#been picking away at this for the past few days

[lifeasadorkwithnolife]

Protect You

Word Count: 3200

Azriel has always gone out of his way to keep Y/N out of harms way, but Rhys sends her on a mission anyway.

-------

Azriel and you weren’t exactly on the best of terms, despite the fact that you had been a part of the inner circle for centuries- he rarely spoke to you. At first it really hurt your feelings, was it something you did? But after the years passed you learned that sometimes you can’t change a male’s opinion, no matter how many times you tried.

               It was just another normal day at the house, you and Nessa were occupying chairs across from each other, reading in silence. Although your primary job was writing down Prythian’s true history, you still loved the library and reading all the books the house had to offer. You were never really adept for the front lines, no matter how much training Rhys put you through.

 The library was aglow from the setting sun from the large windows, and you felt the warmth on your face as you read. You could honestly stay like this forever. You and Nessa had a unique friendship- despite her forceful resistance to joining the inner circle and stubbornness to admit that sometimes she was wrong, you two had gotten along well.

               “Sometimes, I wonder if I will ever find a male like the ones we read about.” Nessa sighs, dropping the book in her lap. “They are just so…. In tune to their lovers’ feelings- I’ve personally never witnessed that before.”

               “I’m sure there are some males like that.” You smiled, meeting her dark eyes. The thought of Cassian crossed your mind, and the love for her that he wore openly on his shoulder. “At least you have a few centuries to find it now.”          

               “Yes, thank the cauldron.” Nessa rolled her eyes, pulling her book back up to eye level. After a few moments, she lowered it to meet your eyes. “Have you talked to the shadow singer lately?”

               Your eyebrows rose, and you set down your book, sitting up a bit. “You know me and Azriel don’t talk- what do you mean?”

               You were right- you and Azriel did not talk, if anything, he actively avoided talking to you at every opportunity. “I just feel at times- that you two might be a good couple, but I could be wrong.”

               “I promise you- you’re wrong. Azriel is the last person I could ever imagine being with.” You laughed, picking up your book. “I don’t believe he even has feelings- much less for me. But speaking of males- what about you and Cassian, have you ever thought about it?”

               “I’ve definitely thought about Cassian, but I am not sharing those thoughts with you.” Nessa laughed, throwing a pillow towards you. “He’s insufferable, but I can’t help who I’m attracted to-“

               “Y/N, the high lord has requested you.” You heard a deep voice behind you and nearly jumped out of your chair. Azriel was standing in the doorway, shadows slowly snaking up his arms. You had never seen him in this light, his skin was almost glowing, he was breathtaking. You froze in place, admiring the swirls of tattoos up his arms and leading into places that you wish you could see. Caldron, why couldn’t you control yourself. “Did you hear me?”

               “Yes, yes Az I heard you. Sorry, I’ll be right there.” You sighed, moving the blanket and getting up to slowly stretch. You had anticipated spending the whole day reading, so your outfit wasn’t exactly…. appropriate. You reached up to stretch, feeling the fabric of your shirt lift up past your navel. You heard the loud footsteps of the male walking away, and you sat back down.

               “You are down so bad for him, Y/n.” Nessa muttered, “I don’t know who you’re lying to, but it’s definitely not me. You should have seen the way that male looked at you just now...like he's starving."

               “I’m not lying to anyone- and I’ll be back as soon as I find out what our ‘high lord’ requests of me.” You laugh, throwing her pillow back and placing your bookmark. "And there is no way he looked at me like that, you've been reading too many of those books."

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

               “Would you feel comfortable going to the Spring Court?” Rhysand asks, tapping his finger against his chin as he stares at the excessively large map on the table. “I feel like it would really be helpful to get a sense of the…attitudes of the population there. I don’t feel like our high lord of the spring court is doing a great job with moral.”

               “Of course, anything you need.” You replied, “When do you need me to go?”

               “I was thinking today, if possible.” Rhys looked at you, “if that’s okay with you.”

               You nodded, looking at the map. “It should only be a couple days- but you’re well known here. You should probably wear a disguise and make this as discreet as possible. The last thing I need is you getting caught.”

               “I can handle that,” You smiled at Rhys, you two had been through so much over the years. When he went under the mountain, you were sure that you were going to lose your mind, Azriel and Cassian had lost theirs. “I promised you when you came back- I will do anything it takes to keep you here and keep Velaris safe.”

               Rhys nods, then his head perks up. “Go pack your things.” You nodded, turning and leaving the room. After a quick walk down the hall, you remembered the book that you had left sitting on the desk. You quickly turned to grab it, but as you placed your hand on Rhysand’s door handle you heard the hush voices of Rhysand and Azriel.

               “You cannot send her out there.” Azriel growled, his voice low. “We have spies for this very reason.”

               “Y/N will be just fine Azriel, she’s a big girl and can handle herself.” Rhysand chuckled; you could hear the smirk in his voice.

               “She’s going to get herself hurt out there, just let me handle it.” Azriel insisted, but Rhys didn’t reply. “it’s going to drive me crazy out, you know that right? Knowing that she’s out there in the spring court, and I’m stuck here and can’t do a thing about it? She’ll ruin everything!”

               You shook your head, ire filling your veins. How dare he? You rarely, if ever, go on missions. Sure, you weren’t as strong as Cassian or Azriel, and sure, you weren’t as experienced at combat or using your powers as them, but you were still useful- especially at reading emotions. You hesitated, removing your hand from the handle, torn between throwing open the door and ripping Azriel a new one, or going back to your room to cry.

               The decision was made for you when the door was opened, and Azriels dark eyes bore into yours. “Eavesdropping now?”

               “Fuck you.” You spat, looking between him and Rhysand. “I know that you think I’m weak- that I’m incompetent, but I can assure you I’m not. I can handle myself just fine.”

               “That’s not what I’m saying Y/N,” Azriel tried to interrupt, but you held up your hand.

“I’m going, and I’m not going to ruin anything okay? I will die before I ever let Tamlin get his hands on me or give up anything about this court. Despite the fact that you don’t seem to think I can handle myself.” He went to speak again, and you stopped him, “I’m packing my things, I just came back to grab this.” You stormed past him, grabbing your book off the desk.

               An emotion quickly crossed Azriel’s face, which he quickly concealed. “You’re right- I don’t believe you can handle it. Just stay here in that little library with Nessa and I’ll get this handled. The first time danger comes your way- you won’t be able to handle it. Let me handle it.”

               You stared at him, dumbfounded. “I’m glad I know how you truly feel Azriel, but I don’t care.” You walked away, storming down the hall, a middle finger pointing back at him.

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

               The spring court was… and absolute disaster. The territory was chaos, fae ran rampant and there seemed to be no order- even Tamlin’s guard was nowhere to be found. You sat in the attic of one of the only buildings that wasn’t burnt down and wrote in a journal that you would be bringing back to Rhysand- hopefully all the details would help.

               “Whos’ up there?” A gruff voice shouted, and you heard a loud bang as the floor from under you collapsed. You fell, crashing to the lower floor in a pile of hay. The breath left your lungs in a whoosh, and the pain from the fall echoed across your back. “Who are you? Why are you hiding?”

               You couldn’t respond, still waiting for the breath in your lungs to return. “Who are you?” The man shouted, sending a kick towards your stomach. You rolled over, coughing up whatever air was left. A gasp escaped your mouth as you tried to breathe in whatever your lungs would allow.

               The notebook was ripped from your hands, and the male started to read. You looked up at him through the haze of dust that floated around you due to the ceiling falling in, and although you could not read his facial expressions super clearly- you understood that you were screwed. You tried to quickly get up to make a run for it, but after one step you found that your ankle was severely bent in the wrong direction. The pain shot up your leg and you winced.

               “Well well well…” The man stated, “I’m sure my high lord would love to see you, the friend of the high lord who stole his bride.”

               You shook your head, but he pulled you up, and another male took your other arm. They tugged you out of the building, into the open clearing outside. Fae froze in their tracks, either holding baskets of vegetables, linens, or whatever else could be traded, they all froze to stare at you.

               You tried to remember whatever moves Cassian had showed you, but with a bad ankle, even if you could get out of this hold, there would be nowhere to go. You couldn’t give up any information, that was just not an option. The words you had told Azriel only a few days before came back to you- you would rather end your life, than give away any information about the night court.

               You knocked your head back, feeling the pang as your head hit the man in the lower jaw. His grip loosened ever so slightly, and you were able to turn and throw a punch at the first man, right in the eye. You felt the warmth around your hand and knew that you had severely injured him, possibly puncturing his eye. You tried to run, but your ankle wouldn’t allow it and you fell to the ground. The male came running back towards you, his eye shut and already swelling.

               You took the knife out of your sack, knowing what you had to do, there was no way that you would win this fight. You held the knife out, aiming it towards your chest, when a gust of dark wind picked it up and tossed it aside.

               One minute the men were coming towards you, the next they were backing away, hands in the air as they nearly tripped over themselves. You felt the air change around you, a familiar scent entering your nose, and you knew who it was- it was Azriel.

               Two knives flew towards the men, entering each of their chest with no issue. You sighed, leaning back into the ground and placing your hands over your face, not being able to help the tears filing your eyes. You felt two strong hands pick you up, and start walking you towards the forest.         

               “Did Rhys send you out here?” You sniffled, not being able to help it. “Did he assume I couldn’t do it?”

               “No, of course not.” Azriel replied, looking down at you, an expression you didn’t recognize on his face. “Please- don’t cry.”

               “Don’t tell me what to.” You mumbled, wiping your eyes with the back of your hands. “Just take me home- please.”

               Azriel nodded, winnowing you both back to the winter house.

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

               Your ankle was healed, but you refused to leave your room. You told Nessa you just didn’t feel well, but it was the shame in the pit of your stomach that you had afraid to leave. Rhys sent you on a secret mission, once of the most basic missions he could have asked, and you still fucked it up. Azriel was right.

               A knock sounded on the door, and you grumbled, turning over in bed. “Go away.” You mumbled, but the door opened anyways. “Nessa, please I’m not in the mood.”

               The door shut, and you turned to see… Azriel standing in the doorway. He had a book in one hand and a glass in the other, filled with water. “Are you here to rub it in? To tell me you were right?” You turned back over, slumping in bed.

               You felt the end of the bed sink as he sat, and placed the book and water on your nightstand, the book that you were reading when Rhys sent you off. “Y/n- I just want to talk.”

               “I don’t want to talk to you.” You whispered, staring at the setting sun outside the window. “You have had literal centuries to talk to me, but you haven’t, what’s changed?”

               “I came to say I’m sorry.” Azriel sighed, “I’m not very good at admitting that I’m wrong, but it’s something I’m working on.”

               “No Azriel, you weren’t wrong.” Tears stung your eyes again, and you sat up to face him. “You’re never wrong, and that’s the problem. You said I couldn’t handle it, you said I would ruin everything, and I did.”

               “No, you didn’t.” Azriel grabbed your hand, squeezing it. You froze, you had always wanted to feel him like this, always wanted to grab his hand, but had always been too scared- he would have never had welcomed it. “I need to be honest with you, and I’m going to say this once. You can reject me or push me away and I will never ask again- but please just hear me out now.”

               “Fine.” You whispered, wiping the tear from your eye. He stared earnestly at you, his eyes open and unguarded for the first time. He shook his head, looking away. “Just tell me.”

               “I can’t tell you when you’re crying- I can’t stand it.” He released your hand, standing up and turning towards the window, his back to you. “Y/N, I never believed you couldn’t handle it, I never believed that you would fail- but I just could not stand the possibility that it was a possibility.”

               “What are you talking about Azriel?” You asked, but he refused to turn around.

               “The reason Rhys doesn’t send you on missions, the reason he doesn’t put you in danger, is because he owes me one.” Azriel said, his hands folding behind his back. “Knowing that you are in danger, knowing that you are somewhere I can’t protect you- I can’t get anything done, I can’t be productive, and my shadows don’t agree with it either. It literally drives me fucking crazy Y/N.

               He turns to you, his eyes wide open, almost crazed. You could recognize his expression now, it was fear. “The whole time you were there, I watched those men watch you. It wasn’t any fault of yours, it was just pure luck. You did so well.”

               “Wait- you were there? The whole time?” You shouted, ripping off the covers and revealing your pajamas. “Wow- you must really not have trusted me, you just assumed I would fuck it up.”

               “Are you not listening to what I’m saying?” Azriel shouted, running his hands through his disheveled hair. “I cannot live knowing that you are in danger! Rhysand knew full well that I would not be able to sit here idly by as you risked your life out there, without me there to protect you in case things went wrong. Y/N, I can not live without you, you must see that.”

               The bed groaned under your weight as you sat back down, unsure of the words. “Y/N, please. I told you I would tell you once. I cannot ever- ever- put you in a situation where you are unsafe. If it were up to me, you would be in this fucking house all day reading your books, and I would work twice as hard just so you wouldn’t have to.”

               “I know its unreasonable, I know it’s crazy, but some instinctual part of me just can’t let you put your life at risk.” He whispered, moving to the floor and kneeling, grabbing your hands. “Your work here is important, just as important as fighting on the front lines. Please- for me, just stay here.”

               “Why do you feel this way Azriel?” You asked, pulling your hands from his. “no offense- but you have spent the last 2 centuries avoiding me at every opportunity. I have tried to be friends, I have bought you books I thought you might like- hell, I still even go to that stupid bakery and buy you a cake on your birthday every year- but you still don’t talk to me. And now you come around and ask me to keep myself out of danger? I need a good reason Azriel.”

               “I love you, Y/n.” Azriel shouts back, grabbing your hands back. “From the day I met you, I have loved you. I love you when I watch you read your books, I love you when you laugh with everyone BUT me, I love you when you stare at the night sky. And how was I supposed to tell you when you’ve made it so painfully obvious you could never love me?”

               Azriel stopped, clearing his throat and backing up. “But now I understand, you don’t feel the same. Just please keep yourself safe- if not for my sake, then yours.”

               “Azriel- stop, please.” You whispered, more tears coming to your eyes. “I…I have always hated when you left too.” You looked at him, and he turned to look back at you. “I have looked at other males and found myself comparing them to you- every single time. It hurt me so much when I overhead what you and Rhys said about me. I’ve always known that I’m not as strong as you or Mor, but hearing my worst fears confirmed-‘

               “I didn’t mean what I said.” Azriel interrupted, giving you a small smile. “I was trying to find any reason for you not to go- or at least send me with you. You can handle yourself- but I can’t handle myself while you do. I heard what you said about me and you never working out, I was angry about that and angry at him, I just wasn’t in control of my emotions.”

               “Please don’t accept any more missions from that asshole.” Azriel grew serious, his eyes darkening with anger. You grabbed his hand, squeezing it slightly, nodding. “I know you feel like you can’t say no, but just tell him to fuck off.”

               You laughed, choking on the tears. “I’m not going to tell him that Az.” You whispered, you went to touch his face, then hesitated a couple inches away. He moved his face towards your hand, and you cupped his cheek. His stubble grazing your palm, and butterflies filling your chest. “You…really feel that way?”

               “I swear it to you.” Azriel, covered your hand in his. “If you let me, I will spend every day protecting you for the rest of my life.”

               You nodded, and you felt the relief in the breath he exhaled. “I love you too Azriel.”  

[luvbinnies]

i made a promise, to distance myself

A boy who kept his feelings locked away and someone who wore their heart on their sleeve. When he walked away, it was without warning, without reason. And they refused to wait for an explanation. Now few months later, forced to work together on a project neither can escape, old wounds resurface. Silence turns into stolen glances, resentments bleeds into something dangerously familiar, and the past refuses to stay buried.

Genre: fluff, angst, exs to lovers, el oh el.

warnings: swearing, isaac newton mentioned, could be sad ig (?), i can't think of anything else

a/n: im back from the dead, recently fell under a moving car and got dumped el oh el, some parts in here are inspo by like my actual life, i have a list of all the similarities if anyone is curiosu at the end of the story. basically wake up from a dream where me and my ex got back together and wrote this.

wc: 9.6k (longest fic ever el oh el)

Jumping off a flight of stairs was probably not the best idea, but it was the only thing you could think of at the moment.

Reluctantly moving down the stairs and following the loud clunk sounds of your stupid bright neon green water bottle. Books and papers of drawings and blueprints that won't fit into your messenger bag without getting damaged. Maybe you should’ve listened to when people said getting a regular backpack was much more convenient than the bag you had now, but it was much more fashionable. 

Landing at the bottom of the staircase, take a moment to breathe and prepare yourself for having to go back up five flights of stairs to get to class. Because even though the school is one of the prestigious in the country, they refuse to have any sort of elevators to ruin their “dark academic” aesthetic of the building. 

Eyes traveling on the old cobbled stoned flooring, trying to locate a neo-coded water bottle, your mother insisted on getting since she read somewhere green is this year's lucky colour. Probably found in some ridiculous article, really got to get her off social media. 

Bright neon green slipped through your peripheral vision, turning to face the still rolling bottle and walking towards it before it makes you late for your next class. It stops in front of a pair of solid black shoes, one that looks all too familiar. The figure stops at the feeling of the ratchet bottle that wants to ruin your day even more than it already has. 

A recognizable pale hand, with a silver ring on the index,  hesitantly drops down to pick up the bottle that led you down a path to the literal pits of hell for you. Eyes not dare looking up from the ground, taking your somewhat free hand and extending out your pinky to the now stranger you have a bitter taste in your mouth everytime you come near. Once the feeling of your pinky is weighted down by the feeling of the water bottle’s hook, you take off up the stairs with energy that you didn’t think you had anymore left of, as it’s your third time climbing these stairs in the past ten minutes. 

Not a care in the world if a stranger walks by and deem you as a rude bastard who can’t even say thank you, because you can;t even say a word to the “nice stranger” who handed you your water bottle. All you can do around him now is just run and avoid. That’s what you continue to do until you reach your class, probably looking a little weird as you were also cursing at your bottle and gravity, mainly isaac newton, he’s usually the bane of all your problems lately, besides the man you used to call yours. 

—

His friends would sometimes joke to him that the world is too fast for him at times, usually when he doesn’t get a joke right away or for him zoning out, especially as it has been worse in these past few months. 

But that happened so fast, he has no idea what to do, or how to react but just to stare at your figure rushing up the stairs. Sunghoon’s jaw tightens as you fade away up the many flights of stairs. Acting like he is some contagious virus, even afraid to touch him, much less look at him. 

He would remember when their friend group was still intact and when they would all hang out, how sometimes the gang would get too overwhelming, even from the other side of the room you would catch his eye and always give him a comforting smile. And the simple eye contact with one another, while the world moves along around them. 

But he had lost that with you and it’s all his fault. 

—

Taking a little break from the assignment in front of you to angrily tap on your phone so the ads on your music app stop, knowing you aren’t really actually doing anything to get rid of them unless you become one of the apps victims and pay for music. But your stubbornness and being broke, so aggressively hitting your phone is your next best solution. 

The little silence after the ad is finally done and the next song is about to start, you can hear a mechanical pencil roll off of a desk. A quiet clatter could barely be noticed in the slight hum of the library. You didn’t hear it at first, the angry high you had because of the ad made you lock out of concentrating from your work— until you noticed the hand reaching for it making you pause.

Long pale fingers. A silver ring on the index.

You know those hands, it's your second time seeing them in… you weren’t too sure the last time you saw those hands when they were wrapped around your water bottle. All you knew was that you were seeing those hands much sooner than you needed to. 

Those hands, you remember the weight of those hands in yours, the way they used to hold your face and caress your cheek, the way they tug at your sleeves on your sweater absentmindedly. 

And you recognize the pencil.

It’s yours.

Not exactly, but you did buy that pencil. 

Something in you starts feeling nauseous, or light-headed, you couldn’t really figure out in the moment because without thinking, you reach out and yank that pencil right out of his grip. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have done that, because now that gross boy opened his mouth, but you didn’t care. 

Sunghoon blinks. “Hey did you just—”

Whenever you were bored in class you would always do fun pencil tricks and even taught him how to do some with this said pencil in your hands. 

Spinning the pencil around, inspecting it with feigned interest, not caring about the boy next to you with his mouth open like a fish staring at you. “Huh. I forgot how nice this pencil was.”

Now his mouth is close as he clenches his jaw, his  stare sharpening. “You can’t be serious.”

Finally turning your head to look at him, trying to maintain the emotions on your face. Instead of saying something you might end up regretting, in the fear of sounding cringe, you just shrug. 

“Give it back.”

“Why?” Resting your chin on your hand. “It’s mine.”

He exhales sharply, the kind of exasperated breath he used to let out when you teased for taking things too seriously. Except now there’s a little bit of an edge to everything. 

“You gave it to me.”

You tilt your head “Did I?”

You weren’t sure if he could clench his jaw any harder, but somehow he does. “Yeah. You did.”

Your grip on the pencil tightens. You can’t say you remember everything that was said the night of the break up, but you remember the way you felt, the way he left without explanation— like he couldn’t bear to stay with you any second longer. As if he couldn’t stand to hold on to something that was already slipping away. 

He didn’t even let you have a say, you didn’t get the chance to do anything, not even fight for what was yours then. 

So now you hold on to that damn pencil. 

“Well,” you say, voice light, “technically, it was mine first.”

Sunghoon lets out a humorless laugh, one you don’t recognize in this fever dream daze of nostalgia. Leaning against the table, he’s close now, closer than you could've prepared for. You hate the way your heart stumbles over itself at the lack of distance, at the way he still smells the same— like something clean and sharp, a little cologne you had bought him about a year ago for his birthday. 

His voice drops an octave. “You’re seriously pulling this shit?”

Shrugging again, simply just pulling a stare you hope doesn’t reveal how fast your heart is beating stupidly like it used to. 

He watches you for a long second, his brown eyes scanning your face like he’s trying to figure out what type of game you were playing. But then, not arguing, instead of pushing back, he just exhales softly. 

“Fine,” he mutters, “Keep it.”

And then, right before he turns away— so quiet you almost think you had imagined it—

“It suits you better anyways.”

You blink.

Before you could say anything, maybe asking what the fuck he meant by what he said, he’s already walking off. Leaving you with a mechanical pencil in your hands and this time you watching him as he walks away, with a taste of words you don��t quite understand.

—

Two year ago

Rain pitter patters against the windows, a dull hum in the background in the near-empty classroom. It’s late— too late for anyone to be here— you didn’t care, you were too stubborn. Chewing on your nail, brows furrowed in concentration as you glare at your notebook, completely oblivious to the fact that Sunghoon hasn’t turned a page in the last ten minutes. 

He should be focusing. He should be running through formulas in his head, thinking about the test tomorrow, or at the very least be pretending to be studying. Instead, he’s watching you— watching the way you puff out your cheeks when you stop understanding what you were just doing, the way you spin the pencil in your hand absentmindedly, the way you whisper to yourself while doing each exercise when you think no one’s listening.

You’re always like this– loud without meaning to be, pulling attention without even trying. 

He should’ve known sooner. That you were dangerous in the kind of way that crept up on him, slipping past his defenses before he had the chance to stop it. 

“Sunghoon.”

Your voice snaps him back to reality, he straightens, forcing his face into something neutral. “What?”

Pushing your notebook towards him, sighing dramatically. “Did you do this one yet? I don’t know if I did it correctly.”

He glances at your notebook, eyes widening a little, as to the most he could see on the page was a bunch of scribbles and some incoherent formulas and calculation. Having a hard time reading it , before shifting his chair closer. You don’t think twice about it when your shoulders brush. You never do. 

But he does.

He always does. 

“Is this your answer, at the corner?” he asks, taking your pencil without thinking, to circle the little number at the bottom of the page. Your fingers graze for a second, and he wonders if you feel the static the way he does. Probably not. You’d pull away if you did.

He attempted to go over your work, commenting on what you have written in a voice that’s much steadier than he feels. You nod along, resting your chin on your hand, eye flickering between his face and page. 

“I hate Isaac Newton and that stupid apple.” you grumble.

Sunghoon huffs a quiet laugh shaking his head. “You just overthink everything.”

You groan. “I wish that apple killed that stupid white man.” 

He watches as you bury your head in your arms on the table, tapping your forehead lightly with the end of the pencil before setting it back down. “Just stop overthinking and wishing death upon an already dead man.”

Lifting your head, you blink at him, lips parting like you want to argue, but for a brief moment, something passes between the two of you— something neither of you have a name for yet.

And then you roll your eyes, reaching for your notebook. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever, idiot.”

Sunghoon watches as you turn your pages to start a new question, completely unaware of the way his fingers twitch against his knee, resisting the urge to brush a stray strand of hair from your face.

Yeah.

He’s in trouble. 

—

A few months ago

The night air is cold, but not as cold as the space between you.

Your arms are crossed. His hands are shoved into his pockets.

A street light flickers overhead. A car passes in the distance. 

Sunghoon exhales, steadying himself.

Then. before he can stop it— before he can think too hard about what he’s about to lose—

“I think we should break up.”

Silence.

The kind that swallows everything whole.

Your lips part, but no words come out. 

Your lips part, but no words come out.

The look in your eyes— confusion, disbelief, then something else, something that burns— 

“What-Why?”

He doesn’t answer. Or maybe he does, but it’s not the right thing.

It’s never the right thing.

The air is heavy, thick with things neither of you are saying.

Then, finally— your voice, quieter this time.

“Okay.”

A single step back. Then another.

And then—

Nothing. 

—

The classroom hums with chatter, students moving around and the teacher speaking about some project, but you were barely listening. Your attention is elsewhere— on your notebook, on the scratches of pen against paper, literally anything but him.

He was two rows ahead, resting his chin on his hand, half-focused on his laptop. Almost similar to you right now. Too similar. 

You don’t look at him. You don’t let yourself.

But then—

“For the project, you’ll be working in pairs.”

There is a ripple of movement through the room, students glancing around already choosing their partners. 

“I’ve assigned them to you.”

Your stomach twists. 

You sit a little straighter. Your fingers tighten around your pen. 

 The professor starts listing off names. One by one, students find their partner. You’re holding your breath, waiting for—

And then—

Your name.

And then, immediately after—

His. 

You freeze.

The room suddenly feels too small, the air too thick. 

Someone nudges your arm, murmuring something about how lucky you are since you get to work with the “hottest guy on campus”, but their voice is distant, muffled by the sound of blood rushing in your ears.

Slowly, hesitantly, you lift your gaze. 

Sunghoon had turned in his seat. 

For the first time in months, you’re looking at each other. 

And the worst part? He doesn’t even look surprised. 

—

Sunghoon doesn’t hear from you for the rest of the day. 

Not a text, not a call— nothing.

And the, at exactly 11:51 pm., an email lands in his inbox.

Subject: Project Task

From: yn@beliftuniversity.com

To: parksunghoon@beliftuniversity.com 

Attached is the project outline. I’ve divided the tasks. I’ll handle the structural analysis and concept sketches. You can do the mechanical components. Tell me when you are done. 

Sent from my phone

That’s it. No greeting. No unnecessary words. Not  even your name.

Sunghoon exhales through his nose, clicking open the file. You’ve already set up everything— titles, labels, even deadlines. You’ve practically built a wall of professionalism between you, as if you were never anything but classmates. 

And it pisses him off.

Fine. two can play this game. 

He types a reply, short and to the point.

Subject: Re: Project Tasks

Got it. 

He doesn’t hit send. 

His fingers hover over the keyboard. His jaw clenches.

Then, in a moment of stubborn impulse, he types—

You can’t avoid me forever.

And hits send before he can take it back.

—

“You know, he’s right.”

You shoot a glare over at Sunoo. “Don’t start.”

“I’m just saying,” he continued, kicking his feet up on the bench. “You can’t ignore him forever.”

“I can, actually.” you sip your matcha pointedly. “It’s called email.”

He snorts. “You sound like a middle-aged professor.”

“Good. Maybe he’ll leave me alone then.”

Sunoo raises an eyebrow. “He literally told you, ‘You can’t avoid me forever.’”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, and? I don’t care.”

The words are barely out of your mouth when Sunoo suddenly stiffens, eyes darting over your shoulder. 

“Uh—”

You don’t even have to ask. You just know.

There’s a familiar shift to the air, an awareness pressing down on your skin. 

And then, just to confirm it—

“Shit,” Sunoo mutters. “He’s down the hall.”

You don’t think. You just move.

Your hands shoot out, gripping his sleeve as you drag them down the corridor. 

“Are you serious?!” he hiss between stumbling steps.

“Shut up, shut up , shut up—”

“Please can we stop running, I don’t think he would be chasing us down for sport.”

You don’t care. You don’t turn around because you know if you do, you’ll see Sunghoon standing there, staring after you, that unreadable look on his face. 

And you are not giving him that satisfaction.

Not today. 

—

Staring at your laptop screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard, the flashing cursor blinking back at you in defiance. You’ve been avoiding this email for days— every time you think about it your stomach churns, and you mind races with excuses. 

You don’t want to deal with him. Not now. Not ever again.

The project, the meeting, the unavoidable tension. You had hoped, foolishly, that you could really just avoid Sunghoon completely— keep everything strictly professional, send email, handle the assignment without having to face him in person. But that plan was crushed the moment the email landed in your inbox, his name in bold. 

“Let’s meet in person tomorrow to go over the project. I’ll bring the drafts.”

Of course, Sunghoon had to take the initiative. You had a suspicion he’d never let you hide behind your screen forever. He was stubborn, too, in a way that always seemed to get under your skin. 

You arrived at the library, dragging your feet, already feeling the weight of the situation settle in your chest. The project was an assignment, but the real challenge was having to sit across from him, pretending that nothing had happened, pretending that the last year— no, the last months— hadn’t been a whirlwind of frustration and heartache.

But here you were, faced with reality. You walked into the library, hoping to avoid eye contact, but you couldn’t escape the familiar sight of him sitting at a table with all his papers neatly organized, a slight form on his face as he scanned the documents. 

His eyes flicked up when he saw you enter, and for a second, your heart skipped a beat. But you force yourself to remain calm. He was just a classmate now, just another part of your academic routine. Nothing more. 

You set your things down at the table across from him, pulling your laptop out with the practiced motions of someone who had done this a thousand times before. You weren;t going to make this more personal than it had to be. No small talk. No catching up. Just the project. 

“Hey,” Sunghoon greeted, his voice neutral but carrying the weight of something unsaid. He glanced at the papers in front of you and then back to you. “Are you okay with everything so far? I made some revisions to the outline.”

You didn;t look at him. Instead, you glanced at the project papers and began sorting through them, avoiding his gaze entirely. “I’ll read them over later. Just… let’s focus on getting it done.”

You felt his eyes on you, the tension palpable in the air, but you refused to acknowledge it. You had your own part to do, your own work to focus on. Nothing else mattered right now. The project was the only thing that mattered. 

—

Sunghoon sighed, and you could hear the edge of frustration creeping into his voice. “Look, I know this isn;t easy for either of us, but we’re stuck with each other for this project. We might as well get it done right.”

“I’m not here to talk,” you snapped back, the words sharp and defensive. “Just focus on your part. I’ll handle mine.”

His expression hardened , but he didn’t push it any further. He opened up his own laptop and began typing, the sound of the keyboard tapping filling the silence between the both of you. 

For a while, it was quiet— just the sound of typing, rustling of papers. But no matter how hard you tried to focus, you couldn;’t shake the nagging feeling that he was watching you. His presence was like a shadow that followed your every move you made, and you hated how it made your chest tighten. You shouldn’t feel like this. You had no reason to. This wasn’t supposed to be personal. It was just a project. 

But then, suddenly, Sunghoon spoke again, his voice quieter, almost reluctant.

“You know,” he said, voice low but insistent, “we used to work well together. Back in high school. Why are you making this harder than it has to be?”

You froze, your fingers still on the keyboard. You could feel the old pain creep up your throat, but you swallowed it down, shoving it away. No. Don’t go there.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, your voice steady but with a hint of something you don’t want to put a name to. And then, with a sigh, he turned his attention back to his laptop, typing in silence for a long time. 

—

Two year ago

 It had been a late night at the library, the kind where the air felt thick with concentration and the promise of deadlines hanging over every student in the building. You were sitting at the same table as Sunghoon, both of you buried in textbooks, trying to get ahead before the weekend.

It was supposed to be just another study session, but something felt different. Maybe it was the way the soft overhead lights cast shadows over his features or how the silence between you two wasn’t awkward but comfortable. You couldn’t help it— his face was so focused, his lips slightly pursed in concentration, and for some reason, the sight of him studying like that made your heart skip. 

“Is there something on my face?” he asked, his voice teasing but gentle.

You blinked and quickly looked away, flustered. “No … it’s just, you look… nice when you study.”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. He leaned forward slightly, his voice lower than usual. “Nice, huh? That’s a first.”

You wanted to curl up and die from embarrassment, but instead you found yourself smiling despite the heat in your cheeks. Something about being with him felt so easy, so natural.

And then, before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out. “You look… pretty. When you study.”

There was a long pause, and then Sunghoon chuckled, his smile widening. “Pretty, huh? Well, that’s new.”

You couldn’t help it. You laughed too, the awkwardness melting away in the warmth of his gaze. That moment— when you both realized that maybe there was something more there— was when it all started. 

—

The silence in the library stretches again. You go back to your laptop, trying to focus on the work in front of you. But the memory of that moment, of those words you’d said so long ago, hangs in the air like a ghost.

Sunghoon’s presence is undeniable now. Every time his shoulder brushes against yours as he reaches for his drink, it feels like a jolt of electricity. You grit your teeth, forcing yourself to keep working, to ignore the way his proximity makes your heart race. 

“You know, if we just worked together instead of pretending we’re strangers, this would be a lot easier,” Sunghoon says again, his voice a little more insistent now, but still carrying that gentle tone. 

You refuse to look up, clenching your jaw. “Just finish your part. I’ll finish mine.”

“I’ve always liked how stubborn you are,” he mutters, but there’s a soft fondness behind the words. “But you’re going to make this harder than it has to be, aren’t you?”

You bite your lip, fighting the urge to snap back. But the reality is that he’s right. You are making this harder. You’re making everything harder by refusing to acknowledge how much you still feel for him.

But you can’t admit that, not now, not when the walls between you two are so high, so insurmountable. 

—

It’s late—too late for anyone to be at the library anymore. The harsh overhead lights flicker in the empty room, casting long shadows on the tables where students usually sat, buried in their books. But not you. You’re still here, alone, a stack of textbooks and papers spread out before you. The hum of the fluorescent lights fills the air, broken only by the soft tapping of your fingers on the keyboard.

You’ve been here for hours, the deadline looming closer with every passing second. Your mind is tired, but you won’t leave until you finish. It’s like a race against time. A way to distract yourself from everything else.

But then, you feel it. A presence.

You look up, and there’s Sunghoon, standing by the entrance, his gaze scanning the room. You immediately look away, pretending you hadn’t seen him. Why is he here? You weren’t supposed to see him, not tonight.

He walks toward you slowly, his footsteps soft but deliberate. You keep your eyes down, focused on the papers in front of you, but you can feel him getting closer.

“You’re still here?” Sunghoon says, his voice low, like he’s not sure what to make of the situation.

You sigh, unwilling to make this a conversation. “I’m working. Is that a problem?”

“No,” he answers quickly, but there’s a softness to his tone now. Something gentler. “Just... thought you’d left by now.”

You don’t look up, but you hear him pull out the chair opposite you. He sits down, but doesn’t speak immediately. You don’t say anything either. It’s awkward. You try to focus on the work in front of you, trying to ignore the feeling of his presence, so close but still so far away.

You keep your head down, but the longer you stay in the silence, the more you feel the walls you’ve built start to crumble, piece by piece. He doesn’t push you. Doesn’t force a conversation. He just... stays.

You try not to think too much about it. It’s just Sunghoon. Just a classmate.

But then, hours later, you’re blinking, your head feeling heavy as you try to focus on the screen in front of you. You hadn’t realized how tired you were until your eyelids started to flutter. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but the exhaustion catches up with you.

You don’t even realize you’ve nodded off until you’re suddenly jerked awake, your head jerking up from the desk. The library is quiet, almost too quiet, and the light from the desk lamp casts a soft glow around the room. That’s when you notice it.

A jacket—dark, heavy, and familiar—draped over your shoulders.

You blink, still groggy from sleep, and turn to see that Sunghoon is gone, his chair empty. You try to shake the fogginess from your mind, but there’s no denying it: He left his jacket with you.

You didn’t hear him come back. Didn’t feel him approaching. But somehow, he’d slipped it onto you while you were asleep, without a sound.

You sit there for a moment, the jacket still warm against your skin. His scent clings to it, and you find yourself unable to take it off. It feels wrong to just leave it behind, but you’re not sure why it feels so important to keep it on.

You look down at your own hands, your fingers grazing the sleeve, feeling the weight of the jacket, both literally and emotionally. You’re not sure if it’s the jacket that’s weighing on you or the memories that come with it. But it’s there. And so is he.

You stay there for a few more minutes, just sitting in the quiet, knowing that it would be impossible to get anything more done tonight. You pack up your things, but you don’t take off the jacket. Instead, you walk out of the library with it on, your heart a little heavier than when you came in.

—

It was dark outside, and the bus was filled with the soft chatter of your classmates. You and Sunghoon were sitting in the same seat, your shoulders brushing as you both leaned against the window, tired from the day’s activities.

You’d always been close, never quite aware of how it felt to have someone just be there with you. But that day, there was something different about it. It was like you both had settled into this quiet rhythm—comfortable, easy.

You leaned your head against the window, gazing out at the passing lights. The bus was warm, and your eyes were starting to grow heavy from the day’s exhaustion. Without realizing it, you drifted off, your head slipping onto Sunghoon’s shoulder.

He didn’t immediately pull away, didn’t complain. He just let you sleep, his body slightly tensing at the sudden closeness, but not enough to push you away.

And when you woke up, it wasn’t awkward. You just rubbed your eyes, looked up at him, and smiled.

“You’re comfy,” you murmured.

Sunghoon chuckled softly. “You really just fell asleep on me, huh?”

You laughed, feeling a warmth in your chest. “It’s not like I did it on purpose. I didn’t even realize.”

And even though it had only been a few seconds, you both lingered in that moment, your eyes meeting briefly before he gave you a smile that made your heart flutter.

You’d brushed it off as nothing—just a friendly gesture.

—

You’re still sitting in your room, the jacket still on your shoulders. It feels like a weight, not because it’s heavy, but because of the memories it brings. The warmth lingers on your skin, but so does the uncertainty. You can’t figure out why this is bothering you so much.

Your phone buzzes on the table, pulling you from your thoughts. A new email. You don’t need to look at it to know it’s from him. Sunghoon.

The message is simple: “Still need help with the project. Let me know if you want to meet up.”

You close your eyes and let out a slow breath. You want to ignore it. Pretend you didn’t see it. But you can’t. Because part of you wants him to be there. Part of you wants him to still be the one to help you, even if you don’t want to admit it.

You stand up, pacing around the room, the jacket slipping slightly off your shoulders as you move. You pull it tighter around you, almost subconsciously.

You know you’ll have to face him again. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe sooner. Hopefully later. But right now, with his jacket still draped over you, you’re not sure if you're ready.

But for some reason, you know you’re going to have to take it off.

—

You walk into the classroom, clutching the jacket in your hands. It’s been a couple of days since you woke up to find it draped over your shoulders, Sunghoon’s jacket—a silent gesture that spoke more than words ever could. He hadn’t said anything when you first found it. It had simply been there. At first, you thought it was an accident, but the longer you held onto it, the more it felt like something else. You hadn’t returned it immediately, unsure why you kept it. But now, with the fact the two of you share a class together, it felt like the right time.

You spot him sitting by the window, alone, lost in whatever thoughts occupy his mind. He doesn’t notice you as you approach, and the moment feels strangely... intimate, even though you're still far from the comfort you once shared.

You stand in front of him, holding out the jacket, but he doesn’t immediately take it. His eyes flicker up, and for a split second, something unreadable passes between you. He reaches for the jacket, but as his fingers brush yours, it’s more of a reflex than any real desire to touch.

Before you can pull away, a voice from behind you cuts through the moment.

"Are you two... together or just friends?"

You glance over to find a couple of classmates watching you both curiously. It’s a casual question, but the curiosity in their eyes is unmistakable. Sunghoon’s hand freezes mid-motion, his fingers still hovering over the jacket. He looks back at them briefly, his gaze faltering, not quite meeting yours.

For a moment, you’re not sure what to say. You notice how Sunghoon looks at the ground, avoiding any real response. His lips press together, his hand still unsure of whether to take the jacket back or not. He’s hesitant, as always.

You, on the other hand, feel the weight of the question, but you don’t shy away from it. Not this time. You stand tall, glancing over at your classmates and meeting their gaze.

“We’re just friends,” you say, your voice steady and clear. “Nothing more.”

Sunghoon doesn’t say anything. He just takes the jacket from your hand, his fingers brushing yours again, but this time it’s almost mechanical. You turn away quickly, the moment lingering behind you like an unspoken tension.

Your classmates exchange glances, their curiosity piqued, but they don’t push further. They turn their attention to the front of the room as class starts, but the question still lingers in the air.

You sit down at your desk, feeling the eyes of your classmates on you for a moment longer than usual. You force yourself to focus, pretending it doesn’t matter, but the thought of that brief interaction, the way Sunghoon avoided the question, settles heavily in your chest.

The class continues, but your mind drifts, back to that jacket and the weight of unspoken words. You can’t help but wonder what he might’ve said if you hadn’t answered for both of you.

No, that’s what he should’ve said because you guys were not dating, he broke up with you, and now the two of you were simply forced to work together. That’s it. 

—

The autumn air was crisp, carrying the scent of fallen leaves as the two of you walked side by side down the quiet street. The school festival had just ended, and the distant hum of laughter and music still echoed behind you. Groups of students were lingering back at the event, but somehow, the two of you ended up here, together, away from it all. 

It wasn’t planned. It never was with him. It was just how things always seemed to happen.

You hugged your arms around yourself because of the cold, cursing at yourself for not bringing a bigger jacket knowing the weather but wanting to look good for the event. He walked a little ahead, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jackets, his head tilted slightly towards you as if he was waiting for you to say something. 

You had always been the talker between the both of you. The one who made friends easily, the one who never hesitated. But right now, the words sat heavy on your tongue, unspoken. 

He let out a small sigh, looking up at the sky. “It’s late.”

“You should’ve left earlier then.”

He huffed, a tiny, almost-smile tugging at his lips before he looked back ahead. “You didn’t have to leave, you know.”

You shrugged. “Didn’t feel like staying.”

It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth either. The festival had been fine, fun even. But then you’d seen him standing by himself, lingering near the edges of the crowd, not quite a part of it. And suddenly, the excitement of it all had dimmed. 

He kicked a small rock with the tip of his shoe, watching it tumble along the pavement. “Didn’t think you were the type to leave a party early.”

“I’m full of surprises.”

A breeze picked up, and instinctively, you crossed your arms tighter over yourself. Without a word, Sunghoon shrugged off his jacket and held it out to you.

You blinked at him. “What are you doing?”

“You’re cold.”

You scoffed. “I’m not cold.”

He didn’t say anything, just kept holding the jacket out with that blank expression of his— the one that meant he wasn;t going to argue. You hesitated for a second too long, and then, as if deciding for you, he draped it over your shoulders himself. 

You looked up at him, a retort on the tip of your tongue, but then you caught the way his fingers lingered just a second longer against your shoulder, the way he swallowed, like he wanted to say something but thought better of it. 

It was nothing.

It was everything.

Your heart did something stranger in your chest, a quiet stutter. But then he pulled away, shoving his hands back into his pockets, eyes flickering elsewhere like it was no big deal.

Like he didn’t just leave you standing there in the middle of the empty street, drowning in the scent of his cologne, trying not to overthink what had just happened. 

“Let’s go.” he said, his voice calm, steady. Like always. 

You didn’t move right away. You just watched him, this boy who always seemed out of reach.

Then you exhaled and started walking again, side by side, your steps falling in sync.

And if your hands brushed once— just once— neither of you said a word about it. 

—

After class, you head out of the room, your mind still lingering on the awkward exchange. As you walk down the hallway, you notice Sunghoon a few paces behind you, his expression neutral. You don’t turn around, but you can feel his presence. It;s the same as always, but somehow it’s different.

The hallway stretches ahead of you both, and you find yourself wondering if it’s the same for him, if he’s feeling the same weight of the unsaid words hanging in the air between you. But then you push the thought away. You can’t keep thinking about it. Not now. Not like this.

The day continues, but it doesn’t feel the same. Something has shifted again. Not a big thing, just the subtle change in the air whenever Sunghoon is around. But for now, you focus on the present. The project. The work. There’s no room for anything else. At least not yet. 

—

Sunghoon hated studying in public places. He hated the noise, the crowded spaces, the way it was impossible to concentrate. But for some reason, he was here.

With you.

The library was dimly lit, the only sounds coming from the occasional turning of pages and the soft clicking of keyboards. It was nearly empty at this hour, just the two of you tucked away in a corner, buried under textbooks and notes.

You sighed dramatically, stretching your arms over your head before slumping onto the desk. “I’m going to die here.”

Sunghoon didn’t look up from his notes. “You say that every time we study.”

“Yeah, and one day it’ll be true. And when that day comes, I hope you feel bad about it.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Dramatic.”

You turned your head to look at him, resting your cheek against your arm. The lamplight softened his features, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, the curve of his nose, the way his lashes cast faint shadows on his skin. 

He was so pretty.

Unfairly so.

You frowned, furrowing your brows. “Do you know you’re pretty?”

That finally made him look up. He blinked at you, pen pausing mid-air. “What?”

“What?”

There was a flicker of something in his expression— surprise, amusement, something unreadable. He tilted his head slightly. “I don’t think about that kind of stuff.”

You scoff. “Oh shut up.”

Sunghoon shook his head, turning back to his notes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“Because it’s a weird question.”

“It’s not weird.” You sighed, pushing yourself up onto your elbows. “I just think it’s unfair that some people get to be smart and pretty.”

His lips twitched, like he was trying not to smile. “You’re calling me smart too?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

You hadn’t meant anything by it. It was just a passing thought, casual observation. But for some reason. Sunghoon kept stealing glances at you for the rest of the night, his fingers tapping idly against his notebook, like he was trying to figure something out. 

—

The library is quieter than usual tonight. The steady hum of air conditioning fills the space, and the dim, golden glow of the desk lamps casts long shadows on the wooden tables. It’s late— too late to still be working— but neither of you have left.

At first, you barely acknowledged each other. The project was the only thing keeping you here and even then, you refused to speak unless absolutely necessary. You typed your sections. He worked on his. Simple.

But at some point, between the furious clicking of keys and the scratching of his pen against paper, something shifted. 

The silence wasn’t as sharpe anymore. The air between you wasn’t quite so cold.

You were still stubborn, still keeping your distance, but Sunghoon had started to slip through the cracks. 

It was in the way he quietly slid your match closer when he noticed you reaching for it absentmindedly. In the way his eyes lingered a second longer than necessary whenever you furrowed your brows at the screen, lost in thought. In the way he wordlessly handed you a new pen when yours ran out of ink, his fingers brushing yours just for a second.

Little things.

Things you didn’t want to acknowledge.

Things that made it harder to pretend that you hadn’t missed this— missed him.

You force yourself to focus on the words in front of you, but your mind is elsewhere. On him. On the past. 

—

It had been a long night.

You weren’t supposed to stay out this late, but somehow, time slipped away. It was just the two of you, walking home after an evening study session, the sky stretched out in a blanket of deep navy blue. The air was crisp, autumn settling in with a quiet chill, and your footsteps echoed against the empty sidewalk.

“I can’t feel my fingers,” you muttered, shoving your hands into your hoodie pockets.

Sunghoon glanced at you, amused. “Then why didn’t you bring gloves?”

“Because I didn’t know it’d be this cold.”

“You say that every year.”

You huffed, nudging him with your shoulder. “And every year, I am caught off guard.”

He rolled his eyes but reached for your sleeve, tugging your arm towards him. Before you could react, he took one of your hands in his, tucking it into the pocket of his jacket along with his own.

The warmth of his palm against yours sent a shiver up your spine— not from the cold, but from something else. 

Something you hadn’t quite named yet.

Neither of you said anything about it. You just kept walkin, the streelights casting soft golden halos around you.

You reached your doorstep too soon. 

Sunghoon stood there, shifting on his feet, his fingers still loosely curled around yours.

You should’ve pulled away. You should’ve said goodnight. But instead, you just stood there staring at him.

The light from the porch illuminated the sharp angles of his face, the way his dark eyes softened when they met yours. His gaze flickered down— just for a second— before he quickly looked away.

You swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of how close you were. “Are you gonna keep standing there, or—”

“Shut up,” he muttered.

And then—-

He kissed you. 

It was hesitant, barely a whisper of contact. But it sent your heart into a frenzy, your breath hitching, fingers tightening around him without thinking. 

When he pulled away, his ears were red, and he wouldn’t meet your eyes. “I— I wasn’t planning to do that.”

You blinked at him, mind still catching up. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” you repeated, this time smiling.

Sunghoon exhaled, sometimes easing his shoulders.

“You;re still holding my hand.” you pointed out. 

He let go immediately, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Shut up.”

But you could see the way the corners of his lips twitched upwards. 

—

You stare at the screen in front of you, but the words are a blur. The memory lingers, making your chest feel tight.

Sunghoon shifts besides you stretching out his arms. His sleeves push up slightly, revealing the faint outline of veins along his forearms. You look away quickly, annoyed with yourself. 

This is ridiculous.

You don’t care. You don’t.

“Take a break,” he says, voice low.

You exhale, rubbing at your temples. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

You shoot him a glare, but he’s already looking back at his screen, unaffected. Typical. 

Silence settles between you again, but it’s different now. He’s too close, the air between you too charged. 

And then—

“Do you still hate me?”

Your breath catches. The question is quiet, but it feels deafening.

You turn to him, meeting his gaze for the first time in what feels like hours. His eyes are steady, but there’s something else there— something raw, something careful. 

You open your mouth, but no words come out.

He swallows. “ you won’t even look at me.”

You force yourself to scoff, to roll your eyes. “I look at you all the time.”

“Not like before.”

That makes you freeze.

Because he’s right. 

Before— before everything— you had looked at him like he held the universe in his hands. And maybe, in some ways, he had.

But that was then.

And now—

Now you don’t know what to do with this version of him, this version of you.

The air is thick with something you don’t want to name. 

And before you can think better of it, before you can stop yourself—

You kiss him. 

It's reckless, desperate, a collision of past and present, of things left unsaid and things you don’t want to admit.

His lips part slightly in surprise, but he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he leans in, his fingers grazing your jaw, like he’s afraid to break the moment.

And maybe you are too. 

But then—

Reality crashed back in.

Your eyes widen, and you pull away abruptly, breathless, heart hammering.

Sunghoon blinks, still processing, “Wait—”

But you’re already pushing away from the table, standing up too quickly, your chair scraping against the floor.

“I have to go,” you say, voice unsteady.

And before he can stop you, before he can say anything else—

You turn and walk away.

Leaving him sitting there, watching you go.

Again. 

—

Avoidance has always been your best defense.

You mastered it after the breakup, convincing yourself that if you could just stay out of Sunghoon’s orbit, then none of it— none of the pain, none of the unanswered questions, none of him— could touch you.

But ever since that kiss, it’s been impossible to keep up the act.

You stop sitting in your usual spots in the library. You change your walking routes between classes. You leave early to avoid any chance of running into him. Your emails about the project become even shorter, even more detached.

And still— it doesn’t feel like enough

Because the problem isn’t just him.

It’s you.

It’s the way your mind keeps replaying that night in the library, the way your lips still burn with the memory of his, the way your chest aches everytime you think about how you didn’t pull away immediately.

You shouldn’t have let it happen.

You shouldn’t have wanted it to.

But worst of all— you shouldn’t still want it now.

You tell yourself this over and over again. But nine of it matters when you turn the corner one evening, only to find yourself face-to-face with the one person you’ve been trying so hard to avoid. 

Sunghoon.

Waiting for you.

Like he knew.

“You’re avoiding me again,” he says, his voice eerily calm.

You grip your bag tighter and look away. “I’m busy.”

“Liar.”

The word lands heavier than it should.

You take a step back, but he matches it, blocking your way. His eyes search yours, and you can feel how tired he is— tired of the silence, of the pretending, of whatever this is. 

“Do you hate me that much?” His voice is quiet, but there’s an edge to it, something sharp and desperate. 

You exhale hardly. “Sunghoon—”

“Just answer me,” he pressed, jaw clenched. “Do you hate me?”

The words catch in your throat. 

You should say yes. You should give him the finality he seems to be looking for. 

But you can’t. 

And maybe he sees it— maybe he sees the way you falter, the way your fingers tighten around the strap of your bag— because his expression shifts.

And then—

The door beside you suddenly swings open. A group of students spills out, laughing and chatting, shoving past both of you. 

You barely register it before someone crashes into you from behind, sending you stumbling backwards—

Right into the supply closet.

And of course— because the universe must hate you— the force of it slams Sunghoon into the tiny space as well. 

And before either of you can react— click.

The door locks

Silence.

Then—

“You have got to be kidding me,” you hiss. 

Sunghoon tries the handle, but it doesn’t budge. He exhales sharply, resting his forehead against the door for a second before turning back to you. 

“Great.”

You let out a bitter laugh, crossing your arms. “What, you think I planned this?”

“No, but it’s convenient, isn’t it?” He glares at you, frustration bleeding into every word. “You’re always running away, and now you can’t.”

Your pulse spikes. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he mutters. “You left the night. You’ve been avoiding me ever since. You won’t even talk to me—”

“Because there’s nothing to say!” you snap.

“Bullshit!” His voice rises, his patience unraveling. “Don’t act like you don’t care. You kissed me, and then you ran away like it meant nothing.”

You freeze.

Because he’s right.

It wasn’t nothing.

But admitting that? Giving him that satisfaction? You can’t.

So you do what you do best. 

You push back

“You don’t get to act like you’re the victim here, Sunghoon,” you say, voice colder now. “Not when you broke up with me.”

Something flickers across his face.

“And not just that,” you continue, the weight of everything you’ve bottled up finally breaking through. “You left me without any warning. You didn’t talk to me about what was wrong. You didn’t even try. You just decided one day that it was over and that was it.”

—

It had been an ordinary afternoon. You remember it oo well— how he wouldn’t look at you, how his hands trembled slightly as he shoved them into his pockets.

And then—

“I think we should break up.”

The words hit you like a slap.

You laughed at first, thinking it was some sort of joke. But then you saw the way he avoided your gaze. The way his fingers curled into fists.

“Why?” Your voice had cracked. “What happened? Did I do something?”

He had only shaken his head. “It’s just…. I don’t think this is going to work.”

“What—”

“I am not sure I am what you really need.”

It was the last thing you expected to hear.

But it was the only explanation he ever gave you.

That's what started it, why you just started running away from him. 

—

“You thought it wouldn’t work?” you glare at him now, eye burning. “What the hell does that even mean?”

Sunghoon pressed his lips together, like he regretted saying it. But it’s too late.

“You didn’t even give us a chance,” you continue, voice rising. “You just decided that it wasn’t going to work out for the both of us.” 

“I wasn’t sure if I was what you really needed.”

Your breath catches. “Sunghoon—”

“You’re always surrounded by people. You make friends so easily. I wasn’t like that, I am not like that.” His voice is quiet now. “I feel like I was always holding you back.”

You shake your head, feeling something sharp and painful twist in your chest. “That’s what you thought?” You let out another bitter laugh. “You know, I thought that’s what brought us together. That we were so different. That worked because of that.”

Sunghoon looks at you then, something unreadable in his expression. 

“There were two people in our relationship, you and me. You made that decision that we don’t work well, for the both of us.” you say, voice shaking. “And now you think it’s going to work now just because you want it to?”

He doesn’t answer. 

And you hate how much that silence still hurts.

You exhale shakily, turning away. “I don’t trust you., Sunghoon.”

His jaw clenches. “I know.”

“And I don’t trust myself to let this happen again. Because if you could leave that easily once, what makes you think I believe you won’t do it again?”

This time, he doesn’t try to deny it. 

Because he knows.

Because he did leave. 

And you don’t know if you’ll ever be able to forgive him for that. You hated yourself for never being able to hate him at all. 

The only sound in the tiny space is the faint buzz of the overhead light—

And the deafening weight of everything left unsaid. 

The supply closet is cold, but the tension in the air is suffocating. When the door finally swings open, neither of you move right away. Sunghoon steps back first, his jaw clenched, like he’s holding back something he’ll never say. You follow a second later, not looking at him as you walk away.

After that, things are different.

You don’t avoid him anymore. Not really. You still exchange emails about the project, still sit across from each other in the library, still in the same space without outright hostility. But the sharpness between you dulls— replaced by something softer, something sadder. 

One night, long after the library should’ve closed, you look up from your notes to see Sunghoon staring at you. He doesn’t look away this time. Neither do you. For a moment, the world stills. 

Then you blink, and the moment is gone.

—

The project ends.

So does your reason to stay in each other’s orbits.

You expect things to go back to normal, whether normal is supposed to be. You expect distance to creep back in, the silence to settle. 

But somehow, Sunghoon lingers. 

He doesn’t force conversation, doesn’t push. But you catch him in the corners of your vision— watching, waiting, hesitation. As if he’s waiting for you to decide what happens next.

—

Then one evening, you run into him.

It’s late. The air is cold, thick with the scent of winter. Sunghoon is standing outside the campus gates, hands shoved into his pockets, the street lights casting long shadows around him. He notices you before you can turn away.

“Hey,” he says, voice quiet.

You hesitate. Then, “Hey.”

There’s so much unsaid between you, so much left unfinished. 

A part of you wonders— is this it? The last conversation before you both fade from each other’s lives completely?

Sunghoon opens his mouth, like he wants to say something more, but you shake your head, stopping him. 

“It’s okay.” you say. “You don’t have to.”

His throat bobs as he swallows. He nods.

The streetlamps flicker above you. A car passes, its headlights flashing between you like a border, a final dividing line. 

You should say something else. You should tell him you’ll see him around, that you’ll stay in touch, that you’ll find your way back to him someday.

But you don’t.

Instead you step back, offering a small, almost imperceptible smile.

“Take care, okay?”

For a second, you think he won’t respond. But then, finally— softly— he nods.

“You too.”

You turn around first. You don’t look back.

Sunghoon watches you walk away, his hands still in his pockets, his lips parts like he wants to stop you— but he never does.

The night swallows the both of you whole.

And just like that, it’s over. 

—

The city hums in silence in the distance, but here, on the rooftop, it’s quiet/ the two of you sit side by side, legs dangling over the edge, the skyline stretching endlessly before you. The night is warm, the stars barely visible through the glow of streetlights. 

“You’re gonna fall,” Sunghoon murmurs, eyeing the way you lean forwards slightly, hands bracing against the ledge. 

You grin, tilting your head towards him. “You’d catch me.”

He doesn’t answer, but the corner of his mouth twitches, like he wants to smile but won’t let himself.

A soft breeze ruffles his hair. You reach out before you can stop yourself, fingers brushing through the strand, smoothing them down. Sunghoon stills at the touch, but he doesn’t pull away. 

“You do that a lot,” he says after a moment.

“What?” 

“Touch my hair.”

You blink, your hand dropping back to your lap. “Does it bother you?”

He exhales, looking away, down at the glittering streets below. “No.”

That’s all he says. But in the way his fingers clench slightly against his knee, in the way his shoulders stay tense even as the night air cools his skin— you realize something.

Sunghoon likes it.

He likes being close to you.

The thought makes your chest feel warm, something soft and fluttering settling behind your ribs. You don’t say anything about it, don’t tease or push. Instead, you lean back on your palms staring up at the sky. 

“Feels like we could stay here forever,” you murmur.

Sunghoon glances at you, his expression unreadable.

Then, so quietly you almost don’t hear it—

“Yeah.” 

-

author's note: basically everything in here thats inpso from irl with my actaully ex. the water bottle incident but it was in a classroom. us actually having fucking class with each other the next semester. me running away constantly every time i see him now. me buying him a pencil as a present and him still using it (i really want to steal it back). him asking me if i hate him cuz i keep running away and even dragged a friend as i run away from him. him saying "i dont think it's going to work out" and thinking becuase im very outgoing and him being a big introvert was something that would lead to us breaking up, haha but it was just him and him not communicating with me about his feelings. el oh el.

[vervainandspritz]

CRAWLING BACK TO YOU

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Word count: 4k

Warnings: drinking, swearing, feelings, friends to lovers trope kind of

Notes: Guys thanks for 400 follows love y'all

Was it possible to get used to a life so bizarrely unusual and different to find it… peaceful? Feeling her lungs fill out with fresh air when in reality every piece of clothing Y/N owned was sprinkled with ash of the wild flame that the Shelby family was?

People were scared of getting burned, naturally. Fading in and out of her life as soon as they'd find out she was associated with Peaky blinders.

At first it bothered her, oh, so much. That people didn't see a thing about her besides her association. Now, she was years into the strange peace she found in one of the most dangerous cities in Britain, with a gun settled in her hand so frequently it fit better than the several sets of leather gloves she owned.

A matter running so deep in her mind, she found herself touching it over and over, sometimes with a glimmer in her eyes.

…or like that day, sitting in the Garrison with her gaze fixated on a glass in her hand. Mentally fiddling with the churning in her stomach as his blue eyes filled her head all over again. The room was as loud as ever, accompanied by both men and women in questionable states of sobriety, laughs and conversations that didn't matter. Not one bit.

An upcoming weekend allowed people of Birmingham to loosen up, shake off the tension from the hard work they've been holding in their tired bones.

Nobody seemed to notice when the door swung open, allowing cold air of a Friday night to seep in. Nobody but her.

Footsteps echoed quietly, going unnoticed in the loud crowd but Y/N knew exactly who came in despite her eyes remaining on her glass of rum.

”Y/N, what do you think about him?” A voice came to her ears suddenly, a slight nudge to her side bringing her out of the weird state.

”Hmm?” She asked before quickly glancing at her friend, gaze looking for clues as to not show her disinterest. Emily rolled her eyes with a sigh, dramatically slumping her shoulders.

”Don’t tell me you just zoned out, again, after I just spent five minutes explaining the matter.” She raised her eyebrows while her blue eyes narrowed for a moment before she sighed again. ”Alright. You're lucky I can't be mad at you. What's wrong?” Y/N’s demeanour seemed to be a little different than usual, and knowing her for so long, Emily immediately picked on it.

Okay, maybe not immediately, she thought, but eventually she got there.

Y/N cleared her throat, a chuckle pushing past her lips before she pushed her glass away.

”Nothing really. I haven't eaten much today, and alcohol hit me harder than usual.” Came out of her mouth so smoothly, despite being just partially true.

”And it absolutely doesn't have anything to do with the pack of wolves you surround yourself with, does it?”

Just like that Y/N loosened up again, laughing at the way Emily always so easily joked about them so lightheartedly, as nobody else would dare. ”Speaking of the devil” she added with a smirk, glancing towards the door. ”Yours just appeared. Right on time as well, because I need to wrap it up and go home. Betty refuses to sleep when I'm not home.” Y/N sighed, feeling bad for not paying attention before Emily had to leave.

”Of course,” She nodded, ”Arthur will drive you home” Y/N said, as usual but Emily shook her head while making a funny face.

”Absolutely not! Send the younger one. Arthur can't seem to understand I'm married,” She rolled her eyes with a giggle as she nudged Y/N’s side. ”I’ll wait outside”

As the taller woman walked away, Y/N threw back the remaining liquor and took a deep breath before she got up, looking around.

Before she spotted the Shelby brothers, she felt a heavy gaze on her back which admittedly made things easier. Turning around, her eyes met Tommy's from the other side of the room. He was sober while she clearly already had a few, her gaze a bit softer around the edges. Making her way to their table, she took a deep breath once again.

”John,” Y/N greeted him first with a smile, “would you kindly drive Emily home tonight?” her speech came out a little smoother than usual, tension from her voice long gone which showed her state, already a bit softened by alcohol.

“I don't mind driving her,” Arthur abruptly interjected.

“No, no that's all right Art you're in no state to drive clearly.” She stated firmly with a hint of humour in her voice. His brows shot up.

”I just had ONE drink! Are you mad?” He asked pretentiously with a huff, making John laugh.

”Seems like you need to try harder, aye!” The younger brother chuckled before getting up and standing by Y/N.

”Sure thing, Darling, but you owe me a drink” He winked, making her roll her eyes playfully.

”Sure thing” She repeated, mockingly.

”Someone already had a few” Tommy interjected suddenly, a hint of teasing in his voice, but one only Y/N could pick up on.

”Oh, and you're here as well” She replied, her gaze meeting his once again with that mischievous glimmer. ”Found time to spend among us, Mr. Shelby?”

Thomas watched her for a moment before slowly but surely one corner of his lips twitched in sort of a smirk.

”Sit down before I kick you out of my pub, eh?” He patted the free space where John was sitting just a few moments ago.

And so she did, ignoring his comment while pouring herself a glass of whisky with a smirk. One thing that never changed between them were their verbal skirmishes. Ever since the young blue eyed boy chased her with a stick dipped in the mud, devilishly proud of himself while at it.

Arthur kept mumbling to himself about the unfairness of the situation, unserious as ever. Pouring himself another drink, he glanced at Y/N, feeling her amused look on him.

”Don’t need me as a driver, so let the man be, would you?” He threw in a snarky remark with a hint of amusement, to which she lifted her hands in the air in a gesture of surrender.

”Wouldn’t dare to tell you what to do, old man”

a smirk slowly spread on his face and so the game began all over again. Soon John came back along with other Blinders crowding the table as they drank, talked and had fun just like always while making sure everything in the pub was going just fine.

Y/N’s nonchalant, easygoing aura was strong as ever when Tommy's eyes drifted towards her every now and then. Time was passing by quickly when they had fun simultaneously drinking.

Nights like these were secretly meaningful to all the Shelby's, giving them space and time to forget for a little while about the heavy responsibilities and dangers of their day to day life. It was one of the instances where people could see Tommy slightly let his guard down as the alcohol affected his mind, causing him to behave more freely in a less controlled environment.

A lazy smile appeared on Y/N’s face as she chuckled listening to the colourful stories, obviously enhanced into dramatic details to be more entertaining. She liked seeing them like this, these fleeting moments of freedom making each of the men by the table turn into these young boys she used to know long years ago without the scarring of life they all carried nowadays.

Reaching for a pack of cigarettes sitting on the table, Y/N plucked one for Tommy, putting it into his hand out of habit without even thinking. One of those things she'd do even under the influence, with her better judgement clouded almost completely.

Without looking at her, Tommy put it between his lips, reaching for matches to light her cigarette before his own. The gestures were so natural nobody even noticed.

Putting the little box back on a table, Thomas let his hand fall down, landing on her thigh as his fingers began slowly stroking her soft skin mindlessly as he spoke to Isaiah across the table.

Her eyes drifted briefly on his face, grazing over his strong features and the way his lips remained formed in a relaxed smile as he spoke when suddenly another person got her attention.

A man in the background, about ten feet away from them, stood with a woman, kissing her cheek as she hugged him quickly before disappearing in the crowd.

His familiar features and cocky grin immediately sparked her interest, as she recognised Paul, a good friend of hers who happened to be delivering ingredients to her bakery everyday.

Seeing her, he moved closer before finally standing by the table.

“Evening, Y/N” He spoke up, nodding towards the men who quickly realized he was familiar with her, so not a bother. ”Care to go for a smoke with me?” He suggested, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat. His light hair dishevelled, eyes shiny from the small amount of alcohol he had as well.

Tommy's hand remained on her thigh, only slipping away as she moved towards the exit.

”Lead the way” She responded, grabbing her coat as well as her eyes briefly met John's who was clearly having a good time tormenting her whenever a man would show any interest.

”See you tomorrow then, aye, Y/N?” John called after her with mischief in his voice followed by a chuckle from Arthur.

She just shook her head with amusement before they disappeared through the door.

Tommy straightened his back, reaching for another cigarette to light, nodding to Isaiah to pour another drink.

”Well..” John started off, clearing his throat, ”At least someone gets some action today” elbowing his brother to the side he laughed, reminding Arthur of the failure in pursuing Emily. One of many.

”Already told you to fuck off, didn't I?” He responded, rolling his eyes before shoving him back.

Tommy remained quiet, his mood taking a hit from Y/N’s abrupt exit with another fella. His emotions usually kept at bay, now strengthened by the alcohol, grew to an alarming size in his head.

Throwing back another glass of whisky he relaxed into the seat once again, barely listening to the conversation as he zoned out, consumed by his contradictory thoughts.

Not long after he decided enough was enough, raising from the seat slowly, letting his brothers know he'd be going back home as tomorrow he had business to attend, as usual. It took a moment for his eyes to regain focus as whisky affected him a bit more than usual, perhaps because once again he forgot to eat anything substantial throughout the day.

Saying his goodbyes Tommy pulled his cap onto his head, walking through the crowd as people parted, not wanting to disrespect the mobster.

Cold air of the night hit him as soon as the door swung open, his eyes getting used to the darkness fairly quickly as he gazed towards his vehicle, simultaneously searching for keys in his pocket.

Making his way to the car he squinted, trying to grasp the right key which was a bit of a challenge in his current state. Getting a hold of the right one, he suddenly dropped the keys hearing a familiar voice behind his back.

”You’re absolutely not driving in this state” Y/N said, grabbing his arm.

”Fuck!” Tommy groaned, eyeing the fallen item. He could barely see them, wiping his eyes he turned towards Y/N. ”I dropped my fucking keys” He informed her, as if she wasn't a witness to this situation.

His balance was slightly off as he narrowed his cloudy eyes, obviously blaming her for what just happened. His drunken state made Y/N unable to hold in a giggle as she rolled her eyes stepping closer. Bending over she grabbed them, choosing the right key as she opened the door on the driver's side, slipping into the seat.

He stood there, his brows raised in a question which she immediately answered.

“I told you. You're not driving. Get into the car before you'll have to walk.” Her voice was lighthearted as she held his gaze.

Thomas tilted his head to the side, the small hint of bitterness making it through his exterior.

”Don’t you have places to be?” He asked, obviously hinting at the man she left with, making Y/N roll her eyes once again on his dramatics.

”Tommy get in the car” She repeated, knowing there was no point in arguing with him over whatever In his current state.

He stood for another longer moment before finally sighing and making his way around to the other side, sitting on the passenger seat. Tilting his head back he let it rest, closing his eyes.

Y/N let her eyes linger on his face for a moment before taking a deep breath and starting the engine.

They didn't say a word throughout the whole drive, and only later she realized Tommy fell asleep. Parking the car she leaned closer, touching his shoulder.

”Come on, let's get inside” She whispered, watching as he slowly opened his eyes in an awfully adorable way.

She bit back the smile as he nodded, mumbling something before climbing out of the car.

She grabbed his arm wanting to help him walk, but he pulled it back, telling her he was perfectly capable of walking alone. Stubborn as always.

A couple minutes later she shed her coat, pulling his own off of him as well along with the cap, making him roll his eyes.

”You realize I'm not that drunk, eh?” He asked, seeing her behaviour.

”I’m not allowed to help, am I?” She shot back, grabbing his hand as she pulled him towards the stairs leading up to his bedroom. ”Oh, and by the way, no. I've got no places to be so I'm staying over.” She stated, completely unfazed and with enough attitude to make him laugh out loud.

”Good to know” He replied, letting her pull him along. Despite his stubbornness, they both knew it happened more times than they'd be able to count. Their relationship was so specific in ways other people wouldn't understand… and neither of them seemed to be ready to admit it.

Thomas was on the edge of bed, groaning as he took off his boots. Y/N walked across the room, opening the wardrobe as she found her own shelf.

He watched her as she pulled out his shirt and her shorts, knowing well she'd be sleeping in this set. Thomas realized he couldn't remember the time before she was in his life. Before the top shelf was hers, filled with pieces of clothing he never cared to move.

She moved around so confidently, knowing exactly where everything was. It brought him a weird sense of comfort, even though his face remained in a neutral expression as she looked back.

”Do you need help changing or are you perfectly capable of doing that too, Mr. Shelby?” She asked, matching his neutral expression along with a professional tone of voice, obviously teasing him.

He shook his head slightly, letting out a sigh as he finally smirked. Looking at her for a longer moment, Tommy let his eyes linger on her body before meeting her eyes again.

”Are you trying to take advantage of me, Dove?” He asked, his voice clearly lower and with intent as he gave her the smile, one he learned long ago worked on women ever since he was a boy.

Y/N chuckled, approaching him to the point where he had to tilt his head back so their eyes could meet. Leaning down to his level, she started unbuttoning his shirt.

”I wouldn't dare” Her voice was calm, even though she felt everything but calm seeing him looking at her like this. Unable to put up the walls that usually surrounded him when he was sober. The tension seemed to grow rapidly as she was halfway down, eyes focused on the task but Tommy's gaze had her face turn slightly red which was not visible in the dim light luckily.

Stepping back, she looked up at him.

”You take care of that, and I'm going to change. Try not to fall, eh?” She teased with a smirk, walking into the bathroom.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Y/N took a deep breath, leaning forward as she needed a moment. She was very aware of the tension surrounding them the whole night and as she stood in front of him, with his eyes gazing at her this way, it felt more dangerous than ever before despite the fact they were bordering on this line for years now.

Everything felt stronger lately and she was.. more anxious than anything.

Looking up she caught her reflection, silently grazing over her face and body before sighing deeply as she turned around, swiftly changing into his shirt and her shorts.

Returning to the room, she looked up to check whether he was sleeping and surprisingly, Tommy was laying on the bed, shirtless and wearing only his undergarments. His arm was draped over his head, eyes closed but the tension in his shoulders was visible. Y/N knew he wasn't sleeping, but she didn't want to risk anything more after today so she let him be, turning off the lights as she moved around the bed, slipping on the other side.

His bed was big, more than big enough for the two of them. Y/N and Tommy never had an issue sleeping together even back when they were teenagers, sharing a bed in his small room in Small Heath.

She covered herself with a blanket, facing away from him for a while, attempting to get comfortable but the silence was deafening. She heard him move and turn as well, looking for a position comfortable enough to sleep in. Minutes were passing and Y/N was still wide awake, unable to even close her eyes for longer than a moment with the amount of thoughts running through her head.

The clock was ticking, and she looked through the big window, moonlight seeping in through the blinds and she still yet to be comfortable enough to feel even remotely tired.

Eventually the frustration took over and she sighed with annoyance, slowly sitting up. Y/N desperately wanted to sleep, as it would be the easy way out. Making it to the morning and hoping the infatuation would pass or fade away into something more bearable, just like always.

The moon looked beautiful that night, she thought, as she heard him move in a different way this time. The mattress dipped closer and she felt him sitting right behind her, the warmth of his body contrasting to the coldness of her hands caused by anxiety.

Her heart started thumping wildly in her chest, the anticipation almost took much to handle, shivers running down her spine as his breath touched her skin.

Yet she didn't dare to look at him, stubbornly keeping her eyes fixated on the view while he moved closer.

After a longer moment his fingers grasped her chin, making her look at him. Tommy felt the stirring too, somewhere in his chest, and the desperation seemed completely impossible to escape.

Forcing her to look at him, he moved closer. His face seemed even more unreal that way, kissed by the moonlight in the middle of the night causing her to sigh weakly.

He didn't move either, not for a while as they watched, fixated like it was the very first time, even though they knew each other’s features by heart. From her chin his fingers moved to cup her cheek instead, feeling the subtle warmth of her skin.

Lost in the moment Y/N sighed, his face so close to her own she could see every detail. Every scar and freckle decorating his skin. Her lips parted slightly as she tried to catch a breath, but his presence and warmth felt so.. overwhelming in a way she couldn't describe. A warmth she grew to associate with safety while simultaneously feeling like she's gambling every time they're close.

His arms wrapped around her tighter, pulling her on his lap with one hand holding her hip while the other cupped her cheek so roughly. Delicate caresses of his calloused fingers feeling better than she cared to admit. She couldn't think properly while his firm chest was pressed against her soft bosom, his lips ghosting over her jaw.

”Y/N” He whispered, Tommy's hot breath against her skin making her shiver and her eyes fall shut.

She moved her hand on top of his, trying to ground herself. Chaotic snippets of moments and thoughts running through her puzzled mind as her core ached for his touch.

”Look at me” He spoke again, tilting her head down to look him in the eyes. His own were barely open, pupils blown out with need as he stared at her with something she couldn't really understand. Failing to keep herself at bay, Y/N slowly leaned down, their breaths mingling and noses touched. She could feel the ghost of his soft lips touching hers, but couldn't quite force herself to let him have her. Again.

“Why do you keep doing this?” She whispered breathlessly, her other hand grasping his shoulder so hard she thought he might bruise.

Thomas' breath hitched, and he stopped moving for a moment, frozen as he realized the sense of her question. His heart began racing but he kept holding her so close, panting against her lips as he tried to search for an answer in his mind, which now seemed to be.. empty.

Y/N squeezed her eyes painfully hard waiting for an answer that seemed to never come before letting go of his shoulder with a humourless chuckle. Pulling his hands away from her she raised from his lap, quickly fixing her blouse before grabbing her black coat from the chair.

”Y/N” He spoke up, his voice gravely with disappointment aimed nowhere but at himself. ”Y/N, don't go” Tommy tried to convince, attempting to grasp her wrist but she slipped easily, seemingly between his fingers.

Like she always did.

”Goodnight, Tommy”

~~~

The whole next day Y/N threw herself into a bunch of work, whether it was around the house or finishing up the new recipes she prepared to introduce in her bakery the upcoming week.

By the end of the day she was covered in flour, but her apartment was squeaky clean. Her hair was a complete mess when she saw herself in the mirror, making her chuckle. She was physically tired but mentally proud of herself for taking her mind off of the blue eyed man so successfully.

…and then her phone rang. It was late, way too late for any other person to call, so subconsciously she knew it was him. Silently cursing herself for it, she picked up.

”Hello?” Y/N asked nevertheless but she didn't hear anything else for a moment before he cleared his throat.

”Because I can't force myself to let you go” Thomas spoke up, his words a little blurred, gravelly with the weight of his confession. ”...and I'm tired of pretending. This needs to end.” A moment of silence seemed to stretch into eternity, but Tommy knew she was listening. He could hear her breathing. As Y/N finally found some words, wanting to respond, he hang up.

She stood there, frozen for a couple moments, holding the phone as if he was still on the other side. What are you talking about, she wanted to ask, but Y/N knew what he meant. Despite her asking yesterday, it intimidated her a little to hear it from him. They never confronted each other before, but.. her heart swelled with the emotion she was never able to express before.

Suddenly a loud knock on the door came to her ears, her heart froze still for a moment before she opened it.

His eyes were bright, raw and vulnerable as he held her eye contact.

“Can I come in?”

[beomiracles]

𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 TAPE 05

𝓓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝓔𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 ⸝⸝ Moving rapidly through your career as one of the leading female investigators, you never once encountered a case you couldn't crack. Though you never expected for your past mistakes to come back and haunt you in the form of an ex lover, accused of murder. ⸝⸝

𝓹airings criminal!beomgyu x detective!reader 𝔀arnings references to sexual encounters, blood, mentions of injuries, drinking, red-flag reader (?), no warnings just vibes idk man leave me alone im going to cry.

📼 THE TAPE RECORDINGS

𝓣𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝓢𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 contains dark themes portraying unhealthy and toxic relationships and substance abuse. reader discretion is advised ! — this story is partly told in flashbacks, beware of timestamps as past/present are mixed throughout the story.

#serene adds ✎.. the last scene was so god awful hard for me to write for some unknown reason... oh well! I got it out, I'm alive, all is well :3

[ ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။| TAPE 05 ] — Bloody Bodies recording legnth; 6.4k + PLAYLIST

⸝⸝

📼 — April 29th 2022

“So… What happens now?” Your hushed question feels loud when it passes your swollen lips. Gingerly pulling your panties back on, you cringe at the sticky feeling of the damp fabric against your skin. Beomgyu remains silent next to you as he leans back against the brick wall. For a moment, you wonder if your question had been a stupid one to ask. 

It’s not until you move closer to him, your arm brushing against his that he tilts his head your way, one of his brows tugging upward. “Is something supposed to happen?” He echoes in an almost monotone voice. — Confused, you glance between him and the door only a few steps away. “Are you not going back inside?” 

For the past ten minutes you had been trying to come up with an excuse, rather an explanation to deliver in front of Kayla once you walked back inside the club with Beomgyu. She would be mad, undoubtedly so and your mind raked with different scenarios and outcomes. What would you tell her? Would you even get the chance to introduce him, would he even want you to? Maybe he would just take off as soon as you stepped inside. 

“No.” 

His sigh is like a stone brick thrown right at you, hitting you across the face and leaving an ugly bruise. You blink, in complete disbelief as your gaze darts back toward him. But you had just spent ten whole minutes worrying about what to say. And he wasn’t even going back in? — “You’re not?” It was impossible to hide the disappointment in your voice and you’re almost certain he picked up on it. 

Beomgyu shakes his head before letting it tilt back against the wall behind him. You knew that he was waiting for you to leave, and perhaps you should. Any other day you probably would have, but today it wasn’t enough. The sex only gave you a temporary fix, you needed more. 

“Where are you going?” You straighten out your back, hands falling to your sides as they clenched into fists. You were determined to draw at least a half-assed answer out of him. Beomgyu doesn’t look at you when he replies, “Work.” 

Ah right, work. It was an easy excuse, given that you knew little to nothing about what he did for a living, or anything else regarding him for that matter. That was bound to change. 

“You work nights?” 

He hadn’t expected that question, you could tell by the way his jaw subtly clenched, his hands digging deeper into his pockets. He nods, but his eyes are fixated on something far away, something you couldn’t see. “I do sometimes”, he hums. 

Sometimes? He must work quite odd hours, for night shifts were usually on a tight and regular schedule. “Is it okay for you to drink before work?” You ask with a small frown, silently questioning his move to come here if he knew he had somewhere important to be shortly after. — But Beomgyu merely shrugs as he pushes himself off the cold wall. “I am my own boss, dollface.” His lips curl into the ghost of a smirk when he leans over to kiss your forehead. 

And just like that, he was gone again, and you were left with what seemed even more questions than you’d started with. 

⸝⸝

📼 — PRESENT TIME ; February 22th 2024

“He was a freelancer… Of sorts..” You quietly state and Yeonjun glances up from the files in front of him. “Freelance?” He repeats and you nod as your gaze returns to the photos of the crime scene before you. Your finger drags across the image of the bloodstained cough, cringing as you imagine Beomgyu, covered from head to toe in blood as he lunges at the poor victim. 

“Do you know what kind of freelance?” Your senior then wonders as he flips a page. You did. Though Beomgyu rarely, if ever, discussed work matters with you, you had still caught on to enough where you knew what kind of connections he held, what kind of person he was. — For some reason your lips betray you, “I don’t.” 

You then hastily continue, “He was gone a lot, worked odd hours, came and went.” You shrug, trying your best to divert from the topic you had brought up yourself. You don’t know why you defended him, why you felt the need to take his side. You want to be honest with Yeonjun, hell you want to be honest with yourself. Why did he have to make it so hard? 

Your last conversation a mere two days ago was still fresh in your mind. You wondered if his words actually held any weight. Was it true? Were you still loyal to him, after everything that had happened… Maybe you always will be. The thought was a scary one and you quickly pushed it away. 

Choi Beomgyu was going to prison. He had no alibi, no witnesses, and all evidence pointed at him. All you lacked now was his confession, but that proved to be more than difficult. 

“Why did you do it?” 

Your question is left hanging in the open air, and your fingers curl around the pencil in your hand as you grip it tightly. The all too familiar metal table in front of you gleams under the bright lamp hanging above, the sterile lights reflecting off of its surface. — Beomgyu sighs, sounding tired as his gaze shifts from the wall behind you and over to meet your own. But when his eyes fall on you, they seem to regain their almost mischievous glint. “You’ve got to be a little more specific than that, dollface.” 

Feeling your jaw clench as you fight to stay composed, your gaze flickers to the window on your left. As much as you wanted answers, you couldn’t risk anything with Yeonjun on the other side, listening intently to the conversation taking place. Your heart thumps loudly in your chest as you watch your reflection through the dark glass, you looked as scared as you felt. 

Following your hesitant glance, Beomgyu smirks. It was like he fed on your uncertainty. Every step you faltered allowed him to take at least three forward. You swallow, and then your attention returns to him. “Why did you kill him?” — “Hm?” He attempts to run a hand through his hair, cringing slightly when he realizes that they’re both tied together by the metal cuffs around his wrists. With the small roll of his eyes he continues, “Thought I already told you, I was cleaning up a mes-” 

“No.” 

He pauses, cocking an eyebrow as he watches you with an impassive expression. You draw in a sharp breath. Never had you interrupted him before, never had you dared to. His brows pull together, his vision narrowing if only slightly. “No?” He huffs, the disbelief in his tone evident. — You shake your head softly, the movement small, so minimal that only he could pick up on it. 

“Why did you kill him?” 

Within the four confined walls the already thick air suddenly shifted. You recognized the smirk that tugged across his lips, the way his eyes glimmered with recognition. Beomgyu leans back, his hands clasped neatly together as his thumbs roll over one another. And even though it felt as if the two of you spoke completely different languages, where words were all but an endless game of cat and mouse.. — Sometimes… It was like he could understand you perfectly, as long as you gave him reason to. 

His tongue prods against the inside of his cheek, his lip twitching and for a second it looked like he was holding back laughter. “Dollface”, he drawls, metal cuffs rattling against the metal table when he leans forward. “Why?” He echoes, “Is that what you’re dying to know?” 

Yes. But you never say it out loud. You swallow, your grip on the pencil so tight that it might just snap in half. Beomgyu picks up on it, his eyes flitting down for a second before snapping back up to yours. — You knew that Beomgyu had killed people, you knew that he had blood on his hands. You have seen it yourself. 

⸝⸝

📼 — May 11th 2022

The hotel room is dark. The expensive silk beneath you is cool to the touch and the large bed is cold, for it misses the warmth of another body next to your own. You try to swallow down the lump in your throat, but it won’t budge. It’s quiet, eerily so, and your stomach doesn’t tingle with butterflies as it usually would on a night like this. Instead it twists with dread. 

You reach for your discarded phone, its bright light stings your eyes when you re-read his message. The address was correct, the room number too. But the time… 11:45 pm. Your heart drops when your gaze flickers toward the time indicator on your screen. 

2:31 am. 

He was nearly three hours late. But Beomgyu was never late, in fact, he was always there before you. Often you had wondered how he managed to get from one location to the next, how he never seemed out of place, no matter when and where you met. But tonight things are different. — Had he changed his mind? Did he not want to see you after all? Maybe something had come up… 

Your attention fixates on the shut door. You imagine him walking through it, his dark hair falling across his even darker eyes, the everlasting smirk plastered on his lips. You imagine his voice, the nickname he had for you rolling off his tongue when his arms wrap around your waist. You imagine him kissing you, with a longing that perfectly matched your own. 

But Beomgyu never comes. 

You bite your lip, the idea of going home crossing your mind. It would be rather pathetic to wait here all alone, no? But then he would have spent money on a room left unused. Perhaps you should stay the night.. You could order room service in the morning before leaving. 

The bed frame rattles under your weight when your back reaches the mattress with a thud. Exhausted and anxious, you let your eyes fall shut as you beg for sleep to take you. Even if you worried that he would continue to haunt your nightmares. — Beomgyu always left you clueless, he kept you in the dark. But naive as you were, you thought you would one day get answers to all of your questions. If only you stayed long enough.. 

You don’t know how many hours had passed, perhaps it had been mere minutes. But it was still dark outside when the small click of the door lock startled you awake. Quickly shooting up from the bed, your back presses against the headboard as you grab onto a pillow, not that it would aid in any defense. 

The thick darkness prevents you from making out who the person lingering within the shadows was. Your heart thumps against your ribcage and your free hand blindly searches for your phone, only to freeze in your tracks when his voice cuts through the silence. — “Fuck, are you still here?” Beomgyu’s short breath instantly makes you relax and you slump back against the bed. 

Lowering the pillow from your chest, you swallow. “Sorry, should I have gone home?” You quietly wonder as you shift awkwardly on the mattress. In the everlasting darkness it was impossible to make out his expression, but you hear him heave a sigh. “No it’s fine, I… Fuck I’m sorry, dollface.” 

He takes a couple of steps forward, finally emerging from the shadows and becoming engulfed in the pale light of the moon. You find your gaze lingering by his dark figure, regarding him like it was your last chance, you never knew if it was. — The cold metal of his rings send sparks down your spine when his fingers wrap around your chin. He tilts your face back, his other hand finding a place atop your head as he studies you with a small frown. 

“I got held up at work”, he explains and your eyes widen. It was unusual of him to share as much as a word about his life outside of your encounters, even if it was just a simple apology for his tardiness.

You find yourself leaning into his touch. “It's alright”, you murmur, your eyes half lidded when you peer up at him, “You can always make it up to me.” 

Beomgyu chuckles, his hands sliding down your sides as he guides you back onto the mattress. The kisses he places to the side of your neck and down your collarbone are warm and familiar. That very warmth seeps into the cold vines that have tightened around your chest, gradually loosening them up.

You don’t question where he had been or what had made him take so long, you knew that you would never receive an answer. Instead you clung onto this fragile moment of intimacy, for you never knew if it were to be your last. 

Letting your hands trail along his still clothed chest, your fingers toy with the hem of his shirt, tugging on it as you pull him closer. Just as you’re about to push the garment up above his torso, do you freeze. There was an undeniable wet patch on the soft cotton. But when your lips part in an unspoken question, Beomgyu’s sudden kiss to your open mouth makes you lose your sense of direction. 

Allowing him to kiss you for a moment, your hands halt as your fingers nervously fiddle with his shirt. But when you find that the damp spot only grows, you can’t ignore it anymore. — “What’s that?” You half-hearted whisper against his lips, torn between satiating your burning curiosity and saving this sacred moment. 

“Hm?” Beomgyu hums against you, his kisses becoming all the more persistent in an attempt to sway your curious mind elsewhere. He ignores it when your hands brace themselves on his chest, and it’s not until you speak that he finally pulls back an inch. “Beomgyu, there’s something on your shirt..” 

With an outstretched arm you flick on the small light on the bedside table. Given a second to adjust to the warm glow, your eyes widen as soon as they fall on the dark crimson stain covering his grey shirt. — Was that… blood? 

Immediately you jerk back, your gaze flitting down to your now stained fingers. It was fresh. “Oh my god”, is all you can muster and before he has the chance to object your hands are insistently bunching his shirt up above his chest. — “Dollface”, Beomgyu tries, his fingers gently wrapping around your wrists but you merely shrug him off, all too focused on the blood smeared across his skin. 

“What happened- Are you hurt? Why didn’t you say something?” The words all come bubbling to the surface, passing your lips without crossing your mind twice. It’s not until your trembling fingers swipe across his very much untainted chest that a brief silence falls over the two of you. He doesn’t wince or draw back at your finger’s probing, because he wasn’t hurt in the first place. 

Beomgyu sighs, his hands brushing along your forearms. “It’s not mine”, he says, his voice is low, calm, as if trying to reassure you that everything was fine when it quite clearly wasn’t. How could he say something like that so casually? And what did he mean by not his? Who else if not him… 

You swallow, the sound near deafening in the otherwise quiet room. All previous desire and longing has now washed off, the heat of his kisses and his touch no longer linger. You felt cold, left with an uncanny feeling in the deepest pits of your stomach. — You refuse to look him in the eyes, “What happened?” 

He doesn’t answer right away. Was he thinking of an excuse? Was he conjuring yet another lie? Maybe he was debating on telling the truth for once. His thumbs rub soothing circles across your wrists, the small action however, had an opposite effect. You couldn’t tear your gaze from the blood, there was so much of it. 

“Told you I got held up at work didn’t I?” He finally says, pulling you close in order to press a kiss to your forehead. His words didn’t matter, they couldn’t erase the uneasiness that had begun to build inside of you. Instead you draw in a deep breath, shifting on the bed as you lean back to peer up at him. “What exactly do you do for work?” 

Beomgyu lets go of your wrists as he bites the inside of his cheek. He runs a hand through his dark hair and you intently follow the action. Whilst studying him under the faint glow of the bedside lamp, you notice just how rough he was looking, and that didn’t have to do with the blood tainting his chest. His hair was disheveled, his eyes sunken in, his skin was pale and there was a small cut on his upper lip. 

He looked exhausted. 

“It’s a business”, he begins in a low tone, drawing his words out as he talks slowly. His gaze flickers over the deep frown etched across your face and he presses the palm of his hand to your cheek. “I merely make sure that deals go through”, he says as his thumb slides between your furrowed brows, as if trying to ease your expression. 

You shake your head, unconvinced by his vague response. “What kind of business ends in you looking like that?” There’s an underlying sense of accusation to your question and despite the subtle clench of his jaw, Beomgyu continues his soft caress to your face. “Our client hurt himself, pure accident. — Had to get him help, it took longer than I expected.” 

He sends you a small smile, and you want to believe him, you really do. You want to believe that Beomgyu was just your average person, living an average life. But you knew that he wasn’t And you knew that he was lying to you right now. Beomgyu lied a lot. What you didn’t know was if his lies were good or bad intentions. 

It scared you. 

⸝⸝

📼 — May 11th 2022

You didn’t think Beomgyu was a murderer. No, that would be extreme. Yet you found yourself ignoring his messages. He’d sent two. Just like usual they had contained two separate addresses, two separate times. You’d officially stood him up twice. He told you that he was okay with it, that he didn’t mind, so you took his word for it. — On the fourth day you think he might stop, that he might grow tired of your persistent no-shows and move over to the next woman waiting on his call. But as you sit in class that very afternoon, your phone vibrates with the indication of yet another text. You felt your stomach twist. 

Of course, you were right. The second your eyes fall on the short message you completely lose track of your surroundings. He was insistent, you’d give him that. But surely this would be the last time he’d ask for you. You had spent weeks, almost two months chasing after him. Suppose a small part of you thought of this as payback. 

Perhaps that was what caused you to act without reasoning as you turned in your seat. A light tap to Taehyun’s shoulder makes his eyes divert from the board ahead and over to you. “Hm?” He asks as he taps his pencil against the pages of his notebook. You feel your lips tug into a smirk that’s familiar yet most uncharacteristic on you. 

“Do you want to go clubbing tonight?” 

Taehyun sputters at your words, his jaw slacking as he glances around like you’d just asked him to go down on you. “T-Tonight? Me and you? Clubbing?” He seems almost baffled at the proposal, even more so when you quickly nod. — “Sure why not?” You drawl as the smirk on your lips only grows. You trusted your classmate enough to share a drink or two with him. Besides, Taehyun was a good guy, there was no harm in getting to know him better was there?

He hesitates for a moment, gaze flitting between your professor by the front of the classroom and back to you. “But what about class tomorrow?” He wonders and you shake your head. “Class is canceled, didn’t you hear? Mrs Yang is ill.” — His mouth forms into a small ‘o’ shape as he hums. 

“Sure I guess… Do you have a place in mind?” 

“Are you sure you know where we are?” Taehyun sounds wary as he trails behind you, he’s like a skittish animal, ready to jump at the tiniest of sounds. He briefly stops to inspect an old street sign, only to jog after you like somewhat of a lost puppy. You, on the other hand, walk with long and determined strides, your feet carrying you through the narrow alleyway with a confidence you couldn’t quite recognize. — “Don’t worry, I’ve been here before.” 

Sure enough, the familiar entrance soon floats into vision. The same cold purple hues dance across the dark brick walls, casting the street in an eerie glow. You don’t know why you had picked this place, why it had seemed like a good idea, but now there was no going back. — You swallow the lump in your throat as images of you, walking down this very path not long ago, flashes before your eyes. 

You recognize the bouncer, the one who’d refused your entry last time. Part of your worries that he might do so again, this time you had no Beomgyu to rely on. The concept was both terrifying and freeing. This was the very first address he’d ever sent you, perhaps that was why the memory was still so vivid in your mind. Something about this place was different, special.

The sharp light of your phone screen illuminates your face as you check the message one final time. ‘Address, room number, 11:00 pm.’ You glance toward the clock on top of your screen, indicating a menacing 2:37 am. He would’ve left by now, surely pissed off with being stood up a third time, which means… Your gaze drifts toward the entrance mere feet away, the thumping rhythm of bass already drumming through your chest. 

You wanted to see Beomgyu, that was the truth. You just didn’t want to see him. The chances of catching a glimpse of him were slim, but if there was anywhere you’d be able to find him, it would be here. Why? — Well because your gut told you so. 

Taehyun grabs ahold of your arm when you make a move to approach the bouncer. “Why don’t we just go back?” He murmurs, the words coming out hushed. You shrug him off, shaking your head as you march toward the large man. This was it, you would give it your best shot. — Straightening your back, you push out your shoulders as far as they would go, your gaze narrowed when you glance up at him. 

The bouncer peers down at you through his dark sunglasses, then he frowns, lifting a finger as he pushes them down on his nose. His eyes meet yours and there’s a flash of recognition. “Miss”, he drawls, a small grin splayed across his otherwise stern face. “How delightful of you to join us tonight.” — He steps aside, allowing you both inside, though not without sending Taehyun a harsh glare. 

“Do you know him?” Your classmate asks as he stays close to you. — The smirk on your lips grows and you shrug, “Sort of.” 

The interior of the place was just like you had remembered it. The large dancefloor, the purple lights, the booths shoved against the walls, not to mention the lack of a bar as drinks were being passed around by the many waiters. — Somewhere behind you Taehyun lets out a short breath, gawking as he takes in his surroundings. But your eyes were only in search of one thing, of one person. And when you don't find him, you pull your friend along as you scour the outskirts of the crowded floor. 

Upon passing a waiter on bystand, you snag two glasses off of his plate, handing one of them to Taehyun. He seems skeptical as he peers down at his drink, “Do you even know what’s in these?” — You shake your head, “Nope.” That was the least of your concerns. 

Your eyes fall on the grand staircase when you bring the cool glass to your lips. The steps looked much different tonight than they had back then. Tonight they felt untouchable. There was no way you would be getting up there… At least now without a little help. 

“Where are you going?” Taehyun calls for you, and you hear him rushing after you as he pushes past the people in his way. You know that you should stop and give him at least a half-assed explanation, maybe even ask him to wait somewhere else. But your mind is entirely preoccupied with the sight before you. — “I’m serious, what are you-” He cuts himself off when he crashes into your shoulder, stumbling backward as he grips his drink tightly. 

You’ve stopped in front of one of the many booths lining the walls, and Taehyun peers over your shoulder as he tries to make sense of the situation. The unfamiliar faces to him are ones you recognize with fright. 

“No way”, a deep voice drawls, “Dollface, is that you?” 

Duri leans forward, his hand, previously on the thigh of the girl next to him, withdrawing as he runs it through his short hair. You feel your stomach draw into knots at the persistent use of that nickname, the one that sounded so sickeningly wrong coming from his lips. — Duri chuckles as he shakes his head in disbelief. 

“We seem to bump into one another quite a lot”, he muses, even though he knew that tonight had been no coincidence. You had come with clear intentions in mind, you were certain he could tell. — “Yes.” You send him a tight lipped smile, “So it seems.” 

You could practically feel the confusion radiate off of Taehyun as he shifts awkwardly behind you, his eyes darting between Duri and the men surrounding him. You try not to pay his presence any mind as you focus your attention on the target before you. 

“Say”, Duri leans forward as he grabs one of the drinks set aside on the table between you, “What can I do for you tonight?” 

Your lips part, the grip on your glass tightening significantly as you throw a glance over your shoulder, your eyes automatically landing on the staircase. The steps seemed to shimmer under the purple lights. Duri hums behind you, snapping your attention right back to where it should have remained all along. 

He brings his drink to his lips, taking a long sip as he peers at you over the rim of his glass. “Pray tell, what business do you have there?” He wonders as he busies himself with another sip. You shake your head, your gaze unwavering as you say, “That’s none of your concern.” 

Duri chuckles, the sound rough and raspy as it builds in his chest. His friends all join in, their laughter echoing off of the booth’s walls. You ignore them, patiently waiting them out as you twist the foot of your glass between your fingers. — After a long minute Duri finally nods, “He’s rubbing off on you.” 

The comment makes your face burn and you resist the urge to avert your gaze. Painfully, you watch as he leans over to share a kiss with the woman next to him, parting for a moment to whisper something in her ear. Then he sits back, slamming his drink down on the table with a little too much force. “Fair”, he agrees as he rises to his feet. 

Bewildered, you watch as he makes his way around the table, giving your shoulder a harsh pat before making his way toward the staircase. — “Come on”, you urge Taehyun as you hurriedly follow Duri’s tall frame through the ocean of people. Your classmate’s complaints are audible as he whines behind you. “Have you really thought this through?” He questions, his breath warm against the back of your neck, “I mean, look at the guy! We should not be following someone like him to-” 

He’s cut short when Duri suddenly stops by the first step. “Ah”, he exhales as he turns on his heel, his piercing gaze falling on Taehyun. “Seems I have yet to introduce myself, pardon me.” — He extends a rough hand and you watch as Taehyun gingerly takes it in his. “Duri”, he says, the menacing smirk on his lips making your friend cower as he mumbles out a quiet, “Taehyun..” 

It looked as though Duri was holding back laughter when he turned back to you. “Shall we?” He glances in the direction of the grand doors atop the stairs and you nod. 

When you had first climbed these steps, with Beomgyu’s hand on your lower back, the world had been spinning. Each step had felt like one closer to the edge of a misty cliff, where the fog was so thick that it had been impossible to deem the trauma of the fall you might take. — Tonight it felt different. The cliff was no longer enveloped in mist, you saw things clearly now. You saw him clearly. That’s what you had told yourself. 

Each step you take feels both empowering and deafening. The moment lasts forever yet it’s somehow over in a second. And before you know it, you’re faced with the grand doors leading into the VIP section. — Duri stops, his hand on the door handle as he sends the guards a small look of acknowledgement. 

“I think you’ll be fine from here”, he states, the finalization in his tone evident. Wordlessly he pushes the large doors open, motioning for you to step inside. You do so without hesitation, not sparing Duri as much as a second glance when you pass him. 

It’s quiet here, the air is lighter, cleaner. Just like you’d remembered it. Taehyun’s presence is hard to ignore as he clings to your side, the heat radiating off of him as his skittish eyes dart around the room. Almost all booths are occupied already, but you manage to find an empty one by the very edge. 

“Did you know him?” Taehyun whispers when you sit back against the soft cushions. You nod, your gaze still roaming the open space as you absentmindedly bring your drink to your lips, “Sort of.” — Your classmate frowns, and you knew all too well from the look on his face that he was far from satisfied with your answer. 

Your eyes jump from booth to booth, quickly skimming the people populating them as you fervently search for your target. But it’s not even been a full minute when Taehyun interrupts you again. — “Why are we here?” His voice is even quieter now, as if hesitant to even ask the question out loud. “Are you looking for someone?” He then adds when he notices your distant gaze. 

You hum, shaking your head as you lean back against the velvety cushion. “No.” But that was a lie, your first of many. And just as the simple word leaves your lips do you finally find him. All the way across the room, shielded by the man standing before him, yet you could clearly make out his dark hair amongst the rest. 

Suddenly your throat feels dry, and you gulp down another mouthful of your beverage. He’d come here after all. A small, naive part of you had hoped and wished that he would stay, that he would linger within the empty hotel room as he waited for your arrival. But it seems he’d moved quickly. 

It doesn’t take long for you to notice the unfamiliar woman draped on his arm. The sight shouldn’t surprise you anymore, but your heart still skips a beat. She was your replacement. And though she was far from anything you represented, he’d still turned to her when you were a no-show rather than wallowing his sorrows alone at night. — You shouldn’t have expected anything less of him. He was Choi Beomgyu after all. 

He hasn’t noticed you and appears preoccupied with whatever conversation he was currently indulged in. You wish he would notice you. You crave his eyes on you. You long for the way a simple glance from him could make you feel. 

You’d stood him up a third time tonight, and it had made you feel in control. For once you were deciding, and not him. So why was it that you felt so utterly powerless at this very moment? Why was it that your eyes searched his when he couldn’t be bothered to even gaze your way? 

You turn to Taehyun, he was watching you with a small frown. “You don’t like it here?” You ask, the tension falling from your face as you regard his awkward frame. Taehyun shrugs, his warm eyes flitting to the drink in his hand. “It’s alright”, he says, but you catch the hesitation in his voice. 

He chokes on the liquor when your hand brushes along his thigh. “Don’t worry”, you hum as you settle against the booth wall, “We can leave again if you’d like.” Taehyun swallows as he glances between the smile on your lips and to your fingers splayed across his leg. An unfamiliar tint spreads across his cheek when he clears his throat and you find yourself enjoying the sight. 

“It’s fine, really.” He assures you as he takes another small sip of his drink. Though he makes no attempt at shrugging you off. You could still sense his confusion, and you didn’t blame him. You were acting far too uncharacteristically even for your own liking. You had barely recognized yourself when you’d approached Duri. The sudden surge of confidence was unlike anything you’d ever felt before, and the rush it had left behind still tingled in the depths of your stomach. 

It was the length you were willing to go in order to see him, to see Beomgyu. 

Your gaze drifts toward him on its own, and it’s not until his dark eyes fall on yours that you realize just how long and intently you’d been staring at him. He pauses mid sentence, his expression being struck with something you couldn’t quite decipher from this far away. Any other instance you would’ve probably looked away, hid behind nervous laughter or pretended like you hadn’t noticed him in the first place. 

But tonight you don’t feel like yourself. — So you hold his gaze. You want him to see you, all of you. You want him to know that you were here, that you had come without him and that you weren’t planning on changing said fact. 

Beomgyu shifts where he stands on the other side of the room. His fingers, that had previously been drawing small circles on the waist of the woman next to him, stopped. She’s talking to him, her lips move but you can’t make out what she’s saying, and you’re certain that he’s not listening either. 

You can’t tell if he’s angry, you hope he is. Was it selfish? You wanted to pull any other emotion besides lust out of him. You wanted him to feel what you felt every single moment spent in his absence, was that so wrong? — You think you might have succeeded when his hand falls from her waist. 

“I want to go home.” 

The words escape before you can stop them and you lean forward to place your now empty glass on the table before you. Taehyun’s frown returns, and you feel him shift under your hand. “But we just got here? I thought you wanted to-” — “I changed my mind.” You firmly state, not tearing your gaze from Beomgyu as you watch his jaw clench. 

You had gotten what you came here for. A small, but noticeable reaction, one that you’d created. Now all that remained was to safely evacuate before he had the chance to approach you. — With that you rise to your feet, blinking as blood rushes to your head. Taehyun is quick to follow as he gulps down the last of his drink. 

“Hey, wait are you-” His protests are lost on you as you head for the door. Through the corner of your eye you catch Beomgyu’s dark figure moving, coming closer. You quicken your pace, desperate to get away from a situation you had caused yourself. And you were so close, the door handle almost within reach when suddenly, a hand wrapped around your wrist.

You freeze. Their grip is firm, unwavering and demanding as they tug you backward. This was it, this had been a mistake. One temporary rush of confidence had led you to believe that you were actually in control. And now you were about to pay the price for your foolish actions. With your heart in your throat, you turn. 

It’s Taehyun. 

His expression is tense and guarded. It seemed he finally reached his peak. The warmth in his eyes feels distant as he regards you with a narrowed gaze. “What’s going on with you?” He spits the words out, and though you can tell that he’s trying his hardest to appear stoic, you can see the concern swirling in his irises. 

“You want one thing then the next, you’re making no sense and I…” You stop listening, his rambling becomes background noise when you catch Beomgyu not far behind him. Dark strands falling across his face, the rings on his fingers glimmering under the lights as he runs them through his hair. He’s stopped, and you wonder why. 

Your gaze shifts between Taehyun’s worried expression and his motionless one. In that moment, you realize just how much power Beomgyu holds over you, the extreme lengths he makes you go to just to end up hurt in the end. — You didn’t want to feel like that anymore. 

“Taehyun.” His endless rambling is cut short when his name leaves your lips. His eyes, despite the conflict buried within them, are nothing like Beomgyu’s. No, his eyes are gentle, even like this, even when they shouldn’t be. Even when you didn’t deserve it. Your gaze flickers over to Beomgyu one last time before they return to him. 

“Can you kiss me?” 

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[iheartlnfour]

in the quiet moments — luke hughes

pairing : luke hughes x oc!character

summary : seraphina returns home, reconnects with luke hughes , and confronts her eating disorder with his unexpected support.

warmings : e@ting disorders

a/n : it’s inspired from my fanfic on wattpad :) Famine of the heart by i4nlovz

# “And I say I don't care, I say that I'm fine but you know I can't let it go I've tried, I've tried, I've tried for so long” — the grudge by Olivia Rodrigo

The familiar streets of her hometown felt strangely foreign to Seraphina as she walked through them. It had been years—years since she had left, years since she’d left behind the memories of simpler times, of a life that felt so far removed from the woman she was now. The woman who was struggling, quietly, with things she didn’t dare say out loud.

The drive from Ottawa had been long, filled with the usual thoughts that seemed to fill the silence of the car—the numbers, the weight, the never-ending battle. But now, standing at the front door of her parents’ house, she was trying to ignore the gnawing hunger within her. The hunger for control, for something she couldn’t define.

She hadn’t expected him to be here. Not like this.

Luke Hughes had been a boy—her little brother’s best friend. They used to run through the streets together, get into trouble, talk about their futures. She’d always seen him like a kid, a little brat who had a smile that could light up the darkest corners of her childhood home.

But now…

Now, he was different.

“Hey, Seraphina,” came the familiar voice from behind her.

She turned, the instant recognition of his voice sending a rush of memories flooding back. There he stood, grown up, taller than she remembered, in the uniform of a star NHL player. His blue eyes sparkled with a warmth that felt so right yet so wrong at the same time.

She was used to being in control, to hiding everything beneath a surface so thick no one could see past it. But Luke? He saw. He saw everything.

“I didn’t think you’d be here,” she said, offering a half-smile. She wasn’t sure if it was relief or something else that bubbled up when she saw him.

Luke’s grin widened, that same mischievous glint in his eyes. “Of course, I’m here. You didn’t think I’d let you come back without seeing me?” He stepped closer, and her pulse skipped, even though she told herself she shouldn’t let it affect her.

“You’re not a kid anymore,” she added, trying to keep the distance between them.

His gaze softened, the teasing shifting into something more sincere. “Neither are you, Seraphina.” His voice dropped lower, like a secret shared only between them. “I missed you.”

Her heart fluttered involuntarily, but she pushed it away. She couldn’t afford to feel.

“Alright, enough of this,” Quinn’s voice interrupted from the doorway. The older brother she never had, but who always seemed to know when things weren’t right. “Dinner’s ready. Everyone inside.”

Quinn had seen enough over the years. She had been home for a few days now, and he had already picked up on the subtle signs—the way Seraphina picked at her food, the way she didn’t quite look people in the eye, the way she avoided speaking when it got too real.

Dinner was always an ordeal for her, the part of the day where the hunger within her took center stage, reminding her of the numbers she had to control. But tonight, Quinn was determined to make her realize the truth.

The dinner table was filled with laughter, clinking silverware, and conversation. But Seraphina hardly noticed. Her plate remained untouched, and her eyes darted around the room, trying to avoid looking at the food in front of her. She couldn’t face it. Not yet.

Luke had noticed. Of course, he had. He was paying her way too much attention for her to ignore it. His teasing was relentless, his smile never wavering as he flirted, and each time she looked at him, she felt that familiar pang of guilt. She couldn’t even enjoy his attention without feeling ashamed.

Quinn noticed, too. His eyes flicked between Seraphina and her untouched plate. He wasn’t sure how to get through to her, but he knew one thing: she couldn’t keep hiding like this. She was a shell of the person she used to be.

When the meal ended, Quinn couldn’t hold back anymore. He leaned over to Seraphina, speaking quietly so Luke wouldn’t hear. “You didn’t touch your food.”

Seraphina shrugged, trying to brush it off. “I wasn’t hungry.”

But Quinn saw through it, his brow furrowing with concern. “You’re not hungry because you won’t let yourself be. You’re still doing this, aren’t you?”

Seraphina’s throat tightened, her stomach in knots. She didn’t want to talk about it. She never wanted to talk about it. But Quinn wasn’t backing down.

“I’m tired of it, Quinn,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I’m tired of being obsessed with calories. I just want to… stop.”

The tears came, unbidden, slipping down her cheeks as she finally let herself feel the weight of everything she had been hiding. The hunger, the control, the overwhelming loneliness of it all.

Quinn reached across the table, taking her hand in his, squeezing it gently. “We’ll figure it out. But you have to let us help, Seraphina.”

Before she could respond, Luke stepped into the conversation, his voice unusually soft. “Quinn’s right. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Seraphina met Luke’s gaze, surprised to see the sincerity in his eyes. He wasn’t the same boy she remembered—the boy who would joke and tease. No, this was the man who had grown up, who had seen the world, and who wasn’t afraid to speak his mind.

He crouched down beside her, his eyes never leaving hers. “I know I don’t have all the answers,” he said quietly, “but I want to help. You don’t have to hide from me. I’m here, Seraphina. You can trust me.”

Her heart thundered in her chest. How could she trust anyone when she couldn’t trust herself?

“I’m scared,” she whispered. “Scared that if I let go, I’ll lose control.”

Luke’s hand reached out, resting gently on hers. “You don’t have to control everything, Seraphina. It’s okay to be vulnerable. It’s okay to need someone.”

Tears filled her eyes again, but this time, they were different. This time, there was a flicker of something else—something soft, something that made her want to reach out, to let herself trust him.

Luke stayed with her, patiently, quietly. And as the night grew darker, as the moonlight filtered through the windows, she realized something she had been too afraid to admit.

She wasn’t alone anymore.

Later that night, when everyone else had gone to bed, Seraphina found herself standing on the porch, the cool air brushing her skin. The stars were out, twinkling above, and for a moment, she felt something she hadn’t in a long time: peace.

Luke appeared beside her, as if he had been waiting.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice low and comforting.

She nodded, her heart still racing from the conversation. “I think so.”

“You don’t have to do this alone,” he repeated, stepping closer, his presence steady and sure.

Seraphina looked at him, her breath catching in her throat. The man she had once seen as a little brother was now someone who made her feel safe, who saw past all the walls she had built.

She couldn’t help herself. Without thinking, she reached for him, her lips finding his in a gentle kiss.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t a confession. It was simply a moment—a moment of trust, of vulnerability, of realizing that maybe, just maybe, she could let go of the hunger. Let go of the control.

For the first time in years, Seraphina felt full—not of food, but of something much more nourishing.

Love.

[queenbrucewayne]

Happy Valentine’s?

A/n: so I’m kinda a sucker for little valentines fic, but work has been hell the past few days which is why this was late… oops Happy Valentine’s

The whole school was contagious with today. It was red and pink everywhere, cupcakes and flowers all around.

Glitter was scattered in every corner, the cookies and chocolates were passed around by every girl to every boy in the whole school. It was PDA central.

You hadn’t given the day much thought. Every year was like this, sometimes worse…

The teachers weren’t much help, they embraced the holiday, and it was all the week lead up too. Nothing could beat the celebration of love.

You were sat on top the school roof. It was one of the only places not covered in pink and hearts, and it was quiet. Most times you would come up here for lunch, especially since you made friends with one of the custodians who was nice enough to give you a spare key to get up here.

This time though you were finishing some math homework since the library was full of couples who apparently didn’t have enough shame to not throw themselves on each other.

It was peaceful…until it wasn’t.

Just when you thought you could finally have some peace to yourself, you heard the roof door swing open with a loud creak. A boy quickly came thru, looking to be a bit out of breath. He looked around a bit panicked, his eyes landing on yours. Both of you stared intently at each other, clearly not expecting the other to be there.

Just then you heard the sound of shoes clanking up the metal stairs, the boy looked panicked again.

Ah…now you understood.

“Hey.” You spoke up, “Up there.” Pointing to around the corner, he noticed a rusty looking ladder that was resting on its side. “Use that to get up to above me, they won’t notice, I promise.”

The boy hesitated for a moment, but when the sound echoed louder behind him it didn’t really give him much choice. He quickly ran by you to pick up the ladder. Resting it on the side of the wall you were leaning against, he made his way up, laying flat on his stomach and away from the edge.

You stood up and quickly set the ladder back down on its side, quickly taking position to how you were sitting before.

Just when you settled, about five girls busted out the roof top door. You pretended to keep doing your homework, ignoring the girls who were looking around confused.

“Hey! Did you see Bruce Wayne come this way?” One of the girls spoke up.

You glanced up from your book, “Who?”

As if you cursed at them they all gasped.

“Bruce Wayne! Hello?!? You can’t seriously not know who that is?” Another girl chimed in.

You did know who he was, but only by reputation. Both of you were in the same grade, and because this was a school you could only enter by scholarship or money, it was a small class. Based on these girls reaction you could only assume you had offended them by saying you didn’t know one of the biggest names to go here.

“I’m sorry, I don’t- I don’t really have time to focus on boys. Wish I could help.” Your tone was flat, just enough sass to make one of the girls roll her eyes at you.

“You’re kidding.”

You just shrugged, looking back down at your book, as if you were gonna start reading again.

One of the girls scoffed, not seeming too convinced. “Every girl knows him, billionaire hottie, a bit quiet but also so sweet. He’s a junior.”

Another girl quickly jumped in. “Don’t tell me you’re so engrossed in your studies, you seriously can’t know who the prince of Gotham is?”

You smirked, glancing back up at the group again. “Ohhh, so he’s a prince now? Wow… and yes, I study, it’s kinda what our parents pay so much money for.”

“Whatever… let’s go, we’re wasting time with her.” The first girl said, she clearly was trying to present herself as more intimidating then she actually was.

“You all have fun looking for your prince, although I doubt he’ll find it charming of a bunch of freshmen girls chasing after him like lost puppies.”

They all turned to you shocked for a moment.

“How did you know we were freshman?” One girl asked.

You rolled your eyes, looking back down to your math book again. “Your attitudes are a dead giveaway, but if you really wanna know? It’s the uniforms. No junior or senior still has freshly pressed uniforms, it kinda gets old after awhile, also-“ glancing back up again. “You’re supposed to wear the vests on friday, you’re all wearing the cardigans. That’s a common freshman mistake.” You smirked, seeing as all the girls quickly looked at one another to see you were right, nobody there was wearing the vest and now they all started to get flustered.

A couple of them scoffed and started to walk back downstairs, another girl looked embarrassed, and the last two just looked annoyed with you.

“Ugh, whatever. Like I said, you’re a waste of time.” And with that, the rest of the girls walked back downstairs to the school.

As soon as the door closed behind them, you got up to put the ladder back on its feet. The boy- Bruce, had started to climb down right away.

“Wow, I didn’t expect you to get them to leave so quick.” He praised.

You shrugged, sitting back down to your regular position. “They knew it would be a waste of time staying up here to talk to me, they would rather find you.”

He nodded in agreement, glancing down at his uniform he spoke up again. “I didn’t know about that vest rule on Fridays.”

“That’s because I made it up.” You stated.

Bruce eyes widened, “Wait…what?”

You laughed, looking up at him smug. “Yeah, there is absolutely no rule at the school that states we have to wear our vest on Fridays… I made it up to mess with them.”

Bruce face quickly turned from confused to a smile, and then he started busting out laughing. “Wow. I cant believe that! That’s great!”

Hmm he really had a contagious laugh.

“So…” you started slowly. “Prince of Gotham?” You grinned, watching as his expression now was irritated.

“Please don’t call me that.” He looked a bit pouty now.

“Your royal highness gonna get upset?”

He rolled his eyes. “I didn’t come up with the name… it’s just what they call me.”

“They?” You asked.

“The school… the whole city, I don’t know. Someone posted it in the newspaper and…. It just stuck.”

“Oh. So you really didn’t try calling yourself a prince on purpose.” You questioned

“Of course not!”

“So…” you continued. “Do you always have to run away from a bunch of girls on Valentine’s Day?”

Bruce sighed in frustration, seating himself across from you crisscross. “Every year, it’s always a new group of freshman who always act crazy, trying to give me chocolates, heart shaped cards, or maybe some balloons…. It’s exhausting.”

You smiled. “Sounds like you have it rough.”

He frowned. “Are you being sarcastic again?”

“Sorry. Force of habit.”

“So… Why are you up here?” He asked.

“Homework, It’s quiet.”

“That’s it?”

You started writing down more notes. “Yep.”

“You don’t have a valentines?”

You couldn’t help but laugh out, thinking he was joking. However when you looked up his expression looked confused.

“Oh, you’re serious…”

He scoffed. “Well, yeah. Isn’t this one of the school’s favorite holiday. You don’t celebrate?”

“I don’t know… it’s just not my thing I guess. I don’t really have a valentines.” You shrugged.

Bruce thought to himself for a moment. “And… what about the ones you’ve gotten?”

“Umm.” You shifted in your spot. You knew what he was asking wasn’t meant to be mean, he was genuinely curious. You brought your math book up trying to cover a bit of you face. “I don’t get those.”

“What? Really?” He looked genuinely shocked, and you really couldn’t figure out why.

“I don’t really care, it’s not really my thing.” You couldn’t see what kind of face he was making, but you knew he was probably taking pity on you.

When he didn’t say anything back, you peaked up from your math book. He was thinking intently about something, almost like he was trying to solve a problem to a test question. Suddenly he stood back up, dusting a bit of dirt off his uniform pants.

“I’ll be right back!” He quickly said, making a dash for the door.

You didn’t even have time to stop him before the door slammed shut behind him. Not sure what to do next, you went back to taking math notes.

He did say he would be back.

It was probably about 10 minutes later when you heard the echo of shoes getting louder to the roof door. Not bothering to look up when the door opened, already guessing who it was.

“Hey.” He spoke up.

Glancing up to respond, you stopped yourself by the scene in front of you.

He had a white rose in one hand and a plastic sack in the other. Sitting back down across from you, he started to pull out all the things from the bag. Two sodas, a couple of candy bars, and two bags of chips. The last thing he pulled out was a box of band-aids that had hello kitty on them.

Taking a soda and candy bar for himself, he handed you the rest, along with the rose.

You slowly reached out and took it from him, looking at him wide eyed now. Twisting the white rose in your hand you looked back up to him.

“What’s this for?”

“Valentine’s.” He said, casually opening the can of soda and taking a swig.

“Uhh, I’m confused… you-“

“I got you a valentines, the candy and soda from the vending machines, bags of chips from the cafeteria, and the white rose is from the school garden house I snapped off.” He explained, smiling brightly like he just achieved a task.

You looked at the band-aids. “And Hello Kitty?”

“It was the only thing that had hearts on it that wasn’t a school decoration.”

Examining the items and looking up to see his proud expression, you started to smile, a genuine happy smile for the first time ever on this holiday.

Bringing the rose up to your nose you inhaled, smelling the sweet scent that came off of it. It really did bring you joy. Glancing up, you saw Bruce had been starting at you the whole time. “Thank you.”

His eyes widened, looking a bit nervous. “Uh-I” he cleared his throat. “You’re welcome.” He finally got out.

Setting the rose aside, you cracked open the soda he got you, taking a sip. “Even if it was out of pity, it was still a cute gesture.”

Not saying anything for a moment, Bruce started to rotate his soda mindlessly. “It wasn’t out of pity…” he said softly, you almost didn’t catch it.

Just that one sentence, really made you happy. You didn’t know why, but that was exactly what you wanted to hear.

The rest of the time you were up there, you both discussed all kinds of stuff, finding out Bruce had more in common with you then you originally thought. It actually felt like you knew him as a person and not by just reputation.

When the finale bell rang, you couldn’t help but be disappointed. Bruce helped you with your stuff and you both made your way down to the school.

Getting to the bottom, all the hallways were packed with students trying to leave or show off what they got from their Valentine today.

“Let’s go out this way.” You reached out to grab Bruce’s hand and tugged him behind you, sneaking pass the crowd and even avoiding the group of girls you interacted with earlier.

Coming out the side door, you managed to avoid any extra attention. Slowing down your pace, you both started to walk away from the school building and towards one of the school gates. Already seeing parents or drivers here to pick up students.

“Wow, you really know the ins and outs of this school. I didn’t even know that side door existed.” Bruce praised, walking with you side by side now.

“Yeah… I try to find a lot of different places to hide.” You weren’t sure if that was a strange thing to do, but Bruce didn’t seem to be phased. He also hadn’t said anything about you still holding his hand, at some point his grip tightened as if he was worried you would let go.

He started to walk a bit ahead of you, leading you now to the open school gate and sidewalk. When you got there, a black shiny car started to slow down and pull up beside you and Bruce. Coming to a stop, an older man in a nice suit got out of the drivers seat and walked around to the back door, opening it he waited patiently not saying anything.

“That’s my ride.” Bruce said, waving to the gentleman who smiled and waved back.

You suddenly felt disappointed. This was probably the last you would get to hang out, especially since you two sat at opposite sides of the class room. Even though you hadn’t really known anything about him previously besides a name and a face, it was clear you were on completely opposite social standings.

However, your time with him was nice, and nothing like how you expected. A lot of the kids had backgrounds of family’s who were doctors, politicians, or CEO of big businesses, so most of their attitudes were very Im better then you. There was only a few who got here on scholarship, you included. So it only made sense someone as big of a name as Bruce Wayne wouldn’t ever take notice to you.

“So, same time Monday?”

You jumped at the sudden break of silence, not realizing you were stuck in your own head.

“What?”

Bruce smiled, “Monday? Roof top again?” When you didn’t respond right away he suddenly looked nervous. “Uhh, unless you don’t want hang out, I just realized I crashed one of your hiding spots… if you don’t wanna be bothered-“

“No!” You suddenly shouted, causing him to jump a bit. “I mean..” you cleared your throat, “yes, Monday, same spot. That would be fun…”

He suddenly smiled again. “Okay!” Letting go of your hand, he rushed over to his driver. He started saying something to him you couldn’t hear, but you could only assume it was about you since the man looked back to you and smiled big again.

Putting up your hand you waved nervously to him. Seeing Bruce turn to you now and giving a wave himself. He got into the car, his driver closing the door behind him. The man walked around to the drivers side, getting in and driving away.

He wanted to hangout… again. He expected to hangout again… He had fun.

You stood there for a moment, turning around to start your walk home. A smile started to creep it’s way onto your face… this was the best Valentine’s Day ever… you couldn’t wait for Monday.

Tag: @christianbalefanatic

[jadedrrose]

𝐖𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐀𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫

request: "with a s/o who pampers him after a long training session— they make him his favorite pumpkin soup, give him lots of water, wipe his sweat, tend to his wounds (if he ever has any) and give him lots of kisses!! Angeal and Genesis witness all of that mushy gushy stuff, and like to tease Seph behind his back"

word count: 1697 warnings: female reader (she/her pronouns used), non-sexual nudity (they take a bath together), pre-nibelheim seph, fluff note: I saw a tweet about a "theory" (?) that the first class SOLDIERs share a living space but have separate rooms, so I used that idea for this fic.

Sitting on the plush couch in the first’s living quarters, you read a book, keeping an eye on the pumpkin soup which currently simmers on the stove. You’ve been preparing it for the past few hours, knowing Sephiroth was having a particularly busy, and exhausting, day. Glancing up from your book you read the digital clock on the side-table, finding that it’s getting fairly late. Your boyfriend had said he’d only be training for about an hour after completing his missions for the day- so what was the holdup?

However, your question was answered upon hearing the sound of voices entering the room. Genesis, who’d been loudly boasting about how he’d beaten both Angeal and Sephiroth in training, paused, presumably taking in the scent that filled the room. “It would seem that someone’s been in here, cooking.”

The three men step out from the doorway into the main living area, and you can hear Sephiroth just barely whisper your name. You put your book down, getting up to greet him. Pushing past the other two men, you smile and wrap your arms around your boyfriend, who returns the hug. You can feel his exhaustion in the embrace. Holding him tighter, your lips meet in a soft, short-lived kiss. 

“What are we reading today?” Genesis asks, picking your book up from where you left it. 

“A murder mystery,” you reply, reluctantly letting go of Sephiroth. “Sorry to say it isn’t your beloved Loveless.” 

“Hmph. How many times have I asked you to read it, now?”

You roll your eyes, and nod to Angeal, silently greeting him. “Too many to count,” you finally reply. “I’ll get to it… eventually.”

“Perhaps you’d have more time to read it if you didn’t spend it all pampering the golden child,” the redhead laments.

“Let her do with her free time as she wishes, Genesis,” Angeal cuts in. 

Before Genesis can playfully bicker some more, Sephiroth speaks up, “did you make pumpkin soup?”

“Yep! I knew you’d be having a long day, so…” you bashfully look down, finding his warm gaze makes your heart beat too quickly. “And I did make enough for you guys, too,” you say, turning to Genesis and Angeal. “It’s ready when you all are.”

The two men rush into the kitchen, grabbing the bowls you’d placed on the table and hastily scooping the soup into their dishes. Sephiroth, however, stays back and gives your upper arm a squeeze. “Thank you,” he quietly says. “I really appreciate you doing this.” 

His gaze now tells you that he’s very tired, and so you decide you’ll run him a bath after dinner. But for now, you give him a loving smile, before sneaking in another quick kiss and pulling him into the kitchen by his wrist. 

—

Once all four of you have eaten, Angeal and Sephiroth are washing and putting away the dishes, and so you take the time to go prepare a bath for you and Sephiroth. As the water slowly fills the tub, you wait, leaning against the vanity. 

“Can the baby not even fill a bath for himself?” Someone says, and you nearly jump a couple feet into the air, temporarily scared. 

You turn to find Genesis at the door, arms crossed in front of himself. “Someone must be jealous that they don’t have anyone to dote on them,” You sigh, “what are you doing in here?” 

Genesis extends an arm, holding out a copy of Loveless. “Decided I’d bring you this so that it would be ready for you to read at any time. And perhaps seeing it will serve as a reminder.”

You shake your head, but you’re smiling anyway. Taking the book, you go to put it on the side of the dresser that Sephiroth let you have. “Thanks.”

“No need to thank me. In fact, you can keep it.”

“You don’t want your beloved book back?” You ask.

“That’s a spare copy,” he replies.

Of course he has multiple copies, you then roll your eyes at the idea of him having a bookshelf dedicated to it. 

—

Back in the kitchen, Sephiroth places the silverware back into the drawer and then dries off the counter. Just as he’s about to retreat into his room for the night, Angeal closes the fridge door- having put the remaining soup away- and turns to him. “You’ve really got her wrapped around your finger, huh?” 

“What do you mean?” Sephiroth raises an eyebrow. 

“She cooks your favorite meals, and prepares baths for you. Don’t tell me she brushes your hair, too.”

Sephiroth frowns, knowing he can’t deny that, and Angeal laughs in response. 

“Anyway, what I’m saying is you’ve found yourself a nice, honorable woman,” Angeal clarifies. “Don’t let that go.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Sephiroth nearly scoffs. You’re quite literally the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and the thought of him losing you was his biggest fear. If he ever let you go, he’d never forgive himself.

“We’ll I’m just saying… maybe you should do something to thank her. Show her how forever dedicated to her you are.”

Sephiroth contemplates what Angeal means by that for a moment, before quietly asking, “are you suggesting that I pro-“

“Your bath awaits you, princess,” Genesis announces, entering the kitchen. “Your love is waiting to pamper her baby.”

Sephiroth lowers his head, hoping his hair might hide the blush that spreads across his face. “I’m not her baby.”

The other two men burst into laughter. “I’m afraid I have to agree with Genesis. She really does mother you sometimes, huh?” Angeal chuckles. 

“Don’t keep her waiting, baby,” Genesis teases. 

Rolling his eyes, Sephiroth leaves the kitchen, heading straight for his room. He locks the door behind himself and finds you leaving the bathroom, a silky robe in your favorite color wrapped around yourself. It seems you’ve just changed into it, then.

“Um, you can… go in,” you step aside, letting Sephiroth into the bathroom. 

You’re about to let him undress himself in privacy before you remember all of the gear he has to take off. You quickly turn around and follow him into the en-suite, helping him remove all of the armor and belts. You then pull his coat off for him, tossing it into the laundry basket before reaching to undo the straps across his chest, but it’s then that you spot a cut on his chest. “Seph, you’re hurt!” You cry, dropping to your knees to get medical supplies out from the vanity’s cabinets. 

You’re stopped in your tracks as Sephiroth pulls you back up, shaking his head. “I can wash it in the bath. It’s already healed quite a bit, anyway.”

You sigh, taking a closer look at the wound. He’s right, it has already healed much faster than it would’ve if it was on you. You suppose that it’s due to the mako treatments he receives. 

Once Sephiroth is down to just his pants, you let him fully undress and get into the tub, keeping your eyes averted. 

“Don’t act as though you’ve never seen me naked before,” he calls from the bath. “Join me,” he then invites.

“But I want to-“

He shushes you with a finger to his lips, before grabbing your wrist and pulling you closer. From there, he pulls at the ribbon keeping your robe together, watching with a mischievous gaze as it falls to the floor. His slitted pupils grow wider at the sight of you, sending a shiver down your spine. “Just relax with me, love,” he coaxes, making room for you to sit in front of him. To your surprise, once you’re in the warm, soothing water with him, Sephiroth makes no move to indicate he wants anything sexual out of this. Instead, he yawns, closing his eyes.

“You seem exhausted,” you say, running a hand through his hair, dampening it. “Rough day?”

“Somewhat,” he grumbles. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, sweetly, before putting some of his floral-scented shampoo into your hand. “Let me take care of you?” 

It comes out as more of a statement, but you still wait for his permission; he can sometimes be so avoidant about these things, like he doesn’t feel as though he deserves to be taken care of. Sephiroth nods, and so you reach around him, and begin massaging the shampoo into his hair, starting at his scalp. Gently, your fingers dip under his silver locks and you lightly scratch his head, the shampoo quickly foaming up as you do so. You then slowly work your way down the long length, and finally help him rinse it.

Once his whole in-shower hair routine is done, you move to sit behind him and rub his back, working your soft hands over his muscles. He sighs as you help him relax, and after a short while of giving him a massage, you can feel- and see- that he’s nearly half asleep. You stop and wrap your arms around his torso, resting your head against the top of his back and neck, his silky hair pushed over his shoulder. You press a kiss to his pale skin, and it’s then he mumbles something you can’t quite decipher.

“Hm?” 

“I wanna hold you…” he says slightly louder, but his exhaustion is now extremely clear in his voice. Smiling, you get up. “How about I help you dry off and you can hold me in bed?”

“…yeah,” he agrees.

And so you drain the water, give Sephiroth a towel that he uses to dry himself from the stomach down, while you wrap a towel around yourself and get yet another towel for his hair. 

Many towels later, he’s in a pair of sweatpants and you’re in one of his t-shirts, dragging him to bed. As soon as he’s laid down, Sephiroth grabs your waist with a scarily fast speed, tugging you down with him. “Thank you for everything… I love you,” he groggily says. Holding you in his arms, he buries his face between your neck and shoulder, giving your skin a light kiss as he drifts off into sleep. You smile yet again, placing your hands over his own as you follow him into a peaceful slumber.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: 𓆩♡𓆪 :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

[thesensteawitch]

Something Is About To Be Revealed To You 🕊️

Pick A Pile Reading

Hey, lovely humans!

This is a collective reading so take what resonates and leave what doesn't.

To book a personal tarot reading with me either you can DM me or directly book from the link mentioned below:

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Pile 1

Oh, you don't know how powerful you are! Soon you'll realize that your intuition has always been right about what path you must walk on. You don't know how successful you can be. Despite having a chaotic thought pattern, you have the strength to unravel the knots that bind you to a limited construct. Life will show you why it was necessary for you to walk away from certain connections. Currently you're healing a shadow of yours, but you're about to come out of it. You'll rise above the challenges and will realize it was no one but you who decided your life to unfold the way it did. You may feel that you're a restless rat, always distracted. But all this confusion is leading you to the truth. Your path is messy, confusing, and pretty lonesome, but you are very, very close to a breakthrough. This breakthrough is changing you from within and outside. Your intuition is telling you that something better is coming, but it's not here yet, right? Trust it while you're on your way to a better and more deserving reality. The only advice coming from the source for you is to stay focused on your goal. Don't change your plans just because you haven't seen the results yet. If you keep changing your plans, you'll only bring more delays and confusion. If you're wearing something in beige, white, black, or red, then this reading is definitely for you! Angel number 222. Ending this at 2:22 (You're on the right path!)

Pile 2

Soon you're being revealed to a whole new world. You seem so bored with where you are currently. Something unexpected can come in the form of a new idea or money that is going to make you feel more confident to start a new journey. You want to create something, but you lack direction or an outlet. You're soon receiving a call from the divine to do something extraordinary. You don't need to look for this blessing. It will naturally come to you within 3-4 days. Don't lose hope. And if you're wondering why this new idea and resources are coming to you, then the reason for it is your past karmas. It's a reward from the source. For a very few of you, I also feel that someone's going to reveal their feelings for you. This person has been waiting for the right moment to make a move. They are going to take a leap of faith toward you as you mean the world to them. And all of this is not happening randomly. As I said, it's a reward for your own actions. You've been waiting to see the difference in the outside world for the difference you have made within you. A lot of you have given so much time into loving and taking care of yourself that it is going to be reflected in your surroundings as well. Someone sees you as spiritual, grounded, and friendly. Also, as you begin this new project with the idea/resource/offer that you're about to receive, you'll be surprised to see how talented you are. Don't be so hopeless. I know a lot hasn't worked out in the past but this time if you choose to accept this blessing your whole world will change. Love finds you; you don't find it. Strength finds you; you don't find it. Wisdom finds you; you don't find it. You just need to keep your channel empty to receive from the divine. 444 is your angel number. If you're wearing something in brown, blue, orange, or yellow, then this reading is definitely for you.

Pile 3

You are on your way to understanding the divine. You're doing this by being less self critical and more accepting of your shadows. You're no longer afraid of the darkness because you know that to embrace light, one must accept the dark too. Currently you're choosing to live in solitude to receive the message from the source. Some of you are receiving messages through songs. Whatever you're seeking currently is intense. And what you seek is seeking you. So what's about to be revealed to you is exactly what you're trying to understand. This pile doesn't feel that God is too far to reach out to, but you wonder what makes your shadow feel that way. You're not suppressing anymore. You're embracing all of you! So beautiful and serene, pile 3. I also feel that a lot of you are wishing to find a divine love where both choose to heal together without being codependent. The song, ‘Dandelions,' can be significant. The deep reflection that you're in is bringing you closer to union. This union of Shiva & Shakti is happening within you first. What divine love feels like will soon be revealed to you. It feels like you're choosing to dive into your darkness and find the diamond. You're doing something only few dare to do. I am also getting the vibes of Mula and Ardra nakshatras. Deep and intense transformations bring wisdom to you. You're evolving, and the truth shall soon be revealed to you. Keep going and do the right thing while you traverse through this narrow path. If you're wearing something in grey or purple, then this reading is definitely for you.

[magicalbuttertarts]

Hiya! Thanks for doing this list btw, you're doing a great service to the community 🫡 How about #3 with Triple H with a self-conscious female reader?

WWE Masterlist

Smut Prompt List 2

This has not been proofread. Please enjoy though.

Warnings: Smut under the cut. Unprotected sex. Mirror sex. Self doubt. Cum in pussy. A bit of swearing, but nothing crazy.

Requested by anonymous. Thank you! This made me giggle. 🫡

WC: 701

©️ magicalbuttertarts 2025: do not repost or translate my work. Do not use AI on my work.This is the only place I post my work.

#3: “Look what you do to me”

I heard her sigh as she walked past the floor length mirror I have in my office.

I didn't say anything as I looked at her.

She was pulling down her pencil skirt and fixing her blouse.

"What is the matter love?" I finally asked her.

"Just having a down day is all Hunter." I knew what that meant.

"Well, just so you know, you look gorgeous." I knew she has become self-conscious of her body as of late.

She has told me she has gained a few pounds, but I didn't see it.

I felt my cock twitch in my slacks as she bent over to fix the strap on her heel.

I stood up as she did that, standing behind her not making a sound.

She straightened her body, and her ass rubbed against my hardening cock, making her gasp and me moan.

"Now, you are going to stand here and let me show you how gorgeous your body is."

"Hunter," She started to say, but I just shushed her.

"Just keep quiet and listen." The two of us stood in front of the mirror, her eyes watching my hands as I ran my hands over her body.

"Do you see these breasts?" I unbutton each one, groaning low in my throat at her wearing a black, lacey bra.

"I love your face, I love your laugh, your thoughts, but these, fuck these I love. They are the best tits I have ever had a chance to touch and suck on. They are so sensitive to my touch."

Her breathing picked up just a bit as I cupped her breasts in my hands.

I trailed my hands down to her hips. "I love nothing better than holding onto to your beautiful hips as I make you scream my name."

"Hunter." She said my name, but I continued on.

"Now, you say you have gained a bit of weight. I don't see it, but what I do see is the place where I have laid my head as you took all my worries away. I can go on and on, but do you see this?"

She turned around at that moment, and I pointed down, and she looked to see where I was pointing.

“Look what you do to me." I said as she reached for my hard cock and started to palm me through my pants

"Hunter, I need you."

"I got you love."

◆

My eyes were trained on the mirror that I moved in front of the couch that I had in my office.

I had her in my lap, my legs spread wide as she bounced in my lap.

Her tits were bouncing as she rode me, her face was scrunched up in pleasure.

My hands were gripping her hips as I raised my hips to slam up into her.

My eyes trailed down the mirror until I finally saw what I wanted her to see.

"Open your eyes for me love." I asked her.

"Now, look at where we connect." I told her, watching her eyes in the mirror trail down until she saw my cock piston in and out of pussy.

"No other woman could take me like you do. You see how stretched your little pussy is? I know you tell me how after we fuck, there is a dull ache you feel for days."

"Yes." Her eyes haven't moved as she watched her juices form a ring at the base of my shaft.

"Take what is yours. Use your gorgeous fucking body as you use me."

She rode me until she finally stilled in my lap, her pussy clenching around my cock as she came.

I watched in the mirror as my balls clenched just as I coated her walls with my cum.

Her pussy fluttering around my cock as I came, prolonging her orgasm.

"See baby, see what you do to me." I stated once more.

"You are gorgeous." I told her as she turned her head to look at me, and me kissing her cheek as I lifted her off my lap, watching my cum slowly leak out of her pussy, making my half-hard cock twitch, wanting round two.

Tag list: @lghockey @nicoleveno14 @legit9thlunaticwarrior @hooks-martin @madhatterbri @wwenhlimagines @melissahausen @blackwingedmisanthrope @chantelaustingunn @sunshinevirus

[beef-brisket]

((Fucking- God damn it, Adam.

Abel is such a cutey 😫😫))

Adam felt his heart melt when Abel hugged him tightly.

Adam: You be careful to, okay? These bastards still have angelic weapons, I'll do what I can to keep an eye on you, but you need to prove yourself to the girls, yeah?

Abel nodded and moved away: I know, I just... I hate sinners to- but murdering them? I... I know it needs to be done, but... I'm scared.

Adam: I know, hun. It's... tough. Especially your first few exterminations. But you'll get there.

Abel: I... I don't know if I want to... d-do you think you could convince Sera to let you be the commander again?

Adam felt so bad for his son. He really didn't want to do this, and knowing Heaven and his past experience, they wouldn't have given Abel a choice.

Adam: I can try, bud. But uh... she probably won't fall for it... I could recommend someone else, but if I do that, I'd have to say some harsh things about you- and I don't want to do that.

Abel chuckled when Adam pulled him in for a hug again: It's okay, dad! Lie if you have to!

Adam laughed: Okay, okay. I'll recommend Lute.

-

Lucifer watched the two exorcists interact, and they looked... close, to say the least.

At first, Lucifer thought they may have been together, but now... he can't help but feel there's some kind of parent relationship going on.

Does that mean Abel sees Ada as a mother? Is Adam dating- no. No, they slept together. Surely, the first man would pick better partners than a cheater- but then again, how good in bed could Adam be?

Lucifer swears this extermination is getting stranger and stranger.

-

Lucifer: Heeey~. You looked good out there~.

It took every ounce of Adam's willpower not to groan when he saw Lucifer standing in front of his room.

Adam just wanted to shower and crash.

"I know I looked good. I look good all the time, bitch."

Lucifer chuckled: Oh, I'm sure~. So... three days left, huh? Not long till you go back to Heaven... want to spend the night with me again~?

No

"Do I have to?"

Lucifer laughed: Don't be like that! I had a great time, last night! And, I know you did to~.

Adam blushed. Bastard.

"I guess so... fine, just let me shower-"

Lucifer: No. I think I have a thing for you covered in blood~. Maybe I could... lick it off~?

That's disgusting. Or at least, it should be... so why is Adam into it?

"That's... not sanitary."

Lucifer laughed: Well... you could always shower at my place. With me~.

Ada made no move to sign anything, but Lucifer could hear the cogs turning in her head. Maybe he's convinced her. And if he could get her in the shower, he'd be able to see her face.

Surely the exorcist doesn't wear her helmet in the shower.

Adam the Exorcist

@beef-brisket

Lute looked up wide eyed as her commander was giving his speech and there was a little sinner coming up behind him.

Lute: SIR BEHIND YOU!?

Adam stopped and turned, he gasped and grabbed Nifty by the neck and threw her at the hotel crew and Lucifer, glaring at the lot of them.

Adam: THIS ISN'T FUCKING OVER!!

Lucifer: I think it is bud, you should go home.

Adam glared more, he was leaving because he wanted to not because this little fucker told him to. He waved his hand giving them the signal that extermination day was officially over.

Adam: Exorcists fall back!

Lute: But ..... Sir -

Adam: NOW Lute!!

She nodded and glared at the King and princess of Hell along with her friends. They all flew back to heaven and Adam flipped Lucifer off before he was fully back in.

Adam groaned when the portal closed, they had never had it go that wrong that fast. This wasn't going to end well.

-

Adam: Retire!?

Sera sighed she knew Adam wouldn't take this well.

Sera: Yes Adam, it's time you step down as the commander of the exterminators.

Adam: Is this about what happened!? Because it won't happen again.

Sera: You're right, it won't.

Adam sighed: But Abel? My boy is too soft to do that job.

Sera: There's no one else to do it. You nearly died down there we....... We can't lose you.

On one hand he understands where she's coming from, but he was meant to do this! The only reason things went bad was because Lucifer showed up.

Lute just HAD to kill the princess's pet.

Adam: I don't want him to die.

Sera: He won't. We will be doing a more regimented training routine. You deserve a rest Adam.

Adam: ..... Yes Sera.

She smiled and held out her arms, Adam hugged her. She was only doing this because she loves him, he knows that. Doesn't make it suck any less.

Adam went back to his room to lay down, he didn't realize how tired he was until he did.

There had to be a way that he could still be an exterminator.

Some how.

[aniju-aura]

They're in the White Forest by the way

@creatively-cosmic

This one had different dialog That is all

[penisbilt]

the bittersweet but absolute flood of relief that comes from admitting defeat at living independently, to have to move back in with parents. we tried! we gave it our best shot for almost 3 years! but living like this (being on our own) is just not possible for us at this time of our lives. we've finally proved it to ourselves that we can't do it. it'll be okay to let ourselves rest now

[robbed-ghost]

“Damian isn’t ooc what are you talking aboutttt he’s only 14 and wants to trust his dad so badlyyyy guyssss don’t get upsettt” have you never read a comic with Damian in it in your life

[dogbunni]

if I have been a little quiet this past week that is bc life is swinging a giant cartoon mallet at my head and cackling like the joker experiencing the adrenaline rush of batman driving the batmobile towards him at 120mph. thank you

[eccleraprisma]

one thing about me is that you will never take the nature loving and nature revering pagan out of me. its been embedded within me since as long as i can remember. it was my religion when i had none and couldn't understand anyone else's. its why it still is now and why it will always make sense to me when nothing else does and im only using 'pagan' and 'religion' as shorthand for what i really mean because what i really mean is undefinable

[tonycries]

You'll Taste Me Too! - G.S.

Synopsis. How do you last three days on a work trip with the man you hate the most in the office? You don’t - you end up pinned underneath him, instead.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, office AU, enemies to lovers, jealousy (Gojo’s side), FAKE DATING, PAST Naoya x reader, creampíes, breéding, oraI (fem receiving), spítting, hot springs, cúmplay, DOWN BAD Satoru, tensíon, he’s a bit mean, revenge on your ex, ambiguous office work, exhíbitionísm, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 11.9k (this was supposed to be HALF that)

A/N. This type of annoying Gojo is always so fun to write, hope y’all have a great week <3

In all your three years as head of the marketing department, it wasn’t any of the tight deadlines or the nervous interns that drove you crazy. Hell, it wasn’t even the fact that the coffee maker in the break room only made tea. 

No, the one thing you couldn’t stand - the one thing that had you contemplating whether your transfer was really worth it - came in the form of the 6’3, cloudy-haired manchild who headed the sales department. 

The one person who’d made it his personal mission to toy with your sanity as soon as you’d stepped foot into the cleancut office of Jujutsu Enterprises. 

The bane of your existence. 

“Gojo Satoru.”

“Huh?” you gape stupidly, and if this was any other time you’d have smacked yourself for the unprofessionalism. 

Yaga nods gravely - almost sympathetic - as if he honestly couldn’t fault you for your reaction. “Yes, since this upcoming contract relies heavily on collaboration between the marketing and sales departments, Satoru here-” He nods at the tangle of long limbs that’d been draped dramatically over the seat right next to you. “-will be accompanying you on your trip to Kyoto…unfortunately.”

“What do you mean ‘accompanying’-”

“The fuck do you mean ‘unfortunately’-”

Your supervisor heaves out a tired sigh over your flurry of protests, rubbing his temples, “Look, I wouldn’t have picked out your ah- duo either. But as heads of department, you two are the best and brightest we have. And the board believes we can snag the infamous Gakuganji and his protegé easily as clients with the combination of you both.” 

“But-” you sputter out. “Can’t I go with Nanami like I usually do? Surely he’s a better option than a pompous, no-good nepo-”

“And I’d rather go alone.” Gojo cuts through smoothly, flashing a cocky wink your way. “Sorry, sweetheart, but even my charm won’t be enough to stop you from scaring that client off.”

Fuck unprofessionalism. If looks could kill, the leveled glare you shoot the man at your side is enough to bury him six feet and have you dancing on his grave already. 

You scowl, crossing your arms over your chest. Now fully facing Gojo for the first time since you’d first entered Yaga’s stuffy office, “Oh yeah, and aren’t you the one that got reprimanded for sleeping through the last company meeting we had?”

“D-did not.” his cheeks tinge with a delicate strawberry pink.

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.” you scoff, brows furrowing when you realize you’ve inched just a bit closer than appropriate. Your knees knocking against his, yet you don’t pull away out of stubborness. “What? Too embarrassed to admit your oh-so-great ‘charm’ was in the pillows?”

Almost mockingly, he’s copying your posture, tight white shirt straining over those biceps he didn’t hesitate to infuriatingly flex any time you came around. Minty breath wafting over your cheeks when he leans in to murmur lowly - just loud enough that Yaga won’t question, “No, but you would be happy to know that it is in the sheets.”

You blink, though, you can’t really be too surprised - of course, Gojo turns the conversation into something so filthy. He always does.

But before you can spit out a few venomous expletives you really would regret saying in front of Yaga, the man himself interrupts your argument with a pointed cough. “Since the chemistry is as lively as ever,” he’s deadpanning dryly. “I take it you both will be on your best behavior for these three days, and come back with a signed contract.”

Chemistry your ass. 

And though he’s addressing you both, you feel a stab of smug satisfaction when Yaga’s gaze lock with an amused Gojo’s. 

“Mhm, of course we’ll come back successful - how could you not with the star employee on this trip.” he motions airily in your direction. You stiffen, not expecting the compliment when- “And of course our cute resident hardass will be there, too.”

“You little fu-”

“Great!” Yaga claps his hands, a signal you knew meant to get the hell out of his office before he assigns more overtime. “It’s settled then, your tickets have been booked for tomorrow and I assume you both have been emailed the appropriate information?”

Nodding, you make your way to leave - and find that Gojo is waiting, glass door to the office held open for you. With a sharp click of your tongue, you bite down on whatever words come to your throat, barely out of the office before you hear a tired warning behind you, “And please don’t try to kill each other, our insurance doesn’t cover it.” 

When you’re both out in the hallway, Gojo flashes you a cocky smirk and an even cockier “You heard the man.” Pointing at his unfairly pretty features - not that you’d admit that in a million years. “After all, my face is insured but who’d want to hurt this handsome-”

“I could.” You interrupt, rolling your eyes. “Easily. And I would, too, if it wasn’t for the fact that this job pays well.” Something you say every time he prances around in your department during breaks, bragging about how you’re “all bark but no bite.”

Satoru only chuckles, raising his hands up in surrender when you continue, “Let’s just get through these three days, ace the contract, and never speak of this again. Okay?”

To your surprise, he’s grabbing one of your hands with his much larger ones - soft, you gulp, noting involuntarily. “I like what goes on in that pretty lil’ brain of yours, silly girl. Then, let’s charm the asses off that dumbass client and the board of elders~”

Everyone in the office knew of the strange little dynamic between you two - found it to be the utmost entertainment they got in the workday. But you were damned if you let it mess up this contract. 

If you two survived the entire three days, that is. 

---

You two were not surviving the entire three days - or the contract deal, for that matter. Hell, you couldn’t even survive this first day. 

“Gojo I told you.” you squint at the glossy paper. “It says platform eight. I know you can’t see without those ugly sunglasses of yours but-”

A big arm comes up suddenly behind your shoulders, snatching the train ticket clean out of your hands. Gojo lets it rest there as he exclaims, “Let me see. Now, y’know if this was me, I’d have chosen Gran class. Ichiji in finances really skimped out buying these second class seats, gonna hafta have a word with him when we get back…”

You narrow your eyes, frantically trying to push back that strange part of you that almost wanted to lean in closer to the hit of his piney, expensive cologne. “Have fun bullying him, you leech.”

To which he only responds with a syrupy giggle, “Oh, don’t worry.” And you let out a tiny gasp when he flicks your forehead softly. “You’ll be right there in first class with me. Even with that bratty attitude of yours, the ladies love those Gojo perks.”

“Mhm explains why you’ve been single for all three years I've had the misfortune of knowing you.” you hiss, eyes desperately darting about for directions to platform eight. You were going to get on this train - with or without him. Preferably without him.

So absorbed in your mission that if you didn’t know any better, you’d have said that Gojo’s words were a pitch higher than normal when he retorts with a strangled, “S-so what? Keepin’ an eye on me, sweetheart?”

And you knew the two of you definitely looked like a peculiar sight - Gojo’s dangling off of you like a ragdoll, surrounded by the few comically large suitcases that were mainly his. So much for a three-day work trip. Your face burns at the few weary salary workers that gave the two of you a very wide berth while going about their daily commutes. Fuck, you couldn’t even ask anyone for help at this point if you both looked at like some safety hazard. 

“Did you find it?” You huff when the silence lingers a bit too long - jumping when you raise your head up to find his burning stare already inches away from you. “God- I take it back, please keep those glasses on.”

“Hey!”

You’re digging your elbow into his side now, words stumbling over the other in a heated hurry, “And get- get off we’re gonna miss this-”

“It really is you, huh?”

All at once, you’re reminded that strangely it isn’t just the two of you causing ruckus in the middle of the Shinjuku station. Unfortunately. 

Any and all previous irritation at Gojo wipes away, flooding back as full, unbridled rage when you’re tearing your eyes away from the nuisance beside you to look up and-

Oh. 

Dammit, you knew you’d recognize that grating voice anywhere - and for the first time, it wasn’t Gojo’s.

“Naoya.”

“You.” 

Still didn’t even have the decency to address you properly, huh? You bite your lower lip, unaware what to say next. But luckily you didn’t have to - because Gojo is standing up straighter, features smoothing into a mask of cool appraisal when he sweeps his eyes down at the other man. 

Finally, Naoya seems to notice him. Flickering quickly between the arm still firmly around your shoulder and his darkened stare. “And who are you?”

“Could ask ya the same thing, two-tone.” he smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. And you swear you could feel the soft pads of his fingers tightening, digging in through your silky work shirt. “What business do you have with us?”

Us - you didn’t miss the emphasis. 

Evidently, Naoya didn’t either, because his tone turns into a low, dangerous simper as he continues. “What? Can’t a man come up just to catch up with a fling?”

Gojo’s jaw clenches as he watches you register the word. Fling. Sure, after about a year of dating, the two of you didn’t have the cleanest break up - with the constant fights and him wanting to uproot your life and dream career with his new job transfer. But still. 

“Of course, he can.” Gojo raises a snowy brow, buttons on his shirt straining when he puffs his chest out ever-so-slightly. You can’t help but notice that he has much more than a few inches on your ex. Gruffing out, “But not when she’s with her new boyfriend.”

Boyfriend?

You freeze the word running around over and over in your hazy mind - boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend-

“And trust me, she’s long forgotten your sorry ass.” You’re jolting back to reality only when you feel the slow, soothing glide of Gojo’s thumb at the exposed skin of your shoulder. He looks down at you with that familiar mirthful smile to say, “Isn’t that right, my girl?”

“Ah uh-” you’re mentally kicking yourself for not choosing to attend those acting lessons in college for extra credit. Coughing out what you hope to be a believable, “Yeah, this is G-Satoru, my- my boyfriend.”

But your coworker takes it all in concerning stride, pulling you flush against his toned chest, rumbling with the muse of “Mhm, and we’re very happy together.” You honestly feel like you’re about to fall weakly to your knees right then and there in the station when you feel the distinct pressure of two soft, plump lips grazing fleetingly at your forehead. Murmuring into your hairline, “Going on a couples’ trip to Kyoto this very moment, in fact.”

“I see.” Naoya levels out, and by the sharp glint in his eyes you already knew the gears on his head were turning. But before you could question him any further, the melodic voice of the railway announcer cuts through the tense air. “Ah- that’s me. And as pleasant as this reunion was, Kurama onsen doesn’t wait.” Before clapping a hand on the shoulder of the uncharacteristically silent Gojo stood by your side, “I wish you the best with your relationship, she’s only good the first few times after all.” His next words are cold and directed at you. “I’ll text ya, if you still don’t have me blocked, that is.” 

Saved by the train - and your fist gripping onto Gojo’s button-up, Naoya saunters to climb aboard the train currently entering the nearby platform. 

Leaving the both of you in that whirling, unfamiliar silence. Gojo’s arm is still burning around your shoulder, your muscles still aching from stopping him from powerfully lunging after the other man.

You break first. 

“Why…why did you do that.” you mutter over the bustling crowds - more to yourself than him, so you’re surprised when he responds just as hastily. 

“It’s just- Because he was a dick.” Gojo’s lips form a petulant pout. He decidedly avoids your probing eyes while he plows on, “And I should be the only one allowed to be a dick to you so don’t get it twisted, silly girl.”

You scoff, before your eyes widen at where Noaya was boarding through the doors of the sleek bullet train, “Wait- Gojo-”

“Satoru, think I deserve to be called ‘Satoru’ after that.” he grins irritatingly. “Consider it a payment since it’ll kill ya to say it every time.”

“Yes yes, S-Satoru-” you wave off, but you can’t deny how easily the name rolls off your tongue. And distinctly, you wondered why you called most of your coworkers by first name, but never him before. “He’s going to Kurama onsen.”

Gojo tilts his head, nose scrunching in confusion. “And?”

“We’re going to Kurama onsen.”

---

For all the disaster the first day had wrecked upon your sanity, you were thankful enough that neither of you were sat in the same area as Naoya. Barely even settling into your cushioned seat before putting on your headphones - and a sleeping mask for good measure so you couldn’t be riled up by your coworker again. 

Surprisingly he didn’t try either. Only bothering you to share his snacks occasionally, and hog the arm space on your chair, electricity running down your skin every time he brushed up against you. 

It was quiet, somehow neither of you minded. 

“Hah- are we- woah.” you gasp out after the short walk from the Kyoto station to your destination, an intricate wooden sign coming into view. Lugging your baggage with you - Gojo had insisted he carry it too as a show of strength, but you were sure it’s because he just wanted to give up halfway through and take a taxi instead. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah yeah I get that a lot.” Gojo comes up behind you without warning, a sultry trickle of sweat trailing down his forehead to the forbidden depths of where he’d unbuttoned his shirt a few times. “But usually it’s ‘gorgeous’ or ‘hot as hell’ or-”

“Oh, shut up.” you breathe, ripping your eyes away and towards the reception. “Get your ass moving now, we’ve gotta get checked in and form a game plan for the meeting.”

“That eager to get me in a bed? Always knew ya had it in you, sweetheart.” Oh, he lets out a shiver at your blazingly dirty look. “I mean- yes, ma’am.”

There aren’t too many visitors, and you choose to do the talking when you walk up to the sweet older lady at the reception, having decided that Gojo has done way too much of that for today. Humming, “Hi there, we’re here for two rooms reserved under the name ‘Yaga’?”

A few taps of her keyboard and she’s flashing you a megawatt smile, “Oh yes, you’re right on time!” Before getting up from her seat, “I’ll be the one escorting the young couple to their honeymoon suite. Just this way-”

And while Gojo breezes past you without a single complaint, you stand frozen in the middle of the cozy wooden room. Reaching out a hand to sputter, “W-wait, surely there must be some mistake? Honeymoon suite?”

Gojo is close enough that he whispers something in her ear, and you already know it doesn’t bode well for you at all. 

“Oh honey don’t worry.” she flutters a flustered hand at you. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with having your dear boyfriend here spend a bit extra on a comfy suite. Either way, it has been booked for a while now and unfortunately nothing can be changed…”

Forgetting yourself, you sneak a glance over at where she had left her desktop on. The tiny letters on screen confirming that yes, this reservation was under the name Yaga. And no, it wasn’t a mistake that the room you were given was a honeymoon suite. 

“Get your ass movin’ now.” Gojo’s voice snaps you out of your little reverie, sounding as if he was on the verge of bursting into laughter while he mocks your earlier words. He grins, “When life gives you lemons- or when Yaga gives you a honeymoon suite…”

---

“Dibs not on the couch.”

“Dibs not on the- wait, no.” Gojo huffs when you’re finally led to your sprawling room, and for all the scandal of it being a honeymoon suite, you have to admit that Yaga had great taste. “Shouldn’t you treat your boyfriend better?”

You’re splaying yourself out on the plush mattress of the bed - the only bed, because of course the universe doesn’t bestow you with a normal work trip. But god none of those cheap motels at the trips you’d gone on with Nanami or Shoko could ever compare to this. 

Mindfully, you push away the rose petals decorating the silken sheets. “Not my problem.” Jutting a thumb towards the small private hot spring allocated for your room outside, “Sleep in the onsen. Might wanna hurry though, it’s getting dark.”

“Please?” 

“I’m kicking you out of this room altogether.”

“Pretty please.”

You feel a rush of begrudging endearment at the way he’s batting his long lashes at you. Suddenly, you’re wondering whether this is why so many at the office can’t get enough of Gojo - why everyone flocks to him as soon as he waltzes into your department for no apparent reason. Struggling to stand firm. “Hasn’t Nanami told you before that adding ‘pretty’ doesn’t work?”

Grumbling, he sets down the bags, swiftly turning around to call out, “Fine, but m’takin’ a shower first, so you better keep any expensive shampoos away or m’stealing with no regrets.”

Mind dizzy with everything from today, it’s all you can do to shuffle through your bag for your laptop. Trembling fingers deciding that if you weren’t going to think too deeply about this, might as well get some work done. 

It’s what you do for a while - to partial success - until you’re pulled out of your spiels of presentations and trying to keep Gojo’s script on subject by the sound of the running water stopping, and the bathroom door clicking open. 

And lo and behold - there stood Gojo. Shirtless. 

The very same asshole that would throw paper clips at you during meetings, and always finished off the last muffin in the break room he knew you’d been eyeing all day. Here he stood - all sharp hip bones and smooth curves of muscle that were always poorly covered by his work clothes. 

Covering almost all of the bathroom doorway with his broad shoulders, speckled with glistening droplets of water that danced tauntingly down, down, down the sharp planes of his collarbones. Down his abs, and onto a trail of white, hidden by a fluffy white towel you have to force your eyes away from. 

“Put some- put some clothes on. You- you-” you’re scrambling urgently for something near you, which unfortunately happened to be a soft cotton you’d pulled out from your bag earlier. “-you lecher.”

Wordlessly, Gojo’s stunned surprise breaks into a brilliant grin when he unfolds the canon of cloth you’d thrown his way. Humming, “You call me a lecher, but you’re the one that wants to see me in your clothes, huh?”

And sure enough - it was. It was as if the universe was playing a practical joke on you because it was your favorite t-shirt, in fact, that ragged Bleach graphic held gently between Gojo’s long, pale fingers. 

You choke out, hastily getting off the bed. “Wait- I take it back.”

“I don’t know.” Gojo teases, holding the t-shirt well over your head. And all you can do is frantically reach and swerve for it, each attempt dodged with a shit-eating grin. “You get the bed, I get this ratty t-shirt, seems like a fair trade to me, no?”

“No.”

Gojo’s face is hovering so close above yours, though, he still keeps the t-shirt safely away from you. “Then I guess this is f’me, silly girl.”

You groan, appreciating the way his breath catches in his throat when you hook an arm around his neck. Reeling him in so close while you still swipe, “No, but what you are going to get is-”

What Gojo was going to get, he never finds out. Because in your frantic effort to steal back the t-shirt you so desperately didn’t want in the hands of the bastard from sales, you don’t pay attention to that slippery pool of water forming around you two from his half-assed attempts at drying off. 

And before you know it, you’re lurching to the floor - you wince, arms held out to break your fall and-

It never happens.

Blinking your eyes open, the first thing you’re met with is what seems like miles upon miles of milky, smooth skin. Breathing in such a heady scent, it’s probably what makes your mind so melty when the realization hits you - a little too late - that you’re being held against Gojo’s chest. 

His painfully bare chest. 

“Satoru?” you breathe. Pawing at where you could feel his racing heartbeat, thumping so painfully against one of his pecs. “Are- are you okay?”

That gets you a hot laugh into your neck, followed by a long, drawn-out shudder that sends shivers down your spine. Through laughs, he manages to grit out, “You’re asking me that?”

He sounds surprised - relieved almost. Such a tender note in his tone at the lack of usual taunting in your words. 

Gojo lets you go - barely, still keeping two strong arms locked around your waist like he was afraid even the slightest distance could have you in danger all over again. “You can take the t-shirt.” He breathes, picking up the damp fabric now fallen onto the floor and pressing it into your palms. “I’m more of a Naruto guy anyway. And you can take the bed, I was jok-”

“You can take it.” 

“What? No-”

“You can.” you cut him off, giving a sidelong glance at the cramped couch tucked into a corner of your suite. Again, you’re drinking in all of him, how tall he was. How warm. How he’d probably have half his body dangling off the side of the cushions, “We can- I mean we can share. We’re adults, right? Wouldn’t want you complaining about a sore back during the contract talks anyway.”

“Worrying about me, sweetheart?” 

“No.” you scowl, pushing him away. “Now excuse you, but I have to use the bathroom since someone was hogging it earlier.”

And if you’d waited just a moment longer - maybe peaked your head out instead of scurrying inside as fast as your legs carried you - you’d have noticed that Gojo was still standing there. A fist clenched at where his heart was, face as pink as those blooming sakura outside. 

---

You didn’t sleep that night. Not one bit. 

It might partially have to do with the fact that your bed was invaded by one very gangly asshole sprawling himself all over the pillow wall you’d constructed. Or maybe to do with the aching discomfort in your joints after moving to sleep on the hard couch after only a few minutes of him getting knocking out. 

“Good morning~” Gojo’s sing-song voice rings through your verging murderous thoughts on the second day. “The sun is shining, my skin is glowing and-” His bleary eyes lock on your hunched figure across the room, looking genuinely confused as to how you got here. “-you’re on the couch?” 

“Yeah. Considered taking ya out in your sleep but then I realized the contract would be in jeopardy.”

He whines, “I’ve- I’ve never had anyone complain before.”

“They probably ran away before that.” you nod solemnly over his sputtering complaints. Stretching, content with the pop of your bones. “Don’t look at me like that, it wasn’t that bad.”

You look away when Gojo mimics your actions, sleep shirt lifting to reveal a sliver of white tufts at the hem of his boxers. He pouts, sulky eyes still locked on you, “But still, should’ve kicked me out. I would’ve expected you to instead of taking that shitty couch. Seems like something that guy would do.”

Your heart pangs - just a bit - and you let out a sharp laugh, “Fine, I’ll kick you out tonight. Maybe.” It’s genuine, it really is, and in the growing silence all Gojo can manage to do is fall back into your little familiar dance of teasing.

“Going soft on me? Y’know it’s usually the ladies crawling into my bed not out of it-” 

“Oh fuck you. I take it back, I will kick you out of the room itself. Have fun sleeping in the onsen, you smug bastard.”

He squawks in protest when you throw a cushion at him. Several, actually, just for good measure. “Mercy, woman! I’m delicate!”

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

When Gojo falls back into the comfort of the silky soft sheets, you heave out a sigh. Making your way to the sliding doors, still fully expecting a flustered employee telling you that this was all a mistake and of course, you two weren’t booked for the honeymoon suite. 

“Yes?” you answer, eyes widening when you spot that familiar man in front of you. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh god, it’s you.” Naoya spits, gaze heating up. “Of course, I should’ve known it’s you and that idiot boyfriend of yours makin’ so much noise next door.”

Great. Perfect. Wonderful. As if this trip couldn’t get any better. 

You pinch your nose, echoing hollowly, “What do you want?”

“Exactly that. Don’t make so much noise, neighbor. I don’t care what limp dick he’s giving you-” 

“Is that all?” you ask dryly, fully knowing there’s more he’s just aching to hurl at you. Before tucking yourself further behind the door, “If that’s all then I hafta go back to that ‘limp dick’.”

“What’s this about limp dick?” Goosebumps run along your arms when you feel something soft - hot - push up from behind you. From the corner of your eye, you spy a long milky hand flex as Gojo - shirtless - cages you in the doorway, “Because it sure can’t be mine then. Won’t you agree, my girl?”

Your face burns at the knowing wink Gojo throws your way, barely managing to hasten, “Uh- yeah.”

“She doesn’t sound very convinced.” Naoya narrows his eyes at your minute expressions, knowing you uncomfortably well after so long. “Guess she’s been missing a real man, huh?”

He scoffs, and you gulp heavily when soft lips kiss a gentle trail up the side of your neck, “Well who’s the one that’s been makin’ her scream all mornin’?” Gojo tilts his head innocently, blatantly showing off a ruddy splotch from where you’d attacked him with a cushion earlier, the zipper leaving a suspicious mark. “Like I said at the train station, she can make her own choices and she’s long forgotten your sorry ass so don’t even try it, you two-toned little bastard.”

Wrapping a possessive arm around your waist, you’re easily tugged back into the safety of your suite - and into Gojo’s sculpted front. You don’t push him away as your immediate thought was to, the feeling was right - too right.

“Satoru?” you hiss once the door is slammed shut.

“Hm?” he whispers hotly into the crook of your neck. 

Still pressed up so close that you can feel the surge and dip of his chest when he breathes you in deeply. “Why are you shirtless?”

“Uh- did I ever tell you I was a method actor, sweetheart?”

---

Unfortunately, despite being in one of the most picturesque hotspots that Kyoto had to offer, a work trip - especially one with such a high profile client and his protegé - meant that the two of you spent most of the day cooped up in your room, typing away on your laptops. 

“Ugh, this sucks.” Gojo groans for about the seventh time this hour. Running a hand tiredly through his hair, “Are you always such a hardass about contracts like this? Honestly, I can’t even feel my legs and it is not in the good way-”

“You pussy.” you grumble as you chug down another can of coffee, eyes flickering to the clock at the end of the room reading 11:00PM. “You don’t see me complaining.” 

He only scoffs, “Of course ya wouldn’t complain, this shit probably gets you off. But unfortunately for those of us that have lives-” 

You click your tongue, rubbing the oncoming headache that always seems to appear when you’re near Gojo. “Yeah, because talkin’ out of your ass and being a public nuisance is such a great life.”

“C’mon now, I see you picking at that blanket - my blanket, by the way - like it insulted your entire bloodline. You’re not slick, you wanna get outta here too.” At your pointed silence, he’s kicking his legs in the air, very much the toddler you knew him to be. “That’s- that’s it I can’t-”

Before you can react, Gojo is barrelling through the sliding doors of your suite. Long legs carrying up the short pathway that led to that private hot spring.

You’re following him before you realize it, “What- what are you- oh!”

You couldn’t cover your eyes fast enough. Being gifted with a brief, obscene eyeful of pale skin - leading all the way down his naked back, and even further when he cannonballs straight into the pool of water. 

Shit, maybe this was why the others at the office loved him so much. 

And it was hard not to understand it when Gojo’s drenched head poked out from under the hot water. White strands plastered to his forehead, a blush creeping down his skin at the head, looking at you with slightly-red, damp eyes that only seemed bluer through the steam.

“Yeah yeah I know I didn’t rinse before and I know I didn’t finish our project yet but-” he grins a grin that you don’t think you could ever forget. And you don’t know whether how hot you feel is from the onsen or him. Reaching out a soaked, strong arm towards you. “-won’t you help me get out?”

You startle, clearly not having expected this request. Narrowing your eyes suspiciously as you inch closer, “Get out?” He nods eagerly, fingers intertwining softly with yours. “Fine but-”

Whatever scream you might’ve let out is swallowed up by water- then air. 

Then more very deserved yelling, of course. “Satoru what the fuck-” Your nails dig into his deltoids, sure to leave some very questionable marks but you didn’t care at this moment. Wiping away the water in your face while he holds you up easily, “I’m gonna kill you.”

“Yeah yeah, can’t kill me when you’re clinging to me like this, sweetheart.” Gojo rolls his eyes, but he makes no move to push you off. In fact, he only tightens the arm around your hips. “You looked like you needed that, the 8 hours of straight working like Yaga was havin’ you act like him.”

Somehow, you don’t feel strange about the fact that you’re being pushed up against a very painfully naked Gojo. Living out what is probably the wet dream for about half the office.

He notices, of course he does. 

“Trynna take a peek?” Gojo wiggles his brows. And when you’re trying to hide away behind your hands, he nuzzles them away, arms a bit too occupied holding you captive. Sighing dramatically, “No need to be shy, many people do. I don’t mind of course, ah the woes of being fucking hot.”

Gasping, “Fuck you.” Unbeknownst as to why, you’re laughing. Contemplating whether you should really give him a good kick down below when you choke out, “You’re an asshole, y’know?”

“I know.” he smiles. “N’ yet you still haven’t drowned me.”

“I really fuckin’ hate you.”

Why could you really fucking kiss him right now? 

“I know.”

The moment is broken only a few seconds later by some ungodly screeching you recognize to be none other than your beloved ex’s from next door. Yelling about “Shut the fuck up, if you’re gonna have onsen sex I’m calling the front lobby.”

“What? Can’t a man fuck his girl in peace?” Gojo shouts back. “Shut up just because your puny dick can’t get some, two-tone.”

That broke whatever magical spell was put on the two of you, obviously. And you were the first to run back to the suite - leaving Gojo and his nakedness alone. Very, very alone. 

He takes a bit longer to follow you, and you’re already freshened up and in bed by the time he makes his way to the bathroom - with clothes this time, fortunately for your sanity. 

Only a few minutes later, he’s nestling right next to you on the bed. You gasp in a sharp inhale at the heat of his proximity, mere millimeters away from you now. 

“Good work today, by the way.” Gojo gruffs out to your turned back, quiet words carrying over that ridiculous extra-vaulted wall of pillows, padded up with ones from the couch, too. Silver tongue stumbling over his words slightly, “For how much I complained I didn’t get to tell ya. You and I - mainly I - are gonna ace that contract tomorrow.”

There’s no taunting in his tone, not one bit. And you surprise the both of you when you murmur out shakily, “I’m worried.”

“Huh?” he chokes in disbelief. “Listen, I know I slept through that meeting one time, but I swear it was only one time. I’m a…somewhat changed man, I promise I won’t-”

“Not that.”

He pauses at your interruption. All is quiet - only the chirping of crickets outside, and the steamy buzz of nearby hot springs. 

And for the first time in the twenty-something years Gojo Satoru has wreaked havoc upon this Earth, he is rendered speechless. Wordlessly picking apart your wall of pillows - one by one, as if to give you more than enough time to stop him - to loop two strong arms around you. 

“Shut up.” he breathes. ��You’ll do brilliant, silly girl.”

---

Gojo remembers the exact date he met you - probably the exact time, too. Honestly, even three whole years after that initial meeting, he can’t remember anything but that, if you asked him to recall a single meeting held that week then Gojo honestly wouldn’t have been able to tell you. 

It was a regular day spent driving poor Nanami over in the marketing department dangerously close to his fifth migraine of the day.

“You know I know I’m a valuable asset to this company Nanamin.” he chuckles, looking over where the other man was readying a sparkly Welcome! banner. “But this is all too much even for me~”

“It’s not for you.” Nanami spits, curtly. Barely sparing Gojo a glance before readying the welcome muffins, “It’s for the new head of department arriving soon today.”

And oh that piqued his interest like never before. That had all thoughts of the meeting he was currently missing flying out the window as he wondered what you would be like. Swiping away a few of those tempting muffins right out of Ichiji’s hands, he wonders. Would you be another Ichiji? Would you try and keep him under your thumb like Yaga? Hah, you could try but-

“Look I don’t know if the sales department doesn’t have food but, really?” 

What?

A shudder wracks through the oh-so-great Gojo’s body at the sound of your cool, firm tone turning to meet the source and-

Oh. Oh wow. So that’s what it’s like to have your soul impaled and buried six feet under.

It was sort of addicting.

And if Gojo thought his knees were weak at just a gorgeous glare from you - well, he was completely and utterly unprepared for when he leaned in closer to where you stood firmly. Shielding a pale, trembling Ichiji. And, honestly, with a death stare like that you couldn’t blame a guy for getting nervous! It’s all he could do to hum out a cocky, “What? Want some, sweetheart?”

“Sweetheart? What I want is you out of my department.” you furrow your brows. “Now.”

It’s all that’s said before you’re dragging him by his hand out - and, shit Gojo is so riveted by how soft your hands are that he almost forgets to be offended by the way the entire marketing department just watches and giggles at the scene playing out before them. Traitors.

You push him out of the door, “I better not see you coming back to toy with my new employees-” Heavy gaze flickering down to his name tag. “-Gojo.”

Ah, truly a woman of his dreams. 

And it honestly still felt like a dream even now - especially now - when you’re stood in front of him on the third day in Kyoto. Fingers messing meticulously with your hair as you check your reflection in the mirror, smoothing down your new red dress. “God, I hope it isn’t too much. How do I look?”

Perfect, he wants to say. 

But instead he nudges your shoulder in the booth of your seat, settling for an obnoxious, “Alright, not as good as me, though.” Gojo takes delight in the way you give his arm a punch, smile a lot easier than before now. 

“As if, you can’t even tie this properly. Here-” your fingers fiddle deftly with his slightly crooked tie. “Fixed it, you big baby.”

He grins, “If you wanted to get your hands on me then you should’ve- oh wait you already have, haven’t you? I remember that someone bypassed her own lil’ pillow wall last night.”

“Shut up.” you give him a tight warning. “They’re here.”

Honestly, there was only one thing worse than seeing old Gakuganji - that is, the sight of his sniveling protegé following him right after. Except- 

“Two-tone?” 

“Y-you!”

There’s a tense silence between the three of you in the exquisite onsen dining hall, one that almost makes you want to jump up and bolt back to your room because this can’t be real. Surely, this can’t be-

“I see the three of you are already acquainted?” Gakuganji’s strained, aged voice cuts through your whirlwind of thoughts. “Sit, sit, Naoya. That only makes things easier.”

As a fuming Naoya and an oblivious Gakuganji take their seats in front of the two of you, you feel the undeniable pressure of long, warm fingers squeezing your own. Reassuring. And it makes you flash the two men your best, most polished business smile, “So, about the contract.”

---

“I’m going to throw up.”

“Satoru.”

“No, I will throw up. And that will not be good for my reputation.”

“Satoru, if you throw up I’m beating your ass.”

He narrows his eyes at your heated whisper, matching you with a low, “Damn keep it for the bedroom sweetheart. We still hafta wait till Gakuganji comes back with his decision.” 

“Ahem!”

It’s that annoyed, grating faux cough that drags you and Gojo out of your little world - back to reality in which no, unfortunately while your primary client has gone off to take an important business call regarding your contract, you were left to babysit his protegé.

“Yes, Naoya.” you give him a dry grin. It was nearing well into late night at this point, and most of the other visitors had cleared out except for the reserved table you were sitting in. “Do you want to be beat up, too?”

He only points an accusing finger at the two of you, “Don’t play games with me you hear. I’ve already got you figured out, coming here on a business trip and dating your coworker all the same-” Both you and Gojo raise a brow at this, what an idiot. “-you two will be fired for this.”

You catch Gojo’s eye and try not to burst out laughing, “As if. And trust me, I wouldn’t be here if I knew that you were Gakuganji’s new protegé.”

“Not because the guy you have to be here with is the same one you told me you hated back then?” he spits. “Honestly, you’d have been better off with me than this ‘pompous, no-good nepo baby asshole’ as you loved to put it.”

And you knew that Gojo was aware of your little rivalry - hell, he was an active participant, more than happy to rile you up every time. But that still didn’t stop you from tensing up when you spared a glance at the man beside you. 

Surprised to see that unapologetic smirk on his face, “Of course she did.” Looking down at you with what you swore was such unimaginably deep fondness in his eyes. “I probably imagine she told you all the funny ways she wanted to get back at me, too? Banning me from the marketing department? Holding an anti-Gojo campaign? Strangling?” Gojo takes Naoya’s shocked silence as enough of an answer, “Guess what, she did hate me, probably still can’t stand me. Very understandably so, because she’s hot as fuck when she’s mad.”

Despite his furrowed brow and the angry slash of his mouth, Naoya can’t stop himself from blurting out, “W-well how did you-”

“We fuck it out, of course.”

And perhaps for the one time on this entire trip, the universe smiles down at you. You find yourself sighing in relief at the sight of Gakuganji nearing your table, evidently done with his phone call. Thank fuck, you weren’t ready for a fight to break out and this dress was too expensive to ruin. 

“Seems you three are getting along well.” the old man drones out, and by the tone of his voice you genuinely can’t tell whether he was joking or not. Turning towards you and Gojo, “Well, after that very thorough presentation and careful consideration with the board at our Kyoto branch, we have all come to a unanimous decision.” You wait with bated breath for his next few words, “Where do we sign?”

Naoya stands in his seat, “But- but, sir.” He cringes, as furious as the last time you’d seen him a year ago. “You can’t sign off on this deal- not with these scumming, absolute little shits.”

“Naoya.” Gakuganji’s voice carries a warning. “You are dismissed.”

Ah, Gojo chuckles inwardly, exactly where he wanted him. 

It seemed like a blur after that - a blur of signed contracts and Gojo making faces at an ashen-faced Naoya behind Gakuganji’s back, of being told that the two of you simply “must visit” their offices in Kyoto one day - much to your exes absolute torture. To which Gojo had replied with a smug, “Of course, my girlfriend and I will. Won’t we, sweetheart?” Just loud enough that Naoya - who’d been banned to a nearby table - could fume over. 

And it’s how you found yourself pulling a giggly Gojo by his lapels back to your suite, hasty and desperate. Tripping over one another as you stumble in. 

“Easy there on the merchandise, sweetheart.” he jests, but it sounds so strained even to him. “Can’t break our streak and kill each other on the last day now, can we?”

Your laughter dies down, “Hey, Satoru?”

“Oh no…”

“Why did you call me your girlfriend even at the end back then?”

His brows scrunch up, pleading almost. He chokes out, “Just- you- I just-” Flicking a calculated finger right in the middle of your forehead, “You think too much, did you know that? Hate to see this pretty face like this, did you see his reaction?”

“Oh my god yes did you see his face, Satoru?” you’re pressing him against the wall to steady yourselves. Feeling so drunk off the evening and him. “Naoya looked like he was going to explode right then and there. We did so good.”

“What did I tell, ya? I always know everything, silly girl.” Two big arms wrap around yours in a congratulatory hug - or, at least, what you think is a congratulatory hug. And if his palms dip just a bit lower than your waist - if this was just a bit inappropriate - neither of you say anything. “Mhm. Don’t even know what you dated that fool in the first place, he’s not even in your league.” 

You scoff, “Gee thanks.”

“No no, not in that way, don’t ever think in that way, stupid.” A long index comes up to tilt your chin up to meet his greedy gaze. “You’re too gorgeous for him. Besides, he spoke like a man who couldn’t even find the clit.”

“Well- he did find it.” you relish in that deepening furrow of Gojo’s brow, the way the muscles in his jaw tick just right. “But wanna hear a secret?” Those soft baby hair at the nape of his neck raise when you’re whispering in his ear, barely even waiting for his dazed nod. “He still never made me cum.”

“...Never?”

“Never.”

There’s a beat of silence, one. Two. 

Shit. 

You’d long expected Gojo’s smart mouth to make some kind of insulting joke by now. And you’re halfway through wondering whether you’d overshared too much, untangling your arms from his vice-like embrace before-

“I would.” he rasps, breaths ragged. You’re tilting your head in confusion when he repeats cockily, “I would’ve made you cum, y’know. How could I not?”

There’s a snarky little part of you that makes you quick a brow, a sultry smirk playing on your lips. “Is that an offer?”

Gojo’s arms loop around you tight - almost too tight, you could almost hear your poor bones popping in protest. “It’s a promise.”

Oh that’s all you wanted to hear right about now. And he can fucking see the goosebumps that make their way down your exposed shoulders, he can practically hear that syrupy sweet tone that was really not good for his sanity. 

“Prove it, Satoru.”

His lips are crashing against yours like they’re magnetized - and it’s nothing like what you’d imagine kissing Gojo Satoru would’ve been like. Nothing suave, shallow. It’s sloppy, a mess of teeth and lips and his tongue tasting every inch of your candied lips like he couldn’t get enough. Like he didn’t even want to breathe for fear of losing out on your pretty mouth. 

“Fuck-” Gojo hisses, delicate strings of spit snapping as he pulls away ever-so-slightly to take in the delicious sight of you all glossy eyed with swollen lips. “Fuck you’re so beautiful. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this.”

Kissing you over and over like he couldn’t get enough. Like he didn’t want to get enough, you’re moaning when Gojo slips his tongue past the seam of your lips. Addicted to the distinct taste of him and those cheap cherry lollipops you always caught him sucking on in the break room.

He’s drawing back in a way that has him drinking in your soft noises, big palms kneading your body over your dress. 

“Sa- Sato-” you’re gasping out when he flips you over to press you up against the wall. Assaulting your bruised lips with heated peck after peck. “What do you- mean-”

He groans, lips moving to kiss down the quivering column of your throat, “Shut up- Just shut up and kiss me. God, for how much I love that mouth of yours, you talk way too much, sweetheart.”

And that was really rich coming from him - but you don’t get to snark back at him. Because no sooner are the words out of your mouth that Gojo decides he’s had enough of playing nice - that is, if he was in the first place. 

Immediately fiddling towards that cold metal zipper in the back, gliding down the red fabric right along with your bra- shit, when did he even unclip it?

“You-” you sputter, the cool chill of the bedroom pebbles your sensitive nipples. The dawning feeling that this absolute thorn at your side might be much more than just talk has your thighs pressing together. Leveling him with a narrow look, “You are such a whore, aren’t you?”

He flashes you a sheepish grin, large palms groping your tits. “Would ya believe me if I told you it was from how many times I’d imagined this before?”

“Absolutely not.”

This earns you a sharp smack! gifted onto the fat of your ass, the five pads of Gojo’s fingers burning onto where your dress was hiking up. 

“Always need to talk back, don’t you?” he spits, shoving a knee between your two legs. Such an innocently handsome grin splashing across his face at the soft moan you let out, grinding purposefully against that damp mound of your needy cunt. “Why won’t you ever hah- believe me?” He has one hand shoving your dress down, down, down. The other dragging your sloppy hips down his muscled thigh, “You wanna hear a secret? Stick your tongue out f’me like a good girl now, sweetheart.” 

And oh you wanted to fight back. To outright refuse to comply so brattily, but it’s all you can do to nod blearily, feeling so fucking dirty with the way you’re letting your tongue loll out. Whining when Gojo smushes your cheeks together into an obscene pucker, into the perfect target for him to spit once. Twice. 

“Yeah, take it- that’s my girl. A secret for a secret, right?” Gojo smiles so darkly, swiping away that thick splatter of syrupy saliva dredged up on the corner of your mouth. Intentional, of course. His words are low but clear, unable to have you mistaking them for anything else when he says, “That time I slept through the whole meeting? Wasn’t sleepin’.”  He bites down on your earlobe, licking lightly. “S’just, I happened to see that cute new skirt you were wearing that day, it was so short- so fuckin’ tight. Couldn’t bear to show my face, not after I’d just spent the past few hours with my hand wrapped around my cock, wondering all the sweet things I could do to you in it.”

You’re gasping, “You’re so fucking filthy.”

“Yeah yeah.” he purrs, toying with the hem of your now dress, the red cloth now dangling somewhere at your thighs. “And don’t pretend you’re not just as dirty, hardass. Actin’ all prudish when ya dress like this underneath.”

As if to prove his point, the back of one of his fingers is gliding across where your lacy black panties were peeking out. Groaning at the sopping wet fabric, “Yeah, just as dirty as I thought.”

With his little hypothesis confirmed, it’s all that Gojo has to do to pick you up with one arm hooking under your already trembly thighs. You’re keening when he plants another solid smack on the fat of your ass, “Satoru!”

“Ohh, I love that. Say it again.” he murmurs, walking slowly to the edge of your shared bed. Savoring that feeling of your drooling cunt seeping through to paint a small dark patch on his suit. “I said, say it again.”

All it takes is another harsh slap against your ass, and a honeyed drag of Gojo’s name for him to splay you out like some slut on the soft silken sheets. You find yourself pulling him back by his broad shoulders when he takes the moment to admire just how gorgeous you looked. Even better than any daydream that mind of his could think of. 

“Sa-toru-” you mewl, and he only licks his lips as if in a daze. Not knowing where to look - at that needy, already-cockdrunk glaze over your eyes, at the way your flimsy dress wrapped around the plush of your thighs, at that glistening little patch on the plump mound of your cunt. So mouthwatering. “Satoru- Sa- Toru!”

That makes him snap out of his little hypnosis. “What did you call me?” he breathes. 

You bat your lashes deceivingly innocently up at him, “Sato-”

“No.” he’s cutting you off, Adam’s apple bobbing with the heavy gulp he takes. Thumbing at your puffy lips as if to drag the same words out of you - have them going straight to his achy cock once more. “That other one. Don’t play stupid with me, silly girl, you know exactly what I’m talking about.” 

Oh, you did. 

And you’re feeling the way your dripping pussy clenches with anticipation when you whine out that little nickname once more. “Toru, please.” Adding a little flair to have Gojo’s rosy lips fall into a soft oh! choking on a ragged low hiss when a hand of his subconsciously goes down to squeeze his bulging erection. 

“Oh yes, m’name sounds so fuckin’ cute on your lips.” he groans. The sheets below you two rustling with movement when he shuffles urgently downwards, “Sounds so fucking good it makes me wanna-” 

RIP!

“-know if she sounds it out just as pretty as you.”

You’re still reeling from the tatters of what remained of your favorite red dress being thrown unapologetically onto the tatami mats below. Huffing in irritation, “Satoru, if you’re ngh- dead if you don’t replace that-”

He’s shutting you up with another quiet smack onto your heated skin - this time at your shamefully spread inner thighs, the edges of his padded fingers just barely touching on your swollen folds. “Yeah yeah, I’ll buy ya the whole fuckin’ store if I have to.” Before hovering so close you could feel every hitch of his hot breath on your beading cunt, “And m’gonna make it so you don’t dare call me that again.”

You don’t have a response to that - and anything you might’ve taunted back is being knocked out of your mouth. The only thing leaving it being slurred little whimpers of Gojo’s name when he licks a long, languid stripe up your puffy slit. 

“Oh, look at that.” he chuckles. Pushing apart your thighs to get a nice greedy look at every drop of your sweet sweet juices glistening in the dim lighting. “Think she’s more mouthy than you, if tha’s even possible, heh.”

His long, eager tongue is slurping up every syrupy drop of your slick. Again. And again. And again and again and-

“Fuck- Toru.” your fingers find their way weaving into his soft strands when the very tip of his soft tongue finds its way just past your folds. Arching your spine off the plush bed needily like some slut, “Need you to- hngh- go deeper.”

The only response you’re getting is a sultry, smug grin being spread across your pussy lips. Feeling everything from the quirk of his cupid’s bow, to that dimple at the edge of Gojo’s smirk, “Knew you were needy, but this- this is fucking amazing.”

“Guess you’re all bark no bite, huh?” you pout, voice teetering into teasingly whiny. And oh how you love the way that wipes all the cockiness from Gojo’s face. “Even Naoya was able to actually eat me out the way I-”

It’s like it killed him to hear those goading words from you - and something snaps before he’s shoving that pretty face of his back nose-deep into your addictive pussy. 

Slotting his tongue up and down your hot slit. Up and down up and down up and-

“F-fuck, oh Toru-” you squeal when he wastes no time pushing past that snug little ring of resistance to reach deep into your gummy walls. Barely even giving you any warning - Gojo’s eyes roll to the back of his head at how sinfully tight you were squeezing him. “Shit how are you in so deep-”

And that petty, petty little part of him doesn’t answer, instead gliding up a determined thumb up to draw methodical circles on your throbbing clit. Fast. So so sloppy with the way he was letting your juices dribble past his knuckles, his wrist, forming a glossy sheen all the way down to the sheets. Matching the ruthless cadence of the way he was fucking your ravaged cunt the way he wished he could do with his rock-hard cock right now. 

“Ah!” you gasp, when one swipe of his tongue sends jolts of pure white-hot pleasure running up your spine. And that’s all Gojo has to hear before he’s attacking your hidden sweet spot over and over. “F-fuck s’too good. Fuckin’ hate how your big mouth is- ngh- so good at this-”

That causes a husky rasp of laughter to bubble its way out of Gojo’s throat, and he’s pinning your wildly bucking hips down with one arm. “Don’t you dare run away now. You’re so cute when you’re cockdrunk and truthful like this, silly girl.”

The vibrations have you moaning out a feverish Toru! Toru! Toru! louder than ever, wrenching out of you with every crash of his soft tongue against your sensitive spots. Every harsh swivel on your clit, just harder on the tip, softer at the curve. 

“Yeah- yeah yeah yeah, say my name like that.” he gasps, spitting out hissy profanities into your velvety walls. You were squeezing him so tight it was almost difficult to bully his tongue into your plushy walls. To keep up his mean staccato - but fuck, it didn’t matter if his fingers were cramping up, it didn’t matter if his tongue was getting tired. Because Gojo Satoru was one stubborn man. “Louder-”

“T-Toru!”

“No no,” you’re jolting at the feeling of something cool and glossy hitting your cunt in a harsh glob. Gojo barely wastes any time thumbing his spit in to mix with the mess made down below, letting your ears ring with such obscene squelches that have your cheeks burning. “Hear this, sweetheart?” As if there’s anything else you could hear, he’s pulling out those sultry sounds from you. “She’s louder than you, n’ that makes me so sad-” You fuck up further and further into Gojo’s tongue, eyes locked with his down in his favorite position between your legs. “-my girl can be ah- loud f’me, right? Say my name, say it so the whole fuckin’ onsen hears.”

“Toru—”

He’s taunting you in that same honeyed tone, “Louder.” Murmuring even deeper into your cunt, “C’mon, louder. Tell it to me.”

“Toru! Fuck- m-close-” It’s probably the last understandable sentence you’re managing to moan out before you finally cum. Wave after wave of such filthy pleasure hitting you, it’s all you can do to tighten your grip on his hair. Angling and using leverage to grind your hips down deeper, jolting with every flick of his tongue sending stars behind your eyelids. And Gojo, satisfied, shuts up to let you ride his face through your high. Using him, just dragging your sloppy pussy all over his tongue, his mouth. Over and over.

“Jus’ a bit more-” you hear him whisper out so sweetly over your ringing ears. Suddenly, your limp hands fall to the sides of that drenched pool you’ve made. And yet Gojo is still going, still meshing his bruised lips so messily against your own, making out with your cunt in a way that has him so depraved. “Just some more, pretty girl- you taste so addictive.”

Big fat tears of overstimulation prick at your eyes, and you’re sobbing out, “W-wait- fuck m’too sensitive for that.”

“You can handle it, you’re a big- fuck- a big girl, aren’t ya?” he groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head with every taste of your pussy. Surging forwards despite the hold you have on his hair, “Hold on- just want a bit more- you don’t know how long-”

The pout he’s giving you once you have to just drag him away like a man starved, fighting against the grip you have on him. 

But oh Gojo looks so pretty, cloudy bangs pulled back to reveal his delicately blushing face, lips painted in a glossy sheen of your slick. Slobbering down, down, down to glisten across the bottom half of his face. Looking so bruised with how greedy he was, almost the same color as those cherry lollipops he loved so much. And his eyes - fuck, his eyes - glassy and half-lidded, hazy with a sheen that told you he was already completely and utterly pussydrunk out of his sanity. 

“Toru…” you start, unable to tear your eyes away from the way he moans at the mere sound of your voice. “Your turn.”

It’s a long endeavor to get rid of Gojo’s pants - or, at least that’s what it feels like. 

Hooking a still-shaky leg over his toned waist, you’re slamming his muscular frame down onto the mattress. Buttons hitting the floor when you all but tear his overpriced button-up off - because, really, it’s not you two if one of you doesn’t get your revenge somehow.

“These- these damn belts.” you scoff, too-eager fingers fumbling with the metal latches of Gojo’s belt. “Why does it have to have so many-”

“You’re so cute when you’re eager this way, silly girl.” he’s cupping the side of your face. Free hand easily unbuckling his belt, and the heady metallic sounds are enough to have your cunt so needy. “Like this-”

You’re gasping when he finally takes his formal dress pants off - along with those uselessly precum-soaked boxers. Sticky and leaving a lewd trail of glossy down his milky, sculpted thighs. 

And oh if you thought Gojo was pretty before then he was a fucking masterpiece right now. All tall, lean muscle that rippled with every minute movement. Curves and dips of sculpted skin being accentuated so perfectly against the dim lightning in your suite. 

So infuriating at how that couldn’t give you a better look at his massive, swollen length. So long and girthy, hefty where his fat head was leaking silky precum all over his abs. Such a delicate pink matching his lips at the head, dancing down, down his thick, prominent veins to those tufts of soaked white at his sharp pelvis. Fuck, he was so big - could you actually take him?

Wrapping your soft palm around Gojo’s furiously throbbing fast, you’re letting him coat you hand in a sinful sheen. And you can’t help but wonder what he’d taste like, too-

“Hold on right there, my dirty girl.” your slowly dipping head is tilted firmly by Gojo. “As much as hngh- fuck you’re squeezing me so tight- as much as this has been fuck- all I’d dreamt of since that office ice cream party. I just know m’gonna cum as soon as you put that smart mouth on me, sweetheart.” He’s kissing gently at your lips, sucking on your lower lip. “And I just know you’re never gonna fuck– let me live that down.”

You smirk, “Not gonna live that ice cream party thing, either, Toru.”

“He flashes you such a devilish smile, steadying your hips to straddle him messily. Spreading your legs on either side of his weepy tip. “Oh, fuck off.”

You hiss when you’re feeling the hot kiss his head is planting on your sensitive pussy lips, “Fuck you.”

“No.” Gojo chuckles, powerful thighs curling up to plant his feet on the mattress. Waiting. Anticipating. “I’m fucking you-”

It’s barely even a warning - laughable, really - how that’s all he’s gifting you with before bullying the very tip of his fat cock into your snug cunt in a sloppy hit. 

He groans, eyes fighting to roll to the back of his head but caught so so greedily on the way you swollen pussy lips are being spread so obscenely to swallow every single inch after fucking inch. Disappearing down into your gooey walls, Gojo’s breath hitches at the first sign of resistance from your too-tight entrance. 

“C’mon now.” he moans gutturally. Hips fucking up in a jagged, slow grind, trying so desperately to plunge himself in deeper. “C’mon c’mon come- on-” 

“Toru!” you’re gasping when he slides his soaked length even deeper. Feeding in to the way your gummy walls want more more more more- “You’re so fuckin’ hngh- impatient.”

“Me?” he’s asking, voice a few octaves higher and dripping with the audacity to sound so genuinely in disbelief. “You’re- you’re saying that I’m impatient. Oh, sweetheart-” you blink back the lusty haze in your eyes to look down at Gojo fully, spying that upwards curl of his lips that you knew didn’t mean well for you right now. “-look down.”

Your eyes widening as you’re whirling downwards to spy the way he’s not even halfway in yet. But that’s not all, no, your poor pussy is just absolutely bulging around his girthy shaft, struggling, stretched to their limits - yet still quivering with the effort to try and milk something delicious out of him. 

And the moment that tiny, shaky gasp leaves your mouth, his sharp hip bones are just crashing into yours. Toned hips lifting off of the bed to drive his achy cock into your drooling cunt. One hand kneads and gropes the flesh of your ass to steady you down, down, down-

“Toru-” you’re moaning, like a mantra, once his angry tip is gliding across the spongy wall of your cervix. The stretch too much, Gojo’s cock so thick in his girth that you could feel each and every sweet spot of yours being dragged down his length. “F-fuck, Toru!”

He chuckles, gritting out through those long, determined grinds. Having himself now fully stuffed inside your cunt, heavy balls kissing at the curve of your ass, pubic hair scratching up against your needy clit.  “Can’t hah- keep quiet, can you? Fuckin’ love how needy she is- how needy you are.”

“Sh-shut up-” you mewl, narrowing your eyes. 

“Hah- I would.” Gojo grins out so smugly. Tilting you precariously on top of him like some ragdoll to easily give your g-spot a mean crash of his greedy head. “But you can’t.”

And of course, he’s proving his own point by bouncing you in a heady, fast tandem, abs burning with the ache to fuck you so rude. Gojo spits once on two of his long, slender fingers, letting this lewd coating smear down to his knuckles before dipping them down to spread your puffy folds even farther. 

“Fuuuck, jus’ look at you.” he rasps, the deep baritone of his voice having your gummy walls mold even harder onto the shape of his cock. Gojo throws his had back, twitching balls squeezing harder with every increasing smack against your ass. “Shit shit shit- how that bastard had you hngh- all to himself and didn’t make th-this pretty pussy come everyday I’ll never understand.” He’s pulling you down with a hand to the back of your neck, tightening, “So don’t we hah- rub it in his ugly face?”

Shit, the thought has you grinding and stuttering your hips down to meet Gojo’s unforgiving cadence, arching your body into him like you couldn’t get enough. 

“You just got- hngh- so impossibly harder at that.” you push his bucking shoulders down onto the mattress. Now fully riding him just as much as he was fucking you into the mattress so animalistically. “And you call me needy.”

He scoffs, “I’m not the only one.” The fingers still lingering on your cunt moving to toy with your pulsing sensitive nub, teasing and toying your clit between two fingers. “Can you just h-hear how loud this pussy of yours is? Bet he can hear too.”

And it was true, the wet smacks were only getting louder. Sloppier. Squelching with the push and pull of Gojo’s pounding cock in the same maddening staccato. 

But still - you weren’t going to be compliant that easily. Feeling the familiar tingles of your high edging closer, you wanted to break him just one more time. “Nah- I don’t think he can.”

“Oh you’re gonna regret that, silly girl.”

In all of two seconds - maybe even less than - Gojo’s using his immense strength to his advantage. Flipping the two of you over so your back is hitting the soaked sheets, droopy legs thrown over your shoulder to plow into you in such a mean mating press he has you folded into. 

The new change in angle makes it even easier for him to be kissing your g-spot. Bruising. Branding his name onto your sweet spots - your cervix - so you wouldn’t forget. So you can’t forget.

“F-fuck, Toru-” you’re letting out staggered gasps every time he rams his hefty cock into you. Fingers still relentless on your clit - playing around with it as much as he was playing with your sanity. “I’m so-”

“What was that?” he interrupts through sloppy, stuttering thrusts. Free hand cupping his ear so goadingly, ‘Can’t hear you, sweetheart.“

“Toru-” you’re squealing over his rapidly accelerating movements. Fighting to babble out coherently, “Toru m’close-”

“Louder.” he’s grinning meanly. Hips burning with slowly fatiguing effort because he’s so close, your slick walls are massaging him so tight. But where’s the fun if there’s no teasing? “Still can’t hear ya.”

Your voice is shot at this point, “Toru, m’gonna cum-”

“Louder or m’not gonna let you.”

“Toru! Fuck fuck fuck m’cumming.” It hits him before those loud moans are even leaving your mouth, because your velvety walls are clamping down so snug. Molding to the shape of him, your heels digging even deeper on his shoulder, nails raking red red patterns down the pale skin of his biceps. “M’cumming- ngh-”

And fuck each and every slam of his hips sends electricity up your spine, bullying you through your high. Dragging it out till you think you could go insane. 

“God- fuck you’re so-” It’s the only hoarse grunt leaving Gojo’s lips before he’s spilling thick rope after rope of seed into the awaiting channel of your pussy. “So perfect f’me.”

Two hands of his lace above your head, pushing you so impossibly deep down his thick hilt. He’s cumming and cumming so hard like he never has in his life, body out of control with the way he’s stuffing you with every drop of seed. 

He shivers at the overspill, gushing out of the corners of your ravaged cunt, painting a creamy ring around his tired base. Too much. And yet mindlessly thrusting even sloppier, catching your lips in a lazy, passionate kiss. “At least we didn’t fuckin’ kill each other, hm?”

You smile into it, slotting your hips languidly, “Didn’t do hgnh- the neighbors any favors, either.”

“It’s Naoya, who fucking cares? ‘Limp dick’ my ass.” And oh how Gojo loved that sweet sweet smile gracing your lips, the way your eyes light up all because of him. He can’t help but drawl out, “Y’know…since we were locked up in this room for all three days, and have most of the day tomorrow, how about you and I actually do some sightseeing here before we leave?” 

You nod eagerly, tightening your legs around his waist and shit, this might just be heaven. “We need a break after that contract, s’gonna be so fun.”

He’s connecting his sticky forehead with yours, “Of course it will be, I’ll be there.” Babbling deliriously, drunk off the way you’re leveling him with another one of your familiar glares, “And we can use Yaga’s care, too, he never checks-”

“Toru…” you warn when Gojo cuts himself off with a gasp. Quirking an irritated brow - as you usually did when you’re with him, “Don’t tell me you’ve been dipping into Yaga’s card, he’ll kill you if he finds out. That’s if I don’t kill you first.”

“...”

“...Toru…”

“Is this a bad time to tell you that I booked us this suite with it too?”

A/N. My red flag is making Naoya the shitty ex in every piece of writing I do (or is that a green flag hmmm?)

Plagiarism not authorized.