#another new comment on the new chap looked familiar

[more-like-rocksiu]

i know everyone said this a million times but comments really save fics huh.

had a multichapter one that i havent worked on since last december, and then suddenly one nice comment a month ago and bam. new chapter. hahha

[notiddygothgf]

2/2

★ pairings: choso kamo x f!reader

★ synopsis: Yuuji Itadori truly was the best friend a girl like you could ask for, but he wasn't the only reason you came to visit. (His older brother, the devilishly handsome Choso Kamo, had always been the apple of your eye).

★ c.w.: slow burn, friends to lovers, eventual smut, childhood sweethearts, kinda, mutual pining, choso with a tongue piercing, rough sex, cunnilingus, backshots, unprotected sex, regular people au, two year age gap, PWP.

★ a/n: part two! its all smut lol. anyway, like I said, this one shot is finished (just split btw two chaps bc theres 11k words). but if u comment and persuade me who knows! I can always do another. im a whore for ur validation.

★ w.c.; 5k

best friend's brother ; chapter index

YUUJI COOCHIE <3

|  come over tn?

|  i got smth i wanna run by u first

YOU

|  omw.

You stood on Itadori’s porch, finger poised over the doorbell a month after your eighteenth birthday. You had been anticipating to see your best friend, Itadori. But as the door swings open, what you don’t expect is to come face to face with Itadori’s older brother.

Your heart drops, and your breath catches in your throat as you take in his appearance. It felt for a moment as if time had stood still since you last saw him. He had only grown more handsome during your time apart. His dark hair was done back into two messy buns, deep bags residing beneath his deep eyes. 

Choso looked absolutely breathtaking . His fitted black tee clung to his chest and arms, showing off his toned physique, while the baggy black sweats he was sporting gave him an effortlessly cool appearance.

His presence exudes a magnetic charm that takes you back to when you were 17. His half smirk sends a wonton shiver down your spine.

“Hey there,” He says, deep, rich voice sending ripples of familiarity throughout your body.

When his lips pull away from his teeth, forming syllables and words, you couldn’t help but notice a small glint of metal near the tip of his tongue. You realized immediately what had seemed so different about him, and your eyes widened in surprise.

“You pierced your tongue?” You blurt out, unable to hide your shock.

Choso nearly snorts, though his eyes never leave yours. “You’re not surprised to see me?” He teases.

“I am,” You retort quickly, trying to regain your composure. “You’re home for the holidays?”

He nods, gaze still fixed on your red face. “Just came home last night.”

That would explain why I didn’t see you, you thought.

“I’m glad you came, though, I’ve been holding onto your birthday gift for a while now,” He sighed, stepping aside to let you into the house but keeping his arm braced on the doorframe. 

You slide under his muscular arm, doing your best to ignore the way your body bristled with electricity when you brushed up against him.

You set your bag on the ground near the door, kicking off your shoes and neatly pushing them aside while Choso locked the door behind you. 

“It’s in my room,” he said, passing you.

You followed him nervously up the stairs into his bedroom, heart pounding a little louder with every step. This would be the first time you would find yourself alone in Choso’s room, and you couldn’t help but let your mind wander.

As you enter his bedroom, you drank in your surroundings – a rare sight. The room was a reflection of Choso’s personality; band tees all over the walls, sheets laid flat and clean, laundry sitting in a basket in a neat, folded pile – a subtle hint of organized chaos.

It felt both familiar and new at the same time. The air was thick with anticipation, and memories of your whirlwind summer fling with Choso came flooding back.

You brace your hands on the door. “Is Itadori home?” You ask him, hands tracing the doorframe while Choso rummaged through his drawer. You sat on his bed.

“Nah,” he replied casually.

Furrowing your brows, you tried to make sense of the situation. But told me to come over…

“Is he coming?” You tried again, voice tinged with uncertainty.

Choso rose up from the bedside drawer, extending a small box towards you with a slight grin. “Nope,” he said.

The realization hit you like a freight train. This was a fucking setup, and Itadori was the mastermind behind it all.

He wanted you alone with his brother. He knew about your fling with him. 

He didn’t notice when the two of you had disappeared to the pantry for ten minutes. 

Though the moment you returned to see him glancing at you with a curious brow raised, you knew he had finally caught on. Even if he didn’t say anything about it.

He knew.

He had set you up.

Your face was on fire. Still, you took the small box from Choso, an awkward smile on your face, and carefully undid the little bow. As you opened it, you revealed its contents – a tee shirt with Choso’s University crest on it, a glace pendant on a fabric necklace, and a box set of your favorite film saga.

Choso had never given you a gift for your birthday before, at least not anything beyond a card. Briefly, you wondered if it was his way of making up for your 18th birthday party, the one he had missed.

“Choso…” You began, a humorous grin on your lips. “Merch?”

He shrugged playfully, his gaze locked onto yours. “In case you miss me,” he replied, tone teasing yet sincere.

With a genuine smile, you leaned over and hugged him. “I love it,” you had told him.

Choso reached into the box for the necklace, gesturing for you to come closer. You leaned in, allowing him to loop the fabric over your head. His fingers brushed against your skin, your neck as he adjusted it.

He froze. You froze.

For a while, the room was quiet. There was an intense stare-off between you two. Choso cleared his throat, seemingly about to break the moment, but you had other plans. Gently, you gripped his chin between your index finger and your thumb, turning his head back to you. 

Gently, you tugged his lower lip down. He stuck his tongue out to wet the corner of his lips in return.

Your breath hitched as your gazes locked, and the air in the room shifted. Choso’s dark eyes shifted beneath your gaze, and you found yourself drawn closer to him.

You swallowed. “How bad did it hurt?” You asked, eyes fixed on the sliver of metal you had caught a glimpse of inside of his mouth.

Choso raised a finger towards his mouth, bringing your attention back to his tongue. “This?” He asked. “Hurt like a bitch, not gonna lie, but it healed up real nice.”

Wordlessly, he stuck his tongue out so you could see it up close. You examined it carefully – it really had healed up rather nicely. There was a small, silver ball wedged into the pink muscle. You wondered how it would feel on your lips, your neck, your body .

Choso closed his mouth. “I got it the first weekend after move-in day,” He explained.

“Why?” You inquired, curiosity finally getting the better of you.

He shrugged with a smirk, “Thought it would look hot. What do you think?”

“I think it looks like a pain in the ass,” You retorted. “Don’t any of the girls you kiss complain about that thing?”

“Quite the contrary,” he remarked, licking his lips. “Why’d you ask?”

You tried to ignore the jealousy that bubbled up inside of you, deep inside of you at the thought of him kissing other girls. You had to remind yourself who you were talking to here. You would have been naive to expect loyalty from a college freshman.

“Looks cold,” you commented instead. “I don’t imagine that would feel very good.”

And his eyes, those dark, beautiful cesspools of emotion, dropped down to your lips, lingering for a moment too long before returning to meet your gaze. “You wanna find out?” He asked.

“Piss off,” You scoffed, hitting him playfully on the shoulder. But the blush on your cheeks betrayed the effect his words had on you. “Fuckin’ tease.”

He didn’t move back. No, instead, he leaned in a little closer. “You sure?” He whispered, warm breath grazing the shell of your ear. “I can show you how good it feels, if you want.”

And that’s how you wound up here, with his face buried between your legs. He kissed his way up and down the skin of your thighs. You made quick work of his twin buns, tugging the ties out of his hair.

His lips curled into a knowing smirk. He lifted one of your legs onto his broad shoulder, running his tongue along the length of your inner thigh, pressing a kiss right where your ass met your legs. The metal ball on his tongue felt odd against your skin, but not necessarily unpleasurable.

You had never gone this far with him before. You were turned on beyond comprehension, hungry eyes drinking in the rosey hue that dusted his pale complexion while he sucked on your skin – hard enough for it to hurt, hard enough to leave a mark. 

Tenderly, Choso reached for your panties. He appeared to be on the precipice of a decision. 

“Can I…” He panted, trailing his thumb over the thin piece of fabric that separated the two of you. “Can I take these off?”

You nodded quickly, lifting your hips up for him while he guided the panties off of your legs. 

He licked his lips and parted your legs a second time, fully exposing you to his ravenous gaze. 

“You look like heaven,” He breathed out, voice trembling. He took a moment to admire you, smiling at the way you tried to hide your face. “Wanna taste…”

You had never done this before. The one man you had ever dared to hook up with hadn’t bothered. So you swallowed the lump in your throat, watching him get down on all fours and dip his head down between your legs like a man with his head bowed in worship. 

Though you were far from holy, in that moment, you felt like you were God.

His tongue was hot and wet against your skin, licking a stripe from bottom to top. The metal ball of his tongue piercing caught on your puffy clit, eliciting a quiet gasp. 

“Feel good, baby?” He teased, relishing in the way your thighs tensed around his head. His eyes flitted between you and your pussy – spread open for him like a buffet – pupils blown wide with desire. His pink lips parted around his tongue a second time, and this time you watched him.

Watched him press the metal ball against your clit, rolling over it in slow, steady circles.

You felt like you could die here. 

He adjusted his grip on your hips, pulling you down on the bed until you felt his nose pressing in between your folds. He kissed your heat, moaning into you.  Then, without so much as a warning, he began to eat you out like a starved man.

“Fuck, Cho–” You cried out for him, reaching down to tangle your fingers into his inky black tresses. You had never felt so good in your life, like he had been waiting for this as long as you had. You were sensitive, far too sensitive to comprehend the way your body felt, the way his tongue piercing felt as it glided over your hot flesh.

He didn’t slow down. He licked, slurped, and kissed your swollen clit, keeping that unforgiving pace up until your hips began to jump against his tongue.

“Shit,” You hissed,

He moaned into you in response, meeting your gaze with an intense fire burning behind his eyes. His tongue massaged you up to what you know would be the hardest orgasm of your life – that damn piece of metal made for one hell of a stimulant. It felt like it was pressing right up into your pressure points, deeper than his tongue was able to reach.

You felt yourself come apart at the seams, reduced to a moaning mess in a matter of minutes, riding his tongue like your life depended on it. He stopped moving for a moment, letting you grip him by the hair and ride his face. 

You couldn’t look away.

He looked amazing, fire burning behind his eyes, fingertips biting into the skin of your thighs, brows furrowed with concentration. His eyes never left yours, not even once.

You dropped your head onto the pillow, sitting back and allowing him to resume what he had been doing earlier – that thing with his tongue. 

And resume it he did, assuming a more demanding pace this time. It almost made you want to cry – the pace, the ball on his tongue – it was almost too much to bear. It felt so good.

You felt that familiar coil in your abdomen, almost like you were about to cum, then in a moment’s width he had pulled away. 

You struggled to regain your surroundings, vision cloudy and hazy with pleasure. You could hear your rampant heartbeat racing in your own ears. 

Choso leaned back with a stretch, cracking his neck and licking his lips. The entirebottom half of his face was drenched, dripping with an obscene mixture of your slick and his spit. 

He looked gorgeous, even when his face was tinted red. 

“Choso…” You breathed, letting a breathless chuckle slip between your parted lips.

He grinned back at you. “Any complaints?”

You didn’t glorify him with a response, gripping him by the fabric of his shirt and tugging him up and over you. You searched for his lips, locking them between yours in a messy, heated kiss. The taste of you lingered on his tongue, tangy and a little sweet.

“Shut up and fuck me, Kamo,” You panted with a grin of your own.

That was all he needed to push you onto your back, diving back in to ravage your lips again. It was all a rushed, passionate haze – he tugged your tee shirt over your head, you shoved your skirt down to your ankles and kicked it off the side of the bed. He leaned back with a stretch to reach for the back of his shirt, tugging it over his head and flinging it to the side. 

Your mouth nearly watered for him. He was everything you had dreamed of and so much more. Well defined arms, pecs, abs – a few tattoos littered the broad expanse of his chest. His torso tapered down into a thin, slutty waist. You let your hand slide down his abdomen, eliciting a quiet groan from him as your painted fingernails caught on his toned abs, ghosted over the large tent in his sweats that left nothing to the imagination. 

He was big. Bigger than you had anticipated. The last man you were with was about 3 inches (which was probably for the better, because it had been your first time). He felt about three times as big as that. Maybe more.

It didn’t take long for him to flip you onto your stomach, pulling your ass flush against his navel. He reached for a handful of your hair, jerking your head to the side, then uttered against your ear, “G’nna fuck that attitude right out’ta you.”

He left you for a moment while he undid the strings of his sweatpants. You couldn’t watch. You knew if you saw it, you would have doubts. 

But you found yourself looking back anyway, right as he had told you. “Wanna reach into that drawer and grab me a condom?”

“Are you um…” You swallowed. “You don’t have any diseases, do you?”

You knew you were clean because you were so disgusted by the man you had hooked up with before Choso that you’d taken yourself to the planned parenthood in town the day after to be tested. Even if you had used a condom.

Choso’s brow quirked up at that. “No, I don’t have any STDs. I get tested twice a year.”

Oh. Okay.

Again, you didn’t want to think about how many women had taken his dick before you. 

“Never gone raw before, though,” He mused quietly, hand rubbing mindless circles over the skin of your ass. 

“Really?” You asked.

“Is that a surprise?” He retorted, though he didn’t seem very hurt by your comment. “Can’t babytrap me.”

You thought about definitely didn’t think about Choso being a father. 

“Is there any way for you to, like…” You hummed, trailing off. Your inexperience had never been more disgustingly apparent. “Pull out?”

“You’re talking like this is your first time,” he laughed breathily.

You paused. His eyes widened.

“Is… this your first time?” He asked again.

“I had sex with this one guy from my class a while ago,” You said after an awkward silence. “He was small and, like, really bad at it.”

Choso seemed humored by your honest admission, though it came at the expense of your own embarrassment. “Why’d you go through with it, then?”

“I only did it to get back at you,” You turned your head back to the pillowcase below you. With a pout, you admitted, “Thought for some reason that by me having sex, I was proving something. I was younger and stupider, okay?”

“So… you’ve only had sex once?” He asked. You didn’t realize this was an interrogation. 

You nodded embarrasedly. Somehow this was more humiliating than being spread open for him like you were right now.

“You sure you want this?” He hummed, roaching forward to tuck your hair behind your ear. It was strangely intimate. When you nodded, he sighed. “We’ll go slow, then. I don’t wanna hurt you–”

“Don’t treat me like I’m fragile,” You cut him off, finally turning back to look at him. “I can take it, okay? Just answer the damn question.”

Choso leaned down over you, pinning you into the bed, kissing down your spine. “We can… do backshots,” he murmured against your skin. “Want that?”

“Mhm,” You sighed, easing into his touch.

You had waited far too long for this for something like a condom to get in between the two of you. You wanted to feel him. All of him. 

Choso rolled back, slipping his tip between your fold and swiping it through your slick. You watched him, watched the way he bit his lip at the sensation, eyes glued onto the place where you met him . 

He pursed his lips, letting spit fall from his lips. You watched it dribble down, landing right onto your twitching hole. 

That was so fucking hot .

Then, without a word of warning, he pushed the tip in. You gasped at the sudden intrusion, feeling the burn, the stretch of his girth inside of you. He paused for a moment when the tip was the only thing inside of you, brows drawn together, breaths shallow.

It took everything you had not to cry out in pain. You had been waiting your whole life for this.

But, shit, it hurt. He was big. You felt your body struggle to accommodate him.

Maybe some prep should have been in order…

Oh well, gotta see it through.

As if sensing your internal dilemma, Choso reached down, intertwining his fingers with yours. He placed a soft kiss to the back of your neck. 

“You okay?” He asked you.

No . Yes.

“Yeah,” You bit out. “Just… I ‘jus need a minute.”

“Just tell me when,” he pressed another kiss to your hot skin. “You’re doing so good.”

It took you a few more minutes to adjust to him. Every minute, he would slip in a little further, just enough to make your skin hot and flushed. You could feel him throbbing inside of you, throbbing against your spongy walls.

Eventually, you gave him the green light. And, fuck, it was like something inside of him had snapped. He slid the rest of the way in until his hips were flush with your ass. He drew out, slowly, then thrust back in again.

It felt like he was pulling you apart over and over again, snapping his hips against yours in a progressively harder fashion. 

Choso whimpered quitedly, pausing his harsh movements to change pace. You clenched around him in response, something that made him double over. “Ah, fuck,” He gasped. “You feel so fuckin’ good.”

He drew back, thrusting into you once more. You felt your whole body jolt forward with a loud moan of your own.

With wild, passionate eyes, Choso pulled out again, leaving just enough room for the tip. Then, he slammed back into you. Again, again, again – he was relishing in the way you cried into the pillow.

“Fuck, fuck,” You chanted, like some sort of sinful prayer. “ Fuck me, Cho– ”

“Might not last long if you keep callin’ my name like that,” He gasped, tangling a large hand into your messy tresses and gripping it tightly. 

You drew your brows together, allowing yourself to be lost in the pleasure, the attention he was giving you. What would Itadori think, you wondered, if he walked in on you like this – face down ass up in his big brother’s bed?

“Choso ,” You groaned into the pillow. It felt like he was scratching an itch deep inside of you – not your coochie, but your soul. It felt like you were made for this. “ Choso, Fuck. ”

Itadori slipped into his house with a quiet sigh. He kicked his shoes off, set his bag down on the floor, and then reached for his scarf. It had been one long, hellish day. He felt bad making you wait for him, but he didn’t doubt that you would have made yourself right at home in his bedroom by now. You were probably sprawled out over his bed, passed out or playing with his PS5.

He froze when he heard something come from upstairs. It sounded like furniture being moved around, or something like that. There were voices, too.

With knitted brows, he walked hesitantly towards the stairs. Was it coming from up there?

“Fuck, Choso,” He heard a vaguely familiar – albeit very muffled voice – moan. 

It was you. You and another muffled voice.

“Choso, Choso!” 

“Right there?”

“Fuck– yes! Don’t stop!”

He quirked a brow. Then, with a sigh and a dejected shake of his head, he hid away in the kitchen.

“Please!” You gasped, you fumbled around behind you in search of his hand. He grabbed it, pinning your arm behind your back and thrusting into your sore pussy from a new angle – one that made you feel dizzy. You didn’t know how long the two of you had been going at it. All you knew was that you never wanted it to end, that your mind was a blissful haze.

Your body slid up against the bedsheets – up and down, up and down, clenched fingers leaving wrinkles in their wake. 

“Fuck me harder,” You pled.

And fuck you harder he sure did. His chest rolled against your backside, pinning you into the mattress and holding you right where he wanted you. Then he fucked you a little harder.

You were all but screaming his name at that point. “Choso–” 

The head of his cock was bullying into you, beating against that spot deep within you that made your feet fly up, rubbing the back of his thighs as if to tell him ‘ keep going’.You gripped the sheets with unwarranted strength, feeling yourself drip and clench around him – hearing the obscene squelch you made when the two of you met in the middle. 

“ Fu-u-uck ,” You cried, voice high and weak.

“Quit suckin’ me in like that,” He chuckled, though it was cut short by a deep, guttural groan as you did it again. “ Shit , you want kids or somethin’?”

There was a knot in your stomach. A vaguely familiar warmth that seemed to only grow hotter by the second.

“ So perfect, so wet ,” Choso commended you, licking the shell of your ear, peppering butterfly kisses to the back of your neck. Your name fell out of his pretty lips between a cacophony of sinful noises.

You felt yourself get lost in him, craning your head around to take another look at him. His angelic face, scrunched up with pleasure, mouth hanging open just slightly, pale face dusted with pink. Inky black hair plastered to his forehead and neck with sweat. The muscles in his chest and torso rippled.

“I’ve wanted you…” You gasped, trying your best to articulate despite the stimulation he was giving you – it was almost too much. “Since I was young – fuck .”

His hips stuttered. He pulled your hair away from your neck, kissing the junction where your jaw met your neck. 

He gripped your hair to crane your head back, slowing his thrusts to long, deep strokes that had you trembling. 

“The feeling was mutual,” Choso grunted, trying to keep himself together.

You felt your eyes roll almost all the way back into your fucking head, mouth hanging open, drooling shamelessly on his pillow, his sheets.

You were close. So close.

Those deep, lust-filled eyes of him weren’t doing anything to slow the train that was coming. Each thrust, each slide of his cockhead against your g-spot brought you closer and closer to the edge.

“You feel even better than I imagined,” He growled, and you nearly came right then and there. 

He moved his hands so that your hips were up in the air for him, bringing his other arm around your neck to pin you there. When he picked up pace this time, you felt yourself drip – like, actually drip – all over him.

I wanna have his kids .

Your moans and pleas matched the pace of his sloppy thrusts. He was getting close, too. You could hear it. No, seriously, noises like that should have been criminal.

The feeling of being filled by him was driving you up the wall – almost as hard as he was currently driving you into the mattress. You never wanted it to end. 

But, shit, it was about to.

“Choso,” You whimpered. He didn’t slow down. “Think ‘m g’nna cum.”

“Yeah?” he gritted out, breath fanning over your neck and your cheek. He reached a hand down, releasing your neck to rub slow circles on your puffy clit – a speed that felt foreign compared to the harsh strokes he was giving you, but not entirely unwelcome.

That was all it took to have you hurling towards the edge, ass jumping up and down to meet his thrust in the middle, to take as much of him in as you possibly could.

“Yeah, shit,” He gasped. He was trying to hold on for you, but you were making it realhard. “G’nna cum for me, baby? Lemme fuckin’ hear it.”

You were all but throwing it back on him, mindlessly chasing your release like a bitch in heat. The moment you got the green light, your orgasm snapped. You cried out his name one final time, arching your back all the way into the sheets, spasming wildly around him. The shock tore through you in waves.

Your hips jolted with hypersensitivity while he fucked you through it.

Choso’s hips stuttered. He twitched, like he couldn’t take another minute of this, then he remarked, “That was so fuckin’ hot, holy shit – fuck, wait–”

He slid out of you rapidly, leaving you to gasp at the sudden loss of him. The next thing you know, he was stroking himself to completion. He came with a broken whimper of your name, spurting ropes of warm cum all over your back.

You took a moment to catch your breath. He did the same. A few moments, actually.

The silence that followed was deafening. He groaned, running a shaky hand through his hair. You collapsed into the bed.

He had left the bedside at one point, though only for a moment before he returned with a warm wash rag. He cleaned his love paint off of your spine.

Then, tossing the rag into his hamper, he collapsed next to you.

You chuckled breathlessly, throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him with all of the strength you had left in you (not much). “Shit…” 

“Shit,” he agreed, licking his lips. “You were great.”

“You were better,” You said. “I don’t think I’ll be able to walk home tonight, though.”

Choso shrugged. He reached down, pulling the covers over the two of you. “Sleep here, then.”

Sleep here.

You recalled many nights of him walking girls to the door. Choso never let girls stay the night.

He wants me to spend the night with hiim.

You laughed, reveling in the irony of it all. Years and years of pining led you here, to this. “What would Itadori think?”

Choso threw an arm over your waist, pulling you closer to his side. “Fuck what Itadori thinks.”

Your world went black a moment later.

Your eyes fluttered open as you lay in the aftermath of a steamy evening with the man of your dreams. Choso, your best friend’s brother. The one you had fucked.

His lips were pressed into the slightest pout. You watched him snore, taking note of how peaceful he looked while he slept, taking note of the way his tousled black hair fell into his pretty face.

With a contented sigh, you reached for a shirt that lay nearby – his shirt. The one he had taken off yesterday. You slipped out from beneath the covers, padding quietly out of Choso’s bedroom. Your feet were quiet against the wooden steps.

As you entered the living room space, you contemplated sneaking into the kitchen in search of some much-needed sustenance. It had to have been later in the afternoon at that point – you assumed that you and Choso had been sleeping for a few hours, at least. Your stomach grumbled in agreement.

Just as you were about to step into the familiar kitchen, however, you froze. There, sitting at the table, munching on a Kit Kat bar like it was no one’s business, was her best friend. 

Itadori.

“Hey…” You said rather awkwardly, heart racing. “You’re… you’re home.”

Itadori quirked a brow, looking you up and down curiously. His eyes noticeably lingered on your neck, right were you had a sneaking suspicion Choso had marked you with his lips and teeth. 

“Hey,” He finally said. “You two finally done up there?”

“You heard that. Of course you did,” You sighed, dropping your stiff arms and plopping into the stool next to him at the kitchen island. You faceplanted into the cold surface, groaning, “How much did you hear?”

“Enough to know my brother’s good in bed,” Itadori took another bite. He placed a heart over his chest, feigning an exaggerated cry of, “ Choso– oh, Choso, don’t stop, I’m cu–”

“He told me you weren’t coming home,” You groaned, even louder this time. You were glad that Itadori couldn’t see the nasty shade of red that had painted your features.

“He lied,” Your best friend chuckled, crumpling the wrapper of his Kit Kat bar and tossing it in the trash bin. He stood off, dusting his hands on his pants, reaching for his phone. Then, like nothing had happened, he said,  “I’m ordering Chinese. You want?”

You raised your head at that, taking a slow glance at the room around the two of you. “I could go for some beef and broccoli…”

You loved the bond you had with Yuuji. Unbreakable, truly. Sometimes a little toocomfortable. This was, undoubtedly, one of those times.

Itadori dialed a few numbers into his phone. He paused, raising his brow again, “I think you’ve had enough meat tonight, don’t you?”

“Shut the fuck up,” You sighed, though you laughed a bit at his joke. 

Images of Choso flashed through your mind. The image of him spitting on the tip before slipping it in. The image of him tangling a fist in your hair, craning your head back to look at him while he pounded you into the mattress.

With a faint smirk of your own, you remarked. “You’re probably right. I should save room for all of the meat I’m gonna be eatin’ tonight after you go to bed.”

“Please shut up,” Itadori sighed, running the palms of his hands over his exasperated face. With a shake of his head, he held the phone up to his ear. “I really don’t want to think about my brother putting his dick in you. Not while dinner is also in the question.”

You shrugged. Your phone buzzed. Turning it over, you read the new message you had received.

CHOSO    just now

Whered u go beautiful

Your phone chimed a second time.

CHOSO    just now

Steamed dumplings n fried rice plz

You turned the screen over with a grin, telling Itadori. “Your brother wants steamed dumplings and fried rice.”

“I’d say fuck my brother, but tonight’s game night and I don’t want you taking that literally,” Itadori sighed. Still, he unmuted himself, telling the woman on the other side of the phone, “Another order of fried rice and dumplings, too, please.”

Yuuji Itadori really was the best friend a girl like you could ask for.

a/n: hi there my little steamed dumplins <33 lmk what u thought!!! I love reading ur comments and dms. again, this is a one shot, but I would totally drop another part if yall would like -- gotta show papa choso some love. comment and lmk what u think pookiesss

comments + reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

I obviously do not own jjk or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

taglist: @missphanosaur18 ,

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[satorulovebot]

cursed seas chapter six | the lakes

pairing — satoru gojou x fem!reader

summary — all your life you’ve been taught to hate pirates and the sins they have committed against god. you've always strived to be a good citizen upholding the law and avoiding the lawless, but when you meet the infamous captain gojou, known to be dangerous and cunning, you realize that survival in this world often requires sacrifices. sometimes, that sacrifice is your sanity.

word count — 5.6k

warnings — nsfw (minors dni), explicit sexual content, fellatio, cunnilingus, explicit smut, profanity, alcohol consumption, heavy angst, age difference

notes — this is like my second time writing smut in like 2 years gimmie a break pls. anyways. hello to my cursed seas babies, don't worry i will never abandon my og child you can be assured its my first priority, unless i have writers block which unfortunately happened and thats why this chapter is short and why i SEVERELY dislike it. enjoy ;)

series masterlist // pinterest moodboard // general masterlist

♪ the lakes — taylor swift

previous chap. you're on your own, kid | next chap. (coming coon)

The morning sun filtered through the curtains of your father's small, cozy home, casting warm light across the room as you silently folded the last of your clothing into a worn leather bag.

Your father sat at the table in the dining room, watching you with a pensive expression, his hands resting on his lap. It had been a few days since you returned to Elysport, and in that time, he had treated you like the little girl he had lost so many years ago. Considering your relationship over the last few years, the affection he had shown you was more than you had expected.

“Are you sure you want to go? There might be another way to find out what happened to your mother.” 

You paused, looking down at your packed bag before facing him. “Father I’m sure. There are things I need to know—about Mom. And I think this is the only way I will get any answers.”

He frowned, his brows furrowing. “Alright, but promise me something—promise me you’ll be safe.”

You nodded. “I promise,” you whispered.

He wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug. You didn't want to leave, not really. This small part of Elysport, your father’s home—it was a sanctuary compared to the madness of the ship you were about to return to. But you had made your choice and you knew that you couldn’t stay here forever.

“I’ll be back,” you said softly, “Soon.”

Your father smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll be here, waiting.” 

With a final glance around the room, you hoisted your bag over your shoulder and headed for the door. 

Making your way through the streets of Elysport gave you time to think about what going back to Gojou’s ship meant. And it meant diving headfirst into a world of chaos once again and having to face him after everything that had happened.

And you didn't like that idea. 

The docks soon came into view and you could see the massive silhouette of Gojou’s ship towering above the rest. You hesitated as you stood at the pier's edge, watching crew members bustling about, preparing for the next leg of their journey. 

Taking a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and began walking toward the gangplank. You found him near the helm overseeing his ship as he usually would. When he spotted you approaching, his eyes widened briefly before narrowing in that familiar way that made your stomach twist.

“Back already?”

You set your bag down, taking a deep breath before answering. “I told you I’d be back last night.”

Gojou’s eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite place. He looked at you for a moment before shrugging and turning his attention back to the crew.

"Well, you're just in time. We're setting sail soon. Grab your things and get ready." 

You waited for more—some snide comment, some half-hearted insult—but it never came. His voice lacked that usual bite and he avoided directly looking at you, which was strange in itself. 

It was strange, this new version of him—one that didn’t bark orders or throw insults your way at every opportunity. 

It was... comforting in a way.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of something bright—a familiar tuft of pink hair. Yuuji was perched high in the crow's nest, his energy impossible to miss, even from afar.  He instantly noticed you, his face lighting up as he waved enthusiastically, calling your name across the deck. You couldn’t help but smile, a warmth spreading through you at the sight of him. His energy was infectious and his kindness was a rare comfort. You lifted your hand in return, waving back.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, you found yourself standing near the railing watching the waves lap against the side of the ship. You heard footsteps behind you and turned to see Captain Gojou approaching.

He leaned against the railing beside you, his gaze fixed on the horizon. For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching between the two of you like a taught wire.

“You won’t ask why I let you back so easily?” 

You glanced at him, surprised by the question. “I figured you just wanted to get rid of me as soon as possible,” you said, your words laced with a hint of bitterness.

Gojou chuckled, though there was no real humor in it. “Yeah, well... maybe I’m not as heartless as you think.”

You raised an eyebrow, not sure if you believed him. “Could’ve fooled me.”

He winced at that, and for a moment, you thought he might snap back at you, but instead, he just sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m not good at this... at any of this. You want to hate me, I get that. Hell, maybe I deserve it. But I’m trying, alright?” His words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. The Gojou standing next to you wasn’t the arrogant, reckless captain you had grown accustomed to.

“I don’t hate you,” you said quietly. “But you make it really hard sometimes.”

Gojou let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’m good at that.” He paused, his expression softening. “But I meant what I said. You did good back there. And... I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you.”

You couldn’t help but wonder if maybe the Gojou who you had kissed so desperately in that hotel room was not as far away as you thought. The waves lapped steadily against the ship’s hull, the sound calming as you stood in silence next to Gojou.

“About earlier,” he began. “When I left your room… I just—” He paused, seemingly frustrated, like he was trying to find the right words. “I didn’t mean to be such an ass.”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden confession. “You always mean to be an ass.”

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But not like that. Not this time.”

You turned to face him, fully leaning against the railing. The fading evening light casting shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw and the pale strands of his hair that moved gently with the breeze. When you looked at him, you didn’t see the infamous captain you had grown to know—he looked… tired. 

“It’s not like you to apologize. What’s going on?”

He frowned, his gaze dropping to the deck below, his hand absently drumming against the wooden railing. “I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “It’s just… you’ve been different. This whole situation has been different.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he began slowly, as if testing each word before saying it, “I don’t know why I keep pushing you away when I don’t want to.”

Your heart fluttered at his confession. He wasn’t the type to open up easily—especially about things like this. And for him to admit that he didn’t want to push you away… it was almost too much to process.

“But you do,” you pointed out, your voice barely above a whisper. “You push me away every chance you get.”

He let out a long sigh, his head dropping for a moment before he straightened, running a hand through his hair. “I know. It’s just… easier, I guess.” His gaze finally met yours, and the sincerity in his blue eyes was enough to take your breath away. “I’ve lost a lot of people. Crew, friends, family.” His voice grew quieter. “It’s easier not to get attached.”

“And me?” you asked softly, your voice barely above the sound of the waves. “Am I just another person to lose?”

Gojou hesitated, his gaze never leaving yours. “I don’t want you to be.”

This wasn’t just the arrogant, reckless captain speaking—this was Satoru, the man behind the mask. And the way he looked at you in that moment, like he was finally seeing you for the first time, sent a shiver down your spine.

Before you could say anything more, Gojou spoke again, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. “You’re really leaving your father for this?” he asked, his eyes flicking to your bag.

You nodded. “I need to know the truth about what happened to my mother. And… I need to find that treasure and be with the map.”

A shadow crossed his face at the mention of the map, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he turned his gaze back to the horizon, his jaw clenched tight. You knew he didn’t like talking about the map—it was the one thing that seemed to come between the two of you time and time again.

“I’ll take you back onboard. But I need you to understand something.” He turned to face you fully now, his expression serious. “This isn’t a game. Whatever you’re getting yourself into with Sukuna, it’s dangerous. It's more dangerous than you realize. I don’t trust him or whatever he is up to.”

Sukuna. 

That must have been the man with the pink hair you were talking to in the marketplace. You didn’t expect Gojou to know who he was, or at least know him enough to have that look on his face.

“I know,” you said quietly, meeting his gaze. “But I have to do this.”

Then, slowly, Gojou nodded, as if finally accepting your decision. “Fine,” he said, his voice resigned. “But if anything happens, I’ll kill Sukuna myself.”

Without another word, Gojou turned and began walking back toward the ship, his usual swagger returning with each step. You followed, your heart pounding in your chest, the thought of what lay ahead heavy on your mind.

Captain Gojou leaned against the ship's railing, gazing out at the ocean and the small port where they’d docked. The sun had dipped below the horizon, and workers from the docks were beginning to head home. His crew had grown restless after days without a break, so he’d ordered a stop at a quieter port for some shore leave. But he hadn’t been completely honest about why he gave the order—it was mostly for the map. He wanted a chance to study it carefully and had recently decided they would soon start the journey it promised, especially now that you had rejoined them. The treasure it led to was dangerous, and he knew he’d need a solid plan if he, you, and his crew were going to make it out alive.

After a moment of contemplation, he looked over his shoulder and spotted you coming up from below deck. He grinned, giving you a casual wave. “Looks like everyone’s scattered,” he said. “You wanna go for a walk?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Uh, sure. But what’s the reason?”

“Because I asked you nicely, Y/N.”

“Fine, I could use some fresh air anyway. Your ship’s unnaturally stuffy.”

Before the two of you departed the ship, Gojou made his way to his captain’s quarters to stow the map away safely. You assumed it was for security reasons, considering how much of a pain in the ass he’d been when trying to take it from you. After he returned, you both took off your shoes and walked down the gangplank together, stepping into the shallow water and heading down the beach toward the port town. Gojou’s ship was too large to fit in the small port, so he’d had to anchor it a little way off the coast. It was a bit of a hassle, but you didn’t mind.

You and Gojou had made it halfway down the beach before he broke the silence. "You know, I wasn't born a pirate."

You turned to him, surprised by his revelation. "Really? I wouldn't have guessed. Although, now that I think about it, you seem like a child who was spoiled far more than he should have been."

He gave a small shrug. "Pretty much. When I was a child, I ran away from home. I had met a young pirate, the same age as me, and he showed me another side of life. The place where I grew up felt like a prison and I wanted out."

"Oh. What happened?" you asked quietly.

"My family… my family had high expectations for me. They expected me to marry another girl from a rich family, a girl I had never met, a girl I didn't love. They expected me to be the head of the family when my father died and live up to the Gojou family legacy. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I left in the middle of the night. No one came looking, either.” His voice softened. “Guess they were happy to be rid of me.”

"Was it hard to live like that?"

"I stole for a little while, I had no name, no ship, and barely any money. After a few months to a year, I was able to make a living for myself and I never looked back."

“You never went back? Not even to see how your family is doing?”

"No, my father was a bastard and could have given two shits about how his own family felt about him. I actually spent some time living in Saltstone Port when I was eighteen, it wasn't too bad. You used to live there, right?"

Wait how did he know that?

"Anyway, we're almost there, do you wanna find a bar? Since you know, you like drinking."

“Who said I like drinking?”

“I did,” he said with a smirk.

And that's how the two of you found yourself in a dimly lit corner of a booth, ordering round after round as a way to “unwind” as Gojou said. Somehow, unwinding meant downing enough drinks to make the room spin. 

“To—” He paused, squinting at you. “To us, and to making it through yet another day without you murdering me,” he toasted, raising his mug with a smirk. You clinked your glass against his as you sipped, feeling the warmth of the alcohol seep into your veins. As the alcohol loosened you up, you began telling Captain Gojou things you shouldn’t have, things you probably won’t remember in the morning.

As the night went on, the two of you began inching closer and closer to each other. At some point, he’d moved his arm around your shoulders, and you’d stopped noticing, letting yourself melt into his warmth.

“Y’know,” he slurred, eyes glassy as he looked at you. “I always thought I was fine alone.”

You tilted your head, blinking slowly as you tried to focus on his face, which kept swimming in and out of view. “That so?” you mumbled, giggling as you took another sip of your drink. “Thought you liked being all ‘mysterious and distant,’ Captain.”

“I… I dunno.”

Your heart did a funny little skip, and you glanced up at him, your gaze meeting his. “Maybe it’s the drinks talking,” he muttered.  “Or maybe it’s just…you make things… less lonely.”

Gojou,” you started, but before you could finish, he leaned in, his lips brushing your forehead in a clumsy, affectionate gesture.

“I like having you around,” he mumbled. His gaze flicked down to the empty glasses on the table. “But we should… get back to the ship, yeah?”

You could barely remember the journey back to the ship. When you made it back to his ship, you stumbled towards his captain’s quarters, exhausted from your night out. As you reached his bed, you tugged on your shirt, frowning. “Ugh, I can’t sleep in this. It’s filthy.” The fabric was sticky and wrinkled, and the thought of crawling into bed with it on was almost unbearable.

Gojou chuckled, leaning against the doorframe with a lopsided grin. “You’re a bit of a handful, you know that?”

Ignoring his teasing, you started to strip off your clothes, too tired and too drunk to care about modesty. You caught the faintest widening of his eyes before he quickly looked away, a strange sort of awkwardness flashing over his face.

“Better than being boring,” you retorted, your voice muffled as you ducked under the covers, the warmth of the bed wrapping around you. The soft linens felt heavenly, and you sank into them with a sigh, your eyes already drifting shut.

“Goodnight, Gojou,” you murmured, barely managing to keep your eyes open as you watched him from beneath half-closed lids.

“Goodnight,” he said softly. He hesitated, his hand resting on the doorframe for a moment longer, before he finally slipped out of the room, leaving you to the gentle lull of sleep.

When morning came, the sunlight filtered softly through the small window. You stretched, blinking sleepily as you tried to make sense of your surroundings. The memory of the previous night came flooding back, and as you shifted beneath the covers, you became very aware that you were still bare under the blanket. You stifled a groan, recalling your insistence on sleeping without your filthy clothes, and your face flushed with embarrassment. At least Gojou had seemed too out of it to really care.

Quickly, you climbed out of bed, searching the room until you found your discarded clothes from the night before. You tugged them on hastily, smoothing out the wrinkles and trying to compose yourself as best you could.

You stepped out onto the deck, the salty morning air filling your lungs as you glanced around. You wanted to ask him something, and to ask him that something you needed to find him first. You managed to find him perched on a higher part of the deck. Noticing your footsteps, he turned around and before he could speak you opened your mouth first.

“I need a bath.”

The words left your mouth with a bluntness that surprised even you. You were covered in grime from the ship and smelled like salt from the sea, it made every inch of your skin itch for a proper soak. After days of being at sea, all you wanted to do was feel clean.

“Well, this place doesn’t exactly have the best facilities for that,” he said, surveying the streets. “But… I might know a spot.”

You tilted your head. “Not exactly helpful, Captain.”

“Follow me, then. It’s a bit of a walk, but if you’re willing, I’ll show you a river that’s a hell of a lot nicer than any of the baths in town.”

You and Gojou made your way out of the port city and through winding paths that eventually opened up to a dense forest just beyond the edge of town. Gojou was quiet as he guided you through the bush towards the spot, glancing back at you every now and then.

The two of you reached a clearing where the trees parted to reveal a serene river winding through the open land. The water sparkled underneath the sun, so crystal clear and inviting it nearly hurt to look at.

“Not bad, huh?” Gojou said, standing beside you.

“It’s… beautiful.”

Gojou shrugged, feigning indifference. “It’ll do the job. Go on.”

Your gaze looked to him as he leaned against a tree, arms crossed, watching you with a smirk. “What, you think I’m just going to strip down right here?” you teased.

“Not my fault if you can’t handle a little river bath. Besides, who’s gonna see?”

With a deep breath, you started to peel off your outer layers, feeling the rough fabric leave your skin before carefully folding it on a rock nearby. You kept your eyes trained on the river, trying to ignore that he was sneaking glances, but you secretly didn’t mind. You turned to meet his gaze before turning your back to him, realizing how close the two of you actually were.

Once you shimmied out of the rest of your clothes, you waded into the river, the chill of the water sending goosebumps through your body. You went deeper into the water, washing away the grime and heat of the day. When you turned back, you saw that Gojou hadn't moved from his spot; he simply watched from where he stood.

“You know, the water’s plenty big enough for two,” you called out to him, splashing in his direction with a grin. “Or are you too scared of a little cold?”

Something mischievous sparkled in his eyes. You think I’m scared of a little cold water?”

He began unbuckling his belt with a smirk, tugging his shirt over his head and dropping it onto the ground. His toned frame caught the sunlight, the faint scars scattered across his torso telling stories he rarely spoke of. “Let’s see who’ll be begging to get out first,” he teased.

Your eyes trailed down his body as he began walking into the water. When your eyes made it toward his pelvis before you had to stop yourself from going any lower, reminding yourself it was indecent.

“It's as warm as the sea,” you teased, floating on your back and letting the gentle current carry you.

“No, but it’s a hell of a lot quieter.”

The two of you were naked, but you didn’t seem to mind, and neither did he.

“So, where did you learn to be so comfortable in the water?” he asked, kicking lazily as he floated beside you.

“My father,” you replied, glancing up at the canopy of leaves overhead. “He used to bring me to rivers like this when I was a kid. Said it was the best way to wash away the world for a while.”

Gojou nodded thoughtfully, his eyes studying you. “Smart man.”

​​You chuckled, meeting his gaze again. “He is. Sometimes I wonder if I’m disappointing him by being… here.” You gestured around you. “Running off to play pirate with people that are hardly respectable.”

“You’re not disappointing anyone,” he murmured, the words so soft you almost missed them. “And, honestly, I think it’s brave. Not many would have the guts to do what you’ve done.”

“Thanks,” you said quietly.

Gojou continued to float nearby as sunlight filtered through the trees overhead. He didn't try to hide the way his eyes roamed over your body, and you could feel he was growing bolder by the minute.

"You know, you clean up real nice," he muttered, his voice lower than usual.

You let out a small chuckle, feeling your cheeks warm under his intense stare. "I could say the same for you."

Silence enveloped the two of you as he drifted closer, standing up when he got close to you. You were in a shallow part of the water, which made the water about waist height. It was unfortunate that it was the only thing that covered his lower half because it was see-through. His fingers came up to brush your arm, lingering for a moment too long, the feeling sending a shiver down your spine.

Without thinking, you closed the distance between you two, standing so close that you could feel his warm breath fan your face. His hand drifted to your waist, feeling the soft, plush skin before sliding his hand around your back as his other hand came up to trace along your jaw. When you leaned in, you found yourself tilting your head up, your lips parting instinctively.

The kiss was soft at first, testing the waters in a way the two of you had only done once before. But then the kiss deepened, his fingers tightening on your waist as if he was afraid to let go. You let yourself melt into him, your own hands finding their way to his broad shoulders as you traced the muscles there, losing yourself in the kiss.

Gojou shifted the two of you, pressing you gently against the smooth edge of a nearby rock. One hand braced himself beside you against the rock with the other made its way down your backside.

His lips trailed along your jawline, sending sparks throughout your body, and when he kissed you again, it was like he was claiming something he had not dared touch before.

The kiss slowed as both of you caught your breath, still tangled in each other's arms as you steadied yourselves. Gojou's lips hovered near yours, his expression filled with desire.

"Hey," he murmured, brushing a damp strand of hair from your face. “If you're up for it… we don’t have to stay out here." His fingers traced gentle circles against your back. “There’s places in town. Places a bit more... private.”

You felt your pulse quicken and your heart race at his suggestion. “Yeah... let’s go.”

Neither of you wasted another second. Hands fumbling, you slipped back into your clothes, laughter and shared glances filling the space between you. Gojou helped you fasten a few buttons that wouldn’t cooperate. Once dressed, the two of you scrambled over rocks and brush, the cool evening air sharp against your skin after your bath—but in the heat of the moment, you hardly noticed.

You made your way back the way you came, with Satoru practically dragging you through town, looking for somewhere that wouldn’t ask too many questions. The sky was now dark, and the nightlife of the port had begun. Finally, he stopped in front of a modest hotel along a quiet street, breathing heavily from his excitement.

“Here,” he said.

You both hurried inside, catching the attention of the older man at the front desk. His eyebrow lifted as he eyed the two of you, taking in your windswept appearance and the clear look of anticipation you both wore. He sighed, passing you a key with a knowing look. “Just… keep it down, eh?”

A mischievous laugh escaped Gojou as he snagged the key and tossed you a wink. “No promises."

The two of you dashed up the narrow staircase, careful not to trip in your haste. When you finally found the room, Gojou fumbled with the key, his hands practically trembling as he tried to unlock the door. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of him—a pirate captain, renowned for his cool composure, completely undone by anticipation.

“Need some help?" you teased, biting back a grin.

“Hey, keep that up and I might reconsider,” he shot back.

After fumbling with the key for a while, he finally managed to get it inside the lock and unlock the door. The room wasn't much, with only a small bed, a few chairs, and a vanity to decorate it, but it would do.

The two of you stumbled inside the room kissing fervently as he closed the door with his foot. You walked backward, leading him to the small bed in the center of the room.

“You're so beautiful to me,” he spoke in a hushed voice.

Your fingers reach up to his collar, gently pulling him down and pressing your lips to his in a passionate kiss. Nothing prevented you from him when your fingers began to work on the already half-undone buttons of his shirt with slow and deliberate movements.

You continued your path to the bed and before long you felt the back of your legs hit the bed and you fell backwards on the plush cushions. The desire was mutual, you could see it in his eyes, and there was an urgent need to be closer on a level beyond words. Satoru moved his hands up and down your sides, caressing the curve of your back and touching the delicate skin of your waist.

He broke the kiss before moving down to your bust, removing the layers of your clothing to reveal your supple breasts. His pupils were fully blown completely covering his cerulean eyes, wanting to submit to his carnal desires. He leaned down kissing you once more, feeling the slopes of your breasts pressed against his chest in your lip-locking exchange.

You sat up before flipping the two of you over so you could be on top, a wave of confidence overtaking you. You slowly kissed down his body before reaching his trousers and undoing the ties of his breeches. Before you knew it, you were crawling off of his lap and laying on your stomach between his legs.

To be completely honest, you had never pleasured yourself before, let alone a man.

Your eyes widened as you pulled off his breeches, releasing his aching member that revealed a size that was proportional to his height.

"Sweetheart—ngh! Don't tease me like that."

You looked up at him with those beautiful doe eyes he had dreamed about, and he thinks he somehow got harder.

"But what if I want to?"

"Ah fuck, please sweetheart? I'm so hard already," he whined.

"Um, I don't really know how to do this… so please forgive me."

You had a friend back in Elysport who was a courtesan for the wealthy, often having sex with married men for money. You never judged her, as she was a friend, but she had taught you a couple of things including how to give a man a hand job, but you had never thought you would need to use it, not in a situation like this with a man like him.

Satoru looked down at you, and awaiting your next move he decided to wrap a hand around his cock.

"Fuck sweetheart," he moaned. "You don't know how many times I dreamed of doing this with you."

Something inside you awakened when he said that—something bold, you decided to replace his hand with your mouth. His deep and guttural moans were enough to encourage you to keep going and take his entire length.

Your mouth is so warm and fuck babe was all you could hear him say. It gave you a confidence boost hearing his constant praise.

You continued until he suddenly tugged your hair, pulling you off his cock. Frowning, you looked at him wondering why he did that when he seemed to be enjoying it.

"Sorry, sweetheart, I was about to cum."

Disappointed you made your way back up his body, kissing him deeply once more. He flipped the two of you over so he was back on top, kissing your neck and feathering soft kisses around the bruised skin before moving down to your breasts. He alternated between both of them, giving them equal amounts of attention by biting and sucking at the flesh and biting at your nipple.

"S-Satoru," you moaned, arching your back to meet his chest, as he descended further and further own your body to where you needed him the most. On his way down, he muttered a "Lift your legs." before removing your soaked pair of panties that he threw somewhere in the room, not caring where they landed. He was quick to dive head-first into your sopping cunt, lapping at your entrance with his tongue, exploring your walls until you were softly moaning his name.

"Fuck you taste so sweet," you could hear his muffled voice from between your legs. He encircled his thumb on your sensitive bud before looking back at your slit, slightly spreading your lips apart to look at your weeping hole. He sat up, grabbing hold of his cock and rubbing it up and down your slit, teasing you to the point of tears.

"S-Satoru, Please!"

"Fuck. Good Girl," he muttered before sliding himself in.

“Ngh—! Y-You—aaah!” You could feel your body being dragged back and forth, your hips being jostled as he continued to sink himself into you.

He was insatiable, he couldn't get enough of the tightness of your cunt. He was moaning loudly from the feeling of your warm, velvet walls milking his cock. He continued to thrust inside you, sitting up with his hands on your hips, keeping you steady as he rammed his cock inside you.

"That's it, gotta stretch you out," he says. “You’re taking me so well,” he groans, burying his face in your neck.

"Satoru," you moan, your walls clenching around his length. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him closer as you feel the ends of his soft hair.

He knows what he's doing, and you can feel that smirk he always has on his lips but surprisingly, he peppers kisses on your neck before he pulls away.

"Can you get on all fours?" he asks, halting his thrusts.

Wanting to please him, you quickly get on all fours and he immediately presses you back down onto the mattress. He lifts your ass as you arch your back even more. He palms the flesh of your ass in his hands before entering you once more.

You gasp, clutching the sheets in your small hands. When Satoru notices this he moves to interlock your fingers, pressing his chest against your back to pound into you.

"Satoru, ah—" you whine.

"I know, I know," he grunts. You can feel your walls tightening around his thick cock "Fuck—so good." you moan.

“Gonna make you cum so hard.”

His balls slapping against your ass feels euphoric, leaving you breathless and wanting to reach your orgasm. A couple of more thrusts against your g-spot bring you the most incredible orgasm.

“Fuck Sweetheart, I’m close.”

It takes a few more thrusts before his movements become erratic and you feel his cock twitch inside you. You feel his sweaty forehead drop against your shoulder as you both struggle to catch your breath. After a few moments, he lifts his head off your shoulder and moves to lie next to you. You flip yourself on your side, eyes focused on the ship's wooden panels as your chest heaves.

You feel Satoru shift next to you, pressing his chest to your back as he wraps his arms around you.

“Thank you, baby. Thank you.”

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[kassiekole22]

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

His Angel

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

Pairing: Josh Washington x Fem!Reader

Description: Desperate to save your boyfriend, Josh, you travel through the mines alone to find him, soon to have a bittersweet reunion...

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Mention Of Death.

Word Count: 735

A/N: The queen of fluff and angst is back, bitches!!! Haha, just kidding. I'm not the queen. 😂 But I am back and plan on delivering some brand new fics to the Until Dawn fanbase to celebrate the remake, starting with this fic here. I hope you enjoy it. 🖤 (Find all my fics at #kassieuntildawnfanfics until I can fix my masterlist, and comment to let me know if you want to be added to the new taglist!)

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

She screams his name, her voice echoing off the rocks walls and dirt pathways, traveling for miles through the underground tomb but falling on the deaf ears of the dead. She runs through the rugged maze that is these old mines, while fear grips her heart tightly. But she isn't as afraid of the possible dangers that lurk in the shadows as she is afraid of losing that one person she searches for.

Jagged stones scrape and cut her flesh as she climbs, painting the environment crimson with her blood. The harsh cold air bites fiercely at her skin, freezing through to her bones enough to cause nothing but a painful numbness to course through her limbs. The agony she feels is more intense than anything she has ever been through, but she must keep going. Her love for him fuels her strength as she pushes through and bears it all.

She won't stop until she finds him... Death wouldn't even get in her way...

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

He sits with his head in his hands, his body trembling from the freezing temperature and his deep fear of isolation. He wishes for redemption—to see her again and make things right. It is the only thing that keeps him holding on anymore. He chews at his dry and cracked lip while familiar voices echo in his brain. Are the memories? Did he create them? Were they even real? He doesn't know. Though he hopes that some day he can get some answers.

But suddenly—amist the sadist voices swirling around his mind—another voice calls out. It's much sweeter than the rest, with a hint of sorrow and a broken sob mixed within it. Though it still sounds warm, just like home. It takes him a moment before he can comprehend the voice, until she is crouching before him and taking his bruised cheeks in her icy, frostbitten hands.

His pale blue eyes lift up, and a gasp of a shaken breath leaves him at the sight of her. Soaking wet hair frames her dirty face, and a few trickles of blood drip from a wide cut on her forehead and a few more from falling from her lips. Then his eyes glance back down to see even more blood covering her clothes. He wants to ask what happened to her, but he can only muster up one word to speak...

"Angel..." He whispers, which filters through a cold breath, parting his chapped lips ever so slightly.

She smiles faintly at this as her glistening eyes light back up with life. It was a word that always made her heart flutter, just as long as it came from him. She wraps her arms around him, embracing him like it will be the last time she ever gets to. And he rests his head on her shoulder while returning the embrace, sighing happily now that he is right back where he belongs. Although she looks a mess, she couldn't look better to him in this moment. His angel—the girl who had saved him time and time again—was finally back in his arms. He couldn't be more grateful for it.

And she is grateful that he didn't hear it��the screams that tore from her blood-stained lips as her stomach and other vital organs got ripped out by the wendigo. He didn't need the guilt weighing him down any further than he had already sunk. She may have died trying to find him, but she reached her goal in the end. She vowed that not even death would stop her. And even though it tried right before she got to him, she continued to push through due to her overwhelming love for him. 

Now she will watch over him while he waits to be saved, maybe even while he tries to heal in the hospital and longer if she's allowed to leave this place. She would hold his hand while he learns of her fate, even if he doesn't know of her presence. She knows that deep down, he would still feel her near. She would watch him find love again and raise a family like they had talked about in the past. Despite the pain of that future no longer being with her, she would watch with a tearful smile, proud of him for all he overcame. She would continue to protect him from beyond for years—she would continue to be his angel.

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

[wileys-russo]

childhood sweethearts (6) II a.russo x reader

series playlist part one part two part three part four part five

thank you all for the feedback for what you want to see! not sure for how long this little story of mine will go for yet but i appreciate all ur support of it sm childhood sweethearts (6) II a.russo x reader

you kissed her.

alessia tensed up at first before pushing you off, eyes wide in shock at what just happened. though that shock only lasted a mere second as just as suddenly she'd pushed you away she was balling your hoodie in her fists, yanking your body back into hers and smashing her lips to your own again.

the kiss was messy and it was rushed, trying desperately to make up for all the time that had passed since the last one. though unlike when you were younger alessia's lips weren't chapped, they were soft and welcoming, her tongue darting into your mouth as her hand tangled itself in your hair and you grabbed onto her waist tightly.

you hated how kissing her still felt the same as it did all those years ago, and that no one you'd kissed since then even came close in giving you these same butterflies. her touch making your lips tingle and your head spin, you were drunk on her and drunk on the way she made you feel, how years later she still knew exactly how to treat you and your body.

but as much as you were drowned in an overwhelmingly familiar euphoria, every nerve in your body on fire and commanded to attention at the feeling of alessia's lips on yours, it was too much.

no one prepares you for your first love. the way your stomach drops when you realise its love, the awkwardly clumsy first touches as you learn your ways around one anothers bodies, jaws aching from how hard you smile at anything and everything your lover does.

but if they can't prepare you for your first love then how is anyone expected to know what your first heartbreak feels like, and the gaping hole it leaves not just in your heart and your head but your life.

gone is your person, the one steady continuance which you know you can go to for comfort, the person you spend all your free time with and when you're not with them you're thinking about them.

but when its that person whose causing all your hurt, who rips out your heart from your chest like its nothing, who do you go to for comfort? for a reprise from the ongoing dull ache in that hole in your chest?

just as much as all the passion and the pleasure came hurtling upwards to the surface as you fiercely kissed alessia, so did the heartbreak, and the betrayal. the end of the carefully curated trust you once held so dear, moving swiftly into when you would welcome the nights spent silently crying yourself to sleep, chest heaving as you muffled your sobs into your pillow.

you'd lived a lie after you'd found out alessia's intent to leave you without an explanation and decided to leave her first. brushing off your families comments about how excited you must be for alessia, ignoring the sharp ongoing twist of the knife in your back anytime they mentioned her name as if everything was fine and normal.

you'd hum and smile, forcing yourself through some half cocked lie about helping her pack, about how happy you were that she was going to get all these new opportunities in america.

going as far as even joking about how you'd need to make sure your passport was in date so you could visit her. the words stung in your throat like you'd swallowed razor blades, mouth burning like someone had shoved a red hot poker on your tongue.

but it was too raw, too painful, too hard to be honest about what happened. it would mean revealing a lot more than just losing her, but rather who she was to you when you lost her, and you just weren't ready for that.

you knew your family would have accepted you, in fact looking back now you really weren't sure what it was which held you back from coming out. maybe it was the fact you needed to come out at all, you still liked boys, but you loved alessia, and so did they.

but you weren't ready. so you forced smiles and nods, taking each uppercut with a grin plastered on your face, wearing a mask that everything was fine and okay.

but overtime you grew tired of wearing that mask and taking those jabs, tired of the lies and the pain they brought with them, why should you even have to lie? to spare alessias good reputation? or to conceal your own truth?

so overtime you'd made more of an effort to change the topic when she'd pop up, you'd make excuses not to be home when you knew the russo's were coming over. you spent more time with your university friends, throwing yourself head first into an overly active social life. tip toeing around the truth that you'd not spoken a proper word to alessia since the day you'd broke up with her.

thats not to say the blonde hadn't tried.

every day during those two weeks before she flew out to the states she'd called, messaged, sent flowers, even showed up to your doorstep.

but you'd ignore her every attempt, throwing yourself into preparing for your own university acceptance while navigating your first heart break and pretending everything was fine and dandy, no easy feat to juggle really.

and after a few weeks of embracing your new friends and your new life, you realised you didn't want her to see that. why should she have any right to see what you were doing without her? see what she lost when she left you?

so you blocked her number, removed her from your social medias, explained to your parents that the two of you just hadn't been talking much anymore with the timezones and with being in such different places in your life.

you'd drifted you told them, asking over and over for your mum to stop pestering you to get coffee with her and carol, explaining that you had new friends, new hobbies, that people grow apart and you were fine with this.

on the other hand with every attempt to reconcile things with you or explain herself further shot down, not that she was even sure what she'd say if you gave her the time, alessia eventually swallowed her pride and accepted the loss, backing off and doing as you'd asked, putting all of her focus into this new chapter, without you.

after all this was what she wanted. this was easier. it wasn't, it wouldn't ever be. but she refused to accept the truth and instead drowned herself in the dangerous denial that she'd not done anything wrong.

you were the problem. you'd not been supportive. you'd not have been able to do distance for four years. you had broken up with her and it was the right thing for both of you.

did alessia believe a word of that? never. but without you there to ground her all she could do was to continue to affirm these things over and over, desperate to convince herself that you were the vilian in her story.

she'd told her family not to mention UNC to you from the moment she'd signed that contract, claiming she was keeping it as a secret to everyone and planned to tell all of her friends at the same time not wanting anyone feeling left out.

they'd been surprised at this of course, and alessia lied through her teeth saying she'd mentioned thinking about maybe going overseas for football and you were supportive, but that she hadn't confirmed anything yet and this was an entirely new situation for her to come to terms with and she needed time to do so, and her family respected that.

of course they weren't to know that alessia didn't just love you, she was in love with you. they didn't know that when she left she'd have been leaving her girlfriend behind, not her best friend. they were none the wiser of what alessia was giving up, of how much her heart ached at the thought of you, the tears that pricked at the back of her eyes at any mention of your name.

if anything that was yet another regret she held, not coming clean to her family about the fact you weren't just her best friend, at the time you were her everything and so much more.

alessia knew you meant as much to her family as you did to her, you were their second daughter and they adored you. they wouldn't have cared that the two of you were more than just best friends, alessia had known that from the moment she first kissed you and realised she loved you the way she was supposed to love boys.

and maybe if they had known the truth about the two of you they might have been able to talk some sense into her about what she did, what she lost, maybe stopped her from making such a life altering mistake.

because you weren't the villian in her story, you were the victim. and it had taken a lot of years of self work and reflection for alessia to completely accept that. accept that she was the problem, it was her mistake, her who had broken your heart and caused you an unthinkable amount of hurt and pain.

and alessia wasn't sure this was something she could ever forgive herself for.

"alessia." you pushed her off you suddenly, your lips separating with a gentle smack. you stepped away when she tried to reach out for you again, face flushed bright red and lips slightly swollen.

"we can't. that was a huge mistake." you forced out, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to quieten your mind enough to remember where you were, why this was wrong and for once embrace the pain it was making you feel.

"but-" "no lessi." her heart stopped at the nickname, something she'd not heard in years and her knees almost buckled and hit the floor at the implosion of emotions that came with it.

you however regretted it the moment the slip up left your tongue, quick to correct yourself as not to give her any false hope.

"alessia. that was a mistake, i really can't do this. you need to leave now, please!" you turned away from her, back hunched over as your hands gripped the back of the sofa so hard your knuckles turned white.

"you kissed me." alessia reminded, fists balled by her sides as you felt her gaze burn the back of your neck. "i know. which is exactly why you need to leave, i can't do this with you again." you whispered back, holding back the tears which threatened to spill over as that every familiar ache in your chest started again, something you'd not felt in years.

"but why? i know i royally fucked everything up. i hurt you, i left you and i broke you, and there isn't a day that i don't regret that more than anything." alessia started and you tensed as you felt her stand closer, hand gently ghosting your back before thinking better of it as her touch disapeared.

"i'm not that same young selfish reckless teenager anymore. maybe you were right and we don't know each other in some ways, so just let me show you that i've changed. please! i've just gotten you back i can't lose you again." alessia all but begged as the room began to spin and your eyes slammed shut, a thick silence falling between the two of you momentarily, and then something in you clicked.

"you haven't gotten me back though alessia." you spun around so quickly it caught the blonde striker off guard as she stumbled over her feet trying to step back.

"you will never understand just how you made me feel. you made me feel about two centimeters tall, like i wasn't worth anything, wasn't worth telling of your grand new journey, after years of loving you and being in love with you that i wasn't even worth a goodbye!" you spat, hurt replaced by anger as years of bottled emotions suddenly exploded.

alessia remained silent, knowing she deserved to take all of this and more as her feet stayed rooted in place and you advanced on her.

"and now you want to tell me about change? regret? your hurt? losing me? getting me back?" you laughed now, though your tone was anything but humorous as you shoved at her chest, the taller girl barely moving as you did.

"fuck you! you will never know just how much it hurt alessia. because you didn't think about me, you didn't care about me and you left me!" you yelled, shoving her again as her eyes welled with tears but she refused to break your eyeline.

"and because you left me you weren't there when i needed you. you weren't there for my first day of university, you weren't there for my graduation, you weren't there when my fucking dad died, when he left me too!" you were screaming now, your voice hoarse and cracked but now the dam had spilled over there was no way of stopping it from overflowing.

"and i hate that you were the only person i wanted to tell, the only person i wanted to hold me and tell me it was going to be okay. it had been nearly two years and i still wasn't over you, i still wanted you to be there even as my best friend if nothing more, but you weren't!" your voice broke, tears gushing down your face as alessia bit down on her bottom lip which trembled, tears spilling over in her ocean blue eyes.

"my siblings had partners to turn to, they had their own support systems. i had my friends but they weren't you, no one has ever been you and i hate you for that. because you aren't my person, if you were you'd have never done what you did." you poked her sharply, sniffling and wiping your nose with your sleeve, hand trembling as you did so.

"when he died my mum pushed everyone away. i needed her to tell me it was going to be okay, i needed her tell me we were going to be okay without him and she didn't, she couldn't. so i had to be the parent and i picked up the pieces, i organised the funeral, i watched her crumble and break and become a shell of the woman she once was. and i did it alone, at twenty!" you yelled, fists raising to hit the girl as she grabbed your hands, holding them tightly in her own.

and at that you crumbled, dropped to the ground and curled into a ball, the grief of not one but two losses now hitting you in waves, barely able to keep your head above water as you drowned in your own emotions.

without a second thought alessia was sat by your side, pulling you in between her legs as she wrapped herself tightly around you, her front pressed to your back as you fought her, elbowing and yelling and swearing for her to get off but she refused.

and when you were unable to fight her anymore, you gave in. your sobs echoed around the apartment as the blonde buried her face in your hair, her lips whispering apologies over and over as your entire body wracked and convulsed with grief, finally allowing yourself to actually feel everything for the first time in a long time.

you weren't sure how long you sat there for, but with time you ran out of tears to cry and your head started to come back down to ground level, your breaths shallow but starting to even out as your eyes throbbed, red and puffy.

it was then you remembered who it was that was currently holding you, who it was that was whispering over and over how sorry she was, how strong you were. so you pushed her off, the blonde now allowing you to as she shuffled back a little, wanting to give you space.

"sorry." was all you managed to get out, rubbing your eyes and taking a deep shaky breath, your chin resting on your knees which were tucked to your chest. alessia watched you carefully, fingers twitching to reach out and comfort you again.

"it's not your fault he died, and its not your fault that i needed to step up and be there for my mum. but i did need you alessia, even as my best friend who i'd known since we were little. my best friend who adored my dad and knew what a loss it was that he wasn't there anymore. and because of what happened between us, you weren't there." you forced out, avoiding her gaze as you sighed, your head starting to pound and a dull ache settling behind your eyes.

"i wanted to be." alessia finally spoke up, head lifting and eyes roaming your deflated form. "my mum called to tell me when she found out, and the first thing i did was try to call you. but you changed your number and i took that as a sign you didn't want me having your new one." alessia admitted, your gaze remaining trained to the floor.

"i wanted to fly home for the funeral, to be there for you. but it had been two years and i didn't want to make it worse, i didn't even know what i would have said. my mum told me it was only going to be a small ceremony and only she and my dad were going, but i made her promise me that she would look after you in my absence." alessia continued, playing with her fingers as her hands sat dormant in her lap.

"she tried to check in. but my mum, she was my priority that day, i didn't focus on anyone else, couldn't do anything else. i gave my speech and hers, and i went home and cooked her dinner, which she refused to eat. my brother took over so i went to my room,and i didn't leave it for three days." you confessed, refusing to look at her knowing exactly the pity which would shine in her eyes.

"it was a really shit year. the university gave me extensions on everything and i took a leave of compassion for a few months, my friends did their best to help me. but i spent every day with mum trying anything to bring her back. i grieved silently and by myself, everyone else had their own emotions to be responsible for i didn't need to burden them with mine." your voice was barely above a whisper now, fiddling with your necklace as you spoke.

"your mum tried to help, all of mums friends did but she pushed them away too, isolated herself away from the world, away from us. but then i remember one morning i woke up to the smell of something burning and thought she was trying to set the house alight-" a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips.

"-thought she might have been burning dads stuff, she slept in the spare room and we weren't allowed in her room, didn't touch his things for months. but i raced down and she's there in the kitchen, trying to make eggs but she forgot about them and they burnt to the pan." you let out a small chuckle now, sighing quietly.

"but it was the first morning she'd gotten out of bed by herself. and when she saw me she hugged me, told me good morning like there wasn't a small fire in the corner. but it was the first time she seemed even a little bit alive again, she'd even gone out the front and grabbed the paper." you wiped away a stray tear with the corner of your sleeve.

"then slowly things started to shift, she went to get groceries, started to at least sleep in her room again. it took time but she reached out again for help, started to sift through his things, yelled at me for staying home instead of going to class. i started to do night classes to try and catch up, i wanted to graduate with my friends and i knew that he'd not want me to stop because of him not being there to tell me to keep going." you paused, the image of him briefly flickering through your mind as you gently touched your hip where his name was hidden, tattooed only for your eyes to see.

"i was at your graduation." your head snapped up at that, a frown forming as your eyebrows creased and alessia's face paled, unsure if she should have confessed. "what?" you managed to force out.

"i'd come home by then. i still spoke to a few of the girls from secondary school, not as much but we caught up once i moved back home. i asked one day if they wanted to get lunch and they said they were going to your graduation-" the back of alessias neck prickled as she spoke.

"-i hadn't spoke with anyone about you for a long time. they didn't invite me with them, i hadn't ever spoke to them about it but i assumed you'd told them we weren't...well friends." alessia winced, unsure how to really word things in the right way.

"but i looked it up, saw it was an open invite. so i went and i sat right up the back, i saw your family all there but i didn't dare to say hi. i didn't want to ruin your day but i wanted to be there, and i was so proud watching you walk across that stage and get your degree." your eyes met for a fleeting moment as a soft smile graced the older girls face.

you really wished she hadn't told you that, feeling yet another twist of the knife in your back as a weirdly familiar feeling settled in your stomach at her confession, but it wasn't a feeling you were going to give the luxury of developing any further, you couldn't.

"whatever trust i had in you is dead alessia, i'm really sorry i kissed you but i can't do this again. i can't sit here and be hugged and comforted by you, i can't kiss you like nothing happened and reminisce on old memories, i can't risk giving you a chance to hurt me again, to leave me again." you admitted quietly, looking away from her as the striker remained silent, thinking over her words carefully before she responded.

"i'd like you to leave now please alessia, please." you whispered, head hung low, shoulders sagging as you heard her start to move beside you. your eyes widened as you felt her hand gently touch your cheek, the blonde squatted down beside you.

"alessia-" you started softly, moving away her hand. "i'll leave, but i'm not leaving again. i live here now, ten minutes down the road." alessia started, standing up as you remained seated on the floor.

"i have caused you an inexcusable amount of pain and hurt and i know that, thats mine to bare forever and you're right i will never understand how you felt, and how you feel." she continued, hovering a few feet away as you looked into the kitchen.

"but i'm not going anywhere. please take some time, as much as you need, i promise i won't reach out or ambush you or anything. take some time and think, because i'd really like the opportunity to be in your life again. i don't deserve it and i'm selfish for even asking-" she swallowed the lump in her throat, hand lingering on the handle of your front door.

"-but ultimately if you don't want anything to do with me, i'll respect that and i will leave you be. but i live here now, my life is here now and so is yours and if you give me the chance to be in it i promise you that i will spend every single day making it up to you and showing you just how much you mean to me." alessia's voice softened, and she turned the handle as you spared her a glance, a small nod all she needed as she sent you a sad smile.

and with that, she was gone.

~

sure to her word alessia left you be. a week passed without anything further, your mum even laying off about everything as your sister announced she was pregnant. you were happy for her of course always wanting to be an aunty, but overall you were grateful she had given your mum something else to focus on than pestering you about the fake date you 'went' on.

you tried to keep busy. that first week you threw yourself head first into work, staying back later and starting earlier, going out for dinner and drinks with your colleagues again, feeling incredibly welcomed into the much smaller community of teachers than you had in australia.

you'd made friends with some of your colleagues there but you'd also made the mistake of trying to date one of them. you'd gone out a few times and everything seemed okay, nothing was labelled but you were enjoying your time together and getting to know one another.

but then after a particularly rambunctious staff christmas party and one or five too many tequila shots you drunkenly decided to sleep with a different colleague and well, it didn't end well for you.

you swiftly learned why dating your co-workers was now a no go, painstakingly awkward staff meetings and social events where you knew others were whispering about you tainted your experience of what was supposed to be your dream job and in a beautiful new country.

determined to prove them wrong you'd tried to suck up to the principal and the head of department, accepting extra shifts, after school bus duties, playground duties, each offer adding more and more onto your growing workload.

with this being your first real job out of university besides your placements, and younger than most of your colleagues you were naieve to think you could handle it all amongst being so far away from home.

you burnt yourself out, fast. so when the bell rang to end your final school term of your second year teaching abroad, you'd already handed in your resignation and ended your lease early, booking a one way ticket home.

your mum of course had been warning you from the get go about looking after yourself, and you'd brushed her off time and time again that you were fine, that you could handle it, that you were loving it.

and yet the reality was far from that.

when you'd finally come clean, unable to keep your head above water anymore feeling as though you were failing yourself and your students. you'd called your mum and come clean, and she hadn't tried to talk you out of staying or coming home, knowing you were an adult and this needed to be your decision.

so when you'd made that decision she was as supportive as you needed her to be, going to open houses and inspections, face timing you and sending videos, sending in your applications until finally one was accepted.

your mum had of course assured you were more than welcome to move back in with her but for the sake of your own independence having become quite accustomed to living by yourself, you'd as gently as you could shut that down quite quickly.

but back to present day and that second week without any contact from alessia, she lived rent free in your head.

you once again tried to busy yourself, desperate to keep the tall blonde striker out of sight and out of mind only the more you tried to push any thought of her away the more she popped up.

true to her word alessia had steered clear, not showing up to help out leah that second friday much to both your relief and maybe disappointment? you weren't sure why your face fell a little seeing a different one of leahs team mates stepping in, your head was an absolute mess.

so that night you finally let your thoughts wander rogue.

curled up on your lounge with a mug of tea, your walls slipping for a moment as you indulged yourself in remembering the good times the two of you had. you recalled certain things with a smile on your face, hours passing as you lay there thinking it over and over.

you jumped as your phone began to vibrate by your head and your stomach lurched seeing her name on the screen. realizing the time, worry seeped into you that she might be drunk again, calling you as an afterthought.

so you let the call screen out, releasing a breath you didn't realise you were holding in when she didn't call again. but moments later, your phone pinged with a message.

iMessage from alessia russo - 10:04pm. hi. i'm so incredibly sorry to call you so late i probably should have just sent a message, and i am absolutely still giving you space. i'm not sure if you've spoken to your mum but mine called me earlier about another family dinner at your mums house this time? next week i think. my mum really misses you and i think she'd love to see you if that was something you were open to? i can very easily make other plans to not be there so you aren't uncomfortable.

iMessage from alessia russo - 10:05pm. you of course don't have to go, and you don't have to reply to this either. i'm not trying to push you into anything either, but you do know what my mums like and she really does want to see you

iMessage from alessia russo - 10:05pm. you always were her favourite daughter

iMessage from alessia russo - 10:06pm. sorry that was probably a bit forward, and weird.

iMessage from alessia russo - 10:07pm. it's alessia by the way

you felt a smile tug at your lips as your eyes scanned the incoming messages, imagining the way her cheeks would have flushed in embarrassment the more she rambled on had the messages been in person.

alessia on the other hand was wincing as she sent you yet another message despite her promise she would leave you be.

she watched as the text bubbles appeared, and left, and appeared again, and then left. "you alright less?" lotte chuckled, sat on the ground trying to build a new bookshelf, having come over to spend the evening with her long time friend, considering her more a sister.

“why am i such an idiot.” alessia sighed, flopping backwards into the sofa and covering her face with her hands. “is this about her again?” lotte asked gently, aware that this was quite the sensitive topic with the striker especially as of late.

before she could reply alessia felt her phone vibrate on her stomach, turning it face up to look her eyes widened and she quickly threw it to the other side of the lounge as if it was red hot and had burnt her.

“okay what was that about?” lotte asked with a concerned gaze. “she’s calling me!” alessia panicked, lotte rolling her eyes. “…so answer it.”

with a hasty nod alessia practically dove onto her phone, clicking accept right on the last ring and scrambling to her feet, hurrying off to her bedroom for a touch more privacy.

“hello?” she answered, composing herself for a moment.

“hi.”

“hello.”

“you already said that.”

“hi?”

“i already said that.” alessia settled somewhat hearing the lighter tone of voice which you were using today.

“so i got your messages.” you trailed off, pausing for a moment to think what you wanted to say, regret washing over you that you hadn’t just messaged her back.

“sorry there’s so many. i promise i really did mean to-“

“-give me space. and you have, I know that alessia it’s okay, I’m not upset with you for messaging.” you assured her calmly, the blonde nodding at your words which of course you weren’t able to see.

“so, the dinner then.” alessia spoke, certain that’s what you’d been returning her call to talk about, the striker already having confirmed with lotte that the two of them would easily be able to spend the evening together instead so you’d be able to go to the dinner and see her family without seeing her.

though to alessia that felt about as easy as swallowing a watermelon whole.

“yeah look i really appreciate you messaging to clarify things. my mum hasn’t mentioned any dinner but i’m seeing her tomorrow so I’ve no doubt it’ll come up then.” you started, picking nervously at your nail beds as you readied yourself for your next words.

“-I was calling to ask if you wanted to grab a coffee or something this week. i’ve had my time to think and i actually do have some things i’d like to talk with you about, but in person.” you asked, chewing the inside of your cheek somewhat nervously as you awaited her answer.

“oh! um yeah, yeah that sounds good. i’d like that.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

part seven

[thekidsralright]

a love worth fighting for.

pairing: abby anderson x f!reader

synopsis: anderson is the name on everybody's lips when it comes to discussing the newest up-and-coming boxers of the season. with the help of her coach and you by her side, she's going for the world title. but what will she have to sacrifice to get there?

an: so, it's finally here. this is a big one for me folks - i'd go as far as to say the biggest fic i've ever worked on. ever. i'd love for this to be multi chapter, but that depends on the reception part 1 receives. if you like it, please reblog and let me know your thoughts. i'm proud of this, so be kind with your comments x

warnings: 18+ mdni. violence, swearing, references to smut (despite this chap not having any super explicit content, if i decide to continue this fic there will defo be heavy smut in the next upload - so don't even bother reading the first part if you're not of age).

The MC’s voice reverberates throughout the stadium, drowning out the cacophony of cheers, boos, and overarching buzz from the crowd. You could never predict who they would back until the night, usually finding that boxing fans are easily swayed depending on who gets the first punch in. You were hoping all support would be directed at her tonight, god she needed it. Trying to maintain a positive attitude is hard when your girlfriend's opponent is making his way into the ring, his impressive height and wide, muscular shoulders towering leagues above his teams; arms raised, working the crowd and hyping them up in anticipation for the fight to come. They’re already eating out of his hands, the bastards.

“Ladieeees and Gentlemaaan! Welcome to the main event. In the blue corner, weighing in at 188 pounds, undefeated in 48 fights; he needs no introduction folks - it’s the man, the beast, Zach ‘Thunderstorm’ Norriiiiiis!”

The crowd roars in excitement, slapping their hands together and pumping their fists in the air. Zach is one of the nation's favourites, as any undefeated boxer would be. The nickname ‘Thunderstorm’ came from the sound his opponent’s bodies would make when they hit the canvas, like the crack of lightning. You look ahead with a neutral expression, keeping your eyes focused on the empty archway ahead of you - trying not to zero in on just how big his arms were. How they could crush someone's airways, smash apart their ribs, do irreplaceable damage.

You inherently hated what your girl did as a profession, hated the way she put herself in harm's way time after time after time. But there was also a part of you that admired her for it, for the unbreakable determination that radiated from her - if she got beaten down, she would get right back up and come at you even harder. It’s what kept forcing you to show up. That, and also the tiny factor of being absolutely in love with the woman. But when she got hurt, which seemed to be every other day lately, you really wanted to grab a hold of her fucking head and shake the-

“Aaaaand coming into the red corner, Thunderstorm’s opponent, weighing in at 175 pounds. She hails from Salt Lake City, and is rising through the ranks quickly. With 30 wins, 24 of them coming by way of knockout, give it up for the new kid on the block -  it’s Abbyyyyyy Andersooooon!”

And here she comes, bowling out of that archway with Coach right on her tails; the hood of her red robe covering her plaited hair, matching red gloves already fastened and ready. Even from where you were waiting by the stalls, you could see the all-too-familiar expression that befalls her face before every fight. Eyes so dark they look black, focused, unwavering; brimming with unshed aggression that are preparing for the violence that is about to ensue. 

Frightening. Arousing. Another reason you’re still with her.

Abby ducks under the ropes of the ring, bouncing on her feet as she grounds herself on the canvas before moving over to her corner where Coach is now waiting. As you rush up to them, Coach gives you the look he always does before a fight - the type that screams, ‘you shouldn’t be here, girl.’ He thinks you’re a distraction, an irritating fly he’d rather swat away so he can make sure his prized money maker has the best chance at winning. You weren’t giving in that easily. Coach could go to hell for all you cared; you knew his real motivations when it came to all of this. Abby may regard him like a father, but you saw him for what he really was. A leech.

Coach shouts up into Abby’s ear, her head bent in concentration - “He’s a fucking showman. That, and a bit of muscle. You know you got the upper hand tactically; he has no fucking clue what’s about to hit him. Just stay focused Anderson, and this bout is yours.”

Abby nods resolutely, eyes trained on the canvas as she rolls her shoulders back and cracks her neck. Coach’s hands come up to grip the ropes between them.

“You gotta win this champ, you can win this. Just don’t. get. distracted.”

Both Coach’s and Abby’s eyes turn to you at the same time as you offer up a reassuring smile to your girlfriend, also now clutching at the ropes that separate you.

“You got this babe.”

She nods quickly and gives a tight smile, but you can tell from the tense line of her shoulders that she’s stressing out. Yes she’s fought before, but it was never on this big of a scale. Never against opponents like him. It was what Coach insisted was the next step –

“You wanna face off a load of wimps Anderson? Or do you wanna make it to champion status?... Yeah? Of course you fucking do. Then you gotta get in front of the crowds and beat the shit out of the favourites.” 

Easy for him to say, he’s not the one going up against an undefeated fighter. But you had faith in your girl. That was never going to change. You move closer to the ring as she crouches down into the corner, Coach double checking he has all the supplies that she would need between rounds. You take her face in your hands through the division of the ropes and pull her in for a quick kiss - before she can move away, you hold her there and take her chin in your grip, eyes lingering on hers.

“Win this…like I know you can, and then come home and fuck me like a champion.”

You don’t give her time to respond as you let her face go and back away, moving into the crowd as you cheer her name. That posture of stress has eased slightly, and a smug smile is planted on her face instead. Coach, of course, comes and wipes that smirk away as he puts her mouthguard in, holding her head still as he most likely shouts some type of bull at her once again. But of course, she’s listening to him like it’s gospel. Amped up and ready to fight, Abby raises herself to full height, bouncing on her feet and swinging her arms to the side. The crowd aren’t sure what to make of her, most of them never even hearing her name before. But there is the occasional cheer for “Anderson!” amongst the rally of support for Norris. After all, people do love an underdog.

The announcer calls Abby and Norris into the middle of the ring, a hand on both of their chests as he explains, “Now I want a nice, clean game. Nothing below the belt. Are we clear?”

Both nod, pressing against the MC’s outstretched hands in an act of intimidation towards the other. Abby’s face is like stone, never breaking eye contact and standing strong. Norris on the other hand, his smirk was the show of pure arrogance. She better fuck this dickhead up. Both back away from each other, getting into a southpaw stance as the MC’s voice rings out for the last time. 

“Are we readyyyyy…FIGHT!”

You forget about everything else when that bell rings; the crowd getting louder, Coach’s bellows erupting from her corner, the look on Norris’ face as he circles his prey. The toll of that bell ringing in your ears sounds like a death sentence, also signalling the start of round 1. 

____________

By round 4, the feeling of uneasiness settles in your stomach and your eyes continue to follow her quick-shifting form, matching her movements so that when she ducked or flinched back, so did you. Both fighters have been pretty level with one another so far, both sending out jabs and uppercuts - only for them to be warded off before any real damage could be inflicted. It’s not enough to win though, she needs a clear hit.

Abby goes in for a right hook, ever so slightly clipping Norris’ chin and the crowd ripples in response, hoping for the real fight to begin soon. Norris responds with a clinch to stop her from advancing too quickly, wrapping his arms around and over her. You hated seeing him touch her like that, your own fists clenching at your sides in response.

The bell tolls again signalling the end of the round, both fighters making their way to their respective posts - but not before you see Norris saying something in Abby’s ear. She doesn’t move for a second, eyes unwavering on Norris as he turns his back. For a second you think she might go for him, but she’s worked too hard to let her temper win now. With a shake of her head, she goes over to Coach and plunks down on the ground - tearing off her gloves with her teeth and ripping out her mouthpiece. Her focus is still sharply on Norris across the ring, most likely getting strategy tips and a pep talk in her ear from Coach, reminding her to channel all that anger back into the task at hand. 

You don’t move from your seat in the crowd, wanting to give her the space to fully zone in. She knows you’re here for her and only her, and you provided enough motivation at the beginning of the night to last the duration. You'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy the view at the moment either, and that those feelings of uneasiness were also coupled with an overwhelming tide of arousal.

The way sweat is dripping down her face and neck, trickling down her chest and onto her arms. How she runs her hands over the top of her head, dousing it in water and brushing through the roots with her fingers to cool off. Yeah… you really hoped she did win tonight, not just because she deserves it from how hard she’s been training, but selfishly a part of you really wants to get fucked good tonight. Especially after the show she’s putting on for you right now. And you know for a fact it’s only for you.

Abby’s let you know multiple times how much she loves you watching her fight, seeing her crush opponents to a pulp and looking absolutely glorious doing so. It’s upsetting that tonight, she isn’t doing so well. But this is what she and Coach wanted, to start moving up the leagues and facing off against better fighters - solidifying her name among the real competition. You try to stop the negative thoughts from creeping in, try to stay positive for your girl.

The rounds keep stacking up, neither Abby or Norris winning the upper hand for long. It’s evident that both fighters are getting aggravated by round 9, their punches falling on the side of reckless, their expressions displeased and downright pissed. You shout as loud as you can, “Come on baby, you can do this!” in the hopes that Abby can hear you over everyone else. And she must have done, as her head slightly turns in your direction on instinct, and Norris’ gloved fist takes the opportunity to make contact with the side of her face in response.

The crowd screams with excitement, satisfied with the fact that something is finally happening. But all you see is red as the blood sprays from Abby’s mouth on impact, her body crashing into the ropes that barely keep her form upright. You take a step forward as does Coach, you both now waiting for the bell to ring so you can meet her at the post. 12 seconds.

Come on, just stay out of his way for a bit longer…avoid the fucker for 12 seconds!

Abby’s so stunned from that first punch that as she tries to right herself on the canvas and pick up her stance, Norris is already waiting with another blow to the face - this time an uppercut that sends her head flying back and her legs out from under her.

No no no no, NO!

5 seconds.

You’re screaming for her to get up as the crowd counts how long she’s been down. 

1…2…3-

“Stand up! Abby stand the FUCK UP!”

A wave of an arm and a twitch of a leg has you screaming in relief, as Abby slowly gets back on her feet before a KO can be declared, just as the bell signals the end of the round.

Abby all but bolts for her corner, leaning her body and head back against the post - her eyes shut from exhaustion and pain. Coach partially moves out of the way for the cutman, who is trying to clean the blood from her face as best they can - the enswell pressing against the areas where Norris’ punches made impact.

You can see she’s starting to give up, that undeniable fire in her eyes has dulled to a mere glow. You can’t stand it. You try to move your head further into her corner to say “Baby, you can do this, you just gotta-”

Before you can finish, Coach has climbed through the ropes so he’s kneeling directly in front of Abby’s hunched figure, grabbing the back of her head so their foreheads are nearly touching.

“You listen to me Anderson. You’re jumping about this ring like a fuckin’ monkey on steroids. Calm the fuck down, focus in on the technique we’ve been working on for months and stop…getting…distracted.”

At this, both heads turn in your direction. Abby’s expression shows you she isn’t angry about being distracted from your support; she knew you were coming from a good place. Coach on the other hand is looking at you like you went up there and hit her yourself. He never liked when you were around, always insisting that partners were just unwanted emotional baggage that could wait until after the last punch was thrown. But Abby refuses to get in the ring if you aren’t watching from the sidelines.

“Not going out there without my girl, Coach - she’s my lucky charm.”

“Well your lucky charm has been making you late to training. Gotta get your head back to the task at hand. You can play housewives later.”

But tonight isn’t the night to bicker with Coach about things that won’t change. You will both always be here for Abby, and right now she needs you. You hold her gaze, giving a smile and a wink - “Are you seriously giving up this easy? You and me both know you’ve got it in you to bring this piece of shit down. Come on Abs…fucking finish it.”

Coach is clapping her shoulders in agreement, lifting Abby up so she can shake out the stiffness and get ready for the next round. What you hope to be the last round. You take your position back up in the crowd, and get ready to cheer for your, and her, life. The bell rings out. 

Round 10.

____________

She makes every punch count, unleashing herself at Norris like a fucking beast. He doesn't know how to respond to it at first, taken aback at how quickly Abby has switched up her fighting style. The renewed vigour in her movements only enrages Norris even further, the confidence that this fight was his now starting to crack under the weight of Abby’s rage.

He still manages to land some blows, but it’s almost as if she’s stopped feeling them - blinded by the sheer animalistic instinct to push through and keep punching. A flurry of blows to Norris’ face causes him to hunch down and over for relief, but what he doesn't realise is that he’s just given her the perfect head shot from above.

The blow comes fast, and hard. You wince as her gloved fist makes impact with the back of his bent head, forcing his body further beneath her.

Norris goes down, face first into the canvas at Abby’s feet. 

Knockout.

The volume of the crowd increases, if that’s even possible, counting along with the MC to ten to see if Norris has it in him to keep going. You’ve never been more relieved when he doesn't move a muscle.

8…9…10! KNOCKOUT!

You’re screaming, jumping with your arms in the air like a crazy person. She won. Abby won. The MC brings her to the centre of the ring, raising her arm with his to signal her victory. She’s shouting too, showing her black mouthguard mixed with the sight of fresh blood, unable to stand still as she takes a victor’s lap, celebrating her win.

Coach rushes up, gripping her in a bear tackle whilst you look on from the sidelines - still trying to come to terms with what you’ve just witnessed. She won. Against ‘Thunderstorm.’ This is what she’s been working towards for months, hoping for the chance to make her name known among the big leagues. Your girlfriend just put herself on the map, and it wasn’t about to go unnoticed…

____________

It takes a while for you all to make your way out of the stadium, fans constantly asking for autographs and pictures with the underdog-turned-champion of the night. It was nice to see. Finally, Abby was getting the recognition she deserves. Coach was eating that shit up, as expected, spreading the word to anyone that listened that we had a new heavyweight world champion in the making. Abby would get that glint in her eye at every mention of the ultimate title: world champion.

Her head might as well be made of glass, because you can see exactly what’s happening up in that brain of hers as she processes the weight of what’s happened tonight. She can see the prize that has never been in reach now that little bit closer. And she wants it. Bad. You go to remind her to take it one step at a time, but you know it would be received the wrong way.

A number of journalists and presenters were waiting by the entrance of the stadium as you emerged into the cold night. They rush you as soon as they spot Abby. You weren’t expecting so many people to come at you with cameras and microphones, reaching around, past, through you to get to her. A flurry of voices swarm the now enclosed space.

“Anderson, how do you feel after tonight’s knockout performance?”

“Who’s next on your kill list?”

“Are you staking your claim on the heavyweight belt?”

“How will you be celebrating tonight, Abby?”

Overwhelmed, you take a step back so Abby is ahead of you - Coach now placing his arm around her shoulders to also lean into the microphones held up against Abby’s mouth. 

“The next fight is coming sooner than you think. Anderson is ready to take on any of these amateurs and claim the title that is rightfully hers.”

The interviewers all look to Abby expectantly, hoping she seconds the statements made. Of course she does. It’s Abby.

“I’m ready for the next fight. This is what I’ve been training for and I'm not going to slow down now. Put any fighter in front of me and I’ll deal a knockout to whoever wants one.”

You hear this and let out a long breath. This was the flaw that irked you most about Abby. She never knows when to take a break - to step back and appreciate how much she’s already achieved. Once she gets something, it’s on to the next. You just worry that she’s going to burn herself out.

As expected, her comment only invited them to ask more, now wanting to hear the name of the next person she wants to challenge and when that would be. Coach begins to move you all forward again, giving that cheshire smile he’s perfected and a sly “you’ll have to wait and see” - most likely aiming to leave some suspense in the air so more articles are printed tomorrow. 

All three of you go to move through the reporters, making your way to a black SUV waiting just ahead. From where you took a step back, the crowd sees an opening and begins to slot themselves in between you and Abby, hot on her heels with more burning questions. When she turns her head to answer them, that signature smirk on her face is quickly replaced with alarm, then stone cold anger.

One reporter is physically elbowing you out of the way to get a better angle for his picture, the flash blinding you for a second, causing your head to snap the opposite direction. 

You hear her voice ring out over everyone.

“Get your hands off my girlfriend and back away. Now.”

She pushes through until she’s in front of elbow-camera guy, who is currently regretting his choices now Abby is towering over him, his mouth slightly open with a mixture of awe and fear.

“Do you think it’s ok to treat a woman like that? Do you think you can push my woman out of the way and expect me to pose for a photo?”

He’s frozen to the spot, and Abby only raises her eyebrows in response. Taking your hand and pulling you to her side, she turns you both around after muttering “watch yourself” to the wimp you leave behind. 

“Sorry baby” she whispers in your ear, thumb brushing down the side of your arm. Placing a hand on the small of your back, she leads you both through to the SUV and watches you get into the car before joining you. The voices now muffled; you finally release a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding in since the start of the night. She was fine. She’s safe. Everything’s ok again.

Now you finally have a chance to talk just the two of you - well, you and Abby and Coach - you want to make sure she isn’t serious about jumping straight into another fight. But when she turns to you, her eyes alight with pure happiness that you haven't seen in a long time, you decide to have that talk in the morning.

You have a champion to take home…

____________

The minute you get through the front door of your apartment, you’re leading her to the bathroom to get cleaned up. She’s got that dazed look in her eyes of someone in a dream. Only this dream is real, and you couldn't be happier for her. But God, does she look rough. Hot, always, but rough.

“Did you see how fast he went down when I threw that last punch, bubs? I felt like my chest was going to explode during those 10 seconds, it felt like a lifetime to wait. I need to start thinking about my next move with Coach and strategizing ‘cos I could never use exactly the same technique, these fighters are way smarter than any of those fuckin’ rookies I’ve fought before and-”

“Woah, Abs slow down.” You give a slight chuckle as she realises her rambling, holding her hands up in defeat - allowing you to lightly push at her shoulders so she can sit on the toilet. You grab the first aid bag in the cabinet, packed with the essentials that have come in handy many times through the years. The cutman at every fight has of course offered to clean Abby up, but you always took it upon yourself to take care of her wounds at the end of the night. You both liked it that way. You were gentler, caring.

Getting down on your knees in front of her, you get to work wiping the dried blood from her face, placing cold packs and plasters over her swollen cheek and jaw. She sits there in silence, patiently watching you do it all - her hands trailing over your face, neck, arms.

“ ‘m sorry for not noticing you got left behind…don’t want you to think I forgot about you or anything. I just get carried away with it all, ya know?” she mutters, cutting through the silence - cupping the side of your face with her hand as her fingers begin to brush through your hair. You close your eyes as you revel in the feel of it, nuzzling into her palm to give it a kiss.

“It wasn’t your fault, bubs. Besides, you came to my rescue in the end…like always” - you give another kiss to her open palm, reaching up to take her hand in both of yours so you can kiss her sore knuckles.

“Besides, it was kinda worth getting pushed just so I could see you make that guy absolutely shit himself.” You both burst out laughing, leaning in close to one another as if you were best friends sharing a secret. This was the Abby that only you saw. The one who didn’t have the weight of the world on her shoulders, who could just be and not think about the next move.

You whisper, “I’m so proud of you,” and she almost begins glowing with pleasure from your praise.

Abby pulls you in by your face, hands back to cupping either side, eyes turning mischievous. 

“I nearly forgot…I have one more thing I need to do tonight.”

You grin up at her, “oh yeah? And what’s that?”

She leans in further, her mouth stopping to hover just next to your ear, whispering “I need to fuck you like a champion.”

Her hand comes down to cup you through your jeans, squeezing ever so slightly. You’d be lying if you said you haven’t been waiting for this ever since they declared KO, getting wetter by the minute just thinking about the moment when she fucks you good and proper. 

“Come on baby…time for round 1.”

[artbyremi]

The Golden Child's Taste of Teenage Rebellion Preview

I've started working on a new multi-chap story.

Aprilnardo, Minor Angst, and Family Feels.

I'll be posting the first chapter on AO3 really soon so here's a little preview if your interested. The whole thing is outlined just gotta write.

It's the boys' first spring break since they started school and Leo has put together a list of all the things he and his brothers are going to do together. Too bad his brothers already made plans. Now Leo is stuck spending spring break with their Dad, preparing to open his new dojo.

What a fun spring break he has ahead of him. That is, until April comes to him with a new lead.

School wasn’t what Leo had been expecting. 

To be fair, he wasn’t really sure what he was expecting in the first place. TV and the internet made high school seem so exciting. There was always some kind of hot tea or relationship drama or mean teachers. 

But in actuality, school involved a lot of sitting in a classroom and listening to a teacher lecture for about forty minutes. Then the bell would ring and then you’d move to another classroom to do the same thing all over again. 

There wasn’t really any gossip that Leo was involved in and he liked most of his teachers. Sure, a few of them were pretty strict but never outright mean. His math teacher didn’t seem to be the biggest fan of mutants joining society but he never really took it out on Leo. A few weird looks or unnecessary comments every so often but mostly he just ignored Leo. 

Overall school was pretty mundane. It was a good kind of mundane. The kind of mundane all the boys had longed for. They loved being able to complain about homework and having to wake up early to be on time to class. They loved nagging their dad with permission slips and last minute trips to the store for school project supplies. 

High School had added a specific structure to their lives that they hadn’t had before and Leo loved it. He loved getting bacon, egg, and cheese sandwiches with his brothers from the same corner market on their way to school. He loved arriving early so he could catch some extra study time while he sat in the cafeteria with April. He loved bringing home his A-B report card to his dad, even if it wasn’t as perfect as Donnie’s straight A report card. Which totally wasn’t fair because he studied way more than he ever saw Donnie study. 

Sure, his brother’s may have nicknamed him a Teacher’s Pet but they were the same idiots who called him the Golden Child, or a Daddy’s Boy (Not true) so really, he had expected nothing less of them. Besides, he could tell they were all enjoying this new found structure in their own ways. 

Raph could finally get out all his energy in wrestling and Leo remembered him mentioning something about hockey try-outs. Mikey had way more people he could socialize with and he was a rising star on the school’s improv team. Donnie had found a group of friends that shared his love of anime and computers, plus according to Sai, the STEM club’s grad student volunteer, Donnie was showing great promise for a future in computer science or engineering. 

While Leo hadn't exactly found a new group of friends or any promising career prospects, he did find something else. 

A pair of familiar arms wrapped around Leo’s neck and a quick kiss was pressed to his cheek. Leo looked over his shoulder at April, a soft smile, spreading across his face. “Happy seven months,” she whispered. 

Leo leaned his head against her, “Happy seven months to you too.”

[neopuff]

ALWAYS ON MY MIND

chapter ten: made up my mind ships: sasha/milla characters: milla, sasha, oleander, ford, lili word count: 4787 ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53435410/chapters/137330335

[chap 1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9]

-

“You’re better at this than I thought you’d be, Nein,” Oleander said to his fellow counselor over dinner on the first day of camp.

“Uh…thanks,” Sasha responded. He wasn’t used to getting compliments from his coworker, even if it was a bit backhanded. Something was better than nothing, he supposed, and Milla made him promise to try and get along with Oleander while the children were around. He was, after all, nothing if not accommodating. Especially when she was sitting right next to him. “It helps that there’s only ten of them. I thought there’d be more.”

“Yeah, well, there’ll be more next summer!” Oleander responded while still chewing his food. “So don’t start thinkin’ being a counselor is easy! More kids means more heads to count and more mouths to feed!”

Sasha rolled his eyes at that comment, glad neither of the people he was eating with could see behind his sunglasses. He wasn’t involved in feeding the kids and counting fifteen instead of ten wasn’t exactly the trial and tribulation that Oleander described it as.

If Sasha wanted to be honest with himself, there were two elements to this camp counselor business that he was struggling with. The first was that the Grand Head’s young daughter, Lili, recognized him from the Motherlobe and kept speaking to him with much more familiarity than he felt was appropriate. She called him Sasha instead of Agent Nein. She also called him green bean, and she kept telling the other children that he was ‘a big softie.’ He’d never realized he made such an impression on her during their limited interactions in Grand Head Zanotto’s office.

The second thing he took issue with was a bit embarrassing. He was trying not to think about it too much. The dinner he was having with Oleander and Milla was the first time since waking up that he’d gotten to see his partner. And he was finding that he didn’t enjoy the camp as much when she wasn’t by his side.

He still reached out to her telepathically throughout the day, but Milla was almost always busy with one of the campers. She’d fallen back into childcare as easily and naturally as he’d expected, and Sasha was happy for her, he really was. But he’d gotten used to talking to her all the time and felt a bit empty without her thoughts in his head.

While they ate dinner - burgers, again - Sasha took note that Milla wasn’t focused on her food at all. She was watching the campers while they ate and chatted with one another and she looked very happy that they were all having a good time.

He turned to look at Morceau again since the man had quieted down, and was met with a knowing smirk and a repetitive glance between Milla and Sasha. Yes, sure, he’d just been staring at Milla. For a few seconds. Sasha didn’t think that was worthy of an annoying, suggestive stare. Telepathically, he reminded Oleander of his promise to stop, which led to the shorter man frowning and rolling his eyes.

Sasha spent the rest of dinner focused on his burger rather than conversation. He’d had a long day, after all.

X

Milla was really enjoying being a camp counselor.

It wasn’t like working at the orphanage, not really. A small part of her was worried that the experience might be triggering, which was the main reason why she’d hesitated about signing up. As much as she enjoyed being around children and teaching them new things, she didn’t want to put them in danger on the off chance that she had some sort of…episode.

It’d been a very long time since she’d experienced any of those particular issues. And with Sasha by her side, she felt confident that she’d be fine.

Unfortunately, Sasha wasn’t by her side as much as she’d hoped.

They were on the second day of camp, and she only really saw him at meals for the past two days. And it wasn’t as nice as their first two days on the grounds where they were by themselves, wandering and having a nice time. It’d felt almost like the romantic vacation that Morry had joked about. But he was right - once the kids had arrived, their free time was gone.

She really enjoyed working with the children. They were all so energetic and eager to learn and Milla was happy to teach them the basics about levitation. They also seemed to enjoy the music she played in her head, which was more than she could say for her partner.

Truman’s daughter stressed her out though - the little girl was now six years old, as her birthday had recently passed, and she really, really loved to play with fire.

Milla considered it a personal challenge to not focus too intensely on it. Lili wasn’t setting any other campers on fire and she was mostly just creating small balls of fire in the air and watching them dissipate, so it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. The previous camp counselors complained that she was attacking fellow campers, so either she’d learned from her mistakes or Truman gave her a talking-to.

Either way, Milla was focusing on deep breathing and levitation. And enjoying the beautiful lake, of course. She held her levitation classes on some docks floating on the water so even if she didn’t get a chance to swim, she’d be able to soak up the smell. It was very nice.

After a long day of training and an equally long dinner (thanks to Morry telling a story about his time on the battlefield, though he never specified exactly what battlefield that was), Milla found herself feeling a bit restless.

The children were all in their cabins, hopefully getting to sleep, but she didn’t feel like going back to her own. She wanted a little break from childcare - it’d been a long time since she worked with kids, after all. It took some time to get used to it again. And she assumed that Sasha was struggling, even if he refused to show it. So before he could wander back to their cabin, Milla reached out telepathically to see if he wanted to go talk to Agent Cruller.

Sasha sent back an affirmative.

Milla had discovered the locations of a few other hollow tree stumps that led to Agent Cruller’s sanctuary. Not wanting to make Sasha uncomfortable with another tight squeeze, she headed there by herself and let him know to meet her. They’d planned to visit Ford on the first day of camp, but everything was so crazy with all the children arriving that they hadn’t had an opportunity.

She levitated out of the stump and into Ford’s sanctuary; Sasha following a few seconds later.

“Good to see you two again!” Cruller said with a toothy grin. “Camp’s a little crazier than you would’ve thought, huh?”

Sasha pushed up his sunglasses and shrugged. “It’s about what I predicted.”

“You said you needed help with some projects?” Milla asked, stepping closer. “What kind of projects?”

“Missions, mostly.” Ford scanned over some of the floating screens around them and pointed to one in particular. “I’ve got access to some real top-secret information down here. But if I try to send it off to HQ, well…they’ll throw it out.” He sighed deeply. “But you two are senior agents! If you bring the mission specs back to Truman, he’ll have no choice but to hear you out!”

Milla glanced at Sasha. It was true, as senior agents they had full access to investigate and dedicate their time to missions not assigned by the Grand Head. She wondered if it was a good idea to get involved in whatever Agent Cruller was working on, though. He seemed almost completely sane while underground, but things weren’t always as they appeared. She couldn’t get a read on the man’s mind, either, which didn’t ease her nerves.

“I get why you might hesitate,” Cruller said, reminding Milla that he was able to read her thoughts without trying. “We can start off with something light. Something small! If my lead goes nowhere, then you can ignore the ramblings of a crazy old man. But if I’m right and the Noodler is back on the prowl like I think he is…well, then you two could really help me out!”

“The Noodler? Again?” Sasha stepped forward and looked at the screen that Ford was pointing to. He took a minute to read through the document carefully. “I can’t deny that it looks like a promising lead. But why wouldn’t the Motherlobe have access to this?”

“The Motherlobe has too many checks and balances to go through,” Ford mumbled, scrolling through the article on the screen. “My sanctuary here is untraceably accessing data from around the world!”

Untraceably? Milla frowned. That didn’t sound legal or safe.

Sasha looked back at her and adjusted his sunglasses, silently telling her that he understood the same risks that she did.

Still…the Noodler was a dangerous man. If they could stop him, they should.

“We’ll do it,” Sasha said. “After the end of camp, we’ll head back to the Motherlobe and get to work on this assignment.” He looked at Milla again. “If you agree, of course.”

She was a little nervous about the situation, but saving lives and taking down dangerous criminals was important. “Yes. We’ll help you, Agent Cruller.”

They spent another hour down in Ford’s sanctuary, discussing various details of the Noodler case and other missions he was preparing for them. It seemed that Ford didn’t get much sleep - whether it was due to his mental break or the psitanium overload, he worked nonstop through the night. It was no wonder he was able to build his sanctum and railway system in just over two months.

Sasha and Milla made their way back onto the campgrounds once they realized how much time had passed. Time felt like it passed differently underground.

“Hey! Where the hell have you two been?”

The agents had levitated out of the stump near Oleander’s treehouse, and he seemed very unhappy to see them. Morry was lighting the path with a fireball held in the air near his head, and he glared at them like they’d really done something wrong by staying out a little later than usual.

“Um…” Milla started, not sure what to say.

“Jesus Christ, forget about it. I don’t wanna know,” Oleander grumbled, shaking his head. 

It was pretty obvious what he’d concluded, but neither Sasha nor Milla could think of a better explanation for their disappearance, so they decided to leave it alone.

“You two can’t just wander off whenever you want!” Morry continued to glare, the fireball next to him glowing hotter every time he growled. “Just because the kids are in bed doesn’t mean they’re asleep! You should know better - especially you, Vodello!”

Milla frowned. Of course she knew that. But she also knew she couldn’t watch them every second of every day - especially not when several of the campers knew how to temporarily turn invisible. But of course, Morceau had to continue exhaling the air of superiority he felt over them simply because the camp was his idea. “We just went for a walk, Morry. Calm down.”

“Weren’t you here watching the cabins?” Sasha added, offended on her behalf.

Morry shook his head disapprovingly. “Of course I was! That’s how I noticed you two were gone!” He glanced all around him, his eyes landing on something in the distance behind Sasha and Milla. “Now you two get back to the cabin. I’m gonna go fight off that psychic bear!”

He bounced past the two of them and into the darkness; the light from his little fireball was the only thing either of them could see after a few seconds.

“...that was annoying,” Sasha commented dryly, running a hand through his hair.

Milla reached down and grabbed his free hand, tugging him along behind her as she marched towards the cabin. “Come on, let’s try and get to sleep before he comes back.”

X

Sasha didn’t explicitly, purposefully try to piss Oleander off. It just happened. Especially when he specifically did the opposite of what the shorter man told him to do.

But he couldn’t help it. Oleander wasn’t his boss. Sasha had, in fact, been a part of the Psychonauts for longer than Oleander, even if it was only by a few months. It didn’t matter that Oleander was older and had battlefield experience (however that could possibly be relevant to the camp). Sasha was not his employee and would only do as asked if it made sense for him to do it.

This dynamic led to a tiring handful of days at Whispering Rock. In his efforts to avoid spending any extra time with Morry, Sasha dove into his work as a counselor. He showed the campers around his mental cube and showed them how to PSI-blast censors into oblivion. It was good practice and he found it relaxing to feel censors being destroyed. It was certainly a win-win situation. The children didn’t seem to like Sasha all that much on a personal level - he definitely overheard one of the older campers call him intimidating - but no one could deny that they were learning.

After a long day of training, Sasha was looking forward to chatting with Milla and perhaps going to see Agent Cruller again. But when he sat down to eat (another goddamn burger), she was nowhere to be found.

“Where’s Milla?” he asked when Oleander sat across from him.

Morry shrugged. “She said something about not being hungry and then floated over that way,” he answered, pointing towards the reception area where they held regular campfire ceremonies.

Sasha frowned at the burger in front of him. Suddenly he wasn’t hungry, either. “I’ll go check on her.”

“Leaving all the kids in my care again, huh?” Morceau shook his head. “Not surprising.”

“Take my food and we’ll call it even.”

Oleander grabbed the burger greedily and plopped it onto his own tray. “Works for me! Have fun smooching.”

He didn’t bother to argue against that and quickly made his way towards the fire pit. Sasha had attempted to reach out to her telepathically, but found that she had closed her mind off to him. Most likely she’d closed off her mind to everyone, which left Sasha very concerned. It was rare that she felt bad enough to do that.

Sasha could smell the campfire, and as he turned a corner in the woods, he could clearly see Milla sitting alone on a log across from the flames. She was staring at them intensely, looking like she’d been hypnotized. He walked over, making sure to step on a twig or two so she’d know he was coming. It wouldn’t benefit either of them if he surprised her.

“Hi,” she said quietly as he sat down on the log next to her.

“Are you alright?” Sasha asked, ignoring the nudging at the back of his brain that said he was sitting too close.

“Fine.” She paused, then sighed. “No. Sorry. Not fine.”

He leaned his arms onto his knees and clasped his hands together. “If you’d like to talk about it, I’m happy to listen.”

Milla chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, then closed her eyes and sighed again. “Lili really enjoys fire.”

Ah. He wasn’t surprised to find out that that was the source of her anxieties. “She does.”

“She accidentally, um…well, I think it was accidental.” Milla stumbled over her words a bit, rolling her hands around in the air. “Set one of the boats on fire. I put it out right away and gave her a stern talking-to about it, but…” She sighed again and ran her fingers through her hair. “It’s still difficult sometimes.”

Sasha watched her carefully. It’d been a long time since they’d had a discussion about Milla’s issues with fire, especially since she’d been doing so well in avoiding triggers. They both knew going into the camp that there was a possibility she’d experience something that might remind her of harder times. “It’s always going to be at least a little difficult,” he said softly.

Milla took a deep breath, trilled her lips, then leaned over and plopped her head against Sasha’s shoulder. “Yeah, probably. A girl can dream, though.”

He closed his eyes and tried to will his heart into beating normally, especially when he noticed that Milla had scooted slightly closer to him on the log. It was very obvious to him, even in all his lack of social graces, that his partner was looking for some modicum of physical comfort. He was perfectly capable of providing such a thing, even if he’d have to work himself up to it.

So Sasha raised his left arm under her long hair and grabbed her left shoulder, holding her against him. That felt right. Sort of. It felt like the right thing to do.

Part of him realized the irony that he was doing exactly what Morceau had joked about, but he didn’t particularly care.

She reached out and grabbed his other hand with hers, absentmindedly stroking her fingers along his palm. The feeling was slightly intoxicating, but he knew that was just because it was Milla doing it.

“It’s true that these sorts of things will happen,” Sasha started. “What matters is how you react to them. It sounds like you did everything right, and hopefully Miss Zanotto won’t make that mistake again. But if she does…you’ll be there to help her.”

Milla squeezed his hand and leaned her head back just a little so she could look directly at him. “You always give such good pep talks, darling. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Sasha glanced down at her, nervously making eye contact. This was an extremely intimate moment for them that he knew he’d be filing away once it was over. If he was a different man, in a different time or place, maybe he’d even think that this was a perfect moment to kiss her. He would not be doing that, of course, since it would be insanely inappropriate. But the thought lingered in his mind nonetheless.

He did allow his hand on her shoulder to travel upwards and he lightly ran his fingers through her bangs. He’d noticed Milla doing that to herself when she felt nervous and thought it might be helpful.

She didn’t say anything about it for a moment before finally speaking up. “Mmm. That’s nice.”

If that wasn’t encouragement, he didn’t know what was. Sasha continued to run his fingers through her hair, gently stroking the side of her head while he did so. He didn’t want to stop, especially not when she was enjoying it. And he had every intention of keeping this information for the future…for the next time she was having a bad day.

She hummed satisfactorily as he continued his ministrations, and Sasha was suddenly even more aware of how close the top of her head was to his. He thought about how nice it was to hug her and hold her and play with her hair.

The crackling of the campfire and the chirping of crickets were the only noises in the reception area - far enough from the main lodge to block out the sounds of campers eating and chatting. Sasha could sense that there were no other minds nearby. He could sense that her mind was as relaxed as she said.

He leaned over and very lightly placed a gentle kiss against the top of her head.

It wasn’t anything special, especially not when she kissed him on the head or cheek anytime she wanted. But it was significant for him, as Sasha had not kissed anyone in a very long time. Not since he was extremely young.

It felt…nice.

Milla paused in rubbing her fingers against his palm for just a second - maybe even a half-second, hardly noticeable if he wasn’t paying such close attention - and then the relaxed aura radiating from her mind completely disappeared. He was about ready to let go of her and apologize when Milla pulled away and stared at his face, one of her hands still cradling his own.

“You’re such a sweet man,” she said softly.

Then, without a moment of hesitation, Milla wrapped her hands around Sasha’s head and pulled him closer to her. He’d gotten used to it (sort of), knowing that she was about to place a kiss on his cheek.

It was slightly different than usual, though. Milla’s lips came to an interesting part of Sasha’s face - technically on his cheek, but so close to his lips it made him feel more nervous than ever. He could feel the corner of her lips caress the corner of his own and he knew it didn’t quite count as a real kiss, but it was certainly something more. It was certainly something different.

Milla lingered there for a moment longer than usual and then pulled back, smiling brightly.

Sasha stared at her, not sure what to do or say. Her hands were still on the sides of his head and he knew that if he was going to kiss her, there would be no better opportunity. It felt right. It felt like she wanted him to. It felt really, really perfect.

But then she giggled and let go of his face and Sasha felt any semblance of confidence fade away. Not that there was much to begin with.

“I’m sorry, darling, I shouldn’t have worn such a dark shade of lipstick today!” She took off one of her gloves and pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket, giving it a lick before rubbing it against Sasha’s face. Right where she’d kissed him.

He pouted. “That’s not-” He paused as she swiped the handkerchief over his mouth for a second. “-...sanitary.”

“I think you’d rather have a little spit on your face than let Morry see you with a giant lipstick stain,” she said playfully.

Sasha couldn’t argue with that. He didn’t want to argue with that. He wanted to just sit and stare at her for an hour without interruption. But they had jobs to do and he needed to focus. Once she removed the stain, the goosebumps on his arms and sweat down the back of his neck would be the only evidence that anything had happened between them.

And his memories, of course. He would have to take a few minutes before falling asleep to do some mental organizing.

Milla pulled her handkerchief away from him and smiled. “There we go, handsome as always.” She put it away and stood up, brushing dirt off her legs and butt. “I’m actually feeling a little hungry now. Want to go back to the lodge?”

He stood up with her and adjusted his sunglasses. Hopefully she got the entire stain and not just part of it. The light of the campfire wasn’t the brightest, after all. “Sure. I could eat.”

She smiled and started levitating towards the lodge - Sasha quickly followed after her. He was glad she seemed to be feeling better.

X

Milla had an excellent last few days of camp.

After her little intimate - and undoubtedly romantic - moment with Sasha, the rest of the week had gone by like a breeze. Everything felt lighter. Lili didn’t set anything else on fire, the other children were excitable but falling in line and paying attention. It was great! Only one semi-disaster in an entire week of camp? That felt like a win.

The parents were arriving to pick everyone up - Truman picked up Lili, though Milla knew that he’d be taking her to the airport soon to spend the rest of the summer with her mother. Most of the other parents were fellow Psychonauts so she had a nice, brief conversation with Agent Bubai before he left with his daughter.

Milla waved goodbye to everyone as they got in their vehicles, then turned to see Sasha and Morry chatting off to the side. She hadn’t heard most of their conversation, but managed to catch the end.

“Alright, alright. You did a decent job. I’ll back off. Happy?”

“Delighted.”

Milla floated over and smiled at them. “It’s so sad to see everyone go.”

Morry nodded thoughtfully and Sasha shrugged, which was about the response that she expected.

“It looks like everyone had a nice time, at least,” she added, hoping to get a little more conversation out of the two of them.

“You bet they did! And I’ll-hey!” Oleander interrupted himself when he noticed Truman in the parking lot. “Zanotto! Wait a sec!” He rushed away from the two other counselors, almost slamming into Truman’s car as he tried to stop him.

Milla chuckled and glanced over at Sasha. “What were you two talking about?”

“Something idiotic,” he answered, adjusting his sunglasses again. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette. “It’s always something stupid with him.”

“That’s not very nice, darling,” Milla responded. She chose not to comment on the cigarette - he’d been smoking a lot less since they came to the campgrounds. Maybe the fresh air really was good for him.

He shrugged, taking a long drag.

Milla watched him standing there and suddenly felt very nervous. Sometimes it was hard to get a read of what Sasha was thinking, even when she had full access to his mind. She wanted to tell him something very important that could potentially alter their partnership for the foreseeable future, but she felt very strongly about it and the longer she put it off, the worse it would be.

She took a deep breath and tugged her hair behind her ears. She was probably overthinking things.

“Um, Sasha…” she started, then took a deep breath to calm herself down. “I need to talk to you.”

Milla could feel him start to get nervous, probably feeding off of her own nervousness. And then that made her even more nervous.

“About what?” he asked, though there was a slight hesitation in his question.

She clasped her hands together in front of her and stared out at the parking lot, not at Sasha’s face. Just in case he was unhappy with what she was going to say, she didn’t want to see his expression. “I…I would like to keep coming here. Regularly. Maybe even full-time, I don’t know. It depends how often the camp runs next summer. And I…I hope you do, too, but if not, then…” She tugged at the end of her hair. “Then we’ll have to put our partnership on hold during the summers so I can focus on the camp. I really feel like I can do a lot of good here and I’d like to pursue it.”

Having spoken her mind, Milla squeezed her eyes shut and hoped he wouldn’t be mad. Or worse, be sad.

“Camilla.”

She opened one eye to find him looking at her with a semi-confused expression. That certainly wasn’t what she’d expected.

“I’d be happy to come back here, too. I had a good time this week,” Sasha said, taking another drag of his cigarette. “With you. And the campers. It feels…rewarding, I suppose, to teach young minds.”

Milla smiled brightly. She’d been so pessimistic about what his response might be that she hadn’t even considered the possibility of him wanting to come back with her. Despite all of his bickering with Morceau, it seemed like the children and the outdoors had a very positive effect on him. “I’m so happy to hear that!”

He cleared his throat awkwardly and turned away from her. “It’s also nice to get away from the Motherlobe every once in a while. It can get noisy over there. Too many people bothering me. I could see myself building a small lab out here.” He paused and looked back towards the rest of the camp. “Maybe somewhere underground.”

She reached over and locked arms with Sasha, squeezing tight. “That sounds perfect, darling. Like a little home away from home.”

Sasha smiled at her. “So long as you’re here, too,” he said softly, almost too soft for her to hear.

But she did hear it, and she loved hearing it, and she wanted to hug and kiss him so badly it hurt. Instead, since she was a rational adult who did rational things and would not make everyone uncomfortable by smooching her partner in front of their coworkers and campers, she simply leaned into him and enjoyed the feeling of being so close to him.

Morceau was right. Whispering Rock Psychic Summer Camp was a great idea.

[eirinstiva]

"C’est l’éruption de la fin"

New letter from my friend Bertie Wooster and after reading again I can comment about this. This story needs a soundtrack and I chose the version I'm most familiar with of L'Internationale.

I really like to read about how was political activism before the internet era. In general I love history and political propaganda and humour are important part of history.

See this illustration?

It looks familiar:

This letter shows clearly how Bertie is the "mom friend" of his group, and that's why chaps like Richard Bingo Little always ask him for help. Wooster has the intention but lacks of creativity to make plans. That's why Jeeves is so important in this dynamic.

Before we start, give me your honest opinion. Isn’t she the most wonderful girl you ever saw in your puff?” He had produced a photograph from somewhere, like a conjurer taking a rabbit out of a hat, and was waving it in front of me. It appeared to be a female of sorts, all eyes and teeth.

Another very ace moment of Bertie and another woman in Bingo's history. How can he fall in love so easily? IIRC this is the fourth woman after Mabel, Honoria and Honoria's friend. Love makes Bingo blind and he can't see the red flags likes this one:

You must meet old Rowbotham, Bertie. A delightful chap. Wants to massacre the bourgeoisie, sack Park Lane, and disembowel the hereditary aristocracy. Well, nothing could be fairer than that, what?

I'm all "eat the rich" but not a big fan of a massacre myself [*sips mate tea*].

When I was in college/university/whatever I met some guys who used political meetings as a chance to meet girls. Communist girls were very famous during the Revolución Pingüina (Penguin revolution) in 2011 like (now minister) Camila Vallejo. None of them used fake beards, tho.

Dear Bingo Little, you don't think that maybe it's a bit too early to start with expropriations? How can you invite a group of people to the house of a friend and demand food?

There's a Comrade Butt, a horse, too much food and tea but I don't know how Jeeves can use it to help Bingo and Bertie. And yes, I'm more than sure that Jeeves will be the one solving this. He's the brain of this duo.

[drades-lair]

Sexy Parties

Fandom: HelluvaBoss

Rating: M

Pairing(s): Stolitzer, Fizzarozzie

Blitz released a loud sigh towards the screen of his phone, scrolling absently from where he was settled on the four-poster bed in the palace’s master bedroom. The room echoed with the sound of the shower from the on-suite bathroom, steam bellowing from its open door where Striker was showering. Blitz only perked when the shower shut off and Striker came striding out, towel wrapped around his waist as he dried his hair with another.

"Hmm, I love seeing you like that," Blitz commented, smirking as he looked Striker from head to toe.

"Hm? Like what, naked?" Striker inquired, cocking a brow as he stopped drying his hair for a moment.

"Domestic, but naked too," Blitz chuckled.

"Humph, domestic huh? Can't say I've ever been accused of that," Striker admitted with a huffed chuckle, continuing to dry his hair while walking over to the closet. Out of the corner of Striker's eye he caught sight of a bag with costumes sitting on the couch near the doors to the room immediately getting a frown on his face.

"Ha! I can see why, but when we're here you just seem more relaxed," Blitz retorted.

"Yeah...when is that party, thing Stolas wants us to go to by the way?" Striker inquired pulling the towel from his head as he gestured towards the bag of costumes.

"Oh, uh...I'll check, it's in my phone," Blitz answered, going through his phone again.

"Alright," Striker flippantly said, moving into the closet to change while Blitz did his thing.

"Uh, okay... oh, tomorrow actually," Blitz chimed.

"Humph, great." Striker retorted from in the closet sounding less then enthusiastic at the news.

"Yep...something wrong?" Blitz wondered upon noting the tone Striker was using.

"Nah, I just wanna get it over with," Striker answered, emerging from the closet wearing a pair of loose jogging pants and pulling a t-shirt over his head.

"You sure? I know when Stolas first brought it up you weren't comfortable with the idea," Blitz persisted

“I just don’t understand why we have ta wear such ridiculous costumes,” Striker stated.

“I mean…it is a sexy costume ball,” Blitz shot back.

“I stand by my previous statement, damn blue bloods have the weirdest ideas for parties,” Striker shot back with an irritated cocked eyebrow.

“You don’t have to come you know,” Blitz offered sensing his mate’s discomfort.

“Nah, it’s fine. If I don’t how’ll that make me look?” Striker responded.

“You sure?” Blitz persisted.

“Yes,” Striker’s tone emphasized the point that he was done talking about this thus Blitz respected his mate’s decision by dropping the subject although it didn’t dampen his worry.

Next day…

Stolas emerged from the walk-in closet wearing a sexy leather outfit, tight shorts with a halter top containing a heart shaped peek-a-boo window. Blitz hummed approvingly clad in his tight leather shorts to match Stolas’ and leather harness, waiting for Striker to emerge from the bathroom where he’d been changing into his outfit.

“Seriously, who the fuck chose these costumes!?” Striker groused, walking out of the bathroom. The costume was a pair of black boxer briefs with a pair of black assless chaps that had red accents and to top it all off a black cowboy hat with a pair of black cowboy boots.

“What? I think it suites you,” Blitz retorted, raking his eyes over Striker’s lean muscular form.

“Ugh…I’m expected ta walk around in this? In public?” Striker questioned, gesturing to his lack of clothing.

“Everyone at the party is going to be in the same amount if not less, clothing,” Stolas offered, attempting to ease Striker.

Striker groaned irritably as he tried to restrain his tail from rattling, he hated drawing attention to himself after all his whole job relied on the opposite. Begrudgingly joining his mates, the trio prepared to head down to the ball room for the sexy party that Stolas had been chosen to host. As predicted the ball room was packed with royals including a few familiar faces, Asmodeus was standing near the far end of the ballroom with Fizzarolli casually chatting with some drinks in hand. Asmodeus was wearing a pair of knee high-high heeled boots in black leather, a pair of black leather shorts and a black leather pentagram harness that had a small pair of black bat wings on the back. Fizz was in a lime green G-string with matching pentagram harness, a pair of lime green ankle high heeled boots and a hood that looked like a frog. Stolas moved to begin mingling with the sin of Lust with Blitz following intending to chat with Fizz while Striker uncomfortably followed in toe, arms crossed over his chest as he stayed close to his two mates despite being unwilling to admit he needed them for comfort at the moment.

“Hey bitch!” Blitz greeted Fizz with a wave.

“Hello Asmodeus,” Stolas greeted the sin in turn.

“Well, well if it isn’t the whore? How you doin’ Blitz,” Fizz greeted in turn with a smirking grin, reaching out to invite Blitz into a hug.

“Stolas! Hey birdie babe, love the outfit~” Asmodeus happily returned the princes greeting.

Striker watched as the group began to converse casually with one another, leaning against the nearby wall to give himself some sort of security. Watching the ballroom carefully his tail wrapped around his thigh, this was not his idea of a good time however if he’d refused to come it would have disappointed Stolas.

“What are you supposed to be?” Blitz asked Fizz with a raised brow.

“I’m a frog, duh,” Fizz stated gesturing to the frog hood he was wearing.

“Uh-huh…a slutty frog?” Blitz added, with a suggestive eyebrow wiggle.

“Obviously,” Fizz confirmed with a smirk and a shoulder shrug.

Blitz began chuckling when his gaze fell on Striker leaning against the wall looking less then comfortable with this whole thing. Excusing himself from the current conversation with Fizz, he headed to Striker where he leaned against the wall beside his pale counter part.

“You, okay?” Blitz asked.

“I’m fine Blitz,” Striker retorted flatly.

“You sure?” Blitz persisted.

“Yes, Ya don’t need ta babysit me,” Striker insisted with a small snarl.

“Alright, alright, as long as you’re sure,” Blitz chuckled, raising his hands in defense.

Striker scoffed as Blitz headed back to offer getting drinks for Fizz, Ozzy and Stolas, who accepted prompting him to head towards the bar. Eventually the small group moved to meet Blitz halfway leaving Striker a bit further away then he’d like, when as luck would have it an unwanted yet familiar face made its way through the crowd.

“Well now, do my eyes deceive me. Striker, is that you?” Andrealphus crooned moving swiftly towards the pale imp before he had time to disappear into the crowd. The peacock had on an elegant sky-blue gown that had slits clean up to his hips and a peek a boo heart shaped window on his chest along with a pair of white wings behind him and a halo over his head…ironic on multiple levels.

“What the fuck do Ya want?” Striker snarled irritably.

“Oh, don’t be that way~ I think I see why my sister was so insistent on hiring you now,” Andrealphus retorted, cooing as he looked Striker from head to toe with a smirk.

“I repeat, what the fuck do Ya want?” Striker reiterated with a growl.

“Humph, nothing much…” Andrealphus trailed off, smirk turning sinister as Striker watched the icy Goetia wave a hand prompting two other male demons in mascaraed masks to come over. Striker felt his gut twist as the men began chatting with Andrealphus…something was off.

“Is this him?” The one crooned gesturing to Striker.

“Yes, yes, this is the imp I told you about. Isn’t he charming?” Andrealphus cooed in turn.

“Positively charming,” The second man agreed.

“So, where’s Yer bitch of a sister?” Striker growled, not wanting to make too much of a scene at Stolas’ party yet wanting to find a way to get back to his mates.

“Oh-ho, he’s certainly got a mouth on him,” The first man chuckled.

“Doesn’t he now, as for Stella, she didn’t want to come after everything she’s been through,” Andrealphus briefly answered.

“Nothin’, she didn’t deserve,” Striker retorted, making his move to get back to Blitz and Stolas when hands grabbed him by the arms followed by a clawed paw wrapping around his mouth.

…

Striker found himself hauled off to a private room located down a hall a short distance from the ball room, grunting as he was shoved onto a couch by a pair of hellhounds. Clutching to the back of the couch with his tail rattling ferociously like a cornered animal Striker snarled towards the trio who’d been talking to him in the ballroom that now stood in the doorway.

“Hmm, you’re right Andrealphus, he is a lovely specimen~” The first man cooed again.

“Yes, I hope you gentlemen enjoy yourselves,” Andrealphus stated.

“What are you all talkin’ about?” Striker demanded.

“He’s so feisty too, I can’t wait to have my way with him,” The second man stated, voice turning sinister.

“What!?” Striker’s voice broke for a moment, mind putting together the pieces of what was happening.

“Yes, yes, I give you full permission. He’s all yours, just don’t break him too badly,” Andrealphus chortled darkly.

Unwanted memories started flooding Striker’s mind, remembering how nobles use imps as party “favors” at their fancy balls…how he was used once before…passed around till he broke and even then, it didn’t stop. The men in masks began to close in on him causing the pale imp’s tail to rattle a new as he snarled in preparation to flee or fight. Andrealphus huffed a disgusted noise then waved his hand causing Striker’s hands to become frozen to the couch promptly trapping him as the men continued their advancements.

…

Blitz got lost in the conversation with Fizz and Ozz not realizing till some time passed that Striker was no longer anywhere to be seen. Instant concern began to well up in Blitz’s gut as his eyes desperately darted around the ball room for his mate. Ordinarily Blitz wouldn’t worry too much about Striker as his pale counter part was more then capable of taking care of himself, however this was a different matter considering Striker’s past as well as the fact he’d been uncomfortable from the jump with this whole thing made things not sit right.  

“Stolas, have you seen Striker?” Blitz inquired with a hint of desperation in his tone.

“Hmm, no. Why?” Stolas responded, a hint of concern tainting his question upon picking up on Blitz’s desperation.

“He’s missing, I-I can’t find him,” Blitz briefly stated.

“What? Asmodeus, have you seen Striker?” Stolas inquired of the sin.

“Huh? No, wasn’t he just over there a moment ago?” Asmodeus asked in turn, pointing to the wall where Striker had been standing.  

“He was but now he’s gone, please…can you help us find him?” Blitz pleaded with Fizz and Asmodeus uncharacteristically.

“Why the worry? That cowboy hick is more then capable of taking care of himself, isn’t he?” Fizz retorted with a shrug and a clear dislike for Striker in his tone.

“Usually, I’d say yes…but…Striker wasn’t comfortable with being here in the first place,” Blitz began, frown settling on his features as he hung his head with guilt building in his gut.

“Well duh, a room full of ‘blue bloods’ of course he didn’t want to be here,” Fizz stated making air quotes around the word’s blue bloods.

“You don’t understand…there are…things…you don’t know…things that happened to Striker. Please, help me find him,” Blitz Pleaded again causing Fizz to back off a bit in surprise.  

“Alright, we’ll help,” Asmodeus agreed.

The group split up to ask the other guests if they’d seen Striker only to collect some disconcerting information, Striker was last seen with two male royals and a familiar sounding Icey blue peacock Goetia…Andrealphus. Blitz was seething, how the fuck was Andrealphus at the ball? They hadn’t invited Andrealphus nor Stella for obvious reasons yet some how the slippery prick managed to slink into the party. Stolas was none to pleased either upon finding out that Andrealphus had snuck into his mascaraed ball let alone that he may have Striker, fortunately Stolas had a good idea of where they’d gone suggesting the private rooms that offered guests an opportunity to get away from the party for a while if need be.

“We gotta go! If those pricks are doing anything too him…” Blitz demanded with a snarl, trailing off as Fizz interjected.

“Look, don’t get me wrong we should go help and all, but…why are you so concerned? Again, Striker can handle himself, can’t he?” Fizz interjected, honestly confused considering he’d seen firsthand what Striker was capable of.

“It’s…it’s complicated…can we just fucking go!?” Blitz insisted, gesturing wildly.

“Easy Blitz, we’re going now,” Stolas assured the imp, gesturing for them to head off.

Upon arriving to the hallway of private rooms Blitz swallowed hard around the lump in his throat, there were ten different rooms, and Striker could be in any of them. The group headed off to start searching the rooms, calling out for Striker in hopes to find him before anything happened to him. 

…

Striker lashed out with a foot as one of the man’s hands got a little too far up his inner thigh, panting from panic as he fought against his own head more then the people in the room. The other man caressed a hand down Striker’s chest causing the imp to flinch, eyes squeezing shut with a growl through gritted teeth.

“Don’t fuckin’ touch me!” Striker barked, struggling against the icy binds.

“Hmm, such a feisty little imp!” The man cooed sliding his hands down to Striker’s hips.

“Striker!” Blitz’s voice cut the air like a dagger causing Striker to perk.

“BLITZ!” Striker called out right before being silenced by a muzzle made of ice.

Andrealphus was too late in silencing Striker however, the door bursting open as Blitz entered the room with a growling snarl. The two men recoiled upon seeing Prince Stolas standing behind the enraged imp whose expression softened a bit upon seeing Striker struggling to coil in on himself, head dipped to the one side with shallow panting breaths. Stolas glared daggers at the trio in the room.

“P-Prince Stolas!” The first masked man stammered.

“What are you doing here?” The second asked in turn.

“Get your hands off my mate!” Stolas snarled, eyes glowing bright crimson in anger.

“Y-Your…mate…but we thought…” The first man stammered again, looking to Andrealphus who was cockily standing with his arms lightly crossed over his chest.

“You thought wrong! Now leave with your life while you still can!” Stolas warned, gesturing for the two men to leave.

“Y-Yes…thank you,” The duo stated, taking Stolas’ offer as they rushed out of the room.

“As for you! I’m going to call that guards!” Stolas barked towards Andrealphus who simply smirked then sighed in disappointment.

“I don’t think so, we’ll continue this later. Farewell little imp,” Andrealphus cooed, waving a hand causing him to disappear in a flurry of snow.

“Damn!” Stolas cursed under his breath.

“Should we go after him?” Asmodeus chimed in as he and Fizz appeared behind Stolas.

“No, I’ll have the council deal with Andrealphus later,” Stolas answered, tone carrying a harsh promise behind it.

Asmodeus gave a small nod of understanding when a small whimper drew their attention further into the room. Stolas’ expression turned to concern upon seeing Striker curled on the couch with his tail wrapped around himself, hurrying to his side with Blitz while Asmodeus looked on with Fizz in surprised disbelief.   

“Striker! Striker!” Blitz called to his mate.

Blitz crawled up next to Striker gently taking his face in his hands as the pale imp struggled to get his breathing under control, chest heaving with each breath. Stolas knelt one leg on the couch to balance while he leaned over to break Andrealphus’ ice restraints using his magic causing Striker to turn to the side, claws digging into the couch as he doubled over towards Blitz.

“F-Fuck…I…I can’t…breath…” Striker panted out, eyes squeezing shut as he tried to regain his composure.

“Easy darling, we’re here,” Stolas cooed, gently grasping Striker’s upper arms from behind while Blitz gently pulled Striker’s face up to get him to focus.

“Breath…focus on me, Striker,” Blitz encouraged as Striker clutched at his chest with a hand.

Asmodeus didn’t know what to think about what he was seeing neither he nor Fizz had seen Striker in such a state. Stolas gently caressed Striker’s arms with a furrowed brow of concern as Blitz tapped his forehead to Striker’s.

“Did they touch you?” Blitz asked in a quiet tone.

“N-not…in…that way…” Striker managed to pant out.

“That’s the best scenario then…just keep focusing on us, we’re here,” Blitz continued to encourage.

“Asmodeus, could you retrieve a blanket? Please,” Stolas implored of the sin having not forgotten his presence.  

“Yeah…sure…” Asmodeus agreed, immediately heading off.

“Is…is he okay?” Fizzarolli inquired hesitantly as he entered the room with both hands in light fists near his chest.

“I-I can’t…go back…I can’t…do that…again…” Striker panted under his breath, body shaking slightly.

“You won’t…me and Stolas are right here,” Blitz assured his pale counterpart.

“I know…I know…just stay…please,” Striker quietly pleaded.

“Always love,” Stolas assured Striker just as Asmodeus returned with the blanket, bringing it to Stolas who gently draped it over Striker to cover his exposed body.

Slowly Striker’s breathing leveled out as his mind calmed, returning to the present day as he sat back on his heels and pulled the blanket around himself. Stolas already instructed Asmodeus to send everyone home from the Halloween mascaraed ball meaning once Striker was capable of somewhat clear thought he was guided by his mates to the master bedroom. While Striker showered to further calm himself Blitz and Stolas went to bid Asmodeus as well as Fizz farewell, however not before explaining Striker’s unfortunate past to them.

“Shit, I didn’t realize he’d been…is he gonna be, okay?” Fizz wondered, feeling a little guilty for having judged the pale imp so harshly.

“Yeah, sadly I’m aware all too well of those sorts of things,” Asmodeus admitted, sorrow situated on his features.

“He will, fortunately those ruffians didn’t do anything beyond arouse bad memories for him,” Stolas assured the duo.

“Yeah, we’ll get him through it…thanks for helping,” Blitz offered, rubbing the back of his neck a little awkwardly for having jumped down Fizz’s throat earlier.

“No problem, let us know if there’s anything else you need,” Asmodeus offered with a warm smile.

A final farewell saw Asmodeus and Fizz off while Stolas returned with Blitz to the master bedroom where Striker was getting into a pair of gray sweatpants. Blitz and Stolas had gotten into casual night ware themselves earlier upon guiding Striker to the bedroom, sitting on the beds edge Striker released a deep sigh as he ran a hand over his face with his other draping casually over his right leg. Blitz gingerly approached his mate, gently placing his hands on the pale imp’s thighs as Striker lowered his hand to drape over his other thigh to look at Blitz with a tired distressed gaze.

“How you doing?” Blitz inquired.

“I’m fine…really…just…tired,” Striker stammered out.

“I believe you,” Blitz assured his pale mate, leaning up for a quick kiss before pulling back.

The trio climbed into bed together with Striker on the far right, after something sets him off like this it was always awkward as Striker wanted comfort from his mates but didn’t at the same time. Thus, they came up with a sleeping pattern for these moments, Striker sleeps on one side while Blitz curls up behind him and Stolas curls up behind Blitz allowing for the comfort Striker required with out too much physical contact. They knew it would take time for Striker to fully return to his normal self, a fact that was fine by his mates.

[tsaritsa]

First thank you for all the amazing Royai you’ve written! Is there a particular Royai fic (or two) you’re looking forward to writing? Is there a particular Royai fic (or two) that you’re looking forward to reading? I know anything you share is amazing!

hello and ty friend! of all the royai wips i have chilling in my scriv files, the two that i'm the Most Interested rn is a piece in very early days i'm calling better the devil you know which is a piece from grumman's pov about realising who riza hawkeye actually is, as well as my subsequent chapters for and delivered a crime.

idk what it is about grumman that i'm so interested with rn -- meddling family? the rejection of some found family? some weird succession vibes???? but there's Something Going On There. i like how he provides an outsider's pov to royai, and how his interest don't always align neatly with theirs. it makes for more tension i think, espe when he is saying one thing and then doing another. cognitive dissonance? or perhaps he's well aware hehehehe >:))))

right now i am literally sitting down to read a couple of fics bc i am trying this new thing where i deliberately read fics and then comment. it's so easy to consume fics -- i don't wanna even look at what my history says about astarion/tav rn -- but usually i'm reading them right before bed and i'm not at all in the mood to use my brain enough to make legible comments. i find it espe hard on my phone, but on my laptop i have a cool add on that lets me highlight and insert text into the review box and so anyone who's got comments from me int he past year will be familiar with my literal live reaction comments as i work my way thru the writing.

first fic is God Forbid by @aicasey -- they had me at military ball and whispered confessions (royai week 2k24???? maybe) and so i am going to devour all 4359 words and then vomit out some comments that i hope make sense.

after that i'm inhaling @megthemighty and her megaminded brain that brought us a posse ad esse. fics that are royai but basically just a study in riza and how she experiences the world are my all-time fav. i know without even having read it yet that i am gonna be wanting the second chap immediately.

[denimbex1986]

'Netflix has just dropped an extended trailer for the hotly-anticipated Ripley TV series - leaving fans' jaws on the floor.

Andrew Scott stars as conman Tom Ripley in this adaptation of Patricia Highsmith's 1955 novel The Talented Mr Ripley, though many readers will perhaps be more familiar with the sumptuous Anthony Minghella film version from 2000 - starring Matt Damon, Jude Law, Gwneth Paltrow, Cate Blanchett and Philip Seymour Hoffman.

This new version - shot in stunning black and white - follow's the titular lead as he scams his way to a life of untold wealth in 1960s Italy. Hired by a wealthy chap to retrieve his wayward son, Dickie Greenleaf (played by Johnny Flynn), Tom swiftly finds himself captivated by his employer's lavish existence. In fact, he becomes so entranced that he devises a scheme to assume Dickie's identity.

In the new trailer, we see a fixated Tom disturbingly repeating Dickie's way of speaking in the mirror. Meanwhile, Dickie's better half Marge Sherwood (Dakota Fanning) senses there's something not quite right lurking behind Tom's perfect demeanour, so alerts both Dickie and the authorities, to no avail.

"Tom is one of those people who take advantage of people," Marge says in the clip. "He's taking advantage of Dickie." But while Dickie seems unfazed by Marge's concerns, Tom begins to grow increasingly irritable at her incessant suspicion.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he tells Marge in another scene, as his body language conveys quite the opposite. But Marge's worries are corroborated once a certain Eliot Sumner discovers the conman's fake IDs and demands an explanation. With the Italian police also on his trail following Dickie's mysterious disappearance, Tom has to constantly watch his back.

The eight-episode series is written and directed by The Night Of's Steven Zaillian, who also penned the scripts of Martin Scorsese's Gangs of New York and The Irishman, as well as Steven Spielberg's Schindler's List.

'Every shot looks like a beautiful charcoal sketch'

Fans were quick to comment on the thrilling new trailer. Here's just a selection of what some of you had to say:

@honomyanlem9849: "The cinematography looks insane!"

@MariaVosa: "You had me at Andrew Scott. But Andrew Scott as Tom Ripley!?! Countdown to April 4 starts immediately!"

@FrankieWasHeShaking: "Genuinely one of the best and most intriguing Netflix Original trailers I’ve ever seen. Incredible."

@KathySolorzano: "As much as I Loved Matt Damon as Tom Ripley, I think I shall love Andrew Scott even more. Looking forward to this ..."

@RickHaydnHorst: "I knew Andrew Scott was incredible the first time I saw him on Sherlock. I’ve wanted to see him more, and finally, he’s getting the roles he deserves."

@amandasaunders2503: "Having Andrew in this had me sold but then to see the cinematography? Every shot looks like a beautiful charcoal sketch!"

@shirley1989: "Easily one of the best trailers I have ever seen, love it!"

@dlweiss: "I already know that Andrew Scott can bring the creepiness, so my one big hope is that his performance is also allowed to show how charming and convincingly harmless Tom is capable of appearing. That dichotomy is at the heart of what makes him such a unique monster."

@marc8750: "Finally something worth resubscribing (for). They (Netflix) don’t make good miniseries like they used to."

*Ripley comes to Netflix on April 4.'

[baronaliswritingcorner]

Everything here -- from the detailed pep talks to the flood of comments echoing their shared paint of radio silence -- hit so damn hard. Let's talk about it!

As it happens, I joined the Fire Emblem: Three Houses fandom riiiiiight when the Fódlan Fever cooled down in early 2021 -- to illustrate: while the scene remained active (and still is!), numerous veterans in my particular faction gradually retreated from fandom life (if they hadn't already) and while there was a fair number left, they typically congregated around familiar writers rather than engage new ones.

Consequently, the window of a welcoming community rapidly shrunk. As someone who had their decades-long fanfic prejudices gradually stripped away by the passionate zeitgeist surrounding Three Houses' output, you can imagine my immense disappointment when I took the courage to step forth and try their hand at the game only to be met with little-to-no reception time after time. You ever write a multi-chap fic that *no one reads?* Believe me, it sucks.

While this is a situation writers of all stripes fall victim to (as proven above), it's especially difficult for newcomers looking to share their passion and are likely navigating unfamiliar spaces. Discord servers may greet your works with emoji stickers rather than any meaningful feedbacks, or just simply talk over your newest prompt. Positive reception to your latest WIP doesn't translate to actual comments, and you can't help but feel led on. Worst of all, those barely afloat in a sea of radio silence may have their heads pushed under by bad apples, be it envious writers who block others to sate their jealousy, ungrateful recipients who ghost the exchange gifts you poured weeks and months of love and hard work into, or even fandom mods who, rather than address criticism with humility and compassion, coldly blow off any and all complaints rather than exert any effort at problem-solving. (The last two, alas, happened to me -- on my very first fic exchange, even! But that's a story for another day.)

My point is: it's very easy to feel unappreciated in fandom -- a space meant to share works you've poured your whole heart into -- and the citation of fandom cruelty/cliques are painfully spot-on. "I'm writing for myself" seems to be a common mantra in the fanfic-sphere (including here), but having come off a stagnant writing career in favor of a quieter (and more private) retreat in fandom, that can come across as cold comfort when you're looking to forge connections with a new community. Of course, as suggested previously, you can't just measure a fanfic's success by reach and reception either, so while "keep writing" may be tried-and-true advice, that can be hard to stick with without a proper roadmap.

What advice can I impart upon folks who had a rough start like me? Well, here's four suggestions:

1. There's nothing wrong with starting small. While you may seek to make a splash with that ambitious long-fic you've been brainstorming, that might sting all the more when you end up sinking into that dreaded void. Again, having that albatross around your neck is not fun, and while there's no shame in simply walking away, it can definitely hurt knowing all the passion and vindication you poured into your work made no waves -- especially when it's your big debut.

Rather than plunging head-first with a big fic, I recommend dipping your toes first: Multi-chap fics can be a huge time investment for both writers and reader alike, and I've personally found readers are more receptive to trying smaller fics (mainly one-shots). It's a great way to cultivate an audience that'll grow to appreciate your strengths, breed budding rapports with, and who will certainly grow to eagerly anticipate your more ambitious fics. Sow your seeds first, and *then* whip out the big guns.

2. Treasure the rapport you discover. I can't emphasize this enough. The connections you do -- and will -- forge will override any gauge of success you measure yourself with. It'll still sting if something underperforms, of course, but just geeking out over your latest romcom or mystery long-fic chapter will matter *far* more than how many comments or kudos you'll receive.

Like anywhere else, not everyone's going to be your friend, but the friends you do make were drawn to *you* for a reason. Embrace that. And by that, I mean...

3. Lean into your strengths. Look, I'd be lying if I said I hadn't personally embraced my patented absurdist humor for years and years, but I most certainly did not expect that to catch on with Fire Emblem of all things. Regardless, there's no higher praise in knowing a joke landed well, or that I had someone "LMAO" throughout one of my comedy fics. If I brightened your day with a simple laugh, then mission accomplished!

In time, people will recognize your signature quirks -- from your fluffy love stories to angsty character studies -- and the audience you foster will happily engage in that dopamine rush of comedy, romance, and what have you. Of course, you'll eventually want to experiment -- part of the writing gig and all that! -- but if something doesn't work out, don't be afraid to fall back onto what works to get the blood pumping again.

4. Prioritize your mental health. In case I didn't hammer this point home enough: a certain Discord server ended up being a woefully unhealthy environment for me; enough, even, that it ended up the catalyst for a mental health decline. (Ever work three weeks for a prompt fic that everyone -- and I mean everyone -- in a server immediately ignores? Yeah, that's *also* not fun.)

Unfortunately, not everything works out and there comes a time where you do have to make tough decisions if you want to keep engaging in fandom. In my case, it was after the fanfic exchange disaster when I knew I had to set some hard boundaries and that meant no more Discord servers or exchange events. Bummer.

As you can imagine, distancing myself from my corner of fandom was tough, but not only did my mental health benefit in the long run, I found it adjusted my expectations accordingly and I even found some fun compromises -- sure, Secret Santas are off the table, but I'm certainly up for exchanges between friends!

There's other things I could elaborate upon -- my bad experience with a mod aside, I recognize they can't solve everything and they're human beings like you and me -- but know that falling to the void is more common than you think; actually, I'd wager most everyone who's dabbled in fandom can attest to it. We've all been there! "Just keep at it" may sound like rote advice, but it's tried and true.

After all, that multi-chap of mine? Maybe it didn't take off like I'd hoped, but half a year after its completion, someone commented on it and said the ending made them cry -- the very same ending I built the entire fic around.

What better vindication can I ask for?

any advice about how to deal with posting a fic and getting radio silence? I know ppl aren’t owed engagement ofc, but I feel embarrassed at having spent so long on something no one cares about, and although I liked thinking about the characters and fandom before (and was considering writing more about them), now I can’t think about it without feeling that overpowering embarrassment 😭 part of me wants to delete the fic, but that would mean having to open ao3 and look at it again LMAO

sorry for the venting, I know this is probably a me problem, but has anyone else felt this, and if so, is there any way to make this pervasive shame go away??

*hugs* This is a very painful thing to experience and there isn't really any way to make it just go away, unfortunately. However, you can reflect on it a bit, when you're ready to.

Writing and posting are separate activities. If you've enjoyed writing the story but you haven't enjoyed posting it to the Archive, you can always continue writing just for yourself. This may or may not be something you'd enjoy - you know better than I do whether some of your enjoyment came from the anticipation of a reaction to your work.

Try to analyze where your embarrassment is coming from. Is it worrying that your story was poorly written? A lack of a reaction doesn't mean that the story is bad. Being unpopular doesn't mean it's bad, either. If your story is good to you, then it's a good story.

Is your embarrassment from feeling like you were "caught trying." Is it a cringe at the idea that you put effort into something that someone else doesn't (appear to) find valuable?

Is it actually embarrassment at all? Are you feeling a different kind of hurt instead? Did you hope that someone in particular would read your story and now you feel ignored? Did you hope to be embraced by your community and now you feel shunned?

These are difficult questions that I'm asking and you might not want to think about them right now. That's okay. You don't need to if you don't want to. You can definitely delete the fic and pretend it never happened. Or you can log out of that AO3 account and create a new one and never look back. Maybe you just need to take a week or a month off for a hiatus of sorts and when the ache isn't as bad, you'll be able to face it all again.

When I felt this way, it was because I felt like I'd put something into my community and that I'd been ignored. But since that time, I've found one person who gives me all of the community support I used to get from an entire fandom, and now when I post something on AO3 I don't actually need a response anymore. I get all of the fun and excitement and validation etc from my conversations and RP threads with my best friend.

Once you've got a little distance from the pain of this moment, try to figure out what it is that you were hoping to get and then figure out how you can get it. Maybe it's through posting fic to AO3, but maybe it's not.

Let's see what others can suggest. This is not something you're experiencing alone, anon. So very many of your fellow fan writers have experienced this too ❤️

[l3m0ncyan]

New at Life | Chapter 5

Steven Grant/Marc Spector x latina!teen!reader

Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

Author Note: Longest chapter I think

——————————————

The whole of the apartment was filled with rays of the sun. . The brightness of the morning woke Y/N, groaning at how her body felt so weak and sore. 

She opened her eyes, blinking away the grogginess and sat up. Small dust particles could be seen in the light, evidence of the flat needing cleaning. Letting out a small groan again, she fell back onto her pillow which she soon regret when she felt an abrupt feeling come from her throat.

Y/N rushed to the restroom and kneeled down to the toilet, heaving continents of her stomach. She wiped the excess from her lips and went to the sink to brush away the foul taste. 

As she brushed, she looked at herself in the mirror and noticed how pale she looked. The collar of her hoodie was damp from her sweating all night. She had dark bags under her eyes and her lips were chapped. 

“I look fucked up,” she commented, spitting out the foam in her mouth. Looking back up, she was met with a quick reflection of her eyes gone and replaced with long white curvy ones. She let out a gasp before she quickly opened the faucet and splashed water on her face. 

Once she looked back up she was back to normal, her eyes back to the standard color. She stared at her reflection for a moment, waiting if she might get another hallucination which never came.

Y/N walked to the kitchen to prepare her breakfast but paused when she saw the bag of groceries still on the dining table. That’s when the memories of last night hit her like a train. She remembered everything. From the walk to the grocery store to the dark alley, to the man.

Her breath hitched, the remembrance of how the man tackled her down and pinned her to the floor. How she kicked him off of her and how his lifeless body laid on the ground. Did she kill him? Her breath began to quicken with the thought of killing someone, especially just leaving their corpse in such place like an alley.

She shook her head slightly trying to shake off the thoughts, but she then began to think of how he begged her for help. How she couldn’t do anything. The guilt was eating her, thinking of how his last moments were lived in pain as he looked to the one person who could have helped. 

Still, what could a young girl like her do? There may be heroes in this world, but she wasn’t one, and never will be.

Light knocking snapped her out of her thoughts, bringing a second of silence to the apartment before there was more knocking. 

Instinct told her it was probably Steven as she began to make her way to the door but she stopped. There was also the possibility of the cult finding her, how did they find her apartment? Who knows. 

Paranoia began to infest her mind. Against the better of her logic, she imagined the dead man from last night standing at her door knocking away. His thin and pale body leaning to the side as he tries to get inside. Darn her imagination. 

Between a few of the knocks she heard a faint voice, almost recognizable. “Y/N? Are you back from work?”

She peeked through the peephole of the door, the figure seeming blurry through her vision but soon focused on a familiar face. 

Steven stood at her door, pausing at each knock as he waited for an answer. He wore a comfortable outfit; a grey knit sweater with jeans and his hair styled as usual. There weren’t signs of him in distress or as if he escaped from a basement, probing Y/N’s theory incorrect.

With no response, he figured that Y/N was still at work or on her way. Steven turned to head into his apartment when he heard the rattle of doorknob behind him. Once he turned to face the young girl, he wasn’t expecting to see her in a disheveled state. 

He took notice oh how her undereyes were heavy and her forehead had a sheen of sweat. “You don’t look too well, love. Did you get a fever last night? I hope you didn’t go to work in that state. Speaking of which, I profoundly apologize for missing my alarm, I bet you were yelling at me through the door,”

Y/N furrowed her brows and thought of what day it was today, “Work? We’re off today, remember?”

Steven blinked almost believing her but offered her a smile, “Ah, good one, you are such a prankster. That isn’t right though, is it? It’s Friday.” 

He stood quite proudly, usually he would always fall for Y/N’s pranks but this time he didn’t. Y/N was rather confused however, was he playing a prank on her this time? Not exactly how you would do one. 

She walked away from the door which caused Steven to hold the door open before it swung closed. He eyed Y/N as she made her way to the dining table to grab her phone. She wondered if maybe the events of Friday to now were all just a fever dream. Maybe it was Friday after all.

Her phone however opposed that thought, telling her it was actually five of the afternoon on a Sunday.

—

At Steven’s flat, the two sat across from each other at his dining table. Y/N explained to him how he went missing for three days, keeping out the event of last night. He seemed shocked for the most part before he frowned and took a sip from the tea kettle he prepped for him and Y/N.

“So I guess I missed my date with Dylan?”

Y/N hesitated but slowly nodded, giving him an apologetic frown. She felt terrible for him, even though he didn’t remember he asked Dylan out, for whatever reason, he seemed excited. Then again how busy was he with his mother for him to not realize he was gone for those days?

“Unfortunately, you did and if I was her, I wouldn’t be too happy to see you tomorrow at work,” Y/N crossed her arms and leaned her back against the chair. Steven nodded, looking down at his cup. He sure did seem lost in the whole situation.

There was a stiff pause before she raised a brow as she looked at Steven and spoke, “You seem very confused for someone who went to take care of their mom, speaking of which I hope she’s doing okay,”

Steven furrowed his brows and tilted his head slightly. Last time he remembered his mother was off in the countryside and thankfully well. It has been a while since he saw her and knows he has not gone to see her recently. 

“My mother?”

“Yeah?” 

“I never went to see my mum, it’s been months since I did actually,” 

She looked at him trying to find any hint that he was joking. Instead his eyes were only resided and looked at her for the same reason.

“Right, and I am actually a ghost. I literally have the message from when you texted me,” she gestured to her phone that was on the table. She opened the messaging app ready to show him the proof but staggered.

Concerned, Steven asked, “What?”

Despite the fact that there was no reason to, Y/N attempted to scroll through the messages in search of the one she mentioned. There were, however, none. 

"I swear they were right here," she scratched her head, knowing it couldn't have been her who deleted them, unless her phone had a glitch.

Steven watched as she became even more stressed before taking her phone and putting it down, saying, "Hey, I believe you but I really don't remember. I remember giving you those school supplies, saying good night, and going to bed, and now I hear I was gone for days,"

He really was telling the truth, Y/N could tell. "Yeah, I just like seeing the logical side of things," she groaned, leaning back in her chair. "Maybe you blacked out?"

"Probably," Steven shrugged, taking another sip of his tea, "but I would have been dehydrated or something if that were the case."

Y/N hummed in response and followed his lead with her tea. So much has gone on in the past few days in a quick record of time. It was honestly straining for her brain. 

It was quiet between the two, but it was a pleasant atmosphere. The light sound of London's busy streets could be heard just outside the window, which easily filled the space. It was strange in this situation because the two had only known each other for a month.

In spite of this, they made silence something that they can share without feeling the need to break it.

Steven looked around the apartment when his eyes landed on the box of chocolates that he bought for his date, which was out the window now. Y/N eyed him as he grabbed the chocolates to which he noticed, “Guess we shouldn’t let these go to waste, right? Besides, it will probably make you feel better,”

He opened the container and grabbed a piece before sliding it towards Y/N. She shrugged and grabbed one aswell, it was like any chocolates you would find for Valentine’s Day. She popped it into her mouth, her cheeks getting goosebumps at the sudden sweet taste. Steven hummed at the savory treat, his hand reaching for another.

The silence came back but they didn’t complain until Y/N found a bottle of wine sitting at the table, which she weirdly just noticed.

"These chocolates alone probably won't do the job," she said, motioning to the bottle. Steven's eyes widened as he realized what she was insinuating and he immediately shook his head.

“Absolutely not! Your mind is still developing and this will not help, just drink your tea,” he said, lifting his cup to his mouth. 

Y/N's shoulders sagged as he heard the unfavorable news. Still, she wasn't surprised he objected; he'd always had fatherly instincts since she'd known him. "It's just a sip, maybe it'll loosen us up because we need it."

He looked at her, studying if she was in the right head space. She was only eighteen; yes, it was legal for someone her age to drink in the UK, but he still thought it was terrible. Yet, he knew he needed more than a few sips with this long day; he could only imagine how much stress she was under when he went cold turkey.  

Steven sighed and took a hold of the dark bottle, saying, “Alright, only a sip and off to bed with you.”

“Only a sip.” 

Is what they tried to stick with, but after an hour, they were about halfway through the bottle. The effects weren’t taking a toll on Steven since he knew how to keep his alcohol down, still he felt loose. When it came to Y/N whatsoever, she found everything rather comical while still keeping a conscious mind. 

Some of the conversations consisted of how the two’s love life have treated them terrible. As she spun the last few drops of red wine in the mug she used for the (now gone) tea, Y/N shared her envy of how at least Steven had someone who was interested in him.

“Back at my hometown, no one looked at my direction, if they did, it wasn’t that they were focused on me but more towards my friends who were next to me,” she let out a small laugh. 

Steven frowned at her statement before pouring a bit more in his cup, “It’ll happen soon, hell this was the first and I am in my 30s. Just give it time and you’ll find the one, you are still young and much more social than I am.”

"If I'm being honest, I think you are the most social. Even though you did freeze the moment Dylan spoke to you," she teased, to which Steven responded with a glance.

As the topic of relationships slowly faded, Steven and Y/N found themselves diving into stories from their childhood. With each tale, they were able to look through a window of how their two lives differentiated. 

Odd how two different worlds could clash from one encounter.

With every story they exchanged, their friendship grew stronger, discovering more common ground than they could have imagined. They laughed at each other’s funny moments and empathized some trials they faced as kids.

"For my birthday, my parents would buy this big chocolate cake," Steven reminisced, his eyes lighting up with fond memories. "After I blew out the candles, they would only get one slice while they left the rest for me."

Y/N listened attentively, a smile playing on her lips as she reached for another chocolate from the heart-shaped box. "That sounds nice, different from the birthdays I had or attended though."

“What do you mean?”

A mischievous glint sparkled in her eyes as she recounted the unique tradition. "Well, for one, once we blew out the candles, they would tell us to take a bite from the cake, but it was always a trick. The moment your face was only an inch away, splat! Someone already dunked your whole head into the pastry."

Steven's eyes widened in amusement, trying to picture the hilarious scene. "And you would still eat it?"

Y/N nodded with a playful grin, "Yeah, wouldn't want it to go to waste."

Her hand tried to grab another chocolate from the box, only to find it empty. Taking a look she realized that they both finished the entire thing, “Guess we didn’t let those go to waste either,” she giggled.

Steven looked at the box and turned to grab the bottle only to see the last bit of it towards the bottom, “Yup, we sure didn’t”

Y/N looked at the two containers before letting out another laugh, and Steven couldn't help but join in as well. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe they just completely lost it, but didn’t care.

The scent of chocolate lingered in the air, mingling with the sounds of their laughter. The apartment was dark with only the light of Gus’s fish tank and the light above their heads illuminating their view. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in their little cocoon of merriment. All their worries and responsibilities were forgotten for that moment.

They didn’t remember the last time they laughed this hard, especially while sharing it with someone.

———

The morning sun came, waking Y/N from her slumber. She expected for some kind of hangover but was surprised to find none. It seemed like she was a heavyweight when it came to her alcohol. Maybe.

She quickly dressed for her upcoming work shift at the museum, dressing warmly because it was chilly outside. 

She sat at the table, making herself a quick plate of breakfast while waiting for Steven to get ready. Hoping he wasn’t missing again. She scrolled through social media for a few minutes, seeing how many posts some mutuals had uploaded.  

One post she came across was from a woman she followed; usually, she would post recent news; politics, celebrities, and even supers would get their due. She clicked on the video and let it play, curious as to what she had missed.

The woman gave her usual brief introduction before diving into the topic, "Do I have crazy news for you guys! On Friday afternoon, law enforcement officials reported that a Hydra base had been discovered in London!"

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly but she didn’t give it much thought, continuing to listen.

"However, it turns out that this base was conducting experiments on people, what kind of experiments? It hasn't been stated, but that is irrelevant. As they tried to save the victims, one fled the building, attacking any officers who were in the way. The video I'm about to show you is of his escape."

A video was shown of a cell being opened and officers entering with their guns drawn. They were thrown against the wall and fell unconscious before they could check the room. A dark figure emerged from the dust and gunshots, with what appeared to be long tentacles that quickly multiplied into many. As officers tried to apprehend him, his limbs wound back and fired at them. The video footage was cut off before the attack could be shown. 

“Crazy stuff, huh? Well us at HQ did a bit of snooping around and found out who was our escapee. His name is Marcus Bourne,” the video cut from showing the woman to showing a picture of the said man. He had pale skin and mid-length dark hair, wearing what seemed to be a grey tank top. 

The moment he came on screen, Y/N’s body tensed up, her muscles stiffening. The familiar face on the screen triggered a flood of memories from that Saturday night, and she could feel her chest tightening with each breath she took. 

Her breaths became shallow and rapid, ar if her lungs refused to cooperate. Her heart pounded relentlessly in her chest, its thumping echoing loudly in her ears. 

“Poor guy. Everyone who is in London or near, stay cautious. Officials say if you see him to–” Y/N immediately closed out of the app and put her phone down.

Her hands trembled uncontrollably. She clutched to the edge of the seat, desperate to anchor herself. Her mind continued replaying the scene over and over again, tormenting her. 

A knock echoed through the apartment, snapping her out of her thoughts. Startled, she turned her head towards the door, trying to steady her rapid breathing. Glancing at the clock, she realized how quickly the minutes had passed.

Grateful for Steven's timely arrival, she hurried to the door and opened it. Without a second thought, she embraced him, seeking comfort in his presence. His jacket enveloped her, and she breathed in his familiar scent, finding comfort.

However, she noticed that he didn't respond to the hug, and instead, he cleared his throat, causing her to release him abruptly. 

"Oh, sorry. It's just... well, I don't have a good explanation," she chuckled nervously, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. At least she wasn't panicking like earlier.

When she finally looked at him, she couldn't shake off the strange feeling that something was off.

It was undoubtedly Steven standing there, but he didn't seem like himself. He was usually slouching, but now he stood tall and rigid, his jaw clenched tightly. The most striking change was in his eyes. 

They appeared sharper and more intense, looking down at her with an unfamiliar intensity that made her feel small – a feeling she had never experienced with the real Steven.

She furrowed her brows and before she could speak, he said a quick, “Let’s go.”

He turned and immediately started walking towards the elevator leaving her behind. Shocked, she quickly grabbed her bag and locked her door before running down the hall to catch up to him. 

The elevator door slid open, and the two stepped inside, a momentary hush settling between them before Y/N decided to break it.

"Geez, are you in a rush or something?" Her words carried a hint of suspicion, but all she received in response was silence from him.

“Steven?”

Once again she her question hung unanswered in the air. Growing tired of this treatment, she aggressively tapped his shoulder to which his shoulders tensed to. 

With a roll of his eyes and an exasperated exhale, he turned his gaze toward her. "What?"

"Is everything okay?" Her voice took on a slightly assertive tone. "You're usually the one who starts the conversations."

“Let’s stay quiet on the way to work, alright?” his replies was curt, his attention set to avoid her.

Her eyes widened, caught off guard by his response. Offended and perplexed, she had half a mind to give him a piece of her mind, but another thought flickered across her consciousness. His voice – it sounded different, lacking the usual accent.

Before she could react further, the elevator doors slid open again, and he walked out without waiting for her. She didn’t have a moment to comprehend the situation before she fixed the bag strap on her shoulder and followed quickly behind.

The both of them were on the bus before Y/N knew it. It was a quiet environment between the two. 

Usually Steven was the type to check in on her, make sure she was alright, but this time it was nothing. In response, it was Y/N who found herself grappling with whether he was angry at how the two became intoxicated last night. 

With only a few minutes until their arrival, Y/N kept herself occupied by quietly observing her fellow passengers. Her attention was drawn to a mother gently cradling her baby, a touching scene. The following image depicted an elderly gentleman with his hand firmly gripping a cane for support. Then there was a group of friends having a lively conversation.

There wasn’t a remarkable story to see nor be able to use as a topic to break the silence between her and her neighbor. She shifted her gaze back to Steven, the question of how his accent went away still weighed on her thoughts.

Exhaling audibly, she finally broke the prolonged silence, “Look, if you’re angry about me sort of pushing you to have wine, then I am sorry,”

Anticipating his gaze to meet hers, hoping for a hint of understanding in his eyes, she found herself met with the same fixed stare directed out the window.

“I really am sorry, you shouldn’t have to deal with my antics, I just…wanted to have fun or something,” her voice trailed off, realizing she didn't have a clear reason in mind.

She avoid glancing at him, expecting she would only be met with another bout of silence. “Could you at least say something?” she pressed, frustration nudging into her voice.

When she finally looked at him, the realization hit her like a cold wave. Steven's body was tense, his fist clenched and quivering. Her gaze moved from his trembling hand to his face. His eyes seemed to be rolling back, his breathing strained.

“Steven?” Her voice was tinged with concern as she shook him gently, only to feel his tremors intensify. “Steven!”

Panic gripped her as she frantically scanned the bus for help. The mother offered a sympathetic look but averted her eyes, the elderly man stared at the floor, and the group of friends seemed to find amusement in the spectacle, recording it on their phones.

Steven's eyes widened, and a scream ripped from his throat, breaking the uneasy silence. Y/N was startled, her grip on him loosening instinctively as she wondered if her touch had triggered this reaction. His scream faded as quickly as it had come, and he looked around, confusion clouding his features like a jigsaw puzzle of fragmented memories.

“Steven, you okay? What happened?” Her voice quivered with a mixture of concern and confusion, her brow furrowing as she held his gaze, searching for answers. His posture shifted back to normal, aside from his panicked look. 

He looked at her and slowly understood the situation, he sleep walked again. This time however he awoke to being on the bus in his work clothes which was odd. His sleep walking was getting worse. 

“We have to get off.” 

She looked at him to see if he was serious and saw how his eyes carried a genuine fear in them. She nodded and the two called for the bus driver to stopm quickly getting down from the bus. 

Steven looked back and his eyes widened, recognizing one of the passengers, “Oh my god, he’s real,”

Y/N stared at the vehicle leaving and back to Steven who continued to stare, “Who?”

He shook his head quickly, “I’ll explain later, we should just go before they come,”

Steven broke off into a speed walk, heading straight to the museum which was a block or two away still. Y/N paused for a second, frazzled by what just happened. First it was the way he acted to how he was acting now. It was too much and it was just about nine of the morning. 

–

Entering the museum's entrance, Steven made a beeline for JB, who, as usual, was engrossed in his phone. Despite his apparent distraction, JB always had a keen awareness of the museum's visitors.

“Ah, there you are, Scotty. You gave little Y/N quite a fright,” JB teased, casting an amused glance at Y/N, who responded with a frustrated, deadpan stare.

Aware of the tension, Steven shot Y/N an apologetic look before he began explaining his predicament to JB. Y/N stood to the side, listening as Steven tried to make JB understand, each explanation met with a witty retort.

“How do you propose I put a stop to it?” 

“Just don’t let them in”

“You do realize it’s a free admission to the public right?” JB leaned back in his chair, eliciting a faint creak from the leather.

Y/N groaned before stepping into the conversation, “Look dude, it’s been a long morning, just do this one thing and after that you can continue sitting on your ass–”

“Finally, you two show up! There are boxes of items you need to set up,” Donna interjected, brandishing a box as she approached Steven and Y/N.

“Right, I'll get to that, but first, I need to –” Steven attempted to explain, only for Donna to cut him off, showing no interest in his excuses.

“You missed work yesterday; that was a warning,” she asserted, her attention unwavering.

While Steven endeavored to reason with Donna's intransigence, Y/N surveyed the museum's visitors. Her gaze skimmed over the various faces until it rested on one that was eerily familiar – the man who had purchased the crocodile figure on Friday, the one with the unsettling smile.

Startled, she instinctively stepped back, just as she heard Steven gasp, “Oh my god, that man was on the bus,”

The puzzle pieces clicked into place for Y/N. She looked at Steven with a mix of shock and realization, “The cult is following you too?”

Caught in a moment of shared understanding, Steven mirrored her expression, “You're dealing with them as well?”

Conflicted between terror and a strange solace that she wasn't facing this alone, Y/N considered that if the cult was initially after Steven, their interest might have shifted to her as a means to get to him. The question lingered – why Steven?

Donna’s impatience interrupted their thoughts. “I couldn't care less; can you two just take these –”

“Give us a minute,” Steven interjected, and he and Y/N moved away from her.

Taking the lead, Y/N guided them toward the stock room, a retreat from the mounting chaos. “Let’s just get away from here and we’ll just catch our breaths in the stock room, yeah?” She glanced at Steven, who nodded in agreement.

A male voice sounded from behind them, stopping them in their tracks. "So, you do work here," the voice said. They swung around to face the speaker. The man behind the cult was dressed in red, wielded a cane, and had a mane of gray hair cascading to his chin. 

“I had assumed Steven Grant was an alias. Imagine my surprise to find you here,” he remarked, a chilling smile playing on his lips, before his gaze shifted to Y/N.

“Yet, you weren't alone, were you? You must be Y/N L/N.” The man's knowledge of her identity sent shivers down Y/N's spine; she was undoubtedly a target now.

“I honestly thought you were undercover, but it turns out you're just a young girl caught in the crossfire,” he added, evoking a sense of foreboding.

Steven scanned the vicinity, spotting a security guard and waving him over. "Oi, Ronnie! This man's been following us,” he yelled. His words ceased when Ronnie rolled up his sleeve, revealing the same scale tattoo they had encountered.

Returning their attention to the man with the cane, they approached cautiously. “Mate, I don't have your scarab, so if you'd just –” Steven began, only to be cut off by the man's headshake.

“The scarab doesn't belong to me,” he said, placing a hand on his chest and pointing to a painting on a pillar. “Do you know Amit?” he asked.

Both Y/N and Steven exchanged puzzled glances before turning back to the man. “She's an Egyptian goddess, right?” She checked Steven for confirmation which he nodded.

“She was a bogeyman for evildoers,” the man's approach compelled them to step back. “But she grew tired of waiting for sinners to commit their crimes before punishing them,” he continued, drawing closer.

“That's great. I'll be sure to read up on her in my books,” Steven tried to muster a light tone, his smile feigned.

“Yeah, she sounds great. I’ll add her to my altar with the Virgin Mary,” Y/N's attempt at humor was intended to defuse the tension.

Approaching the corridor's end, the door abruptly slammed shut, jolting them. Their gazes darted around for an alternate route, but it became apparent they were trapped in a circle of cultists. Resigned, they stood still, compelled to listen to the man's voice.

He began describing how the world might have been altered if Ammit had been unleashed. How her power could have thwarted history's malevolent figures. “She was then betrayed, by her fellow gods. Even by her own avatar.”

“Avatar? You mean the blue people? Great film,” Steven tried to inject a touch of nonchalance. Y/N nodded and joined in.

“Oh, the animated kids' show? Fantastic series,” she added with a smile, masking her underlying fear. 

“Stop it,” the man demanded sharply.

“Are you planning to kill us?” Y/N's voice quivered as she blurted out the question. The museum's lights began to flicker intensely, and it became evident that this was no mere electrical issue.

The man stepped closer to Steven and whispered something in his ear. Y/N strained to hear, catching only the word "voices."

The man stepped back, rolling up his sleeves to reveal the same scale tattoo that Y/N had noticed since arriving in the UK. He then grasped Steven's wrists, using them as a balance for his cane, and asked, "Do you want to know the truth?"

The cane began to sway back and forth, a bizarre act in itself. Y/N's gaze was drawn to the tattoo, her eyes widening as she saw the scale tilting at a steady pace, as if influenced by some invisible force. The sight left her both mesmerized and unnerved.

“There’s chaos in you,” the man's gaze shifted to Steven, his own surprise evident.

“Alright, that's enough of that,” Y/N intervened, pulling Steven away. Her sudden action disrupted the delicate balance, nearly causing the cane to drop to the floor before the man managed to steady it.

He turned his attention to Y/N, his focus unsettling. "And how about you? May I see your wrists?"

As if their plea had been answered, the door they had tried to enter earlier swung open again. Casting a quick glance at their escape route, then back at the man, they seized the opportunity and hurriedly fled to the stock room.

—

After locking the door, they took a few moments to regain their composure, attempting to slow their racing hearts and quiet their racing thoughts.

“Who was that guy? How did he know my name?” Y/N's grip on her chest tightened as she felt her heart thump wildly, her legs almost giving way beneath her.

“Actually, I have seen him before, ” Steven's forehead creased in deep thought, his gaze fixed on the floor. Y/N watched, waiting for him to piece together his thoughts. With a deep breath, he began to explain.

“I thought it was a dream at first, but obviously it wasn't. It happened after I went to bed on Friday,” he began.

“I woke up in a different place, different country, I think. I had a golden scarab in my pocket and suddenly men started shooting at me. I didn't understand why at first, so I ran to a nearby town. There, I saw a crowd gathered in the center, all staring at a man with a cane,” he recounted.

Y/N immediately recognized that description, realizing it was the same man they had just encountered.

“He performed the same trick on me as he did now, but the scales turned green, and he claimed the man was pure and innocent. Then, an elderly woman stepped up, and the scales turned red. She died,” Steven's voice trembled slightly.

“She insisted she had led a good life, but the man with the cane insisted that she would do something terrible in the future. After that, they noticed me and found out about the scarab. It led to a fight, gunfire, a car chase...” Steven's hands raked through his hair in frustration. “I'm sorry. If I had just given them the scarab, maybe things would have been different. Now they're after both of us.”

He rambled on, his anxiety palpable. Y/N stepped in, “Hey, hey, it’s not your fault. Really, they have been around since I’ve came, so I doubt you have been causing any trouble since then,”

Her words seemed to catch his attention, and she went on to tell him about the cashier from the noodle shop, the one he had introduced her to. It suddenly made sense to him why she had always been avoiding that place. Then she recounted the man she saw on Friday, the one who had been asking about Steven.

“Later, I found out they were part of a cult, and now we've just met their leader,” she finished.

Steven nodded, confirming, “We did.”

Y/N's next question hung in the air like a heavy cloud, “What do we do now?”

Steven took a moment to think before responding, “We'll continue our shift. And afterward, we'll go to the police.”

“But what if they're involved too? You saw Ronnie,” Y/N pointed out, nervously picking at the skin around her nails.

“If that's the case… I honestly don't know,” Steven admitted, his fingers massaging his temples. “We'll figure it out later. For now, let's focus on finishing our shift.”

——

At the end of their shift, fatigue had settled in as Y/N and Steven finished scanning the new pieces of merchandise Donna had assigned them. Their overnight shift had left them alone in the museum, save for a few janitors quietly going about their business. As the lights flickered off, signaling the museum's closure, they knew it was time to leave.

With their bags slung over their shoulders, they began their walk toward the exit. Y/N broke the silence, her voice laced with uncertainty, "So, I guess the police station is still an option?"

Steven pondered for a moment before replying, "Well, it wouldn't hurt to try, right?"

"That's true, and I have my trusty metal pole," Y/N half-joked, though her nerves were palpable.

"Exactly, you'll keep us well protected," Steven teased, nudging her playfully.

A noise suddenly echoed from behind them, causing both of them to halt in their tracks. They turned, peering into the dark recesses of the museum, the only sources of light being the softly illuminated displays.

"Did you hear that? It sounded like a dog," Y/N whispered, her voice tense. Steven nodded in agreement.

"Probably just someone's pet left behind," Steven reasoned, starting to walk toward the sound.

Y/N grabbed his hand, pulling him back with a hushed urgency. “Don’t you think that’s weird? The cult already knows where we work, and the janitors or security guards would have reported a stray dog. Actually, come to think of it, they might be part of this too," she whispered rapidly, her paranoia evident.

Steven, however, wore a reassuring smile. “You’re being silly. It's likely nothing. I'll check it out real quick." He resumed his path, whistling and clapping his hands in a feeble attempt to coax the dog out.

Standing back, Y/N's eyes darted around the darkness, her apprehension deepening. “This is the shit that gets people killed in horror movies man” she muttered under her breath to Steven.

He chuckled softly. "Oh, come on. You know those are just works of fiction."

Continuing on they went through a few displays. Looking around with only the lights of the displays illuminating their way, Y/N looked to her left to where both the reflection of hers and Stevens was at. Staring at them, she could see that she looked quite messed up. 

As Steven continued walking, she thought she saw his reflection just stand there and turn to look at her. Freaking out already, she ran up to catch up to Steven. 

“Alright Steven, I'm starting to lose it here, let’s just get out of here,” Y/N pleaded.

Steven turned to her and attempted to reassure her, his voice strained but steady, “You're just still rattled from earlier. Everything's fine.” He maintained his smile, continuing to whistle in an effort to mask his own fear.

Rolling her eyes, she reluctantly trailed behind him. Truthfully, Steven's bravado was just as much for his own benefit as it was for hers. He felt the knot of anxiety gnawing at his stomach, but he couldn’t afford to show it. Not now.

A low growl reverberated from the corner of the room. Both froze, the sound sending chills down their spines. Anticipating a dog’s approach, they instead caught sight of an ominous shadow – a tall, emaciated silhouette that resembled a werewolf.

Y/N’s grip on Steven's sleeve tightened, her knuckles turning white. Slowly retreating, they sought refuge behind a display, clutching their bags for reassurance. An unexpected voice echoed through the museum's speaker, sending a fresh jolt of panic through them.

“Steven and Y/N of the gift shop,” the voice crackled. Their exchanged glance spoke volumes: they were trapped, and the situation had escalated dangerously. “Return the scarab or be torn into pieces,” the voice threatened before abruptly cutting off, leaving them alone with the looming threat.

Y/N turned her gaze to Steven, her lips curling into a bitter smile as she muttered, "I told you so." But her expression turned fierce as she whispered, "We should've just left, dog and all."

“I deeply apologize a million times, but I don’t think right now is a good time for who was right or wrong” Steven quickly whispered back.

Nodding, Y/N peeked out to assess the creature's position. It was a mummified creature with the eyes of a dog, its eerie glow piercing through the darkness. Its growls intensified as it approached, sending shivers down their spines.

Steven glanced at their belongings and motioned towards the open space. Realizing his plan, Y/N hesitated briefly before nodding. They flung their bags with all their might into the center of the room, diverting the creature’s attention. Y/N’s ten-dollar tote bag became the beast’s prey as it lunged at their abandoned belongings.

Seizing the opportunity, Y/N and Steven sprang to their feet and tiptoed away, their eyes never leaving the creature. But their escape wasn’t entirely noiseless – Steven accidentally bumped into a display, teetering a vase precariously. He shot Y/N an apologetic smile before the roar of the creature forced them to break into a sprint.

As they dashed away, their screams mingling with the creature's guttural growls, they finally saw a door ahead. Racing through it, Steven’s voice urged them onward, “Go! Go! Go!”

“What do you think im doing?!” Y/N shot back.

The grunts and growls only fed their terror. Y/N led the way, frantically checking for an unlocked door. Finally, she found one and threw it open, screaming to Steven, “Come on!”

They plunged into the room, slamming the door shut and pressing their combined weight against it. In the respite of that moment, the creature’s frenzied attempts to break in filled the air, its strength reverberating against the door.

“What the hell is that?!”

“I think it's a jackal,” Steven panted.

Y/N’s brow furrowed, “You mean those creatures from the pyramid era?”

Steven nodded in agreement, not about to correct her on the historical inaccuracy. Edging away from the door, they scanned the room desperately for an escape route or a makeshift weapon. But how could they possibly combat something so monstrous?

“Shit, shit, shit, shit. We’re screwed,” Y/N's voice trembled as she clutched her head. “I won’t graduate, I won’t even go on a date, neither will you,” she babbled in panic.

“We’ll be alright, we just have to,” Steven trailed and tried looking around.

Despite their attempts, deep breaths were nearly impossible. The relentless banging and scratching from the jackal at the door reverberated through the room, their impending doom closing in.

Y/N watched Steven, noting his focused expression as he muttered to himself. Perhaps it was the adrenaline playing tricks on his mind. There was no time for that now.

“Oye, Steven? I know this shit is getting too much, but I can’t handle losing you this fast,” Y/N snapped her fingers in front of his face.

His gaze snapped to her, then to the mirrors. “Control? What control?” he muttered, his focus shifting between the door, the mirrors, Y/N, and back to the mirrors.

“Steven, please, I'm already terrified,” she stepped back as he continued talking to himself. The door was showing signs of giving in, dents multiplying.

“Y/N,” he addressed her, his voice strangely calm, “I need you to go under the sinks.” She complied without question, making space for him. Yet, he remained standing.

“Steven?”

He looked down at her, “Don’t worry, you’ll be safe”.

Panicking, she reached out to him, “No, no! Steven!”

Suddenly, a voice echoed in the air, the same voice she had heard from him that morning. Steven’s gaze lifted, his arms stretched outwards. Lights flickered, hieroglyphs illuminated the walls, and a wind began to stir.

Facing Steven again, she saw cloth started wrapping around his body. 

The door burst open, and the jackal lunged at him. Y/N screamed, shielding her eyes. She couldn’t bear to witness what was happening. Steven was gone, and she was next.

But the cries of pain didn’t come from him. Instead, they were from the jackal. Trembling, she peeked out and saw a white figure struggling with the creature. Her voice caught in her throat.

She watched as a figure in white boots fought the jackal mercilessly, her eyes fixed on the gruesome scene. The hooded figure, its cape trailing behind, turned towards her, its eyes glowing.

“You can come out now,” it spoke, its tone eerily calm.

Y/N hesitated, then crawled out from under the sinks. Keeping her gaze fixed on the hooded figure, she stood up, dusting herself off, her eyes a mix of disbelief and confusion.

“Steven?” She croaked out his name, her voice shaking.

He shook his head, looking at her. “I guess you're going to find out anyway,” he said, his voice carrying an air of gravity. With a gesture reminiscent of Steven's transformation, he unwrapped the cloth around his body. 

The figure before her appeared to be Steven, yet not quite. The same demeanor he displayed that morning was there - the erect posture, the firm jaw, the intense eyes. As she sized him up, he seemed to scoff at her bewildered expression.

“You’re not Steven, but you are, but also you’re not?” Her voice quivered with confusion.

Rolling his eyes, he took a step closer, his gaze locked onto hers. “That’s because I'm not him.”

She tilted her head, her brows furrowing as she studied him, searching for answers that were yet to be revealed.

“Call me Marc.”

——————

Sorry if they sounded out of character, really trying to keep Steven lowkey patient and kinda while Marc is mean and grumpy.

Also if you want to be part of the tag list don’t be afraid to ask :)

Tag list: @itsjusspele

[yoongsisbae]

Handshakes of a Lifetime - Chapter 6

BTS soulmate AU. OT7 x reader / Taehyung x reader focused in this chapter, slight Jungkook x reader and Namjoon x reader

Usually by the time I finish a chapter, I will have a nice chunk of the next chapter done, when I finished chapter 5 I had TWO SENTENCES FOR THIS CHAPTER cries, ugh this was a journey lol but I had fun along the way :). Also, I wanted to shoutout @missseoulite I remember having a really bad day when I saw your sweet comment about being eager for the new chap and just knowing someone cared enough to wish me safety and care about my well being, well it meant a lot to me, so this chapter is dedicated to you my dear!!!! <3

Word count: 10.3k

Warnings: death, mention of a suicide, if you’re like me and don’t like to think about being old this chapter might trigger an existential crisis lol, cheating, men being sexist, angst but also fluffiness, sex with Taehyung, breeding kink, a character calls you and Tae children but you are two very grown adults I just wanted to make that super duper clear.

---

“I want to try, I think it would be worth it, you’ll be worth it.”

‘Why did he have to say that,’ you wince, looking over at the idol. He is beautiful, way out of your league, above you in every way, and he’s looking back at you like his whole world hangs in the balance. How could you reject him now. You groan.

You stand up. You place your palm in front of his face, your fingers splayed out, you can see his wide excited eyes in the gaps between them. You look at him expectantly. Taehyung nods, places his palm to yours, interlocking your fingers together.

Your heart thumps wildly as darkness fills the room. You open your eyes once you hear the familiar voice of your husband call out to you, “No need to fret anymore, my beloved. I’m here now.” Taehyung’s hand covers your old and frail fingers. You lie in your bed, body tired and weathered from all the years you’ve spent on this earth.

Your eyes roam over the room, taking in all the faces of your beautiful children and grandchildren. The pain in your tired joints fades as you focus on the man you’ve only grown to love more in all the years you’ve been together. It’s because of him you’ve lived a fulfilled life full of love. With him by your side you’re ready now.

You look up from your crouched position, the flowers you’ve picked lie fresh and pretty in your basket. You look to the dirt path where a man is running towards you. ‘What is a man doing here of all places?’ you think.

He comes to a stop once he sees you, hands on his knees as he gasps for breath. He looks young and beautiful, though his robes are askew and torn and his face glistens as sweat drips from his chin. You almost decide to ignore him and go back to your duties until you notice the red lines that peak from the uncovered parts of his torso. The cuts look painful. You hesitate, “Do you need some assistance?”

“Don’t mind me, fair maiden,” his breathing is still heavy as he speaks. He looks around, taking in his surroundings. ‘What is he looking for?’ you wonder. You can tell he is trying to hide his panic, but it comes through in his tense movements and jittery eyes.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?”

Four men on horse approach you. You notice they are soldiers by the gold plates that cover their body. You hold the flower basket a little tighter to your chest. The first soldier speaks, “Have you seen a man come through this way?”

“You’re the only men I’ve seen for days.”

You feel their lewd stares on you, your stomach churns from the unwanted attention. One soldier dismounts his horse and stalks closer to you. “A pretty little thing like you wouldn’t dare lie to us?” he questions.

“I swear on goddess Athena.” You stand still and look to the ground as he invades your space. The soldier brings a calloused hand to your chin to make you look at him, his companions snickering at your discomfort.

“For days? You must be lonely, poor sweet thing you are.” The other soldiers dismount and circle you. You try to keep your face neutral from the disgust you feel as their eyes rake over your body.

“It is as I said,” your eyes shift to the marble walls of the temple behind you. “I would not lie in Athena’s name, I am protected by her watch.” You emphasize your last words, keeping your limbs close and suppressing your instincts to fight and draw this encounter out any longer than need be.

The men look over to the temple and begin to move closer to the entrance. You follow after them, dropping your basket and letting the flowers scatter into the dirt in your haste.

“No men shall enter, unless you want to face the wrath of the goddess herself,” you yell from behind them. The men laugh. You find the courage to pull at the leader’s armour to cease his advancing. “You will be cursed if you go in there, sir!”

Taehyung’s eyes go wide as he hides underneath the blanket you’ve covered him in. He removes his hand from the temple’s wall, and brings his knees up and off the floor, trying to touch as little as possible of his surroundings.

The men scoff at your words, the leader shoves you away but does not advance any closer. You’ve taken up enough of their time, and they need to find this criminal before The Queen bestows her own kind of punishment upon them.

“Be careful, girl. There is a dangerous man fleeing prosecution, pray to your Goddess we find him before you do.” You find their warning quite ironic as you watch the leader kick your basket. You assume in an attempt to be intimidating, but in your opinion it makes him look more like a petulant child, your brow ticks in annoyance.

Only when they are completely out of your sight do you let go of the breath you were holding. You run into the temple, crashing into the stranger as he runs out.

“I’m sorry!” He exclaims, his hands grabbing onto you to keep you from falling. Electricity zips through you as you both break away stunned. You rub at your arms to take away your goosebumps. The stranger lowers the hand that clutched at his chest, his wide eyes looking at you in question.

“Is it true? A curse is the last thing I need right now!” he laments. You giggle. The soldiers called this man dangerous?

“The rules say no man is to enter, yes.” His horrified expression makes you laugh even more. “But...they are more like guidelines,” you assure him. “Enough temple priestesses have brought their fair share of men back and nothing too sinister has happened yet, by the gods.”

It does little to lessen his worry. He looks at you skeptically. “I thought Athena’s priestesses were supposed to stay virginal in honor of the goddess’s protection.”

“Oh,” you offer him a smile, “that is her protection. It is perception that protects us.”

You eye the man, his features are sharp, striking; almost intimidating; but his aura is quite soft. “...protects us from men. In this world there are very few true heroes, I’m afraid most only live inside songs.”

He looks at you in understanding. “My apologies, you had to deal with those soldiers alone. I couldn’t do anything to defend you.” He winces at the thought, “For you to have shielded me instead, I thank you.” He offers you a deep bow and you feel butterflies dance in your chest.

“Can I ask as to why you’re running?”

He looks to the direction he came, unable to meet your eyes. “Ahh, well...I am in poor favor with The Queen.”

Your eyes widen, you’ve heard rumors of her beauty even in the remoteness of your area, and even more of her kingdom’s hedonism. The man in front of you is truly beautiful. He could be one of her lovers, you think, he most definitely looks the part. His robes though now disheveled are of expensive fabric and show off his lean body, and the way he holds himself you can’t imagine him to be a common worker. “So, you and The Queen, I see...”

“Oh! It’s not what you think...I’m a mere poet. I sing to The Queen and her Court, but she suddenly wanted more of me than I am willing to offer. I-I rejected her.”

Your eyes widen again. “That was most unwise.”

He smiles, his eyes cast down. “I can bear the weight of my faults. I plan to leave to another province.”

“You’ll rather leave your home? But it is The Queen!”

“As you can see, there is punishment in denying The Queen of her desires.”

You’re astonished. “I can’t imagine being with her to be so horrible you’d choose to run instead, give up all you’ve acquired?”

“I rather give myself to someone for love.”

You feel your heartbeat quicken at his words, ‘so idealistic.’ You’ve never encountered an individual with such delicate presence, a trait you find most unconventional. A smile pulls at one of the corners of your mouth, “Aphrodite must favor you.”

Taehyung laughs, his eyes softening, “Thank you again, someone must favor me to put you in my path.” His warm dark eyes hold your gaze. “I mustn’t stay too long…”

“Yes, of course! Well then…” You falter in your farewell. He struggles with the decision to leave. Taehyung knows he must, The Queen’s soldiers could come riding through again at any moment, and he doesn’t want to think of the punishment they would bestow upon you if they learned of your lies, so why can’t he seem to let go of your company?

He notices the trampled flowers littered on the ground around you, the colorful petals lay beautiful and ruined, a fate he worries will become yours if he doesn’t make haste. He picks up an unbroken blossom. “Thank you again.” He places the flower in your palms, a warmth spreads over you through your fingertips as you hold your breath in reverence. His thumbs stroke your fingers gently, and then he nods at you one last time and moves to run again. You feel a pressure building in your throat, unready to bid him farewell, and you don’t understand why this man whom you’ve just met is affecting you so. His kindness and his gentleness makes your body yearn to learn more. What can you do, he’s a stranger and not yours to keep, you must let him go.

His flower stays cradled in your hands, you feel your chest tighten more and more with each step he takes that brings another stretch of distance between your bodies. Your limbs itch to move. What should you do? It is what you want to do that makes you so afraid. You silently ask Athena for guidance. It is only when he turns past the treeline and out of sight that you can’t take it any longer.

You run into the temple. You race to your small quarters, and gather anything you deem valuable, not very much. Pushing down the thoughts that tell you you’re acting crazed and without reason, you fasten your belongings to your body. You race out of the temple's entrance and crash once again into a body that jolts your nerve endings with an undeniable energy. You stare into his eyes once more, the man you saved. He looks down at you, eyes wide with surprise but full of mirth.

A horse carries you and Taehyung farther North. You travel in comfortable silence, as your hands rest snugly around his waist. After riding with him for so long, you are no longer shy to hold him, accustomed to being pressed up against his back. You listen to the steady rhythm of horse hooves against the earth. It is peaceful and you find yourself smiling against Taehyung’s back.

The bright lush green landscape turns dark and threatening as the two of you ride past an abandoned village. The wooden wreckage smolders still. You gasp at the sight, so many homes lost. Taehyung taps the horse’s body with his foot to quicken its step.

“Stop!” You yell at Taehyung once you notice a shift amongst the rubble. You jump off before he properly stops his stead, running towards the wreckage to confirm what you thought you had witnessed.

Taehyung runs after you, warning you to be careful. Once you reposition a large plank of wood, you gasp at what you see. There’s a bleeding old woman pinned underneath, still alive. You call for Taehyung’s help, the both of you pulling her as delicately as you can manage from beneath the rubble.

“I can’t believe you’re still alive, it’s a miracle by The Gods.” Taehyung holds the old woman’s hand as you run to the horse to fetch a canteen of water.

“Oh, a miracle yes,” the old woman coughs out, “fate has blessed me after much burden.”

You work to clean her skin of dried blood and ash, offering her water to drink. “What can we do to help?”

“My walking stick, it is most important.” Her eyes stay closed shut in pain, as she gestures to the place you’ve pulled her from. Taehyung rummages around until he pulls an item from the wreckage, an impressive staff decorated with gold markings and a large green gem adorned at its apex.

The old woman offers Taehyung her gratitude, feeling much more at ease she opens her eyes to look at the pair of you. You stare into the old woman’s clouded grey eyes in surprise.

“Thank you child, but hurry, the rain will wash the flames away, but will halt your journey for the day.” Taehyung looks upwards at the old woman’s words, white clouds are traveling across the bright clear blue sky.

You can’t leave the blind woman alone after everything she’s been through. “If it’s going to rain, please let us take you to the next village for shelter.” She nods and walks staff in hand towards Taehyung’s horse.

“Only a bit further, we will make it before it rains,” the old blind woman promises. Sounds of thunder echo faintly in the background. The sun is no longer out, hidden behind dark grey storm clouds. You shiver and rub the exposed skin of your arms for comfort next to Taehyung as the two of you walk next to his horse. He grasps your hand and pulls you closer to him. He radiates warmth. You never know how to react to his kind gestures. You look up at him and meet his gaze, sending him a shy smile. He rubs his thumb on your knuckles, smiling brightly back. If his intentions were to make you warm, he succeeded, your heart feels full.

“This is a farming community. They are a kind people who serve Demeter, the two of you are safe here,” At the old woman’s declarations you and Taehyung look at each other, exchanging unspoken words.

“This is where our paths must diverge. If you continue to follow this road, you’ll find sanctuary for the night, I promise.” Taehyung helps the old blind woman down from his horse. “Thank you again, children. I don’t have anything to offer you in return for your help, but I can give you some words of wisdom.” She smiles kindly at you both.

The old blind woman still holds Taehyung’s hand in hers. She turns his palm upward, her fingers trace the lines of his hand. You watch her curiously. “Ahh, your soul holds so much talent, you’ll find it’s both a blessing and a curse.” You giggle, Taehyung shoots you a look, his lips curving into a half smile. “Ahh, you know of it already. In the future, you’ll have a great choice to make, I can’t choose for you, but as someone who's lived many years and knows how dreadful and gray the world can become, my advice is to choose the path of love.”

“Always,” Taehyung’s eyes cast a look over to you and you feel shy once more under his gaze.

She brings her hand to Taehyung’s face to pat his cheek. “Dear child, too beautiful for your own good. It won’t be easy for you, for either of you, this path before you. Hermes wings have found your heels, you won’t find much rest in this life.” She looks sympathetic as her head turns towards you.

“Much like the universe has brought you to me, I see destiny is not a stranger.” She smiles at you knowingly. You hold your breath as she reaches for your hand, studying your palm alongside Taehyung’s. “Your souls...they have been linked together. I see the red string of fate wrapped tightly around you both.”

You find yourself wanting to believe her. Her words seem heartfelt and true, and you can’t deny her strong aura despite her fragile appearance. You catch Taehyung’s eyes again. Has he been looking at you this entire time? She continues, “This bond you have is quite unbreakable, not even death can cut what tethers you together.” She studies your hand more carefully, “Ahh, peculiar...”

“Do you see something worrisome?” you ask, concerned.

“It is nothing to worry dear, you have much love that surrounds you. Let yourself love. There will be those who will try to keep you apart, but take it from an old old woman, love is a stronger force than even the gods can imagine. It glitters brighter than gold and gives you riches greater than Kings. In the end, you’ll find a way.”

You think of her words all night. You look over to your companion, he sleeps peacefully next to you. Do you love him? Is this love? Is he your destiny? You pray to Athena for answers, but only more questions arise in your mind.

You think to the day you first met him, the memory bringing a smile to your face. You left with him, in the end. It was you who found the courage to ask him to take you with him, on the premise of wanting to see the world while moving to another temple. You expected him to let you down gently, you remember his hesitation still, but instead he had not refused you, and you have been traveling with him ever since. Being with Taehyung filled the holes of loneliness that punctured your existence before meeting. Your world had been small, consisting only within the temple’s walls. Now your world feels infinite, it’s thrilling and terrifying, and at the center of it all is Taehyung, gentle and kind and sincere in his affection.

---

You are jostled from your sleep. Taehyung pulls you gently from your bed, his lips placing tender kisses across your forehead as he pulls you to your feet. “I’m sorry, we have to leave again.”

This is not the first time you've had to run, or the second or third. So you pack the things you cannot part with and say goodbye to the rest.

Taehyung, the beautiful poet with a voice that can capture any audience's attention, has always been able to afford you both a roof and a meal. Taehyung’s performances become the talk of whatever acropolis you find yourself in, and his fame grows until his looks and voice catch the attention of someone too important to ignore. Fame is a wonderful thing until it becomes too much, too demanding, and all too quickly can Taehyung’s admirers turn into attackers, vilifying his every action. When that happens he decides to run, and you follow. You worry if it goes on like this you’ll have no more places left to run to.

You liked this place the most, it pangs your heart to lose your home again, but you know your true home is in Taehyung’s arms. You pack as many mementos of this place as you can carry, and hold the rest of your memories close in your heart.

---

“Like this,” you pull your bow back and look to the trees ahead where three pheasants sit perched. You choose the biggest bird and aim your arrow. You make sure Taehyung is studying your form and then you let the arrow go. The bird squawks sharply before falling to the ground, and the others scatter to the sky.

“See!” you laugh at Taehyung’s astonished face.

“How are you so much better at this than me?” The poet whines as you hand him back his bow and arrow. You laugh again. You and Taehyung have been learning to survive by yourselves through trial and error, more error than not. You’ve never had to hunt for food before, but you quickly found yourself skilled, and you think it’s quite fun. At least when you’re not starving, stomach already full from fresh berries Taehyung had picked for you to share. He had picked you flowers as well. They sit in your hair in an intricate pattern after you complained to him you couldn’t eat flowers. You slowly remove the arrow bag from around your neck, so as not to ruin the halo he so carefully crafted.

“I caught it, so you cook it,” you tease.

He brings your hand to his lips for a quick kiss. “That, my fair maiden, I can do!”

---

It is late and Taehyung has not arrived home. His performance should have been done hours ago. You try not to let your thoughts wander into the dark depths of your worst fears as you settle into a restless unease. Your home is quiet and still, too quiet. You keep your ears focused as you wander around the house.

It goes from quiet to chaos too quickly, you hear shouting in the distance. A hand grabs your mouth before you can scream, you start to kick but strong arms hold you tightly. Taehyung shushes you as he pulls you to the back entrance of your home.

You’re running into the woods with the poet, he pulls you to the ground and holds you beneath him. From the bushes you watch men with swords circle your house. You feel violated as you watch them enter your home. Crashes inside make you flinch in Taehyung's arms. “We’ll go back to fetch our things once they leave,” he shushes you.

The soft warm glow of your house becomes bright, light filling up the night sky as a fire breaks out and the men continue to destroy your home. Taehyung covers your mouth to stifle your cries and holds you close to him, whispering countless apologies. You can only whimper in his arms, your shoulders shake in grief as you watch everything you own go up in flames.

When you first came to this place, you and Taehyung stood out too much for the villagers' liking. You were strangers, you didn’t look like them, and they targeted you constantly for the pettiest of things. But this area was remote so you endured their hateful ways. It didn’t help matters when Taehyung, a much better singer than the locals before him, was offered an audience with the region’s King. Taehyung never made an appearance, letting other singers he befriended attend in his place, hoping to gain some favor with the locals, but it only angered the King. Feeling insulted, he killed the poets. And now, with enemies at both ends, and anger consuming the villagers, Ares wrath scorched your home to the ground.

You’re quiet next to Taehyung. Your feet ache from walking. No horse, no food in days. It’s nightfall and cold, you wear his cloak and shiver still. You walk beside the poet, but he feels oceans away. His usual bright eyes are dull and full of sorrow. You didn’t realize how accustomed you were to his touch until he had stopped. Your body aches to be in his arms, to hold his hand while you walk. You feel loneliness twist around you instead.

It is Taehyung who breaks the silence. He speaks softly, “There is a famous temple of Athena in this city, hopefully we can convince them to let you stay.”

The idea revolts you, pulling at the pit of your stomach. The thought of going back to your old ways, as if it would be a reprieve or something you missed, makes you nauseated.

“No.”

“I thought it would be enough...I-I was naive. I’m truly cursed. I can sing all about love, paint beautiful stories of love’s triumph, but when I cannot give you anything else but my devotion, it’s not enough. I can’t stand to watch you wither away in front of me. You deserve more.”

“The oracle said-”

“What kind of life is this for you?” He stops walking, his voice breaks in his anguish. “I-I’m sorry. I should have never taken you away from safety into this reckless existence. This should have been my burden alone.” Tears fall down his face as he shudders. You reach for him, cup his face in your hands. How can you make him see he’s all you want? He lets you wipe away his tears. You pull his head down to meet yours.

“What kind of life is this? The best life I’ve ever could have wished for. A life full of love. I’d trade everything I have for you.” You brush your lips against his, it stops his tears. His eyes fill with adoration, a blazing intensity that makes your heartbeat quicken.

“Stop this worrying, let’s go.” You grab his hand and pull him along. The silence hangs heavy in the air, the stillness of the night frightens you.

“Sing me a song please.”

“From now on I’ll only sing for you.” Taehyung says his words quietly, but his resolve thunders to the heavens, shaking the course of your lives.

The light of day shines through your open window, it illuminates the thin white fabric pulled over your head and wakes you. The white cloth flitters in the breeze of your bedroom and you catch a peak of the handsome man lying next to you. His dark warm eyes are already open as he watches you stretch your sleepiness away. He lifts his head, pulling the sheet higher, so he can get a better look at you, “Good morning, my beloved.”

Taehyung’s dark hair and tan skin against the glowing white backdrop of your bed sheets makes him look ethereal. You watch him in awe, “Good morning, dear husband.”

Your body feels heavy and rested. Your bare skin is warm against his and the sun heated sheet, the soft fabric pulls over your bodies, everything is so soft and warm.

Taehyung buries his head in your chest, smiling against your skin. “I love you.”

Your fingers play with the curls of his hair. “And I love you.”

Underneath the covers, you create your own little world, away from the responsibilities of your lives, the expectations of the day.

Taehyung runs his lips across your naked chest, kissing, licking, biting all over your body. You giggle at his playful teasing touches. “You’re perfection, so soft and pretty.” He captures your lips in a kiss, moving his mouth against yours slowly as his body rests between your legs. His hands find your waist and pull at your skin as he explores your mouth with his tongue, swallowing your moans.

Your legs wrap around his torso, you can feel him growing against your slick core. Taehyung's fingers find yours and he intertwines them together, pulling your arms above your head. He nibbles on the sensitive skin below your jaw.

“You smell so good,” he moans, “you taste so good.” His low baritone voice sends shivers down your body. You whimper, breathless from his caresses. He thrusts in slowly, rolling his body into you, slow and steady until you’re both feverish from mounting pleasure. “What do you want, my love?”

“Just you, please, I want all of you.”

He rolls you over so your body is on top of him. “You have me forever. Now show me how much you want me.” Your playful lover bites his lower lip, pulling on your hips to make you move against him. Your body moves up and down his length, Taehyung’s moans and devastating lustful looks spur you on to please him.

You roll your hips faster, so close to release. Taehyung notices your frenzied state and grabs your hips to hold you still, thrusting up into you instead. His hard length fills you up so deliciously. His grip on you is searing yet soft, you focus on his body below you, his tight muscles and golden skin. “I-I’m close.”

“Touch yourself for me.”

The room fills with sinful noises as your bodies converge again and again and you cry out in euphoria. Taehyung stills inside you as you reach your high, mesmerized by the way your body twist in pleasure in his arms.

Taehyung lays your trembling body down against the soft sheets of your bed, grinding his hips into you as you continue to pulse around him. “Eyes open, look at me my love.”

You struggle with his command, but hold his gaze as best you can, his physique shines with sweat and his hungry eyes roam over your spent body, the erotic way he looks at you ignites the desire in between your legs once again.

He’s so close to release. Taehyung quickens his pace, making you tighten around him, senses overloaded. You moan, encouraging him to keep going.

“You’ll let me fill you up? Have my baby?” His long fingers find your sensitive nub, applying pressure and making you cry out.

“Y-yes!” You can only feel blinding pleasure as Taehyung thrusts into you deeper.

“How beautiful you’ll be, glowing and pregnant with my baby growing inside of you.” He groans. Your stomach tightens as his cock swells, pressure filling you before you feel yourself snapping again. Taehyung’s own release following, your tightness too much for him to handle.

You hold him close to you as you both work to steady your breathing, “We have to start baking soon,” you softly remind him, “before the market opens.”

Taehyung cuddles closer to you, “It’s okay, they’ll wait for my bread, it is the best in the city.” He grins, kneading at your breasts with his large hands. You laugh, relaxing into his embrace.

“Okay okay, we’ll stay a bit longer.”

Your children gather around you in prayer. You take in a ragged breath. Your bedridden aging body feels heavy. Soft light begins to cloud the edges of your vision as you listen to the wistful voices of your sons and daughters shower you with love. Taehyung's fingers brush against your wrinkled digits.

“My beautiful wife, how I missed you.”

You call out his name. Your eldest daughter soothes you, brushing her hand over your forehead. You thought you would be afraid once teetering on the edge of your own mortality, but with him here, holding you again, fear is unable to reach you. You’re already so full of love.

Taehyung comes into your focus, still beautiful in his old age, still the gentle man you love, he places a feather light kiss on your temple. Relief washes through you, the currents pull the burdens on your soul away, and you feel light, floating between worlds.

“I’ve waited for you,” Taehyung’s deep voice fills your mind, “Are you ready to travel with me again?” You know your answer, innate as the love you felt when you first met him.

You take one final breath, letting go and following Taehyung again.

---

Your eyes flutter open. You’re lying face down on the hotel bed. As your eyes begin to focus, you are met with the singer’s face next to yours. Taehyung is lying on his back next to you, grinning from ear to ear, your fingers are still interlocked by your heads.

“What happened?” you whisper.

“I don’t know, I think we passed out, I woke up right before you opened your eyes.”

He looks at you, still beaming, a boxy smile plastered on his face. You try not to smile back. He shouldn’t be this happy!

“That wasn’t bad. You made it sound bad.” he pouts.

You hum, looking at your still intertwined fingers. You study the smooth skin of your hands, the wrinkles and veins you’d seen now only a fleeting memory. You feel tired.

Taehyung feels like he’s just woken up from a long dream. Memories of last night feel far away, more distant than memories presumably lived centuries ago. He focuses on the only constant, you.

“Do you regret it?”

You let out a deep exhale, you move your hand to trace his cheek, his nose, his eyebrow; he watches you quietly. You flick him on the forehead.

Taehyung yelps, looking quite betrayed by your actions. You smile, and his expression switches easily back to happiness. “It’s okay, you don’t have to admit I’m right,” he teases.

You let out a huff, “Doesn’t it bother you? It should bother you! Why is this happening...it’s exhausting...”

Taehyung wraps his arms around you and pulls you close to his body. “I don’t care why,” he mumbles into your hair. Your breath catches in your throat as he cuddles closer to you.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Your heart pounds. You try to stay calm. “No,” you whisper.

His arms tighten around your frame. His warmth envelopes you, it feels like there’s fire inside you, burning down all your apprehensions.

“So this is how it feels. I thought I understood Jungkook. But this is....” you feel his body vibrate as he laughs to himself. “It’s not something you can put into words, right? I understand what he means, about not wanting to let you go.”

Closing your eyes you can picture yourself being in a different place, a different land, another time, you let yourself relax into Taehyung’s embrace. You can feel his hands caress your body, his long fingers travel to the back of your neck and down your spine and the curve of your back.

“I know I’ve never hugged you, but it feels like I’ve done this a hundred times before. Like you belong with me.” His voice is low in your ears. You try to ignore how you feel, how true his words are, but you can't.

“Right? At least admit that to me, y/n.” He whispers. His fingers dig into your skin as he pulls you even closer.

“Hm?”

“You belong with me.”

“I-” A knock on your door makes you break away from him. Taehyung flops on his back, sighing. You open the door to the youngest and oldest members smiling at you.

“Good morning!” You internally wince at your unusually high voice. Jungkook looks over your shoulder, noticing movement inside your room. He sees Taehyung sitting cross legged on your bed, leaning back on his palms with a grin on his face. Jungkook’s doe eyes go wide as his head turns slowly over to the eldest, who then mirrors his expression. Their surprised faces would be comical to you if you didn’t feel responsible for their reactions.

Everyone’s silence is making your stomach twist into knots. You clear your throat. “I touched his hand, if that’s what you’re wondering.” Unable to meet their eyes, you feel the need to add, “That’s all that happened. So...okay, let’s go!”

---

Everyone is sitting in the penthouse, around the coffee table filled with plates piled high with different breakfast foods. Some are sitting on the floor, some on the couch with plates in their laps. Jin ushers you next to an open spot next to J-Hope and sits on your other side. Taehyung and Jungkook have been quietly talking behind you and find seats in the empty gaps.

“The food here is really good,” Hoseok says in between bites as Jin serves you a plate. He smiles brightly at you. Hoseok wishes he wasn't so apprehensive with you. He aches to get to know you, learn all your quirks, learn about your childhood and what makes you happy so he can shower you with more of it; and what makes you sad so he can make sure you never experience it again. But he's too scared, Hoseok feels too much guilt.

His hair is messy and sticking up in weird angles, you resist the urge to fix it. ‘Just keep your hands to yourself, y/n. He’s not your friend,’ you chant in your head. You look around at the men, cozy and warm in their group. You realize how much of an outsider you are.

“Here,” Jin places a triangle of sweet toast on your already overflowing plate. You eat quietly while the members talk to themselves and check their phones. It feels nice, like a big family dinner on the holidays. You watch Hoseok take a selfie with his phone, a minute later you feel your phone vibrate with a notification.

“You posted to twitter just now?” Hoseok notices the panic in your voice as you magnify the picture to make sure there’s no item or reflection that might incriminate you.

“Err yes, why?” he scoots closer to you to see what you’re doing.

“I just-didn’t think it was that easy.” You scroll quickly through your timeline now that you’ve made sure you’re safe, Jin and Hoseok both moving in your space to stare at your phone much to your dismay and you think it’s time to put it away after the third photo of Namjoon’s toned arms pop up on your feed.

After stuffing yourselves full, the time has come to address the elephant in the room. The members take turns reliving the moments of last night, and in Taehyung’s case this morning, explaining everything so the group could all remain on the same page.

Namjoon should have been upset, once Taehyung shocked the rest of the group by speaking, but being in the same predicament himself, he was not surprised to learn Taehyung sought you out, he had barely slept toying with the idea himself.

You don’t talk much, just confirm certain details. You noticed how the men glossed over the most tragic parts of your visions, and you don’t care to interject. You learned new things as well...

Jimin finding his way back to your farm, only to find it destroyed and you gone, and unable to live with himself after that. You can’t meet each other's eyes when you tell him your own version of events.

Jin wanted to propose, he had picked out a ring, a bright blue gem like the ocean.

Taehyung had convinced you he stopped singing as a bard because he grew to hate it, but he confessed, to your suspicion, that wasn’t the case at all. He promised you he never once regretted his decision.

Hoseok took the job as a DJ because when you were younger you were obsessed with your local station, swooning over the DJ's voice and always calling in to win contests for you and Hoseok. He always had an affinity for music, but mostly he did it for you, to impress you.

Yoongi almost didn’t admit he had never really left your side, how he never stopped protecting you. That had shocked you the most. Your heart screams to comfort him, to comfort all of them.

Jungkook excitedly tells you everything he had planned for your escape, he used his life’s savings to find you and him a new home far away. He tells you how if you both had succeeded you would have been so happy with him.

It felt weird. All these lives inside you itching to burst through, you didn’t feel like yourself anymore. You meet the idol’s eyes sitting next to you, and when he looks at you so tenderly, you wonder who he really sees.

“Yoongi’s life was the coolest.” The quiet rapper keeps his head down, only nodding in acknowledgement at Jimin’s comment.

“Well I liked mine,” Taehyung declares. “Which one was your favorite, y/n?”

“I’m not answering that,” you mutter, growing hot under the sudden attention.

“Hmm I don’t see a connection.” Namjoon hums. “Apart from y/n.”

“Should there be one?”

“I’m assuming nothing strange like this has ever happened to you before?” Namjoon turns to you. You shake your head. “Have you ever had dreams, um, of us?”

“No! I mean-what? No.” You pull the neck of Jungkook’s hoodie over your mouth to hide your embarrassment, with no intention on admitting anything. What does dreaming have to do with this?

Namjoon stays silent in thought. Should he tell the group now?

“I should probably go now.” It’s no longer morning after talking for so long. You have a life to go back to; chores, work. You hope being back in your home will make you feel more like the old you, before everything you thought you knew was turned upside down.

Jungkook stands up, “Why!”

“I have work in the morning? Not everyone is a famous world class musician,” You try to keep your tone light, but you’re bothered.

His lips press into a tight line. “I know, just…”

You have responsibilities, a job to go to tomorrow, you don’t want to entertain the wild fantasies arising in your mind at the way he looks at you so pleadingly to stay. “I can’t stay here all day.” You stand up as well, the members’ eyes dart back and forth between you and Jungkook, like they were watching fighters in a match.

“I don’t want you to leave.” Jungkook blurts out.

You close your eyes and rub at your temples. It’s becoming too hard, to keep pushing these feelings away, you cannot allow yourself to feel things for these men. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. What do you want from me?”

Jungkook speaks louder, “Do you not want to be with me?”

“I’m-that’s not-it’s not that simple. You don’t even know me! Do you want to be with me-”

“Yes.”

You let out an incredulous laugh and look around the room, but the men look starkly serious. You focus on the youngest again, raising your voice so everyone can hear you clearly. “I’m a nobody. You don’t know me. Name one thing you know about me other than my name...name my favorite color! If you can name my favorite color I’ll sta-”

Jungkook names your favorite color. His eyes piercing through you. Your breath catches in your throat.

‘How did he-wait...was it her favorite color too?’ Tears well up in your eyes. “...I’m not her.”

Jungkook winces at your words, “You’re right, I don’t know who you are right now. But you are...I know you are...the woman I fell in love with. What are you so afraid of?”

You look down at the ground to your feet. You can only shake your head at him and keep your mouth shut so you don’t start crying in front of them. You feel a hand wrap around yours and you already know who it is. You yank your hand away. If Yoongi is hurt, he doesn’t show it to you.

“I’m sorry, I know my life is difficult, that I’m a ‘famous musician,’ but isn’t it better than a poor stable worker? Can’t you see how meeting you again, this might be, maybe...fate?”

A pained laugh escapes your throat, letting go of the pressure you built up in your forced silence. “Oh my god. This is not happening.” Yes, maybe you can finally admit what happened was real, but what does that change? It’s not like you can run away with him in this life either, the entire world recognizes him now.

Your hands hold your head, your nails dig into your skin to concentrate on anything other than Jungkook’s continuing pleas. It’s just laughable to think this idol is begging you to stay with him. A sick thought invades your mind that maybe you’re doomed to repeat your transgressions. The memory of his bleeding body flashes in your mind, you’re not meant to be with them, how could you be? They’re the most famous singers in the world, yeah, you are afraid.

Jimin tries to calm down the youngest, “Kookie, you can’t force her to stay here…”

Jungkook is beside himself. He feels you slipping through his fingers again, away from him and even if it’s different now, it feels too sickeningly similar.

“Hyung please, you’ve been with non-idols, please talk to her...please!” Jungkook is crying, begging Jin.

A strangled sob escapes your throat at his cries. Hoseok rushes over to you, but you scramble away from his touch. You know you’ll break the second you let him comfort you.

Jin’s heart is breaking; for Jungkook, for you, for himself. He doesn’t know what to say, he’s just afraid as Jungkook of letting you go. Finally Namjoon decides to take control of the situation, the only one with a clear head. “Everyone leave. Now. Y/n deserves her space, and we still have four more days left in this city. Alright go!” The boys pull each other away, holding onto each other for strength, trusting their leader.

Yoongi pats a crying Jungkook on the back, “It’s okay, Joon will convince her.”

---

Your eyes hurt from crying, puffy and dark. You feel pathetic. Your head is pounding, you lean against the car window as you watch the blur of the city go past.

“Here.” Namjoon sits across from you, leaving the middle seat open. He hands you a cell phone.

You hold the sleek new model in your hand, “What is this?”

“It’s a hand phone,” the idol says teasingly.

You can’t help but let out a small laugh. “What is this for?”

“For you, to contact us.” Namjoon shrugs, “If you want to.” You sit in silence as his driver takes you home.

“You haven’t asked to touch my hand. Do you not want to?” You ask, sneaking a glance at the rapper.

“Of course I want to,” he speaks softly. “It’s all I’ve thought about since I saw you. But you’ve gone through a lot. I’ll let you decide if it’s something you want to do, and when you’re ready I’ll be here.”

You bite your lip. “For four more days.”

Namjoon smiles, his dimples on display. “Yes, I’m guessing you didn’t get tickets for the next city?”

“No, I wish. Those fanmeet tickets weren’t exactly cheap.”

Namjoon chuckles softly, “Ahh sorry.”

“Well, I did get a free breakfast with BTS, lucky me,” you hum. He nods, his eyes cast down. You hope he didn’t catch any bitterness in your tone, under any circumstance you would be dying of happiness.

You let the silence envelope you again, as you start to recognize the streets, you’re getting closer to home and to being left alone. You sigh, running your hands over your face, “Oh god, this is a mess.”

“I don’t think it is. I think there’s a reason for everything. And I think there’s a reason why this happened to you. To all of us.”

“What could that reason be?” You ask him genuinely, maybe the genius idol sees something you don’t.

“I don’t know. I do know it’s lonely being an idol. It’s hard to love, to find someone to love you and not break under the constant pressure.”

“I don’t know if I can be that person.”

“Well to me, it sounds like you’ve already been that person.” You want to scoff, but the sincere look in his eyes makes you stop. The GPS signals your arrival home.

The air is heavy as you gather up the strength to leave, “I will message you later, I promise. Just give me some time.”

You watch the expensive van leave your entrance. You couldn’t see through the dark tinted windows, but you had a feeling the idol was watching you, so you held yourself together and waved goodbye.

---

You know you should have just gone inside your home, but you had something to do first, it was driving you mad not knowing. So now you stand in front of a door that’s not your own still in clothes that are not your own. You send a text of your arrival and knock.

“Hi!” You pretend you aren’t exhausted, “I just have to try something-”

He looks at you dumbfounded as you grab his hand and start shaking it. Nothing. ‘Of course, just wonderful.’ You switch to two hands, shaking more forcefully.

“What’s going on...” his voice is shaky from the intense movements of your greeting. ‘Why is nothing happening, why is it only them, Ugh, why!’

“Earth to y/n...” why why why why.

He grabs your arms to stop your movements “Hey, are you okay? You never responded to my calls, I was worried.”

“I’m sorry,” you look into his concerned eyes. It feels like eons ago, whatever budding feelings you had for him. Why.

“Do you want to come in?”

“No, I better go.”

“You came all the way over here and you don’t want to tell me how last night went? You meet BTS and now you’re acting all crazy! You didn’t decide to leave me for one of them, did you?” your friend jokes.

“Ah ha aha…”

He raises his eyebrow at you. “I have work tomorrow...I just wanted to see you.” It’s the truth, you’re not lying. “I’m sorry for not responding last night. I’ll see you later?”

He gives you a kiss goodbye. ‘Oh no.’ It all feels so wrong.

---

The first day, you send Jungkook an apology. He sends you a ton of voice memos and selfies, just happy to talk to you again. You respond with light replies, trying not to dig your hole any deeper.

The second day, that night you break down. You send all the boys a simple “hi”. Yoongi, Jin, Taehyung, Jungkook, and Namjoon all respond. They send messages about their day. Jin sends you a picture of his food. Yoongi says he misses you. Against your better judgement you tell him you miss him too. Suspiciously, after your reply Jungkook and Taehyung message that they miss you seconds apart from one another. You tell them you miss them too, when Taehyung says he wants to see you, you’re too scared to respond.

The third day you stay busy with work. Hoseok sends you a picture of the sunset, his first message to you, nothing else. You wait until the night comes and send a picture of the moon from your window, and ‘Goodnight. Sweet dreams.’

The fourth day the pressure becomes too much. You hover over the call button all day but you can’t do it. By dinner time, you get a call from Jungkook. You try to swallow down the tears you’ve cried all day and sound cheerful when you answer.

“I just wanted to call before we get on the plane,” he says.

‘It’s too late. No.’ you think. “I’m sorry, tell Namjoon I’m so sorry. I should have seen him before you all left, I should have...”

“Don’t worry y/n. No one blames you.”

“That doesn’t mean what I did was okay. I wanted to see you all again.”

“You did?” The way his voice becomes more cheerful tugs at your heart. “You can make it up to us by talking more. Can I video chat with you later?”

“Okay.”

“Okay, got to go...Bye Beautiful.” He sounds like he’s in a much better mood, you can hear the teasing lilt to his words.

Weeks go by. You keep your promise. It’s easier communicating through the screen of your phone. You can imagine them to be online friends, people who are not famous. Some conversations stay light, some become deeper. They pry information from your life, learning more and more about you, and you feel yourself getting attached to their morning greetings and late night calls. Meanwhile, with family and friends you try to act like everything is normal, keeping this weird new world hidden, but you’re still constantly haunted by your memories with them. Your past lives play through your mind all day long and replace your dreams. Everything else felt so wrong now, so not you anymore, so gray. You feel like a bad friend, a bad daughter, a cheater.

---

Namjoon wakes up, groaning, his body still heavy from sleep. He quickly changes into a pair of slacks and a button down shirt. He chooses a forest green vest to wear, like the plants in his room. He runs pomade in his hair before heading downstairs to get ready for the morning.

He unlocks the door to his bookstore, before he can turn around the door opens with a loud ding. You walk in and make a beeline to the center table. Namjoon laughs, “Back so soon?”

“Of course, I’m so bored! My crops won’t be harvestable for another couple of months. Any other recommendations? I loved your last one.” You smile brightly at the bookstore owner, he’s always so kind to you and doesn’t make you feel like an outsider when you visit. If you could, you would spend all day in his store, talking about the latest novels and picking each other's brains. “Before I forget! For you...” You hand him two jars of homemade jam.

You're his favorite customer. And if Namjoon is being honest, he has a crush on you. He pulls a book from high above a shelf, a pristine copy. “This one, it should keep you busy.” Your eyes sparkle as you take in the large leather bound novel, gold letters adorning it’s spine. “How much?”

“Don’t worry, this one time I’ll take jam as payment.”

“No, that was a present,” you pout.

“Well, then this is a present for you.”

“Sir, if you don’t let me pay, I will throw a fit! I need you to stay in business.” It’s always like this with him, you’ll be damned if he doesn’t let you show him how much you appreciate him.

Namjoon laughs, “Alright alright. Then promise me you’ll come visit as soon as you finish.”

You nod, holding your new purchase close to your heart. He watches you leave, his eyes lingering on your body. You hold onto his book like a prized trophy. It’s another thing he loves about you, the way you treat things with so much care. His eyes still linger on you as you stand outside his shop. He sees a stranger run into you, you stumble back and almost fall, he rushes to the door to help you but stops in his tracks as the man's face comes into focus. “Jimin?”

Namjoon wakes up startled. He runs his hands through his hair, disturbed at what he saw. He’s covered in sweat, inside the cold room of his bedroom. Every night he’s had dreams of you, but this one was different. Should he go talk to someone about it? Who would believe him? He feels like every day he’s slowly getting closer to losing his mind. Today is going to be a long day full of press junkets. He rubs at his eyes trying to forget what he saw, what he felt.

---

Today you decide to call Namjoon. Usually, you’ll wait until one of the members decides to call you, but you had to talk to him before you lost your nerve. He picks up on the second ring. “Hey, I can’t talk for that long, is everything okay?” you can hear how busy it is in the background.

“No it’s my fault! I’m sorry, I’m an idiot, of course you would be busy. Call me when you’re free.”

“No! I have some time, we can talk.” You hear him shuffling to a quieter location.

Are you going to regret this? You take a deep breath. “I want to see you again. I-I don’t want to forget about what happened and go back to my life like everything is normal when it's not. You were right. I’m sorry...I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it.” You wait for Namjoon’s response, the silence fills you with anxiety. You would completely understand if he brushes you off now.

“I’ll figure something out. Okay y/n?”

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you soon.”

“See you.”

That night Namjoon sends you a series of text messages with instructions. Your eyes go wide over the new information. You look around your home, you know you should feel some sadness, but only excitement bubbles inside you. ‘I guess this is it.’ How are you going to explain this to your family and friends, to your boyfriend? A special internship in South Korea, you guess is how you’ll start.

---Three Months Later---

Namjoon splashes cold water on his face, he looks up into his bathroom mirror and blinks at his reflection. Namjoon’s eyes are not his.

Namjoon wakes up yelling. He falls back into bed, catching his breath. He checks the time. You should be on the plane right now. The idol rapper has always appreciated the wealth he’s accumulated over the years, but he feels especially grateful in this moment, now that he has found himself in a position of power large enough to secure you with a translation job within his own company.

---

A man holds a sign with your name on it. You walk towards him, your suitcase ticking on the airport concrete as it rolls on the ground behind you. You spent the last three months preparing for this, studying over language books every night and saying goodbye to family and friends. Your parents didn’t understand your sudden change of career, but you promised them the pay was better and it wouldn’t be forever. Your boyfriend was not so understanding, especially when you wouldn’t give him any details as to why you’re leaving the county. You and him weren’t even that serious to begin with but the breakup was messy.

You followed the driver’s instructions once he dropped you off in front of a very posh looking complex, entering key codes, up the elevator, down the hall, until you stood in front of the correct numbered door. You use the key he gave you to unlock the large door and walk into a massive apartment. Every member is already inside, waiting for you. You feel relief wash over you, you can’t help but smile at the group. They cheer at your arrival, you notice balloons and a makeshift welcome sign. The mood is definitely much more relaxed from the last time you all gathered together.

“Is this your place?” You ask as Jungkook takes your suitcase.

“No, this is your apartment.”

Your eyes go wide, “This is way too big!”

Taehyung jumps up and gives you a hug. The months you talked made you feel much more comfortable around them, but you still weren’t prepared for the rush of emotions that filled you once in his embrace again.

“It’s the smallest unit in this building,” Yoongi lets you know.

“And I’m guessing I can’t go to another building.”

“Our dorm is in this one,” The youngest member explains.

“How…” You take a deep breath, eyeing Jungkook up and down, “...convenient.” You take a seat with them on the ridiculously huge couch, next to Yoongi and Jin.

You sigh, stretching your sore jet lagged muscles. “Need to go to the bathroom?” Yoongi whispers at you teasingly.

You snort, his words taking you out of your worries. “Funny,” you mutter.

The eldest helps you fill out a stack of forms for your employment while the rest set plates of takeout on the living room table. You eat your first meal in Korea together. Sitting together, laughing together, you feel better than you have in months. It’s that feeling you get when you’ve finally completed a puzzle, placing the last piece in its place. You feel complete.

Taehyung’s words pull you from your thoughts.

“So y/n, when are you gonna hold Joon’s hand?”

“Oh, um…”

“You came all the way to Korea for him, right!” Taehyung teases.

“She doesn’t have to...” Namjoon murmurs.

“Oh c’mon! You can’t tell me you haven’t been going crazy waiting!”

“Yeah, I agree with Tae!” Jimin laughs.

“Do it!” Jungkook cheers.

“Do it! Do it! Do it!” The youngest members are chanting at the pair of you. You feel the heat rise in your face. You had planned on it, you wanted to find a way to get Namjoon alone, but now with all the attention on you, you feel apprehensive. You look over to Namjoon who looks equally as embarrassed. ‘I don’t want to do this,’ the thought screams in your head.

It has been months, Namjoon has waited for this moment. Now that he’s being put on the spot, he’s apprehensive. Ever since his bandmates touched you, they have acted differently, it might not be noticeable to anyone around them, but Namjoon noticed. Would he change too? Before he can yell at his bandmates, you stand up and walk over to his seat. “They aren’t going to stop,” You whisper, holding out your hand. He sighs and stands up.

“So?” Jin asks when he notices the lack of reaction from both of you as you grip each other's hands.

“Um, nothing is happening.” You stare at the rapper, but his attention is on the place where your hands meet, brows furrowed in disbelief.

“This doesn’t make sense..” He starts shaking your hand up and down as if that might help, it reminds you of the night he dropped you off, and you know exactly how he feels.

“Maybe it’s because I’m jet lagged or something? We could try again later...” you try to soothe the rapper but you can tell he is growing more and more upset with each passing moment, and your arm feels like it's going to dislodge from your shoulder the more he shakes.

The members have all gone silent.

“Maybe you don’t have a past life together?” Hoseok places his hand on Namjoon’s shoulder to stop his movements. No one expected this.

“No, that’s not-we have to-I know it!” Namjoon tries to stay calm but his voice is full of panic.

“Maybe it had something to do with that time, the planets aligning or something?” Jimin says. Is this your fault? Because you were too scared. What have you done? You’re rethinking everything now, you shouldn’t have come here.

“No.” Namjoon is right, he knows it, “that’s not it...” It doesn’t make sense, he knows there’s a connection between you and him. He lets the confession tumble out of his mouth before he can properly think. “Your name, I knew it! How would I know your name?”

You look at him confused, “What do you mean?”

Namjoon bites his tongue. He lets go of you. He blinks his eyes to get rid of tears threatening to spill. The mood is gone and everyone is silent. You feel horrible. Somehow this is your fault, you know it.

“Joon...” The eldest member calls out to him.

“I-I need some air.” Namjoon breaks away from the group.

“Wait!”

---

OOOOooo you had a whole ass boyfriend and you went and tongued Yoongi, scandalous. Looks like poor Joonie got the spiritual cockblock. Should I explain myself lol or do you like drawing your own conclusions?

Oh! Fun fact, the two sentences were this: Your eyes flutter open, you’re lying face down on the hotel bed. Taehyung is lying on his back next to you, grinning from ear to ear, your fingers are still interlocked by your heads. That’s what I had to go on T_T hah. Anyways let me know what you think <3

[alaskasmonsters]

Chapped lips | Shigaraki Tomura

after that night, the night he'd first reached out for your hand, you and shigaraki had gotten a lot closer, even if that only meant you were holding hands a lot. or did it?

part 1

pairing: shigaraki tomura x gn!reader

w.c: 2.651

warnings: head empty just tooth-rotting fluff, also shigs being insecure about his skin, he’s still touch-starved :c

a.n: @hufflefluffslytherin​ asked for a part two and i really really really adore touch-starved shigaraki (and writing him) so i just had to comply!🥰🥰 (also if you’ve never seen fanart of shigaraki with his hair tied back i am so sorry, but you’ve been deprived)

Holding hands had become somehow normal between Tomura and you, although it usually ended up being in the privacy of his room. If Kurogiri noticed how close you’d gotten after he sent you to his room that one time he didn’t mention it. He’d only smile gently at you when you caught his...floating orbs. You weren’t sure if you could call it a smile when the guy didn’t have a mouth, or eyes….or a face. It was more like a vibe that you got from him.

The rest of the league had noticed the two of you had gotten closer, too. They were not stupid, after all. Well, they were all idiots, but they were smart idiots. You’d spent a lot more time at their lair now in consequence of you spending more time with Tomura. And of course every one of them had to give their two cents to the situation.

Toga would beam at you, teeth flashing and eyes sparkling with excitement, whenever the both of you were in the same room. When Tomura wasn’t present the girl would dreamily stare into the air, planning your wedding in detail. It was cute, almost endearing, if it wasn’t so embarrassing. You’d turn red as a beat and Toga would giggle at your flustered state.

Dabi turned to relentless teasing, constantly making jokes, some of which were so beyond inappropriate you’d loved to wash his mouth and your memory out with soap.

Compress was surprisingly soft on you, never once mentioning the new undetermined relationship between you and the boss, although you were certain he sent you winks from beneath that mask of his.

Spinner was being a little shit like always.

Tomura and you had grown closer in the process of your occurring hand holding sessions. Often you just sat next to him on the bed (yes, you’d gotten the privilege of being allowed on there), you would scroll through your various social media while Tomura explored the skin of your arms and your hands with his fingers.

You would have never expected he could be so...soft...quiet...calm...innocent. Just silently sitting next to you, staring at the ceiling or somewhere else (anything but you) while he let his fingers gently glide over your hands until you’d end up with your fingers intertwined.

He didn’t like talking a lot, you realized. Still private, still unrelentless.

It had taken weeks between then and now before you’d even gotten to this point. A point where Tomura felt comfortable enough to request your touch whenever he felt like it. Sometimes he just sent you the blank faced cat emoji and you knew that your presence was requested. You didn’t comment on it, just silently complied, sitting next to him in silence until he initiated the contact.

You knew he was still in disbelief about your nonchalance whenever he did reach out to touch you. He always did it so carefully, barely gracing your skin. As if he wanted to leave you enough time to react and pull back.

It was endearing.

Sometimes he tested you, brushing his fingers over parts of your upper arms, shoulder, leg, stomach, watching you out of calculating eyes, expecting, awaiting you to flinch back. You never did. Like you said, you didn't have it in you to mistrust Shigaraki in that way. All remaining resolve had crumbled the moment he’d first reached out for your hand.

When you knocked on his door that night, you were already buzzing with excitement, clenching the little item in your palms, something you’d brought for Tomura. You didn’t wait for his answer, already opening the door and slipping a moment later since he had sent the cat emoji earlier.

Tomura was sitting on his bed, game controller in his hand, the screen of his tv showing a shooter game was the only light that illuminated the room.

You had quickly realized Tomura enjoyed quiet and dark places.

He didn't look up, just glanced at you from the corner of his eyes, as you approached him and sat down next to him, already smiling. The item you brought was securely hidden in your palms.

The man hummed in greeting, scooting closer until your legs were touching slightly, barely brushing.

That was another thing you had noticed about him. Tomura wasn’t only enamored by holding your hand, but he craved the simplest of touches. It didn’t come as a surprise to you, considering most of his life everyone had been avoidant of him. You had figured he must be incredibly touch-starved, searching your warmth now that you’d willingly given it to him already, taking whatever he’d get.

It was cute.

You watched him play for a little while, supporting your weight on your hands as you leaned back onto your palms. But quickly your attention shifted, your eyes settling on the side of Shigafaki’s face. Eyes wandering from the scars around his eyes, to his dry lips and then to the sensitive skin on his neck...you could imagine it must hurt a lot.

You were a little familiar with impulsive behaviour like that, you’d bitten your fingernails for years, picked at the skin around them, too. It was a bad habit, one fueled by stress. Something you sometimes went back to whenever it would get too much. But you knew that was hardly comparable.

“Why are you staring at me?”

You were pulled from your thoughts by his hoarse voice, soft despite the scratchiness of it. You didn’t reply immediately, watching the ways the shadows danced across his features.

“Does it hurt?”

You didn’t have to point out what exactly you meant, he understood immediately.

“I’m used to it,” his answer was curt and you noticed how he lowered his head to let more of his hair fall into his face.

You hummed, not mentioned how tragic that truly was or how badly you wanted to hug him. He probably didn’t want your sympathy, perhaps even mistake it for pity.

You sat up instead, smiling widely in hope to ease the sullen mood as you raised your hand to finally uncover what you’ve been hiding all along.

“I’ve brought something,” you declared proudly.

Tomura glanced at the little item you held up to his face, eyes narrowing to read the name of the product. When he recognized what it was, he glanced up at your face, eyebrows furrowed in scepticism.

“Don’t tell me you want me to put that on my face.”

You laughed at the look of disgust in his eyes.

“It’s just ointment, don’t be so dramatic.”

He didn’t seem all too convinced by your words, face settled into a scowl.

“It’s really good, if you want to know my expert opinion,” you ignored the amused snort, “It’s moisturizing and helps with itches as well.”

He glanced at the object again, not very enthusiastic about the idea of it, you noticed, his face still purposefully lowered, his red eyes peeking out from beneath his white strands.

You cocked your head to the side.

“I could heal some of it, too, if it bothers you,” you suggested, although you knew you could really only do something against the recently damaged skin, nothing against the several small scars collected at the corner of his eyes or the base of his neck.

“Why, does it bother you?” he murmured, a sudden edge to his voice.

The grip around the game controller had tightened, although his pinkies were still skillfully spread to avoid disintegrating the piece of plastic.

“No,” you replied sternly.

Tomura hesitated for a moment, eyes darting between the tub of ointment and your face a few times before he made a choice. He paused the game and carefully placed the controller on the nightstand.

“Fine,” he mumbled, head angles towards you, “You can put that shit on me.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, itching to ask him to repeat himself, because you weren’t sure if you understood him correctly, if he really just agreed you could put ointment on his face. You. Not him, you.

But then he turned, until he was facing you completely, his legs crossed, knees bumping against the side of your legs and he watched you expectantly. You turned, too, positioning yourself so you were cross-legged as well and directly in front of him, trying to ignore the tingling in your stomach at being so intensely stared at by Tomura. You inched closer, bumping your knees more and the man leaned forward, almost expectantly, awaiting.

You stopped him with a raise of your hand and Tomura halted in his movements, squinting at the small object that you were now holding into his face. His forehead scrunched up at the sight of the hair tie in between your fingers and he gave you a sceptical look.

“Tie your hair back, Tomura.”

He grumbled, but complied to your request, lazily binding his hair together. A few strands fell out and back into his face and you softly pushed them behind his ears, not commenting on the way Tomura stilled at your touch.

Opening the tub of ointment, you put some of the substance on your fingers, glancing up at the man in front of you for approval. He was already looking at you with awaiting eyes.

Okay, if he didn’t make it weird you shouldn’t make it weird either.

You reached out to hold his face in place, cupping his left cheek gently. Tomura closed his eyes at your touch, leaning into your hand a little. You smiled slightly, raising your fingers with the ointment to the area around his eyes and started to carefully apply it to the skin.

The skin was rough under the pads of your fingers as you moved them over his face. He let you work in silence, the only sounds coming from him was the occasional hum whenever the cool ointment touched a specific sensitive area.

You moved on to the other side quickly, switching hands to apply the ointment with your left hand and hold Shigaraki’s face with your right, instead, to accommodate.

“Do you feel a difference?”, you asked softly, massaging the substance into his cheek.

He hummed.

“It’s nice.”

You smiled softly.

“Is it itching?”

He shook his head.

You moved on to his neck, occasionally glancing up at his face. It was relaxed, his eyes still closed, the corners of his lips slack. You smiled at the smoothened out features, your eyes getting stuck on the way down until you were staring at his lips. Dry and chapped but still kissable.

You froze in your movements.

Hold on, what.

Tomura had noticed you had stopped moving and cracked his eyes open, watching the expression on your face with interest.

“Why are you staring at me?”

You shook your head, desperately fighting the blush on your cheeks.

“Just thought you might wanna put lip balm on as well,” you replied calmly.

Good save.

The man scrunched up his face.

“You’ve brought that, too?”

You shrugged, spreading the last bit of ointment across his neck before you pulled back, massaging the leftovers of the substance into your hands.

“Well, i’ve got some with me,” you suggested, pulling it out of the back pocket of your pants.

Shigaraki eyed it suspiciously, raising his hand towards his neck before he halted in his movement, as he remembered your treatment, before he let it sink back into his lap.

“Don’t look so sceptical. It’s just a chapstick,” you laughed at the way he scrunched up his face in disgust.

To demonstrate you opened up the cap and rolled it up. Lifting it up to emphasize the plainness of your action before putting the lip balm on your lips. Smacking them together when you were done, presenting them with a grin.

Tomura looked thoughtful before he suddenly started smirking, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he gave a nod of approval. You frowned in confusion but didn’t get the chance to ask him what he was being so cocky about before he suddenly leaned in and caught your lips gently between his.

Despite the tenderness behind his touch you felt like the air was just punched out of your lungs. You were completely frozen against him, not moving, not knowing how to move. The line connecting your brains and limbs, the one that was supposed to exchange signals had been cut off the second Tomura’s mouth had touched yours. The man’s lips moved against yours just before he pulled back again.

You blinked up at him, mouth agape in shock as a warmth, a burning heat, spread through your skin, your face turning red.

He watched you in amusement before he smacked his lips together, loudly, a wide grin spreading over his features when he saw your eyes widen in shock.

“Like this?” he asked innocently.

You choked on your spit at the boldness of...literally everything.

“You! I...” you stuttered helplessly.

He chuckled slightly, strands of his bangs falling back into his eyes, which made him look even better than before. You huffed in mock offence.

“I can’t believe you, Tomura,” you grumbled, playfully hitting his knee as you tried to calm down your fluttering heartbeat.

The man just cocked his head at you, calculating eyes trained on your features. His stare was so intense you felt your face heat up again, just as you had started to calm down again.

He chuckled slightly, slowly leaning forward again, which led you to stop breathing for a second or two...or longer. He came to a halt right before your lips would have touched again, innocently glancing up at you through his lashes.

“Why? Do you want to kiss me?” His voice was deep and alluring.

You didn’t answer, the words got caught in your throat, the trust in your own voice vanished.

How could he turn from an innocent touch-starved gamer boy into this in a matter of seconds? It didn’t seem very fair to you. Especially when you were the one on the receiving end of this behaviour. Worse of all, Tomura seemed to enjoy your sudden speechlessness greatly, eyes drilling into yours as he inched even closer, the look in his eyes dared you to make a move.

He was close enough so you could feel his hot breath on your lips, so close the fruity smell of the ointment (you’d chosen a peach scent) assaulted your nose. All you could think was “Fuck it.” and throw caution out of the window.

You closed the remaining distance, planting your mouth on his and gained a satisfied hum in response. You smiled at the reaction, grabbing his face and pulling him more into you.

Tomura gave into your touch with ease, leaning in even more, searching your touch. He held your wrist, his pinky spread.

His lips were chapped and felt rough against yours, but you didn’t mind, not even a little bit. The kiss was heated, both of you getting more passionate as you deepened the kiss, the feeling indescribable. Your whole skin was tingling, your brain surely turned into mush.

Tomura wasn’t allowed to be this good at kissing, you thought. Did he kiss someone before or was this his first kiss? It couldn’t be...or?

The two of you parted when you ran out of air, both of you breathing heavily into the small space you’ve left between you. Tomura squeezed your wrist and chuckled breathlessly, shaking his head in disbelief as he stared you down. His eyes were sparkling with an emotion you couldn’t quite pin down but knew enough about for you to feel a little dizzy being looked at with.

“You really are crazy, you know that,” he whispered, a tone close to astonishment in his voice.

You just smiled, thumb brushing over the warm skin of his cheek.

Crazy for you, Tomura.

Taglist: @crystal-lilac​  @hufflefluffslytherin​  @duf3h6237​  @chucky-26o1​