#anyway I don’t think there’s a right or wrong answer | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

animereaderinsertwriter · 3 days ago

Text

part one - two - three - four -five

i saw you in a dream (bucky barnes x reader)

tags/warnings: plot with porn, fluff, a little angst, there is some mild amnesia, major plot twist, first person (bucky's) pov, inspired by this song

blurb: In this life and every life; waking and dreaming; this I swear.

These are the words inscribed on Bucky's wedding ring. A wedding ring that he doesn't remember ever having. It's not a vow he made-- not that he remembers, anyway-- but it might just be one that he decides to keep anyway.

ao3 here

The sunlight is warm on my skin. It’s morning— late morning, by the angle of the sunlight, but still morning— and I feel my lover’s hand brush the hair from my face. My eyes are not yet open, but I can feel her gaze, her breath, even her smile behind the darkness of my closed eyelids. The mattress dips with her heated weight next to me, a familiar feeling that warms me from the inside out.

“Sergeant Barnes,” she lilts softly, her smile dancing in the sound of her words. “It’s time for breakfast. If you’d like to be up sometime before noon, now’s your chance.”

There’s only one thing that bothers me.

It shouldn’t be morning. It should be afternoon at the earliest. Last I remember, I was fighting— what’s new? I’m always fighting— and it was important this time. It was a fight for not only our lives but every life, an earth-shattering, world-ending battle for the future of humanity. I should be there fighting still.

And besides, I have no lover. I don’t even know what gave me the idea that I did.

I know enough of espionage to know when something is too good to be true. So, instead of revealing my wakefulness, I lie very still. I mimic the deep breathing of sleep and wait for her next move.

“Bucky,” she beckons, her hand on my chest. “Bucky, I know you’re awake. Those breathing tricks don’t work on me anymore, you know that.”

Panic flares in my chest, but I force myself to stay still. How? I think. How does she know?

Her hand is warm against my chest, right over my heart. My overactive imagination envisions that warm hand burrowing, boring a hole through my chest plate and into my heart, crushing it in her grip—

“Oh well,” she sighs, her voice full of Loki’s own mischief. “I guess I’ll have to persuade you that waking is better than dreaming.”

Her hand moves. It travels down the center of my chest— my bare chest, I notice— her fingers lightly caressing through the hair at my stomach, travelling lower and lower until—

I snatch her hand away just before she reaches the waistband of my boxers. My eyes snap open, and with the silence of an assassin, I roll on top of her, capturing both of her hands at the wrist and pinning her legs with my own. She giggles— giggles!— the whole while, right up until the moment she sees my face. Trapped beneath me with nowhere to go, she stares up at me, smiling at first, then wide-eyed and sober.

“Bucky? Honey?”

There is fear in her voice. It lands sourly on my ears, and I foolishly want to see her smiling again. I shake my head, trying to clear it.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, and I’m shocked to note that the fear I’d heard is gone, replaced by a soft concern that’s echoed in the softening of her eyes.

“Who are you?” I demand.

“What? What do you mean, who am I?”

I tighten my grip on her wrists and force them to the bed.

“Answer the question.”

“Bucky, you’re scaring me,” she says, and her hands begin to tremble.

“I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if you don’t tell me who the hell you are.”

Her expression hardens.

“I,” she says with surprising indignation, “am your wife. And I’m starting to get real goddamn offended that my husband is threatening me in our marriage bed. I suggest you get a grip, James Buchanan Barnes, before I start to take it personal.”

I blink owlishly at her.

Wife?

Her hands are still shaking, but I can tell she’s getting angrier by the second. Intellectually, I know that I have her pinned and that there’s no way she can hurt me. Emotionally? I feel about thirty seconds away from experiencing a category four storm of righteous wifely fury that I know I shouldn’t fear, but fear anyway.

“Well?” she demands. “Are you going to let me up so we can talk this through like adults or are you going to continue trying to assault me?”

I don’t release her immediately, but I do take a look around me. The bedroom is neatly organized and done up in shades of slate blue and wheat gold. The big window to my right is open, allowing the breeze to tango with the sheer white and gold curtains that hand from a sturdy gold rod. On the walls are photos of my friends— Steve, Shuri, T’challa, and others— and on the nightstand next to the bed, there is a photo of a bride and a groom holding hands in front of a place I recognize. It is a secluded place along a Wakandan lakeside, with grass so green it looks like shattered emeralds and water so blue that it seems only melted, watery sky.

That place— it is my favorite place in all the wide world. If I were ever to be married anywhere, that would be the place I would choose to be married at.

The woman beneath me— my wife— follows my gaze, and I can feel her muscles relax, softening in my grip.

“Wakanda,” she murmurs. “Do you remember that, our wedding day? The grass stains on my dress, the way Steve cried and T’challa got so drunk that he tripped over his own feet at the reception while trying to Cupid Shuffle? Surely you do— Tony Stark laughed so hard he threw up.”

“No,” I tell her truthfully before I can think to stop myself. “What’s a Cupid Shuffle?”

I look back down at her, and her expression goes all pinched.

“I think we might better call Steve,” she says gently, brows creased in concern. “You love the Cupid Shuffle.”

***

According to Steve, I do not love the Cupid shuffle. Quite the opposite, in fact. I detest the song so much that my wife— who I still don’t remember— had apparently been trying to shock me out of my state of amnesia by claiming I did. When that didn’t work, she brought me here, to S.W.O.R.D.’s headquarters— whatever the fuck that is.

Out of curiosity, I ask Steve to show me this Cupid Shuffle, and he’s absolutely right. I hate the song, and the dance looks stupid. The idea of T’challa falling over trying to do it is so cringe that my bones feel nauseous just thinking about it.

“He did, though,” Steve reiterates, the shit-eating grin on his face no less bright for the ugly blue fluorescent lighting of the infirmary. He just loves it when he knows a reference before I do. “The night you were married, we were all so happy that nothing was embarrassing. Maybe I’m a sap, but… it felt a little like magic.”

Married. So even Steve seems to think I am, but I don’t feel very married. Even as I look around at the stoic, sterile infirmary around me, I feel like there is a battlefield I should be on, a war I should be fighting.

My inner turmoil must be apparent on my face, because Steve moves closer, speaks softer.

“Believe me,” Steve says, putting a big hand on my shoulder. “You love her, Buck. No matter how many years you’ve lost, you’ll remember it in your bones if you give her a chance.”

The crazy thing is, I believe him.

She’s sitting on the other side of the glass window that separates us, chatting with Pepper Potts. Miss Potts, Steve told me, is now Mrs. Stark, and when I’d asked him why she felt okay associating with us after all that happened, he’d told me that they’d all made up a long time ago. Even now, I’m relieved for that; as grateful as I am that Steve chose me over his Avenger friends, I have always questioned whether or not I was worth the trade. To know that all is set to right between the two sides is comforting.

My wife laughs at something Pepper says, grasps her hand with a smile. As I study her, I come to an obvious realization.

“She’s beautiful,” I tell Steve. “That’s got to count for something, I guess.”

If I’m being honest, it counts for a lot, but I don’t want to seem shallow. Even at this distance, her smile is charming; I remember being up close and personal with that smile this morning, and I know that her eyes have that shine to them that says she’s as sweet as she is mischievous. Her nose is a graceful outward slope against her profile, and her lips, while predisposed to pouting, seem soft, well-shaped, and supple. And as for the rest of her…

I try hard not to think about the way she’d pulled off the oversized— the me sized— t-shirt that she was wearing to change into something decent to wear. At the sight of her bare skin, I had been possessed of a strange and terrible urge to lick her from head to fucking toe before she managed to put real clothes on and show me where my clothes were. I shudder at the memory.

“I told you,” Steve says, “You love her. Only love can make a man look so green about the gills. You had the same look on your wedding day.”

I really, really can’t think about that right now.

“So… we really beat Thanos?”

“Yep. Five years ago. We all did the whole Avengers thing and, you know, assembled.” Steve shrugged. “It was a close call, but between all of us we managed to cut off Thanos’s hand before he could use the glove and his head before he could do any more damage. The old one-two, as it were.”

I don’t remember that at all. I tell him what I last recall— fighting Thanos in the Wakandan jungle, a mad melee for our lives.

“That’s about how it happened,” Steve nods, “except Tony was there, fighting with us. Don’t you remember him?”

I shake my head. I don’t remember, but battles are like that sometimes. Things get confused, chaotic— I might have been so busy fighting for my life that I just didn’t notice him swooping in to assist. I relate this to Steve, and he nods thoughtfully.

“It may be. In any case, I think I know why your memory is spotty. Who knows what’s gonna come back on the scans they took, but, I’ve gotta be honest”— Steve’s ears turn pink, so I know he’s really embarrassed— “You and I were training yesterday, testing out the new battle simulator here at S.W.O.R.D., and uh… I hit you in the head pretty hard with the shield.”

He looks away, shamefaced.

“I’m sorry, Buck.”

It is a terrible and unnatural thing to see Captain fucking America wilt like an overwatered magnolia. I take my oldest and dearest friend by the arm and tell him exactly what he needs to hear.

“Steve. Do not ever be sorry for anything that happens to me because of you. No, no, no, don’t look at me like that— every day that I’m alive and in my right mind is a day I borrowed from you. You should have killed me when I came off the ice with a mission to kill you.”

“I would never,” he protests.

“My point exactly. I don’t deserve you, Steve.”

“But you do.” His expression is pained. “You do, and you deserve this life you’ve made for yourself too, and I’m the reason you don’t remember it.”

Oh, boy. Thick as ever, that skull of his.

“The only reason I have this life is because you risked yours to give it to me, so cut the shit.” I think for a moment, then add, “Besides, we don’t actually know if you hitting me caused any memory loss. My skull is pretty thick, I’m sure it’s been through worse. It could be that so much time on ice, all the deprogramming, and stuff… it could just be that my brain has been through too much.”

It’s a sobering thought. We sit together in silence for a moment, letting that one sink in.

“In any case,” Steve says, “the scans won’t be back for a few days. What do you plan to do in the meantime?”

I don’t know. I’m a stranger in a strange land.

“Would it be bad to just… pretend nothing happened? If I already have a house, I could just… stay there with…”

It occurs to me that I don’t know my wife’s name.

“With (Y/N)?”

I nod.

“Yeah. With her. I mean, if she doesn’t mind.”

I feel myself flush. She might mind after this morning… I seem to remember pissing her off. Hurting her. Scaring her. I wouldn’t want me in my house if I was in her shoes.

“I’m sure she won’t. It might be… upsetting to her because you don’t remember, but she’s tough. More than that, Buck, you should know she takes her vows very seriously. When she said for better or for worse, she meant it. This is nowhere near the ‘worse’ she would endure for you. She loves you.”

“I’m starting to get that,” I say as I make awkward eye contact with her through the glass. “I could get used to it, I think. Being loved by somebody like her.”

“Take it from me,” Steve grins, “you’ll never get used to her.”

I’ve known Steve for many, many years, but I still can’t parse the meaning of that mischievous look in his eyes.

I am so, so out of my depth here— but that has ever and always been so. I was out of my depth as a kid in a war, then again as a man trapped inside an assassin, and again as a human soldier in a war of heroes, aliens, and other magical freaks of nature. I can navigate my way out of this one just as well as the others, I tell myself. It’s only a matter of compartmentalization.

“Ready to get going?”

My old friend holds a hand out to me. With a bravery I do not feel, I take his hand and let him help me down from the exam table.

“Ready as I’m gonna be.”

“You got this, soldier.”

“Sure, Steve. Whatever you say.”

We walk together to rejoin my wife and Pepper Potts— Stark, I remind myself. My wife stands, and by the way her brows forcibly smooth and a smile thinly blankets her former worried frown, it’s clear that she’s troubled. Pepper stands next to her and squeezes her shoulder in a silent gesture of support.

“Well, I don’t know about everyone else,” says (Y/N), “but I’m starving. Anyone down for brunch?”

Steve shrugs.

“I could eat. Pep?”

“I’m famished. I skipped breakfast to get Morgan to school on time, and it’s nearly lunch now.”

All eyes turn to me. I’ve never thought of myself as bashful, but being the center of attention at this present moment feels very similar to having my bare ass cheeks sitting on hot asphalt.

“Brunch is good. Where to?”

“Bagels on 32nd?” (Y/N) suggests.

“Fine by me.”

“Nothing better.”

Jesus fuck— they’re all looking at me again. If I could melt into a puddle, I would.

A small, soft hand reaches out to mine. My wife looks at me with a fondness that makes my chest ache. I hadn’t thought my discomfort to be so transparent, but it’s clear that she’s trying to comfort me. My heart lurches in my chest, but my body relaxes ever-so-slightly as she squeezes my hand.

“Bagels it is,” I manage, and then we all set off to walk together for a couple blocks.

On the brief walk, Steve and Pepper walk ahead of us, chatting about Morgan— who I surmise is Stark’s daughter— and (Y/N) and I hang back. She’s quiet, reserved, and perhaps a bit nervous, but half a block into our walk, she turns to me and says,

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier.” She looks up at me sheepishly. “You just seemed a bit frazzled, and I wanted— well, what I mean is, I just did what I would normally do, but I realize that things with us— well, things in general, but also with us— are not exactly normal right now, so in hindsight I could have just made it all worse instead of helping you feel, uh, less frazzled, so I’m really sorry if—”

I stop her there. The rambling is cute, but I’m starting to get the feeling that she’s going to work herself into hysterics if I let her keep going.

“I didn’t mind. Your normal— our normal— is good, I think.”

She shuts up then. I can feel her eyes burning holes into my face, but I dare not look down to meet her gaze.

We walk a ways further, and I ask her about the bagel place, what she usually gets, what the options are. She tells me her order, then hesitates. Sensing this hesitation, I make a guess at what she’s thinking and ask what my usual order is. She relaxes a bit, then tells me, and it seems right— both the order and the conversation.

“Now, there is some lore about this bagel place that I should probably mention.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.” Her tone is light, but she seems terribly interested in the brick wall of the building next to us. “Mrs. Dolores Finch is a regular there. I don’t suppose you remember Dolores?”

“Nope.”

“Ah. Well, she’s taken quite a shine to you— well, to both of us, really. She was quite taken with you when you rescued her cat out of a tree next to the cafe— the cat had slipped its harness, though how that fat furball managed to do that is beyond me— and once she got over her phase of trying to split us up and pair you with her granddaughter, she became… tolerable.”

She finally risks a sideways glance at me, gauging my reaction, then refocuses her eyes ahead of us.

“She will try to pinch your bum, though. I’ll do my best to run interference, but she’s surprisingly agile for someone her age.”

I try to imagine such a scene— a game of keep-away with my ass as the prize— and fail spectacularly.

“Thanks for the warning. I’ll be on guard for bum pinches.”

The rest of the way to the bagel place, we walk in silence, and I worry quietly about being ass-ambushed. I know there’s no reason to get so worked up, but the thing about being a soldier and an assassin is that a high-functioning anxiety disorder will keep a fella alive more often than it kills him. And sometimes, like it or not, the thing your brain deems anxiety-worthy is an old lady and her cat.

Can’t win ‘em all, I suppose.

We stop in front of an old brick building. It’s rustic and charming on the outside, and on the inside it’s full of soft golden light and old— like, really old, like me old— jazz music playing out of a Bluetooth speaker on a nearby shelf.

My wife elbows me gently as we approach a table, and her mouth molds itself into a smile.

“Good morning, Dolores,” she says with more fondness than I had anticipated. “How are you today?”

Dolores is a short old woman with gray hair covering what once was all auburn tresses. I can tell this because unruly bits of it peek out from beneath her frankly outrageous hat. The hat is giant, roughly the size of a large serving dish, and features what I can only assume is not one, not two, but three taxidermied cardinals on it. At her feet, the biggest, orange-ist cat I’ve ever seen is sprawled out in a patch of sunlight streaming in from the window, trying his damndest to wriggle out of his neon green reflective cat harness.

“Oh, my bones ache, but what else is new,” says Dolores with a put-upon sigh. When she looks past (Y/N) and and makes eye contact with me, her eyes light up with a nefarious grin that I’ve only ever seen on evil megalomaniacs right before pressing a big, red button. “Oh, and you’ve brought my darling boy to me! How wonderful! Oh my days, you won’t believe all the things that have fallen into disrepair around the house, why only this morning the garden hose—”

“Dolores,” (Y/N) smoothly interjects, placing a hand on Dolores’s shoulder. “Bucky isn’t feeling well these days. We just came to grab a quick bite and go home. I hope that’s alright.”

Dolores frowns. Her brown eyes go impossibly sad, and she leans closer to my wife to murmur,

“Is it… y’know… the war?”

It doesn’t take much to imagine which war she means— certainly not the war I was actually in. But still, given my metal arm and general disposition, it’s a valid assumption for her to have made. Despite my age, I haven’t gone very far from that army boy, lost, alone, and scared as hell.

(Y/N) looks back at me, then murmurs,

“Something like that.”

Dolores nods to herself.

“Well. Nothing to do for it but weather it, dearie. My own husband George, God rest his soul, was in the Air Force in 1939 when the war started, and honey when he came back, it was rough going, I tell you, really rough.”

With a start, I realize that Dolores is probably not too far in age from myself.

“But you’re a strong girl,” she continued, “and he’s a good man.”

Her eyes move to me, and then she says,

“And Bucky, my dear— let this sweet woman take care of you. Oh, I know it’s hard, but you’ll get through it. Lean on her when you can’t stand on your own, and if she can’t hold you up anymore, just sit down and ride it out together.”

She holds out a hand to me, and I take it. Her skin is old and frail, but softly textured to the touch.

“There you are, dear. I do wish you well. I really do. I’ll let you go.”

I nod. My wife gives our goodbyes, and just as I turn to follow her in the direction of our friends, I feel a pinch on my left ass cheek to rival the very wrath of God.

I whirl around, but Dolores is sipping her coffee, as innocent as a rattlesnake in a rose bush.

“Sorry,” (Y/N) says once we’re out of earshot, clearly embarrassed. “I really thought she was gonna let you have that one.”

“You were right,” I tell her with a wry grin. “She really is agile for her age.”

We rejoin Steve and Pepper, who rib me about Dolores’s antics before we all tuck into our food. The bagel I ordered— a recommendation from my wife— is spectacular, and it’s gone before anyone else’s is even halfway eaten. We sit and chat for a rather long while, and I find it surprisingly easy to be genuine with these people. They seem to understand me as well as they understand each other. It’s such a pleasant experience that I’m almost sad when we all have to leave.

“Will you all come over for dinner soon?” Pepper asks us, tucking her chair back under the table. “Tony’s been rotting in the garage for too long and could use the company.”

“We’ll be there,” Steve says with his signature boy-scout smile, and I nod in agreement.

“I’ll text you later and schedule, then. We all good to go?”

We all agree and say our goodbyes, and then we head out into the late afternoon sunshine. Pepper and Steve turn back to the direction of S.W.O.R.D. headquarters. (Y/N) and I set off in a different direction. She takes us through a path that is unfamiliar to me, but clearly well-trodden by her; within a few minutes, we arrive at the same place I’d started this Freaky Friday-esque day.

Our home.

It’s smaller on the outside than it seemed on the inside. The exterior is a creamy white stucco, and the roofing is the color of freshly-turned clay. The lawn is small but well-manicured, and a small rock structure bubbles with water— a fountain, I realize.

It’s like something out of a dream. Even when my hand touches the handle of our door, the whole place just doesn’t feel real.

Once inside, I begin to take notice of the layout, the design of the home. The hardwood floors are a gorgeous cherry shade; as we move to the living room, though, most of that hardwood is covered and protected by a Turkish rug that I know must have cost thousands of dollars.

So, I think, not only are we a happy couple, my wife and I, but we’re also well-off.

Looking around at all the photos, artwork, and knickknacks makes my head spin with the sheer amount of information that my mind is trying to absorb. In the living room, there is a photo of me with Tony Stark, standing in his garage and holding something with my metal hand that would obviously be too hot to hold otherwise; an eyeball that I can only hope is glass sits on a shelf next to a picture of a raccoon— Rocket, I recall— and a note that reads, just in case. There are dozens of these things in my immediate line of sight. I can hardly breathe for taking in every detail.

As I observe my surroundings, it becomes painfully clear that I have happened upon a world where I am not used, not tolerated, but cherished

In this world, it seems that I am very rich indeed.

But I cannot fathom this world, not right now. It is all too much at once. I feel awkward once more— ashamed, almost, and most certainly out of place.

“I need to go for a walk.”

The words are out of my mouth before I’ve thought them through, but the truth of the statement I have made is not mitigated by its impulsivity. I know myself enough to know when I need space— and right now, when my old, brainwashed life seems preferable to having to face my own reality not as a voyeur, but as an active participant, I know it’s time to gain some fucking perspective.

I look at my wife, who has, in the meantime, curled up on the couch and begun to read. She looks back at me and says with utmost gentleness,

“I know. Take as long as you need. Don’t forget your phone in case you want to crash at Steve’s or— or something.”

There’s no confusion or concern in her voice— so I surmise that this has happened before. I had wondered why she hadn’t spoken at all or invited me to sit. In retrospect, it seems that she had expected this eventuality. Like she knows me well enough to know that I would need space to process this.

It is a terrible thing to be known so intimately by someone that you don’t know at all. With just this one exchange, my wife has managed to make me feel both an aching fondness and a terrible inadequacy.

I don’t know her the way that she knows me. I certainly don’t know what she needs right now. But, judging by the sadness in her eyes, it’s not me deciding to fuck off for a while. A sacrifice, then— her comfort for mine.

I won’t forget it, and I am grateful for it… but I just can’t look at her any longer.

“Thanks.”

I do take my phone— which I barely know how to operate, dammit— and set out for a brisk walk around the neighborhood. The activity does wonders for my building headache. Despite my wife’s warning, I don’t anticipate being out more than half an hour. In the end, though, she’s right. I don’t even think to turn back until the sun is setting and I’m still miles from where I started. By the time I return, the stars are up and the moon is out, but as I open the front door to my home, I find that I’m much more centered.

Sure, I’m out of my depth— but I’ve always been out of my depth. Sure, I’ve lost some memories— but how much different is that really from having lost so many years to the ice? The end result is the same: I have to move forward with the time that I do have.

And as for my wife…

Some version of me loved this woman enough to promise my life to her; some version of me loves her so much that Steve insists that I always will love her. I trust my own judgement, and I trust Steve’s. To see the evidence of that good judgement, all I have to do is look around at photographs on the walls, in my phone, and around the house. In nearly every photo, I am smiling. It is so clear that in this life that I have forgotten, I have been loved and treasured and accepted beyond anything I could have imagined for myself. It would be an injustice for me to turn away from it. It would be an act of such unimaginable ingratitude that the thought of leaving disgusts me.

The living room is dark except for a single lamp. My wife is stretched out beneath the light of that lamp, a hardback book nudging into her sternum as she holds it tightly in her sleep. She is so beautiful like this that I imagine her to be an angel, glowing and golden. The only thing that mars the illusion is the presence of tear-tracks, little stains that cut jagged lines down either of her cherubic cheeks.

I pry the book gently from her hands. There is a mark against her chest where the corner had dug into her soft flesh, and I wish that there was something I could do to soothe that skin, to make it as if nothing had marred it. Instead, I find pillows and a blanket and cover her, adjusting her body so that she won’t have a crick in her neck from sleeping awkwardly. That done, I step back and admire my handiwork.

Oh yes. Much better.

Now, she looks much more human— but also much more comfortable. I’ll take that over otherworldly beauty any day of the week.

I turn towards the bedroom I woke up in this morning. My stomach growls, but I ignore it. Food can wait. I’m exhausted.

I strip down to my boxers, face-plant, and sleep, dreamless, for nine solid, delightful hours.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #smut #fluff #angst

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moonshynecybin · 2 days ago

Note

any humble updates on airport au...

context. SURE man what the hell. i actually have a good ass chunk written after this but hey. this is right after vale shows up at PI post sex dream and marc nearly crashes his scooter. happy birthday to these two filthy animals

Vale, like a mosquito, shows up at his box later that day, just before Marc is about to head out of the paddock. Probably because it’s a flyaway and he can’t show up at Marc’s motorhome to plague him there, and because he doesn’t know what house Marc and Álex are renting on the island.

He also, as a man put on the planet to consternate Marc, brings a good bottle of Merlot. And what with all of the recently healed very public animosity, it’s not like Marc can turn him away.

That’s what he tells himself, anyway.

“What was that about, this afternoon?” Vale asks immediately, rummaging around in the cabinets in Marc’s rider’s room and conjuring two cups without asking Marc if he even wants a glass. He’s pretty sure that the mug that Vale is eyeballing to see if it’s dirty is Jose’s.

He folds his knees up on the little couch in his rider’s room, a small act of self protection. He’s directly post-shower, and his hair is wet, his skin overheated. It's all a little — exposed. Like Vale might happen across his guts if their conversation winds down the wrong path. “I have a race tomorrow, quali, too— maybe I don’t want any wine.”

“God, I am glad I retired before they made us do sprints,” Vale cranks out the cork, then sniffs the bottle and makes a comically considering face until Marc breaks into a smile. He raises an eyebrow in the direction of the couch. “Well, do you?” He asks about the wine.

They sit and Marc takes his glass. Vale has unsubtly poured him a humongous portion.

“You didn’t answer me,” Vale ponders, sipping like a cat. “You know, you are not as good at lying as you think you are, it’s just that no one has the balls to call you out on it.”

Marc privately thinks that Vale is actually historically very bad at telling whether he is lying. He does not share this, he just crosses his arms on top of his knees.

“Hah, you should see my mom— she always let me blame stuff on Álex when we were young, it would make him so mad, and I would always get away with it.”

Turning towards him, Vale twists out of his hoodie, and Marc catches a soft strip of skin as his t-shirt rides up. The band of Vale’s underwear. He bites his lip and looks away. This is embarrassing.

“Hm, a born criminal, then? Not a learned one?” Vale is saying, throwing his hoodie over the chair and settling back on the couch.

Marc really hopes Vale has enough grace to let this afternoon go. He doesn’t have a lie ready, really, that he thinks Vale will believe.

“No, please. Most of those tricks I learned from you.”

“Like what?” He’s looking at Marc with big, innocent eyes.

He knows exactly what, he just likes to hear Marc say it.

“Lots of things. It’s probably the reason I was second place at Jerez in 2013, instead of third.”

It works, and Vale guffaws. Marc knew that it would— He used to love it when Marc would do shit to Jorge. Marc used to love doing shit to Jorge for that exact reason.

“Marc, please, please. We are in Australia, you have to pay your respects to Mick Doohan for inventing that move. He’s probably only about twenty meters away.” He drops his voice into a whisper. “Be careful, honestly maybe he can hear you.”

Marc looks at the ceiling, responds gravely, “I’m not a Repsol Honda rider anymore, I can do what I want.”

“Cin-cin. Hey, me neither,” Vale says brightly, and clinks his cup (José’s travel mug that says LESS TALK, MORE COFFEE) against Marc’s (a protein shake bottle that is missing its lid).

He can do what he wants. Marc turns that over, chewing on the edge of a thumbnail. He’s always thought so, but this is a little bit different. He changes the subject.

“Álex wants to go shopping on Monday at the airport, before our flight home. His girlfriend— it is her birthday on Wednesday, and he wants to get her this at one of the stores there, you know,” Marc pulls up his phone, finding a picture Álex sent him of the necklace. It's— Marc doesn't like it, but Marc’s picky. “And I think it is such a bad idea. It is so ugly, too much. He’s going to scare her.”

Vale looks for a second at the photo, picking at one of his nails, and then looks over at Marc.

“You wouldn't get that for your girl?”

“I wouldn’t get her something like that.”

“Well, what does she like?” Vale takes another pull of his drink, a little more subdued now. His face looks– pinched, for some reason. “Your girl. Maybe she has some ideas.”

“Oh, um.”

Vale just stares at him until he breaks. “No, no girlfriend. With travel, it's hard, you know.” Marc puts down his wine, leaning down to grab his racing boot and fiddle with it. “So. Not really looking.” The strap won’t close. He might need to get one of his backups tomorrow, for the race.

After a moment he notices Vale is still looking at him.

“Hm.”

“Yeah,”

“It’s hard.” Vale agrees, and then goes silent. “Tell Álex that the necklace is not so good. Try simple. Expensive.”

After a taught second where the both sip at their wine, Vale looks like he wants to say something more, but when he starts talking it's bright, airy, unrelated. Some story about him and Mick and being a Honda rider at the tobacco money fueled turn of the millennium, hands moving in the air as he mimes some poor mechanic scrambling to switch a tire. Marc watches, and he can’t stop looking at his hands, his neck, the way his mouth curves around syllables, the slant of his posture.

The thing he is realizing, while Vale boyishly shakes his head in a disapproving impersonation of Jeremy Burgess, is that— this hot fixation he’s discovered, it isn't a one-off. It's not the past, it's here, and it's now. He’d thought a little space would clean things up, work the frustration out of his bones, but the lack of space is serving to be just as clarifying a force. He sits and he stares. It's not just a dream or being pent-up from a long season, he’s not even sure that this is new. It doesn't feel like it is, it feels a lot like when he was 15 and meeting him, like when he was 20 and friends with him. Like when he was 21 and at the Ranch. Like when he was 22 and feeling like he was going to throw up, boring holes with his eyes in the side of Vale’s neck and willing him to look at him.

Hero-worship, he’d thought. The thrill of being friends with Valentino Rossi. People usually grow out of that, don't they? Marc didn't, and now he knows why.

He can do what he wants, Vale had said, except that he doesn't know that he can. Because what he wants, what he thinks he wants, well. That’s not really an option.

He takes his first sip of the night, and the Merlot bursts earthy and light on his tongue.

#classic fanfiction stuff here no frills #motogp #asks #callie speaks #rosquez #my fic #airport au

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oneirataxia-haechan · 1 day ago

Text

They get jealous of another member

Pairing: Enhypen hyung line x reader best friend Genre: Some angst with much fluff, and jealousy ofc Authors note: Reader is on the tall side for Jake's

requests open :)

ultimate masterlist & enhypen masterlist

Heeseung

Jealous of Sunoo

Sunoo is your literal sunshine. All of Enhypen knows this, even Sunoo himself. You always give everyone compliments on performances wheather it be on stage, EN-O’CLOCK or even just aeygo in general. Overall, these praises are always pretty equal among the boys. If Sunoo happens to recieve a few more than the rest of the boys, it’s usually not a problem because they know how much you adore him. It has never come up that any of the boys get jealous of Sunoo until you overheard Niki talking about an issue with Sunghoon.

“Have you noticed Heeseung being jealous of Sunoo recently?” Sunghoon questioned the maknae.

“Yeah, he seems to be trying extra hard to be cute in front of Y/n.” Was all you got as you passed by them. You decided to speak with Heeseung when you could.

Before you got the chance, of course it was Sunoo’s turn for his solo shoot. Heeseung sat with you, hoping to hear the things you were saying about Sunoo, so he could try and get the same comments when it was his turn. After he was done Heeseung was up and he was being a try hard, everyone could easily tell. You were laughing with the younger members about something that Sunoo did during his shooting. Heeseung and his overthinking assuming you were all laughing at him. He then got very serious while finishing his solo shots. You were shouting different things, but he felt that the amount increased only when he was serious, compared to him acting cute. Things like ‘Heeseung is so handsome!’ ’The oldest member but looks so young!’ ‘Wow he can do serious so well, I’m impressed!’

Typically he’d melt over these compliments but today they felt condesening. Heeseung just couldn’t understand why you were no longer complimenting him on anything cute or fun he does like you used to. Not to say you never did, but it was definetly more of a every now and then, rather than frequently like you do for the rest of the boys. You truly didn’t think of it bothering him, especially since he was still recieving praises from you. Once he was done he came over to all of you and asked how you thought he did, answering honestly you stated.

“You were very handsome and had amazing model poses!” Hearing this he could only sigh and walk away.

You gave the boys a weird look of confusion not understanding what you did wrong at the moment. You were about to follow him when Niki stopped you.

“Give him a minute before you go talk to him, okay?” You knew he was probably right so you nodded and waited a second as the overthinking beginning. You were truly so worried that he was so upset he might not even want to speak to you, but you have to try. After you gave him a few minutes you then went to see where his energy randomly ran off to, hoping it wasn’t your fault. Maybe he was just a bit tired, right? Maybe you overheard Niki and Sunghoon incorrectly?

“Heeseung?” You said softly behind him, putting your hand on his shoulder as he turned toward you.

“Yes? Are you here to tell me how handsome I am again? Well I don’t care.” You were a bit thrown off by the words that left his mouth especially the ‘I don’t care’ part. His tone was very bitter as well, but it sounded more hurt rather than trying to chastise you.

“You don’t care about my compliments? Maybe I’ll just keep them to myself anyways.” You were really over his weird mood recently, specifically for today. Not wanting to come off rude didn’t work, feeling a bit perturbed by his response.

“That’s not-“ He cut himself off, immediately being slapped with guilt, then began again.

“Do you think I’m cute?” He questioned, looking at your shoes in embarrassment. His voice so soft you almost needed to ask him to repeat himself. This caused you to laugh at the unexpected question. He looked defeated watching you laugh in response.

“Forget I-“ He said as you cut him off this time.

“When did I ever say you weren’t cute?” Heeseung stood there for a second, having not antisipated for this question from you.

“You just never really say anything about me being or acting cute like you do the other boys.” You tilted your head as you lifted his chin making sure he was looking in your eyes.

“Is this about the comments I make towards Sunoo?” He was completely silent and looked down again.

“Lee Heeseung.” His head immediatley shot up, looking you in the eyes, still not seeming like he was going to answer.

“Fine act like a jealous baby, but just so you know Sunoo told me he gets jealous of me calling you handsome and praising your seriousness.” He immediately smirked.

“Really..?” You laughed lightly with relief.

“Yes, I’ve been trying to work on making the comments more equal. Obviously that hasn’t been working well for me recently.” He pulled you in for an apologetic hug knowing he should just appreciate you and your comments in general.

Jay

Jealous of Sunghoon

Sunghoon was so excited to be going skating with you and the boys. It wasn’t ice skating but any skating will do I guess. You had talked with him on the way there about how bad you were at skating and how you’ve tried before, with no luck. Jay would bud into the conversation saying he was also not very good and knew nothing really. Sunghoon could only laugh at you both, saying he’d try and help you when we got there. Once you guys arrived you all got your skates on and began trying to skate. You were hugging the wall with Niki, Jay, and Jake. Sunghoon decided to come over and help you first, holding onto your hands, instructing you with tips to make it easier for you to pick up. You were doing really well so he let go of your hands. You made it about 5 feet before almost falling, Sunghoon catching you in his arms. Jay saw laughing at you, but quickly stopped when he realized you were in Sunghoon’s arms. This closeness was not a new sight, but something about seeing you both so close today, sparked some jealousy. Sunghoon then decided it was a good time to leave you after a few more laps with his assistance. He went over to Jay to help him out like he did for you. You stayed close to them just in case you needed help, but you also wanted to see Jay best you could. He would crack some jokes, which would usually having your stomach hurting, but you were too distracted by Sunghoon. Watching him skate was so breathtaking, but watching him teach just made your heart smile. At one point Sunghoon let go of Jay which went well for around 1 lap by himself. Then Jay noticed you staring at Sunghoon again. This caused him to stumble and fall, everyone noticing as an instructor came to his rescue. As he was getting back up he had noticed you laughing at him when usually you’d come check on him. He loved making you laugh but he felt like you were too in awh of Sunghoon to care. He felt like you were laughing at him, making fun of him. Coming from you specifically, this hurt him in a new place. Shortly after he left the floor to sit down something happened, causing Sunghoon to fall. You made your way over to him to make sure he was okay, only lightly laughing. Nothing like when his hyung fell, which was a gigantic bomb to Jay's ego. Everyone ended up taking a break, finally joining Jay, who had been sitting alone following his fall. You sat next to Sunghoon and Heeseung, asking the younger of the two again if he was okay. ‘Of course.’ Jay thought seeing this. ‘The 2 best skaters here. I wish Y/n wouldn’t have made fun of my fall, but their laugh is music to my ears.’ He sighed, Jake noticing next to him, causing him to look in your direction to see what he was sighing at. You also noticed his sigh and his pouty face, not thinking much of it. You decided to go talk with Jay while the other boys went back to skating.

“Jay are you okay?” You asked genuinely, giggling a bit thinking about the events from before. He sighed with hurt.

“Why don’t you go check on the pro again? I don’t need your pity.”

“Jay-“ You tried to explain.

“No. I don’t like being laughed at like that. You waiting almost an hour to check up on me but checked on the guy that knows what he’s doing right after he fell. I get it, I-“

“Jongseong stop.” You said sharply but in a whisper so you wouldn’t draw any attention to you both.

“Oh like when you stopped laughing at me. Or when you stopped worrying about being so in awh of Sunghoon over caring about me?” He snapped back quickly. His voice was so harsh, yet so hurt.

“Jay I-“ Cutting yourself off you sighed. Deciding to just choose a silent apology laying your head on his shoulder, and holding his hand. He laid his head against yours, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb.

“See this is the special treatment I deserve over Sunghoon.” He joked, making you giggle into his shoulder.

“Now let’s go try this again. Together.” Jay smiled, liking the sound of your new plan.

"Just know if you fall I'm not going to hold back, it's only fair." He joked, flashing you a bright smile.

Jake

Jealous of Niki

Enhypen’s choreographer decided to have them do another duet style dance, similar to bite me. You happen to be a backup dancer for Hybe but don’t usually get paired with them since you guys are so close. When they heard the news that you’d be getting to finally dance with them, they were all immediately excited. This excitment faded as quickly as it had appeared as they all slowly began to realize you would only get to dance with one of them. Since you were on the taller side compared to the other dancers, you had a feeling you’d be paired with either Heeseung or Niki. When the pairings were announced in front of all of you, of course your partner was announced first. Everyone was still staying optimistic about getting you as their partner, then the choreographer finally spoke.

“Being paired with Y/n is…” You could see each member leaning in, waiting for the answer they all hoped for.

“Niki!” Niki flashed the biggest smile and ran over to you, bringing you in for a hug.

As his celebration was occuring you noticed all the other boys reactions to the news. All the other members looked bummed but not as upset as Jake seemed to be. You were surprised he looked so upset since he was considered short for you, pairing wise. He looked a little heart broken over it though. After the first time seeing the cheorography you guys got a break to talk amongst yourseleves, you of course went to check on the aussie.

“Jake..?” You lightly whispered not wanting to spook him since his back was facing you. He quickly turned around, recognizing the voice, and took your hands in his.

“Y/n! Hi, congrats on getting to dance with our talented baby!” His voice sounded hurt, but he was trying to sound happy for you both. Trying? Well he was happy for the maknae, truly, he just couldn’t help but feel jealous.

“You aren’t too upset about me being paired with Niki, right?” You softly questioned.

“Of course not! I do think the height rule is a little lame since I’ve worn shoes with height before. Of course this time they seem to forget about those I guess.” He said with lots of nervous laughter.

“Well I-“ You were cut off by a voice as they walked up to you both.

“Hey Y/n, I’m so excited to dance with you! Jake I hope you aren’t too jealous!” Niki teased. You smiled at the maknae, watching Jake’s expression. As soon as Niki looked away from him his once forced smile turned into a very sour face. A very jealous one.

“Well, I’ll leave you both alone while we still have some time before we start practicing.” Niki said as he walked away to mess with another member. Jake didn’t say anything, he could only stare at the back of Niki in frustration.

“Jake..?” You said, inturrupting his lazer focus.

“Hmm? Yes? What were you saying before?” He asked looking into your eyes as his expression completely changed, softening up for you. You nervously cleared your throat.

“I was going to say I noticed you seemed more bummed than the other boys about the pairing decision.” He was silent for a few moments, looking almost like a deer in headlights.

“Oh did I? I did really want to dance with you, we all did, but I’m fine with the result.” He claimed, flashing you his signiture sweet smile.

As he finished his sentence you all got called to begin the first practice. Practicing went on for a bit and since you both were close the teacher decided to use you and Niki as an example for the other pairs. At certain points the choreographer would be explaing something while you both were in a position, able to see yourselves in the mirror. Noticing Jake’s face, full of disappointment and jealous rage, you felt so guilty somehow. As you were lost in thought you noticed his eyes directly on you both now, instead of the teacher. He was staring at your partner specifically. He was beginning to burn holes into the back of Niki’s head as you brushed the maknaes hair with your hand. Catching Jake's attention he looked at you, not expecting your eyes to meet, quickly looking away.

After practiced finished Jake kind of avoided going near you, in hopes you’d forget how he had acted before. He really tried not to be jealous but it wasn’t working in his favor. As you said your goodbyes to the other boys and dancers you noiced he had already left the room. You ran into him in the hallway with his hood up, sitting against the wall, and looking down at his lap. You quietly sat next to him putting your head on his shoulder.

“Please don’t distance yourself from me or Niki during this. Feeling jealous is okay and we won’t be upset if you are.” You said, placing a comforting hand on his leg. You could feel him sigh deeply.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me, it just feels so unfair. Only because you aren’t shorter than me.”

“That may not have been their only reasoning, don’t think so negatively Jakey.” He sighed again, this one sounding deeper and more frustrated than before. You lifted your head off his shoulder and rubbed his back. He knew you were right, of course, he just hated feeling so jealous.

“We could always practice together when we’re not with the group.” You suggested, hoping he’d feel a bit better. He began lifting his head and looked at you with pink cheeks.

“That would be fun! Thanks.” He said smiling ear to ear.

“Don’t forget your heels!” You said teasingly as he giggled.

Sunghoon

Jealous of Jay

The boys decided to invite you to an EN-O’CLOCK episode where you got to participate. All of you were excited but Sunghoon was especially excited. This episode centered around fashion and creating outfits. Bonus points for making you and the other boys laugh as well. He was feeling pretty confident about this challenge since you always gave him many compliments on his style, swearing you’re his biggest hype man. In order to make it completely fair you’ll be judging without knowing who styled which outfit. He figured he had this in the bag until he heard the comments you were making about some of the competition. One in particular was seeming to be your favorite, not his but Jay’s. You had also been laughing quite a lot at his jokes compared to the other boys, especially Sunghoon. It was starting to look like Jay was going to win. As your top choice was announced, Sunghoon’s already faded smile was now completley gone.

After the episode ended he went to find you to talk about the day but he found you with today’s winner. He began to easedrop a bit.

“You were hilarious as always, I think I need to start asking you for fashion tips now.” Somehow you asking about fashion had become you and Sunghoon’s thing. Now you were asking the ‘oh so funny’ Jay for advice. As much as he hates to admit it, this stung like hell for him. Once you were done speaking with Jay you went looking for Sunghoon, wondering where he disappeared to. He was gone comepletely. You then began to look for him, asking everyone if they had seen him. One staff member mentioned something about him stepping outside, which worried you because it was freezing today. You threw your coat on, grabbing a blanket to take just in case. Walking outside you noticed him standing with his back to the door, staring off into the distance. Not noticing you he barely flinched at the motion of you wrapping the blanket around him.

“Hoon let’s go back inside it’s freezing out here.” He took the blanket off his shoulders, handing it back to you.

“Park Sunghoon!” You said with despiration.

“It isn’t fashionable enough. You may ask Jay how he’d style it.” You scoffed.

“Are you seriously being a sore loser and acting childish right now?” Catching his attention with your choice of words, he finally looked at you.

“Don’t do this Hoon, it was just a silly challenge. You are still my #1 fashion expert, okay?” He cracked a secret smile as he wrapped you both in the blanket, heading back inside. As you were both heading back into the warmth, you decided to mention something. “You know Hoon, Jay did mention something about watching you and your style recently.” Sunghoon smiled, knowing even if it wasn’t true, you said it to make him feel better.

maknae lines here

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imagine-notnatural · 1 day ago

Text

This is set to be after the events of this post, sorry about the out of order posting

Anyways! More on Janitor! Readers (mis)adventures!

When you first arrived on base Michael thought he’d be stuck with a stick in the mud. And for sometime he wasn’t wrong. You went out of your way to avoid too many interactions with him and everyone else really, keeping quiet, letting conversations die, purposely avoiding tasks that required working with him, etc. You were coverless book and your title was incredibly boring so he wasn’t even going to try to crack you open. He didn’t even think the two of you would end up getting along.

But all it took was a graveyard shift, some cereal bars,and him telling you the order in which he poured his cereal for you to decide that you’d die on your hill and disagree with him for the two of you to become friends.(Later inseparable)

Back to now.

It wasn’t often a job called for both of you to work together. So when you’d received the call on your radio to meet with Mikey, you knew you’d be waking up the next day completely sore.

You’d been giving a task that would require the both of you. You were asked to clear out one of the buildings before some of the mechanics had to use it the next day. Michael was practically beaming when he entered the break room to find you reading the board for your charge.

“(Name)! You ready for backbreaking labor?!”

“Born ready, Big-Mike. Brought us snacks and everything,” you gesture to the inside of your olive green jumpsuit. Which is filled packets of pretzels, gummies, and protein bars. You held a couple cold drinks in your hand.

“Ugh! Yes! Do you need a house husband? I could be one if you’re going to be ”

“Not my type. I need my men to have more meat on them-“

“Nope- don’t like this- Let’s go!” He quickly stud up to grab a kart and headed towards the door. You chuckled and followed after him

“I noticed you have a couple pins on your bag when you came in today, did you start to collect them?” Michael asked, pushing forward the cart.

“I did actually. I found one on the street the other day, and when I went to go buy groceries from the farmers market today there was someone with a pop-up. I ended up getting a Perry the Platypus and Doctor Doofenshmirtz pin set and a pin that says ‘Ticket to Pound Town’ I'm planning to give as a gag gift-”

"Isn't that beastiality?" Michael asked with a grimace on his face.

"I can't stress this enough, Mikey, it's two separate ones and one is a gift."

“Oh okay...You know, one of my favorite Doofenshmirtz quotes is the one where he goes ‘It all began on the day of my actual birth, both of my parents failed to show up’”

“Mine’s where he goes ‘If I had a nickel every time I was doomed by a puppet, I'd have two nickels. Which isn't a lot. But it's weird that it happened twice, right?”,”

Michael chuckled, “ I like that one too.”

The two of you continue to chatter on as you make your way to building.

You grab your keys as you arrive at the hangar. Once You'd unlocked and opened the door, you proceeded to turn around to help Michael lift the cart over the door's frame and get it inside. Just as you entered the threshold, you couldn't help the shiver the went down your spine.

"What is it?" Michael questioned, seeing as you'd twitched as you enter the building.

"Nothing, I think I'm just cold." You answered, trying to shake off the unease.

"Come on, if you go high and I go low, we'll probably finish faster."

The two of you nodded in agreement and went your separate ways. Michael grabbing a ladder and you clearing out miscellaneous tools and machinery.

"You should set that stuff outside, if you get the main door up a lil' you'll be able to set it out there." Michael called from the latter.

You took a glance at the front where the hangar's main entrance was, that shouldn't be that hard, you thought to yourself. You let Michael know you'd be right back as you walked over to the side of the door with the lock. You moved through the random assortment of boxes and

You stood frozen, staring down at the creature at your feet. Praying to whatever could hear to keep you from this fate. Alas you were left to fend for your own.

“Michael.”

…

“Michael”

Its antenna twitched innocently. Its beady little eyes shimmered under the the light. Its sleek black grey body reflected light as though it’d been polished.

“Michael! Mike- MICHAEL!”

“(Name)?”

. The beam of light from the overhead fixture seemed to follow it like a stage light follows its cast as it began to scurry, it could almost hear the sound of Tchaikovsky’s Swan lake beginning to play in the background-

“MICHAEL GET OVER HERE!” You jumped back, too frightened to turn around and give it your back. Michael rushed to you, his expression panicked then it turned disapproving as he saw what caused this reaction out of you

Feeling the earth beneath it tremble, it took to the skies

“IT’S FLYING MICHAEL- MICHAEL- AHHH! WHY IS IT FLYING?!”

“(Name), stop running! It’s just a-” the tables turned when it changed direction and headed for him,

“ah- AH WHAT THE-?!”

He quickly turned to the defense, swatting the air frantically. Michael’s words soon turned into incoherent screams as he missed the bug horrendously each time. However, he did not miss the fact that you had left him to deal with the roach on his own.

In tempo with the song in its head, it gracefully dodged every swat, not letting the giant deter it. It’s wings whirred in the air. Its trajectory decided.

“(NAME)! (NAME) hELP ME!” Michael screamed as he turned around to run,

“MIKEY RUN- MIKE, OH MY- MICHAEL I CAN’T-,” You were heaving heavily in a well lit area near the doorway.

“COME THIS WAY!” You cried out, rushing to the door and pushing it open,

The screech that left Michaels body was borderline inhuman as he ducked under the flying creature to get to the exit. He could feel the blood pumping into every muscle in his body worked in unison to get him out of there.

It felt like movie scene, Michael sprinting to the door as the flying cockroach speedily flew after him. You watched in terror as it followed after Michael, having whipped around once he’d managed to get past it.

You watched as Michael ran with all his might towards the door. You readied yourself behind the door.

You’d have to close it after him to save the both of you.

Michael dove through the door, yelling as he did“ CLOSEITCLOSEIT-“

“CLOSE IT!!”

You slammed the door shut once he’d passed through. The buzzing noise made by the flapping of its wings dulled by the thick metal door,

You put your back to the door and watched as Michael rolled over and lifted himself on his elbows, his eyes wide as they met with yours

You stared at each other for what felt like hours but in reality was only seconds

He was the first to crack, Michaels fearful expression had morphed into one of disbelief, then he began with his stifled laugh, and you, not able to not react, began to bite back a smile, then your heavy breath started sounding like laughing. You tried avoiding each others gazes but when you inevitably saw each others faces you couldn’t hold it together any longer.

First he began quiet, so did you. Then you couldn’t help yourself as you got louder, you tried covering your mouth but no avail. Seeing how you failed to keep it together, Michael laughed harder, then you did too.

It continued like that until you were both hysterical.

There was a lot of pointing at each other and keeling over while laughing so hard you couldn’t form coherent words.

“Aw fuck, HAH-, dude how are we gonna get shit done?” Michael wheezed out, finally sitting up. He dusted his elbows off and extended a hand.

“I don’t know but I’m not going back in there unless that’s shits gone,” You grabbed it and hauled him up, “I thought being scared of insects was ‘sTuPid’? Looked like you were just as scared as I was- if not more,”

“(Name), mate, it was flying at me,” he quickly defended, “it was coming straight for me! Of course it scared me!”

“Yeah but when I SAID-“

“YEAH YOU KNOW WHAT?! YEAH BECAUSE WHEN YOU SAID-“

As the two of you began your bickering, you both failed to notice the hulking figure that’d been watching the pair of you losing your minds for the last five minutes . Though who can blame you when his moniker is literally Ghost. It’s implied, I fear.

The pair of you were plenty distracted in your arguing. It wasn’t like he purposely had walked out of the building knowing he’d find the janitors seemingly fighting for their lives. it just happened. And now he was going to take note of it, but leave.

It was this motion that finally caught your attentions’. You paused in the middle of your argument with Michael. He quickly noticed and turned around to follow your gaze. When he saw who you saw, he quickly thought of a solution your problem.

You both turned back at each other, as Ghost’s broad back turned to face you and slowly began shrinking into the distance.

“ you know him, go, Ask him-“

“No I don’t?! I’m not asking him shit-“ you quickly denied

Michael grabbed you by the arm and whipped you around to face him, “ Then are you gonna do it?!” He glared,

“FfffAWK NO”

“WELL ME EITHER, so you go ask that big scary man to deal with it, nOW! HURRY! Before he goes!” He forced you in his direction. You stopped and turned around, you both had a silent battle of wills, your faces your weapons.

When Michael saw you weren’t budging, he merely grabbed the door knob and pointed at you then the door.

You wouldn’t, your face said

Oh yes I would, his seemed to reply

You glared at him before you turned around and began to jog to catch up to the lieutenant.

“Lieutenant- Sir! Lieutenant Riley! Wait-“

You had just turned the corner when you nearly bumped into the man.

As always you couldn’t see much of his face, baklava and what not. But you could see his eyes when he turned around and look down at you, he had a quirked eyebrow for a brief moment when he turned around

“What?” As if his figure wasn’t intimidating enough, that deep voice of his and the heaviness of his gaze on you surely were when your nerves were practically fried.

“Hi, Hello, good evening, uh, okay… I’d… if you have the time…there this- and I’ll-“

His eyebrows furrowed and you could explode right then and there

“ Wait okay,” you sighed, your hand squeezing the bridge of your nose, you dragged that same hand down your face before continuing,

“We don’t really know each other, I know this, you know this, but I need a favor-” your hands clapped together nervously, “ I restock y’all’s rec room in two days so whatever you want or need, I can get it for you, and if not that-“

For a moment he stood there just watching you squirm. Watching the way your face changed and how you continued to rattle on. You’re a fidgety speaker when nervous, just as Johnny had said. Your hands moving to accentuate your words or tug at the fabric of your jumpsuit. At this very second, one hand pointed a finger at him

“ and I’d say you at the very least owe me for the two times you scared the absolute shit out if me-“

He hadn’t even realized he’d zoned out starting at you until your hands handed on either side of your hips

“So you in or out?”

You started at each other for a few seconds before Simon nodded,

You mentally dropped to your knees in gratitude before thanking him quickly and having him follow you to the old hangar where Michael was pacing out side the door.

When he caught sight of the lieutenant walking after you, his face visibly brightened. “ You’re the best!” He whispered shouted at you as you neared,

You had half a mind to flip him off but decided against it. You continued to the door, and turned ‘round to ensure the giant had followed after you.

The big guy is impossibly quiet, you’d thought to yourself on your walk over. And now that you stopped at the door you’d realized you hadn’t heard a single step of his.

“It’s inside, we just need you to kill it-“

“Sir, if you happen on any others fell free to get those two while you’re at it.” Michael added, his hands balled into the pockets of his jacket.

“You shut up,” you pointed an angry finger at him before turning back to Ghost with a pleading smile, “ but also what he said,”

You could’ve sworn you’d heard an amused huff come from the giant.

He opened the door and stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

You and Michael waited silently beside the door. It was less than a minute before a sudden THWACK, made the two of you jump. Then it was followed by another, and then another, and following that another. It continued like this for five minutes; there was a sound of equipment being moved when a final THWACK was heard.

Ghost stepped outside with a folded up cardboard in his hand, you whipped around at the fight sight of a dismembered leg on it.

“It’s done,” was all he said when he shut the door behind him. “Get on with it,”

Michael was the first to thank him, nearing the door and opening it to look inside. Ghost grunted in reply and walked past him, not that Michael minded, too caught up in the massacre left begging to notice.

Simon dropped the cardboard on the ground before nearing you. At the sound of it, you turned around to face him, purposely not looking to his feet and instead focusing on his face.

“Thank you sir, really,” your eyes met his “ Any thoughts on how I can repay the favor?”

“ Wait and see NyQuil”

You visibly and viscerally cringed at the name,

“Yes sir, thank you sir,”

He huffed out a silent chuckle and began walking off.

Right then Michael poked out his head from the building, his face expressed awe,

“Ay mate you’ve gotta get in here- HEYWHAT THE-“

The rock you don’t remember picking up flew in his direction and dinged the metal of the building, only missing his dumb stupid face because he’d ducked back inside the building in time

“ I fucking told you not to call that shit! Now people are actually fucking calling me-“

“It’s COOL!” Michael yelled back

“No ITS NOT”

you throw a couple more pebbles before finally giving up. Despite your impeccable aim, it was no use if the bastard used the door as his shield.

You finally neared the door and pulled on it, you were met with resistance,

“ Mike open this door right now,”

“ so you can pelt me? No thank you,”

“ I won’t, I don’t even have anything in my hands,”

“ you’re lying,”

“ I’m not,”

“On our friendship you’re not?”

“Mhmm, on our friendship.”

The door creaked open. Michael’s body language unsure as he revealed himself to you. He quickly turned his eyes from your face to your hands, a sigh of relief escaped him when he saw them empty.

“ in all due respect, it’sa sick nickname”

“No it’s not. Shut up before I stone you to death, Mikey”

He smiled and moved out of the way, showing you in

“ yeah yeah just get to work scaredy cat,”

#cod 141 #john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #mw2 141 #simon ghost riley #oc #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader #tf 141 #supernatural au #soap cod #ghost cod #gaz cod #captain price #price #price cod

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novasintheroom · 1 day ago

Text

034. Realize

♡ Pairing - Vash x Reader

♡ Word count - 1.1k

♡ Warnings - none

♡ Description: Vash realizes you like him.

Part of the 150 Bullets drabble series on AO3

Dunes to the right shadow you both from the last heat of day. The road to the next town isn’t long, thankfully. You use your feet to get there. Sands purple underfoot as night approaches.

Vash is caught up in his head. He sees the bar of Veneteen in his mind’s eye. You’d stopped for lunch there on the way to their Plant earlier today. It’s smoky with barbeque and nicotine, but he can still see you and your awkward smile through the haze. You’re sitting at a table near the back of the saloon.

“Have you ever been in love?” Your quiet voice asks. It’s shy, like you’re treading on thin ice.

Maybe you are. You two haven’t talked about this before. Idly, he wonders why. He doesn’t give an answer right away, downing his lukewarm water and smacking his lips. Your eyes follow the movement of his throat bobbing. “Um, no. I’ve had crushes, but no.”

You giggle, and the sound does something to him; makes him lean forward more. “Me too. I don’t think I’d know I’m in love until it hits me in the face.” You lean an elbow on the table and place your head in your palm. “What do you think it feels like?” You bite your cheek, looking down and rubbing a finger on the metal.

Vash smiles. “I dunno. I’d like to think it feels like a…a really great friendship. Mixed with hugs and kisses, y’know.”

“Hm. Maybe that’s why everyone always assumes we’re a couple,” you say.

“Ha, minus the hugs and kisses, right?”

You go quiet. “Right,” you whisper.

Vash wonders then if he’s said something wrong. Watches you rub your finger across the table, scratch off some of the stains with your nail. You look up at him and smile, wobbly and so, so endearing. Then, it clicks into place. With dawning horror, he realizes –

You like him.

Like, like like him.

His ears redden at the memory. He’s been so dense. He’s seen it a million times in others. Ninety-three years he’s been alive, and there’s always a tell when someone likes another.

Yours is in your smile. That small, shy thing that seems to be only for him.

He returns to the present. The dunes stand high. He is placing his feet where you have in the sand. You glance back at him, checking to make sure he’s still there. He gives you a thumbs-up. Your smile tilts up, and you turn around. There’s a shy hunch to your shoulders, your fingers flicking together as if warding off an uncomfortable feeling.

Humans are funny. They try so hard to not show their emotions, yet they leak out like a cracked pot filled with water.

Vash thinks about that. How long have you liked him? Is he really just noticing it now? How long have your feelings been trickling out?

His feet stop when he wonders: does he like you too?

He shakes his head. No. No, he can’t. His eyes flick to you, walking ahead. The sunlight outlines your figure – gold, with the barest dusting of pink overhead. His closest friend he’s had in a long time. Perhaps ever.

Vash readjusts his grip on his bag. Sighs. It’s not that Vash hasn’t considered it before. He has. That’s the problem. He’s wondered in the dead of night what it would be like to hold more than just your hand. To hug you longer than what friends do. He banishes it away as soon as it comes, but still…

He shakes his head again. This is stupid. There’s no way he could ever get into a relationship. Not with what he’s done. Vash takes a few steps forward. There’s no way he should be wondering what it would be like to hold you close. To put his nose to your neck.

To kiss you –

Vash trips over his own feet and flops to the ground. You let out a sound of surprise once you turn, and rush to his side. “Woah, you okay?”

He feels the heat of his blush – far different from the usual heat of the day. It has a sting to it. “Uh, yup! Just – just tripped over – “ he looks back to blame it on a rock, a bump of dirt, but sees only flat ground. He sighs. “Anyways.”

You laugh, offering a hand up. “Happens to the best of us.”

Vash smiles and takes your hand. A zing of excitement courses through him, feeling your palm clasping his. When he stands, he takes his hand away quickly, flexing his fingers. A pit of anxiety settles in his chest. He can’t give you any hope. Not for this. “Uh, thanks,” he says.

You smile and turn to continue walking. He stares. There’s nothing special about your gait, but he watches your hips sway with your steps, your braid swing left to right, the way you grasp your bag’s strap. A fluttering feeling overtakes his heart when you glance back to check on him, stopping again when you notice he isn’t moving. “What’s up?” you ask.

“Nothing!” His voice cracks. He clears his throat. “Nothing.”

Your brows tick up. You don’t believe him. Turning fully, the last light of the suns catches the top of your head, turning it into a golden halo. “You’re acting weird.”

Vash pulls his eyes from that angelic vision and stammers, “I-I’m always weird.”

“Weirder than normal.”

A beat of silence. Vash stares at his shoes. A stalemate; Vash won’t talk, and you won’t move.

Finally, you sigh. “Whatever. You’ll tell me when you’re ready, right?”

Swallowing, Vash nods his head. It’s a lie – he doesn’t even know what he’s agreeing to tell you. But you smile and walk toward him. Those hips sway. That feeling of nerves turns into a billion crickets in his stomach. He might be sick.

You take his metal hand and squeeze it. Your eyes are so, so bright. Beautiful. “You’re gonna be alright, birdie.”

Is he? He feels strange. Maybe he caught something. Either way, he feels bad, making you guess and soothe him without a payoff. So, he tries to change the subject. “Hey, didn’t you say you’re looking forward to that one beer in the next town? What’s it called…”

You grin, taking the bait with grace. “It’s called a Champagne Velvet,” you continue to hold his hand, pulling him forward and swinging your arms together. It sends those crickets in his stomach flying. “Supposed to be an old Earth recipe that survived. I mean, they probably changed some things about the recipe – everyone does. That’s what makes it so fun to try, right?”

And even with your hand in his, making his heart do somersaults, he hums in agreement. New things are fun to try. Just like this friendship. Just like you.

He doesn’t know what’s going on with him. Not yet. But holding your hand, listening to you talk about the history of beer on the planet…well, that makes things a little better for now.

#trigun #vash the stampede #trigun stampede #tristamp #vash #writing #vash x reader #vash the stampede x reader #reader insert #nova writes #trigun x you #vash x you #150 bullets #x reader #trigun x reader

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a-babe-without-a-name · 1 day ago

Text

Sit Next To Me

Chapter 4: Viktor, Give It To Me.

You had created two rules for yourself.

Rule One: You could do whatever you wanted. Get the degree you want, party when you want, cancel plans when you want, love who you want. Whatever you really wanted to do, you were going to do, anxiety and guilt free.

Rule Two: You could do whatever you wanted, except for have relationships with classmates. No sex, no dating. If they were on the same course roster as you, they were off limits.

Easy enough, right?

…Right?

Viktor x Female!Reader - 18+

CW: Blood. Spoiler details in the End Notes on AO3

A.N. Christ on a mf cracker, this took me forever and it's way longer than it should be. Thank you so so so much to everyone who has left such kind comments and encouragement on the other chapters. It means the world to me. It's 1 am and I'm incredibly tired, so short author note. If I think of anything else to add, I will put more author notes in the replies.

Read on AO3

By the time Wednesday morning rolled around, you had practically pushed all thoughts of Viktor from your head. You had to, there were so many things you needed to get done and what felt like negative time to do them. You were barely halfway through week two of the semester and you were officially drowning. In retrospect, three STEM classes at once was probably a bad idea. Not only was the course load for each class borderline crushing, but it was getting hard to even keep the classes straight. The jargon between each was so similar, two of them shared a textbook, and each one had hours of homework each night.

Right now you were hunched over a table in Heimerdinger's classroom, staring down at your schedule and notes and attempted organization of the three classes, your hands buried in your hair. You were trying to decide if the page numbers scribbled into the edge of your notes with ‘4 EnviSci’ under it was for your Oceanic or General Envi-Sci class. Your focus, paired with the headphones you were wearing, prevented you from noticing when Viktor took his seat next to you. It took a moment, but when you finally did notice his movement out of the corner of your eye, you flinched hard.

“Sorry,” He laughed, eyes wide as you clutched at your chest, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Christ, you’re quiet,” You tried to joke, shaking off the startled moment and dropping your headphones onto the table.

“I said good morning and your name,” He told you, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh…” You felt your cheeks go red, “Goodmorning, sorry.”

“It is fine,” He shook his head, then craned his neck to look at the papers in front of you, “What are you so focused on, anyway?”

“My schedule from hell,” You groaned, dragging your hands down your face, you slid the papers over to show him, “I’ve fucked myself.”

“Not in the fun way?” He smirked.

“Ew, shut up,” You scoffed, swatting at his arm.

“Sorry, sorry,” He chuckled, halfway dodging away halfway taking the hit, “What is wrong with your schedule?”

“It’s just so hard to keep straight,” You sighed, “Like, yesterday I gave my Gen EnviSci homework to my Oceanic EnviSci professor and didn’t realize until it was way too late.”

“Hm, yeah, that's not great,” He agreed, “But you wanted to take both classes, no?”

“Well, yeah, but-”

“And your advisor approved you for these classes, correct?” He cut you off.

“Well, yes, but-”

“Then, your advisor thinks you are more than capable of taking these classes,” He interrupted again, his force was only encouraging, “Why are you doubting yourself?”

You sighed as you looked down at you. The question was one hundred percent genuine. He was waiting for an answer.

“I…I don’t know,” You picked at the edge of the table, chewing on the inside of your cheek, “It’s just harder than I thought it was gonna be.”

“Ha, that’s what she said,” Jinx snorted as she slid into her seat across from you. Ekko rolled his eyes as he took his seat.

“Good morning Jinx,” You scoffed, “Thank you for your seven A.M. humor.”

“Anytime,” She blew you a kiss as she pulled her laptop out of her bag.

Your conversation with Viktor died as class started. You did your best to focus on the current lecture instead of dwelling on your tangled schedule.

----

You were grateful that Heimerdinger had planned a lab for the second half of class today. Heimerdinger had reasoned that it had been many months since most of the class had even stepped foot into a lab. He planned a simple titration experiment as a warm-up to the more complex projects that were to come. The groups shuffled into the crisp white lab, following Hiemerdinger as he reminded everyone about lab safety and personal protection equipment. He explained that the experiment would be straightforward but most likely take the whole two hours. He instructed the groups to split into pairs or trios to ensure that everyone took a hands-on role in the experiment. As he set everyone loose, he encouraged people to take their time and ask for help if needed.

You were glad this was a low stress lab, it gave you the perfect opportunity to assess Viktor. For as long as you had been studying science, from highschool to internship settings, it was these moments where you could tell alot about a man. You couldn’t count the amount of times a guy who seemed incredibly kind and respectful showed you how truly misogynistic and vile he really was during a lab. It wasn’t like you wanted Viktor to do something wrong, but it would definitely be easier to rid him from your thoughts if he turned out to be a dick.

“Hey, are you going to Cait’s house tonight?” Jinx asked you as your group headed to don PPE.

“Yeah, I was planning on it,” You told her, picking out a lab coat from the rack, “Are you?”

“Jayce is cooking, of course I'm going,” She snorted, and then jabbed Viktor in the ribs, “I’m assuming you’ll be there, too. Ya know, since it’s your house.”

He just nodded and hummed as he pulled on his own lab coat and safety glasses.

“Listen, I’m voting for a horror movie tonight,” Jinx told you, then pointed between you and Viktor as she walked away, “And you two should back me up on that.”

You shook your head, watching as she retreated back to the table with Ekko.

“So, partner,” Viktor said, looking down at you, “Do you wanna set up the burette or get the liquids?”

“Hm, I’ll set up the burette, if that's okay?” You asked as you reached the table.

“Perfect, I’ll be right back,” he grabbed the list of materials from the table and went off to gather what was needed.

Luckily - unfortunately?- the lab went perfect. Viktor was an incredible lab partner. He told you everything he was thinking, asked for your ideas and opinions, stepped in when you seemed hesitant about something, and let you help him when he was unsure. You two worked together perfectly, completely in sync as you worked through the lab and moved on to the equations. In the end, you and him ended up being the first pair to finish.

“No fair,” Jinx whined from across the table, four flasks of bright pink liquid spread between her and Ekko, “How are y’all done so fast?”

“Probably because they didn’t purposefully add too much titration because it made a pretty color,” Ekko groaned, rubbing his forehead on the back of his wrists.

“Well, there’s no point if I’m not gonna have fun, “ Jinx defended herself, picking up an oversaturated flask and swirling the bright pink liquid around, “Besides, only the first two were on purpose.”

“Good job, Partner,” You said, holding out a fist to him as you both started cleaning up the experiment.

He tapped his knuckles against yours, amused, “You too,”

You grinned at him as you gathered glassware to wash. When everything was cleaned up and put away, the area was nearly better than how you found it. Before you finally packed up to leave the lab, you caught a glimpse of the notes Viktor had taken to turn in and froze.

“Oh, uh hey Viktor?” You asked, tilting your head down at the paper and squinting. His handwriting was completely and utterly unintelligible.

“Hm?” He asked absentmindedly, putting his things away in his bag.

“Actually, I don’t think we should leave just yet,” You blurted out, trying to think of a way to do this nicely, “Would it be cool if we stayed to type up the notes? Uh, you know, just in case something happens to these ones.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, seeing right through the lie, “You think my handwriting is bad.”

“What? No!” You squeaked, “No,I just think it’s a good idea to have a backup, just in case.”

“Okay, well if it's not about my handwriting,” He stood and pushed the paper into your hands, “You can go ahead and type them up if you want.”

He walked away as you stared down at the pages. It wasn’t that his handwriting was bad, it was that it was too good. His words were in a sweeping and slanted cursive, written fast enough to smear the pen ink. HIs equations were crystal clear and everything else felt like trying to read a letter from the 1800s. Before you knew it Viktor was already out of the lab. The tapping of his cane got fainter as he moved farther away.

“Wait!” You yelped, walking as fast as you could through the lab without getting in trouble, trying to follow him into the main classroom. He was nearly out the door when you caught up to him, hissing, “Viktor, wait!”

“Admit you think my handwriting is bad, and I’ll help you,” He said, turning and looking at you calmly.

“I…ugh, fine,” You dropped your head sheepishly, giving in, “Listen, it’s not that your handwriting is bad, I just… can’t read it.”

He hummed, narrowing his eyes at you, searching for a lie.

“Really, I swear,” You told him, “If anything, your handwriting is actually gorgeous, I am just inept.”

“Okay okay, calm down,” He waved off your flattery, “Fine, I’ll read it, you type it.”

“Thank you,” You sighed, following him to your table in the empty classroom.

You pulled out your laptop, swiping away the pages of scheduling notes you had closed in it earlier that day. Viktor picked one of them up, glancing over it.

“You know, I didn’t get to tell you earlier,” He said, catching your eye and giving a small smile, “But I think you are very intelligent, and also very capable.”

“Oh, uh, thanks,” You fumbled as your entire face went red.

“I mean it,” He told you, in all honesty, “You’re very smart, and I think you are causing yourself undue stress over your classes.”

“Viktor, it’s fine, really,” You tried to stop him, feeling exposed by his adulation.

“All I’m saying is,” He sighed trying to find the right words, “I haven’t known you for very long, but you seem like the type of scientist who wants to do real good in the world, but you can’t do that if you burn yourself out in the first two semesters of junior year.”

You stared at him with wide eyes and swallowed hard, hoping he couldn’t tell that you were willing tears not to well, “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” he nodded and then turned away to look down at his paper, “Ready to type?”

“Uh, yeah,” You opened up a document, “Yeah, go ahead.”

As he began reading, you shook your head slightly, trying to shake the feeling he left you with. Stupid perfect lab partner.

----

After classes, the drive to the Rune Street house was quick. Luckily, your last class ended in time for you to get through the neighborhood without having to wait in school zone traffic. An old BMW wagon was sitting in the driveway next to Jayce’s Pruis, you didn’t recognize it.

You didn’t bother to knock when you went inside, “It’s me!” you shouted as you dropped your bag into the hall closet. The house smelled like spices and chiles.

“In here!” Jayce called back from the kitchen, you found him practically up to his elbows in masa.

“Starting already?” You leaned your back against the counter, watching as he tried to wrangle the dough into the bowl.

“Hey! Yeah, full house tonight. Wanted to get a jump on it, ” He shrugged, washing the dough off his hands and wrists.

“Ah, smart,” You nodded, looking around the kitchen for something to do, “Hey, who’s Beamer is out front?”

“It’s V’s,” He nodded behind you, you turned your neck to see the aforementioned roommate walking out of his room and towards the kitchen with an empty mug in his hand. He was wearing a pair of narrow wire rimmed glasses, a new addition since you last saw him this morning.

“Ha, makes sense,” You smirked at him, trying not to react to the way he looked in the glasses that would look lame on anyone else, or the fact that he drives a manual. Both of which made you feel a very particular sort of way.

“What’s that supposed to mean,” Viktor scoffed, tossing a tea bag into the trash and slotting the mug into the dishwasher.

“Nothing, it’s just very European of you,” You teased, moving to lean your hip against the counter so you could see both men, “that’s all.”

Viktor settled on the other side of the kitchen peninsula, opening up a book that was sitting there, “Hm, I’m not going to hold back on the American jokes if that’s how you’re going to act.”

“I dare you,” You narrowed your eyes on him, hoping he would take the joke as it was.

He returned the look, chewing on the inside of his lip before huffing and rolling his eyes.

“When did you two meet?” Jayce asked with a laugh, reminding you he was there.

“We’re in the same-”

“Friday night at the party-”

You and Viktor spoke at the same time. You couldn't help the shocked way you looked at him, Jayce did not need to know that.

“What?”

“We met at the party,” You jumped in, throwing a pointed look at Viktor, then laughed, “Shared a joint, but not names.”

You hoped Viktor would stick to the half lie.

“Mhm, and she transferred into my OChem class this week,” Viktor nodded, luckily not elaborating on your explanation, “Connected some dots.”

“Oh cool,” Jayce beamed, his puppy dog energy not catching whatever tension might be showing, “Sorry I didn’t get to introduce you guys, it’s cool you have class together.”

“Yeah, we’re in a group with Jinx and Ekko,” You told him, feeling in the clear about your secret not getting out. You flipped the subject anyways, just in case, “Is there anything I can help with?”

“Hm,” Jayce looked around the kitchen, thinking, “Filling is cooking right now. I was planning to make rice later and pico, too. I’ll need help putting everything together later, though.”

“Okay, cool.” You figured you could get your homework done before everyone showed up.

“Yeah. Did you get the husks, by the way?” He asked, wiping down the counter.

“Uh…” You narrowed your eyes at him, searching through your memory, “I would have if you had asked me to.”

“I did ask you to!” Jayce huffed, looking at you disappointed.

“Dude, when?” You didn’t even know he was planning to make tamales until you had walked in.

“Last night,” He crossed his arms over his chest, you resisted the urge to call him your mother, “I texted you.”

“Bro, no the fuck you didn’t,” You insisted, then turned to Viktor, “Do you know your roommate is delusional?”

“Do not drag me into this,” Viktor said, glancing up over the top of his glasses.

“I did,” Jayce argued, pulling out his phone, “You just never check your messages.”

He wasn’t wrong, you weren’t the most reliable at checking your text notifications, but you were sure he hadn’t texted you last night….well mostly sure. Jayce opened up his phone, tapping through it with purpose. Out of the corner of your eye you could tell that Viktor was poorly pretending to not care. When the smug look fell from Jayce’s face, you cackled. Without saying anything, Jayce grabbed his keys from the counter and walked towards the front door.

“I fucking told you.” You called after him, wiping a tear away as you laughed. You turned to Viktor, “He’s such a brat.”

“Eh,” He shrugged, trying to act like he wasn’t biting back his own grin.

Before you could tease him as well, your phone rang. Jayce’s photo on the screen.

“Have you even left the driveway?” You asked, rolling your eyes.

“Make the pico please,” Jayce told you, you could picture the defeat on his face, “And keep an eye on the chicken.”

“Hmm, that doesn’t sound like an apology,” You pulled a cutting board out of the cabinet anyways, “But! If you get me and Viktor drinks on the way back, you’ve got a deal.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow at you, you exaggerated a wink in response.

“That is exploitation, but fine.” Jayce huffed, “text me if we need anything else from the store.”

You laughed to yourself as he hung up, sure you’d never get tired of bickering with Jayce. He made you feel like you had a sibling sometimes. You gathered what you needed for the salsa. Jayce had made it with you enough times now that a recipe was unnecessary. When you were sure all the ingredients were present and you wouldn’t need Jayce to pick anything else up, you started to put everything together. You stood at the kitchen peninsula so that Viktor was sitting almost directly across from you. Taking advantage of the moment, you let yourself stare at him. The glasses were a…good look, for sure. The harsh black lines of the frames stood out against his pale skin. They were slid down the ridge of his nose, the edge of the frame rested just under the mole on his cheek. His eyelashes brushed against the top of his cheeks every time he blinked. He scrunched his nose just slightly as he read a sentence, eyes not moving from where they were focused as he read the same sentence again. And again.

“So, what’re you pretending to read?” You asked as you began cutting the chiles.

“Hm, interesting accusation.” He snorted without looking up, flipping the page.

“Viktor, honey, that’s the first time you’ve flipped the page in 10 minutes,” You raised an eyebrow.

He squinted at you, “I’m a slow reader…”

“Uh-huh, sure you are,” You smirked at him, teasing, “If you wanted to hang out with me you could've just said so.”

“You’re…” He narrowed his eyes, you wished you could see the list of things he wanted to call you, “somewhat self-obsessed, aren’t you?” is what he settled on.

“Yeah probably,” you shrugged, scraping the chile seeds into the trash, “gotta be sometimes.”

“Interesting philosophy,” He closed the book anyway, leaning towards you on his elbows.

“You could call it that, sure,” You rinsed your hands in the sink, trying to ward off the sting of the chile seeds, “Hey, text Jayce and tell him to get me an iced strawberry matcha, yeah? And let him know what you want, too.”

“You’re gonna hold him to that?” He pulled his phone out anyway.

“Yeah of course,” You started chopping again, “Honestly, I’m rarely right when it comes to Jayce. Gotta take advantage, ya know.”

“Huh, very big of you to admit that,” He muttered, tapping away on his screen.

“And you said I was self-obsessed,” You scoffed and then leaned over the counter, trying to peek at his phone screen, “What’d you ask him for?”

“Eh, same thing,” He shrugged, setting his phone to the side and focusing his attention back on you, “You and Jayce are close friends?”

“Yeah, of course,” You told him, nodding firmly, “One of my closest friends.”

“How’d you meet him?” He asked.

“If you’re gonna interview me, at least help,” You gathered up a second cutting board and knife, sliding it across the counter to him with an onion, “We met freshman year. We lived in the same hall. That’s how most of us became friends.”

“Ah, makes sense. So your living situation is what made everyone friends?,” He picked up the knife, and chopped the onion into quarters.

“Kinda,” You shrugged, “Jayce and Cait knew each other before coming to Piltover, so they roomed together, and Me, Lest, and Mel were put in a triple next door. Vi didn’t live on our floor, but her and Cait started on and off dating pretty quick.”

“Hm, I didn’t realize Cait and Vi’s relationship was like that,”

“Yeah, key- word was,” You told him, “No one will admit or talk about it, but their relationship started off pretty toxic. It got better after freshman year, thank god.”

He nodded, thinking about it.

“Don’t tell anyone I said that, yeah?” You asked, “It doesn't matter now anyways, they’re better, clearly.”

“Said what?” He raised an eyebrow at you, then, “What about the others?”

“What do you mean?”

“So, you lived with Mel and Lest, Cait and Jayce lived next door, and Cait started dating Vi,” He waved the knife around slightly while speaking, “How do you know Sky? And Jinx and Ekko?”

“Jayce had a class with Sky and just ended up dragging her along, she’s always been a bit of an outlying friend in the group. Not because we don’t want her around, she’s just a little more introverted than the rest of us,” You explained, “She seems to be breaking out of her shell a little bit this semester, though, which is nice to see.”

“She is very nice, I do like having her around,” He mused, you bit back a jealous comment. You turned him down, you didn’t get to have an opinion on who he liked having around.

“Yeah, she’s great. And Jinx is Vi’s sister, she’s two years younger but graduated highschool early.” You dumped the first handfuls of diced chiles into a bow, “She was a little hesitant of us at the beginning of last year. She wasn’t a huge fan of Cait, but she came around. Honestly, I probably spend more time with Jinx than I do with Cait at this point. Ekko, too. Him and Jinx grew up together, they’re practically attached at the hip.”

You stopped talking, staring down at your hands for a moment as you realized how long you had rambled.

“Ha, and you didn’t really ask for all that information,” You laughed awkwardly, “Sorry.”

“I don’t mind the details,” He assured you, you felt his eyes on your face until you looked up, no sarcasm when he said, “besides, I like listening to you talk.”

You hid your burning face by looking back down, intensely focused on the task in front of you.

“Don’t tell me that,” You tried to joke, but it was weak, “I’ll never shut up.”

He hummed quietly to himself, pleased with your reaction to him. You half expected a teasing remark, instead he asked, “What about you?”

“What?” You asked, not looking up at him.

“What about you?” He asked again, “You’re telling me about the others, but not really yourself. Where are you from?

“Why do you want to know?” You went back to cutting, eyes focusing on your hands.

“Because I do,” He shrugged, “I’m a scientist, I like to know things.”

“Huh, that’s a fair enough reason I guess,” You didn’t necessarily see the harm in telling him, but the more he knew about you the harder it would be to create distance, “I’m from here, and Maine.”

“You’re from two places?”

“I lived here when I was kid and moved to Winter Harbor when I was, like, 11,” You explained, “So, two places, yeah.”

“Why’d you move?”

“Why does anyone move at 11?” You laughed, “Because my dad did.”

“Your parents are divorced?” He guessed, pulling the bowl of chile’s towards him to scrape some of the onion in.

“Aren’t everyones,” You joked, hoping it watered down the bitterness, “I don’t mind it really. I had to go back and forth a lot until I was 16, which is really the only part that sucked. When I was old enough to work, I stopped having to go for summers and it was better.”

“Ah, so you live with…your father?”

“Yep,” You started in on the tomatoes, trying to find a serrated knife to use with no luck.

“You don’t like your mother?” The invasive question didn’t feel so invasive when he asked it.

“I love my mom,” You said, not meeting his eyes.

“Love her, but do not like her,” He concluded.

“That sounds so awful of me, but…”

“I don’t think so,” He shrugged, “You don’t get to choose your family, it makes sense not to like them 100% of the time.”

“I guess…” You frowned down at your hands, struggling to cut through the vegetable with the flat knife, “Still feel guilty about it, though.”

“Can I ask why you don’t like her?” This question was more hesitant, clearly curious to know but not expecting you to answer.

“I shouldn’t talk bad about her, she tries, ya know. But she’s just never….” You searched your brian for the right word to describe your mothers behaviors, “content.”

“Hm, how so?” He took the bowl again.

“Nothing is ever good enough for her,” You tried to explain, “My dad wasn’t enough, the east coast wasn’t enough, her second husband wasn’t enough, I’m not enough.” You laughed, not able to hide the acid in your voice, “Honestly, I’m sure she’ll decide that her new husband isn’t good enough for her either in a few years. And, yes I understand that people should have what they want and shouldn’t settle for less or whatever, but she wants too much and when you give it to her she just wants more.”

You struggled to saw through the tomato as you spoke. Your voice and irritation both raised until finally the knife slipped and skidded across your skin. You gasped, rant dying mid breath as you watched blood spring from the slice in your hand.

“Ah, you should have used a serrated knife,” Viktor pointed out absentmindedly, leaning over to look at your hands.

Your whole body tensed, frozen in place as your breathing became short and harsh. You wanted to move, to stop your blood from spilling over your skin and onto the cutting board, to do anything, but you were stuck. Fully paralyzed as more and more covered your fingers, your ears began to ring.

“Hey” Viktor waved a hand at you, calling your name as he tried to get your attention, “Are you okay?”

You couldn’t speak. You didn’t register that he had moved, but suddenly he was next to you. His fingers wrapped around your wrist and he pulled you towards the kitchen sink. The splash of cold water against your skin ripped you back to earth.

“Ah, fuck,” You hissed, trying to pull your hand away. The cut in your skin burned under the sink faucet, but he didn’t let you go.

“Stop, let me help you,” He scolded, hands still gentle.

“Ow, god, fuck that hurts,” You whined, pressing your face into the side of his arm, not wanting to look at your own hand. You fisted her hand around the back of his shirt, holding on to him like you would fall through the earth if you didn’t.

“Shh, it’s not that bad, just breathe,” His voice was soft and reassuring as he pulled your hand from under the water. You could feel him pull it closer to his face to inspect the damage.

Your eyes were screwed shut, face still pressed into him. You did as he asked and pulled in a deep breath, trying to level yourself out. The scent of him filled your head, black tea and citrus and honey. You took another breath, focusing your attention on him instead of your own body. You could feel his muscles move where your forehead was pressed to him, his shoulder blades under your fingers. Solid and strong and sturdy next to your shaking body.

“Yeah, there you go, just keep breathing.” He put your hand under the water for a few more seconds, then shut it off, “I’m gonna put pressure, okay.”

You nodded, sucking in a breath and bracing against him as he pressed a towel against your skin. You bit your lip, trying to hold back the pathetic whimper it forced out of you. You were hyper aware of the tightness of your skin where the cut was, working yourself up again.

“Hey, you’re doing fine,” He told you, holding the cloth tight to your skin, “It won’t even need stitches, I promise.”

You nodded, timing your breathing with his. Neither of you had heard the front door open or the commotion of Cait and Vi coming into the house.

“Woah, what’s going on here?” Vi laughed awkwardly, unsure what they had walked in on.

“She cut her hand,” Viktor told them, not moving from where he stood, “Cait, is there a first aid kit somewhere?”

“Yes, one second,” You heard her hurry away.

“You good?” Vi asked from outside the kitchen, unsure of how to help.

“Yep,” You squeaked out, unmoving aside from throwing Vi a blind thumbs up.

“Here it is,” You heard Cait come back into the kitchen, “How bad is it? What do you need, Viktor?”

“It’s not too bad,” He told her, you flattened your hand against his back, feeling him move when he spoke, “Just some butterfly strips if there are any, and maybe a roll of gauze”

“Yeah, here,” Cait rustled around in the kit for a moment, setting out what Viktor asked for, “Do you need any help?”

“I can handle it, thank you,” Viktor assured her.

“Sure, shout if you need anything, okay?” Cait told him, voice retreating.

You were glad she didn’t insist, already embarrassed enough by your reaction in front of Viktor. More witnesses weren’t necessary. Viktor adjusted, moving so his arm was over your shoulder to get a better grip on your hand. You let him move you around, pressing your cheek to the back of his shoulder, still breathing him in as he pinned you to his side.

“I’m sorry,” You told him, letting out a shaky breath.

“Hm, you don’t need to be sorry,” You felt his thumb rub gently against your wrist, not to help the wound on your hand, just trying to calm you down.

“This was over dramatic,” You scoffed, pressing your nose hard against him, trying to hide, “...I just don’t like blood.”

“Clearly,” He laughed gently, “lots of people don’t. I’m gonna put the bandaid on it, okay?”

You nodded, grateful for the warning. His hands were gently as he secured the cut and wrapped the gauze around it.

“There,” He said, pulling away from you, “All fixed.”

“Thank you,” You said, stepping back and examining his handiwork. The gauze banded around your hand was laid perfectly, smoothly hiding any evidence of the incident.

“You’re welcome,” He nodded, “Does it feel okay? It’s not too tight?”

“No, it’s perfect,” You smiled weakly up at him, still red in the face.

“I’m glad I was here,” He joked,“Seems like you would have bled out otherwise.”

You shook your head with a laugh, “Yeah, probably,”

He took a step over, putting himself between the counter and you, “Don’t panic, but there is blood on the counter. Do you want to go sit down while I clean it up?”

“Oh, gross,” You cringed, “No, I can clean it up.”

“Are you sure?” He held a hand out to the side, as if to catch you were you to faint.

“Yeah,” You assured him, “I’m good now, I’m okay.”

He let you step past him to get to the counter. There was less blood than you had expected, which did nothing to ease the embarrassment of your dramatics. Carefully you dropped the knife into the sink and scrapped the mutilated tomato into the trash. Viktor, unable to not help, grabbed a rag and wiped down the counter. You turned the hot water on, rinsing away the tomato seeds and drops of blood. It wasn’t until you stepped away from the counter that you noticed the smear of blood across the bottom of your t-shirt.

“Aw fuck,” You pouted, pulling the fabric away to look at it. The stain wasn’t huge, but it was obvious against the light colored fabric. It made your stomach turn to see your own blood so bright on your clothes.

“You have bad luck with stains in this house,” He told you, taking a second to pick up on your unease, “Do you want to borrow a shirt?”

“Oh, uh, yes,” You admitted, chewing on your bottom lip, “If that’s okay.”

“Wouldn't have offered if it wasn’t okay,” He told you, already grabbing his cane from where he had rested it against the cabinet and heading out of the kitchen.

You followed him to his room just off the main living space. It was your room from the summer. Except it wasn’t your room, not at all. You had been living awkwardly out of a pair of suitcases for 4 weeks. This was Viktor’s room.

You hadn’t known him long enough to even think about what his room would be like, but you were sure you would have been exactly right. It was very him. Tidy and warm, posters and art on the walls placed perfectly, bed made, shoes lined up by the door. The only part of the room that wasn’t neat was his desk and what seemed to be a work table. Both covered in papers and books and pieces of machines.

You stood there awkwardly in the middle of his room, watching as he dug through his dresser to find you something to wear. He pulled out a navy t-shirt and brought it to you.

“If I let you borrow this,” He said, pulling it just out of reach, “You must promise to bring back my other one.”

“What?” You narrowed your eyes at him, hand frozen halfway to the shirt.

“The other night, it wasn’t Jayce’s shirt that you took,” He teased, biting back a smirk when your jaw fell open.

“Dude, what the fuck,” You felt heat creeping up your cheeks again, your shoulders curled up as you shrank away from him, “Why didn’t you say it was yours?”

“Eh, you looked good in it,” He shrugged, holding the shirt out to you.

You rolled your eyes with a huff. Then, deciding you wouldn’t let this be a one sided game, straightened your shoulders and looked Viktor in the eyes.

“So, you like seeing me in your clothes?” You asked, tilting your head and furrowing your eyebrows slightly at him.

He practically took a step back, startled by your change in demeanor. Before he could respond you pulled your shirt over your head, staring him in the face as you shook your hair out. He sucked in a hash breath, eyes wide and mouth open as he looked at you. He swallowed hard, gaze traveling across your torso and face turning pink. You couldn't help the childish pride as you watched him falter.

“So the braless look this weekend was a style choice?” He joked with a nervous laugh, following the lines of your plain bra.

“Yep,” You reached out, trying to take the shirt from his hand, but he pulled it away again.

You followed, stepping closer as you tried to get it. Your hand followed it past his shoulder until he was close enough to land a hand on your bare waist.

“Viktor, give it to me.” You warned, as he kept the shirt out of your reach.

“Was this from me?” He breathed, completely ignoring your request as he brushed his fingers across the bruises on your hip.

“Duh, who else?” You snarked, freezing under his hand, “Very rude to leave marks on someone without asking, by the way.”

He scoffed, and pulled the collar of his shirt down to show a matching bruise on his collarbone, “You are one to talk.”

“Not my fault you bruise easy,” You shrugged, trying to keep your voice steady as he traced a line between each mark on your body. You shuddered when he pressed into his own teeth marks on your shoulder, deciding that was enough.

You gave one last reach and snatched the shirt out of his hand, taking a few steps away from him. You squeezed your eyes shut with your back to him, willing every feeling in your body to stop. You focused your attention on the t-shirt, unfolding it to see it was an old camp shirt. Poradce was in small white letters on the left chest of the shirt, and the back had a logo of an atom and Sýkora printed across the back. You pulled it on, doing your best to hide any reaction to him giving you a shirt with his last name on it.

“Science camp?” You asked, pulling your hair out from the neckline as you raised an eyebrow at him.

“I was a counselor,” He told you, seeming to recover from whatever had just occurred, “Paid well and looks good on applications.”

“Fair,” you nodded at him, also feeling the tension ebb away.

“Plus, teaching children how to make small explosives is entertaining,” He admitted with a smile.

You laughed at the mental image, “You’ll have to tell Jinx about that, she will demand you teach her.”

“Hm, I believe that would make me an accomplice in whatever she decides to do with that knowledge,” He cringed, laughing with you.

“Uh, thanks again for the shirt,” You said,trying to fill the almost awkward silence.

“Of course. Sorry for making you talk about your mom, by the way,” He twisted his cane on the ground, “I feel bad about that.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it,” You placed your hand on his wrist, stopping his movement, “Really, it’s fine. Not your fault that I get a little crazy whenever I think about her.”

“Yeah, well now I know not to ask you about things like that when you have a knife in your hand,” He laughed, “I’m lucky you didn’t stab me.”

“Next time I will,” You raised your eyebrows with the light threat.

You wondered if you were looking up at him the way he was looking down at you, pupils blown, cheeks dusted a pretty pink, lips slightly parted. You opened your mouth to say something, not anything in particular just something to keep him looking at you. Before you could think of something to say that wouldn’t make you sound unintelligent, movement out of the corner of your eye caught your attention.

“Is that a snake?” You gasped, stepping around him to get a better look.

The large tank was set around the corner of his L shaped room, just out of sight from where you were standing. A small pink snake was moving across a branch leaning against the glass. You crouched down, looking at her through the glass. She was young and a pale pink color, her eyes the bright red that animals with albinism have.

“That’s Rio,” He said, walking up next to you and crouching down to look at her.

“She’s gorgeous,” You smiled at the snake, moving to get a better look at her, “Is she young?”

“Yeah, she hit four months a couple days ago,” He told you, you could see him watching you in the reflection, “Do you want to hold her?”

“Can I?” You felt like a kid.

“Yeah, of course,” He laughed, straightening up and moving to the front of her tank, “She’s very sociable, likes to be held.” He opened the tank from the front, sliding the glass open.

Slowly he reached in, “Pojď sem,” He muttered, coaxing her out and into his hand. She moved calmly across his hands, looking around as he brought her to his chest. He smiled down at her fondly, as she moved across his shirt. He motioned you closer with a free finger, using his other hand to steer her away from his face.

“She’s so pretty,” You marveled, taking a closer look at the pattern on her back, “Is she a corn snake? I’ve never seen a snake this color before.”

“Yeah, she’s a salmon snow corn snake. It’s a gene mutation,” He explained, pulling her off his glasses, “A homozygous red factor that makes her very pink, she’ll probably get more color as she gets older. You can pet her, she’ll probably crawl into your hands when she realizes you're there.”

“So cool,” You breathed, reaching out for her.

Gently you brushed your hand against her back, her smooth scales were warm under your fingers. She turned her head towards you, slowly moving to your palm. Viktor helped her into your hands, holding on until she was cradled against you. She immediately wrapped herself around your wrist, and wriggled up the borrowed shirt.

You laughed, letting her move towards your face. She bumped against your cheek, tongue flicking out curiously, “Sorry Rio, no glasses to chill on.”

You pulled her away from your face, watching as she moved between your hands and around your arms.

“She likes you,” He told you. You raised an eyebrow at him not convinced, “No, really, she has a lot of personality for a snake. Very selective on who she decides to like.”

“Yeah, I’m sure me wearing your shirt has nothing to do with it,” You rolled your eyes, grinning up at him.

“Just let me compliment you, okay?” He huffed, reaching out to pet Rio.

“Fine, I’lll accept that I’m your snake’s new favorite person,” You joked.

“Hey, I don’t know about favorite,” He backtracked with a laugh, smirking down at you.

He was as close as you could be to you without squishing Rio between your bodies. Hand under yours, to support the pet of course, no other reason. In this moment - wearing his t-shirt, in his room, holding his pet, sharing his space - you knew for a fact that he was going to cause a lot of trouble in your life.

The sound of people arriving in the house pulled you away from the thought

“Viktor!?” Jayce shouted from the living room.

“In here!” He called back, not looking away from you. You looked back down at Rio, watching her in an attempt to hide the heat in your face.

“Oh, hey guys…” Jayce said, a hint of confusion in his voice as finding you arguably very close to Viktor in his room.

“She’s meeting Rio,” Viktor told him, taking a step back so you could turn to face Jayce.

“She’s so cute,” You told him, turning to show the small snake in your hands.

Jayce grimaced, “Yeah, sure.”

“No fucking way you don’t like her,” You gasped a his distaste.

“I’m sorry,” He shrugged, “I don’t understand the appeal of a predatory reptile.”

“Did you just call this actual angel a predator?” You gawked, carefully holding Rio up towards him.

“That’s exactly what it is,” He affirmed, “Your tea is on the counter, did you finish making the pico?”

“Rude,” Viktor muttered, gently taking Rio from your hands, holding her up to his face and telling only her, “You are not a predatory, moje malá princezna.”

“Not yet,” You waved your bandaged hand at him as Viktor placed Rio back in her tank, “Little mishap.”

“Jesus christ, are you okay?” He asked as you and Viktor walked out of the room.

“I’m fine, just dramatic,” You admitted with a laugh, grabbing the matcha Jayce had brought for you and handing the other to Viktor.

“Very dramatic,” Viktor agreed, side eyeing you as he took a sip of the tea.

“Hm, wanna finish it up while I get everything else ready?” He said, eyeing the lack of space between your shoulder and Viktor’s.

“Yeah, for sure,” You took a step away, hating yourself over the fact that you missed the rush of being close to him.

“Cait’s home, by the way,” Viktor told Jayce, hanging his cane on the counter and settling back into one of the stools where his book was, “With Vi.”

“Oh cool,” Jayce pulled what he needed out of the fridge to assemble the tamales, “Mel said she’s on her way with Lest and Sky.”

“Good,” You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek and reminding yourself that Sky was a friend that you loved very much and you weren’t allowed to have an ounce of animosity towards her, “Should be done pretty quick.”

You pulled the bowl of chopped chiles and onion out of the fridge and gathered tomatoes to cut. One short.

“In the dishwasher,” Viktor said, watching you from across the counter.

You raised an eyebrow at him.

“The serrated knife is in the dishwasher,” He told you, more caring than mocking when he said, “Don’t use a flat blade.”

“Thanks,” You pulled the knife out of the dishwasher and hand cleaned it in the sink before starting to dice the tomatoes. A much easier task with the proper tool.

You were normally more than comfortable in Jayce’s presence, but right now you felt less welcoming. You wanted to be around just Viktor. You wanted to talk to him however you wanted, about whatever you wanted. You didn’t want to create space between you and, for a moment, you resented Jayce for making you feel like you needed to.

All bad signs. You turned Viktor down. You didn’t want to date him. You didn’t want to sleep with him. You didn’t want to kiss him.

All lies. You could do all those things right now if you let yourself. You wouldn’t though. Letting yourself get tangled in relationships with a classmate caused nothing but problems for you in the past. It was the one agreement you made with yourself, you had to be strong enough not to break it.

“You’re going to cut yourself again,” Viktor’s calm voice pulled you out of thought, he was barely even looking up at you over the rim of his glasses, eyes flickering down to the knife dangerously close to your fingertips. He raised an eyebrow, a silent question. You hated how readable you apparently were.

You set the knife down on the cutting board, staring down at the seeds and flesh. You heaved a sigh, picked up the board, and moved to the other side of the kitchen. Facing away from Viktor. You couldn’t see him, he didn’t say anything, but you could feel his eyes on your back. You swallowed hard, hating the feeling of being pulled in two conflicting directions.

---

You kept your distance for the rest of the evening, deciding that the acceptable quota of time to be close to him in one day had been used up. Viktor didn’t question you aside from a few narrow eyed looks that you ignored, opting instead to ask Jayce to play music while you and him started the cooking process.

When the girls showed up, it was easier. Lest took up your attention, excitedly telling you about a baseball player she was paired up with in her history class - dumb as a rock, but pretty as all hell - and worried over your hand. Sky squeezed herself into Viktor’s bubble, sitting close to him at the counter. You heard her apologize for being drunk on Friday night, he laughed it off. Called it cute. Luckily, Sky did her best to absorb all of his attention. She made awkward small talk with him, not wanting their somewhat boring conversation to end. It kept you from thinking about him all afternoon…clearly.

At the very least you had managed to avoid his physical presence until after dinner. He sat between Jayce and Sky on one end of the table, while you were at the other. He washed dishes in the kitchen and you wiped down the table in the dining room. You helped Cait set up the living room and he helped Jayce connect his laptop to the TV.

It wasn’t until the movie was decided on and everyone began settling down into the living room that an afternoon of self restraint came to an end.

Of all the space in the living room, Viktor decided the only place he wanted to sit was directly next to you. Something that seemed like nothing to anyone else, including Sky who took up his other side. You didn’t miss the look Lest gave as she sat down on your other side or the way Viktor knocked his knee against yours with controlled force.

“You like horror movies?” He asked you casually, as if you hadn’t kept him at farther than arm's length for the past couple of hours.

“Yeah, good ones.” You told him with a shrug as the opening credits to The Descent started.

“What constitutes a good one?” He raised an eyebrow, closer to you than you had planned to let him.

“If I like it, then it’s good,” You shrugged, pulling your foot under you.

“Hm, interesting criteria,” He laughed, rolling his eyes at you as everyone else settled into their seats

He didn’t push. Didn’t rest a hand against you or move an arm over your shoulder. He let you exist in peace, your bubbles pressed close but not breached. You managed to reach out to Lest during jump scares, holding on to her hand when your heart jumped. A few times when he flinched you saw his hand hover near yours, just for a second, before he placed it against his braced knee. He picked at the fraying edge of one of the velcro closures, fingers flexing whenever the tension raised on screen.

It wasn’t until a climbing rope was ripped through one of the girls' hands on screen that you gave in. The shot of blood spurting dramatically from her palm made your stomach turn. You gasped and instinctually looked away, pressing your closed eyes against Viktors arm as you cringed. He grabbed your knee then, squeezing gently.

“It’s over,” He whispered close to your head after a moment.

You took a deep breath and looked back up, the image gone from the screen. He retreated his hand from your knee as you relaxed back into watching. Not long after this, Jayce paused the movie, standing up and stretching his back.

“All right, intermission or I’m gonna piss myself,” He said, leaving to use the bathroom.

“Booo,” Vi whined, chucking a pillow at his back as he left. Cait giggled and placed a hand over her girlfriend's mouth.

Lest leaned her head on your shoulder, looking up at you with puppy dog eyes, “Grab me my water bottle?”

“Brat,” You pushed her off, but stood up anyways, “Where is it?”

“In my bag on the hook,” She called after you as you went to get it.

A few of the others hopped up to grab things or readjust how they were sitting. When you handed Lest her water bottle and settled back down into your seat, you felt like you had less space. You couldn’t tell if the cramped feeling was in your head or not, and you decided to ignore it. You pulled your leg back up underneath you and ended up resting the edge of your knee on Viktor’s thigh.

“So, is this a good horror movie based on your criteria?” He asked, not reacting to the contact.

“Eh, hard to say,” You told him with a shrug, “So far it’s good, but it definitely loses points for that rope vs hand situation. Plus, it’s not over. The last, like, twenty minutes are make or break for a horror movie.”

“You’ll have to give me your official opinion at the end,” He said, tapping your knee.

“Don’t worry, Viktor,” Lest said, leaning over you towards him, “She’ll give everyone her opinion when it’s over, she always does.”

“What?” You gasped at your roommate.

“It’s true, you make your opinion very known,” Cait said, standing in front of the couch with her digital camera, “now, smile!”

You flipped her off when the camera flashed. When Jayce got back, everyone settled back in to finish the movie. At some point, you weren’t sure exactly when, but Viktor’s hand found yours in the space created by your knee propped against his thigh. He didn’t react at all, there was no outside sign to anyone else that he was sliding his cold fingers against your palm. You weren’t sure he even knew he was doing it, not until you laced your fingers with his. He took a deep breath, easily playing it off as a reaction to the movie, but you could feel his pulse quicken when you squeezed his hand gently. You stayed like that the rest of the movie, hardly able to focus on anything that was happening on screen with the weight of his hand in yours.

---

On the drive home, you were sure lest was going to explode. She sat in the passenger seat of your tiny pickup truck, practically vibrating as you drove back to campus. Sky leaning against the window in the backseat sleepily. A few times she almost asked. You could see her from the corner of your eye, leaning in, biting at her nail, mouth opening to say something and closing it before she could.

As soon as Sky was out of earshot, up the steps towards her own dorm building, Lest stopped holding back.

“Did you fuck him again?” She hissed, throwing you off balance as she latched onto you

“Jesus Christ Lest,” You grimaced, shoving her off, “No, why would you think that.”

“Because he wouldn't stop looking at you like you’d given him the best head of his life,” She told you matter of factly.

“Okay, first of all, no he wasn’t,” You scoffed, “And second, I told you I turned him down. I’m not planning to go back on that anytime soon.”

“Okay, so you're blind, good to know,” She said, tapping her ID and holding the door open for you, “And does not anytime soon mean sometime in the future?”

“I don’t know, maybe,” You pulled your ears to your shoulders, stomping up the stairs.

“Whatever you say,” She sang as you reached your room. You groaned and dropped yourself face down into your bed, “But I’m not the one wearing his last name on my back."

You stiffened, forgetting about the shirt you were wearing. She had you there, for sure. You realized you hadn’t mentioned it to anyone. You wondered what they thought. If anyone even noticed. You hoped that they had come to the correct conclusion that your shirt was a casualty in the hand accident. Jayce and Cait and Vi were the only ones that knew you were alone with him. The two girls did find you clinging on to him like your life depended on it, and Jayce had found both of you in Viktor’s room. You debated if it was worth it to clarify to the three of them that you and Viktor were not fucking. Then again, if they weren't already thinking that was the case, it would sound very suspicious for you to bring it up.

“I’m gonna go shower,” She told you, gathering her things, “No masterbating while I’m gone.”

“Ew, lest shut the fuck up,” You groaned, flinging a pillow at the door as it closed.

You rolled over in bed, staring up at the ceiling and rubbing the hem of the shirt between your fingers. You had two of his shirts, and now that you were thinking about it, he had two of yours. You gave in to the urge and pulled the neckline of the borrowed shirt to your nose. Unsurprisingly it smelled like him. When you closed your eyes you could picture yourself standing back in his bedroom, as close to him as you wanted to be. The smell of honey and black tea and orange filled your head, an underlying scent of something that was just him. Human and warm and soft.

You pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes, willing away the thoughts of him. You grabbed your phone, hoping for a distraction. You had barely even unlocked it when an Instagram notification sprung up.

kirraman.cait has tagged you in a post

You opened the app to see that Cait had posted the photos she took on her digital camera. They were cute, all time stamped from just a few hours ago. There was a barely focused selfie of Cait and Vi with their cheeks pressed together, and a picture of Jayce, Ekko, and Jinx in the kitchen finishing the tamales, and a few other cute ones that you were going to ask Cait to send you. The last one was of You, Lest, and Viktor sitting on the couch. It was the moment that you had flipped her off, an unamused look on your face as both Viktor and Lest laughed.

He was tagged as well. You stared at the little its_viktor hovering over his head in the photo. You chewed on your lip, debating. It was just social media. It would be weird if you weren't friends online, honestly. You click on his profile, grateful that it was public. Only ten posts and about as many followers as accounts he followed. You clicked on the newest one, a mirror picture of him in his bathroom holding up Rio, no caption but the photo was also his profile picture.

You kept scrolling, there was at least four months between posts, sometimes even a whole year, and most were captionless. One of the few to have a caption was him in a hospital bed, looking fresh out of a surgery and giving a weak thumbs up. The caption read ‘Žil jsem, děvko.’, you snorted when the translation told you it said ‘I lived, bitch.’ in english. The rest were fairly simple. Photos of landscapes, the university he transferred from, a highschool graduation picture, some harmless device he made as a camp counselor, decorated with stickers and plastic gems by whatever kids he was working with.

The very first one was your favorite. A selfie of the 17-year-old versions of Viktor and Jayce. Jayce was holding the camera with one hand and the other arm slung over Viktor’s shoulders, squeezing him close. Both boys beamed at the camera, looking younger than you could even imagine them being. You could tell they were wearing matching t-shirts, probably from the Young Innovators Program they had met in so many years ago. Jayce’s current instagram was tagged in it, and you were a little surprised that you had never come across Viktor’s page before. Maybe you had and just didn’t realize it. The blush across Viktor’s cheeks was endearing, seeing them so close together was sweet. Until today you hadn’t been in the same room with both Jayce and Viktor at the same time. It was a little jarring how different they were, both physically and in personality. In a way, it made sense that they were such good friends.

You double tapped the photo without thinking. A white heart popping up over the photo for half a second. In the other half of that second, your heart dropped.

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.” You muttered, unliking the photo and closing out the app. You dropped your phone on your chest and slung an arm over your eyes, “Fuck!”

Only a second went by before your phone vibrated. You were borderline crushed to see a text from Viktor. His number wasn’t saved in your phone yet, you had been putting it off after Jinx added you to the group chat, but you knew it was him

I saw that.

You debated blocking him, or maybe moving to another state.

I don’t know what ur talking about

You were never going to hear the end of this from Lest.

Ya, sure you don’t.

Only a moment later and a new notification popped up on the top of your screen.

Its_viktor liked your photo

You clicked on the notification. It brought you to one of your posts from almost 3 years ago. It was one from your trip to Greece right after graduation. You were in the ocean, holding onto the side of a paddleboard with one hand with a small red octopus tangling around the other. Your cheeks were red enough to match the cephalopod, but you were smiling wide anyway. Aside from the notification there was no evidence that Viktor had liked the photo.

You opened his profile back up, hit the follow button, and turned your phone off. You laid there staring up at the ceiling and wishing he had been rude about the incident. Of course he wasn’t. He was the perfect fucking lab partner, and he was going to haunt you all semester.

41 notes · View notes

silkscream · 3 days ago

Text

CHAPTER 18: VACILLATOR

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader

You wonder briefly if this is what it’s like to be an imploding star. A supernova collapsing in on itself from the gravity of heaven incarnate.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: mentions of depression, angst, sex, oral sex, fingering

ੈ✩ wc: 6k

ੈ✩ a/n: jesus christ

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

November, 2010

It’s been almost two months since Suguru defected. You and Satoru aren’t exactly coping well.

You find yourself following in Suguru’s footsteps regarding spouts of depression, which weren’t uncommon to you, but Satoru finds that you snap at him more when he tries to get you out of bed. It’s a Herculean effort to do anything, especially when the winter was coming so soon and your behavior towards Satoru was becoming more hostile.

In the back of your mind, you still blamed him, in between blaming yourself for not intervening sooner. Blaming yourself because if you had been different, maybe Suguru would’ve let you in. Wallowing in pity because you could never reach him the way you wanted to, there must be something wrong with you.

You find comfort with Shoko. Since Suguru’s absence, it feels wrong to enjoy yourselves, just the three of you. Satoru had been on a mission during Shoko’s birthday and she didn’t think about having a party anyway.

So you take her out to dinner and share a bottle of expensive and highly alcoholic sake along with a new pack of Seven Stars. You’d been smoking more too, thanks to Shoko. Satoru hates it. He won’t admit that something is exciting about tasting the nicotine on your tongue.

(It reminds him of kissing Suguru. He doesn’t know how to feel about it.)

You’re on the rooftop of one of Jujutsu Tech’s buildings. It’s half past midnight when you suddenly look up at the sky full of stars and gaze at Shoko in slurred elation. You grab her arm and smile.

“Ieiri-san! Happy birthday!”

She laughs. “I told you you don’t need to call me that. It’s been years.”

“I know. But I know you find it funny.”

Shoko shakes her head, but her smile remains. "You're fucking wasted."

You lean against her, feeling the world spin slightly. "Maybe. But at least I'm not as bad as Satoru."

The mention of his name brings a momentary silence between you. Shoko takes a long drag of her cigarette, the ember glowing brightly in the darkness.

"How are things with him?" she asks, her voice low and careful.

You shrug, reaching for the sake bottle. "Same as always. He tries too hard. I push him away. Rinse and repeat."

Shoko gently takes the bottle from your grasp before you can pour another glass. "Maybe you should ease up on him a bit. He's hurting too, you know."

You inhale sharply. “Yeah. I know. I just — feel suffocated by him lately. It’s weird.”

“Because he loves you too much?”

You blink at her. Love. You think of the times Satoru has used that word. The warmth and tenderness of it in his mouth. The image of him saying it feels so foreign. You can only think of his face when he flashes you a heated gaze, that word falling from his tongue against yours while he’s deep inside you.

You shiver, grimacing. “Sure. I guess. Things are still tense after… you know.”

“I miss Suguru, too,” she sighs. You wince inwardly at the sound of his name.

Shoko looks at you knowingly and holds you close, her fingers gently combing through your hair. "It's okay," she murmurs. "It's okay to not be okay."

Something about how she reassures you forces something fragile inside you to break, just the slightest bit. You look up at the stars again, their cold light seeming to mock your pain.

"Do you think he's looking at the same sky right now?" you whisper.

Shoko doesn't answer immediately. When she does, her voice is thick with emotion. "I don't know. I hope so."

You nod, feeling a hollow ache in your chest. "Me too."

As you sit there, leaning against each other under the vast expanse of the night sky, you can't help but wonder if things will ever be the same again. If the wounds left by Suguru's betrayal will ever truly heal. In the depths of your alcohol-hazed mind, a small, traitorous voice whispers that selfishly, maybe you don't want them to.

It’s annoying to talk about it. It’s even more annoying to talk about yourself in general, like pulling teeth to say anything really honest around anyone. Especially around Satoru.

It seems that he’s desperate to pry it out of you. All that sadness. He does it the way he always does, the only way he knows how.

When he returns from missions, he’s desperate for you but teases you enough to make you beg for it. It’s a fucked up way to keep you close, reigning you by the fraying thread binding you together.

It’s fine – a mantra the two of you separately repeat even when it’s not. Satoru is glad enough that you still let him take you apart despite being so distant in every other interaction. You’re quiet during meals, you hole yourself up and throw yourself into your work.

But in the oasis of your bed, he still has you. It’s enough for him, he tries to convince himself. He is so different from Suguru, a direct contrast to him, and it helps you distract yourself. Ironic, considering Satoru was never a distraction for you. He was always at the forefront of everything, the blinding sun in your orbit. Too bright to look away from.

His touch was your constant for the past two years and still is. It’s why you let yourself expect him in the darkness of your room, his oversized sweater drowning you while you wear nothing else.

Satoru is brutish when he touches you, just the way you like it. Sometimes it makes him feel guilty but the look you give him while his hand is wrapped around your throat is too compelling.

For days after Suguru left, he had felt like a monster for complying with your requests to be rough. He’d leave bruises that would stay for days, had even made you bleed because you asked for it.

What surprised him was how willing you would be. He would feel awful, like he had fucked you up in some irrevocable way, but you would calm him with small hands to his cheeks and a kiss on his forehead. You liked the intensity. You needed to feel.

You would push him away in your day-to-day and then tease him in the night, provoke him like he was a stray dog. You needed him angry because you were also angry – at him, at yourself, at the broken world that made Suguru do what he did.

It was odd, the way you and Satoru would lash out at each other. You were always on opposite sides of the same spectrum, always rotating your roles. Distant to suffocating, depending on the day. It would end in you goading him until he bullied his cock inside you, your cunt wet from the frustration of it all.

But even when he would be so harsh in his movements, his cock an impossible force into the tightness of your pussy, he could never fully reach you. Blind with lust, he’d fuck you, crazed by the need to tear you apart as much as you were tearing him apart.

And still, you were disembodied while being entangled with him. No matter how hard he fucked you. He could feel you slipping away so easily, like water through the gaps between his fingers.

Even when he was drunk off of you (he always was), stupidly confessing his love through moans and hurried exclamations of affection, the ebbing of your shared intimacy would shift the two of you away from each other.

He wanted to cradle you but couldn’t break through your shell.

Instead, he would make you cry out, ride the waves of blindingly hot pleasure, the current of it taking you farther and farther from him until you were floating on the nonsense of your preoccupations.

May, 2012

Satoru has to remind himself that he can’t get clingy with you. Not like he’d been before, at least. He also has to remind himself that he can’t keep his distance and pretend you don’t exist. You are a constant in his life.

Unfortunately, you’re maintaining that distance for him.

He’s only going a little insane. He’s gone without sex for longer, but it bothers him more than he can admit when your presence is everywhere and nowhere all at once. It’s been weeks since he’s been able to touch you and it seems that the universe is trying to punish him further.

You’re naturally a workaholic — your final year at Jujutsu Tech has you on more hands-on missions and mentoring younger students. You’re the yin to Shoko’s yang in that way — where she works in her mortuary, you’re studying the fundamentals of cell regeneration and healing in your greenhouse.

Satoru isn’t bitter as you spend more time with her than you do with him, lately. He isn’t, he swears. But when you do end up in his orbit, it’s to spend time with Megumi and Tsumiki more than has anything to do with wanting quality time with him.

You’ve been picking them up from school on days when Satoru is scheduled with missions or training on campus.

Today, he’s delighted to see them at the school, but his mood sours slightly when he sees the three of you interacting with Nanami. Satoru has been trying to calm his possessive streak, but it flares up when you’re around other men. It’s also quite easy to dogpile on his junior anyway.

“Twigs!” Satoru bellows, his tone overly friendly as he comes over to ruffle the kids’ hair. He puts an arm around your waist.

“Uh, hey, Satoru,” you nod, noticing his possessiveness. “I thought you were training?”

“Just taking a break. Nanami should be training, too, hmmmm?” He grins pointedly at Nanami, who in return narrows his eyes.

“I was actually just at the library,” Nanami says. “Doing research on the Heian era.”

“Oh, I did a paper on that last year,” you chime in. “If you’d like, I can—”

“You kids eat yet?” Satoru interrupts, looking down at Megumi and Tsumiki. You frown, noticing his efforts at dismissing Nanami completely.

Megumi and Tsumiki simultaneously say yes, which leads to a frenzied overlap of them bickering about what to get for dinner. You sigh, step off to the side and offer Nanami an apologetic smile.

“I can dig through my stuff and probably find that paper for you.”

“No need,” Nanami smiles. “But thank you.”

“Let’s have a big hot pot dinner!” Satoru claps his hands together. His boisterous behavior is already starting to give you a headache. “Then everyone can get what they want, yeah?”

Without so much as a proper goodbye, Satoru waves to Nanami and ushers the rest of you towards his car. You hated being in it, given that it was far too flashy. Satoru told you he’d gotten it “secondhand” the month before. The vanity plate “6EYEZ” made you beg to differ.

“You’re in a rush for dinner,” you mutter, sliding into the passenger seat. “It’s barely 6 pm.”

“Perfect for dinner time,” Satoru chirps.

You lick your teeth, eyeing him with half annoyance, half amusement. “You were a bit rude to Nanami, don’t you think?”

“Hm?” His voice is innocently nonchalant. “Was I?”

You narrow your eyes, not buying his act for a second. "Come on, Satoru. You practically steamrolled over our conversation."

He shrugs, a lazy smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "I was just excited about dinner. Can't a guy be enthusiastic about hot pot?"

"Uh-huh," you say, unconvinced. "And it had nothing to do with the fact that I was talking to Nanami?"

In the backseat, Megumi and Tsumiki exchange a knowing look. They've witnessed enough of these exchanges to sense the underlying tension.

“Why would I care?”

“I don’t know. But you should still be nicer to him. He’s your kohai.”

“And? He can hold his own. He doesn’t need Y/N-senpai to hold his hand through the history of the Heian period,” he mutters.

You scoff.

His jaw ticks. He turns up the radio just a bit so he can speak low enough for you to hear. “I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

You laugh bitterly. He pouts, his eyes flickering under his sunglasses to peer between you and the road.

You’d gathered that he was bothered about Nanami’s presence, but it was nice for him to admit it. You should be annoyed but you’re oddly proud of Satoru for being able to confess when he’s jealous. Unfortunately, you also find it a bit satisfying.

“And how does he look at me?” you murmur.

His grip tightens on the steering wheel. "Like he's trying to figure you out. Or something.”

You can't help but smirk. "Is that so bad? Maybe I like being a mystery."

"You're not a mystery to me," he says, his voice holding an edge.

"No?" you challenge, enjoying the way his composure starts to crack. "You think you have me all figured out, then?"

He narrows his eyes at you. "I know you better than anyone, Twigs. Always have, always will."

“Digimon.”

“Pokemon.”

“Digimon.”

“Pokemon!”

“Digi– ow!”

Satoru pouts at you when you hit him with the book in your hand. “What the hell was that for?”

“Stop fighting.” You give a warning look to Satoru while Megumi tries to hide a self-satisfied smirk.

Even at his big age, Satoru still acted like a child. Exhibit A: Defending his obsession with Digimon and debating with a nine-year-old. Despite this, Satoru appeases Megumi by putting on Pokemon instead.

“Dessert, anyone?” you offer.

“Me!” Tsumiki shoots her hand up and flashes a toothy grin. Megumi hums in agreement.

“I am craving something sweet,” Satoru murmurs, smirking at you in a way that gets him a flick to the head in response.

“Sheesh! You’re violent today –”

“I’ll make a pot of yuzu tea,” you interrupt, scurrying to the kitchen. Satoru undoubtedly follows you. You feel a hand on your waist.

“Trying to run away from me so fast?”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“You mean insatiable?”

“Nope. I do mean incorrigible. Don’t even get me started on your behavior today.”

“Oooh,” Satoru’s breath tickles the skin underneath your ear, “Was I a bad boy? You gonna punish me?”

You frown, though your face is turned away from him so you can hide the corners of your mouth quirking up. You didn’t have it in you to be truly pissed off at him. Instead, you turn on the kettle and reach for the new jar of yuzu marmalade from the top shelf of the cupboard.

Satoru, the giant that he is, covers your hand with his and intertwines your fingers. His other hand reaches past you to grab the jar and hands it to you.

“Thanks,” you mutter.

You busy yourself with preparing the tea, trying to ignore the warmth of Satoru's body behind you. His presence is overwhelming, filling the small kitchen with an electric tension. You can feel his eyes on you as you measure the marmalade and hot water.

"You know," Satoru murmurs, his voice low and intimate, "we haven't had much time alone lately."

You swallow hard, focusing on stirring the tea. "We've both been busy."

"Too busy for me?"

You turn to face him, finding yourself trapped between his body and the counter. His blue eyes are intense, searching your face for something. You're not sure what.

You’re about to reply but he cuts you off.

"I miss you," he says simply.

You want to reach out and touch him. It wouldn’t take much. Only a few inches. You can feel his breath on you anyway. He’s so close that you can’t tell if the vulnerable expression on his face is true yearning or the trick of the light. Something holds you back from leaning in further.

“I haven’t gone anywhere,” you say, smiling weakly.

He rolls his eyes and smirks teasingly. “You know what I mean.”

“I’ve had a lot on my plate.”

“I know. You’re overworking yourself, you know. I haven’t been able to touch you in weeks.” His tone is almost serious.

“You’re touching me now, aren’t you?” you mumble, looking down to see where his fingers meet your hip.

“Ugh. Yeah, but you’ve been so timid lately. It’s like you’re avoiding me,” he pouts.

“I’m not,” you frown.

“Are too.”

You clear your throat, looking away. Trying to hide the flush in your cheeks.

“The kids are waiting for their tea," you say lamely.

Satoru nods, running a hand through his hair. "Right. We should..."

"Yeah."

You pour the tea. As you arrange the cups on a tray, you feel his hand brush against yours.

"I got it," he murmurs.

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. You let him carry the tray to the living room as you hang back and rummage through the drawers for the box of assorted box of mochi you’d bought earlier.

You exhale when Satoru exits the kitchen and gives you a reprieve. The tension between you is starting to make your skin crawl. It’s not entirely unwelcome — you know as much as he does that you haven’t been intimate in a little while. He must know it’s on purpose that you’ve been evading time spent alone with him.

It started as an act of spite from the last time he’d fucked you. You were half-asleep and stained with the scent of Suguru’s cursed energy. It wasn’t a violent affair — it hadn’t been so rough since you and Satoru were teenagers.

But there was a semblance of the emotionally volatile Satoru that could easily ignore you at the drop of a pin or suffocate you with tenderness. It was always whiplash with him.

Overwhelmed, you’d withdrawn into yourself in the past month, taking on more missions without him or choosing to spend your free time honing your craft in the greenhouse. When you had breaks or days off, you would spend time with the kids, ignoring Satoru’s playful but slightly targeted jabs about you enjoying the Fushiguros’ company more than his.

You did miss him. It just felt better to get your shit together, especially with the confusing feelings that your last encounter with Suguru had left you. You were perturbed with nostalgia, dreaming of his hands and his mouth all over you. Your brain would simulate his touch during your dreams and you would be transported to years prior, when you were nineteen and in love with two boys.

In love with two boys. The thought even now makes you laugh bitterly to yourself. You knew how they felt about you, how fervent and obsessive they could be.

You were also so often lost in your head that you couldn’t differentiate your romanticism from the intensity of your little love triangle. Or love… thing. Whatever it was, it was convoluted and paralyzing. Messy.

You thought you’d recovered, given your time in Kyoto. Regardless, Satoru and Suguru had left permanent marks on your heart. You weren’t sure how you’d cope with the brevity of it all, the ghost of passion taunting you even when your daily life was so oddly normal and domestic.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts when Tsumiki calls for you from the living room: “I call dibs on the strawberry matcha!”

Shit. Right. You were in the middle of arranging the daifuku on a plate. You quickly finish what you’re doing and walk towards the living room.

The kids greet you with eager smiles, oblivious to the tension in your shoulders and the way Satoru stares at you.

As you settle back onto the couch, Satoru sits closer than before. His thigh presses against yours, a constant reminder of his presence. You try to focus on the anime playing on the screen, but your mind keeps drifting to the man beside you and the remnants of an unfinished conversation.

The evening wears on, and soon it's time for the kids to go to bed. As you help Tsumiki brush her teeth, you catch sight of Satoru in the hallway mirror. He's leaning against the doorframe, watching you with a soft expression.

You’re on the way to the door when you hear his voice.

“You should stay over.”

You turn to look at him sheepishly, your fingers tightening over the strap of your bag.

“Ah, I have some studying to do —”

“You know it’s a Friday night, right?” Satoru narrows his eyes. “And you haven’t stayed over in a minute. And the kids reaaaally miss your pancakes…”

You huff at the insinuation that this is enough reason to stay. You weren’t his wife, weren’t their mother. Despite the responsibility you felt in taking care of the Fushiguro children (out of your best interest), it would still irk you that the notion would be tied to Satoru.

Satoru, who had dictated far too much of your life without trying. Satoru, who you would drop everything for if he simply asked. Then again, when did he ever truly need you? He was invincible.

But you’re in love with him, the annoying voice in your head reminds you.

“I have some reading to do,” you state in the most neutral voice you can muster. You can feel your eye about to twitch.

“Okay. You can do it here instead of downstairs. My bathroom has all the skincare stuff you like anyway, so that’s not an excuse,” he teases.

An hour later, you end up in Satoru’s king-sized bed reading a book about medicinal plants. The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts shadows across the pages as you try to focus on the intricate descriptions of herb properties.

Your mind keeps wandering, noting Satoru's presence just a few feet away. He's sprawled in an armchair, scrolling through his phone with an air of nonchalance that you know is entirely feigned.

You can feel his gaze flicking to you every few moments, like a gentle caress across your skin. The tension in the room is palpable. You want to jump out of your skin.

"You know," Satoru's voice breaks the silence, startling you, "I can hear you thinking from over here."

You look up, meeting his piercing blue eyes. There's a hint of amusement in them, but also something deeper, more intense.

"I'm just... reading," you mutter, gesturing weakly at the book in your lap.

Satoru raises an eyebrow. "Really? Because you haven't turned a page in about ten minutes."

Heat rises to your cheeks as you realize he's right. You've been staring blankly at the same paragraph, lost in your thoughts.

He stands, moving towards the bed with fluid grace. The mattress dips as he sits on the edge, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“You can afford to take a little break, hm?”

You narrow your eyes. “I’m trying to focus.”

“You’re not.” He smirks and the look on his face makes you scowl.

He moves to rest his head on your stomach, listening intently to the biorhythms of your belly. If only he could lift himself to kiss you higher on your body. Press his face into your chest so he could feel your pulse beating erratically. But your stubbornness acts enough as a barrier — not to mention the book you’re holding with an iron grip.

“Let me in, Twigs,” he mumbles. “I’ve missed you.”

“I see you all the time, Satoru.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Surely you’re not about to beg me for sex,” you scoff.

“I’m begging for you.”

You’re about to snap at him but the earnestness in his voice makes you pause.

Your fingers twitch, itching to run through his soft white hair. But you resist, keeping your hands firmly on the book.

“I’m comfy here,” he hums, sighing and stretching out like a cat. “You really don’t wanna give me more attention? After tonight’s nice dinner?”

You snort. “Is everything so transactional with you?”

“Of course not,” he mutters. “Just want affection.”

“You’re clingy.”

I know, he almost says. He almost wants to be pitiful about it, but he knows that won’t work on you. Not anymore. So he tries something else.

“Can you read your book to me?” he asks.

“It’s nonfiction. You’ll think it’s boring.”

“So? There’s so much to learn. Isn’t that what you always say?”

“Uh.” You bite your lip, your expression shifting as he rubs small circles on your thigh. “Okay.”

You start reading out loud, though your brain is barely connecting to your mouth. You merely run on autopilot, too distracted by Satoru’s touch to fully focus on the words on the page.

As you read, Satoru's fingers continue their lazy circles on your thigh, occasionally dipping to trace patterns on the sensitive skin of your inner leg. His touch is light, almost teasing, and you find yourself stumbling over words as your concentration wavers.

"You okay there?" he murmurs, a hint of amusement in his voice. "You seem distracted."

You clear your throat, determined not to let him win this little game. "I'm fine," you insist, though your voice comes out slightly strained. "Just... the next part is complex."

"Mhmm," he hums, clearly unconvinced. His hand slides higher, ghosting over your hip. "Please, continue. I'm fascinated."

You take a deep breath and forge ahead, your voice growing steadier as you force yourself to focus on the text. But Satoru is relentless. His fingers dance along your skin. He nuzzles against your stomach, his breath warm even through the fabric of your shirt.

Your words falter again as he presses a soft kiss to your hipbone. "Satoru," you warn, trying to sound stern but failing miserably.

He looks up at you, blue eyes gleaming with mischief. "Yeah?"

You want to be annoyed, to push him away and assert your need for space. But the affection in his gaze, mixed with that familiar intensity, makes your resolve weaken.

"You're impossible," you sigh, finally lowering the book.

A smile spreads across his face. "What? I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re distracting me.”

“I’m not. Just keep reading. I wanna listen.”

You roll your eyes but pick up the book again, determined to at least try to finish the chapter. As you resume reading, Satoru's hand continues its teasing exploration, tracing patterns up and down your thigh.

Your voice quivers as his fingers trace the curve of your hip, dipping teasingly beneath the hem of your shirt. You stumble over a particularly long sentence, heat rising to your cheeks as Satoru chuckles softly against your stomach.

"Having trouble?" he murmurs, his breath hot on your skin.

"N-no," you stutter, trying to regain your composure. "Don’t interrupt."

But your body betrays you, a small shiver running through you as Satoru's hand slides up your side, his thumb brushing the underside of your breast. Your breath catches, the words on the page blurring before your eyes.

“Satoru," you breathe, your stubbornness crumbling.

“I said, keep reading.”

You continue to read, though your voice is low and mumbling as you lose concentration. He rubs in between your thighs, making you shiver. You’re about to protest but he gives you a sharp look with a hint of a smirk.

You struggle, stammering over the words as he slowly slides down your shorts. Your breath hitches as Satoru's fingers ghost along the edge of your underwear.

The book trembles in your hands, your voice faltering as you try to focus on the words on the page. You’re wound up so tight, he thinks it’s adorable. He can’t help but be a little mean about it.

He bites the fat of your inner thigh. You gasp, your hips involuntarily arching into his touch.

He looks up at you, his blue eyes dark with desire. "Keep going," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "I want to hear every word."

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to continue reading even as Satoru's fingers slip beneath the fabric of your underwear. Your voice wavers, breaking on certain words as he teases you with feather-light touches.

You’re wet enough for him to slip his fingers in easily. He whistles at the squelch, making you blush miserably. You’re stubborn enough to keep reading.

"Good," he praises softly, his breath hot against the apex of your thighs. "You're doing so well."

The praise sends a shiver down your spine, and you struggle to maintain your composure. The words blur together, your voice trailing off into a soft moan as he hits a particularly sensitive spot.

He looks up at you, a wicked grin playing on his lips.

You want to be frustrated with him, to push him away and regain some semblance of control. But the heat pooling in your core and the intensity of his gaze make it impossible to resist.

“Y-You’re being unfair,” you mumble.

“Hm? I’m just listening.”

You stumble over your words until you taper off into a whimper.

“You’re soaked here,” he hums. “Do plants turn you on that much?”

With a defeated groan, you let the book fall to the side, your fingers tangling in Satoru's white hair.

“No. You’re the one touching me.”

“Mm. I’m multitasking.”

“You’re being a —ahh —”

He presses a kiss to your clothed clit before he hooks his fingers under the edge of your underwear, slowly dragging them down your legs. The cool air hits your heated skin, making you shiver.

Your breath comes in short gasps, anticipation coiling tightly in your belly. When his mouth finally reaches your center, you cry out, arching off the bed. His tongue is all warm and wet muscle prodding your folds.

It isn’t the first time he’s done this, but the time it’s been since you last let him touch you makes it all feel new. Almost humiliating as your back curls upward, the need in your core yearning for his worship.

Satoru works you with practiced skill, groaning into your pussy as he looks up at you with half-lidded eyes. Easily, he slips his fingers inside you once more. You moan out and close your mouth with your palm.

It’s been so long — he can’t help but want to ruin you.

He loves you like this. Slack-jawed, eyes glistening. He uses three fingers pushed to the knuckle, chuckling at the lewd sounds of your wetness.

"Satoru," you moan, your voice breathy and desperate. "Please..."

The butterflies in your stomach swarm in a hectic frenzy. He hums against you when you pull his hair, the vibration adding more stimulation to your sensitive cunt. You're teetering on the edge, so close to falling apart. You’d forgotten how easy it was for him to get you there.

You whimper his name and the sound of your voice is foreign to you. It’s like you’re outside yourself — a mirage of the two of you playing like a fuzzy scene from a movie. Your mind is blank and heavy and hazy. Your senses are only filled with Satoru.

“You stopped reading,” he sighs. “Thought I told you to keep going?”

“I– hnnng – I c-can’t–”

“You sure?”

“Y-you–”

“What is it? Want something?”

He doubles his efforts with his mouth, his fingers continuing their relentless motions. His cock twitches when he hears the choked moan you let out.

The ecstasy that bursts from your core is so much. You shatter and he laps up every drop of the honey flowing from you. It’s too indulgent, all Dionysian pleasure.

You cry out his name and Satoru works you through it, drawing out your pleasure until you're a trembling, oversensitive mess. You almost want to pry him off of you. His mouth is latched onto your clit as he continues to bully his long fingers along your g-spot.

You wonder briefly if this is what it’s like to be an imploding star. A supernova collapsing in on itself from the gravity of heaven incarnate.

“S-Satoru,” you whimper.

He finally lets go of you but continues to pepper kisses along your thighs, soothing his palms over your trembling legs.

“S’okay, baby. Did so good for me,” he muses.

Despite your orgasm, you’re not feeling entirely satiated.

He looks almost amused as he rises and smiles at you softly. You exhale shakily and look down to see the bulge in his pants. It makes your mouth water.

“Good job. Very informative.”

“Wh-what?”

“Your book,” he grins.

“Oh.” You’d nearly forgotten what you were doing in the first place.

“You’ve been working so hard, yeah?” he says sweetly. “You should get some sleep.”

You look at him, bewildered. “What?”

“You should get some rest, baby.”

You eye him carefully, trying not to flicker your point of vision down to his dick. Was he… serious? Or teasing you?

You blink at him. Your body still tingles from your orgasm, but a new kind of tension coils in your core. You expected him to pounce, to claim you fully after weeks of distance. Instead, he's looking at you with an enigmatic smile, his blue eyes twinkling with something you can't quite decipher.

"But..." you start, then stop, unsure how to voice your thoughts without sounding desperate.

Satoru chuckles softly, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. "What's wrong, Twigs? You look confused."

You swallow hard, trying to ignore the way your body responds to his proximity. He gets closer to you. It’s hard to think straight.

"I just thought..." you trail off, heat rising to your cheeks.

"Thought what?" he prompts, his voice low and teasing. His fingers rub your arm softly. You almost whimper at the contact. You need more.

You glance down at the obvious bulge in his pants, then back up to his face. "Don't you want to...?"

Satoru tilts his head. "Want to what?"

You huff in frustration, torn between embarrassment and arousal. "You know what I mean."

He leans back, stretching languidly. The movement causes his shirt to ride up, revealing a tantalizing strip of porcelain skin. You find your eyes drawn to it.

"I don’t," he says nonchalantly. "Besides, you need your rest, remember? Good weekend for studying, y’know?"

You narrow your eyes at him, trying to discern his game. This isn't like Satoru at all. Normally, he'd be all over you by now, his passion bordering on obsessive.

"Satoru," you start, your voice coming out needier than you intended.

He turns to you, his expression softening. "Yes, baby?"

“You’re not…?”

“Not what?” he asks innocently, yawning.

He almost laughs at the incredulous look on your face.

He’s being cruel, he knows this. But he’s been so good after all, especially after unraveling you when you had protested at first. He won’t disturb your peace anymore, not asking for anything in return.

But your body feels so fucking hot.

This alone makes you want to scream. It’s been weeks since he’s fucked you and he’s made it well-known how much he wants you. You know this, too. It’s why he’s been in the back of your mind even when you try to avoid him.

There would be guilt sometimes amongst other confusing feelings, but since your encounter with Suguru, you were trying not to revert to your past self and have frequent, reckless sex with Satoru just to numb the chaos in your head.

But fuck. You’re only human. He’d made you cum so hard just now and your pussy was still throbbing, needing him to fill you. And here he was, being considerate for once. Not pushing.

You won’t play this game with him, so you shake your head as you clear your throat.

“Never mind,” you mutter.

He kisses your cheek. “Still wanna sleep here?”

Your body feels sluggish, but the idea of sleeping next to his warm body and not being able to do anything about your overflowing lust seemed torturous.

“I have errands. Need to wake up early tomorrow,” you lie. “Tomorrow night, maybe.”

“Mmkay. Night, Twigs,” he hums sweetly.

You grit your teeth. “Night, Satoru.”

#gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you

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