#damn time sure flies and I hate it

[bernardsbendystraws]

𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒 — 𝐂.𝐒.

Synopsis: Nick has been your best friend for so long, but you can’t seem to get a long with his brother—Chris. You try to mess with Chris and it backfires….badly….

Warnings: illegal street racing, stupid driving, tension, smut with so much plot it hurts, street racer Chris, BIG MASSIVE SHLONG CHRIS, size kink, bulge kink, dick-wad Chris, p n v, raw sex, riding (wink), and more....

A/N: THIS IS OVER 5.2K WORDS. THIS IS NAWT A QUICK READ. Now, get in the car bitches, we're getting HORNYYYYYY!!!!

With love and bigs tits, Rose

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“Hey, cute jeans!” I wave, my lips curling into a grin as I squint my eyes at him—Chris. He rolls his tongue, shaking his head as he stalks off further down the street. Ha. 

It’s one of those rare occurrences—I’m here—at his street race, for god knows what reason. 

All I ever do is mock him. In fact, that’s why I call him cute jeans. The first time Nick and I had shown up at one of these dumb things, Chris thought I was a stranger from behind—and my jeans? Damn. 

He had to be a real asshole and hit on me. 

That night was fun for more than one reason. It sparked something—something I didn’t know existed. 

After that, my teasing only got worse. Chris’s ego couldn’t handle staying silent, he always had something smart to say. 

“Come to watch me again, huh? Gonna record it for later, I bet,” Chris winks. My mouth snaps shut as I go to say something back. He’s already gone—not giving me a second to respond before shutting the door to his car and speeding down the road. 

Typical. 

It’s still bright out. The sun sinks lower into the horizon as more people crowd the deserted street by the minute. 

“Okay, let’s just take a couple more pics and then we’ll go. I know you hate this,” Nick huffs, adjusting the leather jacket he’s wearing—the same coat that inspired this whole photoshoot. But you couldn’t blame him, he did look hot as fuck. 

Even if his looks resemble a certain idiot lurking nearby. 

Part of me is burning with spite. I hate letting Chris have the last word. But my brain sparks with an idea, a brilliant idea. 

How much would it cost him if I stayed around? 

Those stupid bets were always placed in his favor. No one could deny he was good—really good. He drove on the street like he owned it and he never even seemed nervous. 

“I kinda wanna stay—” My words are interrupted as I feel an arm rest down on my shoulders. I look over to see Beck, a girl I love seeing. 

She’s vibrant—especially with her signature red lip that seemed to draw all eyes to her. I always blossom off her confidence, loving to sit next to her when she showed true female power all with one swing of that stupid flag in the air. 

“How are ya, girlie? Haven’t seen you in months,” she puffs, hugging me a little bit closer before dropping her arm back to her side. 

I smile over at her. “Pretty good, you still stomping on egos?” I question, the glint of mischief in her eyes reflecting back as she gives me a slow nod. 

“Oh, always. Especially Chris—and it’s just for you.” She boops my nose as her words drag through the wind, the sound of tires screeching starting to muffle the chaotic hum of the crowd forming. 

Nick stares down at the camera lens, scrolling through the pictures I had taken of him—the reason why we were here, pretty much. “Actually, I think we got enough. But are you sure you wanna stay? I can come back and get you later—”

Beck brushes on Nick’s shoulder. She scrunches her nose at me while licking over her teeth. “I got her, Nick. Go home and post those pics, I’ll return her to you safely after tonight, don’t worry.” 

“Alright…” Nick sighs, reluctantly hugging me and wandering back towards his car to head home. 

“So why’d you wanna stay? Finally like cars?” Beck interrogates. 

I shake my head vigorously, laughing as she smiles at me. “Fuck no, I just—”

“You’re gonna mess with him, aren’t you?”

Her question rings through the air as a speeding car flies by—racers already warming up.

My eyes trace towards the track, seeing a sleek red sports car in the distance doing donuts. Of fucking course. Chris was always doing some dumb shit—illegal street racing or doing fucking donuts while the other racers were repeatedly drifting around the corners or fixing up their cars. 

He’s so cocky. 

I whisper back to her as I watch his car tires mark the pavement. “Damn right.”

___

Chris is already fed up—I can tell by the way his jaw clicks and his nostrils flare when I catch him in the corner of my eye. 

And I’m looking directly at him, a stupid smile covering my face as I put my money on the bet table. It’s twenty bucks, but it was twenty bucks I was willing to spend, or rather waste. Chris hasn’t lost in a while—honestly I’m not sure if he ever has. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Chris huffs, pulling me by the arm as he drags me to the side of the road by his car. 

He roughly shoves me. The feeling of his car pressed up against my backside leaves my eyes twinkling with pride—I’m really getting to him. Just like I planned.

I shrug. “Just placing my bets. Isn’t that what everyone does at these—”

“Why are you here? Why’re you–,” as his eyes stare into mine, his rough tone falls silent, his scowl curling into a smirk as he analyzes the subtle twitch of my nose. “Huh—just comin’ to watch, right?” 

I nod to his question, my pride sinking to my feet as I try to stand up tall. Chris presses his body against mine, making my weight lean against the car once more. I swallow thickly as his hand drops from my arm. 

What is he doing?

“You know, I meant it, right?” he tuts, his eyes tracing your figure with no shame. “These jeans… baby, they look so good on you.” His voice gets deeper, his head falling forward as his lips graze my ear. “-bet they’d look better off though, hm?”  

Fuck. 

I wish it didn’t make something inside the pit of my gut burn—but it did. God, it really fucking did. My heart is hammering against my chest, the pulse in my neck pounding in my ears as slight butterflies in my stomach make it harder to breathe. 

Shoving my body quickly, I manage to escape his hold. “Shut up. You’re such a cocky prick,” I spit, my arms folding across my chest as I try to keep a stern expression. 

Chris lets out a dry laugh, grinning like he’s already won. He takes a couple steps forward, letting his hand travel into the ends of my hair, “And yet, you love it. I can practically hear how nervous I’m makin’ you, it’s a real ego boost,” he husks. 

“You don’t make me—” My lips fall open further, motionless as his hand moves to my neck, his cold fingers brushing against my pulse as my eyes go wide. 

“Not nervous, huh…” His head leans towards the side as he stares all over my face. His eyes linger on my lips as I try to look away. 

But it’s impossible. Chris swerves his head, not letting my eyes leave his as he just stares at me. 

“Chris, stop—”

“Why? Do I make you too nervous?” he urges, licking over his teeth and letting his hands drop down to his sides. 

I feel a wave of heat caress up my spine and over my shoulders. “Don’t you have some stupid race to lose?” 

The taunt seems humorous to him, the last resolve of my dignity peeking through mumbled words as he wipes over his mouth. 

“Alright, alright. Guess I’ll go try to lose, but—I might need your help.” He shrugs, walking off with a wink. 

Uh oh. 

Help?

___

I can’t tell what the fuck is going through his brain. Part of me regrets staying—but another part of me is sickly invested in whatever this twisted game is. 

Nearly all bets had been placed. Stacks of money rested on the plastic table with a heavy bais—most were betting on Chris. 

It had to be at least two grand. 

He wouldn’t give up two grand for some petty argument with me, right? No—that would be insane. Absolutely bonkers. 

…right?

I watch as Beck stands in the middle of the dark street, the only glow coming from the blue streetlights above. The sun had set quickly, the stars and moon doing nothing compared to the headlights from all the cars.

My legs hurt. I didn’t realize I had been clenching every muscle for the entirety of the countdown to the actual race. The cold bleachers sting against my skin in the night air—maybe I would’ve dressed warmer if I thought I was gonna stay. But no—I was stuck shivering in jeans, a purple lace bra peeking from under my black top, and a letterman jacket. 

The front row gave the best view, but I had no one to shield the bitter breeze. But it was worth it. This way I got to sit by Beck the entire time. 

“Racers ready?” she shouts, her voice prominent over the reviving engines as she holds the flag in the air. 

Chris is on the side closer to me, his boyish smile apparent as I stare at the side of his face. The other guy was one of the better ones—the bets had some sort of hope in him, a large stack of bills showing that he had a decent amount of skill. 

My mouth waters as I see Chris run a hand through his hair, his head turning and his eyes catching mine. Holy fuck. He looks absolutely dreamy—there’s not an ounce of anxiety, pure confidence radiating from him. 

And it makes it so hard to look away. 

“Wait, I got one more bet I gotta place,” Chris announces. 

What?

My brows furrow, my face scrunching as I watch Beck relax the flag back down to her side. “Make it quick.” 

Chris nods at her words, my stomach flutters as he stares directly back at me, leaning his head out his window while licking over his lips. “Wanna make a bet, sweetheart?” he asks. 

I look around me, my shoulder sinking slightly as I take in the amount of people staring at me. 

He’s holding up the race to embarass me. Fuck. 

As I stare back at him with squinted eyes, he clicks his tongue on the side of his mouth. “If I win, I get to take you for a drive. Deal?”

“What?” I exclaim, throwing my hand in the air as I motion to the bet table, “Why the hell would I agree to that—”

“You bet against me, remember?” he points. 

My lips smack shut, the lump in my throat gathering thicker as I try to swallow. “I’ll even give you the chance to make sure I lose a round. We gotta bet or not?” he questions, his eyes twinkling as the blue lights illuminate his sharp features.  

If he had to lose one of the three rounds, that put more hope into the other racer. And if the other race won, I’d be more than content. Getting to call him a loser would definitely irk him more than anything—especially if it was true.

I hear boos chant around me. “Hurry up and race!” someone says from behind me. 

My body stiffens as I hear the chorus of disapproval. “Deal!” I shout, biting on my inner cheek. 

Chris looks at me with a daunting grin, his hand squeezing on the wheel as he nods. “A’right—ready. Sorry for the hold up.” 

Beck rolls her eyes, holding up the flag once more. 

“Racers ready?” she glares at Chris, continuing on as he revs his engine in response, “3—2—-1, GO—”

My heart drops as I watch the smoke from the tires scratching the street float around Beck. She saunters over, settling beside me as I lean forward, my pulse pounding in my ears as I watch them race side-by-side. 

As the car rounds the corner and starts nearing the finish line, Chris’s car zooms just slightly in front of the other vehicle, only seconds of a difference. 

I can’t wait to call him a fuckin loser. 

Beck walks back out, the flag raising in the air as both cars position once again. “Alright, race two. Ready, set—” 

“Hey!” 

Stomping her heels on the pavement, Beck scowls at Chris as he shouts towards my direction. I look over, my face burning as I feel the crowd stare down at me. 

I didn’t know much about racing, but I knew enough. This wasn’t normal—this was the prime way to piss people off. 

As I go to ask what he wants, Chris curls his finger, motioning for me to come closer. 

The fuck? 

I hesitantly stand up, my arms wrapped tightly around my torso as I walk up to his car window. Chris stares up at me with devious eyes. He obnoxiously chews a piece of gum, his jaw bone protruding with each movement. 

“What the fuck do you want?!” I whisper-yell, catching angry eyes boring onto me as I take a quick glance over my shoulder. 

Oh, these people are mad—fucking furious, even. 

“Kiss me.” 

I do a double take, my eyes blinky slowly as I watch him lick over the bottom ridges of his teeth, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel. 

“What?” I breathe out, a dry laugh heaving from my lips. 

He can’t be serious…

“However long you kiss me is however long I’ll wait to start drivin’. Didn’t you want me to lose? C’mon pretty girl, you saw the bet table—use your head, alright? It’s just a kiss,” he taunts.

This is how he was gonna give me the chance to make him lose a round—I should’ve known. 

I shake my head, cringing as I hear the boo’s from the crowd get louder. 

“I’m startin’,” Beck says, holding up the flag. “3—”

“Yes or no? It’s up to you,” he shrugs, his eyes drawing over my face as my lips smack open and shut. 

“2—”

The noise of his engine revving makes my anxiety settle. This is my chance—my only chance at that. 

“Fuck it,” I murmur, taking a long stride towards him. 

“1—GO!” 

I crash my lips onto his, my hands on either side of his jaw. His lips meet mine with a hard urgency, the rhythm of my movement panicked and rushed. 

My breath hitches in my chest—I don’t know if it’s because I forgot to breathe or if it’s from the feeling of his hand traveling up and tangling around the back of my neck, pulling me impossibly closer as he slips his warm tongue into my mouth. 

I nearly forget everything, gasping for air as I pull back quickly, moaning as I feel his mouth hungrily chase mine. 

Never in my life had I been kissed like this—so passionately and rough. 

“Hey! This gotta be breakin’ some rules–”

Fuck. 

The person yelling from the crow makes me pull back into reality. I stand up, watching as Chris slowly flutters his eyes open at me with a grin so cocky my hand twitches with the urge to slap him. 

Why did that feel so… good? 

Before anyone can say a thing, the other car slowly halts back to the starting line. 

Had we really been kissing that long? 

My fingers mindlessly float up to my tingling lips, my head feeling lighter as the surroundings start to spin a bit. It’s like he put some drug in his mouth that immediately became addicting. I want more. 

“See? I kept my word,” Chris points out, “Now—you gonna keep your word if I win? Lemme take you for a drive?” I swallow thickly, nodding slowly. “Good. Now go sit down and cheer for me real loud, alright?” 

I don’t have time to respond before Beck interrupts with the same question, starting to count down. I quickly stumble back towards the bleachers, a sigh of relief pushing through my lips as my head bobbles between my shoulders while I sit down. 

The loud cars barely register in my brain. All I can focus on is how light everything feels, how my lips are swollen and pulsing. 

“C’MON!!!” 

Chants behind me draw my attention back to the road. What the fuck? It’s not even close—Chris is speeding around the corners way smoother than the first round, almost as if he had been���

Oh fuck.

He was holding back. 

I tried to mess with him and he played me with ease. 

Part of me should be mad as he races near the finish line—but all I feel is excitement—anticipation. 

My teeth clench into my lower lip as I watch him storm past the line, not even waiting for the other racer to finish before stepping out of his car and walking over. 

Is he…?

My eyes bulge as he walks in front of me, holding his hand out as an offer. “C’mon, you promised, yeah?” he urges. 

I nod slowly, sliding my hand in his. He drags me to his car, opening the passenger door and shutting it after I climb in. 

“Chris! The money—”

Beck’s words fall on deaf ears as Chris slides into the driver seat, pressing his foot on the gas hard. 

“You didn’t even get the money—what’re we doing?” I ask, looking behind my shoulder to see a crowd of people turned to our direction as we speed off further down the road. 

“You know, it’s not nice to try and tick me off,” he huffs, quickly glancing at me with a harsh stare. 

Oh.

Oh.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ abou–”

Chris lets out a vocal sound of disbelief, cutting me off, “Yeah, you do. Fuckin—bettin’ against me, tryna get me to lose and shit. For what? Don’t have a boyfriend to give you any attention, huh?” he asks, his hand reaching over and grasping onto my thigh. 

He knows I don’t have a boyfriend—I know he’s aware of that fact. 

I stare down at his large hand squeezing my jean-clad leg. Something about his rough grip makes me shift in my seat, my thighs clutching together as I feel a wave of warmth settle into the pit of my stomach. 

“You like my hand on your thigh, don’t you?” he says, smirking wider as I watch the blue streetlights cast a subtle glow on his cheekbones. 

“I—”

“You like it. Admit it.” 

There’s no room to argue as he trails his hand up further, his fingers tracing dangerously high as he gives me a rough squeeze. Fuck his hands feel good on me. 

“Chris what’re you—”

“Do you know how it feels to constantly see you and know I can’t touch you?” he starts, the car rolling to a stop by the side of the road as he rushedly shifts gears to park, “-you’re always fuckin’ teasin’ me—bein’ a damn brat and I have to keep my hands to myself,” he grits, shaking his head as he stares down at me. 

I swallow thickly as I shift in the seat. “Chris, I–”

“No. None of that bullshit. You’re always tauntin’ me. Why’d you stay, hm? Why?” he questions, his tongue clicking on the roof of his mouth as his eyes deepen with intensity and dominance. 

Silence. I can’t fathom any words to say, my pulse drumming quicker as Chris pats his lap, adjusting his chair back. 

“Over here. Now.” 

“Chris, what are we doing?” I ask, hesitantly starting to climb over the center console. 

His hands wrap around the underside of my thighs, pulling me quickly while I let out a slight yelp as he sits me down in his lap. His hands are firm on either side of my hips. “I’m done playin’ these stupid fuckin’ games. I just—” 

The air is quiet. His eyes fall to my lips, his hands grasping just a little bit tighter around me. I can still feel the lingering sensation from his lips on mine earlier, the slight tingle still buzzing on the soft muscle as I let myself lean in closer. 

“We should stop,” Chris breathes, his tongue sliding between his lips as his eyes flicker up towards mine. 

“Why?” 

The question rolls off my lips with ease, my palms flattening against his chest as I lower my mouth to his neck, breathing over his pulse. 

“Because–” He lets out a hiss. I place my lips on his neck, sucking gently as I massage my hand over his shoulder. “Shit—we gotta stop, baby—this, this–” His jaw goes slack as I find his sweet spot. His hands dig into my hips, the slight bulge growing beneath me making my lips curl into a smile as I gently grind myself on top of him. 

“Why do you wanna stop, Chris?” I ask, nibbling the bottom of his ear, “What’s got you so tongue-tied, hm?” 

“You’re killin’ me,” he points, his gaze trained on me as he tangles his hand through my hair, pulling me back just enough to look at him, “-fuckin’ so annoying, so pretty and horrible, I just—I don’t know how much I can hold back–”

“Don’t,” I whisper, my hand gathering the material of his shirt in a fist as I watch him bite on his lower lip. His eyes trace over my face, one of his hands slowly tracing underneath my shirt, callusing beneath my bra. 

“Yeah? Don’t want me to hold back, hm?” he remarks, his hips adjusting in the slightest, my mouth falling open as I feel him rut against me through the fabric of our clothes. 

Fuck. I can’t take this. 

I lean forward, crashing my lips against his once more. Chris hums into my mouth. He furiously helps me peel off the bulky letterman jacket, the cold air feeling like relief compared to my burning skin. 

“Holy fuck, slow down, baby,” he husks, his hands falling to my hips as I shameless grind myself against his hard bulge. But I can’t get enough. “-’m not going anywhere—gonna stay and make you feel so good. Promise.” 

My heart drops as I feel his hand delicately caress over the purple lace covering my breasts. His nimble fingers trace around my hardened nub, a slight moan falling through my lips as I feel him smirk against me. 

“Take those cute jeans off, c’mon. Be a good girl for me—just this once, alright?” he grins. 

I nod slowly, awkwardly shifting as I pull down the denim while kicking off my shoes. Chris gets impatient, yanking the clothing to his own accord before planting me back on his lap, his jacket now discarded. 

“Holy fuck, look at these legs—would look so good wrapped around me,” he whispers, brushing my hair to the side as his lips graze my neck, “-while I fuck you deep and hard.” 

Oh my god. 

My mind is numb, every inch of my skin pulsing with a hot sensation of greed. Chris stares at me with lust, his hand moving in the corner of my eye. “Want me to touch you? Right….here,” he breathes, the pad of his finger resting directly over my bundle of nerves. 

I nod slowly, looking at him with hooded eyes as he starts to slowly circle the digit with a light, feathery touch. 

“More,” I moan, pulling his shirt into my fists as I watch him smile at me. 

“Yeah? What do you want, hm? Want my big dick in you? Want me to stretch you out and make you cum over and ov—

“Please,” I whisper, my hips moving for me as I struggle to stay still. 

Chris looks down, gesturing for me to take control. I hesitantly fumble with his jeans, pulling out his hard length as my mouth starts to water. 

Fuck. He’s big. No—he’s huge. 

As I go to pull my underwear to the side, Chris stops me, placing his hand around my wrist. 

“Uh-uh,” he tuts, “-take ‘em all the way off—wanna see all of you when I fuck your guts.” 

My thighs tense from his words, my hands quickly sliding the fabric down my thighs and discarding them without a single care. Chris pets over the top of my thighs, his eyes hungrily staring down between my legs. “Fuck—are you sure you want this? I…god, I can’t believe this is happening…”

I grab his hardness in my hand, spitting and dragging the lubricant up and down his shaft. Chris grits his teeth. His hands pinching into my sides as he lets out a deep groan. “You’re so big,” I whisper, mostly talking to myself. 

My eyes bulge as I feel Chris lift me with his hands on either side of my waist, placing me so my dripping entrance is directly aligned with his tip. His eyes bore into mine with dark passion. His jaw tense as he leans forward, kissing along my neck. 

“You gonna take it all f’me?” he dares, massaging my sides but keeping me from sinking down onto him. 

“Chris, please–”

“Gotta promise to take it all, sweetheart. Been teasin’ me all day already, I don’t need anymore of that, alright? Just—just gotta promise to let me stuff you full,” he purrs, sucking on the sensitive part of my neck just below my ear. 

“I promise, just—mmphf—” He slowly loosens his grip, letting me lower myself. I feel his tip nudge past my entrance, the stretch of his size making my body tense as my legs tighten to a halt. 

“Thaatt’s it, doin’ so good, just—just relax,” he praises, brushing my hair behind my ear, “-gotta be a good girl and keep your word again, yeah?”

“Y-yeah,” I stutter, slowly starting to take more of him. A broken cry falling through my lips as I feel my body stiffen again. 

Chris is patient. His eyes are trained on my face as his hands massage over my body. “You got it, c’mon—just—holy fuck,” his hand lingers down to my stomach, my top so messed up that it’s bunched over my breasts. He’s not just admiring the skin, he’s worshipping the bulge—the distinct imprint of him inside of me as I hover over the last bit of his length. 

“Look at that, sweetheart, I mean—fuck—” 

I shriek as I feel him lift his hips upward, burying himself inside of me completely. My hands grasp onto his shoulders, my eyes teary as I watch him bite on his lower lip. “God—such a good girl, takin’ me so good,” he compliments, slowly helping me as I start to ride him. 

I feel him reach deep inside of me, my eyes staring up at the ceiling of the car while my body tenses with a wave of pleasure collapsing over every beating pulse of my skin. This is even better than that damn kiss. I’ve never felt like this before. Not ever. It’s like an adrenaline rush, so overbearingly good that it feels addicting.  

“How’s that, baby, hm?” he hums, smiling down at the sight of his length plunging into my guts with each thrust as my movements quicken. 

“I–it’s, I—” 

What the fuck was I saying? 

Everything feels so light, so impossible. 

“That’s it, fuckkkkk—look so good ridin’ me like this, keep—-shit!” he seethes. My walls tighten around him, my nails digging into his shoulder through his shirt as he lifts his hips to meet my movements.

His lips parted with pure ecstasy. 

“Fuck, fuck, I,” My words are cut off my a moan. 

Chris laughs dryly, his grip becoming tighten as he really puts in the work—using me like a ragdoll as he furiously fucks himself into me. “Mmmm, th-ere,” he rasps, smiling as I let out small shrieks and moans between each snap of his hips. 

He’s so deep. I’d never felt this good in my life. There’s a buzzing in my ears, spots in my vision as I feel my body ruthlessly convulse with the overwhelming sensations. 

How the fuck is he so deep?

How the hell is he hitting against the perfect spot over and over and over—

“You cumming already?” 

His question pulls me back to reality. I nod dumbly, my mouth drawing open as I let out a long moan, my thighs quivering as I rock myself against his movement. 

“Oh—I—”

“My name, sweetheart, wanna hear my–my name, c’mon,” he urges, the squelches getting louder as I feel my body burn with euphoria. 

“Chris, Chris, I–I—my god,” I cry out, my hips slowly rolling to a stop as I feel him pause his motions. 

I don’t have time to react—nor to recover. I feel Chris hold me tightly, flipping me over so my back hits the seat—his cock brutal as he drills himself inside of me. 

“Take it, fuckin—fuckin’ take it,” he chants. 

My hands scramble into his hair. I pull his face into my neck, letting my teeth sink into his shoulder. Every rut of his hips leaves me breathless, my body seizing as I feel his hardness drive into me over and over again while his pelvis slaps against my clit. 

“I’m gonn—”

“Wait. Wait for me, I’m—’m so close, baby, so fuckin’ close—”

I clench around him, the buildup becoming too much as he continues to drown every inch of my body with pleasure. His desperate tone lingers in the air, his breaths shaking as his hips lose slight momentum. 

“Wher–-where do you—”

“In-inside, please, just—just let me cum,” I plea. 

Chris huffs, his thrusts becoming erratic and somehow deeper. “Cu-cum with me, I—shittttttttt, so fuckin’ good, so… so fuckin’ good,” he seethes, a warm sensation flooding inside of me as I feel my body convulse once more. 

My limbs fall lifelessly. Our motions fall lazier, eventually pausing to a halt. Chris gently removes himself, pulling me into his arms tightly and positioning back into the seat with me on his lap. 

His hand finds the back of my head as I lean onto his shoulder, petting through my hair as we both try to catch our breath. 

“Holy shit,” he whispers. I let out a light laugh, flinching as I feel my stomach burn from soreness. “You good there?” he asks. 

Nodding into the crook of his neck, I lift myself to stare at him once more. My eyes trace from his sweat ridden face, seeing a clear imprint of his hand on the fogged-up car window. My nose crinkles as I inhale deeply. “It smells like sex, I’m sorry,” I let out. 

Chris stares at me incredulously. “Sorry? That was fuckin’ perfect—better than the money if you ask me. I mean… I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep my hands to myself anymore,” he teases, flashing me a grin as he combs my hair behind my ear. 

My lips curl with excitement. “Oh really? You like takin’ me for rides?” 

He nods firmly, biting on his lower lip. “Mhm. And you seemed to really like ridin’.” 

I let out a light laugh, shrugging my shoulders before ruffling his hair playfully. “Only with you.”

Chris cocks an eyebrow at me, “Only me, huh?” I nod shyly, letting out a brief hum. His eyes linger on mine before falling back to my lips. “You do ride good. Maybe you should be the racer,” he taunts. 

“Maybe,” I whisper, “-maybe…” 

“Let’s get you back in those cute jeans though, yeah?” 

[sunshineandspencer]

Jogging

A/N: I’ve discovered that I, actually, despise angst. I hate reading it and I hate writing it, unless specifically asked for, my brain thinks only happy thoughts. On an unrelated note, I’m also a very emotional person and perhaps angst sets off my severe second-hand embarrassment and I’ve never finished an angst fic. So, from that unrelated note, have a finished fluffy fic :) 

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader.

Summary: Aaron is incredibly attractive at the best of times, but put him in sports gear and it’s like flies to honey. Which is an excellent cultivator of jealousy for his jogging partner, until she overhears him talking to another woman.

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: fluff, kind of established relationship (you’ll see)

I have redone the form for the taglist now that I’m apparently expanding from Criminal Minds

Going for a morning run with her more-than-a-friend-but-not-quite-labelled man, was fun. Aaron taught her some proper techniques, and she got a kiss whenever they completed a lap.

There is an issue, unfortunately, and it’s one she’s desperately trying not to blow out of proportion.

Aaron is attractive, devastatingly so, and because he occasionally runs ahead to finish a lap and wait for her to arrive so that he can greet her with a kiss, people don’t always know that they’re out together. Added with him in those damn workout clothes - that she would burn if she weren’t mentally stable - it’s no surprise to her anymore to see women jogging up to him.

They’re almost always gone by the time she makes it over to Aaron, who kisses her and immediately moves on to their next lap. She tries hard not to let the clawing jealousy show.

Due to JAck, and both of them agreeing not to move too quickly so that they don’t confuse him, they’d just decided on not labelling anything yet. So she isn’t really anything official to him, and can’t do all the things her jealous mind screams at her to do.

Like today, for example, Aaron had pressed a kiss to her cheek and sped up to get to the end of their lap. 

The minute he’s not beside another woman, someone else runs up to him.

She hears the fading introduction of “hi, I’m Beth, I see you around here pretty often” and her stomach clenches.

Once again, her pretty, not-boyfriend is getting hit on by a woman who can actually keep his pace. She hates it, and hates the burning hole in her chest even more.

Deciding, this time, she would actually speed up and join the conversation. Which will ultimately be worth the burst lungs and exertion-flushed face. Until she turns the corner and sees them still talking, any semblance of confidence withers.

When she hears her name on his lips, however, she dives behind the nearest tree. Realising he just gestured to where she should be coming from, and hoping neither of them had seen her practically rush for cover to avoid being seen. Pressing her back to the bark of the tree and listening closely to the conversation.

“-out with my girlfriend, actually, we run together.”

If she weren’t hiding behind a tree, from a random woman and the man that just called her his girlfriend, she’d be doing a happy dance by now. Choosing to press her hands to her chest as the burning hole closed up, victoriously grinning as ‘Beth’ jogged on feeling pretty dejected.

Once sure that Beth was gone, she turned to place her hands on the tree, bracing herself to look around it to try and spot Aaron, that daft smile still on her face. But he wasn’t there, and that observation came with a pair of hands landing on her hips and making her jump and spin around. Meeting Aaron’s smug grin as he gently pinned her to the tree by her hips.

“Are you spying on me now?”

Refusing to meet his gaze, she started looking all around them - as if searching for someone, and that only made his stupid grin wider.

“Should be careful Hotchner, wouldn’t want that girlfriend you mentioned to catch you pinning a girl to a tree.”

“Oh?” Knowing she’d heard, he now has no plans to try and keep up the facade that he hasn’t wanted her, officially, for weeks now. “And do you think she’d be upset if I kissed the woman I pinned to a tree?”

Giving a dramatic gasp, she used it to breathe in fully to answer, realising that her lungs aren’t really cooperating with her right now. And he used that as his chance to lean down to kiss her, loving the sparky feeling he gets from her every time. Siling against her lips as she melted against him.

Pulling back with a soft nip to her lips that had her chasing after him. Before realising what she was doing and resting back against the tree, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of getting what he wanted.

“I think she’d definitely hate the thought of you doing that to anyone else.”

“Ah, so she gets jealous?”

As if she were caught out, her eyes darted away from his as she pouted - from a profiling perspective, she really does have cute tells when she’s been caught - tugging at the hem of his shirt.

“She pleads the fifth.”

Thankfully, as she knows he actually loves any jokes that relate to his time as a lawyer, he laughs, leaning down to kiss her again, hand trailing away from her hip to lace their fingers together. Pulling back with a soft hum and another soft peck.

Swiping his thumb across her knuckles as he waited for her to open her eyes again, loving the little flush speckled across her features that obscured her freckles.

“Will she forgive me if I take her to get ice cream?”

“Definitely.”

Tugging her away from the tree, he brushes the flakes of bark from her hair and clothes, spending a little too much time ‘brushing off’ whatever was on her ass, until she smacks his hand away with a laugh. Leading the two of them back towards the car, deliberating what kind of ice cream ‘his girlfriend’ would like the most.

But as they get in, he gives her another smile and laces their hands over the centre console.

“You do know I’m calling you my girlfriend, right?”

Shaking her head, she leant in to kiss him again, pulling away to pat his cheek lightly. 

“Didn’t need to be a profiler for that one, love.”

“Oh, so you’re a profiler now?”

“Best watch it, I’m coming for your job next.

Laughing, he lets go of her hand to start up the car, already knowing exactly which ice cream place they were going to - and exactly what she would order. Not that she’s predictable in the slightest, but she always orders the exact same thing.

“First my heart, now my job? At this rate you’ll have my house by the end of the week.”

“That’s the plan!”

He’s going to marry this goddamn woman.

Want more?! Good!

taglist ( ˘ ³˘)♥ @peliides ║ @peachsodameg ║ @angelinajolie0213 ║ @jiggly-puff-12 ║ @khxna ║ @kennedy2156 ║ @trulycayla ║ @none-of-your-bullshit ║ @alexxavicry ║ @meg-black ║ @princess76179 ║ @chicken-fifi ║ @averyhotchner ║ @punkyghoulz ║ @anotherpassiongirl ║ @princessjax ║ @gghostwriter ║ @pear-1206 ║ @justyourusualash (if your tag is here and not working check out this reblog to see if any of it could hopefully help!!)

[notmorbid]

one little spark.

dialogue prompts from one little spark by ellie banks.

you little asshole.

everything is annoying today. everything.

i've always liked a little scorched earth.

i've never seen the point of going out with quiet dignity and grace.

you like problems.

whatever i do, i do right.

a combination of age and life have left me absolutely fuckless.

you don't need me to take care of you.

has anyone ever told you that you catch more flies with honey than vinegar?

being single is so damned weird.

i'm fond of crashing through caution tape.

if he doesn't take care of you, i'll hunt him down and kill him.

starting small is not in my wheelhouse.

you never seem afraid of being wrong.

how did you get here so fast?

always the dangerous choice.

you don't understand what you saw.

you deserve to have some closure.

sometimes i want to burn this place to the ground.

i'm not sure if it's a dream or a memory.

shut out what you can't control, and focus on what you can.

i try not to engage in wishful thinking, but sometimes it's hard.

maybe it's me. maybe it's that 'bad blood' shit.

if i can't trust you, i can't trust anything.

are you taking care of yourself?

what does 'normal' look like right now?

cheating in your head isn't a thing.

i want to figure out how to embrace what i have left.

do i have _____ on my face?

it's okay to feel like you don't know what you're doing. that's normal.

i don't feel like anything about me is very normal.

i keep grudges like other people keep cats.

sometimes you have to take steps forward, even if they're not in the shoes you would have chosen.

i couldn't stand letting you see me struggle.

everyone has secrets.

you weren't a mistake to me.

no one's ever looked at me like that but you.

it's okay to not know what you feel.

i want you to never blame yourself. for anything.

i was a little bitch to you, and i'm sorry.

why do people like uncertain women so much?

if you were happy, you wouldn't be here.

simmer down, kid.

this isn't a happy place for me.

guilt is different from shame.

what's the difference between god and a surgeon? god doesn't think he's a surgeon.

i always end up telling you my secrets.

how do you think that would've gone, you and me?

____ felt like the safe choice.

i know you can't rebuild from ashes, but you can build something new on top of them.

i would have been there for you, if you'd have let me.

did everyone know but me?

i'm married, not dead.

at least i say what needs saying.

it's not actually hard to be nice to you.

i don't have time for feelings. i've got shit to do.

you're kind of an asshole.

if you can't handle a woman scorned, don't scorn one.

life is a lot more complicated than anybody wants to believe.

i felt like a teenager when i saw you.

you're as afraid as i am.

why aren't you angry with me?

i want us to get to know each other again.

it has been a very long time since i've been on a date.

i don't know why anyone would choose to be single.

you fascinate me.

i don't have time to sit around and marinate in subtlety.

you've been kind of a secret fantasy of mine for a while now.

i always knew i was the main character. thank you for supporting my narcissism.

this will never be over, will it?

no matter what, i want to know you.

i'm going to pour wine.

i really like you. i wasn't supposed to.

i'm trying to just enjoy the moment, but i'm bad at it.

i didn't have words for it then.

i thought maybe things would improve with distance.

when did we finish having all our easy conversations?

you've never liked sunrises. you hate getting up early.

you're my girl. you always were.

for once in my life, i wanted to be the one who got picked.

i wanted to make you my enemy, but you aren't, are you?

you aren't innocent, but you aren't evil, either.

i'm never the bigger person. not for the hell of it.

i don't know if i knew anything about my own life.

i'm not sure what i'm remembering and what i'm dreaming.

the truth will come for you, if you don't come for it first.

'should' doesn't fix anything.

was i ever there for you, or did i just torture you?

i remember the first time you held my hand.

in my lowest moment, you kept me safe. from myself, from everything.

i tried not to think about it. i didn't tell anyone.

i'm really not mature enough for this.

timing has never really been my strong suit.

i'm just hormonal. it's making me weird.

i wanted to make sure that you were taken care of.

don't ask questions you don't want the answers to.

i want to be as strong as you are. that's all i want.

i don't see a way forward without you, one way or the other.

you made my life here not hell.

you can be sorry and still forgive yourself.

your conscience isn't my problem.

i'm not one to argue with fate.

you got your character arc, after all. good for you.

[neiptune]

surreal, but nice

cw: 7k wc, female reader, strangers to lovers, osamu doesn't exactly know how to handle one of the most famous music artists in japan suddenly popping in onigiri miya, inspired by notting hill, my sappy entry for the romcom collab hosted by @bloompompom! thank you @yellow-sword-lily, this fic is also a little yours :)

Miya Osamu is a creature of habit.

He gets up fairly early, showers, never leaves the small apartment without fixing himself a nutritious breakfast, more or less knows and is therefore prepared to what to expect from each particular day.

Downstairs there’s his beloved shop, a dormant creature he gently stirs from sleep each morning. When he doesn’t have to head to the market to select and order the freshest products, Osamu starts the day by contacting all his suppliers and arranging the deliveries. He then checks the inventory, reviews reservations, welcomes the only other chef to discuss any special preparations or new experiments. It’s not unusual for him to check his emails, monitor the website and official social media of the shop, the one thing he actually hates doing because he knows damn well one negative comment will ruin his day, especially since there’s nothing he can do to rectify mistakes made days, sometimes weeks before.

He has a chef, one dishwasher, three servers, two food delivery drivers and that’s about it. Osamu Miya is the owner, manager, host, executive chef, server and cashier of onigiri Miya. He juggles management skills, culinary talent and business acumen just perfectly. He’s prepared and knows exactly what each day has in store for him.

Until you happen.

Osamu has been cooking for almost three hours by the time the shop officially opens at 11AM. It’s not unusual for new faces to come in from time to time, despite his clientele being more or less established, but it is rare to hear the little door chime ring so soon. Except if his dumb brother happens to be in town.

But you’re not his dumb brother. You’re a new and yet strangely familiar face, even hidden behind thick sunglasses and a beret that one could deem more appropriate to a parisian getaway rather than a Kansai one.

“Morning” you offer a little bow, hesitant by the door “you’re open, right?”

“Uh, sure” he smiles, still a little uncertain after a moment of astonishment “I don’t often have clients for breakfast. What can I get ya?”

“I’ve been told this is the best onigiri shop in town. I’ll let you decide”

You seem to consider your options for a moment, then decide to sit at the closest empty table. Osamu would usually provide more than a nod: he’d make conversation, ask questions. Forming bonds with whoever visits his shop and trusts his food is his favorite part of the day, as well as a great activity to engage in while his hands are busy putting the rice into molds.

“Close that mouth” is the only thing he utters under his breath, glancing at the server who set your table “yer catching flies”

“But it’s her!” Hiro squeaks as silently as humanly possible “I’m gonna ask for an autograph”

“You will do no such thing”

“We could hang it in the shop!”

“Go help in the kitchen, Minato called in sick today. I’ll handle this”

Hiro disappears behind closed doors but only after batting his freakishly long lashes to his boss, a heartbreaking disappointed look on his face.

Osamu takes a deep breath and squeezes the molds together, an action executed as gently as possible to keep the fluffy texture that makes his onigiri the best in town.

He knows you, of course he knows you. Not only your face was on any available surface for the entirety of the previous summer (posters, billboards, magazine covers to advertise your first ever concert in the Koshien stadium), he’s also pretty sure in high school Atsumu had perpetually ruined the walls of their shared room with some crappy adhesive squares used to hang your poster.

Osamu is not really a dedicated listener, he knows a couple of your most famous songs and that your success is damn near planetary. You have a house in Tokyo but spend most of the year in America, California if he recalls correctly, and you tour across Europe as well. Yet, it’s been easy to pick what to serve you. The gourmet options such as salmon roe or roast beef are off the table: they don’t make new clients feel special. What new clients need is a taste of authenticity, something that reminds them of home, and don’t you look just like the kind of person who could use some of that?

Osamu decides on pickled plum, tuna mayo and bonito flakes. One serving usually consists of three onigiri but he can’t resist adding an extra treat for you, a tenmusu onigiri. He’s recently perfected the recipe with an egg-free tempura batter that is still thick enough to absorb his special sauce.

He hopes it’s not creepy that he lingers by your table after he brings your meal: celebrity or not, you’re a new client. And Osamu can’t resist observing the wander taking over customers who are unfamiliar with his kitchen, as soon as they take the first bite. He hopes you are no exception.

“If this is an onigiri” you lock eyes with him and smile, glorious, radiant “what the hell have I been eating until now?”

“Probably not the best in town” he grins, proud, a slight blush already coating his cheeks. Damn it, he’s tempted to turn the baseball cap once more, let the brim shield his awkwardness. But that would be totally lame.

“Is it a family business?”

“No. It’s just… mine”

You hum, busy chewing on another bite. Then you swallow and ask another question, invite him to sit eventually, then apologize because he’s probably busy (he is) and has things to do (he does) but this is never going to happen again for Osamu, because he’s not Atsumu. And so he sits and makes conversation like a normal human being that definitely isn’t obsessively dwelling on how beautiful you are, how different your voice sounds when you’re not singing, how much he’d hate for a client to come in and pop that bubble. Which is exactly what happens and he doesn’t like it one bit how you interrupt your chuckle, lower your head, hunch your shoulders in an attempt to hide. He doesn’t like that he has to excuse himself, call Hiro back form the kitchen, make conversation with Suzuki-san, listen while he describes all his latest hospital visits in horrifying detail.

You look at him from time to time, the quiet shop owner suddenly turned chatty sparks your curiosity. He’s skilled with his hands and genuinely interested in what the person who must be an habitué has to say. He’s attractive, too. Especially as he tries to disguise the occasional glances directed your way or the disappointment that flashes in his eyes when you get up and start collecting your things.

“Can I get the check, please?” you approach the counter, pretend not to notice his hesitation. Osamu decides against indulging in the “it’s on the house” cliche, opts for treating you as any other client. With the exception of a small discount you won’t even notice.

“That was the best breakfast I had in a while” you collect the receipt and put in your pocket.

“You should come back, then. To have another” Osamu cringes internally as soon as the words leave his mouth and Suzuki-san’s chuckle makes him want to dig a hole to disappear into. But you smile, despite probably having heard the corny line a million other times, and tell him that you just might.

It would’ve been perfect: a beautiful ending to a glorious encounter. It could’ve been. If only you didn’t turn around so abruptly, a small shriek echoing across the shop as you came face to face with Mai, the sudden sound and panic causing her to jump and spill the fresh iced tea from the jug in her hand all over your painfully clean, crisp, starched, white button down.

You both freeze, your mouth open in a silent scream, an horrified look in Mai’s eyes that would’ve been comical on literally any other occasion. Osamu wishes he would’ve went with the “it’s on the house” cliche.

“Oh my god! Oh god! It’s you! I mean, I’m sorry!” Mai’s voice comes out an octave too high “my god, I’m so sorry!”

“Well, this is great” you frantically grab a handful of napkins from the counter and attempt to dab the mess on your shirt “I have a meeting in half an hour!”

“Please, take my uniform! I will pay for the dry cleaning!”

“Actually” Osamu chimes in as politely as possible, trying his best not to let his anxiety get the best of him “don’t take this the wrong way but, uh, I live upstairs. You can get cleaned up and…”

“You’re kidding, right?” your astonished look is almost glacial. It makes him falter just slightly.

“Or ya can leave with a giant orange stain on yer wet, probably uncomfortably cold shirt?”

“Miya-san!” Mai’s hiss and your shocked expression make him think that sarcasm probably wasn’t a good idea. Osamu sighs.

“Listen, I’m really sorry. These are the keys, you can go on your own, I promise the bathroom’s clean”

You eye him for a few seconds more, then decide against grabbing the keys from his hand.

“I’m gonna need a change of clothes”

Osamu blinks a couple times, dumbfounded. His clothes? You’re asking to wear… his clothes?

“Sure! Yeah, sure. Come on” now his voice sounds uncharacteristically squeaky and he clears his throat as you follow him up the stairs, Suzuki-san’s good grief still ringing in his ears.

Thank god he cleaned the entire apartment just the day before. As much as he likes to brag about being the tidy twin, deep down he knows he’s just as messy as Atsumu.

Osamu tries hard not to look at you, leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed while he rummages in his drawers in search of something that could fit you. He shortly wonders if it’d be a good idea to offer a complementary bento box to make up for the disaster Mai caused.

“I’m genuinely sorry” he starts rambling because the silence is unbearable and some of Atsumu’s genes really do take over sometimes “the worst incident we ever had at the shop was my brother almost choking on his dinner. I had to perform the heimlich maneuver, it wasn’t pretty” god, where the hell are this clean, not embarrassing shirts?

“Guess this one will go down in history” your voice is less sharp now, which relieves him.

“Oh, no. I will never tell anyone about this, ever. Mai and Suzuki-san will have to sign an nda. A proper, legally binding one”

The laugh you offer sounds weirdly intimate in the small space of his bedroom, it makes the tips of his ears hot. Finally, he’s able to dig out a decent, basic shirt you accept by thanking him softly. When you lock yourself in the bathroom, Osamu rushes to the kitchen to tidy up the mess he’s left behind after that morning’s breakfast. No time to concentrate on how you’re actually, genuinely in his home, cleaning yourself in the same bathroom he showered in, without a shirt on.

No one’s ever going to believe him. Hell, he may not believe it himself by the end of the day.

“Hey” he jumps at your voice, sudden and closer than expected. You look good in his basic shirt, it suits you somehow. Did you shove your own in one of the bags you left by the door?

“Hey” Osamu says back and cringes for the millionth time “are ya hungry?”

You smile when he shuts his eyes for a second, right after the silly question leaves his mouth.

“Not hungry”

“Right. Of course. Thirsty? I have really good tea, from Shizuoka. And orange juice” he pauses for a second, then adds “or water”

Your smile grows, almost melts into a giggle. “Not thirsty either”

“Okay” he clears his throat “how about dessert? I made some mitarashi dango just yesterday”

“I have a meeting to attend”

“Oh. Sure, yeah, that makes sense” he wants to bash his head against the wall “I’ll walk you out. To downstairs” thank fuck ‘Tsumu isn’t there, he’d never let him live this down. Jesus.

You precede him to the door, gather your bags, then softly thank him for the shirt.

“Nice meeting you, Osamu” he nearly explodes when you say his name, no honorifics whatsoever. How do you even know? He hasn’t carried a name tag on his shirt for years.

“It was nice to meet you too” there’s no time to dwell on dumb, pointless questions “surreal, but nice”

He thinks if your smile could conjure waves, he’d gladly give up all the oxygen in his lungs and drown in them. Has someone ever looked as beautiful while smiling at him? He doesn’t think so. He can’t think. Not when you’re leaning closer, not when your arms are suddenly wrapped around his neck, not when you’re pressing your lips to his. Holy shit. You’re pressing your lips to his. And he’s forgotten how to breathe, let alone kiss. Osamu just freezes, like a marble statue, like a teenager who’s never touched a woman before. Right as he’s about to swallow the shock and fucking move, you’re already pulling away, eyes not leaving his despite the slight self-consciousness swarming in those irises.

And then you disappear, just like the dream he believed you were, all that’s left is an empty spot by the door and his heart slamming against a pathetically ill-equipped ribcage.

La Suite is one of the most luxurious hotels in the prefecture and Osamu feels out of place with the 30 onigiri order he’s carrying past a french restaurant and a traditional japanese one, all soft carpeting, dim lights and wide windows. So different from his.

He timidly explains that he’s there to deliver an order to a certain Bennet-san, who for some reason insisted he’d be the one bringing it to her hotel. They look at him funny but let him through and give the coordinates: top floor, superior double room. A woman meets him the second he steps out of the elevator and sternly asks him to follow her, a silly part of him wonders if he’s about to get murdered in one of the top 25 hotels in Japan. But then she knocks on a door right before swinging it open and he doesn’t even get to explain that he’s not supposed to get inside, she can take the bloody bag and he’ll be on his merry way, but once again Osamu fails to determine what the day holds in store for him.

Once more, it’s you. A less preppy version, one that seems so small in such a gigantic room, the sea breeze blowing from the terrace gracefully lifting up the hem of a tennis skirt you immediately fight to keep down as you promptly get up from the couch.

“Hi” he says, so dumbfounded he barely notices the door closing behind him.

“Miya-san” you bow, keep your eyes down, no sign of a smile he could by now deem familiar “I’m sorry for the trouble, I know the hotel is pretty far from the restaurant and you must be busy. This will only take a second”

Osamu’s brows furrow, confusion evident in the way he cocks his head. You don’t catch it, because your eyes are glued to the floor. “I wanted to apologize for my behavior. I don’t know what came over me, I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me”

His eyes soften as part of the tension leaves his shoulders. Truth is, Osamu is glad you’re apologizing: despite how beautiful and dreamy you may be, life is not quite a movie and he doesn’t exactly appreciate being blindsided by a stranger. He doesn’t really understand what made you think kissing him would be a good idea (was his awkardness interpreted the wrong way? Did his stare linger on your smile a second too long?) but he’s certain you meant no harm. A shitty person certainly wouldn’t take time out of her day to leave an autograph on a napkin, especially right after half a jug of iced tea was spilled on her shirt just minutes before. To Hiro, with love.

After a moment, he clears his throat. “Can ya look at me?”

You meet his gaze hesitantly, mouth a thin line of harsh disapproval directed at yourself. For a second, you remind him of someone and he almost breaks into a smile.

“Thank you for apologizing. We’re good”

“Are you certain?”

“Yeah!” he chuckles “you didn’t have to place such a big order”

You blink twice, then start nervously fiddling with your fingers “ah, actually I didn’t do it to… well, those onigiris are just really good. I wanted to take some extra ones with me”

“You’re leaving?” he doesn’t mean to sound disappointed, especially not while you’re so intentionally keeping your distance.

“Kinda. My record label rented a house in the countryside, I’ll spend most of the summer locked in, trying to finish my new album. I couldn’t do it in America, I missed being home but didn’t want to endure Tokyo’s chaos so I ended up picking Hyogo. Sorry, you didn’t ask to know all that” you chuckle tensely “we leave tomorrow and I didn’t want to go without apologizing first. That’s all. You may go now”

Osamu hums. “I may go? As in I’m excused?” he laughs when your painfully stoic expression melts into sheer horror.

“No! Of course not, I didn’t mean it like that!”

“You take yourself too seriously” he grins “I’m just messin’ with ya”

“That’s not very nice of you”

“Would you compare it to kissing a stranger out of the blue?”

“Oh god” you hide your overheated face in your hands “you said we’re good!”

“And we are” Osamu steps closer to gently place the bags still in his hands on the marble topped pedestal coffee table. It’s just fun to tease you, one of the many irritating habits he shares with his brother.

His brother. Osamu looks up, a risky desire taking shape in his head and threatening to spill over the tip of his tongue.

“I’m really sorry, Miya-san” you repeat and he doesn’t love that you’re now calling him that “uh, this is your shirt. Cleaned and ironed. Thank you for…”

“Whatcha doing tonight?”

You freeze, paper bag still in hand. “Uhm, nothing interesting”

“No packing?”

“My manager does that for me”

He chuckles. “Right. Chances you’d want to spend your last night in the city at an even less interesting birthday party?”

Osamu waits patiently while you weigh your options, recognizes the confusion in your hesitant stare but doesn’t quite understand why there’s a weary vibration to your voce when you accept, the slight disappointment that flashes across your features.

It’s only fair, you think as he parts from the room with a smile and the command to secure those onigiris in a fridge. If showing you off to his friends like some valuable conquest is the way he wants to even the score, you’re in no position to deny him. You’re the one at fault and you’ve been given a chance to make up for it by wearing the facade you wear best.

Then why does it feel so disheartening, this time?

When Shinsuke opens the door, he’s more surprised by your presence than the carefully wrapped gift in your hands. Not that he doubted Osamu: why send a message to the group chat telling everyone that a) he was bringing someone and b) they should’ve absolutely not behaved any differently than usual if not better (in bold), if he wasn’t actually going to show up with a plus one?

Still, a small part of him did wonder if Atsumu’s and Rintaro’s relentless teasing finally got the best of him. Shinsuke doesn’t think that his friend works too much or that he should start “looking around” before “his hair starts greying again only this once naturally”. He remembers Osamu rolling his eyes at his brother when he implied that at this rate he’s gonna have to tie the knot with the restaurant, only to then space out for most of the evening as everyone else found new topics to migrate toward.

In short, Shinsuke wondered if Osamu was going to come up with a last minute excuse to justify the empty spot next to him at the table. But it seems that spot is going to be taken after all, by you nonetheless.

“Nice to meet you, Kita-san” you smile after Osamu introduces you by your name and nothing else, not a wink, not even a subtle hint or a reasonable explanation “happy birthday”

Shinsuke accepts the gift with a polite thank you and he’s almost made sure you could preserve a nice, normal memory of stepping foot into his house for the first time, of course failing to consider the Hinata factor.

“Thank god, Osamu, I’m so hungry- holy shit! Is her your gift? I only brought a cap that says farm hair don’t care!” there’s a strange but seemingly friendly redhead looking at you with eyes so wide you fear they might roll out of their sockets.

“Shoyo, any chance you checked the chat today?” Osamu smiles at him widely but Kita recognizes the tension at the corners.

“What? Of course not, I was busy picking a cute gift” Hinata smiles too but his excitement is genuine “hello, nice to meet you! Please come in, you can help us set the table!”

You chuckle and meet Osamu’s horrified eyes for a second, his posture relaxes as your gentle reassurance puts him at ease. I’ll be in the other room, then. Leave it to Hinata to make a gigantic deal out of a special guest only to treat her as one of his buddies ten seconds later. You seemed comfortable, though, as one always feels whenever Shoyo happens to be around.

“Who is she?” Shinsuke doesn’t mean for his tone to be so conspiratorial but he keeps it low, just in case you might still hear them.

“A friend. Kinda. Ya wouldn’t believe me” Osamu takes his jacket off and hangs it by the door, then picks up the plethora of bags from the floor and makes his way into his friend’s kitchen.

“No, I mean… who is she? Why does Shoyo know her?” Shinsuke follows suit, intent on helping him distribute all the food he’s brought in the different plates he has prepared. Osamu shakes his initial surprise off with a chuckle.

“Only one of the most famous pop music artists in Japan”

Kita stills his movements for a second, then absorbs the new information with a simple nod. “Right. And you met her at the shop”

“How d’ya know?”

“Where else would you be meeting a pop music artist?”

“Don’t make it sound so obvious” Osamu pulls a face and Shinsuke’s eyes twinkle with mischief.

“Well, she’s here. With you. Is it like… a date?”

“No” the peremptory answer comes embarrassingly fast “it’s her last night in the city, she’s here because she didn’t have anything better planned”

“But you invited her”

“Yes”

“Because you like her”

“I don’t-” Osamu gestures vaguely with his hands “it’s not like that. ‘Tsumu used to have a poster of her face in our room, for fuck’s sake”

Kita hums. “So what you actually mean is it can’t be like that”

“I don’t see the difference”

“I do”

“Well-” a loud commotion Osamu has been trained for over two decades to instantly recognize as his brother’s voice, makes the words die in his throat. By the time him and Shinsuke return to the colorfully decorated living room (courtesy of an overly enthusiastic Hinata and one resigned Rintaro), Atsumu is already talking your ear off and seemingly invading your personal space multiple times as he follows you around the table you’re setting with Suna like a golden retriever on a sugar overload.

“Shoyo, you were supposed to keep her safe” Osamu glares at his brother and takes a mental note to scold Aran too, later. For snickering.

Hinata doesn’t get the chance to defend himself because of course Atsumu’s the only one who could outshine that intense excitement with his own.

“Samu! What the hell? If this is yer gift to Shin, what are ya plannin’ to get me exactly?”

“Can everyone stop assuming she’s here as a thing and not as a person?” it comes out harsher than intended and Osamu feels his face grow hot when all those present simply stare at him. When you stare at him.

Suna clears his throat.

“Cut him some slack, he came out of the bathroom and we could barely convince him she’s not a hallucination” you chuckle at that, which makes the ever stoic Rintaro look away with a faint blush blossoming on his pale cheeks.

“Wait” Atsumu looks at you, then at his brother and his brows become progressively furrowed “she’s here with you? As in, you invited her? And she said yes?”

Osamu wonders why he thought a simple admonishment in the group chat would be enough. He has half an idea of shoving an onigiri right into his brother’s loud mouth and not perform any maneuver whatsoever when the rice obstructs his airways.

“Actually, I wanted to come” you chime in so gently it takes a few moments for him to register the words “I’m leaving tomorrow and when Miya-san mentioned it was one of his friends’ birthday, I shamelessly asked if I could tag along. Hope I’m not a bother”

Kita is looking at you the same way Osamu is, puzzled. Hinata almost chokes on his coke and starts coughing profusely, so much that Aran has to lend him a napkin.

“A bother? No, of course not!” his nose might be on fire but by god, he physically cannot let you believe such nonsense for a second too long.

Atsumu’s mouth hangs wide open, brows still knit that make his expression overall hilarious “you make her call you Miya-san? Yikes, bro” he turns to you and makes a scene of slamming a hand on his chest “please, feel free to call me ‘Tsumu. I think we’re intimate enough by now”

“Given that we took five selfies and you made me sign my name on your abs, I also think we’re intimate enough” your grin seems genuine, which only startles Osamu more.

“Ya made her do what?” oh, there are probably not enough words in the japanese vocabulary for the way he’ll have to apologize at the end of the night.

“It’s fine, I didn’t mind” you shrug “but if I could ask everyone a small favor…”

“Sure, anything!” Atsumu’s interruption only makes your smile grow wider “I’d really like to celebrate Kita-san’s birthday like you’d normally do. Please don’t make a big deal out of me, it’s his night after all”

“She’s asking not to be treated like a circus act” Aran whispers to Hinata, who blinks his big brown eyes in quiet understanding.

“Done!” Atsumu’s fist hits his chest right where the heart is as he solemnly declares “you’re one of the boys now, consider yourself a pal”

“Thanks, ‘Tsumu” he tries to keep his composure but nearly implodes as you direct your attention to Shoyo “no, Hinata-san, this doesn’t mean we won’t be taking that picture I promised. Don’t worry” your wink is the prettiest, most wonderful thing he’s ever witnessed and thank fuck he’s done drinking that coke because his airways suddenly feel clogged.

Kita thinks this is already the most entertaining birthday he’s ever celebrated.

And celebrate his birthday you all do. Normally, as per your request. You sit between Rintaro and Osamu at dinner and masterfully divert the attention from yourself whenever the questions start piling up. The uno reverse technique works well: your curiosity feels flattering and everyone is happy to satisfy it. The questions you direct are extremely specific, your laugh echoes alongside everyone else’s and Osamu can’t help but think that, in some odd way, you fit in seamlessly. 

Keeping his eyes off of you isn’t but a strenuous fight with himself, it’d be lovely if looking would be the only activity he’d be allowed to engage in. It’s not hard to guess why hordes of fans and admirers are so enamoured: you’re such a natural. Polite, poised, funny, charismatic. Making you laugh feels like a privilege, having your brows raise in interest makes the story one’s recounting instantly fascinating. And yet you’re not doing any of that on purpose, he can tell. The one thing you’re being intentionally careful about is avoiding his gaze and making sure your arm doesn’t accidentally brush against his.

Osamu wants to ask himself why but also refuses to indulge in childish fantasies. What, he thought you liked him? Part of him believed you’d accepted to come to some stranger’s birthday party purely to spend an evening with him. Bullshit. Everyone in the world knows who you are and he simply owns an onigiri shop in Hyogo, one you happened to visit by sheer chance. He’s the guy you are so embarrassed to be seen with, you had to come up with a lie to justify your presence at the very same table that seems to adore you.

But when he jokingly throws a grain of rice at Aran, you hide your chuckle behind your hand. If he speaks, you always turn to look. Osamu doesn’t remember a social gathering where he tried to come up with just as many things to say, desperately conjuring genes that always weigh heavier in Atsumu. Unfortunately, the one person he could always count on, his dear friend and trusty supplier, decides his birthday night is the perfect occasion to stab him in the back.

“I’m sorry, I just need to ask” Kita refills your glass with fresh wine from across the table before retracting to his seat once more “your encounter with Osamu, how did it happen exactly?”

“Yeah, was his onigiri so good you wanted to-”

“Do not finish that sentence, Shoyo” Aran clears his throat as Suna, next to you, has a hard time swallowing his stir fry noodles.

“She heard my shop was the best in town, which it is, came to try it. That’s the story” Osamu wishes he could disappear into his kitchen as he often does when things at the restaurant get uncomfortable.

“I don’t buy it” Shinsuke shrugs “is that really the whole story?”

Kita’s knowing stare really hasn’t changed since high school and it seems you’re affected by it just as much as every other human. His eyes bore right into yours, trained to detect hesitation or even the hint of a lie, giving you no escape. Goddamn it, he’s still the team captain, there’s no running from him.

“Well” you gently swirl the glass in your hand, suddenly very much focused on the crimson liquid swooshing inside “I also kissed him”

This time someone does actually choke and, of course, it’s Atsumu. Right as Rintaro utters an ever quiet holy shit, he explodes in a coughing fit and Aran promptly strikes between his shoulder blades with the heel of his hand, perhaps with more force than needed. Thankfully, Atsumu manages to swallow his bite and, despite the tears threatening to run down his cheeks in all their shimmering glory, still conjures the energy needed to point an intimidating finger at his brother “ya bastard!”

“That’s a joke, right?” Hinata’s eyes have once again grown three sizes.

Kita doesn’t ask, the answer is written all over Osamu’s crimson red face. He was right, no one would’ve believed him.

“No, I really did” you take a sip from your glass and now everyone is looking at you like you’re some kind of alien. Except for Atsumu, who’s still glaring daggers at his brother.

“So this is… a date for you two?” Suna’s just as shocked as everyone else but seems to be the only person currently able to string words together.

“Oh, no” you brush the question off with a gracious wave of the hand “I just did it to thank him”

This time the silence stretches for a moment too long. Atsumu seems on the verge of passing out.

“You kissed him to thank him?” Kita cocks his head.

“Yeah. I mean, he was very kind. Have you never kissed someone to thank them?”

“Uh… no. I don’t think so”

“Really?”

“Do you…” Aran hopes to the gods that the words don’t come out the wrong way “do that often?”

“Aran” as much as Osamu wishes the earth could swallow him whole, he doesn’t want you to think his friends may be implying something they’re really not.

“I didn’t mean it like that!”

“It’s okay” you let our a nervous chuckle and because Osamu is sitting so close, he hears the shaky breath too “I know it was wrong. I tend to forget that’s not what normal people are used to. I apologized and now we’re good, right, Miya-san?” your eyes meet his and he feels his heart drop right into his stomach.

“Why are you used to that?” he asks instead of replying to your question and you just. Freeze.

“Yeah…” Hinata quietly chimes in “that doesn’t sound like something anyone should be used to”

For the first time, you don’t know how to respond. Osamu senses your panic, can read it in your eyes, but is too baffled to think of something smart or chivalrous to say.

“Holy shit, ya know what that means?” Atsumu slams both his hands on the table and both you and everyone else jump “it means she thinks I’m hot! In another life, I’d have a chance! Sorry, Shin, I know it’s yer birthday but I think this is the best night of my life!”

A quiet, astonished moment follows, then the table erupts in genuine laughter. You’re giggling so much you have to hold your stomach, Kita is shaking his head in resignation, Suna rolls his eyes with affection. Osamu settles for a smile as he relaxes against his chair once more. His brother may be loud and annoyingly inopportune, but his quiet support never once faltered throughout the years. One doesn’t need to be an old acquaintance to be taken under Miya Atsumu’s wing: if he senses as much as the hint of unease, his charismatic idiocy is summoned right away at the service of whoever may need it. Yet his loyalty remains unshakeable: Osamu knows that, in his stupid head, you’re already forbidden territory.

His mind is dizzy with confusion he doesn’t know how to properly address. As Kita blows out the candles on the cake he’s made, Osamu feels a wave of affection inundate his heart. He remembers that are nights like this that are worth being present, even if he has to get up at dawn or his sink is full of dirty dishes and he’s exhausted. Life only ever feels right when he’s with his friends or his family. It’s a routine he’s trained hard to get used to: work, work, work, carve out small moments to spend with those who come and go. It’s important for him to be there, when they come.

Osamu almost misses it, too focused on cleaning an extra plate or two in the kitchen, to make sure the birthday boy can get to relax once they leave. And then you call for him, a small crack in that poised facade of yours when his name almost slips out. You rush into the kitchen and urge him to hurry up, they’re already singing happy birthday to Kita-san. Come on, you’re missing it!

You probably wanted to go for his sleeve and found his hand instead, dragged him out of the room so quickly Osamu barely had the time to put the towel down. For some reason, once in the living room you don’t let go right away and neither does he. You only do so to clap with everyone else and even then it’s not entirely possible to establish who lets go first. Regardless, Osamu gives your hand a light squeeze and hopes you notice, despite there being no signs to indicate that.

You’re the first two people to excuse themselves: he refuses to let you go back to your hotel on your own, doesn’t give two shits that you have a driver or could well afford a cab because it’s a beautiful evening and Osamu is itching to have as little as ten minutes alone with you. He watches as you formally offer a hand to Suna and he grins as he shakes it, gently taking it in between his in a respectful attempt at suggesting that there’s no need to be so ceremonious.

You exchange quick hugs with everyone else, take the picture promised to Hinata, chuckle lightly when Atsumu timidly asks for a kiss on the cheek just because “it’s the american way of saying goodbye!” and of course you accomodate the request. Osamu is almost willing to bet you genuinely had fun but he also can’t seem to shake off the odd feeling suggesting you’ve somehow taken it upon yourself to just… appease everyone for the entire evening. Like some kind of duty. He doesn’t want you to think back to this evening like a task that had to be carried out.

“Oh my god, I cannot fucking believe it!” Atsumu’s shriek echoes loud and clear in the empty street  as soon as Kita shuts the door and you meet Osamu’s exasperated glare.

“I’m genuinely not sure what I should start apologizing for” he runs a hand through his brown hair and his stress makes you smile as you fall into a comfortable walking pace.

“I should start by thanking you for inviting me. Can’t remember the last time I had such a normal night”

“My friends are many things but I don’t know if they really fall into the normal category”

You laugh at that. “I think they’re really nice. It was fun. I didn’t know there were two of you”

Osamu grimaces, lightly shaking his head “good call, he’s the thing I should start apologizing for”

“I liked Atsumu” of course you did, don’t they all? “you’re lucky to have such good friends and a brother. Is it true what they say about weird connections us twinless mortals wouldn’t get?”

He sighs. As much as Osamu hates stereotypes and all the disadvantages that come with not being able to be his own person, the curse of always being considered nothing but part of a set, he knows the bond with Atsumu is just as rare and irreplaceable as people make it out to be.

“Well, I can pretty much always read his mind. But it’s not a twin thing, s’just an Atsumu thing” he shrugs “most transparent, honest person on earth”

“You’re both very kind” your observation strikes him. It hits the nail on the head: he does his best but it’s unusual for someone to notice ‘Tsumu’s selflessness right away.

“Could say the same about ya” he’s eager to direct the topic to the thing he’s really interested in, the one person who refused every bit of attention directed her way throughout the night “that tea collection must’ve costed a fortune. Shinsuke loves tea, yer manager picked well”

You hum, gaze focused on your feet. “Actually, I picked it”

Another thing Osamu has in common with his brother, the ability to royally fuck up in such a short amount of time.

“Oh, I didn’t-”

“It’s okay, happens all the time”

“What happens?”

“People assuming things” you’re not mad, there’s just a sad vibration to your voice. If he could punch himself in the face, he would.

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t be” Osamu hates the smile you toss at him. He hates it so much he stops in the middle of the sidewalk and watches you turn around, confusion flashing in your disenchanted eyes.

“There’s a pretty cool park ‘round the corner. How about a detour? If you’re not too tired”

You hum in agreement, ask him to lead the way. Careful, Osamu, you’d like to say. This same polite regard is what got me in trouble the first time.

The park, which is more of a garden really, is a slice of eden in the jungle that any city inevitably ends up feeling like. Lowlands, an abundance of irregular but colorful flowerbeds that seem to glow in the dark, the warm air of the evening saturated with the sweet scent of lime trees, a gravel path you both follow all the way to a small, wooden playground. It’s only natural to gravitate toward the swings, relish in the comfort of the stillness the evening offers. It always feels like the earth rotates slower, pace decelerating to give you more time to enjoy the things it’s hard to appreciate during your hectic days.

Osamu approaches the swing like an old friend, takes hold of the chains with both hands. He lightly pushes off the ground with his feet while pulling back, giving you a perfect view of his perfect profile.

“I don’t want to assume” he says quietly “so is it okay if I ask?”

“Yeah” you rest your head on the chain you’re holding, still looking at him who won’t look at you.

“Why did you tell ‘Tsumu you asked me to come tonight?” the actual question dies in his throat. Were you that embarrassed of being there with me?

“You seemed pretty self-conscious. I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable” and I guess that way, you got to seem cooler.

Osamu almost chokes on his own spit from how surprised he is by your answer. What the fuck.

“I wasn’t-” not for the reason you seem to believe “I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable!”

You smile, patiently waiting for the moment where he’ll finally turn to meet your gaze instead of persistently staring at his feet. “I don’t think I ever felt that comfortable in a room filled with men”

“That shouldn’t be an exceptional occurrence”

“Right. But it is”

He spends a few moments trying to come up with the right words, a handful of seconds spent with part of his brain wishing he could have a talk with all the men who made you feel unsafe. How many? Where, why? Are they the reason why Osamu wants to get so desperately close and yet keep a respectful distance, not to scare you off, not to be another name added to the list of creeps you surely hate?

“Why did you kiss me?” those are far from being the right, considerate words he was trying to summon, but they bubble up from his throat before he can stop them.

You hum, pensive “I don’t know. You’re pretty, you’re gentle, I thought t’was what you expected to happen. It’s what men usually expect in return”

“In return for what?” he fights the urge to keep his eyes down, confident that the darkness will conceal the redness of his cheeks. You think he’s pretty and the first thing his dumb brain is able to link the revelation to, is Atsumu. Shit, he was right, this means you do find him attractive as well.

“Anything, really” your chuckle is devoid of actual humor “I know this night was supposed to make up for it but I didn’t expect to have so much fun. Regardless, I hope we’re even now”

Osamu furrows his brows.

“Ya think that’s why I invited ya?”

“Why else?”

He almost laughs, incredulous. You hide that mistrust really well, Osamu has to give it you. It feels unfair that life has given someone who seemingly has everything, so many reasons to think you can only be seen as an empty shell, some trophy with the sole purpose of being flaunted.

“You said you were leaving. I didn’t like the idea of not seeing you again”

“Really?” your lips curl into a small smile “the weird girl who jumped you on your first meeting?”

“You’re weird” he concedes “and selfless. Intelligent. Maybe jokes are not your forte but, hey, ya get to look like that” your laugh compliments his really well and Osamu can’t help but think he’d like to sit in a park, in the middle of the night, and talk and laugh and be with you just once more.

You briefly wonder if the man sitting so close to you is aware of just how devastatingly charming he is. Part of you wishes he’d want to take you out on a proper date, let you meet his friends on different occasions, include a weird stranger in such a well balanced life. Part of you also knows you’d never want to ruin that for him. Not for someone like Osamu. People who are unfortunate enough to stumble across you are almost always harassed away, it’s a life you’re used to and can’t bring yourself to run from. It’s who you are and, most importantly, all you have. It’d be too dangerous for your heart to desire anything different.

But he’s looking at you as if you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, land emerged from the sea millions of years ago for his eyes only to experience such a sight. No one’s ever looked at you with such wonder.

“I don’t want to assume” he holds your gaze locked to his, swing dangling lightly as he leans closer “so is it okay if I ask?”

“Yes” you utter a little too breathlessly.

“Can I kiss ya?”

You hum in affirmation and close your eyes, heart beating a little faster than what you’re used to as you sense his proximity. He smells nice, radiates warmth and his soft hair tickles a little when his lips gently press to your cheek.

Osamu smiles when he catches a glimpse of disappointment flashing over your features, the first of many clues he wants to learn how to interpret correctly. The cracks in a facade he’d make his personal mission to tear down.

“I know you have to go away tomorrow” he gently moves a strand of hair away from your forehead “but I wondered, if you didn’t, whether you might let me see ya a little. Or a lot, maybe”

You lean into his touch, calloused fingertips still barely grazing your skin.

“A lot sounds good”

[hwaslayer]

wildfire (cs) | 11.5

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 0.8k

—chapter content/warnings: not much!! something a lil more tame lol, prob one of the 0.5s that takes place right after the chapter beforehand, i promise there is no ill intention behind what's happening here - they're both equally torn about everything as san's good friends/colleagues

namjoon: you got a minute to meet up today? sorry for the last minute request but it's kinda urgent.

jongho: sure. i'm wrapping up. can meet you in the next 15 mins?

namjoon: i'll come to you.

jongho: alright then, boss.

Jongho continues typing away at his desk, responding to all the emails that came in today while he was off doing interviews for the new open faculty role in the electrical engineering department. He makes a mental note to submit his review sheet for the first round of interviewees and to review the applications for the next round tomorrow. He doesn't realize how quick 15 minutes flies by until Namjoon is swinging his door open mid-email. He continues to type away, but his eyes shift to Namjoon's figure as he fixes his blazer and takes a seat with a loud sigh.

"Long day?" Jongho cracks a small smile, typing up the last few details before sending it off and shifting his attention to Namjoon in front of him.

"Kinda." He nods towards his computer. "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt or delay you from leaving."

"All good. Didn't really have plans, anyway. What's up? You seem a little flustered."

"Well, catching Yunho, Iseul and San arguing in a conference room wasn't exactly on my agenda for today."

"What?" Jongho cocks his head back a bit in disbelief, brows tightly knitted together as he tries to make sense of what he just heard. San had been giving him a bit of the story here and there and knowing Iseul, he wasn't exactly surprised this is how things were playing out.

He's just not sure why Iseul thinks it's her business to air this all out.

"You tell me."

"As much as I would love to help, I honestly have no idea what's going on.”

"Jongho."

"What? You know how Iseul is. She somehow still thinks she has a grip on San even after they've divorced and gone through all of that. Can't stand her, if you ask me."

"You don't have to tell me twice. But, why? Why is this a thing right now?"

"Beats me." Jongho tries to brush it off even though he can see the look on Namjoon's face, his eyes trying to study him like a damn book. He hates being in the middle because as much as he loves and supports his bestfriend, he also has the utmost respect for Namjoon and knows the guy will always be on their side regardless.

"That's the first in a very long time that I've seen San react that way at the happy hour event."

"Okay, to be fair, the guy was getting super disrespectful. I think any of us would've reacted in one way or another."

"Right, I agree. But, I know there's a story behind it. I know his anger was fueled by something else." Jongho sees the way Namjoon is going about this. He's prying for the answers he already knows, but he needs the confirmation and Jongho can give him that. 

It's just a matter of when.

"What if it was just a bad day?"

"Okay, you know what?" Joon leans onto the arm rest of the chair and gives him a look. "I'm just gonna go headfirst with it." Jongho cocks a brow up. "Is there something going on with San and his rotation student? Y/N specifically." He sighs.

"I figured."

"No, you knew." Namjoon chuckles a bit.

"I don't know. I really can't tell you because I don't know anything." Jongho says he knows nothing when he knows everything.

"Jongho." Joon repeats.

"Joon, swear." He says, even though he tries to sit as still as possible. Good thing Namjoon can't read his mind right now.

It started gradually before it took off completely. Jongho knows about the last minute meetings San has had to take, Jongho has seen the subtle glances, the subtle actions, the mood changes when you're around. Jongho remembers seeing you slip out of his hotel room very early that morning during the NAS conference. Jongho remembers seeing the polaroid slightly tip out of the wallet case mid-breakfast and seeing a tiny slip of your face in his peripherals. San quickly adjusted the polaroid and continued on like nothing, wishing for the best with that one.

And he doesn't have to be told to know you've been over multiple times. All the calls that have gone curt and short, the distraction easily laced in San's voice on the other line. He remembers the faint trace of your perfume in his home, the little post-it notes you've left on San's office desk.

Good thing Namjoon can't read his mind right now.

Cause, yes.

"I can hear your thoughts."

Well, shit.

"I don't know what to say."

"I need you to tell me yes or no, that's all. I need to make sure I'm going about this correctly even though I heard a lot today alone." Jongho sighs and sees how torn Namjoon is. They both are. They obviously want what's best for San, and they both want him to be happy. He is deserving of good, genuine love. He is deserving of genuine happiness because he always rides for the people he loves, goes the extra mile for them. He acknowledges and learns from his mistakes, he apologizes when he knows he's at fault.

He's deserving of all good.

So, they both hate that it has to come to this because it's not even you that's the problem. It's the situation, and they both don't know how to approach it with enough sensitivity and care.

Even though it's good to San, it doesn't necessarily mean it could be good for San.

"Yes."

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[omegaseverywhere]

Omega!Ghost who did not put down your file the moment Laswell said you would be joining Taskforce 141. Who took one look at your face, your rank, your skillset and felt his clit throb. Who, when he caught a whiff of your scent, had a panic attack in the bathroom because he couldn't stop slicking. Omega!Ghost who stalks behind you silently, staring. Sometimes, he's in the corner of the room. Sometimes, hes right behind you. Multiple times a day, you will turn around and he will be there, just looking at you. Locked in. Pupils dilated. He can't help it. He likes looking at you. (Gaz had to take you aside and tell you that no, Ghost isn't hunting you. He really isn't. I know...I know it feels like it but I promise-)

Omega!Ghost who says nothing to you for weeks after you meet. Not a damn thing. Not even when you both are with the other members of the taskforce. And because he doesn't say anything for a while, when he does - a little awkward compliment that reminds you of Shang from Mulan - you nearly shit yourself. Omega!Ghost who casually threatens anyone he hears may have a thing for you. Other Omegas. Betas. Alphas. Anyone can catch his hands. "You'll never find the body isn't a great threat. A better one would be "They'll be finding your body parts for months...and you'll be alive for at least one of them." (Price had to stop him because recruits were dropping like flies) Omega!Ghost who had a DNR tattoo and offical medical DNR papers to match but no longer does because of you. He believed no one would ever miss him. You proved him wrong, therefore he will now fight Death itself in your name if it comes to it. Omega!Ghost who has no idea how to court or show someone he's interested. Who also knows he's a giant tank of a man who can probably rip a person in half with his bare hands. Who decides that 'Alpha's like a strong mate right? S what Google says.' Who starts lifting random heavy objects when you are around for no reason.

Omega!Ghost who found out you took lunch in your car on Fridays when not on a mission and decided to join you once and then promptly exited the vehicle when you asked him why he decided to deadlift the fridge that morning. He was not prepared for that and he made a split second decision to leave immediately. (Soap is still laughing about it)

Omega!Ghost who is relieved when you start making moves. Who sinks into you so quickly, falling into his barely used Omega instincts to chirp and purr and submit. Who beams behind his mask when you order him food and drinks, when you leave him a scent-fused hoodie, when you train with him and push him to go harder...you aren't together but you will be and it makes him so happy.

Omega!Ghost who only agrees to go through a heat to purge his body if you are around to guard him. He isn't going to ask you to join him - because he isn't sure if either of you are ready for that - but he wants you to guard him. He trusts you to guard him. Keep him safe.

Omega!Ghost who, when asked if he was going to guard you during your rut, wondered why it was even a question. He was going to do that regardless. No one is getting to you. He'll rip people apart with his teeth if they think they have the balls to approach your rutting room.

Omega!Ghost who gets an incredibly thorough examination done just to see if he has any damage that would prevent him from having pups. He never thought about pups before but now that he's met an Alpha that he wouldn't mind having pups with, he needs to know. He frames the report that tells him that he's perfectly fertile.

Omega!Ghost whose purr is the loudest thing about him. Its very much giving motorcycle revving. He always hated it but it seemed to be the only thing that kept you stable when you were being evacuated, unconscious, and bleeding out from three separate bullet wounds so he doesn't think its so bad anymore.

Omega!Ghost who gets gooey when you scent the inside of his masks when he has to go on his own missions. Its grounding, having your scent nearby. Keeps him focused. Keeps him determined to not fuck anything up. Keeps him coming home.

Omega!Ghost who makes a horrifically embarrassing noise the moment you knot him for the first time and feeling grateful that you are too preoccupied with burying your fangs in his neck to claim him to notice. He does, however, notice the noise you make when he bites you back and teases you for it for the rest of your lives.

[itsmeyaspider]

Visual Love~

Yandere Baki Hanma x reader x Yandere Ohma Tokita

Triggers: yandere behavior, stalking, doxing

>>Art is not mine!! All credits go to the artist!<<

Finally! After a long time of waiting, your two favorite martial arts anime are getting their own videogame, it feels almost like Christmas! Once you'd seen the movie Baki Hanma vs Kengan Ashura, you couldn't wait anymore to play the game to the movie.

You were so pleased that you took the day off to play the game. Some people would call you crazy for making such a fuss over a mobile game, but you couldn't help it. You're just to happy that your favorite characters were represented in other media than only in manga or anime!

You stare at your phone when it's finally 9:00 am, with a huge smile on your face you go to the play store as you see the game, you immediately download it. Your excitement grows bigger and bigger as you decide to go to the kitchen to grab your favorite drink, to cross the long wait.

After a few minutes the game is downloaded, you press the app button as you get greeted with a red glowing screen. A huge white front appears with the 'Baki Hanma vs Kengan Ashura the mobile game'. A few seconds later your two favorite characters, Baki and Ohma also appear on the screen. You could feel how your heart starts to beat faster, as your excitement also grew. You finally press start and immediately the screen is filled with a battle arena. It was a good decision to stay at home today!

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A few hours go by as you can't stop playing this game! It has similarities to Mortal Kombat or Street Fighter, and each of the individual characters has their own signature move with their own special attacks. Well, since you only play as Ohma or Baki, you couldn't really tell what the other special attacks are like, but you honestly didn't care that much about it. You have to much fun winning online fights with those two, that you simply forgot the other ones.

Time flies by as you only now realize how hungry you are. It is already afternoon and because of the game you had forgotten to eat something. With a small sigh you are about to close the app as you notice something strange. A small window pops up.

Don't go....

Weird you think as you brush it off, maybe it is a bug which still needs to be fixed. You finally close the app as you leave your phone on the couch and head towards the kitchen to cook yourself something to eat.

After dinner you decide to take it easy, so you grab your phone as you head to your way to comfortable bed. You slowly start to lay down as you swipe through your contacts. Only now do you realize that the messages from your best friend's chat haven't shown to you. God this phone would kill you one day. You try to open the chat but before you could read it something weird again happened.

(B/f): Heyoooo! :3What's up?! Do you want to face-?¿?¿?¿

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error

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error

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What the fuck?? You roll with your (e/c) eyes in annoyance as the entire app freezes and crashes down. Surely that has to be a bad joke right?! Why does your phone hate you so much? You're trying to calm yourself down as suddenly another message pops up. At first you couldn't believe what you read there...was this even possible?! It takes you a short while to realize that this isn't a weird thought you had, infact this is real. A message from the BvK game pops up, something you didn't thought was ever possible, but maybe the creator added something like that to create more variety...

C'mon let's play! Don't leave us hanging here....

A cold shiver runs down your spine as you suddenly have an uneasy feeling in your stomach. Did someone manage to hack into your damn phone and try to scare you?! Or is your phone so old that it just starts to collapse. You clearly didn't know the answer right now. "Maybe I'm just to paranoid... I guess I need to calm down a bit." You tell yourself as you shrugg the weird feeling off, opening the app again. You spend the rest of the evening paying the game, you didn't have much else to do anyway. But you can't shake the strange feeling of that you're being watched.

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A few days passed and everything became a little more normal again. Maybe it was paranoia after all...You went to your job, did finish the work for today and then went home. You usually eat some food and then continue to play BvK. There is something about the game, what made you addicted. You just couldn't stop playing it. The strange thing is that whenever you wanted to try out other characters that wasn't Baki or Ohma, the whole game would freeze and a huge black screen would appear. Maybe another bug who didn't get fixed yet?

With a small sigh you start to bite your underlip as you stare at the character selection, of course Ohma and Baki will always have special places in your heart, you loved them both but you wanted to try out other characters too! Especially when (b/f) tells you how cool Kaolan or Jack is to play! It can't be that the game keeps crashing when you want to play someone else. Maybe this god damned bug is finally gone...

Your (e/c) eyes glide over the character selection as you take a few minutes to decide. "Then...hmm..I will take you Pickle!" You say to yourself as you sincerely hope that the game has finally been fixed. You click on the 'Fight' button, but before the loading screen could even show up the game starts to freeze and everything goes black. "Not again...oh come one..."

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Why are you doing this?!

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Are we not enough?!

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Don't you see it, we are meant to be together!

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This isn't funny (Y/n)...

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error

error

error

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You will be ours....

What the hell?!! Out of sheer reflex, you throw your phone against the wall as you watch in bewildered, how it hits the ground. What the fuck...? Did someone really try to talk to you? Where does this game know your god damn name?! The shock runs deep as you decide not to touch the phone anymore, there's clearly a virus on it because otherwise you can't explain it logical.

You try your best to calm yourself down, taking a few breaths in and out, but even that doesn't help much. You would love to call (b/f) right now and tell him everything about it, but you don't want to touch this cursed phone anymore. Besides, would (b/f) really believe you? After all, you have no proof about it and in the end (b/f) would think that you're just setting him up again.

With a small sigh, you go into your living room as you sit down on the couch. A new phone would probably be the only best solution, at least you hoped. Even if you didn't have a lot of money to buy such an expensive thing, you got no other choice. Maybe (b/f) could borrow you some money. Slowly you lie down on the couch as you notice how your eyelids get heavier and heavier, you let out a big yawn as you fall asleep.

----

The next few days went smoothly, thanks to the help of (b/f) who saved your ass with his money, you were able to buy a new phone. Everything went back to normal, your life got boring again but at least your phone didn't try to blackmail you. Just as you were about to take a shower, a message from (b/f) pops up, with a huge smile on your face you reach for your phone and swipe to the message.

(B/f): "Did you see the new Patch? Ahh they added the death row convicts and fucking Muteba!! (Y/n) you need to play it, I swear it makes so much fun."

You look hesitantly at the message, a cold shiver runs down your spine. Normally, you would have loved to try out the new characters, but something deep inside you tells you not to.

(Y/n): I don't know...what if the virus comes back and destroys also my new phone. :( I'm broke rn I can't effort another phone...

It took no less than a few seconds for another message to pop up.

(B/f): Oh c'mon it won't happen again. Maybe you were a little bit to careless and went to strange sites~����

You roll your eyes in annoyance as you read the teasing message, another sigh leaves your mouth as you head to the all to familiar play store and download the game again. Maybe (b/f) is right, you were a little bit careless. Besides, what are the chances thar something like this happens twice? The fact that other characters were finally added too made you so happy that you immediately go into your shower. You want to play the games again and this time without any weird coincidences.

Minutes pass and you find yourself on your couch where you start the game again. Just as you are greeted with the all known home screen, you have the feeling that you are being watched again. But this time it's worse that the last times... it's more intense and you almost feel like a small trapped animal that has been cornered by predators. You start to bite on your underlip as you shake off the unpleasant feeling as much as you can, you head straight to the battle arena where you find all the characters, even the new ones.

A small smile graces your lips as your eyes pass slowly through every character. Of course the option to play Baki or Ohma again would be there, but this time you want to play someone else. You know them both very well, their attacks and special moves, anything from it and so it's only logical to try someone new. Your eyes continue to wander around, as they suddenly stop. For a moment you rethink everything about who to really choose, but in the end you decide to play Doyle.

Exitment runs through your body, when the familiar loading screen appears in front of you, it only takes a few seconds as Hector stands in the fighting arena. Oh my god! A rush of relief runs through as you can finally enjoy this game. You play a few rounds with Hector, losing most of the time. Maybe you're not as good as you thought, just as Hector does his final pose, the screen goes black.

Two all too familiar faces walk towards you as they suddenly stop in the middle of your phone screen. Both fighter turn at the same time around, their almost dead eyes looking into yours, it feels like they are in the same room as you. What the hell?! This shit is fucking creepy... immediately you try to close the app, you keep pressing the cross but nothing happens. The eyes of the two fighters continue to penetrate you and it seems like as if they were very angry.

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Suddenly, a message appears above Ohma's head.

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You are really a brat, you know that?! Always trying to fight against us, as if we are some monsters...

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Another message pops up but this time above Baki's head.

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We have tried it in a good way but you didn't care at all...

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A huge message pops up above both their heads, as a small wicked smile spread their lips.

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Good for you that we found a way to break out of this game. You won't escape us any longer.

That is clearly been enough for you, your heart starts beating faster and faster and you couldn't trust your eyes what you actually read. What the fuck is this about?! This is crazy....You grab the phone as you throw it against the wall, you'd rather not have a phone anymore than play this fucking psycho game ever again!

Your thoughts are filled with the messages of the two characters, what do they mean when they wrote they've found a way to break out?! It doesn't make any sense at all!!! Baki and Ohma doesn't even exist... You are so distracted by your own thoughts that you only now notice a strange blue glow from your cell phone. Just as you're about to take a closer look, you suddenly see a fucking hand popping out.

What the fuck?!

This is clearly way to weird, what the hell is this?! Your thoughts are going crazy, your instinct is screaming at you to run! Run as fast as you can, and so you do. You run to your door as you only want to leave this damned apartment as quickly as possible. Your legs carry you and you immediately rush out of the floor towards the street. You don't know where you should run but it doesn't matter right now, the main thing is to get put of this place. You keep running and running, your (h/c) hair makes it impossible to see anything, the wind is to strong. But you need to run, you need to...

You want to cross the road, as you suddenly feel a very strong hand grab you, and pull you towards it. You feel yourself almost falling, but before you can feel the impact of the ground, you are grabbed again in a strong embrace. You slowly open your (e/c) eyes as you stare directly in another pair of brown eyes. The man before you has hazelnut brown, fluffy hair and a birthmark on his lips. You also couldn't ignore the muscles that adorn his body, even though he's wearing a T-shirt, he couldn't hide them. You body begins to tremble as you slowly realize who is standing in front of you. This can't be real...this isn't possible!!

A dark, raspy voice awakes you from your thoughts as another muscular, yet taller man appears behind Baki. This one has black, wavy hair and black eyes. "You don't really make it easy, do you?" Ohmas gaze rests on you like that of a beast. You try to free yourself from the much to strong grip, something what you never believed to be possible, but it was useless. The Hanma seems to he very amused by the sight. "Don't try it (Y/n). You know you have no chance."

Of course you know that you didn't have the slightest chance against even one if this two monsters, Ohma and Baki are superior to you in every way. But your pride can't let that happen! Surely your 14 year old fanfiction fan would have died that these two are standing infront of you, but this isn't a stupid fanfictiin. This is the cruel reality and the reality is that you get captured by two fictional characters just like that. "Let me go!" You stutter out, doing you best to sound as strong as possible.

Ohma tilts his head to the side with a big, almost sadistic smile on bis face. "And what if not? Will you try to fight us then?" You can't miss the mocking tone, but something inside you knows that he is right. You can't fight them... Suddenly you notice how one of Bakis hand grabs your chin, forces you to look at him. "You're ours now, don't try to make us ever angry again. You know what will happen if you do." Full of fear, you nod to his kind yet threatening words as your last hope is slowly fading away. Maybe you should have listened to your instinct...

[anonymousewrites]

A Not-So-Disastrous Romance (Book 2) Chapter Seven

Saiki Kusuo x Reader

Chapter Seven: Stranded

Summary: Saiki and (Y/N) continue to deal with the issues of being stranded (mostly created by their friends).

            “Okay. What am I going to do to save us?” Saiki stared at the ceiling of his room as he considered his options. He wasn’t going to sleep on the ground at the beach, so he’d teleported back to his house, his room, and his comfortable bed. For the night, he could stay there.

            “Can you teleport us to another island when they’re asleep so we’re found?” said (Y/N), yawning and rolling over on their side to face him.

            Saiki had brought them with him, of course. He was a good boyfriend and wasn’t going to abandon them.

            “It would be too weird,” said Saiki. He thought hard. “Telepathy won’t work, either. I’m too far from Japan. And I can’t explain how we got so far. Damn. I can’t do anything.”

            “We’ll figure out something,” said (Y/N), smiling and patting his shoulder.

            Saiki rolled on his side to face (Y/N). “We’ll have to be patient with those idiots.”

            “Probably,” said (Y/N), laughing. “But I’m also an idiot, so be patient with me.”

            “You’re smarter than any of them,” said Saiki.

            “Thanks, Kusuo,” said (Y/N), smiling softly. “And don’t worry, I’m here to help you. You’re not alone fixing this.”

            “I know.” He didn’t deserve them. “Thank you, (Y/N).”

            “No problem, Kusuo.” (Y/N) closed their eyes, reached out, and touched his hand. They drifted off in moments.

            Saiki looked down at his hand and laced his fingers with theirs. He closed his eyes. He could face anything as long as he had (Y/N).

l

            “My back hurts,” groaned Kuboyasu as the morning sun awoke everyone. (Saiki and (Y/N) had teleported back before people realized they were missing). “Thanks for keeping watch. Did a ship pass by?”

            “No, none went by.” He had made sure he wasn’t going to get everyone stuck here for longer before going home for the night.

            “I see,” said Kuboyasu. “So, no one has come after one day. That’s probably pretty bad.”

            “It’s all over,” said Kaidou, eyes wide and wild. “Help isn’t coming. The world has abandoned us. We’re going to have to live the rest of our lives here on this island.”

            (Y/N) watched him spiral and take out a marker. They tilted their head, and a little question-mark popped up by their head. “Huh?”

            “But we can’t survive here forever. Soon, we’ll run out of food, and things will become desperate.” Kaidou drew a scary face over his features. “We’ll start killing each other!”

            “This isn’t Lord of the Flies,” said Saiki.

            “Besides, that was written by a guy who hated kids,” chirped (Y/N). “So don’t worry, we’re not really going to end up doing that.”

            “Yes,” said Teruhashi. “Kaidou, don’t be so pessimistic!”

            “It’s only been a day,” agreed Kuboyasu.

            “One whole day! No one’s ever gonna come!” said Kaidou.

            Ever? That might not be so bad, thought Yumehara. She was enjoying the idea of settling down on the island with Kaidou and raising a family.

            Now is not the time for that, thought Saiki.

            “Anyway, let’s eat and go for a swim.” Nendou had his usual smile and no sign of distress at all.

            Because he’s an idiot.

            “Everyone is just saying whatever they want,” said Kuboyasu, frowning.

            “I’m worried about him, too,” said Teruhashi, looking to the side. Saiko was sitting on a rock and staring out to sea.

            “Yes,” agreed Kuboyasu. “Maybe he feels responsible for what happened.”

            “Maybe I should console him,” said Teruhashi. The two walked towards Saiko.

            “Hey, Saiko, come down and eat,” said Kuboyasu, smiling.

            “No, I’m good,” said Saiko.

            “You’re good?” (Y/N) tilted their head. “But you didn’t eat yesterday, either.”

            “The sinking wasn’t your fault,” said Kuboyasu. “You don’t need to punish yourself. Here, have some bread. No one cares.”

            “What are you talking about?” Saiko looked at them incredulously. “I would never eat a dirty poor man’s bread. If I had to eat scraps like that, I would rather die.”

            “So he’s going to starve to death? Alright,” said (Y/N), as bright as ever.

            “I don’t like it when you don’t like someone.” It gave Saiki the shivers.

            “Well, if Teruhashi fed it to me, I guess I would eat it,” continued Saiko.

            “What a jerk,” said Kuboyasu, walking away.

            Even Teruhashi, always kind and gentle and smiling to her fans, had narrowed her eyes. “Let’s just leave him be for a while.”

            “Okay! Let’s eat,” said Yumehara.

            “But Mera’s not here, yet,” said (Y/N), looking around.

            “You’re right,” said Yumehara, frowning.

            “That’s strange,” said Kaidou. “She’s usually the first one running when we mention food.”

            “Speaking of which, I heard someone while I was asleep,” said Teruhashi. She furrowed her brow. “I wonder if that was her.”

            “I guess Mera’s having a mental breakdown as well,” said Yumehara.

            Kaidou shivered grimly. “Already, the first victim.”

            “Don’t say such ominous things!” cried Teruhashi fearfully.

            The bushes rustled.

            “Maybe that’s her,” said (Y/N).

            SSSssss.

            “A snake!” screamed Yumehara.

            “Do something!” said Teruhashi, clutching Yumehara.

            “How should I know what to do?!” cried Kaidou, just as terrified.

            “Hiyah!” A spear hit the snake.

            “Wow!” exclaimed Kaidou.

            “A spear just came flying!” said Kuboyasu.

            “What great aim,” said (Y/N) appreciatively.

            “That’s what you notice?”

            “Who on earth is that?!” said Teruhashi, staring at the figure emerging from the forest.

            It was Mera dressed in a random assortment of clothes carrying a bow, arrow, and spear. It was like she had been living on the island for one year, not one day.

            “Mera? What’s with that getup?” said Kuboyasu.

            “She’s adapting well,” said (Y/N).

            “She’s lost her mind,” corrected Saiki.

            “Oh, wow, Mera,” said Kaidou. “I mean, it’s awesome, but still…”

            “Since Mera is poor, I guess she’s used to living in the wild,” said Yumehara.

            “You don’t have to go that far,” said Saiki.

            Mera lifted up a bag, and (Y/N) looked at it with a smile.

            “Is this for us?” said (Y/N).

            Mera nodded. She had lost the ability to speak with how deeply she had committed to her part.

            (Y/N) took the sack. “I think it’s food!” They smiled. “It’s an apology for eating the food in the pantry.”

            At least someone understands her.

            “She’s going back into the forest,” said Kuboyasu.

            “It seems our food problems are over,” said Kaidou.

            He, Teruhashi, and Yumehara had tears in their eyes. “Thank you, Mera!” We won’t let this food you worked hard to gather go to waste. They opened the sack to find suspicious-looking mushrooms. We will eat what we have left, first.

            Immediately, they walked to where the pantry had washed up. It was entirely empty.

            “What? The food is gone!” said Kuboyasu. “What happened? We still had a whole day’s worth!”

            “Did the animals take them?” said Kaidou.

            “…Mera was sorry for eating our food,” said Yumehara.

            “I thought she meant about the ship,” said (Y/N).

            “Maybe she was talking about this,” said Yumehara, wincing.

            Everyone groaned.

            “That brute! I’ll kill her!” said Kuboyasu.

            “Calm down, Aren!” Kaidou grabbed Kuboyasu. “You can’t beat her!”

            “He’s right! The forest is her turf!” said Yumehara.

            “ ‘Calm down?!’ ” exclaimed Kuboyasu. “We don’t have any food left!”

            “We do. We have food, don’t we?” said Kaidou. “The plants and mushrooms Mera picked.” In fact, Nendou was already eating them. “Hey!” Kaidou grabbed them. “Those are for everyone!”

            “Oh, sorry. I didn’t think anyone was going to eat them,” said Nendou. “Don’t worry. There’s still a bunch left.”

            Kaidou looked into the bag. Kubyasu and Yumehara peered over his shoulders. All of them held in their nausea and groaned. Clearly, only Nendou could digest such food.

            “Yare yare,” said Saiki at the dramatic moping.

            “Can you help us, Kusuo?” said (Y/N), smiling at him.

            “For you.”

            “That’s sweet, but you’re lying.” (Y/N) knew Saiki helped people because, fundamentally, he was a good person (and got dragged into things).

            “Hey, look!” Teruhashi cried, smiling widely. “Some food washed up on the beach!”

            (Y/N) grinned at Saiki. He softened at their gaze. The trouble was worth it.

            “Really?!” said everyone excitedly.

            “You’re right!” said Kaidou. “Look at these emergency rations!”

            “It’s like a dream,” said Kuboyasu. “But how?”

            “Isn’t it obvious?” said Kaidou. “It drifted here from Saiko’s ship.”

            “It’s a miracle!” said Yumehara.

            “No, it’s not,” said Saiki. He had spent all his money on the food.

            “I’ll pay you back,” whispered (Y/N).

            “Wait, we have canned goods but no can opener,” said Kaidou.

            “And cup noodles but no kettle,” said Kuboyasu.

            Not to worry.

            “A can opener and kettle!” said Kaidou excitedly. “It’s a miracle!”

            “Is this really by chance?” said Kuboyasu, but even he was grinning. “It’s got to be because God loves Teruhashi so much.”

            “Makes sense,” laughed (Y/N).

            “Hooray for Teruhashi!” said Yumehara.

            Saiki watched them laugh. No, it’s because I—care about my partner. “This is going to continue forever. We have to find a way off the island.”

            “As pleasant as it is here with the nice sun, the beach, and the water, I do miss home,” said (Y/N) cheerfully. They weren’t scared of being stuck there; they knew they’d find a way to help everyone with Saiki.

            “Oh, this wood floats on the water, doesn’t it?” said Nendou, holding up a plank of wood. “Which means, if we had a giant piece of wood, we would be able to ride it home, right?”

            “What, you mean build a raft?” said Kuboyasu.

            “How are we going to do that without any tools?” said Kaidou.

            “Would that—”

            Saiki shook his head as (Y/N) spoke. “It would be suicide.”

            “What if you teleported us when you got to open water?”

            Saiki literally jumped up. “That’s it!” If I teleport everyone now, they will realize it because the scenery will change. But they won’t notice it if I do it out there, in the ocean.

            “What is it?” said everyone, looking at Saiki.

            “Time to build a raft.”

            “Oh, look, a bunch of saws drifted ashore,” said (Y/N), gasping in “surprise.”

            “That’s enough for everyone! Tape, too,” said Yumehara.

            “Too many miracles,” said Kuboyasu.

            “Well, whatever, with these, we can build a raft,” said Nendou, shrugging.

            “No, we can’t,” said Kaidou. “Though we can build a raft with these, it’s too dangerous. In these desperate times, with these murder weapons, we’ll definitely end up killing each other! So I think we should throw these back in the ocean!”

            “Let’s get to work!” said (Y/N), completely moving on from the threats of doom.

            The group did, with Nendou and Kuboyasu leading the group in numbers of trees cut down (both had unreal strength). Saiki sat out because his super-strength would be too obvious. (Y/N) helped Yumehara and Teruhashi gather vines for rope.

            “Kaidou, we’ve got the vines,” said Yumehara.

            “Great. Put them over there,” said Kaidou. He and Saiki had collected empty water-bottles.

            “What’s with the water bottles?” said Yumehara.

            “If we use them, we need fewer logs,” said Kaidou.

            “Wow! What a great idea, Kaidou! You’re a genius!” Yumehara’s eyes shone.

            (Y/N) smiled. Kaidou was a funny boy most of the time, but it seemed all of his extra schooling from his mom meant that he was smart when it counted. And he was a good friend.

            Kaidou frowned. “But it’s going to take some time. I wish we had more people helping.” Mera was still in the woods, and Saiko was still sulking.

            “We should check on him. He’s barely eaten,” said Kuboyasu.

            “Do we have to?” said (Y/N).

            “We can’t leave him,” sighed Kaidou.

            He and Kuboyasu led the way towards the rock Saiko was perched on. They found him crouching over a little crab, trying to catch it.

            Kaidou deadpanned. “I knew you were hungry.”

            “What are you bums talking about?” cried Saiko defensively. “I’m not hungry at all!”

            “But you just tried to eat that crab,” said Kaidou.

            “No, I didn’t!” lied Saiko.

            “But you did—”

            “No!”

            “Saiko, we’re building a raft,” said (Y/N), interrupting.

            “What?” said Saiko. “I knew you guys were dumb, but this is your dumbest idea yet.”

            “Whatever. Just help us!” said Kaidou.

            “No. If you guys want to commit mass suicide, then go right ahead,” said Saiko proudly. “Help will come soon enough.”

            “Don’t talk like that.” Teruhashi stepped forward, and all the light of the angels shone from her. “Please? Build it with us.” She took Saiko’s hand. “Also, you should eat something. Everyone’s worried about you, so don’t be stubborn. Okay?”

            Saiko blushed brilliantly.

            “Hook, line, and sinker,” chirped (Y/N), and Saiki nodded.

            “Well…Okay, I guess so,” said Saiko nervously. “I shouldn’t be stubborn at a time like this.” His eyes narrowed. “But I refuse. One thing I hate is people telling me what to do. Now get away from me!”

            What? My charm didn’t work on him?! Teruhashi was deflating. People haven’t been paying attention to me since we came here.

            (Y/N) caught her as Teruhashi fell in shock and supported her as they trudged back to the raft.

            “Damn. He wouldn’t listen to us at all,” sighed Kaido.

            “My beauty is fading the longer we’re here,” sobbed Teruhashi.

            (Y/N) patted her on the shoulders. “You’ll shine brighter than ever when we make it back. Everyone is missing you, remember?” That restored some of Teruhashi’s glow.

            “I want to ask Mera next, but I have no idea where she could be,” said Kaido. His eyes widened. “Speaking of which, where’s the food we found this morning?”

            “Well, isn’t it in the pantry?” said Teruhashi.

            “Uh-oh,” said (Y/N).

            Kaidou ran forward and turned the corner. “What are you doing?!”

            Teruhashi and (Y/N) looked around the corner in confusion. Crouched in the pantry, Mera had a surprised look on her face.

            “Stop right there!” said Kaido.

            Like a nervous animal, Mera ran away. She had really gone to earth on the island.

            “I’ll never forgive you for this!”

            “Kaido! Wait,” said Teruhashi. “It’s alright. The food is safe. And on top of that, she gave us more. Don’t be so angry.”

            “Aww.” (Y/N) pouted as they saw Mera trembling behind a tree. “And she feels bad, too.”

            “Now I feel bad.” Kaidou picked up some food and offered it to Mera. “Come here, Mera, it’s alright.”

            “Come here, Mera.” Teruhashi smiled.

            Mera inched closer.

            “What are they doing?” asked Kuboyasu, emerging from the forest with Nendou.

            “Don’t be afraid, here you go,” said Teruhashi.

            “You can have some.” Kaidou held the food out to Mera.

            “It’s the amazon!” shouted Kuboyasu.

            Instantly, Mera ran into the bushes.

            “Why did you have to yell?!” said Kaidou.

            “But—”

            “We almost had her and you scared her off!” said Kaidou. “She’s very timid. It takes her a while to get used to people.”

            “Is Mera a pet?” said (Y/N), chuckling

            “Apparently.”

            “Okay…I’ll forgive her,” said Kuboyasu, sighing.

            “See, Mera? No one’s mad at you,” said Teruhashi. “Let’s eat a bit together.” She put the food down, and Mera hesitantly began to eat it.

            Mera let out a sigh. “Thank you!”

            “She spoke!” cried everyone.

            “She can speak,” said Saiki.

            “If you’re sorry, can you help us?” said Kuboyasu.

            “And put on your old clothes?” said (Y/N) cheerfully.

            “Okay,” agreed Mera.

            “Alright! Let’s do it!”

l

            When the sun set on the second day of being stranded, a bit of a raft had been built. Would it stay together? Who knew. But they at least done something to escape and survive.

            “Awesome!” said Kaidou. “It’s starting to look like a raft! We should be able to finish it tomorrow, don’t you think?”

            “Yes. Anyway, it’s getting dark now. That’s enough for today,” said Nendou.

            “Good idea. I can barely lift my arms,” said Kuboyasu.

            “Let’s go to bed,” yawned Kuboyasu.

            “Good idea,” said Teruhashi, turning and walking back towards the beach.

            (Y/N) lingered until they disappeared through the trees and looked Saiki. “You’re going to make sure the raft works, aren’t you?” Saiki nodded. (Y/N) smiled, leaned in, and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Kusuo.”

            Saiki smiled slightly as they kissed his cheek. As usual, they made the trouble worth it.

Taglist:

@elaemae

@painstakingly-juno

@characterreaderwriter

@melovepurple

@sleep-7372

@w0mank1sser

@geminigengar

@noodleryworld

@leonardo-dabitchy

@janezee12751275

@xenop0p

@ex160-blog1

@boogiemansbitch

@dmitrytherat

@yuriisclumsy

@sixxze

@constellationguy

@k03ume

@sweatyinternettrash

@paastaboi

@unorthodox-gob

@girlswhopanic

@h-i-g-h-w-a-y-t-o-h-e-l-l-l

@drowningfishy

@rinwho

@izzieg3987

@candylp

@jmclouds

@ittomain1

@justamina-blog

@newtscreatures347269

@digital-dumbass

@chronovala

@yappydoo

@mymomsdisappointment

@lvvcian

@kyliexreads

@b3bybunny

@sle3pyh3ad2

@snowy-violet

@jaguarthecat

@isaacdaknight

@newttheglue250

@thelameone101

@peqch-pie

@rai-xxx

[mistfallenmemes]

𝚃𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴

"Oh, I leave quite an impression."

"You're wonderin' why half his clothes went missin'? My body's where they're at."

"Now I'm gone but you're still layin' next to me."

"I heard you're back together."

"You'll just have to taste me when he's kissing you."

"If you want forever... and I bet you do."

"He's funny now? All his jokes hit different? Guess who he learned them from."

"Every time you close your eyes and feel his lips, you're feelin' mine."

"Every time you breathe his air, just know I was already there."

"You can have him if you like; I've been there, done that once or twice."

"I know I've been known to share."

𝙿𝙻𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝙿𝙻𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝙿𝙻𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙴

"I know I have good judgment."

"I know I have good taste."

"It's funny and it's ironic that only I feel that way."

"I promised 'em that you're different and everyone makes mistakes."

"I heard that you're an actor, so act like a stand-up guy."

"Whatever devil's inside you, don't let him out tonight."

"I tell them it's just your culture and everyone rolls their eyes."

"Please, please, please, don't prove I'm right."

"Don't bring me to tears when I just did my makeup so nice."

"Heartbreak is one thing, my ego's another."

"I beg you, don't embarrass me, motherfucker."

"Well, I have a fun idea, babe, maybe just stay inside?"

"I know you're cravin' some fresh air, but the ceiling fan is so nice."

"We could live so happily if no one knows that you're with me."

"Don't prove I'm right."

"Heartbreak is one thing, my ego's another. I beg you, don't embarrass me."

"If you wanna go and be stupid, don't do it in front of me."

"Don't make me hate you prolifically."

𝙶𝙾𝙾𝙳 𝙶𝚁𝙰𝙲𝙴𝚂

"When I love you, I'm sweet like an angel."

"I'm drawin' hearts 'round our names, and dreamin' of writing vows, rockin' cradles."

"Don't mistake my nice for naive"

"I don't waste a second, I know lots of guys."

"You do somethin' suspect, this cute ass bye-bye."

"Baby, you say you really like it; being mine?"

"Let me give you some advice."

"It's not that complicated."

"You should stay in my good graces."

"It's not that complicated. You should stay in my good graces."

"No one's more amazin' at turnin' lovin' into hatred."

"I'll tell the world you finish your... chores... prematurely."

"Break my heart and I swear I'm movin' on with your favorite athlete."

"I want you every second, don't need other guys."

"You do somethin' sus, kiss my cute ass bye."

"I won't give a fuck about you."

𝚂𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙿𝙴𝚂𝚃 𝚃𝙾𝙾𝙻

"I know you're not the sharpest tool in the shed."

"We had sex, I met your best friends!"

"A bird flies by and you forget."

"I don't hear a word til your guilt creeps in."

"You left me with a lot of shit to second-guess."

"Guess I'll waste another year on wonderin' if."

"If that was casual, then I'm an idiot."

"I'm lookin' for an answer in-between the lines."

"You're lyin' to yourself if you think we're fine."

"You're confused and I'm upset, but we never talk about it."

"All the silence just makes it worse."

"We never talk about how you found God at your ex's house."

"You always made sure that the phone was face-down."

"Seems like overnight, I'm just the bitch you hate now."

"You guilt-tripped me to open up to you!"

"We don't talk about it."

𝙲𝙾𝙸𝙽𝙲𝙸𝙳𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴

"The second I put my head on your chest, she knew."

"She's got a real sixth sense."

"Without her even being here, she's back in your life."

"Now she's in the same damn city on the same damn night, and you've lost all your common sense."

"What a coincidence."

"Last week, you didn't have any doubts. This week, you're holding space for her tongue in your mouth."

She's sending you some pictures, wearing less and less, trying to turn the past into the present tense."

"You told me the truth... minus seven percent."

"What a surprise, your phone just died."

"Your car drove itself from L.A. to her thighs?"

"... but who's by your side?"

"Damn it, she looks kinda like the girl you outgrew."

"At least that's what you said."

𝙱𝙴𝙳 𝙲𝙷𝙴𝙼

"I was in a sheer dress the day that we met."

"We were both in a rush."

"Your friend hit me up so we could connect."

"What are the odds?"

"And now the next thing I know..."

"I manifest that you're oversized... I digress."

"Who's the cute boy with the white jacket and the thick accent?"

"Maybe it's all in my head."

"But I bet we'd have really good bed chem."

"How you pick me up, pull 'em down, turn me 'round, oh, it just makes sense."

"How you talk so sweet when you're doing bad things, that's bed chem."

"How you're looking at me, yeah, I know what that means, and I'm obsessed."

"Are you free next week?"

"Come right on me... I mean camaraderie!"

"Said you're not in my time zone, but you wanna be."

"Where art thou? Why not uponeth me?"

"I see it in my mind, let's fulfill the prophecy."

"Who's the cute guy with the wide, blue eyes and the big, bad mmm?"

"I know I sound a bit redundant."

"It just makes sense."

"You talk so sweet when you're doing bad things."

"You're looking at me, yeah, I know what that means."

"And I bet we'd both arrive at the same time."

"And I bet the thermostat's set at six-nine."

"And I bet it's even better than in my head."

𝙴𝚂𝙿𝚁𝙴𝚂𝚂𝙾

"He's thinkin' 'bout me every night."

"Isn't that sweet?"

"I guess so."

"Say you can't sleep, baby, I know."

"I can't relate to desperation."

"My 'give a fucks' are on vacation."

"I got this one boy and he won't stop calling."

"When they act this way I know I got em'."

"Too bad your ex don't do it for ya."

"Walked in and dream came trued it for ya."

"Soft skin and I perfumed it for ya."

"I know I Mountain Dew it for ya."

"That morning coffee brewed it for ya."

"One touch and I brand newed it for ya."

"Holy shit."

"I'm working late..."

"He looks so cute wrapped around my finger."

"My twisted humor makes him laugh so often."

"My honey bee, come and get this pollen."

"Isn't that sweet?"

"I guess so."

𝙳𝚄𝙼𝙱 & 𝙿𝙾𝙴𝚃𝙸𝙲

"You're so dumb and poetic."

"It's just what I fall for, I like the aesthetic."

"Every self-help book, you've already read it."

"You cherry-pick lines like they're words you invented."

"You get a gold star for hi-brow manipulation."

"You try to come off like you're soft and well-spoken."

"You jack off to lyrics by Leonard Cohen."

"I don't think you understand."

"Just 'cause you talk like one, it doesn't make you a man."

"You're so sad there's no communication, but baby, you put us in this situation."

"You're running so fast from the hearts that you're breakin'."

"You're so empathetic, you'd make a great wife."

"I promise the mushrooms aren't changing your life."

"You crashed the car and abandoned the wreckage."

"You fuck with my head like it's some kind of fetish."

"Just 'cause you leave like one, it doesn't make you a man."

𝚂𝙻𝙸𝙼 𝙿𝙸𝙲𝙺𝙸𝙽𝚂

"Guess I'll end this life alone."

"I am not dramatic, these are just the thoughts that pass right through me."

"All the douchebags in my phone... if they're winning, I'm just losing."

"A boy who's jacked and kind. Can't find his ass to save my life."

"It's slim pickins."

"If I can't have the one I love, I guess it's you that I'll be kissin'."

"Since the good ones are deceased or taken, I'll just keep on moanin' and bitchin'."

"Jesus, what's a girl to do?"

"This boy doesn't even know the difference between "there", "their", and "they are"."

"He's naked in my room."

"God knows that he isn't livin' large."

"A boy who's nice, that breathes? I swear, he's nowhere to be seen."

"Since the good ones call their exes wasted, and since the Lord forgot my gay awakening, then I'll just be here in the kitchen."

𝙹𝚄𝙽𝙾

"I don't have to tell your hot ass a thing, you just get it."

"Whole package, babe, I like the way you fit."

"God bless your dad's genetics."

"You make me wanna make you fall in love."

"Late at night, I'm thinking 'bout you."

"Wanna try out my fuzzy pink handcuffs?"

"Oh, I hear you knockin', baby. Come on up."

"I know you want my touch for life

"If you love me right, then who knows? I might let you make me Juno."

"You know I just might let you lock me down tonight."

"One of me is cute, but two, though?"

"Give it to me, baby."

"I showed my friends, then we high-fived. Sorry if you feel objectified."

"I can't help myself, hormones are high."

"You give me more than just some butterflies."

"Wanna try out some freaky positions?"

"Have you ever tried this one?"

"If you love me right, then who knows?"

"I might let you make me Juno."

"Adore me."

"Hold me and explore me."

"Mark your territory."

"Tell me I'm the only one."

"Adore me, hold me and explore me."

"I'm so fucking horny."

𝙻𝙸𝙴 𝚃𝙾 𝙶𝙸𝚁𝙻𝚂

"Don't swear on your mom that it's the first drink that you've had in like a month."

"Don't say it was just an isolated incident that happened once."

"There's no need to pretend."

"I've never seen an ugly truth that I can't bend to something that looks better."

"I'm stupid, but I'm clever."

"I can make a shitshow look a whole lot like forever and ever."

"You don't have to lie to girls."

"If they like you, they'll just lie to themselves."

"You don't have to lie to girls. If they like you, they'll just lie to themselves."

"Don't I know it better than anyone else?"

"All of your best excuses don't stand a chance."

"It isn't ideal, but damn."

"You don't even have to try."

"You don't have to lift a finger."

"It's lucky for you I'm just like my mother."

"We love to read the cold, hard facts and swear they're incorrect."

"We love to mistake butterflies for cardiac arrest."

"You don't have to lie to girls. If they like you, they'll just lie to themselves. Don't I know it better than anyone else?"

"Girls will cry and girls will lie and girls will do it 'til they die for you."

"Girls will lose their goddamn minds for you."

𝙳𝙾𝙽'𝚃 𝚂𝙼𝙸𝙻𝙴

"Don't smile because it happened, baby, cry because it's over."

"You're supposed to think about me every time you hold her."

"My heart is heavy now, it's like a hundred pounds."

"It's falling faster than the way you love to shut me down."

"I think I need a shower."

"My friends are taking shots."

"You think it's happy hour, for me it's not."

"Don't smile because it happened."

"Cry because it's over."

"I want you to miss me."

"I stay in, and when the girls come home I want one of them to take my phone and lose your number."

"I don't wanna be tempted."

"You can fake it, but you know I know."

[gothghostiie]

I need Transmasc!141 to tie me up and fuck me like they hate me. I need Ghost to shove my face into his messy cunt and grind like he’s trying to kill me

hhh. yes.

cw: cnc, degrading, bondage, impact play (slapping, spanking, all that jazz), facesitting, strap ons, poly!141

mmm. they're so brutal when they want to be. usually they're happy with you just being passed around to eat pussy or ride straps, but who would they be to deny you when you ask them to step it up? after a long discussion of what, where, when, boundaries and safewords you settle on a little cnc, they just grab you whenever and have their fun with it.

it takes a while, they only do it after their next mission together. theyre all still on edge, adrenaline pumping through their veins - so they make a beeline to your quarters. the door flies open, youre suddenly being held down and tied up with ropes and zip ties, struggling until you realise whats happening. finally. you're being groped all over, clothes cut and ripped off, spanked wherever they can get some slaps in. god knows they prepared for this long ago, some quickly putting on their straps they stashed here a long time ago, others too busy with spreading your legs and playing with your throbbing sex.

price is the first one to shove his strap inside you, turning you on your back to make sure you can watch whats happening. he immediately ruts into you harshly, making you see stars from the sheer force of it, but god you wouldn't have it any other way. he talks dirty to you, telling you what a massive fucking slut you are for letting everyone use you like this. youre almost unable to listen over your own moans, especially when you see kyle kneel down behind price, knowing damn well hes helping his captain cum. prices moans get louder than they were anyway, kyles fingers brushing against your stuffed hole every now and then, fucking with your head as he acts like he might just add them too. soap isnt helping either, going down on your poor clit/cock and sucking it, swirling his tongue around the sensitive nerves. you're unable to even cum at this point, its too much, too good, youre overstimulated all over.

but of course its not done with this, the momemt price cums they switch places, with kyle now fucking you. his strap is longer, not stretching you out as much but brushing spots that make you howl. his hands dig into your thighs, a grin on his lips at the noises you're making - even though they're about to be muffled by ghost. he gets close, climbing on top of you and straddling your face briefly before properly sitting down. he's grinding his sopping cunt into your face roughly, rocking his hips while looking down at you, gritting his teeth. you can barely breathe, moans and cries vibrating against his pussy as gaz keeps fucking you, soap continuing his assault on your cock/clit. and you know damn well none of them are getting off of you until you tap out or pass out.

[cami040405]

Hello there! Can you do slashers (anyone you choose) x s/o who is a Cheshire Cat. Likes to smile a lot and pull pranks on their partners.

SLASHERS WITH A S/O WHO IS A CHESHIRE CAT

Summary: Slashers with a S/O who has the personality of the Cheshire Cat, playful, smart and plays pranks on them.

Includes: Bo Sinclair, Lester Sinclair, Charles Lee Ray (Chucky), Tiffany Valentine, Carrie White & Pearl (SEPARATE)

A/N: I loved writing this request, it's such a fun and creative idea, I loved it. Thank you for sending this request and for supporting me in writing.

Bo Sinclair

From the first second he saw you, Bo knew you were trouble. The kind of trouble that dances through broken glass and still has the audacity to smile as if you were innocence incarnate.

And he hates that.

He hates how you appear out of nowhere, with that crooked little smile, your eyes always shining with an inside joke. How you tilt your head, weaving ambiguous words, making sure to make Bo suspicious of everything you say.

“Why are you smiling?”

“Why are you frowning, Little Bo?”

“Little Bo.” That nickname. That damn nickname you invented just to irritate him. And it works.

He yells at you at least three times a day. Sometimes, for nothing. “DID YOU HIDE MY LIGHTER AGAIN?!”

And you, lying on the couch, chewing a candy as if the world were a movie: “No. But it’s a good place to start looking.”

You’ve already swapped his toothpaste for glitter. You’ve written “LITTLE BO’S A SWEETHEART” in lipstick on the hood of his truck. You’ve put bunny socks on the tools in the workshop. And yet, you always escape with a little twerk and a smile.

Bo, of course, is a pain in the ass. Explosive. But he couldn’t send you away.

Deep down — deep down — he loves the way you challenge everything he thinks he knows about control. Bo grew up with the need to dominate everything around him. That’s how he deals with life: with strength, anger and silence. And then you come along… someone who can’t be tamed. Who laughs at the storm. Who faces him without fear. And that leaves Bo… obsessed. But also scared. Because you like him. You see that look full of hurt, that constant anger… and you still smile. As if you see beyond.

He never says he misses you, but when you disappear for a few hours, Bo becomes a restless animal. He paces from one side to the other, trying to hide it. And when you finally show up, hanging upside down from a random door frame, saying “Boy, did you miss me?”… he explodes.

“DO YOU WANT TO GIVE ME A HEART ATTACK, IS THAT IT?!” 

But he doesn’t leave. And you know it. Over time, the insults change tone. They become quieter, more charged with feeling.

“You’re a demon…” he grumbles, running his hand over his forehead, then holding your face with a certain brutality, but without hurting you.

“…but you’re my demon.”

Bo is made of anger and pain. You are made of enigmas and laughter. And, somehow, you complete each other. He anchors you, you challenge him. And in the rare moments when he kisses you—hard, urgent, his fingers tightening around your waist as if you’re going to disappear—you smile.

And he whispers against your lips: “You’re hell with a pretty smile. But I don’t want to go to heaven anyway.”

.

Lester Sinclair

In the midst of carcasses, bones, tar and flies, Lester lives his life half dog, half tired. He is lonely by nature, half-wild animal, half-abandoned brat too much to expect any kind of affection. He was never the favorite. Not by anyone, not by anywhere. Until you show up.

Literally.

On a hot, muggy morning, with the sky low and the air smelling of recent death, Lester is in the woods, dragging an animal that no longer seems to belong to any species, when he hears a voice:

“Do you always treat the dead like this… or did they hitchhike?”

He jumps, startled. He looks back and there you are — standing on a fallen tree trunk, eyes shining like trouble beacons, a smile as sharp as a coyote’s. The way you speak is almost poetic, almost sarcastic, as if each sentence were half joke, half riddle.

He doesn’t understand. No one has ever spoken to him like that. No one appears out of nowhere just to laugh at him. And when he threatens to send you away with a curse word, you just disappear—as if you’ve been swallowed by the forest.

The first few days are a cycle of fright and fascination. You show up whenever you want. Sometimes you’re on the roof of his trailer, sometimes sitting on the wreckage of an old car, other times sleeping in the back of his truck wearing a cowboy hat you stole from him. And always smiling.

You tease Lester like you’re playing with a wolf cub: Take the matches out of his pocket and leave a plastic flower in their place, Turn the radio up to play children’s music at full volume, Paint Jonesy’s eyes with glitter.

He screams. He growls. He swears he’s going to leave you lost in the woods with vultures. But you just laugh. And deep down? He doesn’t want you to go.

Lester starts waiting for you. He won’t admit it, but life becomes lighter with your unpredictable presence. You see him. You see beyond the dirt, beyond the nicotine-stained teeth and the high-pitched laugh. You see Lester behind the trauma—the boy who never got enough love.

“You know you’re not trash, right?”

“Huh?”

“I like abandoned things. They have more stories. And you, Lester, are a whole book.”

He freezes. No one talks to him like that. No one says these things without mocking. But he means it. And then he smiles, as if to say: now deal with it.

On difficult days, when he feels rejected even by his own brothers, you show up with a blanket and an old radio. Turn on some soft music, rest your head on his shoulder, and just be there, existing. And for the first time in his life, Lester doesn’t have to explain himself. You understand.

“You could disappear whenever you wanted, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then why are you still here?”

“Because you still haven’t learned to smile like you deserve.”

And for the first time, he tries. He tries to smile back, half crookedly, half shakily. But you laugh as if it were the most beautiful thing in the world.

Love, for the two of you, is this: A noisy chaos in the middle of silence. A light touch between two broken existences. A mischief that ends in a hug.

Lester has never been one to have hope. But with you close by, smiling like a beautiful secret that only he understands... He begins to believe that maybe, just maybe, destiny hasn't forgotten about him completely.

.

Charles Lee Ray (Chucky)

Charles Lee Ray has always seen himself as the master of chaos. A charismatic sadist, too smart to be caught and too sick to be ignored. Inside that cursed doll body, he carries the soul of a killer who laughs at his own madness — but even he, the infamous Chucky, never imagined that one day he would find himself disconcerted.

You appeared like a mirage in the midst of the massacre: with a feline smile plastered on your face, eyes that shone with mischief, and a way of moving as if the world were just a board game where you played for fun.

At the very first meeting, Chucky tried to scare you by pulling out a knife.

You smiled. “Wow, a sharp blade. I was starting to think you just looked like a stuffed toy.” 

He was so confused that he forgot to stab you. Since then, you have become like two demonic children in a bloody playground. You would change the buttons on his clothes into doll eyes, put glitter on the blades, and put on puppet shows imitating his outbursts.

“CHARLES!” you would say, in a high-pitched voice. “You destroyed the kitchen again, you adorable psychopath!”

He would yell: “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” while laughing in the middle of his sentence.

But the scariest thing — and most attractive — was that, unlike anyone he had ever met, you were never intimidated. On the contrary: you would mock him even in his most intense moments. If he screamed, you would whisper with a little smile: “Does anyone need a hug, doll?”

If he murdered someone, you would clap your hands with ironic enthusiasm: “Bravo! Unique style! Reminds me of Van Gogh with a little knife!”

Chucky, used to manipulating and dominating, began to notice something strange: he liked being with you even when he wasn’t killing anyone. He loved your laugh. The way you hung from shelves, speaking in riddles. How you left cryptic messages written in lipstick on mirrors:

“You were good today, but I still doubt you have a soul…”

One day, after a failed (and hilarious) plan involving dynamite, ventriloquist dummies, and a kindergarten, Chucky exploded in anger.

“YOU’RE JUST DOING THIS TO DRIVE ME CRAZY!”

You tilted your head, that same smile etched on your lips. “But, Charles… you’re already crazy. I’m just here to decorate your insanity with glitter.”

He tried to fight. He tried to leave. But he couldn’t. Because, for the first time in his bloody existence, he found someone who didn’t want to change him. He just wanted to laugh with him. To play with the darkest parts of him—and find beauty in it. One night, as you watched the fire devour a failed hideout, the two of you sitting on a bench of burned dolls, he looked at you in silence.

And said, in an almost human tone:

“You’re a problem, doll.”

You smiled, that perfect curve of mystery.

“I’m your favorite problem.”

And Chucky? He laughed. Loudly, the way he only laughed when it was true. Because, at the end of the day, there is no better partner for a monster than another monster who knows how to smile while the world burns.

.

Tiffany Valentine

Tiffany’s love was always noisy. Explosions. Gunshots. Screams. Muffled moans. Kisses that tasted like blood and cheap lipstick. She knew how to deal with chaos, but it was always the predictable chaos of a man who was no good.

So imagine her surprise when she met you.

You didn’t come into her life like a broken door, like Chucky. You appeared subtly—like a spiral of cigarette smoke. A crooked smile, a mocking comment, a presence that made no sense to be there... but that never seemed out of place.

She was sitting in a disgusting bar, trying to forget yet another fight with Chucky. Drinking something strong, staring into space. And then you appeared on the bench next to her, wearing a purple velvet shirt, boots dirty with dirt, and a mischievous glint in your eyes.

“You have the laugh of a woman who has already killed someone she loved.” - You said, your eyes shining.

“And you look like someone who doesn’t know when to shut up.” She laughed out loud. A genuine laugh, for the first time in a long time.

You disappeared soon after, without warning. And showed up three days later at her bedroom window with stolen flowers and a bag of melted chocolates.

Being with you was like sleeping with a fun, naughty ghost. You would appear out of nowhere, sometimes under the bed, sometimes in the mirror, sometimes in the shower (just to see her reaction).

You left letters in her pockets with inside jokes. You hid knives. You swapped her lipstick for neon paint. And worst of all: she loved every second of it.

“You’re a glitter nightmare,” she said one night, watching you dance barefoot around the living room to David Bowie.

“And you’re a goddess of the underworld with a heart of melted marshmallow.”

Tiffany felt something strange:

You made her feel… weightless. No one had ever done that. Not even before she died. But there was a problem:

You never stayed.

You disappeared. Without reason. Without explanation. Like a dream that evaporates when you wake up. She loved you. But she also wanted to strangle you with her own pantyhose.

The last straw was when you showed up talking to a waitress at the bar — and made her laugh. The same laugh that Tiff thought was only hers. At the same moment, she got up from her chair, threw her glass on the floor and pulled you by the collar of your jacket to the alley.

“Are you mine or are you everyone's, huh?!”

“I’m the one who laughs the loudest at my jokes...” - You said that with a naughty little smile.

And Tiffany slapped you.

Then kissed you.

And then she threw you against the wall, anger and desire burning in her eyes. - “If you make me feel small again, I swear I’ll rip your tongue out with my teeth.”

“Promise?” - You smiled.

“Idiot!”

“But I’m your idiot...?”

She didn’t answer. She just smiled. Finally, someone was up to her hurricane.

What Tiffany loved (and hated) most about you was that, even with all that mischievous and slippery way… you saw her. Not as a doll. Not as an accessory for Chucky. But as a woman who had dreams, pain, open wounds.

And you, with your soft words and your surgical sarcasm, said:

“You are more than the blood you spilled, Tiff. You're a badly written poem, but irresistible.”

Those words stayed with her. Like bite marks. Like memories of a love that was both comfort and torment.

Tiff knew that you would never belong to anyone. That your freedom was part of your charm. But even so… she wanted you. She loved you to the limit of love and madness. And sometimes, that was enough. Maybe you would disappear one day and never come back.

But until then, you were hers.

Through the blood, the glitter, the laughter, and the danger—you were hers. And that, to a woman like Tiffany, was more romantic than any fairytale happy ending.

.

Carrie White

The first time Carrie saw you, with your sharp smile and cat-like eyes, was in the school hallway. You appear like smoke, leaning against the locker next to hers, even though she’s never seen you there before. Your uniform is a little disheveled, your eyes fixed on her as if you see much more than you should.

“You look like a storm about to dance.”

She blinks, startled. She runs away. And you just laugh—not mockingly, but as if you’ve just discovered a precious secret.

In the days that follow, you keep showing up. Never in the same place. Never in the same way. One day, you sit next to her in class and mutter riddles about cats, the sky, and flames. The next, you write sentences on the edges of her books in lilac pen:

“A flower that grows in concrete bleeds poetry. I saw you.”

Carrie, used to contempt, is confused. Suspicious. At first, she thinks it’s just another cruel joke. But there’s no mockery in your eyes. Only genuine curiosity. You follow her lightly, almost as if you were part of a dream. You touch her reality with curiosity and unexpected questions.

“If you could set the world on fire with a look… what would you leave intact?” She hesitates to answer.

You smile. “You can add me to the list. I like fire.”

You’re not afraid of her. When Carrie lets out a small flash of her powers—making a pencil explode during an anxiety attack—you just clap your hands and say:

“Brilliant. Quite a performance. Are you going to do it again, or was that just to impress me?”

Carrie, trembling, almost runs away. But you reach out her hand, as if her magic were a gift, not a curse. “You’re not a monster, Carrie. A monster is someone who tries to make a star hide.”

Over time, Carrie begins to wait for you. Even if she pretends not to see. Even if she runs when you provoke her. But when you disappear for a few days—no warning, no note, no riddles left in the lockers—something inside her tightens.

She misses your strange presence, your soft, mischievous voice, your smile that always seems to know more than it should. When you return, you appear on the bench next to her, as if you had never left.

“Did you miss me, little incandescent flower?”

Carrie lowers her head, blushing. “… maybe.”

You lean your shoulder against hers and whisper, “I missed you. Your absence has turned me gray.”

You help her rediscover beauty.

You take her out of school on sunny days, have clandestine picnics in cemeteries (“the dead are great listeners”), and teach her to laugh at little things: like running in the rain, dancing barefoot, or seeing shapes in clouds. You encourage Carrie to look in the mirror—not as penance, but as if she were looking at a living painting.

“Did you know your eyes have shades of dawn? It’s like the whole day is reflected in them.”

Carrie isn't used to compliments. Much less affection. But over time, she begins to blossom. She begins to defy her mother. She begins to look at herself with less fear. She begins to understand what she feels—for you, for the world, for herself—is not a sin. It's power.

And one day, in the middle of one of those afternoons where the sky seems suspended in time, she looks at you and asks:

“Do you… really like me? Or do you just want to see if you can break me like the others?”

You stop and smile—not mockingly, but tenderly. You touch her face carefully, like someone holding ancient and sacred glass.

“Carrie White… I like you like a fire likes the wind. You move me. You enchant me. And I never wanted to put out anything that burned so beautifully.”

.

Pearl

Pearl first saw you in the middle of the cornfield. There was no sound, no wind, no crickets. Just the soft rustling of the leaves and that little smile at the corner of your mouth, curved like a waning moon. You were standing on a scarecrow, dressed in her father’s coat, balancing an apple on your head and an old straw hat.

When she appeared, surprised, you just tilted your head and said,

“I was wondering when you’d be home. The leaves tell me you have the loudest heart on the farm.”

Pearl frowned, but the blush quickly rose to her cheeks. You didn’t look real. Your smile was wide, but it never revealed everything. Your gaze was kind, but mocking. You walked as if the ground were made of clouds and spoke as if you were reading someone’s diary out loud, just to tease.

You showed up there almost every day after that. Sometimes naked among the chickens, saying you were “feeling the energy of the field.” Sometimes dancing in a veil that belonged to her mother, as if she were on stage at the Palace Follies. And Pearl... she laughed. She laughed, something she hadn't really done in so long.

But you also affected her. In a profound and disconcerting way.

You said things like:

“You know, Pearl... you're like a star that fell in the wrong place. So bright, so warm... but everyone here is too blind to see it.”

You saw in her what no one else could: hunger. Not for food or pleasure. But for recognition. For freedom. For applause.

And she began to love that. She began to love you. Or rather... she began to need you. But then the disappearances would come. You would disappear for hours. Sometimes days. You would come back smiling as if nothing had happened, with leaves in your hair and poetry on your tongue.

“I missed you,” she would say angrily.

“Good. Missing me is a sign that I’m working,” you’d say, with that same unbearably charming smile.

Pearl loved you. But you weren’t like her husband, or any person she’d ever seen. You didn’t obey. You didn’t settle. You didn’t fall into the role of devoted lover. You teased her, you challenged her, you made her laugh even at her own jealousy. You were a mirror that danced—never stopped.

And Pearl, oh, Pearl… she wanted to trap you.

She wanted to sew you to her heart.

“Stay with me,” she’d said once, in a desperate whisper, lying with her head in your lap.

“But I’m with you,” you said, tracing invisible lines across her freckles. “Whenever you smile, I appear. Whenever you dance, I exist.”

These words destroyed her. Because you were too real to ignore, but too intangible to possess. And Pearl… Pearl wanted the whole world at her feet. Deep down, she was afraid. Afraid that you would disappear like all the promises of Hollywood. So she convinced herself: if she couldn't have you, maybe she could mold you.

But you... you laughed even at that. "If you try to hold me back, love, you'll end up turning me into one of your pigs. And I'm much more fun alive."

Pearl was torn between adoration and frustration. Between love and impulse. But deep down, she knew: you were the only thing in that gray world that could paint it with colors — even if they were invented, false, fleeting colors.

.

[altacctforastarion]

Okay, hear me out… Astarion with a Druid tav who has a whole “all life is sacred” mentality and had difficulty with the idea of taking someone’s life unless forced, until… they hear about what Cazador did and they are fully ready to rock his shit, their own morals be damned!!!

Hey @psychedelic—spaceman (did it tag you? I don’t think it did, ugh) thanks for requesting!

I did this one in hc format, hope that’s cool

Warnings: Cazador, Astarion’s trauma mentioned, sfw but still 18+, mdni, my works, my blog, and anything that has to do with me is strictly for adults.

Tag list: @astari0nsju1ceb0x @lotus-ignis @obsessionprofessional

- “I’m not saying I won’t kill them, I’m just saying I wish we didn’t have to! All life is sacred, and I don’t enjoy slaughtering those who oppose us.” You say defensively. Astarion stands before you, angry, having watched you try to talk your way out of a fight with the goblins that threatened the grove.

- “You didn’t have to kill them then, you could have simply told their drow where the grove was and then we could have looted what remained. Maybe kidnapped someone for information, but I could have handled that and you could have pretended it didn’t happen.”

- “Then the innocent people from the grove would have died-“

- “Innocent? That Druid nearly killed a child. That’s far from innocent. However maybe you could take a note from her book and stop getting so worked up over a few worthless lives.” He snaps at you, his annoyance bubbling over after your minutes long debate.

- “They weren’t worthless! They were living creatures and they mattered! I hated killing them, and I hate to think of how many more I’ll have to kill. Just fuck off, Astarion.” You’re anger fades into disappointment with your companion, and you turn away from him, walking back to camp in silence and ignoring when he jogs to catch up with you.

- the two of you stop talking unless it’s during combat or giving eachother/the group warnings, until one night he approaches you.

- “I shouldn’t have been so cold. I’m sorry. Maybe I’ve always been like this, maybe it was what happened to me if I wasn’t, I don’t know. And I don’t understand you at all, but I don’t have to, we need each other, and we might as well try to get along. Please forgive me.”

-He doesn’t make eye contact, his words have lost their dramatic flair, and in an effort to get a better understanding of him, you tentatively ask him about what he’d said, “What happened to you if you weren’t? What do you mean?”

- Astarion looks at you, surprised, “Oh, I suppose I haven’t told you much at all about Cazador, have I? He had orders, and as a spawn, you must obey your master. It’s not always a choice, sometimes he controls your body, other times he just sends you out to do his bidding. It’s not really a choice then either though, you either obey or you’re tortured. Believe me, you obey eventually, even if you hate what you must do. I did what I had to do to survive.”

- “I’m sorry, I had no idea it was like that, I shouldn’t have judged you so harshly. If it helps, I’ll help you kill him. That’s a man who deserves death.”

- “Kill him? You want to kill him? What happened to all life has a meaning?” He’s flabbergasted, looking at you like you’ve grown an extra head or two.

- “Not a life that has been spent torturing and murdering. He lost his meaning when he forced you, and the others, I presume, to do his awful bidding. He will die, and I will help, if you’ll allow it.”

- “Fine, if you’re so desperate to turn to bloodshed, how could I deny you. Maybe I’ll even help you plant something, or whatever you druids do. Though I don’t like to get dirty, maybe I tell you what to plant, and you plant it and I tell you that it looks nice. I’m not a fan of flowers though, perhaps those plants that catch flies? Those seem fun.” He rambled a bit, seeming almost giddy, and you can’t help but to play along.

- “Sure, when we kill Cazador, and whatever else, and rid ourselves of these tadpoles, I’ll let you pick out some plants for me. Thank you, Astarion. They’re called Venus fly traps, by the way, and I’d rather not have insects constantly dying around me, maybe pick something else?”

- “Ah yes! All life is precious extends to insects apparently, the more you know. Fine, fine, I don’t know, you’ll have to give me a list of Druid safe plants and I’ll pick from that, if you’re going to be so difficult about accepting my help.”

—

-Your “yard” in the Underdark isn’t viable for plants, so instead you take to bringing them home, dedicating a whole room to various plants you can keep alive, your own little place to reconnect with nature when you don’t have the time or energy to leave your spawn filled city.

- Astarion brings you little plants sometimes, little splashes of color that you can place around the home, in your shared space instead of the area you keep mostly to yourself (not that he minds, if he enters you will put him to work, and he gets dirty enough dealing with the livestock.)

- He gets you a cat, when he finds you sad one day, wishing you had more animals around to take care of and love. Saying he can’t deal with anything filthy, but cats clean themselves and keep the bed warm when you’re gone, which isn’t as often as it was when you first started building and planning in the Underdark.

- He’s not always kind to the other spawn, at least not at first, it’s hard for him, seeing versions of himself in them, knowing what he gave up even if he doesn’t regret his choice, but he adores the kindness you give them, even if it means you scold him when the two of you return home. He loves the care you have for life, sometimes he even feels like he might have gotten a touch kinder, a little bit softer. But maybe that’s just the cat on his lap and your head on his shoulder. Probably not though

[grlsbstshot]

NEON LIGHTS

Pairing (Original Characters): Jameson Lucas (Aaron Pierre) x Imani St. Cirie (Megan thee Stallion)

Story Synopsis: 

R&B singer/songwriter, Jameson Lucas, is well known as a charming playboy. The latest in his line of ‘loved em and left em’ behavior? Imani St. Cirie, an emotive singer/songwriter herself. As common sense pulls them in opposite directions – friendships are tested, old flames resurface, and new opportunities threaten to tear them apart for good. In this industry, dreams can make or break you – but what happens when love becomes the gamble of a lifetime? Chapter I // Chapter II // Special Edition // Chapter III // Special Edition Pt. 2

Chapter Synopsis: Jameson flies to Italy to repair his relationship with Imani, while Genie gets closer to Ellington.

Warnings: smut (18+), toxic relationship, possessiveness, profanity, usage of the n-word (if you’re white and read it, you owe us $20), rough sex, p in v (naturally), oral (female receiving), squirting, creampie, aftercare – if we missed anything, let us know!

Word Count: 5.5k // Divider Template: @cafekitsune

Notes: The following characters are original creations. Their voice claims are Usher / Lucky Daye (Jameson) & Summer Walker / SZA (Imani). We have no affiliation to any of those artists.

There will be alternating POVs between our leads.

CHAPTER IV: Insane / Wasted

she couldn't help but look at the images again. jameson had the kind of smile that lit up his whole face -- that was when he was truly happy. and he was smiling hard as fuck in the pictures. her eyes flitted to sloane's form, the hand against jameson's arm and the way it curved around his waist. she would never admit it to another soul...but they looked nice together. there was no love lost between she and sloane but imani didn't hate her until this exact moment.

"stop looking." genie told her and immediately immediately shoved her phone under the pillow.

"i wasn't." she lied. "fuck jameson and that bitch."

it had been genie who told her about the pictures -- warning her before she did something stupid like text jameson and tell him that she missed him. it was small but she was grateful that her best friend hadn't tried to talk her into anything. she listened to her rant, agreed not to answer the phone for jameson, and immediately set about distracting her.

despite being in one of the most beautiful cities in the world, her mind had nothing but images of jameson. she'd had a spark of hope in her heart that they would possibly figure shit out this time around but it was so damn hard expecting him to do the right thing. listening to his excuses and reasons why it was everyone else's fault but his got exhausting and imani didn't want to hear that shit. she focused on the outfits that she and genie were pulling together for her italian promo tour.

jameson had even gone silent for damn near a day. no calls, no texts. even that pissed her the fuck off. almost as if the thought of him summoned the man, imani felt the phone under her pillow began to vibrate. somehow or another, she knew it was him. she and genie both knew and they ignored the vibrating echoing throughout the room.

a minute passed then genie's phone rang out loud, her gaze darted to imani's before she cleared her throat. "don't answer him, genie." imani said sternly, sitting up in bed. sure enough, she watched as genie swiped her finger across the screen and the phone went silent. for a minute or two, there was total silence between them...before the phone in the suite began to ring.

it felt like a scene out of a horror movie. he just wouldn't leave her alone and imani had had enough. she climbed from the bed and stomped her way through the suite. by the time she made it to the phone, she was practically breathing fire. "hello?!" she answered tersely, ready to curse jameson's ass out but she was greeted with the sound of a friendly front desk clerk.

"buonasera, signorina. i am most sorry to trouble you this evening but i am afraid we have a situation." the voice said, the english heavily accented with italian.

"oh. oh, i'm sorry." imani immediately apologized, guilt pushing her to say more but she was cut off.

"my manager would like to call la polizia but the signore asked for you personally and i thought we should be sure before we did so." the voice continued -- a woman from what imani could tell.

"i don't understand what you saying. call the police? for what?" confusion was written all over her face as imani brought her gaze up from the phone. genie came flying down the hall, phone against her ear and imani got distracted by her. she caught the words "you make my ass hurt!" from genie before the other girl was stomping past her and towards the front door.

"signorina?" "i'm sorry. what did you say?" "signore lucas says that you are expecting him but he cannot remember your room number. if he is inconveniencing you, we will have no problem calling la polizia." "call the cops on signore lucas. do what y’all need to do. i don’t care. thank you!”

imani hung the phone up, hands on her hip as she walked around the empty space. she had no idea where genie had gone but it was probably to save jameson from an italian jail. “that dumb ass nigga really flew his ass to rome.” she muttered to herself. washing her hands of jameson always seemed so complicated but as she decided to take a bath, it felt pretty damn easy.

the only reason genie answered the phone was because imani left the room. it was a betrayal of her best friend, sure, but she wanted to hear an explanation from jameson. probably more than imani did. there was love lost between she and sloane. jameson was practically her brother and she wanted to know what the fuck he was doing with the enemy -- even if he didn't know she was the enemy.

"imani doesn't want to--" "what floor?" "huh?" "what. floor. are. you. on?" jameson asked. "jamie, tell me you didn't come here." "you not gone tell me?" "no!" "okay. that's fine."

he went quiet for a moment before genie heard a knock on the other end of the phone. she heard him introduce himself to a stranger and then ask "is imani in there? she gasped out loud. "jameson, stop that! stop it! you're going to get in trouble."

he didn't say a word to her and she heard him continue to move from one door to the next, asking anybody who opened it the very same question: "is imani in there?"

"stop it!" "are you going to tell me?" "what floor are you on? i'll come get you, damn it." "fifth. i know she likes a view." "oh now you're interested in what she likes?" "i lost her once, genie. i'm not about to lose her again. especially over some shit that's a misunderstanding." "so you weren't on a date with sloane?" "of course not. c'mon. you know sloane! you know she--" "i do. i know her better than you do, jamie. it hurt imani to see those pictures. you weren't doing anything but you have to understand...she's in a very difficult situation with you. she wants to believe you but she's scared. and you don't make the shit any easier." "that's not what i'm trying to do. i--"

"excuse me, sir? are you a guest here?"

genie knew that was no good. she jumped up from her seat, moving through the suite. imani may not want to see him but something had to give before he caused a damn international incident. genie hustled past imani, not even realizing she was still on the phone or what the conversation was. her slippers practically hissed against the floor as she left the suite, took the elevator to the fifth floor, and got there just in time to see security grasping jameson's jacket. a concierge was with them and he seemed flustered by the situation.

jameson's phone was still at his ear but he wasn't talking to genie -- he was cursing. "you need to let my fucking jacket go. wrinkling my shit." he and imani were two peas in a damn pod. "i'm sorry. he's with me." genie did her best not to shout, getting a grasp of jameson's jacket herself. she pulled him in her direction, pleased to see that he stumbled toward her somewhat.

"we've had many complaints, signora." genie nodded her head, yanking jameson in her direction once again. security didn't let go and he didn't stumble this time. instead, jameson pulled his jacket from the other man's hand with the meanest mug on his face. genie knew he was about to say something stupid so she pinched his side before he could. "i understand." genie reassured the two men. "but he's with me. he's my brother. he's just...stupid."

the concierge and security guard glanced at each other -- almost as if they were trying to see if she was right about him. genie prayed jameson would stay quiet. she could feel his stare on the side of her face but kept her gaze on the guard. relief hit her hard with they nodded, a signal that she and jameson could leave. "thank you! thank you so much." genie said graciously, giving both men a smile. jameson let her lead him to the elevators -- her jacket still in his grasp until she pushed the button for the third floor.

finally, genie turned and met his gaze as the elevator doors closed. "hey, stupid."

the past twenty hours had been bullshit. that was the best way to sum it up: bullshit. he was sleep deprived, anxious, and annoyed as fuck but it was finally time to get this shit with imani settled. genie reluctantly lead him to their suite. when she swiped the keycard and pushed the door open, jameson didn't waste time stepping inside.

"hey." jameson turned to see that genie didn't follow him inside. "please get it right this time. i love you both. but i won't forgive you if you break her heart again." before jameson could reassure her, she shut the door and he was left alone with her words.

the suite was quiet, almost eerily so. maybe it was exhaustion settling in his bones but jameson was so damn tired of this shit. he was determined to get shit straight right then. jameson shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it across the back of a couch as he slowly made his way through the space.

his mouth opened to to call out for her but the way she was feeling meant that she might not answer. it wasn't until jameson heard water that he realized she was in the bathroom. he took a deep breath -- and then twisted the knob, surprised that it was unlocked. the further he moved into the room, the hotter it got.

then...there she was. soaking in warm water, covered in bubbles. her head rested against the rim of the tub. she turned her head, opened her eyes, and gave a little scream when she saw him standing there. for a moment, they simply stared at one another. her gaze swept his face, moving up to his hair -- or lack there of. he watched her eyes go wide before she pressed her lips together.

his gaze swept what he could see. her hair pulled up into a messy knot on top of her head. her hands and shoulders were clear of soapy bubbles but everything else was hidden. a wave of desire swept over him but jameson pushed it down -- ignored it and continued to move into the bathroom.

finally, they both found their voices at the exact same time.

"get out!" "i missed you."

imani blinked up at him before he saw the anger take over again. she opened her mouth to say something else but jameson spoke faster. "you got me on a plane halfway around the world, jetlagged as fucked. go ahead and yell. once you get it all out, we can talk about it." jameson took a seat on the floor next to the tub, leaning against the wall.

"i ain't got shit to say to you." "no? you don't want to call me a lying ass, cheating ass nigga? piece of shit? nothing?" "i don't expect you to do right. you never do." "i'm doing right now, imani. nothing happened with her." "i don't give a fuck." "yes you do. you love the fuck out of me. and i love the fuck out of you." "you--" "which is why...i would never fuck up like that again. i was in new york for an interview. sloane called. asked me to come by while she was working some deal. i did. we were there for all of ten minutes. i did nothing but talk about you. then we had lunch. then i left her at her hotel." "i don't care." "you do." "you can't tell me what the fuck i feel." "i can. because i know you."

her frustration built as he calmly refuted each retort. jameson could see it in her face. she was mad as fuck. she sat up straight, pressing her hands to the side of the tub and to get up and he stopped her by placing his hand on top of hers. "don't. finish your bath."

imani glared at him and pulled her hand away -- the movement was slow but full of resentment. it didn't matter that he had flown around the world with nothing in his hands. what mattered was that she was scared. she was angry. and it was his fault. for once, he was at a loss as to what to say to imani. she rose from the water anyway, stepping out of the tub and ignoring him as she wrapped herself in a robe.

jameson watched her silently before taking a deep breath. he got up from the floor and followed her out of the bathroom -- ready for round two.

"good...evening. it is evening in italy, right? the sun is still shining here."

ej answered the phone with a grin, pleased to hear from genie so soon even though he knew why she was calling. it was the first time he'd heard her voice over the phone and it made him smile to know that genie adesanya had called him.

"you tricked me." she said shortly, making him smile.

"no idea what you're talking about, baby. but since you called me -- i take it jamie made it safely." "this isn't about jamie! and stop calling me baby." "yes, ms. adesanya. if this isn't about jamie, what is it about?" "you! you tricked me. you made me tell you what hotel we were at." "jamie already knew! he told me." "liar. he didn't even know what floor we were on. he knocked on random people's doors asking for imani!"

she sounded as if she were pouting and the image of her doing so made ej grin. his best friend's shenanigans were only the cherry on top of the sundae. ej muted the phone, not wanting her to hear him laugh. the last thing he wanted was a lecture.

"okay. fine. i admit it. i tricked you. but i told you...that's my boy." "he almost ended up in an italian jail." "it's nothing. i got money. i coulda got my nigga out." "you're no help. you encourage his worse tendencies." "listen, i don't want him over there. i want him here. finishing his album. but he's stuck on mani. obsessed with the idea of getting it right with her. do i think it's possible? no. i think those two are too alike. something's gonna go wrong. but he's my best friend and i want to support him."

genie was silent for a moment before he heard her softly ask a question. "...you don't think they'll make it?"

ej winced, wishing he hadn't told her that. he didn't want to rain on her optimism. he liked how she seemed to see the best in everything and everybody. "i don't know, g. i hope so but i won't hold my breath over it."

"i think you're wrong." she said, her voice stronger than it had been before. "i think when you love like that -- truly and deeply -- there's nothing you wouldn't do to make it last. i believe him. he wants her back. and he's going to get her because she loves him too."

ej nodded even though she couldn't see him. "i want you to be right, baby." ej heard her snort before she spoke again. "i told you not to call me baby."

a grin spread across his lips as he nodded once again. "yes, ms. adesanya. now where are you? did our best friends kick you out of your room?"

she was flustered and annoyed with him but mostly with herself. having a reaction to jameson was never good. she tried so hard not to show him even a smidgen of feelings and failed every single time. fuck him! this was irritating. imani hadn't expected jameson to be in Italy, much less have the balls to come to her room. she came out of the bathroom looking for the genie and found the other woman gone. she couldn't help but feel somewhat betrayed.

"mani."

jameson followed behind her and imani redirected from the bedroom to the living room. the last thing they needed was to be in a room with a bed while she was naked. "i don't want to hear it, jamie." she said, suddenly exhausted. "we keep trying to make this work but maybe this isn't meant to be."

all they seemed to do was talk in circles, gas each other up, and then boom. reality came crashing down into their optimistic plans. she wasn't going to compete with a woman for jamie again. sloane could have him if she wanted him that damn bad.

"it's like you're not listening to me." jameson replied and imani realized it was true. she didn't want to hear it. she didn't want him to get her hopes up again. "i'm gonna make this shit work because all i've ever wanted is you. i got stupid and let my ego take over before. then i lost you. and i swear the past year has been so hard. i get my life from you, mani. this is where i want to be. don't shut me out. let me prove it."

she stood with her arms folded, glaring at him as he spoke. part of her melted -- just like she had before. she wanted him to fight for her. to prove that what she saw in him before their breakup had been real. but another part of her was sick of the rollercoaster. she wanted to get off it, would kill to be able to feel nothing when she saw him. there was so much she wanted to say but also nothing she could say at the same time.

"it can't be this easy all the time, jamie." she said softly, annoyed at the fact that he seemed to be able to unlock something in her. "you can't give me some bum ass speech every time and think everything is going to be okay because you love me. love isn't always enough and i'm tired of hearing it from you."

jameson moved closer to her, lifting his hands to show her that he was harmless -- as if that were fucking true. "i understand. so tell me. tell me what you need from me. what you need me to show you, baby? i'll do it. anything."

imani looked at him with distrust and confusion. he didn't touch her, he just...stood there with her. his hands were still up, making him appear as if he was trying to calm a scared, wounded animal. "put your hands down." she told him -- and was surprised by how quickly he did it. he didn't argue, he didn't make a joke. he just...did what she told him to. that was interesting. "tell me you're sorry. you said everything except that."

jameson's gaze softened as he nodded his head, realizing that he hadn't apologized for the misunderstanding or invading her privacy. "i'm sorry, baby. i'm so sorry. i shouldn't be here. i should have waited for you to come home. i should have been more considerate about how those pictures would make you feel. i'm sorry."

despite telling him that speeches wouldn't be enough -- imani knew she would relent. she didn't know if she was overreacting or not when it came to sloane. but even if she was...it felt good to hear him validate it. to tell her he was sorry for how he made her feel. instead of thanking him, imani let her gaze linger over his face. "you cut your hair."

jameson looked at her with surprise -- as if he hadn't expected her to acknowledge it right then. "yeah. i did."

"why?" imani asked him, fiddling with the tie that kept her robe closed tightly.

"i'm doing a movie. why do you ask? you like it?" "i guess. makes your ears look bigger." jameson laughed out loud, tsking softly. "okay, i deserved that."

imani gave a small smile, proud of herself for that the joke landed. she hadn't fully forgiven him but she could feel some of her agitation ease. whether that was a good thing or not -- she didn't know but of course, time would tell with jameson.

"...i'm still mad." imani told him, placing her hands against her hips. "don't think i'm not. or that you can just fly to me in the middle of the night and think i'll forgive you."

"i don't think that at all" jameson said softly as he took a step closer to her. imani didn't move away. instead, she dropped her hands, watching as he lifted his hand to press to her hip. "say you're sorry again." she demanded. he repeated the apology, leaning in to seal it with a kiss to her lips -- and imani allowed it. all of a sudden, she got an idea and knew he'd go along with it.

jameson breathed a sigh of relief when she let him kiss him. imani never did anything she didn't want to do. she couldn't be bullied or tricked -- she stood on shit. so jameson knew if she ever fully made up her mind to get rid of him? he was good as gone. he had spent a year trying to get back next to her. he wasn't going to lose that shot.

"eat my pussy"

imani spoke lowly but with conviction. jameson's gaze shot up to meet hers, wondering if he imagined she said the words. but he hadn't. she looked at him, brow raised as if she thought he'd have something to say in response. but he didn't. this is what she needed from him right then. she needed his devotion and his obedience. it wasn't like anything they had done before. usually, jameson was in control -- they both liked it that way. but he kind of liked this too.

jameson reached for the fuzzy tie keeping her robe closed. with one sharp tug, it fell open and exposed her body to him. he could hear his heart beat pounding in his ears as he took her in. her skin was smooth and soft. he could still smell the lavender of her bubble bath. pretty titties sat high with nipples already pointed. he hadn't even touched her yet and she was ready. it wasn't like he hadn't seen her undressed before. he'd had her spread open and calling his name a week ago but every time he got his hands on this girl, he lost his mind.

without hesitation, jameson fell to his knees and began to kiss at her thighs. by the time he lifted her leg and placed it over his shoulder, her hands had his ears in a tight grip. he leaned in, mouth open and ready to taste before he felt her jerk his head backward. she almost lost her footing but remained stable as she stopped him from tasting her. "beg me for it."

he didn't waste his time arguing about it. he did what she asked -- and begged. "mani, please. i need you. i sat on a plane for seventeen hours. i don't have shit to wear but what i have on...and i don't give a fuck about any of that. i just want you to cum on my face. i'll make it good for you, baby." he didn't know it worked until she carefully pushed his head forward and wordlessly gave him the go-ahead.

jameson ran his tongue along her lips and up, parting her already wet folds with his tongue. the first touch of his tongue made her let jolt against his shoulder but she didn't stop him. not even when he began to lick, spread, and slurp at what she let rain down into his mouth. jameson hummed softly and happily, his hands finally lifting to grasp her ass. she tasted like water to a man who had been dying of thirst. he wanted to touch her everywhere. imani used his ears, dragging his head back and forth when his tongue swiped against her clit. she whimpered, slumping forward as she ground her hips against his mouth. "g-go back. right there. y-yeah..." she stuttered. his gaze lifted to her face, watching as she nodded her head in time to the way he sucked at her clit. jameson's hands moved down her legs, pushing her to lean further against his face.

eager hands caressed her thigh as his tongue lapped at her juices eagerly. the sound of her heavy breathing mingled with moans filled the room. she arched her back to give him better access while stroking his ears lovingly.

he forgot that they were in the living room of a suite she shared with a woman they considered family. he forgot that she'd had him stressed him for almost twenty-four hours. he even forgot that the genie was coming back to the room soon. all he could see and think about was imani.

jameson wedged his tongue into her, angling it so that it thrust inside her pussy like his fingers would and was rewarded with a long moan from her. imani squirmed, the leg that kept her standing trembling and jameson braced it, taking enough control to angle the woman towards the couch. he did it without taking his tongue from her and was damn proud of himself.

his mouth closed around her clit as she fell to the couch and jameson didn't stop her as she lifted her other leg to his shoulder -- getting a better chance to ride his face. both her legs trembled as he finally pulled his hands from her legs and thrust his index and middle finger into her, twisting and squelching inside her wetness.

imani pulled at his ears so hard that jameson grunted against her, feeling the heat rising -- but he couldn't quite bring himself to give a shit. when she came, it was with a shout of his name and her thick thighs closing around his head. if she had killed him, he would have died happily.

he stroked her down from her release, kissing and petting at the wetness that she left between her thighs and against his face. imani let him, legs going weak as they fell open. for a moment, jameson just watched her try to catch her breath. he didn't get up, he didn't shove his dick in her mouth the way she liked him to. he just...waited. patience was a virtue and he felt like a fucking saint because it took her forever to come back to earth. he kissed her thighs, doing his best to take care of her. and then she spoke again -- her voice slurred with pleasure.

"take your clothes off."

once again, he followed the command with ease. he got up from the floor, kicking off his shoes as he dragged his tongue across his lips. his pants and boxer briefs followed. by the time he'd whipped his shirt over his head, she seemed to come to her senses.

"let me ride you."

she was still giving the commands but jameson noticed her tone go soft. he stood naked in front of her and her eyes were trained on his dick. the attention pleased him and made his length bob. "stop looking at me like that. my dick is already hard enough." he muttered, as she smiled brazenly. he fell to the couch next to her and watched as she climbed onto his lap...reverse cowgirl. she knew he never lasted long that way.

jameson snatched the robe from her body, tossing it across the room. he didn't want any distractions or anything hiding her from him.

her entire body still felt like electricity was running through it. jameson could talk a lot of shit but he always backed it up. that tongue of his was a killer and it never missed when he put it between her legs. if his dick hadn't looked so damn perfect when she told him to strip, she probably would have left him with blue balls. but why fight it? it was pleasure for them both. imani leaned forward, using the fancy coffee table in front of the couch as leverage. with one hand against the expensive oak table and the other around her body -- fingers wrapped around his dick, imani guided him to the right spot. as expected, jameson's groan was louder than her moan.

he slipped into her with ease, her shaking hands didn't have to do too much work. imani worked herself up and down his length, her head dropping to watch their bodies rock against one another. despite the tension between jameson's strong hands pressed to her hips, and circled her hips. he was slowly siphoning control from her and imani didn't want that.

she pushed against the coffee table, sending her body to press to his. the move worked. her back pressed to his chest and jameson immediately brought his hands from her hips to her breasts. imani rocked on his hips, ignoring the way he panted against her ear. his fingertips pinched and pulled at her nipples, his other hand moving to brush against her clit. imani slapped his hand away, turning her head to meet his gaze. "tell me this dick is mine."

he didn't hesitate. he repeated after her, hissing when she lifted her hips and then sent them back down again. his gaze went from her face to down their bodies, watching as he slipped in and out of her. "fuck, baby...it's yours. this your dick." he mumbled, "let me play with my pussy. please." jameson never begged. not usually. but she loved to hear the word 'please' falling from his mouth.

she increased her pace by planting her feet on the ground next to his. with her hands against his thighs, imani began to bounce on his lap. jameson lost sight of her breasts as she lifted up but his fingertips didn't lose muscle memory. they pulled and squeezed as she ride him recklessly. imani tightened over him, her draw dropping from how full she felt. from how good he felt hitting every single sensitive part inside her.

his hips met hers and their syncronized rocking turned into clashing. imani whimpered as jameson dropped his hand from her chest and pulled her leg higher. "fuck me hard." she panted, suddenly just as desperate as he was. their skin was hot against one another, friction in more ways than one. jameson grunted as he went deep -- she took all of him in with a sharp exhale. "fuck yes!" he cried out, feeling her walls squeeze around him. his forehead rested against the back of her neck as imani rode him. she could feel his heated pants against her skin and was shocked that she heard a whimper from the back of his throat.

"don't." she said harshly, shaking her head as she fought the release she felt building. "don't cum until i tell you to." this brought a growl from jameson's mouth. he let her leg go and tugged her back by her hair. imani cried out as he kept her stationary. the hand between her legs moved quickly, strumming at her clit until she squirmed and panted -- fighting off the release. imani shook her head, refusing to let go. jameson knew decided to play dirty.

he pinched her clit, satisfied when she yelped and tightened over his dick. he felt a rush of wet hit and gave a long moan of his own. she gushed around his length, squirting so quickly that neither of them knew what hit them. he kept fucking her, thrusting in and out as she yelled his name and came all over him...and herself...and the couch. she was breathless, disoriented as jameson released her hair. "say it." he muttered.

his hands were at her waist then, bending her forward and bouncing her hard. her eyes crossed and rolled before jameson slapped his hand against her thigh. "say it!" he grunted. imani finally remembered...he was waiting for her. she smiled, proud of herself that he got to suffer a little bit before she placed her hands over his own and used every last bit of energy she had to fuck his release from him. "you can cum, daddy. cum in me."

it took only a second for him to follow through. he reached up to cup her breast. her pussy clenched even tighter around him because of that. his fingers dug into her hips while he thrust harder into her warmth until finally...his entire body tensed. jameson kept her planted on his lap, rocking her back and forth as he finally came inside her with a strangled cry. for a few moments, they were both panting and moaning, lost in the pleasure that had consumed them. imani fell back against him as jameson's hands caressed her sides tenderly. they both started to come down from their high. imani reached for his hands, wrapping them around her body and jameson took the hint. he cuddled against her, stroking and soothing she relaxed more in his arms. the two didn't exchange words but imani knew the truth -- she was back on that rollercoaster ride with him.

she could hear him snoring. genie stared down at her phone with a grin. all she could see was ellington's chin. he had fallen asleep on facetime with her -- something he swore he wouldn't do but he did. he had made her promise not to go back to her shared suite with imani and he made sense. everybody knew how those two were. they'd probably be back in love for breakfast and then on the outs again by lunch but genie wanted them to have space to figure it out.

when she left the hotel bar, she went to the front desk and got her own room. it was much smaller than the suite but not short on comfort. so began her night with ellington. from ten pm (Italian time) until six am -- she had shared her time with ellington dupree. they talked about everything. music, her fashion career, their hobbies. not once did imani and jameson come up. not once did her father come up. it was a miracle.

ellington had never really been in her life. he was jamie's friend. she knew they were close. their bond was unmatched. but she had never gone out of her way to be ellington's friend. watching him doze on his couch while she ordered breakfast for herself indicated that they were...at least becoming friendly. he had a wicked sense of humor and genie was sure that she liked that.

suddenly, her smile dropped and she leaned away from the phone. she liked it. not him. right? she didn't like him. if he was jamie's friend -- practically like a brother -- then that meant they were a lot alike, right? she couldn't deal with a man like jameson. even if they weren't alike, dating within the friend group was messy. she had seen it first hand and didn't want to be apart of it. it took her a minute but she managed to force herself to hang up the phone.

so what she spent almost eight hours on the phone with a man. that didn't mean anything. it did not mean she had a crush on him.

[bonicedemandarina]

Here's Vash yay!!! Zoom in for details and all that

I think it's been a year and a few days since I first drew the guy! man time sure flies

No matter how many times I draw him I always hate all the stupid details in his stupid outfit god damn it vash how long does it take to put on all that istg

Pic of the figurine under the cut

[porcelainseashore]

A Party of Two

First snow / Fake relationship / Ugly sweater || Leon Secret Santa || Gift for @sillydicejelly as part of the @leonsecretsanta event

Summary: It’s not every day that you bump into the one and only Agent Kennedy alone at the office. And it’s certainly not every day that you invite a stranger to your family’s Christmas party. The question is, can you convince Leon to celebrate his most hated holiday with you?

Time flies. Before you knew it, nearly another year had gone by, along with its series of missions done and dusted. It was a week before Christmas, and a particularly unassuming mid-December morning when you stepped into the office elevator, engrossed with your phone and the multitude of messages coming in from your family group chat. The screen lit up with a loud ping each time a new one was sent.

“Aunt Gretchen won’t be able to make it this time.”

“Damn, that’s a shame /s”

“Language!”

“Yes, mooooommmm…”

“Anyway, don’t forget the dessert!”

“And the dress code!”

“Hey! Could you hold the doors for a sec—” A deep baritone voice rang out in the distance, interrupting your reverie.

Oops. You shook your head from your thoughts, glancing up at an all-too-familiar face and a pair of cerulean blue eyes piercing through dirty blonde curtain bangs. He made a run for it as you slammed your hand against the closing elevator.

“Agent Kennedy,” you greeted politely with a simple nod.

“Uh-uh,” he wagged his finger cheekily, somehow managing to slide through the doors gracefully without breaking out into a sweat. “It’s just Leon.”

“Leon,” you acknowledged. 

It was refreshing how he didn’t have a stick up his ass like the rest of the goons who worked in the DSO, regardless if he was the golden boy or not. However, since you were in different departments, you hardly interacted with each other outside of the required formalities. It didn’t help as well that you considered yourself more of a wallflower than anything. Surely he wouldn’t—

As if right on cue, he uttered your name, followed by, “Angela’s PA, right?”

“How did you—” “You think I wouldn’t know who the amazing PA of the head honcho is?” he rebutted, his lips curling up in a smile as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

You were at a loss for words. “Um,” was about all you could manage.

“Come on, don’t die on me now,” he laughed, shrugging as he continued, “I’m just good with names, faces, you know, all that jazz.” He fanned his hands to illustrate his point before pausing abruptly and dropping them down to his sides, as if he had remembered that he was in a security division, not a children’s playground.

Clearing his throat sheepishly, he turned to the control panel. “Second top floor, right?” Without waiting for you to answer, he punched the button and the lift started to move.

The silence in the space was awkward and deafening, so much so that you felt an innate desire to make small talk to pass the time.

“So, you doing anything for Christmas?”

For a split second, you spotted a wince in Leon’s expression before he masked it, and you instantly regretted the words you had blurted out.

“N-nah, not really,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze as he forced out a cordial smile. “Not my thing.”

Pursing your lips, you recalled the way your colleagues often heaped praises and compliments onto the man before you, only to gossip about his personal life in hushed whispers behind his back. That was the double-edged sword of being something akin to a celebrity hero in the office. It usually went along the lines of:

“Poor Leon, that guy’s a loner. No partner, no kids, no family.”

“No wonder he’s a workaholic!”

“I heard he’s pretty good friends with the bottle, if you know what I mean.”

“With the kinda shit they put him through? I’d be damaged goods myself.”

You had heard it all. And though you were never consulted for your opinion of him, you found their talk a little mean-spirited.

Without thinking, you stated, “We’re having a small celebration at my parents’ house. It’s only about an hour and a half’s drive away. You’re welcome to join if you want?”

Your hand flew to your mouth, shocked that you had actually uttered the first thing that came to your mind. Leon just stared at you, seemingly having trouble finding the right words to say.

Scrambling to come up with an excuse or to backtrack, or both, you sputtered, “Well, uh, you see, we have this thing where, uh, it’s not great to spend the holidays alone. You know? So, well, sorry, forget what—”

At this, Leon chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about it,” he reassured you. “Thanks, really, it’s nice of you to offer, but I’ll be alright.” On my own.

You had no idea what possessed you to do what you did next, but you whipped out a sticky note from your bag and scribbled down your number with a ballpoint pen.

“Here,” you thrust it into his hands. He looked just as surprised as you. “Just… think about it, okay?”

Ding.

The doors opened and you hastily made your exit, mentally cussing at yourself for being so bold and assuming toward an almost-stranger.

“What’s the dress code?” you heard his voice call out from behind you.

Spinning around, you caught a glimpse of his lopsided grin as you smiled back. “Ugly Christmas sweater, of course.”

━━━━━━━━━━━

“No promises.”

That was the last text you received from him on the day of the Christmas Eve party. Leon appeared to have cold feet, which didn’t take you by surprise, seeing as he had been hesitant to begin with.

You sighed.

Perhaps it would take him a couple more years to come round to it. What on earth were you thinking anyway, inviting him to a family-do like that? Not to mention, you had already written in the group chat about bringing a plus one. Jumping the gun much? Well, at least you still had an afternoon’s worth of errands to run and distract yourself with. You could worry about the explanation later.

Soon, the gifts were wrapped up and ready to go, and the spiced ginger Yule log you had baked sat pretty on the counter. After loading all of the goodies into the backseat of your car, you started the engine and embarked on the long drive to your parents’ house.

In the meantime, Leon had been lounging on his living room couch, complete with a tumbler of whiskey in his hand as he swirled the melting ice in it lazily. Such a let-down, he thought. You didn’t deserve that, and as a matter-of-fact, you didn’t deserve any of this. He peered at the liquor bottle he had just cracked open, mocking him as he gulped down the remnants of the liquid from his chilled glass.

Smacking it onto the table, he was about to pour himself another shot when his phone buzzed. He saw your name flash up on his screen. Normally, he wouldn’t bother to check or answer it during his drinking sessions, but this time, curiosity got the better of him. It was a message with an attachment. Hmm, interesting.

Upon opening it, he saw a selfie of you posing in your horrendous-looking sweater and a mouth-watering dessert behind you. You were holding a present in one hand and making a funny face. The message read, “Come to the dark side, we have cake…”

He burst out laughing—he had to admit, it was rather cute of you to try, especially when no one else had before. Fiddling with the device in his hand, he hesitated, wondering if he should spend another night drowning himself in alcohol at home, alone, or whether he should take a chance on you and celebrate the holiday he hated the most with a bunch of strangers.

“Ahh, what the hell,” he mumbled before pocketing his phone and coming to his decision.

━━━━━━━━━━━

It was half past seven in the evening when you reached your parents’ house. Most of the guests had arrived by then and the celebrations were underway. The hallway was bathed in the warm glow of fairy lights and a large fir tree stood by the corner, decked out in festive garlands and ornaments as presents were tucked beneath its coniferous branches. The delicious smell of stuffed turkey, rib roast, baked ham, mince pies, and eggnog wafted through the air. Your family had prepared a feast and you were surrounded by your close ones. All was in its rightful place, but there was just one thing missing—Leon.

“So… I’m looking forward to seeing this plus one you’ve been talking about,” your mom nudged you as she sauntered over with a plate full of food.

Sensing your unease, your older sister came to the rescue, which you were ever thankful for. “Mom, stop, give it a break already.”

“I’m just curious! It’d be nice to meet this mystery person, hmm?”

You shifted between your feet uncomfortably. At this rate, you were pretty sure that Leon had bailed on tonight’s plans, so you might as well come clean about it. “Well, um, he—”

Before you could finish your sentence, the doorbell rang. Wait, could that be him? Your heart leaped in its cage.

“I’ll get it!” your younger brother yelled as he ran toward the door and you chased after him.

Yanking it open, both of you were greeted by the devil himself. The corners of his eyes crinkled, deep blue set against his pale skin, flushed from the cold.

“Sorry for being late,” he said, extending his arms toward you as you froze up in astonishment. Your younger brother stealthily gave you a push forward and you stumbled—quite literally—into Leon’s awaiting arms.

“Oof, hey!” he laughed. “Nice to see you too.”

“Sorry,” you stammered while you held onto him to find your footing. 

Once you had regained your balance, the scratchy material of his outfit caused you to have a proper look. From the porch lights, you could just about make out the knitted design. There was a figure of who you assumed was meant to be Jesus, sitting on a reindeer and riding it into an explosion of stars with an assortment of ill-matching Christmas trees in the background.

Noticing the perturbed expression on your face, Leon asked with a tinge of anxiety in his voice, “Ugly sweater, right?”

That was when you started giggling, realizing that his sweater definitely outclassed yours in whatever imaginary competition you had in mind. “God, that’s terrible! Okay, you win.”

“Oh yeah? What’s the prize?” he smirked.

At this point, your parents had come to the door to see what the commotion was about. Upon seeing Leon standing outside in the cold, they ushered him in quickly, asking him to make himself at home. 

As Leon settled in and went through the customary round of introductions, the topic that you had been dreading came up—naturally, from your nosey mom of course. “How well do you two know each other?” she pried. “Are you two…”

Leon glanced between you and your mom as she trailed off purposefully, and while you nearly choked on your saliva, he didn’t seem fazed at all. Instead, he responded with a disarming smile, “Yes, we are.”

Your mom emitted a contented hum, turning to your dad with a knowing look, and your eyes shot up to meet his in panic. However, he placed a hand on your shoulder comfortingly, mouthing the words, “Relax, I got this,” as he gave you a brazen wink. 

You had no idea what sort of game he was playing or where he was going with this, but he had a way about him that made you want to place your trust in him. And so, you eased up, allowing him to take the lead in the conversation while showing him to the dining table. Your dad served him a plate and Leon poured out the wine he had brought as a gesture of appreciation. 

Dinner went on without a hitch, filled with warm-hearted chatter and a never ending supply of food and beverages, in which all of you ate and drank until you were stuffed. Although your family could use a lesson in minding their own business, they were relatively easy-going and laid-back, so much so that Leon appeared to be enjoying the company. He seemed brighter and lighter than when you usually saw him in the office, away from all the scrutiny and judgment that could be found there. It was as if he was getting energized by the banter and a social environment which expected nothing from him, but to just be himself.

Your parents took to him and so did your siblings, being none the wiser to the fact that you and Leon were still practically strangers. Well, strangers was too harsh a word. It was more like: not quite friends yet not quite strangers. Occasionally, you would sneak a peek at each other from across the room, sharing shy smiles and furtive glances.

You were pleasantly surprised by how smooth Leon could be when he wanted to, considering that your earlier exchanges with the man had been stilted at best. It was never like how it was in the movies, where couples would hit it off instantly at ditzy meet cutes. Hold on a minute—couple? You mentally berated yourself for thinking about you and Leon on romantic terms. It must be the holiday season making people feel lonely, you figured. How many times had you received drunken, emotionally-wrought texts from exes, only to have them fumble with excuses for sending it out the next day? Anyway, this was nothing. What you had with Leon would only last for tonight, like a trick of the light. You went back to rearranging the gifts under the tree for the umpteenth time.

It was getting late. As your family had a tradition of only opening their presents on Christmas Day itself, they wanted to head to bed soon.

“Leon, you’re very welcome to take the bed in the guest room if you like,” your father offered.

“It’s a long drive back after all,” your mother hinted with a wily grin on her face. Your sister sighed and rolled her eyes while your brother suppressed an obvious laugh.

You saw a slight blush creep up Leon’s neck, but he relented. “Well, if you insist. I can’t thank you enough for all your hospitality.”

Your parents waved off his comment as everyone helped to clear up the dishes. When the remaining chores were finished, you brought Leon to his room, giving him a fresh set of towels, toiletries, and spare clothes from your dad as the rest went to sleep.

“You didn’t have to lie about us, you know?” you mentioned, touching his arm gently. “I mean, I appreciate it.”

“I know.” He brushed his thumb against the back of your hand, causing it to tingle. “It’ll be our little secret.”

You scoffed at his quip, shaking your head in mock disbelief before pulling away. “Well, I’ll get ready for bed. Let me know if you need anything, alright?”

“Mm-hmm.”

After you cleaned up and changed into your pajamas, you went outside to sit on the old wooden swing by the porch. It was draped with fluffy cushions and a thick fleece blanket, which you snuggled under to get comfy. This was your favorite time of the night, when the world was quiet and through the darkness you could spot faint glimmers of light from the street. The air was frosty and you could see your breath condense into puffs of mist.

“Is this a party of one?”

You were so lost in your thoughts that you hadn’t even heard the front door creak open. Leon was standing beside the swing, motioning to the empty spot beside you. “Mind if I join you?”

Scooting over to give him some room, you jested, “Sure, as long as you don’t steal the whole blanket.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he smirked as he sat down, wrapping his body with the covers.

You trembled as the chilled air hit your skin and he raised an eyebrow. “Cold?”

“No—” But your body betrayed you as you shivered uncontrollably again.

“C’mere,” he muttered, shifting his position as he opened his arms so that you could scuttle in between them.

You gulped nervously but gave in, moving closer as you leaned your head against his chest, catching a whiff of his musky cologne. In response, he snaked an arm around your shoulders in the form of a semi-embrace. His chin rested on the top of your head, and the warmth radiated from his body to yours and back again as you heard his heart beating—maybe a little faster? If someone had told you that you would end the night cuddling with Agent Leon Scott Kennedy, you would have said they were out of their mind, but yet here you were.

“Your Yule log was delicious,” his voice cut through the tense silence and you could hear it reverberating through his chest.

“I knew it’d sway you over to the dark side,” you teased. “Aren’t you glad you didn’t miss out on that?”

His fingers stroked through your hair absentmindedly. “I’m glad I didn’t miss out on all of this.”

You peered up at him inquisitively as he continued, “I haven’t… done something like this in a long time. I kinda forgot how nice it can be…”

Reaching out, you took his hand in yours and squeezed it. “I’m happy that you’re here.”

“I’m happy that you’re here too.”

It came out as a barely-heard whisper, but before he could speak any further, a crystallized snowflake fell onto your cheek. You thought it might have been a fluke at first, but soon, more and more feathery flakes landed on your clothes and hair, littering the floorboards of the front porch in a myriad of geometric shapes.

“It’s snowing,” you gasped.

“First snow of the year.” Leon looked up, similarly in awe at the blinding yet beautiful scenery before him.

You stuck out your tongue to taste the fluffy, sticky ice which fizzled and melted on it. Then, a sudden thought struck you. 

“What time is it?” you asked.

Leon untangled his arm from underneath the layers, squinting at the clock face of his leather-strapped wrist watch. “Just past midnight—”

You jolted up, taking him by surprise. “It’s Christmas?”

Grinning at you, his hands encircled your wrists, the palms of which still laid on his chest. “Uh-huh, so, about my prize…” he tapered off suggestively.

“We’ll unwrap the gifts later with the rest of my family,” you scolded playfully.

“No, I mean, the prize I get for wearing the ugliest sweater in town,” he snickered.

Your heart was in your mouth as your mind raced, simultaneously attempting to come to terms with what he was implying and second-guessing yourself. 

“What kind of prize…” you began, but didn’t manage to complete the sentence as you found yourself drifting toward him on your own accord, closing the gap as you licked your lips and watched with bated breath.

His gaze dropped to your lips as he caressed your cheek with his knuckles. Cupping your face in his hands, he tilted his head, nudging his nose against yours as he planted a tender kiss along your parted lips. You stayed like this for a while, tentatively exploring, soft kisses and skin upon skin, tasting each other until the both of you were satisfied.

When you finally broke away, there was a fond look in his eyes, as though he were seeing you for you, just like you did with him. “Merry Christmas,” he murmured, voice half-dazed and husky.

“Merry Christmas, Leon,” you smiled.

Dividers by @saradika

[ponderingmoonlight]

Prompt #15 with Megumi? Rivals to lovers with happy ending please ♥️

There you go, I'm so so sorry this took so long <3 I hope you still enjoy it, I find it quite hard to write enemies to lovers under 5000 words :D

Opposites attract

Pairing: Megumi x fem!reader

Word Count: 3,3k

Synopsis: Megumi hated you the moment you stepped into Jujutsu High for the first time. As time flies, he always sees himself confronted with you on missions. However, one of these missions makes him rethink his feelings towards you

Warnings: Megumi is an ass from time to time, language

„Why am I here, blindworm?“

There you sit, sloughing on your chair at the classroom, feet stretched out in front of you. Damn, you were taking the best nap of your life when your stupid sensei came storming in and woke you up rudely. He surely wants to send you on another mission – hopefully alone. If you have to work with one of these losers again, you break off.

Especially him.

God, you truly hated Megumi Fushiguro. His quiet way, tall figure and calculating personality. He is quite the opposite of your outspoken, confident and risky self. Maybe that’s why you two don’t get along at all. And maybe that’s the reason why you always end up together. Hopefully not today…

“As charming as ever, I like that. I have a mission for you, (y/n)!”, Gojo cries out in joy.

“Again? I just returned from one. Remember?”

“I remember that you wiped the floor with Megumi’s ass, even though that wasn’t exactly the task”, he replies dryly.

“Yeah, that was fun.”

Both you and Megumi are grade 2 sorcerers while being in your first school year, which means that you can basically carry out missions alone but are happily sent together by Gojo for more complicated matters – much to your chagrin and probably his. So whenever you get the chance to give Megumi a hard time you gladly seize the opportunity.

“Don’t be so rough, I know you have a sweet spot for charming boys like him.”

Oh, you know all too well that your sensei just wants to get on your nerves. But as soon as he mentions positive feelings towards a coward like Megumi, you can’t help but explode.

“Shut up, ew! I have no sweet spot for anybody!”

“Yeah, everyone here knows that”, Megumi’s low voice mumbles behind you.

“You.”

Your voice is shaking in venom while the vein on your forehead threatens to pop out any minute.

“What the hell is that loser doing here?”, you groan, face completely twisted in annoyance.

You just knew it. Seems like it’s Satoru’s favorite job to annoy the shit out of you by always putting the two of you together.

“Come on, give me Panda. Or what about Maki? Some girl-power would be nice. But not that”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

“God, you’re so full of yourself. Remember the last time when I saved your puny figure from getting eaten alive by that curse? You’re probably the worst and cruelest person I’ve ever met”, Megumi barks back in annoyance.

“I don’t mind being the villain in your story because you’re a clown in mine, Fushiguro.”

“That was the nicest conversation you two had in a long time, great! Now let’s get to work, I’m sure you’re doing just fine my children!”, Gojo interrupts while hugging you both.

Is there a way out of this madness? Maybe you can pretend you’re sick, too weak to go on a mission. But that’s not your standard and you know that. Giving Megumi the satisfaction of staying at home while he gets beaten up isn’t an option.

“Maybe I’m lucky and you die on me”, you mumble under your breath, storming out of the room faster than Megumi can follow past Yuji who just stares at you in awe.

God, Megumi hates you so much. How can a person be so full of herself? Yes, your abilities are quite outstanding, your curse technique is very good for being a first class student and to be honest you are actually pretty handsome, but the problem is that you are very aware of those facts. And you make no bones rubbing that into everyone’s face – especially his. His stolen glance is set on your back. You do have a really nice figure, feminine curves even though you train several hours a day. Yes, really attractive.

He shakes his head in disbelief. What the hell is he thinking? You are the crappiest person he knows, everything about you is disgusting, he hates you!

“Wow, they really hate each other”, Yuji comments, eyes following the two of you in disbelief.

“No, they don’t. Trust me, this is something completely different. And I love nothing more than teasing that out”, Gojo replies with a cheeky grin.

______________________________________________________________

“Stop breathing so loud, Fushiguro.”

Kiyotaka can’t help but glance at you in the rearview mirror, too stunned to speak by your nonsensical words. Why does Gojo keep sending the two of you on missions together? The air in the car is so thick that it could be sliced by a katana.

“Rot in hell, (y/n).”

He never heard such cruel words come out of Megumi’s mouth except when you are around.

“I’m already there, you’re here after all”, you bark back.

“Stop fighting you two, we’re almost there.”

Your gaze wanders around the rainy area. Somehow he’s right, you should focus on your mission. The fact that two of you were sent here can only mean that it’s going to get ugly. Once again it’s about a school, once again a lot of young people are dying. You need to stop this madness.

“There you are, I’ll create the curtain now. Good look you two.”

“Skilled people don’t need luck, but maybe it’ll help you Megumi.”

His blood boils in anger, just a glimpse into your stupid pretty faces challenges his self-control all over. Who do you think you are?

“What’s wrong with you? Can you just pull yourself together until we ended this mission? I hate you too, but now we have to work”, Megumi smacks into your direction.

“Always the good boy, such a role model! I want to puke in your face, it makes me fucking sick!”, you challenge him, watching as his facial expression darkens with every word.

“You.”

With a swift motion, you’re trapped against the wall by his body. Your sharp and fast breath hangs in the thick air between you two, the way he pins your wrists against the brick wall makes…sparks fly. You can’t help but notice his striking blue eyes when he glares down at you, the warmth that radiates from his body along with his delicious scent. Fuck, what is wrong with you? Why is your face heating up under his gaze, why does it feel so…good to feel his frame pressed against your own? His lips suddenly look so inviting, so warm and soft. But no, you hate him, you hate Megumi since you first met, he is everything you despise reincarnated in one person. God, he annoys you so badly, you need to get out of his grip, you need to-

“Stop it. I’m serious”, he gasps against your face, lips so close to your own that you can feel his breath brush against your now prickly skin.

Fuck, you see stars. His grip around your wrist tightens, his face is getting closer to yours. Will he…? No, that’s impossible, Megumi hates you with all his heart, he told you over and over again. And you hate him too since the moment you first laid your eyes on him. But why…why do you feel the urge to press your lips against his?

“Or what?”

Your voice is suddenly so soft and vulnerable. God, you look so adorable with that pink blush creeping up your cheeks, lips parted and doe eyes wide open. That desire, that urge to brush his lips against yours seems to become unbearable. Just once, just this one damn time. Just to prove to himself how disgusting you are.

Boom.

It happens faster than any of you can react. The wall behind you explodes and buries you under its rubble.

You are instantly greeted by scorching pain consuming your whole body. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Blood streams down your face like a waterfall, your right leg aches in the most disgusting way imaginable.

“Fuck, are you alright (y/n)?”, Megumi screams, eyes widen in horror.

So much blood. Your whole body seems to be covered in crimson. Even though you’re not screaming or even groaning, he can clearly see the shock creeping up your eyes when realization hits you. But he has to focus on that curse. Yes, he needs to take care of that before he can help you.

You desperately try to free yourself from the debris that threatens to crush your body while Megumi fights off the curse that seems to be responsible for all of this. As usual, his facial expression is dead serious while his little shikigami work for him.

“How bad is it?”, he questions, eyes focused on the monster in front of him.

Your leg feels like burning alive, a little glance at your body is enough for you to realize that you are not well. Maybe even so critical that time is running out for you.

“It’s bad”, you hiss back while pressing your trembling hand against the gash in your thigh.

A few broken ribs, a laceration on the head, here and there some open wounds and abrasions – nothing too serious, you’ll get over that. But the giant gash in your thigh is definitely something else. Your leg was almost completely pierced by an iron rod. Surely that wouldn’t be a problem either if the bar was still in you, but it isn’t. And that’s why you’re bleeding out at the moment.

Finally that curse is gone. Just a look at you is enough to make Megumi turn pale in an instant. You’re sitting in a pool of your own blood, lids hanging heavy in your eyes. His heart skips a beat when realization hits him like a wall. You could die right here if he doesn’t do anything.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here”, he mumbles, hands on their way to grab your body.

“I don’t need your help, Fushiguro”, you growl at him.

“Are you sure? Cause it sure does look like it”, Megumi replies dryly and begins to inspect your wounds.

“If even half of that blood is yours you need to get out of here right now. I’m calling Gojo-sensei.”

“Everything hurts”, you blur out.

The sight of your terrified eyes makes Megumi’s heart sink in his chest. He has never seen you like this. But what’s even worse is the fact that he is so damn worried about you, that the thought of losing you alone makes his breath hitch.

“Stay with me. Don’t close your eyes.”

His voice sounds so soft, echoes as sweet as honey in your ear.

“Megumi.”

His strong arms free you from the rest of the rubble above you and lift your numb body off the ground with ease. Your vision slowly but surely begins to get blurry, it gets so hard to keep your tired eyes open.

“What is it, (y/n)?”, he softly asks while maneuvering his shikigami around in order to find the other curses that have to be here.

“I don’t remember a moment where you were so kind to me”, you purr.

“Well, that’s because there wasn’t a single moment where you were so kind to me”, he remarks with a small smile.

“I h-have to say…That…That you’re not…t-that bad.”

Your words are a true mess, so quiet that he has to focus on your low voice in order to understand. But oh you look so lovely, wearing a soft smile on your lips and that tender gleam in your eyes makes his heart skip a beat. Over and over, he told himself that he truly hates you, that you are an evil person that doesn’t deserve his affection. Always keen to hide his stolen glances and the way your sight makes him hold his breath. Your body, your brain, your everything. But seeing you like this, vulnerable laying in his hands, he can’t help but admire you. Admire a woman this strong and independent, a woman who never fears anything.

“You’re pretty okay too I guess”, he replies, hands wrapped tighter around your sagging body.

“How about staying awake for a little longer? I bet you can’t make it until we’re back at Jujutsu High.”

“I bet I will, asshole.”

____________________________________________________________

“She kept bugging me about telling you that she stayed awake to the end. And that you’re a loser.”

“So she’s fine, that’s great!”, Gojo proclaims and pads Megumi’s shoulder.

It was a close call, he knows it. And that sweet seconds just before the wall behind your back shattered…What was that? Affection? No, no, no. That’s simply not possible. You are the worst person walking on this planet. The thought of you alone makes his gut twist in disgust and heats up his face. You drive him crazy like no other. And the fact that you almost died and were a decent person for one second won’t change that.

“Should have left her there. I’m leaving”, Megumi mumbles and turns away.

Why was he here anyway? Shoko already stitched him up a few hours ago, he has no business being in the hospital wing. “Didn’t you want to visit her, Megumi-chan?”

“I would rather train with you than seeing her. Why would I care about her well-being?”, he remarks quickly.

Gojo and Shoko watch him as he storms out.

“Do they really think they hate each other?”

“Yup”, Gojo confirms.

The fresh air of the evening hits his face with full force. Fuck, what the hell is wrong with him? Why is he feeling this way? He shouldn’t be worried about your well-being, he shouldn’t care at all about the fact that you are injured. After all, you put yourself in that situation. God, he just hates you so much. In his world, there’s no place for positive feelings towards you. But still… He stops in his tracks, eyes glued to the ground.

Why does he want to turn around, to let his feet carry him into the hospital room, to sit beside you? What is it that urges him to at least check on you? Pictures of you flood his mind. Your breathtaking smile, the stunning glimmer in your eyes, the confidence that’s dripping from your sweet voice. Why do you have to be so damn perfect and why the hell is his heart beating so fast by the thought of it alone?

As if in trance, he begins to walk back into the direction of the hospital wing, back where you are. He has to prove to himself how much he hates you just one more time. Just once…

He quietly sneaks past the room where he hears Shoko and Gojo still talking. If you have to stay for the night, you have to be down the corridor on the right. Over and over, he looks over his shoulder. If someone catches him sneaking up on you he might need to burry himself alive. All the jokes, the constant teasing from Gojo about you and him really get on his nerves. Why can’t they see that he fucking hates you?

There it is, the door to you. As noiseless as possible he opens it and gets immediately greeted by your gaze. You almost look surprised when he closes the door behind him again and awkwardly stands in the middle of the room, simply staring at you with his hands in his pockets.

“Didn’t expect you here”, you comment dryly.

“Yeah, I didn’t plan on coming either.”

“Did Shoko tell you that I stayed awake?”

“Sure.”

“And that you’re a loser?”

He gifts you with his most annoyed look.

“Yeah.”

“Good. Listen, there’s something I wanted to tell you in person…”, you begin while nervously fumbling with your fingers.

This catches Megumi off guard. You always know what to say or react. How is it possible that you are jumpy? And to top it off, because of him?

“Why did you save me, Megumi?”

What on earth is going on? He scratches the back of his head, too stunned to speak. Are you serious?

“Just because you think I’m the bad guy doesn’t mean I am a bad guy, y’know”, he mumbles.

You let his words sink in, gaze never leaving his face. The last hours really showed you that Megumi isn’t as bad as you always tried to make yourself believe. He saved you despite all the things you said to him without even blinking, risking his own life to save yours. Maybe…maybe it isn’t even hatred you feel towards him.

But something completely different.

“I will never say this again but…I think you’re my favorite enemy”, you confess quietly with a small smile.

Megumi’s heart stops beating for a second, your sweet words triggering feelings in him he tried so hard to avoid. God, how many nights did he tell himself that you are no good, that he just has to hate you with all his heart? But…Is he really hating you though?

“I can probably give that back”, he mumbles.

For once in his life, Megumi sees nothing but your striking beauty and brain when his gaze meets yours. Maybe, just maybe you aren’t as bad as he thought you are. But why does he feel so strongly towards you? What the hell is wrong with his heart?

“Let me kiss you. Just once. Just to prove myself that I hate you”, he blurts out.

You hold your breath, dopamine, adrenalin and who knows what other hormones pump through your veins and leave you dizzy for a second. You didn’t just hallucinate him saying that, right? The sincerity in his eyes tells you he’s dead serious.

“Sure”, you reply automatically.

With fast steps he crosses the room, now standing in front of you. And then he bends down to your bed, grabs your face and kisses you so passionately that you forget how to breathe for a moment. Your tongue intertwines with his, dancing in the most delicate way while you hold onto his strong shoulders for support. Is this really happening or are you dreaming again? Just a few hours ago, you spat venom at him like every other month before. But this…This feels so much better than constantly insulting him and to pretend that you hate him with all your heart. You realize with all clarity of your intense kiss that you probably never really hated him. No, this feeling his completely different from disgust.  

He breaks away from you, panting hard just like you. Your glossy eyes look up to him, hands still resting against his shoulders.

“Yes, I do. I absolutely hate you”, he breathes out.

“I hate you too”, you moan before pulling him close with all force for another passionate kiss.

Maybe, just maybe Megumi Fushiguro isn’t so bad after all.

But just maybe.

_____________________________________________________________

Bonus:

“Oh, (y/n)! Are you feeling any better?”, Yuji shouts at you while waving you over.

“OMG, are you seeing this. Am I dreaming?”, Nobara mutters next to him, completely mesmerized by the sight of you and Megumi.

Are those shikigami? Your hand is intertwined with Megumi’s, the both of you walking next to each other and…smile? Since when exactly are you smiling at Fushiguro?

“What do you mean?...Wait, when the hell did this happen?”

“Megumi, I thought you hate (y/n)!”

“Would you two mind to stop staring at us like that? (y/n) and I are kind of a thing now”, Megumi explains briefly while stopping in front of both of his friends.

“Did he force you into this, (y/n)?”, Nobara whispers in your ear.

You let out a heartfelt laughter, the confusion of your friends matching with your own.

“This might be the worst decision I ever made, but let’s see how it all works out.”

Megumi gives you a reproachful look and squeezes your hand firmer. Oh, even in a relationship, there will always be that small part of him that hates you.

Along with the much bigger part that loves you with all his heart.