#anyway my hand immediately went to my mouth this is a GREAT picture

[gorillaxyz]

theway i stifled a gasp.

[hazelfoureyes]

Hello! Not sure if you're taking requests, so do ignore this if you feel like it.

I adore your work sm!! Rewatching the Stayed Gone mv, Vox had a picture of a bootleg Alastor and pointing to his microphone were the words "dildo?"

Do you think you could write an Alastor x Reader, or just Alastor pleasuring himself with the microphone? (That sounds weird now-)

Thank you for taking the time to read this!

-🍺

Good Vibrations

the way I immediately knew what to do is proof of my depravity. I know it isn’t exactly what you meant but this is what I’m comfortable with writing. This was a quick little 30 minute write, I hope it still brings you joy 🎙️

After you make an offhand comment about doubting if his microphone actually works, Alastor finds a creative way to convince you while at dinner with the group.

tags/warnings/promises: Alastor x Reader, erotic but not smut?, smut is explicit, this is just horny, the microphone does in fact work, vibrator

Rarely was Alastor without his microphone. Even Vox made note of it. But, his voice sounded like it came from his mouth. Sure there was a radio affect to it, but he was a demon after all. You couldn’t figure out how it worked. Or rather, if it worked.

As you all waited to take your seats for dinner, Niffty having turned out to be a surprisingly good cook, you were caught staring.

“Is there something I can do for you?”, Alastor leaned down to meet your eyeline.

You blinked, “Oh, sorry. Just wondering if that even works.”

“If what works?”

“Your microphone.”

He knew it worked, of course. But your question felt… offensive. “Do you think I’d carry a functionless microphone around?”

Without hesitation you replied, “I do, yes.”

“Oh absolutely!” Angel pushed between you two.

“You do have a flare for the dramatic, boss.” Husk took his seat beside Angel.

Charlie nervously scratched her cheek, “I always wondered that too! But it worked in Cannibal Town, so I’m a believer now.”

“But wait-,” Vaggie looked to Charlie, “If it worked when you put it to your mouth why doesn’t he have to? It’s literally everywhere but his mouth.”

Alastor’s forced grin strained against this cheeks, black gums showing. You gave him a shrug and joined the group. He took his seat opposite you, pulling his chair in all the way.

You’d already forgotten the conversation when you felt something graze across your lap. Before you could investigate, Alastor spoke, “Why don’t we all say what we did today! I’ll go first!” Your knees shot up, knocking the table as a strong vibration lit up your crotch.

Vaggie leaned in, “You good?”

Slowly, eyes wide, you looked up to meet Alastor’s wicked smile.

“I went downtown to grab a fresh cut of venison. Niffty makes the best venison roast this side of Pentagram City.” You white knuckled the edge of the table, glancing down to see the microphone resting between your thighs. The top was nestled firmly above your mound.

“Hmmm what else? Oh! I got some deviled eggs. My, what a treat. My mother made the best deviled eggs. You know-,” as he droned on, you tried to push your chair away from the table. “Ah ah! It’s so rude to leave while someone is speaking.” He leaned back, foot reaching under the table to hook around your chair’s leg and pull you forward.

“Aww Al, you never talk so much! This is great. What else did you do today?” Charlie rested her cheek on her hand, eyes sparkling at Alastor.

“I am so glad you asked! Let me think, hmmmmm” He drew out the consonant, the sound making a rougher vibration than others. You were hunched over the table, biting your bottom lip to keep quiet. “Oh I went to— what is it called again? Ummmmm,” Your leg shot up again, the silverware clanking against your plate.

“Will you just fucking say it?!” You spit it out louder than you meant.

“Woah! That’s not very nice.” Charlie gave you a disappointed look, pulling a groan from you, “What’s gotten into you?”

Angel looked over to you, “You doin’ alright? You’re like… sweatin’.”

“What indeed, Charlie. Well, anyway! I think I’ve made my point!” You felt the weight of the microphone slide down your thighs and past your knees. You took in a deep breath, finally able to relax your body.

“You’re pretty pale…”, Husk commented, “You sick or something?”

Angel pushed your hair from your forehead, “That face looks so familiar.”

Before you could answer, Alastor opened his mouth, “I think she should lie down. Allow me to escort you to bed, my dear.”

“You are so sweet today! I love it! Fuck yeah!” Charlie punched the air. Alastor came behind you and pulled your chair back for you. “Take your time, if she’s sick maybe she shouldn’t be alone.”

“If you say so!” Alastor practically sang the words. With both hands on your shoulders, he guided you out of the room.

“He’s the best.” Charlie beamed, “Alright whose next?”

༻Masterlist༺

[rrxnjun]

potential • z. chenle

pairing. zhong chenle x fem! reader genre. rich kids au, childhood friends au, friends with benefits au. angst, fluff, suggestive. word count. 20k (20.079) warnings. alcohol consumption, swearing, mentions of sexual activity, sexual innuendos, a heavy make out session or two, use of lyrics from ariana grande and sarah close and masking them as my own words a/n. why do we call it a rich kid chenle au when he's a rich kid irl. anyways for the fact that this was one of the most spontaneous fics ive ever written it sure did take a lot of time to execute. took a lot of inspo for the lifestyle from the sky castle kdrama so if its not accurate dont @ me bc ive never been rich LMAO

playlist. in my head – ariana grande ; successful – ariana grande ; nonsense – sabrina carpenter ; supermodel – måneskin ; that's what i like – bruno mars

You saw his potential without seeing credentials. And maybe that's the issue.

August 28, 2020 – somewhere in the Bali sea, 1:27 AM

The music is loud. The weather is humid.

Wrapping up the summer before your senior year, dancing around in the bar of the cruise ship in the middle of the ocean, one last stop before your 28-day cruise around Southeast Asia is over, the loud music from the bar rings in your ears as you dance around, a glass of expensive Mendis coconut Brandy swirling in your hold. The taste of the alcohol on your tongue burns, not quite used to the burning sensation in your mouth– this is one of the first times you’re drinking, since your parents were always big on prestige and acting classy. Your parents went to sleep, though– excited to explore Benoa tomorrow, to immerse themselves in nature and explore Bali’s temples and heritage. You, on the other hand, took this as an opportunity to party– accompanied by none other than your parents’ friend’s son, who grew into the position of your childhood best friend solely because his and your family have always been close, choosing to spend vacations together; a relationship that was mostly fueled by the immediate closeness of you two during the summer breaks and ski trips to Swiss Alps every January.

And while you’re no stranger to pearls, charity events in your parents’ mansion in Hong Kong, golf courses in Miami and fashion shows in Milan, growing up in the world of designer bags and prestigious titles, you feel quite stranded in the middle of the sweaty teenagers, all of them with the same social status as you, drinking expensive alcohol and swinging your hips to the EDM music playing through the speakers. It almost feels like this is the first time you’re able to enjoy yourself without anyone’s supervision, screaming at the top of your lungs into Zhong Chenle’s face as he laughs at you on the dance floor, and truth be told, you could care less about the pictures you’re going to take for your Instagram tomorrow, showing everyone just how good you’re doing and how much fun you’re having on your lengthy cruises around the continent, because somehow, even though the bar is clothed in gold and you feel a bit like in The great Gatsby, this feels like the least pressuring part of the whole trip.

“We should go to parties more often!” you scream into Chenle’s ear, taking a sip of your Brandy as you twirl yourself around him, the straps of your sparkly spaghetti-strap tiny top falling off your shoulders in a moment of carelessness, your thoughts somewhere completely else. You may be 19 years old and insanely wealthy, but that still doesn’t mean you are experienced in the art of partying– quite the opposite, actually, having to always seem cultivated and presenting yourself in a way that would suggest that your family is high on prestige and recognition– so to finally be surrounded by people your age, dancing along to the music and jumping up as you all chant the lyrics to Barbie girl by Aqua (how ironic) feels quite ecstatic.

“Like our parents would let us,” Chenle rolls his eyes, lips almost pressed against the shell of your ear as he makes sure to get close enough for you to hear him.

Sighing at his argument– knowing he’s absolutely right, but also hating the fact that he had to ruin your mood by stating it out loud– you shake your head as you down the last bits of your drink, putting the heavy glass onto the tray of a waiter that’s passing by to gather the rest of the empty ones scattered across the shiny tables in the corner of the room. Your brain is starting to get a little fuzzy and you can’t help the giggling escaping out of your throat whenever your eyes meet Chenle’s, the flush on the boy’s cheeks hinting at the fact that he’s not any better at handling his alcohol than you, having just as much experience in heavy drinking and partying as you do. 

You’re only 19 years old and you don’t know a lot about the world. After all, you were brought up in a family that always did everything for you– you never had to move a single finger. You never even had to clean your room, because your parents had people that would come by every morning while you were in school, just so you could arrive home to a tidy place when you were done with your lectures. You went to a private school, so you were always surrounded by people with a status similar to yours. You spoke about your tutoring classes that cost more than groceries for a middle-class family a week, you talked about your trips abroad, and if you had time, you even went shopping with your classmates after school before your driver picked you up and drove you back into the suburbs; your neighborhood guarded by a gate, the asphalt behind it so much smoother than it is in the rest of the town.

You never got to experience partying like this– only gaping with an open mouth when you saw those scenes in the movies you watched on Netflix in your own private movie room. And if you’re being totally honest, you never imagined enjoying such a thing. You never had the experience, so you didn’t really yearn for it, but now that you’re here, surrounded by loud music, experiencing the weird emotional feeling that comes with being in a crowd screaming in joy at the same time first-hand on your own skin, you don’t think you’ll be able to go back to how you were before.

This is not how rich kids party. At least not when their parents are around.

“You’re gonna be hungover tomorrow morning,” Chenle mutters into your ear when your eyes light up at the sight of more alcohol, contemplating on getting another drink, just because. 

“And you’re not?” you tease him, pointing to his glossy eyes and lazy walk, his legs tangling with each other every few seconds from the haze he’s been put in just by having a few drinks. The sight is quite funny– the ever-so composed millionaire son is now a troubled mess in your eyes; one wrong step and he could ruin the image his family has spent years to build up, but it doesn’t seem like either of you care, tripping over your feet and lounging at each other in the middle of the dance floor. 

Feeling like you’re playing a dangerous game, hanging off his neck and swaying your hips to the rhythmic beat, you gape into his blown-out eyes and desperately try to get your brain straight. The more you drank and the more you spent time in Chenle’s close proximity, the less you were able to control your emotions and the weird thoughts in your brain that have been slowly eating up all your notions for quite some time now. Gaping at his plump lips and feeling his palms burning at your hips, his fingers ever-so-slightly hovering above the curve of your ass, you’re finding it hard to concentrate on the music or on the words spilling off his tongue, his voice never shutting up even in the loud bar. You always told him he talks too much, but he doesn’t seem to mind– he seems to actually take much pride in his annoying tendencies, talking your ear off on multiple occasions even when you tell him he should probably stay quiet for at least a minute, so your brain could recharge.

Truth be told, you listen to him most of the time anyway. He always talks and you always listen, rolling your eyes at the snarky parts and giggling at the jokes; so the fact that you suddenly can’t focus and just desperately want him to shut the fuck up must be the effect of all the alcohol you’ve been drinking tonight. 

And your next step might as well be the main consequence of the coconut Brandy as well– because even though you’ve been dreaming of his plump lips on yours for quite some time now, you’ve never actually dared to act up on the desire. But your intention to make him go quiet seems to be working when the train of words stammering out of his mouth is cut off, a surprised noise trailing out of his throat when you kiss him on the dance floor; and to your surprise, he doesn’t seem to mind your weird sign of protest to his endless talking– quite the opposite, really, as he lets you take the lead and taste the mix of alcohol in the Long Island cocktails he’s been drinking the whole night off his tongue, your hands mindlessly trailing up to thread themselves into his hair. 

This is not your first time kissing a boy– you once pecked Song Eunseok on the lips when the two of you sneaked out of class one day in 9th grade– but you never once kissed anyone with such passion and desire before. You’re not sure where you got all the courage from and you’re also not sure where you learned all of this– but it must be working, with how heavily Chenle’s breathing when you finally let go of his lips and he rests his forehead against yours. In no time, he’s chasing you down again, drunk not only on the alcohol now as he tilts his head to get closer, one hand resting on the side of your neck, just a few inches below your jaw, keeping you in place. 

“You should learn how to shut up,” you mumble against his lips, breathing heavy as you break away from him again and open your eyes to meet your gaze with his. The music is still loud in your ears, but you swear you hear a static noise somewhere in your brain, a tingle in your fingertips making you feel like you’re about to have an out-of-body experience. Your drunken brain is not allowing you to ponder about your actions that much, not letting you think and contemplate the fact that you just made out with your childhood best friend on one of the most expensive cruise ships, drinking alcohol you weren’t supposed to spend so much money on, and maybe that’s a good thing– because there’s nothing stopping you in having the time of your life, no overthinking making you doubt your next steps and no feeling of shame or regret making the whole experience bitter as you dance pressed against your companion, letting him press short, yet daring kisses to your lips as time passes.

“I think I’m good,” he snickers, when the music suddenly cuts out, an announcer telling you that the bar closes at 2 AM and that this song is the last for the night.

Sighing in disappointment– because who even knows when the next time you’ll have this opportunity will come– you let Chenle lead you out of the bar, his hand glued around your exposed waist. Your walk is a little loop-sided and you two almost smash into the glass door (doesn’t matter that it’s automatic and it quite literally opened in front of your figures). Soon enough, you’re met with the golden interior of the cruise walls again, the design a little vintage, yet still luxurious, reminding you of the movie Titanic. Tripping over the doorsteps, hands getting caught on the red, velvety curtains hung around, you giggle at every word that comes out of Chenle’s mouth, bodies slowly, but surely getting closer and closer to your suite bedrooms. You’re quite sure your parents could hear you talking outside in the hall, but you choose to not ponder on what they would think of you if they saw you in this state too much, instead making yourself believe that they’re long asleep and won’t be woken up by your voices resonating through the quiet space. 

“So I guess this is where we say goodnight?” you mumble, hanging off Chenle’s neck. His breath smells of the vodka-tequila mix when he hovers over you, bodies off-balance pressed against the cold wall just outside of your bedroom. Flashing you a grin, face looking close to a cheshire cat, he nudges your nose with his, a quiet hum landing to your ear, not heard by anyone.

“Or we could stay up a little longer.”

Squirming under his touch, his lips softly, yet still a little uncoordinatedly landing on yours, you waste no time in unlocking the door to your room– even though you have a bit of trouble with finding the key in your small purse, even surprised you haven’t lost the bag somewhere in the middle of the night– letting your childhood friend in to your space at the suggestion, your clothed bodies falling to the soft cushions of the water bed. 

You’re only 19 and don’t know much about the world when you messily undress yourself under your friend’s eyes, blinded by the glints in his deep chocolate orbs when he looks at you from above and attacks your neck with kisses. And you usually don’t regret much, considering yourself a responsible individual, always rethinking everything and making sure it’s the right choice, but when you look back at this day now, you don’t really know if sleeping with Zhong Chenle on a cruise around Southeast Asia was the brightest idea of yours, considering the mental turmoil it’s gonna cause you on the way.

Well, at least you can say you lost your virginity somewhere in the middle of the Bali sea, and at least that’s something to boost your ego with, am I right…? 

July 12, 2007 – Tokyo DisneySea, 2:21 PM

If anyone asked you for your favorite childhood memory, you wouldn’t have a hard time picking one. Sure, one would think you have too many pleasant memories to choose from, so realistically, you should take more time to pick and weigh the value of each one, contemplating if the trip to Rome was a happier memory than the summer you spent in Los Angeles when you were 10, but you are 100%, completely in tune with the fact that if anyone ever asked you this very question, the words falling off their tongue with interest and enthusiasm, no judgment and no hidden intentions behind their question, you’d have an answer ready with a smile on your face.

You don’t hold much emotion to your past memories. You’ve been on more vacations than you can both count and remember growing up, and so even though you do think the pictures you took in Italy came out good and your skin glistens prettily in the warm sun, even though you do think you experienced a lot of fun while going to the Target for the first time with your nanny– the woman your mum hired just because your parents were too busy with their business meetings the whole time you walked the streets of Los Angeles with the new woman you were supposed to trust with your life at the ripe age of 10– you wouldn’t say any of those memories are as close to your heart as the trip you took to Japan with the Zhong family when you were 6, the summer before attending first grade.

This was the year you and Chenle watched the Pirates of the Caribbean together for the first time, and even though it wasn’t in the initial plan, you two spent hours and hours and hours  of the flight persuading your parents to take you to Tokyo Disneyland, because you heard from his cousin Yizhuo that you could meet Jack Sparrow if you went. While your plan didn’t exactly work and the two of you didn’t get to go to the large theme park– because your parents were busy, mostly traveling because of business and so they didn’t have the time to arrange it, the amount of sulking you two did when you arrived to the rented house in the expensive part of Tokyo to the teenager that was supposed to watch you two for the time being was enough for him to take you two on a short train ride to the twin of the famous theme park– the Tokyo DisneySea. 

The 15-minute train ride you three took to the theme park was your first, and also last time you ever rode such a mean of transport. All you were used to were expensive sports cars and limousines– you never imagined that people took such transport even every single day, at times. You and Chenle were so immersed in the journey that it was hard for your babysitter to get you out of the train, your small, excited bodies almost tripping over your own little feet as the raven-haired boy dragged you through the streets of Maihama station. 

You could see the towers of the park and you could smell the salt from the sea even from a distance. The whole atmosphere felt magical, giggles often erupting out of your throat as Yuta– the boy your parents hired to watch over you for the day– bought a bubble blower from one of the stands and blew out bubbles you two chased around and tried to pop before they got to the ground. There were no expensive cars in sight, no people dressed in suits and designer shoes– well, except from the two of you, but you couldn’t quite grasp the idea of how much your attire cost at that age yet– and you felt truly, insanely happy. The adults that always watched you when your parents went to business meetings were stern and serious, never letting you have much fun, but today was different, and you find yourself wondering why your parents even let you be babysat by a reckless teenager in the first place. He was 16 at the time– 10 years older than the both of you– and when you look back at the day now, you think it was the time pressure that brought your parents into hiring him. You bet they paid him a lot of money, hell, you bet they even lended him a credit card he could use to entertain you two for the whole afternoon, and even though you found him using it a few times, you didn’t think he spent just as much as all your previous babysitters did. 

Not that you knew the value of money back then, after all. Maybe the fact that you couldn’t tell how much money everything was worth back then is what truly made the whole day so carefree and happy for you.

You were children of wealthy Chinese business owners. You always had everything they saw in your eyes– you didn’t even have to say it out loud and it was held up to you on a silver platter. This day, though, you didn’t even have to use that much money– if you truly compare it to other vacations your families have been to– and you can’t help but think it’s ironic how despite this fact, this day is still your favorite childhood memory. 

The Tokyo DisneySea was catered to a more mature audience– even serving alcohol in the premises, a thing no other Disneyland does– but even though you were just 6 and couldn’t drink and there was no Jack Sparrow waiting for you in the streets of the theme park, you and Chenle had a blast. Maybe it was a good decision on Yuta’s part to take you to the DisneySea instead; it catered to your Pirates of the Caribbean needs perfectly despite it not being the initial theme. The ships and wooden coasts and harbors were enough for your imagination to create stories about pirates in your head, the three of you attending various rides and screaming at the top of your lungs together over the course of the afternoon.

“Wanna go to the Tower of Terror?” Yuta asked you, his toothy grin on full display as he dragged you two to the scary ride when you finally got to the American Waterfront. 

The teenager was wearing a black muscle top with L’arc en ciel written on it– you found out only a few years later that it was a japanese rock band– and with his long, black hair falling to his forehead, he looked just like the person that would enjoy scary rides and horror movies. You, however– you weren’t prepared to get scared by green ghosts and eerie music. Not at 6 years old anyways, although you doubt you’d do better on this day.

If there’s one thing you need to know about Zhong Chenle, it’s the fact that he’s a lover of horror. And Korean dramas. But mostly horror– a few years later, when you were both the age Nakamoto Yuta was when he brought you to the Tokyo DisneySea, your friend came to a Halloween party dressed like the clown from IT and managed to jump-scare you every moment he physically got. There was no surprise in the small boy liking the idea of attending the scary ride, and no matter how hard you tried and protested, there was no use in you saying no. Because the two of them wanted to go, and you, quoting Yuta, ‘couldn’t just stay alone outside’, so you were pretty much forced into the darkness of the Tower of Terror, your small body pressed against Chenle and Yuta’s– you refused to sit anywhere but sandwiched between the two in the middle of the cart– shutting your eyes close when the scary music started playing and you could feel the anxiety forming in the pit of your stomach.

You trembled the whole time, panic resting in your beating heart, and somewhere along the way, you found yourself clinging to Chenle’s small hand, squishing it so hard he screamed at you in the dim lightning of the ride. You didn’t let go, though– that’s what he gets for dragging you along– fracturing his bones wasn’t in your concerns, if it made you feel more secure and safe.

The fond memory of the day ends with the moment the scary ride is over and you finally get out of the darkness– with Yuta having to carry your out of terror half-paralyzed body from the cart. To this day, you still don’t have a clear outlook on why this day is your favorite childhood memory, but you think it might be the mix of Chenle’s excited laughter as he scared you every two seconds after the ride, the apologetic hug he enveloped you in after you almost burst to tears the third time, the taste of the sausage Yuta bought you two for dinner, the taxi ride to the rented house you had to take in a rush before your parents got back from their business meeting, and the melodic voice of your best friend when he sang you the opening theme to the Pirates of the Caribbean before you two fell asleep on the same bed in your hotel room.

Either way, despite the terror, you don’t think you’ve ever had this much fun ever again. 

When you peed the bed that night, your parents decided to never hire a teenager to look after the two of you again. From that moment alone, there was less horror, but also less fun.

May 5, 2019 – tennis courts in Jinqiao, Shanghai, 4:17 PM

One would think that growing up with Zhong Chenle would put him into a position of your almost-brother. And while you did agree with the statement on most days– like when he laughed so hard that snot came out of his nose and almost fell into your lunch plate when you were 15, or when he shot you with his paintball gun so hard you had a bruise on your knee for three weeks when you were 17– you think you’re starting to slowly outgrow this phase. 

Zhong Chenle is no longer a brotherly figure to you when you two pick up tennis at the ripe age of 18. 

It wasn’t either of your ideas, of course. Tennis is not a sport a teenager just suddenly picks up one day because they’re interested– at least not when you’re incredibly wealthy and can pretty much afford any other hobby in the entire world. No, it was the idea of Chenle’s mother– because, quoting, ‘the kids barely go out these days, they might as well pick up a sport!’ – and with the copycat tendencies of your dear mum, you were dragged along into it as well. And so now, during the finals season, on top of that, you two have to go play tennis on one of the private tennis courts your families rent for three hours a day every Friday afternoon instead of studying or focusing on getting your stress out of your body doing other, much more enjoyable things.

“You know, you look a little too excited for someone who hates playing tennis,” Renjun– the neighborhood kid (your parents being business partners for quite some time now made you and the short boy become friends somewhere along the way)– states, snickering as he lays on one of the benches on the side, his own tennis racket thrown carelessly on the ground as he watches the two of you running around the court, playing.

“I only do it because I’m bored,” Chenle mutters under his nose, sending the little yellow ball over the net with much force, making you run to the other side of the court. 

“And I only do it because I need to prove to him that he’s not the best at everything he tries,” you add, sending the ball back to your friend. 

“Just say you want to impress him and go,” Yizhuo– Chenle’s cousin from his mother’s side– teases you from the bench, sitting next to Renjun. Her remark doesn’t go unnoticed by you as you send the yellow ball her way after her cousin passes it towards your side of the court again, aiming precisely for her forehead but missing, earning yourself a terrified yelp out of the girl when she scootches closer to the boy next to her.

“That’s totally not what’s going on, but sure,” you roll your eyes at her when she throws the ball back, but you don’t feel interested in continuing the game anymore. Tiredly walking closer to the two sitting at the little shaded bench, wiping the sweat off your forehead, you try hard to not think of the snarky remark that was sent your way. 

Is it really that obvious? Because sure, you’ve always found Zhong Chenle to be your brother figure over the years of growing up– but there’s something about the humid air of the tennis court and his competitiveness that have you eyeing him when he takes a sip from his water bottle or when he adjusts the hairband sitting on his damp forehead. He wears shorts that reveal his calves very nicely, and when you play 2 on 2, you find yourself focusing less and less on the game– earning yourself a frustrated yell from Ning Yizhuo herself as she plays along your side– and more and more on the Gucci tennis shoes adorning his feet as you scan the boy up and down, his figure growing taller and taller each passing day captivating you in a sense you’ve never quite experienced before.

“I can’t believe my mum dragged you all into this shit,” Chenle giggles when he sits next to Renjun on the bench, following you to the shade. There’s only 20 minutes left in the time your parents rented the court for and you figure that you can spend that time recharging your energy instead of playing the boring game. 

“Not me,” Yizhuo says, “she made my mother feel bad about not signing me up for any sports. You know, your mum’s pretty persuasive, especially when it comes to looking good in front of everyone. If it wasn’t for my mum, I wouldn’t be doing this shit,” she complains, shrugging as she adjusts her ponytail that’s always sitting neatly on the crown of her head.

“I love the fact that Renjun here is the least athletic out of all of us, but he is the only one here willingly,” you snicker, earning yourself a chant of amused laughs at the spoken truth. Now, nobody forced Huang Renjun to come play tennis with you every Friday– but the fact that he doesn’t have many friends in the neighborhood was what made him come along, too bored on his own and with nothing to put his attention to. He doesn’t like playing much, but everything’s better than sitting alone at home, am I right?

The three of you gossip about everything and nothing– the new family in the neighborhood, especially, because Renjun saw their son last Sunday and found his outfit absolutely atrocious (“You’d think people with money would at least know how to dress well, but no. That’s not the case with that Wen Junhui guy.”). The time passes by quickly, and when the timer on Chenle’s phone goes off, signaling that the three mandatory hours at the tennis court are finally over, you all stand up and walk over to the gate, shoes dragging along the sandy surface of the ground with much tiredness. At least you’re getting some cardio in…

“Is your driver coming to pick you up?” Chenle asks as you pay goodbye to your friends, both of them getting into expensive cars waiting for them at the parking lot. Turning to him, you hum in agreement, suddenly shy under his gaze. It’s not even summer yet, but the May sun is already harsh on the skin, getting redness to spread along his cheeks, only further sculpting his handsome bone structure you’ve grown so familiar with over the years. 

“What about you?” 

“Told my mum I’ll walk home instead. It’s not like it’s only a 20 minute walk anyway,” he mutters, rolling his eyes at the irony of you having to drive home despite living only a few meters away from him, in the same wealthy neighborhood. You grew up together, in the same mowed lawns, in the same green labyrinths of your families’ villas, in the same high ceilings and golden accents on the interior of your houses. After watching him from the corner of your eye, you start to wonder about what changed between the two of you that made you so weak to him now, that you’re both 18. Did he change? Was it the fact that you were now both adults? You don’t think that’s the case– because even though you were 18, there were no more responsibilities waiting for you than they were the years before. 

“My driver can take you,” you say, kicking the rocks below your feet, “well, unless you want to walk home alone instead,” you add, noting his previous sentence.

You see him take a sip out of his water bottle, shrugging at your suggestion. Chenle’s not a fan of inefficiency, no matter the fact that you can afford anything you could ever want. It’s a quality of him you find quite strange some days, but you don’t ponder on it too much. 

You’ve known each other since you were in diapers. And after replaying all the memories you have with the boy in your head, you think that your 18 year old self isn’t so stupid for falling for him. See– you’ve got to know a lot of men over the course of your life. Many tried to get with you barely before you even grew into an adult, seeing the vision of money and the social status you could give them. Some, on the other hand, never gave you back the attention you were giving them. All relationships you had in your life were blinded by the imaginary price tag you always carried around with yourself, and so everything always stayed surface-level and plain. No wonder you fell for Chenle– no matter how long it took you to get to this part of your friendship– he’s the only one that ever showed you his true self, he’s the only one that ever trusted you enough to go deeper in conversations with you and treated you like a real human being. You know him well and he knows you well; he’s like a book you always find yourself rereading, excited to find that your favorite characters always stayed the same. At the end of the day, you think you were always meant to fall for Chenle.

Standing under the blazing sun, you wait for your driver to get to the tennis courts. You wait for 10 minutes, then 15– and when you get a little too overheated, Chenle offers you his water bottle and mumbles something about being on time. When the time passes 45 minutes after your driver’s supposed arrival, your friend turns to you with a glint in his eye, a grin sitting on his annoyingly handsome face.

“Wanna walk home with me instead?”

And the truth is, you don’t find yourself disagreeing. And you also don’t find yourself hating the walk up the hills of the neighborhood– no matter how tiring it was to your already exhausted limbs– and you don’t find yourself complaining about the lack of AC or the vehicle driving your ass home to your, admittedly, too big of a house. Chenle entertains you with his talks– because he always talks too much for his own good– and when you stop paying attention to him and lose track of where you’re going, he drags you back to the sidewalk by your hand and your fingers stay interlocked when he teases you about the fact that you almost got ran over by a white Cadillac. 

“Listen, there’s this song I think you’ll like,” he hums when you’re 5 minutes away from your house, pulling out his phone out of his back pocket and opening up the Spotify app. He plays you a song by Ariana Grande, singing along to the lyrics of the chorus. His voice goes thin when he tries to mimic the singer’s voice, dragging along the english sentences of ‘it feels so good to be this young and have this fun and be successful, i’m so successful!’, irony seeping from his tone. Your hands are still intertwined as he swings them back and forth and you don’t even really care about the subtle implication of the lyrics he’s singing– because it’s Chenle, and despite being just as wealthy as you, he’s no stranger to calling you a snob. 

When you’re 18 and walking back from your weekly tennis endeavors, you can’t help but feel the fluttering in your heart when your friend twirls you around in your driveway, your white tennis skirt childishly fulfilling your unsaid dreams of becoming a ballerina, before he walks to his house standing on the opposite side of the road. 

You don’t even care that your poor driver got fired by your mother right after she realized he forgot to pick you up from the tennis court as much.

October 17, 2020 – a charity evening, Shanghai, 9:11 PM

Your whole life so far has been guided in the aura of money. When you were little, you didn’t realize it as much– your young, undeveloped brain couldn’t phantom the fact that your annual trips to Italy and summer vacations at yachts and in the Paris DisneyLand weren’t a normal occurrence to everyone. You couldn’t understand the value of money, and you think that maybe, you never truly will. Because you were born fortunate, never having to worry about a single thing, always living in wealth and with gold around your neck. 

The closest you are to understanding just how much money your family truly has is at the charity evenings you are forced to attend. Walking around, mostly bored– because truly, you didn’t have much of an idea just how much money you’re sending to the unfortunate parts of Africa and what the whole thing even has to do with you, when the money wasn’t really yours in the first place– you try to at least look through the flier your family made for the event, reading through the carefully crafted sentences, feeling at least a little sorry for everyone that doesn’t get to live the way you do.

“Isn’t it funny how this is the only way our families can present themselves in a good light?” Chenle mumbles when he reads over your shoulder, a dry chuckle leaving his lips.

Turning around to look at your companion, you furrow your brows at his snarky comment. “What do you mean?”

“Well, we give to charity so people don’t hate us as much,” Chenle shrugs, taking a sip from the champagne poured in a tall glass you’re pretty sure your mother spent hours and hours picking out when renting this place, just so everything could be perfect. 

“It’s just jealousy,” you say as you walk side-by-side with the boy, the expensive fabric of his white button-down hugging his body in all the right places, leaving you light-headed when you let yourself indulge in your thoughts for too long and stare at the curves of his forearms. It’s been a few months since you slept with your childhood friend– and while you must admit that you regretted it a little when you woke up in the morning, with a hangover and sore limbs, you also didn’t regret it as much as to turn the offer down when it was next brought to you. And the next time, and the next… 

“You think?” Chenle asks, and his interest in your answer seems genuine.

“Yeah,” you nod, shrugging to yourself, “we have more money than any of them ever will, so it’s only natural for people to feel jealous and talk spiteful things about us.”

Chenle hums at your answer, licking his lips before he looks you dead in the eye, the smallest glint of irony shining from behind the dark orbs, making you shrink under his gaze. “It’s not like it’s hard work anyway,” Chenle mutters, “if it wasn’t all stolen money, at least the charity work wouldn’t feel as fake.”

You stop in your tracks at the comment, furrowing your brows. “Stolen money?”

The boy next to you snickers at your clueless eyes. It’s no wonder you never really cared about the source of your family’s wealth– you were born to it, so you never had a reason to doubt it. And truth be told, you never really complained either. You don’t think anyone in your place would, really. You just accepted it the way it is, and you never asked any questions. For all you know, your parents are hard working business owners– you bet their money is well deserved for the amount of effort they put in– so to hear that it’s stolen money, from someone who is in a similar position as you, on top of that, you can’t believe your ears.

“I mean, they’re business owners. Let’s not act like both yours and my parents don’t meddle with the taxes at least a bit, sweetheart,” he chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief, “if I were all those people outside of it, I’d hate myself too.”

His words do little to comfort you. They do quite the opposite, really, and even though Zhong Chenle has no proof to show you of the fact that your parents might have at least a bit of dirty money on their hands, you can’t say you don’t trust a word that comes out of his mouth. You start to wonder if you’re that gullible– and who is the one lying straight to your eyes now, if it’s your friend or your parents– and you start to believe that you’d trust everything Chenle tells you, because that’s just the relationship you have with him. He could do anything and you’d follow him to the end of the world. It takes years to build that bond, and so even know, although you have the urge to scream at him for talking such things about the ones that brought you to this world– this perfect, shiny world– you find yourself holding back, the bubble around you bursting in a second, although you spent 19 years of your life living in the fake glory and bejeweled experience. Opening your mouth to ask him more about the matter– to get yourself out of the confusion you’ve been put in with just a few sentences uttered out of his always too-honest mouth, you turn to the boy when a man with a camera approaches the two of you, asking to take a picture of you.

And you comply, because what else are you supposed to do? This is how you’ve been raised. You smile for the pictures, you grin when you find yourself in the magazines, you nod when people recognise your name, you greet people with a polite nod, because you never know when someone wants to make business with your parents and you wouldn’t want to ruin good opportunities for them, would you?

With Chenle’s arm around your waist, your body instinctively leaning into his touch, you smile for yet another picture for the portfolio. Sometimes you feel like a princess– with everything it takes; both the royal responsibilities and the special treatment. More often than not, you find yourself enjoying the spotlight.

“Now they have proof that we were here,” Chenle mumbles into your ear, his lips gently brushing the smooth skin, “wanna get out of here? This party doesn’t look as enjoyable as the last one we went to,” the boy references the time you spent together at the cruise ship, with both the screaming on the dancefloor, and also the aftermath in your room, making heat puddle in your cheeks as you swat his hand away before it gets too low on your back in front of everyone in the room.

“I have to give a speech, but… maybe later?” you look at him, innocently batting your eyelashes at him, when the boy shrugs and takes a step back, downing the last drops of champagne from the expensive looking glass.

“I’ll be waiting back home,” Chenle says, “I bet our parents will stay until this all ends, so we have plenty of time for ourselves when you decide you’re tired of the gala.”

He disappears out of your sight the moment after, putting the empty glass onto a tray of one of the waiters carefully walking across the room, his back escaping out the front door. If you squint hard enough through the glass, you could see him getting into one of the sports cars he got from his parents for his 18th birthday– the vehicle driving off in the hands of his driver for the night, since he just had a glass of alcohol– and leaving you alone in the world of faux and feathers, fulfilling the responsibilities given to you by your mother. And for the first time– not only because you hate giving public speeches– you so desperately want to follow him, getting out before midnight like Cinderella, never attending another one of these evenings ever again. 

You don’t, though. You’re an obedient daughter.

And when you call him up from the entryway a few minutes after midnight, his rough hands welcoming you to his bedroom by undressing the thousand-dollar Tiffany dress you wore to the event– being the aftermath of his previous words or not, you start to think how ironic it is that your attire for the evening cost more than than the monthly rent of the people you were giving to in your speech. 

After a while, your words turn bitter.

March 23, 2020 – South Cape Owners Club, Namhae-gun, Gyeongsangnam-do, South Korea, 1:17 PM

“Did you really have to choose the most boring thing to do for your birthday?” Chenle mutters under his nose when all of your parents stride forward to get another hole in one, beads of sweat appearing on your foreheads as you stand directly under the midday sun. 

“This wasn’t my idea, okay?” Renjun huffs, carrying his golf equipment with him, the silly-looking golf gloves tugged right off his hands when his parents are no longer in sight. “All I wanted was to visit my grandma, but they decided we needed to do something special for my birthday, and when I couldn’t tell them anything I’d like to do, they dragged everyone to play golf.”

“I was thinking more like… clubbing and then crashing at your grandma’s place overnight, but okay…” Yizhuo snickers, watching as all of your parents joyfully talk between themselves, their conversation rarely leaving business matters as they play golf with as much enthusiasm as one can have while focusing on this boring sport. You don’t really know who made this game and why they made it– you can imagine seventy thousand different ways you’d love to spend your afternoon doing instead, more than a half of them supposedly more mundane than the sport itself; but you still know you’d enjoy even sitting down and getting ice cream better than having to pretend you’re interested in, what Chenle called, rich-people-only sport. 

“Maybe I can sneak a bottle up into my room later, but I’m not promising anything,” Renjun shrugs, sighing to himself as he takes out his phone from his back pocket and shakes his head at the sight of the time appearing on his screen. You’ve been at the golf course since 10 AM, and with how interested in the game your parents seem to be, you’re not leaving any time soon either.

Not really engaged in the conversation– because Chenle once told you you complain too much (you truly thought he was the one doing so, but you believe pretty much everything that comes out of the man’s mouth, because he’s mostly right about things) and you think you’ve done your fair share of complaining on your way to the golf course in the first place– you look around, trying to find a thing that could occupy your attention instead. Finding anything fun to do while playing golf may just be the hardest thing to do, but when you notice your companion Chenle missing and his figure appears striding towards your small group in a golf cart, the vehicle going full speed (even the barely 40 km/h looks like it could kill when he seems to not give a single damn about running you over), and suddenly, your mind is occupied enough.

Screeching when the golf cart barely misses your figure, you jump to the side and watch Chenle laugh from the driver’s seat. His malicious instincts barely ever leave his body and the operation of a golf cart is seemingly bringing out the worst in him– thank god he barely drives anymore– and you can’t help but laugh at his little stunt when the cart comes to a sharp halt and he waves you three over with a motion of his hand.

“Hop on, motherfuckers, we have places to be!” he says, all of you following his footsteps and jumping into the small vehicle– you in the passenger seat, next to Chenle, and Renjun and Yizhuo taking the two seats on the back. Once you’re all in, the engine grunts with the speed Chenle’s intending to get to in the weak thing, the atmosphere shifts into one with much more fun and adrenaline– because you know you’re not supposed to ride the carts (not this fast anyway) and when your parents find out, you’re gonna get in a lot of trouble. No, you’re not going to get grounded– you’re not a kid anymore– but the silent treatment and nagging from them about being well-raised and respectable members of society is enough to leave you scared of their anger for the rest of your lives.

“Slow down, I’m gonna fall out!” you scream when Chenle takes a sharp turn, the golf cart almost toppling over on the green grass. 

“I got you, don’t worry,” he notes, one of his hands loosely falling to your thigh to keep you in place, your skin heating up even more from his touch now, enjoying the hold but also fearing the eyes of your friends from the backseat. Your earlier terror is quickly erased with another sharp turn the driver takes– having much more things to worry about now, surviving being one of them– and when he zooms past the group of middle-aged people standing a few meters ahead of you, you already know you’re in big trouble.

Now you’re gonna get scolded for abducting a golf cart. When it wasn’t even your idea in the first place.

Well, that’s something to worry about later.

Chenle drives with the cart all over the golf course, the vehicle providing you enough entertainment for the next few minutes until you get tired of the ride. Looking over at him on your side, gaping a little at the view of your childhood friend driving the cart with only one hand, the other one still securely glazing your thigh, you almost choke out with how attractive the strange sight is to your eyes. Forcing yourself to focus on the road– and thank god, because if you didn’t hold to the side of the cart now, you’d surely fall out despite Chenle’s reassuring words and his hold on your leg– when the man cuts through a small hill in the golf course, the vehicle jumping up and falling back down making you scream in terror mixed with just a bit of excitement.

“Fucking hell, at least warn us before!” Renjun screams from the back, followed by Yizhuo’s amused laughter. You can only imagine Renjun’s almost fallen out, and even though the mental image looks hilarious, you really don’t need him to get hurt today, because he wouldn’t shut up about it for the next 8 working days. And it’s his birthday, after all– you wouldn’t wanna ruin it by having too much fun.

And so, with a last giggle escaping the boy’s throat, Chenle brings the golf cart to a halt, the vehicle stopping far enough from your parents to not get scolded immediately for making so much ruckus at the golf cart, the four of you enjoying the silence, still recovering from the wild ride. Smiling fondly to yourself and gaping at the boy next to you again, you suddenly grow appreciative of him. If it wasn’t for his wild nature, you would still be sulking somewhere on the golf course, pretending to enjoy living your snobby life alongside your parents. You bet even Renjun himself will find this moment captured in his brain as a core birthday memory, and the more you stare at Chenle’s side profile, the more you want to hold his face in your hands and thank him.

“Ew,” you hear Yizhuo’s voice from behind you, bringing you out of your thoughts. Looking back to see what she’s referring to, you watch her gaze landing on Chenle’s hand playing with the flesh on your thigh, heat suddenly rising to your cheeks in being caught in the exact position you feared a little while ago. 

“What–” Chenle snaps his head back at his cousin, while you quickly shrug his palm off your skin, but it’s too late now– you’ve been caught in the act and now you can’t do anything to erase Ning Yizhuo’s memory.

“You know, I thought you two were cousins at first. Like, from your dad’s side, I mean,” Yizhuo sighs, shaking her head in disbelief at the two of you, her comment not doing much to ease the situation either. Chenle seems to be confused at her words, his face scrunching up as he glares at the girl.

“We’re not,” you note, clearing your throat and looking at her with a glare, mentally praying for her to drop the topic.

“Yeah, thank god,” Chenle adds, and you should’ve expected him to make the situation even worse– it’s Zhong Chenle, after all– but his next words shock you and leave you gasping, mentally killing him right here and in this moment, “that would make a lot of things weird.”

“Ew,” Yizhuo repeats, and suddenly, that perks up Renjun’s attention– the boy previously facing the other side of the golf course and not paying you three much care– as he looks around and watches you with confusion in his features.

“What are you talking about?”

“That they are–” the girl takes it upon herself to explain her findings, but she’s quickly cut off by a sound of a middle-aged woman screaming through the place, her small figure striding towards the golf cart.

“Zhong Chenle, what do you think you’re doing?!”

And with that scolding tone, the previous topic is dropped. Thank god.

June 12, 2020 – Zhong Chenle’s room, Shanghai, 11:21 PM

A hand stroking through his hair, smoothing back the bangs and revealing his forehead in the dim blue of the neon light in his room, you lay on your side next to your friend Chenle, a blanket carelessly thrown over your half-naked middles to shield you from the breeze. You hum a song under your breath as you play with his locks, the black disappearing between your fingers like sand, eyes carefully watching his tired expression. 

If you thought hard enough, you could see the little boy you first met at your parent’s conference room when you were 3 materialize in front of your eyes. His cheeks were chubby and he was short, waddling behind you almost a head less than your size, and his voice was thin as he asked you for your name. From that moment on, you knew you were supposed to stick together– and while your parents were the first relative to bring you two together, you didn’t mind always being glued to each other’s hips. 

When you look closer at him now, it’s hard to see that boy in him. Harder than you expected, if you’re being totally honest. Don’t get me wrong, you can still see in his features– even though his cheekbones are more prominent now and his jaw is more chiseled, lips plumper and his figure built more firmly than when he was a little boy– but there’s something about his demeanor that completely changed over time. He seems less enthusiastic, and while one would think that it’s just him growing into being a more laid-back and relaxed person– he’s not a kid anymore, after all– you think there’s something more to it, you just can’t quite put your finger to it. 

Seeing him close his eyes every once in a while, lids falling under the weight of his tiredness and the comfort your gentle strokes through his scalp give him, you feel your heart clench with all the care you’re currently putting into the boy, and all that you’ve been putting into him throughout your growing up. After so many years– after getting so close and intimate with him– you don’t think you’d be able to let the boy go, and just the sheer image of ever losing him or leaving him behind leaves you trembling with anxiety. 

And so, despite being afraid of ruining the calm atmosphere that comes after making love to him, you speak up with a weak voice, contrasting to what you’re logically supposed to feel after getting to know the news this morning– just because you have to know. 

“Lele?” you mumble, hearing him let out a hum, his voice sounding as if he’s half-asleep, but you know he’s listening to you. “What are your plans… after you graduate?” you ask. The day of graduation is coming faster and faster towards you, the years you’ve spent at high school finally fulfilled after all the effort you put in on your finals.

“Dunno,” he replies, eyes barely opened as his arm that’s been previously laid on the mattress in between your two bodies moves to your hip, fingers drumming over the soft skin, “why?”

“Just wondering…” you speak, voice barely louder than a whisper. The boy stays silent– his eyes once again closing on themselves as you continue to play with his hair. One would think he’s fallen asleep, not awake enough to have this conversation, and you would even believe the fact and let the conversation go, thinking you’d find another time to dwell on this topic, but then, as a surprise, his voice startles you from your deep thoughts when he curiously inquires you, the hand on your hip steadying.

“What about you?”

Taking a deep breath in and out, a smile battling to take over your lips, you lick your lips in the heartbeat that comes before your answer. Swallowing your nerves– because even though you should’ve told him the moment you got the news this morning, you’re somehow stressed out about the action of doing so– you open your mouth and finally break the rules to him. 

“I… I got to Yale,” you say, on your toes. The joy and relief you felt this morning when you saw the email appear on your phone screen is daring to creep into the way you speak to Chenle right now, but you’re keeping it in. Not letting yourself scream and shout the accomplishment from the rooftops, you look at the boy, not a change appearing on his face at hearing your announcement. “I got into their business program,” you add anxiously, waiting for him to say something– anything– to your news.

As your friend, he’s supposed to be happy for you, isn’t he? He’s supposed to hug you now and squeeze you and tell you how you’ve done a good job and that he’s proud of you and that he’s cheering you on in your dream. None of it comes, though, as he only hums and nods at your sentences, not even bothering to open his eyes to look at you when you oh so excitedly talk to him about your life goals. 

Something inside of you breaks just the tiniest bit, your mood falling as you anxiously chew on the inside of your cheek.

“Are you not gonna say anything?” you demand, halting your movements through his raven locks, averting your touch and looking at him curiously.

You watch him as he finally opens his eyes and looks at you with an empty look, licking his lips before humming again and asking you in a tone of voice that barely meets interest or excitement. “So you’re gonna be a businesswomen like your mum when you get your degree?” he asks, nodding to himself.

“Yeah,” you answer, clearing your throat. You’re a little confused at his weird stance towards the topic, but you battle out a tight-lipped smile. “I’m hoping for it.”

He hums again, the noise seemingly enough for him to consider it a valid conversation holder, a deadpan: “Good,” leaving his lips after a second, making you furrow your brows in confusion and utter disappointment. This is not the way you imagined the conversation to go– this is not how you wanted it to go at all.

Heaving out a sigh, you tug your arm to yourself, contemplating on speaking up– knowing you’re just gonna make everything worse if you do– but doing so anyway. “That’s all you’re gonna say?”

“I mean, what else is there to say?” 

Looking at him in disbelief, your face scrunching up in various different emotions, all mixing into one– disappointment being the dominant feel, you think, you scoff at him. This is not Zhong Chenle as you know him, and sure, he hasn’t been the most overly-excited, cheerful individual these past few months, but you still think you deserve at least a bit of praise for the achievement of getting into one of the hardest universities to get to in the world, no?

“I don’t know, you could… congratulate me, I guess…? Tell me I did a good job, I dunno… would be nice,” you mutter, snickering once more to prove your irritation with the man.

“Oh,” he says, looking genuinely surprised, taken-aback, even, “well, congrats on the legacy admission, I guess,” he says, nonchalant, as if his words aren’t a dagger to your heart each second that passes, your blood pressure rising as the reality downs on you that he’s being serious and that this is not a sick joke.

“The legacy admission?” you repeat, eyes big and shocked, your whole body moving an inch away from him on the bed without you realizing.

“Yeah,” he shrugs, not a bit caring about breaking you from the inside, the humiliation slowly creeping from the tips of your fingertips to the depths of your soul.

“So you’re saying I went through the whole admission process and put in so much effort only for you to say that I got in because of stupid legacy?” you chirp, gazing at him with sharp eyes, blood boiling from the impact of his words. “What legacy are you even talking about?”

“Don’t act like you’re not a nepo baby,” he snickers, rolling his eyes.

Gasping at his words, baffled at the unexpected reaction, you stand up on the bed and stare at him with sharp eyes. At a loss for words, you stutter a little when you speak up again and utter out the next words, hoping to hit him where it hurts. “Like you’re not?”

“Never said I’m not,” he shrugs, “don’t have a problem with admitting I am.”

“So you’re saying I only got to university because of my parents,” you get out, glossy eyes scanning his peaceful figure, “so you’re saying I’m not smart enough to get into Yale?” 

“That’s not what I said–”

“But you implied.”

“You only hear what you want to hear,” Chenle sighs, as if he was tired of your antics, which only makes you more furious at the whole interaction.

“No, Chenle–” you stutter, his name rolling off your tongue as if it was meant to stop him with hurting you even more for discrediting your efforts, yet, you can’t find any more words to say to him as you stare at this limb body laying on the soft mattress of his king sized bed, shaking your head in disbelief.

Standing up from the bed and scattering around the room for your clothes, ignoring the way putting them on in front of him makes you feel like you’ve been stripped away from all your dignity, you hurriedly come to the door of his bedroom, almost forgetting your phone that you gather on your way out from the messy desk in the right corner of the room. 

“Where are you going?” he asks monotonously, watching you move through the place.

“Home,” you bark out, running your hand through your hair as you walk back to the door, ignoring the hot tears pricking your eyes at the feeling of your whole entire world collapsing in on you when he mourns from the bed.

“Don’t be mad, it’s not like I said anything bad…”

“Goodnight,” you snap, not bothering to look back at him as you escape his house in the middle of the night, running through the street to your house much earlier than you anticipated, wiping at your cheeks with angry palms. 

This is the first time he disappointed you, and you can’t tell if that felt worse, or if it was the excitement slowly and painfully stripping off your bones, making you feel like you’re running around without your flesh, completely see-through for everyone around.

June 27, 2020 – IFC Mall, Shanghai, 4:33 PM

“Do you think this makes my ass look extra hot?” Yizhuo asks, gaze shifting from you to Chenle to Renjun, the four of you currently in one of the designer shops at the mall. Leaning on the wall, arms crossed on your chest and chewing on the inside of your cheek, you shrug, not a word escaping your mouth.

“I’m your cousin, I’m not looking at your ass like that,” Chenle mutters under his nose, sighing as he takes a seat on one of the expensive looking sofas situated in the changing room, resting his head against the neck rest and closing his eyes in what seems to be tiredness or annoyance– either of, or both mixed in, equal parts.

“Oh come on, I need to know!”

“It does look super hot, Yizhuo, now can you–”

“So you are staring at my butt!” Yizhuo excitedly yelps, pointing a sharp finger towards Renjun, a bright grin settling onto her lips when the accused boy stutters, cheeks reddening at her comment.

“You literally asked us to, for fuck’s sake!”

“You could’ve refused, just like Chenle did,” she shrugs, smiling to herself in victory. If anyone was listening to your conversation right now, they would surely have a lot of questions you wouldn’t be able to respond to. Hell, even you’re confused half of the time you hang out with Ning Yizhuo– what the hell is going on in her head?

“He’s your family, of course he refused,” Renjun mutters, shaking his head as he drags a hand through his hair in despair.

“Whatever you say, Renjunie,” she chirps, closing the curtain behind her and changing back into the pants she wore when she got to the store in one swift motion, leaving the boy puzzled with her next words as she walks up to the counter, “I’m only buying those because you think I look super hot in them, just so you know.”

Paying for her things and escaping the store, the rest of you tagging along, you notice the boy aimlessly trying to forget about the whole situation, and his prayers were listened to, after all, since Yizhuo seems to drop the topic after teasing him so much, turning to you instead. Walking alongside with you, leaving the two boys a few steps ahead, she nudges you with her elbow, raising up her brow in question.

“What’s up with you? You haven’t even tried anything on,” she notes, “and we both know you’ve been eyeing that new LV collection, so there must be something bothering you.”

Sighing, hating that the girl knows you so well– that, or you’re being awfully obvious– you roll your eyes in annoyance and try to shrug the topic off. “It’s nothing, I’m fine.”

“Well, that’s obviously a lie. Is it something with Chenle? You two are usually all over each other, so–”

“It’s not about Chenle,” you snap, cutting the poor girl off, “so drop it.”

“Did he say something stupid? I know my cousin, come on. I can slap some sense into him, sweetheart, just let me know–”

“Please let it be,” you insist, tone of voice almost a little too sharp for your own liking, but it seemingly does its job as your friend only shrugs and takes a sip out of the coffee you all bought when getting to the mall, catching up to the men a few steps in front of you, talking about basketball.

“Well, if you need to talk to anyone about it, you know where to find me,” she says, and joins the discourse with her cousin and the boy she’s been teasing for whatever reason for the last few weeks instead, leaving you to trail behind them like a lost puppy, deep in your thoughts.

It’s been a few weeks since you last talked to Chenle. He tried reaching out to you a few times, sending you texts to ask what you’re doing that day to see if you wanna hang out. It seemed that at first, he didn’t really understand that he upset you. After you continued to ignore him even on graduation day, only greeting him and sparing him a few words, he seemed to get the memo as he let you deal with your emotions by yourself instead. You were never given an apology– and truthfully, knowing Chenle, you didn’t even expect to get one in the first place. But still, it’s been bugging you and you couldn’t get his words out of your brain, because you know you can’t do anything about them– if this is the image he has of you, the opinion he created, you don’t think you can talk it out with him in the first place.

“Everything okay back there?” Chenle asks, looking behind at you. His eyes are big and honest, and you find yourself nodding to his caring question. Sparing him a word seems like too much effort right now, and so when he offers you a tight-lipped smile, you don’t have enough energy to reciprocate it.

“Princess Yizhuo here has sore feet, so we are calling it a day. You wanted anything from the mall? I can stay behind with you and go get it,” he continues, his words jabbing into you only reminding you more of the days you spent ignoring him. Realistically, he should be mad at you for it– maybe you even wanted that to happen so he would ignore you instead, giving you the silent treatment, but this is your childhood friend Zhong Chenle we’re talking about. He talks too much in situations where he should shut up instead, and that’s exactly what’s happening in this very moment as well.

“I’m good,” you note, shrugging as you throw the empty coffee cup into one of the bins on your way, your small group now escaping the mall and getting to the parking lot.

Walking towards Chenle’s Zenvo TS1 parked in the corner of the parking lot, you hear the chatter of the group resonating in your ears, not really engaging in the conversation yourself, but choosing to listen to feel included anyway. It’s not their fault that you’re not in the mood, and frankly, you’re glad they even invited you to the outing in the first place. Everything’s better than being left out in your books, even if it means forcing yourself into social interaction. 

“My driver should be here any minute,” Yizhuo smiles, waving at Renjun currently getting into his Porsche Cayenne that he got after you all arrived from his birthday trip to Korea. Watching the boy drive off– while listening to Chenle bitching about his driving (he does have a point though, the poor boy almost crashed into a pole on his way out) – you feel a nudge to your elbow, making you turn to your friend.

“Wanna get back with me, neighbor?” he asks, eyebrows raised in question. 

In any other circumstance, you wouldn’t miss a heartbeat before answering. But now, you ponder on the question for a bit– you got to the mall with Yizhuo, having hanged out with her at her place before– but now that she’s getting a drive home, there was no use in you tagging along with her, since you live quite far from her house. Getting a drive home from Chenle is the most logical solution, after all, and that’s why you find yourself nodding.

Jumping to the passenger’s seat, waving at Yizhuo still waiting for her driver to get there– it should take only about 5 more minutes, with the speed her driver can get to when called– you silently gaze out of the window on your way back, not sparing the boy next to you a glance. He seems to not mind, carefully taking turns and waiting at the stop signs and red lights on his way to your neighborhood, humming along under his breath to the songs on the radio instead to fill the silence. You spend the ride chewing on your cheek, nerves eating you up from inside just at the sheer fact of being in his close proximity again, yet still being so painfully hurt at the feelings he expressed the last time you hung out one-on-one.

His car smoothly gets to the parts of the town that feel more rich– houses growing bigger in size, the gates taller in the sky and the lawns mowed more carefully, with more fancy bushes in the yards and pure-blood dogs running around in front of the gates. After a few minutes, your neighborhood appears in front of your eyes, his car driving past your house and into the Zhong property instead, making you furrow your brows in confusion and annoyance.

“You could’ve just stopped in front of my house so I could get out, you know,” you hum, sighing when he turns the engine off. 

“I was thinking we could hang out over at ours for a sec,” he shrugs, turning his face to you with a hopeful glint in his eye, which you dismiss with an annoyed huff and a roll of your eyes, reaching towards the door handle to get out and walk over to your house instead. 

“Come on, Y/N,” he calls for you, “are you still mad?”

“No,” you snicker, shrugging as you move towards the front gates, his figure quickly catching up to you as he grabs your wrist, halting you in your movements.

“I’m sorry. Let me make it out to you?” he mumbles, looking at you with eyes big and deep like honey, and suddenly, you’re a putty under his touch– just like always, you cave in– as you sigh, following him inside. You don’t miss the victorious pep in his step as he leads you inside, his hand still in contact with your arm, only letting go when you get to his room and he leads you to sit on his bed.

“Wanna play something?” he asks, thrusting a PS5 controller into your hands, not really leaving you much room for disapproval. Grunting and rolling your eyes at him, you watch as he opens up It takes two, your characters running around the split screen trying to figure out the way around.

The silence between the two of you is cruciating, suffocating, even, as neither of you have enough courage to open up the topic again. Tugging at your bottom lip, biting off the dry skin up to the point it bleeds, you sigh and turn to the boy again, putting the controller down. “Is this your way of making it up to me?” you ask.

Cocking his head to you, he shrugs. “I mean, I had a different idea, but that’s up for a discussion…” he mutters, the suggestion of his words making you roll your eyes at him, in disbelief of the fact that he still has the audacity to tease when he knows you’re clearly upset with him.

“Okay, I’m… really sorry, okay?” he says when he registers your mood, sighing to himself and running a hand through his hair. “I kinda fucked up, and I realise that. I didn’t mean to imply that you’re stupid, or anything– come on, I always cheated off you on exams, after all– so, I just- it came off wrong, is what I’m tryna say,” he concludes, looking at you hopefully, his face seemingly in tune with the words coming out of his mouth.

Humming, you shrug, not really knowing what to say. The apology settles a little in you, noting that at least he acknowledged that he fucked up, and so you pick up the controller again and avert your gaze from him. Seeing as his character refuses to move, you look at him from the corner of your eye, raising your brows in question.

“So you forgive me?” he asks, licking his lips in nerves– the action making your eyes travel down to the plump rosiness, involuntarily following his action. His glistening mouth has your gaze wandering around his body, eyes focusing on things you’ve been purposefully ignoring the whole day– the way his forearms show off in his short-sleeved shirt, the way his hair is parted in a way that shows his forehead in the most strangely attractive ways, and also the ever-so casual demeanor of the male. Chuckling to yourself, you shrug, taunting him.

“I dunno,” you mumble, “how can you make it up to me?”

And again, Chenle gets the hint– he’s not stupid, after all. 

Slowly lounging himself towards you, making you drop the controller to his sheets, you close your eyes in expectancy of his touch, already so used to the rhythm of his lips against yours. His hand holds your jaw in place, firm kisses pressed to your yearning mouth, you try to remember the way his touch feels– just in case you have to give it up soon again– a selfish action of your body as you thread your fingers through his hair. 

Lips ghosting over yours, he snickers against them as he speaks. “You taste of blood,” he notes.

“Shut up,” you mutter, taking matters into your own hands as you lock yourself to him again, pressing shaky, hurried kisses to his lips. 

He finds a better place to attach them to, though, as he gently pushes you towards his mattress into a lying position, traveling towards your jaw and your neck. His touch never stays long enough to leave a mark– at least not in places visible for everyone to see, saving you a lot of explaining to your parents and your friends– but the kisses still leave you breathless and yearning for more, hands traveling down his back and humming in pleasure.

“Missed this,” he speaks against your skin, breathless, “so much.”

“Missed my body or me?” you ask, a hint of bitterness on your tongue.

“A bit of both,” he smirks, gently sucking on the skin of your collarbone, leaving you to squirm under the feathery touch. Hands traveling up under your shirt, his fingers trailing across your belly and the curve of your hip, you’re left shivering under the contrast of the heated atmosphere and his stone-cold hands, giggling when he presses an unusually sweet kiss to your cheek in between the more risky ones.

“And which one did you miss more?” you tease, locking eyes with him as he hovers over your body, plopped up by an arm on either side of your head.

His eyes glimmer as he stares you down, cocking his head to the side. “I miss when you didn’t talk,” he says, leaning down again and taking your breath away with a kiss, a displeased grunt meeting his lips as you disapprove of his snarky comment.

In the sheer second where you two break away for air, his hands undress your top, leaving you under him just in your underwear, a position you two have found yourselves in a number of times before. Still, it leaves you shy away under his hungry eyes, only relaxing again when his raven locks tickle the underside of your jaw, lips attaching to every inch of your now exposed body, not afraid of bruising the skin you always keep covered, out of everyone’s eyes. Sometimes, you yearn for him to plant a lovebite to your jaw, to the juncture of your shoulder and your neck, wanting to show them off to everyone and claim the boy as yours– you know you don’t have that power, though, when Zhong Chenle will never be yours and the bruises of desire are always hidden away from everyone, like a dirty little secret; much like what you two have going on in the first place anyway.

“You know,” he mutters against your skin, in between the kisses that have now grown lazier, “I was starting to get a little crazy when you ignored me. That was a first,” he says.

Snickering, hands once again finding their place in his locks, you shrug. “Was the first time you deserved it.”

“Does my opinion really matter to you that much?” he asks, chuckling as he presses another kiss to your skin, to a place a few inches below your collarbone.

“We’ve been friends forever,” you say, “‘course it does.”

“Well, then you should’ve known that as your friend,” he huffs, lips pressed against your skin, “‘m not looking down on you.”

Humming, you let him work his magic as his lazy kisses inch closer to the fabric of your bra, his other hand playing with the fabric of it, twirling the little bow in between your breasts in his fingers as he leans on one of his plopped-up hands, looking at you from the side. 

“Guess I was just more curious about what you wanted to do after school, y’know,” you say, the conversation flowing despite his hands all over you, “before you called me a nepo baby, of course.”

He chuckles at your remark, rolling his eyes at you as his finger trails up your side, your skin growing goosebumps under his touch. “Dunno yet. Why do you care?”

“Wanted to see how far we’re gonna be,” you say, the moment suddenly growing more intimate. The relationship you two have was never inclusive– you two had sex sometimes, sure, but you never once told each other this was more than that. You two were just mere fuck buddies, childhood friends that found sexual attraction in each other somewhere along the way, and while that was enough for you for a while, you found yourself growing anxious of the fact that he was never going to be fully yours. And with the growing anxiety– the smallest remainder of your worries that overtake you in the middle of the night sometimes– your throat closes up on itself when you choke out the next words. “Wanted to see how much time we have left together.”

His hand settles on your hip, his eyes bearing into yours with a newly found heaviness in them. Furrowing his brows, he licks his lips in nerves before speaking up. “Well, I’ll always be your neighbor, so you can find me when you come back. Unless we move, y’know…” he jokes, an airy laugh coming out his lungs that doesn’t meet the expected intention of easing the situation.

You chuckle– but there’s not a hint of lightheartedness in the gesture, quite the opposite, really– as you avert your gaze from him, your head lollying to the side when you try to hide your slowly, but surely growing red eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”

The hand on your hip squeezes the skin under it, his figure now fully hovering over you again, eyes desperately wanting to meet yours. A finger gently pressed to your chin makes you turn your head back forward, his worried gaze bearing into you, and for a moment, you two only stare into each other’s eyes, frozen in time. 

And again, Zhong Chenle isn’t stupid. 

But for a second, he acts like he is. 

“What are you talking about?” he chuckles. “You’re scaring me.”

And when you don’t give him an answer, but instead chew on the inside of your cheek– another place to bleed after you bite down too hard from the nerves crushing you from the inside– he seems to finally get the hint, an airy laugh full of disbelief meeting your ears. Having figured it out, still, he speaks it into existence– as if he needed a confirmation; 8 words tormentingly escaping from between his swollen lips.

“You don’t have feelings for me, do you?”

Sniffling, you shut your eyes close at the question, your silence a clear answer to your childhood friend as he peels himself off you, the feeling of cold air on your exposed skin like a painful slap to reality. You stay like that for some time, mentally counting seconds, each hammer of your heart in your chest like a threat to your existence. Finally, the silence is broken by a determined, yet a little weak sentence coming out of Chenle’s mouth.

“I think you have to leave.” 

Numb, you follow the orders.

July 25, 2020 – Ning Yizhuo’s room, Shanghai, 6:11 PM

“So I was right all along?” Yizhuo snickers, eating from the bowl of almonds she has settled in the free space between her lap and her crossed legs, staring at you with the hydrating sheet mask on her face. You heave out a sigh at her comment, rolling your eyes as you fall back into her soft mattress, shaking your head in disbelief.

“That’s all you got from this conversation?” 

“Almost,” she mumbles, but nudges you with her foot right after, “I’m joking. I was listening, I’m just… shocked that I was actually right and that you were fucking my cousin all along.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not happening anymore, so you don’t have to be disturbed,” you grunt, wondering why you actually told the girl in the first place, regretting the decision perhaps the most right now. Yes, she did bug you for the last few weeks about the reasoning behind your attitude, and the fact that you refused all the invitations to hang out with your friends in fear of seeing Chenle were starting to get a bit suspicious, so you figured you can’t hide it anymore and that Yizhuo was bound to find out either way sooner or later. And still, you think you needed a bit of girl advice too.

“‘m not disturbed,” she mumbles, voice suddenly considerate, “I just- the whole situation is all kinds of weird and fucked up right now.”

“Tell me about it,” you chuckle, the bitter taste on your tongue never leaving despite trying to drown your sorrow down in sweets. “I fucked it up, Yizhuo.”

“Now, that’s just not true,” she sighs, putting the bowl of almonds to her coffee table and laying next to you, reaching for your hand and swinging it around in failed acts of encouragement and affection. “It’s not your fault he freaked out and made it weird.”

“I made it weird!” you mourn, breaking away from her grasp and dragging your hands through your hair in frustration, the feelings bundling in your stomach making you feel like acid is just bound to shoot out of the crevices of your insides, throwing up from the stress and despair. “I’m moving across the world the next month and I won’t see any of you for a long time, since Jun is moving to Korea and you’re gonna work in your parent’s company as well as going to uni here, and instead of spending the last moments of summer break together, I fucked it up and made everything weird and awkward just because I had to fall in love with my childhood best friend. While we’d been fucking. Isn’t that fucking great?” you huff, closing your eyes shut with the tears threatening to fall down your cheeks at your own words falling from between your lips.

“We are spending time together right now, though,” Yizhuo tries to cheer you up, her pout heard in her tone.

“There are millions of different ways you’d love to spend your time with me instead of moping because of your cousin,” you note, sighing, “and I don’t even fucking know what he’s gonna do after summer break, and now, I won’t get to know.”

Yizhuo grows quiet next to you, suggesting the thickening atmosphere. Turning on your side to see your friend with her eyes glued to your figure, you chew on the inside of your cheek. She sighs, preparing herself for the mental tangent she’s gonna bring you on, and reaches over to smooth down your messy hair. 

“You know, Chenle never really liked… this life,” she says, shrugging, “he hates shopping, he hates hearing about investing, he hated traveling so much when you and your family didn’t tag along… At every family reunion, he just hid away in his room and never got out, because he found the whole situation snobby and fake and all those adjectives I’ve never really thought about calling my own relatives. He… he…” she licks her lips, trying to come up with the right words to say, “he sees the world around us with different eyes, and I don’t think he’s happy with it. So don’t- don’t be mad at him for not really… going anywhere with it, okay?” 

Furrowing your brows at her, you shake your head in confusion. This is perhaps the first time you really realized Chenle’s view on things– it’s not like you haven’t heard his annoyed rants about all the prestige and over-the-top lifestyle you all have, but that’s all you thought it was. Annoyance– because at the end of the day, your life is comfortable. You wouldn’t want it any other way. If money moves the world around, you were the one walking through every hallway, all opportunities opened up in front of your eyes; and you don’t think you’d enjoy your life more if you had a bit less money. Chenle, on the other hand, seems to be quite the opposite. His joy is not determined by money, and for the first time in your life, it seems like you’re getting what he’s been talking about your whole life, the words you heard but never truly listened to. It was right in front of you the whole time, but you never saw it, and now that your eyes have been opened, you find it hard to deal with the revelation.

“But what is he going to do?” you gurgle out, confused. 

“I don’t think he knows either,” Yizhuo shrugs, “he’s… figuring out things, I suppose.”

Chuckling, you shut your eyes in despair, thinking for a bit, but still failing to grasp the situation. “I don’t get it. He- he could have everything, but he’s just… throwing everything away? He could move across the world, he could start his own company, he could buy a house or work or study, but he just won’t,” you ramble, “I don’t get it.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Yizhuo shrugs, “but he sees it a different way.”

Laying flat on your back, eyes glued to the ceiling, your friend clears her throat and awkwardly shuffles around her sheets. “And at the end of the day, even though you’ve been friends for forever, I think you’re just in love with the version of him that you’ve created in your head. The version that you’re trying, but cannot fix,” she notes, pausing for a moment before proceeding,  “the only person you can fix is yourself.”

And maybe, Yizhuo’s right. Maybe you fell in love with the Chenle in his sports car, Chenle in the golf cart with his designer clothes on, Chenle on the cruise ship sipping on expensive alcohol. Maybe you fell in love with the version that has the whole world in the palm of his hand, the version of him that goes to Yale with you and rents out a luxurious apartment in the middle of the city, kissing you behind the tall windows, watching over the busy streets– the version in your dreams, the version you wanted to achieve.

But what about the version of him that walked you to your house after tennis class? What about the version of him that cuddled you in his sheets, the version of him that fell asleep soundly when you played with his hair, cradled your fingers through his scalp? What about the version of him that scared you in the dark, because he knew you get creeped out too easily, the version of him that ate cheap sausage with you in Japan, the version of him that studied with you and brought you to your bed when you fell asleep at the table? What about the version of him that cried to Disney movies with you, the version of him that danced with you to the tunes of One Direction in your room when you were sixteen, the version of him that threw rocks on your window in the moonlight the night you turned seventeen, wanting to be the first one to wish you happy birthday before slipping inside of your room in the middle of the night, only to fall asleep seconds later, huddling your sheets?

Did you make that up? Was that not him in the first place?

And maybe, there is a discrepancy between the dream you’ve made up in your head with him, the idea of you two staying together, trying to fix the view he has on the world you two live in, but at the end of the day, none of it was a lie. 

And maybe, Yizhuo’s right; you should change the way you view things to match Chenle’s better, because at the end of the day, maybe you’re the one too blinded by the gold and silver around your neck to see the real issue here.

August 2, 2020 – Lehai Villas, Baicheng, China, 10:15 PM

When you finally see Zhong Chenle after the night he kicked you out of his bedroom, both of you are a mess. 

You’re a mess in the more subtle sense. Your dress is neat, the jewelry on your neck was carefully picked out days before, the heels enveloping your feet are one of the most comfortable ones for you to walk in, since you prepared yourself for being on your feet the whole evening. Your makeup is fixed on your face, earrings dangling off your ears and your purse matches the outfit perfectly; your hair in a fancy updo that you even drove to a hairdresser for, all so that you could look flawless for another one of your parent’s gatherings. Their business partner’s son is turning 21, and while it doesn’t look like that big of a deal, they are celebrating the fact that Mark Lee is now one of the shareholders of their company– and in your world, this is the most moving moment of the child’s life.

You’re a mess in the more subtle sense– you keep looking around, restless, not really paying attention to anything anyone is saying. Aimlessly humming and picking at the skin of your cuticles, you try hard to both catch a glance of your friend, and to also avoid him at all costs. The reality that Zhong Chenle is a mess too hits you only when you finally see him– his tie loose on his neck, a grunt escaping his throat that you can hear from all the way to where you are, his walking a little wobbly and his hair messy as he runs his hand through the sprayed-down locks, his composure disheveled and so obviously out of the place.

And you want to stay away, you really do– to let him deal with his own things by himself, to pretend you weren’t cautiously looking for him all evening– but when he picks up another glass of alcohol from one of the tables and downs it in one go, cheeks getting rosier by the minute, you wonder how far you can let him go until he gets into trouble with his parents; and suddenly, you’re on your feet, just like you expected, dragging your figure closer to the one you’ve been trying to avoid.

“Don’t you think you’ve drunk enough?” you mumble when you appear behind him, his shoulders slouching at the tone of your voice. When he looks around and catches your eyes, he snickers to himself, shrugging, before he makes a face full of disgust at your remark.

“We’re celebrating, aren’t we?” he says, “Mark Lee’s a big man now, taking all the responsibility for a company that’s so great, and he loves the job so much,” he continues, over-exaggerating every word, “and we’re here to celebrate his birthday! Have you… seen the motherfucker anywhere, by the way? Would wanna congratulate him on… the thing…” he trails off, dramatically scratching his head as he speaks the last words.

“Chenle–”

“Right! We are celebrating a guy we don’t even know, or seen the whole evening, but that’s so great, because at least we have all this alcohol–”

“Okay, you’re getting out of here,” you snap, shaking your head at his antics and digging your nails into his forearm, dragging the boy out of the crowded place before he throws a tantrum. With how his voice was getting louder and louder, a few figures turned to watch your exchange, and you can’t imagine the turmoil this will take on him once his parents find out– it’s better to get him out of there before he messes up even more badly.

His feet stumbling on the stairs outside, he mutters something under his breath as you drag his half-limp, half-stubborn body through the enormous land. The gardens are full of fairy lights and adults talking to each other in hushed whispers, laughter erupting out of their put-together figures every now and then, and you take some time before you finally manage to find a silent corner in one of the carefully mowed gardens, Chenle’s complains silencing after a while, admitting his fate.

Carelessly throwing his body towards one of the benches, the lighting dim in the corner, you watch as he takes a seat and looks at you with defeated eyes, the emptiness behind his gaze breaking you on so many levels you didn’t even think you could master; Zhong Chenle is a mess– has been a mess for a while now, and you didn’t notice– you didn’t do anything about it until now.

“What happened to you?!” you yelp out, voice betraying you somewhere towards the end of the sentence, sounding more desperate than you intended. Eyes scanning over his slouching body, you notice him playing with his fingers in his lap, an action of calming himself down that he’s picked up after you slapped his hands every time he tried to bite on his nails growing up, and you take a few steps around the place, running your fingers through your carefully styled hair. 

“Don’t scold me like my mother,” Chenle grunts, rolling his eyes at your composure.

“No, Chenle, because I don’t get it,” you shake your head, looking him dead in the sparkless eyes, “I do not get it.”

When he offers you no explanation, rather just gazing your whole body up and down, eyes half-lidded, you presume he’s a bit out of it– the alcohol truly hitting his system now, making you result in a little tangent of yourself, because you presume everything’s better than his parent’s scolding, and maybe he just needs someone to wake him back to reality. “What happened, Chenle? What the actual fuck is going on lately? You don’t speak to anyone about it, you don’t tell me, out of all people–” a snicker leaves his lips to this, making you huff in frustration, “you don’t tell anyone how you’re feeling, and it’s eating you up from the inside, and believe me when I say, Chenle, it’s pretty damn heartbreaking to watch.”

Looking at him, you’re offered nothing but silence. His cheeks are rosy and puffed up from the alcohol, his frame is small– opposed to the power stance he usually takes– and you don’t think you’re getting a conversation from him any time soon. Ready to give up, you shake your head at him and scoff. “Okay, fine. You don’t have to talk to me, since you have an issue with the fact that I care about you more than I should,” you snap, agreeing to be petty with him, if this was how he was gonna play.

“I don’t talk to any of you, because you wouldn’t understand,” he says, voice almost a bit annoyed, tongue dipped in bitterness. 

“We grew up together, Chenle. Our lives are pretty much the same, why the fuck would you think that I, out of all people, wouldn’t understand?” 

“See, that’s the thing,” Chenle catches you off guard, charming in with an argument barely before you are able to finish the sentence, “our lives are pretty much the same, yet you love it. You fucking love it, all of you do– you love waking up in your little fancy bedrooms, doing great at school because if you don’t, your parents are going to threaten you with disowning you– and what else do you have if not your parents wealth that you coincidentally, also despise at the same time? You go shopping to your favorite mall with your equally wealthy friends, because you’re not allowed to befriend people that are lower class– that would just look fucking embarrassing in front of your parents’ contacts, wouldn’t it? You go to charity events and birthday celebrations of a guy you’ve never seen in your whole life before, just because someone told you to– and don’t you dare tell them you won’t go, because how the fuck are they gonna look all pretty in front of their business partners if their only son doesn’t attend a celebration of someone inheriting a share from their parents’ company– a thing you’re supposed to do as soon as you turn 20, if you don’t attend university they picked out for you instead. You go on fancy holidays and take pictures in front of all the attractions, and it doesn’t even feel special anymore, because you do this every month– and the only time you ever felt alive was when you were drunk and making out with someone that you shouldn’t even think about in that way in the first place, because it’s your parents’ friends’ daughter, and at the end of the day, they would just love the fact that we were together, because that could strengthen the business bond they have– the only reason why they’re friends in the first place, and I’m so fed up, I hate it, I despise it–” he stops to take a breath, his eyes getting glossy,

and suddenly, you’re helpless, you’re falling apart– because the issue is so much bigger than you anticipated and you don’t know how to do anything about it.

“And I don’t fucking feel real, Y/N, I don’t, and I don’t think I ever have, because I just wake up in the mornings and then somewhere along the way, I realise I’m alive and I laugh, because how could all of this be real? How could the money be real? How could anything be real, and– and it’s so confusing, because I should be grateful, but I’m not, because I can’t even fully grasp it,” he breathes, tears now streaking down his cheeks.

It feels like the whole world stopped for a moment; it feels like you are in a movie and someone pressed pause. You stare at him, you blink, and you pray for something to send you strength to deal with this, to tell you what to do or how to comfort him– because this must have felt so alone, and you can’t stand the image of Chenle ever being lonely.

Opening your mouth and closing it, you gasp for air. No words feel suitable for this kind of conversation, and so you just chime towards him– despite all your best assumptions– and hold him. Because at the end of the day, what helps more to ground someone back to earth than human touch?

Pads of your thumbs wipe at the teardrops strolling down his cheeks, every contact with the salty liquid hurting you, cutting through your skin like razor blades– because Chenle never cries, he never feels like something is worth indulging in enough to bring him to tears– and when he catches his trembling bottom lip in his teeth, you break; pulling him towards you and threading your fingers through his hair, the action once lullying him to sleep now used like a broken mantra– please be okay, please relax, please let me hold you until you’re glued back together again.

“I dunno what to do,” he shrugs, his head resting on your stomach, voice burrowing itself into the fabric of your expensive dress, “dunno where to go. ‘Cause Jun’s leaving, and Yizhuo’s gonna be busy with everything, and– and you’re moving across the fucking ocean, and I’m just– I turned everything down, because–” he says, voice breaking, and you shush him with a pat on his back, touch growing more affectionate.

“It’s okay,” you hum, “I got you,” you say; words he once told you at the golf cart, looking after you, or in the hotel room back in Japan when you were 6 and falling asleep, still scared of ghosts appearing in your bedroom– and you believed them, you always did, because Chenle was always there when you needed him– so you only pray he finds comfort in the sincere phrases, because what more is there to offer him?

His breathing grows steadier as you continue to play with his messy hair, his hands gently allowing themselves to wrap around your thighs, your standing figure shelved between his legs, and he laughs to himself, the whole situation kind of ironic to him now. “I don’t even know why I’m crying. ‘m kinda numb, you know, so it doesn’t even really hurt in the first place,” he says, and you wish you found the same humor in it than he did– or at least the bitter sense of soothing yourself with irony– but you can’t. Looking down at his body, latched to you like a lifeline, you wonder how you could ever leave him there alone, to deal with the burden by himself. How could you ever move so far away from him?

“My parents wanted me to go with you,” he starts, the sentence sparking up something inside of you, but he doesn’t pull away and meet your eyes when he continues, foreshadowing a sad ending to your hope, “they said I should study business at Yale as well, that it’s a great opportunity.”

You don’t reply to him, choosing not to push him. After a sigh, he continues. “And I didn’t get in, because, naturally, I was too stupid for it in the first place– no, I was–” he says when you gently slap the back of his head at the comment, “but then they paid the dean and suddenly I was allowed to go. Can you believe that?” he snickers bitterly, shaking his head in disbelief. “Bad mouthed you for a thing I despised in myself, when you were the one that got in fair and square in the first place.”

“‘s okay,” you mumble, compassion dripping off your words.

“And I turned it down, ‘cause I hated the fact that they did that. I was okay with studying the fucking business program, even though I despised it, I was okay with moving across the world, because at least you’d be there, y’know, but I couldn’t bear the fact that they did that to get me in. I think I was too ashamed, too embarrassed, because they had to pay for me to get there, but– I don’t know…” he trails off, and you sigh, shaking your head in disbelief.

“It’s okay to take opportunities that are presented to you, Lele,” you mumble, “I know you hate it, but you can’t change who you’re born to. The best you could do is to not waste all of this,” you say, trying to find a source of light in the deep abyss of his thoughts.

You try hard to solve the problem– to offer him a solution that could work, that could let him forget about the pain for at least a second– to wake him up from whatever deep thinking that got him into this mess. You try hard to solve the problem– but you don’t know how to deal with it. All you know is that you’re trying to pick up the patterns; you’d fit in his skin if you could, you’d crawl in and fix everything– but at the end of the day, as Yizhuo said, the only person you can fix is yourself.

“Bought,” he says, fixing your mistake, “opportunities that were bought for me. I couldn’t do it,” he says.

Huffing, indulging in a spare second of your own pain– a spare second of the despair eating you up from the insides, the helplessness you’ve been feeling ever since you were forcefully kicked out of Zhong Chenle’s life– and you didn’t even tell him you loved him in the first place before he got stuck in the fire of the woods; before you two started acting like it didn’t matter and always ended up in feuds– you mumble a comment, voice barely louder than a whisper, but he can hear it because of the closeness of your bodies in the few stray raindrops that come over you two once the clock strikes midnight.

“We could’ve lived together, you and me,” you say, “us against the whole world,” you comment– a childlike yearning spilling out of your lips, “we could’ve gone to Yale together and you’d figure something out along the way. Maybe– maybe you’d find a purpose if you moved, we could–”

“Y/N,” he shushes you, uttering out your name, finally breaking away from you as he looks up and gazes into the swimming pools of your eyes, shaking his head with a faint smile, “‘s okay. It wouldn’t have fixed anything anyway, it– it wouldn’t have helped.”

“But–”

“You can move, Y/N, but at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter, ‘cause you’re taking yourself with you.”

August 20, 2020 – the backyard of your childhood house, Shanghai, 11:11 PM

You were never really that good at science– sure, your parents demanded you get good grades in every subject and your private school put quite the pressure on your education, but even though you always managed to pull satisfactory marks in exams, your understanding of the logistics sometimes lacked; you were much better at humanities or business-related courses, hearing enough at family dinners to find out your way through the lectures and apply the facts into examples from real life.

So, if anyone asked you how many stars there were in the universe, you wouldn’t be too confident in your answer. You wouldn’t know how to apply the Milky Way as your model– since it was said that it has around 100 billion stars alone– and multiply the part by the amount of galaxies in the universe– approximately 2 trillion– to get a number somewhere close to 200 billion trillion, also called 200 sextillion. 

You wouldn’t know how to do any of that, or how to even count this amount without a calculator, so you’d take a more liberal arts approach– literary, even– and say, that on August 20, 2020, at 11:11 sharp in your backyard, gazing on to the deep, dark sky and wishing for a star to fall so you could propose a selfish wish that could change everything, there’s still not more stars there than in Zhong Chenle’s eyes when your gazes meet after your friends leave for the evening, leaving you with your neighbor completely alone.

And it’s strange, seeing him like this– maybe because you didn’t even realize how used to the dull and emotionless Chenle you’ve been all this time– but it warms something inside of your heart as you take a hesitant step towards him, the first one out of the whole evening, and take a seat next to him in the corner of your terrace, sighing to yourself.

“You actually came,” you note, seeing as he turns to you and furrows his eyebrows at you in confusion.

“Should I not have? I mean, by the text you sent me, it seemed like you wanted me here, but if I misread the situation, I can go…” he snickers, teasing you just the slightest as he nudges you to your side.

You hum, shaking your head in disapproval. “No,” you say, “I just… I dunno.”

“Expected me to ignore you?” 

“Kinda,” you admit, snickering.

“Damn,” he giggles, “that’s fair, though. Considering the previous events, and all.”

Rolling your eyes at his composure, finally getting used to the old Chenle– the one that teases you over the smallest things, the one who doesn’t let his emotions show in his face– you watch him as he takes a seat on one of the rattan sofas and you follow him, body slouching next to his, feeling his head gently rest on your shoulder in the mere moment of silence between your two figures.

“Wouldn’t let you leave without seeing you for the last time,” he says, voice quiet and vulnerable, “god knows when I’ll see you again.”

“Chenle–”

“Just because you don’t want to talk about it doesn’t mean it’s not real,” he snickers, already knowing where your words are going– you’re going to try to stop him, tell him you don’t want to think about it right now, on the last evening at your house for the near future. 

“I’d rather not think about that, y’know,” you huff, frustrated. The anxieties of leaving everything behind are clenching on your insides right now, holding you back from moving freely and with enthusiasm, and you wonder– if you knew how this would feel all those months ago– if you knew how terrifying and painful the whole process could be, would you still apply to Yale? Would you still want to go?

“Okay,” he dotes, tone of voice casual, like it’s not a big deal. 

“Okay? Just like that?” you snicker, surprised at how easily he gave the topic up.

“Yeah. Don’t wanna make you sadder.”

Sitting in silence, you realize there’s so many words you’d like to say to him. You’d like to tell him just how much you’re gonna miss him and how you regret ruining the last few months you two had together, and how you’re sorry your feelings scared him to the point where he felt like he had no one to confide in. You’d like to tell him how you built a future with him in your brain, carefully placed him into your reality, only for him to break away from your grasp and go his own way, and how much it hurts, but how you’re always going to support him in whatever he chooses, because you care for him more than your little heart could take. You’d like to tell him how you’re gonna call him every day to check up on him, how you’re gonna send letters and press a secret kiss to each sheet of expensive paper you’ll get downtown, wishing he could feel the essence with the growing distance between you two. You’d like to ask him to visit you often– he’s gonna have more time on his hands, and god knows money’s not the issue. You’d like to selfishly tell him you find it hard to deal with the distance, and how you wish he wouldn’t find somebody else while you’re gone, and how you so dearly hope that somewhere in there, your feelings are silently reciprocated, but hidden away in fear of everything falling apart once again.

But instead, you don’t say anything. You tend to wait for him to speak up first– he’s always had a problem with talking too much in the first place, after all.

And he does– you can still predict his next moves. You know him that well.

“I’m gonna miss you, though,” he sighs, catching you off guard by saying something from the list of your silenced words, “don’t think that I won’t. Or that the way I’ll miss you is different than the way you’re gonna miss me,” he speaks, tone of voice laced in honesty and sincerity, his words heavy with the essence of what he’s never going to say out loud– or so you think.

“In what way?”

“I’m not gonna miss you like a friend misses a friend,” he says, “and I don’t mean the sex,” he snickers, brightening the mood with his comment.

Rolling his eyes at him, you feel him lift his head up from your shoulder, forcing you to look at him and meet his starry eyes again– the damn starry eyes that always make you spill the truth, because god knows you cannot lie to him– and you find yourself scanning his features, the structure of his bones you fear you’re gonna forget when you’re away, so desperately wanting to lock your lips with his for one last time, because when you come back one day, you may not have the right or chance to do so anymore. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, not a hint of teasing in his voice.

“You know why, Chenle.”

“Can you say it out loud?” he demands, and you shake your head– maybe it's best if the words are left unsaid. Doesn’t matter if they’re hanging in the air, for everyone to read.

“Why?”

“You know how I feel about you,” you snicker, “don’t make me say it out loud.”

Because even if you told him you loved him, it wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t make it all better, it wouldn’t make it all good– no matter how hard you wish that it would. 

“Okay,” he nods, agreeing too fast again– and with that, he smiles, the gesture so soft and sudden, and there you are– you’ve got a caving heart in your open arms, and Chenle takes it, carelessly choking out the hushed confession, “I’m in love with you. If you don’t say it, I’m gonna, because… you deserve to know.”

Heart sinking into your stomach, you watch him, frozen in your place, for a while. Your eyes carefully scan every curve of his face– the curve of his lips, the curve of his cheeks, the hood of his eyes, his brows, the thousand stolen galaxies in his orbs and mouth glistening like honey, inviting you in. Snickering under your breath, you choose to not give in to the temptation.

“You’re only saying that because I’m leaving tomorrow,” you say, shaking your head. 

“Maybe,” he agrees.

And you know that– you know that if you weren’t leaving, he wouldn’t tell you that he loves you. He wouldn’t allow himself to be this vulnerable, he wouldn’t tell you how he feels about you, because he had all this time– all those months and weeks spent with you in his bed, and you know his touches weren’t just shallow desire– and he never once said anything. He didn’t do anything about it, and now that there is nothing more to do about it, nothing that could change the trajectory of either of your lives, he chooses to speak it to the universe; because it doesn’t change anything, it can’t possibly do so– and so he doesn’t have to fear the consequences, he doesn’t have to fear the attachment that comes with such confession.

And for a minute, you think it’s selfish. You think it’s laughable, ironic, even, but you accept it. 

His hand reaches for yours, interlocking your fingers with his when he launches you forward into him, arms gently enveloping your body when your head settles itself to the curve of his shoulder. You stay like this for a while, in his hold again, breathing in his scent and trying to remember it for weeks and months before you’re able to smell it again, letting out a nosy question out of your lips– and truly, you don’t know why you do so, when you know the answer to it already anyway. Maybe you just want to hear it again.

“So… you do have feelings for me too, after all?”

He stays quiet for a while, before he softly laughs into your hair. “Yeah,” he nods, “but it doesn’t matter, ‘cause you’re leaving for Yale tomorrow, aren’t you?”

And he’s right– you are. Thinking for a while, feeling him place a shy peck to the crown of your head– the only kiss you two allow yourselves at this point of time– you come to the conclusion that  even though you love him, care for him like you’ve never cared for another before, you wouldn’t change a thing about your plan– wouldn’t change the trajectory of your whole life, wouldn't stay in Shanghai, wouldn’t drop out of university, wouldn’t stop everything because of him, because in a way, you strangely have it all figured out. 

And he doesn’t.

And you pray that one day, he’ll find the purpose in all the potential he holds in his hands.

[ouchthathurts]

𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐬) ⋮ High-School! Gojo Satoru x Female! Reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⋮ 2.8k (little guy!)

𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ⋮ With the discussion of everyone's phone numbers, Satoru realizes that he has no way of communicating with you outside of school, which he wants to do so very much. Satoru's neediness and pride gets in the way; however, how can he get you to want his number without the meddling Utahime taking great recognition over the fact that she holds knowledge of Satoru’s feelings for you.

𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 ⋮ Kaguya-Sama: Love is War got me wanting to write again! I love this little group dynamic so very much!!!

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬 ⋮ Series | No Spoilers | Second Person POV | Satoru pining over you | Fluff | Humor | Cross-Posted on Ao3 | Not so subtle Utahime x Shoko

“I can’t believe you didn’t respond to what I said, Shoko.” Utahime cried out to Shoko who was sitting next to you, the three of you were having your free time out on a bench, “I didn’t see your text.” The brunette yawned, the cigarette loosely hanging from the corner of her mouth while the girl next you continued to find herself practically sobbing on Shoko.

"Of course, she didn't!" A voice called out from behind the two of you, the three of you turned around to see what loud and obnoxious voice called out to the three of you. You all turned your attention to be met by the one who was held in high regard by those higher yet amongst peers was one who was a disturbance to the peace.

"Shoko never answers my texts either!"  Satoru had cried to you all whilst holding onto Suguru and crying into his shoulder, the three of you rolled your eyes at his behavior before Utahime spoke up, "Like anyone would want to text you!" Shoko and you stifled your laughs before Gojo argued with the girl.

"Oh, Utahime, crying again about things you’re not strong enough to handle?” You watched the dark-haired girl's face scrunch up in anger, Shoko immediately went to massage her shoulders whilst you put your hand up and waved Satoru off. "You're so dead!" Utahime seethed through her teeth fanning the flames of anger that had built up for so long.

Shoko noticed the familiar way the two would fall into, she cooed to the girl next to her. "Don't listen to him. Satoru only texts me and Suguru, and we don't even respond to him that much." Utahime couldn’t help but find herself lulled by the brunette’s voice while the white-haired boy found his heart crushed by such.

Satoru cried out to Shoko, "How could you say that!?" The four of you watched in amusement before Suguru told Satoru off leaving Utahime to agree angrily. "But you guys never text me!" The white-haired boy cried, "Who am I supposed to send all these pictures to and talk about the memories with if none of them will respond!?" You all watched him in confusion, except for Utahime who was watching him with a smirk on her face.

"When Shoko doesn't answer, you know who I depend on?" Utahime chirped, her voice hiding the sinister tones of wanting to show-off to the lonely sorcerer, she hopped over and wrapped her arms loosely around your neck from behind. The way Utahime said your name made you flush, you couldn't help but smile at the attention, "I only answer because I know how lonely you get without Shoko." You waved her off.

This interaction left Satoru in a conflicted state, the brain combated Utahime's as if the two harbored telekinesis, he couldn't think of any reason as to why he would even want to text you in the first place. Satoru huffed at this before waving his hands dismissively, "Who would wanna text them anyways?"

Utahime smirked at this with her eyes slowly closing to hide her glare, "Oh, I know someone who would wanna text 'em." Satoru found Utahime’s eyes on him, watching him like a predator through her closed lids, he cursed himself whilst trying to find the proper footing for the situation. 

All Satoru had in his mind was when the young woman had often caught him staring at you, she followed behind the young man and was the one who found him leave chocolates for you on White Day. Utahime was loud about it, laughing hysterically at such a sentimental Satoru, he knew he couldn’t scare her into not telling you. In result, Satoru accepted this leverage that Shoko held over him.

You took notice of Utahime’s reference to the one who brought you chocolates, "Maybe the person who leaves those things on your desk would really want it." Your ears perked up at this, your eyes wandered away and a look of disdain painted your face, "Oh. I'm not really interested in someone if they can't say it to my face."  You called out. "If they wanted to say something they should say it, I want someone confident enough to tell me they want me. Face to face."

This caused Utahime’s eyes to lazily roll over towards Satoru’s, “Is that so?” The young man wanted to holler into the sky after finally facing the consequences of his actions after teasing the young woman after she was saved by Suguru and Satoru. Satoru needed to tell you to your face, and he did want to do that, someday, it's just that he needed to be sure that he's ready for you. Satoru wanted to break down and cry at the fact that not only had you seen him as a coward for not saying his feelings to you. 

Satoru continued to think for a moment, there was something he needed to say to get your number, in some way he needed to convey that he wanted to talk to you one-on-one without it making it seem like he wanted to talk to you in that way. Satoru was a genius, in his own dazed mind, as he then spoke up about whose numbers he didn’t have. "I only have Suguru's and Shoko's." Shoko lit up her cigarette whilst she spoke, "I have everyone here's phone number." Suguru nodded in agreement. Utahime then spoke up, "I have everyone here besides Gojo's number." You nodded at this, "Me too."

Satoru felt his heart drop. 

Utahime taunted the sorcerer before her, "Wow. Aren't you lonely, Gojo?" Satoru scoffed at this, "Oh please, what am I missing out on?" The young woman felt the shadow cast over her face as she talked, she looked down on Satoru from a throne, "You're really missing out on such sweet messages!" Shoko nodded at this, "They'll text us all good morning and goodnight." Suguru adds on, "They even check in on us after a mission too. Very considerate.

You had everyone's phone number except his? 

What? Even Suguru's? 

You had some other dude's phone number and not his? 

This wasn't fair! Satoru wants a good morning message from you, to text him after missions with such worry and concern so he can put you at ease, and to say a cute good night message to make sure he gets enough sleep. You would send selfies of yourself or even pictures of you and him together. Satoru was on his hands and knees wondering what in the world he should say.

The young man was torn by such, it killed something in him whilst he shriveled up, he spoke up softly, "Well…" The group all turned their attention to him, they stared in confusion at what he was trying to say, only for Satoru to immediately hush up at his question. Once the young man's aquamarine eyes landed on his executioner, he knew he couldn't allow himself to take such a monumental failure.

'Well, can I get your phone number?' 

Such a simple question, right? 

All Satoru wants to do is talk to you outside of Jujutsu High, thus he would have to ask for a hang out just the two of you. Wouldn't that be weird? It’s like I’m asking them out on a date! What am I even talking about? I just ask for their number! Satoru knew what this meant however, if he asked you for your info then that would mean he wants to talk to you outside of school hours, he’d never gone on a mission with you and the two of you never talked that much outside of the occasional greetings and formalities when he caught you talking to Shoko and Utahime.

If Satoru asked you for your number that would be a call out to himself, he'd be outing himself to you and letting you know that he wants you to tell him good morning, good night, to worry over him, to send him pictures of you, to come and schedule dates with you–It practically ate Satoru alive as he tried to think of any way to ask you such a thing.

"Well?" Utahime said softly, the teasing grin on her face as she waited for Satoru's question, the young man quickly gained composure and spoke up. "What do I care about? It's just some messages." Shoko watched as Utahime's brow quivered before she spoke up, "It's not just messages. We finally got to plan a hang out together and we can schedule our time to be around one another." The young woman's eyes turned to stars around the brunette.

You watched on in confusion before speaking up, "Well, yeah, that's communication? What a phone is for?" Suguru nodded at this before he spoke up, "I'm glad for it. It was nice meeting up with you after doing errands for my parents." You couldn't help but smile at the dark-haired man, "Yeah. I was so happy to go get ice cream with you, Suguru." You chirped.

Satoru was quick to question, "You guys hang out?" The whole group was very much confused by his sudden inquiry about the arrangements, "Well, yeah, when I got Suguru's number we found out we both shop at the same places just at different times, so we scheduled a time to go together." You explained, Suguru nodded at this, Satoru felt so frustrated by the two of you. 

All the white-haired boy wanted to do was go back to his dorm, throw himself into his bed, and slam his fists into his bed while he kicked his legs childishly.

Utahime would notice this behavior quickly, his shock that all of them hung out without him was one that was called to attention, the young woman then shot up and slithered around you similar to a snake. "Yeah. Shoko and I always join them shopping." Utahime smiled at this before whipping out her phone to show Satoru the pictures they took, mainly pictures that contained you in different outfits that you tried on and bought, Satoru's heart whined at the fact he could never see you in person with any other clothing than your uniform. 

The only way to get your number without revealing these feelings he so obviously felt is to make it seem like you would need to talk to him. "Well," Satoru started, you all looked over to him, "I should get your guy's numbers since there could be a time where you two need one of the strongest there." Satoru thought for a moment, the idea of you clinging to him to thank him for coming to save you, for you to acknowledge the fact that he came to help you was one that made him smile as he wanted you to think highly of him. 

Utahime and you looked at each other before rolling your eyes at such behavior, "Yeah, I think Suguru can take care of it if need be." You informed the white-haired boy, Utahime giggled at your response and clinged to you, "Exactly, we have another one who is the strongest." The girl continued to rub into your shoulder causing you to giggle. The young man found himself now questioning all angles of what to say before he spoke up again, "Well, in case you guys ever need help if Suguru or Shoko doesn't respond."

You scoffed at this, "I can handle myself. Thank you though." Utahime let out a chuckle, she was holding back the boisterous laughter that almost shot out her throat when you shot down his advance, Satoru was scared as he knew he needed to say something to get your attention.

"Well, you're the same grade as Utahime and even Utahime needed my help!" The young woman almost lost it on the young man before you spoke up, "Utahime is very capable, as am I, just because of one mission slip up doesn't mean we need the 'strongest' there at all times like we're not well versed in what we do." You found yourself a bit peeved by his behavior, it was almost as if he was reaching for something and so, you found yourself continuing to watch the young man in confusion.

Satoru needed to be honest if he wanted to salvage anything, he needed to ask for your number and yet, when he looked into your eyes there was nothing more Satoru could say as he found his heart getting caught in his throat. Shoko and Suguru watched the three of you, not really clicking until the two shared a knowing look after watching Satoru’s needy behavior unfold after you withheld your contact information from him.

Due to time with Satoru, Shoko and Suguru have been able to pick up on his behaviors rapidly thus they already knew what the young sorcerer was getting himself into, the dark-haired man was stifling his laughter as he realized his close friend was trying to get your number without admitting that whilst Shoko had found the situation humorous and was joyed that Utahime was not stressing over Satoru’s words.

That was until Utahime looked down on him, a caring look as she found herself almost merciful as a Goddess whilst she bestowed her blessing onto the white-haired boy, in that blessing that would bring the situation to a simmer there was only one thing she could do.  "Oh, Gojo," Utahime spoke up, a softness in her voice that called for the eyes of those who had never witnessed such an act to Gojo Satoru, "Do you perhaps want to talk to us outside of just school hours?" With Utahime’s graciousness rapidly falling into her grasp to crush Satoru’s spirit and corner him.

You raised a brow at this. Why would Gojo Satoru want to talk to me? The two of you would only acknowledge each other when you both were in the same area with a simple greeting. You thought for a minute, he was taking a lot of interest, but you knew the confident and overly boastful Satoru was one who would most definitely hurry up and ask for someone's number if he wanted it, the young man was a bravado type. You were quick to see through his scheme and thus formed your own to get him to admit he wanted your guy’s number to talk to you and Utahime.

You were now all aware of Satoru’s feelings, except for you as you believed he wanted yours and Utahime’s numbers when he only wanted yours, unbeknownst to the man who was on everyone’s mind since he thought he was so clever at his scheme and hiding his emotions that he was practically smirking at his 'greatness'. Sotaru thought of himself so brilliant when he uttered the following, "What would I ever need your guy's number for? I'm just offering my help is all. As one of the greatest, it is my duty to help and protect those who are weaker than me." 

No one liked that in the slightest. 

Satoru was digging himself a hole, what could any of you possibly do whilst you all tried to think of something to say after such a blunder from the young man, he only stared at you all in confusion since you all went silent trying to make sure the group didn't begin to separate themselves just because of what Satoru had said.

You didn’t get that message though.

"Well, on that note, I'm gonna go." You told them, you found yourself not wanting to beat around the bush and if a man couldn't admit he wanted the numbers, then he wasn't worth the time of getting to know them, "I'll see you all later." You spoke up and waved to the rest of them before heading off. 

The group watched you get a fair distance away before they all turned their attention to Satoru, "That's them, huh?" Shoko teased and Suguru held back his laugh with a large toothy smile, "I never thought you'd be so scared to admit you wanted someone's number." Utahime pointed out as she found herself covering her mouth with Suguru covering up his mouth as well to hide his smirk whilst he spoke up, "So you're the one that gave them chocolates, Satoru?" 

The group was questioning the young man yet, he couldn't even answer them as he found himself so clouded with the fact that you had left after such words, anyone else would've swooned at that line and have acted upon handing the number over. You wanted Satoru to admit he wanted your number; in his mind you wanted him to fork over every possession that meant anything to him and devote himself to you. 

© ouchthathurts please don't translate, claim as yours, redistribute and/or plagiarize in any way.

Satoru wouldn't mind that, even if it does take him awhile to finally profess his feelings.

[thelittleliars]

Love Forever? | Pt. 2

Natasha Romanoff x fem!Reader Yelena Belova x fem!Reader (Platonic)

Warnings: cursing, yelling

Words: 2.1K

AN: This one has more interactions with Yelena than Natasha but it's all a huge part for the full story! Also the 3rd part is going to take at least 1-2 weeks since I'll be traveling to Budapest in the next couple of days! Gonna visit all the Black Widow filming locations there 🔥

Part 1 , Part 3

"Cyka" Yelena cursed in russian before she cursed you in english again. "You bitch! Why would you travel to Russia without me?" She shook her head in disappointment, you saw a grin on her lips tho when she turned her head to the side to see who walked in. You didn't see who it was since you were on FaceTime with her and only she was in the frame. "Who is in Russia?" You heard her voice in the background asking Yelena.

"Your ex-wife." Ex-wife, it was still something that pained you but the separation did you good. Your anxiety with all the worrying whenever Natasha went on a mission was gone now. You felt more at peace thanks to the break up. "Anyways, have you visit mama and papa yet? Last time I heard they were going insane to see you again. Apparently they can't wait to spoil you rotten with russian culture and stories of us as kids ugh."

"Don't forget about the baby pictures they're gonna show her." Nat reminded Yelena who's expression looked a mix of embarrassment and panic. "Yours gonna be there too Natalia. Can't wait for Y/N to see your awful blue hair phase."

You saw a shadow coming closer to the blonde widow, then a hand came into view hitting the back of her head. "You little bitch! Next time I'm there I'll burn all of them."

"Let's just burn the whole place down yeah?" A gasp escaped your mouth, even though you knew she was kidding it was something she'd really do. "Yel NO! Also Nat please don't burn any of them." You said sadly. "I wish I had at least a single photo of myself as a child. Hell I don't even know where I'm from, apart from being held by hydra for half my life."

"Guess we're all in the same boat. None of us knows where exactly we come from. Oh oh we can be the lost daughters buddies." The younger sister screamed out in pain after her older sister slapped the back of her head once again. "Try sheering her up instead of ruining the mood with some sad shit from our past."

Suddenly your screen went black, you were about yo look at your wifi to see if the connection was lost but before that could even happen you heard a chair screeching. "What gave you the right to give me that fucking advice huh? How about you stay out of my business with her since you were the one who destroyed your relationship." Yelena was mad, no she was furious with her sister, that's why you weren't surprised that she hung up on you. This was a great time to start driving towards your (ex) parents in law.

You took your bags, threw them into the car you rented, then jumping into the drivers seat and made your way towards Melina's and Alexei's little farm outside of Saint Petersburg. Not long after, you arrived your destination, Melina and Alexei both stood outside already as if they were expecting you. You did not call or text them since it was supposed to be a surprise.

"Ahh finally, my daughter is home again." Alexei walked to you and immediately his arms around your body, squeezing you to death. "I need to breath big guy." He let you go but still smiled at you happily. "Come on inside. I'll show you your room. We decorated a bit, hope you'll like it."

The decoration he was talking about were only new curtains and a stuffed penguin animal. You appreciated their effort.

Later that day when you were outside feeding the pigs, you heard and saw a Quinjet coming. Of course Yelena had the nerve taking a jet and flying to russia. But she wasn't alone. Natasha also tagged along. You gulped at the sight of her standing there in casual clothes. It was actually your first time seeing her in six months. The last time was after the divorce all those months ago. Alexei of course was the happiest, now that all his daughters were home. Melina was happy to see them too but she was more worried about you. At times she was more protective over you than Yelena and even though it was heartwarming, it pained you too. She was like a mother figure that you never had. The longing and grieving of a life you could have had nearly destroyed you whenever you think deeply about it.

"Natasha I need a little help in the kitchen." Was all she said before going inside and the red head trailing after her like a good god. Yelena and dad catched up on stuff while you sat down on a bench near the front door that had a great view on the animals. You had no clue how much time had gone by until your friend and sister sat down next to you. "What is on your mind Y/N Y/L/N?" She tried to get you talking by saying your whole name as teasing but you were starting to feel numb so nothing would bother you anyways.

"As you'd say my ex wife." Seeing her after all this time stirred up a lot of thoughts in you. "What about her precisely?"

You sighed quietly. "I don't know. I guess it's just us in general and how we ended up here." It wasn't a lie but also not the whole truth either. You didn't want to talk in details since you knew it would get you in a vulnerable state. "She was a bitch for demanding that divorce.."

Out of reflex you started to defend your ex. "She got trigged Yel-" "No. Don't. Don't you dare make excuses for her." Yelena cut you off fast. She hated you for defending Natasha in this situation when you deserved so much better.

"It's just the truth. Plus I'm not as innocent in this situation as you think I am." You could have fought more for your wife but instead you signed the divorce papers quick. Probably because of the things that happened before the accident. "Natasha and I had a pretty nasty fight right before she got called on a mission and got her head injury." You paused for a minute. "If I'm being honest.. our marriage was falling apart anyways."

Yelena gaped at you. "I don't understand Natasha always talked so highly of you." You wished that was true, you wished all the good she found in you was actually good.

"I told you this was going to happen!" You yell at her, feeling angry and betrayed that she didn't listen to you. "And yet you ignored me and continue doing it anyways." Natasha hates herself for not listening to you but she'd never admit that out loud. Instead she blames you for everything, she knows it is wrong but it's difficult for her being truthful and vulnerable right now. "This wouldn't have happened if you were more open to the idea of being more affectioned in public. Maybe then he'd have known that I'm not single!"

"He kissed you. Because you kept flirting with him to get what you want.. you're an avenger for gods sake! You can get anything you want just by asking Tony or any of us." You stop yourself from getting even more louder. A deep breath and a few seconds is all you need to be more calm. "You know what? Maybe they all were right when they said you are a monster. Because right now, that's all I see."

The fight didn't leave your mind, it stayed and harassed you daily on repeat. You knew you guys covered up a lot of your problems. A marriage is a piece of work and you guessed you both weren't just ready for that huge marriage step. "Would you ever take her back?" She asked you softly. You were looking so hard for the right words to say but you fell flat. "I'm not in love with her anymore so I don't know." Though you didn't know for sure you constantly told yourself you'rw not in love anymore. If that was the truth then why did you panic when a knock came from the door frame? Why did your heart beat faster when you saw it was Natasha who knocked?

"Dinner is ready." Her voice was quiet but still so damn soft. While you stood up and walked towards the front foor, Yelena's gaze lingered on you for a while before she rushed after you into the house. At dinner you all fell into a comfortable conversation. It felt very awkward at first especially since you were convinced that your ex-lover overheard what you told Yelena. You were also anxious but it got better once Alexei started talking about his new tattoo shop. He had opened it two months ago and was fully booked out already. You were happy for him, tattoos were something what he was extremly good at so the demand was so deserved. After dinner was over you all three went to the bedrooms which you all had to share.

The next morning you wondered why 'dad' was still here. He explained that there was a new girl who worked at his tattoo shop, helping him out for all the appointments. Then he joked about how he'd set any of you three up with her. The blonde daughter just snorted, not wanting anything to do with romance, but he was too excited for an introduction to notice Yelena's obvious disinterest. Maybe he did notice since he showed a photo of her only to Natasha and you. And that was when something struck in you, you didn’t know how or why but you had to see the girl personally. You asked him where his shop was located and after giving you directions you stood up, turned to Yelena asking her to drive you there. Natasha felt irritated at how fast you wanted to see that new girl.

As soon as your eyes met hers, everything around you stopped, you felt a pull to her, a magical pull that you couldn't control. Your arms came around each other and somehow nothing on the world made more sense than this moment.

"Voi herranjumala." (Oh my god.) She said something in a language you thought you knew yet you didn't understood a thing. You pulled away, still standing close to her, she then put your face in between her hands. "Kaipaan sinua, kaksos Y/N." (I missed you, twin Y/N)

"Please don't tell me this is some long lost love reunion." Yelena groaned in misery. You looked at her cluelessly, hoping she'd also pick up your silent plead to help you out in this situation. "Don't look at me! You were the one who rushed me here and hugged her like no there's no tomorrow."

The girl next to you cleared her throat before speaking up, this time finally in a language you all could understand. "Ohh right.. I'm sorry I forgot you don't understand Finnish anymore." Anymore?? What the hell did that mean? "We don't have much time, I'll explain everything later. Twin Y/N do tell me, have you found your one and only?"

You blinked at her. "My what?" She cursed in Finnish, huffing and what seemed beating herself up about something. "Your, what humans would call here, Soulmate." You didn't question her 'what humans' and just shook your head. "I thought I did but no."

"Tell me, what happened?" Her gaze turned extremly intense, you started to feel uncomfortable. "Well we started to fight at one point and then she got a head injury and et voila we were divorced."

Yelena had enough of this conversation, the pulled you backwards and stood in front of you, giving the other girl a death stare. "Whatever you're doing to Y/N has to stop right now or otherwise I'll beat you up." You knew she was dead serious about it, your sister in law was super protective over you. "I'm not doing anything, it's all her doing. We do have to stop talking so slowly, we need to hurry."

"Why hurry? I don't understand?" She visibly got more restless which stresses you out. "You're out of time soon. We have to find your soulmate now." You shock your head at the lady and her crazy words. "I'm sorry this has to be done." And with one finger snap, both of you were gone.

Tags: @iamthescarlettwitch , @dark-hunter16 , @marvel-fan-2021 , @myfturn , @natsxwife , @wandanats-goodgirl , @supaheroine , @00alycia , @xxsekhmet , @franfrolix , @lonewalker17 , @newawakening9 , @marvelwomen-simp , @automaticwizardnerd , @wifeofnatasharomanoff

[trashyocstash]

the second chapter of the phantom blot x lily story, warning for NSFW(yes..i'm already getting into it lmaoo)

chapter 1

The next day, Mickey and Minnie invited Lily over to Mickey’s place, to talk and eat together. Mickey had asked her if she liked hot dogs, and when she told him she did, he went on about making a bunch, causing her to giggle. She was glad that her new friends made her feel happy and comfortable. Her doubts and worries still crept up on her, but she hoped they weren't true and that she could indeed trust them.

Lily arrived, and Mickey immediately greeted her.

“Hey Lily!” Mickey exclaimed, a hot dog in one of his hands. His face already had ketchup dripping from his mouth.

“Oh Mickey, you need to clean yourself up!” Minnie gently scolded and wiped the ketchup off, making him blush in embarrassment.

“Sorry Min..”

Minnie turned her attention to Lily, “Anyways, it's great to see you Lily! Lucky for you, Mickey didn't eat all the hot dogs already, I made sure of that.”

Lily giggled, trying to ignore her jealousy at their relationship, “Thank you.”

A yellow dog came barreling in the room and ran over to Lily, staring to lick her face. She laughed, “Is this Pluto?”

Mickey laughed, “It sure is! He loves meeting new people.”

Lily smiled and pet him, at least she didn't have to deal with her anxieties about others when it came to animals.

She took a few hot dogs and a bottle of soda, and sat down with Mickey and Minnie in the living room, while Pluto curled up on his bed, “I bought some paints from the ink and paint store yesterday, I was thinking of how I want to customize my house. Like..I've been picturing a cute pink and white kitchen, decorated with flowers, how does that sound?”

“It sounds adorable! If you want help, I'd love to customize it with you,” Minnie told her.

“Me too,” Mickey agreed, “We're friends, we help one another after all.”

Lily smiled at the reminder of their friendship, she had doubted they'd like her idea and was relieved they did and wanted to help her, “Ortensia also offered to help work on a garden outside with me.”

“She did? That's great! You'll have a beautiful house in no time Lily,” Minnie replied.

“Do you think you'll ask Horace for help too?” Mickey asked, “In addition to his mechanical work, he can help with more complicated renovations, like tearing down a wall.”

“I think I will..I might need it..”

He smiled and thought for a moment, “You know, I don't just do detective work, I've traveled the world to explore ancient ruins, mysteries, all that stuff. I have an archeologist friend named Eurasia Toft who invites Goofy and I with her sometimes. I've been to Mayan ruins, looked into the mystery of the Colossus of Rhodes and more!”

Lily's eyes widened, “That sounds..amazing..I'd love to know about your adventures.”

Mickey took a bite of one of his hot dogs and his mind wandered, “Of course! But first..I think I should inform you about the villains of Mouseton too. My main enemy is Pete, he leads the criminal underworld here alongside his wife Trudy. He's a brute who does whatever he wants. There's Sylvester Shyster, a corrupt lawyer. If you ever need any legal help, don't go to him.”

He paused, and took a deep breath at the last one, “But the worst is the Phantom Blot, he's not called the King of Evil for nothing, and I haven't heard of him doing anything in a while. I bet he's planning something..but I don't know what..”

His fur and tail tensed up, Mickey clearly had been on edge from just thinking about the Phantom Blot. Minnie placed a hand on his shoulder and rubbed it gently, trying to ease his nerves. Mickey relaxed a bit and took another deep breath.

Lily became nervous, “What kind of things has he done?”

“He's brainwashed me to be a criminal, he's swapped places with me, making people think I was him and using me to escape from prison, he's used a flower to give everyone in Mouseton amnesia, he's tried to take over the world numerous times..”

The memories of everything Phantom Blot had done hurt, his face tensed up from it before he forced himself to relax again, but Lily had to know what he was capable of, “He's put me in death traps and..he's just a very manipulative person in general and a genius. Being friends with me puts you in his line of sight, but don't worry, I won't let him harm you,” Mickey assured her.

“Me neither,” Minnie agreed and placed a hand on Lily's, relaxing her like what she did with Mickey.

“Thank you…I..appreciate it,” Lily replied. Phantom Blot sounded terrifying, but if her friends were really her friends, she would be fine, adding on to why she hoped they were genuine. 

With the tense air, she decided to change the subject, “When I was at the ink and paint store I..I met someone.”

“You did?” Minnie immediately seemed interested.

“He was dressed in all black, so I guess he's probably goth? He also wore a black mask that covered most of his face with a white smile on it. I didn't get his name so he's just registered as ‘Nice Goth Guy’ on my phone. He was very flirty too..it was kind of embarrassing..” Lily blushed.

A mysterious guy dressed in all black and wearing a mask with a white smile? It sounded suspicious to Mickey, he wondered if it was the Phantom Blot, but didn't say anything.

“You definitely have to talk to him again, and pester him for his name too!” Minnie advised, "He can't just not give you his name.”

“You're right, I..definitely want to know more about him..whoever he is..”

—------

Phantom Blot was back in that same dark room, which was a science lab in his mansion. There were beakers and flasks full of mysterious liquids, tubes stretching around, and various inventions littered the place.

He used a dropper to place the ink he had bought into the ink-like substance. With that, Blot tested the substance on his arm again. This time, every part of his hand but his thumb transformed, the fingers fusing together into a hammer. He smirked wickedly, he was almost there, so close to perfection. With just a few more touch ups, the ink-like substance would be perfect and ready for use. Once it was perfected, he wanted to test it out, his mind wandering to a grand heist at the local art gallery.

Blot then remembered the cute blonde he met at the ink and paint store, Lily. He had to admit, he wanted to see her again. Luckily, he had saved her phone number and decided to use that to his advantage. Phantom Blot decided to get her to meet up with him at the art gallery, where she would see he was actually the Phantom Blot the whole time. It was too perfect.

Once he finished messing with the ink-like substance for the day, he placed it in a container and exited the lab, making his way over to the living room. It was there he saw his housekeeper Mrs. Fragmuffin sweeping the floor, and nearby was Phantom Brat, sitting on one of the couches, watching a princess movie while brushing the hair of one of her dolls. He smiled as he walked up to her, until he noticed the movie was now on a scene showing the princess and her mother, which made Brat frown. Phantom Blot was reminded of her desire for a mother, how upset it made her that she didn't have one of her own. She wasn't aware her biological mother hated her and flat out abandoned her, and he didn't want her to know, she was too young for that.

Deciding to cheer her up, he moved around to sneak up behind her and grabbed her, “Got you!”

Phantom Brat giggled and lightly bit his arm, “I got you too Daddy!”

He chuckled and went to sit next to her on the couch. She showed him the doll she had been brushing, “I had to brush her hair, it was all messy!”

“You did a good job, it looks much better now,” He replied as he observed the doll.

Phantom Brat grinned from the praise and hugged her doll close, making Blot smile.

“By the way, I have to go on a business trip soon, but don't worry, I shouldn't be gone for too long,” He hated having to lie to her, but Brat couldn't know he was a villain, he wanted to keep her as far away from that part of his life as possible. At the back of his mind, Phantom Blot also worried Brat would hate him if she knew the truth, and he didn't want that.

She frowned, put her doll down and hugged him, “I hate it when you go! I always miss you so much!”

Phantom Blot hugged her back, “I miss you too, my little princess, but I have to go. And you know Mrs. Fragmuffin will be there caring for you while I'm gone like she always does.”

“I know! But it's not the same without you..” Phantom Brat snuggled up against his chest sadly.

He kissed the top of her head and gently rubbed her back. It hurt seeing her like this, but he knew it was for the best. If the other villains and criminals as a whole knew he had a daughter, some of them may try to harm her, using her against him for their own personal gain. And he wouldn't allow that. Phantom Blot wanted Phantom Brat to have a normal childhood(she was rich but that was the most abnormal thing about her life and he wanted to keep it that way). Seeing her being a typical happy little girl who loved princesses, mermaids, fairies, dolls, plushies and fairy tales made him happy too. 

She deserved to have a good upbringing, filled with love and warmth, and whatever her little heart desired. Phantom Blot himself didn't have the best life growing up, to the point where he never allowed his parents to meet Phantom Brat, and he wanted to ensure things were better for her. She was the most important part of his life, after all.

“I'm not going right away, don't worry daughter. And like I said, when I do go, I likely won't be gone for long anyways. After you finish watching the movie, why don't we play with your dolls together?” He suggested.

Brat perked up at that, “Okay!”

She continued to stay close to him, snuggling up against him as he stayed to watch the princess movie with her, both content, but plagued with worry at the back of their minds.

—-------

Lily had ended up excitedly listening to Mickey's tales of his adventures. He lived such an interesting life, and she couldn't help but want to join him on adventures too. Her life had been relatively simple, and the idea of getting to travel the world, solving mysteries, helping people and exploring remains of ancient civilizations was fascinating to her. It was all like something out of a story, and she wondered where her friendship with Mickey would lead.

In the meantime, she had visited Horace’s mechanics shop, asking him to help her with her house. Lily decided on making the entrance a little more wide, and wanted a sunroom. Horace was more than happy to help, and headed to her house with her, accompanied by Clarabelle. He stepped inside, leaving Lily outside with her.

“Lily! You have to hear about the latest gossip!”

Without Lily even agreeing, Clarabelle just started talking her head off. She didn't mind however, just letting Clarabelle talk and listening to the latest goings on in the city.

She shyly decided to speak up too once Clarabelle finished her ramblings, “I have something too..I met this goth guy at the ink and paint store yesterday and got his number.”

Clarabelle's eyes widened, “You did? He must like you to give you his number already, is he cute?”

Lily blushed, “I..don't have a good idea of what he looks like, he wore a mask covering most of his face. He never gave me his name either.”

“Ooo the dark and mysterious type I see. I bet he's definitely a looker under that mask.”

Lily's blush deepened, “You know, he was flirting with me too..”

Clarabelle got a big grin on her face from that, “Oh he definitely likes you. How lucky are you? You've got a mysterious flirty goth guy into you, sounds like he might be the hot bad boy type.”

Lily covered her face with her hands in her shyness, making Clarabelle laugh, “You have nothing to be shy about! You're beautiful, just look at you! And you're very sweet and kind, any man would consider themselves lucky to be with you.”

That just made Lily feel even more shy, “I..um..I have an ex boyfriend. He wasn't all that..good to me. He told me that no one would ever love me like he does. I hope it isn't true but sometimes I worry it is.”

Clarabelle frowned, not expecting that kind of response, it told her all she needed to know about Lily's ex, “Well he was an idiot anyways for mistreating you like that. I think you could easily get a man to love you, one that will love you better than your ex.”

Lily smiled at that, feeling better from her words, “Thank you..”

“It's no problem,” She replied as she placed a hand on her shoulder, “Now come on, let's see how Horace is doing.”

—-------

Once Horace finished his renovations for the day, he and Clarabelle left, saying their goodbyes. Lily walked around her house, it was clearly in a “work in progress” state, but she didn't mind. The walls near the front door had been torn down, and walking over to where the sunroom was going to be, there were windows laying around, waiting to be installed.

She appreciated Horace's kindness in doing this for her, she was more than happy to pay him for his efforts once everything was finished. When his renovations were done, Lily settled on doing the rest of her planned customization work with her friends.

Until then, she decided to take some time for herself. Lily sat on her couch, pulled out the remote and put on Pawflix. She scrolled through the movies and settled on one, selecting it and then wrapping herself up in a blanket.

As the movie went on, Lily took notice of the romance subplot in the movie, which made her feel depressed. Was Cody right? Was no one going to love her like he did? Could another man fall in love with her? Would another relationship even work? Or would she mess things up like she always did?

Tears began to well in her eyes, when she heard her phone ‘ding’. Lily picked it up, and smiled weakly when she saw she got a text from “Nice Goth Guy”. She looked at her message app and read it.

I wanna meet up in a few days.

The text excited Lily as she wiped her tears away and typed a response.

Of course!

She shyly typed out another response.

I miss you

Lily held her breath as she saw the dots indicating that he was typing in a reply, which he soon sent.

I miss you too

Her heart thumped in her chest at his reply, he actually missed her. She was worried he wouldn't, and couldn't help but blush knowing he did and wanted to see her again. Lily felt nervous at how their meetup would go however. She decided to move to a more casual conversation to deal with her nerves.

I'm watching a movie right now, what are you doing?

Soon, he sent his response.

I'm working on something, when we meet up, I want to show it to you.

Lily couldn't help but be excited, wondering what he was working on. Was it a piece of art? She did know they shared an interest in art after all.

I can't wait 

She then remembered Minnie's advice, and decided to follow it.

What's your name?

Curiosity filled her as she waited, then read his reply when he sent it.

Wait until we meet up, you'll know then.

Lily wasn't sure why he was being so cryptic about his name, it was suspicious and weird but she didn't want to upset him by pestering him further so just went along with it.

She continued to talk to him as the movie went on, her face red and her tail wagging. Lily enjoyed chatting with him, he was kind to her and ended up being flirty again. Eventually, he told her he had some “business to attend to”, but that he loved talking with her again.

He was very mysterious, Lily knew something was up. But she decided to wait for their meetup to figure out what his deal was, hoping everything would go well.

The movie ended, and Lily decided to make her way upstairs to have a bath, figuring it would help give her time to think of everything going on and relax.

She turned on the water and stripped out of her clothes. Before heading into the water, Lily looked at herself in the mirror.

Her body was the kind men would drool over, with her large, luscious breasts, wide hips and narrow waist. Lily traced her fingers over her curves, thinking about her appearance. Despite her voluptuous body, Lily couldn't help but feel insecure about it. Cody didn't go after her appearance much, he more so would tell her that her looks were the best part about her. But even so, his gaze still wandered to other women. She felt there had to be something wrong with the way she looked, and that's why she couldn't keep his attention.

Turning her gaze back to the tub, Lily noticed the water had filled up just enough, so turned it off and laid down inside.

Thinking back to her goth friend, she remembered him calling her beautiful. Just thinking of his comments made her blush again. A thought crossed her mind of what he would think of seeing her like this, and her face went redder from it. Would he like her body? Or would he find whatever flaw in it Cody saw and not be interested in her?

She hoped he would like how her body looked, Lily closed her eyes and imagined him seeing her naked and being his usual flirty self with her. Her mind wandered to him whispering sweet nothings in her ear with that sultry voice of his, as his fingers inched down to her pussy when she opened her eyes, feeling flustered for thinking about that. Her body was becoming heated, and in need of release. She obliged, and spread her legs open, tracing a finger down to her pussy and beginning to gently run her fingers across it.

“Mmm..” Lily let out a soft moan. She realized she needed this, feeling the stress and tension that had built up withering away. It would be better if she had a man with her, but until then, her fingers would have to do.

At the very least, she went back to fantasizing about her mysterious goth friend, imagining that she was being pleasured by his fingers instead of her own. She really wished she had a name she could cry out..

She inserted one of her fingers inside her pussy, causing her to lean her head back and loudly moan, “Ahh yes!”

A hand moved to gently caress one of her breasts, adding to her pleasure. She felt like a mess and started to wonder if she'd been pent up, it had been too long since she'd been touched after all.

Lily inserted a few more fingers inside herself, more moans released from her mouth and her hips bucked. She felt closer and closer to release until her body couldn't take it anymore, and she came.

“Ohh! Oh yes! Yes!” She cried out, her legs and hips moved wildly as she came into the water.

Once she finished, Lily moved her hands down and panted, being out of breath. After regaining her breath, she smiled in content. She had definitely needed that, now, she simply wanted to enjoy the water. Lily closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of the water on her soft fur and droplets of water dripping down her breasts, over her nipples.

After finishing her bath, Lily brushed her hair, put on her pajamas and headed to bed.

She tried to fall asleep, but her mind kept wandering to Cody. Lily felt stressed again as she tossed and turned on her bed, she felt like crying, hating when he would interrupt her as she tried to sleep. She clutched her pillow, digging into it with her claws and holding it close to her head.

It took a while, but she eventually got some sleep, and she wasn't greeted with any dreams when she did. Lily awoke in the morning feeling like a mess, just when she was able to make herself feel good again, it all came crashing down. The high from the pleasure she felt was gone, and her hair was already a mess.

As she tiredly left her bed and headed downstairs to make breakfast, Lily hoped that her fortunes would change for the better.

[xsunnysucculentx]

polaroids

part five

summary: you get to know task 141 better and a small sparring session with ghost

warnings: mentions of lost father

pronouns: she/her

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

"why didn't you listen to me, y/n?" price asked and you slouched on the edge of your bed, feeling like a kid being scolded by their parent.

"i heard someone say we had a soldier down, price, i can't just stand there and watch while being out of ammo!"

"look, i know you don't like taking orders, but how do you think im gonna explain to your mom that you died while under my watch?"

"there's no need to, i survived and i even saved ghost!" you argued and looked up to price. "i know you want to protect me, but im grown up now price.. i can handle myself, really."

"i know, i just.." he sighed and gave you a sad smile. "..i just dont want it to happen again"

you nodded, knowing what he meant and got up. "im not him, john.."

"yeah.. i know." his eyes softened and you smiled a little. "well, anyway, im gonna leave you to whatever you were about to do. don't forget that alejandro is cooking today"

"won't do" you smiled, taking a mental note to not come too late to dinner with the guys. price left your room, but turned around in the door. "i like your name. suits you." he closed the door before you could say thank you and left you to your own thoughts.

you pulled out some crystals and started putting them through the small room. the big orange salt rock on your nightstand, the smaller crystals around it and on your table. the room looked quite cold, you couldn't help but feel kinda uncomfortable here. you put up some polaroids on the side of your wardrobe, a picture of you and your sister on the wooden table and looked down at it. maybe one letter wouldn't hurt.. just so she'd know that you were alive.

your thoughts were interrupted when you heard a knock on your door. you gathered yourself for a second and opened it. ghost stood there in a black hoodie and grey sweatpants, his mask over his face and his hands clasped behind his back.

"hello" you greeted him and made way to let him into your room.

"hello" he replied and went into your room. "i wanted to ask if you'd like to come to the common room? soap said that we had to work on our friendship to you or something like that, so we could understand each other better on the field."

"we understood each other perfectly" you joked and put your hands on your hips. "ah, sure why not, decorating can wait."

"that your sister?" ghost pointed to the picture on your table and you nodded.

"10 years ago, she's 7 here"

ghost just nodded and looked around in your room. you like crystals, as it seemed.

"oh wait!" you opened your wardrobe and took out the polaroid camera. "i still have a couple of pictures left, do you think we could take some?" you were excited. it was kinda.. cute.

"yes, sure." ghost said and made his way out of your room, you following him quickly.

"we know next to nothing about you rain and you know almost nothing about us!" gaz explained and you sat down between soap and him on the round black couch at the common room.

"what do you wanna know then?"

"everything!" soap put some potato crisps in his mouth and munched on them. "seems like you're gonna stay a while. my name's johnny."

"im kyle" gaz said and shook your hand jokingly.

"you know my name" alejandro said and winked. all eyes landed on ghost and he looked you straight in the eyes.

"simon"

"its so nice to get to know you all!" you clapped your hands lightly. "im y/n"

"ohh thats a pretty name" soap commented and you nodded.

"thanks" you smiled and clasped your hands together. "so i heard alejandro is cooking today. do you all know how to cook or is it like a rarity here?"

"nah, he just wants to leave a good impression" gaz laughed and alejandro shot him a death glare.

"watch your mouth pendejo, it's my turn to cook anyway" he looked back at you. "soap can tell you about ghosts great cooking"

"mate!" soap almost immediately shot up. "he's trying to kill me, i swear! he puts way more spice in my portion, and i will die on that hill!" the more soap said, the stronger his accent peeked through. you could swear you could hear ghost chuckle and smiled a little. the group dynamic was really.. something.

"thats a lie, johnny" ghost said and you could practically see the smile from under the mask.

"but to come back to your question" gaz started and put a leg under himself. "we can cook more or less decently. except alejandro, he's a fucking chef or something"

"and what about you?" soap asked and popped some more crisps in his mouth.

"not to kiss my own ass yeah" you put your hands up slightly. "but i'd say im a pretty good cook."

"we're gonna need proof on that" alejandro said and crossed his arms.

"yeah yeah someday maybe" you brushed it off and gaz pointed to your camera.

"fucking love polaroids" he said and you shot a photo of him, making a peace sign and smiling brightly.

"i always take some photos of my squad, remembering the times we've had" you explained and put the developing photo on the coffee table. "if its okay with you i'd like to take a picture with you all"

soap and gaz quickly went to alejandros and ghosts side, sitting down and posing. ghost had his arm behind alejandro, one hand on his knee and the other showing a peace sign behind alejandros shoulder. soap and gaz made the 🤙🏼 sign and alejandro just had his thumb up. you shot the photo and gaz quickly stood up.

"your turn" he said and alejandro scootched over to make some room between him and ghost. you sat down, soap at your feet, doing the 'draw me like one of your french girls' pose and you made a heart with your index and middle finger from both hands. you noticed ghosts hand still staying on its place behind you and you smiled for the picture.

"guys" price came into the room, crashing the picture, as all of you turned around and gaz took the photo just in that moment. "oh, didn't notice you were taking pictures"

"rain has a polaroid camera, i've always wanted to use one" gaz said and sat down on the couch.

"whats wrong captain?" soap asked and you tapped his shoulder quickly.

"10 bucks i can make him say updog" you whispered and soap cocked an eyebrow.

"deal" he shook your hand and price just didn't question it. you young people had always something on your mind.

"nothing, i just wanted to check how rain is setting in" he crossed his arms. "and also someone shook the soda cans again, shit exploded right into my face"

"ohhh so thats why it smells like updog in here!" you said like it was the most casual thing.

"whats updog?" price asked and you earned a gaped mouth from soap.

"nothing much, and you?" you smiled and price shook his head.

"very funny" he commented and started leaving the room. "i bet you shook the cans."

"i would never ever do something so cruel, i like my sodas with carbonation, thank you" you said defensively and were kinda offended that he'd think of you that way. "you owe me" you stood up and winked at soap.

"miss girl that wasn't a fair game!" he complained and you sat down next to gaz. you shrugged and flipped the developed photos. they turned out cute, not gonna lie. especially the last one, where price came into the room and all of you looked to the side to him.

"all right" alejandro slapped his thighs once. "im gonna go start cooking, it'll be done in maybe an hour?" he stood up and left the common room.

in that hour you talked with gaz, being the two youngest in the group you understood each other on a different level. and he was kinda the only one who understood your gen z language. imagine going up to ghost and calling him zesty. nah, mans would be confused as fuck.

you two were the only ones left in the common room, everyone else left to go train, rest or do something else.

"so wait you're telling me" gaz took a sip from his coke and rested his back against the couch opposite of you. "your neighbour broke into your apartement just to steal some tea on a sunday ?"

"dont ask me, maybe he had a really bad craving for it" you shrugged and laughed.

"you need to start locking your door with two locks or something" he suggested and you waved it off.

"i already moved out there, the entire building was kinda weird. every hallway felt like it led to the backrooms"

"guys the food is ready!" soap announced through the open door and poked his head into the room.

"good, im starving" you said and stretched.

on your way to the cafeteria soap and gaz were chatting, exchanging some gossip about other military soldiers.

you sat down next to ghost and alejandro put a plate in the middle of the table, he only cooked for the task force, thats why you were the only ones here right now. he made spaghetti and some sauce, obviously no three course meal, and the sauce seemed to be self made. the others put noodles on their plates, you did the same and light chatter filled the room.

"its good" you said to alejandro and he nodded in appreciation once.

"you down for sparring later?" ghost asked and looked into his plate.

"sure, but i will not be your wreckdoll again and demonstrate take down techniques!"

"we'll see" the corners of his mouth twitched up lightly and you huffed.

"i noticed your knife techniques needing some training." ghost said and took two practice knifes.

"i mean i'm a sniper, i never really needed knife skills." you shrugged and looked at the metal knife with a dull edge. they looked like they would hurt, not gonna lie.

"you love running into field apperently, if you're going to keep doing that, you need to be trained in basic hand to hand combat." he flipped the knife in his hand and got into position. the on-base gym was rather empty, some soldiers training here and there, but mostly you were alone.

"you'd probably be dead or shot without me, i handled my self pretty good back there, if i do say so myself." you took the knife in your dominant hand and took the same position in as him.

"is that so?" he asked and launched forward, pressing the knife against your throat.

"that wasn't very i'm-gonna-teach-you-how-to-defend-yourself of you!" you said and took a step back. "okay i get it, we need to work on my reaction time, who would've thought you're gonna launch at me like that!" you groaned at pushed the knife out of your face.

"look, you're gpnna attack the chest, shoulders, face, anywhere here" ghost motioned to the upper part of his body. "catch them off guard. we're gonna start slow. block my attacks like you usually would."

you took a breath and started blocking his attacks, by pushing his wrists away and ducking away from the knife.

"faster" he said and increased the speed, taking his second arm and immitating punches. "you're doing good, faster"

slowly you were getting problems with countering his attacks, you weren't really trained for stuff like that. your hands were steady, your movements always fluent and slow, no sudden reactions. the knife fight was completely different than what you were used to.

"no!" you gasped when his knife hit your chest and slit over it.

"two minutes, that's not enough" ghost sighed. "attack me."

you nodded and brushed the hair out of your face, raising your arms, mimicking the motions you'd usually use in combat, still those they teached in boot-camp.

"you gotta surprise me, hit me with something i wouldn't expect!"

you thought about it for a moment, what would really catch him off guard? you remembered your first training with him, using your smaller frame as an advantage and surprise attacking him. but that wouldn't work, he knew your tactic. but wait, maybe there was one thing you didn't try before.

you let out a small breath and took a step into his direction, faking an attack from the left side, throwing the knife into your less dominant hand and faking another attack with that hand. ghost was confused, not knowing where to block your attacks.

you tried to execute your plan in your head, if all went according to it, you could get ghost onto the ground. you took a few fast steps to him and jumped up, your right knee angled on his chest, the other wraping around his neck. you put the angled knee around his neck too and with the force of your spin you could throw him onto the ground and pin him to the ground.

you breathed heavily and put pressure with your knee onto his chest, putting the knife against his throat. ghosts eyes widened for a split second and he tapped your thigh.

"that's what i'm talking about." his mask shifted a little, as if he was smiling underneath it.

you noticed his glance fall onto your upper body and thighs for a second, before looking into your eyes again.

"you did good, i'm impressed."

[envihellbender]

Playwright/porn shoot Ben, set builder Hux art school AU with a side of yandere pls

Fandom: Star Wars

Characters: Ben Solo / Kylo Ren (trans man), Hux (agender)

Content: Yandere, sex worker

Hux hadn’t heard the front door open, he was too engrossed in his screen, his lips growing dry with anxiety and his stomach twisting. He didn’t even hear Ben come up the stairs, and open the door to their study until he spoke.

“What are you doing still up?” Ben asked. Hux became fluster and slammed his laptop lid down, his had grown a light pink. He turned to Ben who had a slight smirk on his face, clearly under the impression he’d caught him about to start wanking or something. Hux sighed and let out a forced laugh.

“Nothing,” he said a little too quickly, spinning his chair to face Ben who had his thick black eyebrows raised. “Just. Work. Designing. You know. For the play. The old factory and such… it’s a bit complicated.”

“Oh? Let me see!” Ben said excitedly he stopped forward and Hux began to panic as he protectively put one hand over his laptop.

“Not yet. It’s … my process. You know I don’t like to show you anything unfinished.” Ben stopped and looked at Hux for a minute, for a moment Hux thought he didn’t believe him. “It’s not very interesting right now anyway, I’m just doing diagrams and seeing if I can make the 3D program come up with some concepts that’s all.” Finally, Ben just shrugged, Hux stopped himself from sighing in relief and instead avoided Ben’s gaze.

“Well, whatever, I’m gonna get something to eat,” he said leaving. “Rehearsal went well today by the way thanks for asking,” he called over his shoulder passive aggressively.

“I- Great, sorry, I didn’t-” Before Hux could come up with an explanation Ben was going downstairs. He sighed and turned back to the laptop. He could make it up to him later, he thought.

Hux opened the laptop lid, swallowing nervously as he typed in his password and it sprung back to life. It immediately showed the browser open again, the image that was seared into his eyelids was right there. It was a picture of Ben, naked, sat on his heels, legs spread revealing a black triangle of pubic hair, and his long thin scars under his pectoral muscles on display. He wore a thick black collar and his wrists were cuffed together and held above his head by a pale hand. On his belly in red lipstick was ‘free to use’. He scrolled down to the description: ‘cuntboy slut just wants a belly full of cum and a mouth full of piss’. His soft thick lips were pouting, looking submissive and a little bratty. Hux felt his breathing alternate between stopping and growing quickly as his jealousy rose. He quickly scrolled through the comments, his hands shaking in anger as he saw so many people lusting over Ben, saying all the depraved things they’d do to him.

Hux went back to his email and opened the message from Victor that screamed at them from the screen: “isn’t this Ben? Lmao”. Hux wrote a simple “fuck you” in response and sent it. He felt his chest heave and his cheeks burn, he knew what Ben would say. That it was up to him, it didn’t mean he was sleeping around but… it still filled Hux with enough anger to make him want to lock Ben in their bedroom and find every single one of the commenters. Find them and rip their bodies to pieces, he thought, fantasising about dismembering them. He picture cutting off their pathetic, little cocks and shoving the blade of his knife inside their putrid cunts.

[magical-glimpse]

Hi I would also request a dream interpretation, if you have the time and energy. This one happened a few days ago. I had a dream that me and my family and best friends where visiting my mother in a hospice (this is based on what actually happened, my mom had cancer and unfortunately died last year in a hospice, but my best friend wasn't there). But her condition was much better than in reality and when we visited her in my dream, the hospice was testing out new inventions to somehow find a last minute cure. And she was talkative. While it was devastating seeing her like this, we still had a little chat I can't remember and left and me and my family assembled in the parking lot, as it was night already. Then all of a sudden a guy comes near us and asks us a question about the elevator in the dream hospice (the hospice in my dream wasn't the hospice from real life. The dream one resembles a hospital a lot more). I can't really remember what the question was but the answer was that he had to go to a room that was on like the 16th floor or something, very high. And then he got super pissed and started to yell. More to himself, but he eventually left muttering, with his friend I didn't notice was behind him, who kept mouthing apologies. We thought it was weird, but just left it at that.

When we got home I immediately went to my bedroom and kept thinking about my mom, who seemed a lot better due to the inventions of the hospice and I started to get a feeling of hope, that she might survive all of this and can come back home with us. But all of a sudden, I see something flying around my room and feel a sharp bite on my hand. At first, I thought it was a wasp and got scared but at a closer look, I realized that those were 3 lady bugs flying in like an infinity-shaped loop. I was trying to catch and either kill or release them, but then I had the urge to google something about lady bugs on my phone. (Irl, I'm super afraid of any sort of insect, even butterflies lmao.) And just pictures of lady bugs kept showing up but they looked very weird. They had antlers, like a deer and it was all just close up shots of their faces and insects look nasty. It startled me so bad, that I woke myself up lmao.

I have a hunch, that the part about my mom is about me not wanting to believe that she's gone forever, but I have no clue about the damn lady bugs lmao. But I have (in awakened state) accepted that she died and in our real life visit, we had a conversation, our goodbyes and how she's feeling. Given her situation, she was very positive about passing on and finally not being in pain anymore, so that was a very comforting fact for us, although we heavily mourned her loss.

I hope the dream is not too dark to do an interpretation on and if you don't feel up to do it, that's totally fine. Have a great day anyway and thank you for doing this <3

I am sorry about your mom anon...

For the lady bog part, orginally i was gonna go with the interpretatiin of faith and protection ( thry zre often called gods favorite insect in maky lnaguages) but your google thing interested me, and i found it was a sign of separation.If you have other relatives who died, then maybe three of them are looking after you even after you were separated.If you believe in the afterlife then it is a sign you will meet again and have more time together.Thr fzct the faces were pretty bad maybe means that the three relatives were sick, or that their passing was hard emotionally on you up close, but from fzr away (with time) you saw it was at the right time (ie you mourning your mom but knowing she wasnt in pain anymore).I think there is another possible interpretation but i cznt exzclty find it ?

[inn-oceanid]

TELL ME. WAS IT A SIN TO FEEL ?

Art not mine btw, ctto.

Kunikuzushi drabbles.

Not proofread. Unsure lore, maybe ooc because, who the hell knows about Kunikuzushi that time-? But this is how I picture him if he stayed with Ei

Consider this as the part two of “Being friends with Kunikuzushi ?”

After being friends with Kunikuzushi. How do I start again.

He is the type to follow wherever you lead him to, he doesn’t think about the danger, tragedies that might happen, if both of you might get lost, nothing. He just follows you like a puppy and he won’t ever get tired of it.

You don’t mind him following anyway, you know that he knows that.

But of course, as a part for your growing friendship, you can never avoid things getting personal day by day. Sharing each other’s about one’s problem is a thing, you’re friends after all.

When Kunikuzushi sees you crying, he becomes quiet. A different sort of quiet, he’s sincerely trying to think of a way to comfort you, as he tries to remember what his creator had taught him about mortals and feelings.

He gently wipes your tears away with the sleeve of his yukata, and tries to pull your hands away that was covering your face, your tears away from him. But if he knows he couldn’t pull it away, he’ll let you be and just hug you instead.

“Shh.. it’s okay. Cry it all out.” He whispers while he combs your hair, listening to your sobs. —just like how Ei would do when he wakes up, crying, from his sleep.

While he’s comforting you, he’ll try to speak about about something, like how you would always do. “Did you know? My creator told me that she really really likes you.” Something like that. Even though it isn’t to be said lmao-

“But still, not the way I like you of course.. I think that’s different.”

After hearing it, it made your head lift up to look at him immediately. Did he seriously said that right now? You would ask yourself. In fact he did, he knows he did, you heard him right. Kunikuzushi was just speaking truth, he wanted you to know that.

“Hm?” He tilts his head when you stare at him for a little too long, “Are you okay now?” He asks and you nodded.

“That’s great. I dislike it when you cry tears, it makes me want to do the same.. it hurts my throat.” He chuckled as his comment slipped from his mouth so innocently. It made your heart flutter, really. It made you smile.

“You’re so sweet.” You’d compliment him, which makes him feel flattered the same way as you.

Kunikuzushi always (mostly) makes you feel appreciated by his true words that even himself has no intentions to spill it. There’s just always something inside him that tell him to say it, that you deserve it, so sometimes he won’t notice himself showering you with compliments while you become so shy. (And he still won’t notice how shy you are.)

He’s a man who never notice quickly, which makes him so innocent. He’ll understand what he said after hours of thinking about it. And he’ll just end up chuckling quietly to himself while he rests in the Tenshukaku, gazing at the stars that twinkle.

He’s always excited for tomorrow to come. He wonders what the two of you will do in the next day, where will you go, what will you buy, what will you eat? He doesn’t plan what to do but guess, once he got them correct by the next day, he’ll celebrate quietly.

“What did you two do today?” Ei would ask every time, when she combs his hair before he sleeps. It has became a routine for her as well, to hear his stories, his feelings, and give him some advices.

“This evening, we went to Ritou and watched ships sail away. She brought the dango milk that she always bring. I had drawn to like the sweet beverage as well.” He’ll reply, ready to tell his creator every details, and he won’t let even a small one be forgotten.

“What’s dango milk?” “—it’s dango with milk. By vendor Tomoki. It’s very sweet, and I think you’d really like it. Would you like me to bring you some tomorrow?”

“No need.” Ei chuckles at the boy.

“[Name] really liked the kushikatsu that you made me bring from Guuji Yae.” “—oh really? Well, isn’t that flattering?”

Kunikuzushi nods, “She also said she wants to meet you in person soon.” He smiled at the thought of you meeting his creator, you’d surely be happy.

“…” Ei took seconds before answering.

“If I don’t get too busy, I shall visit her with you.”

“Is that a promise?” He asks, turning around at her. Ei placed the wooden comb on the floor and dusted her thighs, she nodded. “It’s a promise. Now, you must head to sleep, Kunikuzushi. Another day awaits for you tomorrow.”

The boy happily slipped inside his futon, obeying his creator’s orders and drifted to sleep, his excitement for a new day never left his mind and his heart.

Ei observed him, with amusement of the knowledge he gets from outside. Promises. —Thanks to you.

[heather-ouo]

Honkai&oc x (step) sibling! Reader ( Headcanon)

Kiana Kaslana addition

——————————————————————————————————

things to remind

(f/m) - favourite manga

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

[ Kiana Kaslana ] 

_ after been rescued by Siegfried

When K-423 was taken into the family you were confused and asked Siegfried where’s Kiana, he didn’t have the guts to tell you the fact when the plane exploded they were separated from Kiana.

-

K-423 is dumbfounded to watch the youngest as they run around the room crying for their real sibling instead of the clone.

-

It took three years for you to accept the clone but you never called her by Kiana, instead is “ Onee-san ” and the twins start to wander around the world after Siegfried left them due to the unknown.

-

So after some years the twins enter a school called “ Chabi academy ” and become friends with a girl named Mei saving her

-

from the rooftop. The two of you protected Mei from all the trouble like two Knights protecting their princess.

-

You find it odd how Kiana has such a weird tendency towards Mei like when she takes out one of Mei’s panties whenever she is gone for groceries since Kiana invited her to live with you two, but hey Kiana has a way to zip your mouth by giving you (f/m).

——— lost control 

When Kiana lost her control over the herrscher inside her, you and Himeko were the ones that stopped her. It caused a life for a life from Kiana’s point of view, Himeko is alive but she went into a coma due to overuse of Honkai and you?

-

Kiana watches in despair at your cracked body and fainted Himeko falls into the ocean as she faints due to the injection, Theresa immediately sends out Valkyries to find your body in the sea after she found Himeko floating on water near the beach and Kiana fainted on the beachside, but you were nowhere to be seen.

-

Unfortunately they only find your weapon and two blurry family photographs: two white haired adults with a white haired twins holding each other's hand, the other one is a white haired male kneed down on the snow with two white haired girls one of the twins has bandage over her right eye.

-

Mei did her best to cheer Kiana up with her favorite food in which it didn’t work out, she locked herself in your room. Kiana remembered you said something about going to your room if she ever felt upset or felt like a danger to the others while you were gone, she found a box with “ Onee-San only! >:( ” some letters for her and a book full of photographs of the family including Kiana.

Dear, Onee big si Kiana or whoever is reading this 

You probably find this while searching in my room while I'm out huh?

Maybe I told you where I hid it, or someone else found it and gave it to you.

Either way I have a feeling I should write this just in case.

I… have accepted you as my older sister a long time ago but.. it feels odd to call someone who has the same face as older sister, i have a name in mind but our stupid father decided to give her name to you.

It feels rude not calling your name but the name i always wanna call you is “ Diana ” only a letter different but is the best i could save for older sister if we could find her.

Diana.. you are more than a clone at this point we have already accepted you as our family member, that herrscher in your body.. let's say in the odd way… mom tried to adopt her and turns out not good, if you accidentally follow Auntie Theresa into “ that ” basement Istrapto lur ( rest is erased out)

That girl Mei.. She could be a great wife and I don't have to worry about you poisoning someone or yourself with your cooking. I wish you good luck getting her hands on marriage! You have my blessing and dad’s (Ps. Don't you think i didn’t know about it you secretly took pictures of Mei >:) ) 

Anyway, don't forget to drink some water and eat healthier!

Don’t miss me too much~

Ich☆liebe☆dich~

love, (y/n) Kaslana :D

——— becoming HoF

Bronya, Fu hua and Kiana step into the theater of Domination again due to Honkai reaction rises in the same spot, diving into the deep Puppets, the memory she hate to see, and you.. you sitting in the giant Mechanical hand of the Herrscher dressed in dark brown and golden clothes stares blankly at her, the sky blue no long shines replace with dull blue and the same cracks on you body is still there.

-

In the final battle you were placed safely in cover while Kiana gave her last strike and defeated The Herrscher of Dominance in the meantime she became The Herrscher of Flamescion.

-

You are in a vegetative state yet Kiana holds you close to her afraid if she lets go you will fade to dust.

-

Despite being in a vegetative state tears spill out like rain drops on Kiana’s shoulder letting the older know you are alive.

 . . .

    . .

       .

“ Diana onee-San! Wake up! Sister in law Is cooking your favorite food today! ”

“ i told you you can still call me Mei..”

“ Mei-senpai then. ”

“ Oi (Y/n)! Only i can call Mei as Mei-senpai! ”

“ YOU ARE MARRIED TO HER! IS MY TURN TO CALL MEI LIKE THAT! ”

“ YOU WANNA GO?! ”

Mei have to stop the twin who’s pulling each weapons out before they flip the roof again.

——————————————————————————————————

Masterlist

————————————

I swear to god the crossroad near my house is cursed

It’s the fourth crush this year

——————

tagging people ( permission asked :D )

@azukaaa

And that other person i try to tag

( IT WONT COME UP)

[zeldaelmo]

The Pen Pal Plan, chapter 4

She still hadn't recovered when he placed a glass of ruby-colored wine in front of her. 

"Nice flower. I heard they are endangered, though," he said, taking his seat beside her.

"No no no, wait." Zelda shut her mouth that had stupidly hung open and drank half of the glass in one go without waiting for him. "Explain this to me right now. I just– everything. Explain everything."

He sighed deeply, fingering the base of his glass. "Believe me, this is not how I had planned this evening at all, but okay, you want to hear everything, so you'll get just that."

An outstretched hand awaited her and she was baffled enough to take it. "Link of Hateno. Member of the Royal Guard for five years now. I'm mostly in the unit of your father's guards, so you haven't seen me around a lot. Not that we're easy to tell apart with the armor, anyway."

"Zelda." 

His eyes crinkled at her curt answer and her stomach bounced. 

"Okay, you are a guard, that much was obvious in the last hours. But…" She just couldn't wrap her head around it.

"Yes, I'm also the man you wanted to meet here. I didn't leave the tavern as you had assumed because I was never here without you. It's complicated."

Zelda rubbed her forehead and sighed. "I have time."

Link smiled at her, blinking slowly and reassuringly. Oh, she liked the effect he had on her, he was like ordering a cup of tea on a paperwork day.

"The barracks went crazy about your announcement last year. I mean, who doesn't want to marry a princess? At the end of the evening, everyone was either drunk or in the infirmary because they'd gotten into a fistfight."

"Or both." Zelda grimaced.

"Yeah. I think in the end, half of the soldiers tried their luck." He took a sip of wine, clearing his throat. "Sorry. I usually don't talk so much. Anyway, my friends decided, we should all write to you and see who makes it the furthest."

Zelda's heart plummeted. Great, her hand was some kind of sport to him. This day couldn't get any worse. How naive she had been to think such a plan would let her find a husband!

"And you've won, what exactly, now that you're here?" She asked coldly, pushing the paper flower over the table with her index.

"No! That's not… please look at me, Zelda."

She squinted her eyes shut, cursing under her breath how much she liked hearing her name in his voice. 

"I told them I didn't get an answer after the third letter."

She risked a glance back at him, regretting it immediately. His big blue eyes begged her to believe him, and she wanted to, she really did! The events of the day, however, had sunk their claws into her and left a nagging doubt.

"It's okay," he whispered so that she could barely hear him over the loud music. "Take your time. If you allow it, I'll tell the rest of the story so that you have the whole picture?"

She nodded, curling her fingers around her wine glass. That was reasonable enough.

"I never planned to be on duty today. When you invited me, I imagined I'll take the day off and come here in private, as your pen pal that I'd been for months, and not as a knight of the Kingdom."

"But?"

He cracked a smile. "Let's just say your father wasn't exactly on board with the festival plan. I can't blame him, all the people, the crowdedness… He only agreed because he hand-picked the guards to accompany you."

Zelda sighed. "And you were one of them."

"I was on the list, but not on duty at first. But then one of the others fell ill and I was the pinch hitter."

It would be foolish to lie about such information that she could so easily prove false and he looked as miserable as a puppy who had fallen into a bucket of water about the whole affair. Her gaze hefted to the ever-beer-drawing innkeeper, she slowly shifted her foot over the wooden planks and rested it against his boot. 

Surprised, his eyes shot up to hers and he met her small smile with his own.

"I will give you the benefit of the doubt," she said.

His heavy exhale let the Silent Princess on the table flutter.

"But… how had you planned this?" She made a sweeping gesture around the tavern. "Having a glass of wine with me and all your comrades are standing guard is quite awkward."

"Yeah, that, uh, well." He ruffled the hair at his nape and his hand dropped back to the table. "I didn't have a plan. I hoped I would catch you in a private moment to tell you. Or… or I wouldn't have revealed myself and slipped a letter to the barkeeper that I couldn't maintain the appointment."

Zelda laughed into her hand. "But then I got stuck onto the horse and you saw your opportunity!"

Link's grin shifted from lopsided to broad. "Yeah! It was perfect! But then I had the next problem because I didn't know how to tell you." He leaned closer, chuckling. "Especially since Her Highness had started flirting with me."

"Oh, hush!" Zelda laughed and swatted him away. "Who wanted me to jump into his arms?"

Link crossed his arms, tipping his head up. "Call of duty, Ma'am."

The following fit of laughter made Zelda wipe tears out of the corner of her eyes. Now, this was what she'd hoped for when she started the Pen Pal Plan!

"Okay, okay, I believe you. The story is just too stupid to make it up," she said, erupting into a new fit of giggles. 

"Hey!" He lifted his hands. "I speak nothing but the truth! My friends will kill me when they find out that I used a white lie to escape their little bet."

"Oh." Zelda stared at him with wide eyes. "Are they going to be mad?"

Link shrugged and sipped on his glass. "They'll get over it. It was just a nice excuse to actually sit down and write to you. Probably would have chickened out without them."

"Well, I owe them my thanks, then," she said, smiling warmly. 

Every fit of laughter had drawn them closer together on the bench and now not only their feet nudged each other, but they touched from shoulder to hip, their legs casually pressed together. Her glass was empty and so was his, but she didn't want to stand up. Everything was perfect. They had just continued where they had left up in their letters, words and easy vibes bouncing between them. Was… this the moment?

The warm air of the tavern pressed on her lungs, but she inhaled deeply anyway. "Um, Link?"

He hummed contently, brushing the back of his hand over hers.

"I, uh, well, my mother said, that, that–" Nervousness ate her words up.

Link turned to her, lips slightly parted in confusion. Zelda's gaze not only dropped to them, no she outlined them with her eyes, again and again. "She–she says I, um, should only consider someone, uh, someone who's a good kisser."

He chuckled. "Oh? Well, I heard she's a wise woman," Link breathed and took her hand in his on the table. Zelda swallowed, drifted closer, and only stopped when a hint of wine tickled her nose. He squeezed her hand, encouraging—

"Eh, kid! What do you think you're doing there?" Heavy steps clunked over the wooden floor. Four spear tips pressed into their space in the little nook – the remaining guards had finally caught up to her. Their hair and beards were frozen over and one had a black eye which only added to their intimidating appearance.

They both froze, a breath apart, but then, they blushed furiously and separated from each other like an arrow snapping away a bow. 

Link slowly raised his hands, underlining that he had no plans to use the dagger at his hips. 

Zelda’s eyes slipped close, and a desperate sigh left her mouth.

What was wrong with this day?

[luminari-mc]

(Mammon x MC/Reader)

Prompt: "She doesn't compare to you. No one does.”

Genre: Angst, hurt(emotional)/comfort.

Pairing: GN!MC/Reader x Mammon

Summary: You and Mammon finally get to enjoy a well-deserving shopping trip just between the two of you. Just as you are about to hit the next shop, your attention is caught by an image advertised in the street.

Warnings: N/A

A/N: I wanted to try my hands at a prompt that is tagged as "fluff", but of course I ended up turning it into something angsty instead. But I like sad stuff, so that still works for me.

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

It wasn't often that you got to spend time with Mammon without having any of his brothers around to bother you. But you had made it very clear to them that these few hours after school would be spent with Mammon, and only him. And for today's trip, you two had decided to go shopping in one of the busiest streets in the Devildom.

Clothes and jewelry stores, malls- you had done them all. When most of this time had been spent doing window shopping, Mammon had still insisted on getting at least a few bags of purchased goods for each of you by the end of the day. After all, what was the point of going on a shopping trip, if you didn't end up emptying your bank account only to regret it later?

And so, thanks to the demon's wonderful influence, your arms had now several bags hanging off of them. There was a certain guilt still looming over your head as you realized way overboard you might have gotten with your purchases, but Mammon promised he would take care of any financial problems you could encounter in the near future because of that. You still wondered how he was going to manage it, him being Mammon and all...

"Damn, now THAT'S what I call a good haul! Look at ya!" The white-haired demon grinned as he watch you hop out of the store, the glass doors opening automatically at your presence to let you out. He placed his wrists on his hips as his own bags dangled in his hands. "What'cha got for yourself this time?"

"They actually had that jacket I saw in a magazine the other day!" The doors closed behind you as you showed the white bag which contained the jacket. "You were right, that store was amazing. I can't believe you never showed it to me before."

"Ha! Told ya the Great Mammon knew where the best treasures were! Consider it an exclusive info, because I ain't gonna share more if any of my brothers are around next time." Mammon turned around before flipping a few of his bags over his shoulder, as you instantly began to trot to get to his level.

"What? So all this time you knew about it and you didn't tell me? Just because Asmo comes with us sometimes?" You expressed shock, right before your eyebrows joined together. "Really, as if you couldn't have told me over text or something."

"And have you go without me?! Nah, ain't gonna happen- you'd just get lost and end up in the worst store possible." Mammon glanced your way, and you could only smirk at his poor excuse.

"Sure, you're right. I forgot that humans don't have the same flawless sense of orientation as demons do." Despite your obviously sarcastic tone, Mammon didn't seem to register it as he nodded at your words.

"Exactly! Even if I gave you the full address, who knows where you'd end up? I don't want ya to come and complain to me afterwards, so it's gotta be with me or nothin'."

Even as you rolled your eyes, you noticed Mammon's face slightly turning away from yours, probably to hide the extra shade of color that had appeared on his cheeks ever so discreetly. Even when he was in his usual tsundere mood, it was endearing to see how concerned he was for your safety. And just how badly he wanted to be alone with you.

"So, where to next?" You asked without really thinking, surprising yourself that even after your extensive purchasing, you still wanted to do more. Or maybe it was that you didn't want this date to end right away. The past few weeks had been nothing but the brothers interrupting each other when any of them found themselves alone with you, so getting to spend some alone time with one of them, especially with Mammon, deserved to be extended a bit more.

"Glad ya asked!" As if a battery had been plugged into him, the demon brandished his arm into the air, the bags swinging by his face and missing him by a few inches. "I got this whole place where they're sellin' tons of stuff for pretty cheap, but it's actually authentic branded things. See, they're actually sold to that one guy who then has to sell them to another guy, and..."

As you listened to Mammon explain how he was able to find "authentic stuff" (probably not that authentic, you were pretty sure about that) for less than a quarter of its original price, your eyes found themselves drifting to an impressive ad plastered on a building the two of you were walking by. Recognizing the habit of Majolish to put their models on display for everyone to see was pretty easy, but that wasn't what caught your eye in the moment.

What tuned Mammon down completely in your ears, were the models themselves. The second born, sitting on a stool with a ripped shirt and pants, a few accessories hanging off his neck and barely covering anything of his exposed chest. He looked serious, staring straight at the objective- and at you, while the light shined on him to completely capture his frame for the picture.

And sitting down in the middle of the shot, between his legs, was a female demon wearing a red leather dress, her head resting on top of Mammon's leg. The clawed hand dangling off his knee- covered in golden rings, seemed to taunt you, as well as the piercing yellow eyes she had. Saying she wasn't beautiful would be lying. In fact, she was absolutely stunning. A perfect model for a perfect shot. Just looking at her made you feel small, like a prey that was about to be devoured by a hungry beast, the longer you were looking at her.

But that's what demons were supposed to make you feel like, right?

"Hey!" Mammon called out from the distance he had put between the two of you since you had stopped walking beside him. "Yo, MC!"

Watching as you kept staring into nothing, Mammon rolled his shoulders with a furrowed brow before walking back toward you, his head tilting to the side as he noticed your dead expression.

"Huuh hello, Devildom to MC? In which realm did ya get lost this time?"

"They replaced it." The words that left your mouth were weak, almost too silent for him to hear. It's as if all of the energy you had had evaporated from your body in an instant.

"Huh?" Mammon grew a bit concerned at this sudden change. His eyes perked up at the ad you were looking at, as you continued.

"The shoot we did together." Finally, you spared yourself from the sight, your gaze dropping to the ground. "They already replaced it with another one."

As soon as Mammon understood why *this* ad in particular seemed to be upsetting you so much, his jaw was already clenching. He remembered the stars he had seen in your eyes the previous week when you saw yourself on the Majolish ad, posing beside him- a shoot opportunity you had gotten while accompanying him after RAD a few days prior. In the middle of his shoot, he practically didn't leave any choice to his agent and had insisted that you be included in the shots to promote one of the new pieces of jewelry the brand was planning to release in the upcoming months. Asmo, who was there to witness your reaction on that day the three of you went out, had even taken a hundred pictures or so of you posing in front of the ad.

Except that, the jewelry you had posed with, was now present on the new model posing alongside Mammon.

He had made sure to engrave that smile of yours in his head at the time, even going so far as to snap a picture of your face while you were too focused on Asmo to notice him. But now, there was absolutely no trace of that same happiness anymore.

"The fuck?" The snarl that left him shook the walls of his throat. "That wasn't supposed to be advertised before another month! Why'd they have to take ours so soon?!"

"It's okay, Mammon." The demon stopped growling as his eyes lowered on the hand that was clutching his arm. "I mean... I'm not a model. Figures they wouldn't put it up for long... I-I mean, look at me. Seriously, who would want to see my face being exposed for longer than they can bare? It's hard to imagine. I wouldn't probably have sold their product anyway, so... it's okay."

The look on your face was devastating. Despite trying your best to smile, the tears pricking in your eyes were threatening to roll down your cheeks at any second. Mammon felt his heart being stabbed with a thousand invisible daggers, he couldn't bear to watch you feeling insulted in such a way.

His bags were immediately dropped onto the floor, the demon no longer caring for any of the fragile items he may have bought. His hands swung forward to cup your cheeks, forcing your face up to look at him straight in the eyes.

"Hey hey, MC. C'mon, look at me."

You did your best not to let your vision turn blurry because of the upcoming tears, and stared back at Mammon, your bottom lip trembling weakly.

"I don't care what anyone, model agents or not, can say- you'd sell a thousand more times than any fuckin' models out there, okay? In fact, you're worth even more than their stupid jewelry!"

His thumb quickly brushed away a tear from the corner of your eye as his other hand came to rest on your temple.

"They just put that one up there because that model is famous. They don't care about what's really beautiful, they just want to boast their popularity to the rest of the world." The blue of his eyes seemed to radiate the closer he moved towards you. "But I know what's beautiful. And her? She doesn't compare to you. No one does."

You could only look down in shame as his hands never left you, closing your eyes shut to let a couple tears out before Mammon grabbed a tissue from his pocket to dry your face. He patiently waited a few seconds for you to calm down, soothing you with slow caresses of your hair until your shoulders stopped shaking.

"I'm sorry..." you muttered, sniffling as you passed a wrist over your eyes. "I don't know why that upset me so much..."

"Ya got nothing to be sorry about." Mammon retrieved his hands from your head, only to grab the bags that were hanging off of your arms. He somehow manages to hold them alongside his own behind him, before wrapping the other arm around your shoulder.

"Hey, I'd call this a day. How about I prepare ya a bath when we're home? Courtesy of the Great Mammon."

You nodded, your lips arching into a smile as you grabbed the hand hanging off your shoulder. The day was cut too short for your liking, but you didn't feel up for any additional purchases, or to properly enjoy your outing anymore.

"Will you wash my hair?" You entertwined your fingers with his as he gave them a gentle squeeze.

"Pah, of course! Who else but me could do that?" He huffed through his nose, shaking his head at such an obvious question. Your laugh ringing in his ears gave him a brief moment of respite.

But the demon furrowed his brows as he lead you into your walk back home, keeping you snuggled at his side. Holding the bags in his left hand, his white nails sharply digged into his palm the more steps he took alongside you.

Making them cry? Such a big, big mistake. One thing was sure, Mammon wasn't about to let that one pass.

"But before that..." The hiss that escaped his throat went unnoticed by the two of you as your head rested against his shoulder.

"I'll have a few calls to make."

[maximumkillshot]

By The Books-Part 3

Warnings:The regulars with this series, you know... and then some... lets call it fluff? Idk it’s been a hot min.  Pairing: Professor!Dean x Reader x Professor!Sam (EVENTUALLY)   Characters: Dean, Sam, Reader A/N: I hope yall enjoy it!!!

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Before:

As I was cooking dinner Sam walked In, in search of a beer most likely.

“So what do you really make of Y/N?” Sam asked, or should I say inquired because I’m a professor now… any way I answered with a “she seems cool, like she can hang with the big boys in the big leagues. She’s got promise. Especially in abnormal psych. I should the Gacy picture,”

“Not the one with the decalitated head.” 

I nodded as I mixed up the ground beef with the marinara sauce.

“Yep, she didn’t even flinch.” I said as I added some spice. 

“Well dean you should’ve seen her answering questions in my class. I kid you not, she demolished everyone. It was art.” Said Sam as he took a seat.

“I’m sure it wasn’t as—“ I was cut off by Sam saying “she answered the Wicca v. Witchcraft question, Dean, no hesitation, just pure facts.”

“You thinking we need to do a test on her?” I asked. “I shook her hand with a silver ring, cross on the inside. I wore blessed oil and got close too, no reaction.” I relplied.

Sam added, “I had salt on the entries and exits, devils trap under right where she was standing, got no adverse reaction.”

“So she’s naturally this good?” I asked as I served up his salad and my real food.

“Or she’s just curious” said Sam as he took in a mouthful, “either way we’ll see what she’s made of soon enough.”

NOW:

Two Weeks Later 

Dean POV:

 Man today’s classes went on way too long. I’ve been getting impatient with these kids. None of them are rising to the occasion when it comes to Y/N. She literally wipes the floor with them. I could see the hate from some of these kids who roll their eyes when she raises her hand. It’s almost like they know her adding onto the class means that they need to work more in the end. Not to mention she’s doing all of this while being a student researcher for not just one professor, but two. 

As soon as class was dismissed today I texted my brother, making sure our plans for lunch were set in stone. As soon as I got the okay from him I made my way to the Chinese restaurant across from campus, where we were planning to meet. Luckily, he was already there and ordered.

My brother noticed my frustration immediately, “Someone’s pissy. What happened?”

I just replied with “These kids. They’re acting some kinda way towards Y/N simply because she’s stepping up to the plate.”

“That’s happening in your class too?”

“Yeah, it’s really pissing me off. She does such great work and obviously knows what she’s doing.”

“Maybe it’s just too easy for her, Dean. Maybe we need to crank it up.”

I looked at him sideways, “we are trying to teach her, Sammy, not murder the poor girl, it’s bad enough she has to defend a thesis.”

“A thesis which we are going to help her prepare…” Sam said with a smirk as he sipped on his tea. 

“Come again?” I asked.

“Yesterday she and I were reading ancient ritual ceremonial books from the ….”

“Can we please skip the magical shit, Sam?”

“Ok fine, anyway, she shared her idea of a thesis with me and I tend to like it alot actually…”

“Mind letting me in on this or?” I questioned.

“Her thesis is going to be on the importance and ramifications of human sacrifices on the psyche. It’s going to explore it from a ritualistic and criminal psychological aspect, tying ritual killings to serial killers and finding where that drive comes from.”

“Ok, not gonna lie…. That is gonna kill every other thesis presented.” I smiled. “I never looked at either of those topics being tied together and yet she found this pattern? How?”

Sam smiled and said, “if you give a builder the materials and tools, they’ll build the Taj Mahal, Dean.”

I replied with “Sammy… Don’t ever use any analogy ever again, it’s cringe worthy.”

“No it’s not.”

“Yes… yes it is.”

Then I saw that the waiter brought over three bowls of rice and then I heard Y/N behind me, “hey sorry I’m late.”

I immediately looked to Sam and he said “Nonsense you’re right on time.”

As she sat down Sam continued, “So… I just filled Dean in on your thesis.”

“Yeah he did, I’m seriously impressed Y/N. You are kicking some serious ass here.” I said as I took a mouthful of rice. 

“Thanks, it’s gonna be hard tying them together though. Ritualistic killings can claim the fear of repercussions but serial killings? Not necessarily.” She said as she took a mouthful of rice.

I started thinking and I said, “Well one could say that many serial killers have a drive to kill, in that it could be considered ritualistic. You also have many serial killers that have patterns to their madness. Very ritualistic in nature. Just because there’s no deity behind it doesn’t necessarily mean that it isn’t ritualistic.”

Her eyes lit up and she said, “That’s true but that only explains a fraction of the serial killers out there.”

I continued, “You’re right about that. The other majority is those with mental illnesses. I did study those as well. In many of those cases it can be seen as a fear driven act. Like some serial killers have a fear of rejection, so they kill the victim before they can be rejected. Others have unresolved childhood trauma that leads them to enact vengeance, trying to make things right.”

Sammy interjected, “That can even be tied to the ritualistic killings of the Mayan peoples. Whenever they had a bad harvest or wanted to appease the gods, make things right, they’d give human sacrifices until their luck turned around. But this is just one of the many early peoples and religions that did this.”

I concluded, “So you need to find that one commonality. If you look at these cases, and these religions, stripped down to their bones. You’ll find that there is really not much difference between these ritualistic killings and these mass murderers. And for those that kill just to kill, you could even say that they were ritualistic in the aspect of repetition.”

She looked confused at that, “How is repetition ritualistic?”

“The act of repeating something is a ritual in and of itself. A definition of ritual as an adjective is arising from convention or habit.”

Her eyes got even brighter as she said, “Ahh I see, so just the fact that it’s done the same way multiple times can consider it as a repetitious act, Making it literally a ritualistic killing pattern.”

Sam looked at me and nodded saying, “Meaning that the drive to kill is repetitious no matter what the trigger is, especially in serial killers and in ritualistic killings.”

I continued, “Many serial killers even describe their murders as ceremonial. They felt they needed to be done, whether it be to regain control, to fix the past, or to just satiate a need. This all falls into ritualistic killings because there is a purpose to them, even if they did it just because they could, that in itself is a reason.”

She smiled and looked down to her rice, “I.. how… Claire wasn’t kidding.” She said under her breath to herself.

Sammy’s eyebrows furrowed, “What did Claire say?”he asked.

She took a forkful of rice and looked up at him with her smile peaking through, “She told me you guys would be more than willing to help.” She swallowed the rice and looked at us both up and down, “And more than equipped to do the job right.”

“I’m equipped to do a few things, Sweetheart.” Shit… did that just come out of my mouth… Fuck me.

She looked unphased as Sammy looked mortified, “What Dean means is, he is also a specialist in witchcraft and religion…. Right Dean…” his eyes got big as I cleared my throat..

“Uhh yeah, I also have a mean medieval weapons collection at home, as well as my hundreds of books on murderers and stuff. You should come by, Sammy has a few occult books that could help with the thesis too. Make a night out of it?” I asked, trying to save myself.

Her head cocked to the side, “Are you asking me over to your place, Dean?” “As much as I want to help you,” I said with as much confidence as I could muster, “I can’t give you all of the information that our library at home can. It’s a literal goldmine for someone like you for a thesis. This is strictly professional but I do understand if that makes you uncomfortable. I can bring a few in but because I can’t say with 100% certainty where you’re going or where you’re at in your thesis, the stuff I bring in may not help you. It may be better for you to just come by and have a look for yourself.”

She nodded as she said “Well I only have a writing class left after this then I’ll be off until Tuesday… So what day works for you?” She asked.

Sammy and I both have the same schedules and ironically… It’s the same as hers, only on campus Tuesdays/Thursdays, online classes Monday and Wednesday.

“When do you get out of your class?” I asked as I checked my watch. “4:30pm” She said as she continued to eat. “I mean we can hang around for a few hours, get some papers graded while you have class, and we can go home with you, I’ll make some dinner and we’ll dive into those books, sound good?” I asked while Sam’s face slowly started contorting.

“Sounds awesome, and thanks so much for all of this. I know it’s not easy letting someone into your home.” She smiled. Sam wiped the discomfort off of his face as he said, “We are just really excited that someone is as enthusiastic about this stuff as we are, it’s not every day that we meet students that are this skilled and well… have an iron stomach for our subjects.” He chuckled. I laughed, “yeah usually kids go running out of our classes once things get uncomfortable.”

She smirked and said, “Growing is uncomfortable, Knowledge can be uncomfortable, that's why the kids run, but the adults stay and handle business.” She said as the waiter came up.

After a nice lunch Y/N said her goodbyes and Sammy and I stood at the table, as soon as the door closed my head snapped to Sammy, “How the hell is she not a hunter?” “Dean”

“No, don't Dean me, you see her right? The way she walks, the way she studies and writes, the way sheeee…” I struggled finding the words. “Hunts for information…” Sam completed.

“Yes! Yes exactly… Sammy she is doing this for more than a thesis. She has to be.” I said as I thought long and hard.

“She’s doing it to impress us.” Sam said. “We are not that special Sammy, she is drop dead gorgeous and has way more important shit to do.” I was exasperated.

“Maybe this is a sign,” I said as Sammy huffed.

“Not this again” “Just hear me out Sammy, what if this is Chuck saying ‘okay boys you had your fun now let's get back into the game, shall we?’” I asked as I played with the straw of my drink.

“Chuck is gone, Dean… You know that.”

“No, I know that Amara had enough of his shit and trapped him on this planet, that’s what I know.” I replied. “Dean… we are retired.” Sam huffed as he took the check to the counter. “So was the Terminator and Rick-Flair but after a decade, bam! Rick’s back in the ring and Terminator’s…. You know…. terminating.” Sam rolled his eyes as we walked out of the restaurant, “listen, Dean, we don’t know her motivation, but we both know if she was a hunter she wouldn’t be able to get up at 5 am to decode tomes before classes, she’d be knocked out, in her bed, with bruises, scars and bloody laundry waiting in the next room. Hunters aren’t masters students. They’re backroads highwaymen, they’re outlaws, they’re….”

“Professors” I said as I turned Sammy towards me, “They’re super intelligent, smartasses, master manipulators, actors, weapons and religion specialists… They are masters at hiding in plain sight… Sam… we are hunters and we have fucking Doctorates.”

“Oh my god,” Sam Drawled out. “Given you hacked Harvard’s servers to get us them but still, we’re fucking doctors.” I said as I rushed out the truth and Sam started walking. “Dean, listen to me… Y/N has no marks, no scars, no bruises. She’s not jumpy or attuned with her surroundings, she has no indication of hidden runes, tomes, no unusual jewelry… She is just a normal woman, with a very interesting set of hobbies that she happens to be getting a degree in. Stop making it more than that… Don’t get her on a path that leads to death. We already did that to hundreds of people. It’s time to stop.” Sam said sternly. I looked at him and said, “fine, fine… We’ll help the girl, get her thesis on track, pray to god she teaches with us, and we’ll move on… but what if she finds out about our past?” “She won’t, it’s all locked away. We made sure of that.” Sam said as we walked into the elevator.

TAG ARMY:

@mamaredd123 , @impala-dreamer , @impalaimagining , @jotink78 , @nichelle-my-belle , , @scorpiongirl1 , @ilostmyshoe-79 , @teamfreewillimagines-blog , @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid , @chelsea072498 , @brickwall035 , @maui137 , @mogaruke , @jayankles , @butiaintgonnaloveem , @kawaiilivkitty , @naviwhite , @emoryhemsworth ,

@cole-winchester , @nanie5 , @emoryhemsworth , @carribear31 , @death-unbecomes-you , @clarinette07 , @curlyhairedblueeyedangel , @deansbabygirl01, @anathewierdo , @atc74 , @kickasscas67-blog , @mannls , @adoptdontshoppets , @meganywinchester , @xalgaliareptx , @healojane , @wolfiebucky , @rayvenrider , @screechingartisancashbailiff , @superlockedtimelord, @goodgodimaweirdperson , @beltzboys2015-blog , @animegirlgeeky , @paintballkid711 , @dolphincliffs , @hawaiianohana15, @flamencodiva , @sea040561 , @goddessofmischiefs ,@gublergirlswag , @noneedtoknow789 , @supraveng ,@paryl, @stephthepeach ,@prettysourabbie , @lyarr24 , @malindacath , @melannie77 , @440mxs-wife, @hobby27​

Jared/Sam Peoples!:

@saxxxology  

[psychovigilantewrites]

Stay Away

Pairing: Reader/Jason Todd

Genre: Smut

TW: AGE GAP!! PSEUDO-INCEST! PLEASE READ SUMMARY, IVE RECEIVED LOTS OF CRITICISMS FOR THIS FIC SOOOO 

Summary: THIS IS A REPOST SINCE TUMBLR TOOK IT DOWN DUE TO POSSIBLE REPORTS LOLOL 

This fic is about a young Robin!Reader with a much older Jason. Mentions of past sexual abuse. This started out as a drabble lol, I got carried away. Anyway, Hope you enjoy! I love reading comments, so don't be shy!

Edit: Due to this fic being my only controversial one, I’d like to update the warnings by giving a brief description of what happens. Reader is adopted by Bruce at 14, she has a small innocent crush on Jason that isn’t explored until she is older (Jason has ZERO feelings for her at this stage because SHE IS JUST A KID HERE). At 16, she becomes more aggressive in flirting with Jason. At 17 (Gotham’s legal age of consent- I based this on New York’s age of consent), she has oral sex with Jason. At 18, they have sex (Jason is 27).

I wrote this a while back, and now that I’ve learned a few things along the way, I realise that a sexual relationship between a 27 year old and an 18 year old is still highly problematic- even though legal. I do not condone these actions in real life, and I doubt Jason would as well. This is purely fictional, an outlet for my fantasies when I was younger. I still do not believe in creative censorship and I want people to enjoy this fic even if it has no place in the real world. We are all allowed to escape into fiction and our own fantasy and enjoy them privately without guilt. 

“And this is Jason,” Bruce introduced you to him.

Another one?, Jason thought, though he felt slightly guilty for thinking it. He had many problems with Bruce, but deep down he knew that Bruce adopted all of them out of kindness and good intentions.

“Hey,” he grunted, holding out his hand.

You just looked at him with big, frightful eyes, still sticking close to Bruce’s side. You looked young. You couldn’t have been older than fourteen. Your hair was cropped messily short, and it made you look almost like a young boy.

Jason raised an eyebrow and dropped his hand when you didn’t take it.

“Who’s he?” you whispered to Bruce with a soft voice that the average person wouldn’t have been able to hear.

“He, well,” Bruce hesitated, “He’s Red Hood.”

Jason’s eyebrows shot up.

“I decided to tell her everything,” Bruce explained to Jason, “So she can make an informed choice since young.”

“When you’re that young,” Jason glanced at you then back to Bruce, “Anything would sound cool. Even something dangerous that will rob you of your childhood. It’s not an informed choice, you’re basically dangling a cookie in front of her.”

“I’m not young,” you squeaked, “You’re just old.”

Jason scoffed at that.

Though you had voiced out your comeback, you were still shaking in nervousness, refusing to meet his eye.

Jason couldn’t blame you for that. He knew how his eyes looked.

“All of you were younger than her when you chose this life,” Bruce said softly.

“Did we really choose, Bruce?” he argued back.

“I’m not encouraging her,” he defended, “In fact, I’m doing the exact opposite. This time, I’m telling her the truth and nothing but the truth. The good, and the ugly.”

Jason saw how you didn’t like the way the conversation was going, talking about you as if you weren’t there. You had a deep frown on your face that made you look older than you were, but also, paradoxically, a cute pout that brought out the child in you.

“Whatever,” he finally shrugged, “Your kid. As if any of us had a say in anything anyway. If this was the only reason why you asked me to come here, I’ll be leaving.”

He turned to leave the manor, to go back to his safe house.

“Good riddance, old man!” you called out after him in a shaky voice.

Jason looked back and raised an eyebrow. You immediately blushed and avoided his eyes. In the back of his head, he thought about how he could recognize your accent anywhere.

***

The next time Jason visited the manor, which was about two months after the initial introduction, he found Bruce training you basic self-defense in the Cave.

Your hair had grown slightly, and you probably fixed the cut to suit your features better.

“What happened to being discouraging?” he said out loud.

You jumped at his voice, but Bruce looked at Jason knowingly.

“It’s just self-defense,” Bruce explained, “Useful regardless of Robin or not. She’s a fast learner.”

Jason saw how your face lit up at his praise.

Great, he thought. You weren’t even Robin yet and you already got that Robin complex every one of them seemed to have had.

The constant need for praise and emotional connection from Bruce, as well as a sense of delusional idolization of the man who adopted all of you.

“Where’s Grayson?” he huffed.

“Right here, Jay,” Dick’s warm and bright voice came from behind. Jason resisted the urge to jump just like you did.

Dick was already in his Nightwing costume, and walked towards you.

“Hey little sis!” he greeted, arms open. You flung yourself at him for a hug.

Jason rolled his eyes.

“Don’t the two of you live here?” he scoffed.

“Just because you’re emotionally constipated doesn’t mean the rest of us are,” you shot at him.

Jason smirked. You were feisty, yet still wary of him.

He found that adorable.

“She’s right,” Dick chuckled, “You wanted to see me, Jay?”

“Later,” he mumbled, and changed into his alter ego.

Once Jason and Dick were alone on patrol, he brought it up.

“Don’t you disagree with this?”

“With what?”

“Her,” he said, “Or more specifically, him bringing her into all of this.”

“I did at first,” Dick frowned, “But you’ve only met her once, Jay. You don’t live with her. She’s been through a lot, and her being Robin, well, I think it’d be good for her.”

Jason felt his chest tightening. Bruce had always used the excuse that he made all of them into Robin to help channel their emotions into doing good, to prevent them from falling into darkness.

Yet, Jason still did. And he fell right into an abyssal void that he was still trying to get out of.

“Maybe,” Dick continued, “You should get to know her. You’ll see what I’m talking about, and what Bruce sees in her. Tim disagreed at first as well, but after a while, even he warmed up to the idea.”

He frowned at Dick, and then looked away, sighing.

“Whatever.”

***

A month later, Jason had agreed to meet Dick and Tim at a diner.

The food wasn’t that good, and the service average, but it held many memories for him. Dick used to take him there after patrol when he was still Robin. When he went rogue, Dick had brought Tim there. Post-rogue, all three of them would meet up.

He was early, because he was closer. He waited about ten minutes before he saw Tim walking through the door, with Dick behind him. Following Dick, he saw you.

He frowned.

He supposed that he had to get used to you being around, since you were already in the picture.

He didn’t know why he felt like distancing himself from you. With Tim, he had a good reason. A personal reason that he had moved on from.

But you? He had no reason to push you away. Though, Jason had the tendency to push everyone away.

Dick took a seat next to Jason at the booth, and across from him were Tim and you. You were dressed simply in an oversized hoodie he recognized belonged to Dick. It made you seem smaller and younger than you really were. Your hair was in a short bob now. So you were growing it out after all.

Fine. He decided to give you a chance. He had been unfair to you, after all.

“Isn’t a bit too late for you to be out, kid?” he poked at you, “Don’t you have school tomorrow?”

“Fuck you, you colossal freak of nature,” you cussed at him.

Jason was taken aback.

And then he started laughing out loud.

You weren’t so bad after all. The shyness and wariness that you displayed the earlier times almost all gone, and then there was that familiar accent that he somehow felt at ease listening to.

Dick let out a loud groan.

“You owe me twenty,” Tim suddenly said to Dick.

“Come on,” Dick addressed you, “I had faith in you! What happened?”

“It’s just in my nature, okay?” you pouted, “I can’t help it.”

Dick fished out a twenty and threw it at Tim.

“What is happening?” Jason asked, confused.

“I bet ten that the first thing she says to you would be an insult, twenty if she threw in the word ‘fuck’,” Tim grinned.

“And I,” Dick enunciated dramatically, “Thought that she would at least hold it in until after we finished eating.”

“What, you a potty mouth or something?” Jason smirked at you.

“Unless Alfred or Bruce is around,” you grinned.

It was the first time you smiled at him.

“Coward,” he shook his head, “I used to say all sorts of shit even in front of Bruce and Alfred. You gotta step up your game, kid.”

“And Alfred got you bankrupt, didn’t he?” Dick reminded, “You had to put so much of your allowance in the swear jar.”

“I believe in freedom of expression, alright?” Jason huffed, “I had to stand by my principles.”

“Principles?” Tim scoffed, “You?”

“Yes, me, Timbers,” Jason reiterated, “I’m a man of my word. If I’m gonna swear, I’m gonna go all the way.”

“You’re an old man of your word,” Jason heard you mumble.

“I’m only twenty-three, sweetheart,” he responded, “Dick’s the old man here.”

“Am not!” Dick protested.

“Yeah, Dick’s not,” you agreed.

“How does that make any sense?” Jason challenged.

“Because Dick doesn’t treat me like I’m a kid,” you shrugged, “He brings me up to his level, so I don’t see him as an old man. You on the other hand…”

“But you are a kid!” Jason argued back, “What are you, twelve?”

“You know for a fact that I’m fourteen!” you growled.

Jason grinned at you, and expected you to continue defending yourself. But for some reason, you just remained silent, and he saw a blush of red settling on your cheeks.

“Whatever you say, kid.”

***

The time that passed between that night and the next time he came back was shorter. He watched you train with Dick, and saw that you had already improved a lot.

He went back, and came back again, three weeks later. Your moves were faster, cleaner, more efficient.

He went back, and came back again, a week later. You landed a blow on Tim.

Soon, he realised that he was looking forward to his visits, because he wanted to see how much you progressed during the short time he was gone- and you never disappointed.

“She must be training nonstop,” he casually said to Tim one night on patrol. Bruce still didn’t allow you out with them yet, because you were still too new.

“Dude, she wakes up at four every morning to train for two hours before going to school,” Tim told him, “After she gets back, she does her homework and studies for a bit, and then trains again for another three hours before going to bed. She’s borderline crazy.”

Jason frowned to himself.

He knew that pattern. Training relentlessly to lose himself in the physical exertion, to feel like he had some sort of power every time he landed a punch, to regain some sort of control.

You were either running away from something, or towards something.

“I never asked,” he started, “But how did he end up adopting her?”

“Uh,” Tim rubbed the back of his head in hesitation, “I don’t know if I should be the one to tell you. You should ask her yourself.”

“Oh, come on,” he groaned, “You mean to tell me that you asked her yourself? Dick or Bruce didn’t tell you?”

“Of course!” Tim grumbled, “We’re friends, Jason. We hang out. We talk. You’re the only one missing from the circle.”

“Fucking whatever.”

***

He really wanted to ask, he really did.

If not out of care, then out of curiosity.

But honestly, a heart to heart talk with another human being? That wasn’t him.

Yet, he really wanted to know.

He had tried to sit down next to you when you were just watching TV alone in the living room, he had tried to knock on your door while you were blasting shitty music out loud. He had even tried to call you up and see if you wanted to meet him for dinner somewhere.

But he never got to it.

In the end, a year had passed since he first met you, and it was your big night. It was your first debut as Robin.

“Stick to at least one of us,” Jason overheard Bruce instruct you in the Cave, “Don’t go off on your own, don’t act first, and always listen to orders.”

“Yes, sir,” you rolled your eyes, then put on your domino mask.

Jason smirked at your attitude. You had come out of your shell and he learned that you were really a feisty, sassy, annoying little brat.

He thought the Robin uniform suited you. It was more modern than his was- the colors more muted- and he saw that you probably had demanded Bruce to include designs of your own. Like how your black cape sort of shimmered in the light, and how there was fucking lace at the lateral sides of your legs.

Your hair was long now.

All of you split up during patrol, and Jason had found himself panting on a roof after taking down a dozen guys who thought it was a good idea to seek revenge for the time he pissed on them from the edge of a building while they were doing a drug exchange.

It had been pretty funny, the way they were so furiously humiliated.

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a movement. He turned to look at the building from across the street, and saw that you were sitting there on the edge, legs dangling, overlooking the alley below.

He grappled to where you were and silently approached you from behind.

“I thought he told you to stick to someone,” he said.

“Jesus, fuck,” you jumped, “Stop doing that, you asshole.”

“Think of it as training for your ears,” he chuckled, and sat down next to you.

“I was with Bruce, then Dick, then Tim, then I ran away from Tim to find you,” you explained, “Looks like you found me first, though.”

“Why did you want to find me?”

“Dunno,” you shrugged, “It’s my first night. Just wanted to see everyone in action.”

“Well, you missed one big fight,” he said, “Took out a dozen guys in under five minutes.”

“Not bad,” you smirked, “Wish I could have seen it.”

“You will eventually,” he hummed, “It’s not a big deal.”

“Yes, because you obviously have done worse,” you poked.

“Is that why you were so afraid of me in the beginning?” Jason wondered, “Because you knew I killed people?”

“I was never afraid of you,” you frowned, “What gave you that idea?”

“You couldn’t stop shaking the first time I met you,” he reminded.

“Fine,” you conceded, “You looked pretty big and scary. And when Bruce said that you were Red Hood, that shook me up a bit. But it wasn’t because you killed people.”

“That’s a first,” he scoffed.

“But now I know that you’re just a massive prick who pretends to be badass to cover up the fact that you’re just a sad, fragile being- well, it’s hard to be scared.”

“Oh, we’re throwing shade now are we?” he snickered, “What about you and your obsession with training just to compensate for the fact that you feel small and weak inside with no control over your life?”

He had expected you to retort, but you just frowned and looked down towards the alley.

Shit.

Jason always had that problem where he didn’t know when to shut up, or what not say to people. Granted, most of the time he didn’t care if the other party got offended or not.

But he didn’t want to hurt you.

He was just going to open his mouth to apologize until-

“I’ve been here before,” you started, “This alley. A long time ago. My big brother- he dragged me here away from my dad so he could beat me up.”

Jason remained silent in shock.

“Not that my dad was any better,” you added, “I guess my brother was like that to me because my dad was like that to him.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that. Was he supposed to comfort you? Or tell you something funny to distract you from the sadness?

Instead, he asked, “What about your mom?”

Jason’s mom had been there, yet not fully there. But when she was, he was grateful at least, to know the warmth of a hug in a run down apartment with no heater during the winter.

“Died giving birth to me,” you explained, “Dad always blamed me for it. He’d tell me that he wished I was never born- that he wished he wore a condom when he fucked mom, that at least if she was alive, he didn’t need to fuck whores.”

“And fuck whores, he did,” you continued bitterly, “But they weren’t enough, I guess. He- he even- I-”

You never finished your sentence, but you didn’t need to. Jason was smart enough to put two and two together.

He felt his blood boil, his rage seeping in. It was like he was that Red Hood again. And for the first time since he came back to Bruce, he didn’t try to push that memory away.

He could go rogue again. Just one more time.

“Where is he- they- where are they now?” Jason managed to grit, tasting blood in his mouth.

“Dead,” you snorted, “Thanks to you.”

“What?”

That took him out of his burning anger.

“Turns out dad was working with Black Mask,” you elaborated, “He dragged my brother with him as well. It’s how he managed to afford all those prostitutes and heroin, I guess. I think they were at one of those shipments you crashed or something back then. You left twenty dead.”

Fuck, he remembered.

Black Mask was at the docks, waiting for a shipment of weapons, drugs, and girls. He remembered feeling frustrated that Black Mask slipped away before he got to him, so he took out his anger on everyone else working with Black Mask.

“Lived in the streets after that,” you continued, “Fend for myself. Cut my hair short so people would think I was a boy. I had to stay tough, you know? When Bruce found me, I was doing an odd job for one of the local gangs. Small one. Was supposed to recruit people my age. Start them young, he said. I guess Bruce had been following me for a bit. He approached me and that scared the shit out of me.”

You paused to smile sadly at the memory.

“But he just asked me for my name, and age,” you stared into space, “And he told me that I could do better than that. That I had potential. He asked me if I wanted to help people rather than drag them into dangerous stuff. And how could I say no? Especially after wishing for so long that someone would come and help me when I was with my dad and brother living in a run down apartment with a leaking roof near Crime Alley.”

You finally looked at him.

Jason was glad that he was wearing a helmet, because he wanted to hide from the stabbing guilt he felt. He didn’t want you to see him that way.

“So you’re right,” your blank white lenses pierced his own, “I train because I want to feel strong, because I’ve felt weak my whole life. I train to feel as if I have control over my own body, my own movements. Hell, even the fact that I grew my hair long gave me a sense of control.”

“I’m sorry,” Jason finally managed to croak, “I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine,” you dismissed, “Plus, you did me a favour before. I kind of owe you one.”

“Favour?”

“You got rid of my dad for me,” you stood up, “Thanks.”

And for the first time, looking up at you as you were looking down, smiling at him, he didn’t see you as a kid.

“Sure thing, kid.”

***

Jason started dropping by once every two weeks. Sometimes he would even come around twice in a week.

He had warmed up to you after you told him your story, though he was kind of frustrated that Dick, Tim, and Bruce were all right, and he was the wrong one all along because he didn’t know you.

But then, you also started warming up to him.

And that became the major issue.

Since you donned the Robin uniform, your ego had spiked up. Your confidence and arrogance came with every progress you made. A year into Robin, Jason couldn’t see a semblance of that frightened little girl with the short hair, voice shaking as she tried to insult him.

No, now you were just so fucking annoying.

And for some reason, you started to be more aware of your sexuality as your confidence grew.

At the age of 16, you had started coming onto Jason strong.

“Jason,” you pouted at him, “Why don’t you come stay at the Manor anymore?”

“Because you’re there, kid,” he joked, staring at Gotham’s skyline from the rooftop where you, him, and Batman would occasionally stop to catch a breath.

“Jasooon,” you whined, high pitched and long, “I miss spending time with you.”

Jason raised an eyebrow, because you were touching his arm, squeezing his biceps. Not that you could see his face, given the helmet he wore. He kind of missed how you were back then. All you had were insults and swear words for him, and you definitely didn’t whine.

“Don’t you have Tim to annoy?”

“He’s always busy,” you huffed, “And when he’s not busy, he’s sleepy. Tim’s boring. You’re more fun, in an assholey cocknose dickweed kind of way.”

Ah, there it was, your colorful language. He had to admit, your creativity impressed him.

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” he chuckled.

“So why don’t you come over some time and we can have some fun?” you purred seductively.

Jason was taken aback.

He wasn’t sure whether you meant it innocently, or whether you had hidden motives. He glanced at Bruce who was minding his own business, ignoring the two of you.

He didn’t think you would flirt with him in front of Bruce, so he dismissed it and blamed himself for thinking lewd things.

“My idea of fun involves a bottle of whiskey and B-Grade horror movies, kid,” he patted you on the head, “And you’re too young to drink.”

“Hmph,” you slapped his hand away, “That’s not what I was talking about, but whatever.”

You strutted away.

It wasn’t that he didn’t find you attractive, it was that he shouldn’t find you attractive. What was a 16 year old doing flirting with someone his age? Weren’t you supposed to have crushes on the quarterbacks in your school?

Hell, even if you wanted someone who knew of your nighttime activities, there always were the Teen Titans, whom you regularly joined. That Aqualad wasn't a bad kid, but for some reason he didn't like the thought of you dating just yet.

But still, you had no business with someone like Jason. Age wise, or personality wise.

*** Two weeks later, he dropped by again for movie night.

When he walked into the living room, the only person who quirked up when they saw him was you, probably because the rest had already heard him coming.

“Jay!” you squealed, and ran to him, flinging your arms around his neck in a hug.

“Hey- oomph,” he slightly stumbled. It was the first time you hugged him.

And now that you were so close, he was hyper aware of you. You were wearing shorts and a tank top- with no bra. He could smell your vanilla lotion and your chocolate spice shampoo.

He could feel your strong arms, your heavy weight, your burning heat against him.

And for the first time, he actually got turned on by you.

Fuck, he thought. He shouldn’t be thinking of you like that. As if the age difference wasn’t vast already, you were still underaged.

He awkwardly patted you on the back, in an attempt to respond to the hug. He could make out Tim and Dick snickering at him at his obvious discomfort.

“You’ve gained weight,” he gruffed, trying to break the hug because he was dangerously close to popping a boner.

As expected, you let go of him.

“Yeah, I did!” you grinned happily, “I’ve gained about five pounds of muscle mass!”

You started flexing your toned biceps comically.

“Maybe you can gain five pounds of brain mass next time, kid,” he smirked and ruffled your hair.

“I’m pretty sure that’s a medical condition, you twatwaffle arsebadger,” you shot back at him.

“Jar,” a chorus of lazy mumbles from everyone else rose.

You grumbled and walked towards a coffee table, where a clear mason jar almost filled to the brim with folded notes sat. You shoved in five dollars.

Jason took off his jacket and sat next to Dick on the long sofa. You then hopped towards him and started snuggling next to him.

Jason looked at Dick in question.

Dick merely shrugged.

Jason had a hard time concentrating on the movie that night, because you leaning your head on his chest, and playing with the denim of his jeans absentmindedly.

He wasn’t used to it.

Human contact.

And he knew how you were. You were probably the same with Dick and Tim. You just chose him that night to snuggle up to.

But then you made a comment about how hot the guy in the movie was. Jason didn’t think much of it until you leaned up to press your mouth on his ear and whispered, “Not as hot as you, though.”

That made him jump out of his seat in panic.

Everyone else looked at him suspiciously, but you were just looking at him with a knowing smirk.

“Toilet,” he mumbled, and left.

“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck,” he paced in small circles in a washroom down the hall.

He looked at his reflection only to see how red he was at his ears. He gripped the edges of the sink and took deep breaths, trying to play it cool.

Now, it was obvious that you were flirting with him. There was no denying it.

But why on God’s planet were you?

Jason groaned quietly to himself.

Whatever. He thought that you’d probably just drop it eventually.

***

Half a year later, and it didn’t.

And it got bad. Real bad.

Jason still kept visiting regularly, and every single time he did, he would get almost sexually harassed by you.

He was just sitting down in an armchair in the living room, reading a book, when you came along, and with the most arrogant, most entitled smirk, sat on his lap.

“Get off,” he grit, eyes never leaving his book. He was scared of what you were wearing this time.

“But you’re so warm,” you hummed, swinging up your legs across his lap, so that you were being cradled by him and the armchair.

“The fire’s right there,” he pointed to the fireplace, “If you need help, I can throw you in it.”

“I’d rather you throw me in bed,” you purred.

He snapped his book shut and squeezed the bridge of his nose.

“Just. Get. Off,” he growled.

It was dangerous. Your smell was intoxicating, and you were shifting and shuffling against his front. His mind started to wander, and he hadn’t even looked at you yet.

“But Jasooon,” you whined, “You’re nice and soft.”

He glared at you.

And regretted it.

You were wearing an almost see-through white loose t-shirt that exposed your shoulders. The thin fabric clung onto the curves of your breasts which were- thankfully- covered by a pink bra. You had a pair of satin booty shorts on which hardly covered your ass, which was sitting on top of his crotch.

“Actually, no let me take that back,” you pretended to wonder, “You’re pretty hard.”

And you gave him a wicked grin.

His eyes widen in panic and he stood up suddenly, causing you to fall flat on the floor.

“Fuck!” you cursed, “What's the big deal, jizzcock?”

He left the room and rushed to the toilet. He looked down, and found his penis was normal, flaccid, non-erect, unfilled.

That bitch fucking tricked me, he thought.

And he fell for it.

He went to look for Bruce who was in the cave, in front of the computers.

He took a wheeled chair and sat behind him.

“Bruce,” he started, “I need to talk to you.”

“What is it?” Bruce asked without sparing a glance at him.

That ticked him off a bit.

“It’s about your daughter.”

Jason saw Bruce pause, and then turned around to finally face him. “What about her?”

“She’s been flirting with me,” he grumbled.

Bruce raised an amused eyebrow.

“She’s sixteen, and she’s flirting with a twenty-five year old man!” he complained, “If she’s doing this to me, God knows who else she’s been doing this to!”

“And?” Bruce questioned.

“And? And?” Jason repeated, “And aren’t you worried?”

“She can take care of herself,” Bruce stated, “She’s mature. She won’t let herself be taken advantage of.

“Look, Bruce,” Jason squeezed his temples, “It’s great that you trust her and all that, but don’t you think it’s kind of fucked up? Christ, she’s sixteen!”

“And she’s well aware of that,” he said, “What would you have me do? Do you want me to talk to her?”

“Forget it,” he gave in, and left for his safehouse without saying goodbye to you.

Because that night he laid on his bed in the dark, guiltily thinking about your ass on his dick earlier. But thankfully unlike earlier, he had allowed his cock to fill up.

He knew he shouldn’t, but he thought of that time when you and him went jogging around the manor. You wore just a sports bra that showed off your cleavage, and sports shorts that rode up your ass. He couldn’t resist looking at the way your tits bounce with every step, and when you ran in front of him, his eyes darted down to check out your ass before he realised what he was doing and excused himself.

Excuse himself because he needed to stop looking, to stop thinking.

But now, he let his thoughts free.

He thought about how that one drop of sweat trickled down between the valleys of your breasts, how your muscular back glistened in the sun, how flushed your cheeks were.

He glanced down at his cock, which was already hard and leaking precum onto his stomach, twitching in need of attention.

“Don’t touch it, don’t touch it,” he muttered.

He couldn’t stop his mind from wandering, but he could try to resist from touching himself.

He owed you that at the very least.

He gulped loudly.

It really wasn’t fair. You didn’t look sixteen, or act sixteen. You were far mature even at a younger age.

But you were still sixteen.

And it wasn’t fair how you could tease him and get away with it.

“Fuck,” he groaned in frustration.

The way you swore sort of turned him on as well, oddly. He loved your use of language, and how dirty your mouth was.

How even dirtier your mouth would be if he shoved his cock in-

“No,” he whined, and he touched his cock.

He stroked it once, twice, three times, and then he came hard, long ribbons splashing onto his chest.

“I am a jizzcock,” he whispered to himself in shame, and then cleaned himself up.

***

Three months later, Jason had just come back from a mission in Mexico. Throughout his trip, he’d been bombarded with texts from you.

The topics spanned from the usual banter about training, Dick, and how you’ve been annoying Alfred with “ok, boomer” memes, to you sending him mirror selfies of yourself in fitting rooms trying out clothes that made Jason almost drool and you attempting to flirt with him.

Jason responded normally to the former, but sent short uninterested texts to the latter.

But when he came back to his safe house, he found his spare handgun on his bed- which was not where he last put it. On it, was a sticky note with a written message:

Try not to lick. R.

“What the fuck?” he muttered. R must have stood for Robin, and then suddenly Jason gulped, wondering what the fuck you had done to his gun.

He opened his phone to check his conversation with you, only to find that you had sent him a ten-minute length video.

His thumbs were shaking when he clicked play.

The video started with a closeup of your face in an awkward position, setting what Jason presumed to be your phone, on a surface with an angle you had in mind. Jason looked behind him and saw that his chair had been placed right in front of his bed, where you must have put the phone on.

“Fuck,” Jason realised. He did not like where this was going.

Or did he?

In the video, you then strolled to his bed, fingers touching his sheets. You were wearing nothing but a white flowy sundress that Jason thought made your skin look absolutely radiant. But instead of sitting on his bed, you had gone out of the frame, and then came back with the gun.

He swallowed hard.

You sat on the edge of the bed with a naughty glint in your eye. And then, you started to caress yourself sensually, squeezing your breasts as you made your way down to between your legs.

Jason realised he had started sweating and panting, getting aroused as his cock slowly started to fill out.

You spread your legs and dipped your hand beneath your dress, but Jason still couldn’t see anything because you had taken the fabric and hid what was going on under. He saw your mouth fall open and you let out a long, loud moan.

“Jason.”

Jason’s breath stuttered. His cock was aching in his jeans, begging to be touched.

Your hands were working underneath the fabric, teasing Jason with only an idea of what you were doing.

“I’m so wet, Jay,” you purred at the camera.

And then, your other hand went to take the gun.

You brought it up to your lips and flattened your tongue against the gun and licked all the way to the muzzle. Even in the low quality, he could see your saliva wetting his gun. Then, you gave him a wink and brought the gun to where your other hand was, between your legs.

Jason stopped the video then and squeezed his eyes shut, breathing hard through his nose at an attempt to calm himself down. Once he did have a semblance of control, which took almost five minutes of just trying to steady his breathing, he opened his eyes and dialled your number.

“Hey, Jay,” you picked up.

“What the fuck?!” he roared, “How the fuck did you get into my safehouse? Hell, how did you even know where it was?!”

“Oh, Jason, please,” he could hear you roll yours eyes, “You’re overreacting.”

“Over-?” he growled, “Overreacting?! You came into my house and then started to- started to-”

“Fuck myself with your gun?” you giggled.

His dick twitched.

“You need to stop this, kid,” he tried to bring his rage in, “Stop it, before you regret it.”

“Or what?” you teased, “What would you do to me, Jason? Spank me?”

He couldn’t. Jason just couldn’t with you. So he ended the call and threw his phone across the room.

He sat down at the edge of the bed and buried his face in his palms. His cock was still aching, and he was dying to touch it.

He glanced at the gun next to him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, and then unbuttoned his jeans, letting out a hiss of relief when he could finally take it out.

He started to furiously stroke his cock, just staring at the gun laying there. He wanted to smell it. He wanted to lick it. He wanted to see if he could still taste you on the metal.

“God fucking dammit,” he cursed, and then he came in pulses.

*** “What’s up, fucktrumpet?” you poked.

Jason let out a long and heavy breath from his nose, the sound becoming static as it went through the voice scrambler of his helmet.

It was a week later, and Jason had joined patrol with you, Bruce and Tim.

“Fuck off, kid,” he walked away from you, pretending to be looking out for something from the ledge of the roof.

“Oh, come on,” you whined, coming closer to him anyway. “You enjoyed it.”

“Tim,” Jason turned away to approach the younger man, “How’s things?”

“Don’t ignore me!” you ran after him.

“Leave me out of whatever this is,” Tim sighed. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Pfft, you’re always in the mood for me, Timbers,” Jason nudged his side with his elbow.

“No, she’s always in the mood for you,” he pointed to you, “For some reason.”

“Well, I’m not in the mood for her,” he grit.

“Meanie,” you pouted, “All I’ve ever been is nice to you, Jay. And what do you do? Act like an absolute thundercunt.”

He wanted to laugh at that, but he couldn’t. He had to keep up his appearances.

“Listen here, you brat,” Jason finally turned to you and poked your shoulder hard with his finger, making you wince. “You stay the fuck away from me.”

“Hey, Jay,” Tim suddenly interrupted, “You don’t need to do that, man.”

“This little bitch broke into my house and started defiling my things, Tim,” he growled, “Yes, I need to do that.”

“Defiling your things?” Tim repeated.

You let out a soft giggle.

“Forget it,” Jason threw his hands up in the air. “I’ll patrol alone.”

Jason saw the slight disappointment in your eyes when he left which made him feel a little guilty, but he ignored it.

Whatever, you were basically just asking for it.

***

Another half a year went by, and Jason found himself at the Manor for Dick’s barbecue and pool party. He was already dreading it, because he knew you would be up to no fucking good, especially when you had the excuse to wear a bikini in front of him.

He had contemplated about not going, but Roy was going to be there, and Roy was making him go.

The first person Jason looked out for was you, because he had to be on his guard. He was standing at the glass sliding door of the manor that opened to the pool to survey the crowd. He spotted you in the pool, laughing at who he assumed was Aqualad- Jason didn't bother to learn his name- wearing a dark red bikini top that fixated behind your neck.

“Jaybird! You made it!” Roy’s voice boomed all the way from the other side of the pool and came running to where Jason was standing awkwardly.

He knew many of Dick's friends, but he was never particularly close to any of them besides Roy and Kori. Now that Kori was gone, Roy was all he had left.

“Don't call me that,” he grumbled back.

“Aw, come on,” Roy groaned, “You came to a pool party in a t-shirt and jeans? Seriously?”

“I wasn't planning on swimming,” he shrugged.

Roy was sporting a horrible bright yellow swimming shorts with green palm leaves.

“Well, I was, so I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”

“Yeah,” Jason nodded and decided to head to the pool chairs and put on his sunglasses. He even brought a book to bury his nose into to avoid social interaction.

He heard a splash of water and from the corner of his eye, saw you coming towards him.

“Don’t even,” he snapped at you before you could get a word out.

“I wasn't even going to do anything, fucking dipshit,” you shot back.

Jason forced his eyes back to his book to avoid getting caught looking at how the water trickled down your glistening skin that looked oh so soft-

“What do you want then?” he huffed, turning a page.

“Well,” you began, taking a seat on the pool chair where Jason's feet were, “I was going to ask you about Roy.”

Jason glared at you, peeking from the top of his book.

“What about Roy?”

“You guys are close, right?” you hummed.

“I guess so.”

“Like, best friends?”

“What are we, twelve?” he scoffed, “Why are you asking me so many questions?”

“Well, since you're close to Roy,” you started, “I was wondering if you knew his type.”

“His type?”

“Yeah, like what kind of girls does he like?” you grinned.

“Ones who aren't underaged,” Jason growled.

“Jason I'm already seventeen,” you reminded, “Which is the legal age of consent in Gotham.”

“It doesn't matter,” he grumbled, “He's older than me, which makes him way too old for you. Forget it.”

You pouted, and then stood up. He had to redirect his gaze back to his book.

“It’s like you don't even know me, Jaybird,” you snickered, and with a flip of your wet hair which splashed droplets of water onto him, you strutted away.

He was gritting his jaw so hard he could feel his teeth ache.

Fuck, why can't you just stop?

“I need a fucking drink,” he muttered to himself and left for the kitchen where he rummaged through the refrigerator to find a stout.

He popped open the bottle cap on the marble edge of the kitchen island.

“Alfred would kill you if he saw you do that,” a voice laughed.

Jason rolled his eyes at Dick, who was sipping on a can of beer behind him. “I’ve gotten in trouble for worse.”

“God, I forget how similar you guys are,” he leaned against the counter.

“Who?”

“You know who. Her,” he pointed out.

“We’re not the same,” he denied, heading back outside.

“No, she deals with her issues better than you did,” Dick followed him, “As a matter of fact, you're still dealing.”

“Get to the point, Grayson,” he snapped.

“The point is, she’s not a kid, Jason,” Dick told him, “Why don't you give her a chance?”

Jason stopped in his tracks, standing still before exiting through the glass door. It was quieter inside the manor.

“A chance for what?” he grit.

“To prove herself to you,” Dick explained, “I've noticed how you treat her, Jay. Tim as well. It's like you're trying to push her away. Why? You don't think she's good enough?”

“Holy shit,” Jason started laughing humourlessly, “You think this is about me simply not liking her? You guys think I'm just being angsty?”

“Isn't it?” Dick cocked his head to the side.

“She's been fucking flirting with me, Grayson,” Jason said.

“Okay, I get that, but she sort of flirts with everyone,” he shrugged.

“She comes and sit on my lap, whispers stupid shit in my ear, sends me pictures of herself trying on revealing clothes, makes vulgar motions with her hands, fucking tries to seduce me,” he listed down, “Don't tell me she does that with everyone.”

“Okay, maybe not,” the older man frowned.

“Let me tell you, then,” Jason walked closer to Dick, “She broke into my fucking house, sat on my fucking bed, and started recording herself on her phone, and then sent the video to me.”

“Wait, what?” Dick sputtered, “Recording herself doing what?”

“You fucking know what,” he stated.

“Oh, Jesus,” Dick ran a finger through his hair, “Wow, she's ballsy.”

“That's your reaction?” Jason scoffed, “She's ballsy?”

“I mean-”

“She's sexually harassing me, Grayson!” he argued.

“But,” Dick began, “What did you really think about it? I mean, really?”

“What do you mean?” he hissed.

“Did you watch it?” Dick persisted. “The video?”

“What- I- no, I just-” Jason spluttered, caught off guard.

“You can't lie to me, Jason,” Dick gave him a mischievous smile, “You like her, too. That's why you're pushing her away. Because you don't think you're good enough for her.”

Fuck Dick and his fucking superior detective skills.

“She's too young for me,” Jason simply stated.

“Well, apparently not too young for Roy,” Dick smirked.

“What-” Jason turned around and looked outside.

You were in the pool, standing in the corner. You had a hand on Roy’s chest, looking up at him and laughing. He had a hand on your waist, and was whispering something into your ear.

Jason went into a fit of rage when he saw Roy touching you.

“Mother fucker,” Jason swore, and without thinking, went straight to where you were. He stood there at the edge of the pool, arms crossed, and looking down at the two of you who were both unaware of his presence.

“Roy,” Jason growled.

Roy jumped and looked at Jason in panic, and as if you electrocuted him, immediately jumped away from your touch.

“H-hey, Jaybird,” he awkwardly laughed, “I was just- I was- uh- I was telling her about what a great friend you were.”

“Oh, really?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah!” he nodded vigorously, “Jason here is super good with his aim as well. Could even rival mine.”

Jason ignored Roy, and glared at you, who was looking up at him with obviously fake innocent eyes.

“Out,” he commanded.

“What?”

“I said out,” he repeated. “Out of the pool. I need to talk to you.”

“Oh, come on, Jason,” you started to whine, but then stopped when you saw his expression.

You climbed out of the pool, and again, Jason had to avert his eyes. Without sparing a glance at you, he gripped you by the arm and pulled you to go inside.

“Ow! Jason, let go, fucking cocksucker!” you cried.

He snatched a towel from Tim’s grip as he walked, ignoring Tim’s protests and stares from others, and then threw it on top of your head.

“Ugh- Jason!” you complained. He continued to lead you inside the manor, up the stairs, and to his old room.

He slammed the door shut behind him.

“What's the big deal, you shitpouch?! Who do you fucking think you are? Fucking cumwipe, pisswizard, cuntpuddle...”

That wasn't the end of your swearing. You went on for another good minute of words that could make Batman blush, before stopping.

You were fuming. Your face red, your expression twisted into a scowl, water dripping all over the wooden floors, the fluffy towel around your neck that you hadn't used.

God, you were so hot when you were angry.

“You done?” he deadpanned. He sensed that you were going to go into another stream of name calling, so he cut you off.

“I told you to forget Roy,” he grit.

“And since when have I ever done what you told me to do?” you shot at him

You had a point.

“Look, kid-”

“I'm not a fucking kid, Jason!” you yelled at him for the first time, “I haven't been a kid since my dad- since I was twelve!”

Jason suddenly felt pain in his chest.

“I know you've been through shit,” Jason acknowledged, “What happened with your dad and your brother- I’m fucking glad I killed them. And even if I hadn’t back then, I would have broken every single rule and hunt them down and make them suffer before ending their lives after finding out what they did to you. Hell, before you told me that they were dead, I was already ready to turn every single rock to find them.”

Your expression softened at that.

“And I know you had to grow up fast,” he continued, “All of us who lived there did. But you're out of that now. You don't have to fucking try so hard to act older than you are anymore.”

Your eyes shone with anger once more.

“That's the thing you never got, Jason,” you spat, “I'm not trying. I never did. This is who I am.”

You were looking at him with such fierce intensity that Jason almost forgot how to breathe.

Because you were right. He had gone through the same process where he was made to grow up fast, where he couldn’t afford to act like a kid.

He looked at you, trying not to show much emotion on his face.

Somehow in the heat of the argument and you yelling cusses at him, the two of you had gotten closer to each other, and Jason could even see the tears brimming in your eyes that were threatening to spill.

He immediately felt like a piece of shit, like every word you called him. He never wanted to hurt you.

“Whatever,” Jason huffed, looking away to avoid your glare, “Just stay away from Roy.”

“Why, you two dating or something?” you smirked.

He simply glared at you. You obviously had recovered from your anger and was now back to your usual snarky self.

“Or,” you began, “You were jealous.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Jason objected, “Why would I be jealous?”

“Because,” you drawled, walking closer to him, “You like me.”

Jason had backed up each time you walked to him, and before he knew it his back was hitting the door.

Fuck, he hated how much you affected him. You had him backed up against the fucking door, for fuck’s sake.

To get a semblance of power back, he stared at you straight in the eye, unblinking, and leaned closer to you.

“You wish,” he said coldly.

He noticed that your breath stuttered, and a blush creeped up your cheeks.

Then, he leaned back and smirked.

“Oh, no you don't,” you shook your head, “You think you can win this game, Todd?”

“Unlike you, I'm not playing a game.”

“But yes you are, Jay,” you placed your palms flat on his chest, “You’ve been playing hard to get with me.”

“Playing hard to get is only used when the other person actually wants you,” he scoffed.

He didn't know why, but he was sweating. His respiratory rate had gone up, and shit.

Shit.

He could feel his dick getting filled up.

Maybe it was how close you were to him, maybe it was the fact that you were half naked in front of him with all the privacy he could have asked for.

Maybe it was the fact that it was you who had him in a corner instead of the other way round.

“I'm not a fucking idiot, Jay. Batman trained me, too. I've seen how you look at me and I’ve seen how you tried not to.”

Fuck.

“Your pupils dilate, your breathing gets faster, you start to sweat,” you went on, “And then suddenly you excuse yourself. You run away.”

Your hands went up to his shoulders, and your body was now against his, getting his clothes wet. He could smell the chlorine on you when you leaned into his ear and whispered.

“You fucking coward,” you breathed.

Jason's breath hitched and he had to squeeze his eyes shut. He pressed his palms against the door behind him to restrain himself from touching you, grabbing you, squeezing you, slapping you.

Jason knew he was fully hard now, because it was getting painful.

Suddenly, the pressure and heat of your body against his own disappeared. He opened his eyes.

But sucked in a breath when he saw that you were on your knees in front of him, eye level to his crotch, the tent in his pants mere inches away from your lips.

“What the fuck are you- mmpf,” he threw his head back, hitting the door.

You had gripped his shaft hard, sending a pulse of pleasure through his body.

No. Jason had to stop this. He couldn't go through with this. He shouldn't.

“You want me to suck your cock, Jay?” You purred.

Jason swallowed hard, just trying his best to restrain himself.

He remained silent for a beat. And then-

“Do whatever you want,” he managed to choke out.

You showed him a winning grin, and then unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, pulling down his jeans.

You started to mouth his length through the fabric of his boxers, getting it translucent with your spit. He had never been so horny in his entire life.

As much as Jason’s head was screaming at him, telling him to stop you, telling him how inappropriate it was, he didn’t have the strength to voice it out.

He wanted to tell you to stop teasing him, to hurry up and put your mouth around his cock already, but again, it was like he had lost his voice.

He was utterly conflicted, so he opt to just stay silent.

You hooked your fingers in the waistband of his briefs and then pulled it down, revealing his cock to you. He hissed slightly at the relief.

Jason wanted to remember your expression the minute you saw his cock forever, he wanted to burn it in his brain and immortalize it. Your eyes had gone rounder, your mouth popped open with a gasp, and your excitement grew.

“It’s everything that I’ve dreamed about and more,” you fluttered your eyes dramatically before gripping his shaft and licking one long, steady stripe from the base to his tip.

Jason bit his lip to muffle his groan.

You licked him again, and again, and then started to swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, tracing your tongue around the sulcus underneath his head.

Fuck, you were so fucking good at teasing him, and making him squirm.

He looked down at you, and you were looking up through your long lashes, eyes almost innocent. And then, you took him in his mouth, going all the way down.

“Fuck,” Jason gasped.

You immediately built a rhythm, the most perfect rhythm that he liked. It was suspicious how you knew his preference, and at the back of his head he made a mental reminder to check his room for hidden cameras.

You provided him with the right amount of tongue, the right amount of suction, the right amount of teeth gently grazing him from time to time that he swore could have drove him insane.

Your mouth was soft, and warm, and wet, and before he knew it, he was ready to fucking explode.

As if you were familiar with his expressions, you picked up the pace and started sucking even harder each time you bobbed your head. Jason felt his balls tighten, the heat spreading to his toes and making them tingle.

“Fuck- I’m gonna- I’m gonna-” he rasped.

And then he released with sudden explosion into your mouth, going through a sensory overdrive because as he was releasing, he could still feel you sucking him dry and swallowing.

When he was done, you released his cock with a pop and a grin.

Jason had to catch his breath for a while, because it was the best head he had ever received in his entire life, and he had managed to keep his hands off you the entire time.

“You made me jealous on purpose,” he panted.

“Duh,” you stood up after politely zipping him back up, putting your hands on your waist so fucking proudly, like a power stance.

“Where the hell did you learn how to suck cock that good?” he interrogated.

“You’ve lived in Titans Tower before,” you winked, “You should know.”

He didn’t like that. He didn’t like that statement and implication one bit.

“This can’t,” he started, “We can’t-”

“This can’t happen again?” you finished for him, rolling your eyes. “Typical. Just get over yourself already, Jason. It gets tiring.”

“I’m no good for you,” he avoided your eyes.

“You say that right after coming into my mouth,” you scoffed, “Sure.”

He clenched his jaw. You were right. He was trash for doing that to you, defiling you like that.

Jason must have let his emotions leak, because you suddenly added, “What I meant was, we’ve already crossed that line. We don’t have to go back to how it was before. I like you, Jason. And I know you like me, too.”

“That doesn’t matter,” he muttered, “This was a mistake. We can’t do this again. I’m sorry. Just stay away from me.”

He left.

***

He had avoided you for a long time after that.

Months went by, and he ignored your texts and your calls. Even the knockings outside his door. He had made sure to upgrade his security, with both Tim and Roy’s help so you couldn’t break in again.

When he went on patrols with everyone else, he made sure you couldn’t catch him alone, so he arrived at the very latest, and left at the very soonest, never exchanging more than a few words with you.

And every time, it killed him. He saw the hurt flash in your eyes every time he left quickly, he noticed that you had texted him less and less as the months went on, and eventually came to a complete stop.

You had even stopped calling him those weird, creative swear names that he loved so much.

Jason finally won. He had managed to get you to give up on him.

But hell did it make him feel like absolute shit.

Eight months had passed by, and he was getting ready for the event he had absolutely been dreading. It was your 18th birthday party that Bruce had used as an excuse to host a charity gala at the manor.

Jason thought it was a dick move for him to take advantage of your birthday for the sake of his own gain, but apparently you had been more than supportive over it, understanding Bruce’s position as one of Gotham’s elite.

He didn’t want to go. He couldn’t bear to face you again where you could pull him somewhere private to talk to him. But Dick and Tim had convinced him.

It was your birthday after all.

When he arrived, everyone was staring at him.

Well, he was wearing just a leather jacket over a black shirt and a pair of dark denim jeans after all.

“You couldn’t have dressed for the occasion, Jason?” he heard Tim approach him from behind.

Tim was sporting a suit, just like everyone else.

“Couldn’t be bothered,” he shrugged, “What’s the agenda?”

“Mingling, dinner, speeches, more mingling,” Tim listed down, “Typical charity ball. The others are at the tents. We should get going.”

“I’m the dead son, remember?” he pointed out, “I don’t need to sit with you guys.”

“We’ll introduce you as Dick’s boyfriend or something, come on,” Tim gestured.

“Oh, the media would love that,” Jason muttered under his breath and went along.

The banquet area was set outside in the backyard of the Manor, where tents with clear plastic canopies were propped up, decorated with fairy lights. Since it was spring, the weather was cool enough for suits and warm enough for strapless dresses.

The main tent had a stage where a band was playing classical music- typical tunes you would hear at any other fucking gala.

Each table seated ten, and Tim had brought Jason to a table closest to the stage where he saw Dick, Bruce, and you were already seated with four others. He recognized the Mayor, the Commissioner, Lucius Fox, and a middle aged woman with greying hair he didn’t recognize with who Jason presumed was her husband.

Jason avoided looking at you, but he knew that you were staring right at him. Tim took a seat, and Jason cursed softly when he realised that the only other seat available was in between you and Dick.

Looking straight ahead, he calmly sat down. From the corner of his eye and from a portion of what he could make out, he saw that you were wearing a midnight blue dress, and a silver bracelet around your wrist which you rested on the table.

Bruce had started to converse with the guests, and Dick and Tim were having a banter amongst themselves.

“Hey,” he heard your voice.

“Happy birthday,” he mumbled.

“Thanks,” you replied.

And that was that. The two of you remained silent, with Jason occasionally checking his phone and still avoiding looking at you.

“It’s time for our speech,” Jason heard Bruce whisper to you.

He heard you get up and shuffled to the stage. He was hardly paying attention during Bruce’s welcome speech.

“...and then, the woman of the hour, my lovely daughter,” Bruce introduced you. The audience broke out in applause. Jason still hadn’t turned your way.

“Hello, everyone,” he heard your uncharacteristically nervous and shy voice over the sound system. He took a sip of wine. “T-thank coming for you all- uh- I mean-”

The audience laughed, but not in mockery. Jason couldn’t help but look at you now.

He accidentally inhaled his wine, and ended up trying to cover his coughing fits.

Up on stage, where the spotlight was on you, he had noticed your midnight blue dress had small sparkling stars on them, making you seem like you were wearing the clear night sky. Your hair was done in a simple graceful updo, which exposed your neck that he noticed was flushed, a blush creeping up to your cheeks at your own embarrassment.

Your eyes were wide in panic, and you kept on playing with your thumbs subconsciously.

His breath stuttered, because he thought you were the most beautiful creature he had ever laid his eyes on.

You were usually so snarky, so full of confidence, and wit with a mouth that could make a sailor blush- but there you were spluttering all over the microphone, a blushing mess. And hell, did that make Jason’s chest tighten in yearning for you.

“I’m sorry, I’m not used to crowds like my father is,” you tried to laugh it off, “Here, let’s try again.”

Despite your fumbles, you had a certain charm on stage that made everyone just like you.

“Thank you all for coming to my eighteenth birthday party,” you started, “I must admit, at first I wanted my party to be small and intimate. But I realised that this celebration could be used for something good instead.”

Another round of claps.

“I come from a very… humbling area in Gotham. I’m sure we’re all familiar with Crime Alley,” you stated, confidence growing as you got used to being on stage, “It was hard, living as a child in the streets. But I got lucky. Bruce Wayne found me.”

“Being the daughter of Bruce Wayne has taught me a lot about understanding and acknowledging my own privilege and using it to help others. Growing up there, myself and many other children were faced with the harsh reality of poverty and abandonment. Therefore, I would like to announce that I have started a foundation called Wayne’s Foundation for Children of Hope, where all proceeds will go to the development of Crime Alley.”

You paused and smiled at the flashing cameras of the media and waited for the applause to die down.

“Our first initiative is to build a home for lost children aged eighteen and under, to provide shelter, basic healthcare, food, and education. The primary goal of these shelters is to help kids find a place where they belong, and to help set them back on the right track. These kids also have the option to maintain anonymity for cases that involve abusive environments.”

Jason was looking at you in awe. You were standing proudly at the podium, graceful in your posture, a fierce intensity in your eyes- all previous nervousness completely gone.

Next to him, Dick leaned in and whispered, “It was all her idea, you know. Every single plan for this foundation, even the future plans she hadn’t mentioned. All hers.”

Jason remained silent and watched as you continued your speech.

“But the truth is,” you smiled sadly, “It’s still not enough. The situation in a lot of areas in Gotham is painfully swept under the rug. But hopefully with this, people like us can make things a little better for them. If you’d like to donate to the foundation, it would mean a lot to me, and to the other kids who had to grow up too fast.”

You made eye contact with Jason at that last statement, causing his heart to suddenly drum faster.

The crowd broke in a loud applause and you thanked them graciously, waving as you stepped down from the podium to take your seat.

This time, Jason didn’t take his eyes off you.

“That was great!” Tim gave you a thumbs up, “You did great!”

“Well done,” Dick grinned.

Jason took your hand and gave it a little squeeze, just smiling at you in silence. You looked at him with obvious shock, and then grinned back.

“Beautiful, Ms. Wayne,” the Mayor sitting across from you beamed, “You’ve taken after your father’s charms.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mayor,” you nodded, “But I’d like to think that my charms are my own.”

Jason had to bite back a laugh when he saw the man turn red.

He was somehow more relaxed now, even sparing occasional glances at you as you conversed with others. The dance floor was now open, and the guests had left their seats to mingle with others. The MC also announced that the bar was open.

“That’s my cue,” Jason winked at you, and then went straight to the bar to get himself something strong. From there, he just leaned back and watched how the disgustingly rich people made themselves feel better about themselves by donating the occasional couple of million dollars. Soon enough, he got sick of the pearls and diamond earrings, the solid gold watches.

He checked his own battered and scratched Swiss Army watch he had lifted from a drug lord many years ago. He should be going back soon. It wasn’t like he was needed there anyway. He had already wished you and made peace.

“What do you think?” he heard your voice approach him.

He turned and saw you come up next to him.

“Too fancy for my taste,” he started, “Looks like it took you a whole hour just to get into the damn thing. And those shoes? Looks like the crowbar was less painful than walking around in that.”

It took you a couple of seconds before realising that he was talking about your outfit.

“I meant the foundation, you fucknugget,” you hissed.

“Be careful there, sweetheart,” he raised an eyebrow, “Don’t want these people hearing you speak like that. You’ll lose your charm.”

“I don’t know how Bruce does it,” you shook your head, “It’s so exhausting.”

Jason hummed back at you as a comfortable silence fell. The two of you leaning back against the bar and just watching the crowd.

“I think it’s a great idea,” he finally said.

“Thanks,” you pursed your lips, “I kept on thinking of you, you know? When we were coming up with the plans. Was wondering what you would think of it.”

“You’re making it sound like I’m the only one from there.”

“Well, you’re the only one who would understand,” you explained, “The others, of course they empathized. But they wouldn’t understand. Not like how you and I do.”

And Jason realised that it was that factor that probably drew you close to him when you first came to them, the fact that Jason understood at more than just a superficial level how shit your life was before coming to the manor. It was a painful past that only the two of you shared, and only the two of you could talk about.

Silence fell again.

“I’m sorry,” you suddenly brought up.

“For what?” he frowned.

“For making you uncomfortable for so long,” you whispered, “I don’t know why I did it. I guess I liked your reactions. And I guess I just wanted your attention. And during that pool party- I- I thought-”

Jason waited for you to finish your sentence.

“Nevermind,” you looked away, “Forget it. I just wanted to say sorry. I crossed the line. After you stopped talking to me, I just. I don’t want that. So I’ll stop, okay? You don’t have to avoid me anymore.”

He turned around to face you.

“I stopped talking to you not because I was mad at you,” he told you, “I stopped talking to you because I was mad at myself.”

You faced him with curious eyes.

“I thought- well- fuck,” it was Jason’s turn to splutter. He took a deep breath and started again. “I thought that it was a real shit move for me to do what I did to you.”

“Wait, what?” you questioned, “What you did to me?”

“Yeah,” he grumbled, “You know. That.”

“Jason, I was the one who practically jumped you,” you scoffed, “I basically forced it on you. Why are you blaming yourself?”

“Force me? Pfftsh, you couldn’t force me to do anything.”

“Jason.”

“I liked it, okay?” he threw his arms up, “I didn’t stop you because I liked it, and I shouldn’t have liked it. I was taking advantage of you. It was wrong of me to do so.”

“God, you’re so fucking stupid,” you laughed, “I’ve been pining over you since Bruce told me you were… You know who.”

You lowered your voice.

“Want to talk inside?” he offered.

“Good idea,” you agreed.

The two of you made your way past the garden and into the manor.

“Is it okay for the birthday girl to disappear from her own party?” he smirked when he closed the door to Bruce’s study, which was the nearest room that offered privacy.

“Oh, please,” you waved your hand and sat on Bruce’s desk, “The whole party was never about me. I’m just another excuse for those cuntflaps to show off their new diamonds.”

He chuckled. “Anyway, you were saying? Something about Bruce telling me I was Red Hood?”

“Yeah,” you bit your lip in nervousness, “I’ve had a crush on you since then.”

“Really?”

Jason knew that you obviously had a crush on him, especially because of the neverending teasing and seductions, but he didn’t know it stemmed from that long ago.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I remember thinking to myself, like wow. This is the guy who killed them. And you know what? You looked exactly like how I thought you would.”

“What? How so?”

“Huge,” you started, “Scars everywhere. Grouchy as hell.”

“I’m not as grouchy as Bruce,” he defended himself.

“Still,” you chuckled, “You looked exactly like how I imagined my hero to look.”

“Super hot, sexy, and good looking?” he joked.

He had expected you to roll your eyes and throw an insult at him, but you just tightened your lips and looked away.

“Look, k- sweetheart,” he stopped himself from calling you a kid. From what he saw on the stage earlier, you were already so much better than he was. “I’m going to be honest, alright? And you better damn well appreciate it, because I’m never honest.”

You giggled softly. He walked to stand in front of you at the desk.

“I think you’re great,” he stated, “And I think you’re beautiful, and sexy. And…”

He hesitated, thinking of whether or not to continue.

Fuck it. He might as well.

“And I like you,” he forced out, “More than you know. Fuck, I like you. I like you so much it fucking hurts sometimes.”

You looked up at him with hopeful, glistening eyes.

“But I’m no good for you,” he repeated what he said all those months ago, “I can never do what you just did. Start a fucking charity on your birthday and announce it to the world as if it was nothing. Fuck, I don’t think I should even be seen walking around next to you when you look like that. I’m a fucking mess, sweetie. You don’t want that.”

He saw as you digest what he had just said. Then, you looked up at him and asked, “What do you think I want?”

“What do I think?” he repeated.

You nodded.

“I think you should be with someone who’s closer to your age, for one,” he rolled his eyes, “And someone who doesn’t have scars all over their face. Someone who isn’t grouchy. Someone charming who can stand next to you on stage wearing a proper suit and tie.”

“You’re right,” you nodded, “I should be with someone like that.”

Jason felt a pang in his chest at your agreement.

“But I don’t want to be with someone like that,” you continued, “I want to be with someone who was ready to hunt down and hurt the people who terrorized me for years. I want to be with someone whose face is littered with scars as proof that they went through just as much shit as I did and survived.”

You hopped from the desk and stood up straight, stretching your hand up to cup Jason’s face. He leaned into the warmth of your caress, his breath hitching at the close contact. His hands automatically went to rest on your waist, still respectfully high.

“I want you, Jason,” you whispered, pulling him down to your lips, “I want someone who can handle my bites.”

To demonstrate, you sucked in his lower lip, eliciting a low moan from him.

And then you bit down hard.

He gasped at the stinging pain, and then sighed when you massaged his lip with yours. Heat suddenly spread throughout his body, particularly at his member which was growing hard fast. He could smell the wine on your breath that you must have snuck a few sips from, the vanilla lotion you always wore, and a new particularly enticing perfume that you must have gotten for the occasion.

“I want someone who can call me a little bitch straight to my face,” Jason felt you grin against his lips.

The two of you were kissing now, harsh and forceful, as if deprived of touch. Fuck, he loved how you were nipping at his lips and his tongue, tugging his hair lightly.

Both of you gasped for air, and just stood there foreheads against each other, his erection pressed against your stomach, your hands around his neck.

“I want someone who is resourceful enough to enhance his home security to make sure I don’t break in and fuck myself with his weapons again,” you chuckled.

“Was it…” he started, “Was it loaded?”

“You bet it was,” you smiled.

“Fuck,” he swore and then crashed his lips against yours again. He lifted you up to sit on the desk, and then stood in between your open thighs. At the slightly elevated level, he could properly grind his erection against your pussy, still covered by your dress.

“You liked that?” you giggled, “I thought you weren’t into that. I got a bit worried.”

“Hell yeah, I liked that,” he rasped, “What kind of sane man wouldn’t?”

He started to nibble on the skin on your neck, sucking and biting and licking

“I’m pretty sure not everyone is into the thought of fucking a loaded gun into a pussy,” you laughed, “Which proves my point. You and me? We’re perfect, Jay- fuck, don’t leave any marks, dumbass.”

“Point taken, baby.”

“Mmm, call me that again,” you moaned.

He stopped nibbling on your neck, brought his eyes to yours, and with a defiant smirk, he said, “No.”

It was like Jason saw the switch in you flick on, because you suddenly pushed him away aggressively. He stumbled, not expecting it.

“Oh, you think you’re in control, Todd?” you purred, twisting your fists in his leather jacket. You were shorter than him, and your frame much smaller. But Jason just loved the authority that radiated from you.

“You think you’re the one who has power over me?” you drawled, pulling him to the side where Bruce had set up a leather sofa and a coffee table.

“When all this while, I’m the one who had you wrapped around my finger?” you snarled, and then pushed him down on the sofa.

Before Jason could even register what was happening, you were already on top of him, straddling him. He looked up at you, the pressure of your weight on his crotch making him pant with want.

“So are you going to call me baby again?” you asked sweetly, tugging at his jacket to remove it.

“Maybe in due time,” he gasped when you bit the flesh that connected his neck and shoulder hard.

Fuck, he was throbbing in his pants.

You took off his shirt and ran your hand down his body. Jason smirked when he saw you bite your lip as you took in his figure.

He still had a bit of fight left in him, and he wasn’t going to beg.

Yet.

“Why must you be so stubborn, Todd?” you breathed, teeth catching at his earlobe and biting. You were rocking your hips against his erection, and he swore that if you didn’t take it out, he was going to rip a hole in his pants with it.

“H-hey, you’ve always been the pushy one,” he stuttered.

“That’s because I like to get what I want,” you pinched his nipples hard.

“Fuck!” he yelped at the sudden pain, and then glared at you as you just grinned cheekily. “I don’t know why I never took you for a sadist before this.”

“Because you’re an idiot, Jay,” you teased, “All I did was torture you.”

“Yes, you did,” he rested his hands on your hips, motioning for you to grind on him harder, “You made me so fucking hard on purpose, and then I had to go back and jerk off to you, which made it worse because I felt so fucking guilty after.”

“That was your own fault,” you frowned. You were finally, finally unbuckling his belt. “You saw me as a kid when I wasn’t.”

“You were still underaged, you brat,” he laughed, “It didn’t matter if you were wise beyond your years- ah, fuck yeah.”

You had finally unzipped him, releasing him from the constraints of his denim.

“Take everything off for me, Jay,” you demanded, sitting up on your knees to give him room to do so.

He listened to you happily, glad to be rid of his clothes. His cock slapped against his lower abdomen, already leaking so much precum.

“Why am I the only one naked?” he voiced out his displeasure.

“Because it took me twenty minutes to get into this dress, and I’m not undressing for anyone before the night is over,” you announced.

“But, baby,” he pouted, rejoicing at how he made your breath hitch, and rested his chin between your breasts, “I want to see your tits.”

You frowned and bit your lip as you looked down at him, considering his plea. He made a mental reminder that you must like dirty talk.

“Then make sure you don’t go home so early tonight,” you managed to choke out.

Jason thought that you also must have liked to be the submissive one, as well.

You leaned into him and kissed him again, this time less rough. He moaned into your mouth, slipping his tongue in as he grabbed your hips and tried to rub his cock against your pussy, underneath your dress. He gasped when he felt that you were already bare, and leaking.

“What happened to your- your panties?” he rasped.

“Long gone,” you winked.

“Fuck, you fucking nymph,” he chuckled, and then groaned when you started to slide the head of his cock between your wet lips.

“Jason, I’ve wanted your cock so bad,” you muttered into his ear as you rubbed your slick all over his length, “You’ve no idea how many times I’ve fucked myself with- with whatever I could find, pretending it was you.”

“Fuck, baby,” he whined, throwing his head back against the couch. Your dirty mouth was doing so many things to him, he was worried that he was going to come right there and then.

“After that time I sucked you off?” you continued, “All I wanted was to choke on it, Jay. I just want your dick in my throat.”

You lifted your hips and sank down onto him. Both of you groaned lowly in pleasure. Fuck, you were so tight, and warm, and wet, and oh so soft.

“Ah! Jason!” you cried out when he bottomed out, “Fuck, I’m going to feel you for fucking days.”

“Shit, baby,” he choked, “Baby, please. Please, move.”

“You want me to move?” you teased.

“Yes,” he whispered.

“How would you like me to move, Jay?” you smiled.

“Any- I don’t care-”

“Nice, and slow like this?” you lifted your hips up, and Jason could feel the torturously slow drag of your walls against his shaft, even as you sanked back down you were slow.

“Hnng- fuck-” Jason mewled, lost for words. “Please.”

It was all he could say.

“Or hard and fast like this?” you slammed your hips down, and started bouncing on his cock at a brutal pace that knocked his breath out.

“Fuck!” he yelled, “Fuck, baby, fuck!”

You weren’t being any softer as well. Through tear-filled hazy eyes, Jason saw your eyes fluttered close in pleasure, your mouth falling open as you cried out wanton moans, and gasped, and groaned for him.

“Jason! Fuck, Jay, fuck!”

He couldn’t take it anymore.

He gripped your hips hard, and then started to fuck himself up into you, matching your pace, making you fucking scream.

He could feel your walls tighten around his cock, the same time you started whining, “Jason, Jason, I’m gonna- I’m gonna-”

“Me too, sweetheart, me too,” he gasped.

“Come inside me, Jason, please!” you sobbed.

“But-”

“Just- just- please, please, please,” you squeezed your eyes shut and threw your head back.

Jason felt your pussy clench tight onto him, triggering his own orgasm. He released inside you while still fucking you hard, trying to prolong both of your highs.

Soon, he was oversensitive, the feeling of your walls almost painful. You calmed down, still panting above him, and he just couldn’t help but stare at you in amazement.

“Holy shit,” you giggled above him, “Holy shit, that was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

“Uh- I,” he panicked, “I came inside of you, fuck!”

“I’m on the pill, don’t worry,” you smiled, “Fuck, I just. I just wanted to walk around after this with my panties soaked in your cum.”

“How the fuck are you eighteen and already so fucking kinky,” he groaned.

You only laughed and slowly lifted yourself off of him. He hissed at the movement, feeling hypersensitive at every touch.

You went to look for your panties, which Jason noticed were a lacy black, and then put them on under your dress.

He was still sprawled out on the sofa naked, sweaty, and well spent.

“I also didn’t want any of your spunk to get on my dress,” you told him.

“S’pretty dress,” he mumbled back to you.

“You should get dressed, Jay,” you walked towards him, hands on your hips.

“Do I need to get back out there?” he complained, “Can’t I just wait in your room?”

“If you get dressed and attend the party, I’ll let you fuck me with one of your guns,” you promised.

“Really?” his eyes widen, and then he jumped back up to put on his clothes.

“I gotta tell you something, though,” you started.

“What is it?” he hummed, tucking his black shirt into his jeans.

“The safety was on,” you said, “On the gun, I mean. It was loaded, but the safety was on.”

“Oh, baby,” he looked at you seriously, “If you told me the safety was off, I would have shot you myself for being so stupid.”

You giggled.

He gave you his arm. “Shall we?”

“Yes, we shall,” you took it. “By the way.”

“What?”

“Are you going to switch back to a more lax security?”

“And have you breaking in again? You wish, kid.”

[yourmcu]

Scarlett and Y/N being besties for 7 minutes straight

Pairing: Scarlett Johansson x reader (younger!fem & platonic)

Summary:

You find a video complication that sums up your friendship with Scarlett Johansson.

A/n: this is what happens when you binge watch a lot of avengers cast interviews and I wrote this in a day btw (more notes at the end!)

Word count: 2,509

Warnings: none other than fluff !

You let out a short cackle when you came across the video that immediately sparked up your interest. The thumbnail was your best friend, Scarlett Johansson and yourself hugging each other affectionately with assorted iPhone heart emojis, during what seemed to be an interview - you can’t remember since you’ve done so many with her.

‘Scarlett Johansson and Y/N L/N being besties for 7 minutes straight’.

How can you not?

You cast your phone to the TV. It started with a short intro of the video title in comic sans font and Wii background music as all fan-made compilations should.

“Speaking of Y/N, you already knew each other before working on the Avengers movie, right?” The first clip was of Scarlett’s interview with Ellen a few years back.

She opened her mouth to speak but went to look behind her first which made Ellen and the audience laugh. “Sorry, it’s just a precaution. I didn’t like what happened the last time you mentioned someone.” That being Chris Evans, the man scared her from behind the last time she was on the show.

“Don’t worry, no one’s popping out today,” the talk show host reassured with a smile.

“Good - uh anyway, yeah,” Scarlett chuckled. “Y/N and I did know each other like way before Avengers. She’s one of my closest friends actually.”

“Oh really? Can you tell us all about it, how did you two meet?”

“Um, yeah. It was at dinner, I was working with her dad on a movie when I was young - Y/N’s father is this incredible director yeah you all probably know - and... uh, yeah. I met her there,” a picture appeared on the monitor of both of you at the premiere of your first movie together. “I was around fifteen at that time and she was probably around five or six.” She pointed out.

The camera slightly moved to the left where you could be seen creeping in sight behind the actress. Ellen and the audience were doing a great job not to ruin the surprise.

“That is amazing. So you met Y/N way before you met Chris - Chris Evans?”

Just to be sure again she looked over her shoulder at the mention of her goofy co-star but you were already hidden behind her chair and ducked, erupting more laughter from the audience at her antics. “I met Chris shortly but yeah, I’m sort of like a family friend to Y/N, you could say.”

They talked more on how you’ve helped her a bit to get in character for Natasha Romanoff in Iron Man 2 since you read a lot of comics, how the first person you called was Scarlett when you got your first Marvel role and how she became your on-set big sister on your first days working with the Avengers cast.

“I remember her being terrified of the thought of being in the same room as Robert and Mark,” she paused to laugh. “As if she wasn’t a big actor as they are-”

You jumped up from behind the seat, putting your hands abruptly on her shoulders and yelling, “SCARLETT!”

She yelped, covering her mouth then her whole face as the whole studio went wild. You hopped and landed smoothly on the arm of her chair to hug her tightly.

“Who’s terrified now?!”

-

“This is called Avengers: Phone-A-Friend,” Joe Russo announced. Scarlett, Paul and Chris Hemsworth were competing in a game at a UK fan event.  “Let’s see who can get a fellow Avenger on the phone quickest. Get your phones out, fastest one wins!”

It cut to the part after Paul and Scarlett decided to call each other. She was quickly scrolling through her phone, after Downey didn’t answer her call, she managed to get to her latest text messages which was you, so she tried to call you.

Grabbing a microphone as soon as she saw the call connect, you spoke the same time Robert did on Chris’ phone.

“Chris, is that you my dear?”

“Hey Scar, I was kinda sleeping. What’s up?”

The whole room went quiet, The Russos gaped and grinned, didn’t really expect to get two on the line. Paul was still figuring out what the heck was going on.

“Y/N?”

The room started to go loud again but not that much, Chris was holding in a fit of laughter and stuck both his and Scarlett’s phones so you could continue the conversation.

“Oh hey Mr. Robert,” you sometimes called your co-stars with ‘mister’ or ‘miss’ before their first names just to tease. “What’s going on?”

“Well I’m in my living room, and you happen to catch me at a nice time...” he started.

“You’re not with Scarlett right now?”

“No,” Robert’s voice was filled with confusion and wonder. “Isn’t she at a fan event with-”

He was interrupted by loud cheers of the fans. “Wait you really had no clue we were at the fan event?” Scarlett directly asked you as Chris and Robert laughed.

“Well, everyone was doing a great job of being quiet and I’m still half asleep.” That earned even more laughter from the fans.

-

You and Scarlett tossing jellybeans in the air and trying to catch them with your mouths in the background after playing a game with some of your other co-stars at a talk show.

The original clip was cropped to focus on the both of you so the quality was slightly bad. Not bad enough to miss how one bean almost entered your eye and Scarlett covering her mouth to suppress her laughter though.

-

Scarlett was in the middle of a red - or purple carpet interview at the Infinity War premiere.

“Um, it’s-” she went to answer but was cut off by a squeal from behind the camera, followed by a yell.

“Scarlett!”

Recognizing who it was she rolled her eyes playfully and decided to continue the interview. “Anyway, I was-”

“SCARLETT! JOHANSSON!”

“I am so sorry, that’s..” Scarlett chuckled and the interviewer had an amused expression as they went to look at your direction. They handed the microphone to Scarlett, “it’s okay! Do you wanna...?”

“What, what do you want?” She spoke through the microphone. It’s funny because the camera never showed where you were and just focused on Scarlett and the interviewer.

“I - I JUST WANNA SAY I MISSED YOU.”

The interviewer laughed, still amused by all of it. Scarlett scoffed, “we literally did each other’s hair before we arrived.”

“CAN I SIT NEXT TO YOU LATER?”

“Y/N-”

“PLEASE?”

-

Being an actress your whole life had cons, because that meant you didn’t have a lot of free time whenever you had something going on so school was tough.

But you managed to graduate.

Scarlett came to support you. You had just received your diploma as the camera followed your movement - probably recorded by a relative or friend - then your best friend came into view as you ran into her open arms.

The best part was you were both unbothered despite being huge personalities and you appreciated it greatly, it just made you more happy and you got to process everything.

“Oh my gosh, you did it!” Scarlett exclaimed which could still be heard on the video even if the place was noisy and they were still calling up students on stage. She loosened the hug a bit to get a look at you. You put on a genuine, excited smile and hugged her again.

-

You just fiddling with Scarlett’s polished nails during an interview, none of you acted like it was a big deal and Scarlett didn’t look like she minded. You always felt like you had to be fiddling something during interviews, especially when you’re thinking of a thorough answer. The only times you didn’t is when you’re making movements with your hands to answer the question or you’re distracted with an interview game the producers planned.

And Scarlett wanted you to be comfortable, so she just went with it and eventually got used to it.

-

A recording of one of your old streams.

“Alright, I’m just gonna...” you adjusted your stream settings. Whenever you had nothing to do, no projects to work on, you streamed and played games on Twitch. Not too much though, and all the money you earned from there goes to your favorite charities. “Wait hang on-”

You mostly played with mainstream and famous streamers, sometimes your co-stars, and sometimes your Avengers cast members would stop by to watch the stream and it was really fun.

Where did these streams take place? You and Scarlett’s apartment. The both of you agreed to buy your own little place so whenever either of you had shootings nearby you’d just stop by there instead of booking a hotel room. (You bought the place in the middle of Scarlett’s divorce and you thought it would relax and take her mind off things a bit).

You switched the screen to say ‘be right back’ because you smelled smoke. You remembered Scarlett telling you she’d be preparing something in the kitchen.

“Scar?” You called out. Your voice was still booming on the stream because you forgot to mute and you haven’t left your chair yet. “Scarlett?”

“Yeah?”

“Everything okay in there?” Your voice was a little bit far away from the microphone now.

Two seconds of silence. “Yup, I’m fine. Just working on this casserole-”

“Well, is it burning?”

Another moment of silence. You eyed the fire extinguisher in the corner of the room just in case.

“...no?”

The video cuts to the part where everything’s fine now and you turned your camera back on. “Okay, so-” you scrolled through the chat box, and your eyes widened at what everyone was talking about. 

“Oh god I forgot to mute, didn’t I?”

You burst out laughing, scrolling further into the chat and checking your phone as well, a few texts from Anthony Mackie, Lizzie Olsen and a missed call from Cevans. All of them asking if the both of you were okay and if they needed to call the fire department.

“Scarlett’s going to kill me.”

-

“Action!”

Held by strings, you threw harsh punches towards the supposed Black Widow, and you dodged hers back. Both your expressions were cold and stern as you tried to take the other down. 

Not until Scarlett accidentally hit you with one of her batons on the temple.

She was out of character before the director could even say ‘cut’, you nearly stumbled when she ran over to check if she had hit you that hard. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Was it hard? Come on let me see,”

-

“And now we’re going to show you something a little bit different here is an audience reaction to a particular scene from Avengers: Endgame.”

You and Scarlett were invited to do a video where the both of you would react to all the movies you did together and maybe say something about the experience working on it.

“It better not be - oh no,” you tried to hide your head behind Scarlett’s shoulder as she watched the scene interestedly since she wasn’t around that time anymore.

Since your character and Widow didn’t get along on all the previous movies, the Russos thought it would be touching to add a little scene right after Tony Stark’s funeral with Clint, Wanda and your character talking.

Audible mutters can be heard from the audience when the camera showed your face, emotionless, but your eyes were starting to gloss.

Then you said something short that made the audience gasp, and when tears came out of your eyes the reactions were loud. Just goes to show that your character actually cared for the person they despised.

“Touching,” Scarlett chuckled turned to you as the scene ended, a little smile played on her lips. “You know what? You look adorable when you’re crying.”

You removed yourself from her shoulder with a pout. “Well do you wanna know what was on my mind while we were filming that?” You were talking to both Scarlett and all the people behind the camera. “I was thinking of this stupid fight me and Scarlett had-”

“No!” She laughed, hugging you, but you kept talking and the crew started to laugh.

“In fact I don’t know what caused it, but I know it was stupid and we didn’t talk for weeks-”

“It was embarrassing and made no sense at all!” Scarlett cringed.

“And, like, all of you know I can’t last a day without this woman she literally ties my shoelaces for me,” you laughed. “But I cried at least three times because I missed her.”

-

The next clip was the actual Endgame scene they showed from the interview.

“We won. We did it.” Clint said.

“She knows,” Wanda nodded. “They both do.”

They held each other for a bit, but Clint noticed something off, spotting you sitting on your own on the grass with your knees against your chest as you stared blankly into the lake. Wanda tilted her head to show her concerns as well.

“Hey!” Clint called out.

But you remained silent.

Your character was cold, much like Bucky Barnes when he’s the Winter Soldier but instead that was your character’s actual personality. Doesn’t take shit from anyone, barely smiles or shows any emotion whatsoever. The important thing for your character is to get things done, and they believe it’s what they’re alive for.

You won’t deny, you were a fan favorite.

So when your character met Natasha Romanoff in Age of Ultron, both parties did not get on the same foot, having short fight scenes when it was necessary (which was so fun to film), ever since they never got along. Your character always gave bitter comments towards Natasha, she just ignored you, that kind of relationship.

But then she died retrieving the soul stone from Vormir.

Your character and Natasha last saw each other at Wakanda, you were one of the heroes that got dusted after the snap.

“You okay?” Clint asked as both him and Wanda walked over to you. You didn’t budge from your expressionless state not until the archer spoke again. “You know you can tell us anything, right?”

You blinked then looked at the ground where you sighed. “I....” you shook your head and when you went to look at him, full face shown to the camera, a tear or two ran down to your cheek. “I just miss her, Barton.”

Clint sighed understandingly while Wanda looked at you sympathetically. The scene ended with all three of you watching the lake from afar, before switching to Happy and Morgan’s.

-

You smiled as the video came to an end, deciding to text your favorite human just because you haven’t seen her since her wedding, then you had to be home at all times because of the pandemic.

: youtube. com/watch?v=tniMnFhAPBs

: Watch it

: What is it? Another one of those memes again?

: Kinda but it’s better!!

: Hahaha I’ll check it out

: How are you doing by the way? Need a care package?

: You know what would be better?

: If I come over this weekend :-)

---

I’ve learned not to stan and be attached to celebrities bc you’ll never know if they’re problematic or not

as much as I want to ‘stan’ the avengers cast, I’m gonna say I just admire them :))

SHAMELESS PLUG: check out the natasha romanoff ambience i did!