#everyone was just supposed to Know where the line was and there would be no feedback by which we might adjust our behavior along the way

[fandomfablesunleashed]

Heartfelt Deception

Law x reader (she/her)

Modern AU, fake-dating, friends-to-lovers, like one swear word.

Summary: Law asked you to attend a charity event his hospital is hosting as his fake girlfriend. As if that wasn’t enough, it’s happening on Valentine’s Day.

Words: 7.5k

Notes: For the Valentine’s Week event. I had this whole fake dating-to-hospital event idea for the ficmas event, but I scrapped it because I didn’t have much time to write it then. I’m so glad I did, though, because I think the story turned out much better for Valentine’s Day than it would have for Christmas.

English is not my first language

Masterlist

Dr. Trafalgar Law was pacing back and forth in the small office of the hospital. His fingers drummed anxiously against the table as he read the charity event invitation for the fifth time, each glance making his pulse race a little faster.

The truth was, Law never liked events like this. Fundraisers, speeches, fake smiles—it all made him itch with discomfort. His introverted nature clashed with the expectations of being a ‘people person’ in the medical field, and the last thing he wanted was to attend an event where everyone would be looking at him.

A month ago, during yet another relentless round of coworkers begging him to attend an after-work gathering, Law had casually mentioned that he had plans. But instead of letting it go, they kept pressing, demanding to know why he was always declining invitations. Frustrated, he blurted out that he needed to spend time with his girlfriend. Before he could even think, the hospital buzzed with talk about his mysterious partner, one no one had ever met. Now, he was cornered into bringing his partner to the hospital's prestigious charity gala on Valentine’s Day. The irony wasn’t lost on him—his colleagues were all too eager to point out how fitting it was to host an event focused on heart issues on a day devoted to hearts.

As one of the hospital’s top cardiac surgeons, Law was expected to be a key speaker. Worse still, he was supposed to bring his girlfriend. But the problem? He didn’t have one.

There was only one person he could turn to—you.

“You want me to do what?!” you asked, your eyes wide with shock, your coffee cup momentarily forgotten in your hand.

He sighed, running a hand over his face in frustration. “I need you to go with me to that stupid gala as my girlfriend.”

Your brow furrowed as you set the cup down. “You're serious?”

“Why would I joke about something like this?”

“Why would you make up a girlfriend just to avoid gatherings?” you shot back, leaning back in your chair, arms crossed. “You could’ve just said you weren’t interested in going.”

He glanced down at the table, clearly agitated, his fingers tapping against the surface in a nervous rhythm. “It’s not that simple. I’ve already turned them down too many times. They won’t leave me alone. And now I’m expected to show up—with a date. It’s just… ridiculous.”

You leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, as you considered his words. “Why not just say you broke up recently?”

“Because it’s obvious. Then I lose that excuse for the future,” he said, picking up his cup and drinking from it.

You stared at him for a long moment, trying to wrap your head around the absurdity of it all. “So, you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend for one night, just so you can avoid more gatherings down the line?”

“Yes,” he said simply, as if it were the most logical solution in the world.

You shook your head, unable to help the small laugh that escaped you. “You’re ridiculous. When is this supposed to happen?”

“February 14th,” he replied, avoiding your gaze.

Your eyebrows shot up. “Valentine’s Day?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, they thought they were being so clever with that one.”

A grin tugged at the corners of your lips. You couldn’t resist teasing him. “So, is this your way of asking me to be your Valentine?”

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Who’s being ridiculous now?” But then, with a sly smirk, he added, “So... you’re in?”

A long pause hung in the air as you considered his request. The idea of pretending to be his girlfriend was insane, yes. Pretending to be someone’s girlfriend—for Valentine’s Day, no less—was the kind of thing you’d laugh about in a bad rom-com. But the look on his face was impossible to ignore. Desperation, tinged with just enough pride to keep him from outright begging.

Finally, you sighed, crossing your arms as if it might shield you from the insanity you were about to agree to. “Fine. But you owe me big time for this.”

“Don’t worry,” The smirk on his face widened into a grin, and you wondered what exactly you’d just gotten yourself into. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

And with that, you sealed your fate.

The day of the event had finally arrived. Law was at your door, punctual as always, ready to pick you up just as you'd arranged. He stood there, dressed impeccably—his sharp suit tailored to perfection, exuding confidence and elegance. You tried your hardest not to stare too much, but it was impossible not to notice how effortlessly he pulled it all off.

“Ready?” His voice broke through your thoughts.

“Just a moment,” you replied, your voice betraying your hesitation as you moved closer to the mirror. You needed to make sure everything was just right. You were dressed in the outfit that made you feel good about yourself and was fitting for such an event. Yet, despite all the preparation, a knot of nerves twisted in your stomach. The idea of pretending to be Law's girlfriend made you nervous, no matter how hard you tried to pretend it did not. 

He sighed when you took your sweet time. “Can you stop checking yourself out?”

You glanced at him, an eyebrow arched. “Sorry for making sure people won’t judge your taste too much...” you grumbled, half-amused, half-defensive.

He scoffed as he moved closer, looking at you in the mirror. “Like I care what people think.” Then, with a pause, he added, his voice quieter, almost… sincere, “Besides, you look… stunning.”

You froze for a moment, surprised by his words. “Really?”

“Yes,” he answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. His gaze softened, and you swore you saw a hint of admiration there.

“Um, thanks. And… you look amazing too.”

He cleared his throat, somewhat uncomfortable but trying to hide it. “Let’s just go, shall we?” 

“You're sure this will work, right?” Law muttered as he turned to face you. 

“Yes, it’ll work.” You flashed a confident grin, trying to reassure him, though you were just as uncertain as he was. “You’re the one who got us into this mess.”

“I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.”

“Well, I can’t believe you made up a girlfriend in the first place,” you shot back. “But here we are.”

He sighed, running a hand over his face again, not sure whether to laugh or groan. It was one thing to get himself into this mess, but dragging you in was entirely a different matter. The pressure was mounting on both of you. Could you really pull this off? 

Then you caught his eye. A flicker of humor, a spark of something you couldn’t quite place, passed between you, and at that moment, you knew you could. Maybe this absurd charade wasn’t as impossible as it seemed.

He let out a long breath and straightened his posture, his decision made. “Alright, fine. Let’s get this over with.”

“Lead the way, then,” you replied, your tone playful, despite the nerves you were still trying to suppress.

He gave a curt nod, opening the door and holding it for you. With that, you stepped into the venue. The Valentine’s Day theme was apparent everywhere— pink and red lighting bathed the space, heart-shaped centerpieces adorned every table, and a live jazz band played romantic melodies in the background. You looked over at him and snorted seeing his expression.

“I take it Valentine’s Day isn’t your favorite holiday?” you teased, leaning just close enough so he could hear without anyone else catching on.

Law’s gaze flickered to you, his brow arching slightly. “What gave it away?” he said dryly, expending his arm to you.

“Oh, just a hunch,” you said with a small smile, slipping your hands through his arm. “You’re doing great, though. Really selling the whole ‘romantic evening’ thing.”

Law’s expression didn’t shift much, but there was a faint twitch at the corner of his lips that told you he wasn’t entirely immune to your teasing. “I’m thrilled you think so,” he muttered as he led you through the crowd. You caught glimpses of the people who had been whispering about Law's relationship for weeks. Their eyes fell on you both with curiosity.

“Dr. Trafalgar!” one of the nurses called out, waving excitedly. She eyed you with a wide smile. “Is this your girlfriend?”

Law’s face remained neutral. “Yes,” he answered smoothly and introduced you.

The nurse let out a little squeal of delight. “It’s so nice to finally meet you!” she exclaimed. “We’ve all been dying to know more about Dr. Trafalgar’s mysterious girlfriend.”

You gave a polite smile, taking the opportunity to slip into the role. “It's a pleasure to meet you, too. He talks a lot about his team,” you said lightly, with a little twinkle in your eye as you glanced at Law. He rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything.

The nurse beamed. “Oh, I'm sure he does,” she said, her eyes still sparkling as she looked from you to Law. “It’s rare to see him... charming.” Her voice dropped to a playful whisper, though it was clear she wasn’t trying to keep it a secret. “We always wondered what kind of woman could put up with him.”

You gave a small, modest laugh, sensing the opportunity to keep the conversation flowing. “He’s not as difficult as he looks.” You turned to Law, flashing him a playful smile. “And I'm quite lucky he let me in.”

Law’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but he quickly masked it with his usual impassive expression. “Enough about me,” he said smoothly, redirecting the conversation. “Let’s get you something to drink.” He turned toward the drink table, eager to move on.

As the two of you moved through the gala, a sense of ease settled between you. The people who approached were friendly, curious, and all too eager to meet the mysterious woman who had somehow captured the heart of the elusive surgeon. Law, as always, seemed somewhat distant, but there was a subtle shift in his demeanor, as if the weight of the event was just a little lighter with you by his side.

“Well, well, if it isn't the lovely girlfriend!” Shachi grinned, giving you a dramatic bow before standing up straight again. “You look awesome.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, Shachi. You certainly know how to flatter a girl.”

Penguin let out a low, amused chuckle from behind him. “Yeah, well, Law’s been talking about you for weeks,” he added. “He was so worried about you not showing up and ruining his perfect plan. I’m surprised you agreed to it, honestly.”

You gave Penguin a knowing smile. “What can I say? Someone had to save his ass.” You shot a quick glance at Law, who stood beside you, his expression neutral, but you caught the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Shachi leaned casually against the table, clearly enjoying himself, and turned to Law with a mischievous glint in his eye. “So, how does it feel to finally have a real girlfriend? I mean, I’ve been hearing rumors about this for a while, but you’re actually pulling it off, huh?”

Law rolled his eyes but didn’t respond immediately, though you could tell he was trying to keep his cool. “This will be a long night,” he muttered under his breath, but his friends were far too eager to let him off the hook.

Shachi’s grin only grew wider. “I’m just curious—how’s the ‘relationship’ going so far?” He glanced at Law, whose jaw was tight, trying to suppress his frustration. “Any sparks flying between the two of you yet?”

“Shachi,” Law said in warning, but he wasn’t listening. Law rolled his eyes, though there was a slight curve to his lips, as if even he couldn’t help but be somewhat entertained by his friends' antics. “I told you I didn’t need this kind of commentary tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Shachi continued, entirely ignoring Law’s attempts to rein him in. “But it’s so much more fun when we do comment.” He threw an arm around Penguin’s shoulder, giving him an exaggerated nudge. “So, Dr. Trafalgar, how’s it feel having your friends finally meet your ‘girlfriend’? You look so… happy.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at their behaviour. “I’m sure Law’s thrilled by all the attention,” you said, playing the part, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

Law cast you a sideways glance, but there was something warmer in his eyes than before. “Let’s just get through tonight, shall we?” he said, attempting his best authoritative tone, though there was a clear undertone of amusement, as if he was enjoying it just a little more than he let on.

Just as the playful back-and-forth was beginning to die down, a loud, familiar voice cut through the chatter from across the room.

“YOOO! Look who it is!” 

Usopp’s boisterous voice rang out, and you barely had time to brace yourself before he was at your side, grinning like a mischievous cat. He was joined by Kaya, who was looking stunning in an elegant dress, her eyes sparkling as she waved.

Shit. How had you not considered the possibility that Usopp would be here? Kaya was a nurse at the same hospital as Law, and of course, she’d bring him as her plus-one.

“Usopp, Kaya,” you greeted with a smile, trying to remain composed despite the sudden attention being drawn your way. Usopp's loud voice had already caused a ripple of curiosity to spread through the crowd.

Usopp’s gaze darted between you and Law. “Wait a minute… what are you doing here?” he asked. His voice was just loud enough for the people around you to overhear, making you feel the weight of every set of eyes now shifting in your direction.

You glanced at Law, who was now wearing a mask of calm—though you could tell by the subtle shift in his posture that he wasn’t exactly comfortable with the situation. You quickly shot him an apologetic look, trying to keep things as casual as possible. “Isn't it obvious — I’m with Law,” you said with a playful shrug, hoping your tone would deflect any suspicion and begging to whatever higher power that Usopp won't blow your cover. 

Usopp blinked, his eyes widening in disbelief, as if you’d just dropped a bombshell. “With Law?!” His voice jumped an octave, loud enough to draw even more attention, and you felt the heat of a dozen curious stares. Your stomach churned as the pressure mounted.

“Well yeah, we’re dating,” you said quickly, trying to offer him a pointed look that screamed for him to lower his voice. You didn’t look forward to clearing that lie later, though.

“What?!” Usopp exclaimed again, louder this time, and you fought the urge to physically drag him into a quieter corner.

“Oh, for fuck's sake, don't be so loud,” you hissed, your smile strained as you resisted the urge to clamp a hand over his mouth. You just needed him to stop.

Your words earned a sharp glance from Law, who was now standing as still as a statue, his jaw tight and his eyes dark with irritation. Though his face remained unreadable to most, you could detect the flicker of unease behind his usually impenetrable demeanor.

Usopp sharp eye for detail and relentless curiosity meant he was undoubtedly piecing things together in real-time, and the last thing you needed was for him to say something he really shouldn't.

Kaya, sensing the tension, stepped in smoothly. “Usopp,” she said, with a small but knowing smile, “maybe we should let them enjoy the night.” She gently nudged his arm, giving you an apologetic look. “It’s good to see you both. I hope you’re having a good time tonight.”

You smiled, grateful for her presence. “We’re managing,” you replied before gesturing toward her. “And you? How’s the night treating you so far?”

She laughed. “Oh, it’s been lovely. Usopp keeps insisting he’s the best plus-one anyone could ask for.”

“Because I am!” Usopp interjected, puffing out his chest.

“Nah, I'm way better, right, darling?” you asked playfully, turning to your date. 

Law let out a quiet, measured sigh, his eyes narrowing at Usopp, who was still watching far too intently for comfort. Recognizing that all eyes were now firmly on the two of you, he shifted gears seamlessly. 

Without missing a beat, he slid an arm around your waist and pulled you a fraction closer. His hand rested lightly yet possessively against your side as he glanced down at you with a smirk.  “Obviously.” 

The gesture—and his confident tone—left Usopp momentarily speechless, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Even Kaya seemed surprised, her eyes darting between the two of you before a knowing smile tugged at her lips.

You couldn’t help but smile, both at Law’s quick thinking and the way his response seemed to silence any further speculation from Usopp. “See?” you teased lightly, shooting Usopp a pointed look. “Told you.”

Usopp opened his mouth, ready to say something outrageous, but Kaya quickly stepped in, tugging on his arm with a bright laugh. “Come on, Usopp. Let’s grab some appetizers.” 

“This isn’t over,” he commented, but he allowed Kaya to steer him toward the other end of the room. You gave her a grateful smile.

“That was close,” you muttered, glancing up at Law. His hand was still resting lightly on your waist.

He tilted his head down toward you, “You call that close?”

“Oh, come on,” you whispered back with a grin. “You’ve got to admit, Usopp almost blew it.”

Law’s lips quirked upward in a barely-there smirk. “Almost,” he conceded. Then, lowering his voice  even more and murmuring into your ear, he added, “But I don’t mind setting the record straight when needed.”

The way his voice dipped sent a small shiver down your spine, but you quickly composed yourself, stepping slightly closer to him under the pretense of hearing him better.

“Well, you handled it like a pro, Dr. Trafalgar,” you teased softly, leaning just enough to let your words reach his ear.

“Hmm,” he hummed noncommittally.

Before you could respond, the event coordinator’s voice echoed through the hall, announcing the upcoming speeches. The room shifted as the crowd began to find their seats, murmurs of anticipation filling the air.

“You’re up soon,” you reminded him. Reaching out, you placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “You’ve got this,” you said confidently.

He glanced at you, his eyes locking onto yours for a beat, searching for something—maybe reassurance, maybe just the comfort of familiarity—before he nodded, a small but grateful gesture. “Thanks.”

As he made his way toward the stage, you couldn’t help but watch him with a sense of pride, your heart swelling with admiration. Even surrounded by the polished elegance of the event and the watchful eyes of so many people, he carried himself with an unshakable determination.

When he reached the podium, the crowd fell silent. He cleared his throat, taking a moment before launching into the speech. He spoke about the advancements in medicine, the importance of community support, and the life-changing surgeries that the hospital’s team performed. But when he mentioned his team and thanked everyone for their hard work, his gaze subtly flickered toward you.

For a moment, he dropped the cold exterior. “None of this would be possible without the support of everyone here,” he said. “And a special thanks to my friends and…my better half, who has been my constant rock. It’s easy to get lost in the hospital. But she keeps me grounded.”

The sincerity in his words was unmistakable. His eyes lingered on you for a fraction of a second—long enough for you to feel the weight of his gratitude—before he looked away, the professional composure sliding back into place effortlessly.

The applause that followed was thunderous, but you barely heard it over the warmth blooming in your chest. As Law stepped down from the podium, his expression was back to its usual stoicism, but the slight flush to his cheeks and the quick glance he shot your way told you everything.

As the applause slowly died down, Law made his way back toward you, weaving through the clusters of guests who offered him brief nods and congratulatory remarks. His posture was relaxed, but you could see the faint tension in the set of his shoulders—a clear sign that he was bracing for your inevitable teasing.

When he finally reached you, you wasted no time, leaning in with a mischievous grin. “For someone who wanted to ‘get through the night,’ you sure know how to captivate an audience,” you teased. “And what was that about ‘the one who keeps me grounded’? Are you getting sentimental on me?”

He stopped in front of you, hands sliding casually into his pockets as his eyes met yours. “Don’t start,” he muttered, though there was no real bite in his tone. “I said what needed to be said.”

“Oh, I see,” you replied, crossing your arms and tilting your head. “So, I’m just ‘what needed to be said’ now?”

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he leaned in a little, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “If you’d prefer, I can take it all back.”

“Not a chance,” you shot back, unable to keep the playful edge out of your voice. “It’s on record now. Everyone here knows I’m the one keeping you grounded.”

Before he could respond, Shachi and Penguin appeared, clearly having caught at least part of the exchange. Shachi was grinning ear to ear, while Penguin’s expression held a more subdued amusement.

“That speech was something else,” Shachi said, clapping Law on the back with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Especially that part about being grounded. You’re getting soft.”

Law’s glare shifted to Shachi, though it lacked any real venom. “Don’t you have someone else to annoy?” he asked, his voice dry.

“Not when you’re providing this much entertainment,” Shachi shot back without missing a beat.

Law rolled his eyes but didn’t bother responding, deciding it wasn’t worth the effort. Instead, he turned his attention back to you. “Are you enjoying yourself yet?” he asked

You pretended to consider his question, tapping a finger to your chin. “Hmm... between the impromptu Usopp interrogation, the surprise shout-out during your speech, and Shachi’s relentless commentary?” You grinned. “Yeah, I’d say I’m having a great time.”

Law’s exhale was sharp, but his lips twitched upward in a reluctant smile. “Good,” he sighed. “At least one of us is.”

Just as you were forming your response, the event coordinator approached the two of you with a bright smile. “Dr. Trafalgar, your presence is requested for some photos with the donors,” she said, her gaze flicking to you briefly. “And, of course, your lovely girlfriend is welcome to join.”

Law hesitated, his eyes narrowing. You could practically hear the gears turning in his head as he weighed the pros and cons of dragging you into yet another spotlight moment.

You decided to save him the trouble. “We’d be happy to,” you said smoothly, looping your arm through his. “Right, darling?”

The look he shot you was nothing short of murderous, but you only smiled sweetly, patting his arm as the coordinator led you both toward the photographer’s setup.

After the photos, you wandered back to the main room, weaving through the crowd. You spotted Usopp and Kaya near the dessert table, Usopp animatedly telling a story while Kaya giggled beside him. Heart-shaped chocolates and delicate pastries adorned the table, and you decided to grab a couple of treats before heading back to your corner of the room.

“Here,” you said, holding out a piece of chocolate to Law as you both settled near the bar.

He eyed it skeptically. “What’s this?”

“Chocolate,” you replied, popping one into your mouth. “It’s Valentine’s Day. You’re supposed to eat chocolate. It’s practically a rule.”

Law sighed, but he took the chocolate from your hand, his fingers brushing yours briefly in the exchange. He bit into it. “It’s good,” he admitted after a moment.

You smirked. “See? Valentine’s Day isn’t all bad.”

He gave you a sidelong glance. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

You just grinned wider and shrugged. Despite the occasional hiccup—like Usopp’s not-so-subtle attempts to sneak more information out of you—it was hard to deny that you and Law actually did have a great time. The whole evening felt surprisingly natural, even with the added touches and pet names that came with playing your part.

But as the night went on, the carefully constructed charade began to blur, leaving you to wonder if there was something genuine simmering beneath the surface. A fleeting warmth in the way he looked at you, a brush of his hand that lingered just a moment too long. You quickly shook the thought away before it could root itself further.

“You know,” you started, breaking the silence, “Usopp already texted everyone the news.”

Law’s brow furrowed as he glanced at you. “What news?”

You raised an eyebrow, giving him a pointed look.

“Oh. Right,” he said, the realization dawning on his face.

“Yeah,” you chuckled, crossing your arms. “I had to turn my sound off completely—the group chat went insane.”

Law let out a quiet groan and reached for his phone, pulling it from his pocket with a resigned air. He turned the phone toward you, revealing a string of increasingly enthusiastic messages from Luffy:

This is amaizing!!!!

I'M SO HAPPY!!!

GOOD FOR YOU!!!

WHEN DID THIS HAPEN??

Tell me evrything RIGHT NOW!!!

You burst out laughing, nearly doubling over as you read the flood of texts. Law pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something about how ridiculous Luffy was, but the small, reluctant smirk tugging at his lips betrayed his amusement.

“Looks like someone’s excited for us,” you teased, still laughing.

Law rolled his eyes, though the faintest trace of a blush colored his cheeks. “Luffy’s always excited about something. This’ll blow over. We will explain it later or something.”

You swallowed your disappointment and tried to focus on anything other than the fact that today was not as real as it seemed. Your eyes drifted forward just as the band started playing a slow, romantic tune, and couples began rushing toward the dance floor. You could feel the weight of the moment pressing down, the atmosphere practically begging for you to make a move.

“Well, darling,” you said, extending your hand toward him with an exaggerated flourish. “Care to dance?”

Law stared at you, his expression caught somewhere between incredulous and amused. “You’re joking.”

“Not even a little,” you wiggled your fingers at him. “It’s Valentine’s Day. What’s a fake relationship without a dance under the romantic lighting?”

He let out a quiet groan but took your hand anyway, his grip firm and steady. As he led you to the dance floor, you couldn’t help but marvel at how natural it felt.

For a moment, you both moved hesitantly, as if testing the waters. Law wasn’t one to engage in things like this—public displays of affection, no matter how fake, didn’t exactly come naturally to him. Yet, as the rhythm of the music settled between you, his movements became smoother, more confident. You matched his pace, the two of you falling into an unspoken synchrony.

“You’re better at this than I expected,” you murmured, glancing up at him.

“Don’t get used to it,” he replied, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “This isn’t exactly my idea of a great time.”

You chuckled, your fingers instinctively tightening their grip on his shoulder. “Could’ve fooled me. You’re surprisingly good at this.”

He raised an eyebrow, his eyes flickering with amusement. “Surprisingly?”

“Well,” you said with a smirk, “you don’t exactly scream ‘slow-dance enthusiast.’

Law huffed, but there was no real irritation behind it. He was paying more attention to the way your body moved in sync with his, the way you shifted your weight with each step.

The scent of his cologne was subtle but intoxicating, and the way his eyes stayed locked on yours made it impossible to look away.

“This isn’t so bad,” you murmured, almost to yourself.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It was meant as one,” you said, your thumb gently brushing the fabric of his suit jacket.  “I know this isn’t exactly your scene. Thanks for humoring me.”

For a moment, something shifted in his expression. The guardedness that usually defined him seemed to waver, replaced by something more vulnerable, something unspoken. His grip on your waist tightened ever so slightly, pulling you closer, and the distance between you narrowed until you could feel the faint brush of his chest against yours.

“You’re doing all of this for me, the least I can do is survive dancing for your sake,” he answered in his usual manner, and yet, it sounded somehow warmer. Then he added teasingly, “darling”

You tried to diminish how much you loved that nickname coming from his lips.

As the music faded, applause broke out around the room, snapping you back to reality. Law stepped back a little, his hand falling away from your waist, but the warmth of his touch stayed. He looked at you for a moment longer, his gaze searching, before he cleared his throat and glanced away, the mask of composure slipping back into place.

“Let’s get off the dance floor,” he said, his tone returning to its usual cool detachment. But there was a faint flush to his cheeks that you couldn’t ignore.

“Not bad for someone who doesn’t like Valentine’s Day,” you teased, keeping your tone light, even though your heartbeat had quickened as you followed him off the dancefloor.

Law smirked faintly, his amber eyes locking onto yours. “I never said I didn’t like it. Just that it’s… unnecessary.”

“Unnecessary?” You arched a brow, tilting your head. “Celebrating love and connection? That sounds pretty necessary to me.”

His grin grew. “If you need a commercial holiday to remind you of that, you’re doing something wrong.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his bluntness. “Touché,” you admitted, the moment feeling strangely intimate despite the dozens of other couples around you. He put his hand on your back and gently led you to sit down in the corner. You sat in silence for a moment before speaking again.

“So, are you enjoying the night yet? Or are you still counting down the minutes until it’s over?”

Law let out a quiet chuckle. “I’m surviving,” he replied dryly, though the corners of his lips twitched as though he couldn’t fully keep the amusement from showing. “If I’m being honest, it’s… not as bad as I thought it would be,” he looked sheepish as he added. “Your presence makes it more bearable.”

A warmth blossomed in your chest at his words, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned in slightly, your cheek brushing his shoulder. You felt him stiffen for a split second, but then he relaxed, putting his head on yours.

“I didn’t think I’d be… enjoying it,” he continued, his fingers brushing through your hair as if absentmindedly. “But I think I might’ve been wrong.”

You lifted your head just enough to look at him, finding his gaze already locked on yours. There was no mask of indifference now—just a rare moment of vulnerability, one that you hadn’t often seen. It was disarming. His hand gently cupped the side of your face, his thumb brushing across your cheekbone, and you could feel the slight tremor in his fingers.

Your heart fluttered unexpectedly, and you were unsure of what to say, or even if you should say anything at all. The quiet, unspoken understanding between you was enough.

“Well, well, well! Look at you two, all cozy!”

It was Shachi, followed closely by Penguin, and some other colleagues of Law from the hospital.  You froze for a split second, pulling away from Law just as his hand dropped from your cheek. Both of you turned toward the intruder, finding a group of Law’s colleagues standing a few feet away.

One of the surgeons, a tall man with a broad grin, chuckled as he shook his head. “Honestly, Law, I didn’t think you were the type to be so… affectionate.” 

Law’s face immediately shifted to that calm, composed mask he wore so well, but you could see the hint of a blush creeping up his neck. He scoffed. “What did you expect? For me to keep five feet away from someone I care about?”

“We’re just surprised,” the nurse you spoke with first today, smiled softly at the two of you. “But it’s nice to see you so… relaxed. We don’t usually get to see this side of you.” Her tone wasn’t mocking; instead, it held a kind, almost approving quality.

It was clear that they all weren’t just teasing for the sake of teasing—they were happy to see him like this. This side of Law, the one who didn’t always hide behind his usual walls, was a rare sight for most people.

“I guess there’s a first time for everything,” Law muttered, trying to keep the situation under control while simultaneously not looking entirely displeased.

As if they couldn’t resist, one of the younger doctors, a woman with long hair and a sly smile, smirked at you and asked, “So, come on, how did you two get together? Law didn’t want to say a word about it.” His grin widened as he leaned in, waiting for some kind of juicy story.

You chuckled, glancing at Law, who raised an eyebrow at you as if daring you to come up with an appropriate response.

“Of course he didn’t.” You nudged him playfully. “He’s never been the type to spill the details, has he?”

Shachi smirked knowingly. “Come on, Law,” he prodded. “We’re dying to know the real story.”

“Well,” you interjected, grinning as you looked at the group. “If you're looking for something juicy, I’m afraid I have to disappoint. We were just good friends for quite a while before it just clicked that there’s more and there’s no running from it. So, with a kiss, we sealed the deal, and are together just like that.” It seemed like a story that could be real, that would suit you both, and what kind of people you are together.

“That’s actually a pretty decent story, considering how tight-lipped you’ve been, Law,” he remarked.

Law shot him a sidelong glance. “I’m not in the habit of sharing my private life with everyone.”

The woman with long hair, delighted by the revelation, nudged Shachi playfully. “Well, it’s good to know Law isn’t entirely immune to matters of the heart. Who knew?” she said with a wink, enjoying the rare opportunity to see her usually composed colleague looking so flustered.

“I never said I was,” Law replied, though there was a faint hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth now.

You smiled at him, savoring the fact that, despite his usual reticence, he hadn’t shut down the conversation.

“Well, now that we’ve got that out of the way,” you turned to the group, “any more questions?

“Not if you want to keep your secrets,” Shachi teased. “I think we’ve learned enough for tonight.”

“Although…” Penguin started to say with a mischievous grin

“Alright, alright,” Law interjected, probably scared that more question may blow your cover. “You’ve had your fun.”

The playful banter continued for a few more moments, with the group lightheartedly poking fun at Law, but without pushing too far. It was clear they were genuinely enjoying seeing him in a different light. Even you couldn't help but smile at how the evening had turned out.

“Alright,” you said, nudging Law lightly with your elbow, “I think we’ve officially survived the interrogation. How about we grab some drinks and escape before they start asking for our love story in full detail?” you whispered.

“Fine by me,” he stated, standing up and offering you a hand. “Excuse us for a moment.”

You took his hand, your fingers curling around his with ease. He led you both to the bar and ordered your drinks. When you took them, you found seats nearby.

“They have a point, you know,” you commented, leaning back in your seat, sipping your drink as you shot him a teasing glance. “You’re surprisingly sweet with me.”

Law shot you a look, but his lips twitched upward in the barest hint of a smile. “Don’t start,” he warned, though there was no bite to his words.

“I’m just saying, the way you act tonight—” you paused, letting the words linger in the air, “it’s… kind of adorable.”

“You’re walking a fine line,” he murmured, his tone just low enough that only you could hear, and there was that familiar spark of challenge in it.

You grinned. “I think the real question is, why do you make it so easy for me to tease you?” You leaned back again, propping your elbow on the armrest, your eyes glinting with playful mischief. “Maybe I’m onto something.”

“You’re lucky I don’t have a stronger reaction to you, or I’d make sure you regret that.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by the hint of seriousness in his voice. “Oh? Is that a threat, Law?” you asked, half-challenging, half-curious.

He leaned in just slightly, his gaze softening but still intense. “Only if you push your luck too far,” he replied. It was supposed to be a warning, and yet it sounded way…warmer. You felt the air shift between you, the playful tone fading into something more subtle.

Before you could respond, the sound of laughter from across the room caught your attention, and you noticed some of Law’s colleagues still milling about, their eyes frequently darting toward the two of you. They probably thought their glances were subtle, but they really weren’t.

“Wanna bet they’re talking about us?”

Law smirked, his gaze flicking toward the group before returning to you. “I’m not betting against something that is 100% true.”

You chuckled, lifting your drink to your lips as you watched them huddle together in hushed conversation, clearly intrigued by the dynamic between the two of you. The whole thing was both amusing and oddly satisfying, considering how little effort you'd actually put into keeping this charade together.

“So,” you said, breaking the silence with a light tone, “what now? Do we stick around and continue surviving this ‘unnecessary’ holiday, or do we make our grand exit?”

“I think we’ve done enough, surviving for one night,” he declared, standing and offering his hand to you with a knowing glint in his eyes. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

You took his hand, your fingers wrapping around his with the familiar ease. “I like the sound of that.” 

As you made your way toward the exit, you said your goodbyes to everyone, your eyes catching a few lingering, amused glances from Law's colleagues.

“Well, I think we’ve both survived tonight, haven’t we?” you asked, glancing up at him with a teasing look, trying to gauge his mood as you stepped outside.

His gaze softened, and a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “I suppose we have,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Though, I’m not sure what’s worse—the questions or your teasing.”

You laughed lightly, squeezing his hand gently. “I think you can handle both.”

“Apparently,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand in a gesture that was almost imperceptible but undeniably intimate.

Instead of calling for a taxi, Law started leading you toward the nearby park. You certainly didn’t mind the extra time with him—after the whirlwind of the evening, the peaceful solitude of the park felt like a perfect escape.

When you reached a bench by a small pond, Law sat down, and you followed suit, the two of you settling next to each other. For a few moments, neither of you said anything. It felt like the perfect continuation of the night—no more questions, no more performances, just the two of you.

“Thank you.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the unexpected gratitude in his tone. “You're welcome,” you replied easily, your lips curving into a small smile. “I had fun.”

“You did?”

“Yeah,” you answered, your smile widening a little. “Did you?”

“I did actually.”

“Good” you said simply. “You know now that they’ll just bother and tease you about me, right?” you added teasingly after a moment.

He gave you a side-glance, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, but his gaze softened as it lingered on you. “I can survive that.”

You sat in silence, the quiet comfortable, with your hand still intertwined with his, even though there was no one around that you had to pretend for.

After a while, Law spoke quietly, “That story…

“Huh?” You blinked, trying to recall what he might be referring to.

“About how we apparently came to be… you made it quite believable.” You suddenly remembered your words from earlier: We were just good friends for quite a while before it just clicked that there’s more and there’s no running from it. So, with a kiss, we sealed the deal, and are together just like that.

“Well…um, it sounded plausible, did it not?” you said, as you tried to brush off the nerves creeping up.

“It did.” Silence fell again, but this time, it felt different. You wrecked your head as to what to say. You looked at him, hoping for something to break the tension, and found his gaze already focused on you. The intensity of it made it harder to find the right words.

But you didn’t have to say anything—his lips found yours in a tender kiss, slow and gentle, as if testing the waters for something deeper. The world around you seemed to fade away as you leaned into the kiss, your fingers threading through his hair. The moment felt suspended in time, perfect in its simplicity.

When he finally pulled back, his hand still resting against your cheek, you noticed a subtle smile playing at the corners of his lips. It was the kind of smile that made your chest tighten, the kind that carried a quiet promise, and the warmth that spread through you was more than just the remnants of the kiss.

“Well, that solidifies that it was all true.”

You heard the familiar voice of Usopp. The sudden intrusion snapped you out of the trance the moment had put you in.

You rolled your eyes, not even glancing in his direction, your focus remaining entirely on Law. “Get lost, Nose-ya. Now,” Law muttered, his voice stern, his gaze unwavering from yours.

“Alright, alright, I’m going!” Usopp chuckled, but you weren’t about to let him ruin your moment, not when it felt so real, so raw. You kept your focus on Law, and for a few seconds, there was just the two of you again, the world falling away once more.

“So, is my story true then?” you asked, a playful glint in your eyes.

“Yeah, it is,” he replied, his voice steady but carrying that quiet confidence you’d grown accustomed to.

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. “Can’t believe it happened on Valentine’s Day, after pretending to date for an event.”

“Maybe Valentine's Day isn't so bad after all,” he said, the words almost an afterthought. And you couldn’t help but agree as you tugged him closer, your lips finding his in a kiss that was even more intense than the first.

When you finally pulled back, both of you breathless, you looked into his eyes, and something settled in your chest—this was just the beginning of something, something you both weren’t willing to let go of. It was there in the way he looked at you, the way he held you close. You could feel it in your bones that whatever this was, it was real. And it was only just starting.

“Maybe you’re right,” you whispered, your thumb gently brushing over his hand. “Valentine’s Day might not be so bad… when it ends like this.”

He smirked at you. “We’ll see if you still feel that way next year,” he said, the challenge in his voice playful, but there was no mistaking the certainty in his words.

“You wanna fake-date me for Valentine’s Day next year too?”

His expression softened, the usual sharpness in his gaze replaced by something more tender as his hand brushed gently across your cheek. “No,” he responded quietly, his voice warm and sincere. “I want to be with you—for real.”

[amynchan]

"Another one."

The file is slapped on my desk, courtesy of Jack's hand. I do my best not to sigh, but some endeavors are honestly just doomed to fail.

"New recruit or job transfer?" I know I'll see the answer in the file, but if Jack's gonna be like that, then I can be like this. I don't even open the file.

"New recruit, asshole." Wow. Someone's in a bad mood. Wonder what crawled up his ass. Okay, fine, I open up the file this time.

Oh.

Oh...

You know, years and years ago, this might have been considered a conflict of interest. When there were enough people around, working jobs, that the work could be moved from an involved or easily affected party to an uninvolved one.

Maybe there was a reason for that.

"Hey, if you need to take a lunch break—"

"Don't. Just— just don't."

Well... what else can I do? I swallow up my words, nod, and look at the beaming face of Jack's niece again. Seventeen. Sweet girl. Her grades, like everyone else's, meet standards that might have been actually necessary so many years ago. Technology's moved forward. Life has moved forward. Humanity, as a whole, has evolved out of needing so many jobs that most of today's problems are manufactured. Enough to make people think about them but not enough to cause lasting damage to... well, anything if they aren't taken care of. And the people who skim the jobs we've given them? Nothing really happens. We make the fake problems go away one way or another, and nobody and nothing gets hurt in the process. No real loss.

It's busywork is all I'm saying. People like Sarah get to do busywork. The really exceptional people get hired here. Doing this. Keeping the world running on one side and keeping the population controlled on the other.

"All she wants to do is make a difference in the world." Jack doesn't have anyone else who can do this job for him. I don't think he'd want to, either. Once you know about how the world works, there's not really a way to unknow.

Well...

No need to tempt fate with thoughts like those. I go through Sarah's file.

"There's gotta be something else she likes." And there's lots in here. She's got friends. A robust social life. There are a few ambitions, but we can make some scenarios to fit and satisfy those.

But that's not the problem, and Jack knows it. I know it.

"How am I supposed to face her?" he asks. "She's going to come to family dinners, all smiles, talking about how much better the world is because of her and her coworkers and her friends. How much good she's doing for the world. How she's going to make it better for the rest of us, just wait and see. She's going to barrel headfirst into making humanity a utopia again!"

I'm smart enough to keep my mouth shut. Jack and I both know what utopia can do to people.

When Jack yells, I'm not surprised. His brother was never like Sarah. His sister in law was never like Sarah. As far as I know, nobody in his family has been like Sarah. Sweet. Determined. Good-hearted.

All determination and heart. None of the skill sets or natural talents we need in order to make her fantasy come true.

It would make a lot of sense to make Sarah a politician. Protected. Safe. Somewhere her ambitions can at least feel fed and her dreams feel real, at least.

Enough to make her feel proud. Worthy. Dignified. In this world where corruption is nipped in the bud and no one ever gets shot or goes hungry, a politician's job is easy, and the problems they deal with are minor.

But I know it would also be also enough to drive Jack insane. Meeting with his niece throughout the years, watching her be so proud of achievements that are real to her and hollow to everyone who knows. Hollow to him. It's a special kind of hell we live in.

One hell of a utopia.

In the end, Sarah will become a small business owner. We'll lay down the trail for her to run something that runs along the lines of 20th century ethical practices. She'll have her pick of products, and she'll run the operation in the best way she knows how. We can lay down breadcrumbs of opportunities and support the infrastructure and the product line from where we sit. She'll live a perfectly respectable life in her ethical and lovely shop for as long as she wants until she wants a transfer.

Maybe she'll be a politician then. Who the hell knows.

Not me, and not Jack, by the look of it. I look at him, and he glares back.

Yeah. Okay.

Jack slaps another file on my desk. This time, I just take it. There are some days where turnabout just isn't fair play.

In the near future, 85% of all jobs have been automated, and everyone's basic needs are met for free. You work for a secret organization that creates fake busywork jobs for the majority who aren't qualified for the few real jobs left, but need perceived meaningful labor to stay sane.

[chevxyn]

tropes!

blue lock characters as romance stories genre.

fluff, written, romantic, alternate universes.

valentines special.

note; happy valentines day everyone, sorry that i have not been uploading; i am so busy these days :((

ROMANTIC COMEDY — Shidou, Karasu, Otoya.

Shidou, would be the all time favorite male lead if he was in a romantic comedy. you’re the opposite of him. he was loud, and you were quiet.

One of the most embarrassing thing he did was when he came up to you, and fell midway. As you went to him to ask him if he’s fine, he did those cringe pick up lines. Let me just, re-enact that scene;

It was after school, you had just finished your day to day activities, including extracurriculars. Now Shidou, (for whatever reasons) decided to wait for you.

When you went out of your extracurricular room, he suddenly ran himself to you, and before he could jump to you, he fell.

Your eyes widened as you walk towards him, crouching down to his level. And before you could ask if he’s fine, his gaze went to you, finger-guns pointing at you, he says, “Did you see that? Guess you can say, I fell for you.” and winked.

You cringed internally before chuckling, before helping Shidou to stand up, and you both walked back home.

He would also joke to you about him liking his friend that is in his football team more, but if he would really be honest. He would choose you anytime and any day, rather than him.

Karasu, his story on how he fell for you is kind of ironic. So somebody liked you, and told him about it. And he thought, Hey.. What if I matchmake? he did, but, it didn’t turn out like he thought it would be.

When he decided to ask you to become his tutor (even tho he was pretty smart), you agreed cause he said the opposite. Not knowing it was solely to just figure out what you liked and don’t. Unknown to him, with how the two of your chemistry worked. He fell for you too.

“So, you were trying to set me up with someone else?” You chuckled and his hand slithered to your shoulder, “Maybe.” he looks at you.

“You’re not a really good wingman, Tabi.” you said, and he glanced at your direction. “How did they act when they found out we were dating instead?”

“Well, safe to say, they hate me” He smirked and you just leaned into his shoulder, giving a small smile, “But atleast I now have the most amazing tutor.” As he said that you gave his back a small hit, “What was that for?”

“For making me giving my all to tutor you, just to figure out you are smart enough.” with that, he just gave out a small laugh; and he kisses the side of your hair mumbling a small ‘I love you’.

So yeah, he was suppose to matchmake you, he was the one who fell and got you. To him, you’re the most perfect person, and nothing could make you mediocre.

Otoya, he is someone that made a bet. yeah, him, and his friends made a bet on if he could try and get that quiet person on their class.

When he agreed to the bet, everytime he made a move on you, you kinda just ignored him since you knew of his reputation. But after weeks of him pressuring you to go out with him, you agreed.

And he took you to a festival, only to realize at that festival, you are that kind of someone that he would admire. And eventually, he did fell for you, without the feeling of you being bothersome.

“Is this another bet?” You were standing beside him, a year at the same spot they had their first date. You knew about the bet a week after they made it, you weren’t dumb. But you didn’t expect he would fall for you and vice versa.

But here is the two of you, coming back here, at the same night and place of where they saw the fireworks together. “I don’t do bets anymore, babe.”

You just smiled and turned your gaze towards him, “And I don’t play with someone’s feelings.” He continued, “Anymore.” you finished and he held your shoulder.

And he promised as such, to himself. That he will be committed to you, since in the years he had lived, you are the only one that made him comfortable enough.

ROMANTIC FANTASY — Sae, Ness, Kaiser

Sae, He was the Crowned Prince of the Northern Kingdom. Who was the elder brother of your soon to be betrothed, you both first met in the Garden.

The first time you saw him, the two of you didn’t think much of eachother. Although, fate played a game. And the two of you would bump into eachother constantly, from the Library to the same Garden.

Eventually you both did talk more than you would with his brother, and when his father figured it out. They re-arranged the plan. And surprisingly, the two of you didn’t mind.

“[name],” it has been a few months since the two of you got married, and the two of you are set to lead the kingdom together. he called you, and your glance went to him. “Hm?”

“Ever thought what would’ve happened if you had married my brother?” he asked, his hand searching for yours, and when they held eachother, you gave a subtle smile, “i would assume it’d be a less interesting story.”

“I’m glad I got to marry you, Sae.” you said and he smiled, before pulling you close to him. “So am I,” he was so sure he wouldn’t fall for anyone during his life. So at that time when he met you at the Garden, and so on, he knew what true love is, and that is you.

So did he fell for you on the first sight? possibly, did he plan the ‘fate’ on meeting you everytime? definitely.

Ness, You were the knight of the kingdom, While you were walking the halls of the castle, a guy, that looked around your age, was searching for something.

At first, he looked like a guy that was gonna steal something from the hall, and when you stopped him, he panicked and introduced himself.

He was the new Magician, a new entertainer for the King and Queen. He introduced himself as Alexis, a guy from the North.

You apologized for scaring him and he was okay with it, and from there, the two of you were friends. Although there was something there that you couldn’t see.

“So, you defeated a dragon?” Alexis was surprised when you mentioned it and was admired of you, not that he wasn’t. “I did, it wasn’t that hard anyways.”

“You’re so easy to be admired, [name].” A pink hue could be seen in his cheek, and you just chuckled, “Thank you. I mean, you’re an awesome magician too.”

“What— no no, I have a frien—“ You let out a small ‘shh’ sound, “I wanna hear more about you, not that guy.” His cheeks reddened and he nodded. The sunset accompanied them, as they would get to know eachother better.

Kaiser, he was a general, during the war against another, he got shot by an arrow. He thought it was over, when he felt his vision getting blurry and darkened.

He never expected that he would wake up in a forest home, where an Elf came to his aid. It was you, you were kind enough to find him and took him in.

He thought the Elves was just myth, infact he thought he had died and this was just an Angel, but it proved him wrong when you touched his face just to let him know how real you are.

He didn’t wanna leave yet, not when an Elf looking Angel came to his rescue. Infact, he seems interested in you, as you are to him.

“You’re cute, ya know that?” He said to you, and your eyes averted it’s gaze to him, “Hum?” He glanced at your pointed ears, and how you looked at him.

“Come home with me.” He said and you frowned, you know you can’t go. You’re forbidden to go there due to the warnings that the Humans would kill the Elves. “I promise I won’t let them hurt you.”

Your heart raced, and you looked down. “Promise?” And he nodded, pulling your face close to his. Before he gave your forehead a kiss.

SCI-FI ROMANCE — Nagi, Isagi, Rin

Nagi, You met him on a game, VR to be exact. Where he absolutely destroyed you in a shooting game. Cause you somewhat hated losing, you dmed him.

1v1 occurred, and the two of you didn’t stop until you won. Which you did after losing 5 consecutive times to him. But it ended up making the two of you friends.

Months went pass, and the two of you met, it didn’t take long until you get an attraction towards him, and so did he.

The two of you sat down next to each other, on a flying board, enjoying the view of the city. Flying cars was passing by, as he laid down on the board.

And he pulled you down next to him, “The stars, despite dying looks beautiful.” He said and you glanced at him, “It’s like you.”

“..Are you telling me, I’m dying?” You hit his shoulder, and he huffed, “No. that’d be bothersome to think of, I meant you’re beautiful.”

Your cheeks heated up, and he laid his head on your shoulder, “I’ll teach you to be better in the game, only if you agree to be mine.” He said and you chuckled, “Sure.”

Isagi, fell down a black hole, and landed on your planet. He was nothing like you ever saw, where you came from you were cyborgs.

He was lucky enough that you met him first, and how two spoke the same language, and that the Planet that he is on isn’t quite as different as Earth.

How the two of you got close is when he figured out that you played something that called “Air-Football” Which was similar to football, but which he plays Professionally.

“So, the rules are just like football.” He said and you raised your eyebrow, “Eh, I guess if that’s what it’s called in your world.”

You were amazing at it, you scored goals after goals, it made Isagi wondered, what if you played the football that he knew?

When he tried it, he was not that bad, he just struggled at the part where well, you float. Everytime he falls, you would catch him.

One time, he fell on you, and the two of you chuckled on how he couldn’t get the hang of it. Honestly, the two of your chemistry was good, he never really had this type of chemistry with someone.

Rin, was a space explorer, searching for his brother. But, while being a planet, he saw someone that was laying down on the green grass. surrounded by flying creatures.

When they woke up, they looked like something that was not from this earth that’s for sure, wings that looks like ones of fairies that he would hear from his childhood stories.

You looked at him with your eyes that was oddly enchanting, and he froze. Before asking you if you ever saw someone that was on his photograph.

“No, I have not.” you had said, as your wings fluttered, your feet off the ground. “Why? is he lost?” You asked, and he looked at you, not wanting to answer that.

But, rather than letting him go alone, you decided to accompany him cause of sympathy. And you joined him, in hope you will find his brother with him.

He refused at first, but he eventually agreed after some persuasive arguments, and to be honest, it wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be.

“And this is Earth,” he said, he showed the holographic image, and your eyes would sparkle, he gave a subtle smile at that, he thought you were cute cause you are amazed at everything that he showed about earth, he liked that about you.

©chevxyn

[ladykailitha]

Heartbreak in Overdrive Part 1

Yeah, I know this is supposed to be Spellbound, but like this has five chapters in backlog, and it really needs to be let out before it breaks containment.

The title comes I'll Wait by Van Halen, as I wanted something to do with fashion and @bookworm0690 really came in clutch with these lyrics.

Summary: Eddie is a top model know for his temper tantrums. Steve is war photographer coming out of a traumatic experience by doing fashion photography. When hotheaded Eddie runs up against Steve's cool under pressure attitude, sparks fly.

Also I tend to make up fictional brands so I don't have to keep running for google every time I need a brand name for something.

~

Eddie Munson fought hard to be where he was. He had climbed up from the literal fucking gutter to being a top model. Fuck that bitch for ruining that title in the minds of the masses, making it meaningless, but he earned it.

He had full creative control over every little aspect of his shoots and everyone knew it. They knew what they were getting when they hired him. Every part of him was what they fucking paid for. His whole glam metal look was a package deal. His long hair, his tattoos, his style. That’s what they got when they hired him.

His current gig was St. John Whiskey, they were trying to appeal to the younger party crowd with their new canned cocktails. Eddie had tried them and they weren’t half bad. If someone served them at rave he went to, he would happy down several of the damn things. But he wouldn’t ask for them. Like ever.

Eddie briefly wondered who was going to shoot the ad, because they hadn’t told him before he signed on the dotted line. Not that it mattered, whoever they got would try to fob it off to someone else. That little detail made the little demon in Eddie curl up and purr. That companies would trip over themselves to get Eddie to model for them, while the actual photographers were fighting over who had to photograph him.

He arrived on set which was made up to look like a club, there were about a dozen extras all tarted up in club gear. To the right was his hair and makeup artist, Vickie Cameron, to his left was his manager next to a row of clothes that Eddie would choose from for the shoot.

Tucked behind a little partition were three photographers; Jonathan Byers, Argyle Ramirez, and Tommy Hagan. They were all playing roshambo. They were playing several games before Tommy groaned.

“Fuck!” he cursed and then walked over to get his kit. His assistant Carol immediately started setting up the lights and shit from his stuff while Argyle and Jonathan celebrated their win.

“Hello, boys,” Eddie said sweetly, causing everyone nearby to jump in the air.

Jonathan had the decency to look embarrassed, Argyle just grinned at him. Tommy on the other hand, his expression soured.

“Munson,” he said tersely. “Keep the tantrums to a minimum and maybe both of us will fucking survive this day.”

Eddie’s face transformed into a feral grin. “Do you job properly and there won’t be a tantrum to be had. Be the hack you usually are and I make no promises.”

Tommy surged forward, likely to start swinging, but Jonathan held him back. Eddie batted his eyelashes at him innocently, then he turned on his heel and made straight to Chrissy and wardrobe. Hopefully they had something good in there he could wear.

Eddie walked over to Chrissy as she was separating some shirts for him.

“They want a dance club vibe,” she said as she handed him four shirts, two jackets, and three pairs of pants. “Everything here has your style but with that club flare they’re looking for.”

He smirked. “Someone, somewhere is learning.”

She swatted at his ass. “Go get dressed, dick. Then hurry back so we can get your accessories picked out so we can get Vickie started on your hair and makeup.”

Eddie nodded and took his prizes to the dressing room. The first jacket was a blueish-black racer jacket and the other was a suit jacket with black sequins embroidered in a brocade pattern. The shirts were all button ups. Of the two black options, one was a soft cotton and the other was satin. The white shirt was of the same material of the first black shirt and the remaining shirt was a silky grey. The pants ranged from tight leather to ripped denim with a tuxedo pant thrown in for funsies.

He tried on several combinations before he settled on the leather jacket, the silver shirt, and tight leather pants. He padded back out to Chrissy who had an array of watches, necklaces, bracelets, chains, and shoes.

He immediately pulled out the shiny combat boots and started layering the jewelry just the way he liked it. Once he was satisfied, he sat down at Vickie’s chair and flipped his hair. “Miss DeMille, I’m ready for my close up!”

Vickie laughed. “Let’s get this pretty face even prettier for the camera.” She got to work on his hair first, washing and conditioning it to take the hair products it would take to tame Eddie’s famous curls.

By the time he was finally ready, so was Tommy and Carol.

She eyed him and then nodded approvingly. He matched the vibe they were going for, but stood out in a fashionable way.

“Ready when you are, princess,” Tommy sneered, pulling out a camera from one of his bags.

Eddie grinned at him and then got into position. Tommy called out poses and shots while Carol managed the lenses, cameras and filters. Things were going well until they weren’t.

“Can someone please tell me why this asshole extra keeps standing in my fucking light?!” he growled.

Tommy stood up from where he had been crouched on the floor. “There is no one in your light, I’m literally taking the pictures and there is not single shade over you.”

“Not that light, dumbass,” Eddie snarled, “the light from the disco ball. It’s supposed to be glittering on my face to bring in the club vibe but some asshole is literal blocking it.”

Tommy went through the memory card and went back as far twenty frames. “Shit, he’s right.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Of course I’m right, so are you going to get this asshole to stop mugging the shots or am I going to have to lock myself in my dressing room until you do?”

���I don’t even know who it is,” Tommy snapped back. “How am I supposed to find a needle in a fucking haystack?”

Eddie threw his arms in the air. “The disco ball is there!” He pointed behind where he was sitting at a table and to the left. “So it’s obviously NOT the people to my right or in the foreground! Use your fucking head!”

He stood up and stalked toward dressing room, leaving a path of destruction in his wake of knocked over chairs and people glaring at him as he pushed by them.

It took Tommy and Carol about an hour to find out who had been blocking the disco ball’s light and coach Eddie out his dressing room.

All the news articles blew up that Eddie Munson threw a fit on the set of his most recent photo shoot again. Talking about what a diva he was and how unhinged he was.

Chrissy sat him down to talk about the articles. “You probably shouldn’t have thrown the chairs, let’s be fair. But all the pictures that were taken after you came back were the best shots Tommy took.”

Eddie sneered. “They were in the way and I didn’t throw them, I tried pushing them out the way and they got tangled up and they fell. I just needed to be somewhere else in that moment or more than just chairs would have been flying.”

Chrissy sighed. She knew. She knew better than anyone how much space Eddie needed when he got into his head.

“Well,” she said, “we’ll ride it out like we always do. If Tom Cruise can come out of coach jumping with a career intact, you will come of this one just fine, too.”

Eddie threw his head head back and buried his hands into his hair. He counted backward from twenty until he got his thoughts under control.

“I wish Carol was the photographer,” he said mournfully. “She actually seems to understand the artistry behind taking the perfect shot.”

“And we both know she’s never going to a chance,” Chrissy said ruefully, rolling her eyes. “Because she’s a woman. But it wasn’t her who found the extra who was getting in the way of the shots.”

That made Eddie sit up. “Yeah, then who did?”

Chrissy shrugged. “Some friend of Tommy’s who was visiting. He’s some hot shot war photographer that Tommy met in art school and was in town for a couple of days for some award show.”

“Maybe hire him next time,” Eddie said with a snort.

~

When Eddie heard that it was going to be Argyle Ramirez doing the shoot for the Eva Laurent cologne that he was mildly annoyed. He wasn’t the incompetent asshole that Tommy was, but he was far too laid back for his tastes.

Eddie got to the set which was in Argyle’s studio. Everything was white and would be lighted to the appropriate colors. In the middle was a single black leather chair; one of those overstuffed kind.

There were about a half dozen people milling around and that brought him up short.

“Um...” he said glancing over at Chrissy briefly. “I thought it was going to be a closed set?”

Argyle looked up at him with that hazy, dopey smile of his. “The man of the hour has arrived. Awesome!” He looked around at the other people in the room. “Don’t worry my man, once you’re ready to drop robe, most of these people will have cleared out.”

“Most?” Eddie asked, trying not squirm.

“Sure,” Argyle said, blinking at him in confusion. “I’ve got to have my assistants to move things around and shit. But everyone else will have cleared out.”

Eddie bit on his lip. He couldn’t argue with that. Though he had tried. Several times before. Whenever he pushed back on being naked in front of strangers he was told that he was baring his ass to the world, what was a few extra people on the day of the shoot.

He went to go get his hair and makeup done, with Vickie trying to ease her nerves but talking about her long distance girlfriend who also did hair, but always needed help with her smokey eye makeup.

Eddie let her chatter wash over him and he relaxed, getting out of his head and into his body. His body was his job, his sanctuary, and his weapon all rolled into one. He cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, releasing the last bit of tension in his shoulders.

When he came out of hair and makeup he was pleased to find there were only two other people there besides Argyle. One knelt by a bag, while the other stood by the lights.

That was more than he would have liked, but he had to let it slide. He knew that there were some photographers who had full on teams and all they did was take the pictures. But Eddie had it in his rider that if they wanted him to model for them they couldn’t use those photographers.

He was about down to his underwear when Argyle came bursting into the room. He shrieked and pulled his pants over his crotch.

“Don’t you knock?!” Eddie roared in outrage, clutching his pants close to his body as a shield.

Argyle held his hands up and backed out. “Sorry, dude, I thought hadn’t gotten undressed yet.” He closed the door.

Eddie could tell the man was waiting awkwardly outside so he hurried to get undressed and throw on the black satin robe he was given. He tied the sash tightly around his waist and slid the slippers on his feet. He slowly opened the door and peeked out to make sure it was just Argyle waiting for him.

He stepped out into the hallway and Argyle looked up from his phone.

“You ready now?” he asked.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but if you had been like a minute later or two minutes sooner, I wouldn’t have been in the middle of getting undressed.”

“I’m going to be seeing you naked in five minutes anyway,” Argyle groused. “I really don’t see what the problem is.”

Eddie bit his tongue. He wanted to say the difference was consent, but it seemed like nothing would penetrate the thick fog of weed smoke around the photographer’s head. He just strolled past, his head held high.

Once he had warmed up enough he dropped the robe and the assistant in charge of the lenses rushed forward to grab it.

He sprawled on the leather chair, the material sticking to his ass.

After a few minutes of struggling to get comfortable he finally snapped.

“Is there anyway we can put something down on the chair so my skin isn’t being peeled off with every move I make?”

One of the assistants, Eddie couldn’t be assed to care which one, rushed forward with a long golden drape and laid it over the leather chair. Then when Eddie sat back on it she draped it over his body artistically, making the shot more provocative and less in your face nudity.

“Good thinking, Karla,” Argyle huffed as he knelt to take the next shot. “Pull his hair out a little bit so that it lays flat over the drape.”

Karla hurried to do as she was told. The shoot went more smoothly after that, but he could tell Argyle was annoyed for not having thought of the drape first.

Eddie didn’t spend the whole shoot covered by the drape, but it added something special to the ad that the Eva Laurent people loved.

But Argyle told everyone that Eddie had been reluctant to disrobe in front of people and that’s why the drape was added.

It pissed Eddie off, but with people wanting to believe the worst of him, trying to refute it was like pissing in the wind.

But he made sure to tell the Eva Laurent people that it was Karla’s idea for the drape on his way out, just to fuck with him back.

~

Tag List: NINE SLOTS REMAINING

1- @itsall-taken @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @irregular-child @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

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- @chaotic-waffle

[yuurei20]

Do you have information about Ramshackle dorm itself? Whether it be a character's opinions on it, or any history/lore from Crowley along the way through the main story/events? I know we don't know a lot about the dorm itself (I think that's intentional, as to leave interpretation up to the player), but combing through the whole story for lore has been difficult for me. Thank you in advance for your efforts and time. :>

Hello hello! Thank you for this question! 🏚

You are very right that we do not seem to have very much information about Ramshackle Dorm!

For characters' opinions we know that Malleus is fond of it (he likes abandoned ruins in general (more here ->)), and Crowley is maybe more ambivalent? He has a dialogue line referring to it as a "dilapidated old--" and then self-corrects to say, "historic building."

As for why it was abandoned, the ghosts who live there say that everyone got scared of them and ran away, which Crowley confirms.

This is a curious explanation as ghosts are regular staff members at the school with none of the students seeming frightened of them--if anything, the chef ghosts are more afraid of Lilia than any of the students are of them.

While searching for information that may have been missed, I found this fascinating theory from 2020 that Yen Sid from Fantasia could be the founder of NRC as the counterpart to Merlin (who may have inspired RSA’s Ambrose) and possibly the person who appointed Crowley as headmage.

The video creator guesses that Ramshackle is even older than Pomefiore (otherwise confirmed as the oldest dorm) as it was built alongside the school itself rather than being established in a pocket dimension like the other dorms.

As acknowledged in vol. 1 of the Official Fanbook, Ramshackle has taken a lot of inspiration from the 1936 Mickey Mouse animation “Thru the Mirror.”

And Snow White, the basis for Pomefiore? Was released a year later in 1937 👀

We have a comment from Trey that the dorms were constructed in order of Pomefiore -> Heartslabyul -> Diasomnia (which corresponds to those movies' years of release), but no mention of Ramshackle 📝

(Maybe irrelevant, but the Japanese-language title of the “Thru the Mirror” animation is 「ミッキーの夢物語」, which means close to “The Story of Mickey’s Dream.”)

But if Yen Sid is the founder of the school, wouldn't he have a statue or something? And was he not particularly villainous? And why is Ramshackle not treated with more respect by Crowley, at least, who is presumably the one person who knows what it used to be?

To explain this the creator of the video above suggests that maybe NRC was not always a villain school: at some point there was maybe a shift of power from Yen Sid to someone else, who decided to go in a different direction.

This included a renovation that removed things from its previous incarnation like references to Yen Sid and abandoning Ramshackle as a relic of what the school once was.

We know that Azul looked through the past 100 years of exam questions in Book 3, the same amount of time that NRC’s student selection process has been in use, the same amount of time that NRC has been losing all competitions to RSA, the same time that STYX was established…what exactly happened 100 years ago? 👀

A ghost mentions being the captain of a spelldrive team back when he was still alive 90 years in the past, so at least one of Ramshackle's ghosts moved in after whatever that event was.

The video creator proposes that that is when the school shifted its focus to the powers of darkness, only admitting students with those particular traits and no longer accepting students who would have been sorted into Ramshackle Dorm.

They ask, is it possible that the prefect is someone who would have been sorted into Ramshackle like the students of the past if the school had not shifted gears? Is the prefect actually where they are supposed to be, just 100 years too late? 📝

Whatever it is that happened 100 years ago, whatever secret it is about Crowley that Azul may or may not hold—the video creator guesses that Ramshackle Dorm is the key!

We just do not know the key to what 🔑

[fancyfeathers]

for the villain au for tim imagine that they were class mates or good friends but on a mission darling finds out abt the whole court of owl, so she starts avoiding tim but of course he soon finds out her identity

Yandere!Batboys as Villains with Robin!Darlings AU Masterlist

Now Tim would know his darling’s identity before she even has an idea of who he truly is. For all she knows, he is just a sweet young man whose family lives in the same part of town as Wayne Manor.

How she would find out is almost heartbreaking.

It would be a late one night and it would be after she left the Robin mantle, so a number of years after she has met Tim. She is on an investigation, since a number of people who are have aimed for change in the city have gone missing, activists, a few good hearted politicians and police detectives, only for them to be turned up murder, pinned to the wall with knives.

Bruce thinks it is the Court of Owls but Tim’s darling tells him it’s only a myth and even he can be too paranoid sometimes…

But he was right.

She was investigating an old shut down sewer system underneath Gotham, Bruce had asked her to and she went just to prove to him that there was nothing there, turns out there was. She stumbled upon a false wall and soon finds herself in an underground room that somewhat resembles an old government hall, everyone but her wearing those same white owl masks and looking at her.

“There is an intruder, deal with this vermin-“

“No wait!”

There is a split second where everything stops closing in on her when someone yells out to leave her alone and she feels so dizzy, she was so focused on providing Bruce was wrong that she forgot to prepare for if he was right, including failing to recognize that those old abandoned sewer lines she walks down were filled with an invisible gas to deal with intruders.

One person in an owl mask catches her body before she falls unconscious, and they feel warm, they feel so safe…

When she wakes up, she is in a white padded room like one you would see in an insane asylum and her arms and legs are all tied up and soon enough that door to the room open and that same man in an owl mask who caught her walks in, and she is ready to rip him apart until he reaches up and removes the mask…

It’s Tim…

He looks guilty, telling her she was never supposed to find out and how he feels horrible about this and how-

Then she ask if he is going to let her go…

He pauses, looks down at her, and smiles…

“Let you go? Why would I do that, silly? Just because I didn’t want it to happen like this doesn’t mean I didn’t want this to happen at all. No, this is for your own good, no need to worry about you running around and hurting yourself playing hero, you’re safe here where I can keep you.”

[talesfromawannabewriter]

Owl in a cage

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

Lucifer rhythmically tapped his long fingers against the smooth surface of where he was sitting. The meeting was soon to begin as more and more angels filled the chamber.

He didn’t know what this was about but apparently it was urgent. As well as fundamentally important. At least according to his sister it was when she came to his chambers to deliver the news herself.

His presence was needed and she would not say more as to why. Something about it being a pleasant surprise or along the lines of it. Personally he was glad for and annoyed by this interference from his work.

Some time ago he had been given the task by his father to help create the flora and fauna for this new little planet. Lucifer thought it was a waste of his time and his magic.

Creating something so mundane, so idiosyncratic, so little. It brought him no joy whatsoever. He just didn’t understand why his father found any joy with this at all.

However, a task was still a task. He was almost finished all he needed to do was finish the last few ideas, send them to his father, and then he’ll never have to think about the insignificant, little planet ever again.

Finally he didn’t have to wait any longer as the last few angels arrived. His sister, Sera, addressed his siblings and him.

Sera: Brothers, sisters, I call this meeting bearing great news. As many of you know our father has spent time creating the planet called Earth.

The orb below them glowed to life showing the topic in question. A few of the younger angels, who hadn’t seen it before awed at it. Lucifer rolled his eyes at their reaction.

Sera: He along with the efforts of Lucifer have been filling the planet with many wonders.

A few angels lightly applauded for Lucifer. That got the Angel of light to sit up a little bit. A proud smile gracing his face.

It felt nice to be appreciated for his efforts.

Sera: In fact, this meeting is in part about Lucifer. Or at least a new task for him.

Lucifer’s smile fell as a curious look masked on instead. Suddenly a bright light entered the room, and everyone immediately bowed to it. Everyone but Lucifer that was.

"GREETINGS MY CHILDREN, LUCIFER, I HAVE NEWS OF THE UTMOST IMPORTANCE. IT IS CONCERNING ABOUT THE NEWEST PLANET. I HAVE DECIDED TO ADD ONE FINAL INHABITANT OF EARTH. IN FACT, THIS SPECIES WILL EVENTUALLY RULE THE WORLD."

Murmurs and whispers echoed throughout the chamber. Everyone was shocked beyond belief by this announcement. Even the neutral expression that Lucifer tried to uphold shattered for a split second.

"DO NOT BE AFRAID MY CHILDREN THESE BEINGS SHALL BE GOOD. THEY SHALL NOT BE VICIOUS AND RULE WITHOUT MERCY BUT INSTEAD CHERISH AND CARE FOR THE EARTH. THAT IS WHAT I SIMPLY MEAN."

He brought forth an image with a wave of his hand and it was the silhouette of a creature. A creature that looked eerily like certain angels. Maybe like him Lucifer supposed

Only this creature had no wings whatsoever.

"I AM CALLING THIS CREATURE, A HUMAN. THE HUMANS SHALL INHERIT THE EARTH AND CARE FOR IT. THEY SHALL RESIDE IN THE GARDEN OF EDEN."

Lucifer remembers the little garden that his father was so fond of. He never saw the appeal; it was simply plants and animals.

"I SHALL CREATE THE FIRST HUMAN TOMORROW MORNING AT DAWN IN THE GARDEN. I WISH FOR YOU ALL TO WITNESS THE BEGINNING OF AN ERA OF NEW LIFE. ESPECIALLY YOU LUCIFER."

His father turned and stared straight at Lucifer.

What he said next would forever change his destiny.

"MY SON, MY ANGEL OF LIGHT AND MUSIC, I KNOW THAT THERE HAS BEEN LONELINESS IN YOUR HEART FOR SOME TIME MAYBE EVEN A BIT OF MELANCHOLY. THAT IS WHY I HAVE DECIDED TO GIFT YOU THE VERY FIRST PARTNER. A PARTNER WHO YOU SHALL LOVE AND WITH THAT LOVE HELP MULTIPLY AND FILL THE EARTH."

Lucifer felt as if a sword was shoved into his gut.

[a-friendly-fangirl]

"I Can't Hear It Now" is a CaitVi song (and I can prove it)

Ok, I know how this might sound, like I'm trying to make everything CaitVi related and I have no respect for Cait's loss and her feelings.

I promise though, that this might actually make sense... and if it does, then it's gonna be heartbreaking.

FIrst of all, I'd like to say that Freya Ridings' "I Can't Hear It Now" has been my favourite song since the very beginning of Arcane's second season, shattering my soul in enough pieces to make a challenging puzzle. The words and the way they're sung are heartfelt and moving, taking us through the kaleidoscope of feelings Cait experiences during her mother's funeral.

I'm a sucker for good music adding meaning to a show and its scenes and Arcane is exactly the kind of show that'd do that, so I've been eager to fully explore each song in the show's context, starting with this one.

When I first listened to it, I immediately thought that it was Caitlyn pleading Cassandra for guidance through her grief and her sense of guilt, because, as Cait herself admits, her mother left a huge hole in Piltover's political scene and in her own family and she has no clue as to how deal with it.

"Just tell me how to keep breathing while pretending I'm not drowning" seemed to me as something one would ask to their parent, were they a person with an important political role, having to constantly keep up appearances. Caitlyn, young and in mourning as she is after her mother's death, is also left alone to face publicly the loss, because her father is clearly in no condition to do that and she doesn't know what she's supposed to do to be a good replacement for both of her parents. I think everyone would understand, if she were to pray her deceased mother for help.

With time, though, I started rethinking my whole interpretation, because a few elements seemed off. Two are the ones that matter the most:

To be a song about a Piltovan dealing with grief by conversing with her lost one, it would've been weirdly spiritual. Although I don't know much about the city's lore, a quick research clarified that Piltover doesn't seem to have an official religion or religious belief and, in my experience, talking to a deceased person and asking them for guidance is something deeply rooted in spirituality and religion. Of course, when mourning everyone can talk to their lost ones as a form of coping mechanism, but in the song it is explicitly stated that the person Caitlyn is talking to can see her (Where you watch while these dreams gently float away), which is something we never hear from her. Caitlyn, actually, believes exactly on the contrary, which is that her mother has left a duty she doesn't know how to fulfill and she can't turn to her to find her way; in fact, she never appeals to Cassandra in any fashion. She remembers her, probably wonders whether she's proud of her or not, but she never reaches out to her directly. Long story short, then, the lyrics seem directed more to a living person than to a dead one;

Some lines simply don't apply to Cassandra. Look, I know I shouldn't take every word literally, but here some things wouldn't make any sense anyway. Like the way your voice always sounds when you sing to me doesn't appear to me as a line I could ever imagine Cait addressing to her mother. Cassandra, even though she wasn't a terrible mother, was still an estimated Councillor and head of one of Piltover's richest and strongest families. She raised her daughter hoping some day she'd take over and sit proudly on her seat at the Council table. Caitlyn was educated as an aristocrat without wanting to be one ("I know you doubt the merit of your birthright, Caitlyn"), which sparked several arguments between them. Cassandra, despite loving her daughter, could never fully accept or understand her and her upbringing and position probably made everything worse. In other terms, Cassandra wasn't probably the kind of mum that'd sing Caitlyn lullabies. Also, again, the verb is conjugated in the present tense, as if the person addressed in the song was still alive. Just tell me how to keep breathing while pretending I'm not drowning sounded pretty odd to me as well. While it is undoubtly true that Cassandra was probably a professional pretender because of her social position, what Caitlyn is asking for is something much deeper: she's asking to be pulled out from a black hole of sorrow and hatred. It takes experience to put on a good poker face when given such a challenge and, even if we don't know much about Cassandra herself, I could guess that she'd have lacked that sort of knowledge.

Going briefly back to the funeral scene, we can all recall that, while Cassandra and Caitlyn were both in colour, there was also another character highlighted as the heart of that moment: Vi. Vi, who, as it is made perfectly clear through the whole second season, is Caitlyn's anchor. She's the person she relies on the most, starting a war to save her father and letting go of the person she despises the most for her. She goes through her plan with her, asking her what Jinx's fate should be. Vi's the person she turns to when she feels like breaking down instead of her own dad. In other words, in such a desperate moment, if Caitlyn needed someone to talk to, she'd go to Vi.

And that's when the song starts making even more sense:

. There is an ocean so dark down below the waves/ Where you watch while these dreams gently float away: while Caitlyn's saying goodbye to her mother, Vi... watches. Almost like a worried guardian, she keeps her distance while empathising with her girl's feelings, literally watching while their dreams of peace, love and freedom leave with the coffin;

. And there is a silence so soft it's only memory/ Like the way your voice always sounds when you sing to me: this is such a CaitVi thing to me. Do you remember the wind chimes scene? Her thought of Jinx makes the wind grow furious just like her, while the thought of Vi calms her down. When Cait is tormented by the terrifying noise of Jinx's laughter breaking the silence, Vi comes in and restores it. It's no accident that the only music we can hear in the end is Vi's singing, a soft humming;

. But I can't hear it now/ Just tell me how to keep breathing while pretending I'm not drowning: to enjoy silence and not feel suffocated by it, your mind must be at peace. At the very beginning of the season, Cait's isn't. Her anger, her sense of guilt scream loud enough to drown Vi's voice. Still, Caitlyn turns to her, because Vi's the only person in her life that knows what she's going through. In fact, when Caitlyn's losing it, because she has no idea of how to fill the hole left by Cassandra, it is Vi that replies: "It gets smaller, but you never fill it".

So here it is, I rest my case.

[suzukiblu]

In "you're a real katch" I'm a bit stuck on how no one's noticed Superboy supposedly having visited Superman but having no memory of it and etc with Match impersonating him. I do feel like what's going down now should reveal that one cause this is a bit of a major thing to miss.

I'm overthinking this.

I am enjoying Match getting comfort and etc.

This clone needs therapy

This clone needs SO much therapy, hahaha.

I absolutely also overthink, lol, you are not alone, friend. So my thought process with Matching going repeatedly unclocked by Clark starts with Match only supposed to have done these visits/drop-ins a handful of times spread out OVER time, and is probably also counting times where he was passing for Kon long-term and no one found out 'til later, so it wouldn't typically be a super-regular thing with a ton of chances for Clark to notice anything weird.

Historically Match only HAS gotten clocked as "Not Actually Kon", like, MAYBE twice that I can recall--once by Tana, who got him pretty much cold, and once by Tim and Cissie when the Agenda had him start yelling about INCREDIBLY out of character for Kon shit on national television (after weeks if not MONTHS of NOT previously clocking him), and if it's happened any other times that weren't deliberate reveals I don't know about 'em. Even KON wasn't sure if Match wasn't an alternate version of him during the whole Suicide Squad thing! Hell, even MATCH wasn't, though like, obvi that was Amanda Waller's fault, but still canon! Still counts, haha!

In general Match is depicted as being REAL convincing at passing for Kon to the point that even deliberate acts of sabotage he commits in the process look like shit that people could genuinely believe Kon would do/"mistakes" that people could genuinely believe Kon would make. Plus there's also the fact that, well, you don't always talk about every time you've seen each other with someone, you know? And even when you do sometimes you just say "the last time I/you came over" or "when I saw you the other day" and "no I forget, what'd you say it was?" or "uhhhhh dude that was like a month ago, remind me?" or just things along those lines. So they weren't meant to be particularly memorable visits or anything, just like, "normal" interactions Clark would be used to having with Kon every now and then, and not necessarily involving any topics that would come across as suspicious for Kon to know/ask about.

And like, if nothing else, Clark has ALSO gotta be used to having a better memory than literally everyone he knows ( and the fact that just about everyone has a WAY worse and more easily-influenced memory than they think they do ), so I don't think he'd necessarily tweak to having to remind someone about something he might've just mentioned in passing as unusual in his life experience. Especially since all extremely dedicated human-passing efforts aside, Clark still probably doesn't have the most accurate grasp of how much a normal memory would hold onto, given how wildly those can vary from person to person and how much harder that is to objectively learn/observe than shit like, how to flinch and what struggling to lift something looks like and what temperatures should be uncomfortable/painful.

And like, final finishing move: no offense to Kon, but historically he does not have the BEST track record at always fully grasping/understanding what Clark has said to him and has misunderstood or misinterpreted him MORE than once, so if Kon ever got confused about something "they" already talked about, it would not REMOTELY be an outlier to either him or Clark, haha.

[forthegothicheroine]

You folks seem to be biting, so here goes.

Checkmate Lincolnites is a webseries about debunking pro-Confederate "Lost Cause" pseudohistory. The first episode started off as youtuber (and horror filmmaker) Andrew Rakich making fun of obnoxious commenters on his history videos, but later episodes became more involved and in-depth. At this point, the characters of Billy Yank and Johnny Reb solidified, a pair of homoerotic frenemies who are either military history buffs or actual Union and Confederate soldiers, depending on what's funnier for a given joke. Importantly, while Johnny Reb still reads objectively (and often comically) wrong arguments from the comment section, he's supposed to be the kind of person who was taught a bunch of lies which he's invested in due to his pride, but who knows slavery is wrong and doesn't want to think of himself as racist.

And then at the end, the series turns into what Billy Yank calls "a Sam Raimi movie." Andrew Rakich is, remember, a horror filmmaker whose favorite movie is Ravenous.

The dark horror comedy finale is where the overt folk horror stuff comes in which initially prompted me to make this post. Dark magic brings an army of the undead crawling out of their graves to try to reestablish their old ways, and the heroes gain an uncomfortable ally in The Witchfinder General of the Colony of Massachusetts Bay (that's his name), who would be a villain in any other folk horror movie but just in this one specific case happens to be right about there being demons and necromancy afoot. (He's far less evil than Vincent Price's Witchfinder General, but has killed a lot of innocent people and communes with a bloodthirsty supernatural being who claims to be Jesus but sure doesn't seem like it.)

But if we want to get philosophical about folk horror, it's rooted in the series from the very premise. Johnny Reb stands in for people who were brought up with pro-Confederate beliefs by their communities, and as Billy Yank points out in the episode "Is Civil War History Being Rewritten?", those communities were founded along pretty straightforwardly cultish lines. Learning about the catechisms written and taught by groups like the Sons of Confederate Veterans or Daughter of the Confederacy, recited at annual celebrations, at least one of which calls upon "the god of Jeff Davis" is seriously chilling. If folk horror draws upon fears of the Bad Old Ways, then look no damn further.

As Billy Yank finally explodes at Johnny:

"You think I'm the bad guy? No! I'm coddling you, like the big fucking baby you are, trying to gently COAX you into the 21st century before the people behind me fucking DRAG you there! People think you are a FUCKING JOKE, Johnny! You've been discredited time and again, your monuments are coming down, your staunchest advocates are doddering old fools and pretty soon, they're gonna be in the fuckinig ground!"

What would it take to break someone out of that kind of old time religion? His very ancestral heroes appearing before him as grotesque monsters to gloat that everything bad he's heard about them is true? Or would even that not be enough?

In true horror fashion, Johnny can only see the truth once it's too late.

(But thankfully, going by the comments saying these videos broke people out of the Lost Cause beliefs they'd been taught, it wasn't too late for everyone.)

I wonder if I can convincingly argue that the Checkmate Lincolnites series is folk horror.

[dykedvonte]

I think the most baffling thing about the Tulpar as a vessel to me is the fact that the ship really did only have a one way communication system.

I know it was cheap but even the most basic of vessels regarding major transport would have some way, shape or form for outside communication. Not only that but there was absolutely no form of innate emergency signal to show they may have been offline or in trouble despite clearly having a system to dock credits if they went off course. It's another factor that really shows that bad situations are made to get worse by design. One person who is required to relay all information to the crew and make all the choices without feedback. No way to update or call for help in case of a dire situation. No way to inform of inner personal conflicts and acquire procedures accordingly.

It really is like they are all in some sort of fucked up solitary confinement. They have their own world with strict roles that are meaningless in the end, as long as the cargo makes it, it doesn't matter what happens on that ship to the company. They don't want to hear anything and will come to conclusions on what happened based on how much pay they can withhold from the workers. Even what they do send is short, sterile and corporate to the extent it was likely written and sent out with a command by some random unmanned computer in an office.

There's something to be said about how unfair it is to force absolute power and control onto one person when you as an entity could do so much more to offload it but I've said it many times before so I won't again.

[ineffablefool]

How the hell is all this acrylic paint that I bought for a class I signed up for in 2004 (not a typo) still wet?

[synonymroll648]

absolutely evil fic idea! sophitz soulmates au where post-war they reconcile but also find out that fitz won't make it to 100 due to the severity of his shadowflux echoes and the reason sophie kept surviving seemingly impossible odds was because the black swan 'accidentally' made her immortal.

to make things extra cruel: consider how fitz canonically counts on having thousands of years ahead of him to build himself a future he enjoys, and how sophie canonically struggles w/ the idea of living forever due to her human upbringing (plus the canon-compliant possibility of her hearing ten bajillion tales growing up of how immortality is a curse) :D

[madamechrissy]

Baby You're No Good

Pairings - Cult leader/clan Leader Geto x F! reader

Summary - You have been promised to marry the psychotic, human hating leader of the Geto Clan, Suguru. Your heart sinks at the wedding when you realize you're likely to be ended once you've fulfilled your duty, giving him an heir. He detests you on sight, as do you, but something happens the first time you lay together, Suguru swears you're some witch, because he can't get enough of you. He becomes consumed with fucking you, with the excuse of 'having an heir' but you begin to wonder just where the lines are blurring. Would you survive this- and will Suguru survive being with you?

CW- Arranged marriage trope, ENEMIES TO LOVERS, psychotic Geto lol- lots of hate sex, Suguru calling you a stupid monkey, angsty in places, FULL of smut. Reader is a virgin bc she's sheltered due to been promised to him. Reader is FEISTY asf and mean right back. Explicit sex and Geto being whipped/insane/obsessed and an ass. This part- fingering, fucking, loss of virginity, masturbation (suguru) finger sucking, hate sex, light angst. WC this part- 6.4k

Will be three parts or so <3 Plz share/comment/ like if you enjoy!!

Masterlist - Playlist - Part Two>>> Based on Clan Leader Geto

Part One

You were to marry Suguru Geto, curse user, rumored cult leader, and clan leader to the major four clans there were. The Kamos, The Zenin, The Gojos and The Getos, the main four clans that you all know there are. As for Suguru’s family, it turns out he is now the clan leader for them, he is the one that they are now riding the whole line of the Geto Clan on.

Marrying you.

You stand there nervously, tummy feeling sick in your pretty white robes as you stare at this psychotic man, this man that thinks people without power are lesser, and perhaps worthless. Perhaps he wishes to eradicate you all, yet for his duty to the Geto clan, it leaves him to have to be with you, the chosen one from your family, for as long as you two were alive.

Maybe Suguru Geto back then was tolerable, back when he was just a clan leader and not all the rumors that are held, but now!? Being his bride was not just terrifying, it was a literal death sentence. After you’d given him heirs you were absolutely sure he’d eradicate you and perhaps anyone you’ve ever known and loved, including your family, who’d just given you the saddest of looks.

They weren’t here, you supposed even they couldn’t live with just handing their only daughter off to him, maybe before, you’d have been excited, remembering meeting him when you were just a teenager, he was a little older than you. Handsome and sweet with this smile that made you want to pinch his cheeks, he was so courteous and sweet, but that was a different man.

You look now, as you nervously step down the aisle, eyes of everyone on you aside from him, Suguru Geto. He’s decked out in brilliant emerald robes, laughing and murmuring to several girls near him. His long black hair is half up, showcasing his handsome features, yes if perhaps he wasn’t a psycho killer, you could find him attractive, not be sick to your stomach.

As some long red headed lady taps his shoulder, her long nails against him, he finally sees you then, and his jaw locks, you feel those violet eyes on you like a physical touch. You doubt he remembers your one meeting years ago, you doubt he recognizes you or cares, or sees you as anything but a nuisance, a duty. But you see his narrowed eyes dip down your body, taking you in.

Your heart hammers as you get closer, a mix of sorcerers scowling or smirking at you, along with the Geto clan looking curiously, murmuring here and there. Everyone hoped to stay on Suguru Geto’s good side, if he had one, you weren’t quite sure, feeling the insane energy emanating from him as he studies you. Another step, another click of your heel echoing in the immaculate hall.

It’s hard to be impressed with the beauty of it, of the Geto estate, surely it’s one of the nicest there are, there are four major families, and the Geto family is one. You don’t know how you ended up being selected, your family is certainly wealthy, but you wonder at your horrific luck now as you stand before him.

You have to lean your head back just to look at the tall man, towering over everyone in the room, he makes you feel so small, even smaller with his quiet assessment, as the room is full of hushed whispers. Half of them surely want you to just die, half of them want an heir from you, you imagine this man in front of you leaning down wants both.

Suguru eyes you carefully, yes you’re beautiful, but you clearly have not an ounce of power, not an ounce of any useful energy. You’re clearly just some pathetic little mortal, which disgusts him, you’re tiny and pathetic, useless. He’s so annoyed this is what he has to do, but he certainly can’t just not fulfill these obligations, as Suguru needs the backing of his family to gain more power.

Already so powerful, and with an enormous, loyal following, he detests that he has to in any way deal with his parents still, but he supposes he will handle it for now. Surely soon he’d have the precious few mortals he allows to live, to be loyal servants at his beck and call, pathetic ants that work for their lives he allows them.

Your eyes lower nervously, lashes casting shadows on your cheeks, lights of the soft chandelier hanging above you glittering on your smooth skin. He feels it, you’re terrified, which makes him smirk just a bit, as you should know your place, under him, beneath him, perhaps he can handle you if you’ll be just a little docile. You are pleasing enough to look at.

Something familiar stirs when you look back at him, with eyes glimmering with unshed tears, your lower lip caught in your row of upper teeth. He remembers it like a fog, being at Jujutsu high with his best friends, right before he started to realize how horrible humans were, God he’d been so naive then. Your families introduced you two, but you were young.

He remembers thinking you were pretty, being just a little shy actually, which is so laughable now. You’d met Satoru then too, and he could swear you’d made eyes on him, on his old best friend who now is his enemy, which hurts Suguru in many, many ways, as having Satoru back on the right side, his side. There was no denying Satoru was the strongest, but Suguru was coming for him.

He smiles a bit as he thinks of it, and his pretty face looks terrifying for a moment, making your breath catch, as the priest begins the ceremony, and Suguru rips his eyes from you. You eye black gauged earrings, alone with some little barbell in his eyebrow, details that almost make him seem like a human, but you suppose those are just from long ago.

Suguru feels Manami’s long nails against his back, he turns and smirks at her, ignoring the pretty, but pathetic human in front of him. Manami and him have long hooked up together, though Suguru partakes in many women, she seems to be the main one by his side. Just this morning she’d sucked him off, he had not been in any sort of mood however to do more.

Knowing he’d have to fulfill his stupid duties were irritating him to know end, and no amount of sucking was fixing his shitty mood. He also sees the girls he truly sees as his real daughters, Mimiko and Nanako whispering about the bride just a bit. He errantly thinks he hears ‘pretty’ but he remembers how young they are, and what he keeps them a bit sheltered from still.

They didn’t know all of his plans yet, they were just girls still.

“You may kiss the bride.” Suguru hears errantly, he sighs, leaning down and pressing his lips against yours, hopefully the only time he’ll have to, but something literally jolts through his body as he does. He pulls back, glaring down at you, gripping your wrist, tiny in his massive grip, making you wince a bit, looking up at him with frightened eyes.

“Do you have any cursed energy!?” He demands, narrowing those intense eyes of his, you step back, shaking your head quickly.

“You know I do not. Why ask?” You whisper, he grabs your wrist even tighter, sensing every bit of your body, finding nothing. Why then, had he felt that!? Some odd shock through his system!?

He’d never kiss you again, it is quite annoying.

As the ceremony goes, and Suguru has many people around him, including some redhead you notice is all over him, you come across two little girls, who you’ve been informed are like daughters to Suguru. They both study you curiously, the little blond with pigtails smiling at you.

“You’re just a human, right?” She says, and you nod, shyly.

“Does it… suck to have no powers?” The little brunette says, and you sigh.

“Honestly, no. I don’t want all of that responsibility I guess? Do you all…” They both hold balls of energy, and you step back, heart racing as they giggle.

“Girls, not at the ceremony.” You’re almost shocked to hear him sound- kind, affectionate?- from across the room, chuckling a bit.

“Fine, dad.” They speak at the same time you notice, then they bombard you with more and more questions, while Suguru watches curiously, Manami murmuring things she’d do to him in his ear, as the other members start to dance. Someone dances with you, then, and Suguru…

Well he doesn’t fucking like it.

Why!? You’re nothing really.

When you’re finally done in the ceremony, and you’ve been dressed in some dainty little see through slip, you feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment, as they finally leave after slathering you in fragrant oil, brushing your hair till it gleamed. You eye yourself in the mirror nervously, seeing the color on your cheeks, the way your eyes look so… frightened really.

Being promised to Suguru meant being sheltered, and aside from making out and some touching when you could sneak out, you were indeed a virgin, and having your first time with a dude who wants to kill you just doesn’t sound fun. You sure wouldn’t let him see how afraid you were, not when he walks into the room, a goblet of wine in his hand, sighing and shutting the door.

You’re tense as he eyes your, thin transparent material showcasing your curves, the nip of your waist, the just of your hips, and most tantalizingly the swell of your breasts. His breath catches at just how good you do look, his cock twitching in response, irritating him to no end.

Perhaps this is just his stupid body’s response, but he does not get attracted to humans, they disgust him, even the pretty ones. But you are… exceptionally sexy right now, could it be all the wine, could it be that he saw you before he changed? Suguru shoves all those thoughts back, gulping down the rest of the red wine now, a drip falling from the corner, and you’re just standing there.

“Let’s get this over with.” He mumbles, and you glare then, making him smirk but also making his cock even more full of blood.

“Let’s, I don’t want this any more than you.” You mumble, unlacing the ribbons over your gown then, and he’s irritated at how bad his hands itch to take it off you, instead raising a brow.

“Oh I doubt that, at least you get to fuck me, someone with power. I am the one that has to fuck a pathetic monkey.” Your scowl deepens, as he unlaces his belt, letting his robes fall, and you see his perfect body, well formed pecs and cut abdomen, lines and swirls of tattoos all over his body, even on his corded arms.

You falter for only a moment, because his body is literally perfect, down to the trail of dark hair below his flat belly button, but you quickly shove all that out, ignoring the way your body is reacting to just seeing him. “Monkey, huh, is that what you call humans?”

“Sure is, pathetic monkeys, lesser developed and-” He pauses when your dress falls in a silky pool to your ankles, and you stand there naked fully, his heart dropping into his damn stomach.

His cock is leaking precum just staring at you, god you’re fucking beautiful, so beautiful he doesn’t think he can put a word to it. It’s as if his cock doesn’t recognize you’re some pathetic human, neither do hands that itch to touch, and his tongue that wants to just lick you.

Fuck you’re annoying.

Why are you built like this!? Your perfect tits alone are making him ache for you so badly he can hardly breathe, as they rise and fall with your own nervous breaths, and you look right at him, boldly. Suguru tries to avert his eyes, to play it off in any way, but he’s awestruck, lips parted, as he watches you cross your arms under those breasts, sees a hint of a pussy he wants to bury himself inside.

Fuck if you were just… if you just had some powers, he’d have so much fun with you, god he’d tell you how pretty you were. He’d make you cum on his mouth over and over, feel you gripping his long locks, but he can’t because you’re… you’re nothing, really, just a monkey… he has to remember.

You see red lining his perfect cheekbones, making you curious at him until he clears his throat, averting his eyes and releasing his hair, letting it cascade over broad shoulders. “Let’s just… get it done.” You murmur then, sitting on the futon now, decked with reds and golds in the luxurious room they had made for the two of you.

That’s when Suguru sees your perfect little pussy, making him bump into the side table, you blink a bit, curiously at him, thighs spread as you rest on your elbows. He cannot even function, you are so perfect he hates it, surely there is something about you, some energy they’re missing, there is no way that you’re a human, with such effects on him!?

He lets his pants fall as he tries to pull himself together, and that’s when you see him, rock hard and thick, far, far too many inches. You panic, wondering just how the fuck that’s gonna fit, you’d had fingers inside you that hurt a bit before, this was probably gonna wreck you. You almost shut your thighs, watching his reddened tip drool pearly drops of precum.

Sheltered but not stupid, he was clearly ready. You raise a brow. “You seem pretty… ready for such a monkey in front of you, hmm?”

Suguru glares now, grabbing you by the hair, cock near your face, you wonder if he’ll shove it in your mouth wildly, but he’s just pulling at your hair, making you gasp out in pain, as he tilts your head back. “Do you even know what to do, pathetic little fucking monkey!?”

“I haven’t before, no.” You whisper then, and he pauses, gulping down some horrible sense of guilt. Not only has he not been with a virgin, he knows he’s clearly not your choice for this.

What is it that's making him feel so much?

He hates it. He hates you.

Is it the fact that he can see you’re afraid, he lays with women who coo over him, who are soaking wet as he just smiles at them, women who drop to their knees if he snaps his fingers. He doesn’t want to hurt you, but he shouldn’t care, right? What are humans to a sorcerer?

“I know you need an heir, so just… put it in me.” You say, he chuckles then, shaking his head as he shoves you back on the bed, bouncing just slightly when he rests over you on an elbow, sucking on two fingers then.

It’s so lewd, how his mouth wraps the thick digits, his cheeks hollowing as he sucks on them, before he sinks two right in your tight little cunt, making you gasp at the stretch, and making him exhale, holding back a moan. You’re so tight, clenching him, your gummy little walls convulsing, making him picture just how good you’ll feel around his cock.

“Do you have to!? Just get it in.” You whisper, and he glares down at you, lips parted at your utter lack of knowledge and insolent mouth.

“I can’t, you’re too tight, stupid monkey.” You glare and shove at his chest, only making him chuckle more. “You think I wanna prep or even touch you?”

“You think I w-want those or that in me!? No, just do it. Stop that… touching me inside… mnh!” At the sound of your own moan you cover your mouth, gasping as your eyes shoot up to his, he tilts his head, long silky hair falling like a curtain to the side of you both, as he presses on that spot again.

This time your eyes roll back, and he knows he’s found it, that spot in your pretty pussy that is just a little spongier, as your cunt starts drooling, and his cock has to press against the bed, for any pressure. Not only do you feel so good, so wet, you’re also fucking gorgeous as your head falls back, eyes fluttering shut, and he looks down at the mess you’re making.

“Messy little thing, tsk.” He says then, and you’re struggling to form a word when he puts his fingers back in, building pressure in your tummy that feels far too good, making you hate him more. “Hear her, huh? Monkey that excited?”

“D-don’t hear shit, don’t even l-like it.” You manage to utter out, and he’s smirking down at you, kissing down your breasts far too fondly, moaning as your walls are fluttering around his fingers, sucking a pretty, puffy nipple in his mouth. “Just fuck me, would you?”

“It will hurt you… I-” You pause, blinking as he leans up from licking and biting your breasts, little trails of saliva, as you look at him with wide eyes.

“What do you care, you don’t need me to like it to give me an heir. Just get it done so I can go to sleep.”

Your words hit him then, why does he care? Suguru could slaughter a village but can’t imagine fucking you without preparing you properly, fuck he wanted you to like it, to want him. And why!?

“You won’t be able to take me, tiny pathetic little cunt can’t.” You scowl as he sucks on a nipple again, scissoring his fingers in your cunt now, making lewd squishing sounds as you feel you’re soaked, mortifying you.

“Stop sucking on them, you don’t need to.” You shove him again, and he glares, leaning over you now, intimidating as he curls slick fingers, making you gasp in pleasure, biting your lower lip hard so you don’t scream out how good it is.

“If I must breed you, I’ll do it how I wish to. Stop acting as if you can tell me what to do.”

“I hate you.” You smack him then, earning a psychotic glare, and you realize fuck you’ve messed up, as he takes his fingers out of your pussy and shoves them right in your mouth, making you choke on them.

“Will you shut up, stupid monkey, fuck.” He’s then lining up his cock with your entrance, shoving your thighs up high. “Fine then, wanna get it over with, huh?”

You nod eagerly, hating every second under him, even if your body betrayed you. “Sure do, fucking psycho.”

“Psycho, huh?” You nod again, then gasp in pain as he fills you, stuffing your cunt full in one stroke, making it burn even though you are soaked and prepared somewhat, nothing could really prepare for his huge cock inside you.

“Ah!” You blink back tears, tears that bother him, and they shouldn’t, but now he wants to tenderly brush back your hair, that’s fallen on your brow. He wants to pull back out and prep you more, but you’re an insolent brat who won’t even let him, and he shouldn’t want to.

But your pussy gripping him drives him insane, to the point he could cum in a stroke or two, it’s gripping that fucking good. He can’t take it, he rests his head in the crook of your neck, so you don’t see an already pussy drunk face when he pulls back, shoving his cock even deeper, and feels your nails in his back, digging, hears your little cries of pain.

He wants cries of pleasure.

What the fuck are you doing to him!?

Is it human to have a pussy like this, he wonders, biting back a moan and leaning up, grabbing at one of your thighs to sink deeper, and you hate that it starts to feel good, when he starts fucking into you. Thick cock stretching, as your cunt gushes around him, his tip dragging on some spot that makes your eyes roll back again in pleasure, and this fucker notices.

“She’s fuckin’ soaking my cock, huh? Like it, pathetic little monkey, a sorcerer over you?” You manage to glare, shaking your head, his attractive smirk widening, as he fucks you deeper and harder, and you’re a tremblind mess under him. “Oh no, you don’t hmm?”

“N-no, hate it. Hate you.” He scowls now, as you gulp down moans and cries he’s dying to hear, so he pays attention, to when you’re gasping, clamping down, realizing the spot and angle you’re dying over, so Suguru grins down at you, lifting your thighs up so high he slams your cervix. “Ah!”

“There it is.” He whispers to himself, pressing on the backs of your thighs and slamming your cervix, over and over, as you’re moaning so sexy, your back arching, while he’s folding you damn near in half now. “F-fuck… you feel so…” He stops himself, he can’t say that.

It feels so perfect.

Feels like you’re made to take his cock.

You’re so pretty under him, perspiration on your forehead, eyebrows scrunched, lips red from you biting them, your eyes glazed over. God you’re gorgeous, as his cock is throbbing inside your tight walls, and you’re struggling so hard to act like you hate it, when he’s hitting that spot over and over, his tip dragging on it again and again. You moan out loud, whining when he rolls his hips bottoming out.

“J-just cum, finish it. W-wanna be d-done.” You whisper, he glares now at you.

“Not enjoying it at all?”

“Hate it. B-boring.” Suguru laughs now, shaking his head, slamming into you, and you’re screaming out, convulsing, feeling pressure build and build, realizing with a panic then.

You’re gonna cum.

Not for him, dammit!

You struggle to hold back, shaking your head and covering your face, when he lets your thighs fall to the side, yanking your hands off your face, pinning your wrists above your head with a strong hand, long fingers wrapping your delicate wrists like they’re nothing. You gasp at it, as his other hand yanks you by your hip, slamming you down his length.

“I’ll look upon your face.” He says through his teeth, dying to watch it when you cum, and fuck he feels it, you’re so close. He wants it then, he needs it, you to cum all over him, milking him so good, and your eyes go wide in shock, but they’re already so fucked out. He’s leaking precum inside you, dragging on that spot and watching you unravel for him.

“Why do y-you wanna- mnh, f-fuck!” You’re clinging to the sheets, when Suguru would like you to cling to him, as he sends you over the fucking edge, and he watches your gorgeous face screw up in pleasure, making his cock pulse.

Fuck you’re pretty.

Fuck he hates you for doing this.

He’s never even felt anything better than this.

“Can’t help yourself, huh monkey? Gonna cum all over my cock, aren’t you?” He whispers, you shake your head, still pinned under him, and he lays over you, grinding his cock inside you, dark hair on his pelvis just pressing on your neglected clitoris, then you feel it, and he moans. “There it is.”

“No, no, no… f-fuck you… hate… ah!” You’re shattering, cumming so hard you can’t even see, all while this psycho watches avidly, and you hate him more for it, for giving you this orgasm that almost makes you faint. “Sh-shit… mnh…”

Your cunt soaks his cock as the orgasm wrecks your brain, as you’re convulsing around his thick veiny cock, with its tip pressing into your cervix, and you’re twitching under him, pathetic. You gasp as he fucks you through it, disoriented and blinking rapidly at how euphoric you feel, listening to the grunts and groans of his and the squelching of your cunt.

“Oh my… f-fuck…” Suguru groans now, unable to hold back any longer, violet eyes so dilated they look black as they drink in your face, lips hovering over yours, cock fucking harder and harder.

You almost cum again, clenching around him, as he moves over you, stuttering in his rhythm finally, faltering just a bit, gripping you tightly as he moans out, his breath hot against your lips, lips he wants to kiss, a mouth he wants to spit inside, tongue he wants to feel on his skin. You’re maddening, he realizes then, as he gets closer to his release, his cock throbbing at your pussy milking him so good.

“Mnh… shit I hate… you…” You whisper, as you’re cumming again, and he grips your wrists so hard they’ve gone numb, starting to pump hot loads of cum inside, you, groaning out loud at how good it feels.

“Milking me, shit… f-feels so fucking perf-” Suguru holds it back, luckily you’re too fucked out to care, as his cum fills you, so hot and gooey, and you’re both gasping for breaths, the room quiet save front he sounds of his cock slipping inside you, and your hearts pounding. “Filled you so fucking good, monkey, hmm?”

“G-good, it’s over…” You whisper, damn near delirious as your aftershocks make your sticky walls grip him, he gasps at it, pumping even more, as he looks into your eyes, feeling too much.

“Y-yes. Over.” He manages to spill out, and you whimper when he kisses your neck, something he shouldn’t indulge in, easing off your wrists and looking at them, his hand left prints clearly.

You ease them down, fingers wresting on his shoulders for a moment, a moment that feels too good, too natural, before you press on him. “Can you go, then?”

“What?” He blinks in confusion, cock still inside of you, fuck he never even wants to leave, so hot and wet and-

“Your seed is inside me, we should be good for now. I’m… sore. Please get off of me.” You look away now, and Suguru’s pulse races, as you refuse to look at him whatsoever when he gets off, easing his cock out of you with a messy pop sound, tensing as he sees the evidence of your innocence between your thighs.

“Let me clean you up.” He murmurs, and you glare, shaking your head and closing your legs then. “Would you just-”

“Fuck you, get out. I don’t need you cleaning me up, we’re good until… I guess whenever we have to do this again.” You stand on wobbly legs, as Suguru stands, looming over you as you head to the shower adjoining the room, grabbing you by the top of your arm. “What!?”

“So eager to run off, monkey? You should thank me.”

You laugh then, ignoring the throb of your pussy and the pounding in your head, fuck him he felt so good in you, you’ve never even felt that good before, not from little orgasms you gave yourself. You hate him more for it, not only did your first time have to be with this ass of a man, a psycho killer, you also came when you didn’t even want to, making it all worse/

“Thank you!? For what!”

“For cumming inside you.” He presses you against the wall then, looming over you so tall, his sweet breath like the grapes of the wine as he grabs your chin, forcing your eyes on his. “For making a monkey like you cum.”

“You didn’t make me cum, stupid psycho.” You glare right at him, chest heaving as you speak the lies, but he laughs right down at you, thumb brushing over a lip with teeth indentations from how hard you bit it.

“Didn’t cum? You’re a fucking liar, on top of being pathetic. Useless.”

“Useless, yes except to have your stupid heir. I can’t wait to get pregnant, actually, so I’ll never have to get touched again.”

“Oh yeah, so fucking horrible?”

“Terrible.”

“And you’re disgusting to me.”

“Good!” You shove at his strong chest, slick with sweat, and pause there then, as does he, a hand now entwined at the nape of your neck, as he dies to kiss you, brutally, over and over, but he just holds you there. “Am I done for the night Lord Geto, or whatever the fuck you like to be called?”

He’d like you to scream Suguru.

Fuck.

“Will you just let me clean you up, it was your first time and-”

“Oh no, you’re not gonna play like you care at all. We did what we had to do, what we both had to do, neither of us wanted it, or enjoyed it. Right?” You demand then, raising a brow, and he scowls.

“Not right, and I’m just-”

“I remember it, meeting you, you were… sweet.”

He laughs then. “What?”

“You were, and him? I’d have been happy to do this, but you? I don’t wanna look at you and think of it. Let me go.” He scowls as he goes to grab his clothes now, and you lean against the wall, covering your face, not wanting him to see just how you are affected by him.

“I’ll be putting a curse at your door, to make sure you don’t run.” He says then, making you blink in shock, seeing he’s dressed finally, putting his hair back up.

“I have nowhere to run to.” He pauses at that, jaw locked. “But go ahead, maybe it’ll be better company than you.”

Suguru scoffs. “Clean up.”

“Get out.” You order, finally he turns, walking out, leaving you to step into the shower, letting the hot spray hit you, sore in places you’ve never imagined, thinking just how much you hate him.

You’re sobbing then, under the coverage of the shower, where no one would see you, see what he’s done to you, your mental state in ruins. You scrub everywhere his elegant fingers touched, everywhere his lush lips kissed, hissing when you wash your sore pussy, looking down at your fingers, finding his cum pouring out of you. Hot, sticky white cum washed by the shower.

Steam fills as you slide down to sit in the shower, resting your head on your knees, hating him so much you can barely breathe. Bad enough he fucked you, why did he have to make you enjoy it, why did he act like he cared for your pleasure, cared for you after even? A lie, all a lie, and it’s the last thing you need. 

You will hate him.

Outside your room, Suguru leans his back against your door, trying to catch his breath, head swirling with you, hands shaking as they brush back his hair. You have him shaking, you annoying, stupid brat of a girl, who wouldn’t even let him try to care for you, at all.

Why’d he want to though? You were right, your duty was fulfilled for the night, he should stop thinking of how he’d love to be in that shower with you, how he’s dying to be back inside you, imagining making you admit how good it felt. He could feel your slick on his cock still, wondering if you feel him pouring out of you, dying to breed you again, again, again.

He detests you.

Summoning a curse, a rather derpy looking one shaped like a bull with several eyes, he plops him next to your door now, this is a docile curse he’s had since his youth, bringing back too many memories. Of being happy, of laughing, of a girl named Riko, right before he’d snapped, her riding this curse on its back as they tried their best to save her.

It proved how disgusting humans were that day, lest he ever forget, his fist clenched as he struggles to gain his resolve, looking down at the creature now. “Guard this door.” It nods, tongue lolling out, Suguru sighs then. “Also make sure you… care for the girl in this room. Yes?”

It nods again, as Suguru does not know if you are safe really, surely no one would go against him, but there is much hatred already for humans, and many, many people hate you. But he wants you to be safe, otherwise he’ll just get another bride thrown on him, and who knows if he’d hate her more.

Suguru ends up in his room now, sighing as he sees Manami there with another woman from his cult, he shakes his head as they try to disrobe him. “No, I am not in any sort of mood for it.”

“But Suguru, it must've been awful.” Manami cooes, and the other girl nods, as they rub up and down his arms, making him feel disgusted.

How?

How do they, powerful women, make him disgusted now? He owes you no loyalty, he did not plan to only be with you, but the thought of anyone but you actually makes him sick. What sort of witchcraft do you possess, some new undetectable kind that he hasn’t figured out, to make him feel like this? Are you some weapon to destroy his fucking plans?

“Go. Now.” Suguru orders then, and they pout as they leave, but Suguru can’t get his mind off you, not when he’s washing you off in the shower, every vivid thought of making you enjoy it fills his mind.

Suguru hates you more when he’s stroking his cock to the thought of you whimpering, begging for him, on your knees with your tongue out. He’s moaning as he pinches his tip, he already came so much but he can’t stop how hard he is, thinking of how your eyes would cross as he fucked your throat, as he came so deep and you swallowed him greedy.

Thinking of you riding him, your tits bouncing right in his face, your thighs squeezing his face as he lapped his cup out of your pussy after. ‘F-fuck, you like it, don’t you’ he’s muttering, wet hair sticking to his back as water pounds down, and he’s stroking his cock faster and faster, eyes shutting, vivid pictures of you everywhere.

‘That’s it, good girl, cumming just for me, mine, aren’t you’ he’s stuttering, saying stupid insane shit, so high off your pussy he can’t even talk himself out of it, not when his big hand strokes his thick shaft over and over.

When Suguru cums again he moans out loud, hunching over and gasping for a breath, hating you more for what you’ve done when his sticky cum pours all out of his hand now. He rinses himself off, shaking his head and covering it with his other hand, realizing jerking off was nothing like cumming inside you, like fucking your perfect little pussy.

Just who the fuck are you?

******

The next day of being Suguru’s wife, you open the door and gasp, seeing some bull shaped creature who’s grinning at you, several eyes wide open as it licks your leg, making you squeak. “What!?”

“He likes you.” Comes Mimiko’s voice, she’s poking around on her phone, and you take a breath, smiling a bit.

Just because Suguru is a psychotic dick, it doesn’t mean you’d take it out on little girls, or oddly cute curses. “Can I pet it?” You ask, and Nanako giggles next to her sister, stepping closer.

“He’s docile.” She pets him then, and the thing damn near purrs, you bend down on your knees now, petting him yourself, sighing.

“He’s kinda cute?” They burst out in laughter, leaving the hall then, as you find the first bit of comfort in one of stupid, psycho Suguru’s curses. “You like me?”

He nods, licking on your cheek, you swipe at it, wincing as it runs off, and suddenly Suguru Geto is standing right in front of you, as you’re just on your knees still, looking up at him. Vivid insane thoughts fill you, as you feel your tummy clench, pussy so sore from him still, thinking of the dreams you’d had of this ass of a man, and now you’re just… there.

He freezes when he sees your hair fall back, loose and flowing, shimmering likely from your shower, and you’re right where he pictured you, what he jerked himself to over and over. The urge to pull out his cock and fuck your pretty face was overwhelming, driving him so insane his cock responds violently, already leaking precum, annoying him to no end.

He’d turned down more women this morning, because now he’s coming to a really annoying realization- he wants you. Only you. He’s blaming his stupid body, for wanting a petty human, but it’s undeniable, while you just blink and look up for a moment, before you clear your throat, standing and grabbing the door way, looking away now.

“Where’d the curse go? I like him.”

“You like him!?”

“Better than you, I was right. He’s cuter.” You smile then, and he glares, grabbing you right by your throat, only making you laugh.

“Who’s the psycho here, me or you?” He whispers, and you grip his wrist now, as he looks how pretty your neck is with his hand around it, as he looks at glossy lips he wants to kiss.

“Gonna kill me before the heir?” You whisper, when he squeezes just so.

“Tempting to do so.” He whispers against your lips, and you come to a very annoying realization of your own, when your nipples tighten, when your pussy drips from him choking you.

You want this psycho.

Just your body, you’ll just blame that, but it’s undeniable, and it makes you despise him more. “Go for it, put me outta my misery. Won’t have to look at you.” You say, he squeezes harder, stepping a little further in the room, as you feel lightheaded, and fucking horny.

What’s wrong with you!?

“Why don’t we work harder on making it happen then?”

“Now!?” You demand, and he shuts the door, smirking, undoing his black robes as you rub your sore neck.

“Now.”

Taglist open for parts two and three if you're not on it already <3 Hope you enjoyed this, I know Geto doesn't hit like my Gojo or Sukuna posts, but I rly tried lol. Can't wait to see what ya'll think!

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[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ how long does it take to fuck your brother's best friend? (four whole days)

synopsis. suguru comes home to visit from college at the same time you do—except he brings satoru along. this is going to be a long break

word count. 8.5k (i am tired of this tomfoolery)

contents. college! au, brother's best friend! satoru, fem! reader, minors do not interact, three-year age gap (you're both early twenties), slightly mean satoru (when you’re kids), slight enemies to lovers, jealous! satoru, mentions of reader having an ex-bf, male masturbation, satoru is taller + carries reader, cunnilingus, fingering, handjobs, unprotected sex, brief mentions of alcohol (satoru), creampie, pet names (baby + sweetheart), not proofread i could not be bothered i’m sorry

notes. this was not supposed to be this long bye i am embarrassingly down bad for the blue-eyed freak

everyone knows that where there is satoru, there is suguru—and likewise, where there is suguru, there is satoru.

they’re a bit of a packaged deal, really. satoru befriends your brother in what you think must be some twisted stroke of luck—there is no way suguru would lower his standards for some rich bastard who’s had life made for him since the day he was born. but apparently, he does, and you’re stuck with a white-haired nuisance in your house at least once a week. for years.

you’ve known satoru since he was a whiny, snot-faced, and spoiled little brat. back then, he used to call you toothless—you were six, it’s normal for children at the age of six to lose a few teeth. just because satoru is nine and has grown his teeth back doesn’t mean he escaped the toothless phase himself—but satoru is just a jerk like that, pushes your buttons, and calls out your insecurities to get a good laugh.

you don’t smile with your mouth open even once around him that summer, not until suguru assures you that regardless of how many teeth you have, you have a lovely smile.

when you’re twelve, puberty does its thing, and now you’re stuck with acne-prone skin—also a normal occurrence for people your age, but satoru makes sure to point out the giant pimple on your forehead every time he sees you. you make sure to let him know his haircut is as awful as his sense of style, and suguru tries his best not to choke himself with his charger as you both bicker.

satoru is gone that entire summer for a family cruise that you’re sure costs double your house—he comes back frighteningly taller than you remember him within the span of just a few weeks.

it’s been like that since you were kids. he comes over, finds a new thing to pick on through his smug grins and smooth chuckles, and you fume as you bite back with just as snarky rebuttals. he makes sure to never cross the line of going too far—it’s more for suguru’s sake, you’re fairly sure—but stays right on the dot of getting just under your skin.

he’s annoying. a jerk. a rich snob. a privileged dickhead. he’s rude and disrespectful, with no tact, let alone any semblance of respect. you don’t understand what could possibly make suguru want to hang around such a douchebag, but suguru cares about satoru—and satoru has always been there for your brother.

you don’t understand it, but you respect it. as long as he doesn’t wet your entire bathroom sink and mirror in the mornings after he stays over, you suppose you can coexist.

but you haven’t seen him in ages—not outside of suguru’s instagram stories and posts. it’s been a long few years since the two of them have left for college, and by the time you leave too, life has its funny way of working, and, well…you don’t bump into him anymore. it doesn’t occur to you that satoru is not the same guy you used to know until you come back home to visit after your second year of college.

“suguru,” you call, “i borrowed your hoodie. but you can have it back—”

you cut yourself off when you open the door to your brother’s room, and lo and behold, stands a very shirtless gojo satoru, the white-haired and blue-eyed asshole you’ve had to deal with since childhood. except he’s way taller than you remember him—just how much does this guy grow, exactly? his shoulders are broader and….and since when did he have abs? there’s a small tattoo just under his collarbone—when did he even get that? his hair is also longer, just enough to fall over his forehead and curtain those striking blue eyes of his.

he looks…well, handsome. very handsome, in fact. dangerously handsome that it catches you by surprise as you blink.

he’s still shirtless, holding his t-shirt in his hands as he grins.

“hey, toothless,” he greets, voice deeper than the last time you heard it—but it still sounds relatively the same. you think you’d always recognize satoru’s voice, whether you’d like to or not. and, of course, he just has to still use that ridiculous nickname after all these years. “long time no see.”

“i have all my teeth now—i have for a long time, y’know. and put a shirt on, you freak,” you huff, rolling your eyes, “where’s suguru?”

“what, you don’t enjoy the view?” he motions at his bare torso, like the shameless bastard he is, “most girls love this view—”

“and yet, you’re still single,” you cut him off, staring at him pointedly.

he grins impossibly wider, tugging his shirt over his body swiftly—you have to exercise all ounces of control not to gulp as you watch his biceps flex.

“keepin’ track of my love life?” he wiggles his brows, “i know older men can be appealing but have a little class. your poor brother would lose his shit if you went after his best friend—”

“satoru,” you sigh, pinching your nose, “do you age backward or something? how are you still this obnoxious after so long?”

“i practice in the mirror,” he winks, “it’s my charm.”

“that’s hardly charming,” you roll your eyes, “anyway, whenever suguru comes back, let him know i left his hoodie, yeah?”

“sure,” he chuckles.

and then you close the door as you leave—right before you stop, pause, and open it up again as you’re sticking your head back in when you make a shocking realization.

“wait, how long are you here for?” you ask, eyes wide.

he has the audacity to look smug as he taps his chin and pretends to think—“oh, y’know. just the rest of break. my old man took my mom on some trip, so i’m killing time here,” he shrugs.

great. lovely. wonderful. just what you needed.

you wish he’d drop dead—maybe suguru will finally be forced to go outside of his one-man circle and actually befriend some respectable people.

“you can’t just stay at your place?” you hiss, “it’s certainly big enough.”

“well, why be lonely in an empty home when we can have fun here?” he hums, “consider yourself lucky—you get to be housemates with me for a—”

“keep to yourself,” you warn, cutting him off again through narrowed eyes and a dangerous glare—satoru only looks more amused, raising his hands up in surrender.

with that, you turn again and almost shut the door when he calls for you—“hey, toothless,” he says lowly, making you pause before turning to him with a raised brow. he smiles—it’s so unlike that usual smirk of his…somehow this one is a bit gentler as he murmurs, “you look good. grew up well, y’know.”

you blink. you’re not ready for that…didn’t expect a compliment from gojo satoru himself—especially not after all this time of throwing mediocre insults your way.

you decide he must be messing with you, so you purse your lips as you click your teeth in irritation. “yeah, sure,” you say dryly.

you can hear his chuckles as you close the door again—this is going to be a long break.

—————

just as expected, the house is simply not big enough for you and satoru.

the first time you run into him happens to be first thing after waking up—you’re walking up to the door just as he twists the knob and opens it, walking out shirtless. again.

this time, however, he’s got beads of water rolling down his skin from his shower, right between his pecs, as a towel hangs around his shoulders. you can see his tattoo from up close now, a small infinity sign right under his collarbone that contrasts against his pale skin.

how tacky, you think—just as you’d expect, even his choice of tattoos is questionable.

his hair is wet—it’s sticking to his forehead instead of the multiple directions it usually scatters around in that messy way it always does. you’ve only felt satoru’s hair once—when you were fifteen, and you’d hit him in the back of the head as you walked past him at the breakfast table. he’d made a jab at your dark circles. tests were around the corner, and unlike satoru, your grades actually mattered. you didn’t expect his hair to be so soft, but it is, and you almost itch to twirl the strands around your fingers for a quick feel.

instead, you scowl and stomp off to your room as soon as your dishes are washed.

his hair is probably just as soft now—maybe even softer now that he actually probably cares to look after it. you’ve heard suguru grumble about using two-in-one shampoo too many times when he comes back from spending the night at satoru’s. for a second, your fingers twitch to reach up and brush through a few strands on his forehead—just to feel them because they look soft. nothing else.

the urge is quickly killed as soon as he opens his mouth, however.

“oh, hey there, roomie,” he grins, “you’re really doing all you can to catch me half naked, huh?”

“don’t flatter yourself,” you grumble.

“i’m just sayin’,” he chuckles, “that’s twice now. if you ask nicely, i might walk around like this just for you.”

it’s way too early for this.

by early, it’s actually late noon. now that finals aren’t killing your free time, you stay up until ungodly hours to catch up with your social life—and it doesn’t help that you can hear satoru and suguru stay up playing video games the next room over, either. suguru is probably still sleeping.

that’s a bit of a shocker, in fact—usually, it’s satoru that has to be dragged out of your brother’s room to have breakfast (or brunch, really) before the kitchen is cleared up. why satoru is up first is beyond you.

maybe it’s just a cruel way for the universe to enjoy watching more of your veins pop.

“does that apply to asking you to leave? because then i suppose i can ask rather politely.”

he grins, eyes sparkling with amusement as he shoots you that smile with those pearly whites that irritate you to no end. you’re not sure why, but something about his smile looks so much different nowadays—something about it just seems so….mature.

that’s a word you didn’t think you’d ever use to describe satoru.

“mm, not quite,” he hums, “you’re still stuck with me.”

“whatever,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. “move, i want to shower before suguru wakes up.”

“you have time,” he steps to the side, letting you enter the bathroom, “he’s probably not waking up anytime soon—woah.”

satoru’s shirt is on the floor—why, you may ask? because he’s an annoying idiot who doesn’t have to clean up after himself when people have always been around to do it for him. he never has to care to aim and toss his clothes into the hamper because the maids will pick up after him anyway. old habits die hard, you suppose—you’ve listened to suguru complain about satoru’s messiness not improving even after being his roommate for the last few years. it’s never been your problem, but you don’t appreciate it now that you’re slipping over the fabric on the tiled floor, falling backwards with a squeal.

but satoru’s quick—he catches you with those strong arms of his and wraps them tightly around you, keeping you securely in place as he steadies you against his chest.

his bare chest, in fact.

you can feel the slight dampness seeping into your shirt, and you can feel his hot breath on your neck as he exhales in relief once he makes sure you’re safe. you almost shiver—almost, but you manage to scrape together enough self-control to stay painfully still in his grasp.

“you okay?” he murmurs gently, voice a low whisper against your skin. there’s no bite to his words. no amusement or teasing or even smugness. it’s genuine, the way he checks on you.

this is…new. very, very new.

“yeah,” you breathe, letting out a sharp breath. and then—“maybe keep your clothes in the fucking hamper next time, though.”

“sorry,” the smile in his voice is almost audible—you can’t see it from where you are, but you can hear it in his voice. you roll your eyes, and satoru makes no move to loosen his arms around you. for some reason, you don’t move.

you’re not sure why, but you just don’t.

“you’re still just as messy, huh?” you roll your eyes—he laughs, and it’s a smooth, boyish chuckle that almost makes you wonder for a moment if this is why girls seem to love satoru so much despite his god-awful personality.

it’s a pretty beautiful sound—you hate that you have to admit that to yourself.

“yeah,” he admits, “it drives suguru nuts.”

“yeah, i can’t imagine why,” you snort. it’s like that for a moment—satoru’s muscled arms around you and hard chest pressed against your back. finally, you clear your throat. “you can let go now, you know.”

“right,” he mumbles, slowly pulling away—and when you turn to face him….is that disappointment? on his face? you don’t get a chance to be sure because then he’s bending down to pick up his shirt before he’s standing—he’s already wiped the expression from his features completely by then. “sorry about that, toothless. i’ll keep my shirts off the floor next time.”

“that would be so kind of you,” you smile sarcastically.

and then you shut the door in his face and exhale as you lean against the wall.

this is going to be a longer break than you thought.

—————

the next time you run into him, it’s late at night. everyone is asleep—even your brother and his headache of a best friend, if the silence tells you anything. you can’t sleep, though, so you make your way to the kitchen to hunt for snacks. you’re skimming through the pantry before your eyes land on a surprise—a box of strawberry pocky sits nice and enticingly, right there for you to open and devour.

you grin, reaching over when—

“those are mine,” satoru calls, stepping into the kitchen, “brought them over myself. you should ask before touching people’s things.”

“you literally ate my leftovers the other night,” you say incredulously.

“those were yours? i thought they were suguru’s.” he raises a brow in surprise, making you click your teeth in irritation.

“the principle of asking still applies,” you purse your lips. and then defiantly, you open the box and grab a pack right before his eyes.

he scowls—but you know he doesn’t actually mind because he waits for you to finish grabbing yours before taking the box and grabbing his own pack and a coke from the fridge. you both take a seat at the kitchen table, across from each other, as you open the packaging and silently eat your newfound snack.

it’s satoru who breaks the silence first.

“do you still throw away the ends of these?”

you huff indignantly, not meeting his eyes as you take a bite off the strawberry-covered end, stopping at just where the cookie portion is uncoated. “yes. i’m eating these for the coating—not the bland biscuit part.”

“what’re you, five?” he snickers, earning a glare from you. defiantly, you pop the end of the pocky stick into your mouth just to prove a point—and then the look of distaste makes him cackle louder. 

“shut up,” you hiss, “you talk too much.”

“the ladies love it when i do,” he bats his lashes—you stare at him blankly, unimpressed.

“yeah, as if.”

“hey, my ex-girlfriend totally did,” he defends.

ex-girlfriend? that’s a bit of a shocker—you didn’t know satoru dated anyone in the last few years, you haven’t seen or heard anything of it through suguru’s end. in all realness, you didn’t even think satoru was the boyfriend type…but then again, he’s not really the anything type. he just kind of exists to take up space and be the bane of your existence. 

“i hope the poor girl is recovering well after dating you,” you shake your head, feigning a concerned look on your face that makes him roll his eyes—they’re still disturbingly bright even in the dark kitchen, dimly lit by the slightest bit of moonlight pouring in through the small window.

“i dated her freshman and sophomore year,” he says casually. you also didn’t expect that—that it lasted that long. something about satoru doesn’t strike you as the long-term relationship kind of guy. something about him doesn’t seem like the relationship kind of guy at all. not because he’s the type to mess around casually, but because he seems the type to seem disinterested all around—he’s snobby like that. “she was…alright, i guess.”

yeah. very snobby.

“you are such a sick bastard,” you spit.

he snorts, taking a bite of his pocky as he shakes his head in amusement. you’re as feisty as ever—it’s always fun riling you up, even if unintentionally.

“hey, it’s not like she was bad. she was just…well, she wasn’t interested in me like that either,” he shrugs, “i think it was just the sex. it was good, can’t lie there.”

“you’re so gross,” you roll your eyes, “have some decorum.”

“what, you’re still sixteen?” he raises a brow, lips curling into a smirk as he reaches for another pocky, “can’t say the word s-e-x?”

“i don’t broadcast my sexual activities out in the open,” you shrug.

satoru chuckles, taking a bite that more or less finishes the entire stick in one go before he presses a finger to his lips, “shh. don’t say that too loud—suguru will come chase you from his room if he hears.”

“suguru,” you groan, “he’s such a pain to have around sometimes. y’know i dated this one guy last year. i think suguru might’ve paid him to dump me.”

“i know. he definitely thought about it,” satoru hums, “he used to go off about it all the time. he was right, though—that guy was a total prick.”

something about you is mildly shocked that satoru knows about your private life—sure, it’s not outrageous or even the slightest bit unlikely that suguru mentions you. satoru and suguru are best friends, and you happen to be suguru’s sister—of course, suguru is bound to mention you here and there. it’s just the fact that satoru even pays attention to anything to do with you that surprises you—although you suppose it would be a good way for him to find his next source to push your buttons.

“i’m not surprised you think he’s a prick,” you nod, “it takes one to know one, after all.”

“oh yeah?” he snorts, waving you off, “i do, in fact remember anniversaries, y’know.”

“okay,” you sigh, defeated—your ex-boyfriend is admittedly not at the top of the list of your brightest choices. not even up halfway on the list. in fact, he’s so low on the list of good choices you’ve made, that willingly choosing to interact with satoru feels like an exceptional decision in comparison. and that’s saying something. “he was pretty bad. but he was really hot. when a guy looks like that, his values are the least of my worries.”

it’s a joke—you’re sure he knows that. but satoru takes a long sip from his coke, silent for a moment. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so serious, especially so suddenly.

“he can’t be that hot,” he mutters.

“oh he was really hot. probably the hottest guy i’ve ever talked to—” satoru bites his pocky a bit aggressively at that, “and he was so tall. maybe taller than you—how tall are you again? anyway, he was pretty enough to overlook his shortcomings.”

“he’s probably not taller than me,” he grumbles, frowning. you snort—men and their fragile little egos, you think in amusement.

“he was,” you tease, “he was so tall, i’d let him do whatever he wanted.”

“that’s a terrible way to look at it,” he scrunches his brows, “you shouldn’t let some guy walk all over you because he’s tall and his face is a bit easy on the eyes—”

“i know you’re not talking—”

“i’m serious,” he cuts you off. something about him reminds you of suguru for a moment—like he cares who you’re with because he has a reason to. as if you mean something to him, as if knowing someone who doesn’t deserve you has you in their palms is upsetting.

but then you shake the thought out of your head—satoru doesn’t care. he’s never had a reason to, and you don’t exactly plan to give him one, either.

“okay, dad,” you roll your eyes, “i learned my lesson. i have standards now.”

“good,” he nods—and then, as if to keep himself in character, he adds, “because i don’t want to help suguru kill someone, and it’s over something lame like forgetting his little sister’s anniversary. i’d like to go to jail for something more badass.”

“you and badass don’t belong in the same sentence,” you raise a brow. “let’s be realistic.”

“oh yeah? that’s rich coming from—”

“guys, it is five in the morning,” suguru grumbles, throwing a water bottle at satoru’s head. you glance at the kitchen entrance, eyeing a half-asleep and very irritable suguru as he crosses his arms, “can’t you idiots fight over who’s more of a loser at reasonable hours? some of us like to sleep.”

“want one?” you offer your pack of pocky, holding it out to him.

suguru blinks, contemplating for a second before sighing and trudging over.

“yeah,” he mutters, flicking your forehead. “gimme that.”

you watch woefully as suguru takes the entirety of your pack, swiftly sitting next to satoru and leaving you empty-handed. satoru snickers obnoxiously at the deflated look on your face—and then he holds out his pack to you.

you look between him and the pack for a moment before giving him a genuine smile. it’s a rare sight—he drinks it in as you carefully take one and bicker over something with suguru.

you’re pretty when you smile, he thinks—pretty enough that if you had horrible values (which you don’t), he might feel inclined to understand your (awful) reasoning for a moment.

and then he blinks and shakes the thoughts out of his head—it’s going to be a long break.

—————

satoru meets you when you’re six. 

he’s nine at the time, and he feels on top of the world knowing he’s three whole years older than you—in hindsight, three years is not a very large gap, but to nine-year-old him, it feels like centuries. he’s remembered you as the fun little drama queen that’s too easy to poke fun at for years—that’s all you’ve always been: suguru’s younger sister who puffs her cheeks out and scowls way too often to be normal, the girl that’s way too easy to tease than should be standard. 

somehow, he wasn’t expecting for you to come back so grown…and so hot. suddenly, it really hits him that you’re not a kid—have not really been for a long time now. he’s always treated you like you’re way younger than he is, way too little to be in his presence and be worthy of it—but you’ve really become a fine young woman.

a magnetizing one, in fact.

it’s now his third night at your house—your parents are as lovely and welcoming as ever, and suguru is always a good time to be around. but somehow, satoru is not satisfied. not anywhere near sated by the few, minimal moments of contact with you. 

when did you get so pretty? although, as much as satoru has always liked to poke fun at you, you’ve never been ugly. not even a little—but you’ve grown into your features better, outgrown the awkward teenage era of your life, and now present yourself with a newfound confidence that just looks…so good. satoru doesn’t see his best friend's kid sister anymore—no, there’s something so alluring about you now.

the nail on the coffin that solidifies he’s officially screwed is when you mention your ex-boyfriend—why would your dating life make him this irrationally angry? why is the thought of someone being on the receiving end of your praise (and shameless heart-eyes) so aggravating for him? 

he doesn’t know—but what he does know is that the raging boner has been killing him all morning ever since he woke up from…well, less than proper dreams about you.

so now he’s here, forehead pressed against your shower wall as the hot water hits his back, swollen cock in his fist as he thumbs at the tip, teasing the slit just the way he likes. he thinks about you—how he’d show you what makes him feel good, how you’d probably learn fast and take care of him just the way he needs. 

your hand would look so much daintier compared to his—smaller, but he’s sure it would still feel infinitely better. 

he bites his lip, fighting back a moan as he strokes himself slowly, pre cum smeared along the length of his hard, aching cock—red and angry at the tip, leaking with more pre cum no matter how many times his thumb collects every drop. 

“f-fuck—” he breathes, and his voice lets out a shaky, breathy little call of your name—he’s screwed if anyone hears it. he’s sure you and suguru will both band together to kill him, but thankfully, the words are lost in the sound of the shower running. “fuck baby,” he says hoarsely, voice cracking ever so slightly as he whines. 

it’s soft and quiet, the noises he makes—careful and deliberately hushed to make sure no one hears the improper way he’s thinking of you right now. but fuck, your tits are so pretty when you walk out of your room in a t-shirt in the mornings—he can just tell you’re not wearing a bra. he can’t stop thinking about it, can’t stop trying to picture what they’d look like uncovered and bouncing.

“jus’ like that, baby,” he pants, whimpering softly as he squeezes around his tip, teasing himself with that slow, painful pace of his. 

satoru is sure that if it were you, that if the hand stroking his cock right now was yours, you would never let him cum so easily—you’d drag it out just like this, pump him slowly and twist your hand around him in a pace that’s painfully not enough before ever thinking about letting him come undone. 

it’s just the way that you are—never ready to back down from a challenge, unwilling to go down without a fight. but he loves it, he thinks—lives for the way you keep him on his toes and work for the satisfaction. 

“more,” he gasps, “n-need more—gimme more, sweetheart.”

he imagines it—the way you’d kiss his jaw, maybe even the corner of his mouth, as you hum. say please, toru, you’d probably say—and fuck, he’d kill to hear you say toru. 

“please,” he rasps, “please, baby. d-don’t tease.”

he can practically hear your light giggles, the sweet, okay, baby. no more teasing, that you might whisper. he’d also kill to hear you call him baby—he’s almost nauseous at the idea that some other guy must’ve heard the pet name from your lips before him. and then he lets himself pump his erection faster, squeezing tighter as his thighs quiver while he stands in the shower. 

fuck—you feel so good. you’re not even here, but he’s sure you do, and he’s desperate to envision it. it practically hurts—the way he’s so hard and swollen and ready to release. just for you, he wants to tell you, he’s going to cum all for you. 

“baby,” he whimpers, “‘m so, so close—fuck ‘m gonna cum. ‘s for you—gonna cum for you—ngh, sh-shit.”

and then there’s cum on the tile walls, on his hands, on his abs as they flex with every labored breath. satoru cums—hard. his eyes are squeezed shut, lips parted with a silent cry as he pants and strokes himself through his high. you’d kiss him, he likes to think, on his jaw and cheeks and maybe the tip of his nose as you sit on his lap and work him through his orgasm. you’d watch him closely, take in the way he comes undone for you, maybe even call him your pretty boy as he paints your hand white with his seed.

would you praise him? murmur softly into his ear and seal the gentle words with a kiss to his skin? would you stroke his hair from his face as you admire his blissful, fucked out little expression? maybe he’d ask you then—maybe he’d ask you to admit he’s way more handsome than that douchebag you dated as your hand holds his softening cock, sticky with his release.

god, what he wouldn’t do to see your hands coated with his cum—did you do this for your ex? did he look as hot as you claim he was when he came for you? the thought makes him sour—he grits his teeth and clenches his jaw at the idea, panting and catching his breath as he stares down at the mess he’s made.

he should feel bad—this is wrong. so, so wrong—suguru would kill him if he was aware satoru was lusting over his little sister. but it felt so fucking good—he’s never cum as hard as when he’s pictured cumming for you. 

it can’t be that wrong, if that’s the case—can it?

——

“suguru,” your voice is shrill, deadly—like you’re out for blood. “next time you jack off in the shower, maybe clean the fucking wall? are you joking?”

“wha—i definitely cleaned that,” suguru defends. 

oh, fuck, satoru thinks—he forgot to clean that. so he makes himself very scarce and stays within the confinements of suguru’s bedroom—his messy habits are starting to really catch up to him. if his defense, he really would clean that up…it’s just that he was a bit distracted. 

“so you admit you jack off in our shower? our shower?” you sound inconsolable, downright devastated, and borderline hysterical. having siblings seems like a lot of trouble, he thinks—but then again, sometimes satoru is jealous of your bond with suguru. it’d be nice to have someone in his family he can actually depend on. “keep that shit for your bedroom, you jackass!”

“well, how am i supposed to do that when satoru is there? you tell me.”

“i don’t know! figure it the fuck out—you guys probably jack off together anyway.”

“what?” suguru sounds appalled, “we do not—that’s outrageous.”

“whatever,” you say—you sound almost murderous as you warn, “next time you better clean up your fucking mess, you asshole.”

satoru can’t help but smile a little—your pointer finger is definitely held up as you scold suguru—you’re so cute when you’re mad, he thinks. he almost wants to step out and catch a glimpse, but he decides against it for now.

silently, satoru thanks his best friend for taking one for the team—even if it was unknowingly.

—————

it’s night four. 

satoru has surprisingly kept to himself—he even promptly looked away after meeting your eyes in the kitchen yesterday morning as you walked in for breakfast. that’s…new. a lot about satoru is new. 

he’s taller and more muscular now—at one point, suguru used to tower over his scrawny little form. now he’s seemed to grow into his body, seemed to learn how to style himself better, and actually do his hair a bit. it’s still messy now that he’s just lazing around in your home—but it’s oddly handsome. 

scarily handsome, in fact. 

you don’t enjoy the idea of thinking about the jerk of your childhood like that—but ever since you felt the hard press of his chest against your back, sometimes you wonder what it’s like to know satoru outside of just your older brother’s obnoxious friend. 

maybe, somewhere along the line, had you put your pride aside and actually tried to get to know him, maybe you both could at least be friendly. but then again, there’s never been any real animosity between you two—you can share a lighthearted talk from time to time, like that night in the kitchen. 

you decide not to dwell on it too much, decide that he’s not really worth your thoughts when he’s just a guy who’s always been a bit too spoiled to learn how to be humble. instead, you go down to the kitchen to grab another pack of strawberry pocky—satoru will just have to deal with it. if he doesn’t want his snacks eaten, he shouldn’t keep them in the pantry where anyone could stumble across them.

you walk into the kitchen until—oh. it’s satoru. again.

“oh, hey,” he grins cheekily, taking a sip of his coke—he needs to break the habit of having so much sugar this late at night…but then again, why would it matter to you? “stalkin’ me?”

“for an unwelcomed guest, you sure do talk a lot,” you roll your eyes, making his lips curl into a smug little smirk. 

“i don’t know—your parents seem to love having me over. what if i become their newest son?”

“i doubt my parents are looking to adopt you,” you raise a brow, slightly amused. 

he hums, sipping his coke before blinking at you through those long, perfect lashes of his. “well, there are other ways to blend into a family. marriage, for example, is a great way.”

“you and my brother might as well marry each other,” you snort, “no one else will do it.”

“who said anything about suguru?” he winks, chuckling when your face twists into an exaggerated look of horror—always as dramatic as ever, you are. he can’t help but find an endearing side to it now.

satoru stands, walks over to where you are and stands in front of you as you scoff, shaking your head as you huff out a disbelieving chuckle. 

“that’s pushing it,” you muse, “marrying you would be the last open option i’d have left—and even then i doubt i’d ever take it.”

“yeah?” he raises a brow, leaning in so close, you can practically feel his breath fan over you. he smells like expensive cologne and your shampoo—why is he using yours instead of suguru’s? before you can even ask him what he’s doing, he throws away the empty can of coke in the trash can behind you, eyes bright with amusement as your breath hitches.

it’s like he knows—the fucking asshole.

“yeah,” you breathe, “you don’t deserve me,” you try to say matter-of-factly. it comes off a bit more breathless than you intended—the air feels suffocating. maybe because satoru is so close, maybe because his breath is on your face, maybe because all you can smell and feel and hear is him. 

you can’t find it in yourself to pull away—why aren’t you pulling away? it’s just like that day he caught you, when his arms wrapped around you and all you felt like doing was lean into his chest. what about satoru and you has shifted so quickly to make you want to do that? what makes him so easy to fall into when all you’ve always known was to shove at him?

he hums, leaning in closer and closer until his forehead touches yours. “you know who didn’t deserve you?” he asks, “that shitty ex of yours.”

you look up at him with wide eyes, speechless as his hands find purchase of your hips, grabbing them and pulling you closer—and against better judgment, your hands lay themselves across his chest. it’s as firm as you remember it. 

“how would you know—”

“heard suguru rant about it all the time,” he murmurs, “how he forgot your dates. got you a shitty birthday present. didn’t show up to your anniversary. made you hang out with his friends and didn’t even meet half of yours. you’re tellin’ me he deserves you more than me?”

“he was hot—”

“yeah? and i’m not?”

he’s cocky—you hate that about him. always did. but he’s so close, so intoxicating, so irresistible, and fuck, he is hot—so incredibly hot, you’ve been losing sleep over it the last four nights no matter how hard you try to deny it. 

“satoru, what are you—”

“y’know, i’ve been helping suguru pick your birthday presents since you were twelve. i’d pick you the best gifts,” his nose is brushing against yours now, lips just millimeters away from his as he speaks—“and i never forget an important date. i’m very punctual too, believe it or not. i’d meet your little friends—show ‘em what a catch i am when you introduce me.”

“and what am i supposed to do with this information?” you ask defiantly.

it’s a last-ditch effort—you both know this. you know exactly what he wants you to do with this information. 

“i don’t know, sweetheart,” he chuckles, “what do you think?”

and then you’re kissing him—because fuck, satoru is right there, and how could you not? his chest is under your palms, his lips are right against yours, and you can feel his thumb rub circles into your hips. 

so you kiss him—loop your arms around his neck and tug him closer and press your lips to his. he groans, responds almost instantly as his mouth molds against yours, kissing you deeper as his hand moves to cup your cheek.

your lips are softer than he thought, and his hair is silky against your fingers. you tug at the strands, grab a handful, and feel them against your fingers like you’ve wanted to for so long. and when he nips at your bottom lip, who are you to deny him? your lips part, letting his tongue slide in and taste you with a breathy sigh that makes your knees wobble. 

“s-satoru,” you stutter, whispering between kisses, “suguru might come in like last time—”

“god,” he groans, head burying into your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against the skin, “don’t fucking talk about your brother right now. please.”

“my room,” you say urgently—it’s all he needs to hear before his hands are on your ass, grabbing you as you wrap your legs around his hips. it’s urgent, the way his mouth is back on yours—he doesn’t pull away even once the entire walk to your room, not even when he lets your back fall onto the mattress as he hovers over you, pressing kisses along your collarbone. 

no bra, he notes happily, his hand sneaking under your shirt to toy with your pert nipples. 

“god, you’ve been driving me fuckin’ crazy,” he mumbles, tugging the hem of your shirt over your arms and tossing it over his shoulder. he stares, takes in the sight of the same tits he’s been fantasizing over for the last few days in awe. “you know that? been thinkin’ about these for days,” he says lowly, cupping your tit and massaging as he presses a kiss to your jaw. 

“you’re shameless,” you mutter, snorting before you cut yourself off with a gasp as he squeezes your nipple, pinching and rolling it between his fingers and pulling a soft whine from you.

“shhh,” he chuckles, tilting his head toward the wall next to you, “don’t want suguru to hear, do you? that wouldn’t be nice, would it?”

“it’ll be worse for you than me,” you grin, tugging at the hem of his own shirt, indicating you want it off. he grins widely, wiggling his brows and making you purse your lips.

“wanna see me shirtless again, huh? third times the charm, as they say,” he winks. you would retort with something as witty, but then your eyes fall on that tattoo again—right under his collarbone, making your hand reach out to trace it with your thumb. 

“what compelled you to get this corny little tattoo of yours,” you grin, giggling as you trace over the small infinity sign. 

for the first time, you think you witness satoru shy, blushing as he rubs the back of his neck and chuckles awkwardly. “that…that was an accident. when i got drunk for the first time.”

“oh,” you snort, “you’re so weak, satoru—”

“do me a favor, sweetheart,” he hums, cutting you off, “as much as i love when you say my name, say toru for me, yeah? i wanna hear it.”

you roll your eyes, huffing as your hand finds the back of his head and pulls him into another kiss, moaning into his mouth as he grinds the throbbing erection in his sweats over your heated core. 

“toru,” you say breathlessly, “more.”

that’s all he needs to hear—satoru doesn’t waste a second before he’s crawling between your legs, sliding your cute little pajama pants down your legs before meeting your dripping pussy.

it’s wet—so wet, he almost wants to chuckle and tease you a bit. just for old-time's sake. but the ache that shoots down to his cock reminds him that he’s in no position to tease you when he’s not faring any better himself. so he spreads your legs, kisses lightly at your clit in a feather-like touch that has you whimpering and clutching the sheets in anticipation.

“how pretty,” he mumbles, “been hiding this pretty little thing all this time. what a perfect pussy.”

“satoru,” you gasp in embarrassment, hands reaching for his hair and tugging him closer to where you need him most—equal parts because you really need his mouth on your cunt and equal parts because you really need him to shut up. 

but he chuckles, takes his time to spread your folds open with his thumbs, and watches in wonder as you flutter around nothing, arousal dripping and leaving a mess. it’s perfect—you’re perfect, and he wants to take his time with you. 

“god, you’re soaked,” he groans, chuckling as he murmurs, “that’s fuckin’ cute.”

before you can even whine at the way his words are shameless, his mouth is back to kissing your clit, lips wrapping around it as he sucks and rolls his tongue along the sensitive bud. his fingers sink deep into you, pushing past your folds and slowly bullying into you until the tips of his fingers curl and brush against a spot that makes you squeal. 

you gasp a breathy, “fuck, toru—” before he hums around your clit, vibrations making you whimper as he thrusts his fingers back in to hit that spot again. it’s sensitive, the way he makes you feel—your nerves are on fire, and your head is light, and fuck, it feels so good you can’t help but sob brokenly and squeeze your thighs around his head. he moans against your cunt, pulling his fingers out before letting his tongue lick a stripe along your slit, tasting you with a sharp inhale. 

“f-feels good,” you whimper, biting your lip as your eyes crinkle at the corners from squeezing shut.

“yeah?” he hums, kissing your inner thigh, leaving a wet little sheen of his spit and your arousal on the skin, “that’s a good girl—just keep telling me how good i make you feel, kay?”

he could stay buried nose-deep into your pussy for as long as you let him—tongue alternating between fucking into you and rolling over your swollen clit, hearing the broken little gasps and whines of his name as you repeat toru over and over again like a prayer. his hand grips at your thigh, sinking his fingertips into the plush skin and rubbing soothingly with his thumb as you rut your hips and grind against his face. 

satoru has half a mind to watch it again—to lick and suck at your core again and again just so he could burn into his mind what you look like when you cum. it’s divine—like he’s halfway to stepping into heaven and has to pause just to admire the sight before him. 

your hips leave the mattress as your back arches, and your fingers tug relentlessly at his roots as your walls quiver, letting satoru taste every drop of your release as you press a palm to your hand and try to keep yourself from squealing at the pleasure.

suguru is right next door. you can’t wake him—can’t let him know this is what you and his best friend get up to in the late hours of the night. 

it’s not until satoru pulls away, catching his breath as he wipes the wet trail on his chin does he realize how hard he is—how badly he’s aching as his cock strains against his sweats. he hisses as he frees himself; ridding his sweats and boxers and wrapping a large hand around the tip of his erection and smearing the leaking pre cum along his length. 

you watch in awe, reaching over and replacing his hand with yours. satoru was right—your hand is infinitely smaller than his, and yet, it feels a great deal better. so much better, in fact, that his arms shake as he hovers over you, burying his head into your neck and groaning as you slowly stroke him, squeezing at the tip and rolling your thumb through the slit.

he didn’t even have to show you what he wanted, what makes him feel good, what makes his mind fog with pleasure and burn through every nerve. no, you figure it all out on your own, pulling strangled moans and hushed gasps from him that make your clit ache once more. 

“fuck, baby,” he pants, “can’t last long like this—c’mon, g-gotta feel you.” gently, he pries your hand from his thick, pulsing cock, laying it against your stomach as he peers down in fascination. “i’ll be right here,” he hums, drawing a line on your skin right where his tip ends, “see that? that’s where you’ll feel me, sweetheart.”

“then let me feel you,” you murmur, cupping his cheeks and brushing a thumb over the skin, “fuck me, toru—wan’ it so bad.”

so he does—drags his tip along your folds and collects the slick pooling at your entrance before pushing his tip past your folds, splitting you in half as he slowly buries himself to the hilt. his jaw is clenched, breath labored as he waits for you to adjust, lets you kiss his cheeks and nose as you murmur how handsome he is, how perfect he feels, how good is to you. 

“that asshole ever make you cum?” he asks lowly, “he ever eat your pussy like that? make you cum hard enough you had to cover your mouth so you’re not screaming his name?”

“no,” you breathe, quivering as his thumb rolls over your clit in slow circles, still painfully still as he stares down at you, “n-no, never. just you—only you—”

“good,” he grins, “that’s what i like to hear. and when i make you cum on my cock, make sure to tell me he’s never done that either, yeah?”

“you’re full of it,” you scoff, “always have been.”

“and you’re full of me,” he says cheekily, chuckling as you glare half-heartedly. “can i move, baby? please? need more, ‘s not enough. n-need more—”

“yeah,” you whimper, pulling him closer, chests brushing against each other as your lips meet in a sloppy kiss, “yeah—need more too, toru.”

satoru, in all his years of knowing you, has never seen the side of you that could be this gentle. the side that glides your hands over his back, feeling every flex and every pull of his muscles, gently caressing the skin like it’s holy, like it’s not worthy of marks—instead to be worshipped and revered with thoughtful touches. your lips sear into every part of him they can find—his lips, his forehead, his nose, his hair as his face digs into your neck. even your voice is a gentle whisper of his name, so soft and careful, it’s like saying it wrong could break him. 

your hips buck up in tandem with his, meeting his rhythm as he slams into you, his balls slapping against your skin as he buries his cock into you as deep as it’ll go with every harsh thrust. you can feel his tip kissing against that sweet spot in the back of your walls, your abused cunt sucking him in and hugging around him as he groans. 

the friction feels sickening, like he’ll pass out any second, like he’s floating between the precipice of pleasure and the edge of consciousness. 

you do that to him—he doesn’t know how or when or why, but you make him feel like he doesn’t have a grip on his own senses. he doesn’t mind it so much, he thinks—doesn’t hate the idea of letting himself fall into your palm and wrap around him. it feels nicer that way, like it’s where he belongs.

“fuck, ‘s so tight,” he rasps, whining into your neck as your hand cups the back of his head, holding him in place. his hips are rutting into you sloppily now, barely maintaining the rhythm from before as he nears his high—but that doesn't stop him from angling into you perfectly, slamming into your sensitive spot every time without fail. “c-cum—’m gonna cum. cum with me, sweetheart.”

“‘m so close, toru,” you sob—and then, just as his thumb finds your clit again, rubbing harsh, desperate little circles to get you over the edge, you cum again—harder than the last time, spasming around his cock and pulling him in as you squeeze around him. “t-toru,” you gasp brokenly, “fuck, ‘s good—so good.”

“baby,” he moans lowly, “fuck, you’re so perfect. prettiest thing ever—prettiest pussy ever. i, sh-shit—” your orgasm quickly has him falling into his own, hot, thick ropes of cum spilling into you with every twitch of his cock, sweet little noises pulled from his throat that he sings into your neck, fucking his load into you. 

it’s messy, the way cum spills out of you and coats his cock—but it’s perfect and feels so, so right. you can’t help but think how perfectly satoru fits against you as his body slumps on top of yours, panting and spent as he cages you in his arms.

your hand doesn’t leave his hair—now that you know how it feels, you don’t think you can stop threading your fingers through it, ever. 

“wow, toothless,” he chuckles after a bit, “you’re seriously obsessed with me, huh? i mean, how long have you been nursing this crush on me, hmm? thinking about your brother’s best friend, you naughty little thing—”

“satoru, would you shut that mouth for once,” you hiss, rolling your eyes—still, there’s an affectionate grin on your lips this time as he chuckles into your skin. 

“oh baby, i’m afraid this mouth never shuts, so you should get used—”

suddenly, you both freeze as you hear suguru’s voice through the door. “you two better not be fucking doing what i think you’re doing,” he seethes, making your jaw drop and satoru’s eyes widen.

fuck—that was never supposed to happen. suguru was never supposed to hear, let alone know.

“hey,” satoru starts, “if suguru kicks me out of our place, i can come be your new permanent housemate, right?”

do not comment about a part 2

but yeah he can come live with me any time and as long as he pays by sucking my tiddies i shall provide all food and utilities and everything

[nereidprinc3ss]

diva

in which flirty!reader shows up to work in a bad mood and it’s spencer’s job to deal with her attitude. not that he minds. (bandages universe)

fluff warnings/tags: fem!reader, mentions of reader coming to work from a casual hookup, flirting, lots of teasing, the BAU being silly geese bc this is before all the trauma, insecurities about reader's job performance, spencer wants to be a cyborg, borderline cuddling hehehe a/n: nanana diva is a female version of a hustler (bandages!reader theme song) no but really i just missed them so much lowkey always accepting requests for these two!! I hope you guys likeeee bc i loveee them and also this was based on a request so i hope u see this LOL

As soon as Hotch calls wheels up in thirty you’re slumping forward, resting your head on folded arms. The to-go cup on the round table in front of you has long been emptied but you look at it longingly anyway. 

Morgan chuckles, slapping his folder down on the table next to you. “Aw, look at that. Bright eyed and bushy tailed.”

“It’s Sunday,” you groan. “It’s seven in the morning. Excuse me for not being ready to carpe the diem.”

“It’s just carpe diem,” Spencer interjects, standing and slipping his file into his bag. You sit up and give him the most indignant look you can manage, though it’s hard when you’re this tired and he’s that cute. Slacks. Sweater vest. Button down, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. An enviable waist. 

“Whose side are you on?”

He frowns, brushing a tuft of shining-clean brown hair out of his eyes. 

“If I was on anyone’s side other than my own it would cease to be their side. We’re all always on our own sides.”

“No, you’re on my side. Defend me.”

His brows only dart up and he looks back down to his bag. It’s a look you know well. Don’t get me involved. 

Morgan spins in his chair to face you, one elbow resting on the table. 

“I’m just saying, if this is your Sunday morning, I’d love to see your Saturday night, little miss forty five minutes late.”

“You heard Hotch say he called me half an hour earlier than everyone else. It was technically fifteen,” you frown. “And I… was at church.”

Rossi gestures at you with his coffee cup. “You step foot in a church, your shoes are going to start smoking.”

Your jaw drops. 

“Wow. I thought old people were supposed to be sweet. Come on, Spencer.”

Spencer knows better than to put up a fight as you get up and grab him by the hand not holding onto your cup and folder, dragging him to the bullpen to sit at your desk until the team is ready to go. 

He stands in front of you, hands in pockets, as you plop into your own chair. “I… can’t tell if you’re actually mad.”

“I am. At you. For not being on my side.”

Spencer sets his bag down and leans against the adjacent desk, arms folded. You stopped caring a long time ago if he’d notice you ogling the long, lithe lines of him. Maybe you never really cared, if you’re being honest with yourself. He’s a little harder to scandalize these days, anyway. But you’ll never stop trying. 

He bites his lip thoughtfully. 

“If you’re mad at me, why am I the one you dragged down here?”

“I’m not taking questions, Reid.”

He hisses. “Ouch. Reid.”

“Mhm. That’s how mad I am.”

“Okay, grouchy. Do you want a refill?”

You borderline pout, continuously perplexed by his kindness in the face of your insolence, but holding out your hollow cup for him anyway as you slouch lower in your seat. 

“Don’t call me grouchy.”

“Then don’t call me Reid,” he says, taking your cup as he passes, and you think you sense the faintest wash of amusement coloring his tone. 

The jet doesn’t do much to put pep in your step. 

“Aberdeen,” Morgan muses, letting his file closed on his lap. “Isn’t that where, uh, Kurt Cobain grew up?”

Spencer sits down in the chair next to you, setting the day’s third cup of coffee in front of you on the small table. “It is. It’s also where Washington’s first suspected serial killer William Gohl resided.”

“First of many,” Rossi amends. Reid nods. 

“In the US, Washington State comes in fifth place in terms of serial killers per capita. Some blame a widespread vitamin D deficiency. Just under eight hours of sunlight in the winter, the least in the contiguous United States.”

Emily gives an abhorrent rendition of a famous Nirvana riff, imitating a twangy electric guitar, before gesturing to your boss. “Hotch, you’re from Seattle. Did you ever get into Nirvana? The whole grunge scene?”

Hotch lowers his folder, giving her an unimpressed look. “Did you?”

While the exchange is amusing, the coffee is not perking you up and you’d like to be slightly less upright, if possible. You bump Spencer’s knee with your own, and he looks over at you obediently. 

“What’s up?”

“I wanna move to the couch.”

He nods and gets right back up. When you pass, and he doesn’t immediately follow, you turn around. Maybe the lack of sleep has rendered you unable to hide your look of contempt as he tries to sit back down. 

“What are you doing?”

Morgan snorts. “Uh oh. Lapdog almost forgot his training.”

“I am not a lapdog,” Spencer defends, giving Morgan a harsh look of his own, before following you, much to the amusement of the rest of the BAU. 

“Don’t listen to them,” you mutter as you step aside to let him pass. 

He settles into the corner of the couch. “I almost never do.” When you cozy up next to him, he seems surprised. “Um, hi?”

“I’m cold. You’re warm.”

“This is… unprofessional.”

You roll your eyes even though he can’t see. “Oh my god. They don’t care.”

That’s enough to shut him up. Eventually he relaxes, and though he doesn’t put his arm around you (they remain crossed in front of him) he doesn’t seem too distraught over the way you’re leaning against him, head on his shoulder. The sky is a soft grey where you can see it through the little rectangles lining the far wall, like a pale tea with plenty of milk. 

“What’s up with you, anyway?” He asks eventually, gingerly, and though he’s bold to ask it you know the last thing he means to do is offend. Luckily for him, he’s your soft spot. You let your eyes flutter shut against the boxes of diffuse light. 

“Tired.”

“I know that. You’ve had three cups of coffee and you’re still about to fall asleep.”

“Well… that’s all it was.”

“Mhm.”

“God, you’re—” you lift your head, about to give him a good old fashioned verbal lashing, but he’s so sweet looking, and he’s so kind to you even when he’s not, that you deflate—all your air coming out on a sigh as you settle back against him. “I… was… not home, when Hotch called me.”

“Yeah, you said you were at church?” He sounds utterly bewildered. Your heart melts, and you can’t hide the fondness seeping from every pore as you look up at him through your lashes. He really is so beautiful. 

“That was a joke, Spence. I was with a friend.”

His brows knit and a faint blush tinges his cheeks. 

“Oh. I knew that.”

And he really is getting better at detecting your brand of sarcasm. One day you doubt you’ll be able to pull any over on him, and he’ll stop being so adorable and bashful and embarrassed and sweet all the time. You don't relish the thought.

“What were you doing this morning?” You ask, in a bid to quell the very embarrassment you covet, because you’re not actually a demon, despite what Rossi had implied earlier. 

“Sleeping.”

You hum. Imagine taking his hand. Don’t really take it. 

“Me ’nd you should hang out outside of work more often.”

“Like… in the mornings?”

“Uh, probably not,” you laugh, your own face heating at the implication he’s only sort of and undoubtedly accidentally making. “I mean—we could. We could have breakfast sometimes.”

“I like breakfast,” he muses. “I know a couple of good spots. I can show you when we get back. There are these ube pancakes that are like bright purple on the inside. Have you had ube? I think you’d like them. The pancakes and the tuber. They’re the same color as your laptop case.”

You giggle, too tired for anything more dignified and too charmed for anything less authentic. Spencer has a moment of apparent self-awareness and after a second chuckles along with you, and like 99% of your moments with him, it’s a nice one. 

It slowly fades, and you sigh. 

“We’d probably get called in right in the middle of breakfast.”

“It’s always a possibility,” Spencer agrees, and you feel him nod. He smells really nice—clean and sort of cedar-y. Warm. 

“You ever think about how we’re just… robot arms to do the bidding of the federal government? We’re not even people. We’re cyborgs.”

“I’d love to be a cyborg.”

“But then you wouldn’t be so warm and comfy.”

“If I were a cyborg I could install a heating element. I’d still be warm. I don’t know about comfy. Maybe if I kept the biomechatronics to one side of my torso.”

“You’d install a heating element just for me? So we could keep cuddling?”

He clears his throat. You smile to yourself. 

“Why are we cyborgs, exactly?”

“Because we don’t get personal lives. The job comes first. I could be doing anything. I could be in the middle of eating bright purple pancakes with my good friend and colleague Spencer Reid and it doesn’t matter. If we get called in we have to leave.”

“If we were in the middle of breakfast, we could just… take our food to go and finish it at our desks.”

“Well—I guess it would be different if it was us, but with my other friends… it’s kind of a bummer, sometimes.”

You’re thinking about the friend you left this morning. Nobody you’re particularly invested in, but you wonder if that friend is still asleep in bed—and you realize you don’t much care. You’re glad to be here, and not there. 

“I think if the job didn’t feel worth it to you, you would’ve left by now. But you haven’t. You can complain all you want, but you show up every day.”

You scoff. 

“Fifteen to 45 minutes late, depending on how you look at it.”

“That is… atypical. You’re usually on time.”

“Usually…” you repeat darkly. A moment passes. An uncomfortable insecurity begins to bloom and ache like a rotting tooth. “Can I ask you a serious question?”

Spencer doesn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

“Do you think…” you falter, unused to this kind of vulnerability. A cloud swallows the jet and the cabin darkens into a place for secrets. “Do you think I’m worth the trouble?”

You know Spencer senses the unease like a sheepdog can sense a storm from the way he perks up next to you. He’s always been like that—incredibly attuned to the moods of others. You hope he doesn’t think profiling is just another of many learned skills. It’s a genuine talent, a sort of savantism in its own right. You can’t imagine him doing anything else as passionately as he does his job. Sometimes it almost makes you insecure. 

“What trouble?”

“Like… Hotch having to call me half an hour earlier than he calls the rest of the team. Or you, accepting my constant teasing. I know I’m—I can be kind of a diva. I don’t always really feel as professional as you guys. Or… qualified, maybe.”

You can imagine the way he’d narrow his eyes as he thinks this over, though you’d still like to see it for yourself—but you keep your head on his shoulder. In a way, he’s already getting a closer look at you than you usually grant to anyone. 

“I think… you’re good at your job. And you care more than you’d like to admit. That thing you do—where you sometimes show up a few minutes late, or you piss Rossi off on purpose, or you flirt with Hotch—I think… we all have things like that. We all self-sabotage, because it’s a really hard job, and I think we all wonder if we’re really qualified for it, or deserve to be in these positions, or if we even want the responsibility of trying to save people’s lives. But you’re a genuinely good person and a gifted profiler. And everyone else knows it, too.”

The deep thrum of the jet’s engine blurs the rest of the team’s incomprehensible chatting and the pounding of your heart into one big muddied streak of paint. Hopefully Spencer can’t feel the heat of your cheek through his shirtsleeve. 

“Oh,” you murmur. 

A moment passes. 

It’s a relief when Spencer’s anxiety comes bubbling up before your own can. “Sorry, was that too much?”

“No,” you hurry, “no, it was—no. That was really really nice of you to say. Thank you, Spencer.”

He relaxes. “Well… it’s all true.”

How could anyone ever deserve him? How does anyone get lucky enough to know a man like Spencer Reid?

When you burst through the other side of the cloud, the sun has come out. It burns away the milky early morning fog and makes your eyes ache just enough to finally wake you up. You blink and stretch against him like a cat. 

“Spence?”

“Hm?”

“I just want to clarify… I don’t flirt with Hotch. I flirt with you.”