#can’t stop thinking about this au man….

[helenazbmrskai]

Road Fix [Lee Know: SKZ]

Pairing (Minho x Reader)

Genre (Mechanic AU, Smut, Small Town, Strangers To Lovers)

Summary (Your car breaks down in the middle of the road but thankfully there’s a handsome stranger to fix it for you. Giving him a ride to town you find yourself not wanting to just let him go.)

Rating (+18)

Word Count (5k)

Warnings (Sexual content, hitch-hike, dirty and oily Minho)

A/N: Cinema inspired me to write this, we all need some dirty mechanic Minho who fixes shit before he fixes you!

Stranded on 51st Street is not how you imagined your morning to go. With no signal and your car broken down, it looks like a ghost road that not many choose to pass by. You have two options either you wait in your car and hope that someone comes to help you or you abandon your car and start walking. Neither of those ideas appears to be life insurance as you can picture a dozen of scenarios that can go wrong.

You have grown up watching Criminal Minds so of course in this situation you can't help but think about the worst that can happen.

Before you can actually decide what to do there's movement on the road but it's not a car like you expected. It's a single silhouette, a man walking towards you with a backpack slung over his shoulder. His body grows bigger on the horizon as he gets closer but not that much as his form is not threatening the least as he has a lean body and slim build. His clothes are dirty and his hair is unkempt but even underneath those layers, you can see how handsome the stranger is.

"Do you need help?" He has an accent when he speaks.

You mentally debate if you should accept his help but in the end, you sigh and start explaining your situation. There's no guarantee that anyone else will come down this road and going alone to find a gas station is not a good idea.

"My car just broke down I don't know what's wrong." The guy listens to you, watching you from under his bangs. Thankful for his gesture to stop a few feet away not getting too close to your comfort zone.

"I can help you I'm a mechanic. If you want I can take a look." Relief floods over you at his friendly questions. He's not pressing or ordering you he's simply asking. Taking a look can’t hurt.

"Yes, please, and thank you." His kindness elicits a real smile, which he mirrors with a smaller one.

"No problem." He dismisses your gratitude as he makes his way over to the hood of your car. He opens it with ease, one hand on the car and the other looking around at the electronics. His nose crunches in concentration.

"I can fix it." You let out a relieved sigh when you hear it. He gets a few tools out of his bag and resumes his work. You hear clinking and twisting sounds occasionally as he works.

"All good. Try to ignite and see if it works." You get behind the wheels and squeal in happiness when the engine roars to life again.

"Thank you so much, you just saved my life!" You roll down your window to thank him repeatedly and he just shakes his head with a tiny smile playing on his lips.

"Happy to help. Get home save." The stranger nods as goodbye and starts walking again. You contemplate if you should just drive and leave him to walk but it's a long road and after he helped you you didn't get any creepy vibes from him and you will think about him all day if you don't help him out worrying if he's still walking. What if he gets kidnapped? You can’t leave him here.

"I'm going into town, if you want I can give you a lift as a thank you." You yell after him before he can get too far. The guy looks surprised but his feature morph into a polite smile.

"Are you sure?" He asks unsure if he should accept or not.

"I swear I'm not a serial killer and if you promise not to kill me either I don't see why we can't just ride together." Half serious and only half joking but the beautiful stranger finds the situation just as hilarious as you.

"Okay, thank you, and I'm not a serial killer so rest assured." You wait for him to get into the passenger seat before you start the car again.

"Honestly, if I were a serial killer this is what I would say to my victims."

He takes your humour with a stride as he laughs at your antics.

"Well, stranger can I get your name if you won't murder me?" You turn on the radio to a low volume so it can be a good background sound.

"Minho." His chuckle is angelic and despite the strange situation, you don't feel like you're in danger. Even though you know that charisma can be a bad sign but what can you do when you find him so attractive that you would let him abduct you? Well, technically you’re the one taking him away.

"I'm Y/N. Right, there are wipes in the compartment your hands must be dirty from my car." You offer and he hesitates looking down at his hands.

"Sorry for dirtying your car. I've been on the road for a while." You don't dare to ask how many hours he was walking all by himself before you met him. You might have been cautious with him but in his shoes, you would think about it twice to hop into a stranger's car. So you guys basically put your thrusts into each other.

"Don't worry about it. Just get cleaned up." Minho nods and reaches for the wipes you mentioned. First cleans his hands and then his face.

The silence is comfortable with the radio occasionally breaking the stillness.

You want to talk more but are unsure if you can ask him more questions since you're strangers but you're so curious about where's he heading or if he has a place to stay for the night. You wouldn't be able to just get up one day pack a bag and just get on the road after the first minute you would be panicking and thinking about where you will be sleeping, what will you eat what if something bad happens to you.

"You should be more careful. If you want to go somewhere just get a taxi walking alongside the road is dangerous." You can't help but voice your concerns.

"I-" Minho hesitates before his answer. "I don't have the money for that." He looks embarrassed to admit it.

"Where are you even going without money? That's very dangerous Minho." You know you shouldn't scold him but you can't help but get worked up at how irresponsibe it sounds.

"You wouldn't understand." Your hands tighten around the steering wheel hearing his hard tone. He has the right to be angry, you shouldn't preach when you don't know about his circumstances.

You take a deep breath before speaking this time. "You're right, I'm sorry if it sounded like I'm scolding you. I'm just worried about what will you do after I drop you off even though we don't know each other. I overstepped. I- just, you seem like a nice person and I'm usually a worry wart."

No one speaks after that for a few minutes. Both of you are lost in your thoughts.

"I got a new job in town. I have a lot of debt so I had to sell my house and car. This was the only way for me." Minho looks out the window avoiding meeting your eyes due to embarrassment. Anyone would feel uncomfortable if they had to talk about being broke so you try to not show much reaction as you know his pride would probably take a hit if he could see that you're pitying him.

"At John's?" There's an auto shop repair down the street where you live it's like a ten-minute walk.

"Yeah, how did you know?" He looks surprised at how you guessed so easily.

"I swear I'm not your stalker. It's a small town so there's only one mechanic shop there, it wasn't much of a mystery." You joke to set a lighter mood.

"Oh. It makes sense." Minho hides his smile behind his hand but you can tell that your plan worked at the end.

The three-hour long drive felt so short with Minho next to you. After the heavy topic of his debt and journey you talked about mundane things but as you got to know him better you dreaded parting ways at the end of the road as you didn't want the time you spent together to come to an end.

You know this is a crazy idea and you're probably out of your mind but you had to ask before he leaves.

Even if it's a small town your interactions will be limited to saying hello and polite waves before both of you go on your way and for some reason, you hate that.

You don't want to remain as the nice girl who helped him once.

He's handsome so many girls will try to get his attention, you need to act before them if you want to get a chance.

"You can say no if you find it uncomfortable but I have a proposition." You start feeling nervous as the shop soon comes into view this is your only chance.

Minho picks up your nervous jitters his full attention on you.

"So, what I'm trying to say is if you don't have a place to stay at the moment you can become my roommate?" You wait for his answer while holding your breath. It’s normal, you had roommates who were strangers before you met them. You're never this bold but there's something about Minho that just draws you in. He appreciates your weird humour and it wasn't awkward to talk to him like you're with other guys. He's so attractive and nice with a sharp edge and playful teasing comments that you're ready to risk it all for him even if you're normally a very logical and cautious person.

"I- wow, that's nice of you but I can't afford it for now. I can't pay you rent." The fact that he's not rejecting you outright is what gives you the confidence to try and convince him a little more. If anything he looks flustered by your sudden offer.

"You can pay me back later once you get your paycheck and I'm not letting you live for free you will have to help me around the house and honestly you saved me today so I'm the one who's in your debt. But if you feel uncomfortable I totally understand. You can say no but I only accept if the reason is because you think I'm creepy or something." You laugh at the end feeling nervous as you keep bubbling nonsense.

"No, honestly that sounds perfect it's just you're too nice y/n. People will take advantage of you."

Your smile grows wider as he frowns. "Oh, are you worried about me? If you're so worried you can just keep an eye on me."

"Alright. I will." Minho shakes his head with a light-hearted smile, you won. He can't say no to you.

This is how two complete strangers started living together. From strangers to roommates and now as you spent more time together considered as friends you started to feel something more than friendship that gets harder for you to hide, life truly takes unexpected turns sometimes.

Honestly, it's frightening how nice it is to live with him.

Before you met Minho your life only consisted of getting home from College and then going to work at the cafe down the street, studying or watching something on the TV before you fell face down on your bed exhausted and asleep.

Now he waits for your shift to end to walk home together, cook together on the weekends and watch movies to relax. Even if you study he brews you a coffee and reminds you to take breaks.

Even when you fight for the remote or just exist together after a long day, you're thankful that Minho is next to you.

"Your boyfriend is here." You bite your lip as Clara keeps teasing you but she's right about Minho waiting for you by the door as you catch his reflection from outside waiting patiently. The cafe is already closed leaving the only two employees inside are you and your friend wiping down the tables.

"He's not my boyfriend." You jab her in the ribs but she's unfazed.

"But you wish he would be. Honestly, I don't get it why don't you just confess? He likes you too. Not even my boyfriend comes to pick me up every day after my shifts."

You want to believe her but there's something that keeps bothering you. What if it's just gratitude? You helped him when he needed it the most. Maybe he's just thankful and you misjudge his intentions.

"He's just a good friend." You like to play it safe even if you're torn between wanting to tell him. It's easier to think that he's just doing these things for you because he considers you a good friend.

"You're so hopeless. Now get out, I will finish here." Clara takes the rag from your hand shooing you to change out of your apron and go home.

You put away your work clothes and grab your things from the changing room before you meet Minho at the entrance. Once more thanking Clara before you go.

"Hi." You greet the handsome man in front of you cheerfully.

"Hi, how was your day?" His smile reaches his eyes as you appear. His hair is dishevelled so you impulsively reach out to tidy it up. His clothes are dirty with oil and grease but you're not concerned with that as you close the distance.

"Good." You reply focusing on your fingers carding through his hair.

"You will get dirty." He warns you. Minho tries to keep you at a distance his hands hover over your waist as he catches himself before he can soil your clothes with the remaining oil on his hands.

"It's fine. I'm almost done." You never really cared if he was dirty you know it comes with his job. You perfected the art of getting the spots out of his clothes so it's not a big hassle if you just put your clothes in with his in the washing machine.

"You're weird. Normally girls would hate getting dirt on them." Accepting your nonchalance with defeat he places his hand on your waist at last as you pat the stray stands down. Your white shirt now sporting two big handprints.

"I can always wash my clothes." You reply with a smile. Carding your fingers through his hair one last time before you deem your work is done.

You step back and Minho lets go of your waist as you start walking side by side to your apartment.

"You look tired. Long day?" Minho nods rolling his shoulder as he slows his pace to match yours.

"We had so many cars to fix today. My back and shoulder are killing me."

You listen as he tells you about his day even if the technical words are flying over your head. It's a short walk home but you're able to catch up with each other, you complain about rude customers or tell him about school.

Neither of you had the energy to cook once you arrived home so you decided to order takeout and talk over the food as the TV served as background music. This is what a usual afternoon looks like for the two of you, relaxing and talking.

The only difference in mood got palpable in the air when you offered to massage his shoulders and back to help with his pain. You're thankful that he's showing his back to you as you have a hard time controlling your expression when he takes off his t-shirt. You knew he was fit but not the six-pack kind of fit.

You massage the muscle relaxant gel into his shoulders, you can feel each twitch of his muscle under your fingers as you spread it over moving lower to treat his back with the same attention.

"Does it hurt?" Unsure if the pressure is alright you ask.

"No, it feels good. You could be a professional masseur."

You snort at his overreaction.

You carefully work your fingers over the knots in his back and shoulders, you don't stop until your hand starts to ache from the use. You wiped mugs and made coffees all day that your hand already hurt.

"Thank you." Minho turned around to give you a lazy smile. You must have looked like you were in pain because he held your hand and rubbed your fingers to relax your hold. Your eyes grew wide when he put two of your fingers into his mouth. You could feel his tongue running over the tips.

"Heat is good for when your joints ache." He gives you this explanation after he pops your digits out of his mouth.

You look away afraid that your blush will give your feelings away.

"You're gross." You try to appear unphased as you rub his saliva into your pants but fail miserably as Minho smirks.

"But you like it." He gives you a wink not leaving you room to react he gets up to clean the plates from the table.

Sometimes his flirty actions give you hope that he might consider you as someone more than just a friend.

Peaceful days are the new normal with occasional slightly charged moments when you think he might actually kiss you but in the end, it never happens.

The unresolved tension makes you agitated. You don't know how long you can play this push and pull before you break.

Seem like Minho has other plans. At work, you get a text from him. He forgot his lunch so you agree to get some pastries and coffee for him.

Once your lunch break rolls around you get the food and make your way to the workshop. One of his chatty colleagues tells you where you can find him and you do find him under a BMW.

"Delivery for Minho." You say in a singsong voice and shake the paper bag to get his attention. The metallic clunks under the car stop before he rolls back, his body sweaty and dirty.

"Finally. I was starving." His smile is bright as he gets up. He looks at you sheepishly holding up his dirty hands.

"Can you feed me? My hands are dirty and there's a bathroom repair right now so we don't have running water at the moment." The first thing that comes to your mind is: that God must be testing you.

"Alright." You gulp. Minho sits down as you get the food. You bought a chocolate croissant and some raspberry twists for him. Grabbing the croissant you place it in front of his mouth waiting for him to take the first bite.

The position is already making you conscious as you stand between his legs.

Minho holds your wrist his fingers leaving behind oil marks on your skin. "Hey, no touching." You pull away, inspecting the grease he left on you.

"You can just wash it off at work. Come on, I'm hungry. You said before that you don't mind if I'm dirty." He's pouting, making ridiculous grabby hands at you. You can never win against him.

"Alright, but you can't touch anywhere else." Minho nods guiding you by the wrist as he devours the food you brought.

"You're my saviour y/n." Minho grins when he's finally full. He thanks you between sips of the coffee you hold up for him.

"You owe me Lee Minho, I'm here on my precious break to feed you." You're joking with no real meaning behind your words but he pulls you closer by your wrist.

"How can I ever repay the favour?" It sounds seductive as his face is inches away from yours.

"You look like you have a few ideas in your single man mind." You don't know what possessed you to flirt back maybe you're going insane after the building tension. There's no way he can't feel it.

"Maybe." Minho grins. His lips trace the line of your neck, dragging down on your skin breathing in your scent without really touching. He's seizing up your reactions, the spike in your heartbeat or the hitch in your breath when he finds your pulse point and latches on it.

"No marks I still have four hours before my shift ends." You warn him when you feel his teeth on your skin.

"Yes, ma'am." His smirk is pressed into your neck.

This time his tongue playfully peaks out wetting your skin, you jump at the wet sensation the hand that encloses your wrist tightens ever so slightly as a warning to stop squirming.

"Since my hands are dirty I can only use my mouth I hope you don't mind." You roll your eyes at how cheeky he is. As if he can sense it he bites down on your ear, making you yelp at the sudden pain.

"Stop playing or I will leave you here." You press your fingers into his shoulders, getting fed up with his antics.

"When will your break end?" He asks between kisses.

You look down at your watch with half-lidded eyes. "M-maybe 20 minutes. Why?"

"I can work with that." He nods playfully nipping at your neck.

"What do you mean?" It's hard to concentrate on the conversation with his lips all over your jaw and neck.

"I'm positive I can make you cum in ten minutes."

"Confident are we?" You scoff.

"Should I take that as a challenge?" This is not how you expected his competitive side to arise and it shouldn't be as hot as it is.

"You can't be serious. You're in the middle of work." You make a circle with your hands showing him around that you're standing in the middle of his workplace if he didn't notice.

"No one comes in anyway, if you can be quiet no one will ever know." Minho nips at the rim of your jeans with his teeth, laughing when you gasp in terror.

You push his head back but not before he can plant a kiss on the skin showing below your crop top.

"If you keep thinking about it we will have less time." He doesn't fight you pushing his head away as if he's trying to show you that he won't do anything that you don't want. If you say no you're sure he will back down but the painful part is that you don't want him to stop despite this risky action can cost both your jobs.

"How are you even going to do it? Your hands are filthy." Minho smiles showing you his white teeth awfully confident in himself.

"My mouth is enough, you don't need to worry." His shit-eating confidence is a turn-on and an annoyance at the same time.

"Fine but I'm not sure if you can make me cum in ten." You look behind you at the door making sure that it's closed and you sigh when you see it is.

"Relax." Minho dips his head down to kiss your lower stomach, pulling at the button with his teeth to free you.

You help him with sliding your jeans down your thighs but stops you when you try to pull your panties down and realise why he stopped you. He wanted to drag it down with his teeth, his breath brushing over your legs as he pulled it lower until you could step out of it.

You hang your clothes on the back of the chair so they won't get dirty. Urging you to take your place you sit down and obediently put your leg over his shoulder exposing yourself to the cold air.

Minho's eyes lock on your glistening folds his jaw tenses as he gulps. His hands are locked in a fist behind him to avoid the temptation to touch you.

"Fuck, you're so pretty." You blush at his evident desire to devour you. His arms flex as he tries hard to not touch you, you can feel the muscles in his back dance with the effort and when he moves your leg bends with it, making your stance wider for him.

"Wish I could touch how wet you are." You're getting more turned on by his dirty talk than embarrassed by how he keeps staring at you from his position on his knees. It feels like he's about to worship you and kiss the ground you walk on.

"Yeah? You're all talk and no action so far. The clock is ticking." Your smile is devilish, and your teasing is all he needs to finally part your folds with his tongue and taste you with a long lick.

"Set the timer, baby, because you're gonna cum in five." Minho licks his lips, looking into your eyes as he buries his face back into your cunt. His tongue flicks over your bud repeatedly, getting your thighs to close on his head but he's not fazed as he continues his exploration. His pink tongue runs up and down your folds.

The speed at which he moves is insane and it doesn't help that he occasionally switches to sucking and slruping.

You need to bite your lip hard so that you can keep your noise down. Minho watches you fight to stay still as his hands are still behind his back keeping his word of not touching you with dirty hands however you're past the point where you would care if he got you dirty or not.

The one thing that's hotter than his harsh breathing against your folds is the tongue that pokes your entrance with each descent. Expertly flattening his tongue for long licks and switching it up at the top where he sucks your clit between his wet lips.

If the space gets smaller as he fights with your closing thighs he just pushes against you harder until your legs part on their own giving him the space to work his magic. You're not in the mindset to count down the minutes but he does work you up fast. His mouth hanging open he watches you from under his lashes studying where are the spots that make your toes curl and find them again and again.

It's not just you that has to be quiet as he moans his little grunts sending vibrations through you.

You're close, he can tell by the shaking of your leg on his shoulder and the fact that you let out small moans between your fingers a little louder than you would have liked. Now he's focusing solely on your swollen clit as he pushes you over the edge with his tongue flicking over in circles.

You grab his hair tightly as you cum the other firmly pressed into your mouth to silence your cries.

Minho helps you through the high with slow drags of his tongue, his throat bobbing as he drinks down your essence. His licks slow down but keep up the consistency.

His lips glisten as he pulls back his hair dishevelled and breathing hard but has that satisfied look in his eyes as he regards you sprawled on his chair.

"8 minutes. Might just be a new record." You check the clock and can't deny that he made you cum fast.

Minho distracts you with kisses, his lips touch every inch of your thighs that he can reach as you desperately try to catch your breath.

"I think my soul just left my body." Raking your hands through your messy locks you try to move your legs that by now become jelly. Minho laughs at how cute you are, your cheeks are tinted pink in embarrassment as you need to slip your panties up your legs and cover your still slick pussy.

"This was just an appetizer, you will learn soon how grateful I can be back at home." Minho leans down for a short peck. Your lips shape a shocked O as he pulls back.

"But before I get ahead of myself I have a condition first." His tone is unusually serious as he fidgets with his hands.

"I remember tomorrow is your day off so I hoped we could go to have dinner that day. I'm paying and if you're wondering- yes, I'm asking you out on a date."

You're so shocked that for a moment your mind shuts down.

"Really?"

You ask dumbly. You need a moment to process everything.

"Everyone in town already thinks we're dating. Fuck that, everyone knows how much I love you. Except for you, apparently."

"You love me?" You repeat him like a parrot.

These shocking revelations just come out of his mouth one by one that you have a hard time following.

"Yes. I love you." His confession spurs your frozen body to take action and attack him with a hug that the momentum pushes him back as you two collide.

"I love you too." Minho lets out a sigh of relief he started to think that maybe he misjudged you reciprocating his feelings.

He hugs you back without realising that this is how he soils your clothes.

"Your break is ending." He reminds you even if he doesn't want to let you go.

"Right. I need to go back to work." You will do something about the oil marks later if you're lucky the apron will hide it until your shift ends.

"I will pick you up later." Minho grins happy that you accepted his confession, leaving you with one more kiss.

You try to get yourself occupied but the hours seem to drag on as you wait for work to end. Clara can sense your sudden agitation not to speak about the marks she put two and two together.

"Your boyfriend is here." Minho only grins when he hears it and you don't correct her this time.

"It's okay if you close up Clara?" She rolls her eyes, duh, she's the one that always closes and today is nothing different.

"Get out you love birds."

"Thanks!" You yell back before you leave with Minho, your fingers intertwined as you walk side by side.

[candycandy00]

Once Upon a Time - A Higuruma x Reader Fanfic Part 1

Retold fairytales featuring the JJK men! This is The Little Mermaid featuring Higuruma! You’re a mermaid obsessed with the human world, and in love with one particular human: the lawyer named Higuruma. You make a deal with the sea witch to become human, but you only have three days to win his love!

Read Gojo x Cinderella Here!

Read Sukuna x Sleeping Beauty here!

Read Choso x Rapunzel Here!

Read Toji x Snow White Here!

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. AU. Reader is a mermaid. Reader becomes mute. Light violence. Oral sex. 

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more and @drizztdohurtin!

The water gets warmer as you swim upwards, toward the light of the sun. You accidentally disturb a school of small fish, stopping to apologize even though they don’t understand your language. You hurry on, afraid you might be too late today. 

If only your sisters hadn’t delayed you. “Stop going to the surface!” they told you. They’re always scolding you, always giving you cryptic warnings about humans. They don’t understand. They’ve only come to the surface of the sea a handful of times between them, and you’ve come hundreds of times in the past year. You pride yourself in knowing more about humans than any other merfolk.

You break the surface of the water, feeling the glorious sun on your face. You only bask in its warmth for a few seconds before swimming over to the island, to the long wooden structures the humans call “docks”. There, it’s easy to hide beneath the boards and peek up at the people moving about on their lovely legs.  

But there’s one human in particular you’ve come to see. Every day he’s here at the docks for while, walking around, talking to various people. 

You dart around under the water, coming up every so often to look around for him. It takes only a few minutes to find him, standing on one of the wooden structures, talking to an aging human man. You swim over quickly to hide beneath his feet and listen to his conversation.

“I can’t thank you enough, Mr. Higuruma,” the older man is saying. 

“I’m just doing my job,” Higuruma, your favorite human, replies. “That contract was clearly predatory. I’m glad I could get it voided for you.”

“You don’t think the Russo family will retaliate, do you? My wife is afraid they’ll burn down our shop.”

Higuruma pats the old man on the back. “Don’t worry. They’ve never targeted any of my past clients. They try to work within the system to exploit people with their contracts, but I don’t know of them ever using violence. Besides, if they were going to go after anyone, it would be me.”

The old man seems comforted by this, but then says, “You be careful, Mr. Higuruma. You’ve helped a lot of people since you came here. We don’t want to lose you.”

Wait. Lose him? Does that mean he’s in danger? Your heart begins to race at the very thought. You couldn’t bear it if something happened to him!

He showed up on the island a little over a year ago, and you were instantly intrigued. He seemed so different from the other humans who lived on the island. He wore strange clothing, long black pants and a white shirt with buttons that looked far too clean. The islanders wore colorful shorts and tops. He seemed to struggle with the heat, making you wonder what sort of land he came from. 

Higuruma seemed more serious than the other humans you observed. He often looked troubled as he walked around the docks, talking to the various people there. He talked about contracts a lot, and you often heard words like “predatory” and “illegal”. 

From listening to his conversations everyday, you gathered that some people on the island called “the Russo family” are hurting other people on the island with their contracts. Higuruma is some kind of expert, and he came here to help people get out of these bad contracts. 

Everyday he‘s here, trying to help people. Once you understood that, your admiration for him only grew. And over the past year, you’ve completely fallen for him. 

You stare up through the cracks in the wood. He’s apparently already been here for a while today, as he’s already rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and undone the first three buttons at his collar. He wipes his brow with the back of his hand as he continues talking. 

Ah, he’s so handsome! Even when he looks like he might wilt in the sun. At your age, you should have already chosen a mate, and if Higuruma were merfolk, you would choose him in a heartbeat. 

Or, even better, if you were human…

No, that can never be. It’s something you dreamt of as a child, always wishing you could walk onto the shore and dance with the smiling islanders, that you could live in the sun. 

Higuruma stops speaking mid sentence, and you realize he’s looking straight down. You freeze, staring up at his lovely dark eyes. Can he see you? Impossible! The crack is so tiny! Just in case, you duck back under the water. 

With a casual wave, Higuruma walks away from his client on the dock, his footsteps making the wood creak. After getting back on the sandy shore, he glances back, at the space beneath the dock. 

Since coming to the island, he’s consistently had the feeling that he’s being watched. He at first thought it might be someone from the Russo family keeping tabs on him, but over time the strange feeling has become oddly comforting. He senses no hostility at all. Quite the opposite in fact. 

Just now on the dock, he thought he saw movement through the cracks in the wood. Was it just the water? He shakes his head to banish the thoughts. Right now, he needs to focus on his work. He has a very important case. 

A young family of four was targeted by the Russos, tricked into signing a contract that would give the Russos nearly complete control over their little upstart bait shop. They’d been naive, thinking the Russos would support them financially until their shop got started, in exchange for a cut of the profits. They expected a fair deal. 

What they got was the Russos controlling everything they did and taking over half the money, long after the shop became popular on the island. Higuruma has spent the past week reading and rereading the contract at night, looking for mistakes or loopholes. He thinks he’s found one, and will present his case before a judge tomorrow. 

He walks through the town, saying his hellos to the people who greet him warmly, and heads straight to his favorite spot on the island. 

On the west side, there’s an old abandoned dock. The small beach there is rarely used by anyone, making it seem like a private piece of paradise. For Higuruma, it’s his “thinking spot”. 

The sea breeze is warm on his face as he steps out from the line of palm trees, stopping for a moment to take off his shoes and roll up his pant legs. The sound of the waves lapping at the shore is rhythmic and soothing as he walks toward the water’s edge. 

He sits down in the sand, at the precise spot where the water will slide up to wet his feet but go no further, leaving his clothes dry. To his left is the shabby dock, its wood heavily damaged by age and weather. 

With a sigh, he leans his head back, looking up at the pink-tinted sky. It’s almost sundown, the time when he should be at home preparing for the hearing. But he needs these little moments of peace to keep himself from getting burnt out. He doesn’t want a repeat of what happened on the mainland. 

After a few minutes, he raises his head and glances out over the shimmering water…

And sees a woman staring at him. 

He blinks, rubs his tired eyes, and looks again. Now there’s no one in the water. Is he imagining things? If so, his imagination is more vivid than he thought. The woman was waist deep in the sea, and quite beautiful. 

He’s had this particular daydream before, thinking he’s seen a woman watching him from the water. But she always disappears so fast, he can only assume it’s an illusion, a trick of the light reflecting off the sea.  

Higuruma stands up and dusts himself off. He looks at the dock and wonders if he could get a better view of the spot he saw the woman if he walks out on the boards. How sturdy is this old dock? Surely it would be blocked off if it’s a major safety hazard, right? 

Walking carefully, he makes his way to the end of the dock and looks out over the sea, squinting his eyes against the glimmering sun on the waves. Seeing nothing, he sighs again, feeling foolish. As he starts to turn back, he hears the wood creaking behind him. 

“Hey, you’re that lawyer Higuruma, right?” 

He turns to see four large men walking toward him on the dock. None of them are familiar, and none of them look friendly. So the Russo family finally decided to make a move. 

“Yeah, that’s me,” he says nonchalantly. “Why? Do you guys need some legal advice?”

The men glance at each other, but keep walking toward him. Higuruma knows how this will play out. They’ll threaten him or rough him up, try to intimidate him into dropping the various cases he has lined up against the Russos. He’s never been the best fighter, always relying on his intelligence to get him out of trouble, but he’s not exactly a weakling either. If there were only two of them, he might have a shot at getting away unscathed. But there’s four, and they’re all considerably bigger than him. 

No point trying to run, not on this dock. Might as well take whatever they plan to give then. 

To his surprise, none of them try to talk to him at all. No threats, no demands, they simply begin punching him. He takes three hits to the face. From the same guy? From three different ones? He doesn’t know because he shut his eyes after the first. 

He feels a kick to his knee, taking him down, then several kicks to his gut, knocking the wind out of him. While he’s gasping for air, one of them shoves him off the dock and into the water. 

Higuruma can swim, but he’s never been especially great at it, and he’s never had to immediately after taking a beating, when he’s already struggling to breathe. 

He feels the waves tossing him about, at one point slamming him into one of the dock’s support beams. His mouth inadvertently opens, and sea water rushes in. That’s when he blacks out. 

When he wakes up again, he’s lying on his back on the shore. It’s nearly night, dark enough to obscure the person leaning over him. It’s a woman. The same one he’s been seeing in the water, and he can just make out enough of her facial features to see that she wears a worried expression. 

“Who… are you?” he croaks out, his throat raw from the salt water. 

She doesn’t speak a word, only moves away from him, so quickly that by the time he manages to sit up, she’s no longer in sight. Where the hell did she even go?

He rubs the back of his head, checking for bumps or injuries. His face and stomach are sore, but nothing else seems to be damaged. 

She saved him, didn’t she? 

You swim away at top speed, your heart hammering in your chest. You touched him! You let him see you! 

Interacting with humans, under any circumstances, is strictly forbidden! But when you saw him being hurt and falling into the water, you couldn’t stop yourself from helping him. 

It’ll be alright! He’ll probably just think he was confused or half dreaming. He almost drowned after all. There’s no way he’ll remember you. 

You stop suddenly, letting the gentle currents carry you. He’ll forget you. He’ll think you were a figment of his imagination. You know this is how it should be, how it has to be, but the thought still makes tears come to your eyes, leaking out to blend in with the sea. 

How you wish you could be human, so that you could run onto the shore and greet him, tell him how much you admire him, how much you want him to be your mate. 

Feeling a bit raw and emotional, you begin swimming again, eager to get back home. Until you’re stopped by two young mermen, twins with dark hair who look to be in their late teens. 

“We saw what you did,” one of them says, his face completely devoid of expression. 

“What?” you ask, pretending not to know what he’s talking about. If he did see, and tells anyone, you could be in big trouble with your father. 

“You saved a human,” the other twin says in an equally flat and creepy way. 

You frown at them. “I just dragged him to shore. He would’ve died.”

The two of them swim closer, circling around you. “Even if we see a human child fall in the water, we’re forbidden from helping.”

The other one chimes in, “Too much risk of humans discovering our existence. That’s your father’s rule, isn’t it?”

You look back and forth between them. Clearly they’re threatening to report this to your father. “What do you want from me?”

They exchange glances. “Us? We want nothing,” one of them says. 

“But you clearly want something,” the other adds. “That human man, perhaps?”

You look down sadly. “It doesn’t matter what I want. I can’t have it. I’ve made peace with that.”

“Have you?”

“Have you really given up on your dream?”

Your eyes shift back to their blank faces. “What choice do I have? He’s human. I’m merfolk. We live in different worlds.”

They finally smile, both of them at the same time. “Oh, you have a choice,” they say in eerie unison. “Come see our grandmother.”

“Grandmother?” you ask, confused.

One twin swims close enough to touch you, his fin brushing past yours. “People call her the sea witch.”

“But she helps those in need,” the second twin says. 

Oh. You’ve heard of her. “For a price,” you add. 

They both nod. “For a price.”

You would give anything to be human, to live in that world with Higuruma, but you’ve heard horrible tales of the sea witch tricking people into losing the things they most value. Still, you’ve also heard stories of people being satisfied with whatever deal she proposed. 

“How can she help me?” you ask. What you want is impossible. Surely it’s beyond even her power. 

“Come and see,” they say. 

You only give it a moment of thought before you agree, then swim behind them as they lead you to the witch. 

They take you to a sea cave, so deep and dark that you can barely see them swimming in front of you. The water is cold here, much colder than you’re used to, and there’s no current at all, making the sea feel almost dead here. 

As you swim further into the cave, you begin to see light ahead. Little bits of seashells are strung along the top of the cave, lit by some strange magic. It’s beautiful to behold, if a bit ominous. 

There in the deepest part of the cave floats an older mermaid with an unusually colored fin - a violet color that shimmers, reflecting the strange light. She’s staring at you as if she’s been waiting for your arrival, as if she’s known all along that her twin grandsons would convince you to come. 

“You’re the sea witch?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

“Yes, and you’re one of the king’s daughters,” she says, her voice having a bizarre echo in the cave. 

“I was told you can help me,” you say, eager to get to the point. 

She swims closer, and at this distance you can see her eyes more clearly. They’re absolutely haunting, large but empty and devoid of color. “I can help you help yourself. I can give you the tools you need to make your dream come true.”

You draw back reflexively. “You don’t even know what my dream is.”

“To be human,” she says. “To live with that man you saved.”

How does she know about that? The twins didn’t have time to tell her. Still… 

“Can you help me?”

She smiles. “Of course I can. I can transform your fin into human legs. After that, it will be your job to win the human man’s heart.”

You’ve already decided to take her deal, no matter what she wants of you. But just as a formality, you ask, “What’s the price?”

“Your voice, nothing more.”

That’s a surprising request. It will certainly hinder you in winning Higuruma’s heart, if you can’t even communicate with him. But love will find a way. 

“It’s yours,” you tell her. 

The sea witch grins. “Excellent! If you’ll just sign this contract, the deal will be finalized.”

“Contract?”

She holds up something, a glowing square that looks like a piece of paper humans write on. Words appear across it, and you read over them. 

“I understand that I have three days to make the human man fall in love with me. During this time, I will have human legs while surrendering my voice. If I succeed, I will become human permanently and regain my voice. If I fail, I will lose my human legs and my voice will become the permanent property of the Sea Witch. This agreement exists so long as my signature is on this contract.”

Ah, so you’ll either gain everything or lose everything. You’re willing to take that gamble! 

“How will I know for sure that I’ve succeeded?” you ask the witch as you take then pen she holds out for you. 

“With this,” she says, holding out a pendant in her other hand. It’s shaped like a heart, made of crystal, with golden trim. “As the human’s affection for you grows, the heart will turn red. Once it is completely full, you have won his love.”

You take the pendant, attached to a chain, and pull it over your head to wear as a necklace. Then you sign your name to the contract. 

The “paper” rolls into a scroll, and you take it as well. This is all done by magic, so you assume you’re bound to the terms regardless. 

“Take this,” the witch says, holding out a small glass bottle. “When you’re ready, drink this and your body will transform. At that time, you will lose your voice. I recommend getting close to the shore beforehand.”

You accept the bottle and swim away without another word, in a hurry to be away from this creepy place. 

You don’t drink the potion right away. Doing so would be foolish. Instead you spend the next day with your sisters, etching their faces and their voices in your mind. If all goes well, you’ll never see them again. That thought stings a little, as you do love them dearly, but you would never expect one of them to give up on her lifelong dream for your sake. So you won’t give up yours for them. 

When it gets close to sundown, you quietly slip away and swim for the surface, then head for the usually empty beach where you see Higuruma alone almost every day. You envision drinking the potion, gaining legs, and standing there at the beach waiting for him. It’ll be difficult to introduce yourself without your voice, but you’ll figure out how to convey your thoughts. He’s very smart, and should be able to understand you. 

You reach the shore and look around. It’s deserted as you expected. Higuruma should arrive soon, so you sit at the edge of the water and pull out the potion. The pendant is hanging from your neck, and the rolled up contract is in your free hand.

The potion shimmers when you hold the bottle up to the sun. You take a deep breath, then bring the bottle to your lips, downing the contents in one gulp. 

You feel it immediately, a savage pain radiating from your waist down to the tips of your fin. You collapse onto your back as waves of agony tear through you, as if your fin is being ripped in two. The witch never told you it would hurt so bad! 

With a gasp, you roll over, trying to crawl back to the sea. Something is wrong! She must have tricked you! But before you can reach the water, a stab of pain so intense that you think you’re dying shoots through your fin. You scream loudly, but the sound cuts off midway, leaving only silent horror as your voice disappears. 

After that, you pass out on the beach. 

Higuruma walks solemnly through town on his familiar path, his black jacket slung over his shoulder, barely looking up when people greet him as usual. 

His case didn’t go well today. The judge, who was always very fair before, was suddenly harsh and unsympathetic. Did the Russos get to him? It was a little suspicious that the judge had zero reaction to Higuruma’s black eye. Almost like he was expecting it. 

Seeing the disappointment and defeat on the faces of his young clients was the worst part. It reminded him a little too much of other faces, from other cases. 

He doesn’t plan to give up. There’s more than one judge on the island. But right now, he just wants to go to his private little spot, breathe in the sea breeze, watch the sunset, and forget all about today for those precious few minutes. 

There’s a thick line of palm trees and flowering shrubs that mark the edge of town, a line he must pass through to reach the old dock. He’s halfway through it when he hears a terrible scream. 

Was that a woman? It sounded like it came from the beach! Surely the Russos aren’t attacking random women there now! 

Higuruma breaks into a run, tearing through the trees as fast as he can, ignoring the shrub branches catching on his crisp white shirt. 

When he reaches the beach, he quickly spots a figure lying at the water’s edge. He rushes over, and is shocked to find a completely naked woman. He drapes his jacket over her and squats down, worried that she might have been assaulted. 

“Miss?” he asks, gently turning her so that she’s not face down in the sand. He doesn’t see any injuries, but she appears to be unconscious. Around her neck is a strange pendant, and in her hand is a rolled up piece of paper. 

He pulls the paper from her grasp, thinking it might be a clue to her identity or what happened to her. The first thing he notices is the bizarre texture of the “paper”. It doesn’t feel like paper at all. And the ink is even stranger. But most perplexing of all are the words written there. 

It’s a contract. But not a single word of it makes any sense. Trading voices for legs? Three days to make someone fall in love? It must be some sort of fantasy game she’s playing with someone. 

He rolls it back up and slips it into his pocket, then starts to pick her up so that he can carry her to the clinic in town. But just as he begins to touch her, she suddenly sits up. 

Higuruma is so surprised he falls back on his ass in the sand beside her. She looks around, then her eyes fall on him. They go wide, and then all at once she’s waving and making gestures in an excited fashion. 

“Hey, calm down, I’ll help you, okay?” he says, getting back to a more dignified position on his knees. “First of all, are you hurt?”

She stares at him blankly for a moment, then shakes her head. 

“Can you tell me your name?” 

If he can figure out who she is, he can take her to her family. 

She shakes her head again, then points to her mouth before shaking it once more. 

“You can’t speak?”

She nods. 

Well that’s going to make this a bit more challenging. Yes or no questions only. 

“Do you live in town?”

No. 

“Do you live on this island?”

No. 

“Where did you come from?” Shit, that’s not a yes or no question!

Before he can rephrase, she stretches out her arm and points to the water. 

… Huh? She’s from the sea? At that moment, looking back at her face, he realizes she’s familiar. She looks like the woman who saved him yesterday, the woman he’s glimpsed watching him from the water. Is this her? 

No, it can’t be. She just coincidentally resembles the person who saved him, if that person even exists. He was pretty groggy when he woke up on the beach, and he’s been stressed out lately. 

“You mean you come from another island?” he asks, thinking that must be why she pointed that direction. 

She hesitates for a moment, then nods. 

He wonders how she ended up here, naked on the beach. Then an unlikely but theoretically possible idea hits him. “Did you just wash up here? Did you fall off a ship?”

Again, she hesitates before giving a nod. 

That would certainly explain a lot. If she was trying to swim to shore, a heavy dress would have been a major impediment. Of course she’d pull it off to survive. 

Still, she seems awfully fine with being nude. She still has his jacket draped over her, but it’s slipped down enough to bare more skin than most women would be comfortable showing to a stranger. He’s been trying to avoid staring out of politeness, but it’s getting hard to ignore the lovely breasts peeking out, especially when she’s making zero effort to cover them up. 

He stands up and he holds his hand out to her. “Let’s get you to the clinic so they can check you over, make sure you’re not injured.”

She takes his hand quickly, an excited smile on her pretty face. He can’t help finding the gesture very charming. 

Just as he pulls her to her feet, her smiling face twists in agony and she crumples against him. He instinctively wraps his arms around her to keep her from falling. 

“Hey, are you alright? Are your legs hurt?” he asks, thinking she might have a broken ankle or some other type of injury that would be difficult to spot. 

She clutches his shirt in her hands and shakes her head no again, then looks up at him and smiles. What was that about? 

He’s suddenly aware that he’s holding a beautiful naked woman in his arms, and he feels heat spreading over his face. He’s feeling something else too, and hopes to god she doesn’t notice. This is definitely not an appropriate situation to be horny! 

“We need to get you some clothes,” he says. “You can’t just walk through town like this. If you’ll wait here, I can go get you some-“

She grabs his shirt again and shakes her head, looking alarmed. 

“You don’t want me to leave you?” he asks. 

She nods quickly. 

He supposes that makes sense. She’s probably afraid to be alone after what she’s been through. 

“The clinic is in the middle of town though,” he says, wondering how to navigate this situation. She’s still clinging to him, and he gets the impression she’ll fall if he lets her go. Maybe her muscles are cramping from swimming for so long. 

“I guess I could take you to my place and let you wear something of mine. I live on the outskirts so maybe no one will see you.”

She smiles brightly then, and nods. His jacket has almost completely fallen off her, so he readjusts it for her, wondering why he’s trying so hard to guard her modesty when she seems totally disinterested in it. 

Probably because he’s trying very hard to remain a gentleman. 

She hangs onto his arm and leans against him as he helps her head through the tree line, toward his small house. 

There are two feelings dominating your very being at this moment: elation at being so close to Higuruma and the utter torment of walking on these human legs. 

You had no idea they would hurt so bad. Do all humans endure this pain? No, you’ve watched them for years. You’ve never seen any indication that they feel pain while standing or walking. If so, how could they run and dance? Maybe it’s because yours are so new, or because they’re made from magic. You seriously hope the pain will subside after a while. 

But even if it doesn’t, you have no intention of giving up. You’ll take any pain if it means being human. 

You love leaning on Higuruma, feeling his warm body against yours, smelling his scent, hearing his voice so close to your ear. It seems so strange to have him looking straight at you after all this time of trying to avoid his gaze. 

He keeps talking about getting you clothes. You’ve observed humans enough to know that they cover their bodies, but you’ve never understood why. It’s just now dawning on you that being unclothed must be shameful to them. It makes you feel a little embarrassed. 

You know for a fact that humans take off their clothes to mate. You’ve seen them do it on the beach late at night when they thought they were alone. You’ve watched in amazement as couples join together, moaning and gasping in pleasure. 

Merfolk do not mate in that way, but they are very free with their affection for those they love. Mating is a completely different process, less intimate, though done with great love. You’ve always wanted to try mating like humans do, despite not having the ability to do so until now. 

There is one intimate act you could have done before, that you witnessed at the beach one night. A human woman got on her knees in front of her mate, opened his pants, and used her mouth to pleasure his mating organ. 

You watched breathlessly, growing heated even in the water, entranced by how much they both seemed to enjoy it. 

After that, you began to fantasize about swimming up to Higuruma while he sat on the dock and doing that with him. It was still an impossible dream, as doing so would require you to reveal yourself, but you could at least clearly imagine it. 

Now, as you struggle through the pain to walk while staying pressed against him, those fantasies are coming to the front of your mind. 

He stops at a human dwelling, a small wooden structure with only a few similar structures around it. The sun has completely set, but there’s still enough light to see the faded white paint on the exterior and the cracked blue door. After opening it, Higuruma helps you inside. 

You’ve never been inside a human home before, so you’re finding it very difficult to act calm. It’s so warm inside! Higuruma helps you over to some sort of large, soft seat and then begins turning lights on. You’ve seen the pretty artificial lights humans make, but you didn’t realize they have so many! 

As you look around in wonder, Higuruma disappears through a door. He returns carrying some clothes. 

“I don’t really own a lot of casual clothes,” he says as he hands the folded items to you. “I hope you don’t mind a T-shirt and boxers. I promise they’re clean.”

You recognize the term “shirt” from listening to humans for so long, but you don’t think you’ve heard “boxers” before. You unfold the two pieces of clothing and look them over. The “boxers” are apparently shorts. These are blue with red circular spots all over them. So he does have some colorful clothes! You wonder why you’ve never seen him in them before as you carefully stand up, trying hard not to let him see you wincing. 

He quickly turns his back to you. “Let me know if you need help. Uh, just bang on the coffee table or something to get my attention.”

You’ve seen humans dressing and undressing before, so you think you know how to do it. The only problem is keeping your balance on your new, painful feet. You sit back down and pull the shorts over one foot, then the other. 

Soon you’re dressed, feeling more human than ever. You wish you could find a reflective surface to look at, so you could see yourself in clothes. Will you look more appealing to Higuruma this way? 

You need to let him know you’re finished, so you take the few agonizing steps over to him and tap on his shoulder with your fingers. 

He turns, looks you up and down, and his face becomes slightly pink. “Uh, we should get you to the clinic, have a doctor look you over. I’m concerned about your legs.”

Doctor? Oh no. A human doctor might be able to tell you’re not human yourself. You shake your head, trying to motion with your arms that you don’t want to go. 

Higuruma looks confused for a moment, then hurries into another room and comes back with a pen and some sort of block of paper. He hands them to you. 

Human pens are different from what you use, but the writing system is the same. You write out the words, “No doctor. Please.”

He reads them and looks back at you. “Are you sure? You seem to be hurt.”

You shake your head and write, “Just tired.”

He seems uneasy, but eventually says, “Okay. No doctor. Is there someone I can call for you? Family?”

You think for a moment, then write, “No family. Can I stay with you?”

His eyes move over the words, then shift to your face. “I guess you could stay here tonight,” he says, making you smile. Then he taps the paper with one finger and says, “Can you tell me your name?”

You write it down for him and he reads it out loud. Hearing him say your name makes you feel giddy. 

“I’m Higuruma Hiromi,” he says. “Nice to meet you.”

You decide to write something else on the paper: “Thank you for helping me!”

He gives you a subtle smile. “You’re welcome. Are you okay with sleeping on the couch? I can get you a blanket.”

He’s gestured toward the large soft seat. So this is a couch? It certainly looks comfortable to sleep on. You nod and he steps out again, returning with what he called a “blanket”. It’s a big, soft piece of fabric. Oh! This must be something you cover yourself with to stay warm at night! 

“I have some work to do before going to bed, so I’ll be awake for a while. If you need anything, let me know. Feel free to eat or drink anything you like.”

You really don’t want him to leave, so you hurriedly write something and then tap his shoulder to stop him. 

“What kind of work?” your note reads. 

“Oh, I’m a lawyer,” he says.  “I specialize in contracts. I have several cases coming up soon so I’m going over some notes.” He pauses, then reaches into his pocket. “That reminds me, you were holding this when I found you. I know it’s just pretend, but in my professional opinion, you got a bad deal.”

In his hand is the rolled up contract you have with the sea witch. You take it, feeling panic rise in your heart. He read it?! Then he knows everything? Wait… he said it was pretend. So he thinks it’s not real…

You smile and nod, trying to seem normal about it, but you’re so distracted that you fail to stop him when he turns to walk out again. Left alone in the room, you sit back down on the couch. You pull the pendant from beneath the shirt you’re wearing and look at it. 

There’s a tiny little speck of red at the bottom! He’s starting to like you! 

After sitting on the couch for a while, you grow restless. You’re very aware of your time limit ticking down. You want to win his love right now! But even more than that, you just want to be with him. Would he be bothered if you go to him now? He said he’s working, but you don’t mind watching him work. 

Gathering your courage, you stand up and make your way through the room, toward the door he went through. You’re getting more accustomed to moving around on these legs. They still hurt, but the pain has become more bearable. 

When you reach the door, you’re not sure how to open it. He turned the knob on the first door to get into the house. Does that work for this one as well? You put one hand on it and use the same twisting motion he used. It worked! 

The door slides open and you get your first view of what must be his private room. The lights are dim, only a small one on a stick with some sort of fabric covering it, sitting on a small table. Higuruma himself is sitting in a chair at this table, several pieces of paper scattered across it. He looks up at you as you cross into the room. 

There’s a flicker of surprise on his face, and you notice for the first time how tired he looks. He turns in his chair and says, “Do you need something?”

You wish you could shout, “Yes! I need you!” Unfortunately that’s impossible right now. How can you express your affection for him? 

You walk over to him and put one hand on his shoulder. His eyes flick to your hand and back to your face. He scoots the chair back from the table and starts to get up, but you press lightly on his shoulder to stop him. Then you slowly lower yourself to your knees, just as you saw the human woman do it on the beach that night. 

His eyes widen. “What are you doing?” he asks, his voice almost a whisper. He makes no move to stop you. 

You stare up at him, hoping he can see the desire on your face. Your hands rest on his thighs, gently nudging them apart. 

“You don’t have to do this,” he tells you, perhaps thinking you feel indebted to him for helping you. 

You look at the table full of papers behind you. There’s a pen there as well. You grab it and hastily write, “I want to” on one of the papers. 

His face is slightly pink again. He swallows, then asks, “Are you sure?”

You nod emphatically. 

He hesitates, seems to be thinking it over, then sighs and mutters, “Fuck it, I’ve had a long day.” Then he opens his pants and pulls out his mating organ. 

Your eyes shine as you look at it. You’ve imagined it so many times, dreamed of touching it, tasting it, feeling it, that you can’t suppress your excitement. 

You reach out one hand and curl your fingers around the warm, meaty rod. It grows bigger and harder under your touch, surprising you with its size. 

This is new territory for you, but you remember that woman on the beach and decide to mimic her actions. You lean forward and give a tentative lick, right across the tip, then slide your tongue along the length, tasting his salty skin and leaving a trail of your saliva. After that, you take as much of it as possible into your mouth. 

Higuruma inhales sharply, his hands on the sides of his chair, as you begin sliding your lips up and down the shaft. Ah, this is what you’ve fantasized about for so long! Having him in your mouth is making your whole body feel hot. There’s a strange dampness between your legs, a sensation you’ve never felt before. Is this what arousal is like for humans? 

Your tongue rubs the underside of him as you push your head forward, letting his tip hit the back of your throat. One of his hands leaves the chair to rest on your head, his fingers gently threading through your hair. He’s enjoying it! You lift your eyes to look up at him while you pull back slightly, lapping at the fluid that’s leaking from the tip. 

His eyes meet yours, his breaths coming more quickly. You lick your lips then wrap them around him, tightening them at his base. You hear a quiet groan above you as the hot organ in your mouth twitches. His fingers bury themselves in your hair as his body goes rigid. Then warm, gooey strings of fluid shoot down your throat. You swallow it hungrily, remembering from the various couples you’ve watched that this happens when a man is pleased. 

You draw back and look up. Higuruma’s face is a little red and his chest is rising and falling rapidly. You carefully get to your feet and step toward the door, turning back only once to smile and wave at him. He looks utterly bewildered as you walk out and close the door behind you.  

[cowboygenesis]

11: super silver haze | kylo ren x reader

part 11 of the "bump it, cool it" series: masterlist. | playlist

pairing: [modern!au] kylo ren x reader chapter warnings: TONS of explicit language, loud arguments, smoking (weed) (like, a lot). word count: 6.6k series summary: when your roommate’s older brother needs a place to crash, you begrudgingly offer up your couch— only to realize he’s the most insufferable, entitled asshole you’ve ever met. the worst part? you can’t seem to stop thinking about him. notes: holy shit you guys. this was a doozy, but we're finally climbing the precipice and inching toward the long-awaited CLIMAX. literally kicked my feet and giggled writing this, so ya'll. i pray i did this scene the justice it deserves. please let me know what you think, and as always, thank you so much for reading and supporting me ♥

Now Playing: Sunday Sermon - Booker T. & the M.G.'s

The room rolls with warmth, heavy with the scent of grape juice and resin. As you exhale, a thin stream of smoke flows through the dimness, rippling with technicolor.

“And what?” Poe utters lazily as you hand him the joint, his dark waves kept neat with a headband. “ He said no?”

“Dude, are you even listening?” Finn reprimands from the kitchen, shaking a pot against the stove. The smell of artificial butter fills the room, making your mouth water. “He said—”

“Not like this.” you cut your friend off, sinking into your velvet beanbag with an exasperated sigh as you recall those forbidden words. You’re uncertain if it’s sentiment or just the high, but the pit in your stomach makes you nauseated the second you’re reminded of the party.

You flip your head to the side, lazily meeting Poe’s gaze. His lips curl into that usual, half-hearted smile while he ponders your predicament.

“Such a romantic,” he finally shrugs, and you can’t quite tell if he’s being serious or not. His smile drops, and he looks at you in question. “Can I say that?”

You roll your eyes and tug at the strings of your sweatshirt. The broad hood contracts, trapping your scowling face within. “Whatever.”

“Whatever?” Finn echoes as he reenters the living room, holding a fresh bowl of popcorn. He sets it down on the low coffee table before joining you and Poe on the ground. When you peek your nose out to eye the men’s curious faces, you realize you’re not hungry anymore.

“I think I’m over it,” you finally sigh, leaning back against the beanbag as your friends begin shoveling into the kernels.

Poe snorts, chewing thoughtfully as you withdraw from your hood. “You’re absolutely not over it.”

“Uh-huh,” you scoff at his denial, mindlessly taking the joint from Finn’s hand when he passes it your way. Only a charred nub is left, but you bring it to your lips, anyway. As you inhale, you cringe at the heightened burn settling in your throat. “I want to be.”

The man quirks a brow, picking unpopped kernels from his palm and flicking them into the plastic trashcan. “Do you?”

The question settles into your swirling gut like a weight, making you groan in displeasure—because, after all, you don’t know the answer.

After finding out the story behind Sienna, you thought you had it all figured out. Kylo’s arrival, his inexplicable moods, and why he refused to be anything but a massive pain in your ass.

Except you knew that wasn’t all. This innocent crush you developed on your best friend’s older brother eventually blossomed into something completely untameable, and now? You felt stuck between a rock and a hard place.

You craved the lingering gazes, the teasing, his bold touches. You wanted to be around him, become the object of his attention. But you didn’t love him. It was a strong, terrifying word that neither of you were ready for.

But you did hate him.

You hated how he’d treat you like a confidant, only to pull away just as you found joy in the position. How he smiled so wide, then scowled with twice the force.

You hated how he made you feel wanted, just to choose the other woman.

“When is he moving out, by the way?” Finn pipes up, knocking you out of your rumination. When you turn toward him, he gives you a raised brow. You must have been scowling.

“I don’t know,” you utter quietly, relaxing your expression to calm any suspicion. “He’s not made any progress.”

“Wait,” Poe shakes his head in confusion, leaning over the coffee table to reach for the rolling papers. “Remind me why he’s crashing at yours in the first place?”

You sigh, toying with the beanbag’s loose threads as your friend fills his plastic grinder. “He’s moving. Or, he wants to move.”

“Can’t blame him one bit,” Finn groans, leaning back against the front of the couch. “Can you imagine living with your ex after finding out they cheated? Seeing them every day?”

“It’s so much worse than that,” you explain, earning looks from your two friends. You bite your bottom lip, gaze dropping to your lap. “He walked in on them.”

Finn stops mid-chew, while Poe’s jaw drops in shock. He quirks a brow at you as if disbelieving in the disrespect. “Dude.”

“Yeah, dude,” you laugh joylessly, crossing your arms. The image of Kylo’s sunken features plagues your mind, replaying that same conversation like a hellish mantra. You’re unsure if the pit in your stomach comes from anger or sympathy.

“But, I mean…” Finn trails, scooping another handful of popcorn. “In their own bedroom, too?”

Your lips flatten, glimpsing into the distance mournfully as you nod. The two men shake their heads in joined disbelief.

“Christ,” Poe mutters, continuing with his new joint. “No wonder the guy’s such a jackass.”

“Poe,” Finn reprimands, making his friend raise his hands defensively.

“Sorry, but it’s true!” he utters dramatically, gesturing toward you with bud-stained digits. “No matter how bad you’ve had it, you don’t just… You don’t just get to shove your grief onto other people. That’s not how it works.”

A silence follows, filled only by the muffled sound of 90’s hip-hop emitting from a small JBL speaker.

You want to be mad, but inexplicably, you’re not. The pit in your stomach expands, blooming into something soft around the edges and gooey in the center. You know it’s not hatred.

“Oh, god,” Poe gasps dramatically, making you meet his gaze with confusion. “You don’t blame him.”

Your eyes widen, matching the frustrated scowl lining your features. You shake your head in denial, but it comes a second too late for authenticity. “Poe—”

“I think you might even be empathizing with that motherfucker,” he trails loudly, watching your lips tighten once more. You’ve got nothing to say in defense, and your friend catches onto that immediately with the emerging curl of his mouth. “Holy shit, don’t tell me—”

“Stop,” you groan, rubbing your face into the meat of your palms. “I’m serious, Poe, I can’t handle this shit ri—”

“Maybe he doesn’t want to make any progress,” Finn cuts you off, making the two of you stop your bickering and face him with quirked brows.

You sigh, curbing your frustration before speaking again. “Go on.”

“I think he means that—”

“What I mean,” Finn gruffs out, shooting a sharp scowl toward Poe, “is he wants to stay.”

The latter nods severely, eyes wide as he speaks through a mouthful of kernels. “With you.”

You scoff, head shaking as you scan their expressions. Somehow, the conversation has sobered you up enough to realize they’re not fucking with you.

“Nonsense, I mean—that makes no sense.” you chuckle sardonically, hands twitching at your sides. “Right?”

The two men look at each other knowingly, then you.

“I don’t know,” Finn shrugs, tapping to the rhythm of the song that plays. “He’s hot and stacked. I don’t see how he’d have an issue finding something suitable.”

Poe scoffs, licking the joint shut at last. “I couldn’t couch surf for this long.”

Just as you’re about to speak, Finn cuts him off with a burst of disbelieving chuckles.

“Dude, except you have,” he reprimands. “Remember your Eurotrip? Berlin?”

Poe sucks his cheeks in with a hum, thinking for a moment before facing his friend with a pointed finger. “Don’t talk to me about Berlin.”

You sigh, leaning into your beanbag once more. Your friends’ conversation melts into the background, letting you clear your mind.

“He rejected me,” you finally shrug, voice low. “Plain and simple.”

“In his defence,” Finn purses his lips, placing the plastic bowl to the side. You watch him shift onto the couch, hands locked. “You could interpret those words in a dozen different ways.”

“I haven’t seen him since the party,” you sigh in exasperation, flailing a hand in the air. “He’s completely MIA.”

Poe nods in acknowledgment, placing the filter between his lips and palming the floor for his lighter. The other man focuses on you, eyeing the nervous way you drum your thigh.

“Does Rey know?” he finally questions, making you knit your brows. As if.

“He doesn’t tell Rey anything. When he leaves, it’s a compl—”

“No, I mean,” Finn cuts you off softly, swallowing thickly as he ponders over an appropriate way to address the concern. Poe watches him curiously, burning the tip of the rolling paper off.

“Does Rey know about your…” The man on the couch begins anew, fiddling with his digits. “Problem?”

Poe scoffs between inhales, motioning toward you lazily.

“It’s not a problem, she’s just horny.”

“Ugh,” you scowl, feigning nonchalance as your cheeks burn red at the bold statement. If only it weren’t true. “Stop saying that.”

“What?” he taunts, bloodshot eyes narrowed as he curls his lips into a devilish smirk. “Horny?”

“Alright,” you raise your palms defensively, quickly rocking your way out of the beanbag. As you stand, the two men glance up at you with worry. “I’m out.”

“Hey, I was kidding!” Poe cries out, shuffling to stand up. He does so haphazardly, swearing under his breath as he loses balance and stumbles into Finn’s knee.

“It’s not that,” you explain quietly, the weight of your anxiety knocking all humor out of the situation. “I promised Rey I’d take her suit to dry cleaning. She’s got some company event next week.”

While spending quality time with friends was generally a great way to get over a dumb crush, you suddenly dreaded needing to answer more pressing questions. You needed air, stat.

“Is she out of town?” Finn questions, his sudden interest making you smile joylessly.

“For a few days,” you nod with a shrug. “Seeing family again.”

Poe mutters something under his breath as he finally stumbles upwards, meeting you with a wild grin. “So it’s just you and Kylo at ho—”

“Zip it,” you warn smoothly, pointing a digit his way. “I’m so serious.”

“Alright, alright!” the man raises his hands in a dramatic display of defeat, sighing to steady his posture. His face shifts into something more sympathetic, dark eyebrows high on his forehead. “Want me to drive you?”

“You’d be a health hazard in your current state.” Finn scoffs from the couch, earning a lazy eye roll from his friend.

“At least I have a license.”

“I’ll take the subway,” you reassure with a polite smile, approaching the foyer to grab your jacket from the hangers before another argument erupts. “It’s chill.”

Poe trails after you, one hand in his pocket while the other wields the joint. “Suit yourself, baby.”

You whip your head toward him with furrowed brows and a smile, head tilted as you slide your shoes on. Even in the most off-beat moments, you’re reminded of Kylo Ren. “Is that a Jersey thing?”

Poe quirks a brow, his eyes narrowing like he’s trying to interpret a foreign language. “I’m not Jersey.”

You shake your head with a tart chuckle, reaching to pat your friend’s stubble-riddled cheek. You lean back, issuing Finn a quick wave. “See you.”

You hitch your bag on your shoulder and walk out the door, hearing Finn snickering from inside. “Stay safe, you two!”

“Don’t make me come back in there!” you yell back half-heartedly, earning another fit of giggles from the two men before the door finally slams shut.

As you descend the staircase, your smile shifts into a deep frown.

୨ৎ

You watch the pristinely ironed pantsuit with narrowed eyes, peeking at you behind a thin layer of protective plastic. It hangs from the curtain rod, swaying in the soft breeze like a business-casual ghost as you lean your back against the balcony railing.

You inhale the bittersweet resin, letting it warm your lungs before hurling it into a swirl of smoke. The Meters play softly from inside the apartment, elevating your approaching high.

If it were any other circumstances, you’d reprimand yourself for choosing another joint over sobriety. But today was special.

You were mourning the death of your fixation.

On your treacherous way home on the subway, you thought about facing Kylo again. It was there, squeezed between two other passengers at rush hour, that you had reached an epiphany.

Even now, it makes your throat burn with acid as you strain your eyes against the doorway of your home.

While you haven’t seen Kylo in over twenty-four hours, something primal made you feel like the meeting was approaching steadily. Then, once it was time, you’d finally tell him your feelings.

You’d tell Kylo Ren you hated his guts.

You twist around, resting your elbows against the cold balustrade. Your quaint neighborhood lies just below, humming with occasional passersby. In the distance lies the heart of the city, looming brightly over the watercolor-stained horizon.

As you puff smoke through your teeth, the front door clicks open.

Your jaw tightens, eyes wide when you realize you’re left no time to prepare. The sun has just begun to set, meaning he shouldn’t be home for another few hours. You bite worry your lip between your teeth. This wasn’t at all according to—

You hear the rustle of keys being tossed onto the console in the foyer, followed by the deep sigh of a man shedding the weight of the day. He starts with his shoes, shoving them off by the wall. Then comes the hefty leather jacket, tossed haphazardly against the couch’s headrest.

Your eyebrows furrow, fingers curling tightly around the joint as you lift it back to your chapped lips.

Soft, measured footsteps come from the living room.

You exhale, watching the smoke billow into the air against a backdrop of blue and orange. The next breath, you hold.

The footsteps stop at the balcony doorway, replaced by a single, quiet hum. It’s all too familiar, and while you’re severely tempted to face him, you know it’d be a bluff. So you persevere.

“Good evening,” he calls smoothly. You’ve barely gone a day in its absence, yet the sudden reappearance of his hoarse baritone is enough to send a crisp jolt down your spine.

You extend your stiff arms against the balustrade, trying to remain natural in your silence. You think he’ll keep going and make a nasty comment about your half-hearted outfit or your drug habit, but he doesn’t.

Kylo stands there in silence, looming. You imagine he’s leaning against the doorframe with a hellish smirk, awaiting your next move.

But you’re so, so tired of the games. And this time, you want him to know.

“When’d you get so stuck up?” you bark out, head shaking to amp up the hostility.

Naturally, Kylo chuckles at your antics. The low, reverberating sound heats your skin and boils your blood, until you realize what you had planned to do.

Just as you’re about to twist toward him, the footsteps pick up again. You still in place, breath quickened as you feel his presence loom over your flank in a few, short strides.

You force your head forward, deliberately dodging his gaze when he arrives in your peripheral. Despite the blurry image, your heart thrums at the umber silhouette framing his porcelain mein.

Your nostrils flare as he leans against the balustrade, matching your position while maintaining an appropriate distance. Somehow, that very fact makes you all the more frustrated with him.

Pine fills your nose, and you clench your jaw. Instantly, your fog-addled brain is flooded by visions of the sidewalk, a half-finished bottle of whiskey, and Kylo’s lips so achingly close to yours.

And then comes the aftermath, with Sienna’s vixen smile and Kylo’s dreadful rejection. For a moment, you think you might hurl. That ought to prove a point, at least.

Then, you feel something brush against your knuckles. The movement is brief, and before you can turn to look, Kylo’s picking the joint from your fingers.

You whip your head toward him, breath catching in your throat at the sight.

The joint hangs loosely from his plush lips, trapped behind a bittersweet smile. The ember glows as he inhales, cheeks hollowing to drag the smoke out. His eyes remain locked on yours like two dark pools of oblivion, flickering over your face before he exhales. The scent of burnt resin and pine tar lingers in your nose, its warmth hitting you like a sly taunt.

Your fingers twitch at your sides. “I don’t remember offering.”

Kylo hums, tipping his head back.

“Are you avoiding me?” Kylo questions instead, his tone low and devoid of substance. Your eyes roll at the implication, already exhausted at having the blame pinned on you. If you knew better, you’d tear the joint from his hand, tell him to fuck off, and storm off—but instead, you dig your nails into your palms with a labored huff.

“Avoiding you?” you scoff as a trickling burn settles in your chest. “Some nerve you’ve got.”

He takes another long drag before passing the joint back to you. You take it from his hand slowly, prudent enough to keep a distance.

As you place the filter between your lips, you realize it’s still moist. You know you shouldn’t lose your mind over such a meaningless, juvenile thing, but the sensation makes you tense your abs with something indescribable.

“So you aren’t?” the man continues, and you sigh. Even if he’s just asking to torment you, you know that the quickest way out is through.

“No,” you mumble lowly, settling your gaze into the distance without a particle focus. “I’m not.”

Your answer is stern and simple, but seems to satisfy Kylo just enough for him to hum in acknowledgment. You feel him shuffle at your side, shifting his weight deeper against the balustrade.

“Are you upset with me?”

“You sound like a needy child,” you scoff again, but his question gets you thinking. While you wouldn’t use that particular word to describe your severely complex feelings toward Kylo, it’s a good place to start. “I’m always upset with you.”

He hums again, craning his neck to look at you. “Why?”

His voice is flat but not as empty as before. The lack of his usual dry humor lacing the edges makes you feel like there’s a semblance of authenticity to the question, yet you can’t bring yourself to give him that same courtesy.

Your eyes flicker toward him, taking in his lazy smile and lax eyebrows. “You’re a pain in my ass.”

He scoffs this time, nostrils flaring. “I think you like it.”

The accusation, albeit frivolous, carries stones into your stomach. You inhale sharply and turn away again, fists clenched tight as you brace to lie your way out.

“Then you’re wrong.”

Yet again, Kylo doesn’t trail on. The silence stretches taut, pressing against your ribs like a tightening vice. You feel his gaze on you, but he offers little else—no quip, lazy smirks, or lazy provocation. Something in your chest caves at that.

Your jaw clenches, and before you can stop yourself from turning the conversation petty, the words tumble out like sand. “How was it?”

Kylo’s fingers flex against the railing, lips parting slightly before pressing into a thin line.

“The party,” you elaborate, pressing harsh emphasis on the words. You can’t hide the bitterness in your voice, no matter how hard you try to fight it. And he notices.

“Why are you asking?” he shifts toward you.

Your stomach shifts at his bellicose nonchalance, voice snappy when it comes. “Why do you think?”

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, head steady as he fervently chases your gaze. You don’t give in, so he continues. “Maybe because you enjoy torturing yourself.”

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh, finally shifting your attention toward him. As usual, there’s little for you to go off besides the occasional twitch of his lips. “Just drop the games.”

He huffs, inching his gaze away momentarily. You watch his lips tighten, and he finally faces you with a frown. “Is this about—”

“Why’d you say that?” you cut off, but the regret settles in almost immediately. Your nails dig into your palms, eyes narrowed as you curse yourself for following your curiosity. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go.

“What?” he questions quietly, slowly, like he’s giving you a way out. And despite everything you’ve sworn yourself to abandon, the next words fall from your lips unprompted.

“On the curb,” you croak, feeling your throat run dry. You’re unsure if it’s the weed or the bubbling whine threatening to rise to your mouth. “Why’d you say that?”

His breath is shallow like he’s just taken a hit to the ribs. His knuckles are white where they grip the railing, and for a second, you think you see something split behind his eyes. But it’s gone in a blink, swallowed up by that same infuriating restraint he’s been showcasing since the dawn of his arrival.

Your chest rises and falls, your own breath just as unsteady. The night air feels suffocating now, dense with the buzz of tension that’s been meandering between you for far too long.

"Say something," you demand, voice sharp and crackling.

Kylo shakes his head, bringing a palm up to rub his face. His eyebrows furrow microscopically, leaving small divots in his pale forehead.

“You were drunk.”

Your throat tightens, a bitter smile emerging at the curve of your lips. “And you weren’t?”

He doesn’t need to answer. Kylo had been drinking, sure, but not like you—not in a way that made his actions foggy or excusable. He had been coherent, steady, and calculating as always; whatever happened that night hadn’t been a mistake of impulse. There was no convenient excuse, no haze of intoxication for him to hide behind like you have.

And the worst part? He didn’t owe you anything. He never had.

“Not like you,” he mutters. His chin drops, gaze flickering downward like he can’t fully bring himself to look at you, as if facing your expression might be worse than whatever this is simmering between you.

A shaky breath flutters past your lips as you stare at him, blinking against the strain plowing through your chest.

In some perfect, utopian world, this would be comfortable. You’d get a clean rejection—a firm: ‘No, it meant nothing’, and that would be that. You’d nod, finish your joint on the balcony, then disappear into your room to cry for a reasonable amount of time for someone grieving their heartbreak. Kylo wouldn’t follow.

Things would settle—return to normal.

Or at least, as normal as they were before any of this ever saw the light of day.

But as you watch him now, your stomach knots with something sharp and agonizing curling beneath your ribs. Your eyes track over the little scar beneath his eyebrow, the dim smudge of stubble along his jaw, and the way his hair falls in reckless waves you want to touch, if only to see if they’re as soft as you’ve always imagined.

This is your moment. Your chance to let it die here and pretend none of it ever mattered.

And yet your fingers twitch at your sides, aching to move like it did. The words slip out before you can stop them.

“And if I wasn’t drunk?”

Kylo turns toward you, his expression breaking open with the first raw reaction you’ve seen from him all evening. His brows twitch upward, eyes widening just slightly at the bluntness of your words.

“What?”

You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, inhaling deeply. The joint in your fingers has nearly burned itself out, forgotten in the poundage of your conversation. A trim loss in the grand scheme of things, you think.

“If I wasn’t drunk that night,” you repeat, voice enduring despite the wildfire bursting in your stomach. Every syllable is carefully weighed before you release it into the air between you, smoke curling from your lips as you watch Kylo’s countenance flicker between flippant, indistinguishable emotions. “Would you have done it?”

Finally, you’d learn whether Kylo Ren’s glances, touches, and his infuriating, insufferable behavior toward you had ever held any merit. If you’re particularly unlucky, he’ll return your advances. You’re unsure of what happens, then.

You stare into each other silently, breaths mingling. Anxiety prickles your stomach, coursing through your veins like a silent harbinger of doom.

Kylo’s eyes darken, filling with something you can’t fully interpret, before they inexplicably narrow with scorn. You taste bile.

“Don’t be stupid.”

Your stomach drops.

You think it shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. Kylo’s always been a bastard with cruel words, knowing exactly where to stick the knife to make it bleed the longest; yet something about this particular dismissal feels like a death toll.

The pang in your chest weaves through your lungs, squeezing and tugging like a serpent. A scoff tumbles past your lips before you can stop it. You lower your head, shielding your eyes before they can betray your falsified mein. “Right.”

You hear the sharp exhale he lets out at your tone, stepping from one foot to the other. When you finally glance up, his face is turned toward the horizon, the ascending evening sky casting its glow over his features. Warm, golden hues spill across the sharp planes of his face, bathing him in the coming of spring. Your heart swells.

And somehow, it’s that quiet pang of adoration that sets you off most.

Without another word, you pluck the spent joint from your fingers, flicking it into the plastic cup on the table.

“Is it because of her?” you ask steadily, watching the ember fizzle out in the shallow pool of water.

Kylo stiffens at the sharp edge in your voice, his jaw tightening as he angles his head toward the sky. You watch the muscles in his throat shift as he swallows thickly, face cast in light and shadow.

“No,” he finally croaks out, voice low and treacherous as your heart threatens to give out. “No—No, I was—”

“Then why?” You cut him off impatiently, voice breaking under the heavy weight of his ignorance. Pulled in too many directions at once, your chest aches with the pressure pulse of a frenzied drum against your ribs. “Why do you keep doing this?”

Kylo inhales sharply through his nose, fingers clenching into fists at his sides. He doesn’t look at you, his gaze locked somewhere in the distance, and judging by the way his nostrils flare, you know he’s just as furious as you are.

“It’s complicated.”

A bitter, disbelieving laugh bubbles up from your throat at the banal excuse. “Why? It doesn’t have—”

“But it is.” his voice is unyielding now, laced with a cold that prickles your skin.

You watch him with parted lips, his eyes flickering over your features with something you pray isn’t contempt.

He huffs, leaning his stiff shoulders against the railing.

“You don’t fucking know me.”

The words punch the air from your lungs, making you inhale sharply. You swallow, trying to fight the emerging sting behind your eyes as the self-pity within you shifts into a trembling fire of disdain.

"I just want the truth,” you mumble, voice flattening with impatience.

He looks at you with curiosity, but the tone of his reply simmers with an undeniable edge of contempt. "I gave you the truth."

"No,” you reply through a joyless chuckle, head shaking at his apparent stupor, “you gave me scraps. You gave me riddles and half-answers and the bare fucking minimum."

You watch his lips press together, eyes unmoving as a looming shadow. His secrecy has always driven you mad, but now? It feels like you’re at your wit’s end.

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his dark curls. They cascade down his neck, a stray lock falling into his face to frame the acerbity of his mein. "I told you it's complicated."

Your stomach twists, urging you to push harder. He wouldn’t get to play with you like that without a proper explanation, even if it meant the end of your non-friendship.

"Bullshit!” you hiss, voice laced with venom and an essence of doubt. You pause for a beat, surveying him through half-lidded eyes and taking in the lackluster expression painting his face. Your forehead pulsates. “You’re a coward, Ren."

His eyes snap to yours, dark and perilous at your daring proclamation. He scavenges your body from head to toe, sizing you up like a predator does his prey.

"Careful."

"Or what?" you spit through a scoff, pushing off the balustrade and raising your arms in a losing battle. "You’ll push me away?”

His jaw clenches. You catch his nostrils flare, fingers twitching.

“Because news flash, Kylo.” you trail bitterly, voice edging toward a strained yell. He watches you with surprising patience, dark pupils mirroring the brilliant sky. “You already fucking did."

His throat bobs as he swallows, body going wooden like he’s pushing himself to keep still. His fingers twitch again���like he wants to grab you, shake you, do something to break this damned tension once and for all.

Instead, he lets out a quiet, humorless laugh. “You act like I had a choice.”

Your jaw tightens, watching him with utter incredulity. While your belly rumbles with anger, you know that to a certain extent, you can’t deny his words. You don’t know much beyond the fact that he was cheated on and forced to live with his estranged sister. You’ve never known the details of his situation, or what keeps him coming back to the woman who irrevocably betrayed his trust.

He’s right.

You don’t know him.

Yet, that can’t keep you from probing for answers.

“Didn’t you?” you utter breathlessly, making his lip curl just enough to infuriate you further. He shakes his head, shooting you a cold scowl.

“Right, of course,” he scoffs, folding his arms as he faces you, “You know everything.”

You exhale in disbelief, planting your fists against your hips. “I know enough to know you’re being a fucking idiot about this.”

He exhales sharply through his nose, looking off to the side like he’s trying to physically restrain himself from saying something much worse. “Sure you do.”

“Oh, fuck off, Kylo,” your laugh is sharp and humorless when it leaves your lips. “You love talking in circles, don’t you? Like if you’re vague enough, you can get away with whatever the fuck you want.”

He finally turns back to you, empty expression betraying his otherwise razor-sharp tone. “God, why do you have to make everything about yourself?!”

Your arms drop to your sides as a sore chuckle escapes your throat. “Right. Because this has nothing to do with me.”

He shakes his head wildly, regurgitating a strained, joyless chuckle amidst the spread of his arms. “No! It really doesn’t!”

Your mouth cracks open at his careless expression, tone dropping an octave in a challenge. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he continues asceribly, shifting side to side. “You’re always so fucking dramatic. Not everything is about you and yours! And—and if you’d just—”

“Oh, I’m dramatic?” Your voice pitches higher as you gesture wildly between the two of you. “You’re the one who starts shit and then gets pissed when I have the nerve to bite back!”

Kylo’s tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek, his patience wearing thin with every word you utter. You hear him mumble something before facing you with a strained gust. His sudden calmness scares you more than the initial storm.

“I start shit?”

Kylo takes a step forward, and instinctively, you take one back. You can feel the cool metal of the balcony railing pressing into your lower back, but you refuse to let that stop you. You wouldn’t back down from this, even if it meant getting your ass handed to you.

You cross your arms over your chest, chin lifting defiantly. “Yes, Kylo. You do.”

His eyes flicker over your stance, his lips twitching slightly like he’s resisting the urge to smirk—like this is all just some fucking game to him, while you’re over the precipice of losing your mind.

“You always do.”

He cocks his head, expression flat but demanding. The sardonic smirk emerging at the corners of his lips is hilariously ironic, like he’s proving your point without trying.

“Anything else?” he huffs with fabricated lethargy, striking you with a sharp glare.

Oh, fuck no.

Your breath shudders as the turmoil bubbles over, burning your throat as the words spill out.

“Yeah.” You exhale sharply, hands clenching into tight fists, though you’ve got nothing. Your body trembles with adrenaline, urging you to spit acid in any way you can. “Would it kill you to treat me with human decency?”

Kylo scoffs loudly, tilting his head back like the idea alone is too much for him to entertain.

“Right.” He takes another step closer, eyes hooded. “Because you’re such a sweet, innocent angel.”

Despite the venom lacing his tone, his choice of words makes your thighs squeeze. It’s an instinctive reaction that makes you shake your head, lips parting in utter disbelief.

“At least I try.” Your voice is sharp, eyes burning into his. You push forward, ignoring the heat rising in your body. “But—but every time I want to be a friend, you—”

“God—Will you fucking stop that for once?” Kylo snaps, cutting you off with harsh, unfriendly laughter.

Your brows knit together, lips hanging ajar at his hasty defiance. Your eyes scan across his features, taking in the odd glint in his eyes. Everything around you simmers with heat.

“What?”

He shakes his head incredulously, raking a hand through his hair again. When he speaks, his voice is tighter than ever, loud and final like a stray bullet.

“Trying—trying to act like we’re fucking friends.” He gestures vaguely between you, devoid of tenderness. He meets your gaze, eyebrows low on his forehead as he hisses your name. “We’re not friends. Never will be. At best, we tolerate each other, and even that comes with its shitty fucking surprises.”

Your heart slams in your chest, pulsating in your ears. Your mouth moves before your brain has the chance to catch up, filling the buzz of your sermon with unforgiving bite.

“God forbid someone gives a shit about you.”

Kylo’s expression blackens. His whole body stiffens a margin, towering above you like a rage-filled statue splayed in hues of orange and red. His scowl says it all. You know you’ve hit a nerve before he even utters.

But then he leans in, barking through gritted teeth and a labored breath:

“I don’t fucking need you to.”

Your breath catches harshly, scraping your vocal cords. You force yourself to hold his gaze. Heat and electricity simmer between you, raising the thin hairs at the back of your neck.

You moisten your lips, meeting the man’s gaze with half-lidded eyes. Pressure builds within your chest, fluttering through your arms and legs like a powerful, undeniable current.

“Good,” you start quietly, toying an ill-tempered smile against your lips, “Because I don’t.”

You take a step forward, straightening your back and sizing him up. He watches keenly, nostrils flaring as you poke a digit into the firm plane of his ribs. Kylo’s breath stutters, his chest rising and falling in quick, erratic beats.

You lean in, your voice faint, razor-thin, and laced with a fatal malignancy.

“I fucking hate you, Ben.”

Birds cry into the setting sun, cars honking in the distance while Shuggie Otis croons through the speakers inside. A soft spring breeze blows through the balcony, tousling Kylo’s dark locks as he peeks at you through dark lashes.

A bitter smile curves at the edge of his mouth, taunting you as always.

“Say it again.” He murmurs, unhurried and nearly cruel.

Your pulse slams against your ribs, matching the beat of percussion. His eyes are locked onto yours, dark and penetrating with this simple, impossible dare.

You swallow thickly, shifting your digit into a full palm. It lingers against his chest, sinking into the rhythmic thrum as you furrow your brows, bearing a fearless step closer.

You flare your nostrils, pushing up slightly onto your toes.

“Kylo,” you trail quietly, his breath hot and moist on your cheeks. You part your lips, trembling, preparing to nail the coffin shut forever under the slow, percolating flicker of his eyes as they survey your eyes, cheeks, the parting of your lips.

He hums. Your heart roars beneath your ribs, pleading in agony.

“I hate y—”

Kylo’s lips crash hungrily onto yours.

His hands gently clamp around your jaw, fingers threading into your scalp as his mouth slants over yours for easier access. The air between you vanishes, swallowed by the sharp, heady collision of lips and teeth scraping in a desperate dance.

The taste of him floods your senses with resin, smoke, and something hauntingly sweet and tender that you lap up with discomfiting greed. He nips at your bottom lip, pulling and kissing.

Your fingers curl into the soft fabric of his shirt instinctively, nails scraping against his chest as you push up against him—desperate and thoroughly enraged at the audacity of his measures.

A groan tumbles deep within his throat, low and sultry as it vibrates against your tongue. His grip tightens, pulling and all-consuming, like he wants nothing more than to brand you with his touch.

And for a moment, you think you’ll let him.

“Kylo,” you mewl, feeling his large hands roam over your cheek and neck. It snakes to your waist, inching under your tank top and splaying over the small of your back.

“Shh,” he hushes, his mouth sloppily ghosting along your jaw, then down the column of your throat. His teeth graze against your skin, lips chasing the mark with something almost worshipful. His palm slides higher beneath your shirt, fingertips grazing your ribcage, coaxing a shudder from your body as he holds you tightly against the railing.

You whimper softly, throwing an arm around his neck and leaning your head back to grant him access.

You should stop this, you think—push him away. But instead, your fingers tangle in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, greedily wanting to feel more of him.

Until something shifts.

You’re caught up with his hold on you; like a porcelain doll, delicate and too precious to allow a break. His breath stutters when his lips brush over your pulse like he’s breathing new life, unraveling something irrevocably powerful.

It feels like giving in.

And suddenly, your resolve crumbles into nothing. Your body washes over with palpitating regret, urging your breath to catch at his tender nipping as he bucks his hips into yours.

Your hands flatten against his chest. “Kylo—”

He slows, lips lingering near your collarbone. His breath is heavy and warm against your skin as you give him a push, eliciting a soft moan from his plush lips.

A second passes. Then another.

He pulls back, dark eyes searching yours, obscured by something mildly animalistic. His grip loosens, sliding away from your body like he’s afraid of what he might do if he lingers.

The space between you stretches with a crackling silence. The city beyond hums with life, but all you can hear are your heavy breaths intermingling, lingering with the taste of each other.

You take a step back. Your throat tightens with the thousand things you want to say.

“I can’t,” is all you can utter, the whisper barely audible over the pounding in your ears.

Kylo exhales sharply, running a trembling hand through his disheveled hair. His lips are swollen with the semblance of your kiss, eyes burning with a plunging, living fire that penetrates your heart like hot daggers.

He calls your name. The word is sweet and languid on his tongue, lined with the kind of softness you’ve never been the fortunate prey of. His hand tenses mid-air, fingers flexing at the devastating sight of your gaze sinking away from his.

And then, without another word, you turn and slip inside, leaving him alone in the woeful finale of your favorite song.

[carmelves]

snippets of fics I'll never finish: 5/?

Context: this is an au of the ending of Sylus's myth, where MC is more of an actual sorceress. She travels to the afterlife to bring Sylus back, Orpheus and Euridice style, passing through a series of trials, including the following dive into his childhood memories. I don't think it's mentioned in this section, but he's about 11 here

He’s light on his feet, an echo of the deadly elegance he’ll someday possess hidden inside gangly limbs, and you struggle to keep up as he slips into the forest, weaving between trees with the grace of a born predator. It’s only the red of his shirt, the glint of sunlight in his bright hair, that allows you to keep sight of him. Eventually, you emerge into a clearing beside a pond just in time to see him drop to his knees beside the water, leaning over to look at his reflection. Slender fingers probe through his hair, parting it to reveal a tiny black nub. 

The beginning of a horn. 

“No, no!” he whispers harshly. “I told you to stay away!” He sits back, hands clutching his hair, breaths coming fast and heavy. With one shaky hand, he reaches down to grab the knife from his belt. It’s a small thing, a boy’s knife intended for gutting fish and whittling sticks, but its blade gleams wickedly sharp in the sunlight. From your position, frozen at the edge of the treeline, you can’t see his face but you can see the deep breath he takes, the way he squares his shoulders as he raises the knife to his horn.

“Stop!’ you can’t stand by anymore, watching this boy, this echo of the man you’ll someday love, hurt himself. You emerge from the trees, taking a few steps towards him.

He’s on his feet in an instance, knife pointed straight at you. His eyes narrow. “Who are you?”

You raise your hands placatingly. “Doesn’t matter, I’m not going to hurt you. Will you put down the knife?”

His shoulders tense, and he doesn’t change positions. “You saw, didn’t you?”

You nod.

“Tell anyone and I’ll kill you.” His voice shakes but the point of the knife is steady. “I’ll eat your soul. I’m a monster, it’s what we do.”

“You’re not a monster.” you keep your voice soft, posture unthreatening. What an irony it would be to survive doomsday, your own execution, the rampages of a half-mad dragon, only to be killed by the child version of the man you’re trying to save. “And I’m not going to tell anyone.”

“I don’t believe you.”

You shrug helplessly. “Okay, fine. It’s the truth, though.” You walk around him, keeping a wide berth, and sit down by the edge of the pond, dangling your bare feet in the water. They’re scraped and battered from your chase through the woods, and the cool water feels soothing. You sigh in relief, closing your eyes, though you remain tense, ready to fight back if he decides to actually attack you. After a moment of silence, soft footsteps approach you.

“Why are you here?”

You ignore the question, looking up at him. “It’s too bad you have to keep cutting the horns off. They’re pretty.”

He scoffs, sitting down a few feet from you. “They’re horrible.” He hugs his knees to his chest, the knife still gripped in his hand as he looks over at you with suspicion. Your heart clenches when you notice how his pants are just slightly too short, revealing a few inches of bony ankle. “...you’re really not gonna tell?”

“Why would I? The Judicators are a bunch of puffed up hypocrites. They don’t deserve anything, let alone you.”

He snorts, glaring into the pond. After a moment, one hand comes up to lightly touch his horn. It’s grown slightly in the few minutes you’ve been sitting here, now long enough to poke above his hair. “They aren’t pretty. They’re horrible and ugly and if anyone knew, they’d kill me.”

“They could try,” you respond softly, thinking of Sylus’s words. One hundred and eight attempts on his life, all failed. Only you, against your will, had succeeded. You reach out and gently run a finger along the length of his horn. He shudders, eyes falling closed before he tenses, batting your hand away.

“Stop it. Don’t touch me.”

You raise your hands in surrender. “Alright. But is this your plan for the rest of your life? Just to keep cutting off parts of yourself and hoping no one notices?”

“What else can I do?” he says harshly. “All the other dragons are dead. If I can’t hide what I am, I will be too.”

“You could leave. Go where nobody can find you, where you can be yourself.”

He just hunches over, tightening his arms around his legs, staring out over the pond. You think of the way his eyes practically glowed when the woman in the market had praised him. How even as an adult jaded by centuries of suffering, he tolerated your chatter, let you drag him through markets and taverns, a smile tugging on the corner of his mouth only to be quickly hidden whenever you glanced at him. The kitten that had showed up in the cave. 

He wasn’t built for solitude. 

You sigh, knowing it’s futile to give him advice. You know exactly how his story ends, that the boy in front of you is nothing more than a memory, but still… a part of you yearns to take him away, show him a life that isn’t full of pain and fear. 

“Things will get better,” you say softly. “Not for a long time, but... but someday somebody’s going to see your horns and tail and love you anyway.”

He stares at you, eyes wide in his soft, childish face. To your utter shock, you see tears gathering in the corners. He wipes them away harshly with the back of his hand, turning away from you. “Shut up, you can’t know that, you don’t know anything.” He sniffs, shoulders shaking with repressed emotion. 

You can only stare. You’d never had to comfort a crying child before. You’d never dreamed that Sylus would cry, let alone in front of you. Death threats, you’d expected. Anger, biting sarcasm, feigned indifference… but tears? You hesitantly place a hand on his shoulder, ready for him to lash out but he leans into it instead. You shuffle closer, putting your arm around his shoulders, and he leans his head against you. The small, sharp horn pokes your arm, but you make no effort to move. 

“Sy- Stayrus, I promise you that things will turn out alright. Remember that, okay? Things will be alright in the end.”

[mollywog]

Hi!

I can't stop thinking about this scenario i'm your complicated universe:

Burdock is now showing off his granddaughter.

Thank you for letting me know: I’m so tickled!! It inspired me to write a small addition.

For context, Complicated is an in-Panem AU where Mr. Everdeen lives and this would have happened anyway happens much sooner.

Shout out to all who suggested names for the Toastbaby girl for this universe!

Haymitch first saw the girl at the Hob when she was just a baby. Burdock was so proud of her, toting her everywhere. Katniss soon outgrew his arms, trailing behind him with her own scrawny squirrels on her belt, until she was striding beside him with just as much to show as her old man.

They’d never mended the old wound, he and Burdock, but he still paid particular attention to the Everdeens. That way, if Lenore Dove’s ghost ever came to him, he’d be able to tell her of her kin— at least that’s what he told himself.

And recently there’d been a new branch added to the family tree.

Haymitch had watched the girl— Katniss, over the last several months as her belly’d swelled near splitting, until he’d worked himself up worrying it’d be twins— but then he’d learned the father was one of Otho’s boys and her size had made sense.

He’s heard she delivered— a healthy little girl, but it’s just luck that he’s at the Hob today when Burdie arrives, his bundle in tow.

He doesn’t see her right away, just the unmistakable pride on his old friend’s face as he introduces her around.

Haymitch has no reason to linger, his business with Ripper complete, but he can’t resist the urge to get a peek of the girl and any information he can glean, so he sidles up to Sae’s stall and sits at the booth. He ignores the old woman’s raised brow, carelessly pulling a fistful of coins from his pocket. Gone is the bribe and the questioning looks as the bowl of something he rather not contemplate slides across the counter. He hunches over the stew, running his spoon through the sludge, straining his ears to catch crumbs as Burdock moves closer.

Bits and pieces of conversations float over the chatter and Haymitch’s chest tightens at the sound of his friend's voice, so achingly familiar and comforting despite all the years, until the girl’s name shakes him out of his revelry.

Olive?

He scoffs, frowning at Sae’s knowing smirk.

Like the food? He supposes it’s an improvement from the tuberous roots for which mother and grandfather are named…

But no, it’s not just a food. He turns the name over again. It’s a color— green— a dark yellowish green like the moss that’s begun to grow over Lenore Dove’s grave stone, though he doubts that’s what the happy parents were imagining when they picked it. Still a nod to Burdie’s family perhaps? But color alone does not a Covey name make. He briefly wonders if there’s a ballad of Olive Mellark.

He really hopes not.

But there’s still something that nags at the back of his muddled mind. He closes his eyes to clear his head, but instead an image floods his memory: the floor of a Justice building on his tour long ago— a mosaic depicting a bird with a bough — no, that's not quite right— a dove with an olive branch.

He breaks into a sweat and his stomach rolls. Unbidden, his eyes seek out the source of his distress; the tiny girl, swaddled in a dove colored blanket, with a muted orange ribbon accenting the scalloped edge.

It’s as if someone has walked over his grave— no, not his— Lenore Dove’s— but aren't they the same thing? They’re a matched pair, mated for life, more married than any piece of paper could make them. And that girl is his kin too. Beloved and endangered if he cannot fulfill his promise to Lenore Dove.

“Don’t you . . . let it . . . rise . . . on the reaping”

He stands abruptly, knocking the stool over in his wake. He gives the girl— no, Olive, one final look before retreating back to his house. He won’t waste another minute; There’s work to be done.

[violetjedisylveon]

I can’t help but throw in some ideas for the Shadowpeach celestial prince Macaque au

If we wanna go the comedy route a bit more, all the stuff that happens to Wukong pre-journey are all trials from the in-laws to earn their approval (which Wukong could honestly care less about but Macaque wants it it so he’ll suck it up and play nice-ish and it does earn him points since he’s like the only one whose ever tried to earn their approval instead of just eloping)

Stuck in the furnace until he can prove he can escape? Challenge Accepted.

Prove his immortalities by enduring the execution attempts? Easy.

Prove his devotion by self-reflecting under a mountain, being fed only molten copper and ice-cold iron for 500 days? The assholes failed to mention it was 500 celestial days but he came out on top.

Jade Emperor, visibly seething: You have endured all of these trials and proven your devotion to my son. As such, I and this court will give approval for your courtship of Prin-

Celestial messenger *bursts into the Court*: THE PRINCESS IRON FAN HAS ELOPED WITH THE DEMON BULL KING, SWORN BROTHER OF SUN WUKONG!

Jade Emperor:…

Sun Wukong:…

Jade Emperor:… For your brother’s actions, I need you to escort this mortal to India to pick up some scrolls. No flying allowed.

Sun Wukong: OH COME ON!

Jade Emperor: No monk with Buddhist scrolls, no approval.

Previous

Oh my gods yes! That kinda reminds me of the Eros and Psyche myth, which is great!

Macaque really wants his parents approval for two main reasons. 1, so him and his family don't end up cursed or suffering some other terrible fate like his sisters and aunt did, and 2, celestial monkey pregnancies are strange and dangerous and he needs the support network of his family.

And Wukong's also gotta pay for the crimes he did before the miscommunication was solved, they aren't just gonna let that slide cause Wukong is young, dumb and not the best at thinking things through.

Fingers are pointed at Azure for trying to start a conflict because he was a celestial, he knows macaque is a prince, he get into more trouble for the whole actually rebelling thing than Wukong because Wukong was just impulsive and actively being misled.

And Wukong does get in-law brownie points for not eloping with their son and actually earning their approval, they won't admit it but he's at the top of their list for favorite son in law.

So he goes through all these trials while macaque is at home being like "dad stop torturing my boyfriend!"

JE is definitely being a bit petty in the situation, but by the time the mountain trial is done he's begrudgingly willing to allow the courtship to happen.

Then DBK and Iron Fan elope and he's pissed and blames Wukong for introducing them, which he is guilty of, so now he's gotta babysit a squishy mortal for 15 years.

Macaque is not pleased because the babies refuse to be born until their parents are together, and he's already been pregnant for 500 years.

Wukong is mad at DBK for not also trying to get approval and making his courtship approval even more difficult. There are definitely some slaps when they meet up again, then gushing over baby Red Son.

No pain crown for the monkey man here, but the pilgrims do gotta deal with him pining and waxing poetic about the love of his life, Ao Lie's very happy to learn about his brother's soon to be husband.

Meanwhile Camel Ridge trio is not very pleased by their brothers betrayal for pretty faces, and are making plans. >:3

Thanks for asking!

[minkshame]

PowerRed AU- First Meeting, part 1

Word count - 2178

Cowritten with @greasypigeonart

JUST A BRIEF TEASER OF THINGS TO COME!

ao3

He’s got it made right now. Life is good.

Edd practically whoops as he soars over the London streets. Flying is so damn FUN, and he’s just saved another life and it’s awesome. Everyone loves him. Girls swoon over him. His powers are sticking around, not causing him pain, he’s just living the damn life.

He’s pretty grateful for everything right now. He got these powers in a confusion filled freak accident and had a brutal fight with his neighbour, but he WON that fight and got to keep his abilities. Now on occasion he goes around helping people in need. And he has a secret identity, so it doesn’t affect his daily goings on.

Sure, Tom had clocked him pretty much immediately and knows the secret, but that’s just Tom. He’s so antisocial he’ll never tell anyone.

Edd’s job is so easy.

He can fly, he’s got super speed and strength, his X-RAY vision and enhanced hearing come in handy a lot. He only wishes he had night vision or invisibility. Those would rule. But the nuclear energy blasts and laser vision work fine too. It’s FINE! He just wants something to complain about.

Wind in his hair, smile on his face, he starts to slow down. His favourite roof is ahead, the one that looks over the London Eye with such a perfect view. Edd skids his boots on the roof’s surface and lands. He wipes his tousled bangs from his eyes.

No Eduardo, no Matt whining, no prying eyes. This is the place. It’s good for thinking.

He takes a seat on the edge of the roof and dangles his legs. The sun is setting and it actually makes London’s grey skies look sort of pretty. And it’s not raining, for once.

Edd’s only nagging thought is the return of his old friend. He sighs into the wind.

Tord’s back from his army stint, he served many years and he seems… different. He’s distracted, jittery. And Edd still…

Enhanced hearing. He mentioned that earlier? Yeah. There’s a small shuffle behind him, like someone stepping and kicking up dirt. Edd tenses.

He’s never been caught on this roof… he shouldn’t be in trouble, right?

“Who’s there?” He asks, without turning around or getting up, alerting anyone to the fact that he knows they’re there. “If you’re lost… I can help you.” That’s good. It’s nice and neutral. It opens him up for friendly conversation. Instead of a fine he can’t pay. He’s a superhero!

—

There he is. Oh shit, there he actually is!

Tord was starting to think he wouldn’t show, that he’d gotten the location wrong, but no! He was here!

As he watches London’s superhero touch down onto the roof, Tord’s heart rate picks up. An alert pings in the corner of his vision, but he ignores it. Everything he’s worked for has culminated to this moment.

For the last 3 weeks, he’s been utterly consumed. Since his return to his old home, he’s been left wanting. Not for friendship, Edd and Matt are as warm as they’ve always been, but for purpose. From his first day back, he’d been climbing the walls for something to do. The structure he’d grown accustomed to in the army was gone and the free-fall that was his life now made him want to tear his hair out. He needed a goal. He needed noise, he needed extremes. He needed destruction.

And then Matt, sweet, convenient Matt, offered up exactly that. This new superhero, PowerEdd. It was as if he was straight out of a comic book, complete with superhuman powers and flowing cape. Objectively, the man was fascinating. Subjectively, he presented a very unique opportunity for Tord.

London’s sensational PowerEdd lacks one thing: an arch nemesis.

Tord intends to fill this open position.

So for 3 weeks it’s been non-stop. Hours spent studying every bit of footage he could find of PowerEdd’s encounters to calculate damage output. Days spent engineering a suit that could take it. The challenge of gearing himself to go toe-to-toe with a nuclear-powered superhuman fed Tord in a way he so desperately craved.

He used everything he had at his disposal. Old projects were gutted or recycled, repurposed to serve a much more important cause. New things were bought if necessary and financially feasible, otherwise he simply designed around it.

Finally, in what would be considered an alarming turnaround time, Tord had completed something he felt confident enough to fight in. And not a moment too soon, he was beginning to feel the impatience eating away at him.

He’s by no means a designer of any kind, but when he’d tried the whole outfit on for the first time, he was practically vibrating in delight. With his horned mask and long, dark coat, he cut such a perfect image of a supervillain.

Now, he stands behind the rooftop exit door in the same outfit, feeling the same excitement surge through him as his green-clad target seats himself on the ledge of the building. The sun is setting over the city, and Tord is cast in perfect shadow. He couldn’t ask for a more ideal and dramatic setting for his introduction.

He takes a single step, not yet clearing the shadow cast by the door, when PowerEdd acknowledges his presence. His stomach flips, he hadn’t expected to be caught so soon, but it makes sense. Enhanced hearing must be part of the hero’s abilities.

He clenches and unclenches his clawed fingers. The shot of adrenaline feels good.

Tord hasn’t turned his face LEDs on yet. He leaves them off for now and stays in the dark.

“No need, I was waiting for you.” Tord’s voice sounds so foreign to himself through the mask’s voice changer. “Would you mind meeting a fan?”

—

Who… is this guy?

Edd can’t see him from the shadow he hides in. He definitely heard him, and when the guy talks it confirms it. His voice is… weird. It sounds like it’s coming out of a shitty speaker. Passed through a filter?

A fan he says? Is this guy serious?

“Uh…” He squints at the silhouette. What is that sticking out or his head…? damnit. Why didn’t he get night-vision? “I would sort of mind, yea. We’re… on a roof at the minute.”

So maybe the chap lived in this building or one adjacent and climbed the stairs. How else would be on some random roof? Or know that Edd is up here?

“Are you looking for an autograph? It’s a bad time right now mate.”

Edd pushes the windswept hair out of his eyes. A fan… not a crazed fan, please. A normal one. A normal fan who stands in a dark shadow and speaks in riddles.

Damn.

He’s certainly been chased a bit by some who are too obsessed before. They keep trying to flag him down for interviews. Publishing pieces about him in gossip columns. It’s irritating.

Edd stands from the edge of the roof and brushes himself off.

“I’ll take you home dude. Don’t go climbing up on roofs. It’s illegal.”

—

Tord chuckles a little. God, he’s so wired right now. Patience. He won’t get another chance to make a first impression like this one.

He waits for the hero to turn and face him fully. His HUD immediately box-targets the man, a small window pops up to display very basic info about him. Tord is pleased to see the camera and monitoring program are working as intended.

PowerEdd’s words are mostly casual, but he hasn’t made any real effort to get closer. This suggests some apprehension. Tord hopes to build onto that.

When he’s sure PowerEdd’s attention is on him, he turns the mask’s LEDs on. The smooth, black surface flickers to life. When powered on, the mask displays his real expressions as pseudo-pixelated emoticons using red LEDs under the screen.

The mask was easily the most intricate part of his costume. It was the first thing he started with when he’d decided to pursue the arch nemesis role, and what he’d spent the most time building. After all, a unique and memorable look was paramount to a secret identity!

Tord makes sure to school his face into something neutral, but mildly friendly. A simple smiley face displays itself outwardly on the panel. He makes no motion yet to move from his spot in the shade.

“So polite, I feel bad for interrupting.” He says, pixelated mouth moving with his words, “Apologies, I will keep things short.”

Tord takes a step to the shadow’s edge, letting some of the diffused sunlight tease his concealed form.

“Being a superhero, all on your own, it seems like you are missing something, no? Perhaps I can fill that role for you.”

—

Yeesh. The glowing face…

It’s like something sci-fi. Edd still can’t get a proper look at the guy but maybe he’s… cosplaying? A film fanatic? He can relate to that.

He does take a step closer at the same time as his unknown conversation partner. Looks like the chap has a long coat on. It is windy up this high. But man… that screen… Edd squints again. It’s a little emoji smile. Like from a keyboard. He thinks it’s friendly enough… but also just odd. Off-putting.

“No mate, you’re not interrupting, I…” He scratches his neck. “You shouldn’t be up here.” Edd remembers at this moment how truly antisocial he is when he’s not talking to one of his three friends. He feels guarded, tense. A stranger is asking him questions. Why should he have to answer? Yet, he feels a pressure to do so. Something about this strange man… his voice, and his mysterious nature…

“On my own…?” Edd blinks. “Uh, no. I do just fine by myself, actually.” It’s very simple to zip in when there’s an emergency. He can do more than the average first responder and people are very grateful for it. What could he be missing? Could– could it be?

“Are you a hero, too?” His brows perk up and his eyes shine a bit. Someone else with powers…? Someone who could relate to the weirdness of getting used to new abilities? He’s already picturing swapping stories about accidentally blasting holes in walls and floors. Floating to the ceiling in his sleep. Edd steps forward even more. A partner…? Someone… someone…

Maybe he would be less desperate and excited about this if he hadn’t been going through the wringer lately. His long time friend, his closest person, had gone away for so long. His return was something long awaited, Edd held his breath when the red car pulled back in front of their home.

But Tord had been busy. He’d be distant, dismissive. Said he was working on something. Even when he’d JUST come back and Edd thought they’d catch up… muck about together… he…

He’s certainly looking for a friend right now.

“You want to team up with me? I could use the help!” Edd kicks slightly off the ground and hovers there. He smiles back at the cartoony LED lights. That earlier unease has completely dissipated. “What’s your name?”

—

So perfect. Everything’s so perfect already. Grab his attention with trepidation, lure him in with mystery, lower his guard with opportunity. It was so easy, so textbook.

Tord’s skin prickles. His heart rate picks up again. He’s hyper aware of the muscles in his body, everything tensing in anticipation.

He wants to laugh. He does laugh. Airy and euphoric, though it probably doesn’t translate well through the speaker. Finally! Finally!

“Sorry, let me clarify,” he says, once he gets his laughter under control, “I am no hero.”

Tord takes a determined step out of the darkness. The sharp, metal horns of his mask pierce through the veil first, sinister and red in the waning daylight. The high collar of his coat, with its hooked corners and red trim, follows soon after, along with the rest of him. A pair of gold spikes sit along the plane of each shoulder, matching the buttons on the double-breasted cut of the garment. A red belt with gold buckle divides him at the waist. As a final touch, a large “R”, stylised to look like a pair of horns, is embellished in a vibrant red onto the lower right flap of the coat.

He feels like quite the imposing figure in the get-up. But if PowerEdd isn’t impressed yet, he certainly will be in a moment.

This will be an introduction he won’t soon forget.

“You can call me Red Leader.” Tord says, unable to keep the wide grin off his digital face.

He stretches out a clawed hand and tugs his sleeve up just a bit, revealing metal parts covering his forearm. Pieces of it raise and click back, others move and lock into place, until a complicated but very obvious looking laser gun sits at his wrist. The contraption whirs with increasing volume, the end of the barrel glows threateningly. He aims it directly at PowerEdd.

“And I’m the villain.”

He squeezes the trigger.

[samm1e13]

L.O.V.E

🎮 tomura shigaraki x fem!reader smau

a strangers/online friends to lovers university au

masterlist / chance meetings / keigo lore

main menu;

level six; chance meetings

cw; multiple descriptors of anxiety in different tones, mentions of child abuse, i believe that’s all, bit of a longer written part, no texts post or tweets this chapter

on your couch sat kenzie with her boyfriend, touya, and his younger brother shoto. they got here fifteen minutes ago, but touya wanted to wait to meet your brother. something about wanting to make sure he could leave shoto around him. which was fine, keigo would be home soon. in the meantime, touya has given you and kenzie the rundown of shoto. he’s a quiet kid mostly, very polite, likes to play games, and flinches at loud noises. you recognize the behavior of an abused child immediately, your heart aches as you see yourself in shoto.

a lump forms in your throat as a memory surfaces, you have to excuse yourself to the restroom to splash cold water on your face before you begin crying. you can hear the lock turning as you walk back to the living room, keigo stepping through the door right as you round the corner. he sees the look on your face and is in immediate protective big brother mood. he barely has an arm around your shoulder when his gaze lands on the three sitting on the couch. his body tenses up and the name slips from his throat before he has time to process what he’s seeing.

“dabi?” there’s a confused and broken tone to keigo’s voice as he watches touya sit on the couch like he’s meant to be there.

“oh hey man, haven’t seen you since graduation. i didn’t know you lived here.” touya’s voice is casual, like it isn’t a big deal that he’s sitting on his ex’s couch with his arm slung around the shoulders of one of his younger sister’s best friends.

“uh yeah, i-i’m sorry. i-” keigo can feel his throat closing up and his hands are shaking, the door to his bedroom is being shut and locked before anybody has the chance to say anything. you look between touya and where keigo just stood, before setting your gaze back on touya.

“you know my brother? and why did he call you dabi?” you’re confused, keigo’s never mentioned knowing touya and you don’t recognize him from anywhere.

“uh yeah, i knew him in high school. i had white hair back then. i started going by dabi in senior year. i answer to either one but i usually stick to going by touya when i’m with kenzie.” touya’s words are directed at you but his eyes are trained on the hallway that keigo disappeared down.

“right.” the room is silent after you speak, there’s a look on touya’s face that you can’t quite read and it makes you anxious.

“do you mind if i go talk to him?” touya stands and makes his way to where you stand, ready to walk down the hall to keigo. something in his voice makes you want to say yes, but you know keigo’s panic attacks, you've seen them before and know that if touya went to talk to him, then keigo would spiral.

“i’m sorry, i don’t think that’s a good idea right now.” you move slightly to the right blocking his path, his eyes flicker to you. and since he’s a good few inches taller than you, he could easily move past you, the look in your eyes and tone in your voice stops him.

“right, some other time then.” he says, stepping away from you as you nod.

“another time.” you walk with him back to the couch, waiting until he sits down before sitting in the single chair on the side.

“so, i won’t pry about what you’re doing but do you not have anybody else to watch shoto?” you tilt your head glancing between touya and kenzie who is sitting silently. “kenz, you alright?”

her eyes are trained on the ground, her left foot tapping softly against the floor in a rhythm you recognize as one she does when anxious. you’re pulling her off the couch and into the kitchen in seconds, placing a bottle of water on the counter, you grab her hands in yours.

“kenzie, breathe.” you breathe in and motion for her to copy you, she takes a shaky inhale, both of you holding it for five seconds before releasing. you repeat the process a few more times until she’s breathing regularly and can focus her gaze on you.

“you okay now?” you watch as she drinks the water before nodding.

“yeah, thank you. i don’t really know what happened there, i was fine one minute, then the next i wasn’t.” she explains and you nod.

“yeah, i understand. i guess we’re all a little on edge today. i mean we’re babysitting your boyfriend's brother after all, so maybe it’s just nerves.” she nods again and you both smile softly.

“alright, let’s go back to the living room.” you both return to your previous seats and touya wraps his arm around kenzie, pulling her into his side and nudging her head with the tip of his nose.

“originally one of my roommates was supposed to watch him. but, spinner had to work and shigaraki had a family matter.” your head snaps to touya so quickly that you feel it crack.

“wait, shigaraki? like the gamer shigaraki?” the words spill out jumbled together, you’re surprised he understood you.

“yeah, do you know him?” he tilts his head at you.

“touya, the game died.” shoto speaks up from where he sits, nintendo in hand with a black screen.

“shit, really?” touya sighs, “i don’t have a charger for it.” as he finishes speaking, you go to your room, searching for something before returning with a charger.

“here, he can use mine.” you hand the charger to shoto, who plugs in the device and returns to being silent after thanking you, you nod with a smile and sit back down.

“i know shigs, we gamer together a lot. i always try to get him to put our minecraft beds together.” you snort out a laugh, kenzie and touya both chuckle in turn.

“ahh, so you’re y/n? he talks about you a lot.” he speaks casually, your face heats up with a blush and you give a shy laugh.

“so that would make you dabi then, i don’t know why i didn’t put it together earlier when you said you also go by that. it’s nice to finally meet you.” you smile at him and he nods.

“wait, kenzie you’ve met shigs and didn’t tell me?” your tone is teasing and she pouts playfully.

“i’m sorry boo, i didn’t know, honest.” you both laugh at that. 

from there the conversation flows easily and you talk a bit more about what shoto is like, with the boy in question adding in answers here and there, before touya eventually leaves a few minutes later and says he’ll be back in a couple hours.

keigo eventually comes back out of his room to sit on the couch and explain what happened, though he doesn’t give much more than a single sentence.

“touya is my ex-boyfriend from high school.”

level six; chance meetings completed!

two achievements unlocked; keigo lore! touya first meeting!

tag list; [open]

@nkox, @dumbassbrigade, @va-3, @kodditty, @personally4runa

mutual tags; @shigarakislaughter, @chaoslibra, @sexylexy12

samm1e13 tumblr 2025 ©️ don’t use, copy, steal or translate my works for any reason.

[noodles-and-tea]

PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 / PART 4

[podcast-hemocytoblast]

By the time cars were invented, Jonah Magnus was already well into the body hopping game, which raises the question: has he ever actually learn to drive? Did this man sit through driver’s ed? Or has he just been getting out of legal repercussions for his shit driving by telling the cops everything he knows about their deepest darkest secrets every time he gets pulled over?

[berrywinkle]

There is so much dog/wolf imagery with Laios. While everyone else is making profound analysis about it or memeing, I’m just thinking about how happy Laios would be if he was a werewolf in an AU

[mylove-thresher]

chat where is the jar store at

(He got delivered today with a certificate on serving from the university of cunt motherington)

((why is the quality so shitty Tumblr))

I cannot with myself bc what is this mess bro 😭

[blackthorn-faerie]

GallaWelt has become a comfort ship of mine. Here’s a snippet of a fic I’m writing about them:

The best part of the job? Whenever he’s asked that question, Gallagher’s answer isn’t quick. He smiles, scratches his chin and hums softly. Sometimes he says it’s the mixology; making different drinks all night, customizing each one to suit the tastes of the patrons. Sometimes he says it’s the atmosphere; warm lighting, music from his teenage years on the speakers, customers laughing and talking to each other. But if he’s feeling honest, he’ll say it’s the regulars. He loves connecting with people, loves it when they keep coming back, surprised when he remembers their orders.

If he’s feeling really honest though, (he never is) he’ll admit that it’s one regular in particular. The art professor that sits in the same corner table every Friday night with his sketchbook. He orders a single scotch, neat, with a side of ice water and slowly nurses it until he’s satisfied with whatever he’s drawing.

Gallagher is used to regulars, he’s been running this bar for 15 years, and he’s been a bartender for far longer. Usually he gets to know his regulars through conversation as he makes their drinks night after night. However, he knows next to nothing about Professor Yang, the man with the sketchbook. He learned his last name and profession from another one of his regulars: a student of Professor Yang’s. The man doesn’t make conversation when he orders, very awkward whenever Gallagher tries to learn anything about him. He doesn’t get him, doesn’t understand why he keeps coming back. He’s sure as hell not complaining though.

[time8582]

SDVHJKN i manage to start and finish this within a day? I also ended up putting way more effort into this piece then what I originally planned to?



Anyway DeltaDory from @ijjstlostthegame Gray! JD AU

He’s singing “something stupid”

:] I love them so much I might just explode!

[lesbiansanemi]

So hard being a sukuna enjoyer and trying to find fics about him because you get one of two options

1. God awful out of character reader insert porn where you’re his uwu submissive (normally terrified of him) concubine or some shit but GASSSSPPPP he ACTUALLY cares about you and is soft for YOU ONLY and he wants you to GET PREGNANT with HIS HEIR oh my GOD

Or

2. God awful out of character suku.fushi or suku.ita where the plot is like what if sukuna was a MAFIA BOSS and he got OBSESSED WITH THEM and KIDNAPPED them and also it was INCEST and OMEGAVERSE and they call him DADDY while he FUCKS THEM INTO THE MATTRESS and talks about their PUSSY the WHOLE time

And both make me want to throw up in my mouth and momentarily wish I had the power to arbitrarily ban ppl from posting on the internet

[buckdiazlafd]

.