#cross counter -02-

[yridenergyridenergy]

Kyo with Chiyospark, who not only designed stuff for his café lately, but who was also the bassist in the band who performed with Petit Brabançon yesterday in Osaka.

[muniimyg]

♡ 02: how you talk so sweet when you're doin' bad things

series m.list // taglist

note: ahh !!! thank u all for all the love with pt 1 :) drama begins in pt 3 !!! enj their good moments while it lasts (aka this pt) lmk what u think of their dynamic & if u have any predictions for whats to cum ;) HAHAH mwaaa

also !! happy birthday @jkslvsnella 🌟 thank u for always reading and loving my work 💛

warnings: mean!jk exposes oc (she's a virgin) ,, banter

//

the dim neon lights of the arcade cast a playful glow over the group as they gather by the bar. laughter and overlapping chatter fill the air, but jungkook’s eyes dart toward the entrance, scanning every face that walks in.

he blinks, trying to recenter himself.

why the fuck is he waiting for you?

“do you guys want to play a hoop shoot round?” yoongi suggests, leaning lazily against the counter. “loser buys the next round.”

the guys snicker but agree. without much discussion, they begin heading toward the games, but jungkook lingers behind, hesitating to speak.

there’s a weird feeling that stirs inside him.

he wants to stay and wait for you—wants everyone to stay and wait for you (though he knows how ridiculous that sounds).

his mouth opens, about to call them back, when—

“___!” jimin’s voice cuts through the noise. “over here! great timing!”

jungkook stiffens, tilting his head and clearing his throat as he notices you walking in.

you weave through the scattered crowd, waving casually to the group. your jacket hangs lazily off one shoulder, your hair is slightly windswept, and your lips are parted, like you’re already preparing some half-assed excuse.

“you’re late,” jungkook mutters, his tone sharp as you greet the others with warm hugs and him with a smug smile.

“no shit, mr. know-it-all,” you shoot back, rolling your eyes before awkwardly shifting closer to him for a quick, half-hearted hug.

he doesn’t even unfold his arms, patting your back stiffly—once, twice, three times.

“whatever.”

“didn’t know you took attendance. god, what don’t you do?”

“be late,” he quips, voice clipped.

you scoff, pulling away and swatting his chest. “nerdy of you, but whatever. we all have to accept our flaws one day. acknowledging them is the first step, or so they say.”

“it’s courtesy to show up on time,” he snaps, leaning casually against a nearby pinball machine. his eyes rake over you like he’s trying to solve a puzzle he’s losing patience for. “figured you’d get lost or trip over your own feet.”

“oh, bite me,” you retort, stepping closer and crossing your arms. “maybe find something better to do than waiting for me, hmm? something better to do than—”

before you can finish, a rowdy group stumbles toward the air hockey table behind you, shoving their way through the already cramped space.

jungkook moves without thinking, his hands firm on your waist as he pulls you aside and switches places with you.

“move,” he says bluntly, his grip barely lingering before he steps away again.

you freeze, your words dying in your throat. the touch—the casual way he did it, the way his hands fit so naturally—throws you off. your heart stutters for reasons you can’t quite name.

“what are you—”

“you’re in the way,” he interrupts, already back to leaning against the pinball machine like nothing happened.

“shit, jungkook,” you manage, trying to sound unaffected. “you can’t just move me like that. i almost thought you cared about me.”

“would you rather get knocked into the air hockey table?” he says flatly. “didn’t think so.”

you narrow your eyes at him, brushing past whatever just passed between you.

“fine,” you say with exaggerated calm, stepping away. “thank you… i guess.”

“what was that?”

“i said what i said.”

“say it again.”

“no.”

“don’t make me beg for something i deserve,” he groans, his tone a mix of mock irritation and teasing.

you roll your eyes. “sure… i’ll say it again—for the right price.”

“oh?” his brow lifts, and he’s already following after you. “how much are you charging these days?”

you turn back to glare at him, making a face as he smirks.

what you don’t see, what no one else notices, is how closely jungkook walks behind you as you move through the crowd. his hand hesitates near your waist again before he drops it, settling instead for angling his body, subtly shielding you from the chaos of the arcade.

it’s instinctive, unconscious—a quiet sort of care that he’d never admit to. but it’s just how jungkook is when you aren’t looking.

the air buzzes with the sounds of arcade games—buzzers, dings, and conversation on top of conversation. by now, the group has gravitated towards the hoop-shoot machines, their competitive banter echoing as they took turns missing shots.

when nam joon’s ball bounces dramatically off the rim, nearly taking out jimin, they all collapse into laughter.

"okay, okay!" taehyung claps his hands. "before anyone gets concussed, let's take a group photo!"

everyone gathers in front of the machines, huddling close together. you find yourself standing beside jungkook, his towering figure crowding your space as the guys shuffle to fit into the frame.

“move in,” jin calls out, holding up his phone. “no dead space.”

before you can step away, taehyung and yoongi each grab one of your shoulders, pushing you into jungkook’s side. his arm brushes yours, and when you glance up, he’s already rolling his eyes.

"stop squirming," he mutters.

"stop breathing down my neck," you bite back, earning a stifled laugh from yoongi.

“not my fault you’re short as fuck.”

“what about me do you not have a problem with, nerd?”

just as jungkook is about to tell you off, hobi hits his stomach and hisses at him. 

“shut the fuck up, smile, and—”

hobi bumps his hip with jungkook’s, causing him to lean closer to you. your head tilts and so does his. he clears his throat as he regains his balance. you continue to smile, pretending not to notice him looking at you. 

as the group poses, jin snaps several photos before pulling the phone down to review the shots. as everyone leans in to check the screen, a chorus of teasing begins.

"aw, look at that!" taehyung says, his grin spreading like wildfire as he leans closer to the phone screen. "this is a moment for the scrapbook. you two look so cute together."

the corner of jimin’s mouth twitches as he leans over taehyung’s shoulder, squinting at the photo before letting out a dramatic gasp.

“wait, is this… is this our it couple debuting right here? how did we miss this? it’s always those fucking enemies to lovers stories that hit… this could be it. oh my god!"

yoongi, not one to miss a beat, smirks from the side. 

“don't need to start. pretty sure the fanbase already exists.”

jin snorts. “don’t expose our late night conversations, bro. that’s our special bonding time.”

yoongi hisses at jin, smacking the back of his head for saying it so weird. 

"someone call dispatch," nam joon adds, cackling. "they're going viral as we speak."

"you’re joking,” you groan, face already warming as the guys snicker. “stop acting like it’s some movie poster. it’s just a group picture and—look at that! jungkook is looking at me like i’m stinky.”

“you are stinky.” jungkook scoffs.

you shove him playfully. “shut up.”

“oh no, it’s definitely poster-worthy,” jimin chimes in, nudging jungkook’s arm as he grins like a proud parent. "you can practically feel the sparks flying. jungkook’s over there pretending to hate it, but look at his hand. hovering like it’s meant to be."

"right?” hobi quips. “look at the way he’s leaning into her—”

jungkook glares. “hyung, you pushed me—”

“—bro’s living the rom-com life and doesn’t even know it.” hobi finishes. 

"yeah," yoongi deadpans, his lip curling in a mock-serious expression as he gestures vaguely at the photo. "what trope are you guys?”

"trope?" you snort, shooting a glance at Jungkook. “that’s going too far. i can’t be associated with him to that point. even angels like me have limits..”

"awh, don't ruin it," jimin teases. “you two look like you were made to stand next to each other. it’s fate, ___.”

"fate?" jungkook finally chimes in, his brow quirking as he scoffs. “more like bad luck. uglyass picture, by the way. jump-scare. trigger-warning. photoshop her out, please.”

his words are sharp, but the teasing rolls on, taehyung clapping jungkook on the back as he leans in closer. 

“don’t fight it, man. just admit it—you’re glowing.”

“you’re drunk.” jungkook grumbles, crossing his arms.

but even as he tries to brush it off, you catch the way his jaw ticks, the way his ears turn a faint shade of red. it almost makes you want to keep the teasing going.

almost.

you stretch over and take a proper look. 

your shoulders are pressed against jungkook’s, his hand awkwardly hovering near your back as if unsure where to put it. it’s ridiculous, but you decide to lean into the joke.

“awh,” you say, nudging him with a smirk. “wait. we do look cute together. look at you—nerdy boy finally getting close to the pretty girl. must be the highlight of your life.”

jungkook’s jaw tightens, and for a second, you think he might just let it slide. But then, his eyes narrow, and the smugness in his tone cuts deeper than you expect.

“yeah?” he says, his voice low and dripping with sarcasm. “because the pretty girl who’s still a virgin at twenty-four is such a catch, right? must be fun carrying the weight of no guy ever wanting that kind of pressure.”

the air stills.

“what?” jungkook asks, unsure of why everyone’s mood suddenly shifted. “guys, we don’t need to hold ___’s hand for this. her situationships aren’t real. no guy wants her and it’s because of all her fucking issues… so don’t tease me about shit like that. why would i want her? she’s too fucked up.”

your heart sinks as the laughter dies around you, the guys exchanging awkward glances. you force a tight smile, shrugging as if the jab didn’t just land in the worst way possible.

“ha… ha… yeah. sure. what he said,” you mutter, slipping out of the group without looking back.

you weave through the crowd, the din of the arcade becoming background noise to the rush of your thoughts. yoongi and nam joon sigh and excuse themselves to follow you. 

“fuck,” taehyung groans at jungkook. “for a nerd, you aren’t that smart."

jungkook throws his head back.

"okay, fine. i went too far."

taehyung forces a laugh and pats jungkook's shoulder. "i just... i don't why do you always shit the bed when it comes to ___. would it kill you consider her feelings once in a while?"

"she started it—"

"we started it," taehyung corrects him. "you fuck it up and then we have to fix it. why can't we start it and you figure it out?"

"what's there to figure out?"

taehyung sighs.

"seriously, what's there to figure out?" jungkook repeats, his voice rough with frustration, though there’s a slight tension in his jaw, as if he’s trying to keep himself in check.

taehyung runs a hand through his hair like he’s had this conversation a million times before. “you overthink everything, man. just… talk to her. it’s not that hard.”

jungkook scoffs. "i talk to her."

"yeah right," taehyung shoots back, now leaning in closer, his eyes narrowing with a mixture of concern and exasperation. "she isn't gonna stick around forever... especially with all the shit you pull. is it that hard to show that you care for her? even just a little bit? you can even fake it for all we care... just... stop doing this. stop fucking it up."

jungkook opens his mouth to retort, but then he just...

doesn’t.

he falls silent, his gaze drifting over to where you’re standing, still laughing with yoongi, oblivious to the conversation happening behind her. his expression softens for a moment, but the tension doesn’t fully leave his shoulders.

“... i don’t know what to say to her,” jungkook mutters after a long pause, his voice quieter this time, almost vulnerable.

taehyung rolls his eyes, his voice taking on a teasing edge again.

"i'm not asking you to be perfect," taehyung says, his tone suddenly serious. "i just want you to try.”

jungkook's eyes narrow, but he doesn’t argue.

he knows taehyung’s right.

and the idea of trying—really trying—is both terrifying and somehow comforting. it’s just a matter of taking the first step.

"alright, alright. i get it." jungkook sighs, running a hand through his hair. "but if i mess it up again…"

“you will,” taehyung says with a grin, smacking him on the back. “and when you do, we’ll be here to clean up your mess.”

jungkook groans. "great. thanks. god, you guys are impossible."

taehyung just laughs, clapping him on the shoulder.

"that’s what friends are for."

“that one’s cute,” you say softly, pointing to a pastel plushie trapped inside the glass case. “but aren’t these things rigged?” 

yoongi glances at the plushie, then back at you, offering a faint smile. “hello kitty? can’t you just buy it in store?”

“it’s different.”

“how so?”

“winning it is better. means more.”

he laughs at you. ruffling your hair, he asks; “think you can win it?”

“probably not,” you admit with a dry laugh, rubbing the back of your neck. “i suck at these things.”

unbeknownst to you, jungkook has followed, lingering a few steps behind. 

he watches quietly as you and yoongi chat, his arms folded across his chest, his usual cocky posture softened just enough to give off a more contemplative vibe. his gaze shifts to the hello kitty plushie you pointed out, taking in every detail—the soft pastel fabric, the little bow. 

his jaw tightens.

for a second, he looks almost… distant. something flickers across his face—a mix of regret, maybe? or determination? it’s hard to tell, and he’s quick to push the thought aside. he can’t figure out why this damn hello kitty plushie is bothering him, but it does.

his hands shift in his pockets, fingers brushing against the cool edges of his arcade card. the sound of you and yoongi laughing lightly as you move on to a different machine pulls him out of his trance. 

he’s still standing there, staring at the claw machine, his mind reeling.

get it together, he tells himself. it's a stupid fucking hello kitty plushie.

but as the two of you move further away, jungkook finds his feet taking him toward the claw machine. his body moves on its own, a subtle, almost unconscious determination settling into his posture. he steps up to the machine, his heart thumping a little louder than usual.

with a quick flick of his wrist, he taps the arcade card to the screen, paying for a round. The soft beep of the machine filling the air is oddly satisfying. he glances at the claw, watches it shift slightly in the plastic case, and his mind sharpens. the whole world narrows down to this one moment—the claw, the plushie, and the stupid, ridiculous thought that maybe, just maybe, it would mean something.

he leans in a little closer to the machine, his focus narrowing as his fingers hover just over the controls. his chest tightens, just a little.

but there’s something about this—about trying—that feels...

new.

almost like he's playing for something that’s not just a game.

as the arcade starts to empty out, the night comes to an end.

the group begins to break into separate plans. some were heading out for more drinks, the usual late-night crowd craving more chaos, while others, like you and jungkook, were heading home. yoongi, standing beside you both, clapped jungkook on the shoulder and offered a casual “see you later,” his eyes lingering a moment too long on the tension that still hung between you two.

by now, jungkook had tried to apologize multiple times throughout the night. too many times to count—but each time, you’d brushed him off, walking away before he could finish his words.

it was the same pattern that had played out earlier, with him following close behind, trying to make up for whatever had gone wrong, but you’d always managed to slip out of his reach, words left unsaid and apologies unacknowledged.

as you stepped outside into the crisp night air, the glow of neon signs casting faint colors over the sidewalk, you took a deep breath. the cool wind ruffled your hair, and you tucked a stray strand behind your ear, eyes darting to the ground, avoiding jungkook’s gaze.

“my hinge crush of the week wants to meet up… so, bye!” jimin called out, adjusting his jacket as he moved toward the waiting uber.

the others offered their farewells, the air filled with laughs and promises to meet again soon.

jungkook is quiet, his eyes still on you, a knot of frustration building in his stomach.

as you’re about to turn away, he finally speaks. his voice is soft but firm.

“can i drive you home?”

you don’t even look at him, a slight shake of your head as you took a step back.

“i’m good. thanks for the offer.”

he takes a slow step forward, determination flashing in his eyes.

“shit, ___. come on, don’t be like that. it’s late. i’m not letting you walk home alone.”

“i’m fine,” you reassure him again, taking another step away. “they’re all gone. you can stop pretending you care—w-whoa—“

but as you turn to leave, the way you step gets caught on a loose patch of pavement, and before you can stop yourself, you stumble forward. your heart lurches in your chest as your body lurches toward the ground. 

but a strong and steady hand grips your waist, pulling you back against a solid chest.

“fuck, watch your step—” jungkook mutters, his voice lower now, a hint of something you couldn’t quite place in it. his grip tightened just enough to keep you from stumbling again.

you freeze for a second, your breath catching as his fingers brushed against your side, his body warm against yours. the shock of his touch sent a strange shiver down your spine, but before you could react, his voice comes again, this time with a soft but unmistakable smirk.

“you’re all out of choices now.”

his words hang in the air as he takes your waist, gently but firmly guiding you toward his car. the playful edge in his voice made your stomach flip.

he doesn’t wait for a response.

he pulls you closer as you walk together. 

you want to pull away. 

you want to protest, but something about the way he holds you—steady, unwavering—makes it impossible to do anything but follow. 

so, you give in. 

you slide into the passenger seat of jungkook’s car, the leather cold against your legs as you settle in. the familiar scent of his cologne fills the small space, mixing with the faint scent of his car’s interior. before you can even close the door, jungkook is already moving to the driver’s side, slipping in next to you with practiced ease.

he turns the key, the engine rumbling to life, and immediately, he leans over to help you with your seatbelt. his hand brushes against yours, sending a strange flutter through your chest as his fingers fumble with the latch, and you try not to think too much about how gentle his touch is.

“thanks,” you mumble, turning your head toward the window, avoiding his gaze. 

the tension between you two still lingers, thick and heavy, but neither of you says anything, and soon the quiet hum of the engine fills the air instead.

the drive starts out like most others, the city lights blinking past the windows as jungkook takes a turn, his hands steady on the wheel. but then, as the cool night air seeps in through the slightly cracked window, you suddenly feel the chill of the evening air hit your skin, a shiver running down your spine.

you don’t even have to say anything. without a word, jungkook pulls off his jacket, glancing over at you. 

“you cold?” he asks, his voice low, almost concerned, but his eyes are still focused on the road.

before you can respond, his white jacket is draped over your shoulders like a blanket. 

it’s warm, soft—still holding the faint trace of his warmth—and for a moment, you find yourself frozen, not sure whether you should pull it off or accept the comfort. but it’s his gesture, the way he’s silently taking care of you, and the faint thought that maybe he’s not such an ass after all, that makes you just pull the jacket tighter around yourself, not saying anything.

the silence stretches on, with only the sound of his car’s engine and the soft tunes filling the air, low music that drowns out everything else.

it’s a little uncomfortable. 

a little too close. 

and yet, somehow, you don’t mind it.

minutes pass, and you can’t help but notice how the buildings are getting fewer, how the city streets are slipping behind, and suddenly, it hits you—he’s not turning into your neighborhood.

“wait,” you finally speak up, your voice sounding strangely foreign in the quiet car. “you just passed my place.”

he doesn’t even glance over at you, just keeps driving, his eyes focused on the road ahead. 

“i know.”

“then where are you going?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, but a flicker of annoyance laces your tone. “jungkook, what the hell?”

“the only way for you to talk to me,” he says, his voice calm but with a touch of something else beneath it. 

something you can’t quite place.

“what?” you blink, confusion clouding your thoughts. “this is considered kidnapping.”

jungkook chuckles, the sound low and almost playful.

“only way for you to talk to me, like i said.”

you narrow your eyes at him, a mix of frustration and something else building inside you. 

“you’re seriously driving me around for what, exactly? to waste gas? to waste your time?”

“to wait for you.”

“oh my god,” you stress. “you and your fucking words.”

he smirks. “are they working?”

you gulp. 

“come on, ___. act like a bitch all night, i don’t care… but you’re gonna talk to me.”

you’re quiet for a moment, staring out the window, watching the city blur past. the absurdity of the situation sinks in, but it’s also hard to ignore the fact that you’re starting to feel a strange sense of... comfort in his presence.

“fine,” you finally say, voice quiet but sharp. “what do you want me to say, huh? you’ve been apologizing all night and i’ve been brushing you off. you said what you said. it’s done.”

jungkook shifts in his seat, and for the first time, you notice how his grip tightens on the wheel, how his jaw clenches ever so slightly. 

“keep talking.”

“i’m done.”

“no,” he insists. “i don’t care what you say… i just need you to talk to me, ___. that’s all.”

you don’t respond right away, not sure how to react to that admission, or if it’s even true. but the way his words hang in the air, the sincerity behind them, makes you want to crack open. 

makes you want to say something—anything—but the walls are still up.

“do you want me to fuck you or something?” 

your eyes widen and your throat goes dry. 

what the fuck did he just say?

“excuse me?” 

jungkook then pulls over, parking his car at some random street. his car lights and the lamppost nearby are the only light sources… but that doesn’t stop you from knowing how close he is to you. you don’t need much light—you feel it. you feel his presence. 

“is that why your panties are in a twist? you need dick or something? you’ve been acting weird since you overheard me fucking—”

“i don’t want to know her name.” 

jungkook blinks at you. 

“... so you are bothered by her.”

you pause. 

“n-no. no, i’m not. it’s just… weird. i don’t want to know because i don’t want to know.”

“okay,” jungkook nods. “can i know something then?”

you hesitate. 

“do you forgive me yet? i… i fucked up. i’m sorry, __. seriously. that wasn’t cool of me.” 

you take a breath in. 

“i forgive you,” you admit. “but be honest with me. did you mean it?”

jungkook shakes his head profusely. 

“no,” he confesses. “no, i didn’t mean it. i think it’s cute that you’re a virgin—”

“stop!” you cry, throwing your hands to cover your face. “shut up.”

he laughs, finding your panic a little cute. 

“what? you never get horny?” 

you drop your hands, completely dumbfounded at how this conversation has unfolded in a matter of minutes. 

“i do,” you tell him. 

“with what? with who?” 

you tilt your head and squint at him. 

“curious?”

“disgusted, actually.” he mocks you. 

you can’t help but let out a laugh.  

then, a silence falls upon you two. 

but… it’s an okay kind. the kind where you two aren’t mad at each other and everything is truly lighthearted. it’s a rare kind of atmosphere for you two share. 

the tension that had once been suffocating now feels more like a slow burn, simmering quietly in the space between you. it’s strange, this shift. but it’s also... comforting.

in a way, it’s like stepping onto solid ground after floating in the middle of an ocean for too long.

you glance over at jungkook, his profile soft in the dim light from the streetlamps. his fingers are gripping the steering wheel lightly, his knuckles slightly pale, like he’s trying to keep himself grounded too. he’s not saying anything, but his presence is loud. in some ways, that’s all you need. 

that he’s here. 

that you’re both here, together, after all the back and forth, all the words exchanged, the small cracks and the moments of silence.

the question comes out before you can stop it, and you almost want to take it back the second it leaves your mouth. 

but you’re already committed. 

"think i could do it?" you say, voice softer than you intended, more vulnerable than you meant.

jungkook shifts in his seat slightly, his eyes flicking toward you.

“do what?"

"get you to want me?"

for a split second, you think you’ve gone too far. 

jungkook is quiet for a long time, and you can feel the weight of his gaze on you. he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. it’s like he’s weighing the question, figuring out if you mean it. if it’s just some fleeting thought, or if you’re really standing here, raw and honest, in the middle of it all.

and then he speaks, his voice low but steady, a hint of something in it that you can’t quite place.

“why would you want that?”

the question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you’re unsure of how to respond. but then you think about it, really think about it. 

"i don’t know."

the vulnerability is almost too much, too raw. 

it feels like every inch of you is laid bare, exposed in a way you weren’t sure you could handle. you stare at your hands, anything to avoid the intensity of his gaze, but it’s there, lingering in the quiet air between you. it fills the space, like you can feel every word left unsaid pressing against your chest.

jungkook doesn’t say anything right away, the silence stretching long enough that you start to wonder if maybe you said the wrong thing. maybe you pushed too far, too fast.

but then, he speaks.

"wanna find out?"

his voice is low, almost teasing, but there's something else there too—something that makes your heart skip a beat. 

you glance up at him, your eyes meeting his again, and you realize in that moment that this is where it all comes together. the question, the hesitation, the rawness of it all. 

he’s not pulling away, not like you expected.

he’s waiting…

for you.

[reyalvr]

SHE’S MINE | 02

-SO I HOPE AND PRAY YOU MAKE IT WORTH IT.

synopsis ┊ thrust into the spotlight, ken sato had easily become the next big thing tokyo had seen in decades. alongside his fame came the inevitable string of rumors, of which sprung forth scandals and discrediting information against his image. of course the obvious and most rational solution would be to address them like every other celebrity, but this was ken sato; nothing would ever be rational with him, which is how you wound up with a ring on your finger and the sato name in your papers. 

genre ┊ fake dating, fake marriage, idiots-to-lovers, friends-to-lovers, slight angst, chaotic fluff, mild smut

pairing ┊ ken sato x fem-PA!reader, ken sato x fake-wife!reader

warnings ┊ mild cursing, eventual smut, mentions of alcohol, all events in ultraman: rising take place a year after kenji moves back to japan

word count ┊ 3.2k

author’s note ┊ YAPPEE! part two officially out- so sorry for the wait EUEUEU… hehe hope the things that happen in this chapter make up for it being a few days late :p also, i will not be accepting anymore tag list requests! this is due to the amount of users that i can tag per post T^T … nonetheless, i hope you guys enjoy the chap! happy reading :D 

p.s. i will be blocking the people who message me (rudely) to “hurry up” with the next chapters. i understand most, if not, all of you are excited to read the next chapters, but please do understand that i have my own schedule too :,)

prev. | next

YOU HELD YOUR HEAD IN YOUR HANDS, GROANING INTO YOUR PALMS. In front of you sat the thorn at your side, Ken Sato. He had just finished reading- or rather, skimming through the files you had stayed up compiling. You peeked at him through your fingers before standing up to erase yet another column of pros and cons from the board. 

Taking a swig from the energy drink he had brought you, you shake your head as you try to figure out what to do next. Truth be told, you were just eager to leave. You had two weeks left until you could finally let these burdensome tasks go, all you wanted was for Ken to go along with your last few instructions so as to make your exit easier. 

“I don’t get what’s so hard about this, Ken.” You say, turning back around to face him. “You pick a girl, you ‘date’ her for a bit, and then you ‘split up’ amicably. Simple as that.” 

He tilted his head at you, a sarcastic smile on his lips. “Oh sure, yeah. Let me just go out with a random girl and act like I’m head over heels in love with her.”

“Yes, exactly that.” You reply with the same tone, going back to your seat. “Now you’re getting it!”

He rolls his eyes, placing the stapled papers back on your desk. “I get it, I fucked up. But I still don’t get why you’re so…” He pauses, pressing his lips into a thin line and gesturing with his hands. “Persistent in actually trying to get me to date someone for the sake of my screw up.”

“And I don’t get why I have to keep reminding you of why I need to do this.” You lean back into your chair while pinching the bridge of your nose. “You were the one who-”

“-’Told the entire world you were in love’, yes I know! You’ve only said that like, what, a hundred times over?” He cuts you off, crossing his arms. “I know what I did. But I also know that I have a choice in this matter, don’t I?”

You go to reply but stop when you register his words. You knew that, obviously, which is why you had multiple plans. You were giving him the chance to choose, were you not? The various notes and drafted project plans were proof of that. They were all laid out right in front of him, what more could he possibly want? You look at him briefly, your eyes scanning his expression before darting back to the things scattered atop your desk. 

“I’m giving you choices.” You say flatly, slowly looking back up at him. 

“No, you’re giving me options and expecting me to choose.” He counters, his hand gesturing towards the papers. “I’m talking about my choice. My plan, suggestion, whatever you want to call it.”

“So what is your plan? Because as far as I’m concerned, you don’t seem to actually have one.” You reply, brows slightly furrowing at his stubbornness. 

“And that’s the point. I don’t need a plan,” He pauses, pointing his finger directly onto one of the outlines and it towards you. “I just need to ride it out.”

You let out a scoff, stunned at how Ken was still treating this so lightly. The corners of your lips tug up a bit, and you end up letting out a soft laugh in disbelief. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Am I, though?” He leans back, maintaining eye contact with you. “It’s the choice that takes the least effort. And besides, I thought you liked it when I kept things private.”

“Oh, don’t circle this back to me.” You say, pointing a finger at him. “Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to address your little mishaps?” 

“Yes, I do. Which is why I’m trying to help you.” He says a-matter-of-factly, his eyebrows raising as if to emphasize how much he understands what your job entails. 

“No, you don’t.” You argue back, mimicking his crossed arms.

“Were you always this stubborn?” Ken says, catching you off guard. 

You feel your features scrunch up in confusion and annoyance, narrowed eyes slanting even more as this back-and-forth of yours keeps going. “You’re one to talk.” 

At that he smirks slightly, rolling his eyes as he pokes a tongue into his cheek. The audacity of this man to act annoyed. You think, all the while you continue to glare at him. You close your eyes for the umpteenth time that morning, taking in a deep breath as your nails dig into your palms. Despite wanting to calm yourself down, his words rang in your head like an unwanted mantra.

His choice.

Would it be so bad to give Ken free reign on this? Granted, he was the one who caused it. Why be the one to clean up his mess- again, for that matter? You pinch the bridge of your nose, shaking your head once more. You could never understand how his mind worked, and you figured you probably never would. You tapped against the desk with your pen, bouncing your leg as you pondered on what to do. 

Your plan? Everything sets sail smoothly, with only the liability being either party slips up. Which, in your defense, you could cover up in the blink of an eye. His plan? No plotline with room for spontaneous detail sharing whenever he pleased. More work for you, more freedom for him. You stopped tapping then, clicking your pen into place. In your moment of contemplation, you had realized then this entire thing was useless. His plan, your plan, all the plans. None of them mattered, not if the end result was going to be the same. 

Goddamnit, you hated Ken Sato. 

You flip one of the stapled pieces of paper over, drawing over the blank side. “The start of your first full season with the Giants is in less than fourteen days. By then we would need to have already released another press release- ideally before your conference.” 

Ken jumps slightly, caught off guard by your sudden return to work mode. He watches as you line up different keywords with boxy arrows, all of which lead up to the ‘end’ of his lie. “What exactly am I looking at?”

You flash him a smile, albeit a fake one, and slide the paper to him. “Your plan.” Leaning back in your chair, you make a show of stretching your arms. “You’re right, we should go with your plan.” 

He laughs then, noting the lingering hints of sarcasm in your tone. “[Y/N], what are you doing?”

“Giving you your choice.” You reply with a small shrug. 

“Yeah, I can see that.” He says, his smile slightly faltering. “But… why?”

“It’s your life, isn’t it?” You tilt your head to the side, your lips pressed into a thin line. 

Now it’s his turn to be confused and annoyed. The way he understood this, you were letting him win. You were waving a white flag, surrendering to his incessant pleading. He scrunched his brows, still trying to process your words. You continued to sit there, waiting eerily patiently for him to respond. 

“And you’re serious about this?” He questions once more, hesitant to believe that you of all people would back down so quickly. 

“Mhm,” You hum, fiddling with your thumbs. “I’m just your assistant. Well, for two more weeks, that is.” 

He felt like he was being played. He blinked at you, mouth slightly agape. The you that was sitting in front of him now was different from the you thirty-six hours ago. Yesterday, you were desperate for him to follow your plans. He recalled your words, ‘If you're actually as sorry as you say you are, you’ll do as I say.’ But now that you’re telling him to do exactly what he wants, he’s nervous. 

Nervous that he finally caused you to hate him for good. 

“If you’re done sitting there like I said something stupid, you can go. Coach wants to see the team, it’d be in your best favor not to be on his bad side two weeks before playoffs.” You say, not even looking at him directly. 

He clears his throat, licking his lips. “Right, well, okay.” He stands up, sliding himself into his jacket before walking towards the door. “See you, then.”

You only hum in response, still not looking at him as you continue fixing all of the papers on your desk. Just before he’s fully out of your office though, you call out to him. 

“Yeah?” He answers immediately, peeking his head through the door. 

“Have fun riding it out.” You say, flashing him a smile. A real one, this time.

A WEEK HAD GONE BY JUST LIKE THAT. Surprisingly, Ken had been able to keep things under control. Even his comments to street paparazzis were concise, almost as if you were the one who coached him his lines. While you had expected him to do nothing, just as he suggested, you hadn’t expected him to last this long without an intervention from you. 

You sat by your window as your body sunk into your armchair, your eyes threatening to close. The early blue hues of the morning had started to break through the night sky, the clouds slowly parting to clear the sky. You typed vigorously against the keys of your laptop, eyes following the blinking cursor to prevent yourself from falling asleep right then and there. 

You had been up for hours constructing your updated résumé, keeping all your needed information concise and in one page. Despite having a well-rounded history in regards to jobs, the lingering fear of keeping yourself afloat was an inevitable burden you were scared of accidentally fulfilling. You had family, yes, but relying on them did something to your pride. Most especially since you had been low-contact ever since you abruptly moved to the city. 

Seeking help from friends was another option that was off the table. In all your years of working in the entertainment industry, the amount of people you had let into your life dwindled as you realized people’s true intentions. You had merely three people left in your life, and that was by far more than enough to keep you sane throughout the rest of your life.

You sighed heavily, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand. Truth be told, despite the factor of having to deal with Ken, this job has been the best in terms of your benefits. He was much like you- little circle, low-contact. Even his own team was a limited number, leaving you to deal with other jobs and tasks that would otherwise be done by different people. Yes, the workload was tiring, but the pay was enough to keep you alive ten times over. You could only say a silent prayer to whoever was listening to bless you once more once you let go of this for good. 

You sat back, finally satisfied with the way your page was laid out. You faced towards your window, closing your eyes as your breathing steadied. The birds were starting to chirp, the sun casting a foggy glow through the clouds. In this moment of solitude, you allowed yourself to relax; it was more than deserved. Not like anything could happen in your sleep, right?

WRONG, SO VERY WRONG. You groaned as you were awakened by the continuous buzzing of your phone. At first you had thought it was an alarm you had accidentally forgotten to shut off, but when it continued on, you eventually had to force yourself to wake up.

The sun was high up now, bright rays peeking through your blinds. You squinted, uncurling yourself from your chair as you got up and stretched. You yawned, scratching your head as you finally unlocked your phone. You were greeted with an endless stream of notifications, your mail app and other social media platforms pinging by the second. There was also the factor of the loud noise outside, though you made it out to be some kind of commotion or parade. 

Your screen then flashed the caller ID of an unknown number, followed by another sea of notifications. You blink yourself awake, now slightly worried at just how much texts and emails you had been receiving. Did Ken do something? Did someone die? Did Ken die?

Before you could even open any of the messages, you hear the familiar ringtone of one of your closest friends. You slide to answer, pressing your phone up to your ear. “Ami? What’s up, what’s wrong?”

She laughed, and you could practically see her shaking her head at you. “I’m guessing you just woke up? Check literally any news outlet right now, you’re gonna wanna see this.”

What the hell was going on? You mumbled something in reply, putting her on speaker as you did what she asked. 

You wished you hadn’t. In bold, bright red letters, the article’s headline read:

Extra Innings in the Press Box: Ken Sato’s Hidden Romance with Assistant Revealed! 

What you saw next nearly had you chucking your phone into the nearest wall. Attached right under the headline was you and Ken. You and Ken. You let out a curse, and you could hear the sighs coming from Ami on the other line. The picture was clearly shot from a hidden vantage point, the branches from the trees blocking the camera proof of it. Despite the distance, though, yours and Ken’s faces were clearly visible. 

“What the fuck!” You yell, now fully awake eyes wide in confusion. “When was this released? H-How did-”

“Two hours ago. Apparently some passerby sold the picture to the press, and said passerby just happened to be paparazzi.” Ami cuts you off, her tone serious yet concerned. “Trust me, if I had known something like this was going to be released, I would’ve done something about it.”

You left your phone on the kitchen counter as you paced back and forth, your hand glued to your forehead as you tried to wrap your mind around what was happening. Obviously it wasn’t true, you of all people knew that. But nobody else did, and that was the problem. 

“Ami what the hell is happening?” You manage to breathe out, still pacing. “This is all so-”

“Much? Yeah, I know.” She cuts you off again, and you can hear the bustling sounds from her office. “My own publisher is on my neck for this, God only knows what you’re going through. Are you okay? If you need help this could technically be classified as invasion of-”

“I do need help because this whole thing isn’t-” You start, but are ultimately cut off again when you hear the sounds grow louder outside. 

“[Y/N]? ‘You there?” Ami’s muffled voice calls out as you walk towards your window, peeking down to where the commotion was coming from. 

“Oh shit.” You gasp out, eyes widening even more as you realize the noises were coming from the sea of reporters and photographers waiting outside your townhouse. 

You swallowed hard, stepping back from the window with a hand to your mouth. This cannot be happening, this had to be some sick nightmare. Stumbling towards your phone, you mumbled some reply about needing to go before abruptly hanging up the call. Rude, perhaps, but Ami would understand. 

In the span of two hours of that damn article being released, eager and greedy gossip outlets had found your address and swarmed your only safe space. You held your phone close to your chest, running up to your room as you tried to catch your breath. You closed your eyes once more, breathing in and out heavily. The more you tried to convince yourself that this wasn’t happening, the more you slowly realized that it actually was. 

You opened your phone once more, muting all your socials and other messaging apps. You needed to think, and you needed to act fast. By memory, your fingers automatically scroll for Ken’s legal team. Having gotten him out of falsified defamations multiple times, acting during these types of situations was almost a second habit. But this didn’t involve just him, it involved you. You were a part of this mess, you couldn’t be the one to solve it.

A mantra of curses conjured up in your head, and you delete the previous number you had dialed in. Think, damnit. Think, think, think. You thought to yourself, nervously chewing on your bottom lip as you prayed for a solution to be presented to you. An alternative popped up into your brain then. Albeit that alternative was stupid, but it was something. 

You dialed his number, anxiously waiting as it rang. 

KEN WAS ON HIS BREAK, SITTING ON THE BENCH AS HE WIPED THE SWEAT OFF HIS FOREHEAD. Playoffs were about to start, and Shimura was working them to the bone to make sure everyone had their head in the game. He let out a deep breath through his nose, arms resting on his knees as tried to calm down after a few laps around the stadium. The rest of his teammates seemed to be reacting obnoxiously over something, though he didn’t have the energy to feign enthusiasm. 

One of his teammates teasingly nudged him then, giving him a playful grin. “Your secret’s out, huh? All this time you were with her.”

Ken laughed it off, still oblivious to the fact that nearly all of Japan now knew the face of his supposed girlfriend. He noted the specification in his tone, as if he were referring to a mutual friend of theirs. Which, again, was impossible- nobody but you knew the secret he was hiding. He gave them a nod before returning back to his own space. 

He felt his watch buzz against his wrist, and he was all but surprised to see you calling him on your day off. He sat up straight then, grabbing his phone to answer the call. He had to admit, he answered a little too excitedly. Or nervously. He couldn’t differentiate the two, not when it involved you. Ever since the start of this stunt, something in him shifts whenever you or anything related to you gets mentioned. He brushed it off as some sort of familiarity attachment, the weight of your sudden resignation still heavy on his shoulders.

Was he sad to let you go? Maybe, he wasn’t entirely sure. Aside from the fact that he had Mina, you did your job well. You knew the ins and outs of everything he liked and disliked, you kept him organized and on track. Sure, losing you would be another hurdle he would have to get over, but that doesn’t mean he would be… impotent without you. He clears his throat before he finally brings the phone up to his ear.

“Hey-” He starts, but stops when he notices the frantic panic in your voice. “Woah, hey slow down. What happened?”

“You happened.” You reply then, albeit through a shaky breath. 

“What?” He questions, brows furrowing in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s exactly as I said. You happened,” You paused, taking in a deep breath. “And now I need your help. Please.”

reyalvr © 2024 … do not repost, alter, or steal my work.

tags┊@mochminnie, @rreasonablydumbb, @sincerest-one, @fruticake, @lunaryasha, @lovingyeet, @sugacor3, @arrozyfrijoles23, @fennecspage, @mmeerraa, @azryaa, @akiradailylifes, @montybooks, @mmv-ymvm, @hore4ken, @greeniegreengreen, @meikoo, @random-3455, @todaywasafairytale07, @mythicalmoa, @imafangirlofeverything, @astylos, @vynwan-cbq, @rosegiyanabing, @icedberrytea, @ken-zah, @letharue, @chi222, @flooftoof, @c4ttheart, @ymrai, @stxrrielle, @alpha-mommy69, @ewitscat, @lightsinmycity, @furblrwurblr, @ayamago, @sugururawr, @secretlyapartofthisfandom @shellspider, @oh-kurva, @noraimp

[verxca]

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ [ imagine #02 ]

[ j. todd ] ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

── . ✦ in which jason is your next door neighbour.

✦ The first time you met Jason wasn’t out of high stakes - a dangerous situation - or from a friend of a friend. It was by pure will, and that stuck out to him. You’d come over to finally meet your new neighbour who’d moved into your small apartment complex, blushing slightly as a young man opened the door. There you were, standing with a small container of pasta in hand next to the hunk of a man you’d never met. All because you’d made some extra on accident.

“Thanks. This looks great.” He nods his head ever so slightly in gratitude.

✦ Jason notices how your shoulders relax as he takes the container— how cute you looked all nervous like that. Above all, he was just happy he didn’t come off as some shitty neighbour, fortified by the wide, gentle smile you ported while turning to wave goodnight.

✦ He sets the container onto his counter, picturing your face in his mind for a brief instant. It'd been a while since someone did something nice for Jason, just because. He wasn’t used to it.

✦ You’d crossed paths many times in the hallway, but what really sealed the deal was when your sink started to leak one random thursday evening. You couldn’t tell if it was minor or not, but you wanted to play it safe, knocking next-door. Who was Jason to deny a pretty girl, anyway? He accepts causally, though inside he’s beaming more than he’d like to admit.

“Yeah, no sweat, let me grab my tools.”

✦ And only a couple minutes later, he was hunched under your kitchen cabinets— sleeves rolled up and everything. His hands work deftly, years of practice making the task almost second nature.

“Do you need a water, or anything? I have soda, too.”

“Oh- Yeah. Water would be perfect.”

✦ You tried desperately to hide your growing grin while reaching up for a glass, the whole situation particular. Jay stayed longer than he had to once the leak was actually repaired; a whole half hour to put into perspective. Maybe it was the way your eyes lit up when you smiled, or the way you seemed genuinely happy to have him over that made him give in. Or, maybe, it’d just been too fucking long since he’d had a normal conversation like this.

“Eh, I've been around for a bit," He says vaguely as you two were sharing, "Long enough to know my way around. And- to know that this place is a hell of a lot better than some of the other shitholes in the city."

He gestures to your apartment with his glass in hand, leaning against your counter. “Yeah, tell me about it… It’s small, but it works.” Jason points to the sink he had just finished fixing with a smirk, eliciting a small chuckle from you.

✦ Your smile just lit up around him, and that was when he knew you’d be the woman he’d marry.

✦ But then, the fateful night hit. Red Hood had come back home after beating up some prominent criminals near the side of an old port— covered in bruises and a small stab wound to the lower abdomen. His head wasn’t in the game, and the feverish lightning made it hard to concentrate. He reached for his apartment door, mask in hand. It was late; he knew nobody would be out roaming the halls at this hour.

✦ The handle didn’t budge, though— his black gloves gripping onto the metal more harshly.

“Fuck!”

✦ Jay yelled, banging his hand against his apartment door. This? Now? Could his night not get any fucking worse? He pauses, his expression not angry, but just sad. Tired. He looked defeated. Jason walked over to the left of him, pausing before knocking on your door.

“Jason? Oh my god- Are you-”

✦ The stab wound in his side was throbbing, and you could see some blood dripping down from his leg. He needed to get it cleaned before he passed out.

“Please.”

✦ You don’t waste anytime before helping him inside, placing your hand on his lower back. You always had your suspicions about the guy— but this? He had to be a vigilante! Crime was rampant in this area, anyway… You prayed he was on the good side of things.

✦ Jason was sitting on your toilet seat, shirt off, gaze completely averted down. He didn’t want you to see him like this; all fucked up and broken. But you didn’t run screaming, or turn away in disgust— Instead you rushed to help him. He didn’t understand. You diligently cleaned his wound with an antiseptic, own expression sour from how much you knew it had to be hurting him. Jay tried his best to hold still despite the stinging pain, grunting slightly.

“Shit…”

✦ You look up, only to notice he was already staring down at you in between his legs. Your heart skipped a number of beats.

“Can you tell me what happened?” You ask calmly, and Jason just couldn’t take it. Your soft hands - your sympathetic expression - your fucking voice. He was going to break, averting his gaze in the matter of a second before clearing his throat roughly.

“Just crossed through the bad side of town.”

✦ Once the wounds were cleaned, you bandaged them up with extra care. Jason’s gaze was fixed between your hands working at his cuts, up to your pretty face. Apart of him wanted to apologize for showing up all unannounced like this, but another part of him— a part that's been starved of kindness and compassion for far too long wanted nothing more than to let you take care of him. Nobody had ever before, at least not with such compassion as you carried.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into this… I just didn’t know where else to go.”

✦ He explained his situation once you offered him a glass of water— how his apartment was locked. You don’t think twice before letting him stay the night.

✦ You handed him some old pyjama pants that were too big on you to sleep in, all the while his equipment sat in your bathtub for the time being. You didn’t waste your time before setting up the couch, too, even lighting a nice candle on the coffee table. Jason feels a warmth spread through his chest as you smile at him— it had nothing to do with the pain.

“Fuck- I can’t thank you enough for this.”

“Oh, Jason- It’s my pleasure, really. If you need anything during the night, just come get me, yeah?”

✦ You close the blinds and shut off all the lights before tucking yourself back into bed. Holy… what a night! You couldn’t get the image of him out of your head, knowing he trusted you enough for this. All the while Jason fell asleep like a light for the first time in many years, all thanks to your gentle care.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ part 2 ?

[avcdgrdn]

── .✦ [ FIC ]: can i really stay here? [ part two ]

[ a continuation of part one ]

mullet stanley pines x innkeeper reader

tags: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, sfw

word count: 1875

˙✧˖° ༘ ⋆｡˚

in any other circumstances, you wouldn’t even dare to imagine holding a man you had just met the same day.

but stan … was different.

when your eyes first locked with his from across the counter, you could tell that he was hurting, and badly. he was trying so hard to cover it up, and it worked for the most part — after all, up until now, nobody had cared about him enough to see through his facade.

but you saw straight through him. and not only that, you actually did something about it. you offered to care for his needs, at your own expense.

his father only ever saw him as an expense.

so, there you were, sitting at the bar, holding onto the maroon fabric of his jacket as he trembled like a leaf.

the scent of cigarette smoke and pine needles was strong in your nose as he buried his face into your shoulder. you could feel his stubble scratching against your skin.

there was a part of you that wanted to speak up and comfort him, but ultimately you decided against it. you didn’t quite know enough about him to be able to speak to his situation.

after a few minutes, stan seemed to be calming down. his breathing became even, although he was still clinging onto you tightly.

“i …”

his voice was cracked and raspy.

“i … screwed up. i don’t … know how i’m gonna fix it.”

your brow furrowed as you listened to him.

“y’know, stan … i don’t know what you’re going through. but can you do me one favor?”

“... yeah?”

“look at me.”

slowly, the brunet lifted his head, pulling himself back just enough to be able to look at you. his eyes were red and puffy, but his gaze was sincere.

you looked back at him, determined. “i’m gonna help you out.”

stan didn’t know how to react. he swallowed a lump in his throat, scanning your face as if to check whether you were lying to him or not.

“... you don’t … hafta do that. i brought it on myself—”

“i don’t care.”

his eyes widened.

“if i can keep somebody from a worse fate, then i’ll do it. let me give you a place to stay, even if it’s just for a little while.” you smiled warmly, squeezing his arm for emphasis. “you shouldn’t have to feel like your life means nothing.”

“… you’re an angel.”

those words made you blush. “i–i wouldn’t say that—”

uh-oh, he’s smirking now. chuckling lowly, he let go of you so that he could cross his arms over his chest.

“what, are you tryna tell me you’re not sent from heaven? think about it. you’re saving my biscuits here, toots.” there was serious gratitude in his tone, despite his teasing. at least he seemed to be in a better mood. “i think i’ll hafta call you that more often, yeah? angel.”

you laughed nervously, trying desperately to distract yourself from your red hot face. “really? h–how interesting …”

stan snickered again, gazing at you for a moment longer with fondness dancing in his brown eyes. then, glancing at the wall clock, he realized the time. “damn, it’s midnight. i should probably stop bothering you ‘nd get to bed, huh?”

“huh, it is late … i should sleep, too.”

“then it’s decided. i’ll see ya tomorrow.” he hummed, standing from his seat and stretching out his arms before cracking a soft smile and turning around to walk towards his room.

you were left to watch him leave, your eyes following his footsteps as he made his way back up the staircase.

approximately eight hours later, you awoke to the sunlight gently filtering through your bedside window, causing your eyelids to flutter open.

the events of last night came flooding back into your mind.

i guess i’ll be seeing a whole lot more of him …

sitting up in bed, you yawned, rubbing your face sleepily.

“mm … what time is it …”

the alarm clock on your nightstand read 8:02 am.

shoot, i overslept—oh, wait. it’s my day off.

that little fact was enough to put you in a good mood for the morning. humming happily to yourself, you began to get ready for the day, picking out a comfortable outfit and a few accessories.

descending two flights of stairs, you wandered into the lobby of your inn, greeting a few different patrons and employees with a cheerful wave. it was breakfast rush hour for the kitchen, and you could catch glimpses of your executive chef running to and fro behind the bar.

he seems pretty busy today. maybe i’ll grab a bite to eat somewhere? hmm, but the question is where …

just then, your train of thought was interrupted by the sound of someone calling out your name.

you whipped around to locate the voice’s source, and there was stan, walking towards you at a leisurely pace. a radiant grin broke out on your face.

“stan! hey, good morning! how’d you sleep?”

raising a brow, he chuckled at your energy. “well, good morning, sunshine. i slept like a baby, thanks t’ you.”

“ah, don’t mention it.” you smiled, placing your hands on your hips. “i’m just glad you could sleep.”

the two of you looked at each other for a second.

why did his stare make you feel butterflies in your chest?

probably unimportant ………… right? yeah.

clearing your throat, you averted your gaze before you started to blush again. “so, um … have you had anything to eat yet?”

“nah. i was just about to, though.” to be frank, he had totally forgotten that he had access to breakfast until you just mentioned it.

“sounds goo–”

you paused mid-sentence, remembering something.

“actually … i was planning on eating out for breakfast today. would you wanna join me? since the kitchen is bustling and all …”

oh, wow. did you really just ask him out to breakfast? it didn’t hit you until after you had said it out loud that it could be considered that way. oops. was that weird? were you weird? augh.

stan had half a mind to tease you senseless for how cute that was, but after thinking about it, he decided against it. he wouldn’t wanna ruin his chances at having breakfast with you.

“you kiddin’? i’d love that.” he nodded his head, flattered and amused. “not many people can say they’ve had breakfast with an angel, ya know.”

your ears turned red.

i walked right into that one. darn you and your smooth talking …

“oh, let’s just go already.” embarrassed, you grabbed his wrist, pulling him along towards the front door. stan laughed heartily, allowing himself to be led.

it wasn’t long before you arrived at one of your favorite diners in town, known for their homey atmosphere and good breakfast. walking into the building, you were met with the smell of eggs, bacon, and coffee. the two of you breathed it in simultaneously, sighing.

“reminds me of breakfast as a kid.” stanley mused, thinking of the days when he and ford would poke at each other’s food and giggle. you smiled, watching his expression.

“c’mon, this way.” you beckoned him over towards the table you usually sat at, and a familiar waitress walked over to you as you settled in.

“good morning, loyal patron~ i see you’ve brought a plus one today, yes?”

“uh—yes. don’t go jumping to conclusions, though …”

the waitress grinned innocently. “of course. now, what can i get for you two?”

stan wound up ordering pancakes with bacon and eggs, while you settled on some waffles and a mug of coffee. you could have sworn you saw that waitress giggling to her coworker about something as she went on her way, but you shook your head to yourself in an attempt to ignore it. instead, you directed your attention towards the man sitting across from you.

“so, i’m guessin’ you’re a regular here?” he tilted his head, leaning back against his seat. there was a smirk plastered onto his face that you couldn’t quite decipher.

“you would guess correctly.” you hummed, picking up the salt shaker on the table and fidgeting with it absentmindedly. “have you ever been?”

a rumbling sigh escaped his lips.

“nah … i’m not exactly from around here.”

your gaze was trained on him. so far, he’s kept a laid-back demeanor, not to mention that little smirk that drives you insane—but you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was way more depth to his character than he let on.

“yeah? where’re you from?”

“...”

there was a brief silence. his chocolate brown eyes, warmly lit by the sun, stared into your soul.

“i’m from new jersey.”

your eyebrows shot up. “from jersey? wow … you’re far from home, then.”

“it’s not home anymore.”

you opened your mouth to say something, but closed it again. stan was staring out the window, a frown creasing his face.

“i … sorry. sensitive topic?”

he turned back to you, a faint blush appearing on his face. “uh … well, yeah, i guess … it’s okay.”

“come again?”

“... it’s, uh—i–i’m okay, if it’s you.”

he was a darker shade of red now, scratching awkwardly at his stubble. he felt so … vulnerable. but somehow, he was okay with it.

at that moment, the waitress came back with plates of food. “order up!”

you watched as you were served, salivating as you saw golden waffles covered in butter and syrup smiling up at you. it didn’t take long for the both of you to start digging in.

“... wow.” after the first few bites, stan had stars in his eyes. “it tastes just like ma’s.”

“was your mom a good cook?”

he snorted. “well, she wasn’t exactly a michelin star chef, but she could make some damn good flapjacks. at least, i sure thought so.” putting another forkful of pancake into his mouth, he chewed thoughtfully. you simply propped your head on one hand, watching.

“i always told her she could sell ‘em for a fortune.”

his tone was soft with nostalgia.

“she just laughed. prob’ly cause i was five when i told her that.”

“they must’ve been really something, huh?”

“they were. all my life, i dreamt of selling somethin’ as good as that. i haven’t stopped trying, either.”

he scoffed.

“most of ‘em have been a bust.”

you hummed softly in understanding.

“you’re still trying, though. that’s worth more than any failed effort.”

he looked up from his plate. “... you think so?”

“sure i do.” lifting your mug, you took a sip of coffee. “perseverance is worth a lot.”

stan could barely handle your uplifting words. his heart was squeezing in his chest. covering his flustered face with one hand, he leaned against the table, grumbling.

“... an angel … God sent an angel.”

“what?”

“what? nothing.”

a few hours later, you were walking side by side back to the inn. stan couldn’t help but admire the way the fall breeze tousled your hair, and the gentle smile on his face was speaking his thoughts out loud.

he’d never known that somebody this beautiful could even exist.

maybe ...

maybe he hasn’t hit rock bottom quite yet.

end

[ part three ]

author's note:

thank you for all the love on this fic !!! :D

i gotta keep cooking.

if you have any fic or headcanon requests, hit up my askbox! <3

tag list: @icouldntthinkofanythingclever @seahorrorz @blustalker @hay-needle @phanmai1002

[eclipsturns]

⎯⎯⎯⎯ cherry waves . . .

01 | 02

the bar’s a murky haze full of smoke twisting under dim bulbs, the tang of spilled liquor soaking the air.

matt’s fresh off the stage, guitar still dangling from his shoulder, deftones tee plastered to his chest with sweat, his dark hair a chaotic spill over those icy blue eyes. y/n’s stuck at her table, soda can slick against her palm, her pulse a frantic thud after his acoustic cherry waves carved itself into her nerves while eli’s griping about “that jerk’s attitude,” and the sight of sophia’s stifling a grin, but y/n’s locked on matt ans his lean frame propped against the bar, exuding a quiet, dangerous pull that’s got her blood racing.

he’s grabbing a beer, bottle clinking sharp on the counter, but his gaze keeps drifting—catching her staring, holding it just long enough to make her squirm.

sophia jabs her side, voice sly, “he’s stripping you with those eyes. go, before eli does something stupid,” and eli huffs, “i’d flatten him,” but y/n’s already moving, legs unsteady, her black skirt brushing her thighs as she crosses the floor, drawn to him like gravity’s gone rogue.

she stops inches away, close enough to catch the leather-and-smoke scent rolling off him, and matt turns slow, a smirk curling his lips.

“what, your little squad bailed on ya?” he drawls, voice thick with mockery, sipping his beer, eyes tracing her from her worn sneakers to the flush climbing her neck. “thought you’d be too chickenshit to face me after droolin’ up there.”

“thought you’d be too busy glaring at nothing to care,” she shoots back, chin high, arms crossed over her thin tank top, her quick breaths giving her away.

he lets out a short, cutting chuckle, stepping in until his boots graze hers, heat pouring off him like a live wire. “i see plenty, you were twitchin’ during cherry waves, weren’t ya? got y’all worked up.”

her face ignites, shame and want tangling because she knows he’s right: those lyrics, that voice, had her thighs clenching, her body buzzing with a reckless ache she can’t dodge. “you think you’re so big because you can play a few chords?” she snaps, but it’s thin, her voice wavering as he leans closer, his breath—beer and a whisper of mint—brushing her lips.

“don’t think—know. you came to me, didn’t ya?” he murmurs, voice sinking low, eyes flicking to her mouth like he’s already claimed it. “bet you’ve been starvin’ for someone t’see ya, and your pals don’t count.”

it’s a sharp dig, laced with heat, and she shoves him with her palms flat on his chest, but he doesn’t flinch, just grabs her wrist, pulling her tight against him, the bar dissolving into static.

“let go, or you’re just gonna flex like some badass?” she hisses, but her other hand’s at his hip, fingers snagging his belt loop, and matt’s smirk turns feral, blue eyes flaring.

“you like me mean, admit it,” he growls, releasing her wrist to trail his hand up her arm, thumb grazing her tank strap, sending a spark straight to her gut. “say you didn’t feel that song, say it didn’t drench ya.”

she stumbles, breath hitching, because he’s nailed it: she’s soaked, aching, and there’s no hiding the fire roaring through her, the way her body presses into his despite her scowl.

“y’so damn full of it,” she whispers, voice fraying, and he grins—dark, wicked—lips brushing her ear. “y’gonna love it when i show ya... ready?”

and that’s her limit, her wild hormones blazing while she grabs his collar, hauling him down the back hall, past the flickering bathroom sign, into a shadowed corner where the bass pulses through the bricks. he’s on her fast, pinning her to the wall, mouth slamming into hers, a fierce clash of teeth and need, wet and urgent.

“fuck, you taste like sin,” he groans, hands diving under her tank, cupping her tits, thumbs teasing her nipples until she gasps, arching into him with a desperate sound.

“you talk too damn much,” she pants, biting his lip sharply, tasting iron and earning a hiss from him, grinning, hips grinding into hers, his hard-on hitting right where she’s throbbing.

“you love it, i bet you’re soaked through,” he mutters, voice all grit and taunt, one hand slipping under her skirt, fingertips brushing her drenched thong, a smug, “fuck, i knew it.”

“matt... holy shit, move,” she gasps, tugging his hair, pulling his mouth back as he slides two fingers inside, curling them deep, pumping fast, making her knees buckle, a loud moan tearing free, wild and unfiltered.

“you’re so fuckin’ starved... been waitin’ f’this, huh?” he growls, sucking a mark onto her neck, fingers working her hard, the wet sound lewd in the tight space, her body quaking, teetering on the edge.

but then it cuts. “matt, dude, let’s roll!” a voice barks gruffly, urgent even, and matt stiffens, head snapping toward the hall; it’s Nate, his bassist, looming there, all buzzed hair and impatience, scowling.

“fuck, right now?” matt snaps, voice rough, fingers still buried in her, and nate snorts, “yeah, now—van’s leavin’, move it.”

matt curses, yanking his hand free, her slick glistening on his fingers as she gasps, thighs trembling, left dangling on the brink. he steps back, smirking dark and slow, lifting those fingers to his mouth, licking them clean, deliberate, eyes locked on hers as he savors it, a low, “fuck, babe, y’taste better than i thought,” rolling off his tongue. “catch ya never, loser,” he mutters, voice dripping with finality, turning sharp and stalking off with his bandmates, leaving her slumped against the wall—breathless, skirt hiked, tank skewed, the ghost of his taste lingering, her body a live wire of unspent heat.

© eclipsturns 's all rights deserved !ㅤ ꕀ ⠀⠀𔘓⠀⠀⠀

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[drewizz]

THIRD TIME - 02. peripheral

pairing ꕀ rafe cameron x reader

WARNINGS. none. (except that the yearning starts..)

WC. 1.2K

TAGLIST. open! comment or send in an ask

series masterlist. previous next

peripheral. (adj) related to the key issue but not of central importance

The soft chime of the coffee shop door was as familiar to you every morning, likewise your bitter espresso you ordered. It wasn’t just a part of your routine – it was your peaceful oasis. It was your moment of solitude and silence before the day demanded too much from you. With a content smile and a sigh, you stepped in the shop.

The comforting, aromatic smell of roasted coffee beans and fresh pastries wrapped around you, quite a stark contrast to the beachy smell right outside the other side of the door. It was early enough that only a handful of customers lingered, their quiet murmurs of all different conversations blending with the low hiss of the espresso machine and orders being yelled out.

You had already ordered your usual, picking it up from the counter. But then a sharp laugh cut through the hum of the coffee shop.

It was him.

Rafe Cameron.

Of all the places and all the mornings, he had to be here. Leaning casually against the counter, his phone in one hand, looking all effortlessly polished and annoyingly at ease.

Your first instinct was to leave. No coffee was worth this. But then you caught yourself. Why should you let him ruin your morning? This was your place, your time.

You turned your attention back to the pickup counter, as if you were searching for your order. (There was only one drink on the counter.) Maybe, if you stayed quiet and kept your head down, he wouldn’t notice you.

But it’s Rafe, and Rafe always notices.

“Well,” his voice carried across the shop, loud enough to attract a few people’s attention. His smirk followed shortly after, all sharp and cocky. “We meet again. Didn’t expect to see you here.”

You ignored him, busily shoving napkins inside your bag.

“Not even a hello?” he teased, stepping closer.

Your jaw tightened, but you didn’t look at him. “I didn’t realize we were on ‘hello’ terms.”

He let out a soft chuckle, more amused than offended. “Fair enough. But you’re not very good at pretending I’m not here, you know.”

You turned then, fixing him with a glare. “What do you want?”

He leaned away from the counter, standing up, tilting his head as if your question genuinely amused him. “What do I want? I guess a conversation. Isn’t that what normal people do?”

You scoffed. “Normal people don’t start conversations by picking fights.”

His grin widened. “I wasn’t picking a fight. Just saying hi.”

“Right,” you said flatly, crossing your arms. “Because you’re so friendly.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying you. “You’ve got a lot of fire for someone who barely knows me.”

“And you’ve got a lot of nerve for someone who barely knows me,” you countered back.

Rafe laughed again, the sound surprisingly genuine, though it did nothing to soften the edge of his presence. “I think I know enough.”

“Oh, really?” You challenged, raising an eyebrow. “Enlighten me.”

He stepped closer, closing the distance between them just enough to make your pulse quicken. “You’re stubborn,” he said, his tone low but teasing. “Quick to snap. And you're getting haughty for no reason.”

Your eyes narrowed. “And you’re arrogant, condescending, and way too full of yourself.”

He held your gaze, his smirk never wavering. “You’re not wrong.”

The audacity of his admission left you momentarily speechless.

“You don’t make conversation. You make trouble,” you muttered, carefully picking up your coffee.

“Trouble?” he repeated, mock-offended. “That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?”

“Not really,” you said flatly.

He laughed again, a low sound that grated on your nerves and sent an unexpected flutter through your chest. “So, is this you're way of proving that you’ve got me all figured out already, huh?”

“I don’t need to,” you replied, your voice sharp. “You make it easy.”

For a moment, his smirk faltered, just a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. Then it was gone, replaced by his usual smug expression. “And here I thought you were full of surprises.”

With a roll of your eyes, you were heading straight for the door. However, you didn’t get too far.

“Hey, wait,” Rafe said, his voice stopping you in your tracks.

You turned halfway, one hand on the door, your patience wearing thin. “What now?”

His expression was oddly casual. “What’s your name?”

“You don’t know my name?” Your eyebrows shot up. Huh. You never realized that your name was never mentioned between each other.

“Not yet,” he admitted, the hint of a grin tugging at his lips. “But I figured I’d ask.”

Your pulse quickened – whether from irritation or something else, you couldn’t tell. “Why do you care?”

“Curiosity,” Rafe said simply, his gaze steady.

“Curiosity kills the cat,” you replied, your tone clipped.

His grin widened, and he leaned in closer, slightly dropping his voice. “Good thing I’m not a cat.”

You stared at him, torn between annoyance and the undeniable attraction of his presence. There was something irritatingly pleasant about the way he looked at you, like he was slowly peeling your layers as if you were an orange, trying to reveal a secret deep inside you.

“You don’t need to know my name,” you said finally, forcing your voice to stay steady.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want you to.”

He blinked, clearly not expecting that answer. For a moment, the cocky grin slipped, replaced by something almost close to genuinity. “Fair enough,” he said quietly, surprising you.

But the moment passed quickly. His smirk returned, all sharp and confident. “But you know this isn’t the last time we’ll see each other, right?”

Your fingers tightened around your coffee cup. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

“Neither,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “Just the truth.”

Your stomach twisted in a way you didn’t want to acknowledge. Teeth gritting, you answered. “If you’re done wasting my time, I’ve got places to be.”

He didn’t move, didn’t even flinch. “Hm. See you around then, mystery girl,” he replied with another cheeky smirk – the words somehow seeming to be more promising than needed.

You turned without another word, pushing the door open and stepping into the crisp morning air.

The street outside felt cooler than earlier, a sharp contrast to the heat that Rafe’s presence always seemed to stir. You walked briskly, your coffee in hand, trying to shake the strange sensation away.

But as you walked down the street, his words stayed with you, echoing in your mind.

This isn’t the last time we’ll see each other.

It wasn’t a promise. It wasn’t a threat. It was just a fact.

And the worst part? You weren't entirely sure you hated the idea.

Back at the shop, Rafe watched you leave, the door swinging shut behind you with a faint chime. He turned back to the counter, his drink now ready, but he didn’t care about that for now.

He didn’t know why he was so intrigued. You didn’t seem like the other girls he usually spent time with – those who laughed too easily at his jokes and stuck around despite knowing better. Or the ones who listened too easily to what he asked them to do.

You were different.

Maybe it was the fire in your eyes or the way you never backed down even when he pushed. Or maybe it was something else entirely, something he couldn’t quite put into words.

Whatever it was, he knew one thing: this wasn’t going to be the last time he’d see you. All for some reasons he couldn’t quite explain, he didn’t want it to be. 

And he liked it.

NOTES. second day and chapter teww!!!! ngl i was not expecting much interactions but i am already sososo thankful for all the love it's been getting!! very very excited to share the constant yearning and tension (unresolved...??) between rafe and reader.. stay tuuuned

TAGS. @urbrunettebombshell @rafesfavouritegirl

[consume-cs]

valentina (02) ◯○ more than a midnight snack

deep down, when i face it all i want is you | japanese | 🌒 enhypen content | materialist

english isn't my first language. nishimura riki. non idol — both craving for a sweet treat at midnight ﷼

"𝙰𝚁𝙴 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚂𝚄𝚁𝙴? Can we do it?" You take a seat in bed while your boyfriend cross his arms behind his head, staring at you with a subtle smile as you look adorable to him.

“I don’t see any problem with it if we are quiet” He tells and you think about it until you say yes.

Once you’re out of his room, he holds your hand guiding you through his old house. Last night, you landed in Japan by yourself to visit his parents and you haven’t been there that often but the visits are getting more frequent, however, you still not used to exploring the house where he grew up.

It’s late at night and you couldn’t sleep because you’re craving something sweet to eat, and your boyfriend noticed you weren’t sleeping and that’s how you two ended up in the kitchen.

He turned on the lights and you cover your face due to clarity, following your boyfriend from behind as you still hold his hand. Niki opens the refrigerator and he takes out a small container with chocolate chips cookies.

“I knew this would happen so I bought it for you” He says casually with his deep voice, making you melt because you didn’t realize how much he knows you.

His cold hands find your waist and he pulls you up onto the kitchen counter. He makes sure to open the container with cookies for you and give you one as he takes one for him as well.

The silence is dancing around each other and you’re too concentrated looking around that you don’t notice him looking at you until you feel his hand in your hair, placing a piece of it behind your ear.

“Don’t you feel tired?” He asks quietly. He can see your tiredness in your face due to the jet lag but he wants to hear you.

“A little, but I’m happy to be here” You respond with a cute smile.

He’s still touching your hair, looking at you with his lovely eyes and you do it as well, feeling overwhelmed by all the love he’s expressing through a simple glance. This is when his playful side is hidden and this side of him comes out, which you don’t see often.

You continue to stare at each other for what seems like hours, but the time with him seems to be eternal and unforgettable. And suddenly, you feel his lips on yours, kissing you so gentle and warm.

Your cheeks turn red and you look away, being all shy by his deep look.

“Did you like traveling by yourself? I guess not because you can’t live without me” He asks with a smile, teasing you a little bit as he looks for your attention, wanting you to look at him again.

You take a bite of the cookie, without answering his question on purpose.

“I guess I’m right” And he’s right because you felt so lonely and lost without him by your side.

He kiss your forehead and pulls you closer to him, hugging your waist and you wrap your legs around his waist.

“We must go back to my room, it’s getting colder here” He says and he puts his hands on your thighs, carrying you in his arms about to leave the kitchen.

“Wait, let me grab another one” Niki goes back to the kitchen counter and let you take another cookie.

You two go back to his room and finally catch sleep until the next morning.

xoxo girl💋…

© consume_cs

[4zahara]

02 | Let's Stay Home

←Previous. Masterlist. Next→

Word Count: +4k

A/N: English is not my first language. Please be patient with the grammar. I really tried to finish this chapter earlier. I had it written halfway but things happened and it arrived a week early! I think... my sense of time has left me and this ship.

His sister was weird.

Jason had no idea what, exactly, to pinpoint—other than her general demeanor made him reach the conclusion. It wasn’t just your eyes, which always seemed to search for a face on his head, or hair which looked like it had survived electrocution. Maybe it was your personality.

Whatever had been bothering him seemed to settle the longer he sat on the floor, however, processing his new situation.

He wasn't comfortable. He shifted onto the couch when (Name) returned with towels—actually clean ones. Jason placed a folded one on the cushions under him and sat down again, another draped over his shoulders to warm him up—you looked genuinely worried about him getting sick and needing a hospital visit neither of you could afford—the third was involuntarily forced over his head for good measure. He might as well cross "Halloween costume" off his to-do list. He'd be Casper the Friendly Ghost this year.

Although, he wiped the metallic taste of either blood or hunger with the back of his sleeve to speak again, a yawn won its way out. Swallowing saliva could only do so much for him the longer the night got.

"I have—" a voice called from the kitchen, about five feet from where he sat. "Pizza? There are some leftovers too, but I doubt you'll want that."

Jason's drifting attention focus for once and he perked up immediately.

"You have pizza?" he asked—not exactly excited.

Unlike most kids, Jason didn’t get excited at the mere thought of bread with things on top. Even if beloved for many the dish had long since lost its appeal to him. When had a large pizza not been cheaper than a bag of vegetables around here? Too much of anything was unhealthy—not that he really thought about that. He had eaten enough in a single week to make him want to avoid cheese altogether. Eating healthy was expensive. It didn’t take a genius to figure that out.

"What are the leftovers?" he asked, forcing a strained smile through gritted teeth.

"I'll heat it up for you. It's just rice, chicken, corn—basically a salad."

Jason quickly stood on shaky legs, his eyes never leaving the silhouette of you. Obviously there was lack of trust. Maybe—and just maybe—you reminded him too much of Catherine too.

Weirdly enough, the thought eased his sore chest. Something about seeing you, Jason didn’t want to think too hard about.

He missed his mom.

You looked like her.

Without another word from you, he trailed into the kitchen, dismissing the ache spreading everywhere.

"So... you came because of Mom? What happened?" You hesitated. "Did she and Dad got into another fight? Is that why he's arrested?"

A complicated look crossed his eyes just as he forced the noncommittal response.

"No, it wasn't like that. Willis went away for something else... Mom is—she's not taking it well and... needs you," he leaned against the counter, facing away but still watching you.

Ever since hearing you describe Catherine as unfit to be left alone—even if she not alone with Willis anymore but by herself—Jason’s worry skyrocketed. He kept telling himself she’d be fine without him for one night...

Now keeping his jaw clenched at the thought.

Willis could shove a rusty pipe up his ass.

As the stove flickered to life, heating up the so-called "salad", it was safe to say, a microwave-sized box was too big to hide and too heavy to run with, when you had none.

His sister glanced at him briefly then back to the stove—an action you repeated often. It was obvious you had questions enough for Jason to notice.

Even admitting it would be wishful thinking; to assume it was for his sake you were keeping all of them in.

His gaze flickered around the room to nothing in particular, as if wasn't even made aware of how restless his mind had become—grasping for anything to distract him.

Old bruises and burns on his skin layered with the fresh ones from getting mugged, started to ache. Random memories surfaced, each more unwelcome than the last. And then, the worst thought of all—what else was happening back home?

Dad was gone. But when he realized Jason had up and left, he would’ve been furious.

He’d probably have taken it out on Catherine.

Jason took a shaky breath, trying to suppress the anxiety clawing its way up his throat. He looked at the ceiling, at the stains there, forcing himself to focus. Trying to calm down.

Everything around him seemed to halt—until you placed a plate in front of him. Only then did Jason snap back to himself.

It took him a moment to pull out of his thoughts, and when he did, his eyes widened slightly. He stared down at the plate—rice, chicken, and whatever else you'd thrown in.

You didn’t have anything for yourself, but he caught you eyeing the pizza slices in the fridge.

“…Thanks,” he muttered before shoving a bite into his mouth. It wasn’t poisoned. And, surprisingly, it was good. Then again, maybe that was just the hunger talking.

It took him barely thirty seconds to finish half the plate. He wanted more—needed more—but forced himself to slow down. His body wouldn’t handle too much too soon.

You watched for a moment.

You handed him a glass of water.

Jason glanced at it, then back at you, silently studying your expression, trying to figure you out.

You were… kind. You’d taken him in, given him food—at the very least, you pitied him.

God knows why.

No.

Jason knew why. He knew exactly what he looked like. But he figured you had no business judging him, considering your own appearance.

Not that he was one to judge, either.

He reached out and gently grabbed the glass, taking a sip and letting the cool liquid soothe his dry throat. He would’ve thanked her, but he didn’t.

“What’s with the name on that mug?”

He asked, glancing beside her at a Christmas-themed cup with a name that definitely wasn’t yours.

"Ah. Dunno... I guess it’s the lady who’s supposed to be living here?"

"Someone lives with you?"

"If someone taller than you asks, then yes. Auntie—" She squinted, holding up the mug to read the name. "Gloria... Huh."

Yup. Definitely weird.

Jason knew it wasn’t true the second the name passed her lips because Catherine never mentioned a sister or an aunt. But Willis? That was a different story…

Jason blinked on edge again.

“Auntie Gloria?” he repeats, his eyebrows furrowed together as he tries to think of how to face a possible adult. The idea of an older relative living with you and him not noticing until now was confusing enough on its own, but the name was unfamiliar.

“Wait… she’s related to us?” Carefully adding himself to the mix, but for the sake of his mental health, he indulged for the first of many times to come in not asking about it again when you looked even slightly conflicted.

Ignorance was a blessing and you were underage, so it'll make sense you'll lie to adults about an imaginary aunt.

Jason couldn't risk slipping. You'd be everything he'd had to rely on when he manages to convince you to come with him back home to help with mom.

No doubt that he'll drag you home if he had to.

He had no choice.

He needed your help with Mom and he hated it. Hated how the air felt heavier the longer he stood there. Hated that his sister had chosen *this* place over home.

But mostly, he hated the gnawing fear in his chest—the one that had only grown stronger ever since he walked through that door.

"You need to come back," he said, voice tighter than he meant it to be. He’d practiced what he was going to say on the way here, but now it was all unraveling like the blocks he walked talking to himself under the rain meant nothing. "Mom’s sick, and I—I can’t do this alone, (Name)."

It was a rare admission for him.

You took a seat in front of him and his half eaten plate. Cross-legged under the table but changing your posture as if never truly settled. Probably why you didn’t look up right away. The dim light made your already hard to read face, harder than it was, casting sharp angles where softness used to be.

You exhaled through your nose. "Jason—"

"Please," he cut in, wanting to stand up, heart hammering against his ribs made his legs disobey. "I need you. She needs you."

Something flickered across your face then, quick and uncertain that made you chew on your bottom lip and your fingers tangle absentmindedly, and for a second—a brief, agonizing second—Jason thought you might refuse outright.

He readied himself and picked a counter argument of which he had a lot.

Instead, you sighed.

"Tomorrow," you said. "It’s dark. And it’s raining."

His breath caught. "So… you’ll come back?"

You hesitated. Just for a moment.

Then you nodded. "Tomorrow."

Relief crashed into him like a wave, but it didn’t settle right. There was something about the way you said it—vague, distant, reluctant.

Telling him what he wanted to hear. Just to soothe him.

Jason swallowed hard, pushing that thought down. Tomorrow. You said tomorrow. He'll only calm down once you are at home, but this was enough for now.

Even if something about the way you sat in that dit felt like you were slipping through his fingers.

══════════════ • ✧ • ══════════════

The rain hadn’t let up. If anything, it was getting worse—pounding against the windows, turning the city outside into a smear of dim streetlights and endless shadows.

Jason had refused the bed you so kindly offered him in favor of dozing off curled up awkwardly in the couch, exhaustion pulling him under despite the unease still crawling under his skin.

You sat by the window, knees drawn to your chest, eyes distant, not going to bed yourself because you'll feel guilty for sleeping comfortably while your baby brother struggled to sleep on the couch with a humid towel as a blanket.

And just maybe he thought you were weird for that.

The silence stretched, thick and heavy, until his voice—low from disuse but child-like pitched—broke through it.

"Is it bad to miss someone you can’t even remember?"

For a moment, you didn’t move.

Didn’t even breathe.

Then, slowly, you turned your head.

The words settled deep into your bones, curling around old wounds, reopening stitches sewed with dental floss you have been holding shut with both hands around the stretch marks simulating fingers.

It was not the time for an analogy but your unaware grip tightened slightly against the fabric of your sleeves.

"I missed you," words pushed through softly.

The rain kept falling.

No memory could fill the gap—it had been too long ago, and he had been too young. All he could do was piece together imagined scenarios, trying to soothe himself, only to shudder at the thought of them.

Maybe wanting a real family had been too much to ask for.

A home without a deadbeat dad. A mother who wasn’t drowning in addiction. A sister who never would have left him—never would have left him like you did. And maybe even a family dog.

But that wasn’t the life he got.

And you? You failed.

A bad sister to Jason. A bad daughter to Catherine. You left them with your father, and that truth weighed on you like an unshakable burden. The one absolute you carried on your shoulders.

You felt cold as the monster of your own making clawed at your ribcage from the inside, desperate to break free.

But the real problem—the one you couldn’t afford to face—was how much you missed home.

You couldn't do that to yourself. You couldn't want what you ran from.

Because nothing was more dangerous than the illusion of a family that never really existed.

Jason paused at your words, glancing up.

Normally, your carefree nature would have prompted some teasing remark about staring. But now, the silence stretched between you, heavy and unbroken.

Something he had to say without letting himself stutter.

"You missed… me?"

Almost wanting to brush it off as an empty platitude, something said out of obligation. But deep down, in the twisting knot of his gut, Jason knew you meant every single word. The weight of it had been steeping in years of regret and unspoken sorrow.

And then there was the very idea of you missing him—which was both baffling and, to his surprise, oddly comforting.

"A little weird, out of the blue. I know," you admitted, backpedaling. "I just don’t get why you hardly remember me… I wasn’t gone that long."

Yet weird was putting it lightly.

Jason swallowed hard, his heart clenching painfully under the weight of emotions he couldn’t fully name.

He wanted to remember. God, he wanted to remember you—everything about you. Whatever moments you’d shared, whatever time you'd had together before it all went to hell. He reached for those memories, clawed for them, but nothing surfaced. Nothing real.

His breath wavered as he forced himself to stay steady.

"I… I wish I did. Dammit." His voice was quiet, edged with frustration.

"It 's okay. I'll remember. It’s not enough, but it’s what we get."

Jason nodded slightly, but something about that statement stuck with him.

He couldn’t remember you. And he probably never would.

Other people got their warm family moments, their second chances. But not them.

He took another shaky breath, fighting the lump in his throat, while you turned away, staring blankly out the window.

"It sucks," he murmured, avoiding your gaze. There were no portraits on the walls, just a scattering of trinkets everywhere.

"Like Dad used to say—‘Life’s a bitch, and then you die.’"

Jason scoffed. Of course that was something Dad would say.

"Don’t do that, though..."

He looked up, meeting your tired expression as you side-eyed him.

“Don’t die…?” he echoed, lacing his words with sarcasm. “Yeah, okay… I’ll get right on that.”

"Good boy." You offered a thumbs-up.

Jason snorted in disbelief, rolling his eyes as he crossed his arms.

Still… he appreciated it. Keeping himself alive had been hard, but something about the praise made his chest feel a little warmer. Not that he was about to acknowledge it.

"You talk like some old lady," he teased.

"You eat like a dog."

Jason gasped, feigning offense. "I do not eat like a dog," he argued, his voice dripping with exaggerated indignation. "I eat like a growing boy who’s going through puberty and also hadn’t eaten in days and was basically starving, thank you very much."

"What puberty could you possibly be going through? You're eight."

Jason huffed, rolling his eyes before responding, utterly insulted. "I’m turning eleven next month. Which means I’m almost twelve. And then thirteen."

He sounded genuinely offended.

"And I’ve already started growing," he added, even though it was painfully obvious he hadn’t—still a four-foot ball of snark.

"Oh? Growing roots or…?"

Jason groaned, pouting in annoyance. He clearly hated the teasing.

"I've grown, I’ll have you know," he insisted, trying his best to sound confident. "I can cook now and—and I found my way here alone, too."

"I can tell you did," you said, watching him carefully. "Can’t imagine what that must’ve been like."

It was subtle. A small probe, a quiet way of fishing for details.

Maybe Catherine had known you were here.

The smirk faltered—but Jason covered it with a scoff. Mouth opened to ask how you ended up here. But then he hesitated, remembering the promise you’d made him make earlier. He didn’t want to risk breaking it.

Still, it tugged at him.

He thought about asking anyway. But it could hurt.

“…Why here, anyway?” His voice held a tinge of curiosity. “Do you really live here alone?”

"You met the neighbor," you replied, lips curling into a squinting little smile.

Glasses. That had to be it. You probably needed glasses—that’s why your eyes looked so weird.

Focusing on that theory was a hundred times better than thinking about the kind of people who might live here. The kind that had you so scared before.

Because he’d already decided—he was going to believe you weren’t scary.

His gaze flickered around the abandoned building again. Yeah… still not convinced.

It was subtle, but Jason had a habit of checking his surroundings. Always. And you noticed.

“How bad is your vision?” he asked bluntly.

"My vision?" You raised an eyebrow. "I can see you just fine."

Jason rolled his eyes, smirking. "I’m not saying you’re completely blind. I’m asking if you need glasses."

He didn’t add that the squinting seemed suspicious. Instead, he flashed you an innocent smile before adding,

“You look like an owl when you do that, you know that, right?”

"Do what?"

You tilted your head slightly, just like a bird—clearly on purpose, just to mess with him.

Jason couldn't help the small smile tugging at his lips.

"That." He motioned toward your head. "Stop that."

He wasn’t really annoyed, though. He was amused.

Something about the way you focused on him, how you responded to everything he said, how you kept looking at him—not just hearing him but listening…

It made his chest feel warm.

Jason shifted, reluctant to leave the warmth of the couch. Exhaustion clung to him, but something about the quiet moment pulled him up.

With a sluggish motion, he pushed himself upright, the towels draped over his shoulders slipping slightly. Instinctively he grabbed onto them, pulling as they were his armor against the lingering cold. The one on his head slid forward though, nearly covering his eyes, and he huffed. There had to be a reason why he tugged it back into place before letting out a quiet sigh when he could have just thrown them around.

Bare feet padding softly against the floor, made his way to your side. Towels rustling with every step. The warmth they held was fading, but he kept them wrapped around him anyway.

By the window, he didn’t say anything at first—just gave a little jump to sit on the counter with you, close enough that his shoulder nearly brushed yours, staring out at whatever had your attention.

Jason reached out, one hand wrapping around your arm while the other cupped your cheek, gently but firmly keeping your head still.

His eyes narrowed studying you—staring at you—his expression unreadable.

“Do you need glasses or something?” he asked bluntly.

"What?"

"You keep closing one eye like that. You look like an owl." He repeated.

"An owl? Like... hoot hoot?"

Jason scoffed at your lame attempt at an owl impression.

“Owls don’t even make that sound,” he shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm—but the amused smirk tugging at his lips betrayed any real annoyance.

"I tried," you defended with a small shrug. "I’ve never seen an owl in my life."

"Me neither. But I know they don't sound like that,"

With a sigh, Jason finally let go of your face and arm, but not before tapping the top of your head in some vague, brotherly gesture.

“Now answer me. Glasses—yes or no?”

"Probably?" You popped the *p* before hesitating, still smiling but uncertain.

"I can see…" Your eyes narrowed, focusing like it required actual effort. Finally, with newfound, almost forced optimism, you pointed.

"The couch," you declared with newfound optimism from somewhere.

Jason didn’t even bother holding back his expression—half unimpressed, half entertained.

You just couldn’t help it. Something about him was so amusing. If not a little annoying.

“You’re nearly blind, then,” Jason said, his eyes widening like he had just stumbled upon a groundbreaking discovery. Somehow, despite being as blunt as ever, he didn’t sound mean—just genuinely baffled.

“So, the door? You can barely see that behind me? And—and when you stared at me outside, it was because you couldn’t see me?"

“Yeaaaah, sure,” you drawled, dragging out the word. “That’s why I stared at you for so long…”

Jason didn’t catch the sarcasm. If anything, the idea only made him more fascinated, his eyes practically glowing with curiosity.

He turned his head away, trying (and failing) to hide the red creeping up his face behind a cough.

“Wait, wait, wait—you mean to tell me that you were just standing there, squinting at me like that because you couldn’t even tell it was me at the door?”

You didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth, not when he looked at you like that—like a kid uncovering some great mystery.

The truth was, you hadn’t recognized him at first. And then, when you did, you had hesitated for too many seconds, unwilling to acknowledge it.

So instead, you just stained your smile onto your face, squinted at him again, and shrugged.

“A bit.”

You’d rather let him think you were blind than admit to the real reason. And, to be fair, it wasn’t entirely a lie—your vision did blur every so often.

Jason let out a short laugh at your answer, shaking his head.

“A bit, you say? You straight up stared at me, and I thought you were just crazy or something.” He laughed again, but after a second, his expression shifted. His gaze flickered over the way your eyes kept narrowing and refocusing, and a small frown tugged at his lips.

“…You can’t see anything far away at all, can you?”

"Hey!”

Jason raised a brow, crossing his arms as he held up two fingers right in front of your face.

“You can see what… how many fingers am I holding up, then?”

Deciding to humor him, you rolled your eyes before deliberately answering wrong.

“Four.”

“Ha! Nope, wrong.” Jason waved the two fingers closer to your face, smirking as if he’d just won a game. “You really got that wrong? C’mon, try again.”

His grin was practically gleeful as he held up the same two fingers, waiting expectantly.

You squinted dramatically, leaning in like a grandma reading the fine print on a receipt.

“Oh! …Two!”

Jason narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Is that an actual answer or a guess, you blind bat?”

Before you could answer, he held up four fingers this time, wiggling them teasingly.

“How about this number?”

“Okay, okay, enough eye testing for tonight,” you dismissed, waving a hand.

Jason snickered, finally lowering his hand, but the playful spark in his eyes remained.

“But I was just getting to the fun part.”

Then, as his laughter faded, he leaned in slightly. His smirk stayed, but his expression turned more serious.

“Seriously, though. You’re basically blind,” he said, shaking his head. “You gotta get glasses.”

You shrugged, giving a half-smile. “Maybe one day.”

And why wouldn't he catch the way your voice dipped slightly? Or how your fingers twitched against the counter? Obviously something about the way you said it—too casual.

Jason was young, not stupid.

Of course you didn’t have glasses. Of course, you couldn't just get them. Just like how dinner was either pizza or leftovers. Just like how there was no microwave.

His stomach twisted uncomfortably.

“…You can’t get them, can you?” he asked, quieter this time.

You blinked at him, “I could if I wanted to.”

Jason stared.

You sighed, finally breaking on that front.

“No, I can’t.”

Surprising even if it shouldn't have been. And for some reason, it made his chest feel tight. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much—just one more thing neither of you could have. Jason nudged you lightly with his elbow, like he wasn’t about to say what he was about to say.

“…Guess I’ll just have to be your seeing-eye dog or something,” he muttered.

You snorted. “Oh, so now you admit you eat like a dog?”

He groaned, rolling his eyes. “Okay, no! That’s not what I meant.”

But when your expression had softened—not in pity, but in something almost grateful, so did he.

And Jason decided right then that until you could afford glasses, he’d just have to be your extra pair of eyes.

[blackbirdi]

The Roommate Problem

Brief Description: Over all the years you and Jason have been friends, you've never found him to have any flaws, until you two decided to move in together. Jason was the perfect roommate, until he started coming home way louder than was necessary, constantly waking you up throughout random times in the night.

Point of View: 2nd Person

Word Count: 1662

Character: Jason Todd x Reader

Age: Jason - 22, Reader - 21

Being roommates with your best friend was a mostly smart decision.

You knew you could trust Jason to always hand rent in on time, he would get groceries when you mentioned you were running low on something, and whenever something was broken Jason was always ready to try and fix it, or call for help when he couldn't. All-in-all, your best friend, Jason Todd, was a great roommate, a perfect roommate; but you forgot one little thing when you asked him to move in with you: he was a vigilante.

Jason being Red Hood wasn't necessarily a bad thing, you really only found one thing bad about it. But boy, was it a bad thing. That thing was that Jason was out practically all night, coming home at any point in the dead of the night. And he wasn't exactly quiet about it either.

Almost every night you were awoken to Jason's annoyingly loud entering of your shared apartment. You found this particularly annoying because Jason was a vigilante he knew damn well how to be quiet. Sometimes you thought he was loud just to annoy you (which is probably true); at other times you thought it was because he knew he was home and knew he was able to let his guard down (which you found very sweet, but probably wasn’t the case).

And here you were, once again woken at ... 4:02?!

"Are you fucking kidding me, Jason?" you growl, having enough of this bullshit. This was the eighth - eighth - night in a row he had woken you up in the middle of the night.

Getting out of your nice, warm, comfortable bed, you slink out of your room and into yours and Jason's shared living room, finding Red Hood standing next to the window, closing it loudly.

"Morning," you greet dryly, sitting down in an armchair, glaring up at him.

Jason jumps, literally jumps as he hears your voice. His hand goes to his holster, removing a gun and aiming at your face.

You cock an eyebrow in question at the barrel staring you in the eye. You know better than to be afraid of the weapon, Jason would never fire that thing at you.

"Oh," Jason mumbles as he realizes it's just his roommate. He lowers his gun, putting it back into the holster before he removes his helmet, smiling at you softly. "Hey, Y/n, what are you doing up at this hour? Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

"I would be," you grumble, your gaze still a glare as he shows his face to you. "But someone was being extra loud this morning and woke me up."

It's almost impossible to see, but you still catch it: the smirk that briefly pulls on Jason's face before he puts on a face of sympathy.

"Oh, shit, Y/n/n, I'm sorry," Jason apologizes, setting his helmet down on the coffee table before he walks over to you. He sets one of his hands on each armrest, leaning down to be eye level with you.

You can't help the shiver that goes through you as he does this. It's intimidating as hell, but it's Jason, so you find it more attractive than anything else. You internally scold yourself the second that thought crosses your head.

"Are you?" you counter, crossing your arms. You fight the urge to look away, wanting Jason to know just how tired you were of his late night loudness.

"Of course I am," Jason replies earnestly, but you see right through him.

He's fighting back a smirk, a chuckle, anything that would give him away that he's been doing it on purpose. You can see the mirth in his eyes, the way they sparkle with amusement as he looks down at you.

To anyone else, they wouldn't think anything of Jason's attitude; but you've known him much longer than anyone else, you know for a fact that he's not sorry at all.

Your eyes narrow in doubt as he answers, and you voice your doubt to him immediately.

"For some reason, Jason, I have some doubts about that," you snap, your voice clear in showing your irritation.

Jason's eyebrows furrow as his lips form a slight pout, he leans closer to you, trying to look innocently as he asks, "What? Why?"

"Because I know you, Jason," you scowl, trying to fight down the growing blush on your cheeks. "I know when you're lying. And I know damn well that you have been purposely loud just to wake me up!"

"Trying to wake you up?" Jason echos, his lips twitching, as if he wants to smile at your claim. "Why would I do that?"

"I don't know," you huff, glaring up at him. "But I know that you know how to be more quiet than you have been, and I would appreciate it if you remained quiet entering our house. Unlike you, I have places to be during the day."

Finally letting the smile he was trying to suppress rise onto his face, Jason grins down at you, chuckling softly at your request.

"Why would I do that?" Jason questions playfully. "Maybe I want to keep waking you up everytime I get home."

"Why?" you ask, exasperated.

Jason's grin widens as he looks down at you, answering, "Maybe I want you to come and greet me when I get back home, just like I do when you get back from work."

You can't help but roll your eyes at Jason's words, 'Is he serious?'

"I'm not going to greet you very kindly when you're waking me up in the middle of the night," you sneer.

Jason laughs, leaning closer to you as he replies under his breath (but loud enough for you to hear), "I know. But it's nice coming home to someone I feel safe with, someone I know who has my back, someone I care about ... someone I love."

You can't help the red that spreads like a wildfire across your cheeks, the way your heart begins to pound furiously in your chest, or the way your breath catches at the back of your throat. You try to not let Jason notice any of it, but you know it's futile because it's Jason. But that still doesn't stop you from trying.

"Shut up," you grumble, pushing Jason away from you. "You're just saying that to get back in my good graces."

Jason chuckles lowly, your attempt to shove him away not working in the slightest. The only thing your attempt does is make Jason bring himself closer, causing your cheeks to heat up more.

"I am not," he argues softly. "I mean it when I say it, Y/n. I love seeing you; you bring me so much joy, I just have to wake you up so early just so I can see my favourite person ever."

Your heartbeat continues to rise, the tips of your ears beginning to turn red in embarrassment of Jason's words.

"Shut up," you snap, turning your head away from Jason so you don't have to look at him, because you know that your face is just going to turn more red if you do.

Jason chuckles again, his smirk fading into a soft smile as he looks at you look away from him.

"Ah, come on," he teases gently, grabbing your chin to make you face him. "What's got you all flustered, sweetheart?"

It feels as though your brain just shuts off. What is he doing??

"I - shut up," you scowl.

Jason smirks, countering, "Make me."

If it was possible, your face would've been glowing red at this point.

"I-I - uh," you stutter, wanting to look away from him but finding yourself unable to do so because he's got such a firm grip on your jaw.

It takes you another moment to respond (while Jason stands there and smirks at you). When you do respond, you grab his wrist and yank his hand off your jaw. You don't give him a chance to grab your chin again as you get off the armchair by the side (because Jason's standing in front of the chair) and glare up at him.

"I'm not joking when I ask this Jason: stop being so loud when you come home," Y/n snaps.

Jason chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest and staring down at you, clearly amused.

"Alright, alright," he huffs, rolling his eyes playfully. "I'll be quiet from now on."

You look up at him skeptically, narrowing your eyes.

Jason grins when he sees your reaction, taking a step closer to you and cupping your face with his hands.

"Y/n/n, I promise I'll be more quiet when I come home," he promises, kissing the tip of your nose.

Your blush comes back in full force at Jason's gentle affections.

"Okay, okay, I believe you," you relent, wrapping your slender fingers around Jason's wrists and removing them from your face. "I'm going to bed now; goodnight, Jace."

Jason smiles softly, opening him around up as he asks teasingly, "What? No goodnight hug?"

The smile that takes over your scowl can't be helped as you roll your eyes playfully at Jason and step into his arms, wrapping yours around his waist.

Jason squeezes you against his chest tightly, nuzzling his face into your hair, planting a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

You smile against Jason's chest, your ear in the perfect spot on his chest to hear the consistent beat of his heart.

"Night, Y/n/n," he whispers softly, squeezing you one last time before letting you go.

You step away from Jason, smiling up at him one last time before you turn around and head back to your bed. The only thoughts you have while laying in your bed a few minutes later are that maybe if he keeps being loud you won't complain about it, because at least then you know that he got home safe.

[moonchildxoxx]

A Life once wished for a long forgotten memory

A/N: You are responsible for your own media consumption.  MDNI 18+ . the name comes from the idea that Tsu'tey wanted a warriors death so he could join his old love in the after life. but that was no longer a thought in his head because he was happy with his love and baby . also i realized a bit was missing so i added it that why it was edited.

Pairing: Tsu’tey x Fem!Omatikaya! Reader,

Word count: 1.296

Synopsis: tsu'tey survived the war he went on to lead the omatikaya for a decked before the threat of sky people loomed once more. it was decided that he must take a mate to secure the clan's future and ease the people's worries. he never thought he'd be so happy once more

[ Request are open]

Master List

Rules

Edit: 02/29/2023

When the war ended Tsu'tey had thought that was the end of him as well and he was at peace with that idea. But Jake sully refused to accept and do the duty of Olo’eyktan claiming that he would not lose another brother. Once Tsu’tey healed he continued to lead the Omatikaya for a decade before his life changed once more Jake sully had warned the clans that the sky people could very well return. They knew they had 12 years before they returned but if they returned it would be soon. Mo’at had come to Tsu’tey telling him that a time of great sorrow would be upon them soon once more. Once this was discussed with the council it was decided Tsu’tey couldn’t remain unmated the people would feel more assured if the clan had a secured future meaning he’d have to take a mate and have an heir. Mo’at chose (Y/N) who was a young girl, the granddaughter of one of her old friends and also one of her healing students that showed a promising future. She and him had been given a few months to get to know each other and courtship. He never thought he'd find love again, not after what happened with his promised mate.

soon they had become close. She a sweet and gentle girl and he’d later lean she was also one not afraid to put him in his place. Omatikaya had a feast celebrating their Olo’eyktan mating, late into the feast during Tsu’tey lead (Y/N) to the sacred gathering place under the great mother's watch and She swallowed nervously looking around Tsu'teys voice was calm and gentle as he took her hand and walked into the soft glow of the tree "have no fear little one no one will come looking for us until we return to the clan " he said softly stroking her arms gently

"our great mother wants us to be together I promise no harm will come to you as long as I’m here"

~ A few weeks later ~

Tsu'tey returned to their hut after a day of attending to his duties. she was crouching by the fire preparing their evening meal. a smile crossed his face. He crouched next to her she leaned over and kissed him gently

he smiled and returned the kiss then sat down by her by the fire "I have been thinking of something"

" an what would that be ?" She countered back. he sighed looking at her for a moment before speaking "there is something I would like to ask you". “ I'm listening" she hummed

a faint blush appeared on his cheeks as he looked down to his hands for a moment then back to her it was obvious that this was hard for him "I think it’s time we actively tired for a child " She laughed softly

he looked slightly confused by her laughter "I was not joking" he said with a slight frown at her reaction.

She smiled " I may have beat you to this discussion " his eyes widened shocked and then he looked at her stomach "are you saying" he looked excited and slightly nervous "are you indeed with child" She nodded yes " I wanted to make sure before I said anything" he was overcome with joy and excitement he couldn't believe that their child was already inside of her he leaned over and gave her a deep long kiss smiling at her the entire time "we are truly blessed by the great mother I cannot believe this"

~Months later ~

Tsu'tey returned to their hut after being away for the day leading a hunting party she was by the fire weaving a smile crossed his face when he walked in he was exhausted "little one l am home" he said softly when he saw her he walked over to her and leaned down placing many small kisses on her head and and neck "the hunting party was successful"

"That is good to hear" she leaned over and kissed him gently

his breath was heavy and he sighed softly when she kissed him

"I have brought back a good size kill for you and our young one “his hand moved to her stomach he felt a slight swelling that was not there when he had left for the hunting trip he smiled "our child grows strong every day"

~Months later ~

Tsu'tey had just returned from a hunt when one of his fellow warriors had told him that his mate was with the healers this immediately worried his as she was pregnant and quite far along he stormed to the healers quickly and with great concern when he entered he immediately spotted

(Y/N) laying on the bed "how long has she been like this?" he said to a nearby healer "Since last night her water broke a bit ago" answered one of the healers.

The healer next to her moved aside to let him stand next to his mate. he then turned back to his mate placing a hand gently on her cheek watching her as she struggled to keep the pain from taking over (Y/N) looked up at him with relief at seeing her mate

he could tell that she was still afraid but his presence alone had given her much needed strength " I'm scared Tsu'tey he’s to early “ his soft eyes were a stark contrast to the his normal harsh and calloused look . he spoke to her softly and gently his voice soft and low as he helped her breath slowly "our son will be strong I promise you he will but you must be strong too"

he placed a comforting hand on her cheek brushing his thumb against her cheek "do not fear my little one he will come when ready the great mother, she knows the best time for him to be born She nods gently

he continued to gently brush his thumb against her cheek as she laid there waiting for their son to make his grand entrance. She gripped his hand as she got pains "focus on your breathing" he said softly "breathe deep and slowly" he was gently stroking her hair to try and calm her more

She tired calming down "that's good that's good my little one you are strong" he gently brushed her hair away from her face as he looked in her eyes she looked at him as sweat dripped down her face "this is the most pain I have ever felt" she said through gritted teeth.

he nodded "it will be over soon my little one" he said softly stroking her hair "just hold on" she could feel the baby was almost here and her breathing was becoming shallow

as the baby was coming out of her she suddenly screamed loudly and Tsu'tey gripped her hand tightly the baby was coming out now and the pain was only getting worse

"you can do this my little one" he said as he stroked her arms and hair giving her the warmth of his hands and all his love "Push my little one!" he smiled at her as she did her hands gripped tightly around his hand and she took a few deep breaths as she pushed. their baby was born into the world the cries of a new life filling the air the baby was laid on her chest and she and Tsu'tey both looked down with tear filled eyes at the little one they had created together. "you were very brave little one" he said softly placing a soft kiss on her forehead before bending down and kissing the babies head "thank you for giving me this wonderful gift" he kissed her forehead and she could tell that he was very pleased "he's beautiful"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

© Moonchildxoxx 2023 | all rights reserved. do not republish, repost, steal, modify, translate or claim my work as your own.

[yridenergyridenergy]

[sunny-mercya]

Parents Regrets

02. Fever Nights

Previous | Next

Batfamily x Male Child Reader

Masterlist

Another sleepless night for the Wayne family. A whole week it was now, in which they hadn't got a single amount of sleep. Tired they were, irritated, cranky and grumpy—to put it nicely—on it's finest level.

And the sole cause for this was you.

You had gotten a fever, heaven above knows from where. One of the strong kinds, which a adult could sweat off but a child not.

And a way of telling, for children who are in delay of speaking, was throughout crying.

Jason sighed deeply through his nose. Rubbing his eyes—pressing his palms into them—pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked down at his baby brother, who squirmed around in whining, not crying anymore but still teary eyed, of not liking the warmth—even though the only thing your wearing are diapers and a oversized shirt.

Jason has come, after some months of destroying something in rage, to terms with it of having another sibling, a much younger one, again.

Taking the washcloth from your forehead, Jason picked you up. You were starting to get fussy again and before another hellish cry would erupt from your tiny vocals, Jason decided to carry you a bit around.

«You know I love you sunshine, but a little bit of sleep would be nice, for the both, all of us» said Jason, more to himself than you in the sense of your not able to understand and reply at all.

You weren't the healthiest one—I mean Tim was unhealthy too, but in contrast to Tim, who lacks sleeps, human decency and only drinks his coffee on a empty stomach—wasn't prone to get easily sick, like you do.

Doctor Liz, after many check ups, told them that you have a weak immun system and that there wasn't anything to do about it—expect for medication and treatment vacations.

Jason would've comment, that there was a way—the lazarus pit or some dark magic rituals, but Bruce has already warned him not to bring it up. He could understand it though, doing one of those options would equal lots of pain for you and if your tiny body and mind could handle it was another question.

~~~

It was 4AM and all Tim wanted was a good old big cup of coffee to drink and being interrupted by Jason and the little annoyance of a brother—who cries, screams and shits endless—wasn't part of his plan. Tim glares at them, grip around his cup tighten.

«Can't you keep that thing away from kitchen?»

«Now now Timber, don't be so rude. We're just wanna have some chocolate milk,»

«I swear if he gonna cry again, I will scream.»

Jason ignored Tim, rummaging through the cupboards and fridge with one hand and preparing you a bottle of lukewarm chocolate milk. Hopefully this time you're able to drink it and not vomiting it all out again.

Tim glanced from time to time up from his phone at Jason and you. Tim wouldn't say he hated you, it's just being constantly keep awake from your crying was taking a toll on him.

«I don't think your choco-milk addiction is good for [Name].» mumbles Tim, eyeing the chocolate milk in your bottle wearily.

«Pff, better than Coffee don'tcha think?»

«And what if he is lactose intolerant?»

Jasons amusing smile fall instantly when Tim has pointed out the possibility of it.

«Fuck.» Jason cursed out, thinking back to all the times you had a endless pooping after you drank your chocolate milk. He never thought milk was the reasons for it, thought you only had a very sensitive stomach.

Tim groaned loudly when you started crying again. Hiding his face into his crossed arms onto the counter and screamed.

~~~

Your fever still hadn't gone down. Sometimes it would a bit, but then would rise again and with Jason constantly having giving you milk, a new problem has rising up, which adds to your feverish state.

Bruce bounced you on his leg, humming a melody and shushing you gently, trying to calm you down. Another sleepless night he guessed.

Bruce still doesn't what the reasons is for you feeling so unwell, besides the news of you being lactose intolerant. Maybe he should bring you into the hospital, Liz probably has some medication to help you. Then again Bruce wasn't sure if you would take this form of separation so greatly.

Just for a little bit, just for a little bit more they have to endure sleepless nights. You're recovery would just take a bit of time, nothing to fret.

Oh, but Bruce didn't know just how endless the nights would be go.

[im4rmy]

00: 吻 (wěn)

"And what are you afraid of? There must be something you fear losing, or else you'd just be a madman with a gun."

Jisung and Chaerin didn’t care for soulmates—adrenaline was their lifelong companion. But their love for risk wasn’t the only thing worth dying for.

← 吻 →

Universe introduction

The world described here is not the one we know: here, children grew up either striving to reach the person they were destined for, or avoiding them with every ounce of energy. Living in a world where every human being has a soulmate was not easy. It was possible to live without ever encountering one’s other half; many prayed never to meet their gaze. Once that bond was established, nothing could counter its destructive power: without even the slightest contact with one’s soulmate within six or seven days, both body and mind would begin to deteriorate, eventually leading to irreversible death. The bond was ordained by Fate at birth, marked by a small identical tattoo forged onto the bodies of both individuals, destined to either seek each other out or avoid one another for a lifetime. The connection did not always blossom into a romance; often, the most tightly intertwined souls were those bound by a purely platonic love. Having one’s destined person nearby accelerated cellular reproduction, planting seeds of energy and healing in the mind and body of the other. The death of one’s living soulmate was the most excruciating pain a human could ever experience, sometimes even leading to death by heartbreak.

Having a soulmate was crucial for members of a criminal gang, as they served as an inexhaustible elixir of healing. That’s why NCT devoted much of their energy to finding their partners. Only a few of the 17 members had met their other half. Some weren’t even remotely ready to find them.

← 吻 →

Main characters

NCT D (9 members)

Mark

Real name: Minhyung

Position: Leader, he only takes orders from NCT 127's leaders, Taeyong and Taejin; he coordinates the group's operations

Birthday: 02/08/99

Height: 176cm

Main skill: leadership; perseverance

Soulmate: unknown

← 吻→

Rachel

Real name: unknown

Position: Rogue and weapons expert, she is relied upon for thefts, break-ins and sniping

Birthday: 10/03/00

Height: 158cm

Main skill: knowledge and use of all types of weapons

Soulmate: unknown

← 吻→

Renjun

Real name: Renjun

Position: Hacker

Birthday: 23/03/00

Height: 171cm

Main skill: intuition; technology

Soulmate: Sky, member of a rival gang

← 吻→

Jeno

Real name: Jeno

Position: Captain, he leads dangerous operations following Mark's orders; front line, they rely on him for the most violent actions

Birthday: 23/04/00

Height: 177cm

Main skill: brute strenght

Soulmate: Jaemin

← 吻→

Haechan

Real name: Donghyuck

Position: Anchor, he is relied upon in case of emergencies and unforeseen events; he advises Mark on strategies; sniper

Birthday: 06/06/00

Height: 174cm

Main skill: intelligence; coolness; sniping

Soulmate: unknown

← 吻→

Jaemin

Real name: Jaemin

Position: Doctor

Birthday: 13/08/00

Height: 177cm

Main skill: stamina; medical knowledge

Soulmate: Jeno

← 吻→

Chenle

Real name: Chenle

Position: Mind, he knows everything; he is relied upon for details, strategies, financial and legal matters

Birthday: 22/11/01

Height: 176cm

Main skill: knowledge; eidetic memory

Soulmate: unknown

← 吻→

Jisung

Real name: Jisung

Position: Front line, he is relied upon for the most violent operations

Birthday: 05/02/02

Height: 180cm

Main skill: agility; speed

Soulmate: unknown

← 吻→

Chae

Real name: Chaerin

Position: Front line, she is relied upon for the most difficult operations; she is the youngest of NCT

Birthday: 19/09/02

Height: 170cm

Main skill: acrobatics; double-crossing; persuasion

Soulmate: Yeonjun, common boy

← 吻→

Side characters

NCT 127 (8 members)

Taeyong

Real name: Taeyong

Position: Co-leader, he's the first to be contacted by the Government; he assigns roles in NCT 127's operations, oversees tactics and supervises all decisions regarding NCT D's missions

Birthday: 01/07/95

Height: 175cm

Main skill: leadership; strategy

Soulmate: Taejin

← 吻→

Taejin

Real name: Taejin

Position: Co-leader, she's the first to be contacted by the Government; he assigns roles in NCT 127's operations, oversees tactics and supervises all decisions regarding NCT D's missions.

Birthday: 12/12/95

Height: 167cm

Main skill: leadership; strategy

Soulmate: Taeyong

← 吻→

Johnny

Real name: Youngho

Position: Front line, he is relied upon for the most violent operations

Birthday: 09/02/95

Height: 185cm

Main skill: agility

Soulmate: common girl, secret identity

← 吻→

Yuta

Real name: Yuta

Position: Rogue, he is trusted for thefts, burglaries and deceptions; Shaw's brother

Birthday: 26/10/95

Height: 176cm

Main skill: speed; discretion

Soulmate: unknown

← 吻→

Doyoung

Real name: Dongyoung

Position: Hacker

Birthday: 01/02/96

Height: 178cm

Main skill: tecnology

Soulmate: unknown

← 吻→

Jaehyun

Real name: Yoonoh

Position: Front line, he is relied upon for the most violent operations

Birthday: 14/02/97

Height: 180cm

Main skill: brute strenght

Soulmate: Jasmine, common girl

← 吻→

Shaw

Real name: Kanaka

Position: Front line, he is relied upon for the most violent operations; Yuta's sister

Birthday: 07/04/97

Height: 164cm

Main skill: acrobatics; martial arts

Soulmate: dead at young age

← 吻→

Jungwoo

Real name: Jungwoo

Position: Doctor

Birthday: 19/02/98

Height: 180cm

Main skill: medical knowledge

Soulmate: Lucas, common boy

← 吻→

! TRIGGER WARNINGS ¡

This story will contain scenes of violence and both explicit and non-explicit sexual content. Additionally, there will be some boyxboy and girlxgirl scenes.

«吻, Wěn» index

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[theidiotwhowritesthings]

INEVITABLE [2]

din djarin x female!reader

warnings: language, mentions of the slave trade, canon violence, blood and injuries

word count: 6,030

Summary: It was like fate or destiny had planned from the beginning for you to be on the run from the law. With the words ‘I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold’ adorning your rib cage you always wondered what was worse: Knowing you were bound to being wanted or realizing your soulmate was a cursed bounty hunter. You had a mission to finish and no bounty hunter, soulmate or not, was going to stop you.

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02: FALLING FOR YOU

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"courage is knowing it might hurt, and doing it anyways. stupidity is the same. and that's why life is hard." ⏤jeremy goldberg

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It had been a very long time since Din was nervous before a hunt. Wary, maybe, or concerned, but not nervous. He had retreated to the Razor Crest for the night, needing the time to mentally and emotionally spiral while in the safety of his own ship, then the next day he started tracking you down once more. Din thought surely you would’ve left Bespin entirely, but he tracked you back to a cantina. A different cantina. But still.

 Just as he had yesterday, Din simply stepped into the building. He had planned to be more tactful today, but realizing you were in another cantina had been curious enough to throw him off entirely. You sat at the bar this time, turned so you could lean your back against the counter, with pretty eyes glancing around the room. Your eyes darted to him, away, then back again. Din expected a lot of reactions to his presence, but he never would’ve guessed that you’d roll your eyes with a huff and turn back around. 

What the hell?

Din crossed the room. Grogu whined from inside the closed pram floating behind him. The child hated being locked away, and Din hated locking him away, but he didn’t trust himself around this quarry. And that’s what you were. A quarry. He had to remind himself of that again.

“Can I buy you a drink, bucket head?” You asked. Din narrowed his eyes at you in a glare⏤ knowing good and well you couldn’t see it, but it made him feel better to do it. You glanced over your shoulder at him with that same infuriating smirk you shot him yesterday. “What’s your poison of choice?”

“You’re coming with me.” Din demanded.

“Mmm, no thanks.”

Din shook his head, “That wasn’t a choice.”

“It kind of felt like a choice when I kicked your ass yesterday and ran.” You snickered. “Mandalorian.”

The way you said his title was mocking and it made Din’s skin bristle with irritation. His hands drifted to his hips and he leaned in toward you. “Get up now.”

You groaned. “Seriously, bucket head⏤”

“Don’t call me that.” He snapped.

“⏤what do I have to do to get you off my back?” You had continued on, unphased by his demeanor. “Credits? Is that what gets you going in the morning?” You turned back around, maintaining your confident posture, and it put your face by his. “I can get you some credits. Probably. Do you take IOUs?”

Din tried to keep his composure. He had dealt with plenty of quarries who mouthed off to him, but this was the quickest it had actually worked. Din leaned back to stand tall once more. You quirked an eyebrow up at him and he locked his jaw. He wondered if you could hear his teeth grind together. Din reached to his belt, pulling off the binders, and slammed them on the counter by you.

“Put them on.”

“That’s a bit lazy of you, don’t you think?” You replied. “At least all the other hunters I faced did their own dirty work.”

Briefly, Din felt a flash of anger at the thought of a bunch of hunters manhandling you. It was gone as quick as it came, and the feeling was replaced with annoyance that it came at all. This soulmate thing was becoming a real nuisance. Fine. You wanted to make this difficult? Din would be the bounty hunter you expected him to be.

Din grabbed you by the wrist roughly, spinning you in your seat so he could twist your arm behind you. His other hand grasped you by the back of the neck and he slammed you into the counter. The sound of your grunt of pain made his grip marginally loosen. He leaned in once more, “Anything to say now?”

“Now? No.” You replied. “But I’ll let you know if I think of something.”

If Din thought fate had been ridiculous before for picking a quarry as his soulmate, he was really hating it now. Not only was his soulmate a quarry, but it was a smartass slave trader with the most aggravating of smirks. Maker, he was looking forward to shoving you into the carbonite freezer. Din grabbed the binders off the counter and connected it to both your wrists behind your back. He ripped you up and out of your seat then without a beat he began to shove you out of the cantina. 

You begun to kick your feet, slowing your pace, and Din grabbed you by your upper arm so he could drag you along as needed. Din turned his head to look at you in skepticism. Yesterday, you had been quick to plan an escape route, but now you were going willingly? He didn’t trust it.

“Tell me, why would you go to a second cantina knowing I’m chasing you?” Din blurted.

“You want me to just reveal my grand master plan? I think not.” You chuckled. “You can just keep on wondering, bucket head.”

“It’s… reckless.” Din wanted to use the word ‘stupid’, but he couldn’t force it out.

You shrugged best you could with his hand wrapped tightly around your arm. “I’m reckless. What’s your point?” He shouldn’t have even asked. Din shook his head and mumbled curses under his breath. He was able to get you a few more streets over before you cried out in pain and hunched over. “Ow, ow. Wait⏤ Hang on.”

Din’s feet skidded to a stop. “What?”

“My leg. I just⏤ Let me lean for a second, okay?” You grunted and limped over with him in tow to lean against a hand railing. Din looked for any obvious injuries. “You’ve been dragging me down the road, you ass.”

Guilt rolled through him like a crashing wave no matter how much he tried to hold it back. His fingers loosened around your upper arm. Half a sigh left his lips a fist suddenly slammed up into his side right under his diaphragm making his breath stutter. Din spun, but you had already hooked one end of the binders around his wrist and the other to the metal bar you had been leaned against. He went to grab you, but you threw yourself over the bar and away from him. His hand shot to his blaster, but Din found it in your hand.

“How…” He breathed and glanced down at his situation.

Din reached for the keys on his belt, but while one of your hands held him at blaster point the other held up the keys. He blinked in shock. Din would never admit it aloud, he could barely admit it to himself, but he was mildly impressed. In fact, he’d be very impressed if his anger wasn’t overshadowing everything else.

“I’m a pickpocket. Should’ve warned you.” You shrugged. “Listen, how about we end our working relationship here.” Din huffed and tried to pull his arm free from the metal bar uselessly. “I’ve hit all the cantinas I need to in this city so I’m gonna be on my way, and I’m gonna leave you here. Let’s just agree to part ways as bitter friends.”

Din gnashed his teeth. “Release me. Now.”

“Yikes.” You made a clicking noise with your mouth. “You’re not exactly in the position to be making demands, bucket head.” You threw the key over your shoulder and then tossed the blaster as well⏤ so both would be out of reach from him. “It was so nice to meet you, by the way. Would love to never meet up again.”

You winked at him and he glared at you the entire time you sprinted away. Din turned to the pram to see Grogu had already opened the hatch and was staring at him. Din tugged on the binders once more, fruitlessly, then motioned to them. Grogu hopped out of his pram with a mischievous giggle and Din let his head fall against the metal bar with a ‘clang’. 

The Mandalorian was pestering. You had a bad feeling he wouldn’t just give up. In fact, arguably, he could come after you with a vengeance after you hooked him to a metal bar. He’d get out free, but you hoped you could get a few worlds away before he did. You had a feeling no matter who he asked on the street to grab the key and blaster they’d steer around him without making eye contact. The faults of being an intimidating Mandalorian, you supposed.

You were on your way back to the local tarmac in hopes that you could bum a ride off someone. As you walked, you had pulled out your list to scratch names off. Technically, there were a few other places you needed to check, other cities, but it’d be a little awkward for you to sit in your third cantina of this world and have the Mandalorian walk in again. Maybe for now you’d put off the rest of Bespin and come back later.

“Lookie, lookie.” A whiny voice sang in a tone that made you wince. A slimy looking human stepped into your path from around the corner. A group of four other unfamiliar men stepped out behind him. He whistled. “The Mandalorian’s friend is all alone.”

You narrowed your eyes in disbelief. “Friend? Excuse me?”

“Don’t play coy.” He snapped. “We saw you with him.”

“Yeah, alright, and what part of seeing us together made you think we’re friends?” You scoffed. “Was it the part where I broke a bar stool over his head or when he put me in a pair of binders?”

The men behind the first began to mumble skeptically, but the first refused to cave, “No, no. I’m telling you the two of them are⏤ look! Look, here he comes to save her already!” You stiffened in shock and whirled around to see the silver Mandalorian stalking toward you from down the road. How in the hell had he gotten out that quickly? “What did I tell you, boys?”

You scanned the area. To your right were the backs of buildings and the closest alley was further down, beyond the men blocking you. To your left was literally nothing. A protective guard rail and a view of the clouds. So that was out. And now you had a fucking bounty hunter stalking you from behind. Great.

“How about this,” You hissed, “Let me pass then you can beat up on the tin can, yeah?”

“Boss, I don’t think she’s⏤”

“Fine, fine, whatever.” The man snapped. “Get the kriff out of our way.” You gave the Mandalorian, who had paused, a brief salute and hurried past the men who left a space for you. You got a few steps away when you heard the man speak once more. “Don’t forget, I want that beskar. As for the kid, we can just sell it.”

You came to a screeching stop. A chill ran up your spine. A kid? You turned around to see the men slowly approaching the Mandalorian who continued to stand his ground. The pram behind him now rested right beside him and the hatch was open to reveal a small, green creature with large ears and wide, innocent eyes. A kid. Fuck.

The men had completely forgotten about you to focus on the Mandalorian so not a single one of them noticed when you began to approach them once more. In a swift, practiced motion, you drew your dagger and threw it with a precision that came from years of ingrained muscle memory. The blade buried itself into the back of the closest man, and his scream of agony made his friends pause and whirl back around. The Mandalorian took this as his opportunity to strike.

You lunged forward to get your blade back while hiding behind the man’s body best you could to avoid being hit by stray blaster fire. He spun, startling you, and began to swing out to try and make contact. You ducked under his arms to avoid a blow but that put you further into the fray. You didn’t notice the attack coming from your side until an elbow slammed into your face. You heard a crunch, felt the warm blood spray down your face, and with a groan, you hit the ground dazed. One on one you did fairly well in a fight, but more than that and you struggled. You rolled over and glanced up to see even more people showed up to the fight⏤ all friends of the ones you were fighting. They came up from behind the Mandalorian. 

Once you were on the ground, it seemed like nobody cared about your presence at all. They swarmed the bounty hunter in a mass. You knew beskar was rare, but this seemed like overkill. A young cry filled the air and you spotted one of the men rushing toward you with a squirming bundle in his arms. The roar of anger that left the Mandalorian was ground shaking, words in a language you didn’t recognize ringing loudly, and it was followed by a wave of fire from his vambrace as he took on every single adversary that came at him.

You jumped up as the guy with the kid rushed by, and on instinct you ran after. Your face throbbed with pain, but you didn't let it hinder your speed. Luck was on your side and the man ended up cornering himself by staying too close to the railing. When he tried to turn down a different road you were able to cut him off and back him up against the guard rail once more. 

He reached for the blaster at his hip, but you were faster. You drew the weapon from under your jacket and aimed it at his head. “Don’t.”

“What?” The man narrowed his eyes. “What the kriff is that?”

“Firearm.” You replied. “Nice, isn’t it?” He shifted and you tilted your head. “The slug in this weapon isn’t meant for you. Set the kid down, and I’ll let you walk away.”

The child in his arms squirmed enough to be able to look at you and even from this distance you still couldn’t tell what species it was. But, you could see the kid was young⏤ a toddler at best. You stayed firm in your stance, and the man was nervously shifting as if trying to gauge how serious you were. As if to prove your point further, you pulled back on the revolver’s hammer so the slug clicked into place.

Slowly, the man held the kid away from his chest in surrender but he stopped suddenly, “How do I know you won’t shoot me the second I hand the kid over?”

“I told you,” You said, “This slug has someone else’s name on it.”

“What about the Mandalorian?” He cried. “He’ll kill me.”

“Probably.” You shrugged. “But I figure, you set the kid down and you’ll have time to run at the very least. You hurt the kid, and that block of angry beskar is going to stomp your teeth down your throat.” You gave him a mocking grin. “So, make your choice and make it quick.”

Blaster fire came much too close and you had to duck to avoid being hit by a stray bolt. The Mandalorian was barreling in your direction while the last few fighters fired after him. He barked something and you turned back to see the man holding the kid had been hit. He slumped to the side, hitting the guard rail, and with a surprised chirp the kid went right over the side of the city. 

You dropped the firearm and leapt over the edge right after him.

It was perhaps one of your least thought out plans, but the moment your hands grasped the kid you spun in the air and used all the momentum you had to throw him right back over the rail. The few broken bones or concussion he might get from being thrown so violently was better than the fate you were about to meet. Loud wind whipped past you as you fell. This is not how you thought you’d be leaving the world of the living and despite your entire body being filled to the brim with terror and fear as you hurtled through the air there was still just enough room for regret to take root.

Not regret at leaping over the edge for a kid you didn’t know.

Regret that you never got to see the life leave Viktor’s greedy eyes.

Nothing could have surprised you more than a solid force tackling you from behind. The air left your lungs while firm arms wrapped around you and the trajectory of your fall changed as you were suddenly being rocketed up. Glancing over your shoulder best you could, you spotted a chest of silver beskar. Before you could comprehend what was happening your feet touched down on solid ground. The hands wrapped around you dropped and you found yourself falling to your hands and knees⏤ still shaky from falling a few hundred feet.

“Patu.” A chirp followed by excited babbling made you lift your head to see the child standing right in front of you. He reached out and gave your face a little pat. He looked entirely unharmed. The situation was starting to become clear once more and you saw your firearm lying on the ground out of your peripherals. 

You lunged for the weapon, but a heavy boot dropped down to rest on it⏤ pining it to the ground. Sheepishly, you peered up to see the Mandalorian staring down at you with his hands on his hips. You pressed your lips together and then scrunched your nose out of habit only to wince in pain from the movement. You cleared your throat. “We, uh, need to stop meeting like this.”

“Get up.” He said tensely. You sighed and pushed to stand, dusting off your pants, and tried to puzzle out if you could make a clean getaway by breaking into a sprint now. The Mandalorian stepped forward, lifting a hand to your face and you flinched back. “Stop. Stay still.”

The bounty hunter’s hands cupped your face in an almost tender way. Your eyes widened in confusion both at his actions and the flickering flame of warmth that sparked in your belly at being this close to a man who was hunting you. His hands shifted, thumbs tracing your cheekbones, and then he used both thumbs to snap your nose into place. You let out a howl of pain and shoved him back, “What the⏤” You lifted to touch your nose and realized it wasn’t nearly as tender anymore. “What the hell, man!?”

“Your nose was broken.” He replied.

“Yeah? Well, warn a girl!” You scoffed.

The Mandalorian tilted his head. “Would you have let me fix it if I warned you?” No. Of course not. You mocked him under your breath by mumbling his words. He nodded. “Thank you.”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you. For saving my son.”

You glanced back at the small child standing by your boot now. He gave your leg a little pat before waddling over to this father. The Mandalorian picked him up and you wondered if the man under the armor was just as green as the kid. How did he fit ears like that under his helmet?

You pointed down to his boot, “That’s mine. Giving it back to me and letting me walk away would be a real cool thank you gift.” The metal pram from earlier drifted toward the two of you and when it came to a stop the boy jumped from the armored arms holding him into the floating crib. You were surprised to see the man move his boot out of the way and bend over to pick up your weapon. The Mandalorian held it out to you and your lips twitched up in excitement. “Glad to see we could settle this, bucket head.”

The second your hand grabbed the firearm you realized he wasn’t letting it go, but before you could tug or even speak his other hand shot up and clicked one binder around your wrist. You gasped, “You dick.” You could’ve sworn a chuckle left the helmet’s modulator. He tucked the firearm into his belt and then clicked the other half of the binder to his own wrist. “Is this because I called you bucket head?”

“That didn’t help.”

“So, I save your kid, and you still arrest me?”

“Yes.” He nodded and leaned into your space to pull the blade from the sheath around your thigh. He tucked that into his belt as well and took a few steps away. You dug your heels in. “Walk.”

“What about⏤”

“Walk.”

You grumbled in annoyance and picked up your feet. He seemed nonplussed with having to drag you down the road and it looked like his end goal was the tarmac where you had initially planned to be. The pram lingered beside you and the green child was babbling excitedly as if the two of you were having a full blown conversation. You kept glancing at him out of the corner of your eye.

“Your kid talks a lot.” You said, tugging on the arm connected to him⏤ not that it seemed to bother him.

“So do you.” He hit back.

“That’s…fair.” You admitted. “Where are you taking the savior of your child?”

“I could’ve saved him without you.”

You scoffed, “Yeah, well, if I knew you had a kriffing jackpack I would’ve let you.” The Mandalorian came to a sudden stop and it jerked on your arm. “Bucket head, come on! Seriously?”

“You didn’t know I had a jetpack?”

You narrowed your eyes at him trying to figure out the catch behind this obvious trick question. You shook your head. “Why would I know that?”

“When we met, I saw you watching me.” He replied. “You were checking me for all my weapons.”

You winked, “Maybe I was just checking you out.”

“Stop.” The Mandalorian said firmly and started walking again. The two of you got a few more feet before he spoke up once more. “If you didn’t know I had a jetpack, why would you jump over the edge?”

“Did you miss the part where your kid went flying over first?”

“You’d be willing to die for a stranger?”

You shrugged. “He’s a kid.” The Mandalorian stopped again and turned to stare at you. Your eyebrows furrowed in mild annoyance. Why was this conversation still happening? Maker, at this point you were hoping to be thrown in a carbonite freezer just to avoid his heavy gaze and questions. “Can you finish arresting me please?”

After a beat, the Mandalorian began to walk and you took that as a victory. You’d take what you could get today.

Watching that bastard grab Grogu and run away while he was left trapped in a mob of smugglers was the most rage Din had felt in quite a long time. He had been ruthless in cutting down the men that swarmed him, and he would’ve killed every last one in that moment if he had the time. As soon as he had a window, Din was sprinting after the man who had taken his son. 

Din hadn’t even realized you were still around until he saw you holding the man at the end of your weapon. The blaster bolts that fired around him missed you by an inch, but it hit the man right in the side and all of Din’s rage turned to fear when he watched Grogu get thrown over the edge. Even knowing he’d be able to fly after him⏤ it didn’t stop his stomach from turning to lead. Then fear morphed into absolute confusion when he watched you drop your weapon and literally leap over the railing. You disappeared out of sight and seconds later Grogu came flying over the railing back to safety. Din lunged forward to catch the kid before he hit the ground.

“Gev!” Din set Grogu on the ground, pointing at the boy to make it known he was serious, and then Din dove over the edge.

He didn’t understand, couldn’t fathom, what was going through your head. What kind of quarry would stop mid-escape to risk their life in the way you had? You had been in the clear. The smuggler’s let you pass and instead of disappearing when the opportunity presented itself, you came back and stabbed one of them. Din hated to admit it, but he had also been very aware that you stayed in the fight and he had a visceral reaction to watching you get elbowed in the face hard enough to collapse.

It was how the smugglers got the opportunity to grab Grogu.

Like a kriffing idiot, he had gotten distracted and nearly lost his son because of it.

‘He’s a kid.’ Your voice echoed through his head the entire walk to the tarmac. Initially, Din had been confused why you’d trust him to actually catch you. Did you actually know who he was? Your soulmate? And you assumed he’d have to catch you? But, when you admitted that you had no idea he even had a jetpack, Din felt floored. You hadn’t jumped over the edge trusting he’d catch you. You jumped over the edge thinking it was going to be the last thing you ever did, and you did it to save a stranger. No, a kid. That’s what you said. The look on your face, the tone of your voice, it was natural instinct for you. The obvious choice. 

You hadn’t given sacrificing your life for a child a second thought.

Din hadn’t decided yet if that made you honorable or insane.

A thought drifted through him before he could stop it. It was an action taken right out of a Mandalorian’s playbook. He forced it out of his head. You were not a Mandalorian. You were a quarry wanted for slave trading. A quarry. His soulmate quarry. Dank farrik. Din lowered the ramp of the Razor Crest and led you on. 

“Can I use the fresher before you shove me in carbonite?” Din did a double take at your words⏤ a common occurrence with you he was learning. You seemed to be entirely serious with your request though. You shrugged nonchalantly. “Being frozen with a full bladder is miserable.”

“You’ve been in carbonite before?”

You paused then pointed to your face with a tight lipped smile. “Bounty.”

“I’m not putting you in carbonite.” Din replied. He ignored the confusion drawn on your features and closed the ramp. Din then unlatched the binders and pointed down the very short hall. When Peli had rebuilt the Crest for him he had it modified for just a bit more space, but the fresher was nearly laid out in the same position. “Fresher’s that way. There’s no weapons in there.”

Din wanted to get the ship up in the air right now, but he didn’t trust you not to make a break for it. He got Grogu settled with a ration bar and then he perched himself on the edge of a supply crate facing toward the fresher. While waiting, Din pulled your weapon out from his belt and admired the metal work. A slugthrower. Impressive. He hadn’t seen one in a hot minute, and this one was built by someone who knew what they were doing. The dark metal was carved with swirls and designs of gold. The handle carved in wood and ivory. Though he hadn’t seen one in ages, Din was familiar with firearms. He popped out the ornate cylinder and raised an eyebrow at the single slug loaded in. All other five slots were empty.

The other weapon you carried was a simple metal dagger. Not as rare, but vibroblades were more popular. 

The mystery of who you were seemed to grow with every second he was stuck with you.

Din set the firearm down by his thigh and unintentionally his hand drifted up to rest over his left ribcage where your words stained his skin. ‘Would you really arrest your soulmate?’ All those years he thought those words, rolled them around in his head, there was a sharp difference. Now, he heard the words in your voice rather than his own. Even once he rid himself of you, that would linger.

He heard you shifting in the fresher and drew his own blaster to rest on his thigh⏤ pointed toward where you’d be, but with the trigger finger resting on the side of the weapon. He didn’t think he’d need to use it, but if Din had learned one thing about you thus far it was that you were unpredictable.

The fresher doors slid open and you stepped out. When your eyes landed on him, you let out a huff and lifted your hands in surrender. “You did a lot of work to just shoot me now.” Din motioned to the ladder leading up into the cockpit with his blaster. “You… want me to climb?” He pushed off the crate and gave a single nod. “Yeah, alright, sure.” You sighed and walked to the ladder. You paused to glance over your shoulder to Grogu who was still scarfing down his ration bar. “Your dad is kind of a dick. Anybody tell you that before?”

“Buir!” Grogu laughed and followed it with babbling.

“I’m taking that as a yes.” You mumbled to yourself and began to climb. Din followed. He wanted answers from you as much as he wanted to get off this world. At the top of the ladder, Din passed you and ushered you into the cockpit. He pointed to the passenger seat and didn’t miss how you rolled your eyes before dropping down. Din took his own seat, but spun the pilot’s chair around to face you first. He pulled the binders from his belt.

“Hands.” He ordered.

“Oh, good.” You smirked and offered him your wrists. “I was starting to miss these things.”

Din clamped them in place then turned back to begin lift off. It wasn’t until hyperspace that he turned back around, and Din was startled to see your eyes had been drooping closed. At his movement, they snapped open once more and your posture stiffened. He took the moment to really soak you in. Specifically, he let his eyes trace the golden band around your neck⏤ the lights of hyperspace reflected off the material same as it did his own beskar. At first glance, he’d label it a gaudy accessory that didn’t match the worn down nature of the rest of your outfit. However, even from here Din could see the faint scars that half hid under the gold. 

It wasn’t a necklace. It was a collar.

“What now, bucket head?”

“Now, you tell me why someone who is clever enough to escape multiple bounty hunters is reckless enough to visit another cantina right after running into me.”

You shrugged. “Maybe you’re not as intimidating as you think you are.”

Din leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, “All the other hunters find you in bars as well. Why’s a slave trader visiting every cantina in the galaxy?”

He really doubted the backstory the bounty puck was giving him now, seeing the metal that adorned your neck, but Din wanted to see your reaction. There was a brief flash of anger across your face, gone as quick as it came, and Din could tell you were biting the inside of your cheek to refrain from saying whatever words were spinning around in your head right now. Finally, you smirked, “I’m on the search for the galaxy’s best cocktail.” You leaned forward. “You wouldn’t believe what world is in the lead, Mandalorian.”

Din wasn’t sure what was more ironic⏤ that fate lumped him together with a quarry or that fate picked a person who never knew when to shut up. He shook his head, “You asked me earlier what it would take to get me off your back.” Your eyes marginally widened. “Do you still want to know?”

“Name it.” You answered.

“I want answers.” He stressed and watched as your jaw locked in irritation again. “What are you searching the galaxy for?”

For a long moment, you just stared at him. Din could see you analyzing him. It was that simple action, and the way he saw you sizing him up when you first met, that told him you weren’t just some mouthy, arrogant idiot. You were clever. It was probably how you escaped so many bounty hunters in the past. 

You shrugged, “Revenge.”

The answer didn’t necessarily startle him. It was only revenge, love, and greed that could have someone dedicate so much time to their end goal. Piecing together the parts of the puzzle he had gave him a blurry image. Din nodded, “Whoever you’re going after, do they deserve it?”

“Yes.” You replied without even a pause. “They do.”

You didn’t fully understand the line of questioning being thrown your way, but considering the options it wasn’t the worst scenario you found yourself in. The Mandalorian had turned back around without another word after asking you his last question and it now left you sitting in your seat exhausted and confused. More than anything you craved sleep. After your last 24 hours that wasn’t surprising. What did surprise you was how easily you were dozing off while being in this too small cockpit with the Mandalorian bounty hunter. It was like your stupid body didn’t perceive him as a current threat.

Maybe he wasn’t. He said he wasn’t going to throw you in the carbonite freezer, and from what you knew about Mandalorians they were the type who held honor above nearly everything else. You had given your freedom to save his kid and you prayed he didn’t take that action lightly. 

“I have another question.” The Mandalorian spoke without turning.

“Alright, but if you get another one then I’m allowed one now too.” You argued.

You just barely saw the tilt of his helmet in agreement. A part of you hoped he was done questioning you about your goals in life. It wasn’t a topic you wanted to explore any further with this stranger. But, the Mandalorian caught you off guard by veering far away from his previous questions.

“What you said when we met…” He hummed, “What did you mean by that?”

“The soulmate thing?” You snorted. “Yeah, hilarious, isn’t it? You spooked me for a second with how quiet you got after I said it, but now I know silence is just your go-to intimidation tactic, bucket head.” From where you sat you could see him stiffen and assumed it was from your chosen nickname for him. “Does your kind even have soulmates? Do I need to explain⏤”

“My kind?” He finally glanced over at you.

“Yeah. Whatever you are.”

“I’m human.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, you’re not allowed to sound so surprised that I didn’t know. You’re covered from head to toe in metal, and I just assumed you were the same kind as your kid.”

“Grogu was…adopted.” He replied. 

Huh. Grogu. That was the kid’s name. Well, that was one of two that you got. You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees after he turned back around to scan a map on the control panel. “So? What do I call you then? What’s your name?”

“Mando. You can call me Mando.”

“Mando as in Mandalorian?” You laughed. “Maker, even ‘bucket head’ is more imaginative than that. You seriously go by that?” Mando didn’t reply and you snickered some more under your breath before leaning back. “I’ll consider it, bucket head.”

You could hear him mumble a string of words that you were going to assume was his native language. You'd also assume he was cursing. That's usually the response you got. The cockpit was filled with the comfortable silence of hyperspace and despite being seated on a metal chair, you began to doze off again. It was getting harder and harder to keep your heavy lids open, and faintly you thought you heard the Mandalorian speak once more before you lost the battle against unconsciousness.

“Sleep, mirdala runi. You’re safe.”

mando'a translations:

gev: stop (stay) /// buir: Parent (father) /// mirdala runi: Clever soul

taglist: @onceinamando @hrtsforpascal @lil-dragon-draws @harriedandharassed @aheadfullofsteverogers @elfamosotoga @the-anchored-sailor-girl @garbo-lesbo @moonlqghts @stokeholdsblogdsblog @morks-watermelon @http-onie

[its-luna-noel]

pirouettes & the ghost of harman street | gojo x reader

02. i wont expect the same

"Baby, I'm hurt so bad by you I also think about how nice it'd be, to fall in love again I won't expect the same" ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ Satoru Gojo lost his best friend, his partner, his other half. He's terrified when another friend falls for him. He can’t let this time be like the last.

warnings: 18+, MDNI, f!reader, eventual smut, friends to lovers, past satosugu, drinking, partying, brief non-con & past non-con trauma, depression, past suic!de, grief/loss, panic attacks, some dark themes but i promise this is a comfort fic

word count: 2.6k

chapter: 2/10 prev. chapter | next chapter

masterlist | link to ao3

Satoru never texted you.

It’s not that he didn’t want to; he did. But every time he opened up the new contact, the one with not your name but his little impromptu pet name for you, he felt his stomach sink with nerves and dread. He typed and retyped an opener, trying to decide whether to play it cool, to say something funny, or to just ask you to hang out with him, to ask if he could see you.

So instead of deciding, he did nothing.

Weeks went by, uneventful, filled with the same bland routine he’d fallen into. The same mourning.

It was, once again, Shoko who pulled him out of his wallowing.

|| Shoko Ieiri: Movie night, your place?

Satoru almost rolled his eyes when he saw the message. He knew what she was doing, and he didn’t necessarily appreciate her playing coy. But he was sure that if he didn’t agree to whatever she was planning, she would just come up with something else, and at least this way he could stay in the comfort of his own home.

He sighed and texted back, head propped up on pillows in his bed, one hand behind his head.

|| Satoru Gojo: Sure. Who’s coming?

Shoko responded almost immediately.

|| Shoko Ieiri: I’ll work on the deets. You just clean the depression pit.

He just sighed again. That meant this was going to be something much larger than he was in the mood for, than he had the energy for.

But he knew better than to argue with Shoko. So he started to clean his apartment, getting ready to have guests over.

When a knock came at the door, he didn’t even have to call that it was open before Shoko swung open the door, boxes of pizza and a twelve-pack of assorted beers propped in her arms.

“Help,” she said.

Satoru rolled his eyes and came forward, grabbing the beer and pizza from her and setting them on the kitchen counter. Then, with his arms crossed over his chest, he raised an eyebrow and demanded, “Who’s coming?”

Shoko scoffed and gave him a look. “Our friends, Satoru. Utahime and Nanami. You think I’d invite a bunch of randos over to your place without asking?”

Satoru wasn’t sure what to think. He knew she just wanted to help, but he definitely wouldn’t put it past her to invite a bunch of people over all in the name of getting him out of his own head. But she didn’t mention anyone outlandish, only his real friends, the ones who were close enough to know better than to bring up what happened, to ask how he was doing.

She didn’t mention your name; he wasn’t sure whether to be disappointed or relieved.

Nanami got there first – ever the punctual one. Satoru dutifully put on a brave face and a smile, tossing him a beer and cheerfully sitting beside him on the couch.

“So,” he chirped, cracking open his own can of beer and taking a long drink, grabbing up the remote, “whatcha feel like watching, Nanami?”

His friend seemed relatively disinterested in the options as he leaned forward and took a large slice of pizza from the box. “Something more interesting than the garbage we watched last time.”

“Hey, Anchorman is a classic!”

Nanami just shook his head in disapproval.

Shoko walked over and joined them on the couch, tucking her legs underneath her.

The boys were busy trying to decide on a movie when Utahime finally arrived, so Shoko took it on herself to answer the door for Satoru. He barely even noticed – they were close enough that he didn’t care either way – until he heard her telling someone where to put their coat.

That meant someone unfamiliar was in his home.

He frowned and glanced over his shoulder, trying to peer past the corner of his entryway to see who had arrived with Utahime, but then he heard your vaguely familiar voice, and his heart sank into his gut.

Then you came around the corner, and you lifted your eyes from your feet to look around, and the two of you made sudden, unexpected eye contact.

You gave a half-hearted smile and waved, and Satoru had to plaster his own smile to his face and jerk his chin in a nod.

Damn you, Shoko.

“Hey,” he greeted, and he was more than a little proud that his voice didn’t betray how unmoored he felt by your presence, “Nanami and I decided on The Revenant. That sound good?”

You thanked Shoko when she brought you and Utahime both a drink, cracking open another for herself. Then you turned back to Satoru and nodded, offering that same small smile. “Yeah,” you said, sinking down onto the love seat adjacent to the couch, “I like that movie.”

Utahime sat beside you, sipping at her drink. “Is it scary?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t like scary movies.”

“Of course you don’t,” Satoru quipped automatically, the response a shadow of his old self. “You little weakling.”

“I am not a weakling!”

And so began a small standoff between the two, a common occurrence between the two friends. But you’d never seen the spectacle of their little arguments before, so you couldn’t help but laugh at the way Satoru knew just which buttons to push to make Utahime threaten to throw her beer (if it wasn’t a waste of a perfectly good drink, she stated).

And Satoru felt that same thrill as the first time he heard you laugh. And a little more of the darkness in his mind receded at the sound.

Once the two finished their display, leaving Utahime pouting and you playfully nudging her to let it go, Satoru started the movie, and the five of you enjoyed your pizza and beer, the film, and each other’s company.

Satoru could feel your presence across the room like an energy field, like crackling electricity from a frayed live wire. He wanted to apologize for never reaching out, wanted to run away before you could even bring it up, wanted to kick you out of his house because Shoko had purposefully lied to him to get you there.

Did that mean you asked about him? Did you want to come? Or was Shoko just meddling in things she couldn’t possibly understand?

But he couldn’t help but remember how he thanked her for inviting him to your party; maybe she wasn’t being malicious after all.

Everyone was quiet during the movie, only speaking up to add rare comments, too invested in the tense scenes. Then, when the movie ended, you all sat in silence for a while, listening to the somber music at the end.

Satoru tried to soothe the dark mood with a low chuckle. “Everyone need a debrief to get back to working order?”

Everyone huffed a small laugh, still a little shell shocked by the film. The silence continued for a long, pregnant moment before you spoke up.

“You guys remember how it used to be a meme that DiCaprio didn’t have an Oscar?”

Which promptly started a discussion of his acting proficiency, his many roles and which were his best, and then onto his social and dating life and if such a man should still be celebrated. Your simple question started an hour-long conversation, and Satoru couldn’t help but feel grateful – just like he had at your party – for your presence.

You made things easy. It was a feeling he wasn’t used to.

Nanami was the first to leave, citing his need for a glass of wine and a book to get to bed. Satoru couldn’t help but tease him a little for being a killjoy, but your eyes crinkled at the corners when you said goodbye, and Nanami made it a point to say he looked forward to hanging out with you again.

It seemed you had successfully inserted yourself into the little group. Satoru couldn’t decide if he was impressed, terrified, or simply annoyed.

Utahime left next, and then finally Shoko stood and grabbed her coat. You took that as your leave as well, but you hesitated, glancing around at the mess of pizza boxes and beer cans.

It was your courtesy that made you ask, “Do you want some help cleaning up before I go?”

Shoko shrugged on her coat, watching the two of you with rapt interest.

Satoru’s initial instinct was to just wave you off, say he would take care of it and you could go home. But a part of him knew he wanted to talk to you about what happened, about why he never reached out to you. If you were going to hang around with them from now on, he didn’t want to constantly avoid you just to dodge your questions.

So he just smiled and said, “Sure, that would be great.”

You said good night to Shoko as she waved over her shoulder at the two of you, and you and Satoru were quiet as he handed you a plastic bag and you both started cleaning up the scattered garbage and beer cans.

You looked at him out of the corner of your eye as you helped him clean up the pizza boxes, bringing the leftovers to the kitchen. “You didn’t text.”

Satoru’s jaw clenched and unclenched; he didn’t have anything to say. You were both quiet for a while, and then he said, “No. I didn’t.”

You didn’t respond right away. Finally, “Can I ask why?”

He was quiet again, for much longer this time. You eventually wondered if he was even going to answer, so you gently asked, “Did I…overstep?”

He immediately shook his head, sighing. He reached out and rested his hands on the kitchen counter, facing away from you, and he could feel your eyes on his back. He sighed again. “You didn’t do anything wrong, princess. I just…” He trailed off, but you waited to listen. He blew out another slow breath. “I didn’t know what you wanted.”

That was part of the truth, enough of it. He didn’t know what you wanted, if you wanted something he surely couldn’t give you.

He was terrified that you wanted something from him; everyone did. He was Satoru Gojo, everyone wanted him or wanted his popularity or the promise of something more, and there was nothing more he could give.

Not since Suguru.

You tilted your head, glancing over to examine him. Your voice was still soft. “Well…what do you want?”

He was quiet again, but it was a thoughtful silence this time, pensive. What did he want? He wasn’t sure. What stranger had asked him that (because that’s what you were, a stranger, someone he talked to one night and hadn’t seen since), asked him what he wanted instead of just taking what they wanted from him, using him for his status, his popularity, his looks?

So he had to think about it. And his answer wasn’t exactly satisfactory.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly, hesitantly, softly. “Maybe…a friend.”

Because, in the end, wasn’t that what he lost the most when he lost Suguru?

Your lips turned up at the corners, just slightly. The expression was gentle, like you were afraid to shatter him. He almost scoffed, almost told you that he wasn’t fragile, that he was the strongest fighter of his age, that he could face fearsome opponents and surely could face whatever you had to say to him.

Whatever rejection you had on your lips.

But you always surprised him. You, with your soft expression and gentle smile, nodded and said, “A friend sounds nice.”

Satoru blinked at you, surprised by your response. Was that really all you could want from him? Would that make you happy, would that be enough to placate you?

He couldn’t help but ask, just to confirm. “Really?” He didn’t sound convinced.

You just smiled a little wider and nodded. “Sure. I think you’re kind of cool, though I’ll deny it if you ever let the secret slip.” And you winked, and Satoru couldn’t help the big smile that curved his lips.

Oh, to have a friend.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

And so the five of you became close. You had hang-out nights nearly every weekend, and once a month you went out to the bars and clubs, getting trashed and having raucous fun. Satoru almost felt like himself again when you were all together, but then, when the nights fell quiet and he was alone again, he couldn’t shake the terrible fear that he was replacing the one person who meant so much to him.

He was starting to forget the sound of his voice. The distinct orchid purple of his eyes.

But then, every time he heard your laugh, he felt that same spike of joy, that same lightness in his heart, and he’d do anything to feel that way again.

Summer slowly started to bleed into autumn, the leaves turning from bright green to the faintest tinges of yellow. And Satoru was scared, terrified, because he couldn’t imagine losing this, this connection to the four of you that he forged. He couldn’t imagine going back to the way things were, the empty loneliness that his mourning sent him into.

So, when the weekends together didn’t stop, he was overjoyed.

It wasn’t until the leaves changed from yellow to orange and red and started to fall that plans began to change.

“I told you,” Utahime said indignantly, words slurring slightly around the rim of the glass in her hand, “I don’t like scary movies!”

You and Satoru both groaned, throwing your hands up in the air. It wasn’t that big a deal if Utahime didn’t like horror movies; you could’ve easily outnumbered her with your votes for the night. But you and Satoru aimed for the stars this Halloween season, and you wanted to have scary movie marathons every weekend.

Neither Nanami nor Shoko would support your ideas.

And so, while the three of them stole the remote and started scrolling through movies, you and Satoru looked at each other and grinned.

“Horror movies,” you said, holding out your hand. “Every night of October.”

He held his hand out, too. “Your place or mine?”

“We can share.”

“Sounds good. BYOB.”

“Deal.”

You shook on it.

And so began your spooky season celebration, during which you watched the scary movies no one else wanted to watch with you. You traded off every few days between watching at your apartment and his, making snacks and bringing your own drinks.

The first night, you revealed a fact more horrifying than any of the films you were set to watch: you’d never seen most of the cult classics, the best of the best. He gaped at you for a moment, and then doubled down on your agreement.

You weren’t getting out of this without seeing every movie he could make you watch.

And as he ensured that you watched every masterpiece he could name, you started getting closer.

You started where you left off at your birthday party, sharing the sunny side of your lives. But as you watched The Shining and the Scream movies, you actually started to share some of the shadows.

It started with small things, like sharing stories of your bad days at work or fights you had with your parents. But it was enough, enough to slowly drop walls that took months, years to build.

Enough for, one day, Satoru to feel safe enough to tell you about his best friend, his other half. To tell you about Suguru, and how he lost him.

thanks for reading! -luna xx prev. chapter | next chapter