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trippinsorrows · 1 day ago

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10 things + part three

authors note: after 87 years of waiting, here is the third and final part to this mini series. def struggled with writing it, as i haven't been in the headspace for it, hence why it hasn't been updated in so long. hope it was worth the wait and not a disappointment. ❤️

words: 5k

warnings: angst

part one + part two

***gif belongs to @dejameflorecer ***

It’s been a week.

A week since an already tumultuous relationship went from bad to worse in a matter of minutes.

Nova isn’t sure if she’s ever cried as much as she has in the past week. Maybe not since the death of her childhood dog, Sadie, when she was twenty-one. But, this kind of grief is something different. Something heavier and devastating.

Something heartbreaking.

A part of her saw it coming. Nova knew it was only a matter of time before things with RJ and Roman reached a boiling point. The tension and animosity seemed like it grew by the day though something that’s actually existed for years.

The same amount of time she’s worked so hard to fix it. To repair what’s clearly broken. But, it’s always come at a cost. The latest expense, however, is unacceptable. On several fronts.

Roman put his hands on RJ.

He put his hands on their son. Their child. An act that resulted in RJ unintentionally hurting his little sister.

Two of her three children were hurt, in different ways, by their own father.

Nova knows Roman would never ever do anything to intentionally hurt any of their kids, but that doesn’t matter in the face of what’s happened.

What’s done is done, and she doesn’t know how to move past it.

If that’s even a possibility.

He’s tried to reach out. Both have. Roman and RJ, but she’s left them both on read for different reasons, only responding with, 'she's fine' with their questions about Bella. Roman hasn’t tried to come home in the past week, and she’s partially grateful, though it breaks her heart just a little when the girls ask about their dad.

When they ask where daddy is.

She has an idea.

Probably staying in the penthouse.

Or, maybe not.

She struggles between caring and not giving a fuck.

And, her son, via Live 360 shows that he’s been staying with Jey. Unsurprising, to say the least.

RJ has always been close with the twins, Jey especially. And given how Jey and Roman are on the outs, it only makes sense his estranged son would find escape with an estranged cousin.

Nova has to have an emergency session with her therapist. It’s not life-threatening, and she reiterates there are no safety concerns. She just knows she needs to talk with someone. But, even that conversation is only slightly as helpful as she would like it to be, because Nova omits a lot. Primarily the part where Roman shoved RJ, and Bella got hurt in the process. Things are already bad enough. The last thing Nova needs is DCFS opening an investigation.

She has enough going on in her life.

But, what does come out of that session is a realization. A few, but Nova is taking them one at a time.

The doorbell ringing pulls her from her thoughts. She takes a deep breath, reminding herself that she can and needs to do this.

Walking from out the kitchen of her spacious home, she makes her way to the front door, not bothering to look out the peephole.

Opening it, she’s met with the most sheepish expression one could muster.

RJ stands there, hands stuffed in his pockets. “Hey, mama….”

Instantly, her eyes are watering. As upset she might have been, and still is with her son, that’s her baby boy.

Stepping aside, she motions for him to come in. He does so, keeping an almost careful distance between them. Like, he’s being cautious.

Looking around, he asks, “where—where are the girls?”

An understandable question. RJ is a good big brother, and the girls adore him. Have missed him the same way they miss their dad. But, they don’t need to be around for this.

“With grandma and grandpa,” she answers. Nova leads them over to the living room where she takes a seat on the big sofa. Junior remains standing, nervous almost. She pats the space next to her. “Take a seat.”

He hesitates, but only for a second. Slowly, he lowers his body onto the sofa, legs semi spread, big foot tapping. A nervous thing, clearly.

Nova doesn't say anything at first, taking time to gather her words.

“I’m sorry, mama,” RJ blurts, like holding it any long would be too painful. “I didn't—” He closes his eyes, shaking his head. “I would never hurt Bella or you or Cami or—”

“I know, honey,” she answers in a low voice. “It–it was a mistake.” Because, it was. For all her son’s faults and vices, that is most definitely not one of them.

Same for Roman.

But, that’s another conversation.

“Does she—does she hate me?” A quiet, almost fearful question.

Nova smiles softly, reaching a hand over. “No, Junior. She doesn’t hate you. She could never hate you.” Because while Bella was understandably upset that night, the following morning, she was asking about her big brother and daddy.

Her little girl could never be mad at the men in her life for too long.

Something she clearly gets from her mother.

Another question. “Do you hate me?”

At that, Nova’s eyes widen. She leans over, taking RJ’s hand in her own. “RJ, I could never hate you, baby. I love you. I was….I was upset with you, yes, but I could never hate you.” The truth. The God’s honest truth. “But, I do—I do need to talk to you.” She swallows, jumping straight to it. “Honey, how do you know about your dad cheating on me?”

Because, in all of the things to come out of that terrible night, that has to be the one thing that’s kept her up the most.

She’d prepared to go to her grave keeping that secret from her children.

Nova sees the way RJ’s expression shifts. Something cold and solemn. “I heard you crying about it that night.” Her stomach drops. “I was coming to ask you for help with my homework, and I saw you. I saw you crying onto Aunt Naomi’s shoulder.”

RJ may not realize it, but he’s just taken her back. Taken Nova back to one of the hardest periods of her life. All of the emotions rushing and slamming into her with newfound intensity. She had no idea her son overheard and saw that. No idea he’s been sitting silently on such a thing for years.

It’s been years since that rough patch with her husband.

“He broke your heart, mama.” She looks away, wiping at her tears. She didn’t realize she still felt so many things from that day. “He cheated on you, broke your heart, and you still took him back.” Her eyes shut, his voice desperate as he asks, “why?”

Nova takes a deep breath. This is the single most difficult conversation she’d both dreaded and never imagined having to have, but here she is.

There is no escaping it now.

“RJ…” Eyes closing, heart racing, she forces it out. “I cheated on your dad first.”

His eyes widen, his jaw partially dropped. He’s stunned. “What?”

Nova forces herself to look over at him, momentarily taken back. It’s like she’s looking at her heartbroken husband all over again.

She sniffles, wiping her eyes, moving into a well deserved explanation. “I was 23. Your dad was on the road wrestling. And, I was here, working a full time job, taking care of you. We were struggling financially, so he had to be gone. He was trying to help provide for us, and I knew that. But….but, I got lonely, and I—I started to resent that he was gone all the time.” A summarized explanation leaving out a lot of details that, even with RJ knowing about the affairs, Nova knows he doesn’t need to know. “He—” This is the part that she’ll forever regret and never be able to forget for as long as she lives. “He walked in on me and the man in bed, flowers and chocolate in hand. He—he’d come home to surprise you and I.” Her voice cracks, the emotion tipping over. “I’ll never forget how devastated he looked.”

Gutted. He was gutted. Furious but more hurt than anything.

“Sweetie.” Nova presses her lips together, shaking her head. “I broke your dad’s heart first.”

It was the reason she first started going to therapy all those years ago. Because Nova struggled deeply with how she betrayed Roman. How she’d allowed temporary emotions to lead her into making what remains one of the biggest regrets of her life.

RJ is stunned into silence, looking down, bewildered and floored. “I—I can’t—”

“You were right, honey. Your father did cheat on me, and he did break my heart.” Nova can’t and won’t deny that. Two truths can be right in the same universe. Roman was wrong, and so was she. But, they worked hard to move past those two major trust and boundary violations. So hard. “But, I chose to forgive him, because I love him, because he found it in his heart to forgive me, because he loves me.” She reaches over, gently stroking the back of his head. “The same way he loves you.”

He says nothing, clearly still struggling between maintaining his wall, and maybe, just maybe, letting it down just enough.

“Do you….do you remember how I used to record all your games, and—” A small, silly smile breaks on her face as she recalls her scowling little boy blushing almost from embarrassment. “And, you used to always ask me why I did it? Used to tell me it wasn’t that big a deal?”

He nods, still saying nothing, a frown present on his face.

“Baby…” Her head tilts, that smile growing just a smidge. “I did it, because your dad asked me to.” Junior’s eyes widen once more at yet another bombshell being dropped on him. “And the first thing he did when he got home and had time, he’d watch them. Every single game. From start to finish. Take notes, too.”

RJ looks as breathless as he sounds. “What?”

“I know….” She sniffles, tears cascading down her face. “I know he wasn’t there a lot when you were younger, and I realize now how that impacted you more than I realized, but sweetheart, he would come home as often as he could. Even if it meant us losing out on money, he would come home, RJ. And, he came because he wanted to see you.”

Another whispered confession from the depths of long buried trauma. “He did?”

Nova tilts her head, a small scoff leaving her mouth. “Roman is….he can be difficult at times.” Difficult feels too much of a simplification, prompting her to explain. “He’s stubborn and hardheaded, and he thinks he knows everything sometimes. If not all of the time, and he was wrong to put his hands on you. You can bet I’ll be talking to him about that.”

Because, she will. Because, Nova cannot see how there’s a way to move past that and act like nothing happened.

Roman took it too far this time.

Way too far.

“But baby, you can also be stubborn and hardheaded. I know….I know you may not want to hear this, but you’re a lot like your dad, and I think that’s also why you two clash the way you do.” Two titans fighting for dominance. Neither willing to break or back down.

At least, until now.

“I—” He finally speaks, ending his minutes long silence. “I didn’t know….I always felt….he never acted like….” Roman Jr. struggles to verbalize what is clearly years worth of pain and hurt. And, Nova won’t make him.

She knows exactly what he’s trying to say.

“RJ, in all the years I’ve known and been with your dad, I’ve only seen him cry once, and that was the day you were born.” Nova will never forget the silent tears that ran down Roman's face as he held his son for the first time. He was so happy. “Honey…..” She takes a second to find the right words. “Your dad….he’s always struggled with feelings and emotions and showing them, but I need you to believe me when I tell you that he loves you. He always has, and he always will.” RJ looks away, shutting his eyes. A lone tear escaping. “I know things between you two have been rough, and I’m so sorry if you knowing about the affair has played any role in the deterioration of your relationship, but please don’t let that get in the way of things. You need your dad in your life, and believe me or not, he needs you, too.”

They all need each other, but it starts with them.

Father and son.

It started with them, and it needs to end with them.

—--------

Roman was just readying to head out. He was doing his best to respect the space Nova clearly wanted, but being away from his girls was becoming too much. She graciously replied to only one of his many texts, simply sharing that Bella was okay.

Nothing else.

And, it wasn’t that Roman didn’t understand the distance she was placing between them. He fully did, but it didn’t negate the fact that he missed his family. He misses his family.

He needs to see them.

He needs to see all his kids and speak to them, but one step at a time.

Keys in hand, Roman opens the door at the same time his entire body stills.

“Junior….”

Sure enough, his oldest stands before him, expression clearly torn. A similar experience to what Roman himself has felt the past week.

RJ swallows, gesturing inside the penthouse. “Are—are you busy?”

Roman takes a second to respond, surprised as all hell by the last person he expected to see. The last person he expected to want to see him.

“No….no….come…come in.”

Roman steps aside, and his son does just as such. Closing and locking the door, Roman watches RJ walk over and sit on the sofa, legs spread, hands clasped together as he stares at the expensive rug.

For a moment, Roman stands unsure of what to do. Lord knows he has no idea what to fucking say. He was prepared to plead to and with his wife. Not his oldest son.

Not yet, at least.

Nevertheless, he finds himself sitting on the sofa, opposite of RJ, that tension previously felt between them at any given point suddenly melted into something almost unidentifiable. He doesn’t know what exactly it is. Just that it feels different.

Finally, Roman realizes he’s the one that needs to break this. In more ways than one. “Junior—”

“Mama told me what happened.”

Roman frowns, confused and lost. “About?”

He watches RJ swallow. “The affairs.” Roman’s back straightens. He’s most definitely wondered about that part of RJ’s angry outburst all week. Just how he knew. But, that’s suddenly less concerning in the face of what was just said. “How…how she cheated on you first, and you forgave her.”

The older man nods. “I did.”

RJ looks up. “How you cheated on her, and she forgave you.”

Roman swallows. “She did.” An act of grace and mercy Roman will forever be grateful for. Always. “Son….” Roman pauses, taking a deep breath. He wasn’t prepared for this, hadn’t gone over what he wanted to say if and when this moment came. But, sitting across from his firstborn, he’s realizing it’s less about preparation and more about honesty.

He needs to speak from the heart.

It’s time for all this to stop.

“I’m not a perfect man, and I never will be.” Roman does his best to keep his words clear, concise, and to the point. “I’ve hurt you, hurt your mom, hurt my family over the years, and I can’t….I can’t change that. I can’t take back what I’ve done, even though I’d give anything to. You…you have no idea.” He pauses, his own emotions taking a front seat. “I—I always said I would never be anything like my father. He’s a coldhearted bastard who only cares about power, success, and performance. Always told me I needed to be the best and anything less was unacceptable.” Roman runs his hand over his face, revisiting a long ago memory. “The day you were born was both the happiest and scariest fucking day of my life. I—I swore to you that day that I’d always be there for you, that I’d be a good dad to you, and that hasn’t happened.” His eyes shut, glazed over with vulnerability and accountability. “And, I’m sorry, son. I am so fucking sorry.”

RJ looks away, clearly overwhelmed by all of the emotions and unexpected confessions the day has brought. But, it’s time, and he knows it. Time to let go of the hurt, of the pain. It’s time to be honest.

“Mama told me….she told me you were the one who wanted her to record my games. That you…that you watched them.” He shakes his head, finally looking over at his father, also with unshed tears in his eyes. “All these years, I’ve been so upset with you, so angry with you. Because I thought you hurt mom, and I thought you didn’t care. Because….because you weren’t there, and I wanted you to be…to be proud of me.” He swallows, jaw clenching from the heaviness of it all. “I wanted….” His voice breaks. “I wanted my dad to love me.”

Roman’s exterior completely shatters. “Junior….”

Without thinking or even overthinking it, Roman stands and moves to sit next to his son, not wasting a single second to pull him into a hug.

A hug that RJ, for the first time in years, reciprocates.

Roman cradles the back of his head, offering the sort of comfort that his son has wanted for years. The love he’s craved. “Son, I’ve loved you since the day you were born. I’ve always loved you, and I always will.” A vow. A promise. Something that can and will never be broken. Not from this day forward. “And, I am so proud of you.”

RJ’s eyes clench shut.

Years.

For years, he’s wanted and craved for so long.

Something he’s had the entire time.

“You’re a fine young man, RJ.” Roman compliments, pulling back, hand gently on the back of his son’s neck. “A better man than I could ever be, and I’m sorry for the role I’ve played in your hurt. I’m gonna do better. By you. By your mom. By your sisters. All of you. I promise.”

Roman has a lot of work to do. He knows this. This one conversation, as heartfelt and vulnerable as it is, can’t undo years of damage and trauma. There’s a long road ahead, but it’s a road he’s willing to travel on.

A journey to healing he’s more than ready to make.

—-----

Despite the unexpected appearance of his son at his doorstep, and the vulnerable conversation that followed, Roman still found his way back to the house.

He has to.

For a week, he’s suffered, as deserved, reliving the incident in his head like a bad song on repeat. He fucked up. A line was crossed that had never been crossed, and while he can’t blame Nova for icing him out, the truth remains that that’s still his wife. Those are his daughters. His son.

His family.

He has to make things right.

Or, at least, try.

He’s certain Nova looked through the peephole before answering, because her usual greeting of “who is it?” is bypassed and traded with the door being swung open. And, there she stands, looking just as beautiful as she always has.

But, there’s a sadness about her eyes that makes him frown. A sadness because of him.

Nova eyes him up and down. “You talked to RJ?” It’s not a question, not with the almost declaratory nature of her tone. Still, he feels obligated to at least reply.

“Yeah,” he answers.

She continues to look at him before closing the door behind her and walking over to the wooden bench on their porch. He’s prepared to remain standing when she pats the space next to her.

He obliges.

She’s quiet, Roman able to tell she’s deep in thought, hence him not saying anything. Just giving her the space to think and speak, when ready.

“Roman, what happened….what happened was not okay.” She starts off, hands planted on her thighs. Nova looks at him. “You lost your temper, but not even that, you lost your temper with our son, and Bella got hurt in the process.”

He closes his eyes. She’s not saying anything he doesn’t already know. Nothing he hasn’t mentally berated himself over for the past week. As he deserves. But, there’s something about hearing her say it aloud, the devastation in her voice, that makes it that much worse. It twists the knife.

“I know,” is all he can say. He won’t make excuses. There are none to make.

“You’ve had an anger problem since we were kids, Roman. But, it’s never….” She trails off, looking away and taking a deep breath. “You need help.”

“You’re right,” he swallows. She’s always been right. He’s just been too stubborn and headstrong to see and/or acknowledge it. “I should have never put my hands on him. It should have never reached that point, but it did, and I’m so sorry, Nova. What happened was fucked up and not okay.” She glances over at him, Roman having to fight back the urge to wipe away her tears. “I haven’t been the husband you deserve or the father I need to be for our kids, and I’ve realized the only way that can change is if I get the help I need.”

All truthful, painful, almost embarrassing confession from a man who’s gradually come to realize the extent and depth of damage he’s done. Somewhere along the way, Roman lost himself. Lost sight of what was most important, and it’s caused him to land exactly where he is.

Practically begging for another chance.

“RJ….RJ told me….told me that you two talked,” she finally speaks after a good minute. “He—he said that you’re going to try to work on your relationship. That….that you asked him to think about doing family therapy with you.”

Roman nods. “I did.”

She casts him a leveled look. “Did you mean it though?”

An easy answer, probably the easiest he’s given all day. “Yes.”

Roman doesn’t necessarily like the idea of therapy. He’s done it before, but still. Feelings and emotions, and talking about them, have never been the easiest for him. But, what he wants more than anything is to repair his relationship with the people he loves the most, and if this is the way to do that, then he’ll do it ten times over.

“And what about individual therapy?” She’s probing, prying to see where his headspace is and how far he’s willing to go to right all his many wrongs.

“That too,” he agrees. “Whatever….whatever I have to do, Nova. I’ll do. I love you. I love our kids, and I love our family. I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this, and I know it starts with me. Nova….” He reaches for her hand, her emotional gaze on him. “I’m not asking for your forgiveness, baby. I know I have to earn that. I have a lot to earn back….” He trails off but never breaks their eye contact. “I’m just asking for another chance.”

Nova doesn’t answer right away, and he doesn’t expect her to. He knows that sometimes she has to sit and think on things. That the gravity of the situation may require additional time. And, he’ll give her that. He’ll give her all the space she needs, because he owes her that much and so much more.

“The girls have missed you.”

But, have you?

Roman has to stop himself from actually asking her.

“I’ve missed them, too.”

I’ve missed you.

Nova takes a deep breath. “I think we should go to marriage counseling again.”

Yet another thing they’re on the same page with. They attended two times prior, both times to process and work through the affairs. Roman found it helpful then. He’s sure he’ll find it helpful now.

“I agree.”

She nods, looking at their conjoined hands, the sun peaking past and under the gable roof reflecting off her wedding ring and his wedding band. “I—I want your focus to primarily be on RJ. That has to be worked on, Roman, if this is going to work.”

“I know.” More agreement of a truth he can’t deny anymore. “I’m gonna make it right, Nova.”

She stares at him, looks at him in a way no one else but she can. Like, she can read him better than he can read himself. “You can come back home.” Roman closes his eyes, a massive wave of relief and joy coming over him. “But, I swear to God, Roman, if you ever put your hands on my son again, this marriage is over. I will divorce your ass so fast, and not only will I get sole custody of the girls, any visits you have with them will be supervised only.” She finishes her firm, assertive declaration with a pointed look. “Do you understand me?”

The thought of such a situation guts Roman. He would never hurt his daughters. Ever. Will forever regret shoving his son. And, he knows good and well as much as Nova might love him, she’s a mother first. Their kids will always be her first priority, as they should be. He respects that. Immensely.

“I understand,” he acknowledges. Roman runs his thumb over her knuckles. “Thank you.”

Nova doesn’t say anything. She just motions to the door. “The girls are in there with Junior.”

Her answer surprises him. He wondered who was watching their daughters while they spoke, but he assumed her parents were over. “Yeah?”

She nods, standing up. She offers her hand, prompting him to stand as well. “Come on.”

Roman wordlessly follows her inside of their home, gently squeezing her hand as she calls out, “girls! Daddy’s home!”

The sound of his girls giggling and making sounds of excitement is accompanied by her squeezing his hand back.

A start.

It’s a start.

—---------

The Raw premiere on Netflix is major.

A groundbreaking, memorable occasion worthy of all the lights, glamour, and action. It’s a make or break night for Roman, the night where it’s decided, once and for all, who the real Tribal Chief is.

Nova and her girls are in attendance. A night so big that she can’t afford to miss it, won’t allow it to pass without her showing up to support her husband.

In the months since the blowup, a lot has occurred. Nova’s ultimatum of sorts with her husband proved effective. He found a therapist and has been attending weekly consistently. They’re also in couples counseling. Not to mention, he and RJ have also been attending weekly therapy together, though virtual, what with Junior away at school and Roman’s schedule being hectic.

There have been some really great times and some tense times, but overall, Nova can see it. Can feel it. Can feel the healing that’s occurring. There are still a ways to go, especially between her son and husband, but they’re not where they were, and that’s all that matters.

They’re moving in the right direction.

Finally.

It’s a tense, violent match.

Nova is on the edge of her seat the entire time, a bit unsurprised and grateful that her daughters are tuned in mostly to their tablets instead of their daddy fighting. Too many times where Solo is close to pinning Roman for her liking, but the whole thing has just been too close for her liking. Matches always make her nervous, and the absence of her son doesn’t help.

Roman invited RJ, as did Nova, but he never gave a solid answer.

It definitely hurt, both herself and her husband, but she could understand why.

There’s still a lot of grounds for those two to cover, and RJ’s speed at which he progresses on this new path is something that can’t be rushed.

She won’t pressure him.

He has to do this at his own pace.

Though, she can’t deny the bittersweet sensation that fills her when Roman makes the pin, when that 3 is finally achieved, signifying that her husband is the one and only Tribal Chief. The true Head of the Table. The OTC.

As proud as she is of him, of the long, hard battles he’s faced to get this point, not being able to share the moment with their firstborn is rough.

But, she braves a smile and blows a kiss to him, holding Cami, pointing to Roman who continues to take in the thunderous applause. Bella stands on the chair next to her, holding onto her dress while also pointing a finger in the air, matching the other attendees.

It dims her sadness just a bit.

However, it’s when the sounds of the crowd shift, and she turns her focus to the ramp that her stomach drops.

She sees Dwayne, Roman's cousin, but she also sees someone else.

She sees RJ.

“The Rock is heading down the ramp, and he’s accompanied by Roman Reigns’ son, RJ Reigns!” She can briefly overhear the commentary, sees the gasp and shock of the crowd. But, it’s the two of them moving into the ring as well as Roman’s unsure expression that has her focus.

Dwayne is the first to hug and embrace Roman, mouthing something in his ear. Nova watches with continued confusion as the hug breaks, and he moves to take the sacred ula fala from Paul. Roman’s shoulders move up and down, as he pants, still trying to fully catch his breath, lingering exhaustion from the match. But both herself and Roman still watching Dwayne's next move.

He hands the ula fala to RJ.

Nova gasps. “Oh my God...”

Tears spill over as RJ walks over to his dad, offering a warm, proud smile. He nods, and Roman’s head dips just enough so RJ can place it on him. Right before her son pulls his father into a hug.

Her heart just about combusts in that moment.

It swells and nears explosion, watching the two men in her life embrace, both their eyes shut from the emotionality of it all. The crowd around them applauds, completely unaware just what this moment means to them.

To her family.

And, Nova sees it. Sees the way RJ’s mouth moves, saying something to Roman.

“I love you, dad.”

She doesn’t need to see Roman to know and hear exactly what he says in response.

“I love you, too, son.”

RJ claps his dad on the back, breaking the hug to stand beside him, raising Roman’s arm. Ones in the sky amongst the thousands in attendance that chant OTC. A proud, emotional expression on Nova’s face as she cries, overwhelmed with happiness and relief.

For the crowd, the OTC is back on top.

For her, for her family, the healing is just beginning.

#roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns #roman reigns x black!oc #arisnotebook

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bumblesimagines · 1 day ago

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A Burning Hill

Request: Yes or No

Summary: Years after losing his family, former revolutionary gets the surprise of his life.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Typical Arcane warnings, angst and death, lots of grieving, implied depression, silco when i catch you silco, child death (mylo, clogger)

divider by the-voice-beckons-below

~~~

(Y/N) felt like a ghost on most days. He floated through the filthy streets of Zaun, ignorant to the buzzing and life around him whilst he walked from street to street until he reached his desolate home by the murky, polluted river. He preferred it, no matter how isolated from the rest of the city. It was home. Old, dull, and free from the tormenting memories the rest of the city held. Life passed him by steadily enough to keep everything at bay, anyway.

The once-vibrant neon signs around the city buildings looked dull when he glanced at the blinking lights. Everything looked dull, washed of its original color, and rendered lifeless in his eyes. There was nothing pretty about Zaun anymore, nothing worth truly fighting for.

It didn't matter how many times Ekko visited him, all the speeches and pep talks he stubbornly gave while (Y/N) watched him only ever seeing the little boy he'd been and not the leader he'd grown into. He'd been like him once.. a long, long time ago.

"(Y/N)!" A gravelly voice called out from one of the stands lined along the rain-slicked cobble street. Mod raised a hand in greeting and then lifted a wooden bowl, the contents inside swishing and nearly dripping off the sides. He wiggled it enticingly and arched one bushy brow while a coaxing grin spread across his face.

Somewhat reluctantly, (Y/N) approached the stand and pushed the hood of his old cloak back as he took a seat on one of the stools. Mod set the bowl before him and stuck a spoon in the fish soup. His reflection blinked slowly back at him, the bags under his eyes noticeable even in the cerulean broth. "Thanks." He muttered, his voice scratchy.

"Anythin' for you, boss." Mod chuckled heartily, thick fingers scratching at his patchy brown beard before he leaned his broad frame against the counter. There was a twinkle in his eyes, bright and mischievous. "Say, boss-"

"I'm not your boss." (Y/N) shoved a spoonful of broth with a chunk of fish into his mouth.

Mod nodded solemnly. "'Course, 'course... I was talkin' to my pal the other day. You remember Divo, right? Well, he and his old lady finally called it quits, and I hear he's got his eye on you-"

(Y/N)'s eyes darted up to meet Mod's hazel ones, his grip on the spoon tightening faintly. Not a single muscle in his face moved, yet Mod clamped his mouth shut instantly and turned his back to him to continue tending the stove with a nervous chuckle. (Y/N) chewed slowly on the fish, letting the flavor dance on his tongue and then swallowing.

He lifted the bowl and slurped as much of the broth as he could into his mouth before letting the bowl fall onto the counter with a clatter and wiping the leftover droplets from his mouth. He slapped a few coins on the table and slid off the stool to continue his way through the crowd, turning a deaf ear to Mod's calls for him.

Zaun was as alive as always. Kids were running about, most of them either fleeing from someone or rushing to catch up with their friends. His heart always clenched when he looked at them, when there was a straggler who couldn't keep up with the older kids.

His eyes always naturally gravitated toward them to watch, despite the stabbing feeling that pierced his gut each time. There was a reason he kept himself unfocused from the goings of the city; everything was a goddamn reminder.

Ducking into an alleyway and dodging the rat that skittered across his path, he began making his way down the usual route to his place. He withheld a sigh when he stepped in a puddle and briefly stopped to shake the droplets from his drenched boot.

He only took a couple more steps before his ears picked up the splash of the puddle, and his mind jerked awake with newfound alertness. He bit his cheek, cursing whatever gods were watching over Zaun. The last thing he wanted was dealing with some stupid thief or wannabe thug trying to earn street cred.

Once their footsteps grew closer, he swiftly spun around and grabbed the front of their shift, a yelp escaping the person when he slammed them into the nearest wall. His grip on their collar tightened until the breath was roughly sucked free from his lungs, every muscle in his body tensing.

He stared at the girl in his grasp, taking in the stunned look in her familiar light gray eyes and the short spiky magenta hair he knew so well. Her face was straight from his memories, only with sharper features, older features. His forehead creased in confusion, and he released her to take a startled step away from her.

"Violet?" He exhaled a name he hadn't spoken in years, his chest stuttering with a shaky inhale.

His eyes flickered all over her face, lingering on the scars and the VI tattoo on her right cheek. No, Violet... His Violet was dead, just like Mylo and Clogger.. like Vander. He sucked another breath, his heart picking up into a pace that made it difficult to breathe.

Violet stared back at him, her features softening until she looked like the fourteen-year-old girl that haunted his dreams, the little girl he lost along with his boys and husband. Her face contorted rapidly, scrunching up with her quivering lips as her eyes flooded with tears.

She gasped for air, one tear managing to escape before she fell into his arms with a sob, an act she'd done a million times before. His arms instinctively wrapped around her and pulled her tight to his chest, his own eyes beginning to sting with tears.

"Dad," She wept into his shoulder, her hands desperately clawing at his back until they bunched up his cloak into her fists. His hold tightened around her until he was cradling her as close as possible. He couldn't bear to consider if it was just another dream where she'd be violently ripped away from him all over again. "I'm so sorry."

"What the fuck."

His heart was thrumming like hell in his ears, his eyes wildly flickering over the burning warehouse by the river that looked like it'd been destroyed by some sort of explosion. He searched for anything, any noise or sign that someone, anyone, was alive and in need of help.

He searched for Vander, half-expecting him to stumble out of the ruins, but as he grew closer, with Ekko's hand tightly clutched in his, he spotted something that made his heart drop to his feet.

"No.." He exhaled and dropped Ekko's hand to rush forward, past the debris and flames, toward the corpse lying on the ground.

His knees groaned when he collapsed onto them, but the pain barely registered in his frantic mind. Lying there, battered and lifeless, was Vander's body. It was mutated, parts of him enlarged unnaturally with prominent black veins and sickening bruises scattered across his body.

His grey eyes, the ones that always lit up at the sight of him, were pale and lifeless, blankly staring up at the night sky above them. His trembling hands took his cheeks, a sob tearing from his throat when Vander's head lolled to the side.

"Van, c'mon, don't- don't do this, please." He couldn't breathe. Teardrops dripped and rolled off Vander's cheek, mixing with the splatters of blood and grime. His hands moved to his shoulders, and he shook him lightly, willing him to come back by some miracle. "Vander, hey, baby... c'mon. Come back to me, please. You- You can't leave me. You made an oath, Vander. You made an- an oath. You made a fucking oath."

His fingers dug into Vander's skin, once warm but now growing cold with the night air. (Y/N) held his cheeks in his palms, praying to whatever deity came to mind to bring his husband back to him, but Vander's lifeless eyes remained half-lidded and his chest remained still.

(Y/N) grinded his teeth together, his vision blurring until the hot tears tumbled down his cheeks, and he collapsed over Vander's corpse, half-sobbing half-screaming until his voice grew hoarse.

"Please, please, don't do this to me..." He whimpered, helplessly reaching for Vander's limp arm and raising it to press his large, collaoused palm over his cheek.

The cool metal of his wedding band pressed into (Y/N)'s skin, burning like a hot iron. Their wedding day flashed clear before his eyes: the party at the Last Drop, the stupidly sugary sweet vows Vander spoke into the microphone that had him unable to make eye contact, the dancing and festivities that kept the bar alive with a happiness they hadn't experienced in ages, little Violet and baby Powder giggling along the whole night with their mother and father.

He looked down at him through blurry, unfocused vision, the heaves and sobs wrecking through his body until it grew sore. This wasn't how they were supposed to part. It wasn't. They were supposed to grow old and frail and gray.

"(Y/N).." Ekko's soft, trembling voice reached his ears. "I... I found this."

Sniffling, (Y/N) lifted his head and turned toward the little boy, a strangled noise emitting from his throat at the sight of Clogger's goggles in his hands, shattered and bloodied. He reached a shaking hand out to gingerly grab them, his thumb rubbing over the glass until his skin caught on the broken glass.

Clogger, Mylo... his boys. His sweet, troublemaking boys. He surveyed the mess around them in search of his missing daughters, but there was no sign of them. His eyes dropped back to his husband.

He'd never be able to listen to one of Mylo's rambly vents again or tend to his injuries while he huffed and puffed. He'd never be able to fix up Clogger's goggles when they broke for the tenth time or share an eye roll over someone's childish antics again. He'd never get to curl up in Vander's arms at night and listen to his rumbling laugh while he recounted his day or feel his lips brush over his ear while he muttered corny love confessions that always made him flush and roll his eyes.

"Who..." His jaw clenched. "Who did this?"

Ekko wiped his runny nose and swallowed, his big, watery eyes narrowing. "Silco."

Silco.

Always. Fucking. Silco.

He stumbled onto his feet in an instant, the bottom of his boots slapping against the stone as he took off down the path leading back into the city. The buildings, markets, and nightlife passed him by in a blur of gray and neon as he ventured further and further toward the inner parts of the Lanes where he knew, he just knew, Silco would be. Other Zaunites leaped out of the way, with those who were too slow being shoved aside until the Last Drop came into view. His home, his sanctuary, and there were already lackeys shuffling in and out of the bar.

He was heaving by the time he swung the bar doors open, his steps slightly staggered as he entered the familiar bar. Some of their regulars were already arguing with Silco's men; Sevika sat at one of the booths with a pained expression as someone hurriedly tended to her shoulder where her arm was simply gone; those injured from the warehouse soothed themselves with alcohol bought from Vander's hard-earned money.

He almost laughed at the absurdity of it all.

(Y/N) shoved Clogger's goggles into his pocket, ignoring the pain in his hand from where glass shards embedded themselves into his palm. He took in a staggering breath. "Where... the fuck is Silco?"

Wide eyes turned in his direction. The regulars frowned sympathetically, and their heckles raised on his behalf, while the lackeys that blindly followed Silco exchanged panicked or hesitant glances. He scanned the bar, but no one uttered a word, leaving the air with a suffocating tension.

One of the younger lackeys glanced up toward the office, the office he used to plan out his ideas, and then shrunk back into his seat when he caught (Y/N) staring daggers at him. Another lackey had the bright idea to step in front of him, his chest puffed out with smug arrogance over their 'victory'.

His husband was dead. Murdered brutally alongside the orphaned children they took in when everyone else turned their backs on them. The only feeling (Y/N) that knew better than grief was pure, unbridled rage. He'd locked the rage away years ago, worked on it until it was tamed for the sake of his children, who'd grown up seeing too much violence on the streets to see it from their protector. It brewed in his stomach relentlessly now, simmering and growing until it made his body run hot.

The young man only had a second to react, a second for surprise to flash over his face, before (Y/N) twisted his dark hair in his fist and slammed his head into the nearest table. He dug the heel of his hand into the man's temple, and with his move, the tension broke, and people lunged at each other. (Y/N) released the stranger, watching him slump onto the floor and clutch his no doubt throbbing head, before he walked around him and bounded up the metal stairs leading up to his office.

There were thuds, crashes, glass shattering, and shouting behind him, but he was only focused on the wooden door growing closer. Silco stood inside his office in the bar his husband owned after slaughtering his family. Silco turned toward him when the floorboards creaked underneath his weight, his mismatched eyes widening before (Y/N)'s fist connected with his cheek.

Silco stumbled backward, his hip bumping into the desk covered in the papers he used for designing mechanisms and technology. He grabbed onto the desk, half-way hunched over as blood dripped down from his nose and onto his vest.

"Felicia wasn't enough for you, was she?" (Y/N) spat out through gritted teeth, drawing Silco's eyes back to his face. They remained widened for a long second and then flickered away to the framed picture hanging on the wall of them back before her death, back before the brotherly bond between Vander and Silco dissolved. "Your ambition took my sister, my brother-in-law, but you couldn't stop there, could you? You just had to take my husband and children, too."

Silco brushed his fingers over the streak of blood coating his upper lip and straightened up, palm brushing back the dark strands that fell over his face from the hit. "I never intended for Felicia and Connol to get hurt." He said grimly, curling his hands around the hem of his vest to adjust it properly over his body. "The children weren't supposed to be there. The boys... Violet. They were... collateral damage."

(Y/N) stared at him, aghast, his fingers curling into fists once more despite the sharp pain in his hands. "Vander and I loved you once." He gritted his teeth, tears tittering on the edge of his vision.

There were faint memories of them in that very office, hunched over the desk while dreaming up what Zaun would look like without Piltover's boot on their necks. Memories of them chatting in a corner of the Last Drop until Silco practically shoved him into Vander's arms so they could dance with Felicia. Silco blinked at him in startlement.

"I thought.. You were the cleverest man in Zaun, that you'd be the one to help us make Zaun better than Piltover. But you're just a filthy, weak little fucking rat."

(Y/N) barely registered how quickly he closed the distance until his hand fisted the collar of Silco's shirt and shoved him onto the floor. He followed him down, his knees pinning Silco's shoulders down against the floorboards as he tugged his knife free from its holster around his waist. Silco's eyes widened again, his hands clutching and shoving against (Y/N)'s legs.

"If Felicia saw you-" Silco gasped out. "-what would she say?"

"She'd hate you for what you did to her daughters, you piece of shit!"

Heavy footsteps quickly grew near, and a bulky arm swooped around his waist to haul him off Silco. "(Y/N), enough-" Sevika hissed in his ear, a strained, pained groan filling his ear as she staggered, weakened from the blow that'd taken her arm.

His legs kicked out toward the desk, and he used it to propel himself back into her, the weight and force forcing her to stumble back until she slammed into the wall. She released him with a cry and clutched at her shoulder with heavy breaths.

He caught himself before he fell, his hand still clutching the knife like a vice when he turned to face Silco. The thin man scrambled to get to his feet again, but (Y/N) swiftly kicked him back down, his movements growing sluggish from exhaustion. He slumped back onto the floor, one knee pinning Silco's forearm and soaking in the wince. He was tired, too. Bastard.

"Vander... Vander thought you were redeemable, even after what you did to Felicia and Connol. He wanted to talk, to make amends, and you slaughtered him like a pig, you-" (Y/N) inhaled sharply, frantically blinking away the tears building in his eyes. Silco froze at his words, stiffening fully underneath him and staring up at him with big eyes. (Y/N) scoffed, disgusted just by looking at his shock. "It should've been your body lying there, forgotten and alone."

(Y/N) raised the blade yet hesitated, his quivering lips pressing together tightly as his eyes flickered between Silco's eyes. The blue-green of his right that'd once been warm and gentle made his stomach churn violently.

For a moment, he found himself staring down at the Silco he used to know, the soft-spoken yet sarcastic young man who'd sit with him while he sketched and offer pointers with a small, tender smile. (Y/N) squeezed his eyes shut and brought the knife down, listening to it embed itself in the floorboard. Silco released a quiet, shaky breath.

Swallowing harshly, (Y/N) opened his eyes to glare down at him. "Where's Powder?"

"My baby girl," (Y/N) carefully cradled her face in his hands, stroking his thumb over her pale skin as a manic laugh fell from his lips. She was real. "They told me you were dead. I-I thought you died with Mylo and Clogger that night. I should've- I should've looked harder. Where- Where have you been?"

Violet wrapped her bandaged hands around his wrists and nuzzled her face into his palms, her shoulders lightly trembling as she took in a staggered breath. "Stillwater." She whispered, her teeth gently biting at her bottom lip as her eyes flickered away with a wince. "That Piltover officer.. the one that worked with Grayson, he.. he took me there. Kept me there this whole time." Her jaw clenched.

(Y/N) bit his tongue and took in a slow inhale, his eyes closing briefly. Marcus. He'd always hated the asshole, even more so after his promotion. "How- How'd you get out?" He blinked his eyes open, his brows knitting together in bewilderment. "Did- Did you escape?"

Stillwater was notorious for keeping a tight hold on its prisoners, and even if one managed to escape, the treacherous waters surrounding the small island would kill anyone who tried fleeing via swimming or boat. Violet had always been resilient, but even she couldn't have possibly escaped alone.

"No, I-"

"Violet! You have got to stop disappearing like that!"

At the end of the alleyway, a young woman stumbled toward them, her fingers tugging the hood back over her head when it slipped after her clumsy attempt at wriggling free from the crowd. She kept her gaze pointed toward the crowd before she turned to look at them, her lips parting to speak, but she quickly closed them when she noticed him. She froze, stiff like a plank, and then slowly raised her hand to give an awkward wave.

"Dad," Violet began, her lips twisting into a sheepish, hesitant smile. He frowned. Nothing good ever came out of a smile like that. "This is Caitlyn Kirraman."

"Kiramman?"/ "Dad?!"

(Y/N)'s head turned back to the dark blue haired-girl with a squinted gaze that only made her stiffen again. He raked his eyes over her slender figure, taking note of the clothes beneath the draps hanging onto her shoulders.

Her skin was too clear, too perfect. Her hair was too sleek and shiny. Her clothes were prim and delicate, not a hole or tear or washed-out color on a single article. Her hands looked smooth, free of callouses. Her body flinched with each loud noise that came from the night market, like a mouse in a den of vipers. Topsider, and given the weapon strapped to her back, she was an Enforcer.

He snapped his attention back to Violet and tore his hands from her face to set them over his hips disapprovingly. Violet's sheepish look grew, and she dropped her eyes onto the ground, where she lightly kicked a pebble aside. "You're with a Enforcer?! Violet! You just told me you were at Stillwater- I- Ugh." (Y/N) pinched the bridge of his nose. "What am I going to do with you, Vi?"

"Love me?" Violet proposed with a little, cheeky smile.

(Y/N)'s shoulders sagged, a huff of amusement slipping past his lips before he tugged her into another tight embrace. "I missed your smartass comments, you little asshole." Violet's laugh sounded muffled against his shoulder, her arms sliding around his waist in an equally tight hug. "I always knew you'd be hard to get rid of.. like dog shit that gets stuck on the bottom of shoes." Violet laughed again, this time lightly pushing at his chest and rolling her eyes.

"Ahem," Caitlyn shuffled forward toward them, her eyes jumping between their faces before she focused on him and stuck her hand out for him to shake with a polite yet strained smile. "As Vi said, I'm Caitlyn Kiramman. I helped your daughter get out of Stillwater Prison this morning."

(Y/N) eyed her outstretched hand. "Why?"

"I.." Caitlyn trailed off, her fingers curling inward before she dropped her hand back to her side. "I need her help.. and yours, I suppose. There is an... ongoing investigation regarding stolen shipments that I have reason to believe have been orchestrated by the man you all know as Silco. If I gather enough evidence, we may be able to put him behind bars for once and for all." She firmly nodded.

(Y/N)'s mouth drew into a taut line, his front teeth dragging along each other. He could still hear his own sobs echoing in his ears, the hoarse screams into his pillow the following weeks after the warehouse incident. He was so tired. He stared down at the stone ground beneath them, watching the water covering it reflect the neon signs lining the tops of the buildings above them.

His head shook lightly. "Don't bother."

"Dad, c'mon... You still have power here. People still respect you; some still fear you." Violet placed her hand over his shoulder, her fingers gently squeezing it. "If you rallied the people-"

"Your father was the leader, Violet. I was the follower, the one who took orders, the one who had to be patched up constantly. Everything and everyone I fought for is.. is gone. I have nothing left in me, Vi, I don't. All I do is wait for the day I can reunite with Van and be done with all this."

The corners of Violet's brows angled upward. "You- You have me. I'm here, Dad. I'm- I'm back... and Powder.. she's still here, right? She's okay, right? Tell me she's okay, please."

"It's complicated, Vi. She.. She's alive." The relieved, breathy laugh that escaped Violet made him wince. He raised his gaze off the ground to look at her, the pained frown on his lips wiping the relief clean from her face. "I see her, sometimes. She pops by when she feels like it. Sometimes, we'll bump into each other and talk. She... she hasn't gone by Powder in a long time. Powpow doesn't exist anymore, Vi. She's one of Silco's lackeys now."

"What?"

"I've tried getting through to her for ages, even Ekko's given it a go, but she's stubborn. She's not well, Vi.. and Silco- Silco refuses to see it. I've told him time and time again but-" (Y/N) rubbed his fingertips over his forehead, soothing away a building headache. Their countless arguments rang clear in his ears. It was like talking to a wall on most days. "Our talks never go anywhere. I hate him too much, and he knows it. Uses it as a reason not to believe me. It's hopeless, Vi."

"No... No, no, I don't-" Violet turned away from him, one hand raising to clutch her chest while the other braced against the wall. "I-I don't believe that. She- She'd never work for him, not after what he did. You're wrong. I can help her, I swear. I-I can get through to her. I can prove it."

"It's not that simple, Vi."

"I'm her big sister." Violet's hands curled into fists, and her head raised to look at him, the determination in her eyes startlingly similar to Vander's. It made his throat tighten. "She's my responsibility."

"You're my girls, Vi. You two will always be my responsibility... but things are different. If I push too hard, I risk losing her forever." He stepped toward her, reaching out to delicately touch her chin and remind himself she really was alive. Alive and no longer the little girl he'd taken care of since she was a newborn. "If you go running after her and Silco finds out, who knows what he'll do. I can't lose you again."

"I'm not a kid anymore, Dad. I can take care of myself." A tender smile spread on Violet's face, her hand enveloping his reassuringly. "I'll bring Powder back, and we'll be a family again, I promise."

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midnightshindig · 3 days ago

Note

That Cecil’s kid one was amazing! Could we get a version where Cecil was unfortunately too busy with work to be there for his kid? Maybe they grow up to resent him a little and eventually secretly end up working with the Mauler Twins, Angstrom, etc (maybe even Viltrumites if you’re willing), for their own personal gain, or what ever reasons you see fit? Take your time! Sorry in advance for this request being kinda long :)

Cecil & Villain!Child!Reader

Oh my god i've been wanting to do this request for so long!! Thank you for submitting it!

hcs under the cut

Your mother died young, being a superhero did that.

You never hated her for it, for protecting others and for doing her best

but you couldn't help but resent her a little for who your father was

or rather, who he wasn't

Father was a generous term for what Cecil was. He was a lot of things

Head of the GDA, most powerful non-powered civilian on Earth, a badass ex spy and a great diplomat and genius

but he was NOT a father

you both knew it.

You barely knew the guy, being raised by a nanny specifically for superpowered children like yourself

You saw him occasionally at dinner, but that was maybe once a month.

He, for safety reasons, didn't want the world to know the two of you were related

so naturally, when you had a big baseball game, or your schools talent show cropped up, or even when you landed a main role in your senior play, he "couldn't" attend

Oh sure, it was taped and streamed to him, but you knew he never watched.

So was it really any surprise when you weren't jazzed about becoming a superhero?

When, throughout your final year of high school and the two years after, you befriend the Mauler Twins?

Even supervillains are allowed pen pals in prison, and they made such compelling ones for you to correspond with

It was a fun guessing game as to which twin had written what, and over the course of three years, the three of you had become something akin to friends

They gave you advice on what your major should be, how to handle the stress of college, and shared anecdotes from their own lives

It was hard to imagine them as normal people once, but they made a convincing story

You knew it was likely supervillain manipulation, but they seemed interested in your life, I mean, its not like they had tv

So you would detail your day-to-day life, sharing your frustrations with Cecil and the GDA as a whole

"What an asshole." the three of your would agree

Maybe you three could work together? It was an idea brought up frequently.

So honestly, you weren't really all that surprised when they showed up at your house after getting broke out of prison

Your powers were marginally useful, the ability to phase through walls and be invisible.

It was USEFUL, but not terribly flashy.

Either way, it made stealing things with them incredibly easy.

Cecil didn't notice when you stopped coming home

god knows he was never there

he did notice, however, when the Declaration of Independence went missing

and when GDA specialty supplies went missing

and when the schematics for all sorts of government wherewithal went missing.

"Donald- what the FUCK is going on?!" Cecil demanded, watching the surveillance streams

"Uh- Sir, you need to see this-" The feed was cut and changed to the news

The Mauler twins, business as usual. Whatever.

But-

"OH my god- Y/n?" Cecil put a hand to his head, pacing back and forth

He thought you'd moved out- maybe with roommates or a partner or something- but this?

Oh fuck....

Cecil teleported to the scene, the Mauler Twins and you attempting to break into the White House once more.

"Y/n! Get over here!" Cecil called out, a mix of anger and pain in his voice

you ignored him.

The Guardians of the Globe arrived

and realistically there wasn't a way they could tell them "oh leave that one alone its my offspring."

And so, as all good things go, your villainous spree ended with you in GDA's supervillain prison.

"Why? I want to know why." Cecil sat across from you with his hands folded

"God- what do you care?" you spat back, your hands cuffed and an anti-power collar around your neck

"Because, Y/n, you're my child and I care about you. At the very least I don't want you in prison."

"You didn't even know I had powers."

"Of course I did!"

"You knew I could phase through walls, but being invisible? I've read the files, Mom couldn't do that. And you had no idea I could."

Cecil sat in silence for a minute. Processing.

"Is that what this is, Y/n? Rebellion?"

You shook your head, rolling your eyes "Of course, everything I do is to appease or piss off a guy I don't even know."

"I'm your father, Y/n."

"Fuck off." your glare was cutting, and the tone in your voice oozed venom with every syllable.

"The Mauler Twins helped me enroll in community classes, they gave me advice about being an adult and how the world works. They listened and were happy for me when I graduated. They sent me a shitty graduation card with the supplies you give them in prison. To be clear- these guys were in prison and they showed up more than you did."

Cecil literally couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Y/n, you're only eighteen, you need to rethink thi-"

"I'm twenty."

Cecil blinked, standing up and going to the door, speaking with Donald through the door before returning

"Twenty.... wow...."

You leveled another glare at him "Yeah. Time flies when you're having fun." your tone was sarcastic, and your disdain apparent.

"Look. I'm sorry for being a bad father, but you're a criminal."

"So? Lock me up, throw away the key. Just fuck out of my life, you were doing so good until now."

Cecil let out a long, drawn out sigh. Feeling twenty years of disappointment in a single moment "Y/n, I know I never took the time to know you, but know this. I don't waste potential."

...

"Go fuck yourself, Cecil."

Bonus!:

The Mauler Twins are being interrogated for their involvement with you

they don't usually take accomplices, so the GDA wanted to know why

instead all they got were violent outburst about your location

"Where is Y/n?! They are INNOCENT damnit! My Clone will agree-!"

"I'm not the clone. But as the ORIGINAL, I demand to know where Y/n is and that they are safe!"

The twins are assured of your safety, but do not calm down until surveillance footage of you and Cecil's interrogation is shown to them

This puts them at ease, as they continue to testify to your innocence.

The GDA has never seen them so concerned about anyone other than themselves

"We will gladly serve our time- god knows we will always find a way out- but Y/n is innocent, release them this instant!"

#invincible #invincible show #invincible season 3 #invincible fanfic #invincible spoilers #invincible x reader #cecil stedman #cecil stedman & reader #cecil invincible #invincible cecil #invincible mauler twins #mauler twins

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v4mpire45 · 20 hours ago

Text

Oh, dear diary — K. Bakugo

currently playing ��︎ bubblegum b*tch — MARINA

pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x Female reader

synopsis: For a year, you write diary entries about a certain fiery blonde.

April 7th, 2089

First day at U.A. High. It’s hard to believe I’m finally here. The whole place is overwhelming, huge campus, crazy architecture, and don’t even get me started on the students. But I guess that’s to be expected when you’re going to the top hero school in the country.

I didn’t expect to meet someone like him so soon, though.

We were doing some sort of introduction thing, and then this guy with spiky blonde hair, Bakugo, I think he’s called started yelling at everyone like he owned the place. At first, I thought he was some kind of teacher with how intense he was.

But no, it turns out he’s a student. Great. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone with such an... explosive personality.

I’m not sure how to feel about him yet. But I can tell he doesn’t take anyone lightly.

April 20th, 2089

Hey, I haven't written in here in a while. U.A. takes up a lot of time. Anyhow, things have been going well. I've made some great friends. I had a conversation with that Bakugo kid. Well, not really he told me to move 'cause I was being too slow?? But it's something, I guess. I don’t get him. He’s so intense and always so grumpy, it’s like he’s constantly mad at everyone. But I’ve noticed that when he does talk to people, it’s always like he’s trying to be superior.

Honestly, it's kind of funny. But it's also kind of annoying.

I really don’t get why he’s like that. It makes it hard to even have a proper conversation with him. He’s just… loud. I’m gonna try not to let it get to me, though. Maybe he’ll calm down eventually.

July 21st, 2089

Okay, so things are getting a little better with Bakugo. It's not like we’re friends or anything, but he doesn’t snap at me as much when we cross paths. In fact, he even said "good job" after one of our training exercises. Granted, it was barely audible, and he quickly followed it up with "but don’t get cocky," but still. It felt... different.

The summer’s been intense. U.A. is no joke, and I’ve definitely been pushed harder than I ever have been before.

But there’s something kind of inspiring about seeing Bakugo in action. He works so hard, no matter what. It’s almost like he’s always on a mission, like there’s something he’s trying to prove to everyone. He pushes himself to the limit, and I guess I can respect that.

But, there’s still that edge to him, that explosiveness. I’m not sure how to get past that or if I even want to. He’s definitely a force to be reckoned with, that’s for sure.

August 3rd, 2089

I didn’t expect Bakugo to be so... well, helpful? It was during our summer training camp (which was a horrible experience btw), and I was struggling with my technique. I thought I’d just tough it out and keep going, but Bakugo actually stopped what he was doing and gave me a few pointers. He was as blunt as always, saying stuff like, "You’re doing it wrong, fix it," but I don’t know. It was kind of nice. It felt like, for a second, he actually cared about how I was doing. And I have to admit, I don’t hate that feeling.

I still don’t know what to make of him. One minute he’s being a total jerk, and the next, he’s actually being decent. I can’t figure him out. But I guess that’s part of the appeal, right?

September 17th, 2089

Okay, I’m starting to think that Bakugo isn’t as bad as I originally thought. It’s not like we’re friends yet or anything, but I’ve noticed some small changes. During one of our sparring sessions, he actually took a moment to check if I was okay after I took a hit. No yelling, no insults, just… concern? It was so strange coming from him.

Maybe I’ve been too hard on him. I mean, I’m not saying he’s suddenly my best friend or anything, but I’ve started to understand that he’s just intense because he cares. He doesn’t show it the way most people do, but I think he just wants to make sure everyone’s pushing themselves to be the best they can be.

I don’t know… Maybe I’m starting to see him in a different light.

October 31st, 2089

It’s Halloween, and for some reason, Bakugo is actually acting... well, kind of normal? I mean, he’s still grumpy, but he didn’t yell at anyone for their costumes, which is surprising considering how much he complains about everything. I ended up in a game of spin the bottle at a party, and when the bottle landed on me and Bakugo, I swear, I saw the smallest blush on his face.

Of course, he immediately started grumbling, but I could tell he wasn’t as annoyed as usual.

He didn’t even comment on my Puss in Boots costume, which was honestly a little disappointing. But still, there was something about his reaction that made me think maybe he doesn’t mind me as much as he acts like.

December 25th, 2089

Christmas at U.A. wasn’t what I expected. Everyone was so cheerful, and there were so many gifts exchanged. But what really stood out was something small that Bakugo did. He gave me a little gift, nothing big, just a small pendant with a flame on it.

It was kind of like his quirk, but in a subtle way. He didn’t say much about it, just muttered something about not wanting to hear me complain.

But that was it, and honestly, it felt... special. I think he actually cares. Not that he’d admit it, of course, but it’s the little things.

February 14th, 2090

I think I’m starting to fall for him. I hate how cliché that sounds, but honestly, I really think I am. It’s been a few months now, and Bakugo... he’s just different.

Not in a bad way, but he’s grown on me. His brashness, his unwavering determination, the way he always pushes himself to be better, it's actually kind of inspiring.

And I can't deny it anymore, I care about him. More than I should, maybe. I find myself noticing the little things he does when he thinks no one’s paying attention. Like how he pulls his punches during sparring, making sure no one gets hurt.

Or how he keeps an eye on the rest of the class, even if he’d never admit it.

I don’t really know what to do about it. Maybe I’m just confused.

I used to write in this diary to talk about my day, to rant or say something random. But looking back at my entries, it’s all about him. I can’t even remember the last time I wrote anything that didn’t have to do with Bakugo, or Katsuki, as I call him now.

We’ve been on a first-name basis for a while now, and every time I say his name, my heart skips.

March 1st, 2090

So, it happened. I finally did it. I confronted Bakugo about it. The way I feel, I mean. It wasn’t as dramatic as I thought it would be. I just kind of pulled him aside, and before he could yell at me for something, I blurted out, “I think I’m in love with you, you idiot.”

He froze, stared at me, and then said, “Tch, you’re an idiot.”

But... he didn’t walk away. He didn’t leave me standing there, confused and embarrassed.

Instead, he stepped closer, grabbed my hand, and in the softest voice I’ve ever heard from him, he said, “You’re not the only one, dumbass.”

And just like that, he kissed me, he actually kissed me!

We’re still figuring things out, but I’m happy.

Really happy.

I never expected Bakugo to feel the same, but I guess I was wrong.

Maybe we weren't so different after all.

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sweetdispatch · 3 days ago

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https://www.tumblr.com/sweetdispatch/776300941286703104/v-bakery-500-celly

hi can I pls request a 7 piece warm apple pie with passionfruit ice cream and crushed almonds? thank you!

Bad mother - N. Hischier

v' bakery pairing: Nico Hischier x fem!reader summary: After having a baby, you and Nico started trying for another one until your mind was covered in worry warning: NSFW, graphic sex (+18), oral (f receiving)

Two years ago, you and Nico welcomed your first child. It has been the best two years of your and Nico’ life. Your daughter brought a lot of happiness to your life and made you fall in love again with Nico. You two always had been talking about having a big family but when you and Nico started trying for another kid, you became scared.

You played along, acting like you still want it but deep down, the kid made you change your mind. You felt like a bad mother and started overthinking every little mistake you’ve made. All the worries were pointless because you were the best mother for your daughter but you were scared that with a new kid, you might abandon the older one.

One day, Nico returned home and placed a loving kiss on your lips. Your daughter was already asleep so you two had a night for each other. He started roaming his big hands on your body and you pulled from him. This move alarmed him that something’s off with you.

“What happened?” Nico asked you to look at your face and read every emotion from it.

“I’m scared Nico” There was no turn back. You took a deep breath and continued. “I’m scared to get pregnant again. I’m scared that with the new kid, I’ll forget about our daughter and won’t be a good mother for her. I was thinking about this lately since you brought up the conversation and I already feel not good enough for her”

Nico looked at you with worry written on his face. He felt like he failed you in showing that you’re the best mother for your kid. His mind couldn’t understand why you are thinking this way about yourself. For him, you were a wonderful mother and wanted to have more kids with you.

“Where is this coming from? You're a great mother so what’s with the worries?” Nico asked you and placed his hands on your waist.

“I don’t want to be responsible for ruining our kid because we have another…” Before you could continue, Nico put a finger on your lips to make you stop talking. When you closed your mouth, he spoke.

“You’re prettier with your mouth shut, especially when you’re saying nonsense like you just did. You’re wonderful mother to our daughter and another kid won’t change it. Yes, your focus will be on the newborn but you’ll never abandon our daughter. Let me show you how much I adore you for everything you’re doing” Nico pulled you into a kiss and carried you into a bedroom.

Nico sat down on the bed and you sat down on his knees. Gently, he took off your shirt and started admiring your breast in a bra. He went lower with his kisses, placing them on your jawline and neck. You threw your head so he could have a better access. Your hands went into his hair and slightly you pulled them.

Softly, Nico placed you on a bed so you could lay on your back. He started going lower with kisses, whispering cute and meaningful things to you. With every word, you were blushing like crazy. Nico always made sure you felt good but today, he was worshipping you. He took off your sweatpants and panties in one, motion move. He placed one last kiss on your belly and gently spread your legs apart.

No matter how many times Nico saw you naked, it always amazed him how amazing a body you have especially after giving birth. For him, you were the prettiest and hottest woman alive. He stopped his moves and looked at you for a minute.

“I could look at you whole day and whole night and never get bored of this view. I mean, wow. You look absolutely insane and only for my eyes” Nico said and kneeled in between your legs.

Nico started placing kisses on your inner thighs before he kissed your pussy. He was delicate in his moves, and didn't want to rush things. Just wanted to show you how wonderful a woman you are and all your worries are pointless. He took the time with you. He didn’t want to just give an orgasm. He wanted you to feel appreciated.

It was an act full of love. You felt his every touch on you. You became a mess under him and were moaning like crazy. Nico knew all your sweet spots and wanted to give you the most pleasure he could. He was eating you out and your hands went into his hair. You were slightly pulling them while enjoying this like never. All your worries were long forgotten. Now, it was all about you and him.

Nico added a finger into you to bring you closer to the edge. He was well aware that you won’t last long and wanted to give you the most. His other hand was firmly laying on your thigh so you couldn’t close them. You arched your back from the pleasure. Not long after, you cum around his lips. You felt drained from the energy.

You tried to catch your breath when Nico lied next to you and pulled you closer to hug you. You two laid like that for a couple of minutes until he spoke.

“I don’t want you to feel forced to have another kid. If you’re not ready, I understand it but please, never say that you’re a bad mother. I couldn’t picture anyone better as a mother for our kid” Nico softly said. You smiled at his words.

“I want another one but maybe not now. Can we wait a little longer until I settle down with my emotions?” You asked him, already knowing the answer.

“Always” Nico kissed your cheek. “Now, go to sleep. It’s already after your bedtime” He joked and you cuddled him.

#nico hischier #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier fanfiction #nico hischier oneshot #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #new jersey devils #v' bakery

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save-the-villainous-cat · 1 day ago

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Hello, Cat! If it’s not bothering you too much, may I please have a small request?

I just want to a sick villain who gives off sick Victorian child vibes. That’s all.

“It actually hurts so much,” the villain whispered.

The hero stared at the nemesis in their bed and wondered when they’d become soft and merciful enough to let an enemy into their home. They couldn’t even remember when their last visitor had come over.

That was…maybe five months ago? When their mother had visited?

They couldn’t recall.

“I think I’m dying.” The villain was actually tearing up, tossing and turning in bed. They were trembling. The hero let the back of their hand touch the villain’s forehead again.

“I told you it’s a fever.”

They weren’t exactly worried. If the villain died which was very unlikely, they could simply throw the body into the streets for some patrolling hero to find. However, it would raise quite some attention.

Especially because the public was aware of their regular fights.

“I’m really not kidding it’s actually so bad…” The villain’s entire face was red. Their body was basically radiating heat, just like a reactor. “Breathing hurts so much. My head hurts…I’ll die, I swear I’ll die…”

“Ugh, shut up. It’s just a cold.” The hero frowned. The villain had suddenly collapsed in the middle of the fight. It wasn’t unusual for the villain to be lightheaded, that much was clear to the hero. But collapsing during a fight was a bit much.

Maybe the hero had thought the villain would be a useful hostage after recovering. It sounded like a good plan and maybe that was why the hero had brought them here but, slowly, they seemed to regret it.

“I don’t deserve you, I really don’t,” the villain mumbled. They seemed a little delirious. Sweating. Complaining. Moaning. The hero tilted their head and realised that their hand was still too close to the villain. They pulled it away.

“Just rest for now.”

“I mean it, I…God, I don’t deserve you. Everyone always says you’re so scary, but I like that about you so much, do you know that?” The hero shifted on their chair. The villain was surely overwhelmed by pain. And it wasn’t like the hero could exactly trust them if they weren’t either.

“You should-”

“That one time when someone was robbing this bank and there were a lot of explosives going off, do you remember that? There was this child, she must have been like five years old. And you rescued her and she held onto you the entire time and you didn’t let go of her. She was crying, tears streaming down her face. And you calmed her down, you searched for her parents and everything. When I saw that, I…it was so adorable. You’re so adorable…” The hero could barely make out the words the villain was mumbling.

But it was true. That had happened a few months ago. And the hero was still in contact with the girls’ parents.

But the villain hadn’t been part of that incident. Had the villain watched them from afar?

“You’re one of those grumpies who are really soft inside, aren’t you?” The villain smiled. They were still sweating, still red. The hero doubted they’d recall this conversation in a few hours.

And the hero…the hero’s throat was dry. They were frozen. Couldn’t move, couldn’t say a thing. It was true that the hero preferred to be alone. Not because they thought they were better or worse than everyone else.

It was simply, that they didn’t believe they were that significant, that special to other people. Sure, they were a hero, but it didn’t matter who was behind the mask. In their mind, they were only half-visible, walking around like a shadow. Barely noticeable. If they died, someone else would get the costume and continue.

And the hero was fine with that, enjoyed it even.

So, when the villain had acknowledged this, the hero wasn’t really sure what to say.

“Too bad we ended up on opposite sides, I would love to work with you. But it’s alright.” The villain cleared their throat. “Sure, I have my orders and you have yours, that’s totally respectable.”

“You’re having a fever. What you’re saying is…it’s…” The hero sighed. “…you should get some rest, you’re barely making any sense.”

“Mm, yeah. I just…if it does come to the point where one of us is killing the other, just keep in mind that I know you’ll make it quick and painless,” the villain said. They brushed the hero’s knee with their fingers. “I know you’re very merciful. I love that about you.”

The hero was too stunned to say anything. Instead, they threw a few more blankets onto the shivering villain and fled into the kitchen.

#huffle I didn’t forget your sickfic request I’m just bad with part 2s #writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #request #an answer for an ask

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sturnsblogs · 1 day ago

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˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆More than best-friends‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Chapter 7: Distance

Chris tried to convince himself he was fine.

That night, after Avery had made him choose, he laid in bed staring at the ceiling, his thoughts running in circles. He told himself he’d done the right thing. He chose his girlfriend. That’s what he was supposed to do, right? That’s what a good boyfriend does—he prioritizes his relationship.

So why did it feel like he had lost something?

He hadn’t spoken to you in over a month, and now he wasn’t allowed to. The silence, once just an ache in the background, had turned into something suffocating. Every time he unlocked his phone, his fingers hesitated over your contact. He still had your number memorized, still knew exactly what he would say if he got the chance. But he wouldn’t.

Because Avery would know.

And he couldn’t go back on his word.

So instead, he distracted himself. He spent every free moment with Avery, texting her constantly, answering her calls the second his phone buzzed. He made sure she had no reason to doubt him. And it worked—at least on the surface.

Avery was happy. She was glowing, smug in the knowledge that Chris had picked her. She would randomly grab his hand and squeeze it, kiss his cheek out of nowhere, make little comments like “See? Things are better now.” And Chris would nod, forcing a smile, pretending he believed it too.

But the guilt gnawed at him.

He hadn’t realized how much he depended on you until you were gone. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed those late-night conversations, those inside jokes, those moments where he could just be himself without worrying about saying the wrong thing.

With Avery, everything felt like a test now.

One wrong move, one hesitation, and she’d look at him like she was waiting for a reason to doubt him again.

And then, one day, he saw you.

It was a random afternoon in June, and Chris was walking through the parking lot after grabbing lunch with Avery. She was talking about something—he wasn’t really listening—when his eyes landed on you across the lot.

You were laughing at something, your head tilted back slightly, the way you always did when something genuinely amused you. And just for a second, everything else faded.

Chris stopped walking.

Avery noticed immediately.

Her grip on his arm tightened. “Chris,” she said sharply.

He didn’t respond.

You hadn’t seen him yet, but that didn’t stop the wave of emotions that crashed into him all at once. He missed you. He missed you so much it physically hurt.

Avery followed his gaze, and when she saw you, her grip turned vice-like. “Seriously?” she snapped.

Chris flinched, snapping out of it. “What?”

Avery scoffed. “You’re staring at her like a lost puppy. Are you kidding me?”

Chris clenched his jaw, looking away. “I wasn’t.”

“Yes, you were.” Avery pulled him forward, her nails digging into his wrist. “Come on. We’re leaving.”

Chris hesitated, glancing back once more.

And that’s when you looked up.

For the first time in over a month, your eyes met.

His breath caught in his throat.

But before he could say anything, before he could even process the look on your face—surprise, sadness, something else—Avery tugged him forward, breaking the moment completely.

He let her.

Because what else could he do?

That night, he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

Chris lay awake, staring at his phone, his fingers hovering over your name. The urge to call you, to hear your voice, to tell you everything—he could barely breathe past it.

He sat up, raking a hand through his hair. Screw it.

Before he could overthink it, he grabbed his hoodie, shoved it on, and slipped out his window.

The walk to your house felt like a blur, his heart pounding harder with every step. He knew this was wrong. He knew Avery would lose her mind if she found out.

But he couldn’t not see you.

When he reached your house, he didn’t hesitate. He climbed up the way he had so many times before, slipping through your window with ease.

You were sitting on your bed, scrolling through your phone. The second you saw him, your eyes widened.

“Chris?”

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Hey.”

You stared at him like you couldn’t believe he was really there. “What are you doing here?”

Your expression hardened. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know. But I didn’t know where else to go.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “You were always the person I went to when things got bad.”

You looked away, exhaling shakily. “That’s not my role anymore.”

Chris’s stomach twisted. “I don’t want to lose you.”

You met his gaze, and for the first time in over a month, he saw it—the hurt. The anger. The betrayal.

“You already did.”

Chris felt like the air had been knocked from his lungs. His breath came out shaky, uneven. “No, I didn’t. I—I didn’t have a choice. Avery—she made me, she said—” He was scrambling now, desperation creeping into his voice. “She said if I loved her, I wouldn’t pick you, and—” He exhaled sharply, raking his hands through his hair. “I didn’t want to, I swear I didn’t want to.”

You shook your head. “But you still did.”

Chris took a step closer, his hands shaking. “I had to. She said I already lost you.” His voice cracked. “But I didn’t want to. I never wanted to.”

You stared at him, your arms wrapped around yourself like you were trying to hold something together. “Chris…”

“Please.” He stepped closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t do this. I—” He inhaled sharply, his eyes glassy. “I don’t know how to do this without you.”

You exhaled, closing your eyes for a moment. When you opened them, you looked tired. “You should’ve thought about that before you left me.”

Chris clenched his jaw. “I didn’t leave you. I was forced to—”

“No.” Your voice was firm. “She might’ve given you an ultimatum, but the choice was still yours.”

Chris looked away, his breath uneven. “I thought I was doing the right thing.”

You let out a small, bitter laugh. “And look where that got us.”

Chris swallowed hard, shaking his head. He was losing you. He already lost you.

But he couldn’t accept it.

“Please.” His voice broke. “I don’t care about any of it anymore. I just need you.”

You hesitated. Just for a second.

But then, you shook your head. “You should go, Chris.”

Chris opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

You turned away.

And that’s when he knew.

It was over.

For the first time, he didn’t just feel like he lost you.

He knew he had.

A/N- I teared up just a bit.

My beautiful babies- @blushsturns @chrislilcumslvt @izzylovesmatt @chrisslut04 @mylittled0ve @oopsiedaisydeer @csturnioloswifey @just-a-girl-1 @sturdyyolo

CHAPTER 6

TAGLIST TO MASTERLIST

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #chris sturiolo fanfic #sturniolo fanfic #faniction #fanfic #chris sturniolo angst #angst #sturniolos #sturniolo #sturniolo x reader

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exquisink · 2 days ago

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When The Daylight's Gone, Ch2 - Yandere!Gojo Satoru x Fem!Sorcerer Reader

warnings. nothing in particular in this chapter, except for a brief mention of masturbation. but heed the tags on AO3. This chapter has been already posted there but I forgot to cross-post. Whoops.

wc. almost 11K this chapter, lmao.

Adjusting to life at Jujutsu Tech may not have been the smoothest ride for you, but everyone has been kind, considerate, and helpful with you; everyone has been ready to help and practically at your beck and call. Especially Gojo-sama. You’re not oblivious to how much he seems to be interested in helping you feel part of the organization—or whatever you’d call this (it’s definitely not truly a school)—and you let him know that his efforts don’t go unnoticed, which seems to change something in him every time you do. It’s almost as if he doesn’t get enough gratitude for all of the effort he puts into making a change around here. While his colleagues don’t seem all that impressed with him for a myriad of reasons removed from his role, you find that you think of him as more and more compelling of a person.

You notice it in his little mannerisms around his students, in particular. He and Kento Nanami share a common goal: they want to protect those flames within the students, they want to protect their youth and allow them room to just be kids. You have a feeling that in the world of jujutsu, you are forced to grow up far too quickly as you are thrust into some of the most gruesome situations that most people honestly cannot fathom experiencing themselves. It’s why you have removed yourself from hunting curses, much like Ijichi-sama. It’s not something you can stomach. Having the curse of seeing spirits is something you already wish you didn’t have, but that doesn’t mean you can’t find a way to help others. That’s the whole reason you’ve taken this job in the first place.

But Gojo-sama…it absolutely doesn’t take a genius to see that the way he acts around others is a mask. It’s painfully obvious the more you hang around him, the more you observe from the sidelines, and you wonder if somewhere in all of that haughty, obnoxious, condescending as fuck facade of his that he wishes someone else had done the same for him. Maybe back in his days as a student here, he hasn’t had someone to shield him from the horrors of the world and he’s witnessed them far too early in his life.

“So! I think the students are going to enjoy a quick trip to Shinjuku!” Gojo suggests, drawing your attention back to the present as he leans so far back into his office chair that it begins to creak against the wooden floor. His hands clasp together as he continues to speak. “And while Nanami is off babysitting them, that means I have a lot more free time to spend with y—I mean you guys!”

Shoko shakes her head. “I can’t guarantee I’ll have my schedule freed up for your sake, Satoru.”

“Not even if drinks are on me?” Gojo-sama offers with a little smirk playing on his lips. Now you’re the one shaking your head, a hint of a twinkle in your eyes. They may be authority figures in their own rights, but they all have their own vices, you suppose. They probably don’t expect to be the greatest role models to the students, and perhaps these are behaviors or habits of theirs they keep shielded from the impressionable youth as much as possible.

“Yes, not even after that,” Shoko deadpans, her expression serious. That’s a sign to take to heart, and Gojo backs off. Smart move. “I need to cut back.”

“Such a shame,” Gojo pouts, before grinning wide at you as Shoko takes her leave. With that fucking devastatingly beautiful smile of his that seems to just hide so much deep-seated loneliness that you can’t believe people are outright refusing his offers. Oh, curse you and your tendency to give people the benefit of the doubt (even if they have continually shown you reasons not to, but right now Gojo doesn’t appear to fit that description). “Guess that just leaves you and me.”

“So it does,” you reply with a lazy smile. The last thing anyone wants to feel like is an obligation, and you don’t want to make anyone feel like that; you’ve known what that’s like with past friendships yourself. Honestly, you still aren’t sure why you’re making a point in accompanying him. But you also feel like it’s just basic decency as a person. As a participant in the human experience overall, if you must go so far as to say so.

No one wants to be lonely, not even a guy as boisterous and annoying as Satoru Gojo. (Even if you don’t personally find him as such like the others do.) With a life like his, that seems to keep him on some higher plane of existence as everyone else around him, that must keep him feeling isolated from everyone else. That doesn’t feel good no matter how much someone likes being powerful.

There is a thought that keeps popping up in your mind with each exchange you share with Satoru Gojo.

Is his status all that is cracked up to be for him?

Is he lonelier than he would ever admit to anyone in his life? Even to you–or anyone else in his life he ever considered close to his heart?

Doesn’t he wish he could drop the act and show people who he really is, or is he already so accustomed to the icy cold backhanded slap of rejection that he may as well play into the role jujutsu society imposed on him?

There’s so much more you want to know about Satoru Gojo, but you don’t know if you’re jumping into things too quickly. It’s already been a few months, but you still feel out of the loop in a lot of aspects. The more you get acquainted with everything and everyone around you, you find the less you truly understand or truly know much of anything. When Ijichi takes you under his wing for training, you’re not sure how to utilize your own cursed energy–what little you believe you have of it. But Ijichi reminds you–that you are more powerful than you think you are–after all Gojo insists that you might be better off labeled as Grade 2 or Grade 1 with the potential your cursed technique has.

Should you take his words to heart, though? Better not to let it get to your ego (however little you have).

“Hey,” Gojo waves his hand in front of your face. “You kind of zoned out for a little bit there–everything good?”

“Oh!” You blink owlishly; you have been lost in your mind a lot lately huh? “Yeah! I”m okay. So what are we doing now?”

“I wanted to ask if you’ve seen any progress with your cursed technique,” Gojo replies like he’s been reading your mind, but you doubt that’s how the Six Eyes technique of his works. Maybe it’s just a hunch or a feeling he’s got and he just happens to be right about what you’ve been drifting off into thought about in that small pocket of time.

“Er…don’t you ever check in with Ijichi-san?” you inquire in a wobbly tone. You honestly have not been keeping as much track of your progress as you should have been… you didn’t expect to be quizzed on it like this so soon but then again…maybe you should have.

“Of course I do!” Gojo scoffs, “I just can’t hear your perspective? I want to know what you think and you forget I’m here to help you out too if you’re not sure what you’re doing.”

You shake your head. “I really have absolutely no idea what I’m doing with any of this! All I can do right now is create veils, and that’s as far as it goes right now.”

“Hey! That’s still progress,” Gojo insists with a thumbs up. “I mean, did you have any exposure to anything related to jujutsu before all of this?”

Another shake of your head. Nope. You’re pretty much fresh meat in regards to any of this, and from what you understand, sorcerers themselves are extremely rare breeds of humanity. You are stunned to see how small the classes in both Tokyo and Kyoto are.

“See?” Gojo beams at you so wide the corners of his eyes crinkle. “It may be slow progress, but it’s still progress.”

You laugh at that bit. “You actually sound like a real teacher, Gojo-sama.”

“Come on, you know I told you that you don’t have to call me that,” he counters, “We may be working together, but we’re friends too, remember?”

You bite into your cheek as you chew on a proper response.

“Are you not my superior?” you point out not in an accusatory way, but isn’t it not too intimate to do something like that? After all, it’s already feeling too intimate for you to be calling Ijichi ‘Ijichi’ or ‘Ijichi-san,’ but he’s also insisting on disregarding formalities. Maybe you are too much of a stickler for the traditions, but it’s mostly out of respect for everyone here. After all they have gone through experiences and trials and tribulations you have yet to experience yourself. You have so much to learn from all of them.

“I mean, yeah! But that doesn’t mean you have to get all formal. You’re not with Shoko!” he reflects for a moment, then adds: “Or Ijichi or Nanami!”

“Okay, okay! Fine, I’ll work on it, Gojo.”

“Oh, come on. I”m working so hard to make you comfortable around here.”

“I’m just trying to respect your authority, Gojo,” you counter with a smile. Gojo just stares at you for a few moments before surrendering.

“Fine, fine. I’m just saying. It’s not necessary, you know? You’re not a student or anything either. At least, you’re not mine .”

“But I am still learning a thing or two from you and Ijichi,” you remark, “And Principal Yaga especially.”

“Still, since you’re so new to all of this, don’t expect anything to happen overnight, you know? Not everyone can be me, I guess,” he scoffs again, rubbing his nose and you find yourself rolling your eyes in jest. Yeah, there it is. That (honestly warranted) self-confidence.

Most everyone around him finds it obnoxious, but you can’t help but find it refreshing. A lot of people are afraid of keeping that flame burning inside them, but he isn’t. People always want to play small to make others comfortable but he’s not interested in that, not necessarily in the way someone expects.

Satoru Gojo is an instructor, first and foremost, and the goal of an instructor is to mold his students to become stronger, faster, and better versions of themselves–in fact he has stated on several occasions to you that he wants them all to surpass him. Because one day he’s not going to be here just like anyone else, and since he’s also not shy about droning on and on about how he wants to reset and reshape jujutsu society as it stands now, he channels all of his energy into this one singular goal.

You can’t help but admire him for that kind of dedication, that kind of passion. You are curious what made him choose this kind of path because if you had to be honest with yourself, Gojo doesn’t seem the teaching or Sensei type. Far too lax, far too easy going and goofy. But maybe the students need a personality like that. Still, he deserves something where he can really let loose and not lose so much sleep over. (Yes, you have caught wind about his wild sleep schedule that would put most soldiers to shame.)

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind, Sensei ,” you tease with a little smirk twitching on your lips as he appears aghast at that address. Just pouting like some petulant child who’s just been denied his favorite snack. “So seriously, since it’s just us, what’s the plan for today? I don’t have much going on, so you better make this worth my time.”

Of course you mean it in jest. You don’t plan to bail on him, not when you’ve already made it a point to yourself that you aren’t going to leave him hanging. Even everyone else has made some remark about how ‘brave’ you’re being just enduring extra time with Gojo, but you don’t view it that way at all. You might be the odd one out here, but thus far you just don’t get it.

The big deal, you mean.

He finally speaks up again.

“Come on, seriously? I’m going to have to beat Gojo or Sensei out of your system. You’re a student in a way, sure, but like I just told you, you’re not my student, you know?”

You hide your smirk into your palm. “Whatever you say…”

In spite of himself, he’s smiling at your antics, and that’s really your only goal. Just like he gives everyone else a hard time all on purpose, you’re returning that energy, and the good news is that he doesn’t seem to mind it all that much. That’s progress more than anything, right? Here you are, doing a better job at adjusting to your new environment than you expected to be doing, and he’s honestly made this new life a lot easier for you too–even if he doesn’t know it just yet.

Actually, why not change that right now?

“Gojo, I um…” you start a bit tentatively before you break into a fit of giggles again at his melodrama. “Seriously, thank you.”

He raises an eyebrow at that as he adjusts his blindfold. “What for?”

“Making me feel like part of the group,” you answer, “You work really hard to make sure I don’t feel left behind, and I just appreciate it. That’s all.”

He looks at you like he’s in a bit of a daze before shaking himself out of his stupor. He probably doesn’t get recognized for his efforts enough; teachers are an underappreciated profession in every aspect of life, it seems like, even in the world of jujutsu.

“It’s kind of, you know, basic human decency and all,” he reasons, but somehow he keeps an even tone with an underlying layer of playfulness. “Plus that’s kind of my job too, or at least part of it.”

”So what?” you challenge him, but you don’t mean to in a negative way. “That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be recognized for something like that.”

”For doing the bare minimum?” he nearly scoffs at that notion, but you do catch him smiling a little, which is the goal here. “All right, whatever you say, Princess.”

”Princess?” you repeat, your lips curling into a little bit of a pout. This time it’s you raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t realize I gave off that vibe.”

”A vibe of…?” he beckons you to finish that statement for him.

”Spoiled rotten?” you try to fill in the blanks with the first thing that pops in your mind and he once again looks aghast that that is the first thing you would even consider! “Bratty? Mean?”

”No! You don’t act like that at all,” he counters, a hand over his heart as you feel his eyes scanning you through his blindfold. “You give Pretty Princess vibes, though.”

”Pretty Princess, huh?” Is he just trying to flatter you or wiggle his way out of something else?

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “You’re pretty. I thought you’re aware of that fact.”

”Am I?” Your gaze flits to your feet as they shift, his words settling in. He does sound genuine. You have to admit—you don’t get called that often, or at all as far as you remember.

”You are,” he insists, poking your cheek, brushing the tip of his finger along your skin. “You should really believe that a little more, you know? Being humble is so out these days.”

”Of course Satoru Gojo would say something like that,” you snark back with a roll of your eyes. “But that is sweet.”

”Well yeah, I’m Satoru fucking Gojo, and what I say is definitely law,” he retorts with a playful smile twitching on his lips again.

“Weren’t we supposed to be doing something?” you remind him after a beat of silence, and Gojo hums in thought after he mulls over what you might have meant by that.

“If you want, I could help you train today. Ijichi’s working with Itadori and Nanami right now with something…” he trails off, “Unless you’d rather do something fun instead, like I could show you some of my favorite places with all of the best sweets in the world!”

”I think we should train first, Sensei ,” you reply, “I’ve been slacking and I want to make sure I can make my veils actually last long enough.”

”Oh for fuck’s sake, I told you—I’m not your Sensei at least.”

”Uh huh,” you quip, “But you know what, you’re right, you’re not my Sensei because people might assume you’re trying to fraternize with a student because you just admitted you think I’m pretty.”

”Or I was just merely making an obvious statement,” he insists, “You just happen to have a hard time believing that you are with the way you carry yourself. Easy to tell when someone doesn’t know who they are or what they want, you know?”

“Oh, and I suppose then that means you’re an expert at that kind of thing?” you probe while batting your eyelashes.

Gojo nods, “Of course! That’s my whole role in society after all.”

“Is it?” You scoot in closer to him, ignoring the way your heart is racing beneath your breasts as your nose barely brushes against his. His Infinity is down with you, and his skin does feel so soft just from that. “Then enlighten me, Gojo. Is this going to help me perfect my cursed technique if I have a better sense of identity or of my desires in life?”

“Well yeah,” Gojo starts, but you do catch him faltering slightly, likely from the sudden proximity. “I mean, knowing who you are and what sets you off is a major key in harnessing your cursed energy. I mean, cursed energy is all about keeping your emotions in check. Cursed energy is primarily negative energy so learning how to channel that energy into something against a spirit is important. And you know, low self esteem counts as negativity and that can cause curses to spawn. I mean, didn’t you hear about Okkatsu and how he cursed a normal girl because he didn’t want her to die? Curses can come from both sorcerers and non sorcerers. Until Okkatsu, all we knew was that curse spirits are often a manifestation of non sorcerer cursed energy…”

You nod along as he rambles on. “Uh huh. So how does someone go about managing their negative feelings then?”

“Well, I remember helping Itadori out by having him watch a bunch of terribly boring or annoying movies,” he explains as taps his finger against his chin. “We could do that but I think you need something a little more advanced than that. Like I mean you already seem to have a good handle on your emotions since you’re spending all of this time with me and you seem more charmed than irked by my presence.”

”Why would I be irked by your presence?” you interject, “I didn’t give off that vibe to you, did I?”

“I may be the world’s strongest sorcerer but that doesn’t earn me brownie points in popularity,” he admits, but he’s acting like it doesn’t affect him when it likely definitely does. “Even Megumi gets easily ticked off at me and I’m raising the kid.”

You huff at that. “I mean, you know what they say, Gojo. You could be the juiciest peach, and there’ll still be someone who doesn’t like peaches. So who cares!”

”And Megumi definitely doesn’t like peaches,” he snorts with a shake of his head.

”Oh, please. Don’t say that!” you retort with a playful shove to his shoulder. “He adores you. Kind of like how he behaves like he’s annoyed by Itadori all the time but he didn’t want him to die for a reason.”

“A fair point, m’lady.”

“First Princess, and now m’lady?” you tease, “Come on, this is getting ridiculous.”

“Alright, alright!” Gojo surrenders while clasping his hands together. “Okay, so are we training or what?”

“Of course,” you reply, “Just tell me where we can start and then as a reward for staying consistent, we can go grab all of those sweets you keep talking to me about, because now I can’t stop thinking about them.”

Gojo laughs, “Deal.”

It’s not outright obvious to anyone or even you at first, but Gojo has been tagging along with you wherever you went like an over excited little puppy dog. He behaves more like your guard dog in much more public areas though. You don’t mind his constant shadow at first, thinking it as a nice refreshing change of pace after spending most of your time in solitude. It can either be comforting or it can be suffocating. But you don’t find Gojo suffocating, not like how everyone else seems to.

And maybe he has taken that to heart, which is another thing about him you don’t find yourself minding. Clearly, he just hasn’t been used to someone actually actively wanting to be around him after who knows how long since you waltzed into Satoru Gojo’s world and maybe a part of you finds it flattering that he enjoys your company so much.

“Hey,” Gojo stops you while you’re strolling side by side down a street with many jewelry, makeup, or designer clothing stores down the strip. “Didn’t you say you needed to restock on some makeup?”

A record breaks in your mind. Say what now? He actually listens to your mindless ramblings? Why are you so shocked every time someone pays attention to you, especially someone as esteemed as Satoru Gojo? Moreover, why are you still gawking at him like he’s just sprouted three extra heads?

You blink once at him. Then twice. You glance up at the store he’s stopped you for and your breath hitches. A Sephora, huh? Is he sure about this? What is he even thinking about, splurging so much money on you like it’s not a big deal to him? Your eyes scan the rows upon rows of various brands you have only watched Youtube influencers review and can only dream of owning yourself. The Dior row is especially calling out to you like a siren in the Dead Sea.

This is so dangerous… you pout, gaze flitting between Gojo and the entrance to the store. Your gaze lingers on the Dior aisle once more. You long for some of those lip oils. Or their blushes even if a lot of influencers have admitted they suck for their price points…

“Yeah, but…” you trail off, frowning as you peek through the windows, fearing for the total costs if you actually do follow up on his offer. “Their stuff is usually out of my budget.”

A brief silence stretches over the two of you. You’re about to turn but he stops you, grabbing your wrist, and you glance up at him through your lashes.

“Don’t sweat it. I got it,” he offers with a small smirk, pushing the door open for you and your feet stop you just short of entering the store.

“Seriously,”—he places an arm on your shoulder—“I got it.”

“I can’t pay you back,” you reply, biting on your lip.

“You don’t have to. Come on,” he declares as he grabs your wrist, yanking you inside. The dozens of stares falling on the two of you make your heart flutter but it’s probably not you they’re really paying attention to. In fact you’re absolutely positive it’s probably because of Gojo. He’s a show stopper in a lot of ways. Maybe they’re gawking at how tall or handsome he is, how shock snow white his hair is. Wondering what shade his eyes are beneath his blindfold that he wears all the time.

Wondering what he’s doing with a puny little thing like you in a cosmetics store. Maybe they’re all wondering if you’re a couple and he’s just your sweet patient boyfriend humoring your love for cosmetics.

As if you can ever be with someone as untouchable as Satoru Gojo. You can only dream of being with someone like him, someone so otherworldly and ethereal and practically regarded as some kind of Messiah.

Gojo stands close to you, and you observe him. It’s hard to figure out what anyone’s thinking without seeing their eyes. You wonder how his Six Eyes must be unbearable for him a lot of the time that he has to wear a blindfold.

As if he senses you staring, he peels his blindfold back and hums as if lost in thought.

“I think you talked about loving lipstick the most, right? What brand do you like to wear? Gucci? YSL?” he inquires idly while lifting his blindfold; he scans the aisles before walking toward one of the more expensive luxury brands you can never hope to afford a first time around already. You grab his elbow and stop him in place, and he peers down at you, those blue eyes appearing to admit a kind of glow.

“I can’t afford to wear any of those!” you protest, flabbergasted, “Can we just stick to the mid-range priced items? You really don’t have to buy me anything!”

“You can now! So name the brand and we’ll look at it, yeah?” he retaliates with a goofy grin that is convincing enough to let him win you entirely over. This is not something you can easily accept from anyone! Not even him! Especially not him! It feels all kinds of wrong to you if you can’t return the favor in any way and you know you can’t. He knows you can’t either and he’s doing this anyway all because he wants to. There is no hint of obligation or feeling like he has to repay you for spending so much time with him.

You almost want to shrivel up and die in that very moment, but he’s being kind of pushy and you don’t really know why. It’s not like you can’t go get makeup at some affordable drugstore, and he can just pay for those, something you can easily return the favor for with enough time.

You’re not all that picky. And you know one taste of luxury is going to have you hooked for life . There’s no going back.

Although, like you have been fantasizing about already, you have been dying for anything from Tom Ford or YSL or Dior…

You drag out a sigh as you weigh out your options.

“You’re not going to let me get out of here until I let you buy me things, aren’t you?” you inquire in a flat tone.

Gojo’s still grinning ridiculously and you kind of hate how cute he looks getting all giddy at the prospect of spoiling a friend just because.

“Now you’re getting it! So seriously, what are we feeling?” he asks again, that stupid grin of his unmoving.

Yet you find it more endearing than annoying like everyone else seems to…

“Slow down,” you reply. He relaxes his grip on your wrist and you release it. You don’t miss that unreadable expression flashing in a nanosecond. “There have been some shades I’ve been needing. But we are not going overboard here. Do you understand?”

“Yes ma’am,” he answers almost robotically with a mock salute. You fight the urge to roll your eyes.

You lead him to one of the Dior aisles where a classic red lip shade catches your eye. You have two defaults, and you don’t need too much makeup: a flattering red lip for an occasion and a flattering nude shade for everyday is really all you’re going to need in this department. Then you know you need the rest—new foundation, new concealer, mascara, etc. etc.

And since Gojo is being so pushy you may as well take advantage of the opportunity. Even if does feel all kinds of wrong in your soul you know he’s not letting you get off that easily. So you decide to reframe it this way: you’re really only allowing this because Gojo’s resolve about this isn’t going to budge.

“Oh! This shade is gorgeous,” you muse out loud as you pry one of the tester red lipsticks and grab one of the free lip applicators to test the color on your lips. You glance around for a mirror and find one just down the aisle, pouting your lips into it as you assess the shade you chose. You hum in thought.

Then you turn to Gojo, who’s keeping a fair distance but watching your every move.

“Do you like it?” you inquire, pointing to the shade painting your lips.

“It’s nice,” he replies, “Totally evens out, um, your complexion!”

You giggle into your hand. He’s trying , which is better than most men who have ever walked into your life. Most of them think makeup is fake or stupid or pointless or just plain lying. Then in the same breath claim they like a natural girl but most of them don’t understand what a natural girl looks like.

Gojo seems a smidge less ignorant about that kind of thing though. Just a smidge.

“C’mere,” you declare as you gesture with a come hither motion. He obliges, and you have to prop yourself up on your tippy toes just to reach his cheek, where you smack your lips against. A bold move, perhaps, but he deserves it for all of this generosity he apparently isn’t known for at all amongst his colleagues.

“How ‘bout now?” you ask with a sultry purr, fluttering your lashes. Which both definitely feel naked. You love mascara. They definitely need a good mascara… something both lengthening and volumizing, perhaps? You haven’t been exploring much in that regard…

“It’s perfect ,” he purrs smoothly, not skipping a beat. He doesn’t even bother wiping off the stain and it’s not like you two are an item or something. You just want to give something back. “Aren’t you going to try more shades?”

You deflate, flushing a little at that as you twiddle your fingers. Oh, he sounds a little too interested now. Should you back off?

You pull back. Absently you run your tongue around your teeth as you eye your reflection. Oh wow, this shade kind of makes your teeth look way whiter so you’re definitely snagging it. This really is so dangerous and it’s not fair hat Gojo is making you go through with committing such a sin. Grabbing a basket and tossing the tube of lipstick into it while swiping a makeup remover wipe from a nearby dispenser and cleaning the color off. Gojo snags the basket out of your hands.

“Hey!” you protest again with another pout of your lips. There’s some blotches of leftover lipstick you missed but Gojo can’t help but find it cute. Almost a complete idea of what those pretty lips of yours might look like when he’s the one kissing the color off and not some damn makeup remover.

“I got it,” he insists, keeping the shopping basket just out of your reach. “You enjoy more shopping, alright?”

Your eyes begin to twinkle and you don’t notice that Gojo’s heart must have skipped a beat in that moment.

“Can we window shop at the designer stores here too?” you beg him eagerly, eyes sparkling like a child winning a plush toy in a claw machine.

“Yeah,” he breathes in reply, composing himself. “Anything.”

You’re not paying attention to him now as you’re already sprinting to check out the mascaras you’ve seen online and can only dream of owning yourself. This is already more power you can ever hope to have!

You snag the one you hear is best for your kind of lashes.

But you find yourself scattering around all of the aisles but don’t buy that many things out of common decency. Even if someone like Gojo comes from a lot of money, it isn’t right. You just can’t help it though. He’s given you a taste already and you wish you could buy with your own money but that’s not a reality for you. You are going to allow yourself to indulge just this one time and then never again. As nice of a gesture it is from Gojo, you have not been raised a leech, and you’re not going to take advantage of someone’s generosity like that. So you give yourself an item limit but that doesn’t stop you from trying all of the samples of makeup and swatching the colors, asking for Gojo’s opinions and he tries to seem interested which is the nicest thing he could do for you.

All while you’re browsing, Gojo hangs back just to observe you. Admiring how lost you get in such a simple hobby to him and probably to everyone else.

You just don’t realize how much he is truly paying attention to you. How much he wants to know more and more about you. Your likes. Your dislikes. What makes your eyes keep shining like that like they are here.

Snapping discrete photos of the things you eye with longing but don’t toss into the basket for future reference.

You test another lipstick shade in another brand aisle, then test it on Gojo’s cheek like you did before. A classic nude shade is something every girl needs, you tell him, and that’s all for the lipsticks.

Once you grab all of your essentials you don’t even dare to so much glance at the receipt and neither does Gojo. Tossing it into the trash as soon as you both walk out.

“So you don’t try to return anything out of guilt,” he explains with a little wink. “So, you still want to check out those designer stores?”

“Yes! Can we go to Chanel?” You clasp your hands together, doing your best to contain the fact that you may be a little too excited.

“Of course,” Gojo replies easily once again, “Anything.”

“I’m not buying anything! I just want to look,” you remind him as your hands rest on your hips, chin slightly raised. “You got me enough.”

You gesture to the bag he’s clutching with that huge hand of his, you can’t help but point out to yourself. And dang, you never have noticed before how long his fingers actually are…

He follows your gaze, before glancing back at you and you catch onto what is a bit of a judgy stare in that he’s such a fucking nepo baby way.

“There’s not even 10 items in here!” he argues with a fret.

“Yeah but you forget my budget isn’t usually made for these items. You got me enough. Way more than enough,” you assure him, “Trust me. Let it go, Gojo. I let you buy me stuff already.”

“Fine, fine, waving the little white flag,” he quips while wagging a finger. “Now come on, we still have a whole day since that mission was cut short for us and the students.”

“Alright, alright. Bossy,” you tease while flashing him a little smile and then planting another kiss on his cheek. Where this time he leans in completely prepared for. “Thank you, Gojo. You really didn’t have to. But this isn’t happening again.”

“Fine,” he relents, sagging his shoulders; he’s saying so to your face at least. You don’t know what he’s plotting behind that blindfold. But you choose to take his words at face value to spare him some dignity.

You beam at him again, grabbing his free hand and leading him to the closest designer store. The same cycle continues. Your eyes twinkle like brilliant little galaxies upon the endless choices but you know you can’t really have them and you emphasized to Gojo again as you waltzed into the store together that you won’t let him buy anything more for you.

But you still let yourself loose! Putting on a little fashion show for him. You grab an item you wish you could have for yourself. This piece feels vintage and soft, delicately crafted and sophisticated like everything else in these stores. You strike a few poses in front of a tall mirror and Gojo just watches idly on the sidelines as you enjoy yourself. Sometimes still capturing little snippets of you unguarded and you haven’t the slightest clue as you’re living out what you can only define as your dream life. These might make beautiful candids in his office or somewhere more private in his estate, but you have no idea he’s thinking that right then. You’re too busy having the time of your life. Grinning madly like you’re alight and carefree and you look absolutely stunning.

And you don’t know that it’s absolutely killing him . It’s maddening, how well you flaunt yourself like this, like you’re dangling yourself in front of him, all his for the taking.

You don’t know how he wants to bend you over and blow your back out in the middle of this fucking store, in the middle of the mall, in the back parking lot, or the parking deck. Anywhere. Everywhere. But you’re not his yet, but you’re dangling yourself in front of him like a tempting sin and he can’t take it.

Not his mind, his body, his heart, his soul, and definitely not his aching cock straining through his boxers.

It doesn’t seem like you notice either as you stride up to him, stars in your eyes as you show him another bag before putting it back.

“Are we going to the other stores? Are you getting bored?” you ask, looking very much like you’re bouncing off the walls. Much like him when he’s consumed way too much sugar.

“Of course. Anything,” he replies immediately repeating the same damn line but not before glancing away. “I have to take a quick trip to the washroom first. Do you want to grab a bite to eat too?”

You nod, following him out. You take the bag he was holding and wait for him by the restrooms.

Thank God, you’re out of his line of sight for the moment. And the stalls are empty. Doubly thank God . No one has to watch someone as esteemed as Satoru Goio (not that the mortal world would know anything at all about someone like him) fist a few just because he can’t control himself. What is he, some kind of hormonal schoolboy? What the fuck! He’s got more class than this!

Resorting to something like this…

It’s unbecoming. So very unbecoming of a man known to be the strongest in this physical and metaphysical world.

He can be quiet about all of this, even still. He just…

He just needs to take care of this before he loses his fucking mind and takes you for himself.

(Maybe he might have already been plotting how to do that. To shield you from a world who only looks at you one way and no other way.)

On some occasions, Shoko joins you and Gojo when he wants a little company. Shoko has said before that she considers him dear even if she playfully declares he’s trash like any other man. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t make time for him, though. Especially when there’s alcohol involved and she doesn’t have to worry about paying those ridiculously expensive tabs.

You have gotten used to going out with them on work nights (which is honestly every night with Gojo, at least), and you have come to realize his expectations each time. This time you have gotten some pointers on how to make yourself a bit more put together with these transitions from Shoko and you can’t be more grateful. You haven’t delved into the world of beauty all that much before this, mostly because you’ve had no reason to and you only stuck to the bare basics, but now you have a bit more of a social life than you once had.

And maybe you want to catch Gojo’s eye in another way and not just in terms of your potential as a sorcerer.

You glance over your shoulder, frowning as you take note that Gojo has yet to pop out into the front schoolyard where you planned to meet together before driving off. The nighttime air is crisp but a bit nippy; you’re scrunching your nose each time you feel a feathery light gust of wind tickle your face, and the thick layer of foundation you beat all over your face to death with a beauty sponge isn’t doing you many favors in the world of uncomfortable sensory feelings. A part of you wants to claw your face off because you’re not used to full glam looks, even if this is a softer glam look. You prefer the light every day getup, ‘no makeup makeup’ or whatever these trendy girls call it, you wish you were as cool and trendy as they are but you feel like you fall behind on what’s cool all the time.

You twist back around while admiring Shoko with stars in your eyes. God, you have so much inner work to do yourself! She seems to know everything about how to bring out your best self and she embodies an absolute goddess in your eyes. She’s an ethereal presence. Her chestnut brown hair flowing down to her buttocks, her slim figure and her heart shaped face are all downright enviable. She can have anyone she wants, and she probably knows it too.

Man, what you’d give for confidence like hers. Gojo does have a point from before–a negative self image is no good and can interfere with your progress as a sorcerer yourself. Even if you’re not all that interested in power scaling, you still want to be able to protect the students and yourself when the situation calls for it.

Shoko calls your name, and you snap back to reality, blinking owlishly as she lights herself another cigarette to burn through–how many of those has she had in one day already? Is she one of those types to smoke entire packs within a night or a whole 24 hours? It’s not like they’re actually going to kill her or anything from what you understand about reverse cursed technique, but that doesn’t mean destroying your body over and over just for the shits and giggles.

“Why do you go hang out with Gojo without another thought?” Shoko asks you out of the blue as you grow increasingly impatient waiting for Gojo to get here–he’s probably working on wrapping up some things for future missions this week or something–and you purse your lips as you shrug off her question.

“Everyone needs a friend,” you decide is your simple response. Shoko stares blankly at you but you remain firm in your answer. You don’t believe it needs any further elaboration. And technically, it really shouldn’t. You’re just not that kind of girl. The kind to just take advantage of someone just because you can get away with it. There’s nothing “in it” for you at all. Stripping away all of your layers, you’re truly just a simple girl at your core.

But for some reason, Shoko doesn’t buy that answer right away.

“Really? Are you absolutely sure about that? Is there something in it for you?” she prods, and of course you’re right on the money of her being unsure, but her tone isn’t accusatory or anything—she’s just trying to seek an understanding of your motives and truthfully you have none. Nothing outright malicious or self-motivating, anyway, like she likely suspects. “Don’t get me wrong. Satoru’s a dear friend of mine but he usually bribes me with drinks or the nicer cigarettes when I’m not particularly interested in doing something with him involved.”

“No,” you declare, once again, with full confidence, swiping a pocket mirror from your clutch and pouting your lips, touching up on your lipstick which has already smudged off a bit. It’s a nude shade that complements your features; you’re still a student when it comes to these things but the tips Shoko has offered you for a more “office appropriate” look has helped plenty. Besides, Gojo has bought you all of those nice luxury brands that are typically so out of your budget; why not put them to daily use like you should so they don’t go to waste and expire because you’re too afraid to use such nice things?

You recall all of those suggestions of hers—a medium-buildable coverage skin tint, a natural, luminary blush, two mascaras that separate, lengthen, thicken, and hold your curls without getting too clumpy or smudge throughout the day. All put together with a soft glam eye shadow look. It’s perfect. The girl’s a fucking genius at this stuff.

“Then why?” Shoko prods again, a little too insistently. You wonder why the fuss. Just like she must wonder why the fuss! Is Gojo that bad of a person to be around because you genuinely haven’t gotten that vibe? If anything else, he’s become a comfort to you. You have been kind of used to being alone too. It doesn’t feel as sad as it sounds, not like how it must feel for Gojo.

You try not to seem a little dejected by the fact that Shoko is suspicious of you. It’s not like she knows you well, though…

“Because it’s like I just said, everyone needs a friend! The kind of friend who doesn’t want anything from them in return, or at least doesn’t expect it,” you continue to her after stashing the tube of lipstick and pocket mirror back into the Chanel clutch you still are absolutely positive Gojo sent you after your last outing together. “He just, I don’t know. He seems kind of… I don’t know. Alone. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

“We hardly have the time for our own struggles,” Shoko remarks, turning away with a wistful expression. “Why do you think I smoke so much?”

“Maybe that’s the problem with all of you guys,” you point out, not meaning to try to read people to filth here or anything like that as you’re fluffing your hair a little bit. You’re just starting to see a pattern. Ugh, these fucking flyaways! How does Shoko’s hair always look so perfect even in these conditions? That’s something else to ask advice about from her later… “You guys are too caught up in your own lives to notice what’s going on right in front of you. I’m not saying that to call anyone out; it’s just the way everyone’s wired, anyway. Human nature and stuff. We are too busy worrying about ourselves to worry about everyone else all the time. if we did that then we can’t live our damned lives, and that just can’t do. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try to remind the people in your life that you care about them.”

Shoko frowns in response to that, burning through her current cigarette which is already halfway gone. Bits of ashes drop unceremoniously to the ground as she puffs out some smoke, mulling over your words, and something flashes in her eyes, like she’s flipping channels of so many memories in her mind but for some reason you doubt it involves Gojo and probably some other people she considers close to her.

“That’s a fair point, I guess,” she grunts, her eyes flashing again with something–something like grief or regret ? Over what? Do you pry or just keep it to yourself?

“Is there something I’m missing about Gojo?” you finally demand of her, your tone thick with curiosity as ever like you’re trying to debug some kind of code. “You guys all keep rambling on about how he’s this peculiar character and yeah, I’m not denying it but what sorcerer isn’t a little crazy? Don’t you have to be in a profession like this, one where the majority of the population would write off as utter hocus pocus?”

Shoko processes more of your rapid fire questions before shrugging, taking another shot at her cancer stick between her fingers which is nearly gone now. She burns through those like Gojo burns through all those sugary foods he ingests practically every second of every day.

“Spend more time with him and find out,” Shoko answers, probably more flippantly than she intends to sound, flicking more ash off of her cigarette as a wry smile plays on those juicily glossed lips of hers. You almost want to pout at how she seems to have everything figured out for herself–from the way she carries herself to the way she shows up for herself too. Dark sultry eye makeup with a flawless makeup base and when she decks herself out, she decks herself out . You can’t recognize her sometimes outside of work when she’s having too much fun cutting up dead bodies and putting together autopsies or beautifying dead bodies or whatever else she does as a healer “It’s never a dull moment. Love the guy to death, but even I have my limits with him.”

“No one is easy to be around,” you admonish with a sigh. “Not even me. I know my shortcomings or at least the ones I’ve been made aware of thus far. With that kind of logic, you won’t have anyone around you.”

“That’s…also a fair point,” Shoko acknowledges with a nod, more bits of ashes dropping to the concrete below. “I guess I might have some reflecting to do. But you know, I have noticed Gojo becoming a little more relaxed these days. You’re probably why.”

“Oh, come on,” you giggle, hinting at a bit of uncertainty. “I’m just little old me.”

“And that might be someone Gojo needs,” she adds with a little wink, before her gaze flits to your purse. “You still haven’t made a guess on who’s been sending you these expensive gifts? Who else do you know likes to spend money without any regard for how much it is?”

You follow her gaze to the purse before shaking your head in response.

“Well of course I know it’s Gojo,” you admit bashfully as you ponder her other words. Gojo is a perfectly capable man who doesn’t rely on anyone. Surely he doesn’t need someone like you around, right? “No one else around here is made of money like he is. And I doubt someone like Gojo needs someone like me.”

“How can you be so sure?” she teases in a singsong tone. “I’m just saying—he clearly doesn’t hide the fact, either.”

You don’t really know how to respond or react to that. You aren’t going to deny it, not really. Gojo has been a lot more attentive with you than anyone else, and he’s known Shoko since they went to high school right here at Jujutsu Tech together. She has to know so much more about him than even she cares to know about Satoru Gojo and maybe there’s a part of you that wants to badger her for all of the information she might have on him for… reasons .

Hm. Maybe there is something in it for you, but you expect absolutely nothing regardless. You don’t want to be like those people who try to be someone’s friend just to get with them. That’s not really being someone’s friend. That’s being a total weirdo and no one wants to be that guy.

“I should say I also commend you for a character like yours,” Shoko admits after a moment of reflection–maybe she does have to check in with herself too more than you realize. There must be a lot she’s hiding from everyone too. “We don’t see authenticity like that around here these days so it’s probably a breath of fresh air for Satoru too.”

“I hope you’re not insinuating what I think you are, Miss Ie—I mean, Shoko,” you stammer as a blush rushes to your cheeks.

“I’m not insinuating anything,” she teases, pinching your cheek. “But it has been a while since Satoru has acted like this. Not since…” She holds off on finishing that thought, which again piques your interest but you don’t poke and prod the bear with the stick, and instead she settles with: “Yeah, not since a while.”

Your forehead wrinkles a bit as you ponder her words.

Now you’re only left in the dark much more than you already have been in the world of jujutsu sorcerers. You are still a fledgling yourself, yet right off the bat Gojo determines you should be bumped up to grade 2. Not only that but you learn that Satoru Gojo is something like a quasi-religious figure around here, possessing both the Limitless and Six Eyes cursed techniques which hasn’t been a thing for centuries, apparently. He’s the strongest special grade out there to exist, but he has admitted to you and to the higher ups that there are going to be many who surpass the special grade rank and by extension may surpass him. He expects that of Itadori, Fushiguro, and Okkatsu, in particular, but he hopes for that for the future generations as a whole.

Still, these don’t really fill in many blanks for you. You don’t understand why everyone’s got their reservations over Gojo; if anything, he’s so arrogant and haughty because he can back up his claims and that must grind everyone’s gears. To a certain extent you can understand the frustration everyone has with him, but that can’t be all there is to it. Then again, you have only been on Jujutsu Tech grounds for what, five months or something like that now, tops? You still have so much to see in how he interacts with the others. Other superiors, other colleagues, but with his students, they seem to enjoy his company… (well, at least Itadori seems to; the second years have a few choice words on how to describe him.)

“Did I leave you ladies waiting?” you hear a voice call out to the two of you.

Your head snaps up to find Gojo carrying dozens of bags hooked around all of his slender fingers. You can’t help but giggle at the sight because it reminds you of the times you did the same thing to spare you another trip to the trunk with all of your purchases.

“What’s all this?” you question with a smile. Gojo pauses before answering, as if a little taken aback by a change in you. Probably he’s noticed you put a little more effort to look more business appropriate, actually with a full face of (hopefully passable) makeup…

“You look lovely, I-I mean, as always, of course,” he coughs before he sets all of the bags aside. “And ah, I just tend to splurge a little. Stuff for the school, stuff for the students, stuff for me…”

“That’s sweet of you,” you comment before you cradle the Chanel clutch in both your hands and present it to him. “So does this mean you actually are the one responsible for this?”

Gojo’s face falls for a split second before bouncing back. “Did you not like the color choice? I still have the receipt and I can change it o—!”

—You raise your hand to cut him off.

“I only started using these because I have no idea if I should return these to you, but now I do,” you interject with a little chuckle. “If this is your way to thank me for hanging out with you all of those times, I don’t need an incentive for it, Gojo. I’m happy to hang out with you because we’re friends, aren’t we?”

Gojo beams at that. “Of course we are! Just, you know! Don’t worry about the gifts. Use ‘em or don’t—I just like giving gifts, and um, you deserve them, and stuff.”

“And stuff?” Shoko quips, shooting Gojo a look with a little wraggle of those perfectly groomed eyebrows of hers. Gods you’re so jealous of her effortless beauty. “Real suave, Satoru.”

“Like you know how to charm a girl’s pants off,” Satoru shoots back.

“I think we know who gets more pussy between the two of us,” Shoko deadpans.

You can’t help snorting at that. Why do people find this guy so off-putting? It honestly seems like he tries really hard to bring some light into the situation since life as a sorcerer is far from peaceful. If he finds you refreshing, then you find his character just as refreshing right back.

“Girl, yes, show ‘em,” you cackle into your hand. Shoko grins at your words of encouragement and Gojo’s posture slumps at that.

“No more expensive alcohol for you,” he huffs like an insolent toddler, folding his arms over his chest. Shoko doesn’t seem all that bothered, shrugging him off.

“I’ve been meaning to swear off that stuff anyway.” At some point between all of the silly banter she’s tossed the butt of her cigarette away and admits that she’s finished another pack.

“God, you really have to nip that nasty habit in the bud,” Gojo suggests with a sly little grin and a cock of his head. Shoko rolls her eyes.

“Cry me a river. We all have our thing. Mine’s smoking. Yours is sweets. One step at a time or whatever,” she answers, brushing her hair behind her shoulder. “Are you two ready to go?”

“Where do you plan to keep all of those bags?” you query, and Gojo’s eyebrows flash.

“I’ll take care of it,” he replies after considering your question. “Let me do that real quick, actually.”

Gojo strolls off with those items and returns just moments later with a thumbs up. Shoko has a look on her face that you almost want to call her out on but you decide to hold your tongue for the time being. You tap your foot on the earth beneath you as Gojo shuffles back to the two of you after storing away all of those various ‘goods’ he’s stocked up on that you can’t help but be a little curious about. Gojo tosses you a little grin and you find yourself grinning back, and as soon as that happens you can feel Shoko’s scrutiny seep deeper and deeper into your soul and you are absolutely tempted to call her out on it until Gojo speaks up.

“Okay, now I’m ready to go!” Gojo announces, his gaze fixing on you, which Shoko definitely takes into account as she’s still assessing you with that fucking look in her eyes that says ‘ nothing in it for you, huh? ’ “I was just kidding about the no expensive alcohol part, Shoko.”

“I figured,” Shoko chuckles, “Now stop eye fucking her and let’s go.”

You hide your face as it reddens an even darker shade, if that’s even possible at thai point.

“I-I was not!” Gojo blubbers and Shoko cackles back at his face as his posture slumps a bit again. Even if you're suppressing the urge to bust up laughing at his reaction, mostly because you do not expect it, acting like he’s been caught red handed doing something completely unforgivable.

“Uh-huh,” Shoko scoffs as she saunters off with the two of you following close behind her.

You catch Gojo sneaking a few glances at you. You don’t seem to mind that at all and are actually feeling your heart soar to the heavens. But you notice something else. Him inching a pinky toward yours. You try to bite back a little hint of a grin but fail, so you initiate, curling yours around his and you can hear the faintest sound of a contented sigh escape his lips.

Shoko’s back is still to the both of you, her hips flouncing as she walks like she has no care for the world what the two of you do. You hope you’re not giving her the impression that she’s the third wheel because it’s not like the two of you are together or anything like that. As far as you know. You have already written off the possibility of you and Gojo ever being a thing. He’s so far out of your reach but he seems happy being all touchy with you like he is your boyfriend and for some reason you don’t have an issue with that.

Well of course you don’t have an issue with that. This is the closest you’re ever going to get, and that’s perfectly all fine and good with you. Besides, you have reminded yourself that you’re not in it for yourself. Gojo is happy to have found some kind of comfort in you, and that’s your goal.

“Sheesh, Shoko’s too eager to get absolutely shitfaced on all that beer,” Gojo leans in and whispers into your ear. “But she has the strongest alcohol tolerance I have ever seen. Reverse cursed technique is pretty dang awesome once you get the hang of it, but it’s easier said than done. Took me forever to figure out how to use it.”

”Are you gossiping about me back there, Satoru?” Shoko accuses as she tosses her head over her shoulder.

“No ma’am,” he vows, “Just giving her the 411 on your drinking abilities.”

”So you’re admitting to gossiping, you useless shitstain,” Shoko snorts but she doesn’t seem to take it that seriously. You still aren’t sure what the dynamic is between them, but they do seem closer than everyone else here.

“Oops!” Gojo hollers back at her with a little snicker. “Keep walking those thick ass fucking thighs of yours so we can get to our ride, pissface.”

”Oh, that’s a new one! And you wish you had these thighs, fuckface!” Shoko shouts with her tone laced in sarcasm as they approach the parking deck. She refuses to allow Gojo to ‘warp’ them everywhere. You have yet to experience what that’s like. Having cursed techniques like Gojo’s must come with so many perks like getting to mimic flying and shit. You still are not sure what you can do with your techniques.

Now you’re practically in stitches at their exchanges. They’re riots around each other. Shoko’s not kidding about there never being a dull moment, but why does she say so with it laced with some negative connotations? There must be something you’re missing in this picture but you’re not putting two and two together. All you know is that you enjoy Gojo’s company and Gojo enjoys your company just as much, and just because everyone else keeps their distance doesn’t mean that you have to because you don’t find Gojo burdensome like everyone around you seems to. Maybe there’s something there, something where you have yet to scratch the surface and unravel, but who the hell knows?

As you follow Shoko, you don’t miss Gojo’s hand grazing your pinky now dropping to rest on the small of your back. You peer up at him with curiosity twinkling in your stare; what’s going on in his mind? Why’s he–? Suddenly that sharp prickle of goosebumps scatter across your arms as you catch onto some men staring you down around the block.

Your eyes flit to different areas of the street ahead once you exit Jujutsu Tech grounds; is he trying to make a statement, or something?

“Gojo?” you mutter, as you attempt to shy away from his touch. “No one’s going to try anything, you know?”

His mouth twitches as he glances down at you, slipping his hand away and allowing it to fall back to its side.

“Sorry,” he mumbles back, “You never know with men , you know? You can trust me on that one.”

Should you have paid closer attention you may have caught onto the fact that he might be calling himself out there. But you shrug off his behavior as you finally approach where Shoko parked her sedan in one of the parking garages, but Gojo’s still on high alert, scouting any potential threats like you’re easy prey or something.

You just give him one final curious glance before hopping into the backseat, Gojo deciding to join you back there. Shoko starts her car and pulls out of the parking area, not before making some quip to Gojo about something you have no context over, and neither bother to fill you in on the topic. It’s probably not something that concerns you anyway; you’re going to focus on a night out with your friends.

And they are your friends. You’re glad Shoko considers you as one, and that Gojo thinks of you as one. Even if it is still way too intimate to call him Satoru for some reason no matter how much he insists you absolutely can call him that. You really are adjusting to life here a little better than you think, and while the progress may be gradual, you have a feeling it’s just going to get better for you from here.

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taelophone · 2 days ago

Text

SUN MOON childhood enemy! Luigi x reader

Trigger Warnings ; bad ass kids . not entirely proofread cuz I just want this OUT of my drafts . awkward teens . google translate Italian. little Luigi speaks Italian .

taglist // masterlist

During the summer, life in Maryland was a time to enjoy the slow summer sun and the gentle kisses of the salty seaside breeze. Summer— and all her many flora and insecta children alike— brought forth comforting reminders that life gets better when you can tune out the distractions.

The sun was hot; his white and blinding rays of solar energy cast down on the little people below as they took his eternal radiance for granted. What would life be like without his overbearing and constant presence… Would it be dark? What would happen to our earth should he decide his love and life are no longer warranted in our solar system?

“Hey.”

A little voice was heard just a bit away from you while your hands caressed the green blades of grass between your fingers. Unfamiliar, but not quite authoritative…like a little boy who hadn’t yet experienced a stern talking to about tone and how to control it.

You tore your gaze away from the bright blue sky, your eyes adjusting to the bright atmosphere as you stared at the tanned boy with unruly cocoa-brown curls. He stood alone, unaccompanied by an adult or a group of young lackeys like in the Disney Channel movies.

“Hi…” you said, tilting your head at him and giving him a half-assed wave.

“What’s your name?” He asked, approaching you with a lack of caution that could only stem from precious youth.

You stared at him, scanning him with slight caution as he stood over you before telling you his name. His brows furrowed, a slight glint of disappointment in his eyes before his lips moved before he could think.

“That’s a weird name. I’m Luigi!” He said, sitting next to you on his knees.

Your brows pinched together, a brief look of shock and anger flashing at the stranger before you adopted an expression of confusion.

“Like the Mario character? That Luigi?” You asked, biting back a little giggle as he frowned at you.

“No! I’m Ee-tall-ean!” He disputed, his face scrunching up in disapproval as he shot you a glare from out the side of his eye. “Plus, my mommy says Luigi is the better brother.”

“No, he’s not…” you stated, rolling your eyes at his stupid comment.

“Yes, he is! My mommy said so!” He grumbled, pulling up patches of grass from the soil in a closed fist.

“It’s Mario. He’s the main character, plus he has a cooler mustache,” you sighed, fixing the skirt that pooled just above your knees as you took your eyes off Luigi.

“Yeah, but Luigi’s taller,” He argued, crossing his arms over his chest like he had made the best point in the world.

“Mario has all of his games…there’s not a game called Luigi,” you snickered, picking at the little ends of sticks and twigs.

He paused, evaluating your statement in his head with a rather impolite scowl. He didn’t yet know you, but your combative and dismissive nature seemed to set off bouts of anger in his stomach that left it feeling light and fluttery.

“Well, there’s Luigi’s mansion. That’s a great game!” He offered, picking up a little white dandelion and blowing its little white seeds into your face.

“Hey!” You half-shouted, rustling your hands over your head to try and clear any of the fuzzballs from your hair. “You’re mean, I’m telling!”

“Fine!” He pouted, watching as you charged off to your mother, who sat on the far end of the park.

You told her all about the mean boy Luigi, taking note of the pale woman with curly black hair who sat next to her. She sighed and fixed the funky bangles on her wrist before patting your shoulder with a kind smile.

“That sounds like my son. I’ll talk to him, sweetie. He should know better than to be mean to a sweet girl like you!” She chuckled, setting off across the grassy park to her son, who sat just a couple of feet away blowing the dandelions away.

You couldn’t hear a lot of what they were saying— or maybe looking back, you just couldn’t understand, but you heard the pretty woman’s stern voice talking to her son as his high-pitched one argued back.

“Ma mamma, non voglio chiederti scusa!”

It sounded like English but muffled with a slight twang in their words. Either way, you clung to your mom's knee while shuffling around the stray leaves on the ground before Luigi and his mom came marching back up towards you, his mother holding his little collar like he would run away at any given opportunity.

“I’m sorry…” he pouted, his brows pinched together in resentment as he stared at you with nothing but malice.

“aggiusta il tuo viso!” The woman murmured, raising one of her thick and dark brows at her son.

His face instantly softened, his expression morphing into one of slightly exaggerated remorse as he repeated himself with a little less confidence.

“I’m sorry for being mean to you…it wasn’t nice,” he murmured, looking down at the ground before his mom released her hold on him.

“Now hug it out,” she urged, scooting him over in your direction.

He pouted, a rather bratty sound emitting from the depths of his soul before he briefly threw his arm around your shoulder in an awkward side-hug. It wasn’t genuine by any means, but you leaned into it until he released you just as quickly.

“Don’t do it again,” she murmured, sitting back down on the bench by your mother and watching as Luigi toddled off.

That was the day you first met Luigi— the summer of two thousand and three. And since then, you had been relatively inseparable, but that wasn’t necessarily by choice or good relationship.

Your mothers had developed quite a sturdy relationship; when one of them decided to throw a little get-together, or Kathy’s husband decided to throw something on the grill, you would go visit Luigi and his two older sisters in their happy little home that always smelled like cinnamon and warm candles.

You made quick friends with his sisters, who you learned to be MariaSanta and Lucia, playing with them instead of their stupid brother. They were kind and didn’t seem to hold a deep vendetta against you for something that you didn’t do, so they proved to be better company than Luigi.

Your parents always laughed and joked about you being in love, swearing on everything that is holy that you’d grow up and have to be ripped from each other's bodies for you to do daily tasks like breathing. At seven, this was a repulsive idea.

I mean, he’s gross! He’s mean, he’s holding some stupid grudge against you because he was in a bad mood, and he’s overall just not good at playing Barbies, so you couldn’t see yourself ever entertaining the idea of him being cute.

“No, he’s kind of mean…I don’t know what I did, but he just doesn’t like me,” you sighed, sitting on Lucia’s bed while playing around with her new white Nintendo DS.

“He’s going through something…he’s not mean to me. He’s never been mean before, actually…” she said, pausing from braiding her life-sized doll's hair to pinch her brows together in silent thought. “I don’t know…he’s being weird.”

“Honestly, he’s just had beef with you for a while…he doesn’t shut up about you, and it’s annoying,” she sighed, her teenage angst setting in following her thirteenth birthday as she flicked her side bangs out of her face.

“Maria’s been talking to him about it, he’s just having a little attitude problem. Don’t feel bad, you didn’t do anything,” she reassured, chalking the hair of her blonde Barbie with the pink Hot Huez hair chalk before tossing it somewhere around her room.

She was so effortlessly cool— in a sort of angsty, moody, deep teen kind of way. It seemed as if all the Mangiones knew how to do was be intimidating and smart, as you were sure there was not one member of the family who didn’t radiate a composed and confident aura.

Seconds later, her older sister MariaSanta came slinking into the room, typing away on her white Motorola flip with her hair clipped back.

“Ehi, Ci, mamma dice che il Lu’ vuole andare al parco. Puoi portarlo?”

You watched as they conversed around you, Maria only briefly glancing up from her phone as Lucia became more avid on refusing whatever her sister was asking of her. You watched the two bicker back and forth in Italian, slowly slipping out of Lucia’s room when they began to raise their hands and increase in volume.

It’s probably better just to let them deal with that.

You roamed the halls of the Mangione household, stopping by in the kitchen to say hi to your mom and Ms. Kathy, who was in the process of making some sweet treat that you and the rest of the children could scarf down later. She slid you a bowl of some cut-up fruit- apples, pears, mangos, kiwi, and oranges as she chatted with your mother over a glass of deep red.

You sat at the table as you watched the many Mangiones come and go through the front and back door, each one offering you their tone and pitch of a polite greeting. Each bite of citrus was punctuated by a pot clattering, a rich laugh, a thump from upstairs, and very rarely, the sound of one of the three siblings upstairs losing their minds at whatever it was they were doing at the moment.

Soon enough, Luigi came skipping down the stairs in pursuit of something to quell his festering hunger before dinner. He shot you a glare, sticking his tongue out at you before approaching his mom with a contrastingly gentle smile.

“Mamma, posso avere qualcosa da mangiare?”

“English, baby, we have guests,” she urged, standing over the stove with a large spatula stirring up a pot full of sautéed onions and garlic.

“Can I have something to eat, please?” He murmured, his little accent biting at the ends of his words as he leaned over the counter.

“I just cut up some fruit, you’ll have to share with your friend,” she chuckled, pointing to the table you sat at with a light shrug. “And be nice. Your sisters keep telling me about your little attitude problem, and if you don’t fix it, I will.”

He groaned, stomped his little foot on the porcelain tiled floor before dragging his feet every step of the way to the fruit bowl. He sat as far away from you as he could while still reaching the fruit bowl, in other words, directly in front of you.

“Hi,” he stated, his tone ice cold as he snatched the bowl of fruit from your hands.

“Hey!” You huffed, slamming your hands down on the table with a deep frown. “I want some, too!”

“Luigi!” Kathy scolded, turning around to shoot her son a stern glare.

“Sorry…” he pouted, sliding the bowl back over to you before snatching a big handful of fruit.

You huffed, walking away from the table over to the living room and seeking refuge amongst the pile of cars and pretend kitchens that hadn’t received any love since the late nineties. The best thing you could do was avoid him, just like you had done since he hugged you in that little green park.

You would bicker and battle all day, fighting over not wanting to share fruit, who had more toys, how many fries you had to share when going to McDonald’s, and many insignificant things that seemed to be the world to a couple of seven-year-olds. It was only when you grew older, when your closet grew less pastel and sparkly, that you finally noticed a shift in Luigi’s behavior.

He was no longer combative and annoyed with your presence; in fact, he was quieter, his attitude became one of respect, and he had begun to treat you like somewhat of a family friend. When he wasn’t downstairs playing on his Xbox or talking his dear mother’s ear off about some sort of STEM program, he was holed up in his room doing whatever it was boys do.

There were no more snarls, petty sighs, or sharp eyes when you entered the same room as him. With time, you earned a quiet greeting from Luigi, usually in the form of a quiet “hey” or a brief nod.

Instead, a quiet hymn of respect slowly began to blend between the two of you, prompting you to spend just a little bit more time together than you normally would. During family trips, you’d find yourself a little more lost in his company while wordlessly wandering the wooded forests and noisy metal machinery at theme parks.

You never spoke much; there wasn’t much to talk about. Part of it was because neither of you knew what to say after being at each other's throats for oh so many years, but another part of you longed to acknowledge the heavy blanket of unspoken tension that had rendered your nascent relationship partially mute.

When you did speak to each other, you began to notice changes in yourselves that served as an example of the childish mannerisms that you packed away with maturation; everything about him was different. It was scary– like navigating a sailboat in the pitch-black night over murky waters.

His voice had slowly begun to slip down its slippery slope of puberty, and both of your faces had begun to shed their baby features. Luigi had grown into his big, bright babydoll eyes and his awkwardly lanky build, and you finally found an even balance in your voice that had become less brittle and tremulous.

As much as it pained you to admit, basking in the presence of post-reform Luigi sent blooms of pink and red flashing through your face. You even found yourself visiting the Mangione estate more often, always mindful of the fine line between a casual visit and deliberately finding ways to snag a glimpse of him for even two seconds.

For now, your bait of choice was a metallic pink iPod Lucia had lent you earlier this summer. Life seemed so simple as you hop, skipped, and pranced your way over to Auntie Kathy’s house for what surely was the millionth time in your life.

You trekked up the many wooden stairs, leaving your invisible mark on the glossy dark oak handrail as you set off in pursuit of Lucia to return her iPod. You skipped through the empty halls, your deep black Converse thunking dully against the floor as you turned the house upside down to find the pretty woman, checking her old bedroom, closet, bathroom, and the attic before sighing to yourself.

It had been a couple of years since she moved out, but she would still lounge around in her room every now and again, and you didn’t want to ask Luigi where she was because that would just be awkward. But if you didn’t return her things, Luci would get all pissy, and then she’d breathe down everyone’s back until she found what was rightfully hers.

You learned in that moment that life wasn’t that simple, and sometimes you have to do things that would make you feel smaller than any height difference ever could. Sure, you partially came to see Luigi, but you didn’t expect you’d have to go out of your way to interact with him…a small interaction in the hallway would have sufficed.

You sucked in a deep breath through your nostrils, letting the cold air dehydrate your nose before you plucked the metallic pink iPod from your back pocket and headed toward Luigi’s room. You suddenly felt a little self-conscious as you neared the entryway, smoothing over the wrinkles in your black and blue sweater and obsessing over the way your hair laid before knocking twice on his door.

“Come in.”

His voice was raspy and muffled, like the claws of an all-black bloodhound scratching at the metal bars of his cage. It trickled down your ears like cold water, pressing against your eardrum like a boulder of vibrant emerald.

You pushed open the door cautiously, taking in the slate blue walls, Mario Kart posters, the random KISS poster, and his relatively organized black desk as he sat on the floor playing his Xbox. He didn’t bother to look who was at the door, like a part of him just knew who was there.

”Did you need something?” He asked, lying down with his elbows planted on the hardwood floors, his rather large charmander plush wedged between his chest and the floorboards to keep his chest from coming into contact with the ground.

“Have you seen Lucia? I have to give her her iPod back before she goes back to school. She said she was leaving next week, but like, I can’t find her…” you sighed, running the pad of your thumb across the smooth, glossy backside of the iPod to quell your jumpy nerves.

“Nah, she went out earlier today with Maria and mom…Do you want to leave it here? I can give it to her when she gets back,” he mumbled, the semi-loud sounds of endless bullet rounds emptying from his television screen dying out as he turned his head to look over his shoulder.

“Yeah, sure, that’s fine…” you murmured, setting the pink music player on his nightstand before pausing to look at the television. “Is that the new Grand Theft Auto?”

“Hmm?” He hummed, his brows furrowing slightly as he turned his attention back to the screen. “Oh, yeah. My mom would never let me play this, I got it from my friend Bryan…”

“Cool…can I try?” You asked, stepping further into his room while remaining mindful of the stray socks that occasionally littered the floor.

He nodded, wordlessly passing you the controller, then scooting over a little to allow you some space in front of the television. You joined him on the floor, settling yourself on your knees before driving around in a beat-up-looking blue car with bullet holes.

“So wait, what do you do…?” You asked, steering around and hitting every bystander and stationary pole in the process.

“Well, there’s story mode…you can play if you want, but I didn’t get very far. The game pretty much just glamorizes violence and burglary. Don’t play this, it’ll make you all violent and angsty,” he murmured, watching as you ran around on the beach, punching random people.

“But you’re playing it?” You challenged, raising a brow at him defiantly.

“Yeah, but that’s different…at least I acknowledge that it’s bad for me. You might say it’s just a game or I’m being too serious,” he chuckled, shaking his head while you ran from the cops by swimming in the water.

“How are you gonna say something’s bad for you then continue to play it?” You asked, handing him the controller as the screen flashed its deep red “WASTED” sign.

“Because I have no self-control.” he smiled, taking the controller from you cautiously so his fingers wouldn’t dare touch yours.

You watched as he wiggled through the virtual valleys, steering through traffic with just his thumbs like he’d been playing the game for years despite its fresh release. A blanket of silence fell over the two of you as you quietly observed the game, feeling a little bit more comfortable in his presence compared to when you first entered his room.

Gone was the snarky, petty, and grubby little child who would jeer at you for just walking past him in a social setting. The days of fighting over who got more love and attention from their parents were long over, and all the solvent had fizzled out to reveal a cloudy and light pink solute of slight affection.

The screams and shouts of pixelated players filled the room, but the sounds were deemed insignificant in your mind as you focused on the way your heartbeat thumped in your ears. Now that you had actually spent time with him, something about his quiet and respectful nature was very flustering.

Puppy love is a rather heart-breaking term. The cruelty of denying someone’s emotions, writing them off as youth, and chalking them up as temporary is a discourteous denial that’s been written in the book of parenting for many, many generations.

When Luigi was just a little six-year-old on the field, he was able to identify the meaning of beauty at a very early age. How could he not when it sat just a few feet away from him, staring at the sun?

Quiet like midnight, enchanting like the stars, and deep like the never-ending void of space. He became enthralled with your lunar aura and mysterious face, so much so that he knew no other way to express cuteness aggression besides actual aggression.

Without the sun, the moon can’t rise above and bathe the world in her white and blinding rays of energy. Without the moon, the world would be lost in an infinite void of timeless chaos.

The sun and moon need each other to function, but they’re never as close to each other as they want to be. The sun will forever miss his gaudy goddess of sleep, so he’ll stay up as late as his eyes will allow until she rises from the earth to lull him back to sleep.

“Hey, Luigi?” you asked, not taking your eyes off of the cyber-green television glow as he booted up Minecraft instead of Grand Theft— probably because he felt guilty for showing you such a terrible game in the first place.

“Yeah?” he mumbled, shuffling through his Minecraft worlds until he found the perfect one.

“Why were you so mad at me when we were kids?”

“Uhhhh...” He sighed, a single brow raising slightly as he squinted his eyes to visualize his answer.

“I don’t know, actually…you never did anything. I’m sorry, I think I just wasn’t used to talking to any girls besides my sisters,” he chuckled, a slightly self-deprecating smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

You nodded, shifting around on the floor to sit flat on the ground with your knees to your chest.

“I think I used to talk to my sisters about you, actually…” he hummed, powering off his Xbox before sliding his controller somewhere under his bed.

“Really? I would tell my mom how much I hated you,” you chuckled.

“Yeah, I’m sure…I don’t really know what my problem was,” he sighed, cracking nearly all of the knuckles and bones in his body before turning to face you again. “You can stay and help me make paper bouquets, if you want…actually, I’m gonna be honest, I just need help. I don’t know a thing about paper flowers.”

“Paper flowers? Why, you got a date you wanna humor?” you surmised, getting up off your knees to join him beside his desk.

“No!” he blurted, a little too eagerly for his liking. “Sorry, no. I don’t have a date…I just really wanna tell someone I'm sorry the right way.”

“Ohhh, so you’re just really not good with women,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes with a light smile as the jaws of jealousy nipped at the front of your brain.

“I’ve only interacted with like…four,” he admitted, taking out a fat stack of construction paper in your favorite color. “But I lowkey effed up the first time…and I still didn’t really apologize, so.”

You sat down with him at his desk, spending the rest of the day learning and perfecting eight good-sized paper flowers with a spritz of what should have been floral perfume, but when your only materials are the scents in a teenage boy's room, sometimes flowers smell like Axe Body spray.

You finished up the last petal, folding the corners of the paper to reveal an adorable lily flower with a pale yellow stamen. By the time everything was done, Luigi’s hands were riddled with paper cuts, and your fingers were all cramped up.

“Thanks,” He smiled, accepting the final flower from you and tying together the surprisingly presentable bouquet with a little piece of satin he got from god knows where, rolling them up in some old newspaper, and scribbled down a little note in his chicken scratch handwriting.

“These are for you, by the way…” he mumbled, handing you the bouquet with a cupidly tint in his cheeks while his eyes remained glued to the ceiling. “I’m sorry I was so mean…I thought about it a lot and realized it’s incredibly disrespectful that I was rude to you because you held me to a normal standard.”

If words could materialize and travel through the world, yours were long lost somewhere in the rogue waves of love and shock. After all those many years of gagging and whining when your parents joked about you falling for Luigi someday, suddenly your gag reflex was out of commission.

“Oh…Thank you! Thank you so much, this is really sweet-” you practically babbled, leaning over in your chair to give him a real hug, not a forced and awkward side one that you came to expect after every stern talking-to, but a comforting and warm one in which your arms wrapped around his shoulders before leaving a bold kiss on the side of his cheek.

And when you pulled away, the blush that spread across his face let you know that things would be different this time. No more hiding behind the excuse of coming to see Lucia who had long since run off to college, no more awkward pauses in conversations, no more running from the truth you had tried so tragically hard to discredit.

You loved Luigi.

General taglist ; @lorelaisg1lmore @flaca335 @7luvrs @fancyyanci @f4b111 @born444u

#luigi mangione thoughts #luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione x you #luigi mangione fanfiction #luigi mangione fanfic #luigi mangione x y/n #luigi mangione fic #luigi mangione imagine

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flowery-mess · 15 hours ago

Text

kill the silence

Pairing: frat boy Noah x female reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! / argument with reader's mother / mother's asshole boyfriend mentioned / mentiones of alcohol / I think that's it, let me know

Words: 2,8k

Author's note: don't you just love when writers self project themselves in their works? Because that's exactly what I did lol. Hope you like getting to know more of Ella's story💕

frat boy Noah masterlist

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“Can we talk about it?”

“Ella please, act like an adult.”

You rolled your eyes after reading your mom’s messages. Yesterday she called you on facetime to show you the big diamond on her finger, throwing the news of being engaged at you.

Your parents divorced when you were 4 and it has been a wild ride since then.

You stayed living with your mum, seeing your dad only a few times a month. You’d think that something like this would make your and your mom's relationship stronger, but it was the opposite.

She started dating different guys, but no one was serious enough for her to bring him home for good. She introduced you to some of them, but you never liked any of the men that walked through the door of your home. And you didn’t hide your dislike.

You never crossed a line with doing something rebellious, but you always made sure that they knew you’re not a fan of them with the way you talked to them or about them behind their backs.

Your mom always put up with it, but it brought lots of fights between you two. She never blamed you for her failed relationships, because they weren’t meant to last. Until she met him, Richard.

Richard was a few years older than her, with no kids and with a nice house. Moving to his place wasn’t a question, she just told you to pack your stuff. “You’re my child, you’re gonna follow me wherever I go. I don’t care that you don’t want to.” will probably replay in your head until the day you die.

Sadly for you you were still underage and with no other place to go, so you moved to his place and that’s where the hell started.

Heated arguments with your mom every day, silent treatments from both of you and cold shoulder for Richard. Poor guy didn’t stand a chance, you dismissed him at the very beginning.

You hated the house and you cried yourself to sleep every other night.

He turned out to be a narcissistic and arrogant guy which you couldn’t stand. You were counting the days until it was time for you to move away for college. The best thing that ever happened to you.

Seeing your mom and Richard less was a good thing for keeping the family relationships at least somehow working. After a few months of not seeing them you finally found the courage to come back for a weekend and somehow you three acted like the hell before you left never happened.

You got along with Richard for a few hours and then left their place again. It wasn’t home for you, it was just their place. And since then you visit them occasionally.

You got used to their relationship and swallowed all your opinions for your mother’s sake and happiness.

That was until yesterday though.

You didn’t know what reaction from you she expected, but it probably wasn’t “Are you fucking serious?” and hanging up on her. Since then you didn’t pick up any of her calls nor replied to any of her messages.

“Ella please, just a few minutes so we can talk about it.”

You read the next message and rolled your eyes again. You finished the drink in your hand before standing up and going outside.

Little did you know Noah was watching you look at your phone every other minute, rolling your eyes and making sad faces. He could tell something was wrong so he wasn’t surprised to see you storm out of the crowded living room.

He wanted to give you a few minutes and see if you come back, if not, he knows where to find you.

In the beginning of your friendship with benefits you two sometimes sneaked away from your friends and met in the backyard in a small place that was separated from the rest of the big garden by bushes. There was an old swing, too small for both of you, but it provided you lots of fun. Also the almost broken fence where Noah pinned you many times just to steal kisses from you was there. It became “your place” any time you two couldn’t find each other and texted the other “our place?” and time, you both were there.

Your place was exactly where you ran off. The drink you just finished gave you enough courage to face your mom’s voice over the phone and tell her your opinion.

She picked up almost immediately and started talking, but you cut her off.

“Finally darling, ca-”

“No mom, you let me talk now.” you started, taking a deep breath before letting it all out. “I’ve been silent for the past few years, but I can’t let you marry him without telling you my honest opinion.”

You kicked a few rocks that were laying around and walked back and forth, a habit of yours when you were too nervous.

“I don’t think he’s good for you. I don’t think he’s enough for you. You were always a strong independent woman who knew her worth, I never thought I'd see you running around a man like you do now. You always laughed at women who served food under their man’s nose or had to pack a bag for them. But now that’s you mom.” you stopped talking, expecting some protest from her, but there was just silence at the other side of the line.

“You do everything he says, you’re like his maid mom. That hurts me to see. You should find a man who’s gonna carry you in his arms and worship the ground you walk on, not someone who tells you he won’t eat the food you made because it tastes weird, but also refuses to cook his own meal. He’s a child mom.” you threw your hands up and down in a frustrating gesture.

She finally spoke and you could hear the hurt in her voice. “That’s not true Ella.”

“You know it is, you just don’t want it to be.”

“Listen, I know you don’t agree with my relationship, but you need to respect it. I’m finally happy.”

“I don’t think you really are.” you whispered back and couldn’t stop the tears running down your cheeks. Of course you want your mum to be happy, but if this is how happiness looks like, you hope you’ll never find it.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion. I just wanted to tell you that we will be sending invites next week and I’d really appreciate it if you’d come to the wedding.” there was a short break before she added “Please.”

She rarely used “please”, “thank you” or “I’m sorry” with you, so you knew how hard it must’ve been for her to say those words out loud.

“I have to think about it.” you told her the truth. You didn’t want to make any promises in case you’d decide to not attend in the end.

“You’re hurting me Ella.” there she was, back at attacking you for your feelings.

“Bye mom.” and before she could say anything else you pressed the red button and silenced her voice that could only say more hurtful things.

Your eyes stayed on the ground, colors of the grass and dirt mixing together as your tears formed in your eyes, one blink of your eyelids sending them down your cheeks.

You were hurting too. You were hurt, sad and angry. The anger took over your body and before you could think of what you were doing, you threw your phone away and only heard a loud bang when it landed somewhere in the dark in front of you.

When Noah thought you were gone for too long he decided to go after you. He found you with your back facing him, your hands by your sides, but you weren’t talking or moving, you were just standing there.

“Did something possess you?” he joked. He expected a silly comment back or you saying “shut up”, but you stayed silent.

The tears kept running down your cheeks, because you suddenly felt so small. You felt betrayed by your mother and you felt like you were standing in your childhood room listening to her “I don’t care what you want” speech all over again. You just wanted to cry.

You heard Noah's question, but what possessed you was just a pure sadness that was making it impossible for you to move or speak.

Noah made a few steps to be closer to you and reached for your hand, but before he could do that you finally spoke up.

“Can I have your phone?” even with your back still facing now very confused Noah, he could hear the tremble in your voice.

“What?”

“Your phone.” you turned around to face him. When you did, his confused face turned into something softer. He saw your wet cheeks and the small shakes of your chin. “I threw mine somewhere in the bushes and I need to find it.” you said it like it was the most obvious thing and waited for Noah to give you his phone.

He didn’t ask any questions and just handed you his phone, turning the flashlight on for you.

You turned around and went in the direction of where you thought your phone could be. Noah just stood there in silence, his eyes following your every move.

Well, now you really looked like something possessed you. Your hands were snapping the twigs that came your way, some of them got stuck in your hair while you tried to find your phone.

With no luck finding it, you got out of the bush and dived straight into another one.

“For fucks sake.” Noah couldn’t keep watching this shit show in front of him and yanked you out of the bush, took his phone from your trembling hand and started looking for your phone himself.

You cleaned yourself from the mess and leaves that were stuck to your clothes and hair. The need to escape this loud place made your body shake. You were thinking about telling Noah to stop and come for the phone tomorrow or even buy a new phone with a new number so your mum couldn’t call you again.

“Here.” Noah’s voice took you out of the trance you were in, looking at you with a proud smirk and leaves in his hair, but he had your black phone in his hand. And it looked like you didn’t break it when you threw it away.

“Thank you.” you took it out of his hand and put it in your pocket.

Noah, scared of what you’re going to do next, stood in silence and waited for your next move. But you just kept looking around, avoiding his face. You for sure didn’t make it easy for him.

“Do you want a hug?” he asked you, unsure look on his face.

“What?”

“Isn’t that what people want when they're sad?” just as he finished his question your hands were wrapped around his torso.

You didn’t want him to see you cry again, so you just hid your face in his sweatshirt. You tried to hold your sobs and cries in, but you felt like you’re going to explode, so you let everything out.

Noah didn’t know what else to do than just rub your back and gently sway you from side to side.

After a few minutes your breath calmed down and you stepped out of Noah’s arms, cringing at the wet spot on his grey sweatshirt.

“Sorry for that.” you whispered and pointed to the place that was covered in your tears.

Noah just looked down and laughed. “It’s okay. Come on, let's take you home.”

He took your hand in his, but you realized how crazy you must look after this meltdown, so you stopped in your tracks, making Noah stop too.

“I can’t go there. I look crazy.” you panicked.

“Yeah you do, but everyone is drunk at this point, they won’t notice.”

“No, Molly and Clara will and I don’t want to explain it to them.”

Noah just sighed and looked around, rubbing his jaw with his palm and thinking of ways to leave the fraternity without anyone seeing you.

“We can jump the fence.” he proposed.

“Are you out of your mind?” you looked at the tall metallic fence around you.

“It’s either that or the main door.”

“It’s impossible for me to jump over it Noah.”

“I’m gonna help you.”

You looked at the fence, then at Noah and then back at the fence.

He’s tall and strong and falling on your ass in front of him was better than doing the walk of shame.

“Okay.”

He led you in the direction of the fence. “Okay, so, you’re gonna put your feet in my hands and I’m gonna push you up. Then you have to carefully move over the top and jump down, okay?”

“How are you gonna do it?” you asked him, because there's no way you're going to help him from the other side.

“Haven’t thought of that yet.”

“God, don’t laugh at me if I fall.” you made him promise before he leaned forward and intertwined his hands low enough for you to step into them.

“Grab my shoulders. I’m gonna count to three and then push you up okay?”

“Okay.” when he started counting you were sure that neither of you knew what you were doing.

You felt yourself being lifted from the ground, reaching for the top of the fence and swung your leg over it, then the other one.

“Jump!” Noah yelled at you, because he was scared you’re going to fall back at him.

You closed your eyes and jumped, landing perfectly on your feet.

“I did it!” you turned around to see Noah through the metallic barricade between you, laughing at the situation.

It was Noah’s turn to jump over the fence and after a few failed attempts you had to hold in a laugh and said “You know you can walk through the inside and meet me in the parking lot?”

Before Noah gave you an answer, he was happy to hear you wanted to leave with him. He was scared you’re going to push him away and won’t let him comfort you like you did to him many times.

“Can’t let you have all the fun.” he snorted, laughing at himself after another failed attempt.

After he finally managed to climb to the top of the fence, one of his legs betrayed him and he fell down on his ass in front of you.

You gasped, not knowing if he was okay, but then you started laughing. He looked up at you, shame all over his face, but he couldn’t help laughing too.

“You know, I did that just to make you laugh. It was intentional.” he shrugged his shoulders after he stood up and used his hands to get rid of the dirt from his clothes.

“Smooth Sebastian, real smooth.” you laughed, but appreciated his attempts to lift your mood.

—

Noah paid for the cab to his place even though you insisted that after everything he’d done for you it was your turn to pay.

He sent you in the direction of his bathroom after he found a few leaves in your hair in the elevator and ordered some food while you washed the dirt of that night of your body.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Noah asked after he swallowed his food, looking at you at the other side of his sofa.

“Not really. Long story short, my mum is engaged to her ass boyfriend, we had a fight over the phone and I’m probably gonna have to buy a new dress for their wedding.”

“I’m sorry.” he didn’t know what else to say. Your mood was better now, no more tears and throwing things around, so he thought he did a good job.

He wasn’t good at those things, taking care of people, so he was proud of himself for returning the care you gave him many times before.

“Don’t be, shit happens. I just need time to process it.” you put away the take out box. “And maybe some cuddles would be nice.” you made your puppy eyes at him.

“Ugh, women.” he acted annoyed, but you didn’t miss the smile on his face when he lifted the blanket on his lap so you could lay down on his chest.

He put on his favorite show and you two watched in silence.

You were happy he found you in the garden. You loved your friends, but they wouldn’t give you the comfort you needed.

You realized that you want comfort from Noah just as much as you want to comfort him when he’s feeling unwell.

His fingers played with your hair and his eyes were focused on the TV. You laid on his chest, playing with the fabric of his t-shirt and thought about the upcoming wedding.

As if Noah could read your mind he suddenly said “You know, I could be your plus one at the wedding if you decide to go.” his gaze stayed on the TV.

“Shut up, you mean it?” because if you’re going to go, in a place so uncomfortable and full of people you haven’t seen in years, you’d appreciate someone by your side.

Do you want part two?

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This story is a work of fiction, with the plot and characters entirely made up. The appearance and name of the main male character are inspired by Noah Sebastian Davis, but the storyline bears no connection to the real person. Please do not steal or repost this work on other platforms without permission.

Taglist: @lacy1986 @concretejunglefm @super-btstrash-posts @amelia-acero @justcarrie @koskeepsake @dominuslunae @ami--gami @chey-h @xmads-omensx @blade-dressed-in-red @respectfulrebel @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @mrscevans @blvckmvgicwoman @punkprincess1999 @fear-its-beauty @bloody-spades @n0n3xsisting @thenmaybehellaintsobadafterall @athenexe @tashka @badomensls @fadingintothegrey @concrtlimits

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#frat boy noah #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian x ofc #noah sebastian x y/n #noah sebastian blurb #noah sebastian fan fiction #noah sebastian fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #x reader

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peachsayshi · 17 hours ago

Note

I’ve reread The King multiple times already because it’s so so sweet and captivating and I’m so in love with this fictional couple 🥹 How long does it take for them to get married? I can see sukuna buying a ring like a month into their official relationship and not wanting to wait a second longer

(minors / ageless / blank blogs dni)

hi, nonnie! I would love to answer this question! I think it's so cute how many comments/asks I got about these two and when they might get married! thank you so much for reading this work! I am really proud of this fic (personally, it's one of my favorites that I have ever written) and I was originally very worried that sukuna was ooc, but it makes me so happy to see that you all enjoyed this story! I am very much in love with them as a pair and writing out the progression of their storyline was so fulfilling! xo I am so happy you all felt the same way too.

shortly after he retired, you and sukuna chose to move into together. he bought a house in a rural part of the country, surrounded by lots of green and some much needed quiet. sukuna didn't even hesitate on the decision, especially after the news of you both being together finally broke out to the public.

for you both, moving in felt like a real step. the two of you didn't need boundaries to understand one another in a relationship, because you've always been tangled in the other person's life. moving in together just gave you the luxury of exploring your intimate sides with more freedom.

and it progressed so naturally. so...seamlessly. like you were always lovers who were just waiting for this very moment.

about seven months into your relationship is when it happened.

you were getting ready for bed, standing in front of the bathroom mirror and applying your skincare. sukuna approaches the bathroom door, raising his hand overhead as he used it to lean against the frame.

he took up the entire space with his large stature.

you smiled at him from the mirror, "you're back. how's uruame?"

"good," he answers calmly, looking at you (and only ever you) with such soft eyes it makes you want to melt into a puddle on the bathroom tile.

"that's good," you answer, as you pick up your lip mask and slowly dab the sticky, silky balm on your bottom lip. "I wasn't sure what time you were getting in. I was a little sleepy waiting on the couch-"

sukuna's face remains firm, his attention on your mouth which makes him subconsciously bite his own.

your cheeks warm when you notice the reaction.

he just has the ability to make butterflies swarm in your belly without even trying.

"what?" you question a little shyly, though you aren't sure why.

sukuna steps into the bathroom, his hands find your waist, and deliberately slips underneath your pajama top so he can touch your skin. he bends down to kiss the top of your head.

"I have a question," he states.

"which is?"

"when am I allowed to actually propose to you? and I am not talking about the stupid game we used to play when we were kids..."

it catches you so off guard, you drop the pot of your lip mask along with the cap into the sink. the shock makes sukuna huff out a laugh, but all he does is squeeze your side and tuck you into him, pressing your back firmly against his front.

"propose?" you repeat, like the word is foreign. you reach into the sink, to grab your lip pot and the cap, your fingers shaking as you try to screw on the top before placing it gently on the counter.

"yes, propose. as in marriage..."

you suddenly spin on your heel to face him. sukuna actually has to cock his body back a little to ensure you don't slam your forehead into his chest.

"marriage?! but...but we only just started dating...we've only been together for a short period of time..." you ramble, your mind short circuiting at the thought.

your heart hammers so hard in your chest, but all sukuna does is reach for your hips and pick you up. he perches you onto the bathroom counter, then finds your wrists which he brings to circle around his neck.

"we have not been together for a short period of time," he clarifies as he leans down to kiss your parted lips.

you invite him eagerly, because you love kissing him. because it's your favorite thing to do. his statement lingers on his tongue, and it makes your heart and chest expand as he deepens the kiss further.

he snags your bottom lip between his teeth, tasting the berry flavored mask that you just put on. "now that's all cleared up, let's go back to my question..."

" 'kuna," you sigh.

"listen, I'm being a "gentleman" by even asking, princess. if I had it my way, I was putting a ring on your finger the second you let me stick my dick inside you..."

you grip his shirt, and tug at the fabric. "must you be so vulgar?" you say with a sarcastic pout.

"answer my question," he replies sternly, though the tone contrasts the gentle touch of his hand caressing your lower back.

you gulp down your nerves, "I-I don't know, whenever you would like to propose, I guess?"

he arches one brow suspiciously. "and you would say yes?"

that makes you your nostrils flare in offense.

your face grows even hotter.

"of course, I'd say yes!"

he shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, the smug bastard. acting like what he was saying isn't even a big deal at all.

he leans forward to kiss you once more, "I'm just making sure..."

your body whirred with anticipation that night, and when you both made love later on, it somehow felt even more intimate than usual.

like your bodies were answering an age old question that it already knew.

six weeks later, he popped the question again just as you were both getting ready to go visit his step-brothers. after you finished getting dressed, sukuna pointed out that you forgot something, and when you asked him what it was, he responded by standing in front of you and slipping the ring on your finger casually.

your eyes were glossy with tears, your attention on your hand that was now anointed with a sparkling diamond.

you sniffle as you stare at him with affectionate disapproval, "you know, men usually get on their knees for this part, right?"

""I get on my knees for other reasons, sweetheart..." sukuna chuckles, capturing your wrist and placing a kiss on the inside. "and I'm not treating this like a song a dance the way your shitty ex did. this is a matter of fact. a long time coming. and besides, you already told me you were saying yes..."

you shake your head at him, but your heart feels so full. even now, despite how nonchalantly he placed the ring on your finger, you feel like you're walking on clouds. your bring your hands to his jaw as you lower him towards your lips. "I love you," you sigh, "I love you so much I don't even think saying it is enough..."

sukuna returns the kiss, one hand sliding behind the back of your neck. he traces his lips along your jaw and down the column, before dragging it back up to your ear. he holds you so close, keeps you there to murmur his adoration over you. to profess his deep love for you in return. "you're the best thing that's ever happened to me..." he whispers deeply, meaningfully, his voice ever so rich and smooth. "I love you too."

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #sukuna fluff #fic: the king #inbox.💌

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puppysuke · 2 days ago

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daisuke breeding a ftm reader plsssss

hii :3 thank you so much for the ask ! i'm writing in a situation that you can decide as post mouthwashing events or in a totally new au! i decided this would be better as a one shot and not just hc, so i just decided to write a short one shot for this one :3 continue reading below the cut ! MINORS DNI!!! sorry to you guys !

"have you ever wanted kids?" daisuke's voice rang through your ears. you looked up at him, a little confused at his question. you had kind of assumed he didn't want kids, he never brought it up and he just never seemed to be the "dad" type to you. not to mention, you were trans. it was clear you weren't totally comfortable in your body since you were young, pregnancy might make it worse. plus, your use of testosterone would definitely have some kind of affect. "well," you clear your throat, shrugging. "i've never exactly thought about it. i'm not sure it'd work out, i'd have to think on it a bit more, i can't just decide something like that so quickly." you looked at daisuke, his head was cocked like a puppy, his hair a bit more grown out than he often let it get, his hair moving with his head. "have you ever wanted kids?" you ask.

daisuke thought a second and came over to sit by you, jumping over the back of the couch and sitting himself next to you. he leaned back, thinking a second, running a hand through his hair. "i don't know if it's so much as wanted to have kids..." daisuke trailed off before shrugging. "or just the excitement of breeding." you stared at him for a moment, the tips of your ears turning red.

and that was how you ended up in your current predicament, head down and ass in the air as daisuke pounded into you from behind.

it wasn't exactly your guys' favorite position, but it got the job done and was a pretty good pick for the mood. besides, daisuke was seeming to enjoy it quite a lot, moaning and whimpering behind you.

at one point, daisuke presses his chest against your back, leaning down over you to press gentle kisses along your shoulders, his hips stuttering slightly as he did so. he pulled his lips away from your neck, his hands holding tightly onto your waist as his hips slowed down, but his strokes became more fluid and deep.

"fuck," daisuke muttered into your ear, his cheek resting against the back of your head. "gonna fill you up so good, gonna get you all round and pretty, hm? would you like that, darling?" he asked, his tone whiny. you whined into the pillow, pushing yourself back to try and get his pace up a bit, but it was useless. "you'd be such a good dad. you'd be the best one, so good i'll have to keep pumping you full of babies, don't you think?"

you could hardly keep up with what he was saying, just nodding along as your hands gripped the sheets so hard your knuckles were paper white. daisuke finally quickened his pace. he straightened his posture and stood up straight. he was gripping your waist so hard as he pulled you back onto him in time with his thrusts, you were almost certain it'd leave bruises.

then he came in you. it was intense, the way his hips stuttered, his gasps and pants, his moans and mumbles you couldn't make out. usually he didn't come before you, but this just pushed you over the edge, seeing stars.

you didn't even realize your body collapsed against the bed, so far from your mind. by the time you came to, daisuke was sitting next to you, swinging his lets off the side of the bed. he moved your hair out of your face and gave you smile.

"you with me, pretty boy?" he asked. when he saw you smile at him, he leaned closed and kissed your temple. he was very into aftercare. he heard that some guys didn't think of their partner as pretty right after the fact, but daisuke was totally different. he found you to be as handsome and stunning as ever. "you did so good for me. such a good boy," he helped you sit up, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as you slumped against his side.

you were right where you needed to be, with your person for the rest of eternity, just sitting with him in the afterglow of what you two did, no one but god to judge you. ----------------

i hope you enjoyed! if you liked this and have anything you'd like me to write from this fandom, or any other fandoms listen in my intro post, my requests are open! just ask me in my inbox and i'll write / make hc for you <3 thank you for reading!

#mouthwashing #daisuke x reader #daisuke mouthwashing #fanfic #daisuke mw #smut #daisuke smut #mouthwashing smut #minors dni

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gardenwalrus · 1 day ago

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The Beatles speaking about themselves in DISC (12 October 1963) [Paul & John section here]

[GEORGE] Our dress style has changed… It was when I was relaxing in a Boeing jet on the way back from America last week that I realised that in many ways I was still the same George Harrison I was before The Beatles were so well known. But I also realise that in some ways my life HAS changed - mostly for the better I’m glad to say. The most obvious change is financial. That’s very nice, but I don’t think it's the most important thing. It’s nice to be able to buy a new car and new clothes when you want them, but I was happy when I couldn’t afford these things. One big way The Beatles generally have changed is in their style of dress. Eighteen months ago, for instance, we dressed far more casually than we do now.

I think my social life has changed considerably as well. Now we meet far more people than we ever met before. I mean, like, when we appear at a one-night stand we’re often invited back after the show to a nearby club. People seem to go out of their way to try and make sure we have a little fun after our work. A question I’ve been asked quite a few times over the past 12 months is: “What do you think is the right age to get married?” I honestly think there’s no such thing as ‘the right age.’ I think that you should get married when you decide that this is the time when you should get married. This is a decision which you can only make yourself. There’s no correct age. In my personal tastes, I’m a bit undecided about clothes, too. I haven’t got any definite preferences. But if something I see pleases me I’ll buy it and wear it whether it’s in the French style, or Italian, or English. One thing I really do get enthusiastic about is music. As I’ve said before in DISC, I like the coloured American groups like The Shirelles and The Miracles. But I’m fond of a lot of other music - Segovia on classical guitar, for example.

[RINGO] I’m the silent type… I’m the one the boys call the silent type. Well, I haven’t got all that much to say for myself, and I prefer to listen to other people speaking. My real name is Richard Starkey, but the Ringo bit has been with me for so long, I don’t think of myself as a ‘Richard’ anymore. Of all the Beatles, I live nearest to the city centre - about 10 minutes walk and six bus stops away. It’s not a rich part of town, but my mum has all her friends there and doesn’t want to move out. Some of my family are just outside London. They sometimes come and visit us, and once a year my dad makes a trek down south. I want to do things for my family, but they keep telling me to save my money. Eventually I think I’ll open a chain of hairdressing shops in and around Liverpool. I’d like my main shop to be in the centre of the city, and be THE place. I have enough hairdressing friends to keep the shops well staffed, but feel with a haircut like mine it would be best for me to stay away from them! I have my hair cut about once every three months! I’m joking of course. I have it trimmed when the mood takes me and have no special barber. You don’t hear very much about me in the group, because I don’t sing. I had my big and only singing moment on ‘Boys’ for our LP, and really made the most of it. And, surprisingly enough, although I’m a drummer I don’t have a favourite musician. Well, not a real one. I like to see good showmanship in any artist, and I hope to get a chance of seeing Brook Benton while he’s in England. It’s a stroke of luck he’ll be doing the Palladium show at the same time as us, but I’ll probably be so nervous, I won’t have time to appreciate his act. I don’t eat very much. If I did, I’d probably have much more energy. As a kid, I was very fond of chips and jam-butty (that’s a jam sandwich), and to this day, I still like it. Even if I enjoyed it, I don’t think I’d ever get used to eating caviar or drinking champagne. One of my ambitions in life is to learn how to play the piano. I’d willingly take lessons if only I had the time. But my main ambition is to be happy all the time. Yet I don’t relax very much. I like to be active. Even if I have a chance to go on holiday, instead of sitting in the sun all day I’m off exploring the local neighbourhood. I think I do this because if I didn’t I’d be nothing more than just plain lazy! I very rarely go near a Chinese or Italian restaurant. Don’t like either food, and if anything has onions in it then I’m completely done for. I’m mad for rings. I wear four, and would wear them on all my fingers if I didn’t think they’d get in the way. Often I get wrist ache from drumming too much, but the only other ailment I suffer from is occasional colds. I’m not as bad as John though. He keeps on losing his voice. Never doing a performance, but usually just after a recording session.

#i get he has stomach(?) issues but i don't think i could ever do ringo's diet i just enjoy diff types of food too much #like last month didn't he come out and say he's never had pizza #or something like that #paper archives #george harrison #ringo starr

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magiclwritings · 9 hours ago

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There had always been an unspoken notion between all of them. Oliver and Isaac didn't ask, Apollo and Cassio never made them privy to the darker side of their friendship. For the time being, it had been working flawlessly. Well, if you counted that both partners were completely in the dark to either Cass or Apollo's safety at any point during the day. That had always been the unspoken part that lay between them all. Whether or not they all knowingly signed up for it was another matter all together. So as Isaac stood there, hating that there was no other alternative than what he'd been given before him, he sighed and gave in.

"Please be ca'eful." He spoke softly, moving his hands up Apollo's back and he pulled him in close. There was no sense in even trying to talk him out of it when he had that look in his eye. Isaac was a lot of things but stupid was not one of them. And at the risk of those marks on their friend becoming a reality on that little boy safely tucked into their bed, he couldn't stomach that more than what Apollo had been proposing. What did that say about him? Of course, any rational person would think the same. But perhaps not nearly as dire as this. But that was Apollo. All brute force and brains that were so brilliant it sometimes scared Isaac but ultimately brought out love all the more.

Isaac gave a gentle nod to Oliver, his hand lowering for him to lay back down. There was so much bruising still but he'd been fairly confident that now all he needed was to administer some sort of pain killer for Oliver and they all could take a deep breath. Well ... for the time being anyway. He brought his hand up to Apollo's cheek and turned him to look at him again. "Ya ha'e ta come back 'n one piece too." He chided as playfully as he could muster under the circumstances. "We ha'e a kid now an I won' be one o' them da's tha' tal' abou' how we los' ya in the wa'." He teased, leaning in to kiss those lips oh so softly. "Jus' co'e back ta me." He whispered, hugging onto that solid frame he'd loved for so many years.

At least we're all on the same page. He thought, hearing Oliver from the other room. He wondered briefly why he never wore all black more often. It was amazing how well it complimented him. Cass looked over his arms in the snuggly fitting clothing as he made his way to join the others. Seeing Oliver again was going to be jarring but he'd be alright. Those bruises and marks would fade and Oliver would be as he always was. The person that made them however? It'd been a while since he'd had to consider making this sort of choice concerning someone's life but the look on Apollo's face made it clear that there was no room for anything but that.

Cass saw Isaac first and shimmied by both him and Apollo to see Oliver. It made his stomach flop the moment he saw the marks again but he pushed a smile to his face and moved in closer to him. "Hey." Cass breathed, setting himself down gently on the bed next to him. He sucked in a deep breath seeing the movement caused Oliver some discomfort. "It never ceases to amaze me how fierce you are." Because he was. Oliver always made it a point to say how great his siblings were and what they were great in but what he didn't know was that he was the glue for them and even their little rag tag family under this roof.

"Think I can leave you in charge of that one?" He nodded towards Isaac and smiled. Honestly, at this point, whatever had happened before had to be left for the time being. It just had to be. His eyes moved from one mark to the next and then the next. He had never questioned when Apollo and he went on missions like this before but now, this was personal. And he'd make sure that man knew the hell he put that little boy through. "Honestly, I think you've been the bravest tonight." He told him in earnest, moving his hand gently to lay over Oliver's. "You always are. I don't .." He sighed, smiling warmly at him. "I just want you to worry about getting better." Cass glanced to Oliver and nodded, ready when he was.

The underlying fear was that Apollo would eventually push Cassio past his breaking point. The two had been through so much, and Apollo knew it was because of him. He had developed the habit of dragging Cassio into his bullshit, leaning on him to help fix every shitty thing in his life. Deep down, he knew it wasn’t fair. He knew Cassio deserved better, but Apollo was selfish, and Cassio was his crutch.

But standing in front of him now, Apollo wasn’t sure if Cassio would come with him. He would be going, with or without Cassio, but their security in backing each other up made the difference. It made Apollo feel like he could overcome anything that came his way. It wasn’t until Cassio said, “I’m with you always.” Apollo’s lips twisted into a smile, and he felt a wave of reassurance wash over him. He pulled Cassio into a hug, squeezing his body against Apollo’s chest, inhaling the familiar scent of his person. They could do this. They would do this. Together. As it should be.

“We’ll get to the bottom of it,” he said, pulling away. I promise.” Apollo turned towards the bed, taking in the sight of Theo sleeping peacefully. He was curious if his biological dad looked like Apollo, which was why the boy resembled him, or if Alexandra had used magic, knowing that could happen in the future. The boy looked too much like Apollo had at that age for it to be purely a coincidence. It didn’t matter much to Apollo if she had or hadn't. She trusted him with his son’s life, and he would do everything he could to treat him like his son as if he had always been meant to be Apollo’s son. In another life, he would have been.��

“If you want to change clothes, do it now. There’s extra clothes that’ll fit you in the closet.” The chest would open for Cassio as anything revolved around their work. “I’m going to go tell the others we’re going out.” Apollo walked past Cassio, stopping for a moment to squeeze his shoulder. Then, he continued through the room and went to the guest bedroom.

Isaac was hovering over Oliver, tending to his wounds. “Isaac,” Apollo called out, getting his boyfriend’s attention and beckoning him over. With Isaac standing before him, Apollo’s arms immediately circled the man’s waist. “I’m taking Cassio, and I’m going to Alexandria’s house,” He explained, looking up at Isaac. There was no beating around the bush with this. He knew there was tension between his boyfriend and best friend, but Apollo didn’t have the luxury of time to soothe those insecurities. “I have to go tonight. I can’t give him more time to hide evidence or plan his next move. He must be taken care of before anything else happens to Theo.” Maybe it would count for something that he was being truthful with Isaac, or perhaps it would make things worse. After Theo was safe, Apollo would worry about the forgiveness part of it later.

“Apollo.” Oliver’s voice was weak and fractured, and he rolled over onto his side, the pain cutting across his face. Apollo flickered his gaze from Isaac over to Oliver. The man’s eyes welled up with tears, and his chin quivered. It was hard for Apollo to imagine exactly how much pain Oliver was in, but he knew it was a great deal. He was a lot stronger than Apollo had ever realized. “I want you and Cassio to make him pay.”

#Where do we go from here?;#Oliver;#Apollo;

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littlejoyss · 2 days ago

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𝔯𝔦𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔪𝔬𝔬𝔫 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 3

Stray Kids - Non-Idol! Hyunjin x Reader

Twilight Inspired Fic (but major differences such as age)

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 1, 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 2, 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 3, more to come!

You sat on the edge of the river. Hyunjin sat beside you, close enough that you could feel his presence, but not so close that it felt overwhelming.

“You asked me why I saved you,” he said after a long silence. “Why I care.” You glanced at him, waiting. “I told you I’m more than what I am,” he continued. “And I’m not the only one.”

“The Strays,” you guessed, remembering the name you’d overheard before.

He nodded, his fingers idly tracing patterns on the damp earth beside him. “We aren’t like other vampires. We don’t hunt the way they do.”

“You don’t kill people?” You asked.

He nodded. “We made a choice a long time ago. We only eat from wild animals. I joke we’re vampire vegans.”

You huffed out a quiet laugh. “Vampire vegans? That’s... not what I expected.”

Hyunjin grinned, clearly pleased with your reaction. “What, you thought we’d be brooding in candlelit castles, sipping from goblets of stolen blood?”

“I mean… maybe a little. The name ‘The Strays’ made it sound like some underground, mysterious group. Not a bunch of ethical vampires.” You look over at him again. “Do you burn in the sun?”

Hyunjin scoffed, leaning back on his palms. “Yeah, sadly. I wish I could tan like everyone else.”

You laughed, unable to help yourself.

He exhaled, tilting his head to the side as he studied you. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“Well, excuse me for trying to understand the secret vampire society I accidentally stumbled into.”

“Fair.”

You nudged his shoulder playfully. “So, what else should I know? Do you sleep in coffins? Turn into a bat? Have a weird obsession with counting things?”

Hyunjin chuckled, shaking his head. “No coffins. I don’t sleep. No bat transformations, though that would be cool. And the counting thing? Isn’t that from Sesame Street?” He leaned in slightly. “But I am pretty good at math.”

You grinned. “I knew it. Next, you’ll tell me you don’t even have fangs.”

His smirk widened, and before you could react, he let his lips part just enough for you to catch a glimpse of sharp canines. “Oh, I have them,” he murmured.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you hated the way your stomach fluttered at the sight. He must have noticed because his smirk deepened.

“See? Harmless,” he said, flashing them one last time before leaning back again.

You narrowed your eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure the deer you snack on would disagree.”

Hyunjin laughed, full and warm. “You’re fun, you know that?”

You cleared your throat, looking back at the river. “So, what’s the deal with The Strays? How do you never age and people don’t notice?”

“We move around. This is around the fifth time we’ve lived in Forks.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Fifth? And no one notices?”

He smirked, leaning in slightly. “You’d be surprised how little humans actually pay attention.”

“That’s both reassuring and a little insulting.”

“It helps that we tweak things. We switch up our looks a lot. The last time I was here, I had blonde hair and glasses. Before that? A tragic side part.”

You bit your lip to stifle a laugh. “A tragic side part?”

“It was a dark time,” he said, shaking his head.

You shook your head, fighting a smile. “So, what happens when people do start noticing? When they realize you’re not, y’know, aging?”

He sighed, leaning back again. “We leave before that happens. Start fresh somewhere else.”

“That sounds… lonely.”

“It can be.”

A quiet breeze rolled over the river, and you watched the water ripple. You let your gaze drift, watching as your own reflection stared back at you. But, something was off.

You blinked, shifting your focus. Your reflection was alone.

Your breath hitched slightly, and a strange unease settled in your stomach. The space beside you, where Hyunjin should be, was empty. In reality, he was still next to you, but in the water? Nothing. No dark eyes watching you, no familiar smirk teasing at the corners of his lips. Just empty space, like he wasn’t there at all.

You turned your head slowly, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. He looked at peace, his gaze turned up toward the sky as if he hadn’t noticed your sudden shift in demeanor. Like this wasn’t the first time someone had realized.

Then, he noticed you staring at him and looked back. Hyunjin raised an eyebrow. Then, without warning, he scrunched up his face in the most ridiculous way. His lips were twitched and his nose was wrinkled in a silly way.

The eerie weight of the moment shattered.

You let out an ungraceful snort, covering your mouth as laughter bubbled up. “What- what was that?”

“A distraction,” he admitted, grinning. “Did it work?”

You rolled your eyes, still giggling. “You’re such a dork.”

His grin widened, a hint of smugness creeping in. “A devastatingly handsome dork, though.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Unfortunately, yes.”

He placed a hand over his chest in mock flattery. “Oh? So you admit it?”

With an exaggerated sigh, you leaned back beside him, letting your back graze the cool grass. “It’s tragic, really. A dork trapped in an insanely hot body.”

“The burden I bear,” he murmured, staring up at the sky.

You turned your head to look at him, propping yourself up on one elbow. “Must be exhausting.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” he said, shutting his eyes like he was deep in thought. “Constantly being admired, fawned over… It’s a curse, really.”

“Wow. You must be so strong to endure it.”

He cracked one eye open, smirking. “I am, aren’t I?”

Rolling your eyes, you let out a small laugh. “Unbelievable.”

For a moment, the teasing quieted, replaced by something softer. The river murmured beside you, fireflies flickering lazily in the distance. Hyunjin tilted his head slightly, watching you like he was memorizing something.

“You’re not scared,” he said after a beat, voice quieter now.

You blinked at him. “Of you?”

He nodded.

You thought about it, about everything that had happened today. Maybe you should be. But when you looked at him, you didn’t see a monster lurking in the shadows. You saw someone who made stupid faces to make you laugh, who seemed more human than he wanted to admit.

“No,” you finally said. “I don’t think I am.”

Something unreadable flickered in his expression, and then he smiled. It was small but real.

“Good,” he murmured. “I’d hate to scare you away.”

⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

You were busy looking at your phone in the school hallway when Hyunjin came behind you.

He leaned over. “Tyler wants to ask you to the winter dance.”

You nearly dropped your phone, spinning around to face him. “Excuse me?”

Hyunjin grinned, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “You heard me.”

“How do you even know that?” You narrowed your eyes. “Did you eavesdrop, or-” You paused, then gasped. “Oh my god, did you read his mind! Great. Now I have to avoid Tyler for the rest of my life.”

Hyunjin chuckled. “Not into him?”

You shot him a look. “Absolutely not. Plus, isn’t it still too early to be thinking of that? It’s October.”

He shrugged. “Apparently not for Tyler. He’s been thinking about it for a while.”

You groaned again, resisting the urge to dramatically slide down the lockers. “This is the worst news I’ve received all week.”

“It’s really not that big of a deal,” Hyunjin said, crossing his arms. “Just say no if he asks.”

You sighed, stuffing your phone into your pocket. “It’s not that simple. Tyler’s nice, and I don’t want to be mean about it. But now that I know it’s coming, I’m going to be stressing over how to let him down easy.”

“Just be honest. That’s usually the best way.”

“Yeah. You’re right. I just hope it doesn’t make things awkward.”

“It’ll only be awkward if you make it awkward.”

“Wow. So wise.”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes. “Alright, alright. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you when he finally works up the courage.”

You groaned again, already dreading the conversation. “Can all vampire’s read minds or something?” You made sure to talk in a hushed tone.

“No. Only certain vampire’s have powers and they’re all different. Mind reading is mine.”

You frowned, considering that. “So, like… superpowers? Special vampires gets something different?”

He nodded. “Something like that.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “That’s… kind of terrifying.”

He smirked. “Only if we want it to be.”

You ignored that and pressed on. “So, you got stuck with mind reading?”

He scoffed. “Stuck with? It’s useful.”

“You literally just used it to gossip about college drama,” you pointed out.

Hyunjin sighed, shaking his head. “And this is why I don’t tell people things.”

You grinned. “So, if everyone has different powers, what do the rest of The Strays have?”

“Like I mentioned, only certain vampire’s have special abilities. Felix can see the future. He can’t see it clearly but it’s there. And Jeongin can control mortals emotions.”

“Just you three have special abilities?”

He nods. “You should really meet my all of my coven.”

“A mortal in a room of seven vampires? That doesn’t sound like a good idea…”

“Oh, come on. You make it sound like we’re going to eat you.”

“You can’t blame me for being cautious. I don’t want to end up as dinner.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “You won’t. Besides, you’ve already been around me, and I haven’t so much as taken a bite. I already told you we’re vegan.” He laughs at his own joke again. “If it makes you feel better, we don’t exactly invite humans over all the time. But you’re… different.”

You frowned at that. “Different how?”

He hesitated, then sighed. “I don’t know yet. But Felix saw something in one of his visions.”

Your stomach twisted. “About me?”

He nodded. “Not clearly. But you’re involved in something. That’s why they want to meet you.”

You swallowed hard, glancing away. “Yeah, that’s not ominous at all.”

Hyunjin gave you a reassuring look. “It’s not like that. You don’t have to decide now, but at least think about it?”

You exhaled, rubbing your arms. “Fine. I’ll think about it. No promises.”

“Good enough for me.”

‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Charlie was going to be working late today. He called saying his team found a new development in the bear attacks.

This mean’t you had the house to yourself.

You sighed, stretching your arms over your head as you glanced around. The stillness felt heavier tonight. Maybe it was because of everything Hyunjin had told you earlier, or maybe it was just the way the wind howled faintly outside, rattling the windows every so often.

Shaking off the eerie feeling, you decided to keep yourself busy. You put on some music, made a quick dinner, and let the familiar routine settle you. By the time you curled up on the couch with a blanket, you almost felt normal again.

You tried focusing on the movie playing in front of you, but your mind kept wandering. The bear attacks. The Strays. Hyunjin’s mind-reading. Felix seeing the future. And Jeongin controlling emotions.

Just as you were about to shake the thoughts away, your phone buzzed on the coffee table.

The sudden noise made you jump. You exhaled, reaching for it and glancing at the screen.

A call from Chan.

You hesitated for a second before answering. “Hello?”

“Hey,” Chan’s voice came through, steady and calm. “You doing okay?”

You blinked. “Yeah… why?”

“I heard about Charlie working on the bear attacks.”

You frowned, shifting on the couch. “Yeah, he called earlier. Said they found something new.”

Chan hummed on the other end, but he didn’t say anything right away.

You bit your lip. “What’s going on?”

Another pause. Then, his voice dropped slightly. “Just… be careful, alright? Stay inside. Keep your doors locked.”

“Why? What aren’t you telling me?”

“I don’t want to freak you out.”

“Too late for that.”

You could hear the hesitation in his breathing, the way he was carefully choosing his words. “I just think you should stay put tonight. Trust me on this.”

You swallowed, glancing toward the nearest window. The backyard was shrouded in darkness, only the faint glow of the porch light keeping it from being pitch black. The night suddenly felt too quiet, too still.

Your grip on your phone tightened. “Chan…”

“I’ll check in later,” he said, tone firm. “Just promise me, okay?”

“No. This is sketchy. We’ve only chatted around five times since I’ve came back and now you call me with a warning. What’s going on?”

“Remember when I told you about The Cold Ones?”

“Vampires?”

“The Cold Ones.”

“Fine. Yes, I do. Very well.”

“It’s more than just The Strays.”

You frowned, gripping your phone tighter. “I know there are more vampi- Cold Ones. Yeah.”

“Yeah. Actually, don’t worry about it. My family is dealing with it.”

You groaned. “Chan if you know anything you need to tell Charlie and his team-”

"Charlie and his team are looking for bears, not Cold Ones. Trust me, getting them involved won’t help."

You opened your mouth to argue but stopped yourself. As much as you wanted to believe that your dad and his officers could handle whatever was happening, deep down, you knew they were outmatched. Guns and searchlights wouldn’t do much against creatures that could move faster than the human eye.

"Then tell me," you insisted. "Tell me what's really going on."

"A coven passed through last week. They didn’t stay long, but they left a mess behind.”

Your stomach twisted. "The attacks."

"Yeah."

You squeezed your eyes shut, your pulse thrumming in your ears.

Chan spoke again, “Don’t feel the need to tell your inhuman friends. They already know. I just want you to be safe because you’re involved in this world now. You smell like them. Mortal’s don’t usually smell like Cold Ones.”

You froze, the words sinking in. "What do you mean I smell like them?"

“Your scent is different now. You’ve been around them long enough that it’s… noticeable." He spoke almost in disgust. "It makes you a target, especially for the coven that came through. They’ll be able to sense it, and not everyone in that world is friendly." His voice was serious now, the tone of someone who had seen too much. "That’s why I need you to stay put tonight. Lock up, stay inside. Don’t let anyone get too close."

"Okay, I will. But you have to tell me more. How do you know about all this stuff? I know you said it’s in your family history, but you’re also human. How does your family just casually take care of Cold Ones like this? I’m already in deep. I can’t just stay in the dark."

“Do you really not remember anything I told you at La Push?”

“About The Cold Ones? I thought we already established I remembered that very well.”

“Of course that’s the only part you remember…”

“Chan, what-”

He hung up.

You stared at the screen of your phone, feeling a mix of confusion and frustration swirling in your chest. "What the hell?" you muttered, trying to process everything he had just said.

You paced around the room, running a hand through your hair, unsure of what to do next. Part of you wanted to call him back, demand answers, but something about the way he had ended the call so abruptly made you hesitate.

You checked the locks on the doors and windows again, though you knew it wouldn't make a difference if something wanted to get in. Chan said they were long gone but you had to make sure you could do as much as you could.

⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Ultimately, the next Saturday you agreed to meet with The Strays. You needed answers.

As you stepped outside, the cold fall air hit you like a splash of cold water. You could feel the tension in the pit of your stomach as you made your way to the driveway. When you saw Hyunjin’s car pull up, you exhaled, trying to push away the knots in your chest.

Hyunjin smiled slightly when he saw you approaching. It was moments like this when you were grateful he couldn’t read your mind. He got out of the car and opened the passenger side door for you, gesturing for you to get in.

“You good?” he asked as he helped you into the seat.

You gave him a small nod. “Yeah. Just preparing to be in a room full of vampires.”

Hyunjin gave a small nod back, his expression softening. He buckled you in carefully, taking a moment to make sure the straps were secure before stepping back. He closed your door with a soft click and walked around the car to the driver's side. It was a small action, but the fact that he cared to help you made you smile.

When he slid into the driver's seat, he shot you a quick smile, one that made you feel a little better. “You ready?”

You nodded, but as he started the engine, your eyes wandered to the seatbelt. You noticed that, despite buckling you in, Hyunjin hadn’t buckled himself up. He was focused on the road, hands gripping the wheel loosely as he pulled the car out of the driveway and onto the road.

“Hey,” you said after a beat, your gaze flickering back to him. “You’re not gonna buckle up?”

He glanced over at you, his grin playing at the edges of his lips. “What’s the worst that can happen? I die?” He joked.

You rolled your eyes. Right. He’s already dead.

The drive stretched on longer than you expected, the roads becoming narrower, the trees growing denser as Hyunjin guided the car deeper into the woods. The further you went, the more the town lights faded behind you, swallowed by darkness and thick foliage.

Your fingers curled into your lap as you glanced at Hyunjin. The dim light between the clouds cast sharp shadows across his face, highlighting the curve of his jaw, the slight furrow in his brow. His eyes stayed locked on the road ahead. One of his hands gripped the steering wheel loosely, but it was the other that caught your attention. It rested on the center console, fingers splayed, inches from your thigh.

Eventually, the car slowed as the trees gave way to a clearing, revealing a house. No. This was a mansion. It looked like any glamorous house, but with more curtains.

Hyunjin turned off the engine, letting the silence settle thick between you.

“Well,” he exhaled, glancing at you. “We’re here.”

You swallowed, staring at the grand estate. “This is where you live?”

He smirked slightly. “What, were you expecting a crypt?”

“I don’t know what I was expecting. But not this.”

Hyunjin huffed a small laugh before stepping out of the car. You barely had time to process the sudden blur of movement before he was there, standing beside your open door, one hand braced against the roof of the car, the other extended toward you.

"Come on," he murmured, voice smooth, almost teasing. "I promise we don’t bite… well, not all of us."

You narrowed your eyes but placed your hand in his anyway. His fingers curled around yours, cool to the touch, yet oddly grounding. He led you up the walkway to the massive double doors. He didn’t bother knocking. Instead, with a casual push, the doors swung open, revealing the tidy entryway.

The walls were lined with dark wood paneling, polished to a gleam beneath the golden glow of chandeliers hanging high above. The scent of aged books and something faintly sweet, like old wine or honey lingered in the air.

Your steps were slow, careful, as you trailed behind Hyunjin, taking in the way the candlelight flickered against the deep blue of the curtains, how the walls were lined with bookshelves that stretched impossibly high.

As you moved further inside, the atmosphere shifted. The faint hum of voices drifted through the air, accompanied by the rhythmic clatter of kitchenware. The scent of something rich and savory curled around you, surprising given the nature of the house’s occupants.

When you two went up the stairs you stopped at a display of graduation caps. They were all hung in a row orangzied by the names of The Strays.

You laugh, “You’ve been to a lot of colleges.”

Hyunjin turned slightly, following your gaze to the neatly arranged caps. A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Yeah. You could say we have a thing for knowledge.” He joked.

Each cap bore a different school emblem, some old enough that the institutions they belonged to had probably changed names or shut down. Some were crisp and new and others slightly frayed at the edges.

As you reached the top of the stairs, the scene before you was even stranger than you had imagined.

The kitchen was warm and alive with movement. Pots clanked against the stove, the soft sizzle of something frying filled the air, and the scent of herbs and something buttery filled the air.

Han turned to see you, “Oh, guys! She’s here!”

“You couldn’t tell? I could smell her from a mile away.” Changbin chimed in.

You stiffened at the comment, instinctively taking a half-step back, but Hyunjin's hand found the small of your back, steadying you. “Don’t be an ass,” he muttered, shooting Changbin a pointed look.

Changbin shrugged. “I’m just saying. She smells… interesting.”

“Can you not be creepy for once?” Minho sighed, barely glancing away from the pot he was stirring. “We’re trying to be hospitable here.”

Hyunjin cleared his throat, “This is (Y/N).”

A chorus of greetings followed.

Changbin looked up from his phone again. “Welcome, human. We slaved away in this kitchen for hours just for you.”

Seungmin snorted. “You literally cut one vegetable and then sat down.”

Hyunjin pulled out a chair at the long wooden table, raising a brow at you. “Sit.”

You hesitated. “I already ate.”

A collective groan filled the kitchen.

You bit your lip. “I just assumed because vampire’s don’t eat that I wasn’t going to be fed…”

Jeongin spoke up. “It’s okay guys. She was trying to be considerate. We weren’t really getting anywhere anyway…” His eyes shifted to the piles of burnt meat on the counter.

Felix winced. “Yeah… turns out cooking isn’t exactly our strong suit.” His eyes lingered on you.

Minho scoffed, still stirring his pot with an air of superiority. “I was doing just fine until you guys started messing with the heat.”

“You were about to burn the garlic,” Han pointed out, leaning back in his chair.

“It’s called caramelization-”

“It caught on fire, Minho.”

You pressed your lips together, trying not to laugh as the group dissolved into bickering. The whole scene was so normal. You had expected something ominous, eerie, maybe even threatening. Instead, they felt like any other group of chaotic friends trying (and failing) to make dinner together.

Hyunjin sighed beside you, rubbing his temples. “This is why I told you to let me handle the cooking.”

Changbin smirked. “Yeah, but then we wouldn’t have gotten to see the sheer horror on your face when you walked in.”

Hyunjin muttered something under his breath before turning back to you. “Alright. How about we just head to my room?”

You nodded. “Okay. Thank’s for the thought guys.”

Seungmin chuckled to himself. “Just get out of here before Minho tries to force-feed you.”

Minho shot him a glare but didn’t argue. Instead, he turned his attention back to the pan, clearly determined to salvage whatever he could.

Hyunjin placed a hand on the small of your back, guiding you out of the kitchen. On your way out you saw that Felix was still looking at you. You stopped and raised an eyebrow at him.

His eyes widened. “Sorry. You’ve been in a lot of my visions. Seeing you in person is different.”

You nod and follow Hyunjin. As soon as you stepped into the hallway, the warmth of the kitchen faded, replaced by the quiet, eerie stillness of the rest of the mansion.

You followed him up another flight of stairs, the wooden steps creaking under your weight. “Is your room in the attic or something?” you asked, breaking the silence.

Hyunjin chuckled. “Something like that.”

Finally, he opened a door, revealing a surprisingly minimalistic space. The walls were lined with shelves filled with books, old drawings, and a few scattered trinkets. A large window overlooked the dark forest, the trees swaying slightly in the breeze. The only source of light was a single lamp.

You look around some more. “No bed?”

“I don’t sleep, remember?”

“Right.”

Your fingers skimmed across the spines of the books, some titles faded with time, others fresh. Some were in languages you didn’t recognize. Some looked handwritten, as if he had filled the pages himself.

Then, the sketches caught your attention.

Dozens of them, scattered across his desk, pinned to the walls, tucked into books like forgotten thoughts. Each one was breathtaking in its own right.

And then you saw yourself.

Your stomach flipped. “You… drew me?”

Hyunjin leaned against the window frame, arms crossed, watching you. “I draw whats on my mind.”

His words sent a thrill through you, a slow-building warmth curling in your chest. You swallowed, picking up one of the sketches and studying it. “And how long have I been on your mind?”

Hyunjin smirked, stepping closer, his presence like a shadow moving through the room. “Long enough.”

Your pulse quickened as he reached past you, his fingers barely grazing your wrist as he took the drawing from your hands. He studied it, as if seeing it through your eyes for the first time.

“I don’t usually draw people,” he murmured. “Not like this.”

You turned your head slightly, his face now inches from yours. The dim light caught the sharp angles of his features. He was close enough that you could see the slight flecks of gold in his brown eyes.

“Like what?” you asked softly.

His gaze flickered to your lips, then back to your eyes. “Like I want to remember every detail.”

Your breath hitched. The air between you felt fragile, electric. He reached up, trailing his fingers along the edge of your jaw, his touch cool against your skin.

“Are you always this intense?” you teased.

Hyunjin smiled, slow and knowing. “Only when it comes to things I don’t want to forget.”

You felt your breath catch as he leaned in, slow, deliberate, giving you just enough time to pull away if you wanted to. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

Your heart pounded in your chest as his lips brushed against yours, hesitant at first, as if testing the moment. Then, when you didn’t move away, he pressed in deeper, capturing your mouth with a quiet urgency. His hand slid to the nape of your neck, fingers tangling into your hair as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss.

He tasted cool, like something untouchable, yet here he was, pressing into you as if he needed this just as much as you did.

Your hands found his shoulders, feeling the tense muscle beneath your fingertips, as if holding him in place, afraid he might disappear like a dream if you let go.

Hyunjin exhaled softly against your lips, his other hand ghosting down your waist, barely touching, yet setting your skin on fire. He kissed like he drew. Carefully. He has an artist’s precision as if memorizing every curve, every response, every small hitch of your breath.

Then, just as slowly as it started, he pulled back, his forehead resting against yours. His hands were still resting on you as if he wasn’t ready to let go. Your own breathing was uneven, your heart racing in a way that had nothing to do with fear.

“You’re warm,” he murmured, almost to himself. “I forget what that feels like.”

“And?” you asked softly, tilting your head just enough to meet his gaze.

A small smile tugged at his lips. “I think I like it.”

Slowly, your hands slid down his arms, fingertips skimming over the fabric of his shirt. “Do you always do this?” you asked, voice light but teasing. “Lure unsuspecting humans into your attic just to kiss them?”

“If I said you were the first would you believe me?”

“Proably not.”

“You should. You mean a lot to me.”

“Hyunjin-” you started, but he shook his head, his fingers ghosting over your cheek.

“I’m serious,” he murmured. “You’re not just some fleeting thought, not just another sketch on my wall. You’ve been in my head for longer than I even realized.”

Your heart pounded, warmth spreading through your chest at the way he looked at you like you were something precious, something worth remembering.

“I don’t usually get attached,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But with you… I don’t think I have a choice.” He chuckled. “Which is funny because that’s usually what the mortal is supposed to feel about a vampire. Not the other way around.”

You swallowed, trying to steady yourself under the weight of his words. “You make it sound like a bad thing.”

His lips twitched. “Maybe it is. Maybe you’re the most dangerous thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Then he kissed you again, slower this time, as if savoring every second, as if he wanted to memorize exactly how you felt in his arms. And you let him.

Taglist: @beewilko @darklove2020 @antiyoubutimkidding

A/N: THANK YOU GUYS FOR THE LOVE ON THIS STORY SO FAR I DON'T HAVE WORDS TO DESCRIBE HOW GRATEFUL I AM. <3

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