#god this has been sitting as a WIP for so long
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guys with a thousand year long conflict
#my art#utmv#dream sans#nightmare sans#dreamtale twins#hexverse#hex!nightmare#hex!dream#she/it for lua and they/them for soleil pleaseeee <3#god this has been sitting as a WIP for so long
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trick or treat *blinks at you*
👁️
you flipped a treat !!
His question is somewhat answered when the emeralds start rising again, this time taking the hedgehog’s unconscious body with them. The fox squeaked in alarm as his idol’s arm started to slip out of his grip. Tails stumbled onto his feet to try and match the height, but the emeralds kept rising until the little cub’s paw could no longer reach his hero's arm. “Please–” The kit sobbed, but didn’t do much to fight against the emeralds, “Please don’t— please don’t take him..”
#baby meets a god for the first time. has a meltdown#this has been sitting in my wips for so long i need to finish it#sonic the hedgehog#miles tails prower#sth#tails the fox#sonic#unbreakable bond#myyanswers#sonic and tails#0vergrowngraveyard#tricks and treats
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That Green Monster (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)
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Author Masterlist
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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader.
Summary: Your relationship with Spencer is fresh new, and some of his insecurities arise when someone new joins the team, making him react in a wrong way to you.
Word Count: 4.8k
Warnings: Fluff and Angst. And then fluff at the end (I don't even understand myself). Spencer lashes out. Spencer is insecure. Reader is mad. Both are so madly in love, though.
A/N: This one has been sitting as a WIP for way too long, so I decided to finish it today!
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A shot in the neck.
That's what it took for you and Spencer to - finally - get together. To confess you loved each other.
Everything happened while working a case in Texas. You had cornered a suspect who was hiding in a restaurant. You wanted to open a communication line with him, but out of nowhere, shots got fired. And one of them ended in your neck.
What happened next was a blur to everyone, especially to Spencer. He barely remembers Morgan pulling him back so that the paramedics could check on you.
The ambulance ride to the hospital and the hours of waiting for news were excruciating.
In Spencer's brain, only the thought that he might lose you forever without coming clean about his feelings for you.
You have been in a similar situation before, but this time, he thought you wouldn't make it.
It would be the loss of a friend and the loss of the love of his life.
If Spencer has to be honest, he realized he loved you after your first month working at the BAU. And with every passing day, the feeling only got stronger. But he was scared of saying anything, afraid of changing - or losing - the strong bond you guys already had.
So, he kept it to himself for years. For six years, to be exact.
But what he didn't know was you had fallen for him, too.
And how could you not? You both went through so many things over the years: Spencer's kidnapping, his Dilaudid problem, your family issues, the injuries, bad cases, unsubs attacks, hospital visits, and so on. With every bump in the way, you both were each other rock. Always together, no matter what.
The team affectionately called you Mulder and Scully, but in reverse roles, of course.
But even if, at some point, both of you realized what you had was much more than a friendship, neither of you did something about it.
Until you got shot in the neck.
In that uncomfortable waiting room chair, Spencer prayed, to whatever or whoever could listen, for a chance to make things right.
So when you woke up in your hospital bed hours later, the first thing you saw was Spencer's face.
He was by your side as always. But this time, he had something to tell you. Spencer didn't have the chance, though, because before he could say anything, three words blurted out from your lips: 'I love you.'
Between happy tears, you both spent hours talking and coming to the conclusion you were both idiots in love.
You didn't say anything to the team, but you all knew they knew, so it became unspoken knowledge after you were released from the hospital.
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With you home due to your neck injury and JJ on maternity leave, Hotch decided that some help would be better than putting more pressure on the remaining team members.
That's why he borrowed an agent from Sex Crimes.
Spencer had already told you that there was a new agent, but he hadn't developed this information in detail.
You knew him on your first day back, a month after you got shot.
Once you exited the elevator on the sixth, you headed through the bullpen glass doors. When you pushed them open, you didn't realize that someone was going in the opposite direction, and you almost hit the guy in the face with one of the doors.
"Oh, my God. I'm sorry!" you exclaimed when you realized what almost happened.
The man shook his head in dismissal. "No, no. Don't be. Nothing happened."
"But I almost hit you with a glass door," you pointed. The guy didn't seem phased by it, though.
"I'm okay, really," he insisted, flashing you a smile. You hadn't picked much of his appearance, to be honest, but the guy was easy on the eyes. Another thing that caught your attention was you had never seen him before.
"Do I know you?" You asked with curiosity.
"I don't think so. I'm Agent Dodds. Jake Dodds," he introduced himself, extending his hand. You've heard that last name before. You told him yours, shaking his hand.
"Really? You are a BAU member, right? I'm the backup agent Hotchner brought to the team," he explained, and then it clicked. He was the new guy.
Jake Dodds was young, fresh and motivated. After his first year in Sex Crimes, he already has a lot of accomplishments to show off. And, of course, he was doing his best to impress Hotch and the team.
Coming to the office bright and early and being the last to leave gave Dodds a chance to engage with the cases and the team members - you included. Due to your neck injury, you were mostly on desk duty, so you had enough time to help Jake with paperwork and all the questions he might have about past cases. And Dodds had many.
In the weeks that followed, he has spent a lot of time by your side, working with you when the team wasn't out of town.
It was part of your nature to be forthcoming and willing to teach others. And having worked at the BAU for almost six years, you felt like you could teach one thing or two.
Spencer loves that from you; it's one of the many things that made him fall in love with you. But for some reason, Jake's closeness to you started to bother him.
Spencer knew it was irrational and without foundation. Still, in the past weeks since Dodds joined, with each laugh from you when Jake cracked a joke, every time you sat together at the office a little too close, or every day you decided to have lunch with Jake rather than him, Spencer's jealousy only got stronger. It didn't help the team's comments about you and Jake.
'Dodds looks hooked by her'; 'The newbie definitely is flirting with her'; 'Really handsome view she has over there.'
Spencer could only bite his tongue. He could easily assume that the team was only messing with the situation, but the green monster growing inside didn't let him think clearly.
Spencer knew you, and you would never do something to hurt him, so why did he feel that uneasiness inside of him?
Maybe the fact you were in the early stages of your relationship made Spencer insecure. It was all new and fresh; he was happy with you, but although you both have known each other for years, he was inexperienced in the love department. Being friends was one thing, but being a couple was different.
So instead of talking to you—which he knew was the right thing to do—Spencer did what he usually does when he feels overwhelmed: he shuts people out.
And you did notice, of course.
Something was troubling him, you knew that, but every time you brought up the topic, he dodged it. You didn't look much into it at first because you knew Spencer would talk to you eventually when he felt ready. Or you assumed he would.
But the days went by, and Spencer still hadn't told you why he had been so distant, so you decided to confront him.
You both were watching a movie at your place, but you noticed Spencer wasn't paying attention to the TV. After an internal debate about whether it was a good idea to bring this up, you tested the waters.
"Spencer, are you okay?" you asked him, genuine concern lacing your voice.
The question hung in the air enough to make you think he might not hear you.
"Spencer?" you tried again, swearing you heard him huff even if he tried to be subtle.
"I'm okay, just tired," he hastened to dismiss, not looking at you.
So he heard you, but you had to call his name again to get an answer. Something is definitely wrong.
Contemplating your options, you chose to end the 'patiently wait until he comes to you' strategy. You were his girlfriend now. Why he couldn't trust you enough to tell you what's going on?
"Okay. This bullshit needs to stop now. You have been weird for too many days to tell me now you are okay and just tired. I know something happened and need you to tell me what it is," you demanded.
Shifting uncomfortably in his spot, Spencer had an inner debate about coming clean to you. He didn't want to admit how much Jake's closeness to you was bothering him. Spencer didn't want you to think about him as the possessive and clingy boyfriend who can't see his girlfriend near other guys.
He wasn't like that, right?
"You are imagining things. I'm perfectly fine," Spencer deadpanned, eyes returning to the TV.
Your mouth went slack. Were you imagining things? Was he thinking you were stupid?
"So I'm imagining things, uh? It's not you being defensive right now, isn't it?"
"No." He gave you a curt answer that meant precisely the opposite of what he was implying.
You wanted to give him a chance to open with you, but Spencer wasn't engaging.
It seemed easier to talk about what was happening to each other when you were only friends. Why is it so hard now you are a couple? You couldn't understand, and your patience was running short.
"Are you fucking kidding me right now?" you called him out in frustration. "Who do you think I am? A random person who hasn't known you for fucking six years?"
Spencer internally flinched. He saw the confusion and anger mixed in your eyes, and he felt the urge to hug you tight, telling you he was being an irrational jealous asshole. But Spencer didn't bring himself to do it, and instead, he tried to play cool and detached.
"I already told you. Everything is wonderful, at least for me. Not for you?" Spencer asked casually.
You narrowed your eyes at him. He looked calm and collected, but you could feel he was anything but.
"Okay. I'll bite the bullet. So the distance between us in the past weeks doesn't bother you as it bothers me," you concluded.
Spencer let out a bitter chuckle.
"Funny you're bothered by that. You have seemed very busy in the past weeks," Spencer mumbled.
A slip that didn't go unnoticed by you.
"Very busy?" you echoed his words. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Spencer shrugged, unamused.
"Exactly what it is. You have been very busy at the BAU lately. I only have been giving you space."
You squinted your eyes, raking your brain to understand Spencer's meaning. For your mandatory desk duty, you have spent more time in the office than in the field, but besides that, what has been different?
And then it clicked on you. Jake Dodds.
Sure, you've been very willing to teach him things and help him with his work, but that only explains Spencer's annoyance if there is another reason.
"Is this about Dodds? Are you jealous of Jake?" you questioned in disbelief.
Spencer's face paled. You had caught him.
After your deduction, he should have told the truth, but Spencer is stubborn enough not to give in, especially if that meant recognizing something he felt embarrassed of.
"W- what?! No! Where did you get that? I'm not jealous or remotely close to that," Spencer rebutted defensively.
Oh, he was definitively jealous. At the realization, you let out a giggle, eyes softening at your boyfriend. For you, there is no guy he should be worried about- not for Jake or any other person. Your heart is his, and you know there is nobody in this world you want to be with more than Spencer.
But Spencer's face deflated. You were laughing at him, and he felt even worse.
"Spencer, there is no reason for you to be -"
You couldn't even finish your sentence when Spencer cut you off, standing from the couch.
"I already told you! Am I not speaking English to you?"
His face was red, but not by embarrassment anymore. Now, it was a kind of contained rage.
Stunned by his reaction, it took you a few seconds to say anything.
"I - I'm just trying to understand what's going on. Don't be rude," you chimed.
Spencer let out a humorless chuckle.
"Rude, did you say? Am I rude because I disagree with you? Is that? Or am I rude because this doesn't have to do with you?"
"Excuse me? When did this turn into a problem related to me?"
You stood to mirror his stature so as not to look vulnerable.
"I don't know, you tell me. Are you disappointed because not everything or anyone in this world is revolving around you?"
Spencer's voice was cold and sarcastic, something you had seen in him before but never directed toward you. He was outrightly saying you were self-centered.
"Spencer -" you tried to warn him to back off, but Spencer didn't stop.
"No. I get it. You like the attention. But, I'm sorry, I'm not in the mood to indulge your childish self. Maybe the young and funny Agent Dodds could help you with that. But not me."
A dead silence settled in the room. If a needle had fallen on the floor, it would have made a noticeable noise.
You couldn't believe that man was your boyfriend—the man who was telling you such hurtful words.
Spencer saw how your features morphed from confused to hurt and then to offense, and with a twist in his guts, he knew he had fucked up.
"Are you done?"
Your tone was flat and collected, even if, on the inside, there was a storm of feelings. Spencer was deflated and looking for the right words to apologize.
"Hey, look, I'm -"
"I asked if you were done." You questioned harshly this time, and Spencer only gave you a shy nod.
"Okay, now get out!"
Your command was only followed by your actions as you walked to your entrance to open the door.
With horror, Spencer tried to sputter words to change your mind.
"I'm sorry. I - I didn't - Please, don't do this."
"I said, get out! I don't want you here!"
You emphasized your words, gesturing to the open door.
"Baby, I wasn't - I didn't mean what-" Spencer tried again, but you had made up your mind and didn't want to hear him.
"I don't fucking care! You had your time to explain yourself, and I don't want to hear anything else from you."
Spencer knew that nothing he could say at that moment would help his cause, so like a dog with the tail between his legs, he slowly made the walk of shame towards your door, but not before looking at you and begging for forgiveness with his eyes. It was a useless thing because you didn't even look at him back. Once he was out of your sight, you slammed the door shut, and your facade crumbled.
Tears started to fall freely, in a combination of pain and frustration.
It's needless to say, you couldn't sleep that night.
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Spencer looked distracted and visibly sad.
Morgan knew something had happened to him, even if the man had denied the fact for the past two days. And Morgan was sure it was something related to you. It looked like Spencer would combust from guilt whenever his eyes landed on you. Morgan's suspicion turned to be right the moment you caught Spencer's gaze, and you purposely averted it.
"Okay, pretty boy, what did you do?" Morgan questioned Spencer when he caught him pouring coffee in the kitchenette.
"What? Me? Nothing!" Spencer defended himself, but the crack in his voice did nothing to help his cause.
"So she's not talking to you just because?"
Spencer shrugged, leaving the pot over the counter.
Was he being so obvious? If Spencer wanted to maintain the facade that 'nothing is wrong here,' he was failing miserably.
Morgan scoffed, grabbing a mug to pour some coffee for himself.
"Come on, Reid. There must be something. Since yesterday morning, you look like a kicked puppy, and she seems visibly upset, and you're both always attached to the hip."
Dangerous territory, Spencer thought. But at this point, his regret was more powerful than keeping your relationship private.
"She is mad at me," the man recognized. It was a 'vague' recognition, but it was something.
Morgan seemed not surprised, though.
"No shit, Sherlock. The question is why, pretty boy," Derek prodded.
Spencer sighed deeply. How could he express what really happened without telling the whole truth?
Morgan saw the struggle in Spencer's eyes.
"I know you are both hurting by whatever happened. Maybe talking would help you clear your head and think about how to fix it."
Spencer took in Morgan's words. Some advice could help, he decided.
"We fought. I mean, we argued two nights ago, and she kicked me out. And now she is not talking to me, and I don't- I want to apologize, but I don't know how."
Spencer winced, just remembering your fight.
Derek looked at him incredulously.
"She kicked you out? What in the world did you do so she reacted like that?"
The actual question was 'what he said' because, strictly speaking, he didn't do anything besides let his mouth run on its own accord.
He regretted every word he said to you the second they left his mouth, but the damage was done, and you were fed up enough to listen to his apologies, so you yelled at him to let you alone. He didn't blame you. But he was feeling miserable, and it showed.
Spencer told Morgan exactly what happened—word by word.
"Jesus, Reid. I didn't peg you like the jealous type," Morgan acknowledged. Spencer shook his head.
"It's not like that. I mean, I know she loves me..."
"But?"
Spencer sighed. "What if - what if she realizes there are better men than me? That I am not enough for a romantic relationship?"
Morgan's eyebrows knit together. Spencer's face was pure panic, only thinking about the possibility.
"And Dodds would be better than you? You know he's like a kid, right?" Morgan pointed.
"Yeah. A young man with a lot of confidence that makes her smile and has her undivided attention. He's smart and qualified for this job like any of us. I'm not better than him. And I can perfectly be disposable in comparison."
That was the thing. Spencer felt insecure about you finding someone better than him.
Morgan looked at him empathetically.
"Man, I think you are looking too much into it. I don't think you should feel threatened in your relationship with her. And I guess she thinks the same and feels hurt for you thinking that."
Spencer nodded. "That's why I know I fucked up. I hurt her for my insecurities. It's all my fault," he lamented.
"You need to talk to her," Morgan advised, and Spencer whined.
"How? She hasn't spared me a glance in two days!"
"You're a genius, Spencer. And above all, how long have you known her? Five years? Think of something."
"Five years, eleven months, three weeks, and four days," Spencer corrected without hesitation.
"That's exactly what I'm talking about. You'll figure it out."
Spencer sighed deeply as Morgan patted his shoulder before leaving the kitchenette. Derek was right; they should talk. Spencer just had to figure out how to make that happen.
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That night you were sulking at your apartment, laying on the couch and watching some crap on the TV, when three knocks alerted you.
You weren't expecting anyone, and you didn't think Spencer could be outside your door. You were clear in telling him you didn't want to talk to him when he cornered you in the breaking room this afternoon.
But if you knew something about Spencer Reid, it was that he could be stubborn as fuck. So when you looked by the peephole and saw him standing there, you only closed your eyes and sighed.
Spencer knocked again. "I know you are there. And I know you don't want to talk to me. But please, let me do the talk. Please, at least listen to the things I need to say."
"You already said enough," you spat from your spot on the other side of the door. Spencer gulped hard. He said enough hurtful things to you to kick his ass, but he was determined to gain your forgiveness somehow.
"I can't stress enough how sorry I am for that. But I need you to know that I didn't mean any of it." Spencer paused, and when he didn't hear you say anything, he continued. "I'm an asshole, and I would understand if you want to break up and never see me again. I mean, well - it - it would be kind of difficult not to see each other because we work together, but you know what I mean. Or maybe not, I don't know. Jesus, what the fuck am I saying?" Spencer chastised himself, trying to control his nerves.
You could hear him struggling, so you decided to spare him a panic attack in the middle of the hallway. You opened your door and saw him still trying to sputter what he wanted to say.
"If this is your way to apologize, you are doing a terrible job." Your voice was not angry but tired. Because if he had had two tortuous days of you not talking to him, you haven't done it any better, overthinking about your fight over and over again.
Spencer's glassy, pleading eyes found yours.
"I know. It seems it's another thing I suck at," he admitted fidgeting with his hands. "Would you, uh. Would you let me try again? Apologize. That is."
It's true you were still mad with him, but you really wanted to understand why he reacted the way he did that night and said all the things he said. You know him too well to ignore that something else beyond mere jealousy clearly triggered his outburst.
Without saying a word, you gestured for him to get into the apartment. Spencer was quick to comply before you changed your mind.
You both took seats on opposite sides of the couch, eyes overly interested in your living room rug. After some minutes of silence and knowing he needed to say something, Spencer cleared his throat.
"I guess I'm going to start with the beginning," he prefaced, keeping his hands in his lap as you turned to contemplate him in silence. "Uh - you know it took me time to come clean with my feelings for you. A lot of time, almost six years," he chuckled nervously. You nodded, not wanting to interrupt him, fearing to get him more anxious.
"The thing is- I have been in love with you for so long and creating scenarios of us in my mind that - that now I know it is real, I don't - It's still difficult to grasp the idea we are together, you know?"
As Spencer raked his hair, collecting his thoughts, you couldn't help but remember all the things you both went through until you decided to tell the truth to each other. Six years is a long time. But you wanted to believe it has been worth it.
"I'm not used to a life where I get to be happy; when I think I am, things crush down, and I lose everything. It's a rule: good things don't last in my life."
You know how difficult it has been for Spencer to accept that he is not cursed or anything like that—a very difficult task, knowing the things he has been through.
"So my mind began to be haunted by the idea that it was a matter of time before you realized you could do better than me, and I'm only worth it as a friend."
His words made you recall the times you both discussed your love life in the past and all the doubts weighing on Spencer's shoulders. After those conversations, you always swore to make him feel loved and appreciated.
"And then you came back to work, and Dodds was there. I created this whole scenario, telling myself that you would be better with someone like him."
Spencer paused to gauge your reaction. You were openly listening to him, taking in every word.
"I know it's unfair to you. I - I betrayed your trust by mulling those ideas and saying all those hurtful things I truly don't believe. I'm so sorry; I don't have a defense other than my incompetence in dealing with my insecurities," Spencer concluded, letting a deep sigh escape from his lips and averting your gaze. He looked embarrassed and vulnerable, and it hurts you to acknowledge how small he feels about himself. You reached your hand tentatively, touching his forearm, and Spencer's eyes drifted back to you.
"Spencer, you have to know there is no one in this world who I love so deeply as I love you. No man could compare to you. No matter how young or confident or whatever difference you can name. You are the most thorough, caring, and selfless person I know, and I love you so fucking much it hurts," you gave his arm a gentle squeeze to emphasize your point. Spencer's cheeks flushed a bit. He still needs to get used to your compliments.
"What I still don't get is why you didn't tell me. Don't you trust me enough to talk to me about how you feel?"
Spencer hastened to reply, taking your hand in his. "No! It's not that! I do trust you with my life!"
"Then why didn't you tell me the truth at the beginning?"
"I - I don't know. I thought you would see me as the shitty boyfriend who can't see his partner near another man. It's as if I wanted to control you. And that's far from what I want," Spencer explained, scooting by your side as his grip on your hand tightened. "It was my problem, not yours. You did nothing to make this happen. I'm the one who must have to fix it." You shook your head.
"Baby, no. If it is something that upsets you, it is my problem, too. Spencer, we need to talk about those things and resolve them together."
Spencer's head hung low, taking in your words.
"But why? I am the insecure one, and you have done nothing more than show me how unfounded my fear is."
"Well, because you're still my best friend, and I care about you." Spencer's gaze met yours again. "It's the thing I first loved about us, you know? I love feeling safe with you and having the trust to talk about what is happening to us." With loving eyes, you brought his hand to your lips to kiss it.
"I want you to keep being my best friend, too," Spencer said with a hopeful smile. It was all you needed to hear.
"Then please don't forget that. You can always talk to me, and I promise to do the same, okay?" Spencer nodded at your words, a smile tugging at his lips.
"Okay. I promise," Spencer replied before wrapping you in a tight embrace. You melted in his arms, feeling his warmth and inhaling his scent, something you have been missing in the past two days.
"I love you," you mumbled into his chest. "So so much."
"I love you too. And I'm so sorry for my behavior two days ago," Spencer muttered in your hair.
You chuckled, slightly parting to look at him.
"Yeah, we have to work on taming that green monster, doctor. Otherwise, Hotch won't be able to bring anyone new to the team," you pointed, leaning to kiss his lips. Spencer smiled into the kiss.
"That means you forgive me?" he asked hopefully. You narrowed your eyes.
"Yes. But you still have to make it up to me," you teased, faking seriousness.
Spencer nodded eagerly nonetheless. "Whatever it takes."
"You could start making something to eat. I'm starving here after two days with a hole in my stomach," you rubbed your belly for emphasis.
"Yes, ma'am," Spencer smiled, standing and strolling quickly to the kitchen. He felt so relieved after coming clean with you that he swore not to make the same mistake again. That green monster fed by his insecurities dissipating as he thought how lucky he was to love and have you in his life.
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Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @levi-of-starz @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers
#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid angst#dr. spencer reid#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x you#aperrywilliams#amanda perry williams
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nerd in love
– after a misunderstanding, jisung finally tells yn how he feels at his birthday party .ᐟ.ᐟ
pairing | han jisung x fem reader
genre | mutual pining , fluff , uni au – 18+ is strongly advised!
cw | she/her pronouns used ; mostly in jisung pov ; food and alcohol mentioned ; a lil suggestive at the end
words | 10.1k ~ ( 10,133 )
notes | well, here it is! i started this before my break (which is why its so late) but finished it during my break n i just wanted to post it bc im proud of this n i adore this version of jisung n the friendship dynamics !! :( don’t forget to leave feedback, reblog and tell me what you think here. i hope you all enjoy! ‹3
m.list — wips list — you can also read it on my ao3
dont repost. dont translate. minors, ageless & default blogs; dni! feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!
your pen taps against the white, lined sheet of paper that has a few scribbles and doodles on. your cheek resting on your hand as you sigh a little in boredom.
the professor has been groaning on and on about the same thing. you want to listen and take in the information as you know it's important, but your mind wanders and you start to daydream; making imaginary scenarios.
you'd imagine an alien suddenly abducting you because it heard your silent cries of boredom. you and the alien would become the best of friends, the alien showing you around it's space shuttle and inviting you to have some tea and cake before making friendship bracelets – because that's what humans do, right?
other times, you'd imagine a strong, buff greek god suddenly turning up in class. he'd walk to you and take your hand, claiming that you're his long lost bride, before carrying you bridal style and off into the sunset where you two would get married and have babies.
so caught up in your fake scenarios, you don't see that another student is now looking at you.
the student is sitting in front of you–his usual designated spot. black hair that's long and permed and covers his eyes. glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. dressed in a button up shirt and black jeans, paired with a few accessories and black doc marten boots.
“excuse me.” he whispers, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “you're making too much noise.” he frowns.
you snap out of your daydream and sit up straight, wiping the imaginary drool from your chin with the back of your hand.
“o-oh.. sorry jisung.” you laugh awkwardly. he tuts and rolls his eyes before facing the front. you scoff a little and sit back in your seat.
you don't have very many friends in university, a small handful but it's enough and you don't have very many enemies either, but since jisung started the same class as you, he's been cold towards you.
he's not like this with other people, just you–it's like he can't stand you.
but for some reason, his cold, mean demeanour just makes you want him and find him even more attractive.
it's not a kink of yours, to be spoken down to and degraded. in fact, you love having the attention on you and being treated kindly and gently so it's unknown to you why you find him so attractive.
“alright class! that's all for today. you're all dismissed.” the teacher says. you silently cheer, packing up your things in your backpack.
jisung rises to his feet and swings his bag onto his shoulder, letting it rest there before pulling out his phone. you both catch eye contact with each other.
“see you tomorrow?” you say politely and smile. jisung quickly looks away and mumbles something before walking out in a rush.
maybe you're still daydreaming, but you swore you could see the tips of his ears turning a light shade of pink.
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“fuck, i’m so late!” you alternate between running and speed walking your way to your class. your alarm didn't go off this morning so when you finally awoke, it was up and out in a flash. “i'm so screwed!”
today is an important day. the teacher was going to go over a few things on a test that's due in a few weeks so you really needed to attend it to get an idea–but alas, here you are. hair disheveled, dried up drool on your chin and your socks mismatched with your backpack hanging off your shoulder.
you breathe a sigh of relief before stopping in front of the lecture hall doors. you take a deep breath and fix yourself up before reaching out to open the doors.
the doors suddenly swing open. the students exiting the hall. you stand in the middle of the students as they walk around you, engaging in conversations with their friends.
you frown in confusion, looking at the time on your phone. your eyes widen even more, bulging from the sockets.
“oh wow.. i really fucked up.” you were a lot later than you thought.
you look up to see jisung looking at his phone. today he's in a plain, black t-shirt and skinny jeans. a few chains hanging around his neck and converse.
“hey, ji!” you call out. he looks up at whoever is calling him before his face twists into disgust when he realises it's you. you ignore this, mainly because he rushes past you.
you frown and chase after him, trying to keep up with his speed–but he's too fast.
“hey! wait! i know you heard me, ji!!”
“don’t call me that. my name is jisung.” he mumbles.
“ok ok, sorry! just, i need help!”
“find it elsewhere.” his tone of voice is cold towards you; like always. again, you ignore it.
“please, i’m desperate! my alarm didn't go off and i clearly missed class! i know it was super important too and–can you slow down and listen to me?!” you huff.
jisung lets out an irritated sigh and looks at you; phone in one hand, earphones in the other. he stops in the middle of the corridor and looks at you.
you bend down, hands on your knees to catch your breath.
“you being late has nothing to do with me. it's your own fault for being late.” he says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
“yeah, i know.”
“you fucked up and now you want my help? how could i possibly help you?”
“i need your notes.”
“my notes? fuck no.”
“oh please, ji… sorry–jisung. i really, really need this.” you pout. jisung groans and rubs the back of his neck.
“ok, fine.” he sighs in defeat. you're taken aback by how easy it was for him to surrender his notes over to you; but you don't complain. he takes his notebook out of his bag and hands it to you. you cheer and open it up, looking at the notes.
his handwriting is beautiful. his notes are easy to follow, however, you've come to the realisation that looking at notes isn't going to be enough for you to get the information to stick in your mind.
“make sure to give it to me by the end of the day. i’m usually at the library.” he says as you flick through his notes. “if you can't find me, find minho. he's my roommate.”
you don't respond due to the fact that so much information is causing your brain to go into information overload. jisung sighs again and, as he is about to walk away, you grab his arm.
“wait!” you make a quick mental note of how soft his skin is and how muscular he feels. jisung looks at your hand that's on him, feeling heat quickly rise to his cheeks and his heart to thumb erratically in his chest.
“your hand.” he whispers. you lean in close to get a better understanding of what he just said.
“pardon?”
“hand. your hand. please remove it.”
“oh!” you quickly remove your hand from him. jisung clears his throat and looks down, hoping that his long hair covers his face to hide the blush that's happily sitting on his cheeks.
you see it though and make a note of how adorable he looks. you feel your own heartbeat skipping beats and beating erratically but you put it down to you having to sprint to class.
“i don't think this will be enough.” you start. he looks up at you. “the notes.. i don't think it's going to be enough.”
“well, there's a library and also the internet. there’s this thing called google, so use that.”
“teach me.” his eyes widen in shock.
“t-teach you?! fuck no, yn!”
“please, jisung! just until the test is over! i really, really need this. i’m desperate and, although your notes are so perfect, it's going to take a lot more than notes for me to understand it!”
“then ask the tutor for a one-on-one! or ask your friend!!” he stutters in shock. his cheeks are now bright red.
“you know the tutor doesn't do one-on-ones and my friends don't even take this class! oh please, jisung. pleeeaseee. pretty pretty pleeease.” you pout, giving him puppy eyes.
“yn…”
“i’ll buy you your coffee everyday for a full month.”
“... just my coffee?”
“what sweet treat do you like?”
“...cheesecake.” he answers reluctantly.
“then coffee and cheesecake on me for a full month!” jisung runs his fingers through his hair slowly, a soft, defeated sigh leaving his lips as he contemplates.
“you really need this, huh.” you nod your head fast to the point of dizziness. “you drive a hard bargain, yn. but fine.”
you cheer and grin widely.
“on some conditions though.”
“what?”
“we study in the library, you don't be late and we only do this until the test is over! after that, i won't teach you anymore.”
“yes sir.” you salute. “oh, do you want my contact information? might make it easier to set up study dates.”
“study dates?”
“yeah! i assume we have different schedules due to different classes, so it's better to text or call each other so we know when to meet up!”
“true.. ok, fine. give me.” you tell jisung your contact information. he phones you and you smile as you save his contact information.
“thank you so much, jisung! you're the best!” you say before sprinting off to find your friend leaving a flustered jisung bewildered in the middle of the corridor.
“study dates, huh.. i kinda like that.”
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“dude, chill. you're just going to the library to study” jisung’s roommate laughs as he watches jisung scurrying around the place as he packs his bag.
minho is relaxing on jisung’s bed, shirtless and in sweats with round glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose whilst eating an ice pop. him and jisung have been the best of friends since university started and he became jisung’s roommate.
since then, they've both been inseparable. many people speculate that something is going on between the two of them, indicating a relationship–minsung, they call them.
“i am chill.” jisung mumbles as he shoves in a few too many pens into his pencil case.
“yeah, suuuure.” minho laughs as he licks and sucks on his popsicle. “i’ve watched you run around the place like a headless chicken.”
“dude, please hush.” jisung looks at minho just as some sticky sweet ice drops onto minho's chest. he scoops it up with his fingers and eats it. jisungs sighs “do you have to eat that on my bed?”
“yeah. problem?” minho smirks
“yes. quite a few actually. you're going to get the sheets sticky!” jisung whines.
“not the first time i've heard that.” minho laughs at his own joke. jisung rolls his eyes but the corner of his lips turn upright into a smile as he holds back his laugh.
“you're disgusting.”
“yeah? and you're a mess right now, bro.” minho places the wooden popsicle stick on jisung's side table before swinging his legs around to plant his feet on the floor.
he stands and walks to jisung, ruffling his hair a few times.
“you're just going to study, that's all. it's not that big of a deal, bro. unless….” minho smirks and wiggles his brows at jisung.
“unless what? what are you implying, minho?” jisung says as he crosses his arms across his chest and raises his brow.
“unless you, oh i don't know, like her.” jisung's eyes widen a little and he clears his throat, turning his head to avoid eye contact with minho. “aha!! i knew it! you do like ‘em!”
“no, i don't. fuck off, minho.” jisung mumbles and rushes to his desk, messing and organizing a few things to ‘look busy.’
minho skips over to jisung with a smirk. “c’mon ji. we all know you've been smitten with yn since the very beginning. it's soooo obvious!”
“dude, please. i don't like her like that. and it's jisung–not ji!”
“ahuh. whatever you say, dude.” minho laughs.
“plus, she probably doesn't like me in that way..” jisung mumbles before sighing softly.
“have you asked her that?”
“well… no but–”
“then how do you know?”
“i just do, ok?! enough with the questions, minho. don't you have that media assignment to do or something?”
“nope.” minho says, popping the p in an obnoxious way. “all done, which means i am a free man.”
“no one is a ‘free man’ in university, minho.” jisung laughs.
“ugh, you're right. even though one assignment is done, i still have a gazillion more.” minho runs his fingers through his long, shaggy hair. “speaking of which, i best start with at least one of them.”
“good luck, man. you'll do great.” jisung says sarcastically, paring it with a sarcastic grin.
“fuck you. good luck with yn, jisung.” minho turns around and walks out of jisung's bedroom. “hope you get laid!” he shouts.
“fuck you.” jisung laughs. minho sticks his middle finger up at jisung before laughing and closing his bedroom door.
with the last of his things packed, he zips up his back. he checks one last time in the mirror, fixing his hair and spraying his best perfume onto his neck. he puts his hand up to his mouth, huffing on it before sniffing. pulling a face, he grabs a mint and pops it into his mouth, sucking on it as he puts on his shoes and a leather jacket.
“it’s just a study thing. it's not that serious. calm down, jisung.” he mumbles as he laces up his shoes.
but he can't stop his heartbeat from thumping loudly against his ribcage and excitement to rush through his body. his excitement is so big, it makes him shake.
“it’s not a big deal. she probably doesn't like you that way.” he continues to mumble in an attempt to calm himself down as he takes one last look in the mirror. a smile slowly creeps up onto his face and a small squeal escapes from the back of his throat.
“fuck! i’m so screwed.”
minho hears this and laughs at his friend's excitement before putting on his headphones. if there's one thing minho loves, is seeing his best friend happy and over the moon. he just hopes he won't get hurt.
“cute.” minho says to himself before typing away at his keyboard. jisung leaves the bedroom and shouts a goodbye to minho before heading out to the library.
nervous doesn't describe how jisung is feeling. as he walks to the library, his legs start to feel like jelly and the urge to turn back strong the closer he gets to his destination. he hopes that you're not there first just so he has time to calm himself down.
he even tries to listen to music in hopes that it would calm him down somewhat. but the soothing sounds of violins and cellos do nothing (he even tried listen to a few seconds of whale noises but even that was useless)
“we’re just studying. nothing more.” he repeats under his breath as he walks inside the library.
the place is nicely decorated, modern with a hint of an historic touch. students at tables and little cubicles, headphones on and studying. some in groups, whispering as they do projects of various kinds. some making the most of how quiet it is to take a quick nap. the occasional rustling of snack packets paired with the occasional crunch breaks the silence every so often.
it's silent but it's lively.
jisung says a few hellos to some students he recognises (either from classes they take together or them being minho's friends) as he searches the area for you.
his heart thumping as he searches. he silently cheers when he can't see you because he has a chance to calm down, but, as he walks to an empty table at the very back of the room, his victory is cut short as he sees you sitting there; ready and waiting.
you have your back to him (and to everyone else) and you're hunched over your notebook. jacket resting on the back seat with your bag on the floor, by your side. jisung takes a quick, small peek over your shoulder to see what you're doing only to see small, quick doodles on the page from boredom.
his heart swells a little as it's another thing he's learnt about you. just when he thinks you couldn't get any more perfect.
“hey, yn.” he whispers only to realise that you won't hear him no matter how many times he calls for you due to the music that's blasting from your earphones. he makes a quick mental note of who you're listening to before trying to get your attention again.
“hey, yn.” he places his hand on your shoulder to which you jump at, causing jisung to jump at your reaction. you look behind you as you take out your earbuds, sighing in relief.
“jesus, jisung. you frightened me.”
“sorry, yn. i didn't mean to.”
“no, it's ok. my music may have been a little too loud.” you laugh as you put them away and jisung sits next to you on one of the chairs.
“you know you'll get tinnitus if you keep doing that.”
“yeah… i know. it's a bad habit but music sounds better loud, y‘know!” jisung nods in agreement before pulling out his notebook and pencil case.
you watch him lean down. you take the time to admire him. his hair soft and fluffy. you have to resist the urge to run your fingers through it. a faint smell of strawberries and flowers emits from his hair; a sickly sweet yet pleasant smell.
his skin is dewy and perfect; not a blemish in sight. a beauty mark sits close to his lips. it's a small mark so it's no wonder you never recognised it before.
you notice the way his biceps bulge and flex with every motion of his arms. the chains from his neck dangle a little and his aftershave wafts towards you and tickles your nose hairs.
“you smell so good.“ you mumble. jisung looks at you.
“excuse me?”
“you smell so fucking good.” you repeat and lean in close to him. your hair tickles his jawline and chin as you smell the skin of his neck. “what do you use?”
“...i–urm, i don't know. i just picked it up when i was shopping.” you hum and nod. jisungs soft cheeks slowly start to feel very hot. “personal space, yn. ever heard of it?”
“oh!! sorry. my bad. i didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.” you laugh awkwardly as a awkward silence falls upon you both.
jisung turns his head away from you so you can't see him but his cheeks are very red and hot as his heart beats fast.
you were so close to him. so very, very close. he thought he was going to have a heart attack. he could smell you and to him, you smell so delicious and sweet; like vanilla cheesecake.
“this is not good for my heart.” he mumbles to himself.
“by the way” you begin. jisung looks at you. you slide a cold coffee and cheesecake in the middle of you both. “told you i’d stick to my end of the bargain.”
“i didn't expect you to do it so soon, yn. it's only the first session.”
you shrug. “a deals a deal.” jisung takes the cheesecake and coffee, sipping on it and humming softly as the bitter, cold taste coats his tastebuds and the caffeine enters his system.
“i didn't know what flavoured cheesecake you like so i hope it's ok.”
“what flavour is it?”
“strawberry”
“mhm, not bad.”
“you don't like strawberry?” you say with a small pout. he shrugs.
“it's fine. not the worst. but it's too sweet for me. i’m a vanilla kinda guy.”
“aah, ok. i’ll make a mental note of that.” you say as you tap your temple, laughing softly. jisung lets out a small puff of air from his nose. you see the corner of his lips curl into a small and that makes you feel like he's accepted you.
“now, enough chitchat. i actually want to be done in a decent time so, let's begin?”
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“sooooo” jisung looks up at minho, his chopsticks half hanging from his mouth, resting on his bottom lip.
the smell of spicy, instant ramen fills the air. minho cooked some food for the two of them as they have both been studying hard for upcoming tests and assignments.
instant ramen with a slice of cheese on top. rice cakes, fish cakes and other yummy goodnesss swim in the broth. the kitchen looks a mess, pots and pans scattered everywhere–it contributes to the rest of the dorm with the various clothing and shoes scattered around.
“soooo…” jisung repeats, eyebrows raised. his bangs are tied back in a pink hair tie (your pink hair tie), a white vest top and sweats on his body. minho is also in sweats but with an anime print t-shirt and a sanrio clip to hold back his bangs and a pore strip on his nose; getting tighter and tighter by the second.
“have you asked her yet?”
“asked her what?” jisung takes some noodles and a fish cake, putting them on a small, separate plate before grabbing some kimchi.
“dude.” minho rolls his eyes and lets out a long, irritable groan. “for being smart, you sure are dumb.”
“you're just dumb through and through.” jisung smiles playfully as minho sticks his middle finger up at his best friend.
“fuck you.” minho takes a rice cake that's soaked in the ramen broth. he chews it, the sound of sticky, chewy rice cake emits from his mouth. “anyways! have you asked yn about the party?”
jisung lets out a slow grunt. “not this again, minho.”
“what?!” minho says with a shrug as he continues to chew and talk.
“i already told you, and eeeeveryone else. i don't want a party or anything of the sort, minho. i just want it to be a nice, quiet day.” jisung’s eyes drift to the half chewed rice cake that's being tossed around in minho's mouth. he pulls a face in disgust. “and can you please not talk with your mouth full?”
“you're such a prude.” minho rolls his eyes but swallows his food regardless. “anyways, you know me, changbin and chan won't let you have a quiet birthday!”
“yeah, no shit.” jisung rolls his eyes as he slurps on his noodles. he wipes his mouth with a napkin before munching on some kimchi. “still don't understand why you all decided to plan a birthday party without my knowledge knowing full well i said no in the beginning.”
“dude, you're so boring.” minho jests. “it's your birthday!” he emphasise. “you're supposed to have a party, eat lots of cake and junk. drink beer, hang out with friends and maybe, get laid.”
he wiggles his eyebrows at jisung and laughs softly. with a heavy sigh, jisung puts his chopsticks down.
“no matter what, you're going to go through with this, aren't you?”
“yup!” minho obnoxiously pops the P. “plus, things have already been ordered and organised for it. we already have a few people who confirmed they're attending.”
“who?”
“mhm–” minho puts down his chopsticks and thinks, looking at the ceiling as he does. “felix from fashion design. hyunjin from art. seungmin from business studies and jeongin who is also from fashion design.”
“how do you know all these people?”
“well, unlike some–” minho's eyes widen as he looks at jisung, indicating he's talking about him in particular “–some of us actually get out. plus, chan is like a social butterfly and changbin is charismatic. put them two together and well, people can't say no.”
“yeah, true. i remember when they begged me to work on a track or something for their music assignment.”
“they both practically dragged you to do it.” minho laughs.
“only because you told them i said yes without me knowing about the situation!”
“because i knew you'd say no! you have a talent for this stuff, jisung. don't let it go to waste.”
“thanks.” he mumbles, hanging his head low in embarrassment and awkwardness.
“is that… is that a blush i see?!” minho smirks.
“me? blush? for you?! hell no!” jisung frowns. “the ramen is spicy, that's all.”
“dude… it's mild.”
“...fuck you.”
“so, are you going to ask yn or nah?”
“if it gets you and everyone else off my back, then sure”
“good. make sure you do!” jisung opens and closes his hand, mimicking minho's yapping.
“yeah yeah yeah. can we stop talking about this party and eat?”
“just looking out for ya, man. i know how much you like ‘em!”
“i know. i appreciate it, minho.” minho nods and continues eating the ramen. jisung, on the other hand, is now lost in thought.
how the hell is he going to get the courage to ask you something like that?
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the study sessions are slowly coming to end. you kept up with your end of the deal, providing jisung with an endless amount of coffees and cheesecakes whilst he has provided you with an endless amount of insights.
one thing you have learnt about him is that he is smart. he knows how to do things with just a quick glance. he's good at explaining things so it's not confusing.
you've been stuck on a problem for some time and no amount of teachers advice and youtube videos helped you. all it took was five minutes of jisung explaining the solution and it clicked.
today, however, you are alone in the library. jisung messaged you to let you know that he wasn't going to make it. you felt sad and a little heartbroken–you’ve become so accustomed to jisung's presence that you feel a little cold and lonely right now.
you can't concentrate. the music you're blasting down your ears isn't helping either. the text in your book is slowly starting to merge into one big splooge of text. the information just isn't getting through to you and it's frustrating.
you sit back in your seat and sigh as you take your headphones off and throw them on the table.
“this is pointless.” you mumble. “i can't concentrate. maybe i should just skip it.”
you take your phone and browse through social media before subconsciously opening up the food app. your mouth salivates as you look at the various burgers, fries, pizza and sweet treats–and then your stomach growls.
“maybe i’m just hungry. that's why i can't concentrate.” you pack your things and head to the university cafeteria. the menu looks dull so you settle on a simple sandwich and drink.
the cafeteria is packed. the atmosphere is buzzing with the endless chatter of students. you take your seat and pick up your sandwich.
it's a standard ham salad sandwich with some dressing on. the slices of ham and lettuce (too much lettuce for that matter), tomatoes and other salad stuff squished together by two slices of thick, white bread, smothered in dressing.
you take a few bites. it's ok. it's not bad but you've had better. the bread is a little dry for your liking but the dressing takes that away. you open the cap of your bottled drink and take a few swigs to help wash it down.
“what do we have here?” you turn your head in the direction of the voice–that thick aussie accent you know all too well.
“ew. go away chan. you're disturbing my peace.”
“charming. don't think that's something you should say to someone you haven't seen in a while.” he says with a pout as he walks to your table and sits down. he's joined by another man, a friend of his, perhaps. he sits opposite you.
“and whose fault is that, huh? maybe if you answered my calls or texts every once in a while.”
“sorry, yn. i’m just a busy man, y’know.” chan grins as he leans back in his seat, brimming with confidence.
“yeah. too busy being the campus whore.”
“blah blah blah. least i’m getting some.” he elbows you in the side a few times. “what are you getting, huh?” he jests.
“a degree? y'know that thing i came here for in the first place.”
“oh ha ha. very funny, yn.” chan mocks, rolling his eyes at you before stealing your sandwich and taking a bite.
the male opposite you clears his throat as a way of telling you both “hi, i’m still here.”
“oh! yn, this is minho. minho, yn.” minho's eyes widen a little and his lips twitch into a small smile.
“so, you're yn. nice to put a face to the name.“ he grins.
“you know me?” you blink a few times in confusion.
“i’m jisung’s roommate.” you mentally slap yourself. of course!
“oh my god. i’m so sorry. i didn't realise! i’m so bad with names.” you whine. minho laughs and brushes it off.
“and how do you know jisung, yn?” chan says with a mouthful of food; your food to be exact. you glare at him, daggers darting out of your eyes and straight into chan as you snatch your sandwich back off him.
“jisung’s my private tutor as of right now.”
“oh.” chan nods before his eyes suddenly light up. he looks at minho for confirmation. “wait, hold up.”
minho nods and smirks. “nah. really?!” you watch the two men talk in code as they communicate by facial expressions and a stings of “ohs” and “yeahs”
“uh, hello. i’m still here!” minho laughs softly.
“sorry, yn.” you shrug it off and eat your sandwich. “how do you two know each other by the way. chan has never mentioned you before.”
“good. keep it that way.” you say coldly, mainly aiming it at chan. chan pouts and nuzzles into you, head on shoulder. he looks at you with puppy eyes and a pout.
“aww. don't be like that, bestie. you secretly love me.” you flick his forehead.
“me and chan are childhood friends. haven't been able to get rid of him since.” chan smiles at your sweet implication. “he's like a parasite. or a fruit fly in the summer.” his smile drops and now, it's your turn to give chan a big, sarcastic grin–teeth and all.
“rude.” he mumbles. you shrug and finish off your sandwich.
“so, jisung is your tutor.” minho speaks. you nod. “are you attending his party?”
“party? what party?” you look at chan and minho. minho sighs a little and runs his fingers through his hair.
“i warned him.” he mumbles under his breath in irritation before looking at you and smiling softly. “me, chan and a few others are organising a birthday party for jisung.”
“his birthday is coming up?!” your eyes widen. “when? i should get him a gift”
“14th.”
“14th?! that's pretty soon.” you mumble.
“jisung told me he would invite you.” you shake your head no. minho rubs the back of his neck. “well, this is awkward.”
“it’s ok. maybe he has his reasons as to why he didn't mention it to me. no biggie.” you say with a smile. minho nods before a few minutes of silence dawn upon the three of you.
“out of curiosity.” you break the silence. “how is jisung in general?” minho tilts his head to the side. “it's just he seems so….” you think for a second, thinking of the right (and nice) word to use “... cold towards me.”
“cold?”
“mhm. he seems so bitter towards me and i don't know why. we barely even talked in class but when we did, he would always tell me i’m making too much noise and to hush.” you slowly start to feel slightly irritated.
“jisung is fine with me.” he says with a. shrug. “he's pretty chill around me.” you huff.
“i know he can be friendly because whenever i see him in the corridors talking to someone, he smiles and is so friendly!”
“what’s he likes now, yn?”
“well, now that we've been spending more time with each other, he's… i don't know… avoiding me to some degree? he won't make eye contact with me. he doesn't like it when i touch him.”
chan raises his brow and looks at minho, both men thinking the same thing. chan puts you in a gentle headlock and ruffles your hair.
“hey!! get off me!!” you push chan a few times, using all your strength to make him release you.
“you're pretty naive, yn.” chan laughs, continuing to ruffle your hair. he ignores your screams and yells, minho laughing at the two of you.
finally, chan let's you go. you push him with all the strength you have left before fixing your hair and glaring at him. chan pouts and nuzzles into you once again.
“i’m sorry, yn. forgive me?” he puckers his lips and makes kissing noises, edging closer and closer to you. you hold him at arm's length.
“ok ok!! just quit doing that!!” chan laughs and pats your head gently.
as fast as he was in the cafeteria, jisung is soon out of it after seeing you and chan, with nothing but festering jealousy in his stomach.
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you bounce through the library to your designated spot at the very back, coffee and cheesecake in each hand with your bag swinging on your shoulder.
jisung is there, punctual, as always. but something seems a little off. the air around him seems thick and suffocating–dark even.
“hey!” your cheerful voice ringing in his ears, making his heart beat fast. you sit next to him and slide over the coffee and cheesecake.
today he's dressed in a yellow and orange flannel shirt and white tank-top. black jeans and boots to accommodate. a few of his nails are painted in black, chipping from wear and tear.
he gives you a cold nod of the head. you frown a little but choose to ignore it as you take your books and pens out of your bag.
“so, what's the plan for today?” jisung shrugs. “...ok, well how about we go over that question i was struggling with?”
“k” he reluctantly moves closer to you. the scent of cinnamon and vanilla wafts towards you and tickles your nostrils, making you let out a small hum of satisfaction.
“you smell good, jisung.”
“mhm, thanks.” you let out a silent sigh. something is wrong with him and you don't know why. is it something you've done? something you haven't done?
jisung is being very dry and sour with you. his usual method of teaching you is that he would go into detail and repeat until you'd understand it, today, however, he's very short and sharp.
“i don't understand.” you say. jisung sighs, a long irritated sigh. you bite your lip, thinking that you've done something to hurt him in any possible way.
“what don't you get?”
“all of it…” he sighs again and rubs his face. his eyebrows furrow together in irritation. the jealousy he is feeling in his stomach is festering, becoming more and more intense.
every time he looks at you, he is reminded of the way you and chan were together. he hates that. how could you fall for someone like chan? he thought you were better than that. his head swimming with negative and harsh thoughts.
before he can stop himself, the words just spill without any control. “why don't you get chan to do it for you.”
you blink. “chan? what does he have to do with this?”
“i mean, you two are close are you not?”
“i mean.. well, yeah, i guess.” you shrug. “he does get on my nerves sometimes though. he is such a pain! but he's a good gu–”
“i thought you were better than that, yn.’ he spits.
“the fuck is that supposed to mean?” you feel the bubbling of rage in your stomach as you stare at jisung, who stares at you back. the jealousy has consumed his body and it's too late to back out now.
“as in, i thought you had standards. chan? of all people? he's a whore, yn. everyone knows that he sleeps around on campus and you chose him?!”
“i don't appreciate the way you're talking about him, jisung.”
“it’s the truth, yn! and you know it so why are you with him?! you can do sooo much better than him!!”
“oh yeah?” you challenge. “then who is good for me, mhm? please, enlighten me?”
jisung freezes. he looks away and chews his bottom lip. you scoff and pack your things in a hurry.
“i don't have to listen to this bullshit. you've been in a shit mood with me this whole time, which is fine. everyone has bad days. what's not ok, however, is you taking it out on me and bad mouthing the people i care about.” you stand up, swinging your bag onto your shoulder. jisung stares at one spot of the desk, burning holes into it. “text me when you're in a better mood.”
you walk out, leaving jisung to think about what he has just done.
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“jisunggggg. sungieeee. knock, knock. let me innn!” the sound of minho's high-pitched, cheery voice irritates jisung to the bone. he lets out a slow and irritated groan, hot puffs of air slowly exhaling from his nostrils.
he pushes his glasses up his nose and runs his fingers through his unwashed hair. sitting at his desk in the same baggy band t-shirt and sweats from a few days ago, he checks his phone for the nth time, only to be disappointed.
he hasn't spoken to you nor seen you since that day. in class, it's worse. he's tried to catch your eye a few times, smiling when he does, only for you to turn away. he spent days loathing in his own self pity, locking himself up in his room and only coming out for food, bathroom breaks and class.
minho has had enough. not only is jisung's mood ruining the atmosphere, but minho has no idea as to what happened that day. he was home when jisung came back to the dorm, looking like he was on the verge of tears.
when he asked, jisung always gave the same answer of “mind your own business.”–and he has; for several days now.
“let me in, jisung.” the repetitive sounds of minho's knuckles against the wood door cause jisung's stomach to bubble more intensely with anger–until he finally snaps.
he rushes to the door and swings it open, brows furrowed together. minho's smug grin makes him foam at the mouth.
“what part of leave me alone don't you understand, minho?” jisung's words dripping with poison. minho shrugs it off.
“all of it.” he pushes past jisung, making himself at home in his bedroom. jisung has no time to protest, all he can do is watch his best friend jump on his bed and rest on his back, arms behind his head.
with a heavy sigh, jisung walks back to his desk. he turns his back on him, hoping that if he ignores his friend, he will get bored and eventually leave. minho watches his friend pick up and put down his phone several times to the point where minho feels irritated by it.
“so?” minho starts
“so?” jisung repeats
“going to tell me what's happened? haven't seen you this down in a while.”
“nope. i'm good.”
“you can't keep moping around the place, jisung.”
“i can and i will.” minho groans and stands up, walking out of the bedroom. jisung mentally cheers only for it to be cut short when minho throws his jacket at jisung.
“put it on.” it's more of a demand than a sentence, but nonetheless, jisung obliges because if he doesn't, minho will force it on him.
“where are we going?”
“to the cafe.” minho puts on his shoes, jisung following suit.
“aah, dude.. i don't really fe–”
“shut up, we're going to the cafe whether you want to or not. a change of scenery might cheer your moody ass up because, to be quite honest, i’m tired of seeing your gloomy ass face.” he looks at jisung who is frowning at him. “in the nicest way possible, of course.”
jisung rolls his eyes before following minho to the local (and one of his favourite) cafes.
it's a small, local café with an old fashioned sense of style to it. the tables and chairs are worn. cushions on the chairs losing their stuffing and the tables scratched and chipped. the décor is outdated, indicating that the café has been there for quite a few years; but it feels like home to some.
the bell above the door chimes as minho and jisung walk in. they walk to the counter and say their orders before taking their lunch and drinks and sitting at a table.
jisung takes a sip of the coffee. he feels the ice cold beverage trickling down his esophagus and into his empty stomach. minho munches on his chicken salad sandwich, watching his friend look in his drink and ponder.
“i fucked up.” jisung mumbles, lost in thought. the more he thinks about you, the more he can feel the tears threaten to spill down his cheeks. minho tilts his head to the side and as he is about to open his mouth and encourage his friend to continue, a familiar sound in the form of a laugh causes jisung's head to shoot up and look in that direction.
his eyes widen. he feels relief and happy to see a smile finally on your face; but then that same, the green monster in the form of jealousy parks itself on his shoulder and starts whispering in his ear.
minho watches jisung's jaw muscles clench. his facial expression goes from relief to jealousy. minho follows jisung's gaze and raises his brow at the sight of you and chan.
chan is being his usual, goofy self. he's telling you typical dad jokes and being a little grotest by telling you his latest hook-up details. you push him by the arm and roll your eyes, sipping your coffee in the process. chan continues to joke around with you, play fighting a little by wrapping his arm around the back of your neck loosely and rubbing the top of your head with his knuckles.
“i can't fucking stand this.” jisung mutters bitterly under his breath. minho turns and looks at his friend who is green with jealousy.
“stand what?”
“seeing someone as precious and innocent as yn be with someone like chan!” minho blinks a few times.
“what do you… jisung, what do you think yn and chans relationship is?”
“isnt it obvious? they're going out!” minho gives jisung a few blank stares and blinks before bursting out into laughter, choking on his own saliva in the process. “what?!”
jisungs cheeks flush red with embarrassment but also with anger. his own friend laughing at his statement, finding amusement in his sorrows.
“are you serious? please tell me you're joking?” minho stutters through his giggles.
“dead serious.” jisung says, deadpan. “don't you see the way they are with each other? i saw you all the other day, in the cafeteria! chan's arm around yn and them being all…. lovey!!”
“oh my god.” minho calms himself down. “you really are serious!”
“i told you! i even asked yn about it and well… it didn't go so well.”
“is that why you've been so moody and upset lately?” jisung nods his head slowly, feeling some type of guilt. minho sighs heavily, wondering how he can soften the blow of the news he's about to give his best friend.
“jisung…” minho starts. “yn and chan are not dating.” jisung's face drops.
“excuse me?”
“they're not dating. they're just childhood best friends. apparently they've known each other since they were kids. “
“so you're telling me.. that i got it all wrong when i saw you three in the cafeteria?“ minho slowly nods whilst giving a sympathetic smile. jisung sits back in his seat in disbelief. “why did chan never mention yn?! fuck, i fucked up… i really, really fucked up…”
“oh, c’mon. it can't be that bad.” minho tries to lighten the situation.
“dude. i told her i thought she had standards! i called her best friend a whore!”
“i mean, chan is a whore. he knows he is and he doesn't hid–”
“dude, please.” jisung interrupts. “not right now.” minho shrugs and sips his coffee whilst jisung rubs his face whilst groaning. “what do i do?”
“well.” minho puts down his coffee. “you make it right. admit you were in the wrong. explain how you were a jealous lil guy because you like her and that you fucked up.”
“and how do i do that? she’s been avoiding me for weeks and it’s not like i can go up to her right now and be like oh hey yn, sorry i called your best friend a whore oh, by the way, i like you.” jisung mocks himself in a high pitched voice, his face turning red in frustration.
“you're so dramatic.” minho rolls his eyes with a soft, yet heavy sigh. “for a smart guy, you're pretty dumb too.”
“pft, am not!” jisung scoffs and folds his arms across his chest. “... only when it comes to stuff like this.” he mumbles. “i just… don't know what to do or how to fix it. i really, really like her, minho.”
“ok? and? what do you want me to do about it? there's no point telling me about your feelings for yn. i'm not the one that fucked up and then decided to hold myself up in my room to drown in my own self-pity.” minho says with a shrug.
to the outside world, minho's words sound harsh but to jisung, it's a reality check.
he sighs softly for the nth time as he glances over at you. he watches you laugh and smile with chan, soaking in your beauty and the way you glow with happiness.
“to make it easier for you.” minho breaks the few seconds of silence between the two, feeling a little responsible for his friend in need. “i may have mentioned your birthday party to yn.”
“what?! why?”
“bro, you weren't going to mention it! so i just.. did you a favour.” minho shrugs, a smug look on his face.
“... is she coming?”
minho shrugs. “dunno. she seemed interested at least but this was before you called her best friend a whore so–”
“that was an accident. i didn't mean to.. i just got too–”
“worked up? jealous perhaps?” minho says, or rather states, with a raised brow. jisung hums and nods his head slowly, teeth chewing on his bottom lip.
minho chews on his straw as he watches his friend think. he can see the cogs turning in jisung's skull. jisung is inexperienced when it comes to relationships so seeing him like this, brings minho slight amusement.
“look, jisung. if she turns up, you approach her and apologise whilst also telling her how you feel.” minho holds his hand up to jisung who is just about to protest but is quick to close his mouth and listen. “if she doesn't turn up, you find her the next day, apologise and tell her how you feel. heck, text her if you have to!”
“dude… you know i can't do that!”
“ok. then you have the other option, which is to keep wallowing in your self pity and watch yn from the sidelines.” minho shrugs. “i don't know dude. be the main character for once. you clearly like her so take the chance.”
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jisung's birthday rolled around. you haven't heard nor spoken to him since the argument so you didn't originally plan on turning up to his birthday party; but chan being chan is forcing you to go as his plus one.
“is this ok?” you smooth down your party outfit as you present yourself to chan. chan is sitting at your dressing table, dressed in blue, skinny jeans, a compression shirt that hugs and molds his muscles and combat boots. a silver chain around his neck, earrings in one ear and a few rings on his fingers.
he looks up from his phone and smirks playfully. he wolf whistles at you to which you scoff and roll your eyes at.
“looking good there, yn.”
“really? i threw this together at the last minute.’
“you look great, don't worry. you're gonna knock ‘em dead.” chan laughs.
“i really don't want to go, chan.” you groan.
“weeeell, too late. you're coming with me to this party, even if i have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you there.”
chan has heard about your little argument with jisung from minho. the two of them had a drink together during the week and chan listened to minho vent about jisung.
once minho mentioned the fight did it all come together. you've been feeling down and withdrawn, not knowing what to do or how to deal with your feelings. you've put on a fake smile and basically faked your way through the weeks–but chan has known you for years so he can see through you, he just didn't want to press you.
you'll come to him when the time is right; you always do.
“do i have to?” you ask for the nth time whilst putting on your shoes. chan laughs at your contradicting actions and shakes his head before standing up.
“yes, you do. it'll be fun and hopefully, it'll lift your spirits.” you pout.
“i have been a little moody lately, haven't i?” chan raises his brows and scoffs.
“a little!? pur-lease! i thought knives were going to spawn out of your eyes at one point.”
“mhm.. i’m sorry chan. it's just been a long couple of weeks with a lot of thinking.” you sigh softly. chan elbows your side gently.
“hey. let's not think about that right now. let's go to this party, have a couple of drinks and a dance, yeah?” you nod slowly.
“not like i have a say in this.”
“that's my girl. now.” chan grabs your hand gently and pulls you to the front door. “let's go have some fuuuun!!!”
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it's loud. the bass of the music rings in your ears and shakes the ground beneath you.
it smells. the stench of stale cigarettes, sweat and alcohol tickles your nostrils and causes you to feel lightheaded and nauseous.
you've tried several times to turn away and head back but chan was always right there.
chan abandoned you to go chat up some girls so you're sat on the sofa, surrounded by people making out, drinking or passing out (if they haven't already)
you hold your red, plastic solo cup which is filled halfway with some punch. the smell is pungent and the taste is awful. it's too strong for your liking so you take small, delicate sips.
as the night rolls on, you have yet to see jisung. not that you want to but, it would help you feel some comfort and less suffocated to see a familiar face.
you glance at your phone screen. 11:20 pm. it's soon time for you to leave. you don't want to be here any longer than you have to and considering that chan has left you alone, you don't feel the need to be here any more.
you stand up from the couch to walk to the kitchen. you shimmy your way in and out of crowds of people who are dancing, talking or making out with someone that they won't remember tomorrow.
you pour your drink down the sink and throw away your empty cup. as you're about to turn and leave, a familiar voice is heard from behind.
“yn. hi.”
you turn on your heels and a sense of relief washes over you as you come face to face with a face you've been longing to see (even if you don't want to admit it)
you forget why you're so angry at him for a split second. his beauty never fails to make you feel star struck and silently go “wow.” but then you remember.
“hi.” you reply coldly.
“can i talk to you?” he shouts, hoping his voice isn't drowned out by the music.
“not right now. i was just about to leave.” you walk past him to leave. jisung grabs your arm gently to stop you. you look at him and he is quick to remove his hand.
“please? just… let me explain…” he chews his bottom lip, his brows scrunched together in the middle. you think for a second and sigh softly, nodding slowly.
“ok. fine. but make it quick.” you swear you see the corner of jisung's lips curl into a subtle smile, his eyes lighting up a little. he beckons you to follow him so you do.
you follow him outside. compared to inside, where it's hot and humid, the harsh, cold night air is refreshing and soothes your damp skin.
“look.” he starts as he stops walking to turn to you. “i know i was a complete asshole.” you scoff but don't say anything. “it's just… aah fuck, how do i say this.”
you watch jisung slowly become flustered. the tips of his ears turn red, his hands clammy as he shakes a little. he shuffles on his feet to shift his weight and avoids eye contact with you.
“fuck.. this is so hard… minho said it'd be easy once i get talking but fuck minho.” jisung rambles to himself. the anger you felt slowly disappears and is replaced with… joy?
your stomach feels a little bubbly and tingly with excitement as you watch this nerd, whom you've grown so accustomed to, become easily flustered and shy because of you.
“just say what's on your mind, jisung.” you say with a shrug. his eyes flicker at you for a second before looking to the ground.
“ok.. well…” he takes a deep breath. ”i like you and i always have and the reason why i got so pissed and called chan a whore, who i later found out was your childhood best friend, was because i was jealous of how close he was to you and i saw red and i didn't mean it. in fact, i've been cooped up in my bedroom in my own self-pity because i'm a coward and i don't deserve someone as wonderful as you and i’m really sorry. can you forgive me for being a lil silly?”
you blink at him several times. jisung dared take a breath during his little speech so all the information that has suddenly been laid on you, isn't going through your head right now.
“ah fuck.. i fucked up again, haven't i?” jisung shakes, his voice wavering as it breaks the tension in the air. his nerves shaking his body as a shaky hand picks at the skin around his fingernails. “god i knew i shouldn't have said anything. why did i take minho's dumb advice.”
“i… i don't know what to say, jisung. it's all so much.” you say in pure shock.
“oh, that's ok! i’m not looking for an answer right now. please, take your time. i just wanted you to know my true feelings and why i acted out. the last thing i want is for you to feel forced.”
“so let me get this straight. the reason you acted out is because you got jealous of chan, thinking that we were dating?” you watch jisung slowly nod his head, his cheeks turning pink; whether that's from embarrassment or from the harsh cold air. “and that you.. like me?”
jisung nods again. “silly, right?” he laughs, trying to soothe himself of the raging anxiety that's heavy in his heart and stomach.
“no.. no! not at all. i think it's kinda… cute.”
“cute?”
“yeah. i mean, well, being away from you has got me thinking about me, you and well.. us and how i feel.” jisung walks closer to you, closing the gap between you both.
“and how do you feel, yn?” you swallow a little. the atmosphere has suddenly shifted between you both. jisung is close to you, his body daring to press against you.
you can see every detail of his honey skin under the faint moonlight. the cold breeze sweeps between his hair strands. a faint hint of cinnamon and apple from his aftershave tickles and hugs your nose making you inhale deeply for more.
“at first, i was angry at you. i didn't understand why you were so angry. but i spoke to chan about it and during the conversation, he made me realise something.”
“what?” jisung encourages. he gingerly places his hands on your waist, unsure and testing the waters. his touch is as light as a feather and when you don't push him away, his grip becomes firm.
“that maybe, i like you too and i have for the longest time. i just never realised it because i thought you hated me but, when we spent all that time together, i started to notice the smallest of things about you and i found them to be so cute. but they're cute because it's you.”
you slowly run your hands up his chest to his shoulder. his breath hitches and body trembles from your touch. with more confidence, jisung pulls your body flush against his own, closing the gap completely.
“so, you like me too?” his voice dips to a whisper. you hum and nod slowly. “do you have any idea how happy that makes me?”
“why don't you show me.” you whisper against his lips, teasing him by brushing yours against his slowly and gently. they feel soft and plump, kissable even.
“you're playing a dangerous game, yn. you have no idea how long i've wanted you.”
“show me.” you whisper again, furthering your teasing by ever so lightly licking his bottom lip with the tip of your tongue.
“fuck.” jisung groans. his lips crash against yours in a heated kiss that's filled with longing. your eyes widen a little but are quick to flutter close. you melt into the kiss, the both of you becoming synchronised instantly.
you tilt your head to the side a little to allow jisung to deepen the kiss. he licks your bottom lip and you part your lips slowly.
his tongue slides in to meet yours and you're in a battle of dominance that you lose. jisung's hot kisses make you melt and crave for more. you forget about your surroundings, forget where you are. everything is a buzz in your ears and you can only focus on you, jisung and how your body is tingling and twitching.
jisung is the first to pull away. he pants heavily, his own body trembling with excitement.
“wow.” you hum in agreement. as soon as his lips are off yours, you want them back on you again; whether that's on your own lips or on your body, you don't care as long as you get to feel the softness again.
“is this real?” he asks.
“it's real.” you respond, giggling softly. “and i’m not drunk either so.”
“so, what does this make us?” jisung cautiously asks. he wants to have an idea of what you two are slowly becoming. he wants to make sure you're both on the same page.
“whatever you want us to be, jisung.”
“well, i want you to be mine. i want to show you off to the world, proudly. i want everyone to know that you belong to me. i want to spend every single second of the day with you and during the night, i want to spend every single second caressing your body from head to toe. i want to soak myself in every single bit of detail from your body. i want to drown you in pleasure and my love.”
you swallow and let out a small, shaky breath at the implications behind his words. your body trembles with excitement and anticipation from where tonight is going to end and for the future with jisung.
“then.. shall we go ditch the party and go back to mine? because i want that too.” with a fast nod of the head, jisung holds your hand and is quick to make way to yours.
“let's go and let's be quick. i want to make you mine, in more ways than one.”
#kwritersworldnet#wkcnet#straykidsland#skz fluff#stray kids fluff#han jisung#jisung#jisung fluff#han jisung fluff#han jisung x you#han jisung x reader#jisung x you#jisung x reader#skz x you#skz x reader#stray kids x reader#stray kids x you
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PARACOSM OF THE GODS.
PAIRING: gojo satoru x f!reader, geto suguru x f!reader | 11.5k words
SUMMARY: ok here we go, canon au, angst, fluff, best friends being in love, stsg being whipped but unable to express it, reader is clueless as usual, timeskips, canon compliant deaths, bittersweet, longing, mutual pining, emotionally stunted teens, dad!gojo makes an appearance, hopefully that’s it i'm tired of typing
RHEYA'S NOTE: highkey lowkey stressed posting bc this has been sitting in my wips for 4 years now. i honestly didn't have to add much to it i basically just proofread. but yeah when you maladaptive daydream and create a plot where you're a character in jjk and you're also in love with gojo and geto this is what happens. a little sad to let this go but it's time !! plus i can add more parts later. but anyways pls lmk what you think, i'm super curious to know <33
i. the unknown
satoru's first impression of you is anything but kind.
his words come casually, free into the wind without care, and they aren't meant for you to hear. instead, they fall only to suguru's ears, evoking a deep chuckle and a slight shake of his head. his bangs swish a little with the movement, but satoru is too busy eyeing you over the frame of his shades to notice.
you're lucky to have not heard it, because the intent with which it was said would have probably made your brow tick with frustration. he says it without a thought, as if he hasn't the slightest bit of interest in you as hints of arrogance fill his tone.
"who's the rookie?"
satoru and suguru sit outside against the patio railings of the classroom they had chosen for the day. it overlooks the grounds of the school, where they have a clear view of who approaches the main entrance. suguru absentmindedly clicks his lighter—shoko had gone to get another pack of cigarettes.
it is from this higher point that they have a clear view of you. you're so obviously new to this, satoru thinks as he watches how you awkwardly stand in front of yaga sensei.
he already wants to label you as a side character. it's mean, he realizes—cruel even, but he can barely bring himself to care.
"yaga sensei mentioned that there'd be a new student joining us this week," suguru says, fingering the bangs hanging in front of his eyes. they roam over you with only slight interest before uttering your full name, just as his teacher had said it.
satoru repeats it with a hum. "not a big name or anything. a small-sized family of sorcerers i think." he shrugs carelessly. "but honestly i never really paid attention to all those stupid clan and jujutsu family lessons."
suguru only responds with a good-natured chuckle, tearing his eyes away from the scene to look at his friend. "no shit."
the two sit in quiet silence, watching yaga's lips move in structured, emotionless greetings as he shakes your hand. satoru is especially focused on the hunching of your shoulders and the way your eyes nervously dart around.
suguru is the first to interrupt the peace.
"maybe she's strong?"
"are you kidding?" satoru scoffs as he stands up straight, shoving his fists into his pockets. he turns his nose up slightly. "that's not the attitude of someone who's confident in their abilities."
ii. routine
"can i ask you guys a question?"
a cool breeze tickles your skin, goosebumps rising in its wake, and you suppress a shiver. the smell of the air tells you winter is fast approaching.
"you just did," satoru hums, his snowy hair splayed out against stems of green grass. suguru's chuckle reverberates deep in his chest, and you have to push back an exasperated smile.
"another one then," you press, leaning over satoru's face to force yourself into his view. his blue eyes pierce through yours over the dark-rimmed frames of his glasses, and even after seeing them so many times, they still feel as dominating as the first. he hums again, and you take that as your cue.
"what did you first think of me when we met all those months ago?"
satoru sits up quickly, and you can already feel your shoulders dropping when you catch a glimpse of the teasing smirk on his lips. he shifts so that he's directly facing you, leaning close so that the two of you are barely a palm's distance from one another.
"thought you were an annoying little rookie~" he sings and you immediately shove at his shoulder.
"'m not a rookie anymore," you huff, and satoru laughs joyously. suguru only grins, his eyes darting between the two of you happily. satoru moves himself into a proper sitting position, digging his long fingers into your bag of chips and popping one into his mouth. you swat at his hand, even though you don't mean it, because though you complain about gojo satoru all the time, you would give him the whole world if you could.
you and satoru take turns reaching into the bag. you wonder if the sound of crunching disturbs suguru. he's not asleep—he's just doing that thing where he keeps his eyes closed and escapes to his own land of tranquility. you'd like to give him as much peace as you can, so you stay quiet. satoru does too, but you think that's just because you aren't talking to him.
the quiet is nice when you're with them. sometimes silence makes you feel alone—paranoid. it feels like there is some impending doom hovering over your shoulder, and all you can do is wait for it to come. but with them it is different. you know that any danger in the quiet will be caught by the two of them. maybe that's why it's so easy to let your guard down around them. you trust that they won't let you die.
"i thought you were weak," satoru pipes up after a few minutes of silence. "you didn't seem like you were confident in your abilities, and that's a sign of weakness."
after spending so much time with satoru and suguru, the word weak has permeated almost every one of your conversations. later you learned how much more significant it was for them to label someone as strong. you chase after the word—crave it.
"and turns out that wasn't true." suguru adds with a smile, his head leaning back against the trunk of the tree. his eyes are still closed serenely and you wonder if he can feel the way you're gazing at him.
"yeah and now you act like some big hotshot," satoru grumbles, as though he doesn't want to admit to his old mistake, but you can hear his smile. it annoys you, the way his once degrading little nickname has now somewhat turned into a term of endearment. you would rather die than admit that you like hearing him say it.
"well, I'm glad that i was able to prove you both wrong."
the conversation ends there.
shoko returns a few minutes later, tossing you a can of soda and suguru a pack of cigarettes. as soon as she sits down in her spot under the tree you're forcing your head into her lap and kicking your feet onto satoru's legs. you ignore his complaints, because you know that in just a little bit he'll quiet down and his hand will rest over your ankle, fingers soft but firm. they'll occasionally drum some rhythmic tune, or draw nonsensical patterns against your skin.
shoko's fingers thread through your hair, just like they always do, and you know that in a few minutes you'll doze off in her lap, just like you always do. it's clockwork, this thing that you have with them. they make the days keep going—time doesn't stop for you.
a part of you wishes you could freeze time at that moment.
but you can't.
iii. halcyon
"hey suguru?"
"hm?"
"how come you always do your hair the same way?"
suguru glances up from his book. he's seated at your desk, and for a minute, the breeze pushes your curtains so that they block your view of him. satoru groans lightly from your left, turning on his side to snuggle deeper into your pillow, and slumber overtakes him once more. him and shoko remain quiet, faces free of worry as they dream in a land that is so unlike the real world you live in.
"what do you mean?" suguru asks in response to your question. he has an amused smile on his face as he places his book on your desk, though his thumb and pointer finger keep his page.
"well…" you suddenly feel stupid for asking, but he's looking at you so intently now. "you have such nice hair. you could style it in so many different ways."
"are you saying you don't like my hair the way it is?" he frowns.
"no no!" you scramble, shaking your head emphatically. quite the opposite actually you think he's so so attractive—how on earth did you screw this up so badly? "that's not it i just—"
he laughs, tilting his head fondly. "i'm just messing with you, hotshot."
you blanch, before crossing your arms with a huff. "asshole…"
he chuckles, before lifting a calloused hand up to finger the tie that holds his hair in a bun. he glances back at you, before a michevious smile settles on his face. he gives the tie one sharp tug, and the bun falls away. black hair drops, resting on his shoulders, and you stare at him—oddly parched. wind brushes through the open window, tickling your curtains, tickling his now open hair. you had seen his hair down before, of course. in the few seconds after a sparring session when the bun had gotten loose, or when too many strands escaped the tie and fell in front of his face (he always pushed them away with an agitated huff). but now he looks different—good, you realize. he looks good.
"how should i style it then, hotshot?"
his question shakes you out of your daze. you hum in contemplation. "i don't know."
he laughs quietly, as to not wake the other two. "didn't you just say there were so many ways to style it? enlighten me then," he teases, reaching over to grab a small scrap of paper from your desk. he slots it where his fingers are holding place, and then closes the book. he swivels in the chair to face you completely, rolling over so that he's right in front of you.
"well…" you start, biting your lip in thought. "a ponytail maybe?"
suguru bunches his hair into his fist, holding it up against his head. "and? how do i look?"
you grin, eyeing the new style with a stifled laugh. "fantastic."
he laughs again, louder this time, before dropping his hand.
"it looked good though!" you laugh and he rolls his eyes fondly.
"yeah yeah," he dismisses with a wave of his hand. he looks back at you, eyes tracing over your hair before he grins wide.
"i like yours."
you blink. "mine?"
"the way you did your hair today," he points to the half up-half down style you've thrown together. a dark blue ribbon holds the hair in place—satoru had said it matched nicely with your uniform. suguru's eyes gleam as he appraises it. "it's nice. it looks really pretty on you."
something in your chest feels like it fell off a cliff.
"oh—" you stumble, before smiling at him because that's all you can do when he makes you feel like this. "thanks suguru."
"do mine like that," he says quickly.
once again, you blink owlishly and all you can manage is a stupid "huh?"
"do my hair like that," he repeats, getting up from the chair to sit at your feet, back towards you. he crosses his legs and puts his hands in his lap, patiently waiting.
"you can't do it yourself?" you tease, scooting closer to the edge of the bed.
"i can," he replies and you can hear the easy smile in his voice. "but i want you to do it for me."
"okay then!" you laugh before gently parting sections of his hair out. and then you work in silence, putting more effort into his hair than you've ever done with your own.
iv. fragility
"lady riko does not have any relations. when she was young, her family was involved in an accident…since then, i've been her caretaker. so please let her at least spend time with her fr—"
"—so that makes you her family then."
suguru's words seem to stun kuroi, the weight of riko's situation finally making itself clear as her face crumbles.
"…yes."
you listen to the way her voice wobbles, and try to suppress the poisonous lump forming in your throat.
"then we do everything we can to make her happy," you say solemnly, leaving no room for argument. suguru seems to agree and says nothing—some deeper part of you feels something more than thankful towards him.
"you're awfully sensitive for a jujustu sorcerer, you know that?" satoru comments offhandedly. you turn to look at him, meeting his piercing gaze over dark rims.
"maybe," you concur. "is that considered weak?"
satoru seems to ponder his answer, before shrugging, a light smile on his face. "to some people, maybe."
you manage to smile back, and he takes in the expression with an odd look on his face. "say what you want, satoru. but you agree with me, don't you?"
he looks away, eyes gazing out to the distance where you know riko is currently in class with her friends, trying to live the life she wants, and something in them softens considerably.
"we'll do things the way she wants us to."
it's one sentence, said without a smile or laugh, but hearing it fall from satoru's lips makes you beam at him.
that's just your kindness, isn't it, satoru?
your heart leaps when you notice the tips of his ears tinge with rouge.
v. longing
riko's hand is warm against the coolness of your fingers. your body feels hyperaware of your surroundings, toes deep in hot sand and salty air sticking to your skin. for some odd reason, you can't seem to relax. unconsciously, you tighten your grip around the young girl's palm. she glances up at you, but when you look down at her, she's wearing the biggest smile you've ever seen.
satoru's presence makes itself known behind you—his shadow looms over yours in the sand. "it'll be fine," he says.
you can't see his face, nor can you see suguru who stands at his side, but your shoulders drop slightly, and you find yourself smiling back at riko.
"i'm getting in the water!" she squeals eagerly, before dragging a helpless kuroi with her. satoru laughs—a clear, pristine sound—and follows after her. you watch the three of them with a fond smile, something akin to content settling deep within you.
"and what are you planning on doing?" suguru asks. you turn to look at him, watching the way his heavy eyes stay focused on you.
"hmm," you quirk a brow mischievously. "build sandcastles with me?"
suguru blinks owlishly before he breaks out into a good-natured laugh.
"deal." he walks closer to the water's edge, where the sand is damper, and crouches down. he turns to look at you over his shoulder. "don't make me do all the work, hotshot."
you stand there, taking him in—really taking him in. he's just as clear as the sky behind him, and the sun shining on his face makes his smile glow. you want him to continue smiling at you like that well into the future. the waves crash onto the shore, as though the ocean is chasing his radiance, and an overwhelming feeling of unfiltered affection swells in your chest.
your feet carry you forward, and you think that they might always lead you back to him.
the sun rises as time passes, and occasionally you spare a glance at satoru and riko, who are screaming as they splash water at one another. and then you catch a glimpse of kuroi, who stands with her feet in the water, a soft smile on her face.
and in that moment, nothing can be ruined.
"what's wrong?" suguru's voice calls out, and you tear your gaze away from the others to look back at him. he stands behind you with two strawberry ice cream cones in his hands.
"nothing," you hum, a serene smile on your face. "everything's perfect."
his eyes trace your face, stopping to linger on your smile, and they soften. "it is, isn't it?"
he turns to the ocean, watching satoru and riko, and his eyes sparkle. "i hope it stays like this always."
"me too."
he bends down to take his place at your side before he hands you a cone. you take it from him. suguru's eyes drift away from you to look down at his castle.
"i think it looks great," he expresses, before taking a lick of his ice cream.
you roll your eyes with a huff. "yeah, because you made it look so nice. you're unnecessarily good at this, suguru."
he laughs, waving his hand dismissively. "no no, we did it together! and yours is nice too!"
"maybe," you grin, looking at his castle. "but yours is extra pretty."
he smiles back, before pointing at a small hole in his sand tower. "see this room? it's yours."
"mine?" you chuckle.
"yeah, all yours," he hums softly. "this is my castle and you get your own room."
"oh? and why's that?"
suguru's gaze lingers on you, and his dark eyes soften considerably. "because you'll always have a place in my home."
you stare at him, speechless—something hammers away at the inner crevices of your chest.
"and this one—" he points to another hole a few inches away from the first. "—is my room."
"well in that case, that room is mine too!" you declare.
"what?" he barks out a laugh. "how does that work?"
"well…" you grin at him, the sun burning into your cheeks. "because my home is wherever you are!"
suguru's cheeky smile fades and his eyes widen. he looks at you, mouth agape, and you're about to say something else before sticky coolness trickles down your wrist.
"ack!" you hurry to wipe away the strawberry ice cream dripping down your skin and you completely miss the red that creeps up his neck and seeps into his ears.
vi. ice bath
shoko's fingers are unbelievably soft. you're grateful that you were unconscious through most of her procedures on your battered body—you don't think you would've handled the pain too well. she's quiet as she works over the large wound that now covers almost half of your torso. the man with the scar on his lip had done quite the number on you, and you don't think you'll ever forget the searing ache of his blade slicing through your flesh. he had left you in a bloodied pile, isolated, and you hadn't seen what had happened to suguru after the man shot riko. you could only lay there, vision swimming as a bitter taste filled your mouth—a reminder of the life you failed to protect.
the pain had been the only thing you could focus on, until satoru was on his knees at your side and tightly gripping your shoulders. your hazy focus was drawn to his lips as he spewed curses and insults at you.
"why didn't you run away, you little shit," he had shouted, a feral look in his eyes. there was something different about him—a change in his very being that you could see even in the throes of death. "shoko's coming, do you hear me? for fuck's sake, keep your eyes open, hotshot!"
you swore you saw his eyes shine behind that look of uncontrolled anger. he had been talking a mile a minute and your focus had waned until you could only see his lips move, no sound reaching your ears.
you've never thought satoru looked more godly than he did at that moment.
suguru eventually found his way into your field of vision—knelt at satoru's side. his large hand had squeezed your limp fingers in a death grip. he was sweating, and his eyes were darting back and forth between your pale face and bloodied torso, something akin to guilt swimming in them. you wished that you had the strength in you to squeeze his hand in return. the last thing you remember seeing is his dark hair falling in front of his face as he turned to shout at whoever was approaching.
now you're awake. disoriented and bleary, but awake, and all you can look at is the way shoko's bangs fall over her furrowed brows. she's taken care of the bleeding, and now all that's left is a dull throbbing, reminding you of how close you had toed the line with death. you don't know this yet, but the scar will remain for the rest of your life, and that dull throbbing will be a permanent reminder of your narrow escape.
shoko hasn't said a word since she noticed your eyelids flutter open. you want to ask her so many things. important things that cannot wait:
where's satoru? how about suguru? i saw them both. satoru's alive, right? and suguru, too? the man—with the scar. where did he go? he said that satoru—riko….where is riko? and—and kuroi…i—i..couldn't save riko. when did you get here, shoko? and why am i the only one who's being taken care of by you?
you want to ask her. but she's making a very odd expression as her hands ghost over your body. you've never seen it before, this odd quirking of her lips. her teeth sink into the bottom one, and she chews and bites and nibbles like it's some kind of nervous tell.
"shoko?"
it's all you can manage to say—all you dare. your voice is dry, shaky, and sounds almost foreign to your ears. you're going to ask more, at least one of those thousand questions you had asked in your head earlier, but you don't get to because she speaks before you.
"shut up," she spits, and the wobble in her voice has you pinching your lips shut and feeling closer to death than you did before.
vii. acid rain
the sound of clapping is deafening. you don't think you've ever heard a sound so horrid in your life before, and you feel as though your ears are bleeding heavily. you can faintly make out the conversation between satoru and suguru, your ears struggling to pick out the tones of their voices.
"no…" you hear suguru say quietly. "it doesn't matter if I'm fine…"
you can feel satoru's eyes roam over your motionless body, watching the way you gaze out into the crowd impassively.
"let's get out of here, guys."
your feet carry you numbly, and you aren't aware of anything except the way riko's arm is swinging in front of you lifelessly. there are no mirrors around—no way of catching the track of tears cutting over your cheeks. the places where the salt touches burn like acid. you say nothing.
satoru's gaze feels intrusive. he doesn't need to ask you anything—he just knows. it's like your body is radiating the emotions tumbling around in your gut.
you're awfully sensitive for a jujutsu sorcerer, you know that?
"do you want to…kill them all?"
the question stuns you, and for the first time, you can shake yourself out of your daze to look at satoru directly. blood is smeared over the left side of his face, cerulean eyes dimmed, as though something had pulled the shine out of them. red seeps into the fine hairs of his restless eyebrows.
"right now, i probably wouldn't even feel anything," he continues, staring at you listlessly.
you think satoru might be feeling just as numb as you are. you don't know what happened to him yet. the last you had heard, gojo satoru had been killed by the man with the scar. he had boasted about it to you before he attempted to kill you too. but then satoru was at your side again, completely alive as he ran your battered body to shoko like a crazed man.
you'll find out later who the man with the scar on his lip was, and what kind of legacy he had left behind. but for right now, all you see is a teenager with the weight of the world on his shoulders, and you know your answer.
satoru could help the pain go away; he'd be able to make the clapping stop—maybe then your ears wouldn't bleed anymore. but you couldn't ask that of him.
"forget it. it's pointless," suguru mutters, and you're glad he's on the same page as you. not because any of these people deserve pity, but because satoru deserves a break—one less burden for him to carry.
you hear suguru say more, but you can't focus. you continue to listen to the sound of the clapping, and once again lose yourself as you stare at riko's bloodied fingertips.
"pointless, huh?" satoru mumbles in response to suguru's answer. "does there need to be a reason?"
"of course. it's important," suguru's voice doesn't carry the same pleasant tone it always does. instead, it sounds strained, and tired beyond belief. unsure. "especially as jujutsu sorcerers."
satoru doesn't respond, but you know that he's measuring the weight of his friend's words. that's how it was with the two of them. they both balance each other out—their moral compasses influenced by one another. but then you feel satoru look up from riko's body and turn to you. suguru follows suit, and before you can wonder why, it hits you: satoru had asked you both.
you suck a deep breath in, feeling unusually breathless. the flesh of your stomach tingles with a painful reminder of what might've been, and you make up your mind.
"killing them won't change anything," you say, breaking your silence. the tears on your cheeks have dried, but they leave a rigid trail in their wake—a trail that still stings. "let's just leave it at that."
viii. fever dreams
satoru lies next to you.
a few nights have passed since riko's death, and you've chosen to stay holed up in your room. you're not sure why—death has always played a big role in your life. you don't understand why it's different this time.
tonight is different as well. while you've maintained a distance from everyone since that day, save for classes and passing by people on school grounds, today you've decided to let someone in. satoru's the lucky one, mostly because he would've pestered you until you opened your door for him anyway.
it's strange though. he had knocked over and over, and when you finally opened up with a snappy jab at his annoying personality, he had brushed straight past you and laid across your bed. he hadn't said a word since then, and you've found yourself lying next to him in silence for quite a while.
his hand stretches out in the darkness and you can feel his fingertips brush over the skin of your arm. it's delicate, like he's testing his limits, but you understand. it's just to ground himself—to know that you're still here, with him. to be sure that you're still alive.
you think the scar that goes down your body bothers him a lot more than it bothers you.
"'m here," you mumble sleepily. your fingers reach up to bump against his knuckles, and you hear him inhale deeply. his voice is throaty when he replies.
"i know."
ix. doubt
satoru learns that you've never been kissed before and he teases you for it.
not in a mean way, but in a way that has your cheeks heating and your eyes avoiding his. suddenly it feels like the gap between ages 16 and 17 is huge. he's barely even a year older than you and you're in the same year, but it feels as though he knows so much more about the world than you do. you want to ask suguru if it's bad that you've never had a kiss, but you don't. suguru rarely talks these days. sometimes he'll have conversations with you but won't look in your eyes when he speaks.
"hey listen, hotshot. if you don't get a kiss by…" satoru hums, an eager smile on his face as he swings an arm around your shoulders and contemplates his words. "…let's say 27, then i'll give one to you!"
there's an odd note of glee in his voice.
"shut up, toru," you groan, heat flooding your cheeks. "quit joking around."
he laughs loudly, pulling your cheek teasingly. "aw, i'm just playing. it's not a bad thing i promise!"
your shoulders relax slightly as the snowy-haired sorcerer continues to speak.
"i just thought that you would've kissed someone by now," he shrugs. "wasn't there that one guy you went on a few dates with? the one you met when we went to yokohama?"
there's an almost sour expression on his face as he speaks, but you're too frustrated to care. "just because i went on a couple of dates with him doesn't mean i kissed him!"
a broad teasing smile appears on satoru's face. "is that so?"
"ugh, i'm only 16!" you hiss, shoving him away from you. "besides i'm saving it for someone special!"
"good," you hear suguru speak up, and you turn to look at him. his fingers are interlocked, elbows resting on his knees, and he's staring down at his hands like they hold the answers to some deep questions he has. "it is something irreplaceable after all."
x. shadow
satoru's grin is proud as he stands before the three of you, his loose shirt billowing in the summer breeze.
you stare at him, heart thumping as shoko lets out a confused gasp. "huh? what the hell was that?"
"did it automatically choose the target for your technique?" suguru asks.
"yep!" satoru stresses the word, spinning the pencil suguru had thrown as he explains. "though i am the target. i've pretty much automated what i used to have to do manually."
your head is spinning.
"now i can tell an object's danger levels based the strength of its cursed energy, its speed, mass, velocity, shape—whatever. i want to be able to discern poisons too but that's pretty hard right now." satoru's voice is even when he explains, though you can make out the hints of pride that permeate his tones. you think his voice has gotten a little deeper too. "basically this is gonna allow me to keep my limitless technique active all the time!"
"that's gonna fry your brain!" shoko interjects, shaking her hair out of her eyes.
"yeah but i can do it while i continuously generate energy on my own. that way my brain stays fresh."
you can't help but let out an amused scoff. "what brain?"
satoru chucks the eraser at you, and you laugh as it bounces off your shoulder harmlessly.
"i've been working on shortening my hand signals so i can activate red and blue simultaneously." he continues, lips twitching upward as he gives you an exaggerated glare. "after this the only things i need to work on are domain expansion and long-distance teleportation. which i should be able to do if we set up some training courses here at school."
you think if someone examined you closely, they would see the stars in your eyes when you look at satoru.
"shoko~" he calls out, grinning eagerly. "think you could get me some lab rats?"
shoko groans as satoru bounds over to pester her more emphatically. you watch him, thinking you've never seen a person quite so magnificent.
god personified into a 17-year-old body. and yet it is a body that stays so close to you—well within your reach. maybe there's nothing so godly about that at all.
"don't you get tired of getting stronger and stronger, jeez?" you complain, crossing your arms as you raise a brow at him. satoru wets his lips as he throws you a smug smile.
"don't worry hotshot, you'll catch up to me someday!" he gives you an exaggerated wink over the frames of his glasses, and you shake your head somewhat fondly.
"no way! i never want to be at your level," you huff. "i'm very comfortable living in your shadow, thank you very much!"
a strange look passes over his face, almost puzzled, but the dip in his brows melts away as he approaches you. "well—" he slings an arm over your shoulder. "if my shadow makes you happy then you're more than welcome to stay there."
you don't have time to reply. pale lashes flutter at you—a backdrop of cerulean. you think white and blue may be the prettiest combination of colors in the world.
"suguru?" satoru's voice is casual, yet the amusement has dropped from it. his arm is heavy around your shoulders. "have you lost weight? are you okay?"
you look up, seeing tired eyes behind dark stands of hair. suguru's cheekbones are prominent, and you have the sudden urge to reach out and trace your fingers over them.
his lips twitch upward weakly. "it's just the summer heat…"
his lavender eyes drift to your face as he says it, and he tilts his head as he scrutinizes your worried expression. "…i'll be fine."
xi. hellfire
you hear suguru before you see him.
his breaths come loud as he pushes the door to the morgue open, the metal clanging heavily. his eyes bore into your back, taking in your clenched fists and raised shoulders that seem to tremble.
you wonder who told suguru you'd be here. maybe nanami, who was here not long ago, and had sent you a text that merely said: the mission went badly.
or maybe it was satoru, who had been chatting with you near the entrance of campus when he saw the myriad of emotions pass over your face as you read the text. he had probably called suguru as soon as you left.
it doesn't matter—you can't bring yourself to care.
you can only think about the way haibara had smiled at you before he left that morning.
now that smile is covered by a dirty white sheet, and you can't tear your eyes away from it. the taste of blood and vomit is heavy on your tongue.
suguru says your name quietly. you can't even look at him—you're scared that you'll cry if you do.
you don't ever want to cry in front of him. or satoru—so weak in front of those who are so strong.
"he asked if i wanted to go with them and i said no because i was lazy," you hiss, teeth clenched as you spit out the words with venom. "if i had just stopped thinking about myself for a second—"
your fingers dig into the flesh of your palms—deep, deep, deeper.
you hear suguru click his tongue, and his hands wrap around yours. he yanks your fingers apart fiercely, thumbs smoothing over the bloodied indents you've made in your own skin. you tear your eyes away from the body to finally look at him.
"don't—" his breath catches as his thumbs still over your flesh, eyes going hard as he takes in the blood.
he blurs in and out of focus. his head whips up when he hears you sniffle, and his lips slant ruefully. "you—"
"i'm fine," you interrupt, blinking pointedly and taking a deep breath. "it's fine—i mean it's not fine—but i c—"
"stop." suguru grabs your shoulders, giving you an even stare. you don't know how you didn't notice it before, but he looks thinner, older. there are dark circles under his eyes—poison seeping into his skin. "you need to rest."
you stare back at him silently, but you don't feel like you agree. something about this is making you feel restless, like there is so much you need to make up for. his grip tightens, before he's wordlessly leading you to take a seat—he finds his place next to you.
"satoru took over the mission." he stares at the lifeless body on the table as he speaks. you lower your gaze.
"and nanami?" your throat feels like it's closing. suguru inhales deeply.
"he went back to the dorms."
"okay."
you try to figure out if there is any meaning in having this conversation. despite everything, weren't you expected to wake up tomorrow morning and head out on a mission once more? and when you return, you're sure that there'll be another faceless body taking haibara's place.
the cycle continues—clockwork. it scares you, just how replaceable you are.
haibara, nanami, you, another, nameless—interchangeable.
not like satoru. not like suguru. not like the strong.
you lean your head against suguru's shoulder, fingering the hem of your uniform skirt. the fabric is cool to the touch—it seems darker, heavier. heat radiates from the body next to you, and there's something about him that's making your stomach churn with nerves. "suguru?"
his voice sounds far away. "hm?"
"are you okay?"
he stiffens and you suddenly fear you've said too much—nosy, intruding, out of place. you stumble. "it's just, we haven't talked much lately."
"i'm fine," he answers, and you can hear a smile in his voice—whether it's real or fake you can't tell. "just a little tired."
you know there is truth to this. but it scares you, how this tiredness of his has lingered for months. you don't know how to tell him that.
"okay…" your voice is barely a whisper, heavy with unspoken words that you don't know how to formulate. somehow you find that silence has always been your only option.
but like usual, silence with suguru has never once been uncomfortable.
haibara's smile burns behind your eyelids.
"it should be a relatively simple mission. if you're not doing anything today senpai, would you like to come with us?"
his voice tickles your ears.
"that's alright! i'll get going then! oh right, today's mission is a little farther than usual, so we'll probably be back late! what would you like me to bring back for you?"
hypoxia crushes your lungs, your blood burns. selfish selfish selfish. you've only ever cared about yourself.
suguru's arm curls around your shoulder before you even realize you're crying. his palm is warm as it smooths over your hair, and all you can worry about tainting him with your ridiculous tears.
you don't ever want to burden him—just want to quietly live in his shadow.
"i don't—" you internally cringe at the throaty rasp of your voice, swiping a hand at your nose. "i shouldn't be so sensitive about—"
"it's not your fault." he quietly hushes you, grip tightening imperceptibly. through your tears you can see him adam's apple bob, and for some reason that makes you feel worse. you're too scared to look at his expression, even though his voice is resolute. "none of this is our fault."
something has changed in the way he speaks now. something has settled, a confirmation of some idea that has been brewing for a long time now.
you don't say another word, but somehow he manages to sear himself into your very being. he's warm, and fuzzy, and he smells like sandalwood and incense.
you don't know how long suguru let's you pathetically sob into his shoulder.
but you think you're embarrassed that he has taken pity on a wounded animal's cries.
xii. split
he looks different, but also the same. you've seen him wear that sweater before. it's plain black, no patterns, and you know that there's a loose string on the inside of the left sleeve that he was always too lazy to cut. you've always liked that sweater—always liked the way he looked in it.
you liked it so much that you've even stolen it a few times yourself.
but now it looks different. older and dirtier—as though soiled by some unknown curse.
that's what everything came down to, right? curses.
suguru stands in front of you, almost no trace of emotion on his handsome face, and his expression makes you want to turn and run. you miss the calm serenity that normally graced his features, wishing that you had some kind of cursed technique that could turn back time. but you aren't blessed like that—you wonder what sin you might've committed in a past life that made you so unlucky in this one.
"you look confused," he comments. you reel at how casually he speaks to you, like it's just another afternoon sitting under that stupid tree. like he's leaning his head back against the trunk and watching you and satoru bicker with that fond look in his eye.
"suguru," you speak, an odd strain in your voice. you struggle to comprehend this odd turn of events. you've had time to understand that he's now a different person than the one you once knew. you know that he's responsible for killing 112 innocents, including his own parents. you know that he's now an enemy to jujutsu society and you know that you should kill him right at this moment.
but he looks so much like suguru, like your suguru, that you can only manage to stand there, frozen in place. his eyes drift over your body, taking in your pajamas, the bath towel in your hands, and the small drops that trickle from your hair, and you can see the familiarity settle in his expression.
"why are you here?" you choke out. you feel an overwhelming sense of danger in your gut, knowing that your family is just a few rooms over from where he stands now.
"at your family home, you mean?" he asks casually. a small, almost amused smirk appears on his face. "you said i was always welcome."
you did say that. sometime last year or the year before, when you had invited satoru, suguru, and shoko over to visit during one of your quick holidays. suguru had sat across from you at your dinner table. he complimented the food and your father smiled one of his rare smiles. you had chewed quietly to hide your grin.
you don't know what to say to him now.
"everything they said about you," you whisper, taking a step toward him. he remains rooted in place, but his eyes follow your movements. they shift when he catches your fingers gripping your towel tighter. "is it true?"
"do you think it is?" he asks, and you gulp. it feels like he's baiting you into some kind of trap.
"i don't want to believe that it is," you answer, voice shaking. "that you would ever do something so…"
the sentence hangs in the air, and he tilts his head imperceptibly. something in his eyes changes as he focuses on the drops falling over your shoulders.
"well i'm sorry to squash your hope," he raises his arms in a shrug. "but everything you heard is completely true."
your head aches, but you're not surprised by his confirmation. "why would you…?"
suguru hums, a dark look falling over his face. "do you remember the conversation we had after haibara's funeral? do you remember what i told you when he died?"
anger flares in your gut at the mention of haibara, and the bath towel crumples in your hold. "don't say his name," you hiss through gritted teeth. "don't act like he's the reason—just…don't bring him into this. please."
suguru licks his lips, eyes going soft before he tries again.
"everything used to make sense back then," he sighs. "back when the strong existed to protect the weak. but it's not true."
"suguru—"
"the reason why we suffer is because of them," he interjects evenly, though frustration is clearly evident in the curve of his brows and the volume of his voice. "we clean up their messes. they create problems and we die for it."
you're stunned into silence, at the way he's raising his voice at you, at the way he's speaking so firmly about this horrible topic, at everything. he seems to realize the effect of his speech, and he quells his anger to speak quieter. "that's why i'm doing this. i'm going to create a world without non-sorcerers, so that sorcerers like you and i can live peacefully."
a lump forms in your throat because god, he's right. he's so right. your life would be a thousand times better without curses. non-sorcerers were the reason curses existed. but the way he's going about this…
"suguru," your voice shakes, but you press on. "i get it. i really do—"
"i know you do," he interrupts. "you always have. even back then…"
he takes a step closer to you, reaching out to finger the towel in your hands. "but you don't agree with the way i'm doing it, right?"
you bite your lip, and he smiles at the sadness in your expression. "you're so easy to read, hotshot."
you ignore the way the nickname stings. "i just—how could you kill innocent people like that? your own parents, suguru."
he looks away from you, steely resolve in his eyes. "if i made exceptions for my parents, that would kinda make me a hypocrite, wouldn't it?"
you don't know what to say to that. he doesn't seem to have anything else to add either.
he looks around your old bedroom, eyes sparkling as they catch a picture of the four of you from your first year. satoru's arm is slung around shoko. the dark-haired female has her elbow resting on your shoulder, her tongue sticking out playfully. you're clinging to suguru's arm, and satoru's free hand is squishing your cheeks together. the four of you are laughing.
nobody has laughed in a while now.
you tear your gaze away from the picture frame to look at him. he's so unbelievably close, and he's gazing down at you with this foreign look in his eyes, the picture forgotten behind him.
he slips his fingers into your hair. his palm is large enough that it can brush the side of your face, and you wonder why your body doesn't flinch away from those bloodstained hands.
"it's okay," he mumbles, a faraway look in his eyes. they remain trained on your hair, but it feels like he's looking straight through you. like you're nothing more than a ghost he wants to erase. he's so close—you can count his dark lashes as they brush against his cheeks. "it's difficult. i don't expect you to understand."
his words incite a sudden flare of anger in your gut. it burns something fierce, and in that moment you hate him.
"no, i don't," you reply indignantly. he pauses, now really looking at you, and his brows quirk upward in what seems to be surprise, because—well, he's never seen you make such an expression at him before. "you never tried to help me understand. you just left."
a strained silence follows. his fingers twitch against your cheek.
"this doesn't concern you," he says finally. "i don't need you to understand my actions."
you recoil, as though he's physically hurt you, and your expression falls so hard that it almost makes him regret saying it. almost.
"if it doesn't concern me, then why are you here?" you ask again, and you see suguru's shoulders drop. "you know that i have orders to kill you. i might not be able to because you've always been stronger than me. but you know that i'll…"
go down fighting you, is what you want to say, but the words leave a nasty taste in your mouth. but suguru seems to know what you're implying because a wry smile appears on his lips. his fingers twirl a strand of your wet hair.
"i'm here to say goodbye," he says finally. another tense silence fills the space between you both, and suguru can see the way your fingers shake between the folds of your towel.
"you're a little bit late for that, aren't you?" you choke out, a strange tilt to your voice as you break eye contact with him. "you left school weeks ago, and you didn't say a word to me then."
"better late than never, right?"
the softness in his tone makes you turn to look at him again, and you desperately want to ingrain the features of his face into your head. the gentle slope of his eyes and sweetness of his smile. he almost looks like the suguru you once knew, and you suddenly have the urge to mourn his death.
his face becomes blurry, the edges becoming less pronounced, and you can see the way his expression falls.
"i didn't come all the way here to make you cry." his hand drops from your face and he takes a step back. your fingers hurry to wipe at your waterline, and you shake your head.
"'m not crying."
suguru smiles ruefully, and his eyes suddenly look devoid of life. he takes another step back—your heart plummets.
he says your name once, quietly, and it hangs in the air as you wait for him to say more.
he doesn't.
"you know that I'm not supposed to let you leave alive, right?" you mumble, fingers toying with the towel in your hand. "but i can't—i mean—"
"hm," he chuckles. "still as sensitive as ever, huh? s'okay…"
he moves toward you again and his hand gently cups the back of your neck. "i think it's your best quality. makes you better than most people in our world."
he presses his lips to your forehead tenderly, and you feel your eyes widen behind your tears.
you probably could've stopped him, because you're aware that he's now suddenly behind you, and that he's raising his hand. you can stop him, but a part of you thinks that if it's death at suguru's hands, maybe it's not such a bad way to go.
you accept your fate then and there.
you'll find out later that suguru never had the intention to kill you then. perhaps he was waiting for a more opportune time, waiting for there to be a meaning behind it. you're not sure. but when you wake up tucked in your bed cozily, you'll feel the remnants of him lingering around you.
he was warm, and fuzzy, and he smelled like sandalwood and incense.
xiii. sanctify
satoru's at your door again.
you've memorized his knock patterns. he always knocks three times, then leaves a pause, then twice more. for someone so erratic, he can be quite predictable.
"what's up, satoru?" you call out, not looking up from your busy hands. there are a couple of empty cardboard boxes open on your bed, and you've been placing things into them all morning. things that should've been put away a long time ago. you pause on one of your old test papers, and in suguru's dark, blocky handwriting you read:
YOU GOTTA STUDY MORE DUMBASS.
underneath it, satoru had scrawled:
hotshot failing class now huh? :P
and shoko had added:
both of you stfu you're failing too
you had drawn a heart next to her name.
"whatcha doin'?" a familiar voice chirps. "spring cleaning?"
satoru stands directly behind you, peering over your shoulder. you can practically feel his aura shift when he notices the items you're putting away.
"cleaning of some sort," you sigh, before turning to look over your shoulder. "i've been…putting it off."
he doesn't move—just continues to stare down at the paper in your hands. you think maybe you shouldn't have let him in. sometimes you forget that satoru might have his own sensitivities—you've always viewed him as the strongest.
a few strands of his hair tickle your cheek, and you scrunch your nose in response. he then turns to you, eyes blinding as he studies you over the frames of his shades.
"want help?"
"please." you don't intend to sound so needy, but the way you whisper the word has him immediately grabbing your wrist and sitting you down next to him on the bed.
"how are we sorting this stuff?" he asks, his voice oddly calm. he hasn't let go of your arm yet, and some quiet part of you is grateful.
"i was putting our old school stuff in that box. books, papers…" you answer softly, and satoru nods in understanding. "and in the other box…"
you inhale deeply through your nose. satoru waits, strangely patient. you're not sure if you're imagining it, but you think he squeezes your wrist.
"…are all of suguru's things."
there's a moment of silence—a quick mourning for what is no longer there.
"it's stupid stuff that he left behind, you know?" you chuckle, even though nothing is funny. "some old shirts from when you two would sleep over, his old textbooks, a few pictures from our holidays—shit like that."
satoru hums. he's not looking at you—instead he's staring at the box, a frown on his face.
"i guess he didn't really need those things for where he was going. or for wherever he is now," you mumble.
"guess not."
you're not sure what's going through his head. satoru's reaction to suguru leaving had been chaotic at best. it was so hard to tell how he felt about it. you knew he was angry, confused, betrayed. but he never showed things like that. you think it might have to do with being the strongest. you're not sure though—you never were strong like him.
you wish there was a way to tell him that he could share his feelings with you, but you can't think of a way that won't be awkward.
a ticklish sensation crawls up your wrist and you look down to watch satoru's first two fingers tap against the inside of your palm. his thumb brushes against yours as he lets out a heavy exhale.
"let's get started then, hotshot."
he looks down at you as he says the words, and you think you might cry. but you want to be strong, like him, so you offer him a smile. he gives you one in return. you realize there isn't that much warmth in it, not like it used to have—you're sure that yours isn't that warm either.
but it's enough for the two of you.
"you look tired, toru," you chuckle wryly, reaching up to brush a few strands of hair from his face. his eyes flutter at the touch, and you honestly think this might be the most vulnerable you've ever seen him.
"so do you."
"i am," you admit honestly.
"'s okay," he mumbles. his fingers tap against your palm once more. "'m here."
"i know," you answer. you always are.
nothing more is said as satoru stands up. he makes his way over to your desk and pulls one of suguru's old sweaters from your chair. you watch him fold it neatly, smoothing out the creases with care, before placing it into the box—you smile once more.
you think the scent of sandalwood tickles your nose, but it's gone in an instant.
both of you work in relative silence, sorting through the things in your room quickly. you're surprised at how bare it looks as you're nearing the end, as though there's nothing more to your life than old high school recollections.
you finish putting the last few polaroids into the box when satoru speaks up.
"hey."
you look up and find him staring at you, so you turn to face him completely, giving him your full attention.
"zenin toji—" the name sends a painful tingle up your body. "—left something behind."
you frown. "what are you talking about?"
"a kid. he's got a kid. and i was gonna go meet him today," satoru shrugs. you try to read his emotions, but as usual, he's giving you nothing. "the old man said something about the zenin clan buying up his kid before i killed him. i was gonna go see if there's something i could do about that."
you sigh before raising a brow, an amused lilt to your voice. "and why have you kept this a secret?"
satoru's trademark smirk appears, and he walks over to sling an arm around your shoulders. "who knows?" he quips nonchalantly. "guess i was waiting until we were bored. we need something to do now, don't we?"
you glance at the packed boxes on your bed, and then look around your empty room. everything is always changing, but satoru is constant.
"i guess so," you grin. his eyes shine, and for a second you see a familiar teenager at the beach, and then a familiar teenager under an old tree. you think you hear waves, and the crinkling of a bag of chips.
"good," he chirps, walking you to the door, the arm around your shoulder secure. "his name's megumi, and we're gonna make sure he gets strong."
xiv. idyll
it takes you a little over four months to get used to megumi's eyes. they aren't unsettling or invading, like a certain snowy haired sorcerer, but they do give you chills when you first notice them. chills and a fleeting feeling of metal slicing up and down through your flesh. you just have to steady your breathing and remind yourself that the son is not the father.
tsumiki is an angel. you didn't think that kids that age could be so emotionally competent, but she's a pleasant surprise. she had been awfully protective over megumi, fidgeting with a firm hand on his shoulder as you and satoru invaded their space and upturned their lives. even after they had settled into the humble apartment satoru had purchased, tsumiki was still so overly cautious. it was obvious she still didn't trust either of you, but you thought it was admirable of her, and you relay this thought to satoru one day.
"think they hate us?" he asks, squishing his cheeks between his lithe fingers as he eyes the different milk cartons over the rims of his glasses.
"i'm pretty sure they just don't trust us that much," you reply, placing a few packs of instant ramen into the cart. "can you blame them? we're just random strangers who came up and basically kidnapped them."
"i'd like to say adopted!" he points out with a grin, before he sighs. "but we've already proved we're just doing this to help them. but they still barely talk at all."
"they're just being careful. megumi's still a little young and he looks like he doesn't give a shit about most stuff anyway," you chuckle as you remember the expression on the first grader's face as he spoke to your cocky friend. "and tsumiki's being cautious for both of them."
"she doesn't need to be cautious of us!" satoru dramatically whines, pulling out a carton of whole milk and placing it into the cart. you shiver as the cold air hits your skin, eyeing the sorcerer with an exasperated smile. he shuts the door with a huff. "i've been such a good dad!"
you roll your eyes, shoving his arm as he starts pushing the cart down the aisle. "she definitely should be cautious of you, you creep."
satoru looks down over his shoulder, appalled, though his eyes sparkle with mirth. "and why do you say that?"
"have you seen yourself? crazy 19 year old man that kidnaps kids," you mutter somewhat sarcastically, falling into step with him like it's normal. satoru grins at that—amused.
"i think it's pretty cool of her to be that responsible though," you continue, voice going softer as you think about them, and satoru hums in what you think might be agreement. you suddenly grab his arm, stopping him in his tracks and he turns to look at you.
"you think we should get another carton of milk?" you question, tilting your head at him. "megumi's been drinking it every day after he comes back from school and tsumiki said she wanted to try making milkshakes."
satoru blinks at you, eyes widening before an amused chuckle escapes his lips. you're about to ask what is so funny but he gestures back down the aisle. "go get some."
he waits for you as you go grab another carton, leaning against the cart easily. when you make it back and place the extra milk in the cart, satoru slings an arm around your shoulders. you raise a brow, but he just continues to push the cart with his free hand and says nothing.
so you don't say anything either.
the two of you continue shopping, trying to remember the things you've noticed the kids enjoying because you know they'll be too uncomfortable to outrightly request them. for every sweet snack satoru puts into the cart, you add something that can pass as somewhat healthy, and he hides a teasing grin behind his fist each time.
when you're almost done, satoru motions to the shelves of snacks, raising a brow at you. "what do you need, hotshot?"
you look up from where you're analyzing the contents of the cart. "hm? oh i don't wanna buy anything for myself. i'm good with the stuff i have back at the dorm."
"great," he shrugs with a subtle shake of his head. "except you're not buying anything this time, i am. so pick something."
"what?" you frown, walking over to him. "we're supposed to split groceries for the kids."
"we can split next time." satoru rolls his eyes at you, as though annoyed by your insistence. "i just got paid yesterday and i wanna waste money. pick something."
you groan. "but there really isn't anything i want. if you're gonna pay yourself then let's just go. i think this is good enough."
satoru looks unamused, his eyes boring into yours—bright, dominating, mesmerizing. "oh really? nothing you want?"
you stare at him in confusion as he walks over to the frozen section and opens the door. after a few seconds of rummaging, he pulls out a box. "not even this?"
your shoulders drop. he's holding a tub of strawberry ice cream.
he casually places it into the cart, eyes trained on your expression as he bends down. "it's your favorite, isn't it?"
your voice comes out throaty, and you wet your lips nervously—his eyes follow the movement at lightning speed. "how'd you know?"
satoru scoffs out a haughty chuckle, reaching up to knock a knuckle at your forehead—it's cold. "i know everything about you, hotshot."
he moves to grip at the cart's handle, standing close enough that you can feel the energy radiating off of him. the side of his hand touches yours, still cold. "now we can go."
he sticks by your side, pushing the cart towards the counters as he casually looks around the store. you briefly realize that his shadow doesn't cover you when you're at his side like this. the thought both scares you and pleases you in a way you didn't think was possible.
"thanks toru," you mumble before you can stop yourself. his gives you a sidelong glance—assessing.
his lips twitch. "it's just ice cream."
"no, it's a lot more than that." you're not really sure why you say it so tragically, and satoru inhales sharply. you notice that his knuckles have turned white as he grips the cart's handles. once again, his eyes dart rapidly over your face—between your eyes and then further down.
then he lets out a hushed laugh, nudging your shoulder with his. "as long as you share with me, hotshot."
everything is always changing, but satoru is constant.
you can't help but smile. "always."
you two don't say much as you head to the counter, taking turns placing all the items on the belt. you quietly watch satoru dig into his wallet, feeling oddly content doing so. you think the stars in your eyes will never disappear.
the clerk eyes you both, and suppresses a fond grin. with your close proximity, shared cart, and satoru's easy going smile, you realize that she's probably misunderstanding, but you don't really know how to correct her. satoru says nothing—he just continues smiling, oddly pleased.
he smiles all the way to the car. you catch yourself doing the same in the rear view mirror.
xv. retribution
the first thing you notice when you kneel in front of suguru is that he's bleeding all over the place. you have the strongest urge to scramble and grip his fingers tightly, just as he had done for you so many years ago—but you don't dare. you're too scared that touching him will ruin you completely.
he says your name quietly, and yet it's the loudest thing in the universe to you—crashing over your ears until you've lost all sense of self.
and then he leans forward, his gaze heavy, and his hand comes up to tangle in your hair. his palm rests on the side of your face just like it did when he visited you at your family home. the last time you saw your geto suguru.
except this time he moves further—crosses a line. presses his lips to yours.
he tastes like blood. you don't pull away.
the feeling of his lips shocks you though, and you stay permanently frozen in place as you feel your eyes glaze over with something you can't put into words.
suguru kisses you slowly, deeply, like he's been waiting but wants to savor it. maybe you've been waiting too. you're not sure. you're so confused.
you don't even process the way his tongue slips past your lips, tasting almost eagerly like your mouth is some kind of conquest he's trying to claim.
it's intrusive, but not unwelcome. slow, but not gentle.
you whimper quietly, feeling acid sting down your cheek as he pulls away and his eyes flutter open. he takes in your expression, and a million emotions pass over his face.
a quiet chuckle. "that bad, huh?"
you shake yourself out of it and try to push away the flush creeping up your neck. "w-what?"
"you're crying," he announces, his furrowed eyebrows paired with a sweet smile that makes him look so unbelievably tragic. "the kiss was that bad?"
your face burns, and you raise a shaking hand up to your cheek—it's wet.
"it wasn't—i didn't—" you struggle. "i mean—"
he smiles ruefully. "i'm sorry. you were saving it for someone special, right?"
there's a charged silence that follows as you scour your brain for the conversation he's referencing. when you find it, your heart sinks.
"you've always been special to me, suguru." your voice comes out quiet, but he hears it all the same. his eyes widen fractionally and you can see a light pink dust his cheeks before he laughs. it's soft, hushed, and looks like it's painful, but he lets it run its course.
it reminds you of a laugh from so long ago, at a beach, with childish screams echoing against the sound of waves. you think you can feel strawberry ice cream dripping down your wrist.
his laughs die down and he's left smiling softly at you. his lavender eyes sparkle with mirth as he tilts his head. "i'm glad. that you were the one i gave a room to."
you can hear waves in your ears, crashing crashing drowning. sand is in your hands, in between your toes, in your eyes.
he coughs, and his palm shakes against your cheek. you wonder why he doesn't just let go already dammit suguru.
you inhale sharply, trying so hard to breathe because what is that stupid thing that's clogging your throat and preventing you from speaking? there's so much you have to say to him. so many questions. so many things left unsaid. your words are failing you.
but silence with suguru has never once been uncomfortable, right?
you raise a shaky hand to press against his where it lays against your neck. "do you regret it?"
he licks his lips, smiling faintly, as though he's enjoying the new taste of you on them. "no."
"why not?" you whisper. your body unconsciously shuffles closer to him, chasing his warmth because gods is he warm. he's always been so warm, even now, in the throes of death.
"my feelings are still the same. i still hate the monkeys for everything they've done, all the crap they cause." he shuts his eyes, smiling that serene smile. you wish he was leaning against a tree trunk. "i still have no resentment to those at jujutsu tech. and you, i still…"
he doesn't continue. you don't think you want him to. there's a flush crawling up his neck, the faint pink a stark contrast to the red of blood. it makes you nauseous.
another deep inhale, and his thumb slides over your jawbone, before brushing under your bottom lip. he stares at the flesh heavily, letting his finger press into it. his tongue swipes over his own lips, eyes darkening further.
and then something shifts in his face, and he smiles mirthlessly. his hand drops from your face—broken contact.
he doesn't tear his gaze away from you, committing your face to memory. it's almost like he wants to say something, but decides against it at the last minute as he slumps further into the wall behind him and shuts his eyes.
when he speaks again, you know that it is all over.
"you're late, satoru."
#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo satoru x reader#geto suguru x reader#satosugu x reader#gojo x reader x geto#jujutsu kaisen angst#jjk x reader#jjk angst#gojo x reader#geto x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk fluff#satoru gojo x reader#geto suguru x you#stsg x reader#satosugu x you#gojo x you#geto x you#jujutsu kaisen fluff#gojou satoru x reader#getou suguru x reader#jjk#jjk x you#geto fluff#gojo fluff#geto angst#gojo angst#suguru x reader
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Pairing: Yunho x Reader + Mingi
Word Count: 1.6K
Warnings: Spit Roasting, Choking, Cuckholding, Mingi Watches Reader Get Fucked, Spit, Raw Sex (Wrap It Upppp People!), Slapping, Name Calling (Pretty Girl, Cute Thing), Deep Throating, Yunhos Dirty Talk/Praise Almost Sounds Like It’s Degrading, Praise, Manhandling, Rough Sex, If I Missed Anything…Lemme Know👀👀!
A/N: I swear the brain rot I have bc of that photo of Yunho and Mingi should be criminal! Can you imagine being on both the giving and receiving end of them lmaoooIWantThemBadlylmaoooo. Good news, I’m trying to get back into the swing of writing, I haven’t felt much motivation bc I’ve had so much shit going on but slowlyyyy it’s coming back to me, and things are starting to slow down in my life which means more time for writing! Tbh sometimes it’s easier to do quick little fics like this, but I LOVE writing a good 5k+ fic😔! I got some WIPs in store and I can’t wait to share them! So onto the fic we go!
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Roughly grabbing his collar Yunho pulls Mingi closer. Halting his hips that are pushed flush against the plump flesh that is your ass. A loud whimper leaves your mouth that is currently filled with Yunhos cock. The vibration around his member makes Yunho hunch forward a bit more, cock sliding further down your already stuffed throat.
“You aren’t thrusting hard enough.” Yunho grits out, fist full of Mingis collar. His black leather jacket long gone on the floor, his turtleneck is practically glued to his skin from the sweat due to the hot small room they are in. Yunhos warm breath fans out across Mingis face, reddened cheeks, black slacks around his muscular thighs. His head cocks back letting out a loud whine. Gripping harder, Yunho jerks Mingi back slightly making his head roll forward.
Mouth pooling with saliva that drops and hits the couch cushions underneath your body, skirt hiked up past your hips, panties sticking out of Yunhos pocket. Your nose brushing against his soft skin, inhaling his scent, and drinking the precum that slides down your throat as you wait for him to finish instructing Mingi.
“You gotta fuck her hard, good girls like her don’t get satisfaction unless you drill it into their skulls.” He says while letting go of Mingis collar slightly shoving him back. Hand traveling down the side of your face, swiping a firm thumb against your bottom lip that has a thick string of saliva spilling from it. The same thumb that lowers and clutches your aching chin. Your eyes flutter up to meet his, dark eyes soaking in your form. From this angle he looked like a God, shirt off but he kept his black jacket on, black hair tousled from how long they had been at this.
“Isn’t that right baby?” He says through a whisper, his lips twitch at the end of his sentence. He swore this was supposed to be a lesson for you, yet this felt like a lesson for you both. His hand comes up to grab your head, his large hand engulfing the top of it, before slamming you down even further on his length. Saliva hitting his toned bare thighs, the sudden movements has you choking slightly, cunt clenching on Mingis pulsing cock. With a stutter of his hips, he grips your hips, letting out a loud whine.
“I c-can’t Yun-Yunho.” Mingi whines out, tears filling his water line. His toes clenching, eyes squeezing shut trying his best not to explode into your warm, wet cunt. Trying not to bust was a job all in itself. Hunching himself over your body, cock digging even further down your throat, choking on inch after inch. You try your best to breathe through your nose, the soft hair on his groin begins to comfort your nose, inhaling his scent with each second that goes by.
“Go sit down.” Yunho says, voice thick with demand. His eyes cut at Mingi who is hell bent on trying his best not to disappoint the man in front of him, his best friend. Pulling out of your wet cunt with a wet squelch he lets out a breath of relief, his reddened cock bobbing at the cool air hitting it. Plopping himself down across from you and Yunho, his long limbs hang tiredly all over the chair. Pulling out of your mouth, he steps back, making his back to your backside. With each wet cough you hack, your eyes water with the feeling of fresh air filling your lungs.
“Eyes on us.” Yunho says, shifting your body slightly, hands running over your soft skin, thumb tracing the deep curve of your back. His eyes darted up to Mingi, whose pants are still wrapped around his thighs, cock practically begging for relief. Those soft traces Yunho was giving you are now dead, his hands roughly grab your skin, grabbing handfuls of whatever he can grab before tapping his cock against your wet entrance. Cunt practically screaming for relief, with one smooth slide he enters your pussy, the difference in his girth knocks the wind out of you, your head falling face first into the cushions til you feel a hand wrap around your throat, tugging you up, backside firm against his chest. Your eyes immediately fill with tears, the new position change has you seeing stars. As long as you’ve been with Mingi, never have you felt a feeling like this in your lower belly. His hand that is gripping on your throat helps hold your head up. Right in your line of vision is Mingi, who looks just as helpless as you. Drawing his hips back, the tip of his cock barely at the entrance of your cunt, he slams up into you, your body lurching forward.
His cock leaves a bulge in your lower belly with each strike up of his hips, your mouth falls open, no noises leave your throat. You can't help but shut your eyes, soaking in the pleasure Yunho is giving you, Mingi is a soft lover, you are normally the one giving pleasure, not that he doesn’t return the favor but Yunho he's a hard lover, a firm one. The drastic difference between the two was like a splash of water on your face. You don’t expect it yet when it was over the cool feeling was refreshing.
“Look at him.” Yunho says, voice layered with many emotions. Dominance is the one that outweighs each one. The slight growl that hangs on the edge of each word he makes sure to punctuate as he’s deep in your cunt. Your juices soak him, his thighs, the fabric of his pants hugging his skin. You are enjoying the way he’s manhandling you, the way Mingi helplessly watches you get rag dolled around by his best friend. His eyes grow darker with each gasp you let out, head firmly against his chest as he’s slamming into you, the wet sopping noise in the small room leaves very little to the imagination as to what is going on inside. His hand tightens on your throat as you begin to babble out his name in tiny, desperate whimpers. Your hand coming up to clutch his own. You need anything to anchor you as you begin to feel that heat boiling in your lower stomach. With each deep slam of his hips, your body hiking up against his moist chest, he smiles at Mingi who is gawking at the sight in front of him.
“This is how you fuck a pretty girl, Mingi. Got a cute one and don’t even know how to fuck her correctly.” He says through a smile, eating up the sight in front of him. Your fucked out face, Mingis wide eyes and twitching cock, the wet sound of slapping skin. This was his personal heaven. The hand that was wrapped around your throat moves up to squish your cheeks, body flushed with heat, drool dripping from your swollen lips.
“Go on baby, tell Mingi this is how you wanna be fucked.” Yunho whispers loudly in your ear. A loud whine leaves your throat, eyes fluttering with the way his voice dances in your ear. Cunt clenching onto his member that’s pistoning in and out of you. With a obnoxiously loud gulp you attempt to tell Mingi just how you wanna be fucked.
“I-I wanna b-be fu-fuc-.” His hand tightens on your face, your cheeks squishing tighter together cutting your sentence short. Lips puckering together, with a stream of drool dripping down onto your chest.
“Fuck..” Mingi whispers out, clearly turned on by seeing his girl be rag dolled around by a man who wasn’t him.
“She’s a cute thing.” Yunho says through a chuckle, slowing down his thrusting to go slow and deep. The feeling of his cock bullying its way into your lower belly has you almost doubling over in the sudden feeling. Your body is attempting to hunch forward if it wasn’t for his strong grip on you.
“Ah, Ah, Ah, where do you think you're going?” Yunho whispers into your ear, licking the shell of it before nipping at the lobe. Pausing his thrusts he moves you to the side, so Mingi had a side view of just how he’s fucking you. Chest flushed against the soft cushions, your sweaty face pushed against the soft fabric. With a firm hand Yunho places his hand between your shoulder blades keeping you firmly in place.
“Does she run from your cock to Mingi? Or are you being extra special for me today baby?” he questions through a whisper, hand getting more firm by the second. You can feel his cock pulsing in your walls, you are just mere steps away from an orgasm.
“When you got a pretty thing like her.” Yunho says while grabbing your right ass cheek firmly, spreading them apart to spit on your stuffed pussy. That action alone has you so close to coming undone on him. With a loud whimper Mingis eyes glue to where Yunho’s cock meets your cunt, pussy just dripping with arousal.
“You have to remind her of her place.” Yunho says while firmly planting his foot on the couch, with one foot remaining on the floor.
“Because if you don’t, how will pretty girls like her ever be rewarded?” Yunho says in a low tone, a tone you’ve never heard, as his grip never wavers from your shoulder blades you make eye contact with Mingi whose cock is twitching at the sight in front of him.
“Eyes on me Mingi. I’m about to teach you how to fuck your girlfriend.”
DO NOT REPOST.
#ateez x reader#ateez fanfic#ateez smut#ateez imagines#jeong yunho smut#song mingi smut#jeong yunho x reader#song mingi x reader#yunho x reader#mingi x reader#dom!yunho smut#dom! ateez smut#ateez scenarios#ateez hard thoughts#ateez x you
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Must Be Fate
Prequel to And You're Mine. This is the story of how Y/N first met her cute, chubby alpha!bucky.
Summary: Y/N has been crossing paths with this particularly sweet alpha all day long; this must be fate right?
Navigation: Prequel || Main Story I || Main Story II || Main Story III
Pairing: chubby alpha!bucky x omega!female!reader
Words: 4.2k++
Warnings: a/b/o dynamics. fluffy stuff. sort of fated mate themed because... love at first scent(?). instant love. the reader was just smitten without even knowing bucky's name, alpine making her appearance, 99.9% reader's pov because she's the one who fell in love and remembers him. Dialogue? almost little to none (I AM SO SORRY FOR THAT). And I little shout out to one of my favourite book.
P/S: Been busy these few days, i just graduated my bachelor's degree, then went through the whole job hunting process and somehow managed to land an offer (in another state btw), then went on a stressful house hunting journey and managed to get decent place. Yknow, all those "adulting" stuff (that i am not ready to face). But yeah, here's a little something from my wip that I managed to finish. Happy reading! 🤍
Read my other works here: Masterlist
Y/N herself might not notice it, but she had been stealing glances through the pretense of the book she was supposed to be reading for quite some time now. Not that she wanted to be distracted anyway; she was rather enjoying her current read, especially the banter between main characters, Liesel and Rudy.
Yet for some reason, she couldn’t tear her gaze away from the particular alpha sitting on the park bench, right across from her.
It seemed that the man was also distracted with his own personal dilemma as his thoughts were lost within the arrangement of peonies in his hand. There was this deep frown decorating his features yet his eyes translates a different type of emotion. More gloomy, more somber. And Y/N knew exactly why.
She never meant to follow Bucky around, in fact, she didn’t. It just happened that his paths were fated to intertwined with hers; and it all started that afternoon.
The bus was packed full, albeit it was Saturday, but thankfully she managed to find herself a seat.
Since Y/N was getting closer to her heat, in about a week or so, and her scent blockers were nearly out. She just got back from a nearby clinic to restock and now she had a full day for herself.
The thing about her pre-heat condition is that she was fortunate to not experience the normally unpleasant symptoms like any omega would; she doesn't get irritated easily and she didn't have to go through those random aches and fever.
However, she had a particular symptom that differs from the other omega; which involve the irregular increase of her scent.
During pre-heat and all throughout the actual heat, Y/N’s scent tripled the amount of a normal omega in heat. And since, she refused to take suppressants, the doctor prescribed her with a high dosage of scent blockers instead; to mask her scent completely during pre-heat.
Besides her own scent thickens and heighten, her sense of smell was also affected. It will become so senstive that she can smell everything and everyone, all at the same time.
Unfortunately for her, there weren’t any medication to combat that issue and the only solution she could do was wearing a mask to lessen affect of other people’s scents. But of course, the mask can only do so much especially when she was in a tight confinement of a bus with – what feels like – 2000 people crammed into it.
Too many potent scents coming from every direction, that her head spun into nausea.
Sure, she might be a little bit exaggerating about the amount of people in the bus, but it felt awfully like it when the bus stopped in every bus stop in its route; she can physically feel the inertia of the force pushing her to lean forward.
Thank god, she was sitting down; she managed to hold on the seat in front of her for support. Often times she would whisper her apologies to the man sitting in front for the sudden push of her hand, And most times he only nodded without looking back.
But at one of those stops, unfortunately, the teenager standing next to her bumped his head right onto the metal pole. Poor thing quickly scurried out of the bus in pain and embarrassment.
The density of people became lesser at that stop, but not enough to empty any seat in the bus. Though it worked well for her that most of the strong scents were fading into a much more bearable capacity for her to endure.
While streams of people exited the bus, only one came aboard; a sweet old lady. The moment Y/N saw her, she was already thinking of giving up her seat, but the man sitting in front of her beat her to it as he swiftly stood on his feet and help the old lady to his seat.
The old lady gushed and thanked the man, dearly patted his cheeks like any grandmother would do to their grandchildren.
And in that brief moment of time, when he moved, Y/N picked up a particularly sweet scent trailing behind him and when he came back, it hits her like a train. At first, she can sense some sort of floral; roses and jasmine but with time the smoky sandalwood and spicy cinnamon seeped through. The combination of sweet and woody notes made such a warm and captivating scent.
She never knew an alpha can smell this good.
Her eyes fluttered close as the alluring scent flooded her brain, letting his scent creates the dreamy images of his fingers lacing between hers as they walk in the rain, or him cuddling her in the heat of the fireplace during the winter, or his body trapping her by the back as she takes his huge delicious kno—whoa.
That was way too vivid and a tad too far.
She was so enthralled by his scent that she forgot to even look at the man’s face. And a mistake it was for her to take a peek because he is absolutely gorgeous. The brown locks on his head was neat and clean that she just wanted to make a mess out of it. His eyes were pretty in steel-blue and his plush lips was simply a sin to look at.
Though some would argue about the lack of shape in his jawline, the same one that was hidden between his chin; she didn’t care at all, rather she was particularly fond of the softness on his chubby cheeks. Shaved so clean and smooth that she couldn't find a single razor cut on his skin.
They look so cute and kissable. She want to kiss his cheeks, his lips, and every part of his ridiculously handsome face. She wanted kiss him so badly.
And those intrusive thoughts made her almost missed her stop.
Y/N panicked when she scurried out of the bus that she didn't even thought to ask him for his name or number; anything.
But then again, she wasn't the type to be so bold in the first place; she knew wouldn't have the courage to even speak a word to him. His scent alone almost pushed her into a frenzy, so imagine if he would look at her with those beautiful eyes of his, smile at her, talk to her?
She'd simply die. She was sure of it.
So, with regrets Y/N walked towards the familiar road right into the local bookstore that she often visits. Thinking that this encounter would probably be forgotten by the end of the day.
Then she spent hours in that shop trying to find the perfect book to put her out of the miserable reading slump she was currently in. While her eyes skim over the covers of the book in display, in the back of her head, Y/N was almost certain of how unlikely it was for her to see the alpha ever again.
Couple of turns later, her footsteps trailed back to the space in between the bookshelves next to the huge glass window of the store. Still glancing absentmindedly at the book covers particular on the historical fiction isle. She halted when she saw it, the book that people had been recommending to her, 'The Book Thief'.
After reading the summary behind the book, she felt drawn to it almost instantly. Thinking that maybe this would be the book that will replenish her interest of reading back to its utmost glory.
But when she lifted her head up, she froze yet again. This time, not because the sight of a book. But it was the silhouette of the alpha she saw in the bus. Instinctively, her feet step closer to the glass window, to have a better look at the man across the road.
The alpha had just exited the flower shop opposite from where she was standing, with a gorgeous bouquet of peonies in his hands. Now that she looked closely, his hands were covered with black leather gloves; it intrigued her and she wondered about the story behind it.
Y/N wasn't that dense; she could see it right away from the way he dressed, to the choice of gift he went for. She knew instantly that the alpha was probably going out on a date.
And that stung her a little bit. How nice it must be to be his date, his girl, his omega.
Funny of her to think so when she never really talked to the guy. Let alone know him well enough to decided whether he's a good alpha or not. But something about him felt right to her.
But, sometimes it'll be like that. Falling in love so strongly, so instantly. And there's nothing wrong with it, as long as you know how to protect yourself; your body, your heart.
When her gaze moved upwards to his face; and her heart almost escaped her body. It was so quick, so faint. But, she saw his smile. It wasn't for her but it was so pretty. Y/N felt like a bow just struck her chest and the cupid was trying to pull it back out.
She knew full well how she probably need to move on from this delusional crush of hers yet her eyes still longingly lingered at his moving figure, walking farther away from her sight.
When she thought that would be the last time she saw him, she was utterly wrong. Now, it felt like devilish cupid was toying with her heart as their path crossed yet again, this time at a nearby cafe.
She didn't notice him at first, at least until she placed her orders and saw him sitting alone at the far corner of the cafe. He seemed to be waiting for his date; the flowers laid perfectly on the seat next to him.
In contrast of the few looks of his that she had witness before, the alpha's demeanour indicates anxiousness.
His heel keeps tapping the floor, causing his knees to jump up and down, as he fiddled with his phone. Occasionally, he would look at the time and put it down. Just to do the same thing over again only seconds later.
And that made her wondered if this was his first date with whomever the person he was supposed to be seeing. She knew those feelings all too well. It was only canon that he felt the jitters on his first date, she'd been there too.
When her drink was served, Y/N decided to stay awhile longer. She didn't know what she was expecting from this but she wanted to make sure he was okay. Or maybe she just wanted to see who was the lucky girl. So she found herself a seat, a little bit discrete yet enough to see him from where she sat.
Pulling out her new purchase, she decided to pass the time with some light reading, maybe getting herself comfortable with the world building in the book and get to know the main characters in the process. In between those moments, Y/N would peek above the book, particularly at the sight of that beautiful stranger from across the room.
Pages upon pages she drowned herself to the words of the author that she didn't notice how time flies passing the half an hour mark; and the cafe started to get more crowded and rowdier. Certainly, the amount of potent scents had were floating around her were slowly getting to her.
Y/N knew if she stayed a longer, she'd surely throw up whatever drink she just had. So, she decided to leave. But not before glancing at the alpha – who was still waiting for his date – for one last time, then she pulled the door open and walked away.
Certainly, that was supposed to be the last time she see him right? Nope. The universe proved her wrong when the man found a seat on the bench opposite her. With the same bouquet of flowers in his hands.
And at this point, she thought that this must be fate. There's no other explanation than this.
When she lowered her book again, she saw a white feline rubbing its head on Bucky's legs. It was too far to hear its voice but considering the amount of time its mouth open, Y/N figured it was meowing at him.
Probably to get his attention, or just wanted to comfort the alpha because just from the look of it, she knew he was stood up by his date. And Y/N was unexpectedly mad about it; maybe it was from personal experience or maybe it was just because she couldn't accept the fact that this fine, gorgeous, sweet alpha was being stood up.
Y/N watched how Bucky put away the flowers and scooped the cat onto his lap. He squinted his eyes at the ball of fur and spoke something. She hadn't had a clue what he said but it was probably along the lines, "Are you lost, little one?" He scratched its chin and neck while trying to see if it has a collar.
After so long of seeing that deep grumpy-looking frown on his face, Bucky finally graced her with another smile when the cat tried to rub its nose on his cheeks. Its whiskers tickled his nose and had trigger a laugh out of him.
God, Y/N had never been so desperate to be a cat in her life. She wanted to be that cat; sitting on his lap like she owns that place, making him smile and laugh like that. She wanted nothing more that to do so; to please him in a way that would make her own heart full.
Her daydream was cut short though, when a heavy scent of cigarettes and rum invaded her space. In fact it was so thick and potent, but considering the lanky alpha was sitting right next to her it was inevitable.
Y/N didn't want to be rude; because if she just walk away to find a different spot to sit at, then it would seem rude to the man. Her heighten sense of smell was to be blamed, not the man who was simply sitting next to her, enjoying the park as much as everybody else does.
So, she stayed.
But in those few minutes that she stayed, she might have re-adjust her mask a few times, as if it would help to lessen the scent. But, she did it anyway. And that was all she did. Yet somehow, it managed to rub the alpha in a wrong way.
"Ya got a problem with my scent, beta?" He snarled, clearly he was drunk. And a drunk alpha in the middle of the day was never a good sign.
Though she was relieved to know that the scent blockers worked just fine. Otherwise, she might push the alpha into a rut if he got even a single whiff of her scent.
The alpha growled as she put some space between them instead of answering his question. "Are you even listening to me?! Answer me, you dumb bitch!" His aggressiveness went from zero to hundred real quick when he yanked her by the hand, pulling her closer towards him.
Y/N's book fell from the force of his strength and she yelped in pain and fear. Though she usually know how to put up a brave face and fight back, but the sudden change of his action and emotion didn't gave her time to prepare her; mentally, physically.
With her omega tendencies on default, her body coward to his force and her voice tremble, "L-let me go!" She tried to twist her hand to escape but his grasp only grew stronger.
He pulled her to stand up, "You think a beta like you can look down on me? You and that omega are the same! Bunch of good for thing bitches. Gonna teach you a good lesson for disrespecting an alpha like me!" He roared with words of his drunken concerns, truth of his wounded ego.
Her blood pumped faster through her veins and her breaths increases behind her mask. When she saw his hand rose, Y/N shut her eyes, whimpering in fear as she turned her head away, waiting for the pain strike her but it never happened.
It between those short heavy breaths, she caught a whiff of Bucky's scent. And surely, it gave her the comfort she needed to calm down, guiding her to open her eyes and witness her saviour stopping the unhinged alpha's strike.
Then what happend next was so fast; the way Bucky forced him to release her, and the way the left of his gloved hand wrapped around the alpha's neck, choking the air out of his wind pipe.
Bucky growled something in the alpha's ear, but Y/N couldn't hear it over her own beating heart. She didn't need to, not when the pale look of the man's face says it all. As soon as Bucky loosen his grip, the other alpha stumbled backwards and made a run for his life.
That does tend to happened when Bucky was literally threatened to tear his limbs apart if he touch the woman ever again.
When the panic didn't die like Y/N hoped for, Bucky quickly came to her side; respectfully close while avoiding any sort of skinship. He whispered words of comfort and sweet nothings, "It's okay, you're okay. You're safe now."
His voice was like magic, especially when it managed to calm her so easily. Y/N can feel herself melting, like a marshmallow hovering over the flames; like an ice cream under the summer sun. She took a deep breath of his sweet scent and exhaled a long sigh, "Thank you. Thank you for that." she said.
Bucky bent down to pick up her book and patted the dust off, "It's no big deal, here." He handed the book. She gladly took it from his hand, gripping it tight to her chest.
Her head was still fuzzy from the rush of adrenaline, she couldn't think of a single coherent thought other than gratitude towards her saviour, "Yeah, thank you." She probably didn't even notice that she was talking to the alpha she was crushing on the whole day.
Looking at her shaken state, Bucky was worried of her, "Are you going to be okay?" He asked.
Y/N's mind didn't process his question fast enough to for a confident reply to form, "Huh? Yeah, of course. I'll be fine. Couple of deep breaths should do the trick."
"Are you sure?" Bucky was sceptical but she quickly assured him, "Absolutely!"
He nodded slowly as if she failed to convince him, yet he didn't want to push her too much, "If you say so..."
She let out a another long sigh and said, "Thank you again, really. I don't know what I'd do without you."
Bucky simply chuckled at her words, "You know, you've said 'thank you' way too many times now, doll. Plus, it is an utmost honor of an alpha to save a damsel in distress." He jest.
Which was quickly agreed by a mewl coming from his chest, "Meow!" Y/N didn't even notice the white cat nestling comfortably in his leather jacket, albeit it was zipped up until only its' head peeking out of the dark fabric.
"See? She agrees." Bucky shrugged as if the cat's opinion was the only valid opinion in this situation.
"I did say it a lot, did I?" Y/N cooed as she pet the cat on its' head, smiling at the softness of its' fur against her skin before looking back at the blue eyes of his, "Sorry." She instinctively apologized.
Bucky shook his head and reminded her, "Don't be."
That was when Bucky's phone rang, a call from Steve, "Hey, you're here? Where are you? Oh there. Yeah, I can see you, punk. You don't need wave at me like that. Yeah, I'll be right there. Please don't let Sam join you. God stop that is fucking embarrassing." He muttered as he looked over how his friends were literally halfway out of the car window, waving at him like a bunch of kids.
Bucky snuck his phone back into his pocket and said, "I'd offer you a ride but the car's full with dumbasses and I wouldn't recommend a sweet thing like you to associate with them in any way."
He managed to pull a short laugh out of her, "Oh, no need to do so. I live close by. Don't need to worry about me just..." her trails stopped mid way.
Only for Bucky to continue with a question, "...Just??"
"Do you mind giving those to me?" Y/N pointed at the flowers in his hand. She knew he was contemplating to throw it away because he had been glancing at the trash way too many times at the first couple of minutes when he sat on that bench across from her.
Y/N noticed how his expression changed, he looked confused but didn't frown upon the idea. Her eyes sparkled with anticipation as she waited patiently for his respond. But he just continued to stare at her, almost blankly but not quite lost. It was as if he was mesmerized by something.
The silence was getting louder than the crowds surrounding them so she decided to explain, "You see, I've never received flowers from anybody before. So, I'm curious how it feels like to receive one." She tried to come up with excuses, though she was still telling the truth. No one she dated had ever gave her flower before, probably deeming it as old-fashioned.
But, she loves those old fashioned gesture the most.
Y/N saw how he hesitated when he stared at the bouquet, his face getting tense by the seconds. She recognize that expression, she knew right away he was holding back his feelings.
But it quickly shifted into a gentle smile, "Pretty flowers for the pretty lady." He whispered under his breath. Bucky didn't waste his time hesitating this time and handed the bouquet to her.
Though she was asking for it but she didn't expect him to really give it to her. This was the first time she ever got flowers from a man. An alpha that she was pretty much head over heels for nonetheless.
Letting her emotions unfiltered, "Thank you!" she squealed as she reach out her hand. As she brought the bouquet closer to her face, she pulled down her mask, inhaling the sweet fragrant of the soft pastel peonies.
Even if her lower face hidden behind the flowers, Bucky swore he saw a burst of sparkles beamed from her upon receiving those flowers. It fascinated him because he never knew that someone could be this happy just from getting such small gift, from a complete stranger he might add.
For a second there, he thought that he would've give her a whole garden of flowers just to see her shine like that again. It felt so good and somehow fulfilling to see her happy like this.
Y/N unknowingly smiled as she let herself lost in the intoxicating scent. And when her eyes fluttered open, a deep chuckle distracted her from the trance. Looking up, as he eyes peeking through the blooming flowers, she finally saw that endearing smile that she wanted to see.
But that wonderful fleeting moment didn't last long as she was hoping for when she heard a group of man shouting for the alpha, "Hey, loverboy! We have a birthday party to get to. Natasha would be pissed if we're late. Again!"
As Bucky shouted back his own sassy counter, Y/N's head was filled with thoughts of kissing him. She didn't particularly know why but she had the need to do it.
Why would she ever do this to a man – who probably currently thinking that she was a creep – that she barely knew?
Even with those unconscious questions, she found her body moved on its own.
When he turned around, Y/N was already on her tip toe, her face was so close to his, while her hand softly cupped his chubby cheeks. She pressed a tender kiss on one of the side soft sides and prayed to God that he couldn't hear how her heart was desprete to escape the confinement of her ribcage.
Y/N placed her mask back before pulling away, only to preen at how she managed to stun him into a red mess of shock, "Thank you for saving me, alpha." Her eyes curved as a sign of a smile before she turn around, almost running away.
She certainly didn't give him a chance to at least know her name, let alone get to know her.
Midway through her path, Y/N abruptly stopped and turned around, her eyes met his curious ones and her heart fluttered, "Thank you for the flowers! I love them!" she shouted with a wide smile on her lips and brightest expression of her face, even if it was blocked by the mask.
Though Bucky could probably translate her eagerness and sincerity from how animatedly joyful she was waving at him. He smiled as he watched the girl ran away with her small steps, almost resembling a hopping bunny.
As Y/N skipped her way home, her lips aches for more of the alpha's softness, her heart yearned for his comforting presense and her glands certainly burned for his mark. And even though she went home not knowing his name, or his contact number. She believed that if he was truly her fated mate, then they will surely meet again someday.
End.
Read my other works here: Masterlist
A/N: Thank you for loving this couple as much as I do, guys. I noticed a lot of you have been requesting chubby alpha!bucky ever since I first published the first one. So I hope you enjoyed this one. More to come from them. But meanwhile, drop your thoughts?
#bucky x reader#bucky x you#bucky barnes au#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#alpha!bucky#chubby!bucky
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audi tp carlos/driver oscar wip
Oscar wins the championship. It's fireworks shooting into the sky. It’s loud cheers in his ear both from his radio and from the grandstands. It’s the champagne sneaking into his fireproof. It's a heavy weight being lifted from his shoulders. The air knocked out from his chest. Oscar feels everything all at once.
'This is only the beginning, Oscar.', Mark whispers in his ear and he believes it.
Except he's not sure anymore. Oscar Piastri won the championship two years ago but has not even been close to a win ever since. Lando left McLaren a year after Oscar won his championship.
At the time, everyone thought it's because Lando knew he would never win a championship with Oscar as his teammate. But now as he looks at Lando at the podium wearing dark blue, he thinks maybe that was not entirely the reason why he left. Possibly, not a reason at all.
But who would have predicted that McLaren would go backwards after such excellent years?
"Oscar."
He turns and sees brown eyes still as intense as they were when they first met his. He breathes deeply and accepts the handshake offered to him.
"Great race." Carlos says and clasps his other hand on his shoulder. Oscar winces a bit, feeling his fingers dig into his skin. He's not sure if he's just imagining it.
Carlos Sainz retired from driving a long time ago. Didn't even wait for Oscar to win the championship so he can rub it in his face. Shame. He still sees Carlos in the paddock from time to time. Still glued to Lando's side after all these years. Maybe even more so now that he's not competing with Lando anymore.
Oscar scoffs with humour, "Yeah. Great race." If you can call a p5 which he barely held onto anything, it surely wouldn’t be the word great.
Carlos raises one eyebrow at him. "Not happy, huh?"
The hand on his shoulder has found its way back on Carlos’s jeans pocket and he suddenly wishes it was still on his shoulder, pressure firm. Just to ground him.
He hasn't been happy with the team, with the car for some time now. But this is his team. The one he made his debut with. The one he won races with. The one he won a championship with. But it's not enough. Oscar wants more. He always wants more. But he can't say that. He hasn't said it to anyone else but Mark who was probably the first one to frown at McLaren's faults even before Oscar noticed it.
He sure as hell would not share it to Carlos. He’s not a threat. He's nothing in the paddock anymore. He just comes here to entertain himself. Still, Oscar won't put it past Carlos to run his big mouth around the paddock.
"I'm as happy as I can be." He shrugs.
Carlos laughs, disbelief dancing in his eyes. Oscar wants to claw at Carlos' skin and scream. What do you know? You don't know me. You don't even know the team you used to work for anymore.
Oscar nods his goodbye and leaves. No point in souring his mood even more than it is by standing next to Carlos who still thinks he knows better than Oscar.
You've never won a championship, Carlos. What could you possibly know that I don't?
"Oscar."
Oscar stops at his tracks but doesn't turn. He rolls his eyes thinking god, does he ever stop talking?
"You know you could have more than this. You deserve more."
Oscar shakes his head and continues walking. He's not gonna stand there and let Carlos tell him what he already knows. Oscar has been in formula one for years. He's already made his mark in the sport. He's adored. He's looked up to. But speaking with Carlos still makes him feel like the rookie he was once. Enthusiastic and eager. Maybe a little foolish. He's not listening to carlos.
"Jesus christ."
Oscar sits in his living room, his phone on hand lit up with an image Mark just sent him.
'You want me to talk to him?' Mark sends.
Carlos Sainz new Audi F1 Team principal.
Oscar runs a hand down his face. As it turns out, Carlos still does know some things Oscar doesn't.
'Yes, please.' he replies.
Damn it.
#i opened the doc file#i do want to do smth with this#just not sure what#carcar#f1 wip#my fic#carlos sainz#oscar piastri
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let the games begin - sebastian stan smut
The one where you ask him to explain the pepsi cup scene to you
Warnings: best friends to lovers, best friend!reader, hopelessly in love!Seb, reader has hair long enough for Seb to “play with” but do with that as you wish, innocent!reader, smut.
WC: 1.8k
A/N: this is just a sweet little smutty one-shot of best friend!Seb realizing you feel the same for him. I didn't delve deep into the smut because to be honest, this has been in my WIP list since the movie came out and I just couldn't be bothered to write more than what's here, yet I hope you'll enjoy it anyway!
Seb’s P.O.V.
“You ready for this? You know we don’t have to watch it, right?” I tried to convince her one more time, and still, she just rolled her eyes and pulled me to the sofa next to her. Oh, how I loved to feel her smaller frame tightly pressed against mine.
“Don’t be silly, of course I want to watch it. I’ve seen everything you’ve ever done, I can’t let one slightly scarring movie keep me away from this long standing tradition.” It warmed my heart to think that she’d been doing this way before we even met.
I kissed her temple before adjusting so her body would rest against my chest, and settled in for the film. I knew it would be an experience, to say the least, watching this with her, so I tried to prepare myself for anything that could happen.
She could end up traumatized and unable to look me in the eye. At the very least, it would certainly serve as ammunition for her to tease me for years to come, and that was one turn of events I could deal with. The first one was my real concern.
So I settled in to watch the movie, because I figured it would be best to be around than to wait for her reactions afterwards. What if she never wanted to see me again? I knew it was just my anxiety coming up with the worst possibilities, but it still scared the crap out of me.
I couldn’t imagine my life without her anymore. And maybe one day I’d grow the courage to tell her about it, but for now, I was perfectly happy just sitting here with her and offering some support when my character started to freak her out.
“Hey, there you are!” She giggled in excitement, pointing at the TV like I wasn’t watching it with her. It made me chuckle, seeing her act like a little kid when it came to me doing my job. God, she was precious.
“Yeah, there I am,” I agreed, leaning over her to deposit a quick kiss against her temple, but much to my surprise all I got was a nudge and a hush. “Are you shushing me?” She finally unglued her eyes from the television to look at me with disappointment all over her features.
“Seb, I love you, but if you keep interrupting the movie, I’m gonna kick you out and there’s nothing you can do about that.” I wanted to point out that if she did, she’d have to watch it by herself and there was no way she’d be able to sleep, but I didn’t want to risk her fury. So I just sat back and pulled her with me, playing with her hair as I watched the story unfold before my eyes.
For whatever reason, I seemed to forget that I looked a bit… different in my role at some point, and as I gained weight before our eyes, she turned around to look at me with a look I couldn’t figure out. It made me nervous.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I had to ask, but she didn’t immediately answer me. I felt embarrassed, it was almost like she was comparing me to the man on the screen, and I didn’t know which one she preferred.
Could it be that now that she’d seen me like that, she couldn’t unsee it?
“I’ve always thought you looked better when Don wasn’t trying to make you look like some sort of bodybuilder, but this role just confirmed it to me. You’re even sexier with some weight on your body.”
My cheeks burned, and I didn’t know what to say. So I just cuddled her to me once more, focusing on the screen as I tried to work through my emotions - and there were many. Desire, barely concealed lust, something the hardening member inside my jeans wouldn’t let me forget - but also something warm and comfortable, settling deep inside my chest.
I didn’t want to give it a name. So I just pulled her to me yet again, kissed her temple and pretended to go back to watching the movie, while I waited for her attention to be redirected to it once more. When I was sure she wasn’t noticing me anymore, I got back to analyzing her reactions, chuckling under my breath at the way hers hitched at every little thing, and how she squeezed my thigh when she thought something scary would happen.
And then the car scene started. My muscles immediately froze underneath her, having completely forgotten about this particular part of the movie.
“What’s going on?” She asked, first surprised and then confused. “Is everything okay?” I couldn’t answer her. I couldn’t even look away from the screen, flinching as it developed right before my eyes. It was like my own self-made train wreck: unavoidable and paralyzing.
“Seb…” She reached out for my hand, asking for my attention, and I licked my lips and took a deep breath before turning to give it to her.
“I don’t get it, what’s going on?” I was about to tell her that I was just embarrassed, but the confusion in her eyes as they darted from the TV to my embarrassed self suddenly made sense to me.
“Wait,” I started, holding her jaw so she’d fix her eyes on mine and forget about the movie for a second. “You don’t understand the scene?” She hesitated for a second before nodding, biting her lower lip in that way she did when she was nervous.
It made the warmth inside my chest expand and take over my entire body, shooting straight to my lower belly, where it began to burn.
Fuck. Who would have thought that she was so innocent?
“Do you want me to tell you?” The question left my lips before I could ponder if my concern came from a valid place - my desire to help her, always.
But maybe things happened for a reason - maybe it was some sort of ungodly gift the idea of watching this movie together, because as I watched her glance over at the screen again and then lay her eyes on me, I saw it with perfect clarity:
She was aroused by it.
“Or would you like me to show you?” Another question that slipped from my lips unintentionally, another sentence I didn’t regret speaking. This… tension, it had always been here, between the both of us. I’d been too much of a coward to act on it before so if the ball was on my court now, it was time to let it roll.
“’Cause I’d be more than happy to.” With my last reassurance, the thread between us broke, and in a second, we were kissing. Who made the first move, I’d never know. All I cared about was her taste, how sweet she was, and the tiny little whimpers I could hear escaping her when I had to pull back to take a breath.
My body still acting of its own accord, I got up from the couch to take my pants off, hand immediately going to my hardness to release some of the frustration she was causing me. Thankfully, she didn’t seem scared - just hungry, looking at me with doe eyes and biting down on her lower lip before I pulled her closer so that her hand rested over mine.
“Fuck…” I whispered against her neck at the first contact of her hand on my naked dick, but for some reason that was all it took for the spell to break.
“Seb, I can’t…” She pulled away from me, chest still heaving from desire, but I felt so damn guilty I couldn’t even feel good about it. “I can’t do this and then pretend that it didn’t happen.”
Y/N’s P.O.V.
His face softened up instead of becoming angry, like I expected it would. “Come.” He got up from the couch, offering me his hand, which I took without second-guessing myself.
His eyes told me everything I needed to know.
He took me to his bed, where he kissed me deeply once again. “Don’t worry, I’ll be patient.” How could I say that I’d let him do anything to me?
Within seconds, I was naked. It was unlike any other similar experience I’d ever lived, and the way he stared at me only had me falling deeper into the cloud of comfort that only Seb could provide me.
“Spread your legs for me, honey.” I did so instinctively, also closing my eyes in nervousness at what was happening.
“Keep looking at me,” he asked, and so I reopened my eyes, finding him staring at my most private spot with hunger in his. “Fuck, you’re soaked.”
Before I could comprehend what was happening, he’d yanked me to the edge of the bed and proceeded to kneel down before me, lips kissing my inner thighs and navel while I panted softly.
“Fuck, I can’t believe that I get to taste you,” he uttered before his tongue stuck out and he did just that… He tasted me, and nothing had ever felt quite as great as that simple gesture.
“How does it feel, sweetheart?” He asked in the midst of attacking my clit with his tongue and lips, the hot muscle swirling over it and making my head spin. “Do you like this?”
“Yes, yes!” I nodded, hand flying down to hold him by the hair and keep him attached to me. “More, I want more.”
“What?” He teased me, the devious thing. “You want what?”
“More,” I insisted, pushing him down so his face would connect with my pussy once more. He didn’t keep up with his pretense and kept on licking me until I saw stars behind my closed eyelids, screaming his name for dear life.
“Kiss me,” I begged breathlessly once I was able to speak again, and he leaned over me to grant me my wish, allowing me to taste myself for the first time in my life.
“You know…” I struggled to find the courage to say what I wanted, but I knew I could trust Sebastian. “When we actually do it, you don’t need to be so gentle…”
He bit my shoulder in response, shaking his head at my antics. I thought I was dreaming, being naked in his bed, having just had the best orgasm of my life.
I wanted to do this for the rest of my life.
“I don’t want to go to sleep tonight,” I confessed, watching as the most beautiful smile opened up in my best friend’s face.
“Lucky for you, there are a ton of things we can do to pass the time.”
#my fics#sebastian stan smut#sebastian stan#smut#rpf#sebastian stan x reader#sebastian stan reader smut
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⚔️ Battle of the WIPs ⚔️
It's Monday evening for me so I've missed seven sentence sunday but I've been tagged by the wonderful @elvensorceress and @spotsandsocks for various things so instead I'm gonna share some brand new snippets from two of my current wips (aka the one I was supposed to work on today and the new one I started instead) and y'all can duke it out for which one you wanna read the most!
Love Languages Fic:
Buck arrives at the station, a vision in dark blue with two to-go cups carefully balanced in a carry tray, mercifully breaking Eddie out of his frantic Google Maps spiral. “You are an angel!” Buck snorts and rolls his eyes but Eddie can see the pretty shade of pink flushing across the tops of his cheeks. “Just thought you’d appreciate a sweet treat, I know how much you hate having to work weekends when Chris is at home.” Eddie’s heart squeezes in his chest but he ignores it in favor of looking inquisitively at his friend. “Sweet treat?” “Mmhm, Caramel latte.” “Oww gimme!” Eddie drops his phone into his lap and reaches out towards Buck, wiggling his fingers like that will bring him closer, faster. Buck carefully extracts one of the cups and passes it to him. The first sip is heavenly and he can’t contain the satisfied noise that escapes him. “God this is good. I needed this.”
Eddie comes back from Texas (Roommates Buddie):
“It’s not forever, Buck.” Eddie’s fingers squeeze his shoulder as his dark brown eyes search to meet Buck’s. Logically, Buck knows that he’s coming back. Eddie’s house key sitting deep in Buck’s jean pockets and the key for his loft returned to the ownership of his landlord yesterday are a testament to that. Buck plasters on a smile and hopes it looks even a degree more confident than he feels. “I know. Best of luck to Texas, they don’t know what’s coming for them.” Eddie laughs and as always it’s the most beautiful sound Buck has ever heard. He catalogs the flash of his teeth and the crinkling by his eyes, filing them away deep in his chest where he can refer to them until forever is over. “Back before you know it!” Eddie throws over his shoulder as he walks through the gates to security. The edges of his smile are too tight and Buck thinks maybe they're both lying to themselves about how long forever is.
Tagging @lonelychicago @lilbuddie @bekkachaos @monsterrae1 @dr-shortsighted-owl
@spaceprincessem @thosetwofirefighters @rogerzsteven @hippolotamus
@thekristen999 @eddiebabygirldiaz @rewritetheending @sibylsleaves @lover-of-mine
#buddie#buddie wips#meegs writes stuff#battle of the wips#fic: speaking your love language#fic: i missed you while you were gone#buddie love languages fic#911#buck x eddie#eddie diaz#evan 'buck' buckley
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Hob mistaken for a prostitute by Dream.
Hob is just sitting in this hotel bar getting a drink when this blazingly hot man walks up to him and starts talking.
Hob's leaving tomorrow and had been in dumb meetings all day selling his tech company for more money than he thought existed for an idea he came up with his late wife; He and Robyn will be set for life (2 or 3 lives). Hob just wanted a drink to decompress (and quietly freak out). Somehow, this hot guy, who didn't share his name, talked Hob up to his room and blew his back out/they blew each others' backs out (Hob honestly stopped tracking when they front'ed against the room door to a fast 1st one each).
When Hob wakes up the next morning to a pile of cash and a note on hotel stationary saying 'thanks and hope this covers it + tip', he's gobsmacked. 1. It was a lot of money - at least he's a good whore; and 2. Hob didn't think they connected for a long term thing or anything, but he certainly didn't think his stranger thought he was on the job!
Well, life is weird and full, and this will be a great story for his friends at the pub -- Joanna is going to give him so much sh*t. Hob certainly doesn't expect to see his stranger again, now.
This is my new favourite thing. I’m actually so tempted to throw this in my wip pile because omg. I LOVE sex worker Hob, but not-actually-a-sex-worker Hob is so fucking funny and weirdly hot.
Anyway, it keeps Hob from moping as he starts his new life with Robyn. Whenever he’s sad he has a little chuckle about that night. He’ll mutter “chin up, you’re a good whore remember?” whenever he’s having a crisis. He’s moved to this smallish village with a school for Robyn and a nice little pub where Hob has taken on a few shifts that he doesn’t need but hey, they were short staffed. He’s made a small circle of friends and Robyn’s grandparents are just down the road. It’s a very comfortable life.
And then one night he’s hanging out with his friends at the pub, and someone new comes in. Hob doesn’t get a glimpse until Joanna waves the stranger over and introduces him as an old uni mate.
It’s the guy. The hot guy who paid him £4000 cash for sex. Holy shit.
Their eyes meet and Hob feels his face turn bright red. The stranger introduces himself as Morpheus and sits down awkwardly next to Hob, while the rest of the group dissolves back into chatter. Which would be fine, except — Morpheus starts whisper-asking polite questions about Hob’s job. Do his friends know? Should Morpheus be discreet about their encounter? Is Hob being safe? Hob nearly dies there at the table. How’s he supposed to tell the guy that he’s a millionaire, not a rent boy?!
The worst part is, Morpheus is so fucking hot. Hob wants him all over again. And because he’s a fucking idiot, he lets Morpheus take him back to the little B&B he’s staying at nearby. Once again Hob is fucked into sweet oblivion in several different rooms, and when he’s too sore to go any more he takes over and finally fucks Morpheus on the actual bed. Morpheus gives him permission to stay the night and Hob thinks that he really, REALLY needs to come clean but. They both fall asleep.
In the morning over coffee in the kitchen, Morpheus says “I am afraid I only have £500 in cash. Do you have a PayPal account?” Just as Joanna pops in through the back door (it’s her girlfriend’s b&b, she has a key).
“Oh my GOD, Hob.” She says. “This is why EVERYONE assumes that you’re a whore!”
…and from there onwards, chaos reigns.
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wip snip 8.1
thank you for the tag, @buhloodweeeave! your snip looks like so much fun!
my current wip is a fic called Travelling Together (based on that w.s. merwin poem, yes, i am who i am). the premise is this:
After the tadpoles are gone and everyone goes their separate ways, Astarion and Gale realize they can still hear each other’s thoughts. Probably because they’re soulmates.
and here's a snippet!
“Astarion?” Gale gasps out loud. “When did you learn Sending? I thought you lost the sending stone I gave you! Did you find—wait. I’m not Sending, but you’ve been responding to me; how is that possible? Did you discover a new kind of stone? A more advanced working of the spell? You must tell me all about it—” Gale! Astarion shouts in his head. Somehow just the sound of his name in Astarion’s distinct voice, angry as it is, sets Gale’s heart fluttering slightly, which is quite pathetic and embarrassing, actually. Ugh, stop—you’re thinking far too fast and too much, I can’t make heads or tails of it. Slow down, will you? Just—think. Quietly, slowly. “That’s not exactly my strong suit,” Gale says, and Astarion immediately counters you don’t have to talk. Just think. As if you’re Sending. “But I’m not Sending,” Gale says, and then he flinches because he feels like someone has just smacked an open palm over his face. He stares down at his hands, which haven’t moved, and looks around his kitchen again. It’s still empty, if warm and cozy, the morning sun dappled on his honey-colored floorboards and baskets of fruits and grains hanging from various hooks, humming with spells to stay fresh. There’s the wall of shelved preserves and drawers of ingredients, everything in its right place. A fire crackles in the hearth, ready to cook his breakfast, and a few birds land periodically on his windowsill, twittering merrily as if they know that Tara’s not about. But for those birds, it’s just Gale here, alone in his kitchen. Did you feel that? Astarion asks in his head. Gale narrows his eyes at—at nothing. His still empty kitchen. He’s beginning to wonder if he might still be rather drunk. What about this? Invisible fingers pinch at Gale’s left nipple, sharp and sudden, with a familiar twist—“Ouch!” Gale yelps, clutching his hand over his chest. “That was—how did you—that was entirely inappropriate given the current state of our relationship—or lack thereof—” Gale Astarion cuts in mentally, even managing a long, mental sigh. Stop talking. You’re giving me a bloody headache. I woke up with a headache Gale thinks forcefully, lips pressed together in consternation. Did you give that to me? From your waking musings, I believe the headache is from the alcohol last night, you lightweight Astarion tells him. Gale feels his face go hot. So you heard—I mean, you can hear— I can hear your thoughts, darling; at least the ones that make sense. Some of them are too fast for me, especially when you’re talking—and gods, that makes so much sense. As his knees suddenly go a bit wobbly, Gale sits down hard in the nearest kitchen chair and stares despairingly, still at nothing. I don’t understand he thinks pointedly, beyond caring about the admission. He doesn’t even mind Astarion’s answering jab. Well, that must be a first.
tagging @ashamedbliss @junietuesday @hausofthestars @shallanigans and @koalamatcha to share snippets (with zero pressure!!)
#bloodweave#bloodweave wip#wip snip#oflights#mindreading fic#oh william stanley we're really in it now
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wip tease number god knows, truly
The phone doesn’t ring for more than two seconds. Which is crazy, because New Altea is an unfathomably huge number of lightyears away and also Lance’s phone signal is perpetually garbage.
“Ahoy,” greets Allura when the line connects, because she is strange.
“Ahoy,” Lance greets back, because he loves her.
They sit in silence. He can hear, vaguely, the clicking sounds of compacts being opened and closed, and the particular humming noise she always makes when she’s putting on eyeliner.
It occurs to Lance, for the first time, that they have known each other so long and so closely that to the outsider, their relationship might be quite strange. The thought makes him smile widely.
“So,” he says.
Allura hums again. Deliberately, this time.
Lance takes another long time to answer, digging the toe of his boots into the ground. He spies a worm wiggling in the newly churned dirt and bends down to pluck it, writhing, out of its hovel. He quickly snaps a picture and sends it to Pidge with the caption, ‘didn’t know you were on Earth today.’ She responds with a grotesquely realistic custom clown emoji.
“There is a possibility. Perhaps. That I do not actually want to be a farmer.”
“No shit,” replies the Queen of New Altea And Also Lots Of Other Things Lance Can’t Remember, blithely.
Lance sniffs haughtily. “This is quite the revelation, you know. I’ve had four panic attacks about it.”
“You have an anxiety disorder. You had a panic attack about malevolent gut bacteria last week.”
“…This is true.”
“Also, whenever I feel you need to be humbled, I ask your mother to send me stuff from your childhood. There’s a video in particular I enjoy of you sobbing about the prospect of being anything but an astronaut. You looked at a cornfield and threw up. You were four, I believe.”
Lance does, actually, vaguely remember that. Well, he remembers Luis writhing on the floor, weeping with laughter, and kicking him in the shins. He also remembers the cornfield, if only because he distinctly remembers lobbing a piece of corn at Luis’ head, also.
He was a very expressive child. Also, Luis is a turd.
“I am entitled to a period of self-reflection,” Lance says primly.
“It has been an Entire Year, knobhead.”
“I needed time to collect my thoughts in peace and on Earth. I died, you know.”
“Oh, did you,” says Allura drily. “I wonder how that went.”
Lance’s smile widens. He lets her have this one. “Fuck farming, okay. I’m bored. I love my family to pieces but I need to be closer to drama. Give me a job.”
“That is a garbage application, Leandro.” He hears the distinct sound of a nail polish bottle being shaken. “I should hire someone more qualified.”
“How about you hire deez nuts.”
“Hm,” she says, and he can hear her grinning. “On the other hand, I need a second in command who is unafraid to challenge me. You know, in case I grow corrupt with power.”
She pretends to deliberate for a moment.
“You’re hired. I’ll send someone to come pick you up tomorrow.”
“Is that someone going to be a hot, tall Altean in a slutty outfit?” Lance asks hopefully.
She can’t help a laugh. Lance grins triumphantly. “You’re fired.”
“Is that a yes?”
“I’ll think about it.”
She hangs up.
#this is going to be diplomat lance bodyguard keith post canon divergence no one let me forget to write this#vld#voltron#lance#lance mcclain#allura#princess allura#lance & allura#i simply love them#post canon#canon divergence#pre klance#pining lance#diplomat lance#wip tease#my writing#fic
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Oh my god new fic option? Count me in!! Especially with angst and misery abounding around the holidays. 🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓
And then I’m always wanting more of Buck and Eddie and Shannon, and now we have little Jane!! Ugh, amazing story, love it. 🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼
And then because it’s me I’m also going to request some trans!Eddie if given the option! Honestly, of all of your current WIPs, I think I’m most excited to read this one in its entirety. 🧜🏼♂️🧜🏼♂️🧜🏼♂️🧜🏼♂️🧜🏼♂️🧜🏼♂️🧜🏼♂️🧜🏼♂️🧜🏼♂️🧜🏼♂️🧜🏼♂️🧜🏼♂️🧜🏼♂️🧜🏼♂️🧜🏼♂️🧜🏼♂️🧜🏼♂️.
- Sarah
Hi Sarah!!
Ah yay thank you! 60 for 🐓:
---
It sounds like maybe she actually does want to know. Well… What the hell?
“Uh, you remember Eddie?”
“Your friend?” She asks.
It feels reductive. His friend. But yeah. That’s exactly right. How would she know any differently?
“Yeah, him,” Buck says. “He, uh… He had some bad family circumstances come up and, uh… He had to move back to Texas.”
Margaret’s face twitches with a lack of comprehension. “And that’s what’s got you so down?”
Buck nods. “Yeah. He’s… He’s the best friend I’ve ever had. I miss him.”
“Well, cheer up, Evan,” she says. Not unkindly. Just, a little nonchalantly. “What’s that saying? You know people for a reason, a season, or a lifetime?”
Buck’s stomach twists. It was supposed to be a lifetime. Buck is in his damn will. He’s carved into every part of Buck. What kind of fucking reason or season is that?
“Yeah, maybe,” Buck says anyway. Because he doesn’t want to ruffle feathers today. Everyone else seems to be in a good enough mood. Even if Jee won’t be in approximately forty five minutes. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” Margaret says, squeezing his shoulder. Like she’s solved everything.
⬅️
Whatever good feelings he had from his mother’s efforts earlier in the day are sort of obliterated. He decides to take a nap at the same time Maddie and Chim put Jee down for one, and when he wakes up around dinner time, he can overhear them all talking about him in the kitchen. And, just like when he was a kid, he sits on the top of the stairs and eavesdrops.
“-surprised that this is happening again with Evan,” he hears his mother say.
“What’s happening again?” Maddie asks.
“His moods, Maddie,” she explains. “It’s just like the last time you were pregnant and we visited.”
“I remember that visit being outright hostile, Mom. Today has been nice, I thought.”
“No, no. He’s being fine. Just… Sulking? Mopey?” His dad says.
“He’s had a hard few months,” Chim protests. “Eddie-”
“Is alive and well,” Margaret cuts him off. “I worry he uses things like these for attention, when the spotlight would otherwise be on you and your new baby.”
Buck feels cold. Frigid even.
---
45 for 🔼:
---
“I mean, it feels like I did something. I just have no clue what.”
Shannon gives him a long look. She seems sad. For a moment, it looks like she’s going to answer him honestly. Then her face shifts.
“Nothing. You didn’t do anything, Eddie,” she sighs. “I promise. I just need some space, okay?”
Eddie is worried. Really worried.
“Is something going on?”
“No,” she says. “Please. Just… Please.”
“Do you want me to take the baby?” Eddie asks. There’s enough breastmilk pre-pumped in the fridge because it’s Eddie’s night to wake up with her anyway. “Give you a night to yourself?”
Shannon considers this. Worry flashes across her face at the thought of being separated from her baby. But then she nods a little. “Is that okay?”
“Yeah,” Eddie nods. “Yeah, it will. And if you need me to bring her back, I will.”
Shannon crosses her arms. “Okay. Thank you.”
When Eddie leaves the house with the baby in the backseat later, he feels a pit in his stomach. He has no idea whether or not she’ll be there when he gets back. As unfair as that is to her, he can’t help but think it.
🔼
It’s sort of an unexpected delight to have Eddie and Jane show up after nothing but a brief call announcing their plans to spend the night. Or, it would be. If it were under better circumstances.
Buck sits on his couch, holding Jane in his arms. His thumb gently strokes the soft hair of her head. Eddie paces around on the floor in front of them.
“Something is wrong,” Eddie says. “Something is really wrong.”
“Maybe she just needs a full night’s sleep?” Buck suggests. He looks down at Jane. “You kind of prevent that, huh?”
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51 for 🧜🏼♂️:
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“I’m not the one being unreasonable!” Buck protests.
He feels bad. He’s putting a decent amount of stress on Eddie. Nearly dying twice. Ceaselessly having issues. Having to continually hide a pretty serious secret. Not that Eddie doesn’t also have secrets. Just… Well, Buck’s is a bit more unbelievable. Plus, because of all this, they never got a chance to tell anyone they’re dating. Even if Bobby definitely thinks they are.
“I know this is really frustrating-”
“Do you?” Buck asks. “Because I can’t be a firefighter. It’s agonizing to shift. I feel like I’m trapped and can’t be two of these huge parts of myself right now.”
Eddie sighs. “Yeah, I do understand that actually.”
Buck’s cheeks heat. Right. Fuck. Of course he does.
“I’m sorry,” Buck says, hanging his head. “That was stupid.”
“It’s fine. I know you’re frustrated.”
Eddie stands to hug him. Buck dips his head down against Eddie.
“I’m sorry,” Buck says again.
“Don’t be sorry,” Eddie says. “You just… You need to trust that this will get better.”
“Will it?” Buck asks.
“Yes,” Eddie insists. “You’ll get those pins out, and it’ll help, okay? I know it.”
“You know it?” Buck asks.
“Mhm,” Eddie says. “I watched you heal a crush wound, Buck. This won’t be the thing that stops you.”
Buck takes a deep breath. “I want to believe you.”
“How about this?” Eddie suggests. “Tomorrow is Saturday. I’m at work. Why don’t you take Chris out to do something fun? Something to get your mind off it?”
#daisies and briars writes#you're far from home fic#buddie shannon throuple fic#take what the water gave me fic
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Behind Closed Doors
When Chase happened to mention he had to be out of his apartment for 24 hours due to windows being replaced, Wilson invites him to stay with himself and House. Chase gets to see a side of his boss few do.
Established married House/Wilson.
(This is the fic that got the most votes when I did a poll on which of my WIP people were most interested in.)
~~~~~~~~~~
Chase stood awkwardly outside the door of 221B, trying to convince himself to knock. It wasn’t too late to turn around, get a hotel room. Wilson had offered, nay, insisted that he stay with him and House for the night however.
Wilson was a nice guy. Far to nice to be married to House in Chase’s opinion, but the two seemed to make each other happy so he supposed he couldn’t judge. He doesn’t know what he’s so nervous of, he’s been at 221B before. He knows there’s no sex dungeon or large aggressive dog waiting on the other side. Maybe it’s that it’s his boss, that it’s House.
He closes his eyes, bites the bullet, and knocks. It takes long enough for someone to answer that Chase begins to wonder if this wasn’t some elaborate prank. While House is usually the one staging such things, it wouldn’t be unusual for Wilson to get involved. He’s about to turn around and leave when he hears the door unlock and it opens to reveal House himself standing on the other side.
“Um. Hi.” Chase says. He’d been hoping Wilson would answer the door.
“Wombat.” House replies.
House is dressed in one of his band t-shirts and a pair of loose fitting basketball shorts. His feet are bare and he’s leaning on the wall, his cane nowhere to be seen. They stand eye to eye for a few moments, neither speaking or moving, when a voice calls out from inside the apartment.
“Don’t just stand there, invite him in!” It’s Wilson’s voice, and it holds a tone of fond exasperation.
House doesn’t say anything, but turns around and limps into the apartment. Chase glances around, but ultimately follows him in. Given House’s lack shoes he opts to remove his own. He’s more comfortable that way anyway. He’s never understood why Americans wear their shoes at home.
House is sitting on the couch, and there is an American football game playing on the TV. The windows are open, letting in the slightly cool September breeze. He can smell something delicious coming from the kitchen where Wilson stands at the stove.
“You made it!” Wilson says when he sees Chase.
“Yeah, found the place alright.” Chase jokes.
He stands awkwardly for a moment, not sure where he’s supposed to be going or what he’s supposed to be doing. Should he be offering to help in the kitchen? He’s a little nervous to just sit down next to House. At work they’re comfortable around each other, hell the could go for a drink and it probably wouldn’t be awkward, but something about being in House’s domain makes him nervous.
“Sit down, make yourself comfortable. I’ll bring you a beer in a second.” Wilson tells him.
He does as he told, and sit on the opposite end of the couch to House, who doesn’t acknowledge him.
“You want another beer, Greg?” Wilson sticks his head out of the kitchen.
“Yeah.” House replies.
It’s strange hearing House called “Greg.” He shouldn’t be shocked, they are a married couple for God’s sake. Still, House is one of those people who seems like he only has one name - House.
Wilson comes out with two beers in hand. He’s dressed in grey sweatpants and what looks like one of House’s t-shirts. It strikes him as odd but he reminds himself again that they are married. Wilson hands the beers over the back of the couch. Chase makes a point to say thank you but House just sort of grunts, eyes never straying from the TV.
After a while Wilson appears again with two plates full of what looks like homemade Pad Thai. After placing them in front of the two of them he leaves and returns with his own plate, sitting down between them.
The food is delicious. They all dig in with reckless abandon and take turns making comments on the game. House makes scathing deductions about the players personal lives and Chase has no idea if he is serious or is just saying ridiculous and offensive things to make Wilson laugh.
“Stop stealing my chicken.” Wilson says without taking his eyes off the game.
House had been using his chopsticks to steal bits of chicken off the edge of Wilson’s plate.
“You barely gave me any.” House whined.
“I gave you plenty.” Wilson replied as if reasoning with a small child.
“Fine. But it tastes better when it’s yours.” House’s voice held a tone of flirtation which Chase took as his cue to go grab a beer from the fridge.
He felt lucky that Wilson didn’t seem to escalate the situation in an amorous direction, though when he was returning from the kitchen he did catch Wilson feeding House a piece of chicken from his own plate.
House and Wilson finished their food before he did, and they both took their plates out to the kitchen. Chase paid them no mind, until he heard House’s voice speaking in a low register.
“Dinner was extremely acceptable.” He said as he leaned on the kitchen island.
“Oh my, that’s almost a compliment.” Wilson replied, placing both hands on either side of House’s hips on the island, leaning into his space.
It was like watching a car crash, Chase thought as Wilson pressed a deep kiss to House’s mouth. He didn’t want to be watching his boss and his husband make out, yet he couldn’t quite look away. It was so odd, seeing them in this domestic light. While everyone at work knew they were married, they didn’t really engage in a lot of PDA.
“If you want to thank me for that extremely acceptable dinner, I can think of a way.” Wilson rasped when he pulled away from the kiss.
One of Wilson’s hands moved from it’s place by House’s hip, to grab a handful of his ass.
Chase immediately turned back to the game. That was more than he needed to know about the intimate dynamics of their marriage. He quickly finished his food, and excused himself to the bathroom. When he returned House was on the floor in front of the TV, pulling at something on the stand.
“Wilson!” He exclaimed, far louder than necessary given that Wilson was just in the kitchen.
“Yes, Darling?” Wilson came into the living room, hands on his hips and smirk on his face.
“Where are the cables for the PlayStation?”
Wilson’s eyes lit up, seeming quite pleased with himself. Chase wasn’t sure he wanted to know what was going on.
“It’s your night to do the dishes.” Wilson stated, still in his hands on hips position.
“Are you hard of hearing? I said where are the cords for the PlayStation.” House over emphasized, staring at Wilson with a Jack Nicholson level stare.
“And I’ll tell you where the cords for the PlayStation are, as soon as you’ve done the dishes.” Wilson mocked.
“You really think that will make me do the dishes? I’m a genius, you think I can’t just find the cords?” House argued.
“That’s exactly what I think. You can either spend hours searching for the cords, which you won’t find by the way, and then do the dishes or you can spend ten minutes doing the dishes now, then I’ll give you the cords, and you can be playing GTA before the sun goes down. But it’s up you, genius.”
Wilson looked exactly like the cat that got the canary as House used the coffee table to help push himself up off the floor, grumbling about how rude it was to make cripples do chores.
“I put the stool in front of the sink for you so you don’t have to stand!” Wilson called after him, before starting a ridiculous and frankly awkward looking dance of victory.
Twenty minutes later House limps back into the living room, declaring the dishes complete. Wilson goes as far as to inspect the kitchen, including opening the oven for some reason, before opening the cupboard under the sink and pulling out a blue bucket filled with cleaning supplies. Reaching his hand inside he produces the cords, handing them to House.
“There you go, have fun.” He says with a fond smile.
Chase is truthfully confused. Wilson cooked dinner, had his food stolen by House, at some point he took apart their PlayStation and hid the cords just to bribe House into doing a completely normal household task, and yet he seems completely unbothered. In fact he seems to be enjoying himself.
House, on the other hand, seems slightly less abrasive though he wouldn’t go as far as to call him caring. He doesn’t really know why the incredibly kind Wilson tolerates him as his spouse.
Once House has the PlayStation up and running Wilson brings them each another beer and together the three of them play a few rounds of Mario Kart. They are all competitive and while Chase never manages to beat House, he takes solace in the fact Wilson does.
“Would you guys mind if I went out for a run? I like going to this trail just outside town so I’ll be gone a couple hours.” Chase asks.
“Sure but don’t think you can you use our shower.” House says, getting up from the couch to hobble over to the piano bench.
“He’s joking. Of course you can go for your run and of course you can shower after.” Wilson shoots a look at House, who is staring innocently down at the keys of the instrument.
Chase changes in the bathroom, and when he returns to the living room Wilson curled up on the couch reading a book while House plays a quiet, gentle melody. It’s shockingly domestic and Chase puts on his shoes and slips out the door quietly, not wanting to disturb them.
When Chase returns from his run, Wilson is still sitting on the couch but now he’s watching a black and white film on TV. House is stretched out across the couch, right foot propped up on the arm, left foot tucked under his right knee, and his head in Wilson’s lap. He’s also snoring softly.
“Is he…” Chase trails off as he toes off his running shoes.
“Asleep? Yeah.” Wilson says, not turning from the TV.
Wilson’s fingers are in House’s hair. Just absentmindedly stroking as he watches his movie. They look very sweet, the two of them.
He walks as softly as possible to the kitchen for some water, opening the fridge gently.
“You don’t have to worry about being quiet. He’ll sleep until I wake him up.” Wilson says.
He’s not watching the movie now, he’s staring down at House’s sleeping form with that fond smile on his face again, like House is the most wonderful thing he’s ever seen. Chase can’t imagine what about the misanthropic doctor makes Wilson so happy.
As Chase passes behind the couch, heading for a shower, Wilson stops him.
“Hey, can you pass me the blanket that’s on the floor behind the couch? It’s usually over the back where I can reach it but I didn’t notice it had fallen.” He explains.
Chase grabs the blanket. It’s brown and fuzzy, very soft. He wonders how Wilson plans on getting himself under the blanket without suffocating House when Wilson tosses the blanket down the couch to cover House’s body. He isn’t totally successful though, the blanket falls at House’s knees, bunched up.
“Would you mind pulling it over him the rest of the way? When it’s on the back of the couch I can pull it down to cover him but my throwing skills need work.” Wilson says.
Chase does as he’s asked. The blanket is quite large and covers house from shoulders to feet quite easily. It occurs to him that what Wilson said implies this happens a lot - House snoozing on the couch using Wilson as a pillow.
“Thanks, he gets cold when he’s sleeping.”
“Does he usually fall asleep at 9pm?” Chase finds himself asking. Wilson chuckles.
“Sometimes. People tend to write it off, because of his other eccentricities, but he does have chronic pain. It can be pretty tiring.”
Chase momentarily feels bad. While House’s frequent Vicodin popping reminds them that House does experience pain, they tend to forget that the pills don’t make him pain free, they just keep him standing. Chase heads for the shower with this in mind.
When he’s towelling off he can hear Wilson in the other room talking to House.
“Greg, wake up.”
There is some unintelligible grumbling from House.
“I know Baby, come on. Chase is going to be out of the bathroom soon so you’ve got to get up.” Wilson’s voice is terribly gentle.
Chase runs the towel through his hair, and hears more caterwauling from House.
“You can bring the blanket with you, and I’ll still cuddle with you in the bedroom.”
Chase lets out a small laugh at that. He never would have pegged House as the cuddly type.
“My cane - it’s in the kitchen.”
The first actual words he’s heard from House. Chase is fully dressed and could walk out at any time, but he finds he doesn’t want too. He’s learned a little about them as a couple from watching them at home, but he’s curious about their interactions when he isn’t in the room.
“Just lean on me Baby.”
And Chase can’t imagine House willingly leaning on anyone to help him walk, yet the next sound he hears is the uneven gait of the two of them.
“Leg’s sore.” House says, their voices growing closer.
“You’ve just been laying down on the couch for nearly two hours, I’m not surprised. You’ve got some pills in the bedroom, we’ll get you your bedtime dose and it’ll feel a little better. I can massage it too.”
“Hmm, love you Jimmy.”
“I love you too, Greg.”
Chase is well and truly shocked. House leaning on Wilson to walk, admitting his leg is bothering him, saying ‘I love you’, it’s all so un-House like.
When he hears the door to the bedroom close, he finally leaves the bathroom to get the couch ready. The light above the stove has been left on, and he isn’t sure if it’s for his benefit or if they always leave it on.
As he arranges the bedding to his liking, and when he’s settled down he mulls over his experience with House and Wilson over the course of the evening.
He is reminded of a cat that used to live around the dumpsters near his school when he was young. It had been white at one time but it appeared more brown from the dirt the caked in it’s fur. It was a vicious thing, anytime you got anywhere neat it, it would hiss and arch it’s back. His friends liked to laugh at it, but one day after school he went back with some food for it. He felt sort of bad for the thing.
It became somewhat of a ritual and slowly the cat stopped hissing at him when he would bring the food, until one day he was able to touch it. Eventually it would roll over on it’s back and purr when he came to see it, but only if it was just him.
He tried to bring his friend to see the cat once, but despite him having food and it being only the two of them, the cat hissed and arched its back before disappearing behind the dumpster. His friend had laughed and claimed he knew that cat couldn’t like anyone. He went back after supper that night and sure enough the cat greeted him happily.
He remembers how special it made him feel, to know that cat was friendly only to him. Even if no one else would ever know, he did.
And he supposes that’s how Wilson feels about House.
#house md#james wilson#hate crimes md#greg house#hilson#dr house#dr wilson#wilson x house#house/wilson#robert chase#dr chase#house md fanfiction#house/wilson fanfic#house md fanfic#housethemd writes
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#wip wednesday
Context: old gay men yaoi however not radioapple. SATAN X LUCIFER. Or lucitan. idk trying to come up with a ship name. Takes place after mastermind and spawned in after a what if question.
also two hot demons? millennia old beef? two big egos? a power struggle? (again, speculation)
SAY LESS
also gimme some time tho i'm desperately trying to fight my way out of writer's block STILL
without furthur adieu the yapping has ceased (under the gif is the little pathetic attempt at writing)
Lucifer POV (for context):
Did those fuckers even miss him? He hadn’t received a single text message about these Infernal Trials.
Lucifer picked up his phone and swiped into the 7 Deadly Sins Group Chat. A chat that had been silent since 1669. However, the mini group chat without that ass wipe, Mammon constantly being a huge douche was not. As a matter of fact, his little “friend group” were chatting about an upcoming meeting. In…”THIRTY MINUTES?”
He still didn’t have a clue why they kept including him in these chats. Ah, and douche bag numero dos is typing. Satan was rambling on about the trail, the time, the place, the venue, the seating, blah, blah, blah. Who cared? Well…what people cared who mattered? Lucifer blinked a few times, his fingers hovering over the message bar. Did he matter to them anymore?
That thought struck a rather nasty chord in his heart. His face twisted and he tossed the phone a few inches away from his head. It had been a while since he had done…anything. Anything remotely important. For the last few hundreds years he had been killing time…and it never seemed to fucking drop dead. His gaze scanned over his embarrassing messy room. The dresser had overturned makeup supplies with used makeup removers balled up into a mountain next to it. The work station, God, he didn’t even want to talk about it. It was all in all, a safety hazard with multiple razor sharp tools on the plush and unvacuumed floor, open paint bottles, stale paint water glistening under the Hell Sun and about a few hundred half finished rubber ducks glaring back at him.
He wanted to scream yet he couldn’t find the voice. How fucking pathetic was he? His wife left him, his daughter estranged, his once close friend group he willingly isolated himself from. And the sinners? Fuck the sinners. Naive Lucifer all those thousands of years ago thought he could make a change for humanity however they fucked it up. He let them run wild and they burned down the world. The worst part? Dear old weary Lucifer was forced to live amongst the ramble even if he chose to distance himself as much as he could.
There was no avoiding the Hell grocery store which, by Golly, was real Hell. The parking lot, the screaming children, the constant honking and bitching customers. He had to give it to the Wrath hellborn A Team for creating such a horrid thing, nothing beats a grocery store parking lot on a Sunday morning.
Well, maybe war crimes and mosquitos but that was beside the point.
And that reminded him: Satan. The other deadly sins. The downright audacity to not invite him to an Infernal Trial in God knows how long.
“You know what…FUCK IT!” Lucifer declared, digging into his shirt for his smushed pajama collar and straightening it out with his claws. With a skip in his step, he leapt up to his feet and crossed eagerly over to the dresser. Sitting there in all its glory: his wondrous iconic hat. Licking his fingers and slicking back his fluffed up blonde hair, he set the hat upon his head, smirking into the ever so flattering mirror that ogled back. “It’s about time I show them who's boss, hm?”
#helluva boss#hazbin hotel#satan helluva boss#hazbin hotel lucifer#lucifer morningstar#satan x lucifer#lucifer x satan#lucitan#satanapple#satifer#let's see which ship name sticks#wip wednesday#my wips
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