#a few mistakes that aren’t obvious

[yarnoverhook]

[La Résilience] Cowl

[temis-de-leon]

When they don't know you as well as they thought they did

Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub and Belphegor (x reader, separately)

Main Masterlist

C/W: the boys are crushing on MC and it's implied MC is crushing as well, but there isn't any established relationship. Just friends feeling things for their friend, very common. Self-insert, perhaps?

A/N: this is just fluff, very silly, a little ooc maybe, but I'm not sure. I just wanted to make something fun and lighthearted after the recent news.

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No one is surprised anymore at the firmness the brothers speak with when they call you part of the family. Between the pacts and the unsolicited free therapy, it’s only fair, and only an idiot wouldn’t be able to see the affection running through the House of Lamentation.

Still, there are instances every once in a while where, although it’s difficult at the beginning, the boys have no other choice but to accept the fact that you have a completely different life back in the human world and they may not know you as good as they would like.

It starts with the small things; embarrassing conversations where their ignorance gets you to laugh like a maniac more than a couple of times. There they are, blushing in self-consciousness while you cackle uncontrollably because they believed some urban legend about a faceless suited man with freakishly long arms.

Then, slowly, but surely, it turns into more personal things about you, like your irrational, downright, phobia of lizards or the fictional characters you’re surprisingly attracted to.

(Some of those aren’t human, which makes them all feel a strong sense of hope, but you don’t need to know that).

The brothers learn about your studies, favourite subjects and what you’d like to do with your future, even if it sounds hopeless or unlikely. They also keep every bit of information about your friends and family; little comments that you let go here and there and help them understand why you are someone they love so much.

The whole situation evolves in such a way that inviting them to your birthday party in the human realm seems to be the obvious next step.

‘It’s so I can celebrate it with all my loved ones’ you say, and they really can’t deny your offer after that.

So, after a few awkward introductions and half-truths about their origin, everyone is happily talking to each other and eagerly waiting for their turn to be with you.

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Lucifer, who has had a special interest in your family for a while, finds himself chuckling in understanding when your mother complains about the occasional mess in your room. In your defence, he feels obligated to partially throw his brothers under the bus and blame them for keeping you in a constant state of disarray, but then she says something that… perplexes him.

You don’t like perfection? His eyes open wide at the revelation and your mother chuckles, misinterpreting his expression. She doesn’t know who he really is or what he represents, after all.

Just how vast is the veracity of that statement? Does it refer only to a state of mind or do you apply it to everything else?

Thankfully, he doesn’t have time to feel too anxious before he remembers the little details. When your triumphal smile shone in the dimness of his room that time he made a silly mistake in chess, ultimately granting you the win; or when the Anti-Lucifer League managed to leave his hair unkempt for an entire day, which got you to shamelessly look at him for longer than any of his younger brothers would’ve ever liked.

Not being perfect isn’t something he would ever do consciously and he had always found solace in the fact that you like him despite his mistakes. However, knowing you actually like him because of those mistakes? Perhaps letting those cracks show in his façade isn’t so bad as long as it is for you.

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Not far from him, Mammon chats with your human best friend. There’s an air of competitiveness between them, both wanting to be the ultimate best friend, but it all stays light-hearted. There’s no real threat when Mammon gets to be your first demon, you know? It’s a unique position!

But he still makes sure to assert dominance by stating he would’ve made the perfect party for you, better than the one you’re currently enjoying; with food and decorations from the Devildom and the Celestial realm included, matching outfits and, of course, keeping everything hidden so you can have the best surprise of your life. He had thrown a lot of those with Asmo’s help back home, so he knows you love them!

Or he thinks you do, at least.

Your friend sniggers harmlessly when they hear that last part, pointing at him with an infuriating smartass attitude, and immediately shatters Mammon’s reality.

What the heck do they mean, you don’t like surprise parties? He’d done a lot of those back at the Devildom and you’d never complained, appreciative as you are, even helping him do the same for other’s birthday parties!

Sure, you had always looked dumbfounded by the loud cheering and the confetti after stepping through the door, but that was part of the fun… right? You would tell him if you wanted him to stop, wouldn’t you?

He feels a pang in his heart when the idea of you being uncomfortable for his sake appears in his mind, but it doesn’t make sense. While you undeniably treat him better than anyone else in all of the realms, you still correct him when you see fit and him making you unhappy on your own birthday would be one of those occasions.

He trusts you to confide in him when things are wrong just as much as you trust him to do his best. That’s what friends are for, after all.

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And where else would Levi be if not hidden in a corner playing with his DDD?

He had tried mingling with people at the party, or at least tried hanging around them, he swears, but conversations became repetitive and boring and then he received a notification for a daily reward from one of his apps, so, of course, he had to sit down to collect it. Then minutes passed as he completed minigames to power up his cards and… you get the idea.

So when a friend of yours walked towards him, complimenting the pins and badges on his bag and the faint music coming out of his headphones, sure, the evening started going way smoother.

He talks enthusiastically, just like any other time his interests are mentioned, wildly gesturing with his hands and letting the little bubble around them be full of their eager exchange. However, a casual lament from his companion stops him right in his tracks.

It’s a shame you don’t like anime…? His first reaction is to laugh, enumerating everything you’d watched, and later commented on, with him under a blanket in the tranquillity of his room, but the utter surprise in your friend’s face leaves him speechless.

You really don’t like it? But… But he’s made you see so many things! Did you like any of them? Did you lie to his face when you said you enjoyed them? He would’ve never chosen a best friend like that; you were not like that and he refused to believe the contrary.

Also, would a liar buy merch on their own like you did? Would they watch the best episodes again or listen to the soundtrack on repeat when they had a bad day? This new revelation only makes him aware he was the one to change your perspective of the fine arts and he’s damn proud of that.

You are still getting an earful when you get back home, though.

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Satan thinks the kid is a young cousin of yours, but he really hasn’t been paying attention to anything in a long while. How could he, when the enthusiastic toddler had taken their mother’s phone just to show him the family cat’s pictures and videos?

A Mackerel tabby cat, too chubby for his own good but not enough to be actually concerning; playing with feathers, blinking slowly, bumping his head against legs and shoulders, meowing sweetly and, basically, opening his heart in half and making it roam inside his chest like a butterfly.

What a good party.

He mentions all the stray cats behind his house, obviously leaving behind the name of the House of Lamentation and the Devildom, and all the times you’ve gone with him to feed them and play. Satan even shows pictures on his DDD and stops with an adoring expression when you appear on the screen, sitting on your toes with a kitty on your knees and smiling past the camera, straight at Satan.

However, what he hears next takes the air right out of his lungs. He sits down and clutches his pearls and the kid stares at him in anxious confusion, clearly witnessing but not understanding the severity of his distress.

Who, in their right mind, doesn’t like cats?

He remembers the first few times you had accompanied him to his route, intimidated and slightly lingering behind. Initially, he had assumed it was due to the novelty of your friendship or a possible fear of Devildom fauna, but nothing against cats!

Were you afraid of them or just plain uninterested? Why keep going with him if you weren’t as fond of them as he thought you were? Wouldn’t it be because of him, would it?

A warm feeling covers him like a blanket, makes him search for you with his eyes and then immediately blush when you excitedly wave at him, point at the kid and mouth ‘Cute cat!’

Yeah. Very cute.

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On the other hand, Asmo hangs out with the people responsible for the decorations of the party and compliments them on their work. The colours are well-coordinated, there’s nothing out of place and the distribution was thought with all the guests in mind.

Although he hasn’t been able to help in that regard, he’s made sure you would be the centre of attention that evening; a complicated feature coming from him, but he had never minded sharing the main spot just as long as you were the one by his side; and everyone knows that.

You look cute and pretty and hot in your outfit, a style that both compliments and pleases you. You also worked together in your makeup for hours before getting to the party.

However, taking that much time might have been due to scrolling through social media and gossiping so much, but never mind that. Everyone agrees you look incredible and that is more than enough for him.

It isn’t until one of your friends mentions how weird it is to see you wearing makeup that he dares take his eyes away from you to stare at them in disbelief.

He would’ve never guessed that given that one of your favourite pastimes together is makeup as a whole: going shopping, watching tutorials, following trends, doing your own next to each other, doing each other’s… And, even if he wants to use it, his charming power is useless against you, so he knows you do your makeup because you want to and not because you feel forced by him.

Whether it’s something you share because you enjoy it or something you enjoy because you share it with him, he isn’t sure, but he can swear on his precious damned soul that makeup isn’t a need for you.

It’s just a bonus to your beauty.

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Sitting at one of the tables, Beel is simultaneously talking to your older sibling while gulping down an entire plate of bite-sized snacks; thankfully, whatever apprehension anyone felt at his hunger died hours ago and now the conversation flowed more naturally, mainly centred around you.

As much as he loves having you near him and his brothers in the House of Lamentation and thinking of you as another member of the family, he is very interested in knowing how your human family is, especially your siblings. It’s another way of relating to you and making him feel closer.

Plus, he gets to know stories from your childhood you may never tell him on your own; anecdotes that will stay at the table he is currently sharing with your sibling.

Unfortunately, they reach a point where, although he wants to keep asking questions about you, doing so with a mouth full of food might end up with Lucifer’s scolding of the year. Also, he really wants to make a good impression.

So your sibling begins asking the questions. Surprisingly, they start with his tattoo; dark red curling around his muscles and almost going unnoticed under the colours of dusk. Beel smiles without giving it any importance because it really doesn’t have it, but forces himself to stop gulping down food when your sibling throws a fun fact about you.

You find tattoos attractive?

He feels an instant burning on his cheeks followed by the rapid beating of his heart and a knot in his stomach, but there’s also a faint unpleasant sour taste in his mouth.

You’ve never asked him about his tattoo, barely sparing a glance at it when you worked out together or he took off his jacket.

He wonders if you don’t like it or if you think it doesn’t look good on him because all he can remember is the focused look in your eyes while looking at his and the curve of your smile growing bigger as you listen to whatever he says, even when it is entirely about food, and…

You know what? He doesn’t really mind. He is fine with things as they are.

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As both a friend of yours and a fellow younger brother, Belphie respects your sibling’s decision to spill your darkest secrets and thoroughly enjoys the air of comradery between them.

Don’t worry, he won’t let it go past actual serious matters; if you want him to know any of that, he’d rather have you telling him yourself when you’re ready and not get betrayed by your sibling. Silly and harmless pieces of information, however? Those are more than welcome.

And he already has a favourite.

You need to hug plushies to sleep? Tell him more. He doesn’t judge you for feeling the need to hug toys or pillows while sleeping. Actually, he understands.

Do you have a favourite? Is it in the human realm or is it in your room back at the House of Lamentation? While he can recall seeing that ugly zombie iguana on your bed, he’s never seen you cuddling it while sleeping and, other than that, he doesn’t remember seeing one, so he wonders if you hide it somewhere when you know he’s going to your room; but what about those times he enters uninvited?

Does that mean you left your preferred plushie in your room in the human realm? Does that mean that you don’t actually need to hug anything to sleep?

Whenever you share a bed, which is pretty frequent, Belphie can sense an invisible barrier between you that he’s dying to break. It’s nothing physical, given that only he knows how truly comfortable your lap and your chest are, but it’s obvious in the way your hands hesitate to bring him closer.

Shy and indecisive, while you don’t reject his advances, he’s still unsure what your feelings on the matter are. He’d initially thought you weren’t used to having anything so close to you while sleeping, but… now… Maybe he has to assure you that you can hug him as hard as you want.

Belphie is just as good as any plushie, after all; if not better.

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Taglist: @ilovecandys2010  @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Question?

We talk about how Tim, Jason and Damian’s parents raised them pre Bruce but why don’t we talk about Dick Graysons.

Bc even before all of the court of the owls shit the way that man was raised was wild.

So remember Dick was a member and active participant of a circus as a child. A trapeze act without a net who was expected to pull his weight since he could walk.

That means that despite what everyone thinks John and Mary Grayson absolutely could not afford to gentle parent their child.

At all.

Dick had to know how dangerous his life was forever. He has to be perfect because if he fails him or his parents die. They die with a mistake. Don’t stretch your hand out far enough and someone falls.

And despite the fact that the Romani aspect of his character was born out of a writers need for fetish content. I still find it interesting to explore.

And since I am European! Halys circus truther

It gets more interesting because the anti-Romani sentiment in Europe is vile, obvious and violent. (And I say this as a poc who grew up outside of Europe and moved here for college. Like you’d never imagine the type of shit they say about a group of people with no shame before turning around and commenting about how crazy it is that poc are treated poorly in the rest of the world.) Now imagine your child is working a dangerous gig while being part of a hated minority and you have to go and advertise your whole families location because you are the centerpiece of a show.

Yall think Mary and John Grayson didn’t teach their kid to lie? To fit in with any group humanly possible.

You think Mary and John didn’t teach dick to switch from, mama to mom to Daj. To switch accents and tones and languages since before he could walk on his hands?

You think that this kid who grew up traveling everywhere wouldn’t know how to integrate himself so fully into the society he’s in that he’s invisible as an outsider?

When Dick talks to Bruce in Juvie right before hes taken in as a ward he has an American accent. A Gotham accent and not the ones the other kids has no Dick has a Bristol accent. When he first meets Alfred he has a charming softly British accent, the kind that isn’t immediately noticeable unless you share the accent. The softening of the vowels and heavy central consonants. Think kids who went to British schools abroad and learned English from people with British accents.

Bruce notices this but doesn’t think much of it I mean kids can adapt to their environments startlingly quick maybe the kid just kinda picks up accents.

But then Dick becomes robin and he’s horrifically good at it from the get go.

Which sends alarm bells in Alfred’s head because he raised Bruce at that age. He taught Bruce to defend himself at that age. Bruce wouldn’t be about to do 1/10 of what this kid can do.

No eight year old should be able to throw items with that sort of precision even a child as good at gymnastics as dick. No child should be that comfortable with a knife in his hand.

And of course dick always had an excuse, he grew up around fire breathers and knife throwers of course he’s good.

And Bruce notices when Dick goes out as Robin and begins to help people because for the first few months, he never speaks first.

He’ll save someone and when they thank him, he’ll reply in their exact accent.

The crime alley rougher tones

The high class smarmy Bristol accent

The open vowel Jersey accent

When he meets Superman there’s the barest edges of midwestern twang in his every word.

And it’s just unnerving

He flickers between cultures like their clothes in his wardrobe, accents like they’re a new set of perfectly fit shoes.

He’s just good at it.

And it’s a game to him.

He sees how close he can get to your accent without coming off as suspicious.

By the time he’s being doing the Robin shtick for a while and knows the areas he just immediately switches to the most common accent there even if there aren’t any people around.

His facial expressions and hand gestures change as well.

It adds to the myth of the Batman because the gcpd for a long while believes any Robin reportings to be a myth because one minute someone is reporting a Jersey accent the next genial Californian, or a tv safe reporter tone, one minute the kid is conversing in perfect Russian the next he’s speaking Spanish like he grew up in Mexico.

When he wants to get away with a mistake his voice switches to one indistinguishable from a scared child, with a mild stutter, overgramarization and the scared world slurring children do that makes your heart soft

When he wants people to listen to him his he’s eloquent and enunciating perfectly. He sounds far older than his years.

And everyone thinks they’re hearing the real Dick Grayson speak and it makes their hearts happy because look at how he puts on a show for everyone but trusts me enough to talk without lying.

Without ever realizing that they’re one of the people watching the show.

[luveline]

Hey Jade!

I can’t remember if you’ve already written this or not but if not, could you please write bombshell!reader finally joining the BAU? I wanna know how Spencer and everyone else reacted to her finally joining

Thanks lovely :) hope you’re doing well

ty for requesting 💌 fem, 1.3k

The trek from the SCU to the BAU is familiar. If you aren’t being asked to consult, or occasionally brought along on sex crime specific cases, you’ll make any excuse to get there. A broken laptop, an updated reading list, a good cup of coffee. Spencer Reid always provides. 

He just doesn’t get it. You think about it every time you see him, but he can’t understand how nice, kind, and pretty he really is, or he wouldn’t be so shy, and he wouldn’t act surprised to have you seeking him out. 

He’s sitting now behind his desk with a hand over his mouth. You can tell he’s smiling despite it, a warm light to his brown eyes as you approach. 

“Hello,” you say. 

“Hi.” He sniffs, curling his hand into a fist under his nose. His smile is a thousand times more obvious as he tries to hide. “You okay?” 

“Hotch asked me to come. You don’t know what it’s for?” 

His smile finally softens before fading to a more neutral expression. “I have no idea.” 

You wipe your hands down over your hips. “Well, I’m sure it’ll be fine, and not at all like last time.” Hotch has never been angry with you before. It was strange. “I hope he still likes me.” 

“What are you talking about? Of course he does.” 

“What am I talking about?” You agree. “Kiss for luck?” 

“Pucker up,” Morgan says, a coffee cup in hand. Without coffee you’re sure this office would cease to function. 

You shoot him a smile, Spencer a promising look to return, and start up the stairs to the office. You watch your shoes on each step, their shiny black, and you try not to be nervous, but Spencer was acting strange and Hotch has enough reason to revisit his anger. 

Your best defence is a smile, you decide. If you act like nothing happened, you won’t get another rehashing of your mistakes. 

You knock his door. “Hotch? It’s me.” 

“Come in, please.” 

You turn the handle and feel the weight of the door against your elbow as you enter. Hotch sits behind his desk, as usual, but when you’re a few paces from the desk he stand up, which is unusual. 

“How are you?” he asks.

Your eyes widen against your will. “I’m fine. How are you, Hotch? How’s your sweet boy? Did he have fun at little league?” 

“Jack’s perfect. I’m good, I need to talk to you about something.” 

“I assumed.” You wait. Then, neck growing warm, “If it’s about last time, I'm still so sorry.” 

“I’m not going to get angry at you twice for a mistake. But no, that’s not what you’re here for.” 

He’s making you nervous. Is this a guessing game? You lean into your nerves and put your arms behind your back, grasping your wrist as you tilt your head ever so slightly to the side. “It’s not about Spencer, is it? I told you, he’s just a friend. A good friend. But I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise my chances.” 

“It’s about that.” 

You stand straighter. “I do like him,” you confess, which Hotch already knows. Everybody seems to know except for Spencer. It’s not like you’re in love with him, just you could be, maybe. “But I’m really not– I would never do anything–” You start again. “I want this job more than anything. I know I flirt and I make more jokes than I should, but I take the work seriously, I promise. You guys are the most impressive people I know and I might feel like you’re a friend to me, Hotch, but you have to know how much I admire you. I admire Spencer, and I’d never let my feelings impede my professional ability.” 

“Y/N, I’m not reprimanding you for anything.” 

You swallow awkwardly. “You’re not?” 

He raises his eyebrows and turns to his desk. There’s a packet waiting across his outgoings, which he picks up and gives to you. “I need you to fill these in, first and foremost.” 

He’s smiling. Why is he smiling? 

You peer inside cautiously. Chest suddenly aching, thinking, It isn’t what you want, don’t break your own heart, you pull out the very top sheet from inside. FBI letterhead greets you. 

Facilitation of department transfer for Y/N L/N from the Sexual Crimes Unit to the Behavioural Analysis Unit, as requested by Unit Chief Supervisory Special Agent A. Hotchner and approved by Unit Chief S. Peterson. 

You lay it on top of the envelope. All the papers whine under your tight hand. “You requested it?” you ask. 

“Months ago.” 

“And Sandy said yes.” 

“Strauss, finally. If you sign them today, Penelope’s promised to expedite your processing, whether that’s fair or not. Your desk is ready.” 

“Hotch,” you whisper, not without excitement, but sound hard to summon, “are you serious? You’re not messing with me?”

“You deserve it. You have for a long time.” 

You squeeze your eyes closed. For five long seconds, you stand there, and you think about how hard you’ve worked and how badly you’ve wanted this, and how much faith everybody’s had in you the whole time. You’re so thankful. For Hotch, Morgan, and especially for Spencer Reid. 

“Don’t get upset,” Hotch says, taking your arm. He gives it a good squeeze. It’s so friendly and kind you consider jumping up to wrap your arms around him, but you restrain yourself. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly, pressing the packet to your chest. 

“You’re welcome. I didn’t mind fighting for you.” 

“I need to go and tell Spencer.” 

“Spencer, your good friend.” 

Your laugh comes in fractures from a sudden deep breath. “My good friend,” you agree. “Hotch, thank you. Thank you, I’m gonna go tell Spencer. I’ll be right back.” 

“It’s fine. Just make sure you finish those forms before lunch.” 

You leave with some dignity. You close Hotch’s office door, and you walk to the balcony and look down at Spencer where he’s waiting for you. His hair falls against his neck, his head angled up, and he’s smiling so hard he must’ve already known what you were summoned into the office for. 

You rush down the stairs. He, in all his loveliness, stands in time to open his arms. “I can’t believe it,” you say, your laugh like a ring as you lean against him. He holds you tight and hugs right back, forcing you to bend under his weight. “Spencer.” 

He pulls away just as quickly. “Tell me,” he says. 

“I’m gonna be part of the BAU.” It’s so insane to finally say aloud. 

Spencer looks extremely, achingly happy for you, but his second hug still surprises you. Your nose ends up pressed to his hair, strands of it falling from behind his ear as his palm cups your shoulder. 

You close your eyes. Spencer laughs, his lips a hair's width from your cheek. 

Your excitement grows too much. You squirm away from him and wrap your hands around yourself, holding in a girlish, giggly squeal. “I did it. I can’t believe I did it.” 

He takes your hand. You barely notice. “Why can’t you believe that? You’re amazing. You work hard and you didn’t give up.” 

Morgan returns from wherever he’s been with Emily and Garcia in tow. “There she is!” he says. 

It’s possibly the best round of hugs you’ve ever had in your life. The little congratulations cupcake they present you with is the sweetest you’ve ever tasted. Spencer puts a makeshift name tag on your desk and you don’t bother pretending your eyes haven’t filled with tears, but nobody cares or minds. 

[levisjinchuriki]

forever yours

summary: you and gojo have been separated for six months due to his troubles. you try to juggle co-parenting your young son and moving on, but gojo makes it obvious he’s not ready to give you up on your relationship yet

warning: just angst

word count: 2.3k

the separation of you and gojo was hard. you had devoted so much of your life, time and energy to him only to feel like you weren’t a priority. it was a terrible feeling you could push past during the first few years together, but after your wedding and the birth of your son, you started to realize how unfair it was. 

gojo’s job kept him away from home a lot, leaving you to take care of your son, haru. when he did manage to get some time off- things just didn’t feel the same as they once were. he always seemed distracted. 

he still loved you, of course. you were the only woman in his life he had ever truly been in love with. that will never change. and he didn’t realize how much he was slacking until you served him divorce papers one night- looking so defeated. it caught him off guard, and he was surprised that you had taken such a step. 

you were steadfast as gojo tried to convince you out of your decision. and when you didn’t budge he realized how many mistakes he’d made leading up to this moment. he couldn’t blame you, but he also couldn’t force you to take him back. 

he didn’t sign the papers. there’s no way in hell he’d do that. delusional or not, he’d convinced himself you’d be together again and going through the motions of a divorce would just complicate everything. he did reach a compromise with you, though. he was forced to accept the reality that he had lost you as his wife. gojo had enough money to take care of both you and haru so you could focus on raising him without having to work. per your request to live separately, gojo moved into an apartment on the other side of town. 

and when gojo put the last of his belongings in the moving truck haru ran up to him, sobbing as his small body clutched at gojo’s legs. 

“don’t go daddy” haru cried against him. it broke gojo’s heart. not only was he losing you as his wife, but his actions had torn his family apart. haru, the light of his life, was forced to be in the middle of his parent’s separation. it wasn’t fair to him and the guilt ate at gojo everyday.

your son loved his father, and if there was one thing gojo prioritized- it was haru. 

you had to turn away as tears slipped down your cheeks. it was almost too much for you to handle. you tried to stick through your marriage for haru’s sake, but you couldn’t keep up the act anymore. and although you were the one pushing him away, it hurt so much to see satoru leave. but it was the best decision for you, both mentally and emotionally. 

he had moved out six months ago now and still, the house felt all too empty.

—

the sound of Haru’s footsteps echo as he moves from room to room, looking for something to occupy his mind. he's become used to his dad not always being around, but he’s just a boy and he still needs his father in his life. gojo is still present, though only on the weekends when he has most of his free time. you would never completely take either of them away from each other. 

you sit on the couch, staring blankly at the screen in front of you- not sure what you had been watching as you aren’t paying attention. haru had been quiet tonight, spending most of his time drawing or playing alone. he’s almost four, now. he’s bright and everything you need. 

you smile as haru walks into the living room, clutching his favorite stuffed animal and rubbing his eyes. 

“mommy,” he yawns softly, “can i call daddy?”.

even after all these months the question is like a knife to your heart. you’ve tried to protect him from the worst of the separation, but the longing in his eyes is something you can’t ignore. you nod, forcing a smile. “of course, baby”. 

the phone rings a few times before gojo answers. his voice always has a warmth to it that makes you melt every time. 

“hey,” he greets. “is it bedtime?”. haru would talk to his dad every night before bed, a ritual that he tries his hardest not to break, even if he is busy with work. 

“yeah, he wants to speak to you”, you say.

haru’s small hands eagerly hold the phone to his ear, his face lights up at the sound of his father’s voice. “daddy! it’s me!”, he says excitedly. your heart melts at how much he loves his father.

gojo’s tone immediately softens. “hi, sweet boy. how’s my little guy doing?” he coos. gojo cherishes every moment he has with haru. it means so much to him to talk to him every night and make sure he’s okay, even if he isn’t around anymore. 

haru babbles about his day and gojo eagerly listens. he loves it when his son gets excited. 

haru clutches the phone tightly after he finishes, suddenly becoming upset. his small voice trembles slightly at his next sentence. “i miss you, daddy. when are you coming home?”. 

the silence on the other end of the line is heavy. gojo’s breathing is a mixture of sadness and regret. he wishes he could be there with the both of you. 

“i miss you too”. he’s not sure how to answer the little boy’s question. it all depends on you and if you are willing to sort through your issues together or not. he hopes you will decide to, but your relationship hasn’t improved much since he moved out. he’s not even sure if you still wear your ring. 

you can see haru’s eyes welling up with tears as he tries to hold back his emotions. 

“why can’t you come home? i want you here with us.”. he didn’t understand why his father had left in the first place. he’s too young to understand the concept of separation, even though you and gojo have explained it to him before. in his mind, if you both love each other then you should all be living together as one. he can’t grasp that even if you love someone so much, sometimes you have to let them go. 

gojo clears his throat. “i know, precious. things are complicated right now, but i promise i’m working on it”. whether he’s successful or not, gojo intends to try to mend things with you in any way he can.

“i’m coming to pick you up tomorrow and we can spend the whole weekend together. how does that sound?”. he tries to cheer haru up. 

the boy sniffles and wipes his eyes. “okay, daddy. i love you”. 

“i love you too, haru,” gojo says softly. “more than anything”. 

after a few more exchanged words and assurances, haru hands the phone back to you before climbing in your lap. you rub his back comfortingly as you bring the phone to your ear. 

“you still there?”, gojo asks. without needing to mask his tone for his son, you can hear just how defeated he sounds. 

you confirm you’re still on the line. the conversation is short- you and gojo discussing when to meet at the park tomorrow for him to pick up haru. in the last few months you’ve stopped having personal conversations with him- just trying to focus on co-parenting. it was easier for you that way.

you look down at your son and brush his hair from his face. he’s a spitting image of his father- same ghostly white locks and stunning eyes that held all the potential of the world within them. every time you looked at him, it was like seeing a smaller, more innocent version of satoru. and that made it harder to move on.

“daddy loves you very much. we’ll see him soon, okay?”, you assure him with a kiss on the head. 

haru nods against your shoulder, his small frame cuddled up to you. “okay, mommy”.

you hold him tightly, wishing you can offer more than just words of comfort. the house is still big and empty, but you try to fill it with all the love and reassurance you could muster. for haru’s sake, you hope that someday soon, this will all be behind you.

—

haru’s laughter rings out as he chases a butterfly through the empty park, the pure sound filling the air with a sweetness that tugs at your heart. you watch him, torn between the joy of his innocence and the ache of the life you once dreamed of with satoru. the butterfly flutters just out of haru's reach, and he giggles, his happiness a stark contrast to the storm of emotions brewing inside you.

the crunch of footsteps on gravel snaps you out of your thoughts, and though you don’t look up, you know who it is. satoru’s presence is unmistakable, a force that commands attention even without a word. he slides onto the bench beside you, close enough that his warmth seeps into your skin without touching you. he watches haru play for a moment before turning his attention to you. 

“i missed you”. his voice is sweet like honey, the words slipping out effortlessly. it’s that natural charm, the way he makes even the simplest phrases sound enchanting, that drew you to him in the first place. 

you turn to face him, finally meeting his gaze. those damn blue eyes–deep and endless like the ocean—have always been your weakness, pulling you in no matter how hard you try to resist. they hold a mix of emotions, swirling with the memories of a past you can’t quite let go of. his eyes search yours, and for a moment, it feels like time stops, as if the world around you fades away, leaving just the two of you and the unspoken feelings hanging in the air.

“what we had was a life full of complications,” you respond, not allowing yourself to get pulled into his trap. “you’re still in that world, satoru. and i can’t be a part of it anymore. haru can’t be a part of it”. 

his jaw tightens as a flicker of determination flashes in his eyes. “just because you’re pushing me away doesn’t mean i’m gonna give up”, his voice is low, laced with a quiet resolve.  “i haven’t given up on us”. the weight of his words hangs between you, thick with emotion, as if he’s daring you to believe him, to see the fight still left in him.

your heart aches at his words. you want to believe him, to let yourself fall back into the warmth of his promises. there is still so much love in your heart for satoru, but love alone isn’t enough to mend the things that had broken you apart. the dangers he faced daily, the secrets he kept hidden away, the growing distance that had slowly stretched between you until it became an uncrossable chasm—it had all become too much. the memories of what you once had clash with the reality of what you've lost, leaving you torn between the past and the painful truth of the present.

“don’t make this harder than it already is.” you plead, feeling your resolve weaken. he reaches out, gently taking your hand in his. 

i’m not ready to let you go,” he admits, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “i don’t know if i’ll ever be.”

the confession hangs between you, heavy and unresolved. it would be so easy to slip back into old habits, to let him back in and pretend that everything could be okay again. but you deserve more than that. and deep down, you know the truth. satoru isn’t ready to change, and you aren’t ready to keep living in a world where he could be taken away at any moment. the weight of his unfulfilled promises and the uncertainty of your future press down on you, a reminder of the painful reality you can’t escape.

“haru needs stability,” you say softly, pulling your hand away. “he needs a life that doesn’t revolve around waiting for his father to come home in one piece”. gojo doesn’t miss a beat

“and what about you?” satoru asks, his voice laced with a vulnerability that he rarely showed. “what do you need?”

for a moment, silence envelops you both, the weight of the question hanging heavily in the air, unspoken yet profoundly understood. you look at him, at the man who once meant everything to you, and feel the tears well up in your eyes.

you need to move on. it’s been half a year, and you’re still in the same place, still foolishly hoping that satoru will change overnight. still waiting for him to burst through the door, fall to his knees, and apologize for everything that’s gone wrong in your relationship. the reality of your stagnant situation presses down on you, a painful reminder that hope alone isn’t enough to mend the fractures that have grown too deep.

haru’s laughter rings out again, drawing both of your eyes to him as he runs toward you, blissfully unaware of the tension between his parents. satoru stands up as haru reaches him, lifting him into his arms with a grin that makes your heart clench. he showers haru’s chubby cheeks with kisses, telling him how much he’s missed him this week, making haru giggle with delight. Satoru is such a good father, and that only makes everything harder.

“ready to go?” he asks, holding haru close. the boy nods, and satoru tells him to say goodbye to you.

“bye, mommy!” haru waves enthusiastically. you kiss his cheek and tell him you’ll pick him up soon.

“i’ll see you sunday?” satoru confirms, his gaze searching yours.

you nod, unable to trust your voice. with one last wave at haru you watch as they make their way toward his car. as they disappear from view, the weight of what you’re leaving behind settles heavily over you. moving on was never easy, but with satoru, it feels almost impossible.

----

>> ch 2

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ thank you for reading!! everyone is welcome to leave feedback and requests in my inbox!! please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist! ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

[muniimyg]

6: the madness // series m.list

note: say u missed me or else i’ll cry 🫵

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//

Timing.

You’ve never really understood it. Not to mention the whole invisible string theory and how implausible it seems… How is it that you can coexist with the love of your life for years and not be with them until the time is right?

Isn’t that strange?

Love is all-consuming, inevitable, and perfect, but its greatest weakness is a mere concept: time.

Speaking of time, you’re early.

As you enter the restaurant and greet your friends, you can’t help but check your phone every other minute. Waiting for a text from him, checking the time, and wondering when he’ll arrive… It feels exhausting to be in this state of longing.

How is it that you’ve been friends with him for so long and now you need him more than ever?

To hold you and tell you everything is alright.

To smile at you like you’re his favorite person in the entire world.

To just be with him.

Even if today wasn’t life or death, you felt so helpless. It felt like everything was against you.

Yes, it was just about a stupid presentation (that barely scratches the surface of your future), but it was still a tough thing to get through alone. It was unexpected and filled with minor mistakes, making it feel like a complete defeat.

So much happened.

First, you slept through your alarm.

Though you made it right on time, you didn’t have the extra moments to prepare and run through your presentation like you had originally planned.

Then, since there was no time for prep, you encountered technical difficulties. Your notes were missing for some reason…

And your stuttering!

God, you never stuttered so much in your life.

It was truly an off morning.

… And it doesn’t end there.

Nope!

As you texted Jungkook and updated him, you remembered that you had a rescheduled quiz to take… You know, the one that you completely forgot to review last night because your head was all over this stupid presentation.

The quiz went fine but it could’ve been better.

You know you could’ve done better.

That’s probably what annoys you the most. Everything that occurred today wasn’t up to your standard performance level. Humanizing it is difficult because the truth is simple…

Some days just aren’t good.

Some days you just have to take the L.

Some days you just need to breathe through.

And that’s okay.

Because after all the bad, losing, and catching-your-breath moments—there’s him.

The very thought of him eases you. Talking to him makes you feel like you’re bigger than the bad and the losing. Being with him is as easy as breathing.

“Hey ___,” an unfamiliar voice disrupts your thoughts. You turn your head to see who it is. Beside you, a tall man with a broad build offers you a smile. He has short hair and dimples. Even with just his appearance, he’s charming (you can’t deny that).

Politely, you return it but it’s obvious you’re confused.

“… I’m so sorry,” you feel slightly embarrassed to not remember his name. “You are?”

“Mingyu,” he introduces himself, stepping closer and offering his hand. You take it, shaking it slowly and unsure.

He tries again.

“I’m Jungkook’s friend,” Mingyu explains. “You’re Jungkook’s… Uh?”

“O-oh!” you avoid the question and redirect the conversation. “Are you in his friend group with Jaehyun and them?”

He scoffs. “By ‘them’ you mean those guys?”

Mingyu points to a group of tall guys hovering over the menu display. You count them and can’t help but laugh.

Then, you notice one.

“Is that DK? I think Jungkook introduced me to him when we were walking home a few weeks ago!” From where you are, you wave at DK. DK sees you from the corner of his eye and sends you a smile. He gestures for you to come over. For the second time, you smile politely and feel stuck.

What now?

“What’s Jungkook doing introducing you to DK and not me?” Mingyu chuckles, attempting to lighten the mood.

You purse your lips. “Ohh.. I get it.”

“Get what?”

“You’re cheeky,” you observe. “Yup… You’re definitely friends with Jungkook.”

Mingyu puts his hands up in surrender and then on your shoulders. “Guilty as charged.”

You laugh.

He likes your laugh. It’s soft and attractive—especially when you throw your head slightly back. Intrigued, he invites you to sit with them.

“You know the others, right? Hobi and them?”

“Yeah!” you answer him happily. “Hobi and I are actually pretty close—“

Mingyu’s puppy eyes light up with excitement. “Oh, shit really? So you don’t need to get to know them or anything?”

You blink at him.

“I guess?”

“Great!” Mingyu beams. “Good. Cool... Sit with me! I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

You know it’s all friendly nature.

Mingyu is known for being like this.

Goofy, a little deceptive, but a good guy overall. You have nothing to fear! Especially when he’s friends with Jungkook, right? He wouldn’t think of trying to flirt with you… Right?

What are you to Jungkook again?

Before you know it, Mingyu’s hands find yours. As he laces your fingers together, you feel your chest tighten.

This feels weird.

It feels like betrayal even though you know it’s not. Isn’t it ridiculous to be thinking this way?

You run excuses and options in your head.

Do you pull away and laugh it off? Do you just let him hold your hand and lead you to sit with him and the others? You aren’t sure… But the one thing that is clear is the look of annoyance on Jungkook’s face as he steps into the restaurant and his eyes land on your hands.

“Jungkook!”

As cinematic as it can be, that’s what it is. You shake Mingyu’s grasp off and rush to Jungkook. He’s completely taken aback, stumbling as you crash into him. A small laugh escapes his lips, as he finds your tiny charge at him to be the cutest thing you’ve done thus far. He barely walked in and you’re already in his arms.

Heaven, he thinks to himself.

As he wraps his arms around you, he kisses the top of your head. “Wow, look at you. Are you sure you’re my girl? Not shy anymore? Not avoiding me? I’m so proud of you, mi.”

He smells like him. Like his laundry detergent and his skin after his workout—a little sweaty but so addictive.

Is that weird?

Most importantly… Who cares?

He’s here.

You can breathe him in. You can breathe again.

You groan in embarrassment. Pulling away, you keep yourself close enough to rest your chin on his chest. He lowers his gaze at you, eyes softening as his lips curve into a pout.

“Bad day?”

“Better now,” you hum, hugging him tighter. He laughs and gently tickles your sides. Your laughter increases, causing you to let go of him. He takes your bag from your hands and swings it over his shoulder. His fingers brush against yours as you two walk to join your friends who go ahead and get seated.

“Hey, am I crazy or was Mingyu holding your hand—”

“___!” Mingyu calls for you.

You and Jungkook turn your heads and see him patting a place for you. Without a second thought, Jungkook lifts his hand to wave and you hold onto him tighter. Exchanging looks, he then proceeds to guide you towards his circle of friends and away from the ones you’re familiar with. Passing by Hobi, you give him a look.

A ‘help-me-get-out-of-this,’ look.

Hobi sticks his tongue out at you and mouths, “you’ll be fine, bitch.”

By the time you gather your thoughts, Jungkook has already introduced you to his other group of friends. You completely blank out as they respond and introduce themselves. It’s only for a few seconds and you already had an idea of who they all are anyway.

The campus calls them the 97 liners.

They’re known for being…

Boys.

Decent ones at that, but they’re definitely energetic. Amusing almost all the time, competitive and intimidating when they need to be. Through rumors and observations you’ve made from afar, it made sense to you where Jungkook gets his playfulness from.

He’s…

A lot like them.

He’s definitely himself. It’s interesting.

Mingyu scoots over, making enough room for you and Jungkook. He dabs Jungkook up, greeting him as warmly as he greeted you. The others continue their conversations, asking for your input every so often. You quickly realize how charismatic everyone is, and to be completely honest, it overwhelms you.

But with Jungkook beside you, it doesn’t feel like a bad thing. He squeezes your hand under the table every so often when he notices your gaze wander. It’s like he’s gravity to you.

“Okay, so we already ordered… But we can order again if there’s something specific ___ wants,” Mingyu says, rather bubbly. He clears his throat, reaches over the table, grabs the menu and offers it to you.

“Yah, yah, yah,” Jungkook sends a glare to Mingyu, yanking the menu from him. You turn to look at him and find that he doesn't look amused. His eyes are fixed at his friend. With an intimidating tone, he warns; “Mingyu, stop flexing.”

Mingyu shakes his head, not taking it seriously. Jungkook and him have always had a playful friendship anyways. “I don't know what you're talking about... I’m not flexing. ___, feel it! I swear I’m not flexing right now.”

Jungkook tightens his grip on your hands.

Taking a sip of your water, you take your time to swallow and gather your thoughts.

“Don’t you gym with Jungkook?”

Dumb question.

“I gym more than him,” Mingyu corrects you.

Wow.

Stupid answer.

You can't help it. A laugh escapes your lips. “Is that supposed to impress me?”

Jungkook lets out a hearty chuckle, liking the way you answer. He feels proud of you. He feels like he definitely chose the right girl.

Mingyu smirks, leaning back.

He thinks this is fun.

It is fun.

“Ehhh.. I mean, if you ever let me take you on a date, I’ll show you what it means to be impressed.”

Jungkook’s smile drops.

Yours does too.

You shift closer to Jungkook and avoid Mingyu's eyes.

“H-honestly, I’m not feeling picky tonight. I’m sure whatever you guys ordered will be delicious.”

The rest of the conversation is easygoing as everyone patiently waits for the food to arrive. Mingyu’s attention turns back to his friends, as he takes the hint from your avoidant eyes. To him, it was unserious.

Hopefully, it’s also whatever to you.

As the food arrives and is set on the table, Jungkook exchanges a few side comments and whispers context into your ear. You giggle and feel your heart race when he places his hand on your thigh.

“Jungkook…”

“Hm?”

“Your hand,” you warn.

“What about my hand?”

“It’s on my thigh.”

“I know,” he snickers. “Wish it was somewhere else.”

You gasp and can’t resist hitting his chest. He takes the hit like a man. He knows he deserves it.

On the table is a plate of shrimp. You pick one up with your chopsticks and begin to peel it. As Jungkook eats, you place the freshly peeled shrimp on top of his rice. He smiles at you brightly, his heart close to combusting.

“You didn’t have to—”

Jungkook’s words are cut off as you hear Mingyu whine, “Awh, no fair! Peel me one too, please!”

You nod and answer his request. Taking another shrimp and beginning to peel it, you then finish quickly and place it on top of his rice too.

Mingyu eats it happily.

Meanwhile, Jungkook’s chest tightens. Again, it’s such a minor thing to happen… Yet, it irks him so much. He’s no boy, though. This isn’t a perilla leaf tantrum—no, he was much too mature for that.

This was… Clarity.

In between bites, Mingyu brings up a fascinating topic.

“Why are you looking at her like that?” he blurts. Jungkook hadn’t even noticed he was looking at you a certain way. What was it? Was it too revealing of his feelings?

Wait… What even is he feeling?

There’s a sense of jealousy and frustration wrapped around the core of it all; his liking of you.

“I’m not looking at her in any way,” Jungkook responds, taking a sip of water. You continue to chew and look away.

“You totally are,” Mingyu laughs. “Hey, is it because you used to like her?”

Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat. “Where did you hear that?”

“Ohh.. So it’s not true, then?”

“Nah,” Jungkook scoffs. “I just don’t get why it’s a rumor and why it’s in the past tense. It’s true… I like her. She knows it too—wait, you fuck… Do you even read the group chat? I talk about her all the fucking time.”

Mingyu’s eyes light up.

“Oh my god!” he gasps, piecing everything together. “Shit, right. I remember now. God, why’d that take me so long to connect? Of course! This is ___. The ___! Ice skating bullshit, right? Pocky kiss or whatever?”

Your eyes widen as you turn to Jungkook. “You told them?”

Jungkook smiles innocently.

“I have the best kiss of my life and you expect me not to tell my boys?”

He has you there.

Mingyu laughs, murmuring about how down bad Jungkook is. When you feel your cheeks heat up, you quickly bury your face into your hands. You feel so embarrassed… But at the same time flattered.

It’s awful.

To make matters worse, the butterflies keep fluttering as Jungkook tilts his head and smirks at you. He finds your shyness the most precious thing in this entire world. The mere fact that he makes you feel and act like this?

Oh, it’s remarkable.

Jungkook can't help but compare your behavior from earlier to now. How you took initiative and ran into his arms as if they were your safe haven—and now there's this.

You like this, right now.

So utterly his without him much being done or said. It's an understanding. It's simply how it is.

He chuckles, as he wraps his arms around you and squeezes you into a tight hug.

“Ahh... You totally folded."

With his words, your eyes widen. You push him away and roll your eyes at him. He teases you, mocking the way you cling onto his body.

You huff but let him hold onto you. From here on out, you two keep it casual and continue your conversations with everyone. He piles food onto your plate and in exchange you bring the food to his mouth.

Jungkook eats happily.

When the dinner is over, everyone goes their separate ways. 

Jungkook’s friends all hug you goodbye (Mingyu takes his sweet time) and leave him to walk you home. Hand in hand, you two wave goodbye and earn a few winks from Hobi. To that, you roll your eyes and brush it off. 

The walk with Jungkook is nice. 

The conversation between you two is so natural and good. You talk about the presentation mess up in more detail and he listens well. He empathizes with your feelings and understands. He’s so easy to talk to. He gets you. He makes you laugh even when what he’s saying isn’t funny. 

Is this how it’s like when you have feelings for someone? 

How embarrassing. 

When you two reach your front door, he looks at you longingly. 

“Feel better?” he asks you. You notice how gentle is tone is. How thoughtful.

“… About everything? The presentation and shit… Bebu, at the end of the day you did what you could. The grade your received is literally still an A—w-what”

Jungkook is startled. 

You grasp the fabric of his hoodie and pull him close. Without a second thought, you take a step closer to him and lean in. With urgency, you kiss him. 

Deep. 

Needy. 

Lovingly. 

His eyes flutter shut as you deepen the kiss with your tongue. He gives you way, parting his mouth open for you to explore and do as you please. As he kisses you back with the same kind of energy, you smile into the kiss. 

When you pull away, Jungkook is in disbelief. 

“... Now what?”

You clear your throat, feeling your lips tingling from the kiss. 

“S-sorry,” you gulp. “I d-don’t know what came over me… I just—”

“Why are you apologizing?” he blinks at you slowly. “I didn’t ask for an apology. I asked, now what?”

You tighten your lips. 

“Now? I… I just need some air.” 

Jungkook nods his head, eyebrows furrowed together. He understands you. 

Before you can open your mouth to defend or redirect, he beats you to it. 

“Yeah? Me too.”

Before you know it, he kisses you. 

Jungkook kisses you like a silent plea. Even though he has already confessed; this felt like another. 

The way he kisses you feels like a new language. He knows just when you kiss you more and when you to be delicate. He cups your jaw with the palm of his hand, tilting your head so he can kiss you better.

Which is so fucking weird… But it happens like never before.

He kisses you better.

Breaking away from the kiss, you two catch your breaths. As you do so, you clear your throat.

“Wanna come inside?” you ask, taking his hand.

He smirks, unable to stop himself. 

“Sure… But I’m gonna need some clarification on that offer… Come inside where?”

In your dimly lit kitchen, you two make yourselves a cup of tea.

Jungkook multitasks by making passes—saying that the water is still cold since you’re hotter than it. He sneaks in a few kisses on your cheeks as you tell him he’s being stupid. You two laugh as he lifts you up to sit on your kitchen island. He makes himself comfortable in between your legs.

There, you caress his hair.

He is so handsome. You love the way his nose just fits his face… How round his eyes are and even the scar on his cheek. It’s so precious.

He’s perfect, you think to yourself.

As you get lost in your thoughts, Jungkook feels so much comfort and freedom with your touch. It feels like rest. For a moment, he shuts his eyes and takes in how much he loves your touch.

Breaking the silence, you tug on his hair. “You need a haircut.”

He shakes his head, eyes still closed.

“Literally got one two weeks ago.”

“Yeah,” you realize he’s right. He did cut his hair two weeks ago. He came over that night just to show it off. “... But I liked Mingyu’s hair! It was so short. I feel like it would suit you too.”

He opens one eye and gives you a weird look.

You mimic it.

“What?”

Jungkook lifts his face.

“So… Was it just me but I definitely caught Mingyu trying to shoot his shot with you, right?” He snickers, tilting his head as he recalls what he saw. "He literally asked you out."

You shrug, explaining Mingyu's attempt to hold your hand as a friendly gesture. "He’s just friendly, right? He also tried to hold my hand to lead me to the table and that was kinda… Unexpected? But he’s like that, right? He’s just friendly. Like a puppy! Golden retriever energy.”

"Maybe," Jungkook responds, his tone betraying a hint of uncertainty. "Y-yeah. I mean, the shrimp thing was worse."

You laugh softly. "What? This is about the shrimp thing? I peeled it for you too… And it’s not like I peeled his because I wanted to. He asked. It was lighthearted."

"I know that," he reassures you, his tone softening. "I’m not that insecure to pick a fight over peeling shrimp. You don’t have to convince me it was nothing. I know it was nothing.”

Confusion flashes across your face at his mixed signals. "Are you upset?"

"Maybe," he admits quietly.

Then he hesitates.

“Actually, I think I’m frustrated. I’m not mad. Sorry if I sounded aggressive—"

"N-no, it’s fine," you reassure him, gently cutting him off. "Why are you frustrated, bebu?"

Jungkook offers you a weak smile. "I don’t get it…"

"Get what?"

"All this shit and we’re still not together.”

Your brows furrow slightly in confusion.

Taken aback, you ask him, “what’s that supposed to mean?"

Gesturing between the two of you, Jungkook expresses his confusion. "This… I mean, what is this? We’re together, aren’t we?"

"Jungkook—"

"I’m just… I don’t get it. Even if you thought he was just being friendly, why didn’t you just say you were my girlfriend? Mingyu would’ve stopped flirting with you."

"So it’s my fault?" you huff, feeling offended at the pitch of this idea. "I thought your friends knew—"

"Well… Yes. I talk about you, and it’s not like I’m ditching parties to study in that stupid library—"

"Can you leave the library out of this?"

"Okay," he sighs, relenting. "Sorry… I just… They know how I feel about you. I guess they don’t know how you feel about me, and… I mean, did you tell him we were together or not? Because if I had to remind him who you were to me, I don’t think you told him that we—"

"Jungkook—"

"No, I’m being serious," he interrupts, his tone becoming more stern. "Why didn’t you just—"

"You never asked me out!" you interject, frustration evident in your voice.

Jungkook stares at you blankly, prompting you to continue. He runs everything back in his mind.

You were right.

With all these moments, he’s been so busy planning how to get reactions out of you and completely missed out on so many perfect opportunities.

“You never asked me to be your girlfriend. All you’ve been doing this entire time is trying to get me to flirt with you, kiss you, or trick me into dates… You want me to act like your girlfriend? Ask me to be. I’m not built for situationships… And honestly? I’ve been waiting—patiently and elegantly at that. There were so many times where I wanted to hold your hand and give in. You talk about how you’ll get me to fold or whatever—fine.”

You take a breath, caving in. “This is it. I’ve folded! God, do you even know how hard it is to study next to you in that stupid library because y-you… You give me butterflies.”

Jungkook reaches for you. You let him touch you but your heart stays still, fighting to get these feelings out. Your voice wavers with emotion.

“A-and it’s so… I don’t know how you do it. At some point, I set them free. Like, fine, okay! Fly high, my butterflies… But for what?"

There’s a sense of urgency that awakens in you. Never in your life have you ever felt the same way for anyone.

It feels like defeat and victory all at once.

It feels like peace and war all at once.

It feels like love.

Oh, the madness.

To love someone this wide and deep… To love someone at all. It is everything beyond you. How it radiates through your body and onto his lips… How everything unfolds and reveals him no matter what.

You can’t decide if the way you’ve fallen is utterly heartbreaking or romantic. Maybe it’s both.

Let’s say it’s both.

All you know is that with glossy eyes and a fragmented understanding of timing, you tell him;

“Jungkook, I set my butterflies free, and they flew to you."

[yamumsyadadd]

the forgotten girl (8)

posted this originally on my old account. will be posting twice weekly :)

I tried to move on after the game. I stayed with Keira for a few days, letting her fuss over me because I knew it would make her feel better. I asked Jona to keep me as a bench player, just for a few extra games and he agreed. The team was treating me differently, they were trying to not make it obvious but it was. Anytime I paired up with someone they would make a silly mistake that they wouldn’t normally do, Cata and Sandra would let shots in that they could’ve easily stopped. There was only one person who wouldn’t go easy on me, Alexia.

I was fed up with it, after walking into the locker with Ale, laughing about something stupid Alba said, I noticed everyone stopping what they were doing and looking at us. Shock and confusion on their faces, over the period of months they had known me, I didn’t laugh much, not outwardly happy, so this was new for them.

“Can you all please stop acting like I’m made of glass? I see it. I see what you’re doing and while I appreciate the concern, I need you all to stop.”

“Milly-“ Keira started

“No Keira. I get it okay, I went MIA for three years and came back different, I get it, but I need you all to treat me like I’m normal, not some broken person who will break if you say the wrong thing.”

A murmur of sorrys went through the room, I missed the way Alexia looked at me, eyes full of admiration and love, but Mapi didn’t miss it. The weeks that followed were good, we won against Athleti Madrid, Villareal and UDG Tenerife, our next upcoming game was against Real Madrid, the El Classico. I was incredibly excited.

The Friday before El Classico, Jona pulled me into his office.

“Hi Amelia, how are you feeling?” He was calm, almost too calm.

“I’m good. Is everything okay? Did I do something wrong?” panic was arising within me. Was everything about to end before it truly started?

“Oh no! On the contrary. I want you to start tomorrow if you are feeling ok with that? I don’t want to push you into something that you aren’t ready to do.”

“Yes, god yes! Thank you Jona!”

Exiting his office I felt giddy, like a kid on Christmas eve. This was my Christmas eve, I couldn’t contain my excitement when I went into the locker room, it was mainly empty expect for Pina and Kei.

“I’M STARTING TOMORROW BITCHES!” I screamed, scaring the two girls.

“Oh my god! Milly! I am so so proud of you! Come here!” Kei pulled me into a bone crushing hug, Claudia jumping on the both of us shortly after. Unbeknownst to you, Alexia was in the bathroom, hearing everything that was spoken about. She was so incredibly proud, she wanted to come out and congratulate you herself but felt it was better to hide and let you have your moment.

Real Madrid and Barcelona were huge rivals. This game was the game of all games. Id watched it numerous times, either on the TV when I was in my hermit era or live with Eli and Alba, even dragging Emily over a couple of times. To be able to play in it, it was indescribable.  

No one in the locker room seemed nervous, well no one expect me. Jona came in and gave his last speech, followed by Alexia and Irene. Slowly the subs lefts, then the starting 11. Even in the tunnel it was loud, almost overwhelming loud, I couldn’t hear my heartbeat, or what the girls were saying around me. It was all very overwhelming. Alexia noticed, pulling me to the side, her hands cradling my face.

“you’re okay mil. You deserve to be here. You’re the best, show them that.” After kissing my forehead, she was back at the start of the line. She was right, as always, I was okay, and I deserved to be there.

The start of the game was a little shaky, having to adjust quickly to cancelling the noise of the crowd out to be able to hear my teammates and the refs whistle. The first goal came easily, a break in the defence meant I was able to run through after receiving a perfect ball from Alexia. Misa didn’t stand a chance, 1-0. Scoring in front of 90,000 people is something I’ll never get used to.

Goal after goal was scored, by half time it was 5-0. Alexia with two goals and 2 assists, me with 2 goals and 1 assist, Caro scoring the other goal. I felt bad for Misa, she was a great person and a great goalie, her team was just shit. She wouldn’t leave though, she’s too loyal, much like alexia in that respect.

By the end of the game it was 9-0, alexia and myself with a hattrick, Caro with 2 and Vicky with 1. Misa was crying by the end of it, by passing everyone else I went to her. Engulfing her in a hug, I let her cry. Her frustrations were justified, and she deserved to let them out. After a while, she pulled back.

“I am so glad youre back, but im even more glad it took so long to have to play you.” I laughed, I always tried to visit Misa when I could, even making Alexia come with me, not that she hated it.

“I missed you too Misa.”

“you coming out tonight? Please say yes. You owe me a drink or three!”

“Fine you convinced me! I’ll see you later M” I trottered off to say good game to the rest of Real. As I was finishing up with Hayley Raso, a body jumped on my back, and then another one. Claud and Patri were yelling out ‘MVP’ and sent us tumbling to the ground. All three of us laughing as each other.

During our usual walk around to thank the fans, Alexia dragged me towards her mum and sister. 

“Mija! There you are. My god I’m so proud of you!” Eli pulled me into a bone crushing hug, leaving kisses all over my cheeks. Alba quickly joined in. Alexia had walked off to say hi to Olga and some other friends. 

“”You’re coming out right? Please say you are.” Alba asked. 

“Alba-“

“I am yes.” She squealed, pulling me into another hug. 

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to mil. It’s not a problem.” Alexia didn’t want to push. It had been a big afternoon already and she would’ve completely understood if I didn’t want too. 

“No it’s fine. I promise. I want to go.” Quickly reassuring the captain that it truly wasn’t a problem. There was a look in her eye, something I couldn’t place. It wasn’t happiness, or sadness, maybe guilt? 

Quickly hugging Olga and Vir, before being pulled back away by Alba, she wanted to talk about outfits for tonight, she had decided to come to my house and get ready, to make sure I didn’t ’run away’, that comment got her a slap on the head from Ale and Eli. 

After slowly making it back to the locker room, the cheers could be heard from the tunnel. Everyone was singing and dancing, some wet from their shower or still in their kits. Deciding to ignore the partying for the mean time and opting for a shower in peace was the smartest decision I’d made. After I was finished I quietly and carefully slipped out of the locker room, wanting to go home and relax for an hour before Alba turned up. 

unintentionally, I fell asleep on the couch as soon as I got home, waking up to multiple loud knocks on the door. Alba was standing there, looking panicked. 

“Jesus Christ I thought you were fucking dead.” She lets out an annoyed sigh 

“Sorry I fell asleep.” 

“You’re not bailing. I don’t care if I have to drag you out.” 

“Relax. I’m still coming.” 

after 2 hours, many shots, and 3 extra bodies, we were all ready to go. The Uber to the club was fairly quick, Lucy and Misa were arguing over something stupid, Keira and Ona laughing at them and Alba holding my hand. The club was loud and full when we got there. Everyone holding hands to make it to the booth where the rest of the team were sitting. 

“Wow you finally showed up!” Mapi yelled, getting everyone’s attention. Alba came back shortly after with Misa, both carrying trays of shots. 

after lots of drinks, most of us were drunk. Half the group staying in the booth and half of us on the dance floor. Dancing in the middle of Alba and Misa, grinding on both in a purely platonic way, I felt eyes burning into my skull. Manoeuvring to see who it was, was quite the challenge, but it did. Confusion struck me. Anger, frustration, jealousy, rippled her face. With a huff, she got up and walked away. 

Why was Alexia so mad at me? What did I do? 

[eowynstwin]

Blackbird, Fly - Three

Cowboy Gaz x mail order bride—only, not his. After exchanging letters for half a year with ranching man Hans König, you finally travel out west to marry him. - You wonder if this is how lambs feel, when shorn for the first time. - content warning for marital rape after the second break. - ao3

previous

“Come,” says Hans, tugging on your arm, “let’s get you ready for the ceremony.”

Your husband-to-be leads you up the porch steps and into the house, long legs carrying him ahead so fast you must practically jog to keep up with him. You stumble when you enter the house—the interior is fantastically well-appointed, with papered walls and carved wood furniture, framed photos hanging beside paintings, pressed flowers, hunting trophies, rifles and knives and old farm equipment. The floor beneath your feet is polished and smooth, spread over in places with thick, fringed rugs. You don’t see much more of it after your initial impression; Hans pulls you along at a clip.

Even such a brief glimpse, though, proves your long-held assumptions about Hans and his livelihood; his family has done well for itself, over the years. The kitchen, dining room, and sitting room are all separate from each other, and the manor’s first floor alone is larger than the small farmhouse you grew up in. Your family always made an effort to present a comfortable, clean home, but it seems downright drab in memory now in comparison to this.

There’s a bit of a bustle going on as Hans tugs you along—you hear movement in the kitchen, punctuated by the clang of dishes moving to and fro. A rough voice grinds out something short, and a couple of cowboys emerge with covered dishes that they set on the dining table before they return back into the fray. In the sitting room, an older woman with short, sandy brown hair sits at a desk, spectacles perched on the end of her nose. She glances up at you, betrays no interest, and then ignores you.

“You’ll meet everyone at the ceremony,” Hans says. He directs you up the stairs. “Right now you need something nice to wear.”

“O-oh,” you say, lifting the hem of your skirt as you climb the steps. The fabric, purchased at a discount after you’d saved pennies and nickels for months, suddenly feels thin and insubstantial between your fingers.

Hans brings you into the main bedroom, equally well-designed with molded wood paneling and brass lanterns on the walls, where he goes to a chest at the foot of the massive bed four-poster bed. Everything you’ve seen so far in this house is much finer than what even the most well-to-do farmers back home could display; you used to imagine that wealth like this could only be within the reach of select few businessmen on the east coast. You never imagined you’d have the chance to marry into it.

“I think this should suit you,” says Hans, turning to you with a stack of clothing in one hand.

You take it from him when he proffers it—a skirt, blouse, and jacket, you find. The fabric is silky in your hands, glossy and cool to the touch and very fine. You shake out the skirt; yards of bustled fabric tumble open to reveal pleated gathers, elegant bows, and velvet trim. The paired jacket is much the same, with pearl buttons down the front, and the accompanying blouse is a weave of tight, delicate lace.

Your earlier fears are soundly confirmed; you are in no way dressed for a wedding to Hans König. Gaz had only been trying to be kind; being here, now, seeing the kind of splendor Hans lived with every day, no one could make the mistake that you could measure up on your own.

“Thank you, Hans,” you say, face warming with embarrassment.

“Think nothing of it,” says Hans, looking you up and down expectantly. “Go on.”

You blink. “Ex—excuse me?”

Hans raises his brows as if it should be obvious. “Why, let’s see you in it, dear girl.”

You blanch. Surely he isn’t suggesting…“But—well, Hans, we aren’t—we haven’t—”

“My dear, I’ve already promised to marry you. Why would I go to such expense on a wedding merely to fool you into showing me your underthings?”

You drop your gaze to the floor, cheeks burning. “It’s not proper.”

“Bah,” says Hans. He takes the clothes back from you, tosses them onto the bed, and brings his hands to the buttons down your front. “It’s not like I won’t see this again in a few hours.”

You are rooted to the spot. He unbuttons your dress with an alacrity that startles you; in a few short moments, he makes an opening wide enough to slip over your shoulders, and unceremoniously he pushes the collar open and lets the dress drop to the floor.

You blink several times. You wonder if this is how lambs feel, when shorn for the first time; do they feel suddenly like they’ve been skinned? Does the air suddenly feel much closer, more real than it had before? You remember shearing season on a neighbor’s farm, the angular planes of shortened fleece cropped close to twitching flesh. The sheep had looked unfinished after the deed was done—like wooden figurines only partly whittled.

When you look to Hans’ face, you find him gazing at the tight space where your chemise tucks into the line of your corset. Then, as if in a dream, he reaches out with one huge hand and cups the mound of one breast.

The air vacates your lungs. It’s the first time a man has ever touched you this way.

When young ladies of a certain age gather to socialize, matters of discussion inevitably tend toward the prurient. Your peers delighted in sharing the wealth of erotic experience they’d accrued; trysts in larders, late graveyard meetings, dizzying accounts of hands and mouths in places that sent shame pumping hot and curious through your veins. You lived vicariously through their adventures; opportunities for your own, with three older brothers and a protective father, were nonexistent.

The embarrassing fact is that in matters of your marital duties, you received no practical education.

The one time your mother, a modest woman, saw fit to tutor you, she’d taken you out to the small enclosure in which the family goats were kept. The animals were useful for milk and occasionally meat, so there was always a breeding pair at hand. This occasion, they served the additional use of instruction; the male was rutting.

Your mother had made you watch as the billy mounted the nanny, and shoved its little goat prick into her hindquarters. The billy seemed mindless with want, ferocious, gyrating its hips uncomfortably, which the nanny took with what seemed like resigned patience, if it was paying attention at all. Once the billy finished, it dismounted, chewed its cud a little bit, and walked off. The nanny seemed unperturbed, rather detached from the whole thing, and similarly continued with whatever it had been doing before.

“It’s about like that,” said your mother, unable to look you in the eye.

So you have little knowledge of the matter.

And you have no idea what to do now, as your husband-to-be fondles you and stares down at you with what seems like only idle interest. Hans’ thumb brushes over the space where your nipple would be, hot even through layers of cotton and whalebone. The fine hairs on your arms raise, standing straight up.

What are you supposed to do now? Touch him back? Your stomach turns over at the thought. Even if you wanted to, you have no idea how. Hans is touching you so casually, as if you’ve been his wife for years, but you are as poor in wifely instinct as you are in everything else.

“Lovely,” he says, eyes locked on the place where your chest is rapidly rising and falling.

You inhale shakily. This is fine. He wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t—of course it’s all right, you’re to be married within the hour. It’s only your breast, and only his hand, and it’s over your clothes. It’s fine.

“May—” your voice comes out dry. You clear your throat. “May I dress now, Hans?”

He smiles. You note that he has a thin-lipped smile, and his eyes do not crinkle at the corners. “Of course.”

-

When the guests have all arrived, when the world around you is bathed in the orange-gold light of the setting sun, and when the mandolin plays the bridal chorus, you join Hans König under an archway of lupine and Indian paintbrush. Evening gives way to night as the last day of your old life comes to a close, ending as you say the words that until now you’ve only whispered in the night at your bedside.

For better—for worse—as long as you both shall live. Over and over again, until your tongue recognized the shape of them like the Lord’s Prayer. As if practicing them enough would speed the hour to you all the sooner in which their vow became real.

Hans kisses you for the second time, and then together, arm in arm, you turn to face the congregation’s applause.

Stars begin peeking white faces through the dimming sky as the band strikes up a tune, and as the reception commences, you must shake hands with the whole county. The priest John MacTavish insists upon introducing himself first—a younger man, with vivid blue eyes and an unusual haircut, gives his congratulations in a husky Scottish brogue entirely inappropriate for a man of the cloth. He’s followed by the sheriff, Simon Riley, who practically chases him off—another tall man, near to your husband’s height, and twice as broad. Curiously, he wears a bandanna across the lower half of his face. His greeting to you is gruff, short—polite in a way that seems unnatural for him.

Next is a slightly older woman, splendidly dressed in lace-trimmed taffeta. She comes over to kiss your cheeks in the French style. Hans ducks his head as she smiles at you; you can’t help but feel similar trepidation. She is terribly striking, with delicate creases on either side of her mouth and a mysterious twinkle in her eye.

“The hotel in town is my establishment,” she tells you. “The bath house, as well.”

“Oh,” you say, “how lovely.”

Her smile quirks at the corners; she looks at Hans, then back to you, and softly chucks your chin. “You’re a pretty thing, aren’t you, darling?”

“Yes, Madame, thank you,” your husband says quickly as your face sets to blazing. “I believe others would like to speak to us, as well, if you don’t mind.”

She gives you another enigmatic smile, tightens the light chiffon wrap around her shoulders, and leaves you to the banker and his wife, who both eagerly step up to talk your ear off.

Farmers, other ranchers, ramblers and gamblers and trappers; it seems everyone in the state has come to pay you their respects, and they all want to meet you at the exact same time. The rough voice you heard in the kitchen manifests itself in the form of a burly man with mutton chops, who introduces himself as John Price the saloon owner. A young woman with an unsmiling face named Ms. Boucher tells you your first purchase at her dry goods store will be discounted by five percent, as a welcome gift from her to you. She punctuates the statement with a narrow-eyed look at your husband, but you have no time to wonder at it before the next guests capture your attention.

A whole line of Hans’ cowboys, headed by the woman you saw working at the writing desk when you arrived, form up to tell you their names and pledge you their loyalty, still dressed in their wrangling leathers but bathed and combed and polished for the occasion nonetheless. The woman introduces herself as Kate Laswell, the foreman.

“I took care of the accounting after Anna passed,” Laswell says to you. “Tomorrow I’ll go through the books with you. It’ll be your job from now on.”

“Now, Kate, you shouldn’t discuss business at my wedding,” says Hans, politely, but somewhat terse. “And besides, that would be far too much for my new bride.”

“Hans, I told you,” you say earnestly, referencing a summer letter, “I want to be a part of things.”

He smiles genially at you—but the expression seems tight. “Of course, dear.”

“Tomorrow,” Kate says to you. Curiously, she looks you up and down. Then, “You’ll need to see the tailor, as well, I think.”

Her words are not said unkindly, but they shame you anyway, reminding you just how poorly matched as yet you are to this life. When you’d put the dress on earlier, it had been immediately clear to you that it was not made to your measurements, but you hadn’t thought it would be so obvious to anyone else. Only Hans’ cowboys proceeding to introduce themselves saves you from having to respond.

One is conspicuously absent.

Unexpectedly, it hurts. Even though it shouldn’t. Gaz had only driven you here, after all. You’ve known him less than a day. It shouldn’t disappoint you, as you keep your eyes on the moving line, that he does not come forward, but it does.

In between meeting the county folk, you manage to get a few bites of the wedding feast—prime rib, lamb chowder, baked fish, seasoned potatoes, collard greens, fried tomatoes, sourdough biscuits, and three different fruit cobblers still somehow steaming from the oven. You and Hans cut the bride’s cake, an impressive sheet of angel food and ivory buttercream that he must have procured at outrageous cost; you are not embarrassed to wolf it down in front of Hans’ guests. It’s the sweetest, softest thing you’ve ever eaten, more delicate than you ever could have imagined any food could be.

As the sky darkens overhead, the faint cloud of the milky way coalesces in the light of the waxing moon, and the band takes up a lively jig as the wedding party sallies forth to the clearing to dance arm in arm. Your husband whirls you along with them, arm around your waist, and then you’re dancing, too, and the familiar two-step lifts your flagging spirits as the cool night air runs quick, soft fingers across your burning cheeks.

So what if some cowboy hadn’t made it to your wedding? You’re dancing with your husband, after months of longing for him; everything and everyone else is inconsequential laid up against this triumph.

Faces blur in the lamplight the night falls indigo around you, and as the music changes Hans twirls you into a new set of arms in a jaunt that has everyone exchanging partners. They hold you only briefly before the music changes again, and off you bounce to another, the world spinning around you faster and faster, jubilant and surreal, and then another—

Suddenly you are in Kyle Garrick’s arms.

He catches you like lassoing a runaway horse, taking your momentum into the pillar of his body as he winds you in close. One of his hands spreads warm across your back, fingers spanning what feels like the entire breadth of your waist. His other cradles your own in his palm, long fingers folded around it like an envelope. You fit against him easily, perfectly, like a couple illustrated in a storybook.

“Mr. Garrick,” you gasp.

“Mrs. König,” he says.

Suddenly you realize you’re out of breath. You take deep gulps of air, and Gaz’s scent permeates your lungs. Lavender soap and bay rum, polished leather, sweet hay. The soft, dense curls of his hair are combed and parted a little, and the short stubble he’d greeted you with on the train platform is tonsured down flush to his jaw.

He leans in closer to you, hovers his lips near to one ear. “You changed your dress.”

He doesn’t keep pace with the other dancers, or swing you around in time with the music; he lets the world slow around you both, the music falling away as he brings the pace of your heart down with soft line of his mouth and the steady, still look in his dark eyes. His hand on your back radiates so much warmth that it cuts through the evening chill just beginning to set in, as if his palm is directly against your naked skin.

You smile meekly. “It wasn’t appropriate for a wedding.”

His dark brows pull together; his hands tighten their purchase on you. You watch him avert his eyes from you, take a great breath in through flared nostrils.

“Mr. Garrick,” you say, feeling too honest, “do you disapprove of me?”

He snaps his gaze back to you. “Why would you think that?”

You swallow. “You don’t seem very pleased, whenever we talk, is all.”

Suddenly Gaz smiles—lets out a short, sharp laugh that bares his even teeth, shows the points of his canines. “That’s not your fault. I promise you.”

“Then what is it?”

He gazes at you. Lamplight casts the angles of his face in shadow, deepens the darkness of his eyes. His shoulder is solid beneath where your hand rests, shaped hard by a life on the range; you could lay the entirety of your weight against him, you think, and he wouldn’t even sway with holding you up. There’s something very present about Kyle Garrick. Something real. It draws you in like the earth draws the moon into its orbit.

“Do you really want this?” he asks you.

You blink. “Of course I do.”

“You hardly know him.”

“I’ve known him for half a year, Mr. Garrick,” you say, somewhat unsure how much explanation you owe this cowboy. After all, you’d vowed to earn his trust, as his employer’s new wife. “I know you might have some reservations about me. I understand, really.”

“No,” says Gaz immediately, dark brows low and serious over his eyes. “Not about you.”

“Mrs. König!” an accented voice calls.

Immediately the world speeds up around you again, music crashing back into your ears, wedding guests spinning and leaping around you, and you turn to see your husband standing at the edge of the clearing.

The dancing comes to a halt at the sound of his voice; Hans outstretches one hand toward you.

“I believe it is time for us to retire,” he says.

Gaz’s hands tighten on you again. You feel the eyes of the other dancers on the two of you, tight lines of attention between you and them.

You have felt it all evening, really—the undercurrent lining every conversation, the askance looks tossed at you and your husband when no one thought you’d notice. The pervading sense of some drama playing out just outside of your comprehension.

You turn to look back at Gaz. His mouth is pressed into a hard line. The wells of his eyes are ink-dark, opaque, eclipsed by something of a shape beyond your knowing. He says nothing as he holds your gaze, only watches you with an expectation so stoic, so resigned, that you feel almost guilty for releasing him.

He lets you go as if his grasp wasn’t even tight in the first place. You turn away from him, from the stone-hard expression on his face, and go to slide your fingers into your husband’s waiting hand.

Wolf-whistles populate the night air as he smiles approvingly, nods, and leads you away. Short bursts of knowing applause behind you draw your shoulders tight together.

“Ignore them,” says Hans, tucking your hand into the crook of his arm. “They’re just fools.”

You look back over your shoulder. Gaz still stands amid the dancers, a wide berth around him. His eyes have not left you; they pierce you in the night, sharp even as the distance between you grows.

You have only one other point of reference, aside from your mother’s tutelage, for how the end of this evening might go. A topaz glimmering in the folds of your memory.

Years ago, before the shine had worn off as it usually does with older siblings, you’d worshiped your oldest brother like he was Jesus Christ returned. You’d trailed after him like a newborn pup, dogging his every step, hoping your devotion would earn you even the smallest scraps of his affection. You’d watched his comings and goings like you could divine the mysteries of God from the merest angle of his movements.

One night, far past the time when everyone should be asleep, he’d slipped out of the small three-room house your family shared. You knew, because you slept closest to the door, and by then could recognize him by the rhythm of his footsteps. Like any nosy little sibling, you’d followed him out once you were sure he couldn’t hear you behind him.

He’d made his creeping way toward the barn, his path and yours lit only by a waxing moon. You remember, sneaking along after him, noticing a dim glow emanating from the cracks in the hayloft door, and guessed that your brother had realized he’d forgotten to snuff a lantern before going to bed—and now he was going to put it out, rather than leave a hay fire to chance.

He went inside. You were about to follow (no sibling, however divine, was exempt from a good ribbing, and nearly burning down the barn was excellent blackmail fodder)—when you heard another voice.

A female voice. Soft, and sweet, and welcoming.

Very little preamble separated that revelation from the next, and what you heard in the following moments rooted you there in place; movement. Rustling. For the span of a few heartbeats, nothing except for the crickets in the fields—and then, like the moon rising on a cloudless night—a growing chorus, voices high and low, moaning together in staccato.

You’d stood there, frozen absolutely solid, as it went on. The high voice lifted higher, and higher, carried on frantic, rapid breaths, until it cut off with a shriek that muffled so fast you knew your brother had covered the girl’s mouth.

Then—quiet, shared laughter.

So you know a little more than what the goats taught you.

Hans leads you back inside the house, where the lanterns have been turned to low, orange specks of light. You fix your eyes on the nape of his neck ahead of you as the two of you climb the stairs, making your way back to the master bedroom. The cacophony of the wedding celebration is far away; he opens the door, draws you inside, and shuts it behind him.

You stand in the middle of the room, looking at him. This whole evening has felt like a dream, but as you gaze at your husband, you suddenly feel like you’re waking up. You have not been alone with Hans since you met him, not really, and you realize he hasn’t felt quite real to you because of it. You almost feel as if you can see him, for the first time, see the words that have made him up in your memory coalesce into the flesh-and-blood man standing before you.

This is him. This is Hans. This is the man you love.

Softly, you approach him. Reach up with two hands to take his face in them; press your lips, shyly, unpracticed, to his.

“Hans,” you say, more softly than you have ever said anyone’s name in your life, looking into the pale blue of his eyes.

He gazes down at you. “Let’s get undressed,” he says.

It’s the moment you expected, but it daunts you nonetheless. You nod, step away from your husband, and he sets to the task—he shucks his coat, dropping it on the floor, and unhooks his suspenders. Swiftly you turn away from him when he begins unbuttoning his shirt, face blazing—of course, you’ve seen men undress before, you have three brothers, but this—this—

The reality of what you are about to do douses you all at once, soaking you to the bone. When you bring your hands up to the buttons of your bodice, they are trembling; you can barely get the tiny pearls between your fingers to undo them. You hear more clothes land on the floor behind you as you struggle, and then nothing. Stillness.

His eyes are heavy on your back. He is silent as you finally get the jacket off, and the blouse along with it; he is silent as you push the skirt down over your hips, the garment piling on the floor.

Your whole body is shaking by the time you’re down only to your chemise, shivering like a foal on new legs as you bare your shoulders. You close your eyes. There’s no need to be afraid as you shuffle the garment down your back. It’s only your husband behind you, looking at you as you bare your buttocks, as you step out of the split shorts, as the cool night air caresses your naked belly.

“That’s enough,” Hans says behind you when your hands go to the ties on your stockings.

You go still.

“Get on the bed, now.”

-

You focus on your breathing. Long breaths, in and out, as you crawl belly-first onto the mattress, which sinks luxuriously under your weight, softer than any bed you’ve lain on in your life. Suddenly, before you have time to adjust, the mattress sinks even more under you, and an envelope of heat and weight looms over you, pressing hard onto you, bare skin and the smell of sweat and the sound of another person’s breathing over you invading your senses.

Then there’s something blunt nudging at the entrance of your sex. A hand on your hip, gripping tight. The blunt thing circles briefly, parting your folds, and then is pressing into you. Pressing in somewhere tight, somewhere that doesn’t want to open to let it in. You hold your breath. It presses harder, fighting the resistance, and then finally gets past it, just a half inch or so—and suddenly it hurts.

“Hans,” you whisper.

He hasn’t seem to have heard you. He pushes harder, just a bit further. There’s another wall of resistance, this one needling and far more solid. You gasp sharply at the dryness of it, the way his member seems to want to push your own folds up into you as it tries to get in, shoving, bludgeoning, and then, mercifully, Hans pulls away.

It’s on the tip of your tongue to suggest that maybe the two of you try this later. Clearly there is something about you that’s not ready for it—but then his hand is between your legs, smearing something slippery around, and just briefly he touches something that pulses with interest. You jolt as little sparks of pleasure dance through you but quickly burn out, and then, the blunt head of his cock is back, pushing in, much faster, much smoother, huge and hard—

Suddenly it is sharp inside you, razor sharp, paralyzing. You shriek in pain, tears welling acidic in your eyes, shocked, betrayed, and he keeps coming, an endless length of him forcing inside, making room where there is none, going somewhere it clearly must not belong—and then he groans, loud and guttural, and begins to pull out.

You don’t have enough time to mistake this for the end of it. He pulls out halfway and then rams back in, slamming against your body, punching what must be the very limit of the space he can make for himself in your body. Pain roars to life around his cock, radiating outward, a ripping and shredding that grows as he forces himself into you again, and then again, and then it’s happening for real, he’s begins thrusting so fast it knocks the breath from your lungs, slapping his hips against your backside as he grunts and groans behind you like a dumb animal. He batters some nexus of agony that sends you screaming, shrieking with every jerk of his hips, tears streaming down your face as you grip the blanket in clawed fingers.

“Please, Hans, stop, please!”you wail. “Stop, stop, stop—”

His hand grips back of your head, turning your face downward—pressing it against the bed, muffling your mouth and nose and eyes into the blanket—

He jerks against you as agony writes itself into your bone marrow. Your hands circle in on themselves so tightly you feel your fingernails bite into your palms. Any memory of laughter you ever had abandons you.

Then, suddenly, mercifully, he’s forcing himself into you as deeply as he can, groaning loud, and something warm blooms in you, squelches out warm and sticky as he pulls in and out a few more times. He stills then from his furious rutting, hanging over you, panting.

Then he pulls out. Your husband lets you go and rolls over, breathing hard on the bed. You lay absolutely dead still, shaking violently, every muscle in your body tensed up painfully tight.

“Hans,” you whimper, “Hans.”

“Mm-hm,” he hums.

“Hans.” Every nerve is vibrating with pain. “Hans, that hurt.”

There is a long silence after. So long, you start to believe that he won’t say anything; that perhaps, even, he’s fallen asleep, and your words have dropped like flies from the air between you before they reached him.

But he hasn’t fallen asleep. Your husband shuffles off the bed, lifts the linen, and shuffles back into it. The lantern light is dim in the bedroom, but light enough that you can see the nonplussed expression on his face.

“Anna got used to it,” he says finally, eyes closing. “You will too.”

And he turns on his side and says no more to you.

You lay there aching. When you drag your fingers through the slick mess between your thighs, streaks of red intermingle with the clear and the white.

Suddenly you want this day to be over. You want to close your eyes and dream that it never happened—or maybe, if you go to sleep, you’ll awaken to find that it was all a dream after all, and you’re still home, your mother cooking just outside the bedroom door. Slowly, you inch off the bed, finding the floor with your stockinged feet, and go to douse the lanterns.

The room is cold and silvery without their light. Darkness gathers in the corners, around the weak glow of moonlight failing to fully penetrate the curtains over the window. You gingerly swipe the cloth from a nearby washbasin between your legs, cleaning up the remnants of your husband’s pleasure, and then, with nowhere else to go, you return to the empty side of the bed and crawl stiffly under the covers.

He does not stir as you settle in beside him. You lay your head on the pillow next to his and fold your hands over your stomach.

Outside and far away, you think you can hear the band still merrily playing. The darkness deepens, and deepens, until you can’t tell where it ends and you begin.

-

next

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Lucifer + Alastor - [ NSFW 3 ]

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A/N: Had this song on repeat since its release and it reminded me of these two so much…

WARNINGS: [ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ FEM READER ] + [ SLIGHT DUB CON ]

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Sharing is caring, but when it comes to being between the King of Hell himself and his newly established opponent - the all too cocky Radio Demon- you don’t have much say in who gets fair claim of your existence.

Sharing is caring, but only in the ways that matter to the men wrapped around your little finger. Lucifer needs your physical touch; he can’t go one moment without it, and god help you if you’re around other flirtatious sinners -he’ll be all over you for no reason at all. Hand on your hip, lower back, even on your ass if he’s feeling possessive. His height doesn’t matter, not when he can back hug you just fine, plant kisses on your head or temple, and sit you down on his lap without a second thought. Lucifer is a sucker for praising you, every word out of his mouth is sweeter than honey, and the knowing smile on his lips when you get all soft and shy from his gentle admiration swells his already massive sense of pride.

“You’re a sweet little sinner, aren’t you, baby doll?”

“I’m so proud of you, my love.”

“Oh, aren’t you just the cutest thing!”

“I’ll do anything you ask of me, sweetheart..”

“Atta girl…keep going…just like that…”

The King of Hell never runs out of patience for you, spending his free time in your presence without a care for his rival's foreboding aura. Though at times they blatantly argue, the drop of your sweet smile into a solemn frown has them both rushing out an apology. However, Lucifer is quicker than Alastor to admit his faults. He makes up for mistakes with sincere gestures, visiting you in the dead of night with the promise of pleasure radiating off him in tangible waves. By the following day, you can’t even begin remembering what you were angry about.

Sharing is caring, but Alastor has a hard time with both concepts. He’s not one for physical affection, preferring acts of service and gift-giving as alternatives. You don’t seem to mind, always at his side when he calls, a pretty little thing on his arm while he struts about hell running conspicuous errands, and a genuinely engaging sinner he doesn’t mind having deep conversations with. You contrast him in all the right ways: expressive but gentle, lethal but only when provoked. Unlike most demons, you hold value to Alastor, drawing out a softer, more honest version of the stag that most will never see. In private, you’re allowed to babble off his ear while he works, cuddle up in his lap when he’s feeling ‘vulnerable,’ and sometimes you’re lucky enough to get a few somewhat kind words from the overlord amid lingering kisses.

“What a pretty little thing you are,”

“I’m tempted to keep you all to myself, ma chere… Would you like that, hm?”

“I know you can’t help being a greedy girl, darling, but I’ll always be better than that pompous excuse for a king.”

“You love to provoke me, don’t you, little one? Prancing around the hotel like you do, smiling at every little thing, and showing off for attention..”

“It’s rather pathetic, but lovely things can’t control what they attract..”

He’s possessive, outright toxic in some instances, but you’re quick to manipulate the stag into an agreeable state with the threat of seeking out Lucifer’s company over his. This tactic occasionally works, but sometimes it enrages Alastor to bloodlust. His semi-polite exterior falters, causing the overlord to be on edge with everyone -especially Lucifer- and the king won’t let a chance to irritate him further slip by.

“Something bothering you, Rudolph?”

Lucifer snickers as Alastor enters the parlor through its shadows, automatically glaring at the sight of you straddling the blonde fallen angel with his hat lazily set on your head, and you giggle at his obvious disdain for the scene. “Oh, don’t look so upset, Al. I just wanted to play with Luci for a bit.. “ you flash him a cheeky grin, purposely shifting on the devil's lap to feel his growing erection and show more skin hidden underneath your fluffy oversized jumper. Lucifer chuckled, ducking his head to give you a quick kiss as the crackle of static resonated around the room, but you were far from scared of Alastor’s fury in the presence of his rival.

Sharing is caring, but later that night, when you snuggled under your bedsheets with Lucifer, lying on his bare chest, only wearing his dress shirt, soundly asleep, and listening to his undead heartbeat, you’re jolted awake by the distinctive coolness of shadows lurking over your skin.

“What made you think I wouldn’t put you in your place, my dear? That I wouldn’t remind you he’s not the only one who can lay claim to your very existence?..”

Alastor’s voice echoes through your head, coaxing you awake as his specters entangle around you. They tug, pull, squeeze, and ravish your small frame with his every word. Your cunt starts to pulse with need, leaking arousal in steady drops as a shadowy tentacle prods your entrance before sheathing itself in your warm walls with one sharp thrust.

“Ahm!” You yelp, eyes shooting open as a satisfied whine leaps from your lips; quiet moans soon follow as the bulk of shadows touches your womb with tender strokes. Two more snake up the borrowed dress shirt, swirling under the white silk with precise menstruations, encircling your fragile body ruthlessly until you’re forced to sit up in hopes of gaining more fleeting touches. “Alastor, you’re being mean…” you groan into the darkness, hips rutting down in timid circles, a reflexive action you try to maintain to avoid waking the man lying under you. Alastor’s low laughter shifts from your mind to the confines of the room, signaling his physical appearance in the space, and you’re tempted to search for him but aren’t given a chance to as the scrape of his sharp claws manifests along your sides. He’s close, so close you can feel him leering behind you, breathing in your ear as if he needed your scent to survive.

You lean backward, humming at the familiar firmness of his chest meeting your back,” Just wanted you to be a little nicer, that’s all…” Your explanation for earlier does nothing to quell Alastor’s jealousy; his hands hovering over your sides clamp down harshly, and his claws shred through Lucifer’s shirt to prick your skin. Your heart thuds wildly as a scream threatens to fall from your chest from the pain he causes, but your cunt clenches with excitement from his aggressive treatment. “Reasoning won’t help you now, darling. It seems you only understand one thing..” he purrs into your ear, red eyes glowing as they trace your flushed form, “A-and what’s that?..” you mumble fearfully, feeling a coil build in your core, but a pang of shame in your chest overrides it as Lucifer begins to stir below you. He’ll awake any second, and though you weren’t afraid of him seeing you in a whorish state, very used to being intimate with him, the unpredictable reaction he’d have to Alastor taking advantage of you right in front of his eyes was still nerve-wracking.

Sharing is caring, and Alastor’s response to your feverish question makes more sense than you care to admit. “Attention, my dear. You’re shamelessly addicted to it,” he drawls, smile widening when you whine helplessly, back arching as his shadows wrap around your breasts before swiping over your pert nipples while your cunt no longer resists forceful strokes of his shadows. Your vision blurs as the sensations blend, erasing mannerable actions from your thoughts the closer to cumming you got, and the riveting shivers vibrating your body were evidence enough. The subtle tremble of your thighs mixed with the combined noise of your soft moans and Alastor’s hushed taunting drew the King of Hell awake with a gentle start. Lucifer ruts his hips upwards on instinct before groaning tiredly, mildly aware of the familiar stickiness your arousal causes on his pale skin but unsure as to why it’s there. “Baby, what’s the matter-“He’s at a loss for words for a long moment, almost panting at the sight above him, confused at first but gradually intrigued as sleep waned from his consciousness. Alastor smirks, lips against your neck as he stares down at the fallen angel, daring him to instigate a fight. “Ah, looks like you awoke your preferred lover, ma chere. How rude…” the deer demon taunts you, clearly unbothered by your disagreements and conflicted writhing. “N-no, that’s not ah- ah- mmm fuck Al, please d-don’t!” A bright blush coats your cheeks, tears brimming your waterline as the demon nips at your bare shoulder before lapping up the blood that trickles from the wound. His gaze never leaves Lucifer’s as his tongue collects the red liquid, humming triumphantly as a prominent red color floods the ladders’ cheeks and eyes. “How fucking dare you..” the blonde hisses, voice thick with an indecipherable emotion, and you whine anxiously as embarrassment rushes your veins. It wasn’t your fault Alastor was taking his anger out on you this way, disregarding his aversion for touch in the hopes of getting back at you both, but it’d be a lie if you said you weren’t enjoying the intense situation brewing.

Sharing is caring, and you're afraid neither entity will consider doing so as a heavy beat of silence engulfs the room. The only sound is your rushed breaths, growing heavier with every thrust and twist of Alastor’s shadows in and around your body. You try to break free from the overlord, gazing down at Lucifer pleadingly for a better chance at forgiveness. Unexpectedly, his displeased expression morphs dramatically seeing the desperation in your eyes. He’d never been the type for sadism, let alone encouraging it, but your need for his help stirred a primal desire in his chest that he’d only felt sparks of recently. It was no help to him that Alastor, a demon with no remorse or pity for your plight, was the one indicting pleasure on you. He’d seen the stag agitated, irritated, and maybe even flustered but never lustful. It was new and undeniably attractive. Why waste an opportunity to use it against him?

Lucifer took a slow breath, stamping out his rage in seconds as his eyes shifted from your lidded ones to Alastor’s, “How dare you have fun without me, hm?… that’s a little unfair,” he pouts, stifling a groan as his cock twitches to life. The radio demon scoffs, forgetting his grudge against Lucifer for the mutual benefit of desire, “If you wished for fairness, you shouldn’t have fallen from heaven …” he taunts back.

Sharing is caring, but the instant sting of Alastor’s insult doesn’t anger Lucifer like usual. It eggs on the blonde, prompting him to reach for you, and you welcome the gentle coolness of his fingers trailing up front. Unlike Alastor, his claws do you no harm, never breaking skin even as he cups your jaw firmly. “C’mere, little one. M’ not going to hurt you…” he coos quietly, eyes glowing as brightly as Alastor’s as you leer into his touch like a wounded lamb. “Yes sir…” you whisper compliantly, surprised that Alastor relents his hold just enough to let you follow Lucifer’s lead. He’s relatively calm watching you, admiring how your hair falls like a curtain over your flushed face, skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat, and the dress shirt slipping off your shoulders but sticking to your skin at every curve you had. There were reasons he wanted you to himself but dealt with sharing you with another, and this sight was one of them. You could be so good to them both, on all fours, cunt creaming from his actions and Lucifer’s words, and your loyalty to them both on a whole show no matter the implications.

Sharing is caring, and to some degree, you believe it’s a possibility for your relationship with a prideful fallen angel and an egotistical demon. Lucifer lay beneath your trembling form, muttering encouraging praises against your lips when he wasn’t connecting them with his own in heated kisses.

“Mhm, good girl…go on, come for him like you do for me.”

“Feels good, doesn’t it, baby doll..”

“Fuck, you like that hm? Want more? Ask him nicely, sweetheart…”

“Cum for us, my love…”

“You’re doing so well….taking us so well. There you go, baby, all of it just like that…”

Alastor loses track of himself within moments of watching you come undone in his shadows for the first time, hungry to feel the warmth of your cunt for himself as puddles of your cum form on Lucifer’s crotch. You don’t fight him when he replaces his specter's task of fucking you, welcoming the length of his cock with a grateful smile and melodic moan of his name. “Alastor!… nghh yess, please r-right there!..” you yelp into Lucifer’s neck, letting him cradle your head as he talks you through the rise of your next high, “You sound so precious like this, baby. Give em’ what he wants.” His tone is strained, leaning towards a moan as he watches your expressions switch between pleasure and pure wonder. Alastor is fixated on the both of you, ears twitching at the top of his head with every satiated moan you let out and sinful word Lucifer says. His hands find purchase on your hips, gripping them harshly as he snaps his roughly, plowing his cock into your cunt with so much pent aggression your legs refuse to stop shaking. “Oh, fuck…” he groans in the air, tearing his gaze away from your arched back and leaking entrance to try and slow the impending peak of his high. Self-control was something Alastor prided himself in, but it was spiraling from his grasp the longer he fucked you.

Was this what the King of Hell had been enjoying with you?

Milking you of every drop of lust in your body?

Filling you with his overrated seed in the hopes of one-upping him?

If so, Alastor could never blame him. You felt divine, after all, and had no complaints about being used for pleasure.

Sharing is caring, but you forget all about it when Alastor yanks you away from Lucifer, a hand tangled in your head so tight you’re sure he might rip into your scalp if he holds you any tighter. Luckily, the overlord refrains from doing so, opting to groan into your ear as he buries his length to the hilt in your fluttering cunt, spilling ropes of warm cum into your abused womb with no remorse. “Don’t waste a single drop, ma chere. See it as a gift for being so well-behaved,” the radio overlay in his voice is gone, giving way to an accent you couldn’t resist mewling at. Lucifer chuckled, eyes fixed on where Alastor and you were connected, smirking at the mess you’d both made on top of him. “Need a taste of that…” he mumbles more to himself, tone hungry, demanding. You’ve yet to catch your breath before Alastor lets out a short laugh, flinging you forward into Lucifer’s chest without much care as to how weak you still are, “Greedy bastard,” he snickers, slowly pulling out of you with a satisfied grin at your attempt to keep him in. “Now, now, dear. I’ll have another turn with you soon. No need to be selfish..”

Sharing is caring, and oh, how wonderful it is when you’re sat in Alastor’s lap, facing away from him, one leg bent over his while the other rests on Lucifer’s shoulder. The King of Hell kneels before you both, inhaling the scent of your cunt, and smiling at the steady stream of cum drizzling past your folds. He’d done this many times before, a being addicted to the taste of women, of you specifically, but you still shied away from his vulgar eagerness. Your coy reactions only worsened when the notion of Alastor’s cum mixed with your own eventually settling on Lucifer’s tongue came to mind. They hated each other after all, and despite getting along most of the time in your presence, you never imagined this to happen, but neither backed down from the ordeal.

“W-wait Luci, you don’t h-have-“ you start to protest quietly, squirming in Alastor’s hold to avoid Lucifer, but your refusals don’t hold any weight to them.

“Mm, but I want to, love…I can’t help it,” the blonde whined as if he’d die without getting the task done, hands cupping your inner thighs tenderly as he flicked his tongue over your slit and swollen clit. You jolted in Alastor’s grip, biting back a whimper as he mumbled into the crook of your shoulder, “It’s impolite to refuse royalty, so let him have his fill …”

Sharing is caring, and you’re sure Lucifer could survive off eating your pussy alone just fine for the rest of his immortal life. He makes a show of it, diving his tongue in and out of your stretched entrance, moving to suck on your clit every so often before putting both actions into tedious repetition. You couldn’t remain coherent as he explored your insides with expert focus, letting his tongue linger in the spongiest and sweetest spots in your cunt just to draw back and generously spit on your clit. He’d learned your body, when to hit nerves, or when to overwhelm them. As of now, every sense you had was heightened, intensifying when Alastor’s eyes studied your facial expressions, your smile growing an inch more expansive when you rushed out a warning to Lucifer.

“Gonna cum m’ gonna cum…!”

The devil perks up, delving two fingers into you, red irises dilating completely as they hit a tender spot in your cunt immediately, curling against it at a languid pace. He met your gaze with a proud smile on his face, tongue lapping at your clit leisurely, begging you to come undone without hesitation. Alastor curses under his breath, agitated by the fact that your moans are turning him on again, and you feel his cock twitch under your weight.

Sharing is caring, and the euphoric bliss of releasing in Lucifer’s mouth felt divine, bringing small tears to your eyes as he buried his face in your mound, moaning at the taste of you drenching his tongue. Alastor grunts as your hips rock to meet Lucifer's pace, hands creeping up to cup your breasts, kneading the plush flesh mindlessly to avoid bucking his hips against your backside for better friction. He couldn't give his rival the triumph of seeing him worked up at the sight of you cumming so reverently under his touch. You felt powerless between them, shaking in Alastor's arms and pleading for Lucifer to join. One look is all it takes for the two to agree, giving into your minuscule wishes and thoroughly enjoying themselves the remainder of the evening.

Sharing is caring, but if you dare to utter a word of what transpired that night in the presence of others, both will deny the implication of tolerating one another. Although, you find yourself being used by both more often, stuffed full of their cum night after night, and keenly aware of the mutual trust growing between them when you finally collapse into sleep by their sides. They're capable of fair behavior with you, but only in private. Away from the eyes of others who’ll never witness how obsessed The Radio Demon & The King of Hell are with you and you alone.

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It's just a filler post cause I'm getting burnt out with requests! ❤️ I love your ideas, so I'm trying to write them all in my style but as concisely as possible. It's tiring but fun…

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

They may not be able to stand each other but I’ll gladly take them both (not in a fight) ❤️ credits to creator

[antinousletmehit]

Hii, may I request for Hermes x fem! reader?

Where Hermes and reader are very close friends and they sometimes banter playfully with eachother, do things together, etc..

And if anyone who saw them, they might mistake them as a couple. And guess what? Hermes then falls in love in her. Hard.

BUT unfortunately for him, reader likes someone else. (It's Apollo)

Thank youu

୨୧┇Paring: Hermes x reader/Apollo x reader

୨୧┇sorry this took so long to write😓

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

Hermes always had a knack for making things seem effortless. Whether he was weaving through the fluffy clouds of Olympus or charming a crowd with his quick wit, he carried himself with a lighthearted ease that made everyone adore him. You included. He was your best friend, the one constant in a world of divine chaos. Wherever Hermes was, you weren’t far behind, and wherever you went, he followed. It wasn’t uncommon for the other gods to raise an eyebrow at your closeness. “Admit it,” Aphrodite teased one day, a knowing smirk on her lips. “You two are together, aren’t you?” You had laughed, shaking your head. “No, no, we’re just friends. Really.”

Hermes had chuckled along with you, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, a fleeting moment where his smile didn’t quite reach his face. You didn’t notice. How could you, when all your thoughts were consumed by someone else?

Apollo.

The radiant god of the sun had caught your eye long ago, and though you never said it outright, Hermes knew. He saw the way your face lit up whenever Apollo entered the room, the way your voice grew softer, more hesitant, when you spoke to him. It was subtle, but Hermes noticed everything when it came to you.

“Are you going to tell him?” Hermes asked one evening, his voice light but careful. You turned to look at him, surprised. The two of you were sitting by the edge of a golden pool in Olympus, watching the stars twinkle above.

“Tell who what?”

Hermes raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a teasing smile. “Don’t play coy. Apollo. Are you going to tell him you like him?” Your cheeks flush, and you quickly looked away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right,” Hermes said, leaning back on his hands. “Because you’re definitely not swooning over him every time he plays his lyre.” You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Am I that obvious?”

“Only to someone who knows you as well as I do,” he said, his voice softening. You peeked at him through your fingers, giving him a sheepish smile. “Do you think… Do you think I should tell him?”

Hermes’s heart twisted painfully in his chest, but his expression remained steady. He couldn’t let you see how much it hurt to hear you talk about Apollo like that. “I think you should do whatever makes you happy,” he said finally, his voice gentle. You smiled, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “Thanks, Hermes. You always know what to say.”Hermes squeezed your hand in return, but his own smile faltered the moment you turned away.

Over the next few days, Hermes watched from the sidelines as you began to spend more time with Apollo. You were shy around him at first, but Apollo’s natural charm quickly put you at ease. The two of you laughed and talked more than ever, and Hermes…he stayed back, as he always did. The other gods continued to make comments about you and Hermes, assuming you were a couple. Every time, Hermes laughed it off, just as you did, but each assumption felt like a weight pressing down on his chest.

One evening, as Hermes walked through the gardens, he spotted you and Apollo sitting together beneath a laurel tree. Apollo was leaning closer to you, his golden hair glowing in the fading sunlight, and you were smiling in a way Hermes hadn’t seen before. He didn’t need to hear what you were saying to know.

You liked Apollo.

And Apollo liked you back.

Hermes turned away before either of you could notice him. He walked back to his quarters, his heart heavy and his usual light step absent. Sitting alone in the quiet, Hermes let his mask slip for the first time in ages. His shoulders slumped, and he stared down at his hands, his mind replaying every moment he had spent with you. Every laugh, every shared secret, every time you had turned to him for comfort or advice.

He had always been there for you, always done his best to make you smile. And yet, it wasn’t enough.

It had never been enough.

[vampiricstoryteller]

(Isn’t it) Obvious

Hello everyone 👋🏾 this is my first fanfic in a long long time but I love Richter and Annette so much I just had to write something for them. I’m hella rusty but I hope a few of you find some enjoyment with this one.

You can read it on A03 here

All mistakes are my own

Warning: smut, cursing

Annette could admit to herself that she’d thought about kissing Richter more than once. He was a lot of things but unattractive wasn’t one of them. The stupid Belmont boy was gorgeous, with his sapphire eyes and soft brown hair; of course the idea of putting her lips to his has often come to the front of her mind.

There’d been nights when she couldn’t sleep and the snores of everyone around her weren’t their usual soothing noises of companionship; they echoed in her eardrums and reminded her of how unsettled she still felt here. How lonely she was despite being a part of a vampire hunting group. It was maddening.

Until her thoughts inevitably drifted to Richter, as they usually did. Whether he was laying next to her on the cold ground in a bedroll or an entire room away, the mere knowledge that he was close by brought a small bit of peace to her clouded mind.

She would think about laughing at his dumb jokes, fetching water with him from the closest river, sparring with him because he wasn’t afraid to actually throw a punch towards her. He was exciting to her, he made the tips of her fingers and toes tingle. And the space between her thighs ache.

Annette is less willing to admit that she’s been touching herself to thoughts of Richter lately. For the last three nights in a row, her hand has slipped under the fabric of her night clothes and sought out the hidden nub that sends spikes of pleasure crawling up her spine.

It’s embarrassing.

But it’s also one of the best feelings she’s been able to give herself in a long time.

The implications of what that means, however, are always waiting for her when her chest has stopped heaving and there aren’t stars bursting in her eyes anymore. Subconsciously she agonized over the possibility that her growing fondness for Richter Belmont would expose a part of her she never let anyone see before.

It’s why she invites him to come back to Haiti with her, and it’s why she’s currently sat on a bed too small for the two of them, kissing him and doing her best to crawl into his lap.

The kisses started out innocent. At least on Richter’s end. They were a declaration of their feelings for each other. A confirmation that he actually liked her and wasn’t just all talk. But innocent wasn’t what Annette was looking for.

They survived that final fight. She was on her way home with him, he agreed to follow her anywhere. And now she wants to do everything with him.

Richter’s hands on her waist pull her from her thoughts, their lips are still moving together and his tongue seeks permission into her mouth. She grants it to him happily, a small whimper escaping her throat when he squeezes her side and shifts her onto her back.

She likes kissing Richter, a lot. But she likes the pressure of his body weight on top of her even more. Her legs come up, thighs encasing him tightly and her ankles hooking together at the small of his back.

He grunts in surprise, breaking their kiss to stare down her with wide eyes and a new blush on his cheeks.

Distantly, Edouard’s angelic voice echoes off the walls of the small cabin. She sets a reminder on her mental day to day list to do something nice for her friend in the coming days.

“Annette.”

His breath fans across her face, reminding her how close they are. She smiles up at him, twisting her fingers in his hair at the nape of his neck.

“Yes Richter?”

His lips twitch up when she says his name, a blush blossoming across his collarbone and neck; but he’s serious when he asks.

“You’re sure about this?” And then after a moment’s hesitation, “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

She has.

Once.

Back when she’d been enslaved. She’d done it because she’d been curious to know what all the fuss was about and why her friends would risk punishment to for it. Not to mention it was one less thing she’d have to worry about being taken from her.

At the time, it hadn’t been impressive enough for her to put effort into making it happen again. Escaping, revenge and vampire hunting took up too much of her time to worry about shared kisses and affection between bodies.

“Annette?”

She blinks back into focus, meeting Richter’s gaze which has become concerned.

“I have once,” she says with a soft nod. “When I was enslaved.”

Richter frowns and shifts most of his weight to his left hand, the right one cupping her face. His thumb strokes her cheek, the rough pad somehow soothing to her. His skin still feels too warm, but she knows if she brings it up he’ll just insist he’s fine so she leaves it for now.

“That…..wasn’t against your will was it?” Richter asks.

“No!” Annette exclaims, wanting to quell any rising qualms Richter might be having that he could, by proximity, be doing something she doesn’t like or want.

Her hands leave his hair in favor of his shoulders, the muscles are thick underneath her palms and Annette bites back a moan of appreciation.

“It wasn’t by force,” She says firmly looking up onto his blazing blue eyes. “I was lucky. It was with a boy I worked in the fields with, I wanted to get it out of the way so my first time wouldn’t be taken from me.”

Richter’s brow un-furrows a bit, he lowers down enough to kiss her again. This one soft and sweet.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs against her lips.

Annette smiles, kissing him harder and squeezing his hips with her thighs.

“Do not ruin the mood, Belmont.” She teases, satisfied when he laughs and doesn’t press farther about what things had been like for her before they’d met.

“Yes ma’am.” He grins and uses the hand holding her face to tilt her head back, exposing her neck to him.

His lips on her sensitive skin are like heaven, the sharp spike of his teeth nipping after every kiss makes Annette’s hips rock.

She runs a hand down his right arm, to join the one still holding her face. Slowly and purposefully Annette drags the large palm to her shoulder then collarbone, arching her back and sighing when he finally, finally, cups her breast through her top.

Richter squeezes, whether out of instinct or shock that he’s actually touching her Annette can’t be sure but she’s barely able to muffle the shout that tumbles from her mouth. She can feel him smirk against her neck, clearly pleased with the sounds he’s drawing from her.

Annette doesn’t care, each sharp wave of pleasure his hands are giving her is worth putting up with his growing ego.

“Richter.” She moans.

He crowds her against the bed, hand alternating between her breasts while his mouth suckles a bruise into the column of her neck and his hips ground into hers. Sweat gathers at the small of Annette’s back, her abdominal muscles burning as she holds the arch to keep as much of her body pressed against him as she can.

Her skirt is bunched at her hips, wrinkled between her and the bed from her insistent need to be moving with Richter. Despite the clothing between them, she can feel him growing harder every time they come in contact.

Richter’s nimble fingers pluck at the hem of her top questioningly, prompting Annette to nod and let her arms fall back onto the mattress above her head.

An open invitation.

His smile is practically blinding as he sits up just enough to hold his weight on his knees and place both hands on her waist. She stares at him while his thumbs stroke the smooth plains of her stomach, tilting her head curiously when suddenly a blush appears across his cheeks and chest.

“What are you thinking about?” She asks softly.

“How good I’m going to make you feel.” He rumbles, voice serious and low as he flexed his fingers, the tips digging slightly into her ribs.

Before she can think of a witty reply Richter slides his hands up, catching her top on the way and pushing it up over her head. He tugs it free of her arms, dropping the fabric to the floor; the soft thump of it hitting the ground is lost on Annette who can only focus on the sudden intensity of Richter’s gaze.

Heat burns at her cheeks and twists in her lower belly. She’s never been looked at like this before, the lustful adoration in his eyes makes her head spin.

“C-Can I touch you, Annette?”

She huffs, amused by him trying to remain respectful despite her bare breasts being on display and his hard dick straining his pants between her legs.

He’s adorable, but Annette needs more. She’s starting to crave it.

“I hope that’s the plan.” She snickers, hands finding his hair again. Scratching his scalp, she bites her lip. “Otherwise I’ve terribly misread the whole situation.”

Richter rolls his eyes, letting her pull him down into another kiss. His teeth meet her bottom lip and he nips at it playfully; two fingers finding one of her dark pebbled nipples and pinching.

Her eyes flutter shut, a breathless “yes!” racing from her mouth as she tugs on his hair.

It’s all the encouragement Richter needs.

Suddenly his hands are everywhere; kneading her beasts fully, gripping her chin to keep bring her in for sloppy kisses, squeezing her hips and petting her thighs. He bites at her neck, flicks his tongue along her collarbone, working his way down until he can suckle at her tawny brown nipples; lavishing them both with his tongue.

The sensation leaves Annette writhing and panting, she wants to wiggle away from the unrelenting pleasure but she also never wants Richter to stop what he’s doing.

He laps at the skin between her breasts, slicking it to the point it shines in the moonlight illuminating their cabin. At her hips, one of his hands pulls on the waistband of her skirt and Annette immediately lifts up to help him get the garment away from her body.

The oceanic breeze of the night air tickles her exposed flesh, cooling a bit of the humid haze she’d been drifting in. Annette blinks her eyes open, looking down to find Richter’s already staring at her; his pupils blown wide and near black with only a slim blue outer ring around his irises.

She traces his jaw line with her fingers, feeling his teeth clench together with restraint.

He looks hungry.

For nourishment she’s certain only she can provide.

Annette bites her lip hard at the thought, her legs falling open a bit to give him more room. They hold each other’s gaze while his fingers dance at her hip, dragging along the creased apex of her thigh.

He pauses, just before his searching fingers can make contact with the place she wants him most. She thinks he’s about to ask her if she’s okay or if he’s allowed to touch her but the Belmont boy surprises her once again. He simply grins at her, kisses her sternum and slips a finger between her soaking folds.

Annette chokes out a moan, her chest heaving as she sucks in a hard breath and her heels dig into the small of Richter’s back. She’s already embarrassingly wet, his long finger stroking from the bundle of nerves at the top down to her aching core over and over until she’s thrashing against him.

“R-Richter—please!”

She’s too far gone to care that she’s whining nor does she care that above her the object of her obvious distress only chuckles and presses a kiss to her clammy forehead.

“Please what?” He asks, watching her face intently. “Tell me what you want, Annette.”

This time her whine is unintelligible, a garbled mess of pleading that she can’t control. But it’s enough for him to grant her reprieve, the tip of his finger taps her opening—once—twice—and then he pushes the obscenely long digit inside of her and Annette shouts.

Her head falls back onto the mattress, her nails scratching at his sides and she tightens around him, already needing more. Richter growls, his finger stroking with the pace of her rocking hips,

“You’re sucking me right in, baby.” He whispers to her, a secret between them that is theirs only.

She whimpers, the sharpest spike of pleasure yet streaks down her spine and settles in her hips. No one has ever called her that before, there’s never been anyone she wanted to think they could have the privilege.

Though Richter is not like anyone else she’s ever met.

He pushes a second finger into her, a much tighter fit but an even better feeling. Annette grinds her hips into his hand without shame, shivering each time the heel of his palm bumps her slippery clit.

Impatience edges into Annette’s mind, her hands reaching down and pushes at the sleep pants he’d just changed into.

“Ta-Take these off,” she whimpers, one hand managing to shove the left side of his pants down his narrow hips.

Richter huffs out a laugh, slowly pulling his fingers from her and sitting up onto his knees. The movement forces her legs to fall open on either side of him, leaving her feeling exposed in a whole new way. Annette’s face burns and instinctively she tries to draw her knees together.

“Well now, that won’t do.” Richter says casually as he shoves his pants down his thighs before kicking them off onto the floor.

He hooks a hand under the crook of her left knee and tugs it out to the side, opening her back up to him.

“You’re beautiful, Annette.” He says sincerely, licking his lips as he settles back between her thighs. “Don’t ever hide from me.”

This time without his pants to keep him trapped against his own leg, his dick is hot and heavy dragging against her inner thigh. Annette slips one hand between them, her slender fingers wrapping around his shaft experimentally.

It’s Richter’s turn to shout, hips jerking when her thumb swipes at the pre cum leaking from his tip and smears it all over the head. Stroking him and twisting her hand at the same time, Annette works him until he’s painfully hard and throbbing in her hand.

She lifts her hips, hoping to guide him to the place she needs him to fill.

“Annette, baby, wait—.”

She smirks up at him, though her hand does go still.

“You have done this before right?” She teases, chuckling at the affronted look he gives her.

“I’m a Belmont, of course I have.” He grins for a moment then says a bit breathlessly. “It’s just never been with someone I cared this much about.”

One of his hands grips her side, the thumb stretching out to her belly button.

“I want this to be good for you, you deserve to feel good.” He tilts his head, eyes looking her entire body over. “You’re so small, I don’t want to hurt you.”

Annette isn’t expecting him to be that honest, especially not now when they’re moments away from their first becoming one. Another emotion spreads through her, not lust and not impatience but a new one that she’s not sure she’s ever felt before.

It’s in this moment that Annette realizes, she loves him.

She loved Richter Belmont, so much that her soul feels ablaze. She wants to scream from the bow of the ship up to the heavens that she has finally fallen in love. And it feels exactly the way her mother told her it would.

Safe.

Exciting.

Like home.

He is her home and she never wants to leave or be without him.

“Richter.” Her voice is soft and lightly. “I know you’d never hurt me, I trust you.”

She releases the grip she has on his, from what she can see, very pretty dick and plants that hand on his chest while the other cards through his soft hair.

“I want to do this with you, I want to feel good with you.” She says firmly. “Do you want to feel good with me?”

Richter nods, desperation filling the lines of his face as he kisses her cheeks, her nose, her chin and then finally slanted his lips over hers.

This kiss is different. His lips devour hers, nipping at her bottom one in a way that twists her hips and curls her toes. The passion he’s pouring into her feels different, it’s a promise, a dedication. To her. To them. To whatever they’re about to build together.

When Richter breaks for air, Annette lets her eyes flutter open and sucks in a sharp breath at the look of pure adoration in his eyes. If she didn’t know better, she would think she created the moon, the stars and the sky.

“I only want you,” he whispers into her mouth, lips tickling hers with the movement of each word. ��In this life and the next and the one after. I want to be with you forever Annette.”

She smiles, “Good, because I really need you inside of me right now.”

Richter nods, kissing her again and adjusting their bodies so he can reach down between them. Supporting most of his weight on his forearm near Annette’s head, his fingers glide through her slick for a moment, collecting some of it to spread around the fat mushroom head before he takes hold of himself and lines the tip up, nestling it at her sopping wet opening.

Annette’s eyes slam shut and she pulls back to choke out a moan at the feeling just the tip has ignited inside of her. Above her, Richter stills and she thinks she might sob if he starts to move away.

Her hands fly up to the space where his shoulders and neck meet, the column thick between her hands.

“No Richter, don’t stop.” She wiggles her hips in an attempt to take him deeper, but his hand comes to rest over her lower stomach; effectively holding her in place with ease.

“Annette,” his breathing is labored, her name sounding rough in his throat. “Open your eyes.”

Above her head, his fingers twirl some of her individual locs and stroke at her scalp; Annette can’t help but to push her head up into his touch as she blinks up at him.

She’s never seen Richter look at anyone or anything the way he’s staring down at her now. His sapphire eyes are burning into her very soul, she is the sun and he is ready to pray to her for the rest of his life.

Annette licks her lips, pleased that his eyes tick down and follow the movement of her tongue, then says.

“If you stop now, Belmont, I will never forgive you.”

He laughs breathlessly, nodding. “I wouldn’t forgive me if I stopped right now either.” His finger tips massage her scalp, finding space in the new growth to really put pressure down and ground her.

Annette keens up into the feeling, a pretty groan of appreciation on her tongue.

His hand holding her still at the hips smoothes back around to the outer side of her thigh, gripping the flesh. Richter ducks his head, kissing her and holding her gaze as he murmurs into her mouth,

“Take a deep breath, baby.”

She does as he says without a second thought, gulping for air that he’s breathing into her. Richter smiles, rocking his hips forward and in the same motion, tugs her down onto his shaft slowly.

The feeling is delicious.

The stretch of his dick sliding into her cunt is exquisite, curling her toes and exploding stars in her vision. She’s barely aware of how her nails take down his neck and over his chest, leaving trails of red lines on his pale skin.

“R-Richter.”

He groans in response, his eyes closed and the tip of his tongue pressing into his top lip in concentration. Annette’s sure he’s never looked more beautiful than he does now. She clenches around him when he finally bottoms out, his hips meeting the back of her thighs.

“Fu—Fuck.”

Richter’s thrust start out tentative, his hips rolling experimentally and Annette finds herself lifting her own hips to meet him. Her arms wrap around his neck, holding him down so their chests are pressed together tightly. She rests her cheek against his and Annette darts her tongue out to lick at his ear.

“Please go faster, Richter.” She whines, digging her heels into his ass. “Please!”

Now confident, his hips pick up speed and the hand on her meaty thigh squeezes even tighter. Annette’s spine tingles at the thought of there being finger shaped bruises under her clothing tomorrow.

She clings to Richter as if he is her only life force, right now it feels like he is. The steady drag and pull of him inside her threatens to drive her insane, but Annette is happy to go there if it means keeping this feeling with him alive.

Richter sits back suddenly, onto his knees and the hand that was buried in her hair finds new purchase on her unattended thigh. He holds her open, his thrusts deep, hard and powerful; jerking her body back and forth along the bed.

“Annette,” he growls out, grunting in effort to not lose his rhythm. “You feel, so—so fucking good, squeezing me so tight.”

She nearly arched completely off the bed, his words stroking a very specific part of her brain. Digging her nails into the well carved muscles of his stomach, Annette closes her eyes and loses herself in the sensations.

“Richter!” She pants, eyes rolling in her head. “Don’t stop, please!”

“I won’t, baby.” He promises. “I’ll never stop.”

One hand leaves her thigh, his thumb finding her now puffy clit and strums it with intent, his hips keeping pace as he pounds into Annette.

She chants his name like a pray, one for every time his cock rams so deep inside of her she would swear she could feel him in her stomach. There’s a coil there, curling tighter towards her spine and Annette clamps around Richter in the hopes he can tap the right button that’ll give her what she wants.

He twists his hips down on the next few thrusts and Annette bites into his neck to muffle her scream as she explodes. She goes momentarily deaf, her body and cunt spasming while Richter works her through the life changing pleasure thats rippling through her entire body.

Every muscle she has is taunt and for a split moment Annette thinks his thrusts are going to snap her in half. And she would welcome that sensation with open arms.

Richter’s lips on hers brings her hearing back, the bed beneath them creaks steadily and their skin clapping together bounces off the walls. He licks inside of her mouth, his breath hot and ragged as he chases after the completion she just reached.

Annette holds him tighter, whimpering and mewling at a pitch she knows will root in his brain. Richter moans, losing the rhythm and his thrusts becoming erratic.

“Richter—“

He nudges her head to the side, sweat from his brow smearing against her temple.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, baby.” He hisses, teeth clenched and his jaw strained, “I love you, Annette, I love you.”

Their hips meet hard three more times, the force jarring hiccup like moans out of her throat but Annette only care about riding out the spikes of unmeasurable pleasure that zip up and down her body.

Richter shudders above her, a roar erupting from his throat as he grinds into her with every last bit of strength he has. Annette whimpers, her face heating at the feeling of Richter’s cum flooding her with warm from the inside.

She watched him with half lidded eyes and massaging at the bite mark shes left in his skin. He slowly lowers down to rest on his elbows and hover over her, his blue eyes blinking open to look hazily down at her.

“A-Are you o-okay?” He asks panting.

She nods, offering him a smile as they both let their chests heave together;

“I’m great.” Annette confirms, lifting her head and kissing him sweetly. “Are you?”

Richter laughs, his eyes scanning her face a few times. “I think I had just had the best sex of my life.”

She bites her lip to keep her laughter contained. “Thats high praise indeed coming from you, Belmont.”

“It is, isn’t it?” He teases, kissing her cheek before he gently tilts her head by her chin and connects their lips again.

They only pull apart when Richter’s weight begins to numb Annette’s hips and torso, both of them shivering when he shuffles back and slips out of her completely.

Using the edge of the blanket hanging off the bed, Richter gently wipes away the mess he’s made between her thighs; the movement gently and caring.

They settle in the bed facing each other. The steady rock of the ocean and the waves crashing together lulls the two lovers into a comfortable silence.

Her fingers thread together at the nape of his neck, arms bent so he’s pulled close. His massive hands holding her waist, the weight of them on her more comforting to Annette than she ever thought possible.

Richter kisses her, exhaustion starting to sag his body into the mattress but his eyes remain open. She strokes his head with her thumbs, smiling at him when it’s clear he intends to fall asleep staring at her.

“So,” she whispers, seconds before they drifts off completely. “You love me, do you?”

His lips twitch up into a smile. Squeezing her sides, he nods sleepily. “Wasn’t it obvious?” He mumbles, kissing the tip of her nose. “I’m all yours.”

The End

🫣 hope y’all liked it, pls like and reblog if you did ❤️

[luv4slts]

Corruption

- neuvillette x fem!reader ˖⋆࿐໋₊  

tags: dubcon, bimbofication, breeding, praise kink, degrading kink, corruption, abuse of power, mention of crimes such as murder. wc: 1.7k — this is my first ever fanfic so it's not the best but i hope you enjoy it anyways <3

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

There were strange cases of murders happening throughout the capital of Fontaine, all very eerily similar to one another. You never intended to be caught but even a small mistake can lead to disaster. Being caught wasn't even a thought that was acknowledged in your mind. You thought no one could ever catch you. You had been so meticulous in how you went about the murders. And yet, a miscalculation did occur. You loved thinking of yourself as a brilliant mind. Maybe in another life you could’ve been the top student at the Akademiya in Sumeru, but that was too tedious for you.

“Ms. L/n, you are currently being sat for a trial so I would suggest you stop dozing off.” said the man in the golden chair

“I’m sorry, your honor.” you reply with a hint of snideness

You hated him. He was the most pretentious man you had ever met. The man in question was the Chief of Justice of Fontaine, Neuvillette. He was the man in charge of ruling decisions that concerned Justice, which Fontaine was the land of. Anyone in charge of that power would only be second to the Archon.

“Courts adjourned. It will be held again tomorrow at noon.” he declares to everyone in the court

Finally, there was nothing you hated more than this boring affair. You knew that the odds weren’t very good against you so in the end you would probably be put to death anyways. Or given life imprisonment without parole. The only thing that could save you was if somehow the Archon herself ruled a decision over the case in your favor but that would never happen. You gather your things and start leaving the court, following your lawyer.

“Ms. L/n, you will not be leaving yet. I need you to come with me to my office.” he said stoically while collecting his documents.

“Of course, your honor. What would be the reason for this?”

“I just need to have a talk with you, that’s all. Nothing will be used against you so please do not fret about such things.”

He starts walking towards the door and you follow him closely. After a few minutes, you finally reach his office. You take a seat on the couch that’s in front of his desk. His room had an air of luxury and power to it. Any person with keen eyes would be able to recognize that this room belongs to someone of high esteem.

You snap out of your thoughts, “What did you want to talk to me about, sir?”

He sits on his chair, looking out the window behind him.

“I know that the odds aren’t very good against you in this case.”

Thanks for stating the obvious you think to yourself.

“And so, I would like to offer you an arrangement. Something that I think would be beneficial for the both of us.”

“What would this arrangement you speak of entail?” you’re confused but enticed at the offer

“Hmm…” he trails off for a bit before speaking again, “I would get something that I want and you receive freedom. Does that interest you?”

“Yes, it does. What might you want from me though?”

He stands from his chair, slowly walking behind you. You feel his slender hands as they rest on your shoulders.

“You don’t need to worry about that, all I need is your agreement.” you can feel his hot breath

You don’t have any other options so this wouldn’t hurt, you think to yourself.

“I agree, then.”

“Wonderful.”

He slowly starts trailing his right hand down to your necklace, playing with it. He then starts placing kisses all over your neck while his hand starts going down further to the buttons of your shirt. He bites on your neck and you let out a yelp in surprise.

You can feel a smile form on his lips against your skin. He lets out a low chuckle and starts circling the spot with his tongue where he bit you before sucking on it. The sensations start building up and your breath hitches. This wasn't exactly what you had in mind but you don't protest.

His hand finishes unbuttoning your shirt and you’re left exposed in your bra.

He walks in front of you.

"Such a pretty girl..." he murmurs while putting his hand under your chin and rubbing his thumb over your lips

The heat between your thighs starts growing by each passing second. You take his thumb into your mouth before starting to slowly suck on it, moving your tongue in swirls around it.

"So needy." he purrs. He leans down towards you before clashing his lips into yours, slipping his tongue inside.

You let out a small moan into his mouth and he can feel his cock twitch in his pants.

As he continues to explore you mouth, he effortlessly undoes your bra. Your nipples harden as they hit the cool air.

He pulls away and a string of saliva is left that connects both of your lips before breaking as he sets his sights on your nipples. He slowly starts sucking on them, you roll your head back into the couch and writhe as the heat starts pooling in your underwear.

"More, please." you say quietly

"More? Use your words, tell me what you want." he teased

"Please pleasure me, sir." you plead and your face grows red

As soon as he hears your cries, he begins to slide his fingers down your aching body. Making sure to take his time to get more of a reaction out of you. Finally, he reaches the waist band and slides your pants off of your body. He brings his fingers over your underwear, noticing the wet pool on them.

"Do you want my fingers?" he asks while tracing the pool of wetness

"Yes, please" you whisper while biting back a moan

He hums while taking your panties off of you, the last piece of clothing on your body. He lets his fingers explore your folds, gathering the wetness on his fingers before bringing them to his mouth and sucking on them. Keeping his eyes on yours as he does so. You subtly arch your back, needy for more.

He chuckles before letting his fingers rub small circles on your sensitive spot. In a quick thrust, he pushes two fingers into your cunt. He curls the fingers and watches for your reaction. You let out breathy moans as they start filling the room together with the thrusts of his fingers inside your dripping cunt.

"F-fuck!" you cry out

He slams his lips into yours, "Quiet down, you don't want others to know that you're whoring yourself out to the Chief Justice, do you?"

You whimper

"Or.. do you want everyone to know? Is that it?"

You're too dumb to let out anything intelligible, letting out a whine instead.

"Mmm, how about I just breed you and make you mine instead? Then you can do whatever you want without repercussions. Do you want that?" he cooes while setting an even more brutal pace with his slender fingers

"Mmnh- yes, sir." you moan out, rolling your hips and becoming even needier than before as you feel your cunt clenching around his fingers and the climax coming closer.

Then, suddenly, he brings his fingers out and you whimper at the loss of them.

You then notice him taking his pants off. His erection is tight against his underwear. He lets it out and your eyes stay on it as you notice the girth of it.

"Spread your legs, mon chéri." he says lowly

You spread your legs, desperate for the length inside you. He teases your slit with his tip. Rubbing it slowly in circles.

Before you can react, he plunges his length into you. He sets a merciless rhythm and keeps a confident pace as he thrusts into you.

"Too much-" you sob out and he starts going faster

"No, no, my love. You're doing so well."

He brings his fingers to your mouth and you instinctively start sucking on them.

"You look so pretty under me." he purrs before letting out a low groan

He continues stretching out your swollen cunt. The sound of your bodies clashing continues to fill the room and you're sure that everyone knows what's happening inside.

"Don't hold back, I want to hear you." he says shakily and you can feel his pace starting to become more frenzied

You wrap your legs around him and let our strangled noises.

"Please. Mmnh-"

His thrusts become more desperate. He lets out pants but tries to cover them by sucking in sharp breaths to try and remain composed.

"Fuck" he groans before giving one more powerful thrust and emptying himself inside of you

Your walls tighten at his length and your eyes roll back as waves of pleasure spread through your body.

He sloppily kisses you while both of you ride out of the high. He takes it out of you and you whimper as you lose the filling sensation.

Immediately he presses your legs together, "Don't make it go to waste. I need to impregnate you after all, darling." he mutters

You feel your cheeks burning and look away towards the wall. You notice yourself in the mirror and how disheveled you look.

"I have important things to go over so I would suggest you start dressing up."

"Yes, I'm sorry." you reply quietly

You put your clothes back on while he's organizing his documents.

He notices you looking at him, he curls his fingers at you. You come over to him and he puts a piece of hair behind your ear before whispering into it, "I'll do everything that needs to be done when it comes to your case so don't concern yourself with that anymore."

He stops before continuing, "However, I would like you to start working for me. I need an assistant and.. I don't think I got enough of you just from today as it was quite rushed."

He looks into you before kissing you slowly.

"I would be happy to work for such an esteemed person. sir."

"Excellent. Then, I expect to see you next week so you can get started. You may leave now." he instructs

"Have a good day, sir."

You leave, pleased at what occurred today. Thinking to yourself that perhaps it wasn't such a boring affair after all.

[moraxine]

Inevitable [Gojo Satoru]

pairing: gojo satoru x reader

words: 1.3k

summary: you and satoru fall for the oldest trick in the book.

It’s a typical morning at Jujutsu High, the sun casting its warm hues across the campus as students roam the premises, training or studying. Nobara, Megumi, and Yuji are together, heads pressed close as they discuss their latest idea—Operation: Set Up Gojo and y/n.

"You guys know they totally like each other, right?" Nobara says, arms crossed. "I mean, come on, it's obvious. They keep sneaking glances at each other, the tension is unreal."

Megumi raises an eyebrow. "If it's so obvious, why haven’t they done anything about it?"

"Because they're both hopeless," Yuji chimes in with a grin. "Especially y/n-sensei. She's so shy when it comes to Gojo-sensei."

Nobara leans forward, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "Exactly. And that’s where we come in. We need to give them a little... push. Maybe force them to confront their feelings, you know?”

Megumi sighs, accepting the fact that he has to take part in his friends’ stupidly mischievous schemes once again. “What are you thinking?

"Simple," she replies, cracking her knuckles. "We lock them up somewhere and just let the magic happen."

Later on the same day, you’ve just finished grading papers, ready to leave your office, when you receive a text from Yuji.

Hey, y/n sensei! Could you meet me in the old storage room near the gym? I really need your help with something super important!

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. Other than the fact that this text is free of spelling mistakes, the request itself is quite strange. However, since your relationship with your students has been nothing but great, you put trust in them—as much as an adult can, anyway—and Yuji is no exception.

Thus, you grab your coat and make your way to the storage room. Truth be told, it’s rarely used and a bit dusty, which raises a lot of questions in your head as to why Yuji would need you there, but then you remember that it’s also tucked away enough for privacy. As you approach, you notice the door slightly ajar.

"Yuji?" you call out as you step inside.

No longer than ten seconds after you’re in, the door slams shut behind you, making you jump in terror. You whirl around, heart racing. Your hand reaches for the handle but the desperate attempt is futile.

What the actual fu-

“Oh, it’s just you.”

A helpless scream leaves your throat as you turn all the other way around and find yourself staring at the one and only Satoru Gojo, the man who’s been occupying way too much space in your thoughts lately.

Gojo seems composed when he offers you his signature smirk, leaning casually against the wall, his blindfold pulled up so his mesmerising blue eyes are visible. "I was expecting a student ambush or something."

"Yeah, well... same here, kinda,” you mutter, as you try to control your breathing. After a few moments, reality hits and your cheeks heat up as you realise you’re completely alone with him in a—not so very comfortable—space. "Did they trick you into coming here too?"

He nods. "I got a text from Megumi saying something about needing immediate help. Guess we're both suckers."

You cross your arms and sigh, slightly relieved that at least you aren’t a victim of some really serious prank. You glance at the door one last time. "Well, it's locked now, so I guess we're stuck."

There is an awkward silence for a few moments. The tension between you two has always been evident, but neither of you ever made a move to address it. You often find yourself stammering around Gojo, unable to handle the teasing words or the way his eyes linger on you a little too long sometimes.

Gojo, on the other hand, despite his confident front, is surprisingly shy when it comes to you. Sure, he makes his usual sarcastic comments and tries to act like all is fine, but deep down, he’s always been afraid of saying the wrong thing and accidentally hurting you.

"So,” you start, scratching the back of your neck awkwardly, “you think this is some kind of setup?"

He chuckles, walking closer to you. "Oh, absolutely. Our adorable students are trying to play matchmaker. I should’ve known when I saw Yuji smiling like a fool earlier."

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore how close he’s standing now. "Well, it's not going to work. We’re professionals."

"Sure, because professionals definitely get trapped in storage rooms," Gojo quips, flashing you a grin. "Besides, I think they just wanted to speed up the inevitable."

You blink, feeling your pulse quicken. "Inevitable?"

Acting dumb won’t slow down that inevitable, either.

"You know," he replies with a nonchalant shrug. "Us."

You narrow your eyes, though your heart is now undoubtedly hammering in your chest. "You have a lot of nerve assuming there's an 'us,' Satoru."

He raises an eyebrow, stepping even closer, his tone dripping with playful sarcasm. "Please, y/n, I've seen the way you look at me. You're totally into me."

Your mouth drops open, a mix of embarrassment and irritation bubbling up. Sure, he’s absolutely right, you’re head over heels for your handsome and charismatic coworker, but hell, he makes it sound one-sided when that’s so far from the truth.

“Excuse me? You’re the one who’s always staring at me during meetings. It’s creepy."

"Oh, so you notice me staring," he teases, his grin widening. "Admit it, you like it."

"I do not!" you huff in honest annoyance, cheeks burning. "And even if I did, why would I ever admit it to you? Your ego is already big enough to take up the whole room."

Gojo dramatically places a hand over his heart. "Ouch. You wound me, darling. Here I was, thinking we had a good thing going."

You cross your arms and shoot him a glare. "Yeah, well, you're delusional."

Denial will get you nowhere, you’re well aware, but the fact that Gojo is so cocky about it flips a switch inside you which makes consider whether your should jump him or jump him.

He chuckles as he leans in slightly, his face only inches from yours now. "Am I? Or are you just too shy to admit you like me?"

You swallow hard, refusing to back down. "Like you? Please, you're insufferable."

"Insufferable, huh?" he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave. "Then why haven't you moved away yet?"

Fair point.

Your breath hitches in your throat. Yes, you could have backed up, put some distance between you two, but instead, you’re just rooted in place, caught in the intensity of his gaze. Gojo’s smirk softens.

"You're cute when you're mad, you know that?"

You scoff, though it comes out weaker than intended. "And you're annoying, as always."

He tilts his head, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Maybe, but you like me anyway."

You open your mouth to retort, but before you can form any sort of response, his lips are on yours, cutting you off with a sudden kiss. For a moment, you freeze in shock, but then, instinct takes over, and you kiss him back. His lips are sweet, soft, and despite the teasing and the banter, the kiss is gentle, almost tender. Gojo's hand embraces your waist and slowly pulls you in, while the other rests on your face, and you can’t help but melt under his touch.

When you finally pull away, both of you are slightly breathless, and his usual cocky grin is replaced with a softer smile.

"See?" he whispers. "Told you it was inevitable."

“You're still insufferable."

"As if it doesn’t turn you on," he teases, leaning in for another kiss.

Outside the storage room, Nobara, Yuji, and Megumi exchange their triumphant high-fives.

"Mission accomplished," Nobara whispers.

Yuji nods. “Nicely done, Kugusaki."

Megumi shrugs his shoulders, glad that the whole thing is finally over.

You fell for the oldest trick in the book.

[wherethefireliliesgrow]

Make Me Happy

Huh Yunjin x Reader

GENRE: fluff

TYPE: One Shot, Long Fic

INSPIRED BY: Make Me Happy-WheeIn

"And Zeus, with his mighty thunder in hand, ruled the sky and Olympus," you read, flipping to the next page of the storybook and showcasing the colorful pictures of Zeus.

It was a Saturday morning, and you were immersed in reading stories for the children at the hospital. As a child psychology major, you relished the opportunity to connect with different children each Saturday. Your love for children made spending time with them while earning extra credit a win-win situation.

"Zeus has a wife named Hera, the Queen of Gods," you continued, pointing to the illustrated photo of Hera on her throne.

"Sometimes Zeus made mistakes, like having other friends. Hera didn't like that, but they still ruled together on Mount Olympus."

“Ms. Y/N?” a cute voice squeaked from the circle of kids in front of you. It was a small girl with short blonde hair and thick glasses.

“Yes, Kayla?” you smiled at her.

“What is M-I-S-T-R-E-S-S-E-S?” Kayla squinted, trying to read from the book you were showing. The rest of the kids leaned forward, curious about the illustrations.

“M-I-S-T-R…” The word clicked in your head, and you looked at the little girl in shock. “Where did you learn that word?”

“There,” Kayla pointed at the bottom corner of the book with her small finger.

You quickly turned the book around to check the illustration. There, at the bottom, was a scribble of words written in black marker.

Friends? More like mistresses. LOL

“What the fuck?” you muttered under your breath.

This was one of the children’s books you brought from your department’s lounge, where they keep all materials used in class.

A chorus of oohs broke out around you at the sound of your mild exclamation.

“I mean, what the fuzz?” you hastily changed your choice of words, hoping the hospital staff didn’t hear what you just said. “What the fuzzballs.”

Luckily, the children giggled at that, immediately distracted when a boy named Jake decided to share the story about how he swallowed his cat’s fuzzballs and ended up in the hospital.

The storybook took you longer to finish reading as you made sure to check every page before showing the kids the illustrations. Thankfully, there wasn’t any more writing in the rest of the book. You covered the words with a Post-It before returning it to the lounge.

It happened again after a few weeks. You were reading a Dora the Explorer book to the children, and there it was, in the smack middle of the book, a sentence scribbled in the same scrawly, obnoxiously bolded handwriting.

“Can you find the chocolate tree?” you read before staring at the page in horror.

This chick is blind, FR.

The kids whispered, trying to understand what the handwriting meant.

“C-H-I-C-K…chick!” Carter, a red-haired boy, exclaimed loudly, proud of himself for being able to read it.

“There aren’t any chickens in Dora,” Kayla chastised him, shaking her head as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“There is too,” he huffed, pressing a smudgy finger onto the page. “It says here! C-H-I-C-K. Chick.”

“Well, there’s only the big red hen. No chicks,” Kayla insisted, standing up to grab the book from your hands. The situation was about to get worse in a few seconds as you saw Carter’s face redden in frustration.

“Okay! That’s enough story time for today,” you quickly stood up, snapping the book shut. “Who wants to play Monopoly?”

“ME! ME! ME!” The kids screamed in excitement, forgetting the book altogether. It was a relief that kids forget about things so easily.

You, on the other hand, did not forget about this.

.

.

.

.

“Someone keeps leaving nasty comments in the children's books,” you huffed, dropping the Dora book in front of your best friend, Chaeryeong.

You had found her sitting in front of one of the long tables, peacefully eating her lunch in your department’s lounge. The room was slightly crowded, filled with students doing their projects or chatting with each other before classes.

Narrowing her eyes at your rude entrance, Chaeryeong slowly took off her headphones and dropped her chopsticks.

“No hello beautiful?” she asked, rolling her eyes playfully. “Why are you reading children's books anyway? Are you seven years old or something?”

“I’m reading them for the kids at the hospital,” you said impatiently, flipping open to the page where the messy handwriting was located.

“See? This person keeps writing in these books! The kids keep reading them out!”

“This chick blind, for real?” Chaeryeong snickered after reading it aloud. “Well, this person has a good point. Dora IS blind as fuck.”

You huffed, annoyed at how unserious the raven-haired girl was. But before you could open your mouth, a soft chuckle came from the table next to yours. You turned your head to come face to face with the queen bee and the captain of the volleyball team, Huh Yunjin. She grinned at you as she casually leaned on her elbows, not hiding the fact that she was eavesdropping on your conversation as the rest of her friends were engrossed in another conversation.

“See? Even Yunjin unnie agrees,” Chaeryeong said, slyly bringing Yunjin into the conversation.

She knew about your little crush on the captain ever since freshman year. You were just too chicken to strike up a conversation with her, and she was flirty by default, breaking hearts left and right. You just didn’t want to go through the heartbreak, after seeing so many girls crying in the bathroom over her.

Your eyes met Yunjin’s chocolate ones, her bright gaze felt like it was penetrating your soul. People weren’t kidding about her beauty; she really was a sight to look at. You felt your face flush as her gaze never left yours.

“Yeah, she definitely needs to get herself some glasses,” Yunjin pushed her headband a bit higher to keep her orange hair out of her face. “But I support an unbothered queen.”

Yunjin let out a little laugh, her nose scrunching adorably. You couldn’t help but stare, mesmerized by the way her full lips pulled back to show her glistening white teeth.

“Stop being gay,” Chaeryeong whispered, nudging you with her legs to wake you out of the trance.

Huffing in embarrassment and annoyance, you grabbed the Dora book and the rest of your stuff and started to put them into your bag.

“Where are you going?” Chaeryeong asked.

You could see the volleyball captain staring at you from the corner of your eye, and your ears flushed a deeper red.

“I’m going to find someone who understands how serious this situation is,” you ignored the soft snickers coming from both of the girls and turned around to walk out of the lounge.

“Let me know if you found someone who managed to get that chick a pair of glasses,” Chaeryeong called from behind you, laughter in her voice.

.

.

.

.

Cute. That was the first thing Yunjin thought when she saw you during the freshman orientation.

She was there to recruit people into the volleyball team when she noticed you, sitting in the second row, eyes barely open, mouth slightly agape as a few wisps of hair fell into your face when you started to doze off.

Ignoring the knowing looks of her teammates, she intentionally tried to get close to you, all but failing drastically. She ended up recruiting all of your close friends into the volleyball team, all but you. You were definitely not a land animal; that was all that Yunjin could say after watching you fall face-first onto the ground at any given chance.

But at least her efforts weren’t all gone to waste. Having recruited Chaeryeong and your roommate Yeji onto the team meant that she could see you in the bleachers in every game and often see you swing by during practice. Her delusional self convinced her that you were there to see her, but deep down she knew that you never even spared her a second glance.

Like today, you had once again rushed away from her as if she was the most menacing thing in the room, and you wanted nothing but to end the conversation with her. Was she really this scary? Or had you found out about her obsession with you?

“You should try to talk to her more, you know?” Chaeryeong said, raising her eyebrows as she watched her captain gaze after you leaving the room.

“Huh?” Yunjin quickly composed herself, leaning back in her chair. “With who?”

“Y/N. I know you like her.” The raven-haired girl said with a grin. “And I approve.”

“Pfft, I don’t even know her that well.” Yunjin whispered, lowering her voice to make sure her friends didn’t hear this conversation.

“I’m not Dora. I see how you look at her,” Chaeryeong pushed.

“I—I don’t look at her differently.”

Yunjin stood her ground, staring at Chaeryeong, ready to deny everything that came out of the younger girl’s mouth. But Chaeryeong wasn’t intimidated, shrugging nonchalantly as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“She finds your jokes in the books funny. Don’t let her reaction fool you.”

Laughing at Yunjin’s expression, Chaeryeon added, “I know your ugly handwriting.”

With that, the slender girl slipped her bag onto her shoulder and stood up, smiling mischievously at the blushing captain in front of her.

“Can’t believe it took you two years to make a move.”

.

.

.

.

Unconvincingly as it sounded, it really started with boredom.

Yunjin was alone in the student lounge last semester, skipping her least favorite class from Professor “Dead-Eye” Yoo and taking the liberty of finally having some alone time. Yunjin knew she was quite popular, being the captain and all, but sometimes she just wanted to go back to being that shy gamer girl she once was.

The lounge was deserted, and Yunjin flopped onto the sofa she sometimes saw you sitting on in the far-right corner. A couple of bookshelves were situated next to the sofa, completely filled with children’s books.

Scrunching her eyes in confusion about why there were so many books for kids when it was a university department lounge, Yunjin decided not to question it and got to read to kill time. But being attentive was not her strongest trait, so she soon relented to her immaturity and boredom.

Grabbing a sharpie from her bag, she started to leave dumb comments here and there in different books, as if she was the biggest book reviewer in the world. It was an immature and stupid thing to do, she knows. But at least it somehow managed to catch your attention, albeit months later.

God must’ve taken pity on her, watching her suffer through countless blind dates that her friends had arranged her to through her first two years of college, finally giving her the chance to know you better.

It was a few days after her encounter with you at the lounge with Chaeryeong, and she found you scribbling down in a brown notebook on the sofa next to the bookshelves again, this time alone. Deciding to brave herself just once, she took her breath and mustered all of her confidence before making her way towards you and flopped down onto the empty space next to you. She was going to take a chance and take Chaeyeong’s words as advice.

“Hey Y/N.” Yunjin gave you a boyish charming grin, her orange hair tousled perfectly across her leather jacket. She was effortlessly cool, and her sudden close proximity made your face heat up.

“Uh, hi, Yunjin-ssi.” You quickly bowed in respect.

“Please drop the honorifics.” The captain waved her hand, giving you a wink. “Just Yunjin is fine.”

You nodded, eyes flittering from Yunjin’s mesmerizing large ones to the record book in your hand. Unsure of what to do, you decided to awkwardly continue writing.

“What are you doing?” Yunjin slightly leaned towards you, her vanilla perfume invading your senses.

“Um... I-” You shook your head to gather your thoughts, “I’m keeping track of the books that were written on. We would have to replace them.”

“Ahh… the Dora book?”

“Yeah. I also found a new one this week, in the Ice Age books.”

“Really? What did it say?” Yunjin asked, trying to keep her face casual.

“It simply just wrote LIA next to Sid’s face.” You said, biting your lip to hold in your smile.

Yunjin, on the other hand, let out a booming laugh, enjoying the joke way too much.

“I’ll let Lia know she’s famous.” Yunjin said, after taking a few minutes to finally come down from her laughter.

Even though she was the one who wrote it, she still found it funny that her roommate, Lia, looked exactly like Sid the sloth when she was sleeping.

Trying to hide your grin, you said, “It’s not funny. The kids keep reading out the comments.”

The sight of your smiling made Yunjin’s heart soar. She was proud of herself for succeeding in making you smile, despite you not knowing it was her who left the comments. With this affirmation, Yunjin continued to make jokes with you as you talked for a bit. She would do anything to charm you, and she already had a plan hatched in her brain, something to do with your notebook.

“I’ll talk to you later, Y/N.” The captain squeezed your hand as she saw her friends calling for her.

You were disappointed to see her go, but you knew that she had better things to do than talk to you. She was, after all, one of the most popular and busiest students in your major.

“See you.” You muttered, ears red at the feeling of her hand on yours.

The captain walked towards the door, before turning back and raising her hand as a goodbye in a goofy boyish way that made your heart flutter.

.

.

.

.

It happened again, but this time, it was in your record book. Again, in obnoxiously bolded and capitalized letters, the mystery person managed to annoy the hell out of you, but you couldn’t help but find a bit of amusement in them.

HI :)

They had written this in the smack middle of a new page in your notebook, wasting the entire page. Deciding to write back for the first time, you took out your pen and wrote a small line under their loud greeting.

Don’t write in my notebook :)

Thinking this was able to stop the culprit from writing anything else, you shut the book satisfied. Oh, how wrong you were.

The next day, you found a light pink post-it stuck on top of the original page.

BUT I WANT TO BE FRIENDS :(

Annoyed at the culprit, but also at yourself for finding them cute for using a post-it instead of just writing on your book.

No.

You wrote back, slightly hesitating before slamming shut the notebook altogether. Although intrigued and wanting to know who was behind the writing, it was probably best that you don’t encourage them.

“Getting ready to dive deep into another children’s book of yours?” A familiar voice broke you out of your thoughts.

Your heart couldn't help but lurch at the sight of the orange-haired captain smiling at you, her nose scrunched adorably.

“Yeah, any recommendations? I know you love these books.” You teased back, already comfortable with her presence.

Despite not really getting the chance to talk to her that much, she had this aura that made you feel calm and relaxed, as if you could trust her with anything.

“I’ll recommend one only if you read it to me.” Yunjin flirted easily, giving you a charming grin and wink.

Caught off guard at her response, your face turned a slight shade of pink. “I-”

“I’m just kidding, Y/N.” The taller girl laughed at your flustered state. “I used to read ‘The Jungle Book’ to my sister when she was a kid, and she loved it. Maybe the kids at the hospital would love it too.”

"You have a younger sister?” You asked. This was new information to you, but then again, you and Yunjin never really talked before this semester.

“Yeah, we have a really big age difference though. She’s 10 years younger than me.” Yunjin’s eyes glinted at the mention of her sister.

“She must be really happy to have you as a sister.”

“I hope so." Yunjin said with a sad smile, “I haven’t seen her in a couple of years. She’s still in the US with the rest of my family.”

“It must’ve been hard for you to move here all alone.” You hesitantly reached out your hand to squeeze the Captain’s forearm in comfort.

She gave you a grin at your touch, and your heart fluttered at how her eyes seem to twinkle whenever she met yours.

“I’m fine now.” She said, putting her other hand on top of yours. “I made a lot of friends, and also, I got the chance to meet you.”

The flirty queen-bee you knew was back. You cleared your throat to shake off the nerves she managed to give you and pulled back from the trance she pulled you into.

Quickly checking your watch as an excuse to avoid looking into her eyes again, you noticed it was almost five p.m., the time Chaeryeon left for practice.

“Don’t you have practice?” You asked.

“Nope.” Yunjin made a pop sound at the P, which you found adorable. “We have a game next week, so I gave the girls a two-day break.”

“You’ll be watching us, right?” She asked, her eyes hopeful.

You nodded, “I never missed a game. I’m Chaeryeon’s and Yeji’s number one fan.” You grinned, proud of yourself.

Yunjin merely pouted at this, “You should cheer for me sometime. I’m playing too, you know.” She nudged you.

You laughed, trying to shake off your nervousness at her blatant flirting. “You already have a lot of fangirls.”

Yunjin whined, begging, “I don’t know them, but I know you. None of my friends wear my number because they’re on the court with me.“

“I’ll think about it.“ you laughed at her antics. Although she was a year older than you, she managed to act like a little kid sometimes.

After talking (more like flirting on Yunjin’s side) for another while, Yunjin left to go to her part-time job at the diner, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

The feeling she gave you messed up your thoughts, and you were worried that your old crush on her will be reignited.

She was just friendly. She thought of you as a friend. You convinced yourself. You needed to see her as a friend too, before you get your heart broken.

“Maybe I need other friends than Yunjin.“ you muttered to yourself before opening the notebook once more.

No.

You crossed out the word and wrote.

Fine. What’s your name?

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.

Turns out, the person behind the obnoxious block letters was worth talking to. You’ve been texting the mysterious person for the past few weeks, and they managed to entertain you and connect on a deeper level. Never getting a reply to their name, only with a doodle of a snake, you exchanged numbers without knowing each other's names, and it was better like that. To talk about your day anonymously.

You were, however, curious about the person behind the texts and writing. They were considerate, easy to talk to, and extremely funny. You honestly felt that you could be really good friends with them. From books to life goals, you could talk to them about anything and everything.

It was a bit unnerving how someone in your major knew all this about you, but at the same time, you felt that they were someone you could trust, and they felt the same way about you after sharing some of their family problems with you.

You noticed you were developing a sort of attachment to this person, as if they were your soulmate. You found yourself instantly texting back whenever the snake contact popped up on your phone, and when you were texting, you were re-reading your past conversations. They were a great way for you to get Yunjin off your mind, which you found to get harder every time she stopped by to say hello.

“You’re late, Shin.” Chaewon, the co-captain of the volleyball team, chastised a wind-swept Yuna as she slammed open the door to the locker room and hurried to change into her team uniform.

Yuna was the newest addition to the team and was also the cousin of Y/N. (As soon as Yunjin heard of this, she immediately treated Yuna with patience and additional care, not that she liked you or anything, just her showing affection to her juniors).

The volleyball team was getting ready for the final match before the semi-finals. They had an away game with a nearby school, and Yuna, being Yuna, had overslept and missed the bus to the game. Yuna quickly bowed her head in apology, and Chaewon simply patted her head in assurance and ushered everyone to warm up.

“What took you so long?” Yeji asked, “I thought Y/N said she would drive you instead.”

"She did. But it took her half an hour to get ready because she was busy giggling at her phone like a love-sick schoolgirl.” Yuna said, exasperation in her voice.

At that, Chaeryeon, who was standing near the two girls tying her hair, let out a laugh. “Yeah, she’s been doing that pretty often. She must have a crush or something.”

“You think so?” Eunchae, one of the tallest yet youngest players, chimed in, exposing the fact that she was eavesdropping.

“That’s new; I thought she would just end up being a single woman and adopt all of the kids in the hospital.” Yeji mused, happy that her roommate is finally interested in someone. Throughout the two years she lived with you, you seemed to show zero interest in love.

“Must be nice to be liked by unnie.” Eunchae said dreamily, causing the rest of the girls around her to fake gag and give a round of protest.

“Wish it was me instead.”

“Who are you dreaming about dating?” Yunjin suddenly appeared, wrapping her hands around the tall girl. “My baby manchae is off limits until she’s 40.”

The captain had returned from a quick discussion with their coach and had gone into the locker room to usher the girls out for warm-up.

“40? Do you want me to die single?” Eunchae furrowed her brows and pouted, “And besides, we were talking about Y/N unnie’s love life, not mine.“

“Y/N? What about Y/N?” Yunjin tried to ask nonchalantly, leading the girls out of the locker room.

“She has a crush on someone.” Chaeryeon said slyly, paying close attention to Yunjin’s reaction.

The orange-haired girl kept her face composed, but in reality, her heart was beating at the thought of you liking someone, that wasn’t her. A sense of hollowness and jealousy crept into her skin.

“That’s nice. Do you know who?”

The girls shrugged, and Yunjin decided not to push anymore. The way Chaeryeon looked at her was obvious enough to blow off her cover and reveal her affection towards you, and she was not keen on letting others know.

Putting on a smile so bright that could make any of the people in the crowd swoon, Yunjin tried to push back her thoughts and jealousy, waving to the people in the stand as the team entered the court.

Cheers came from all around her, cheering her name every time she sent the ball flying at deadly speed toward her rivals. She wasn’t called the Ace of SNU for nothing. Yet, as she scanned the crowds after every point earned, she hoped you would also be there yelling her name.

“Good game.” Chaeryeon whispered in Yunjin’s ear as they gathered together in a group hug to celebrate another victory.

The crowds were wild around them, chanting their names as they celebrated their ticket to the semi-finals.

“But you better step up your other game before it’s too late, captain.” The raven-haired girl gave Yunjin a grin before sauntering off to the stands, where you were hugging Yeji in celebration.

You were wearing Chaeryeon’s spare uniform, proudly displaying the Lee on your back, while waving a self-made Yeji and Yuna flag. You looked so cute with your hair in a ponytail, with two lines of blue drawn horizontally across your cheeks to represent SNU.

At that moment, Yunjin wished nothing more than to see you wearing her uniform instead.

She better step up her game.

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.

.

.

So…have you ever been in love before?

You were late at night studying in the school library a few days after the game when your phone buzzed, indicating a text message. It was from your mystery friend. 

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion at their sudden question, before typing out a quick response. 

No, I don’t think so. Have you?

As their text bubble indicated typing, a full minute passed before their response came through.

No. 

Followed by another long pause. 

But I wish I did. 

Biting your lip in thought, you were unsure of what to make of this sudden confession from your friend. You were developing an attachment to them, which seemed foolish when you didn't even know what they looked like, let alone their name.

It was truly pathetic; the two people in college for whom you had feelings were the queen bee of the school, with a long line of admirers, and the other was some random faceless stranger about whom you knew everything and nothing.

What got you thinking about this? You typed back. 

A girl. But she has feelings for someone else. 

So your little mystery friend does have someone on their mind. You tried to push down your disappointment and the slight burn of rejection as you replied. 

Have you tried telling her how you feel about her?

No, I would probably scare her off or something. 

I’m sure you won’t. 

It took them another five minutes before they finally responded back. 

What about you? Is there anyone on your mind?

Yunjin, the fiery-haired girl, instantly came to mind. Recent interactions with her had given the impression of growing closeness. She took the time to chat with you in the student lounge, held your bag, walked you back to your dorm after study sessions, and even brought treats from the diner when her shift ended. Though it felt like more to you, the realization struck that she viewed you simply as a friend.

Yeah, this girl. But she sees me as a friend.

Yunjin's heart skipped a beat upon reading your reply. It confirmed Chaeryeon's statement – you had your eyes set on someone else. She pondered the possibilities, considering potential candidates. Was it the charming Shin Ryujin from the softball team? Perhaps someone from the hospital where you volunteered? Or could it be one of your close friends, like Chaeryeon or Yeji? The uncertainty left Yunjin feeling a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

Did you tell them how you feel?

No, I would probably scare them off or something. 

Despite her heartbreak, your text made her smile a bit. There you were again, teasing her by copying her sentence. 

I’m sure you won’t, pretty girl. 

How do you know if I’m pretty or not?

I just do. 

You couldn’t help but blush at their compliment. They always managed to say something earnestly that made your heart flutter, similar to the way Yunjin always seemed to have an effect on you. 

You should take this confidence and confess to the girl you like before it’s too late. What’s there to lose?

You have a valid point…

I’ll work on confessing to them before the end of the year, but only if you be my wingwoman. 

Your wingwoman? How? I don’t know anything about them. 

Just share with me the little things you like as advice. 

Deal. 

So…better start listing. 

Hmm, I’d say start with flowers. 

Oh, and little notes are pretty cute, too. 

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.

.

"The Ultimate Checklist to How to Get That Girl? Seriously?" Chaewon read over Yunjin's shoulder incredulously.

Flushing a deep red, the captain quickly slammed shut her notebook and pushed the short-haired girl away.

"Stop snooping!"

"You know you can just ask her out, right? Y/N." The shorter girl reached over to snatch the book from Yunjin, quickly scanning over the checklists.

Yunjin had managed to devise a checklist incorporating all the things you mentioned in your previous text conversations with her about your preference as her 'wingwoman’. She had compiled recommendations on what someone should do to win over someone's heart, hoping to win over yours. 

"I can't. She likes someone else." Yunjin said defeatedly, her shoulders sagging.

"Who can resist the Huh Yunjin charms? I'm pretty sure everyone would love to date you." Chaewon snorted, amused by how her seemingly always confident friend was so hung up on you. This was a first.

"Not Y/N."

Although teasing her friends was in her DNA, Chaewon couldn't help but feel bad for her friend. Yunjin looked lost (kind of like a kicked puppy, but she wasn't going to say that to her face), and as co-captain of the team, it was a rule that she would need to support their captain whenever they needed help.

"Find, I'll help you." Chaewon sighed, looking at the long list and preparing herself mentally. It was going to be a long few months.

"Let me call the girls for backup."

“Another gift from your secret admirer?” Yeji teased when she saw you enter the shared dorm with a tray of hot coffee.

You had just returned from the library, preparing for your final exams, and found yet another gift waiting in front of your door.

You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, but your ears betrayed you by reddening. “There’s one for you.”

Yeji jumped up in excitement and went straight for the coffee, sighing contentedly as she sipped on it. “I’d just date them already.”

You had been receiving these little gifts for the past few weeks, and it was driving you crazy. Initially sweet, the mystery person never revealed themselves, making you suspicious of everyone. Additionally, you were concerned about how much they were spending on you. Although seemingly insignificant, the little gifts added up.

The first gift was a single rose and a typed note in front of your dorm room, a bit like a ransom note. The note included a cheesy pick-up line that you found endearing, despite yourself. Soon after came cute accessories, a new hair tie, and even a cute hippo plushie. Your admirer seemed to know a lot about you, even the things you lost. 

They gifted you things you had listed out to your mystery friend. Could your admirer and your friend possibly be the same person?

“Oh, by the way, Yunjin and the team are coming over to discuss our strategies for the championship game, is that okay?” Yeji mentioned casually, trying to hide her grin.

Chaewon had called her earlier, letting her in on Yunjin’s huge crush on you and the plan to sweep you off your feet.

Panic filled your eyes as you looked up from your phone. You were still dressed in your "bum outfit," as Yeji would call it, consisting of old sweatpants and an oversized Nike hoodie – definitely not presentable.

“What? When?” You quickly surveyed the room, noticing a small pile of clothes and rushing to stuff them in the laundry basket.

“In about…”

Knock, knock, knock.

“Now.”

At that moment, you pulled your hair out of its messy bun and ran your fingers through it in a rush. Leave it to Yeji to embarrass you in front of Yunjin.

Before Yeji could open the door, it was slammed open, revealing a snow-covered Chaeryeon with her cheshire grin, followed by Chaewon, Lia, Yuna, and Yunjin. Your eyes met hers, and you got lost once again in her warm brown hues.

She looked particularly good today, with her fiery orange hair tucked into a gray woolen hat and dressed in a red leather jacket. She gave you a toothy smile before closing the door behind her.

“Hey, stranger, it’s been a while,” Yunjin said, pulling you into a hug, engulfing you in her sweet lavender perfume. “I missed you.”

You immediately blushed at this, still not used to her flirty nature.

“We had lunch together last Saturday.”

“Yeah, three days is way too long,” she sighed dramatically, her arms still wrapped around your shoulders. Her eyes scanned your features, as if she was trying to memorize every freckle and blemish.

“If you two are done flirting, we would like to start discussing tactics,” Chaewon said, her lips curled into a teasing smile as she saw Yunjin immediately pull her arm off of yours and turn beet red in embarrassment.

“I…” Yunjin muttered, before giving up coming up with an explanation and plopped down onto the sofa.

You busied yourself with schoolwork as the girls squeezed into the makeshift living room and focused on their strategy plan for the upcoming games. You watched them with adoration; it wasn’t often that you saw them together except for their games, and you loved how sweet their dynamic was. Chaewon was the one who kept everyone focused, Lia and Yeji were the encouraging ones, and Yunjin was the planner. She led the gameplays and tactics, ensuring everything was on track. The older girls also babied Yuna and Chaeryeon, making sure they understood everything.

You didn’t know Chaewon and Lia that well; they were Yunjin’s friends. Still, you could tell that they were just as sweet and caring as the captain was. However, you couldn’t help but think of the comment your mystery friend left in the Ice Age book whenever you looked at Lia. She did look a bit like a sloth, but the cutest one ever.

Hence, you decided to text your mystery friend.

Lia does kind of look like a sloth. But cuter. 

As you sent out the text, a small buzz came from the living room. 

Cuter as in your type?

No. But you did her dirty by writing her name next to Sid. 

Another buzz. You furrowed your brows and looked toward the direction of the living room. 

Who IS your type then?

Someone funny, I guess. Goofy but smart. 

Buzz. It felt too coincidental. Your palms started sweating at the thought that you might finally discover who was behind those texts that accompanied you through long nights and motivated you.

Hmm…is there someone like that in our school?

Yeah, there is. 

As soon as you sent out a text, another buzz came from the living room. At that moment, you were convinced that your friend was one of the girls in the room.

Is it the person you mentioned you liked?

You silently leaned forward on your bed to peek at the girls obscured by the sofa, lying on their stomachs in front of a strategy board. You froze at the sight of Yunjin biting her full lip and looking at her phone, engrossed in whatever she was reading. The rest of the girls were talking with each other, none of them looking at their phones. 

Could it possibly be the orange-haired girl all along? The girl you've been texting about was the one receiving your texts. If they were Yunjin, then she would possibly be the one sending you your gifts.

The pounding in your heart was so loud, engulfing you in erratic thumps. You couldn’t even hear the girls talking; all you could focus on was the possibility that Yunjin was the person behind the texts. 

Deciding to leap in faith just this once, you texted back.

Yes. The captain of the volleyball team, do you know her?

Another buzz followed by the screen of Yunjin’s phone was enough to prove that she was indeed the person all along. Eyes scanning through the sentence you sent to her, Yunjin’s brown eyes widened, and she immediately threw her phone to the side, covering her face with her arms. She let out a muffled scream and kicked her legs in excitement, startling the rest of the girls.

You couldn't help but laugh at her adorableness. Putting on your headphones, you pretended to be studying while trying to calm your erratic heart. Muffled shouts and laughter could be heard from the girls, probably picking on their captain.

.

.

.

.

For the first time in her life, it seemed that fate had taken favor in Yunjin. Having dedicated all of her time to school and volleyball, she never had the privilege of starting a relationship with someone. Volleyball itself took up most of her time, with her parents and her personal coach insisting on her becoming the best player in the league and eventually joining the national team of South Korea. She wasn’t unhappy with her life, but she wouldn’t call herself happy.

Sure, her friends set her up on several blind dates, but she never liked them enough to want something more. She was only interested in being the best at volleyball and being the best captain for the girls, nothing more.

That was, until, she met you.

She was enamored by you right from the start, with your shy smile and soft features. She wanted nothing more than to get to know you. After finally getting the chance to talk to you after two years, she had fallen for you, deep. All those late-night talks through text made her understand that you were more than a mere crush, more than any of the girls on those blind dates. The way you viewed the world made her want to become something more to you. She wanted to be included in your world.

Life started to mean more than just volleyball, and she noticed that you made her happy, actually happy. 

She hoped that you would give her the chance to do the same for you. Now, with the revelation that the person she worried so much about you liking was her, she was beyond the moon. She just hoped you wouldn’t be disappointed that she was the one behind the texts.

It was the Saturday after the eventful day, and Yunjin was nervous. She blamed it on the finals game they had tomorrow, but in reality, it was the first time she was alone with you after knowing that you liked her.

After running to you during her lunch break from her shift at the diner two months ago, she had established a weekly routine of getting lunch with you every Saturday. The diner she worked at was near the hospital she volunteered at, so grabbing lunch together before visiting the kids was another highlight of your week.

"Did something happen?" You asked as you sat across the captain.

You had arrived at the booth a while ago, and the captain hadn’t said much but to order. She was fidgeting with the straw of her iced coffee, bending it over repeatedly as she looked at anywhere but you.

"What? No!" Yunjin’s eyes flitted to yours, before quickly looking away again.

"Nothing’s wrong."

"Then how come you’re avoiding me?" You asked, slightly pouting.

Yunjin nearly kissed you on the spot at the sight of you pouting cutely.

She had been refusing to meet your eyes because she knew that the second she did, all defenses would fall, and she would just confess her love to you. It has been like that for the last few days, ever since she knew that you liked her back; she wanted nothing more than to have you in her arms. But she hadn’t thought of a plan on how to ask you out yet; she also had to confess to you that she was the one behind the texts. This scared her, worried that you would hate her for lying to you about not knowing who you were.

"I-I’m not." Yunjin stuttered, still refusing to look at you in the eye.

Before you could reply, the waitress brought over your food. You always got the same thing, blueberry pancakes with scrambled eggs on the side, while Yunjin always had her protein lunch filled with eggs, chicken, and tofu. It didn’t really look good, but Yunjin made sure her body was in the best shape for volleyball.

Today’s meal was slightly different. The waitress had also brought in a plate with two gingerbread cookies, both with cute red buttons and frosty smiles.

"We give out gingerbread cookies to our customers every year around Christmas time," the waitress explained, her eyes twinkling mischievously, "Enjoy!"

Yunjin watched you from the corner of her eyes as you excitedly took a few photos of the cookies.

"Look Yunjinnie, they’re holding hands!"

Yunjin wished she could hold hands with you.

"This one looks more like you." You giggled, moving the plate forward to show her.

The restaurant workers seemingly did not put their heart into decoration because the one you insisted that looked like Yunjin had lopsided eyes and a way out of proportion mouth, so wide that it went higher than the eyes.

"Are you saying I look ugly?" She said, pretending to be offended.

"What? No!" You interjected, blushing a deep red and pulling back the plate to inspect the cookies. "I meant that you always have a big smile like this, meeting your eyes."

That’s because I only smile like this when I’m with you, Yunjin thought.

"Here, try one." You broke the cookies apart and raised one of the cookies towards Yunjin’s face.

"I can’t. I have to stay in shape for tomorrow's game." Yunjin was taken aback at your forwardness. She was normally the one flirting, and you were the shy one. It seems that the roles have reversed today.

"C’mon. Just one bite wouldn’t hurt." You wheedled. "Please?"

Yunjin’s eyes finally met yours. Big mistake.

Your eyes, every so bright, were staring at her pleadingly, with a hint of something that Yunjin couldn't quite put a finger on. Was it affection? Adoration?

Nevertheless, the captain immediately gave in and took a bite of the cookie in your hands. She would always do anything for you.

"It’s…It’s good." Yunjin managed to say, her gaze still locked with yours.

You let out a satisfied grin and brought the same cookie to your lips, pausing slightly before taking a bite.

Yunjin’s brain went into a full system shutdown. YOU JUST ATE THE COOKIE SHE HAD. IT WAS AN INDIRECT KISS. I REPEAT. INDIRECT KISS.

“Mhmmm… It’s so good. Tastes like Christmas.” You said, finally breaking eye contact and looking at the rest of the cookies in front of you.

“It’s almost the end of the year.” You said softly, before looking up again at the flustered girl.

End of the year.

Yunjin’s heart went into rapid speed, and her blood went cold. Could you have possibly known that she was the one texting you? How else would you know the importance of the end of the year to her? She had promised you that she would confess to her crush before the end of the year if only you would become her wingwoman.

Shaking her head slightly to push out the possibility, she tried to forget about her ‘delusions’. You didn’t know. There was no way.

Thankfully, you changed the topic to her games tomorrow, saving her from embarrassing herself.

“Will you be at the game tomorrow?” Yunjin asked as she walked you to the hospital after lunch.

“Of course.” You said, gently holding onto her arm to keep yourself from slipping on the icy roads. (Yunjin’s heart still stuttered whenever you did that).

“I never miss a game, remember?”

“Will you-Will you be cheering for me?” Yunjin asked hesitantly.

“Hmm? I always cheer for you girls, pabo.” You laughed, nudging the taller girl.

“No, I mean,” Yunjin looked at your hands clutching tightly on her arm. Deciding to brave herself for the first time today, she asked, “Will you wear my number?”

She watched as your cheeks turn pink at her words.

“I don’t know…you have quite a lot of fangirls already.” You answered, hitting both of you with déjà vu.

“But none of them are you.” The orange-haired girl stopped walking, gently pulling you around to look at her.

To say you were in deep was an understatement. You had fallen hard for the captain, in love even. Her beauty and confidence were what had drawn you to her at first, but after getting to really know her through those texts, you had started to fall in love with her. Her mind, the way she thought, and her endless patience… she was something that was too good to be true.

“What are you trying to say?” You asked, searching her eyes for any hint of hesitation. You found none, only determination and softness in those honey-brown hues.

“I’m saying…” Yunjin paused, composing herself before she stared back into your eyes, “I like you, Y/N, a lot.”

“And it would be nice if I can take you out on a date.” She continued, her eyes gleaming hopefully.

“But only if you want to.” She hastily added.

You laughed at the last sentence. She was always so considerate, worried that she would be doing something without your consent. And that was what you loved about her.

“I would love to.” You said, before standing on your tiptoes to kiss the tip of her frozen nose. Yunjin froze at the feeling of your soft lips on her skin.

“But only if you win the game tomorrow.”

Yunjin let out a sigh of relief before gently wrapping her arms around your waist, pulling you closer. All those sleepless nights dreaming of you were worth it.

“Easy.”

.

.

.

.

As the captain got ready for bed, a familiar buzz came from her phone. It was from you.

I better see your jersey in front of my door tomorrow, Huh Yunjin.

Yunjin let out a scream, scaring Lia, who was already passed out, and causing her to fall off her own bed.

"What the hell?" Lia groaned from the floor, looking up at her roommate.

"She knows it’s me. And she’s okay with it!" Yunjin said, giggling like a schoolgirl and dancing around. "She likes me back!"

Sighing, Lia slowly dragged herself up from the floor and laid horizontally back on her bed, too tired to crawl back under the covers.

"Go to bed, Yunjin."

Giggling to herself, the captain quickly texted you goodnight, receiving another sweet message from you.

As she went to turn off the lights, she looked at her roommate, sleeping with her mouth open and dressed in her greenish-grey fuzzy pajamas.

Lia did indeed look like a sloth. A cute one.

“Why does Yunjin-unnie have a sunburn?” Eunchae whispered, not so quietly.

“That’s not a sunburn, that’s the glow of love, manchae.” Yeji laughed, patting the taller girl’s head affectionately.

“Love? What?” Eunchae furrowed her brows, clearly out of the loop.

"Someone in the stands is rocking her jersey," Chaeryeon added, grinning mischievously, despite Yunjin shooting her a disapproving look as they continued warming up for the game.

“One-third of the crowd is wearing her number,” Eunchae whined, scanning the crowd again for Yunjin’s possible lover.

You waved shyly to the girls (mostly to Yunjin) as you moved to sit on the bleachers with your friends. You had found a box containing Yunjin’s jersey and a light blue bandana, along with a single rose in front of your dorm room when you woke up in the morning.

You had put on the jersey and decided to tie your hair with the silky bandana, and adding a dash of sparkling highlighter. You wanted to look your best for the captain.

Unable to resist herself, Yunjin made her way towards the railings near the bleachers, ignoring the teasing hoots coming from her members. You walked down a few levels to meet her at the other side of the railing.

“Hi,” she said cutely, her eyes sparkling in happiness as she checked you out. You looked so good in her jersey.

“Hi, Yunjinnie.”

“You look good.” She bit her lip and reached over to hold your hands in hers.

“You better win this game, Yunjin. I’m looking forward to our date.”

“Of course. I play better when I’m in a good mood.” Yunjin leaned over and pressed her lips on your forehead.

“And you make me happy.”

.

.

.

.

“Aw man...” Eunchae said sadly, watching her captain and you cuddling up together. “I wanted to date Y/N-unnie.”

“You’re too young for dating, Hong Eunchae.” The rest of the girls said in unison, before grabbing the maknae away from the scene.

It's a long one!

A bit of fluff for Christmas :)

Thoughts?

[jubburb]

✮⋆˙Toge Inumaki

Safe words Toge uses (All not used)

NOT PROOFREAD, JUST ONE SEXUAL JOKE, EVERYTHING IS ALL FLUFF. I think.

----Salmon (shake), fish flakes (okaka), kelp (konbu), mustard leaf (takana), Salmon roe (Sujiko), caviar (ikura), spicy cod roe (Mentaiko), tuna (tsuna), tuna mayo (tsuna mayo)

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

It would've been better if someone as lively as you weren't in Toge's life. It's been so hard on him ever since you went on that 3 week mission, leaving him all alone, with no one to talk to.

Of course that's an exaggeration. Yuuta and Panda were there talking to him, but it's not the same when the love of his life talks to him.

It's quite the predicament, really. He thinks that you don't know about his crush on you, but you know that he has a crush on you and he doesn't know that you know. (Good lord-) Toge didn't really hide it well, making it obvious with how much more eye contact he made with you. Who wouldn't pick up on the hints?

As the reasonable person you are, you decided to wait. If he doesn't say anything, you won't say anything about it either. Yuji says otherwise, he wants you to blast Toge's love life on speaker. He's just a little excited, that's all.

Though it also helps you, since you're not too sure how you can reciprocate the feeling back, when you haven't done that much romance in your life yet. It's an odd feeling, you being the target of someone's love, and not it being the other way around. It's hard to think about it when you yourself haven't experienced romantic love. (But it's not hard to know when someone likes you, given they act all weird around the said person)

---

"Ikura." He grumbled, expressing his sadness, kicking a pebble while walking.

It's been 2 and a half weeks, your mission coming to an end in a few days. Toge doesn't know what to do for the rest of those few days, he doesn't even know how he survived the past 2 weeks.

He walked back to his respective room, mind blank as he threw himself onto his bed. Toge didn't have that many missions this morning, but he did feel a little drowsy.

He tried to fight off the sleepiness, he doesn't know why, but he did so.

Toge- slept. He failed the battle against his eyes, sleep weighing down on his eyelids. Although, Toge found it weird when it felt like the best nap he had gotten when he woke up. His hair was oddly well brushed too.

At first, his vision was a little blurry, but as he rubbed it, he saw a silhouette of a face, looking at him.

He jolted up, lowering his scarf as he was ready to use his curse technique, but then he saw your face. Toge lit up to the sight of you, immediately hugging you.

"Toge! Surprised to see me? I got back a little early from the mission!"

Toge nodded and rubbed your back, “Konbu” he whispered, feeling your shoulder blades. He's an odd guy, really. He might've done that to try and tickle you.

"Hello to you too. I know you definitely missed me. I actually thought my mission would end a week early but the curse kept on duplicating and it was..tiring. Anyway, you doing good?”

“Shake,” he nodded from your shoulder. Toge hugged you more tightly, but what can you do? You were away for so long, it's understandable for him to get touchy feely.

"I got us some snacks from my mission, you wanna eat it?" You patted his back, trying to pull away from him. Toge kept his hands wrapped around you, only to release the hug and type out something.

“U owe me. You left me here for too long :(“

You patted his shoulder, smiling at his response, “Of course, what do you want?”

Toge pondered for a second, before immediately typing on his phone.

“Gibe me s kuss”

“Huh?” You squinted, looking at his phone.

Toge pulled his phone back and corrected his mistakes.

“Give me a kiss”

You stopped, looking him in the eyes. He’s become bolder, hasn’t he? First it was hugs, then cuddles, now kisses. At this point, who wouldn’t think that you guys aren’t dating?

"Who's the submissive one now?" You snickered, shaking him from his shoulder. Toge rolled his eyes, typing again as he grunts from your shakes.

"You can dominate me..in bed ;)"

He smiled, you can see it even if his scarf was up.

"Please, I do not want to see you type that out again. You're so cringe Toge."

The both of you were silent, then a sudden burst of laughter cut the silence. It was fun. The comfort both of you got from each other was evident. You shook Toge as the giggles and snorts continued, but Toge was somewhat serious about the previous text before that.

He loved the way you laugh. It was a wonderful sound to him. He always appreciates that he could get a good laugh out of you.

When it started getting silent, he grabbed your hand, still smiling widely.

"Tuna tuna."

"Yeah?" You asked also smiling, reciprocating the gesture. Toge hesitantly intertwined his fingers with yours, lifting up his scarf and looking away.

You giggled a little, getting closer to his face. You noticed his ears turning into a soft pink. "He's so adorable."

Toge dragged his eyes to look at you, trying to maintain eye contact. He made a little finger heart to you, still being a little shy.

"I love you too Toge," you bumped foreheads with him gently, leaning in to his cheek to give a kiss.

Toge felt it. It was warm. He wished it was planted on his lips instead, but he could only hope for more.

"Shake," he purses, but you couldn't see it, his scarf was in the way. He hadn't noticed that you told him a genuine I love you yet, so you repeated it.

"Toge, I love you. Would you do me an honor of being my boyfriend?"

His eyes widened, face snapped to look at you more clearly. Toge hugged you again, this time pushing you into the bed and wrapping his legs around you. He didn't stop hugging you, still surprised from the sudden confession. But he should've expected it.

You laid there for a while, Toge hugging you from beside. Who would've known? He then pulled out his phone in the hug, typing them deleting, as if he were unsure of what to say. He finally managed to make a sentence.

"Can you do the thing again where you focused your cursed energy in your ears to deflect commands from me? Just this once please?"

He showed you the typed out sentence, you wondered why he had to hesitate a little.

"Sure, give me a moment.."

As cursed energy flowed to your ear, you were ready.

Toge took a deep breath, looking at you in the eyes once again and saying,

"I love you"

Your breath hitched, you never expected it to be this emotional. Toge is never this serious before. And he just showed how much he liked you.

You were about to cry, but you pulled into his hug. Finding more comfort and warmth in his arms.

"I always loved your hugs Toge. I hope we can continue hugging for as long as we are able to."

Toge Inumaki nodded, shifting his position to get a better cuddle from you as he big spooned you.

____

Wasn't it nice to know your crush had also liked you too?

____

A convo with the other creator of this account

"You can dominate me in bed💀" 💀💀💀 - signed by c

Its so sigma skibidi toilet rizz🤧 EAWWW not doing that again👹

-Jღ

[otakusheep15]

Flufftober Day 28 - Protect

Content includes: Trein and reader, platonic (father child duo), Crowley being horrible as usual, protective Trein

Ever since you started his class, Trein has been keeping an eye on you. You and your friends are naturally known to cause trouble, so he has to make sure you aren’t disrupting his class.

However, the more he watched over you, the more fond he became.

Trein has a soft spot for children. It’s why he became a teacher after all.

You remind him a lot of his daughters, strong and kind and caring. You’re surprisingly good at taking care of your friends, at least attempting to keep them out of trouble when you can. It’s not always successful, but it’s the thought that counts.

It’s rare that he has a favorite in one of his classes. Usually, he cares for all his students equally, but you’re a special student in his eyes.

Because of this, Trein finds himself being much more lenient with you. When he’s grading papers, he’s always more forgiving when you make small mistakes, as long as it’s nothing major. In class, he never scolds you if he sees you dozing off, knowing you probably had a long night handling some issue with a fellow student.

And, most importantly, Trein always seems to be the first to defend you whenever he senses trouble.

Today was yet another faculty meeting. Crowley was going on and on about something no one really cared about. Crewel was busy grading papers, Vargas was outlining a workout routine for the Spelldrive club, and Sam wasn’t even present.

Trein tried to listen, knowing they would all get an earful from Crowley if no one was paying attention.

Then, Crowley mentions you, and that certainly gets Trein’s attention. Crowley goes on to give a long list of various responsibilities he plans on passing onto you, responsibilities that should be his to deal with. He gives some excuse about needing to “free up his own schedule for more important matters” and how “this will be a good learning experience for you”, but Trein isn’t buying it.

He, as well of the rest of the staff, knew how much Crowley pushed onto you. None of them like it, but it’s impossible to convince Crowley to back off once he’s set his mind on something.

Trein continues to listen, upset at how much Crowley is planning on giving you. You’ve already fallen asleep in class twice this week, and he knows you can’t possibly handle anymore stress.

Eventually, he’s had enough, and he stands up glaring at Crowley. This grabs the attention of his coworkers, and they all watch in stunned silence as Trein yells at Crowley, calling him every name under the sun as he explains just how tired you are and how you deserve a break.

Crowley gives a weak excuse, and Trein easily dismisses it, continuing to scold him.

It’s understandable how shocked everyone is. Even when he’s upset, Trein is never one to lose his temper under normal circumstances. It’s a bit startling, but there’s no denying that it wasn’t deserved. Everyone knows just how fond he’s become of you, practically treating you like his third child.

When Trein is finished, there’s a few moments of stunned silence as everyone processes what just happened. Then, Crowley looks away, awkwardly coughing as he thinks of what to say. His voice is weak, but he does make some comment about how, since he’s so generous and kind, he supposes he’ll give you a break.

Trein sits back down, feeling a bit embarrassed about his outburst. He can see Crewel smirking out of the corner of his eye, and he knows he’s going to be cornered by him later for a gossip session.

Even so, he doesn’t regret it. He will always protect you if given the chance. You’re the obvious favorite, and he’ll do everything within his power to make sure you’re taken care of while at this school.