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mononijikayu · 3 months ago

Text

delicate — geto suguru.

Suguru glared at Gojo. “I’m not concerned, I just—” “Uh–uhuh, keep talking.” “I’m just some friend—acquaintance. Worried.” Suguru narrowed his eyes. “Seriously, Satoru. I don’t know what you’re going on about. If I'm in love with them, shoot me.” Without missing a beat, Gojo grinned, “Bang.” He made a playful gun gesture with his hand and gave Suguru a wide grin. “Cupid’s bullets confirm!”

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Modern AU!;

WARNING/s: Fluff, Romance,, Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Friendship, Confessions, Humor, Getting Together, Mutual Affection, Love, Pining, Kissing, Profanity, Mention of Fighting, Mention of Bruising, Outcast! Geto Suguru, Popular Cheerleader!Reader;

WORDS: 6.9k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: i made this while thinking about what dynamic i wanted to see between cute couples. and here we are. this was supposed to be shorter too, but it ended up way way longer than 4k words. but im satisfied with this. i hope you enjoy!!! i love you all <3

ADDENDUM: i just found out gege akutami said jjk ends in five chapters and i just want to say that this is going to be hard for me since ive been a fan since 2019.

but i will say ill continue to write as much as i can for this story, enjoy the anime with you for years to come. im sad of course, but im thankful. im grateful for gege akutami for letting me meet his lovely story and his bountiful characters.

and of course because of him, i met all of you. i am very grateful. from beginning to end. i am crying but i am happy too. i love jjk a lot you guys. hugs and kisses to manga fans everywhere. lets hope for a happy end to the story we have loved 🥹🫶

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kayu's playlist - side 900;

if you want to, tip! <3

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🌌*ੈ𑁍༘⋆

YOU WEREN’T LIKE EVERYONE ELSE. You were the it-girl, so sought after. The shining star. You were the girl everyone wanted to be—effortlessly beautiful, charming, and the center of attention at Jujutsu College. As a cheerleader, you had it all: the admiration of your peers, the envy of others, and the kind of popularity that opened every door.

Everywhere you went, eyes followed. Whispers trailed in your wake, a symphony of awe and envy that only fueled your rise to the top. You were untouchable, your smile a weapon, your presence a force. Parties, events, and the campus buzzed with your name. Everyone wanted to be near you, to bask in the glow of your effortless charisma. But all of that came crashing down when you chose to stand up for what you believed was right.

The whispers got worse the moment they took to the locker room. One of the newer cheerleaders, a girl named Emi, was their target—shy, awkward, and an easy mark for their cruelty. You watched it unfold for days, biting your tongue, hoping it would stop. They were the same, the seniors who already graduated. You let them do it then, because you hoped they’d stop like the seniors did. But they did not. Instead, it went too far.

You looked at them for a moment, trying not to be obvious. This was going too far. The girl was about to cry, maybe she’d even get even more hurt. This is enough. You cannot stay and just stay silent anymore. Maybe it was the memory of your own first days on the squad, when you weren’t yet the queen bee, when you still had something to prove. Or maybe it was just a sense of fairness that you couldn’t ignore. But you knew that this had to stop. This has to end.

"God, Emi, you can’t even get a basic cheer right. Why are you even here?" one of the girls sneered, her voice dripping with disdain.

Emi stood frozen, her eyes welling up with tears. The other cheerleaders laughed, egging each other on, pushing her closer to the edge. You bit your lip, closing your locker with a loud bang, causing everyone to look at you. You could feel Emi’s eyes on you too, shaking with fear as tears fell from her cheeks.

“Leave her alone, you freaks!” you said, your voice sharp as you stepped forward. “That is enough. She doesn’t deserve this. You’ve gone too far, even more than our seniors!”

They turned to you, surprise flickering across their faces before it morphed into mockery. You moved forward to the captain, eyes narrowed as you glared at her. You shook your head at her. “Just leave her alone. She’s a freshman. She doesn’t need your shit.”

“What, are you her knight in shining armor now?” one of the lackeys taunted, crossing her arms. “You’re supposed to be on our side, aren’t you? This is a tradition for us seniors.”

“I’m on the side that’s not full of bullies.” you shot back, your anger boiling over. “Being bullied doesn’t mean you should be one!”

“What’s your problem?” another girl snapped, stepping closer, her tone threatening. “She’s dead weight, and you know it.”

You clenched your fists, trying to keep your temper in check. “My problem is that you’re all acting like a bunch of jerks. If you can’t see that, then maybe you’re the dead weight.”

The tension in the room exploded like a storm that had been brewing for too long. You could feel it in the way the air seemed to thicken, in the way eyes narrowed and lips curled into sneers. It started with a harsh word—one of those sly, cutting remarks that slid under the skin like a blade. But this time, you couldn’t let it slide. Not when it was aimed at Emi, the quiet girl who had been on the receiving end of too many of those slights.

You were on your feet before you even realized it, the words spilling out of you in a rush of anger and defiance. “What’s your problem? Why do you always have to pick on someone who’s done nothing to you?”

Your voice cut through the chatter, silencing the room. The others stared at you, shocked that you—of all people—would dare to break ranks. The lead cheerleader, the queen bee, glared at you, her eyes narrowed into slits. “What, are you her bodyguard now? Don’t act like you’re better than us.”

It was the spark that lit the fire. The room erupted into chaos as insults were hurled back and forth. You didn’t back down, not when they turned their barbs on you, not when they sneered at Emi. It all escalated so fast—too fast. Suddenly, hands were shoving, nails were scratching, and before you knew it, you were in the middle of a full-blown fight.

You could barely make sense of it all. The adrenaline surged through you, drowning out the pain as someone’s fist connected with your cheek, leaving a nasty bruise that would bloom later. All you could think about was protecting Emi, keeping her out of the fray, even as the world around you descended into chaos.

The chaos only ended when the coaches rushed in, their voices booming as they waded into the mess of tangled limbs and flaring tempers. They pulled you all apart, demanding to know what had happened, their faces a mix of shock and anger.

But it was too late—the damage was done. You could see it in their eyes, the way they looked at you now, like you were the problem. The principal was called in, and you found yourself standing in his office, staring at the floor as he lectured you about school spirit and the responsibilities that came with your position.

Your words fell on deaf ears. They didn’t want to hear about the bullying, about how you were just trying to protect Emi. All they saw was the fight, the disruption, and the girl who had gone from golden to tarnished in a matter of minutes.

When you returned to the locker room, it was like a slap in the face. Your things had been removed from your team locker, stuffed unceremoniously into a bag and left on the floor. You were no longer welcome. The cheerleaders, the same girls who had once been your closest friends, looked at you with cold eyes and turned their backs.

You had wanted to protect Emi, and now you were left with a throbbing bruise, a reprimand from the principal, and a cold emptiness where your friends used to be. But even as you walked out of that locker room, head held high despite everything, you knew you’d do it all over again. Because some things were worth fighting for, even if it meant losing everything else.

The next day, you found yourself officially kicked off the squad. Well, Emi was also kicked out too, but you were glad that she wasn’t at all hurt. That was what mattered. The news spread like wildfire, and the people who once idolized you now whispered behind your back. Your world felt like it was crumbling, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d made the biggest mistake of your life.

Later that afternoon, you found yourself sitting alone outside, trying to process everything that had happened. Emi had repeatedly apologized to you today, but you kept waving her off and told her to stay safe around school. It wasn’t really her fault. Maybe if you had acted much earlier, maybe Emi wouldn’t have had to go through the worst. Perhaps this was your punishment. This was what happened because of your inaction. And you feel like you deserve this. You deserve to be punished like this. You could only sigh.

That’s when you heard someone approaching.

“You know, I always thought cheerleaders were supposed to be a tight-knit group.” a voice drawled.

You looked up to see Gojo Satoru standing there, hands in his pockets, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. “Guess I was wrong, huh?”

“Guess so.” you muttered, feeling the sting of his words even though they weren’t meant to hurt. “I’m sorry, have I met you before?”

“I don’t think so.” He says, removing his round sunglasses. “Have we met before too?”

“Don’t think so.” You admitted also, face scrunching in confusion. “I don’t meddle around with unpopular kids.”

“Hey, hey, I’m not unpopular.”

“Then why have I never heard of your name before?” You raised your brow.

“I don’t know, maybe you were too focused on being a cheerleader and me being a Digimon stan?”

“Oh, so you’re a nerd!” You clapped your hands together. “That makes sense why I haven’t heard about you.”

He sighed. “You cheerleaders are cut throats, aren’t you?”

“I’m an ex–cheerleader now. Not really much of a cheerleader anymore.” You snickered. “Those pom pom waving mean girls, goodbye them!”

He plopped down next to you, stretching out his long legs. “So, what’s the plan now? Are you gonna go all lone wolf, or are you open to a new company?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Why do you care?”

Gojo shrugged, his smile widening. “Because I’m curious about the girl who went from queen bee to outcast in one day. That takes guts.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, though it came out a little bitter. “Or stupidity.”

“Or both, you know?” he agreed easily. “But I like guts. So does Shoko. And Suguru. And Kento and Haibara. You’d fit right in with us.”

“Fit in?” you echoed, not sure if he was being serious. Your face reminded Satoru of how Kento reacted to him asking to be his friend.

“Yeah.” he said, leaning back on his hands, looking up at the sky. “We’re not exactly the most popular kids on campus, but we’re fun. And we don’t care about that petty stuff.”

Before you could respond, Shoko Ieiri appeared, hands stuffed in her lab coat pockets, a cigarette dangling from her lips. “You’re not bothering her, are you, Gojo?”

“Me? Bother someone? Never, Sho.” Gojo said, feigning innocence. “Just making a new friend.”

Shoko rolled her eyes and looked at you. “He’s right, though. You’re welcome to hang with us if you want.”

You hesitated, glancing between them. “I don’t know…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Shoko said with a lazy grin. “We don’t bite. Well, maybe Gojo does, but only if you ask nicely.”

You laughed again, this time more genuinely. “Okay… I guess I’ll give it a shot.”

As the days passed, you found yourself drifting away from the cheerleaders and into a new circle. It started subtly at first, with Gojo casually inviting you to sit with him and Shoko during lunch. Gojo’s easygoing nature made it hard to say no, and Shoko’s dry humor quickly drew you in.

They didn’t seem to care about the drama that had turned your life upside down. Gojo’s bright grin and carefree attitude were a stark contrast to the cold shoulders you’d been getting from your former friends. Shoko, with her sharp wit and laid-back demeanor, offered a kind of friendship that felt refreshing, real in a way that the cheerleading squad never had.

Soon, Geto Suguru and Nanami Kento joined in. Suguru had a quiet confidence about him, a steady presence that was both comforting and intriguing. He didn’t ask about the fight or why you weren’t with the cheerleaders anymore. Instead, he offered a warm smile and an understanding nod, as if he knew without needing to be told.

Nanami, on the other hand, was more reserved. He didn’t speak much at first, but his presence was reassuring. There was a steadiness to him, a sense of reliability that you hadn’t realized you craved. He welcomed you into their group with a subtle nod, a small but genuine gesture that told you he saw you for who you were now, not who you had been before.

Each of them, in their own way, made room for you. They didn’t treat you like the fallen star or the girl with the tarnished reputation. With them, you didn’t have to pretend. You could be yourself—no masks, no expectations.And slowly, you began to feel something you hadn’t felt in a long time: belonging.

That afternoon, all of you were sitting together under a tree on campus, watching the world go by. Geto Suguru was in the middle of explaining something, his voice calm and soothing, while Nanami listened quietly, offering his thoughts every now and then. Yu was more excited trying to make friends with you than before. You think it's interesting, how this ball of sunshine saw you as some sort of superhero for what you did, even if you didn’t.

Yu Haibara, ever the sunshine in human form, plopped down beside you with a grin. “Hey, I heard about what happened with the cheer squad. Pretty badass, if you ask me.”

You smiled, feeling the warmth of genuine friendship for the first time in what felt like forever. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure if it was the right thing, but…”

“It was! You’re so cool, you know?” Haibara said firmly. “Standing up for someone who needed it? That’s always the right thing.”

“Besides, it’s just what it is, you know?” Geto added, looking over at you. He was smoking his cigarette roll, one he made himself. “You don’t have to be what you aren’t.”

“Yeah.” Nanami agreed, his voice steady and reassuring. “You don’t have to pretend to be something you’re not with us.”

You looked around at them—this group of people who had taken you in without hesitation, who saw you for who you really were, not just the image you had projected for so long. And for the first time in a while, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

As the weeks went by, you found a surprising sense of belonging with Gojo, Shoko, Suguru, Nanami, and Yu. They had become your new circle of friends, and their acceptance gave you a fresh start that you didn’t know you needed. They were a new sort of fun, a different kind of excitement that was worlds apart from the polished, high-pressure life you’d known as the it-girl.

With them, your days became filled with spontaneous adventures. Gojo was always dragging everyone to the arcade, where his competitive streak made every game feel like a high-stakes challenge. Shoko would roll her eyes at his antics but still join in, her laughter adding to the cacophony of beeping machines and cheerful music. Suguru, ever the cool-headed one, had a knack for choosing the perfect music stores to visit, introducing you to tracks that soon became the soundtrack to this new chapter of your life.

Nanami and Suguru were more reserved, especially at first. You could tell they were still feeling you out, trying to figure out if you really fit into their group. But even in their uncertainty, they made an effort. Nanami, despite his serious demeanor, would show up at the burger joints Gojo loved, quietly indulging in the greasy food and ridiculous banter. Suguru, with his calm presence, would often give you a slight smile or a nod, a small but significant sign that you were being welcomed, even if it was cautiously.

Yu was the glue that held it all together, his infectious energy and boundless enthusiasm pulling everyone along. Satoru was as enthusiastic as he was, but unlike him — Yu was someone that tried to keep everyone in good peace together. And he was good. He had a way of making you feel included, whether it was by handing you a spare controller at the arcade or making sure you got the best seat at the burger joint.

That’s just how it was with them. You didn’t have to worry about the petty dramas or the constant pressure to be perfect. With this group, it was all about the moment—the thrill of a high score, the taste of a greasy burger, the discovery of a new song. And you liked it. You liked who you were becoming with them.

Gojo leaned back in his chair, tossing a sugar packet from one hand to the other. “You know, you fit in with us better than you did with that cheer squad.”

You shot him a playful glare. “Are you saying I was too good for them?”

Shoko rolled her eyes. “Stop teasing, Gojo. You’re ruining the vibe.”

“Hey, I’m not!” Gojo argues as his grin spreads, “Just that our new friend here is way cooler than they ever gave them credit for.”

You looked at Shoko, who was sipping her coffee with a look of amused tolerance, added, “He’s right. They were just too busy with their drama to see how awesome you are.”

Suguru, sitting across from you, offered a more thoughtful observation. He bit into his fries. “Sometimes, it takes getting knocked down to realize where you truly belong. You were always meant to be with people who appreciate you for who you are.”

Nanami, who had been quietly observing, nodded in agreement. “You’re a good blend with us, I think. We’ve had a lot of fun since you joined us.”

Yu Haibara, always the optimist, leaned in with a grin. “Yeah, and you’ve made things a lot more interesting around here. It’s not every day we get someone with your… spirit.”

You smiled, feeling a warm flush of gratitude. “Thanks, guys. I wasn’t sure where I’d fit in after everything that happened, but I really appreciate how welcoming you’ve all been.”

The conversation shifted to lighter topics, and you found yourself laughing more than you had in a long time. It was a refreshing change from the pressure and pretense of your previous life.

As the night wore on, Gojo suddenly stood up and stretched. “Hey, who’s up for a late-night walk? I heard there’s a new food truck downtown.”

Shoko raised an eyebrow. “You just want an excuse to get more snacks.”

“Guilty as charged.” Gojo admitted with a wink. “But you’re all welcome to join if you’re up for it.”

“Sounds good to me.” Suguru said, standing up and grabbing his coat.

You looked around at your friends, feeling a genuine sense of contentment. “I’m in.”

“You feeling cold?” Suguru asked as he saw you stand from the booth.

“A little—” He threw you his jacket, which you were barely able to catch.

“Put it on.”

“O–oh, okay.”

As you all walked together through the city streets, the cool night air filled with laughter and conversation, you realized how different this life felt from the one you had left behind. There were no superficial judgments, no hidden agendas—just a group of people who valued each other’s company and had each other’s backs.

Later, as you shared food and stories under the streetlights, you found yourself in a moment of quiet reflection. You had come so far from the popular girl who had been kicked out of the cheer squad. You were no longer defined by your past status or the mistakes you’d made. Instead, you were part of a new chapter, one where you were valued for who you truly were.

Gojo’s laughter broke through your thoughts as he tossed a piece of popcorn into the air, catching it with a grin. “See? This is what life’s about—good friends, good food, and not taking things too seriously.”

You laughed, feeling the weight of the past lift off your shoulders. “I couldn’t agree more.”

In that moment, you knew that despite everything you had been through, you had found something real and genuine. And as you walked beside your new friends, you felt a renewed sense of hope for the future, knowing that wherever life took you next, you would face it with people who truly cared about you.

But in that moment, Geto Suguru looked at you and thought to himself for a moment, just for that moment — how good happiness looks on you.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🌌*ੈ𑁍༘⋆

IF HE WAS BEING HONEST, HE’S NOT ONE TO TRUST PEOPLE EASILY. But coming from a rough place in life, it was something that can’t be helped. So, in the beginning, Geto Suguru had his reservations about you. He’d heard the rumors about the cheerleader who had once been the queen of Jujutsu College, and he wasn’t impressed. To him, you seemed like just another snob who was used to getting their way and couldn’t be bothered with anyone outside her circle.

When Gojo tried to blend you into the group, Suguru’s attitude was guarded, and for a good reason. So, he kept his distance and even interacted with you, he tried to be casual, trying to not get too deep into it.

He remembers what he said then — “I’m not really into the whole ‘cheerleader’ thing,” he’d said with a shrug. “Not my style. So they're still not my style either.”

You had sensed his cold demeanor but tried not to let it bother you. Instead, you focused on being yourself—friendly, outgoing, and always ready to lend a hand. You wanted to prove that you weren’t just the image people had of you. Even though you could still be rough in the edges with your personality, it didn’t stop people from enjoying your company.

And over time, Geto Suguru began to see a different side of you. You didn’t just laugh at his jokes or offer superficial compliments, nor were you as stuck up as people make you out to be; you were genuinely kind and considerate. You had a really good way of making others feel comfortable, and it wasn’t long before he found himself intrigued by the real you, the one who went out of their way to help others despite their own struggles.

One evening, as the group hung out at a quiet park, you were sitting on the grass, talking animatedly about a new project you were excited about. If he was being honest, excitement was a beautiful color on you. And he thinks that he wants to see more of that in you. He could only sigh as he thought about how much you’ve occupied his mind. He shakes his head. Suguru looks above the sky, trying to distract himself while Satoru spoke to everyone about his new date.

“You know, Suguru.” you said, glancing over at him, snapping him back to reality. “I really appreciate how you’ve been around lately. And how not awkward it is between us now. It means a lot to me.”

Suguru raised an eyebrow. “I’m just here because Gojo dragged me along. Don’t get any ideas.”

You laughed, unfazed. “Yeah, yeah. But seriously, you’re not as bad as I thought you’d be. I guess we’re not so different after all.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe. But don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not here to make friends. I’m here because I have to be.”

Despite his words, you noticed subtle changes in his behavior. He was more engaged in conversations around you, his smiles more frequent, and he’d even started teasing you back. You found yourself drawn to him more and more, your feelings shifting from admiration to something deeper. The way he would look at you, even with his usual aloofness, made your heart race.

After a particularly lively conversation about your favorite books, Suguru caught you off guard with a rare moment of vulnerability. He looked at you with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

“You’re really persistent, you know that?” he said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “I didn’t think I’d be saying this, but you’ve managed to get under my skin.”

You grinned, feeling a rush of hope. “Is that a good thing?”

Suguru looked away, his expression turning more serious. “I’m not sure. I told myself I’d just tolerate you, but… the more I hang around, the harder it is to keep my distance.”

He was fighting it, trying to convince himself that his growing feelings for you were nothing more than an annoyance. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do.” he continued, frustration evident in his voice. “But I’m not someone who easily changes his mind. So don’t expect too much.”

Despite his words, there was a softness in his eyes when he looked at you, a clear sign that he was fighting a losing battle. The more you interacted, the more he found himself charmed by your genuine warmth and infectious enthusiasm. And he didn’t know what to feel about that. He doesn’t know how to react to you.

You were infatuated with him, and it became clear that you wanted his attention—more than just casual conversation, more than friendly banter. You wanted to be the one who made him smile, the one he thought about when he was alone.

And though Suguru tried to keep his distance, you could see the cracks in his resolve. His stoic exterior was melting away, little by little, with every shared laugh, every meaningful conversation. He couldn’t deny the way he felt any longer, no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise.

In moments of quiet, when it was just the two of you, Geto Suguru’s demeanor softened. He would catch himself gazing at you with an expression that betrayed his irritation with his own feelings. He was torn between his desire to remain aloof and the undeniable pull he felt towards you. As you continued to be your bubbly, charming self, Suguru found himself drawn to you more and more, fighting a battle he wasn’t sure he wanted to win.

The house party was in full swing by the time you and your friends arrived. The sorority house was buzzing with energy, and the crowd was a mix of familiar faces and new ones. You were excited to be there, especially because you had a date with you—Mark, a guy you had been seeing for a few weeks.

Suguru Geto, always the reserved observer, was there too, though he seemed more detached from the festivities. He had taken a spot near the snack table, his gaze scanning the room. When he noticed you with Mark, he gave a curt nod but didn’t say much.

As the night progressed, Suguru found himself cornered by Mark, who was chatting animatedly with a group of people. You had gone off to mingle with others, leaving Mark to his own devices. Suguru, being the stand-up guy he was, decided to introduce himself.

“Hey, I’m Suguru.” he said, offering a polite smile. “So, what’s your story, bro?”

Mark took a swig of his drink and grinned. “Oh, I’m just here to have a good time, mess around, party hard. You know how it is.”

Suguru nodded, trying to make conversation. “Yeah, I get it. So, how long have you and my friend been seeing each other?”

Mark’s smile faltered slightly. “A few weeks. But, honestly, they're kind of a handful.”

Suguru’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he kept his tone neutral. “Oh? How so?”

Mark shrugged, looking around to make sure no one else was listening. “They’re always so cheerful and in-your-face. It gets old pretty fast. And don’t get me started on their mood swings. Sometimes they’re all sunshine and other times, they’re just… exhausting.”

Suguru’s smile faltered, and he could feel a simmering anger rising. “I wouldn’t say that. They’re actually really kind and caring. Maybe they’re just passionate around you.”

Mark snorted. “Passionate? More like over–dramatic. You must be used to it, though, considering you hang out with them.”

Suguru’s jaw tightened. “I think you should stop talking about them like that.”

Mark raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the reaction he was getting. “Why? It’s the truth. You know, they could be a lot better if they just… toned it down a bit.”

Suguru’s eyes darkened as he took a deep breath. “Seriously, stop it.”

Mark continued, oblivious to Suguru’s mounting frustration. “They’re always making everything about themselves, always trying to be the center of attention. I don’t get why you’d even bother with them. They’re literally like….a bitch..”

Without warning, Suguru’s hand tightened around his beer bottle. He took a step forward, his voice low and dangerous. “I said, stop.”

The tension in the room was thick, a simmering undercurrent that everyone felt but no one acknowledged—until Mark pushed too far. He had been needling Suguru all night, his criticisms growing more pointed, more personal with each passing minute. The rest of you tried to steer the conversation away, but Mark wouldn’t let it go, his words becoming sharper, crueler.

Suguru had been holding back, his calm facade cracking only slightly as he tried to keep his temper in check. But when Mark ignored him and continued with his relentless criticisms, something inside Suguru snapped.

In an instant, he moved. With a swift, fluid motion, Suguru swung his beer bottle, the action so smooth it was almost graceful. The bottle connected with Mark’s face with a sharp crack. The impact was immediate and satisfying, sending Mark stumbling backward as beer splashed across the floor, the bottle shattering in Suguru’s hand.

The room fell into stunned silence.

“Goddamn it, Suguru!” Shoko’s voice was the first to break the quiet, a mix of shock and exasperation. She stepped forward, ready to pull Suguru back if needed, though there was a slight smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. “Couldn’t you have at least waited until he finished his drink?”

Nanami, who had been lounging in the corner, raised an eyebrow but didn’t move from his spot. “Well, that escalated quickly.”

Shoko sighed deeply, looking around. “I’ll call someone to clean this up. And maybe get some ice for Mark.”

Mark, clutching his face where Suguru had punched him, looked up in stunned disbelief. “What the hell, man? You’re crazy!”

Suguru’s eyes were cold as he glared down at him. “No. I’m done listening to your crap. You should’ve known when to shut up.”

“You all are a bunch of crazy freaks! Especially that bitch!”

“You don’t get to talk about them like that!” Suguru said, his voice steady but filled with a cold edge. “Not on my watch.”

Mark looked up at him, a mix of pain and surprise in his eyes. He didn’t say anything, just backed away slowly, still holding his nose. Yu came between them. “Hey, hey. Let’s all calm down, okay?”

Suguru turned on his heel and walked away, heading outside to cool down. He needed some fresh air and space to collect his thoughts. You, having witnessed the altercation from a distance, rushed over to Suguru, concern etched on your face.

You spotted Suguru standing alone in the hallway, his gaze distant as he tried to calm down from the confrontation. Determined to get some answers, you made a beeline for him, your concern and curiosity palpable.

“Suguru, what happened back there?” you asked, trying to piece together the events of the night. “Why did you hit Mark?”

Suguru glanced at you, his expression a mix of embarrassment and frustration. “It was nothing. He just… he crossed a line.”

“No,” you said, putting the pieces together with a sudden burst of realization. “He called me a bitch, didn’t he? That’s why you hit him. You hit him for me!”

Suguru looked away, his cheeks tinged with a hint of pink. “No, that’s not—”

“Yes, it is!” you interrupted, your excitement and relief bubbling over. “I know I can be a lot sometimes, and I am a bitch! But you actually care about me. You love me, don’t you?”

Suguru’s face turned a deeper shade of red, and he mumbled, “No…I didn’t…”

Suguru’s thoughts were still a whirlwind, his mind racing to process the events of the night and the emotions that came with them. He needed to clear his head, and talking to Gojo seemed like the quickest way to do that. He excused himself and quickly went back inside. As he entered the kitchen, the room was a stark contrast to the chaos outside—bright, warm, and filled with the comforting aroma of Gojo Satoru’s sandwich-making.

Gojo stood by the counter, casually assembling a towering sandwich with practiced ease. His movements were relaxed and carefree, a stark contrast to the tension that Suguru was radiating. He glanced up, taking in the scene with a curious, slightly amused expression.

“What’s going on, man?” Gojo asked, his tone light as he continued to layer on the ingredients. “I heard there was a bit of a commotion.”

Suguru tried to compose himself, but the frustration was evident in his voice. “Mark was being a complete jerk. He was bad-mouthing them, and I… I lost my temper.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “He was talking about them? What did he say?”

Suguru’s jaw clenched as he recounted the encounter. “He kept going on about how they are a handful and how they’re exhausting. He was just being really disrespectful. Even called them a bitch, mind you!”

Gojo’s eyebrows knitted together in surprise. “And you punched him for it?”

Suguru nodded, his gaze intense. “Yeah, I did. He wouldn’t stop, and I just couldn’t let him keep talking like that.”

Gojo’s expression shifted from amusement to genuine concern. “Are they okay?”

Suguru’s frustration softened a bit as he considered your well-being. “They’re fine. I mean, they did seem surprised, maybe in some way upset, I don’t know. But they’re okay. It’s just… I don’t like seeing them being talked about like that.”

Gojo’s eyes sparkled with a mix of mischief and understanding. “So, you’re defending them, huh?”

Suguru’s face flushed slightly, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s not just about defending them. It’s just—”

Gojo looked up from his sandwich-making with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah, but is your lover okay?”

Suguru froze, caught off guard. “They are not my lover, Gojo.” he snapped, defensively. “They are just—”

Gojo’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Oh? Then why’d you hit him? Seems like you’re more concerned than you’re letting on.”

Suguru glared at Gojo. “I’m not concerned, I just—”

“Uh–uhuh, keep talking.”

“I’m just some friend—acquaintance. Worried.” Suguru narrowed his eyes. “Seriously, Satoru. I don’t know what you’re going on about. If I'm in love with them, shoot me.”

Without missing a beat, Gojo grinned, “Bang.” He made a playful gun gesture with his hand and gave Suguru a wide grin. “Cupid’s bullets confirm!”

Suguru stared at him, dumbfounded. “Are you serious? This is not—”

Gojo laughed, clearly enjoying the confusion. “Just kidding, Suguru. You know I’m just messing with you.”

Suguru sighed heavily, his frustration giving way to a reluctant chuckle. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Gojo shrugged, still grinning. “Just having a bit of fun. But seriously, if you need to talk or if something’s going on, I’m here. Just don’t let things like this get you too worked up.”

Suguru nodded, a mix of relief and embarrassment on his face. “Thanks, Gojo. I guess I needed that.”

With a final, reassuring pat on Suguru’s shoulder, Gojo returned to his sandwich-making. He took a deep breath and went back outside. You were talking with Shoko when you noticed Suguru come back outside towards your way. You were about to speak when Suguru turned back to you. There was a softer, more earnest look in his eyes as he met your gaze.

He looked at you with a determination, his voice steady but kind. “Take your coat, doll.” he said, offering it to you. “We’re getting out of here.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by his sudden decision but relieved by the prospect of escaping the party. Without protest, you slipped on your coat and followed him out into the cool night air. The contrast between the cold outside and the warmth of the party was a welcome change, the crisp air a refreshing balm against your senses.

As you walked to the parking lot, Suguru’s silence was a comforting presence. His demeanor was calm and purposeful, a stark contrast to the turbulence of the evening. He led you to his car, and you both got in, the engine’s hum a soothing sound against the backdrop of the night.

Soon enough, you found yourselves parked in the lot of a nearby fast-food chain. The neon lights of the restaurant flickered against the dark sky, casting an almost surreal glow over the scene. It felt like a world away from the party, a simple, unpretentious refuge.

Suguru ordered a handful of burgers and fries, his movements deliberate and focused. You followed suit, choosing your favorites with a sense of familiarity. As you both settled on the hood of the car, the comfort of the fast food and the tranquility of the night began to ease the tension.

You took a bite of your burger, the flavors surprisingly comforting. Despite the simplicity of the setting, there was something deeply satisfying about the moment. “This is the best date ever.” you said with a grin, the warmth of the food and Suguru’s presence making the night feel a little brighter.

Suguru looked at you, a bemused expression on his face. “We haven’t talked in half an hour.”

“That doesn’t matter,” you said, shaking your head. “It’s nice just being with you, even if this doesn’t seem like much.”

Suguru looked away, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “It’s not as bad as going bowling.”

You blinked, puzzled. “Bowling? I didn’t know you liked bowling.”

He shrugged, leaning back against the car. “I do. It’s something I enjoy, and being with you is kind of like that—enjoyable and relaxing, even if it’s not always fancy.”

You tilted your head, contemplating his words. Then, feeling bold, you leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. Suguru’s eyes widened slightly, but he responded, kissing you back with a tenderness that melted away any remaining tension.

When you finally parted, you looked up at him, a soft smile on your lips. “Not too bad?”

Suguru’s gaze softened as he met your eyes, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “Not too bad.” he agreed, his voice warm.

You both shared a comfortable silence, the world outside the fast-food restaurant feeling a million miles away. As you finished your burgers and settled back into a peaceful quiet, you knew that despite everything, moments like these were what mattered most.

You and Suguru remained on the car hood, finishing off the last of your burgers. The night was crisp and clear, the occasional hum of passing cars providing a steady backdrop to your conversation.

“So, what’s your favorite part about bowling?” you asked, genuinely curious and trying to keep the mood light.

Suguru chuckled, a soft sound that warmed the chilly air. “It’s the combination of skill and luck, I guess. Plus, it’s fun to just throw the ball and watch it knock down the pins. It’s simple, but satisfying.”

You smiled, enjoying his enthusiasm. “Maybe we should go bowling sometime. It sounds like it could be a lot of fun.”

Suguru’s eyes twinkled as he looked at you. “I’d like that. I think you’d be pretty good at it. You’ve got a good arm from throwing those frisbees around at the park.”

You laughed, leaning into him. “You think so? I’ll hold you to that.”

Suguru wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer. “It’s a promise.”

The warmth of his embrace was comforting, and you snuggled closer, resting your head on his shoulder. The night was quiet, and for a while, you just enjoyed the peacefulness of the moment.

Suguru glanced at you, his expression softening even further. “You know, despite everything that happened tonight, I’m really glad we ended up here. I like these moments with you. They remind me of why I care so much.”

You tilted your head up to look at him, your eyes reflecting the soft glow of the streetlights. “Me too, Suguru. It’s the simple things, like eating burgers and talking about bowling, that make me realize how much I enjoy being with you.”

Suguru gave a small, affectionate smile, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek. “Sometimes, it’s the simple things that mean the most.”

You sighed contentedly, feeling a deep sense of connection. “I guess that’s true. And, even though tonight didn’t go as planned, it ended up being pretty perfect in its own way.”

Suguru chuckled softly, his gaze fixed on you. “Yeah, it did.”

You both sat there for a while longer, sharing soft kisses and quiet laughter, savoring the simplicity of the moment. The night air was cool, but the warmth between you made it feel like the coziest place in the world.

Eventually, Suguru shifted slightly, pulling you closer as he gave you a tender kiss on the forehead. “Let’s head back. I think we’ve had enough excitement for one night.”

You nodded, standing up and stretching as Suguru helped you off the car hood. “Sounds good. But we definitely need to plan that bowling trip soon.”

Suguru laughed, offering you his hand. “It’s a date.”

As you walked back to the car, hand in hand, the night seemed a little brighter, and the world a little warmer. The small, spontaneous moments were what made your time together truly special, and you both knew that, no matter what, you’d always find a way to cherish them.

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gotham-daydreams · 1 year ago

Note

How would it have gone differently if Reader didn't try to be an "overachiever" and instead just stayed quiet and didn't interact with anyone besides Alfred until they left? Their room they left being mostly blank, with only the music journals? Giving up on trying to get their attention.

I think what's so funny about this ask, to me, is that I already have a concept like this written down (along with 3 others since the current reader I'm writing for the "Not [ ]" series is one of them but with a few missing details), so this'll be fun!

I guess it generally goes how you'd expect? Which is different for the most part, but the reader's perspective on what's happening is also different.

Granted, I would like to point out that, at least for this particular concept and the idea I have for it of how this would go, does have more stuff going on pre-Batfam that do affect how they perceive what's happening, and that's what makes things interesting in my opinion. Because someone can be naturally shy or just overall more reserved either out of nature or because they feel a certain way, but still feel bad about being neglected and, despite their lack of effort, feel that pain just as much as someone who's tried. Which is valid! Besides, someone's definition of 'trying' can vary as well.

Everyone should have a chance to have a family, and form some kind of connection with people. Just because you aren't going above and beyond for one person, doesn't mean you're undeserving of certain things. Especially not a chance to have a family, or feel like you have one. That's what I think anyway.

Nevertheless, back to the reader!

From the original concept, I will be tweaking a few things to fit the ask, but the same general outcome remains! Though again, the reader's perspective on things is a tad different. But how about this- I'll show two versions of the reader.

One that's quiet and more reserved because they gave up much earlier, or just generally hopeless really early on because maybe they felt as if anything they'd do just wouldn't be enough, who'll be accurately named Quiet!Reader. With the other being more closely related to the concept I wrote for such an idea, that we'll refer to as Waiting!Reader.

Quiet!Reader would change up things quite a bit! I won't lie!

They might already have bad self-esteem that's quick to develop at the start of things, which is something to note as that doesn't get better with time. They grow more cold and distant from the family at a quicker pace both from personal and external reasons.

Put simply, they don't feel good enough, and even if they did- anything they could do to get the Batfam's attention would never be enough in their eyes. To which, they see very early on when they try to engage and do some things with the family, only to be turned down. What doesn't help is when Quiet!Reader sees Damian get adopted and almost immediately showered with love, (compared to them) and that really cements some ideas that were already developing in their head about the family.

When Damian comes into the picture, they feel replaced. Seeing him as someone to fill in the 'youngest Wayne' role instead of them, so that Bruce and the others actually have someone to acknowledge for such a title. Just someone else to further take away the little they had.

So, they further step out of the way, glaring at the Batfam with tired eyes before that eventually stops too. Envy clawing at their heart, hatred being sent through waves of pain all throughout their body. Hurt unmatched. Yet they still remain invisible. Quiet as ever. Unnoticed. Everything they ever felt dies down, and forms a cold numbness that they begin to associate with the family.

Maybe through that, they feel closer to the family in some twisted way. Now just as cold as them. Just as talkative, and just as engaging. Almost mirroring them, but they're honest about how they feel. Honest about what they think, and therefore better. At least when compared to the Batfam- and to them, even if it wasn't a high bar to reach anyway, at least it counts for something.

It was never Damian's fault, or really about Damian at all. It could've been anyone else and Quiet!Reader would've still reacted the same way, they know that. Though just seeing the Batfam show love and care to him and not them just makes them feel... worse.

Clearly they're capable of love, and can notice new additions to the family (to which they may have mostly believed that the Batfam's neglect was just something the family did for whatever reason, and thought that them being the youngest had something to do with it for a while) and that breaks the reader. It doesn't hurt, not as much as it would've, maybe, but whatever hurt is there dies down quickly as Quiet!Reader, well, quietly accepts their fate.

The Batfam clearly wants nothing to do with them, so why should they try to do all of these things for them? It's simple, they shouldn't. So they don't. Quiet!Reader gives up, and continues to live their life without them.

The Manor just becomes a place they sleep in, and nothing else. It isn't anything close to a home, and not even Alfred can help with that.

It's because of that little fact, however, that Quiet!Reader leaves much sooner than the reader in the "Not [ ]" series. Maybe once they get a friend they can trust, they essentially end up living with said friend, hence why their room remains so empty. The notebooks they even keep in the room they have in the Manor is from when they were way younger, instead of just being from a few months ago or so. We're talking years since Quiet!Reader has touched those things now.

Maybe they do 'officially' leave a month or so before they usually would as an overachiever in the "Not [ ]" series, having only bothered to return so often before because of Alfred. Though even then, they'd forget to return most nights- only being reminded to even try and go back once Alfred would personally call them, and ask them where they were.

However now, after a while of just the time between them basically living with their friend and sleeping at the manor, they stop returning altogether. Though this time around they instead personally go to Alfred to say they're goodbyes. Not explaining much, but just saying that while they might still try to come and visit him sometimes, they don't live in the Manor anymore. Alfred already knows this, and the embrace they share fully hammers in that fact.

Yet when Quiet!Reader turns away, and leaves the Manor for good- even through the front door at that. Alfred can't help but just... miss them already.

You see, while Quiet!Reader is indeed quieter and more reserved, especially towards the Batfam, with Alfred really being the only exception, they still made music.

Maybe they didn't have as many concerts or physical, grand, live performances compared to the reader in the "Not [ ]" series, they not only started earlier, but may have actually started out on a social platform such a youtube. They really started out small, but were able to find and start their passion much earlier!

Most of what they played was when they were in the Manor, but slowly they started to get involved with things music related outside of the Manor and in Gotham- and from there were able to build themselves up even more. Hell, I'd even say that Quiet!Reader is a little more well-known and popular than the reader in the "Not [ ]" series because of the amount of extra time they dedicated to their passion.

So basically, Alfred this time around has more recordings and such of Quiet!Reader actually doing something they love than with the one in the series. However! Funnily enough, they're gone for a shorter amount of time despite having left earlier than normal.

Alfred is just, extra fed up with this nonsense, and so pulls his tricks more early on, but also make them hit harder.

He doesn't clean Quiet!Reader's room to show how long they've been gone, adding onto the emptiness and almost abandoned feeling the room itself gives off because of how bare and empty it is. They're music haunts the halls, subtle, sure, but still noticeable- especially to those who are hyper aware all the time. Pictures of Quiet!Reader and Alfred begin to be hung up, and if he can manage- some with Quiet!Reader and their friends during important parts of their life.

No one is safe from the guilt and anguish Alfred seeks to cause to not only have the Batfam look for you, but most importantly, to finally notice you.

Let's just say, things work out a little too well.

---

As for Waiting!Reader? Oh man, I've been wanting to rant about them for a while!

Unlike the reader in the "Not [ ]" series and Quiet!Reader, Waiting!Reader had some semblance of a life before getting adopted into the Batfam. Though the idea and character themself isn't musically inclined/involved in music, or even all that interested in music for that matter- for the sake of this ask, lets say they are!

I won't dabble too much into the life Waiting!Reader had before the Batfam, as if I do end up writing them I'd also like to keep some details vague (for the sake of leaving it up to interpretation and everything), but just know that during the time they were still with their original family, they were essentially taught that they should 'wait their turn', and eventually their parents would spend time with them and care for them. Hence the little name I've given them.

So! When they get to the Manor and are officially adopted, only to be neglected and ignored during their first few attempts- because of their young age, they immediately think "oh! they're just like mom and dad!" So they 'wait' for 'their turn', believing that eventually, should they wait long enough, they'll be rewarded with bonding and such from the Batfam just as they were with their previous parents.

This mindset changes what they do as well, as Waiting!Reader even goes out of their way to not bother anyone, or "get in the way" of whatever they could be doing. Waiting!Reader treats the situation so much like their previous home life, that sometimes they might even forget that the Batfam are completely different people from their parents. The only real difference that they can think of is that they're not acknowledged at all and it seems like their 'turn' never comes. Though for a while that doesn't get them down. The Batfam is busy like they're parents were! Waiting!Reader is sure that when things die down then they'll have their time.

... Hopefully.

I can imagine that part of the reason why Waiting!Reader holds on to hope for so long is because, again, their own parents constantly reassured them that they would have their time eventually. That if they behaved, and stayed out of the way, then they would go somewhere fun with their parents and essentially be rewarded for their efforts. They were conditioned to wait, to be patient, and just comply until those around them decided to actually take care of them, and spend time with them.

Of course, as they grow up the reality of the situation does hit them eventually, but during that time they do try.

Waiting!Reader helps Alfred around the house, and so they mostly bond over doing chores, among other things. They are also more mindful, and try to keep the amount of noise they back down— so they actually don't play at the Manor all that often, and instead play literally anywhere else. If and when they do play outside, around the area of the Manor like in the gardens or something, they make sure no one is around before even thinking of playing.

Alfred does help them break a few of their habits that they got while living with their parents, but the one thing he can't seem to 'fix' is how absolutely quiet Waiting!Reader is when they walk around. Which, as on can imagine, doesn't exactly help in a situation where the whole family, except for the butler, is neglecting you.

The amount of times Waiting!Reader has caught Alfred off guard is more then you'd think for someone that works with the Dark Knight, and his various sidekicks and such, over the years. Which does say something, sure, but it's also funny!

Regardless, similar to Quiet!Reader, Waiting!Reader is able to start their musical career earlier than normal, and thuse becomes a little more popular than they would originally. However, they're more known for their live performances and giving back to the community. Seemingly just like Bruce as they attend charity event after charity event, and try to do good by the people.

Waiting!Reader also does genuinely try to become a vigilante as well, but they do so in a way where they only take care of the smaller/medium guys, and leave the bigger ones to the rest of the Batfam. This is because they want to remove possible distractions for their family, and while they would try to take on "bigger guys", they don't think they're skilled enough or experienced enough to even think about it. So they don't even try. (They also don't have the same theme as the Batfam- since they don't want to 'ruin' their reputation with what they're doing or something. Which does hell them further detach themself from the family later on.)

I'd say that with Waiting!Reader, the difference between them and the Batfam is more clear to them? Like, to them, the Batfam are just so good at what they do that they have no hope of reaching them. So instead of trying to reach for them, they just do their own thing and try to help in their own way.

Because Waiting!Reader takes care of smaller guys, they are kind of closer to Waiting!Reader as a vigilante.

The best way I can put it is that while the community trusts Batman and the members of the Batfam to save their city, they trust Waiting!Reader to save their homes.

So basically- Batfam is the bigger picture while Waiting!Reader focuses on the smaller picture.

Nevertheless! Also like Quiet!Reader, Waiting!Reader actually leaves earlier. Except when they leave, they leave.

Waiting!Reader straight up leaves Gotham City to attend the college that they want to go to, in an area that has more opportunity for them, that isn't close to where the Batfam lives or patrols.

So they not only leave earlier, but it also takes the Batfam longer to find them. Especially because Waiting!Reader does still do some things in Gotham, they just don't live there anymore.

I feel like out of all three readers, Waiting!Reader definitely feels like the kind of person that someone would assume is some kind of "Phantom of the Wayne Manor," y'know?

So Alfred definitely tries to make the Batfam feel bad like he does with Quiet!Reader. Except how anyone in the Batfam is reminded that Waiting!Reader even exists, and that they've been gone for a while now is through a letter that is accidentally sent to the Wayne Manor from one of Waiting!Reader's fans. From there, some research does start and the more the Batfam learns, the more they want to go and find the reader- you know the deal.

I hope this answered your question even if I really did ramble on this time- if you'd like me to clarify anything or go into more detail on a specific part, feel free to send in an ask!

#platonic yandere batfam #yandere batfam #gn reader #sibling reader #yandere dc #yandere x gn reader #platonic yandere #yandere alfred #neglected reader #talking daydreams #yandere batman

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pervcoded · 7 months ago

Text

bloodhound starring yuuji itadori.

content warning: no pronouns used, but reader is implied to be dfab.

reader is dealing with their period/pms.

roughhousing/fighting (they are training), scent kink, yuuji and reader are 18+, sukuna is here too yuuji. funky (very slight) mind-control/subtle influence aspects. perverted thoughts. reader is annoyed by everything. no penetration/sex. yuuji smells you ovulating lmao? begging (from yuuji). dry humping. idk i was just writing shit and the plot got outta hand.

Yuuji’s changed since Sukuna came along.

Not something you acknowledged at first - of course, it would be within reason to anticipate some degree of pushback from the curse. A never before seen bond between human and … less-than-benevolent spirit was sure to have some stubborn aftereffects. It seems that little whisper of a king took care to extend his influence more permanently than you’d appreciate, frankly.

Yuuji’s senses have been unnaturally keen as of late. Not the ‘notice your new haircut’ kind of attentive - that natural knowledge that comes with closeness - but,

eerily observant. Sukuna’s cohabitation of Yuuji’s body seemed to have bolstered his olfactory systems in bizarre ways. Or maybe the curse had just gotten attached to the scent of your flesh.

Like when he noticed when you ran out of lavender shampoo, you started using citrus. Or when he shouted in front of ‘Gumi and Nobara about how you definitely changed your perfume. Weird shit. Mr. Paying-Too-Much-Attention just tried to brush it off.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear he was keeping tabs on you. He tried to be completely normal otherwise - even apologized about the perfume; though Megumi and Nobara ensure you never hear the end of it.

But he’s doing it again right now. In the lull of your training, he seems stunned for a moment; seemingly overtaken by the presence of something around him. When you ask ‘what?’, he responds with a question.

“Do you smell that?” He huffs the air like he’s starved for it, the genuine curiosity bouncing around in his eyes confounding more than it intrigued. His eyes are half-lid, dogged and low, like a bloodhound taking index of nearby quarries. He’s paused your flow, stopped your energy, and besides; “The only thing I can smell is you.” You scowl. You stand with your arms akimbo, lips subtly quirked in irritation. He looks gagged by that response, but keeps breathing deep; lids fluttering delicately to half-lids.

“Yuuji.” You go to cross your arms, glaring daggers. “Yuuji, c’mon, I need you to focus.” “Mmn." His nose wriggles; it's a little cute. "But it smells so good… You sure you didn’t bring food in here? I can’t focus with that- ah - smell.” He seems labored by it, but it’s not so strange for Yuuji to be incredibly dramatic about most things. “It smells like…mhn.” Failing to describe the scent, you rapidly find yourself disinterested in his little moment. But he’s insistent on having it.

He licks his lips til’ they shine under the fluorescent, fanged teeth poking from his upper lip as he makes a face. A brutal, not-quite-smile, then something else, reserved as he retained the barest hint of control. He looked feral, like a wolf twitching with pent up aggression, holding out for the fawn to tottle past.

You occasionally envied his inclination towards the eccentric- frankly freaky sometimes- but sadly, at present you lacked the patience. You’re not playing games this week, and definitely not today.

It feels like everything and everyone’s been pissing you off for like half the week. Nobody seems to be on the right timing - no, not even Nobara, who seems more to your speed even when you’re in a bad mood with the rest of them. Nothing happened (you think) to make you feel angry, this pent up, but you think the others have noticed and politely adjusted their behavior. Giving you more space during breaks, keeping conversations to polite banter and short chats, getting you snacks…

Oh, now he’s starting to make you a little hungry. That’s what you think it is, that low simper in your belly as your vexation grows; tired of his antics. “Stop fucking around, man. I know this shit comes easy to you - or whatever - but I’m not letting you get me behind on training. Stand up.” The demand in your voice doesn’t seem to inspire motivation. Rather it just makes him annoyed, his brows now furrowed as he (bordering on obsessively) sniffs the air. Gets a whiff of something beautiful. Like blood pumping through veins, decadent, succulent, dripping, and raw. Rubs a bit of drool from his lips.

Sukuna’s been chittering in the time you weren’t. A faint locust buzz crescendos into airplanes flying overhead, a mantra tittering in the back of his head over and over again.

It’s you. It’s you, It’s you, It’s you, It’s you. Sukuna didn’t have to tell him that, really - he’s not that dumb - but forgive him for wanting to pretend like you’re not making him tent his sweatpants. He’s been smelling you all week - and after that argument with you and the gang on Tuesday, apparently nobody else noticed anything had changed. Granted, it’s not like he hates it; quite the contrary, actually…

You smell too good. Like a forbidden delicacy; savory and not too sweet. Oh, if only he could get you on his tongue. The thought is as foreign as it is tantalizing. He’s quick to assume Sukuna has something to do with it - but when he’s still having those thoughts when Sukuna hasn’t spoken to him in days, he’d think it irresponsible to not take some accountability for it. He scowls to himself, glancing at you in his periphery as you practice your striking form.

(You dance through the air, the power in your thrust brought forth from the entirety of your body; each muscle, moving in perfect sync. The more you work yourself up - the stronger the scent of you gets. It’s like a pheromone, wafting irritatingly through the space, driving him fucking mad -)

“Your yearning is pathetic.” Yuuji’s mouth goes dry as Sukuna’s mouth splits open a space behind his ear; but you must not hear him - too busy slicing through nothing. “I’ve never understood playing with your food. If you’re strong enough to take the sorcerer - they’re yours to be had.” He reflexively goes to shut him up.

You’ve barely wanted to be near him all week. Or any of the gang, really. You’ve been acting differently, too. Quicker to anger and cutthroat, more territorial - less affectionate. You’re only training together because you pressed him for it, like you were dead set on showing him up.

He thinks you’re doing fine. (Sukuna thinks it’s cute how hard you try).

You step too close and Yuuji’s head snaps to you on cue, and for a moment you think something’s wrong. He’s perched low down, searching you. Considering you, staring you up with that look. You recognize it - better suited to a battlefield and carnage - but it’s good to know he’s finally paying you attention. A full-minded, beady-eyed focus, as if you were a spirit in need of exorcism. He looks hungry for it.

You shuffle back reflexively, too wired to go down to some low-blow. “Oh? You ready to get back to it then?” You resume your offense, leaning into your stance as you watch Yuuji stagger to his legs almost drunkenly; and yet not taking his eyes off you. He balls his hands up into fists, feet shifting into position. “Yeah. I think m’ready. If you are.” His curtness is greatly appreciated, though you can’t help but quirk your brow at his change of pace. You squat lower, tighten your grip on your training weapon.

You push in at the same time. The point of contact - his fist and your naginata - disappears in a void of darkness. Tendrils of black jut out in all directions, and all you hear is the crrrr - ACK! of your wooden instrument; split clean in two as the ‘sharp’ end goes flying and leaving you with the blunted shaft. He’s on top of you as soon as you recover, reaching forward with a quick jab you barely dodge.

The sweat runs off your forehead as you dart backwards, swiftly slamming the wooden handle down into his skull. The naginata cracks into nothing. He is hardly winded.

He reaches out for you and you dive to the side, throwing up your arm to shield your chest before Yuuji nearly caves it in.

“-shit!”

You’re gasping, nearly falling on your ass as the force of Yuuji’s kick knocks the air out of your lungs.

“- ah, fuck -”

There’s a feeling besides fear, there. A sudden shuddering in your limbs and a faintness in your head that makes you drop low to the ground, your legs wobbling ever so slightly,

before they give, the blood rushing away from your head as a new pain blooms deep within your stomach. It joins the one in your chest, tormenting you.

Yuuji’s on top of you when your vision returns from black (did you close your eyes? You hadn’t noticed), half concerned and half… well -

He’s got you pinned to the training mat below, weight audaciously pressing into your stomach as he plants himself firmly on top of you. There’s something hard down there, jabbing insistently into you that perplexes you for only a second; until his face tells you everything to know.

His gaze is hazy, like he’s coming off that high but not quite - got your arms pinned above your head even if he no longer needs to use that kind of force. His face is red, blushed from ear to ear, and your analysis is momentarily interrupted by his voice cutting through the silence.

“Well, I won,” He huffs, rocking his hips a little. “Don’t I get a prize? Y’know - for winning?” He leans more to your level. You’re in no rush to buck him off - the pressure doesn’t feel that bad; actually.

"What?"

Your voice is breathy and incredulous when you fully come to.

“You want a fucking cookie or somethin’?” To your amusement, he nods excitedly. One of his hands leaves yours to slowly trail down your front. That focus still hadn’t lifted from him, his attention concentrated solely on the line he’s driving down your stomach.

“Yeah, something like that.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ JJK/BANNER ART by gege akutami

all content written by me @ciematis, is owned by me, and you are not allowed to repost or translate my works. don't put my shit into ai generators, don't steal my shit and put it on wattpad. thank you.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #yuuji itadori x reader #yuji itadori x reader #jjk x reader #yuuji itadori #yuji itadori #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #yuuji itadori fanfic #jjk yuuji #itadori yuuji imagines #tw periods #₀₅⭑ lightning strikes

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makoodles · 2 years ago

Text

ミ tìtunu

part one | part two | part three (nsfw) | part four (nsfw

🍓pairing: tsu'tey x human fem reader

🍓word count: 9k words (oops)

🍓warnings: alien courting rituals, misunderstandings, accidental sexy touching

yoooo i was not expecting people to like this ahhahahaha but thank you all so much for all your lovely excited comments! they've been so fun to read and honestly pushed me into writing this faster! pls forgive me if i forgot to tag you (i tried to include everyone that asked) 🍓 masterlist

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

Tsu’tey is beginning to wonder if he had received some irreparable damage to his head in the fall from the sky that had nearly killed him all those months ago. It’s the only explanation for what’s gone so terribly wrong with him.

After his failed first attempt at courting, you don’t come back to the village for a few days. It’s probably a good thing, Tsu’tey tries to convince himself; he needs to decide what it is he truly wants, and how far he’s willing to go to get it. But even though he tries to use the time to himself productively, he finds himself on edge and impatient.

His foul mood is clear to the whole village to see, and so it’s only a matter of time before someone confronts him about it.

It’s just his luck that the person who approaches him about it is Jakesully.

“So,” The new Olo’eyktan drawls as he sidles up to where Tsu’tey is watching a group of young warriors training with their longbows, “Word has it that you’ve chosen a mate.”

They may be brothers in arms and tentative friends, but that doesn’t mean that Tsu’tey is pleased to have him poking around his business. His ears flatten back in a wordless warning to back off, but Jakesully pays no heed to it.

The bastard is grinning, as though this is the most entertained he’s been in weeks. “Word has it that your chosen mate is human.”

“Do not speak on matters you do not understand.” Tsu’tey bares his teeth in a move that is bold at best, considering he is speaking to his clan chief.

But Jakesully just laughs, his stupid shoulders straightening. He has become so confident since becoming one of the people, and Tsu’tey envies him for it. He was sure of himself just like Jakesully once, but now it seems like all he does is doubt himself.

“Relax, brother.” Jakesully says casually, leaning on one leg as he follows Tsu’tey’s gaze out towards the young warriors. “You are too tense. How could she want someone so grumpy?”

Tsu’tey turns to him then, his tail coiled in a tense loop as he glares. “She is a demon.”

Jakesully just rolls his eyes. It's a gesture so human that it’s almost jarring. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that he is alien, just like you.

“Everyone sees the way you look at her.” Jakesully says, raising a brow at him. “It’s a different kind of scowl than you give everyone else.”

Tsu’tey doesn’t think that he scowls that much. He tries to force the frown off his face as he turns to look at Jakesully head on.

“It does not matter what you think you see,” He bites out, frustrated and on-edge with embarrassment. “She is tawtute. Sky demon. She does not see, cannot connect with the People or with Eywa.”

Jakesully is nodding, but he still has that infuriating smirk curling around his mouth that suggests he understands Tsu’tey’s feelings better than Tsu’tey himself does.

“That hasn’t stopped you so far, has it?” He points out with a faux-innocent tone that is utterly unconvincing. “I mean, you certainly seem happier to show her around and explain things to her than you ever were with me.”

“That is because she listens, Jakesully.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jakesully waves this away as if it’s inconsequential, before his expression shifts.

The next look he levels at Tsu’tey is uncomfortably sober.

“Look. I know that you’ve been having a hard time since...” He trails off, and his eyes dart down towards the harsh, ugly scars that cover Tsu’tey’s torso from where the brutal human weapons called bullets had nearly torn him apart. “Look, who cares what anyone else thinks? The People are still wary of the humans left over, but they’re looking to you as an example on how they should act. You could set a precedent here.”

Tsu’tey clenches his jaw as he stares out at the warriors. Instead of answering, he shouts out to one of the younglings near the edge of their makeshift firing range. “Netu’li, keep your elbows up.”

Netu’li fixes his posture, and the next arrow he looses hits home in a perfect bullseye. Tsu’tey nods in satisfaction.

Jakesully is still staring at the side of his face, and Tsu’tey realises that there is no way for him to escape this conversation. He takes a breath, and tries to ignore the resentful embarrassment coiling in his belly.

“She did not accept my advances.” He mutters, his ears flattened against his skull.

Irritatingly, Jakesully doesn’t seem bothered by this in the slightest.

“Oh yeah?” He drawls. “Hm. Well, I never thought you’d give up so easily. I’m surprised.”

Tsu’tey flicks a quick glance his way. What a ridiculous, painfully transparent attempt at goading him into admitting the interest he’s been trying to deny. The worst part is that it might actually be working.

“I did not say I was giving up.” Tsu’tey says sharply, well aware that he’s playing right into Jakesully’s hands right now. “I am just… I am thinking.”

Jakesully raises his stupid eyebrows, but Tsu’tey is studiously avoiding looking at him now. This whole situation was mortifying enough when it was all going unsaid; now that it’s being discussed, Tsu’tey feels like climbing inside of a yomioang plant and never coming out.

“Well,” Jakesully sounds smug, which should be a warning in itself, “You’d better do some thinking quickly, because I believe that’s her coming now.”

Tsu’tey straightens quickly, and tosses a look over his shoulder. Sure enough, your familiar figure is standing awkwardly by the treeline. It seems as though you’re reluctant to step further into the village; you’re fidgeting with your fingers, eyes darting around until they finally find him.

Something in his lower belly leaps, and he finds himself taking a sharp inhale through his nose at the sight of you. It’s been days since he’s last seen you, and he had been beginning to wonder if you would ever seek him out again. The sight of you here is a ridiculous sort of relief, one that he doesn’t even want to fully think about. Even better is the fact that you look alright, you look healthy. It doesn’t seem as though he’s done lasting damage to you with the meat.

You smile at him, and even from across the village he feels his heart thump against his ribcage. Perhaps you don’t hate him after all.

Aware of your eyes on him, Tsu’tey hefts his longbow from his back and shoots an arrow. It flies straight through the target, and hits it with a heavy, satisfying thump.

Jakesully just laughs. “Wow. Impressive.”

“Be silent.” Tsu’tey grumbles, his tail coiled tightly around his leg. He is anxious in a way that is entirely unbefitting of a warrior, and he resents you for being the cause of it. “I do not wish to speak to her.”

“Oh, come on!” Jakesully tilts his head back, shaking his head as though Tsu’tey is nothing but a child. “I thought we just talked through this!”

Tsu’tey ignores him. He can feel your gaze on his back like a weight, and though he stands straight and tall he cannot bring himself to turn around and meet your eyes. It’s all too much – even from across the camp your presence needles at him, and he hasn’t even decided on what he’s going to do just yet.

Jakesully’s eyes on the side of Tsu’tey’s face don’t help very much either. “Where’s all your confidence from the other night gone, when you practically declared what you wanted in front of the whole clan?”

Tsu’tey’s tail lashes restlessly. That had been a moment of pure madness. “It was rash of me.”

Jakesully just makes a face. “Whatever. Look, if the People could accept a skxawng like me as Olo’eyktan, why wouldn’t they accept your interest in a human mate? They respect you; they’ll respect your choices.”

It’s a reasonable point, but Tsu’tey remains stubbornly silent. It rankles, the way that Jakesully is trying to insert himself into his business. Tsu’tey’s thoughts and feelings about you are confused and conflicted, but they’re private. The way Jakesully speaks about you as though he knows you makes Tsu’tey’s skin prickle.

“I must think on it.” Tsu’tey says at last. It’s a weak response, but he just wants to buy himself some time.

Perhaps Jakesully is right. Tsu’tey has always been strong-willed and stubborn, and has always known exactly what he wanted. Now though, he's floundering. Now he doesn’t know what he wants, and he’s casting about desperately in the hopes that someone will advise him on what to do. After having his life and expectations so soundly upended, he just wants to make his clan proud. He wants their approval, but Jakesully is right – when has he ever given up on anything just because it posed a challenge?

“Fine.” Jakesully says, jarring Tsu’tey from his thoughts. He had nearly forgotten the Olo’eyktan was still there, and it’s unnerving to realise that he’s being watched with a smug sort of smirk. “I’ll keep her company for today, then. Considering you need your space.”

Tsu’tey’s jaw clenches hard but he does not protest. He can’t, not after making such a big deal out of not wishing to speak to you today. His pride is hurt, and all he can do is double-down on his position. Besides, Jakesully is mated to Neytiri, and Tsu’tey knows that he would rather die than stray from her.

That doesn’t stop him from turning his head as Jakesully leaves his side, watching with sharp eyes as the Olo’eyktan approaches you. Even from this distance, he can see the little smile on your face through your mask as you tilt your head up towards him. The sight of it causes something to curdle in his low belly.

That should be him on the receiving end of your sweet little smile. It’s a selfish thought, but one that he can’t quite shake off. The sense of possessiveness surprises even him, and he watches with narrowed eyes as Jakesully leans down to say something to you.

When Jakesully’s stupid five-fingered hand touches upon your shoulder to lead you away to somewhere else within the camp, Tsu’tey feels his tail whip around his ankles in aggravation.

I will try again, He thinks wildly as he turns back around to stare unseeingly at the practicing warriors in front of him. And this time I will not fail to impress.

Now that Tsu’tey has reached the decision to court you (officially), there is much to be prepared. He has never been one to take half-measures, and initiating a courtship is certainly no exception. You may not be Na’vi, but he will court you with all the respect and courtesy as he would if you were one of the People.

Part of him wonders if his decision is written across his face somehow, because the People of the village seem to know. When he begins searching for materials to make an official courting gift for you, he begins getting help from unexpected places.

Some of the children have started leaving pieces of twine and plant fibre in his treehut, and he is pleased to find that it is of good enough quality to begin weaving immediately. The old woman, A’nayla, who is the best at carving beads in the whole village, slaps his hands away impatiently when he attempts to pick out a number of beads for your gift. She directs him instead to some of her shiniest and most vibrant beads, and refuses to make any trades. A gift, she had insisted, her old face crinkling in a knowing smile as she had waved him away.

He feels supported, even more so when Neytiri visits him in his treehut one evening after dinner. It has been a few days since you visited the encampment, but Tsu’tey is determined to have everything in good order before he approaches you in earnest.

When Neytiri enters the small hut he had built in the trees when they first settled in this encampment, she takes a moment to peer around with a neutral expression.

Tsu’tey has been sitting on the woven mat in the middle of the room, but he looks up and waits for his old friend to speak.

“My Jake has told me about your intentions with the tawtute.” She says after a long moment, stepping forward and sinking down to sit in front of him with her legs crossed. “Many people speak of it in the village.”

Tsu’tey’s ear twitches at that, embarrassed, but he just focuses back on his weaving. There’s no point denying it; he does not plan on hiding it for much longer, anyway.

“Yes.” He says simply. “My first attempt was… not successful.”

Neytiri hums. He thinks he can hear an undercurrent of amusement. “Yes. I saw.”

His ears flatten in earnest at that. He had hoped that no one had witnessed that particular humiliation, but that’s no matter. People will soon forget, and he will soon have you distracted with his second (and surely more successful) attempt.

Her eyes fall on the half-finished woven piece in his hands, and she eyes it carefully. “That is too big. She is small, remember.”

“Of course I remember.” He snaps, before raising the half-finished jewelry to his face and squinting at it. “You think it will not fit?”

“Give me.” Neytiri demands, and stretches out her hand.

Tsu’tey passes it without complaint. They have known each other since birth, certainly long enough to forgo any passing formalities and niceties. He trusts Neytiri with his life, his best-friend and once-potential-mate, and he finds himself waiting with his tail curled protectively beside him as he awaits her judgment; not only on his half-finished gift, but also on his choice of a mate.

“This decision I have made,” He says suddenly. “To court the sky demon. It is madness, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Neytiri speaks with hardly a hesitation, though she doesn’t raise her eyes from his weaving. She starts picking out a loop where he had made a mistake, and begins reweaving it with deft fingers. “But I will not be the one to judge you for that.”

“And Mo’at?”

“She thinks you are a skxawng.” Neytiri says easily, “But she loves you like a son.” The next look she darts at him is quick and sharp out of the corner of her eye. “Out of everyone in the village, your heart was the most firmly closed against the Sky People. Does that not make it all the more meaningful, that you have chosen a sky person as your mate?”

Tsu’tey is silent. He used to think that he knew exactly how his life was going to work out; he would be Olo’eyktan, he would mate with his first love Sylwanin, they would be happy and prosperous and strong together. But that future evaporated like mist before his eyes; not all at once, but gradually, until he could barely see the vapours. His reality is very different now; he clings almost desperately to the idea of you. There have been many people that Tsu’tey has not been strong enough to protect, but you are so small and soft – you need protecting more than anyone he’s ever known, and he’s determined not to let you down.

“She will accept,” Tsu’tey murmurs, before casting an uncertain glance in Neytiri’s direction. “Do you think so?”

“I see her look at you.” Neytiri murmurs back, her mouth curving. “She will accept.”

That brings a rush of relief so sudden and unexpected that Tsu’tey feels it like a physical blow. He keeps his head bowed in the hopes that it will not be so obvious, and hums absently as though he’s only half listening. It’s not enough to convince Neytiri, but he hopes that it works to recoup at least some of his pride.

“You have redecorated.” Neytiri comments, though her eyes stay focused on fixing the small section of the necklace that Tsu’tey had messed up. “Your kelku is inviting.”

That pleases Tsu’tey, and he sits up straighter. Decorating has never been a strong suit of his, and it presented more of a challenge than he had initially anticipated to decorate in such a way that it would appeal to a human. He knows you are very interested in the plants of his planet, considering the amount of time you spend studying them, so he has effectively cushioned the rough wooden walls and floors with softer wide leaves. From the ceiling hangs intense blue eanean flowers and hippophae leaves, lending a soft phosphorescent glow to the small space.

“Humans are weak,” Tsu’tey grunts. “Soft bones, fragile skin. She needs soft surroundings, too.”

Neytiri hums her agreement, before finally lifting her head. In her hands, the knot in the half-finished necklace has been unpicked and resolved. She hands it back, and Tsu’tey takes it cautiously into his hands before peering carefully at her work. Her hands are far more practiced in the art of weaving than his; she has done a wonderful job.

“Thank you.” He says quietly. He is appreciative on several levels; for her weaving, for her company, for her support.

She seems to pick up on what he isn’t saying, as usual. “You should approach her again soon. My Jake says that she is sad – she thinks she has upset you, and that you are angry with her.”

Tsu’tey raises his head sharply at that. He’s not sure if he’s more displeased at the idea that you are upset or the fact that you have apparently been confiding in Jakesully. It is difficult to push past the feeling that you should be confiding in him, that he should be the person offering you comfort. But how could you approach him when he was part of the problem?

“I will find her tomorrow.” He decides. The thought of him losing his chance is sickening – he can’t afford to wait until everything is perfectly prepared. He will just have to do his best with what he’s got so far.

Neytiri grins at him, her lips peeling back of her teeth in a way that is both joyful and intimidating.

“Sìltsan tìtaron.” She says, and Tsu’tey finds himself grinning back without conscious thought.

It is a customary saying in their tribe, used for both chasing prey and courting mates. Good hunting.

When the next day dawns, Tsu’tey curses himself for feeling nervous.

The last time he felt this way was the night before his iknimaya, when he was a fledgling warrior. Even then, he was so confident, his ego inflated by the simple fact that he had never experienced a loss before.

This time is different. He finds himself anxious in a way that he is utterly unused to experiencing, and it makes him bare his teeth in frustration as he bounds down from his treehut into the village properly. It is already a hive of activity, and the familiar buzz of conversation and laughter eases some of the tension out of his shoulders.

He will take this slow, he’s already decided. Slow and careful.

The thought of you refusing him is something that he can’t bring himself to consider; he needs to show you that he is strong, that he is thoughtful and caring, that he can provide for you and keep you safe and make you happy. He has to convince you that there is no one who can care for you better than he can.

Finding you is easy enough; the human scientists that have remained on the planet follow a routine, and you are no different. Besides, as some of the children in the village tell him, you have been lingering close to the village for days now. Ostensibly you are studying the plantlife, but Tsu’tey knows that you have likely been waiting to catch a glimpse of him. The realisation has a hollow feeling of guilt gnawing at his stomach, but he tries to push it aside – he will apologise soon.

He finds you in the forest, only a little while outside of the village. You are not alone; as is standard procedure, you are accompanied by three other scientists and a dreamwalker.

Norm is as awkward as ever in his Avatar state, discussing whatever he is reading from his demon technology with wide eager eyes. Tsu’tey is familiar with Norm now, mostly against his will – Jakesully is fond of the scientist, and he has been invited to take part in village life on several occasions. Tsu’tey will begrudgingly admit that the dreamwalker is respectful of Na’vi life and culture and he has come to accept his presence both on his planet and around his people, but seeing him around you is making him fidgety.

One of the scientists is armed (and the sight of the gun makes his skin itch from the memory of bullets tearing flesh) and Norm is at least Na’vi-sized, but that is the extent of the protection they have brought. Tsu’tey’s fingers twitch. It is not enough. You are so small and fragile, entirely unsuited for his world. Don’t you know that? Don’t you know how dangerous it is to be out here like this with so little to protect you?

You’re so preoccupied with the helicoradian you’re studying that you don’t seem to notice anything else around you. Your head is bowed, your eyes bright and shiny with interest as you inspect the orange pigment dusting the leaves.

The dappled light that filters through the trees casts shadowy patterns across your face in a way that is nearly mesmerising, and he ends up staring at you for a longer moment than he had originally intended. You are strange-looking and alien to him, and yet his fingers itch with the desire to touch you.

Tsu’tey leaps from the branch he had been watching you from, and lands neatly on the balls of his feet. His movements are nearly soundless, and none of the humans raise their heads. They don’t seem to sense his appearance at all.

His brow furrows in dissatisfaction. Anything could creep up on you, and you would not see it coming until it was too late.

He reaches out one leg and steps purposely on a twig. The snap is resounding, and the man with the gun whirls around and hoists the weapon higher, aiming at Tsu’tey’s chest.

He just bares his teeth in warning.

“No!�� You yelp, throwing your hands up as soon as you realise what’s happening. “Don’t shoot him!”

Despite the situation, he’s sure that he looks quite smug. It feels good to experience you standing up for him, even if he doesn’t really need it – he could knock this puny little gun-toting tawtute into the dirt with a single backhand if he wished, though he refrains. He’s trying to be on his best behaviour.

“Fuck!” The little man yells, clearly spooked. “What does he want?”

That makes you falter, and you look up at him with uncertainty. It seems like you’re waiting for an explanation as well. All of the scientists are silent are apprehensive, eyeing him cautiously as they wait to see what he’s going to do. Their eyes linger around the knife strapped to his waist and the longbow strung over his shoulders.

Norm is looking at him with raised eyebrows, his ears perked up. Judging by his expression, Tsu’tey assumes that Norm has guessed exactly what he’s doing here.

“I wish to speak with you,” He tells you in Na’vi – he knows that some of the other scientists will be able to interpret his words, but it brings an illusion of privacy all the same.

You blink, but hesitate. When you don’t agree immediately, Tsu’tey feels his ears pin back. Your uncertainty is surely a bad sign for him – has he misjudged how upset you were?

He turns to the other humans and narrows his eyes at them. “Leave.”

They burst into motion satisfyingly quickly. The moron with the gun looks as though he is about to start arguing, but Norm hooks the long fingers of his demon body into the back of his collar and tugs him away. For once, the scientist is not being a nuisance.

You’re still standing there, turning to stare in apparent bewilderment at your comrades, who are practically fleeing. “What-”

“Come.” Tsu’tey says. Now that it’s just the two of you, he loses some of the edge in his voice.

When he turns away and begins to lead you into the forest, you follow after him without complaint. Out of the corner of his eye, Tsu’tey can see you twisting your hands nervously. Your clear anxiety has him frowning – he wants you to be comfortable with him, not on edge.

Once he’s determined that you’re both far enough away from the other humans that they could not hear you, he turns to you. You’re already looking at him, fingers twisting as you bite at your lip.

Calm and steady, Tsu’tey thinks to himself. Just apologise for ignoring her.

Apologising does not come easy to him, but he rolls his shoulder and takes a breath before opening his mouth.

“I’m sorry!” You blurt before he can make even a sound.

That throws him, and he ends up staring at you with his mouth ajar for a long moment like an absolute moron. Why are you apologising? This isn’t how this was supposed to go.

“I didn’t mean to get sick,” You continue, a little desperately, “I really did appreciate your hunting, it was very impressive and the meat was very nice, I swear I didn’t mean to come across as ungrateful-”

Oh no, are those tears he sees shining in your eyes?

Tsu’tey feels as though he’s been frozen in place. He knows that his face is stuck in a confused scowl, but he can’t soften his expression no matter how hard he tries. Panic starts to curdle in his stomach. He may be a seasoned warrior, fearless in the face of fearsome opponents, but he finds himself at a total loss in this situation.

You just keep going – his silence seems to be making you even more upset. “I never meant to offend you, and I’m so, so sorry if I have. I never meant to make you angry-”

Finally, Tsu’tey manages to find his voice. “I am not angry.”

Even he has to admit that he doesn’t sound particularly convincing, but he’s never been an eloquent person. How does he explain that he’s not angry at you, he’s frustrated with himself? Right now, with you staring up at him with your eyelashes all wet and clumped together as your lower lip trembles, he feels like kicking his own ass.

He needs to make his move now, he realises wildly. Be conciliatory, he thinks. Let her know you are interested.

His voice sticks in his throat, but he manages to push the words out. They come out slightly strangled, but semi-confident all the same.

“Would you like to come fishing?”

You hesitate, and Tsu’tey feels his heart seize in his chest – you’re not going to turn him down, are you?

“Would I-” You begin, face crumpling. “What?”

Despite all the similarities in your bodies and faces, Tsu’tey finds himself floundering when it comes to reading your expressions. Is that disappointment? Confusion? Anger? It’s so difficult to tell with your tiny blunt ears and lack of a tail.

“Fishing.” He repeats. His own tail lashes restlessly, the only part of his body that moves at all. “Come and watch me fish.”

It doesn’t come out quite as smoothly as he had planned in his head the night before, sounding a little more like an order than an invitation, but Tsu’tey thinks it’s a victory just to get the words out at all.

You look a little lost, but you nod all the same. Your tears are blinked away, your expression smoothing a little. Is Tsu’tey imagining it, or do you look hopeful?

“I- alright.” You swallow, and your hands reach up to tug at your hair in what appears to be a compulsive sort of movement. “Yes. Fishing. Right.”

Tsu’tey barely stifles his reaction. A success. He can’t stop his ears from pricking up, but otherwise he tries to appear neutral – he doesn’t want to scare you off.

“Come then.”

Just like before, you follow him readily through the jungle. He is careful to keep his back to you – it is a display of trust, to show off his conviction that you will do him no harm. It is mostly symbolic in your case, considering that you are unlikely to cause him any real harm even if you wanted to, but he is determined to carry out these courting rituals correctly even if the rest of this courtship is unconventional.

His ears are pricked the whole time for signs of danger or any other signs of life approaching, and to ensure that you are close behind as the two of you make your way towards the river winding towards the Omaticaya stronghold.

“You don’t have a fishing rod.” You say when you both finally reach the river.

Tsu’tey has no idea what you’re talking about, but it sounds as though you’re doubting his ability to fish.

He frowns, turning to squint at you – is this a challenge? Do you require him to prove his prowess right away? Displays of physical prowess and skill are part of the courting process, but he had thought that he had already done that with the hunt you had witnessed. But then again, the meat from the prey of that particular hunt had made you sick – perhaps you had decided not to count that hunt as an official courting display.

You stare back at him, looking perfectly innocent, if a little confused.

Fine. Tsu’tey straightens his back, and pulls his bow from his back. If it’s a display of prowess that you want, that’s what you’ll get.

In one smooth movement, he draws, nocks, and looses an arrow. It lands true, hitting home in the sleek, smooth body of a large fish that has just darted out from behind a stone lodged in the riverbank.

You let out a startled sort of sound, but lean forward quickly as Tsu’tey strides into the water and reaches for his catch. He had been planning on drawing this fishing display out a little longer, but it seems that you’re a demanding little thing. He doesn’t mind that; if anything, it will make satisfying you all the more exciting.

He retrieves his catch and holds it up for you to see. The fish is a large one, and it glints in the sweet sunshine that streams through the canopy of trees above you. It is a catch to be proud of, but he is careful not to be too pleased with himself until you react.

You laugh at the sight of the smooth glinting silver surface of his catch, clapping your hands together.

“Oh!” You call out, and you sound delighted. “Amazing! You make it look so easy!”

The praise sends a pleasant warmth effusing through his chest, and he feels a slow, hesitant grin begin to spread across his face.

“I am good at providing.” He tells you earnestly, stepping forward. He snaps off the long shaft of the arrow before proffering the fish towards you for your inspection.

You glance down, still smiling, but you don’t look particularly closely at his catch. That dulls some of his satisfaction – he glances down at the fish himself, wondering if there was something about it you found lacking.

“I know.” You murmur, tilting your head as you gaze up at him with lidded eyes. “You’re strong.”

His ears twitch like a child’s, and he nods, pleased. Hearing those words coming from the person he has chosen as a prospective mate fills him with a type of excitement that he has never experienced before. As a tawtute, you cannot connect with Eywa or with the People; but in this moment, Tsu’tey feels as though you see him anyway.

He swallows, and sets his catch aside in the pouch at his waist. He feels flustered in a way that is entirely unlike him, and he has to push his reactions down deep. He doesn’t want you to think of him as a silly little youngling – he wants you to see that he has taken this decision to court you seriously.

Time for the next step.

“We are close to an area where the Tsahìk gathers her herbs for medicine,” He says, clearing his throat as he turns to look at you with wide, earnest eyes. “I have offered to collect some for her. Would you like to help?”

Plants have always fascinated you – he knows that the original reason that you came to his planet was to study the wildlife and the flora. He waits, hoping that he’s right in thinking that this is something you will enjoy.

Your strange, sweet little face brightens. “Really?”

Tsu’tey nods, relieved by your reaction. “You would like this?”

“Yes!” You breathe. For the first time since he had approached you, you relax in earnest and Tsu’tey finds himself mirroring you.

He reaches out and cups your elbow as he helps you step over a log, and he doesn’t miss the little shiver and quick glance that you send towards his hand where it’s wrapped around your arm. It seems like you’re just as taken with the size difference between you as he is, and his lips begin to curl in excitement at the realisation.

This is good, He thinks, biting at the inside of his cheek. He is very slow to remove his hand, and you make no move to shake him off. Very good.

Tsu’tey does not want to speak too soon, but he feels as though his courting attempts are going very well indeed.

You had loved gathering the medicinal herbs with him, even more than he had hoped – you had badgered him with questions, curious about the names of the plants and their properties and their appearances, and you had bounded along at his side with a bright grin the whole time. It had pleased him greatly to experience your interest in the ways of the Omaticaya and the life of his planet; it was proof that you could be taught, that you were willing to learn.

And most thrillingly of all, you were receptive to his advances. Over the next couple of days, he continues with his cautious attempts at approaching you with little gestures.

When he gives you flowers and pretty leaves, you take them with brilliant, near-blinding smiles. Every time he shows off by flexing or practicing wrestling with the other warriors, you watch with interested eyes and tiny smiles. Whenever he tentatively touches you, small brushes to your shoulders or hands or waist, you never flinch away – on several occasions, you lean into him.

He tries not to let it go to his head, but it’s difficult. Since he’s started to admit his urges and his attraction to you, he swears it’s gotten worse. It feels like all he thinks about is you. He’s distracted during training, during his duties, during meals. He thinks about your reactions to his offerings, to your smiles, your scent, your voice. It really does feel like an illness, but it’s one he’s beginning to come to terms with if it means having you close by.

It’s beginning to get more difficult to keep his hands to himself. Traditionally, at this point in a courtship it would be acceptable for a courting pair to exchange flirtatious touches and other little intimacies, but Tsu’tey is aware that this is not exactly a conventional courtship.

He’s trying to be careful, to avoid spooking you or making you uncomfortable or uneasy, but it’s beginning to wear on him. Though he’s getting bolder with his little touches, it’s not enough to quench the skin-hunger growing in him.

But no matter. The courtship is going well, and moving at a good pace. The next step is one of the most important ones.

His carefully woven courtship necklace has been completed. It is customary to present a potential mate with a statement piece of jewelry, and Tsu’tey has spent several late nights fussing over the finishing touches. He recognises on some level that he’s stalling; it’s not in his nature to be nervous, but he’s beginning to grow nearly obsessive about getting the necklace as perfect as possible. It has been crafted to fit you exactly, with fibres and beads selected by him personally based on what he thinks you would like and what he thinks would suit your features.

The finished product is eye-catching, and Tsu’tey feels nearly delirious at the thought of it decorating your neck.

He crushes any semblance of nerves as best as he can, just like he might have done before a big hunt.

Of course you will accept his mating advances. Why wouldn't you? He is a strong warrior, a protector, desired by a great number of women. He could likely pick any woman he wanted out of the available women in the clan, and they would be honoured. Why would you be any different? You may be difficult to read at times, but he has laid his intentions out loud and clear and you have not shied away. You would accept him.

His mating necklace for you feels like it’s weighing him down as he steps through the village. It’s tucked safely into the pouch at his waist, though his hand keeps drifting to his hip to check that it’s still there. He’s not unaware of the looks he gets as he makes his way towards the edge of the encampment, but he ignores them. No doubt many of his people have guessed at what he’s up to, but he can’t give them his attention right now; he’s too focused on you, now that he spots you sitting next to one of the large pxiut trees.

Your head is bowed over your silly little notebook, lost entirely in your own world. Tsu’tey’s steps slow as he approaches you, taking the opportunity to drink in the sight of you while you’re unaware of his gaze.

His eyes track over the curves of your strange features, the slope of your alien nose, the arch of your neck. Your features may be exotic, but he’s finally beginning to admit to himself what he’s been trying to deny for a while now – you’re attractive to him.

He likes your weird little face, your odd five-fingered hands, your thick silly accent when you speak his language. He likes that you are so much smaller than him, he likes that you are soft.

He appreciates that you are patient with him, too. He knows he can be gruff and surly, and most people find him off-putting or intimidating, especially when they don’t know him. But you – you’re so calm and sweet, and you never seem to care when he’s stoically silent beside you. Most of the time when he’s around you, most of his brain-power goes into trying to keep his hands to himself, and he doesn’t have much intellectual power left to attempt conversation. He’s content with simply listening to you about whatever it is you wish to talk about, occasionally chiming in to ask a question or just to hum gently to show you he’s listening.

As he watches, you shift where you’re sitting and reach up to scratch absently at your neck. Beneath your odd human garments, your skin is glowing lightly with a thin sheen of sweat. Tsu’tey finds his eyes tracking over your exposed skin like a moron, and he clenches his jaw as he pulls himself together.

You're a warrior, you're a warrior, you’re a warrior, he chants in his head. He would not be cowed or intimidated by a tiny human.

You raise your head as he approaches, and a smile unfolds across your face. Your expression is bright, full of pure innocent happiness just to see him. He wavers, and nearly turns right back around.

“Hey, big guy.” You call out, setting your notebook aside as you beam at him.

You’re waiting for him to join you, he realises. He jolts forward, his previously confident stride turning a little jerky under your sharp eyes.

“Hello, little demon.” He murmurs, keeping his voice low and level.

You bite at your lip, still watching him with that little smile on your face. He watches you back just as closely, even as he sinks down to sit next with you. Your smile melts into a little look of surprise; usually, when he comes to you it’s so he can invite you somewhere else, either to show you something or to give you something. Joining you as you just sit is new for both of you.

For a moment, you’re both quiet. It seems like you’re waiting on him to speak, but he stays silent. He’s trying to compose himself, to appear cool and calm as he reaches his hand towards the woven bag slung around his waist.

Finally, he says, “I have something for you.”

It comes out impressively calm and level. While he’s not a man prone to nerves or to doubting himself, this is entirely new territory for him. When your expression brightens into a look of excitement, he feels a new little seed of confidence build in his chest. You’re anticipating his gift, you want it.

When he slips his hand into his bag, you sit up onto your knees so that you can watch him. Over the last few weeks, you’ve gotten used to receiving little flowers, plants, beads, or little carved figures. You accept each one with your usual brilliant, sweet smile; the thought of how you may smile at him when he gives you the necklace makes Tsu’tey’s tail flick eagerly.

He pulls it carefully out and hands it to you. As you take it your fingers brush his, and he twitches slightly as he stares at how small your hands are next to his.

“Oh,” You breathe, lifting up the necklace to eye level so you can get a good look at it. “I… Really? For me?”

“Yes.” He says simply, his eyes sharp and alert as they drink in every minute flicker that crosses your face. What are you thinking?

“It…” You begin, and then pause. Tsu’tey is just beginning to feel like crawling out of his skin when you slowly continue. “Tsu’tey, it’s beautiful.”

You so rarely say his name, choosing instead to call him variations of big guy, and he feels a near physical jolt run down his spine at the sound of it in your mouth. He wants to hear you say it again.

He just hums, still watching your face. You are examining the necklace intently, fingering the beads and the weavework, and he feels his pride inflate the longer you inspect his work. You are giving real, earnest thought to his offering rather than simply making your decision rashly. He respects this, and revels under the careful consideration you’re giving his proposal.

“You like it?” He murmurs. His voice comes out rougher than he had intended, and you jerk your head up to look at him.

Like this, your faces are very close together. Tsu’tey had leaned closer unconsciously as you were examining the necklace, and he makes no attempt to back off. Likewise, you make no attempt to retreat either, blinking up at him from behind the odd clear surface of your bubble-like mask.

“Yes,” You whisper, a shy, cautious smile beginning to bloom across your face. “Did you make this yourself?”

Tsu’tey just huffs. What sort of fool wouldn’t make their mating offering themselves?

“Of course.”

“Oh.” You bite at your lip. You seem to be trying to suppress your smile, though he can’t imagine why. He wants to see it, now more than ever.

You are certainly not racing to give him an answer. Your fingers trace over the beads, taking your time to admire the craftsmanship. Your obvious appreciation is certainly inflating his ego, but the longer you go without giving him a firm answer, the more agitated he gets. He hides it as best as he can, aiming to appear cool and unflappable. He is a warrior – he doesn’t want you to think of him as someone who is easily ruffled.

When you finally turn to look up at him, your eyes are shining. He can’t help but sit up a little straighter, watching you very carefully as he awaits your decision.

You proffer the necklace back to him, and Tsu’tey feels his stomach positively plummet. He truly hadn’t considered what he would do if you refused him.

“Will you help me put it on?” You ask, a little shyly.

The relief nearly bowls him over. Tsu’tey swears his stomach jolts so violently that he nearly makes a truly undignified sound. You are not refusing him – you wish for assistance.

“Yes.” He says lowly and seriously, taking the necklace back.

You beam again, then turn your back to him and bow your head to give him access to your neck. Tsu’tey’s heart thumps dully in his chest at the display of trust and vulnerability, though he keeps his face carefully still.

As he reaches out and slips the necklace around your neck, he gives in to his weakness and allows his fingers to drift over your shoulder. Your skin is so soft, your frame lacking the lean hard musculature that is so common among his own people, and he allows himself a moment to admire the feeling of you beneath his hands before finally beginning to tie the two ends of the necklace together.

He can feel you breathing carefully beneath his hands, the steady rise and fall of your chest matching the thumping rhythm of his own heart. The blood is rushing through his ears as his knuckles brush over one of the knobs of your spine at the base of your neck and you shiver in response.

Success, his instincts are screaming at him. Success.

When he finally pulls his hands back, you turn to look at him through your eyelashes behind your breathing mask. The corner of his mouth twitches as he eyes the way the necklace sits above your collarbones; a perfect fit.

It probably goes without saying that you have accepted his advances, but the customs of the Sky People are odd and he wants to make certain.

“You accept, then?” He asks, reaching out and settling his fingers over the woven fibres of the necklace. You’re small under his hand – his fingers reach one of your shoulders and his palm reaches the other, dwarfing you.

Your head tilts, a little frown creasing your brow, before you smile and nod. “Of course I accept it. It’s very lovely. I’m honoured. I didn’t know that you made your own jewelry.”

The last piece of mating jewelry he had crafted had been a bracelet for Sylwanin. It’s not something that he wants to think about right now, so he shrugs roughly.

“I do not, usually. This is different.”

“Oh.” You say, a little breathlessly.

Tsu’tey’s tail twitches recklessly. It’s time for the next step.

“I would take you to my hut.” He begins cautiously, watching your face. “It is finished now. I have made it comfortable.”

You blink, and take a careful breath. He wonders what you’re thinking.

“I would like that.” You say quietly, your eyes drifting towards his tail, which is twitching as he awaits your answer.

Triumph soars in his chest, and a slow smile begins to spread over his face. This feels better than any hunt, any accolade, any success he has previously enjoyed. This one is his and his alone – you see him, you want to be his just as he wants to be yours.

You appear to get flustered, and look down at his twitching tail in an apparent effort to distract yourself. You watch the movement, your own lips beginning to curve, before you reach out to touch it.

Tsu’tey goes entirely still, his eyes flaring wider in surprise. He doesn’t pull away, watching intently as your fingers trail over the thin, sensitive skin of his tail. It is bold of you, so bold it nearly steals his breath away.

“You’re like a cat.” You say, and laugh.

Tsu’tey has no idea what that means, and just continues to stare at you. You’re still holding his tail in your warm, soft hand. The fact that he isn’t pulling away seems to embolden you even more, before you start to bite your lip as you look up at him.

Tsu’tey takes a soft, quiet breath – do you even know what you’re doing to him right now? Desire is beginning to pool, dark and hot, in his belly as your fingers stroke absently over the thin skin of his tail, your liquid eyes gazing up at him with that shy, enigmatic little smile playing over your face.

Slow and steady, he tells himself firmly, fighting to stay composed. He doesn’t want to scare you away by moving too quickly, but your soft warm hands and sweet little smiles are making it terribly difficult. He wants to touch you back, but he doesn’t want to startle you.

“Sorry,” You murmur, apparently growing self-conscious. You begin to pull back. “I didn’t mean to-”

“You may touch me.” He interrupts before you pull too far back. He has been intimate with women before, but this moment with you feels infinitely more intimate and illicit than anything he has experienced before.

You watch him in return, eyes bright. Is he imagining the excitement on your face, mirroring his own feelings?

Slowly, you trace up his tail. His skin shivers under your touch, but he doesn’t pull away. In fact, he leans in a little closer as your fingers move from his tail to his chest, tracing over the lighter stripes on his skin. It feels as though your touch is leaving trails of heat in its wake, and he fights to keep his breathing steady and even as your eyes follow the path of your fingers.

His own fingers twitch, but he keeps his hands to himself. He wants to give this to you, to allow you the opportunity to be in charge of this moment. You’ve always been curious, and watching you exploring his own body only stokes his desire – but he holds back. He will be patient, and he will take this slow. He wants to do this whole thing right.

Your fingers trail down over the defined muscles of his abdomen, and he flexes entirely on instinct. You must like what you see, because your smile turns bashful as you trace your way around his waist.

He’s so preoccupied with watching your face that he doesn’t watch where your hands go next. It means that he is taken entirely by surprise when he feels your delicate, small fingers wrap around his kuru.

His back goes ramrod straight, his eyes flaring wide in shock. It was an innocent touch, only wrapping around the protective braid curiously, but the sheer fact that his prospective mate, wearing the mating gift he had made, holds the most intimate and sacred part of him in their hands has his toes curling into the dirt where you sit.

A jolt of pure, liquid elation jolts down his spine. No partner of his has ever touched his kuru – it was saved specifically for a mate. And though you may not be capable of making tsaheylu with him, the sheer sensation of you holding this sacred part of him nearly makes his vision white out.

“Oh!” He hears your voice say as though from a distance. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep-!”

He’s sure his pupils are blown wide, his ears alert and hot. He wants to reassure you that your overstep is most welcome, but it feels as though his brain has half-melted.

“Tsu’tey?”

He comes back to himself, though his thoughts are still scattered. As he regains some of his awareness, he realises that his desire is beginning to grow obvious beneath his loincloth.

Fuck. He was meant to be taking it slow! He couldn’t invite you to his hut and then grow so visibly aroused in front of you; it was not honourable, and he did not want you to feel pressured.

He lurches backwards, nearly sprawling in the dirt. It’s a graceless movement, ungainly and unlike him, but then again all of this is entirely outside of his realm of experience.

You’re staring at him with wide eyes and an open mouth, your hand still raised in midair.

“I have to go.” He says sharply, pushing himself to his feet. It’s all he can think to do to preserve both of your dignities before he ruins his careful courtship plans with his own reckless desires.

“But-” You start, your face crumpling. “Am I still invited-”

“I must go,” He repeats, hastily angling himself so that you can’t see his front.

He takes several firm steps away before hesitating, then turns back to look at you. “Tomorrow. You may come back tomorrow.”

You still look utterly bewildered, but Tsu’tey hurries away all the same. As he goes, he adjusts his tewng as surreptitiously as possible.

Despite his tactical retreat, he feels more optimistic than he has in a long time. As he approaches the village he feels a feral triumphant grin begin to grow over his face. That likely could have gone smoother at the end, but overall he finds himself feeling impossibly pleased with himself.

He has succeeded at his attempt at courting a human, and he has done so without Jakesully’s help. You have accepted all his gifts, you agreed to come and see his hut, and judging by the way you had groped at his tail and his kuru, physical attraction certainly wouldn’t be a problem for either of you.

It has left him excited for tomorrow, and yearning for more of your soft little hands against his skin.

#tsu'tey x reader #tsu'tey imagines #tsu'tey #avatar 2 #avatar x reader #avatar way of water #na'vi x reader #na'vi x human #alien x human #avatar 2009 #terato

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leaderwon · 3 months ago

Text

HATE THAT..

chapter 39 — what a bitch

Synopsis :- In a world where lovers are destined and written by fate, You hated the idea of a soulmate, or maybe you just hated him. Jake wanted a soulmate, a lover to be with for the rest of eternity. Just not you. Not wanting eachother, the both of you occupy yourself with someone else. But the universe had other plans.

luna's diary : a small chapter, I'm really sorry. i intended it to be longer but I'm not really feeling my best

warnings : Jake is a bitch, we hate pisseul and mentions of violence

prev — masterlist — next

The welcoming faces of Jake's parents greeted you as you stepped into the house. The middle aged woman hugged you as a smile adorned her features.

You loved Jake's mom, she was kind and extremely sweet. The best part about her though? Her cooking.

It was the main motivation that made you come here. You didn't know what it was, no matter how old you were or what the situation was, you would always eat whenever she cooked for you.

You saw Jake's dad hug yours as they wanderered off to whatever old men do.

"Come to the dining room, I've prepared all your favorites" You heard Mrs. Sim say to you with a warm smile on her face.

Going deeper into the house, you heard Jake's voice as he was conversing with someone else.

You didn't think much about it, until you saw her.

"Park Iseul?" Your mom's cheerful voice broke you from the mini shock you had gotten.

Whatever excitement you previously had, was now vanished as you looked at Iseul hoping it was a dream.

This cannot be happening.

Your mom embraced the girl in her arms as she pointed out on how pretty Iseul had gotten.

She was right, Iseul had gotten pretty ever since she came back from america

You felt insecurity take over you as you noticed your mom looking at Iseul with all the love in the world in her eyes.

At this moment, you envied Iseul. Ever since you arrived back home, all you recieved were dry replies or glares from your mom.

Seeing someone who caused all of this in the first place recieve the look that you deserved snapped something inside you.

"Iseul missed Jake, so she decided to join us for dinner tonight" Her mom exclaimed as she handed you a plate, showing you where your favorite food was placed.

You were starting to lose the remaining bits of your appetite as a gut feeling of something about to get worse started to annoy you.

This was Park Iseul we were talking about. There's no way in hell she would let you be in peace.

You were having an amazing time catching up with Jake's parents trying your best to ignore Jake and Iseul who say across you.

"Y/n, Do you still play football?" Jake's dad curiously asked you. "Oh yeah, i recently joined the football team as center forward" You replied.

"She got captaincy too" Iseul said as her annoying voice butted into the conversation.

"What about you Iseul, have you been playing after america? I heard you also joined the same university as Jake and y/n" Your dad asked the girl.

"I was playing for a while, but i got into a tiny accident" She said as she gave your dad a smile.

What a bitch.

"Tiny accident? Iseul don't lie" You heard Jake's voice for the first time since this dinner had started.

"What do you mean?" Your mom asked questioning the two of them.

"It's no-" "Ms. Y/N here wanted captaincy so bad, she got Iseul into an accident" Jake said interrupting Iseul.

No.

"What?" Your dad spoke in shock.

Your mom had an idea of you "bullying" Iseul, but your dad was kept out of the loop to prevent a fight breaking out in your house. Which you were now sure was going to happen.

"Iseul, is this true?" It was Jake's dad turn to speak up now. "I'm sure she didn't mean it" She said innocently.

Innocent my fucking ass. I'm gonna kill this bitch.

Jake who was now visibly pissed started talking about how I had "allegedly" bullied Iseul.

The whole table went into an awkward silence as people started to take in these fake peice of information.

You stood up catching everyone's attention. You felt a rush of adrenaline as you finally spoke up, "Iseul's lying. I didn't bully her" You tried defending yourself.

"I don't know wh-" Your dad interrupted you getting up from the his seat as well. "We're leaving" He said sternly.

"Thank you so much for having us" He continued making his way to the door as the color of your face slowly drained.

Jake knew how your dad was, yet he still did this over a lie?

You were having trouble believing this situation was real. Your eyes made their way towards Jake as he looked anywhere except you.

He knew your dad was violent. Fortunately, he wasn't so physically. But you absolutely despised your inner peace being broken by a fight in your house.

You couldn't count the days you've ran to Jake crying your eyes out.

He had to feel some sort of emotion right? Sympathy? maybe.

All your hopes were crushed as he finally connected his eyes and gave you that glare.

"Y/N, let's go" Your mom said. You gave Jake a look of disbelief as you finally left his house mentally preparing yourself for what you were about to face.

TAGLIST (open!send an ask to be added COMMENTS WILL NOT BE ACCEPTED) : @fertilizedtoesw @ynsvnte @jaeyunluvr @liinori @n1k1mura @syzavxy @alex-is-sleeping @hoondiors @baevsxii @rikimylove @enhaslxt @erehkinnie30 @desistay @ifuckedheeseung @haechansbbg @sumzysworld @simjyunnie @cha0thicpisces @noobgod1269 @sol3chu @potatosoulp1h @welovechaes @firstclassjaylee @miniature-tragedy @beommii @jiyechoi @dimplewonie @feeling-woozi @jjunie-0 @butterfliesinthenightsky @jindoriyam @iheartjayke @minthoons @dreamiestay @layla240 @heeseungismymanz @suneng @vixensss @woorcve @hyunjinheartbreakprince @blujk @electrobutterfly @dismaldiary @melancholy-z @missychief1404 @lhspeachie @grassbutneo @roryirl @heeheesang

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liliannadelaphinehartifelt · 8 months ago

Note

Helloo!

Idk if you take requests , but could you maybe write a fic with Human!Alastor and male!reader where reader exaggerates his whole personality to comply with everyone else and is easily exhausted from it and Alastor "relaxses" reader in that way ?

Thank you in advance and have a good day !

Alastor - [ MASQUERADE ]

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A/N: This request really made me brainstorm but I've decided to break it into 2 parts. I hope you'll enjoy it! As always kindly lmk the artist of the fanart so I can tag them and give proper credit! ❤️

WARNINGS: [ SLIGHT NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ SUGGESTIVE THEMES ] + [ MALE READER ] + [ FLUFF…if you squint ]

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“You're on air in ten minutes, Y/n. Pick it up before the host gets restless!”

Your so-called manager barked from the dressing room doorway, giving one last glare your way before strutting off, grumbling a string of curses you'd learned to ignore.

“Asshole…” you scoffed, turning back to the striped mirror of your vanity; the large bulbs that lit it gave enough light in the old stuffy backstage space, illuminating every detail of your appearance.

Not one thing could be out of place.

You wouldn't allow it, committed to your role as a rising preformer in the golden age of the stage, and conditioned to perfectionist standards from years of tribulations

Suffering behind a practiced smile won you your stardom. The ambiguous beauty you possessed helped immensely in your success on the silver screen, but the truest contributor to your fame was appeal.

Humourous, intellectual, but most crucial, sex appeal.

That's what kept your admires enthralled, permanently put you in the limelight from the start, and inevitably earned you considerable amounts of money.

You weren't opposed to being called a child of Dionysus himself, envied by those who wanted you. Still, the burden of putting on a show for everyone every day without giving them a glimpse of your faults was excruciating.

Yet, you chose the burden over sulking in the darkness, remaining among the ordinary when you so clearly had the makings of a star, and your status of high popularity among the masses was proof of it.

So be it if your cheeks ached from smiling at frivolous fans that your laugh sounded less like your own the more you forced it, that flirtations of others felt like empty praises, or that every project you agreed to felt less and less stimulating.

So fucking be it.

Fame is fickle; you knew this all too well, but your existence felt meaningless without it.

Empty.

All the world's riches, the undivided favor you garnered from the public, and the sparkling awards cluttered your penthouse display shelves…

Even with all that at your fingertips, you had yet to feel seen…

Seen and truly adored.

“Two fucking minutes! Get your ass in position. This interview is being broadcast live, remember?” your manager harped at you from the hall, causing you to grunt in frustration before yelling back, “Would you shut your trap?! Fucking hell…I'm coming!”

You set aside the whiskey glass in your left hand, ran your right through your recently styled hair, and checked your reflection one last time.

“It's only a radio show. One little interview and you can go home and get black-out drunk…” the idea of spending some much-deserved time alone after running around doing a press tour brought a sad smile to your face as you stood and exited the dim room.

This would be your last stop, an interview with Louisiana’s prided radio host, and the last person you'd need to put a show on for before returning home.

“Finally…” your manager grumbled as you stepped into the hall, giving you a once over as the two of you strolled down the hall towards the host recording area, “Don't fuck this up. People say this ones a real talker and can make or break ya..” he mumbled begrudgingly.

You paid his incessant pestering no mind, flashing him a suave smile as you both stopped before a heavy door, “Don't tell me you're starting to care about my reputation now? Thought you only saw me as a nice money grab…”

Your smile grew as laughter bubled in your chest, seeing the other slowly become agitated at your backhanded comments.

“Why, you little-”

“Oh, don't be rude, sir. You'll spoil my good mood, and god knows sour spirits bring bad luck,” you smirked, enjoying the scrunch of his nose as his expression reflected his true nature, but before he could snap, you pushed the door open and slipped into the soundproofed station room.

What a fucking pain he is…

You cursed the raging man outside, sighing softly as the sound of jazz lingered through the air and the smell of freshly brewed coffee mixed with a distinct cologne engulfed you.

The space felt and looked inviting, relaxing even, but what caught your attention was the man who occupied it.

He sat in a desk chair across the small room, facing a table full of controls and a mic to match. His face was lowered from the device, glasses resting comfortably on the bridge of his nose as he stared at what you assumed was a script for your conversation with him, but the simmering amazement overtook your curiosity about the paper he held you felt hearing him hum along to the song he was airing.

You didn't dare move an inch closer, satisfied with watching and listening to him from afar, oddly entrapped by the silent allure he cast.

It was no mystery that people loved the sound of his voice. You'd be fooling yourself if you said you hadn't found his commentary enchanting, but looking at him in the flesh, you were sure he'd flourish on the silver screen like no other.

He could indeed win the eyes of many…

Yours especially, and to some degree, he had already, but you hesitated to admit it even as he turned to face you.

Oh…. he is a beauty, that's for sure…

That was the singular thought in your mind as he smiled, standing from his seat before approaching you with all the confidence you'd merely portrayed.

“Hello there. You must be Y/n L/n. I'm Alastor Hartifelt. It's a pleasure to meet you, my friend!”

His voice was as smooth, melting into the background melodies inexplicably, and your heart lightened immensely as he held out a hand for you to shake.

“The..the pleasure is all mine, Mr. Hartifelt..” you inwardly scolded your delayed greeting, losing track of your practiced charm relatively quickly in his grasp. Still, in seconds, you recovered from the blunder while returning his smile.

Alastor took you in with a glance up and down your figure, cataloging every detail of your appearance out of habit, but when his gaze met yours, one thought crossed his perceptive mind.

Longing?

How curious…

You hid the familiar emotion well; seeing past the veil of contentment wasn't tricky, and though he was tempted to bring it forth.

You two shook hands briefly but firmly. Alastor stepped back, gliding his hand out to mention towards the recording station. “Come, have a seat, and please call me Alastor. We will be on air after all; formalities aren't necessary for an engaging broadcast.” His smile grew, emitting an unearthly kindness as you nodded in understanding before sitting in the chair opposite his.

“You make an excellent point, Alastor. I hope we enjoy each other's company.” You chuckle softly, feeling a tad nervous for a reason unknown but genuinely harboring a rise in excitement, hearing him respond promptly.

“I have no doubt we will…” Alastor muses more to himself, a delicate edge to his voice as he trailed behind you, and a certain twinge of intrigue rattled your spine at the implication.

For the first time in a long time, you weren't dreading the inclinations of your fame, gradually succumbing to the sparks of joy Alastor evoked with the most straightforward words and becoming surer of the fact as he took his seat next to you.

“Shall we begin?” he implies cheekily, and you reply in a quick, witty fashion, “We shall.”

————-

“Care for a drink, my friend? I believe we’ve earned ourselves a cold glass of whiskey… that is, If your evening is unreserved.” Alastor made the offer moments after switching your respective microphones off, quickly arranging the recording panel to a specific setting as he listened for your response.

Your mouth moved quicker than your mind; a distinct rush overtook at the thought of spending more time with the charismatic radio host, “I'd be delighted to join you. I must agree that our interview went quite well. It's rare to have an easy conversation with a stranger these days..”

Alastor raised a brow, sparing you a glance as he finished sliding keys and flicking switches into place to keep a calming stream of music lingering in his broadcast, “So, I'm still a stranger to you?… My, and I thought we were getting on so well…“

He spurs you casually, an air of hurt in his expression, and it stuns you, causing a red hue to rise on your cheeks, “Th-that's not at all what I meant, Alastor…” Your lower head twinges of embarrassment staining your consciousness, and for the third time that evening, Alastor had chipped away at your charm.

He enjoyed it….

Seeing you falter and conform to his standards, though you didn't need to, at any time, you could've remained indifferent to him and taken your leave the moment he shut your mic off, but you remained.

Solely because you'd grown attached to him or the defect he had on you.

Humbling, genuine understanding, but above all else, validation.

“My dear, I am only poking fun. I take no offense to your words, and I hope you'll grant me the same courtesy!” Alastor reached for you, thumb and forefinger slipping under your chin to lift it, and you obeyed his gesture with a soft smile. “Oh…I…”

You paused, swallowing thickly as he raised himself from the chair, head lowered toward yours as he stood above you.

Had he always been so tall?

So brooding?

You weren't entirely sure, but your heart raced, every nerve in your body tingled with anticipation as if you were a deer caught in his headlights, but you couldn't retreat or evade him.

“You what?..” Alastor cooed quietly, chocolate eyes on fire with an emotion you'd long forgotten but returned subconsciously.

Control.

You needed to be back in control, or the next breath between you two might lead to something…

Your mind played scenario after scenario, beginning to short circuit as he peered down at you, lips only inches from yours, and his other hand reaching to caress your cheek. His touch is searing, warmer than those you'd felt before, intentional, and your entire being buzzed in his grasp as if in a drunken stupor.

He was dangerous… able to tear through your facade easily, which was terrifying.

Polarizing.

Don't let him get any closer…

Keep him at a distance…

You've only just met him...

Warnings rang in your head, but your eyes lowered to his lips, and your voice remained quiet as you responded to his question.

“I" 'd like to have that drink before the night ends. Wouldn't you?"With a gentle nudge of your head and a soft laugh, you draw away from Alastor's touch. The space between you increases, and the ability to breathe becomes less strenuous as you stand to your feet, collecting your overcoat before slipping it on, "I'm not familiar with the city yet, so I'll leave it to you to show me around." The chipper in your tone amuses Alastor; you'd perfected the art of illusion so well that in the clutches of what some might consider an intimate moment, you balked and reclaimed sensibility like it never occurred, though you wished for it to carry on further.

He'd met and spoken to his fair share of actors, learned their ticks and telling habits, and used it against them when he saw benefit in toying with them.

However, being able to see right through you evoked another motive for the host, and he dared to think it was mutual.

"Well, I'd be honored to show you the ins and outs of this lively town I call home so long as you promise to keep up," Alastor retrieves his coat, a heavy jet black trench withered accents paired with matching hat, stylish in all the right ways -presumably warm to be in. Still, you were sure if he ventured into the night dressed like that, any stranger would fear him.

They had good reason to, but you didn't need to know why.

Not yet…

With a coy smile, you followed Alastor out of the station, matching his strides as he paved the way to a nearby speakeasy, "You'll find it quite entertaining, my friend. Few visit at this hour, but my dear Mimzy puts on a vine show regardless!" Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of Alastor being infatuated with another, for what reason you weren't sure, but your disappointment flashed clear in your eyes that he took it upon himself to clarify his remark.

"She is an old and loyal acquaintance. Nothing more. Nothing less."

You perked up at the explanation, face burning with a blush as you raised both hands to dissuade his interpretation of your expression, "I understand. You needn't explain anything to me-"

Alastor halted in his tracks, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he peered at you curiously, "Hm, so you did assume we were something to begin with?..."

Shit, was I that obvious?...

"Not at all..." you lie, as calm as ever but internally conflicted.

How could he go about messing with you so boldly?..

And why did it excite you?..

"Your eyes say otherwise, my friend..." he counters your nervous reply with a smug smirk, beginning to walk off as if he wasn't toying with your head, "My eyes?..." you whisper in response.

"They are the doorway to the soul...I've learned to walk through said doors, and you, my dear, hide a lot of fears behind them." Alastor chuckles, ears tingling as you reclaim your spot at his upon reaching your destination. Still, you're less concerned with the dark alley lit with a singular neon sign situated above a heavy lead door and more worried about what he is implying regarding your emotions.

Who was he to know anything?

Sure, he was pleasant to be around, an avid intellectual with a knack for continuing conversation with you, and you had no reason to believe he'd been faking his friendliness to you from the start...

That still gave him no right analyzing you, prod at your exterior with more confidence than necessary, and you intended to let him know it.

A glare beset your expression, mouth open to speak, but you weren't allowed to do so as the lead door swung open.

Alastor guided you close to his side as a gaggle of patrons spilled from the doorway, ranting and raving about the time they had inside. Their rowdy behavior irked him, but you did not comment on the matter as he placed a hand on your back to lead you inside after their dysfunctional departure.

“Drunken idiots,” he mumbled begrudgingly, and for the first time you'd seen the radio host truly bothered. He'd been so composed during your interview, inviting and flirtatious on and off the air, so getting a glimpse of his annoyed state felt like a treat.

At least you knew he had flaws, insignificant but telling ones.

“Um. Alastor, you can..” you paused, unsure if you wanted to let him know he was still holding onto your waist as he led you inside the dim speakeasy. Alastor hummed, irritation gone, and his coy smile widening as you shuffled alongside him. “Y-you can let me go now.”

“Oh, nonsense, my dear! I wouldn't want you to run into unsavory characters like the ones that just passed..”

He quickly navigated the lingering crowd, clearly familiar with the club's layout, and you marbled at its unique atmosphere as he led you through it. “I can handle myself, Alastor,” you tried again to reason, but Alastor was quick to give a response as he ushered you to sit at an unoccupied lounge chair complete with a table and lamp.

“I'm sure you can but I'm rather fond of keeping you close.” He sat next to you after setting his coat and hat aside.

What did he mean by that?..

“How selfish of you,” you feigned disappointment as he shifted to face you with a soft chuckle leaving his lips, “Would you be so kind as to forgive my greed for your attention?” Alastor stares you down, noting how you bite your lip, another nervous tick you'd yet to disregard in his presence. “I'll consider it if you buy me a drink or two..”

The suggestion was meant to sound confident, unmothered by the mounting pressure in your chest, but it came out breathless. You were sure that you'd mastered the art of indiffenece, permanently established a mask of charm, but as much as you wished to maintain the certainty…

Alastair disproved it with little more than a gesture or equally compelling word.

It was unsettling, intoxicating too, but undeniably riveting.

“A small price to pay,” he mumbled, eyes lowering to your lips as you laughed softly and leaned back to admire the other patrons roaming or dancing around. “I never said I was cheap..” you taste him, gaze drifting to him as he shifted closer. You wanted to jump out of your skin as his arm came to rest behind you, head lulling to ward your cheek as he breathed into your ear. The resulting warmth made you shiver, quickening your breaths, and your body tingled with intrigue.

“No…” Alastor affirmed your jest, free hand raising your chin, tilting your head to face him as he continued, “…but you are desperate to be loved. One might say that's just as inappropriate, mon Cher..”

His tone dripped with condensation, a sensual purr loud enough to drown out the jazz and chatter surrounding you, and for a moment, he was all you could comprehend.

You should've felt angry, unsettled even, but his words struck a more profound emotion.

Comfort.

You weren't crazy, a constant wonder for the masses to marvel at and never care about.

Alastor could see you.

He wanted to…

“And so what if I am? Why would it concern you?..” there was no harsh undertone to your question, and it earned a sultry hum of amusement from him. “You've interested me, so I must not ignore your charade. I'm partial to the truth of a person, and you, my dear, abandon it in the hopes of success..”

Spot on.

It is shamelessly hurtful but direct nonetheless.

You clicked your tongue dismissively, attempting to turn your head away from his grasp, but Alastor held you tighter.

A glare crossed your face at the brushing grip he established, but a pool of excitement rushed to your crotch as well.

“I'm not one of your scripts to read, Alastor..” you scoff, rolling your eyes to make your point clear, but he isn't affected by the arrogant gesture.

“My apologies if it seems that way, but my intention to know you, inside and out, is purely innocent...”

“I find that hard to believe…” you retort, very aware of the minimal space between you two, and it became harder to focus on anything else but his soft lips that were stretched thin into a smile.

God, I was doomed from the beginning… you think to yourself as you laugh at your shameless line of sight. “Believe what you wish, my friend, but I enjoy being the object of affection..”

“That's inappropriate to suggest,” you mutter, face burning with blush and your hands raising to grip his wrist and collar. Alastor hummed, amused by your denial, “Mm, I suppose it is…would you like another apology?”

You shake your head, tugging him in by the collar of his shirt, eyes lifting to his, full of determination, “A kiss will do just fine…”

He holds your gaze, checking for mockery, but there is none. “That's the first honest thing you've said all night, mon cher,” Alastor points out in a hushed tone, lowering his head to place a slow kiss on your lips as they pull into a satisfied smile.

xxxxxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx

I rewatched Heartstopper for this. Was it helpful? Yes. Did it make me cry harder than the first time I watched it? Also, yes. Will I forever love that show?… (yes). Again, this is just part 1! The second half is being drafted. Please look forward to it. I'm not sure it'll include smut…but I'll debate on that later.

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

He's so cheekyyyy but I love him for it hehe like he’s just the right amount of ‘cocky asshole’ ya know? ❤️ credit to creator!

327 notes · View notes

tzuyuscloud · 11 months ago

Text

My Loser Kim M.J x fem!deaf reader

A/n: This fic took awhile because I have no knowledge of Sensorineural hearing loss (SHL) whatsoever and wanted to get an understanding so I was reading articles and watching videos. If any information is incorrect please don’t hesitate to correct me respectfully. :)

Pairings: deaf!reader x non idol Kim Minji

Scenario: Kim Minji finds you in the art studio alone after being harassed by fellow students.

Warnings: Mention of blood, bullying, horrible parents, ableism (NEVER BE ABLEIST PEOPLE >:| )

Tags: Romace, college au, friends to lovers, angst??, art student y/n, loser Minji

⋆˙⟡ Star ⋆˙⟡

If my tears fall

Down in my universe

Turns into a new world

Time to find my way back home

As a famous artist said, “painting is just another way of keeping a diary.” And that’s exactly how y/n saw her creative process. As painting. She first started painting when she was 12 years old after she felt like her life was meaningless, she felt like she didn’t have anyone who understood her pain, so she spoke to a canvas. Sneaking into her grandfather’s studio and started splashing paint on the canvas, not caring when drops of color stained her freshly washed uniform.

She would come home and get interrogated by her parents as to why she was covered in paint, and she would sarcastically state the obvious, “i was painting, duh.” Thus being the beginning of her artists life when her parents placed her in an art school where she discovered more of her hidden talents with art.

Now as y/n was in her sophomore year of university, majoring in fine arts but focusing on painting specifically, she improved with every new painting she created. Her classmates envied the fact that she was a natural born genius, but the only thing that made her different than everyone else is the fact that she couldn’t hear.

Y/n’s classmates often sabotaged her works so that they wouldn’t be displayed in competitions or recognized by guest artists. They all envied her to the point where they often hurt her as well.

“Oh my, look what we have here” a group of students, led by one of the board members daughter, walked into the studio where y/n stayed painting late at night. Her body tensed up feeling the familiar vibrations of their footsteps causing her to jump when Jimin placed her hand on her shoulder.

“Whatcha painting?” Jimin said as she bent down to your level causing your arm to shakily create a false line on the brightly decorated canvas, ruining the painting. You closed your eyes hoping that they would disappear along with the world, often times when you we’re overwhelmed you would just close your eyes and turn down your hearing aid, because then the world would actually disappear.

“remember she can’t hear you.” one of Jimin’s little minions retorted causing the leader to roll her eyes.

“don’t be fooled, she has an hearing aid” Jimin then taps the device causing y/n to jump and clutch her ear, she angrily faced Jimin with a frown upon her face, looking eye to eye with the girl. “watch who your glaring at before I make you blind too!” Jimin smacked the girl on the head forcing her to look down,

“you think you’re entering the art competition? Ha, funny. You have no reason to be at this school anyways let alone enter into a competition. You will always be lower than everyone else-”

Jimin was cut off by a painful feeling that lingered on her cheek causing her and everyone around her to gasp and stare at y/n in shock. “the only low one is you.” y/n whispered, her voice shaky as she was now afraid of what was to come.

“oh~ how brave of our little y/n” Jimin smiled before grabbing your hair. While the rest of the girls knifed the painting, shredding up the canvas.

“ayo Minji! Make sure to grab everything from out of the locker that is labeled with red tape.”

“bruh, you literally said this already, I got it, I got it. How hard can going into the art building and grabbing your materials be?” Minji groaned on the phone, as she walked towards the entrance of the art building. It was pushing midnight and Danielle needed her art supplies that she had forgotten, but ended up catching a cold and wasn’t able to get them, so Minji being a great friend offered to grab them for the girl.

“alright alright! Thanks again Min, I owe you one!” Danielle smiled through the phone before hanging up. Minji walked through the halls, searching for studio 214A when she heard small noises coming from a fairly lit room. She peaked her head in the entrance and found a small girl sitting on the ground picking what looked like broken materials up while wiping away at her nose.

Once Minji squinted to get a closer look she saw what she was wiping wasn’t snot but blood, causing her eyes to widen and immediately run to the girl. “Hey bro are you alright, your nose-“ As the girl looked up at Minji from the shadow she casted. Minji saw that her lip was bruised and she had a scar on her head as well. “who did this to you?” she frowned. Y/n didn’t respond but just stared up the taller woman with tired eyes.

“can I help you with your wounds at least?” Minji asked again hoping for at least a nod. Y/n then pointed to the expensive hearing device that laid crushed into small pieces on the ground next to her. Minji felt her heart sink into her stomach as her eyes paneled to the broken device to y/n’s bleeding ear in which the device used to sit in.

Minji then squeaked out a small, “y-you can’t hear me?- minji don’t be stupid” before grabbing her phone and typing out sentences.

Who did this to you? Im gonna help you with your wounds if that is okay with you?

She faced the screen towards y/n and gently places it in her hands. Y/n looked up at Minji with soft eyes before typing something back.

Jimin and her friends.

Okay

Y/n handed the phone back to Minji and Minji never ran to grab a first aid kit so fast in her life once she got y/n’s consent to help her. She gently dabbed all the scars with cotton balls and places bandaids on them all, before picking up the pieces to the very expensive device and placed them in a plastic baggie for y/n.

Once she helped her clean up everything, including herself she offered to walk y/n home.

Do you stay alone?

Minji shook her head no at the question before softly speaking, “I live with my friend.” she said quietly leaving Minji shocked. She didn’t know the girl could speak, but she also knew very little about the girl and her her disability in the first place.

“What’s your name?” Minji asked and earning silence as she stupidly didn’t type out the question.

What’s your name?

Mine is Kim Minji

Y/n stared up at Minji and smiled, “Park f/n” she spoke. Every time y/n spoke, Minji got excited inside as the girl’s soft voice healed something inside of her. The whole way to y/n’s apartment was filled with Minji asking questions and eventually exchanging numbers where Minji texted y/n all through the night.

Minji still couldn't get the phrase "Jimin and her friends" out of her head. Doing everything she could to try and figure out who exactly Jimin was and why she would ever physically harm anyone.

Minji "Dani I have a question." The bright faced Aussie looked up at her best friend with a smile,

"What's up?"

"Mmm you're in the art department a lot," Minji paused "do you know someone who goes by the name Jimin?" just then Danielle's eyes widened and she let out a small gasp.

"ugh!! everyone knows her! Look I'm not one to talk behind people's backs but she is a bully" Dani huffed out with an animated frown. Danielle was never one to talk badly about people, in fact she spoke to everyone no matter how they came off or appeared, and if she saw someone who was sad, all she had to do was flash her signature smile and suddenly all clouds were replaced with sunshine and warmth. "Why do you ask though, Min?"

"Well when I went to get your supplies last night...there was this girl-erm Park f/n, and she was hurt badly. She said Jimin and her friends did it to her and that they always hurt her." Just then Minji was looking down and picking at her fingers, something she has a habit of doing when she's anxious.

Danielle jumped up from her spot on the sofa, "Wait...y/n?!" she slapped her hand over her mouth causing Minji's eyes to widen.

"w-what? is there something wrong?"

Danielle sat down after calming herself down to make her poor friend less worried, "that poor girl, she's in majority of my classes but I haven't noticed she was being assaulted." tears welled in the younger girl's eyes. "I try talking to her but she just rolls her eyes and looks away. I don't think she likes me"

Minji comforted her best friend as she pouted about the thought of someone potentially not liking her. "Dani"

"hmm?" the brunette faced her friend.

"y/n is deaf. Have you not known?" Minji asked genuinely. Danielle dropped the fruit that was in her hand and slowly turned to Minji.

She didn't know wether to keep her mouth open or close it but she looked like a fish out of water, "Im such a horrible person, everyday I would ask her questions and try to make conversation but- wow."

Minji cut the girl off, "well from what I have learned she can hear when she has her hearing aid, but recently it was broken because of those bitches. And when I catch them I will-" Danielle cut the girl off with a worried stare.

"Hey I know you are worried about y/n but violence does not solve more violence! What we need to do is report this to the school immediately to get justice for y/n." Danielle stood up proudly, while Minji scoffed from her place on the couch.

"Beating Jimin's ass seems like enough justice for me" she mumbled, earning a glare from the peaceful girl.

The older girl stood up, patting her best friend on the back, "well good luck with your peace treaties. Im gonna go take y/n out to eat"

"oh a date?~" Danielle teased causing Minji to blush, "no! she doesn't like me like that"

"But YOU never denied not liking her so, a one sided date, eh?" Danielle urged on, Minji grabbed the nearest pillow from the couch and smacked her friend on the head before running out the shared apartment.

"Ill be back!" she shouted on her way out.

Entering the small cafe, Minji noticed how you doodled in a sketchbook as you waiting for her to arrive.

“Hi y/n!” she greeted waving, silence. Her brows furrowed in confusion going to wave again but then as she walked to take a seat, she noticed that the small pink device was no longer in your ear.

Once she sat down you looked up feeling her presence, flashing her a small smile. You took out a small, cutely decorated notebook that was filled with stickers, and a pen before scribbling a few words down.

Hi!! :) I apologize, I can’t get a new hearing aid until next month. My parents are too busy to ship it to me

What kind of parents are too busy to tend to their own child?! Minji thought to herself. She couldn’t help but wonder why they would brush her off like that.

It’s okay, we can talk like this. Look.

Minji then tapped the table in y/n’s line of sight to get her attention. Her hands then started moving, forming words that were a bit choppy but still clearly showed that she put effort and time into learning.

‘Im learning sign language so you can speak comfortably’ her heart was racing afraid she messed up a few signs, because y/n just stared. She then smiled and looked down shyly trying to contain her excitement as no one has ever tried learning sign language to try and communicate with her, not even her own parents.

Y/n’s fingers swiftly flowed in different directions, speaking freely and comfortably. Although Minji couldn’t catch half of what she was saying, she still gazed at her with bright eyes.

“Thank you” Y/n whispered as she signed so that Minji could learn along with her, “for being nice to me” she said softly, looking up at Minji’s big brown eyes that never left hers.

Minji had ordered their food and drinks, sharing everything she had as y/n told her that she rarely tries new stuff because she is never introduced to anything.

I used to travel and do fun things before…the accident

Y/n gently pushed the book towards Minji as she cutely stuffed her face with fruit, earning a slight giggle from the opposite girl.

“Accident?” Minji mumbled to herself. Y/n let out a “hmm?” as she saw Minji’s lips move.

Accident?

Minji wrote but then quickly scribbled more,

You don’t have to tell me, it sounds personal

Y/n laughed at the panic writing, waving her hand and brushing it off.

It’s okay, I will tell you another time

You nodded before changing the subject, engaging in conversation that had you both laughing for hours without realizing how much time has passed. On your way back to her apartment, you heard her let out a small gasp and point to the small arcade that brightly lit up the evening skies. She took your hand, pulling you towards the machines as she eyes all of the plushies.

Letting out of the words “I want” slightly below a whisper. Minji couldn’t help but cave into her cute squeals of excitement as she pointed to all of the plushies she eyed. Pulling her wallet out she placed two bills into the machine bringing it to life.

Y/n excitedly jumped to hold the levers and when she thought she had the correct spot, she pushed the button. The claw grabbed the stuffed bunny, bringing it to the drop but dropping the bunny right next to it instead, before powering down.

The girl turned to Minji, puffing her bottom lip out in a pout before turning to walk away. Before she could take another step, Minji grabbed her arm, bringing her to a stop. The older girl then placed more money into the machine, focusing hard on the task at hand as she pushed the button. She hadn’t realized she closed her eyes, hoping that she would win the plush before she was shaken awake by y/n who was jumping around with the pink plushie in her arms.

“Bun bun! Bun bun!” she squeaked happily prancing around Minji who watched with sparkles in her eyes. She wrapped her arm around the smaller girl’s shoulder, walking her home before it got too late.

Y/n stood on her porch with a red tint to her face as she failed to look Minji in the eyes. “m’bye.” she waved, “thank you for winning bun bun” she spoke again and before she turned to enter her home, she quickly gave Minji a peck on the cheek before running inside.

Minji on the other hand, was stunned.

“She wants me bro!” The older girl said as her roommate rolled her eyes, laughing at the description story of their “hang out”

“That’s cute, she sounds adorable I wanna be her friend” Dani pouted remembering the fact that, said girl side eyes her during class. “what about me do you think she hates?”

Minji’s thick brows spoke before she did, “I wouldn’t say she hates you, she just doesn’t let her guard down easily” which confused her since she spoke to you easily. “I don’t know why she clings to me so quickly though”

Danielle laughed, “are you serious Min, you’re literally like a golden retriever. Your aura is so welcoming.” Minji blushed at the compliments,

“you think im a golden retriever girl” she wiggled her brows causing the both of them to burst into laughter. “but on a serious note, I think I like y/n”

The Australian girl looked at her roommate with a ‘duh bitch’ look, “I thought we all knew this?” she said with sass.

“I- goodnight”

Given y/n’s situation, she still had no hearing aid, causing her hell during her lectures as she had to rely on notes from generous classmates. She came from a well off family, growing her her parents would take her and her older brother on vacations and many outings, spoiling them, especially y/n since she was their princess. Treating her to whatever she wanted. Despite being handed whatever as a kid, her mother was still very strict and controlling at times.

You were always sent to every educational lesson after school as well as extracurriculars, and once she found out you had a talent in art, she ran with it and enrolled you in art programs. The life you had before the accident was chaotic, you didn’t enjoy it but you tolerated it because it was better than most. Though after the accident, you were pushed away. You were no longer the “princess” but more so the “burden.” You vividly remember your mother screaming at you to listen to what she was saying, even though you couldn’t clearly distinguish what she was saying.

She was in denial about her daughter being deaf to the point where she refused to tell anyone. Instead she blocked you out from the world, Park y/n had disappeared from the wealthy social circle and sent to study at a well off university. Anything to keep you out of your mother’s sight.

A knock sounded at your apartment door causing your roommate to jump up from her spot at the kitchen table to grab it. You looked up at the shuffles to find your older brother entering the place, smiling as she made conversation with your roommate.

He then looked at you with a smile before signing, “how are you, princess?” as you sat on the couch curled in a ball under blankets. You flashed him a thumbs up. You watched as he pulled a pink bag from behind his back, eyes following his every move as he handed you the bag. You looked up at him with a confused face considering there were no major holidays or birthdays near.

You opened the box and saw a brand new hearing aid. You looked up at your brother before tearing up. “thank you” you mumbled, wrapping your arms around him. Part of you didn’t wanna let go as it felt like that was the only family you had that truly cared about you.

“Of course you know…since I caused it” he whispered as he rubbed his neck. You knew he would forever feel everlasting guilt for what he did.

Summer of 2016

“Wait for me!” scrawny little y/n ran as fast as she could behind her brother and his friends. Her pink sundress flying with each stride, and her bare feet connecting with the grass.

She huddled around the older boys as they all piled fireworks on top of each other in the field. Different kind of pyro tied together and linked by a singular string that would be lit.

“This is gonna be awesome! I can’t wait to see the explosion” Y/n’s brother exclaimed, tackling one of his friends. Y/n was oblivious to what was actually happening, and got easily distracted by the beautiful flowers that coincidentally surrounded the pile of pyro.

She wasn’t aware of the stack being lit until she heard constant shouting from her brother and the rest of the guys. “Y/N MOVE!!” As she turned around she was thrown back as the fireworks went off in front of her. She felt someone pick her up saving her from the rest of the loud explosion.

All she could do was cry as she covered both of her ears. “It hurts!” the little girl sobbed. From the commotion her parents ran outside to see what had happened and was met with their daughter being cradled in her brother’s arms crying. She was covered in burn marks from head to toe.

“What happened?! What did you boys do?!!” Mrs. Park shouted, grabbing her daughter. Leaving no time to explain she rushed off to the hospital with her husband not too far behind with the boys.

Hours spent in the waiting room, the doctor had eventually came bearing the news of their daughter. “Miss y/n is doing fine. She is very brave for her age” he complimented.

Mrs. Park smiled faintly, “thank you doctor, is she healthy?” The man’s smile faded at the question before exhaling.

“Your daughter has hearing loss in both ears, she can respond to some sound but only depending how close she is to the noise. We recommend seeing a specialist for ears so that she can get a proper hearing aid that works best for her.” Mrs. Park threw herself into her husband’s chest with loud sobs.

“What am I gonna do with her now! I can’t let the world know she’s deaf!” she sobbed causing a gasp from the doctor. Y/n’s brother on the other hand felt guilty for what happened never thinking he could look his baby sister in the eyes again.

Moving forward, y/n got left at home and forgotten by her mother. She no longer received attention, not even basic conversations from her mother. She was put in more activities and after school classes to stay out of sight of her mother. The world had forgotten that the Park family had a daughter as she was hidden.

Present day

Y/n and her brother, Kai sat on the couch catching up about each other as Kai took over their father’s company.

“How’s mom and dad? Have they asked about me?” y/n whimpered, hating the fact that her own parents lost love for her, their one and only daughter.

Kai pulled his little sister in for a hug, “Father worries about you, he always talks about how he misses his little princess” you smiled at the thought of your father missing you, the thought warming your heart. “but mother. She’s still a cold hearted b-“

“woah okay okay, I see” You lightly laughed.

Kai then changed the subject, “What about you though sis, how has school been?”

All of a sudden you blurted out, “I think I like someone.” covering your mouth quickly. Kai started squealing like a teenage girl,

“omg omg what’s their name!?” He clapped his hands causing you to burst into laughter.

“Stop being silly, haha. Her name is Kim Minji” you said with a deep red tint forming on your cheeks. “We went to a cafe together and she helped me when I was…stuck on…an art project haha” you laughed nervously. You never wanted Kai to get worried about you if you told him about Jimin and her clan.

“she wants you” He joked, but little did you both know she actually did.

Minji: Would you like to go on a date Saturday evening?

Minji was pacing back and forth her apartment as she panicked at the message she impulsively sent to y/n. “You will be fine girlfriend, I doubt she would say no” Danielle gave the older girl a pat on the shoulder to reassure her.

“But what if she thinks Im some old creep who just happened to win her a plushie at the arcade and learn sign language?!” Minji pulled at her hair causing Danielle to roll her eyes.

“Puh-lease. She would never-“ the sound of the phone going off caught their attention. Minji quickly picked the phone up, reading the message aloud.

“I would love to, smiley face. SHE WANTS ME!” The Korean girl shouted before jumping around the apartment.

Dani laughed as she walked back into her room, “Nerd”

Minji laid in the sand next to y/n taking in the evening sky after a long day of playing in the water and writing in the sand. “I’ve never had this much fun since I was a kid” Y/n whispered turning to face Minji. “Thank you for accepting me Min” The words left Minji speechless at the thought of people not accepting her because of her disability.

Minji sat up, causing y/n to follow as she was concerned by the girl’s sudden movements. “You’re more than what people think you are y/n, and those who don’t accept you don’t deserve you because you are everything anyone could ask for and I-“ Pausing abruptly her heart started racing as she almost slipped up and confessed her feelings to the younger girl.

“You what?” Y/n smiled cheekily, playfully hitting Minji’s arm. Her face turning redder than the sunset as she started fumbling like the loser she was.

‘I like you, y/n’

Y/n’s eyes widened in shock, hoping she wasn’t hallucinating what she just saw you sign to her. “Like…like as a friend or-“

Before she could finish her sentence Minji grabbed her face, finally feeling the softness of y/n’s lips, the softness she had always imagined being on hers since the day she saw you in the art studio. You returned the kiss pulling her closer to you afraid it was all a lucid dream that would fade away as soon as you let go.

“Like you like you, as in I want you to be my girlfriend” Minji panted as she broke the kiss that had you feeling all kinds of butterflies.

“Such a loser” y/n giggled and threw herself in Minji’s arms. “But you’re my loser”

“SHE SAID YES!!” Minji stood up cheering for everyone to hear, “Park y/n is my girlfriend!!!” You couldn’t help but laugh at the action and when Minji turned to face you again, you couldn’t help but notice the sparkle in her eyes.

Pulling her into a hug while burying your face in her shirt you mumbled, “Kim Minji is my loser”

#kim minji x fem reader #newjeans scenarios #minji newjeans #kim minji x reader #newjeans #kpop gg #kpop scenarios

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enviedear · 1 year ago

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holy terrain ⟶ anakin skywalker

description ⌙ anakin can't deny the pull his bratty princess has over him, or rather, has always had over him.

pairing ⌙ anakin x f!princess!reader

warnings ⌙ nsfw, 18+ mdni i will block you. mean(ish)!anakin, equally mean(ish)!reader, they're toxic 'friends', an unreciprocated childhood kiss, also an unexpected kiss, mention of alcohol, brief mention of anidala (they're not tg), a flashback (it's not long dw), improper acts in a royal garden, fingering f!receiving, use of the nicknames petnames princess and jedi, no use of y/n.

word count ⌙ 4.1k

— request | masterlist

ur gonna have to pry anakin & princess!reader fics from my cold dead hands

loosely based off of mother's song.

to the untrained eye, the elaborate ball around you would seem perfect, flawless even. a truly divine display of political power and proceeds all around, but all you're able to take note of is the glaring absence of a certain jedi knight.

it's not your place to ask for his whereabouts, and the idea of anyone knowing that you're looking for him has your head throbbing.

you'd grown up with him, running around the halls of both the jedi temple and your castle respectively.

while your mother, the queen, would discuss and debate with the senior jedi and pompous planetary delegates— you were off getting the young padawan into trouble.

you've never been the most considerate to him— rather, you liked to tease and push him around. anakin was your first and only acquaintance to allow you to deter from the rigid nature of your regality.

he'd take your witticisms and throw some back at you with even more vigor, and when you'd roughhouse with him he never drew back his hits.

he was anakin, and to him, you were just you.

but since the war, and its recent end— you've seen little of him. the most, if only, of him you've seen has been on your holopad.

'hero without fear', the words most always surrounding his likeness.

you're half inclined to think that the boy you grew up with may now be too substantial for you.

you fiddle with your dress' skirt, trying to keep your eyes from drifting back to the jedi and their apprentices who are present, lined in an almost perfect row against a wall. one more glance and you fear you may be drawn into a long conversation about the force, and you'd rather brood in your corner than deal with that.

your body goes stiff at the feeling of two hands coming from behind to clutch your shoulders, "princess, don't tell me you're sulking."

the voice that hits your ears is familiar and warm, and you fight back a grin as you turn to face the young man, "no. but i will now you're here."

his lips upturn in a simper, "oh, then shall i leave you? all alone?"

you hum, in faux thought, "never! i always need a jester at my side. what could be better than your funny face?"

you take him in while he laughs off your quip. his hair is neatly out of his face, longer and more curly than you've ever seen, and his long arms have become fuller, muscles apparent even with his tunics and robe.

his black and flowing garments starkly contrast your fitted and fair-shaded gown, and you take it as a reminder of your evident differences. anakin is a warrior now, while you're left to relegate menial court duty. in a strange way, you envy him.

his path has standards and steps to prove to him and everyone else that he is growing, learning, and becoming more. in your case, you come up lacking.

most people look and speak to you as though you're an idea. a sheltered royal with little to no concept of the galaxy around her.

you like to believe their whispers weren't true, but as you look upon your jedi companion, you feel a deep sense of ineptitude. how could you compete or compare to someone who has seen more planets than you could even name?

you put a small smile on your face, trying to block out your thoughts, "how have you been? i heard a certain senator has been keeping a close eye on you."

anakin's eyes narrow, "royal gossip? may i be privy to such information, your highness?"

he's being coy and you know it, you bring your voice to a whisper, "amidala. i hear you've been seen fleeing her chambers."

he hums, hands coming to rest at his hips, "well, princess, are you asking if the whispers are true," he pauses, head dipping closer to you and whispering, "or are you confused as to what goes on behind closed doors?"

you roll your eyes, "i most certainly do not need any aid in understanding such matters. i have my fair share of suitors. i just wonder how long until such information finds itself back to your council."

he gives you a contemptuous look, "you think too highly of my affection toward her. besides, i've heard she's found someone new to engage with."

"you've heard, or you were told?" you can't help the smugness in your words. truthfully, you've known of anakin's obsession with the young senator for years, and when you learned of her shared interest in him at the beginning of the war you had a strange aggression towards the idea.

the knowledge of the endeavor finally coming to an end relieves an unidentified weight on your chest.

anakin waves you off, "the specifics aren't important, however..." he trails off, looking you up and down.

his words and look pique your interest, "yes, anakin?"

you watch as his eyes leave your form to scan the ballroom. guests are everywhere, leaving the room crowded— and the walls seem to reek of whiskey and nectar wine— usual amongst 'high status' officials.

anakin leans down to you to whisper into your ear, "follow me."

your eyebrows knit together but you do as you're instructed, slipping away from the noisy ball and out into the night air.

there are a few stragglers outside, either intoxicated, engaging in less than pure actions, or a mix of the two.

you look away from a couple touching each other hungrily to glower at anakin, "why are we out here?"

his head turns to look back at you before he continues forward, "patience, dear princess."

your face scrunches in confusion but you continue on, hands pulling your skirts off the ground as you enter into the royal gardens.

you've walked the path beneath you countless times, and one of your earliest memories of the footpaths was shared with anakin. his boyish face covered in dirt after you had convinced him to unearth a large plot of soil for a lake— in your honor of course.

he had spent hours on his assignment, promising that you'd get what you desired.

in truth, a twelve year old you desired no lake, you simply wished to see how far you could get him to go for you.

it was you who held the power then, and he was a faithful devotee— albeit to his masters' chagrin. no one was able to really understand the hold you held over him.

not even the pair of you.

the incident landed both of you in a great deal of trouble, and you were forced to spend the next morning filling said hole. little you was apt to make anakin do most of that chore himself.

not that he had complained.

after a few quiet minutes of walking, anakin stops at one of the smaller fountains in the green. one of the oldest landmarks in this garden, predating the lavish castle on its horizon. it sits surrounded by tall fruit trees, leaving the area sweetly scented and mostly hidden.

"do you remember when i pushed you into this fountain?" anakin asks, voice deviant and deep.

you ponder up at him, "yes, and i also remember how i pulled you in with me."

he hums, a light chuckle falling out of his lips, "hm, and what did i do right after?"

you think back to the day, you, fourteen, and he fifteen. your defensive action had made him so outraged at you. his teenage face had been vibrant pink and his knuckles white.

"maker, you're such a brat!" anakin's voice was riddled with annoyance as he pushed himself out of the fountain, "look at me! i'm all wet and master obi-wan is never going to let me hear the end of this."

you had simply laughed, following him out of the chilly water, "i'm not a brat, and you pushed me first! goodness anakin, you're so boring now."

he turned to glare at you, "don't say that— i am not!"

you rolled your eyes, "are too."

in one quick movement, he had your back pressed hard into one of the trees, "i'm not boring. and if you say it again i'll make you regret it, princess."

you weren't scared of him, you could never be scared of anakin, "well, skywalker, if you're not boring, why don't you prove it."

it had been a silly and childish remark, and you weren't exactly sure how you wanted him to showcase opposition to your teasing. you weren't sure if even he knew how, but his thumbs traced along the veins at your wrists. his touch had left the air around you soft and hushed.

his blue eyes met your own for a split second before he leaned down to you, flushed lips parting ever so gently. he let his hands drop from your wrists down to your hips, and you stiffened at the touch. he had never behaved in such a way before, and the contact had your heart racing.

with little time to think, you watched him erase the space between the two of you, pausing for a short instant, before closing the gap between you. your eyes had gone wide at the feeling of his lips on yours. those perfect lips, full and chapped, lamented at your own— so foreign and new to you.

there wasn't much to the exchange, very little movement on your end and your eyes had stayed open in shock the entire time. just as you thought to kiss him back— he had pulled away.

he had then wiped his lips with the back of his hand before speaking, voice higher than normal, "there. i'm not so boring." and with that, he ran away, back to the castle, and you didn't see him again until months later.

you'd never brought it up and neither had he, so his question had you reigning yourself in, eerily motionless. he had taken your first kiss and never mentioned it again, why would he bring it up now?

you can't shame him much for it, as you had replayed the memory back in your mind thousands of times. commonly going so far as to try and remember what he had tasted like, to memorize the feel of his hands on you.

your mind often wondered what your reaction would be now, you hoped you'd at least be able to kiss him back now. but anakin didn't need to know that.

with a sharp look at him, you reply, "you robbed me of my first kiss, jedi." you inflect when you mention his title, reminding him of his virtuous position.

his left hand finds a place on your waist, drawing you into him, "i've never been considered a thief before— is that really how you recall it, princess?"

you fight your fluster, refusing to cower down to whatever game he's playing at, "oh? what would you call it?"

he quirks an eyebrow, "unfinished."

your stare up at him, body turning to fully mirror his own, "excuse me?"

"incomplete, insufficient," you watch as his other hand, metal, and cool comes to a rest at your shoulder, tugging you even more so to him, "i'd hate to think that was as good as you could do, sweet princess. you couldn't even rally the courage to kiss me back."

you look at him and decide that the jedi knight before you has changed. no longer was he the boy who followed along with your every whim with silent invocation, no longer the young man who engaged in your childish games— instead, the man before you had a presence that alone could send your mind rushing into quite debauched places.

"who said i ever thought about kissing you back in the first place." your voice is barely a mutter, despite the teasing intention.

anakin gives you a smug look, head tipping to the left, "you've grown to be quite the liar, princess."

your words go pointed, "you've grown overconfident."

in truth, he hadn't. his assumptions were correct, but how could you give in to him so easily? anakin is almost entirely overpowering, but you can see the soft pink tint on his cheeks. and you know you have an equal, if not greater, effect on him.

his metal arm is stern against you, and you feel his grasp growing stronger, almost evidence of your words.

lips upturned, he speaks, "overconfidence isn't what this is, i only wish to be useful, princess. how cruel it is to have my dedication be met with apprehension."

his words inflict a firey sensation deep within you, and the atmosphere between you seems to build, fizzling around. you feel as though your sanity has become severed— evolving into an amalgamation entirely made of him.

"and how remiss would i be if i didn't let you fulfill your favor?" your voice feels shakey, but you allow your own hands to find his shoulders, digging in ever so gently and forcing him closer.

he chuckles, eyebrows darting up in surprise, "horribly remiss i'm afraid."

your lips curve, "and this favor," you pause, narrowing your eyes, "you think it should be a kiss? that seems self-seeking."

the knight looks down to your lips, mirth clouding his features, "this is purely for your benefit, princess. don't you deserve the practice?"

in the back of your mind, you could find a tactful solution to this situation. perhaps something that involves stepping farther away from the man peering down at you, but strangely, you've never wanted to be closer to him than you do now.

"as if i need it, jedi." your voice is low when you speak, and you catch anakin's adam's apple hitch up.

you feel like your body is humming as you slide your hands from his shoulders— grazing over his clavicle, up, and towards his neck. you watch his eyes widen slightly, and you can hear his little intake of breath— you got him right where you wanted.

you look up at him once more, silently looking for approval, gratitude, need— something. the blue eyes peering down at you fail to disappoint.

you let yourself stand a bit taller and pull him down to you, inching up until your lips graze his own. you feel his smile when your lips brush, and you bite your tongue before kissing him.

your kiss is deliberate and delicate, but you're fully in control.

he gives into you so easily. he waits for you to pull him closer before he follows suit, nose pressing into the side of your own. he tastes of fruit, and you let your tongue slide into his mouth, greedy for him.

he exhales at that, palming your hips and pressing himself into you ever so slightly. you let out a lewd breath at that, and anakin breaks the kiss to lean his forehead on your own.

you wait a second before looking up at him, and he stares back down at you. his lips part again, but this time you expect them to be followed by words. possibly an apology or a rejection.

he surprises you instead, by dipping down to you once more. his hands trail up from your hips, stopping just below your breasts. you groan when you feel his lips begin to leave kisses along your jaw, trailing down toward your neck.

your shared behavior is absolutely improper for both of you, but you can't seem to care while he's leaving lingering kisses upon your neck, sending goosebumps along your flesh.

your hands push upward, fingers knotting themselves in his hair. you let yourself give his locks a little tug just as he begins to suck on your skin.

you catch your breath from his raw and desperate action. your heart pounds harder, the sensation overcoming you, sending a swell of pleasure through you. he takes every signal you give him, pulling himself closer to you until you can feel the flutter of his heartbeat against your chest.

his lips graze your ear before he speaks, voice barely a whisper, "i'd say we're even now, princess."

your eyes remain closed at his words, enjoying the feeling of his breath against you, "i'm not so sure, jedi."

his hands find a home at both sides of your face, and you look up at him, "and how does my crime of stealing your first kiss continue to go unpunished?"

you're not sure of what to say for a second, shocked still by the look of conviction caught in his eyes, "i never said i wanted to punish you for it."

he moves one hand from the side of your face, tracing it back down towards your hips. he smiles at your words, and looks up at the sky before answering in a low voice," then how else should i show my appreciation?"

you take a step back, leaning against the tree for support. you can feel his gaze on you, but before he can say anything your own bravery speaks up, "appreciation?"

he lifts an eyebrow at your remark and tilts his head inquisitively in response, "yes princess, don't you want me to show you how grateful i am?"

you grin devilishly in response and answer him confidently, “i think i could come up with something."

he grins back lazily, humming a response, and moves closer, hands still firmly positioned on either side of your face. his lips meet the corner of your smile. he leaves a gentle kiss there before meeting your lips with so much passion that your body feels faint.

each trace of his lips sends electric sparks through your body as his kisses fall down your neck towards your collarbone. you shiver at the touch, as he brushes across each sensitive spot. you feel as if he's satirizing you in some way until his lips finally meet the delicate area around your shoulders— leaving soft nipping kisses that cause an uncontrollable moan to escape from you.

you feel his hands drop to your dress' skirt, bunching up the tight fabric and inching it up. when his skin makes contact with the flesh of your thighs, you let your forehead drop to his shoulder.

anakin seems to like this motion, breath hitting against your ear again, "do you want me to touch you, princess?"

you feel overwhelmed, unable to speak past the lump in your throat. you manage a slight nod before finally croaking out, "yes."

anakin's hands immediately respond, brushing up the side of your thighs until they find their way near your pulsing cunt. you feel obscene and exposed by your own need, but anakin seems to grow more confident the closer his fingers dance to you. you hear him laugh lightly as you press yourself into him, silently begging for more.

he abides by your wish, nimble fingers beginning to stroke your clothed slit. you moan at the contact, voice somewhat muffled as your head remains at his shoulder. anakin however chooses this moment to speak, tone falsely saccharine, "sweet princess, aren't you going to tell me what you want? use your words."

for a brief second, you feel impossibly hot and annoyed. you'd rather not voice your desperation for him. you'd be reckless to follow his orders so blindly.

"you're the one with your hands under my dress. what is it you're wanting, jedi?" you finally draw your head back from him, eyes catching his.

anakin lets himself grin, haphazardly letting his thumb brush your needy nub. he watches as you attempt to hide the roll of your hips, "i want you."

he doesn't continue with words, no, he slides your underwear to the side and feels your wetness against his fingers. he lets out a low groan when you grip him tighter.

your back is pressed into the tree behind you and anakin's body seems to lock you in place, not that you'd move away from him now. not when he's teasing your opening and causing your mind to go wild.

"tell me what you want," he smirks, one digit dipping ever so slightly into your heat, "and i'll obey."

you screw your eyes shut, trying to calm yourself. your voice is uneven when you respond, "touch me, please."

he doesn't neglect your demand and he lets his finger slide into you, slow. you clench around the digit, hands snaking into his hair and forehead pressing against his own.

he lets you feel him, as deep inside you as he can possibly get, before sliding out and back in again. you want to scream at the way his digit barely hits the spongey part inside of you, but instead, you let your hands grasp him harder.

he takes pleasure in your whiney noises, pushing further into you before sliding out once more. you whine at his teasing, and you catch the softest grin on his lips as he presses into you, two fingers this time.

you feel more full of him, and the notion has you reeling.

"maker, anakin." you barely hear yourself when you speak, voice so low.

he arches his fingers inside you, hitting the spot that sends your weight fully into his being, "yeah? am i doing a good job princess?"

you hum in assurance, blissful and teetering the edge. you feel drunk with how good he feels, how good he's making you feel.

"good," you moan. "so good."

you cry out his name in praise, only to be met by a lament. the rumble that answers you sounds like distant thunder colliding with sand and stone. a rolling sensation races through your body at the sound of it. your heart thuds in your chest and he watches its movements in delight.

he seems to like the way you're falling apart for him, eyes unwavering in their view of you. slowly but surely, you feel him putting pressure right where you need it until you can hardly handle it anymore. anakin thrusts his digits faster and faster, and you can't help but pull quite firmly at his curls.

his throat elicits a wanton groan at the feeling, and you feel yourself rock your hips to meet his hand. you're so close to the brink.

"do you want to come? hm, want me to make you feel good?" you can hear the strain in his voice.

"please, ani." your voice begging, warm at your own words.

his thumb finds your clit again, this time though, his touch isn't feather-light. no, instead he's cruel in the way he massages the bundle of nerves, leaving you a moaning mess beneath his body. he knows exactly how much pressure to use as he presses down on your bud repeatedly. making it impossible to form a coherent thought inside your head.

instead, all you can focus on is the thumb on your clit and the two digits in your core—driving into you relentlessly and the other pressing into you until your eyes shine white, you can feel yourself blanking.

his digits continue to pump in and out of you, humming his approval at your vulgar display— your eyes are heavy, legs unsteady, and lip slightly raw from biting it.

"i'm so close, anakin." you pant, fingers stiffening in his hair.

he whines, "yeah? let go, princess, i've got you."

and with one final plunge of his digits in and out of your warmth you feel a rather sudden wave overcoming your body, jolting everything inside and outside too. the sensation is a pure high, and you claw at anakin's shoulders until the feeling begins to subside. the night air suddenly feels so chilly, but you nuzzle closer into anakin. with you face hidden, you allow yourself a satisfied smile upon your, as well as anakin's, lips.

anakin grins down at you and kisses the top of your head in adulation before slowly removing his hands from you. you feel him trail his fingertips up your spine before speaking in a raspy tone, "how was that, princess?"

your body feels as if it could quaver at the sight of this man before you— a strong and assertive jedi warrior— so taken with you, eyes brimming down with a mixture of pride and adoration.

he pushes himself back slightly, still hovering above you, and looks down into your eyes with an unmistakable warmth in his gaze. you'e sure no one had ever looked at you like that before—like they wanted to consume every fiber of your being, of your soul.

anakin's eyes search yours for a moment before he presses his lips gently against yours in a temperate kiss.

as he moves away again, this time, drawing away enough to extend his arm above your head, fingers now clutching the tree's trunk.

you both remain still there for some time, taking comfort in each other's presence, until finally, anakin speaks softly again,"i thank the force to have met you, to know you. i've missed you, princess." his voice sounds brazen yet gentle.

his free hand lifts, raising your chin up to look into his eyes once more.

you hum, "you've grown better with apologies."

anakin huffs, lips upturned, "maybe, or perhaps solely for my benefit regarding you."

you roll your eyes, "is that what this was? some self-aggrandizing ruse?"

he smirks, eyes widening in faux horror, "never, princess. i only mean to say that i seem to behave best in your company. you wield a tight reign."

you can't help but smile at the compliment, unabashed. "i have no hold over you, jedi."

anakin's lips quirk into a fiendish grin as he reaches up to gently brush his thumb along your chin, "of course you do, princess," he murmurs softly. "of course you do."

#anakin x reader #anakin smut #anakin skywalker smut #star wars anakin #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin x reader smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin fluff #anakin skywalker x reader fluff #anakin x you #darth vader #vader x reader

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littlesparklight · 12 days ago

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Got the (foolish lol) idea to go through some of the works I know give physical descriptions of at least some Trojan war characters and collate them. They aren't in alphabetic order, sorry, but the works/authors are colour coded, at least!

I'll do this in two parts; this one for Achaean characters, the next one for Trojans. Watch Philostratus fanboy over Palamedes and Protesilaos (why????) and marvel, when compared to basically everyone else's description, across all works!

Helen The Iliad: 'terribly does she seem like the immortal goddesses to look on' (spoken of her, not narration), divine/shining/noble among women In Hesiod and other works she is given the xanthos = blond/auburn/etc epithet Dares: Helen resembled Castor and Pollux. She was beautiful, ingenuous, and charming. Her legs were the best; her mouth the cutest. There was a beauty-mark between her eyebrows. (Castor and Pollux: they were twins, blond haired, large eyed, fair complexioned, and wellbuilt with trim bodies.) Malalas, Chronographia: full-grown, well-dressed, with fine breasts, white as snow, with beautiful eyebrows, a beautiful nose, shapely, curly-haired, blonde-ish, with big eyes, charming, with a beautiful voice, a formidable sight among women. She was 26 years old. Tzetzes, Antehomerica: white, with soft skin and beautiful eyebrows and nose. Her skin was so white and bright as if it was made of snow. She had lovely breasts and a pretty face; she had languishing and large eyes and a melodious charming voice; she had long, curly, blond hair; she was well-behaved and perfect in everything she did; she was a lot more beautiful than all the other women, just like the moon is brighter than all the stars in the sky. At that time she was twenty six years old.

Agamemnon The Iliad: '[…] tell me the name of this gigantic man. […] To be sure there are other men even greater in height, […] handsome, nor so majestic, for he seems a kingly man.' Dares: blond, large, and powerful. He was eloquent, wise, and noble, a man richly endowed. Philostratus, Heroicus: Agamemnon and Menelaos were alike neither in appearance nor strength. […] He looked majestic and magnificent and like the sort of person who offered sacrifice to the Graces. Tzetzes, Posthomerica: white, big, of a wide chin and dark hair. He was well-bearded, well-educated, resembling the blessed ones.

Menelaos The Iliad: xanthos = blond/auburn/bright, 'standing towered with his broad shoulders. Dares: moderate stature, auburn-haired, and handsome. He had a pleasing personality. Philostratus, Heroicus: Agamemnon and Menelaos were alike neither in appearance nor strength. […] [he] wore his hair boyishly long, as was the Spartan custom, and the Achaeans made allowance for him when he was visiting, since they did not mock those who came from Euboea even though their hair was ridiculously long. He says he conversed most easily and very concisely, mixing pleasant speech with his discourse. Tzetzes, Posthomerica: the bodily frame smaller [than Agamemnon]; he had a breadth, though. He had a red skin, dense beard and blond hair.

Odysseus The Iliad: 'lesser in height than Agamemnon […], but he seems broader in the shoulders and chest.' (Also shorter than Menelaos.) Dares: tough, crafty, cheerful, of medium height, eloquent, and wise. Philostratus, Heroicus: extremely skilled in public speaking and clever, but he was a dissembler, a lover of envy, and praised malice. His eyes were always downcast, and he was the sort of person who engages in self-examination. He appeared more noble than he was in military matters; surely he was not well versed in preparing for war, in commanding naval battles and sieges, or in drawing of spear and bows. Tzetzes, Posthomerica: middle-aged, pot-bellied, white, with plain hair, nose looking down and fiercely glaring.

Achilles Dares: a large chest, a fine mouth, and powerfully formed arms and legs. His head was covered with long wavy chestnut-colored hair. Though mild in manner, he was very fierce in battle. His face showed the joy of a man richly endowed. Philostratus, Heroicus: For Achilles' physique appeared startling and divine […] When he became an ephebe, a brightness radiated from his face, and his body was beyond natural size, since he grew more easily than do trees near springs. […] hair is thick, lovelier than gold, and becoming no matter where and how either the wind or he himself may move it. His nose is not quite aquiline, but almost so; his brow is crescent-shaped. The spirit in his eyes, which are bluish-gray, casts off a certain eagerness even when he is still; when he is rushing on, they spring out along with his purpose, and then he seems more lovely than ever to those who cherish him. (long hair until Patroklos dies) Tzetzes, Posthomerica: tall, of a beautiful chest, graceful in everything, white, of blond curly and thick hair. He had a big nose, melodious voice and the eyes of a woman. His glance was terrible, in a race was swift-footed; he had long legs and scanty beard.

Patroklos Dares: handsome and powerfully built. His yes were gray. He was modest, dependable, wise, a man richly endowed. Philostratus, Heroicus: Patroklos, although he was not much older than Achilles, was a divine and sensible man, […] In size and bravery he was between the two Ajaxes. He fell short of the son of Telamon in all things, but he surpassed both the size and bravery of the son of Locris. Patroklos had an olive complexion, black eyes, and sufficiently fine eyebrows, and he commended moderately long hair. His head stood upon his neck as the wrestling schools cultivate. His nose was straight, and he flared his nostrils as eager horses do. Tzetzes, Posthomerica: middle-aged, potbellied and well-bearded. He had blond hair, red skin and lovely face.

Ajax, the son of Telamon The Iliad: 'outstanding among the Argives in height and broad shoulders' ; repeatedly called only second to Achilles in everything but looks. Dares: powerful. His voice was clear, his hair black and curly. He was perfectly single-minded and unrelenting in the onslaught of battle. Tzetzes, Posthomerica: brave, great, quick, with a nice nose and curly hair; He had a dark skin; he was well-bearded and grim-looking. He was more beautiful than everybody, except for Achilles.

Ajax, the son of Oileus The Iliad: lesser [than Ajax the great] by far, for he was a small man […] Dares: stocky, powerfully built, swarthy, a pleasant person, and brave. Philostratus, Heroicus: appeared less intelligent [than Diomedes and Sthenelus] […] looking fierce, and throwing his long hair back Malalas, Chronographia: tall, strong, tawny, squinting, good nose, curly hair, black hair, thick beard, long face, daring warrior, magnanimous, a womanizer. Tzetzes, Posthomerica: tall and had bright eyes. He was nice, had long face and dark curly hair.

Diomedes Dares: stocky, brave, dignified, and austere. No one was fiercer in battle. He was loud at the war-cry, hot-tempered, impatient, and daring. Philostratus, Heroicus: steadfast and having eyes that are blue-gray and not black at all and a straight nose; his hair was woolly and dirty. […] modest upon rebuke, checked the eruption of his anger, and refused to insult the troops or to be disheartened. He himself considered it appropriate for an army to appear unwashed, and he commended sleeping in any opportune place; his provisions consisted of what was available, and he did not take pleasure in wine unless troubles came upon him. Diomedes and Sthenelos were the same age. Tzetzes, Posthomerica: [he had a] body that was worth of four young men. He was in good shape with a flat nose, narrow neck and blond hair.

Sthenelos Philostratus, Heroicus: a good size and towering, gray-eyed, with an aquiline nose, fairly long-haired, ruddy, and hot-blooded. […] lacked Diomedes' insight, his power of speech, and his patient endurance which belong to both soul and body. He gave way to anger, was contemptuous of the throng of battle, was savage upon being rebuked, and was prepared for a more delicate lifestyle than was needed for a military camp.

Nestor Dares: large, broad and fair. His nose was long and hooked. He was a wise adviser. Philostratus, Heroicus: (statue, but also the real man?) with a beard that is majestic and well-proportioned; his ears display what he went through at wrestling school, and his neck is restored to its strength. In truth, Nestor stands upright, not defeated by old age, with black eyes and without a drooping nose. Tzetzes, Posthomerica: big, had a nose looking downwards and a fiercely glaring. He had a long face, flame-coloured skin, blond hair and he was wise.

Antilochos The Iliad: Younger than the rest. Philostratus, Heroicus: Because Antilokhos was still young and not mature enough for war when they assembled at Aulis, his father did not agree to his wish to serve as a soldier. (he arrives in the fifth year.) For Achilles' physique appeared startling and divine, but that of Antilokhos seemed to all to be pleasant and gentle. […] Antilokhos resembled Nestor, but that he was swifter, trim in physique, and paid no attention to his hair. He gave me the following details about Antilokhos: He was most fond of horses and hunting with dogs. Tzetzes, Posthomerica: younger than the other Achaeans. Almost a boy, he was white, with a beautiful neck and a big nose. He was storm-footed, provoked fear with his eyes and a beard just sprouting. He was blond with beautiful hair and grey eyes.

Neoptolemus Dares: large, robust, and easily irritated. He lisped slightly, and was good-looking, with hooked nose, round eyes, and shaggy eyebrows. Philostratus, Heroicus: he was good-looking and resembled his father, but was inferior to him in the same way that beautiful people are inferior to their statues. Malalas, Chronographia: of good stature, good chest, thin, white, good nose, ruddy hair, wooly hair, light-eyed, big-eyed, blond eyebrows, blond beginnings of a beard, round-faced, precipitate, daring, agile, a fierce fighter. Tzetzes, Posthomerica: red hair, that's why many had called him Pyrrhus. He was of young age, white or somewhat grey, the colour of the milk; He had beautiful nose and chest, hair curly and was daring; He hadn't ever been hurt, embittered, reckless and of a too wild temper; Thin tiny hair was growing from his beard.

Palamedes Dares: tall and slender, wise, magnanimous, and charming. Philostratus, Herocius: So then in height he was the same as the greater Ajax; in beauty, Protesilaos says, he vied with Achilles, Antilokhos, Protesilaos himself, and with the Trojan Euphorbus. His soft beard was springing up and with the promise of curls; his hair was cut close to his skin; his eyebrows were noble, straight, and came together above the nose, which was perfect as a square and stately. The resolve of his eyes appeared unshaken and fierce in battles, but when he was at rest their gaze was full of comradely affection and affable; he also is said to have possessed the most marvelous eyes among mortals. And in truth, Protesilaos also says that when he was naked, Palamedes weighed halfway between an athlete and a lithe person, and that he had a toughness about his face that was much more pleasant than the golden locks of Euphorbus. Tzetzes, Antehomerica: He was tall, white, with his hair blond and filthy; he was slim and had a long face; he was a servant of wisdom and of Ares. His hair was blond and visibly dirty, because he didn't trouble himself with stupidities like his hair.

Podalirius Dares: sturdy, strong, haughty, and moody.

Nireus The Iliad: the most beautiful man to come beneath Ilion of all the Danaans, after blameless Achilles. Iphigenia in Aulis: repeats the 'most beautiful after Achilles' description.

Machaon Dares: large and brave, dependable, prudent, patient, and merciful.

Idomeneus The Iliad: Older than most of the rest, gray-haired. Malalas, Chronographia: above average height, dark-skinned, good eyes, well set, strong, good nose, thick beard, good head, curly hair, a berserker when fighting. Tzetzes, Posthomerica: quick, had a dark skin, of middle age. He had a short curly hair, wide chin and beautiful nose.

Meriones Dares: auburn-haired, of moderate height, with a well-proportioned body. He was robust, swift, unmerciful, and easily angered. Malalas, Chronographia: shortish, wide, white, good beard, big eyes, black hair, curly hair, flat face, bent nose, quick-moving, magnanimous, a warrior. Tzetzes, Posthomerica: short; he had wide shoulders and beautiful curly hair. He was white; he had crooked nose, nice chin, wide face.

Philoctetes Philostratus, Heroicus: his hair was gray because of age (he was about sixty years old), he was more vigorous than many of the young men, his gaze was most fearsome among mortals, his words most brief Malalas, Chronographia: a good height, well set, dark skinned, eyebrows meeting, brave, good eyes, good nose, black hair, hairy, sensible, accurate archer, magnanimous. Tzetzes, Posthomerica: tall, beautiful, of dark skin and with meeting eyebrows

Protesilaos Dares: fair-skinned, and dignified. He was swift, self-confident, even rash. Philostratus, Heroicus: He is about twenty years old at most. Because he sailed to Troy at such a young age, he has a full, splendid beard and smells sweeter than autumn myrtles. Cheerful eyebrows frame his eyes, which gives him a pleasant, friendly manner. When he exerts himself, he looks intense and determined. But if we meet him at ease, ah, how lovely and friendly his eyes appear! He has blond hair of moderate length. It hangs a little over his forehead rather than covering it. The shape of his nose is perfect, like the statue's. His voice is more sonorous than trumpets and comes from a small mouth. It is most enjoyable to meet him naked, since he is well built and nimble, just like the herms set up in race courses. His height is easily ten cubits, and it seems to me that he would have exceeded this had he not died in his early twenties. Tzetzes, Antehomerica: a lovely face and courage in his eyes; his hair was blond and long; his skin was smooth and dark; he was bold, graceful, with beautiful body and beard; he was vigorous, although much younger than Antilochus.

Calchas Malalas, Chronographia: short, white, all grey, including the beard, hairy, a very fine seer and omen-reader. Tzetzes, Posthomerica: small, white, thin and shaggy-haired. He had his hair grey in the front and white the rest of it.

#greek mythology #the iliad #trojan war #helen of troy #helen of sparta #menelaus #agamemnon #achilles #patroclus #diomedes #sthenelus #ajax the greater #ajax the lesser #nestor #antilochus

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yanderes-galore · 3 months ago

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Yandere Anakin who’s fallen for a senator reader , the only problem is that she’s in an arranged marriage to someone else !! 😲 love to hear your thoughts and I hope your doing ok

Oh boy, this is going to be so problematic.... GIF may be Clone Wars, but this is just in general. Him and Padmé aren't together in this concept.

Yandere! Anakin Skywalker with Senator! Darling

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Stalking, Possessive behavior, Manipulation, Assassination, Anakin screws up politics/probably starts a war because he loves you too much, Dubious relationship.

You first met Anakin when he was assigned as your personal protector by the Jedi Council.

Naturally, as a Senator, you'd need protection from potential assassinations.

Any government has its corruption, so you'd need some sort of extra protection.

Especially due to your arranged marriage to create good political ties between two planets.

You're a human Senator that was selected to marry another for the sake of keeping up peace.

Not everyone is on board with such a marriage, and due to your influence in the Senate, people naturally want you dead.

Which leads to Anakin being sent to guard you.

At first, Anakin may not care about your arranged marriage.

But the longer he's around you... He feels increasingly envious.

It takes time, your arranged marriage doesn't actually occur until months after you have Anakin as your personal guard.

Relationships and personal connections are banned within the Jedi Order.

So, Anakin having feelings for you is immediately wrong.

Not only that, but you're set to marry someone else.

Which is even more wrong.

Safe to say, you are someone Anakin can't have.

Or... shouldn't have... even if he wants that.

By this point, Anakin is still mostly devoted to the Jedi Order.

He knows while his feelings are normal... He can't act on them.

He's a guard, staying beside you to prevent assassination attempts or Sith attacks.

Despite this... You two share conversation often.

How could you not? Your guard is with you all the time.

You often chat while you read in the libraries or do your usual tasks.

Both of you are bound by duty, might as well make the most of it.

Naturally the conversation is about duty... which leads into your arranged marriage.

Anakin can't help but bring it up.

He's drawn to the conversation topic, often asking if you're happy about it and if you're nervous.

You humor him by answering questions, not expecting much from it.

Not like he as a Jedi can do anything about it except protect you.

Your responses are often off-handed as you're invested in some book or meeting material.

There's a couple times you meet your betrothed, usually for political matters.

He's a decent man, most likely a human like you to be able to produce children.

Each meeting you have with your betrothed makes Anakin seethe.

The Jedi can't believe he's glaring at your fiancé with so much hate.

He shouldn't have such feelings of envy.

However... Anakin has always been an individual controlled by emotion.

Why else do you think he becomes a Sith?

He feels your marriage is forced, regardless of if you like the guy or not.

He wants you safe and happy.

Something Anakin feels he could do for you.

Anakin wishes you two could both run away from your responsibilities.

Unfortunately, you're very attentive to your duty as a Senator.

Even if Anakin admitted how he feels, you'd turn him down.

He's your guard, that is all...

He hates it.

Like the Sith, this whole situation fills him with hate.

Anakin would most likely try to manipulate you into giving in and running from him.

Yet, if you're not interested in him, then he might have to resort to other means.

I can't tell if this is too OOC or not, but imagine if an assassination was planned against your betrothed.

Anakin knows he should probably tell someone or prevent it (if he himself didn't orchestrate it)... but what if he's selfish enough to not?

What if Anakin allows the assassination of your betrothed to occur?

He'd never let an assassin near you.

But your betrothed? He could care less.

You may be devastated, yet Anakin stays stoic.

He pretends he isn't elated that your betrothed is dead.

Instead, he says it isn't safe anymore... you need to go into hiding.

Yes, Anakin could care less about the political issues any of this causes.

It's even worse if Anakin somehow helped in it and now two sides blame one another.

Insert possible war here.

All Anakin cares about is taking advantage of the situation.

It's selfish, it's so damn selfish, but for now he has you all to himself?

While you're in hiding... He just has to convince you to love him....

Surely you'll fall for him since he's protecting you?

He's careful with it, trying to be subtle and make you fall for him on your own.

He's desperate....

If you're concerned about him in the Order... things can be secret!

That... or maybe he'll just leave?

I would say this feels OOC... but considering what Anakin does in the future... It's not too far-fetched?

Overall, Anakin would try to suffocate his feelings due to the duty of both of you.

Yet the moment he gets the chance to act on them, murder or not...?

He'll take that chance in a heartbeat.

#yandere star wars #yandere anakin skywalker #yandere star wars x reader #yandere anakin

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euosin · 4 months ago

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𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄 - patrick zweig.

patrick zweig x f!reader

summary: after a break through you and your bestfriends friendship, patrick comes to visit stanford in hopes that you can fill in tashi’s shoes.

warnings: p in v, unprotected sex, slight degrading, reader being jealous of tashi, cursing, the years and locations might be wrong, tennis terms and games also might be incorrect (I'm just a girl) pretend like tashi never tore her acl in this, several time skips, cheating sort of???

a/n: free patrick zweig 2024

𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐑𝐊, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟔.

When standing next to your best friend, Tashi Duncan, you seem to be almost invisible around guys. You only realized this when she suddenly had two guys pawning for her attention at her party. You recall the way they walked up to her, grinning ear to ear with ironed shirts and strong colognes that could easily be clocked from a mile away. Before they could get their names out, Tashi quickly spoke for them. “I know who you are. You're fire and ice, right?” Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson were their names. You watched their junior doubles match at the US Open earlier this year. To your surprise, Patrick led their win with a clean tweener. Impressive. “Which ones which?” Tashi asks between sips of her drink.

You sulk into the chair next to her, gripping the chilled glass in your hands as you discreetly roll your eyes when you realize that they aren't paying any attention to you. “What do you think?” Patrick asks with a smirk. Tashi pauses, giving him a slight glare before turning over to Art. “You were fucking incredible.” The blonde boy says. “It wasn't even like tennis, it was an entirely different game.” You take notice that Art had won over her curiosity better than Patrick did. Patrick mentioned something about him going pro, which caught your attention for a split second before Art quickly moved on to another topic. You scoffed quietly to yourself, locking eyes with Patrick before sliding past his shoulder to occupy yourself with something else.

Later that night you tried to talk to catch up to her but only found that she had suddenly disappeared from the party. You texted her several times, asking for her whereabouts. She replied the next morning, apologizing for her leaving you to fend for yourself last night. “I’ll tell you all about it later.” her message reads. That afternoon, Tashi met with you for lunch, going on about how Art and Patrick were practically on their hands and knees for her, evening going as far as to invite her to their hotel room. Of course, you listened to her with wide eyes and a small gasp every time she described her story. Playing for her number? Really? And a close call in a threesome? You tried to act unbothered but couldn't help but feel aggravated.

As the season went on, Tashi’s sudden absence from your life became apparent. You were only updated on her life now and then through mutual friends. But, you got closer to Patrick coming up to the time of his final. He practiced frequently at the same court you went to. At first, the two of you would share knowing glances, then it became small talk in between switches, then casual hangouts in the city. You even felt a small crush developing but held yourself back due to Tashi, but it wouldn't hurt to admire him now and then.

Secretly, you envied Tashi Duncan, from her unbelievable tennis skills to her effortlessly gorgeous appearance. She had an aura that attracted everyone to her. Maybe that's why your friendship was cut short before your first week at Stanford, your jealousy clouded your vision. Either way, she would've been “too” busy to stay friends with you. Although you were still friends with her at the time of Patrick’s and Art’s final, the final that would determine who Tashi would go out with. Patrick won, of course, bowing down to Tashi on the court before looking over at the defeated Art Donaldson with a shit eating grin plastered on his face.

You went back to your house later that night, groaning in your hands at the image of Patrick flashing an arrogant smile up to the stands, the confident stride that remained consistent in his walk as he stepped off the court. Art was attractive as well, but he was already all over Tashi, and his daring counterpart just had something else to him that drove you insane. Tashi had disappeared from your life and Patrick was next in line.

You were then informed a few weeks later by another mutual friend that he and Tashi were now dating, “happily”, they added.

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐃, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟕.

You noticed Tashi around campus, occasionally close to Art. You were surprised to find out that she and Patrick were still together. Donaldson was snug around her, always. Did Patrick know about his best friend probing his way into their relationship? Back in your dorm, you roamed the web for a while before pausing at a sports article with a familiar name in the headline.

“PATRICK ZWEIG — Dominating the Courts in 2007”

His face is under the bold text, beaming proudly at the camera with his tennis racket swung over his shoulders. He looked good. He’s always looked good, but he looked older with his lightly gelled curls. He didn't look like a boy anymore, he looked like a man. You took your time reading through the article in awe with wide eyes. You pondered for a moment on how Tashi and Patrick dealt with long distance. He was away for so long at so many games, but—at least he was winning.

For the next hour or so you found yourself scrolling through press photos of Patrick at different games or just casual photos that were taken of him off the court. Unfortunately, your roommate had walked in with a “Ooh, who’s that?” causing you to close your laptop for the night.

𝟓 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊𝐒 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑

Maybe college was really getting to you because your skills on the court weren’t as polished as they used to be. Or maybe you were too distracted thinking about Tashi’s last match the week before. You were shocked at how quick she had gotten, slamming her poor opponent down with ease. She was getting better and better, while you were getting worse and worse. You didn't care for tennis as much as you used to in high school anymore. You despised it. You only kept up with it because your parents had spent too much money on the sport for you to suddenly drop everything, it was also because of Tashi, hoping one day you could beat her in a match. An unrealistic view, but it egged you on. You were practicing with your roommate, missing her ball when a familiar face stepped into your peripheral vision. He paused in unison with you, also acknowledging you. Patrick looked like he was in a rush to leave, walking rather quickly before doing a double take through the holes in the fence.

“Are you serious?” your roommate calls out from across the court. You ignore her, placing your racket down on the bench before running over to Patrick.

He's smirking subtly at your choice in clothing. “Pat, oh my God, hi,” you say through deep exhales. He was wearing blue jeans and a fitted white t-shirt that showed each curve of his muscles perfectly. You swear you would've moaned in his face at his appearance if it weren't for you holding back your noises. “Hey, it's been—forever, shit. You look fucking great.” he says as he takes in your different look. It’s only been a year or so since you've last seen each other, but you did change drastically. “Do I? I could say the same thing about you.” You reply innocently. Patrick bites on his bottom lip before eyeing you up and down. “You seem a little stiff out there.” He says as he points over to the court.

You groan in embarrassment, realizing he definitely saw your fucked up backhand and sloppy crossover steps. “I might have to learn a few tips from you.” you lean closer to the gate, taking in the scent of his cologne. He chuckles, “Uh huh, you need me to coach you or something?” he asks with a nod of his head. You stay quiet, watching as his eyes wander down to your short tennis skirt, then back up to your slightly scandalous tank top. “I might have to take you up on that offer,” you reply with a giggle. “What are you doing at Stanford?” Patrick tenses, running a hand past his dark curls. “I was visiting Tashi,” he says in a monotone voice, almost disappointed even.

You raise a suspicious brow, scanning his face for some sort of clue. He seems to catch on, shaking his head slightly. “We got into an argument, it's nothing.” you light up at his reply, suppressing the grin pulling on your lips. “Aw,” you say. “Well, you can always talk to me, Patrick.” the way you say his name is almost a whisper, soft and sultry. He visibly notices what you're doing, smirking at your bold actions. “I will,” he says before turning and walking off.

Eventually, the sky darkened as the day went on and you hadn't spotted Patrick since your last interaction a few hours ago. You were stuck on the court for the whole day, forcing yourself to practice, enduring the heat and your aching arms. You had gotten a few bruises on your legs from missing the balls. Your roommate got tired from your sore game so she left early, saying she’ll meet you back at the dorms in a bit. You frown as you play back every moment you fucked up a stroke in your head. As you're walking back over to the bench to pack up your stuff, the gate swings open. You glance up, eyes widening slightly at Patrick standing across the court.

He smiles, walking over before unzipping his tennis bag, and grabbing a racket and a ball. You laugh, “What?” you ask. “I thought you wanted me to coach you,” he shouts. You tap your foot against the asphalt, arms crossed under your chest as you look around the empty court. Patrick was a pro tennis player, you were like an amateur compared to him. “In jeans?” you shout back, pointing at his pants. He waves you off, “I’m alright.” his voice booms with arrogance and confidence, but—you couldn't blame him. With a body like that and a face like that, you too would be an arrogant dick.

“Fine, one game.” You were prepared to be humiliated. Patrick shrugs, still smirking as he gets into position to serve the ball. You stretch your legs, staying on your toes as he hits it with a loud grunt. You run after it, hitting it back with a rough forehand. Patrick returns it with a transition step then a backhand lob. The game seems to go on for hours and hours, but unfortunately, you lose against Patrick’s clean slice. “Fuck!” you shout as you pat off the sweat on your forehead. Patrick claps from across the court. “You don't need any practice at all,” he says. “maybe a little work on that topspin though.”

“Oh, shut up.” you groan as you chuck the tennis ball at him. He catches it with a single hand before it can hit him, bouncing it one last time before putting it inside his bag. You're quick to pack your stuff, running up next to him. “Where are you gonna stay tonight?” you ask as you walk together. “Mm, I've got a hotel.” you cock your head to the side. “You got a game here?”

Patrick nods, “You should come, watch me absolutely demolish Lester Svensson.” you shrug, “Lester Svensson? Fuck, I’ll send my prayers in the crowd.” He looks over at you, lips pressed together. “I don't need it,” he replies sternly. You roll your eyes, almost forgetting how stubborn he was. You stop abruptly in your tracks when you realize you've passed your dorm. Stepping back, you point at the door. “Sorry, this is me.” Patrick pauses, looking at you then past your shoulder at your room. “Is your roommate here?” he questions. You jiggle the handle. Locked. “Nope,” you reply as you fish out your keys from your bag.

“Can I come in?”

Your door opens with a click. You stiffen, looking around before nodding. You nudge open the door, watching closely as Patrick sets his bag down on the desk chair before sitting down on the edge of your bed. You shiver slightly, switching on your string lights as you join him. He looks around, examining every element of the side of your room. “Huh,” he mutters as he picks off a picture of you and Tashi smiling together on your bulletin board, arms linked—seemingly to be at a local tennis match from your sophomore year in high school. You clear your throat, quickly grabbing it out of his hands and tossing it to the side. “Forgot to take that down.”

Patrick squints. “I guess you're not cool with her either,” he says jokingly. You nod, leaning back on your palms. The two of you bask in each other's silence and quiet breathing before Patrick scoots closer to you, his hand slithering around you and over your hand. He holds it, softly nudging his nose into your shoulder. You instinctively roll your head back, giving him easy access to your neck. He presses open mouth kisses against your damp skin, licking at your sweat. You whimper, raising a hand around up to his wet hair. You tug on his curls, his blue eyes low and dark with lust. You kiss him, letting his tongue explore your mouth as his hand trails up your torso to your tits.

“Teasing me in your tight little tennis clothes all day, huh?” he groans, you giggle, quickly taking off your tank top. “Not on purpose,” you say through labored breathing. Patrick smirks against your lips, bucking his hips against your clothed pussy as you straddle his lap. You grip the hem of his shirt, assisting him with taking it off. Your eyes trail down from his toned abs to his happy trail. Brows furrowing together as he turns over, flipping you onto your back against the mattress. He’s on top of you, hungrily kissing every inch of your skin. Patrick lifts your sports bra over your head, revealing your breasts to him. He moans at the sight, trailing kisses down the valley between your tits as your hands scramble to unbutton his jeans. He pulls them off, leaving him with a painfully obvious tent in his boxers. Patrick’s large hands settle on your waist as you shimmy off your skirt, kicking it away on the floor.

“Fuck, I need this so bad, baby.” he whines, fingers dancing along the waistband of your panties. He pulls your underwear off, tossing your legs above his broad shoulders as he presses a wet kiss to you to your clit. Patrick looks up at you with glossy eyes before he licks at your slit, still holding eye contact. Your stomach tenses at the sensation, fingers gripping around the soft duvet on your bed.

He pulls away from your cunt, a string of his saliva connecting him to you. His fingers go to spread your folds, you moan when you feel his thumb graze over your clit. Patrick seemed to know everything about your body. He laps his tongue over your wet slit several times, pulling back with low eyes before sliding two fingers inside of your tight walls. You spasm around his fingers, arching your back as he starts eating you out while massaging your insides. There's a small smirk dancing on his lips as he sucks on your clit, swirling his large tongue around the sensitive bud. You moan and whimper loudly, quickly placing a hand over your mouth to soften your noises. You watch with glossy eyes as he continues eating you out like a starved man.

It was all too much, he was so good. Too good. His other hand grazes past your stomach, fingers pinching your hard nipples. “Pat, oh fuck—mhm!” he hums against you, slurping at your juices. His thumb continues to rub deep circles on your clit, drawing more moans from your lips. He’s sloppy, burying his face deep between your legs, drooling all over your little pussy, and groping at your thighs. He clings onto your figure underneath him, suffocating himself with your legs and your pretty cunt. Before you could reach your climax, Patrick pulls away, scoffing at the way you whined from the absence of his tongue.

“What are y—”

“Shh, be a good girl for me, okay?”

Patrick pulls boxers off, his heavy dick slapping your leg. You gasped at his size, he was above average with an insane girth, a bulging pink tip leaking with precum staring at you. You feel ashamed under his lust driven gaze. You feel desperate and needy. Patrick will hang this moment over your head forever, you could tell. The way he was practically eye fucking you with that cruel smirk on his face. “I need you, please.” you cry out as you hold your tits in your hands. “Yeah? How bad do you need me?” He taunts in your ear, his wet tip rubbing against your folds. Your pussy throbs and tightens around nothing, yearning for his dick. “Tell me. Use your fucking words.” he spits out as he continues edging you with his tip.

Your breath hitches every time you feel him at your entrance, tears pricking down your soft cheeks. “If you need me so bad, use your words like the little slut you are.” Patrick grabs your jaw, kissing you roughly as your hands round up his neck to his curls. “I need you so bad, please fuck me, please, please,” you beg with puppy dog eyes, your lips pouting with anticipation. He smiles widely at your pathetic pleads, “That’s it,” he whispers before stretching you out on his thick cock. You pull his body close to you, skin to skin as you wrap your legs around his hips. His low laugh vibrates against your skin, hands gripping your flesh. Before you could even adjust to his size, Patrick’s quick to slam inside of you, splitting you open with his dick.

He keeps his pace frantic and rough, pounding into your cunt like a whore. You whimper and moan as his hips roll against your sensitive clit, running electric currents through your body. He thrusts into you with force, by now you are sure your appearance is rough with your hair splayed out against the pillow, wet eyes, and red bitten lips. “Right there, oh, yes, yes,” you chant through cries, letting him fuck you into oblivion. There's a rush of adrenaline running through you, also the slight fear of your roommate walking into you getting slutted out by the Patrick Zweig. “Shit, you're so tight, so good for me,” the backboard of your bed slams against the wall repeatedly, echoing throughout your tiny dorm.

“M’gonna cum in this tight little pussy, yeah?” he murmurs in your neck before looking up at you. You nod eagerly, arching your back into his stomach as his tip reaches to your sweet spot inside your gummy walls, your clit being bullied by his touch over and over. You feel limp against his strong body, tired and weak from his constant pace. You help him get off by grinding your hips against his in unison, forcing loud moans from the both of you. “Look at you, so needy and desperate.” He’s mocking you with each deliberate and fierce buck of his hips. One of his arms are over your head, hands gripping on the wood as his other hand is fondling your plump breasts.

You use all of your strength to lift your head up, watching as his cock slide in and out of you with a lewd squelch, your eyes rolling back with an open mouth. Before you knew it, his dick twitches inside of you, spiking himself inside your warm hole. He rolls his hips against your clit one last time, drawing your orgasm from your core with a loud moan. Your head drops back into your pillow with a soft thump, his lips finding their way to your collarbone. He curses against your skin before chuckling.

You swallow the lump in your throat, breathing in and out sporadically. “Tashi’s gonna break up with you,” you say as he lets his dick slide out of you, his cum dripping out of your pulsing cunt. “I don't mind.” he replies with a kiss on your jawline.

#patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig #challengers #challengers x reader #josh o’connor #patrick zweig smut

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ladykailitha · 2 months ago

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The Hellfire Exotic Club Part 2

Hey, guys! This story is going to be a lot of fun, so buckle in we are in for a ride.

Just a little thing about this chapter that will only make sense in context. But Eddie did NOT start stripping until the previous owner retired. I tried to make that clear, but I'm not sure I did. Again, Eddie danced burlesque but did not strip until he took over as owner of the night club. Got it? Thank you!

Part 1

They didn’t have time to build up the Steve turning from the angel Samael to the demon Satan not with him having only three days to learn the dance, so his first appearance on stage was that as the envious Satan.

Steve was wearing a red corset and boy shorts with matching high-heeled pumps and black fishnet stockings.

He started the set that would be his one hour in the spotlight leaning over a stool and then as the spotlight hit his head snapped up, glaring at the audience.

The way his body slunk and shimmied across the stage so different to the bruising stomp of Asmodeus. If Asmodeus was the harsh envy of wanting whatever one else had because he thought he deserved it, then Satan was soft simpering envy of a man who had been denied everything and still wanted, still yearned.

By the time Steve had finished his set that first night, even though he didn’t remove a single article of clothing, the money that was thrown at him was as much as Asmodeus in his heyday. On his first night.

The other dancers had been gathering the thrown money all night and Steve picked up the rest from his finale. They brought it all to Eddie to be counted. Same with the tip jar at the bar. The money for the dancers was a much bigger pile than the one at the bar, but the tip jar wasn’t slouching either.

Eddie carefully doled out the bartenders and waiters tips first. Robin’s eyes going wide as she held few hundred dollars in her hands.

“I didn’t think Sundays would be very popular,” she breathed, carefully dividing it and putting it in separate places so if her purse got stolen she didn’t lose all of it.

Eddie cackled as he counted out the money for the backup dancers first. They got the same amount every night as did the other Sins on their non-starring days while the club and the main dancer got a cut, except Saturday nights when Eddie danced then the dancer’s cut would be divided six ways among the other Sins.

“I think it was people coming in and expecting the new dancer to fall on his face,” Eddie said, handing out the money to his other dancers. “And then were blown away when Stevie here simpered and slunk his way into their hearts and more importantly their pocket books.”

He took his cut and then handed the rest to Steve.

“So it might not be this big next week?” Steve asked, chewing on his lip.

Eddie laughed. “Oh, honey, you have nothing to worry about,” he said, standing up to put an arm around Steve’s shoulders. “Give them a chance to watch you dance all this week and especially with the fallen angel dance you and Lilith will do on Saturday. Once they’ve seen that, there’ll be a line outside of the club just to see you.”

“I’m with Eddie on this one,” one of the backup dancers said. She was spunky black girl called Choronzon. Well, her real name was Cheryl but you get the idea. “Asmodeus was a boring, stereotypical stripper. Pole and all. But you? Man you’re going to make everyone else envious, okay?”

Steve ducked his head and blushed. Robin bumped his shoulder with hers.

“Hell,” Gareth said with a giggle at his own stupid pun, “most of us spent that hour of you with the backup dancers just watching you. Something I assure you doesn’t usually happen, not even when we first started.”

“I can’t wait to start dancing with you,” Chrissy said earnestly. “I’ve even asked that you get the same days off as me so it’s expected we dance together.”

“What days are those?” Steve asked sharing a glance with Robin.

Eddie winced. “Yeah, I know you both wanted the same days off, but I could only manage one of the two, sorry. It’s just with the other waiters’ schedules I just couldn’t make it work. You’ll both have Tuesdays off, but Steve will have Fridays off, and Robin with have Thursdays.”

They shrugged. It was better than nothing. Hell, they were even back to back. They could make that work.

Jeff laughed, “He wants Steve to have Fridays off because he’s afraid I’ll be outshined on my own day.”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up at he looked at Eddie in shock. “You really can’t tell me you actually think I’d out lust Lust, do you?”

Eddie scratched his cheek and looked up sheepishly. “Well, not precisely, not really. But you can’t deny you have a sex appeal that can’t be matched or compared. And that’s what we don’t want. People comparing you. Because even so-called progressives still find white people more aesthetically pleasing and the more we can keep people from making that direct comparison the better.”

Steve half shrugged. “I have no problem with that, but I guess that means my dreams of dancing with him have been dashed.”

“Sorry, man,” Jeff said dramatically, “I’m a solo act. I don’t do partners. I inspire lust, I don’t fall victim to it.”

He pretended to faint in Jeff’s arms and he dipped him dramatically. They straightened up with giggles. Eddie was starting to think he might have to swap sins with Steve if his stomach churned every time Steve flirted with someone else.

Which was ridiculous. He didn’t date his dancers and he wasn’t about to start now just because his head was turned by such a pretty face. Besides, it seemed that Steve and Robin were job rovers and they no doubt would get sick of this place and move on to the next one.

“All right,” he said cracking his knuckles as he sat back down at his desk. “The cleaners will be here in a half hour, so if you don’t want to help them, I’d clear out.”

Everyone made a scramble for the doors, all except Steve. He lingered at the door after everyone had left and when Eddie spotted him, he cocked his head to the side.

“Is there something you needed, Steve?”

Steve chewed on his bottom lip and then surged forward. “It is okay that I’m doing the whole angel thing, right? I wasn’t trying to change the theme of your club. I just picked the song to stand out. I figured you had every variation of every song about devils, demons, and hell,” he rambled.

“Whoa, whoa,” Eddie said, holding up his hand, “take a deep breath there before you pass out on me.”

Steve took in a large breath and just stared at him wide eyed.

“Sit down a minute,” he continued and waved a hand at the chair in front of his desk.

Steve wavered a moment before doing as he was told.

“I’ve been managing this club for longer than I’ve owned it,” he began.

Steve blinked at him a moment in shock. “What? It wasn’t originally yours?”

Eddie shook his head. “Nope. Back when I first started here as a dancer, it was called the Kit Cat Titty Club.”

“That’s a horrible name!” Steve said, rearing his head back in disgust.

“That it was,” he agreed. “The owner started it as a proper burlesque club. A throw back to the speakeasies of the 1920s. You had waitresses in bunny suits, cigarette girls, a live jazz band in the corner playing the tunes the dancer would strip to.”

Steve raised an eyebrow, and nodded appreciatively. “Sounds like a fun way to spend your Saturday night.”

Eddie smiled at him. “Yeah it does. Too bad it got hit with the whole steampunk era. No one wanted decadence and jazz music. They wanted Victorian era saloons and public houses. Gas lit halls and lots and lots of ruffles.”

Steve winced in sympathy. He had a couple of friends who had gotten into the phase a few years back. Too many ruffles and gears and too many gears getting caught in said ruffles.

“So what happened?”

“I told him the best way to fight the wave wasn’t join to in,” Eddie said, “but to create something new and it became the Hellfire Exotic Club. Then when he retired a couple years back, he gave it to me. Said it was mine and had been for years anyway, this was only making it official. God, I miss that bastard some days.”

“Yeah, where did he retire to?” Steve asked.

“Back to Bumfuck Middle of Nowhere Indiana,” Eddie huffed. “Or better known as Hawkins.”

Steve cackled. “I’m from there and I can’t imagine anyone wanting to go back.”

“My uncle, Wayne always was more stubborn than he was smart,” Eddie said shaking his head fondly.

“You stripped for your uncle?” Steve asked, his eyes wide.

“No, no,” Eddie said trying to hold in his laughter. “Of course not! Not everyone strips here. Brian, our Greed only gets as far as his pants. Chrissy will leave her g-string on. Like if you wanted to, you wouldn’t have to strip. It’s about sensuality and titillation than bump and grind style stripping. I think that’s why Billy never really fit in here. Because if Billy was anything he was your typical stripper. I know we throw that around a lot but he was it. Here.” He dug around in his desk for a moment and pulled out a picture.

He handed it to Steve. “This is our first night as the Seven Deadly Sins. Everyone else you know, so Billy won’t be hard to pick out.”

Blond, muscled, tanned, and oiled. Typical male stripper. Nothing special. Nothing new.

“Was he someone your uncle hired?” Steve guessed handing the picture back.

“Yeah,” Eddie said, “because he looked good in spats and suspenders. But he never really fit in and maybe that’s why it blew up the way it did. Anyway the point is dancing for my uncle was hell of a lot better than working with my dad, so...” He wagged his eyebrows once.

“What did your dad do?” Steve asked.

“Stole cars.”

“Oh.”

Eddie chuckled. “It’s fine. He’s in jail now in Texas. Third strike, will be in there until I’m old and grey.”

“Shredding on your guitar,” Steve said softly, “while the next generation of Sins dance to your music.”

Eddie smiled fondly. “I like the sound of that.” He cleared his throat. “Shit, we got way off topic there. The point of my story is that this place has changed before and change if done right it’s a good thing. Besides what makes demons so interesting is that they used to be angels. People love a hero, but what they love even more than a hero is to see that hero fall. We’ve just never tapped into that potential yet,” he finished with a shrug. “So don’t you be worrying that pretty head of yours, okay? I’m good at this.”

Steve smiled and stood back up. “That does help. Thanks.” He scratched his cheek and then hummed. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I guess so,” Eddie replied softly. “Good night, Steve.”

“Night, Eddie.”

Once Steve was had left, closing the door behind him, he buried his head in hands. This was going to be hell. He could feel it.

There was just something...sparkling about Steve. Something bright and beautiful. And Eddie couldn’t believe his luck. He doesn’t know why Robin left work at the rec center where Steve taught pole dancing as exercise, or even what she did there, but he could tell they were both really worried about money right now.

But whatever the reason for their leaving, he doubly grateful they landed in his lap. She was a good waitress and Steve was a phenomenal dancer.

But unlike every other dancer who had walked through those doors and into his life, Steve also walked into his heart too. And Chrissy crushing on Robin wasn’t good, this was bad. He couldn’t be seen to have favorites.

So he would have to keep his distance.

Famous last words, he knew. Fate liked throwing curve balls at Eddie, and he really should have been more careful about making promising he couldn’t keep.

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Tag List: ONE SLOT REMAINING

1-@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @dreamercec @sadisticaltarts @too-much-tma-stuff

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #dancer au

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crowwritesaway · 7 months ago

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Jealous Patrick Bateman x Female Reader Pt. 2

“Are you having fun?” One of your coworkers asked Patrick. Patrick scoffed. Is this what they call fun?

“My drink is almost done?” She complained in hopes he would buy her a drink. Patrick hummed, not showing any interest. “Where did you meet Y/N?” Patrick sighed, his eyes didn’t move from where you were sitting. “We went to school together.”

“Aww. Childhood friends. That’s so sweet.” She faked a smile. Patrick rolled his eyes. “Tell me. Has she always been like this?” Patrick glanced at her for a second before turning back to you. “Like what?” And people call me insane? Is she insulting my Y/N? She giggled, slapping him playfully on his shoulder. Patrick grimaced. Only Y/N can touch me.

“She’s quiet. Too quiet. It’s like she’s not all there.” Patrick scoffed. She just like them. Them as in the people who hurt you. You glanced over at Patrick. His posture looked confrontational. You sensed he was irritated. “Is this how you treat everyone or is my Y/N special?” He mockingly smiled at her. You excused yourself from your coworker and made your way to his side.

“I’m serious. She’s weird. It was a pity invite.” Patrick glared at her. Why is she still talking? Can see not see my face? He glanced around the club. Oh, she’s lucky it’s a busy night. “Y/N, she’s perfect the way she is. Maybe you’re too loud. I mean, tell me. Do you ever shut up? Or you just say whatever because between you and me, being normal is overrated.” Patrick grinned at her. He could see the uncertainty in her eyes. She thought she could sway him to push aside Y/N.

She laughed. “Is everything okay?” You asked, standing in front of them. Patrick looked over at you with a soft expression. “I missed you.” He scooted out the booth seat. He hugged you. You hugged him back. “Did she upset you?” You asked, narrowing your eyes. He wasn’t the only protective person in the friendship. It went both ways.

“My ears. She talked them off.” He pulled away. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters to me.” You pursued your lips. You looked at your coworker. She looked away. You frowned. She probably thought badmouthing me would get her into his arms. Pathetic.

Patrick furrowed his eyebrows. “Look at me. Don’t strain your eyes by looking at that lovely coworker of yours.” He grinned. She was anything but lovely. Lovely my ass. “Let’s go somewhere else.”

“The company. The music. Everything sucks here.” Patrick complained, looking into your eyes. You nodded. It was boring. You thought interacting with them would be exciting and inviting but it wasn’t. It felt like they used you to bring Patrick. “I couldn’t agree more.”

“Come.” You went to say something. “They don’t deserve to hear anything from you.” Patrick cling to you. “Alright. Let’s go.” Patrick led you through the crowd. Your coworkers watched you leave. Their eyes filled with hate and envy.

You exited the club. The limo was there. Driver outside has opened the door. “Patrick.” You scolded. He shrugged his shoulders. “You never know.” He was prepared to drag you away from anyone. They were deserving nor worthy of your attention. Only him.

Now siting in the limo. “You should just quit.” You sighed. “Think about it. You could sleep in. You wouldn’t worry about the next project. Reading until god knows what hour at night. You could do whatever you want.” Patrick place his hand on your cheek. You both stared at each other. “Tempting.” Patrick glanced at your lips. “Don’t I know it.” He moved his hand down to your love handle. “I’ll take care of everything. It’ll be freeing.” For both you and I.

“Mmm. You make it sound so good.” Patrick licked his bottom lip. “Imagine if I did more.”

You flushed. “Alright. I’ll try this out.” Patrick smiled in victory. “That’s great. I look forward to seeing your messy hair.” He said, mischievously. “Fuck off.” Patrick gripped tighten on your waist. “No. It’s fuck me.” Your eyes flickered at his lips. Nope. He’s my bestfriend. “In your dreams.”

Patrick moved his hand away. “Yeah, I loved every second of it.” Your eyes went wide. “How much did you drink?” He was such a flirt. “Not much. You know how much I hate drinking when we’re out.” He needed to stay sharp to keep you safe.

“Of course. Part of this job change is them, right?” You asked, staring at the streets. You both faring forward. Patrick nodded. “Part of the reason.” You bit the inside of your cheek. “What..” Patrick interrupted you. “It’s not worth knowing. I’ll take care of it.”

He laid his hand over yours. “All that matters is your happiness. My best interest is yours. Your happiness is my happiness.” It’s us versus everyone else. No one else. Just us.

Stay around for more of Jealous Patrick Bateman x Female Reader

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Requests/Commissions are Open❤️

#patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #jealous Patrick Bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #tw obsessive behavior #tw possessive behavior #tw manipulation #slasher x y/n #x plus size reader

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jiminjamms · 8 months ago

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sex therapy :: 28. perfect timing

chapter tags/warnings: therapist! toji. manipulative! naoya. toji defends you. naoya 100% has anger issues. infidelity/adultery. extremely strong language. corruption. family drama.

word count: 3.8k

notes: hugs to everyone! been a while, and my busy days at work (plus straggling mental health) have not been doing me favors. writing, reading, and interacting with you all have been bringing me joy. i spent extra time on this chapter to make this piece what i hoped it would be. enjoy. likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

Toji loved working on Sundays.

With his colleagues off, Sundays were the only day in the week when Toji could be the sole person in the therapy office. He appreciated the slowness that came with working on the weekends, allowing him to balance his time for scheduled appointments with unoccupied windows used to strategize and decompress.

He relished in the lull. The tranquility. The peace.

But alas, the serenity was cut short on this particular Sunday, as someone barged through the entrance like a wild boar, causing a rambunctious racket as the front door flung open with immense force.

The doorknob clanged against the wall, and Toji—sitting behind the reception counter—looked up from a patient file on his computer screen.

With both curiosity and annoyance, he peered above his monitor.

The black tips to blond hair. The sharp brown glare. The permanent frown.

Who else could this have been but Naoya Zenin, presenting himself in the flesh?

The incomer’s expression consisted of nothing but antipathy as he bared his teeth at the doorway, his hands balled into fists by his sides. Based on how he glared upon seeing his older cousin, anyone could safely conclude that this man was beyond livid.

Must he pester me on the weekend? Toji thought as he mentally shook his head, clucking his tongue faintly in disapproval. He had not seen Naoya ever since his official departure from the Zenin Corporation and household, which was months ago. From his recollection, the manchild before him had a fickle personality, bursting into immature fits that easily made someone younger (like his son Megumi) seem like the actual adult around.

Given this, Toji legitimately did not understand how you had been putting up with Naoya as your husband.

As for himself, Toji did his best to ignore the new presence, clicking his mouse as he resumed analyzing the file on his screen. He did not wish to spare a moment longer than necessary tending to the human tornado on his way. If Toji had wanted to deal with Naoya in person, he would have confronted him long ago. Rather, he had decided strategically to watch his cousin wreak havoc from afar to avoid interacting with his burdensome family. Everyone in the Zenin household, except for Mai and Maki, was not worth the aggravation that came with mere association.

Now, especially with today’s booked schedule, Toji would not be able to make an exception to soothe Naoya’s upcoming tantrum.

On the other hand, Naoya had no better choice than to drag himself to his older cousin’s doorstep.

Had circumstances been any different, he also could not bother to see Toji again. He hadn't talked to Toji in months. Why would he? After many years of neglect and inferiority, Naoya finally achieved everything he wanted.

Or so he thought.

This was why, to face his estranged relative again—after recently learning that you had been seeing him for weeks—was a grand ego blow to Naoya, who could not accept the possibility that he was losing his reputation’s very foundation to the man he had envied all his life.

Recognizing the indignation that fumed from the current Zenin heir, Toji seized the opportunity to inveigle his cousin and greeted him with a cheer.

“Good morning!” he beamed, raising his hand in salutation. The scar by his lips flexed from his grin. “Do you have an appointment?”

Naoya scowled awfully.

"Great to finally see you again, Toji Zenin."

Immediately, the said man’s smile fell at his cousin's overly casual tone. "Woah, there,” he shot back. “Show some respect, will you? First, my last name is Fushiguro. Do not refer to me as Zenin. Second, calling me by my first name is bad manners. I'm older than you, kid."

Without question, the comment irked the blonde. Of all people in the universe, this was Naoya Zenin in question, a hubristic man who hated humiliation and the need to concede. His demeanor hardened with resentment while he struggled to maintain his composure.

"Fine, Mr. Fushiguro."

Toji quirked another smile.

Theoretically, he had no problem demanding more but decided to be nice by saying, “That’s better.” He locked his computer as he shifted his attention, crossing his arms as his back rested against his chair. “I haven't seen you in a while. Remember the days when you used to work here, too? Good times, hm?" All rhetorical chit-chat and pleasantries and, as expected, there was no response. "Well, I have only a few minutes to spare, after which I have business to attend. So...what brings you to visit?”

Another ironic question, as Toji already knew the answer.

Over the phone, he had spoken with an irate Naoya who demanded to speak to his wife and have her back home. Despite his insufferable treatment toward you, the Zenin CEO could not stand how his apartment remained empty the past few nights, meaning he hadn’t gotten his dick soaked by his lawful spouse like he should be doing.

But then again, Toji thought, he already has a mistress to satisfy himself with.

Meanwhile, Naoya might as well be digging holes into his cousin’s skull from how his glower fizzed with malice. He opened his mouth, only to promptly purse his lips again to choose his reply carefully.

“Did you make her see you?”

Quite a question.

Toji blinked rapidly through an empty stare.

Where did that come from?

“‘See me?’” he had to clarify.

In one smooth motion, Toji stood from his seat, his chair bouncing back slightly when he did. With his arms still folded over his chest, he meandered around the counter area that separated the client and employee zones in the reception area, stopping mere steps away from the younger man.

Then, he repeated, “See me who?”

Naoya did not appear amused in the slightest.

His hazel eyes all but narrowed from vexation. The paroxysm of negative emotions on the blonde’s face made him appear ready to snap. Like a button ready to blast everything around him, he was close to letting his wrath take over. “Did you send my wife your therapist information just so that you could talk to her and figure out how to get revenge on me?”

What an oddly specific accusation.

“Why would I do such a thing?” It was more of a statement than a question, and Toji could see how his nonchalance profoundly irritated the other man. “She found me like how all my other therapy clients find me. But me reaching out to her personally merely to spite you? No. That's only some shit you would think to do. Unlike yourself, I'm not that petty."

Toji was blunt in his response, he knew.

In his defense, he would rather cut to the chase than beat around the bush.

He no longer headed the Zenin conglomerate, but he still had a therapy practice to manage and a family to look after. With his packed schedule, every second mattered and he wasn’t the type to waste his time lingering around and dealing with non-important business matters, such as the grouchy kid with him.

His observations definitely blew a fuse within Naoya, though.

"Excuse me?!" In two sharp steps, he closed the distance between Toji and himself, jabbing a finger into the other's chest. Bold. “You’re fucked, you know that? You’re so damn fucked," he hissed, and the edges of his mouth contorted into a derisive sneer. “You…You’re goddamn obsessed with Y/N, and you don’t even realize that! Give me a fucking break. You only give two hoots about the bitch because she’s my wife, but you don't actually give a shit about the woman herself.”

At that, Toji immediately swatted the hand from his pec.

“Incorrect, I do,” he retorted, his tone firm. “But do you care about her?” and he didn’t need to hear a response for that one, so he went on. “No, you do not. You know what? I found her situation sad because every time your wife talked about you, she told me about how you neglect and can’t satisfy her. This entire time, I was sorry for her precisely because I know the person you are. Fine, you call her your wife. What that means is she's not just a pussy for you to play with. You can’t just pick and choose different parts of her. But where were you when your wife was crying?” He paused briefly, letting his words sink into his silenced cousin’s head. “Where were you, hm? Where were you when she was upset? Anyone with eyes could’ve seen that she’s been having a hard time! But where?” and Toji gave Naoya one pointed glare. “Where…was her husband?”

In the sheets with an older woman.

Of course, that very husband would not admit that aloud, especially since he had yet to realize that his older cousin already knew about his affair with the other’s ex-wife. Instead, Toji saw Naoya twist his lips into a deeper frown.

“I have a company to lead,” was the excuse he spat out, and he ran both hands through his light strands in evident frustration. “I can’t believe our family thought that you were a capable leader. I, however, saw right through your facades, alright? Despite all your fucking degrees and licenses, you left the Zenin Corporation as a shithole for me to manage.”

“No, I had set the company to run efficiently,” Toji retorted, keeping his levelheaded demeanor. “You turned the Zenin Corporation into—in your own words—a shithole. You decided to fire everyone I had hired. So currently, your managers are inept, your shareholders are unhappy, your daddy is getting angry, and the most convenient person to blame is me.” He shrugged dismissively. “Rookie mistakes. E for Effort, I guess. Luckily for you, Y/N is a good way to cover up the competence which you lack. Thus, she’s only useful when you deem her as such.”

Naoya scoffed, and his shoulders rose and fell with each enraged breath. “Because you don’t understand what a burden she can otherwise be. Besides, I can treat and use her in whatever way I please!”

He might not display this visibly, but Toji felt disgusted.

“Don’t talk like you own her. That’s disrespectful. She's a person, not an object.”

"What—" Naoya paused, and his eyebrows creased in annoyance. "Who the fuck do you think you are? That woman is my wife.”

“Then treat her like one,” Toji shot back. While matching Naoya's hostility with his own, he could see the latter's eyes widen at the remark. Not that Toji paid him any mind, and he continued staring at his younger cousin with an unfazed demeanor that showed how willing he was to defend. "She might be your wife, but she is not your property.”

As if Naoya would care.

Rather, he clenched his hands into tight fists by his sides. “You need to stay away from her. You’ve had your chances with marriages. Y/N is mine and not yours. I swear, if you talk about her with your gross lips again, I'll—" He stopped, as he wasn’t quite sure what would be a good threat. “I’ll—”

“You’ll do what, kid?” Toji interrupted, knowing just how pissed Naoya would get from every reminder of who the older person was and who the actual successor to the Zenin inheritance should be. “I’ll keep her since you can’t. You call her a burden, but I don’t find her to be one. I don’t know about you, but I like her. Have you ever had a civil conversation with her? She's sweet and quite interesting to talk to.”

The continuous comments unsurprisingly make Naoya bristle further.

“I said don’t talk about her like that!” he snarled. “Here you are, bossing me around and telling me to treat her better, but listen to how you talk about the woman! Holy shit, you're such a fucking creep.”

“Me?” Toji repeated, appalled by his bravery to say those words. “Mind you, boy, she is the one who wanted to talk to me first. As her concerned therapist and the more mature adult, I believe I must listen to her complaints and make her feel better, especially when she keeps whining she’s not being fucked good.”

Naoya breathed heavily, his chest undulating while he boiled with rage. Yet, as the younger, more naive, and less physically adept challenger, he could not make himself fight back against the other man. “You...You don’t know shit, Fushiguro.”

Immediately, Toji arched a brow.

“Really?" Was that supposed to be an insult? "I don't know shit?" This was hilarious! "Oh, boy. I know a lot of fucking shit alright. About ‘your wife’ or whatever you want to deem her, there is not a single chance in hell that she’d ever think about calling you her husband anymore.”

Naoya stared back, rather stupefied.

In any other situation, he would simply take the remark as a cheap way to rouse him. Of course, talking about you would be the easiest route to do so. This time, though, Toji’s suspiciously happy visage as he retraced his steps to the counter and positioned himself comfortably against the surface had him uneasy.

He did not like what the other man insinuated.

"What...do you mean?" As much as he tried, Naoya could not hide how affected he appeared. “Our marriage is none of your damn business.”

Toji shrugged. "Marriage? What marriage? I don't see the rings on her finger, kid. Heard she tossed them. Apparently, you made her upset enough for her to take them off."

Without a better way to retaliate, Naoya clenched his teeth to signal his displease. “Ring or not, she’s still my wife,” he spat. “Plus, I do not want my wife around a womanizer like you.”

Instead of taking umbrage from your husband’s words, Toji tossed his head to the side and let out a deep, harrowing chortle. “Wow! You’re one to talk," he rebuked. "The whole household used to joke about how you brought a different girlfriend to each of our family dinners. At the moment, you’re married, and what? You want your spouse to come home, but you then drive her away. You want her to be a good partner, but torment her when she does. Please, you are embarrassing yourself. Why don’t you make up your fucking mind?” With his emerald gaze returning to the younger man, Toji then added, “Now, if you excuse me. My next client is arriving and I have an appointment."

Still, Naoya was not ready to let the conversation end. “We’re not done. You think you’re all ‘high and mighty.’ But, you’re low, Toji. So, so low. Your last wife was a divorcee, and now you’re a motherfucker into married women, huh?”

"So were you."

"What?"

"Baby?"

And, in one go, all signs of life drained away from Naoya swiftly at the new voice.

No fucking way, his expression seemed to read as he craned his neck around in rigid and robotic motions. Naoya had to blink twice to confirm the woman by the door before he placed his arms down and froze.

Mari, who returned the man’s aghast expression with perplexion, had her dark brows crinkled. “What…Why are you looking at me like that?”

Even with Naoya’s face presently angled away, Toji could see his eyes widen at the ludicrous question. Yet, they both thought the same thing: did she forget where she was?

“What are you doing here? I did not expect you,” she continued. “But, I’m here for an…an appointment.”

Her voice trailed off.

When the woman finally seemed to remember that Toji was also there, her dark eyes rounded in alarm. Wait, her expression seemed to say as she very, very slowly dragged her sights to the man by the counter. Once her eyes met Toji’s, her jaw fell slack before she promptly slapped both hands over her gaping mouth.

With the two visitors transformed into Medusa's stone statues, Toji took great gratification in the perfect timing. This coincidence far exceeded his expectations because he honestly did not anticipate ever being in the same vicinity as Naoya and Mari, yet here he was. Presented this chance, Toji pushed his bottom lip out in fake thought and furrowed his brows, pointing at Mari then Naoya then at Mari again.

“Seems like you two know each other?” he asked in mock confusion, his finger swinging between the pair. “How come I didn’t get invited to the party? Has something been going on between my baby cousin and my ex-wife?”

No response.

So, he continued.

“What? Were you two spying on me or something?” (He knew the answer was yes.) “Or…wait,” and his voice dropped to a dangerous low, “Don’t tell me that you two��have been having an affair?”

Naoya—realizing the trap they had been set up in—swung his arm forward, prepared to defend them with whatever good lies he could spin (which Toji knew that he had a talent for), only for the woman to speak up first.

“We’re acquaintances.”

The manner in which Mari snapped caused Toji to pop a brow in surprise.

Oh? he noted. His suggestion on their illicit relationship appeared to strike a particular nerve. Even Naoya could sense the danger in his mistress’s overreaction as his eyes widened in horror. He tried to give her a warning expression, but she failed to see him.

By the way, did Naoya, know that Mari—well—wasn’t very streetsmart?

Maybe, but he likely prioritized keeping her in his bed to pay her absent wits any attention.

At this, Toji could not pass on the excellent opportunity to simultaneously provoke the two people who betrayed him.

“Just acquaintances?” he pressed.

“Yes.”

In another curt response, Mari pressed her lips into a firm line and shot Naoya a ‘shut the hell up and play along’ look, thinking she was slick when Toji only felt second-hand embarrassment from how utterly blatant the communication had been executed.

Pretending to nod along, Toji added, “Interesting. Because I never knew acquaintances called each other ‘baby.’”

Checkmate.

But the woman must not be thinking, as she sensed her inevitable defeat but hurriedly explained herself by saying, “It’s not what you think, Naoya and I haven’t had sex since—”

“Stop,” Toji interrupted before she could finish her sentence. That statement truly crossed the line. The lady must be inane. To talk about her dirty deeds with his relative as if that was appropriate! Clearly, she was oblivious to common sense and proper etiquette, given how she was desperate to try to save some face, resorting to the most crass justifications as if that would ameliorate the issue. Toji felt ashamed to think that he used to be married to this woman for years. While he noticed a fit of pique boiling within him, he ultimately let the ill feelings go. “I never asked about your sex lives. I don’t want to hear about what you two have been doing.”

Plus, the tabloids have shown him enough already.

Nonetheless, Mari’s face brewed with annoyance. She folded her arms firmly and tucked her chin outward. “Well, if that’s the case, then when and where I’m riding your cousin's dick should not matter!”

“Oh my fucking lord, stop talking already!” and this time, it was Naoya who spoke, shouting into his hands and cupping his face from sheer exasperation. He had been stunned speechless for a while but could no longer contain himself. When he picked up his head, he growled with rage as he raised a shaking finger at the woman. “You,” he seethed. “You’re saying all the wrong things! Holy fuck, bitch, how fucking blind are you? Unbelievable!” He leered to the side as if shaking off part of his rage, only to add on, “Just…Just shut the fuck up!”

The sudden, scathing comments soured Mari's mien in seconds. “Wait, but babe—”

“No.” Naoya cut her off right there. “Don’t ‘babe’ or ‘baby’ me with your bullshit anymore. Can’t you fucking see the atrocities you have fucking committed in the last ten minutes? You’re literally ruining my life! Even Y/N wouldn’t be stupid enough to say all the crap you just said! I should’ve never approached a dumb whore like you.”

While Toji had his eyes widened from silent bewilderment, tears began to roll down the woman's cheeks.

“That’s a lie!” For what must be her first time, she had to face the reality that, despite all the pleasure and company she offered Naoya Zenin after his tough days at work, he was an egotistical sociopath and a married man. "That's not what you've been telling me. You know I’m the only person who can make you happy, not the actual whore whom you have at home! These last few months, you would’ve been absolutely miserable without me!”

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a reminder,” she hissed harshly. “You had said so yourself.”

At this point, Naoya found himself in the middle of a living nightmare.

To think about his wife who had been avoiding him for days, to see his loathsome cousin watch the scene like this was some sort of Netflix episode, and now to witness his mistress ridiculing him like a fucking fool.

“God dammit!” he roared. With animosity overwhelming his sanity, Naoya—who was already on the verge of destruction—only saw red as he lurched forward. He used his arms to sweep everything, all things, anything he could reach from a nearby tabletop onto the floor: a ceramic vase that shattered into shards, magazines that flew in all directions, a framed photograph that clinked upon descent. He didn’t stop there. Like a mid-tantrum toddler, he kicked angrily at the mess, sending paper and broken pottery flying in all directions without much regret for his actions.

In fact, this was cathartic for him. Because the very thing he wanted was to make his cousin's world wretched, just like how the latter had done to him.

“I'm going to find Y/N and bring her back to me, but if either of you…” the blonde warned several moments later, regarding the therapist and the woman with a deathly fire burning in his auburn eyes, “if either of you do more shit to ruin my life in the meantime, I...I will make you regret.”

With that, Naoya stormed off in a huff, releasing all the profanities that have manifested his anger throughout his life. Mari followed soon after, chasing after him in sobs.

Finally, as for Toji, well, he...was stunned.

He blinked thrice in the same second, processing what he had just seen.

He drew in a deep breath...

...and he chuckled.

He knew he looked crazy, laughing to himself in an empty and currently deranged parlor. However, Toji had not felt this triumphant and optimistic in years. He saw a hopeful gleam for himself, for his family, for his colleagues, and for you.

He picked up his phone with a languid grin, scrolling through his contacts and sending over a quick text when he found your name: Guess what?

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: Throughout this fic, Toji and Naoya obviously have a very complicated and terse cousin-ship. For weeks and months, I have been thinking about how to orchestrate this scene, where we see them together for the first time...and with Mari too. Likes and reblogs are appreciated, and let me know in the comments how you all are doing!

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