#Refusing to hear and listen to someone who thinks different than you not only makes you have a shallow understanding of your own views

[wilwheaton]

hello mr wil wheaton when you were my age (like exactly i think) you were filming stand by me

I turned 13 during production, so if you're about to become a teenager, I hope you'll let me offer some thoughts that I wish an adult had shared with me, then?

I know this is a wall of text, and giving someone this much of your attention is a HUGE ask. Maybe bookmark this for another time, if you're not into hearing an old man talk.

I wrote this a few days before I turned 50. Thank you in advance for listening, and I wish you a life filled with joy, unconditional love, kindness, and adventure.

Hey everyone! An old man is talking!

In seven days, I will be 50 years-old. This is ... weird. I do not feel the way I expected I would feel when I was approaching 50, nor do any of my friends. The only time I feel like I'm middle-aged is when my body does some bullshit that takes me down for hours because I had the nerve to stand up quickly. And I really hate it when I have to use the flashlight on my phone to see a menu. I mean, at that point, I may as well be dropping my pants for free and singing the Old Gray Mare.

Anyway. This has been on my mind for a little bit, so I had something to say when someone used my tumblr ask me thingy earlier this week:

Q: I hope I'm as cool as you when I'm 49. I'd like to think I'm taking the right steps towards that version of myself. A: So I'm not sure I'm cool, but I do know that I don't suck, and that it's a choice I make every day. I desperately wish someone in my family had told me, or shown me by example, that getting older doesn't mean getting stupid and boring and stuffy and extremely uncool. I wish I'd known that, because I spent all of my life until I was in my 40s feeling like there was this day coming very soon when I would have to stop listening to punk, stop playing video games, put on a suit, and start yelling at kids for no good reason. I didn't know that you don't have to suddenly stop being who you are and become something or someone you hate, just because of a certain age. I know that's super obvious, but to young me, it was not. My dad was an asshole, my mom never showed up for me. Directors and people on set had been treating me like a thing for my entire life. I got yelled at for no reason from adults who knew better almost every day. Most of my elementary school teachers were authoritarian, evangelical assholes. All of these different adults, consistently, shut me down and made me feel like I didn't matter, the things I liked were stupid, and my opinions were invalid because of reasons I didn't understand because I was a dumb kid. So I presumed that when you got to be a certain age, that's what happened. I didn't want to be that, at all, and I was sincerely afraid of the day it would happen. But as I got older, I discovered that all that stuff I hated about adults doesn't automatically happen. Those adults I just mentioned all made a choice to be an asshole. I just didn't know it. I was in my early 20s when I did a movie with a cinematographer who was, I think, 45 at the time. He was the coolest, kindest, most artistic dude I'd ever known. He mentored me and we had epic fun making great art together. I remember telling him, "I'm not afraid of being in my 40s like I used to be. I didn't know you could still be cool." It's sad, that I grew up in such a toxic environment, and didn't know any of these things. So, 9 days before I turn 50, here are a couple things I have figured out: You know who sucks when they hit 49 and 50? People who sucked when they were 20 and never grew up. You know who is an asshole at 49 and 50? Yep. Someone who was an asshole as a kid and never experienced consequences for being an asshole. Hitting middle age has been awesome for me. Other than the aging of my body and its reluctance / refusal to do what I want it to do, I love everything about it. I wish I hadn't spent so much of my life being afraid that, when I hit 50, it was all over. Because honestly it's kind of just starting. The coolest stuff in my life to date has all happened in the last ten years, and I'm so grateful that it coincided with me figuring out a lot of shit so I could enjoy it.

The best part of getting older, by several thousand light years, is the part where we figure out how to stop putting up with other people's bullshit, and we contract our social circle until it's only populated with a VERY few people who deserve us. And I am incredibly grateful for these occasional opportunities to be a 49 year-old dad who can say all the things that would have been reassuring for 19 year-old me to hear (he wouldn't have understood, but 29 year-old me would have remembered, and he would have understood. I think.) I sincerely hope someone hears it and finds it helpful. Anyway, you're gonna be fine. Just remember that being cool, kind, honest, honorable, reliable, listening and showing up … they are all choices. If you want to be cool when you're 49, make the choice and set the example for someone to follow you. Treat kids the way you wanted to be treated when you were young. Listen to them when they offer you the privilege, because that means they trust you, and you have credibility with them. Be a mentor. Be supportive. Show up. Make a choice to be the person you need in the world, and never stop being that person. Start today, and when you're nearing 50 like I am, hopefully you'll remember who you needed right now, so you can be that person to someone else in the future. You're already asking the right questions and taking the first steps. I believe in you. You've got this.

Okay, if you've come this far, perhaps you'll follow me a little bit more, and read a thing I wrote about talking to students just a tiny bit older than you, which contains my core values.

Be honest. I’m a very old man, relative to y’all, and I’ve learned that the only currency that really matters in this world is the truth.

Be honorable. This dovetails with number one. You attract to yourself what you put into the world. Dishonorable people will take everything from you and leave you with nothing. Do your best to be a person they aren’t attracted to.

Work hard. I don’t mean, like, at your crappy minimum wage job you hate. I mean do the hard work that makes relationships work, that gets you ahead in your education, that gets you closer to your goals. Everything worth doing is hard. Everything worth doing requires hard work. Sooner or later, you’re going to run into something in your life that’s really hard, and you’ll want to give up, but it’s something you care so much about, you’ll do whatever you can to achieve it. It’s going to be hard, but it’s going to be less hard for someone who has practiced doing the hard things all along, than it is for someone who doesn’t know how to do the hard work because they’ve always chosen the easy path.

Always do your best. Even if you don’t get the result you wanted, doing your best — which will vary from day to day, moment to moment — is all you can ever do. We tell athletes to leave it all on the field. Whatever your version of that is, do it.

This is the most important one. This is the one I hope you’ll all hear and embrace. This is the one I hope you’ll share with your peers: Always be kind.”

When I read number 5, I looked up at them. I was so happy to see a classroom filled with teenagers who were all listening intently, even the ones I thought had tuned me out. “Here’s the thing about being Kind, versus being Nice,” I said. “I have interacted with lots of nice people who are incredibly unkind. Why is that? How do you choose to be nice but not kind?”

I pointed to my head. “This is where nice comes from,” I said. Then, I put my hand over my heart. “This is where kind comes from.” I put my hands out, like, “get it?”

There was this collective gasp of realization that I did not expect, at all. One kid said “Oh damn!” I saw a few kids look at each other like the trick had just been explained to them. They heard me. They really, really heard me. And it was amazing.

Okay, that's all. If you're still here, thank you for giving me so much of your time and attention. I hope you'll come back in a few years, and let me know how you're doing.

[xo-codbby]

thinking about playboy!ghost x manhater!reader 🍒🖤

callsign: cherry. 18+

you loved your team but the truth remained the same, men simply sucked. too many times had you been burnt out, learning constant lessons over and over preferring to know someone properly before you introduced them to your bed. while ghost was just purely physical, just needing release. he didn't want to engage in deep conversation, he swore off of love years ago but there wasn't harm in chasing gratification for his physical needs even if he left a string of broken hearts behind him

ghost is cocky in the fact that he knows he looks good, he knows he has women at his disposable without saying a word. his bed warmed by frequent visitors, many wanting to come back but not getting the chance to. a soft scoff leaving your lips whenever you see a woman hanging onto his arm, practically lapping at his every word. the sight makes you recoil away but it only makes him want to aggravate you that much more

absolutely hating one another when you both first met.

according to him, you were too stuck up. your terrible attitude, your prudish behaviour, little miss know it all. he disliked it all and you had been the same, his arrogant cocky personality paired with his unbearable sarcasm. just another womaniser. you disliked him more than words could explain.

and yet the line between hate and love was a fine line indeed

getting teased around base relentlessly by him

"c'mere cherry, let me show you how to let off some steam-" "fuck right off"

ghost constantly offering you a quick lay whenever the team finished up a particularly stressful mission. gaz and soap chuckling at the snark you gave back, the only one to your defence was price offering a gentle hand and a stern look to ghost who rolled his eyes

but him getting so jealous when you get the attention of another man, when he sees you talking to someone else around the barracks it felt different. it felt intimate, too close for his liking. and with some forceful persuasion from price, he found out the new sergeant had taken a liking to you. and regrettably, you were starting to feel something for him too. he doesn't know why it pisses him off so much but he'll be damned if he doesn't wreak hell on the bastard

his absolute favourite way to piss you off is inviting a woman to his bed, making her scream and moan out his name as loud as he can,

"that's all y'can do f'me? louder doll, lemme hear just how good it feels"

as he's thrusting so deep into her cunt but it doesn't feel the same like it used to. he won't be able to cum until he's imagining your face, imagining the pretty sounds he'd coax from your lips.

how his cock would throb deep into your willing pussy, how he'd rub the tip of aching cock against your entrance relishing in the way you squeezed him so tightly. the very sight almost makes him groan out your name, even the thought of tasting your slick makes him shiver in anticipation.

and of course it's your room beside him, you're subjected to listening this woman's moans and how great he's making her feel. a warm feeling stirring deep between your legs but you refuse to engage in his stupidity cursing at him as you throw yet another book at the wall. the sounds only stir him on, competing with you who could make the loudest sounds.

it's only when price, again, yells out a sharp command from the depths of his room that it's silence once more

the next morning you're woken up by gaz and soap laughing and hooting at him, heading to the kitchen to see his dark brown eyes twinkle as he looks at you. he stands against the counter, a mug of tea in his hands. his balaclava pulled up over his nose while he eyes you up and down stalking your every move

"an' how'd you sleep, cherry?"

his voice is a hoarse rumble from having woken up, his cocky grin as he looks at you over. wondering if you had touched yourself to his sounds he let spill just for you, wondering whether you squeezed your legs tightly or grinded against the pillow for some relief

but your eyes roll and brows furrow, not wanting to entertain his bullshit. only offering a smartass comment as you look back at your phone. the very sight makes him want to pounce on you, to show you what you were missing

but say one day you get your heart broken and the feelings come head to head, piss drunk as you knock thrice on his door watching him open with a disgruntled look on his face

"bloody 'ell, y'gonna bash my door in-"

doesn't even get the words out before you've pulled him to your face and kissing him feverishly, the door slamming shut behind you both. but when you get to the bed, the alcohol and the heightened emotions lull you into a deep sleep as he sighs softly. looking around before setting you down and laying next to you. grumbling softly how you're lucky to be sleeping in his bed

he doesn't even have sex but he swears it's the most intimate he's ever been with someone

so playboy ghost, the man who would pay for ladies ubers so they wouldn't sleep in his personal space, the man who chose to fuck casually with no feeling, the man who swore off love altogether held you captive in his arms snuggling into you.

the very man who broke the vow he made not to ever get entangled with emotions had clung to you like you were his lifeline in a torrential sea and you had escaped his clutches like a thief in the night like he had done so many times to others. and perhaps if he wasn't so heartbroken he might've laughed at the irony of the situation, what comes around goes around

[jweekgoji]

Yandere!Five/Reader.

wow how long has it been? two years since I wrote something for TUA? I still haven't rewatched it since I'm finally catching up with breaking bad but I hope I'll rewatch TUA next week or so. for some strange reason I feel that weird feeling like I need to come back to my fav fictional family with bread and milk and concentrate on it ughhh. when I rewatch it I will check that requests I had before for TUA and will finish them!

tw: yandere Five, unhealthy obsession, mentions of the reader's death, Five has ZERO moments of peace here, angst, controlling Five, mentions of Five's childhood, sort of happy ending?

I'm probably describing my thoughts sooo bad don't be mad please

Like we know, Reginald wasn't afraid to use his own «children» for every heroic mission. Bank robbery? He'll make a 14 year old kids deal with it. Some villains are trying to cause problems? Well, another time to test Number 1's leadership skills, no time for a happy childhood, kiddos! And that is basically what their life is.

Basically, the only source from which they can get the feeling of being needed, loved by the public, and recognized, if not by their father but by the citizens. Reginald trained them well, as long as there are 6 of them, they can deal with any kind of problem. I mean, come on, they're THE Hargreeves, one of the strongest people in the world who have unique superpowers, it's not like something might go wrong one day.

Five was always the most compatible member of the team, always trying to be the best. Despite only being the fifth in the ranking, it doesn't stop him from showing off every time he taunts another criminal, making them lose their minds in attempts to catch him.

It was another day when he and his siblings would find a criminal to deal with. Everything went smoothly, as Luther would discuss the plan with everyone. Klaus and Ben would be outside waiting for the signal, Allison and Luther would be the ones to distract the criminals from the hostages and Diego should disarm them before causing any serious trouble. Five would be the one who would save the hostages.

I think his abilities help the most in such situations. He can teleport any person away in just seconds and lead them into safety, no one would even notice. And if something happens, Five is capable enough to fight by himself.

You are the last hostage he protects now. He had already saved more than 10 people non-stop before, and for some reason, his powers refused to work. It's not like he is weak or something, no, no, just give him some time to catch his breath, and he will continue in a moment! He can't let someone see him like this, let alone let his father find out about this little problem.

He would huff and puff about it, probably imagining how Diego or Klaus were teasing him, how Five was losing his cool and accidentally forgetting how his own powers were working due to what a pretty little hostage Five talked to! And they're close to his age too, so it would be natural for his age to get shy and awkward in front of someone cute he found~! Well, at least it's exactly what he imagines hearing from Klaus after the mission.

Five wasn't quiet around people, usually. He enjoys talking with his siblings, well, with some of them—and he finds it amusing to toy with criminals.

For some reason, he is quiet around you.

Of course, he would try to reassure you that everything is fine, he is a good guy here, and soon enough, you would be safe. The only thing you have to do is just listen to him and follow his lead.

He didn't suspect everything, of course, and was so full of himself even at such an age, thinking nothing would go wrong. You were around his age, and naturally, despite being an arrogant little brat, he did find you quite cute. Maybe, if he had a different life, he would have approached you in different circumstances.

But Five learned the hard way that he's not the strongest and could never be the number one. He would never be able to save everyone. He just stopped paying attention for a one damn second, and the next thing he heard, was a gunshot. Five could feel your hand slipping away from his own, and he would look back just in time to see you almost stumbling, only to catch you in his own arms. Blood painted his dark blue uniform in red.

After that incident, Five became more obsessed with the idea of time travelling. If at first he wanted to prove to his father that he is capable of much more, to show that he's actually much better than everyone, this idea also feeds off his guilt. His first mistake, the only time he failed to do his task. And he just can't let go of it, no matter how much Viktor tries to tell him that it's really not his fault, that he couldn't predict it.

And then, during dinner, he runs away, despite Viktor silently begging him not to do it. Then he blinks again, again, and again, until it's nothing but ruins surrounding him. Until The Handler decides to pay him a visit, expect that he will probably be much more calculative and controlling. 40 years of being alone did it's horrible job on his mind, every day trying to survive while thinking about a possible way out of this situation. Maybe, if he makes much better calculations, he will actually succeed. But being away from humanity for so long makes him crave human contact, he already had that mannequin, Dolores, he could find, talking every day to her about how he actually missed his family, how he wants at least some kind of sick normalcy he had back in the academy. At least he had a place to live without worrying every day about his own survival.

During these moments, where he actually gives himself some time to be weak, he wonders would he still do this if you were still alive? Would he still risk everything just to make his father proud?

He didn't know much about you before. The police shortly said that day that one of the employees had a child in the building, and they were taken hostages by the villains. You were around his age, a young, probably promising student in your normal school, with caring parents and friends who worried about you. Something he craved deeply, even though he would have never admitted it.

When he couldn't have teleported you away safely, he led you through the second way out. He can tell you were scared. Of course, who wouldn't be? It's not like you were used to it. He isn't the gentlest person, more like focused on the business and how to end it all as fast as possible. But you were shaking mess, asking from time to time if it's safe or is actually everything okay? Five, in his some kind of nonchalant and gruff manner, would only nod, reassuring you that his siblings probably dealt with the villains by that time.

You looked so normal for him. You had no powers, no one made you train every day just to bend you into their high expectations, you didn't have to compete for someone's love and approval. You acted like he's just a normal person too, never bothering him with questions about his brothers or a sister, not trying to peek into some secret life of the Hargreeves family. Do you even know who he is?

Eventually, he can't remember who exactly started the dialogue. Was it you, who just wanted to talk about something so boring like your school life, or like that you probably skipped a few classes and missed a math test? Or was it him, remembering his trainings how he should try to make the worried and scared hostage less afraid by making a small talk with them? He's too old to remember every single detail. But he certainly remembered that he at least listened to what you said to him. That he was actually looking at you, giving you his full attention.

Maybe if he was born into a normal family, he would have had a chance to live that normal life with you. But that would be too kind to wish for, wasn't it? Now, that his hands are covered in blood of so many innocent people he had to kill, asking for a normal life is impossible. Even after taking hundreds of lives, he still can't understand why is the sight of yours in his hands any different? He thought he would be used to it by now. What kind of evil God makes him see it over and over again, in every goddamn timeline?

First, it was a villain killing you right in front of him. Second, it was the Swedes who killed you the next day they saw Five trying to talk to you. He almost lost his mind when he spotted you living near the same hotel where his siblings and he decided to stay. But once again, the more problems just followed, leading to another damn disaster to take you away.

When he lost his powers, he didn't know if he should feel relieved or more concerned about it. Of course, that means that he probably has to find Reginald, to get more answers about what the hell happened in this new universe. But that also meant that he finally has a chance to live like a normal person too. Like you did.

He was unfamiliar with this world. He felt lost, humiliated most of the time now that everyone treat him like he's actually younger than he is. At least people stopped treating him like a child, yet he still has to deal with someone underestimating him. He has to find a job, a place to live, for God's sake, how the hell is he going to live without any documents here?

The fate seemed to be connecting you two once again, as it seemed. You would meet him accidentally, one time you just saw him visiting a café you were working for and the same process would repeat again. This time, he would actually remember every single little detail. He would approach you first, carefully and as politely as he could. He still thinks that if he makes even the smallest mistake, he would experience your loss once again. This time he won't screw up, he would plan everything strictly to his scenario. Your meeting, your first date, your first 'I love you'. You might think he's just the most perfect guy you ever met, which actually... would not be so far from the truth? ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

[httpswritings]

Good Luck, Babe!

alexia putellas x reader; 1,2k words; internalized lesbophobia, happy ending.

You didn't know how you ended up in a lesbian bar, but you felt quite comfortable.

The music was nice, the women were nice, and you felt a familiar sensation when you saw two women leaving together to probably enjoy the rest of the night by themselves.

A taller woman joined you and asked if she could buy you a drink.

You politely declined the offer.

Ten minutes passed by, and a blonde woman approached you.

Alexia.

Her eyes were breathtaking and her smile very charming. 

You enjoyed the conversation you were having, but you felt a burning desire for her lips.

Your eyes were fixated on them and Alexia, as if Alexia could read your mind, she whispered in your ear, “You're being very obvious.”

You blinked rapidly and immediately apologized, making Alexia laugh.

“There's no need to apologize. I didn't say I didn't enjoy it.”

“Yeah, but I'm not like you.”

It took Alexia some time to realize what you meant, and now it was her turn to apologize.

“Sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I thought we were on the same boat.”

“Do I look like it?”

Alexia frowned.

Why would you be so offended by someone thinking that you were into women it if you were in a lesbian bar?

“No. Because no one looks like it. You either are or not.”

“I'm not.”

“I know. Now I know.”

You saw Alexia visibly hurt by your rudeness and decided to apologize.

“No, please. Accept my apology. I was very rude.”

Alexia answer something back, but you were so captivated by her beauty that you didn't even pay attention.

A woman approached you both, looking directly at Alexia, and tried to start a conversation with her.

It surprised you how angry she was making you just with her presence.

Alexia was talking to you, why did she have to be here?

You almost lost it when the woman asked Alexia for her number. What you didn't notice was that Alexia was amused by your reaction.

Your face had a reddish colour, and you couldn't stop bouncing your left leg as a way to cope your jealousy.

Alexia also noticed how you relaxed when she declined the woman's offer.

When you two were alone again, Alexia made the first move to say goodbye as she was feeling quite tired.

You walked in the opposite direction but then looked back, and noticed Alexia looking back too, looking at you.

Not even thinking straight, you walked to her and asked her for her number.

“You seem very nice. I'd love to have you as a friend.”

Those words hurt Alexia, but honestly, what could she expect.

You had told her that you weren't like her. You were straight.

-

There was nothing wrong with the idea of bisexuality as a sexuality, but just thinking about being involved with men made you want to throw up.

You didn't want to be a lesbian.

You felt your world lighting up thinking about that word: lesbian.

It's as if your heart was telling you what you needed to hear.

But you refused to acknowledge it.

That's why you didn't message Alexia.

You didn't let yourself even think about her.

You had to like boys and only boys.

-

Some weeks after, you decided to go out with some friends.

In less than thirty minutes, you all were surrounded by men who were interested in you and your friends.

This was very different from what you felt on that lesbian bar.

The group of men were very charming and nice, but they weren't Alexia.

And it wasn't even about Alexia.

They weren't women. 

They weren't familiar to you.

You looked at their faces, their hands, their smiles, and you thought about how would it be to wake next to one of them.

Then you thought about how you would start your morning with Alexia.

You imagined opening your eyes and seeing her peacefully sleeping, or even better, Alexia half-awake looking at you, and that simple thought made you smile.

One of the boys that had his eyes fixated on you thought that you were smiling at him as you “listened” him talking, and tried to be friendlier by touching your arm as a way of deepening your conversation.

His touch made you feel miserable.

You didn't want him to touch you and your arm immediately sought Alexia's touch.

You excused yourself from your group and went to the bathroom.

The boy mentioned before took that as your way of telling him that he should go after you, so he excused himself too.

Your friends and the other men cheered, thinking you'd end up hooking up in a bathroom stall.

You entered the women bathroom and saw his face in the mirror.

You immediately stopped him as he tried to approach you.

“But I thought—”

“Well, you thought wrong.” 

Thankfully, he was polite enough to leave without any hesitation.

You washed the part of your arm where he had touched you.

Without knowing why, you felt a rush of anger at yourself throughout your body.

You didn't want to go back to your friends, but you felt so small in that bathroom, and so close to breaking down.

Maybe your friends didn't understand you.

It was natural for them to be interested in men, but you needed someone who would get how you really feel.

Without any hesitation, you called Alexia.

It was wrong. It was nearly midnight, you were a complete stranger to her, but you needed her.

She was surprised by your call.

It made her very happy, but it took one second to realize how anxious you sounded.

She jumped out of bed and rushed to put some clothes on that would allow her to enter the club, knowing that she wouldn't be allowed if she tried to enter with her pyjamas on.

Alexia had told you to wait for her in the bathroom, and when you saw her, everything made sense.

You rushed to hug her.

A tight but comforting hug.

Her scent made sense.

Her touch made sense.

Her reassuring voice made sense.

“I'm here. You're safe.”

She touched the area of your arm that was touched by that man before, and you knew that you couldn't change who you were, because to you, women didn't feel like men when it came to intimacy.

“Can you take me home? I know this doesn't make sense for you but—”

“Don't worry. No need to explain yourself if you don't feel comfortable. Just tell me if someone has done anything to you.”

“No.”

-

Your friends approached you when they spotted you leaving.

You told them you were leaving with a woman you met the other day, and just that little step made you feel like your truest self. 

You were not leaving with any man, but with a woman, as a woman yourself.

-

Alexia was very attentive and caring.

She gave you everything you needed and even slept in her sofa so you could have her bed all to yourself.

You woke up at five.

The room was still dark, and you craved Alexia filling the empty space of her bed.

You got up and went to the living room.

You saw her peacefully sleeping, and you knew with certainty that that's something you'd love to witness every day. 

You calmly woke her up, and asked her if you could sleep there with her.

Alexia made space for you to join her sofa, and when you noticed your back accommodating perfectly to her chest, as she caressed your body and shushed you, you got very emotional.

Thankfully, Alexia didn't notice.

You were not in the mood to have that conversation, but still Alexia took care of you.

You closed your eyes and let yourself fall asleep, protected by the arms of a woman that was still a stranger but who didn't hesitate to come to your rescue.

And that was enough for you to start your path towards accepting yourself as a lesbian.

[vincent-4ever]

thinking of like cuddling with different tr characters 🥹🥹

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Characters: Ran Haitani, Izana Kurokawa, Manjiro "Mikey" Sano, Chifuyu Matsuno, Keisuke Baji, Souya Kawata

Warning: G!n reader, implied relationship

all banners from Pinterest

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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ His favorite place is literally his bed, says enough as to why I'm writing for him 😭♥️

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ He cuddles you every night and he has like this strong ass grip on you, basically what I'm saying is you're not getting up.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ if you're a morning person and you get up before him, if you even try to get up he'll be all like "why are you getting up.. it's so early..are you not comfortable" and he won't let you go until he's ready to get up, which is hours later.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ For example, if you wake up around 8 AM, you're not getting up until like 12 PM.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Whether it's he prefers to hold you or be held, it's kinda in between. it really depends. If he is worn out he'll probably prefer to be held, but if he's not worn out or if you're upset he'll hold you

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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 100% prefers to be held istg

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ He was bullied a lot growing up, he believes everyone besides you and kakucho hates him, and almost everyone he loved has betrayed him

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ istg all this man needs is someone to love him 😭

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ If you play with his hair or earrings he will literally lose it

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ He likes to bury his face in your chest or neck

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Loves it when you kiss his head/forehead when you cuddle

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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Now.. this just depends on what Mikey were talking about

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Toman!Mikey is REALLY clingy. He prefers being held, he loves kissing while cuddling, not like full on make out sessions but like quick pecks on the lips or like his or your forehead

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Dark impulses Mikey prefers holding you. You're one of the only people who can calm him down so he likes the feeling of protecting you.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ same with Bonten!Mikey, but sometimes he likes to be held. he has his days, like everyone else.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Bonten!Mikey would have full on makeout sessions with you while you cuddle, not necessarily in a sexual way, but just because he loves you

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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ He doesn't care rather he's being held or holding you, as long as you're together yk

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ he doesn't care whether you're talking, or you're silent, he's comfortable.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ He probably prefers cuddling in your bed rather than his, claims your bed is "more comfortable" (it's because your bed smells like you)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ He likes to tell you about his day while you guys are cuddling, he doesn't care if you answer he just likes to know you're listening

───────────────※ ·❆· ※──────────────

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ he prefers to hold you. he likes to protect you, or to have the feeling of protecting you

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ He likes when you wear his shirt when you cuddle (also in general, but extra points when you're cuddling)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ plants kisses all over your face, he loves to hear your little reactions to him doing it

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ unfortunately, if peke j walks in, that's where all his attention is going 😭 I'm sorry

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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ He loves being held simply because of the reason he likes having your face buried in his hair.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Also likes when you play with his hair.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ If he's at your house and you're at his house he refuses to sleep without you

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ He likes hearing you rant about random things like your day or a game you're playing or the show you started watching

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ He doesn't seem like he's listening, and sometimes you have to check if he is, but he is

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ the only time he's not really listening is when he spaces out while listening to you.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ kisses your neck lazily before you fall asleep and after you wake up

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I'ma be honest. I don't think I did good with this but I just wrote it for fun 🥹🥹🥹

likes and rebloggs appreciated

[inconveniently-discorporated]

Today it's time for me to be heartbroken about Crowley and HIS version of events, because of course HIS version makes sense to him too.

The thing about Crowley is, he acts so nonchalant about everything.

Like, at first, he's simply just a demon. Sauntered vaguely downward and such, it's barely even really a thing, honestly -- it's just sort of his job title, y'know? Aziraphale's in one department, he's in another, that's just how it is. Like satanists, right?

But then the more the story progresses, the more we get the sense that there's something deeper than that. It becomes especially apparent with his plants, and how he puts the fear of God (then corrected by the narrator: the fear of Crowley) in them.

And these scenes, as many of you well know, have been theorized to be Crowley working through the circumstances of his fall. Projecting his emotions onto the plants, inflicting on them what was done to him. Processing what it was like to be on the other side of the curtain, maybe -- possibly try to figure out what could drive a creator to harm their own creations.

The details of the fall and what Crowley did, exactly, are unclear. The details of what Crowley knows about his own fall are unclear, because evidence could suggest that maybe he doesn't remember. But his perception seems to be that it didn't take much to be a demon.

What he does know, is that nothing lasts forever -- not even the grace of God.

But Aziraphale is different.

Aziraphale is an angel with very black-and-white ideas of what it means to be an angel, and what it means to be a demon.

But Crowley sees through it. From giving away the sword alone, he sees the cracks in Aziraphale's rigid thinking that allows the light to shine through. And he chips and he chips at that thinking -- he asks the kind of questions that probably made him fall in the first place -- until finally we get here.

God saw Crowley at his most innocent. God saw Crowley at his most joyful state of being. God saw him at his holiest.

God heard his questions, likely knowing that Crowley was expressing love in the way that he would want to receive it. Crowley says, "Well, if I was the one running it all, I would like it if someone asked questions. Fresh point of view."

God knew all of this, and then cast him out anyway. Unforgivable, that's what he is. Not to be forgiven, ever. Not to be loved -- not by God.

Then here comes along this angel (who he may or may not remember). This angel knows he's a demon, and talks to him anyway. This angel knows he's a demon, and listens to what he has to say. This angel knows he's a demon, and still looks him in the eye, sees the good in him, and forcefully tells him that HE still sees the good in him, even when God refuses to.

Aziraphale sees everything in Crowley that God could not, and that is something Crowley thought was lost forever.

So it only makes sense that when Aziraphale first burst in with his words all aflutter at the idea that they were going to go back to Heaven and change everything, Crowley felt this was something they couldn't do. Because he understands better than anyone, Heaven has the power to change the angel, the angel does not have the power to change Heaven.

It makes sense that Crowley gave him a chance. Crowley didn't exactly erupt with rage at Aziraphale. Yes, he was loudly against the idea and very disappointed, but then he goes, "Oh. Oh God. Right. Okay. I didn't get a chance to say what I was going to say, I better say it now."

He still thinks there's a chance. He's still giving Aziraphale a chance to back out.

He gives Aziraphale multiple chances. And every time Aziraphale will not back down. Every time, he thinks he hears the same message. The one he's always heard, the one he should know by now but somehow still hopes it isn't true.

Nothing lasts forever.

Not the universal star machine.

Not the grace of God.

Not the bookshop.

Not my acceptance of who you are.

Not us.

He doesn't hear the way Aziraphale remembers his joy and wants him to be happy. He doesn't hear how Aziraphale wants him and needs him and begs for him to be on his side. He doesn't hear the hope and the desire to be safe and together and in control -- forever.

He doesn't hear the way Aziraphale is lying to himself because we all know damn well he would live in a state of comfortable happiness if he could.

Instead, he hears this.

He hears that he is in need of forgiveness. He hears that he has done something to warrant it.

Only, he is unforgivable. Nothing lasts forever, but maybe that part does. Out of everything that never lasted, the one that did is that he is unforgivable the way that he is.

"Don't bother," he says.

Don't bother, because he doesn't hear Aziraphale, he hears God.

Don't bother, because maybe God was right.

[enzstr]

Only You || K. Bakugo

Pairing: Bakugo x Reader

synopsis: starz26708 and Dino.tnt609, two students who first met in an online chatroom. A friendship had flourished between them. With the strong need to meet each other, 6aku.tnt609 slowly gains curiosity regarding the other's identity, which sparked the desire to meet her within him. What could possibly go wrong?

💭: btw, this is inspired from the Chad Michael Murray and Hilary Duff movie A Cinderella's Story!!

author's note: My deepest apologies it took me so long to upload the new chapter!!! I've been having finals and examinations but I'm free now!! New chapter might come out in a few days or a week since it's in my drafts now...

words: 3.7k

Chapter 2: The Two People

Reader's POV

The following day, I sat in my classes, feeling unusually unfocused. I found my thoughts continually returning to the message I had received the night before from my friend, Dino.tnt609. The words and emotions contained in that message had left a powerful and lingering effect on me, making it difficult for me to fully immerse myself in the subjects being taught.

“Please meet me at the school’s party. I’ll be waiting for you at 11:00 in the middle of the dance floor.” 

Those messages had set themselves so deeply into my thoughts that it was as if they were on a constant replay in my mind. No matter what I did, I couldn't seem to rid myself of their presence. They continued to resurface, over and over again, like a stubborn memory that refused to be forgotten. The more I tried to dismiss them, the more their contents seemed to linger in my thoughts, refusing to be pushed aside or ignored.

“Y/n, what is the difference between speed and velocity?”

My heart dropped. I have been half-listening, my mind drifting, thinking about the message Dino sent to me—contemplating meeting him, and the school party. But now, I was completely caught off guard. Difference between speed and velocity—the words sounded fuzzy in my head, like fragments of a puzzle I wasn’t sure how to put together.

That was when she noticed him.

Bakugo.

He was sitting at the back of the class, leaning back in his chair, hands casually folded behind his head. He was grinning—the kind of grin that wasn’t friendly or supportive. It was the kind of grin that only came when you were sure someone else was about to fail. He’d been watching me for a while now, and I could feel his gaze boring into me. I knew exactly what he was thinking: She wasn’t paying attention. She doesn’t know the answer. This is my chance to look good in front of everyone.

The grin on Bakugo’s face widened ever so slightly, and I could almost hear his internal smirk. He had the confidence of someone who’d aced every test without breaking a sweat, someone who knew how to get under your skin with the smallest of gestures. And right now, his quiet, almost smug enjoyment was aimed directly at me.

My stomach twisted. It wasn’t that I cared about beating Dylan, exactly. But I did care about not looking foolish in front of the class—especially when he was clearly expecting me to fail. The challenge hung in the air, palpable, like an unspoken duel. I could almost hear him thinking, Come on, mess up. Please mess up.

The competitive spark in me flared to life, and in that moment, something shifted inside of me. I wasn’t going to let him get the last laugh. No way.

I straightened up in my chair, eyes narrowing just slightly, and forced myself to focus. I don’t need to know everything, I told myself. I just need to know enough to get this answer right.

My gaze locked back onto the board, and suddenly, it wasn’t so hard to make sense of the question. It was a simple logic question—something I could handle if I stopped panicking.

Mr. Aizawa was still looking at me expectantly, but now I had a plan. I took a steadying breath and spoke, my voice clearer than she felt.

“The difference between speed and velocity lies in their definitions, speed is a scalar quantity, meaning it only describes how fast an object is moving, without any reference to direction. For example, if a car is going 50 km/h, that's its speed.”

Her eyes flicked back to the board, confirming her answer. She could feel the weight of the moment—this was what it was all about. She hadn’t been paying attention before, but she was focused now, and she was going to finish strong.

“Velocity, on the other hand, is a vector quantity. This means it not only describes how fast an object is moving but also in which direction. For instance, if the car is traveling at 50 km/h to the east, its velocity is 50 km/h east. In essence, while speed only tells you the rate of motion, velocity provides both the rate and the direction of motion.”

Mr. Aizawa nodded approvingly. "Exactly, Y/n. Well done."

I felt a small surge of relief, but it wasn’t just the satisfaction of getting the answer right. It was the feeling of having turned the tables, of having taken control of the moment that had threatened to spiral out of my grasp. I glanced over at Bakugo, just as he was about to sit up straighter in his chair. His grin faltered when he saw the glint in my eyes.

And that was all the encouragement Bakugo needed.

I couldn’t help myself. A small, almost mischievous smile curved on my lips. It wasn’t an innocent, pleased-with-herself smile—it was the kind of grin you wore when you knew you’d just pulled something off, when you’d just made someone else realize they’d misjudged you.

Bakugo’s expression shifted, his eyes narrowing slightly, the smugness faltering for the briefest of moments. He’d thought I’d fumble. He’d thought I wouldn’t know the answer. But I had shown him, and not only had I known the answer—I said it with confidence, without hesitation.

He looked away first, clearly frustrated, but I didn’t miss the way his jaw tightened. I knew that look. He didn’t like losing, even if it was just a small moment, a little victory that nobody else in the room might even notice.

But I noticed. And that was enough for her.

As the class continued, Ellie let herself settle back into her seat, but her mind was sharp, focused, and alive with the thrill of competition. Dylan might have been the golden boy of the class, but today, in this small, unexpected moment, Ellie had beaten him. And for once, it felt really good to smile back at him—just a little bit smug, just a little bit competitive—knowing that he hadn’t seen this coming.

The moment I finished answering the question, I could feel it—a mix of pride and adrenaline coursing through me. I had nailed it, no hesitation, no second-guessing. The class had been quiet after I spoke, the silence hanging in the air before the professor acknowledged my answer. It felt like the eyes of the entire room were on me, but in that instant, I didn’t care. For once, I was the one who had it together.

But then there was the scoff.

I didn’t even need to look at him to know exactly who it was. Bakugo. The ever-present thorn in my side. His chair creaked as he shifted, his eyes narrowing in that way I was so familiar with. He looked almost... irritated, the kind of expression he wore when he thought someone was challenging his spot as top dog in this class. And right now, it was clear that he did not appreciate the fact that I was the one who had answered confidently.

Why does it always have to be him? I wondered, my hands clenched under the desk. I knew it was coming—he was going to find some way to one-up me, to make me feel small for doing something as simple as knowing the answer. I hated how predictable he was, but I hated even more that it affected me so much. I’d never let him see that, though. He had to think I was just as indifferent as he was.

I kept my eyes trained forward, pretending like his irritation didn’t bother me, like I wasn’t still replaying the way he’d looked at me, the way he always tried to put me in my place. It’s just a class. It doesn’t matter, I reminded myself. This isn’t real life. This is just some stupid competition.

The bell rang, breaking my thoughts, and the class started to pack up. As usual, Bakugo shoved his things into his bag with that signature smug expression, as if he'd already forgotten the moment I’d answered correctly. He probably wouldn’t give it a second thought, while I would be stewing in it for the rest of the day.

I grabbed my phone, hoping to distract myself. A new message from Dino.tnt 609 popped up. My fingers tapped the screen eagerly, relieved for the sudden shift in focus.

Dino.tnt609: “So, Halloween party tomorrow night.. what do you think? You in?”

I smiled at the message. Dino. He was the one person who could make everything feel lighter, even when things felt heavy. Talking to him always made me feel like I could breathe again after a day of dealing with Bakugo’s constant need to compete. Dino was my escape. He didn’t care about grades or the stupid academic battles I fought with Bakugo every day. He just… gets me.

But then I hesitated. My thumb hovered over the keyboard as I began to type, the excitement of the invite quickly dampened by a twinge of anxiety. The party. It should be fun, right? Just a Halloween party. But the idea of seeing someone in person—someone I had only ever known through texts and memes and game chats—suddenly felt overwhelming. What if I didn’t click with him in real life? What if meeting him was awkward?

But more than that, what if it turned out that the person I was texting with every night was someone I couldn’t stand in real life? What if he was one of those people who, once you met them face to face, you realized you just didn’t vibe with? What if it was someone like Bakugo?

Wait, no. Don’t think that. I tried to push the thought out of my head. I knew it was irrational. Dino wasn’t Bakugo. He couldn’t be. Dino was the one who listened to my rants without judgment. Bakugo would’ve laughed at my complaints, probably turned it into some kind of competition. But Dino didn’t—he understood. He had always been there when I needed to vent about school, about life, about how exhausting it was to constantly feel like I had to prove myself to people who didn’t deserve it.

I bit my lip, still unsure. Maybe I was overthinking it. It’s just a Halloween party. Just one night. The mask I planned to wear would make it easier, give me an extra layer of comfort in case things felt weird. And if it turned out the person I was meeting in real life was someone I couldn’t stand? I could always leave early, or just keep the mask on, keep things light. No pressure.

With a sigh, I finally typed back.

starz26708: “I’m not sure yet. I want to go, but I keep thinking about who I might run into. What if it’s someone I already know and just don’t get along with? I hate the idea of meeting someone and realizing they’re not who I thought they’d be…”

I glanced at the message after I sent it, my heart pounding slightly. What if Dino didn’t understand? What if he thought I was being weird or overdramatic? But no, Dino would get it. He always did.

My phone buzzed almost immediately, and I opened the message from him.

Dino.tnt609: “I totally get it. Meeting people in real life is a lot different, especially when you’ve only talked to them online. But hey, no worries. If you don’t like the vibe when you get there, you don’t have to stay. Just come and hang out for a bit, if you feel like it. We can just keep it lowkey. And honestly, the mask thing sounds awesome. No pressure at all.”

I felt the tension leave my shoulders as I read his reply. Dino’s message was so casual, so easy-going. It reminded me that I didn’t have to overthink everything. The idea of the mask suddenly felt like a safe haven, a way to protect myself if things didn’t go as planned. And if things went well? Even better.

I glanced at my costume on the chair across the room, the simple, cute outfit with the eye mask. It was just for fun, right? It would be a way to keep things light, to feel like I could still hide behind some layer of anonymity, just in case. I could show up, meet DIno, and see how it felt. If I didn’t like the vibe, I could leave. No harm done.

Taking a deep breath, I typed out my response.

starz26708: “Alright, I’ll do it. I’ll come to the party. And I’ll wear the mask. No pressure. Just… a fun time, right?”

I hit send and sat back in my chair, feeling both nervous and excited. The thought of meeting Maverick in real life still made my heart race, but now there was a sense of excitement bubbling up, too. No more overthinking. Tomorrow would be what it would be.

As I tucked my phone back into my pocket, I couldn’t help but think back to the classroom earlier that day, the way Bakugo had looked at me with that scoff, like I was some kind of threat to his place in the class. I couldn’t stop him from being irritated or annoyed by me. But for once, I didn’t need to care. I was about to meet someone who saw me for who I really was, not just some competitor in an academic race.

And for the first time in a while, that felt like enough.

The library was still, the kind of stillness that envelops you like a blanket, pressing in with its quiet whispers. The scent of old books and fresh paper, mingled with the faint hum of fluorescent lights, filled the air. I sat at my usual spot in the corner near the back row of tables, tucked between two towering bookshelves. The table before me was cluttered with textbooks, notebooks, and a half-finished cup of coffee that had long since cooled. It was late afternoon, and the golden light from the windows cast long shadows across the floor, making everything feel a bit more serene than usual.

I liked it here—the calm, the solitude, the sense of focus that always seemed to find its way to me in the midst of my chaotic thoughts. But today, there was an odd distraction. Him. Bakugo.

It wasn’t that he had suddenly appeared or made his presence known in any way. No, he’d been here for a while now, sitting at the table across from hers, his head bent low over a stack of textbooks. His usual aloofness was present, that edge of arrogance that always seemed to follow him like a cloud, but it was muted somehow. Less blatant. Less in-your-face.

I could feel the tension in her chest as I stole a glance at him. My eyes lingered for just a moment, not sure what to make of it. He wasn’t showing off, wasn’t playing the part of the smug academic genius. He was just… working.

It was weird. It had been a while since I’d seen Bakugo like this—since he had been normal. Or maybe that wasn’t the right word. Maybe it was more like he was letting his guard down a little, just enough for me to notice. He was still Bakugo, the same guy who had scoffed at me when I answered that question in class with confidence, the same guy who’d shot me looks of condescension every chance he got. But today, there was something… different.

I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable with the way my thoughts were spiraling around him. I didn’t like this feeling. I didn’t like the fact that I was starting to care, even a little, about what Bakugo thought—or, worse, starting to wonder if he was, in some way, not the person I always assumed him to be.

My focus snapped back to my notes. I had a test coming up. A test I needed to ace. No distractions. No thoughts about him. And yet, despite my best efforts, I couldn’t stop my gaze from drifting back to him.

Bakugo had paused in the middle of writing, a pencil hovering above his notebook as he looked at something in the distance, his gaze unfocused. There was a tiredness about him today, something uncharacteristic, as though the weight of his own expectations were getting to him. His posture had shifted slightly; no longer the rigid, always-perfect stance, but more slouched, as if the constant pressure of being the best was beginning to wear on him. I had always known that he had his own demons, just as I did. But today, it felt… real somehow. It felt more human.

I tried to shake it off, to tell myself that this was just another moment of my own weakness, my need to understand people. To make sense of things. But it was harder now. It was harder to keep the walls up when I had seen a flicker of something real underneath the arrogance.

Bakugo cleared his throat suddenly, breaking the silence between them, and my eyes shot up, my heart giving an unexpected jolt. He was looking at me now, but not with the same sharp, dismissive gaze I was used to. No, this time, it was... different. There was still a hint of skepticism, but it wasn’t the biting kind. It was almost... curious.

“You’re doing that thing again,” he said, his voice a little hoarse, but not with the usual irritation. It was more like an observation. “Staring off into space.”

I blinked, surprised by the comment. “What?”

“You’re distracted,” he said, his voice quieter now. He shifted in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck with a tired sigh. “You’ve been looking at me like I’m some kind of puzzle you’re trying to figure out.”

I frowned, annoyed at how accurately he’d read me, even though I hadn’t been aware of it myself. “I haven’t been staring at you,” I muttered, though it wasn’t very convincing. I hadn’t meant to stare at him, but it was hard not to when something about today felt... off. In a way that was hard to describe.

Bakugo smirked, the edge of his usual arrogance slipping back for a moment. “Sure you haven’t.”

The flicker of their old dynamic was still there, but there was something softer in the way he said it. No ridicule. No malice. Just a simple, half-amused observation.

I sighed, rubbing my temples. This wasn’t helping me focus. And yet, there was something about the way Bakugo was acting today that made me feel like he wasn’t just my academic rival anymore. He wasn’t just the guy who competed against me for every grade, for every small victory.

For a split second,I entertained the thought that maybe—just maybe—I had misjudged him. But I quickly dismissed it. Bakugo was still Bakugo. Still arrogant. Still stubborn. Still too proud for his own good.

“I’m trying to focus,” I muttered, feeling a bit of tension in my chest, my irritation creeping back.

Bakugo didn’t respond right away. Instead, he picked up his pencil again and started scribbling something in his notebook. The sound of the lead scraping against the paper was oddly calming in the otherwise quiet space. I could feel the weight of the moment stretch out, the minutes slipping by as both of us worked, neither of us speaking.

And then, unexpectedly, Bakugo spoke again.

“You know,” he said, his voice a little softer than before, “you’re not the only one stressed out about this stuff.”

I blinked at him. What?

“Yeah,” He continued, not looking up from his work. “I might seem like I have everything figured out all the time, but I don’t. I—” He paused for a second, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of something that wasn’t arrogance in his eyes. “I hate feeling like I’m always just... expected to be the best, you know?”

I was taken aback. I didn’t know how to respond at first. This wasn’t the Bakugo I knew, the Bakugo who acted like he had the world on a string and was just waiting for it to fall into place. No, this was different. This was... human. Vulnerable, even.

I swallowed, the words catching in my throat. “I get it,” I said quietly, before I could stop herself. “I feel the same way. Like I’m always trying to prove something. Like I’m never enough.”

Bakugo finally looked up at me then, his expression more thoughtful than I had ever seen it. The usual arrogance was still there, tucked beneath the surface, but it wasn’t all-consuming. For a second, he just looked at her, as if considering her words. And for a moment, I wasn’t sure what to say next.

Then, surprisingly, Bakugo offered a small, almost imperceptible nod, the corner of his mouth twitching upward, not into a smirk, but a genuine smile. It wasn’t much—certainly not the kind of smile I ever expect from him—but it was enough.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Guess we’re not so different after all.”

I was silent for a moment, processing the unexpected turn in their conversation. There was still so much about him that grated on my nerves, but in that moment, sitting in the library with him, I realized something. Maybe—just maybe—there was more to him than the arrogant exterior he always wore. Maybe there was a real person beneath all that pride and stubbornness.

And maybe, just maybe, I was starting to see him for who he truly was.

“I guess so,” I replied, offering him a small smile of my own.

Both of us went back to their work, the silence stretching out between us again, but this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was… peaceful. There was an understanding now, an unspoken truce. They weren’t enemies, not really—not anymore.

For the first time, I realized that their rivalry didn’t have to define us. We could just be two students, studying together in the same quiet space, both trying to survive the pressures of their lives.

And in that simple moment, sitting across from each other, we both found a kind of peace.

taglist: @sara4uuu @zoast32 @lemon-lav @instantmagazineconnoisseur (comment to be added on my taglist!)

enzstr © 2024. please don't steal, modify or copy my writing on any other platforms!

[artists-ally]

{She Gets The Flowers, Right?} Reader x Lucien Vanssera

You all can go and blame @thelov3lybookworm for the swarm of Lucien content y'all are gonna get from me. This is probably one of the saddest things I've ever written and it took me wwaayy back to a very shitty relationship I was in so if it seem extra personal it is 💀 Enjoy, title from this song!

Word Count: 3,108

Warnings: ANGST (just for you @bubybubsters) mentions of murder (in relation to Jesminda)

Summary: Lucine has been so focused on trying to win over Elain that he's never once stopped to consider that you're the one who's always been there for him.

~~~~~

The door slammed. A breath sighed from the entryway. I went stiff. 

“I don’t understand,” Lucien shouted. I could hear him kicking off his boots, hanging his jacket up on the rack by the door. “I thought we were finally making some progress and then nothing. Absolutely nothing today.”

I remained silent, swiping off the stuck scallions on my knife. “Sorry.”

“I mean, I get that she needs time to adjust, but Cauldron, Yn. It’s been nearly a year since the war ended. I’ve been patient, more than patient, and it’s like I’ve never made an effort.”

“Told you it was a bad idea.”

“What is it about me that she cannot stand? What does Azriel offer her that I don’t? He walks in the room and she lights up. What do I have to do to get her to look at me like that?” I just shrugged, moving to the sink to wash some sprouts and potatoes. Lucien was caught in this never ending cycle of trying to win over Elain. For the past year, almost year and a half, he has been torturing himself with something that obviously won’t be. 

“Do you think she’d enjoy it if I took her to the Summer Court? Maybe she’d enjoy a trip to Dawn?” Lucien sat at my kitchen table, tapping his heel on my hardwood floor with his arms crossed over his chest. “We did actually talk for a while today. She ended up telling me her plans for her fall garden.”

“Sounds nice.”

“But I just wish she would open up a little more. Every time we talk it’s like I have to pry it out of her.” “Mhmm.”

“It makes me so nervous when she closes up like this. I can’t imagine what is going through her head. She won’t tell me. She won’t tell anyone, which is concerning. I just wish she would at least tell someone about what is going on. I’d even be okay if she told Azriel.”

“Yeah.”

“If only she would just reach out. Even an inch, just tug on the bond and acknowledge that it’s there. It wouldn’t bother me as much if she would just give us a chance.”

Lucien continued to blabber again, droning on and on about how Elain won’t do this or talk about that. I tuned him out, biting back the sting of jealousy in my throat. That familiar prickle in my nose forced me to grip the spoon harder. 

He never listened to me anymore. He’d come and ask me for advice, to see what my opinion was on what he should do, and then blatantly do the opposite. But every time he came back, I’d give him more. Just like he was stuck in a loop with Elain, I was just as guilty of the same with him. 

I was the one who had found him on the border after his Jesminda was murdered. I had been there to help him get settled, to get revenge on his brothers who forced him to watch. For decades I have been doing the same thing he has for Elain. 

The only difference is I know how to take a hint. Luciene doesn’t. 

“... and then when I asked if she would join me for a walk, she refused. I mean, she knows how important it is to get outside every now and then. She had said she wanted to garden and plant new seedlings for the upcoming winter but… I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Yeah I bet that’s tough.”

“Tough?” So he did know how to acknowledge the things I said. “It’s excruciating. You have no idea. Have you been listening to anything I’ve been saying?”

It took all the strength inside me to not hurl this knife at his head. “What’s the point anymore?”

“What?” “You don’t listen to anything I say anymore anyways, so why bother?” I snorted, shaking my head. “I could’ve announced my pregnancy right now and you would’ve been too lost in thought about her to even register.”

“You’re pregnant?” 

I slammed my knife down on the counter and whipped to face him. “No, I’m not. But if I was, I sure as hell wouldn’t tell you.”

“Why? We’re best friends, Yn. Don’t you think I’d wanna know if you were-”

“That is not the point of the conversation, Lucien,” I snapped. He just stared at me, waiting for an elaboration. I just sighed, “Whatever. Doesn’t matter.” “Did something happen today? You’re clearly in a bad mood.” “No. Absolutely nothing happened. Only that I had the grand opening of my restaurant today and you were nowhere to be found. You were with Elain.”

Lucien went silent. I could feel the energy shift from across the room. “Cauldron boil me… Yn I am so sorry. I thought that was next week, why didn’t you remind me yesterday?”

“I did,” I said. “I reminded you yesterday before you went up to the House to be with Elain. And the day before, and the day before that.”

“I think I would’ve remembered if-”

“Would you?” The tears were coming. Fast. It was a struggle to keep them from spilling over. “Because every time I’ve said anything, you’re talking about her. It’s always fucking her.”

“Why are you talking about Elain like that? What did she do to you?”

I just stopped moving. Stopped breathing. Stopped thinking. The chill that spread through my bones should’ve been enough to kill me. I ground my teeth together hard enough to crack. “Ever since we came to this gods damned Court all you have talked about is her. It’s like I’m not even here anymore.”

“That’s not true and you know it,” Lucien stood up. 

“When was the last time you asked how I was doing? If the designs for the menus are finished? If I’ve picked out new tiles for my bathing room or if I’ve finally finished that collage I was working on? How long has it been since we’ve been out together or gone diving in the Sidra? For fucks sake Lucien it’s like I’m best friends with a ghost.”

All Lucien offered was a turn of his palms, lips parting to answer but no words came out.

“Exactly. You can’t even remember. Any time we talk it’s always about her. It’s always Elain this and Elain that. I’m fucking sick of it, Lucien. You’re constantly asking for advice on what to do with her, but have you ever stopped and thought about what you’re doing?”

“Every day it haunts me that I can’t reach her, Yn,” Lucien's brows knit together. “I come to you because I value your advice.”

“Well you can stop. I don’t have any more to give. Now, you can either change the topic or get the fuck out because I’m sick of hearing about her. Today was supposed to be my day. I don’t ever ask you for anything, and this is the one thing I wanted. And you were supposed to be there for me, your friend, your best friend. But of course, the female who won’t give you the time of day has to take priority over someone you’ve known for almost a century.” 

“Are you so selfish that you can’t be happy for me for finding a mate after so many years? Are you that jealous that I’ve decided to spend some of my time with anyone else?”

Blinding red rage coursed through me. I let everything I had been holding back for months seep through. “How dare you say that to me.”

“Yn-”

“If you interrupt me I swear to the Mother that I will break your fucking neck.” I watched him swallow his response. “If you think I am unhappy with your bond then you don’t know me at all. I want nothing more than for you to be happy, Lucien. But I would be lying if I said it didn’t make me sick to my stomach.”

“Elain is sweet. Nurturing and caring,” Lucien pointed out. "What's so bad about that?"

“Does she know anything about you?”

 “We’ve… talked about some things.”

“So does she know about your brothers?” His face paled. “Does she know about all the fights you got in with Tamlin? Does she know about Jesminda or how many years it took you to be able to hear her name and not burst into tears at the first syllable?”

“That’s not fair.”

“I think it’s perfectly fair, Lucien,” I shouted. My skin was blisteringly hot. All control was quickly crumbling. “The moment Elain came along, you forgot all about me. I am the only living being that has been there with you through everything. Through the destruction of the Spring Court, through Hybern. You begged me to come with you to Velaris, I gave up everything for you.”

“You wanted to leave, too. Don’t put all this on me,” Lucien said, waving his arms in the air. 

“I did it because of you. How dense are you, Lucien? How blind are you to not see that every decision I have made since I met you has been for your well being?”

“I never asked that of you.”

“No, you didn’t. Because you’ve never once considered that I would do it without a second thought. I care about you. I was the one you wept to every time Elain rejected you, and yet, every single time you ran right back to her. I don’t know what you see in her. I think she has made it incredibly clear that she wants nothing to do with you.”

“You don’t know that. You don’t know anything about us.” Lucien’s eyes went dark, his mouth pressed in a flat line, nostrils flared. 

I scoffed. A harsh, bitter laugh falling from my lips. “Did you seriously just say that to me? All I do is listen to you complain about her and how she doesn’t open up. About how closed off she is. For Cauldron's sake, Lucien, you had the balls to come here after opening day, after blowing me off, to talk about her. Want some advice? Take a nice long look in the mirror.”

“Why can you just not accept the fact that I might want to have a relationship with her? Why can’t you be happy for me?”

“Because what does she have that I don’t? What is it about her that you could possibly like more than me? Cauldron damn me, Lucien, we live together. I cook for you every day, we have breakfast and tea together.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Lucien furrows his brows together.

I could feel my heart start to splinter into however many pieces to double the amount of stars in the sky. All the love and contained affection I’ve had since I met Lucien has washed away in a moment. All those heart to hearts, all those late nights spent atop the House of Wind… all for nothing.

“You’re right,” I nodded, letting several tears run down my cheeks. “It means nothing. I have no reason to be mad at you for simply wanting to find love.”

Lucien sighed, a heavy, grueling noise. “Yn-”

“You know, everyone from back home kept saying that I was making a mistake, that I shouldn’t run off here with you. I think they’re right. This was all a mistake. I should’ve left you to rot on the side of the border.”

Color flushed his face and neck. Silence cursed us and I could only hear my occasional sniffle and the rapid beating of my heart. 

“Tell me this, Lucien. Do her eyes look better when they shine?”

“What? Yn why are you-”

“Does she look prettier when she cries? Am I just too much to handle or-or too emotionally unstable?”

“You’re not too much, Yn. You’re perfect the way you are,” he shook his head, taking my hands in his. I rip them away.

“Then gods dammit Lucien, what is it about her that you love so much more than me?” I screamed.

He is stunned and silent. His mouth opens and closes. No words are coming out. My chest feels like it’s going to cave in any second. 

“Yn… what are you talking about? Are you in love with me?” That flicker deep within my chest erupts into a thousand colors. I bite my lips to keep from crying out. “You are… aren’t you?”

I just shake my head. “I asked you a question first.”

“No, you can’t do this to me, that's not fair.”

“Who gives a fuck what is fair, Lucien? You have discarded me to the side like I was nothing. Did you forget that I was the one who sacrificed her life for you? What has Elain done for you? Nothing. She has done nothing but distract you from the important things in your life.”

“Like you?” Lucien said with an equal amount of venom in his voice. “You are so selfish.”

“You want me to admit it?” I snarled, my face inches from his. “Fine, I’m jealous. I am so jealous that you look at her like she hung the moon and at me like I mean nothing to you. There is no worse feeling in the world than seeing you happy with her, wishing and praying to every god that it was me.”

Lucien just stands still. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Yn.”

“That you love me too!” I shout, pacing around. “You’re telling me that Elain, someone who refuses to give you anything but a cold shoulder, is going to get all the love and affection I so treacherously built back into you after Jesminda? Did you ever stop and think for one moment that there could be you and I? Tell me how the fuck that makes sense.”

“Yes, you took care of me, and I will be eternally grateful for what you’ve done for me. I can’t ever repay you for giving life back to me. But I can’t… I can’t force myself to love you, Yn. I just can’t.”

My body felt like it was on fire. And not the kind of blaze I got when I looked into his eyes. It felt like the bond I had carefully hidden for years was finally unbraiding inside my soul. But when my eyes did meet his… nothing. No burst of excitement or sense of relief. 

I felt utterly nothing as I looked at the man that has been in every single moment of my life for the past sixty years. 

“Please say something,” Lucien begged. 

I couldn’t. Not with this world obliterating feeling inside my chest. I could only stare at the floor. 

“Yn… Yn please don’t let this ruin what we have.”

“It was ruined the moment you walked in that door.” My voice was meek. 

I could see Lucien shake his head, but his features became a blurry whirlwind behind my tears. “Yn I’m begging you I’ll-”

“Get out.”

“No,” Lucien's voice cracked. “No, I'm not going to leave.” He came and grabbed my shoulders, trying to make me look at him.

“Leave, right now, or I’ll get someone who will.” I'll call for Azriel. That will really make his skin blister. He instantly let go. “I want all traces of you gone by tomorrow night.”

“You can’t do this to me. To us.”

“It’s clear you’ve made your decision on where your priorities lie. I refuse to be second place to you anymore.”

“You have never been second place to me, Yn. Never. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t valued. But I can’t love you. I’m not in love with you.”

“And that is why you have to go. Take care Lucien, I hope she was worth it.”

I don’t bother to show him to the door. He knows where it is. I don’t offer him any other farewells. He doesn’t deserve my good luck. Instead I return to my pots and pans, staring painfully at them. I have no choice but to force him away.

It might just kill me, this ache in my body. It might just engulf me and swallow me into the earth, back to wherever I came from and give me another shot. Hopefully the next one I’ll actually get what I deserve. 

As I stare at the meal before me, it’s like I’m looking at a fresh batch of pure despair. It brings me nothing but painful reminders of years ago back in the Spring Court. Where it was just the two of us. There was no Night Court, there was no emissary duty, there was no Feyre or Nesta or Elain. 

Just me and my Lucien. 

And now there was just me. 

I have to do something. Distantly I hear the door click shut, it’s groan signaling Lucien’s vacancy. As hard as I can, I throw a wooden spoon towards it. It’s gratifying, but it doesn’t dull the ancient pain inside. I throw another. And another. And another. Until there are no more wooden spoons left, and they have been fated to splinters. 

I began to throw away the food I was preparing. A pot full of potato and cheese soup goes first. The lamb in the oven goes next. Then the sweet cherry pie next to it. I stash away the cups and silverware, nearly shattering them in the process.

This was supposed to be a celebration. Of all the hard work I have put into my restaurant over the last several years. It was opening night, the line was a mile long. Even Rhys and Feyre were there to congratulate me.

But not the one person I wanted most. 

This dinner. This fucking dinner. It was his favorite. Though I suppose it still is. Something I made him when he was upset. But instead of settling my stomach, it made it wretch.

I should send the recipe to Elain, but change one ingredient. Replace the chives with cilantro. He hates cilantro. I know so much about him, he knows so much about me. 

Why… just why couldn’t it have worked?

I’ll never get to see him smile again. Or cry. I’ll never get to hear his laugh. Or braid his hair when he’s sick. I’ll never get to feel his arms around me or hear the sound of him coming in the door. If I’m not gone when he gets all his stuff tomorrow, I just might ask him to stay. 

I deserve better. Someone who will look at me like I’ve hung the moon. Who will pursue me the way Lucien pursues Elain. I deserve unconditional. 

I wish I could still deserve him.

~~~~~~~~~

Part 2

[averydayss]

Every Summertime𓇼

>>contents: in which you try to make Jay jealous by persuading his bestfriend, Sunghoon

>>warnings: fluff, angst

>>now playing: Every Summertime - NIKI

You and Jay are inseparable, the both of you always had been together since the earliest of moments. This started when both of your moms are close friends, which means you two often meet during their hangout.

Jay's mom has a vacation house that they use every summer, and every year your invited to stay during the summer break. And of course you did, so y/n and jay would stay in the vacation house together

At the age of 10, you started to realize that you had developed some feelings for jay. The reason being obvious, Jay was anything a girl could ever wish for. Handsome, kind, smart, sporty, rich, he is a heartthrob in school

Jay didn't liked you that way though, in his eyes you were a little sister to him since he was an only child. Although both did had a situationship for a couple of months, nothing happened though

That didn't really bother you though, after all you both still spent time almost everyday together.

Jay had his fair share of crushes, you did too. But they never really went as far as being more than that, until at the age of 16 Jay had his first real girlfriend, Yujin.

Yujin and Jay met at one of his basketball games and eventually their relationship bloomed into something romantic

"y/n i have some good news for you" Jay said excitedly. "Really? What is it?" Y/n asked curiously.

"Me and Yujin are officially dating" Jay said

Y/ns heart shattered at the new couple. At first Jay and y/n still was close and Jay even told y/n a lot of stories and things he liked about yujin, which you didn't really want to hear but you did anyway for Jay

One day, you were with Danielle. You both were shopping for clothes and bags, and you suddenly saw Yujin kissing a stranger who doesn't look like Jay at all

Isn't that Yujin?" asked Winter. "Yes i think so"

"You should take a picture so you have proof to tell Jay" said winter. You listened to her and took a picture at the sight

After you were done shopping, you went straight to Jay's house. "Jay, i need to tell you something" said y/n while pulling out her phone and showing the picture. "Your lying, its edited. Yujin would never do that, just be happy for me y/n" said Jay

As time went on though, you noticed that Jay was starting to act quite differently. When you would tag along ur mom to go to his house, he would usually invite you to his room to watch movies and play games. But now he would lock himself in his room until you left.

You wanted to confront him at school, but he would always be with yujin. Yujin always had this evil smirk everytime she sees you. You can tell she didn't want you to be close with Jay anymore

Finally, the chance came when both you and Jay's mom decided to have a small gathering at your place, and Jay was forced to tag along. You took this opertunity to approach him and try to strike up a conversation

"Hey we haven't talked much lately, are you good?" Y/n said. "I'm fine" Jay said shortly, not even looking at you but his phone.

"it's going to be summer break soon you know, are you excited to go to your vacation house together?" You emphasized the last word

"Of course, but this year Yujin asked to come along with us. Is that good with you? You can bring someone too if you want" Jay asked. You were shocked, you wanted to refuse. But after all this is Jay's vacation house. "Why not" you said and excused yourself to find someone else to talk to

By the end of the day when the party is over you rushed to your room to call your friends about it. You told them the problem

"Really? That's so inconsiderate of him" said Chaewon on the phone while painting her nails

"If i were you i wouldn't let that slide" Said Danielle. "I know right!, you should bring some man to make him jealous or smth" said Hanni. "You think i should do that?" Y/n asked. "Yeah, if only you 3 would be in the vacation house then you would obviously be the 3rd wheeler" said Danielle

At first you were against the idea, but the more you think about it the more you started to feel like it would work. But a problem is that who would you pick?

You'd pick Soobin, but he already has a girlfriend. You simply can't do that to someones man. A bright idea came into danielles mind though, Sunghoon. He was a perfect candidate

To start off, he was Jay's best friend, he was also single. But you two never really talked to eachother, sure Jay introduced you both a couple of times but you weren't close to him. Still you wanted to try

Y/n: Hey sunghoon! can we meet up? I want to talk to you about something xx

Sunghoon: Sure, why not

Y/n: Lets meet tomorrow at EnCafe at 2pm?

Sunghoon: of course, see you there

You were surprised on how quickly the man agreed, but this was a good thing,

The next day came by, and when you entered the cafe you found Sunghoon. "Hey, how have you been?" Sunghoon had always liked of y/n since they first met. But he never approached y/n since she was always with Jay

"Hey sunghoon, I've been good what about you?" Y/n asked. "Ive been good, what is it that you wanted to talk about?" Asked Sunghoon

"Well Jay has a girlfriend and you know how me and him usually go to his vacation house every summer? Well he is bringing his girlfriend too this year, i was wondering if you'd come along with me this year so i don't feel like a third wheeler?" Y/n asked with pleadingly

"Sure, are you sure Jay is good with this though?" Sunghoon asked excitedly. "He told me i can bring someone so im sure he is good with you invited, besides you two are close" said y/n. "Well then see you soon" Sunghoon asked while trying to contain his smile wider. And with that you found someone

And with that, summer break came in a flash. Now you were currently packing your suitcase to stay at Jay's vacation house for the summer. You were glad that sunghoon came along so you would still have fun after all.

Sunghoons contact name appeared on your phone, he texted you that he would be picking you up with his new car. You smiled at the message and answered.

When the two of you arrived at the vacation house, Jay was cooking beef at the kitchen while Yujin was busy taking photos to post on her socials.

You and Sunghoon went to unpack. The vacation has about 4 bedrooms, perfect for all 4 of you. Jay texted you that he planned a pool party at his vacation house tonight and told you to join.

When u appeared outside of your room, you saw that Yujin's friends are also staying at the vacation house. Great. You were about to ask Jay about it, of course you were. Jay didn't say anything prior to this

Though the first thing you saw was Jay and Yujin making out by the pool. Gross, you thought. You didn't want to admit it but a part did break in you.

At the same time, Sunghoon saw the commotion and saw your helpless face and decided to approach you

"the others are having a bbq grill thingy, care to join" asked Sunghoon

"No im good, ill just go back to my room"

"U like him right?" Asked Sunghoon suspiciously. Y/n was shocked but tried to keep a straight face. "What makes you think that?" Asked y/n

"Its obvious, you always give Jay love eyes everytime you see him" shrugged sunghoon. "I really dont think its any of your concern" said y/n

"Are you kidding me? Ofcouse it is. First you invited me to the stupid vacation house and now your completely distracted with Jay and his GIRLFRIEND" said Sunghoon angrily

"I didn't mean it that way, i just have a lot on my mind right now" said y/n while massaging her temple

"of course you don't" said Sunghoon sarcastically while storming off

The next day you both avoided eachother, you wanted to apologize but you didn't know how to

"So, you and Sunghoon? That's certainly a surprise" asked Jay while leaning on to the fridge after taking his sprite. "Yeah, i guess so"

"Sunghoon has been kinda off these past few days, did anything happen?" Asked Jay. "We just got in a little fight, nothing serious" said y/n

"do you like him?" Asked Jay. "Why does it matter? I don't think its ur business" asked y/n rudely

"Calm down, i was just curious. Why are you so angry?" Said jay. "Of course i am, i wasn't informed that your girlfriend and her minions will be staying at the vacation house" said y/n angrily

"Princess you know i would have informed you, i was just busy with school" you winced at the old nickname. "Sure you are, im gonna find sunghoon" said y/n

Y/n walked through the hallways and approached sunghoon who was busy reading a book. Sunghoon saw y/n at the door frame and raised one of his eyebrow.

"I wanted to apologize for the things i said a few days ago, im sorry I didn't mean it that way" y/n apologized. "You know I've always liked you, but you were to focused on a guy that already had a girlfriend

"I know, i can't help it that i love him Sunghoon" said y/n bitterly. "You know i can help you with that right? Just be with me and ill make your time worth" said Sunghoon

"Sunghoon, i really don't want to make you a rebound" said y/n. "Just give me a month to prove your time worth it" said Sunghoon pleadingly

"Its fine, you don't have too" said y/n trying to hide her smile. Sunghoon smiled and kissed her temple

A few months went by and Sunghoon kept his promise, he was the best boyfriend you could ever asked for. Caring, sweet, and much more. You couldn't have asked for anything more.

During that one month you weren't as close to Jay than before, he tried to contact you but you would always make excuses

Then one day Jay asked to meet at a cafe, you wanted to refuse but he kept begging until you said yes

"Its been a while" Jay said while sipping his coffee. "What do you want to talk about Jay?" Asked y/n

"Me and Yujin broke up, i found out her real intentions of dating me. Im sorry" said Jay. "You didn't do anything wrong, you don't have to apologize" said y/n while fidgeting her fingers

"I was wondering if you want to be my partner for prom? I've known you for so long and if im gonna be honest you looked prettier than you've ever been this past months

"Thanks Jay, but i already said yes to sunghoon's invitation to prom" said y/n

"I don't get it? I thought you liked me? Why are you now close to sunghoon?"

"Sunghoon's nice, incase you didn't know we are dating" said y/n and stood up from her seat and left the cafe

Since that day y/n blocked Jay and lived a happy life with Sunghoon

💳: divider: @snoozebin Other pictures are from pinterest, credits to all the owners

A/N: Send an ask to be moots

[cas-backwards-tie]

Wonderstruck

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Ex!Reader

Summary: Simon Riley finally takes it upon himself to check up on his childhood best friend and ex lover. He's been torturing himself reminiscing on your relationship and what went wrong for years now. Little does he know... you're in the same boat. Having seen someone today you swore was Simon on your way to work, you too, reflect on the past.

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: Cursing, Angst, Stalking(?),

Mentions of: Drinking, Smoking, Motorcycle Riding

A/N: I don't know why but I constantly am getting inspired by certain songs, or am reminded of certain characters, and all the lyrics were just screaming childhood best friends to estranged lovers, right person wrong time Simon Riley. Nevertheless, if you'd love to listen to some versions of the song which inspired me, here we are! Line divider credit: @saradika-graphics and I'd also love to thank @penelopepine for helping me with the ending <3

He knew it was a bad idea as soon as it'd crossed his mind, yet somehow he couldn't rid himself of it time and time again. That's how he found himself here; watching you cross the street, he can't help but notice the vintage band t-shirt you have on, frayed at the edges with the little strings of the hem coming undone that you've refused to cut off. In you hands you clutch a new phone, no doubt an upgrade from the last one he'd seen you with- though it's been a while.

As you mindlessly tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, he can't help the way his insides churn. You were always effortlessly beautiful; you never had to try for anything. Even now, the way you can walk across the busy cobblestone side streets of London in high heels without seemingly second-guessing yourself, body language still poised on guard and ready in case anyone tries anything, just like he'd taught you.

It's clear from your outfit and the lipstick you’re donning that you're attempting to sway the officials at work. Maybe trying for that promotion you’d always been talking about, but never had the gumption to make today the day. What’s different about today, he wonders. You'd always been a go-getter, and truthfully, it was something Simon admired about you. Even in the moments where he'd resented it the most, the constant pestering and prodding at him in an attempt to get him to move and drag him out of the holes his dug himself into...

Where would he be now if only he listened?

What if you knew better?

He couldn't deny that the thoughts kept him up at night while he was away. Though, admittedly, more often than not it was the string of random memories that he’d get glimpses of during the day. It’d always be at the worst times, too. Two weeks ago in Berlin he’d been clapping Kyle on the back, hoping he’ll get it together as he stumbled out the pub. While Soap had the camaraderie to slug half his mate’s weight over his broad shoulders, Simon found himself unable to help as his eyes were drawn in by a couple a few paces down the block.

“Bollocks!” He’d shouted out in frustration. Double-checking himself, he didn’t have a spare cap on him, and he knew he sure as hell didn’t bring an umbrella on your little last minute ‘trip’. Not that he’d really call walking down to the local Tesco for snacks late one summer evening a trip. ‘It’ll be an adventure! Just think of it like that.’ You’d persuaded him.

“What? Are you going to melt?” He hears you joke. As his brown eyes land on your face when you turn to meet his gaze, a few steps ahead of him down the road, he can’t help the smile that breaks out across his lips upon your laughter. Sure, you may both be a little drunk after spending the evening in and having a drink or two. But it doesn’t change the way he feels about you, if anything, it makes him even more keenly aware of the way you affect him.

“Maybe. Who knows?” He teases in responses, tugging his jacket up and over his head to shield himself from the cool summer rain. Despite the time, now he’ll most likely need a shower when you get home. As he jogs to catch up and bring you under his little makeshift cocoon, you do the unexpected.

It was you, of course… he should’ve known better, always testing him, pushing him. With a gentle drop of the plastic bag full of snacks upon the side of the road you’d been strolling down, he watches as you run into the empty street. The streetlights illuminate you in a hazy orangey-yellow light as you begin to spin and twirl, dancing in the street.

With a shake of his head, he’s left stunned once again by the vast difference of your personalities. Your jeans and t-shirt are starting to get damp and discolored, and there’s a taunting, displeased remark sitting on his tongue just waiting to be made. It’s the utter joyous smile on your face as you tip your head back and relinquish yourself to your fate that leaves him wonderstruck, he thinks.

“Come on, Simon!” You beckon, finally meeting his gaze once again with that familiar carefree, hopeful look behind your irises. With an outstretched hand, he knows he can’t deny you this… and really, there’s something inside him that tells him he doesn’t want to, either.

“It’s her, innit?” He hears his Captain’s voice call over his shoulder. Pulled from his memories, Simon dismisses Price with a nonchalant grunt. As the old man tries to place a hand on his shoulder he dodges it, realizing he’s been watching the couple for longer than he’d thought. With Soap and Gaz almost to the end of the block, Simon sighs before shrugging his shoulders to right his jacket and head off in their direction for backup.

That was a time when your playfulness been more easily taken and accepted without question. No fighting, no push back, resentments… maybe that was it: he’d stopped going with the flow. He’d stopped accepting the punches and started dodging and weaving your advances at fixing things and picking up where he left you. Because while it’s too late now, he’s finally realized it for what it is: he left you in the dark, he’s the one who pushed you away, closed himself off.

That night he’d curled up in the temporary bed he’d been assigned, more memories continued to consume him. The way you’d effortlessly ease his worries on nights he’d come home stressed, feathers ruffled from whatever petty drama went on during the day. Whether it was something the guys said that stuck with him, or something he couldn’t get out of his mind when he came back from deployment. Your kisses always seemed to be the cure, your love… or maybe it was just… you.

“You know furrowing your brows like that will cause wrinkles,” you inform him, reaching out to run gentle fingers over his bunched skin.

A grunt of acknowledgment leaves his lips. “More for me to worry about, hm?” While it’s all he says, his eyes are searching over your composure.

“No,” it leaves your lips without thought, “just something to think about, be mindful of. If you’re not upset, then why furrow them?” Voice quiet in the moonlit apartment, your fingers smooth out his brows gently as you admire him. “I read something the other day about how it’s possible our body informs our mental state. If you’re tensing all the time, it won’t help your stress, Si.”

He simply hums in response, doing nothing to stop you as you ghost your lips over his for a moment before planting a loving chaste kiss to his. While big and wide warm hands find the exposed bit of skin between the hem of your sleeping pants and the shirt you wear, it’s the unexpected cool sensation that elicits a muffled gasp. Your much smaller hands are sneaking up underneath his sweatshirt to explore his abdomen, caressing him like he were made of soft silk. Your lips meet again for a chaste kiss.

Then it’s turning into something more; you have to take it slow, your lips dancing against one another, his hand rubbing your back to let you know it’s alright. As you begin to run out of breath, it’s only when you pull away, lashes fluttering against his skin that you ask him. “You know I’d love you even with wrinkles, right?”

Taken aback, he can’t help but stare. Unsure how to respond or what to do, his lips part in search of words. “Is that so?” He finally questions, hand giving your side a soft squeeze.

“My favorite boy… I love you to the moon and back… scars and all. I always have, and I always will, Simon,” you whisper, ghosting his lips again before planting one on him, “I just hope you know that.”

And at the time, he swore he did. It’s odd, really, and he wouldn’t lie to himself about it either. Simon tried dating after you, he tried hooking up, he tried it all… but it never felt right. As many times as he replays the memory, he can never get past the feeling of home. With you, it felt like home. You never made him feel expendable, or worry of the abandonment he knew would inevitably come.

For years afterward he blamed you, he saw it as your fault that you left, you abandoned him… when, maybe, really it’s finally time he admits it was him. He made it a self-fulfilling prophecy, and there was nothing you could do.

It's on your way home from work that you see them; while waiting for the bus, there's a playground in the park a few meters away. Really, the idea that human nature is predictable is always laughable at first, but only after watching people and stepping back to become an observer you've noticed from time to time that... it's more than true. Even from a distance, the children in the park look happy... but that's not what catches your eye. There's a blonde boy, and a girl, much like yourself when you were younger, playing what you can only assume is something halfway between hide and seek and tag, considering the playground offers more space and obstacles than hiding spots.

Perhaps it's the joyous looks on their little faces, or the way they unabashedly play, carefree and unaware of the adult worries and burdens the world hangs above their heads, just waiting any day to drop upon their shoulders unexpectedly. However, you can't help but reminisce on the ways you'd spent your childhood playing games much like the one the children are playing in the distance with a boy, very similar to the one before you, loving life, content, happy, simply aspiring to be the best at finding your ultimate hiding spot.

The soft squeak of the wheels coming to a halt before you and the mechanical release of air as the doors open brings your attention back to the present. Before you know it, you're on the bus, unconsciously taking a seat along the windows, hoping, just maybe you'll catch a glimpse of them as the bus drives down the road down its route. Though as you pass, the sun is beginning to set in the distance, the children departing the playground their separate ways as dusk begins to take its toll and curfew sets in place. The whole time you'd been focused on yourself, it's entirely possible that your own boy wound up beating you at your own game, finding the best spot and hiding himself away from the rest of the world.

Maybe it's the fact that you could've sworn you'd seen someone that looked almost identical to Simon on your way to work this morning, but memories continue to plague your mind for the first time in months. All the weekends he'd spent over at your house doing aimlessly silly things to fill your time, from science projects, to playing 'warrior' outside, you never felt more alive than the time you two spent together.

"I'll keep ya safe, yeah? Nothin' to worry about," Simon insists, gently guiding you to the side of the vehicle. Despite going out with your friends to the city for dinner, you both were sober. It should be fine, it would be. You'd been with him a million times... how different could it be? He'd run it by you as many times as you'd asked.

You swear it's not a good idea, but you trust him to the ends of the Earth. With a look over your shoulder, his brown eyes are steady, not uncertain in his unwavering gaze as he nods in assurance. Swinging a leg over the seat, you're in front this time. Helmets in place, hands on the clutch and brakes, you make eye contact with Simon once more before he flicks both your visors down. "Ready?" You ask him.

"More than ready, Love," he quips. With a quick shove to the kickstand, balance (with Simon's help of course), and a rev of the engine, you start the motorcycle off slowly. Gloved hands around your waist, he gives you a gentle squeeze.

He was always pushing you out of your comfort zone, that one. It was the first time you'd driven his motorcycle, and while it'd been scary and daunting for the first fifteen minutes, you eventually got used to it and it blossomed into something freeing. You understood then why he likes it, and you'd never been more grateful for someone pushing you out of your bubble. While flashes of all the kisses, caresses, and intimate moments between the two of you start to effervesce, you force yourself to remember the last time you'd seen him.

With a lingering hug, you're hesitant to let him go. Even if you know it's necessary, it's still hard... it always has been. "You'll let me know when you get in, right?" You ask, searching his eyes. They stand out from the black warpaint, his uniform always made him look handsome, even if you couldn't imagine how intimidating seeing his actual attire would be in his enemies position.

A dismissive and irritated grunt meets your ears as he shrugs your hands off. He'd packed quickly, something he's been doing more recently; taking more and more jobs, you've begun worrying for his health, not that he'd talk about it, of course. "If I 'ave time."

While you weren't able to get all the details on this excursion, you did manage to get that it was essentially a 'clean-up' for him. He had to go in and make sure that the hostages they'd had a lead on were all rescued and no one was left behind, no assailants or informants lingering or hiding. You've known that his job is hard on him. Losing people can't be easy, especially when you feel like you could've done things differently and changed the ending to their stories. Yet, you also know that throwing yourself into work the way he's been doing without talking to anyone, simply managing to pass debrief counseling by whatever meter their measuring is... not working. Not anymore, at least.

"You're running from this! You won't even answ-" you shout, gesticulating as you do everything in your power to keep the anger and worry that's tightly wound wrapped up in your gut under control, not to let anymore of it seep out than already has.

"An' you're one to talk?! You don't get to interrogate me," he argues, rounding the couch to get closer. The dark circles under his eyes scream volumes, even if he's unwilling to acknowledge whatever's going on for him. "I deal with that enough in my line o' work. Don't-"

"Simon," you say, tone holding that familiar warning tone.

You'd gotten home safely and were able to change and make something to eat. The feelings haven't left the cavity of your chest, still lingering there, the way he always does. He may be 'Ghost' on the field, yet he still haunts your memories, always making you question whether or not you did the right thing. What if only you'd done more? What if you hadn't pushed him so much? It wasn't always in a bad way, either, in fact, most of the time you'd find yourself chuckling randomly at some inside joke only the two of you share, or something he'd find funny. The stolen sweaters and hoodies you know for a fact long ago washed away his scent. Even if you swear sometimes that you can smell the faint odor of cigarettes he used to smoke. In the city when you're out with the girls you'd find yourself fondly inhaling the smell whenever a stranger would be smoking one nearby.

You'd cursed him: Simon Riley. Yet, the aching inside you he left often made you feel like he there's some sense of closure he never fully gave you. The SAS would tell you that he'd get your letters, even if you stopped writing years ago a little while after the split. You never got a response, and you never really expected one. Simon never really was one for letter writing. It was the only way you felt like you could get that closure, that part of your life done with. Ultimately, it did help you move on in some way.

A sigh tumbles past your lips as you change the channel on the television, unsure what you really feel like watching. A reality comedy show is on, something of a local prank show. It wasn't the best show, really, but it's one you used to watch a lot as a kid, and thus, another reminder of him. This one makes you smile, nonetheless. It's a good memory; nostalgia envelopes you in the way that makes you crave times that felt easier. Just when you wrap yourself in your fuzzy blanket, there's a soft rapt at the door.

Heart accelerating, eyes widening slightly, you slowly rise from the couch. The television volume isn't on loud, and while there may be light coming from it to inform a stranger you're home, that isn't enough to say that you're alone. With slow and cautious steps, you approach the door, careful to check the window near the door from a vantage point you're unseen. It's a man in a black hoodie. Panic sets in and you turn to skillfully head back toward the couch in search of your phone with quiet and quick steps. That's when it strikes you.

With all pretenses abandoned, you rush to the door and fling it open, lips parted in shock and awe. "Simon?" Searching and attempting to scan the partially shielded face, you're able to see tufts of blonde hair lit from the porch light.

"I know you've no reason to-" he starts, hands removing themselves from his hoodie's pocket, "but please let me come in and explain."

"You came back," you whisper. It's more for yourself than him, and whether it's out of bewilderment, intuitive knowing, or a premonition; you were right.

As he takes a step forward and reaches out for you with shaky hands produced from the familiar black pocket of his hoodie, you don't retract. Slow and tentative movements on both ends, he grabs ahold of one hand, thumb consciously skirting back and forth repeatedly in a form of grounding and seeking comfort. "You were right," his deep voice rasps.

Your hand cautiously seeks his cheek beneath the shield of his hood. Fully expecting to meet the spandex material of his balaclava, you're surprised by the warmth of his skin underneath your gentle touch. Wrist pushing against the cotton hood, it gives way, revealing his face. Searching his deep brown eyes for any sign he's genuine... you're met with truth.

With a weak nod you turn, leaving the door to shut softly behind the two of you.

~~~~~~~

forever taglist: @ohdamnadam , @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic , @moonlightsolo

[eitaababe]

Hiiii can i make a request for a possessive neteyam 🥹 i need one where he x reader argue, and he says something hurtful because he’s jealous and reader goes to leave the hut to cool off because she’s hurt but he makes it up to her ;) WINK WINK maybe a little touch of a begging neteyam as well hehe

Dirty filthy nasty talk as well sorry I’m done now LMAO

SOMEONE ELSE !

a/n — hi love! sorry i don't really feel comfortable writing smut with neteyam (or anyone lmao) just yet 😭 so i just made it a lil suggestive at the end i hope that's ok!! / also since the end is suggestive and implied to lead to something neteyam's aged up cause he's a minor and that would be awk🧍‍♂️

—

To say you and Neteyam were inseparable was practically an understatement. Ever since you'd met as kids, you always stuck together. You were there for each other when you got your ikrans, even, and you'd always go on rides together. A dynamic duo, people liked to call you.

So of course, when his family left the clan for the safety of everyone, you couldn't just let your mate leave you. So with some convincing and promising that the Sully's would take you in as their own, your parents reluctantly agreed, deciding you could choose your own future.

Though you missed the forrest, being by the ocean was something you'd never experienced before, and it was one of the most beautiful sights you've ever seen. There were so many creatures and the people were different in many ways, you were excited to learn about everything.

However, you grew less and less thrilled when you realized the time you spent with Neteyam would diminish to very little. He was always out and about, getting to ride his ilu and protecting his siblings from those in the village who looked down upon them. He was always so stressed, so tired, that when you did hang out, you always felt like a burden, or an argument would start.

So you started to keep your distance, and as a result, met new people and made new friends. You started to enjoy the presence of a boy named Rotxo, who was allegedly one of Ao'nung's friends. You were skeptic at first, not hearing so good things about his friend, but the more you got to know him, he became a trustworthy friend. He heard all about your struggles with Neteyam, always a good listener and giving good advice.

Although, Neteyam didn't see you and Rotxo's relarionship as anything friendly. In fact, whenever he spotted you two, he could be sulking for the rest of the day. Granted, it was his fault you two haven't been talking as much, and he could probably just have talked to you about it. But he didn't know how, and as a result, you'd found another person to fill his company.

Was he really that easy to replace?

Finally having enough, Neteyam wordlessly grabbed your arm, dragging you away mid-conversation with Rotxo. He ignored your protests and took to a secluded area, stopping only to be met with a harsh glare.

"What the hell, Neteyam?" You shouted, crossing your arms. Yikes. He didn't think that one through. "What's your problem? I was talking to him!"

"Well maybe I don't want you talking to him!"

"Why?" You inquired, annoyed at his antics. "You don't get to decide who I can and can't talk to. I'm my own person. Plus he's my friend. And he's been better company than you, as of late."

His heart dropped at the blow, knowing you were right. "It just makes me uncomfortable, okay? I don't like him being close to you."

"Oh, you don't like someone else enjoying my company? Sorry Neteyam, but I'm not going to wait around alone and close myself off from everyone else just because you refuse to talk to me! I happen to enjoy talking to Rotxo, and there's nothing you can do that will stop me."

"Fine then," he snapped, jealousy overcoming him. "Go! Go be with Rotxo. See if I care," he paused, sinking his fingers into the palms of his fists and unable to stop himself from digging an even bigger whole. "I have others who want my company. There's many metkayina women who would enjoy my presence."

Offended that he would say such a thing, you scoffed, not recognizing the man standing in front of you. "Fine then! Go be with another woman!"

"I will!" He responded without thinking, immediately regretting it when he saw the look on your face.

"I never want to see you again." You seethed, eyes glossy as you walked hastily away from him, leaving a regretful Neteyam.

The days that passed by all felt like a blur, your heart throbbing. Did he really mean that? Was he tired of you? Were you making a mistake when you decided to follow him and his family? Rotxo listened to all your worries, comforting you and helping you avoid Neteyam at all costs.

He kept looking for you, wanting a chance to apologize. He wishes he had just kept his mouth shut, or went after you once you walked away. The scene replayed in his head constantly, thinking of what he could've done different to make you not hate him.

So he waited until after eclipse, and when everyone else went to bed, he went out to the beach, knowing you would be there. You always enjoyed the solitude of nighttime, when nobody else was awake and you could watch the waves peacefully on your own.

Neteyam slowly made his way up to you, awkwardly clearing his throat to grab your attention. When you actually turned around and focused on him he was shocked, wide eyed and speechless. "Um, hi."

"Hi." you curtly responded, ready to leave when he grabbed your hand.

"Please, y/n. I want to apologize." He pleaded.

You gave him a look, as if saying to get on with it. He hesitated, not completely sure what to say. "I'm...i'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Any of it. I was jealous that you were spending more time with Rotxo."

You stayed silent still, making him nervous. "And I don't want another woman," he added, looking you dead in the eye. "I wouldn't dream of it. You are the one I want to be with for the rest of my life. You are kind, sweet, loyal, and have been nothing but the best for me. I took that for granted, so when I saw you enjoying the company of another, it pissed me off. I cannot stand the thought of you being with someone who isn't me." he stopped, and you noticed his eyes starting to glimmer in the moonlight.

"I'm sorry. Truly. And if you don't forgive me I understand." Neteyam finally finished, his chest rising up and down shakily.

"Oh, ma Neteyam," you cooed, taking his face in your hands. You wiped away the tears that fell down his face with your thumbs, kissing where they fell. "I could never want anyone other than you. I just need you to talk to me next time, okay? No more keeping your problems from me. I'm here to help you with your burdens, not hide them."

The boy nodded wordlessly, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. "I promise, my love. I will never make you feel like I want someone else again."

He then trailed kisses down your jaw, lips softly moving over the skin of your neck. His teeth grazed over it, biting lightly. He chuckled from the soft sound that left your throat, kisses drifting down below your neck. He pressed you against a tree, knee separating your legs.

"Neteyam, not here." You breathed out, not making any attempt to stop him. But, you really didn't want to get caught by anyone in a public area like this.

"Shh, my love," he soothed, hands wafting towards your loincloth. "I'm gonna make it up to you, okay?"

Oh, you were in for a long night.

—

a/n — i literally had no idea how to write the ending i'm sorry if it's bad 🧍‍♂️

[venerawrites]

Hello!

Would you have any ideas or headcannons for a gn!reader, who is a florist, has a crush on Viktor but doesn't know how to express it? I have a feeling it could lead to some funny misunderstandings... Maybe even Viktor finding flowers randomly on his doorstep...

author's note: guess who's back? recently, I had the inspiration to write again and this is such a cute request, I just had to start with this one! Thank you for requesting and more importantly for your patience! <3

P.S - also I have 0 idea about the meaning of flowers, so if any of these don't make sense, blame Google. <3

If not for Jayce, Viktor would probably live in the lab. His routine usually consisted of arriving early in the morning and leaving almost at midnight, long after everyone had gone home. In his mind, there was no point in going out - not only it was a struggle for him to move freely around the busy streets of Piltover, but he also had 0 interest in being anywhere BUT the lab. What else could be more important (and exciting) than working on the Hexcore after all?

He soon learned that for his friend and partner, Councillor Medarda's birthday WAS in fact more important than working for the future of Piltover. And while he stubbornly refused to join him in his hunt for an appropriate present, on the third day of Jayce's begging and pulling the "we are not only partners, we are brothers" card, he reluctantly agreed to accompany him to the nearby market.

They have been going from stall to stall for almost an hour now and Viktor was far from happy. His leg was hurting and Jayce kept asking him for his opinion about dresses and perfumes and all these stuff both of them had no idea about.

In the end, Jayce ended up with two bags full of different objects as he "could not really choose". "Great, now to the flower shop!", smiled the tall man, gently nudging his partner in the ribs. "You've got so many presents already, why would you go to ANOTHER shop?", asked Viktor with a sigh, already knowing there was no point in arguing with the other male. He stood up from the bench he was sitting on, clenching his teeth once he felt the muscles in his leg spasming. "Women love flowers", pointed out Jayce as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He paused for a few seconds, before furrowing his brows and looking at his partner almost unsure. "Right?" Viktor sighs, debating if he should say what he really thinks or what Jayce wants to hear. Finally, he decides on the latter. "Right."

Viktor hasn't really kept in touch with anyone from the Academy so seeing you, his old classmate, working as a florist was an unexpected, but pleasant surprise. After a brief chat, interrupted every so often by Jayce, who kept asking different questions about the numerous flower options in the shop, you agreed to catch up for a coffee on the weekend.

But one coffee "date" soon became two and just within a few weeks, it was a ritual for both of you to meet at least two times per week.

For Victor, it was nice having a friend other than Jayce. In a way, speaking with someone who was not involved in science or Hexcore was almost a relief - it gave him the opportunity to speak about topics OTHER than work, such as hobbies and everyday life.

For you, however, what started as just catching up with an old classmate soon turned into... more. You always thought Viktor was a charming man - even during your Academy days - but you never really got to know him, as he always had his nose buried in textbooks. But the more time you spent with him now, the more fascinated you became with his wit, knowledge, and humour.

It is not a surprise you fell fast AND hard for him. But did he feel the same? It was hard to tell. He wasn't the type to openly flirt, but you have noticed small things such as the way his cheeks became a light red colour every time you accidentally brushed hands or the way his gaze studied your profile every time he thought you were not looking. He also always seemed to listen attentively to everything you were saying and often tried to stir the conversation toward you and your interests, rather than him.

Unsure how to "test the waters", you decided to show your affection the best way you knew how - with the language of flowers.

At first, you tried to leave hints secretly. You would leave a few fresh ranunculus flowers at his front door on your way to work, or drop sweet peas at the reception of his work, asking the doorman to deliver them in the lab during his lunch break.

Despite being one of the smartest men in Piltover, Viktor's ability to read clues was pretty much non-existent. "I think someone is targeting me", he said in a hushed voice one afternoon while you walked in the park together. You raised a brow, confusion, and worry written all over your face. He seemed almost reluctant to share more, but as you continue to stare at him, he adds with a sigh: "I keep receiving these... flowers. At my house, at my work... I think they are a sign someone is after me. Have you ever read the book "The Rose Symbol"? In it, the killer sends flowers to his victims as a warning before he strikes", he scratched his chin, completely oblivious to the way your eyes widened and your face became completely red. "And interestingly, Jayce does not receive anything... so whoever it is, they must have a knowledge of my work specifically. They are trying to stop me from developing the Hexcore."

Needless to say after this "admission", you stopped leaving flowers for him, too ashamed of the fact none of your clues were picked up, and also scared of the possibility that you may somehow make him more paranoid.

Unknowingly to you, your attitude around him changed too - you were somewhat more reserved and you started to find excuses as to why you cannot hang out with him. While you did not do it on purpose, deep inside you did feel the need to put some distance between you, especially for the sake of your own feelings.

Viktor may be blind to hints, but the sudden tension in your relationship did not escape him. It did not take long for him to put two and two together and realise that "coincidently" the flowers stopped coming after he shared his "worry" with you.

Two weeks passed since your last meeting and Viktor decided it was time to "confront" you by dropping unannounced by your shop. And for you, it was definitely a surprise to find him in front of the shop's door after closing hours, clutching a bouquet of red tulips close to his chest. He didn't even greet you, before shoving the flowers in your face, a bright red colour covering his cheeks. "For you...", he mumbled, his eyes glancing at you, before moving away just as quickly. You quirked a brow, looking at the flowers, before tilting your head to the side. "I ... Thank you!", you smile, confusion written all over your face, "What is the occasion?" Viktor stayed silent for a moment, before clearing his throat. "I know you were the one leaving me flowers. And I wanted to say I do reciprocate your affection", he recited seriously, almost as if he had practiced this sentence hundreds of times. The rosy colour on your cheeks now spread all over your face to the tip of your ears. "Oh.."

Viktor did not say anything more about it, instead offering to accompany you on your way home. The walk was filled with laughter and awkward jokes, and the tension, that had formed between you during the past few weeks, quickly started to melt.

Slowly, your relationship started to rebuild, but this time something was different. While you quickly fell back to your old habits of spending afternoons and weekends together, you also started to get physically closer - small brushes of your fingers, which after a while started to wrap around each other; long gazes into each other's eyes; shy smiles, every time any of you made a bad attempt at a flirty joke.

As someone who had only one short-term relationship in the past, Viktor would take things very slowly, but it will be very obvious he does like you (even when it takes him months to actually admit it to you and ask you on an official date!).

cc artwork: Neil Ross

[ctrlsatoru]

DIABLO - TOJI FUSHIGURO

content: techbro billionare!toji, reader is gojo's little sister, age gap (toji's in his mid 30s, reader in mid 20s) kind of ooc toji, suggestive themes, no smut yet. warnings: 18+ only. suggestive themes. explicit language, references to sexual assault. toji having no sense of decorum. reader is engaged so, cheating? but not really and not yet. minors do not interact. pairing: toji fushiguro x afab gojo!reader word count: 8k a/n: i was listening to diablo by lexie liu and the rest was herstory. started as porn without plot but things escalated. will proofread this later. summary: Toji Fushiguro looks like a problem, and you know better than to let curiosity get the best of you, until boredom strikes.

There was a time when you speed-walked through this very same building with the drive that only a determined intern could contain. Six days a week, from busy mornings to late nights, you embraced every task they tossed your way, seamlessly transitioning between the demands of different editors.

In the midst of it, one newly appointed creative director saw your efforts and took you under her wing. What began as a professional mentorship soon evolved into an enduring friendship that extended well beyond your time at the magazine.

Utahime Iori, a guiding presence in your life, became one of your favorite people in the world—a friend with whom you shared an unspoken understanding, effortlessly reading each other's thoughts with a single exchange of glances across the room.

Fast-forward five years, and the abrupt, intrusive ring of your phone tucked under the pillow shook you awake. It was Iori on the line, her voice laden with urgency and distress. She was stuck in Kyoto, needing you to do her a solid one. Her father’s condition had worsened overnight, and she wouldn’t be able to make it back to Tokyo for a critical photoshoot.

And so, here you stand, back at the bustling headquarters of the technology and culture magazine where you started your career. Despite your throbbing headache and the relentless fatigue that clings to your tired eyelids, you refuse to let your friend down.

Today's mission: capturing profile photos for an enigmatic tech mogul, a figure so elusive that no magazine has ever managed to secure an interview or collaboration. Probably some Zuckerberg from shein with an amped-up eccentric, incel overlord edge.

Iori had shared the name and a brief overview of the assignment during her desperate call, but the details had slipped through your grasp in the haze of your concern for her.

If you remember correctly, the concept is something corny along the lines of Diablo. 

“Ok,” you breathe after the third scalding gulp of coffee that someone thrust in your hand the second you arrived.

Utahime's assistant, a young girl with striking blue hair and asymmetrical bangs named Miwa, looks up from her phone at you with bright eyes, relieved that you’re finally showing signs of life. 

“Uh, who the fuck is this guy again?” 

You’re momentarily distracted by how cold this place is. A shiver cuts a straight line up your spine. July in Tokyo is no justification for keeping the set at industrial fridge temperature, you think. For some reason, Miwa’s opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of the water. You know Utahime can make any seasoned truck driver sound graceful when she’s under enough pressure, so it can’t be your choice of words.

You fail to notice your surroundings coming to a stop, or the shadow towering over you.

“Toji. Toji Fushiguro.”

Oh.

That's one way to sober you up.

You’re definitely awake after hearing the deep yet smooth rumble behind you. Everyone within earshot gets ready for what’ll happen next as that oh shit realization settles on your shoulders.

But you’re no longer the eager intern who hid in the bathroom to cry after a rookie mistake. Nothing in your face gives away your heart threatening to crawl out of your ribcage. You turn around bravely and face a soft, dark blue surface. 

No choice left but to look up… and up again, until he’s framed inside the thin silver structure of your glasses.

Your first impression of him is simple: no one this tall should stand at this close of a distance. There should be two, or three meters between you to make up for the lack of an acceptable height.

Toji Fushiguro -the name does stick this time- tilts his head to the side and gives you what might be the most shameless once-over. His eyes feel like a dark green horizontal light scanning you from head to toe. It ends with a quizzical expression on his face. The irk is triggered within the second.

“Who are you?”

That same question pops into your mind.

The hair team probably spent twice the time it took you to get here on LA traffic to arrange his inky black hair in the perfect unbothered way. There’s a healthy glow on the sharp edges of his face that can only be the result of seamless natural makeup, enhancing his ruggedly handsome looks. 

You’re thinking that by too big, Iori meant that he’s massive. Literally. Wide shoulders block the tungsten spotlight behind him, casting a shadow on you and drawing a luminous halo around his silhouette. 

Nothing’s angelic about him. You can tell just by looking. It’s a family gift. You may not have your brother’s electric baby blues, but you have the sight, as he calls it, and the alarms in your head are off.

Miwa shifts her gaze between you like she’s about to shit herself when Choso, the head photographer and a good friend of yours, cuts through the tense atmosphere with admirable ease. He rests a warning hand on your shoulder and takes it upon himself to introduce you. 

"She'll be our director today, stepping in for Utahime."

Toji Fushiguro turns to Choso, his eyes never leaving you, observing. 

“Why? What happened to Utahime?”

"She had an unexpected family emergency and asked her to fill in. She's worked with us before, and she's excellent at what she does. You're in capable hands today."

What a star, Choso. A beacon of diplomacy. The world would be a much more peaceful place and the arms industry would collapse if he got into politics, you’re sure. 

Still under his scrutiny, your expression remained composed. You knew his steely smile would fade soon, and—

“Well, that’s all that matters, isn’t it?” Toji concludes breezily, extending his hand toward you.

You reciprocate. Unlike him, you don’t even look down to see how his palm engulfs yours. You just know it will. He on the other hand lifts both eyebrows at your firm handshake.

“I look forward to working with you, Gojo.”

Two hours in, it occurs to you that it might be the case that everyone on set is under some kind of horny spell.

Him nearly walking through the backdrop five minutes in and laughing it off with a cocky comment and a devilish grin sets the entire set on edge from the get-go.

Apparently there’s something about an overwhelmingly tall, ripped, attractive grown man pouting like an iPad kid when his tiny but scary female assistant comes in between breaks to confiscate his phone. There’s a brutish charm about him that makes people act like Victorian gentlemen glimpsing an ankle for the first time in their lives.

The wardrobe assistants are in a heated discussion about how many hands it would take to wholly grasp his bulging biceps.

You, however, remain the skeptic, observing from the fringes. Though if you took any part in the conversation, you’d point out how fucking thick his neck is. Does he lift weights with that thing? What does he need all that for?

When the makeup artist approaches him for touch-ups, he widens the distance between his feet until his face reaches a comfortable height for her to work away. The behind-the-scenes team gobbles it up like ravenous piranhas, and you expect to see this doing numbers on the magazine’s YouTube channel. 

Done with feeling out of the loop and not satisfied with what you catch from the set gossip, you take a bathroom break and allow curiosity to get the best of you. You lock the stall door, sit on the lid, and google him.

His name auto-completes after just three letters. You stare at the Toj on the search bar before digging in.

Techbro, self-made, controversial, messy family background. He was the mastermind behind the acclaimed video game, Diablo, which exploded in popularity during the early 2000s. For years, he's faced criticism in several countries for glorifying violence, gang activity and accusations of satanism. You have to chuckle at that. Nonetheless, Diablo hit it off big and he went on to found a videogame and software company under the same name. He's been steadily encroaching on giants like Tencent after repeatedly refusing buyout offers.

Buzzfeed has a trove of ridiculous articles filled with GIFs of him looking scary and hot at the same time, of him looking like the bodyguard of everyone’s dreams, of him taking no shit from the press. Of him looking like a character out of his videogame. You get the idea.

But something else in the personal life section draws your attention.

He’s a Zenin. And not a distant one. He’s Naobito Zenin’s very own nephew. 

According to a twitter thread, he severed ties with his fucked up dynasty of a family when he was younger and paved his own way under his late wife’s last name. The reasons for the fallout are unknown to the public, but theories are abundant in the replies. You bookmark that for later.

You can't help but wonder if your brother knows him.

With all this newfound context, you’re almost disappointed that he showed no offense to your frankly rude introduction. After all, you’re a Gojo, the impulse to antagonize a Zenin runs through your veins. And if it’s not an inherited impulse, Satoru personally taught you how to handle them. One of your favorite early teen memories of your brother is watching him reduce Naoya Zenin to tears.

The handshake felt layered, like a declaration of war tucked behind a steely smile. There’s a glint in his eyes when he catches you looking that contradicts the unbothered, enigmatic persona people are simping for religiously online. It’s there and it’s gone, but you’re fast enough. It tells you that he’s playing nice as a temporary measure. If you have to guess, he’s planning to make his team bring up your misstep up to the magazine higher-ups.

You're torn between concern for Utahime and a deep-seated desire to see him try.

The day unfolds smoothly with minimal intervention on your part. You stay behind the monitor and let the crew do their job. Your role mainly involves offering insights when requested by the wardrobe team and flagging promising shots with Choso.

Seeing him go through different stages of boredom and despite his not-so-wide variety of facial expressions, you note the camera doesn’t hate him. It's a unanimous consensus that, in another life, he could have pursued a career in modeling, or perhaps even acting. When someone inquires about your opinion on the matter, you become the focal point of a few discreet side-eyed glances. Your response is a non-committal hum. 

Your attention is currently fixated on the last sequence of preview shots displayed on the screen, there’s a very specific detail that you just can’t let pass.

“Can we take a quick break? I wanna try something.”

Choso, taken aback by your sudden initiative, responds, “Yeah, of course, take your time.”

Toji’s face drops from the draw of his eyebrows as you approach him.

“Hi,” he says with that off-putting lift of the corners of his mouth that is supposed to be a smile. He’s probably thinking that your stalling is only prolonging what he wants to be over with.

“Hi,” you catch his inquisitive glance at the objects in your hand. “Is it okay with you if I wipe off your scar?”

His eyes snap down at yours as he thinks it over, squinting for a bit. You’re certain he’s about to tell you to fuck off when he nods briskly, opening his palms as if beckoning you closer.

“Go ahead.”

It's a polite, seemingly harmless green light, yet it feels like you're a bird about to peck at grains of rice beneath a box suspended by a stick.

“Can you—”

He reads your hesitation and does the same thing you’ve seen several times today. He opens the distance between his feet, clasping his hands behind his back. You, for some reason, wait until he looks up at the ceiling like people on the makeup chair usually do out of instict, but he stares at you instead.

Taking a Q-tip soaked in micellar water, you start working away the thin but high coverage layer of foundation, careful not to overdo the edges. A few swipes in and the natural rosy hue of scarred tissue appears, a few shades darker than the color of his lips. It’s a slender, vertical ridge that cuts across his lips, about an inch long. A feature too distinct to waste.

You pull back and he takes the brief chance to run his tongue across the scar, pulling a face at the taste he finds.

Unfazed, you wipe away any excess micellar water and—well, his saliva, you assume—with the dry side of the cotton swab. Once you’re done with that you pat away with a disposable puff dipped in translucent power, just to get rid of any unnecessary shine.

“All good? You satisfied?”

“Yes.”

“Cause you don’t look satisfied.”

You’re happy with the outcome of your tweaking, yes. The overall shooting? Well, you’re not in love with it, but you don’t have to be. This whole thing has Utahime’s and the magazine’s aesthetic written all over it, harsh contrasts, blunt shadow. 

“This is Utahime’s concept, I’m going with the brief,” You answer, taking a step back to get an overall look and consider any further touch-ups, stopping him when he starts to go up again. “No. Stay right there.”

“What concept would you go for?” he asks, complying pointedly.

“Like I said, I’m going with the brief I was given.”

“But if you were the original director?”

You wouldn't even be assigned to the task. You left the magazine shortly after you finished your internship and never looked back, even though you liked it here and were being given a much nicer offer than you were expecting. The reason for it being that you found out that your brother had been wining and dining members of the home editorial, showing interest in negotiating for the magazine.

It was a no-brainer for you to part ways and find another way. These days, you work with brands and entertainment agencies that allow for more creative freedom, usually sought out for your particular aesthetic. 

“I wouldn’t be so heavy on making the tech oligarch look human.” 

You reply more out of impulse than calculation, the same way you touch a cat’s tail knowing there will be consequences.

“You suggesting I don’t look human?” He flashes a cold grin at you, kind of like a warning. it’s gone as soon as you blink at him.

The novelty has worn off. Most of the crew are busy doing their own thing, discussing lunch and stretching to alleviate the fatigue of a long day. A few lingering glances remain trained on you— Miwa, Choso, his soldier of an assistant. Toji doesn’t wait for your answer.

“So, what do I look like, then?”

Like a shark, you think. Don’t ever grin at me again, creep.

“You’re a curious one, aren’t you?”You tug lightly at the neckline of his shirt, just a pinch of the fabric, barely touching him at all. "Maybe that should be included in the profile."

He hums. “I do get bored easily.”

You conclude the brief interaction and walk away, acknowledging Choso with a nod, all the while ignoring the way Toji’s amused eyes linger on you.

Like you’re just postponing the inevitable. Whatever that might be.

He finds you later that day, after you’ve wrapped up.

He enters the room with the unspoken confidence of someone who believes he owns not just the studio, but the entire building. Like he's just acquired the magazine and now feels entitled to disrupt your peace with a shitty opening sentence.

“Your work.” 

You look up from your phone and find him in the mirror in front of you. The hair and makeup team packed their stuff a while ago, all the stations are clean and deserted, and only the lights remain on.

 “It’s… interesting. The butterflies, are they alive?”

You look up from your phone and find him in the mirror in front of you. The hair and makeup team packed their stuff a while ago, all the stations are clean and empty, and only the lights remain on.

“Sorry?” You’re unable to hide your annoyance at the unexpected interruption.

“I googled you. Your work. It’s eye-catching, quite… I guess eccentric’s a good way to describe it. Very edgy.”

You’ve heard your fair share of similar comments in the past, but he pouts and frowns with the last two words and irritation pulls at you. You let your hands drop to your lap.

He leans nonchalantly against the door frame, arms crossed, undeterred by your silence and your less-than-friendly attitude.

“I was wondering, are the butterflies real or is it CGI?”

You can’t for the life of you decide if he’s being serious, or decipher his intentions. “Neither. They’re props.”

“They look very realistic.”

“They do,” you agree. “That’s the intention.”

“And the flowers?”

“Those are real. For the most part.”

“I see. So how would you have me?”

“Excuse me?” 

He visibly fights back a smile, and you wonder if this one would’ve reached his eyes, but seeing how you’re going back and forth like you can’t let the other get the last word, you doubt it. You doubt that he’s capable of such a human thing. Smiling warmly. Honestly.

“You said not so heavy on the looking human earlier, so what concept would you go for if we worked together?”

Because he won't leave you alone to discuss dinner plans with Satoru and Suguru, you stand up from your seat and turn around to rest against the floating station. Facing him like this feels a lot safer than speaking to him through the mirror while giving him your back.

He’s dressed in his own clothes, a basic light gray t-shirt several tighter than the soft material the stylist put on him and a pair of dark jeans. His phone is, as usual, attached to his hand, constantly lighting up with notifications.

“I don’t know. It usually takes me a week to get a feel of the concept.”

“I saw the tank pictures,” he replies a bit too quickly as if he didn't care for your answer. You’re certain that you don’t like this man. You don’t like how bluntly he describes your work, or that you immediately know what he’s talking about.

Knowing how things went on that particular set and from the way he looked absolutely done in the most basic environment without having to do much work, that would be a disaster.

“I wouldn’t put you in a tank,” You snort dismissively, and he tilts his head curiously.

“So?”

A string of visual prompts runs through your mind. You’d submerge half of his face in black tinted water, or have his head resting on a white surface, make blood spill from his eyes. Perhaps you'd drown him in smoke or apply early 2000s mechanical prosthetics to his face and neck. You’d make his skin flush like rubies as if it were burning to the touch. In every single one of them, his scar is left untouched.

“Nothing you’d be comfortable with.” 

“You see, I think we could meet in the middle.” he reasons, very eloquently, like he knows just what to say to negotiate with you. You imagine that this is the same voice he uses with his board members to bend them his way. “Can’t say I’d be down for the body-pilling thing or the full-body suits, but I’m sure we could come up with something that leaves us both satisfied.”

“Are you trying to hire me right now?” You’re genuinely confused. And hungry, and tired, and nursing a lingering hungover.

“No,” he chuckles, like the notion is absurd “but you looked bored on set today, and I think I could live up to your vision, is that the word?”

“Right, uh huh.” you nod, very condescendingly, remembering that you’re no longer filling up for anyone or hold any professional responsibility. This is just some man wasting your time. “So what is this? You got a praising kink or something?” 

He’s unbothered by your dig. “Not that I know of. Can I be honest?” 

You lift your shoulder in a half-hearted gesture. It's not as though he cares about seeking permission anyway. 

He lets his eyes drop to the floor and looks back up at you with a bashful little grin. 

“I’ve just always wanted to fuck a married woman.”

You’re not as surprised as you are relieved that he’s cut to the chase. He’s not the first man to detest you and want you at the same time. Men often blur the lines between disdain and sex. It’s only fun when they don’t get too comfortable or want to only deliver and fold when it’s their turn to take. 

The situation settles on you. The room seems smaller now, and the distant sounds of people outside have all but faded away. He's blocking your only exit, put you in this tight spot intentionally.

There’s a possibility that he’s some exception to the norm, that he can take as much as you suspect he can give, but you’re not going to find out.

“Too honest?” He's devoid of any shame or attempts to sound apologetic. Instead, he's assessing you closely, monitoring you for any reaction.

You know men like him. He has to be used to people eagerly dropping to their knees with just a tilt of his chin. Most of the people you worked with today would do so without hesitation. But Toji Fushiguro, with his insincere smile and unflinching demeanor, harbors far more selfish and hostile motives than bending you over the same chair you were sitting in and making you watch in the spotless mirrors.

 “Should’ve kept my intentions to myself?”

A corner of your lips lifts, and he zeroes in on it.

“Didn’t scare ya, did I? You’re a big girl, you're not gonna run.”

He’s daring you now. Fully predatory, like he’ll do something at the slightest indication. Shark. You picture him stalking his way into this secluded space that only the crew knows about after finishing recording videos for the magazine’s social media accounts, his shadow looming across the narrow corridor. 

Fear and power. That’s his deal. He either wants to witness a furious flush down your neck, your throat bob in trepidation and your hand look for your phone–

“And do what?” You cross your arms, refusing to cower. “MeToo you? Expose Japan’s mysterious self-made billionaire hellboy? Reddit would riot.”

–Or he wants you to bite back.

“I mean, considering the way you were eyefucking me I think I could probably pull the reverse MeToo card on you.” 

Your chin drops, your eyebrows go up, and your head leans back at the accusation. Were you? Eyefucking him? Maybe.

But so was the whole room. 

And nothing’s stopping you from bullshitting. “Someone’s optimistic.”

“Is that it?” he smiles, tantalizing. “Do you always just take on the job of the make-up kids out of the goodness of your heart?”

You're not going to indulge him with an answer to that. It's not uncommon for you to take on various roles and responsibilities during your projects. There was a time at the beginning of your career when you engaged in every aspect of your work, from styling and set design to prop work, editing, and even makeup.

“Right. You go ahead. Tell Instagram that I sexually assaulted you with a cotton swab.”

“It’d be just another Monday for Gojo’s PR mercenaries, right?” he pushes you further, casually dropping the G-word as a last resort.

“Everyone likes to look at pretty things, don’t be cocky, old man.” He starts blinking real fast like he’s never been called old to his own face.  “Earlier, you asked me what you look like.”

The scrunch of his nose indicates that he wants to say something before the subject changes, but ends up only squinting at you. 

“I did ask you that.”

“You look like a problem,” you let your words hang in the air for a moment. “And not the kind I have fun dealing with, no offense.”

Finally, he grins again, tongue coming out to just graze the edge of his canines. Something inside your belly moves as you follow the movement.

“And I’m not married yet, so– you might want to take your intentions somewhere else.”

He nods thoughtfully, then he buries his hands in the pockets of his jeans and lifts his shoulders, taking in a deep breath. The motion reveals a thin line of hard skin under his shirt and just the edge of his underwear. 

Water under the bridge.

“Well, no harm in putting it on the table, right?”

Your phone buzzes. Your car is waiting for you outside. You move like he’s not standing by the doorway and blocking your only way out. 

“Have a pleasant day, Fushiguro. It was nice to meet you.”

It’s Friday when you see him again at your friend’s birthday party.

He’s lurking his way through the party, nursing a drink with his eyes attached to the screen on his hand until the birthday boy himself hunts him down. Haibara, producer and pitchfork sweetheart whose debut album cover art you worked on earlier in the year.

It’s a funny sight, it would be almost endearing if it weren't for the fact that it's him. The sunshine main character dragging the hunched, brooding giant along with him. Toji looks like he’s trying his best to keep up, half-amused, half-annoyed, nodding as Haibara rambles away. You wonder how the two even fit inside the same room, Haibara being so charming and Toji, a walking threat.

Then you remember Haibara mentioning that he's been working on the soundtrack for a video game.

Your friends’ conversation mingles with the music and flows around you. Someone’s getting married to his ex-husband’s father. Yuki’s about to open her third concept store somewhere in Europe. You can’t be bothered to focus too much on catching up, but you do meet Shoko’s eyes across the room when Mei Mei says something particularly questionable.

You see a hint of longing in her eyes, a shared sense of missing Iori, just as you do. On a brighter note, her father's health is finally starting to improve.

A hand wraps around yours, and another settles on your shoulder. The cold press of a ring on your skin brings you back to the present. You look at your fiancé and get the dreaded feeling that you’re an impostor pretending to know what to do with a man so devastatingly beautiful. 

Hiroki leans over your shoulder. “Car’s here.”

His hand feels hot and clammy on yours as he leads you out of your friend's sight, turning back occasionally to make sure he hasn't lost you in the crowd. He won't stop until you're both outside, standing by the side of the street.

“Call me when you land?”

Of course, he will. Nothing has changed. He’s starting a new project in some small town in the middle of nowhere in Europe in 24 hours. You won’t ask him to stay. Six months will pass, and nothing will change, you’ve both done this before. 

But you stall. He always calls a car with this in mind. You kiss by the sidewalk, he squeezes you in his arms until your bones fight back. You’ve done this before. It’ll happen again, considering how his acting career is taking off overseas. You’ll do it time and time again until–

“You taste like pennies,” he tells you, and you can't help but laugh softly into his mouth. Your finger traces the barely there curve of his thick, straight eyebrows.

“Make sure to take an aspirin.” 

He nods, always sweet and obedient when you’re nagging. You tuck a strand of hair away from his eyes so that people don't fall too hard for him on his flight. His hair has grown longer in recent months, part of his preparation for a role.

Back inside, Yuki makes room for you by moving her legs off the couch. She asks if everything is okay, and you pull her legs onto your lap, rolling your eyes. She knows you too well.

“Don’t gaslight me. Something was off.”

“Do I look like something’s off?”

“No, but you’re a fucking oyster. Hiroki’s not that good with his face for an actor. He kept looking at you like he was afraid you’d disappear.”

Choso chimes in, draping his arm around her shoulders. "They're getting married. I don't want to jump to conclusions, but I think he might like her, and he might enjoy looking at her."

Looking out of the window, your gaze naturally drifts toward a figure seated by Haibara’s covered dock. Earlier, it was adorned with twinkling lights, but now, even in the dark, you can discern a solitary silhouette in the middle of the glittery ocean.

Mei Mei taps her cigarette, fixing her eyes on you from the other side of the couch. 

“Does it have something to do with Toji Fushiguro asking about you, by any chance?”

Your stomach drops. Your group of friends reacts quickly.

“Huh?” 

“What does Toji want with you?” Yuki asks, face snapping at you. “Is he trying to get to Gojo through you?”

“We worked on a shooting with him a few days ago.” Choso calmly explains before she can come up with any conspiracy. “She was covering for Iori. Made quite the impression on him, I think.”

“Oh, Satoru’s gonna fucking hate that.” Shoko laughs, unexpectedly loud in her inebriated state. “Please, please fuck him. He’ll be so pissed if you fuck him. It’ll be hilarious.”

“No respect or regard for Hiroki.” Choso shakes his head, and it looks like he’s laughing from the way his shoulders move up and down. “Poor bastard.”

“Yeah, well.” Shoko shrugs, not bothering to hide her dislike for your fiancé. 

You shake your head and roll your eyes. “He’s just pissy because I was not— exactly professional. I think the asshole might try to get me blacklisted.”

Choso makes a noise of disagreement. Yuki frowns in concern. “Shit. What did you do?”

“She showed up hungover, asked who the fuck he was when he was standing behind her, and traumatized Miwa.”

“Not Miwa. She's an angel.”

“Whatever you did, he’s asking around…” Mei Mei adds with a sick barely there smile, finger on her chin. You don’t like how well she knows you. She makes you feel like she knows exactly what went down that day.

You wonder how well she knows Toji, and how much he told her. 

What exactly he asked.

“...and let’s just say that he’s not the curious type, so make your assumptions, everyone.”

You tap Yuki’s thigh without thinking twice and push yourself off the couch. A string of accusations about scaring you off follow, and Mei Mei teases you about not meaning to do that.

“Fuck off, I just need some fresh air.”

“But you’re gonna consider it, right? For me? Come on, it’ll cheer Iori up.”

“I’m not gonna fuck some random man just because you think it’d be funny, Shoko.”

And you’re pretty sure Iori would be the first to tell you to stay away from him. Shoko sags against the back of the couch like a puppy you stepped on.

You step out of the house, past the pool, the limestone steps, and stop only to take off your sandals. The sand is cold and yielding, no traces of the warmth of the slow Atami day left, soft grains clinging to the soles of your bare feet.

Haibara’s dock stretches out into the ocean, endless until you reach the far end and leave behind the sound of laughter and music. It’s him, like you suspected, sitting on the edge, his legs hanging over the sea. 

With one elbow resting on his thigh and a phone in hand, his other palm supports his face. You sweep a strand of hair over your shoulder and inhale the salty breeze, opting to linger a while before revealing your presence.

“I think I got it.”

He looks up at you, momentarily caught off guard, allowing you to take a triumphant sip from your glass, the alcohol causing a painful sting inside your cheek. He's still engrossed in the medieval game he was playing from days prior, his commitment minimal, his thumb hovering over the screen.

You leave some distance between you as you take a seat, your glass resting between you. It’s a high drop from here, the water looks as if it could freeze you instantly.

“Hand-held CCTV cameras aimed at your face. Like guns. Point blank.” you finally elaborate, once you’ve found a comfortable position, demonstrating with your hand.

“Sounds fuckin’ uncomfortable.” he remarks, eyeing your demonstrative fingers. You wonder if he’s drunk and how much alcohol it would take to get him there. 

You drop your hand, and he follows the movement. “I warned you.”

“So I don’t get flowers? No butterflies?”

“Nah.” 

He lifts his gaze from where it had settled on your thighs, and you absentmindedly tap your ring finger against the bare skin out of habit.

“Thought I was pretty.”

You snort in response. Tonight, the moon shines particularly bright, illuminating the dock lounge. It's a serene spot to catch a break from the lively party.

“I changed my mind.”

He sucks on his teeth. “You can’t take a man’s virginity for being called pretty and then take it back.”

“If it helps, you’re still objectively nice to look at.” You say behind your glass. No point in lying, he’s hot. And self-aware. And you’re not blind or ashamed to admit it. 

“Objectively nice to look at.” he repeats, like he’s getting a feel of it, or memorizing it for future use. “What about the fiance, then? ‘s he pretty? Enough for flowers and butterflies and shit?”

“I met him working for an editorial. He did get flowers.” 

“Ah, I see. So, does he do that often?”

You let another sip wash down your throat, this time tilting your head to the side to avoid the sting.

He returns to his game, and you trace the profile of his nose while the screen highlights the hollows beneath his eyes and the fine lines around his mouth. If you were a bit more intoxicated, you might be tempted to snatch his phone and toss it into the water, anything to halt the conversation about Hiroki. It would force him to look at you instead.

“Leave you alone at parties.” he adds. 

You've momentarily forgotten the initial question. “He’s my fiance, not my babysitter. I can take care of myself.”

“Never suggested otherwise, did I?” he sniffs, and a part of you, the sensible one, contemplates returning to your friends and disregarding whatever pulled you out here. Leave him be to enjoy his game and stay away from the one brewing between the two of you.

“What about your entourage? Are they comfortable leaving you out of their sight?”

“I can fend for myself too,” he says, eyes set on his phone. He seems to like to add your name at the end of his sentences.

“Can I play for a bit?” you ask, extending your hand. He hesitates, briefly glancing at you as if to confirm you're not taking the piss, down at his phone, and back at you.

His phone is big enough to feel like a console, and there's a very on-brand crack on the left corner that he warns can cut you. It gets him a side eye that he reacts to with a careless shrug. 

You haven’t played any games in years or downloaded any since the younger members of your family grew out of the age where they came as useful, but you recognize this one from ads you’ve seen on Instagram.

It doesn’t take any experience to figure out that you’re supposed to manage some kind of orthogonal kingdom. There’s a castle and a medieval-style village surrounded by a tall wall, with full crops around. You tap around, collect coins here and there, zoom in and zoom out under his close watch. Every time you tap a building without a full green bar, a few options show up, you bite your lip to hold back a smile and hit the red X on the right corner of what looks like a church.

“Hey–”

He’s snatching his phone out of your hands before you can pretend to be sorry.

“Fuck you’d do that for?”

You don’t know why, but his annoyance hits you as the most entertaining thing you’ve seen or heard tonight. A grown-ass man next to you sulking because you deleted his little 2D church on his phone. Shoko might think you fucking him would be hilarious, but this, to you, is real comedy. 

“What? You religious or something?” You doubt he is, given his controversies and taunting the satanic-panic crowd. He also happens to look like god left the room the moment he was born.

Toji shakes his head, not as an answer but to reiterate that you’ve pissed him off. A laugh full of mirth bubbles out of you. He’s tapping aggressively, filling up the blank spot with a smaller version of the building, and sucks on his teeth again, disappointed at how pathetic it looks around all his leveled-up properties.

“Did something happen to you as a child, maybe?” You inquire.

“What?” he gruffly responds, offering you an irritated glance. He’s kind of cute like this, frustration looks like a foreign emotion for a man like him.

“Are you diagnosed?”

He does a double-take again.

“Is that offensive to you?” you tease, struggling to contain your amusement at the situation. "Sorry, I know your generation isn't that comfortable discussing mental health."

“See, I might be socially stunted, yeah–” he gruffs after staying quiet for a bit, finally putting his phone inside his back pocket. You lift your eyebrows, eager to see where he’s going with this. “I can agree with that. But you rich kids–”

“Oh, us rich kids?” you gasp softly, not expecting that turn, you bite your lower lip to stop yourself from laughing out loud as he’s not done with his sudden rant. You’re fucking tickled.

He shakes a thick finger in your direction. “–You’re fucking uncomfortable to be around, you know? It makes you think that maybe bullying exists for a reason. They don’t rough the bunch of you nearly enough at those expensive private schools, do they?”

“Dude, I hate to break it to you, but you are a rich kid inside a grown man’s body.” He rolls his green eyes at you until all you see is white, thick eyelashes fluttering.

“Oh, I see. No, I get it. You’re self-made and I’m nepo trash. A spoiled little bitch with a bad attitude who’s never been taught a lesson, is that it?”

Animosity radiates out of him. He flattens his palms on the wood surface behind him and clenches his jaw, shaking his head like he’s not even going to try to reason with you.

“You wanted to hatefuck her but then she ruined your game and made you feel uncomfortable, and now the chase isn’t fun anymore.” 

“Nah, you’ve got it wrong there, sweetheart. I don’t put people in such one-dimensional boxes.”

“No?” 

He scratches the side of his nose before elaborating.

“Spoiled little bitch, yeah. But you’re a hard worker. And stubborn, too. You’ve been paving your own way, working real hard to traumatize daddy back, haven’t you? You run on pure spite, eh?”

“Fuck off.” you scoff, throwing back what’s left of your drink.

“And– get this,” eyes now glazed with a cruel glint, he leans in closer like he's about to share a secret, and peers down at your chest when you do the same “He’s the crowned king of our country’s conservative media, he’s also old as fuck, so that can only mean that he’s a raging homophobe on top of, you know? Violently misogynistic. You and your brother got your therapist's pockets nice and full, paid off a few nice vacations to hawaii, probably bought a big beach house for her.” 

He stops and cocks his head, like realization just landed on him. 

“But you, you’re weaponizing the fuck out of him. Christmas at the Gojos's a fucking nightmare for your poor little fiance, but you have your fun, don’t you?”

Just a few minutes ago, you’d been savoring the signs of irritation in his body language, mind running wild with all the ways you could make him tick, but now you want to punch him in the throat. Just bury your fist right there in that v-shaped Adam's apple of his.

“You’re cold-hearted for that, sweets. You know you are.” he accuses half-heartedly, the wicked glint in his eyes hinting that he's trying to strike a chord. “Tell me, does he prepare his social justice speeches beforehand or does he just sit there next to you, quiet and pretty and eats his dessert?”

“Don’t talk about my family, asshole.” You lick the inside of your cheek, but you know the strung tone of your voice will only egg him on.

“Why not? You’re on the news every day. Everyone talks about you.”

Usually, when it comes to your family, you’ve got thick fucking skin. You’re aware of the stain and privilege of your last name. The advantages you’ve had and people claim you don’t deserve. The fact that you’re the living consequence of your father cheating on Satoru’s mother.

Most of the things they say about your father and his monster of a corporation you can agree with, but you keep your head high and your thoughts to yourself and stick to sharing looks with Suguru when it gets particularly nasty between your brother and your father in family gatherings. 

“He’s been causing quite the stir, hasn’t he? Your brother. If Alzheimer’s doesn’t do it, he might be the one to finally send your old man to the grave.”

But you don’t fuck around when it comes to Satoru. 

You’re propping yourself up on your wrist and lifting your leg when his hand comes to your bare knee, stopping you from attempting to stand up and walk away. His grip is surprisingly gentle, though the tips of his fingers touching the back of your knees do send the message. It’s like he can’t let you forget how much smaller you are in comparison to him.

“Whoa, easy. I’m just playing with you.”

You blink down at him, face set, hoping to deliver the message that you might push him into the water if he fucks around any further.

“I have plenty of family baggage for you to hit me back with, have at it.” he adds, almost kindly.

You remember Naoya Zenin with tears running down his face. If you had to bet on it, you’d say that making Toji Fushiguro cry would single-handedly give you bragging rights over Satoru for the rest of your lives.

He hums when you sit again. “Go on, get as creative as you want.”

“I doubt you even have a family.” you bite “God knows what Zenin lab near Fukushima you escaped from."

“Weak but creative, I’ll give a tick for that. So, what I’m getting here is that you get along with him, then.”

You frown, confused.

“You couldn’t pretend to give a shit when I mentioned the fiancé, but you looked like you would’ve blown my brains if you had a gun on you the second I brought your brother up.”

He sounds suspiciously genuine. You don’t feel like elaborating.

“I know him,” he mentions offhandedly, leaning back. “Flashy cottonhead prick, doesn’t like me very much.” 

“Can’t imagine why, enchanting as you are.”

“Probably gonna like me a lot less after this.” he reasons, more to himself. 

He turns to you before you can dwell on what he means by that. “So, you’re two peas in a pod then? You and him?”

“I don’t see him that often.” you think out loud, your dinner plans fell through after a sudden change in his schedule. “He’s on some getaway in Osaka, performing some corporate sacrificial ritual.”

“And you’re too cool to involve yourself in such bland, boring affairs.”

You’ve had a bad feeling since your father announced he’ll be stepping down from his position. With the board and investors spiraling and Satoru suspiciously playing your father’s game, you see havoc brewing in the future; your father closing his fist around his leashes, children crying, kittens separated from their mothers and blood spilled on the floor.

And you want none of it. 

“I’m an outsider. You don’t need me to explain how it goes, do you?”

He nods at you like he’d tip his drink at you if he had one, deep in thought.

You prop yourself up on your wrist and bring a leg up to rest your feet on the rough wood, inadvertently knocking over your empty glass. You both watch as it tumbles, rolling in a circular path until it meets the edge and drops out of sight, vanishing beneath in the inky water, as if it never existed.

“Water looks nice.” he says.

You hum uncommittedly.

“Wanna take a dip?”

His eyes are already on you when you look up at him. There’s not nearly enough alcohol in you to ignore the distance between you, or the lecherous dip under the friendly, harmless veneer. You wonder what triggered this change so abruptly.

You gaze down at your attire, a deconstructed, stretchy fabric ensemble unsuitable for water activities.

"No, but you can go ahead. I'll watch from here and look the other way if you start to drown."

He dips his head slightly, his frown implying you're a buzzkill. "Come on. You've never gone skinny-dipping?"

“That’s a very lame attempt to get me naked.”

He points at the party with a tilt of his head 

“No one’s gonna see you. I will, but I’ll behave, 'cause you’ve had a rough night” The vague fucker carries on again before you can ask what he means by that. “I didn’t think you’d be this shy.”

“And I don’t think Haibara knows he’s friends with an old man that likes to creep on girls a decade younger.” you retort.

He's momentarily silent, and you believe he's finally relented.

Yet, he hooks a finger beneath a thin strap of your top that slipped down your shoulder at some point, deftly guiding it back into place. His nail barely grazes your skin, causing a shiver to course through you. He grins wolfishly, his eyes locked onto yours, darkness flickering from beneath his lowered lashes, tantalizing.

“Like you’re some innocent little lamb who doesn’t know better? I don’t buy it.” he mocks you, voice dangerously dropping. “Your cover’s blown, sweets. I see you. You’re a lot darker than you look.”

“You think so?”

“Mhm. You’re a little fucked up, ain’t ya? Got some real violent impulses tucked in there.”

That’s rich, coming from him. 

"So perhaps you should tread lightly around me."

“I don’t mind.” he says succinctly like you didn’t just witness the black completely eclipsing the green of his eyes. “Tell you what, you’re more than welcome not to hold back around me. Consider me your safe space. Let it all out, you sure look like you need it.”

“How kind of you.” you croon, he blinks, slow and warm for you, lashes coming to rest on the sinking blue-tinted skin of his under eyes. 

“You wanna go back and do drugs, Toji?”

The sea roars, a particularly violent wave crashing under you. He looks over his shoulder like he’s thinking of it.

“With your friends?” His tone is derogatory at the last word, unaffected, but you have a theory that if you were to put your hand on his chest, the rhythm of his heart would tell a different tale.

Cute. He’s cute. You want to chew him up.

He hit the spot about you not being the lamb, but another thing entirely. The thought makes you want to laugh in his face, but instead, you smile and pop a dimple, swinging your feet and imagining yourself dropping a handful of rice in front of him.

“No. Just you and me.”

[yourbloodysunrise]

Hi! I was wondering if I can request 2012 Donatello where he finally manages to have enough courage to ask out reader but because he took to long reader is already dating someone? I want the angstiest angst that you can make 😇 also can it be like a Drabble or a one shot?

🌤 — ah, angst, the thing that always worse than I imagined.hope you've seen that I write soft angst, so it can be different from what you expected.here we go!

❝ Every plans has flaws.. ❞

— FANDOM: TMNT 2012

— PAIRING: DONATELLO X READER

— ROMANTIC

— READER IS GENDER NEUTRAL

— TW: BAD ENGLISH, BAD GRAMMAR, SWEARING, SOFT ANGST, OOC, DONNIE MORE ANGRY THAN UPSET, THIS IS SHORT, READER NAME NOT MENTIONED

"..And then I'll ask them to go on a date with me!It has to be the perfect plan!"

"I don't know, dude, why don't just cut out the whole evidence-finding part about the Kraangs?" — Mikey answers, spinning around in a chair in Donny's lab, not really listening to him.

Donnie loudly sighed, slowly turned to Mikey, squinting at him, looking annoyed by his question, as if the answer was obvious.

"BECAUSE I want everything to go perfectly!One small mistake can make them refuse.."

"I think you're too paranoid, just relax!Not like them already dating someone."

"..."

"..That's not the best way to calm someone down, Mikey."

"But that not bad, as try."

Donnie blankly looks at Mikey before turning away, shaking his head, — "I should have consulted with Master Splinter instead of you..Anyway, I want to make sure they agree."

"Maybe they will if you just come up and ask?I mean, you didn't try it."

"Well..You're right in some way, though..No, no, what am I thinking?!" — Donnie sighs, rubbing his temples with his fingers, looking wearily at the plan he drew of trying to ask his new passion out on a date, — "I just don't want to make a mistake, I've been trying to please them for so long that it feels like I'm pushing them away.."

"Pushing who away?" — you ask, entering the laboratory, causing a startled squeal from Donnie, hiding the plan board behind the laboratory equipment, — "Hi Mikey, hello Donnie. Sorry for not knocking, but I thought you'd hear me coming in."

"No problem-"

"None, hi, don't worry, I don't mind, everything fine!" — Donnie repeats, stuttering, a nervous and embarrassed smile graced his face, making you giggle.

Mikey glanced briefly at Donnie, winking at him and pointing at you, before taking a skateboard, standing at the entrance to the laboratory, and walking away from there shouting "booyakasha!!!"

"Hm."

"How are you doing with the Kraang search?" — you ask, approaching Donnie, leaning on the laboratory table.

"Weeeell, in the last few days I haven't been able to find any clues about where they might be, so so far the results are zero," — he says, turning away from you, rubbing his neck, staring at the floor.

Come on, Don, this is your chance. Maybe you won't have the opportunity to ask them out anymore?

He swallows the lump in his throat, feeling nervousness wash over him. He doesn't have any excuse to spend time with them..Okay, new plan. Maybe it won't hurt to try?

"Heeeyy.." — he begins, stretching out words, still gathering his thoughts, — "I need to tell you something.."

You mumble thoughtfully, interest lights up in your eyes when you lean closer to him, —"Yeah?"

He nervously swallows with excitement when you approach him, he inhales before starting.

"L-look, you can refuse, I understand you, given the circumstances of our relationship in terms of our situation.."

"Maybe we could go on a date?..Just ordinary date, where would you like to go?I know this is all unexpected, but..please?"

You stand there with your mouth open in shock before closing your jaw, staring at Donny dumbfounded with round eyes.

"O-Oh, Don.. it's.."

"Impossible."

"I'm sorry, but..I already have a partner. It's pretty awkward, you know.."

"But, hey, we're still friends, right?" — you awkwardly comfort him, trying to smile, although the only thing that comes out is a sour strained smile that tries to flinch.

You two stood in deathly silence, feeling the tension grow by the second. If it was something very embarrassing for you, then for him it felt like end of the world…

Your already weak smile completely disappeared when you saw his blank expression, you cleared your throat, preparing to talking — "Donnie?Are you okay?.."

He blinked a few times before answering in a low voice, — "Yes..Yes, I'm fine. Don't worry.."

You turned your head away with a sigh, staring at the floor, realizing that he said it just so that you wouldn't worry about him. Of course, it was probably worse for him than for you, you thought.

"I…I think I'll go." — you say quickly before turning around and leaving the lab. Donnie watched you walk all the way out, waiting for you to disappear through the door, and waiting a few more seconds to make sure you were gone before growling in annoyance.

Why?

The question arose in his head, feeling jealousy fill him, eating into his skin like poison, spreading throughout his body with a caustic feeling of envy and hatred for the whole world.

Why not him?

He collapsed into a chair, covering his face with his hands, letting out a heavy sigh. Was it useless to develop a plan from the very beginning?Or did his self doubt delay him and you managed to find a partner?Why can't luck wait at least one fucking day, so as not to ruin it for him?

He was thinking about what had just happened with a frowning face, resting his elbow on the table, and your photo caught his eye.

With an unreadable face, he picked it up, looking through it, longing seeped into his gaze at the sight of your smiling photo. Slowly, he squeezed the frame of the photo, his fingers digging into the wood with such force that he could have broken it if he really wanted to.

Everything is okay. You have made your choice. You're still friends. Everything will be fine.

Although, perhaps he could show you that he is the best choice?..

..:*･ﾟ☆.｡.:*･ﾟﾞ｡.:*･ﾟ☆.｡.:*･ﾟ🌤

🌤 — aw, my dear turtle don't deserve this :(

🌤 — ah, finally I end this.I have tried very hard and often rewritten it, also I use translator so sorry if there any mistakes.

🌤 — hope you like it!have a good day☆

[lilacxquartz]

Don't Make Me Feel Alive I Chapter 5

kenjaku x f!reader

chapter summary: after a night alone, he lets you out again with a new agenda in mind. Something you didn’t like at all.

warnings; unaware reader/noncon

< Previous Chapter • Next Chapter >

5. Contract

Upon returning to you the next day after having spent a good chunk of it thinking about the best course of action, he returned to you and activated the pendant at his own will, restoring your ability to properly utilise its function and in turn, feeling closer like yourself once again.

The sensation surely felt odd though—as if you were a machine, slowly rebooting after being turned off.

You remembered his description from before, finding it oddly fitting.

Kenjaku otherwise ultimately ended up deciding on committing to the binding vow overnight, after all, despite his consideration for alternative options, because technically speaking, he had absolutely zero use for someone who refused to help him and if it wouldn’t have been a waste of time and resources, he could have just disposed of you overnight, regardless of your potential.

So rather than doing that, he instead decided to resolve his plans a different way instead and have the death painting fight in your place instead. He could simply just entrust Mahito’s alliance to oversee the plan otherwise and keep you behind as a trump card if need be.

After all, a lightning user that he had under his control could prove powerful and unpredictable to his opponents, especially given your potential capabilities. For one, it could help escape tense situations or to sacrifice you in case he faced something or someone that collided with his plans.

Or… should he scrap the sacrifice idea? His mind churned just a little at the thought, even if it was a joke in his mind.

The point still stood though, he needed to get you on board for something else. Something more serious, something potentially life changing—but only while you were still in such a malleable state.

You were vulnerable enough for anything.

“Hey,” he spoke softly, drawing closer as his fingers tweezed your chin, forcing you to meet his stare, “don’t look at me like that.”

You were giving him a certain type of look today and he didn’t like it, even if he could understand why you were being so guarded.

You relented his touch, forcing your sights downwards, “how else should I look at you?”

“Look, I went about it wrong, I do admit,” he replied, lifting your chin back up, “however, what if I offer something that could benefit both of us?”

“Then I wouldn’t buy it,” you replied, failing to move away, “not if it’s coming from you.”

“Ah, don’t be like that,” he smiled once more as he replied to you in a teasing tone, finding it amusing to keep winding you up, “I’m not that bad, you know.”

(But he knew that he absolutely was.)

There was a pause that followed as he awaited your response, seeming slightly disappointed when you never fulfilled his curiosity and kept quiet instead. Moving on without skipping a beat, he decided to unveil his grand offer.

“Anyway, I’d like to propose a binding vow. Nothing too serious.”

You blinked as you were taken aback. A binding vow was serious no matter how you looked at it.

“You’re kidding?” you asked.

“I am not,” he replied in a very sure way.

“There is nothing casual about a binding vow,” you sighed, feeling the corners of your lips sink into a frown. You already had an idea of what this strange guy was, so you had a feeling that by the end of this conversation, you’d be entangled in something you shouldn’t be because he wouldn’t let you back out of it.

“A binding vow doesn’t have to be dramatic,” he teased, “at least hear me out.”

You sighed in a resigned manner, feeling weary already, giving him a look that indicated that you were at the very least listening.

He smiled again, continuing, “Dedicate your efforts into helping me carry out my plans successfully and I’ll be more honest with you, only keeping the vow active until completion then I’ll… let you go,” he lied, his words sounding too good to be true but spoken smoothly enough for you to believe him, “sound good?”

“And if I don’t?” you asked, still not quite wanting to do something so serious.

“Then you can otherwise die, I don’t keep things around that are useless… or boring,” he replied as he laughed gently to himself, leaving you once again unsettled and tired from his demeanour.

You sighed once more, knowing that he knew just how much you wanted to live.

Feeling cornered by his proposal—the offer frustrated you.

“Fine,” you gritted reluctantly, at least considering it, “now what exactly am I agreeing to?”

“I’d like to keep you around under my control—let’s call it a puppet contract,” he explained as you hesitantly listened, “you’ll stay under the control of my strings and I’ll occasionally drop the cross for you to use your technique.”

“Wait, I won’t be able to use my own technique?” you asked, not liking the sound of the catch.

“It’s your biggest drain of energy,” he replied, having a genuine answer that wasn’t malicious for a change, “if I can control how you use your energy, then you won’t run into problems again.”

“And why would I agree to that?” you continued to prod.

“Because, I can teach you other ways of defending yourself, silly,” Kenjaku revealed, “you shouldn’t be fully relying on your technique anyway.”

You furrowed your brows in confusion as you stared at him. “But I'm a sorcerer?”

“Modern sorcerers are more about flashy combat styles and showing off their techniques,” he began to explain as his eyes widened for dramatic effect while he spoke, “but these things aren’t completely reliable, so I’ll teach you the fundamentals of close range combat.”

“Even in my state?” you warily asked.

His eyes flickered up and down before nodding, his lips parting with an already loaded answer, “Sorcerers who rely too much on their techniques are an easy target, you need to learn to at least block a close range attack.”

You sighed wearily again, already feeling exhausted the longer that this conversation unfolded. A stark contrast to his energetic self in comparison, seemingly getting a kick out of this whole discussion.

Kenjaku then closed the gap to your face with his own, enjoying the idea of bullying you into eventual submission, his voice suddenly low, “Besides, don’t you want to learn how to keep me off your back? If you don’t learn how to at least push me away, then I’ll just keep on teasing you forever.”

You pulled away from whatever that was and attempted to push him back. He let you, for now.

“Wouldn’t this slow you down?” you asked, attempting to further the distance between the two of you.

“You would only be doing so if you continue to avoid the subject,” he mocked slightly as he bridged the gap between the two of you, his fingers brushing around your face, “I wouldn’t want you to get knocked around by someone with more combat intelligence… unless it’s by me.”

You didn’t quite hear that last part that he mumbled, but you weren’t looking forward to anything he proposed to you regardless.

“So in order to keep you safe and more reliable for both yourself and me, I’d like to keep your technique on a leash and teach you something far more valuable instead,” he said as he drummed his fingers along your cheekbones, the action seeming slightly taunting yet endearing.

Once again, you felt conflict stir within you as you took the idea further into consideration, still not enjoying the idea of your technique remaining dormant, locked away in your body unless he had a say in it. The only appealing part was leading a somewhat normal existence, but in order to do so without your technique properly present, took a huge chunk of your identity away.

However, if it was all just temporary—then maybe it wasn’t actually so bad. You wanted to live normally beyond anything else, refusing to go back to a miserable existence of pure sickness and fatigue.

“Fine, I’ll do it,” you muttered.

“Then you’ve made the correct choice,” Kenjaku smiled as he continued to drift closer, fully aware that he wasn’t going to release you from the vow so easily because technically, his plans had no real end.

In fact, you would be stuck with him forever.

If only you truly knew what you just signed up for, though. He laughed to himself at the notion while you continued to stare at him in a confused manner.

However, in some ways, he couldn’t quite shake the thought that you were partially correct and were technically slowing down his plans due to his strange attachment towards you—ultimately otherwise concluding that as long as you continued to aid him in his success, that there was otherwise nothing truly slowing him down, after all.

So maybe this was all fine. It didn’t hurt to have a companion to bother as he pleased, knowing that you’d likely just listen against your will to whatever he subjected you to.

Besides, you were also easy on the eyes, so that much was a bonus.

After such an agreement, the days continued to pass you both by and your old dynamic was quickly soon reestablished, spending the days training with him just like before except now you also had the displeasure of learning how to fight with someone like him. Just as he wanted you to do so also, you found that you became embarrassingly reliant on him because he controlled just about every aspect about you.

Something that he secretly enjoyed a great deal.

So much that it wasn’t something that he could neither deny nor ignore anymore.

And so as the day finally concluded, you found yourself unintentionally falling asleep against his shoulder, leaning against his body without even realising that you were doing so. You were worn out from the training session and it was late, so you couldn’t help but snooze off. Kenjaku in response reluctantly accepted this, finding that he didn’t mind it a great deal.

In fact, it had been such a long time since he had experienced such innocent closeness that he almost missed it, feeling nostalgic for the sensation, even if it did feel different this time.

Curiosity took him over as he moved you slowly down onto his lap to admire the situation further, feeling quite odd about the whole thing. Initially, he chose to explore carefully, observing how the battery held up during sleep but then he started to feel more and more curious about certain things.

He watched you as you remained fast asleep and completely unaware of both what and who he truly was, not knowing that it was otherwise a miracle on his end that something in particular hadn’t happened sooner.

What was this feeling again?

Something a bit like lust, but dilated.

Even now, he chose to keep it contained, despite the mood suddenly feeling strangely different. He wasn’t one to feel regret or remorse for anything that he did in life, choosing to believe that a life well lived and experienced was from personal gain and yet, there was a faint hint of hesitation to continue.

Perhaps it was because you were his project, therefore an extension of his ideals. To keep you so readily compliant and willing to go through what he admittedly knew was a chaotic direction into the future felt like something he had to preserve in its current state.

His eyes once again drifted down and locked onto your sleeping form, the look that occupied his face utterly vacant as his eyes bored into you. Something however kindled in his coal black eyes as he moved his fingertips to trace against your face, seeming to enjoy having your life completely vulnerable and at the mercy of his own hands.

There it was. That was the problem. He spent a good amount of time investing his effort into you and he had the complete power to simply undo it all, just because he could. Regardless of how much your own life was left to yourself, he was the one who now ruled it and that filled him with a thrill beyond his comprehension.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he indulged after all. Your life was his now and he had the power to play with you as he liked.

You were lucky that he actually liked you, though. It could have been so much worse.

He continued to explore slowly, brushing his hands against your shoulders through to your back and around your waist, finding that he liked how it sat in his hands. His fingers wrapped around your side and squeezed firmly around it, as if trying to memorise every detail. Curiously, he felt around your ass next, squeezing his fingers around it and enjoying the feel of it.

His other hand proceeded to drift into his robe, gently parting the fabric and taking hold of his now excited length. He wouldn’t do anything just yet to you, instead choosing to simply test the waters of what he wanted.

Slowly, he stroked himself as he watched you continue to sleep against his lap, his other hand still brushing around your body as he continued to grow harder, realising that this particular feeling wasn’t going away.

He felt his cock grow completely fat in his hand and he quickly got increasingly comfortable as he adapted to a smooth motion in getting himself off. All the while he stared down at your unaware and fast asleep face as you did so, finding the sight of you being completely unaware to be strangely exciting.

He continued to pleasure himself as his breathing grew shaky and his legs tightened, continuing to stare you down, somewhat impressed that you didn’t awaken from the disturbance. The excitement felt almost painful as all remaining reason rushed along with his blood to his cock, making the session almost feel sore.

His eyes were relentless as they stared down at your sleeping form as his hand moved up and down his shaft, his breath shuddered as he got closer to pushing his limit.

His mind ran rampant with curiosity and wonder, imagining exactly how your slick warmth felt and just what sorts of noises you could make for him; his jaw clenching as he neared his end, shooting thick white ropes against his robes—seething a stifled groan to keep you perfectly unaware.

He’d have to wash those now, he sighed.

He dedicated his sights on you, the curiosity continuing to burn him away, distracting him from any other thought that he might have had. There was nothing more that he wanted other than to feel his skin mesh with yours, to push inside of you and to feel how you wrapped around him.

Maybe tomorrow he’d indulge in just that.

Knowing that such a feeling wouldn’t simply go away.

He would sleep on it for now though, momentarily leaving you alone on the bed to go and clean himself up. However, upon returning, he once again decided to share the bed with you and the feeling returned.

He stared at you as he laid near your side.

Knowing that nothing at all could possibly help or save you now. He was simply in too deep with his own wants and needs to back out now.

If only you knew what awaited you the next day, though.

[rae-writes]

I humbly ask for more ranpo and poe, nsfw or not; whatever is fine, have a great day <33

gods, I love these two :((

sfw

dressing up in Poe's gothic/victorian style and slow dancing around his extensive library (it's not a want, it's a need) <3

having dessert dates with Ranpo where you travel to different sweet shops outside of Yokohama to see what they have and taste test the things you've never tried before <3

Poe getting all giddy when he catches you reading one of his books/short stories in your free time <3

And Poe feeling his heart melt when he sees you caring for Karl <3

Ranpo falling in love all over again when he watches you snap at someone who was undermining him <3

and Ranpo getting all softly smug whenever you go around happily parading 'the great detective, love of my life' as your boyfriend <3

falling into habit with Ranpoe, before the three of you even start dating, and waking up one day to realize you're all in love with one another so three shy confessions end up happening in the early morning as you collectively prepare breakfast in your shared apartment <3

spring/fall cleaning with Ranpoe, except it's highly chaotic and sometimes you can't remember what you've gotten done yet because Ran is slipping around on the floor and knocking into Poe- who was actively trying to help- which sends them both to the floor, leaving you to come over and give them 'feel better' kisses where they fell and 'hurt' themselves <3

going on outings with Ranpoe (and Karl, of course) and generally having a normal, peaceful time, butttt sometimes you just end up sprawled out on the pavement as the three of you try to untangle yourselves while laughing so hard you can't see through the tears (don't ask how, but it happened once...you're pretty sure it was Ranpo's fault, but who knows?) <3

nsfw [below the cut]

putting pretty butterfly clips in Poe's hair, pinning it away from his pretty eyes, and then riding him in his office chair; he's so embarrassed that he can't cover his eyes with his hair anymore, which makes his moans and whimpers all the more louder (especially when you tell him how pretty he is) <3

trying on Ranpo's coat and hat on a whim, but he thinks you're just the cutest thing ever, so he immediately bends you over his desk right there in the agency and shoves his fingers in your mouth to keep you from being too loud <3

letting Poe buy you whatever he wants cause he begs so nicely to spend his money on you. He never asks for a single thing in return, but he also won't refuse when you drop to your knees and wrap your mouth around his cock- whatever you want is what you'll get and he's more than happy to give you his cum <3

talking to Ranpo about his snarky behavior after a few complaints are made and getting a bit miffed when your boyfriend doesn't want to listen— curling your fingers around his clothed cock seems to do the trick, but you barely give him any friction until he's whining and begging and promising to keep his attitude in check <3

being sandwiched between Ranpoe, dizzily pleasured by Poe's soft words and touch contrasted by Ran's more rougher touch and teasing words; you've got nowhere to go when you're suspended in the air by both of them- and taking both their cocks at the same time- so you simply grip onto each of them and take turns swapping spit, content to fall limp and get fucked out <3

settling between Ranpoe, hunched over on your knees while they're laid out on their backs, giving slow kisses to each of them one at a time, hearing the other whine when they think they're being left out. Poe lays quietly, only softly tugging your shirt when you haven't been focusing on him in a while; he gives you the prettiest sounds of pleasure when you come back to him and shyly begs to be fucked first. Ranpo, meanwhile, whines and complains loudly when he feels left out, tugging at your hand and guiding it to his aching bulge when you don't respond; he hears Poe's plea, and it makes him finally snap his mouth closed when he realizes you're going to fuck Poe first because Ran's been a brat the whole time- and that makes him whimper pitfully <3