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just-jordie-things · 2 years ago

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you know you got me in your pocket - okkotsu yuuta

word count: 13k warnings: light swearing. reader has a cursed technique that has to do with healing but i don’t explain it bc i’m lazy. summary: the path from friends to lovers may take time but it is a simple, true love they share more info: ultimate friends to lovers fic this IS the template a/n: loosely based on this fanart i found on pinterest and also the song always forever by cults bcuz i love that song its so friends to lovers coded ___

[ you and me, always, forever ]

Unlike most cases of friends who harbor crushes for each other but never seemed to figure it out, (y/n) had taken a liking to Yuuta the day they met. She’d known right away that there was something about him that drew her to him like a magnet, something adorably mysterious, strangely alluring, and completely thrilling.

Seeing him on campus wasn’t a surprise. Gojo had told her about his recruitment, and upon giving her further detail she’d lovingly told him it was more of a kidnapping. He’d laughed. And since then nothing had really changed. She continued her studies with Shoko in the infirmary, only occasionally seeing the Six Eyes when he needed a new audience to bother, and in fact, she’d almost forgotten the news of a new student her age.

It’s not like there were many instances where she could be reminded. She didn’t see the other students at Jujutsu Tech often, since they spent their time training to be sorcerers, while her cursed technique was more equipped for the behind the scenes of jujutsu society.

So when she feels a heavy presence of cursed energy looming through the front gates, the hair on the back of her neck stands up, and she’s unusually drawn out of her studies to scan the area for the source of the prickle traveling down her spine.

If she didn’t know better, she might have just assumed it was just Gojo. But it only takes a split second for her to identify this as someone else entirely. She’s not sure if her shiver is due to fear or intrigue, but either way she just has to learn more, doesn’t she?

And so you could imagine her surprise when she finally catches the sight of the sorcerer carrying all of this cursed energy, dragging along the main path on his way to the main building. She can’t recall his name right away, but she assumes he’s the new kid that Gojo had told her about a week or so prior.

She’s far enough away that she doesn’t get a good look at him, but she can see enough from where she sits amongst the trees. He’s not at all what she had been expecting.

He didn’t look like the piece of shit egotistical douchebag that she had assumed he’d be when Gojo had told her about him.

And if she couldn’t feel the cursed energy radiating off of him even from this far away, she might’ve thought he was a non-sorcerer altogether.

His shoulders sagged like gravity was heavier on him than most people. He moved slowly. His sneakers scraped along the pavement. His hands were fiddling with each other anxiously, fingers catching and pulling and twisting over and over.

Perhaps she was letting her curiosity make her naive, but any fear she might have felt when he first entered the courtyard dissipated as she tracked his awkward movements towards the school. Awkward. It was the perfect way to describe her first impression of him.

He hadn’t seemed to notice her during her assessment of him. And this was proven when their paths did properly cross.

It had happened late one evening, shortly after Yuuta’s initial admittance to Jujutsu Tech. It only took one text from Shoko for her to be out of bed, in her uniform, and on her way to the infirmary. Apparently, Yuuta was also racing around campus, for whatever reason, and that’s how he (almost literally) ran into her.

“Oh!”

His greeting was just as awkward as her first impression of him. She can’t help but laugh a little bit. He’s clearly flustered, his eyes wide and his mouth not making any proper words, and the large knife in his hand looks severely out of place.

But he must see her look straight at it while he’s trying to figure out how to politely ask who the hell she was because he’s never seen her before- because suddenly he remembers how to speak.

“This isn’t mine!”

He doesn’t mean to shriek, but he feels like he should explain why he’s running around at night with a knife. It doesn’t dawn on him at all that she’s used to people casually carrying weapons around, and this little knife isn’t even close to being a concern for her.

Nonetheless, she goes along with it. She should be rushing to the infirmary, but something keeps her put before him.

“Oh?” She tries not to laugh as she takes in his heavy wince. “While I find your courage outstanding, I’m not sure this is the place you want to go stealing people’s knives,” She’s only teasing, but it does nothing to relieve the panic on his face. “You know, cause people around here don’t need knives to kill you,”

Yuuta swallows, and (y/n) finally gives him a break and shakes her head as she laughs to herself.

He expresses his anxiousness in small shuffles of his feet, and he tries to laugh along but the sound is strained and nervous. If she knew him better and understood him, she likes to think she’d tell him to lighten up, but that feels like a bold step, so she tries to ease his anxiety with more subtlety.

“You didn’t spook me with that knife,” She clarifies. “I’d be more scared of all that cursed energy you’ve got, if anything”

“O-oh”

“But I’m not,” She tells him, matter-of-factly.

He gives her a look like he’s not sure if he should believe her. With the way the other students had reacted when they first met, he’s surprised she doesn’t have him in a chokehold right now. Instead, she stands before him without a defensive stance, and she gives him a small smile.

“But… what are you doing out this late?” She can’t help but have curiosity about what he was doing there in the first place. “Aren’t you all going out on an assignment first thing in the morning?”

Normally, she didn’t listen much when Gojo rambled on about his teachings. However yesterday’s lessons with Shoko had been few and far between, so when her old friend stopped by for entertainment, she boredly listened along while he bragged about taking his class on a group outing. She supposed that little piece of information became useful for small talk now.

“Yeah, well,” Yuuta sighed, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. “I was supposed to return this earlier, but I forgot, and now I…”

His words trail off, along with his eyes as he turns to stare at the floor out of embarrassment.

“I got lost”

“It’s Maki’s, isn’t it?” She asks knowingly, even though she’s not familiar with this knife.

Yuuta nods.

“I’ll show you the way” She says, gesturing for him to follow her, and walking off before he could really comprehend what she was offering. His sneakers squeak on the linoleum floor as he rushes after her a few seconds delayed.

He takes a minute or two before he finds the courage to say something.

“Thank you,” He settles, peeking over at her from the corner of his eye. “I’m Yuuta, by the way”

She turns to give him a beam as she replies, “I know,”

It has a lump forming in his throat, his chest filling with something warm and akin to bashfulness. He’d never seen her before, and he was certain he would have remembered if they’d met, especially since she was so pretty, but she appeared to be his age too, and he wondered why she hadn’t been around for any classes, or training sessions.

“I’m (y/n)” She introduces herself after a beat passes. Yuuta wants to say something more, but he doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything at all.

He fidgets with the knife as he follows her through the corridors. It’s a large building, and the longer they walk, the more he’s grateful he hadn’t gotten more lost than he had. It takes a few minutes until she finally stops at a door, and slides it open. Yuuta recognized it as soon as it’s contents were revealed.

Every inch of the walls were filled with weapons. Racks with blades and staffs of all shapes and sizes, shelves of an assortment of more alternative weapons, he’d been in here when Gojo had given him a speedy tour on his first day. Although now that he’s not being rushed from room to room, his gaze travels around the small space, taking in every deadly tool here.

“You’ll get used to it” (y/n) speaks, and he’s drawn out of his reverie when she plucks the knife from his hands to put it back in it’s proper place.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to any of this” He mumbles back, eyes caught on a rather daunting gun propped up among other things.

Nunchucks and knives were one thing. He was pretty sure that was an AK-47. He’d only ever seen those in movies.

(y/n) chuckles softly, amused by how out of place he seemed. For a guy with more cursed energy than he knew what to do with, she found it interesting how juvenile he came across.

Not that it was a bad thing. It was sort of… refreshing, if she thought about it.

“You will,” She assured him kindly. “It’ll feel weird for a while, but, yaknow. Eventually everyone settles in, right?”

He tears his eyes away from the machine gun to see that she’s giving him a small smile, and he doesn’t know her very well, or at all, but he can tell that she’s being genuine.

“I guess”

He doesn’t know what else to say.

“Well, I have to get going to a lesson,” She explains, jerking her thumb back towards the door. “You good to get back to your dorm? I probably wouldn’t get in trouble if I explained I was just helping the new kid”

Yuuta nods, the movement awkward, and shaky.

“Yeah, I’m good, I think” He doesn’t sound so sure, but (y/n) assumes the best way for him to learn his way around is to get lost just a little.

“Alright, I’ll see ya around then,” She gives him a wave as she ducks out of the small armory. “Good luck with your assignment tomorrow!”

Her voice carries as she jogs through the corridors to quickly get to where Shoko was waiting, leaving Yuuta to linger, a bit dumbfounded and bewildered by the whole interaction.

He supposed he’d gotten her name, but he still had no clue who she was. He’d have to make a better effort to reach out next time their paths crossed. She was the first person here to give him a semi-warm welcome, after all.

When (y/n) arrived at the infirmary with a brighter-than-usual smile and the remnants of a blush on her cheeks, Shoko eyed her curiously, but didn’t outwardly call her out on the strange demeanor.

[ say you’ll stay, never be severed ]

The next time Yuuta does see (y/n), he’s sitting alone at a picnic table in the courtyard with only the company of his lunch bag. He sees her walking out of the building with a bag on her shoulder. She’s clearly on a mission, but he finds himself calling out to her and waving his hand anyways.

He assumes she’ll give him a polite nod and keep heading on her way, but she stops in her tracks to turn his way, waving back, before she’s actually walking over to him.

It’s embarrassing to admit, but Yuuta panics a bit. He had yet to form any solid enough friendships with the other students in his year, hence the lunching alone out here, and he had a worry that soon she would also see him as a loner and an outsider, and she’d avoid him too.

But as she approaches the wooden table, she gives him a smile so friendly he could never believe it was forced.

“Hey,” Even her voice sounds kind. “You eating alone?”

“Uh-” Yuuta glances around as if looking for an excuse, but the bento box in front of him and lack of any other person around is evidence enough. “Yeah” He replies sheepishly.

Here it comes, Yuuta braces himself, the beginning of her thinking he’s a loner. He shouldn’t have even held onto that scrap of hope when she’d walked this way, but here he was, holding his breath.

“Want company?”

His head turns back to her, assessing if she really meant it, and seeing that small smile still curled on her lips, he gives her a short nod.

“Yeah,” He answers. “Yeah, that’d be… nice”

Her small smile turns into a grin as she sits on the bench across from him, setting her bag on the table.

“How are you settling in?” She asks him kindly, and he gives a weak shrug of his shoulders.

“I guess… as well as I can,” He says honestly, and she nods back in understanding. He pushes past the urge to sit in silence where he knows he can’t say the wrong thing, and continue talking to her. She’s nice, he tells himself. She’s nice, and I want to make friends here. I want to be happy here. “I think everyone’s a little afraid of me, to be honest,” He admits. “Or they’re annoyed with how behind all of them that I am”

“Maki can be a little stand-offish,” (y/n) thinks aloud. “And Inumaki is hard to get to know at first. But he’s a really nice guy once you do get to know him. Just don’t be nervous when he’s silent. He’s a goofball,”

Yuuta takes her advice to heart, hoping that she could give him all the keys to friendship he’d been lacking. He nods earnestly.

“And so is Panda,” She continued. “But it’s been awhile since there’s been someone new around here. That doesn’t really happen for us”

“Really?” He asks, and she nods.

“Yeah. Most of these people have known each other since they were young. Or at least are aware of each other’s clan politics”

“I see” Yuuta mumbles, feeling yet again like an outsider. (y/n) can tell this information doesn’t sit well with him.

“I think it’s nice,” She says boldly, and truthfully. He stares at her like she just said something ridiculous. “When the only people you get to see every day are people you’ve known your whole life, it can be sorta lonely,” She admits with a small chuckle. “It’ll be nice to get to know someone new,”

She leans over the table a bit, setting her elbows down so she can rest her head in her hands.

“If that’s not too forward” She says with a bashful smile.

Yuuta blinks once, twice, before shaking his head with certainty.

“It’s not” He says, fast.

“Good,” (y/n’s) beam brightens. “Want to have lunch with me again tomorrow?”

He nods again, his nerves starting to melt away, letting him smile back at her.

“Will you be in class tomorrow?” He asks hopefully. Maybe now he’ll finally have someone he can sit with, even if he’s still too shy to strike up a conversation, at least he won’t feel so alone all the time.

“Oh,” (y/n’s) lips quickly fall to a frown. “I’m actually not one of Gojo’s students,” She tells him, and it makes her sad to see him deflate so fast. “I’m training in the infirmary, with Shoko. Have you met her?”

Yuuta shakes his head.

“I don’t think so”

“Well I’ll introduce you sometime,” She tells him. “But I don’t have a decent enough cursed technique to be a sorcerer, so I’m studying under her in order to go more into the… background things” She explains.

“I see,” Yuuta tries not to let his disappointment show, so as not to make her feel bad. He focuses instead on getting to know her better. “So you’re working in, like, the medical field then?”

(y/n) nods her head from side to side.

“Something like that,” She chuckles. “It’s mostly watching Shoko use her technique to heal injuries after rougher assignments. I don’t get to use mine too much, but I’m starting to learn how to heal myself, so that’s a start, I suppose”

“That’s cool!”

(y/n’s) eyes blink wide in surprise.

“You can heal yourself?”

“I mean, I healed a papercut once” She laughs bashfully. In comparison to Shoko’s reverse cursed technique, doing a shoddy job at patching up a small slice on her finger seemed like a joke. But Yuuta grins like he’s never heard anything more interesting.

“You’re lucky,” He tells her, and she raises a brow at him, wondering if this was all some elaborate prank where he’d wind up laughing in her face at how weak she was compared to everyone else, compared to him. “That’s a really useful ability. That’s not background at all. It’s helpful”

As she processes the kind words, (y/n) wonders if this is why she’d felt drawn to him when they met a few nights ago. Underneath the shy exterior Yuuta displayed was nothing but kindness, and warmth. She could feel it in her cheeks, and in her chest. Her heart even stuttered a little.

“I mean, I barely have a handle on it,” She admits. “I don’t think I’ve been all that helpful to anyone”

“But you’re learning, right?” Yuuta shrugs a shoulder in understanding. “I guess that’s sorta how I feel, too,” He realized, dropping his gaze to his forgotten lunch as he thought about it. “I just want to be…”

He trails off, but (y/n) waits with eager anticipation for him to continue his thought.

“Useful”

His voice is quiet, and his expression is unsure as he looks back up at her. Suddenly feeling like that was far too pathetic of a thing to say to someone that he’d like to become friends with. But before he can backtrack and supply a better word, like strong or courageous, she’s grinning.

Her face nearly splits in two as her beam stretches from ear to ear, all teeth and twinkling eyes to match. A small laugh escapes her before she starts to nod passionately.

“That’s exactly how it feels,” She agrees, filling him with relief so strong it’s visible in the way his shoulders relax. (y/n) notices, but doesn’t say anything. Something warm and fuzzy nestles in her chest, and she has a good feeling about this new friendship blossoming.

Truth was, (y/n) got along fine with the other students here, but they’d only cross paths on occasion and she couldn’t say that she was necessarily close to any of them, simply on good terms enough to catch up in brief passing with one another. The disconnect between her studies and the rest of the sorcerers-in-training around here was a trench of a gap, and if she was honest with herself, it could prove to be a little lonely.

Shoko was a great teacher, she was kind and involved, but she was still a teacher. Gojo was… about the same, with just a bit more peskiness to him when it came to involving himself. But it was all in good nature, he knew that she was a bit isolated here.

But then Yuuta came along. And even just this short interaction had her glowing with excitement at finally forming a connection with someone. He probably thought she was just being pleasant since he was the new kid and he’d been eating lunch alone, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. She had a genuine interest in him that had started innocently enough, but she had a feeling it would only blossom into something more.

“I think that we’re going to be-”

She’s about to voice this thought, about to tell him that she knows in her heart that they’ll make excellent friends, but her timing was just a tad too slow, and she was interrupted by her phone ringing.

With the intention of silencing it and ignoring the call for now, she gives him an apologetic look before pulling it out of her pocket, only to huff when she realizes it’s not a call she can just silence.

“Sorry,” She frowns. “It’s Shoko, I should take this, she’s probably got something for me back at the lab”

“It’s alright,” Yuuta smiles as he shakes his head in understanding. “I get it”

“Thanks,” (y/n) grabs her bag as she jumps up from the table, disappointed to cut their time short, but excited to see what Shoko would have in store for her today. Before she can race off, she pauses, one hand gripping the strap of her bag and the other occupied with the phone that’s still ringing. “Lunch tomorrow though, right?” She double checks.

The pink that dusts Yuuta’s cheeks is undeniable, and it makes a smile bloom on her face, too.

“Right” He says with a shy nod while he rubs his clammy hands over his knees.

“Alright,” (y/n) nods back, and she’d like to think she’s smooth, but she’s blushing just the same. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, Okkotsu”

She takes off before she can see his face turn from pink to red, his enthusiasm for having plans with a friend- a cute friend- shining in the heat of his cheeks.

He spends the rest of his lunch period trying to think of things to talk to her about tomorrow, questions to ask, stories to share. He racked his brain for fifteen minutes before going to class, where he then gets a little lost in space as he wonders about it some more.

[ you know you got me in your pocket, you don’t just have to wait around ]

When (y/n) feels that lingering fuzziness in her chest turn into something more, it was shortly after she’d spent the better half of an hour telling Shoko that her friendship with Okkotsu Yuuta was just that. Friendship.

“If you say so,” The woman shrugged a shoulder as she pulled the gloves off of her hands, getting ready to wrap up the day. “Just sayin’. You talk about him a lot”

(y/n) gave her a look, blindly tossing her own latex gloves into the trash.

“He’s my friend, I like talking about him,” She explains with nonchalance, even though her heart stuttered in her chest a little bit, as it did every time she mentioned him. “And I’m also a boring person. There’s not much to talk about”

“That’s not true, but whatever” Shoko brushes off the lame excuse, and (y/n) rejoices inwardly that the topic can be dropped before Yuuta actually shows up in a few minutes.

Like most days, they had plans to meet up for lunch, except today they’ll be spending it with the rest of the first years. After a couple of months, Yuuta finally felt like he belonged here, and had made decent friendships with his peers. This morning he had texted her to ask if it was alright if they joined them.

[yuuta] : panda offered us seats at the lunch table with inumaki and maki too. do you want to have lunch with them?

[yuuta] : ok if not!! just wanted to extend the invitation !!

It had made (y/n) smile when that second text popped up so quickly on her phone after she’d opened the first right away. She could practically see him back pedaling just in case she wasn’t comfortable with a larger group for lunch. Of course she was, she’d typed back an agreement with a little smiley face within a few seconds of reading the texts, but it was sweet that he’d stick to their usual plan of just the two of them.

Don’t get her wrong, (y/n) had grown to really cherish the time the two of them spent together. She got to know Yuuta very well during their lunch breaks, and during a few hangouts after lessons and training, too. She was happy to see how much he opened up once you got to know him, and she loved learning more about him every day. He was kind, and funny in that nervous sort of way, and he picked up on things quickly.

The couple of times (y/n) had spent her breaks from the infirmary on the bleachers to watch him train with the other first years, she’d seen a drastic change in his abilities with each session. It wasn’t often that she was able to slip away long enough to get all the way to the bleachers, watch for a bit while having a snack or catching up on some reading, and then get back to the infirmary before Shoko called her out on trying to ditch her lessons. Still, she was always impressed with how fast of a learner Yuuta was. Whether it was with cursed energy or with a bamboo staff to practice wielding a proper katana, he seemed to be comfortable with learning how to fight.

In fact the last time she’d watched him, he looked so natural she could have assumed he’d grown up in jujutsu society just like the rest of them.

When he does make an appearance at the infirmary, Shoko notices him outside the door first. With a smirk, she nods her head to get (y/n’s) attention.

“Your friend is here,” She says with a teasing lilt in her voice, despite her face remaining as stoic as usual.

(y/n) gives her a look before turning around to see him waiting politely outside. When their eyes catch, she gives him a smile and waves at him to come in.

“Picking you up for lunch, hm?” Shoko hums. “What a little gentleman”

(y/n) shoots her another look, this time as if to say be nice when Yuuta walks in. He’s still wearing his sheath, but the awkward smile and nervous fiddling of his hands makes a sword on his back look out of place. For some reason, (y/n) has always found his simple juxtapositions adorable.

Despite having met Shoko before, a few times, actually, Yuuta always gets anxious around her. It was probably her quietly peculiar aura, something (y/n) had grown used to after so much time spent with her, but in comparison to Yuuta’s teacher who’d never learned to revel in peaceful silence, it could be intimidating.

He gave her a small wave and nod in greeting. Shoko smirked back at him before turning to (y/n).

“You two get back before too long, alright? No funny business”

Yuuta visibly paled, his mouth opening to make an explanation that wasn’t coming to mind and left him standing there gaping. (y/n) rolled her eyes as she grabbed her bag, hoisting the strap over her shoulder as she waved Shoko off.

“Bye Shoko” She said with a half-playful glare, before grabbing Yuuta by the sleeve and dragging him right back out the door before he even got the chance to say hello.

It’s not until they’re out in the hall that he finds his voice.

He tugs at his collar to relieve some of the heat from his neck.

“How were lessons today?” He settles for the safe topic of conversation. Predictably, (y/n) lets out a small laugh. She always seemed amused when he was uncomfortable. He had yet to understand why.

“Good,” She’s kind to him today, not teasing him for his flustering. At least not beyond that little smirk that makes her eyes glint when she looks at him. “You?”

He nods his head from side to side.

“Maki kicked my ass,” He said sheepishly. “But I did get a hit today” He said in a quieter voice, but there was still a hint of pride in his voice. (y/n) beamed at him. She understood this was a meaningful accomplishment.

“That’s awesome!” She cheered for him. “You’ll knock her down next time for sure,”

He thinks she could be messing with him, but when he looks over at her, her beam is nothing but genuine. He laughs quietly, not as sure as she was, but appreciative of the sentiment nonetheless.

“Just make sure to invite me next time you spar,” (y/n) continues. “I want to be there for the big day”

Sometimes, she has a way of speaking that makes Yuuta wonder why she doesn’t really hang out with anyone but him. She wasn’t exactly a soft person, he supposed it was this line of work they shared, but there was something inherently friendly about her. He’d noticed it the first time they’d met, of course, and ever since he couldn’t ignore it if he tried. For whatever reason, she seemed not only to care about him, but she actually believed in him, too. More and more, Yuuta began to wonder why.

Inumaki, Panda, and Maki are already at a table with their lunches before them when Yuuta and (y/n) arrive. Panda notices them first, grinning and waving a paw for them to join.

“(y/n)! Long time no see!” His voice holds pure joy upon her arrival, “How’s the infirmary?”

“Oh, you know,” (y/n) smiles as she shrugs her shoulders. “Blood. Bones. Repeat. I can’t complain”

Panda and Toge are sitting on one side of the table, Maki on the other, and (y/n) happily sits beside her. Yuuta follows shortly.

“Yuuta told me next time, he’s going to knock your ass out,” She says boldly. Maki raises a brow, her chopsticks stilling over her dish. “You’ll let me come watch, yeah?”

Maki’s eyes shift to Yuuta, a glare behind them that has him straightening in his seat. Maki smirks at his discomfort, and when she turns back to (y/n), she grins ear to ear.

“I do love an audience,” She agrees, her smirk stretching into a grin at the idea. She looks back to Yuuta, who’s focused intently on his rice. “You two have been gettin’ real chummy, huh?”

(y/n) simpered at the comment. Yuuta tucked his chin against his collar in hopes that they wouldn’t notice the way his face bloomed with heat.

“Tuna, tuna” Inuamki giggles as his elbow bumps into Panda’s arm, and he too begins to chuckle as they watch the pair’s reactions to Maki’s simple observation.

“(y/n’s)- uh- she’s-”

“Yuuta’s a great friend” (y/n) speaks before Yuuta’s stammering can be laughed at any further.

“Must be, to make you finally come hang out with us” Panda says as he tries to quell his amused chuckling.

“Ikura” Toge mutters.

“Yeah,” Panda nods in agreement with the cursed speech user. “We didn’t think you liked us anymore”

Yuuta peeks over at (y/n) in his peripheral vision, but she plasters on a smile and shakes her head to disagree.

“Been busy” She says simply. There is no follow up, no explanation or excuse. She pops a grape into her mouth and leaves it at that.

Their lunch continues on as expected. Catching up, teasing, swapping food. Thirty minutes seem to pass faster than ever. And despite enjoying himself amongst his friends, Yuuta can’t help but hyperfixate on that small, odd interaction.

It appeared as though (y/n) and the other first years had gotten along just fine. Even mirroring old friends. But he couldn’t help but feel like something was off, that things hadn’t always been this way, that there was a rift he hadn’t been present for. He knows better than to question it straight away, so he matches energy and remains friendly the rest of the break.

But after telling his classmates he’ll meet up with them shortly, he lingers at the table while (y/n) packs up her things.

“That was nice” His voice feels stiff. He clears his throat.

(y/n) looks up at him as she pulls the strap of her bag over her shoulder, a soft smile curling on her lips.

“It was” She affirms.

Yuuta shifts his weight from foot to foot as he tries to find the right thing to say next. (y/n) watches this, and waits, patiently, for him to continue.

“I mean I… I like having lunch just… us,” He says, slowly, afraid of sounding too forward and insinuating something that could be off putting to her. “But I’m glad you wanted to hang out with…”

He struggled to find the right thing to say. (y/n) tilted her head at him curiously, before providing the words for him.

“Your friends?” She suggests with a small smile.

Yuuta blinks, color spreading over his cheeks before his smile mirrors hers, and then he nods.

“Yeah,” He concurred.

It must have been a rush of courage that compelled him to say what he did next, because as soon as he said it out loud, blood rushed up his neck and into his cheeks.

“You’re a great friend, too, by the way. I’m glad you were here. Or, well, are here”

She laughs, not because what he was was funny, but because she was overcome by delight by his words that she simply couldn’t contain it. Her fingers curl tightly around her bag, her heart flutters with something sickeningly sweet in her chest.

This was that something more. This wasn’t just silly eagerness towards a new friend. This much more. It was heavy. It filled her heart until it burst and flooded her body with warmth, traveling down her spine in ticklish sparks, and ending in the tips of her fingers and toes. It almost felt like cursed energy, the way it buzzed through her excitedly, on it’s own accord, but she knew better.

This was infatuation. She was infatuated with Yuuta. She had feelings for Yuuta.

“I’m glad you’re here, too, Yuuta,” She speaks with every genuine bone in her body, now reinforced with that tingling feeling that has her soft smile turning into a full blown grin. “Really glad” She repeats softly.

He should feel embarrassed because he knows he’s blushing and he’s having a hard time holding eye contact with her, but for some reason, he doesn’t feel embarrassed at all. Instead he smiles, bright and beautiful.

“I- I have to-”

“You have class,” (y/n) laughs bashfully, turning away in an attempt to calm her warm cheeks and dopey grin. “You should go before you’re late- I- I should go before I’m late” She stammers over her words, which is unlike her and more like him.

“Right, yeah,” He nods in a jerky motion as he starts to turn to leave, realizing he was going to have to run now if he wanted to make it on time. “But I’ll- I’ll see you after? Maybe? Or do you have plans already we can just wait till tomor-”

“After lessons works” (y/n) agrees.

“Okay- okay, yeah,” He’s still beaming, giddy with excitement now. “After lessons” He repeats.

(y/n) giggles as she begins to make her way back towards the infirmary, in the opposite direction as him. She gives him a small wave as she takes off, and Yuuta’s stunned in place for a moment before realizing that his tardiness was going to get him into trouble.

When (y/n) bursts through the infirmary doors with a string of excuses and pink cheeks, Shoko doesn’t say a word. Not that she has to, her face says it all.

Yuuta is not spared in the same way. When Gojo asks where he’s been, Panda is happy to supply what- or who- had kept him occupied. He was teased relentlessly for the following fifteen minutes, but it didn’t bother him too much. Sure, he was a little awkward at handling it and brushing off their assumptions. He just hoped his classmates wouldn’t meddle and tell her about it later.

[ just come here and we can settle down ]

If Yuuta ever underestimated anything in his life, it was Gojo Satoru’s joy in meddling.

It’s a few weeks after the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons. Jujutsu High is still under reconstruction, but it’s getting somewhere. The gardens are being replanted, the courtyard isn’t just a pile of rubbish anymore, and slowly but surely, everyone is healing.

Especially thanks to (y/n), who had mastered her cursed technique. Just in time too, as there were a lot of people that needed help.

Maki was finally recovering after pushing herself through physical therapy at a rate faster than (y/n) had ever seen in anyone before. She was more amazed than surprised. She would never underestimate that young woman’s abilities.

Toge was just starting to use his voice again, despite all of his friends telling him to just keep his mouth shut even if he was speaking in onigiri ingredients. His sore throat still made his words sound choked and raspy, but he communicated with his friends nonetheless.

There were many other sorcerers that had gotten hurt that night, but just as her friends had, they were recovering, physically and mentally, from that horrible night.

Today the sun was shining. It was still a chilly January day, but something about the clear skies drew (y/n) to linger on the steps of the main building. She studied them beneath her boots. Now that they were clear of snow, it looked as though a different color of stone was selected for their redesign. Not too different, it was still a light brown, almost like sand, but different enough that the longer she stared at them, the more she could pick out the other differences between these and the old ones.

“Ditching lessons?”

Her eyes drag slowly away from the stone steps to see Gojo Satoru scaling them towards her. His long legs had him next to her in a matter of seconds. Truthfully, Shoko had said she needed a longer smoke break than usual today- which was only unusual because ever since christmas, she’d been taking longer smoke breaks, she’d only just mentioned it today.

“Not really. Maybe” (y/n) replied indecisively.

“I’m still a teacher you know,” Gojo laughs at her honesty. “I could get you in trouble~”

The grin on his face tells her that there was absolutely no bite to his bark. He just liked to pretend to be an adult sometimes. (y/n) gives him a half hearted smile in amusement. His grin weakens at the way hers drops as soon as she stares down at the stairs again.

He already knows what’s on her mind. He was a better teacher than even he gave himself credit for.

“So he told you about Africa, huh?”

Her head shoots back up, brows furrowed in a sad expression as she frowns at him.

Yeah, he told me about Africa, she thinks, bitterly, even the thought making her mouth go sour. She gnaws at the inside of her cheek roughly.

“I know you’re close. I’m sorry that it’s happening,” Gojo sighs. He stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Kid’s got real potential. He might even be stronger than me,”

Just like his grin, his smirk speaks volumes. (y/n’s) not sure if he really believes that, but she can tell he believes in Yuuta.

“Special Grade Sorcerers aren’t what they used to be, huh?” He asks, and she’s not sure if it’s rhetorical, so she just shrugs her shoulders, and directs her gaze downwards again.

Her throat burns. Was that tears?

“It won’t just be Africa,” Gojo says, slowly, like he’s trying to be careful. She’s never known him to tread lightly. He must really worry about her feelings. She wonders why. “Once he’s mastered his techniques, the geezers are gonna throw him at every curse they can sniff out”

“I know”

Her voice is small, but it holds enough certainty for Gojo to understand that she doesn’t need to be told what Yuuta’s future has in store.

“So,” Gojo takes a different tone as he kicks the toe of his shoe into a step. “You’re not bothered that he’s a young widow, hm?”

(y/n’s) face contorts into something strange and confused as she looks at him again. She could almost laugh, if she wasn’t so disturbed by her teacher prying into her personal life. She could tell him to buzz off, but it’d make no difference. He’d probably just pester Shoko for the details and that would be even more embarrassing.

“I don’t even know what to-”

“He cares about you a lot too,” Gojo says before she can finish. (y/n’s) features relax as her eyes widen a little. He looks out into the courtyard as if something interesting was happening over there. “But Africa will be good for him. And he’ll be back soon enough. I’ll try ‘n pull some strings to have him visit, or something”

Her impulse to say something snarky and get him to move on from the topic disappears. Instead, she gives him a small nod, before tucking her cold fingers into the pockets of her coat.

“That would be nice,” She tells him, quietly, but surely. “Thank you”

Gojo grins from ear to ear as he turns back to his. She has a feeling that under the white bandages, he’s winking dramatically.

He leaves without another word, leaving (y/n) a little bewildered by the sudden exit. But then she sees another figure ascending the steps, and suddenly the cold isn’t the only thing making her cheeks pink.

Yuuta gives her the same smile he always does when he crosses her path. Whether in passing or when he’s meeting up with her to hang out, his lips curl into the warmest smile she’s ever seen. Even as clouds creep across the sky and snow begins to fall, she starts to feel toasty in her hat and coat.

She lies and tells him she has a few minutes to spare even though she’s been gone from the infirmary for a good twenty minutes now. As they take a short walk around campus, her mood lightens up.

They don’t talk about Africa. Only good things. A funny meme she’d seen, how Toge will be by the infirmary later because he refuses to keep his mouth shut to heal properly. Maybe that wasn’t so much of a good thing, but Yuuta is laughing as he tells her about the pile of bloodied tissues accumulated at Toge’s desk. Despite the twinge of guilt for laughing at their friend’s discomfort, she can’t help it. Yuuta’s happiness is infectious.

This must be what swooning feels like, she thinks as she stares up at him while he tells her about his day. It’s a silly story, maybe even kind of boring, but she hangs onto every word with eager anticipation at what he would share next. He could read her the goddamn newspaper and she’d sit there with her head in her hands and give him her undivided attention. Yeah, this is probably swooning.

“When do you have to be back?” Yuuta cuts off his rambling about training when he realizes they’ve been walking for some time now.

“Oh,” (y/n) shrugs sheepishly. “Probably ten minutes ago”

His eyes widen and he stops in his tracks, and before he even speaks she knows he’s about to apologize for taking up her time, so with a small laugh she shakes her head at him before he says a thing.

“Don’t worry about it,” She says, urging him to keep walking with her. “Shoko needed some extra time today. I don’t mind if I’m a little late”

“You’re sure?” He double checks, because he doesn’t like being responsible for getting her behind schedule. Nonetheless, he catches up to her as she keeps walking along the path.

Little does he know, if he asked her to ditch the rest of the day with him, she would take him by the hand and sprint off campus.

“Positive” (y/n) replies.

They continue to walk in the snow and talk about anything but Africa. An unspoken agreement that it could wait.

[ oh darling, it’s alarming, to think of us apart ]

Eventually, they have to talk about Africa.

It comes up the morning Yuuta leaves.

It’s early enough in the morning that it’s still dark. Panda had helped him load his bags into Ijichi’s car, before giving him a quick goodbye so he could go back to bed. Maki and Toge lingered a little longer, even in their pajamas. But at some point Maki cursed about how early it was, gave her new friend a friendly- but not light- punch to the shoulder, and returned inside.

Toge and (y/n) were equally quiet, although for their different reasons. Eventually Yuuta couldn’t fill the silence anymore, and they were out of time to stall.

To his surprise, Toge gave him a quick hug. Just enough to give him a kind pat on the back and an eager ‘salmon!’ certainly wishing him luck on his big assignment. Yuuta thanked him with a grin, proud to understand what he really meant.

Then he turned to (y/n), who’d barely moved an inch since sleepily walking out here. He’d insisted to everyone last night that they could say their goodbyes then, but she’d stood her ground that she’d see him off today. The others agreed.

Her arms were wrapped firmly around herself, and the smile on her face was sad when his eyes met hers. Even when she tried to brighten up, to properly display her pride in him, she just couldn’t quite do it.

Toge watched as they stared at each other for a moment, neither one of them finding anything to say. For a minute he thought it might be awkward, and he figured he should probably leave now.

It only took Yuuta one step forward, his arms barely outstretched, before (y/n’s) finding the energy to leap towards him, crashing into him. Her arms are thrown around his neck as she hugs him tightly. As she tucks her chin against his shoulder she’s willing herself not to cry, because she knows it would make him feel bad, and that wouldn’t be fair. Yuuta’s surprise has him hesitating for a second before he’s hugging her back, hoping to hold on just as securely as she’d latched onto him.

“Text a lot,” When she’s certain her voice won’t crack, (y/n) finally speaks. “And call, too”

Yuuta chuckles. His eyes close as he rests his cheek against her head. She’s never hugged him before, but he’s decided from this one that she’s the best hugger in the world.

“The time difference is-”

“I don’t care” She mutters, and it’s punctuated with her arms squeezing around him a little tighter.

He returns the affection.

“Okay” He murmurs.

When they have to part, she lets out a shaky breath, and plasters on the widest smile she can. She hopes he can see the tears in her eyes. He does.

He gives her and Toge a wave before finally opening the door to the backseat. He doesn’t say goodbye. Instead he settles for, “See you later”

(y/n) manages a little wave back. It’s not until the car pulls away and is out of sight before a tear falls. She’s quick to wipe it away.

Her and the cursed speech user walk back towards the main building together. He gives her a sympathetic look. She gives him a weak smile.

“Yeah, I know,” She sighs, drying her eyes once more and taking a deep breath in the hopes of not crying again.

He smiles back, but unlike hers, it’s bright, and cheeky. He draws a heart in the air with his fingers. She wants to roll her eyes, but she lets out a watery laugh at the action, and she knows her face is heating up with evidence of the truth.

“Something like that” She mumbles. They don’t say anything else before parting ways to go back to their rooms.

By the time she collapses back in bed, she’s too awake to think about sleeping a little longer before her lesson with Shoko. Pulling out her phone for a source of entertainment, she finds she already has a notification at this ungodly hour.

[yuuta] : try not to miss me too much :) i’ll be back before you know it

Tucking the blankets up to her chin, (y/n) settles into bed with a small smile. Yuuta wasn’t often cheeky. And when he was, it was always followed by a nervous laugh and bright pink cheeks. Behind the shield of his phone he clearly has a leap in confidence. She even laughs a little as she types back her response.

[ you and me, always, forever ]

Yuuta had some mixed feelings about going to Africa.

On the one hand, he was ecstatic. He had finally climbed the ranks in this new life that he thinks could make everything make sense. He felt a new sense of responsibility along with his new sense of self, and he knows that this debut of his in Africa was the next big step forwards. He’d prove himself, he’d push himself, and he’d come home stronger than before. He’d make his friends, and his teachers, proud of taking a chance on him.

On the other hand, his new purpose, this new sense of self that he was still discovering, felt so much more worth exploring when she was there too. Yuuta wasn’t as naive as some may make him out to be. He knew what love felt like. He recognized that the ticklish feeling in his chest when she laughed, he was familiar with the buzz in his fingertips when she walked too close and her hand brushed over his. He knows when he’s lying awake at night and she’s the one who crosses his mind that it’s no coincidence.

Yuuta knows that his heart holds much more than platonic regards for one (y/n) (y/l/n). He knows that he adores her. He knows that his heart longs for her in a way that couldn’t possibly be platonic. The fact that they’ll have to be apart for some time makes him sad. It makes him lonely.

Even now, after seeing her twenty minutes ago when they said their goodbyes, he already missed her. He couldn’t help but text her right away, the desperation for keeping in contact pumping through him like ice, making him feel wide awake even at five in the morning. The thought of losing touch over the next few months of him being away makes him sweat.

He’d have to make sure to keep in touch, he makes a mental plan to always text her first thing in the morning, and last thing before he goes to sleep. That way, even if he got busy throughout his day, he’d always have the time for her. He wanted her to know that he’d always make the time for her.

Yuuta’s heart is racing, the adrenaline a toxic mix of excitement and anxiety. Had he eaten a proper meal this morning he might’ve thrown up.

Just as he’s contemplating rolling down the window for some fresh air, his phone pings.

[(y/n/n)]: i take it you miss me already, yuuta?

It’s a silly little emoji, but he swears she’s sent him her heart in digital form and it leaps right from the screen and into his open palms. He's smiling at the screen and responding with a reaction image he’d snagged from Toge just a few days ago.

[ you and me, always, forever ]

Gojo follows through on his promise. Yuuta comes back to Jujutsu Tech for a small break after two months in Africa.

He gets to campus earlier than expected, surprising his classmates in the middle of a lesson. Luckily today the lesson was rating the different flavors of kikufuku from a new shop Gojo had found, so he hadn’t interrupted anything too pressing.

It’s shortly after his early arrival that he asks the question that his friends think they should have placed money on him asking. Maki mutters something to Toge about how she would’ve won had they done so.

“Where’s (y/n)?”

While he stares at them with a dumbfounded expression, his friends laugh. Loud cackling that’s intended to make him feel embarrassed, but he’s more confused than anything. Even Gojo joins in once he’s not distracted by his leftover treats and Panda merrily tells their teacher that Yuuta’s already sick of them.

“That’s not it!” The poor boy puts his hands up in mock defense as he jumps to explain himself. “I just want to tell her I’m back-”

“She’s in the infirmary, genius” Maki crosses her arms, but her displeased attitude crumbles when a smirk tugs on her lips. Yuuta forces a smile, but it’s awkward. His nervous energy begins to shine through his excitement about returning home.

It’s not long after this that he’s delivering a string of excuses before darting out of the classroom and running to the infirmary. Was it a little embarrassing to race towards her like this? Yeah, but there was barely anyone on campus right now anyways, so no one had to know just how eager he was to see her again.

Even though every bone in his body was practically vibrating by the time he made it there.

He peers through the small windows on the heavy doors outside the hospital classroom, making sure it was safe to enter before he barged in. As soon as he looks inside he sees Shoko leaning against the cabinets. (y/n) was standing in front of her, her back to the door, but she was easily recognizable to him. Before he can knock to make himself known, Shoko catches him in her line of sight, and gives him an uncharacteristically wide grin.

In fact it’s so unusual on her face, that (y/n) perks up in the midst of whatever conversation they were having, curious to see what could've caught her interest so much.

Okkotsu Yuuta was not at all what she might have expected.

He gets to watch her light up in real time. He hears her excitedly squealing from the other side of the door. And somehow, even though it’s been a whole two months since he’s seen her, the ten seconds it takes for her to fly through the doors and into his arms seems to take too long.

She crashes into him so hard he stumbles to balance his footing. She’s laughing and bouncing and rambling on, ‘I’m so happy you’re here! You’re early! I would’ve helped you with your things! Have you settled in? Have you eaten? Should we go get some food? I’ll order food! And we can stay in!’ She’s talking so fast that he catches about half of what she’s saying. He only chuckles, not having the heart to tell her he can barely understand her.

Her arms squeeze tight around his neck before she finally lets him go. With twinkling eyes and a smile so wide it must be sore on her cheeks, Yuuta’s slowly melting heart completely dissolves.

“Your hair’s different” She tilts her head at him while she admires the way his slightly longer hair is styled around his face. She lets her curiosity get the best of her, reaching a hand out to gently push a strand away from his forehead.

Yuuta hadn’t really given any thought to his hair. He can’t remember when exactly it had gotten too long, when he’d parted it differently so it wasn’t a hindrance, but now he’s second guessing the change in style as if that change had been a conscious choice.

“Bad different?”

There’s a small giggle in the back of her throat that she can’t help when his brows furrow at her. He’s so cute, she thinks her heart could melt right here.

She shakes her head at him in a small motion.

“No,” She assured him. “Good different”

A small smile tugs at the corners of his lips, a proud little smile, like he’d gotten her to admit her deepest, most well kept secret.

“Good different?” He repeats, his voice dripping with mirth.

She rolls her eyes and crinkles her nose, but there’s no hiding the warmth in her cheeks and the way her dimples show when she smiles, even when she ducks her head from him.

“Shut up, Yuuta,” She pushes his shoulder but just as quickly grabs him by the elbow. “Now come on! The day’s almost over already and we have so much we need to catch up on!”

She forgets her bag in the infirmary as they wander campus together for a while, making pitstops to get him unpacked for his short visit and to snack up before they make their simple plans for the evening. Conversation never ceases, even when she’s trying to place a takeout order over the phone, she finds herself remembering various little stories and jokes that she’d tucked away in her memory to share with him.

There’s been a change in him. It wasn’t just the training that treated him well with lean muscle, it wasn’t just the haircut, or the way he’d learned to wield his katana like it was an extension of him. It was confidence. It was happiness. He didn’t stutter over his words nearly as often. When he spoke he was sure of the things he said. He would still blush when she got close enough or whispered something exceptionally sweet to him, but he was better at holding eye contact, and grew quite comfortable with reciprocating the small affections. Maybe that was just it, he was finally comfortable here, and with himself.

Time flies faster than it had when they were apart. The afternoon turns to evening which turns to the middle of the night. They’re still sitting on the common room couch, side by side, lost in their own little world as a forgotten movie plays in the background. Some of it had been watched when they’d eaten, but the takeout boxes on the coffee table are empty now. Yuuta’s yawning and (y/n’s) eyelids are heavy as she tries to keep her attention on him while he tells a story, his voice getting lower and his words coming out slower the later it gets. It’s not until he’s slumping into the uncomfortable cushions of the old couch that they even think to check the time.

When they do decide they’ve been up for too long, they make their way sneakily back to their rooms, hoping to remain as silent as possible. But anyone who was up at this hour would hear their hushed laughter and aggressive shushing. Yuuta bids her goodnight with the promise of taking everyone out for breakfast in the morning, but before he drops her off at her door, they share one more embrace.

She means to keep it quick, she really does. She knows he’s tired, and maybe a little annoyed with all of the affection today, but she was so happy to have him back that she couldn’t help but want to keep him close forever.

Yuuta doesn’t seem annoyed in the slightest. He hugs her back tightly, and makes no move to let her go anytime soon, so she doesn’t, either. They stand that way at her door for an unknown amount of time, each waiting for the other to pull away first.

It takes some time, but eventually she shuffles out of his hold and gives him a bashful little smile followed by, “I’m really glad you’re home, Yuuta”

The tension lays itself on thick, making sure to smother Yuuta until the back of his neck feels hot and his heart beats so hard in his chest he’s certain she’s going to notice and tease him for it.

“Me too” He manages to murmur back.

He’s lucky he’s able to return her sweet ‘goodnight!’ too, because his throat is tightening on itself and he thinks he could start choking just standing there.

When he drags himself back to his own room and his heart calms down- just a little bit- Yuuta decides he’s going to have to do something about that tension before it kills him.

[ you and me, always, forever ]

“This is getting ridiculous,” Maki declares before kicking open the classroom door. Her two friends follow in behind her. “It’s actually going to make me sick. I think we should just say something already”

“Don’t kick doors down Maki” Panda sighs, but his warning goes ignored.

“Salmon,” Toge shrugs his shoulders, raising his hands to be palms up, as though indicating what else is there to do?

“Well for starters, we get the idiots to talk to each other,” Maki states, picking up the notebook off her usual desk.

It was the whole reason they came back to class so late in the day, seeing as this particular notebook had the notes from their lesson earlier. It was important she made the trip back for it before they started their study session. She did take the better notes of the three of them.

“Apparently all their time together isn’t getting anywhere,” She huffs. “I swear, all he does is talk about her. He’s bound to have something good enough to confess already, right?”

Toge giggles into his collar.

“Ease up a bit, they’ll come around to it when they’re ready, won’t they?” Panda tries to be the voice of reason.

There’s a pause for silence. And then Toge and Maki are cackling so hard they have to hold their stomachs to relieve the twisting knots of their muscles.

“It’s been months!” Maki hollers through her mania.

“Salmon!”

“I mean, how much more of this can you guys take?” She doesn’t give them the time to answer her question. “I can’t stand listening to him ramble on and on about her. Did you know the one phone call I got, he talked about her the whole time?”

“You’ve mentioned” Panda mumbles, awkwardly rubbing the back of his head.

“Tuna tuna” Toge agreed, before making a crude motion with his hands that had Maki bursting into laughter again.

Maki rolls her eyes, before grabbing her missing notebook from her desk and stuffing it into her backpack. She’d been holding back on intervening on these two for months now. At first, she didn’t care enough. If (y/n) and Yuuta wanted to dance around each other like children with crushes then that was their business. But now the romantic tension was so thick it choked her up to be in a room with them. The lingering stares, the flirty giggles, the blushing- gah- she couldn’t stand it.

Don’t get her wrong, she didn’t hate love, and she didn’t hate either of them for being in love. She hated wimps. And these two were being the wimpiest people she’s ever seen for not fessing up already.

Also, wasn’t she just being a good friend for getting two dumbasses in love to admit they’re in love with each other? She did want them to be together after all, they were good for each other.

“I think it’s sweet that he loves her so much!” Panda argues. “I don’t mind listening to it. (y/n’s) really nice. They deserve each other”

“Oh, yeah, they deserve each other,” Maki agrees but her tone drips with something hostile. “No shit, do you not see how much she stares at him?”

Toge’s snickering gets louder. It wasn’t often there was gossip among the small group, there wasn’t exactly time for it. But this was rather entertaining, and watching two of his friends trip over themselves with how hard they’d been crushing on each other had been the cherry on top.

“Well, yeah,” Panda finally lets out a small laugh. “Actually, the other day I was talking to her, and I don’t think she heard a word I said,” He chuckles as he recalls the way her eyes glazed over and a dopey little smile took over her face. “I don’t know how he hasn’t noticed it”

“Salmon” Toge scoffs.

“Yeah, he’s more oblivious than she is” Maki agrees.

“But I don’t think we should do anything about it” Panda tries to reason.

“They’re never going to make a move if we don’t say something,” Maki huffs. “Can’t they just get it over with already? How hard is a confession anyways?”

“Like you’ve ever confessed to anyone” Panda throws back at her with a proud grin.

Toge makes a sound of delight to see the gossiping turning into something much more interesting.

Maki glares at the both of them before snarling.

“That’s it!” She declares, throwing her bag over her shoulder. “I’m going to go tell them right now. Whoever I find first is going to hear great news today!”

“Maki don’t!” Panda hollers, marching after her out the door. “It’s not our place! That’s an invasion of privacy!”

Toge’s enthusiastic babbling of rice ball ingredients follows them out into the hall, eager to see where this was going to go.

The classroom door slides shut behind him, and the sounds of their heavy, quick footsteps drones on until they’re too far to be heard. It’s not until the room is completely silent that a small exhale of relief is heard, under the large desk that Gojo pretended to use during his lessons.

“I think we’re in the clear” Yuuta whispers, once he’s absolutely certain that no one is left in the room.

He drops his hand from over (y/n’s) mouth, where she’s been gnawing on her bottom lip for the last six minutes in fear that their classmates were going to notice them hiding under there.

“Really?” She asks in a teasing tone of voice. “Because it sounds like they’re looking for us”

Yuuta huffs in defeat, a look on his face that completely contrasts her own. (y/n’s) brightened, grinning from ear to ear and giggling under her breath.

They’re squished into the small space so when she giggles he can feel her breath fanning over his neck, and even though he wants to grab her by the shoulders and make her come back to reality- which is that their friends are on a rampage right now to get them to confess to each other, something they’d just done minutes before they’d stormed into this very classroom- but he can’t. He takes one look at her, with her starry eyes and cute smile and he accepts whatever fate has in store for him.

(y/n) had surprised him here, happily announcing she wrapped up her lessons early so that they could spend the afternoon together. He only had a few days left until he’d be shipped off to Africa again, so she’d worked diligently today to be sure she could give him every spare minute of her free time. Somehow they’d wound up in the classroom alone.

One minute Yuuta’s going on about how excited he was to hang out with her and the next thing he knows he’s accidentally letting it slip that he’d like to have her all to himself all the time. He realized instantly that he’d said something a little too romantically charged because suddenly she’s staring up at him with those damn wide eyes and a smile full of secrets.

He must’ve said something right though, because one thing led to another and she had an iron grip on his collar while her strawberry gloss smeared all over his mouth.

(y/n) smirks now as she reaches her thumb up to his lips now, wiping away a subtle speck of pink glitter that had been left behind there. Her face heats up as she recalls how carried away she’d gotten just minutes ago. Until their friends showed up and nearly caught them in the act.

Had Maki kicked down that door just a minute earlier, they surely would’ve been caught in their scrambling. More specifically, they would’ve caught the awkward way Yuuta had lifted (y/n) off the desk he’d just set her on, only to hustle them both under the desk, the only half-decent hiding place in this whole room.

“You’re kidding,” She’d mumbled when he drew his knees to his chest and beckoned her to duck under with him. She crowds into the space, but not without scolding him. “They’re definitely going to-” He covers her mouth with his large palm, effectively quieting her, just as the door slams open.

Now she knows they should be scrambling out of here, before they were eventually caught- again- but she stays put in the tiny space where their legs are sore and cramped together.

“So you talk about me to all your friends, hm?” She muses, leaning in impossibly closer to give him her best shit eating grin. It easily has Yuuta blushing from his neck to his ears as he turns his head to relieve himself from the heavy eye contact.

“Yeah yeah,” He mumbles, tugging at his collar in an attempt to soothe the heat. Just as the embarrassment settles in, he whips his head back to meet her stare with a wild look in his eye that actually catches her off guard. “But you’ve been staring at me!” He says.

She opens her mouth to defend herself, but the proof had been hollering in this very room just moments ago during Maki’s fit. Panda had happily supplied the damn evidence.

So she shuts her mouth, and now Yuuta’s beaming at her with victorious pride.

“So it’s true!?” He asks excitedly.

“You already know that, jerk,” She rolls her eyes at him, but it’s filled with affection. “You’re the one who’s in love with me!” She says with a jab to his chest.

Yuuta catches her hand with his before she can pull it away, making her pleased little grin fall to something softer. He’s able to watch in real time as her eyelashes flutter when her glance darts down to his lips, and when she looks up at him again, it’s with color in her cheeks and a sweetness in her gaze that has him turning to putty.

What was meant to be a half-hearted jest based on something Panda had said that she wasn’t exactly meant to hear now hangs in the air between them so heavy it feels like gravity grows in strength. Her heart is pounding in her chest. Her hand feels hot in his. And now she sits with baited breath and wide eyes as she waits for him to say something.

Yuuta’s smiling, his free hand coming up to the nape of her neck, sweeping her hair away before pulling her closer. She tilts her head towards him, but he stops just before their lips could graze over one another.

“You love me too?” He whispers.

He phrases it like a question, but he already knows it to be true. He just wants to hear her say it.

Her lips quirk into a sweet smile as her eyes flicker between his, lashes heavy, pupils blown wide in her irises. She’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, and the thought of getting to love her and be loved by her has his heart racing so fast he’s almost forgetting that he’s asked her a question because all he wants is to kiss her.

“Of course I do,” She murmurs, her soft lips ghosting over his, eager to feel them against hers again. “Think I’ve always loved you, Yuuta,” She adds in a quieter voice. A carefully protected deep adoration in her heart, now bestowed upon his. “Think it’s always been you and me” She hums softly, taken away by the warmth in her chest and the butterflies in her tummy.

She could sit here and whisper sweet things to him for hours, maybe even forever.

His thumb strokes under her jaw in a gentle motion, caressing the junction at her jawline and neck. He looks radiant, smiling down at her like nothing’s ever made him so happy. This spurs her into wanting to say more sweet things, but before she gets the chance, he’s slanting his lips over hers.

She melts into him in every sense of the word. Her free hand reaches for his shoulder, before sliding around his neck so she could lean into him further. The small space they’re still hiding in only shrinks as she tries to get closer to him. Both pairs of their legs are too long to keep bent under the desk, so she sticks one leg out, accidentally kicking the chair in front of them but she pays it no mind. She just focuses on getting closer to him, hooking her other leg underneath herself to give her better leverage and a tiny bit more space to scoot closer.

Her hands are on his collar again as soon as he grabs her by the hips. He gives them a gentle squeeze and she giggles softly into his mouth, breaking their kiss for only a moment. They share wide smiles and lovesick eyes before leaning into each other again and sealing their lips in a heated and much more passionate kiss.

They don’t think at all about the noise of the chair clattering across the floor or the distinct sound of their giggling as they get swept away with one another. In fact they completely forget that they’re only in this position because they’d been trying to keep hidden. Both too consumed with memorizing the feeling of each other’s lips.

It’s a sweet moment, really, the first time young lovers get to explore the way the other kisses. Gently, with timid, inexperienced brushes. Or hungrily, with eager, heated desire. Taking their time was a luxury they’d thought they could finally afford.

But this time when the door opens it’s with stealth. It slides in silence, and the steps that creep in are also with slow precision, so as not to make even a creak in the floorboards.

All that can be seen by the three intruders are the three legs jutting out from under the desk. A familiar pair of Converse and one familiar Mary Jane with a heart shaped buckle kicking gently about on the floorboards, rocking with delight.

The hushed sound of lips smacking only ceased when there was a giggle, one of them or both of them, murmuring between kisses and giggles like a pair of school children.

There’s a few things that are audible, murmurs of ‘I love you so much’ or ‘you’re so pretty’ repeated between them like mantras. This continues for a minute until one of the three takes a heavier step than he means to with his paw, and the room goes completely silent- save for the lewd ‘smack!’ of a pair of lips seizing upon hearing the tell-tale sign of a lurker.

Maki and Toge glare back at Panda, who sheepishly grins and shrugs his shoulders.

(y/n) and Yuuta stare at each other in horrified shock. They don’t get the chance to come up with a plan of attack before someone is on top of the desk with a squeak of sneakers. And then Toge is bending over the surface, staring wide eyes at the two in a rather compromising position- (y/n’s) leg is thrown over Yuuta’s lap and being kept there by a firm hand, her hands are still balled up in his unbuttoned collar, their lips are thoroughly swollen she’s effectively transferred most of her lip gloss onto his mouth, and chin and neck- there’s nothing innocent about them. Toge stares between them both before he lets out a whistle, giggling as he hops off the desk again.

Yuuta winces as he quickly releases his grip on (y/n’s) leg so they can both scramble out from under the desk and up to their feet. It’s ungraceful, uncoordinated as they awkwardly untangle to clamber upwards. Yuuta hits his head on the hard oak loud enough that they both wince, (y/n) quickly inspecting the instant bump that forms at the occiput of his skull.

“No way!” Maki breaks the tension first, her jaw hanging open as she grins in amusement at having caught the two of them here. “You were hiding out in here the whole time!?”

“Tuna!” Toge shoves his finger in their direction in accusation.

“Kissing!” Panda gasps, his paws over his face.

“Why didn’t you just say something,” Maki huffed. “Walked around for ten minutes for no reason. Waste of my time” She grumbles as she crosses her arms.

“Uh, sorry” (y/n) said sheepishly.

“Yeah, sorry,” Yuuta pipes up. “It was just… uh… awkward”

“You’re awkward!” Maki barks back with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Jeez, glad you got it over with finally” She bids them her blessing with rough words before spinning around and leaving the room without saying anything else.

Panda gives them a bright smile and nod of his head, his own friendly way of telling them he was happy for them.

“Hope you’re happy” He tells them out of the kindness of his soul before excusing himself as well.

“Salmon!” Toge agrees with a grin and friendly wave before also leaving.

All the lurking around they’d done, only to give them space as soon as they caught what they needed to.

The remaining pair turned to each other, gaping mouths turning into shy smiles as they slowly burst into laughter together. What was supposed to be a slow introduction of new feelings to explore had now been on display to pretty much everyone they knew. Shyness began to wash away as there was no more use for it. Yuuta reaches for his hand and (y/n’s) fingers intertwined with his as though they’d familiarized themselves there before. She smiles as he uses her hand to pull her closer to him, until the toes of her shoes barely bump into his.

They don’t say anything, they don’t need to. (y/n) knows what he means when he cradles her face in his palm and smiles down at her. He knows what she means when her nose crinkles and her free hand reaches to hold onto his collar once more. Their ‘i love yous’ had almost always been silent, and they would forever understand it in its unspoken form.

this is for @staygoldsquatchling02 for being excited about my rotting brain full of yuuta fluff a/n: y’all i got soo carried away with this-

xoxo ~ jordie

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moonlight-prose · 6 months ago

Text

PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE

a/n: all i'm gonna say is this song is so benny coded i'm losing my shit over it. he's absolutely the man to leave you in tears by the end of the night. also someone stop me from writing heaps of angst for him, because i genuinely can't stop making wips in my drafts for him. this is entirely unedited because fuck it and i'm nervous he doesn't sound right, but oh well. the divider is made by the incredible @saradika-graphics.

summary: benny cross was trouble, he was a storm waiting to cause damage, he was everything you wanted. but men like him have a tendency to break hearts without even trying.

word count: 2.6k+

pairing: benny cross x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, crying, benny is a toxic man in this, emotionally constipated men, reader's favorite color is red. stupidity, violence, blood, fixing up wounds, makeup getting messed up, thigh riding, spitplay, he's filthy.

"He'll get you into trouble honey."

Five months ago you wouldn't have thought anything of the words Johnny said over a glass of whiskey, his eyes trained on the way you looked at Benny. The far off gaze that he'd seen cross his lady's face more often than he expected. At first it meant love—hope that you might finally meet the one you longed for—but reality always seemed to crash down around you quicker than you expected.

You laughed as if he told you a joke, a funny one liner that would be a distant memory on the day of your wedding to the man by the pool table. You thought nothing of his words and found yourself lost in the gaze of blue eyes and red knuckles.

You should have listened.

The door slammed shut with a resounding bang as you stormed through the small house—your jacket discarded over the leather chair Benny claimed belonged to him. Anger burned in your chest at the realization that one day...it wouldn't sit there. One day he'd leave and you would finally have the gall to throw that piece of shit outside. You glared at it as he followed you, shutting the door with a soft click, a distant sigh leaving his lips.

"Baby—"

In all the months you'd known him, Benny being scared was unthinkable. He was a man who made more trouble than he sought out, the same man who came home bruised, bloodied and begging for mercy. The man you promised to love forever. Yet when your gaze fixed him with a look that could have killed him if you weren't weaponless, you watched that small inkling of fear cross his eyes.

Benny was scared.

And not because he nearly got killed in a fight. Not because he leapt across the bar, a blade in his hand, and a smile on his lips. He felt terror at the thought that you—the person he found his little inkling of peace in—might finally be the one to turn him away.

Tonight very well could be your last straw in this relationship, the thing that finally cracked you in half, and Benny felt his heart drop to his stomach.

He swallowed thickly around words that would never leave his mouth, a cold sweat beginning to form along the back of his neck as you stayed silent. There was nothing either of you could say to fix what broke tonight. He threw the first punch and felt satisfaction at the crack that followed when his knuckles met bone and blood stained his skin.

"I'm s—"

You huffed, fingers curling into fists. "I swear if you so much as say a single word I will break your nose."

The grin that crossed his lips wasn't helping your anger—merely fanning the flames of something catastrophic—but he couldn't stop the thrill that nearly flipped his heart at your threat. His girl, so pretty and dolled up, ready to send a fist flying towards his face. Maybe he should talk to someone about why that made him smile. Why he wanted to kiss you senseless all of a sudden, until neither of you could breathe.

He should have realized it was fucked.

Instead he licked his lips and yearned for more.

Exhaling a deep breath, you closed your eyes to the image of him with blood still smeared across his knuckles and a bruise forming on his cheek. Johnny warned you. He told you Benny Cross was trouble. Yet even now, you found yourself unable to unravel the tangled thread that tied him to you. That set in stone your future with this man. You gave your heart over without thinking about the consequences. But wasn't that supposed to be what love is?

Weren't you meant to fall fast and quick and pick up the pieces later?

"Go sit down, I'll get the bandages," you muttered.

Thankfully, he didn't give you a fight on that front. He nodded silently, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, as he took a seat in his chair. You half expected him to let your jacket fall to the ground. Instead he folded it gently, placing it on the couch with enough care to break down a small bit of your anger.

He wouldn't speak. Not until you asked him to.

But he could show you he loved you in ways that went unnoticed by others, yet meant everything to you.

You returned silently, handing him the first aid kit as you poured alcohol on the once clean towel. A feeling he often fled from began to eat at his insides, clawing up his throat, as you bent down to evenly wipe at his open cut. He didn't flinch, barely even registered the sharp sting of pain. His mind was reeling, heart pounding, with the knowledge that he felt guilty.

"Johnny warned me," you sighed, seeing the beige towel begin to turn red.

Benny hummed, blue eyes meeting yours—that soft gleam of an apology shining through. You tried to avoid looking at him, knowing your resolve would break. Not even you could deny how irritating his gift for softening you up was. Yet somehow...you always let him get away with it.

"He said you were trouble."

"Johnny says that about everyone," he sighed. He wanted to touch you, to place his hand on the back of your thigh as you stood between his legs.

The harsh and final swipe at his cut sent pain down his face. Enough to have him reaching for you blindly, a soft grunt falling past his lips as you began to clean his bruise. You should have pushed him off, maintained your level of anger, but with Benny things became complicated. Anger bled into your love until you couldn't discern between the two.

Love and hate toed that invisible border between the two, but with him...the line simply disappeared.

"I asked you to stop fighting." He handed you the bandage softly, still trying to meet your gaze. "I don't like you coming home broken. Bloody. Do you think this is fun for me Benny? Stitching you up every time?"

His breath washed across your wrist, eyes falling shut as the guilt practically ate him alive. You could see the conflict on his face. A struggle he didn't know how to win. Fighting was all he knew, all he could count on most days, and whether you liked it or not, it helped him keep the control he desperately needed. The one thing in his life that remained unwavering.

"No," he murmured into the skin of your wrist.

"Then why?"

"I just gotta do it baby."

Bullshit always sounded prettier coming straight from his mouth. More often than not you took it without a second guess. You let him be the wild man they needed—the person who would fight without question. But tonight as you watched him pummel a man into the ground, you caught a glimpse of your future. Of the path that you willingly said yes to.

And it terrified you.

"I know the club needs you," you sighed, cupping his face and finally meeting his soft gaze. "I know Johnny needs you. But so do I."

The sting of tears wasn't unfamiliar when it came to Benny, but you wanted it to be different. You didn't want to cry over his mistakes anymore, you didn't want him to be the reason you were like this. He let out a breath, his hands reaching for hips with a gentleness that gave you whiplash. There was no resistance in your body left, no arguments to be had, because this was just how things were.

Benny Cross remained himself at the end of all of this.

Even as you broke in his hold.

Tucking your face into his neck, you allowed your worries to slip into the background. What more could you do? When you loved a man so reckless he barely remembered to breathe before jumping headfirst into danger. His hand ran down your back, lips finding your temple, as the night began to settle, and you found yourselves back in the same spot. In a position that felt familiar.

"You've got me," he murmured, feeling the collar of his shirt grow damp with your tears.

"The club comes first though."

"I don't know what you want me to say—"

You shook your head and pressed your face into his palm, his thumb running along the top of your cheekbones. "That's just it Benny...you can't say anything I haven't heard before."

A flicker of something foreign creeped along his face, peeking its head out before sneaking off again. A part of him that he'd never share with you. The trepidation, the grief, the worry that he barely let himself feel. How could he give that to you? How could he let you see it all without scaring the shit out of you?

Keeping that to himself was what kept him there. It stopped him from running at a moment's notice. And you knew that.

You figured it out the day you met him.

"C'mere," he mumbled, gripping your chin with the softness of a lover who yearned to apologize but didn't know how.

So you fell into his touch and let his lips slide along yours. You kissed him back with a worn out sigh of pleasure, your hands creeping along the neck of his jacket—until your skin pressed against his. Benny didn't kiss you with passion or fervor. He kissed as if he had all the time in the world to do nothing but. To tease out every manner of sounds that might be trapped in your chest.

His tongue dipped into your mouth, hand gripping at your hip as his breathy grunt was swallowed by your lips. By the moan you fed him—the need that echoed from your chest directly into his.

"You taste like me," he groaned, his hand finding the back of your neck at the same time he gripped your ass, pushing you a bit closer. Until no space remained but the clothes you wore.

You smiled, stealing a quick bite to his bottom lip he felt right down to his cock. "I taste like cigarettes."

"My cigarettes."

"You all smoke the same cigarettes baby."

He mumbled something you couldn't hear—not because you didn't try, you did—because he chose that moment to press his thigh between your legs, catching you in a kiss before the sound could escape. What you might have recognized as a soft warmth that spread through your stomach, suddenly burned you on sight. A whine spilled from your mouth, your fingers tangling in the hair at the base of his neck, and yet he merely smiled against your lips.

Whatever argument that might have continued long into the night, died in the back of your mind the second he guided your hips along his leg. The rough fabric of his jeans catching along the seam of yours. You wanted to focus on him, to see the slightest bit of crimson dust his cheeks, but the haze of bliss began to bleed into your vision. Blurring anything but him and his thigh and the open mouth kisses he tracked along your throat.

"B-Benny—"

The squeeze on your ass let you know he was listening, and perhaps you were too far gone to realize how your heart fluttered at the touch. Maybe he knew that this was too much for you to give up on. The unconditional pleasure he was willing to give you.

The ache he could fill with ease.

"That's it," he mumbled against the corner of your lips, gripping your chin in his large calloused palm. "Ride it. Take what you want."

Soft panting breaths was all you could get out with each stunted grind of your hips along his leg. With any other person you might have felt ridiculous. Like you were the show they were paying for. But with Benny...you existed beyond whatever this was; you were the person he'd ride to hell and back with. The person who gave him a reason to come home.

He watched you with awe in his eyes, his thumb rubbing along the eye makeup that you cried off. The mascara that you'd later have to remove with his help.

"How do you feel?" he finally said, his voice a low rumble in his chest.

If he wanted coherent sentences, he wasn't getting them. And some part of him knew. He could see the effort it took to even keep your eyes open as blinding pleasure began to course through your body. Ripping at what anger might have remained and replacing it with want.

His name was a soft sigh on your lips, eyes glazed and begging for that final push. When it came to you, he willingly gave in, gave you the need that he could feel in his own body.

"What do you need?"

He knew what would push you over the edge; could practically see the plea in your eyes. And his lips curled at the sight. Your hips dragged along his thigh in short stunted thrusts, working yourself past the point of feeling that blistering ache in your legs. Pulling your face closer, he pinched your cheeks slightly, silently waiting for you to follow his move. He wasn't a patient man, but when it came to you...he'd endure centuries if it meant getting to have you like this.

"I know," he murmured, sliding his nose along your cheek. "Lemme give it to you."

With a soft moan, your lips parted open, fingers grabbing onto the front of his vest in the hopes that it would stabilize you. He dipped down licking into your mouth with a groan, before the all too familiar sensation of his spit landing on your tongue sent heat flaring towards your stomach.

"That's a good girl." Your eyes fluttered, body trembling. "Swallow."

Few things existed that made him feel that flutter in his chest. The sight of your eyes rolling back as the release you'd been aching for finally spilled over and down your spine, was at the top of his list. He'd watch it on repeat without ever tiring of what he could bring you to. A feeling that if taken away from him, would bring a sane man to madness.

"Benny," you sighed, feeling his forehead press to yours, his chest heaving with deep breaths as he tried to settle his body. You needed a moment to gather yourself before he dragged you back to that comfortable bed you made him find the first week you began dating him.

"I'm sorry."

The words weren't a promise, nor a confirmation that a future spent with him would change. Or even be easy. But you took what little he could give. The pieces of his heart he let you have, even as he fought everything screaming at him to leave.

"I know," you whispered, giving into his hug, and soaking in the affection he offered.

You came to the conclusion that this is where you differed. You loved with everything, all that you could give of yourself. And Benny loved like the wind. There for moments of the day, but gone by the time the moon began its ascent into the sky. You never knew when you'd finally catch him for good—perhaps you never would.

His hold tightened, lips finding yours, and it was then you finally settled on the answer you'd been searching for. You didn't want to find out the future, because this right here...this was enough.

#i'm not sure i like this but it is what it is #also i was screaming at reader to break up with him #benny cross is a walking red flag but my favorite color is red so-#benny cross x f!reader #benny cross x reader #benny cross x you #benny cross x y/n #benny cross smut #benny cross #the bikeriders #my writing

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ckret2 · 1 year ago

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Chapter 27 of human Bill Cipher trying to trick his captors into liking him, featuring a mall shopping trip that turns into this:

Also, Bill faces the most difficult ethical dilemma of his life: should he act like a big jerk to a 13-year-old.

####

As they left the cheap jewelry kiosk, Bill tapped his new dress shoe against Stan's ankle to catch his attention. "Hey. Your cut." He flipped a ring in the air.

Stan caught it and inspected the symbol on its surface. "Is that the Royal Order of the Holy Mackerel?"

"You gave your protégé your fez, I thought you might want a replacement! I know how proud you are of your lodge membership, Fisherman."

Stan admiringly studied the ring and its open-mouthed crescent fish; then the corners of his mouth turned down. "Ahhh, it wasn't my membership." He stuffed the ring in his pocket.

"No? I got one with the Fishmasons symbol if you'd like that better." Bill spun the oversized ring on one finger. It slipped off and he fumbled trying to catch it.

In the smoothest move he'd pulled all summer, Dipper caught the ring before it hit the floor. He ignored Bill's outstretched hand and inspected the complicated tool-lined diamond symbol. "Fishmasons? I thought they were called..."

"Yeah, you would," Bill scoffed. "Do you believe everything you read in The Paranoia Code? You know novels are usually fictional, right?"

"But don't masons work with stone? How does a 'fish mason' make sense?"

"If everyone knew what it meant, it wouldn't be a secret society, would it?"

Dipper gave up on prying anything more than snark out of Bill and turned toward Stan. "The Royal Order of the Holy Mackerel is associated with the Fishmasons, right?"

"Yeah," Stan said, "they're uh, sister organizations or something, I think. It's complicated."

"It's a spin-off organization," Bill said. "All Mackerels are Fishers. Once you've reached the top rank in the Fishers, you're eligible to join the Holy Mackerel."

"Yeah. What he said."

Dipper nodded. "Sooo... is it true that the Fishmasons are secretly... working with the government, or...? I mean, yeah, I read it in a book. But they've had a lot of real historical figures."

Stan snorted dismissively. "If they are, they didn't invite me to those meetings."

"Well sure. The lodge that decides politics is in D.C.," Bill lied. Dipper's head whipped around to stare at him. Ha. When they got home, Bill would have to spend some time deciding which would be the stupidest conspiracy theory rabbit holes to send Dipper down. If he played his cards right, by Thanksgiving he could have the kid spouting rubbish that would alienate half his extended family.

"Would you stop staring at me like that?" He shoved the side of Dipper's face; and, while he was distracted, grabbed back the Fisher ring to inspect its symbol. Kryptos's face. Far better drawn than Bill could do. And the thin little layer of gold atop the ring should be enough to enhance Bill's psychic signal. Maybe that would be enough to get a call through to the Nightmare Realm.

He tucked the ring in his shoe and turned to Stan. "Anyway, if you think that was good, you should see what I can do in a real jewelry store. What do you say?"

"I dunno. Jewelry shops are tricky, they're always on the lookout for shoplifters."

"They never catch teams and we've got two rambunctious kids to split their attention. I'll do the distracting, you do the lifting. When's the last time you had a gold watch that isn't cursed?"

"Nope!" Mabel, who'd been trailing behind the group with her arms crossed, finally shoved her way between Stan and Bill. "That's enough! We came here for a good time, not a crime time!"

"We came here to go shopping," Stan protested. "We're shopping!"

"Yeah, we're just getting the best discount possible."

"It's like advanced couponing."

Bill laughed. "Hey, I like that."

"No!" Mabel stood in front of them, arms and feet spread wide like a barrier. "Grunkle Stan, you should know better. You're letting—" she dropped her voice to an emphatic whisper, "Bill talk you into doing bad stuff. The whole reason you came along was to make sure he can't do that!"

Stan snapped, "Oh, like you didn't just make us stand around for an hour while you played dress up with him! Why's it okay when you play with the demon, but nobody else can make him useful?"

Mabel winced. "No, that's not... I mean..."

If this conversation went the wrong way, Stan and Mabel might both talk each other out of doing anything interesting with Bill. He'd better defuse this situation quick. "Hey, c'mon, Stanley, that's your niece. Don't be so hard on her."

There was a flicker of irritation on Stan's face directed at Bill, followed by a flicker of guilt toward Mabel, followed by him grunting and refusing to make eye contact with anyone.

That was one threat neutralized. Bill turned his grin on Mabel. "Sorry for monopolizing the trip, kid. We'll make it up to you! Fordsy got you that cute crystal bracelet, didn't he—wanna graduate to some real gemstones?"

"Hey, yeah," Stan said, immediately perking up. "You like jewelry! I can get you something with hearts or kittens. Way better than a bunch of boring rocks." Bill mentally patted himself on the back. Oh, he was so good at this. Good old sibling rivalry. Families were so easy to manipulate.

Mabel slapped her hand over the rainbow crystal bracelet mixed amidst her other bracelets. "I don't want you to get me real jewelry!" she shouted; but Stan had already set out on his new mission, with Bill trotting along just behind him. "Not if you have to steal it!"

"Relax!" Bill waved without turning around. "We're a couple of pros, you've got nothing to worry about." He elbowed Stan before he could absorb Mabel's protests. "Don't worry, once she's older she'll appreciate what a financial investment fine jewelry is. Never too early to buy a little gold. Or—well—acquire gold."

"Yeah," Stan said, "who knows when the next apocalypse is gonna be."

"Could be any day now," Bill lied.

"The only bracelet I want is this one!" Mabel waved her arm in the air, pointing at the shooting star friendship bracelet Bill had made. But Stan and Bill were too far away to care about her protests now.

Mabel's shoulders slumped. She glowered at the friendship bracelet. It didn't seem as friendly as it did when Bill gave it to her. "This whole trip was a mistake, wasn't it."

Dipper grimaced. "I didn't say it."

"You don't have to." Mabel sighed heavily. "I don't know what got into me. B—Goldie's been so nice lately, I thought he was making progress! But he's been nothing but a creep today. Guess the niceness was all an act."

"He can act nice for a long time. It took Grunkle Ford almost three years to figure out how evil he is." When Dipper concluded that this hadn't had the comforting effect he'd intended, he asked, "Do you wanna tip off security about the jewelry heist?"

Mabel sighed again. "No, I don't want Grunkle Stan to get in trouble. And if Goldie's arrested he might spill the beans to mall security. Let's just wait outside by the car."

"Yeah, all right," Dipper said. "If they don't come out in twenty minutes, we'll call Ford."

Headed the other way across the mall, Bill said, "So, a watch for you, a necklace or something for the kid, and for me... they probably don't have crowns here, so—"

"Whoa, hey, I don't remember offering to get you anything," Stan said. "I already got you fancy shoes and a bunch of clothes. We're square."

"We're no such thing. Besides, why should I help you if I'm not getting anything?" Bill asked. "Maybe earrings? Gimme a nail when we get home and I can pierce my own ears—"

His arm was wrenched backwards and he fell on his back.

Thirty feet away, Mabel yelped as she was yanked back and landed on her butt.

Bill and Mabel turned around and stared at each other.

Bill said, "Right! Forgot about that. Just—get over here."

"No!" Mabel shouted. "You get over here!"

Bill scowled. "Come on, kid. Your great-uncle and I are trying to do something here. If you don't want to come along, at least let Stanley have the other half of the bracelet—"

"I said NO!" Mabel planted her feet wide apart and tugged her wrist back as far as it could go. "You used me! You were only nice so you could go outside and I fell for it! As soon as you got what you wanted, you started acting like a huge poop face again!"

"Wow, language—"

"I'm not helping you anymore!"

Bill could feel his face heating up. "Kid, don't be ridiculous! You can't stand there forever! You're being..." selfish, irrational, petty—what word would get him what he wanted?

The pedestrian chatter over the inoffensive mall music had fallen silent. The feeling of being watched crawled over his back. (He seemed to discover another unpleasant new human bodily sensation every day.) Oh. Witnesses. There was no way the stranger in a shouting match with a little girl was coming out of this looking cool.

He could still save face if he got her uncle to do Bill's arguing for him. He turned hopefully to his new shoplifting buddy. "C'mon, she's—she's being unreasonable, right? We're talking about one watch, here."

And Bill had lost him. Stan's expression hardened. He crossed his arms and Bill flinched at the movement. "If a stupid watch is gonna upset Mabel that much..."

Families were so difficult to manipulate! Why did they have to gang up on him, it wasn't fair. He shot a furious glower at Mabel.

And then laughed, loudly enough for the rubberneckers to hear. "Okay, okay! You win. Sheesh, you look so serious. Peace talks in front of the Kidz Zone?"

Sternly, Mabel said, "Okay, but you do not get to ride the little coin-operated train."

"I wasn't gonna ask!" Bill paused. "Or the—?"

"Or the helicopter!"

Dipper called, "You haven't earned it, man."

"Fine," Bill snapped, "I didn't want to ride it." Swallow your disappointment, Cipher. Just play it cool.

When they'd rendezvoused, Bill said, "Okay, I might have gone a little overboard. Big deal. But we've been here all afternoon, we haven't eaten, I'm sure that's why everyone's so testy. Let's just swing by the food court and then get out of here."

Mabel frowned. "You're just trying to get us to stay."

"Yes. I am. So that we can eat before we go." If he ended this on a win, even a small win, that would be what everyone took away and he could call this trip progress. "Funny thing about human bodies is they need to be fed a couple times a day. Maybe you've noticed."

Dipper frowned. "Dude, you're only eating twice a day?"

"I don't question your diet, get off my back. What do you think, Stanley, feed the kids before we go?" Bill might've lost Mabel, but he had a shot at securing Stan. He could work on Mabel again once they were home. "You wanna drive home a couple of cranky teens, or a couple of cranky and hungry teens?"

Dipper snapped, "We're only cranky because of—!"

"Nah, he's right," Stan said wearily. "I'm starving. We'll grab something quick to eat."

Bill immediately perked up; but Mabel's frown deepened.

####

"I want chicken strips," Dipper said.

Mabel said, "I'm getting pizza."

Bill said, "I want—"

"I don't care what you want," Stan said. "I'm getting a burger and you're getting the fries."

"Oh, so you want to find out what I'm like when I'm the cranky and hungry one?"

Stan grunted. "Fine. Your budget's five dollars. I really do only have a twenty."

"Fine." Bill drifted over to Mabel, who'd gotten in line in front of the food court's pizza booth. "Hey, Shooting Star—"

"Leave me alone, jerk."

"Whoa, am I not allowed to get a slice of pizza?"

Mabel didn't respond. She was glaring through the glass display window at the available pizza flavors as she waited for her turn to order. Apparently Bill interpreted that as permission to stay and look over the flavors himself.

Standing so close to Bill Cipher when Mabel didn't want him there was like having a monster breathing down her neck. She hadn't realized how hover-y he could get until it stopped being fun. She remembered something like this from Ford's lesson on cults and con artists, how they try to get into your head by talking and talking and not giving you any time and space to breathe.

She could feel Bill's heavy gaze on the side of her face. Dipper and Stan were at the next restaurant over, but Bill stood between her and them. The chain bracelet on her wrist felt like a handcuff. She wanted to rip it off and be free of him. She wanted to go home.

"I've never had American pizza before," Bill said. "What do you think, cheese or Hawaiian?"

Mabel screwed up her face. "Ew, the one with pineapple?"

Bill's grin twitched wider. "Is that a vote for cheese, then?"

Gross, he was trying to get her to talk again. She glared at the pizza more determinedly. "Get what you want, I don't care."

Bill sighed. "Fine. You're no fun." He looked over the pizzas—standing too close—for one brief moment of heavy silence; and then, pointing between the cheese and Hawaiian, murmured to himself, "Eenie, meenie, miney..."

Mabel's whole body went stiff.

####

She felt the oppressive oven-like heat of Bill's dark floating pyramid, a too-euclidean temple built without the comfort of humans in mind, so hot that touching the walls burned your skin; and she felt a sticky sweat running down her back. She felt the constant electrical static of Bill's glowing shadowy grip around her waist. Every time she shifted and struggled, her sweater crackled and stung her. Bill's hand felt like nothing, absolutely nothing, and it was crushing and inescapable.

She could hear his voice, that forced jollity pushing to the verge of exhausted hysteria, saying, "I think I'm gonna kill one of them now just for the heck of it!"

She could see his eye like a blood red spotlight, eye like an incinerating laser, the light swallowing her and Dipper; she heard her heartbeat pounding in her ears; she saw the symbol that represented her flashing in Bill's eye, and even before he stopped she knew it would be her.

"EENIE... MEENIE... MINEY..."

She saw his hand tremble with rage as he prepared to snap her out of existence.

"YOU!"

####

"Hey, you." Bill put a hand on Mabel's shoulder. "What are you getting? Maybe we can split two slic—"

There was a wild look in Mabel's eyes.

The moment she seized his upper arm, he knew he was ending up on the floor and it was going to hurt.

She spun her back to him, jerked him against her, and flipped him over her shoulders. It was bizarrely relaxing, that second spent floating upside-down in the air. Familiar, comforting.

And then he slammed back first on the tile floor. And it hurt.

He stared wheezing at the faraway lights until his internal organs remembered how to lung. The world was too bright; he'd lost his sunglasses. He sat up and gingerly felt the back of his head. It had cracked open, he was leaking internal organs—no. That was his hair. His head was fine.

Dizzily, he asked, "What was that for?" He shook his head to clear it. "Hey. Hey! What the heck was that for!" He grabbed the counter and got to his feet, and almost slipped back down on his first attempt. "I've been a little obnoxious but what'd I do to deserve a surprise attack out of nowhere? What, were you just waiting for a chance to get the jump on me—"

And then he saw the look on Mabel's face—the absolute unadulterated terror—in the split second before she gave a little flinch of realization and the guilt kicked in.

Baffled, he looked past her and the confused nearby mall-goers to Stan and Dipper—who thankfully didn't look angry, but they also didn't look as confused as Bill felt. They had tight-lipped white-faced looks like they understood what they'd just seen perfectly.

"What," Bill said. "What'd I do? Was it something I said?" He racked his brain. He did something that scared the dickens out of them—because all of them were giving him that look—it was three against one, something must have happened that he didn't pick up on. Something that made humans nervous that wasn't important enough for someone like him to recall?

He didn't know what.

That was it. He lost. All his work was undone, they were afraid of him again, they saw him as a threat and they'd lock him back up in the shack. There went any chance of ever seeing the outside world before his execution. There went his hopes of befriending the more pliable humans, or winning Ford back over. There went his conversations with Mabel. And he didn't even know what he did wrong.

If he killed Mabel and cut the bracelet cord, was he fast enough to escape before Stan and Dipper could react? If he lunged over the counter, could he get the pizza cutter and slit Mabel's throat before she flipped him again?

He saw a flickering glimpse of his uncoordinated scramble in the futures where he tried; the scene quickly fizzled out as he concluded it wouldn't work.

"Sorry," Mabel said. "Instinct. You know how martial arts are! You get it trained into your muscle memory, and... and... I... didn't mean to do that, that was my bad."

No less confused, Bill said, "Yeah, no, sure, it's—it's fine." He couldn't afford for it not to be "fine"; he didn't know what the other options were. "I know I cut an intimidating figure." He laughed weakly.

He couldn't apologize even if he wanted to. He didn't know what he was supposed to be apologizing for. He was still watching Mabel's face and Dipper's and Stan's for any context clues to explain what just happened.

And Mabel said, voice small and shaking, "You... don't wanna hurt us again, right?"

Bill blinked slowly at her.

It was the stupidest question he'd ever heard.

She had to know that. Everyone watching had to know that. Bill had been plotting how to hurt them again not fifteen seconds ago. He had every reason to want to hurt them—his very survival depended on finding a way to hurt them—and anyway, regardless of his intentions, obviously if he was asked he'd say "no," wouldn't he! As if he could admit to his captors that he did want to hurt them! It was such a breathtakingly stupid question that he could laugh.

He didn't laugh. He didn't point out how dumb she was for asking, or what a waste of time the question was, or remind her that they both knew there was only one answer. He didn't want to show off how effortlessly he could talk circles around humans; he didn't care about making her feel stupid.

He only wanted Mabel to stop looking at him like he terrified her.

So he said, "No. Of course I don't want to hurt you." He nodded toward Stan and Dipper, "No promises about these guys, they've been making fun of our fashion sense all afternoon, but... not you." He held up one hand, showing Mabel the friendship bracelet she'd given him with the evil eye beads. "You gave me a new job, remember?"

He'd hoped the jokey half-threat might help lighten the mood, maybe get her to smile; but she just nodded. "Okay."

Okay.

Stan shuffled his feet awkwardly. "Welp. I lost my appetite. We're going home."

####

Bill didn't care about Stan and Dipper glaring at his back as they trudged toward the exit, but Mabel walking so quietly beside him was sandpapering at his nerves. If he were back home and she were one of his usual pack of friends, he could just order her to perk up or else get out of his sight until she did—but that wouldn't work here, where he was currently not all powerful, he didn't have supreme control over everybody in the vicinity, and they did have to share a ride home. If he tried to get all imperious on her, she'd never speak to him again and Stan would probably break his skull.

What could he do to make her less nervous?

"Hey." He held out his hand to her. She gave it a quizzical look, then looked up at Bill. He said, "Can't hurt you if I can't use my hand, right? Unless you expect me to start biting."

Mabel said, "This isn't, like... a deal, is it—?"

"No! What? There's no deal, where would there be a deal?" Irritably, Bill said, "I'm just trying to help, if you don't think it's helpful then fine, whatever—"

Mabel took his hand. He shut up.

She flinched in surprise and pulled her hand back, holding the ring with the Fishmasons symbol. "I don't w..."

"I know you don't. Listen—we're all going to jail if we go back to 18th Century to return anything, but... I mean, we pass the ring kiosk on the way out, so..." Was that enough? Would that do anything?

She pushed it back into his hand. "You return it."

Irritation flared up his throat; he swallowed it down. "No problem." She was probably worried he was trying to set her up.

As they walked past the kiosk, he steered around to the side opposite the teen manning it; ran one hand over the rows of rings like he was idly inspecting the designs as he passed; and with a subtle movement, slid the stolen ring back amongst the others without pausing. He showed Mabel his empty hand to prove he'd done the deed.

As they moved passed the kiosk, she took his hand again. He squeezed hers back.

He'd find another way to get a message out to Kryptos. That dumb cheap ring probably wouldn't have worked anyway.

Dipper muttered, "You're still a threat if you have one hand free." He took Bill's other hand. They simultaneously shuddered. Never mind the being-watched feeling Bill had earlier, this was what the phrase "skin crawling" truly meant.

But Mabel immediately perked up. "Thanks, Dipper."

Oh! Sure! Thank him. Bill shot Dipper a dirty look and tightened his grip. (It wasn't even tight enough to hurt.) "I forgot how sweaty your palms are."

"Shut up."

Behind them, Stan grumbled, "I'm just glad you only have two hands."

"Hey!" Bill twisted around to give Stan an exasperated look. "Do you have any idea how much I envy you right now? This is torture. I can feel every fingerprint on these two. How come you're the only one who doesn't have to suffer."

Mabel laughed weakly. "Because Grunkle Stan never tried to end the world."

"Neither did I." He sighed exaggeratedly. "But fine—I'll take my punishment like an adult."

He'd gotten a laugh out of Mabel. That was good enough for now.

####

As soon as the car pulled around to the house side of the shack, before they'd even come to a stop, Bill unfastened his seat belt, shouldered open the door, and tumbled out into the sunlight and dirt. A couple of stolen shirts fluttered free.

"Hey!" Stan rolled down his window. "Get back—! How'd you get that door open?!"

"I never closed it!" Bill was already doing cartwheels across the grass, turned like a sunflower to catch the early evening sunbeams filtering through the trees. "I just pulled it close to the car."

"It was ajar the whole drive?!"

"A jar of what?" Bill's cartwheels were already better than the ones he'd tried earlier that day.

Mabel winced. "Sorry, Grunkle Stan, I should have checked..."

"It's not her fault!" Like heck was Bill letting Mabel get in trouble over one little door. "I'm an out-of-control agent of chaos! I'd ride home sitting on the roof if this body had the friction to stay put."

Stan snapped, "Next time, that's where I'm putting you!"

While Stan parked properly and everyone else got out, Bill got tired of cavorting and trudged up to the shack. He kicked his shiny new shoe against the wall as he waited for the Pines to let him inside.

"Glad that's over," Stan sighed. "I'm never going shopping with you again."

Yeah, sure he wasn't. Bill could work on him. Stan would want a new watch eventually.

"And I'm still starving," Stan said.

"Pizza," Bill said. Dipper and Mabel perked up like a couple of dogs that had just heard their owner say walk.

"Ehh..."

"Hawaiian," Bill added.

Stan looked considering. "I do appreciate pineapple's laid-back, tropical attitude." Dipper and Mabel groaned in disappointment.

Bill proposed, "Two pizzas."

The Pines and Bill went inside, and the door swung shut behind them.

None of the humans noticed the minuscule break Bill had kicked in the shack's unicorn hair barrier.

####

(Thanks for reading, y'all! I've been really looking forward to posting this chapter, so if you've got any comments or thoughts, I'd love to hear them!)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #mabel pines #gravity falls #gravity falls fanart #gravity falls fic #my art #fanart #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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concretevampire · 2 years ago

Text

An Indulgence

arthur morgan x f!reader ꔫ 1k ꔫ drabble/blurb about affection (or lack thereof) and whatnot

A/N: hi everyone, I'm back from the dead! sort of. it's an understatement to say that I've been busy. between exams, finals, and portfolio preparation, I can't seem to catch a break. I would have loved to have something more substantial to post but alas. hope y’all are well!

Hugs are not something that crosses his mind often. Nor remembers.

But it is no understatement to say that Arthur is touch starved beyond incomprehensible belief. For a long time, the closest thing he’d gotten to a hug in years (decades, he jokes sometimes) were the quick pats left on his back by the various men in the gang; festering marks of unbridled, masculine brotherhood, and nothing more. There’s an odd, silent code between all of them that touch– that love– cannot cross a certain line.

And if it did, the world would simply collapse because hugs cannot formulate within the constraints of existence. It would break fundamental laws. If gravity no longer clawed at everyones boots and limbs, maybe then Arthur supposes he could share a hug with John. Or Dutch. Or Hosea. Maybe Charles. Sean too.

When it comes to this, he often envies the affection that women give each other so freely, so often.

He stares at the way Tilly braids Mary-Beth’s hair, how Abigail lets her fingers linger at the curve of your elbow, or the way you help Karen lay down and rest after a bit too much to drink— even if she’s slapping at your hands.

He wants this. He yearns for this unbridled affection. Yet then he thinks about the other men in camp and realizes perhaps it’s best that they all keep their emotional distance.

But Arthur likes hugs. He really does, and he’s not particularly frugal with them.

The various women he’s saved along the road, each equally shaken and ruined, have wrapped their arms tightly around his chest, sobbing ‘thank you’s and ‘thank God’s into his shirt– and Arthur can never quite find it in himself to spare them of an arm around their shoulders, his hands rubbing soothingly along the space between their shoulder blades. He understands.

He’s got a corruptive, self-hating need to be a hero.

Not to forget his troublesome stint with Mary (which never seems to end), and the blink he shared with Eliza. Eliza and Isaac. It seems that beyond hugs, affection comes naturally in Arthur’s life, as rare as it is. This rarity has corroded and cauterized him, because whatever cottonball tidbits plug up his arteries, well, they might as well be non-existent.

Time has tapped on his forehead diligently, and he’s become whatever sand-ridden, tumbleweed-pushing, gunslinging-outlaw history will immortalize him to be. To an extent, Arthur’s accepted that he’ll be nothing more. That this is his legacy.

But then there are these moments where he’ll be in camp, standing in front of his small mirror, tilting his chin left and right. Do I need to shave? Maybe trim? And then he’ll feel it.

Your arms, wrapping comfortably and gently around his middle. Loose enough for him to punch you away and put a bullet in your head if he really wanted to. When he doesn’t do this, you’ll press your cheek harshly to Arthur’s vertebrae, filling that metaphorical chip on his shoulder with the expanse of your lungs. One deep inhale in: mud, tobacco, sweat, sweetgrass, and pine. With your exhale he hears you silently say all sorts of things: I missed you. Did you miss me? How are you? Are you okay? You better be or I’ll kill you.

It always makes him smile, gently and nearly silent under the thrum of crickets and frogs (you always make sure to embrace him when everyone else is half-asleep) and his hand drops lazily to splay over your own fingers, playing tug-o-war with his shirt.

And with your deep warmth seeping into the sinew of his back, Arthur will then tangibly remember that he likes hugs; that affection is in fact a part of his day-to-day life.

Even then, it’s not often that he can truly afford to wrap you up in his arms and press his cheek to your temple, murmuring abstract words quietly as he holds you to his chest. He doesn’t have the time and energy. Actually, it’s more capacity than anything else. He would kiss you if his lips were’t bruised and swollen from a brawl. Hold your hand if his fingers weren’t broken. Hug you if there weren’t a gunshot wound in his shoulder. Fuck you if he had gotten more than four hours of sleep in the past week.

Arthur’s wealth in physical affection is generally meager. It is both his fault and the world’s. What can he say? He was dealt a poor hand, and like most men, he seldom knows how to play these cards right.

But you’ve cheated the game. You peaked— perhaps to his discomfort— at his stack of ones and threes and inadvertently handed him your royal flush. Earlier on you probably would have played against him; but he’s blessed to find that you now share a weak real estate worth a pack of cigarettes. He knows this fact more than you. Of course, you’re not impervious to the result of your shared affection but you certainly aren’t aware of the extent to which it envelops him.

How he adores you, wants to demolish you with gnashing teeth and teary eyes. And simultaneously, Arthur simply wants to wash the clothes you wear and clean the plates you eat from.

It’s an uncomfortable dichotomy, one that encapsulates the push and pull of Arthur’s psyche that he can’t entirely wrap his own head around. You know about this struggle; he’s hoarsely whispered it to you after returning on week-long excursions on Dutch’s behalf.

I killed someone, he’ll whisper. They didn’t deserve it. It’s likely they did, because he’s usually a good judge of character, but you have no real way to tell. He’s never quite shaken up per se, but he’s disappointed in himself, oddly enough. He’ll hold your hands tightly with both of his, thumb rubbing numbingingly to your strangely naked ring finger. Fervently, as if his confession will mutate him into the monster of the West’s legends.

The only real thing you can do to soothe him is by forcing food down his throat and letting him sleep by your side. Let your nails scrape softly against his scalp and cultivate the fields of his dreams.

So perhaps when things are harsh, harsher than usual, he finds it in himself to seek you out, rather than the other way around. And he’ll clasp one gently ruined palm around your forearm, and press your hearts together.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan fanfiction #reader insert #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfiction

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robinsno1lesbian · 2 years ago

Note

I LOVE Neighbor!Robin😭, I was wondering if you could write some fluff? Like a cute summer date or something?

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒 - 𝐑.𝐁.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2033 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mainly just sweet fluff, implied period typical homophobia, first "i love you", might be slightly repetitive because i started writing it yesterday and then picked it up again today without rereading it lmao

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: ofc anon! i feel like the majority of my requests have been smutty ones (not complaining!!), so y'all whores are in need of some refreshing fluff!! also, you don't have to be familiar with the whole neighbor!robin concept to read this! (i feel like it turned out more robin coded than neighbor!robin anyway, i hope you don't mind! :) )

"this is perfect" she announces with a spread of her arms as if to emphasize her point.

"it looks like this everywhere" you chuckle when you finally reach her. she was been walking at a rapid pace, scanning the surroundings of lovers lake for the best possible picnic spot. she has found it, as it seems.

robin crosses her arms over her thin, white flannel.

"that is so not true," she says and shakes her head "i mean just look at how soft the grass is here or...or the view. i doubt there is any other spot with this view"

you chuckle to yourself and hold up the hem of your summer dress to avoid tripping over.

"alright then, show me what you've got"

robin had refused to show you everything that she had packed for this. she hadn't even told you about her plans of taking you on a date until you had gotten to her place.

that's where you have found her in the driver's seat of her truck, waving you over and telling you all about how she was going to take you on your first actual date.

the drive to lovers lake had been filled with complaints and apologies on her end.

how sorry she was for never taking you out on a proper date before and how summer was the perfect season for going out together.

"couple's activities" was the term she'd used.

but you know she is right; you never actually went out on dates.

maybe it was hawkins, or the 80s, surely it had to do with the fact that you were both women who shared an 'unnatural' kind of love -as some people claimed.

perhaps it was a strange mixture of all of the above that lead to the fact that she had never taken you out before.

you could never know who you might run into, who was watching whenever she linked your fingers together.

your love was limited to the times when you were all alone, sheltered by the walls of either her or your own house.

standing by her side, out in the open, feels odd enough.

you know how much she longs for this. how she wants to love you for the world to see rather than playing a game of pretending you are not all she has ever needed.

you know you're no different.

loving her in the suffocating silence is killing you. you want to love robin buckley loudly, with no shame to the way your heart flutters whenever her blue eyes find yours.

and while this might be not that much of a big thing, just a picnic, it is the beginning of something that neither of you has ever experienced before.

there is pride in the way you take her hand and give it a gentle squeeze.

robin smiles and lowers herself to the ground, reaching for the basket.

she really has thought of everything and you get a feeling like she might've planned this beforehand.

after you helped her set up the blanket, she reveals all the food she has brought and sets it all up on the blanket while you watch in awe.

"why are you watching me?" she grins over her shoulder, kneeling over the basket with a box of strawberries in her hands.

"i- uh-" you blush.

"do you at least like what you're so shamelessly gaping at?"

"oh i do" you give a quick glance around. it's still rather early and there isn't anyone in sight, so you put your lips to hers gently and run your thumb over her cheeks.

she kisses you back immediately, almost like she's been waiting for you to finally do so.

you can feel her smile against your skin, can feel her breath tickling your face when she practically throws herself on you.

you yelp when you're pushed into the blanket gently. the fabric has already warmed up and feels comforting against the skin of your back, bare due to the cut of your dress.

robin lingers above you for a minute, peppering kisses all over your face until you have your nose scrunched up and your eyes closed while you're laughing over the tickling sensation.

"it tickles" you finally manage and she leans back.

"that's the point...now will you let me unpack this without staring like a creep or...?"

"can't make any promises" you chuckle and shift yourself closer to where she is now sitting, wrap your arms around her and cling to her while she finishes the setup.

she looks over her shoulder occasionally to find that you're still watching. she can't complain though, not when she can see the adoration beaming in your eyes.

once she is done, it looks like a picture straight out of the many dreams you've had.

one that is put together with so much love and care that you want to kiss her again already.

instead, you lean back on your palms and let the sun shine upon your face with both eyes closed.

it's warm, not the kind of pressing heat that will fall upon hawkins all so soon, but just right.

there's a little breeze in addition to that, blowing through your hair and the grass growing all around you.

it's perfect. everything is perfect right in this moment.

"enjoying yourself sweetheart?"

you open one eye to look at her when you hum in response.

she is holding out the box of strawberries to you. and, as delicious as they look, you don't reach out.

you just open your mouth instead and robin grins.

she picks up a berry, holds it between her index and thumb and let's it dangle down over your mouth.

"open up"

you do as you're told and bite off the lower part of the fruit, leaving nothing but the stem and bits of it left in her hand.

it tastes sweet on your tongue and bits of the juices run down your chin. you reach out but robin is quicker and collects them on her fingers and wipes them away.

you swallow and open your mouth again immediately.

"is that how we're gonna do it now?" robin laughs.

"what? you don't wanna feed me with strawberries all day long?" your eyes widen in mock horror.

"not quite how i envisioned our day but if that's what you want..." she picks another one up and repeats the process of dangling it down over you.

only that this time, when you reach out to bite it off, she yerks her hand away.

"hey!" you exclaim playfully.

you try to take it away from her hand with your mouth but she just holds it farther out of reach from you.

"you want something?"

"the strawberry" you whine, attempting to get a hold of her wrist now but failing miserably,

"oh this?" she holds it closer just for a second.

"of course this"

you're slowly losing your patience and, without further consideration, throw yourself after the fruit.

but robin, clumsy when the occasion least calls for it, is quicker this time and catches your arm in your attempt.

you gasp when she spins both of your bodies around and lays herself down on top of you, arms pinned above your head.

"easy" she grins while using her free hand to take the strawberry between her front teeth.

"you-" you're about to complain but she's already leaning down, offering half of it to you.

"oh" finally you understand and meet her halfway.

you bite down on it but not without leaning so far in that your lips are on each other, sharing a kiss that tastes like berries and summer.

"you're so sweet" she whispers, spitting the stem out in her palm.

her eyes are only on yours this whole time, studying your facial features in the light.

you blush at the compliment and try to hide away your face but she takes your hands gently.

"don't hide"

from that point on, hours pass by like minutes. you seem to lose all track of time around her, but it is even better like this: when you're doing it together, under the warmth of the summer that is right around the corner and there isn't a worry in the world.

you sleep with her sunglasses shielding your eyes and wake to the sound of her snoring beside you, a hat shoved over her eyes since you have taken her glasses.

you braid her blonde her while she is asleep, combing through it with your fingers before putting it all out of her face, leaving only her bangs out.

when she finally wakes, you're on your belly, reading through the book she has brought for herself.

you don't even notice until you eye over, expecting to see her sleeping it finding her attentive glare on you.

she's laying on her side, head in her hand and a smile on her lips.

one minute it's that and the next, you're chasing each other all the way down to the shore of lover's lake, sprinting over the soft sand and through the soft waves of water that are splashing up your legs while you're trying to grab her arm.

you're making a mess of your white dress, its hem all wet from the lake. but your belly already hurts from all the laughter and robin is only mere inches away from you. you can't give up now, can you?

your legs carry you further and further never giving up until she has led you all the way back to your spot where she finally comes to a halt.

"god you're fast" you groan.

robin makes up though, lets you lay in her lap so that you and your clothes can dry while she is making a flower crown made of daisies for you.

her fingers occasionally brush through your hair, making sure you haven't drifted off to sleep again which you confirm with a smile on your lips.

eventually, she places the finished flower crown on your head. her smile tells you she's pleased with how it has turned out.

with your head still on her thighs, she bends over and kisses your forehead.

"you're so pretty" she whispers. "so pretty"

you open your eyes and they meet hers. upside down, but recognizable out of a million different pairs.

her palm strokes your cheek and her index draws small circles all over it.

"you're really pretty too, i-"

"i love you" robin breathes. it's barely audible and for a split second you're unsure whether you have just imagined it or not.

but the look on her face, one that is suddenly nervous and somewhat fearful, gives away that this hasn't been just your imagination playing tricks on you.

you sit up slowly.

"what did you say?"

"i- i said- uhm...i said i love you" she mutters and turns her gaze away.

there is genuine fear in her eyes now, as if there was something to be scared of. as if she really believes that you are not head over heels for her.

"oh robin"

"i'm sorry i don't know how that just- slipped out. should i- i mean- sorry i should've waited for a better moment but you looked so pretty and i thought-"

you want to hear what she has to say, you really do, but you can't stand to hear how afraid she seems to be.

so, before she can finish her rambling, you already raise your voice.

"i love you too"

"what?"

"i love you too"

her eyes soften and it seems like a weight is lifted off of her shoulders.

"oh thank god" she exhales.

"thank god?" you repeat with a chuckle "you should be, i don't know? all over me? kissing me like super dramatically and you-"

you are cut off by her lips on yours. robin crashes them together forcefully and you're taken aback slightly but return the kiss the second her hands wrap around your body.

all you'll ever want is for robin buckley to hold you by the lake, flower crown in your hair, and the lips of the woman you love on your own...eternal bliss.

#robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x female reader #robin buckley x fem!reader #robin buckley x you #robin buckley x y/n #robin buckley imagine #robin buckley fanfic #robin buckley fluff #neighbor!robin x reader #older!neighbor!robin x reader #older!neighbor!robin buckley #stranger things #stranger things fanfic

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softone-ao3 · 5 days ago

Text

Chapter 3: Cracks in the Armor

The midday sunlight streamed through the towering windows of the Ministry conference room, casting a golden glow on the table where Hermione sat, her arms crossed tightly against her chest. She glanced at Draco Malfoy, who lounged in his chair as if they were here to discuss the latest office gossip rather than a life-or-death mission.

Harry stood at the head of the table, his expression grave. “Three days.” His voice broke the tense silence. “That’s how long you’ve got before we need you both undercover. The window to infiltrate this group is narrow, and we can’t afford to wait.”

Hermione straightened in her seat, her fingers twitching to take notes. “Three days? That’s hardly enough time to—”

“It’s what we have,” Harry interrupted, his tone clipped but apologetic. “The Minister wants results, and the intel suggests their next meeting is imminent. If we miss this, we might not get another chance.”

Malfoy tilted his head, his expression equal parts amused and disinterested. “I take it we’re not allowed to say no to this brilliant plan?”

“No,” Harry replied flatly, his gaze narrowing. “You’re not. And you both know why.”

Hermione’s jaw tightened, but she held her tongue. Malfoy, of course, didn’t.

“Well,” he drawled, glancing at Hermione, “I suppose Granger’s got her spreadsheets ready. Shouldn’t be too hard for her to conjure up a whole new personality, right? Something delightfully boring, no doubt.”

Before Hermione could snap back, Harry gave Malfoy a sharp look. "There is a reason the Minister decided to bring in Hermione as a second set of eyes and ears."

Malfoy tilted his head, his expression equal parts amused and disinterested. “Right. Because a mission like this needs two people instead of just the one who’s already been doing it.”

Harry’s gaze hardened. “Your cover is intact, Malfoy, but we need someone on the inside who isn’t… you.”

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek, resisting the urge to smirk. But Malfoy caught the flicker of amusement on her face.

“Well,” he drawled, glancing at her, “if I’m stuck with a partner, at least it’s someone who’ll keep the paperwork organized. I’m sure Granger’s already got color-coded plans for every eventuality.”

She shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. “At least I’ll be prepared, unlike you, who’ll probably just charm your way through and hope no one notices your total lack of substance.”

Draco smirked, clearly enjoying the reaction. “Charming people is a skill, Granger. Maybe I’ll give you a lesson or two—if you ask nicely.”

“Enough,” Harry cut in, raising a hand to silence them both. “You’ve got your assignments. Hermione, I need your undercover identity finalized and submitted for approval by six tonight. Malfoy, you’re assisting her with this.”

Hermione’s head snapped toward Harry. “What?”

Harry met her incredulous stare without flinching. “You heard me. He’s got more experience with deception than you do, and you’ll need all the help you can get.”

Malfoy’s smirk widened. “Finally, some recognition for my talents.”

Hermione groaned inwardly, already dreading the hours ahead.

*****

The office Harry had assigned them was cramped, with walls painted a drab shade of grey and a single desk barely large enough for two people. Hermione sat at one end, a quill in her hand, furiously scribbling notes in her journal. Malfoy, of course, was draped lazily across the only chair with a decent cushion, twirling his wand between his fingers.

“You’ve been staring at that page for twenty minutes, Granger. Surely you’ve come up with something by now.”

“I’m brainstorming,” Hermione snapped without looking up.

“Oh, I can see that. Very inspiring. The furious scribbling really screams ‘master of deception.’”

She slammed the quill down, spinning to face him. “Unlike you, Malfoy, I don’t rely on snide remarks and a trust fund to get through life. Some of us actually put in the effort.”

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you’re calling this? Effort? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re preparing for an interview at Flourish and Blotts, not infiltrating a group of criminals.”

Hermione clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to throw something at him. “You’re supposed to be helping me.”

“I am helping. I’m helping by pointing out that your current approach is rubbish.” He leaned forward, his tone softening slightly, though the smirk remained. “Look, this isn’t about being the cleverest witch in the room. It’s about being convincing. What kind of person do you think these people would trust?”

Hermione hesitated, her fingers brushing the edge of her notebook. She hated to admit it, but he had a point.

“Well,” she said slowly, “My alias needs to have a rich backstory—where I grew up, my favorite dessert, maybe even a pet. I was thinking she’s from an academic family in Edinburgh—”

Malfoy groaned, cutting her off. “Merlin, Granger, you’re not writing a novel. Just pick a name and don’t talk about books for five minutes. It’ll be an improvement.”

She flushed, glaring daggers at him. “Would you like me to hex your mouth shut, or are you actually going to contribute something useful?”

Malfoy smirked. “I’d like to see you try, but let’s stay focused, shall we? They’re criminals, not Ravenclaws. They’re not looking for ‘intelligent’ or ‘resourceful.’ They’re looking for someone who fits in. Someone who can talk their way out of a tight spot without resorting to a textbook definition.”

Hermione’s cheeks burned, but she refused to let him see her falter. “Fine,” she said curtly. “What do you suggest, then?”

Malfoy’s smirk widened. “Let’s see… How about you try being someone a little less… Hermione Granger? Give them a reason to let their guard down. Start small, listen to the great master of deception in the room because he tires of repeating himself and give me a name.”

Hermione stared at him, contemplating to turn his stupid face green, and then looked down at her notebook. A name. That seemed easy enough. Except every suggestion that came to mind sounded ridiculous. She hated feeling this unprepared.

“Fine,” she muttered after a pause. “Call me… Eliza Carter.”

Malfoy snorted. “Eliza Carter? Sounds like someone who sells overpriced cauldrons on Diagon Alley. Try again.”

“Then what would you suggest?”

He tapped his chin thoughtfully, his expression far too smug for her liking. “Something simpler. Less posh. How about Eva Blake?”

Hermione frowned, turning the name over in her mind. It wasn’t bad, she had to admit. But she wasn’t about to let him win this easily. “Fine. Eva Blake. But if you mock me one more time—”

“Yes, you'll hex my mouth shut, I remember.” He grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “Please, Granger, as if you’d waste that level of effort on me.”

She exhaled sharply, muttering under her breath as she returned to her notes. “Three days,” she murmured. “We’ll see who’s laughing when this mission is over.”

From his chair, Malfoy’s soft chuckle lingered in the air. “Looking forward to it, Eva.”

*****

The briefing room was pleasantly quiet, save for the soft shuffle of parchment and the ticking of an old clock in the corner. Kingsley Shacklebolt sat at the head of the table, his broad shoulders filling the chair, his usual calm demeanor betraying no hint of the tension in the air. Hermione sat across from him, her hands gripping her spreadsheet paper so tightly that the edges curled. Malfoy stood beside her, leaning casually against the wall, his expression unreadable.

"Alright, Granger," Kingsley said, his deep voice cutting through the stillness. "Present your identity."

Hermione nodded stiffly, her throat dry. She had worked hard on this, and yet, now that the moment had come, she felt unprepared. She’d been given until 6 p.m. to present her identity—less than six hours—and though the identity was solid—she and Malfoy had devised it carefully—it still felt like she was about to walk into a lion’s den with nothing but her nerves to help her. They weren't being very helpful currently.

"Her name is Eva Blake," Hermione began, her words coming out a little too quickly. She cleared her throat, trying to steady herself. "She’s... a freelance consultant working in the darker corners of magical commerce. She’s... not well-known, but she’s... connected. She deals in rare and, uh, dangerous artifacts. People who don’t ask questions come to her for their needs."

Her mind raced as she tried to remember the rest of what she'd worked out with Malfoy. She felt like her mouth was moving faster than her brain. "She’s not one of them—she’s not a known sympathizer, but she’s known to work with Death Eater sympathizers. She’s not someone you’d notice, but if you need something dark, you know who to ask."

Kingsley’s eyes never left her face, and the weight of his gaze made her throat tighten. "And how does she operate? How does she survive?" he asked.

Hermione blinked, forcing herself to focus. She had to get this right. There was no turning back now.

"She’s adaptable. She’s... always moving between the cracks," Hermione continued. "She knows how to avoid being noticed, how to manipulate situations. She’s... cutthroat when she has to be. She’s been involved in shady dealings before, and she’s not afraid of... using violence if necessary."

Kingsley nodded slowly, clearly assessing the weight of her words. He gave a brief glance to Malfoy, then back to Hermione. "What does she have to gain from becoming a part of their organisation? And how do we know that ‘Eva Blake’ won’t blow our cover the moment she steps into the field?"

Before Hermione could respond, Malfoy’s voice cut in, his tone dismissive and dry. "With how uptight and nervous she sounds, she’ll blow our cover before we even make it out the door," he said, his eyes flicking to Hermione with thinly veiled annoyance.

Hermione’s jaw tightened. "Excuse me?" she snapped, giving him a sharp look.

Malfoy didn't smile, but it was clear he was unfazed by her outcry, amused, even. "You can’t go pretending to be Eva Blake with that much bloody uncertainty in your voice. People will smell the doubt from a mile away."

Hermione clenched her fists, but she held her ground. "If you're so high and mighty, how about you give me some actual pointers instead of spewing bloody mockery all day?" Oh, how she wished to strangle him in that moment.

Kingsley cleared his throat, interrupting before the argument could escalate further. "That’s enough," he said, his voice calm but firm. "Granger, you’ve given us the basics, but Malfoy’s right. You need to be more convincing." He glanced between them, his gaze lingering for a moment on the tension brewing between the two. "Get it right. You’ve got two more days until the mission starts."

Hermione nodded stiffly, swallowing her frustration. She could feel Malfoy’s eyes on her as she turned to leave, but she didn’t give him the satisfaction of reacting.

Once they were in the corridor, Hermione didn’t wait for him to catch up before she started walking. He had to jog to match her pace, a small satisfaction. Her thoughts were racing as she tried to focus. She wasn’t sure she could pull this off, but she didn't have a choice. She had to get convincing, fast.

After they turned a third corner, Malfoy glanced over at her, his expression unreadable, and broke the silence. "You’ve got a long way to go before you’re ready to walk into a room full of people who would kill you for a single slip-up, Granger," he said, his voice low but sharp. "You need to be Eva Blake. Not just her name, but her attitude. Her... everything."

Hermione clenched her jaw. He was right and she knew it, but she was far too annoyed with him to give him even an inch right now. "And I’m supposed to do that in a couple of days? Get real, Malfoy."

"Yes, that’s the plan," he said, not breaking stride. "You don’t have a choice."

Hermione felt a surge of irritation. "Don’t you dare tell me what I can or can’t do." She knew she was being nonsensical, but she couldn't stop her mouth from moving.

Malfoy didn’t flinch. "Well, I’m telling you now. If you don’t get it together, we’re both as good as dead."

She swallowed the retort she wanted to fire off. There were certain boundaries she wasn't angry enough to cross yet. She shot him a withering look instead.

Malfoy, in turn, quirked his eyebrow, but seemed to also consider his words. Hermione felt a small sense of relief at the thought of him shutting up for once, before he spoke again. She didn't suppress her eyeroll.

"Granger," Malfoy muttered, quickening his pace. "You need to practice. You’ve got two days to make yourself unrecognizable to anyone who isn’t a Death Eater."

"Thank you for stating the obvious, Malfoy," she retorted, but her voice lacked the bite she had had a few moments ago.

He used the opening she had given him with that. "Apologies, I wouldn't want to take over your job for you." She scowled at him.

Malfoy must have finally gotten tired of her half-run through the Ministry, as she suddenly got halted to a stop by his hand grabbing her by the elbow. She recoiled and immediately ripped her arm free from his grasp. "Don't touch me, Malfoy."

Malfoy raised both hands in mock surrender, his smirk faltering for just a moment. A flicker of something—surprise, maybe?—passed through his eyes at her sharp reaction. He recovered quickly, though, his usual air of indifference snapping back into place. "Relax, Granger," he said smoothly. "No need to get your knickers in a twist."

Hermione scowled, her pulse hammering in her ears. She didn’t trust herself to respond without snapping, so she stayed silent. This had escalated enough already. The last thing she needed was to lose control in front of Malfoy.

Unfazed, Malfoy filled the silence, his tone irritatingly light. "For someone so desperate to save the world, you’ve got a funny way of making allies." He crossed his arms, feigning a thoughtful expression. "But fine. No touching. Message received."

He stepped back, giving her space, though his gaze remained fixed on her. "Look," he said, his tone hardening again, "you’re not going to bluff your way through this mission with sheer indignation. You're not me. You need help."

Hermione let out a short laugh, entirely devoid of humor. "Help from you? You’ve got to be joking. All you've been doing is crack jokes. Unfunny ones, by the way."

His smirk returned, wider now. "Oh, of course. I find nothing more amusing than the prospect of getting killed because you can’t act your way out of a paper bag. The funniest thing to happen to me all year." He paused, his tone dropping. "This isn’t a joke, Granger. You need to pull it together."

Her fists clenched at her sides. "I’m working on it, Malfoy," she said through gritted teeth. "But forgive me if pretending to be someone who associates with Death Eaters isn’t second nature to me."

Malfoy’s eyes darkened, his voice turning colder. "You think it’s second nature to me?" he said, stepping closer. "You think I don’t have to fight every instinct telling me to get as far away from this as possible? This isn’t about what you’re comfortable with, Granger. It’s about what’s necessary. And right now, what’s necessary is you being convincing enough not to get us both killed."

The weight of his words hit her like a blow, leaving her breathless for a moment. Hermione forced herself to take a slow, deliberate breath. Her hands still trembled, but her voice was steady when she spoke. "Fine," she said, her tone clipped. "Then help me. But if you’re just going to keep acting like a prick, Malfoy, I swear—"

"Alright," he interrupted, his tone clipped. "Meet me tonight. Seven o’clock."

Her brow furrowed. "Where? Why?"

He hesitated, then shrugged. "The Leaky Cauldron. Public enough to keep things civil but private enough to work. You and I are going to practice."

Hermione stared at him, weighing her options. There weren’t many. She still hated the idea of relying on him, but he wasn’t wrong—she couldn’t afford to fail. "Fine," she said, more firmly this time. "But if you show up late—"

"You’ll what?" he interrupted, a sly grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Lecture me to death?"

Her glare could have melted steel. "Just be there on time," she snapped, turning sharply on her heel. She marched down the corridor, her footsteps echoing, determined not to let him get the last word.

Malfoy didn’t follow this time, but she could feel his gaze boring into her back. She refused to look back, not even once. Two days wasn’t long, but it would have to be enough. Failure wasn’t an option—not for her, not for this mission. And if it meant enduring Malfoy’s insufferable company to succeed, she would have to find a way to make it work.

*****

The cold bit at Hermione’s fingertips, and she shoved her hands deeper into the pockets of her coat. A biting November wind howled through Diagon Alley, pulling at her hair and stinging her cheeks. She stood just outside The Leaky Cauldron’s entrance, glancing at her watch for the third time in as many minutes. It was seven o’clock on the dot, and Malfoy, surprisingly, wasn’t late.

Of course, he wasn’t early, either.

She spotted him the moment he turned the corner, his unmistakable silhouette moving with infuriating ease through the bustling street. His scarf was perfectly knotted, his coat tailored to fit him like a second skin. He exuded the kind of effortless poise that Hermione had long since decided was both natural and deeply irritating.

Malfoy’s eyes met hers as he approached, his lips curling into a smirk. "Waiting out here in the cold, Granger? Were you that eager to see me?"

Hermione’s scowl deepened. "You’re right on time, Malfoy. Barely. Shall we?" She turned sharply on her heel, pushing open the pub’s door without waiting for a response.

The warmth of the Leaky Cauldron enveloped her instantly, though it did little to ease her annoyance. The pub was alive with chatter and the clinking of mugs, a haze of pipe smoke curling near the ceiling. Hermione made a beeline for a corner table, far enough from the other patrons to allow for some privacy.

Malfoy followed, shedding his coat and scarf with an exaggerated flourish before draping them over the back of his chair. "Cozy little spot you’ve picked," he remarked, sliding into the seat across from her.

"I’m not here for coziness," she replied tersely. "Let’s just get this over with."

"Ah, there’s that charm you’re so famous for." He leaned back in his chair, his smirk firmly in place. "Alright, Granger. Lesson one: you need to stop looking like you’re about to hex someone every time you speak. It’s not the most convincing act for someone trying to blend in with Death Eater sympathizers."

Hermione crossed her arms, her posture rigid. "Maybe if you explained how I’m supposed to act, instead of just criticizing me, we’d make some progress."

Malfoy’s smirk widened, and he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "It’s simple. Confidence, Granger. You’re playing the part of someone who believes they belong. Someone who doesn’t flinch at the idea of… unsavory company."

"I don’t flinch," she shot back defensively.

"Really?" He arched a brow. "Let’s test that theory."

Without warning, he reached across the table, his fingers brushing hers where they rested on the tabletop. She snatched her hand back as though burned, her eyes narrowing into a glare.

"Are you demented? I said don’t touch me quite literally an hour ago," she hissed, her voice low but venomous.

Malfoy regarded her for a moment, his gaze sharper now. "You’re going to have to do better than that," he said, his tone cooling. "If you freeze up every time someone gets too close, we’re both as good as dead. Let’s try again. Pretend I’m an old friend. Someone you trust."

Hermione let out a humorless laugh. "Trust? With you? I take it back, you are funny."

She could swear he saw real enjoyment flash across his features. It was gone as quickly as it had appeared, and she wondered if she had imagined it. "Not me, Granger. Your role. Remember? This isn’t about what you feel. It’s about what they see."

She hated that he was right. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to meet his gaze, willing her voice to remain steady. "Fine. What do I say, then?"

Malfoy leaned forward, his expression a mixture of mockery and challenge. "You start by looking like you’re happy to see me. Smile, Granger. You remember how to do that, don’t you?"

The glare she shot him could have melted steel. But she plastered on a stiff, unconvincing smile, her jaw tight.

"Terrifying," he drawled, his lips twitching with barely concealed amusement. "Let’s try not to scare anyone off, shall we?"

The back-and-forth continued, with Hermione stumbling over phrases and Malfoy’s constant interruptions doing little to help. But by the time their drinks arrived—two pints he’d ordered without asking—Hermione was at least managing a passable imitation of someone who didn’t loathe the man sitting across from her.

"Not bad," Malfoy admitted grudgingly, raising his glass in a mock toast. "For a fourth attempt."

Hermione ignored the jab and raised her glass stiffly, her fingers tightening around the cold, condensation-slick surface. "Let’s not celebrate mediocrity," she muttered before taking a small sip, wincing at the bitter taste.

Malfoy grinned, clearly enjoying himself. "And let’s not downplay progress, either. Baby steps, Granger."

She set her glass down with a clink and leaned forward, lowering her voice. "Fine. What’s next, then? Are we moving on to practicing secret handshakes or—Merlin forbid—how to deliver Death Eater small talk?"

Malfoy’s grin widened, and he tilted his head as if considering her suggestion. "Tempting, but no. We’re sticking to the basics for now. The next lesson is about body language."

Hermione arched an eyebrow. "Body language?"

"Yes. Your posture screams ‘head girl on patrol.’ Straight-backed, arms crossed, chin raised. It’s very… authoritarian." He took a deliberate sip of his drink. "And very obvious."

Hermione resisted the urge to cross her arms more tightly. "What’s wrong with good posture?"

"Nothing, if you’re lecturing first-years about cauldron safety. But we’re aiming for subtlety here. Relax, Granger. Lean back. Look at me like you’re enjoying this conversation."

Her eyes narrowed. "That’s asking a lot."

"And yet, here you are," he quipped, gesturing for her to follow his lead.

With a sigh that spoke volumes of her reluctance, Hermione leaned back in her chair, her shoulders stiff despite her best efforts. She forced herself to uncross her arms and rest them on the table instead.

"Better," Malfoy said, scrutinizing her with an almost unnerving intensity. "Now, soften the eyes a bit. You look like you’re planning my funeral."

"I might be," she muttered under her breath, earning a low chuckle from him.

"And relax your mouth," he added, ignoring her barb. "That tight little line is very… Hermione Granger. Not exactly what we’re going for."

Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes and instead took a deep breath, forcing her jaw to unclench. She felt ridiculous, like a schoolgirl practicing for a drama production.

"Much better," Malfoy said after a moment, leaning forward again. "See? You’re a natural."

She gave him a withering look. "I’m not sure I want to be a natural at pretending to enjoy your company."

"Then consider it an act of self-preservation," he said smoothly. "Because if you can’t sell this out there, they’ll eat you alive."

The words sent a chill down her spine, and for a moment, Hermione’s annoyance gave way to something heavier—fear, perhaps, or the weight of the task ahead. She glanced away, her fingers tracing the edge of her glass.

"Granger," Malfoy said, his tone softer now, though still edged with his trademark drawl. "You’ll do fine. You just need to get out of your own head."

Her gaze snapped back to his, and for once, she didn’t have a quick retort. She hated to admit it, but there was something oddly reassuring about his confidence, even if it was laced with smugness.

"Are you always this insufferable when you’re teaching someone?" she asked after a moment, her voice lighter now, almost teasing.

He smirked. "Only when the student is particularly hopeless."

Hermione snorted despite herself, shaking her head. "Hopeless, my arse. Let’s see if you’re still laughing when I’ve mastered this and leave you in the dust."

For a fleeting moment, Malfoy’s expression shifted—surprise flickering in his eyes, followed by something softer, though she couldn't figure out what it was. He lifted his glass, the corner of his mouth twitching as though he were fighting back a genuine smile. "I’ll hold you to that."

This time, Hermione didn’t hesitate to clink hers against his. The sound was small but significant, a brief truce amidst their endless sparring.

As the night wore on, their conversation shifted, the tension between them loosening just slightly. They were still far from friends—miles apart, even—but in that dim corner of the Leaky Cauldron, they found a fragile rhythm.

And for now, that would have to be enough.

*****

The chill in the air nipped at Hermione’s skin, and she couldn’t help but shiver slightly. They had made their way deep into Knockturn Alley, past its twisted, crooked shops and the shadowy figures who seemed to blend with the darkness. It felt like stepping far away from civilization, and Hermione’s every instinct told her she should be elsewhere, anywhere but here.

“This was a bad idea,” she muttered, pulling her cloak tighter around herself.

Malfoy, walking effortlessly beside her, didn’t respond immediately. His eyes were trained on the alleyway, his posture relaxed but alert. "You're fine," he finally said, though his tone held the slightest hint of amusement. "Just follow my lead, and you won’t have to worry about anything."

Hermione glanced at him sharply. “Yeah, because that worked so well earlier.”

He shrugged. “One step at a time, Granger.”

They passed a dark storefront that seemed abandoned, the windows shuttered but with faint glimmers of movement inside. Hermione was just about to comment when a sudden commotion from a nearby alley caught her attention. She paused, squinting into the shadows.

A group of men stood around a cart, its contents spilling out onto the cobblestones in an unsettling display. There were crates filled with various items—some of them in wrapped parcels that seemed far too neatly organized for anything legal. One of the men was holding up what looked like a bundle of potions, shaking them as if inspecting the quality.

Hermione’s breath hitched. She knew those potions—black market wares, easy to get if you knew the right people, but illegal nonetheless.

“Malfoy,” she whispered, her voice tense. “Those are—those are restricted potions. And that’s not even counting whatever else is in those crates.” She looked at him, her heart pounding. “We can’t just stand here. We should—”

“Don’t.” Malfoy's voice was low, but there was an undeniable authority in it. He reached out, grabbing her wrist before she could step forward.

She shot him a glare, her frustration mounting. “What do you mean, ‘don’t’?” She shook his hand off. “Those are illegal! We should be doing something.”

Malfoy's eyes flicked to the group, sizing them up quickly. The men were distracted, clearly too wrapped up in their business to notice the two of them. “What we should do,” he said softly, his tone steely, “is nothing. Not yet.”

Hermione’s brow furrowed. “Why not?”

“Because you don’t rush in without knowing who you’re dealing with.” He glanced over at her, his expression darkening. “That lot? They’re exactly who we’re here to learn about. Making a scene won’t help us.”

“But we can’t just—”

“I know,” he cut her off, his voice barely a whisper. “It’s hard to just let this go. But we’re not here to play the hero, Granger. We’re here to gather intel and help you fit in so you don't get killed in two days, not make them suspicious.”

Hermione clenched her jaw, torn between her instinct to step in and her growing understanding that this wasn’t as simple as she'd hoped. She watched, frustration clawing at her chest, as one of the men tossed a handful of Galleons onto the cart in exchange for one of the potions.

The two of them stayed hidden in the shadows, watching as the transaction unfolded. The men exchanged a few more words, all of them gruff, one of them handing over a black leather pouch that jingled with the unmistakable sound of coins.

Hermione’s fingers itched to step in, to make sure something was done about it, but Malfoy's calmness anchored her. For now, they observed. She took a steadying breath and focused on observing their mannerisms, their way of speaking whenever she caught words that were carried over the wind.

She was nothing if not adaptable, she told herself. She could almost hear Malfoy's snort in her head as a response. Even if he hadn't actually done anything irritating right now, she still shot a glare at the back of his head, just because.

As the group of men began to disperse, Malfoy turned to Hermione, his expression now serious. “You’ll get your chance, Granger. But tonight, we walk away with information, not heroism.”

Hermione gritted her teeth but nodded. The adrenaline of wanting to act was still there, but she had to admit, he was right. They couldn’t afford to blow their cover before the mission had even begun.

*****

As they stepped back into the bustling heart of Diagon Alley, the sudden change in atmosphere was almost jarring. The dark, oppressive weight of Knockturn Alley seemed to lift, replaced by the familiar sounds of chatter and clinking glass from nearby shops. It was a world where nothing too dangerous seemed to be going on, at least on the surface.

Hermione couldn’t help but exhale, the tension in her shoulders easing ever so slightly. The air here was lighter, more predictable. People milled about, shopping for their potion ingredients or discussing the latest magical gossip, oblivious to the undercurrent of danger Hermione could still feel.

"Well," she said, turning toward Draco with a raised eyebrow, "that was certainly an... eye-opening experience."

Malfoy's lips quirked as he glanced around, clearly more at ease now. "Were you hoping for something a bit more exciting?" he teased, his tone light but his eyes sharp.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "No, I was hoping for a little less of that," she said, gesturing vaguely in the direction they’d just walked from. "I’m all for stopping dark magic, but sometimes I feel like I'm walking into a bloody hornet's nest."

He chuckled, the sound surprisingly genuine. "Yeah, well, that's sort of the point. You can't stop the hornets if you're too busy tiptoeing around their nest."

Hermione shot him a sidelong glance, her lips twitching. "And you know this from personal experience, do you? Should I be concerned?"

He looked at her, feigning innocence. "Only if you're afraid of getting stung."

She snorted, shaking her head. "You know, Malfoy, for someone who claims to be all relaxation all the time, you certainly have a way of talking like you’re the one leading this operation."

Malfoy grinned. "Someone’s got to take the reins around here, Granger. Besides, you’re not exactly a picture of calm and collected yourself."

Hermione crossed her arms, a challenge in her voice. "I am always calm and collected."

"Is that what you call that?" He gestured vaguely to her stiff posture and clenched jaw. "You were ready to hex someone back there."

She narrowed her eyes. "At least I don't look like I'm about to burst into a dramatic monologue at any given moment."

His smirk widened, though there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—something like amusement?-Hermione was getting irritated at the amount of complex feelings she could see but not read on him.

"Touché. But if it makes you feel any better, I’m pretty sure I was just as ready to hex someone."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, a hint of disbelief in her expression. "You? Really?"

"Shocking, isn’t it?" Draco said with a mock sigh. "I may have a reputation for being calm and collected, but every now and then, even I want to throw a good hex in there."

"Merlin forbid," Hermione quipped, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "We wouldn't want anyone to think you're not polished."

"Ah, but it's all part of my charm, Granger." He grinned, the smirk still tugging at his lips. "Polished enough to not be too intimidating at first glance, but menace enough inside to get to where I need to be."

He paused, another unreadable look in his eyes. "You know, you're tougher than you look. Maybe you will actually survive this."

Hermione’s expression softened slightly, though she kept her guard up. "I’m not sure that’s saying much, Malfoy. I’m pretty sure you just insulted me, but I’ll let it slide."

He chuckled again. "You know, Granger, I think I’m starting to understand why people find you so... intimidating."

She stopped walking, turning to face him fully, and raised a questioning eyebrow. "More insults coming my way?"

He put a hand to his heart and feigned offense. "I wouldn't dare."

Her lips twitched as she fought back a smile. For a moment, she allowed herself to relax, the tension between them fading slightly. Then, as if remembering herself, she stiffened, her gaze shifting away.

"I think I’ve had enough for tonight," Hermione muttered, her voice suddenly colder than before.

Malfoy paused, looking at her quizzically. "What, no witty retort?"

She shook her head, turning toward the direction of the nearest apparition point. "No. Goodnight, Malfoy."

He stared at her, a flicker of something again crossing his face, but he said nothing as she walked away.

#fanfic #ao3 writer #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #harry potter #dramione #draco x hermione #auror hermione granger #enemies to lovers #enemies to friends to lovers #hurt/comfort #Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue/EWE #morally grey draco malfoy #everybody has issues #espionage #no beta we die like men

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saltiestcoconut · 2 years ago

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can i request an aiyusa sickfic (either one of them gets sick) 👀 as fluffy or as angsty as you like. thank you in advanced!

This is exactly what you asked for huh nonny? (It is not its more comedic than fluff oops~)

Pairing: aiyusa/aiball Rating: T Content Warnings: None

Friendly reminder that I'm accepting requests for aiyusa prompts (ps if you want an angstier take on this prompt-ish do look forward to aiyusa month~ it's going to be fun!)

Yusaku knew something was wrong when Ai didn't respond first thing in the morning. While laziness was the norm for Ai, he made sure Yusaku had food to eat during the weekdays.

Yusaku shook Ai's SOLtis, but he was unresponsive. Yusaku shrugged and got ready for school anyways.

"Bye, Ai. I'm going to school, now, without anything to eat, because I forgot to make food."

No response. Yusaku thought it would be enough to rouse Ai from his stupor.

Yusaku leaned over Ai, his tie creasing the side of Ai's face. "Ai, I'm leaving. Don't you have something to say to me before I leave?"

No response.

Yusaku straighted up, then announced, "I can no longer afford to spend 500 en a month. I'm going to cancel Hulu and instead use the money to invest in crypto."

Ai shot up. "You wouldn't. You need Spotify to live, you're so addicted to it. Why would you even invest in crypto, invest in me instead I can actually make you money, popular, whatever you want."

Yusaku crossed his arms. "Got you. What's wrong? You were ready to let me walk out without saying bye, or making me eat."

Ai blinked his too long eyelashed, "sorry Yusaku-chan, I couldn't respond to anything today. I think I might have picked up a virus somewhere."

"Were you watching porn again or something?"

"No! Gosh that was a joke, Yusaku, stop bringing it up all the time!"

Yusaku smirked, then sat down at his computer. He rummaged around for a few minutes until he was able to slap Ai's porting cable on his desk. "A virus, huh? Then let's take care of that real quick."

Ai pressed himself against the wall. "Don't you have school? Go to school, and you can deal with this later, I'll be fine."

"No. School is just a formality, you're more important than anything school has to offer."

Yusaku knew he trapped Ai when Ai's cheeks turned pink and he quickly averted his eyes. "Don't say that…" Ai then pointed an accusatory finger at Yusaku. "You're just using me as an excuse to not go to school!"

Yusaku smiled at Ai. "Turn around, I need to hook you up to the computer."

"No! Go to school!"

Yusaku crawled on the bed and tried to turn Ai around. Ai, however, fought Yusaku with gusto.

"Help! Help! Yusaku-chan is molesting me! I don't want anything to be stuck in me right now!"

"Damnit Ai, we've done this multiple times, why the fuss now?"

"You need to go to school!"

"Let me take care of you! You're my responsibility, so let me handle this."

Ai stopped struggling, long enough for Yusaku to tug him closer to the computer.

"You're not… I didn't mean… I'm not something you have to take care of all the time."

Yusaku gathered Ai's hair in a loose ponytail and twisted it into a shitty bun. "I didn't mean it like that. You entrusted me with the cyberse, didn't you? I'm just doing the minimum."

Yusaku hooked Ai up to the computer. He heard a huff. "Classic Yusaku, not saying what's on his mind. I know what you really mean, though."

"Do you now?" Yusaku said half-heartedly in favor of scanning Ai's code. As a more complex virus, ordinary anti-virus softwares wouldn't work for Ai.

"Yeah. I know that you love me, and that you care for me, and what you really wanted to say is that we take care of each other."

"Yeah… something… like that…" Yusaku trailed off. He had already been absorbed by the task at hand.

"You're not even paying attention to me," Ai whined. "I thought we were having a heart to heart moment!"

Yusaku hummed. Finally, he found the virus, which seemed to be the type of virus that gathered information and sent it somewhere else. He carefully dealt with the virus as Ai chanted his name.

"Yeah, you're right," Yusaku finally said, if only to get him to shut up.

"So you agree you're emotionally constipated!"

"Yeah."

Yusaku finished his sweep of Ai's code and leaned over to power off the SOLtis. He needed to restart the SOLtis to properly rid it of the virus.

Yusaku detached the cable and casually tossed it aside. While Ai powered back on, Yusaku laid him down and dragged his chair closer to the bed.

Ai slowly lifted himself from the bed. "What time is it?"

"Two thirty."

Ai stared at him. "You're the worst."

"Glad you're okay."

Ai tugged Yusaku onto the bed. "Your punishment for being such a bad boy is to rest with me."

"You don't need to sleep off a virus."

"Yes I do. Let's go to sleep."

Yusaku was thus forced to spend the rest of the day smothered in Ai's embrace.

#me? promoting my own event? sure why not fjkdsjkl #aiyusa #aiballshipping #ygo vrains #scribble scrabble

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swizzee · 2 years ago

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Ok ok, I don’t have any art to share cause I’m in the heat of the moment but I need to rave about the new ToH episode for a second

I was bummed about the leaks and made it my mission to go spoiler free until the premiere so I could enjoy it the way Diana intended

AND HOLY FUCK SHE DID NOT DISAPPOINT

I love all the new lore we’ve just got from the new episode cause it really ties everything from season two in. The ancient rival races of collectors and titans killing each other off so one race could prevail but then their endlings become…. Friends? Also the supreme being of the universe is literally a toddler? So silly, so perfect. One thing I’m dying to learn more about is the collector code cause it’s hinted about a tiny bit and also how the Collector just changed it cause he wanted to play hide and seek?? SO SILLY. King literally reads it and doesn’t question anything, he walks down the halls of the palace and ignores the depictions of his ANCESTORS LITERALLY GETTING MURDERED!!? Hello sir your fat head is hiding the lore! I am excited to see King learn the full extent of his powers cause if they’re equally as powerful as the Collector’s, the final show down is gonna kick ass!

One of my biggest regrets was embracing literally every Thanks to Them spoiler I could get my fingers on so the whole story was kinda meh when I actually watched it. One thing that no one even bothered mentioning was all the Star Trek references! The whole season we learn about how Luz’s parents got together over a shared love of Star Trek. Gus and Hunter dress up the whole episode, I mean twist my arm and kiss my soul Diana!! I love Star Trek so much, almost as much as I love crossovers. So Star Trek x any of my other interests? Just steal my heart already!

BEAM ME UP??? Hunter dressed as Data, Gus as maybe Riker or Forge??? I am in love

Willow coping with her emotions and her friends helping her realize she’s more than just the rock of the group was so wonderful and really embraced so much of the Willow character development we never got to see. Her and hunter holding hands at the end was adorable too. Fingers crossed for a tiny cheek kiss by the end of the next special 🤞

Luz and her mom finally being able to understand each other was so adorable and done with so much passion, the whole scene left me in tears. Her mom relating back to Luz of how she was a weird, nerdy kid in high school and just wanted to protect her daughter from relentless bullying honestly hit way to close to home. I’ve always been a weird kid (ie. Sci Fi enthusiast, artsy fartsy, lover of cartoons, hater of sports) and have had the same conversations Luz had with her mom in season one. “You need to calm down, try to relate to other kids more. There’s nothing wrong with you, you might just be a bit… much for some people”. It broke my heart seeing their strained relationship but that just made me even more in awe of them bonding over their weird passion.

��All I ever wanted was to be understood”. She’s just like me fr ☹️💔

Luz’s palesman reveal was so long awaited by everyone and Diana definitely did not disappoint. I saw so many videos on theories about her palesman but I never considered every single theory would be right lmao. Anyway, string bean is so perfect and a great reflection of how Luz is so much more than a silly otter or a sulking sparrow, she embodies everything. I love String Bean, especially all the different forms they offer for her, can’t wait to draw all of them!!!

More girlfriend content! I love them sm, mmmm young love, so yummy, GET IN MY MOUTH EGGEGEGDHJDJKE 🤬💖

I understand that the third season was meant to be more than three specials but tbh, I can’t imagine seeing such a beautiful piece of artistry separated into episodes. The colors, character designs, plot, everything. It was all leaps and bounds ahead of Thanks to Them so my hopes are even higher for Watching and Searching

This is one of my favorite screen caps, enjoy!

The glittery eyes, the flowing tears, the way the light reflects off her face in a way the separates her from the scenery??? PLEASE OH MY GOD IT WILL KILL ME VGFTVGTDVGYDGVHDHUCUDHCUDJ

#toh hunter #toh willow #toh luz #toh amity #toh camila #toh king #toh gus #ToH #owl house #the owl house #the collecter toh #disney #cartoon #for the future #toh spoilers #the owl house season three spoilers #toh s3e2 #animation

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ignitedfms · 4 months ago

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[ kahlil beth, demi-man, he/them ] look who just landed! CAIRO 'BLAISE’ TAYLOR, i sure hope you packed all you need. perhaps you’re not worried as an UNDERBOSS of THE SKELETON CREW and GAME DEVELOPER at SONY-NJ the city has plenty of spots for a 24 year old HUMAN like you. you’ll be known in the city soon enough as THE REBEL, being FLAMBOYANT and MERCILESS. ( kip, 26, CST, removed for discretion )

00000 - - INTERVIEW INCOMING - - - 001

001101 1- - ARE you A LOCAL OF MARS OR HAVE you LANDED HERE RECENTLY? WHAT IS your OPINION OF THE CITY OF NEW JAKARTA? - 00011011

he leaned back in his chair, a small smirk on his face as he peered at the overseers that spoke to him. "hell yeah i'm a local," more than a local, he was a house hold name in the slums at this point. even now, he knew that the OVERSEERS knew who he was. whether this was a formality or an actual bust, either way they were aware what they were up against. sitting back up, cairo putting his elbows on the metal table. "what's my opinion on the city? you're asking me that? the shit is scum. it's the bottom floor of the poorest hotel with no clean up crew. it's not even worth the shit stains that lay in the lowest valley's waiting for their next victim," there was a pregnant pause, before cairo echoed a laugh, "but i fucking love it here."

0101022 - - ARE you AWARE OF THE CRIMINAL CIRCUIT OF NEW JAKARTA? WOULD you BE WILLING TO INFORM THE OVERSEERS IF you SEE ANYTHING OUT OF THE ORDINARY? - 001200

"would i be willing to inform the- you have got to be kidding me. those pigs? what do i look like a snitch?" cairo sent them a delicate smile, "i'm kidding i'm kidding, what am i supposed to say, 'yes of course, i could never betray the strange and cult like hierarchy that we've established on a new planet. i mean come oooooon, of course i pledge my allegiance. anything out of the ordinary officer,'" cairo saluted the man to hanker down his words, "you got it, one hundred percent," he smacked his lips, these guys were hacks, he knew it from the ground out, hacked into the deepest depths of their sanity and could word every tab right now on paper. ruin every single one of their puny lives, but instead he simply sat back again, face smug as he twirled the toothpick in his teeth.

000111311 - - HAVE you BEEN TESTED FOR ANY TRACES OF SIGHIR? HAVE your TESTS ON THE VIRUSES COME BACK CLEAN? - 0012133

without a word he twirled the envelop beneath his finger tips before gently flicking it in their direction. "yeah, one thing i got, is that shit," he pointed to the folder, "on me. you ain't finna take me out into some weird testing or some shit. i don't have no fucking powers. you think i'd be living in the akumu slums if i could read minds?" there was a little resentment pouring into his tone. the SIGHIR users didn't do anything to him directly sure, but to him they were always a one up, the anomaly of society, and there were people like him who had so much more to give than magic tricks and glowing iris'.

0113114 - - DO you HAVE ANYTHING TO DECLARE? WEAPONS, AUGMENTATIONS, MECHANICAL PARTS OR AI-RELATED APERTURE? - 0012444

getting to his feet he gave them a defeated sigh, beginning to unload his usual arsenal for their disposal. weapons clunk to the table in various metallic vibrations, the weight of each object evident in the different symphony of sounds that they created in their fall. holding up a finger, though more so for comedic effect, he unclipped the chains from each of his wrists, pulling a few silver rings from his fingers to join it. "i think that's every thing, though if you check the whip then i might be in alotta' trouble here am i right?"

his hands went up in defeat before he finally sat back in the chair again, crossing his arms over his chest, "as far as any of that computer brain bullshit, can code the hell out of it, but not letting you fuckers control my brain when it all goes down. no extra parts or systems, though i was really thinking of a bionic arm just for fun, what do you think? terminator style."

#ignitedinterview #new rp #plot driven rp #literate rp #semi appless rp #fantasy rp #lsrp #crime rp #city rp #scifi rp #mature rp

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mazzystah · 10 months ago

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SLUT! ┆CL¹⁶

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : All the hesitation about your relationship has finally made you think— it might just be worth it for once.

𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 : fluff. slight profanities.

𝐚/𝐧 : I saw a post saying Charles is so 1989 coded, so..

re-blogs/likes are much appreciated!

─ tap to listen !

You hated the media. And that was given, considering the fact that it hated you, too.

Though you never took your chances in admitting it to the world, it was quite obvious. The media always had to say something, and these days, their target was you.

There’s never a time where you’d blame Charles for it though, despite him being a huge factor of it.

It was stupid. You recalled saying the same phrase to Charles, to which he’d just laugh at together with a chaste kiss to your temple, thinking that could ease you up, even just a bit.

But none of it mattered. It was always going to cross your mind.

“I—“

“Don’t.” sternly, you said, refraining Charles from completing his sentence as you pointed a finger his way. “I know what you're about to say.”

He looked at you for a split second, before the corners of his lips rose up to an amused smile. His intention was just to simply tell you that he loves you, nothing but a quick reminder he was used to saying everyday.

“Oh, so now I can’t say that, too?” he raised his brows, taking a step to approach you, not thinking twice in pulling you closer, despite your resisting.

You nipped on your bottom lip, not daring to embrace back as your thoughts were getting to you once more. “I didn’t say that..”

“Then let me say it. Hm?” he induced, feeling his hands roam around your waist and shoulders as he tried to catch your gaze— it always seemed to avoid him nowadays. “Tell me, what is it this time, chérie?”

You stared at him, quite an unreadable expression as you hesitated for a moment, unsure if you wanted to break it to him that it’s just the same damn thing bothering you.. again.

The Australian heat wasn’t helping your state right now as you could feel your mind go fuzzy every now and then. Charles had already told you to not even think of taking a peak on the thread of comments, yet self control got the best of you.

Simply stated, it happened again.

The race concluded moments ago, and you couldn’t be more proud of him for making it to the podium as you watched him celebrate with his team from afar.

As much as you didn’t want to ruin this for him, you figured waiting further before talking to him was just going to make things worse.

You fiddled with your fingers as you walked up to where he stood, momentarily reminding yourself that you had to do it before you could think of turning back.

Right from the corner of his eyes, Charles had noticed you walking over, his smile seemingly going wider by the sight of you. He muttered a smell ‘hey’, grabbing ahold of your hand as you grew closer, pulling your knuckles to place a small kiss on top of it.

“I was just looking for you..” he whispered, looking directly at you as his thumb caressed your hand.

The way his gaze lingered─ it mentally made you do a double take, all the while thinking if this was the right thing to do. The hesitation increased thoroughly as you felt him pull you closer through your shoulders. Just before he can lean in, you spoke.

“Can we talk?” you sounded a bit shaky, and you hoped Charles didn't notice a bit of that. “Just the two of us.. please?”

Charles tilted his head to the side, as if he was asking you why through his expression. But brushing the suspicion off, he agreed, taking your hand to lead you someplace far from the crowd.

“I missed you..” he must've had the wrong idea as you felt his arms creep up on your waist, finally having the chance to finish his gesture from earlier. Your stomach churned as you felt his lips on your cheek, placing soft pecks every now and then.

“I have to tell you something.” you announced, gathering his full attention as he pulled back to look at you.

“Mhm, go on.”

You purse your lips, looking down on your hands. “Well─ I don't think we should continue this relationship.”

Charles' expression dropped immediately. “What?”

“Look, it's not your fault, Cha–” you explained, cutting yourself off mid sentence as you sighed. “It's them. The media."

The goddamn media.

The Monégasque looked at you for a second, before letting out a laugh, seemingly finding your need to break up funny.

“Charles, I'm serious..” you say, almost coming out as a whine as your expression was still blank. You looked as his grin slowly faltered into a small smile. He stepped closer, grabbing ahold of your chin.

“I never said you weren't.” he said, pulling a few strands of hair back to reveal your face more. “And if I remember, we already talked about this, no?”

“I know we have─

“Then why, cherie?” he interrupts, remaining calm as he looks at you, intently.

You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing but a small scoff came out as you shook your head. “I can't afford to be called a slut anymore, I just─”

Barely finishing your own sentence, you squeeze your eyes shut, placing a hand on your temple. “I get that I can always look away whenever and not listen, but I don't want to risk ruining this for you─ not like this, no.”

“And if it's worth it?” Charles countered, to which you bitterly chuckled as a response.

“It’s not, and it won't be, Charles.”

“What if it is?” he urged, placing a hand on your cheek to make you look at him. You could feel your lips tremble as you looked up, you didn't see why he would risk such a thing, especially because of you.

But now, it was hard to make up excuses, knowing that's all you've been giving Charles nowadays, to which he'd always debunk so easily.

Because in all honesty, he couldn't care less of what they might say. No comment or article was going to change the way he looked at you.

“Oh, amour,” he cooed, placing his lips on yours, batting his eyes shut. “Always so worried..” He chuckled softly, contagiously making you smile as well.

“It's stupid.” there it was, the same phrase he's been hearing from you all week. Charles shook his head, laughing as he pulled you closer.

You gazed at each other, suddenly seeing his lips lift up into a smirk as you narrowed your eyes at him. “You're not about to say it, are you?”

“Are you giving me permission?” he teased, tilting his head a little– all the while rolling your eyes at him.

“You were going to do it anyway..” you groaned, placing both your arms around his neck.

Charles’ grin remained, a feeling of relief washing over him as he realized─ he can finally say it without you having to doubt.

“Je t'aime, chérie.”

#⋆.˚‎ kira's !#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc f1 #formula one #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 imagine #cl16 x reader #cl16 #cl16 fic #charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut

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une-femme-de-lettres · 2 years ago

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Imagine Being 141’s designated hacker Just a thought I had while writing late at night

Sure you would have liked to spend those few days at the safe house enjoying a bit of quiet time, simply concerned with keeping watch or keeping track of your supplies. But your latest mission had rewarded you with a more than interesting set of data that could definitely earn you a nice little line to add to your list of ‘wins’, as Soap liked to call them.

It was indeed unfortunate that this set of data was contained in an encrypted hard drive. Accessing such crucial intel as easily as plugging a flash drive into a computer? Where’s the fun in that, right…

Now in your misfortune, luck had smiled upon you as you possessed just the skills necessary to crack that hard drive open. Just a few lines of code and you would be able to hack into it and get it to tell you all its secrets. Right?

Three days it took you to finally come up with a program that resembles something that would work on this thing. Three days, and almost as many nights.

You are presently on your third night sitting at the double screen of your computer, curled up under a blanket, living off of your usual rations washed down with the least tasteful energy drinks you could find at the corner shop, just below the apartment that served as a safe-house for you and your team.

You need to crack this thing open and fast. Otherwise you might very well lose your mind, if that wasn’t the case already, that is… Luckily, you are about to start testing your program, and from what you can read in the multi-coloured letters and numbers displayed on the dark background of the interface, you are seconds away from completing your task.

“You need to get some sleep, Shells,” Ghost calls softly from behind you, nudging at your arm as he comes to stand beside you. You pull the blanket up over your shoulder and keep looking at your screen, typing the last few lines.

The room you’re in is pitch black, only lit by the light emanating from your screens, making you wonder why the ‘dark mode’ on coding softwares is so fucking bright. Ghost looks at you, waiting for a response. You can feel his judgmental eyes on you but you don’t pay him any mind.

All your other teammates have probably gone to sleep by now, you can tell how late it is by the number of empty cans on your desk. But you need to finish this before you get to bed tonight. Tonight is the night and you definitely won’t be able to find sleep unless your program works. You tried yesterday and the day before. All you got were three of four hours of restless slumber.

“I’m nearly done, I just need to-” you respond to your Lieutenant, finally pushing the ‘enter’ key and waiting for your on-screen feedback. ‘Could not run code. Error code: 00x567283’ “-fuck!” you blurt with frustration, still trying to keep your voice down as to not wake up your teammates sleeping in the adjacent bedrooms. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” you mumble, rubbing the sleep off your eyes.

You hear Ghost chuckle from his spot beside you, his arms are crossed as he rests his weight on one leg. His right arm unfolds from the other slowly and he silently points to a line in your code. You were about to lose it and tell him to fuck off if he’s just gonna laugh at you but your attention is brought back onto your screen.

“Parenthesis,” he says simply.

You take a second to process everything. That line is missing a parenthesis, right where his finger is pointing. You roll your eyes, taking a deep breath and blocking it before correcting the line and running the code again. ‘Encryption assessed, begin data extraction? <yes> no ;’

“How the fuck did you see that…?” you say in a long exhale. He remains silent for a moment and bends over to close the space between you.

“I’ve not been curled up like a fucking Gremlin at this computer all day and night, that’s how,” he says, his tone a bit too smug for your liking. “now - go - to - bed,” he finishes, turning your desk chair so you face him, now looking sideways at your screens with a pout.

“But it works now…” you say, looking back up at him, all curled up on your chair, wrapped in your blanket. He watches you for a second, cocking an eyebrow under his balaclava.

“Nah the puppy eyes don’t work if they’re all bloodshot, you look terrifying…” he simply says with a straight forwardness only he could manage. Your mouth opens wide, you’re offended.

You are about to protest when he grips your upper-arm, pulling you forcefully against him. Suddenly, you’re on your legs again, still trying to hold onto your blanket. His mouth is pressing against your ear through his mask.

“I want the Gremlin in my bed, right now,” he orders, his voice now taking an authoritative tone. Your mouth closes and you swallow the lump in your throat, trying to pay no mind to the centre of your body coming to life with all kinds of sensations.

“On it, Sir,” you say with a nod as he lets you go. You trot to the bedroom he’s staying in without looking back. Your heart beating fast inside your chest.

His eyes move back to the top of your desk. He looks at the cans littered all over the surface, crumbs filling the blank spaces between them.

“Fuck’s sake…” he mumbles under his breath before going after you, yelling at you as quietly as he can manage while making sure you’ll hear his command. “And take a shower first!”

#cod mw22 #cod mwii #call of duty #ghost call of duty #ghost cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost x you #cod mwii imagine #simon riley imagine #call of duty imagine #cod mw2 fanfic #simon ghost riley fanfic #simon ghost riley imagine

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st4rbwrry · 4 years ago

Text

he can’t do it like i can. toji.

# cw: fem!reader, accidental voyeurism, heavy language, spanking, teasing, dilf!toji, black coded, hair pulling, oral, dominance.... just, read it. it’s nasty.

# mocha’s note: I had to do it. this man has me thinking of the wildest shit to a point where I’m crying bc he’s not real... I need help. he’s not even animated yet and he has me acting up—might start a series where I write about dilfs, we’ll see.

maybe you should go home. maybe this was stupid.

you didn't call to let him know you were swinging by. he could be sleep for all you knew, it was ten in the morning. but you couldn't, you knew that. you couldn't stand another day with these thoughts roaming your mind. even when you closed your eyes to escape, your thoughts consumed them and created scenarios that would have you thinking nonstop of him every day and night. you had to catch yourself a few times, resisting the urge to pleasure yourself because of the lewd acts spinning on a loop. you would feel too guilty anyways. he was megumi's father, it wasn't right. and since you did resist, you've been sexually frustrated for weeks now.

you finally stood in front of their house, squeezing your phone tightly in your right hand and shifting side to side. one thing lead to another and you found yourself driving here after paying your rent this morning. it was sickening how much it affected you. you hated it, but at the same time—you wondered what it would be like. maybe, just maybe you could have it if you tried. if not, you'd try your best to forget, but if you do—you hoped it wouldn't change your relationship with him. who were you kidding, of course it would.

you've been avoiding megumi and he noticed, hopelessly wondering what was wrong. questioning if he did something to hurt you. calling you to check on you. you wouldn't respond. you wouldn't give him an answer because you knew the words that would fly out of your mouth unexpectedly would scar him. finally, you gained the courage to ring the doorbell, hearing soft music blare from their speaker and the smell of brewed coffee. so they were awake.

the door opens, and the first man you're met with is toji, megumi's father. the man you quite literally couldn't get off your mind. you swallow, toji raising his brow at you as he sips his coffee from a black mug. he's dressed in nothing but gray sweatpants, his charcoal hair tousled around his sharp face. he smelt like pinewood, and it looked like he just got out of the shower not too long ago.

"good morning," toji rasps, the thickness of his voice making you clench your keys in your palm. you couldn't look him straight in the eye and he noticed. "uh, megumi isn't here. he's at practice."

"oh," you sigh, with relief actually. "o-okay. since you're here, i think i should talk to you."

"are you okay?" he frowns.

"no," you state bluntly, walking by him once he steps aside to let you in, taking off your shoes before walking into the living room. he blinks, following your trail with his eyes as you plop a seat on the sofa, fiddling with your fingers. toji locks the front door before approaching you, your eyes unintentionally staring at his crotch and seeing the outline of his dick, blushing and quickly diverting your attention back to your hands. toji is leaning against the kitchen island, his glare on you intense.

"this might sound creepy, and maybe borderline unacceptable, but i can't stop thinking about you. it's not a crazy obsession, but i literally keep having—inappropriate dreams about you and it's been ruining my daily life. i can't think straight, i can barely eat, i'm missing homework and forgetting to study for tests. i get it, our age difference is ridiculous, 20 years like—what even. i'm fucked up. just tell me i'm fucked up and reject me so i can go on with my life. please."

he was silent for a while, but eventually speaks up.

"that was a lot," toji puffs out his lips, setting his coffee down and crossing his buff arms. your eyes drift to them. "i don't know what to say, but i'm not surprised."

"why not?"

"because i'm sexy," toji laughs, trying to lighten your mood, and it works. you grin slowly and lower your head, your hands covering your face as you lay them on your knees, groaning. "look at me."

his voice drops an octave and your heart beats faster, lifting your head to see him crouching before you, his closeness making you jump. "yes?"

"you're not fucked up," toji trails off, licking his lips dauntingly slow. "you're just horny."

your eyes widen. "uh—"

"you don't love me, right?" you deny by shaking your head no. "so you're sexually attracted to me. what's the harm in that?"

you couldn't believe your ears. he sounded as if he didn't care. like you wanting to have to sex with him wasn't a problem, a big deal. "i—i mean, you're my friends' father. he would hate me if he found out."

"so don't tell him," he cuts you off and you drop your mouth in shock. "look, i've known you for an entire year. i'm a man, you think i wouldn't notice when a pretty girl is attracted to me?"

he found you attractive? this was a whirlwind. "you come over to study with megumi all the time, and i won't lie—i'm guilty of lewd thoughts of you as well. believe it or not, i think our dreams connect."

"you think about me—like that?"

"all the time," toji nearly grunts, licking his lips dangerously slow. you squeeze your thighs shut.

"fuck me," you sigh with shock, not believing your ears. he was really acting like this.

"i'm going to," is his response, and you swallow down an inhumane noise. toji gets serious, his dark eyebrows hunching over his slender eyes that studied your body, his hand coming to touch your waist, and your heart paces. "i need you to give me permission first."

"i'm nervous," you bite your lip.

"about?"

"i don't know, i'm just nervous. i wasn't expecting you to act like this. i thought you would curse me out and tell me to never come back or some shit."

"take my hand," toji patiently waits for the softness of your small palm to interlock with his. you swallow, taking it instantly as he pulled you to stand on your feet.

you trail behind him like a lost puppy, toji guiding you up the staircase and into his master bedroom, a room you've never stepped foot in. it was dark and modern, exactly like the rest of the house. the moment the two of you entered, toji gently presses you flat against the wall behind the door, his hands on your bare thighs while his fingers traced your skin, inching higher by each silent second. you couldn't get over his scent; a masculine cologne that summed up just what he was. dominant.

"tell me if i can touch you," he whispers, the bulge in his sweats brushing against your stomach. you were small compared to him, your face inches away from his naked chest. toji was a well-built man. abs, muscular arms, slender waist, and broad thighs. attractive in every way. it was hard not to fuck him.

his left forearm reaches over you to rest on the wall above your head, leaning down so you're eye to eye with him, smelling the mint on his breath as he says, "hurry pretty thing, i'm not a patient man."

you didn't get why you were being a pussy right now. you came over here for a reason. you expected this to happen. maybe you were still in a state of shock. the fact that he didn't react badly is what threw you off. he wanted you just as much as you craved for him. it was written all over his face, but yours more obviously. constantly rubbing your thighs together, biting your lips, checking him out—you revealed the infatuation first. he just fed off of it and was ready to reciprocate.

"touch me," you breathed, your dainty hands trailing to the band of his sweats, fingers halfway in, clawing at his lower back to pull him closer. definitely hard. that aroused you more; this godlike man aching for you. how fucking lucky you were.

toji smirked, grabbing the underside of your chin and turning your head slightly to suck at your neck, a soft moan immediately streaming out of you. that was your weak spot, a place that easily turned you on. you whine when his tongue eases over your flesh, replacing it with kisses, following with grunts.

"you smell nice," toji groans, moving across your neck onto the other side, sloppy kisses urging you to smooth your hand down his warm chest, boldly reaching your hand into the front of his sweats and wrapping it around his throbbing dick, a guttural moan falling from him as you gather the precum leaking from his tip and slowly jerk your hand over half him. shit, he was fucking big. no surprise there.

"shit," his hands are now on your shirt, pulling the thin tank top just above your breasts to reveal them, toji grinning at your braless chest. Pretty, he thinks. your head knocks back as his mouth clamps around one of your tits, circling your nipples with his tongue before sucking, holding them both in his palms and watching you above.

his clothed thigh was placed directly between your legs, biting your lip and grinding down to apply pressure to your clit, toji hazily watching you get off, never stopping his tongue flicking on your sensitive nipples. you were so horny that you rode his thigh to receive any sort of sexual high. he was fascinated with you, grinning as you whimper and pull your top over your head, your hand reaching into your cotton shorts to press your fingertips to your sluice clit.

"baby, chill," toji laughs, your cheeks flushing with sudden embarrassment although he enjoyed it.

"i'm so fucking horny," you giggle, toji smiling at you, moving his thigh and dragging your shorts down your legs, eyebrows raising at the sight. you weren't wearing any underwear. all he could see was the slickness covering the mound of your pussy and your inner thighs.

"naughty girl, would’ve liked to unwrap my gift," he teases, lifting your leg while lowering to his, eyes on your sopping clit, feeling somewhat appreciated that he got you like this. his breath fans over your aching clit and you can't help but desperately shift closer to his mouth, toji pulling his face back to tease you more. growing irritated, you lift your leg to rest it on his shoulder, pushing him closer with the point of your heel and tangling your fingers in his dark hair.

"persistent little thing, aren't you," toji's palm slaps your ass and you squeak, clenching and trembling. his wide hand grabs the underside of your thigh on his shoulder and mounts it to the wall so you're spread eagle. he could see everything now, and his silence almost made you want to shut your legs from insecurity. toji moaned breathlessly, his fever raging and he could no longer hold it back. he wanted you so fucking bad it burned and ached all over his body. "such a pretty pussy, baby. so fucking wet for me."

that made you laugh, your eyebrows soon furrowing and your jaw dropping the moment the entirety of his mouth clamp around you, toji closing his eyes and savoring the taste. the salacious sound of him licking and sucking made you tremble, tugging on his hair out of pleasure and rolling your hips. his face was completely buried between your legs, roughly rushing his tongue against your clit, slurping and swallowing. you were loud, so loud you were afraid that someone would hear you. his neighbors.

perhaps ms.robinson who lived next door and would knit on her porch, greeting you with caramel candy each time she saw you walk out the house. she knew toji wasn't married. what if she looked at you differently, or him. she definitely saw you this morning while walking her golden retriever. his prissy neighborhood had too many nosey people.

you bring one of your hands up to cover your mouth, trying to bury the sounds. toji didn't appreciate that. he stops almost instantly after noticing, retracting his heavy palm and slamming it hard on your ass. you mewl in pain, gasping as he grabbed your hand and entangled his fingers with yours, fully kneeling on both his knees before you.

"don't ever do that again," he growls, soothing his tongue over your clit while dangerously glaring at you. "now fuck my face like a good girl."

temptation stirs in the pit of your stomach and you can't help but obey, arching your back as you swivel your hips and ride the thick tongue roughly sweeping your sensitive clit. you feared you'd cum too quickly like this. he was relentless, spanking you and growling against your pussy sending shivers up your spine.

"Toji," you sob.

"mmm?" he responds as a taunt, smirking, widening his mouth and enclosing his lips around you, your thigh shaking in his hold. "fuck, that sounds so good coming from you."

he finally stands to his feet, and in a way you're relieved. swallowing, you watch as he drops his sweatpants completely, your eyes slowly trailing down his chest to see his dick resting on his abdomen, veiny and slightly curved so you knew it would hit all the godly spots within you. you were practically salivating at the mouth, toji gently grabbing your jaw before taking your lips in his, finally kissing you. slow but sloppy. delicate but erotic. both of you softly engulfing each other's sounds, tasting yourself as he slicks his tongue over your own, lips smacking wetly.

he was such a good kisser it drove you mad, turning you into a brat when he disconnected your lips. ready to protest, he instantly shuts you up by turning you around so your back is to him, your breasts pressed firmly against the cold wall as well as the side of your cheek. toji hisses with pain, so horny he could burst just looking at you. kneading at your flesh with enticement. you truly were beautiful.

he knew this from the start. the moment he laid eyes on you he couldn't contain his thoughts, trying to suppress the urge to act on them for the sake of his son. megumi. would he hate him if he found out? for some reason, toji didn't care. it's not like he ever had the balls to make a move to begin with. he always saw megumi attempt to, failing miserably when you'd laugh off a compliment he'd give you or anything cheesy like a kid who has a crush in eighth grade. toji always noticed you were never interested, because the only person on your mind was him.

"you know he has feelings for you," toji says, and before you get a chance to react, you could feel him deep inside you, your jaw dropping from the ache as you stretched to accommodate his size. you whimper, toji pulling out halfway to eye the slickness around his cock, cursing lowly before slipping forward until his chest fully touched your back.

"that's too bad," he hissed, completely sunken into you as you clench around him and greedily move your ass back, ready for him to go. he chuckles, his forearm coming around you, his hot hand resting on your stomach as he advances forward, clapping his sharp hips to your ass. you threw your head back, laying it on his shoulder with your eyes shut. choking on your cries. “you're already squeezing around my cock like a needy slut.”

you’re on your tiptoes, his hand coming up to wrap around your throat as he grunts and chokes you. you whine pathetically the harder he pounds, the sounds bouncing off the walls. anyone could hear. the mixture of flesh colliding and the two of your voices. it’s not that you ignored what he said about megumi, you just weren’t in the right mindset to come up with a response. you just wanted to be fucked, and that’s exactly what he did. he fucked you, hard. his pace was fast and the way he groped every inch of you roughly had you soaking wet. his deep voice in your ear was a dangerous combination. this man was something else.

“what would you do if he saw you like this?” toji continued his teasing talk, panting by your ear and slamming his dick harder. “would you push me away, baby? noo. you'd turn your face and finish taking it since you're so horny you can't bear to have your orgasm denied."

maybe, is what you think. his dirty talk was condescending, purposely humiliating you to see your reaction. he’s not surprised when you’re still silent about it, giving him nothing but a seductive glare and a dirty moan. it makes him hornier, shaking his head and digging his fingertips into your thigh to keep you close to him while he heatedly grounded his cock into you.

"he can't fuck you like i can. he could try, but you're too much of a woman for him to handle. you need someone like me. a man who knows how to fuck you, make you cum. the way your eyes are rolling back into your skull, and those filthy fucking moans of yours proves my point."

as if on cue, the two of you could hear keys clanking and the front door opening, your heart dropping as you hear a familiar voice downstairs.

"dad!" megumi yells, scanning the house for his father. toji laughs almost sinisterly, wrapping your hair around his fist and tugging your head back, never stopping his movements. it was hard for you to focus on megumi when he did that.

“i left my cleats, the coach was on my ass about it. i'm heading back as fast as i can." you could hear megumi sprint across the living room to frantically find his shoes. the two of you were just behind the open door of toji’s room. megumi could easily hear, if he closely observed, or come upstairs and see you through the crack. without both of your knowledge, megumi had on headphones, the music in his ears drowning out most of the surrounding sounds.

"baby, you're dripping. gonna ruin me i swear to—" toji groans, hitting his hips hard, the sound significantly rising and you're shocked that you don't build up the strength to stop him before megumi heard. he was right. you didn't care. you only wanted him. the only thing you cared about was your orgasm. eventually, his hand snakes in front of you to cover your mouth with his palm, still fucking you hard, your clit bumping up against the wall and your tongue drooling in his hand.

"i love your fucking pussy," he whispered in your ear, sucking at your neck and squeezing your waist tighter. "and your pretty ass voice. it's driving me insane."

the front door finally slams shut, your muffled voice finally having its freedom to scream again, gasping for air and reaching behind you to tug at his scalp as your orgasm approached. "fuck, toji. i'm cumming."

toji grunts, backing up slightly to bend you over and yank your waist back, viciously pounding to reach his own high. those desperate pleas and whines of yours were truly an addiction, a trigger. it doesn't take long until a wave washes over you, your head growing light and your legs nearly giving out as they trembled. toji could feel you clamping around him tighter, pulling him deeper, drowning his cock in your arousal. his head is thrown back as he mutters 'fuck' under his breath, stilling his movements and doing a few more pumps before slowly pulling out and releasing over your back, humming low in his throat with satisfaction.

toji swallows, gently pressing sweet kisses to your shoulder and cheek, the two of you heavily panting in the silent home. toji tucks a few strands of your hair behind your ear, pulling you up straight before carefully lifting you to carry you to his bathroom. although dazed, you were still aware of your surroundings, blinking up at him as he laid you down inside an empty claw-foot tub, kneeling before you and running the bath, the splashes of water making you fully gain consciousness.

he was so gentle with you it made your heart do something you've never felt before. seeing him pour bubbles into the tub and getting a fresh towel and rag for you was heartwarming. his kindness wasn't new, but this treatment was a first. it felt nice.

"i'm sorry, but we only have men soap in this household," he shakes the bottle.

"i ran to target this morning so there's dove bars in my car if you wanna get it for me," you say.

toji nods once, staring at your face for longer than you liked causing you to grow shy and lower your head to watch the water fill the tub up. he’ll always make you nervous no matter what. he softly grabs your chin, leaning forward to kiss you once more.

"you're mine," toji breathes. "remember that.”

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make-them-laugh · 2 years ago

Text

Code Secret Santa for @vexfulfolly !!!!

You asked for some no romo and some William, and I was pretty inspired! I really hope you enjoy this ♡

William sighed and stabbed at a cherry tomato in his side salad, resting his cheek on his fist. No one else was at his table, and when he glanced up, he could see his former group at their table, and he bit the inside of his cheek as he stabbed at his salad a few more times. He closed his eyes and sighed again. Maybe he could put his head down and rest before his next class at least.

William's eyes snapped open when he heard a cough from in front of him and he glared weakly when he saw Ulrich. He seemed nervous, drumming his fingers on his lunch tray, and William leaned on his crossed arms.

"What do you want?"

"Could I sit here? I want to talk to you if that's okay." Ulrich wouldn't meet his eyes and William narrowed his.

"Sure, whatever. Can't promise I'm much for conversation right now, though," William looked back at his lunch and continued attacking his salad.

Ulrich sat across from him and poked at his peas in silence. Just before William was about to ask what he wanted to say, Ulrich sighed.

"I'm sorry."

Of all the things William expected Ulrich to say, that was not one of them. He looked at Ulrich in confusion and Ulrich refused to look up at him.

"I should not have been so hard on you. For anything. I just… I really didn't like you because I hated that you liked Yumi so I didn't even try to give you a chance," Ulrich tapped his tray with his fork. "And then you were really helpful and I still didn't want you to join the group because I was still jealous. Which was… really selfish, given what was at stake."

William couldn't believe his ears.

"And then when you did join the group, none of us warned you about the Scyphozoa. That was our fault. We should have prepared you better, warned you better," Ulrich sighed. "What happened wasn't your fault and we've all been really unfair holding it against you when it's on us, not you."

"I… why are you telling me this?" William narrowed his eyes. "Did you draw the short straw on who had to try and make peace?"

"I'm telling you this because we're sorry. Me especially," Ulrich finally looked up to meet his eyes. "If you wanted to, we'd really like it if you joined the group again. No pressure if you're upset with us and don't want to. And… I thought it might mean more coming from me since I was the biggest jerk to you, so I volunteered to tell you."

William mulled it over and shrugged. "Do I have to answer right now?"

Ulrich shook his head. "No, take all the time you need, we just wanted to let you know so you can decide for yourself."

"Thank you. I… will think about it," William nodded. "And thank you. It… does mean a lot coming from you. And I'm sorry. I was also being kind of a jerk once I realized how mad you got when I flirted with Yumi."

Ulrich shrugged and smiled softly. "Water under the bridge if you're cool with it. I do want to let you know though that I apologized to Yumi too for getting so jealous over her and I think it would mean a lot if you did too. You don't have to. I just wanted to let you know that she might appreciate it."

"For sure, for sure," William nodded. He could feel tension draining from his shoulders as he turned back to his food. "I'll figure out what I want to say to her. Thanks for the heads up. Are you gonna stay here or go back and eat with them?"

"Which would you prefer?" Ulrich shrugged, not looking inclined to move until William told him to.

"If you don't mind staying, it would be nice to not eat alone," William finally finished his salad and moved onto his reward for that, the lasagna that he'd been so excited for since the menu for the week had been announced.

"Okay," Ulrich smiled and they ate their lunches quietly.

><><><

William hummed to himself as he brought his bass to one of the music room. Some time to just play something and not think sounded good to him.

Then he heard soft guitar coming from the music room, and he sighed. He opened the door and regretted it when he saw Odd sitting on the little stage with a guitar in his lap. They stared at each other for a moment and William hesitantly stepped in.

"You mind if I sit in here and play too?" William sat in one of the comfier chairs and watched Odd as Odd shook his head.

"No, feel free," Odd shrugged and looked away. "I'm trying to figure out this song, but something about it is just… not sounding right."

William put his bass on his lap and chuckled. "Play it for me, let me see if I can help."

Odd smiled up at him and started strumming. He played for a minute before sighing. "See? It's just… it's missing something."

"I see what you mean, but I don't think it's anything you're doing wrong," William rubbed his chin. "It sounds really good, Odd, but I think you need some kind of a supporting rhythm. A steady background sound so you can have fun with it and do what you need to do, but it kind of ties the whole thing together. Play it again, lemme see what I can do."

Odd nodded and started to play it again, and William followed along, playing the same few notes in a steady pattern. Odd lit up as they played together and placed his hand on the strings to stop their sound.

"That's it! That's what this needed!" Odd laughed. "Thank you so much, William!"

"No problem, Odd," William sighed and smiled. "So… the other day Ulrich came over and… he said you guys were all sorry? About kicking me out and treating me like that?"

Odd nodded and sighed. "Yeah. We all feel really bad. We weren't fair to you, and I'm sorry."

"Well, I don't quite want to join the group again just yet, but I'm working on it. And I want to try and be friends with you guys individually before I do that," William shrugged.

"That's fair," Odd smiled. "I'm usually in here on Tuesdays after lunch, during my free period. Wanna meet and just jam?"

William grinned and nodded. "That sounds good. I'll be here when I can. Wanna just play until next period?"

"Yeah! Maybe you can help me with the rest of the song!" Odd laughed.

"Love to," William nodded.

><><><

"Alright! For this next assignment, you'll be working in pairs!" The English teacher smiled. "I will assign your partner."

William glanced across the room at Yumi, and noticed her looking his way as well. Both quickly looked away.

"Let's see, Dunbar and… hmm, Dunbar and Ishiyama!"

William winced and grabbed his things, standing up to cross the room and sit next to Yumi as others shuffled to sit with their new partners. Both sat in an uncomfortable silence until William sighed.

"Can I apologize?" William picked at a piece of dry skin on his lip with his thumb.

Yumi looked at him in confusion. "For what? I should be apologizing to you."

"For the computer stuff, yeah, but Ulrich already took care of that," William shrugged. "I want to apologize for all the clingy jealous flirting stuff."

"Oh…" Yumi's eyes widened and she nodded slowly. "Okay."

William sighed. "I really liked you at first. A lot. But… I started going overboard when I realized how much it pissed off Ulrich, and that is…so many layers of messed up. It was really unfair to you. It… it became less about liking you and more about beating him. And that's gross. And awful. So I'm trying to step back and sort what all I've got going on inside before I even think about dating anyone. I'm not going to keep hitting on you, I'm not going to keep bickering with Ulrich, I'm just trying to take some space to regulate myself before I jump back into things."

Yumi nodded slowly and turned away, and he could see she was trying to blink back tears as she pulled her notes out.

"Thank you, William. I really needed to hear that, and I'm really glad you're going to try to be better," Yumi smiled at him weakly and he smiled back. "I'm really glad to hear you're taking some time for yourself. I am too. That much drama isn't good for you."

"Definitely not," William chuckled. "Hey, I glanced at the rubric and the assignment is on the strength of love in fiction, what if we did it on more of like… a platonic love? If we really wanted, we could do it on The Return Of The King, and kind of lead everything to Sam carrying Frodo up the volcano? Or we could go a little smaller scale and do The Wizard Of Oz and talk about Dorothy, The Scarecrow, The Tin Man, and The Cowardly Lion."

"Let's do Wizard Of Oz, just because I don't want to have to read the whole series in less than a week," Yumi chuckled. "I really like that idea though."

"Cool, I think they've got at least two copies in the library," William grinned. "We can check them out when we get class time to go down."

Yumi nodded and laughed as they got their things ready to move to the library.

><><><

William hummed to himself, listening to music through one ear bud before he heard two guys in his grade laughing. This wouldn't normally be cause for concern, but he recognized those laughs and who they belonged to. And those two laughing together never meant anything good.

He turned around and made his way to where the laughter was coming from, and he grimaced when he saw who his classmates were picking on.

Jeremie looked up at William, startled, and before William had consciously made a decision, he'd sped over to get between Jeremie and the bullies.

"Leave him alone," William glared, arm out to protect Jeremie.

"Or what, Dunbar?" One of them snickered and tried to reach past him to mess with Jeremie again and William slapped his hand away.

The other bully tried to punch William, and William dodged, returning the favor, but managing to land the hit.

The three didn't have long to trade blows before Jim dragged them apart and to the principal's office, Jeremie following behind as the other two told Jim that William had started it and they hadn't been doing anything.

They told the same story to the principal, and when Delmas looked at William with a raised brow, Jeremie cleared his throat.

"Principal Delmas, William saw these two trying to mess with me and was just standing between me and them. It wasn't until they reached out towards me that he pushed their hands away and they started the fight," Jeremie inched away from the other two as they protested, and Delmas silenced them with a wave of his hand.

"William, is this true? You were just defending Jeremie and yourself?"

William nodded and Delmas sighed. "In that case, you get a lunch detention tomorrow for fighting, but you two have them through the end of next week for starting the fight."

Delmas dismissed them and William walked Jeremie to his room quietly.

"Thank you, William," Jeremie sighed. "I appreciate you stepping in to help me."

"Of course," William smiled softly. "Those guys are jerks. You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, thanks to you," Jeremie nodded. "I'm sorry you got a lunch detention for it."

"Worth it, to wipe those smug looks off their faces," William snickered. "I gotta get to my room, but don't go getting into any more fights, okay?"

"I'll do my best," Jeremie laughed.

><><><

"Hey, Aelita!" William smiled as he ran into the pink haired girl in the record shop. "Wouldn't expect to see you in the heavy metal section."

Aelita grinned up at him and shrugged. "I feel like my mixes are getting a little… stale. I wanted to listen to something new to get some inspiration, some new ideas, you know? I'm looking for unique stuff."

"Okay, unique…" William flicked through the cds with a thoughtful scowl, pulling out a few as he carefully went through the stacks. "I would start with these 3 albums. Anything by these bands actually is good, but these are really good albums. These two are a little more genre typical, but still phenomenal all things considered."

Aelita took the discs with a grin. "I trust your judgment. Any others you think I'd like?"

"What's your budget?" William smirked.

She laughed and shrugged. "I think one more should be good."

William nodded to himself and pursed his lips before pulling out a final album. "This is one of my favorites. It's really fun and I think you'll really like it if you like the rest of this stuff."

"Awesome!" Aelita grinned. "I can't wait to listen, and if I have any questions, I know who I'm gonna come to with them."

"I'm always down for music questions," William smiled. "And let me know which of those bands you end up liking, some are still touring, and my mom loves to bring my friends when we go to concerts."

"I'll keep that in mind!" Aelita smiled. "Thank you!"

William smiled as she headed to the front and he continued perusing the albums. They did have some new stock, but he already had most of them. But there could always be a hidden gem.

><><><

William could see the others all huddled up in Odd and Ulrich's room, playing some kind of video game, and he hesitated in the doorway.

He's been talking with all of them more, and there was still hurt there, but he was ready to call them his friends again. He knocked gently on the doorframe and cleared his throat.

"Do, uh…do you guys mind if I join in?" William bit the inside of his cheek and Odd smiled, handing him a sixth controller.

"We hoped you might come by, we would love that." Odd grinned as he and Aelita made room for William to sit between them.

William smiled as he got comfortable and looked at what they were playing.

He'd really missed this.

#code ss22 #code Secret Santa 2022 #william dunbar #ulrich stern #odd della robbia #yumi ishiyama #jeremie belpois #aelita stones

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timextoxhajima · 4 years ago

Text

Boundary [Dana’s 700 Special]

Track: Fever - Enhypen / TiO - Zayn / Close - Nick Jonas, Tove Lo

➣ Member: my og bias owo

➣ Genre: idol! ju x stylist! [fem] reader

➣ Warnings: swear words and if you squint, some smut

➣ Word Count: i’m like 100% sure it’ll be as long as accelerate [i was wrong it’s nowhere near but whatever]

➣ A/N: Thank you for 700 followers. You are all nothing but amazing ♡

➣ Taglist: @taesty-wander-lust @tbzzhoe @suzy-rainbow

He’s going to be the absolute death of me.

The thought is loud in your head, and you were almost sure you would’ve blurted it out had the filming studio been empty. Breaking Dawn was blasting from the speakers behind the MV director, experimenting with some strange angles that you’ve never seen any other MV director try with the group before.

If you thought Reveal was dangerous, this might be worse.

“Okay! Let’s do that hook into the chorus first and we’ll see how that angle goes!”

“Breaking Dawn, I see-”

“Cut! Juyeon-” The director snorts while staring at the monitor from the camera. “That was great but um, we’ll need to rate the video if we release this one.”

Never mind. It is worse.

“Yah, Juyeon!”

“Ahh... seriously?”

“You already have enough screen time, why are you so greedy?!”

The members crowd around Juyeon and shove him playfully as the director films that part from the monitor, and brings his cellphone over to the group to see. You can barely hear the music from the phone, given how far you were standing from the filming area.

The group of 11 burst into loud yells and frustrated groans, with Younghoon and Chanhee giving their iconic ‘OoO’ faces to Juyeon. The main man chuckles, embarrassed, and shakes his head while waving it off.

“I didn’t intend to make it so suggestive, sorry!”

“It’s alright, that was great, really!” The director assures him. “It’s just that we can’t release that without rating the MV, and you guys don’t really have that kind of reputation yet so, we won’t do that for you guys now. But anyways, can we get a 10 minute break and we’ll pick up where we left off?”

The boys celebrate in unison, Eric immediately rushing off for the washroom, some members going to the staff to ask for their phones, others going for the monitor to check their progress and the remaining approaching their stylists for appearance maintenance.

So, when Juyeon approaches you with that sly-mixed-with-shame smile, you can’t help but to shake your head at him.

“Really? He asks you to go all out and you look like you want to eat the camera,” Pulling open your little kit, you set it on the table next to you. You pull out the comb and hairspray and start adjusting his hair again - all that dancing’s pushed some strands out of its rightful position.

“Aw, so you agree that I looked good enough?”

“What?” The pitch is higher than expected, but you hope your feigned annoyance camouflages the pinch of jealousy. “Please! The director said it’ll be rated!”

Juyeon laughs, standing with his feet a little more apart than natural for you to have easier access to his hair.

“Well, you’re the one who did my hair and makeup. If it’s anybody to blame, wouldn’t it be you?”

His words halt the sharp end of your comb in his hair, and you poke it into his scalp for good measure while puffing out your cheeks. He chuckles it off.

“Excuse you, sir, Cre.Ker gave me a color palette and a set of reference pics. Ever since they cracked the code with you with Reveal, they just won’t stop with this genre of style on you.”

“I mean... I definitely prefer my current style over what they did to me in Boy.”

The memory cooks up a bunch of images in your head, and you fail to stop the giggle that runs off your tongue when you return the comb to the kit.

“Aw, come on, that was cute,” Picking up a brow pencil, you fill in the tiny fade-out. “You were, what? 19? No reason for you to look as raunchy as you do now.”

“It’s a pity you only met me just before I become ‘raunchy’.”

“Why? I mean, ‘Juyeon’s not a good boy’ though. Raunchy’s closer to that than what you did pre-Reveal.”

“I meant it!” Juyeon widens his eyes and his brows shift up his forehead just as the tip of the brow pencil lifts off his skin. “I’m happy Cre.Ker’s letting us show what we want to.”

“And I’m happy for you too,” You finish up on his foundation where it’s starting to wear off. “But one day, you’re gonna cross a line and break some hearts.”

Juyeon smiles as you cap on all your equipment and close your kit. Resting one hand on your hip, you quickly give his hair one last poke before he resumes his normal standing position.

“What if I only want to break specific hearts though?”

A frown befalls your face and you forge an ugly look by crooking your lips. “What? Was that an attempt to flirt? Please stop,” Waving him off, you turn and pick up your kit, walking away on your heels as Juyeon tails you.

He’s just practising flirting on me at this point. Best friends and best friends for what? Get MY heart broken? PLEASE.

“Flirt with Kevin if you want, he’ll give you better advice,” You turn to the film area and sure enough, Kevin was busy twerking into the camera and Changmin’s just face palming himself.

“Oi Kevin! Stahb it!” You yell across the space and Changmin points to you, turning to yell at Kevin.

“Yah, even y/n’s telling you to stop!”

Chuckling, you turn into the dressing room as another hair stylist finishes with Sangyeon in the mirror.

“Hello sir, you look kinda tired today, are you resting well?”

“Don’t get me started. Schedule’s packed into June,” Sangyeon subtly shakes his head, but his stylist holds his cheeks and shifts his face back to face the mirror.

“Sangyeon, please face the mirror. It’s not my fault if your hair gets messed up again,” The hair stylist grins as he picks up the hairspray.

“Sorry,” Sangyeon blinks at him and purses his lips. Juyeon crashes into the two seater-sofa in the corner of the dressing room and groans tiresomely, resting his head on the top surface of the headrest.

“Well, you should get some rest before Kingdom kicks in,” You place the kit on the dressing table and sit down in the two-seater next to Juyeon. “It’s not going to be an easy fight, y’know.”

“Right! You used to be ATEEZ’s hairstylist!” Sangyeon’s eyes widen and you can see him struggling not to turn to you directly instead of trying to find you in the strangest angle of the reflection in the mirror.

“Yeah. Those guys are intense, and I mean intense! Six out of eight are known for performance skills and the other two... one produces 99% of their tracks and the other belts out notes even I can’t reach.”

“You sound like you were sent from KQ to intimidate us-” Sunwoo struts in and waves an annoying finger in your face.

“I’m not-” Swatting his finger away, Juyeon leans forward and pulls Sunwoo’s hand. “I’m just saying for good measure- it’s not going to be easy. Stray Kids is also going to be great competition, not to mention iKON and-”

“AhHH, we get it!” Sunwoo shushes you, swinging his hand with Juyeon’s.

“No matter the outcome, you all need to know that you guys were stellar last year. I was new then, but it was absolutely stunning to watch you guys work and put so much effort into your performances.”

“Oh my God, yeah, you could not shut up about the Danger performance,” Sangyeon cooes, letting his stylist finally finishes and shifts to pack the hair equipment.

“I’ll bet it’s cause your best friend over here got the most screen time,” Sunwoo perks up a mischievous brow and smirks at you.

Juyeon’s eyes widen and stares at the youngest, “I didn’t get the most screen time.”

“If not you then who?” Sangyeon butts in as he stands.

“Uh... Changmin?”

Sunwoo and Sangyeon go quiet.

“Yah, you had a good amount of screen time too!” Sangyeon turns and blurts out at Sunwoo, playfully shoving him.

“Y’all are being loud in here,” Kevin’s head pops out from beyond the door frame, one of his stylists tagging behind him and struggling to pat down his clothes.

“No, tell me if Sunwoo had more screentime than Changmin in Danger from last year,” Sangyeon wraps an arm around Sunwoo and slowly walks him out.

“What? I don’t know, Changmin had the opening and the dance break...”

Sangyeon’s hairstylist follows closely, and by instinct, he shuts the door behind him, leaving you with Juyeon in the dressing room. It’s humid, from all the lights turned on in the room, and the leather seat wasn’t the most comfortable thing to sit on.

Turning to Juyeon, his eyes are gently shut, and frankly, he looked like he was about to fall asleep. The backrest of the sofa sinks when you lean back, mimicking his position.

“You have like four minutes left so don’t even think of falling asleep.”

“I’m not sleeping,” He offers a tiny smile on his lips, eyes still shut.

“Sure, you’re not.”

“Wake me up when the director needs me.”

“You wish,” The leather under your legs squeak when you push yourself off, but he sticks out an arm at your stomach and pushes you back down. Judging by the miniscule smirk on his face, he’s just messing with you. “What do you think you’re doing? I have a job to do and you have a music video to film.”

He remains quiet. Someone shouts at Eric outside.

“You’re being fucking weird today, sir,” You lift a hand and grab his arm to move it away, but he swiftly wraps his fingers around your wrist and yanks you forward instead.

Using your palms to keep the distance between your faces, you’re hovering above him now, breath on his upper lip. The sweat’s begun to collect in the lines of your palms, stuck to the arm rest by his side and the cushion he’s leaning on.

Your vision immediately darts to his face upon the bold move, and he’s got that slight smile prancing on his lips when he’s thinking of a joke or something funny and doesn’t want to say it. It’s been a good year of being Juyeon’s best friend (apart from the members), so you’ve definitely grown to know how to read him by his actions.

You sigh, rolling your eyes and removing your legs from next to his thighs.

“Juyeon-”

And then he cuts you off by holding you in position with his arm around his waist, challenging your knees to hold you up - because if they buckled, you’ll land right on top of him.

“What the Hell do you think you’re doing?”

Knock knock

“y/n, are you done with Juyeon’s hair? Filming’s resuming!”

There’s an awkward tension between you and Juyeon now, with his eyes wide open and staring into yours, arm still around your waist. But having his nose just inches away from yours and his breath breathing down on your philtrum feels so surreal. It feels like it’s a dream that you’ve failed to pull yourself out from.

He parts his lips, then purses them, and sighs through his nose.

“Yeah, she’s done! I’ll be out in like, two seconds!”

Your gaze finds his and you’re panicking when he’s moving again. Within two seconds, you’re flat on your back on the length of the couch - and this time, he’s holding himself above you.

“What the- I-”

“We’ll continue this later back at the company, I promise,” Then he rounds your cheek and presses a kiss into your cheekbone instead.

He pulls back, offering you his kind smile and a ruffle into your hair for good measure. Nothing in your body is working when you hear him shuffle for the door, and it clicks shut behind him, with Breaking Dawn already blasting in the filming space.

Sucking in a deep breath, you don’t realise how hard your heart is thumping in your head until you hear your own shaky exhale. You don’t know where to look, you can still feel his grip on your waist and his breath on your upper lip, and everything’s just a mess right now.

What the Hell just happened?

“Eric - Dior Shirt Size M...” You mumble under your breath, fingers gripping the pen to the clipboard so hard, your writing would probably leave a mark in the sheet under.

“I think this is the last luggage!” Younghoon’s stylist drags the black case in, lining it up with the last unopened one. “Need help?”

“Yeah, just open the luggage for me and separate Sangyeon’s clothes from Jacob’s, but otherwise I can handle it on my own.”

She nods, laying it down and unzipping it for the clothes to spew out. “How’s working here? It’s been over a year, right?”

“Mhm,” You glance at her, obviously tired. “It’s alright, but thanks to your advice since last year, I don’t think it could’ve been better.”

With a kind smile, she looks up at you, placing Sangyeon’s pants over his stack. “You’re experienced from ATEEZ, so it wouldn’t have been that hard anyway.”

She stands, resting her hands on her hips as you walk over, squatting to check Sangyeon and Jacob’s clothes.

“So... what’s going on with you and Juyeon?”

I’d like to know too.

“Huh?” You look up at her, head tilted to the side with a sneaky cocked brow. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, please- All the stylists here know you and Juyeon are like- hanky panky nowadays. Pretty sure the boys know too, or at least have some idea.”

A cackle runs your throat dry as you graduate your attention to Jacob’s clothes. “Is that what they’re calling it? ‘Hanky-panky’? Cute.”

“Do you know why they’re still in a meeting this late?”

“No, why would I bother? As long as I don’t lose my job, it’s none of my concern.”

“They’re in meeting to be informed that their dating ban has been lifted.”

Your grip around the pen tightens, but halts abruptly.

“Ah...” She sighs, contemplated with herself. “Cat got your tongue? Or should I say... Juyeon got your-”

Interrupted by the practise room door being pushed open, both of your attentions immediately flit to the new commotion.

“Oh, Juyeon! Meeting’s over?”

“Yeah,” He turns and closes the door behind him. His hair was still waxed up from the day’s schedule, makeup still on but fading. Clothes snug around his shoulders with his belt tight around his hips. Those stupid jeans never did you any good since day 1. “Sangyeon said he left a ring in one of the luggages so he sent me to come get it while he counsels Kevin for twerking.”

“y/n’s just going through Sangyeon’s wardrobe, so she might find something,” Your colleague’s begun to take small, insignificant steps towards the door, and your anxiety begins to increase with every inch she places between the two of you.

“Which is why I’m here,” He stuffs his hands into his back pockets.

“Right, right,” Now, she’s already got her hand on the door knob, glancing past him and at you with wide, glistening eyes. “I gotta go check your wardrobe for tomorrow so... I’mma go now, and uh... security comes by around 12am. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“What-” You blurt out, receiving a sharp, surprised look from Juyeon.

“Bye! Bye Juyeon!”

“Bye,” He waves.

“No, wait-”

And so, the door clicks shut behind her, and her shadow behind the translucent material disappears down the corridor.

The whir of the air-conditioner in the practice room fills all the awkward openings in the room, but all you can hear is the rapid thunk of your heart in your brain - as if that was even possible.

Thunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunk

“About earlier today-”

“Give me a moment while I look for Sangyeon’s ring. What does it look like?” Standing up too fast, your vision goes white and a second of dizziness throws you off your balance.

So, of course, Juyeon rushes over and holds you by your waist before your ankles or knees give way. The incessant blinking makes you wish you could actually pass out right now, because your weight’s in his arms and you can’t bring yourself to look him in the eye.

“Iron deficiency much?” The corner of his lips curl up into his cheek before releasing you. “Do you need to sit down?”

Clearing your throat, you turn away first. “No, I-”

“Good, because I have some points to make and you’re gonna stop running away from them like you’re doing now.”

The change in tone runs chills down your spine and goosebumps erupt all over your skin - thank god you were wearing a blazer, safe from his observation.

“How have you tolerated it so much?” He folds his arms across his chest, tilting his head innocently but his eyes say otherwise. It’s always his eyes that tell a whole different story from the person he’s known to be.

“Y’know, being around me but you’re so calm and collected and I just...” He shakes his head, and to your dismay, takes a step forward - which drives you backwards. “How?”

His voice is too sing-songy. It’s too calm and collected for you because you’re about to barf up your dinner, which was a good 4 hours ago now. There’s nothing left in your stomach to barf up.

He takes another intimidating step and you wince at your inability to look him in the eye.

Another step back.

“Like, I know we’re friends but my God-” Shaking his head, he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip.

Another step forward. Another backward.

“It’s upsetting that I can look ‘raunchy’ and it doesn’t seem to do anything to you... But seeing you the way you are every other day makes me want to- just-”

Another step forward.

One more one back.

And your breath halts.

Your back hits the wall, the rear of your skull lined with the pillar.

Oh, no.

Gritting your teeth so tight, your jaw starts to ache and your temples are throbbing.

“I’m not seeing things, right?” A flicker of curiosity sparkles in his eyes when you muster up the courage to look at him - only to regret it instantly. “It’s not in my head that you feel the same way I do, right?”

“I... Don’t know what you’re talking about- You’re an idol... and I’m- I’m just your stylist and I-”

“‘Just my stylist’?” The comment forces his brows into a slight frown, before he lifts his hand and covers the bottom half of his face with his palm. “Rethink what you just said.”

Sucking in a deep breath, your chest wells with a horrid mix of desire and self-discipline. Those two don’t go well together.

“We can talk about this some other day,” You choose to say, dragging your body along the pillar in a bid to shift out from the wall-Juyeon sandwich like a fool. He lifts his arm and presses his palm into the pillar behind you, caging your poor, poor soul in this fateful corner of his stupid practice room.

“Juyeon, we need... boundaries in this industry. One scandal and it’ll destroy your career.”

“Boundaries?” He buckles his elbows, shrinking the gap between your noses. “Boundaries are for idols who still have a dating ban.”

Breathing down your nose, he’s too close for comfort. You can smell his cologne, the scent of his hair wax and see the bumps on his cheek under the faint layer of makeup. You don’t realise you’re trembling until he tilts his head ever so slightly, free hand reaching up to your chin to steady your face.

“Stop running from me,” Shaking his head painstakingly subtly, he whispers into your lips. “You were mine from the start and you know that.”

The adrenaline rush through your nerves sets off fireworks all over you when he slots his body against yours, lips fitted with yours like puzzle pieces; against the wall, with his palms on your cheeks. There was no care or consideration with how much strength he was channeling into this kiss - it feels so pent-up, so frustrated. Without warning, your body resigns as you circle your arms around his shoulders.

Gripping the rim of his collar in your hands, his hands drop to your waist and holds you closer, if it were even possible. A million thoughts race through your head - and at the same time, none. This moment was something you didn’t even know you needed.

Juyeon’s hands roam the small of your back as he keeps you against the wall, relaxing into the kiss and sighing into it instead.

This bliss comes in the form of him. Him who provides you all the sinful wants deep down inside you.

But this bliss doesn’t last, for the practice room door swings open violently and tears Juyeon off you.

“I told you to find my ring, not hook up with your crush!”

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