#been working on this guy for a while! I’m happy with how it turned out

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 WE WERE BORN SICK

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: that sinking feeling that's been looming over you both has finally come to fruition. truths are revealed, questions are answered, but one big one remains: is love enough for you and dazai's relationship to survive this?

AUTHOR'S NOTES: happy fridayyyyy, i can't believe we only have one chapter left of civzai, it's actually makin me emotional </3 this chapter was quite a doozy to write, and i hope it's equally a doozy to read HAHAH no no jkjk , i hope you enjoy. also do u guys want to add an arcane au to the dazaiverse .. ive been thinking heavily about it. comments & reblogs appreciated

GENERAL WARNINGS: fem!reader, port mafia executive!reader, civilian!dazai, dazai's struggles w suicide & sh, reader partakes in mafia business, dazai isn't dazai without a bit of obsessiveness and possessiveness (the possessiveness doesn't come til later but the obsessiveness starts from day 0).

CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: hardly edited. angsty chapter. explicit depiction of suicide (past recollection of dazai), implications of past self-harm (dazai), very toxic thought processes at certain parts (dazai), past (and a bit of current) suicide ideation (dazai), manic behavior (reader).

SEE: WASTELAND, BABY! SERIES MASTERLIST

“I’ve been eager to meet you for quite a while. In all of the years I’ve known her, my little hime has never let something as trivial as a boy come between her and our work… I knew you must be special, but I never could’ve imagined just how special. I’m so pleasantly surprised.”

Dazai’s head throbs as he comes to his surroundings. He’s laying in an uncomfortable bed—a hospital bed, he thinks, he can smell the unfortunately familiar scent of antiseptic, but the walls aren’t the typical white he’s used to. He winces as he sits up, unable to recall where he is or what happened to him. Everything is too fuzzy, he remembers being with Fitzgerald, the car ride to the tea house, and-

And he remembers you. 

He remembers you.

He lets out a shaky breath as he recalls the way you’d pulled him into your arms, cradling him close as soon as you got him back from Fitzgerald. God, he only got to be with you for what felt like a second. It wasn’t enough time. It wasn’t nearly enough time. You sent him off, he remembers—you sent him with two of your subordinates, the weretiger and that freaky little girl, and then… 

“Shhh… Don’t speak. I want to get this done and over with.”

The gun to his back, Atsushi and Kyouka’s cries of shock, the baton to his head.

“No can do, weretiger. On orders from the boss.”

His mind tracks back to the words that had been spoken as he was teetering on the edge of consciousness, mouth going dry and eyes widening as he becomes acutely aware of the other person in the room with him. His gaze flicks up to where a vaguely familiar man sits at a desk watching him—straight chin-length black hair, inquisitive purple eyes, a long black coat, Dazai isn’t sure where he recalls this man from but he knows that they’ve met before. 

“Who…” Dazai asks, voice wavering as pain shoots through his head with every little movement. “Who are you? Have we… met before?”

His wrist hurts. His mother’s nails dig into his skin so deep that it draws blood, and he doesn’t know what’s going on. He’d just been sleeping—is he still sleeping? He isn’t sure. He’s stumbling over his own feet trying to keep up with her, he keeps asking her what’s going on but she doesn’t answer him. 

They turn a hall and his mother stops so suddenly that he slams right into her, nearly tripping over onto the ground. He doesn’t even regain his footing before his mother is pulling him back the way he came, he looks over his shoulder trying to figure out what caused his mother to panic so badly and he looks at—a man? 

Who is that? 

Why is he coming from grandfather’s room?

Is that-

Blood?

“Shuji! Shuji, don’t look back! Keep moving!”

Shuji? Who’s Shu-

“I think you know the answer to that already.” Dazai is startled out of the memory—was that a memory?—by the man’s voice. He sounds amused, and from the way that his eyes are glittering, Dazai can tell he’s finding great entertainment out of this situation. It pisses Dazai off. “Don’t you?”

“Tane-chan, you know you won’t be able to hide him forever. You’re just making this harder on yourself.”

Dazai’s breath catches. He shifts backward on the bed to press his back against the wall. Everything is wrong—the air is too cold, his bandages are itching, his head hurts, and he doesn’t know what’s going on. Who is Shuji? Why is he thinking of his mother after all of these years? And what… what was he remembering? 

Memories of his youth have always been sparse and fleeting—he can vaguely recall the faces of his siblings, the anxiety he felt around his grandfather, the loneliness—but something like this… The panic on his mothers face, the pain in his wrist, the way she was dragging him around, the fear in her voice when she screamed at Dazai—was he Shuji? But then why—to not look back, to keep moving. He would remember something like that. That would be… crazy to forget, right?

What is going on?

“You’re Mori,” Dazai breathes out, clearing his throat. He hopes he doesn’t look as disconcerted as he feels, but he thinks he must. “You’re…”

The leader of the Port Mafia. 

The closest thing you have to a father.

So, how does Dazai remember him from years ago? It doesn’t make sense. He couldn’t have been older than thirteen, maybe fourteen in that memory. What did he forget? When did he meet him? What’s going on? Dazai wants to scream, his mind is still slow from just waking up—he doesn’t even know how long he was unconscious, it couldn’t have been that long.

Mori’s smile widens as if Dazai just walked right into whatever trap that had been laid out for him, violet eyes flashing with a type of cruel amusement that makes Dazai sick to his stomach. Dazai has to circle back to remember what he just said, he needs to snap out of the daze he’s in. He needs to think. He made a mistake—Dazai made a mistake. He shouldn’t have admitted that he knew Mori. That was a mistake.

How does he fix it? 

Can he fix it?

“You do know,” Mori says, like he didn’t actually expect Dazai to admit that he knew him. Like he’s pleasantly surprised. Again. Like Dazai just made things much easier for him. Shit. “Interesting.”

He’s going to use it against Dazai. Dazai knows it. He’s going to use it against him to hurt you. He remembers everything he’s learned about your relationship with Mori—how he pit you against that other girl, Yosano, to get results from you. And he already said it. He already said that Dazai is getting between you and your work, he’ll do the same thing here. He’ll pit you against him.

He’s going to tell you that Dazai knew who Mori was, and that Dazai is someone that he’s not—who is Shuji? Why doesn’t he remember his own name? Is that really his name? How does Mori know all of this? Who is Dazai?—and Dazai needs to be able to say something. He needs to be able to explain. How does he explain this when he doesn’t even know what’s going on? Dazai needs to remember; he needs to remember now, he needed to remember yesterday, because if he’s not the one to tell you this… If he can’t explain this…

This cannot be happening—it can’t. Right when he thought everything would be okay, when he would be with you. His throat starts to clog as anxiety clouds his head and weighs on his chest, a panic attack that he can’t afford right now. He needs to think, he needs to figure out what’s going on—Mori knows something about Dazai that he doesn’t know himself, and he’s going to use it against him to drive a wedge between the two of you. He’s going to tell you, and-

Dazai’s world feels woozy. Why can’t he remember? How does he know Mori? What was happening that night with his mother? He needs to snap out of this, needs to think, but he can’t even breathe. Fear—the mind killer.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Dazai rasps, his voice is hoarse, and he feels sick, and he hates admitting that he doesn’t know what’s happening, but he needs Mori to believe it so that he doesn’t tell you something that’s not true. “I don’t know how I know you. I don’t-”

“You might believe that,” Mori says amused, “but will she?”

Dazai stares at Mori, his stomach churns violently and his vision swims as the answer becomes abundantly clear to him.

He doesn’t know. 

———

The gun in your hand weighs heavily.

You hid it in the inside of your blazer to get up to the conference room. No weapons are allowed up past the thirty-fifth floor unless you’re one of the Boss’s hand-picked personal guards—even executives are forced to disarm themselves before going up, but security is much more lax for the upper echelon. Because you’re you—the hime, second-in-command, the Boss’s daughter—the guards outside of the elevator that goes directly to the top floor wave you past the metal detectors to go on up.

A mistake.

(Who is Tsushima Shuji? It can’t be Dazai. You know Dazai. Mori must be wrong.)

The smile on your face is bland and doesn’t meet your eyes as you walk down the hall to the conference room attached to Mori’s office. You greet the guards, and they don’t notice how off your demeanor is, too starstruck over the fact that they’re being acknowledged for once. They also don’t notice the way your hand is curled around the grip of your gun in your blazer.

A mistake. 

(Mori is never wrong. Do you really know Dazai?)

When you reach the end of the hallway, you toss them one last brilliant smile. This one is a bit more genuine because you’ve realized that you’ve gotten through the top notch security of the upper levels of the Port Mafia headquarters without a hitch. That you’re one step closer to finishing this. They’re so blinded by the beauty of your smile that they don’t realize your teeth have sharpened into knives and the floral perfume you wear masks a putrid bloodlust. 

A mistake. 

(It’s always been odd, hasn’t it? The way he approached you. The way he was so insistent on pushing himself into your life. You always questioned it. There was a sinking feeling that something wasn’t as it seemed. Why didn’t you question it more?)

You keep your back turned as you slip into the room. You can feel four presences behind you—Kouyou, Piano Man, Chuuya, Ace. No Mori. No Dazai. That’s fine—you have something to take care of before they show up anyway. The conference room is soundproof; Mori designed it that way because he didn’t want the guards outside to overhear any discussion of sensitive topics. Even if he handpicked them for their loyalty, he understands that money can make the most devout man’s faith waver. Still, it’s not them rushing in that you’re worried about—it’s the people in the room with you rushing out, so you very carefully twist the nub of the lock and then reach up to fix the deadbolt. It won’t stop them, but it will slow them. You can feel their eyes on you as you make sure the door is locked, but none of them call you out for it or try to stop you.

A mistake. 

(Mori always told you that the Tsushimas were like cockroaches. If they all weren’t killed, one would eventually return to reclaim their grandfather’s empire. There’d be a power struggle between the factions loyal to the new regime and the ones that still hid in the shadows believing that the Tsushima blood belonged at the head of the organization. Everything the two of you had built would crumble to ashes.)

You turn to make your way over to the conference table where the four of them are sitting. You haven’t decided how you want to go about this yet. You don’t know who all was aware of what Mori did, and because of that, you don’t know who needs to die. Treachery has always faced a death penalty—you don’t care if Mori ordered it, you don’t care that the Boss’s word is absolute, you have bled and breathed for the Port Mafia. You’ve sacrificed everything you’ve ever owned and wanted for the Port Mafia. You have made the Port Mafia into what it is today with your efforts abroad and at home—foreign governments, foreign criminal organizations, the Japanese government and other domestic mafias, all of them are just puppets that you pull the strings of to ensure the Port Mafia stays on top. Treachery against you will face the same penalty one would receive if they betrayed the Port Mafia, because you are the Port Mafia—Mori has made sure of that. 

Chuuya and Piano Man share a look with one another as you approach the table. Neither of them say anything—is it confusion? Is it guilt? Did they know? Were you the only one unaware of the schemes going on around you? Were you the only one loyal? The only one you could trust?

Did they know?

Did they know?

(No one could ever love you without your ability at work influencing them. You’ve known that since the very beginning, but you were so quick to forget that when you discovered Dazai’s ability. You should have had more questions, you should have been more suspicious. Mori had been right from the very beginning. You were emotionally compromised. You were weak.)

Ace opens his mouth to speak.

A mistake. 

“It was nice meeting your-”

Ace’s head hits the conference table with a hard thunk, his eyes wide and glassy, his mouth open around the words you didn’t let him finish speaking. Blood seeps from the bullet hole in his temple and pools around his head and the ground beneath his chair, staining the glass table and the white floors. 

Instead of lowering your arm, you shift it so that the gun is pressed against Piano Man’s temple next. Chuuya says your name—it’s awful, something caught between a gasp of shock and confusion, he’s never said your name like that before. Like he doesn’t know what you’re doing. Like he doesn’t understand you. Like you’re something unfamiliar. Unrecognizable. You ignore him anyway, and the pangs that come along with it, and instead, you keep your gaze trained on Piano Man’s face.

He’s not as panicked as Chuuya, but you can tell that he’s just as caught off guard from the way his lips are twisted. He watches you carefully, waiting for you to say whatever you’re going to say—if you were going to pull the trigger, you would’ve done so immediately, he knows that. He’s always been good at reading you, better than even Chuuya sometimes.

“Did you know?”

Your voice is steadier than you expect it to be. Cold almost. Distant. You don’t recognize it yourself, you suppose it’s no wonder that Chuuya’s staring at you with such a foreign expression. You watch him just as carefully as he does you. He has a tell when he lies: he squints. Not an obvious squint, just the barest hint of his eyes squeezing shut like he’s calculating exactly what he wants to say, in what tone and with what fluctuation he wants to say it.

A subtle tell, but a tell nonetheless. 

“No.”

He stares at you steadily as he says it. There’s no squint—he’s telling the truth. You don’t let out a breath of relief, but you certainly feel the weight off of your shoulders. You lower the gun, satisfied with his response, and then you walk over to where Chuuya is sitting.

You don’t raise the gun to his temple immediately. He looks up at you, you look down at him, a whole conversation is had in the silence between you, and eventually he lowers his lashes in resignation, telling you to do what needs to be done for you to feel more at ease.

He’s always put others before himself. 

You lift the gun at the same time he lifts his gaze to meet yours. He could activate the Tainted Sorrow and end this before it starts, but he doesn’t—you know in your gut that if you pulled the trigger right now, he would accept the fate you delivered. Probably would take it as a better one than he deserved—it being at your hands rather than Arahabaki. 

“Did you know?” you ask. The words taste bitter, rancid—they don’t belong there, Chuuya would never betray you, but you had to hear it from him. 

Chuuya doesn’t have many tells when he lies—he’s a good actor, much better than people give him credit for. If he wanted to lie to you, he might be able to get away with it. But he won’t lie to you, not when he’s looking you in the eye. 

“No,” he says, voice soft and raspy like he can’t believe he has to say it.

You let the gun drop to your side. It weighs heavier now—heavier than it did in the elevator, heavier than it did in the hallway leading to the room, heavier than it did when it was pressed against Piano Man’s head. You can hardly bear to keep holding it, but you’re not done yet.

Slowly, your gaze turns to Kouyou. Her expression is cold and unreadable, gaze pinned on you in the same way a lion stalks its prey through the tall grass… No, that’s not right. She stares at you with the same look in her eyes that a snake does when it’s curled in a corner, rattle shaking and hissing to try to scare off the predator that has it trapped.

“You knew,” you breathe out softly in disbelief. Your voice hardens and tightens as you repeat, “You knew!”

Before you can raise your gun—before you can pull the trigger four, five, six times, before you can riddle her body with holes because how dare she know, how dare she know and not tell you after what the previous boss did to her—the door that separates the conference room from Mori’s office opens, and your attention is drawn to the one person who caused all of this.

“Oh my,” Mori says airly, looking between you, Ace’s body, and Kouyou with an expression that is frustratingly amused. “I see you’ve been busy.”

You don’t even know what to say to that. You almost want to laugh. You think you do laugh, actually—someone does, and you think it’s you, because you feel yourself walking away, you lift your hands to your head to tug at your ears in frustration. Your vision is blurry—are you crying?

“You betrayed me,” you finally say, voice quieter than you intend, so you raise it as you repeat yourself. “You betrayed me. You. Of all people I never thought you would be the one to-”

You can’t even finish the sentence, your voice cracks over the words. It makes you feel sick, it makes you angry, it makes you want to crawl out of your skin, because how could he? To you? You don’t know why you’re so angry, why you’re so betrayed. Mori has always made it clear that his priority is the Port Mafia, but still, to do this to you. To do this to his-

To his what?

You’re not his daughter. You hate when people imply that you are, you hate being called hime, you hate being called ‘Miss Mori’, you hate when people give you respect because of your perceived relationship to him. 

He’s the only father you’ve ever known. Almost every decision you’ve made has been with the motive of making him proud of you. When he seeks out your opinion specifically during meetings, your chest becomes warm with pride.

You don’t love him. How could you? Look at what you’ve become because of him. 

Then why do you feel so betrayed? Why did you think he would be the last person to do something like this to you when you know the type of person he is? Why does your chest feel like it’s caving in? Like your heart’s been ripped right out of it? Why does this hurt as much—why does this hurt more than Dazai’s potential betrayal?

And he certainly doesn’t love you. He never would have done this if he did. 

He’s killed people for disrespecting you—he hardly ever gets his own hands dirty, but he does when it’s you and your dignity on the line. He spends hours meticulously picking out birthday presents that he knows you’ll like. He gets sad when he invites you for lunch and you don’t join him, reminiscing about the days where you clung to the back of his coat.

He touches your shoulder, and your finger twitches on the trigger of the gun. You want to lift it, press it to his temple and pull the trigger just like you did to Ace, but you can’t. Your arm feels like lead, and when his hand slides down to your bicep to force you to turn around and face him so that your back is to the rest of the executives, you dutifully follow along.

His expression is unreadable as he looks down at you, violet eyes swimming with an emotion you’ve never seen in them before. He lifts his hand to wipe away one of the tears that had spilled over your cheeks with his knuckle, and then taps your cheek twice, chiding you silently. 

Do not cry here, little hime. Not here.

“You have always been so dramatic,” Mori hums just loud enough for you to hear, but the words are fond, and the corners of his lip curl up as he looks down at you. “I would not betray you. Not ever, dear.” 

You look at Ace pointedly in response and then back to Mori, the man sighs dramatically and gives you a disappointed look. The nerve, you think bitterly, narrowing your eyes on him as you wait for his explanation.

“I told you,” Mori says. “I did this to protect you. I wanted to get ahold of the boy-”

“Because you have some mistaken belief that he’s a Tsushima,” you interrupt coolly. “How did you even manage to come up with that ridiculous theory?”

Mori’s eyes flicker with something akin to interest, but shifts quickly into pity—you can’t tell if it’s genuine or mocking, and you don’t know which would be worse. He must be mistaken, he has to be. You don’t think you can handle the implications of if he isn’t, of what it might mean for you. For Dazai. Your whole relationship with him. How much was manufactured for him to get information about the Port Mafia? So he could get a foothold in the organization? Get in contact with the remaining loyalists to his family?

“Sit,” he tells you, guiding you over to the seat at the right of the head of the table. “I’ll explain everything, but first… Shuji-kun, why don’t you come out and join us?” 

Your breath catches at Mori’s words, gaze twisting to the side over to the door that he’d come out of. You watch as the door creaks open, and the achingly familiar sight of his face finally comes into view. You’ve missed him—you’ve missed him, and you hate this. You should be back at your apartment with him, you should have him curled up in your arms, you should be listening to him complain about how long he was stuck with the Guild. 

This shouldn’t be happening. You shouldn’t be sitting at the executive roundtable with Ace’s dead body a few feet away, and Dazai entering the room, questions of his identity, of whether or not he’s been using you for information and opportunity to take back his grandfather’s legacy. 

You hoped that Dazai would enter the room angry, irritated by the kidnapping and the accusations, but you don’t think you’ve ever seen Dazai look like this before. He looks a mess, fidgeting, brown hair matted to his forehead, dark eyes wide and swirling with emotion. When he seeks you out, they’re pleading, imploring, like he already knows that whatever is about to be said is going to be bad for him. 

He looks… frazzled. Nervous. Confused. 

He looks guilty, and you know that Mori is telling the truth. 

How much of this was a lie? All of it?

Your throat feels uncomfortably tight, gaze sliding from Dazai back to Mori.

“Tell me.”

Who are you, Dazai Osamu?

———

Despite his body being wracked with a strange sense of guilt, Dazai pushes open the door to enter the room where he assumes you’ll be waiting. You’re not the only one there sitting at the table—there’s five… no, four others—but Dazai can’t help the way he immediately seeks you out. He recognizes his mistake instantly. That highly unwelcome, and highly misplaced, guilt amplifies the moment his gaze meets yours and he sees how crushed you are by all of this. His face twists into something that he knows condemns himself more. and from the way you instantly look away from him, directing your full attention to Mori, he knows he has. 

Now, you won’t meet his eyes at all.

Dazai sits stiffly across from you to the left of Mori. Nakahara Chuuya is on his opposite side, glaring holes into the side of Dazai’s head, but he can’t drag his gaze from you. He’s never seen you like this before—even back at the beach house when you’d been so close to breaking down under the weight of everything on your shoulders, you’d held yourself together as best you could. 

You’re unraveling now; he can tell you’re still trying to hold yourself together, but it’s as good as trying to pick up water with your fists, your emotions spill out through the cracks carved into the walls you used to hide yourself behind. Mori hasn’t even begun talking, yet your breath is unsteady and your eyes are swimming with emotion; your fingers are still wrapped tight around the grip of your gun, and Dazai is very acutely aware of Ace’s dead body slouched over the table not even a few feet away. 

And you won’t even meet his eyes.

Maybe it’s a good thing, he realizes, because Dazai isn’t sure what you might see if you do. You clearly didn’t like what you saw the first time. He just feels so guilty, and he doesn’t even know why he feels guilty because he’s not-he didn’t do any of what Mori implied. He didn’t use you, he didn’t know who you were before meeting you, it wasn’t all some scheme to try to take over the mafia. That’s ludicrous—he’s a literature student at YNU, not some gang lord. He just-

He loved you. Loves you. No ulterior motives. No strings attached. 

“I said tell me,” you snap when Mori doesn’t immediately begin talking. “You love talking, so why are you holding back now? Tell me, or I’m leaving.”

Dazai feels a bit sick to his stomach when you say ‘I’ with no implication of taking him with you. He tries to get you to look at him again, silently pleading with you to just spare one glance in his direction, but you’re irritated now. He can see it in the way your fingers flex around the gun, knuckles whitening and finger twitching on the trigger—it’s pointed at the woman sitting next to you, who is very acutely aware of the fact from how stiff she is. 

“Do you remember the night we took over the Port Mafia, dear?” Mori asks her, voice a low hum. 

“What kind of question is that?” you answer tightly. Your lip curls up in irritation, Dazai can see you become more and more antsy and angry—he’s never seen you so out of control before. “Of course, I do.” 

“And you, Shuji-kun?” Mori turns his attention to Dazai and he wants to spit in his face—his name is Dazai—but his voice fails him when he sees the way your face twists at the sound of the unfamiliar name. He stares at Mori instead, hating how amused the man becomes at his silence. “I’ll take that as a no, allow me to refresh you.”

“Eight years ago, a coup was staged against your grandfather’s regime,” Mori says, and Dazai feels like he’s being studied under a microscope. All eyes are on him now—even yours, but now, he can’t bring himself to look at you. He doesn’t know what he’ll find, and he’s scared it’s going to be something he doesn’t like. “Your grandfather was mad, killing civilians and mafiosos indiscriminately, something had to be done, and nobody was willing to do it, so we did.”

“We had to wipe out the whole family, and any loyalists. I was fourteen when I killed someone for the first time. She was a girl my age—the previous boss’s grandaughter…”

Dazai’s gaze drags over to you. You’re staring ahead now, gaze listless and expression eerily blank like you’re slowly starting to realize what this means. Dazai hasn’t come to terms with it yet, because if even a little of what Mori is saying is true then…

“We wiped out the whole bloodline and as many loyalists as we could,” Mori continues, “or we thought we did, at least. My dear hime was who I sent to kill the heirs, I trusted in her to make it quick and painless. We didn’t realize one of the grandchildren were missing until it was too late—he wasn’t in his bedroom, apparently liked to wander around at night because he couldn’t sleep. His mother was able to swoop in and get him out of the estate before our men took over the building… Tsushima Shuji, the youngest of the previous boss’s grandsons. Does this sound familiar yet, Shuji-kun?”

He has the best view of the night sky from an alcove on the fourth floor of the estate—his grandfather’s floor. It’s where he likes to go when he can’t sleep at night, and ever since his cousins and siblings started fighting over their grandfather’s legacy, that’s been just about every night: half because of fear now that things have started escalating to violence, half because he’s not even sure why he’s still here.

His knees are tucked tight to his chest, arms wrapped around them and head resting against the cool glass as he looks up at the stars. He hears a commotion happening somewhere downstairs, but there’s always a commotion happening at the estate, so he thinks nothing of it. He submerges himself in the darkness instead, letting his mind float away as he stares up at the sky—it’s the only time he’s able to relax, escape from the shadows of his own mind.

He’s not sure how long he sits there admiring the night, time passes immeasurably when he’s lost in the stars—he’s only snapped out of it when he hears feet slamming against the ground in his direction. He stiffens, eyes wide, wondering if another one of his cousins has finally turned to bloodshed as the way to inherit their grandfather’s legacy, but instead his mother turns the corner, her smooth face contorted in a type of panic he’s never seen on her before.

“Mothe…” he starts to say, confused, but he doesn’t even get a chance to finish the word, gasping as his mother grabs his wrist and yanks him off the cushioned seat in the alcove.

“Shuji, we have to go,” she gasps, “we need to get out of here. It’s not safe.”

He stumbles after his mother, struggling to keep up with her quick pace and longer legs. Her grip was painful, nails digging into the bandages around his wrists, right into the fresh wounds they covered. He grimaces in pain, breathing heavy as he follows his mother down the hall, assumingly toward the steps near his grandfather’s room. 

“What’s going on?” he asks. “What about Bunji? Akane? T-”

His mother chokes over what sounds like a sob and his eyes widen—he’s never heard his mother cry before. 

“There’s no time,” she chokes out, “we have to leave without them. We-”

They turn a hall, she skids to a stop and-

“It seems that it does… Allow me to continue then,” Mori hums, drawing Dazai out of the memory. He sounds unbearably amused, and Dazai would be angry if he wasn’t so shaken. He pulls his hands off of the table to rest them in his lap to hide the way his fingers are trembling. “Your mother was able to hide you from us for half a year, I warned her that she wouldn’t be able to for long and since she didn’t share your grandfather’s blood, promised to spare her life if she gave you up to us, but she refused. She tried to take you out of the Kanagawa Prefecture, but our men were catching up to her, and she took… drastic measures to ensure we couldn’t track you down. That I’m sure you remember.”

“Mother,” he whispered, staring up at the rope, her limp body, gaze trailing down to the kicked over chair. “Mother, I don’t… why did you…”

He takes a step closer. A step back. Another step closer. He reaches out, fingers brushing the white nightgown she’d worn the night before while getting him settled in bed, but he snatches them back instantly like he’d been burned, clutching his hand to his chest.

He’s not breathing, he realizes when his lungs start to burn. His eyes sting painfully, unable to draw his eyes away—unable to even blink—is it a nightmare? Is he hallucinating? She sways—sways like when she used to distract him when he was settling into a depressive episode by putting on music and forcing him to spin with her in the kitchen, sways like the wind chimes she keeps outside because the house doesn’t feel homely enough without him, sways-

“Shuji! Shuji, get away from there!” The voice that calls to him is familiar��Aunt Kiye? Why is she here? “God, I tried to get here earlier. Nee-san, forgive me.”

Aunt Kiye grabs his wrist, yanking him away from his mother, dragging him out of her bedroom and down the hall. His voice is hoarse as he screams, he doesn’t know what he’s screaming, if he’s even screaming anything intelligible. He doesn’t stop until he’s out of the house and she’s kneeling in front of him, shaking him out of his panic.

“Enough, Shuji! We have to go, we can’t stay here, they’ll be here soon,” Aunt Kiye shouts at him, expression twisted and eyes pooling with tears that she doesn’t let spill over. “We need to go, and we-we need to change your name, change everything. I promised I would hide you, I-”

“We can’t leave her there,” he argues, voice shrill. “I don’t understand, why did she do that? What did I do? It was my fault, It was my fault, wasn’t it? It-”

Aunt Kiye doesn’t answer his question. She looks bitter, angry, hateful. “We have no time. We have to leave,” she whispers, dragging him to the car despite his protests. She continues talking, more to herself than to him, but the words make his chest cave in. “I told her not to get involved with that family. Their blood is black, cursed. Everyone knows nothing good comes from associating with those people.”

His fault, he realizes, breath becoming thin and shallow. It’s his fault, his blood, his fault that his mother-

“Yes, quite the unfortunate scene we walked into,” Mori says dismissively. “She was smart for it though, she never would’ve survived a night with our sweet hime interrogating her. You should see what she did to that despicable journalist. Of course, she wasn’t as fine-tuned with her ability back then, but that would’ve been at your mother’s expense—her first few attempts at conditioning were quite… unfortunate for her test sub-”

“Enough,” you spit out, interrupting him. Dazai wants to believe that it’s because you can see how uncomfortable he’s getting, but he’s not even sure that you care. He’s not even sure you remember he’s in the room. “Get to the point. You think he’s the Tsushima kid we missed—that doesn’t prove shit. It doesn’t mean-”

You don’t finish what you’re going to say, but you do look at him, and Dazai’s breath catches when his gaze finally meets yours again. He can’t tell what you’re thinking—the expression on your face is entirely indecipherable, something caught between being accusatory and guilty. Dazai doesn’t know if he’s going to make it out of this room alive. Even if by some miracle, you decide to believe him, there’s a good chance that Mori will order his death anyway, and he’s not sure if you’ll pick him over the Port Mafia. 

That being said, Dazai doesn’t even know if he wants to make it out of here alive. His brain is fogged with memories that he locked so deep within him that they never should’ve resurfaced—every time Mori speaks, Dazai’s recalling something new, something awful, something that proves that he’s every bit the freak people have always claimed him to be. Every bit as bad. Every bit as wrong. Not like other people. A monster whose mother killed herself because of him, a monster who's been cursed since the day he was born. 

“... blood is black, cursed… nothing good comes from associating with those people.”

More than that, he doesn’t see how the two of you are going to be able to come back from this, and that scares him more than anything. You’re the only good thing left in his life, and he doesn’t think he’ll make it without you, but he doesn’t think that after all of this things are just going to work out. You killed his siblings. His cousins. And yeah, Dazai was never close to them—they thought he was too quiet, too strange, all of the things that the other students at school whispered, his family was the first to—but… they were still his family, and if Dazai had been in his room that night, he would’ve been just as dead at your hands as the rest of them.

You killed his family. You would have killed him. The Port Mafia is the reason his mother killed herself, the reason why he walked into her bedroom and saw her hanging from a fan. The Port Mafia is the reason his aunt hated him so much that she couldn’t even bear looking at him, the reason why he was left to die in Suribachi City. 

Would you ever be able to get over the guilt of that? Would Dazai be able to accept it? You had a heavy hand in ruining his life, is it enough that you saved him years later? He doesn’t know, he’s hardly even processed it, he just knows that he has to cling to what little he has left, dig his nails in and not let go even if it makes you choke on guilt, even if it makes him sick with shame. He won’t let go. 

“So impatient,” Mori sighs. “Your aunt hid you for almost another half a year, but she wasn’t able to move out of the Yokohama area. She did well though, I’ll give her that. We had our best trying to find you, but she was very careful. It was partially our own fault that we didn’t get our hands on you back then—some loyalists to your grandfather snuck under our radar, told her when we were closing in on the two of you. She got rid of you before we got to her… but we did get to her. Kouyou-kun was the one who handled her, if I recall it got quite… messy. I can’t imagine how it must feel knowing that your mother and aunt sacrificed themselves to protect you only for you to throw it all away in an arrogant attempt to reclaim your grandfather’s legacy.”

Dazai doesn’t even zero in on the last bit of what Mori says because he’s too busy trying to wrap his head around the rest of it. Aunt Kiye didn’t… die for him. Aunt Kiye hated him. He remembers that clear enough—he remembers how she could hardly stand to look at him, he remembers the way she was always so cold and rough with him, he remembers-

“You have to go, Osamu.” Aunt Kiye is shouting at him, and he’s sitting in the passenger seat of her car. He doesn’t move, he thinks maybe if he sits still enough, she won’t see him there and won’t make him leave. “Osamu, get out of the car and go, we don’t have time! They’ve found us.”

The name is still unfamiliar—he’s not used to it, and he doesn’t know if he likes it, but Aunt Kiye insists that Tsushima Shuji is dead and that name can never be uttered again. She gets mad when he doesn’t immediately answer to it, tells him not to let his mother’s death be in vain, and that’s usually enough to get him to stop being stubborn over it.

“Osamu, go!” She grabs his bicep hard to try to get his attention, but he flinches and squirms out of her grip, still not responding to her. He can’t remember the last time he’s spoken—he thinks maybe since they left the cabin that morning. “You-”

Aunt Kiye sounds angry now, but he can’t bring himself to look at her. It’s only when he hears her unbuckle and feels her start reaching over him that he starts to panic. He reaches up to grab her bicep, trying to stop her from grabbing the handle of the door to open it, but she’s stronger than him. He’s hardly been eating lately, and he’s never been particularly strong—he was always the smallest among his siblings. 

It takes no effort for her to bat his hands away, pushing open the door and unbuckling his seatbelt. He struggles against her as she tries to push him out of the car, and she’s still speaking—shouting at him, begging him, he thinks she might be crying too, but he can’t even tell. His mind is fogged with panic and fear—he doesn’t want to be alone in Suribachi City, he doesn’t want to be alone at all. He wants to stay with Aunt Kiye even if she hates him because he doesn’t want to be alone. 

Eventually, Aunt Kiye wins the fight—even with him fighting tooth and nail, she manages to push him out of the car. He hits the ground hard, gasping when he lands poorly on his elbow. He’s stunned for a moment by the shock and pain, and Aunt Kiye takes the chance to toss out a backpack from the back seat and close the door behind him, locking it quickly. 

“No!” His voice is raspy from lack of use over the past few months. He scrambles to his feet and tries to pry the door open but can’t. Aunt Kiye won’t even look at him, she stares ahead as she switches the car into gear and he slams his hands against the window. “Aunt Kiye! Aunt Kiye, don’t leave me here! Don’t leave me here, please, I’ll be better, I’ll do better, just don’t-”

He stumbles back as she pulls the car away, falling when he trips over the backpack onto the asphalt, scraping up his hands and forearms. He’s not sure how long he sits there staring after where the car disappeared waiting for her to come back for him.

She doesn’t.

She didn’t die for him, Dazai thinks again, nails digging crescents into his palm. She didn’t die for him, she couldn’t have. Dazai won’t believe it. Aunt Kiye hated him, she abandoned him in Suribachi—none of this can be true. It can’t. His mother killed herself to be free of him, not to protect him; and Aunt Kiye abandoned him because she hated him, not to save him.

That’s the truth. It has to be. They couldn’t have died for him—for him. It doesn’t make any sense. He doesn’t want to remember all of this—he was better off thinking that they hated him, that they wanted to be free of him.

He can feel you looking at him now, but Dazai is back to being unable to look at you. He’s staring down at the glass table looking at his reflection, his eyes are wide and dark and far too black—he looks warped, inhuman almost. His expression is blank, none of the turmoil within him is reflected on it, and he doesn’t even understand why. He thinks it’s probably just making him seem more guilty.

“We figured she left you somewhere in Suribachi City, but we weren’t able to track you down,” Mori says flippantly. Dazai wants him to stop talking, but he has a sick feeling things are only going to get worse from here. “Not until you ended up with Oda Sakunosuke, at least, we…”

Dazai’s ears ring at his old friend’s name. Mori is still talking, but his words become a distant buzz. Everything starts coming back to him at once—his time alone in Suribachi City, the weeks he spent rationing the little food he had, getting the shit kicked out of him by some low rung gang who stole his mother’s ring from him. He remembers giving up, questioning the point of his own existence with a detached logic that left him with only one answer—there was no point to his existence, so he was as good dead as he was alive. 

He remembers seeing on a sign that it was the eve of his fifteenth birthday, and he remembers dropping himself in the bay during a storm, hoping that the tide dragged him so far beneath the surface that he’d never see the light of day again.

He remembers waking up the next morning to an unfamiliar face at his bedside, brows knit in disapproval and lips turned down, and he distinctly remembers feeling put out by a stranger looking at him that way.

“What’s your name, kid?”

Dazai couldn’t remember anything but the name Aunt Kiye had drilled into him over and over again the past few months.

“Dazai Osamu.”

“Hm. Oda Sakunosuke. You got a family, Dazai?

Odasaku brought him in. 

Odasaku saved him. 

The doctors said he’d been dead for almost three minutes when Odasaku found him washed up on the beach—said his memory might return over time, but it might not—but Dazai didn’t even care, because Odasaku brought him in. He gave him a roof over his head, food to eat, and a reason to live. He sent him to school so he could feel like a normal kid his age. He played board games with him and didn’t even care when Dazai was a sore loser and quit mid-game when he realized he wouldn’t win. He humored Dazai when he faked being sick because he didn’t want to go to school. When Dazai was going through bad depressive episodes, Odasaku would sit with him silently and write his book so Dazai never felt alone. Odasaku introduced him to Ango and they were-

They were his friends.

Family, maybe.

They were all he had, and they were all he needed. 

And then-

“We were the ones who killed him.”

Dazai’s gaze drags up from the table to focus on Mori. The man’s lips are curved into a cruel smile, his eyes are sharp, and Dazai is moving before he can stop himself. He lunges across the table, but Mori doesn’t even flinch because Nakahara Chuuya grabs the back of his shirt and yanks him back down into his seat. 

“You-” Dazai spits, voice raspy and angry.

“Don’t look at me like that, we were trying to get to you,” Mori says casually as if the words don’t shatter Dazai’s entire world. “We would’ve loved to have Oda Sakunosuke amongst our ranks. His death was unfortunate. Collateral damage. He was an assassin for a long time—one of the best in the world. He was pretty much unkillable, his ability allowed him to see six seconds into the future. I never understood how our sniper managed to get him that day, but now I do. He saw you getting shot with his foresight and tried to pull you out of the way, but your ability is nullification, so when he touched you to save you, he damned himself. In those split seconds when he was pulling you to safety, he couldn’t see the future, and couldn’t see the bullets aimed for you that lodged into his chest instead.”

Dazai can’t do this anymore. He tries to push himself up to his feet but his legs are numb and uncooperative, and he can’t move his hands or arms. Mori’s lips part to continue speaking but Dazai can’t do this, he can’t hear anymore of this. He’d always known in his heart that Odasaku’s death was his fault even if he couldn’t remember much about his mother and Aunt Kiye and their desperate attempts to hide him from the Port Mafia. He’d known, but hearing it-hearing the confirmation, it’s too much for him.

Before Mori can say anything, Dazai is startled from his spiraling thoughts when you stand up so abruptly that your chair goes flying back. Your expression is haunted and you’re not looking at him again, but Dazai is glad for it, because he thinks he’s about to throw up.

“I… I need a minute. I just need a minute,” you say shakily before fleeing the room into Mori’s office so quickly that you almost trip over the chair you knocked over.

The room is silent in your wake, and after a few impossibly long moments, Mori stands to follow you into the other room. The three Port Mafia executives left in the room don’t say anything for a moment, and Dazai is just trying to breathe. He’s trying to breathe and process what Mori just said, but he’s failing miserably at it. 

It’s the woman, Kouyou, who speaks first.

“She’s going to kill me for knowing about this,” she says simply, sparing a glance down at the dead body on her opposite side. “I’ve never seen her like this before. Even when Chuuya-kun went missing for a few days, this…”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have conspired against her,” Piano Man sings, looking entirely unperturbed. “I mean honestly, after what the previous boss did to you, I would’ve thought you’d be more sympathetic. Silly me to think you aren’t a cold-hearted bitch.”

Dazai tries to pay attention to what they’re saying, he tries to ground himself with the conversation happening so he can forget the feeling of Odasaku’s blood all over his hands, staining his clothes, smeared on his face. He tries to replace Mori’s echoing words with what they’re saying but he can’t.

“We were trying to get to you.”

“It has nothing to do with sympathy,” Kouyou snaps, but she does look ashamed. “It’s a security threat, it’s bigger than love. This boy could spell the end of everything we’ve built.”

“She won’t kill you, Ane-san,” Chuuya finally speaks up, his knuckles are tight around the armrest of the chair he’s sitting in. “I’ll talk to her, I just-”

“When he touched you to save you, he damned himself.”

“Chuuya-kun, she almost killed you,” Kouyou says so dryly that the words almost don’t even register to Dazai, but when they do, they’re the only thing that effectively draws him from his spiraling thoughts. He looks at Chuuya sharply to see if what Kouyou said was true, and his eyes widen when he only grimaces and looks down. “You and Piano Man. She didn’t even hesitate before pulling the trigger on Ace. She’s unstable right now, there’s no talking to her.”

“But she didn’t,” Chuuya says tightly. “I’ll talk to her, but first…”

Chuuya looks at Dazai so suddenly that he almost wants to snap his head away and ignore him, but he can’t. The ginger studies Dazai so intensely that it makes him want to crawl out of his own skin.

“Did you know?” Chuuya asks, voice low. He’s angry, Dazai can tell from the way a dark red color starts to flicker around his hands, but he’s trying to keep it together. “Tell me. Did you know who she was and use her to get closer to the Mafia for revenge? I’ll spare her the pain of having to put a bullet through your fucking head and kill you myself right now. Did you know who she was and purposely-”

“No,” Dazai interrupts, voice hoarse. “No. I didn’t-I didn’t know.”

Chuuya stares at him for a few seconds, studying him like he doesn’t know if he actually believes him, but after what feels like an eternity, he finally shakes his head and looks away, rubbing his face with his hands.

“Fuck, this is such a mess,” Chuuya breathes out, voice strained. “Fuck. She-”

Chuuya doesn’t finish his sentence because the door to Mori’s office reopens and you step back into the room, Mori at your heels. Your eyes are red, but your expression is withdrawn now, void of the tumultuous emotions that had been raging across it just a few minutes before. You settle back in your seat. Your eyes flit over Dazai like he’s not even there before focusing on Mori.

Dazai suddenly has a bad feeling.

“I’m not quite sure how you escaped us after that,” Mori continues where he left off, and Dazai is so sick of the man’s voice that he almost wants to rip his own ears off. “Probably Sakaguchi-san from the SDUP, I recall him and Oda-san being close… but that brings us to the present, doesn’t it? Four years later, you stumble into our lovely hime… Come, dear, let me tell you my running theory, and you tell me how accurate I am, yeah?”

Mori is looking at you now, eyes glittering as he waits for your response. Dazai has his own serious issues with the man, but he thinks it’s sick the way he’s enjoying your clear discomfort and increasing distress. Your jaw tightens a bit, but you nod, signaling for Mori to speak. Dazai’s nails dig into his pants as he waits for Mori to continue. Neither of you look at him, and Dazai’s lips part to speak so he can preemptively deny whatever Mori is about to accuse him of, but he can’t push a single word out. 

“Your first meeting with him wasn’t by chance. A cafe, maybe… a bar?” Mori offers, watching your face carefully for a reason. You look away at the second option, and the man’s lips curve up. “A bar, then. One you frequent, I bet. The one in Hodogaya-ku, perhaps? Your first meeting, but not Shuji-kun’s first time seeing you. Ui Koutarou—his journalism professor at YNU—wrote his first article implicating the Mori Corporation’s connection with the Port Mafia in February of this year, around a month before rising fourth year students register for classes. Shuji-kun, naturally, has been following anything related to the Port Mafia closely, so when he sees a class being offered in the fall by the same man who has been openly targeting the Port Mafia, he sees an opportunity and signs up for the class.”

No, Dazai tries to say. His lips form the word, but the sound doesn’t come from his lips. No. No, no, no, no. You look haunted suddenly, and Dazai remembers the argument he had with you during the government event in Tokyo. How cold and withdrawn you’d become. How when he confronted you next, you accused him of working with Ui Koutarou and blackmailing you for money. Mori is reigniting all of the initial fears you once had.

“Ui-san has had his sights set on you for quite a while, dear. You don’t need me to tell you that, you’re very well aware of the man’s hatred of you… When Shuji-kun started classes in the fall, Ui-san roped him into his plans, and you became his project. That wretched man had many documents on you. I had the Black Lizards raid his apartment after we captured him—most were harmless, detailing places you frequented and people seen around you, but when Shuji-kun became involved, he started using that information to manufacture meetings between you. I imagine that after you met him that first time, he started appearing around you rather regularly. Bump-ins at that cafe you like in Minami-ku, on the streets—he even started renting an apartment on property that we own after he realized the opportunity he had with Ui… he’s only been living there since the summer, you know?”

His last apartment wasn’t close enough to the school, Dazai wants to argue desperately. He’d been lucky that a cheap apartment opened up in Hodogaya-ku before the semester started—he’s been trying to get one since his first year. It has nothing to do with-

Dazai suddenly feels nauseous again, everything is spinning around him—he still hears Aunt Kiye screaming at him, he still hears the creaking of the rope his mother hung himself on, he still hears Mori’s confirming that Odasaku’s death was his fault. And now this, and you’re not looking at him again, and he’s not saying anything, why isn’t he saying anything? Why isn’t he denying this?

“He attached himself to you quickly, didn’t he?” Mori asks rhetorically. “Too quickly, I’m sure you had doubts—not even your ability makes people reliant on you as swift as he became. How long did it take for him to start prying for information? Trying to make you slip up and implicate yourself with the Mafia? Confess yourself as an ability user?”

The night of the earthquake when you showed up at his apartment, he remembers dizzily. He started pressing you on your political opinion because he remembered Ui saying that all of the criminal syndicates in Japan are going to do whatever it takes to prevent the military bill from passing. But he wasn’t… doing it to prove anything? He just wanted to know more about you, he was curious, he was finally putting the mystery that you are together. It wasn’t malicious—he just wanted to know you. That’s all it ever was, he’s only ever wanted to know you.

“When did you tell him about your ability? More about our organization? Around when the Guild started making their move in Yokohama, I’m sure. He never told you about his ability until his hand was forced. In fact, I’m willing to bet he lied and said he didn’t know he had one, but tell me, do you really think an assassin of the caliber of Oda Sakunosuke would not realize his ward had an ability that negated his own? That he wouldn’t be trained in how to use it… Most importantly, if all of this wasn’t a scheme of revenge—if he really did love you—then why did he never get rid of the flash drive that contained the proof that his journalism house published? The proof that got you thrown in prison?”

You’re crying.

Dazai’s throat swells when he sees the tears silently tracking over your cheeks. At once, he realizes that he’s never seen you cry before; he itches to reach over to you, to grab your hand or wipe away the tears. He doesn’t—partially because he doesn’t think he could move if he tried, but mostly because he knows that he’s the reason you’re crying. 

He wants to assure you that none of this is true. He had nothing to do with the Guild—they kidnapped him for fuck’s sake. He didn’t know about his ability, he didn’t even know Odasaku was an assassin. And he was just… careless with the flash drive, and he shouldn’t have been, but there was always so much going on, and he was so new to having someone in his life that really loved him that he was quick to bask in it and forget everything else.

He doesn’t assure you of anything, instead he watches as Mori reaches out to do what Dazai wants to do. He brushes away your tears and turns your face to look at him, a disgustingly sympathetic look on his face.

“I know you were eager to believe that someone could love you without your ability at work influencing them, dear,” Mori murmurs, “but people like us will never find a love that pure. There will always be other factors at work sullying it—wealth, revenge, threats. You understand now what this was, don’t you?”

No, Dazai wants to scream at you. He does love you, this wasn’t some ridiculous revenge plot for family he hardly remembered until this meeting, that-

“I do.”

Dazai finally is able to make a noise when those two words leave your lips. It’s weak—something caught between a wheeze and a whimper that sounds too loud in the silent room. He feels eyes on him—Chuuya and Kouyou’s in particular. Not yours. You stare down at the table.

“Ogai-dono,” Kouyou clears her throat. “If I may… perhaps we could… send the boy away. Abroad. Ensure he never comes back to Japan so we don’t have to risk him coming back and disrupting things.”

“We could give him a seat at the table,” Chuuya interrupts, ignoring the wide-eyed look both Kouyou and Piano Man give him because of the radical idea. “We’re down an executive anyway. We tell people who he is, that he supports the new regime. It’s what you wanted to begin with, right, boss? You wanted one of the grandchildren to legitimize the passing of power. We could make it work.”

“It’s too risky.” Mori isn’t the one to speak, Piano Man is, but he doesn’t look happy to do it. “Maybe back then it could’ve worked, but the Port Mafia killed his friends and family, and hunted him down. Too much has happened, he’s an unpredictable variable that we can’t risk. We can’t trust that he’ll just accept it all, that he won’t work behind the scenes to take us down. Giving him any leverage in the organization is the last thing we should do, but what Kouyou-”

“Leave him alive and we risk everything we’ve built falling apart—a civil war igniting, Yokohama being caught in the crossfires and all of our foreign enemies crawling into the city to reap the benefits of our fall. It’s one life or hundreds—thousands, even,” Mori interrupts, voice cool. He turns his gaze onto you. “I trust you know what has to be done, dear.”

Your expression is resolved, a heavy emotion in your eyes that tells him your answer before you even speak. “Yeah, I know.”

You stand up, and Dazai knows that it’s over. When you look down at him, it’s with a type of apathy that makes his stomach twist—he’d rather hate than nothing. His lips part to speak but he pauses when you shake your head slightly, so subtly that he almost doesn’t even notice it.

“Get up,” you say flatly, and then glance at Chuuya. “Chuuya, will you…?” 

“Yeah,” Chuuya replies without you even needing to finish the question. His voice is hoarse, he looks more than a little disturbed. “Yeah. Of course.”

Chuuya rises to his feet and then grabs Dazai’s bicep to pull him up to his feet too. Dazai doesn’t even have the heart to give him a dirty look in response, following along as he leads him out of the conference room and into the hallway. 

For a split second, Dazai really believes that maybe you’re just trying to fool Mori, you made him think you were taking Dazai to have him killed so that you can get him out of here safely, but even once you’re out of the conference room without Mori’s eyes carefully watching you, you don’t look at him.

“Get one of the clean up crews up here,” you tell one of the guards waiting in the hall instead as you frown at your phone, typing out a quick text to someone. You pointedly ignore how alarmed they are by the offhand comment to click on the button to the elevator.

When you look back at the two of them, it’s not to look at Dazai—it’s to look at Chuuya. The two of you are having a conversation, Dazai can tell that much, and he thinks that maybe he should be putting in the effort to figure out what’s going on, what you have planned, but he’s just… tired. He’s not even sure if he cares what happens to him anymore, and he figures the worst case scenario is that he dies at your hands, and of all of the ways he could go, he thinks that would be the most preferable, because at least you would be the last thing he saw.

He doesn’t try to speak again until the three of you are in the elevator and the doors have closed. 

“I-”

“Stop.”

Dazai is startled by the sharpness in your voice. He looks at you, but you’re still not looking at him, your lips are curved down as you stare at your phone, typing furiously. He glances up into the left corner of the elevator, noticing the cameras—maybe that’s why, he thinks a bit unsurely, deciding to stay quiet until out of the building. 

When the elevator doors open, it’s Chuuya that urges him to keep walking by nudging his shoulder. You don’t touch him, don’t look at him. There’s nobody in the main entrance of the building, which Dazai thinks is a bit odd, but he bites back any comments he might have when he sees a black car waiting outside the building.

The doors to the building open at your approach, and Dazai inhales the crisp, fresh air greedily, not even having realized how stifled he’d felt in that room with Mori, you, and the other Port Mafia executives. He thinks maybe that you’ll sit in the backseat with him and he’ll finally be able to talk to you, but you don’t. You open the door to the passenger seat and sit there without even sparing him a glance.

Dazai’s throat starts to swell again, stopping in his tracks as he stares at where you disappeared behind the car door. Chuuya pushes him forward, not letting him linger for long—he opens the door to the backseat and pretty much manhandles Dazai into the car before taking a seat next to him.

He recognizes the person at the wheel—Albatross, your friend. He’s driven you and Dazai around before, every time Dazai gets in the car with him, he makes a sharp comment aimed to embarrass you in some manner. This time, he doesn’t even look at Dazai through the rearview mirror. He just puts the car in gear and starts driving.

A pit starts to form in Dazai’s stomach. Dazai tries to initiate conversation with you again now that you’re outside of the Port Mafia headquarters within closed quarters, nails scraping against his pants as he decides what he wants to say.

“I d-”

“Stop.”

When you cut him off now, Dazai’s stomach flips. He stares at the side of your face, trying to understand why you won’t even listen to him. You can’t actually believe what Mori was saying, you can’t. You were faking him out, tricking him into thinking you fell for it—you had to be, you have to be. You can’t possibly believe him. 

“You won’t… even hear me out?” Dazai asks you quietly.

“There’s nothing left to say.”

Oh, Dazai thinks to himself, withdrawing. He stares at you for a moment before turning away stiffly, expression tight and strained as he stares out the window, watching the buildings pass by as they get closer and closer to the ports. 

You believe it, he realizes dully. You believe that it was all just a scheme. You believe that everything was manufactured, that he used you for some fantastical revenge plan, that he never loved you. You believe it.

But it doesn’t make sense, he thinks desperately. He doesn’t understand how you’re not seeing through it, and if you are, why aren’t you at least giving him some hint? He should try to say something again—he knows that, but he finds himself unable to. He’s a smooth-talker, quick on his feet, but never when it comes to you—since the day he met you, he’s been fumbling over words awkwardly, but now it’s costing him everything. He finds ash in his mouth preventing him from salvaging anything he might’ve had with you.

Dig your nails in and cling, he reminds himself, but his nails have become rounded out and blunted from how long he was scratching at his pants and skin while remembering all those memories he locked away. He tries to dig his nails in and cling, but his voice fails him and his nails can’t even find purchase on your skin, you slip out of his hands as easily as an eel.

He’s going to lose you. He might’ve lost you already.

Dazai thinks that’s worse than the realization that he really might be about to die.

The car comes to a stop much quicker than Dazai had hoped, and he stiffens when you waste no time before getting out of the car. He makes no move to join you outside, and Chuuya sighs next to him.

“Get out,” Chuuya says flatly. When Dazai doesn’t budge again, Chuuya snaps, “Get out of the car-”

“-and go, we don’t have time! They’ve found us.”

Dazai draws his knees to his chest, breath becoming a bit labored as his aunt’s voice echoes in his ears. He doesn’t even realize that Chuuya has gotten out of the car until Dazai’s car door is pried open. For a split second, he confuses the executive with his aunt as he’s yanked out of the car—he’s fourteen again and being abandoned by the only person he has left, and he can just barely bite back the “don’t leave me here!” that almost spills from his lips as his knees hit the ground hard.

Dazai is instantly hit with a thick scent that makes him gag. It’s noxious, almost entirely unbearable, clogs his throat to the point he almost struggles to breathe—a blend of rot, acrid chemicals, and something he doesn’t recognize, but it’s sickeningly sweet. As he pushes himself to his feet, he notices you pass your gun over to Chuuya, but in that moment, Dazai is more concerned with figuring out where he is, and when he does, his stomach drops.

The dumping grounds by ports stretch endlessly under the heavy, overcast sky. Mounds of trash rose like grotesque hills patched with scraps of torn plastic and suspicious lumps that Dazai doesn’t have to get close to know what they are. The ground is uneven and treacherous—a mix of sticky mud and sharp shards of discarded glass and plastic, and pools of murky water shimmering with oil slicks. 

It’s disgusting, and Dazai has a feeling it might be his final resting place. 

He trails over to the side of the road and his gaze tracks down to the ground directly below him. It’s not a far drop, hardly a foot or two, and certainly less gross than some of the other parts of the area, but that’s a low bar to meet. He tears his eyes away from the scenery around him to look back at you, lips parted to speak but he doesn’t say anything.

You’re leaning against the front of the car, watching him with an expression that Dazai can’t describe. Sad, maybe, resigned. Chuuya is back in the car, from what Dazai can tell, he's still fiddling with your gun—he wonders if this is his way of letting the two of you say goodbye in private.

“I do love you,” Dazai says. His voice cracks over the words. “No ulterior motives. No schemes. I just loved you. Love you.”

You don’t say anything for a moment, eyes drawing from him somewhere over to the side like you’re looking for something, but after a moment, you look back at him, your face a little softer than it was before.

“I know,” you tell him quietly. “I know, Osamu.”

Dazai’s lips part to say something back—he doesn’t even know what he wants to say, because confusion fogs his mind. If you know, then why-

Why are you doing this?

He doesn’t get the chance to ask. The car door opens and Chuuya steps back out, he passes your gun back to you and Dazai sees you subtly slide something into his hand too, but he can’t tell what it is. You sigh as you look down at the gun before looking back up at him again, he holds his breath as you make your way closer to him.

His lashes flutter shut, expecting to feel the cool barrel of the gun against his forehead, but his breath hitches when he instead feels the familiar warmth of your hand cradling his cheek. Your fingertips are flaked with Ace’s dried blood, but Dazai still leans into your touch, eyes sliding back open to look at you.

Up close, your expression is twisted with regret and… is that fear? Dazai can’t tell, he doesn’t care, he’s more preoccupied with memorizing the image of you before he runs out of time to.

“Forgive me,” you whisper so faintly that Dazai almost doesn’t hear you.

“I do,” he replies just as softly.

Your face crumbles as you look away. You take a step away from him, and your hand drops down from his face. Dazai instantly mourns the loss. You let out a heavy, shaky breath, sparing one last look down at the gun in your hand, one to Chuuya who stands half a step behind you, and then you look at Dazai again.

“Forgive me,” you say again, this time as you lift the gun—your voice is raspy, breath uneven.

Your fingers tremble so violently that the whole gun is unsteady, but Dazai doesn’t even care to look at it, gaze focused on your face instead. 

“I do,” Dazai repeats.

You pull the trigger. 

[iichfilwypj]

loved | percy jackson

ღ percy jackson x daughter of ares! reader ღ warnings: hurt/comfort! (for the ones that are so so angry) ღ wc: 720 this is clearly about me guys

“Percy, you don’t understand!” 

Her shouts shattered the silence of the forest; the birds seemed to have fled the moment they arrived, and the forest nymphs hid within their trees, unwilling to get involved.

“You’re right!” His voice was edged with frustration and anger as he followed her, but instead of looking threatening, he looked almost pitiable. "I don’t!"

There was a raw, painful gleam in his eyes, one she chose to ignore -although it proved her point.

“Why can’t you talk to me? Tell me what is wrong, please.” He begged. “I love you.”

No. 

Not those words. 

They were precisely the ones she didn’t want to hear. 

The weight they pressed onto her chest was overwhelming, and she didn’t think she could bear it any longer. 

He was the sweetest and kindest boy in camp, effortlessly funny and charming with everyone –how could someone like him love someone like her?

“That’s the thing.” Her fists clenched tightly at her sides, crescent-shaped marks forming in her palms. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she stopped to turn toward him. “You can’t love me!” 

And he flinched. He fucking flinched at her.

But she didn’t care.

“I’m mean! I’m mean, and violent, and aggressive. I’m insecure, quiet, narcissistic. I have anger issues, stupids outbursts, I curse all the fucking the time! I’m not-” She took a deep breath, trying to quell the anger boiling inside her.

She was unlovable.

“Percy, I can’t make you happy. I don’t know how you expect this-” She gestured toward the space between them, which seemed to close with each tentative step he took. “-to work, I am not good for y-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” 

Now it was her turn to flinch as he stepped closer, his hands gripping her shoulders firmly. 

He was staring into her eyes as if he could see right through her, peeling back her defenses to uncover the truth she kept hidden –something she sensed he had been doing for far too long. 

“Don’t tell me what’s good for me or not.”

She could only stay silent.

What else could she do with that sight in front of her? A sight that wasn’t made for her, that felt so foreign for her.  

Those green eyes looked at her with a love she was sure she didn’t deserve, and those hands brushed against her skin as if they could see something good within her that she had buried.

“I know you, and I know how you feel. Like you don’t deserve the good things that happen to you, like you’re not good enough, like you’re a burden in everyone else’s life." One of his hands moved to cup her cheek. "Like you are a bad person.” 

She almost laughed; well, he was really laying bare her entire life with his words. 

“I don’t know who made you think all of that, but please, I’m begging you, don’t believe them.”

“That's the thing,” Percy leaned closer to her to show he was paying attention, but it was almost impossible to get any closer. “No one said anything; I just know it.”

As she closed her eyes, he observed her. Before him stood his favorite person in the world, unraveling before his eyes.

And he couldn’t stand to see it happen.

“You are the purest person in the whole world. From the first moment I saw you, I was wrapped around your finger. My mother is tired of hearing your name, my room is fed up with me sprawled out, holding your photo, and my mind is consumed by thoughts of you –there is no space for anything else. ” 

The words flowed from his lips as if they were the most natural thing in the world, and the effect they had on her was overwhelming.

She felt the boy’s hands on her face, gently wiping away the tears she didn't know were there –he knew how much she hated being seen while crying.

When she finally dared to open her eyes, something clicked inside her as she was met with the prettiest shade of green.

She had never felt this way in her life, so free, so safe.

And despite the fear swirling within her, she wanted to try –to try with him.

“You are not mean, you are not a bad person, you are not something that is wrong."

His hands were so, so soft on her cheeks that she could've died.

But she didn't; she felt more alive than ever.

"You live, you act and you feel so, so much. You don’t have to be perfect to be loved, you have to be you. That would be enough for me.” She smiled at him, momentarily at a loss for words.

In response, she leaned in closer, pressing a soft, salty kiss to his lips. 

And she felt like she deserved it, like it was meant to happen. And maybe it was.

She felt so, so loved.

hi!! this is how i feel daily lately and i am so scared of telling someone! but i hope you like it!

[xxcallmemaryxx]

hi!!! i love your works<3

could you maybe write vessel x reader first date?

A sappy first date with the big guy. He’s a bit nervous. But so are you.

Vessel x GN reader.

Under the cut ~ <3

It’s a nice place. It’s quiet, the lights are dim, the booths are made in such a way that it’s like you’re on a whole other planet when you sit in them. Which normally, would be phenomenal. Having such a level of privacy while enjoying your dinner, it’s perfect. But this time it feels like a curse. Like the world is working against you. Because sat across from you is Vessel. He’s in a freshly ironed button up, a dark blue that looks almost black under these lights. His hair is combed back out of his face and he looks at you like you hung the stars. It’s awful.

It’s your first date.

And he’s doing absolutely everything right.

The problem is, every time your eyes meet you’ve half a mind to tell him you love him.

You’ve known each other a while, and he’s always had that effect. But here, on your first date, when the tension between you two is burning up the room and the feelings you kept hidden for so long are pretty much sitting on the table in front of him? Yeah long story short you’re both clearly nervous as all hell and neither of you know how to approach it. Telling him you love him in a panic attempt at easing into the night probably isn’t the way to go. But this date is just so different and it feels so real, your panic stems from more than just wanting to break the ice, it’s coming from the little voice in your head that’s telling you if this date goes the way you want it to… he’s it for you.

You can only hope to the god he spends so much time worshiping that he feels somewhat the same way.

You like Vessel.

You want him to like you back.

“Look, uh… we don’t have to do this. I’d never want to push you.”

His voice, which you’re sure is proof of heaven alone, snaps you right out of your panic. Then, gives you even worse panic.

“Huh? Why?”

There’s obvious worry in your tone, you know it. He picks up on it, because of course he does.

“I just worry you’re not really present. I’d hate for this to be something you’re just trying to get through, sometimes two people just aren’t supposed to go there… you know?”

His eyes are cast down. He doesn’t want to watch you agree with him. He can’t do it. He can’t make himself watch you sigh in relief. He can’t make himself watch you realise this was indeed a mistake. He can’t make himself smile at you as you tell him you’re sorry but he’s right.

“Oh god… Vessel I’m so sorry.”

Hm. If you listen close enough… you might just be able to hear the sound of his heart shattering in his chest over the clinking of the cutlery throughout the restaurant.

“No, please it’s okay. It happens. You’re still my-“

“It’s just been a long time since I’ve been this excited about a date, got a bit lost in my own head there for a moment. I’m sorry. I’m here I promise.”

Oh fucking Christ thank Sleep one hundred times to the moon and back again. His heart thumps wildly against his ribcage, he’s almost positive you can hear it. And he doesn’t even attempt to hide the sigh of relief that escapes him and the happy smile that graces his lips.

“That is… yeah that’s a relief. I won’t lie to you.”

He huffs a nervous laugh as he fiddles with the tablecloth hanging over the side of the table between you.

“I mean, there wouldn’t have been any hard feelings of course… but I’m really happy you still want to be here.”

You’re silent for a moment while you decide whether or not what you’re about to do is a bad idea or not. But you want to show him you’re serious about this date, you want him to see you enjoying his presence. You need to snap yourself out of it and make some moves.

So you get up.

His head snaps up and he watches you slide out of the booth with a look of complete dread. He straightens up. His hands fall to his sides and his face turns beet red. His jaw opens and closes as he tries to force words out but no sounds escape him. That is until you round the table and slide in next to him.

You offer him a little smile as your side presses against his. Your knees bump together under the table and your hands brush as you situate yourself. He uses his other hand to press his face into it. His voice muffled slightly as he groans quietly into it.

“Fucking Christ… you’re going to send me into an early grave.”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you. You purposely bump his knees with your own this time, trying to lighten the mood a little.

“I’m sorry… did I scare you?”

“Yes. Yes you did. I thought I’d ruined it all.”

He laughs a little, and he looks down at where you’re pressed up against him. His cheeks are flushed but he looks happy. His eyes sparkle and when he grins down at you, all his teeth are on full display. It’s the kind of smile that would make your cheeks hurt a little bit. The kind that’s a bit awkward and feels too big for your face.

It suits him.

“I’m sorry, Vess. I really like you, I was worried about it not working and kind of got too deep into worrying about it.”

He blinks down at you, it’s a slow blink, his cheeks are still tinted red from your close proximity and you swear for one moment it looks like he’s got hearts in his eyes.

“Don’t panic, love. It’s definitely working.”

His voice is low, it changes the mood almost immediately and all of a sudden it’s too warm in this booth. Who’s idea was it to cozy up to him like this. It feels like you’re suffocating again, he’s so overwhelming when all he’s doing is speaking to you.

He was right before, the tablecloth that hangs over the side of the table really is that interesting. You can’t stop yourself from fiddling with it, you’re starting to feel awkward again. You hear him force a deep breath into his lungs above you before his very large very beautiful hand encompasses your much smaller one, and intertwines his fingers between yours. There’s a slight tremble, you can feel it when you squeeze his hand tight enough. You’re positive doing that made it worse but it’s so endearing that you can’t even feel guilty.

Everything about Vessel is so endearing.

“Thank you for saying yes to me.”

If you weren’t sitting so close you probably wouldn’t have heard him. He gazes down at you, eyes so full of hope. It makes your throat close up and need prickle through your chest.

“Of course, Vess. You thought I would have said no to you?”

“No. I didn’t think you would…”

Cheeky fucker.

“… but I’m just so happy you said yes. I’m excited to be here, like this, with you. I’m sure it’s obvious.”

You lean up and press a soft kiss to his cheek, this causes a chain reaction, starting with his furiously blushing cheeks (yet again), then he smiles so wide he has to look at the ceiling just to calm himself down, his breathing picks up and his hand squeezes yours where he’s holding it in his lap. He looks back down at you with a smile that says a lot. It’s a wobbly smile, his chin wrinkles up and his eyes squint a little. It screams hope. Like most of his body language does tonight. But this smile is the epitome of ‘I know you know exactly how I feel about you and I know you feel the same way.’

Nerves and excitement crackle in the air between you.

“I’m excited too. For tonight. And for our next date. And the ones after that. I’m sure that’s obvious.”

He nods at you, his wobbly smile grows. Somehow, you didn’t think it could get any bigger but it does. He’s gotta cast his eyes down, he looks at your intertwined hands and nods again, at them… to himself… to you? You’re not sure, but he’s sure of whatever he’s nodding about. And that feels good.

.

.

.

<3 <3 <3

Thank you for reading.

[tinseltastic]

(Last) Sunday supper 🐇

[soleilapproves]

The one where Toji gets a buzz cut.

Masterlist

-•-

You dropped the grocery bags on the ground when you were greeted by your boyfriend.

But not out of excitement or happiness.

“No! Your glorious hair!” You dramatically walked to him so you could take a closer look at the damage. Toji, being the evil man he was, laughed at your response. “What d’ya think? I hated my hair covering my eyes while I was on missions so I tried something new.”

“Something new? You look like a felon!” You groaned as your hands roamed around his scalp, hoping for a miracle that would grow his hair back.

“Alright, that’s too far. I thought chicks dug this look.”

“Not on you! Maybe some weirdo that doesn’t look like an assassin for hire.”

“But I am one.”

“That’s besides the point, Toji. You’ve hurt me. By cutting off your hair you’ve also cut off any ties you had with me.” You sulk.

Toji was starting to feel self conscious even when he knew the adjustment phase would go away. “Do I really look that bad, doll?”

“No, but-“

“There’s a but? Okay, that’s it, I’m not touching you from now on. Since I look so bad, you can come to me when you find me attractive.” Okay this was turned into a real argument and you started to get agitated too.

“Fine! Let’s see who’ll last longer.”

Toji simply scoffed and walked back into his man cave.

Who knows how long you guys were planning to do this for?

-•-

A long time. You both can go without touching each other for a long time. It had been a week and a half without any physical intimacy but the relationship was normal, you both spoke about anything and everything. Neither of you were showing signs of caving in (or were just that good at hiding it).

It was a quiet afternoon. Toji was out buying some last minute ingredients for dinner and you were starting to miss him. And as much you hated to admit, the buzz cut was growing on you. Just the other day you had to fan yourself when you saw Toji doing pushups where he looked like an underground fighter prepping for his next match.

To distract yourself you decided to spend your time calling your friend instead. You put her on speaker while you organized your closet.

“Girl, what do you mean it’s ugly? It’s all the rage right now.”

“I know. I hated it when he first got it and now all I can think about is pouncing on him. Ugh, I hate myself.”

“You live together. Just go touch him, you fool.”

“No, I’ll lose and I can’t lose to him. He’s always winning bets between the two of us.”

The conversation went on for a few more minutes until your friend had some urgent business to attend to.

You turned around to grab the rest of clothes and shrieked when you saw a tall figure standing in the door way.

It was Toji. “Did you hear everything?”

“I’ve been here since you admitted that my haircut was hot. Do what you will with that info.”

You sighed as you sat down on the bed. “I guess that means you win.” He could tell you were pouting even when you were turned away from him. He smiled at your childishness and gathered you in his arms and made you lay on top of him as he laid down on the bed. “There, you won.”

“No, it doesn’t work like that. I admitted that I wanted you first so you’re still the winner.”

“Then you’ll be happy to know I’ve been thinking about pouncing on you since the day I got my haircut. I wanted to do it out of spite cause I knew you’d cave in but then we made that stupid bet.”

“Ugh, I’m so stupid. You do not look bad at all, Toji. In fact, you look like a hot felon. The type of felon that has a girlfriend who visits him.” You mumbled as you played with the collar of his t-shirt.

“Uhuh, and does she do overnight visits?” He then started attacking your face with kisses as you start giggling.

It was you and your hot felon against the world.

[plutotheplum]

Socks and Kisses

leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: a spontaneous shopping trip has leon re-evaluating his friendship with you.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, p in v, spanking, oral sex, praise kink, fluff, friends/roommates to lovers, fantasizing

wc: 3.7k

also posted on ao3!

There’s a shriek leaving you when you trip over a bundle of shoes in the doorway. It nearly sends you hurtling towards the floor, but there’s an arm curling around your waist, tugging you up before you can fall. Leon.

You glare up at your roommate, shoving at his chest so it sends him stumbling.

“Seriously, Leon? How many times have I told you to put your shoes to the side of the doorway?” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest.

He winces at your shrill voice, his hand rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“I was busy,” he says, his eyes pleading with you, “you know with… with work.”

You’re shooting him an unimpressed look, pushing past him to put the groceries on the kitchen counter. It was your day to collect them anyways. Living with Leon had happened entirely by accident. One shittily written apartment listing later and the poor guy was standing outside your door, begging you to let him move in. It hadn’t been so bad. Leon had been nice, and you two had gotten along well, becoming friends even. The only thing you couldn’t stand was how messy the man was.

Empty boxes from delivered packages, stray parchment sheets from when he’d bake himself something and socks strewn haphazardly across the floor, much like his shoes. Leon had practically turned your apartment into a deathtrap. 

You don’t get to reminisce for much longer, not when he’s reaching for the pack of popsicles you’d bought. Leon lets out a low whine, like a kicked puppy, when you swat his hand away and shoot him an irritated glance. “I’m putting my foot down,” you tell him firmly, “no more unorganized socks, shoes or- or anything for that matter!”

Leon only tilts his head, blinking over at you. You glance towards the clock before your eyes are flitting back to meet his.

“Ikea,” you explain, “we’re going to Ikea to get you some organizers or whatever.” 

“ Now? ” Leon asks, raising his brows “but I was going to go to the gym with Chris and-” he’s shutting up when he sees your hardened glare.

Leon lets out an exasperated huff, and you’re smiling over at him, happy you’ve won this argument. Just to reward him, you’re digging out a popsicle from the pack and handing it to him. “So stubborn,” he mumbles under his breath, freeing the popsicle from its wrapper. 

“I heard that,” you reply, sticking your tongue out at him.

You both finish up your popsicles, and you’re tossing him his car keys while you pull your shoes on again. 

“Why do I have to drive?” he complains, leaning against the doorway.

“Because it’s your mess,” you retort, rolling your eyes, “and you’re paying as well.”

Leon lets out a scoff, “oh, fuck you.”

You smile back at him, patting him on the shoulder for some comfort. You manage to annoy him a little more during the drive to Ikea, and Leon’s contemplating whether he should just stuff your mouth with the rolled up catalog you’re currently holding

It’s when you both get to the kitchen area that Leon realizes something’s wrong. His eyes are watching the way you bend over the model kitchen counter, gaze trained on the way your skirt rides up slightly, exposing the backs of your thighs. He swallows harshly, wondering what it might be like to come up behind you, grab your hips and grind his cock against your ass. 

Your voice breaks him out of his dazed thoughts, your hand waving him over as you point to the price tag.

“Don’t you think this is a catch?” You ask him, head tilting back to meet his eyes.

“A catch?” He echoes, raising his brows, “it’s $2000 . Do you even have $2000?” 

You roll your eyes, elbowing him in the stomach. “Don’t be such a jerk, Leon. I think it’d look good in our apartment.”

There it is. Our apartment. The words are so comfortably domestic that it has Leon’s knuckles squeezing tight around the basket he’s holding. He’d be lying if he said he hasn’t imagined you two dating. Especially after that time he’d come home drunk one night. You’d taken care of him so sweetly, despite all of your grumbles and chastisements, that Leon felt like he was falling in love.

That had only happened once though, and Leon wasn’t prepared to make a big deal about his feelings so he buried them deep down and carried on with his life.

He doesn’t have time to dwell on his little crush any longer, brows furrowing when he feels the basket in his hand grow heavier. You’ve been milling about, dumping various little trays and organizational tidbits into the basket.

“At this point, I think you’re trying to max out my card,” he drawls, trailing after you.

“I’m helping you, Leon” you shoot back, bringing a candle up to your nose to smell its scent.

It’s not until you both get to the bedding area that Leon realizes he might actually be losing it. 

He’s sitting down on the edge of one of the beds, the basket settled on the floor with how heavy it’s become. 

You’re fluttering about, checking out the duvet covers and pillow cases. His eyes watch over you, letting you take a seat beside him on the bed when you find a duvet cover you like.

“Pretty, right?” You ask him, showing him the design.

“I guess,” he murmurs absentmindedly. 

He thinks you look prettier though. Besides, it’s not like he can tell you that he’s imagining taking you on this very bed. Your face pressed into the pillows, his cock stuffed into your pussy. You’d probably make cute noises too, clench around his cock while he thrusted into you. He’d let everyone watch, he thinks, make sure everyone knew that you were his. 

You’re snapping your fingers in his face, trying to get him to pay attention to you.

“Are you okay?” You ask, staring into his eyes “you keep getting distracted.”

“What?” Leon flushes, clearing his throat “yeah- yeah I’m fine… just had enough of you is all.”

You swat his shoulder and he rolls his eyes. Both of you manage to get to the checkout without any further bickering. Leon’s card doesn’t max out thankfully, but you wince when you see the total, ignoring Leon’s glower as he tears the receipt from the machine.

To make up for the spontaneous shopping spree, you buy him a soft serve and hand it to him with a smile. 

Leon takes it with a grumble, his eyes dropping to the way you lick at your soft serve. The icy treat smudges across your lips, and he’s reaching out before he can stop himself, his thumb swiping at the corner of your mouth to clean the mess. 

“Think you might be the messy one,” he mutters gruffly, drawing his hand back. 

“Your socks alone have nearly crippled me” you reply, nibbling at the cone to try and quell the race of your heart at his unexpected action. 

Leon lets out a loud sigh, shaking his head. The drive home is quiet, the soft sounds of the radio filling up the car’s space.

You help Leon with the stuff you bought, leaving the goods in his room before letting out a satisfied nod.

“There. Now you don’t have an excuse for being messy. Better start cleaning up, Leon” you chirp, giving him a snarky smile before tugging his door shut.

You sigh happily, mind feeling at ease. You’re sure that your apartment won’t be so messy anymore. The sounds of Leon rummaging inside his room almost make you feel bad, but this had been going on for months and you were glad you had done something about it. 

Deciding to grab some food, you reach for the can of peaches on the kitchen counter. By some misfortune, your hand accidentally knocks the can, sending it rolling towards the edge. Letting out an irritated huff, you’re reaching across the counter to grab the can before it falls off. 

While this happens, you’re blissfully unaware of the fact that your skirt is riding up. Leon feels his heart nearly jump out of his chest at the sight when he had wandered out of his room to grab a garbage bag. 

He can see the swell of your ass, your cheeks peeking out from your panties as you’re bent over, grabbing the can of peaches. 

“Have you made it some sort of mission to bend over every kitchen counter you see?” he asks dryly, his arms crossing over his chest.

You squeak in surprise, body jolting. The can of peaches slips from your hand pitifully, landing on the floor with a loud thunk .

“Why are you sneaking up on me?” You whine, turning to give him a glare.

Leon doesn’t reply, coming to a stop in front of you. His blue eyes are dark, dirty blonde hair hanging over his forehead.

“Um… Leon?” You wave your hand in front of his face. 

“I’m starting to think you’re doing it on purpose,” he murmurs, his hand catching yours.

“Hm?” he squeezes your hand, his head lowering so he can stare right into his eyes, “bending over every kitchen counter so I can see your pretty ass?” 

You manage to gather your wits, letting out a loud scoff and push at his chest.

“You’re such a perv, Leon!” you accuse, narrowing your eyes and placing your hands on your hips. 

“I’m not a perv if you keep bending over like that!” he shoots back, his hands grabbing at your forearms to tug you towards him. 

You swallow harshly when his calloused hands drift past your wrists, finding your hands and lacing his fingers with yours. The warmth of his body seeps into yours and your head is tilting, eyes finding his.

“We- we are not fucking,” you whisper, shaking your head.

“Who said anything about fucking?” Leon asks, his head lowering again. 

His body presses against yours, causing your breath to hitch. You’re biting your lip at the way it feels, the hard planes of his body molding against yours.

“One kiss,” he whispers, peering into your eyes, “please? Just one kiss and it’ll be over.”

You’d be doing yourself a disservice if you denied his request. Leon was stupidly handsome even if he was a little annoying at times, and you had maybe masturbated to the thought of your roommate before.

“Did you happen to forget that we’re roommates?” you raise your brows, trying to voice your concerns.

“Roommates kiss all the time,” he says, his nose nudging against yours gently, “now c’mon, gimme a kiss.”

You don't know what sort of roommates he’s been hanging around, but you’re almost certain that roommates don’t kiss or do whatever the hell you two are doing right now. 

Leon doesn’t know what he’s doing either. That one shopping trip had seriously messed up his brain, but he was here now so there was no going back. Your lips look so pretty, your eyes all starry. He wants to kiss you senseless and bend you over that stupid kitchen counter while he fucks into you until you’re crying on his cock.

As if to encourage you a little more, he nudges his nose against yours again. You send him a glare, eyes slipping shut as you rock up on the tips of your toes and brush your lips against his. The kiss is fleeting, a mere touch of your lips against his, and it’s safe to say Leon is not impressed.

“There,” you say, trying to hide the smirk that spreads across your face, “you got a kiss. Now leave me alone.”

Leon lets out a low groan, his head falling against your shoulder, “you’re a fuckin’ tease, you know that?”

You hum, pushing at his chest, taking the opportunity to free yourself from the confines of his grasp.

“Not so fast,” he murmurs, his hand snagging onto your shirt, “c’mere baby.”

His low voice has the butterflies in your stomach fluttering, your eyes widening when his hands cup your cheeks and he presses his lips against yours.

It doesn’t take you long to respond, arms wrapping around his neck as he kisses you fiercely. He groans into your mouth, his arms winding around your waist to pull you closer. 

You’re both flush against each other and you let out an irritated noise when he shoves you up against the kitchen counter, feeling the solid surface dig into your back.

“Drove me crazy at that Ikea,” he whispers against your lips, his hands sneaking under your skirt to give your ass an appreciative grope, “thought about fucking you on one of those beds.”

The idea of it is so obscene and indecent that you find yourself moaning out loud.

“Yeah? You like that, baby? Me fucking you in front of everyone, letting them know that you’re mine?” 

You’re nodding desperately at his filthy questions, trying to tug his shirt off so you can see his chest and abdomen. He obliges you, quickly shrugging off his shirt. Your teeth sink into your lower lip at the sight, eyes half-lidded. 

You can’t help the way your body leans forward, lips pressing soft kisses across his chest and his pecs. Leon sucks in a sharp breath, his hands moving to cradle the back of your head.

“Just kisses, huh?” he murmurs.

You nod, peering up at him “no fucking, remember?”

He hums, tilting your head so he can kiss you again. Leon kisses you over and over until you can’t breathe. You’re feeling so dazed that you don’t even notice he’s spinning you around, bending you over the kitchen counter. There’s a soft whine escaping you when he flips your skirt up, his hands squeezing at your ass before his fingers slip under your panties, tugging the fabric back and letting it snap back against you.

Your fingers are scrabbling at the counter top when you feel him drop to his knees, his lips pressing against the skin of your ass. He kisses your body so reverently, you think you might actually pass out.

“Wanna kiss your pussy too,” he mumbles, tugging your panties down. You shudder when you feel his breath hit your sensitive skin, hips swaying back to meet the kisses he places on your clit.

His tongue lolls out before long, lapping at your cunt, collecting the slick that drips from you. 

“That- that is not kissing,” you whimper out, head falling against the coolness of the counter.

“Sure it is,” he whispers, burying his face deeper into your pussy, “just dirty kisses, sweetheart.”

The way he eats you out is messy. Leon’s trying to shove his face deeper between your thighs, his lips suctioning around your pussy. You mewl when he draws back and spits on your cunt, his mouth latching on soon after. You’re not sure how much longer you can hold on, knees beginning to shake. Leon delivers a particularly toe-curling suck to your clit and you’re shuddering, letting out whines and whimpers when he lets out a low laugh, his tongue swiping over your cunt repeatedly.

“Leon- fuck! Leon, ‘m gonna-” you can barely speak properly. 

“Then come , baby,” he whispers, his tongue pressing into your fluttering hole.

You squeal at the unfamiliar sensation, knuckles turning white as you come on his tongue. He licks up your slick eagerly, his wet lips pressing soft kisses against the swell of your ass as you pant.

He stands up, tucking his face into the crook of your neck. You press your back against his chest, turning your head to kiss along his jaw. His eyes flutter shut, his hands smoothing along your back to undo the clasp of your bra. 

Your arms lift and Leon helps you take off your shirt and bra, letting out a soft sigh as your head falls back against his shoulder. Leon’s hands are restless, reaching for your breasts. 

He hums at the sight of your hard nipples, pinching and rolling them between his fingers before letting go to squeeze your tits. 

“You’re real pretty, sweetheart” he whispers, kissing your cheek.

You mewl, cheeks flushing. You hadn’t expected him to talk to you so sweetly. Leon feels your body lurch forward, tits pressing against his palms. He laughs, giving another firm grope to your tits and finds your lips to give you another filthy kiss. While he kisses you, Leon grinds his hips against your ass, and you gasp into his mouth, feeling the outline of his cock through his shorts.

“Think my cock wants to give your cute pussy some kisses too,” he says, his mouth pressed against your ear, “you up for it, baby?”

You could be a bobblehead with how fast your head is moving up and down. Leon grins against your ear, placing another kiss to your cheek before he’s bending you over the counter. The coolness of the counter startles you slightly, but Leon’s hand rubs up and down your back, warming your skin. 

Tits squished against the hard surface, your feet on the tips of your toes, pussy glistening with his spit and your arousal, Leon can hardly believe his fantasy has come to fruition. He wants to take a picture, keep it safe and jerk off to the sight of you when he’s alone. There’s no pictures taken though, instead Leon’s hand delivers a heavy slap to one of your ass cheeks.

You moan, back arching slightly as you try and chase the feeling. It hurts and you can feel the sting of his palm prickling across your skin, but you want him to spank you again so badly.

“L- Leon, want more,” you mumble, looking back at him.

Leon takes your request in stride, his hand coming down on your ass repeatedly. Your body slumps against the counter, soft noises escaping you as he rains slap after slap onto your reddening skin. 

“Shit, sweetheart” he whispers, his hands smoothing over the damage he’s done to your ass “so fuckin’ pretty.”

There’s a babbled noise escaping you. Mind feeling like mush, all you can think about is Leon. He smooths his hands over your sensitive skin a few more times, trying to soothe the pain before you feel him squeeze gently as he presses the head of his cock against your aching hole.

Leon pushes into your pussy with a groan, his hands squeezing at your hips. It almost feels like he’s trying to ground himself.

“Fuck-” he hisses, drawing his hips back to thrust back into you again, “ fuck - you’re so tight, baby.”

You whimper at the feeling of his cock stretching you out. Leon’s thrusts are beginning to pick up in speed and you’re whining, the force of his thrusts making your body rub against the kitchen counter.

“Leon, Leon, Leon,” you chant his name and his body is draping over yours, lips pressing kisses to your shoulder and back, “feels so good,” you slur. 

His hips are rutting against your ass, cock stuffing you full. You’re moaning so loudly that Leon has to slip his hand over your mouth in an effort to quieten your noises. His balls are slapping against your clit and the combined stimulation is making your head spin.

Soon, his hand is leaving your mouth to grip your hips again. 

“Take my fucking cock,” he grunts, each word punctuated with a harsh slap to your ass. 

“It’s too much!” you wail, nails clawing at the counter to try and crawl away.

He growls, grip tightening as he keeps you in place, “don’t you dare run. Take my cock like a good girl, baby.”

“You’re insane,” you cry, but there’s a cockdrunk smile spreading across your face as he fucks into you. 

“Yeah,” he whispers, his head lowering so he can whisper into your ear, “and it’s all for you, because- because I like you.” 

There’s a loud whine ripping out of you at that, wet heat clenching around him. No one’s confessed to you before, like ever . You suck in a sharp breath, trying to calm your heart and stop the excited flipping of your stomach that comes with his confession.

Leon moans when he feels the clench of your walls around his cock and he’s fucking into you with renewed fervor. 

“I like you,” he whispers again “like you so much, sweetheart. Always taking care of me, looking out for me, makes me feel special.” 

“Only do that ‘cause you’re an idiot, Leon” you mumble, swallowing back another moan that threatens to spill out. 

“But you do it anyway,” he murmurs, driving his cock into you.

You gasp, eyes squeezing shut as his fat tip grazes the spot deep inside of you. He grunts when he feels you getting tighter, feels you clenching hard around his cock.

“You gonna come for me?” he asks, sucking little love bites onto your neck, “hm? Can feel you clenching around me, baby.”

“Wanna- wanna come at the same time,” you babble “right, Leon? Since- since you like me, we gotta come at the same time.”

He’s letting out a hoarse laugh, kissing your shoulder again, “yeah baby, I’m right there with you.”

All of a sudden, he’s burying himself to the hilt inside of you and your mouth drops open, a sharp noise leaving you as you both come. Your body is limp against the counter, body covered in a thin sheen of sweat as you pant. Leon kisses your neck, letting out a whine as his cum spurts into you. It’s warm and thick, filling you up so perfectly that it has a serene smile settling on your face.

He helps you onto your feet, his hands rubbing up and down your sides to soothe your shaky legs. You feel him press a soft kiss to the side of your head and you’re rocking up on the tips of your toes, returning a kiss to his cheek.

“I like you too, Leon” you whisper, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him down for another kiss. 

You can feel him smile against your lips and he’s kissing you back sweetly. Leon keeps you there for a while as you both kiss, his hands petting across your tired body.

He takes you to his room later, his hand encasing yours. The moment is almost perfect, if not for the sock on the floor that sends you careening into his desk. “Leon!” you grit out.

He only laughs, his arms wrapping around your waist as he picks you up and tosses you onto his bed.

“Sorry, sweetheart.”

[spideyjimin]

Before you | jjk

⤷ part of the dads universe

⏤ pairing: tattoo artist!jungkook x female reader 

⏤ genre: friends to lovers, angst, fluff, and smut 

⏤ rating: 18+

⏤ warnings: dom!jungkook, big cock!jungkook, long-haired!jungkook, pregnancy, mention of abortion, sexual tension, alcohol consumption, a lot of making out, finger sucking, thigh riding, masturbation, aftercare, mention of oral sex, swearing, some teasing, pet names, pregnancy kink, praising, a bit of jealousy, hickeys, handjob, semi-public sex, penetrative sex, protected sex, rough sex, creampie, overstimulation, and multiple orgasms 

⏤ words: 16,354

⏤ summary: jungkook has taken a huge place in your life after he tattooed you, and you can’t even picture how life was before him. he has always been there for you since day one. but how will things change after you find out you’re pregnant?   

⏤ author’s note: so guys, yesterday i tried to post this but it was a complete mess 😫 hopefully today it works without any issues! in any case, i’m happy to post this fic once more, especially since a lot of you asked for it 💜 it was a bit odd to read something i wrote years ago but it was at the same time intriguing because i’ve changed since i wrote it. hope you’ll like it 💜

MASTERLIST

OCTOBER 5, 2018

In a few minutes, Jungkook is coming.

You’re in your bathroom with a pregnancy test in your hands. Yong-ji, your best friend has convinced you in some way to do it, she thinks that you don’t have the flu. For the past week, you have had all the symptoms of the flu and you stayed home to rest a bit. But she doesn’t think that’s what you have. 

Before you can even see the result, there’s a knock on your door. Jungkook. 

He has no idea that you’re taking that pregnancy test, Yong-ji herself is not even aware. After she insisted several times, you told her that you wouldn’t do it. Unlike her, you’re convinced that you’re not pregnant. 

You leave the bathroom, put the test in the corner of the sink, and run to the door to open it for your friend. Jungkook has been around for a bit more than a year, and he has been one of your closest friends lately. Always there when you need him the most. And you’re just grateful to have met him. 

“You look so pale,” he comments when he sees you. 

“Hello to you too, JK,” you say, smiling back at him. “Come on in.” 

His eyes look at you with concern before entering your small apartment. It’s not huge, unfortunately, you’re not rich yet but it’s so comfy. You liked this apartment the second you first saw it because it was what you needed. 

“I brought some things to eat,” he says while walking to the kitchen with a little bag in his hands. “I guess you didn’t eat anything today.” 

That man understands you as nobody does. Although your friendship is very recent, he probably knows you better than Yong-ji who has been your friend for six years. You wonder how that's even possible. 

You’re just behind him, following him into the kitchen, and he puts his handbag on the small table. Today, Jungkook is wearing a sweater with black skinny jeans, and you know for sure that under his sweater, he’s wearing an oversized t-shirt that he wore all day at work.   

“How was your day?” you ask, trying to change the topic of your conversation. 

Your friend turns back to catch a glance at you before he raises an eyebrow. He’s perfectly aware that you didn’t eat anything during the day and that you’re changing the topic of conversation because you don’t want him to get worrier. Since you’re sick, he’s not going to say anything.  

“The same as always,” he says while rolling his eyes. “Clients came, I made a bunch of tattoos and I barely had the time to work on some projects.”

This last year, he has gained tons of new clients and he’s busy tattooing them most of the day. Before, he used to find some time to work on projects, but now, he doesn’t have that time. 

“You should find a partner to help you out with the clients,” you propose. 

Jungkook has already considered it but he doesn’t want to hire someone just to have more free time. He wants someone that can truly help him with the shop and the rest, and he’s convinced that it’s not going to be easy. 

“I’m too picky and you know it,” he grabs a fry from the bag and eats it. 

“Then, don’t be,” you answer, crossing your arms over your chest. 

He rolls his eyes as he takes off the food from the bag and places it on your table. “I don’t want some shitty person to tattoo my clients. So, I'm going to be picky and you're going to support me.” 

You open a drawer, taking two sets of chopsticks with two spoons before putting them on the table. You both sit in front of the other. 

Your eyes get lost in his for a split minute. At first, he might seem the cold type of person. His body is covered with tattoos, his hair is pushed into a man-bun, his fingers are covered with rings and he has some earrings. But it’s just appearances. This man is the sweetest and most caring person you’ve ever met.

A lot of your friends asked you if something is going on between you and Jungkook but you have never seen the man in front of you as more than a friend. Even the thought of it never crossed your mind.   

“But it was a good day,” he says, looking down at his food before he eats some rice. “All the clients were super nice and there was even a cute girl.” 

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued by the cute girl he met today. Jungkook's love life is quite calm. He's not the type to fuck every girl he sees, he prefers to date, fall in love, and take the time to love. He's just the romantic type of guy. 

“Don't look at me like that, yn,” he says, pointing a chopstick at you. “You’re too curious.” 

He sighs in defeat knowing that no matter what he’s going to tell you everything, and that’s what he likes about your friendship. You understand and know each other so well even though you’ve been friends for only a year, but it feels like you’ve known the other for like an eternity.    

“I just want to know what happened,” you say with a big smile on your face.

“We just talked and she asked me to call her one day,” he notices that you haven’t touched your food yet. “You should eat.” 

You take a bit of rice and eat it. Lately, it’s the only thing that you’ve been able to eat without throwing up. 

“And?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “Are you going to call her?” 

Jungkook is hesitating. Yes, she’s cute and physically, she’s his type. But not too long ago, he was seeing a girl that just left him suddenly because she got back with her ex. He liked her quite a lot and he doesn’t feel ready to go back through all the date nights and the flirting things. 

“Don’t know yet,” he says nonchalantly. 

“You should call her, Kookie. You need to see somebody else other than me,” you tell him. 

“That’s not true, I see Namjoon and Yoongi,” you roll your eyes as he mentions his roommates. 

But Jungkook doesn’t spend too much time at his place with his roommates, he’s mostly with you because he loves to be around you, he loves how you make him feel. Oddly, you make him feel at home. He has never felt that with anybody else and he cherishes your friendship so much. 

His eyes linger on your left arm, smiling as he sees the reason that brought you two together. 

More than a year ago, you decided to get a tattoo and a friend advised you to go to Jungkook. You did some research about him and his work, reading a lot of opinions about him. After a while, you decided that he was the one, he was going to be the one who would do your first tattoo.

For Jungkook, you were just another client, nothing more. But you were kind of scared and nervous, and during the whole time, he was comforting you. It was the first time he was doing it. Usually, his clients hide their fears and put a brave smile on their faces. 

When you saw the lion on your arm, you were so proud and so thankful that he did it. It was just perfect, even better than you had pictured it. 

As he was doing it, he asked you why you chose to tattoo a lion. ‘The lion is known to be the strongest animal, and to me, this tattoo will represent my strength. It will remind me that no matter what life throws at me, I have to be strong.’ 

And he liked it. He liked how you’d look beyond the piece of art on your arm. He liked how he was not just tattooing a simple lion on an arm, he was tattooing your strength. After that, you naturally stayed in touch and you’re just happy to have met him.   

“And did you get any news from Minho?” 

Minho is a guy that you met some weeks ago and with whom you had a lot of fun. It was ephemeral but you had the time of your life with him. You don’t regret anything, you’re just sad that now, it’s over. 

You knew it was never going to last because you are both from two completely different worlds. You’re just a simple girl that barely manages to have some money at the end of the month while he’s one of the wealthiest men in the country. 

He's Park Minho, the son of the one and only Park Joonki. He has tons of holdings around the world and he controls basically everything in Korea. He’s truly very powerful, and the chances that you’d stay in a serious relationship with Minho were very low. 

“Nope, and I don’t think I’ll ever hear from him again.” 

“I thought he liked you a lot,” he says while eating. 

You furrow your eyebrows, not understanding. Jungkook was the first one to say to be careful with this kind of guy, and now, he’s kind of being nice to him. 

“He looked at you affectionately, but I just wanted you to be careful.” 

“In the end, we all knew this was just us having fun and nothing more,” you say. 

Even if you’re sad that it ended, you’re kind of grateful that it ended now. Otherwise, you know you would have started hoping for things, and the end of whatever you had with Minho would have been harder for you. 

“You truly deserve someone who loves you like all stars and the moon love nights.” 

A big and bright smile appears on your pale face, and Jungkook swears he has never seen anything prettier. Sometimes, he realizes that he looks at you like a man completely in love. Those moments are not very frequent but when they happen, they hit him hard and it’s very intense. 

You wonder if he knows the way his words make your heart stutter in your chest. But then you start to wonder why you’re even feeling such things for him, Jungkook is just your closest friend. But it's the first time that something touches you that much, not even your exes managed to make you feel that way. 

“Thanks, Kook,” you say, “and you deserve someone that loves you like Juliet loves Romeo.” 

Juliet and Romeo have a tragic love story, but they deeply loved each other. To you, Jungkook deserves to be loved with the same intensity. He deserves someone that would give his heart and soul to him because he’s the best human you’ve ever met. 

“That’s tragic,” he replies. 

You feel the urge to stand up and sit on his lap to caress his dark hair, but it would feel weird since he’s just your best friend. 

“Yes, but she truly and deeply loved him. That’s the love that you deserve.” 

His heart squeezes, and he looks away, feeling uncomfortable to glance straight into your eyes. He never thought that you’ll reply to his comment but he’s just happy you did.   

“Just reach out to that girl, okay?” 

Maybe she’s the one, maybe she’s the girl that Jungkook is meant to be with but he’ll never know it if he doesn’t call her. He raises his head up before nodding. 

“Now, eat. You’re scaring me with that pale face.” 

As he mentions your pale face, you remember the damn pregnancy test. But now isn’t probably the best moment to go and check out the result. You don’t want to worry Jungkook for silly things right now because you’re still convinced that you’re not pregnant. 

“I just have to go to the bathroom,” you say as you stand up and walk in the direction of the bathroom. 

As you enter the small room, you close the door behind you. Your heart is beating hard and fast. Although you think you’re not pregnant, you don’t know how you’ll react if it’s positive. 

You close your eyes and grab the test, your hands are shaking with nervousness. Even if you think that the result will be negative, the thought that it can be positive scares you, and that’s why you close your eyes. The truth is that you don’t even know if you want to open your eyes. 

What would happen if it is positive? What would you become if you’re indeed pregnant? Your life would completely change and you’re just not ready for that kind of change. Two years ago, you left your parents’ house because you wanted to pursue your dream of becoming a lawyer. Your career is on the rise, and a baby would completely ruin it. 

You most probably would have to come back to your parents’ house, and you’re not even sure if they will accept to help you. Having a baby out of a marriage and with someone that you’re not even dating would be seen as a shame for your family.      

Your heart is pounding more and more, it almost feels like it’s about to leave your chest. This simple test can completely change your life. 

“You need to see it, yn,” you whisper to yourself.  

You gather all the strength you have, wanting to know if your life will in fact change forever or if it’ll stay the same. Slowly, you open your eyes. The first thing you see is the reflection of your face in the mirror in front of you. What instantly catches your attention is how sick you look, no wonder that Jungkook seems worried. 

Your eyes gaze down at your fragile and shaking hands that are holding the pregnancy test. A loud cry leaves your mouth and tears roll down your face when you see the result.  

Jungkook runs to the bathroom as he hears you but you have completely locked yourself inside and he can’t open the door. He’s trying to get in because he needs to see you and understand what is going on.  

“Yn,” he says as he’s trying to open the door. “What happened?” 

Your hands let go of the test, making it fall on the ground, and your legs start shaking, barely being able to hold your body. The tears run faster down your face. 

The test is positive. Yongji was right, a human being is indeed growing inside of you. 

It feels like your entire world just collapsed under your feet and nothing could ever fix it. A baby is growing inside you, a human life has been created and that life will forever change your life. You’ll have to carry them for nine months and then, take care of them forever because they will depend entirely on you. 

The fact that you’re pregnant is more than a shock for you. You always took all the precautions for something like that to not happen. All the times you had sex with Minho, he was wearing a condom. You always made sure of it, at least, that's what you thought until today. 

Now, as your world is entirely falling apart, you remember one special night, a night that you had forgotten. Minho came to your apartment after a huge argument with his parents, he was really mad and you both drank a lot of wine. 

His parents wanted him to get back with Yeri and to marry her as soon as possible. Yeri, his ex, is the daughter of another powerful man in Korea. The union of both families will be the best thing. 

But Minho didn't want to be a puppet in his father's hands, he wanted to do things his own way. He wanted to marry the woman that he loves, it was not in his plans to marry just someone because his father craves more power. 

You drank for sure a lot that night and had sex on the couch. You were both so needy of each other, and you can’t remember if you used protection. However, it seems like it wasn’t the case. 

“Yn,” Jungkook calls you again, “open the door, please.” Hearing the concern in his voice breaks your heart. “Please, yn,” he begs, “I’m worried.” 

Jungkook rests his forehead against the door and he finally hears you sobbing and crying. It instantly shatters his heart. He wants to break the door to hold you tight in his arms. 

“My life is over,” you mumble as you cry. “Completely over.” 

He sits on the floor, his back against the door and he closes his eyes. He doesn’t understand what happened and why you suddenly say that.

“What happened?” he dares to ask. 

Your eyes now rest on the door before you sit on the floor and take a deep breath. To say that your life is completely over is an understatement for you. Your parents won’t ever accept you if you have a child without even being married, you’ll be the ugly duckling of the family. They’ll for sure reject you. 

How are you going to tell them that? You never introduced them to a single boy and now, you have to tell them that you’re pregnant with the wealthiest man in the country.  

“I am pregnant.” 

Jungkook is surprised. He knows how careful you are because your career has always been your priority, and having a baby right now was not on your plans. Plus, he knows how important it was for you to get married before having kids. 

“Minho?” he asks just to be sure. 

“Yes.” 

Your confirmation breaks his heart once again. Your friend knows that there’s no hope that Minho would help you with this. 

“Everything is over for me, Kook,” you cry even more now. “My parents will disgrace me, and Minho will never recognize this child as his because of his family.”        

The reality is hard to admit and it will be so hard to face this situation all by yourself. You’ll be completely alone in this and your baby will never know their families, they’ll just know you.

“I’ll be alone in this,” you add. 

You’re convinced your family will let you down because you’ll have a baby out of marriage. 

“No,” he replies straight away. “I’ll be by your side and I’ll never leave you.”

Even if you’re grateful for his presence, he can’t change the fact that it’s not going to be an easy thing.  

“It’s not the same, Kook,” you reply. 

Your friend is perfectly aware that he can’t ever replace the fact that Minho will never be present or that your family will most probably leave you. 

“Let me in, yn.” 

Right now, you just want to be alone in this bathroom for the rest of your life. 

“I want to hug you and comfort you.” 

After some seconds of hesitation, you finally open the door to fall in his arms. Nothing can comfort you at this moment, not even his strong arms holding you tight and pressing you against his body. Nothing. 

OCTOBER 6, 2018 

Yesterday, Jungkook stayed with you until you fell asleep in his arms. He didn’t want to leave you in this state, you were a mess and as your friend, he felt like it was his duty to be by your side. 

Jungkook didn’t sleep much during the night, thinking too much about your situation. He wants to help you as much as he can but he feels like there is nothing that he can do. He feels like the only thing he can do is to powerlessly watch your life fall completely apart. But that’s something he can’t accept.  

Someone knocks at your door, and without much willingness, you open it. To your surprise, it is Jungkook. You thought that he was going to leave you alone for a little while, giving you the time to adjust to your new reality. 

“Hi,” he says while entering your apartment. “I haven’t slept much and drank too much coffee before coming.” 

That explains why he looks tired and why his eyes are red. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” you frown while you close the door. 

Jungkook finally turns and looks at you. You seem even worse than yesterday, which is totally understandable.

“I canceled all my appointments for the morning,” he replies and you look at him with worry. 

Why did he do that? He hates to do it. Even when he’s sick, he works because he hates to disappoint his clients. ‘There must be something really important that he needs to do,’ you thought.

You come closer to him, crossing your arms over your chest. His heart is pounding fast and now, he’s wondering if what he has in mind is actually a good idea.  

“I’ll be the father,” he quickly says, causing you to raise an eyebrow, not sure you understood what he just said. 

“What?” 

He takes a step in your direction, closing the space between the two of you. “Minho will never recognize your baby. His father will never let him do that, or he’ll make sure to make you disappear just to hide the mistake of his perfect son.” 

For that, you totally agree with him. Park Joonki will do everything in his power to hide you and your baby, and power is something that he has in abundance. 

“Your baby will grow up without a father figure, and I’ll be by your side as long as we live. I am your closest male friend and most probably, your baby will end up seeing me as their father.” 

For Jungkook, the chances that your baby ends up calling him ‘dad’ are very high. 

“Nobody needs to know that Minho is the biological father,” he says as he takes one of your hands in his. “And I think for your safety, it’s better if nobody knows.” 

You just can’t believe that he’s ready to do this for you. What kind of friend is he? A superhero? You don’t clearly know yet, but the simple fact that he wants to help and protect you just proves that he’s the best person you’ve ever met. 

“You know, I was actually thinking of hiding it from Minho and his super-powerful family,” you mention while caressing his hand. “It’ll be easier for everyone.” 

“No, yn, it’s not going to be easy for you,” he replies. “And for the baby.” 

You still can’t believe that inside of you a human being is growing and that one day, you’ll birth them. That same person will be a part of you and they’ll only exist thanks to you. It’s just incredible but it feels like it is just too much for you at the moment. 

“I can’t just let you take a role that is not yours,” you say to him. “I can’t let you be the father of a child that is not even biologically yours, and I won’t let you sacrifice your life because I was careless.” 

You just can’t accept this. Jungkook will have to put on hold his romantic life because he’ll be too busy to be the father of someone else’s baby. 

“I’m not sacrificing my life, yn,” he shakes his head. “I just can’t sit and watch your life fall apart. Minho will probably never accept to be the father of your baby, and we don’t know yet how your family will react. But I know one thing, no matter what, this situation will destroy you.” 

You close your eyes, trying to hold back some tears. This is already destroying you. You’re going to be a mother, a moment that is supposed to be the happiest one of your life, and yet, you’re losing everything because of it. 

“My love life is dead, and sometimes, I even wonder if girls look beyond my body. They just want to have sex with me because I look like a bad boy when it’s not what I am looking for in life,” he explains. “So, I’ll be the father of your baby for you.” 

“No, Jungkook,” you shake your head and turn your back to him. “I won’t let you sacrifice everything.” 

You feel his body pressed against yours, his head resting on your shoulder and his arms enveloping your body in his strong arms. 

“I am proposing this to you, I thought about it a lot and I am just ready to do it,” he murmurs in your ear. “I’ll do anything for you, yn.” 

Those last words send shivers down your spine. 

“But I’ll give you some time to think about it, and when you’ll feel ready, you’ll just give me an answer,” he whispers and you nod. 

You stay in each other's arms for a while, enjoying the presence of the other. 

If you accept his proposition, you know that Jungkook will be an excellent father. He’s just so carrying and loving, and having him as their father will for sure be a good thing. But there is no need to recognize them as his child. No matter what you decide, he’ll be the father figure of your baby. 

OCTOBER 13, 2018

A week passed since Jungkook proposed to you that weird idea. 

You’ve come back to work, trying to keep your mind busy and to not think only about your pregnancy. At the moment, nobody knows that you’re pregnant. You just don’t know what to do, you’re just too lost. You decided that until you haven’t decided yet what to do with Jungkook’s proposition, you won’t tell anything to anyone. 

Not even Yongji is aware of the fact that she was right all along. 

When you enter the restaurant, you see your friend sitting at a table alone, and you join him. A bright smile stretches across his lips as he sees you coming. For the first time in a week, you’re smiling. A smile that only Jungkook can bring out. 

You haven’t seen him in a week because you didn’t want his presence to influence your decision. You knew that his big doe eyes would influence you or even his presence. With him, you always feel safe and happy. He’d make you say ‘yes’ in a heartbeat.  

But it feels good to see him after all this time. Life felt empty without him by your side and time seemed to move slowly. You missed him, more than a lot.   

He quickly stands up and he pushes back the chair in front of him so that you can take a seat. “Hi, yn!”  

As your eyes linger on him, you notice how his dark long hair is partially pushed back, revealing his undercut, and he’s wearing a white cotton shirt instead of his usual sweaters. It’s a slightly see-through shirt as some of his tattoos can be seen, and you can’t help but wonder if he’s wearing it on purpose. Is he teasing you? 

You swipe that thought away, you’re convinced that Jungkook only loves you like a friend and that he wouldn’t do such a thing.   

“Hello, Kook.” 

Being now in front of him, you can smell his strong perfume. Y Eau de Parfum from Yves Saint-Laurent. You offered him that perfume some time ago, and since then, he has been putting it but only on special events. 

Knowing it makes you feel special. So special. 

You take a seat, your smile never fading away. The knuckles of his fingers brush against your back, giving you goosebumps. This is for sure new for you, never have you felt that with Jungkook. 

Quickly, he walks to his chair and sits in front of you. Although your bodies are still a bit far from the other, his knees skim yours, giving you more goosebumps.     

“Wow, you look all good!” you say with a bright smile on your face. 

“You look even better,” he licks his lips as his eyes look down on you. 

From the moment you entered that restaurant, Jungkook couldn’t keep his eyes off you.  

Since you were going out with your best friend, you decided to put on a beige dress with long sleeves. It’s a beautiful dress that you use quite often when you go out and you know Jungkook likes it. That’s actually the reason you’re wearing it. It’s cold outside, at this time of the year, it’s always too cold, and so, you’re also wearing long boots. 

From the outside, it really looks like you’re both on a date while you’re just going to decide about the future of your baby.  

“Why a restaurant?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow. 

Yesterday, you asked him if it’d be possible to meet tonight at a restaurant. Usually, you both don’t go out alone, there is also someone else but you simply want to get out of your apartment for just a moment. 

“Just wanted to be out of my apartment.” 

His eyes are filled with a lot of brightness, it’s like they are sparkling, and you feel something inside you that you can’t quite explain. It’s like it is the first time that you’re seeing your friend, and this feeling inside you is something you have never felt around him.   

Actually, you felt it with Minho but this is stronger. So much stronger. 

Jungkook can’t help but find you super attractive, and to him, you’re glowing like never before. He’s wondering if it’s related to your pregnancy or if you’ve always been shining but he never noticed it. 

“Let’s take a look at the menu,” you suggest, trying to look away from him, and he nods. His eyes on you are making you uncomfortable and it makes you wonder what you need to do. You take the menu and read what this restaurant has to offer. 

After your proposal to go out, Jungkook offered to come here, one of his favorite places. This is the first time you’re coming to this restaurant.     

A couple of minutes later, a waiter arrives at your table and asks what you’re going to take. It’s an Italian restaurant and a lasagna is the meal that you choose, you haven’t eaten one in ages. 

When the waiter leaves, you focus again on your friend. “I’ve been thinking a lot about your proposition, and I’ve made up my mind.” 

He just nods, encouraging you to keep talking. He doesn’t want to interrupt you, scared that you’ll change your mind in the middle. 

“I think you’re right,” you bite the inside of your cheek, you’re a bit nervous. “No matter what, you’ll be around and for sure, you’ll be the father figure of the baby. For sure, Minho will never be around, his family will never let him recognize a child he had with some random girl.” 

There is no need to be a genius to know that. However, Jungkook was the first one to understand that. 

“Having you as their legal father will be helpful for everything.”  

The man in front of you listens carefully but a feeling of happiness grows inside him. In some way, he kind of expected that you’d accept his proposition but he was skeptical. 

“But in the future, I don’t want to hide it to our child.” 

This last week, you realize that it’s better if your baby is in fact recognize as Jungkook’s child. Not only would they grow up with a father but if something happens, he’ll be able to make decisions without you being there. You don’t even doubt that he’d take the right decisions, no matter what. 

But if your baby grows up thinking that Jungkook is their biological father, it would eventually end up bad. They need to know that they have a biological father that is not the same as their actual father. 

“I don’t want secrets between the three of us.” 

For Jungkook, it’s totally understandable. He can imagine the shock someone can feel when they found out years later that the man that raised them is not their biological father. Telling the truth as soon as possible is for sure the best decision. 

However, he’s delighted that you accepted his proposition, and he’s more than happy to become a father. All he wants to do right now is jump off happiness and scream to the world that he’ll become a father. 

It’s something he has desired his entire life. Since a very young age, he dreamed of having two kids, a boy, and a girl but he always thought that he’d found the love of his life before. He never imagined that his love life would become a disaster as it is right now. The lack of luck on that field made him give up on his dream. 

Now, you’re changing everything.  

“I will of course say to everyone that you’re the father, I won’t ever mention Minho to anyone.” 

If you hide Minho from everyone, they’ll never know that he’s the biological father of the child you’re carrying. Nobody will raise questions and it’s a lot better like that. 

“I don’t know what the future holds but I’ll forever be thankful that you’ll take on the role of Minho.” 

During this past week, you tried to contact Minho a couple of times but you never heard anything from him. His family is most probably managing to convince him to do whatever they want or he just simply doesn’t want to speak with you anymore. 

And it just breaks your heart because you wanted to tell him that you’re pregnant with his child. You wanted to tell him that he’s going to be a father. But you know that most probably he’ll never find out about your baby’s existence. 

“As I told you, I’ll do anything for you, yn,” he replies with a small grin. “And now, that includes the small human growing in your womb.” 

You reach for his hand and hold it tight, the warmth of his hand on yours is pleasurable. You feel the urge to caress the top of his hand with his thumb. Your eyes get lost in his gaze, and never before have you felt this good.

You owe everything to the man in front of you. Without any doubt, you know that life will be much easier with him by your side. You won’t be scared of the future because he’ll help you deal with whatever may happen to your baby. A baby that is now his. 

“Our baby,” you mumble. 

Hearing you say that makes it feel real. Jungkook realizes that he’s really going to be a father. You will forever be linked to your closest friend. It doesn’t scare you at all because you know that he’ll be the best father for your baby, even better than Minho. 

“Our baby,” he repeats with a big and bright smile on his face. 

The fact that you’re pregnant is something that still feels unreal. You guess that you’ll only realize it when your baby bump will start growing or maybe when you’ll see your baby for the first time on an ultrasound. 

The dinner went well and you’re both super happy, looking forward to seeing what the future holds for both of you. 

You just left the restaurant, walking now to your apartment that isn’t really far but Jungkook wants to be sure that you safely arrive at your place. Now, he has to take care of you and your baby. Things have changed and he doesn't want something bad to happen to you.  

As you're walking, your bodies are very close, his hand brushing against yours, and you’re just dying to hold it and intertwine your fingers with his. During the entire dinner, you were just craving his touch, wanting his warmth to embrace your body, and never before it has happened. 

“You really don't have to take me home.” 

Jungkook stops, looking at you. “I want to be sure nothing happens to you on your way home.” 

You can't help but smile at his words. Tonight, the simple fact that he takes you home warms your heart although you’re perfectly aware that he would have done it any other day or with anybody. Jungkook has always been such a gentleman. 

“I don’t want anything to happen to you or the baby,” his dark eyes glare down on your body, halting at your stomach, and his right-hand grabs your left one, stroking your hand with his thumb. 

“For sure, nothing will happen to me or our baby with you.” 

You lean closer and press a soft kiss on his cheek. Both of you feel butterflies down your stomach as your lips touch his skin, and even when your lips leave the skin of his cheek, he still senses them. His dark orbs are totally hypnotized by your sweet face. 

In the dark of the night, your face sparkles, and the smile that starts to appear lights your face even more. Jungkook wants to take a picture of your face right now and spend the rest of his life looking at it, remembering just how twinkling you are right now.   

You take the opportunity that his hand is holding yours to intertwine your fingers before you start walking again, still with a bright smile on your face. 

Since you found out that you were pregnant, it’s actually the first time that you’re happy about it, and it’s all thanks to Jungkook. Seeing you this happy delights him. He just can't wait to see your womb swell but he's even more impatient to meet the baby. 

You quickly arrive home. Once in front of the building, you stop but still keep your fingers entwined. You look at each other and you feel like you're sixteen again. It's like you're with your crush for the first time although Jungkook is just your close friend. However, now the father of your child.

“I just don’t know what to say to you,” you sincerely say to him. “You are the father of my baby just because you don't want my life to fall apart and I don't think somebody else will ever do that to me.” 

You perfectly know that nobody else would have proposed to be the father of your baby just to protect you from the biological father’s family. Somebody else would have maybe never thought about it. 

Jungkook's eyes look down at you and his free hand caresses your cheek. 

“As I’ve been saying, I’ll do anything for you without any hesitation.” 

As you look up at him, you’re aware that you are both looking at the other differently, making you wonder if you always have felt something more than just friendship for him but never noticed it.  

Your hand leaves his and holds his waist tight as you crash your body against his, your head falling against his chest. The silence of the night is quickly replaced by the sound of his heartbeat pounding fast under his broad chest.

To say that you're thankful is an understatement. You don't know what could have happened if he had never suggested being the father. Most probably your family would have been ashamed of you, Minho's father would have given you money to abort or would have done everything to hide you, and you’d be alone, crying for being stupid enough to get yourself knocked up. 

“I am so thankful to have met you,” he whispers in your ear. “My life was so bland before you.” 

Your arms tighten even more around his waist, loving every word he said. Jungkook smiles, thinking that he must look like a total idiot right now. 

“Let’s get inside,” you say to him, “it’s too cold.” 

He nods before you both head to the building. You take the stairs as you live on the first floor, it's faster than using the elevator. You open the door and let Jungkook enter. 

“Do you want to drink something?” you ask him as you take your coat off.  

Jungkook stays at your apartment’s entrance, not moving at all. His eyes are on you as you turn the lights on and ask him if he wants to drink.

You’re beautiful in every way to him. The dress you’re wearing embraces your body perfectly, letting him see how imperfectly perfect your body is. It’s not the first time that he’s checking you out but this time, it’s different. You’re not just his friend anymore. You’re the mother of his unborn child. 

Jungkook realizes that he’s looking at you like he’s in love with you. He’s even wondering if the small glass of wine that he drank at the restaurant is causing this all. Without the wine would he be looking at you like that? 

“No, thanks,” he answers, shaking his head. “I think I drank too much already.” 

A small chuckle leaves your throat, thinking about the only glass of wine he took. Jungkook usually drinks way more than just a glass, you have already got drunk together after a miserable day. You can tell that he’s totally sober right now. 

“What makes you giggle?” he cocks a brow. 

“It was just a glass,” you answer with a smile on your face. “That was literally nothing for you.” 

He rolls his eyes, a smile appearing on his face. 

“You don’t even know if I drank something before seeing you.” 

You cross your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow. You’re not convinced at all by his little lie. 

“I’ve already seen you completely drunk, Kook,” you say. “I know what you look like when you drink too much.” 

“You’re annoying, yn.”  

“But you love me,” you’re still smiling at him before hugging him again. It feels good to be in his strong arms, more than good actually. 

Jungkook is also liking it a lot but before things get out of control, he just takes a step back. He’s scared to do or say something that he’ll regret. Right now, happiness is taking control of his body but he has to be careful. This feeling is maybe just temporary.   

“Maybe, I should get going,” he says. 

“No, don’t go,” you pout. 

You don’t want him to go. You want him to stay and hold you in his strong arms, feeling his warm body against yours. You have never craved so much his touch as you do right now, and it scares you a lot. 

This is new to you, wondering if it is real. You’re pregnant, your hormones are most probably all over the place and the man in front of you is going to be the father of your child. All those elements can cloud your judgment at the moment.  

“Stay just a little bit more,” you add. 

Jungkook crosses his arms over his chest before your little hands rest on his forearms. Your big eyes can’t stop looking into his, waiting for an answer. To him, it’s like you’re a small kid begging their parents to let them do whatever they want. But you’re just extremely adorable. 

“Stop looking at me like that.” 

He hates the power you have over him, you don’t have to do much to have him wrapped around your finger. He won’t say ‘no’ to anything you’ll ask.  

“You know I’ll give you what you want.” 

A smile appears on your face. 

“Can we watch a movie?” 

He nods before taking his jacket off and putting it on the coat hanger. You grab his hand, guiding him through your small apartment to get to the living room.  

“I’ll let you choose the movie while I’ll get us some snacks and drinks.” 

You disappear into your kitchen while Jungkook sits on your couch to choose the movie. You’ve already seen so many movies together that it feels like you have already seen all of them. 

Quickly you come back with some biscuits and drinks. He notices that you didn’t bring him any beer or alcohol which he's thankful for. He’s way too scared of what he could do with alcohol. You put everything on the coffee table, Jungkook’s eyes watching every one of your moves. You take a seat next to him, getting comfortable by his side.

“I choose some random shit that we haven’t seen yet,” he informs you. 

The movie that he chose isn’t important to you, all you care about is to spend more time with your baby daddy. This attraction you’re feeling for your friend is getting to be more obvious to you. You crave more, and you simply can’t deny it.  

Jungkook slowly comprehends that right now he’s loving you way more than a friend. The entire night, he was having doubts about it but feeling you sitting next to him gives him the time to realize things. 

The way he’s dressed is all for you and to get your attention. He never wore a see-through shirt because he knew that his dates would start flirting too much just to get laid, which was something he didn’t want. But wearing it tonight was like a sign from his subconscious, telling him that he didn’t actually mind getting laid. 

Nonetheless, you’re also wearing his favorite dress. A clear sign that he didn’t miss. He can’t help but think that you know what you were going to do to him. Jungkook isn’t wrong at all. At any other moment, you wouldn’t have put that dress on. Deep down, all you were hoping was to ruin the friendship.  

You’re sitting close to him, your leg pressed against his, and both of you try as hard as possible to focus on the movie. But neither of you can’t stop glancing at the other. 

Nevertheless, it seems that fate desires to bring you together, and the two characters of the movie start to make out heavily. Jungkook's face instantly heats up, completely embarrassed while your body completely freezes. That was for sure something unexpected, especially when you’re realising that you’re probably having a massive crush on the man sitting next to you. 

A piece of slow and romantic music plays in the background of the kissing scene. This only puts you both into the mood of the scene. The tension between you and Jungkook is heavily growing. 

The two of you ignore what to do as you’re both embarrassed by the way your bodies are reacting to a simple kissing scene. You’re just thankful that it’s not a sex scene otherwise you’d be hiding under the couch, ashamed to be completely turned on. 

This is becoming harder to handle as it becomes obvious that this scene is turning you on. You rub your thighs together, craving his touch more and more. Slowly, you turn your head towards him. Jungkook’s body is as tense as yours, you perfectly understand that he’s in the same state as you. 

“Kook,” your voice is barely audible but he hears you and finally looks at you. The first thing he sees is how desperate you are for him. 

“Yn,” he whispers as he closes his eyes for a few seconds. “Don’t look at me like that.” 

The movie is completely forgotten. There are just the two of you and nothing else. The tension between you two is at its highest and what’s going to follow next will only depend on the two of you. Are you going to give in or not? Are you going to ruin your friendship? 

“I can’t, JK.” 

Your heart is pounding hard, ready to burst at any minute. Jungkook’s eyes go from your eyes down to your lips, resting a little too much on them. He’s wondering what they feel like and the more he thinks about it, the more he wants to taste them.  

To you, it is more than evident that he wants to kiss you. So, you decide to be the boldest one, leaning closer to him, and he knows what’s coming, swallowing hard and biting his lower lip. He desperately wants it so he doesn’t move at all as you lean closer. 

However, for Jungkook, you’re moving too slow and he decides to close the gap for you, his lips finally meeting yours for a fervent kiss. His hand finds its way to the back of your neck, holding you while he kisses you like a desperate man. It simply feels like you’ve never kissed somebody before.   

The kiss is so passionate and deep. Jungkook's lips are soft against yours like he is scared to break you as he kisses you. But they feel good on yours, it’s as if they were meant to kiss you. 

As you’re kissing him with love and passion, you realize that since day one Jungkook was more than just a friend. There has always been a connection so strong between you that definitely was more than friendship but you always ignored it. The spark between you was slowly growing stronger and stronger until the moment it would inevitably blow up. That moment is happening right now. It just completely exploded unexpectedly, and god, it’s just so pleasurable.   

Jungkook pulls you onto his lap as he craves to feel more friction. That action lifts your dress up, revealing the skin of your legs. He’s craving to feel you in every possible way and bringing your body this close is completely driving him crazy. Both of you are panting hard but it clearly doesn’t matter. 

You keep wanting more and more.

As you break the kiss, you quickly unbutton his shirt, to reveal his bare skin to your eyes. You enjoy the view, his tattoos in the full display just for you. It’s not the first time you’re seeing his chest and tattoos, but it’s the first time that you’re looking at his body with lust. 

You instantly touch his covered tattooed skin. He has quite a lot of tattoos but there are still some uncovered parts. The ink on his body adds a lot of sensuality to him, and now, it becomes quite clear why all those girls are always so needy around him. He looks like a bad boy, but it’s one with the biggest heart you’ve ever met. 

Jungkook shivers from the feeling of your fingertips brushing against his skin. You press your lips against his, needing to be completely intoxicated by him. He licks your bottom lip before he grips it with his teeth, making you moan. As he hears your sweet moan, his dick twitches inside his pants and he’s growing harder underneath you. 

You open your mouth, Jungkook seizes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside your mouth, finally meeting yours. You moan at the feeling, and unintentionally, he flexes his toned thigh. You feel it in all the right places, making your pussy clench around nothing and it makes you moan again. 

This unintentional action ends up being a good thing and he can’t help but smirk. His hands go down on your exposed thighs to caress them. Your skin is soft under his palms and his hands feel huge on your body.  

Before doing anything else, he pulls one of his legs out from under you in order for you to adjust yourself on his thigh. Your dress is pushed even higher, Jungkook has now a proper view of your black panties, and your clothed pussy is brushing now against his dark pants. 

Both of you know where this is going but none of you wants to stop it. You’re getting addicted to the other more and more and the thought of stopping doesn’t even cross your mind. 

“Fuck, yn,” hegroans when you start moving your hips against his thigh.  

He presses his lips on yours for a filthy kiss, his tongue passing past your lips and licking against your own. This feels more than good, everything about you is addictive, and Jungkook wants to have sex with you. 

This is totally unusual for him but all this situation is different. You’re not just a flirt that he met some days or weeks ago, you’ve been his closest friend for more than a year. He doesn’t doubt that beyond the physical attraction you love him for who he is. 

As his tongue plays with yours on your mouth, his hands find their way to your waist and guide your hips as you’re straddling his thigh. A small moan leaves your lips but the man in front of you swallows it directly. He pushes his thigh firmly against your clothed pussy and flexes the muscle once more. 

“I like how you’re riding my thigh, butterfly,” he whispers against your lips. “But I want to feel you properly.”  

One of his hands slides down on your body and tugs aside the fabric of your panties until your clit is directly pressed against his thigh. A breath falls from your lips as you drag your pussy against his thigh.  

Jungkook pulls you firmly against his flexed muscle, and once his hands are back on your waist, he quickens the pace of your hips. A trail of moans leaves your mouth, loving the friction of his pants against your pussy. 

“I love to hear you moan, butterfly,” he whispers in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. 

He just knows what to say and when to do it. He loves to be in charge, that’s obvious and that is a surprising thing for you. You never thought Jungkook would be this type of man. He looks so gentle and adorable all the time that you thought that he’d be the sub type. 

His length is getting harder and tighter on his pants, he needs to do something about it otherwise he’ll explode completely. 

“I will touch myself as you keep riding my thigh,” Jungkook says with evident desperation in his voice. 

Before you can even process what he said, he inserts two fingers in your mouth, and with his other hand, he lowers his underwear, allowing his cock to slap against his lower stomach. His cock takes your breath away, standing proud in between your bodies. He’s a bit thick, but not too much though, and as well long but again not too long. It’s clearly not how you pictured the crotch of your friend. This sight alone gets you wetter.    

You suck on his finger, coating them with your saliva, and that alone snatches a groan out of his pretty swollen lips. A proud smile appears on your face. When he feels that they are soaked enough, he pulls them from your mouth. His fingers hold his cock, covering it with your saliva as they go up and down the length. 

“Damn,” he mumbles, his head slowly going back at the feeling of his fingers on his length and your clit rubbing against him. “You’re doing this so well, butterfly,” he comments. 

The little butterfly nickname brings actual butterflies in your lower stomach. It’s such an adorable nickname even though it’s said in the middle of a naughty time. 

You bite your bottom lip as you stare deep into his eyes. The intimacy of the eye contact with the friction against your clit makes the wave of pleasure grow intensely inside you, and for sure, you won’t last long before that wave hits you hard.  

“Pleasuring yourself on my thigh while I touch myself,” he growls as his hand keeps pumping his cock. “It’s too hot, butterfly.”  

Jungkook runs his thumb over the tip of his cock and grips his bottom lip between his teeth. He strokes his cock at the same pace at which your hips are working on his thigh, and he also feels like he’s about to cum on his hand. 

“Fuck, butterfly,” he growls as he looks down to watch your throbbing pussy rubbing against his thigh, “you’re doing this perfectly.” 

You put your hand on his shoulder and circle your pussy faster against his thigh. You’re so close. 

“Kook,” you say and his gaze meets yours once again, “I’m so close!” 

The hand resting on your waist goes down and his thumb circles on your clit. It sends you over the edge, the wave of pleasure hitting you violently and you feel your orgasm in every part of your body. A guttural moan leaves your mouth and you close your eyes to enjoy the feeling.  

The sight of you coming undone makes him come, a deep groan coming from his throat as cum flows on his hand. 

You hide your face on the crook of his neck, completely surprised that you gave in to temptation. Nobody says anything, you’re just both trying to catch your breath and you close your eyes. 

Slowly, you fall asleep in his arms, exhausted from what happened. Jungkook senses it but doesn’t say anything as he enjoys having you in his arms. 

As you’re falling deeper, he moves a bit and you groan a bit. “I’m just putting back my pants, butterfly,” he whispers in your ear.  

He does it quickly to not disturb you more. “I’ll put you in your bed, you’ll be better.” 

“No,” you mumble half-awake, “I want to stay in your arms.” 

He stands up, holding you tight in his arms. You mumble some words that he doesn’t understand, making him chuckle. Once in your bedroom, he carefully places you in your bed before laying next to you. He crawls to you, holding you again in his arms.       

OCTOBER 15, 2018

For the past two days, Jungkook has been living in your place, only leaving you to go to work. Having him around you all the time has been helping you to embrace and accept this pregnancy even more.  

The first appointment with the obstetrician has already been taken and you’re super excited to discover your baby. But most importantly, you want to know if nothing is wrong with them, their health is what worries you the most. 

You don’t know exactly how far you’re on this pregnancy, and in the past weeks, there has been some alcohol consumption. That is leaving you wondering if it affected their growth and you just want to be sure that the baby is in fact good health.     

Although everything seems to be fine, you and Jungkook haven’t spoken about what happened two days ago. Indeed, just the thought of what happened makes you a bit uncomfortable. But you need to speak about it, you’re going to be parents and you can’t just ignore the feelings you have. 

“Kook?” you say as you sit in front of him at the wooden table of the kitchen. 

As usual, he’s wearing a large shirt with some training pants but his hair isn’t pushed into a man-bun as he has been doing it quite a lot lately. This simple outfit gives him some sexiness, and you know that in a long term, you won’t be able to resist his natural charm.  

“Mmm,” he says looking at you. 

“Can we speak about what happened two days ago?” 

You’re scared that if you don’t bring the conversation up, he would never do it. When it comes to feelings, Jungkook is always the first one to hide which means that you have to be the bravest one. 

The man in front of you swallows hard when he hears your question. Of course, he prefers to avoid the subject since he’s a bit ashamed of what happened. But he knows how important it is to communicate.    

“We really need to, JK,” you can see in his eyes that he’s not comfortable. “We are going to have a baby, and being scared of speaking about certain topics is clearly not the best thing to do.”

“I know, yn,” he answers. “I’m just ashamed of how needy I was for you.” 

You decide to stand up, walking to him, and sitting in his lap. Your fingers brush his long hair, that part of him is one of your weaknesses. You never thought you’d be into long-haired men but here you are, loving Jungkook’s long hair. 

As you sit on his lap, he remembers how well you made him feel when you were riding his thigh.   

“Don’t be ashamed,” your eyes look into his dark orbs. “We both wanted it.” 

One of your hands goes down on his face to caress his soft skin. 

“I never expected to feel more than friendship for you, JK. Never,” his eyes never leave yours, scared that if he closes his eyes, you’ll disappear. “But I liked everything I felt that day and how you made me feel.” 

His heart is slowly starting to pound fast.  

“Nobody made me feel the way you did, and I was only riding your thigh.” 

You don’t even want to imagine how he could make you feel with his cock buried deep inside you. 

“I want to feel that every day, Jungkook.” 

You’re not ashamed to tell him that you desire more. More of his lips on you, more of his hands on your body, more of his touch. More of him. You want to get addicted again and again until all your mind can think of is him.  

“You know that if we do that again, we can’t be just friends anymore.” 

That limit seems to have already been exceeded. It happened the moment you found out you were pregnant and he proposed to be the father. That gesture proved that he’d go beyond everything to protect you. 

“We already ruin our friendship,” you slightly push some of his hair back. “We stopped being friends the moment we decided to kiss each other.” 

His eyes go down to your lips, remembering the way they were kissing him two nights ago. It felt like entering heaven. Since that night, he can’t stop thinking of your lips on his. 

“Be my boyfriend, Jungkook,” you tell him. “Don’t be just my baby’s daddy.”    

It’s the first time a girl asks him to date her, but the boldness of your suggestion doesn’t even surprise him. Between the two of you, you’ve always been the boldest, and he has always liked it.  

He wants to be more than just your friend and experienced love with you. God, there are so many things that have crossed his mind after that night and in all of them, you were his girlfriend.  

“You know you already have me wrapped around your finger,” his hands slide down to your waist, bringing you closer to him and holding you firmly against his hips. You can feel his bulge just under your core, and he’s not even hard.   

Jungkook hates when he’s not in control, but with you, most of the time, you’re the one in charge. He’ll do whatever you want him to do. 

“I’ll be whatever you want me to be,” he adds. “If you want me to be your sex friend, I’ll be it and if you want more, I’ll give you more.” 

Without any second thoughts, you kiss him with passion. You want him to be more than just a partner with whom you have fun. The love you both feel for each other is just too strong. 

“I want to be your girlfriend, Jungkook,” you whisper on his lips. “I want to give you all the love you deserve.” Your thumb caresses his cheek. “You deserve the love of Juliet.” 

A smile spreads across his face, remembering the time you told him that he deserves to be loved like Juliet loved Romeo. Although it was a tragic love story, he wants to know a love as strong as that one.   

“And you deserve the love of all the stars and the moon.” 

Jungkook kisses you once again. This is something he never expected, to start dating you the moment he becomes a father. 

JANUARY 17, 2019

For the past three months, a lot has changed. 

Jungkook has moved on to your place because everything will be easier if you live in the same apartment. Since he was sharing his with Namjoon and Yoongi, it was evident that you were not going to live with him and his roommates. 

Your relationship is slowly getting stronger as days pass. Not much has changed. You spend more time together now and kiss a lot. There’s a lot of oral sex but no penetrative sex yet. There isn’t any real reason behind it, you’re just comfortable with the oral sex at the moment and you know that there will be more when you’ll feel ready. 

To everyone, you have both announced that you were going to have a baby together. The reactions were overall positives. Both of your parents were more than happy and excited to become grandparents. Your parents were a bit tougher because you’re not married, but they still accept it since you’re together. But your mother, as well as his, started to cry as they realized that their babies were going to have a baby.  

Your siblings were just thrilled to have a niece or nephew tin the way. The feeling was shared by your friends, some were just surprised that you were having a kid when you used to describe each other as just friends. 

Yongji was the one that was a bit more skeptical at first, not truly believing it but you managed to convince her. This little secret, you just want to keep it between the two of you for the moment. You have to admit that you were scared of her reaction. What would she say? Would she still support you if she knows? And as selfish as it sounds, you want to have your best friend by your side during all your pregnancy.     

Nobody knows or even suspects that Minho is the biological father of the baby you’re carrying. And it’s better like that, especially since the Park family announced publicly that Minho is going to marry Yeri in July. 

You still keep trying to contact him but less than at the beginning. It’s clear now that he’s never going to reach out for you, he’s back with Yeri and he will start a family with her. You’re convinced that this was all meant to be. Minho will never know that he got you pregnant and that he created a human being with you. 

“Can I help you?”  

You finished work a bit earlier today, there wasn’t much work to do today and you decided that it’d be the perfect occasion to visit Jungkook’s store. 

The man in front of you asking if he can help you must be the new partner of your boyfriend.  

Last month, he decided to listen to you and found a partner to help him out. Of course, he was picky, and it took him a little while to find the perfect partner. Ironically, his partner is named Park Jimin. 

Jungkook has been praising him a lot, and you’re more than happy to see that this partnership is working perfectly. There are even more clients now but your boyfriend finds more time to work on his personal projects. 

“I am here for Jungkook,” you say with a smile on your face. 

“Do you have any appointment?” he asks politely. 

“No, I am his girlfriend.” 

“Oh, sorry,” Jimin says before bowing to you. “I didn’t know.” 

“Don’t worr,” you still smile at him.

“He’s still working but he should be almost over.” 

You nod before thanking him for the information. He proposes to you something to drink or to eat but you politely decline. You’ve already eaten a lot today, this crazy baby has been giving you the wildest cravings and you know that if you start eating now, you won’t be able to stop. 

Your stomach is slightly swollen but with all the layers of clothes you’re wearing, it’s not even noticeable. Your baby has been growing a lot lately which leads to your stomach swelling a lot too. You’re certain that in some days, even with all the clothes you put to protect yourself from the cold weather, you won't be able to hide your baby bump anymore. 

You were about to take a seat in one of the chairs in the entrance when a man comes from behind with Jungkook following him. The man checks you out quickly but your boyfriend notices it and by the way his jaw clenches, you bet that he doesn’t like it. 

Another young lady enters, and Jimin takes care of her while the man pays for what Jungkook did on his body before leaving the store. Jimin disappears behind with the girl, leaving you alone with your boyfriend. 

His hair is pushed back into a man-bun, a large grey shirt covering his toned torso while ripped blue skinny jeans cover his long legs. This view is more than mouthwatering. This hot man standing in front of you is all yours. 

“Hi, butterfly,” he finally breaks the silence between the two of you. 

“Hi,” you smile at him. Watching him like that, all you want to do is make love with him until you forget your own name. 

Jungkook walks closer to you, offering you a soft smile. “I was not expecting you,” his thumb finds its way to your cheek, caressing it like you’re made of glass. 

“I wanted to surprise you.”    

Jungkook leans his face closer to yours, his breath brushing your skin. “It’s definitely a good surprise, butterfly,” he whispers in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. 

Your boyfriend is a master in teasing and turning you on with a few words. He can literally say “car” and it’ll turn you on. You don’t know how he does it but what’s sure is that he’s a master in making you weak. 

Pulling back a little, he stares into your eyes before pressing his lips against yours. The kiss is filled with heat and passion and you already know where this is going. The only problem is that you’re in his store and all the passers-by can see the two of you. 

“I have twenty minutes before my next client,” he says on your lips. “We could make good use of those twenty minutes,” he suggests before taking your hand and guiding you to the back of his shop. 

You enter his private room, the one where he works on his personal projects and where he eats during his small breaks. There is a couch on the left corner, a small table with two chairs, and a fridge on the right corner. It’s a small room but he doesn’t need much more. 

Jungkook closes the door so nobody can come in and disturb you for the next few minutes. There’s music playing in the room. Often from The Weeknd. The song sets the mood clearly.  

Your lips meet once again for a languid kiss. You want him so much, and you desire so much more than just his tongue and fingers.   

You want him to insert himself inside you. 

“I want you, Kook,” you whisper in between kisses. 

He breaks the kiss before looking at you. “Take your jacket and pants off.” 

You don’t have much time to have sex, and it’s better if you start undressing. So, Jungkook takes his clothes off quickly while you undress too. You struggle a bit more since you’re carrying a little human inside your body. 

He opens one drawer from the little furniture next to the couch, taking a condom from it. The sight of the condom surprised you.  

“Why do you have a condom here?” you ask while frowning. You’re half-naked and crossing your arms over your chest. 

“I kind of hoped that one day you’d come and we’d get laid here.” 

This little confession from your boyfriend is surprising. So, all this time he was dreaming of having sex with you on that couch and never said anything to you. 

“You’re very surprising when it comes to sex,” you admit. 

“Everybody has their own little fantasies,” he replies back. 

“But why are you even taking a condom?” you ask him, a bit confused. 

You’re pregnant, and the condom is completely useless. You are both healthy, nothing can happen if he penetrates you. 

“We don’t want you to get pregnant while pregnant,” he answers. 

His answer makes you giggle, and he arches a brow while tilting his head as he does not understand what is making you giggle. 

“I can’t get pregnant while being pregnant, babe,” you tell him. 

“I read some articles that it can happen.” 

Jungkook has been deeply involved in this pregnancy. He clearly doesn’t want to just give his name to your baby to protect you, he wants to be the best partner for you and father for the baby. He has been reading a lot of pregnancy books, and he even chats with some other dads on blogs. 

When you found out that some weeks ago, you felt lucky. Lucky to share this with him and to have him by your side. You know he’ll never let you down, and even if the worst happened, he’d give his best to be the father your child deserves. 

“The chances are very low, babe.” 

This is for sure a question you’ll ask your obstetrician on your next appointment. However, you strongly believe that it would never happen. 

“But there’s a risk and I don’t want to take it.” 

He’ll gladly make love to you without a condom but he knows how hard it will be for you if you get pregnant while being pregnant. He sees how sometimes it is hard for you with just one baby, and if he could, he’d be the one carrying the baby. 

But the reality is different, and your body is the one bearing his child. So, he’ll do anything and everything to make your life easier. And wearing a condom will for sure make it easier.    

“Now, take your shirt off, I want to see your swollen stomach.” 

Since your stomach started to show, Jungkook adores to see it. Not only does he speak with the baby but he also caresses it. He wants to connect with his child before they arrive. He wants them to recognize him. For him, it’s the way to get really involved. However, he has also developed some sort of weird kink. He also likes to see your belly when you have sexual interactions. 

You do as he says, revealing your upper body to him. Your boyfriend stares at your body, the prettiest one he has ever seen. The fact that you’re bearing his baby makes you even more marvelous to him.      

“You’re so wonderful, butterfly.”  

Your boyfriend guides both your bodies to the couch, sitting on the couch while you sit astride him, your ass pressed against his length and letting your legs rest on either side of his body. Your stomach is pressed against his, and he loves the feeling. 

His lips find yours for another passionate kiss, your hands cupping his adorable cheeks while his hands go down on your body, caressing every inch of you. 

His lips break the kiss. “I didn’t like the way the client checked you out.” 

His little jealousy is something that you find very cute because it’s little. Sometimes, he just says some things like that and you can’t help but find it adorable. 

“I could say the same about all the girls that check you out when you walk in the streets.” 

Jungkook is terribly handsome, you’re very aware of it. You can’t go for a walk with your boyfriend without having all the girls checking him out. Jealousy is something you constantly feel but you trust him. You know he loves you and he would never do something to break your trust.     

You kiss him again fervently, wanting to taste his lips over and over again. Slowly your lips go down to his neck and you decide to mark him as yours. You softly suck his skin and to your surprise he let you do it. He knows that you just want to let all the girls know that he’s already taken.  

You feel the rumble of his chest as he starts to groan, and you feel his hands lay on your waist. Accidentally, your ass grinds against his length, and a groan leaves his lips.

“Fuck, butterfly.” 

Once you’re done with the little hickey, you lick the sensitive spot and smirk, happy with what you just did. 

His fingers find their way underneath your chin and lift it up. He wants his face to be the only thing you look at right now. His eyes are sparkling a lot and you know that you could forever get lost in his eyes. 

His lips find yours for yet another kiss and you could kiss him forever without getting sick of it. His tongue licks your lips, inviting you to open up your mouth for him. His tongue explores the insides of your mouth, making you moan into his mouth. 

“I need you, Kook,” you gasp as you feel yourself getting wetter. “I really need you, now.”  

Right now, all you want is to feel him inside you. You don’t want him to lick or finger you until you’re coming hard as well as you don’t want to feel his cock buried in your mouth until you swallow all his cum. 

“Looks like my little butterfly is very needy,” he says smirking against your lips. “But she’s lucky that all I want right now is to feel her tight walls around my hard length.”  

You both start removing the last piece of clothing that you were wearing, which are just your underwears. Jungkook finally sets ‘kookie junior’ free, that’s how you’ve been calling his cock lately. He doesn’t like it much but teasing him is one of your passions, so you decided that from now on you’ll call his length ‘kookie junior’.   

Your hand starts pumping his length, resulting in Jungkook rolling his head back and letting out a moan. Seeing and feeling his long and thick cock just makes you want to feel him inside you even more. 

You move your hand up and down his length at a slow pace at first before quickening. He is getting harder, panting out curses of how good it feels to finally have your hand around him again. Precum is leaking and you use it as lube to allow your hand to easily move along his dick.  

“Fuck, yn,” he curses as he looks at your hand working on his cock. But as he looks down, the first thing he sees is your baby bump and that sight can make him come undone in a heartbeat.  

You feel his cock twitch beneath your fingers, and you decide to stop this torture. You know that he’ll come right now and you still need to ride him before that happens. A desperate groan leaves his lips. 

“We don’t have the time for it, Kook.” 

You grip the condom he took seconds before and rip off the packing with your teeth. Then, you put the condom on his hard length while his hand slips to your wet core and he curses when he feels how wet you are. 

“Fuck, butterfly,” his cold fingers brushing against your core makes you moan. “You’re so wet,” he smirks and gathers your wetness in his fingers before bringing them to his mouth and sucking them. Your eyes are glued to what he’s doing, and you admire the way your wetness mixes with his saliva in his mouth. This is so fucking hot. 

Once he finishes sucking his fingers and the condom is put on his cock, his gaze meets yours and his hands fall to your hips, guiding your body up and then back down as you slowly sink onto his cock. 

You moan as he stretches you out, your nails sinking on his shoulder as you feel a mix of pleasure and pain.  

“Fuck!” you whimper as he groans, more than happy to be inside of your heat. You’re sure that Jimin and the girl he’s tattooing heard his loud groan, but you simply don’t care. All you care about is to be fucked by this man. 

“You’re so fucking big,” you say. 

Both of you stay still once his cock is fully inside you. You press your forehead against his, giving time to your body to adapt to his huge cock. You look into each other's eyes and he offers you a big smile. 

“It just feels like you were made just for me,” he says, and you smile back at him. 

“Maybe we are meant to be together,” you give him a quick kiss. 

“I am starting to think that we are,” he whispers. 

Jungkook is convinced that when you entered this shop almost two years ago, you were meant to be his soulmate. He never believed in that shit before you, but now that he’s with you, it all makes sense to him.  

“I could stay like this forever,” you say before giving him another kiss.    

“Me too, butterfly.” 

It feels like heaven, even though it hurts a little bit to have him fully inside of you. 

“Can I move or do we wait a bit more ?” he asks with concern. 

Instead of answering, you grind your hips to let him know that you’re ready to feel him move. Your prominent stomach brushes against his abs and a groan leaves his mouth.  

Your forehead leaves his, and you sit up before he starts to thrust into you without any hesitation. His strong hands go down on your hips, holding you in place as his hips begin to thrust you at a slow pace. With every thrust he gives you; you feel your stomach get tighter. 

There aren’t words to describe how good it feels to share this moment with him. Everything is perfect with him, and finally having more than just oral sex with him feels like you got a ticket to heaven. You look at him, hot as hell, and that sight makes you moan. 

Knowing how Jungkook loves to handle everything when it comes to sex, you know that all you have to do is to sit on his cock and let him do all the magic, enjoying every single second of this moment. He is strong enough to hold your body up as he fucks into your cunt from below. His thrusts become fast as he starts to set a pace you are both comfortable with. 

“Feels good, butterfly?” he questions. 

You give him a simple nod, not able to make a proper sentence because you’re completely lost in your own state of bliss. Jungkook loves seeing you like this, completely fucked up. 

His hands caress your stomach, and in the middle of this debauchery, you can’t help but find this moment adorable. You know he’s doing it to reassure your baby, he confessed to you once when he did it while he was fingering you. And you have to admit that you like the feeling of his hands rubbing your skin. 

Your walls pulse around his length, squeezing him and it results in his thrusts becoming more brutal. He is deep inside of you, and you are loving it. Tears start to roll down your cheeks because of the way he’s pounding inside of you. He’s stretching your insides so much with his rough thrust and it makes your whole body tremble. 

If he keeps pounding you like that, you’re sure that you’ll give birth right now.  

“Gonna cum, Kook,” you whisper to be the most discreet, although you’re sure that Jimin has already understood that you’re both having sex.

Your nails sink into his shoulder, and he groans at the pain and pleasure it gives him. He grips your hips harder as he continues to roughly thrust inside you, and you are sure that you’ll have bruises.

“Go ahead, butterfly, make a mess for me,” he groans as he keeps thrusting hard. 

Those dirty words are all you need to let your orgasm go. You are coming, biting your lower lip to muffle your moans. Your thighs are shaking but he keeps thrusting into you while you’re completely high from your orgasm. 

Jungkook is completely loving the way you’re creaming his dick and just this sight could make him cum but he is determined to at least make you come one more time before he would come.

Right now, his priority is you and he just doesn’t give two fucks to the client he’s supposed to tattoo in some minutes. 

He quickly changes positions, flipping your bodies so that now he is on top of you and you are lying on the couch. Your legs wrap around his waist as he keeps thrusting into you. He’s although very careful with your stomach because he doesn’t want to hurt you or the baby. This is too much for your body and quickly, tears start falling from your eyes, again.

“Kook,” you’re trying to speak but your mind can’t think straight from all this overstimulation, “too m-much,” even though it feels like it’s too much, your body is secretly loving. 

“I know you can take it, butterfly. Be a good girl for me, okay?” he whispers in your ear before he licks the spot right under your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You nod and you feel his tongue going down from your ear to your neck. 

Jungkook sucks and bites the skin of your neck, leaving a bruise. 

“I want everyone to know that I’m the only one who can touch you, butterfly,” his thrusts are still brutal, and you don’t know if your body can handle all of this any longer.  

“Fuck, Kook!” you say as your eyes roll back into the back of your head and he chuckles lowly into your ear. 

Due to his brutal thrust, the couch is creaking, and your breasts are bouncing like crazy. They also have swollen a lot since the beginning of the pregnancy, and they are becoming heavier as time passes.  

His thumb makes contact with your clit and starts rubbing it. All of this feels so bad and so good at the same time, but you never want him to stop. You’re doing everything you can to not moan but Jungkook is clearly pushing you to do it. He’s driving you completely crazy. 

The tip of his cock hits that sweet spot and you come all over him again. Your pussy clench around him as a loud moan escapes your lips, and the juices of your release are leaking out everywhere. 

He keeps fucking you through your high as he chases his own release. Your walls keep clenching around him and that is all he needs to come. He closes his eyes, enjoying this moment of release and you are sure he’d never look so sexy.  

Jungkook collapses over you as he decides to leave your pussy some needy rest. You both try to catch your breath for a little while, and you leave a lot of kisses on his sweet face. He’s loving it and he could stay like this forever but he has one final client before you can both go home. 

“I’ll tattoo the client, and you stay here until I come back, okay?” he lifts his head up to look at you. 

“Okay, Kookie.” 

He pulls his kookie junior out of you before taking the condom filled with his cum and throwing it in the trash. He puts his clothes back on while you do the same but at a slower rate. Before leaving the room, he kisses you. 

“Can’t wait to do this again tonight, butterfly.”    

FEBRUARY 20, 2019

Minho never expected to see you again, especially not in a supermarket. More than five months have passed since he last saw you. 

He's perfectly aware that he’s the one that completely put an end to whatever you two were having. He adored you a lot and under other circumstances, he's convinced that things between you would have worked. But Yeri, his ex whom he dated for years, came back to him, and things changed. He knew that if he chose you over her, his family would always reject you even if you’d get married. 

But he chose the easiest way for everyone, avoiding causing a lot of suffering. Things would have never been easy. He knows that he will never love Yeri as he used to but they share a long love story and she is what his family wants.   

As you’re looking at the fruits you’re going to buy, your swollen womb catches his attention, making his body freeze completely. Your right-hand strokes gently your obvious baby bump. 

His heart squeezes at the sight, thinking that there are chances that he’s the father. He closes his eyes for a few seconds. For the past months, you’ve been texting him frequently, trying to contact him but he refuses to reply because he knows that he’d fall into your arms in a heartbeat. This is beyond hard for him. Of course, he desires only to reply to your calls and texts but things are better like this.  

Now, it all makes sense. You’ve been texting him because you want to tell him that you’re pregnant. If he would have answered you, he knows that things would have been completely different. Most probably, he’d be right next to you in this supermarket and he’d be doing some jokes about your bump. Most probably, he’d be preparing his baby’s room instead of planning his wedding. 

“Shit,” he mumbles to himself. 

As he was about to walk in your direction, he notices Jungkook placing himself next to you. He’s smiling at you while his hand finds its way to your back. If he didn’t know that he’s your best friend, he’d think that you’re together. 

You look up at Jungkook before he leans closer to you and presses a kiss on your lips. Minho’s heart squeezes even more. You replaced him like he thought you would but you deserve it.  

After kissing Jungkook, you turn around and see Minho from afar. He’s barely recognizable with his hat and sunglasses but you notice him straight away. He’s still the biological father of your child, you’d recognize him under dozens of layers of clothing. 

“I’m coming back,” you say to your boyfriend before walking in Minho’s direction. 

Jungkook doesn’t even have the time to say or understand what you said before you leave him alone in front of the fruits. Minho sees you coming but he doesn’t move. His eyes are only focused on your stomach. It’s still small but it’s obvious that you’re carrying a human. 

“What are you doing here?” 

You’re more than surprised to see him here. It’s a public space, anyone could see him and it’s for sure the last place on earth where you thought you’d see him. 

“Just needed to buy something.” 

A bit far from him, you see his bodyguards. That was the thing you hated the most about him, his bodyguards. They were always around him, never leaving the two of you in peace.  

His eyes barely look at your face, and you know this is your only chance to tell him everything. You’ve been trying for months without success. 

“We really need to talk.” 

This is probably not the best place to have a serious conversation but you don't want to let the chance to speak with him slip away from you. 

Minho nods and you take a look behind you, staring at Jungkook. His jaw is clenched, showing you that he's not very happy to see you with Minho but you offer him a small grin, trying to reassure him. The last thing you want is your boyfriend to get worried.

You both start walking in the supermarket as you explain everything to him. From the way you found out about your pregnancy to the decision you took to recognize Jungkook as the father. 

Minho’s heart squeezes as he hears how you felt alone the moment you found out, but he’s grateful that Jungkook was there, holding you in such a difficult time. You needed someone at that time, and he just feels sorry that he wasn’t there.   

But he can only agree with the decision you took. Although he would have loved to be a father and be there every step of the way, he knows his father. He would have first tried to make you abort. Then, if it didn’t work, he would have simply made you disappear. He would have given you a lot of money to buy your silence and make you leave the country.  

“Jungkook will be their father but if you want to see them, I won’t ever stop you.” 

“I won’t ever do that,” he replies. His words make your heart clutch, thinking about the fact that he doesn’t want to meet his child. 

“Why?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. 

“All I want for that baby is to have the best life possible. Having two fathers won’t make things easier.” 

“We don’t have to necessarily tell them straight away that you’re their father.” 

For sure, until they’re three or four years old, you won’t say anything because they’ll be too young to understand and you’re scared that it would not provide them a stable life. 

“We could wait for a while and introduce you as a family friend until they’re old enough to understand.” 

He doesn’t say anything, just walking and looking in front of him. Being a father is something he has always dreamed of but his family always made things too hard. He ended up not wanting kids, too scared to become like his father. He never wants his children to hate him. 

“I want that baby to be protected from my family, yn,” he finally confesses before halting and looking at you. “I don't want them to know the pressure of being part of the powerful Park family.” 

You take his hand and squeeze it. 

“I prefer it if they never know that I am their birth father. They’ll be safer with you and Jungkook.” 

“But you can still be a part of their life. You can still love them and watch them grow. That’s your right, Minho,” you stroke your thumb on his hand. “This baby will forever have your blood in their veins and nobody can change that. They exist thanks to you and you have all the rights in the world to love them and to be loved by them. Maybe it will never be like you picture it but it will still be love.” 

A small tear runs down his face, and you wipe the tear away. 

“Jungkook and I would never hide to them that he is not their biological father but they’ll only know that you’re the father if you want it.” 

“I never deserved to have you in my life, yn,” he answers. “You’re just too nice.” 

“You deserve everything, Minho. You’re a good person, you were just unlucky to be born as the Park heir. I know you’ll always take decisions based on your family’s approval but nobody has to know about this baby,” you put his hand on your stomach. “Just you, Jungkook and I.” 

He nods before hugging you. This is something he can do. He can be around, see his child grow, and love them but nothing will ever be said to anybody, not even his fiancé. This will be his secret. 

“You’ll be a great mother and I am sure Jungkook will be the best father this baby will ever have.” 

You’re convinced of the same. Jungkook will for sure be the greatest, loving and protecting father ever. 

MAY 28, 2019

Jeon Hyejun. 

You’re looking at your baby boy that is peacefully sleeping in your arms. After nine long months of waiting, he’s finally here, and you’re on your own paradise with Jungkook. 

Hyejun is perfect, prettier than you ever imagined him. He looks a lot like you but he definitely inherited some traits from Minho, you can’t hide it. Jungkook is sitting next to you in the hospital bed, looking at you and his son. 

Nothing prepared him for this very moment. Nothing. He doesn’t even know how to describe what he’s feeling at the moment. All he knows is that he’s finally a father. The father of your son. 

When he saw you in his store, scared to do your first tattoo, he never thought that he’ll start a family with you and that he’ll love you more than life itself. But that’s the magic of fate. You don’t know who you might meet tomorrow. Anybody can drastically change your life. 

“He’s so beautiful,” you mumble as you pass one finger on your son’s face. 

“And so tiny,” Jungkook comments. 

Minho was contacted when you birthed Hyejun. He was the one requesting it because he wants to see him straight after he was born. Hyejun might never know that Minho is his biological father but he’ll have him in his life. 

He has already opened a bank account for him, and he’ll put some money until he’s old enough to be the holder of the bank account. He will never be his father but he still wants to provide him the best future he can have. Money is something he has in a huge quantity and it’s the least he can do. 

“We’re finally parents,” Jungkook adds. 

“It’s the beginning of a new adventure for us,” you look up at your boyfriend with a bright smile. 

You’re more than exhausted but you wanted to put your son to sleep before you sleep too. You wanted to be the first person to do it. 

“And I know it’ll be the best adventure of our lives, butterfly.” As he says your nickname, your eyes instantly look down at his arm where a little butterfly has recently been tattooed. A butterfly made for you. A butterfly that represents his immense love for you. A strong love that he has never experienced before you.

[thatsdemko]

inexperienced? - o.piastri

masterlist | pairing: Oscar piastri x Norris!fem!reader. summary: in which a little joke takes a hit on you, and you prove to your brother that you do in fact, get it. warnings: mentions of sex + 18+ content + some soft fluff a/n: I’m back! so so happy to have something out xx ps please don’t do this I’m sure that this wouldn’t go so well with your family xx

your cheeks are a deep red hot and you’re sure the moisture forming on the back of your neck is from the sheer embarrassment right now.

“what?” Lando laughs, your sisters cracking up alongside him, “I’m sure the only thing those two do is vanilla at this point, we don’t have to worry about osc and y/n ever having a kid.” the laughter that spews out of him brings tears in his eyes but only brings you embarrassment as you sink further into your seat.

the conversation deterred rather quickly. it was a family dinner—a rare one to be specific—where your mother announced she’d found a few gynecologists for you to visit if you were to continue to see Oscar. Lando busted into a fit of laughter that you were sure he’d choke if he didn’t stop.

it wasn’t that you and Oscar weren’t exploring each other— because that would be a lie you definitely were, but you were taking your time. Oscar was your first serious boyfriend, and he was very serious about making sure you were comfortable with whatever were to come next.

“I’m sure osc has never even had sex. he’s got an innocence to him.” your sister snickers, but your mind is playing all the dirty moments it can of Oscar being nothing but innocent.

he was shy, always had been and even when it came to bedroom activities. you both never pushed each other beyond what you wanted and it was always sweet how nervous he got. it was like you weren’t alone in the first timers pool.

“do you guys do anything like that?” lando asks out of sheer curiosity, but he doesn’t realize you’d left the table. you’d snuck out of the laughing fits and into the living room far away from them.

“oh y/n! we are joking!” your sister hollers from the other room, “give us all the piastri babies in the world!”

—

“that really happened?” Oscar’s voice is hoarse in your ear. his heartbeat pounding against your shoulder, you can hear his uneven breathing pattern as his pushes himself against you.

“it was so embarrassing.” you grumble as you turn into his body and allow him to hold you like he always does.

“what did lando say? all we do is vanilla?”

“he knows im a virgin.” you reply in your brothers defense, and while you have no previous context of what vanilla is, you’d say that these activities you both do were far from that.

“not anymore are you.” Oscar reminds you with a nibble on your earlobe, “it doesn’t grow back, once it’s gone, it’s gone.”

your body shivers against him, “I don’t think it counts if I come in the first thrust.”

“it does count, but we can work on that.”

your first time was special. after many months of working on trust and definitely not laughing at each other in awkwardness, he finally set up candles and rose petals around his apartment. he did whatever he could to make you comfortable, and that night will probably be etched in your brain forever.

you practically floated home that evening and that next evening your mother laid down the recommended gynecologists at the dinner table. she knew you’d done it, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to notice the hickeys and the way you smiled at visibly nothing.

“you know lando is going to go into the office and tell everyone you’re not fucking me.”

Oscar rolls his eyes in response. it didn’t bother him that people thought he wasn’t getting it. he knew he went home to you and did whatever you two pleased before sleeping. Lando could spread all the false rumors around that he wanted, but Oscar never would care. that always showed you that Oscar was way more mature.

“one day you’ll get pregnant and he’ll still think we aren’t doing it.”

“there’s only one way to show him we are doing it,” your playful smirk makes his stomach swirl in excitement and anxiety, “you scare me, Norris.”

—

“why the fuck did you have sex in my bed?!” Lando shrieks running down the stairs towards the kitchen where you’re buttering toast for your dear boyfriend who’s covered in hickeys. a marking that certainly shows your bother otherwise.

“oh was that your bed? I’m so sorry, we just were really into it.”

[fireinmoonshot]

the hard way | tyler owens x fem!reader

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader Summary: You and Tyler Owens have a bad habit of butting heads, but all it takes is one hint of jealousy and things change in the blink of an eye. Warnings: Tyler is lowkey an asshole, but reader can be too, there is a creepy guy that tries to come onto reader and puts his hands on her. Word Count: 4.2k A/N: I rewatched the original Twister movie today and got this idea while watching it and then it all just came out of my head onto the page and here we have it! I had so much fun writing this, it's honestly one of my favourite Tyler fics I've done so far. I hope you all enjoy it. Thanks for all the love on my Twisters fics so far!

“Oh, here we go again,” Boone says, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches you walking towards Tyler, your laptop in your hands. Judging by the look on your face, you have something fairly important to show Tyler – and Boone knows Tyler won’t be happy about it.

Dani sighs beside him, her legs kicked up on their cooler from their spot at the motel. It’s late at night and none of the storms had turned into anything today, leading to a very long day for all of you. You’d driven hundreds of miles only to end up with no new footage.

“How long do you think it’ll take him to get mad?” Dani asks.

“He’s just spotted her and he already looks annoyed, so I’d guess straight away.”

They watch on from a distance as you finally reach Tyler. You move to stand beside him so he can see the screen of your laptop. “I was right after all,” you glance up at him. “See this? That storm was never going to amount to anything and even the radar showed it dying out. We could have saved ourselves half a tank of gas and a few hours if you’d listened to me.”

Tyler rolls his eyes and looks away from your laptop, trying to focus on not burning the dinner he’s been cooking the team on the barbecue that the motel has. “Okay, I get it. But I can’t go back in time and listen to you, so will you just drop it? I’ve had to listen to this all day. You’re drivin’ me insane, sunshine’.”

“Well, if you had listened to me, I wouldn’t have kept bugging you about it, T.”

It’s never been smooth sailing between you and Tyler. You get along most of the time, sure – you have to when you’re working together. But you also tend to butt heads more often than not. With both of you having studied meteorology, you’re the only two members of the team with formal training, which means you often have differing opinions on your interpretations of the weather and the forecasts. 

You disagree with Tyler, he disagrees with you and the rest of the Wranglers watch on, both amused and irritated at the fact that the two of you just can’t seem to work together sometimes. There are, of course, times when you can deal with it. But today… well, Boone had been glad to get out of the car at the end of the day and distance himself from the two of you.

He swears he’s not riding with you both tomorrow.

“If I listen to you now, will you stop bugging me still?” Tyler looks at you.

With a scowl, you slam your laptop shut and hold it under your arm. “If you listen to me tomorrow, then I might stop bugging you. I am not having another failed day chasing because of your inability to choose which storms to follow.”

Tyler sighs. “Why do you always have to do things the hard way?”

You huff and walk away, heading back over to the rest of the team. You grab a drink out of the cooler and sit down on the tailgate of Tyler’s truck, sitting your laptop beside you. The other members of the team watch you cautiously, like you’re a brewing storm that could become a tornado at any moment.

“Anyone wanna take my spot in the truck tomorrow? I’ll ride elsewhere,” you offer.

Boone stares at you for a moment. “You promise?”

You make a face at Boone and take a sip of your drink. “Yes, I promise,” you say. “I’m sorry you had to listen to all that today. God, he just drives me up the wall sometimes. I don’t know how he expects us to continue running this damn Youtube channel or get the research we need if we don’t get the right storms to chase.”

“Hey, no Tyler talk while you’re over here,” Dani pipes up. “This is a safe zone.”

“Sorry, sorry,” you mutter, lapsing into silence just as Dexter, Lily and Kate re-join the group, having headed upstairs to their rooms to refresh themselves before coming back down for dinner. You watch as Kate heads over to help Tyler out.

By the time the two of them bring dinner over to you, you’ve managed to cool off a fair amount and are now discussing the forecast for tomorrow with Dexter, who is leant up against the truck, looking at your laptop over your shoulder. 

“Burgers are ready,” Kate announces as they place the tray of them on the small camp table that someone had set up earlier in the evening. “We worked real hard on them.”

You’re surprised when Tyler picks up two paper plates, puts a burger on each of them and then walks over to you, handing one of them to you before taking the seat beside you on the tailgate. 

“Truce?” He says, looking across at you. “I’m sorry ‘bout today, I mean it.”

Your lips quirk up into a smile. “You promise you didn’t poison my burger?”

Tyler chuckles. “No, not unless Kate put something in there that I didn’t see.”

“Okay, then. Truce,” you nod. “But I’m not riding with you tomorrow.”

He raises his eyebrows just as he takes a bite of his burger. It takes him a few moments to reply, refusing to speak with a mouth full of food – something his mother had instilled in him from a very young age. “What? Why? You’re not still that mad at me, are you?”

“No, I just need a change of scenery or I’m worried I’ll run you off the road. I saw the way you got today when you got distracted cause I was arguing with you. It’ll be good for us to cool off and get a break from each other.”

From across the group, Boone adds “I think you just want to argue over the radio, actually. That’s what you mean by a change of scenery, isn’t it?” His voice is teasing.

“Funny,” you narrow your eyes at him.

“You can ride with me and Lily tomorrow,” Kate changes the subject ever so slightly. “Boone can ride with Tyler. Just like old times, right?”

You look at Tyler, expecting him to be happy with the idea of you riding with the others tomorrow so you don’t bother him all day, but instead he looks concerned. His eyebrows are knotted together and the look on his face shows he’s displeased. 

“Ty?”

He blinks and the look disappears off of his face. “Yeah, go for it. Boone and I’ll be right, hey buddy?” He raises his beer in a cheers to Boone, who does the same thing. “Don’t miss me too much from the other car though.”

“Me, missing you? I think you should try not to miss me, T.”

Tyler grins. “Easier said than done, sunshine.”

The following morning it feels strange to be getting into a car that’s not Tyler’s red truck. It’s your usual mode of transport. Your seat is the passenger seat and it has been for most of the chases in the past, except for ones where footage was the primary purpose of the chase and not research. 

You’re just lifting your bag up into the trunk of Lily’s car when Tyler swoops in behind you and helps you lift it – as if it weighed more than it actually did, as if you were actually having trouble with it. You turn around, eyebrows raised. 

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Tyler grins. “Haven’t had a sudden change of heart, I see?”

“Not happening,” you smile in return. “You’ll be fine without me. You and Boone will be able to catch up like old times. And don’t worry, if we disagree on something, I’ll be sure to let you know about it over the radio anyway. I have Kate on my side today.”

Tyler laughs. “Oh, double whammy. I’m in danger today, aren’t I?”

Kate appears from the other side of the car, putting her own bag in beside yours. She wraps an arm around your shoulders and shoots a smile at Tyler. “You’re gonna regret letting her ride in a car other than yours today, Tyler. A day driving with Lily and I… she’s gonna be a changed woman by the time she gets back in your truck tomorrow.”

“That’s if I even want to get back in his truck, Kate.”

He stares at the two of you and then shakes his head and laughs to himself. “Okay, I’m getting Boone and getting out of here before Lily shows up and you guys gang up on me even more,” he turns and heads for his truck. “Drive safe, all right?”

You and Kate both laugh, watching him as he walks towards his truck, Boone joining him on the way there. Dani and Dexter aren’t far behind him, hopping into the van, and Lily comes bounding down the steps after them, her bag over her own shoulder. 

“We ready for today, ladies!?” She calls loudly from across the lot. 

“Let’s do this!” Kate matches her energy.

You take the back seat, feeling incredibly out of place in the car as Lily starts the engine and follows the other two cars out of the parking lot, leaving the motel behind. It’s smaller in this car compared to Tyler’s, and as you pull your laptop out of your bag and get the radar up on it to get another look at the storm you’d all chosen earlier in the morning, you wonder if you made the right choice.

You’ve been on the road for two hours, heading for a storm north of you when you look down at the radar again and see that it’s gotten smaller – not becoming the larger storm you were all hoping for and certainly not likely to produce a tornado. It’s your job to reach up and grab the radio from between Lily and Kate in the front seats to inform the others. 

“The storm’s shrinking, I think we should pull into a gas station and regroup,” you tell the others through the radio, already preparing yourself for the response.

It comes through almost instantly. Tyler, laughing, then his voice: “What was that you were saying to me last night about listening to you? Guess you’re off your game, darlin’.”

Kate grabs the radio off of you before you can say anything else. “Okay, we all chose this storm together, Tyler. Let’s not throw accusations around and not over the radio.” 

You’re unaware that in the truck, Boone is telling Tyler off for the exact same thing. 

“Thanks, Kate,” you reach forward and squeeze her shoulder as she hands the radio back to you. “Next gas station, let’s pull in and we can all look at the radar together. I don’t think we’re gonna get anything massive in the time it takes us to regroup.” 

“You sure about that, sunshine?” Tyler’s voice comes through the radio again. “I don’t know if we can trust your ability to forecast the weather anym–” His voice cuts off abruptly.

“Sorry ‘bout him,” You hear Boone say shortly after. “We’ll see you at the gas station.”

You give the radio back to Kate and lean back in your seat, sighing as you look out the window at the blue sky and the clouds scattered around it. How could he have been perfectly tolerable last night during dinner, help you with your bag this morning and yet be so irritating? You hadn’t even said anything to spur him on. 

It’s about an hour later by the time you reach the next gas station and you’re grateful when you can get out and stretch your legs. Lily and Kate both head for the bathroom while you head inside to order some drinks and food for the three of you. You don’t bother to wait for Tyler when you see him hop out of his truck. 

He makes his way up to you once you’re inside, waiting for your drinks to be made.

“How’s the other car goin’?” Tyler asks, nudging your shoulder gently.

You look at him, arms crossed over your chest, and look away, choosing to say nothing.

“Come on, sunshine. You’re seriously ignoring me? Where’s that fiery attitude of yours? Just cause you’re in another car doesn’t mean you can’t give me shit right back when I give it to you,” he tries. 

But you’re not interested in the slightest. His words had been uncalled for – especially when you’d moved to another car in an attempt to diffuse the tension between the two of you, and he’d just brought it right back up.

The waitress slides the drinks over the counter and calls your name just as Lily and Kate exit the bathroom, heading straight for you. 

“Can you guys watch my drink? I need to go grab my phone from the car,” you tell them.

Lily and Kate happily take your drink, moving to stand beside Tyler and make conversation with him as you head back outside to grab your phone. You don’t really need it that badly, it’d be perfectly fine to leave in the car till you headed back outside anyway, but it was your way of getting out of a conversation with Tyler. Not that it really was much of a conversation anyway.

When your phone is in hand, you make no hurry to walk back inside the gas station. You make note of several other storm chasers in the parking lot and filling up their cars with gas. It’s a popular stretch of road for chasers and you assume several of them had been chasing the same storm as you and had realised it was going to be a bust.

You almost bump into one of them as you’re heading back inside. You recognise him instantly. He’s in one of the more well known teams, one of the Wranglers rivals and one of the many other groups of chasers that think you guys are just in it for the money you get from the Youtube videos rather than a genuine love of weather and chasing.

“Well, if it isn’t my favourite Tornado Wrangler,” Xavier flashes a smile at you and holds the door open for you to enter, following in after you. “Bit of tension in the group, I hear.”

You frown, unsure about his words meaning, when he continues.

“One of my guys was switching frequencies in the van and got yours on accident. We, uh, we heard your little… disagreement with Owens,” he admits. “I promise we weren’t listening in on purpose. That’s the last thing I’d wanna do. But y’know… open channels and all.”

You can’t help but cringe at his words and let out an awkward laugh. “I’m sorry you had to hear that, Xavier. It’s nothing a little time and a successful storm won’t fix, anyway. I think everyone in the chasing community knows Tyler and I butt heads nearly every day.” 

“Butt heads? Honey, that sounded a lot more like an intentional insult to me.”

“No,” you shake your head. “No, Tyler wouldn’t do that.”

Hearing that Xavier thought Tyler’s words were an insult is the kick you need to make you realise that they weren’t. Tyler was the type to get on your nerves, that was true. But the type to intentionally insult you in an attempt to hurt your feelings? He would never do that.

Xavier gives you an unimpressed look. “Listen, honey – we have a spot available in our team and it’s yours if you want it,” He reaches out and places a hand on your waist, almost making you flinch at the action. You resist the urge to hit his hand off. “You have the degree to prove you know what you’re doing and I think we both know you’re wasting your time with the Wranglers. Especially proven that their leader seems to treat you like something on the bottom of his shoe… me, on the other hand, well… I’d treat you better.”

You try your hardest to control your expression, not wanting to come across the wrong way or to make a scene in front of everyone in the gas station – your team, his team and the several other teams and general patrons all milling about and eating their mid-day feed. Even though you feel uncomfortable as all hell and would love nothing more than to deliver a swift punch to his nose and book it straight back out the door. 

“Listen, Xavier,” you take a step closer to him and almost cringe at the way his lips move up into a smile at your closer proximity. “I wouldn’t join your team if it was the last storm chasing team on earth. If you think I’m wasting my time with my team, I hate to think how much time I’d waste on yours. I’ve seen how much time you spend looking in your car mirrors. If you didn’t know, the tornadoes don’t actually care how your hair looks.” You reach up and pat his chest condescendingly. “And if I hear you say one more bad word about Tyler Owens, I’ll make sure the whole chasing community knows about what happened here today, how you tried to come onto me just to get me to join your team. Trust me, it won’t end well for you.”

You don’t waste anymore time in removing his hand from your waist and leaving him standing alone as you head back over to your group. Kate and Lily are watching you from right where you left them, though Tyler isn’t with them anymore. 

Kate hands you your drink. “You all right? What the hell was that?”

“Just Xavier being an asshole,” you mutter, risking a look over your shoulder to see that he’s gone to join the rest of his group. You hope he’s seething and embarrassed by your words. “I dealt with him though.” 

You can’t shake the uncomfortable feeling still running through your body, though. You try and take a sip of your coffee to calm yourself down. It doesn’t work, really only making you feel more jittery and strange. 

“I’m gonna go wait out at the car, when you guys are all done we can check the radar together and decide where to go from here, all right? You guys can tell the others?” You ask.

Kate nods. “Yeah, course. You sure you’re okay, though?”

You look between her and Lily, noticing the worried looks on their faces, and try and put a smile on your own face to stop them from worrying so much. “Yeah, I promise. It’s just packed to the brim in here and I wanna get some fresh air after all the driving.”

You can feel Kate and Lily’s eyes on you as you leave, coming out the door you’d only just come inside through. You make a beeline straight to the car, taking a deep breath, grateful for the cool breeze on your skin and the warmth of the sun above you. The uncomfortable feeling starts to fade as you open the door to the car and climb up, putting your coffee in the cup holder and leaving your feet hanging out the door as you start to scroll on your phone to distract yourself. 

It’s only a few minutes later when someone stands in the way of the sun and casts a shadow over you. You blink up to meet Tyler’s eyes. He stands in the doorway of the truck, a hand on his hip.

“Already scouting a new group to join cause of me, are you?” He starts, and it takes everything in you not to roll your eyes. “I go to the bathroom for two minutes and come out to see you and freakin’ Xavier all close? When the hell did that happen?”

You let out a huff and squeeze your eyes shut. “Seriously, T, can you not do this right now?”

Tyler shakes his head. “I wasn’t trying to insult you over the radio, sunshine. Usually, you give it right back to me, so that’s what I was expecting, and I know I took it too far – Boone said as much after we put the radio down. I really am sorry about it.”

You open your mouth to tell him it’s all right, that you accept his apology, but he continues speaking, cutting you off and making you glad you never got a chance to actually speak.

“But out of everyone, I see you flirting with Xavier? I mean, come on.”

“I wasn’t flirting–”

“Sure as hell looked that way to me,” he huffs. “You two were all touchy. I saw it.”

You take a deep breath and move to stand up, forcing him to move out of your way. You close the car door behind you and turn to face him, crossing your arms over your chest. You are not going to have this argument like this. 

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous, Tyler.”

Tyler doesn’t hesitate before he replies. “Well, that’s cause I am.”

For the first time since you’ve known Tyler Owens, you’re lost for words. You open your mouth once, twice, unable to come up with anything to say to him. It seems Tyler is the same, just staring at you, his eyes ever so slightly wide. 

“Then… then you’re jealous for all the wrong reasons,” you manage.

You should be saying something else – teasing him, getting on his nerves, but your short response is all you can get out and it’s nothing like your usual tone when you talk to Tyler.

He frowns. “Why is that?”

You clear your throat. “Cause he was the one coming onto me, telling me to join his team and talking shit about you, and I was the one telling him not to talk shit about you and not to put his hands on me, like he thought he could clearly do without consent.”

As soon as you finish speaking, you regret your words only because of the look that crosses over Tyler’s face. He glances over your shoulder towards the gas station where you assume Xavier and his team still are. 

“That piece of shit,” Tyler mutters, and then he’s moving.

You’re quick to react, hurrying after him and reaching out to grab his arm and attempt to tug him to a stop. It doesn��t work the first time, but the second time it does. “Tyler, stop. You going in there is not going to help anything, it’s just going to make things worse.”

Tyler turns to look at you and you’ve never seen him look so mad before. 

“You’re telling me that guy put his hands on you and tried to come onto you and you don’t want me to go and give him a piece of my mind? Sunshine, he deserves worse than what I can do to him, but I’ll do my best,” he says.

You don’t miss the fact that Tyler manoeuvres your grip on his arm to take your hand in his instead, weaving his fingers in-between yours and giving your hand a squeeze.   

“I’m saying that I already gave him a piece of my mind, T, and I threatened that I’d tell everyone about what he did if he said anything bad about you again,” you explain. 

“I don’t care if he says anything about me, but the fact that he did that to you… everyone already deserves to know what a piece of shit he is,” Tyler seethes. 

You squeeze his hand, then. “I’m sure they’ll find out one of these days, but not today, T, please. I just wanted to come out here and get some fresh air and try and forget what happened.”

Tyler takes a breath and then takes a step towards you, away from the gas station. “Do you want company or do you want me to go back inside and tell the others to hang back inside a while?”

“You’d do that?”

He laughs softly. “Have the last few minutes not shown you that I’d do pretty much anything for you, sunshine? And last night? The last thing I wanted was for you to ride with someone else other than me, but I could tell it’s what you wanted, so I didn’t fight you on it.”

“And what you said over the radio this morning?”

“I missed you and the way you always disagree with me. I just acted on it the wrong way.”

“Yeah,” you nod your head. “You were a real asshole.”

Tyler’s face breaks out into a grin. “Not gonna disagree with you on that one.”

You stare up at him for a moment, honestly surprised at how quickly things had changed between you. Only minutes ago, Tyler was mad at you, then he was mad at Xavier and now he was standing here, smiling at you like you were as bright as the sun. His nickname was fitting for you, you suppose.

“Will you just come and stay with me for a bit? Till whenever the others come out?” You ask, nodding your head back towards the car where you’d been sitting before.

Tyler nods. “I have one condition, though.”

“Name it.”

“You sit in my truck instead, and you come back and ride with me in it again.”

You can’t keep the smile off your face. “That’s two conditions, actually, T.”

“And you didn’t say no to either of them,” Tyler smiles. “Come on, sunshine.”

[glitterypinkconverse]

─ ⊹ ⊱ IN THE HEAT OF IT ALL

e-42!miles x fem!reader

summary after having an argument with miles, you get mad as to why he always brings up your plushies while you guys are arguing. so, you threw them all away.

request by @friedturtlewhispers ! i accidentally posted this without writing actual story, so sorry your request got deleted 😭

a/n this is a continuation of the 42!miles headcanon from these headcanons! i’m a sucker for angst so ofc i has to write this 🤷‍♀️

warnings angst to fluff, cursing

“Ma, you’re the one who sleeps with stuffed animals at night.”

You two have been fighting over God knows what for at least 30 minutes, and whenever he brought up the fact that you sleep with stuffed animals at night pisses you off. You scoffed, stuck your middle finger up at him, and went to his doorway.

“Fuck you, Miles.” That was all you said before you walked out of his bedroom, and out his apartment door.

New York at night was chilly, so as you left the building you silently cursed to yourself. You forgot your jacket again, as it was hot during the day but then it cooled down. Luckily, your apartment building was only a block away, so it wasn’t that bad of a walk.

His words still rang through your head. That was his only comeback nowadays ever since he found out. You thought he hated it, for how much he teased you about sleeping with the stuffed animals. But secretly, though he would never admit it, he found it cute that you do. It made him happy seeing you happy, although you weren’t feeling it right now.

You thought actually sleeping with them bothered him, so as your mind was overflowing with rage, you did the petty thing.

You threw them all away.

Well, not really. You just stuffed them all in a bag and put it in your closet. But, it felt like you did because your once overfilled bed was now empty, the only thing on it was your clothes, pillows, and obvious blankets.

Your phone was blowing from texts and calls from Miles. You looked over at it and rolled your eyes. You put your phone on do not disturb, charged it, and then got in bed. All you needed right now was some rest, so you closed your eyes and tried to fall asleep. Though, it was hard without at least one thing to hold.

Miles on the other hand, was freaking out. He was pacing around his room angrily, you guys never ended on bad terms. You would always make up, because he knew how important it was for you to have closure. He wanted to make this relationship work, and right now he felt like he was failing it.

“Pick up the phone, Y/N,” he mumbled, silently cursing everytime it went straight to voicemail. He groaned and left his room, saying a quick goodbye to his mom before leaving the apartment.

He walked, practically ran to your apartment where he barged in because you forgot to lock the door. Your parents were out on a work trip right now, so he reminded himself to scold you later on this. But for now, his only priority was to set things right and make it up to you.

He slowly opened your bedroom door, from the light being off he figured you were asleep. That was all until you turned around to look at the light that was entering your room, and groaned when you saw Miles standing in your doorway. “Fuck off.”

He scoffed and made his way towards you, “That’s no way to talk to me, now is it?” He joked, though you weren’t having it.

“What the hell are you doing here, Miles.” You turned away from him, so he couldn’t see the anger that was still looming on your face.

“Whatchu think I’m here for? I’m here to make it up to you. We’re not leaving on bad terms, and I swear by that.”

You didn’t respond, and that left Miles quiet. He observed the position you were in, and noticed your bed looked different.

“Ma, where’s all your stuffed animals?” He asked, concern in his voice. He shuffled around your bed, looking over you and looking at the end of your bed.

“Gone,” you mumbled. He paused in his tracks, looking over at you even though you couldn’t see him. Your back was facing the wall, so he immediately turned you around to face him.

“Fuck you mean gone?”

“I mean, gone, Miles. Like, they’re not here.” He was shocked, you loved those things more than anything. He looked around your room, for any sign of them.

None.

“I’ll be right back,” he mumbled before hurrying out of the room. You rolled your eyes and turned around in your bed again, feeling slightly bad that you lied to him.

However, Miles was going to the nearest store to get you something. He walked down the aisles of the store, searching for the perfect plushie. He grimaced at all of them, as they all looked unintentionally creepy. He decided on a pink teddy bear, as it looked the most tame and he knew how much you liked teddy bears. He went up to the register and paid for it, then rushed back to your apartment.

You were almost asleep when he barged in once again and sat on your bed. “Turn around.” When you didn’t, he turned you around himself and what you saw in his hands shocked you.

You sat up to face him, you didn’t expect him to buy you a teddy bear. You took it from his hands, admiring it slightly. “I’m sorry, Y/N. Y’know, I actually find it cute how you sleep with these.” You looked up at him and smiled, then fell into his arms.

“It’s alright, I guess. Thanks for the bear,” he hummed in response, to which you continued, “there’s a bag in my closet, do you think you can get it?” He pulled away slightly and raised an eyebrow at you, watching as you giggled against his chest.

He peeled away from you and walked to your closet, silently cursing when he saw the bag full of stuffed animals. “You’re full of shit, y’know that right?”

You laughed as he threw the bag at you, you throwing one of your pillows back at him in response. “You loooove me though.”

He walked back to your bed and put the pillow you threw at him back on the bed, and laid down with you. “You got one thing right,” he said as you adjusted in his arms.

“Oh, and also, don’t forget to lock your door. Can’t let anyone taking m’ girl away.”

“Go to sleep, Miles.”

TAGS ↣ @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx

[timmydraker]

During a patrol in Gotham one night, Red Robin comes across a strange sight.

A young woman stands over a crumpled body with a sling shot primed and ready, aimed a man with a rather large hand gun. It’s clear she’s protecting the woman who looks like she’s been hit over the head and had her bag nabbed, as it’s ripped and contents are spilled everywhere.

The girl sits shaking, she isn’t scared at all, standing strong with a shard of glass aimed at the man’s crotch.

Tim jumps down and disarms the man smoothly before turning to the young girl, who upon closer inspection seems to be around thirteen years old.

“Are you hurt?”

She shakes her head and stares at him for a moment with awe in his eyes before her eyes widen and she turns to the person behind her, “But she is! That guy was cornering her and I tried to help but he hit her and-“

“Alright, I understand. Would you like to help me get her to the ER a few blocks away?”

The girl nods with a determination Tim remembers seeing in Dick and Jason in their Robin days and he smiles.

He doesn’t ask her what her name is because side he knows he’ll follow up and find something to feel guilty about, but the girl seems to have her own plans.

She shows up a couple of days later, standing on a tall building with a cheap Robin outfit on.

Tim is confused before he drops down and she gives a big grin and mock salute, “How can I help?”

Tim smiled a little before shaking his head, “Taking the title of Robin, are you?”

She nods, now more bashful, “Well, I want to help people. I don’t want to fight exactly, but… well, sometimes you bats are too busy with the villains to notice the little guy and- bro to say you’re a bad hero-“

“You’re right, it’s okay. We can only do so much and sometimes preventing more damage being done saves more lives, but there will always be a cost.”

She smiles, bright orange, and impressively curly, hair getting in her eyes and sticking to the poor quality glue of her fake domino.

“I want to help. I… can help, please.”

Tim answers after a solid minute of silence, “What is your name?”

She frowns, “Aren’t I supposed to have a secret identity?”

He smiles in answer, “Yes, but I know what you look like and I can find out, I’m asking out of politeness.”

The girl looks like she could pout and Tim feels strangely old at the sight, even if he’s still got a few months before he can even legally drink.

“Carrie. Caroline to be specific.”

Tim smiles, “Well, Carrie, here’s the deal. I will meet you here or somewhere like here every night and until, and only until, you can land a hit on me will I agree to let you help.”

While Carrie doesn’t look pleased she nods, a clear sense of hope in her eyes even as she looks nervous.

She looses the first fight, and the second and third and fourth, but she gets better and better.

Tim doesn’t tell anyone about Carrie Kelly, nor does he tell her that he does end up doing a back ground check and finds two dead beat parents more focused on weed than their incredibly skilled daughter.

When she proves to be relentless in her desire to save lives he sends her to a teacher to help her stay hidden and safe. He’s not like Bruce, he doesn’t send her overseas to some dangerous people, but close by and to someone he trust to not hurt her nor tell anyone else about the strange young girl whose managed to give him a taste of his own medicine.

Selina Kyle is more than happy to take in the girl when she watches her sling shot fire crackers at muggers.

When Carrie comes back and meets Tim on a rooftop, she not only manages to hit him but knocks him off his feet.

Tim grins at her, pride filling his mind and making him understand Bruce just a little more.

But unlike Bruce, he isn’t throwing her into the fight at all.

Tim Drake is the one who pays for her school pills while her yippie parents refuse to work or spend money on her, and sends her real time footage of medical lectures in various collages across the country.

Carrie doesn’t become Robin, nor did she even wear that suit after the second night and he gave her a basic training outfit that properly covered her eyes and hair, but she does become something else.

She becomes Cardinal, the vigilante that swoops in to save civilians and provide the medical care that saves hundreds of people and allows the ambulances and hospitals to have a chance.

When she makes her debut the other bats worry about a new kid making bad choices, probably inspired by them, but Tim ignores it if only because he’s actually proud of her and trust her in a way he hasn’t trusted teammates in years.

After a year of this, a young girl asks for a meeting with Mister Tim Drake at his company and, purely so he wouldn’t have to do more pointless numbers, he lets her in after she passes the security check.

The girl who comes into his office is barely ten, cute little clips in her dark bob hair and a big book bag almost half her size behind her.

Tim recognised her instantly once he sees the bright yellow shoes she’s wearing.

This little girl, name Mia Mizoguchi, has been stalking him and Carrie for a few months now.

After he enrolled Carrie at Gotham Academy, the young girl nicknamed ‘Maps’ had been asking Carrie a lot of questions. Carrie had been good at avoiding incriminating answers, but had fallen for the younger girls clever trap as she casually spoke out infomation that could help with cases and Carrie delivered it back to Tim.

As soon as he realised that Maps had done exactly what he had done and figured out who Carrie was he was impressed. Because even if Carrie was new to the game, she had a skill for tricking people into looking away from her and had done well to stay low.

Maps had made the connection back to Tim, apparently.

Luckily, unlike Bruce, he wasn’t ignorant to their little stalker and actually knew her family from a few galas and charities. To be fair, Tim also wasn’t clouded by grief, but as he lets the girl explain how she totally doesn’t know who Red Robin is but if she did know who he was she would want him to know that a new drug trade route was actually being covered by a cotton candy company and she has over sixty pages worth of proof.

When he shows up to The Nest (named by Carrie) with Maps behind him, he finds Cardinal waiting with an excited gleam in her eyes.

Due to her being so young, Tim doesn’t allow Maps to go into the field until she’s the same age as both he and Carrie were, but she’s quick to show her worth taking over coms and doing an insanely detailed level of detective work that Tim can’t help but be a little jealous of.

Just like Carrie, who has been trying with Selina about only becoming Catgirl if Catwoman stops being a criminal for a few weeks now, he sends her to someone else for mentor ship.

Maps is a sweet girl, but she loves to talk and has a lot of friends who have most of the same interest, so he sends her to the one bat member he trust most.

Cassandra Cain immediately tells Tim that he has to adopt both of them and can’t quite understand why them both having living parents matters.

It’s Cass who gives Maps her vigilante name, Sparrow.

[7seas-of-ryy]

The Bet

Author’s Note: I had a long day at work and wanted to write something happy :)) I hope you like it!

Summary: Who will be able to get Azriel to laugh first?

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: none, let me know if I need to add any :)

“What’s so funny?” You mumbled as you crossed your arms.

You had asked Cassian and Rhys about the shadowsinger’s sense of humor. The pair had just given each other a look and howled with laughter.

“Az?? A sense of humor??” Cass choked out through his laughter.

“That’s a good one Y/N!” Rhys said, giving you a pat on the shoulder.

“Will you guys be serious!” You scolded the two males.

“Az doesn’t laugh at jokes.” Rhysand told you.

“Orrr maybe you two just aren’t funny?” You said with a smirk.

“What? And you think you’re so funny?” Rhys questioned.

“Definitely funnier than you two.” You told them.

“That is the most hurtful thing anyone has ever said to me.” Cassian stated, putting his hand on his chest.

“How about a bet?” Rhys smirked.

Cassian clapped his hands, always up for a challenge. A large grin grew on your face, already feeling confident even though you didn’t know the bet.

“We all get one shot to get Azriel to laugh. Whoever wins gets free drinks for a night at Rita’s.” Your High Lord told you and Cassian.

“I’m in!” Cass exclaimed.

“Oh you two are so going down.” You told them.

---

Azriel had been sitting at the table eating breakfast when Cass walked in. You and Rhys were discreetly watching from another room, looking to see if he could crack Az.

“Hey Az-” Cassian spoke before tripping over a chair and falling dramatically, hitting his head on the way down.

“You ok?” Az spoke and then took another bite without getting up from his spot.

“Are you serious?” Cass grumbled then got up and walked out. The spymaster didn’t even flinch.

“That was your master plan??” You asked him once he made it to you and Rhys.

“I thought he would laugh at my pain! He seems like he would find it funny!” Cass defended his choice.

You and Rhys began to shake with laughter.

“Don't worry, I thought it was funny.” Rhys told him with a smug look on his face.

Cass gave him a look and walked away grumbling.

---

Azriel, Cassian, Rhys, and you were all training together and it was Rhys’ turn to get Az to laugh. Cass threw a weak punch at him which missed horribly.

“Ha! What was that! That was worse than Y/N on a good day!!” Rhys stated, poking fun at both you and Cass.

A scowl grew on Azriel’s face, his brows furrowed watching his friend. You and Cass both stood there, equally offended.

“Why would you be rude to Y/N? She has done nothing to you and she’s a great fighter.” Az spoke.

Rhys’ eyebrows shot up, realizing that was the wrong route to take to get him to break. A smirk grew on your face when you realized they both blew their chances and you were the most likely to win.

“Hey! Why did you stick up for her and not me?” Cass complained.

“Because that punch was awful. He should have compared you to a child with no training, not Y/N, who could easily beat you in a fight.” He told his brother.

A giggle left your lips and Az gave you a nod and a smile.

---

“Alright lets see what you got.” Rhys told you.

Azriel was sitting in the library, reading a book when you approached him.

“Hey Az! Whatcha reading?” You asked.

“A book on some rare magic.” He told you in a gentle tone, looking up at you with soft eyes.

“That sounds interesting! I’m actually reading a book on anti-gravity, and it’s impossible to put down!” You told him with emphasis on the pun.

He watched you for a moment, a smile growing on his face. Then you heard the most beautiful sound, Azriel’s laughter. You felt pride well up inside you.

“That’s a good one, very funny.” He told you and you gave him one of your big smiles.

After a little bit more conversation, you left and went over to where Rhys and Cass had been watching.

“A pun?! Really?” Cass said, disbelief evident in his voice.

Rhys stayed quiet while his brother continued to complain.

“That’s how it's done boys. Looks like I’ll be having a fun, free night out at Rita’s!” You spoke and went back into the library to sit with Az.

“How did a pun out of all things-” Cass started but Rhys elbowed him in the ribs to shut him up.

“Look at him. It wasn’t the pun... it’s her.” He spoke.

The two of them watched as you sat next to Azriel, asking if you could join him and read your book by him. He looked at you with nothing but pure adoration as he nodded his head yes.

“He’s clearly in love with her.” Rhys added.

The two of them watched as Az turned his head back to his book and you looked at him with just as much love and affection.

“That’s cheating! We need a new bet.” Cass whined.

Rhys just shook his head at him. He didn’t care that he lost the bet, he was just happy to see his brother finally love someone who loved him right back.

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[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.9 words you've been wanting to hear

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot, marijuana use, sexism, sexual harassment (verbal only)

ᰔ chapter. 9/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 15.6k (WHY DO THEY KEEP GETTING LONGER)

a/n. HELLO MY DEAR KICKOFF READERS IVE MISSED YOU ALL SO MUCH i am soooo sorry for the wait on this one. this chapter felt very vulnerable to write for some reason lmfao, but i really hope it was worth the wait :''') see you at the bottom!! if there are typos or some things don't make sense i'm so sorry i literally gave up on proofreading this i just ended up raw-doggin it and then posting it

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☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

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an additional author's note. hellooo ellie here. there are some additional warnings/tags for this chapter, i added them to the tags above, so if you know you have any sort of triggers, please refer to them before reading! but if you don't have any and don't want to be spoiled ab anything then you can keep reading lol. thank youu <33

--

The restaurant address that Kai sent you was just a ten minute taxi ride away, save for the five minutes you spent trying to evasively maneuver through the hotel lobby in order to avoid running into people you’re not too keen on seeing right now, a list that stacks up to just one person at this moment.

It’s a Korean barbecue place, it’s been ages since you’ve been to one, probably since they’re way too expensive for any sort of outing you could afford these days, but the crisp sizzling sounds of the grills and the savory air has your mouth watering in a way that makes you indifferent to the cost. Anything to get this churning feeling out of your stomach. 

It’s instantly brought to your attention that Hana’s tipsy off of Soju because she’s slid out of the booth the second you emerge to the tablestide, and she’s onto her feet to pull you into a hug. You hug her back.

“I’m ssssoooooooo glad you’re—hic—here,” she says, voice sounding loud near your ear, but her embrace is surprisingly calming to you.

Her face appears flushed when you pull away, and you give her a smile and a kind hold of her elbow. “I’m happy to be here, sorry for coming late, I just decided I wanted to have dinner with you all.”

Minato is pulling on Hana’s arm to get her to sit down, which she finally agrees to, and you glance to the left side of the table where Kai sat, meticulously turning over pieces of meat on the grill. His eyes are on you, and the seat next to him is empty.

“You look nice,” he says, eyes falling to your lap under the table once you’ve taken a seat next to him.

Your eyes fall to your lap as well. “Oh. Thanks. I wasn’t really trying to look any sort of way, though.” Just faded jeans with a few rips & holes you made yourself, way back in high school when that sort of thing was trendy.

“I know,” he says, smirk heard perfectly through his words, “I like that.”

You ignore him, a fleeting thought passing through your head of how annoyingly forward men are to women they’ve met within a day, just something you’ve noticed recently, and then you’re accepting the glass of Soju that Minato’s poured for you. Quick to tip it back, you feel a burn on your tongue that’s just enough to distract.

“Today’s game was pretty interesting,” Minato speaks up, picking up a few pieces off the grill with his chop sticks and placing them on Hana’s plate first before taking some for himself. You find the gesture sweet. “The first half was intense.”

Hana nods enthusiastically, elbows rested on the tabletop as she waves her hands around in the air. “Uh huh, uh huh, the boys kicked the ball like whoosh. Goes all over the place! Can’t get a—hic—can’t get a single shot. No, I mean me, I can’t get a camera shot. Not them, they can get the shots of goals. The goals of shots? Huh.”

“Alright, you’ve had enough,” Minato grumbles as he drags the glass of Soju that she was nursing away from her. 

Kai lets out a laugh beside you, his knee bumping against yours under the table. “I’ve watched so many of these soccer games for this job, and I’ve still got no damn clue what the rules are.”

You blink down at your empty plate for a second before grabbing the silver chopsticks laid neatly on your napkin, and taking some food from the center of the table. “Really? I’ve only been to a couple, and I feel like I get the gist of it.” Maybe it’s because you had a personal interest, though.

Kai lets out a low whistle next to you. “Okay, you’re a smartass then.”

You give him a sidewards glance. “Maybe you’re just dumb?” 

Your own words startle you a bit. Minato lets a laugh out, but under his breath, while Hana does absolutely nothing to conceal hers. Kai’s eyes just widen. You bite down on a carrot stick.

“Hey, hey, hey, y/n,” Hana chirps, tapping at your wrist, “do you know any of the soccer players? Utahime said you doooo.”

You swallow slowly to buy yourself time, but give a preliminary shake of your head before answering, “no, not really.” You catch a whiff of the cologne on your wrist when you lift your glass to your lips.

“Oh,” she sulks her shoulders and then sinks down into the booth again, her head falling onto Minato’s shoulder. The man stiffens a bit and then there’s a content smile playing at his lips. A hint of a smile develops on your face too at the sight when you put two and two together. What an adorable little crush. It makes you feel sick.

Kai pours you some more Soju the second you drink down the last of it in your glass, and you nod to him as a thanks. “Pretty sure most of my photos from the first half are fucked,” he says, dragging the opening of the bottle against the rim of your glass before pulling it away, “didn’t realize until way later that my aperture was way off.”

You bring the glass to your lips, inhaling before taking a sip. You’re about to speak up about that when Minato beats you to it.

“Are you serious?” he asks, disappointed, like they’re suddenly talking business now. “I better see some good shots. Your side was where most of the action took place. Like that through-pass, tight behind the defensive line, from Nanami Kento to Gojo Satoru before he sunk it a couple mins before the half ended.”

You choke a little on your Soju at the mention of Gojo’s name, and then all three of them are looking at you. You wave a hand in front of your face. “Sorry.” 

Kai grumbles something under his breath and then stuffs a piece of pork belly into his mouth. “Yeah, whatever, man. I’m pretty sure I got some good ones. Don’t worry.”

Dinner goes on like that, where you count the number of times Kai thinks that someone saying something funny across the table is an excuse to press his thigh against yours, but at least the cute way that Hana and Minato seem to inch closer to one another all night is enough to put you at some sort of bitter ease. But that unsettling feeling in your stomach from a couple of hours ago still lingers.

The four of you stand outside the restaurant, heels rocking back and forth in the cold as you all take up the last chance to debrief the day, and then Minato’s glancing at his watch.

“Alright, it’s probably time to head back. We can all share a ride to the hotel, it’s cheaper that way,” Minato says. Hana’s clinging to his sleeve.

“Oh, uh, I was going to stay here. There’s a cool camera shop around the corner. I was gonna check it out,” Kai says, pointing over his shoulder before glancing at you. “Wanna come? I saw they’ve got used film cameras.”

You twiddle with the hotel key card in your pocket. It’s cheap plastic, could break easily with just the right amount of pressure. Like your resolve right now. “Sure.”

He smiles at you.

“Alright, well I need to get this one back to her room,” Minato says with a sigh, pointing to Hana, “so I’ll see you all at the next game?”

You and Kai nod at him and then watch as he walks away with Hana on his arm towards the curb, pulling his phone out to call for a ride.

“Where’s this camera shop at?” you ask Kai once the silence between the two of you stretches out a little too long. 

“It really is just around the corner,” he says, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket. He starts walking down the row of miscellaneous shops and establishments under dim street lighting, and you follow after him before the two of you circle to the adjacent end. A tiny shop in the distance catches your eye. The LED sign above the storefront was blinking sporadically, and read 17th St Camera & Rentals, except half the letters were extinct of any light. Next to it was a 24/7 liquor store.

It’s only when you walk right up to it that you realize the sign dangling behind the glass door that says closed.

“Oh. Bummer,” Kai comments in a flat tone. “I swear it was open before I got to the restaurant.”

You sigh, pulling your phone out to glance at the time. “Yeah, at 8pm? It’s past 10 now.”

He looks at you and taps the camera case still hung at his neck. “That’s fine. I’ve still got a camera to show you, anyways.”

You blink your eyes at him, suddenly feeling a bit exhausted and then glance over your shoulder at the curb of the street to see if Minato & Hana were still there waiting for a ride. You don’t see them anymore. 

A distraction. Wasn’t that what you wanted?

“Yeah, show me.”

Kai seems to know the area better than you, since he walks down the haphazardly lain sheets of concrete across the ground with more confidence than a tourist would. The thought occurs to you that maybe the newsletter photographers have eaten here before during their time in Kyoto.

“What made you start working with the newsletter?” you ask, glancing at him as the two of you walk down further, into what seems like a neighborhood.

He shrugs. “First job I could find out of college. I had a lot of freelance experience, so I’m assuming that’s why they hired me.” He nudges your arm with his elbow. “What about you?”

“I’ve known Utahime for a while. She was impressed with my work.”

“Ahh, connections,” he muses, “smart. That’ll get you far as an artist.”

He suddenly stops walking and peers off to the right, into a darkness that you can’t really make anything out of until you’ve spent a few seconds staring too. He walks in that direction, the loud echoing stomps of his boots on concrete no longer audible once he crosses the threshold onto grass, and you follow behind to what seems like a deserted children’s park. You wish there were more trees in the city. There are a lot here in the countryside, and it makes you homesick for something you’re not even sure of.

A gust of wind brushes through, rattling the set of swings hung on rusty chains. The wood chips underneath your feet feel stale, with no snap to them at all as you follow Kai through the playhouses set up in connected fashion. There are two picnic benches, one looks like it’s been freshly painted with faux effort to improve its image in the line of sight of the street, while the other has red paint peeled back to reveal bronze underneath the moonlight, neglected and tucked behind a few trees. The latter is what he chooses.

He slides into the bench, and he shakes his head when he sees you try to take a seat on the other side before patting at the seat beside him. “It’d be easier for you to take a look at my side.”

He has a point, so you sit next to him instead. Although at this point in the night, you were feigning interest. He zips his camera bag open and you take a better look at the lens. There’s no way it was as cheap as he told you it was.

“There’s no way this was as cheap as you told me it was,” you say.

He laughs, pulling the camera out and handing it to you. “Yeah, maybe the guy cut me a deal since I’ve bought from him before.”

You’re smart enough to put the strap around your neck, even though you’re only holding it a few inches above the table, because a camera like this deserves the care and respect. The material is minimalist and sleek, and it’s heavy in your hands. You click the shutter button, screen coming to life with a few mechanic chirps. “Woah. Is it LCD or OLED?”

“LCD.”

“That’s nice,” you say, “paying for the OLED just seems silly to me.”

“I concur, Canon. Color accuracy is king.”

He shuffles to pull something out of his pocket while you continue to inspect the camera in your hands, and you see him fidget with said thing over the table in the corner of your eye. The flick of something and the light of something makes you turn your head to face him, and he’s pinching the end of a joint to his mouth, lighting the other end.

He gives you a glance when you stare for too long, inhaling from it before pulling it from his mouth. “What?” You can see the smoke leave his mouth in the chill of the air.

“Is that why you chose the secluded bench?”

“I did? Didn’t even notice.”

You blink at him, and he places his elbow on the table to lean closer to you. 

“Do you mind it?” he asks.

“No, not really.”

“Wanna smoke with me?” Two fingers pinching the origin of smoke tilt towards you. “This is my good weed, though, so, I charge by the drag.”

“That’s ridiculous, and no thanks. It doesn’t suit me.”

He lets out a laugh, releasing whatever tension he was building in your space, and the smell of weed is nauseating, but at least it's a new sensation to you.

“You’ve gotta be the only film major on the planet that doesn’t smoke weed. How do you manage?” he asks, the orange flicker of his joint being the only color you can distinctly see under the similarly flickering street lights. 

Your finger traces the rim of the camera lens and is careful to not smudge the glass. “I think I manage just fine.”

“Yeah. With delusion,” he says, coughing, scattering smoke into the air this time instead of a clean blow.

You turn a bit in your seat to face him more, placing the camera down. “You’re extremely blunt.”

His eyebrow raises in amusement and you close your eyes with annoyance at the pun. You brush it off.

“I mean, seriously, I get you’re probably just looking out for me, I guess. I appreciate that. But do you really think my dreams of becoming a filmmaker are that far-fetched?” you ask. There’s a crack to your voice at the end that you didn’t like.

He sighs, setting his wrist down on the table. There’s a long pause where he thinks about what to say. Probably the most you’ve seen him consider what words leave his mouth next. “I was in the same shoes as you, y/n. A couple years ago. I, too, had big dreams of making movies. I was going to apply to film grad school as well, although you’re shooting higher than I was at the time. There’s no way I would’ve gotten into UTokyo’s.” He tilts his head to the side a few times while looking straight off ahead. “I sent scripts in everywhere. To every fucking production company, creative agency, you name it. Never got a callback, not even once. While all my fellow grads were landing decent, respectable jobs.” He brings the joint to his mouth again, but he doesn’t inhale, just bitterly bites it. “I could’ve went on like that, but,” his brow furrows, “I’ve seen my peers torture themselves for years for those dreams of theirs. I swore I wouldn’t be one of them. Because they’re all delusional fucks.” He finally glances at you. “Are you one, too?”

Your shoulders drop a little and your lips purse. “I don’t know yet. It’s too early to say.” 

“It’s never too early to say, if the outcome is all the same,” he tells you. 

You consider his words for a moment. It’s the easy way out. You should consider yourself lucky. Everyone wants a reason, a sign, to turn away from the one thing they’re scared to think about. And here he was, giving that to you on a silver platter.

But if what you wanted was really all that fragile, then it means there’s nothing to show for any of it. For all the effort it took you to get here, and all the effort you’re still willing to give. 

“I’ll keep going until I fail,” you say, “or until I succeed.” It’s not really something you say for him, but for yourself.

He juts his bottom lip out and raises his eyebrows, slowly nodding his head, like he’s impressed by you. But his posture remains lax. “I mean, you’re working this job. You’ve got some sort of plan, at least. It’s not like I’m your parent to tell you what to do and what not to do.” He finally takes another drag, eyebrows pinching together at the same time his fingers pinch close to the burn of his joint to pull it away. “What’s that one saying? You can take a horse to the water, but you can’t make it drink.”

“Wow. You don’t sound a day older than sixty-five.”

He smirks at you. “You’ve got a lot of attitude, Canon. Where does it come from?”

You sink a little in your seat, turning away from him to look down at your hands that were still messing with the features of his camera. “My annoying feelings lately.”

“Feelings about what?”

You consider telling the truth. But you don’t. “My car is in repair and I’m not sure I can afford to pay for the bill, since things keep coming up with it.” It was the thing at the top of your mind at the moment though, for some reason, so partially truthful.

He laughs. “Yeah, cars have a way of doing that when you’re finally getting caught up on bills.”

“At what point does spontaneously picking up random, obscure jobs go from omg I’m so excited to have this opportunity to I just need the money?” you ask.

“You mean you’re not already at that point yet?” he says with a scoff. “Soon, then.”

You sigh.

“Y’know I used to work at this lousy cinema a few miles away from Central,” he tells you, hand tapping the table with a rhythm that makes no sense. “Busted my ass working minimum wage on night shifts because I thought I’d catch a big break in conversation with a director, as if Martin Fucking Scorcese would choose to host his opening night at a random Edwards in Tokyo.” His tapping on the table stops. “Tell me that isn’t pathetic as hell.”

“That’s pathetic as hell.”

“The things you’ll do for money,” he says with a sigh. He sounds detached, like it’s really just a message for you.

You lick your lips, skin feeling dry from the wind that occasionally brushes by, and when you glance at Kai again, there’s a grit to his jaw.

“Should’ve been born as one of those damn college athletes,” he grumbles, sucking in fast through the joint that was close to withering away. “Those fuckers don’t pay tuition.”

The harsh colors of the soccer team’s color-coded practice schedule on your phone are visible when you blink, as well as the exhaustion under Gojo’s eyes in the warm lighting of the hotel lobby earlier tonight. “They work hard.”

He looks at you. “I work hard, too.”

Your shoulders tense. “I’m sure.”

“You work hard as well.” Just to include you.

“Yeah.”

“I mean, you can’t tell me that it’s fair.”

Your mind wanders to some of the people you’ve met on that team, who have been nice to you. You think of Gojo, and the memory of him makes you wish you were with him right now. Despite everything.

“I guess it’s not fair,” is all you say, a tactic to diffuse the conversation, one that you’ve had to use twice with him today. The sound of the swing chains clinking together from the wind in the distance runs a chill down your spine.

You feel heavy in your chest, and you glance at the joint pinched in between Kai’s fingers. He’s not keeping an eye on it, so it’s easy to steal, and you bring it to your lips before sucking in. You instantly let out a few coughs. He’s looking at you with surprise. And you’re still in desperate need of that distraction you’ve been craving.

“How long does it take for it to kick in?” you ask, coughing again and pressing a hand to your chest.

“Super long when you can barely stomach a single drag.”

You try again. He watches you. You swear you feel a buzz this time, and you hand the joint back to him. You feel like you’re having an out-of-body experience.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Good,” you tell him, “really good.”

“That’s gotta be placebo, Canon.”

“No, really,” you sigh it. Even if it was, maybe your mind was just blessing you with a single moment of reprieve. “I feel…really good,” you say with your head in a haze. “Best I’ve…” you don’t know why you have to blink back tears, “best I’ve felt this whole week.”

Kai’s silent next to you. You look over at him, and he’s got a scrutinizing expression on his face. His eyes are glazed. “You seeing anyone right now, Canon?”

It’s the savory question you know has been on the tip of his tongue. Ignorantly asked, as if you would’ve been sitting here with him right now in the dead of night if the answer was yes. 

“No.”

He’s leaning towards you, and you’re dazed and also sleepy. His face is close now, there’s an urge to giggle, which means there’s no way this is all just placebo, and when his lips dip towards yours, you’re conscious enough to push him away by a weakly fisted hand pressed to his collarbone.

“Oh. I. Um,” you stutter.

“What?” he asks, eyebrow raised, still close to you.

“No. No thanks.” Because it felt wrong. 

He fully pulls away from you, and runs a hand through his hair, a deep sigh leaving him. “Alright.”

You’re breathing faster now, surroundings feeling vague, like you’re in sweltering heat but the air only bites cold.

You stand up suddenly. “I…I want to go back.”

“Go back where?”

“To the hotel. To my room.” You pause. “I mean, by myself. Not with you. We can share a ride, though.”

He stands up too, hands reaching for you, gripping the straps of his camera still hung around your neck and he pulls it off to place it back into the case. You feel like you’ve lost favor with him somehow. “Okay. Sure.” 

“But not with you.” You felt the need to clarify again.

“I get it, Canon. It’s fine.”

—

“Maybe you just need to fuck him aggressively without mercy.”

“I beg your finest pardon?”

You’re sitting in a booth inside this streetside KFC with Mina sitting across the table, waving a fry around in the air, and with Nobara next to you as she tries to open a packet of ketchup with her teeth. The hangout the three of you have been hyping up all week, just to be sat in the same place you always go to. You were about to take a bite out of your sandwich, but you set it back down on your tray.

Mina points the fry at you and shrugs. “I’m saying. Maybe you’re having such a hard time getting over Gojo because you got so close to fucking him in that bathroom, but you didn’t, and now you’re in, like, this constant state of edging.” She bites down on the fry. “The clit knows what the heart doesn’t.”

“Your theories never fail to amaze me,” you mumble, sinking further into the booth. 

“Perhaps it’ll take the edge off.” Mina sucks through the straw of her Diet coke. Nobara finally succeeds in opening her packet of ketchup.

“I doubt it. Besides, I technically already gave him an invitation to,” you say, fingers rubbing at your eye with a swipe as you wince from the memory, “and he rejected me, so, still swimming in the self hatred from that one.”

Mina hums. “There’s no way he’s not foaming at the mouth for it, y/n. Men never let a meal they were craving go unfinished,” she states, dramatically stabbing a chicken nugget with a fork.

“What kind of pigs do you guys associate yourselves with?” Nobara asks. She’s a lesbian, by the way.

“I raise another question. Why are we talking about this in a public restaurant?” you offer.

“Listen, babes,” Mina continues, like your words fall on deaf ears because she’s got some point to make, “it’ll either poof. Make your feelings go away like the drop of a hat because you find out he’s a bad lay. Or it’ll be so good that you realize you’re never getting over him and you’ll be thinking of his dick instead of your husband’s on your wedding night.”

“We’re. In. A. Public. Restaurant.”

Mina steals a biscuit from your tray. “If it ends up being the first outcome, then the whole thing was my idea. If it’s the second…then just know that Nobara has steered you wrong.”

“Why the hell do you have to drag me into this?” Nobara asks.

You’re about to take a bite from your sandwich again when you’re interrupted by the buzzing of your phone in your purse. You pull it out and glance at the caller ID, then let out a sigh.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” you mumble, slipping out of the booth and towards the restaurant’s exit, pushing the tense door open with a gust of fresh air brushed through you.

“Hello?” It’s the car repair man. “Really? I thought you said it was fixed.” Apparently something else came up. “Okay…how much longer will it be in repair?” Much longer than you had thought. “And how much will it cost?” Much more expensive than you had thought. “I don’t know what to say. I mean, really, I feel as though every time I’m on the line with you all, I have to wait longer to get my car back, and the bill just racks up higher.” They’re trying their best. “I know. Is it necessary to fix in order to drive, though?” State laws require it. “Okay…thanks for the update.” And then you hang up without another word, and with all the frustration in the world.

You head back inside and grumble about your car woes to Mina and Nobara, who try their best to respond with interest.

“Why can’t your insurance cover it?” Mina asks.

“Apparently they can’t claim it’s because of those rocks I drove over,” you sigh, “since it looks like it’s been a problem for longer than that.”

“Can you afford it?” Nobara asks.

“Not really,” you say. “I’ll just have to postpone having my car for a bit.”

You sigh with a glance out the window of this fine dining establishment, into the blue skies just beyond, head drowning out the voices of Mina and Nobara as they continue to grill you about all sorts of questions that you don’t have the energy to answer right now. You had another student loan payment to make once you got home today, and just the thought of it makes your heart drop a little. And you realize you just can’t afford to be picky about your financial situation anymore.

—

“Thanks for helping me out with this,” you say, footsteps over familiar grassy hills as you head towards the UTokyo’s practice field, your digital Canon EOS hanging from your neck. 

“Sure,” Kai says as he keeps pace next to you, “why the sudden mission, though?”

You’re gazing off straight ahead, a nervous pit in your stomach since it’s been a while since you’ve walked across this landscape towards the field. 

“I just feel like I need to diversify my income somehow,” you sigh, the buzzwords leaving a bitter taste in your mouth as you say them but it was the reality of your situation, “to make ends meet. When you mentioned freelance work during our conversation last week, it made me think it’s time for me to pick that up too.”

Kai hums. “Yeah, it’s a good plan. I’ll try to show you what I know.”

Once you’ve made it to the top of that hill, the one that oversees the field, your eyes instantly scan the field for familiar silhouettes, and your breath catches in your throat when you spot Gojo passively kicking a ball back and forth between one of his teammates for warm-ups.

It’s the second time you’ve seen him since that argument the two of you had in the hotel lobby, the first being at the post-game conference in which you did everything in your power to swiftly avoid him, and you plan on keeping that up. There’s also an urge to run away, but you’re starting to realize that’s not much of an option anymore.

“Honestly, you don’t really need to worry too much about shutter speed with freelance like you do for shooting sports,” Kai is mumbling next to you as he messes with the settings on his camera, the two of you making your way down the hill towards the field, and you’re not really listening because your eyes are on Gojo, who’s yelling something across the field to his teammates with a look of concentration on his face.

“Uh huh, I see,” you say. You see Kai glance at you in his periphery.

“You again!” you hear a familiar harsh voice call out, and you turn on your heel to face Coach Yaga who’s standing a few feet away in his custom UTokyo tracksuit with his arms crossed against his chest. “Why are you on my field?”

You hold your breath for a second. “Hi, Coach Yaga, so sorry, but I’m just here to take some more photos.”

He lets out one of his hmphs, unrelenting. “You’re a distraction. Get off my field.”

“D-Distraction?”

“Coach!” Suddenly, Geto’s in your line of sight as he emerges with a light jog up to your side. “You should really be nicer to our photographers, they give us a lot of publicity for our games. And publicity means funding.”

Coach Yaga narrows his eyes. “I need all my players focused right now. Even during practice.” He gives you a disapproving glance and you’re still confused, but also weirdly angered.

“Excuse me, Coach Yaga, but last time I checked, this field is technically open for all students. And I’m a student,” you say to him, crossing your arms across your chest now. “So, I can be here if I want.”

You have no idea if that’s true at all, but sometimes you’ve just gotta fake it ‘til you make it.

Coach Yaga grumbles something and then waves his hands in the air. “Fine! I’ve no bandwidth to argue about this anymore! Just don’t distract my players.”

You’re shocked that it worked, and Geto nudges you with an elbow to correct your expression so that Coach Yaga doesn’t catch on to the bullshit you just spewed. 

“Are you here to take some photos?” Geto asks, facing you. He’s got his hands on his hips, breathing slightly fast, some of his hair falling onto his forehead. 

“Yeah, I am, just for practice though. I’m here with—” you glance at Kai, who’s standing with his fists shoved into his pockets, “Kai. He’s also with the newsletter.”

There’s a moment where Geto studies the two of you for a second before speaking. “I know,” he says, extending his hand out for Kai to shake, which he does, “I think I’ve seen you around. Not sure if we’ve formally met, but it’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, likewise.” Kai’s hand is then shoved back into his pocket.

You feel awkward suddenly, and then quickly say something to Geto about how he should probably get back to practice, which he agrees to, and then you’re standing at the chalk sideline with Kai as he shows you the ins and outs about digital photography.

“Have you tried shooting in burst mode?” he asks, switching the feature on your camera and then handing it back to you. You sling the strap around your neck.

“Hm…” you start, pointing your camera across the expanse of the field to multiple areas. The trees off into the distance, the goal posts, Coach Yaga’s yapping Pomeranian. “Not really…” The grass beneath your feet, the sky above your head, and then blurrily focused before settling on Gojo who stood in the distance straight ahead.

You see through your viewfinder that he’s caught sight of you too, a look of surprise on his face seen only by the level of zoom, and you glance up from the screen to make eye contact with him in reality. He’s fully staring at you, and you can barely see the way his expression relaxes from that one of athletic concentration to something wistful and strange that you’ve had a hard time reading lately.

“Canon? Are you even listening?”

“Huh?” you snap out of it and look at Kai. “Sorry. Could you repeat that?” You quickly glance toward Gojo again, and his line of sight points towards Kai now.

“I was asking if you’ve tried panning before,” he says, reaching for your camera, pulling it towards him, but the strap around your neck means you’re pulled closer to him too. 

“Satoru!” Coach Yaga yells in the distance. “Eyes on the ball!” 

“Just got to set your camera to manual mode first,” Kai mutters, confusion in his voice. “Where the fuck is it?” He’s turning your camera in his hands, which only has you stumbling with another small step towards him, your chest pressed flush to his arm, and he looks down at you for a brief second with a smirk on his face.

You hear the sound of a ball being kicked on the field, followed by the shout of one of the players.

“Ah, here, found it,” Kai says, handing your camera back to you, and just as you’re about to say thanks and you hold your camera up, you’re hit straight in the face by a flying object and fall backwards onto the grass with a painful thud.

What the fuck?

Where are you?

Who are you?

Okay, that’s dramatic, it wasn’t that bad.

There’s shouting in the distance as you hold your head with a groan, eyes shut tight with images of your life flashing behind your eyelids, and when you open your eyes again from where you’re sat up on the grass, you’re surrounded by soccer players.

Gojo’s suddenly in your line of sight, knelt down beside you and he’s holding your shoulders, trying to get you to look at him but you’re still blinking away the stars you’re seeing. “Fuck, y/n, are you okay?” he asks, and you register the concern on his face.

“Dude,” one of his teammates kicks the heel of his cleat, “where the fuck were you looking? It was clear as day I was tryna pass to you.”

Gojo grumbles something to him, his brow furrowed, and he’s lowering his head to try to make eye-level contact with you but you’re still holding your head with a wince.

“Oh shit,” Kai comments, “she’s bleeding.”

You pull your hand from your face to glance down at the wetness that you feel, and bright red color stains the tips of your fingers.

The next thing you register is Gojo picking you up off the hard grassy ground into his arms, and starts carrying you away down the field.

“W-What the hell are you doing?” you ask, his pacing across the grass is fast and you have to wrap your arms around his neck to keep from getting dizzy.

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he says, voice strained in his throat, and you’ve never seen him look so worried before. 

“The hospital?! Please don’t, I don’t have health insurance right now.” His face is so close and you’re distracted from the pain of your headache.

“You’re bleeding on the face, I’m taking you whether you like it or not,” he grumbles.

You dig your nails into his shoulder through the nylon of his shirt, and he hisses from the pain before stopping in his tracks. “I don’t need to go to the hospital, Satoru, I just need a fucking bandaid.”

“You could have a concussion.”

“A concussion?!” You kick your feet for him to let you down but his grip on you only tightens. “You’re being ridiculous. Let me go, or I’ll bite you.”

He scoffs at that and continues walking forward. “You’re gonna bite me? That’s the most threatening thing you could come up with?”

“I’m being so dead serious, Gojo Satoru. No hospital.”

He grumbles something under his breath at your use of his full government name, and then says “fine” but he’s still walking down the grass until his cleats begin to tap on concrete, and then on what sounds like tile as he carries you into a building a few yards from the field.

He seats you on a cold counter, your hand gripping the faucet of a sink, and you finally take a comprehensive look at your surroundings. light blue, faint scent of chlorine in the air

“Is this…a locker room? The men's locker room?”

He sighs, bending his knees a bit to look at your face closely. You flinch when his hand reaches out, and he pauses, but you relax slightly and then he rubs his thumb over your cheek. You feel the smear of a droplet of blood. “Yes. I need running water.” He turns the faucet of the sink on to run his thumb under.

“For what?” you ask. His thumb is running over your cheek again.

“To take care of this cut.” He disappears behind a tile wall for a moment. You can hear metal clanking, probably of a locker opening and closing, and he re-emerges with a first-aid kit.

You slide your butt across the counter to the edge, about to hop off and make a run for it when he grabs your hips and puts you back into place. “Don’t even think about it,” he grumbles. He leans forward, grips you strongly, and you see that he’s still breathing heavily from practice, strands of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, and you can practically taste the salt on his neck. 

You press your shin to the front of his thigh, desperate to put some space between the two of you. “I don’t wanna be in here. Men are scary.”

“Well I can’t take you into the women’s locker room,” he says, ripping the packet of an antiseptic wipe open with his teeth, “I’d get registered as a sex offender.”

You attempt at an escape again, and he’s quick to get his hands on you to stop it.

“Quit manhandling me, or I’ll scream,” you threaten through gritted teeth, because you’re still mad at him. For everything.

“Go ahead,” he says, using his knee to spread your legs apart, then finds a place to stand between your thighs to get closer to you. “I’ve got a lot of ways I could shut you up.”

You blink at him, breath catching in your throat, and the expression on his face tells you he’s not interested in dealing with your stubbornness anymore.

“Just hold still,” he grumbles, placing the packet down on your thigh and then stepping off to the side to wash his hands under the sink.

“What exactly happened?” you ask, watching him dry his hands off with a few paper towels. One moment, Kai was trying to explain good digital photography to you, and the next you were dizzy from being knocked back onto the ground.

“You got hit by a soccer ball.”

“I know, but how?” You remember your camera hit your face from the impact too, and now you’re worried about it.

“I…wasn’t paying attention when my teammate passed it,” he admits with a sigh, finding his place in front of you again, the knuckles of his clean hand brushing across your cheek, caressing. Your expression softens slightly. He uses a hand spread across the small of your back to push you forward to him, then he gently passes the wipe over your wound.

“Oh okay so, you failed to protect me from a flying soccer ball.” 

He pulls his hand from you to read the lettering on the back of the packet. “I’m patching you up now, aren’t I?” he says, annoyed. “…oh fuck, I was supposed to go in with water first.”

“So glad to be in such good hands right now.” 

He gives you a pointed look, but you ignore it and turn your torso to see your reflection in the mirror for the first time. You had a small wound on your cheek, right over the bone, with some bleeding and it’s wider than it is deep. But when you look at Gojo again, who’s putting some ointment onto a Q-tip now, the look of guilt and worry on his face makes you feel satisfied for some reason, and you wanted to make it worse.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, brow furrowed, applying the cold gel to your cheek.

“Mhm. A lot.” Not really, no.

“Fuck. I’m sorry,” he sighs, head dipping towards you slightly to get a better look, “can you feel this?”

“Ahh, yeah. Ouch. So much.” Barely.

His other hand is placed flat on the counter next to where you’re sitting, and you allow it when his thumb starts to run soothing circles over your hip.

“Hmm…” you start, wide eyes looking up at him as he seems to lean closer and closer to you with every word that leaves your lips, “I really wonder if it’ll leave a scar.”

He looks tortured. His hand that was maneuvering the Q-tip in his hands drops to the counter now, and he brings his other one to your face, cupping your cheek. His eyes dart from the wound, thumb pressing at the plush of your cheek, and this time, it hurts a little so you wince. His expression is tense, some sort of inner turmoil you could read across his forehead, and then his jaw hardens.

“Who was that guy you were talking to earlier?”

You blink a few, then tilt your head slightly. You feel like you’re on a game show, where there’s four options and only one right answer. New boytoy, gay best friend, fuck buddy, or— “He’s my coworker.”

“That’s it?”

“Mhm.”

“Has he tried anything funny with you?” 

You almost roll your eyes. “No, dad, he hasn’t.”

“Woah. Say that again but make it daddy.”

“Hey just a quick question for you. Where do you get the audacity?”

His bent index finger finds a place under your chin, tilting your head up so you’re forced to look at him. “It’s your fault, really. I can’t help it sometimes,” he says, voice lower now. You’re squirming a little, wanting to push him away but his lips get close to your cheek, brushing near your wound, like he wants to make it all better somehow. “I really am sorry,” he whispers, near your ear. There’s a whimper you have to stifle in your throat. He pulls aways just enough to where he can look into your eyes. “A cut…” he starts, thumb now passing over your bottom lip, “on your pretty face.” He sighs. You shouldn’t, but when he prods, you tuck his thumb under your front teeth and your tongue presses slightly against the padded skin of it. He looks like he’s being driven to insanity, and his other hand has no shame at all in pulling you towards him, to seat you at the edge of the counter, and you miss the texture of his thumb on your tongue when he pulls it from your mouth. But it’s so he can dip his head down to kiss you instead.

Of course the sensation of his lips on yours only lasts for a second, because the universe really fucking hates (or loves?) you, so the loud clanking of a metal water bottle against tile interrupts with harsh reverberation throughout the locker room walls, and he pulls away from you when you jump at the sound.

You both turn your heads towards the origin, located at the curved end of the entryway hall, and one of Gojo’s teammates is standing there with his duffle bag slung around his neck and hanging heavily to his thigh, his water bottle clutched in his hand. He blinks at the two of you.

Oh. It’s the one you kissed at that party a few weeks ago.

“What—…Why is there a—” his teammate starts, panicked, turning his head to double check the sign on the locker room wall as if he’s hallucinating, and when his eyes land on you again, they widen with recognition. His gaze shifts, and his chin tips down at the sight of Gojo’s irritated side eye from where he was still all up in your personal space. “…you know what. Nevermind.”

His teammate’s eyes are on you again, and you give him a shy little wave, just a fluttering of your fingers in the air paired with a small smile, legs swinging back and forth under the counter. He lets out an amused scoff from the entryway, lifting his hand to return the gesture, some cheeky grin on his face as he then scratches the back of his head before turning on his heel to leave the locker room, out of sight. You let out a sigh, hand dropping to your lap, and you don’t need to look at Gojo to tell that he’s staring at you with disbelief.

“What the fuck was that—”

“You,” you interrupt him, finger jabbing at the center of his chest, “have seriously got a lot of fucking nerve,” you hop off the counter, “to not only allow a soccer ball to sock me in the face,” he’s taking a step back with every harsh jab of your finger, “but to also hold me hostage in a mens’ locker room,” his back is pressed up against cold tile wall now while he just looks down at you with wide eyes and something akin to fear, “and then, oh my god, the audacity to kiss me?”

“I—”

“I don’t wanna hear it!” you yell, which shuts him up. “You really are just a fucking player.”

He’s stiff, not wanting to catch a punishment from you right now.

“But it doesn’t matter,” you grumble, still drilling your finger into his ribcage with the intent to cause pain. You didn’t need to be this close, but his body is warm, probably due to the blood pumping from practice, and it feels nice to be pressed up against. “Because I don’t have feelings for you anymore, so just fucking get over yourself.” It was a lie if you’ve ever told one, but you wanted to believe it so much that it could come off as the truth.

His eyes narrow down at you, eyebrows flattening. “You don’t have feelings for me anymore?”

“No, I don’t.”

“I don’t believe you.”

You roll your eyes. “Why? Because you want me to keep suffering?”

He grabs your hips, then makes a motion that is evident of his desire to pull you flush to him, but he stops himself. There’s a moment where he just takes a few deep breaths and looks at you with a hardened expression, then a split second where his eyes fall to that little cut on your cheek, and every single feature of his face softens, and then he lets you go.

You take a small step back, breathing heavily of your own, and you feel the ghost sensation of his fingertips wrapped around your hips. It makes you feel dizzy, and your thoughts are a mess. 

He sighs. “Sorry. For the soccer ball, and this locker room. But I’m not really sorry for kissing you, and if that makes me a jerk, then so be it.”

Your heart is beating fast. “You are a jerk, Satoru,” you say. He doesn’t like you, he doesn’t want you. A mantra played over and over in your head that you’ve started to hear it at night. “A real fucking jerk.” And you leave him standing there in a way that feels like the hundredth time.

—

2:34pm kaito (work): yo

2:34pm kaito (work): i had my guy look at your camera

2:35pm kaito (work): it’s pretty fucked up

2:37pm you: :( oh okay isee. does he have an estimate for the fix? the lens is okay though right?

2:39pm kaito (work): yeah lens is fine, you should really count your blessings on that. 

2:40pm kaito (work): but nah, fix would be around the same as the cost of it, so you’re better off getting a new one

2:42pm you: i don’t have thousands of yen laying around unfortunately. my car bill has sucked me dry

2:44pm kaito (work): well let me check with him. maybe he can hook you up with a good deal on a used one

2:45pm kaito (work): i got a 50% off on one of my canon cameras i bought from him a few years back. maybe he’s still got some like that

2:46pm you: yes could you check with him please? thanks so much, really

2:48pm kaito (work): sure. although i think the guy that kicked the ball to your face should be paying for your camera replacement

2:51pm you: they were just practicing. it’s their field

2:56pm kaito (work): alright. btw, you free tonight?

You blink at your phone screen from where you were sprawled across your bed. Before you have a chance to type out a response, your phone lights up with a phone call from kaito (work). You accept the call.

“Oh, hi,” you say.

“Hey, are you free tonight?”

“Oh uhh, I was just about to check my schedule.” You shake your head at your inability to come up with an excuse on the spot.

“Okay,” he says on the other line. You hear the sounds of cars honking in the distance. “Well let me know. I just left my camera guy’s shop, and he was telling me about how one of his friends does visuals for a short-film director, and that the director is looking for an assistant.” Kai grumbles something about someone he walked past being rude. “I think the director’s agency is Verve Films, so.”

You sit up in bed, eyes wide at the mention of the name. “Oh, oh wow. That’s insane.”

“Yup,” he says, “anyways, apparently the director is busy as fuck, so he left the hiring process up to my camera guy’s friend. I told him I knew someone that might be interested. Are you?”

You take a deep breath in and out. “Yeah, I am. Most of my experience on my resume lines up with short-film, so I’d be able to—”

“Alright great,” he interrupts, “so we can hold the interview tonight.”

“We?” you ask.

“Well yeah, me, my camera guy, the hiring guy. Maybe go for drinks or something.”

Your brow furrows. “That hardly sounds like an interview.”

Kai sighs. “Well, it’s not an interview for a desk job or something. It’s more of like—well, like building connections. I know you know all about that, since Utahime got you the newsletter job.”

Well, yes. She put a word in for you, which helped get the interview, but you still went against qualified applicants. “I guess.”

“It’ll be like that. Most opportunities you’ll get if you still want to pursue filmmaking are going to be like that,” he tells you, “if it feels informal, it means you’re doing it right. You might not think so now because you’re still in school, where they practically serve opportunities to students on platters, but it’s going to be different in the real world.”

You lay your head back onto the pillow, feeling like you’re receiving a lecture you didn’t ask for, and your first instinct is to pretend that you know better than he does. But when you think about all the stress recently, all of the not knowing, and the unsure, you question if you should start leaning into the advice of the people around you, and start to accept this career path for what it’s known to be. Unruly, unconventional, and a lot of times, unfair. 

“I see. Well, can I think about it? Tonight is too soon, I’d need time to research the director, put a portfolio together, and also do some interview prep,” you say, pulling your phone from your ear to glance at the time.

“Well, tonight’s the only night that works since their team’s shooting abroad for the weekend and they leave tomorrow morning,” he says.

You purse your lips together.

“But also,” Kai says, “it’s the nice thing to do, y’know, since my camera guy is taking the time to look at your camera for free, you could at least help his friend out. By the way, he just texted me, he does have some used Canons available at discount.”

You close your eyes for a second, just trying to process this conversation right now. Kai was speaking too fast, hardly enough time for you to even think.

“So do you want to do the interview tonight?”

“Yes, sure. Okay. Just— just send me the details. I’ll be there,” you say.

“Alright cool, will do.” 

You say bye, and then he hangs up.

A few hours pass by, where you spend some time putting together a flash drive of a couple of your best short films you’ve worked on in the past with other directors, as well as a portfolio of some recently developed film photography. The last thing to do was grab your emergency stash of print outs of your resume, and then you stuff it all into a folder before glancing at the mirror to take in your reflection. It felt extremely weird to show up to a job interview in something as casual as what you were wearing right now, but Kai insisted to not wear anything business. But at least you opted for jeans that don’t have any DIY holes in them.

Your face is glued to the navigation on your phone screen the second you get out of the taxi, and you walk down the bustling nightlife streets of Tokyo to get to this bar that Kai sent you the address of. But just as you’re about to turn the corner to your destination down the bar strip, you bump into someone’s chest due to lack of paying any proper attention.

“Ah— I’m so sorry,” you say, your grip on your phone tightening when you realize it was about to get knocked out of your hand, and then you look up to see a familiar face.

“Oh!” Geto exclaims from where he’s standing right in front of you, “You’re everywhere, y/n. What are you doing here?”

You open your mouth to speak, hesitate for a second, and then continue. “I’m here to…get drinks with some of my friends.”

He gives you a smile. “That’s nice. I am too.” He points over his shoulder to behind him. “Nanami got into his MBA program earlier this week, so, Satoru, Choso and I are buying him a few rounds. Or possibly a million. The plan is to incapacitate him as punishment for giving up on playing in the national league with us.”

You humor him with a laugh. “That’s sweet. Or not? Well anyway, tell him I said congrats.” Your heart starts to beat a little faster, because from the direction Geto came from, it meant Gojo was likely just around the corner somewhere. “Where are you heading to now?”

“We’re bar hopping, and I think I forgot my phone at the last one we went to over there,” he says, pointing across the street. “So I’m going to go look for it.” 

“Oh alright,” you say. “Good luck with that. I’m going to go find my, uh, my friends.”

Geto tilts his head at you and had a slightly more serious expression on his face, glancing at the folder in your hands. “Thanks. And stay safe.” 

You nod at him and then walk past him to round the corner onto the street that had groups of people loitering in front of restaurants, bars and all sorts of establishments as they wait in the cold to get inside or be seated. You recognize the name on one of the signs hanging as the one Kai sent you in his message, and when you’re a few feet away from it, you spot Kai. He’s wearing his typical street photographer wear, with a red flannel over a gray shirt and pants that are possibly a size too big for him, but that’s likely the style he was going for. He’s standing with two other people.

“Hey,” you greet Kai first, who has a pleasant look on his expression before he greets you back and gestures to the two people he was with.

“Yo, this is Junichi, my camera guy,” he says. “Don’t bother shaking his hand, he’s a germaphobe. Gotta keep ‘em clean for the electronics.”

“Oh,” you say. Junichi is a big man, broad shoulders and thick muscles. His neck is almost as thick as his bicep, and he has no hair on his head. His arms are crossed. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for taking a look at my camera.”

He nods at you in acknowledgment. “Sure thing. Pretty Boy here says you want to buy one of my used Canons. I don’t refurbish them, so you’d better know how.”

Kai sighs, nudging Junichi a little with a fist. “Relax, dude, we can talk about that later. Also, stop calling me that.”

Your eyes flicker to the right, where another man stood, who you assume was Junichi’s friend and this Verve Films director’s visual effects specialist. He’s similar in stature to Kai, with that casual artist look, and he has a scuffle of facial hair littering his jaw in less of an intentional fashion but rather a five-o-clock shadow fashion. You vaguely register the scent of weed, familiar to the one that lingers in the photo lab on campus after class hours. He reaches his hand out to you first.

“Hi, I’m Ren. I work in visual effects for director Akira Ko at Verve.”

Your eyes widen as you shake his hand.  “That’s amazing. I’ve studied a lot of his contemporary works, I’d love to learn more about his process.”

Ren lets a fast exhale out through his nose. “Yeah, you’ll learn a lot under him.” He pauses to shove his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Most of his assistants always do.”

“We’ve been waiting for too damn long,” Kai interjects before you could ask any questions about the assistant position, and he glances at his watch, “and there’s still a lot of people ahead of us.”

You glance around to the small groups of people gathered in front of this bar on a lively Friday night, eyes jumping from one area to the next, until a familiar silhouette catches your eye.

You see Gojo standing with Nanami and Choso a few strides away, near the lamppost. He’s mostly turned away from you, Nanami nudging his arm annoyed at something he said, and the sound of his laughter in the air makes your heart feel like it’s at stray. Like that was where you were supposed to be right now, not here.

You watch him from the distance as he sighs, shrugging his shoulders up and down slightly before crossing his arms when Choso gestures towards the entrance of the bar, and so he looks in that direction too. He’s frowning slightly and he brushes some of the hair fallen over his forehead away from his eyes, in that boyish way that makes your heart skip a beat, and you know he’s just doing it to see a little bit better, but it makes you want to cry. 

Geto walks up to them and rejoins their little circle, and holds his phone up in the air, and then there’s the melody of their voices bouncing off one another’s again. Geto rests his elbow up onto Gojo’s shoulder, leaning in a bit closer to tell him something, and when Gojo hears it, you see his entire body tense before his wide eyes are searching his surroundings, until those eyes land on you.

Your breath catches, and you hold his eye contact for only a moment before you look away, because it almost felt like too much to bear.

“What’s that folder in your hand?” Ren asks you, and you turn completely to face him so you can’t see Gojo in your periphery at all anymore.

“I just brought some of my work, for your—er, I guess Mr. Ko’s—reference if he’d like to see it after today’s…interview,” you say. “There’s a flashdrive, too.”

Ren has an amused look on his face and he shoves Kai’s shoulder with his palm. “Dude, you didn’t tell her?”

Kai shakes his head. “Tell her what?”

“Ohh, I see how it is,” Ren muses.

“What?” Kai asks, starting to sound annoyed.

Ren tips his chin up slightly to study Kai’s face, and then his look of amusement dissipates into one of understanding. “Nothing.”

“Tell me what?” you prod.

“Just that you didn’t really need to bring all of that with you,” he says. “Sorry for the trouble.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine, but if you could still give it to him—”

“I’m surprised Kai suggested someone when I asked if he knew anyone,” Junichi jumps in, “I’m used to him grumbling on and on about how shit the work is in filmmaking. Would’ve thought he’d convinced you to look the other way by now.”

You blink at the gruff man, then look at Kai, and he’s just staring down at the dirt of his shoes. “Well, we had a conversation about it. But I’m pretty set on what I want to do,” you say.

Kai lets out a scoff. “Yeah, I don’t really know how else to warn you about the shit show you’re in for, but if you want to be in debt to grad school for the next couple decades of your life, then it’s up to you.”

“Hey, jackass, try to be a bit nicer,” Ren speaks up. “She’s got some goals. Big fuckin’ deal.” He turns to you. “Although, he’s got a point sweetheart, school’s not going to get you anywhere in this industry.”

You frown. “A lot of directors I look up to went through graduate schooling. Most, I would say. I don’t understand where this rhetoric is coming from.”

“It’s coming from real people with real experience,” Ren says, and you dislike the way he takes a step closer to you to reiterate his point, “honestly, you should save yourself some time and give up on applying. It’s not worth it.”

“I’ve already put my application together,” you say, brow furrowing slightly, “I’ve asked professors for my references, spent the past four years working on my profile—” 

“But working under a director, I mean really getting to work under one, beats all of that. Which is why you’re here, right?” Ren asks, but it’s not curious, it’s testing.

You feel a sheen of sweat build at your forehead, even in this cold, and you clench your hand into a fist once, twice, thrice. You’re breathing fast, and the three sets of eyes that are staring so scrutinizingly into your soul right now have you faltering, like if they took another step forward, tried to intrude what you thought you knew one more time, you’d fall backwards over the cliff.

Suddenly, a hand wraps around your upper arm, and when you turn your head to the left, you see Gojo standing there.

“Hey,” he says to you, sparing one single sidewards glare towards Kai, who immediately averts the eye contact, before Gojo’s eyes are on you again, “can I talk to you for a second?”

You look at the three men in your circle, who suddenly adopt skittish body postures, and Gojo doesn’t really wait longer than a few seconds before he’s pulling you away from them over towards the edge of the curb towards the street.

“What?” you ask once he lets go of your arm.

“What are you doing here with those guys?” he asks.

“I’m—…why does it matter to you?” you ask.

“It matters to me because of the fucking absurd conversation I just overheard,” he says, “now answer me.”

His tone annoys you, and you cross your arms. “Are you eavesdropping?”

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” he says, taking a step forward to you, “who are those guys, and why are you here with them?”

You blink at him, furrowed brows relaxing slightly as you drop your crossed arms to your side, and you stare straight ahead at the blankness of the white t-shirt he’s wearing, as your mind runs blank to his question. Why were you here with them? Was it because you had no other plans? Was it because the opportunity sounded too good to be true, and you just had to see for yourself? Was it because you’ve been unable to sleep at night from all the stress, the financial worries, the rejection, and you just want to finally feel like you’ve done one good thing for yourself? To feel like you’re at least making one step in the right direction, no matter the cost?

“I’m here for a job interview,” you say to him. Your tone is flat, and you feel numb.

“A job interview?” he asks, with just about as much incredulity you would’ve expected to hear from him at that answer, “At a bar? How does that make any sense?”

“It…” you start, “sounded fine.”

“It sounds shady as fuck.”

“This doesn’t concern you, okay? I’m—…I’m just trying to make my goals work for me, Satoru, and I really don’t expect you to understand.”

“Why wouldn’t I understand?” he asks. There’s confusion in his voice, and maybe even a little bit of hurt.

“Because you can’t even understand how unfair and painful it is for me that you keep—” you have to purse your lips together briefly to fight back the knot in your throat, “…that you keep interfering with my life everywhere I go.”

His expression softens, and he silently stands in front of you for a moment. His eyes dart across your face, and then he reaches out to grab your hand. “Listen, if you still want to get drinks tonight, then just get drinks with us. But don’t hang out with those guys. They’re bad news, especially the dude with the flannel, and I don’t think you’re in a good place right now to see that.”

Your eyes see white fury at that, and you all but snap. Because the irony of this whole situation, is that you’re not in a good place right now because of him. Because of all the pain that he’s put you through, for promising to stay away but then always being near, for saying he doesn’t want you but then acting like he does. 

“You know what I think, Satoru?” you ask through gritted teeth, yanking your hand from his grasp.

He’s looking at you, studying. “What?”

You take a step forward, threateningly, and he takes a step back so that he steps off the curb and onto the road, and you’re at eye-level with him now. “I think that you’re jealous,” you say, eyes glaring daggers into his.

He blinks at you, almost dumbfounded for a moment before he says “what?”

“You’re just fucking jealous that I seem to be moving on after you rejected me, because for some weird reason, you think it’s okay to not want me, and yet not want me to be with anyone else,” you say, practically hissing the words. “You don’t like seeing me with any guys other than you? You don’t want to believe me when I say that I’m over you? You’re not sorry for kissing me? Even after knowing,” you take a pause to breathe, because you feel like you can’t, “even after knowing that I like you,” eyes blinking fast because you don’t want him to see you cry right now, “you know that I like you so fucking much, and that it’s hurtful, and that it’s wrong— and even after all of that, you act the same, and still won’t promise me any commitment of your own.”

He’s looking at you with an expression you can’t read, but you’ve lost all interest in trying to understand it anymore.

“You don’t want me hanging out with them?” you repeat after him, “I’m not listening to that. Because it’s possessive. And it’s wrong.”

At the mention of them, Gojo clenches his jaw. “That has nothing to do with you and me, right now. What they’re trying to convince you of doesn’t make any sense, and it won’t help you achieve your dreams either, y/n.”

“You don’t know anything about my dreams, Satoru,” you say, just to hurt him. But you think about the sincere expression on his face the first time you met him when you told him that you wanted his help with your assignment. You think about the playful nudge of his elbow that night he stayed with you on the curb, and told you that you just had to try to put yourself out there, because you couldn’t accomplish anything without facing your fears. You think about how he’s always the first to like every single one of the slideshows you post of your pictures on Instagram. You think about the adoration in his eyes, reflected off the moonlight through the hotel window, when you told him about a little cottage on the countryside, one you’ve always wanted, and those eyes told you that he was really rooting for you. “You don’t know. Because you—” there’s an echo of words in your head. Someone else’s words, not yours, “Because you’re a college athlete. And—” you let out an exhale, “and you don’t pay tuition.”

His brow furrows. There’s a beat of silence as his confusion settles in. “What?”

“You were born blessed with talent, and you’re popular, and people adore you, and you don’t have to worry about internships, or jumping from job to job just to make something of yourself,” you say, picturing your life in your head along with all the strife, “or about all of the sinking debt, and the worry, and the— and the car repair bills,” you say, almost with a scoff, eyes sheening with tears, like you’re losing your mind, “all of the fucking car repair bills.” Your chest is heaving as you shake your head. “Because you’re set for life as long as you kick a fucking ball.” 

His lips purse together, like he can tell there’s more on your tongue to say, more hurtful words, and he wants to hear you say them. And so you do.

“You’ve never had to suffer or worry about a single thing in your life. So don’t pretend like you understand what I’m trying to do here tonight,” you say, inflection signing off on the end, to tell him that you’re done. 

He stands in front of you, practically motionless except for the slow movement of his chest as he breathes. His expression, tense and hurt, softens slowly, and you see him digging his nails into the skin of his palms through fidgeting clenched fists at his sides. And then he relaxes them, too.

“Does that make you feel better?” he asks.

His question confuses you, and for some reason, regret washes over you. “What?”

“Does thinking of me that way—…does it make you feel better about all of this? Between us?”

You’re breathing fast, eyebrows pinching upwards to look at him, and the defeated expression on his face makes your heart ache. He’s waiting for an answer, and so you give him one. “Yes.”

He glances down at the ground for a moment, then at your collarbone, before meeting your gaze again. “I’m sorry. For everything. And I—” the words catch in his throat briefly, “I’ll try to leave you alone tonight.”

His use of the word try doesn’t escape you, but you give him a furtive nod, and he studies your face for a few moments before he steps back up onto the curb and walks past you. You watch him walk all the way, no longer with that confidence or conviction you’re so used to seeing in him, as he steps back into his circle, to Geto’s side. Geto gives a small glance over his shoulder to look at you with discerning eyes before looking at Gojo again, and then he’s turned away from you. 

Heavy feet drag you back to Kai, Ren, and Junichi, and you feel feverish. They mention something about the table being ready, and you nod. The bar is rustic, with more tables than barspace, and the four of you are seated and then presented with a small food menu. You’re seated next to Kai, Ren is right across from you, and Junichi is to his right. You watch a waitress usher Nanami, Choso, Geto and Gojo to one of the tables as well, two away from yours, and you forcefully blur your vision so you don’t have to catch sight of the expression on Gojo’s face.

“So,” Ren speaks up as his eyes peruse the food menu and Junichi waves the waitress over to order a round of sake, “tell me more about your experience, sweetheart.”

You blink at him, eyes feeling heavy, heart feeling heavy. “I’d prefer it if you called me by my name.”

Ren lets out a coo, and you briefly glance at Kai who’s shaking his head with a sigh. “My bad, y/n. Your experience?”

Your hands play with the folder sitting in your lap. “I started writing screenplays for small-scale directors when I was a freshman, and was greenlit on a couple into my sophomore year. One of the films I worked on, I had directing credits for, and it was nominated for best screenplay at Etoile Film Festival the year following.”

Ren swallows slightly, shifting in his chair and pushing his shoulders back, like he’s trying to establish himself now. Kai is clenching a fist on the surface of the table.

Ren clears his throat before speaking again. “Wow, okay, so you’ve actually got some serious shit going on.” His voice is a faux octave deeper. “What do you know about being a good assistant? Ever worked in customer service? Secretary?”

“Oh, I mean I have worked in customer service, but I wasn’t done sharing about my experience—” you try to say but Junichi cuts you off.

“First round’s on me,” he declares, “for bringing her out here.” He tips his chin to you and then sends Kai a glance.

A waitress brings by a bottle of sake, and Junichi begins pouring drinks into the glasses, then slides them across the table. Kai gives Ren a pointed look. 

“Don’t get too wasted,” Kai says to him as he brings his glass to his lips, “you start running that mouth of yours a little too much when you do.”

Ren grins at him and immediately knocks down the glass Junichi barely finished pouring from him in one go, and the gruff man beside him is grumbling. “Whatever you say.”

Something had been bothering you since you came here. “Wait,” you say, pointing between Kai and Ren, “do you two know each other already? Because,” you turn to look at Kai, “on the phone earlier, you sounded like you didn’t.”

Kai’s eyebrows raise in surprise, as though he’s discovered you have some skill for foresight. You glance at Ren, and he gives Kai a puzzled look.

“Uh, yeah. I’ve known Kai for years,” he says, “we go way back. We went to highschool together.”

Kai shifts a little in his chair. “Sorry. Probably forgot to mention it.”

You glance down at the glass of sake in front of you, and the way it twinkles under the lighting of the bar. You slowly bring it to your mouth, taking a small sip, and the way it coats your tongue is less than pleasing. 

“Can you tell me more about the assistant position?” you ask Ren, who’s emptied out the bottle of sake and waving someone over to order more. He already has a slightly flush to his face.

“Yeah, yeah, will do,” he says, “but first, let me tell you about what I do in visuals.”

Another round of sake is dropped by, and then another, followed by another, as Ren continues to ramble on and on about what he does for work, and how it’s entirely integral to the final piece of the film, although you’ve never really had a terrible level of appreciation for visual effects in short-film craft, since it’s hardly much work. But you wouldn’t say that, you just continue to nurse your one glass of sake as the three men surrounding you knock back more and more, and there’s slurs to their speeches now.

“Sooo, I’m so sorry, sweetheart—I mean y/n, for cuttin’ you off earlier,” he says, “but what was that experience you wanted to talk to me about?” Ren asks from across the table, and his eyes are all traveling over you.

“I…” you start, “well, I started to work with one of my professors last year, she’s a two-time Cannes Film Festival winner, and she let me under her wing for one of her projects last year.”

“Who is she? Oh wait, nevermind, probably wouldn’t have heard of her anyways,” Ren says, but when you fail to laugh, he waves his hand in the air. “Joking, joking. What’s her name?”

“Naoko. Naoko Ogigami.”

“Oh shit. I have heard of her,” Ren says, followed by a shallow hiccup. Junichi shrugs his shoulders, and when you look at Kai, he’s nodding slowly and toying with the rim of his glass with a finger.

“Yes. Well, anyways—” you start up again, before Kai sets his glass of sake down particularly loud.

“This is all bullshit. Really. I told you, filmmaking is a waste of time. Just focus on your photography, and your freelance or whatnot,” Kai says, grit to his jaw, face looking red with possibly something other than just a tipsiness. 

Ren lets out a laugh. “Fuckin’ Kai. What a pessimist. Don’t listen to him, sweetheart,” he says, slurred, and you furrow your brow at him with a glare, “sorry. Don’t listen to him. Trust me, you’ll learn a lot under Mr. Ko. He’s a suuuper nice guy.”

“What’s the compensation?” you ask. It’s a brazen question, one you’d never ask so soon in a formal interview process, but this table was hardly anything formal.

“Real good. Mmm I think like…5200 yen an hour, and then also, you get your foot in the door.”

“Oh,” you sit up a little in your chair. It was higher than most entry-level anything for undergraduates or even new grads. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he drawls when he sees you’re more interested. “Good stuff. Kai used to pick these kinds of jobs up, too, back in his college days. I remember. Although, he’s hardly Mr. Ko’s type, so I doubt he’d be any good for this one.”

Your head snaps to Ren again at his words, face tensing. 

“Tell her about what a job like this—hic—entails,” Ren says as he extends his glass out for Junichi to pour him another.

Kai glances at Ren once, and you watch him grind his teeth for a moment, and then there’s a hint of a smirk on his face.

“Oh. Y’know, clerical work. Stuff like printing scripts out,” Kai starts, Junichi filling up his glass and then he raises it into the air to watch the liquid swish around, “grabbing him coffee. Making sure his trailer is stocked.”

“Blowing him in said trailer,” Ren says. It’s something quiet, under his breath with a small laugh, where you could barely hear it across the table. But you heard it nonetheless. And your heart sinks to the core of the earth.

“Excuse me?” you say. The benefit of doubt sitting on your shoulder, watching in disbelief as well.

“He’s joking,” Kai says, quickly, “runnin’ his mouth.”

“Oh fuck off, Kai,” Ren says, throwing his hands up in the air, “don’t act like that’s not why you brought her here.”

Your head slowly turns to Kai, who can’t meet your gaze. Your eyes flicker to Junichi, who looks amused. 

Ren leans over the table, elbows resting on top, to look you straight in the eyes. He’s got a sleazy smile, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath, and he dips his tone down low enough to where you can hardly hear it over the sounds surrounding you in the bar. “That’s how you’ll make it in this industry, sweetheart. Whether you like it or not, you’ll be working under those directors until you make it.”

You stand up so fast that your chair falls behind you, hand raised in the air, and you swiftly slap the man across from you so hard across the cheek that it leaves his skin even more red than the flush from before, and your palm is stinging. 

There’s gasps all around the bar, hushed voices, eyes on you, but you don’t care. There’s not a single thing in the world you care more about right now than the anger swelled in your chest.

Ren holds his cheek, surprised, blinking like a pathetic animal. He almost looks like he’s about to cry, and you let out a scoff at the sight.

You turn to face Kai, whose eyes are wide and he’s staring up at you. Your fists are clenched at your side.

“Is this why you brought me here tonight?” you ask. Your voice is trembling, anxiety at the wake, the white anger spotting your vision. But there’s also pain. So much pain, and you’re just so fed up with all of it. “Because your belittling, condescending words weren’t enough to tear my hopes apart, so you had to humiliate me in front of your friends instead?”

Kai holds his hand up. “Woah, Canon, relax. He was just joking—…” Kai glances at Ren, who’s still holding his cheek and biting down on his lip, and then his gaze hardens. “Y’know what? It’s about fucking time you get this wake-up call, y/n. I’ve been trying to do the nice thing to steer you in the right direction, and the least you could—”

“Steer me in the right fucking direction?!” you’re yelling now, registering the way your voice echoes in the bar. “You know what I think this is all about, Kai?” You grit your teeth, “You’re a sick, stupid, sexist fuck who didn’t have the balls to go after what he wanted. So miserably pathetic that you’ve got no other fucking business than to pull people down to your level.”

Kai pinches his eyebrows together, hand on the table clenching into a fist. 

You lean down closer, an exasperated scoff leaving your lips. “Why don’t you go be his assistant instead? Since I’m sure you’re good at taking it up the ass.”

Kai’s eyes twitch, “you fucking—”

You grab his glass off the table and throw the alcohol into his face, eliciting another round of noises around the bar, and his mouth falls agape in shock before he gets up out of his chair, hand reaching out to grab for you. You close your eyes shut with a flinch to expect pain. Any sort of pain. But you don’t feel anything at all.

When you open your eyes, you see Gojo standing to your left, veins of his arm tense with the tight grip he has on Kai’s forearm, and you can see he’s practically shaking with rage. He steps in front of you, guarding, and you can’t see the expression on his face, but the fear in Kai’s eyes is enough to say it all.

“That’s enough,” he says, the clench of his jaw evident through the strain in his voice, “try to put your hands on her again, and I’ll split your fucking face in half.”

You can see Kai’s breathing pick up from where you’re peering over Gojo’s shoulder, and then Gojo shoves him backwards right as Choso kicks the fallen chair to his feet so he trips over it backwards then hits the ground with a loud and indignant thud.

Gojo’s hovering over Kai, his hands shoved in his pockets as he glares down at him, while Geto and Nanami put space between you and the other two men at your table. You feel a searing flush to your cheeks. You’re breathing fast, the peering eyes all around you are scrutinizing, looking at you with surprise, confusion, shock, and pity. Your mind is racing, and you wonder what your parents would think of all this. What your friends would think of all of this. What the people who support you would think of the fucked up situation you’ve found yourself in, and the humiliation courses so deep through your veins that you just want to run away and hide. The ground could swallow you whole right now, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

You take one step back, then another, before you turn on your heel to rush out the door into the night, and you barely register that it’s raining. You can feel your heart thumping fast in your chest and in your head, that familiar knot in your throat twisting tight as you walk fast down the street and ignore Gojo’s call of your name from behind you.

You don’t want to see anyone right now. You don’t want to be seen by anyone right now. Especially Gojo, of all people, because he was right about everything, and the fact that you had shut him down about it, and the way that you had shut him down about it makes your head numb and your breathing pick up fast.

“y/n,” you hear him call out from behind you, his pace is getting faster and so you’re resorting to longer strides as well, puddles of water splashing under your feet with every step, “just wait—”

“I’m seriously,” you start, and the tears begin to fall, “I’m seriously so, so, so, so, so fucking embarassed right now,” you gasp out the words with no air left in your lungs to breathe as you continue to run away from him, “so please, just leave me alone.”

You can picture it all in your head. Something like I told you so from his lips, because after what you’ve been put through tonight, you just want to assume the worst in people.

But just as you round the corner into an alley, feeling lost with the sight of a dead end, you feel a hand wrap around your arm and then you’re being pulled into an embrace.

Your eyes are blinking with tears streaming, your face buried in a chest that is warm, with a heart beating so fast that it’s keeping time with your own, and the fragrance that surrounds you is so painfully him that it makes you sob even more.

Strong arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, and Gojo rests his chin at the top of your head. “I’m sorry,” he says softly, and you can feel the rumble of his voice, “I just needed to stop you from running.”

Your arms are weakly raised, an outline over his torso but not yet grabbing on, until you hesitantly do. And when you hold onto him, it’s so tight and strong, and you realize that after everything between the two of you, it’s the first time you’ve been wrapped in his arms.

“I feel so stupid,” you start, already hating the words because you want to be stronger right now, but you can’t.

“You’re not stupid,” he quickly corrects you, “those guys are fucking insecure losers. You’re just trying your best. You always have, for as long as I’ve known you, and it’s something you should be proud of yourself for.”

You don’t know what to say to him, you just cling to the damp fabric of his shirt in the rain.  

“Things are going to work out for you, no matter what, because I know you’ve got what it takes and you’re willing to work hard for it,” he says, his chin nuzzling so you’re tucked into him even further, “and if things don’t work out, that’s okay, you’re strong and you’ll always get back up. And I want to be there to help you through everything.”

You pull your face from his chest to stare up at him, droplets of rain falling to your face and making you flinch occasionally. “I’m confused.”

His hand comes up to cup your face, swiping at a tear on your cheek, or maybe it was rain. “I thought that—” he starts, his thumb briefly running over the small cut still healing on your cheek, his brow furrowing, “I thought that I’d be okay with watching your life from afar, through cropped pictures on a screen,” he says, a chill running through you, “but I can’t. It’s killing me. And I’m really sorry that it took me this long to tell you this, but I like you so much and I really want to be with you.”

Your eyes widen at his words, and you don’t know how to feel. You push your face into his chest again. His thumb runs circles at your side through the dampness of your shirt.

“There are a lot of reasons I didn’t feel like I could date you, or show up for you,” he says, “but the pain of not getting to be with you, of not getting to hold you, and just share my life with you is way worse than whatever reasons I kept trying to convince myself of.”

You nod slowly, because there was a part of you deep inside that knew that all along. 

His grip on you relaxes slightly and you take that as a request from him for you to look up at him, so you do. “I know I’ve put you through a lot of pain, and I’m really not a perfect person, but if there’s room in your heart to forgive me, I promise you that I’ll do everything I can to make you feel happy and cared for.”

Your eyes study his face for sincerity. They’re words you’ve been wanting to hear, words you could’ve pictured in your head, but the adoration in his eyes makes you realize you never could’ve imagined the true sweetness of those words when they’re said from him.

You press your cheek to his chest again. You’re not crying anymore. “I’m sorry for what I said to you earlier. About kicking a soccer ball, and having it easy,” you bite down on your lip, because now there’s tears in your eyes again, “I didn’t mean it.” You sniffle a little, “I know you work hard. And it was a really mean thing to say.”

He sighs, holding you flush to himself. His cheek presses against the top of your head. “That’s okay, you don’t have to apologize for that.”

“But I do.”

There was no grudge at all. There was nothing withdrawn from you, nothing taken away as punishment. He just held onto you, exactly as you are, and you felt so safe in every second you spent in his arms.

You look up at him again. His hair is damp, strands clinging to his face in all the places they usually fall over, droplets of rain falling from his fringe onto your face and he does everything he can to wipe them away. “It’s too late,” you tell him, and he immediately knows what you’re referring to.

He just holds you closer. “I know.”

“I don’t have feelings for you anymore,” you say through a sniffle.

He knows you’re lying, and that you say it just out of spite, but he holds your head to his chest. “I know.”

“You’ll have to beg and grovel, and even then, I might not like you ever again,” you say, gripping so tightly onto his shirt for purchase, your voice sounding muffled as you breathe in the scent of him. “That’s your punishment.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head. A firm press of his lips, lasting as he takes a few deep breaths. And then he kisses the same spot again, staying still in that position as he repeats himself.

“I know.”

--

a/n. phewww thank you for reading, i swear, this chapter felt like a goddamn war to write. my emotions were all over the damn place, i think cause i wrote from a place of bitter experience lol. i dedicate this chap to my lovely friend she’s a film major (she inspired me to create this story) and i srs wouldn’t be able to write kickoff without her 😭💕 dear M♥︎, i thought of you sm while writing this chapter, i can only hope i’ve captured even the slightest bit of the understanding i will always aim to have of you, and that you feel seen. i’m incredibly proud of you, always rooting for you, so often thinking of you, and terribly missing you so much rn (plsssssss visit meee😩💔 ) dedicated w sm love 💕 -bitchasshoe this chapter is also dedicated to anyone who’s going through a hard times n maybe just trying to figure themselves out :”) i am so proud of you, you should be so proud of yourself, there’s still so much to live and learn, and i hope the universe blesses you w everything you’ve ever wanted!! big thank u to my lovely m00t @quinnyundertow she pulled me out of my writers block for this chapter and also beta read a lot of it for me there’s only three chapters left for kickoff (i’m gonna cry just thinking ab it :”)) which doesnt sound like a lot but there’s still a lot i’ve got planned 😭 i’m just noticing that i very poorly planned the second half of this series. chapters 1-6 combined have less words than chapters 7-9 combined 😅✨ sooooo i may increase the chapters from 12 to 14 by splitting them up to make it easier on me, or just stick to the plan and come out with long chapters like the last two. idk. i’ll figure it out. thank u to everyone for reading i love you all dearly 😭💕 i’ll see you in the next one!!

➸ take me to chapter ten!

➸ wrote some kickoff headcanons here

--

taglist: @who-can-touch-my-boob @therealestpussyeater @lost-resonance @hojoslutoru @foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @bsdicinindirdim @tsukikourito @getitsatoru @slut-4-gojo @cactisjuice @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @ethereally-lyann @btszn @prince-wyiilder @semra4 @gojosimp26 @drthymby @ninitoru @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010 @bakuhoethotski @horisdope @sykostyles @aquaberrydolphin @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @ri-sa20 @purplehallow11 @mwtsxri @ritsatoru @bxddiebloss @chwesuh-imnida @mo0nforme @viware @still-fking-single @megumisthirdog @gintokhi @karvokr @cierocanteat @imjustaweirdnerd @ronniebird @bloopsstuff @mwtsxri @witchbybirth @tetsuski @fffinskye @gh0ulkz @beabadobeee @mandysfanfics @erencvlt @laviefantasie @sukunamylovexoxo @girlkissersco @itzjuliana @yell0wdreams @1dimas7 @strayedjeno @mo0nforme @yungbloode @sullybrothersmate @oaooaoaoaoa @swagangelllamawolf @banenemilk @inniesblog

(hope i didn't miss anyone thank u all sm!!)

[pellucid-constellations]

Faking It

Pairing: College Athlete!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes was in love with his girl—disgustingly, annoyingly so. Enough to start fights on the ice just to make sure he saw her after a game.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: This is FLUFF!! With HOCKEY MAN

a/n:​​​ This was originally something completely different but then I hated it so now it's all fluff and now I do not hate it. Pleaseeeee let me know what you think and if you enjoy it!! I love you thanks for reading ❤️❤️❤️

Masterlist

~~

“Jesus Christ, Buck. Again?” 

Bucky grinned, split lip tightening uncomfortably. When he turned to his captain, he had the gall to act oblivious. “What do you mean, captain?” 

Steve gave him a disapproving look. “Give it up, pal. There was no need to pick a fight with that guy and you know it.” 

“He was talking shit about the team!” 

“They’ll always be a player talking shit about the team.” 

“Then why’re you breathing down my neck right now, huh? We won. Be happy, Cap,” Bucky encouraged, slinging an arm over his shoulder. Steve raised a brow back at him but was clearly fighting back a smirk. Bucky could tell by the way his eyes lifted, contrasting his deep—albeit fake—frown. 

In truth, Bucky had been looking for a fight. He’d been looking for a plethora of fights since the start of the season, and was usually quite successful with his venture. It had garnered him quite the reputation, but where the crowd saw it as a short-fuse on a large man, Steve saw it for what it really was. 

An opportunity to see you. 

And while Steve could appreciate the dedication, it made one of his best players ride out unnecessary time in the penalty box. 

“I am happy. Just not with you,” Steve clarified, knocking Bucky’s arm away. 

Bucky let out a sound close to a scoff. “Even with my extra time in the sin bin I still helped carry. It’s just part of the game, Steve. Gotta protect the team’s pride.” 

“Yeah,” Steve drawled sarcastically, stopping in front of the locker room doors. “I’m sure that was your reasoning. What was it last game? Someone said something about your ma?” 

“Hey, he did.” 

“They always do.”

Heavy footsteps created a commotion in the hall, the rest of the team finally catching up with the pair. They funneled their way into the room for showers and a fresh change of clothes, and Steve stood with his crossed arms leaning against the wall, somehow still directing an admonishing look towards Bucky amidst the crowd. Bucky did his best to look baffled by the unspoken accusation, but then Sam Wilson passed by and Bucky’s ploy was disintegrated. 

“Hey man,” Sam greeted, slapping a friendly hand against Bucky’s arm as he passed. “You let someone beat the shit out of you again so you could go see your girl?” 

Bucky’s scoff returned, but this time Steve was having none of it. He kicked off of the wall and went to follow the rest of the team into the locker room. Bucky watched with a grimace, not only caught, but put on display.

“You know,” Steve called over his shoulder, not expecting Bucky to follow. “You’re dating the girl now. You don’t gotta keep up with this whole schtick.” 

“I don’t have a schtick,” he called back. At the responding laugh from Steve, Bucky yelled, “I don’t!” but no one was listening to him. Or believing him. 

But fine. If his schtick involved you, in any capacity, Bucky would admit to having one. 

Some of what Steve said was right. Bucky was dating you now. You were his girl and that would imply total access to you all the time, whenever he wanted. He didn’t need to pick fights or feign injuries anymore (the latter never really worked anyways), because he had a key to your apartment. And you were in his bed more weekends than not. 

But, damn, were you busy right now. 

Bucky had never really considered how much schooling went into becoming a physical therapist until he met you. You were typically swamped with papers and tests and requests from Dr. Cho, but this past month had been exponentially worse thanks to finals. He had seen you about once a week if he was lucky, and that was a generous estimation. Add your crazy schedule to the alarming amount of away games he had over the past few weeks and he was champing at the bit to see you. 

Bucky just prayed it was you in the training room today and not Dr. Cho. His odds were pretty favorable considering the team’s main trainer didn’t usually stick around after games if there were no major injuries, but there was always the off chance she let her interns go home early. But, knowing you, you would be in that room until the rink lights went off. 

God, he loved you. Every overworked, high-strung bit of you. 

He even loved the scolding look you shot him as he pushed open the training room doors, his bruises and cuts on full display. You dropped the pen you were tapping against an overflowing notebook and rocketed out of your rolling stool, and Bucky adored the way you stomped over to him, biting the inside of your cheek to stop the curse you clearly wanted to let free. 

“Hey, baby,” Bucky smiled, this time ignoring the sting in his lip. “Funny seeing you here.” 

You huffed, bringing careful fingers up to his chin. “Not very funny,” you mumbled. “Not when you look like someone hit you with their car.” 

Bucky let you fuss for a moment, following your touch as you turned his head back and forth and examined his split knuckles. This was your job, so obviously he let you do it, but he enjoyed watching you. So he didn’t stop you from lifting his jersey up to inspect his middle, because how else would he catch the cute way you scrunch your nose up in concentration? If he pulled his hands away when you started testing the range of motion in his wrists, when else would he be able to track your lips as you softly counted and mouthed gentle confirmations? 

Never. Because you were so damn busy. 

“Missed you,” Bucky said after sneaking a kiss on your forehead while you were prodding at the bruise on his collarbone. “I’ve been missing you a lot.” 

You let a small smile interrupt the disgruntlement on your face. Bucky grinned at the change, pressing another kiss to your hair while he still could. 

“Did you miss me enough to send a right hook into that guy’s jaw?” 

“Yes.” 

Your smile was gone again. Now you looked aghast. “Bucky.” 

“What?” he exclaimed, sliding his torn hands from your healing ones to wrap you in his embrace. “You want me to lie instead? Okay, fine. No, sweetheart, I didn’t start a fight just to have an excuse to see you. That guy got all these punches in on me because I’m out of practice, is all. I don’t think about you every waking second of my life, and while we’re at it, no I did not use your shampoo this morning because I miss how—”

“Okay, okay,” you laughed, resting your forehead on the divot in his chest. “I get it. Thanks for being truthful.” 

Bucky relished in the feel of you. He had been slightly worried that his state would cause you to be more upset than anything. If you weren’t so tired right now, there was a high chance you’d be yelling at him because of his recklessness instead of resting against his chest. So Bucky jumped at the opportunity, trailing one of his hands up to cup the back of your head. He craned his neck down, burying his face into the juncture of your neck. 

He hadn’t been lying about the shampoo. 

“I miss you too. Even if you act like an idiot sometimes,” you mumbled against his jersey. 

Something in Bucky felt lighter, warm. “Acting like an idiot’s the only way I get to see my girl.” 

You hummed. “Sorry ‘m so busy.” 

You had to be exhausted. Not even a single reprimand had tumbled from your mouth. Bucky had expected at least three. 

“When’s the last time you slept, baby?” Bucky kept his voice low, his thumb making unconscious circles against your hair. 

“I don’t know. In the night.” 

“Okay, thanks smart ass.” Bucky jostled you a bit until your eyes met his. “I meant when did you last take a break? Get a good night’s sleep?” 

You sighed, gaze trailing over his face. “Let me fix you up. Then we can play twenty questions.” 

“Baby—”

“No, Buck, this is the training room, if you haven’t noticed,” you quipped, stepping back and rifling through a few drawers. “Take a seat and I’ll fix you. That’s my job.” 

“Well, what about my job?” he grumbled back. 

“You have failed at your job. Your job is hockey and you instead played human punching bag.” 

“Not that job. My other job. The one where I take care of you.” 

You spun on your heel, a basket of supplies resting on your hip. The sweater that engulfed your frame had the university’s logo stamped across the front, but instead of jeans or slacks—the usual uniform for PT interns—you wore leggings. Your hair was pulled back in the most endearing, pretty mess, and Bucky’s chest hurt as he looked at you. 

“My tired girl,” he hummed, bringing his hand up to your cheek as you pushed him down on the exam chair. He sat if only to appease you, his feet still flat on the floor even with the tall seat.

“I’m only a little tired,” you weakly fought. Bucky chuckled in response, sanitary paper crinkling beneath him. “Now let me clean you up.” 

You snapped gloves onto your hands and Bucky fought back a petulant whine. If he had been any other member of the team, those gloves would have been on the second they walked in the door. He should be grateful, then, that you only put them on when it was time to tend to his wounds, but he wasn’t. He missed you too much to feel latex instead of your skin. 

Bucky’s lip stung as you cleaned it, but he hardly flinched. If he moved, he would miss the pretty way you bit into your lip as you stared at him. 

“Remember when I’d be in here all the time?” he asked when you turned back down to grab antibiotic cream. 

You let out a tired laugh. “How could I forget? You picked a fight every game. If that didn't work you’d come stumbling in here complaining about a torn ACL or whatever. Big liar.” 

“I wouldn’t call it lying.” 

The smile you gave him was replicated on his own face. 

“You were literally lying.” You dabbed the cream on his lip, and then moved to the cut on his cheek. “You would come limping in here and then I’d see you an hour later running out to the parking lot.” 

“You wouldn’t look at me if I wasn’t injured.” 

“It was my job, Bucky!” you laughed, eyes giving away your amusement. “I wasn’t supposed to be fraternizing with the players. I’m pretty sure Cho only lets us be together because you wouldn’t leave her alone otherwise.” 

Bucky moved his hands from his thighs to your waist, tugging you closer as you worked. “Hey, sometimes drastic measures are needed.” 

“You called her multiple times a day… bought her an edible arrangement. Wait, didn’t you offer to drive her kids to school a few times?” 

“It worked, didn’t it,” he posed, nudging his nose against your cheek. You giggled, lightly slapping his arm to get away. 

“The edible arrangement was a good touch,” you relented. 

Bucky released you as you wiggled from his grip, flitting around the training room to put supplies back. He spotted your backpack in the corner of the room, unzipped with the water bottle tipping out. When you sat down at the computer to document his care, which he found a bit ridiculous (you only put a bandaid on his face), Bucky walked over and gathered your things. He did so slowly so you wouldn’t notice; you probably had plans to stay at the rink for another few hours, and that was not okay with him. 

With a final zip and your water bottle now standing upright, Bucky meandered over to your seated position. He hooked his chin over your shoulder as you worked, leaning over and tapping your phone screen for the time. His heart twisted warmly in his chest when he saw a picture of himself smiling under the 8:00 pm displayed on the homescreen. 

After all the pining and work it took to get you, Bucky often felt this wasn’t real. 

God, he loved you. 

“I know what you’re trying to do,” you whispered, clicking away at the computer. “I still have some charting to do. Peter hit his head yesterday and I have to do the follow up work.” 

Still in his uniform, Bucky wrapped you up from behind. Now you would both need a shower and he could get you to leave. He kissed the back of your head, and then your temple, and then your cheek as he craned his neck to watch you work. You smelled like fresh laundry and books and the subtle hint of your perfume.

“Parker’s fine. He was up and playing today. Let’s go home, baby,” Bucky murmured, most of his words spoken against your skin. 

“I know he’s okay. But head injuries are a completely different protocol and I have to—” 

“I miss you,” he reiterated. “And you’re working too hard. All the lights are off in the rink ‘cept for this one. Come back to my place. Let me take care of you.” 

“Why don’t you shower and change first? I’ll leave with you once you finish.” 

Bucky spun your stool around suddenly, one hand on your waist, the other reaching back to steady himself on the desk now at your back. “Oh no, don’t try to pull that on me. I get back in here, you’re gonna tell me you started something new you can only finish on the PT computer and you can’t leave for another hour. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

You let out a quick sigh, caught. “Well, what about—” 

“Nope,” Bucky interrupted. He used his far hand to shut the facility computer and then guided you up. “You’re coming home with me. You’re gonna sit in the car while I drive you to my apartment and then we’re gonna take a shower together and I’m gonna make you feel so good you don’t even remember what a concussion is.” 

“Bucky,” you chastised, hiding your face in his shoulder. 

His laugh shook your head. “Still so damn shy.” He reached down to grab your bag, slinging it over his shoulder and placing a hand on the back of your neck, meeting your averted gaze. “Just me in here, baby.” 

“I know. But you don’t have to be so vulgar.” 

“Vulgar? Sweetheart, if you want vulgar I’ll tell you exactly what I’m gonna do to you the second we—” 

You slapped your hand over his mouth, careful for the delicate skin there. Still, Bucky was sure you could feel his smile against your skin, and he fought back an even bigger one when he saw the embarrassed twist of your brow. 

Slowly, he pried your wrist down, kissing the palm of your hand on the way. “Sorry,” he whispered, not sorry in the slightest.

You pursed your lips, flustered. “You’re such an antagonizer.”

Bucky could do this every day and never grow tired of it. It had been months now and he found himself only wanting you more. 

“Can’t help it. I love you.”

Your faux annoyance morphed into a bashful smile, the kind Bucky remembered from his time faking injuries. It was reminiscent of when you were trying not to laugh at his jokes, or smile at his flirting, or give him any reaction he was looking for. 

But he always got what he wanted in the end. 

And, more than anything, he wanted you. 

“That one do the trick?” Bucky asked. “Am I finally getting my girl to come home with me?” 

When you looked up at him with raised brows and a smile twisted up at the corners, he knew you’d given up. Perfect timing, too, because—in all honesty—Bucky had been punched in the side during his on-ice tussle, and his ribs were starting to hurt. You were going to be pissed when you saw the bruise form tomorrow morning, but you would be pissed in his bed, so it was worth it to Bucky.

���I have to get a little bit of homework done when we get there,” you reasoned, pointing an accusing finger at your boyfriend. 

He threw his hands up in surrender, dropping one down over your shoulders as you both walked out. “Okay, okay. Homework at my place, I got it.” 

“That comes first, Bucky. Before anything else. Shower, then homework, and then… other things.” 

“I know what first means, baby.” 

“Good.” 

But Bucky had other plans, and they did not involve homework. He was pretty sure you were ahead, anyways. Like, weeks ahead, actually. 

“You eat dinner yet?” he asked, fishing his keys from his pocket. 

You looked up at him, incredulous. “What did I just say?” 

“What?” he defended, tugging you closer as the wind in the parking lot whipped at your clothes. “I can’t make sure my girl’s had dinner? What am I allowed to do?”

You only scoffed, tucking yourself further into his side. “Keep me warm.” 

“Always, baby.” 

[bigbuffjoonie]

I am floored. Wow. What a finale!! Now that’s what I call stranger danger lmao! I have never seen the show it was inspired from so I really had no idea what to expect! This was an amazing suspenseful journey. Thank you so much for your work! I loved reading it! 💖

Strangers (Chapter Ten)

Strangers from Hell AU

Series Masterlist

pairing: ot7 x reader

genre: yandere, horror/thriller

word count: 6.7k

warnings (lmk if i missed anything!): unreliable narrator, murder, mature themes, minor character death, obsessive/possessive behavior, emotional manipulation, stalking, bullying, violence against women, blood and injuries, mc has some self-deprecating thoughts, mc is lowkey in denial.

The day stretched on for what felt like hours but in reality was only about two before the sun had finally begun to set. The weather had been so weird, bright and sunny despite the dark clouds looming in the background. Something told you that the storm you sensed coming previously was finally about to arrive - just in time, too.

You had stared out the window of the hotel as Nayeon paced on the floor in front of the bed. She had been mumbling things here and there, reaching for her phone a few times before ultimately changing her mind. She didn’t like to be out of control of the situation, that much you could tell. You had never seen your best friend so stressed - not even during exam week - and you have to admit you didn’t like it. She had always been so sure of herself for as long as you had known her. If anything, this just emphasized the seriousness of the situation.

You’re sure you probably looked too blasé about the situation, a blank expression on your face as you rested your head on your knees. The truth was you just felt numb, having gone through so many emotions these past days already. This past month had taken a tremendous toll on you, the lack of sleep and stress finally catching up to you. You had no idea what the outcome would be after tonight but you found it hard to care. Jail almost sounded better than whatever awaited you both at the residence, but you weren’t exactly ready to go running to the police station right now anyway. Besides, you didn’t want to find out what Namjoon would do if you went against his wishes.

“Fuck it, I’m calling them.” Nayeon finally broke, picking her phone up off the bed and swiping at it.

Keep reading

[caffeinewitchcraft]

AITA for being proud of my job as a regional Nightmare?

My sister told me she’s making her own post and that if I was so sure I wasn’t TA then I should make my own so here I am.

I’m a regional Nightmare. I’m very proud of how hard I worked to get here. Not many terrors in their 20s get this high up and it’s because I do the work. I get up at 8pm and I’m out in the woods grinding out those quotas until dawn. Sometimes I sleep out there in my uniform just so I can be the first on scene for the multi-part jobs. I’m efficient, I’m punctual, and I’m committed. My goal is to be a Cyptid by the time I’m 30 and, to do that, I have to stay on at all times.

As a result, I work a lot. I’m often not home for days at a time. I have a very strict training regimen and my time for friends and family is virtually nonexistent. That’s why when I do get the time to hang out, I prefer to spend my time intentionally. What I mean by that is that I don’t want to sit on a couch when I could be lifting weights. I don’t want to chill in the pool when I could be volunteering for new scares. I especially don’t want to gossip over tea when I could be getting overtime.

Last Saturday, my sister invited a bunch of family over to her house. My job in the Virginia woods fell through, so I decided to go. Silly (her childhood nickname) said she had something important to tell the family so I thought it wouldn’t be a waste of my time.

Key word: thought.

When I got to Silly’s house, I was surprised to see so many cars out front. Our parents were there and our older brother. The house was packed. There were cousins, aunts, uncles and a ton of people I didn’t know.

At first the event was fine. Silly’s always been a good cook (see, I know you’re reading this, Silly, and see? I do compliment you when do something actually good) and everyone was really enjoying the flank steak (though I did have to save it before she cooked it medium well). But as the day wore on, I could tell people were getting bored. Silly and Mom were focused on cleaning up and said that dessert would have to wait until her fiance got home. Which was kind of rude to be late and I felt really bad for Silly. It seems like my soon to be brother-in-law (BIL for short) is never around when she needs him.

In an effort to help, I engaged some of the people I didn’t know in conversation because the party was getting a little dead and I didn’t want one of my sister’s parties to fail. I was trying hard not to think about the time I was wasting waiting for my future BIL so it also served as a distraction.

It turns out one of the guys was a fellow terror. He worked a corporate job and we talked for a while about the pros of being freelance like me. He asked me a lot of questions and I was happy to mentor another terror.  Corporate can suck the art out of what we do. My clients only care if the quota for their mission is met and don’t enforce such strict timelines. They come to me for quality. Poor guy barely had time to mend his uniform between scares (his cloak was tattered and his hook hand was rusty) so I recommended my tailor and blacksmith.

The guy and I exchanged information. I gave him my business card and he looked for one of his. While he looked, I felt nature calling so I headed upstairs to use my sister’s bathroom (like hell I was going to use the same one as my Uncle Joe). From up there, I saw my future BIL pull into the driveway.

 Being a regional Nightmare is a tough job. Like I said, I have to train a lot to keep my certification. So I thought it’d be a good idea to get a scare on my BIL both to punish him for being late and to make up for all the time I’d already wasted at the party.

So I waited for him to come upstairs to change and, when he did, I pulled out the works. I darkened the room and fell back into the shadows. Then, while he groped for the light switch, I stretched out my leg (I have an extra joint in them) and tried to nudge him. I honestly didn’t expect for him to trip and I DEFINITELY didn’t expect for him to fall backwards. I’ve been practicing this skill on my family since I was sixteen and got the leg extension mod and none of them ever fell like that.

My future BIL fell down the stairs. I panicked and raced over to look over the banister. He was fine! He wasn’t bleeding or anything and, when I saw that, I started to laugh.

Everyone freaked out though. They all said I was being immature and bullying my BIL. I told them it wasn’t bullying, it was my actual job. I said that I was just joking and didn’t know my BIL, a former “Cryptid”, would take it so hard.

My mom jumped in and backed me up, but my sister has always been the Queen of the castle. Silly and Dad kicked me out ( I mean, I let them, I’ve got enhanced strength and I didn’t want to hurt them). Dad called me a disgrace and to not come back home.

I asked him if he was really kicking me out just because I wanted to show off my skills a little? And he said yes. And Silly said I had it coming to me for a long time.

I don’t even know what went wrong.

 So AITA for taking pride in my work?

---.

SillyCreeper says: Oh my god, you actually made this post? You’re an actual idiot. For anyone who believes this story, read mine before you vote. My brother left out a few details like how the party was my GENDER REVEAL PARTY and that he’s not a regional Nightmare, he’s a  Slasher for hire.

OP replies: I am TRAINED to operate as a regional Nightmare. That makes me an independent regional Nightmare.

SillyCreeper replies: Regional Nightmares don’t steal failed missions from corporate Slashers

OP replies: Get your own post, Silly

SillyCreeper: Oh, I already did. Have fun being torn apart on yours, dumbass.

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Aita for going no contact with my brother after he pulled a Scare on my husband?

I'm working on this anthology during November and I'm having a blast with this story in particular! The family drama keeps going on and on