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catsushizz · 5 months ago

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Let Time Pass - S.R

Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

Summary: you reminisce about the time when you met Spencer Reid at college and had a night of adventure that you'll never forget, but after that, you never spoke, until Penelope Garcia found your unsent letters and decided to play the savior of your undying love.

Genre: mutual pining, angst if you squint, but mostly fluff

WC: 3.2k

Warning: kissing, cursing, invading private property

A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this, actually, guess the rom-com that inspired me to write this. I'll give you a hint, the first movie has "sunrise" in the title and the second movie includes unsent letters with addresses hehe.

---

Summer rain has always been your favorite accompanied by the sound of the patter of the raindrops. You looked outside your window with a faraway look, your glasses now above your hair as you took a break from reading the unsent letters.

Unsent letters you wrote when you were in college, being in love with someone for so long who you're not sure still remembers you can be draining, you've loved him since the first time he acknowledged your presence during class and when he took you out of campus when it was just the two of you.

Love comes in forms and somehow Spencer's was when he first spewed those few words to you when you were talking to your friends but they weren't paying attention so you stopped and just sat there embarrassed.

"Wasn't Centralia a town that is still burning to this day?" He had asked and your eyes held the universe at his question. You got his name, Spencer Reid and that name hasn't left your mind ever since then.

Love comes in forms and yours are letters.

After that night, you never spoke again, he got his Ph.Ds and life got in the way. You're pretty sure he doesn't remember you, and you're sure he's got his way with life now, maybe he settled down and you're still pining for a man who you're not sure still remembers you.

You remembered how the night went with him, you actually talked until sunrise. At first, you walked around campus and then explored the city together. He told you about his mom, his goals, everything he hasn't said to anyone, and you told him about everything, your secrets that you haven't said to your best friend yet.

You sighed as you shook yourself out of your reverie, you looked down at your letter and traced the dust off from your neatly written letter.

the letter was a year old, you used to write letters every day when you first met him but when you graduated you never stopped but it became less frequent as time passed. Now you write one letter every year and put it inside a box but this time you decide to stop, finally stop chasing your fantasies and let life slap you in the face.

You laughed at your ridiculousness then you heard the door creek and your gaze landed on your best friend. "Hi Pen" you smiled at her.

Penelope's gaze landed on the box in your hand "What's that?" She asked.

You rolled your eyes and stood up from your couch engulfing her in a tight hug "Stop being nosy and when did you arrive?"

She groaned at the contact "50 minutes ago" you laughed and let go of her.

"were you stuck in a conversation with Mom?" She nodded and let her gaze drift off to the box again.

"Seriously, is that your box from college? You never let me touch it and can you please let me see it, I'm older than you, in case you forgot" she insisted as she made the gesture of getting it out of your grasp.

You smacked her in her arms and hissed "No, and you'll never touch this, I don't care how old you are" You glared at her but it held no threat.

"Fine, dinner is ready your Mom asked me to get you" she grumbled and you let out a huff of amusement.

Penelope was never nosy when it came to you but it's been years since you've ever been with someone and she had a hunch that the box had something to do with it.

"Go on ahead I'm going to change in the bathroom," Penelope said straight up lying in front of your face. You didn't question it as it seems believable, perks of working with profilers.

You only hummed and you made a mistake by putting the box inside your closet without locking it. As soon as you left Penelope got out of the bathroom and searched for your box which wasn't hard to find.

She made sure you were completely out of sight before opening it, she didn't know what she expected but surely it wasn't this. Her jaw went slack as she read through your letters from when you were in college until last year, some were long and some were short, with dates in the corner of each letter.

Spencer Reid, her Mighty professor, Her boy genius.

You stopped, why did you stop? She thought while she read through the recent content. She had to do something about it, she had to help you.

Penelope breathed in, fixed her hair in the mirror, and got out of the room, pretending as if she hadn't shoved a box inside her bag and invaded her best friend's privacy, she's doing it for you so it can't be that bad right?

You were laughing at something your dad said but stopped when you saw how unsettled Penelope was "Pen what's wrong?" You asked, your voice laced with concern.

Now she felt guilty, she felt like throwing up but this was for you. "Nothing, I- I just uh, need to go I feel like I forgot something at home" she stammered as she made her way to the door.

"What? Let me drive you home" You stood up from your seat, your mom and dad looking between you two with suspicion in their eyes.

"No!" Penelope abruptly exclaimed, her hand flailing around for you to stop, making you and your parents flinch at the volume of her voice.

She cleared her throat and pushed her bag away from sight which didn't go unnoticed by you "I can drive myself and besides I got something to drop off at a friend's house" she chuckled awkwardly.

You hesitantly sat back down and nodded "Okay... Call me when you get home" You smiled at her and she nodded. She didn't change her clothes but you thought none of it, maybe that was the thing that she forgot.

---

Spencer was lounging on his couch when he heard the loudest knock he had ever heard in his entire life. His brows knitted together as he peeped at the peephole of his door before opening it.

"Garcia?" He mumbled while looking at the frantic girl in front of him, if he didn't know any better she would've murdered someone but that was just a silly thought.

Penelope pushed Spencer inside urgently and pushed a box against his chest, he had to balance himself at the force.

"What's this?" He asked, confusion evident on his face. Penelope sighed and she sat down on the couch with her hand on her face.

"Do you remember a girl in college?" She muttered, her voice barely visible but he heard her.

"You need to be more specific than that, Penelope" Spencer said and pursed his lips as he put the box on the table and sat down beside her.

Penelope frowned as she looked at Spencer "A girl who you spoke to once and never heard from ever again" she said, her body fully facing him.

She noticed his expression doesn't change and she groaned "For a person who has an eidetic memory, you're shit at remembering" she grumbled.

Spencer looked offended "What?! You're the one talking about a girl without context, do you know how many people I spoke to at college? 80% of those people-" Penelope clicked her tongue and signaled for him to stop.

She took the box from the table and pushed it back to his chest which made him glare at her, she ignored him.

"Open it" she demanded. Spencer studied her tense figure and the way she was trying to hug herself to make herself feel better.

"I feel like you stole something that isn't yours-" he said but found himself being cut off by Penelope's hissed.

"Stop profiling me and open the damn box" she whined as she stood up from the couch and paced around his apartment.

Spencer shook his head as he finally opened the box. He looked at Penelope in confusion and when he saw it was a bunch of old letters.

"Whose this for?" He questioned.

"For you, obviously! I wouldn't have brought it to you if it weren't addressed to you" she exclaimed.

"But there isn't any address on these" he shuffled through the letters, they were still in the envelopes.

"Just read it!"

"Garcia, you do know you just invaded someone's privacy right?"

"I know, just read it. Please?"

Spencer sighed and nodded his head. He started on the first letter that was technically open and he let his gaze back to Garcia who was now sweating in guilt.

When he opened it, he felt his heart beginning to thump. Garcia watched him carefully as she noticed his expression gradually changed.

Dear, Spencer Reid

Do you remember when you first talked to me? I remember thinking that you're the kind of man I'm willing to put my life at risk for. I'm sure you endured me rambling about the burning town (that is still burning to this day apparently and it's been 7 years since we last spoke)

But what I'm trying to say is, I'm still in love with you, pathetic I know. But I just can't seem to let you go, you're like impossible not to remember and each day I try to forget about you and move past my ability to love so deeply but I can't.

Do you remember when you talked to me about your mom? I was so proud of you for coming up that far for your mom, and when we sneaked in on a bar and actually stole a bottle of wine? I couldn't stop laughing that time. God, I keep recalling that memory.

I shared all of my thoughts with you, spilled all my secrets to you, and at some point we held hands and I was so shocked because you told me you had a thing with germs. Honestly, it made me feel special.

I'm scared that if I see you again you'll think I'm weird and obsessive, which I'm not! I can stomach a rejection and I'll completely leave you alone if you ask me to. I'm just really bad at letting people go you know?

But I won't drag this on for long, you're not gonna see this anyway, and one last thing, I hope you have the best life the universe has to offer. I'll talk to them face to face if they are mean to you.

This will be my last letter, I'm letting you go now. I've been so in love with you that I feel like I'll be stuck in a loophole where life is trying to berate me every time for not saying anything to you, for not congratulating you when you graduated because I was feeling too shy to approach you that day. I wish I had, then maybe we could've talked more and had the time of our lives and maybe a repeat of what we did when we first met.

I'm just hoping life is a little bit gentler with you this time.

Yours truly

The girl who you talked to until sunrise

When he finished reading the letter he was silent for a good 3 minutes, and then he started shuffling through the letters and read them all like a madman. Penelope had to stop herself from stopping him.

God did he remember you, fucking hell he remembers you. You've been on his mind for 8 years. He even found himself in tears, he didn't expect someone to love him this much. Yearn for him like he yearns for you.

Spencer wasn't the type of guy who got over things easily and he had come to accept it as a part of him, the pair of you spoke once yet he can't deny the spark he felt while talking to you. If it were anybody else he would've found a way to get out of the conversation but your voice was addicting and so was your ramble about the old town.

He even went as far as to pretend not to know about the things that happened within that town just so he could hear your voice a little while longer. Your conversation shifted as time passed and Spencer found himself talking about anything really, he even made jokes that you found funny and he couldn't ignore the flutter in his stomach when he saw you smile.

When he saw you under the first light of the day, he felt himself fall in love, even if the time was fleeting his love wasn't, it never was.

Every time he was on death's door, you were always the subject of his memories. He keeps recalling the night when he felt like the universe was in his favor only for it to laugh at his face when he didn't see you again.

"I can help you, she's at the bar right now, she texted me," Penelope said, snapping him back down on earth.

He wiped a stray tear and sniffled "No, it's too late, she stopped writing like a year ago" he muttered and Penelope noticed the pain in his voice.

"Don't be ridiculous, I know her, she could be writing a letter right now as we speak" Penelope laughed.

"At a bar?"

"It was a joke, Spencer. Now let's go get your girl, Prince Charming!" She grinned as she dug through her bag for her keys.

"I don't know... I feel like I'm just digging my own grave, Garcia. I can't bear to hear her say that she doesn't feel the same way anymore" He whispered, his voice small as he avoided Penelope's disapproving look.

"That girl watches rom-coms, Spence. Do you think she'll brush off her feelings that easily? Try watching Serendipity and come back to me and try again but right now we need to hurry" She grabbed his arms and dragged him out of his apartment.

She stopped when they got into her car "Promise me you won't tell her I gave you the letter" she said sternly.

"But how am I supposed to explain why I'm there?" He asked confused.

"You're a genius, figure it out," she said as she buckled her seatbelt.

---

You were sitting in a booth with your friends. After having dinner with your parents, your friends invited you to a bar where you felt inclined to come, but you didn't know how to decline.

The air was suffocating so you excused yourself and got out of the bar. You sigh as your gaze shifts to the sky, Spencer would've pointed you to the constellation that was present right now.

"The one you're looking at right now is Aquila" You whipped your head to the familiar voice and you heard yourself gasp.

Spencer smiled when your eyes met "The brightest star in the constellation is Altair" he said as he began walking towards you.

"There is a story of an old Chinese legend about two stars, Altair and Vega, In the story two people met and fell in love but were separated by the stars" he was now in front of you, his hands in his pajama pocket, he turned red as he realized what he was wearing.

"What are you doing here?" You said, at a loss for words. He looked different but not in a bad way. He looked good. Hot even.

Spencer chuckled awkwardly, he always knew you were beautiful but God, you are gorgeous now.

You averted your gaze when you noticed a figure in the distance then your blood ran cold when you saw Penelope, Spencer noticed.

"Don't be mad at her, she helped me find you" he defended urgently as he grabbed your arms. You knitted your brows together.

"How d- did you two meet?" You stammered.

"We worked together" he rubbed his nape, a nervous tick that you notice.

Spencer was so sure he knew what to say to you but now that you're actually in front of him, he was left speechless.

"I never told her about you- did you read the letters?!" You exclaimed, your hand flying to your mouth in shock.

Spencer looked guilty as he averted his gaze to the ground "Yes..." He trailed off.

"God, you must think I'm crazy" you grumbled as you kept fiddling with the hem of your t-shirt.

"Hey, I don't think you're crazy" he whispered as he cupped your face with his hand "I actually find it endearing that you still think of me to this day, and just so you know you haven't left my mind either" he softly said, his face was so close you could feel his breath hitting your cheeks.

He tucks a stray hair out of your face, his eyes holding adoration as he meets your eyes again "Really?" You whispered.

His eyes darted to your lips and he felt himself subconsciously lick his lips "Yeah" he muttered.

He brushed his lips against yours as if testing the waters and when you fluttered your eyes shut, he kissed you as if he was going to devour you.

He breathed in as he kissed you, a certain longing lingered in the air. He pulled away to take a breath but then you surged forward and connected your lips against him for the second time, his hand on your waist as he pushed you closer against him, your hand snaking its way to the hair on his nape as you tugged him closer making him groaned in the kiss.

He tugged on your bottom lip asking for permission which you granted and he slid his tongue in, you tasted so sweet he found himself starting to get addicted. You were a panting mess when both of you separated, his forehead resting against yours, your eyes still closed as you took deep breaths.

Spencer rubbed his nose against yours affectionately and you giggled "You know you'll be stuck with me for a long time right?" You muttered.

"Make it forever" he grins, he connects his lips back to you but this time it is softer than the first, you kiss him back as you both fall in a rhythm.

When you pulled back he chased your lips and that made you chuckle "I'm still mad at her for stealing my letters" you muttered.

"Don't be, please. She's the reason I get to see you again" he said as he pulled you in a hug, your head resting against his chest as he pressed a kiss on the crown of your head.

"And I can't believe you were about to give up on me" Spencer joked lightly and you poked him on his hip making him jolt in surprise.

"Hey! Not fair, what was I supposed to do?" You whined and he laughed.

"to make it seem fair" he looks down on you as you meet his gaze, still in his warm embrace "I wrote about you in my journal, all my journals are full of you" he smiled.

You gasp "what? Let me read it please? you've read my letters" you pleaded.

He hummed "Nope, come on Penelope's waiting in the car" he said as he leads you to Penelope's car with his hand on your back.

"That's totally unfair, but I will snoop around"

"No, you won't"

"You snooped on my letters without my permission, so it's right that I should too," you said smugly.

"Shouldn't you be doing that to Penelope?"

"Oh yeah, let's do it"

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Please interact and reblog my post if you like it, it makes me happy hehe :D

The divider is from @cafekitsune :)

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer x reader #x reader #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #penelope garcia #catsushizz writings #fanfics #mgg

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 3 months ago

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Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 8: She's The Salt Of The Earth And She's Dangerous]

A/N: Be sure to vote in the poll pinned to the top of my blog AFTER you finish reading!!! 🥰

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon™️, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes, RIP Jace (again).

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “She's A Rebel” by Green Day.

Word count: 7.4k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

“I’m sorry if I was a creep when we first met,” Aegon says. He’s been oddly philosophical since he was burned. “I hadn’t seen a hot single chick in a while, and I wanted to fuck you.”

Cregan siphoned just enough gas from a decrepit Chrysler Sebring in Merna to take the Tahoe two and a half hours west to Little Thunder Bay Campground on the shores of Lake McConaughy, a manmade reservoir and New Deal project from the 1930s. You glance over at Aegon dubiously, amused. “Do I count as hot?”

“Yeah, Chippendales, you’re hot. In like a…you live in a cabin and knit sweaters by a crackling fireplace kind of way.”

You smile. “So you got over that.”

“Oh no, I still want to fuck you. Now I just know you better, so I wouldn’t want to offend you by being obnoxious about it.”

“That’s sweet, I guess. I appreciate your discretion.”

“No problem. If you ever decide you want to take a ride on a less distinguished Targaryen brother, let me know.”

The two of you are fishing from a boat launch, dry splintering planks of wood, opaque rippling water, soft wind and bright sunshine from an aquamarine, cloudless sky. Cregan found the fishing poles in the abandoned RV you’ve moved into, a Winnebago Spirit with one of those stick figure family decals on the back window, Mom, Dad, four lovely children and a dog too, all of whom are perhaps alive but more likely dead and in any case nowhere to be found here in this tranquil corner of western Nebraska, 150 miles from the Wyoming border. Helaena digs worms from the earth, then Rhaena slices them into wriggling segments with a hunting knife and brings them to you and Aegon to be impaled on barbed hooks. Aemond, Rio, Daeron, Luke, and Cregan are swimming about twenty yards down the beach, soaked boxer shorts and nothing else, splashing each other and scrubbing the grime off their skin from a morning spent gathering wood for the firepit and the grill; Ice is paddling joyfully alongside them. Baela floats on her back and peers vacantly up into the vast blue nothingness. Aegon is not permitted in the water, as his leg is an open wound beneath his bandages. You ask him as you recast your fishing line: “Why are you like this?”

“Like what?”

You shrug, smirking guiltily. You thought it was obvious.

Aegon throws back his head and cackles, slow and lazy. “Oh, I get it. A loser.”

“I didn’t say loser.”

“You thought loser.”

“I implied loser.”

“It’s alright. I’ve been called worse things by people I admire much less.” He contemplates his answer as he gazes down into the water, sluggish stoned reverie. Aemond must be almost out of morphine by now. At last Aegon says: “I think the first thing I ever learned was that no matter how hard I tried, no one was ever going to love me. Not in a normal kind of way, Disney movie love, Christmas rom-com love. So I stopped trying. Mother wanted me to play piano, so I bombed the recital. Father wanted me to be a doctor or a lawyer, so I skipped class, went golfing and yachting, didn’t even bother to pay someone to write halfway decent essays for me. If they couldn’t love me unconditionally, I wasn’t interested in meeting their conditions.” Then he chuckles, the breeze combing through his hair, ninety degrees and only getting hotter. “I refused to work. All you’ve ever done is work. You must hate me.”

“No, I get it.” You reel in your line; a fish has stolen the worm from your hook, tiny clandestine nibbles. You impale a slimy new victim and recast. “No one wants to be used.”

“Yeah. Exactly. I wasn’t going to spend my life doing shit I didn’t want to do so my parents could brag about me to their insufferable friends and absolve themselves of their mistakes. Mother married a man who didn’t give a fuck about her, Father ignored us all. Me being a success story would have given them the impression they did something right. I couldn’t have that.”

So Aemond had to be the success story instead. You glance down the beach at where he is bursting through the water and slicking back his dripping hair from his face, showing Luke a bone he found in the muddy silt of Lake McConaughy, hopefully not human.

Aegon follows your eyeline. “Aemond went the other way, I guess. Always so pathetically desperate for their approval. Scrabbling for crumbs of it like a rat. That’s what the thing with Alys was all about, it’s the only explanation I have. Older woman, surrogate mother, comforting but chilly, fawning but forbidden, always keeping him at an arm’s length and rewarding his tricks with treats.” He smirks flirtatiously, then sees that he’s hurt you. “Oh, um, I mean…look, it wasn’t…it wasn’t a good thing, you know? He wasn’t happy. It was a seven-year-long psychotic episode, not a relationship.”

“You mentioned that Criston likes Aemond,” you say, pivoting. “The…what is he? A family friend, an assistant?”

“My mother’s personal security guard. And yeah, he cares about Aemond. He’s proud of him, he trust him, he thinks he’s more capable than any of the rest of us, and that’s probably true. It’s definitely true compared to me. But that doesn’t mean Criston always knows how to express it.”

You look out over the water, trying not to imagine Aemond touching Alys, this woman you hate without knowing her face. You wonder if he ever wishes you were more like her: older, clever, entrancing, masterful. “It must have been a strange way to grow up.”

“Cold,” Aegon says. “Hollow. Holidays, birthdays, vacations, everything. You go through the motions but something’s always missing. When you’re little, you think it’s your fault, and then eventually you realize that they’re going to be miserable whether you’re there or not. But you can get out if you’re willing to run far enough.” He scratches at his forearm, and your eyes catch fleetingly on the black ink of his tattoo: It’s not over ‘til you’re underground. You had told Rio something similar when you were stranded on that transmission tower in Catawissa, Pennsylvania. “This is fucked up, and I don’t mean that I don’t feel bad about what happened to Jace, and I get that millions of people have died agonizing deaths, and that all sucks, believe me, I know, but this…” He gestures vaguely, to the zombies and the desolation and the collapse of everything you’ve ever known. “It was kind of my Get Out Of Jail Free card. And in a weird way…sometimes I feel like I’ve been happier since the world ended than I ever was before.”

You smile. You know what he means. “Even if your leg gets infected and we have to saw it off without anesthesia like you’re a Civil War soldier?”

Aegon laughs and shakes his head, his hair flopping around. It’s almost long enough for him to have a man bun like Cregan’s if he wanted one “No, probably not. Also, what’s the Civil War?”

“Forget it.”

“No, now I want to know.”

“It’s kind of a long story.”

“Aemond said something interesting this morning while you were picking blackberries with our favorite Trump supporter,” Aegon tells you, salacious and sly, offering a tantalizing morsel he knows you’re powerless to refuse. He pauses and waits for you to admit it to yourself.

“Fine. Okay. What?”

“He said that when you and Cregan are standing next to each other, you look like you belong together.”

You groan, quite loudly. “I have zero interest in Cregan romantically. Literally zero. I don’t think he sees me that way either.”

Aegon shrugs. “The dating pool is awfully small nowadays, Banana Chip. Anyone who’s not a corpse or an immediate blood relative starts to look tasty.”

“So that’s why you like me.”

Aegon grins, teeth he shows often and easily, so unlike Aemond in every way. “No. I think I’d like you anywhere.” He tugs languidly on his fishing pole. “I want a new golf club.” He forgot his at the house in Broken Bow where Jace died.

“We’ll see.”

“I want new shoes too.” One of his Sperry Bahama sneakers was burned beyond repair and filled with shreds of his own singed flesh, scraps like soft bacon fused with the padding and insole. “And some polos.”

“I’m not a Big Lots.”

“Who the fuck shops at Big Lots?” Aegon’s fishing line jerks, and he yanks hard on the pole before reeling in his catch. Suspended at the end is a long green creature, yellowish spots and a villainous angular face. “That is one ugly bitch.”

“It’s a pike,” you say, and then when you grab it you observe that the misfortunate fish has the barb of the hook piercing not through its lip but one of its bulging, glassy eyes. “Oh my God!”

Aegon squeals, horrified. He offers no meaningful assistance. “That’s so gross, that’s so gross, what are we going to do?!”

“We have to, like, I don’t know, grab the back of the hook from inside its mouth and pull it out of the eyeball, I guess…?!”

“Yeah, awesome. Good luck with that.”

You reach tentatively into the pike’s gaping mouth. Its jaws snap shut, needlelike teeth stinging your wrist. “Ow!”

“Cregan!” Aegon bellows. “Cregan, help!”

Now the others are running to the boat launch to see what’s going on, Helaena and Rhaena from the shore, everyone else from the lake, Luke helping Baela wring the water from her sundress and Ice galloping alongside Cregan. He gets a look at the pike and guffaws, loud and rumbling.

“Poor little guy. That’s some bad luck he’s got.”

“Can you get the hook out?” you ask, eager to surrender the fish, which is still thrashing franticly and gnashing its teeth, mindless cold-blooded death throes.

“Of course I can.” Cregan plucks the pike from your grasp, shoves his massive hand into its mouth, and rips the hook out with one effortless maneuver. The pike is freed, but its eyeball remains speared on the hook. Then Cregan spies blood on your wrist. “You okay there, Miss Chips?”

“Oh yeah. I’m fine.”

“Freaking disgusting, man,” Aegon mutters; he and Rio are ogling the disembodied eyeball, complete with a frayed optic nerve like a tail, with identical, stunned revulsion.

You turn to smile up at Aemond, but he doesn’t notice you. He is staring at Cregan, his sole blue eye narrow and fixed and flat like still water.

~~~~~~~~~~

“The closest town is Ogallala,” Aegon says as he lays his map across the wooden picnic table. The rest of you are seated around him and picking flaky white meat from between the thin, fragile bones of the pike, which Cregan has gutted and cooked on the large metal grill that careless camping families once roasted marshmallows and hotdogs over. Helaena is at the edge of the table and writing in her spider notebook, elegant loops of cursive. Ice is lying on her belly and gnawing on a rabbit she killed for herself, its doomed black eyes gazing up at you.

“That has to be what, ten miles south?” Rio says apprehensively.

Aegon licks grease from his fingers. “Yup. A little more, probably.”

“What about Lemoyne?” Daeron says, pointing. “Or Keystone, or even Belmar? They’re all closer.”

“See how small the names are written?” Aegon tells him. “That means they’re not actual communities. They’re like a few stop signs and maybe a Dollar General and that’s it.”

“I love Dollar General,” Cregan says, nostalgic. “Man, do y’all remember Chicken in a Biskit? I used to park myself in front of the tv and eat boxes and boxes—”

“It has to be Ogallala,” Aemond insists. “We need pharmacies and grocery stores and cars to siphon gas from, we need a real town.”

Rhaena chews her lower lip anxiously. “The Tahoe is empty. We have maybe half a gallon left and that’s it. Just enough to get down to Ogallala if we’re lucky, but not back.”

“So we’ll drive until it dies and then we’ll walk. Cregan has a gas can in the back, if we find fuel we can bring some back to the Tahoe and continue from there.”

“Walk, huh?” Aegon says, looking down at his bandaged left leg, which he can’t put any weight on. He gets around by hopping, leaning against other people (oftentimes against their will), and being carried by Rio.

“Well, you’re not going,” Aemond tells him. “And Baela isn’t either.”

Baela, gazing blankly down at the map, says nothing. A brown striped snake darts through the grass only a few feet from the picnic table, moving swiftly towards the lake, and there are alarmed gasps and yelps.

“Northern water snake,” Helaena says, glancing up from her notebook. “Not venomous.”

“Good,” Rhaena replies with a shudder.

Luke says fearfully as he reads the map: “Aemond, last time we went into a town that big was Broken Bow, and…Jace…the farmhouse…”

Aemond slams his fists down on the table. “We have to, okay? We need food and water. We need bullets. I need more pain meds and bandages for Aegon, I need antiseptic and Neosporin, and Vaseline for when he’s healing, and supplies for when Baela goes into labor too, since I’ve had to use everything I had saved.”

“We need pads and tampons too,” Helaena says as she examines the black-ink inventory in her notebook. “And Advil, lip balm, bars of soap, hair ties, and socks and underwear. And that green jelly aloe vera stuff for Aegon’s sunburn.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Aemond agrees. “We need a lot of things. And we have to refuel so we can keep moving west.”

“We could stay here,” Baela says, so softly that at first you aren’t sure if you heard her right.

“What, Baela?” Rhaena asks gently.

“I want to stay here.” Baela is more resolute now. “I want to have the baby here.”

Nobody knows how to respond. Rio gives you a troubled glance. You nod in agreement, so subtly you doubt anyone else notices. Not an option.

Aemond is calm but unwavering. “Baela, I’m sorry, but that’s not possible.”

She pleads her case. “I like the Winnebago. I like the lake. I’m comfortable here, and we’re out in the middle of nowhere, and I…I think we could make this our home for a while, now that we’ve found someplace like this. Someplace quiet and safe.”

“We’re not safe here, Baela,” Aemond says. “It feels like we’re safe, but we’re not. We aren’t a big enough group to reliably be able to defend ourselves. We don’t have adequate supplies. We have a lake to our backs, sure, but the rest of the shoreline is open for anybody to walk right into, and our visibility is blocked by trees. No one has stumbled across us yet, but that doesn’t mean they won’t. And if they do we’re extremely vulnerable. But when we get to the west coast, we’ll be home.”

“I’m tired of running. I’m tired of being afraid.”

“I understand. I am too.”

“It’s different,” Baela says, abruptly fierce. “You don’t know what this feels like. None of you do. I’ve never given up and I’ve never asked to be taken care of, I’ve always been the strong one, but I’m so goddamn tired, and I want to have my baby here, and I…I…” Her large dark eyes are glistening, haunted. “Every time we’re driving I feel like I see him sitting next to me, or standing out in the middle of the road, and then I have to remember what happened all over again, and…I just…I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Rhaena takes Baela’s hands in her own, skims her thumbs across Baela’s knuckles; Luke rubs her back reassuringly. The rest of you can only offer silent, pitying looks. There are no easy answers, no fortuitous gold strikes, no shortcuts. The only way out is through.

“Whatever you guys decide, I’m leaving either way,” Rio says. “Sophie’s waiting for me in Oregon. I can’t just hang out in Nebraska forever. I’ll walk if I have to.”

“It’s over a thousand miles,” Aegon tells him.

“Doesn’t matter, man. I gotta do it.”

You add: “Obviously, I’d have to go with Rio.”

Both Aemond and Aegon appear startled. “We’ll be on the road again soon,” Aemond promises. “Tomorrow, if we can find gas in Ogallala.”

“I’m not going,” Baela whispers.

“We have to, Baela,” Rhaena implores. “It’ll be alright. We’ll take care of you, and the baby too when the time comes.”

Baela stands, strides to the Winnebago, disappears inside and slams the door behind her.

“She’ll be okay,” Rhaena tells the rest of you. “She’s…you know, she’s shaken up. She’s not thinking clearly. But she’ll realize this was the right decision. The only decision, really.”

“It’s best if we can get set up somewhere permanent before she goes into labor,” Aemond says, as if he’s defending himself. “Traveling with a baby…Baela recovering…it would be very dangerous for all of us.”

“Luke and I are thinking the same things, Aemond. We agree with you.”

He gives Rhaena an appreciative smile, very small but sincere. Then he turns to Daeron. “Baela and Aegon will have to wait here when I go south to Ogallala, since they can’t walk in the event the Tahoe runs out of gas. You’re going to stay behind to protect them.”

“Got it,” Daeron says soberly. All the bullets are gone; his compound bow, fed with arrows fashioned from sticks, is the best weapon you have left. Cregan has his axe, Rio still prefers to bash skulls with the butt of his Remington shotgun, everyone else must make do with hunting knives from that cellar back in Pennsylvania and kayak paddles found here at Lake McConaughy.

Aemond looks around the table. “I’ll need Rio, Cregan, and Luke.”

“And our beloved furball Blue Raspberry Icee,” Aegon says, smirking. “To sniff out any zombies.”

“Yes. Ice too.”

“What about me?” you say, staring incredulously at Aemond.

“Not you. You’re staying here in the RV.”

“If you and Rio are going, I’m going.”

“No, you’re not,” Aemond says. “You’re the best shot, and we all agree about that, but we’re fresh out of bullets. You therefore have no advantage tactically.”

“What’s Luke’s advantage?”

There are awkward chuckles. Aemond leaves the picnic table and gestures for you to follow him. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Why?”

Aemond doesn’t answer; he keeps walking until he’s hidden amongst a small grove of Kentucky coffeetrees, oval emerald leaves and umber seed pods that hang from branches, reminding you of skate egg cases—what some people call mermaid’s purses—you once found washed up on the beach outside Djibouti City. Rio teases you: “Ohhh, you’re in troubleee…”

You swat him on the back of the head; his hair is getting long too, dark curls that flutter in the breeze that comes in off the lake, hot and humid, the infinite wildness of July. “If I’m not going, you have to swear that you’ll—”

“I got it, I got it,” Rio says, blasé and jolly. “I’ll look underneath things, I’ll look on top of things, I’ll look everywhere. Okay?”

Aegon kicks him with his good foot. “Get me a golf club.”

“I’m not a Dick’s!”

“Dicks?! Who brought up dicks, you sicko…?!”

You go after Aemond and meet him in the shade, an island of twilight in the omnipotent golden morning. He pushes you against one of the Kentucky coffeetrees—rough bark to your back, prodding you through your t-shirt—and nuzzles your throat as he presses his hips to yours, blissful clandestine surrender as your knees weaken and you gaze dizzily up into the canopy of leaves.

You sigh: “This is not an explanation. This is a distraction. A very enjoyable one, but a distraction nonetheless.”

“Daeron is good with a bow, but he’s young,” Aemond murmurs. “I need you to help him protect the others.”

“You’ve managed to make this sound like a promotion.”

“And,” Aemond continues. “When things get risky and chaotic, and I’m trying to make sure everyone is safe…I find you being around to be…distracting.”

“Rio doesn’t think I’m a distraction.”

He chuckles, avoidant. “That’s not an equivalent situation.”

“I get that Luke has binoculars, but I am also perfectly capable of using binoculars, and I could borrow his and he could stay here. I really don’t think he’d mind being benched, he’d probably prefer it—”

“I always ask you to stay near Rio, and you never do, and then I have to worry about you getting lost or bitten or imperiled in any one of a million other ways.”

“Because it’s not that simple! Rio gets it, I have to be able to improvise—”

Suddenly, Aemond pulls away and asks: “Do you trust me?”

You are bewildered. “What?”

“Because I could understand if you don’t.”

You search his scarred face; he has that look like he’s trying not to reveal too much of himself, to show that he’s nervous or vulnerable or afraid. You touch your palm to his ravaged cheek, your voice soft. “I trust you, Aemond.”

He seems relived. “Good. Then please stay here.”

“You’ll watch out for Rio?” you say threateningly.

“Of course.”

“And yourself too.”

He grins, those small secretive teeth he loves to hide. “That’s the plan.”

“And you’ll check under things and on top of things, and you’ll remember what I said about the racks? When you go into stores and you’re rummaging through—?”

Aemond kisses you, warm and slow and kind, the curve of his lips pleased and mischievous. “It’s flattering that you’re so concerned.”

“And don’t forget the pads and tampons.”

His scarred eyebrow rises half an inch. “Oh?”

“I’m already having pre-period cramps. I’ll need supplies in a few days.”

“You’ll have them. Don’t fear.” Then he studies you, concerned, his brow furrowing and his palm testing your cheek and forehead. “You feeling okay? You’re sure that’s all it is?”

“Oh yeah, totally. It’s very routine at this point, I’ve had a decade to get accustomed.”

“Alright. If there’s anything else you think of before we head out, I’ll add it to the list.” He takes your hand and examines the shallow scratches left on your wrist by the needlelike teeth of the pike. “Let me clean and wrap that up for you. I think I have just enough bandages left.”

“Your worst nightmare came true,” you joke. “I was bitten after all.”

Aemond doesn’t laugh, doesn’t even smile.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s long after nightfall and you and Aegon are keeping watch just outside the Winnebago Spirit, slumped in folding camping chairs people once told their legends from: scary stories, workplace grievances, familial mythology. In the firepit, logs split and pop, and embers glow a bloody red. You’re waiting for the Tahoe to return and trying not to think about the possibility it might not.

“These suck,” Aegon says, garbled by a mouthful of Cheddar Whales, grimacing at the bright blue box. “Why do you and Rio eat these? They’re like…dodgy Goldfish.”

“Are you kidding?! They’re way better than Goldfish! Goldfish don’t taste like anything.”

“And Cheddar Whales taste like salty cardboard. The American Dream.” Aegon passes the box back to you. “They better come back with some SpaghettiOs or Rice-A-Roni or something. I can’t survive on Cregan’s overcooked fish.” He lights a Marlboro Gold cigarette by sticking it into the fire and takes a deep drag, looking up at the stars. Aemond gave him the last of the morphine before he left, and Aegon is floating on a feathery, narcotic cloud.

You say after at last working up the nerve: “So you’re a slut, right?”

He snickers, firelight dancing on his sunburned face. “Slut, loser, you’ve got me all figured out.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yeah, I guess I’m a slut. Why?”

“Have you ever had trouble…” Your hands flail around aimlessly; it’s so awkward to say out loud. “You know…getting it in?”

“No, not really. But I’m hung like a hamster.” He looks over at you, curious shimmering stoned blue eyes. “Technical difficulties, Chip And Dip? Not enough dipping going on?”

“Forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“You’re probably just nervous. Aemond’s a doctor, he’d be able to tell if you had something wonky down there, like those chicks who are born without a vagina. Or with two vaginas. Jesus Christ, can you imagine the possibilities? Why can’t I meet someone like that?”

You stare into the fire, discouraged. “I’m going to ruin everything.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that. Aemond will assume it’s his fault. He thinks everything is his fault.”

Through the darkness, you spot headlights bobbing as the Tahoe approaches on bumpy dirt roads. “Oh, thank God. They’re back.”

“About time. If Rio didn’t find me a new golf club, I’m going to drown him in the lake.”

“He could break you in half.”

“But he wouldn’t.”

“No.”

“Because he likes me too much.”

“Right.”

“Maybe you like me too,” Aegon says as he exhales smoke, his glazed eyes listing to you, his grin crooked and drowsy. “Just a little bit.”

You smile reluctantly. “I might.”

“Cool.” He beams up at the stars, and then says again: “Cool.”

As the massive SUV rolls to a halt, the headlights cascading over you and so bright they’re nearly blinding, you notice the red letters on the grill: GMC. “That’s not the Tahoe,” you say, panicked.

“What? Then who is it?”

“I don’t know.” You stand up, instinctively reaching for one of your M9s; but they’re both empty. All the guns are. Your hand drops to your side.

Aegon, unable to rise on his own, remains in his chair and grips the armrests tightly. He whispers: “Should we go inside…?!”

“They’ve already seen us. But they don’t know who’s in the RV.” Rhaena, Baela, Helaena. With a shiver like a bolt of cold lightning, you recall what Aemond said at the bowling alley back in Shenandoah, Ohio: I don’t want them to know we have women with us.

The GMC Yukon is still running when two men step out, the headlights disorientingly bright. They are both armed, you see immediately, pistols that you’d guess are Colts. Aegon’s hand juts out and closes around your forearm as the strangers approach. They are both young, maybe twenty, and wearing jeans, camo jackets, and baseball hats like they’re going hunting. They stand in the yellow-white glow of the headlights as they watch you.

“Hi,” you say congenially, forcing a smile.

The men glance at each other, then one greets you with a nod. “Howdy.”

“We’re set up here,” you say. “But it’s a big campground. You’re welcome to any of the other spots.”

The man who spoke earlier chuckles and scratches at his short beard. You steal a glimpse back at Aegon: his eyes are huge and horrified.

“It’s real quiet on the lake,” you continue. “We haven’t had any problems, and we’ve been here a few days. It’s a good place. We’re happy to share it. We don’t…” You deliberate what words to use. “We aren’t interested in making trouble. We just want to be left alone.”

The man replies: “I camped here every single summer growing up, learned to fish here, swam in the water with my cousins, brought my girlfriends here to fuck. And now you’re inviting me to stay? You’re not from here. I can tell by your accent. This is my backyard. You’re the one who should be asking for permission.”

Aegon is making a low, whimpering sound; his fingernails are digging into the defenseless, downy underside of your forearm. “We don’t have anything of value,” you say, your voice trembling.

“Uh huh.” The stranger’s gaze flicks to the Winnebago.

“We found it. There’s no gas, no keys. Two of the tires are flat. It’s just shelter.”

“Who else is in the RV?”

“No one.”

The second man is squinting at Aegon. “Is he a cripple?”

“He was burned. That’s why we’re resting here for a while, so he can heal.”

The first man points to the bandage on your wrist. “Did you try to kill yourself? My neighbor did that when her kid got eaten. Slit her veins open out in the middle of the street. Bad scene.”

“I got mauled by a fish,” you reply numbly.

He laughs, a slow, rolling, mocking sort of sound, not taking his eyes off you. Then they drop to the Beretta M9s you have holstered at your waist. “Are those loaded?”

“Yes.”

He signals to the nearest Kentucky coffeetree. “Prove it. Shoot that tree.” You stare at its trunk, stark in the headlights of the strangers’ SUV. Long seconds tick by, the only sound the idling of the engine and the crackling of the firepit. “You can’t,” the man says, grinning. “Because you’re out of bullets. But I’m not.”

He raises his pistol and fires, a thunderclap, a mechanical roar. A small circular wound appears in the tree. Aegon shrieks and tries to stand; he tumbles to the earth when the raw, weeping flesh beneath his bandages betrays him. The RV door flies open and Daeron is the first one out, clutching his compound bow but still blinking his way out of the dreams he was jolted from. He won’t be able to nock one of his makeshift arrows before they shoot him.

“What the hell’s going on—?!”

“Drop it!” the stranger shouts, and both he and his companion aim their pistols at Daeron. He freezes. Baela, Rhaena, and Helaena exit the RV and begin screaming, clinging to each other.

“Do what they ask,” you tell Daeron, trying to remain calm. With great hesitancy, he sets his bow on the earth and puts his empty palms in the air. There are hunting knives inside the RV, you think. Where did we store them? In a drawer, in a cabinet?

The men are now herding you all into the RV, jabbing the barrels of their pistols against your backs and bellies. “Let’s go, everybody in,” the first one says. The second man hooks an arm forcefully under one of Aegon’s and drags him through the threshold, Aegon yowling as his burned leg smacks against the doorframe. The second man forces Aegon and Daeron to kneel on the floor at the front of the RV near the driver’s seat; the other one arranges the women at gunpoint, instructing you to squeeze together to sit in a row on the floral couch. Helaena—farthest from you and closest to the kitchenette booth—is sobbing and covering her ears. Rhaena appears to be hyperventilating. Baela’s head is held high, her face furious and defiant.

Aemond, Rio, Cregan, please come back…

“Now this is interesting,” the first man is saying to his friend. He uses his pistol to indicate to each of you. “We’ve got G.I. Jane, this delicate little sweetheart, a pregnant lady, and Cinderella. Where should we begin…?”

You glance at Rhaena, catch her wide frenzied eyes, then look meaningfully at the drawers across the aisle near the kitchenette stove and sink. Knife? you mouth.

It takes her a moment to realize what you mean, then she inclines her head, an elusive nod. She remembers where they are, where they were stored once she cleaned them this afternoon in the lake water. That’s good; but in order for Rhaena to grab a large serrated hunting knife, the men will need to be distracted.

“There’s a bed in the back,” the second man is saying. “I can see it from here, down the hallway…”

Your gaze is darting around the Winnebago. Aegon is yelling something; the second man pistol-whips him, fortunately not hard enough to fracture his skull.

“Don’t worry,” the first man tells Aegon, background noise you try to ignore as you search for an opportunity. “You’ll get to watch…”

Helaena is trying to get your attention, staring at you with her wide, gleaming blue eyes. You furrow your brow at her, not understanding…and then you see the burlap strap she’s looped around her wrist. Her messenger bag must be in the kitchenette booth beside her. And as you watch, and only for a second, she arranges her fingers in the shape of a gun.

The Ruger, you realize, amazed, that tiny revolver she was always so repelled by. Helaena never used it, but she still has it. And it’s loaded.

Baela is arguing with the men, words you tune out. Helaena points to you, but you shake your head. There’s no way for her to get the Ruger to you without them seeing. You mouth to Helaena, your face severe: You have to do it. Then you look to the first man, presently waving his pistol in Baela’s face.

“I’d like to go first,” you say casually, and all the noise stops.

“No, no, no, I’ll do it,” Aegon tells the men. “You want a blowjob? You want to fuck me in the ass? I’m down. I’m not scared of no dick. I experimented in college.”

Both strangers burst into hysterical laughter. “That’s a mighty generous offer,” the second one says, swiping a tear from his eye. “But that’s not the team we’re on, is it, Wesley?”

The first man, Wesley, is smiling down at you. His gaze sweeps over your body, from your bare feet to your eyes, calm and level. “Why do you want to go first, darling?”

Shoot him, Helaena. Shoot him right now. “I’ve never done it before. I figure I should give it a try before it’s too late.”

Helaena whips the Ruger out of her burlap messenger bag and opens fire. She winces each time it goes off, and her aim is terrible; bullets pierce the ceiling and the walls, striking nowhere near Wesley or his accomplice, but their panicked ducking buys valuable seconds. Daeron and Aegon tackle the man closest to them and wrestle the pistol from his hands. Aegon presses the barrel to his skull, pulls the trigger, kills him instantly. Rhaena flies to one of the drawers and yanks out a hunting knife ten inches long. She buries it in Wesley’s throat, the blade disappearing until the hilt rests on his collarbone. When she rips it free, scarlet blood jets from his severed carotid artery, spraying you, soaking you. Blood is in your eyes and nostrils, hot coppery carnage; when you scream, you can taste it in your mouth.

People are reaching for you and telling you to calm down, that they’ll help you, but you can’t wait. You use your t-shirt to mop as much of the blood as you can from your face and bolt through the door of the RV, running towards the lake. You drop to your knees on the sand and splash yourself, cool moonlit rivulets that wash the blood away. You’re trembling, you’re crying, and when somebody grabs you by the arm you scream and strike out at them, clawing like an animal.

“It’s me,” Aemond says, and only then do you get a good look at him, blood and lake water beading on your eyelashes. He’s wiping blood off your face with his palms, he’s inspecting you for fresh wounds. “Don’t fight, it’s me, it’s me, whose blood is this, what happened—?!”

“You were right,” Baela says to Aemond from where she stands on the sand, a hand resting on her belly. Drifting from the RV are the voices of the others who have just returned: Rio, Cregan, Luke. “We’re not safe here.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The next night, rain falls as you lie entangled with Aemond in the attic bedroom of a ranch house in Red Desert, Wyoming, flashing lightning and flickering candles illuminating bare skin. You are kissing feverishly, your hands all over each other, and Aemond is pushing himself into you; or, rather, he is trying to. There is pain, and you can feel your body turning treasonous, rejecting him, shrinking away from him, fearing that you’ll never be able to satisfy him.

No, no no no…

His voice is hushed and gentle as his lips brush your ear. “Hey, you’re shaking, why are you shaking?”

“I’m okay, I’m fine, keep going.” And then, when he stops: “No, Aemond, don’t—”

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You have to. I’ll be okay, I promise.”

Instead, he lies down beside you and turns your face to his, fingerprints on the slope of your jaw. He asks again, more firmly: “Why are you shaking?”

All the walls and arches of you collapse, stones tumbling to crack against the earth. You are suddenly fighting tears. Your words come out in a whisper. “I want this to be real.”

He studies your face, distressed. “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t want to ruin it. I don’t want to lose you. I never thought I’d have something like this and now I’m so afraid of fucking it up.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s what Jace thought.”

Aemond pulls you against his chest and holds you as you sink through him into dark, cold, watery dreams, and doesn’t make any more promises he can’t keep.

~~~~~~~~~~

“What time is it on the East Coast right now?” you ask Rio. It’s May and almost a hundred degrees every day in Djibouti City—arid, rainless, sun glare and dust that sting your eyes—so the Navy has you building at night when they won’t have to deal with quite so many Seabees dropping over from heatstroke. Outside the day is turning to a soft lavender dusk and your shift will begin soon. You are dressed—sand-colored t-shirt, camo pants, work boots—and toweling off your hair, still wet from the shower.

Rio is sprawled across the floor of your room, taking up almost all of it; housing at Camp Lemonnier consists of converted shipping containers, each outfitted with its own perpetually whirring air conditioning unit. He is reading Fifty Shades Of Grey. “Like seven hours behind here, so early afternoon, I guess.” Then he looks up at you, suspicious. “Why?”

“I should probably call.”

“Should you really?”

“I want to. I’ll feel guilty if I don’t.”

Rio shakes his head and returns his attention to his reading material. “I’m not going to tell you what to do.”

“You love telling me what to do.”

“I wish you loved listening.” He flips a page, puzzled. “Why the fuck does Sophie like this book so much…?”

You open Facebook Messenger on your phone and make a call. The wifi isn’t good for videos, but old-fashioned audio calls usually work okay. There is an answer on the fourth ring.

“Yeah?” she says, and you can hear the entire house when she turns on speakerphone: the squeaking of the recliner, the droning of a talk show, indistinct speech and chuckling from other people, glass—cups, bottles, baking dishes, ashtrays—clinking sharply.

“Hi, Mama! Happy Mother’s Day!”

“Aw, ain’t you sweet to call.” And you are testing her voice like water from a tap, icy cold, hot enough to scald. At the moment, Mama sounds perfectly lukewarm. “I didn’t count on hearing from you. I know how busy you are.”

That’s a landmine that you step gingerly around. “We definitely have a lot going on here, and there’s the time difference and everything…but I wanted to make sure to say hi, even if I can’t talk for long. What are you up to today?”

“Oh, nothing much.” You hear her smoking: breathe in, breathe out, a cunning sort of pause as she decides how to proceed. Of course there were no extravagant festivities planned. Nothing ever felt like a real holiday at home: Mama getting sloshed and burning the turkey on Thanksgiving, Christmas presents that had to be returned for grocery and gas money, fistfights and doors ripped off hinges on New Year’s Eve. You had decided years ago that Hallmark channel magic was pure fiction…but sometimes you get glimpses of it now. Thanksgiving dinner in some unceremonious chow hall with Rio and your other friends feels more like a holiday than anything else you’ve ever known. “You still in Africa?”

“It’s Djibouti, Mama, I told you. It’s on the Horn. Across the sea is Yemen and Saudi Arabia.”

“Why can’t they put y’all to work in your own goddamn country?”

“Well, we do that too sometimes.” You stall, listening to her smoking. Rio glances up at you from where he’s still reading on the floor. “They have some incredible beaches here. Yesterday morning we went down to the water and there were all these cute kids playing, and they only spoke French but Rio showed them how to play tic-tac-toe by drawing a board in the sand—”

“I like the beach,” she says, and you know you’ve made a mistake. “You remember that?”

Deflated now: “Yeah, Mama. I remember. Are the boys going to take you to Virginia Beach this summer?”

She scoffs. “We’ll see, but I doubt it. It’s expensive, girl.”

You sigh deeply. Rio was right. I shouldn’t have called. “We talked about this. I need to be saving up to get my own house one day, and my own car, and all those things I’ll need to have a life when I get out of the Navy—”

“And what about my house?!” Mama cries, damn near wails. “I’m gonna lose it! I can’t make the payments!”

You reply calmly: “Mama, that’s your house. That’s your business. And you’ve got more than one kid still living at home long after they’ve turned eighteen, so they need to be the people you’re asking to help, not me.”

“You’re gonna let your Mama be homeless? Is that what you called to tell me on Mother’s Day? What the hell kind of daughter are you?”

“I got out!” you shout into the phone, and Rio is scrambling off the floor to rush to you. “I’m learning things and I’m making money and I’m building schools and hospitals on the other side of the fucking planet, and you can’t be proud of me because you think it means you’ve failed, but the truth is that you could have gotten out too! All of you could have! But you didn’t, it was me, it was just me, and now you hate me for it!”

“You need to come home now,” Mama says. “You gotta take care of me, take care of your Mama. You only got one and she needs you, so you gotta heed me. That’s what’s right.”

“I am not going to spend the rest of my life watching you get wasted in that filthy house, and I’d work where, at the Dollar General? At Arby’s? And get knocked up by the first guy who shows any interest?”

“You’re giving me heart palpitations. I’m gonna have to go to the emergency room and it’s all your fault.”

Rio is whispering into your other ear, one of his massive palms resting on the back of your neck: “Just hang up. It’s not worth it. You can hang up, just hang up…”

“I want things to be normal,” you tell Mama, you plead, tears stinging in your eyes. “I’ve tried so hard to get along with everyone, and help you as much as I can, but no matter what I do it’s not enough, and you’re always mad at me, and you’re always fighting with me—”

“You’re damn right I’m fighting with you, because you’re a spiteful, selfish child.”

“Hang up,” Rio is murmuring. “Hang up, hang up, hang up…”

“Mama,” you say, your voice strangled. “I’m sorry. I have to go now.”

“When I’m homeless, you know you got no one but yourself to blame—”

You hit the red button to end the call, throw your phone down onto the bed, stare at the wall and swallow noisily, choking back sobs. You won’t let yourself cry. You’ve cried enough for them already. You have to keep moving forward. The only way out is through. “You were right,” you say to Rio at last, quiet and raspy. Your hands are trembling. “I shouldn’t have called.”

“Hey.” He grabs your face roughly, forces you to look at him with your miserable shimmering eyes, grins hugely. “I’m your mom now, bitch.”

You laugh as tears spill down your cheeks, let him bury you in one of his smothering bear hugs, cling to him like a life raft in a storm.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond fanfiction

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tinytennisskirt · 3 months ago

Text

Tease

summary: a poorly written horny montage of Patrick’s crush on you and how he uses sexual urges to mask the fact he’s completely head over heels for you

warnings: teasing, unprotected sex, mention of oral f!receiving, kissing, kissing Art onceee one timeee, a slight moment of misreading but it’s not actually misreadingggg

Oh Patrick is insane when he has a crush on you. Absolutely insane, he turns himself into this stupid fucking dick of a jock when you’re around during practice, playing to impress you as if his tennis swing will make you fall into his lap, his bed…

He balances the innocence of his crush on you with the idea of you on your knees and he can’t help but wonder what you feel like. And it’s only to combat the feeling that he wants to take you out on a real date, do stupid shit with you like take walks and watch rom-coms and kiss the tears off your face when you’re crying over some animal video you saw online. His method is effective but nothing ever beats the idea of you being his best friend and girlfriend all in one. Nothing beats the idea of coming home to you at the end of a day. He’s turning into some wholesome freak and it’s scaring him.

When you’re talking he hears every word you say but with a slight echo because he’s busy wondering when it’s appropriate to kiss you between sentences. You’re his friend, you’ll meet him after class but in his head it’s terrifying and completely thrilling that you want to spend time with him. Usually he’d be cocky about it but with you he feels like he’s 13 with a schoolboy crush the way you reduce his stomach to butterflies. A schoolgirl crush maybe.

And when you’re with him on the bleachers and your hand rests on his knee he wonders about how your hand would feel wrapped around him and he can’t help it, it’s the only thing he can do to keep from telling you that you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen and to combat the idea that he wants to wake up next to you for the rest of his life because he’s just that sure that you’re it. It’s going to be you.

Art knows Patrick has a problem. At the mention of your name his neck snaps to pay attention, even after his own name was called about ten times. Art just chuckles. “You’re going to have to tell her sooner or later. Pretty sure she’s got you figured out, bud.”

And yes, you have an inkling that he likes you but the extent of which you have no idea. He has no idea that when his hands slip down his boxers at night while he reminds himself of how perfect you are, your hand makes it’s own way down your stomach and breaks your waistband, thinking about him too.

You’d never say it. The crush he has is something you like to play around with. It’s fun to make a twenty-year-old man blush.

Art and Patrick invite you to pregame a party and you show up with a case of twisted tea and a miniskirt with (thank god) shorts built in but the presence of your perfect thighs in his line of sight, of course you notice how he zones out on your body. Of course his eyes linger on your hips, your thighs, your chest, it’s what keeps him from thinking about how gorgeous your smile is and how much he wants to see it between kisses, in between breaths.

Then there’s the day you show up to tennis in a halter top and even Art is a little distracted by the low cut. The other girls practicing on the court all want to know where you got it because it held the girls sooo well during practice. Patrick missed almost every ball you hit at him. He tried. You smirked and you were so so pretty as you cheered at all the extra points that came from distracting him.

The flirting was occasionally physical. Patrick sometimes allowed himself the grace of a hand on your back when you were next to him and you didn’t seem to mind. It wasn’t exactly flirting but it sure felt like it.

Patrick is a pretty physical guy altogether, his spatial awareness not great but also partially something unintentional. So when his face gets close to yours in conversation, you never bat an eye. But you do bat your eyelashes and listen to him forget what he was going to say or begin to stumble over his words. It always feels a little emasculating, but Patrick loves it, surprisingly. You turn him into something weak. Nobody has ever done that to him before.

You in your short skirts and low cut shirts and you with your perfect body making it absolutely impossible to avoid looking at you, but helping so much to distract from the fact you’re kind and sweet and completely perfect. The need to run his hands over your waist, hips, and ass is the perfect distraction from the want to kiss your cheek, nose, and forehead. Fuck!

It’s so fun to drink with him and call him pretty with his face so close to yours you can smell the fizz of the orange soda he mixed with his vodka. Fun to smirk and rest your finger under his chin and talk to him with your noses practically touching. Fun to sit on his lap just because it’s ‘comfortable’ and feel him struggle to hide the fact he’s hard. He’s looking at Art for help but Art knows it’s not true misery- he’s doing Patrick a favour.

Having Patrick in your dorm room late at night and you’re in these short, loose pajama shorts that show off your ass and bending to pick up your laundry off the floor. Watching his jaw slack just a little and seeing him scramble to pretend he was looking elsewhere. He’s a mess over you, going home and jerking himself off to all the dirty imagery you’ve given him just by being around him. He’s breathing hard by the end of it and he’s completely spent and he’s been home ten minutes having come three fucking times.

Going to a diner with Patrick and Art and both boys are all-too focused on the way you eat the strawberry from the side of your milkshake. You blink, looking at them both as they act as if they were staring at the menu.

The second the boys are alone back at Art’s dorm Patrick is gushing. “You see what she does? It’s like it’s on purpose.”

“No, I- I definitely see that,” Art says. “She’s always like that? Even when it’s just you two?”

“Always. She wears the least amount of clothes possible, she’s touching… me, she’s got this smirk, this sly one- I think she’s trying to kill me.”

Art agrees and admits that he can see what Patrick sees in you aside from the fact you act a bit like a slut when he’s around. But Art has observed you in other settings and you’re no slut in general. The second Patrick is home his hand is down his boxers thinking about how it’s all for him, seeing the intention through your actions.

And the next time you’re with him you’re in another short skirt and crop top as well as one of Patrick’s big zip up hoodies on and he’s trying to look past how it feels to see you sit so pretty in his clothes. His crush is absolutely massive and unfortunately so is his dick, so hard that it hurts, as he imagines fucking you right there right then. That short skirt bunching around your waist as you bounce on his cock… the idea of it is all too much.

You move closer to him and you ask him a question but he’s not hearing it. He’s too focused on the fact you’re not wearing a bra under your tank top. Your pointer finger taps under his chin and his face is so close to yours. He answers your question, his eyes flickering between your eyes and your lips and that beautiful smirk spreads up your face again. He looks half drunk on you, his eyes so half-lidded. He’s imagining his fingers in your mouth instead of thinking about what it would be like to kiss you.

His crush is driving him insane and he would have kissed you if he didn’t have to go meet Art in ten minutes. He knows you know he likes you. You know he knows you like him and the second he’s gone you’re on your bed with your hand down your underwear because there’s nothing more fun than the game you’re playing with him but the game doesn’t get you what you need. Not yet.

“I want to fuck her so bad,” Patrick confesses to Art over his beer. “It’s not even funny anymore.”

“I’m with you,” Art says after hearing the whole story. “I mean I would… I would be the same way.”

“You think she wants me too?” He asked. He hated sounding like he had a nerdy crush on some popular girl. “I mean- fuck, honestly. I’m going to lose my mind over her.”

Art just nods in agreement.

Getting high with Art and Patrick near midnight and you’re outside on the grass on a blanket of yours and you’re in one of Patrick’s t-shirts because you don’t want yours to smell like marijuana. The shirt is a saving grace when you stand but when you sit and your thighs are on display the way they are, both boys are finding themselves a bit stuck on where else to look. Patrick having an especially hard time as you’ve draped your legs across his, the back of your upper thigh the part resting against his dick. He’s too aware of it as you shift just slightly, pressing more against him and he has to not make any noise.

You look at Patrick and ask him gently what’s wrong? He’s all flushed. You ask if it’s from the weed and if he needs water or a snack or something but he could truly not be high enough. He’s staring at your lips, how full they are, how sweet they’d be to kiss and how fulfilling it would be to kiss down your chest, your stomach, between your legs. Art can sense the tension from across the blanket so he suggests something stupid, a plan to fix things up a bit. He proposes truth or dare.

You laugh because you haven’t played it in years but you agree and so does Patrick and Art opens it up with Patrick. Patrick goes for truth and Art asks him something simple. “How many times do you jerk off in a day?”

You giggled and Patrick groaned just a little. His answer was three. Usually. You weren’t surprised and you nudged him just a little bit, teasing him for his answer. Patrick then asks you and you say dare. He then dares you to finish the rest of the bowl Art had packed. You do so.

It goes around again twice until it’s Art asking you. Truth or dare?

You pick dare and this time Art plays true wingman. Or tries to. He’s so sure of himself. “I dare you… to kiss one of us.” He says. He’s SO sure you’ll take this chance to kiss Patrick, who you’re draped across and leaning against. But you don’t, you move over him and crawl to where Art is, kissing him gently. Art is more than surprised but Patrick is just staring at you, going over that decision of yours. You chose to kiss Art instead of him… it should have hurt. But it didn’t. Instead it just existed alongside every other fantasy he’d had of you. And you ask Patrick now, pulling away from Art who is wide-eyed and frankly impressed by how well you kiss, truth or dare?

Patrick says dare and he is met with, “I dare you…To kiss me.” It’s an order and it’s a dare and you’re giggling like it’s the funniest thing in the world but it’s all he’s been able to think about since he met you and you were asking…

Art is grinning. It’s the outcome he’s been waiting for. And you’re waiting. “No.” He says. “Sorry, I’m not- I won’t-“ he says. Or he tries to say he can’t kiss you here, not JUST because of a dare. He wants to kiss you when HE wants to. Your eyes are wide and you sit cross legged, looking a bit paler than you should.

“I’m sorry,” you say, immediately straightening out. Your hand goes up to cover your mouth but it doesn’t get all the way up. All of your teasing, all of the fun you’d been having with him, and you finally tried to close a gap to be met with refusal. “I’m sorry, Partrick. That was too much.”

Patrick looks at you and your big genuine eyes and he wishes he didn’t stop himself but some stupid part of him, although he wanted you on top of him nearly every night, although the image of you in your pajama shorts were burned into your mind as a permanent form of motivation for masturbation, even though he thought day in and day out about pleasing you, he wouldn’t kiss you. Not for fun. Not without intention. Because at the base of all of this he did like you. A lot. He couldn’t find the words…

His lack of response is what provokes your further mortification. And suddenly you’re doubting everything you knew. Did he like you? Why wouldn’t he? You thought for sure he would. “I’m so sorry, I’m going to go,” you say.

Art shakes his head, “It’s fine, you can stay.” He says in Patrick’s silence. But you’d kissed Art now and not Patrick and one would have been meaningless and the other meaningful but it was all a stupid game anyway and you had just made a major mistake. An even bigger mistake than you knew it was.

“I have class tomorrow anyway,” you say kindly, pulling your shorts down just a bit further for more coverage. “I’m really sorry. Both of you. I’ll talk to you guys soon.” The embarrassment is crushing and Patrick isn’t saying anything and now you’re stuck with some stupid consequences on your back. This was what you got for being a supposed tease, you thought as you grabbed your things. You should have been more clear on how Patrick felt before you asked him to do something like that. He didn’t want to kiss you. You misread him?

“No, really, don’t go,” Art says. “Please.” And he makes eye contact with you in a way that sends a message, which gestures you to Patrick.

Patrick looks at you. “Come here.”

You move back toward him. The game is over. This is him, this is not his dare. And he kisses you before you can wonder what it is he wants. It’s a good kiss. It’s long and it’s more tender than you’d have imagined from him. And when it ends and you both pull away, Art is nowhere to be found.

Your eyes meet his, his eyes meet yours and it’s only a matter of minutes before you’re pressed against the door of your dorm room trying to unlock it while Patrick’s mouth trails over your jaw and neck with so much haste you’d think he was on a timer. You manage to open the door and you’re stumbling in loudly, kissing and slamming the door behind you. Nothing mattered aside from him in this moment as your shorts made their way off of your body. Patrick didn’t even try to remove your shirt as he took off his own clothes. You could feel him hard against you as he pressed your body to his.

You’re giggling between kisses, slightly high, like something is funny. His hands on your jaw as you walk backward toward your own bed. You wanted to tease him for months on end, you wanted to give him something to want so he was going to show you just how fucking badly he wanted it. In seconds your hand finds purpose as it slips down his shorts and finds his dick. It’s all he’s wanted (aside from taking you out to a really nice meal) and he groans loudly as your hand grips him. “Fuck, I want you so badly,” he says against your lips and you just grin, stroking him up and down and in two seconds his shorts and boxers are down and you’re on your knees next to your bed and as your hands work his shaft, your lips gently kiss his tip and he wants so much to push your head down but he swears he isn’t that kind of guy.

You’re so gorgeous, your lips wrapped around his dick but he can’t sit and watch it happen, he needs you now and you know it as he taps under your chin and you eagerly stand to kiss him again, his leaking cock pressed against the space between the end of your third and your bare thigh. Patrick can barely take it, there’s been so much he’s thought about and you’re kissing him like you need it and the second the words, “fuck me,” fall from your lips he’s on the task. He almost ripped your underwear off you, the lust of it all gets the best of him and he’s on the bed, long arms ridding you of your underwear and his hand dipping between your thighs. You’re so wet, it’s all for him, he’s always wondered how affected you were by him. In seconds he’s positioned and in one thrust he’s inside you.

It’s almost violent how rough he is. He’s already lifted your leg over his shoulder and he’s fucking into you harder than he even knew he could and you’re moaning in his ear and it’s all he’s wanted for far too fucking long. “God- you feel so good.” He groans, hand gripping the flesh of your thigh as it rests against his shoulder. Your hand is tangled in his curls, pulling ever so slightly. This was for every time you bent over in a short skirt, this was for every time you sat on his lap, this was for every time you gave him that sly smirk. And you could feel all of it, all of him as he pounded into you mercilessly. “Fuck…”

You’re moaning his name just how he imagined it and it feels almost pornographic the way he’s getting exactly what he wants. But your nails are digging into the skin of his back and you’re enjoying it too, so he’s happy you’re happy and it’s all perfect. “Harder,” you plead and you’re breathing hard, moaning his name louder as he does exactly what you say. He hates feeling his orgasm approaching he doesn’t want to waste this perfect situation. “Fuck, I’m so close, I’m so close-“ he manages. You kiss him and it’s harsh and a little sloppy but it’s the fact he’s rapidly and roughly thrusting into you that makes it a bit difficult. Patrick leans away from just for a moment to see you better and, “God, you’re so beautiful,” slips out of his mouth and you’re kissing him again. “I’m so close-“

“Uh huh?” You smirk and it’s gorgeous and it’s evil.

“Oh, fuck, I’m-,” he couldn’t get the full sentence out, skin against skin harder than before, harder than anything and you’re moaning as he finishes into you just as hard. Your hands slide over his skin and back into his hair and he kisses you as his orgasm is dying down into just heavy breathing and a slight sheen of sweat. You’re smiling like something is funny and without the thrusting Patrick takes the chance to kiss you again, you giggling between every breath and cupping his face sweetly like he didn’t just fuck you into the mattress.

“Say you’ll-“ he’s interrupted by a kiss. “Go out with me.” Patrick says, cat out of the bag whoops he fucked you turns out he really fucking likes you. “Go out with me.”

“When?” You ask. He’s not expecting that answer. He grins and kisses you again, hard, passionately. And you’re giggling again and you’re adorable and he hasn’t even pulled out yet.

“Tomorrow,” he answers. Still breathing hard.

“Perfect.” You grin so widely. You’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen and he’s finally letting himself feel the wholesome side to wanting you. He cleans you up, which he’s never done for anyone, but cleaning ends up with his head between your thighs just to finish the job and another tied end is Patrick no longer has to wonder how you taste.

He doesn’t tell Art about any of it.

And he picks you up the next day and you’re gorgeous and your skirt is mid-thigh and as fun as it was, Patrick likes being able to talk to you without having to worry too much about staring at anything the wrong way. It was fun to tease but it’s more fun when the date is over and you’re feeling euphoric over the way he looks at you and his smile and how his hands slide around your waist before he pulls you into a kiss. There’s no reason to tease anymore. He’s right where you want him. And Patrick has no need to want anymore, he has too, in all the ways he could possibly need. He kisses you and it feels right. Sweet.

Sure, a few hours later he’s back in your bed but it’s only after the longest conversation of your life. Apparently, Patrick has kissed Art too and it’s something you laugh about for far too long. Without anything to want he’s no longer able to distract himself from just how perfect you are. He kisses your forehead when he says goodnight and all is well. Ask anyone though, Patrick is absolutely insane about his girlfriend.

#challengers #patrick zweig #art donaldson #challengers x reader #challengers fic #tinytennisskirt #patrick zweig challengers #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig fluff #patrick zweig smut

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tsukimefuku · 5 months ago

Text

CHAPTER TWO: MISTAKE OF FACT ❀ HIGURUMA SENSEI SERIES

masterlist link | mdni!

❀ mistake of fact.

the concept “mistake of fact” describes a situation in which someone acts unaware of circumstances that could turn their actions into criminal acts. this can affect the assessment of their intent or culpability, reducing their penalty or even excluding the criminal nature of said act.

wc: 7.2K | ❀ pairing for the series: professor!higuruma x student!reader

❀ summary.

classes, law Firm meetings, and a little grit about it all. after taking and not doing so well on your first criminal law class assessment test, you decide to get hammered at the campus party. you just didn’t expect to accidentally bump into the professor of said class there.

❀ tags and c/w.

non-curse au. college au. silly slow-burn rom-com between professor and college student (this is purely a work of fiction, okay guys?). smoking and drinking. corporate trauma. itafushi is also a slow-burn. higuruma hates doing cardio (mood). nanami needed a subplot and kusakabe had to be in it, the voices told me so. exams suck. campus parties are a special kind of hell. the return of the ugly red scarf.

❀ notes etc.

as i said previously, some characters will have their subplots, hope you enjoy reading them too (they all tie into the main plot). yes I’m working through some issues regarding the lawyering world while writing this fic, how did you notice?

also, some love for the betas: @redlikerozez and @dottedsilktie thank you two so much 💛

You had a habit, a very ugly one. Ironically, the habit you used to unwind was currently driving you insane as you tapped around your pockets, failing to find the lighter for the cigarette you held in your mouth for the past two minutes. You stroked your bangs back in annoyance and grunted, a strand of hair poking up like a spike.

“Fucking hell,” you muttered to yourself the moment the bells went off, letting you know it was time for yet another Criminal Law class. At least this time you managed to wake up somewhat early and were already by the building.

Good job, me.

“Oh, hey!” you heard the light-hearted voice chirp from a distance. Darting your eyes towards it, there came the fluffy ball of pink hair and upbeat mood frolicking in your direction.

“Hey, Itadori! Do you by any chance have a lighter?”

He shrugged, “no, I’m sorry.”

Of course he didn’t. As the best track field runner you had ever met, you wondered if Itadori even knew what a cigarette was.

“You should stop smoking,” a broodier voice said. You noticed the spiky black hair student who was also approaching.

“Ah, get off my case, Fushiguro,” you retorted, putting your cigarette away, “which class are you guys here for?”

“Criminal law! And you?” Itadori replied.

“Oh, me too. I didn’t see you guys in his class last week, though.”

“We saw you!” Yuuji answered, completely oblivious that this was definitely something which would render you uncomfortable. You blushed, and after a few seconds, Fushiguro elbowed him. “Ouch, why did you do that?”

Fushiguro sighed loudly at his friend’s cluelessness, and you sheepishly giggled.

“Yeah… I guess everybody saw me.”

The three of you were sharing an uncomfortable silence for a few moments before Itadori spoke again.

“So… Why isn’t Kugisaki enrolled?”

You shrugged, “she wanted to have other classes during this year to fast track her internship opportunities, I guess. I kind of did the same thing.”

“Is that allowed?” Yuuji inquired.

“Yeah, it is, as long as you take some other 101 classes before doing it,” you answered, while you three began walking into the building.

“I did that too, I want to pursue an internship in the public defense office as soon as possible,” Megumi interjected.

“Oh, nice! Me too,” you answered him, “but I’d totally take a position in a private law firm if given the chance.”

Fushiguro made a face you couldn’t quite identify, and didn’t answer anything in return.

The conversation about an internship in criminal defense died down as the three of you entered the elevator together, and while you were walking towards the classroom, Yuuji and Megumi began bantering.

More specifically, Itadori seemed keen on making small-talk about amenities, meanwhile Fushiguro simply did not take the hint and was shooting down every conversation topic his friend tried to bring up. You felt for Yuuji, noticing he was clearly eager to engage Megumi in a conversation, but the guy wouldn’t budge. At that point, you entertained Itadori for the remainder of the quick walk down the corridor.

Perhaps, you thought to yourself, Megumi was the clueless one.

Entering the classroom, you saw Professor Higuruma already seated by his desk fidgeting around with his glasses. This time, there was no suit jacket in sight, and he wore a white buttoned up shirt with a black tie, all under a suit vest.

You weren’t too proud to realize that you noticed the way his vest hugged his torso just right.

To top it off, after he was finished fidgeting with his glasses, Higuruma opened the cuffs of his white shirt, rolled up the sleeves up to his elbows, and slightly loosened his tie with two fingers hooked around it.

The way his arm muscles popped while he was sliding his fingers side to side around the fabric of the tie had every thought in your head poofing away instantly, and you looked away before your staring became too obvious.

The other students were coming in quickly. You made your way towards three miraculously empty seats in the front and sat on one end, while the boys took their places right beside you.

Higuruma noticed you and nodded softly as you met his eyes. You weren’t sure if he’d remember your face, but given the circumstances, it’d probably be hard not to. You greeted him back, smiling, and gestured around your regular-not-pajamas blouse, to which he replied by discreetly gesturing down his clean, not-coffee stained white buttoned up shirt.

Cute.

This time you thought that maybe sitting in the front would keep you safe from the Professor’s experiments. You had already tested your luck sitting in the back and it surely backfired — no pun intended.

After the students were settled, Higuruma got himself up and walked towards the white board, writing self-defense on it. He then turned on his heels, shoved his hands in his pockets and asked, “can anybody tell me what self-defense is?”

From your row, only Megumi raised his hand, but Higuruma’s eyes landed on Yuuji.

“You. What’s your name?” the Professor inquired, pointing at Itadori.

You heard him gulping by your side at that very same moment.

“Itadori Yuuji.”

“Then, Itadori, tell me what you think self-defense is.”

“I mean… self-defense is protecting yourself from someone trying to hurt you.”

Higuruma nodded, “you’re on the right track, but that’s not the entire answer. There is still something missing. Criminal Law occupies itself with criminal activities, so why do we need to study acts taken under self-defense? What else can you tell me about self-defense?”

Yuuji didn’t come up with something else to say, so Higuruma lifted the whiteboard marker in front of him.

“Itadori, I’ll throw this at you now.”

You and Megumi were instantly shocked, and Itadori began stuttering.

“W-wha-”

Higuruma actually threw the marker towards Yuuji’s chest, but Yuuji quickly grabbed it, glancing incredulously at the Professor.

“Now, that wasn’t self-defense in the way that it interests Criminal Law,” Higuruma noted, resuming the class as if nothing had happened.

Truth was, you could try sitting in the back, in the front, or anywhere in between, but when it came to Higuruma Hiromi’s class, apparently, there was no safe place to hide.

“It wasn’t?!” Itadori exclaimed.

“No. Self-defense, you see, is used to exclude the illegal quality of an action that would otherwise be considered a crime, like assault and battery, for example.”

Higuruma stepped into Yuuji’s direction, and excused himself as he picked the marker back in his hand, leaving the three of you dumbfounded as to how he could nonchalantly do these absurd things and think it was just alright.

The professor began writing on the white board and the classroom was filled with scribbling and typing sounds.

“Self-defense is when someone uses force, against another person, to protect themselves from harm or imminent danger offered by this other person’s criminal actions. In that sense, you didn’t use force against me, you solely protected yourself, hence, that’s not actually self-defense as the concept that matters to us in this classroom.”

Well, the example was crystal clear, indeed. Once again, he illustrated what he wanted to say brilliantly.

But holy shit, did he really have to do those crazy things every damn time?

“Before we proceed, I have some leisure homework for you all. I’d like everybody to watch the first three episodes of this TV series for us to discuss during our next lecture the evolution from legitimate self-defense to extrapolating it and finally committing a crime.”

He wrote the name for the show on the white board.

A shy hand lifted on the other end of the class, and a girl with blue hair and crooked bangs spoke after Higuruma pointed at her.

“Professor, won’t you ask us to watch one of those old movies other teachers usually do in introductory classes?”

“Most definitely not,” he answered — not without scoffing first, “this is Criminal Law, here things are interesting. If you’d like to sleep, go to Professor Nanami’s class, Commercial Law I.”

A tiny chuckle echoed from the back.

“Someone gets it,” he concluded before proceeding with the lecture.

The class went on without a hiccup with Yuuji quickly forgetting the marker debacle a few minutes in. After Higuruma was finished talking about the day’s topic, though, he remembered everyone about next week's assessment test, receiving mumbled complaints in return.

“Yeah, I know. I hate these things too, but unfortunately we have orders from above. Be sure to study everything up until the end of the self-defense module,” Higuruma said as he sank into his desk’s chair and fished his phone out of his pocket, “I wish you all best of luck.”

As the class was done, everyone began leaving.

“So, where are you going now?” Yuuji asked as you were currently fumbling around in your bag looking for your lighter — perhaps it wasn’t in your pockets after all, right?

“I… if you two are tight on time just go without me, I’m looking for something in here and it might take some time,” you answered, thinking that some physics law might’ve been broken. Your bag seemed larger from the inside than from outside, and your lighter had surely disintegrated into thin air.

“It’s fine, we can wait,” Fushiguro answered.

Yuuji suddenly seemed to remember something and came at you sort of hyped, asking “will you be at the campus party by the end of next week?!”

“Sure, sure,” you answered absentmindedly, still fondling your things around and considering flipping it all on the ground.

“There will be a party next week on campus?” Higuruma asked with his eyes still glued to his phone’s screen.

Fushiguro elbowed Yuuji again, as it was kind of a secret from faculty members, just so none of them would butt in — there were the clueless ones, like Professor Gojo, for instance, that would always find their way into the free drinks and free food celebrations that were supposedly just for students.

“Y-Yes… it will be pretty late, though.”

Higuruma hummed, completely unfazed, “when I was a student here, we’d usually have those after 11PM to avoid faculty members, it’s a good idea. My suggestion is that you all just keep the noise down and use the space behind the brown brick building, there’s a blind spot there from the rest of the campus.”

Yuuji and Megumi shared a look before nodding hesitantly. Higuruma noticed they were both somewhat worried and sighed.

“Don’t worry, I’m not telling the other Professors, and you can all be completely sure I won’t be there.”

The bated breath the two students shared finally subsided.

“God fucking damnit where is this fucking lighter?” you mumbled to yourself.

That caught Higuruma’s attention, and he called your name.

Your hand stammered inside your bag and you looked at him.

“Do you need a lighter?” he asked you, lifting his eyes from his phone towards your direction.

You had the impression his eye bags were smaller that day.

“Yes, I lost mine.”

He reached into one of his pockets and pulled a small, yellow, disposable lighter, stretching his arm in your direction, “you can take this one, I have tons of these.”

You got up, threw your bag over your shoulder, and went to pick it up from his hands. As your fingers wrapped around the lighter, you accidentally locked eyes with him, now sure his eye bags were definitely smaller. Higuruma spared you a small smile and you immediately felt your cheeks warm as you took the tiny yellow lighter from his fingers and stepped back.

I’m pathetic.

“So, we’re good to go?” Fushiguro asked, looking at you.

“We’re good to go,” you answered him, then looking at Higuruma, “thank you, Professor.”

“It’s no trouble, Sanrio” he answered, redirecting his attention back to his phone, completely unaware he had just called you that out loud.

After a few seconds, realizing what he'd just done, Higuruma sheepishly lifted his eyes, seeing two confused boys and you looking away with your hand over your mouth, coughing softly. You bore the same weirdly twisted face you made days before, when he asked you to leave in the mock expulsion.

Truth was you wanted to laugh, equal parts amused and mortified.

“Sanrio? What?” Yuuji asked.

“My next class is Civil Law II! What about you, Fushiguro? We should go!” you blurted out, ignoring Yuuji’s question while stepping away, “bye, Professor. See you next class!”

“You three have a good day,” Higuruma muttered, sinking further into his chair as he looked away to conceal his own embarrassment.

The boys, still at a loss, followed you outside, also bidding Higuruma a good day.

***

This is hell. I’m a smoker and this is my personal, dantesque circle of hell for that sin.

With one leg launching in front of the other at a steady pace, Higuruma was jogging down the street while accompanied solely by the rhythmic thuds of his feet on the pavement. He had already put at least a mile behind him.

His blood felt like battery acid pumping through his veins, and lungs and muscles were burning with the strain of an exercise he was doing for the third time this week thanks to the encouragement of his best friend.

This time, however, there was no distraction from the discomfort while Higuruma dragged himself completely alone on this morning run. His usual jogging partner, Nanami, told him just ten minutes before the scheduled time that he would not be able to make it.

“Did something happen?” Higuruma asked on the phone, “It’s unlike you to cancel appointments with such short notice.”

Truthfully, Nanami was someone extremely considerate of other people’s time.

“Nothing too serious. I’ll have to be in a meeting with a Labor Law associate. It involves one of the companies we represent here at the firm,” he replied with an involuntary sigh. Nanami did not enjoy being taken by surprise like this.

“A meeting for one of those Union settlements?”

“Yes.”

“Yeesh, good luck with that. Don’t be too harsh on the workers, though.”

“I’ll just be there to oversee the meeting and report the outcome to our client, I have no say in the matter.”

“Really? Couldn’t the Labor Law associate do that, then?”

“It’s Kusakabe. He doesn’t do anything he’s not specifically paid to do.”

“Oh, right.”

Higuruma paused for a moment. He was already at their usual meeting point, all propped up and ready to go, but didn’t quite feel like subjecting himself to that torture alone.

“You should just do your run today, I’ll join you back after tomorrow,” Nanami told him, as if reading his mind.

“I don’t know. Having company makes this slightly more bearable.”

“Is that so?” Nanami barely concealed the hint of amusement in his voice.

“Tsk, shut up.” Higuruma retorted.

Nanami huffed, nearly a chuckle, and proceeded, “this routine seems to have affected you positively, you shouldn’t miss a day for such a pedestrian reason.”

It was true. As a consolation prize for this suffering, the Professor had managed to sleep better those past few days and his mood had improved too.

Prior to his breakdown, Higuruma had never given much thought about his overall health. After he came back to normal life — or as normal as it could be —, he tried to eat properly and exercise at the gym most days of the week.

“I guess,” Higuruma finally conceded, defeated, loathing cardio with every fiber of his being.

“Then, off you go.”

“Okay. I’ll run and suffer alone today after being ditched,” Higuruma stated, half in jest.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Hiromi,” Nanami remarked, “you can do it just fine.”

Just fine… I’m not sure if “fine” is the word I’d choose for this self-imposed torture.

Taking one of the final turns, Higuruma passed by a storefront. On it, there was a big illustration of Hello Kitty that covered most of the space. He hadn’t noticed that store before, but seeing the cartoonish cat with its pink bow brought an amused smile to his face as he remembered the student that, for some random reason, decided to attend his class using a kitty’s pajamas — you.

That moment got him to reminisce on the occasions that he, himself, was also too tired or too out of it to properly change before going to class, leading to some similar debacles during his undergrad years.

Ever since that day, the Professor had nicknamed you Sanrio in his head, a silly inside joke with himself.

As he reached the end of the usual route, Higuruma paused and hunched over, inhaling deeply through his mouth, oxygen failing to properly enter his cells — or at least it felt like it.

I wonder if I can take a taxi to go back home...

Involuntarily hearing Nanami’s voice in his head chastising him for wanting to take the easy shortcut, Higuruma grunted and took a deep breath before jogging his way back.

***

Nanami churned on his coffee’s last sip as if that alone would be enough to realign his chakras and soothe his growing headache.

It wasn’t.

Nanami rarely saw himself pulled into other people’s work, but he detested each and every time it happened. As someone that usually planned his day thoroughly, with every minute properly accounted for, these types of unforeseen events would, most times, end up causing a domino effect over everything he had arranged in his schedule.

This time, however, he wasn’t sure if his distaste for the situation stemmed solely from the fact that his agenda got fondled around.

Something else about it was bothering him, even if he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

The contrast on the meeting table was clear — on the company’s side, he sat with Kusakabe, at least three mid-level associates, two juniors and one random intern. Behind them, the firm’s logo hung high on the wall, casting its brushed steel sheen over the expensive mahogany table.

On the other side, though, sat an Union representative with one single lawyer beside him. Since the firm had rescheduled this meeting on short notice four times, demanding it took place in one of their offices — which was everything but close to where the union-office was located —, the Union only had enough money to pay for the expenses of sending the minimum amount of people required to legally sign a settlement.

Nanami slowly realized, as the negotiations went on, what was bothering him so much.

This wasn’t a negotiation meeting.

It was a power play consisting of intimidation techniques. Clearly an attempt at wearing the Union down and pushing them into accepting any settlement to end the strike as soon as possible.

It all said we can take you on — if you don’t accept our offer and take this to Court, we have the money, the people and the ways to win this fight.

“These are our terms, as we had already discussed, printed and ready for you to sign,” Kusakabe remarked, as he pushed a pile of papers towards the two.

The Union representative seemed ready to crumble under a put-upon expression, his black hair parted in the middle and thick framed glasses not doing nearly enough to conceal it. He knew exactly what was going on, how this had happened, and also that this strike couldn’t go on for much longer without causing serious issues in the lives of all the workers.

The company was successful in their attempt of making it look like they tried to settle the dispute, and it had been long enough that people would start falling like dominos in the firing list.

The blond woman beside him seemed ready to toss her attorney’s license in the nearest dumpster and go do something else with her life.

The Union representative took the pen in his hand and sighed.

“Are you positive you want to do this, Ijichi?” the lawyer asked, looking at him with a tinge of concern in between her brows.

“We don’t have another choice, Nitta,” he replied, signing those papers away so quickly it felt like his hands were about to get burned in the fiery pits of hell.

She exhaled sharply while leaning back on her chair.

“I’m glad we got to settle this amicably. We expect you all back on the grounds by Monday,” Kusakabe concluded as he pulled the pile of papers back to him and lifted himself up on the chair.

Everyone got up, but when Kusakabe extended his hand towards Nitta, she and Ijichi just turned around, stepping towards the exit.

Nanami’s slight discomfort had grown into an actual stone weighing in his gut, and he didn’t quite think about what he ended up doing next.

He walked behind Nitta and Ijichi, and called them by their names — something that surprised them both, given they didn’t expect him and most of the people inside that meeting room to be paying any attention at all.

“So, you did listen to that meeting and weren't there just to add numbers?” Nitta asked begrudgingly.

“I did,” Nanami answered.

“What do you want?” Ijichi inquired, itching to get himself out of that building as quickly as possible. He felt dirty, to say the least, and needed a minimum of three full baths to feel like himself again.

“To give you both my business card.”

Both of them looked incredulous.

“I don’t mean any harm nor am I trying to get something out of a terrible situation. I just... That was...”

He really didn’t think this through.

“What I mean to say is that if there is anything you both need, this is my contact info.”

Nanami pulled the slim piece of cardstock and offered it. Ijichi and Nitta shared a hesitant look right before she took it from his hands. With a bow, both of them left, still feeling a little dumbfounded.

“Are you trying to get yourself in trouble? You’ve made it to Partner in the firm, leave it alone,” a slightly muffled voice echoed behind Nanami. It was Kusakabe, who had just shoved a lollipop in his mouth and had his hands inside his pockets.

“That didn’t bother you at all?” Nanami inquired, gesturing towards the now emptying meeting room.

“I’m not paid to get bothered. I come, I do my job, and I go home.”

“Still,” Nanami remarked, “it was...”

“I know,” Kusakabe answered him. He took a few moments before sighing, leaning himself against a wall, and repeated in a lower tone, “I know.”

For the briefest moment, Kusakabe’s expression resembled a slight grimace.

“You don’t seem completely unbothered, even if you’re not getting paid to care,” Nanami stated.

Kusakabe looked at Nanami and said nothing as they made their way back into their respective offices.

***

Higuruma also had a bad habit.

Due to his terrible memory regarding people’s names, he gave everyone a nickname in his mind. Beyond calling you Sanrio, his nicknames for the pink haired fluffy guy and the brooding dude always by his side were, respectively, Clueless and Porcupine.

At that moment, he watched as Sanrio, Clueless and Porcupine sat beside one another while taking their first assessment test for the Criminal Law class.

You were so laser focused on the test, eyes darting from one end to the other of the paper frantically, hand periodically brushing your bangs back in desperation, that he feared you might actually end up accidentally activating a laser beam and burning the thing. Clueless was… well, clueless. He looked like someone who had never been properly alphabetized in his entire life. And finally, Porcupine didn’t seem bothered in the slightest, calmly reading and selecting each answer with the ease and certainty of someone that knew what he was doing.

He was sort of amused to realize Sanrio’s bangs had a small lock of hair poking out.

Higuruma glanced his eyes over the class, and made the sad realization he’d have dozens upon dozens of tests to grade and submit to the Dean the following morning.

What a nightmare, I’ll be here forever grading these after hours.

He had completely forgotten, earlier that day, that he’d have to deal with assessment test shenanigans. The information popped back into his mind five minutes before he arrived at the Uni, and Higuruma got a little desperate, remembering he needed to pick up the pile of tests inside the brown brick building’s print center before darting his way to class.

At least, he was more accustomed to running by then.

After parking near the building, Higuruma ran against the clock, and made it by the skin of his teeth. The Professor was completely relieved, failing to realize that his memory had fucked him over more than once that day.

You, on the other hand, weren’t fending off much better.

What do I do, there is more than one answer to this, it fucking depends, goddammit, you cursed inside your mind while answering most of the questions in that assessment test.

I need a cigarette.

You were particularly bad at taking multiple choice tests, especially in subjective areas — which was definitely the case for Criminal Law.

You had this little curse of wanting to select two different answers in nearly every question and always choosing the wrong one.

At least I can drink this failure away at the party today.

“Ten more minutes!” Higuruma’s voice echoed through the classroom, and you must’ve looked particularly more hectic than before, because you felt his eyes on you, and when looking up, noticed he seemed a little concerned.

Very charmingly concerned in that disheveled suit and slightly messy hair.

Ah, shut up, brain.

After the ten minutes flew by, a cacophony of pens being put down or clicked around could be heard. People got up, and one by one, the students put their tests over Higuruma’s desk. He dangled over his chair lazily, bidding his students a good morning with a mumble.

You were the last one left, and stared at your test like it was a nuke falling right into your future criminal defense attorney career. Sad wasn’t the best word for it — you felt disheartened.

Sighing defeatedly, you lifted yourself from your chair like your clothing was made of lead and walked towards Higuruma’s desk, handing him the paper. His eyes lifted towards you while he took the test from your hands.

“What did you think of the test?” Higuruma inquired, organizing all the papers into a neat pile.

You huffed.

“Sanrio is worried about this test,” you replied, smiling while poking a little fun at him.

His eyes widened a little, and for a second, Higuruma looked embarrassed.

“About that, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...” he began.

“Oh! It’s...”

Completely okay. Kinda sweet. Something I might’ve actually liked.

“Fine. I didn’t mind. It’s not always, but sometimes I nickname people in my head too.”

He offered you a discreet awkward nod, “okay, then.”

Noticing you might’ve made him unnecessarily uncomfortable, you decided to lighten up the air.

“So... No random experiment for torturing your minions today? I mean, the students.”

Higuruma chuckled softly.

“Ah, no. I figured this test was enough torture for one day,” he answered, spirited, “I’m not that ruthless.”

Remembering the Yuuji marker debacle, you thought about something for a moment before you resumed speaking.

“You know,” you began, “perhaps you should ask for students to volunteer before doing your… things.”

“I used to, actually,” he promptly answered.

“You did?” your voice sounded surprised.

Higuruma nodded, “Yes, but students rarely volunteered.”

That sounded a little off.

“Quick question, Professor. Did this scarcity of volunteers happen before or after the first volunteer demonstration?” you inquired.

“After. Why do you ask?” He asked while putting the tests into his briefcase.

Oh my God, he’s so clueless.

“No reason. Just curious.”

***

“Hey, people! I brought us beers!” Yuuji exclaimed, light spirited, as he walked towards you, Megumi, Nobara and Maki all seated on the grass behind the brick building. He quickly descended to sit beside the group.

“You are the best, but I’m not mixing today,” you thanked, greeting him with a cup full of pure vodka, “this should do the trick for tonight. Also, it’s pretty fucking cold for beer.”

“Is that why you’re wearing that thing?” Nobara inquired while pointing at your ugly red scarf around your neck.

“Get off my case, Nobara,” you retorted, gulping on your drink with some unidentifiable desperation.

“Shit, was the test that bad?” Maki asked you as she took a single can from Yuuji’s arms, while mindlessly pulling Nobara closer and kissing her head.

“It was weird, I was so confused, it felt like every question had at least two answers,” you complained, stretching your body over the grass.

“You probably did fine, you tend to be overly dramatic about these things,” Nobara stated while pulling another can from Yuuji, smacking on his shoulder with a fist. He whined in complaint, and she chuckled like a tiny ginger demon.

“I agree with Kugisaki, you’re smart!” Yuuji chirped in, while scrambling his way to sit beside Megumi, “I had no idea what I was doing. If you thought about at least two answers to each question, you’re already better than me.”

This poor, poor kid, you thought.

“There’s more to exams than just being smart, you need to know how to do them, and I do not, unfortunately…” you answered, a tinge of disappointment to your expression.

“This is solely an assessment test, anyway. It doesn’t compute in our final grades, there is no need to be so upset about it,” Megumi interjected, shushing himself when you glared at him.

He was terrible at comforting people.

“So, Fushiguro, I didn’t quite know what you’d like to drink, so I brought three types of beer,” Itadori mumbled, extending three different cans of beer towards Megumi like a raven with trinket offerings for his favorite human.

Not exactly smooth, but definitely cute.

Nobara and Maki shared a look, both of them with cheeky smiles on their faces. You covered your mouth to conceal your own smile — you were far from being as saucy as the power couple by your side — and waited with a bated breath for Megumi to pick up on the hint from Yuuji.

It was about time, considering it had been months of Yuuji trying to make a move.

“No, thank you, I won’t drink today,” Fushiguro cluelessly replied, and Itadori visibly deflated from that.

“T-then… I can grab a soda for you, or…” Itadori clumsily interjected, while scratching the back of his neck.

“There’s no need, I will go-”

Perhaps it was the vodka, the dreadful day or how much Megumi had just cock-blocked your shipping dreams, but you blurted out your next few words.

“For fucks sake, Fushiguro, if you don’t take a beer can from Itadori right now, I will body slam you into oblivion.”

“… We’re on the ground. How would that even-”

“Bitch, don’t test me.”

Fushiguro was somewhat taken aback by your interjection, but hesitantly extended his hand and picked one of the three beers Itadori had selected for him, prying it open with a wheezing click. Megumi looked at you, then the beer can, then at Itadori, suspiciously taking a tiny sip.

“It is… good,” he muttered, as a smile slowly returned to Yuuji’s Kirby persona.

“Now, thank him,” you complemented, pointing at Yuuji, “he did find three types of beer in this God-forsaken campus party only for you, after all. I’d never have bothered to do so, and I bet Maki and Nobara feel the same.”

The power couple raised their drinks in agreement towards you, and Fushiguro sighed.

“Thank you, Itadori.”

Yuuji happily nodded, “you’re welcome! Do you want something to eat? I could-”

“Baby steps, buddy… baby steps,” you interrupted, putting your hand over Yuuji’s shoulder. He nodded sheepishly while Megumi was at a loss.

“O-okay,” Itadori acquiesced.

Suddenly, you all heard a voice calling Megumi’s name from a distance, sounding like some kind of haunting, and began looking around as he buried his face in his hands.

“Who is that?” you asked.

“Megumi! Where’s the food!?” the voice inquired in a light hearted tone. In the distance, you saw a fluffy, white ball of hair approaching under sunglasses. At night.

Megumi groaned from the depths of his soul.

“Argh, for fucks sake,” he complained, well aware as to who was coming.

Trying to dodge the faculty members didn’t do much to keep his adoptive father away, apparently.

Not so far from there, Higuruma sat in a poorly lit office grading the tests the entire class had taken that morning. After finishing grading yours — and you didn’t do very well, just as you had anticipated — he muttered to himself, out loud, “what happened there, Sanrio?”

The Professor failed to notice he did remember your name perfectly, even if he kept calling you Sanrio.

“Will you sleep in here today?” a familiar voice scowled from the door, and Higuruma turned his face to meet the dusty blonde head of hair peeping through.

“I’ll just finish grading these and then I’ll go home, Kento,” Higuruma answered with a tired smile on his face.

“And couldn’t you have done that from home?” his friend asked, looking at the menacing pile of paper over the man’s desk, “or maybe tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, I’d never get to it if I had left it for later. I’m already here, might as well just ditch this Pavlovian nightmare as soon as possible,” the other stated, flailing a test on his hand before proceeding, “what are these even meant to assess? Someone’s capabilities of answering formulaic questions like trained dogs? Ugh.”

Higuruma was ranting.

Nanami huffed a slightly amused chuckle, but underneath it, he seemed a little beaten down.

“Is everything okay, Kento?” Higuruma asked, interrupting his ranting when noticing his deflated friend.

“I’m… fine.”

Nanami had forgotten for a second that Higuruma, underneath all his antics, was a very perceptive person.

“Are you sure?” Higuruma insisted, “you don’t look so well.”

“It’s nothing. I’m just thinking about work, that’s all.”

And that he was. That meeting had stuck with him for those past few days.

“Oh, how was the meeting with the Union?”

Nanami’s breath got caught for a second before he mustered up something to answer.

“It wasn’t what I expected it to be. I might be switching things up soon,” Nanami said with some understated grave finality.

“Truly?” Higuruma sounded surprised.

“Yes. Perhaps exploring new fronts beyond Corporate Law.”

“Well, then, let me know if there’s anything I can do to help apart from practicing law.”

Higuruma’s voice cracked softly right at the end of his sentence. Nanami didn’t fail to notice it, and kept silent as his friend seemed to mull over bitter memories.

“Hiromi,” Nanami began.

“I can’t, I… can’t.”

Higuruma had visibly tensed up, his fists unconsciously clenching as his forearms laid flat on the desk.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Nanami concluded, careful not to dig too deep on the matter.

Both of them shared an uncomfortable silence before Higuruma hesitantly steered his gaze to meet Nanami’s. Unsure, Higuruma gave his friend a tiny nod, and moved his attention back to the task in front of him.

Understanding that the talk about it was over, at least for now, Nanami asked, “I’m leaving, do you want me to help you carry those to your car?”

“Oh, there’s no need. I parked far, behind the…”

Oh, shit.

“Nanami, what day is it today?”

***

“I’m not drunk,” you mumbled, while filling your third cup of vodka.

“I’m not so sure about that,” Nobara said, giving you a light push to your shoulder, having you nearly tip over. Meanwhile, Megumi, Yuuji and Maki were entertained with Yuuji trying to score Gojo’s open mouth with peanuts like it was a basketball hoop.

Megumi was the least entertained of the trio.

“Knock it off!” you complained, slapping her hand away.

You fished your pack of cigarettes from your pocket, and she instantly grunted.

“Those things stink and itch my nose, go smoke them somewhere else.”

It was your time to grunt.

“Ugh, fine. Then I’ll find a new best friend that’ll let me smoke — hell, one that might even smoke with me!” you replied, getting ready to leave.

“Make good choices!” she poked at you, and you playfully brushed her off.

“I won’t!”

You walked away — not before hearing Yuuji and Gojo cheering right after Yuuji managed to score ten peanuts in a row — and gave your cup of vodka another sip, having the burning tingle dripping down your throat, warming you up against the cold wind.

After about two minutes or so of walking, sure your smoke wouldn’t blow on anyone’s faces, you put a cigarette into your mouth and pulled the lighter Professor Higuruma had given you, trying to light the cig up.

However, the wind wouldn’t let you, no matter how much you tried to tent your hand around it.

God, why? you thought to yourself, fidgeting with your bangs in annoyance.

While darting your eyes around, looking for any sort of shelter from the wind, you found a beat up, dark navy-blue car that surely had seen better days parked just behind the brick building. In your drunken haze, you figured that squatting between both would be the best idea.

Stumbling your way towards the gap, you quickly went down on the ground in a crouched position, holding your cup in one hand and the lighter on the other, cig strongly held in between your lips.

Flick, flick, flick.

Nothing.

God fucking damnit.

“Hey!” a male voice exclaimed from behind you, scaring the shit out of your soul.

Your body moved on instinct. You instantly jumped up, startled and screaming, and tossed the entire vodka contents from the cup towards whoever had nearly given you a heart attack.

Higuruma stood there, completely stunned and incredulous, as the beverage hit his shirt, vest, tie, face and coat.

“… I didn’t mean to scare you,” he offered, taking his glasses off to shake the liquid from them before putting them back, “but why?”

For a split second, he was just glad this wasn’t coffee or wine, the staining demons of liquids. It could’ve been worse.

Oh my God. I can’t believe I assaulted this man with my drink again. This has to be a prank.

This time, already impaired from two full glasses of vodka in your system, and increasingly nervous at that situation, you couldn’t hold it in.

You began cackling, directly to his face, as his expression became profoundly confused. He lifted an eyebrow, not knowing if he should feel scared, amused or offended.

"I-I just… Just laugh in i-inappropriate… moments- I’m sorry!" you tried explaining, in between laughs and huffs, drying a tear that bubbled up at the edge of your eye with the tip of your fingers.

You both stood there for a few seconds until your laughter died down, and he was then sure you definitely had a few screws loose.

It amused him.

“Here, let me use this to dry your shirt," you told Higuruma, approaching him with your red scarf, pressing it against his chest. He put his free hand over it and haphazardly rubbed it over the damp patches of his clothes alongside you.

This up close, he couldn’t help but notice once again that tiny hair lock which swirled away from your bangs.

Realizing he was staring at your hair, Higuruma diverted his eyes elsewhere, having them landing over the ugly red scarf.

"Ah, that hideous thing."

Shit, I said that out loud, he thought to himself, facepalming internally.

To that, you looked at him, wide eyed, and laughed wholeheartedly, having Higuruma blushing embarrassment at his own incapacity to control his words.

"It is hideous, isn't it?" you noted, surprising him.

For the second time in that interaction, he was nothing short of perplexed. The Professor was more than accustomed to having people get deeply offended at his talking mishaps from time to time.

"I thought you might be laughing because what I said was terribly inappropriate," Higuruma admitted, somewhat relieved.

"Oh, no. It was funny. I also laugh at funny things," you jested with a mindless smile pulling on your cheeks.

It was his time to chuckle, and you didn’t fail to notice, even in your tipsy fog, how a tiny crease would form on the edges of his hangdog eyes when he was laughing. And how his voice reverberated. And how his disheveled hair framed around his face beautifully, highlighting his beautiful hooked nose. And-

Shit. I have the hots for the Professor.

"... Is there still anything on my face?"

That snapped you out of it, but not entirely.

"Uh? Why?"

"Because you're staring at it."

Yeah. That checks out.

“I just… never mind,” you told him while blushing discreetly, scrambling around to give him some space. It was only then that Higuruma noticed he had his hand resting over yours for a while after you stopped trying to pat him dry with the ugliest scarf known to mankind.

Clearing his throat, he asked, “why were you slouching by my car?”

“I was trying to light a cigarette,” you replied, pointing at the cig on the ground after the debacle, “the wind is pretty unforgiving today.”

“I see. I’m sorry about the fallen soldier,” he stated.

“No worries, I’ve got more,” you replied, pulling your pack from your pocket, “do you want one?”

I shouldn’t, smoking is bad, I’m doing cardio three times a we-

“Yes.”

You pulled two cigarettes from the pack, put them both in your mouth, cupped your hand around the cigs to light them up, and it actually worked.

Well, that’s convenient.

You inhaled the smoke for a second, feeling it waving into your mouth. It immediately soothed your crave.

Taking one of them in between two fingers, you extended your hand towards Higuruma, who grabbed the smoke.

“Thanks,” he offered in a calm tone.

“No worries, it’s the least I could do after assaulting you with vodka,” you shrugged with some embarrassment.

“It’s oka… pure vodka?”

“Yes.”

That’s… a lot.

He was a little taken aback, but decided not to ask anything.

“Well, at least it won’t leave a stain, unlike coffee,” Higuruma remarked.

“Yeah, it won’t,” you replied while mindlessly giggling.

Higuruma finally bowed his head towards you and you retributed the gesture, bidding him goodbye before leaving on your way to your dorm room.

Once you were gone, he went inside his car, cracking the window open. As he was finally alone pulling the cigarette towards his lips, Higuruma noticed something around the edge of the cig. A soft pinkish-red ring that went all around it.

Is this… her lipstick?

It was.

Against his better judgment, Higuruma blushed softly, instantly shaking his head to weave off the heat that had pooled around in his cheeks before flipping the engine on.

Get a hold of yourself.

He did, however, hold the cig in his mouth, smudging the faint lipstick tint it had on his lips until the smoke was all spent up.

Tag list:

@arusearu @yammy-yammy-yama @markleeisdabestdrug @redlikerozez @delirious-donna

@alwaysfreakingout @murderofravens @senseifupa @higurumapet @cindyneko-strider

@ohhheymessa @bigbaddulce @actuallysaiyan @s-witch-bitch @pseudowho

@soft--cherry @bsaeshell @quinnyundertow @traffi

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rr311 · 6 months ago

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↳ confession ll katsuki bakugo

from the widow you seen he was sitting all alone outside confused to why he wasn't inside enjoying himself, you furrowed your eyebrows placing down your cup , “hey, i’ll be right back!.” you yelled over the music as your friends nodded their heads going back to their convos, walking over towards the sliding door to go outside. you slid open the door, then closed it walking towards him, "hey bakubae." you teased with a smile seeing him look up to see who it is, scoffing, looking away. "tch, told you to stop calling me that." you chuckled, sitting beside him bumping your shoulder with his, "you like it though~." katsuki groaned turning his body away but he didn't say anything. it was quiet now.

you raised a brow looking at him, he looked..flustered? "hey..you okay kat?." your voice..that soft tone. he groaned once more nodding his head, "i'm fine you idiot." you didn't buy it. "then whyre you out here all alone? are you not enjoying the party?." he quickly turned to you hearing that small disappointment tone in your voice shaking his head, "no—! I do like it, it's just..ugh!." he growled due to frustration, now you were really confused. he was acting weird, really weird. usually he would be more shouty and loud but in this case he was quiet?. "if you don't i’ll understand. you don’t have to force yourself to like it katsuki." you slightly chuckled but again he shook his head, "you damn idiot I just said i like the damn party..it's just something else." he mumbled that last part, you raised a brow,

"what is it?." why was this so hard? he's usually so confident when it came to his words but now..he was stuck. why were these feelings so damn confusing?. you could tell he was struggling by how his face was turning slightly red, furrowing your eyebrows. "kat, you don't have to tell me if you're not com-!." — "I do! just..fuck why is this so damn hard!." he snarled clenching his fists together, the more he was thinking about it the more it made him mad, it was either now or later..for months he’s been wanting to confess to you but never had enough balls to do so. you made him nervous, believe it or not you did, your brown eyes, your skin, your personality everything about you made him nervous. ever since you came from america he’s always had an eye on you, they way you would fight, your strategies, they way you talk..he even went to his mom about it!.

..he hates to admit the old hag has a wise point. “if you don’t confess now someone else from your class might take that chance away from you katsuki, just follow your heart and do what’s right.” she was right, her words echoed through his head like an annoying car alarm going off. his hands clenched into fists, he should take this chance before its too late. ugh.

"fuck it." he snarled, "wha- hmph!." your eyes were widened feeling his lips against yours, you were so shocked that you didn’t get a chance to think properly. In an instant katsuki pulled back, seeing your reaction, he thought he made a stupid mistake going to apologize but when you realized what happened, you grabbed ahold of his shirt kissing him back, his eyes went wide but they closed groaning from the rough pull instantly kissing you back. your lips were so soft and gentle, he placed a hand ontop of your cheek tilting his head to deepen it. from inside, kirishima was wondering where you went and why kaminari and the rest were by the window, furrowing his eyebrows, “hey guys what’s goin-!” he yelped feeling mina grab him by his shirt pulling him towards their level. he was confused but when mina turned his head to look outside his eyes widened, “I knew they liked each other!.” she squealed as kaminari fake sniffled, “our little bakubro is growing up.” he wiped a fake tear as the rest agreed, “who knew bakugo would pull a girl.” sero added with a small chuckle, out of all people they didn’t think you would the one he likes. I mean they knew he had a crush on someone in the class but they didn’t think it was you!.

what seemed like forever, you hummed in between his mouth before pulling back, what you didn’t expect katsuki groaned chasing after your lips again secretly liking the way they feel chuckling, “kat..” you mumbled leaning back in to only give him a peck, with a grin on your face. “Is this your way of confessing?.” you questioned trailing your hand on the back of his neck feeling him pinch you on your waist with a small grin feeling a hard glare at him. “and what if it is.” he mumbled, shaking your head giving him one last peck on the cheek before getting up, “then if it is, yes. I’ll be your girlfriend.” — “bakubae~.” you giggled hearing him groan,

“thought I told you to stop callin me that!.”

“at least it has meaning now!.”

I didn’t know how to end this shit 🤚🏼

#black reader #my hero academia #anime x black!reader #anime x reader #{ 🖋️} writings #fluff #mha x black reader #mha x reader #mha fluff #mha bakugou #bakugou x black reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki x you #black fanfic writer

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thebeast-dennis-etcetera · 7 months ago

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Karma

Prompt: You go undercover with DiNozzo as his wife, and Gibbs, your boyfriend has no choice but to watch from the sidelines.

You weren’t happy about being partnered with DiNozzo on your current undercover case but not nearly as unhappy about it as Jethro. Nothing against DiNozzo but pretending to be his wife was almost close to a nightmare for you. Vance denied Jethro posing as your significant other only because he didn’t fit the profile and Tony already had established contact, which actually worked in your favor since you and Jethro had gotten into a slight argument before the op and had you been partnered with him, you might’ve ended up strangling him.

So as Tony and you stood in the elevator, you closed your eyes and mentally stepped into your alias.

“Alright DiNozzo, Y/L/N. Com check,” you heard Jethro speak in your earpiece.

“Heard ya loud and clear boss,” Tony responded.

You ignored him, finishing going over your cover story in your head, making sure you remembered every detail. The way you talked, walked and even smiled mattered.

“Y/N!”

“No need to yell in my ear Gibbs, I can hear you just fine,” you finally responded as the doors opened and the two of you walked out into crowded lobby.

The plan was simple. Your target was having dinner in the hotel restaurant, all you two had to do was have some dinner as well, scan the room so Abby can run facial recognition software through Tony’s glasses and get out of there safely.

“Hi, reservation for my husband and I,” you told the hostess with a fake smile as your hand intertwined with DiNozzo’s.

“Of course, right this way ma’am.”

She led you two through the restaurant, seating you in one of the corners, per DiNozzo’s request so that you had a better vantage point at identifying your suspect. She then handed you off to your server who stood by the table and handed you both a menu.

“May I start you off with any drinks tonight?”

You spoke before Tony got the chance.

“We’ll have 2 glasses of your Coup De Foudre Gauchiste and start off with Gruyère and Crab Palmiers please.”

DiNozzo gave you a slight look of bewilderment but quickly covered it with a smile. The server nodded and left as you heard Gibbs speak.

“We have a budget on this op, Agent Y/L/N.”

“Hm. Then it’s a good thing I brought your card just in case,” you answered back while taking a sip of water. It was quiet for a second before you heard him sigh in exasperation.

“Torres is a really good teacher. You should think about starting a class.”

“Abby get anything yet boss?” DiNozzo jumped in, changing the subject.

“Not yet. Keep looking.”

You both spent the rest of the fake dinner, sipping on the expensive wine, scanning the room, and you giving DiNozzo occasional caresses that you knew made both him and Jethro uncomfortable. Once the dinner ended and the both of you had gotten up to leave, you noticed something out of the corner of your eye. A man matching the description of your suspect was following you. You knew you couldn't let him follow you to the surveillance van so using your high school improv skills, you pulled DiNozzo by the hand into the opposite direction, once you were outside.

"What are you doing?" Tony asked you which you replied with a fake giggle.

"Just follow my lead. We've got a tail."

You pulled him back towards the side of the restaurant where it was dimly lit and stood so that his back was against the wall. You made sure you weren't standing completely in front of him so that his glasses could pick up a good picture of the man following you.

Keeping up the act, you smiled fakely at him and began playing with his tie, moving your hands so they trailed up his chest and settled around his neck. He chuckled nervously, clearly unprepared for the unscripted intimacy.

"Ah, jeeze. I can't watch this," you heard Jethro speak faintly in your ear, making you smirk. Serves him right.

"At least pretend like you're enjoying this Tony. Has he passed by yet?" you asked, snapping him out of it.

"Uh, not yet."

He finally put his hands on your waist and then unexpectedly pulled you into his chest for a hug, pretending to nuzzle your neck.

"Got him," you heard Abby confirm. "It's him."

"Tell me when he leaves," you whispered to Tony, continuing to pretend that you two were just a lovestruck couple cuddling in the parking lot.

"McGee, Bishop. Move in now," Gibbs ordered a little harshly.

The two of you gave it a little more time before pulling apart and now following the suspect as you saw McGee and Bishop's car come speeding in from the other side and stop in front of him. They both got out and pulled their weapons out.

"NCIS, stay where you are," McGee called out.

The suspect turned to run but stopped once he saw you and Tony aiming your own weapons at him.

"Too bad you didn't stay for dessert. Their Tiramisu was delicious," Tony joked, making you roll your eyes.

- - - -

You watched from the other side of the interrogation window as Jethro slammed his hand on the table, making both McGee and the suspect jump.

"You think he's a little worked up?" you jokingly asked DiNozzo who stood next to you.

"Yeah, I am not envious of McGee right now. I already feel the major head slapping that's coming to me for the stunt you pulled in the parking lot."

"Stunt? Hey, I was doing my job," you defended.

"Yeah well Gibbs had direct feed to my glasses, seeing what I was saw and you were making it very difficult to keep an eye on the suspect."

You laughed and turned to Tony, putting your hand on his shoulder.

"He's not gonna fault you for being a man, Tony. You did your job. Very well might I add."

He smiled just as the door opened and Jethro stood in the doorway.

"Uh, good talk Agent L/N but I think I should go see what Abby is up to," Tony stuttered, stepping away from your touch and turning to leave. Jethro stayed where he was, blocking Tony's path, increasing his nervousness.

"Uh boss. About earlier. I really wasn't expecting any of that to happen. I mean-

"Get out of here DiNozzo," he ordered, stepping into the room, allowing Tony to pass.

"Right away boss."

He pretty much ran out and you couldn't help but giggle. Jethro's hard stare turned to you as he shut the door and you bit your lip. Your plan definitely succeeded in getting Jethro thoroughly worked up and you loved it. He slowly took steps towards you until you were inches apart, his chest level with your face but your gaze never leaving his. The air was charged as he spoke.

"Is this what I should expect from you every time we have an argument?"

"Only if we have an undercover op the next night."

His hand came up to brush some hair behind your ear and trailed down your jawline to hold your chin.

"Then I'll have to make sure you're always partnered with me."

#gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs #ncis #ncis fanfiction #agent gibbs #mark harmon #ncis request #jethro gibbs x reader #ncis imagine #jethro gibbs fanfiction

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solitarelee · 1 year ago

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Seeking Mutual Aid

Well guys, it's finally happened. It's my turn to pay the piper. It's my turn to beg for money online.

The context: up until very recently, I was the full time caretaker for my disabled brother, despite being similarly disabled myself. I also was going to school full time and working. I make $800/month and that was enough to survive because I also got a decent chunk of FAFSA every semester.

Then, my grandmother got sick. My mother, who lived with us about half the time, left to take care of her, and took her financial support with her. Suddenly I was not only the sole caretaker of my brother but also a large 3bed/2bath house with a full garden, all while going to school and trying to work. Just to afford food, I wracked up large amounts of debt with the assumption that when FAFSA came in the fall, I'd be able to pay it off.

But the work was too much. I couldn't finish my classes, and had to take incompletes. This resulted in me losing my financial aid. I managed to get the funds together (mostly by guilting family) to afford my last semester of college, but now there's the matter of all that "buying food" debt. We lost SNAP in the middle of all of this because they added work requirements (I wasn't eligible at all, being a student, but my brother had been. Obviously he can't work, but my support makes him not qualify for disability status either.)

The short of it: to stave off the demons of interest rates, I need like $1500 by the middle of October. That's. A lot. I make $800/month, so I can kind of do it if I uhhhhh *checks notes* don't buy food for 2 months. Hm. An issue has been detected.

I hate this because I almost fucking made it in life without having to get on my knees and beg strangers on the internet for cash (giving them my full legal name in the process), but here we are. It's at least an "any amount helps" situation and not a zero sum game, so I'm passing the hat around to see if anyone can throw in a dollar. If you can't, consider reblogging, in case anyone else can.

Paypal: solitare_lee (at) yahoo (dot) com Zelle: available via DM Patreon: elvensemi (it's not being updated atm but in the future there'll be worldbuilding stuff if that's your thing)

$1292/1500

#solitaretalk #mutual aid #donations #fundraiser

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misctf · 1 year ago

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Movie Night

“Dude, look at this!” Matt looked up from his unpacking and walked over to where Josh was sitting, “I guess the old tenants forgot this gem.” Josh chuckled holding up an old DVD.

Matt grabbed is from his buddy. While there was no title on the case, the picture of two skinny blond men making out in a bedroom certainly caught his attention. Matt raised an eyebrow.

“Certainly interesting. Not sure if this is what they meant by fully furnished” He chuckled, “Guess they forgot it.” Not a huge deal- given that the rent was so low and it was within walking distance to their classes, a few scandalous items were acceptable. Yet Matt stared at the DVD case- at the two men passionately making out. He didn’t have any issues with gay people, but there was something about this DVD. The two men were certainly handsome, the one hairless and with a pretty impressive ass, while the other was just a tad more muscular and dominant looking.

“Earth to Matt, you good there bud?” Josh chuckled.

Matt blushed and looked up at his friend, “Uh yeah, sorry haha.” He laughed awkwardly, somewhat confused by his thoughts. Since when did he care about how good a man's ass looked? He focused on his friend, “We should probably put it back where we found it.” He said, his voice dropping off towards the end of his sentence. Matt couldn’t help but appreciate just how well Josh’s gray shirt hugged his body. Something about it just captured his friend’s muscular physique so well, and while he continued to stare, he felt a heat rising up within him.

“Hey you okay dude?” Josh asked, looking more concerned, “Lemme just take this from ya.” He chuckled awkwardly, grabbing the DVD case from his friend. Matt looked confused for a moment before shaking his head, “Feeling better now? Didn’t think you’d get all worked up over two gay guys.” Josh teased, looking down at the case.

“Yeah I don’t know, sorry man. Must’ve zoned out.” Matt took a deep breath, suddenly noticing how intensely Josh was staring at the case.

“You think we should watch it?” Josh asked, his voice somewhat distant and his eyes still staring at the case, “I mean, we have the DVD player.”

“Dude, what the hell?” Matt chuckled, “It’s probably some gay porn tape.”

“Only one way to find out!” the brunette replied with a grin, sticking the DVD in.

Matt wanted to protest, but when the DVD started playing, a strange sensation washed over him. The two of them sat on the couch, watching the film intensely. It wasn’t porn, but instead a stupid rom com of the two gay men. It was funny, it was romantic, and before either of the two realized, they had become enthralled in the plot. It was fairly predictable, at least to Matt- two soulmates unable to be together, overcoming the odds and making it. Of course with some passionate romance mixed in. But yet he couldn’t stop watching and rooting for the two main characters. And based on how Josh was similarly leaning forward, eyes focused, Matt assumed he was equally interested. But as the film was reaching its predictable conclusion, Matt felt a discomfort in his crotch.

“What the fuck?” He muttered, his erection straining against his pants. He quickly tried to adjust, which didn’t go unnoticed by Josh. Before his friend could say anything, Matt got up and turned away, “I need to go to my room.” He said quickly.

The young man rushed towards his room, wincing at the discomfort in his pants. He slammed the door and immediately stripped, his eyes widening at the site of his raging erection. Yeah the movie had some R-rated scenes, but it was all gay shit anyway. Why was he getting so horned up over some gay rom com? And when did it get so fucking hot? He threw off his shirt and stood naked in his room, taking deep breaths.

“Dude, you good?” Matt jumped and turned to face Josh, who was standing in the doorway. Yeah they had seen each other naked a few times in the locker room, but this wasn’t the same. And Matt couldn’t help but blush.

He wanted to say something, to say anything really, but the words wouldn’t leave his mouth. He wanted to tell Josh to get out and to leave him alone- but it was like those words were trapped behind a mental barrier. And much to Matt’s horror, he could see Josh eyeing his erection. The two men’s eyes met, and although they couldn’t say anything, it was clear they were both not in control of the situation.

“Josh... what is this?” Matt strained as he proudly flaunted his erect member to his best friend.

Josh couldn’t look away, “I-I don’t know... I can’t...” He took a deep breath, “It’s like the movie... when the two guys first...”

Without another word, Josh’s body moved on its own, walking over to his naked friend. And before Matt could protest, Josh kissed him, passionately on the lips. Matt’s eyes widened, before he found himself reciprocating. He felt his hand move against his friend’s toned abdomen, gripping the gray shirt that covered his body.

“Let’s get rid of this.” Matt whispered. That cheesy line... it was just like what the one character from the movie. Why was he saying this shit? And as Josh’s shirt was thrown aside, the two continued passionately making out. He could feel as his friend gripped his ass and gave it a squeeze, causing Matt to moan. And in that instant, Matt could swear that his voice sounded higher. But before he could fully register what was happening, Josh pushed him onto his bed.

“And I’ll get rid of these.” Josh grinned removing his pants, while his eyes betrayed his fear.

Matt felt himself lick his lips as he gazed upon his now naked friend. And Matt could swear that his friend’s hair had taken on a somewhat lighter hue. But before he could fully register his friend’s changes, Josh had crawled on top of his friend, his sweaty muscular body pressed closely as the two continued to make out. Against his will, he began thrusting his hips as the two grinded against one another, moaning as they did. All the while, Matt was becoming aware of something. As his hands caressed his friend’s muscular arms and back, it almost seemed like his friend was losing mass.

“Josh...” Matt forced out, “You need to stop... you’re changing...”

Josh stopped for just a second and frowned, “I’m not the only one.” He forced out, before locking lips with his friend and then slowly kissing down his friend’s neck.

During this, Matt was able to turn his head to catch a glimpse of them in the mirror. Josh was smaller now, while still muscular, he must’ve lost some height and some mass, making the man a bit smaller overall. Meanwhile, Matt watched as his black hair became lighter and lighter, until settling on a natural blond and he let out another high pitched moan as his voice settled on a higher tenor.

“Damn babe, I love it when you moan like that.” Josh grinned, running his hand along Matt’s shrinking biceps and triceps.

“Josh... please...” Matt croaked out, his breath getting caught as his entire body shrunk rapidly. Years of working out and going to the gym seemed to reverse themselves as his frame became much smaller, with only small lean muscles, mostly for showing off rather than for strength.

“Don’t worry, I know what ya like.” Josh replied, flipping them so that Matt was on top and giving his friend’s ass a squeeze.

Matt moaned, feeling as his friend played with his juicy ass and hole, the feeling beyond anything that he was used to. He looked down at Josh and watched as two nipple piercing magically appeared and a tattoo formed on his left thigh.

“Josh...” Matt moaned, turning to the mirror, his eyes widening in horror. They looked just like the two guys from the movie. And it looked like he was becoming the more submissive of the pair- the "bottom". It was like a whole new vocabulary and knowledge was filling his head, and he knew he didn't want it. He did his best and pushed himself off the bed, landing on his jiggly ass.

“Woah there babe, you good?” Josh asked looking down. To Matt’s dismay, the look of fear that had clued him into his friend still being there was gone. Instead, it was the look of that guy from the movie... the passionate, caring, and sexy stare of his more dominant boyfriend. And it made Matt shiver.

“This isn’t right, we can’t be together!” Matt breathed out, a feeling of guilt welling up inside him. And it was at that moment he realized... that was the same line from the movie. He was still acting it out.

Josh slowly got off the bed, and plopped down next to Matt. He placed a comforting hand on his cheek, and forced him to look into his eyes.

“I don’t care.” He whispered, “I love you.”

And Matt knew it was over. It was just like the movie, the same stupid lines, the same passionate romance. And he hated how predictable it was- how he knew what was going to happen next. A warm feeling welled up from within Matt, all the concern and worry about being with Josh dissipating as he stared intensely into his boyfriend’s eyes. Josh made him feel right... safe even. All he wanted to do was be with him. And with that, the two leaned in for another passionate kiss, the sensual night picking up exactly where it had left off.

The next morning, Matt woke up, curled up in the arms of his lover. He nestled closer to Josh, enjoying the warmth and comfort that it brought.

“Good morning beautiful.” Josh whispered, planting a small kiss on his boyfriend’s forehead.

Matt smiled and planted a quick kiss on Josh’s lips, before slowly pushing himself out of bed. Josh smirked, taking in the site of his naked boyfriend.

“Now that’s a sight I won’t get tired of.” Josh pushed himself out of bed and kissed Matt quickly, “Come on, we should probably get something to eat. I’m drained.” He winked.

As the two walked down to the kitchen and passed the living room, something caught Matt’s eye. He walked over to the DVD case that was tossed on the floor and picked it up, inspecting the cover. It was of two guys, in decent shape and working out at the gym together. He chuckled, they were kind of sexy, but he much preferred his smooth, toned look. Not to mention, so did Josh.

“Better put this back.” He whispered, placing the DVD back in the cabinet, the memory of it quickly vanished from his mind. And as he walked back into the kitchen where his sexy boyfriend was making them breakfast, he couldn’t wait to see what the day would bring.

#male tf #male transformation #straight to gay #twinkification #mental change

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ttjisung · 2 months ago

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back 2 u 𝜗𝜚

p. jisung x fem!reader smau

in which jisung does his best to avoid you, his ex, until he realizes his mistake far too late cw: suggestive themes, bad angst, cheating, swearing

i'm not going back, back, back, back, back

masterlist

previous next

chapter iii. (wc: .8k)

If you had to use one word to describe meeting Park Jisung it would be easy. Everything with him felt easy.

You had been a shy girl growing up, finding it hard to get along with your peers due to your timid nature. By some lucky fortune, you were paired up with Huang Renjun in your freshman year science class. It had been an elective, meaning you were able to share a class with him although being two years your senior. You had seen him here and there, yet never talked to him for obvious reasons. You were reserved and he looked like he was one second away from yelling at whoever dared interact with him. You thought so, at least, until he handed you a candy your second day of school. He grinned at you with no malice in his eyes, and that’s when you realized it was worth crawling out of your own shell to talk to him.

It took you both around a year to decide you were each other’s best friends. Even during your junior year when you met Yangyang and Dejun, you still never felt as though they could replace Renjun - nobody could. Renjun continued to prove you wrong, introducing you to Park Jisung in your last year of high school. He had graduated at that point, alongside Yangyang and Dejun who you only met after they had left, and the thought of being alone again made you miserable, until Renjun offered to introduce you to his younger friend who was in the same year as you. He had warned you that the taller male was shy, and you simply giggled, joking about how you obviously were as well.

Renjun was, of course, right. Jisung was incredibly shy, yet for some reason it comforted you - knowing you wouldn’t have to worry about being judged or made fun of. Although your relationship resembled that of two timid middle schoolers who obviously had crushes on each other, you found his company to be endearing.

It was no surprise to any of your mutual friends when Jisung asked you out. The scene was straight out of a cheesy rom com - he bought you your favorite flowers, drove you to a pretty hill (the steering wheel of his car was slippery and drenched with sweat), and surprised you with a cute picnic. After stumbling on his words for a solid five minutes, he finally asked you the question you were dying to hear.

“C-can I be your boyfriend, Y/nie?”

You obviously said yes, moved to tears by his romantic gestures. After that, everything felt right. Hanging out with your friends all the while holding his hand and whispering little secrets to him. Eating lunch every day together near your favorite pink leafed tree. It was everything you had dreamed of. He was perfect.

“Did you think I just wouldn’t find out, Y/n?” Your whole body shook as tears wracked up. “Ji, please. Just listen to me. I don’t know who lied to you but that’s what this is… It’s all lies-” “How come I have evidence then? I was here all alone last night waiting for today so we could hang out, and this whole time you were out kissing random men.” Jisung had never been this bold, or confrontational. Had it been any other situation, you would’ve felt proud for how stable he was defending himself. Of course, this wasn’t the case.

Before you could answer, Jisung quickly paced into his room. You chased after him the fastest you could, yet were met by a slammed door on your face. “Please baby. Open the door.” His voice came out muffled in response, “Don’t call me that. You… You disgust me, Y/n.” You cried harder.

Eventually he opened the door, a box full of framed photos, clothes, and random trinkets you had gotten for him residing in it. With a force you had never seen him use before, he roughly shoved the box into your arm, grabbing the other and pushing you towards the exit of the apartment. He was too entranced in the situation to realize you were clawing at his arm, begging for him to let go - his hold on you a bit too strong that it worried you. Nonetheless, it was short lived as he made quick work to open the door, pushing you out.

“I’m serious Y/n. Don’t talk to me anymore. Or anybody… I’m telling Renjun.” “No! No… Jisung please, you’re going to ruin everything when you don’t even know-", "I’m the one that ruined things? Just get out.” Your efforts were in vain as once again, the door was slammed on your face, leaving you in both shock and tears.

That would be the last time you’d see him in a while.

a/n: haiiii... this is a context chapter sorry guys ik they can get boring... but dw i already have the next one finished so it will be updated soon. very soon. :3

#park jisung #park jisung x reader #park jisung smau #nct dream smau #nct dream x reader #nct dream #nct x reader #kpop smau

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holylulusworld · 8 months ago

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Shy Guy (5) - Present

Summary: You grew up together. Bucky is the one. He’s just too shy to make a move.

Pairing: Shy!Bucky Barnes x Fratgirl!Reader

Sidepairing (friendship): Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: teasing, banter, friendship, fluff, making out, cocky reader, virgin Bucky, shy Bucky, mentions of Steve's sex life

Inspired by this ask: Shy guy ask and@dawn-petrichor-world made me do it…

Shy guy (4) - Past & Present

Shy guy masterlist

“Hmm…what else do I need to know, Stevie?” You eagerly take notes while Steve explains the complexity of asking a guy out without making him look like a loser. “I don’t want Bucky to believe he’s a loser.”

“Bucky is not a loser, but shy. He never kissed another girl,” Steve points at a picture of Bucky on the investigation wall he made for you. “That’s our target.”

You grin and lean back in your chair. “Please continue, Obi-Wan Rogers.”

He gives you a stern look. “Miss, if you don’t take my classes seriously, you can go home and watch a rom-com.”

“I’m listening,” you groan. “Go ahead. I need to know how to make a move on Bucky without scaring him off.”

“Alright,” Steve uses a pointer stick to point at the next picture. “That’s our goal. We want him to be putty in your hands but get hard at the same time.”

You lean forward to look at the picture. “Dude! Is that a dick pick?”

Steve snickers. “I googled Bucky’s name, and this was the first picture coming up.”

“You’re lying!” You stick your tongue out. “You can’t pin a dick on our investigation wall, Steve!”

“Why?” He shrugs your concern off and points to the next picture. “Before we get to the dick, we need to make him loosen up and ask you out. Or accept your invitation.”

“That’s a dog playing with a bone,” you wrinkle your nose. “Is that a metaphor or something?”

“Yeah,” Steve nods. “You’re like a dog with a bone. You sank your teeth into Bucky and won’t let up.”

“I’m not a dog, Rogers,” you snap at your friend. “I wanted you to give me advice, not turn this into a joke.”

“I’m not joking about love and dick,” Steve chuckles but keeps a straight face. “If you want him to dick you down one day, you’ll need to win his trust and heart first.”

“Good, that’s a start,” you take notes while Steve tells you about all the things Bucky likes. “Hmm…that’s good. Tell me more about his eating habits and the lingerie he looked up in his search history.”

“Our boy grew up so fast,” Steve sighs and gives you a wink. “You should see his search history. He’s an eager beaver when it comes to eating pussy and fingering a girl.”

“Oh,” you nod, and focus on taking notes, not the image in your mind. Bucky between your thighs, eating your cunt. “I like me a man who can eat pussy.”

Steve laughs. “Well, in that case, Bucky is your man. I watched him practice while watching porn. He’s got a skilled tongue.”

“That’s good to know, I guess.”

“Next step, we need to talk about his erogenous zones. You need to know how to touch him,” Steve continues. He points at his neck with the pointer stick. “Neck.”

“Neck,” you hum.

“Nipples. Earlobe. Lips,” he moves to his crotch. “At last, the divine meat stick.” He grins. “The dick.”

You giggle and snort. “Meat stick, got it.”

“Y/N,” Steve’s features soften when you look at him. “You need to make a move but don’t be too pushy. Bucky will shy away from you if you are too pushy.”

“Christ, I won’t shove his pants down to suck his dick,” you grunt. “Now back to the basics. Do you have an idea for the perfect first date?”

“Alright, miss,” Steve turns back around to point at the investigation wall. “We have a lot to discuss.”

“Doll, you’ve got this,” Steve whispers as he guides you toward the frat house. “He’s over there, looking for you because he wants to borrow a book. You look stunning. This outfit shows the right amount of cleavage and ass. But it’s not slutty.”

“Okay,” you take a deep breath. “I’ve got this. Bucky Barnes will be putty in my hands.”

Steve slaps your ass, making you squeal. “Go and get him tiger.”

Bucky is smart.

Like really smart.

He speaks over five different languages.

Still, he doesn't know how to talk to a girl.

It's not that he's not attractive. Girls do look at him. He's just too nervous to hit on a girl he likes.

It feels like his voice fails anytime he tries to talk to one of the girls from the frat house across the street.

Especially when he sees you.

It's even worse that you are friends with his best friend.

Steve Rogers. Quarterback. Golden boy. A girls' magnet.

“Hey Barnes," you quip as Bucky zoned out again. "Whatcha looking at?"

“What?" he slowly dips his head to glance at you standing next to him.

When did that happen?

“I was just...”

"Steve won't come back for a while. I think this week it's Carrie or was it Chanel?" you huff. "I'm telling you; he tries to break a record or something. I’m worried about his health. What if he breaks his dick? He won’t be able to win the upcoming game with a cast around his dick.”

Bucky chokes on his spit.

You giggle.

“Uh—what do you want here if Steve is not around?” He gets out before dropping his eyes to his shoes.

“Hmm…On Friday night we will go out. Wear something nice,” you cock your head to look Bucky up and down. “Oh, and no hair gel. I like running my fingers through a guy’s hair when we make out.”

“What?” he swallows thickly. His cheeks turn pink, and he feels his heart start racing. “Y/N…I…what? Is this a joke?”

“You know how to get a girl’s attention,” you lean closer to peck his lips. “I hope you know I expect you to put that talented tongue to better use…”

Bucky gasps as you pounce on him to claim his lips. You slip your tongue inside, snaking it with his as you run your fingers through his soft curls.

“Barnes! GOOO! Barnes!” the frat boys chant behind Bucky’s back. “We knew you had it in you all this time. He will finally get laid!”

You grin against his lips.

“Aw, I always had a thing for virgins,” you coo. “I promise to be gentle, babe…”

“What just happened?” Bucky looks like a confused puppy. He runs his tongue over his lips to taste you again. “Y/N, why did you…I…what?”

“Bucky,” you place your hands on his chest and look him straight in the eyes. “I call dips on you.” You smirk. “We are friends since childhood, and I don’t want you to get laid by some other bitch. You’re mine.”

“Get laid,” he chokes out. “Oh,” his cheeks turn pink, and he chuckles nervously.

“Do you want to go on a date with me, Buck?” you run your index finger over his chest. “I know you don’t see anyone else.”

“Yeah,” Bucky stutters. “We can watch a movie or order food.”

“Buck,” you lean closer to brush your lips over his quivering ones. “I will cook, and you can decide on the dessert.” You grin. “I heard you have a very talented tongue and are burning to put it to good use.”

He blanched, and chuckles nervously. “It’s a date…”

“It’s a date,” you say and fist his jacket to claim his lips again. “See you on Friday, Bucky baby.”

“STEVE! STEVE!” Bucky stumbles inside their shared room. “STEVE! She asked me out and…what do I do now?”

“Alright,” Steve wraps his arm around Bucky’s shoulder to guide him toward the investigation wall. Steve changed the pictures to help his friend. “I have been waiting for you, Padawan. I will tell you everything about Y/N, women, and pussy…”

Part 6

Tags in reblog.

#Shy Guy (5) - Present #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #fratboy!bucky barnes #college au #fratboy bucky #young bucky barnes #female reader

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thesharktanksdriver · 2 years ago

Text

Sharky throws hands Fins (Platonic)

Part 1 part 3 part 4 part 5

@crazyfandomist Maybe a request!! Sharky goes out on a mission with them and they see Sharky doing the up most terrifying take down along with a good scare of when they get hit by a bullet? Of course Sharky is fine but now they’re in lockdown till they’re fully healed

You asked and you shall receive. Really like this request and decided to go the full mile. You guys can expect some more Sharky stuff with shadow company and eventually some other stuff.

If there’s one thing that the entire squad of 141 can agree on it’s that your a bit of a wild card

A wild shark as Soap would joke in the heli as it landed and everyone felt the true weight of their guns now in their hands

They knew you were rambunctious, a bit of a hot head and maybe a bit fucked in the head from the shit you constant spouted out

But this was a whole new level of bullshitery that they had to unpack

It all started out as a relatively normal mission that turned into yet another battlefield

Intel was wrong and everyone walked into a trap that lead them all to scatter for cover

Like the others you ran, your smaller form being able to be somewhat ignored by the enemies as dust clouded the air

Sadly though even with this you got shot in the scuffle and now had to deal with the pain that rumbled through you

Adrenaline was kicking in now but you still took the time to try and deal with you wound as best you could with limited resources

Seems like Ghosts’s gorilla warfare class actually came to good use unlike algebra like your teaches insisted

Hushed cursed words fall from your mouth as you climb the stairs of an old decrepit home, carefully placing each step in case of any trip wires

“Kid you alright?!” Seems like your com wasn’t broken, that’s good but what isn’t is the amount of worrying that was gonna make Price’s hair go grey. “I’m fine, I’m fine.” You try to hid the smile hidden in your voice as you role your eyes. You hear a sigh of relief on the other end, you continue through the empty home before getting to the top floor that contained some extra ammo that you nabbed.

“Where are you?”

“Old house. Looks like something from a horror movie?, Texas chainsaw vibes honestly. Wonder if they’ll have the dead teenagers as well”

You get a array of different responses over the live that makes you giggle as you look out the broken window

Seems like they’ve made good work, most of who’s left are dropping like flies to the shared effort of everyone else

A once yellow and dusty ground painted a rouge red by a liquid your so familiar with now

Through a gust of wind you notice a form

You instantly recognize it’s not price, too small, not ghost, not as bulky, not Gaz, not as slim, and not soap, doesn’t have the swagger in his step

Oh and they aren’t wearing the same uniform

That was probably a better identifier but by now you had memorialized your teammates and it was easier to identify people by that alone

He had his back turned to the house, hiding behind a small rusted over car as he gazed out its windows with his gun raised

Oh hell no

You get closer to the window you spied out of, pulling out your knife as you placed a foot on the windowsill

You could just shot the guy, it would be quick and easy but you decided to bite the bullet today

You’d seen ghost do something similar once and had to admit it was pretty badass

Probably something someone would put into some “top ten badass military moments” list by watchmojo or something

He’s unfocused and not paying attention to his surroundings

He’s dead before he even realizes you jumped from the second story window

Knife plunging into him as you wrap yourself around him, legs squeezing his waist and one arm pulling his head back allowing his throat to be open season

Like a scythe reaping a crop, he’s left falling to the ground with the spoil of your reaping

A curtain of red spouting from his neck as it stained the ground and your blade

You get up with terracotta coloured dust sticking to your fingertips like cheeto dust with a mixture of blood

Your then meet with your slack jawed team mates all of whom glanced from his corpse to you, to his corpse and then to your bleeding arm

Shit

Safe to say they all have varying reactions and are all not very happy about you lying about being ok

Ghost is a mixture of annoyance, anger and some slight sliver of pride

He’s not happy about you lying about not being harmed in the events of the attack

For fucks sake it could’ve hit something vital and you could’ve died before they got there

It makes him realize how your reliance on yourself is both a blessing and curse that they need to find a balance on

But on the other hand….nice

Listen, he’s still bloody pissed and is giving you a good old British style verbal smack down but he has to admit he’s very proud at watching that takedown

Yours was slightly adjusted to suit you better but it worked like a charm

Makes the old man proud even if he’s still vibrating from anger

It kinda makes him worried at the same time though since it shows your being influenced by him

He’s afraid you’ll become like him, lose that annoyingly bright smile of yours that never failed to lift him from the trenches of his mind

He knows he can’t protect you from the hardships of this job, the crusted blood on you is a reminder of that

But, keyword is but, he will do everything in his power to protect the one last semblance of good in his life

After he simmers a bit he eventually ends up pulling you into his arms, hands slightly shaking

His grip is strong as he holds you, a hand gently maneuvering itself to cradle your head carefully. As if your made of glass. “Please don’t do that again” he sounds painfully fragile, a thin wooden house that can be destroyed by a simple breeze. “I can’t lose you kid. So please don’t do stupid shit like that again or become like me…aight Sharky?” it sounds less like a command and more like him pleading. You pull back slightly and nod, watching as hidden eyes that were surrounded by black voids became slightly wet. It smudges the black makeup around his eyes as you return the hug.

Price as you can expect is pissed and worried like ghost

Like he’s going full on disappointed dad mode as holds your hand in med bay as a nurse removes the bullet

Your grounded for the next 2 weeks

No amount of whining will be able to guilt nor change his mind. Don’t test him cause he may extend it if you try to weasel your way out of this

He frequently checks up on your wound making sure it’s healing correctly

Him along with Laswell are the ones who help you change bandages and disinfect it from time to time

Doesn’t want to admit it but he Almost had a heart attack when he realized you were shot and still proceeded to jump out a 2 story building

100% pulls you into his office after you got your wound properly patched up and have you a serious talking to

It’s moreso about why you had lied to them about being fine when you were short

It’s then on like ghost he realizes this could become a reoccurring issue if he doesn’t do anything about it

He personally teaches you how to properly treat yourself with limited supplies

And also teaches you the importance of relying on your teammates

Plus how important it is to not ignore what can look like a simple bullet wound

He probably opens up a bit, telling you an experience he had when he was younger. How something similar happened to a friend of his who thought it was nothing but paid for it in the end

It sticks better than most of his angry comments since you can see genuine fear in his eyes

You nod, getting a sigh in return from him as he settles down in his cushioned leather chair

Cigar smoke lingers up in the air as Price taps it against his ashtray, you notice that there’s more ash than usual piled up in it. “Do you get why it’s important now?” His voice is stern as usual but you can see a hint of vulnerability in it, shining through the cracks of his built up walls. “Yes sir” at this be nods, a smile finally finding a place on his face as he adds “good. other than that you did good out there, great takedown. now your still in lockdown but you allowed to train with some limitations”. The praise makes you smile and has a surge of pride claw at you.

Soap is low key still kinda concerned but he’d be a hypocrite to say he hadn’t done the same before

Only difference is that he hasn’t gotten caught…often

He swears Ghost is like a fucking blood hound cause that’s the only reason why he’s been caught hiding a wound

On the way back to base he’s two seconds away from complimenting your takedown until he gets the side eye from both Price and Ghost which shits him up

Well shuts him up until he visits you that night

Kinda has to sneak to you room but once he gets there he’s full on pat on the back and taking nonstop

He suggests you teach him lol

Probably jokes at one point that ghost is jealous that you do it better and that why he’s all pissy

While he isn’t upset about what happened he still suggest not to be stupid (like him) and hide stuff like that often

He tries to convince Price to get body cams but he shuts that down sadly

No watchmojo top ten sadly nor one of those military propaganda TikTok’s

To make you possibly feel better about getting shot and getting a scar from it he tells you about all the scars he got

Going into detail with each and maybe making up a few fake stories to make them more interesting rather than “I feel down the stairs and then laid there face down for 15 minutes before their found me”

Though to be honest that would probably be funnier but he has his pride to keep intact

Pokes your wound which leads you to slap his hand

During your grounding he gets you some dvd’s and give you his Netflix password (despite the fact you already have Netflix)

You cancel your subscription and now mooch off of him

Your profile is named “parasite” due to this

Sends you a lot of TikTok’s that he thinks will lift your mood

Likes to spend his free time In Your room in your mountain of shark and ocean animals plushies

For once he lets you play with his hair

Your hands rank through Soaps hair as the sound of a random Netflix documentary plays in the background. He’s leaned back, head resting in your hands as you use hair clips and hair tied to mess with his hair. He lets out a small chuckle when you mumble that “i bet with this look you’d be the prettiest princess of them all”, it also receives an eye roll from him as he clutches one of your many shark plushies.

Gaz is kinda a mixture of soap and Price. Like that was rad as fuck but at the same time wtf are you doing walking around with a gunshot wound

Honestly the most neutral about it

Like he pats you on the shoulder for how impressive that was but he’s also telling you please not ignore wounds next time

Like Soap he visits you during your grounding and makes sure to tell you what happened

Probably tries to lessen the blow by being “nah nothing much had been happening on those missions your not missing much”

Give you free reign to go in his room and play on his Xbox while he’s gone

Might’ve even bought a few extra games to keep you busy

Also delivers snacks

He constantly checks to make sure your wound is ok despite the fact you told him Price and Laswell check up on it

Listen he’s just worried and can’t sleep easy after seeing a soldier a year back getting a nasty infection and dying

Doesn’t tell you about this though since he doesn’t want to worry you about it

He doodles on your skin in his free time with crayola wash markers

Their all fun little drawings of the team, their actually well down in a cute but simple kinda way

You might be tempted to actually get it tattooed

And might’ve done it impulsively so when he got back he’s confused as to why one of his drawings seemingly stuck

When he finds out though he slam it cries cause he finds it really heartfelt

Seems like this forced vacation wasn’t bad after all except for ghost bonking you in the head for getting something like that done without a second thought

Ghost admittedly does think it’s a cute tattoo and has a nice meaning but still, he urges you to tell at least him next time so he can take you to his tattoo artist

Gaz now colours in your tattoo with those same Crayola markers for fun with a giant smile

“Fuck I can’t believe you actually got this done” he says taking out a blue blueberry scented marker, the smell is strongly synthetic but it brings back a lot of memories. “Worth it though!, I now have your hat permanently on my body” he makes a face from that which makes you laugh, his brows crinkling up ever so slightly.

“Please don’t phrase it like that “

#simon ghost riley x reader #platonic #john price x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #captain price x reader #gaz x reader #cod x reader #modern warfare x reader #modern warefare 2 x reader #Sharky y/n

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atticsandwich · 6 months ago

Note

Hey I like the idea of your fic where mephisto made a pact with mc before mc got yeeted to the past in NB. I know it was a while back but did you make a continuation for that? If not would you consider doing one? I really want to know what happens when mc gets back to og timeline and reunites with meph

hey!! sorry it took me this long to respond, i only recently got around to getting an idea for a continuation. i initially wanted to leave it open ended but i kinda wanted to indulge myself a bit haha :>

—

time, curious time

mephistopheles / gn!mc

a sequel to this fic, in which you come back

(to preface: ignore the hard mode reunion for this one 💀 i still choose to think that "reunion" is a red herring set up by nightbringer bc it does not align at all to how they set up mc's dissappearance in the first place. but more on that theory some other time or maybe im just being delusional idk)

—

It was a day like any other.

R.A.D was bustling with students rushing to go home or hang out after a long day of class, echoes of afterschool plans reverberating through its halls. On one hand, everything seemed as it was— nothing was amiss; there were no violent bouts or random screams of terror, no demon stampedes or curses being thrown at each other.

But, it was still different.

At least, that's how it was for Mephistopheles, who, as usual, was holed up in his office at the newspaper club room. Ever since your disappearance, he's been spotted less and less, only ever coming out when summoned by Diavolo or if he deemed it necessary to go home— he still has a brother awaiting his return to tend to, of course. He never really got used to how quiet the office became, especially during the times he'd typically expect you to barge in like you owned the place. He also never got used to his phone being so... stagnant, missing your daily texts and calls whenever you couldn't visit him. Your name is still pinned at the top of his D-Com list, just in case, he says to himself everyday.

Just in case they come back.

It's been a year since then, yet the memory of the first night of your disappearance is still vivid in his mind. He remembered exhausting all his resources and connections, from the grandest duke to the tiniest noble— he didn't care about the judgemental gruffs and stares he'd get when he asked them if they had any info about a particular human sorcerer, which, considering demon nobility, there was a lot of, to the point where he almost started accussing any noble who responded to him with even the slightest off-tone. Diavolo had to intervene at some point, as the usual snarky, egotistical demon completely stopped sleeping then. His worried brother's face was one he would forever remember, and he made a mental note to never let him see his big, dependable brother in that state ever again.

Things have calmed down now, he supposes, but they never slowed down searching— he never did. Sure, they eventually pieced together that you were sent back somewhere in time and that Solomon was tasked to bring you back, much to his dismay, but there was still a culrpit on the loose, someone bold enough to snatch up a human under the protection of the Demon Prince hinself. Whoever that was— demon, human, whatever— no matter their reason or agenda, still had to answer.

The echoes of the crowd of students outside started getting softer, and Mephisto deems it might be nigh time for a little break. Just in time too, as he starts feeling his eyelids drop and mind fog, a stale cup of tea now cold on the side of his desk. Before drifting to sleep, the last of its scents wafts over to him, reminding him that he did your favorite blend today.

—

This must be a dream, he thinks.

When he opens his eyes he's met with the darkness of his office, the halls outside now dead quiet. Someone must have turned off the lights, as he slowly sits up from his position on the sofa.

Wait, when did he get here?

He surmises it must have been the club president or Diavolo, as they often come to his office to check in on him from time to time. Still, there's a weird feeling bubbling in his stomach, something that he hadn't felt in a while.

Why was his hand so warm?

It's then that he finally notices it— the soft, steady breathing of someone laid next to him. He stops himself from jumping in alarm, and just before his mouth opens in condemnation that some random demon went and slept with him while he was taking a nap—

"Mephisto? Are you awake now?"

A voice lulls him back to his senses.

He knows that voice. He knows it all too well.

He notices the hand clutching his; tightly, like they weren't going to let go anytime soon. He feels the lone pact on his wrist suddenly burst to life, like it never faded in the first place, and he finally realizes what was happening.

If this is a dream, please don't let it end, he pleads.

The figure sits up, still not letting go of his hand. He feels another hand carress his face in a warmth that he never thought he would feel again, before he finally locks eyes with the figure.

"It's not a dream. I'm home."

"You..." the words get caught in his throat, unable to say anything. He resorts to taking his free hand, the one shaking uncontrollably, as he returns the gesture of carressing your face. You lean into his touch, chasing the warmth it radiates.

He doesn't notice his tears starting to flow, nor does he notice you lean towards him in time to react as you kiss away the salted dew from his eyes. In true Mephisto fashion, he retaliates, like he always does, smashing his lips all over your face until it reaches yours, and you laugh as you finally feel his smile while taking in his fervent attempt of making up for lost time— hands still bound together, bodies falling back to the comfort of the couch, your name spilling out of his mouth everytime he catches his breath. In his arms, here,

you're home.

—

tags: @insomniachox @whatever-fanfics

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me mephistopheles #obey me mephisto #obey me x reader #obey me fanfic #mephistopheles x reader #om mephistopheles #atticsandwich asks

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ariesqueencobra · 1 year ago

Text

what we used to be | l

Pairing: Eli Moskowitz x Fem!Reader

Summary: You meet a new kid and your feelings for your best friend are said aloud.

Warnings: mentions of bullying, mentions of slut shaming, implications of violence, implications of strict parents

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Starting my first ever series for Eli! I always wanted to do a series following his story line in the show along with a female character so I did! I'm aware of other series being done like this by other writers on here, but this will be my own unique twist. There are similarities because it does follow the show's storyline but different because of my own interpretations!

I don't consent to this work being copied, translated or reposted.

“If the limit never approaches anything, then the limit does not exist,” you listened to Eli as he helped you with your math homework. “But in this case, it does, so what is it?” he pointed at the problem on the sheet.

“Two?” you furrowed your brows, trying your best not to sound like you were guessing.

“C’mon, Y/N, you’re in Calculus for a reason,” he encouraged.

“Only because I passed Trig with an 89, they only let me in because of pity,” you frowned.

Calculus has been your enemy since the beginning of the semester. You really didn’t want to take the class in the first place but your parents had been adamant about you taking higher-level classes. You would’ve been fine filling up your schedule with more creative art classes like ceramics and photography, but that wasn’t the agreement.

Math and science classes were part of the agreement.

Thankfully, you had two smart best friends who helped you whenever you had trouble.

“My advice?” Demetri spoke up.

You and Eli glanced at him, a knowing look on both your faces.

To be honest, while you had two best friends, only one was good at helping you out.

Demetri on the other hand? He had a habit of giving unsolicited advice. But because you loved him, you tolerated and actually encouraged him to hear what he had to say.

“Rewatch Mean Girls,” he deadpanned.

You let out a chuckle. “What I’m hearing is, that you guys are agreeing to watch it for our next movie night,” you grinned.

Both boys groaned.

“I’m fine watching your sci-fi, superhero films, but a girl needs her rom coms and chick flicks,” you mused.

Being the only girl and having vastly different interests compared to the guys, there were moments where you felt outnumbered. Sometimes you have to plead for one movie night to be your pick.

“I’d be down for Mean Girls this Friday,” Eli shrugged.

You silently clapped your hands, face creeping up with heat when you and Eli made eye contact.

“Demitiri?” you turned your attention to your other best friend.

After a minute, he rolled his eyes, agreeing.

“This Friday, my place,” you grinned. “Both my parents will be having a date night, so we’ll have the place to ourselves,”.

“Are you sure your dad will allow that?” Demetri cocked a brow. “That man is scary and I don’t want to know what will happen when he sees his daughter home alone with two boys,” he shuddered.

“He won’t mind, he likes you guys,” you attempted to reassure. “Besides, we’re just watching a movie,”.

“We know that, but will he?” Demetri asked in a mix of sarcasm and sincerity.

“C’mon, my dad isn’t that scary,” you trailed.

“I-I don’t think he likes me very much,” Eli said quietly.

“He does,” you straightened up. “Don’t worry about my dad guys, you’ve known him for ten years,” you stated.

You watched as the boys avoided your gaze, the sound of the cafeteria surrounded you when they both fell silent. Leaning back in your seat, you wondered why they were bringing this up now.

Like he read your mind, Demetri spoke up, “I’m just pointing out an observation I’ve noticed for the last few years. The older we get, the more of a threat your dad thinks we are,” he explained. “Guess it’s the raging teenage hormones!” he gestured with his hands, joking at the end.

Eli’s lips spread out into a smirk.

Relaxing, you shook your head at the way your best friend acted, even though you found the joke to be funny.

For the next few minutes, Eli went on to explain limits to you. You were about to ask a question when a new presence stopped you.

“Hey, can I sit here?”

You all turned your attention to a kid with dark hair and brown eyes, a tray in his hand as he gestured at the empty seat next to Eli.

You were about to welcome him until Demitri beat you to it.

“Check back next semester as you can see we’re entirely booked,” he said sarcastically but the new kid didn’t catch it.

With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, he was about to walk away.

“He’s kidding, you can sit,” you gestured to the empty seat. “I’m Y/N, that’s Demitri and Eli,” you introduced.

“Miguel,” he nodded.

Just then, Yasmine and her entourage walked passed, causing Miguel to go into a trance.

You frowned at his reaction. You hated that just cause they were pretty, it forgave all the terrible things they’ve done to your friends and you.

“You’re just torturing yourself,” Demetri warned. “They’re the rich girls”.

“Do you talk to them or…?” Miguel asked.

“Yeah, all the time,” Demetri feigned a smirk. “We hang out after school, make out,” he shrugged. “Eli is homecoming king, and gets laid more than anyone”.

You rolled your lips together, glancing at your lap.

“You pretty much signed away all hopes of losing your virginity before college the moment you sat at this table,” he frowned.

Comments like that reminded you that boys will be boys. In the sense that virginity is still frowned upon. The societal pressure to lose it before a certain age disgusted you.

What happened to not conforming to society's rules?

“Oh, great, Yasmine is looking at us,” Eli narrowed in on himself, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts. “Probably making fun of me”.

“I wouldn’t assume that,” you reassured. “She’s always going to have that nasty look on her face,” you grimaced.

Then you made eye contact with her.

She whispered something to Moon, causing both of them to burst out laughing.

You figured she was making fun of you again, calling you a slut or whatever. Dropping your gaze to your food, you checked your phone for the time.

“I gotta go, it was nice meeting you,” you smiled towards Miguel as you got up.

“What about your homework?” Eli asked.

“I got limits now,” you attempted to reassure but your composure fell when you accidentally looked Yasmine’s way. “Besides I have to get my sketch done before class,” you hoisted your bag over your shoulder.

Art was your passion. Since you could talk, you could draw. Your best friends might’ve been computer nerds, but you? You were an artistic geek.

Still, as talented as you were, Yasmine and Moon used that area of your life to make fun of you. Whether it was a silly doodle you drew during class or an actual piece you worked your ass off for class.

They tried to diminish your spirit with your art, but thankfully you haven’t lost it yet.

Shaking your head to brush the thoughts away, you gulped down the lump in your throat and managed to make your way down the hall to your art class twenty minutes early.

While you were gone from the lunchroom, the conversation at the table shifted, focusing on you.

“Do you like her or something?” Miguel asked Eli.

The awkward boy stilled at the newcomer’s question, opting to fidget with his fingers while staring at his tray. He didn’t think he was being obvious, the only other person who knew of his infatuation with you was Demetri.

“He’s been in love with her since they met in kindergarten, her too but they’re too scared to admit it,” Demetri answered for him. “I think they’ll get married before either of them admit they do like each other,”.

It was true.

You liked Eli and Eli liked you.

The moment you laid eyes on him on the playground, that was it for the two of you. But both of you are socially awkward, insecure people…neither of you had the guts to tell each other how you truly feel.

Leaving Demetri to stand and watch at the mutual pining unwind for the last ten years.

“I’m not in love with her,” Eli defended. “Besides, she wouldn’t ever like someone like me,” he folded in on himself.

“You won’t know if you never strike first,” Miguel tried to reason.

“Good luck with getting Eli to do that,” Demerit said.

Eli sighed, keeping his gaze down. As much as he wanted to argue, he knew deep down that his friend was right.

“Keep this door open,” your dad barked quickly followed by your mother scolding him.

The door had been half-way opened, or half-way closed, when he walked past. He decided it wasn’t to his standards so he made sure the door was wide, banging it against the adjacent wall.

“Sorry,” you said, not looking up from your notebook.

You were sitting in your room, Eli helping you study for your Clac quiz tomorrow. It was a routine for the two of you, hanging out after school and doing homework. Quality time well spent and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Sometimes Demetri would join but he decided to play Dungeon Lord after school today. Part of you was happy to hear he wouldn’t be joining.

Especially when that meant you spent more time with Eli. Meaning there would be more brief moments where your shoulders or knees would brush. Which would send butterflies straight to your tummy.

“Miguel seems nice,” Eli shrugged, placing his pen down. “He mentioned something about karate, he wants all of us to join,” he smiled lightly.

“Really?” you smirked. “What did Demetri say to that?” you laughed, knowing he had some highlighted opinions about it.

“Wasn’t on board, but I don’t know,” he glanced down. “Maybe it could be fun,” he said.

“If you want to,” you passed him a smile. “It’d be nice to see you kick Kyler’s ass for once,” you sighed, glancing at the problem in your book.

You missed the way he frowned but he continued, “You should join too,”.

“Me?” your eyes widened and you glanced up to meet his gaze.

“Yeah,” he cracked a grin. One that was big and genuine, something that only happened in front of you or Demetri. “You’d be great at kicking ass too,” he reasoned.

“In my dreams,” you huffed out a laugh. “I can barely do a push-up,” you shook your head.

“Maybe just think about it,” he suggested.

“Okay, I will,” you nodded. “So, how am I doing?” you licked your lips.

You pushed your notebook between the two of you.

Both of you leaned in, your shoulders brushing against each other. Anytime you inhaled, you smelled him.

He smelled nice.

“You’re doing good, you just need to remember that an open circle means the limit exists but not in the function,” he pointed at the problem you got wrong.

“Stupid circles,” you huffed out a breath, running a hand over your hair. “Thanks again, Eli,” you pressed your lips into a soft smile.

“You’re going to do great, okay?” he nudged his elbow with yours.

“Okay,” you nodded, allowing yourself to believe.

You went over the material for a few minutes, your mind getting lost in all things limits and functions.

Unbestowent to you though, Eli was watching you.

He watched the way your nose would scrunch when you didn’t understand what you read the first time around. The way your lashes fluttered as you scanned the page. The way you would lick your lips in concentration. The way you would crack your knuckles when they got too stiff.

He was utterly in love with you.

Being friends for ten years, you’d reach that point without even dating. Even if it was just puppy love, he knew one thing for sure—he likes you, a lot.

He doubted himself when he thought about what Demetri said. And when he thought about the comment Kyler made earlier of him being a loser. He had come home crying, knowing he was never going to get a girlfriend because of the way he looked. But then his mind thought to Miguel.

Maybe he could be wrong, maybe he could get a girlfriend. Maybe it could be you.

Without second-guessing any further, he opened his mouth.

“Hey, Y/N?” he cleared his throat.

“Yeah?” you reached your gaze to his, your head resting in your palm.

“I like you,” he confessed, face going pale at the fact that he actually said that to you.

Your eyes went wide, face blank as you took in his words. You didn’t say anything for a few moments, just staring at your best friend.

“I-you know, never mind, I shouldn’t have said anything,” he felt embarrassed, shaking his head as he went back to his homework.

“Wait!” you reached out and touched his arm. “I like you too,” you gulped, a smile creeping up on your face.

“Really?” he seemed taken aback.

You nodded enthusiastically.

The two of you gazed at each other for what felt like a few minutes until you bent over in giggles, still in disbelief.

“I’m glad you told me,” you reached for his hand on your desk, squeezing it.

“Me too,” he squeezed it back.

You felt your cheeks heat up before you turned back to your work.

The rest of the night was spent with the two of you doing work, holding hands.

The next day at school, Eli was sitting with Demetri and Miguel.

Having just told the news about you and him, he was feeling a little proud of himself that he actually did it.

And more relieved that you actually reciprocate his feelings.

“I was right, wasn’t I?” Demetri raised a brow.

Eli smiled, his cheeks turning pink while Miguel laughed.

“I’m glad someone took my advice, now you see my Sensei is legit,” Miguel pointed out.

Eli nodded, a small smile on his face.

“I’m gonna need more evidence to back it up,” Demerit crossed his arms over his chest. “This,” he gestured to Eli, “has been a work in progress for ten years, your words of encouragement just gave him enough push,” he scoffed.

About to respond, Eli was stopped by the smell of your perfume. He turned his head to the left just in time to greet you as you approached the table.

“Hi, guys,” you greeted, taking your seat next to Eli. “Hi, Eli,” your cheeks warmed up.

“Hi, Y/N,” his eyes beamed with admiration. “You look nice,” he blushed, glancing over the pretty green sundress you wore today, but his gaze circled back to your face.

“Thanks,” you glanced down, running a hand over the skirt. “It’s been in my closet for a while, I figured it’d be happy to see the light of day,” you shrugged, unaware he wasn’t talking about the dress.

“You should wear it more often,” Eli commented.

Demetri and Miguel sent each other a knowing look before Miguel decided to cut the awkward lovey-dovey talk.

“So, Y/N, did Eli tell you about joining my karate dojo?”

You focused your gaze on him, the warmth of your cheeks dissolving when your mind was pushed away from Eli. “Uh, yeah,” you smiled. “I thought about it, but I don’t know if I want to do something like that. I need my hands for my art, I don’t want them beaten and bruised,” you stifled a laugh.

Miguel nodded in understanding. “Thanks for thinking about it, Y/N,” he pressed his lips in a smile.

“No problem. Anyway, do you want to join us for movie night this Friday?” you extended your invitation to him. “You can pick the movie,” you offered.

“Sure, I’d like that,” he grinned.

“Awesome”.

Friday came around and you were all seated on your couch in the living room watching Spider-Man.

You actually enjoyed the pick, especially watching the nerdy boy become the hero. One who reminded you a lot of the boy sitting right next to you.

Miguel was on the recliner, Demetri on the other end of the couch, and Eli in the middle with you on the other side. Except, Eli was scooted closer to you, only a bowl of popcorn separating the two of you.

Your hands happened to brush a lot when you’d reach for the popcorn. Though, you didn’t mind.

You had gotten to the part where Peter Parker discovered his powers, a glass in your hand as you had come back from refilling your drink.

“That’s a cool painting,” Miguel noticed the piece of art framed by the TV.

It was an oceanscape of the beach.

“Y/N painted it,” Eli stated.

“No kidding,” Miguel said in amazement, standing up to study it. “You’re really talented, Y/N,” he smiled over to you.

“Thanks, that was my first one so my parents framed it,” you shyly said.

“You should see her sketchbook, it’s filled with the most awesome things,” Eli smiled.

You glanced at him, sending him a thankful look.

“Can I see?” Miguel’s eyes beamed. “My yaya loves paintings, I’d love to show her your work,” he said.

“Yeah, I’ll grab some that you could take pictures of,” you stood up, cheeks on fire.

It wasn’t often that you got praised for your art, mainly from your parents or your friends. So this was new. But you took the pleasure from it nonetheless.

Heading to your room, you grabbed a few of your favorite paintings before you went to your bag in search of your sketchbook, only you couldn’t find it.

As panic erupted, you thought back to the last time you saw it. You had it in art class and then you went to P.E. You could’ve sworn you had it then, but you guessed you were wrong.

“I can’t find my sketchbook,” you gulped, walking back to the living room.

“Maybe you left it in your locker or someone found it and took it to the lost and found,” Miguel offered, gesturing with his hands.

“Yeah, it’ll turn up,” Demetri reassured. “I don’t think anyone would have wanted to steal it,” he shrugged.

“We’ll help you find it on Monday,” Eli said, reaching for your hand.

“Thanks, guys,” you blew out your breath.

You were glad you had them and you really hoped your sketchbook turned up.

Part of you didn’t want to think about it, but you were worried about who had it if they did. And it only traced back to two girls.

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