#So maybe I should not count on too many people being interested.

[cozymochi]

How much will it be to see a Tia and Nyoka interaction like he’s part of the cast 👁️

ZERO DOLLARS AND TWO BRAINS. Cuz, @oddberryshortcake and I wrote something together about exactly that. Literally. It was a shared doc.

(I mean, it was written a year ago but it’s been fixed up and expanded considerably.)

It’s something of a companion/direct follow up to “A Total Package” by oddberry (so it’d be best narratively to read that first, imo simce it kicks off the events of this in the first place.)

>> Interview With A Cobra <<

If you like character studies and usual twst shenanigans this is the place for you. It also info about Tia and Nyoka that I neglected to talk about.

OKAY BYE.

[peridots-pixiwolf]

[Start ID. A digital drawing of Minos Prime from Ultrakill, who's wearing a strapless slit dress and sandals of the same deep purple. He faces towards and slightly to the right of the camera, his head is tilted further right. With one hand he gestures in a vague pointing motion, his arm folded and held close to his body. There is nothing in the background, but bracing himself on one arm, Minos is implied to be leaning against something about the height of a countertop. The background is a blank purplish black, save for three diagonal stripes in the colors of the bisexual flag. End ID]

Shading study that quite literally came to me in a dream two weeks ago, after this post apparently beamed itself into my mind

(also a few edits below the cut! they're very slight but whatever :])

[Start ID. Three different versions of the previous drawing. The first changes the tone of the lighting from blue to pink, and similarly the shading from pink to blue. The second replaces the faint black border with pink, purple and blue, syncing with the stripes in the background. The third combines both these changes. End ID]

[bunnygirllover45]

— THE THRILL OF THE HUNT.

♱ TRIGGER WARNINGS: Johann literally hunts down the reader, Small outburst at the end, and a lot of bullshit talk about hunting because I like it, DEAD DOVE. No violence was used.

Synopsis: You escape from Johann, he has to track you down. WORD COUNT: 1.6k

Johann wasn't exactly the thrill-seeking kind. He always preferred a slow-paced life, not filled with many excitements or tragedies. He wasn’t an adventurous spirit or a fiery soul in search of greater meaning. In his head, the only thing he needed was you.

And maybe that’s why this exact moment made his blood boil with newfound rapture, he could swear for a moment his skin bumped at the feeling of his heart throbbing so quickly against his ribcage. The thrill of the hunt, like his father used to say, made mere men become beasts, some because it was vital for their survival, others because of the rush of power it gave them.

But he couldn’t quite understand it until now. For him, hunts weren’t that exciting. The game was always too easy to track down, the footsteps effortlessly concealed. The gun didn’t feel heavy enough. His breath didn’t quicken at the mere chance of letting his prey slip away; he’ll always find a way to reach them again, after all. Animals have their habits; they’re easy to decipher once you know their true nature.

This is the type of hunt he’s been craving for so long. Johann had to press a hand against his mouth to prevent a low chuckle from escaping. Oh, how right his father was. This was truly trilling to the core, the kind of thrill that made a foreign heat rise towards his head and seep into his very brain tissue.

Humans aren’t like animals, their behavior is a little more erratic, animals can be divided between highly intelligent beings and straight-up dumb ones, but humans? All of them had their quirks, you couldn’t easily guess how prepared someone could be under certain circumstances. “Isn’t that so fucking interesting?” 

Lowering himself to the ground Johann reached to touch the freshly shaped footstep that his precious prey left behind. If they’re leaving such a pretty trail behind they’re expecting me to find them, what a tease.

“You know what kind of animals roam these types of terrains?” His voice was loud enough to carry its sound through the extremely quiet, when the hunt begins, the forest goes quiet, no need to scream. “Bears, moose, sometimes even wolves. Had to detangle a lot of ‘em from traps before, not without properly securing they won’t be able to bite, ‘course.” 

His heavy boots made the rotten wood and debris scattered around the forest soil yield under their weight, no need to change onto more quiet shoes, his bunny wouldn’t be able to hear him coming, surely their heartbeat was the only thing resounding inside their ears. Reaching into his pocket he took out his watch, starting a countdown. “I’ll give you two minutes to gain distance, cover your tracks, you can try hiding if you want, but I wouldn’t recommend staying still, it makes you easier to spot.” 

“Once the two minutes are done I’ll begin searching, I'll make a bird calling each 45 seconds, and once three minutes pass by, I’ll stop making bird callings and hunt in earnest, ‘kay? Just want to make the game easier for you, it isn’t fun if I’m the one with the upper hand all the time even if this is my subject.” 

With a deep sigh, he crouched down again, his hands fidgeting inside his pocket until he found a cigarette, the last one actually. Grabbing his lighter he lit up the tip, taking a slow inhale before letting the smoke escape from his lips. 

His free hand reached to grab the gun he always had with him, it was an old friend of sorts, stuck by his side in all the worst situations, a lot of people meeting their death at the end of this same barrel. Maybe it should have your name, after all, people do name their guns sometimes.

The forest grew more eerily quiet, the sun setting down in the distance while Johann quietly awaited the starting gunshot of the race, he didn’t really need to put the time on his watch, he could already count the time down to the millisecond inside his head. “Forty-eight, forty-nine…” His gloved fingers tapped against his lips, hands tightly clad in leather gloves, perfect for the harsh Austrian winter. 

A part of him wished you didn’t even make the effort to run away, maybe finding you curled up against a rock or a tree just waiting for him to find you was more exciting than actually pursuing you, after all, that meant you truly gave up on the idea of leaving him behind—still, another part of his brain screamed for you to run, so he could find you and make sure you won’t try pulling up bullshit like this again.

Slowly he stood up, the watch making a low beeping sound before he began to walk, settling the gun back onto the strap around his thigh. Holding the cigarette in between his lips he began to prepare the clothes you were going to use once he caught you, after all, little you decided to escape both barefoot and barely dressed, the worst thing in this forest beside him was the cold. Holding the spare jacket he always brought with him inside his bag and a blanket he continued to walk nonchalantly, not even sparing a single stare in any direction that wasn’t just dead front and center. 

Johann's stare drifted onto the floor, a little disappointed that you didn’t take his recommendation into account, there, clear as day, were your pretty little marks for him to follow like a bloodhound. Johann even took the time to carefully make sure he didn’t accidentally step into any of them, not wanting to overshadow the loving tracks you left behind for him with his heavy boots.

He knew very well he was taking all of this too lightly, this was a high gamble where he could lose everything or gain all, but still the elated sense of happiness and bubbling excitement made him more self-confident, too sure you wouldn’t get away too far, and even if you did, he’d stay in the damn forest all the time necessary for you to realize you need to go back onto his loving arms.

Stopping dead in his tracks he turned around as he heard a small sound coming from behind a fallen stump, dead bark peeling off the tree’s corpse. There you are.

And there you were indeed, curled up in a ball, back pressing against the rough bark as you held your arms around your torso, bracing yourself from the harsh winter cold, from the shiver that ran down your shoulders towards your legs or the sight you so pathetically defenseless made him smile, a blush creeping up onto his features.

“You didn’t even run far enough to let me do any bird calls, are you that tired, baby?” He kneeled down in front of you, but as soon as you jolted up in surprise Johann’s hand shot to grab your wrist with unnerving quickness. His dark eyes bore into you, a small smile gracing his lips, but there was no emotion behind that expression of his. “That’s okay, next time I’ll give you some proper equipment, some shoes wouldn’t hurt.” 

His thumb caressed the skin of your wrist, while his other hand threw away the now almost half-smoked cigarette that Johann held in between his lips. Eventually he reached to grab your head in between them, rubbing your cheeks with such tenderness that it could be even soothing in a different situation. “There, you did good. Not good enough to grant you a reward, but you did have me a little scared back there.” His smile widened as he lied through his teeth. You frowned, tired, freezing cold and also breathless, but still with enough energy to try and pry his hand away from your wrist, it was useless, he was latched onto you like a handcuff. “Fuck yo—” Before you could even finish he reached to clasp his free hand onto your mouth, the sudden movement making you stumble backward, head pressing against the tree. “Fuckin’ language.” He whispered between his teeth, staring at you dead in the eyes. “You should be grateful I didn’t put a damn bullet in between those pretty eyes of yours. Runnin’ away from me like that? After all I did for you? I let you away from my sight for just a second and you go jolting away like a fucking rabbit.” 

Taking a deep breath he lowered his head, slowly pushing his hand away from your mouth, his face leaning closer to you, the only warm feeling gracing your warm body being his hot breath against your face. “Sorry ‘bout that.” He pushed your lower lip with his thumb, pressing a soft kiss onto your flesh as some sick and twisted kind of apology.

“I won’t be as lenient next time, ‘kay? You know I care about you a lot, meine Liebe, don’t want you getting hurt.” He forced a smile, leaning his forehead against yours, but again his voice was masked by the thumping sound of your heart against your ears. “Let’s get you back to the car, I’ll get you all warmed up and cozy.” 

You just let him grab you, his hands effortlessly grabbing you and carrying you bridal style as both of you made your way back toward the car, you stole a few glances at Johann’s face, finding a small smile and that darn blush in his cheeks that showed how much he enjoyed himself, maybe a twisted part of him was truly pleased by all of this, even if it just started as a rebellious act of trying to escape from your part.

“Hear that? It’s a White-tailed eagle. Birds of prey, always hunted them with my father as a child.” Suddenly the forest wasn’t so quiet anymore, the hunt has ended.

[winwintea]

that's okay

PAIRING ↬ academic rival!na jaemin x ace!female reader

TAGS ↬ fluff, romance, slight angst, academic rivals to lovers au, college au, fake dating au, jaemin = campus playboy, drunk decisions, art museum date, plushies because i want a plushie, jaemin is kinda whipped fr

SUMMARY ↬ you're determined to outshine your academic rival na jaemin, the campus heartthrob infamous for his frivolous reputation. but when a few too many drinks suddenly ropes you into a fake dating scheme with jaemin, you realize that there's much more to him than his playboy persona. can two opposites navigate a connection that’s anything but fake?

WORD COUNT ↬ 3.7k+

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ HAPPY BIRTHDAY @lotties-readings !! grinding this fic in a day was so fun. the 3 am brain creativity actually carried this time too. hope i did him justice 😭😭 SHOUTOUT TO THE ASEXUAL COMMUNITY I LOVE YALL <33 THIS ONE'S FOR YOU !!!!

PLAYLIST ↬ cooler than me - mike posner, anti-romantic - txt, are you satisfied? - marina, that's okay - d.o.

WHAT DID YOU EXPECT?

Na Jaemin. The Playboy. He’s probably slept with half of the school and the rumors are on and off with him. The college’s infamous frivolous playboy, a firm believer of the ‘hook up as much as you can before you find your soulmate!’ ideology. For some, it was oddly endearing. For you? Maddening. Because Na Jaemin wasn’t just a playboy. He was your rival. Jaemin just had this certain charm to him that attracted the masses. Everyone, including your friends, had had a crush on him at one point in their lives. Everyone except you. Despite his supposedly carefree attitude, he always ranked #1. And you? Stuck perpetually at #2, clawing at his heels, only for him to breeze past like it was nothing. If it were anyone else, maybe you wouldn’t care so much. But no—it had to be him.

You swore to steer clear of him. No parties, no flirtations, and certainly no personal involvement. That resolve lasted until one ill-advised college party, where Jaemin, drunk and absurdly charismatic, roped you into the lead role of his most ridiculous performance yet: his fake significant other. And you were equally as drunk to play along with it, nodding in the face of his ex-girlfriend as she looked at the both of you in disbelief. For a playboy like Jaemin, you thought he was managing to control his dating life better than this. But you guess he just got bored of being surrounded by love.  “Just go with it,” he’d said. You hadn’t thought it would last beyond that night.

You were wrong.

You suppose it’s partly your own fault finding yourself in your current situation, considering the recent events. In a world where everyone is busy chasing after time, enjoying the dating scene, you’re an outcast. An outcast with false modesty to trick people’s curiosity. You should be used to them by now, their comments about you not being interested in relationships. And even though you do feel fed up with it, the thought of lying about dating someone just so they can shut up never crossed your mind.

“Remind me again why I have to spend the whole day being your pretend partner.” you say, glaring as Jaemin hands you a pastry. “The party doesn’t start until 10PM tonight!” 

“Here you go, love. Be careful, it’s hot!” he says, completely ignoring your question. He resumes walking, hands in his pockets, as if this was the most normal thing in the world, resuming your slow stroll in the garden of a nearby art museum. You hurriedly take it from his hands if that would make him finally pay attention to your question.

“I know it’s hot,” you mutter, taking the pastry anyway. He’s insufferable. Even now, you can tell he’s doing this for show, making a big deal out of playing the doting boyfriend for the strangers milling about the museum garden. “Do you ever actually answer questions, or is that too much to ask?”

“Oh, I answer,” he breezily responds, unfolding a crumpled checklist from his coat pocket. “I’m just selective about when. Do you want to taste mine? I can taste yours too.”

“No thank you.”

Straightening the lapels of his gray coat, Jaemin fetches the brochure handed earlier to him out of his inner pocket and takes a quick look at it to make sure you checked out everything of interest in the area before entering the museum itself. “Now, do you want to check out the sculptures before we head to the main exhibit?”

The guy has a whole checklist of activities for the day. You’ve seen it. He purposely taped another page underneath just to scare you with its sheer length, but you’re seeing right through his tricks, the page is full of gibberish written just to take space. You’ve got your best frown on to keep the illusion of ignorance, hoping that you’d get bonus points for agreeing to go through the full contents of the list, both the real and the fake ones. 

But is it really an act? The occasional tidbits of satisfaction coming from beating Jaemin’s brilliant mind (not that you’d ever give him the credit for it) are hardly enough to keep you entertained throughout the day. When the activities you take on today are meant to be just that, entertaining. And romantic too. 

Now, were you a normal couple, a true couple, then maybe you’d be having fun now.

“Jaemin, I think partners are supposed to listen to each other. At the very least.”

He grins, entirely unbothered by your irritation. “Relax, Y/N. We’re supposed to look like we’re having fun. Couples don’t bicker this much in public, you know.”

“Maybe because real couples actually like each other.”

“And yet,” he says, slinging an arm around your shoulders, “Here we are. The picture of romance.” Ah. He’s right, damn it.

“I only lowered my guard because these people don’t know us, stupid… Let’s get inside already!”

Hearing his low, annoying chuckle triggers the sensory neurons in your brain until a neat little image of his smirk is produced with near-perfect accuracy. Have you simply seen it too many times? There’s no escape even when you turn your back to him, great.

You grit your teeth but let him guide you down a quieter path, away from the crowds. It’s all part of the act, you remind yourself. Just one day of playing along, and people will stop speculating about your personal life. Totally worth it.

Right?

Inside the museum, the tension eases slightly. The museum is magnificent to explore with the many pieces of art it houses. There’s so much to see that you’d frankly not mind getting lost in here just to have an excuse to spend more time surrounded by art.

You have to admit, Jaemin chose the perfect dating spot. You’re not sure if it was based on your own preferences. Surely not. But you find yourself not minding it suddenly.

“Picture!” he announces, pulling you close before you can protest.

Hearing the signal, you instantly turn in the direction of the raised-up phone, smiling for the camera as Jaemin presses his face closer to yours.

“Oh, this is a good one, I’m definitely posting it. You look so in love.”

“I’m in love with this work, that’s it.” you say flatly, staring at the painting behind him.

“Uh-uh. That works for me too.” Jaemin replies while his fingers dance across the screen, likely typing some cheesy caption for the picture. A second later your own phone vibrates in your pocket, signaling that he posted the picture and tagged you in it, and you don’t even bother looking.

“At least you’re a natural, Jaemin.”

“What, in faking an expression? How are you so sure?”

You blink, meeting his gaze as some child holding a balloon separates the two of you for a mere second. Instinctively, you shorten the distance so you don’t lose Jaemin, looking for his hand to take hold of. You’ve already been through that today, linking hands in the crowds. And while there was no real need to do that right now, you just did that…

To the question in your eyes evoked from his last words, he smirks and adds, “There are pieces of art here that I look at with fondness just like you do.”

Your heart sinks for a moment, only to create palpitations that mess with your head. You have no idea where they came from or what evoked this feeling in your chest, but while looking anywhere but at Jaemin, your gaze falls on other couples passing by. You were instructed to watch them if you’re having trouble recreating the subtle romantic gestures that indicate dating. Advice from him no doubt, one that you wish you could forget because it’s too late telling your brain to forget what it’s been taught. But the question is, why the sudden turning of stomachs at the sight of them?

While failing to watch your step, you lose your balance and stumble on your own feet, meeting the hard ground hands-first. You feel eyes on you for a short moment; just a mere second any stranger might spare to witness the unfortunate event before moving on with their tour.

That’s it, except for Jaemin, who is there to pull you up in a manner of utmost care, dusting off your clothes, taking you to a more secluded area with benches to rest on and asking you at least three times if you’re alright before you can snap out of your surprised state and let out a murmur of affirmation.

In the whirlwind of emotions rushing through your slightly clouded mind, you put the embarrassment of your fall aside. As Jaemin turns your hand around to inspect it, you realize that no amount of hand-holding numbs your reaction to the touch of his warm hands. 

And no amount of his exaggerated lovey-dovey gestures of affection could prepare you for the look of genuine worry over something so insignificant on his face.

“You fell on your hands, they must be scrapped… let’s get them under cold water, it would wash away the dirt too.” 

“It’s okay I can do it myself.” You back away from Jaemin, running to take care of it.

And that’s when you realize it.

Pretending to be Jaemin’s partner might be the biggest mistake of your life.

Because it’s starting to feel a little too real.

When you exit the bathroom, Jaemin is waiting for you outside, arms crossed with an unreadable expression on his face. The two of you continue your museum date as normal, nothing out of the ordinary happening other than Jaemin just being Jaemin. 

When lunchtime rolls around, Jaemin takes you into the museum café, refusing to let you pay for anything even though he bought the museum tickets as well. Struggle as much as you want, Jaemin was pretty stubborn.

You and Jaemin sit across from each other, nursing cups of hot chocolate. The quiet buzz of conversation around you blends with the faint classical music playing overhead, the calmness contrasting your otherwise chaotic day.

You’re still nursing your wounded pride (and scraped hands) from earlier. Jaemin’s fussing had been embarrassing, sure, but also... oddly touching. It’s been messing with your head ever since.

“You’re being quiet,” Jaemin says, breaking the silence. He stirs his drink and watches you with another unreadable expression. “Not complaining. Unusual for you.”

“Just tired,” you mutter, avoiding his gaze. “This whole thing is exhausting.”

“Yeah?” He leans back, “What part? The fake dating, or me?”

“Both.”

His laugh is soft, almost self-deprecating. “Fair.”

A moment passes, and you realize he’s studying you. Not with his usual playful smirk, but something more serious. It’s unsettling and scary, like he’s peeling back layers you didn’t even know you had.

“You know,” he starts, voice quieter now, “you’ve always hated me.”

Your head snaps up. “What? I don’t—”

“Don’t lie. I noticed.” he cuts in, but there’s no malice in his tone. “It’s fine. I get it. I mean, I’m Na Jaemin, right? The playboy. The guy who’s ‘probably slept with half the school.’” He uses his fingers to air quote the phrase, lips forming a bitter smile. “That’s what people say, isn’t it?”

You feel a pang of guilt. It’s exactly what you’ve always thought, always assumed about him.

He continues, eyes fixed on his drink. “Funny thing is, that wasn’t true at first. I wasn’t like this in high school. Sure, I was flirty, but it was harmless, y’know? Then one day, someone started a rumor about me. Said I hooked up with some senior at a party.” He shrugs. “It wasn’t true, but people believed it. And once the rumors started, they didn’t stop. Girls came up to me and I just... didn’t say no.”

You blink, caught off guard by the honesty in his voice. “Why didn’t you?”

“Why not?” His smile not breaking, “They already thought I was that guy. And honestly? It was easier to play the part than fight it. People liked the idea of me being the ‘fun, no-strings-attached’ guy. I became what they wanted.”

You’re quiet, the weight of his words settling heavily in your chest. All this time, you’d judged him without really knowing him. And now, sitting across from him, you realize how wrong you’d been.

“I’m sorry,” you say, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

“For what?”

“For... hating you, I guess. I just—” You hesitate, fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve, searching for the right words. “I’ve never liked the whole ‘playboy’ thing. It feels... shallow. And I don’t understand how people can be so casual about it.”

Jaemin’s gaze softens. “That’s because it’s not your thing. And that’s okay.”

Your eyes lit up with shock. You definitely weren’t expecting Jaemin to be this receptive towards your criticisms of him. “I guess I’ve always judged people like you because I don’t... get it. Sex and dating just seem so complicated and messy. I don’t want anything to do with it.”

Jaemin tilts his head, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “You’re ace, right?”

You nod, surprised he remembered. He must’ve heard it somewhere, you barely told anyone except for your close friends. Others just assumed, which was fine by you.

“That’s... honestly kind of cool,” he says, leaning forward. “I mean it. You don’t have to deal with all this shit. Expectations, drama, people using you for what they want. You just... are. I envy that.”

“You do?” The idea feels absurd. Jaemin, envying you?

“Yeah.” He smiles, but there’s a hint of sadness in it. “I’ve spent so much time being what other people expect. Sometimes I don’t even know who I really am. But you? You’re just you. That’s... rare.”

His words catch you off guard, leaving a strange ache in your chest. You wonder if he’s just been hiding behind a mask this whole time. Who really was the Na Jaemin sitting right in front of you right now? “Well,” you say softly, “I think you’re more than what people say about you.”

He raises an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “Careful, Y/N. That almost sounded like a compliment. You’re supposed to hate me.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” you shoot back, but there’s no hostility in your tone.

For the first time, you see him for who he really is. Not Na Jaemin, the playboy, your rival… but just... Jaemin. And maybe, just maybe, you don’t hate him as much as you thought.

When the two of you finished your museum exploration, you found yourselves in the gift shop. The aisles were packed with trinkets, books, and stuffed animals, the kind of things that were charming but utterly unnecessary and overly expensive. You didn’t plan on buying anything, but Jaemin insisted he wanted to pick up something for a friend.

Shivering slightly, you rubbed your arms, trying to warm up in the chill from the air conditioning blowing down from the vent above.

“Cold?” Jaemin asked, his sharp eyes catching your sudden movement.

“Oh, just the A/C,” you replied quickly, waving him off, but you couldn’t stop the flush creeping over your cheeks.

“Do you want my coat?” He was already starting to remove his gray jacket, but you held up a hand.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you said hastily. “It’ll be warmer outside.”

Jaemin paused, then smirked. “Aren’t you glad your friends dragged you to that party?” He asked, standing right beside you now, picking up a penguin from the stuffed animal bin. “Isn’t he cute?”

“Absolutely not,” you said, laughing despite yourself. “Though I’ll admit, this has been... fun. Even if the ‘fake dating’ part threw me for a loop. And yes, he’s super cute. But penguins aren’t my favorite.” 

He raised an eyebrow, eyes burning into you, as he turned the penguin over in his hands. “Who said it was fake?”

You blinked at him, unsure if you’d heard right. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He didn’t answer, just hummed and walked away, leaving you standing there with your arms crossed, frowning after him. What’s he playing at?

Trying to shake off the odd tension, you wandered to another shelf and found yourself staring at a tower of cell phone plushies. Your eyes landed on a bunny plush, adorable, with floppy ears, sparkling blue eyes, and a pink nose. You reached for it, but so did another hand.

“Oops—sorry,” you stammered, looking up to see Jaemin standing beside you again.

“Oh,” he said, his voice light, but his eyes were unreadable.

“I was just—”

“Which one did you want?” he asked, his tone suddenly serious.

“The bunny,” you admitted, pointing. “But it’s the last one, and if you wanted it—”

Before you could finish, he grabbed it.

“Actually, I did,” he said, pulling out his wallet and heading to the cashier.

You stood there, stunned and a little annoyed. Seriously? He’s that kind of guy?

As you stared forlornly at the remaining plushies: a raccoon, a squirrel, and a cat that weren’t nearly as cute. You sighed. It’s fine. It’s just a toy. But somehow, it still stung.

“Here.”

You turned to see Jaemin dangling the bunny plush in front of you, a playful grin on his face. “You—I thought you wanted it?” you said as you reached out to take it. The plush felt even softer than it looked.

“I did,” he said with a wink. “But I wanted to buy it for you.”

“I—thank you.” You stumbled over your words, suddenly feeling silly but also oddly happy. A big, goofy grin spread across your face as you hugged the bunny to your chest.

Jaemin chuckled softly. “You’re cute when you’re flustered, you know that?”

“Shut up,” you fired back, but your cheeks still burned.

You started to turn away, but Jaemin stopped you with a gentle tug on your sleeve. His expression was different now, serious, almost nervous, as he looked at you.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice quieter. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Your stomach flipped. “What is it?”

“This... whole fake dating thing?” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost shy. That was strange in comparison to his usual confidence. “It wasn’t just about my ex, or shutting people up. I—I’ve been watching you for a while. I mean, not in a creepy way,” he added quickly, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “I just... I’ve always been interested in you. You’re smart, funny, and you don’t care about impressing anyone. You’re... different. In a good way.”

Oh you weren’t expecting that. You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “Jaemin, I—”

“I know you have concerns,” he said, cutting you off gently. “About... your sexuality, and what people might think. But I don’t care about any of that. I don’t care what the world expects or what people say. I care about you. And I’m not asking you to change or be anything other than yourself. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with sincerity. You didn’t know what to say. You’d spent so long assuming Jaemin was just a shallow playboy, someone who could never understand you. But now, looking into his eyes, you realized how wrong you’d been. Jaemin understood you way too well. Enough to the point where he was hitting all the right points of reassurance in your heart.

“I don’t know if I can be what you’re looking for,” you whispered.

He smiled softly. “You already are.”

For a moment, the world around you faded. The noise of the gift shop, the bustle of other shoppers. It was just you and Jaemin, and the quiet, fragile connection that had grown between you.

Maybe this wasn’t fake after all.

You realized just how much he’d been hiding. Jaemin, the playboy everyone admired, the guy who never seemed to take anything seriously, was opening up to you in a way that was raw, even vulnerable.

“Honestly?” you whispered, clutching the bunny plush to your chest. “I never thought someone like you would understand... someone like me.”

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and reassuring. “I get that. I probably don’t fit the part, huh? But, Y/N, you’re incredible just as you are. I think it’s amazing that you know what you want and what you don’t want. I wish I’d figured that out sooner.”

You looked down, feeling way too emotional, “So, you really don’t... mind?”

Jaemin shook his head, his smile was gentle. “Not even a little. I’m here because I like you for who you are. You don’t need to be anyone else or change anything about yourself. I’m fully willing to love you. Just like this.”

His words settled over you, as warm and comforting as his coat might have been. The insecurities you’d held about relationships, about your identity, all the ways you feared you might not be enough for someone. Maybe never even find someone at all? They began to melt, replaced by a quiet sense of peace.

“So... if this isn’t fake, does that mean this is... this date is… real?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jaemin smiled, reaching down to take your hand, his fingers intertwined with yours in a way that felt so natural it sent a shiver down your spine. “It’s as real as you want it to be. No pressure, no expectations. Just us, figuring this out together.”

Looking up at him, you felt something you hadn’t quite felt before. This wasn’t about conforming to anyone’s idea of love or romance. It was about connection. And standing there, surrounded by stuffed animals and museum souvenirs, you felt like you’d found something rare.

You squeezed his hand, a small smile breaking across your face. “Alright, Jaemin. Let’s give this a try. Just... don’t go stealing all the last plushies every time we’re out together, okay?”

He laughed, his grin brightening at your words. “Only if you agree to keep that bunny plush with you as a reminder.”

“Of what?”

“Of this moment. And of the fact that someone finds you absolutely perfect, exactly as you are.”

The two of you walked out of the gift shop hand in hand, leaving behind any doubts and stepping into something perfectly real.

PERM TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @ldh0000 @polarisjisung

[imaginedanvrs]

ready or not, here we come

ghostface!wandanatcarol x reader

masterlist

word count: 5.3k

warnings: home invasion, death threats, knife play, cutting, some blood, slapping, stalking, begging, fingering, restraint, strap on sex (r receiving), anal, double penetration, triple penetration, overestimation, implied character death. lmk if i missed anything

It was pretty much a once in a lifetime moment for you to have the entire house to yourself, so you were more than prepared to take full advantage. Trouble was, there were too many options and only one night to fulfil as much as you could.

  You could have brought someone home from your local bar to fool around with on whatever surface you pleased, though that meant being away from the house for a couple hours because your home was outside of town. You could have dug up your secret bag of weed in the back of your closet to smoke the house down, but if the potent smell still lingered when your parents strolled through the door the next day then you would be in deep shit. Maybe you should have just gotten off and made the most of not worrying about being too loud while enjoying your own company. 

  When you stepped into the lounge your eyes landed on the tv standing proudly at the front. Then again, maybe you could just watch your favourite horror films on the best quality screen in the house without anyone around to make noises of disgust at the kill scenes. Paired with the raw cookie dough your mum always scolded you for eating, it could be the perfect night. 

  You dashed upstairs and swiftly changed into your sleeping shorts and shirt, unaware of the heavy gaze that watched you strip. You practically lived in the middle of nowhere and had never really felt the need to close your blinds when you changed. Or even when you slept. It was a good area - quiet. 

  Just as your bare feet hit the downstairs landing, the phone rang through the hall. You considered ignoring it because whoever was on the other line certainly wasn’t going to be calling for you and from the sounds of it, half the people that your parents answered to were reps or scammers. Still, you were willing to bet the one phone call you didn’t answer was the one someone in the house was expecting but never mentioned. 

  “Hello?” You asked as you eyed the kitchen you were eager to get to. 

  “Hello?” A male voice came through.

  “Yes?” You frowned, wanting to get on with your evening and not entertain whoever was giving up their own Friday night to call your house.

  “Who is this?” The man asked. 

  “Who are you trying to reach?” You questioned back, maintaining your manners despite not being the least bit interested. 

  “What number is this?” He continued. Okay, you were done with this. 

  “Probably not the one you’re looking for,” you chuckled. “Goodnight,” you said and placed the phone back on the receiver without another word. You started back towards the kitchen when the phone rang behind you again. 

  Seriously?

  You glanced back at the device, wondering if it was just playing up but after several tones you trudged back and picked it up. “Hello,” you answered. 

  “I’m sorry, I had the wrong number,” the man told you with a certain calmness you were supposed to be feeling while you devoured the sugary treat you were craving. 

  “So why’d you dial it again?”

  “To apologise,” he said simply.

  “You’re forgiven, goodnight,” you repeated but apparently the caller wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet. 

  “Wait, wait. Don’t hang up,” he insisted and you wondered briefly if he was as stoned as you could have been. He sounded it.

  “What?”

  “I wanna talk to you for a minute,” he said. You rolled your eyes, mildly amused by the caller’s unusual antics. 

  “There are other numbers for that, bye,” you informed lightly, pressing the phone down firmer than before. You strolled away and the silence remained. 

  The caller left your mind as soon as you began mixing together the ingredients you needed and left your house in a comfortable silence as you worked. Your hands worked absently, placing everything together until you were done. The moment you finished washing your hands, the phone rang again.

  You huffed, picking up the device. “Hello?” You asked, patience clearly running out. 

  “Why don’t you wanna talk to me?” You weren’t surprised to hear his voice.

  “Who is this?” You frowned as you gathered the bowl and a drink in your free hand. 

  “You tell me,” he replied, like he was such a smart ass. “You tell me your name and I’ll tell you mine,” he said playfully. You scoffed a little.

  “I don’t think so,” you told him though you weren’t so quick to hang up this time, hoping that entertaining him for a bit longer would make him stop. 

  “What is that?” He asked instead when you placed the bowl down on the table. 

  “Just something to snack on while I watch a movie,” you explained absently as you retrieved your drink. 

  “What kind?”

  “Just some scary movie,” you told him vaguely because you hadn’t decided on one yet. 

  “You like scary movies?” You smiled at the teasing manner he used whenever people were trying to scare their friends, willing to bet he was leading up to something.

  “Uh huh.”

  “What’s your favourite scary movie?” He asked and you grinned more. 

  “Halloween,” you recited at once. “I like the classics. What’s yours?”

  “Guess.” You opened up Netflix on the tv to put the film on and saw a few horror titles on there to give you some inspiration. “No cheating,” he warned and you scoffed again. 

  “Nightmare on Elm Street,” you suggested. He merely chuckled. 

  “So, you got a boyfriend?” The mystery caller continued. You didn’t comment on the random change of topics as you ventured leisurely around your house double checking all of the locks before you got ready to hang up and settle down. 

  “No, why? Do you want to ask me out on a date?” You entertained further. It wasn’t like you were ever going to meet this guy.

  “Maybe,” he chuckled. “You never did tell me your name?”

  “Why do you wanna know my name?” You approached the front door with an excited spring in your step. 

  “Because I wanna know who I’m looking at.” You swallowed thickly with your hand on the handle of the door, feeling an icy cold drop in your chest as you stood perfectly still. 

  “What did you say?” You spoke slowly, turning the lock on the door without checking if it was already locked or not. 

  “I said I wanna know who I’m talking to,” he replied simply as you exhaled with forceful steadiness. You didn’t respond to him as you switched the porch light on and peered outside. “Hello?” Came the voice as you scanned the area the light cast onto. You found nothing and in a way that felt worse. 

  “Look, I gotta go,” you told him as you turned the porch light off, feeling the need to make it look as though there was no one in the house. Whoever was calling was probably just some bored teenager that wanted to scare you. Maybe they knew you from school and had heard you in passing mention your love for horror movies. 

  “You hang up on me and I’ll gut you like a fish,” he spat, shifting his tone entirely. “Understand?” You didn’t respond, too busy flickering your gaze over every window and door in your immediate vicinity. “Yeah.” You could hear the smile in the sick fucks voice as your hands began to shake. 

  “I wanna play a game with you,” he said. “Can you handle that?” There was a clear taunt to his voice as you approached the window closest to you and peered out into the pitch black. You remembered your science teacher making a comment about light being on one side of a window at night. Though you couldn’t make out a thing in the darkness, anyone on the other side of that glass could see you in your fearful entirety. 

  “Can you see me?” 

  “Listen, I am two seconds from calling the police,” you warned, entirely too aware of how unthreatening you appeared when your voice was shaking and tears were stuck in your throat. 

  “They’d never make it in time,” he told you. 

  “What do you want?” You whimpered, pacing through your home. 

  “To see what your insides look like.” You hung up the phone and frantically dialled the three numbers you needed when the doorbell rang. You stumbled backwards through the corridor to get to the other side of the house while your blurred eyes stayed glued to the front door. 

  “Leave me alone!” You screamed though it did nothing to warn off the trespasser because less than a second later a cloaked figure smashed through the glass door behind you. They shook off the glass and slight disorientation as you bolted out of the room, dropping the phone in your fright. You had never felt fear like it as you heard them run after you, heavy boots crunching on the glass they had shattered to reach you. 

  You had just enough time to unlock and open the front door as you heard the cloaked figure advance and for a brief second you had a spark of hope that if you just kept running, you would escape them. The last thing you had expected was to throw open the door and be faced with the same eerie ghost mask you hadn’t gotten the chance to see the other invader wear. You didn’t give it much thought though, because it was more than obvious that whoever was behind that mask was not someone that wanted to help you. 

  Miraculously, you dodged them both when they lunged for you, sprinting to your right with no real plan as to how you could escape them both while inside your home. Your blood was pumping as fast as the adrenaline struck every limb in your body, willing you to just move. You obeyed, running full force into the solid body that appeared out of nowhere. 

  You grunted and before you could fall down on your own, the third masked figure took hold of your shirt and threw you down to the hard floor behind them with ease. You hit the wooden floor hard, your ribs taking the full impact and aching in protest to the bend they endured. You ignored the ache that was dulled by the shock and scrambled to get to your feet and give yourself some fighting chance against the odds, but a military style boot pressed firmly into the centre of your back and held you in place. Your lungs screamed at the suppression but you were in no state to help. 

  “Please,” you cried out as you tried to reach behind you to scratch at any exposed skin you could find. “I have money,” you attempted to negotiate with tears streaming down your cheeks. 

  “Aw, she has money,” one of them echoed. You recognised that haunting voice. 

  “You,” you whispered. 

  “Me,” the guy from the phone answered back. 

  “Look at all the effort I’ve gone to. Can I ask you out on a date now?” The others chuckled and you frowned at how similar they all sounded. 

  “I’ll do anything,” you told them, still struggling under their weight. 

  “Yes,” they said simply. “You will.” Suddenly, you were kicked onto your back and forced to gaze up at the three strangers before you. The first thing you noticed were the knives. They all held the same dagger that glistened threateningly under your home’s lights, itching to have their polished blade’s stained with whatever they desired to take from you. 

  “You’re going to be our first,” the one closest to you declared as they crouched down next to you and tilted their head, as though considering where to start.

  “You should be honoured,” another told as they strolled around the perimeter of the room until they were in your blind spot. “You’re going to be the first one to feel our blades,” they whispered close to your ear and hauled you up by the hair so you were pressed firmly against their cloaked front and unable to squirm away when their menacing blade was pressed against your neck.

  “So we thought we’d do something a little special for you.” Your desperate attempts to claw at the body behind you only served to amuse the other intruders whose cloaks were too thick for your nails even in your survival fueled strength. 

  “Please!” You begged again, unable to escape the coolness of the blade that was dangerously close to your jugular. It was futile to fight against one of them, never mind hope to get past the two that blocked both your exits. 

  “Please,” the one behind you mocked. “Please what?” They waited patiently for your answer as you stared at them in terror. 

  “Please don’t kill me,” you said quickly, knowing it wasn’t going to make a difference. “If you leave I won’t say anything. I don’t know who any of you are,” you reasoned. They looked between each other in silent communication before reaching for the ghost masks and pulling them swiftly from their heads. 

  What the fuck?

  “What about now?” Wanda asked, a smirk gracing the features that you had always admired from afar. Next to her, Natasha’s gaze bore into yours, void of the clear excitement her girlfriend had and instead looking at you like one of her hunting trophies she had collected from far too young an age. 

  You couldn’t see her, but Carol’s unmistakable voice was by your side. “Now lets play that game.” Her lips ghosted over your neck just under your ear as she spoke and you felt the knife twitch with her impatience. 

  “So competitive,” Wanda chided but her smirk didn’t waver. Natasha remained silent as she watched you. 

  “We’ll give you a five second head start to run,” Carol told you as she reluctantly moved her knife away and shoved you forwards. The pair in front of you stepped aside to create a clear path to the opened front door. 

  “Five,” Carol began and you sprung to your feet. To all of their surprise, you didn’t go for the door, you went for the stairs. 

  The three women were the best athletes in your school and you knew that if you ran out of the house you would have no chance of outrunning any of them, but maybe if you got ahold of the handgun your dad kept in his bedroom, you would stand a better chance of surviving the night. 

  “Four,” they continued as you ascended the stairs, scrambling over the steps quicker than you ever had in your life, even when you were a young child that thought monsters might be following you in the dark. Except this time they really were. 

  “Three.” You barged into your parents room and made for the safe in the corner. 

  “Two.” Your fingers fumbled against the number pad, making you enter the code wrong the first time until it clicked in confirmation for you to swing the door open to present an empty space. Your heart plummeted. 

  “One.” There was no time to ponder the location of the missing weapon, the only thing you could do was sprint to the best exit available. 

  “Ready or not, here we come,” Carol taunted as three sets of boots thudded up the stairs. Taking your chance, you ran to your own room towards the window that was in place just above the porch’s shelter. If you jumped from your own window down to the roof, there would be less chance of you injuring yourself and you would have a better shot of outrunning the intruders. 

  By the time you made it to your window, the first of the three was in your room just in time to see you struggling to pry open the old wood. Your heart hammered in your chest, refusing to look back at them as you failed to get a good grip on the window, unaware that it had been glued shut an hour prior. 

  “It’s almost a shame how predictable you are,” Natasha told you, grabbing you by the arm and hauling you on to your bed. Just as you landed, you leant back and put all of your energy into swinging your elbow into her ribs. She stumbled back at the impact and you moved to strike again but a pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist and lifted you just an inch off the floor. “But at least you’ve got some fight in you,” Natasha quipped as she watched you flair about in Carol’s arms. 

  “Fuck you!” You spat, realising that begging and compromising weren’t going to help you. “Let me go!”

  “But darling, we can’t let you run off now. You’re bleeding,” Wanda told you, voice thick with concern you knew she didn’t have. You frowned, unable to recall when their knives had actually broken skin until you were introduced to Natasha’s dagger. She swiped the fierce blade across your abdomen, slicing through your thin shirt and leaving a trail of red across your skin that made you hiss. It wasn’t deep, but the next one was. 

  “And now you’ve messed up your clothes,” Carol added as she held you firmly against her so that Wanda could tear your shirt off you while you continued to struggle. 

  “You poor thing,” the Sokovian pouted as she examined the scarlet streaks across your stomach, tracing them with her fingers and smearing the blood up to your tits. She groped and pinched at your hardened nipples, chuckling when you turned your head to the side with a whine. 

  “Stop,” you whimpered, voice small. 

  “You’re not in charge here,” Carol warned. Her fingers were digging into your hips so firmly that you were sure she was going to leave you with bruises. You were powerless against it as you squirmed in her grasp, even as she threw you down onto your bed. 

  “Fuck!” You cried out when you felt another slash hit the back of your thighs. You tried to scramble away but a gloved hand wrapped itself around the back of your neck and held you down into the mattress. 

  “You had your chance to run,” Wanda said as she appeared on your pillows and switched her hold to your hair to tug you up and face her. You gritted your teeth with a glare, not ready to give up your fight yet. “Now you do as we say.”

  You continued to glare at the Sokovian as a strong pair of gloved hands lifted your hips up to slide your shorts and underwear down painfully slowly, just because they could. The cold air hit you and sent a shiver through your body while your cheeks heard in embarrassment at being so exposed to the woman. You were sure Wanda’s heavy gaze noticed, but she didn’t comment, instead focused on rubbing her covered thumb across your lips. 

  “Open up.” She tapped them twice but you kept your lips firmly together. She smiled, amused, then delivered a harsh slap to your cheeks that heated them further. You still didn’t comply until she slapped you harder and your mouth fell open in shock, giving Wanda the chance to slip her fingers into your mouth and immediately press down on your tongue. You went to bite down on the rough material but the hand in your hair was suddenly gripping your jaw and holding it apart. You gagged slightly around her digits, trying your best to block out the laughter you heard around the room. 

  “I bet you’ll look so good choking on my strap,” Wanda mumbled, enchanted by the sight of you drooling around her gloves. Your protests were incoherent and you had a hard time not letting your head empty as Wanda slowly thrust her fingers. Even when she took her fingers out to pull her gloves off before filling your mouth again, you didn’t mumble a complaint…until you felt two fingers stroke your bare cunt. 

  You tried to twist around to at least see who it was, but Wanda was adamant on keeping your gaze fixed on her as one of the women collected the wetness you didn’t know was there and rubbed several circles on your clit. Your hips bucked involuntarily and you whined around Wanda’s digits. 

  “What was it that got you so sweet, doll?” Carol asked. “Was it when Natasha cut you? When we chased you up the stairs? Told you all those nasty things on the phone?” The blonde didn’t expect an answer and didn’t wait for one. She pushed two fingers forwards, groaning when your pussy took her in. You heard her curse and wanted to thrash away, but it was hard to deny how good it felt to have her skilled fingers inside you. 

  “Desperate whore,” Natasha commented as she appeared by Wanda’s side. The pair shared a passionate kiss as the Sokovian continued to thrust her own fingers and you couldn’t help but clench at the sight. 

  “You like watching them, doll? I didn’t take you for a voyeur,” Carol chuckled, curling her digits to elicit the reaction she wanted. You moaned when she brushed against the spot you needed, momentarily forgetting about the weapons they held until Natasha placed hers against your jugular. 

  “Malysh, let us play a little longer,” Wanda pouted to her lover. Natasha’s blank eyes bore into your own, still void of the excitement the other women held. Still, she pulled her knife away with a huff, making her girlfriend giggle as though she had become giddy at the promise of impending violence. “Let’s keep her entertained so she doesn’t regret that, huh?” Wanda whispered with a grin. You had always loved seeing her smile from afar, but in that moment you could only see the craze that sparkled in her eyes. She was terrifying, but still beautiful. 

  Almost so beautiful that between her and the fingers still steadily fucking you, you didn’t notice her unzip her trousers and pull out her strap until she was forcing you down on it. Your gags filled the room as she pushed you down by the back of your head, moaning softly at the way you struggled to take her. Tears filled your eyes and a distinct burning started up at the back of your throat as Wanda tried to break through. Your lips were wrapped so perfectly around her that she couldn’t help but buck her hips up slightly to chase some friction at your expense while you hit her thighs. 

  “Fuck, you get so tight when you can’t breath,” Carol groaned as pushed a third finger into you and scissored her digits slightly to enhance the stretch. Before you could grow accustomed, she pulled her soaked fingers out and pressed her own silicone toy between your legs. She prodded bashfully at your throbbing clit until you were shaking, wetting the length of the toy. 

  Carol muttered a curse when she pressed the head of her cock against your entrance that refused to part for her. You whimpered around the toy stuffing your mouth, feeling how large Carol was against you and how much it might hurt when she-

  “Take it,” the blonde hissed when she finally forced her strap inside your cunt. Your legs gave out but she quickly took hold of your hips and used them to thrust further, deeper, inside you. 

  “How’s that feel, love?” Wanda asked as she brushed your hair away from your features that were blurred with pain and pleasure. The stretch was intense and it was hard to imagine a point that you would even begin to adjust to Carol’s size as she refused to let up, adamant that you take all of her. “You look so pretty getting stuffed like a good fucktoy,” she told you, almost in a singsong tone. “Don’t you think?” Wanda turned to her partner who sat in your chair to the side, her gaze dead set on you. If you hadn’t already been so overstimulated, you would have shuddered. Natasha was looking at you like you were her prey and you couldn’t hold her gazy any longer. 

  Carol didn’t pause for a second when her hips finally pressed against your own. She didn’t give you a moment to adjust or prepare, she instantly drew her hips back only to slam the entire length back into your abused cunt. You cried out, tears streaming down your cheeks. 

  Wanda cooed at the sight of you struggling to take them both, whispering condescending praises that you couldn’t pick up entirely. ��Sweet fuck’ and ‘good whore’ were all you picked up as Wanda held you by the hair and made you continuously deepthroat her own toy while Carol pumped her cock in from behind, pace unrelenting. Your cunt burned in a pleasure you never could have imagined, bringing out moans you didn’t want to please the intruders with but couldn’t stop. It just felt so good to be used. Too good, more than you could hold off on. 

  “Gonna cum,” you managed to communicate when your whines grew louder and Wanda pulled you off her strap, spit down your chin and coating her toy. 

  “Cum for us,” Wanda said, pupils blown with lust at the sight beneath her. She pushed her strap back into your mouth but this time angled it slightly lower so that the harness could provide better friction for her clit. You didn’t realise what you were doing for her until you registered the stutter of her hips as she came with you. 

  “Fuck,” Wanda voiced as you cried out around her strap, clenching and pulsing around the cock in your pussy as Carol continued to fuck you relentlessly, pace still harsh. You shuddered and moaned, unable to distinguish up from down as your high was drawn out and you were sent toppling into a second one. 

  “Greedy thing,” you vaguely heard Natasha mutter as she stood up from the chair. Her boots thudded as she stalked towards the tangle of bodies, still only eyeing you. 

  “Come on, Nat. If she wants more, let's give her more,” Carol said, a smirk on her features that you never got to see. Natasha hummed, a trace of a smile threatening to break through.

  As pathetic as it was, you could have cried when Carol pulled out. You immediately felt empty but bit your tongue when you felt a pair of hands haul you up the bed until you were straddling Wanda’s own piece that glistened in the low light. She didn’t give you any instructions or warnings, merely pulled your hips down until you were half way filled with her strap. Without anything to stop you this time, your moans bounced off of the walls. 

  Despite the laughter you heard, you were also met with a firm slap to the face from Natasha. She still had her gloves on and had more force to the act than Wanda did, more aggression. It was clear that out of the three, she was the one that wanted to hurt you the most. She grabbed your chin, assessing you for a hard minute as you grinded into the base of Wanda’s strap. 

  “Danvers, come here,” she said without taking her eyes off of you. Carol grumbled something about the redhead not being in charge but complied as the two swapped places. It unnerved you greatly to know she was lurking somewhere behind you, but the other women kept your focus on them. 

  Wanda suddenly bucked her hips up and took a hold of your waist, making you follow her shallow thrusts as though she didn’t want to be that far from you. It meant that the head of her cock hit the back of your pussy more often and with more force and it felt incredible. 

  “You look so good like this,” Wanda husked, her accent slipping through slightly in her haze. 

  “Keep her still,” Natasha’s voice came behind you. Wanda stilled her movements and slapped your thigh when you tried to move against her. You met her smirk with a silent plea until you felt two wet fingers prod against your ass. 

  “Wait-” you tried but Natasha was already pushing them into the first knuckle, despite your discomfort. 

  “No,” the redhead said back as her lips ghosted over your shoulder and her teeth sunk into your skin. You whined at the dual pain and in trying to move away only made the strap shift inside you. 

  It was all too much as you felt Natasha begin to thrust her fingers into your ass steadily. She twisted and curled her fingers before fanning them out to open you up while Wanda began to move your hips once more. The discomfort and pleasure blurred together until you found yourself craving anything they gave you. Your moans picked up more when Carol’s lips found your nipples. 

  “You’ll take what we give you,” Natasha said, gliding her dagger around your torso where the looming threat settled. She pulled her fingers out of your tightest hole only to swiftly replace them with her strap.

  “Fuck, please!” You gasped at the sudden intrusion. “Too much,” you tried to communicate as you felt your body stretch once more. 

  “Shut her up,” Natasha huffed as she bore more of her weight down on you so that you took more of her piece. Your walls stretched so painfully that you almost didn’t register the cut to your torso. You cried out and fell against Wanda only to be pushed back so Carol could slide her strap between your lips. 

  With all three of them pounding into you in a purely primal manner, your body finally gave in to their assaults. Your eyes glazed over, unable to focus on any one thing as every thought in your mind struggled to make itself known. All you were aware of was the way seemingly every nerve in your defeated body was ablaze with an onslaught on sensations. The three women eventually found a rhythm to fall into together that ensured you were never empty, even as drops of blood fell from your scarlet chest you were too lost in the pleasure to acknowledge. 

  “You’re going to be the prettiest victim,” Natasha mumbled against your ear, biting the lobe softly. You whimpered, though not in fear. Their straps were hitting your depths over and over, never letting up for a second. Your holes welcomed them greedily, clenching around the silicone everytime they pulled out and making each woman grunt at the tightness. They made comments you mostly missed, but the degradation you picked up on only made you wetter, as Wanda pointed out. They were ruthless and even when you came again, they didn’t stop. 

  You whined around Carol’s toy, trying desperately to communicate how sore and used you felt. You needed a break to let your body recover, but it was made clear to you that you were done when the three women agreed you were. They pulled more orgasms from your wrecked frame, not caring when you soaked Wanda’s thighs with your cum or Carol’s with your spit. When you eventually passed out from the overstimulation, they withdrew. 

  You slumped against the Sokovian in an exhausted heap, barely able to keep your eyes open as she cooed to you how much of a perfect slut you were for them. You mumbled a protest when you were manoeuvred onto your back on the bed, finally opening your eyes to see Wanda leaning over you with a deranged look upon her face and shimmering knife in hand. “I know,” she said softly when your eyes widened in fear and tried to move your spent frame. “It’s scary, but you knew this bit would happen,” she continued, stroking your face as she dug the knife under your chin. 

  Carol and Wanda appeared at her side and you finally saw Natasha smile. She was smug, they all were. They had won. “Thank you for this, baby,” Wanda said, raising her dagger above her head. “You’ll look beautiful with our knives in you.”

  Then she struck.

[push-the-heartbrake]

𝙃𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙁𝙤𝙧 𝙔𝙤𝙪 (𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙄𝙣 𝙈𝙮 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩) // 𝙎.𝙍

𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳. 𝘙𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘪𝘳𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦��, 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥𝘦𝘳. 𝘕𝘰𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘶𝘯 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦. 𝘏𝘦𝘺 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘵, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵.

Summary: “I’m not supposed to do this, but you’re the only person still here, so I made us tea.”  — or the one where Spencer really likes the library for its books, the chess, and the girl working the night shift.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader (she/her)

Word count: 14.9k

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI ♡ Cm typical violence, Spencer gets injured but nothing major. Mention of bullying, sick parents, and addiction. Takes place sometime after he got clean, so S4 perhaps? No smut, but talk of sex. Spencer being an insecure virgin and reader having used sex as a coping mechanism in the past.

A/N: Hello!! New blog, new fic. I'm too dumb to write for Spencer, but I tried my best. Reader probably has too much personality and backstory but I stopped caring midway through. No physical descriptors used though, except for some wacky clothing. Tell me what you think? Please? Love ya, bye.

You wouldn’t think it was possible, given how most Americans viewed paying taxes, but for some reason, in some way, a very persistent person at some board meeting somewhere had managed to get through the idea that at least one library in D.C. should be open all hours of the day. 

Spencer, for one, couldn’t be more pleased with that decision. 

He had fond memories of spending long nights in quiet libraries when he was working toward one of his many degrees. Now, his longing for the silence and solitude stemmed from insomnia. He guessed most people his age spent sleepless nights out at nightclubs or in the never-ending search for love or just a one-night stand to suffice some sort of primal need. Spencer wasn’t like that. Never had, nor ever would be.

The library was a better place in every sense. He grew bored out of his mind by being alone in his apartment for too long, but he also got tired of having people around him. His job was social enough. The library was a perfect mixture of the two, requiring silence but still had people in motion so that he didn’t feel entirely isolated. 

He’d browse the shelves, searching for things he hadn’t read. Quickly getting through many books in an evening with his way of processing words. It got to the point where there weren’t enough books about his usual interests, so he would pick up books about old cars that Rossi mentioned and learn about their engineering or read some wacky poetry that Emily had recommended that she loved as a teenager. 

Sometimes he’d bring whatever knitting project he was working on and join some old ladies who met up at the library to knit and discuss romance novels. Spencer didn’t bring much to the conversation, but he liked hearing them talk. He wasn’t much for gossip, but made-up drama between fictional characters was surprisingly entertaining. 

He would also borrow one of the computers and play online chess for hours until his eyes had grown tired from the bright light and he finally thought he might be able to go home and force himself to sleep. Eric, one of the chess players that he frequently met in a local park, showed up sometimes, when he wasn’t swamped with homework or had a curfew to keep. Maybe he should make some friends his own age that weren’t his colleagues, but Eric, at age fifteen, was also the best chess player that Spencer had ever met. 

So, the quietness, the books, the knitting, and the chess were all perks of spending time at the library. The cute girl sitting at the front desk, working almost every night shift alone, was also somewhat of a perk.

Spencer wasn’t entirely sure how it came about or why he was so enamored by even just the idea of you, but he couldn’t help but let his eyes linger for a little bit too long whenever he walked past the front desk or saw you organizing books at some shelf in the library. 

That was a lie. Spencer knew exactly how it happened and why. 

It started with simple people-watching. He liked to imagine wild backstories for people he only saw in passing. Probably a result of being a profiler. 

With students he would wonder about what project they were researching late at night in the library and what their majors were and if he could notice patterns in their appearances and behaviors. 

He’d connect the dots with the old women knitting and their opinions about the romance novels to actual experiences in their own lives. One had been cheated on in her youth and found any sort of love triangle to be awful, while another couldn’t understand certain writers fascination with sneaking in unplanned pregnancies because she had never wanted kids herself. 

And while Eric and he played chess in silence most of the time, he still picked up on how Eric didn’t like how strict his mother was on him and how his sisters got treated differently, more easygoing, than him. 

And then there was you, the only other person who would frequent—well, you worked there—the library so often that Spencer could start to piece together your backstory. 

His first impression was that you were cute, in like an objective way. The same way people would look at Garcia with some sort of childlike awe of how uniquely herself she was. You had that same thing about you, with colorful cardigans and ribbons tied in your hair. 

The second thing he noticed was that you probably didn’t work that much. You were sat at that front desk all night, organizing what needed to be organized and helping those who needed help, but then you were left to yourself for the rest of your shift. You read a lot, but Spencer never got close enough to see what exactly. You also had the news playing really quietly on a little radio, perhaps to not go completely insane from the silent nature of the library. 

At first he thought you weren’t too talkative, but then he observed an interaction you had with a student. A young mother who came to the library to study while her child peacefully slept in their stroller. Spencer wasn’t one to judge. If the child got to sleep and the mother got to study, it was a win-win situation, although unconventional. 

When he saw the mother and baby leave, going up to you to check out some books, he saw just how talkative you were, practically spewing out words about the subjects she was researching and cooing at the baby who was then awake, calling it adorable and quickly playing peekaboo. 

Now, as Spencer sat in a chair, not too far from the entrance and the front desk, acting like he was reading a book he had already read through, he observed you inconspicuously. 

You were fronting books on a display shelf that was the first thing you saw when you entered the library. Usually seasonal books, or that followed a current event or a theme. It was Halloween this time around, and you fought with the mess that was fake cobwebs. A garland of little black bats hung over the shelf and plastic jack-o-lanterns acted as bookstands. He could spot certain covers of books he recognized. Goosebumps, for the children. Stephen King, for the horror fanatics. Edgar Allan Poe, for the poetry lovers. 

You quietly cursed under your breath as your fingers got stuck in the cobwebs, and Spencer had to cover his laugh with an unnatural cough. That was when he saw that your nails were painted a pumpkin-like orange and your black cardigan had a little skeleton pattern. You were going all out with the theme, even if you barely saw any people during the night shift, telling Spencer that you were doing it all for your own enjoyment. 

As you stretched to place books on the highest shelf, he noticed your trousers, and Spencer was only a man—granted a little peculiar and different—but still a man, with working eyes and needs. You wore slacks so well-fitting he wondered what tailor you went to or if you could sew yourself. And Converse, always dark red Converse. You dressed like him, but in a more colorful, feminine way. 

He saw you pick up a book and judge it by its cover, then instead of placing it on display, you put it in a tote bag placed on the cart you had to pick books from. He’d seen you use the same tote bag before, when you were organizing the shelves, placing books back or collecting ones loaned online. The album cover for Kate Bush’s The Kick Inside was on it, not because Spencer knew of the album but because the text was printed on it. 

You used it to pick out books for yourself, Spencer noticed in the moment. While rolling the cart around with books for others, if you saw one that you wanted to read during your shift, you’d place it in the tote bag to not lose it in the masses. 

You were filled and covered in idiosyncrasies, making you nothing but enchanting to watch. And cute, in both the aforementioned objective Garcia-esque way and also a subjective Spencer-esque way. Not in the sense that Spencer found himself subjectively cute, but that you were subjectively cute in a way that felt catered to him and his attractions. 

Spencer thought all of this about you, while he had never even spoken a singular word to you. He would fantasize about what your initial interaction would be like, but he never had the courage to actually do something about it. He wouldn’t say that he was shy, and he normally didn’t find it that difficult to speak to someone, but something about your subjective cuteness made you terrifying. 

And it didn’t come naturally. He had a library card; he didn’t need to talk to you to check out a book. And asking for directions to a certain book seemed pointless when he had the shelves memorized. 

Spencer stood up from his chair to place the book he’d pretend to read back on the right shelf, passing by his favorite section of classics translated into their original languages. He was grateful that D.C. was multicultural enough and filled with diplomats and embassies so that the library found it necessary to take in books that weren’t in English. 

He stopped to browse the Russian selection, his finger grazing the spine of Война и мир. 

Wait… Certain rare books had to be checked out at the front desk. 

And while he already had this book at home, annotated and analyzed, you didn’t know that. He could totally loan this to compare to the version he had at home. This was an earlier copy than his own, and maybe certain parts of the Russian language were different. 

Yes. That could work. He was going to talk to you.

With the book in hand, he willed himself to approach the front desk you were now sitting at after finally winning the wrestle match against the cobwebs. 

You looked up from the computer as you noticed him, the soft glow of overhead lights casting shadows over the high points of your face. A welcoming smile, although well-rehearsed in a customer service-like manner, stunned him as he placed the book and his library card on the counter. 

“War and Peace… in Russian?” you asked, raising a brow as you grabbed the book to scan it. The way you viewed it showed that you recognized the book from the cover, but not the Russian language. And then you looked right up at him, not afraid of keeping eye contact. 

Spencer cleared his throat, suddenly hyperaware of how intently you were looking at him. “I’m rereading it to compare to the English version.” 

“Are you by any chance from Russia?” 

“No,” he said with an honest smile. “I’m from Nevada. But I know enough Russian to get by.”

You let out a low hum of appreciation, your fingers quickly typing something down on the keyboard after having scanned his card. Your nails weren’t only pumpkin-colored, but on them were also minuscule little pumpkin faces. 

“To each their own. Don’t get me wrong, it’s impressive.” 

“Have you read it?” Spencer asked, his curiosity slipping through. 

“No,” you admitted with a laugh. “I picked Infinite Jest as my designated brick of a book that I’ll never finish but still spew opinions about.” 

The honesty of your response caught him off guard, and a small chuckle escaped before he could stop it. 

“Which is embarrassing to admit to someone who actually can read said bricks,” you added. 

“Even worse as a librarian,” he teased, the words leaving his mouth before he had a chance to second-guess them.

“Hey,” you said, your tone mock defensive. “I mostly recommend things to kids anyway. I know all about Daisy Meadows and Captain Underpants.” 

That Spencer was twelve years old when he discovered Tolstoy was something he kept to himself. He understood that most kids wanted something funny or imaginative to read, like underpants or fairies—not Russian realism. 

“How long until you gave up on Infinite Jest?” he asked instead, leaning slightly on the counter in a way that felt more natural than he anticipated.

“I am seated in an office, surrounded by heads and bodies.” The quote escaped you easily, like you actually had it memorized, but the way your smile cracked through revealed that you were painfully aware of the ironic implication of it. 

“That’s the opening sentence,” Spencer pointed out, fighting the urge to laugh outright.

“Captivating, right?” you quipped. 

Spencer kept his smile tight as he enjoyed your sarcastic humor. He would’ve never assumed that Infinite Jest was the beast that broke you. Stereotypically, he thought it was stoners and annoying philosophy majors thinking the world was doomed who enjoyed that book. 

You didn’t look like either.

But there was also the huge amount of guys who kept it in their bookshelves and had it on display when they had girls over, as a conversation piece, although they hadn’t read a word from it. Maybe you had fallen victim to one of those guys and decided to give it a try on your own, at least getting further than they ever had. 

“So you’re more into modern literature?” he was quick to ask, keeping the conversation going. 

He wasn’t even sure if David Foster Wallace was considered modern. Contemporary was probably a better word. In comparison to the Russian mellow kind of realism, Wallace was hysterical. Spencer had read it for the sake of saying that he’d read it. After all, it didn’t take him that long. While he was comfortable being the guy who read Tolstoy in Russian, he wasn’t sure he’d be comfortable being the guy who had Infinite Jest as his holy scripture. It made some interesting points about substance abuse and addiction, but that was about it for Spencer, if he was going to give a literary review. 

“Not really, I adore some classics,” you admitted, before pointing to a small stack of books behind the counter. The ones you’d snuck into your tote bag. “Now I mostly read poetry, though. All kinds, as long as it’s short and impactful.”

“Oh, you’d hate this then,” he said, like a realization, meaning War and Peace. 

You scrunched your nose, nodding softly. “Mhm, and Infinite Jest too.”

There was a beat of silence, not uncomfortable but charged with the kind of potential Spencer wasn’t quite sure what to do with.

“Alright, Tolstoy,” you said, sliding the book over the counter in his direction. “Enjoy your comparative studies.” 

“Thanks,” he replied shortly. 

As he walked away, book in hand, he couldn’t help but glance back once, catching you fiddling with the edges of your cardigan as you returned your focus to the computer screen. If you wanted to hide your smile from him, you weren’t doing that good of a job. 

–––––––––––––––––––––––

Spencer wasn’t sure if he had overthought it, read too much into it, to the point where nothing was making sense. A conversation with a person loaning a book at a library that you worked at probably wasn’t that noteworthy to you, even if it left you dumbly smiling after he’d left. 

So, he didn’t dare walk up to you again. He couldn’t justify it in his head. Maybe when his War and Peace loan expired, he’d find an excuse to check it out again, but until then, Spencer didn’t know how to talk to you. 

On one afternoon, when the unit had just finished up a case in rural Virginia, Spencer had taken the train back home to D.C. and gone to the library earlier than usual. It was more crowded, with students cramming in some last-minute studying for their finals and parents taking their kids for a little after-school adventure. 

He sought refuge in a quiet corner—a cluster of armchairs nestled between the history books and autobiographies—where he could read in peace even though it was busy. But on his way, he was stopped in his tracks. Walking past the kids section, a voice he had begun to recognize caught his attention. 

You sat cross-legged on a colorful mat, a worn picture book spread wide in your hands. Your voice carried the story with a mix of humor and animation as you brought the story to life, reading aloud to an audience of tiny faces. Children leaned forward eagerly, their eyes wide with fascination, while a few younger ones had already succumbed to the comforting cadence of your voice, their tiny bodies sprawled across cushions in peaceful slumber. You held the book up for the kids to see the illustrations, pausing occasionally to add exaggerated voices that sent giggles rippling through the group.

Spencer lingered, a faint smile tugging at his lips, before he walked away to not get noticed. 

As time passed, the library emptied out. He saw people leave, tired from a long day. For him it was the opposite. Now was when his favorite time of day began, if he wasn’t stuck in the limbo of trying to get himself to sleep. But he had the day off tomorrow and could spend all of it sleeping if he wanted to, so tonight he wouldn’t be anxious about the lack of sleep he was getting, and instead fully indulge in the quiet sanctuary that was the library. 

Spencer sat in one of the armchairs, a book open on his lap, though he hadn’t turned a page in over fifteen minutes. Something heavy about the history of Nobel Prize winners in chemistry. He was lost in thought, the events of the day fading into memory. 

Footsteps broke the silence, rubber soles squeaking against the linoleum floor, growing louder until they stopped just beside him. He looked up to see you standing there, two steaming paper mugs in your hands.

“I’m not supposed to do this,” you began, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips, “but you’re the only person still here, so I made us tea.” 

You placed both mugs on the table in front of Spencer before flopping down into an armchair of your own. You had dungarees on and a soft maroon sweater underneath, matching your Converse. Spencer blinked, unable to form a sentence as he watched you get comfortable, picking up a book from the tote bag you always seemed to carry. He didn’t necessarily recognize the cover, but he knew of the author’s name.

“John Cooper Clarke? You’re into punk?” he heard himself ask before he could think twice about it. You didn’t even get the chance to start reading. 

You tilted your head. “You know who he is?” 

“I have a colleague who used to be goth in high school. Full on Siouxsie Sioux. And she has told me about JCC,” Spencer explained. 

Emily. She was the reason he knew about the “punk poet”. He still couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw her yearbook photos from high school. Even less so when she would quote the same poem every single time they had to wait for something—the jet to get ready, blood samples and lab reports, Rossi to catch up when they had to run somewhere. Whatever it was, she would quote Evidently Chickentown. 

“Makes sense,” you replied. “He performed on the same bill as a lot of those early post-punk and goth bands.” 

Spencer smiled, quietly reciting, “The fucking train is fucking late. You fucking wait, you fucking wait.” 

“You’re fucking lost and fucking found. Stuck in fucking Chickentown.” You chuckled, picking up the line seamlessly. Spencer sounded like cursing was something alien to him, as if the crude words didn’t belong to his vocabulary. You found it sweet, yet unusual. “That poem is in this book! Along with the weird one about being someone’s vacuum cleaner, do you know that too?” 

“Uhm, no. I don’t think I know that one,” Spencer admitted, silently begging for you to read it to him. He would be just as excited as the children hearing you read aloud earlier. 

“If I’m annoying or distracting,” you said after a moment, “you can tell me to leave. I just sort of go insane spending all night here alone in silence.” 

He’d been sitting by himself, looking like he was reading a book about chemistry breakthroughs, and maybe that didn’t come across as someone who wanted to be talked to. Spencer at least assumed that was your thought process when shyly admitting that you were seeking company. 

“No, uhm, it’s okay. Thank you for the tea,” Spencer was quick to say before grabbing one of the mugs and taking a small sip. He didn’t want you to leave. If you were voluntarily talking to him, that was better than any made-up War and Peace-related plan he could come up with. 

“I’m Spencer, by the way,” he added. 

You told him your name in return, pointing to your name tag—a little yellow one with Winnie-the-Pooh on it—before reaching out your hand to him. He hadn’t noticed the tag before, and maybe that was because he didn’t want to get caught staring at your chest. 

He looked at your hand, the germaphobe in him coming to life as he observed your dainty fingers. At least in comparison to his own. The orange nail polish was gone and replaced by a simple black coat. Even your hands were cute to him, yet covered in bacteria. 

“Oh, I don’t do handshakes,” he said and took in your reaction, your smile fading as you retracted your hand and hid it in your pocket. 

“The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It's actually safer to kiss,” he felt the need to explain. It was a simple fact, yet he didn’t think of the implications. Spencer’s eyes widened at the sound of his own voice, and he stammered, feeling heat rise to his cheeks, “Uh… not that you and I—I mean, you know what I mean.”

You acted like you didn’t mind, keeping the conversation going without noticing the huge bump in the road that Spencer thought he had created. 

“But doesn’t the other person’s bacteria stay in you forever after you’ve kissed them?” you wondered, a crease forming between your brows as you thought about it. “Don’t quote me on it, but I’ve read that somewhere. It’s like eighty million bacteria exchanged on average in a french kiss, and that some of them stay and colonize, becoming part of your own… what’s it called?” Your voice trailed off, searching for the right word. 

“Microbiome?” he supplied. “The community of microorganisms found living together in one habitat?” 

“That’s the one!” You lit up with realization. “It’s horrifying and poetic that, after you’ve kissed someone, they become part of you forever.” 

He thought of the bacteria, while you thought of the internal battle of someone you’ve kissed staying with you forever. He blamed his background in STEM and his lack of experience with kissing for not seeing the big deal. 

“I’m sure it’s not in any way that’s noticeable to us. It’s modest at worst,” he tried to reassure. 

He wasn’t sure exactly what research you were referencing when mentioning the eighty million bacteria, or if it even was scientific research. Knowing a little bit about you, it could possibly be poetry about clinging to something or someone for too long. But he knew enough about microbiomes and their complexity that one exchange of saliva wouldn’t alter them majorly. Maybe in a constant way, but never majorly. 

“In the sense of bacteria colonizing?” you wondered, seeing Spencer nod. “Well, it’s still psychologically fucked up.” 

Spencer raised his eyebrows at your frankness, urging you to keep talking. 

“I would like to forget the fact that I made out with Cody Parker in ninth grade, but no, he’s stuck in my microbiome. That’s fucked up,” you laughed, gesturing with your hands in frustration. 

“Now, what was so bad about Cody?” 

You huffed before answering. “Captain of the football team. Is that enough of a reason to hate him?” 

Spencer could’ve guessed it from his name. Cody. He could imagine what he looked like and why you would’ve kissed him. Hell, Spencer would’ve probably kissed a guy like him too if given the chance at that delicate age of self-discovery. Just to have it done early, and as a bragging right for the future. His first kiss had been at a college party that he was too young to attend really, with some girl who probably saw him more as a little brother to care for rather than someone she was actually attracted to. 

“Do you also have a deep hatred for anyone that ever played high school football?” Spencer asked with a small, curious smile. 

“You could say that,” you admitted, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. “I lost my virginity to Cody the same night, and then he stole my underwear and stuck them to my locker with a note that said I was up for grabs.” 

You laughed after you said it, but Spencer couldn’t help but wince. He understood why you laughed, a response to make something uncomfortable feel less serious, but he couldn’t believe that someone had done that to you. 

He was an annoying, know-it-all, little boy when he was in high school and had internally justified the bullying he had gone through by telling himself that football players and cheerleaders were just jealous and stupid, probably still stuck in their cliques, in Vegas working dead-end jobs. But you, you shone like light itself, and someone had still found a reason to humiliate you. It didn’t make sense. 

“The football team at my school tied me to a goalpost and stripped me naked in front of a girl I had a crush on,” Spencer shared softly. He wasn’t sure why, but it felt like the right thing. Not to make it seem like he’d had it worse, but to show that you had similarities. 

Your head turned sharply to look at him, eyes wide with disbelief. “Not that we’re competing, but I think you win the bully-off we just had.” You straightened up in your seat, lifting your legs to sit criss-cross. “But you’re cute, though. Was the girl at least nice to you?”

Spencer looked down at his hands, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. You’d called him cute.He thought you were cute. It shouldn’t be the other way around. 

You stared at him like you were questioning his sanity while he reacted to the compliment.  It wasn’t him you were questioning, but the eyesight of all the people Spencer had around him, because why wasn’t he used to being complimented? It didn’t even necessarily need to be about their eyesight. They had to be deaf too, because just from hearing him talk, you were fascinated by the way his brain worked. 

“I graduated high school at the age of twelve, and she was like sixteen, so no, she didn’t care much,” he answered slowly, keeping his cool. He knew now that he never had a chance with the girl anyway, but twelve-year-old Spencer had been heartbroken, and, of course, humiliated. 

Your eyes turned even wider as he spoke. “Huh? Is that legal? Are you some kind of genius?”

“I don’t believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified, but I have an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory,” Spencer admitted matter-of-factly. He didn’t know why it felt like a secret to tell people just how smart he was. In an academic sense, that is. 

“Certified genius,” you declared with a grin. 

“And I do introduce myself as Dr. Spencer Reid when I’m at work,” he added, emphasizing his name.

“You’ve got a PhD?” you asked. The crease between your brows seemed permanent at this point. 

“A few.” 

“More than one?” 

“Mathematics, chemistry, and engineering. BAs in psychology and sociology,” Spencer rattled off, glancing at you cautiously to gauge your reaction.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, throwing your head back dramatically. “I would’ve hated you just as much as those football players.” 

“Not in the sense that I would’ve tied you to a goalpost,” you added quickly, “but more so that I would’ve been insanely jealous. I might still be jealous; the jury is out on that until you explain further.” 

Spencer gave a soft laugh, believing that you wouldn’t have been a mean girl. “Do you want to get into the reasons why certain people are smarter than others?” 

“No, I just…” Your voice trailed off, and you paused to take a sip of your tea. “Do you ever get freaked out over how people’s lives are vastly different even though they’ve spent the same amount of time on earth?” 

He tilted his head slightly, intrigued. “How do you mean?”

“Like, we look similar in age but probably have very few shared experiences because you were born a genius and I was born…” you gestured vaguely, searching for the right words, coming up with nothing in the end. 

You were born… how exactly? Spencer tried to fill in the blank, but his guesses seemed almost offensive. “You don’t appear to be dumb,” Spencer countered gently. “You seem to be socially smarter than I am.” 

“Because I’m sat here oversharing high school stories with virtually a stranger?” you teased, almost self-deprecatingly, like your easy way of talking was a fault. 

And maybe that was true. Spencer knew what it was like to say too much at the wrong time, or have people turn uninterested mid-sentence when he was speaking. But he thought that stemmed from how bad he actually was at talking with people. And you were good at it, with a fluidity and humor to your speech that not many people had. 

“I’m not good with words, and you obviously are,” he settled on saying, earnestly. 

“No, not really. I was never good at anything. Always a straight B-student. It’s a damn mystery how I managed to get this job without a master’s degree,” you said with a shrug. “When I realized my own mediocrity in high school, I stopped trying. I thought it was much more fun to do drugs and get railed in the back of some college boy’s car. Spoiler alert, it’s not.” 

“R-railed?” Spencer stammered, nearly choking on his tea.

“Too crude of a word for you?” 

“No, I just would’ve never assumed—” 

“That I was a slut in my youth?” you retorted, staring him down. “I’m only messing with you, Spencer. Now I’m sober, and boring, and in on a three-year-long dry spell.”  

“We’re more similar than you think, so you don’t have to be freaked out about our lack of shared experiences,” Spencer said softly as realization struck him. 

“You also got railed by college boys?” you quipped, and Spencer let out an unexpected laugh, his cheeks reddening.

“No, uhm, I meant being sober from drugs, and the dry spell too,” he clarified quickly.

As the conversation stilled, Spencer noticed he still had the book on Nobel Prize winners opened in his lap. He shut it quietly and placed it on the table, carefully looking at you as you sipped your tea. Your own book was long forgotten too, sliding down the side of your seat. You ran your fingers over your knees, still sitting cross-legged, nails rasping against your denim dungarees. You weren’t scared to look right back at him, not scared to be with him in silence for a moment. He watched as your eyes drifted to his book, struggling to read the title upside down.  

“What does an actual genius do for a living? And why can he spend so much time at a library in the middle of the night?” you asked, leaning forward with genuine curiosity, turning the book to see. 

“Do you want to guess?” he asked, not because he didn’t want to tell you, but because he sensed you were about to guess anyway. 

“You’re probably some sort of professor, teaching and researching something I couldn’t even begin to fathom,” you speculated, resting your chin on your hand, flipping through the pages. “You’re also away for like a week at a time and then back here for a week, so you must travel. Maybe you go to conventions and guest lectures. Have you ever done a TED talk?” 

You noticed his patterns. That he had noticed yours was no surprise. He noticed everyone’s. But you had noticed his, meaning that you cared enough to mind when he was at the library multiple nights a week and when he wasn’t. What did that tell Spencer? Absolutely nothing he could make sense of. 

“No, I haven’t. And I’m not a professor, though I have done a couple guest lectures,” he explained, waiting for you to continue guessing. 

“Do you work for some tech company then? Are you secretly a billionaire?” 

“Nope, I make a humble living compared to the work I put in.” 

“So, the public sector then,” you deduced at the same time as a bell could be heard. 

You quickly whipped your head around, straining to see the front desk, where an awfully stressed-out student could be found, holding some heavy book on human anatomy that Spencer knew had to be checked out manually. 

“Oh, fuck—” you muttered, quickly standing up, momentarily lost. “I should probably get back to work.” 

“Don’t forget your bag,” Spencer hurried to say before you could leave without it. The Kick Inside. Was that a reference to pregnancy? Maybe Spencer should look into Kate Bush to have another thing to talk to you about. 

You picked up your book and paper mug, slinging the bag over your shoulder, and gave him one last smile. “Do you know you have the face of a genius?” 

“W-what?” he questioned, unsure of why you’d said that. 

“It’s a lyric from a song on this album. It made me think of you,” you said, pointing to the bag, before walking away to the front desk to do what you were paid to do. 

–––––––––––––––––––––––

The next time Spencer talked to you was exactly two weeks and one day later. They’d been on a case in California, which naturally led to him not seeing you. But then when he was back, you weren’t working. He spent three days filling out reports at the office, waiting for time to go so that he could take the train home and go to the library, and when he showed up, you weren’t even there. 

Two weeks he planned what to say to you. The last three days of those felt like torture, not knowing where you were. On the fourth day, you were finally back. And Spencer wasn’t shy. And he could justify his reason for talking to you. Two weeks and one day ago, you had talked to him first. 

It was early December, and the first snow fell softly outside as he walked into the warmth of the library. He knew immediately that you were back working because you were the first thing he saw. Perched on a small stool near the front desk and the display shelf of seasonal books, you were stacking books into a makeshift Christmas tree. Carefully selected covers in colors of red and green were stacked into circles, narrowing as you built upward, creating somewhat of a tree shape.

You hummed softly as you worked, occasionally glancing down at the growing stack with concentration. As you reached for another book, you were stopped in your tracks by the telltale sound of footsteps against the library’s linoleum floor. Footsteps that could only be made by a pair of Converse. 

“I listened to The Kick Inside.” 

Looking over your shoulder, you found him standing there, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, a small smile on his face. Your hands paused mid-placement as you looked down at him, brows lifting in surprise. “You did?” 

“Creative use of resources, by the way,” Spencer mentioned, picking up a book from the pile and handing it to you, his long fingers brushing yours briefly in the exchange. “Did a song about incest really make you think of me?” 

“Oh, no. Just that singular lyric.” You laughed, shaking your head. “It’s inspired by some old English folklore, I think.” Balancing on the stool, you placed the book carefully onto the stack, leaning back to eye the structure.

“A murder ballad called Lizie Wan. Her brother got her pregnant, and then he killed her.” Spencer supplied, his tone instinctively slipping into lecture mode. He stepped closer and shed his coat to drape it over a nearby chair as he continued to hand you books. 

You made a face. “Well, did you like it? The album, I mean. Not the incest.” 

“I understand why youlike it. It’s very… you,” Spencer explained, hoping it made sense. It was theatrical and wacky. Feminine too, in a brutal way, only archivable in lyrics written by an adolescent girl. Spencer wasn’t a music lover by any means, but even he could hear that it was undeniably good, just not his taste. “Is Wuthering Heights perhaps your favorite classic novel?” 

“No, not at all. I think it’s a stupid book and a stupid song,” you said. 

Spencer handed you another book, his eyes darting between the growing tree and your face. The grin you put on betrayed your monotone voice. 

“Okay, no. I adore it,” you admitted. “It’s a nightmare to read, and I fully believe Emily was clinically insane, but I can’t help but love dark and twisted women. One review at the time when it was first published questioned how she could’ve finished writing it without committing suicide. That’s badass.” 

“Do you know that Kate hadn’t even read the book when she wrote the song? She just watched some TV adaptation, which is why the names are all messed up,” you continued as you perfectly balanced the book he gave you onto the others. You’d soon be done at this pace. 

“I did notice that she sang Cathy instead of Catherine, and Cathy is the daughter, right?” 

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “So if you know the book, the song totally reads like a love song between Heathcliff and his dead lover’s daughter.” 

“That’s disturbing,” Spencer concluded. “I can’t help but think that Brontë would’ve loved it.” 

Your lips twitched into a smile, but you didn’t comment further, too focused on your Christmas tree. He handed you another book in silence and saw how your nails were now painted red with little white snowflakes on some of them. He wondered if you painted them yourself. You were back to wearing your usual slacks and cardigan. This time a white one that looked terribly comfortable and wintery. In your hair you had a red ribbon tied into a bow, matching, as always, your red Converse. 

After a moment, you spoke. “You were gone for a while, again. Who in the public sector travels that much? I hope you’re not a politician.” 

“No, I’m not,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “I’m with the FBI. Behavioral Analysis Unit.” 

You blinked, looking down at him in mild shock. “You’re a profiler?”

He nodded.

“That actually makes a lot of sense. And it’s scary as hell. No wonder you’ve got insomnia, probably messed up from all the murders you’ve solved.” 

“I’m not making fun of you,” you added quickly. “I’ve obviously got it too; I wouldn’t be working the night shift voluntarily otherwise.”

Spencer handed you the final book for the top tier, his gaze steady on you. “You weren’t here for a couple of days either. I had to talk to Omar, and he’s not as good of a conversationalist.” 

You snorted. “Period cramps from hell,” you said casually, knowing it was the fastest way to end questions. 

Spencer also knew that it was a common lie told by women to men. And he wasn’t the kind of person to be grossed out by basic biology. He might have issues with pathogens and handshakes, but he had no issues talking about the human body. 

“Bold move to lie to a profiler,” he remarked, tilting his head slightly.

“I didn’t necessarily lie—” 

“But you didn’t tell me the whole truth.” 

He waited, silent and expectant.

You sighed, and for once your gaze was scared to meet his. “I’m kind of…depressed. Probably just seasonal, I fucking hate the winter. Spent three days on my living room floor, in some sort of verbal shutdown, just staring at the ceiling, wondering if I’m even human.”  

Spencer’s brows knit together, concern flickering across his face. “Do you feel better now?” 

“I’m here, aren’t I?” you said, forcing a small smile.

Before Spencer could respond, the precarious stack of books wobbled. You tried to steady it, but the entire top layer you’d just finished collapsed in a cascade of covers and pages, books tumbling to the floor in a loud crash. You stepped down from the stool quickly, and Spencer instinctively grabbed you by the hand so that you wouldn’t fall. He didn’t even have time to think about germs. 

“You’re legally allowed to shoot me in the head,” you said with a disbelieving sigh. 

“You can’t consent to murder,” Spencer replied, his tone matter-of-fact.

“But you can consent to bodily harm, right? So maybe you can shoot me in the foot at least?”

“That’s more reserved for sports and medical procedures. Shooting you would still be a crime even if you coerced me,” he explained. 

“Sadomasochism too, right? You can consent to sexually inflicted pain?” 

“Ehm—” Spencer mouth got dry, and his cheeks flushed red. “Well yes, technically.” 

“So you really can’t figure out a way for me to not have to work another day this year?” you asked, leaning down to pick up one of the fallen books.

Now, if Spencer was as socially smart as you were, he’d notice you were flirting. Maybe even insinuating that you’d be okay with a sexual injury that resulted in you staying home from work the rest of December. But Spencer was surprisingly dumb for having such a high IQ. And his ears sort of started ringing as soon as you mentioned sex, so he wasn’t sure he’d even heard you correctly. 

“Not if you need the money, no,” he replied, a small, apologetic smile playing on his lips.

“Some kind of genius you are, Spence,” you teased, shoving the book in his hands before crouching to start rebuilding the tree. 

–––––––––––––––––––––––

After that conversation, Spencer helped you rebuild the Christmas tree. He’d handed you book after book with a quiet determination, his brow furrowing slightly as if the arrangement were a problem he needed to solve. Occasionally, he would pause to ask you a question about your favorite winter-themed books or share an anecdote about an obscure author. All throughout December, Spencer became a constant presence during your night shifts.

You found him fascinating to listen to, even if he seemed to doubt himself midway through every tangent. His voice would falter, and he’d look up at you with a quick, “Is this boring?” or “Am I rambling?” as if he needed reassurance that you were still interested.

You always were. At this point, he could probably recite the yellow pages, and you’d still find it captivating. Knowing him and his eidetic memory, he most likely could do it on the spot if you asked him.

December always moved slowly for you. Students crammed into every corner, poring over their textbooks and laptops as they prepared for finals. The library was busy, but there was a strange liminal quality to your evenings, the dark winter nights stretching endlessly as you walked the halls, organizing books and straightening shelves.

You wouldn’t admit it to yourself just yet, but because of this heavy feeling, you found yourself sat at the front desk, waiting for Spencer to walk through those doors. You now knew that he was a busy man—a brilliant, busy man with a job more important than yours, so you stopped expecting him to show up, getting positively surprised every time he did instead. 

On the 23rd of December, Spencer walked through the entrance at exactly 9:32 p.m. You knew the time because you’d been watching the seconds tick by on the digital clock of the computer’s screensaver.

You straightened your back, softly smiling as he made his way up to you. Sometimes, you had to go on little treasure hunts to find him in the library, but today, he didn’t appear to be shy to approach you first.

With a soft thud he placed a heavy book on the counter, one you immediately recognized as War and Peace, in Russian. Your heart lifted slightly. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been waiting for the day the loan would expire, so that he either had to return it or extend it. 

“Have you finished comparing them now?” you asked, eyeing the book.

“No, uhm,” Spencer hesitated, adjusting the strap of his satchel. “Is it possible to extend it?” 

“I’ll have to check,” you replied, tapping at the keyboard. “It’s quite a popular book. A lot of Russian diplomats in D.C.”

You pretended to eye the screen, searching for whatever you were searching for, when you already knew that it wouldn’t be an issue to extend the loan. He didn’t have to know that, though. 

“Are you doing anything special for the holidays, Spencer?” you asked, to make it appear like small talk while you were tapping away at the keyboard, mindlessly clicking between pages of the software you used.  

“I might make it to Las Vegas to see my mom. I don’t know if I’ll have the time, though.” Spencer’s lips quirked in a small smile. “What about you? How will you celebrate Christmas?”

You knew by now that it was a dumb question to ask if he had a lot of work to do. He didn’t have a normal schedule, sometimes getting called in the middle of the night to fly across the country. 

“I’ll probably be here,” you admitted. “We’re closed for two days, and then over New Year’s, but otherwise I’ll be working. Might go see my dad if I have the time and he’s feeling up for it. Nothing major. Do you have plans for New Year’s, Spence?”

He opened his mouth to respond but paused, tilting his head slightly. “I, uh— Sorry, what’s that on the radio?”

You cocked your head, listening to the faint news broadcast filtering in from the staff break room that had caught his attention. You always had it on to not go insane from the silence. All afternoon it had been occupied with the same emergency broadcast. “Oh, you haven’t heard about it? I honestly thought you’d be working the case.”

“What case?” Spencer asked, his curiosity piqued.

“Some senator was kidnapped, and another one was shot. Apparently no one heard or saw a thing, but they can’t figure out how since the neighborhood has, like, crazy good security.” 

“Kidnapped in his own home?” 

“Mhm. I think they used the helipad, but Janice and Charlotte didn’t believe me.” You gestured toward the corner where the two older women usually sat knitting and reading romance novels. “Y’know, the regulars?”

“You think the kidnappers used a helicopter, without being heard or seen?” Spencer asked, a note of skepticism in his voice. “How would they even get access to a helicopter?” 

“If you know how to find and operate one, certain helicopters are easier to steal than cars. No locks in the way or keys needed,” you explained as if it were common knowledge. 

Usually, this was the point in a conversation where you would shut up, thinking that you’d crossed into boring territory. But by the look on Spencer’s face, he just wanted to hear more about it. 

“And if the security guards are all at the entrance to the gated community, I think you could go unnoticed. It’s close to the air force base, there are probably aircraft flying there on the daily.” You shrugged, a little self-conscious. “This job gives me a lot of free time to overthink things.” 

Spencer smiled in slight disbelief. “How do you know how to steal a helicopter?” 

“My dad was in the air force,” you explained. “From Fork Union to Master Sergeant. With today’s standards he’d probably be diagnosed with autism, but back when he was working, he was mostly just known as the guy who knew everything about every type of aircraft.” 

You scrunched your face at the thought of your dad. You adored him, you really did, but he hadn’t given you the easiest of childhoods. That meaning being stuck with your mother because he was away a lot for work. 

“What was that look for?” Spencer asked, because of course he realized stuff like that. 

“I have tried so hard all my life to not be like my mother that I unconsciously picked up my father’s personality instead,” you said with a self-deprecating laugh.

Spencer’s expression softened. “I despise my father, so I’m doing the opposite. Turning into my schizophrenic mother.” 

“My dad got sick too,” you said quietly. “That’s why he stopped working. And why my mother divorced him. He lives at a care facility by the coast now.” 

Before Spencer could respond, a buzzing noise came from his pocket. He pulled out his phone and glanced at the screen.

“Duty calling?” you asked. 

Spencer hesitated before nodding.

“I don’t think I can extend this, by the way,” you said, picking up the copy of War and Peace, placing it behind you on a shelf with other returned books. 

“That’s fine—” he began, but you cut him off.

“I do, however, have another solution,” you said, standing up from your chair to go into the staff room. With quick steps, you grabbed your tote bag, the one with the Kate Bush album on it, and walked back out. Spencer stared at you in confusion as you pulled out a book, not wrapped in paper or anything special, but there was a dark red ribbon tied into a bow around it. 

Spencer recognized it immediately as the same type of fabric you often wore in your hair.

“I have no one else to buy gifts for, so I thought I might as well. You won’t have to keep loaning it over and over again,” you said with a shy smile, handing it to him. 

Spencer stared at it, his hands hesitating before taking it. A Russian copy of War and Peace. A nice one too. Hardcover with gold leaf embossment. “Thank you…” he said softly. “I feel bad now. I don’t have anything to give to you.”

“You’ve made my night shifts a lot less depressing these last months,” you replied. “That’s enough of a gift to me, Spencer.”

He opened his mouth as if to argue but closed it again, nodding instead. “You know I’m not good with words,” he said after a pause, “or sometimes I think I might be too good with them. I say too much too quickly—”

“Do you wanna go on a date with me?” you interrupted, your voice steady but your heart pounding.

Spencer’s eyes widened. “A d-date?” 

“Y’know, we go somewhere, maybe get some food, and then we talk. And if it leads somewhere, it leads somewhere.” You hesitated, your confidence wavering. “If I misread this entirely, that’s fine. You don’t have to say yes. But I’d like to keep your company during my night shifts, if I haven’t ruined that completely now by admitting that I find you attractive.”

“No, no, uhm—” Spencer stammered, his cheeks now fully pink. “I’m not sure I’ve ever been asked out this directly before.” 

You held your breath as he gathered himself. 

“I’d love to go on a date with you.”

A grin broke across your face. “Good, so how about those New Year’s Eve plans?” 

–––––––––––––––––––––––

The D.C. police office buzzed with activity despite the late hour. Phones rang, officers rushed past with files in hand, and the muted hum of fluorescent lights filled the air. Spencer stepped into the building, his scarf still loosely draped around his neck and his cheeks slightly pink from the cold December air. From the side of his messenger bag, a red ribbon could be seen peeking out. 

“Spencer, where the hell have you been?” Morgan’s voice rang out from across the room. He strode toward Spencer, his brow furrowed with equal parts concern and frustration.

“At the library,” Spencer replied, unwinding his scarf as he spoke. His tone was calm, almost as if the answer were obvious. “I came as soon as I heard.” 

Morgan crossed his arms. “At ten at night?” 

Spencer hesitated for a fraction of a second, his gaze darting briefly to the floor before meeting Morgan’s eyes again. “There’s one open all hours of the day.” 

Morgan’s eyes narrowed slightly, but a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Why are you smiling like that?”

Spencer’s lips twitched as if suppressing the grin threatening to break through. “It’s nothing,” he said quickly, clearing his throat in an effort to sound composed.

Morgan tilted his head, his smirk growing wider. “Uh-huh. Sure it is. Library must’ve gotten a whole lot more interesting since the last time I was there.”

Spencer ignored the comment, shifting the conversation back to the matter at hand. “We should look into stolen helicopters in the area. I think that’s how they got in.” 

Morgan’s smirk faded as his professional demeanor returned. “Helicopters? That’s a hell of a theory. What makes you think that?”

Spencer adjusted the strap of his bag, his fingers fidgeting slightly. “The location of the kidnapping is close to an air force base. Certain small helicopters are relatively easy to steal—no locks or keys required. If the neighborhood security was focused on the main entrance, a helicopter could bypass them entirely. Given the proximity to the base, it’s plausible they used the airspace to their advantage.”

Morgan rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Alright, genius, I’ll get Garcia to pull up any reports of stolen aircraft in the area. Nice ribbon, by the way, really pulls your outfit together.”

–––––––––––––––––––––––

If December in general was slow for you, the holidays were fucking dreadful. Your dad had a cold and could not receive visitors, so you ended up spending Christmas Eve at a party—two hours sober between drunk friends, and then you had enough. Christmas Day was spent on your couch, watching all five hours of Bergman’s Fanny and Alexander, eating your body weight in Chinese takeout. 

You did get a postcard from your dad, a pretty coastal view on it that was of the beach he lived by. He also sent a pair of hand-knitted socks, a hobby you knew had been forced upon him by the older ladies he lived with at the care facility. His squiggly writing was harder and harder to decipher with every year that passed, but it still filled you with immense joy that his mind seemed to be bright even if his body wasn’t. 

From your mother you also got a postcard. A pretty coastal view was on it too, from Bali, where she was spending Christmas with her new partner. Hers wasn’t handwritten, instead only printed with a generic Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. No thought put behind it. 

You placed your father’s on the fridge, hung with a magnet you knew he’d gotten you when he was abroad for work in England. Your mother’s ended up being a perfect makeshift and temporary coaster on your living room table. Within days you had to throw it out because the paper had been ruined by tea stains. 

When you were back at work, the library was even quieter than normal, which honestly was to be expected. Janice came by to borrow some new romance novels to have over New Years. Some poor students had deadlines due first thing in January. But still, so calm you might even call it boring. And you loved this job. 

You sat at the front desk, flipping through a worn-out copy of a poetry collection by Patti Smith. You’d fallen down a hole of punk literature ever since you talked about JCC with Spencer. He didn’t seem like the kind to like said literature, but he had talked with you about it anyway. It was a tradeoff maybe, quid pro quo; he got to geek out about Tolstoy and Nobel Prize winners, and you got to talk about British bands and Vivienne Westwood. He’d actually really seemed to enjoy the irony of her bringing French 18th-century aristocracy into clothing worn by the most alternative and radical people in punk-era London.  

Deep down in thought, you barely heard when the entrance door opened. It was a gust of freezing cold wind that made you look up from your slouched position. In walked a man, obviously bothered by the weather, his sharp gaze sweeping across the room as he walked forward. He was followed by… 

“Spencer?” you wondered, standing. “You should be in Vegas.”

Spencer didn’t even have time to answer before his companion did. “Serial killers don’t care about the holidays, miss,” he said, his voice firm but not unkind. “SSA Derek Morgan.”

“You’re working the senator case, aren’t you?” you asked, narrowing your eyes slightly. “It’s turned into a serial case?” you rambled before shaking your head. “You probably can’t tell me the details anyway.”

Morgan gave a tight smile. “Not exactly.” He gestured toward Spencer. “We need your help with a quote. Spencer said you were the only person he could think of who might know it.”

“I didn’t say that—” Spencer tried to explain. 

“Don’t you have search engines and databases for things like that?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“We do, but nothing came up,” Spencer replied. “And I don’t recognize it for the life of me.” 

“Must suck to be a genius, Spence,” you chuckled. “What’s the quote?” 

Morgan pulled a photograph from his pocket and placed it on the counter. Written in bold, smeared letters that looked disturbingly like blood were the words: Whoever is strong must also be good. 

“Jeez, give a girl a warning,” you muttered, grimacing slightly as you studied the photo.

It answered your question about whether or not it had turned into a serial case, because this was a place where someone had been murdered, and it wasn’t some fancy senator mansion this time, but more what looked like an abandoned warehouse.

“Ehm… I honestly don’t know. I mean, it’s a very simple quote. I could come up with that.” You tilted your head thoughtfully. You weren’t sure why Spencer had thought of coming to you when faced with this problem. You knew of a bunch of books and quotes, sure, but you were honestly mostly known around your workplace as the one who knew all about children’s bo— 

“Oh, oh! It’s sort of similar to a quote from a children’s book, but very badly paraphrased in that case.” 

Morgan straightened. “Can you show us?” 

You were already walking out from behind your desk when he asked, making your way to the children’s section with quick steps. The two taller men following. “Ever heard of Pippi Longstocking?” you questioned over your shoulder as you walked. 

Morgan looked skeptical and Spencer for once, too, like he didn’t recognize the name at all. 

“I would assume that you had a more refined taste in literature as a child and did not waste your time with translated Swedish fairytales about the strongest girl in the world,” you added, finally reaching the right shelf, filled with thin books with bright yellow covers.

As you ducked down, you practically disappeared out of view for the two of them, squatting on the floor while picking out the right book. 

Spencer perked up, smiling gently. “My mother is a professor in 15th-century literature. She used to read to me a lot.” 

“That’ll do it,” you concluded, flipping through the pages. “We use it sometimes for kids’ reading hours, that’s why I recognize it. Popular with bilingual and immigrant children too since it’s been translated to over 70 languages.” 

Spencer knelt down beside you, reading over your shoulder. You knew he was a quick reader, but when you knew what you were looking for, you were quicker. 

“Here!” you pointed out on a page, disturbed by the look of your chipped red nail polish. “The quote in English is ’If you are very strong, you must also be very kind’.” 

“That’s oddly similar,” Spencer agreed. 

“It might be translated. I can look into our non-English books.” 

You didn’t even wait for an answer before you started walking again, forcing Spencer and Morgan to follow suit. Down a corridor of shelves with children’s books, around a corner, to a new shelf, and then you ducked down on the floor, quickly scanning the spines. It was all children’s books divided into different languages. You picked whatever yellow spine you could see, collecting them in your arms before you sat down right on the floor. You knew the cleaning lady, she was great at her job. 

“The story is from the 1940s but still relevant. Pippi is an orphan living in a big yellow house with her horse and monkey, and has to fight with adults and authorities, saying that she can’t survive on her own. Honestly quite progressive,” you explained as you gave Spencer a copy in Russian, trying to hand a different one to Morgan before realizing that not all agents had the skills of Dr. Spencer Reid. 

“How’d she get the house?” Morgan asked, crossing his arms.

“Her dad is a sea captain and a king over some fictive island. She’s rich,” you replied matter-of-factly.

As you sat there on the floor, books spread around you, searching and comparing to the English version, talking about the pure feminism and boldness of a female author creating such a character during that time period, Spencer found you fascinating. Like a dancer, you had moved through the rows of shelves, with a grace and a crazy smile, firing you up. 

He had sensed it as soon as the unit stumbled upon the issue with finding the quote, that if someone was going to know this simple, moral-of-the-story quote to feed down the throats of children, it’d be you. 

“I don’t think it’s Russian,” Spencer said after finding the right page. ‘Kind’ didn’t turn into ‘good’ like it had in whatever way the unsub had paraphrased it. 

Morgan gave Spencer a sidelong glance. “Do you even need me here for this conversation?”

You ignored the comment, pulling out a book and flipping through its pages. “The missing senator has a German surname, right?”

Both Spencer and Morgan turned to you with confused faces. 

You shrugged. “I watch the news, okay? I’m alone here all night!”

With the German version in your hand, you scanned the pages for the quote. “Oh, look! My high school German might finally be paying off.” You read aloud, “‘Wer stark ist, muss auch gut sein.’”

You stood up and showed the book to Spencer, pointing to the quote. “‘Kind’ turns into ‘gut’, which can translate back to ‘good’,” you explained, even if you felt like he probably didn’t need it. Morgan might’ve found it useful at least. “Whoever is strong must also be good, right? That make sense?”

Morgan leaned against the shelf, rubbing his chin. “So, the quote is from a Swedish children’s book, translated into German, and then badly paraphrased into English? What do we do with that?”

You shrugged, closing the book. “I just know what it says. I don’t know what it means.” 

Spencer paced as he thought out loud. “The unsub has to be a woman.” 

 “Who speaks German?” Morgan added, mostly out of confusion. 

“And she most likely identifies with the abandonment issues of the girl in the book, and having to be independent at a young age,” Spencer added, a light in his eyes shone like the stereotypical picture of a lightbulb turning on when an idea was formed.  

Morgan glanced at Spencer. “Reid, didn’t the senator have a daughter?” 

You watched them as they spoke, unsure if this was even new information to them or something they were reciting to jog their own memories of the case. 

“So, wait, was I helpful?” you asked a little self-consciously, looking around, seeing the mess of bright yellow children's books on the floor. 

Spencer nodded, his excitement bubbling over. “Yes, yes, your brain is unbelievable! Thank you so much.” Without thinking, he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around you in a brief but firm hug. You felt him stiffen slightly, his germaphobe instincts clearly battling his enthusiasm, but he didn’t pull away immediately. You knew he didn’t do handshakes, so the thought of him hugging you felt even more abnormal. His voice was soft as he added, “I mean it.”

Before you could respond, Morgan cleared his throat, a teasing grin on his face. “Alright, Romeo, we’ve got to get moving.”

Spencer stepped back quickly, fumbling with his feet. “Right, of course.”

You hesitated, looking up at Spencer’s flushed face, before softly hurrying to ask, “Are our plans for New Year’s Eve still on?” 

He grinned, walking away. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world!” 

–––––––––––––––––––––––

Spencer did miss it. Or in thirty-two minutes he would. He watched the clock on the wall in his hospital room with an anxious feeling. The fragments from a bullet had just been removed from his arm, and yet his biggest worry wasn’t the lingering ache in his arm—it was you.

“Your first date with her was supposed to be in a park at midnight? Do you realize how creepy that sounds?” Prentiss’s voice broke through his thoughts as Morgan had just explained why the first word they heard from Spencer as they had been allowed to enter his hospital room was your name. 

“Could you stop yelling at me while I’m literally in a hospital bed?” Spencer shot back. He wasn’t one to complain, and he could hear the humor in her voice, but if he were to complain, now wouldn’t be an awful time. 

Morgan leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, an amused smile playing on his lips. “They’re both insomniacs and were going to watch the fireworks. It’s sort of sweet.”

They hadn’t been able to just get the unsub when they figured out who it was. It had taken them days to plan their attack, knowing that the daughter would kill her father if they ambushed the place. A senator being killed because they had rushed their strategy wasn’t a defense that would hold up in any internal investigation. 

So they waited and waited, mapping out the place where he had been taken, trying to get the daughter to leave. But she persisted, and an ambush was in the end the best choice anyway. Spencer hadn’t been shot directly. The daughter’s boyfriend had fired a shot, landing in the wall behind him, which left fragments flying all over. Some grazing his right arm, leaving it now fully bandaged. He’d also managed to hit his head on a beam while being lead out of the building afterwards, so he had three stitches on his forehead and blood in his hair. 

It wasn’t as dramatic as it sounded. He’d been through worse. Which was why he now felt restless in the hospital bed, just waiting to be discharged. He wouldn’t make it in time to see you anyway, but maybe he could at least call you and tell you what had happened so that you didn’t wait outside in the cold for him. 

He didn’t even have his phone on him, now that he thought of it. Or your number. 

Restless and impossible, the situation was. 

He had Prentiss, Morgan, Rossi, and Garcia all in his room. Just restlessly waiting too. Hotch was somewhere talking to a nurse about getting him out of here. Garcia was anxiously knitting. Rossi was half asleep while standing. Prentiss and Morgan were bickering about whether or not his date plans were cute or creepy. There was a radio in his room playing some sort of New Year’s program, almost taunting him by mentioning how time was closing up on the clock striking midnight. Some sort of reverse Cinderella, that was what he felt like. 

With a slow knock on the doorframe, Hotch announced that he was back. “They don’t know when they can release you, and, uhm…” he began, poised as usual, though he was fighting a smile. “Look who I stumbled upon in the reception,” he continued, stepping aside as you appeared in the doorway.

It was probably all over the news that the senator case had been solved and that officers and agents had been harmed in the process. And you listened to the news, like religiously. 

“You got shot…” you whispered, your voice trailing off as you took in the sight of him, pale but upright in the hospital bed.

“Oh, oh, is this her?” Prentiss asked as the entire unit watched as you entered the room.

They already knew your name. Now they knew what you looked like too. 

You were all done up. Date ready. For Spencer. You had on a black coat, covered in little snowflakes from being outside, but underneath he could spot a dress that sparkled like diamonds. You had red ribbons in your hair like usual and your Converse, squeaking from being wet against the hospital floors. No tights, and while Spencer worried you might be cold, he also knew from Garcia that you just couldn’t wear tights with certain dresses. 

“You’re gorgeous,” Garcia said, practically swooning. She nudged Spencer playfully. “Spencer, she’s gorgeous.”

Rossi stepped forward, clapping a hand on Garcia’s shoulder. “Maybe we should give them some time alone.”

Hotch, ever the professional and hopeless romantic, nodded. “We’ll be down the hall if you need anything, Reid.”

“Or pressed up against the door to eavesdrop,” Garcia added, earning a pointed look from Hotch as they all filed out, leaving you and Spencer alone.

The door shut with a click behind you as you stood flat on your feet in the middle of the room. You looked almost scared to move. 

“We were supposed to go on a date, and you got shot, Spencer.” 

The words left your mouth in nothing but shock. You didn’t even have time to be embarrassed over his colleagues being there and almost making fun of the situation because all you had in your head was the ringing sound of a gun firing and Spencer being the target. 

“I’m okay, I promise,” he reassured gently, reaching out his unharmed arm to you. 

You tentatively moved forward, almost in an inspective manner, seeing where he was hurt and not. With his hand reached out in your direction, you assumed he was fine with you touching it. You grabbed it gently, and Spencer spotted that your nails were just as sparkly as your dress. 

“You. Got. Shot.” You emphasized every word, scooting to sit on the side of his bed. “Like a bullet penetrating your skin kind of shot. That’s insane.” 

“It didn’t actually penetrate the skin, more like grazed me with fragments after it hit the wall behind me,” Spencer tried to explain. The bandage looked dramatic but all that was under it were scratches, basically. 

“But still—” you began, but he cut you off.

“You look very pretty.” 

You blinked, momentarily thrown off. “Don’t change the subject.” 

“But you do. I like you in red,” he insisted, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“I always wear red,” you pointed out.

“And I guess I always like you then,” he replied simply. 

You tilted your head, a teasing grin forming. “Did they give you something strong for the pain? What kind of smooth talking is this?” 

“I, uh— I got nothing for the pain, y’know—” He gestured vaguely.

“Drugs and that?” you filled in. 

“Yeah.” 

You didn’t press further. He figured you understood. Not that you had talked about it more than briefly. But you were sober, and he was sober, and breaking a sober streak even in a hospital setting was nothing easy. The pain from the fragments being removed was only temporary. The aftermath of any sort of prescription painkiller was a long-term thing for people like him. And maybe you. 

In silence, Spencer moved to the side of the bed, a way of notifying you that you could come sit higher up beside him. He hadn’t let go of your hand since you grabbed his, and when you scooted to sit so that your right arm touched his left one, he felt himself tense up at the closeness. While you still had your coat on, it was like a fire spread through it to his hospital gown and in turn his skin. 

You toed off your shoes, kicking them on the floor, as you lifted your legs to place them alongside his. “So, was it the daughter? Did she shoot you?” you asked, turning to look at him with wonder in your eyes. 

“Her boyfriend did. Helicopter pilot, by the way,” Spencer answered, gaze stuck on how your hand held his, perched in his lap over a thin blanket. 

Your eyebrows shot up. “No fucking way. I was right?” 

“You’re smarter than you realize,” he replied, his tone earnest.

You looked like a child on Christmas with the way happiness spread across your face. A happiness of being right, not over the situation. That was a given.

“It was the same old tale about a rich man abandoning his child and them later seeking financial compensation for it, thinking they’re entitled to their parents wealth after they’ve practically been left to live on the streets,” Spencer explained. Journalists would’ve figured out the motive as soon as it was public that is was the daughter, so he didn’t think he was breaking any protocol by telling you. 

“And those are the good kind of senators,” you quipped, earning a small laugh from Spencer. You could see that his tired body didn’t react particularly well to the sudden vibration in his chest. 

Your hand dropped his, only momentarily to soothingly caress his chest. He moved to hold yours again, keeping his held against his ticking heartbeat. You were so close. 

The second he could think that, you whipped your head around at the sound of a thud. It was outside, a flashing light coming through the window. 

“Oh my god, you can see the fireworks from here too,” you whispered, jaw dropped. 

Spencer turned his head, following your gaze. Bright colors lit up the night sky, faint booms audible even through the thick hospital walls. Both hands on the clock were on twelve. 

“It’s also a lot warmer in here than the park would’ve been,” Spencer mused, squeezing your hand in his. 

He could almost feel you relax as you watched the colorful explosions go off in the night sky. You leaned into his side, the side of your face carefully placed on his shoulder. In this cold, sterile hospital room, you filled him with tepidity. He glanced down at your face; cute was the only word that came to mind. The subjective Spencer-esque way of defining it. You had silver glitter on your eyelids that twinkled whenever you blinked. Your lips had been glossy but were now mostly bitten raw from being anxious. 

Spencer could only think of one thing as he took you in. 

“Would you mind me becoming part of your microbiome?” he whispered. 

You blinked, startled by the question, looking right up at him. He hadn’t even wanted to shake your hand when he introduced himself that first time. But kissing was, according to him, more sanitary anyway. You hadn’t been nervous for a kiss since you were in high school, yet this paralyzed you. It was terrifying, looking at him, feeling an invisible force pulling you towards him, towards his face, towards his lips. 

“W-what if some bacteria from Cody Parker becomes a part of you now?” you joked, buying time to collect yourself.  

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” he replied easily, his face now dangerously close to yours. 

Your breath caught as he closed the distance, his lips meeting yours. You were both tentative at first, his hand still holding yours clasped over his chest. With your other hand, you pushed his hair from the side of his face, cradling his cheek as you deepened the kiss, touch by touch. 

Spencer had never had a New Year’s kiss before. He wasn’t sure this was considered one either. The clock was probably 12:07 if he were to estimate. 

From the hallway, Garcia’s voice could be heard through the door. “Oh my god, he kissed her.”

“Shut up, Garcia, I’m trying to see,” Prentiss whispered harshly.

You pulled back, laughter bubbling up as Spencer’s cheeks flushed deep red. Despite his embarrassment, a shy smile lingered on his face. The fireworks outside continued, unnoticed by the two of you, as you leaned in to kiss him again. 

–––––––––––––––––––––––

The apartment was quiet as you stepped inside, the muffled hum of the city beyond the windows the only sound accompanying your footsteps. Spencer moved carefully, his movements stiff and hesitant from the pain radiating from his arm. Two pairs of Converse stood on his doormat. One pair of simple black ones. Another pair of smaller, red ones. 

“You need to shower, Spencer. There’s coagulated blood in your hair,” you said, setting his bag down on the floor before reaching up to tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear, it all sticking together in a knot. 

He groaned softly, glancing toward the bathroom, then at the inviting sight of his bed just a little bit further down the hallway. “When I, for once, feel like I could fall asleep just looking at a bed?” 

You crossed your arms, giving him a pointed look. 

“No, you’re right. I just—” He hesitated. “How am I going to do it with this on my arm?” 

“I’ll help you,” you offered immediately, then Spencer could see the realization hit you. “O-or maybe we can call Morgan, or someone else that you trust—”

His face twisted in mock horror. “I’d rather die than have Morgan wash my hair.” 

“I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” 

“I’ll be fine,” he said, firmer than intended. 

“You don’t have to pretend around me.” Your expression softened. “When was the last time you were naked in front of someone?” 

His eyes widened, and he stammered. “Ehm, I—” 

“Never?” you asked, far from in the teasing manner he was used to. 

“Do doctors count?” he muttered, his face flushed.

“Okay,” you said, putting your hands together, stepping back slightly. “We’ll work around this to make you comfortable. Do you have swim shorts?” 

“Yeah, that could work.” 

Spencer retreated into his bedroom while he saw you go into the bathroom. It wasn’t easy for him to get out of his clothes and into the shorts, but he managed in the end. He spotted himself in his full-length mirror just as he was about to exit the bedroom. Tall and scrawny. Bandaged all over his right arm. Dressed in light blue shorts with flamingoes on them that Garcia had gotten him, as a joke he thought or she could have been completely serious. You never knew. 

This was about to be the closest he’d been to another person while wearing so little clothing. And that was terrifying. No other word for it. It didn’t matter that you had kissed. Twice at the hospital. Once in the taxi home. Another small one as you helped him unlock his front door. Still terrifying. 

It wouldn’t get easier the longer he waited, so he stepped out of his bedroom, too self-conscious to look at you, already rambling before you even noticed him.  

“Don’t laugh, Garcia bought them for me when we had a case in Florida—”  

“They’re cute,” you simply said, sat on the edge of his bathtub. 

When he lifted his gaze to see you, you’d also changed. Or maybe undressed was a better word. Your dress was gone, and left were a pair of spandex shorts he imagined you had on under for comfort and warmth, maybe? And your bra. A simple black bra. 

“You—” Spencer couldn’t form a sentence. 

“I thought I’d make it even,” you shrugged, standing up. “Can you get in the tub without hurting yourself further?” 

Spencer pressed his lips together to keep his posture. He nodded, as he at least though he’d be able to sit down on his own. But no. His balance betrayed him as he had both feet down on the porcelain, trying to lower himself down into a cross-legged position. 

You were there within seconds, your hands trying to help him from falling. With an ungracious thud, he was sat down. 

You sat halfway on the edge of the tub, turning the water on, waiting for it to get warm. As you did, you reached to comb through his hair with your fingers, but he stopped you before you got the chance. 

“Just wait,” he said quickly, putting his hands up so that you couldn’t touch him. “For a second, will you?” 

“Cause you’ll pop a boner if I touch you now?” you teased, shockingly how easy dirty words fell from your mouth. 

A baffled laugh escaped him. “You’re so…” 

“Rude?” 

“Honest,” he replied. “I’ve been having a hard time keeping it together since you kissed me.” 

“Nuh-uh, you kissed me,” you shot back with a grin. “You’re a good kisser, by the way.” 

Spencer didn’t say another word as you started to wash his hair. Feeling slightly pathetic, he sat there in the bathtub, water falling from his head like a wet dog. He didn’t know how to make the situation less awkward, so he just accepted the way it was. 

At least it was comfortable, having your fingers untangle his hair and massage his scalp with shampoo. When you were done, you helped him stand up, handing him a towel, but not before quite obviously eyeing his body up and down. 

“You’ve turned pink all the way to your stomach,” you pointed out, and before Spencer could react, you added, “Don’t worry, it’s hot,” like that would make it any easier for him to process. 

Later, Spencer was sitting on the edge of his bed, his damp curls sticking to his forehead as you helped him dry his hair. You moved gently, careful not to jostle his injured arm. 

He’d been able to change into a t-shirt and pajama pants on his own, with you trying to hold in your laughter from the other side of his bedroom door when he would stumble and hit his shin on his bed frame due to the lack of balance he had with only one working arm. 

“I can sleep here, right?” you said, tossing the towel into his hamper of dirty laundry. “It’s like 3 a.m. and I totally get if you wanna throw me out—” 

“I want you to sleep here,” he said softly, looking up at you. “With me.” 

No words left your mouth, but the smile that cracked through was unmistakable. He gave you a t-shirt to sleep in, something with an old college logo on it, and then he watched as you swiftly removed your bra from underneath it, like magic. 

He settled under the covers, making room for you on the side where he didn’t have his injured arm. Spencer hadn’t shared a bed like this with anyone before, so to say he was surprised when you laid beside him, snuggling into his side like you’d done it a million times before, would be an understatement. 

“Am I hurting you?” you mumbled, your head resting in the crook of his neck. 

“No, not at all,” Spencer squeaked out, trying to find a natural spot for his hand under your body. 

As you took in his room, your gaze landed on his nightstand, and your breath caught. Sitting neatly on the surface were three copies of War and Peace. One was pristine, the Russian copy you’d gifted him. Beside it was a well-worn English version, its pages annotated and creased. And then there was… another Russian copy, similarly worn and filled with notes.

Your hand rested lightly on his chest as you began to laugh. “You—” you started, glancing up at him with a soft smile. “You only loaned it from the library to talk to me.”

Spencer’s gaze flickered between you and the nightstand as he realized that you had realized. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered with a smile. 

You chuckled a little, reaching up to kiss his cheek before relaxing back down again. He’d been so tired before, as were you. But now it was like he could feel every nerve in his body, running through him like electricity. Just because you were here with him. 

“Is it—” Spencer whispered, unsure where his words would lead him. “Is it weird to sleep in the same bed as someone without having experienced the sexual aspect that is usually the reason couples share a bed for the first time?”  

Shit, he’d called you a couple. Maybe not directly, but definitely indirectly— 

“No, not at all,” you hummed against him. “Do you think it’s weird?” 

“I haven’t exactly done this before, so everything feels new and weird.” 

You looked up at him through heavy lashes, makeup-free and squeaky clean. “Most men that I’ve been with never made me feel like a woman—like a ladylike presence they cherished. I’d sleep with them too quickly and they’d get bored, or I wouldn’t put up with it, and they’d call me a prude.” 

Your voice sounded fragile in a way he’d never heard before. He’d picked up on little things where he assumed you weren’t exactly inexperienced, but the fact that experience could be something bad wasn’t necessarily something he’d thought about before. 

“Whatever this is, whatever weird order we are doing stuff in, feels better than anything I’ve ever felt before when it comes to love,” you continued, stuffing your face back in his neck to hide. 

Shit, you’d said the word love. Not even indirectly, like fully pronounced it, no mumbles. 

“It’s not a dry spell if you’ve never done it, by the way,” you joked, and he melted at the sound even though you were trying to embarrass him. “You’ve never gotten it wet for it to become dry.” 

Spencer stared up at the ceiling, biting his lip. “Can you not make fun of me?” 

“I’ve used sex as a coping mechanism all my life, allow me to be a little amused about someone going over 25 years without it.” You gently laughed again. “It’s sort of sweet.” 

On the side of your body, you found his unarmed arm placed all limp. With a bold move, you intertwined your fingers with his, taking both of them up to place against your chest. He was now embracing you, and he couldn’t even begin to think about the soft, ample flesh that could be found under your t-shirt. 

He let out a faint groan, mumbling, “You’re not making it any better.” 

Your expression softened further as you tilted your head, meeting his eyes. “We’ll get to it,” you said, your voice low and steady, “when or if we both feel like it. Don’t stress about it, okay? I don’t care.”

Spencer swallowed, his eyes darting to yours before quickly flickering away. His voice came out quiet, uncertain. “That’s something—” He hesitated, his brows furrowing as he searched for the words. “Is that something you’d want to do with me?”

You smiled, kissing his cheek again. “You just indirectly called us a couple, and I mentioned the word love, so don’t act clueless. I know you’re not.”  

His face turned a deeper shade of pink, and he ducked his head, letting it rest on his pillow as the ceiling yet again became very interesting. The silence stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt warm. He felt at home in your presence, no matter how foreign it was. His hand was still grasping yours, tucked against your chest. He could feel you fiddling with his fingers. 

“Can’t sleep?” Spencer asked after a long moment of silence. 

“I like ’em,” you murmured, lifting his hand to kiss his knuckles. 

“My hands?” he wondered tiredly. 

“I like everything about you,” you answered simply before closing your eyes. 

Can we all pretend I posted this on New Years? Yes? Thank you. And thank you for reading. Title and beginning quote is from Purple by Wunderhorse btw <3

[smutstevington]

Resensitized | Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: You need a place to move in, and your new friend has a spare room. Turns out, he's a porn star, and now you can't stop thinking about him. What ever will you do?

Part 2 here and part 3 here :)

Word Count: 7.6K

Warnings: MINORS DNI PLEASE KEEP SCROLLING, smut, Pornstar!Eddie x fem reader (no defining characteristics or use of y/n), modern day, friends to lovers...kind of? Fingering, oral (fem receiving), protected p in v, the knee thing™️, Eddie is a soft dom but also a simp, reader is his exception, and they were roommates(!)

A/N: I'm baaaaack! I was randomly inspired by this concept and couldn't stop thinking about it until it was done. Please know I wrote this with as much respect to sex work as I could, but there might be some inaccuracies just because I'm not too familiar with the industry nowadays. Until next time! xx

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

You met Eddie at a party. He was a friend of a friend’s plus one, so he didn’t really know anybody, and you noticed nobody was talking to him, so you went over there and struck up a conversation.

Eddie was sweet. Eddie was goofy. Eddie was a little rough around the edges, but ultimately gave you good vibes. You ended up talking to him for quite a while, and when the night came to an end, you realized you didn’t want to stop talking to him. 

It wasn’t, like, a crush thing - although, he was handsome and definitely crush material - it was more that it was hard making friends as an adult, and you liked being around him. So many times, you’d met people and left them just as fast, and you didn’t want that to happen with Eddie.

You gave him your Instagram, which he followed, and then you requested to follow him back, which he accepted. 

You didn’t talk much for a month or two. He didn’t really post anything, but would comment or react to your posts and stories. Most often, you complained about your living situation - your landlord and your roommates were awful, and eventually your lease came to an end. You jokingly posted - “who’s gonna help me find a new apartment?”

Eddie replied - I don’t know if you’d be interested, but I might be able to help.

It turned out that Eddie had a room vacant in his two-bedroom apartment. The idea seemed kind of out there at first, but you realized it wasn’t much different than searching for roommates online. Besides, this was safer, since you knew Eddie already, and you couldn’t afford an apartment by yourself, so…

You went over to look at his place, and holy shit. It was incredible there. Clean, although slightly cluttered with his various belongings - movie posters, music, video games, and the like. Also, the rent he was asking for was absurdly low. It felt like a no-brainer.

“Eddie, this is - I mean, this is perfect,” you told him. He grinned. 

“Okay,” he said with a nod. “Uhh, there’s just one thing I feel like I should tell you before you move in.”

“What is it?” you asked. Suddenly, you saw Eddie get nervous, and you couldn’t possibly predict what would warrant that reaction. He took a deep breath. 

“Maybe you already know, but it feels like you don’t know? So I just - ugh. If you don’t know, I think I gotta tell you.” You stared at him, confused.

“Eddie, I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.”

He smirked slightly, then sighed as his hands fell to his sides.

“I…do…porn?” he said at last. You stared at him blankly as you processed this.

“I’m gonna need you to elaborate,” you replied. “Like OnlyFans?”

“Sometimes,” he answered. “Look, I - I’ve done it for a few years, and I guess I’m kinda popular. It’s why a lot of the time, people stay away from me, because it puts them off. Or, they’re embarrassed about recognizing me, which I guess I understand. But anyway, that’s why I was surprised you never said anything or asked me about it. Judging by your reaction, I’m guessing you had no idea.” 

Huh.

“I…really didn’t.” 

It wasn’t that you were judging him - not at all - but living with someone who did that sort of thing brought up all kinds of questions. Eddie’s anxiety returned. 

“Ah, shit. That ruined everything, didn’t it?” He ran his hands through his hair. “I just - It’s how I make money, but it’s not my whole life or anything. But I felt like you should at least know about it if you were gonna live with me.”

“Do you do any of it here?” you asked. Eddie shrugged.

“Sometimes.”

You nodded slowly.

“Like, in the living room or just your room?” His eyes narrowed as he tried to assess how you felt through your line of questioning.

“Uhh - my room. I mean, I guess there was one time on the couch, but for the record I’ve gotten a new couch since then. Oh, and if you move in and don’t want me filming anything here, I won’t. Not even solo stuff. Shit. Sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, I just have a pretty casual view on sex and I kind of forget that not everybody -”

“I think I’m okay with this,” you decided. 

“Really?”

“Yeah.” You looked around the beautiful apartment that would save you a crap ton of money, and you realized you couldn't pass this up. Besides, you weren’t a prude. “My last roommates had loud sex all the time, and our walls were so thin it felt like I was intruding, somehow.” Eddie laughed, his anxiety easing slightly. “Plus, I don’t care what you do. I bet it’s good money. As long as I’m not in any of the videos, we’re good to go.”

“Wow,” he responded, stunned. “I honestly didn’t expect you to be so cool about it.” You shrugged.

“Just don’t eat my food and we should be fine,” you concluded. 

“Deal,” he replied. You shook his hand, and thus began your time as Eddie Munson’s roommate.

-

Ohhhh, this was a mistake.

Living with Eddie was a total breeze for the first two months. He was respectful and didn’t talk about work at all unless you asked him about it, which you didn’t. You both were pretty busy people so you didn’t even see each other that often. 

But then, two months in, you got curious and watched one of his videos.

Holy. Shit.

First of all, you couldn’t believe you’d never stumbled across him before in your searches, because he was, like, really popular. He’d undersold himself, for sure. Although, you didn’t watch porn that often (you preferred reading it or listening to it), because usually there was something off about it. Like, the women felt like they were acting, or they weren’t even trying to hide that they were acting and were really bad at it, or the dirty talk was weird, etc etc. 

Eddie’s videos were not like that. 

(Yeah, after the first one you watched a few more).

Look, the man knew what he was doing. He had chemistry with everyone, and something about it was captivating. It’s not like you were getting off to them - that would have been weird - but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you the fuck on.

He hadn’t been lying either about the locations. None of the videos you’d watched were recorded at the apartment. 

You weren’t sure if you would have cared if they had been, though. Like, as long as any shared furniture was cleaned after, it wasn’t a huge deal, right? Pretty much every couch anywhere you go has been used for sex at some point. So, this wasn’t much different.

Anyway, watching Eddie’s videos had been a mistake, because now when you saw him in the morning, pouring himself a cup of coffee in his robe, you knew what he looked like naked.

Fuck.

“Morning,” he said casually. “Want some?” You nodded, and then he took another mug from the cupboard and poured coffee into it for you. When you went to the kitchen counter to grab it from him, his knuckles brushed yours, and you jumped a little at the touch. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice. You went to the fridge and took the creamer from the shelf, then topped off your coffee with it. 

“How’d you sleep?” you asked. 

“Good,” he replied. “Oh, so I’m going to the grocery store in a bit. You need anything?” You took a sip of your coffee before answering. 

“Uhhh, yeah, but I was actually planning on going myself,” you said. 

“We could go together,” he suggested.

You took another sip of coffee as a way to stall, even though it was too hot. You had no reason from his perspective to say no - the two of you had gone on errands together a few times, and it had been fine. Besides, you legitimately had to go to the grocery store, so if you said no and went later it would just look suspicious.

”Sounds good,” you agreed with a smile. He smiled back, then nodded. 

“Great, just let me know when you’re ready.”

You finished your coffee in your room, because being around him was making you nervous. It was so dumb, feeling this way. Nothing had changed. You were the same people you’d been yesterday. Watching that video was an incredibly poor choice, but at the same time, how were you supposed to refrain? You lived with a guy who was famous for getting women off. You wondered how you hadn’t known any of this when you’d first met him, but then pieces came together. The reason he was alone at the party. Why his Instagram was private. Why he didn’t have a roommate. 

When you agreed to move in, you promised yourself you wouldn’t be weird about it, and now here you were, hiding in your room because you were too awkward to maintain small talk with your roommate. 

Eventually, you got dressed and psyched yourself up for what was to come. You just had to get those videos out of your mind, that’s all. 

Easy enough, right?

Wrong!

“Did you listen to the song I sent you yesterday?” he asked as you walked to the car.

“Uh, no, not yet,” you replied. He clutched his heart as if you had broken it, then laughed.

“Okay, well then I guess I know what we’re listening to on the way.”

Once again, all of this should have been easy like it always was. But you couldn’t stop staring at his hands on the steering wheel, the rings on his fingers, and - God forbid - his lips. And his eyes? Forget it. 

“Good song,” you said, staring straight ahead at the road.

“Of course it is, I picked it out,” he teased. You saw him glance at you in your peripheral vision. “Everything okay? You’re quiet today.”

“Everything’s fine,” you blurted out, maybe too quickly to be convincing. 

“Ooookay,” he responded. “Well, I don’t believe you, but you can keep your secrets.”

You remained slightly awkward and flustered around him, particularly any time he touched you. He’d tap you on the shoulder to get your attention, or reach across you to grab a bunch of bananas that you were standing in front of, and it came to a point where you told him you had to go off on your own to grab something just because you knew you were totally giving yourself away. But after a few more minutes to yourself in the chips aisle, you felt relatively normal again. 

Disaster only really struck on the way home. 

“So, this tattoo place on the right,” he said. “That’s where I usually go. The guy who works there is incredible. His designs are sick as hell.”

“How many do you have?” you asked. He scrunched his eyebrows as he thought about it.

“I guess it depends on what you’d count as one,” he replied. “Like, I have almost a half-sleeve on my right arm, but I didn’t get it all done at once.”

“Count them however you’d like.” He thought about it some more, then shrugged. 

“I have a lot of them, and I always want more.” 

“I’ve heard it’s addictive,” you replied. “So, what would you get next?”

“I’m thinking about adding to the one on my thigh,” he answered. 

“The witch?” you asked. He raised his eyebrows. The tattoo on his thigh was pretty iconic, actually. It was a woman on a broomstick with her tits out. Not something you would ever personally get, but Eddie pulled it off. “Are you going to give her a friend? Or a bra?”

Eddie snorted laughing, then covered his mouth in an attempt to stifle it. It didn’t work, and he burst into laughter again.

“Come on, my joke wasn’t that funny,” you said, rolling your eyes. Eddie’s laughter finally faded enough for him to explain. 

“I never told you what the tattoo was,” he informed you. Your eyes widened as you realized your mistake.

“I - um -”

“That’s what’s going on! You looked me up!” he exclaimed. Despite your absolute humiliation, he seemed to only find it amusing. “Don’t get all shy about it. It’s fine. I’m honestly impressed you held out this long.”

“Can we not talk about it?” you asked, trying to awkwardly laugh with him but mostly wishing you were six feet underground. 

“Whatever you want, roomie,” he replied with a grin. “I’m just glad I didn’t do anything wrong.” You bit your lip, then released it.

“No, you did pretty much everything exactly right,” you responded, deciding to lean into the awkward situation. Eddie licked his lips and smirked. 

“Good to hear,” he said, smug. He pulled into your apartment complex, parked the car, and took the keys from the ignition. You felt like you couldn’t breathe in there, so you rushed out of the car and made a beeline for your front door as soon as you were able. He caught up as you worked the lock open, and you could feel his eyes on your shaking hands. “You know, you’re cute when you blush,” he said.

The door unlocked and you pushed it open, but it’s not like the apartment you shared with him was going to be any less charged. You tried to continue acting less nervous than you were. 

“Oh, you’re flirting with me now?” you teased, leaving your keys on the counter. His voice continued behind you.

“I flirt with everyone,” he said. “Sorry, I’ll reel it in. Just, we were talking about -”

“No, I know,” you interrupted. You turned around, deciding to face this situation head on, since you were already knee-deep in it anyway. “Okay, let’s talk about it.” He raised his eyebrows at you.

“About what I do?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Alright. What do you wanna know?”

You took a deep breath and asked something that you’d been wondering for the last two months.

“Is it weird, knowing that most people you know have seen you naked?” 

Eddie didn’t seem fazed by the question in the slightest - not that you expected him to be. He shrugged.

“I like the way I look,” he replied. “It actually doesn’t bother me at all.” You clicked your tongue to your teeth and asked another question.

“Does anything about it bother you?” To your surprise, he took the question seriously, taking his time as he came up with a response.

“It definitely feels like I live in a different world a lot of the time,” he answered. “Like, I go to work, I meet the person I’m supposed to fuck, and then I do whatever I gotta do to get them off. That’s all it is, really. After a while, it just feels like going through the motions. The excitement isn’t really there anymore. On the other hand, I make a shit ton of money to have sex with beautiful people, so…”

You tried to ignore the way the heat rose to your cheeks as he talked about work. From what you’d seen, it was clear that not one person had faked their enjoyment for him. Of course, it made you a little curious what it would be like, but not curious enough to do anything about it.

At least, not yet.

“You’ve never, like, caught feelings?” you asked. “Or maybe gotten coffee with one of them? Wait, do you ever have sex off camera?”

“Wooow, you’ve really been thinking about this, huh?” he teased, jumping up to sit on the counter beside you. Being next to him was starting to feel comfortable again, now that you were speaking freely. “Uhh, well for starters, I don’t have sex off-camera very often, honestly. My job doesn’t make it that easy to date. And yeah, I’ve met up with partners after if I feel like we’d get along, but I don’t know. It always feels more like friendship than anything else.” You cocked your head curiously.

“But you had sex with them,” you pointed out, confused.

“You’ve never fucked one of your friends before?” he asked. You shook your head. “Oh. Well, like I said, my perception of this kind of thing is a little skewed.”

You nodded slowly, then realized those were all of your main questions. Talking about it actually did make things a whole lot better. 

“Thank you for being so open about it,” you told him.

“Thank you for sticking around,” he replied. “And seriously, you can ask me anything. Or, we can never talk about it again. Up to you.”

“Thanks,” you said with a smile. “I’ll let you know.”

He went off to do his thing and you did yours, and that was that. Things went back to normal again, more or less - at least for another week. 

The problem was, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. When you were trying to sleep at night, your curiosity coursed through you to search his name again, and it became increasingly difficult not to succumb to it. You didn’t want to cross that line, though. It felt like a necessary boundary to have. 

Instead, you did what you usually did. You read, you listened, you pictured things in your head.

Your mind always wandered to your roommate anyway. 

One night, Eddie had left, and he was supposed to be gone until morning. You used it as an opportunity to walk around naked, watch romantic comedies on the couch, and listen to music he’d hate as loudly as you wanted. It was glorious. 

You were in your room dancing in a t-shirt and underwear, and it was turning out to be an excellent night. Eventually, your friend called, so you chatted with her for a bit on speaker phone as you put away your laundry. Naturally, Eddie came up. 

“Okay,” she said. “There’s a really simple solution here, and it’s to fuck your hot Sex-God of a roommate.” You rolled your eyes.

“That’s not simple, and it’s not a solution,” you replied. “And our relationship isn’t like that. I can’t believe you looked him up.”

“Of course I looked him up! One of us had to!” your friend shouted back. “And, can I just say - damn.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” you responded with a sigh. “I’m just trying to be…respectful.”

“It sounds like he doesn’t care at all,” your friend noted. “But I get it, I guess. You’re a lot stronger than I’ll ever be.” You laughed.

“Thank you, I think I deserve a medal for going through this while also not having had sex in six months.”

“Absolutely,” your friend agreed. “Alright, girlie, I’m headed to bed. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

You hung up the phone and hung a few sweaters up in your closet, then walked into the kitchen to grab yourself a drink. The problem was, when you got there, you realized that Eddie had beat you to it.

“Want something?” he asked, bent over into the fridge.

“Fuck!” you yelled, jumping back. “What are you -? Why are you - ? When did you -?” Eddie laughed and grabbed two beers from the fridge, then closed the door and handed you one. 

“Relax,” he said. “My plans fell through so I came home early. I like your pants, by the way.” You looked down at yourself to realize you weren’t wearing any. You chuckled, then pushed him away from you.

“Dick,” you said, cracking the can open. He did the same, and then you clinked your beers together before each taking a sip. “Thank god I’m wearing some clothes. I wasn’t a few hours ago.” 

“That’s hot,” he teased. 

“Shut up.” You turned to go back to your room so you could put real pajamas on, and were confused when he followed you in. 

“Your friend has a point by the way,” Eddie said. You froze in your tracks, then pivoted to face him.

“What?” you asked, your stomach dropping to the floor. “Wait, how much of that conversation did you hear?”

“Uhhh, well I definitely heard that whole last part about me,” he replied. “Six months, by the way? I agree, you do deserve an award for that.” 

Jesus Christ.

“Oh my God I have to move out,” you said. Eddie laughed, then pulled you closer to him by the wrist. You felt your breath hitch at being so close to him. Your eyes met his, and you immediately felt hypnotized. 

“Listen,” he said, his grip on your wrist burning into your skin. “Feel free to tell me to fuck off, but six months is a long time, and I could help out if you wanted.”

“Eddie, are you seriously suggesting…?” The corner of his lip twitched up slightly.

“It wouldn’t mean anything, obviously. I just know you’re curious, and since you’re going through a dry spell or whatever I could be of service. And then it would be out of the way, and you could move on.”

You stared at him, having a million thoughts at once.

Yes, you wanted that very much. The thought of it alone was already making your core ache and throb for him. You knew he would blow your mind, and it had been so long…

Then again, you also knew it was a horrible idea. You both lived together, and having sex would complicate things. Most of all, you knew that - despite what he was saying - it would mean something, and you wouldn’t move on. He could, but you couldn’t. That’s not how it worked for you.

“I can’t,” you said. He nodded and dropped your hand.

“Alright,” he replied casually. “Then you should go fuck someone else so you stop thinking about me.”

“I’m not thinking about -”

“Good night,” he smirked.

He left your room, and you heard him walk to his own room and shut the door. 

He was probably right. You needed to break your dry spell. So, you did what any sensible person would do and re-downloaded Tinder. By the following night, you’d found a suitable guy to hook up with.

You invited him to your apartment instead of going to his, because it felt safer. And Eddie unshockingly had no problems with it, so that wasn’t an issue. He said he was going to stay in his room and listen to music, and to just text him when you were done. 

So…you did that. 

The sex was bad. Like, remarkably bad. The man clearly had relied on his good looks and big dick and felt like that was enough. The worst part was that he thought he was nailing it the whole time. He was only over for about 45 minutes total, after which you told him you had to get to bed. He seemed disappointed, but also he’d just had sex so he wasn’t too bummed about it. 

You texted Eddie, and within a few minutes you heard his door open and his footsteps approaching your room from down the hall. 

“Damn, he’s gone already?” he teased, staring out the window to see your Tinder hook-up driving away. “That’s a shame. I wanted to meet the man that caused you to do the worst fake orgasm sounds I’ve ever heard.” 

“Eddie!” you yelled, wrapping your robe tighter around yourself. “You said you wouldn’t listen!” 

“I got curious! Sue me!” he shouted back. “Now we’re even. Curiosity got the best of both of us.”

You stared at him for a moment, then realized he was right. You sighed.

“Fine,” you said. “Thanks for recommending I do that, by the way. Now my body count is higher and my dignity is shattered.” Eddie laughed.

“Body counts are bullshit anyway,” he replied. “Sorry he couldn’t get you there.”

“Guys usually can’t,” you told him. Which was true - you mainly could only come using toys, and most guys seemed intimidated at the idea of using them. Like it was emasculating or something.

“I bet I could,” Eddie said with a smirk.

“I bet you could, too,” you agreed. “I’m gonna go shower.”

“Have fun,” he teased. You rolled your eyes and made your way to the bathroom. 

Showering did clear your mind a bit, but made you no less sexually frustrated. You tried to touch yourself, but weren’t getting anywhere, so you just got yourself clean instead. You put a fresh pair of underwear on and wrapped your robe around yourself, then headed back to your room. 

Eddie was right beside your door - leaning against the wall, arms crossed. He eyed you up and down, then took a step towards you.

“I have a question,” he said. 

“Um, okay.”

“Have you ever gotten off to my videos?” 

He asked it so casually, you needed a minute to even comprehend what he was saying, and even longer to realize he wasn’t kidding.

“Eddie, what the hell?” you replied. You tried to maintain your composure, but your attempts were futile. Especially when he looked at you like that. 

“I’ve just been wondering,” he continued. “Curiosity, that’s all.” You swallowed. 

“Not to any of your videos,” you answered. 

“To the thought of me?”

Yes. Not intentionally, but yes.

Your breathing became shaky, his words enough to get you worked up again.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice soft. 

“I’m helping you out,” he responded. “Salvaging your night.” He hooked his finger into the tie around your waist, then tugged you even closer to him. “I mean, if you want me to. The offer is there.”

Fuck it. You were tired of fighting your attraction to him. You nodded. 

“Okay,” you said. “Let’s just get it over with.” He smiled. “How do we start? Should I lie down? Is there anything off limits? What do I-”

“Don’t think about it,” he said, answering your line of questioning by silencing you. “Get on the bed.” He let go of you so you could walk into your room and follow his orders. You watched him rub his hands together and crack his knuckles as if he was getting ready to go to work - which made sense, all things considered. Then, he followed your footsteps to your bed and made his way towards you until he was settled beside you.

His hand trailed up your body until it settled in your hair. He gripped it tightly so he could angle your head to the side, then leaned over and pressed light kisses to your neck that sent shivers down your spine. 

“Do you like things on the gentle side or more rough?” he asked against your skin. 

“Healthy mix of both,” you answered. He hummed in approval, then licked a stripe up your neck until his lips were to your ear. 

“Talk to me during, okay?” he said. “Tell me what you want.”

Okay, this was officially worth it no matter the consequences.

“I like what you’re doing,” you responded. You felt his mouth return to where it had been before, except this time he found a sensitive spot and sucked on it. You gasped, so he did it again, harder. 

“Hickies?” he asked. 

“I’d rather not have them, but also please don’t stop,” you muttered. Your eyes fluttered closed as you enjoyed the sensations. His lips were soft but firm, and every point of contact with him felt like it was on fire.

“I can work with that.” 

While he continued kissing and nipping at your neck, his hand left your hair to snake down and pull the tie on your robe until it was undone. 

You expected him to take your robe off like he was unwrapping a gift - quickly and without precision - but instead he took his time with you. He was slow and deliberate with every action, opening you beneath him little by little and addressing each new exposed part of you before moving on and continuing. He groped at one of your breasts while kissing you, then kissed down your neck and to your other breast. His lips settled on your left nipple while his fingers worked the right one - pinching, sucking, biting, driving you absolutely crazy. 

“Fuck,” you moaned. “N-need more.” He released your nipple from his mouth with a pop.

“More what?”

“Everything,” you whined. You would have been embarrassed by how into this you were, but you were too busy enjoying to feel anything other than pleasure. “More. Harder.”

“Mmm,” he said. He adjusted his technique, now grasping at you more intensely. He grabbed the soft skin at your waist and squeezed, then curled around to cradle your lower back. His lips returned to your neck, and this time he bit and sucked so hard you let out a yelp.

“Too much?” he asked, leaning back to gauge the look on your face.

“No,” you responded. “I love it.” He nodded and got back to it, continuing to suck at your pulse point while his knee dipped between your thighs to push them apart. He bent his leg to slowly drag his knee up until it reached your center. It rubbed against you, hard, causing you to let out a gasp.

“Oh, shit,” you said, your voice desperate. “Do that again.” So he did, and then you found yourself grinding against his knee at your own pace. You were definitely going to leave a wet spot on his jeans, but he didn’t seem to care. Your breathing picked up, and you clutched at his hand so you could lead it to the band of your panties. He slid his fingers beneath the fabric and down your slit, spreading you open and exploring the parts of you most slick with desire. He circled your clit while he kissed your collarbone, slipped one finger inside you as he bit at your breast, then added a second finger and rolled them inside you until they found the soft, spongy spot that caused your eyes to roll back in your head. His mouth latched onto your nipple, tongue circling it in time with his thumb down below. You rocked your hips against his hand, needing more pressure. You needed him to fuck you, actually, but he seemed to be in no rush of doing so. 

Your stomach tightened as you felt yourself rising for him. He was going to make you come already, when he hadn’t even been touching you for that long. 

Suddenly, you were cresting over the edge. It happened so fast you didn’t have time to prepare or warn Eddie, although he seemed to know it was happening before you did. 

You gasped and moaned and cried out his name, your vision completely blacked out. Your hips continued to buck and your legs started shaking. Eventually, the waves crashed and you were centered in your body again. 

“Okay, wow,” you said breathlessly. 

“That was too easy,” he responded. You scoffed. 

“Yeah, yeah, you win,” you replied. “You’re just as amazing in bed as you look like you would be-”

“No,” he continued. “I mean - that was too easy, and I like a challenge, so I’m gonna see how many times I can make you do that.”

Within seconds, he was making his way down your body, pulling your underwear off of you, grabbing your ankles, and tugging your body towards him. He laid your legs on either side of his shoulders and dove his head between your thighs, kissing the spot that was still extremely sensitive. It was overstimulating, but felt so good you wouldn’t dare ask him to stop. He ate you out like he was poisoned and you were the antidote. He plunged his tongue into your hole as his hands spread you apart as far as you’d go. He kissed back up to your clit and settled there, teeth latching around it gently. Then, his fingers slid back inside you, and he continued to suck on you, and somehow you were already going to come again. One of your hands found purchase in his hair, and you pulled his head against you even more. The other hand clutched the sheets beside you desperately, crumpling them into a fist as you unraveled against his mouth. 

You hadn’t even realized how tightly your thighs were clenching around his head until you released him, but he didn’t move from where he’d been. He continued finger-fucking you and flicking his tongue side to side against your clit all the way through your orgasm and beyond. There was no recovery period or moment of relaxation. It hurt to have him there, a little bit, but not in a bad way. He bit at the fleshy part of your thigh so he had a second to catch his breath, but kept kissing you everywhere he had access and treating your body like it was his most precious belonging. 

Because in that moment, you did belong to him. 

Your third orgasm immediately followed the second. It was like he was destroying you - breaking down every wall you’d ever put up leaving you an absolute mess underneath him. His motions slowed, ever in tune with your body. It was like he could read your mind. 

“Holy shit,” you whispered. He sat up straight and removed his fingers from you, immediately putting them in his mouth to suck them clean. “You’re really good at that.” He grinned, his mouth and chin shining. 

“It’s my favorite part,” he replied. “Are you tapping out?”

“No, I -” Your head was spinning, but you absolutely did not want this to stop. “I just need a minute.” He chuckled, wiped his mouth, then pressed a quick kiss to your ankle. He moved your legs off him and back onto the bed, and then he laid down beside you and joined you in staring at the ceiling. 

“So,” he said, his hands clasped on his stomach. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” you replied. Your gaze traveled down his stomach to the very noticeable bulge in his jeans. “So, oral really does it for you, huh?” Eddie turned to see your eyes fixed on his crotch. He exhaled sharply - the start of a laugh - then nodded. 

“Yeah. I’m good at it and I like it. But, I don’t know whether I’m good at it because I like it or if I like it because I’m good at it.”

“A real chicken versus egg kind of thing,” you said. He laughed. 

“Exactly.” 

“What else do you like?” you asked. 

“Hmm?” He seemed genuinely confused by the question.

“I mean, what else do you like? Not considering your partner’s pleasure, just your own.” He narrowed his eyes.

“Why do you ask?”

“Because we’re about to have sex,” you replied.

“Are we?” he teased. You rolled your eyes.

“Answer me,” you told him. “I want it to be good for you, too.”

“But that wasn’t the deal,” he countered, sitting up. “I’m doing this for you, not me.”

“Why can’t it be both?” He still looked at you as if you weren’t making any sense at all. “Eddie, come on. Just tell me what you like. You’ve never been shy about sex stuff in the past, clearly -”

“I like being bit,” he answered quickly. “Especially on the neck and lips. And, like, the crook of my elbow for some reason?” You nodded, urging him to continue. He sighed, then laid back down beside you. “I like the idea of someone using me just to get off - degradation, treating me like I’m nothing, all that jazz.”

“The idea of it?” you repeated, turning on your side to face him. “You’ve never tried it?”

“Not really,” he responded. “I’m kinda known for the soft-dom thing I have going on, so that’s usually what I end up doing.” 

“Hmm.” You thought about his answer in the silence that followed, until he spoke again.

“You know what’s weird?”

“What?”

“Nobody’s really asked me that before.”

You looked at him, completely baffled at the situation. This poor man had only focused on his partners this whole time. No wonder he’d grown jaded to it.

“It’s been a minute,” you said. “I think I’m ready to keep going.”

“Yeah, okay.”

You could visibly see him shift back into work-mode. His eyes lit up and focused in on you again, and his hands went to his belt buckle to unfasten it. You sat up and kneeled on the bed, then helped him take his pants and boxers off and tossed them to the floor. You shimmied your robe off your shoulders and let that fall to the floor as well. He sat up in the bed with his back to the headboard so he could take his shirt off, and now you were both completely naked.

Woah.

You stared at his body, mesmerized by all the ink in his skin. You traced a finger delicately over the tattoos on his chest, shoulders, and forearms. He watched you appreciatively, a soft smile on his face, his expression peaceful. You reached over to your bedside table drawer and grabbed a condom from the box you kept there.

Then, you straddled him. 

“Hey, wait -” he said. “Look, I know what you wanna do for me, but it’s probably not gonna happen. Like, I don’t usually come from sex unless I help myself out.”

You kind of saw that in one of the videos. He’d been going with this one woman for like a half hour straight and nothing.

“I want to try,” you told him. He still didn’t look convinced. “Come on, you think only porn stars are good in bed?”

“I just don’t want you to feel bad if -”

You leaned in and kissed him, hungrily, your hands tangling in his hair. Yeah, he’d taken care of you, but you were far from satiated. You wanted him badly, and you wanted to make him feel just as good as he’d made you feel.

You could still taste yourself on his swollen lips, and that’s when you realized the two of you had never actually kissed before. You broke from him, concerned that you’d crossed a line.

“Sorry, I should have asked if kissing is okay first -”

He was kissing you again before you could even get your sentence out. His arms went around your waist, hugging you tightly until your chest was against his. You tugged on his hair, hard, and felt him smirk against your lips. 

He was growing impossibly hard beneath you, which only encouraged you to keep going.

You clawed against his back and his mouth opened up for you. You used this as an opportunity to suck his bottom lip into your mouth before biting it. 

He whimpered, which was just about the hottest sound you’d ever heard.

Your mouth traveled down his jaw and to his neck, where you gave him the same treatment he’d given you.

“Careful,” he managed to say (though his voice was weak). “I can’t be marked up for work.” You nodded, then grazed your teeth across his skin. He gasped, the grip of his hands tightening on your waist. You kissed him and bit him and sucked him on both sides of his neck, leaving no spot behind and making sure you didn’t stay in one place for too long. Eventually, you felt yourself craving him again - this time, you wanted all of him. 

Your hips rocked against his erection, and you knew it was game over the moment his bare cock slid up your folds. You moaned, then reached for the condom beside you so he could put it on. You shifted yourself a bit further down on his lap as he rolled it down his length, and then your eyes caught the tattoo on his thigh that started this whole thing - the witch, in all her glory.

“She’s looking right at it,” you said, your eyes fixed to the design. Eddie huffed out a breathy laugh. 

“Yeah, uhh -” he began, flustered. “It’s her - shit, okay - it’s supposed to be a joke where she’s looking at my dick because my dick is a magic wand, but that’s dorky as shit so usually when people ask I just joke that it’s because she’s a voyeur.” You smiled, then shook your head. 

“So, why tell me the truth then?” you asked. “What makes me different?” You looked at his blown out pupils, deep brown and infinite, and wondered why you’d spent so much time trying not to look into them. Maybe because now that you’d done it, you weren’t sure you could ever stop.

“I don’t know,” Eddie answered. “I don’t know why you’re different.” 

You maintained eye contact as you lifted yourself up and lined his cock with your entrance, and then you slowly let him sink into you. 

Oh.

The immediate stretch was incredible. Eddie was well-endowed and thick, and it was going to take a little work to fit him completely inside you. You started slowly, lifting yourself up and down - all the while, your eyes stayed fixed to his. 

His hand snaked between you to rub your clit slowly, getting you wetter and allowing you to accommodate his size better. You moaned loudly, unable to stop yourself, then began bouncing at a faster pace. 

You kissed his forehead, the sweat on his brow leaving your lips slightly salty. Then, you kissed the spot right next to his eyes, his cheek, his jaw, before finally reaching his lips again. 

Hungry. That was the best word to describe it. It felt like the two of you had each never wanted anything more in your lives as much as you wanted each other. He bottomed out inside you, and you began to lift yourself up and crash back down, slowly, but with force. 

“Faster,” he muttered. “Please, faster.” His voice was breathy and weak. A part of you wanted to tease him more - you wanted to drive him crazy and then watch him explode, just as he’d done to you. But the other part of you wanted exactly what he wanted, so you obliged. 

You started to ride him faster, rolling your hips in such a way where he was hitting the spot inside you that made you scream his name and pull his hair without abandon. He continued to work your clit until - somehow - you felt yourself building up to yet another orgasm. 

“Fuck,” you whined, continuing to fuck him exactly as you’d been doing. “I’m gonna come again.”

He whimpered your name, and then his words became incomprehensible. But you wouldn’t have been able to hear them anyway, because pretty soon you were coming so hard you were transported through space and time. Seriously, the feeling was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before. He was taking up all the space in your body and your mind. 

“You’re so good, Eddie,” you said. Your words were muffled against his mouth, but you knew he understood them. “So fucking good.”

Your motions slowed down, and you started to make your way back to the room. He was staring at you, his eyes no longer piercing. They were soft and vulnerable instead.

“I’m sorry I didn’t -”

“That one was for me,” you interrupted. “This next one's for you.”

“What-?”

Your lips crashed into his again. You’d gotten your fill - more than your fill, actually - and now you just had one goal. 

Make Eddie Munson come. 

Easy enough, you figured. He’d given you more than enough clues to tell you how. With his dick still deep inside you, you kissed down his neck to his shoulder, then lifted his arm so you could make your way to the crook of his elbow. You sucked at the tender, sensitive skin. His eyes widened.

“Oh, fuck,” he said. You smirked, then dropped his arm and promptly fucked him as fast and rough as you possibly could. 

Eddie threw his head back in ecstasy, groaning and grunting and continuing to talk under his breath - only this time you were able to understand some of it. 

“Holy fucking shit…Jesus Christ…Just like that…”

Most of it was curse words. 

His fingers dug into your ass as he guided your hips exactly the way he needed them to go, and then all of a sudden he was twitching beneath you, his hands flexing, his jaw dropped. He desperately pressed open-mouthed kisses against your collarbone and breasts, holding you flush to him as you milked him for all he was worth. 

His breathing slowed, his face still buried in your tits. Finally, he leaned back so he could look up at you. You smiled and waited for him to say something, but he didn’t. He just kissed you instead - this time lightly and without urgency behind it. 

You let him slip out of you, then collapsed beside him, completely blissed out. He stayed seated and upright, although he did take the condom off and dropped it in the trash next to the bed. His eyes had turned pensive, his eyebrows furrowed with worry.

“Everything okay?” you asked. 

“No,” he replied, staring straight ahead.

“What’s wrong?” He shrugged. 

“I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I felt like that.” You cocked your head in confusion.

“And that’s a problem?” you wondered. You maybe would have freaked out had you not just had four orgasms - Instead, you were just concerned.

“I don’t know.”

His head turned until you could see his expression fully, and you noticed there was a hint of a smile on his face. 

“Um, is there anything I can do to help?” you asked. 

“Yeah.” He grabbed your hand and took a deep breath. “You wanna go on a date with me?”

(Part 2)

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

Feel free to make requests in the comments, through DM, or using my taglist! In the meantime, check out my the masterlist on my main account where I post non-smut content :)

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[cutehoons02]

Draw me and you, to escape the emotions

*pairing: Artist frat? emo boy Hyunjin x Popular fashion student

*trope: Grumpy x Sunshine a little bit Enemies x Opposites attract

*tags: fluff, desperate boy, loves to touch you, jealousy, smut, hot drawings, rivals student to lovers? a lot of tension (pets name: Barbie, Princesses)

*synopsis: Hyunjin loved to draw anything, but for a couple of months her mind and drawings always represented the fashion design girl, what would happen if this girl found a hot drawing composed between her and that artist with whom she has shared lessons?

comments are apprecited

*word count: 5k (English is not my first language) my masterlist🩵

REBLOG IF YOU ENJOYED

Hyunjin was an emblem of Y/n, he was his opposite in everything, he was quite cynical with people, he was slightly introverted and always stayed with his group of friends, he knew that he hated all popular and frivolous people, was always dressed in slightly mono color clothes and loose jeans but one thing that he loved Y/n of him were his hair slightly long, The lack of lightheartedness that he had when he was slightly made up with eyeliner or dark eyeshadows and his nails colored in black or with drawings made by himself.

"When will you stop watching him and go talk to him? Don’t tell me that one of the most popular girls in the art and fashion design course is intimidated by the artist loser emo boy?" You watched your best friend Winter as she checked out some shades to use for the next sketches.

"I’m not intimidated by him, but i know what he thinks of me. To him i am just a frivolous fashion student who has entered this course only thanks to my parents' surname and that o have a perfect life. I see how he looks up or how he teams me from head to foot when i walk into the courtroom"

Winter started to laugh slightly because for the first time, she saw her best friend definitely intimidated by making friends with someone or just talking to a guy, and it was not like her at all because Y/n was full of friends and people around him.

“You’re definitely intimidated by him Y/n, you can admit it I’m your best friend and you can also admit that you care, and not only you are interested in his art but also his beautiful face or how his hands hold a pencil or drawing paper and admit that you would like those hands to touch you, i’m leaving because i have History of Fashion. Good luck with the art drawing course or maybe i meant good luck with your favorite emo artist!"

Y/n looked up and loved Winter but since he realized you might have a little crush on Hyunjin every moment was good to make fun of and get you upset.

When you entered the art drawing room it was already almost full, your eyes looked where there was a place and black eyes watched you badly, Hyunjin could not stand you because now you were laughing and you were disturbing his artistic you were too noisy and thought that everyone should love or idolize you, when he looked at you you had as always something colorful in your outfit and in hand you had a notebook full of colored sketches and dresses with fantasies too eccentric to be real. He watched you approach his empty table and sighed loudly when with one eye he saw all your colored pencils leaning next to his drawing board and a perfume too sweet for him sinned his nose, He knew you would talk to him because every time you sat with someone you started being too nosy for his taste so took his headphones but while he took his design to put on something of KISS heard your sweet voice talking to him.

"Hey, you’re Hyunjin, right? I know you’re not part of the fashion design course..." did not even finish talking when an appetizing answer came out from his lips

"Congratulations on the deductions Barbie, what made you think? the fact that i don’t wear a sweater from i don’t know how many dollars or bracelets that will cost more than the rent i pay every month"

You looked at yourself as you were dressed and you swore to have worn a bracelet Van Cleef but a slight smile crept into you when you saw him put again the headphones away, maybe he wanted to continue the conversation

"Oh, so you are one of those classic artists who dresses slightly monochrome but somehow tries to get out his artistic vein by making up as now that you wear a light black eye shadow in the eyelids and that he paints his nails obviously black to make think to people that you are a tormented artist and that you express only your pain and nothing interesting?"

You leaned slightly into the chair to see his sketchbook and there were sketches of human figures with slightly sensual perspectives of their bodies, Suddenly closed his notebook and for the first time curdò you slightly with a grin and raised slightly his overtone where he had a piercing.

"Surely o design more interesting things than mannequins without expressions or emotions with clothes that we ordinary mortals can not afford even in another life. Can you please stop invading my art space, i don’t have time to waste with a princess, or maybe the name Barbie represents you more!"

He wanted to piss you off but you were used to people who made fun of you or teased you because of your choice of studies

"Wow, you seriously have a sharp tongue prince of darkness, it’s not that you need to compensate more, or maybe you know how to use it only to intimidate people"

"Rest assured that this language I do not only use to speak but also to do other things with it that princesses like you should not even know. Do you always need all this attention from others or is it a bonus for me?”

"No today is special, o wanted to attract the attention of the emo boy in the class and maybe learn something from your art to do as you said my portraits look more human!" Hyunjin was surprised by your statement for a few seconds but you couldn’t learn anything from someone like him, you were two worlds apart and all this exuberance would fly away when you went back to your fashion class.

"If you think you can learn something from me you’ve just in the wrong bench, come back to your stylist friends"

The professor came into the classroom and for your bad luck or good fortune he had in mind to make a project of his students and when you heard what he was talking about you would come back with lots of ideas.

"This project you guys will do in pairs composed by a student of Fashion Desing and the other by a student of Art, the art student will draw slightly sensual anatomical representations, and the Fashion Design student will express with his drawings sketches with clothes or lingerie that fit well to the sensual forms of the human body. The project will be based on the confidence that an artist must also express to his stylist and on the ability to relate between two worlds so close but at the same time distant between human figuration with emotions and expressions to a mannequin designed only to wear a dress."

You immediately sundown towards Hyunjin with a little smile and watched carefully his hands touch from the nervous his hair slightly long and puffed when he saw your small grin on your lips

"Well, i think we should work together Emo boy for a while, how about you give me your number so we can agree on where to find us."

"We don’t need to exchange numbers, I’ll come to your office on Thursday afternoon and find out because otherwise I won’t help you with anything and tell the professor that you didn’t take this project seriously."

You saw yourself leaving the classroom Hyunjin and sighed, what the hell had you got into because you did not choose another bench? You just wanted to become maybe her friend and understand her drawing style not become her guinea pig for her grumpy attitude during the lessons and project.

Thursday came too early for Y/n’s taste, next to her was Winter in their fashion art studio they shared together. " Y/n Rest assured, he told you in class that he would come to start the project in your studio, for now, you are not so famous and rich to have 2/3 studios spread around the city, so take a deep breath, and yes yourself with him."

"I can be myself as long as I want, she doesn’t like me or maybe even worse she hates me."

"But stop, it’s just paranoia you get. If he hated you, he would ask the professor to change her partner and then a beautiful mix could come out between you two. You might discover some cracks that he has if you buy so cynically with everyone and he could understand that you are not a frivolous girl who only thinks about money or clothes, but that you have real feelings and that you always feel overwhelmed by being perfect with everyone"

When you heard these words, you immediately shined Winter, and you and she came from two completely different worlds. She was not wealthy but had the moral and loving support of her family in everything she did instead you were too rich but your family always expected that I was the perfect girl of the family but at the same time they didn’t care much to spend time with you, for them there were only the businesses and the good publicity that reflected your surname.

A light knock intruded you from that moment of vulnerability and Winter walked out the back door of the studio and gave you an extra thumb to make sure things between you and Hyunjin went well.

When you opened the door in front of you there was Hyunjin with a small tail holding his long hair tight, dressed in a black tank top that made his slim but sculpted abdomen and a grey cardigan, of the washed jeans that made her long legs stand out and in the face as always she had light black eyeshadow shaded and wore earrings shaped as a ring; It was everything your parents or relatives didn’t want to have to do with but you found it so attractive and real for your taste.

"Can i come in or will you keep doing a full x-ray with your doe eyes of my Barbie body?" You feel your cheeks turn slightly red and move to let him into your studio

"I wasn’t taking any x-rays with my eyes Hyunjin, i was just surprised to find you at my door, in thought you wouldn’t come any more or that you would ask the professor to change partner" You saw Hyunjin getting dangerously close to you and I slightly lower my head to get to your height.

"Why should i ever ask the professor to change partners if I’m dealing with one of the most intelligent students in fashion design, Or maybe you’re not, and how people say your parents besides buying this study bribe the professors to get you high marks?" You sighed, knowing that he would bring it to your attention to tease you or make you weak in his eyes.

"No one in my family has corrected the teachers, you can ask people who do not stand me that I am always meticulous in all the projects or tests I do. I love what I study and it seems a waste of time not to prepare me or get bad grades if what want to do in life is to be a Stylist”

Hyunjin looked at you slightly surprised and nodded.

The study of Y/n was too full of colors for his taste and slightly messy and this thing definitely bothered him; if he had to draw and concentrate on a project the classroom had to be meticulously clean and tidy. It was full of lights with strange shapes and a variety of colored fabrics that he did not even know existed but at heart seemed a familiar and cozy place to be a studio of two students novice to the world of fashion.

"Don’t tell me that for you it’s too colorful or messy this studio because here I create my artistic masterpieces!" Hyunjin sighed because for him the "masterpieces artists" were the paintings of Monet, the various artistic styles like Cubism, French/German Expressionism, or Futurism not the mannequins with I do not know how many layers of stuffing.

"We have a different artistic concept and masterpieces artists me and you, let’s try to make this project come out a nice work, Barbie"

"You are too rigid and authoritarian Hyunjin, I am so disappointed that for you these mannequins can not express art, we are surrounded by art. You and I are works of art too, only that nobody draws us, I would pay gold to be born in those times when painters or sculptors were not afraid to paint or immortalize a scene or a person" Hyunjin sat down in the little chair that was around the drawing board and looked with a small smile at the exuberance of the little Barbie who had in front of her embracing a dummy without identity.

Who knows how it is to have those slender braids around my body or how they would fit perfectly to my neck while you tried to flip him...

You and Hyunjin began to agree on what to make and what clothes and robes he could create for the bodies he designed, You watched carefully as the long-haired boy drew, and I stood still and with my mouth slightly open to see how carefully and accurately and respectfully he drew the human body, But the thing that made you turn your nose a little was that in those two drawings the figures were anonymous, you could understand the expressions they made but they looked like two faces completely equal.

"Why in both these designations do people have no face? You said that the mannequins had no expressions and a true soul but also these two bodies seem to be mannequins but only represented with more human looks and slightly more sensual"

"I never found a subject that was worth drawing with more details, but if you want I can draw a face while just adding lips, eyes, and eyebrows"

His response was always well controlled and did not release any emotion but in what sense no one in 24 years of life had ever inspired him? You wanted to tease him slightly so you got a brilliant goddess but that led to a series of events that you would never expect in your life.

"What if I was your subject? I’m 100% sure you could do better than that Hyunjin with your drawings and I would be perfect"

"I knew you were self-centered but are you asking me to represent yourself in my designs? I have never represented any of my friends or family and you want to pose for me and be the muse of our project? You watched Hyunjin slightly embarrassed and nervous for asking him that thing but what would have been wrong if you were the two drivers of your performances this idea of yours had to tell her at another time because you had already brought up a bomb.

“Oh, my Hyunjin, I didn’t mean to be your muse but as the first model, you could represent me and then another person."

"I’ll think about it Y/n, meanwhile in these days, he throws down some clothes, dressing gowns, and lingerie for the project. I don’t want to see pastels or paillettes or glitter in your projects" You raised your eyes to the sky and smiled at the boy next to you

"You’re so boring, Hyunjin, but I’ll change your mind about fashion and make you understand that we designers need art just as much as you artists do."

Another week had passed when you and Hyunjin started having a two-day weekly routine where you met in your studio, Hyunjin began to tolerate the way you laughed or responded to his frosty jokes, how you moved around the studio while taking the various pictures or making him discover colors and fabrics he had never seen in his life, How you were excited to talk about fashion or how you were always amazed by the way she drew or put your ideas in her notebook. He found your style and your clothing slightly bold and too colorful for his tastes that went from black to white, to beige and a few times to bordeux; was slightly fascinating how you didn’t care what other people thought of what you were wearing but she would never admit it out loud.

Without noticing when he had free time and drew to clear his mind began to represent you in his sketchbook, the first drawing he made was of you sitting while you were coloring your sketch but slowly his drawings became slightly more and more. While kissing a demon with a human appearance with dark and long hair, you sit in a sensual pose with white lingerie and slightly pastel shades that you had created for yourself where he captured all your energy and spelllessness.

That afternoon you went for your first time in his studio because Winter had to be alone with her crazy ideas to create a dress for a theatrical show, then you found yourself inside the small studio of Hyunjin; was completely different from your studio but it represented absolutely his soul and his artistic vein.

Hyunjin thought it was a serious joke of fate, you had already started sewing lingerie for a couple of days and even the prototype of your dress that had to fit your body.

"Would you mind if I tried on lingerie and then the dress? so you could throw down a sketch of the harmonious part of my body with only the underwear and later of my body wearing the prototype of the dress" Hyunjin felt slightly warm and gathered with an elastic his long hair in a light ruffled tail

Hyunjin must have liked your lingerie and the robe you had created together not your body

“No, no there’s no problem in fact before we finish with the prototypes better if it is so then I can draw you and you start sewing and finish the work" Annuist and went to the bathroom to put on the lingerie and the robe in white silk with some shades of pastel blue, you felt very beautiful but you were seriously afraid that Hyunjin didn’t like me

when you came out of the bathroom Hyunjin was sitting and looked at you with a look that you had never seen before your was maybe a look of admiration for your body or maybe it was just petrified from the good girl vibes that you emanated dressed only in a robe in thirst white nd pale blue and a blue bra with tiny panties. where he would have wanted to put her dirty hands of artist with her black nails that would contrast with the sweet good girl you were.

When you put the dress on you didn’t like it at all as it made you feel it was too short and tight for your standards "Could you draw my skirt slightly lower while drawing me? If you want I’ll show you how I would like it, maybe i mismeasured and made it slightly short, and also the top of the dress I don’t like as much as I wear because it’s too tight." Hyunjin dropped his professional pencil on the table and came closer to you, always keeping the right distance to respect you and not make you feel uncomfortable but it was days that he dreamed of potteri touch even with a finger that skin always perfect.

"Where should i place your skirt Y/n?" You made a sign to pull it down a little bit and with his big hands Hyunjin slowly pulled your skirt down a few centimeters and unintentionally put a hand on your thigh a slight redness intruded in your cheeks, you looked at him carefully almost kneeling to make you fall in a less succinct way the skirt and when he stood up he looked at you attentively but to your great surprise his hand remained still in your thigh and after a few seconds began to draw light circles and felt little ones The thrills grow around you. "I seriously hope you missized this skirt because i would never have let you leave this studio dressed in such a short skirt where other men would be allowed to look at you."

Hyunjin’s other hand placed itself on your side and pulled you slightly to itself, your breast lightly hitting her sculpted chest and lowering itself at the height of your face to look at you.

“I, uh yes, seriously mistook the measurements maybe at that moment I was distracted"

You felt his hands go slightly up in your thigh but they never went near your underwear because Hyunjin was literally an asshole and wanted to hear you beg to have his hands inside your panties.

"If I remember correctly when you took the measurements you were with me, what made you so distracted that you made a mistake of your simple body measurements Y/n?" You felt his breath tickle the lobe of your neck and watched it come closer to your face.

"I don’t know what made me distract Hyunjin" the Korean boy slowly laid his meaty lips on your neck and pinched you slightly inside your thigh, a slight cry of surprise and frustration came out of your mouth and you felt him laugh. "I don’t like bad girls especially those who lie Y/n, if you want to have only a small part of me at this moment try to remember what made you distract at that moment" slowly feel his fingers stop near your panties and sighed, Where was the Y/n full of security and never intimidated by anyone?

"You distracted me, Hyunjin, your big hands distracted me, your locks that fell wildly into your face, your big lips distracted me and..." You didn’t finish listing the things that distracted you that you felt his soft lips touching yours, To your great surprise the kiss was initially a shy exploration, your lips that met and explored for the first time with delicacy but at the same time passion. Time seemed to stand still, every thought dissolved in that sweetness that gradually intensified. The kiss became deeper, but never intrusive. You barely sighed at him and you put your arms around his neck to bring him closer to you.

When Hyunjin just walked away, with eyes always looking for yours to make sure everything was okay, you gave him a little smile. Then, with a sudden gesture, he laid his lips on your neck uncovered just under your ear. The warm breath touched your skin, and small pleasant chills flooded both your body and Hyunjin’s.

The kiss on the neck turned into a series of small touches, until he stopped at one point, exerting a slight but constant pressure. Closed your eyes, and you felt his breath become slower, deeper. You felt that unmistakable feeling, a combination of sweetness and a hint of pleasant intensity, as it left you a mark, a little sucker of possessiveness that made the boy in front of you groan in turn. It was nothing intrusive but for Hyunjin it represented a lot of "You’re my Barbie, remember that".

It was exactly 4 days since you last saw Hyunjin and every time you thought about him your cheeks were painted red or you thought about how good it felt to hear him moan, I put my hands on your head and a slight cry of frustration came out of your lips.

"Wow, you’re completely fucked up by that guy if, for the first time in 3 years of college, I’ve never seen you dressed simply with a gray sweatshirt, and sneakers without your beloved jewels, the only thing that represents you is that skirt." You watched Jake sit down in front of you and put hot caramel milk on your face

"I hate it, I’ve never felt so vulnerable in my life and besides it’s not at all in my sexual ethics to let me do I had to look in the house I don’t know how many shades of foundation so that my parents didn’t discover me with a purple and green bite that seems to have been made by a vampire and not by a human being" Jake started laughing and without being seen he looked around and saw that some table away there was Hyunjin with 3 other guys who were part of his group who were watching him

"Well every time I see him he gives me not vibes as a human being but as a demon with his long hair and those black shady eyeshadows that enhance those big eyes, I don’t know what you find so interesting in him but be careful, okay? I’ll keep quiet but you know there are moles in here and if they see you with "weird" people, your parents will find out immediately"

"It would be a bad thing if my parents found out that I kissed Hyunjin and had him make me a hickey and almost caress me." you watched Jake make a sign with his hand and his smile become more and thin until you felt a scent that you had learned to recognize from the distance of mint and spices, what did you do wrong to deserve all these shit figures with Hyunjin?

“Barbie is seriously surprised that you talk about these things, especially with a male, but shares arrived late to class if I had not come to pick you up and by the way, the lesson has been canceled so come to my house" You stopped suddenly when you felt that the lesson had been canceled but especially when you heard the words home

"It’s not better to go to my studio or I know look at your drawings in the library, what do you care about what do I talk to people is not as puritanical as you think I am, Hyunjin" You passed him and went into the corridor that led to the library but Hyunjin took your pulse and started walking in the university exit until you found yourself in front of a Mercedes

"I chose to go home because I forgot my sketchbook there and then we never went to the library to do the project, princess don’t tell me you’re afraid of being alone with me!" Watched you drive Hyunjin and you asked how it was possible that even doing such a trivial thing was attractive, that day he wasn’t made up he had only his usual piercing in the eyebrow and fake nerd glasses. It was strange for you to see him so naturally but even that fake version of "good guy" was beautiful in your eyes.

"When you stop taking full x-rays with those doe eyes, I know I’m attractive but I didn’t think you were so desperate by me" A little embarrassed laugh came out of your lips

"I’m not at all desperate for your presence, I just noticed that you weren’t made up and that for the first time, I see you with fake nerd glasses. You should wear them more often or maybe not, you already have a myriad of girls drooling on you!" You didn’t realize you said the last sentence until Hyunjin turned his head to your side and gently fixed a small rebellious tuft from your face to your ear and felt your ears turn all red with embarrassment

"I didn’t think that underneath the little princess was jealous of me and the other girls who asked me out."

"I’m not jealous, Hyunjin" stopped at a traffic light Hyunjin stretched slightly to get close to your face and blew you close to your lips "Remember what I said the last time we met, I don’t like lying girls."

Hyunjin’s apartment was really too clean and tidy to think that an artist lived there but in contrast, there were some of his drawings attached to the wall, modern works of art, and some picturesque paintings. You felt surprised and safe in that house and Hyunjin had given you permission to snoop around his world while he was cooking dinner, He had even given you permission to go and see his room and the shadow of his dog followed you all around wiggling his tail full of fur. Her room was slightly basic except for some sketches and some drawings scattered around the desk but the silver sketchbook full of paillettes made you slightly crooked nose, He hated with all his heart pallets or glitter what was doing something like that in his room?

You didn’t want to rummage through his private things but it was too hard for you not to look at that notebook so without thinking about it you opened the front page and in front of you there was a demon version of Hyunjin who kissed and embraced a girl and that girl with your big surprise it was you, You thought you were just imagining so you flipped through the notebook and in another sheet there was you sitting on horseback on Hyunjin where you kissed and he had a hand inside your jug that you had missized.

"Wow, this is interesting, to say the least" A slight redness formed in your cheeks and all over your body until you heard the voice of Hyunjin.

"What are you looking at?"

Hyunjin hoped that you had not found his paper full of sequins where he drew you and was slightly pale when he saw you make him sign that you had in hand that object full of pallets

"Don’t know, they look like very detailed drawings of you and me. I would say also quite explicit and then I would be the one who is desperate for your presence, it seems to me that the most desperate between you and me is you Hyunjin" saw him turn red from embarrassment and take a hand in his face

"Wait, wait. You didn’t have to look there! They were... they were just drafts!"

You slowly reawakened, showing a drawing where you were represented with a sensual pose while wearing the famous white and blue robe

“This seems like a draft? I would say that you put a lot of passion in detailing my... best profile but most importantly you have drawn my body harmoniously without sexualizing it too much"

Hyunjin came up to you and looked at you slightly sad "I’m sorry, i didn’t want you to find him so randomly, i would have shown it to you is why he was leaning so in plain sight on my table. If you feel uncomfortable or if you’re angry i can throw it away or if you don’t believe me we can set it on fire together" You looked at the man in front of you and lightly caressed his cheek “I’m not mad at you Hyunjin, no one in my life had managed to catch something of me and you have succeeded with these drawings"

Hyunjin held his breath when Y/n put his hand back on her cheek, his eyes slid into her features. and at that moment she was the one who felt she was not him, she was so different from him and came from two different worlds yet at that moment she felt unable to oppose.

His hand moves along his chest, drawing a slow and delicate path, almost to test the boundaries. He observes her, the breath becomes deeper, and when she comes to kiss him, she does not withdraw. Their lips meet in a kiss that is initially mild, almost shy, but soon becomes more intense, a perfect interweaving between his hidden desire and her security.

His hands, uncertain, rest on her shoulders, looking for a foothold. She moves away slightly, the smile is always present as she looks at him.

"You can touch me, you know. Where did the guy from last time go?

There’s nothing wrong with that."

He looks down for a moment, then, with a small smile, lets his fingers trace a light line along her arm, discovering how natural it is to touch her, How much he had wanted to do it since the first time he saw her with her self-centered clothes and her sparkling personality. She, encouraged by his timid audacity, moves on him, bringing their bodies even closer.

"I never thought something like that would ever happen with you, when i first saw you, i wanted to stay away from you because i know I’m not what your parents would want for their princess. As their lips seek each other again, the tension between them melts into something deeper, an intimacy born of the balance between his delicacy and her passion.

Omg i hope you enjoy this story🩵

[clockwayswrites]

Masked in Amity

CW: Sam doesn't come off great in this, but not Sam bashing. She just has a lot of growing up to do still and knee jerk reacts badly. (I also don't want to listen to any Sam bashing please and ty.)

Sam’s room still looked the same as always. Danny supposed that’s what happened when someone moved out for college but still came home again— especially to a home like Sam’s. There were only a few posters, a few photos, and a knickknack or two that had changed between high school and now. Danny sat on the edge of the bed like always.

“So how’s school doing?” Danny asked into the awkward silence. Silences never used to be awkward between them, or was that just looking back with rose colored glasses?

“Ugh,” Sam gripped and flopped back onto her bed next to Danny. “Why would you even ask me that? You know I hate it.”

“Because it’s what you’re doing right now? It’s a huge part of your life, you can’t just… avoid it.”

“Watch me,” Sam said, bitterly. Her snarled lips looked weird without the dark purple lipstick. “I’m going to get my stupid law degree my parents are paying for and work at some stupid corporate firm Dad has connections at and when my trust fund has made enough in interest I’m going to quite and go open a non-profit and sue all those fuckers I was forced to work for over how they’ve fucked up the environment.”

“Okay,” Danny said. He didn’t want to argue about this. He just hoped this plan worked better than the last three Sam had had before her privilege knocked her down a peg.

“Can I ask about, I don’t know, your time in Chicago at least?”

“Chicago is amazing,” Sam said, wistfully. “Being in Chicago, I mean, I’m sure you know how it is, it really makes it clear how backwater Amity Park is. The things people worry about here are so small compared to what’s out there!”

Danny just hummed in response. He didn’t exactly know what to say to that. It didn’t feel completely wrong, but it wasn’t right either. Worries weren’t a competition like that.

“And the bands!” Sam continued, thankfully changing the topic. “I have got to see so many amazing bands. The local scene alone is amazing and no one knows about them so you can be right up close and a lot of times even talk to the band after. You should come for a show sometime.”

“I can try to,” Danny said. Sam’s music wasn’t usually his thing, but something like that might be fun. It would be different at least. Danny gave her a little smile. “Maybe Tucker could make it out too.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “You know he won’t. When was the last time you talked to him not on the computer or the phone? He’s only here at Christmas when you aren’t.”

“You know how I feel about Christmas, Sam,” Danny said, holding back a sigh. Sure Tucker had been busy lately and that had made him more distant, but he was still one of their trio. “And if we plan something then Tucker can schedule for it. Don’t count him out just because he’s busy.”

“Alright, fine, we can plan something for a bigger show with Tucker,” Sam agreed, “but you still need to come out to something local. They’re really better anyways. We’ll go out to eat first and hit up a bar or three after. I know some really great places— places like you’ve never seen.”

Sam reached up and wrapped her hands around Danny’s neck, pulling him down a little. “It can be a date.”

Something in Danny balked at that. It was an innocent enough comment. Sam and him had dated and then not and then dated again or just had fun together. They’d known each other so long that it was easy to just ebb and flow out of the different levels of a relationship like that.

This time, though, Danny found himself resisting the tide. “Or we can just hang out.”

The almost dreamy smile Sam had crumpled into a frown. “What? I mean, sure, it can, but why? Are you seeing someone?”

“Yes? No? I mean, I’ve been… sleeping with someone, but we’re not dating or anything.”

“That’s okay,” Sam said easily. “I’m not going to make you be exclusive. I don’t want to be either right now; we’re not around each other enough for that and You know that I’ve been sleeping with my roommate sometimes and I’ve met a cute person in study group now too with amazing fingers.”

“No, I know, just…” Danny gave a frustrated noise. Nightwing and him weren’t even close to being exclusive. Someone like Nightwing could have anyone they wanted and with how much he liked sex, Danny was pretty sure Nightwing did have whoever he wanted. Danny was just… convenient for the hero side and Danny didn’t begrudge the other that. It was convenient for Danny too. It was just…

Danny didn’t want to keep living the same cycle with Sam where he was her world for a few weeks or months and then just back to an occasional phone call. He didn’t want to keep being pulled back to Amity Park. Maybe meeting her in Chicago would be different enough, but Sam was still so tied to Amity and always would be by her parent’s money.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this again,” Danny said slowly, feeling the words out as he said them. “Maybe it’s time just to leave us dating in the past?”

Sam dropped her hands and sat up. “Excuse me?”

Danny rubbed at the back of his neck. “Just, we’ve tried being together in a lot of different ways and we always end up in the same place.”

“So you want to leave me in the past?”

“No!” Danny said quickly, trying to get ahead of this before Sam spiraled too badly from making assumptions. “I’d love to come to Chicago and see a band with you! Just… not as a date.”

“Because you want to leave that in the past,” Sam snapped and got up off the bed.

Danny scrambled off also.

“That’s not a bad thing. I enjoyed it and I know you did too. Just more, okay, maybe that wasn’t the best phrase? I mean maybe we shouldn’t go down that road again when we know where it’s going to end.”

Sam crossed her arms. That was never a good sign. “Right, because I’m always going to be a dead end, is that it? Not like you who’s off playing hero with the big names?”

“What? What does me being a Titan have to do with this?”

“Don’t play dumb, Danny, we both know you’re not. You left to go be a famous hero and hardly looked back at Amity Park or me or Tucker or your parents. What if the town needed you?”

Danny threw his hands up in the air. “Why would they need me? I destroyed the portal, came to an agreement with Vlad, made sure my parents couldn’t build another working one— it fixed everything!”

“And then left.”

“So I could help other people!”

“Sure it wasn’t so that you could be famous?”

Danny closed his mouth with a clack.

Sam winced at her own words. “Danny…”

“No.” Danny backed up a few steps from her. “No. You don’t get to— you of all people don’t get to come at me like that! I never wanted to be a hero, Sam! You’re the one who said I needed to protect Amity and you were right, sure, but it’s never what I wanted! You wanted it!”

“Danny, no—” Sam reached out for him and Danny stepped back again, hitting the wall.

“Yes you did, Sam! You did or I never would have had to die a second time after your wish! I lost everything again! I don’t have a future like you and Tucker, I just have being a hero. I just have being dead.”

“Come on Danny,” Sam tried. She moved close again, slowly, like Danny was some sort of feral animal.

Maybe he really was just a caged beast.

“I’m just— I better go. I’m just going to go,” Danny said. In a flash of light he was back to being Phantom. He let himself tip back and phase through the wall.

As he left Amity Park behind, he couldn’t help but think it really said something that he was far more comfortable being Phantom these day than Danny.

--

AN: Here's yous all voted on treat for the day! This comes before Danny showing up at Dick's door, quite upset.

[suzukiblu]

Thank-you sentences for quietellen; Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good! (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“. . . oh,” Billy says, and blinks at him instead. Huh. “Wow, that is so much more than they charge at the ER. Or even for like, fertility treatments and stuff.” 

What a weird thing for Cadmus to have told Lynn, though. 

Lynn blinks too, looking startled. Billy doesn’t know what was startling about that? Unless maybe Lynn doesn’t really know much about monetary value yet scale-wise, anyway, or like, maybe Cadmus just didn’t explain how stupid health insurance is and all the stuff it doesn’t cover. Or maybe they did and were pricks who don’t know how to vote in their own self-interest about it, which is also maybe a concern, considering. 

Probably he should explain insurance to Lynn later, yeah. And maybe healthcare. Like, obviously the League’ll deal with it if Lynn ever gets sick, because Lynn is Kryptonian and therefore a regular hospital probably couldn’t deal with it if he ever got sick, but also it’s better if he knows that kind of thing. Just like–so he understands, Billy means. Gets where the people he’s saving are coming from, and what kind of stuff they’re dealing with. 

It’s important, getting that kind of thing. 

“I count as a real kid to you,” Lynn says for . . . some reason, his voice stiff, and Billy–blinks, again, and tilts his head. Lynn’s face is back to blank, but even blank-faced, he kind of still looks tense and uncomfortable. Superman doesn’t look like that when his face is–well, no, actually, Superman’s face doesn’t really go blank, does it, Billy realizes. He’s always got something showing, emotionally speaking. 

That’s kinda weird, come to think, because Billy also doesn’t really think of Superman as someone who’s, like, super-open or anything? Like, he shows a lot of emotion and stuff, Billy guesses, but Billy doesn’t really know anything about him. Mostly people don’t, as far as he can tell. 

Also, he can’t really think of all that many times he’s seen Superman showing a negative emotion, now that he is thinking about it. Like, a few times during really bad fights or after some really awful thing Superman clearly blamed himself for, but not like, just day-to-day. Superman doesn’t ever seem to be impatient or cranky or in a bad mood, like, ever. 

That’s . . . weird, yeah. Huh. 

But also, more importantly–

Billy frowns to himself, and then frowns a little deeper and tilts his head a little more. Looks at Lynn and all his tension and discomfort and negative emotions, and . . . 

“You definitely count as a real kid to me,” he promises him again, because he’s probably going to have to promise that a few times before Lynn really believes it anyway, and he’d kinda figured that out already. “You’re my real kid.” 

Those are both probably things Lynn’s worried about, he figures. Being somebody’s real kid, and being a real kid at all.

[it-was-summer]

The Very First... Second... Third Night

A/N: Hey guys, happy fall!!! Fun fact about me, I love Season one reid so much it's not even funny. That's pookie!!!!! Anyways, enjoy this little fluffy cute thing I wrote in a romance-infused haze (I saw that photo of MGG in that pumpkin sweater at knott's berry farms and I needed Spencer in a Halloween way). MAYBE some porn coming soon idk man. Love you all!!-Em <3

Link to the Ao3: The Very First... Second... Third Night ->Link to the: Yee olde masterlist Tags: Can't remember if I use any female pronouns for reader, but warning just incase. Season one reid, MENTION OF JEID, SPENCELLE, AND bisexual Reid, Spencer reid being critical of himself, Spencer's POV for the most part, jello mentioned guys, Overstimulated Spencer Reid at a football game, mention of a cemetery, mention of Nosferatu (1922). Kind of proofread, yippie!!!

Genre: Fluffy meet cutes. Pairing: Season One! Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader.

Plot: Spencer runs into you twice before but only manages to get your name (and number) the third time.

Word Count: 3,863

First Meeting

Spencer can’t remember the last time this bookstore was so crowded. Personally, he tried to go on early Sunday mornings to avoid the crowds– if any– that came into the shop. Maybe he was being overdramatic. There couldn’t have been more than twenty people in the store with him. But it was still twenty too many. He softly apologizes to the elderly woman as he squeezes past her in the narrow nonfiction aisle. 

Most of the crowd seemed to be hovering around the fiction area, which was fine with him– the further away, the better. With his head turned to watch the small crowd bustle about the store, he didn’t notice the person standing just inches from him in the aisle. 

You stared at him with a confused expression for a second, thinking surely this man would move eventually. But the moment never came. He was tall with brown hair and long eyelashes. He had the fashion sense of a teacher– correction, teacher’s assistant. You clear your throat softly, hardcover clutched in hand as you watch the man’s head snap over to you, his cheeks flushing red. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t see you. Not that you’re hard to miss– I mean in a good way, you’re–” He closes his mouth and swallows hard, looking into your gentle eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

You would have felt a little agitated if he hadn’t seemed so earnest, but this man oozes social anxiety, and your heart takes pity on him. Your lips move to a slow smile, and you whisper a sweet, “That’s alright,” 

Spencer’s sure he’s never seen kinder eyes, “It’s just so busy today. I was looking at the crowd,” 

Your head turns at that, allowing Spencer to take in your features. A light sweater to accommodate the cool air this early-October morning, some Halloween earrings that make Spencer smile, and stunning eyes. “Book signing pop-up, it’ll be crazy until three. At least that's what the stock girl told me.” You’re soft-spoken, too. Spencer can appreciate that.

He nods slightly, looking down at the hardcover in your hand and then over at the crowd again, “Are you not here for the book signing?” 

“Afraid not,” You sigh as you hold up a historical fiction novel, “Me and my historical fiction novel were going to take a gander at some biographies.” 

He can’t help his peaked interest as he licks his lips, “Regarding?” He’s a fan of history himself and is always happy to interact with someone who also shares a love for it. He feels slightly less anxious talking about something he knows.

You twist your lips to the side like you’re silently debating whether or not you should tell him. You look away for a second, your eyes scanning the bookshelves on either side of you. “Salem Witch Trials.” You answer him bluntly. 

Spencer nods like he understands precisely what you mean, “Ah, the more humane witch trials.” It's a funny joke… to him, at least. 

But then your lips twitch upwards as you let out a quiet chuckle, “No burning for us, just rope and intense torture.” 

He feels electric, which is stupid because he shouldn’t feel excited over something as simple as someone joking with him, but he does. He’s been working on it upon Derek’s sarcastic request, and he can’t help but wonder if it is finally paying off now. 

Spencer feels the overwhelming urge to partake in what Garcia describes as ‘info-dumping ,’ but he bites his tongue as he settles on a simple question, “How come?” 

You shrug slightly as you look up at him. The bookstore light keeps making his eyes a soft amber, and you’re having a hard time looking away now. “Halloween tradition.” You watch his eyebrow furrow, raising a hand to explain yourself quickly. “My best friend and I each pick a historical event that is relatively macabre, and then we base our costumes around it and throw a party with a related theme. It’s... It’s stupid.” You say with a smile and a wave of your hand dismissively. 

Meanwhile, Spencer’s too busy thinking you’re the most extraordinary girl he’s ever interacted with. For the first time in his life, he’s desperate for an invite to a stranger’s party—a pretty stranger who has yet to tell him her name. 

“That’s not-” 

A woman’s voice cuts him off as she barrels down the aisle with a grin, “There you are, oh…” Her blue eyes look Spencer up and down carefully, studying him. “Hello, there.” She’s direct and forward and speaks in a tone that tells Spencer to leave you the hell alone. 

He nods curtly, waving slightly at your friend. You sigh out with mock annoyance as you say, “He’s a friendly, put your gun away.” 

“I don’t believe in guns.” 

“They’re very real, trust me.” Is your sarcastic reply before looking at Spencer again. “Thanks for the company. I’ll see you around.” And just like that… you’re gone. 

Second Meeting

Spencer is sure he’ll never see you again, but here he is a week later, still thinking about you on a case. Or rather, he’s thinking about every woman ever and that he’ll never have a chance with any of them… ever. He’s feeling rather lonely, or maybe his self-esteem is taking a certain nose-dive this fine San Diego day. 

It’s not because it’s his birthday. He doesn’t hate his birthday like Elle hates hers– that’s what she told him once—the day started off great: the trick candles, the big birthday hat, his embarrassing crush on JJ. And now, they’re discussing the case, a routine he enjoys. 

His mind, always full of helpful information, quickly recognized the ballad from the 17th century– betwixt death and a lady. After his comment regarding what people could find by typing the word ‘death’ in the search engine, Derek’s laughing, “Reid, no wonder you can’t get a date.”

It sticks on him; he would love to let it slide off his back, but he’s not familiar with that kind of territory– dating, that is– so it hits a nerve. A nerve that Spencer didn’t know was so exposed. The worst part is that Derek’s not wrong. Spencer can’t seem to get a date. Not with the pretty intellectual at the bookstore, JJ, or Elle– though that last one feels strange to admit to himself. 

He’s too awkward, speaks too fast, and, according to Gideon, needs to relax more. He’s sure… he’s cute, actually, he doesn’t know if he is. All he knows is that his mind is brilliant, his skills involving women… not so much. 

He’s silently mulling it over as he approaches one of the bulletin boards, muttering lines of the ballad softly when JJ walks up beside him, “Creepy, huh?” Her voice makes him look at her, hesitating as he replies. 

“Actually, uh, conversations between death and his victims was a fairly popular literary and artistic theme throughout the Renaissance.” He’s staring at the bulletin for a second before glancing her away, and his cheeks feel hot when he sees the way JJ is looking at him– disinterest. “But, yeah, creepy.” 

He feels like a teenager, and all those years spent in college and not high school are coming back to bite him. He liked girls and boys, too. He should be better at this, he has an IQ of 187 and five degrees to prove it. Spencer walks away from the conversation quickly, his feet carrying him away from the embarrassing moment as quickly as possible. He needs to focus on the case. 

And focus he does. He’s happy to analyze the meaning of the ballads at the crime scenes, his anxiety calming as he settles into the sweet caress of facts. Feelings, beauty, and tastes were all subjective. The objective was his comfort zone.

So it stands to reason that he feels lighter after conversing with Gideon about why the UnSub would start to use the ballad if it wasn’t a part of his signature. However, after the team delivers the profile, his lightness returns to his ruminating thoughts surrounding his lack of social skills. 

The more he thinks about it, the more he feels the icy breath of repressed memories breathing down his neck. A jammed locker, missing gym clothes, a dark bathroom bolted shut. As the team waits for the UnSub’s suspected phone call to the tip line, he reaches for his bag to pull out a Rubix cube. 

His fingers quickly twist and turn it aimlessly until he feels like it’s mixed around enough for him to solve it again. Elle is sitting in a desk chair in front of him as he solves it. He wants to ask her if she’d ever consider dating him, if she thinks JJ would, or if she feels any self-respecting woman would. He doesn’t, though, the question sounding too desperate in his head to say it out loud. 

Instead, he asks, “Do you think it’s weird that I knew that ballad?” His eyes don’t stray away from the cube for too long as he asks it, scared of what Elle’s gaze might tell him. 

He’s pleasantly surprised when she chuckles and says, “I don’t know how it is that you know half the things you know, but I’m glad you do.” 

Spencer feels insecure when he speaks again, but he has to know the answer, “Do you think it’s why I can’t get a date?” He looks up at her now, waiting for the brutal blow, which is her answer. 

Elle looks slightly amused. “You ever ask anyone out?” She smiles a little, seeing the genius look genuinely dumbfounded for a second as he thinks about it. 

He never had the confidence to walk up to someone he found attractive and say something interesting enough to warrant a ‘yes’ if he asked them on a date. “No,” 

She gives him a slight shrug of her shoulders, “That’s why you can't get a date.” And Spencer seems to nod at that, and his lips tighten for a second as he nods before he looks away from her again. His focus is pulled back to the case when the UnSub calls, and for a little while, he feels better. 

On the flight home, he’s almost completely forgotten about his spiral as he plays chess with Gideon. When he hands Spencer a small present, a little smile plays on his lips as he says, “But you don’t give birthday presents.” When he finally gets the present open, he feels a little confused as he thanks Gideon for the generous gift– two VIP box seat Redskin tickets. 

He’s excited, nonetheless, to experience something new with Gideon, and Spencer believes him when he says that Spencer will love it. 

“We are. You’re coming with me, right?” Spencer asks with a slight grin.

Gideon smiles, “No.” he doesn’t let Spencer’s confusion build for long as he quickly adds, “Someone else on the plane is a huge skins fan.” 

“Who?” 

“Only person in the world who calls you Spence.” 

Speaking of the only person in the world that calls him Spence, the date was going terribly. She had invited Penelope; she thought it was a group thing. He begged Hotch and Gideon for some pointers, anything. They reminded him she was already his friend, but that wasn’t very helpful. He knew how to talk to her on a typical day. On a date? Not so much.

Then, she invited Penelope. Now he’s stuck on a date where only one person in the group knows it was supposed to be a date, and he feels nauseous. He’s trying to keep a conversation going, but every time it picks up for a second, he feels himself fumble the metaphorical ball, and it dies again. 

Eventually, he excuses himself to get some air. He’s debating calling Gideon and updating him on how it’s going. His feet pace on the concrete stadium floor. He’s near the elevators, and he can barely hear himself– it’s auditory overload hell. He shuts his eyes tight, stuffing his phone back into his pocket as he covers his ears, leaning against the cool wall beside the elevators. 

It’s all muffled, barely helping, but the feeling of the cool wall on his back through his clothes helps relax him slightly. His shoulders relax briefly before he feels two fingers lightly tapping his shoulders, and he’s rigid again. 

Rigid until his eyes snap open to see that it’s you. You from the bookstore, with that same kind smile, same dazzling smile, it is you. You’re yelling over the shouting, but he can barely hear you. You laugh. He can only tell by your facial expression as all the sound falls deaf to his ears over the crowd's yelling. 

Once it calms down, you repeat yourself, “Are you alright?” 

He nods, then you’re giving him a skeptical look, and he slowly shakes his head. 

“Is it the noise?” 

A part of him wants to tell you that it’s everything he is experiencing today, but instead, he whispers a soft “Yes.” 

You twist your lips to the side, looking upset for him. Your empathy is so sweet and pure for him that he feels the knot in his chest unraveling slowly. “Let me buy you a water?” You offer, motioning to a concession stand a few steps away. 

He doesn’t remember saying yes, but you’re grinning as you walk with him to the stand and buy the two of you a bottle. After a sip or two, you say, “I’m not the biggest fan of football games either. My dad loves em’.”

He nods along silently, feeling so socially overwhelmed that he barely has the energy for more conversation. You seem happy to fill the gap: “I ran into you at that bookstore on 8th, right?” 

Spencer’s beaming as he pulls the bottle away from his lips, nodding, speaking for the first time in a while. “Yes.” 

You let out a happy hum, “Small world,” And Spencer agrees with you silently. 

It's the most comfortable he’s felt all week, and he wonders if maybe this failed date of his was a strange blessing in disguise. He’s about to ask for your name when Penelope approaches the two of you, blinking starstruck at Spencer and you as she introduces herself when the crowd begins to cheer again. Any noise he can hear is drowned out, frowning as you shake Penelope’s hand and say your name– a name he cannot hear. Some more words follow, but it's all small talk until you excuse yourself to return to your father in the stands. 

Then he’s the one being dragged away from you, convinced once more that he’ll never see his pretty stranger ever again. 

Third Meeting

It’s the night before Halloween. Ask anyone who knows Spencer; they will tell you he genuinely loves Halloween. It’s a part of him, always has been. He likes that you can dress up as anyone you want to be without judgment. He loves the build-up, the history, and the scents that fill the air. 

So, when he manages to get the night off, he’s quick to try and convince someone from the team to head over to a cemetery not too far from headquarters. Even when he explains how it is for a classic horror movie showing on the graveyard’s lands, everyone declines. 

Now, he’s setting up an oversized quilt on the soft grass, smoothing out the edges of the oversized quilt with his hands before sitting down on it. His hands move to his bag, pulling out a few of his favorite snacks, drinks, and so on as he watches the cemetery slowly fill up with people. 

He’s happy. He feels a little strange at the thought, but he’s happy– even if it is in the middle of a cemetery. 

A gentle voice cuts through the soft quiet of the graveyard, “I knew I was going to run into you sooner or later,” 

He turns his head to look at you, picnic basket and blanket in hand. You smile down at him. He trips over himself as he stands, his cheeks flushing as you laugh at the sight. He rubs his suddenly sweating hands on his button-up as he reluctantly offers you his hand to shake, only to realize that you don’t have a hand available. 

“Can I—” he says softly, “Would it be alright if I—" he swallows hard, his voice cracking lightly. Do you need help with your things?” 

You glance down at your hands, smiling slightly as you shake your head politely. “I’m sure I can find a good spot soon. I didn’t mean to disturb you.” 

“You’re not, honest. I’m, uh, I’m here alone, and it doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes.” You silently debate his offer, and then Spencer feels a wave of confidence surge through him, “You can always sit with me if you’d like. I promise I’ll try to be quiet.” 

You seem to think that’s funny as you nod, “Well, it is a silent film.” 

“You don’t have to say yes. I just have a big blanket, and I’m in a good spot to see the screen and–”

“I’ll sit with you,” You cut him off softly, bending down to gently get the picnic basket on the edge of his quilt. Spencer moves out of your way, awkwardly shuffling for a second before he decides this might be a good time to introduce himself. 

“I’m Spencer.” 

You glance up at him as you move to sit on the blanket, smiling as you tell him your name. He licks his lips nervously, nodding as he sits beside you. His nervous eyes dance over your figure as you set your blanket, which he now sees has little cartoon ghosts all over it, to the side of your basket. 

You’re frowning slightly as you reach into the basket, pulling out a small cup of jello and a spoon. “I’m sorry. If I had known I was sharing a blanket with someone, I would have brought another cup.” 

Spencer finds it funny as he leans over to his satchel and pulls out his own cup of jello and spoon, “No need,” 

You laugh lightly as you raise your jello cup to his. “Cheers, then. " Spencer smiles lightly as the two of you tap the edges together for a moment before falling into a comfortable silence while eating jello. 

Spencer’s spoon digs into the jello, and he asks, “Is this your first time seeing Nosferatu ?”

You let out a soft hum as you pull your spoon out of your mouth and quickly nod, “Yes!” You say after swallowing, “What about you?” 

“Third.” 

“Didn’t remember it well enough the first two times?” 

He lets out a shy laugh at that— it feels strange for someone to be unaware of his eidetic memory, and he wonders how long that’ll last. “Not exactly. I guess just like Halloween.” 

“A man of good taste,” You quip back softly, taking a smiling bite of jello. 

Spencer laughs as his eyes watch your lips close around your spoon before he pulls them away to look into your eye, hoping you don’t notice as he stutters lightly. “That’s debatable.” 

You’re looking down at your half-eaten Jello cup. “I’m the judge here. I deem it a fact that you are a man of good taste. You’re wearing a cardigan. That’s how the judicial system works, don’t you know?” You look back at him with a smirk, and Spencer can’t help the chortle that escapes his throat. 

“That is not how the United States judicial system works, but thank you.” 

“Yeah, you look like someone who would know all the inner workings of the judicial system.” 

Spencer can feel his cheeks getting red at how your voice sounds—teasing and a little flirty. Oh my god, were you flirting with him? He’s sure he’s all smiles and red cheeks as he looks at you, changing the topic. “None of your friends wanted to come with you tonight?”

“No, not their scene. It’s okay, though. I’m making a new friend right now.” 

Spencer’s finishing off his Jello as he steals a glance at you again, stars in his eyes. “You don’t even know me.” 

“Sure I do. Your name is Spencer. You like jello, nonfiction, Halloween, and dressing like a teacher’s assistant.” 

Spencer doesn’t want to say you’re wrong, even though he knows you’re just being nice, but he doesn’t want to spend another week without seeing you. He wants to be your friend— he’ll be anything you want him to be. “Could I–” He licks his lips, eyes searching yours nervously. 

You watch him carefully, tilting your head to the side as you look into his brown eyes. The sun is gone now, but the rising moon is shining down on him. He seems so… gentle, like a deer in a quiet forest.  A part of you just wants to scoop him up and bring him home with you, as inappropriate as that is. 

“You wouldn’t have to– It’s alright if you say no. I was just thinking I could give you my number sometime, maybe.” He manages with a gentle huff of air. 

You nod a little, “Sometime, maybe.” You repeat with a slight grin forming on your lips. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the projector starting to play the movie, and a hush falls over the cemetery’s lawn. 

Spencer’s voice is a little too loud as he rushes to say, “I mean, now. Would it be alright if I–” A shush cuts him off, and his back straightens quickly as he shuts his mouth. His eyes meet yours for a second before darting over to the projection. 

You’re watching him again, how he’s staring at the screen like his life depends on it. You scoot closer to him, grabbing your folded-up blanket in the process. Once you reach his side, you drape the folded blanket around his shoulders carefully before doing the same to your own. 

His fingers gingerly grab one of the blanket's edges, casting you an apologetic glance for a second as your pants graze against his. You seem unbothered as you lean toward him. “I would love your number after this, " you whisper, looking up into his doe-like eyes before turning your head to watch the film. 

He’s beaming now as he stares at you, and his chest tightens slightly when you lean close to him again. You’re so close he can smell your perfume, the scent tangling with the sweet smell of crisp fall air. “You like costume parties?” Your voice is barely audible. 

He signals that he does silently, his head moving up and down quickly. The sight makes you grin as you mouth a silent, ‘Perfect’ at him before your attention is fully pulled back to the movie. 

Spencer feels warm all over for the rest of the night, and three months from now, he’ll start to believe three is a lucky number as he picks you up for your third date with him and just how perfect everything feels when he kisses you. 

[thewulf]

Not Just Pals || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - Hello darling! I have a request for you if you don't mind... It's a hangman x fem! Reader pen pals to friends to lovers kind of thing. Like maybe when he was in the academy someone put his name in this program to write to college students but joke on them because he got paired with reader and they hit it off almost instantly... Read Rest Here

A/N: Whew! This one was for whatever reason really tough to write! I changed it up a little bit but I hope you guys still enjoy it. :)

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.9k +

T/W : Self-doubt

October 9th, 2014

Hi There Y/N,

I’m not sure how you’re really supposed to start one of these things? How are you supposed to go about talking to somebody you’ve literally never met before? Although the Navy/Army pen pal thing could be interesting. I’ll be honest, my buddy signed me up and I didn’t think I’d actually write anything down but then I got the email with your name on it, Cadet Y/N Y/L/N. Consider myself intrigued.

What’s it like up in New York? Is it cold? Do you get a lot of snow? It gets awfully cold down here in Maryland, so I have to imagine how cold it gets up there. I’m from Texas so I’m still adjusting to this weather… four years later. It’s not easy. I think it’s the hardest part of living in the northeast. I’d rather run a marathon with a thirty-pound pack on than sit outside in the snow for more than twenty minutes. I hope to get stationed somewhere warm when this is all set and done.

Your ‘about me’ says you’re going into the Air Defense Artillery after West Point… which is the exact opposite of what I’m doing. Consider myself doubly intrigued Cadet. What do you do? Fire missiles and rockets at jets? That can’t possibly be as much fun as firing them when you’re in the air. It’s cool just not nearly as cool as what I do, know what I mean? Maybe a close second though.

Have you even been in a jet before? I bet you’d like it. I obviously don’t know you, but I haven’t met many people who didn’t like it. There’s something so freeing about flying 1,000 miles per hour in a tiny silver tube. You should try it sometime. If this whole thing works out maybe I’ll even take you up one day, who knows?

I guess that was my attempt at 20 questions. Hopefully you didn’t find it too annoying. Hope to hear back from you soon!

Jake Seresin

November 23rd ,2014

Hello Future Lieutenant Jake Seresin,

I’m thrilled you actually decided to write. I’m glad my name was all you needed to pick up that pen. I have to admit you made me giggle a few times. You seem effortlessly funny Mr. Seresin. Even for a soon-to-be Pilot.

I find it comical you’re asking me about the weather of all things, Midshipmen. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do on an awkward first date? But to answer your question, yes it’s cold as all get out up here. But I’m from Indiana so I’m used to it. Doesn’t mean I didn’t wish West Point wasn’t in Georgia or something. Why’d they have to put all the Military schools in the north?

What was it like growing up in Texas? Did you ever see snow? One of my favorite memories from this place is watching my roommate (who’s from Florida) see and play in snow for the first time. She froze her ass off but had the day of her life. She also hates snow now. So, it looks like you warm people have that in common.

To sum it up I guess you can say we fire rockets and missiles. My professors always say, ‘If it sounds like rocket science, it is’. Basically, we need to protect the ground troops from the flying bastards aka you. Although we do love our American flying bastards. So, I guess that doesn’t knock you down too many pegs in my book. Do you think they matched us up because our jobs are the antithesis of the other? If so, somebody had a hilarious sense of humor.

I’ve never been in a jet, and I have no plans to either. I don’t think I’d enjoy it if we’re being honest. You’re talking to the girl who gets sea-sick on cruises and had to take a motion pill if we’re going to an amusement park. My lil brain can’t handle the motion. A character flaw as they say. I also have a sense that you wouldn’t go to easy on me, being Army and all. I’ll stick to my calculations and rockets.

Don’t tell anybody I wrote this, but I do think what you guys do is so badass. I work with a bunch of jealous Cadets who couldn’t make it into the Army Aviation division, they’re just bitter. When I was little my dad used to take me to the Blue Angels shows in Chicago whenever they made their way across the States. Kind of the reason why I wanted to be in the military in the first place. But only my dad knows that. And well, I guess you now too. So, keep my secret safe Mr. Seresin.

I know the weather is less than desirable, but I do hope you’re finding things you love in Annapolis! There are some of the best crab cakes I’ve ever had there.

Thanks for the smiles after a long week!

Your New Friend,

Y/N Y/L/N

February 16th, 2015

Future Second Lieutenant Y/N Y/L/N,

That has a right to it doesn’t it? Your name sounds good with a Second Lieutenant in front of it. Sorry it’s been so long since I wrote. Getting busy with graduation coming up and practical’s and all. It’s a lame excuse I know, but it’s all I got. I hope you know how big I smiled reading your letter to me. I read it about fifty times before I could write a decent response to you. You have a way with words that I haven’t read in a long, long time.

Was your father in the military? None of my family was. I also loved the Blue Angels when they came down to Houston for the air shows. I’d always beg and plead and finally my mom or sister would give in and take me. They’re also the reason I’m here. So, I guess we should thank them that we got to meet. Neither you nor I would be in these academies without them. Your secret is locked away in the drawer and safe in my head too. It’s super safe with me.

I’ll be honest, the food here is so damn good. I sure do miss my Texas barbeque, but the spread is better up over here. Plus, the snacks? I didn’t know there was different brands sold across the states and you guys have better girl scout cookies! That’s just not fair. I could’ve gone my whole life knowing that there were two versions of girl scout cookies and I got the worse version. I’ve enjoyed the move far more than I’ve regretted it. It’s the best thing I’ve ever done for myself. It doesn’t guarantee I’ll be a pilot, but it means I’m one step closer to getting there.

What all schooling do you have to do after you graduate this spring? Are you up for deployment soon? I’ve got a lot left to go. If I get picked after I’ve got a few years of flight school ahead of me. Then I’ll really be off. Wish me luck I make it!

With Love,

Jake

March 13th, 2015

Mr. Seresin,

I was getting worried! I thought it was something I had wrote. I’m glad it’s your negligence and not mine for the lack of communication. I forgive you though. It’s been stressful up here in New York as well. I luckily don’t have any practical’s I need to worry about. Just a few nuclear engineering classes are standing in between me and graduation.

I just have a year of Officer School (if I get selected that is) after this is all set and done come June. We have to apply this April so I’m getting a little anxious about the whole thing. I don’t really have a backup plan that I’d actually like to do so I really, really hope I get selected. Enough about me though, let’s talk about you. You’re going to get picked! Don’t let any bad thoughts get in between you and your goal. I think you’ll make a fine pilot Jake. You seem to have your wits about you which is the first step a lot of people miss.

My dad was in the Navy, like you. Don’t gloat though, it’ll ruin the finely crafted image I have of you. He was a deck hand or something like that. I wish I could ask him some more about it, but he passed when I was just thirteen. I just remember he loved being in the Navy. He loved everything about it. He made it seem like anything was possible with a passion.

I’m glad you’re enjoying the food and the girl scout cookies. It took me by surprise when I got Peanut Butter Patties instead of Tagalongs when I was down south for a winter. I’m so glad I grew up where the real GSC are sold.

I hope this letter brought you as much joy as yours brought me.

With the Same Love,

Y/N

(P.S. – Here’s my number if you’d like to text instead of write. No pressure!)

It had only been a week since you sent the last letter. Sure, you hadn’t really known the guy all too well but there was something so exciting about sending written mail. You felt like a little kid on Christmas waiting for a response from him. Who knew throwing your name in something so silly for your class would bring you so much joy.

You sat down on your desk setting your computer out front of you to study. Jake was right. It was an awfully busy time of the year. Applying for your future. Studying for you exams. When you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket you truly didn’t think much of it. It was only hours later when you finally closed the laptop shut that you went to check it that your face scrunched in confusion. You didn’t recognize the area code. It was then that it clicked that it could be him.

No pressure at all text! Hi there (it’s Jake).

You grinned reading it over and over again. That was quick! Maybe you made an impression? You sure hoped so. You hardly even knew what the guy looked like. You might’ve gone digging a little when you got his name. He was cute. Handsome even. But he seemed like that type. That arrogant pilot type. But even in just the two letters you received from him you got the hint that he wasn’t that type of guy at all.

I didn’t think you’d actually text me. It’s good to hear from you.

The messages between the two of you were infrequent at best as the semester ended. But he never failed to put a smile on your face. When you needed a pick me up you went through and read the messages that popped up.

On your graduation day you sent him a picture of you and a few friends in a cap and gown with the text: Beat you! You’re also looking at your newest Officer Candidate too!

You didn’t have to wait long for a reply. Your face only grew with glee seeing his response: Congrats Second Lieutenant. And future Captain. Knew you’d do it. You look beautiful as always.

Typing a quick reply, you hid your smile away just knowing your friends would make a stupid comment about the mystery man that always had you so smiley: You’re making me blush all the way up here in New York. I better get a picture next weekend when you do the same, future Lieutenant.

He came through on your request. When you got the text you could only smile. You spotted him in the picture immediately, your eyes drawn to him. He was so damned handsome. How lucky were you to get paired with a guy like that? Your smile grew further when you read the message: Lieutenant (and future pilot) Jake Seresin reporting for picture duty.

The messages occurred naturally between through the years as you were deployed, and he was in school. Some months you texted more and some you didn’t hear from him at all. It never bothered you. The silly little thing called life happened for both of you.

Still, the two of you often made time for phone calls when the time was right. The first time you talked on the phone you thought you were going to quite literally throw up you were so nervous. But in typical Jake Seresin fashion he made you feel cool as a cucumber. You talked and talked and talked into the morning. It felt so normal. Like you were catching up with an old friend. Jake Seresin. Who was this man that was making it hard to date? He was quite literally everything you wanted and needed in a partner. The universe had a funny way of working sometimes.

It had been six long years since you received that first letter from him. He was off on a mission now. A dangerous one he couldn’t tell you much about. But he wanted you at his arrival back home in San Diego and you promised him you’d be there. Assured him. That’s how you ended up in here pacing in the hotel room contemplating whether you should really go or not. It felt too intimate, like you were intruding. But he did say none of his family would be there, they had other things going on as the mission was a bit of a surprise to everybody. The pilots were all instructed to keep it as quiet as possible.

Your hands were shaking as you parked your car in the overcrowded lot. Gripping the steering wheel, you took a long breath in. You could do this. You had to do this. For him, for you. You stepped out of the car and made you way to the dock. The aircraft carrier was already docked by the time you got to the meeting site. You stood back and waited. Watched and waited. It felt like an eternity then finally the men and women started pouring out in their Navy Whites. You’d always thought they looked the sharpest of the bunch, but you’d never tell Jake that. He’d make fun of your Army uniforms or something like that.

It felt like both an eternity and seconds later that you spotted him amongst the crowd of sailors exiting the ship searching high and low for you. You promised you’d be there. And here you were. He either felt your eyes on him or had an uncanny sense of timing as his eyes locked with your own. His smile had melted you right there on the spot. You felt helpless as you willed your brain to move but it wouldn’t. You only began to panic a little as he moved with ease through the crowd making his way right to you.

He stood in front of you. Jake Seresin stood in front of you, much taller than you thought, “I knew I recognized you. First Lieutenant Y/L/N.” His eyebrows raised as you gaped at him with wide eyes as if he wasn’t really there. Closing your mouth, you knew you needed to pull it together but that sounded much easier said than done. Jake freaking Seresin, your pen pal was really standing in front of you in real life. He was more of enigma in your mind at this point. Somebody you could have deep life conversations with so easily but never having actually met the man it was hard for you to grasp he was really real. And standing in front of you.

“Jake.” You smiled hoping it sounded somewhat normal. He was so much more handsome than the photos he sent through the years. How was that possible? Wasn’t it supposed to go the other way? You continued once your head finally could form coherent sentences, “Well it’s actually Captain now. Got promoted a couple weeks ago.”

He turned his head to the side just slightly, “You didn’t tell me that.” Almost looking offended you hadn’t told him.

“Never felt like the right time to divulge. With this mission and all. Had to keep you locked in.” You looked up to him now studying his face as you gained more courage talking to him. He was something your dreams couldn’t make up.

He nodded not daring to take his eyes off you. He too thought you were even prettier than he could have envisioned. You’d sent pictures and he’d followed your social media, but nothing could’ve prepared him. Especially in your civilian clothes, he was a sucker already. Deep down Jake knew you were the reason he was so non-committal before. He was looking for somebody just like you and couldn’t find her. Yet here you stood in front of him. You were so funny and witty and smart, and yet he couldn’t put it all into words. You are the whole package and so much more.

“You still could’ve told me. We talked enough before I left.” He grinned seeing that the tension was already easing from your shoulders.

You shook your head, “Wasn’t about me Seresin. I just wanted you to stay focused and safe. And thank goodness you did.” You admitted a little more than you wanted, but he just made you feel so gushy. Like you were a sweeter version of yourself you could hardly recognize. And the words just kept flowing out when he gave you that look with those green eyes.

“Oh yeah?” He challenged you a bit sensing that you were starting to feel a bit more comfortable with him already, “Didn’t think you’d be so relieved darlin’.”

Ignoring the sweet term of endearment you shook your head, “And waste six years of my life on nothing? Jake that’s so inefficient. Of course, I want you safe.” The words came fast, and they were snarkier than you intended. But you truly couldn’t help it.  He had you relaxed within the first five minutes of talking to him. You felt like you could just be you.

He threw his head back in laughter. That same weight had lifted right off his shoulders when you snapped back at him like he was waiting on it, “There she is. My favorite mouthy girl.”

He said it so nonchalantly you thought your heart was going to combust on the spot. Your cheeks surely gave way to your reaction to his words. His favorite mouthy girl? Christ. He was trying to send you into a coma or something! Your brain quite literally short circuited as it failed to form any coherent sentence. He only chuckled in response seeing your cheeks heat up in a blazing blush.

“It’s so nice to actually see you in person. You know I’ve always told you this, but it rings even truer even now. You’re quite a stunner, Captain.” His eyes met yours before you looked away quickly feeling as though you were going to faint at those words. You weren’t sure how this interaction was going to go initially. But you really didn’t think he’d come right out and say that he found you stunning. The occasional letter and texts in between had grown flirtier the longer you had known him, but it never crossed your mind he’d be so outright with it.

You turned away out of sheer bashfulness. Never had a man been so bold with you before. It was foreign. Not uncomfortable, no. Nothing could be with him. He made it easier than seemed possible.

“You flatter me Jake.” You grinned up at him hoping your makeup would hide the darkening of your cheeks, “I should say the same for you. Handsome as ever.”

“Now you’re making me blush, Cap.” Sure as hell the faintest pink dusted his cheek, but he seemed much stronger than you. He kept the eye contact going.

You shook your head trying to bite back the big smile you had on your face, but it showed through anyway. How was he doing this? Making you feel so giddy just by looking at him. You knew this man but for the first time it actually felt like you might actually love him. You’d had the deepest conversations with him. When you needed a laugh you texted him. When you craved advice you called him. He was the guy you turned to. And it dawned on you that he never failed to answer you. He wanted to take your calls and answer your texts. He looked forward to it. He too had fallen for a woman he’d never met before.

You needed the change the subject and fast or more words would be tumbling out, “How was the mission? Everyone make it out okay?” You asked having no idea what you were getting yourself into. Jake hadn’t told you much about what they were doing, couldn’t tell you much. But now that it was over he couldn’t wait to tell you every nitty gritty little detail.

“I’ll tell you if you let me buy you a drink?” He gave you a smirk that sent nerves racing throughout your body. Jesus. This man was something else.

Giving him a curious once over you nodded, “Shouldn’t I be the one buying you a drink sailor? You coming home and all?”

“Absolutely not. I’ll never let you buy me a drink darlin’.”

Gosh, Jake was actually going to be the death of you. He was so good making his words come off so easily. You felt terribly high strung next to him, “And why not?”

“Because I’m trying to woo you sweetheart. When I get you to go on a date with me I have to impress you. Inevitably that’ll work and you’ll become my girlfriend. And I can’t have my girlfriend paying for my drinks, no. And it’ll only get worse when I get the pleasure of marrying you. If my wife thinks she’ll pay for a thing she had another thing coming.” He gleamed at you as if he didn’t just say all of that.

You gulped before a stupid smile grew on your face. Of course, you knew he was forward but again, he just took you on an entirely new adventure with that statement, “That’s quite a bold statement Jake.”

He shrugged, “I thought I should make my intentions perfectly clear. I think you’re one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. And you’re perfectly you. Sharp as tack. Funnier than ever. You’re you. And I really like you.”

You let out a breath not sure if you really believed all of that, “So not just pals, huh?” It was all you could think of quickly but that did it for him. Sealed the deal. He knew he was going to marry you right then and there. You’d complete him in every way he needed you and vice versa.

He shook his head taking his arm in yours, “Not just pals.” Leaning into his gentle embrace you led him to your car where he would not let you drive. He insisted that it was a gentleman’s job even if he was only running off four hours of sleep. You’d appeased the man who was on his very best behavior. Not that you minded. Nope, not at all. You were thrilled that Jake was exactly who he seemed to be. Your Jake. Not just pals indeed.

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[wpdarlingpan]

Could we get something with Yandere ouat Peter? Preferably gender-neutral or nb reader.

An idea I had is maybe Hook has a kid, so the character would have grown up in Neverland. I think maybe a platonic Yandere Peter would be v interesting, where he maybe tries to interact with reader as a ‘cool older brother’ sort of figure, despite the fact that reader very much knows exactly who he is and that he’s dangerous. Romantic would be fine too though!

Thank you so much for the request! I apologize it took so long and I have not written in a while so I hope it's okay!

I loved this idea so I had to see how it'll play out. I did the platonic version and although I did use Y/N and made them gender-neutral, I wrote they were 17 for the story's sake. I often have Peter refer to them as a child because in his mind he feels the need to take care of and protect them.

I am considering a part two if people like this idea enough, maybe taking place when the Storybrooke residents arrive.

Warning: Yandere Behavior

Word Count: 2886

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

The Love Of A Brother

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

The day Killian Jones, otherwise known by his more colorful moniker Hook, came to Neverland was a day he would never forget.

He had many men aboard, each desiring to never grow old until they wished. They all had been warned about the dangers that lurk within the water and upon the soil of Neverland but the idea of dying from old age was a more terrifying feat to them.

However, one person had little choice in the matter, as they were still somewhat forced to come to Neverland.

Captain Hook's kid, Y/N.

After the day Mila died it was up to him to become a single parent. Overall he was rather good at it. Always telling stories so that they would be able to sleep at night or sitting by their bedside when they had gotten a cold. But, no matter how much love they held for each other, Killian could not stop going after the man who killed his wife and the mother of his child.

Y/N was 17 the day they had arrived in Neverland and would remain so until the day they left.

This was not a decision Hook made lightly. Bringing the person he cared for more than anyone into the hellish landscape wasn't something he'd wish on his worst enemy (other than Rumpelstiltskin) but the idea of leaving them with no idea when he would return hurt even more.

So he created the rules.

Do not leave the boat without permission.

Do not ever interact with Peter Pan or his shadow.

Avoid the Lost Boys.

"Who is Peter Pan?" They asked their father as the Jolly Roger settled after coming through the portal to Neverland.

"A bloody demon." He responded looking at the dark island as it neared.

Hook began telling the stories that he knew. Even sharing how he had met Peter Pan in the first place. Albeit leaving out what happened to his brother as he blamed himself as well as Pan for the tragedy.

Pan knew he was arriving on the island. Hook riskily contacted him through his shadow to come to a truce before being allowed to arrive on the island.

But there was a little thing Hook had forgotten to mention.

His child.

He had hoped that if none of the inhabitants of the island knew their relation, with Peter assuming they were deckhands or something, they wouldn't be targeted if Peter got bored or wanted to play a game.

But the resemblance was noticeable from the first meeting.

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

As the boat docked onto shore to make an initial supply run, Hook kept Y/N close. Half of the crew, including the two of them, walked carefully through the jungle, avoiding every thorn they came across.

But the real danger was just up ahead. After all, Peter Pan wouldn't be a polite host if he didn't welcome his guests.

The second the pirates entered a clearing they were surrounded by the sound of rustles as the leaves moved around the edge of the clearing and a figure appeared about 20 feet ahead on the other end.

Hook froze, he knew he should have expected him to show himself this early, but a part of him had hoped he wouldn't, not yet at least.

Y/N held onto their bow and arrows tightly as they observed the boy up ahead who looked just a little older than them. Judging by the way he held the spotlight, they had to assume this was Peter Pan.

"Look what we have here, I didn't expect to see you on the island this quickly. I mean after what had happened last time you were here, the idea of returning so willingly was unexpected, Captain." Peter spoke as he neared the group, the Lost Boys forming a circle around them to prevent anyone from running.

Peter inspected the group as they each held some form of weapon. Be it a dagger, sword, or even one with a bow and arrow.

He neared the one with the bow and arrow, the idea of figuring out what else made them so different lingered in his mind. Peter stood closely in front of them, studying their appearance and the subtle yet noticeable looks towards the direction of Hook.

This is when something had clicked.

His brain was no longer assessing the group as a whole or messing with the Captain. His thoughts were reserved for only them. The way they were trying to hide their shaking hands and the way they held onto the bow tighter the closer he got. The shine of their eyes as they looked at him almost like a frightened deer.

He could recognize a scared child anywhere and this time he didn't want it to be his fault. It was like an instinct of protection filled his black heart. Their fearful yet innocent gaze was embedded into his soul. Someone like this simply couldn't live with harsh pirates.

He reached a hand out towards them but Hook stepped in the way. His gaze was harsh yet Peter could easily detect the fear hidden in them. For himself or the child, he wasn't sure.

Peter smirked at Captain Hook as he realized why they had looked so familiar now seeing the similarities in their features and hair color. He had been to distracted by the odd feeling of protection and familiarity to even acknowledge the finding.

"You have a child? My you got busy after leaving last time." He teased as he glanced around the man to see them standing there, their gaze locked onto the ground.

"Stay away from them or so help me you will have wished-" Hook began to say before Peter cut him off.

"You'll do what? Let me remind you, you're here because I allow it. You eat the island's food only because I allow it. You only live because I have use for you yet." He threatened motioning his hand for the Lost Boys to run away.

Y/N took a sigh of relief as the group dispersed but their worry would still remain until Peter was out of their sight. The ideas of the horrors they were told, all of which could happen to them just by being in his presence, filled their anxious mind.

Peter stared at Hook seriously before sending a look and a playful wink toward Y/N, hoping to make them less afraid.

"I'll see you soon." He commented staring directly into their eyes before disappearing.

—————————

Apparently soon meant a few days.

It first began when Y/N was laying on deck, watching the stars when someone appeared next to them and laid down on the spare part of the blanket.

“The stars are beautiful aren’t they?” He spoke as if lying on the ground next to them wasn’t an unusual occurrence.

Y/N was silent, trying to hide the fact they were afraid. The unknowing was terrible, the idea that their father was fast asleep, probably passed out from exhaustion at that, was nerve-wracking as they could not call for help.

“You don’t need to be afraid of me.” Pan said genuinely, staring at the side of their face as he admired their courage to hide their fear.

“Why wouldn’t I be? You have a reputation you know. I’m sure you could get rid of me in a heartbeat.” Y/N was nervous now, it audibly showed through the small stutter that sounded in their sentence.

“That doesn’t mean I want to… Do you know why I’ve brought all these boys to the island?”

“Because they’re lost?”

“Because no one deserves to feel alone.”

Peter Pan believed that because Y/N was an only child who spent their whole life traveling the seas, that they had to be lonely. They are constantly moving and never staying in one place, let alone with people their age.

Then their father, he’s a pirate with a drinking problem who is so obsessed with revenge that even though he is protective and loves his child, Peter couldn’t tell you which the man valued more.

Revenge or love?

If Peter were to take her right now, he could be their older brother. Someone who takes care of their little sibling in the face of everything like heartbreak, anxiety, everything that would make them feel anything other than happiness.

Y/N would be his sibling. He’d be their only brother.

Being an older brother to Y/N sounded perfect to him.

—————————

Their next encounter was when they had been sitting on the edge of the beach as the Jolly Roger was anchored nearby.

Y/N's father had allowed them to hang out along the shore alone.

The captain and crewmates were planning on staying on the edge of the jungle that was Neverland. He had figured they would be okay for a couple hours and that he could hear if they needed anything.

He knew the dangers that posed leaving them there alone but he thought they would be cornered again the second they entered the tree line so there really wasn’t anywhere ‘safe’ at the moment.

That’s how he rationalized it at least.

But when Peter saw them sitting alone on the shore, the mermaids moving closer by the second, he saw Hook as irresponsible and unfit to care for Y/N.

He quickly approached them, the sight of him causing the mermaids to swim away quickly, realizing that was not someone they wanted to lure in.

“Y/N.” Peter said as he approached, sitting in the sand next to them.

“What are you doing?” They spoke questioningly “I thought you would be bothering my father and his crew.”

“Is that what he counted on. Me leaving you alone as they frolicked or whatever they are doing in the jungle? Is that why he left you here defenseless?” He replied getting more confident that Killian wasn’t fit to take care of Y/N.

“I don’t like what you’re accusing him of.” Y/N replied, glaring at Pan in front of them but if anything it was adorable.

He raised his hands jokingly as if he actually felt threatened by them.

“I’m just saying, he knows the dangers of this island. If it’s not me, it’s the lost boys, then the Dreamshade, and as you almost realized, the mermaids.” Peter counted off making Y/N realize what the subtle splashing noise they heard was. “He shouldn’t have left you alone.”

“I’m 17. I can take care of myself for a few hours.” They argued, much like if they were telling their older sibling they didn’t need to be babysat.

“Sure you can. But you don’t need to when I’m here.”

———————-

From then on he would appear randomly whenever he knew Y/N was alone.

When they weren’t, he was silently protecting them from the shadows.

If we’re sketching in their room? He’d sit next to them silently, allowing them to focus. Meanwhile he was busy admiring their skills even if it was a simple picture of the sky.

They volunteered to go look for some more supplies on the island?

They mysteriously got separated from the group for a few hours.

He took them saying ‘I can take care of myself for a few hours’ rather literally. In those few hours, they got an entire tour of the main points of the island.

Even the camp.

Peter had them sit on his designated chair, introducing Y/N as their little sibling. Each of the boys came up to them and introducing themselves enthusiastically as the proposed all the fun games they could play if they were to stay.

Even when Y/N emphasized greatly that they couldn’t.

Each and every time.

When their birthday came around Peter gifted them a necklace, his initials were on the inside, to protect them from anyone who finds their way to the island.

Although he made sure to use his magic to conceal the necklace from the eyes of Hook.

Not that he cared about what the man thought, after all nothing would keep him from his little sibling.

Nothing.

-----------

The day Peter had been preparing for came sooner than expected.

Hook had discovered a way to kill the dark one and his need for the island was gone. Meaning it was time to return back to the enchanted forest.

The crew had begun preparing to return back to the forest. Packing up their supplies and strapping down anything they had on deck to prepare for traveling through the portal.

Y/N was packing up anything loose in their room. They had mostly finished other than having to pack the rest of their art supplies.

“So you were just going to leave and not tell your older brother? I'm offended” Peter spoke appearing in their room and sitting on their bed.

In their deal, he had allowed Hook to leave once he had found a way to accomplish his goal.

That was before he had met Y/N.

“I was never going to say in Neverland. I was always going to leave. I don’t know what you were expecting.” Y/N spoke harshly trying to push him away.

They had to admit, after all this time spent with Peter, that it was hard to view him as some irredeemable demon. He comforted them when they had nightmares of their mother’s death, protected them from the mermaids, did their favorite activities with them (even if he was not really invited), and seemed to love them.

Peter knew they were just trying to protect themself from the pain of leaving so they lashed out. He could tell they were saddened at the thought of leaving him. This made him feel warm inside.

Y/N assumed they’d be fine once leaving Neverland, they would have to forget about Peter Pan and their life would go back to normal, well as normal as it gets.

Suddenly they heard approaching footsteps.

“Y/N? Are you ready to go? We are about to enter the portal now.” Killian called through the closed door, his eagerness to leave the island covering the fact that there was a muffled sound as he spoke. Hook was ecstatic, his time for revenge had come. His head was in the clouds as he ran over his plan over and over again. Causing him to not even think to just poke his head in to check on his child, just of the idea that the portal was closing any minute

The muffled noise was Peter whispering that he would not let Hook leave if they said anything other than that they were ready.

Y/N knew if they weren’t allowed to leave, their father would be devastated.

“Yes father, I’m ready!” They called back and the two listened as the man’s footsteps grew farther and farther away.

“You can’t leave Y/N. You’re my little sibling, I have to take care of you.” He spoke manipulatively the second Hook was out of distance.

“I have to. If it’s up to me, I’ll never leave my father. He raised me, he loves me! He will take care of me better than you ever can.” Y/N retorted, frustrated at the situation. Why wouldn't Peter just go away? They knew they cared for him, even just a little bit. But their father was very important to them. Even if he had been a little distracted while searching for revenge, they didn't feel his love any less.

A loving father or a over protective, self-proclaimed brother.

They knew which had meant more. They had made their choice, one they couldn't vocalize as Peter softly blew poppy dust into their face, causing them to pass out instantly.

“Then it isn’t up to you.” as he spoke “This is for your own good. I love you Y/N and I know you love me. You are better off at my side.”

He picked them up bridal style as he and Y/N disappeared off the boat and reappeared in the camp. All of their stuff appears on the ground off to the side of them.

"Welcome to your new home, Y/N"

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

Hook had gone to Y/N’s cabin to check on them, the portal closing behind him as they could see the Enchanted Forest off in the distance.

He was eager to see his child, wanting to celebrate the idea of finally being able to avenge his wife and their mother. Hook knocked and didn’t hear an answer assuming they had been disoriented or hurt by the portal, he opened the door quickly.

But, he was met with an empty room and no Y/N.

He looked around for any signs frantically before he spotted a letter on the bed.

Hook,

You were always too focused on the idea of revenge that you neglected what was in front of you. You never deserved Y/N and you never will. Each time you left them alone, I was there. I comforted them, I protected them, and I loved them. Each thing is something you couldn't do while you searched for something you did not even know existed. Y/N will be better off without you.

I always wondered if you'd choose revenge over love.

I guess I have my answer.

Their brother,

Peter Pan

[youknowwho-mustnotbenamed]

December 13 - Hot Chocolate | word count: 996 | @wolfstarmicrofic

Sirius hates when other people are in pain.

Maybe it’s just a trauma response from his childhood and having to see Reggie in pain, but now, even when somebody around him is even the slightest bit uncomfortable, he will go out of his way to remedy that. Which is why, as soon as he suspected about Remus being a werewolf, he did as much research into the topic as he could. He learned everything Remus refused to tell them.

About the aches and pains werewolves suffered both before and after the full moon—some experienced the antsy wolf worse than others, and sadly, Sirius suspected Remus was one of them. About how they feel a chill in their bones that won’t thaw—Remus generally goes about the castle wearing as many jumpers as he can pull over his head. About how they feel repulsive and think others feel the same—he knows well about the paranoia. He learned about how they find comfort in things that remind them they are human—physical touch, comfortable clothes, their favorite foods, people they recognize—so Sirius does as much as he can to give Remus those without overstepping boundaries.

Which is why right now, he is balancing a nearly overflowing mug of hot chocolate up from the kitchens. Under his other arm is an enchanted blanket with an intricate heating charm that doesn’t just warm the skin, but deeper inside the body as well—he had to seek out Regulus’ help for this one—as much has he hates to admit it, Regulus is far better at advanced spells than anybody else he knows.

Remus returned to the dorm room just a few hours ago now, leaving Sirius with the complicated task of slipping through the common room, uninterrupted, and untouched. Luckily, the others seem to recognize the Black scowl, and pull away. As much has he hates resorting to using the power his family has, he won’t hesitate to use it if it means Remus feels himself again.

Because Sirius can’t stand the long silences, the blank stare, the shivers, the distancing, any of it. He needs Remus in his life like he needs his lungs to breathe. Inseparable, necessary. If Remus leaves, simply because he thinks himself too much of a burden, Sirius is certain he will fall apart. Which he knows is an odd thought for a thirteen-year-old, but he can’t help the way he feels.

“Hey, Rem.”

“Sirius?” He croaks in surprise. Sirius can also see the way he forces his body to relax, trying not to show an ounce of pain on his face. But the slight crinkle around his eyes and the stiffness of his limbs gives him away.

“I brought something for you.”

“You did?”

“Of course. Here.” Kneeling on the bed, he wraps the blanket around Remus, whose eyes blink open wide in surprise. He knows exactly how it feels—he tested it himself to make sure it worked properly—like a warm hug. Physical touch, check. Warmth, check. Remus is already wearing his favorite jumper, check. His favorite food, modified slightly to help ease the cold, check. Somebody he recognizes, check.

“Oh.” He accepts the mug, and immediately takes a sip. “Oh, this is delicious. Where did you get it?”

Suddenly, the blanket under his twiddling fingers is far more interesting. “I owled your mum. I know you mentioned how much you love her hot chocolate, and I figured with… everything, that you would appreciate a little bit of home right now.”

“I…”

He finally looks up, only to find a devastating sight. Remus is crying. That defeats the purpose of everything he was trying to do. He should be smiling right now, forgetting about the pain and returning to himself, to Sirius’ Remus.

“Why are you crying? Did I do something wrong? I’ll—”

“You did this for me?” Remus chokes out.

“Yeah, of course. Why not?”

“Because…. Because… why?”

“I… um… I know.”

“You know? Know what?”

“I know that you… I know—I know where you were three nights ago.”

“I was in the hospital wing. You know I get sick a lot, Sirius.” He is trying to seem casual, but Sirius can catch the slip of panic in his tone.

“You weren’t there, Rem. I went to check in on you, but you weren’t there.” He can sense Remus’ entire body go stiff. He can tell, that this moment, right here, right now, is what determines their future. Will Remus turn away and leave him alone, or will he fight the paranoia and acknowledge that Sirius accepts him as he is. “It’s alright. I know you think you are a burden, but you aren’t. You are the best person I have in my life, and I couldn’t imagine losing you.”

“But… but I’m a monster.”

“So is my mother, but I’m not afraid of her.”

“Sirius—”

“I’m being serious here. I know, and I’m not afraid. I’ll help you in any way I can.”

“How did you find out?”

“I’m good at reading people.” He shrugs. “I also hate to see other people in pain if there is something I can do to help.”

“Do the others know?”

“Nah. It’s your secret to tell, and I’ll support you whether you want to tell them or not.”

“Thanks, Sirius. You are the best friend I could ask for.”

For whatever reason, Sirius’ heart aches at the word friend. It is so insignificant. He always hated these labels people stick on their relationships to help make them make sense. His mother is hardly his mother if she locks him in closets and invades his mind, Professor McGonagall, is more of a mother to him, but he can never label her as such because of “societal norms” or whatever. And yes, Remus is his friend, but he is so much more, Sirius isn’t sure there is a label for it.

But still, he smiles, “Of course, Rem.”

Friends.

[thisonehere]

Can you write about yandere MK1 Kuai Liang getting jealous of female reader and Smoke's growing relationship and kidnaps the reader to try to convince her they are meant for each? (Maybe a bonus scene where Tomas goes to save her)😁

Yandere!Kuai x Reader

A/n: Oooo that's pretty dark...love it! I never really did a gull on yandere fic so this should be interesting lol

Tags: Request, Drabble, Mk AU, NSFW, Yandere

C/w: things get kinda dark, Kidnapping, light torture, starvation, vomiting, violence, happy(ish) ending

"Please, you have to understand...this is the best for you."

Kuai assured you as he tightened the ropes around your wrists. He had asked you to come into a private room with him, he said it was important, an emergency with Tomas. Before you knew it, he overpowered you and then everything went black. When you awoke your arms were bound to the bedframe in some strange room. You fought desperately at the bindings, maybe almost getting them loose. And then Kuai walked in. "Thank the Elder Gods, you're awake."

At the sight of him, you felt the pounding in your head. You screamed at him in confusion. He shushes you so calmly, as if he didn't attack you. You looked into his eyes and saw a crazed look in it. Like a predator looking down at its helpless prey, ready to pounce.

Kuai had always wanted you. He was so sure you wanted him as well. How couldn't you? He was the only one for you just as you were the only one for him. Even better, he was the best of the brothers. Tomas, though Kuai loved him, was too soft...too broken to be loved. Bi-Han was a prideful hothead. He, in his mind, was the perfect brother. Surely you had to see it. He was loved by so many, regarded with honor and praise by Liu Kang and so many others. He had the love of the people, but he wanted yours as well, all of it. He refused to share it.

The closer you grew together, more of your friends ghosted you, more of your family suddenly stopped seeing you, anyone who so much as tried to flirt with you suddenly went missing, you seemed to be in constant danger and Kuai would always be there to save you, leaving you with no choice but to stay with him. At that point you clung to him that your very life seemed to depend on him.

He was so sure you were all his...then you and Tomas happened. Words cannot describe the fury he developed. He loved Tomas greatly...but you were his, not Tomas's. Kuei can't count how many times he has served in anger watching you two be together. But you didn't know about this for a second, he seems so happy for the both of you. You had no idea that he was in your room watching you and him sleep, that he had been following you to, that he has been taking things like your clothes and even a lock of your hair to smell as he touched himself.

He knew you were never anything official you being with Tomas was like cheating on him, playing in his face as you happily paraded your little affair with his brother like the malevolent whore you were. "My first thought...My first thought was to kill you, I won't lie..." Kuai said as he pet caresses your cheek, a sweet smile on his face. The image of him strangling in you flashes past his eyes, he softly chuckles. "But before that...I think you owe it to me and yourself to give us a chance." His voice was so sweet, so soft, his touch was warm, his smile was kind, he seemed like such a beautiful soul...if only you knew about this devil's true form.

"This is Insanity!" You try to argue "Kuai, I don't-please just let me go, please. I-I promise, I won't tell anyone, please." Kuai just stared at you, perfectly calm as if he expected this. "We belong together, Y/n" he says finally. "I won't release you until you understand that."

"W-What about Tomas!?" Kuai's smile flinched slightly at the mention of his brother. "I know you two have a...bond, but soon you'll forget all about him. You won't think about another man, Im the only one for you after all "

---

"Have you seen Y/n?" Concern was heavy in Tomas's voice. He hasn't seen you in days, he is getting really scared now. He spent hours pacing across the floor worrying where you were, he got a little more paper, her stopped eating as much, he even stopped sleeping, he was so scared for you how could he care for such things when you were missing?

"No, I am sorry, brother." Kuai looked at his brother sadly. Hearing this made Tomas's heart sink lower. He began to bite at his nails in nervousness. Where could you be, are you okay? Did he do something that caused you to avoid him? Oh gods, he would do anything to see you. Kuai noticed the dark circle around Tomas's eyes, he laid a hand on his shoulder, his gaze softened. "Don't worry, Tomas, I am certain that Y/n us okay. She has a good reason for all of this, I sure." His smile is a slight comfort, his words put him at a somewhat ease. Wherever you are, whatever you're doing he hopes that your okay.

--

How long has it been? You wonder. The last time you counted was a month and 3 weeks, but wherever Kuai moved you didn't have any windows or any outlet to let you see the outside world. You touched your hollow belly as you rumbled, Kuai hadn't fed you for what felt like a week, the punishment for you trying to escape. You were so tired, so thirsty, so sleep deprived. Kuai left you a thin mattress, a blanket, and a small pillow, but how could you sleep through something like this. You spent most of the time staring at the wall, or what you thought was a wall, the room was so dimly lit that you could barely tell and your eyes were puffy from hours of crying.

You wondered about Tomas, was he thinking about you too. Maybe he thought ghosted him and moved on. No, he was no doubt still wondering about you, probably really sad, Tomas really loved you. And you, perhaps you took it all for granted, you didn't take him seriously enough, maybe. All you knew is that if you ever saw him again, you'd hold him and never let go. You'd rather him than Kuai any day. All this time, you had thought he was the level headed and calm brother, the good one. But being here, after all that Kuai has done to you, it has made you rethink things immensely. Perhaps that is what Kuai wanted, for every to believe that he was the good one. He used Bi-Han's actions, every outburst and every time he snapped and was mean, to make himself look good. At least Bi-Han was blatant about who he truly was and didn't hide, he wasn't a wolf in sheep's clothing like his Kuai.

Your thoughts are quickly interrupted as you hear the door's lock clicking open. The door slowly swings open and light is poured into the room, you haven't seen light in so long that it burned your eyes to see it. It made it even harder to look as Kuai enters, his face is so calm and pleasant looking, it made you sick to see it. He smiles at you warmly and you feel your stomach churn as you try to avoid looking at him. "I have a gift for you, a treat. You have been so good for me that I had to reward you." He held a plate of moon cakes and a glass of milk, something he didn't give you often. He gently lays it next to and stays near it, you had to crawl over and eat it, the chain attached to the collar around your neck made it hard hard to reach it. You mumbled a thanks under your breath but just enough for him to hear you, it was painful to do it, but you were so hungry that you were willing to swallow your pride to swallow even a bit of sustenance.

He smiles as he watches you, "You are most welcome, beloved." You didn't like that word, and you like how he reached out to caress your face. But you didn't fight back, you were too scared to. If you made one wrong move then it would be likely that he'd hurt you. So you just sat there as he looked at you with that sickening smile. "We belong together, Y/n. Tomas is good, but you should be with me. You must feel it like I do. Just give yourself to me and I'll give you a better place to stay, maybe even let you go outside, Fang Jian is so beautiful this time of year. I would love to hold your hand in the sun, make love to you in the fields." The idea of him on top of you, smiling as he pumped into you, oh gods, this was a nightmare. You would sooner let an infected Tarkatan take you here and now than that.

You structure your face to give a demure expression, giving the illusion that you're actually considering such a thing. This is enough for Kuai, he smiles at seeing you seemingly considering it. "Please think about this. Think about us. Tomas loves you...but I adore you." And with that he kisses you softly on the forehead, rising to his feet and leaves. As the door closes, all of the light is that once flooded the room now slinks away back behind the door, leaving in darkness again. You tried to force another bite down, tried not to think about anything. But it fights it way up from your throat, through your mouth, and spills into the floor. You clung tightly to yourself as you begin to sob uncontrollably.

You can't take this anymore, you have to escape...be it in life or by death.

---

It has been almost 2 months, where are you!? Tomas barely got any sleep, he got up early in the morning and late in the evening to search for you. He won't stop looking for you, he won't give up on you. Kuai and the so many other members of the clan aid him in his search. It's like you disappeared from the face of the earth. "Did you find anything? Any possible trace where Y/n might be?" Tomas said as he saw Kuai enter the room. Kuai sadly shakes his head appearing guilty ridden at his failure. "No trace of her, I have spoken with Liu Kang, he'll Raiden and Kung Lao in searching." He lied.

Tomas sighed with relief, knowing that Liu Kang and his champions would be siding with him at some ease. They'll surely be a great aid, maybe you'll be found. Though he did feel a bit anxious about himself, this was a being who knowingly sacrificed Tomas's family just to help his keep his timeline "perfect". But he was so worried over you that he couldn't care less who was helping him, just as long as they helped get you back. He looked back into his brother's eyes, hopeful, he couldn't help but notice an upset look on his face. Like he was internally seething about something. "Kuai, are you-"

"I am well, I am just...so worried about Y/n. Anything could be happening to them right now. She could be getting tortured, or alone in a dark and cold cellar, or-" Tomas wanted to listen to his brothers words...but he couldn't help but notice the left side of his face. 4 small cuts decorated it.

---

Kuai is going to kill you, you're sure of it. You're so scared, you hugged yourself tightly and you rolled up into a ball. You were too frightened to even think about how empty your stomach was. You swiped at him, marking his face and leaving blood between your fingers. You don't remember why you did it you had blacked out, maybe he tried to force himself onto you, maybe you just snapped and attacked him. All you could remember was Kuai standing over you, a furious look on his face as blood dripped down it. Before you say anything, you felt the back of Kuai's collide with your face, causing you to slam into the ground. He lets out a frustrated sigh.

You tasted the hot, iron blood on your tongue as you tried to regain your barrings. Kuai turned his back from you, his fist clenched, he stormed out of the room and violently slammed the door behind him. Leaving alone in the dark, your heart racing, your eyes leaking with tears.

Now you're here, your face bruised, your body in a tight ball trying to console yourself as you face your possible doom. What does Kuai mean by "convincing"? Oh gods, was he about to murder you in a crime passion, a "if I can't have you no one can" sort of way. It was going to lock you away, somewhere darker, colder, where he would torture you into obedience. Can you imagine it? You left a hollow shell of what you used to be, bent to Kuai's will. No longer you, you're wants now his wants.

---

Tomas must've been crazy, surely he was. Surely Kuai didn't do it, surely he didn't kidnap you. He wouldn't, he'd never. The Kuai he knew and loved was an honorable warrior, a good man. He was kind, he was loving, he was his brother. He'd never do such a genius thing...if that was the case then why was he following his brother? He wondered. After he saw those claw marks on his face. He must've been crazy because those fresh claw marks reminded him so much of you. He remembered how he used to spend hours holding your hand, it was the most intimate thing you've done.

Kuai said it was an animal attack, something he acquired while looking for you. Tomas tried to convince himself that that was the case over an dover again. But that didn't stop him from wondering, didn't stop him from following his brother. He kept a good distance, clinging to the shadows, keeping his feet light, and staying invisible for the most part. Where was his brother going? He didn't stop at any shops as he passed through a market place, he passed Madame Bo's, the only thing in this route was a secret safe house that was established years ago.

Why was he going there though? Maybe it was to meet with a possible source that knew of your whereabouts, he hoped. He prayed silently to any god that was listening, practically begged, for that to be the case. But as they near the building, that seems to be less and less of the case. There was no one around, the house was empty. Kuai marched through the house and opened a door to go into the underground level of the building. He didn't seem to aimlessly wander about, he was marching with a purpose.

He flew down the dimly lit hallway to a door at the end. It had multiple locks attached to it, they looked new, freshly bought and couldn't have been there for more than two months. That's how long you've been missing. No...dear gods, please, it can't be. Tomas felt sick to his stomach and felt like he was about to lose his balance. Kuai took a key out of his pocket and unlocked each lock with care. He then would open the door, in a haunting slow manor and then went inside.

The whole world felt like it was going in slow motion as Kuai entered the room and Tomas followed.

---

Kuai approached you, his footsteps echoing off the walls. Your vision was blurred thanks to the sting of your tears, you haven't cried this much since you were first taken. You feel a strange thing inside, hollow yet full of grief, empty yet overflowing with tears. You finally looked up to see him, Kuai looked down at you both calm and annoyed. "I don't understand you, Y/n, why do you this game up. Some days you're so warm, things are perfect, other days..." He trails off and angrily shakes his head. "I'm so tired of this Y/n, having to convince you how perfect we are together, how right your hand is in mind, and then you pushing me away. I don't think I can play this anymore."

He reaches out and strokes your cheeks, wiping a tear away, he eyes the mark on your face. A remorseful look spreads across his eyes and he softens, no longer angry at you. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you. Sometimes I just get frustrated, and sometimes I need to let it out. You made me do it, I love you so much, you make it so difficult to love you this much. If you would just be good then I would never need to do that." He pulled you in close, you cry even harder. "Shhhh, it's okay, Y/n" he comforts you. "I know your sorry, you don't have to say it, I forgive you." His coos gently.

He holds tightly, so tight that it feels like he could crush your ribs if you resisted, all you could do was continue to weep in his arms. The sweet scent you always knew him for now smells so repugnant your nose. At this moment you felt ready to die, ready to take any necessary steps to get away from Kuai. Maybe provoke Kuai into killing you. Tomas would be the last thing you thought of, the last name you cried out as you went.

You missed him so much, you wanted him, you needed him. It was all so bad that you started to imagine him appearing in the doorway, a horrified expression on his face. Oh gods, you missed him so much to the point of hallucination.

"Y/n...Kuai..." At this, you felt Kuai's muscles tense.

---

Tomas's feet felt heavy as he stepped forward. "Kuai..." He started, but he didn't know what to say, what would he even say? He stared at his brother, his arms around you as he was faced away from his brother. He looked you in the eyes, the giant bruise on your face as you red eyes spewed tears. If Tomas were to ever go to hell, this is what he'd see.

"Tomas..." Kuai addressed him, his voice unusually cold and distant. He slowly rose to his feet, and he slowly craned his neck around to look at his brother. Kuai face was solemn and knowing, as if he anticipated this happening. A hint of a remorseful shadow looks over his face for a moment before fading back into a stern look. "What is this? What did you do to Y/n?! What is happening." Tomas demanded with a shaking voice. His eyes darted from you to his brother finally resting on Kuia, being sure to look him in the eyes. "You...you were keeping Y/n here, all this time...it was you!" Kuai just nodded silently as he returned Tomas's horrified gaze.

"Why...WHY!!" Tomas's voice vibrated off the walls. Kuai closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Tomas, you have to understand, I never meant to-" "Why!?" Tomas interrupted. "Because I love Y/n!" The room fell silent for a second. Tomas's vision was blurred with fresh tears starting to burn down his face. "I love Y/n, I love her in ways that you can never comprehend, Tomas, and seeing you two together...do you have idea how maddening that was? How painful to see the one I love with another?" Kuai himself began to shed a few tears as he stared down his brother, his voice was also getting shaky. Tomas looked at his brother through a new disturbed look. Kuai knew that the day would come where he would have to reveal everything to Tomas, he knew To as wouldn't take it the best. But the look he gave Kuai hurt more than could ever anticipate. All the brother could do was stare other down.

"Kuai, please," Tomas begged as he slowly approached Kuai. "Let Y/n go. Please, I'll let Y/n go too. For her safety we'll both let her be free, away from us, where she can be happy." Kuai's eyes widen as he backs away, being sure to block Tomas's path to you. He shakes his head, "No..." He bellowed, "I want Y/n, I can never let her go. Y/n belongs with me, not you, not anyone else, me."

At that second, you rise up quickly and stab Kuai in the back. While he was embracing you, he didn't notice that you had gently slipped his kunai from his side. Kuai let out a scream as he drugged the blade into his flesh and fell to the ground. For sadistic pleasure, you twisted the blade just a little bit causing him to whine in pain. He looks at you, heartbroken and betrayed. "Y/n..." He moans in pain, the tears fall even heavier. He gives you a longing gaze as he seems to go unconscious, you return his gaze with disgust.

Tomas stared at his brother, nothing could come to his head. The whole world felt like it was frozen again. His brother laid there bleeding out, you stared at him too, a sense of relief seemingly washes over you. "Y/n!" He stammers as he rushes at your side, and he embraces you, "Are you okay?"

His scent, his warmth, everything you've missed so much. "No...I'm not." You thought you missed it at least, but you felt so empty inside, you wanted to be happy so badly, but Kuai took all the joy from you in all those months he spent holding you captive, torturing you with hunger and loneliness. All you wanted right was to hold Tomas tight, cling to something, anything that would bring you some peace. You felt so filthy, so broken, now all you wanted to feel was Tomas's warm flesh as you wept. You honestly hoped Kuai wasn't dead, death was too good for him. After all he put you through, you wanted him to suffer all the more.

You bury your face deeper into his chest as you continued to sob and clung to him desperately. "Everything's going to be okay, I'm going to get you out of here and everything's going to be okay..." He stared at his brother's bloody body, his eyes fixed on Tomas and you embracing, tears continued to fall from his eyes. "Everything's going to be okay..." he repeats to you, his voice shakier as he cries harder.

[youmarin]

If I Die Tomorrow I'll Love You Today | Megumi Fushiguro x Reader

Pairings: Megumi Fushiguro x reader (platonic/romantic. the love interest <3), Gojo Satoru x reader (platonic), Tsumiki Fushiguro x reader (platonic), Itadori Yūji x reader (platonic), Kugisaki Nobara x reader (platonic). Lots of friendship and Gojo being a dad of 1, 2, 3…

Tags: angst, would this be considered a whump fic?, fluffy and wholesome, slowburn (?) (she fell first, he fell harder hehe), friends to lovers/childhood friends to lovers.

Summary: You inherit an ability that most people don’t, which turns your life upside down. At your lowest, a very special person lifts you up and gives you a second chance. You meet more people like you and enter their world, you fall in love and you’re willing to die to protect those who stood by your side.

Word count: 21,161 oops! (+ like +1.5k of footnotes with further details/commentary. I know. I should shut tf up.)

See the end for A/N.

masterlist

Your grandmother was the first person to notice it. That there were dangerous things lurking unseen to many. And that you could see them too. It was equally reassuring as it was scary to hear that in fact, the creatures you saw at school, that one time at the hospital when you nearly broke your arm, or even clinging to a person on the street, were real and not something your brain had made up. But you always felt safe with your grandmother. She seemed able to tell how to keep you out of harm's way. 

You felt very lonely in the world when she died. Felt that the darkness was now unavoidable. And you couldn’t shake the feeling off that maybe her death was related to it. 

Her house. You found yourself still drawn to it. It wasn’t far from your own home so when your parents couldn’t find you anywhere else, they would know that’s where you had strayed to, sitting there quietly for hours. At first they’d pinned it to grief, that you missed your grandmother, which was also true. You’d been closer to her. But your behaviour started to worry them. Always fidgety and anxious, easily scared and startled, seemingly spaced out in your own world. That worry turned to frustration, which turned to annoyance, and finally, disappointment. Then one day, they decided they had enough of it.

“Mommy?” You called out for her once you stepped through your front door, sliding your shoes off and putting them to the side. It was late, school having been over a while ago. “Daddy?” You winced, taking a step back when a stranger man emerged from the living room instead. Eyeing behind him, you saw your parents standing up from the couch next to each other. Their eyes were stern.  

You knew they didn’t understand you. They didn’t understand your grandma either. She’d told you not to mention anything to them. But even though you didn’t, they still figured out something was different with you too. It was okay if they didn’t understand. The part that hurt and that you didn’t understand was them pushing you away.

There was one thing your grandmother once told you that struck you, the thing that kept you going on during the first weeks of your confinement. Still, after losing count of how many months you’d been in the facility, it was hard. You were tired, your little body stiff and mind exhausted after another session of therapy in which you did your best to play along but ended up breaking down and trying to run away again seeking out, out, out.

Maybe you were never getting out. Maybe you really needed fixing. 

_____

You woke up, hearing the commotion coming from the hallway. Then the place grew eerily quiet again, just like always. You didn’t bother to move from your position, lying on the small cot of the room, your knees pressed to your chest. Not even when your door opened suddenly with force did you stir, just lifted your weary gaze towards it. 

The people you saw clearly didn’t work here. What they were doing in your room was beyond you. Had they given up on you here too? Would they take you somewhere else now? 

Another figure appeared in the room, so fast you were barely able to see it. The others weren’t even able to touch him. Soon enough, the other people were beaten up on the floor, the later arrival barely breaking a sweat. He dusted off his hands and turned to you. 

“Seems like I got here just in time.”  with the dull lighting in your room for the night, you could make out a smile shining on his face. His hair was all white, and it seemed so bright even in the dim space. As if things weren’t strange enough, his eyes were covered too. “Sorry about that.” 

Your lack of reactions were no good. It made him wonder if he really had gotten his timing right at all. Even though you were staring at him, your eyes seemed lost. It actually felt like you were staring past him. 

What was he doing? 

He already had enough being the guardian of the Fushiguro kids. 

“You’re a special little girl, aren’t you?”  When he uncovered his eyes, you saw they were a striking blue. They were beautiful yet somewhat intimidating. “You see things most people don’t.” 

After months of hearing the opposite and trying to get you to believe that in fact, those things weren’t real, it felt bizarre to hear it from him. Was it a test? Would they punish you if you fell for it? 

Your eyes caught movement behind him, the woman on the floor stirring. She released one of those strange creatures to attack him and you couldn’t help the scared feeling that flooded you. 

But in swift movements, he’d gotten rid of it and knocked out the woman again. 

He smiled a little wider when he saw you’d finally moved to sit, your body stiff. Though you looked a little shaken, “You saw it, didn’t you?” 

You nodded, hesitantly. 

“I see them too. And there’s more people like us. Like those two weaklings on the floor, but they’re bad.” 

“Are you real?” your innocent, unsure tone made him chuckle a bit. 

“Of course I am real. Here.” He extended a hand for you to touch. You looked at it, standing up and tentatively reaching for it. In fact, he was very real. You closed your fingers between his as if for final confirmation and you looked up to meet his eyes. “Now, let’s get out of here. What do you say?” 

One day you might find a person with whom you won’t have to hide this side of you. They might be just like you. You, my little girl, were that person for me. 

Her words resonated in your head again, and overwhelmed, you felt your eyes sting with pooling tears, letting go of the young man’s hand and throwing yourself towards him in a hug, little arms wrapped tightly around his middle.

“Woah, okay.” It caught him a little off guard but a chuckle fell from between his lips and he patted your head softly. 

He couldn’t get you to let go of him, so he’d settled on carrying you on the way out until they reached the car. 

______

“Megumi-chan!”  Megumi looked up, silently indicating that he was paying attention to his guardian. “I have someone I want you to meet.” When Gojo looked down, he followed his gaze to finally notice the little girl he was pointing at, hiding behind his legs out of shyness. “This is y/n-chan.”

Your eyes locked with the deep dark blue ones of the little boy Gojo had called Megumi, and you tilted your head curiously. 

His hair was weird. 

One of your hands let go of the fabric of Gojo’s pants and went up to your head, where your own hair was styled in two ponytails, one sitting slightly lower than the other. 

You looked up to Gojo when he spoke again, putting a hand gently on your back to get you out of your hiding place, “Go on, you can bother him all you want. He won’t mind.” 

Who’s he to tell if something bothers me or not?, Megumi thought, watching the interaction. 

“But I don’t want to bother him.” was your sweet answer. 

That made the young man laugh. “Of course you don’t. But just know you can. If he bothers you then you tell me.” 

Megumi glared at him. How was that fair? 

“You don’t have to hide. Ever. I’m just kidding. He’s a good kid just like you.” 

With a last gentle push, Gojo let you two alone in the Jujutsu High garden, after telling Megumi that he’ll come fetch him later for a little training session. 

You walk over to where he’s sitting on a blanket under the shadow of a tree, taking a seat too, just not too close. Then you take your new little backpack off your shoulders and rest it on your lap. Your fingers tighten a little around the bag. This is the first time you meet someone your age that can see curses, like Gojo told you they were called. And you could be friends.

“What?” His voice has a rough edge to it. You’re not quite expecting him to talk so you jump in your seat a little. Embarrassed by having kept staring at him, you looked down. He probably found it rude. 

He returns to what he is doing in his notebook and after a while you open your bag and reveal your also new coloring book and crayons, both settling to quietly work away. 

After a while, Megumi risks a glance at you again. He thinks your ponytails look a little funny. And upon further inspection he notices you’re wearing boy's clothes that look all too familiar. The way you were looking at him earlier with bright, big curious eyes is gone and you look sad now. When he looks down at the page you’re coloring, he sees it’s the picture of a dog. He wonders what made you pick the color red for it. Megumi thinks you’re about to cry when the crayon slips from your grip a little and you end up  accidentally coloring out of the lines.

You hear him mutter something and see he’s frowning. You’re really about to cry now because you think he’s annoyed that you’re there when suddenly there’s a big ball of white fur in front of you (it’s really not that big yet, just bigger than you). You gasp in surprise and delight. 

You look at Megumi again now, and he reaches to pet the dog. You take his gesture as an okay and smile at him. His little face feels warm but you’re too happily entertained with Shiro to notice it. 

After that, you play with Shiro for a while before Megumi releases it, you share your coloring book and the snacks Gojo put on your backpack. When Gojo comes back to pick both of you up, he finds you both had fallen asleep. You’re facing each other, one your tiny hands had somehow tangled in Megumi’s unruly hair and the other under one of his.

Soon enough, you were starting training too. 

Megumi watched sitting close by when Gojo told him it was break time. He’d called you over. 

Gojo explained to you several different moves you could make with the aid of a dummy and you watched attentively, trying to copy them as accurately as you could. 

“Hit it as hard as you can.” 

He watched you grow tired after some time, small face flush and sweaty. 

The young man grinned.

“Okay, why don’t you try to land a hit on me before we wrap it up?” 

“You can’t do it. He’s lying.” Megumi frowned, guessing the man’s intentions.  

He’d already fallen for it. 

“Oh c’mon, you’re no fun, Megumi.” Yet, his argument had been vague. You wouldn’t get what the little boy meant, “And why are you telling her what she can and can’t do?” 

“That’s not what I mean.” His frown grew deeper while he shook his head vigorously. 

“C’mon y/n.” He encouraged, seeing you hesitantly looking between Megumi and him.

“But I don’t want to hurt you.” You said, settling to looking down at your fidgety fingers. You looked really upset about it.

Gojo’s eyes widened behind his glasses and he stalled for a moment, your words warming his heart but playing it down by clearing his throat. “It’s alright, darling. You won’t hurt me.” He meant it. He risked a glance at the now pretty beaten up dummy you’d been practicing with. You were a little violent though, he worried. Then he caught himself. You really couldn’t hurt him.

“Really?” 

“Really.” He said reassuringly. “Now give me your best shot.” 

“Okay.” you said, still a little hesitant but going for it. 

And Megumi couldn’t help but watch as another person fell victim to Gojo’s little amusement. The man did feel a tiny bit bad, but it was too fun to resist it. 

You totally crashed and fell back on your bum. You didn’t crash with Gojo though. It felt like hitting a very clean glass door. 

You brought a hand up to your forehead, looking so dumbfounded while Gojo stood there laughing until he was in tears. 

“I tried to warn you.” Megumi walked over, extending his hand to touch the invisible barrier you’d hit. “It’s his technique. You can’t touch him unless he turns it off and lets you.” 

Your little self felt very betrayed, and both Gojo and Megumi picked up on it. “That was mean!” You said, standing up to try again only for your little fist to hit nothing. 

“I’m sorry!” Gojo managed between laughs.

“No you’re not!” Now Megumi joined forces with you. But it was no use, neither of you would land a hit.

You stopped, huffing and puffing, and that’s when Gojo took his chance to swiftly pick you up, “Gotcha!” making you squeal and giggle as he tickled you. Before Megumi could get away, he was being picked up too, squirming to get down but failing, instead landing on the man’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes. When he stopped resisting, he shifted to look at you, cheering as Gojo offered to get you ice cream as an apology. 

Your cursed technique then started to manifest itself. The most evident thing was that now when you looked at everyone, all your eyes would focus on was in this weird light flowing all over their bodies, twinkling brighter varying the person or how they seemed to feel. When you stared at Gojo, for example, it was almost blinding. 

And you felt exhausted. You wanted to say something about it but you couldn’t find the way to explain yourself. 

You were heading over to see Megumi and Tsumiki. Apparently, Megumi was sick. Nothing serious, just a common cold. 

“You okay over there?” Gojo asked, looking at you from the rear view mirror, you sitting on the back. He’d noticed your squinting for a while now. You avoided looking at him, choosing to look out the window as you nodded. “Is the sun bothering you? Here.” He handed you a strip of dark cloth, like the ones he used to tie over his eyes. He would give you his glasses but they were too big for you. He noted to buy you some. He chuckled as you put it over your eyes. “You look just like me now.” 

That made you laugh too. “I can’t see anything now.” But it brought you comfort, giving your straining eyes some rest. 

When you pulled over to a stop outside the apartment building, you forgot for a moment all about your own and got out of the car excited to see both of the Fushiguro kids. 

You hugged Tsumiki first before heading over towards Megumi. He’d been sleeping in his room until recently. You practically jumped over him. 

“I missed you!” you hugged him. “Are you okay?” 

Overall, he was. It only sounded like it wasn’t every time he coughed and Gojo worried his lungs would come out. He’d had a fever but it was better now, so he made Megumi take a nasty cough syrup after having dinner, considering that going to the hospital wasn’t necessary. 

“Get away from Megumi, y/n. You might get his germs.” Gojo joked. 

“Ew!” You giggled, watching Megumi’s sour face, the medicine taste in his mouth. Then you had an idea. “Oh, I know how you’d get better sooner, Megumi!” Your eyes shined. Forgetting all about the gross stuff Gojo said, you leaned over with your hands on his shoulders and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Now!” 

Megumi’s little round cheeks colored. “Um, thank you.” 

 He stared at you and also noticed your sort of unfocused stare. You were looking at him but at the same time it seemed like you weren’t. “Are you okay?” 

“Mhmm!” You nodded, still sitting on your knees in front of him on the bed. 

You settled in a comfortable silence. Megumi stared at you with tired eyes, as your own tired ones fixated on whatever you’d been staring at for a while. “You’re shining, Megumi.” you revealed, words a little slurred with what he figured was sleep. He chuckled at your odd comment.

When you place a hand over his arm, following the flow of light you saw, he feels something strange. It’s associated with you, it feels like you. For a moment he swears he sees something shining white from where your skin touches and thinks he might be getting a fever back and he’s hallucinating. But in a blink, it’s gone and he discarded calling for Gojo. 

Satoru doesn’t know when he dozed off on the couch. But it’s still too early in the morning when he’s startled awake by Megumi calling for him, his voice alarmed.

You had picked up Megumi’s cold. Since you were already exhausted it had gotten worse. You were shivering, hair sticking to your burning forehead with sweat and your cheeks red with a fever too high. Megumi’s terrified by your side, and Gojo’s not doing much better. When he gathers his bearings enough, he picks you up, your small body slumping against his and he’s rushing out of the room. There’s no time to argue with the other two for them to stay behind so they all get in the car and rush to the hospital. 

“She got sick because of me.” Megumi mumbles to him, eyes downcast. They’re sitting on the chairs outside your hospital room. Tsumiki’s sitting by his other side, fast asleep with her body leaning against his after he got her to calm down. 

“Don’t say it like it’s your fault. You couldn’t possibly know she’ll get like this.”

Maybe that kiss was a little too effective, Megumi thinks. He’s feeling much better now. But he’d rather you not giving it to him if it’d made you sick. “I think she has been feeling bad since last night.” 

“What makes you think so?” Gojo asks him. 

“She said something weird. That I was shining. And she sounded tired.” 

“Shining?” 

When the doctors got your fever under control and later in the day you woke up, they were all in your room. You’re a little scared until you see them come in. 

Gojo stares at you while you talk with the kids, studying you closer. He still sees you squinting from time to time, especially when you turn to look at him.

“Is there something you’re not telling me, little miss?” He finally speaks up. There’s a worried look on your face and you open your mouth, then close it. You shake your head. “Are you sure?” 

“I-I don’t know.” You settle with.

“You don’t know?” He quirks a brow. 

Tentatively, you reach for him, he’s sitting by your bedside. You blink a couple times, trying to get used to the “light”, your little finger tracing up his arm. “It’s too bright.” 

It clicks now. Gojo beats himself for not noticing it sooner. You’d been struggling with your technique this whole time. He sighs, expression softening.

“It’s okay. We’ll handle it.” He moves to sit beside you on the bed, then places his hands over your eyes. 

“What are you doing?”  Megumi asks, eyeing the man strangely. You chuckle, also wondering what Satoru’s doing. 

“Doesn’t it feel better?” 

You nod. 

“It was my bad, okay?” Gojo says, looking at Megumi. 

__________

School had been hard to adjust to, being at a new place and a little behind the others, adding all the new things you knew now. But it was okay. Just. Lonely. You didn’t call attention on yourself and spent most of your free time alone. You wondered how Megumi did in school. You only saw him on weekends when Gojo brought him to Jujutsu High for training or on other occasions when Gojo dropped at his place with you tagging along to check up on him and his sister. 

“Say, Megumi-chan,” Gojo started one evening while he finished folding his laundry. He wasn’t expecting the man to drop by today. “What would you say if y/n-chan started middle school in the same school as you guys the upcoming year?” At the mention of your name, Megumi perked up. Gojo knew he got along well with you and thought both you and the boy would do each other good company. 

He shrugged, seemingly uninterested, but it wasn’t an unpleasant idea. Quite the opposite. “I don’t mind. But you should ask her first.” 

“You think I wouldn’t ask her first?” 

He really has to ask when he does whatever he wants all the time?

Megumi raised a brow at him but Gojo continued as if he hadn’t said anything in the first place. 

“Great! So it’s settled. I’ll tell her to come.” 

“Tell her to…?-” The words died in his mouth as he followed Gojo into the hall and he opened the front door. 

Next thing he knew, you were crashing into him in a tight hug almost throwing you both onto the floor, saying his name in a cheery voice. Throughout the years, you’d grown more comfortable around those closer to you, which included him of course, a side only a few privileged could see. Megumi couldn’t deny that some of Gojo’s exuberant ways (to put it lightly) had rubbed off on you, thankfully not on the same level. He liked this side of you, even though he pretended not to as he pushed you off him (putting nearly no resistance, really) while he chuckled. More open and cheerful, probably more close to how you were supposed to be if what happened to you in the past before he met you hadn’t taken place at all. He still didn’t know much about it. You never mentioned it and he never asked. He thought about asking Gojo someday. 

Right now, he stares at your eyes shining with joy as you stare back at his deep blue ones and lets himself give you a soft smile. He hopes it doesn’t show on his face how warm his cheeks feel.

Life seemed more exciting then. Although you had Gojo around every other day when he wasn’t working, apart from him you were mostly on your own. Now you’d moved in with Megumi and Tsumiki and would go to school together. 

You’d see another side of Megumi you’d been wondering about for a while, how he was in the school environment. It wasn’t much different. You knew he was responsible with his assignments and lessons. When you visited him before, he’d be finishing doing them or reviewing, or he’d completely done them already. Very much like you in that matter; you tended to do schoolwork during free periods or lunch period so you didn’t have to bring it back home with you. You also expected him more to be on his own most of the time, and you weren’t wrong either. And even though you knew it would be like that, you didn’t think it would put a damper on the dynamic of your friendship. 

Somehow, you came up with the idea that he wouldn’t like to be seen around with you.  

And Megumi didn’t understand it. You seemed so excited to be attending school with him, but once you reached the school gates in the morning you’d go your own way and barely see each other for the rest of the day. That was, of course, until he’d end up in the principal’s office after beating up a guy for bothering another third guy that ended out of the skirmish after muttering a shuddering ‘thank you’ and scurrying away. You’ll head out of your classroom and meet with Tsumiki to see if he was okay. 

What surprised you the most was that. The fights. Somehow you’d never witnessed one. It’s not like you wanted to (maybe him neither and had been doing a great job at keeping you from doing so).

He’d managed to put in line every bully of the school or well, mostly all of them. Apparently, some were dumb enough to start picking on you. You seemed like the perfect target. Quiet, reserved, seemed to have a permanent look of worry etched on your face. There was no way you would tell on them. 

It had started subtle enough to not cause immediate worry, but they’d noticed the little details. Like how during dinner you sometimes seemed hungrier than usual. Which wasn’t bad, you were a growing girl after all, and they liked that you ate well. If it wasn’t for the fact that you’d had to skip lunch because some jerk took your money. 

Or when at some point it took you longer to finish with your assignments. Sure, you were middle schoolers and the lessons’ topics grew more complex by year but it usually never took you so long as to keep you closed up in your room for so much time. It was because they made you do their homework. 

At last, Megumi became wary one day when school was done and it was time to go home, but you never came out to meet them at the entrance. You’d skipped afternoon classes and ran home. Just before lunch period, someone had stuck a piece of chewing gum in your hair. When Megumi and Tsumiki got home, they’d froze upon seeing how your once long hair now reached just below your shoulders. Tsumiki had instantly lost it, asking what had made you do that to your beautiful hair but you just brushed her off with a smile that didn’t really reach your eyes. Megumi frowned at the scene.

Suspecting you wouldn’t tell if he asked you directly, he decided to wait a little longer for the cause of your behaviour to reveal itself.

It finally happened one day during free period, when one of your bullies noticed something that piqued their eye. It was a silly keychain Gojo had given you the last time you all went out together the previous weekend. When they asked to have it and you said no, things took a more physical turn.

“Did you say no?” they asked, as if they’d misheard you.

“I won’t give it to you.” You said firmly.

“Is that so? Then I’ll just have to take it.” 

Megumi had just stepped outside of his own classroom to walk over to the vending machines, when he’d spotted the three, two girls and a boy, and you, speaking near his destination. His expression softened without him picking on it. He’d never see you talk to anyone so it was nice to see you make friends. So was he thinking until he noticed how uncomfortable you really looked and he started to hurry over. He was just a tad bit late as they shoved you harshly and you stumbled back to the ground. 

“Give it back!” You’d hurried to stand back up and get your things back from the boy, the one that had pushed you and thrown your bag to the ground, having gotten what he wanted. He shoved you again, you hitting the wall and Megumi swore he was seeing red. 

How long had this been happening? 

When the two girls met Megumi’s death stare they froze in place. He grabbed the boy’s shoulder and spun him around before sending a punch square to his face.

“If you dare to touch her again I will break all of your fingers.” He threw another punch but didn’t connect, the boy moving and managing to land a punch around Megumi’s chin. 

Okay, now you were really angry. 

“Don’t touch him!” As Megumi stumbled slightly, you stood up and stepped in, taking the matter into your own hands (better late than never), throwing yourself at the boy to punch him.

Gojo wasn’t surprised to receive a call from the school every other day to hear about how Megumi had gotten into a fight again, but this time it did when he heard you’d been part of it. 

“Why didn’t you say anything? Hell, why didn’t you do anything sooner!” Back home after the incident, Gojo couldn’t barely get a word in as Megumi kept doing all the reprimanding. The boy would ask you something, but he didn’t even let you talk either.

“I didn’t want to worry anyone!” You managed to cut him off. 

“Do I seem less worried now?!” 

“Megumi, stop shouting!” Tsumiki chimed in. 

He took a deep breath. He really wasn’t one to shout but the whole ordeal had really gotten to his nerves. “I need out.” He parted from the living room and out the front door, closing it with a loud bang. 

You stood in your place on the couch, looking at your hands on your lap. 

“Megumi’s right in something.” Gojo finally was able to speak, “You could’ve said something. Or dealt with it. Megumi would’ve gladly punched the lights out of him for you, but you did it just fine yourself!” He wasn’t happy that such a thing had been happening for such a long time, but he did sound proud about you beating up the boy. “I thought you’d made me a promise.” 

You looked up at him with wide eyes. Gojo was staring right back at you. He was talking about the promise you made the day he took you in. 

“You’ll be safe here and will have everything you need.” Gojo had told you when you arrived at what would be your new home. “I’ll need you to do just a little thing for me, okay?”

You’d turn your attention away from the room to look back at him, still perched on his arms. Your tiny hands let go of his shoulders to pull up his blindfold and look him in the eyes. “What is it?” you tilted your head curiously. 

“I need you to be brave and strong.” 

“Like you?” 

The young man nodded. “Like me, or more if you can. Think you can do that for me?” 

Seeing the unsure look on your face, Gojo had to bite back a laugh. “I don't expect you to be able to be so by tomorrow morning. Little by little every day. Yeah?”

At his explanation, you nodded, raising your pinky. “Promise.”

“Promise.”

You felt your lower lip start to tremble and you had to bite on it and focus on the sting to stop yourself from crying.

“I’m sorry.” You said when you felt you were in the clear to speak again.

“You don’t have to apologize.” Gojo brushed you off. 

Gojo knew you weren’t a fan of confrontation when it came to only yourself. But when others were involved, that’s when you would step up. That’s why when you’ve accounted for the events of the day he immediately understood what made you finally take action. He just wanted you to learn to stand up for yourself. 

“Megumi’s been out for a while…” Tsumiki trailed off, a worried edge to her tone. 

“I’ll go look for him.” Gojo stood up and followed the way out.

When they were back, the boy went straight to his room. You went right after him, the small first aid kit you’d retrieved from the bathroom in your hands. 

He stared at you when you opened the door and stepped in, but looked away once you sat down next to him at the foot of his bed. He didn’t resist it when you brought a hand up to his face to tilt it in your direction. Still, his gaze was downcast and his expression serious.

“You’re still upset?” 

“What made you think so?” He answered, tone flat. He winced once you brought up a cotton ball to clean the cut on his lip. 

“Does it hurt?” 

“Just stings a little.”  Normally, the bullies never stood a chance and Megumi would end unscathed besides the cuts in his knuckles.

“I’m sorry.” 

“Stop apologizing.” 

You stayed quiet as you finished up. Looking down at your arm, he brought a hand up gently brushing over the bruise forming there from when you hit the wall. He frowned but held back from ranting again. He said something else instead.

“You did get him good though.” 

A small smile started to break on your face at his comment. “I’m sure I could beat you too now.” you teased. 

“Say that again on Saturday.” there was a hint of a smile on his face then too, his hand coming up to brush over a strand of your hair. 

After the issue with those jerks was over, Megumi was rarely seen alone again at school, and so were you. Now you two were inseparable, always seen together outside of the classrooms. Like at that moment, you talking his ear off walking down the school hallways while he listened contentedly to your ramble. And now really no one was dumb enough to bother you again. 

______

Just having begun your last year of middle school, an event happened that shook your lives again. 

Tsumiki fell into a coma, under the effect of some curse.

Nobody had any answers as to how it happened, no trace, no clues. Just one day, she wouldn’t wake up. 

Megumi couldn’t explain it. She was just fine the days before. If he thought too much about it it’d send him spiraling, until he couldn’t think of anything else. He’d go around asking questions and returning home late. At first, you’d decided to give him space but were sure to let him know you were there for him given he needed anything. It got really bad for a while afterwards, shutting you and everyone off every time you offered him help, not letting anyone join him when he visited her. On the worst days, he’ll skip class, or return home to just lock himself in his room. You wouldn’t see him for hours.

“You’re home.” you brightened up one evening. He’d come back relatively earlier than other days. “You’re hungry? Let me heat up your food again.” 

He silently took off his shoes, then disappeared through the hallway. He came back after dropping his bag in his room and changing into more comfortable clothes. Wordlessly, he ate dinner. But it was something. You were fine with it. That was until he put the dishes away and headed out towards his room again.

Before you even caught up to what you were doing, you were following him, hurried footsteps thudding against the floor. You heard the lock clicking in place. You knocked the door, with a little more force than necessary. 

“Megumi? Megumi, could you please open the door?” 

No response. He’d just closed the door, you knew he could hear you. 

“You can’t keep doing this, Megumi.” 

“Is this how things are going to be now?” your voice ultimately broke. “What am I even doing here if I can’t help you?” 

“I miss her too. And no, I won’t say I get it because I’m sure I don’t feel remotely the same way you do.” 

“But I miss you too.” You couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. 

He lay there on his bed facing away from the door while he heard your soft cries right on the other side. At some point you had given up on him opening the door because he couldn’t hear you anymore. It was better for you that way. 

He didn’t notice when he’d drifted off to sleep, but when he woke up it was past midnight. His mouth was dry, so he stood up to go get some water, his body aching from the curled up position he’d fallen asleep into. Then he noticed a light outside was still on, just a fine line visible from under his door. You were still up? 

Warily, he approached it and turned the knob. He felt a slight pressure on it as he swung it open slowly. And there you were sitting on the floor in front of his door. You weren’t awake though. 

Megumi hastily called your name and crouched down to get a hold of you before you fell over and could hurt yourself. He brought a hand up to your face, harmonious except for the red under your eyes, the streaks of dry tears on your cheeks, your lashes still moist.

He called your name again when you wouldn’t wake up. He could feel himself begin to tremble around you, one arm around your middle holding you in your sitting position while his other hand sustained your head up tilted in his direction.

Finally beginning to open your eyes after he called your name for the third time, he exhaled in relief. “Megumi? What? What is it?” you sat up almost instantly, sleep draining out at the sight of tears falling from his eyes, your hands finding his face to wipe them away.

A hiccup in his voice kept him from talking right away, “I’m sorry.” His arms wrapped around you and hugged you tightly to him. You didn’t miss a beat to do the same. “I’m right here.” 

“Yes, it’s okay. You’re okay. I’m here with you.” It was hard for the words to come out over the lump in your throat.

You were both a crumpled mess on the ground, holding on to each other while tears kept falling. But this was better. It was better to be broken together.

Come another day, you went to visit Tsumiki together. You insisted on talking to her, and told Megumi to talk to her too, that she’d like to hear his voice. Hesitantly, when he was alone, he would do so. And sometimes he felt he needed to, like this time, due to your choice in conversation.

“You’ll see, our Megumi has gotten so handsome!” 

His face burned, was it out of embarrassment or for the compliment he didn’t know. 

“Could you not say stuff like that?” 

“Oh that’s right. He was always handsome.”

“That’s not what I meant.”  It was useless to try to stop you though.

“A girl from his class confessed to him this week! She probably did because the year’s almost over and we’ll start high school soon too. But he rejected her though so he’s still single.” 

“So are you.” 

“And who’s fault is that? You and Gojo teamed up to scare all boys away!” 

“I’ve beaten up like half of the male student population of the school. They’re just a bunch of pricks.” 

You sighed, “I wish someone would confess to me before going onto Jujutsu High. Although I’ll get to see Inumaki senpai from time to time.” 

Megumi’s face scrunched up, “You have a crush on Inumaki senpai?” 

“What? He’s sweet. And cute.” 

How would I know? Megumi thought. 

Seeing his expression, you laughed, grabbing onto his hands for a moment too brief, reaching from your seat beside him, “Guess it’ll be just you and me in the end, Megumi.” You smiled brightly at him, then again you turned to Tsumiki, now continuing to speak about something else he wasn’t paying attention to as he was left to stare at you, your eyes sparkling with your excitement yet with a tenderness, always hopeful that one day she’d wake up, if only to tell you to shut up. 

He was doing better. He has you both. He’ll fix what happened to his sister, and he’ll always protect you too. 

For a moment, you looked at Megumi and found a soft smile on his lips as he stared at the scene in front of him. It didn’t leave as his eyes met yours. 

___________ 

This weekend, you didn’t visit Jujutsu High. Someone had gone to the school and declared war against the sorcerers. The day they planned to attack would be today. It was Christmas Eve, and while you were worried for everyone, you still were selfishly upset that Gojo had to leave.

“Shouldn’t we go help them then?” You said while working with the preparations for the evening. “We have training, and we’ll be official students at the school in a couple months.” But instead, you were stuck in the apartment. 

“He’ll be back tonight.” Megumi told you while he helped you. 

It was Gojo, he thought. He was the strongest so there was nothing to worry about. That’s what he told himself yet when evening rolled in and you sat at the table, two seats empty, he couldn’t deny the anxiety gnawing at his insides even though he didn’t voice it. 

“Let’s go to bed.” Megumi called out to you, standing out on the balcony in your pajamas, still waiting. “Get back inside. It’s cold.” 

“He said he’d be here.” He heard your voice waver. 

It was past midnight, and you still refused to go to bed. At some point, you’d started to silently cry, your head lying on Megumi’s shoulder as you sat closely on the living room sofa. He didn’t bring it up, letting you cry until eventually you fell asleep. 

Still early in the morning, Megumi stirred awake when he heard someone close the front door. He moved his neck from side to side with a grimace, having fallen asleep with his head on top of yours, the position a little uncomfortable and making it hurt. Footsteps got closer until Gojo was stopping in front of him. The man took the scene in front of him and scrambled for something to say, especially with Megumi squinting at him with sleepy eyes. 

“You’re late.” the boy spoke up first. 

“Were you worried about me?” He tried to make the mood lighthearted. 

The boy averted his gaze,“What if I was?” 

“So you were?” Said the man, actually a little surprised. Pleasantly surprised.

“You made her cry.” 

At that, Gojo glanced at your sleeping figure, still nuzzled into Megumi. Your cheeks were streaked with dry tears. your under eyes and cheeks slightly flushed. The man’s eyes softened, a pang of guilt to his chest.

Later, when you woke up, you found yourself lying on the couch, a warm blanket over you. Sitting across from you, you saw him. 

“Merry Christmas.” he smiled.

You squealed happily, then remembered you had just woken up and had terrible bed hair. You weren’t a fan of people seeing you like that, so next you left out another scream, mortified, making Gojo laugh. 

“The neighbors are going to put up a noise complaint, y/n.” Megumi said from the kitchen, finishing making breakfast. 

As soon as you were ready, you came back to the living room and tackled Gojo in a hug, a puff of air leaving him because of your rough affection.  

Before he could do anything, you rushed towards the small Christmas tree at the corner of the room. Under it, a few presents directed to Gojo, Tsumiki, Megumi and you. 

“Megumi! You were supposed to wait!” you scolded. 

You picked one up and walked back towards Gojo. 

“Merry Christmas, Satoru.” you smiled brightly at him. He brought up his hands to receive his present, a wobbly smile trying to break through as he looked away from your eyes. 

Your own smile faltered, concerned, “Are you okay?” 

“Oh, yeah. All good.” But his eyes look sad and distant, as if he was torn between this moment and elsewhere. “Thank you, kid.” 

“You’re welcome. I really hope you like it. I dragged Megumi around the mall looking for the per…” He stared at you with a soft expression as you kept talking, your under eyes still red and irritated but all lightened up now. 

Thank you for your tears. 

___________

“You already done? Gojo is coming to get us soon.” 

“C’mon, you know he’s rarely on time.” He heard you answer back.

Megumi opened the door to your room but stopped at the doorway when he saw you. You were already dressed in your new Jujutsu High uniform, the skirt flowing in the air as you turned around. 

“Whatcha think? Wouldn’t these in black suit me better?” Almost your entire closet consisted in black clothes but he had to agree that black really did suit you very well. Although he didn’t mind the rare times you wore another color. He’ll find he’d like it anyway.

“It looks good.” 

“You really think so?” You brightened up, finally taking a good look at him. “You look great though! It matches with your eyes” 

“It’s just a uniform.” He murmured, avoiding your eyes. He didn’t know why you always managed to get him flustered lately.

“We’re gonna be using these for a while.” 

Like you had predicted, Gojo was late, but once he arrived, you picked up your things with a sigh and filed out, throwing one last look at the apartment you’d called home for the last 3 years. It wasn’t a goodbye. Once Tsumiki woke up, she could return and you’ll come back any time you’d like. Megumi was the last to come out, taking in how much more empty the place ended up, then closed the door. 

“At school you have to show respect to your superiors.” Gojo started once you reached Jujutsu High. 

“Just like you do?” Megumi said sarcastically, raising a brow at him. 

“You mean we have to call you Gojo sensei?” 

“That’s right!” He pointed at you animatedly. “You always picked things up fast. Now,” He waited expectantly for you to fill the imaginary blank in the air. 

“Gojo sensei.” Gosh you were so cute. Both you and Megumi were so fun to mess with in such different ways, watching the grumpy boy start to mutter to himself in clear annoyance. 

Meanwhile, Megumi couldn’t believe how gullible you could be sometimes. 

“Y/n, you’re indulging him too much.” 

“C’mon Megumi-chan, try again.” Rang his now officially teacher’s sing song voice. 

“Just once and he’ll stop.” You told him, but clearly you were finding it fun. 

“You think?”

____________

Megumi arrived at Sendai at night. The time didn’t matter to him that much on that occasion because it was a simple mission. He was supposed to find the talisman, then he would go to the hotel and head back to Tokyo tomorrow.  

In front of the Stevenson screen, he stopped.

 Something was off. 

Where did he go? Before you could wonder anything else, you felt him grab hold of one of your arms, turning you around and out of your hiding place behind the underbrush. You made contact with the ground harshly while he pinned your hands above your head and the rest of your body with his on top.

You chuckled, a little out of breath from the impact. “You’re getting good, Megumi.” Sure he was. He only sensed you because you let him. And there you were, smiling up at him like you were having fun and nothing was up. How long had you been trailing him? 

Unable to ignore his presence lingering for maybe too long (not that you could with all of him practically holding you down), and his deep blue eyes like the ocean seemingly pinning you down on its own, you squirmed under him nervously. “Are we going to stay like this all night or are we getting the job done?” 

That seemed to snap him back, releasing you quickly and standing up, busying himself dusting off his uniform. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

You sat up, “I’m on the mission.” 

“Gojo didn’t appoint you for this one. If I remember correctly, he actually told you not to come. How did you even snuck out and travel here?” He sometimes found your stealth an equally good and bad point. That paired with your ability to practically reduce your cursed energy to nothing made it hard to notice you. He didn’t blame whoever you got to overlook you. 

“Gojo sensei.” He helped you up, dusting off your skirt, “I got my own money.” 

“We’re not at school. And he should cut down your allowance.” 

“It’s still school business. And if he wants to save money he should cut down yours.” 

“That doesn’t even make sense! I haven’t done anything!” 

“Exactly! It’s a simple mission and you’re here arguing with me!” You turned away from him and looked over to the screen, “It’s supposed to be right there, isn’t it? I don’t even feel anything.” Megumi frowned at your words, then went ahead to open the screen. You followed, standing on the tip of your toes to take a look over his shoulder. 

There was supposed to be a lock in it but it was gone, so without any obstacle, the door budged open easily to find- 

Nothing. 

His face scrunched up. 

He took out his phone. Gojo didn’t take long to pick up. “There’s nothing here.” He muttered out. When he turned slightly to look at you he opened his mouth again, and you feared he would rat you out. And you were right to do so because that’s what he planned to do. You shook your head and clasped your hands together pleading with him. 

You couldn’t hear what Gojo said but Megumi didn’t find it funny, repeating he was going to punch him. Then Gojo hung up. You smiled brightly at him for not telling on you and Megumi scolded himself for giving in to you. He sighed. 

“Can’t go home until I find it.” He turned to start to look around. 

“What are you doing?”

“What do you think?” 

“It’s dark. It could be anywhere around the school and I can’t exactly feel anything near us. Let’s head over to the hotel and come back early tomorrow.”

You were right. It was dark and if you couldn’t even sense it, it meant it would be more troublesome. He began to make his way back, bringing his phone up to call Ijichi-san this time. “Absolutely not. You’re staying back tomorrow.” 

“What? No! I thought we were good now! You know I’m helpful.” You protested. 

Sure, he knew you were more than helpful, but if Gojo had been opposed to you joining it was for a reason. “I didn’t tell on you, but Ijichi-san will unless you do as told.” 

“Fine.” Now you were frowning. Megumi didn’t like it when you got mad, much less if you got mad at him. But he was doing the right thing, right? Or the closest thing to it. 

When you got to the hotel, you both got ready for bed. Not a word was said. The bed in his room was spacious enough for two so you didn’t see a reason to ask for another room (plus you didn’t want Gojo on you if he happened to check your account, and you didn’t have enough cash). You laid down, facing away from him. 

“Good night.” He mumbled, staring at your back. No answer. He waited patiently.

You squirmed in bed for a few minutes, until you finally gave in. Turning around, you placed a kiss on his cheek, then mumbled, “Good night.” 

A smile broke on his face. He knew you couldn’t stay mad at him for long, and you didn’t like to go to bed while still being in a bad mood. You probably hated him sometimes for it. 

He should’ve known better. 

When he woke up, slowly opening his eyes, the first thing he noticed was the empty space beside him. That made him shoot up immediately. There was no way. No way did you sneak out while he was asleep. That was foul play. If there was a next time you acted this stubborn (unfortunately he was sure this wouldn’t be the last time), he would use Gama to restrain you the moment he saw you if necessary. He hurried to get ready and head out after you. 

It's not until the afternoon when Megumi finds you, coming to a stop behind a fence while it looks like some sort of competition’s about to start on the field. Just for a moment, he’s able to blend both of you in with your surroundings. He imagines he’s there to meet with you, you’re just like any other girl at this normal school on a normal day. It’s a little easier this time since you’re not wearing the Jujutsu High uniform, instead you don a simple, practical outfit (since you’re on a mission and practically trespassing. No need for extra attention.) but that nonetheless suits you very well. Your hair, now long again, flows softly behind you with the light breeze like a soft, dark veil. There’s a hair tie on your wrist for later when you start to feel like it gets on the way but for now he enjoys your serene look.

Of course, you notice him right away and smile innocently at him. He stares for a little longer, your smile drowning him down further but he forces himself out back to reality. “I thought I made myself clear.”

“I’m older than you. You can’t be ordering me around.” He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. You brought up that lame excuse any chance you got. It was just an eleven day difference. 

“It’s not too late to go back and avoid making this bigger than it is.” 

You brushed him off, “Focus.” 

Like that’s not what he’d been trying to do this whole time.

You looked ahead towards the field, “There’s cursed energy shooting from all directions. That thing’s sure around here.” 

“I can tell that much.” He stared at you, not being able to push down his worry. “How long have you been using your technique?” 

“Since I got here this morning.” You brought your index to your chin in thought, “Which makes it... Past 7 hours?” 

“Go back to the hotel and rest until I’m done here.” 

“Relax, I can hold it up for a little longer.” 

Before he could go on ranting about how this wasn’t necessary and how he’d have to deal with your headache too, or worse, your body could give up on you leaving you all crumpled on the floor, chants of someone’s name brought your attention back to the field. Just in time to see a pink haired boy send a heavy metal ball flying through the air as if pitching a baseball , caving the edge of the soccer goal and lodging there. 

“That was insane. He could kill someone with that.” You turned to Megumi, seeing him equally impressed. Then you gasped, swaying a little in place before Megumi brought his hands up to stabilize you. 

“What is it?” 

“I’m fine I just- I felt something stronger. Coming closer.” Your head began to hurt. 

“I told you to drop it.” He gruffed. Then he heard hurried steps behind you. Megumi turned just in time to see the boy from earlier zoom past him and he froze. An immense wave of curse energy stood out from the rest all of a sudden, there and then gone. 

The boy. 

“Go after him!” You closed your hands around the wire fence. 

“Stay here.” He said firmly before doing so, calling Ijichi-san so he could stay with you. 

You turned your attention back towards the building.

 What is it they had in this place? 

You had some time to rest as you waited for Megumi, but not a call came in. 

It’s been almost three hours since he left. 

Something was off. If that boy had anything to do with the cursed object they had to retrieve, Megumi would’ve been done with it soon enough. But the curse energy presence that irradiated from him was so strong. There was no way you were wrong. 

Unless you somehow were. 

“Do you feel that?” You said to Ijichi-san, pushing away from your leaning position against the side of the car. “There’s a curse-. No. More.” 

His worried look mirrored yours but you’d already ignored too many instructions. “You can’t go in there.” 

But what was it to ignore one more? 

“I’m sorry Ijichi-san.” You said before running towards the building. 

Megumi’s phone vibrated on his hand as he ran alongside Itadori towards the school. You both had only picked up a trace. The curse object was still at the school in the hands of a couple students that didn’t know what they were dealing with. If they had already broken its weakened seal, they were as good as dead.

“Ijichi-san.” He answered between hurried breaths. , “Is y/n okay?”

“I’m sorry, Fushiguro-kun.” He paused and Megumi felt fear start to bubble up inside him. “She went inside the school.”  

“We’re on our way.” With that the call ended, “We need to hurry.” He told the boy as he kept pushing his legs to go faster, “Fuck!” 

Inside the school, you managed to grab hold of a terrified girl and drag her away from a curse’s clutches. You’d lost sight of the boy that was with her amidst all the chaos. 

“Hey, hey, I’ll need you to breathe, okay? I’ll get us out of here alive but I need you to tell me where that thing you were keeping is.” You whispered to her, grabbing onto her shoulders. You could hear the curse spirit creeping and growling just on the other side of the wall that was hiding you from view. 

There was something behind you. You turn to see the boy, a curse trying to swallow him. Then something else just next to you, and next thing you knew it was grabbing you. The girl screamed as another took hold of her. There were too many. It seemed as if they were springing out of nowhere.  

Using your technique, you started to drain its cursed energy just until you were able to reach for your daggers. You stabbed it right in its middle and it let you go, enabling you to reach for the rest of your weapons and hit it until it was exorcised. You took down another using just the new boost of curse energy coursing through your body.

You looked for the curse at the end of the hall, the one that had grabbed hold of the boy and the girl. You couldn’t risk using your daggers, could you? If you did so and landed a hit, it would be a powerful one, but if you missed and hit one of the students… No way.

You felt something familiar then. 

Megumi.

“I know you’re mad but we have a bigger problem right now.” 

“You’re so hearing it later.” 

What could you do? Megumi was just as lost as you. That thing was trying to swallow those two along with the cursed object. If that happened they really were screwed. 

The sound of glass breaking made you both turn towards the window, the pink haired boy jumping in. 

“Itadori!” 

“What the hell is he doing here?!” 

Just like his strength demonstration earlier in the day, with a powerful punch, he got the cursed spirit to release the two students. 

That shut you up. “Well, that does it.” 

Megumi’s divine dogs took care of the rest. 

“Apparently there’s not enough stubborn people around.” He glared at you as he walked over to the boy named Itadori. “Good job.” 

“Good job to you too.” you cooed at the two doggies while they ate the curse and you retrieved your daggers.

You heard the boy laugh, “Who’s she? And what are those?” 

“Someone who's not supposed to be here.” you rolled your eyes. “Those are my shikigami. You can see them?” Itadori nodded. 

“The girl too.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh too then. Megumi had to bite back a smile at the sound. He was still mad at you. “Just so you know I’m entirely human.” 

“Oh.” 

Megumi proceeded to explain to a strangely calm Itadori a little about the curse spirits. You turned around having collected the last of your daggers, and just as Itadori was about to hand over the cursed object to Megumi, its unnerving pressure starting to make your head hurt and ears ring, you perceived another thing. 

“We have to get out of here fast!” You rushed over, all eyes on you and you barely had time to give Megumi a nudge before he looked up and decided what his next move would be. 

“Go!” His divine dogs were helping you and Itadori move the other two away in a beat, letting the curse crash down on him. 

“Fushiguro!” “Megumi!” Both of you cried out. You tried to stand up but stumbled. The constant turning on and off of your technique had worn you down, adding all the time you’d used it today. The couple of hours you took to rest weren’t nearly enough. 

That thing threw Megumi against the wall, the impact knocking the air out of him. You saw blood. The shikigami were released. This was bad. You couldn’t give in now.

“You okay?” Itadori eyed you worrily. 

“I’m fine, I need to help Megumi. Stay here.” 

“I’m helping t-” 

“Please. You’ve done enough. I’ll worry about you too.” You risked a smile, fighting over your agitation, as if to tell him, 

I’ll be fine.

“I’ll see you later. Stay back!” And you hurried after them. Jumping out of the hole that thing had made through the wall, you landed on top of it, one dagger in each hand digging into its body. It wailed and tried to shake you off. It succeeded, but you quickly released more of your daggers and landed a couple more hits before making contact with the ground.

No, no, no, no. Megumi’s head was throbbing and he couldn’t focus. His hopes of you finally listening to him vanished when he saw you jumping out at the cursed spirit. You did manage to hurt him before it sent you flying, rolling over the floor.

“Y/n!”

“I’m okay!” you choked out in pain. 

“Get away!” He knew there was panic in his voice. His throat hurt with it. He’s barely keeping it together now when Itadori follows through where you came from and attacks the cursed spirit. Why does no one listen to him? 

Megumi warns him but can’t keep him from doing the stupidest thing. He swallows the cursed object. 

Ew. 

You gag. 

He couldn’t be serious. 

You both stare in a mix of disbelief, anticipation and dread (and a little disgust to be honest). 

Either the boy dies from swallowing that poison, or- 

His mind stops racing with the possible outcomes and their consequences as he watches the curse get torn to pieces. 

Itadori’s body is now the vessel of the king of curses, Ryōmen Sukuna. 

He watches and listens in horror to its speech. Meanwhile, you were silently moving towards it. Its back is facing you, and like most seems totally unaware of your presence. The chances of dying have always been high, even more so today. So you’ll take one more chance. Your eyes meet his for just one second. You always loved his eyes. If this goes wrong and you really end up dying tonight, you hope to at least give Megumi an opening to escape and live.  

Megumi’s scream gets stuck in his throat and he can’t do anything as your hand makes contact with what once was Itadori’s body.

Your vision is filled by pure, unadulterated darkness. Screams in fear and laments fill your head. Your skin burns and your blood boils. It’s like a lightning strike, as bright as the white beam of cursed energy that crackles at the point of contact. The shock is so great it sends you out flying once again. But this time you don’t say anything, your body’s limp on the floor.

All there’s left is white noise. 

Sukuna turns towards you. It expects to be mad but instead finds itself perplexed that you even dared to touch it. Impressed, even. Though you barely made a mark on it, just a numb stinging where your hand had been. Before something else can happen, it finds itself stumbling backwards, the rightful owner of the body taking over.

“Huh? Fushiguro?”, Itadori brings a hand up to his head, “Where’s um-” He thinks of the name he’d heard Megumi say before, “Wh-Where’s y/n?” When he turns and spots you lying on the ground, unmoving, he’s scared. “Oh god-” He doesn’t get to take a step before Megumi’s yelling at him. 

“Don’t move!” His voice breaks at the end. His body is trembling out of anger, fear, he doesn’t know, but still takes his stance. “You’re no longer human. Under jujutsu regulation, Yūji Itadori, I will now exorcise you as a curse!” 

________

It had been 5 days since the incident at Yūji’s school, and Megumi found himself now at your bedside at the hospital.

You still hadn’t woken up.

That night while he was raking his scattered brain for what decision to make, Gojo had arrived. He’d run over to you then, dropping to his knees. He could barely see anything because of the tears blurring his vision. He tried to control his ragged breathing while he checked for your pulse. A heavy gasp of relief left him when he found it, a little weak but there nonetheless. His hands were on your face as his eyes tried to look everywhere at once to guess how bad you’d been hurt. There was a trickle of blood running down your nose, bruises at the side of your head, but the most noticeable injury was on your left arm, starting from your hand. There were open gashes on your palm as if it had been sliced with a knife, and from there up to your elbow, crooked lines that looked like burns. 

When Gojo had finished evaluating the situation with Itadori/Sukuna, Megumi turned to them to find his teacher holding onto the unconscious boy. Apparently Itadori could control Sukuna, so his teacher had asked him what they should do. Yūji seemed nice. Hell, he’d done such a stupid thing looking to save them. So he’d ask Gojo if he could save him. 

He’d broken down after. Repeating that it was his fault you’d been hurt, that he should’ve given you out the night before. He’d thought Gojo would be more upset. And he was very worried, but he’d told Megumi she’d made her choice, that while fighting curses they wouldn’t always be together and that he couldn’t protect her all the time. It’s not like she’d allow it either. And she was also very strong and could hold her own. If they were lucky you’ll push through one more time. 

He just couldn’t resist you, could he? 

So he’d tried to convince himself that it wasn’t his fault alone. It was yours for what you did to him. 

They’d tended to him quickly enough. He’d hit his head pretty hard, and had come out with several bruises and cuts all over his body and face. Rest was recommended but he would not stay away from you. 

On your second day at the hospital, you’d gotten a high fever. For a moment you’d gained a little consciousness but he wasn’t sure if that’d been for the better or worse. The scene of your sweaty body twisting in what seemed like agony, groaning and moaning in pain had only shook him more. That whole night you’d been restless with what seemed like nightmares. You’d scream, and he’d rush back into the room, having had to step out earlier. He’d clasped your hand, lost as to what else to do but repeating over and over that you were fine and he was right there with you. It lasted a little more until it was finally over. 

Suddenly he’d felt that tingly sensation from when your cursed technique was active. He recognized it. You’d explained it to him. You could activate it without means to “steal” the cursed energy, but to feel it, which took you little to no effort or strain, so it didn’t affect you or the other party at all. It felt like goosebumps all over his body. It wasn’t unpleasant. Just a little weird. You’d said to him that feeling his calmed you down. He stayed the entire night there with you, watching your now peaceful features, at your hand linked with his, the subtle white glow radiating from them giving him a little hope. 

Now, he thought about your visits to Tsumiki. 

“Tsumikiii! We’re here!”

“Keep it down!” He’d scold.

“C’mon, don’t be rude. Say hi.” 

If he talked to you like that, wouldn’t it make it more final? Was he accepting the idea of you staying like that for who knows how long?

He wasn’t sure if he could handle it. 

For a while he’d feared that maybe there was a curse lurking around him. It was starting to feel more real with each day it passed. 

Please not you too. 

“Hey,” his own voice caught him off guard. It sounded hoarse, his throat dry. “You can hear me, right?” 

“The other day, you knew it was me. You did that thing.” He rambled. “There’s no other reason. So you were right.” He let out a wet chuckle. “Maybe Tsumiki might be able to hear us. Well, mostly you. You’re the one that talks more.” 

“You’re going to wake up soon, right?” 

He waited for another sign. 

Sighing, he brushed the wetness from his eyes with the sleeve of his uniform after minutes passed without anything. He stood up. He had to go meet with Gojo and Yūji. 

Before stepping away, he leaned over to leave a kiss at the crown of your head. “I’ll be right back.” He whispered before breaking away. 

They got the call right before Yūji headed out to pack his stuff. 

“It’s y/n.” A smile like Gojo had ever seen took over Megumi’s face, “She’s awake.” 

“Really? That’s great!” The pink haired boy cheered. He’d also been worrying about what happened with you, feeling guilty for it. And you’d tried to protect him. The day he’d gone to see you at the hospital he’d seen how bad you’d gotten for a moment and the worry on Megumi’s face. You two seemed really close and it was clear you cared deeply for each other, recalling back seeing you while cursed spirit fighting.

Gojo’s soft smile was another sight. 

Yet he had to ruin it. 

“Did you kiss our little y/n-chan?” 

“What?!” The color coming up from Megumi’s neck up to his ears was a nice change to the ghostly pale of the last few days, alive with new light. So was the scandalous yet funny look on his face. “How did you-”

“You did?!” 

When you heard footsteps outside your door you turned towards it. 

The first to approach you was Gojo, ruffling your hair affectionately. “I’m glad you’re okay, kid.” 

What was he going to do with you?

You pulled his blindfold down. You were probably the only person able to get away with that. “Happy to see you too.” 

“You won’t be so happy soon.” At that you grimaced. You knew you wouldn’t get out of this unscathed. 

You then noticed Megumi standing near the doorway and your smile grew brighter if that was possible. Megumi was doing no better than you. In fact, he didn’t know what to do with himself. Should he hug you? Should he yell at you? 

Did you kiss her?

The teasing words from Gojo earlier got to him again somehow and he felt his face grow hot. You stared a little astounded at his blushing face. 

Damn. He must be really angry. 

“Hey.”  You settled with, suddenly shy.

Another voice called for you, getting you to look away, “Y/n!” 

“Itadori?” You stared at him, surprised, “How did you-?” You looked around for an explanation.

“Oh, that guy? It’s okay. I got it under control.” 

“So it’s still…?” 

“Yeah. It’s really annoying though. It just called me annoying. And said that it’s glad to see you again.” 

“Is it really?” You said with a grimace. That was… something. “How should I take that?” 

“I’d say it’s quite disconcerting.” Megumi muttered, finally speaking up.

“It says you have guts daring to touch it. It’s thinking whether to kill you or not the next time it gets a chance.” Yūji opened his eyes comically wide then frowned. “No you won’t. There will be no next time.” 

You scoffed, “I’m surprised it’s thinking about it.” 

“It says you’re funny.” 

“This is quite an unsettling conversation .” You chuckled, then continued, something else nagging at you,“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” you worried. 

“Not really. It felt funny where you touched me, and it was red for a while but now it’s gone.” He pushed down one sleeve of his t-shirt to reveal his shoulder. True to his word, there was no sign of injury. Then he turned to you again, his eyes downcast, looking at your arm, “I’m sorry about your arm though.” 

“Oh I’m fine.” You lifted your arm just a tad bit. You were still a little stiff and it hurt a little. It’ll probably scar but you were lucky it hadn’t been ripped off clean. 

“Okay, we should let the girl rest before we head off.”  Gojo dismissed the group. 

“Oh, that’s right! I’m coming with you guys!” Itadori told you before he waved goodbye and exited the room, Gojo following him but lagging seeing that Megumi didn’t move. 

“Don’t be too hard on her if you’re staying, Megumi.” And with that he was out too.

You looked down at your lap, entertaining yourself tracing a finger over the new scars on your left arm.

You felt his arms wrap around you delicately, afraid he might hurt you. He rested his head on top of yours. Your eyes widened, bringing a hand up tentatively to hold onto him. “Welcome back.” 

He could wait a little longer to scold you. 

You laughed, and pulled away. Lifting both your hands to cup his cheeks, your soft gaze met his eyes. You got to see them again after all.

 “I love your eyes.” 

He pouted. “I know. You’ve told me like, a thousand times.” Although it wasn’t the first time you did that, he had to break eye contact for a moment, entertaining himself looking at the monitor beside your bed. Your heartbeat was a little fast. That was good, he thought. Nothing like that night on the rooftop.

____________

Around eleven in the a.m., Megumi was on his way to the medical wing of Jujutsu High to go see you. He’d fallen asleep heavy as a rock for once in his own bedroom. He was dressed in the school’s uniform. Soon, Itadori, Gojo and him would head out to pick up the new, fourth first year student. 

He knocked on the door. 

“Just a minute!” you answered, and he heard you groan. 

“What are you doing?”  His voice sounded muffled from the other side of the door. 

At your lack of answer, he pushed open the door. There you were, up in the middle of the room with your back towards him. And struggling to put on your tee shirt. He stopped. 

“Megumi what the hell?!” 

“I’m-I’m sorry!” Not that you could see, but his eyes grew wider. Stuttering in place, he still laughed nervously, watching how your head was stuck inside the shirt. For one point it was good, for your face was burning in embarrassment .“Do you need help?” 

“No! Just wait outside or-or turn around!” Finally, your face was out through the hole of the shirt, yet you held back another groan trying to lift your arm.

“I really can’t see anything. Let me help you.” It was true. You had bandages around your middle, your chest almost entirely covered.  He walked the short distance between you and stepped right behind you. Megumi couldn’t help but stare at the red, purples and blues on your skin, some of the bruises peeking out of the bandages. Delicately, he brought his hand up to help put your arms through your shirt. You made a little noise of complaint as he lifted your left arm. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine.” You sighed. His fingers hovered over your skin as he gently pulled the fabric in place and then when he brought his hands up again to untuck your damp hair out of it. “Thank you.” 

He nodded when you turned around to face him. “Does it hurt a lot?” He worried.

You shook your head “Only bothers me when I try to raise it up.” 

“Why didn’t you have someone help you out?” 

“I just wanted to shower.”  You countered. “Was five days out. I totally needed one.” You added with a grimace. 

At that Megumi chuckled. You smiled at him, then noticed his attire, “Do you have something to do today? I thought you still had to rest.” 

“We’re just picking up the other first year.” 

“That was today? Why didn’t you say so? Now I have to get out of this thing and put on the uniform.” 

“You’re staying here.” Megumi stated. 

“What? But I want to greet her! And-And walking would do me good.” 

“You’ll greet her once we get here. You can walk around campus. Either that or I’ll lock you up, and you’ll have to settle on going around in circles in this room.” He threatened. 

“Are you still mad? It’s not even cursed fighting this time. We’re just picking her up.”  

“Yeah, like with the talisman.” He said sarcastically, then sighed. “I’m not mad just- Would you listen to me this time?” He practically pleaded, looking you in the eye. 

You wondered if he looked at you like that on purpose. “Fine.” you gave in. “Guess you’re right this time.” 

“You really mean it? You’re not sneaking out of here?”

You chuckled, “Fine, fine! I’m really staying.” You held your pinky up, and he linked his with yours. “Promise.” 

Megumi smiled wide this time, eyes crinkling at the corners. You sat on the bed for a little while longer and Megumi helped you brush your hair. 

The time to go came soon enough with Itadori looking for him, waving at you from the doorway. 

“And by the way, I was right both times.” He said to you before turning to leave.

 

Kugisaki Nobara had a strong personality, unafraid of giving a piece of her mind. Both Yūji and Megumi found out fairly soon, falling under her judgment. But she was good and handled herself well while curse fighting. Just the right amount of crazy. Maybe a little more too. 

When they were done with her test, and she and Yūji argued over where to go for dinner, Megumi got back to thinking about you and wondered what you were doing. 

“Fushiguro!”  He was snapped back to the present by her. “What do you think?”

“Sorry, I didn’t hear what you were saying.” 

“He’s probably thinking about y/n.” Yūji didn’t really mean for it to sound like teasing but it was done. Fushiguro glared at him. 

“Oh. Who’s that?” Nobara asked curiously, turning to look at Megumi now. 

“She’s a first year too.” 

 “There’s another one? And she’s a girl? Oh thank God!” 

“That sounded a little too happy.” Yūji muttered. 

“Why did she leave me here with just you two?” 

“You’re being really mean, you know?” 

“She stayed back resting. Got injured on a mission.” Megumi explained. 

“But she’s alright now. She’s pretty great.” Yūji chimed in excitedly. 

“And she’s your girlfriend?” 

“What? No!” Megumi denied shaking his head. The color on his cheeks didn’t help him much though.

“But you said you kissed her yesterday?” Itadori asked more than stated, confused. “Isn’t that right, Gojo sensei?” He turned towards the man, walking a little ahead to give the kids space but still at earshot.

“Just like Sleeping Beauty.” 

“It really was! She finally woke up after it!” Itadori chuckled. 

Megumi tried to get a word in. Those two really were blowing things out of proportion.

“You kissed her while she was unconscious? You perv!” The girl right about smacked him. 

“I didn’t!” The poor boy rubbed his upset cheek. He ducked his head. Thanks to those guys, they’d called the attention of a few passersby. “I just kissed her head! I told you that!” He hissed. 

“Oh. Right.” 

When they finally got back to campus, they spotted you in the school garden, sitting under the same tree where you met Megumi for the first time. You heard Itadori’s cheery voice call you and turned to see him coming with Nobara by his side, following Gojo. Then your eyes met Megumi’s, who kept walking away. He looked upset. You stood up, brushing the dirt off your clothes.

“Kugisaki Nobara, this is y/l/n y/n. Y/l/n y/n, this is Kugisaki Nobara.” Gojo went ahead with his flashy introduction, making you giggle. “I’ll let you kids get to know each other.” He ruffled your hair playfully before waving to the other two and leaving. 

“It’s so nice to meet you.” You smiled at her. 

“I so wanted to meet you too.” She returned the smile. You already liked her. And she was pretty too, you noticed looking at her pale skin, light brown eyes and her brown hair styled in a bob. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t go pick you up.” You said, not being able to help feeling self conscious under her stare, that went up and down and back up to your arm. You tucked your arms behind you. 

“It’s okay. The boys told me about what happened.”  She brushed you off understandingly. “They actually talked a lot about you.” 

“They did?” You looked at Yūji who immediately straightened up.

“Just nice things! It’s not like there are bad things, is it? Plus I just met you a few days ago.” Itadori said sheepishly. You smiled.

“And Fushiguro didn’t lie either. You’re so pretty! Your hair! Can I touch it?” 

“Megumi?” you felt your heartbeat take a quicker rhythm as your face started to warm up. “Oh, sure…”  You answered her question and she brushed her hands gently through it. “By the way, is Megumi okay?” 

Nobara halted.

“We probably teased him too much.” The boy grimaced, exchanging a look with Nobara.

“Is that it? Then he’ll be fine.” You tried to reassure them. “I do it all the time. And Gojo- Gojo sensei too. He’ll just need to get used to it. It’s sure gonna be even more lively around here.” You smiled. 

That evening, a furry visitor came into your room.

“Oh hello, you handsome.” You cooed at Kuro, crouching down to scratch the back of its ears as it wagged its tail happily. There was a small bag hanging from its collar. “Whatcha got there?” 

You took the bag and looked inside to find a small box. When you opened it, you saw they were sweets. You smiled, setting it aside to pet the dog, ruffling the hair around its head. “Well thank you. You know where Megumi is?” 

Megumi smiled before pushing himself from the wall and entering the room. “Hey.” 

“Hey.” you looked up, smiling back. 

“I thought I’d bring you something since you couldn’t come with us.” Megumi explained, bringing a hand up to his neck. He seemed suddenly nervous about something. 

“How’d it go with Yūji and Nobara?” 

“They’re fine. Gojo got their hopes up about going sightseeing and we ended up dealing with a cursed spirit.” You chuckled at that.

“They seem like they’re very good.” You agreed, nodding. “We chatted for a while…” You trailed off seeing he was still not looking at you. “Are you okay?” You stood up, Kuro looking to get back your attention.

That finally made him turn to look at you, worried gaze looking for his.

Megumi felt his skin get warmer, hands getting clammy. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times before he was able to start talking, “Listen, about the kiss-It wasn’t like that-”

“Kiss? Wh-What kiss?” 

Oh. 

He fucked up. 

Megumi was sure that those two would somehow bring it up to you too. He thought you were just going to pretend like you didn’t know. Turns out you didn’t know at all and he’d made it sound like there was something worth mentioning in the first place. 

“You kissed someone? Who?” You spoke up after minutes passed in silence. Saying that felt weird, but not good weird. It was only because Megumi had never mentioned anyone. That was the only reason. Or so you told yourself. 

“You. I mean I didn’t-  Gosh this is Gojo’s fault.” Frustratedly, Megumi brushed his hands over his face. 

A kiss, a kiss, a kiss. Since yesterday that’s all he’s been able to think about. 

Meanwhile you stared at him frozen and wide eyed, internally panicking. “You kissed me? When- What the fuck. Megumi, I need you to tell me what are you talking about.” 

“I didn’t kiss you like that. It was just a kiss to your head.” He breathed out a sigh.

“Oh.” 

Then to his surprise, you started laughing. “Is that why you were all moody earlier?” 

“I wasn’t moody.” He muttered, avoiding your gaze, cheeks burning. 

“You wanted to?” 

“What?” His voice came out a beat  late, weaker than intended. 

“To kiss me. Did you want to?” You asked again, taking advantage of whatever had possessed you at that moment, half teasing half serious. What were you even asking? And why? 

Megumi met your eyes again. He couldn’t tell if you were actually serious. Then he dared to look at your lips. 

He shook his head. “Not like that.” 

You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but it wasn’t that. “What do you mean?” 

“If I wanted to kiss someone I wouldn’t do it while they’re unconscious. Especially if it were for the first time and we weren’t even together.”  

You smiled softly, nodding. 

“You don’t have to worry about that anymore.” You walked over to him. Cupping his face, he leaned down for you to place a kiss at the crown of his head just like he’d done so.  “There.” You looked at him, eyes shining. He was sure his eyes were looking at you in the same way. “Now let’s eat up those sweets.” 

________

For the next week, you’re not able to train with the other first years. Instead, you’re left to do exercises to help you recover. Megumi is there to help you when he’s done with his own training. But when you’re back, you’re able to see your classmates' abilities. As you already knew, Yuuji is stupidly, naturally strong. He’s not even using cursed energy yet. 

He’s your first opponent. 

“I’m not sure I want to hit you…”  Itadori says unsure as he comes to stand in front of you. “Are you sure you’re fine?” 

“You should worry about yourself, Itadori.” Megumi comments, a small smile threatening to take over his features when you turn to look at him with a playful grin of your own. 

“What?” That puts Itadori on alert. Next thing he knows is you’re going at him, and he manages to lift his arms just in time to cover his face. “Whoah!” 

Nobara explains to you her cursed technique since you weren’t there to watch her during her test. Since yours is trickier to show, you wait to show her until the end, when you’re all done sparring each other. 

Finally it’s your turn to face Megumi. The other two watch as you try to land a hit on each other. You look so comfortable, used to each other’s movements. It’s more like you’re dancing instead of trying to fight each other, so in sync. At last, you manage to swiftly swipe Megumi off his feet and he lands on his back. He lets out a groan as you get on top of him to pin him down, laughter bubbling up your throat. He looks up at you and grins before he frees himself and turns you both around. You let out a squeal now that your back hits the ground. It’s his turn to laugh, both of your chests heaving.

Megumi stares at your face, your eyes bright staring up at him, face flushed and slightly sweaty because of all the time you’ve been training, very much like he is (his hair’s falling down over his forehead at this point). You’re just strikingly beautiful to him. And he finds that he really wants to kiss you now. The thought paralyzes him. He knows his guard is down, and he’s begging inside for you to move before he’s overcome by whatever is shifting inside of him, gives and leans in. 

The other two share a look. 

It kinda feels wrong to be watching you two. 

But the thought comes and goes as they quickly turn again to the scene in front of them, not wanting to miss anything.  (They’re barely breathing in anticipation). 

Then you’re saying something. Megumi can’t hear anything though. His eyes trailed down to your lips the moment they moved and he can’t seem to stop from shamelessly staring. 

“Megumi?” you repeat. 

“Hmm?” Just a noise is all he’s able to let out to let you know he’s listening now. 

“I asked if it’s okay for you to help me show Kugisaki my technique.” 

He’s back in the gym where they’re practicing. 

“Yes.” He nods, staring back at your eyes. He doesn’t move.  

“Maybe let me go?” You chuckle nervously.

Megumi’s cheeks burn by having to be called out and he quickly nods, moving to help you into a sitting position and brushing any possible dirt off you before kneeling in front of you. 

You call Nobara and Itadori over. They’re sporting very disappointed expressions that you’re totally oblivious of. That’s until you mention what you’re about to do and they forget all about the scene they’d just witnessed, all excited. Yuji hadn’t gotten to see what your technique was yet. 

“It’s not really that exciting.” You tell them, suddenly bashful for the attention before turning to Megumi. 

He nods, letting you know he’s ready. You focus, the bright flow of cursed energy flowing through Megumi’s body coming to your vision. You avoid the points where it concentrates the most since it’s just for a quick demonstration. You settle on bringing a hand up to the right side of his chest, gently but firm. 

Megumi’s heart pounds on his chest as he watches you intently, just like the other two do as if he’s too witnessing it for the first time. There’s grey in your eyes now, the dark brown replaced briefly for silver, and white shiny light begins to glow from under your hand. He feels the fuzzy feeling again. You hear someone gasp besides yourself, and are reminded to stop before you overdo it. 

“Holy shit, y/n, you’re glowing!” The difference from this to someone who's using cursed energy defensively to protect their body, is that there’s no cursed energy surrounding you and the light’s coming from within you still. You don’t react, unable to concentrate on anything but Megumi and what you’re doing.

You smile at the boy before placing your hand to his chest again, reverting what you did. When you stop, the giddy sensation leaves him with your touch. Then you’re back to normal. 

“Are you okay?” You always make sure he is. He nods, not missing the touch of your fingertips for long as you bring your hand up to his cheek now. 

“That was so cool. Your eyes-!” Nobara starts but cuts herself off. 

“Me next! Me next!” Yuuji bounces excitedly. Megumi gets hold of your hands. You look at him and before you turn to Yuuji again to gently explain why you have to decline his wish, Megumi beats you to it. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.” 

The pink haired boy pouts, “Why not?” 

“You don’t have control of your cursed energy yet. It might hurt you. And even then, y/n might get in touch with Sukuna’s again.” 

You can only nod, Megumi taking the words out of your mouth. Itadori stares down at your arm, and so do you before taking it out of Megumi’s hold and hiding it away. The boy frowns at your action. 

“Oh. right.” Yuji nods quickly in understanding. 

“Well,” you hurry to break away the uncomfortable atmosphere of being the center of attention for too long, “We’re done for today, right? Let’s go grab some drinks”.

__________

It was a free day, and you’d all made plans to go shopping. Well, Nobara wanted to go shopping, Itadori wanted to go to the movies and Megumi was just tagging along. You didn’t mind shopping and actually wanted to buy a couple things. Also you wanted to spend some time with your friends just hanging out for a change. 

“So, is Gojo sensei like your dad or something?”  Itadori asked. You didn’t know what brought this topic of conversation. 

“Please do not say that in front of him.” Somewhere in Japan, Gojo sneezed. 

“Why not? He’s awesome!” 

“Definitely don’t say that in front of him either.” 

“I mean, yeah. I guess.” you spoke fondly, “He’s been taking care of me- of us since we’re little.” But what would he think if he heard you say something like this? 

When you got to the shopping district, you were dragged from store to store, both boys following you and chatting between themselves. 

“What about this one?” Nobara showed you another outfit. You nodded. She had a keen fashion sense. And a lot of bags already, apart from the ones the boys were holding, seating at the front while they waited. “You’re not trying on anything?” She wondered. 

“Oh, no.” you dismissed her, “I already got some stuff.” 

You’d bought a couple of sunglasses and some arm sleeves. It was getting hot to keep wearing long sleeve shirts all the time to hide your scars. 

“But I’m talking about clothes.” Nobara whined. “If you don’t buy some I’ll have to give you some of what I got. And I don’t want to.” 

You snorted. “Yeah, I don’t think they’re my style either.” 

Then, she spotted something behind you. “That’s perfect!” 

“What is it?” you smiled at her eagerness, turning to follow her line of sight. It was a very pretty black midi dress. Sleeveless, heart shaped neckline, layered skirt that bunched up nicely. 

“You have to try it on!” She practically shoved the dress into your hands and pulled you along with her towards the fitting rooms. 

“What am I even gonna use it for? Curse fighting?” 

“Don’t be silly. You can use it whenever. Like, next time we hang out.”

You hadn’t worn a dress in so long, probably since you were little and Gojo bought you clothes after taking you in. You remembered that day. It was one of your favorites. He’d brought Megumi and Tsumiki too. 

As she shoved you inside the small room and was making her way to another herself, she stopped at the door. At that moment, the little devil on her shoulder popped up. 

Megumi’s phone vibrated. Kugisaki was calling.

He picked it up. 

“What is it?” 

“We need your opinion on something. Wait outside the fitting rooms.” 

“You need both of us…?” 

“Just you is okay.” 

She hung up. 

“Hold this.” He threw more bags Itadori’s way, the poor boy practically buried in his seat on them. 

“Where are you going!” 

You stared at your reflection in the mirror. It really was a perfect dress. Turning slightly from side to side, you watched the skirt move lightly. You opened the door to show Nobara but she didn’t seem to be done yet. 

“Nobara?” 

“Y/n?” you heard Megumi’s voice just outside. 

“Megumi? What is it?” You turned the corner that led to the front.

Even if Megumi wanted to tell you right away a list of compliments, he couldn’t. You looked breathtaking. You watched his eyes go wide as he stared at you up and down. You laughed, bashful, fidgeting with your hands behind your back and swaying a little in place to show off the dress. “I know, I told Nobara it was too much. You needed something?” 

“No- Kugisaki- I mean. It’s just right, you look-”  Nobara smiled from where she was eavesdropping, unable to witness the scene without being spotted by you but with a very clear picture of Megumi’s reaction in her head. 

“Whoah! You look beautiful, y/n!” Yuuji appeared, beaming at you and somehow lifting his very occupied hands to give you a thumbs up. Megumi mentally kicked himself for blundering, seeing you now blushing over Yuji’s compliment. If only he’d been able to speak, he would’ve earned that reaction from you. Nobara facepalmed. “You think so too, right, Fushiguro?” He added, flashing a knowing grin at his friend who was probably blushing harder than you. 

“Yeah.” 

“Thank you, boys.” 

Then tragedy happened. Yuji lost hold of one of the bags and as he fumbled to get hold of it again, he succeeded. Only that the bag opened and one shirt hit the ground. 

You all froze, then Megumi reacted, picking up the shirt. Nobara wasn’t there. She wouldn’t notice. 

You were wrong. 

Maybe it was a sixth, or seventh sense, she heard the ruffle of the bags or the silence that followed was too loud. You didn’t know. 

“You idiots!” 

________

“How long have you liked Fushiguro?” You nearly choke on your water at that. Nobara and you were sitting on a bench next to the field outside, having been done practicing. Yuuji and Megumi were still at it, only because Yuji wouldn’t stop. “I’ve been meaning to ask for the past week but can’t seem to get those two out of our hair.” 

You opened your mouth only for her to cut you off, “If you say you don’t like him I swear it’s bull.” 

You closed it again, unsure of what to say now. When you were little kids, sure. It was true you had a little crush on Megumi. But it was just an innocent thing from back then.  Right? 

Bullshit. 

Not so deep down you knew you’d fallen for him. You knew he loved you just like you loved him, but you didn’t think he’d want to change how things were between you. You were just a friend to him. 

“He doesn’t love me like that.”  you entertained yourself fiddling with your arm sleeve. 

“Are you kidding me?” 

“What?” 

“He totally adores you. He looks at you like you hold the stars and the moon and the whole solar system.” 

You chuckled. “Even if that were true, I don’t think he wants a girlfriend. Especially if it’s me. Not when we do what we do.” 

“It is true. So what, you’re going to hold back just because you’re afraid? That’s a waste of time and worrying a whole lot about nothing.” 

You looked over at Megumi, who, as if he could tell you were looking at him, turned and gave you a small smile. Yuji noticed him looking over at the two of you and waved animatedly.

Nobara’s eyes softened looking at you, “He’s right there right now, you know?” 

___________

Itadori Yūji was dead. 

There’d been a mission. The sudden apparition of a cursed womb above Eishu Detention Center gave you no option but for you four to go tend to it, no sorcerer on par with a possible special grade curse available. 

Another special grade in what? Three weeks? 

The goal of the mission was to rescue five inmates that were still inside the second building. After, you’d head out. One instruction was clear: 

Do not engage in a fight. 

Yet right now, Megumi and Yuji were arguing. You’ve come into the second building and noticed things were very wrong right away. For a moment you were also trapped, but thanks to Megumi’s divine dogs you could find your way out of what looked like an Innate Domain. The gruesome sight of three mutilated bodies on the floor as you stepped further in only increased the tension.

“I know you’re keen on this idea of saving lots of people and guiding them to proper deaths. But think, how are you going to feel when someone you save goes on to kill someone else later?” 

“So? Why’d you bother saving me then?” 

“Guys! There’s-” 

“You both need to cut it out!” Nobara lost it too, “Ugh! What the hell is wrong with the two of you?Are you both idiots?” 

“Where’s Shiro? Megumi-” 

“This is hardly the time and place to be acting like-”

“Nobara!” You tried to reach her just before a pool of darkness appeared and swallowed her up. 

“Kugi…saki?” Itadori looked in your direction, meeting your scared expression. Then you gasped, bringing your hands up to your face, catching on to what Megumi was looking at. His divine dog had been destroyed.

“We have to run!” 

It was too late. The cursed spirit appeared right between the two boys, and they froze in place. 

Itadori snapped back first. He tried to attack the cursed spirit with Slaughter Demon but he didn’t get to, his hand getting severed and the dagger breaking in half. 

“Yūji-!” You felt a sudden surge of cursed energy and your eyes widened. You created a shield with your own cursed energy just in time before the special grade sent a pure blast of it out, you being right in its line of shot. It sent you stumbling back, almost hitting the wall on the other side. 

Itadori shouts your name. Megumi yanked him by his sleeve, trying not to trip over his own feet by trying to get to you as quickly as possible. 

“You okay?” You nodded hastily as they helped you back to your feet, still checking if you weren’t hurt. 

“Yūji, your hand-”

“We need to split up.” Itadori says, daring a glance at the special grade. It seemed to be taunting you. “Give you guys time to find Nobara and get out of here.” 

“We can’t stay! We’re not supposed to fight it!” Megumi yelled.

“We don’t have too many options. It’s not like it’s going to let us run away.” You look at him. 

“I can fight. Sukuna can.” Itadori corrects himself. “If I die, you die, right? So you’re helping.” He addresses it. 

“You’re wrong, boy. I still have 18 other pieces of my soul out there.” Sukuna mocks. “Oh, well. I can’t control this body, so do whatever you want. Just know that I’ll kill the punk and his girl before that curse gets a chance, then find the other one and do the same to her.” 

“I won’t let you do that.” Itadori says angrily. 

“Keep focusing on me and you are all dying anyway.” Sukuna says before he falls silent. 

“We can’t trust that guy. Let’s go!” 

“You have to go.” Itadori insisted, looking at both of you. “I’ll keep it busy while you get Kugisaki and get out. Once you’re safe, give me some sort of signal.” 

“You don’t stand a chance! Fighting that thing with one hand?!” 

“I’ll stay back with him.” You spoke up and both turned to look at you.

“No way.” Megumi refused, shaking his head to emphasize his point. “You’re not staying here. None of you are.”

“You can’t stop me.” You said decidedly. “It’ll be fine. If he switches with Sukuna I’ll sit back. Find Kugisaki and we’ll meet you outside.” 

Megumi shook his head again while you nodded, a hand on his cheek. “You better.” 

But you didn’t. You tried to coordinate with Yūji, shielding him every time he’d go for a hit while you tried to get close to be able to touch it and steal its cursed energy. You managed to do so once, and that got you to hit it back with it while Yūji landed a good punch. It wasn’t nearly enough. After that, it was onto you, but you realized it too late. It seemed to have figured to get rid of you first, and deliberately left an opening. Just as you were about to touch it, it swiftly got out of range and brought down his claw-like hand slashing through your torso. The scream that left you felt like it cut your throat, piercing and filling Yūji with dread, before the curse let out another blast of cursed energy at him and he was shot backwards and away, you unable to protect him.

He didn’t hear you when you quickly called out his name. All Itadori could hear was a ringing in his ears that tried to muffle Megumi’s words. He was right. You should’ve left him. And now you might die because you wanted to protect him. And he was going to die too. He didn’t want to die. Not like this. He used to think he was strong. Strong enough to save himself, to save others. To choose how he was gonna go out. 

“Yūji!” In a gap of clarity, he hears you cry out his name. “It’s Megumi’s signal!” 

You’re still on the floor, dragging your body trying to hide out. There’s a hand holding your middle, you feel the blood trickle out in alarming amounts with every strained movement. Your breathing is heavy. You sense it before you turn towards it. You see the black marks on its skin and when he opens his eyes, they’re red. Yūji’s out. 

It’s Sukuna.

You stop. Partly hoping he won’t perceive you if you stay as still as possible, partly because you’re dizzy now, tired and losing a lot of blood. It seems to be reflecting about something. Then it turns to you suddenly. 

You’re pretty sure it’s pathetic, the way you drag yourself back and away from it. Then you reach the border, tiny pieces or rubble falling onto the abyss below. Yūji’s still there, you remember. If Sukuna tries something Yūji will switch back. So you turn from the void and hold its stare as firmly as you can with your swirling head.

“You’re pretty beaten up.” It leans down and brings a hand up to grab your chin. You flinch, holding back a whimper. “It’ll be no fun to kill you like this now. You might just die as it is.” It grins. Then an idea flashes through its mind. “Unless…”

“Hey, you.” He calls to the cursed spirit. Even it’d frozen. Now, scared, it launches an attack at Sukuna. “You’re not very smart, are you?” It harshly lets go of its hold on you, fully turning towards the curse, sneering. 

There’s nothing you can do but watch as Sukuna finally takes on the cursed spirit. Only until he deploys his Domain Expansion. That’s when everything goes black. 

Megumi succeeds in getting Nobara and himself out. When she’s safe with Ijichi, he stays behind. He’s just about to go back in there. What if Itadori can’t switch back? What happens to you? What if he took too long and you’re both dead? 

Then he knows. The special grade must be dead. The Domain closed off. He’s hopeful that you and Itadori will come back safely. That is, until he senses something else. His breath gets stuck on his throat. Behind him. He quickly turns and everything crumbles to the ground. 

Sukuna’s holding you in its arms. You’re unconscious, your head lulling uncomfortably down, a river of blood coming out from a wound on your torso. He can’t tear his eyes away from it.

“Relax, she’s still alive. Barely.” The curse speaks. “If it wasn’t for her, the brat would’ve died before he could’ve switched with me.” 

“Itadori-”

“Oh he’s not coming back.” It smiles maliciously. “Really, I’m in such a good mood right now. You should focus on what’s important.” It really was enjoying the look on Megumi’s face, savoring the fear in it. “I could heal her.” 

Megumi studied him. Itadori’s hand. He’d healed it and overall looked just fine. But you were different. Last time you’d gotten close to it you almost died. He looked at your pale face, the red pooling on the floor. You were dying right now. “Why would you do that?” 

“Just for the hell of it.” 

Sukuna laid you down on the floor with surprising gentleness for a curse. Ripping the already ruined side of your uniform, it placed a hand over your wound, and Megumi watched as it began to close. The action ripped a pained scream out of you, for a moment alarming the boy before you were out again. When he looked down, the wound was gone, only fine, faint scars as tell you were ever hurt. 

Sukuna straightened up and Megumi rushed to kneel by your side. You were better now. You probably still needed to go to the hospital for further treatment. He looked up, “Itadori, you can switch up now-.” 

So rude. “I told you, he’s not coming back. The brat had it coming for trying to use me without making some kind of deal. He’s having a little trouble taking control.” 

“What are you-?” 

 Sukuna lifted a hand to bring through his chest, ripping Itadori’s heart out. ““I’m taking your friend hostage.” Then, it revealed another one of his fingers, swallowing it. The cursed spirit from back there should’ve had it. “For good measure. But I really don’t think he wants to die. You should’ve seen him crying back there.” 

“Now that I’m free, and since I did you a favor, you get to entertain me for a while just until you die. Or I can kill her too. A pity, after all that. Then kill you.” 

Next day, you deal with the aftermath. 

You all try to take in that Yūji is really gone, that none of you were able to do something more to get him out too. You’re also upset about Shiro and Orochi, and even though Megumi grumbles that you know shikigami aren’t pets and not exactly dead, you know he’s upset about it too. 

There’s another thing bothering you that will have to wait. But right now, you’re going to train with the seconds years, having to deal with an Exchange Event on top of it all.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Nobara took a drink of her water bottle, pausing for a moment after being thrown around by Panda. You were also stopping your reign of terror against poor Inumaki. He’d never seen you so aggressive before, even considered using his cursed speech to slow you down. Way to go spooking cute boys. “One of you should stop this routine of trying to sacrifice your lives for each other and confess that you’re in love instead.” Nobara didn’t want to wait. 

You didn’t want to bring it up at the moment. You were busy, so you tried to brush her off. “How could we be thinking about that after what just happened?” 

“You’re going to curse Itadori if you try to put this on him now.” 

“Guess y/n’s been keeping you on your toes, Megumi.” You heard Maki talk to the boy as they sparred. “You’ve gotten better.” With a grin, she smoothly spun around, landing a hit with her spear square in Megumi’s chest, making him fall back onto the ground with force, “Still, I win.” 

“God she is amazing.” Nobara fangirled while you nodded. 

“Oi! You two come back here!” The second year called. 

“We’re going to get our asses whipped.” You muttered before making your way to them.

After Maki gave you a beating -thankfully not as bad and disgraceful as the last time-, you practiced three against three. Rules were clear enough, or so everyone thought at first. First years against second years. Everything was valid as long as it didn’t end in needless injuries/threatened your lives. 

That was, until Megumi had accidentally sent a punch your way, mistaking you for one of the second years. You’d managed to dodge it, but you’d snapped, and you were now aiming for him. 

He raised his hands to block your punches, surprised at the fury behind them, “Hey, I’m sorry! I thought you were-What are you doing-!” 

Everyone else stopped to watch, stunned by your not so sudden outrage. They’d noticed you’d been acting odd before but figured it had something to do with the outcome of yesterday’s mission. They weren’t entirely wrong. 

All Megumi could do was dodge and try to parry you, lost as to the reason for your hostility. He got a grip on both of your forearms, finally restraining you, “Y/n what the hell?!”

You swiftly lowered yourself, one of your legs sticking out as you spun and took Megumi down. 

Behind you, the others displayed a variety of reactions. 

Nobara had her arms crossed, chin up, frowning at Megumi even though the boy couldn’t see it. That’s what you get. She resisted the urge of shouting at you to beat him up further. 

Maki was grinning, someone might say a little wickedly, while inside she felt a little proud seeing the improvement of your movements. 

Toge whistled, impressed (and thankful this time around he was not your target).

And Panda stared, jaw slack and like the others -except Nobara-, with no idea of what was happening.

“I should ask you that!” You scoffed, unamused, staring down at him. “What were you thinking?! Following a curse’s whim letting it heal me and then in exchange you fight it?!” 

His eyes widened as he sat up, “You weren’t supposed to know that.”

“Yeah, because if it wasn’t bad enough already, you were also going to keep things from me.” 

“How did you-”

“That’s not important!” 

���I was thinking of saving you!” He shouted back, then his breath got caught when he noticed you were crying. He stood up, rushing over to you but you backed away. 

“And what? You die instead? What’d make you think I’d be okay with that?” 

“It could have killed me anyway.” 

“Then we both died!” You exclaimed, “What if Yūji didn’t switch back when he did? It wouldn’t have been just him that I couldn’t do anything for.” Your voice broke, “I could’ve lost you too. You’d think you’d saved me but I’d be just as gone.” 

You looked at him a moment longer, before you turned and hurried away. 

Frustrated, Megumi debated whether to follow you or not. Of course you would be upset for what he did, but he’d meant it and was not going to apologize for doing whatever it took at that moment to not lose you. When you didn’t show up for lunch, he decided to at least make sure you ate something. There was no answer when he knocked on the door to your room. He thought you were just ignoring him when he called, so he opened it to find that you weren’t there.

You’d shut yourself in one of the empty classrooms, figuring that no one would show up there. Your stomach growled and you sighed, looking out the window with your head resting on top of your arms that were on top of your knees. You really should go eat something after all that training. You were starving.

Scuffing noises against the door startled you on your seat. Pushing your legs away from your chest, you slowly stood up and walked over to find the source of it. 

The best delivery boy, Megumi’s divine dog, was at the other side of the door. You couldn’t help but chuckle as you crouched down to be at its level, a few stray tears falling. “This is so cheating, don’t you think?” 

Love brought conflicting feelings. Even though you were upset, it still warmed your chest that Megumi gave you space while still being caring. 

The students from Kyoto showed up, taking the opportunity of the principal coming over to go over the Exchange Event plans. It wouldn’t be a big deal, if it weren’t for their intentions of provoking them. 

Nobara instantly got roped with Mai, Maki’s twin sister. You stood up to your friend’s side, wary of the second year. You gritted your teeth when she started talking about Yūji. 

Then there was Aoi Todo. 

With a question very off topic. 

“What kind of woman’s your type?” 

Is he for real?

“Yeah, Fushiguro, why don’t you tell us your type?” Nobara decided to join in, fighting a knowing grin to try and sound innocent. You knew better than that. You elbowed her. 

Megumi, without really catching up to what he was doing, looked over at you. Your eyes widened for a second that you hope wasn’t enough for him to notice before he turned to the third year. Aoi had noticed this little interaction and was grinning, already expecting an answer.

“Why would I want to discuss my taste in women? Especially with you, a guy I just met?”  

Todo’s grin faltered, “C’mon. It’s clear you have your eye in one.”  

“What are you talking about?” 

“You haven’t acted on it?” 

Megumi stuttered, not sure what the deal was with the guy. It’s not like it was his business. Much less that he was going to confess anything right there like that.

Then this guy started tearing up. “I knew it. You’re boring, Fushiguro.” 

______________

Itadori Yūji  was not dead. 

He had just sprung up in front of everyone like a jack-in-the-box right before the Exchange Event started. 

You stood there petrified in place while the boy panicked by how your faces paled and fell. Not the reaction he was expecting apparently. As if coming back from the dead was the norm. 

Nobara was the first to snap back, seemingly ready to pounce on him and beat him up, but there were tears in her eyes, giving away that she was happy to see him. Megumi stared at her before you stared at each other. You could see he was happy too, and unlike Nobara, you did start crying, making Yūji jump out from the box frantically. But they were happy tears. Megumi smiled softly at you while you squeezed the air out of the pink haired boy in a hug. You could be tough but you were such a cry baby too.

Nobara did punch Itadori eventually (she couldn’t do much more. There was an Event they had to win so she couldn’t outshape him too badly). 

“So,” Itadori began, whispering loudly to Nobara, still holding up the memorial photo frame before his face, “How are those two doing?” Thank goodness you weren’t at earshot. 

“Terrible. And you dying didn’t help exactly.” The girl reproached. 

“Well, sorry for getting my heart ripped out.” 

The first competition: 

The Wacky Cursed Spirit Exorcism Race.

Megumi with his shikigami, and you, would be the best scouts. Thus, they’d split in groups to cover ground quicker, Maki with him, you with Nobara and Toge with Panda. Yūji was left to deal with Todo. Something about how the Kyoto students proceeded, though, told you something was off. All of them seemed to be targeting Itadori. 

Hunting the curse spirit be damned. Everyone then went after a different target. 

One thing about you was: 

Your sense of direction sucked. So when Nobara got blown away by a strong gust of wind product of the girl with the broom from Kyoto, and you ended up alone in the woods, you feared you might’ve been lost. That would be the case, if you didn’t have cursed energy to guide you. So following your senses, you went along like that as you’d been doing for the event. There were people everywhere using cursed energy so it was difficult to pick a direction. And there were still the curses you were supposed to be hunting. A certain wave of cursed energy stood out the strongest, so you followed it thinking it could possibly be the second grade cursed spirit. Still, if you couldn’t reach Itadori or fight any of the Kyoto students, winning this thing would be good for yourself and the others. Nobara wanted to help Maki, and so did you. 

“Run.” The voice echoed through. 

“Inumaki senpai?” Your eyes found the source of the voice before he was running in your direction, a startled look on his face as he pulled you along and your body finally followed his command. You dared a glance back to try and figure out what made Inumaki react this way, the source of the strong cursed energy you felt still overwhelmingly near. That’s when you saw it, what was for sure a special grade curse. Its body was white, a cloth over where its left arm should be, two black lines zigzagging its face vertically, with two small branches where eyes usually are. 

This battle was full of curveballs. 

Inumaki reached the buildings where Fushiguro and Kamo were fighting. They’d stopped as soon as they heard an explosion, big branches shooting up by work of the curse. He’d lost you at some point while dodging the curse’s attacks. When he joined the other two, they noticed he obviously was preoccupied by the situation, but there was something else by the way he kept looking around as if something else might pop out of nowhere. 

“Is there another one?” Megumi asked him. Toge shook his head. He didn’t know that. 

“Was there someone else with you?” Was Kamo’s guess. With wide worried eyes, he turned to Megumi. 

You’ve just reached the river when something comes crashing in your direction. It’s the curse. It’s attacking you the moment it spots you. You shield yourself with cursed energy before any of its projectiles hit you. Its body is too tough for your knives to hurt it, but Megumi’s shikigami comes to your help and then both him and Maki gang up on it. 

It happens too fast when Megumi’s hit, a curse bud growing from his stomach. Maki gets distracted and she’s hit too but still she goes to fight while you check up on Megumi. You’d kept your calm, and quickly had resolved what you had to do. 

“What are you doing?” Megumi winces when you place your hands near where the curse sprout is. 

“That thing said it feeds off cursed energy.” He has good control of his cursed energy output, but you use your ability to steal whatever much left you can to reduce its effect. 

“That’s enough- You need to stop. Y/n-”  you’re so focused, his voice becomes background noise when you turn to see how Maki is doing. She dropped Playful Cloud after one of the curses hits and now it has her caught on one of its branches.

You face them both fully, all of the cursed energy making your body buzz with euphoria. With a pure blast of it, you break the branch holding Maki and send the curse a few feet away. That’s enough time for backup to come. Soon, you spot Yūji and Todo.

You sigh before your legs give out. 

“Shit, shit, why the hell did you do that?” Megumi stumbles on his feet, falling to his knees again by your side before having to prop himself up on his elbow when he tumbles to the side. He hovers over you, the last flash of silver leaving your eyes, blood coming out of your nose. 

You laugh and he thinks you might be delirious. “Why do you do it, Megumi?” 

“Because I love you!” He’s crying, some of his tears falling on your cheeks. 

Your eyes are wide in surprise and wonder product of his words. You bring a hand up to brush the tears away and cup his face with a soft smile on your face. “Then you know why I do it.” 

His love for you had always been steady. With how your lives were, he’d kept holding back from his heart’s demand to try new ways of loving you. He couldn’t stand it anymore. Whether you were the one that saved him or killed him. 

Megumi leans down and presses his lips to yours, eyes shut tight while you melt onto him. Warmth spreads from your chest and you swear you feel it all in the space between you, under the palm of your hand that still caresses his face tenderly. 

He breaks away but stays close. You meet his eyes. 

“I love you, Megumi.”  

Your hand falls and it splashes on the water, your eyes fluttering close. 

“No.” He whimpers before he chokes on the sobs trying to shake out of his chest and falls into a coughing fit, blood trickling out of his mouth from the corner of his lips. He falls completely, laying by your side as he caresses your face. His vision goes blurry, lightheaded and teary eyed, before everything disappears.

You feel a weight on your hand. You squint your eyes open, and tilting your head you come face to face with a sleeping Megumi. His hand is clasped in yours between your bodies. You’re in your room. You bring your hands up to leave a kiss on his. The tiny action seems to be enough to wake him up, eyelids fluttering open slowly. He’s fully awake when he sees you are too.

“Hi.” 

A beat passes. His face scrunches up and you do your best to hold back a laugh. “ ‘Hi’?” 

“What is it?” 

“You think you can just say ‘hi’ after passing out right after you said you loved me?” 

“I was just tired.” you giggled and he stared at you incredulously.

Oh my God, he was sulking over that. 

“I tell you I love you all the time, Megumi.” 

“That- It was different.” You were getting to him but you couldn’t help but push further.

“Wanna hear it again?” 

He didn’t answer, but the pink hue of his cheeks was enough for you.

“I love you.” 

He hid his beautiful face on the crook of your neck, leaving a kiss, his spiky hair tickling your skin making you giggle again.

“Ah- They’re both awake!” Itadori shouted from the doorway, and Kugisaki peered from over his shoulder. The pink haired boy was holding two pizza boxes and the girl was carrying a bag with their drinks. 

You hadn’t had an easy life. But Megumi had you, and you had him. You would always fight for each other. And you had good friends, a family. You didn’t know what the future might bring you, but right now this was okay.

A/N: Hello first jjk fic I’m nervous. This is the longest fic I’ve ever written (if you take my hq!! inako series separately. Btw if you like hq!! you can check those out :D). I learned that a problem when fics start to get long it’s not that it’s long but not being sure where to stop. If you’re overdoing it or if you missed a chance to add a certain scene. Let’s see if this doesn’t flop. Not that it matters much if it does bc I just might still write more XD. The title of this fic came from a tweet that said that, that someone had quoted with pictures of Clancy and Torchbearer LMAO (yes I’m a tøp fan) and I thought oh shit that really fits this one. To everyone reading a big, big thank you!!

Notes:

I thought the first place they’d put you in if you said you were seeing such things as cursed spirits would be the loony bin 😭. So yeah, that first thought resulted in the birth of this fic. 

I kinda got a little inspired by Maggie Evans/Victoria Winters from “Dark Shadows” (2012) for reader’s backstory.

Your family had been on the sorcerers’ radar for a while. Once Gojo graduated he’d stumbled upon a file that mentioned the case and learned about your family. That led him to you.

Gojo takes you in months after becoming the Fushiguro’s guardian.

Gojo releases Infinity just a beat before you jump to hug him. He’d only released it so you could reach for his hand before (techniques are tricky for me either because I’m stupid or bc I really haven’t read the manga (I’ve been freely seeing spoilers tho lmao so I have an idea of what’s going on) and I take they’re better explained in it (?). I assume he can focus Infinity to certain parts of his body like I saw on Gojo's past arc episodes).  

You practically start living at Jujutsu High and get your own room there. When he’s out for missions there would be someone around to check up on you.

Yes, Gojo did your ponytails.

Since Gojo had taken in Megumi months prior, he’d already begun training. His technique had already begun manifesting too.

You’re wearing some of Megumi’s clothes that he’d left behind at Jujutsu High and are now too small for him until Gojo gets you clothes. 

That scene is so cute to me but my brain can’t help but go, “Can I pet that dawg?” every time and I end up laughing like an idiot.

You were confused and overwhelmed by the manifestation of your cursed technique, that’s why you didn’t mention anything because you really didn’t understand it. It was something new after all. That was also paired with your fear of losing them. You weren’t used to having people around that understood what you were going through. Last time you’d ended up in an institution. 💀

The permanent look of worry on your face that your bullies notice comes from you worrying about Megumi fighting, unlike the one that came from spotting curses when you were little and didn’t understand.

Stupid bullies hit the jackpot with you because Gojo gave you a generous allowance for the week.

 Nobody at school really knew you were close to Megumi because they hadn’t seen you two hang out together there.

Gojo being a proud dad about you beating up a boy. He’d probably have given you the okay earlier on. Something like, “If they start a fight you end it.” 

Megumi might’ve gotten punched due to the fact that you were involved. He got distracted by you getting hurt and threatening the guy (he wasn’t much of a talker while beating someone up usually).

Looking up facts about Tsumiki made me learn more things about what happened to her (more or less, just skimming through articles and spoiling myself about things beyond s2 lol) and damn isn’t it messed up.

Megumi got scared, thinking what happened to Tsumiki could’ve happened to you. That's why he freaked out when you wouldn’t respond. Just you being a heavy sleeper. Don’t hate meee.

It’s probably stupid but my birthday is in fact 11 days before Megumi’s and when I found out I thought it was cute yk, like Dec. 11 and 22 (do you see what I mean? probably not 😆) so I brought it up here. Also, that makes reader and Gojo (and me)  both sagittarius hehe. Father and daughter (just like, if it wasn’t funny enough, me and my dad (but he’s a Nov. sagi).

You dropped your technique right before Yūji ran past you both. The curse energy coming from him was alarmingly strong enough to be sensed purely without it like any other sorcerer (I mean that much is canon but I’m trying to emphasize my next point lol). If you hadn’t done so and had felt the curse energy coming from him using your technique you probably would’ve passed out right there from exhausting yourself.

I really don’t know if reader’s technique is making sense but imma try to explain what I came up with: First off, I kinda set my mind on Inej from Six of Crows and Noor from MPHFPC and thought about cursed energy like how they put chakra points on Naruto. Omg I know it’s a lot of different things I’m stupid but hear me out JAJA. Reader has a much more acute sense of cursed energy than others. She can actually see it coursing through people’s and curses’ bodies, also cursed tools. Basically anything that has it. Being so, she can see the strongest points where it flows and attack an opponent targeting those, hindering their curse energy flow and weakening them. She uses this in two ways: Weapons: daggers are her go to choice for long range battles (and if she doesn’t hit a particularly strong curse energy body region she still hurts them). For close combat she’d prefer to use a sword or the second way: her bare hands. She can just touch an opponent and extract their cursed energy for her own use. Since she has yet to master manipulating cursed energy that way, she doesn’t use it much. If she takes a little, she can control it better, reducing her own and adapting, or she can burn it off by attacking with it right away with a pure cursed energy hit. If she takes too much she gets like cursed energy “high”, wearing her off considerably afterwards. And if it is from a first grade or a special grade just a small intake could be too much she’ll most likely end up hurt. Other symptoms she may feel by using her technique for long periods are strong headaches, eye sensitivity, mental and physical weariness. Worse case scenario is her body giving out. Her technique is especially successful against opponents without exceptional physical strength cuz she’ll steal or hinder their cursed energy and they’re done for. Another thing she’s currently working on: “ storing”cursed energy (either some of her own or “stolen”): not having to burn it off right away and have like, a reserve. If she’s in battle with a partner and they’re running  low on curse energy, she could transfer some to them (reader being like miss cursed energy battery or smth like that lol). I haven’t thought about her domain expansion but I don’t think I’ll need it for this fic. 💀 I just put too much thought behind her technique probably, and idek if it would make sense in the jjk verse lol. Idk if it makes sense as it is in this fic. But just in case I expand the world of this fic and do more works using these traits I have all this and I’ll have to invent a DE pfff. Basically making an oc. Also there’s more details like what Megumi mentions about you being able to turn on your technique without actually “stealing” cursed energy but sensing its flow. To you it feels like you’re feeling the person’s or cursed spirit’ s essence/personality/conscience. You could say their core or soul but that’s not exactly it, that’s Mahito’s thing JAJA but you’re close enough. That’s why Megumi’s calms you down aaaand that’s why Sukuna fucked you up. 

Your cursed energy shines white. I made that up bc, yk, Megumi with his 10 shadows and reader looking like she’s casting “light”. Totally unimportant XD

There’s always a report after missions. Megumi had recounted what happened but asked if they could leave the details about what happened with Sukuna and him out when they briefed you on it. Gojo told on him when he went to check up on you. Nobara was there.

Reader is a hypocrite getting mad about Megumi risking his life for hers while she be around doing the same thing lololol. 

Anyways, I just wanted to write that scene of Megumi summoning Shiro to comfort reader while Gojo adopted another kid and ended up with a whole fic with no plans and no direction. Just typed awaaay jaja

Me and music go together as some may alr know so here’s a few songs I thought about while writing this: 

 . Peak of Despair by Jake Stark, MITTY

 . Numb to the Feeling by Chase Atlantic (how the fuck, you may ask. I took out the drugs and the horny out of it JAJA)

. DIE FOR ME by Chase Atlantic (pretty much the same case stated above)

. Saving Flowers by salute, Rina Sawayama

. Soft Spot by keshi 

(If there was something else not mentioned here that you’re curious about or stood out to you hit the ask button <3. Thank you for reading up to this point!) 

Until next time, 

Youmarin <3