#haven’t read on thing by you that I didn’t like

[sincerelyengen]

blush ─── leah w.

masterlist.

"i made you blush! i did it!"

content warning: fluff, leah being competitive

You were never a blusher. No matter how many compliments or sweet pet names your girlfriend gave (as much as you appreciated them) could make your cheeks turn red. Certainly, you would grin over them and show your appreciation in other ways, but was never shown by blushing.

Leah was stubborn though, she was convinced she could get you to do it, constantly showering you in compliments and flirtatious comments. But to no avail, she never could make it work.

“You still haven’t given up about this, have you?” You questioned, watching the girl in front of you think hard about a new sweet thing to say to you in an attempt to make you blush.

“Absolutely not.” She grinned.

You rolled your eyes and continued on with what you were doing at the kitchen table, not paying mind to her antics. She continued to think though, attempting to come up with a plan.

Then, it came to her, a conversation you two had weeks ago. Something about a watch you wanted.

That was it.

A week had passed and you barely thought about the challenge Leah had set herself up to, her finally being able to drop the topic. However, the compliments never stopped and never would. Even if it didn’t complete her goal, she still loved to swoon over you.

The topic slipped your mind, too busy worrying about work and your life in general. So it was certainly a surprise when you opened the front door to your house to see it littered in balloons and a gift box and flowers sat at the table. Alongside it, Leah sat with a grin on her face.

“Welcome home, my love.”

“What’s all this about..?” You questioned, racking your brain of anything that was going on today that deserved this level of celebration.

It wasn’t your birthday, you hadn’t gotten a promotion, it wasn’t your anniversary, and you weren’t mad at her. So what could all of this be about?

“Just a little welcome home gift, I know you’ve been busy.” She smiled as she walked up to you, kissing your cheek and grabbing your hand to guide you to the table. “I got you a little something,” she explained, pointing to the perfectly wrapped gift box sitting on the marble countertop.

You grinned, still a bit confused on what this was all about, but still happy nonetheless. “Go on! Open it!” She urged, nudging the box closer to you.

You rolled your eyes at her eagerness and grabbed the box and gently removed the wrapping.

That was the difference between you and your lover, she was always eager and fast, you were always patient and slow. It was truly the perfect balance.

Your face lit up when you realized what was in it. You didn’t even think she would remember that you wanted this, it was barely brought up in a random conversation and you had even forgotten about it. “Are you serious Leah?” You cheesed, a wide smile spread across your face as you carefully opened the box to reveal a beautiful gold watch sat inside.

“Look at the top of the box.” She whispered in your ear, wrapping her arms around your waist and resting her head on your shoulder.

You did as she said and read the sweet note that was written on the inside of the top of the box.

Everything combined, the balloons, the note, the flowers, and the watch, it made butterflies swarm in your stomach and your face turn hot.

Leah turned her head, feeling the heat radiating off of your cheeks. A shite eating grin on her face as she realized. She let go and began jumping around like a child, running all around the kitchen with her hands up in the air like she just scored a goal.

“I did it! I made you blush!” She cheered running over to hug you.

“Shut up no you didn’t!” You laughed as she practically tackled you to the ground.

She was never gonna shut up about this.

[illusioninfnty]

Zombies Are My Sweetest Slaves!

જ⁀➴ Zombie Apocalypse : Day 27

feat. Simon "Ghost" Riley ᯓ★ Oh no! Your boyfriend got bit by a zombie! Good thing he still knows how to pleasure you!

warnings! : NSFW 18+, zombie!Ghost, technically monsterfucking, dubcon bc he is a zombie, humping, unprotected (and unsanitary) sex, creampie

ᯓ★ kinktober m.list || read on ao3

You close your book shut as you anxiously look outside of your window. The sun was setting quickly, and Simon still wasn’t back yet from his last supplies run.

He always came back before dark.

You contemplate going out on your own, but then shake your head at that idea. Simon could handle himself, and it was completely possible he just got caught up in getting extra supplies. You didn’t hold many survival skills like he did—if you left on your own, there was a high chance you weren’t coming back.

You bite your lip, beginning to pace around the living room. You and Simon were thankfully able to find an unoccupied house to hunker down in, away from the cities where the infected gather together.

“Fuck it,” you mutter under your breath, about to go out, until a bang sounds on the front door. You run over to it hurriedly, looking out the bay window to see a heaving Simon leaning against it. You open the door, practically falling over with the way he topples onto you. Thankfully, you’re able to pull him inside just enough to get the front door locked and shut. You kneel on the ground, pulling Simon into your lap.

As your arms pull away from him to get a closer look, you realize that he’s covered in blood. The blood soaks your hands as you realize there’s a lot more of it than you thought, his black shirt masking most of the red blood.

“Si, what happened?” you ask, your hands frantically searching his body for a wound.

“Fucker got me from behind,” he grunts out. His head falls back in pain as your hands feel around his sides. You lift his shirt up and gasp as the oozing bite stares back at you. The veins around it show through his skin in a sickly purple color, and he breathes in heavily as you touch the area around it.

Your eyes well up with tears as you lift a shaky hand to your mouth.

As the seconds tick by, Simon gets worse for wear. The pupils of his eyes begin to turn a milky white, and the bulging purple veins spread to the rest of his body.

“W-what do we do?” you ask, voice shaking.

Simon grunts again, his mouth opening and closing without any words coming out. “Sh-shhh,” he repeats, only sounds coming from his now decaying mouth.

Tears fall from your eyes uncontrollably as you sob over your boyfriend’s body. You know that Simon’s about to turn—it’s inevitable. But you also don’t have the strength in you to kill him. There’s nothing left for you in this world without him. You’d rather let him have you than put a bullet to his head.

As Simon begins to make sounds that are no longer human, gargles and groans coming from his mouth, you prepare yourself for your own death. Instead, you’re met with something else.

Something hard against you.

“Si…?” you open your eyes and gasp at the sight before you. 

Simon’s dick stands hard and at attention, bulging through his pants. You blink. You didn’t even realize that the undead could even get hard.

Your boyfriend jostles himself around a bit, moving more sluggish than usual. Despite that, he’s still able to manhandle you, pulling himself on top of you.

He grunts as he begins to rut himself against you, his hardness pressing against your cunt.

“Oh, Si,” You raise your hand to his face, rubbing a thumb over his cheek. “It’s still you, isn’t it?”

He grunts, and you could’ve sworn he nodded.

“I guess we haven’t done it in a while…is that what you want? To fuck me, baby?” you chuckle.

Simon responds with a thrust of his hips. His jaw hangs open slightly, and some drool spills out of the corner of his lips and onto your arm, but you don’t mind it in that moment—not when your zombified boyfriend who you thought was about to kill you, actually just wants to fuck you instead.

You start to grind yourself against him, working to pull your pants and underwear down your legs. It’s a bit difficult with practically all of Simon’s weight resting on top of you, but you eventually manage to pull it all down, the fabric pooling at your ankles.

A growling sound escapes him as your bare cunt is revealed to him, and you’re pretty sure that you know exactly what he’s trying to get across to you.

Swiftly, you work to undo his own pants, shoving them down to his knees. Simon’s cock springs up as you lower his underwear to rest around his thighs. Precum beads at the tip, and his cock throbs as he clumsily pushes it against your cunt. He attempts to thrust but he keeps missing your slit, grunts of frustration leaving him.

“Here, baby, let me help you,” you say as you take his cock into your hand. You give it a few strokes before guiding him to your entrance, already wet with your own arousal. His thick tip slides into you with ease and you moan, throwing your head back as you grasp onto his arms.

A strangled grumbling sound escapes from Simon as his hips begin to rut against you. His pace is slow and uneven, but his fat cock filling your insides up so nicely makes up for it.

“There you go, feels so good, Si,” you whine, thrusting your own hips up to meet his own. The sounds of the skin-to-skin contact ring out through the house, only second to the sounds of pleasure that come from yourself and Simon.

You stare up at your boyfriend as he fucks his cock into you, and you can’t help but feel like you truly see him, Despite his zombified state, milky white eyes, graying skin, and blood everywhere, you still see hints of your Simon in him. His grip on you is tight, fully encompassing, just like how Simon always liked to hold you in all hours of the night.

“I love you, Si,” you tell him, tenderly. The last time you told him was just this morning when he left for his supply run. You never would’ve guessed that would be the last time you would go through your routine, suddenly craving the previous monotony that you were frustrated by.

As you whisper those words to Simon, his hips start moving in a frenzy, grunts coming from him at a more rapid pace.

You throw your head back against the floor as his cock starts to press into places deep inside you, signaling your orgasm on. Your nails dig into his shirt as you feel yourself cum, your legs wrapping themselves around his waist as he continues to pound into you.

“Simon!” you yell out, and it’s accompanied with a low moan of his own. After a few more thrusts, you suddenly feel your boyfriend release his load into you, his thick and warm cum spreading all over your insides.

You pull yourself away from him, unconfident that he would do so on his own. Just as you suspected, his arms reach out to pull you closer.

“Not yet.” You lightly smack him away, watching as his cum oozes out of your swollen, achy cunt. “I’m still sensitive.” A groan leaves him as he presses his weight against you and you roll your eyes at his antics, sighing.

You let a silent moment pass as you stroke the back of his neck, ignoring all of the bodily liquids that cover you. Simon never once moves to attack you, something that you are incredibly grateful for—and something that makes you hopeful for your future.

“Si,” you start, swallowing, “I think we can make this work.” You cup his cheek and caress it gently, not caring about the blood and drool that sticks to your hand.

Simon lets out a long, deep grunt, nuzzling into your neck. You smile and let out a laugh, as his nose and heavy breath tickles your skin. It sounds like you’ve gotten his approval.

[aquaticmercy]

Blood Bound

Part 2 to Bloodlust Companion text: What is a Blood Bond?

Summary : You are blood bonded to Bucky. The problem? You don't know what a blood bond is.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x half-vampire!reader (she/her in mind)

Warnings/tags : Blood. Cursing. Sexual tension. Pleasure from a vampire bite (?). Brief mention of sex (not graphic). Violence.

Word count : 3.1k

Note : Reader is a daywalker like Blade. John Walker and Eric Brooks feature in this because I kinda tolerate John because I think he has potential to be a well-written character, and I loved the Blade comics as a kid. Enjoy!

Whatever manifested between you and Bucky after the feeding only grew stronger in the days that followed. 

It wasn’t just the bite, nor was it just the intoxicating power of his super-soldier blood; it was something more— it has to be. It was something that you could not identify yet— it was as if it unlocked something dormant.

You didn’t understand it. The only bond you knew of was the familiar bond— and that required Bucky drinking your blood, not the other way around.

You knew you should’ve read up more on the history of vampirism. Granted, your lack of knowledge at this point wasn’t entirely your fault— you hadn’t lived very long, at least not by vampire standards. You haven’t even lived through a human lifetime yet.

You had barely scratched the surface of the supernatural experience. Eric Brooks had told you to read thousands of ancient inscriptions, and you were even a quarter way there yet. 

Besides, maybe you were just overthinking it. Maybe this was just what it felt to feed on an enhanced being.

Of course, you had fed on people before Eric— Blade— found you. He had seen you as a feral teenage daywalker, reckless but full of potential. It had been different then. Human blood was good but not great, it just gave you sustenance. You’d always imagine you had to get used to blood the same way high school kids learned to like beer.

When Eric took you in, he gave you shelter. He gave you a home and proper training. He gave you bags of serum monthly— ones he developed as a blood replacement. He gave you scrolls to study, books to read.

He told you to never ever consume human blood, even if it means you would never be satisfied.

Well, you broke that rule.

It had been weeks now since you first fed on Bucky’s blood, and now you could feel him like a second pulse.

It started with small things. So small that it went unnoticed at first. You’d reach for a glass of water, only to have him pass it to you before you even realized you were thirsty. He’d appear beside you on missions, his arms raised to protect you the second you sensed an incoming attack. And his injuries—those bruises and cuts you’d tend to— left ghostly aches on your skin.

After the feeding, both your powers became something else entirely. 

Your already sharp reflexes were sharper, your speed more supernatural that it should be. Bucky noticed it too—he moved with more than super soldier agility, leaping over gates as if they weren’t there, dodging bullets with uncanny ease. 

It wasn’t just that. Your emotions flowed into each other in unexpected surges. 

When Bucky felt anger, a hot, restless fury built within you, too. When your mind was clouded by doubt or fear, he’d tense up beside you.

One evening, after a particularly grueling mission, you both stumbled back to your shared apartment. His shirt was ripped, exposing the bruises mottling his chest. He tried to ignore it, but he knew you felt it, too. 

“I need you,” he murmured, voice steady, almost begging. 

“Bucky, we can’t keep doing this,” You swallowed. “What if you get hurt?”

“I won’t,” he growled, fingers brushing over your cheek, voice thick with longing. “Don’t you feel it? I’m stronger, faster— I’m healing quicker than I ever have before. Whatever this is, it’s changing both of us.”

The words hung in the air. You’d felt it too, that surge of power, that electric hum that vibrated through your bones.

“What is this?” you whispered, not expecting an answer. “What is it doing to us?”

“Let’s find out,” he said, his voice a dark, thrilling promise as he leaned in, the heat of his breath grazing your skin.

You hesitated, a pang of guilt tugging at your heartstrings. “Maybe we should ask Eric. He’s dealt with this daywalker thing longer—he might understand—”

There was a glint of frustration in his gaze. “And have him tell you to stop feeding off me? To go back to starving, until you waste away?” His hand cupped your face, pulling you closer. “His serum isn’t working anymore. Cow blood isn’t working. You need this. And I’m not about to let you go through hell to satisfy someone else’s rules.”

You felt your guard slipping, his words and the heat in his eyes breaking down your last defences. He was offering himself to fill the void inside you. And you couldn’t deny him any longer.

Before you knew it, his lips were on yours, fierce and demanding, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you onto his lap.

Slowly, you let your fangs graze his skin, a soft, tantalizing scrape that drew a low groan from his throat. His hands tightened around you. With a gentle press, you sank your fangs in.

The first taste of his blood hit you like a shockwave, the way it did the first time. He flooded your senses in a dizzying head rush. He tasted so intoxicating that it left you gasping.

You felt his pulse in your mouth, steady and strong.

“Fuck…” he groaned, his voice rough, almost pleading. “Don’t stop.”

His words were a spark to the fire inside you. His blood was like a drug. You couldn’t talk where you ended and he began.

His hands roamed over your back, fingers tracing every curve, pressing you closer as if he couldn’t bear any distance between you. The way he held you, the way he breathed your name—it was like he was offering every part of himself to you

When you finally pulled back, Bucky’s eyes were heavy-lidded. He reached up, brushing his thumb over your lips, smearing the faint trace of his own blood as he gazed at you, his hazy eyes a mixture of wonder and desire.

“I’m yours,” he whispered, his voice a low growl.

Without thinking, you pressed your lips to the mark you’d left, your tongue flicking over the wound as he shivered. You could feel his pulse slowing, his heartbeat returning to a steady rhythm as the euphoria settled over him. He looked almost dazed, a lazy, satisfied smile on his lips as he gazed up at you.

“You really think Eric would understand?” he murmured, his voice soft but tinged with a dark humour.

You laughed softly, brushing your fingers through his hair. “He wouldn’t,” you savoured the warmth beneath your hands. “And I don’t care. This… this is ours.”

He let out a low, satisfied hum, his hand sliding down to rest on your thigh, his thumb tracing slow circles that sent a shiver up your spine. 

The feeding continued, more frequently, and you both realised the connection you felt went beyond survival in battle.

The first time you felt each other’s pleasure in bed, it hit you both like a wave, powerful and dizzying, sweeping through you so intensely that you weren’t sure where your body ended and his began. His pleasure sparked in your core, racing along your nerves like electricity, feeding back into him, and then doubling again within you. The feeling grew in an endless loop.

Every gasp, every moan became a shared experience, each sensation reverberating between you in dizzying echoes. His touch, as he moved within you, left you quivering; his breath against your neck seemed to burn, intensifying every rush of desire until you could barely breathe.

It was all-consuming.

And then, once, you’d fed from him in the midst of it, your lips against his neck as his pulse thundered beneath your mouth. The second your teeth broke skin, a flood of his essence surged through you, a rush so potent, so intoxicating, you nearly lost yourself in it. 

It was more than pleasure; it was pure, unfathomable ecstasy, a high that pulled both of you into an untethered oblivion.

Afterward, both of you lay tangled together, limbs intertwined. It was as though pieces of yourselves had fused. It was the most intense connection you’d ever felt, something neither of you could put into words. Even if you could, it would never do it justice. 

In the silences you shared, you knew that no other pleasure could ever compare to what you shared.

—

The mist hung thick around the old Hydra outpost, cloaking it in a damp chill that seeped into your skin, even with your heightened senses. The place reeked of decay and rot. A vampire nest thrived in the old base— newly turned vampires hiding from the world, growing stronger, more feral with each night that passed.

They killed people. They turned people.

You, Bucky, Eric Brooks, and John Walker were there to wipe them out before they could spread their sickness further.

Eric took point, his silhouette sharp in the mist as he motioned for you and Bucky to fan out around him.

“Close ranks.” His voice was barely a whisper. “No one goes in solo."

You nodded, knowing better than to push against his authority. 

John, off to the side, gave Bucky a wry look. "Better keep up, Barnes.”

You could smell the faintest whiff of fear from John—though he’d never admit it. 

You moved forward, sinking deeper into the ruins, stopped by cracked concrete walls that loomed like tombstones.

Your eyes met Bucky’s. 

As you scaled the wall together, Bucky’s fingers brushing the concrete just behind yours.

John huffed below, struggling to keep up. His irritation crackled in the air as he muttered, “I thought we were both supersoldiers.”

“You’re getting slow, Walker,” Bucky said, his voice a low rasp, though he didn’t look down.

Once at the top, you peered down into the yard below. The stench hit you—stale human blood, mould, the faint copper tang of vampire blood. You all dropped down with a quiet thud, though John was louder than you’d like him to be. 

“Left flank,” Eric instructed, motioning toward the entrance, his eyes never leaving yours. You nodded, gripping the hilt of your knife, feeling its hunger.

Bucky moved beside you, ready, his presence as familiar as your own heartbeat. John and Eric fanned out to the right, slipping into the murky depths of the compound with grim determination.

The first vampire appeared just as you and Bucky reached the door, its eyes blazing red in the dim light. It had time to hiss, but not to scream. You launched yourself at it, your knife slicing through. 

A second figure lunged at Bucky, but before it could touch him, you were there, your blade found the vampire’s heart.

Bucky grinned, a wild, reckless glimmer in his eyes. “You didn’t have to do that.”

You shrugged wordlessly, almost casually.

Inside the base, the halls were narrow and cold, every corner shrouded in shadows. Bloodstains smeared the walls, and the smell of decay lingered thickly in the air. You moved quickly, every step calculated, every breath measured. The vampires were emerging in hoards now, drawn by the scent of fresh blood and the thrill of a fight. They came at you in waves—fangs bared, claws extended, feral eyes blazing.

One raked its nails across your shoulder, tearing into muscle. You winced, and Bucky’s eyes snapped to you, feeling the sharp pain sear through him, too. He yanked it off, his fist connecting with its jaw with a brutal crack. You pivoted, driving your knife through its chest, twisting until you felt the resistance give way.

John staggered past, panting as he took down a vampire, his face slick with sweat. He cast a sidelong glance at you and Bucky, frustration etched deep into his scowl. “How are you both running circles around us?”

“Stay focused, Walker,” Eric barked, but you could tell he’d heard John. He’d noticed how your movements mirrored Bucky’s, how you flinched when he did, even how you were breathing in time with each other. Eric’s gaze lingered too long, as if he was convincing himself something he didn’t want to believe.

“You’ve been off the blood serum for a while,” Blade murmured suddenly, his voice low and directed at you. “What have you been feeding on, kid?”

“Animal blood” you said quietly, keeping your gaze neutral, slashing down another vampire with ease.

Eric’s knuckle tightened, and you knew he didn’t believe you. He’d taught you everything you knew, raised you like a sister. And here you were, deceiving him with half-truths.

Before he could respond, another wave of vampires rushed you from the darkness, cutting the conversation short. 

Blade fought beside you, taking in every detail of the fight, every flinch, every glance you shared with Bucky.

“If you’re feeding on something else, you need to tell me.” He stepped closer, beheading a bloodsucker without even looking at it. “Now.”

You wanted to tell him, to explain the connection you shared with Bucky, and asked if he knew what the hell was going on, but the words caught in your throat. 

The fear of his disapproval held you back. He had warned you so many times against crossing that line, of giving into the hunger that all vampires struggled to control. And yet… Bucky had been different. 

You shoved Eric back, drawing his attention to the fight. “Save it for later,” you said, your voice clipped. “We’ve got company.”

You turned, facing down the horde with Bucky at your side, the two of you tearing through the vampires with an intensity that bordered on frenzy. Each kill was swift— brutal. Your knife left trails of gore in your wake, while Bucky’s fists shattered skulls with merciless precision.

At one point, you felt the burn of a blade slicing across your forearm, a deep, ragged cut that sent a surge of pain up your arm. But before you could react, Bucky flinched beside you, clutching his own arm as if he’d been wounded too. 

His gaze shifted back and forth between you and him. He moved in close, his voice barely a whisper as he muttered, “This isn’t normal.”

You didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. You didn’t know what was happening.

The final vampire fell, its scream echoing down the blood-stained halls. The four of you stood in the aftermath, panting, bruised, and blood-soaked. The air was thick with the scent of the undead.

Eric’s gaze shifted to Bucky. “This shouldn’t be possible,” he muttered, almost to himself. “A blood bonded daywalker…”

Your heart hammered in your chest. You didn’t know what a blood bond was, never even heard of it. But the way Eric said it made your heart skip a beat.

Eric’s gaze softened for a brief moment, a shadow of pity flickering across his face. “If this is what I think it is…”

Eric didn’t press any further, but as you moved toward the exit, his words lingered in your mind, haunting and unshakeable. Whatever had happened between you and Bucky, you didn’t know.

And maybe, deep down, you didn’t want to.

—

As the four of you trudged out of the Hydra base, John caught up next to Bucky with a skeptical glance. His breath hung in clouds around them in the night air, but he ignored the cold, eyes narrowed on Bucky’s calm, steady pace.

"Alright, Barnes," he muttered, keeping his voice low so you and Eric wouldn’t hear. "You gonna tell me what the hell’s going on? Did you get a new serum or something?"

Bucky raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

"Don’t play dumb,” John snapped, frustration creeping into his tone. “I’m not blind. You’re faster. Stronger. You and..." He glanced in your direction before lowering his voice even more. "You both are."

Bucky shrugged, “Guess I’ve been working out,” he replied coolly, brushing John off with the kind of indifference that only seemed to make him angrier.

“That’s not funny.” John’s frustration was barely concealed.

For a moment, Bucky’s eyes flicked toward you, watching as you spoke quietly with Eric up ahead. 

“I told you, Walker,” he brushed off, “maybe you’re just getting slow.

—

The safe house was dark and quiet, a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. 

You barely had time to breathe before Bucky’s hand wrapped around your arm. He guided you into the bathroom, shutting the door.

Bucky’s lifted you to sit on the edge of the sink, his eyes taking in the blood on your shoulder, concern flickering across his face. 

The cut wasn’t closing as quickly as he’d like it to, your shoulder throbbing faintly— so did his. 

“Let me see it,” he said, voice low but intense, as he reached for the hem of your shirt. You started to protest, but he was insistently stubborn.

“It’s nothing,” you murmured, but even you could hear the strain in your voice. 

Without another word, he took off your tactical gear, the cool air brushing over the cut on your back. His eyes darted over the wound. 

Then, without hesitation, he pulled off his own shirt. “You know it’ll help you heal faster,” he whispered, his lips ghosting over yours before he tilted his head, offering his neck to you.

Your lips met his, almost desperate. You were satisfying a hunger as he pulled you closer, his hand tangling in your hair, your nails grazing his skin as you wrapped your legs around his waist. 

Then, slowly, you angled his neck.

You could hear his heartbeat, strong and steady, as you pressed soft, lingering kisses on his skin. 

Finally, you bit down.

A euphoric thrill coursed through you as his blood flowed into your mouth, filling you with a euphoric sensation that spread through every nerve, igniting something primal within both of you.

Bucky’s hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer. His breaths came faster as he tilted his head back, a low, almost pleading sound escaping him. Each swallow of his blood was a pleasure so vast it felt spiritual. His fingers tangled in your hair, nails digging into your skin.

The moment was so intense that neither of you heard the door creak open.

“What the fuck…” John’s voice was harsh and full of shock.

You jerked back, catching John’s wide eyes. He took in the scene— your mouth still stained with Bucky’s blood, his arm around your waist. His confusion morphedl into anger. “Are you… drinking his blood?”

Eric was right behind him, his rage thunderous. For a moment, he looked between you and Bucky, piecing it together with a calm that was worse than John’s horror. 

“This is what you call animal blood,” Eric said in a quiet accusation.

You glanced at Bucky, whose face had gone rigid. He didn’t pull away from you, his hand still resting protectively on your waist.

“I… I can explain,” you started, but even you weren’t sure what to say.

Eric’s gaze shifted from you to Bucky, a flicker of recognition in his eyes that turned grim. He muttered under his breath, “do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

-to be continued(?)

shall I make a part 3 or turn it into a series?

[lovegalor333]

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

safe house pt 2 (previous part)

summary: read previous part, this is a direct continuation.

content warnings: domestic violence

You wake up in your best friends bed, last night still fresh in your mind. It plagued your dreams, waking you up out of your sleep multiple times, heart racing in a panic until you realised you were nowhere near your boyfriend, you were safe. For now.

Nightmares were a regular occurrence for you, especially after his outbursts. You would dream of him choking you and you’d wake up gasping for air and he’d be sleeping soundly as if nothing was wrong.

You spent a lot of nights staring up at the ceiling not daring to even breathe too loud incase you woke him and you would wonder if this is what your life was destined to be like forever. Would you always live in fear? It felt like it. It felt like there was no way out and he had told you as much.

“You’ll never leave.”

“You couldn’t survive without me.”

“You need me.”

“Without me, you’re nothing.”

“You’re mine. I own you.”

“The day you leave me will be your last.”

He’d spoken these words for so long you believed them. You believed you needed him. You believed you couldn’t survive without him. You believed he owned you. And you especially believed that the day you left him would be your last. He had a short fuse, he was violent and unpredictable and one too many times you thought you wouldn’t survive his beatings.

You’ve been victim to multiple black eyes and busted lips over the most insignificant things. One time it was because you had fallen asleep on the couch after a long day. Another time it was because his team had lost a match. Bruises covered your body constantly and in the worst instance, you had suffered a broken nose. That time, you didn’t leave the apartment for weeks just to avoid the barrage of questions that you wouldn’t be able to answer truthfully.

Allie was no longer laid beside you like she was last night when you fell asleep, you wasn’t sure how long she’d been up, she must have been very careful not to wake you and you were grateful for the extra sleep.

You slip out of bed and catch your reflection in the mirror and you audibly gasp, “Shit.”

The bruising around your eye had developed overnight, it was a deep shade of red and extremely swollen. You traced your fingers over it gently and winced at the pain it caused. The split on your lip had dried over and a scab had begun to form, it hurt to open your mouth and you knew it would sting like a bitch when it came to eating and drinking. The hand marks around your neck had deepened too, they were more prominent today and you swallowed hard, remembering the feeling of the air be squeezed out of you. Your ribs hurt with every intake of breath and after lifting your shirt, you could see why. Your torso was littered with bruises and scuffs caused by your boyfriends foot.

You knew deep down leaving the apartment last night was the right thing to do, for your own safety but you also knew it will have made your situation today worse. You had to go back, there was nowhere else to go. It was your home, all of your things were there but you knew he’d be waiting, as soon as you stepped foot back inside and he wouldn’t be happy.

You could hear Allie and her roommates in the living room, they were talking in hushed voices but you could still make out your name when it was spoken.

You pressed your ear up against the door in an attempt to listen.

“I’ve known Y/N a long time. She won’t leave him. You think I haven’t tried before?” That was Allie.

“Obviously not hard enough, Allie. She’s being beaten black and blue.” That was Paige and her voice was raised several octaves higher, she sounded angry and you flinched at her tone.

“OK, calm down. Let’s just speak to her and see what she wants to do.” Jana tried to reason with the girls.

“No. Seeing what she wants to do isn’t an option. She’s brainwashed by him, not to mention scared out of her mind. Of course she’s not going to want to leave him but I’m not letting this go on for any longer. I told her last night was the last time he’d hurt her and I meant it.” Paige says quieter this time but she still sounded angry.

Last night was the first time Paige had seen you after one of your boyfriends outbursts and you hadn’t expected it to evoke this kind of reaction. Most people didn’t know what to say, they’d just ignore it. It was like the elephant in the room.

You’re crying now as you listen to the girls talk about you, you felt bad that you had dragged them into your mess.

“She can’t stay there anymore.” That was Paige again.

“That’s her apartment, she has nowhere else to go.” That was Allie.

“She’ll stay here until we figure it out.” Paige, again.

You appreciated what Paige was saying but ultimately, Allie was right. You weren’t going to leave your boyfriend, you couldn’t.

You dried you tears quickly and readied yourself to face the girls. Your hand shook as you opened Allies door and you took a deep breath as you stepped out. Everyones eyes immediately fell on you and you felt like a deer in headlights. Allie looked at you sympathetically while Jana, who hadn’t seen you last night, looked shocked at your injuries and Paige had a deep frown set on her face and it looked like she was about to cry.

“Thank you for letting me stay but I should be getting home.” You tried your best not let your voice falter but it came out in a shaky croak you cursed yourself for sounding so weak.

Paige looked at Allie, silently saying stop her but Allie just raised her brows in response as if to say what can I do?

“I don’t think you should go home.” Paige brakes the silence and stands from the couch.

“I have to.” You murmur.

“You don’t.” Allies also standing now.

“I do, you don’t get it. None of you get it.” You snap and run your fingers through your hair in frustration.

“No, we don’t, but we can’t let you go back there. You’re not safe.” Paige responds, walking over to where you’re stood and she reaches out to touch you or hug you, you’re not sure but you jump back at her advance.

“I’m sorry.” She mutters, letting her hand fall back down to her side.

You shake your head, “I have to go.”

“Y/N, please don’t.” Paige pleads and the tears that have been threatening to fall finally do and you’re sobbing in your friend’s living room, not knowing what to do.

Allie calms you down and her and Paige continue to beg you not to return to your apartment. They say you can stay with them for as long as you like and you allow yourself to dreams of days not poisoned by your abuser.

“All my stuff is there.” You whisper after a while. If you were really going to do this, if you were really going to leave him, it wouldn’t be easy.

You wasn’t sure what scared you more, going back and being at his mercy or trying to leave and him doing everything in his power to not allow you.

“We can help you do that. Ayanna and KK are coming over, we can go and get your stuff.” Paige tells you and you shake your head, “I’m coming with you.” You say, your boyfriend was unpredictable on a good day, you were not about to put Paige or Ayanna or KK in his firing line.

Ayanna and KK arrived shortly after and you sat awkwardly as Paige explained the situation, you felt like a victim, weak and frail and you hated that but the girls met you with nothing but love and support and you thanked them continuously as you drove to your apartment. You were really about to do this.

“I should go in first.” You say as the four of you stood outside of your front door. Music blasted from the other side so you knew your boyfriend was home.

“We’re coming in.” Ayanna states and your hand shakes as you push the key in the lock and turn it, opening the door.

“Just pack your stuff and we’ll get you out of here.” Paige whispers into your ear, she’s behind you and her hand comes to the small of your back and you flinch at the unexpected touch, you keep doing that but you can’t help it, you’re so used to violent hands, it’s all you expect now.

The apartment was not how you left it, in the few hours you’d been gone, it had been trashed. Dirty laundry was thrown onto the floor, dinner plates from last night had been smashed, pizza boxes lay discarded on the table, beer bottles too. This was expected, but what hurt the most was seeing your personal items destroyed, a frame that held a picture of you and your sister had been shattered, shards of glass everywhere, multiple items of your clothing looked as though Edward Scissorhands himself had got at them and your favourite books had the pages ripped out of them and thrown across the room.

You look back at the girls with tears in your eyes, trying to gauge their reactions and their faces say it all, “He’s a freak.” KK mutters picking up your cut up clothes.

You take cautionary steps to your bedroom knowing he’s in there.

“Where the fuck have you been?” He spits, he was laid on the bed but quickly got up when he saw you.

“I stayed at a friends.” You gulp as he steps closer to you, so close you can smell the alcohol on his breath.

“What friend?” He pushes, his hand coming up to grip your jaw, “And don’t lie.” He snarled bringing his face directly up to yours.

“A-Allie.” You stutter out and try to wriggle away from him but that only makes his grip tighten before he shoves you away from him making you stumble back into the living room. Paige is by your side in a heartbeat and you watch your boyfriends face contort into a scowl and his eye twitches in anger, “Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m helping Y/N get her stuff. You’re not hurting her anymore.” Paige asserts, moving herself to stand in front of you. You’re completely shielded by her tall, muscular frame and you were so used to seeing your boyfriend as big and intimidating in comparison to you but Paige made him seem nothing short of ordinary. At 6’0, she stood at the same height as him and her biceps bulged in her tight t-shirt making his look like nothing special.

He laughed a deep sinister laugh but you knew he found nothing funny and his eyes grew dark as he stepped towards Paige but she didn’t move one bit, she stood her ground, “Get your stuff, Y/N.” She says turning to you but you’re frozen in place, scared to move.

Your boyfriend notices KK and Ayanna and he scoffs, “What are these, your fucking bodyguards?”

You don’t reply so he lunges at you but not before Paige can pull you behind her again, “Back up bro.” She hissed holding her hands out to keep him away.

“Get your stuff.” Paige says again turning to you and pointing to your room and this time you move with conviction. You weren’t alone now, you were getting out of here.

KK helped you stuff what was left of your clothes into a suitcase. You collected your belongings from around the room, your stuffed animal, makeup, books, your laptop, packing them all into various bags. Your movements were rushed and frantic and your attention was on the repeated smashing and crashing sounds coming from the living room and kitchen.

“That’s everything.” You say to KK, zipping up your case and she nods, picking up multiple bags in each hand while you wheeled the suitcase behind her.

In the living room, every surface had been wiped clear of whatever stood there before, a vase was shattered on the floor, the coffee table had been flipped and a lamp laid in pieces on the rug.

Your boyfriend was fuming and he couldn’t get to you so he was destroying anything and everything he could get his hands on. You thank God that he hadn’t touched Paige or Ayanna, they just stood watching him have a complete meltdown.

“Ready?” Paige asks seeing you with all your possessions packed and you nod, not able to string together even a simple sentence. Your hands were clammy and your heart was beating so fast you could hear it. You never thought this day would come.

“You’ve lost your mind if you think you’re going anywhere.” Your boyfriend booms at you.

You walked to the door with hurried steps and he reaches out to grab you but you dodge his grasp, something you’ve been afraid to do for so long but you’re not afraid anymore, you’re determined. Determined to leave, determined to survive this relationship that’s been nothing short of hell on earth.

“Y/N if you leave, you’ll regret it. I’ll make you regret it!” He threatened, picking up a beer bottle and hurling it in your direction. You feel it brush past your ear before it smashes on the ground in front of you and you yelp at the sound as tiny shards of glass crunch under your steps.

“Get her out of here.” Paige instructs her friends, opening the front door ushering you all out but you stop on the threshold, “Come on, Paige.” You urged, not wanting to leave her alone in the apartment.

“Give me a minute.” Her words are softer and calmer when they’re directed at you. You don’t want to leave her but KK and Ayanna don’t give you much choice as they guide you away from the apartment that was filled with some of the worst memories you have.

You stay in the hall, the door to the apartment still open and you hear everything Paige says.

“Y/N is never coming back here. You’re never going to put your hands on her again. You’ve hurt her for long enough and it stops now. You won’t make her regret anything and if I hear that you go anywhere near her, you’ll regret it. Do you hear?” Her voice is strong and dominant and you hold your breath waiting for his response but there is none. “Do you fucking hear?” He must nod because Paige mumbled a good before joining you in the hall, closing the door behind her and you let out the breath you had been holding in.

Paige has the picture of your sister and you in her hands and she passes it to you with a small smile, “Thought you might want this.” She says and you thank her holding the picture close to your chest, such a small action meant more than she’ll ever know.

“It’s done, Y/N. You’re out of there and you never have to go back.” Paige says closing the trunk of her car after filling it with your bags.

KK and Ayanna are already sat inside, “Thank you.” you whisper looking up to Paige, her big blue eyes sharing down at you, “Can I touch you?” She asks tentatively and you nod. You want to say please but stop yourself.

And for the first time, you don’t flinch or recoil at Paiges touch, as her arms wrap around you protectively, you melt into her and just allow yourself to be held.

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

a/n: sorry this took so long, ive been so busy but thank you for all the requests for a part 2! i hope this does it justice 💋🫂

[angrenwen]

"

You took another deep breath and turned away from the mirror. Now was not the time to get into an existential crisis over your costume. You could always order a new one from the association later. You grabbed your phone, staring at the most recent message for a long moment, your heart pounding nervously.

'Ready when you are.'

You could hear Silver’s voice in your mind as you read those words, could see his reassuring smile, the kindness in his mercury eyes that didn’t quite manage to hide patient anticipation. He was looking forward to this, you knew. He had been there every step of the way, as you had dragged yourself out of the hole your failure and terror had shoved you into.

You didn’t feel ready to be a hero again, but you had decided that it didn’t matter. You would never feel ready. You could run those obstacle courses and simulations Silver built a hundred thousand times and not feel ready.

'Ready' you typed back and hit send before you could stop yourself. 

The hero association already knew you would return to active duty today. The substitute hero had left the city last night, looking relieved. His stay here had been exceptionally boring, since Silver had refused to challenge him in any way. Aside from bugging him a bit for fun, but his pranks were always harmless.

You flexed your hands and for a moment you felt all the scar tissue pull tight, stitched up wounds and surgery scars and broken bones that had taken months to heal. You weren’t ready, but you were sick and tired of sitting around at home.

You were sick and tired of being scared, of worrying. Of thinking about the next Class A villain that could show up with murder on their mind. You wanted to be a hero, still, even now. You wanted to protect people and help them where you could. You straightened your shoulders and walked forward, projecting a confidence you did not feel.

It was showtime.

*.*.*.*

You watched civilians cackle in delight as they were pelted with marshmallow butts the size of half your palm. Silver was bouncing a bit on his toes at your side, grinning so wide it must’ve hurt his cheeks.

"Well?" he said with a grin. "Aren’t you going to try and stop me? Oh no, darling, dashing hero!" He pretended to fall into a faint, hand theatrically pressed against his forehead. 

He tipped over with thoughtless trust, knowing you’d be there to catch him. And you did, hands pressed against his signature leather jacket as he draped himself over your arms with exaggerated drama. He continued, "Whatever shall I do, my evil soul quivers!"

You couldn’t help but laugh, tension you hadn’t been aware of sliding off your shoulders like water off a duck’s back. When you caught your breath again, looking down, Silver had the softest smile on his face, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He looked far too sweet for someone proclaiming he had an evil soul.

He straightened from his pretend fainting after a moment and tugged his jacket properly back into place.

"Good first day back?" he asked quietly, barely audible over the huffing and puffing noise of his Ass Kicker 50, it’s wheel of used but thoroughly cleaned and disinfected boots merrily pelting butts into the growing crowd.

"Yeah," you answered just as quietly. "Glad to see me again?"

"Of course, darling." His soft smile got a mischievous edge as it grew into a smirk. "But you must be losing your edge, you haven’t even disabled my baby yet."

You couldn’t help but smirk back, tapping a piece of plating. "Dead switch is beneath this thing, isn’t it?"

He looked startled, then cursed and grumbled, actually looking like he had no idea if he was frustrated or delighted and instead settled on a weird mix of both. "I was hiding it so well! How the fuck did you know?"

You gave him a small shrug. "It’s the only place that works and from the way the thing’s set up and built, it had to be in this area to avoid messing with the machinery. And it’s the only plating that’s not bolted down. Pressure opens it, right?"

You pressed down experimentally on one side and the plate popped open easily enough, swinging aside to reveal the big red button. Because of course it was a big red button. That was so very Silver.

When you looked up, his mercury eyes were bright and intense and that elated-frustrated look was still on his face. "And you once asked me why I fight you," he said, his quiet voice carrying a particular tone that you couldn’t quite place. It made you feel faintly flustered, though.

You fiddled with the plate for a moment, before closing it again. "Yeah, well, I’m just glad I’m not boring."

Silver drew up to his full height, actually looking affronted. "Boring? How dare you?"

The smile tugging at your face felt far too earnest and touched by half, but it seemed to soothe his insulted affront.

"I’ll have a conversation with whoever put that thought into your head," he said, pointing a finger at you. "And if it was you yourself, we are going to have a long talk."

Hearing a round of loud, delighted noise from the side, both of you looked over to see a group of goth teens cackling as they pocked little holes between the cheeks of their marshmallows butts.

"Ah, I knew I had forgotten something," Silver muttered and you dissolved into helpless laughter, ending up leaning against his shoulder and gasping for air.

By the time you calmed down, you were out of breath, your belly aching in the best of ways and you reached up to wipe some moisture away. Silver looked very content and happy, standing there and watching the machine pelt away, people jumping to catch the butts wrapped in paper to keep things sanitary. So they could be picked up and still eaten if they fell to the floor.

He was always so thoughtful, you thought, still leaning against him and not moving away. You had no idea what he got out of being a villain - well, aside from tax fraud, a bunch of other illegal activities and some very, very strange substances you were not going to touch, ever - but you were happy to see him happy. He deserved it.

"They needed that too," Silver said in this moment, nodding at the crowd. "This city hasn’t quite been the same since that villain attacked. They’re relieved to have you back and seeing us fight harmlessly should put more demons to rest."

You hadn’t even thought about that, too caught up in your own trauma as you had been. You looked back at the people and you saw that he was right. There was a visceral relief on many faces, a giddiness that was born half out of the silliness of the situation and half out of a release of fear-filled tension.

They had been even more helpless than you had been. Civilians with no combat abilities and absolutely no chance to survive the Class A villain. All they had been able to do was run while they had to watch you bleed and break and still stand up again and again.

Oh. 

A quiet realization struck you down to your core. You had wondered why people had been polite but not overly warm with the substitute hero. He had sent you regular updates on villain activity and how his patrols had gone, even if it had taken you a while before you had gotten the guts to read it all instead of only the summary. 

He had mentioned that people didn’t seem all that curious about him and he had sulked about that a bit.

All this time you had thought that you had failed them, these people who grinned and waved when they saw you. Who didn’t hesitate to call you away from the street and ask for help or offer you sweets or lunch when you had been patrolling for hours. People who let you hold their babies or hugged you when you brought their lost pets back.

But they hadn’t seen a failure that day months ago. They had seen you, standing between them and certain death and refusing to give up, no matter what. All because you wanted to protect them with all you had.

"Hey, what’s wrong?" Silver’s worried voice cut into your thoughts and when you glanced at him, his brows were furrowed. "Why are you crying? Do you need me to switch off my baby and back up?"

"I’m fine," you croaked weakly, though you totally were tearing up. "I’m just glad to be back, don’t read too much into it."

Silver’s face softened with a quiet bit of relief and he hummed in understanding. "I’m glad, too, by the way," he said after a moment. "To have you back that is. I may have been a wee bit lonely."

You raised an eyebrow, glad that no tears had spilled over. "You saw me almost every day."

"But not like this," Silver said. "Don’t get me wrong, I love watching you destroy the machines of the obstacle course or absolutely ace the simulations, but I missed going up against you like this."

You rubbed the back of your neck, straightening from your slouch against him. "You always say things like that with a straight face." You both admired him for it and felt envious. Sometimes you wished you could just simply say what was on your mind as well.

Silver smiled, a little lopsided and crooked. "Life’s short, so who cares what others think," he said. "All I care about is living every day the best I can."

You knew what he meant by that. He had told you a bit more about his fight against Terra after modifying some more simulations for you. You had even seen a glimpse of the patchwork of scars that fight had left on him, many of them surgery scars. He had barely survived his debut as a villain. His ever first fight and it had been against Terra.

"You know, I wanted to make the butts bigger," he said before you could say anything, smoothly but obviously changing the topic. "But there was only so much I could fit into Ass Kicker 50 and that just wouldn’t do."

"Are you going to run out of butts soon?" you wondered.

Silver hummed thoughtfully. "I guess there is a minute of pelting left at most."

The two of you waited until the machine stuttered and began to slow, the wheel of boots no longer finding marshmallows to kick into the crowd. Silver gestured grandly for you to go ahead and you pressed the dead switch with a small smile.

"Well then." He clapped his hands together. "I guess I should say hello to my favorite warden. He is ever so happy to see me every time."

You couldn’t help but snort, then you hesitated. "You know, you could just…go."

Silver actually looked a little insulted. "Don’t ruin my date with prison, my dear." He beckoned you closer with a finger, presenting his hands. "I want to see if I can walk out the front door dressed like a futuristic clown."

You blinked, in the middle of pulling out your cuffs. "What would that look like?"

He smirked as you reached out towards him. "I guess you’ll have to find out." He leaned in as your hands closed the cuffs around his wrists, warm skin pressed to warm skin and cold metal between. "I’ll make sure to make the news for you."

"Alright," you said, bemused and curious in equal measure. You noticed how warm he was, this close to you, your hands covering his. His breath smelled faintly of peppermint. "Come on, there are two new officers on the roaster who are eager to prove you can’t slip past them."

His face lit up. "Oooh, fun." He chuckled, low and menacing and for once sounding like the villain he was. "I do love ruining their day. Shattered dreams taste ever so delicious."

You rolled your eyes fondly, waving the waiting police over. They hurriedly hid the marshmallow butts they were snacking on and bustled over, trying to look important and menacing. Even if Silver was a very polite and very wonderful villain, he was still wanted for a number of crimes and the state really wanted to prosecute him.

"Be gentle with Ass Kicker 50," you told the clean-up crew who came in to tow the machine away to a storage facility. "She’s done good service."

When you looked back over to Silver, you caught the warm, unbearably fond smile as he watched you on his way to the police car. He cast you a wink as he got in, mouthing, 'Clown'. You playfully wrinkled your nose at him and saw more than heard him laugh as the door was closed.

"Um." A soft, hesitant voice made you look over and you immediately recognized the girl who had approached you. The teenager who had nearly died at your side months ago. "I’m very happy you’re back and that you made a full recovery." She thrust out a small gift. "Thank you, for saving my life."

"And mine." One of her friends bustled over, holding a little wrapped gift as well. "If not for you, I wouldn’t have made it."

You felt speechless, accepting the gifts hesitantly and that seemed to open the floodgates. You were swiftly surrounded by people thanking you and expressing their concern and relief in equal measure. Your arms soon overflowed with gifts, flowers from the elderly, drawn pictures from children and baked cookies from grateful parents. It nearly made you cry.

You did cry a little when you got home, sniffling as you sat in a pile of gifts, reading letters and smiling at the graceless but enthusiastic scribbles of a five year old. Suzie was curled up in your lap, fast asleep as a small bundle of warmth.

You taped all the pictures to one wall and pinned the letters to an old, large pinboard you had gotten a few years ago. You put the food away and the flowers into a vase and scattered the rest of the gifts across your flat in a smattering of decorations.

It had mattered. Ever single moment you had felt helpless and terrified had mattered. You hadn’t been a footnote on some document, lamenting a too early death. Because of you, so many futures still existed, those bright, burning lives not snuffed out by a cruel hand.

You would continue growing stronger for them all, you vowed to yourself. Even if you needed Silver to end the fight and save you again, you would be there. Standing between evil and everyone else as many times as it took.

For the first time in months, you felt like a hero again, too.

You dozed off with the news channel on and jerked awake sometime in the early morning hours just in time to blearily watch a repeated clip of Silver, dressed as a sparkly, futuristic clown, moonwalk dancing out of prison. There it was, his famous, Class A skill of getting out of trouble in the most ridiculous ways.

You were chuckling softly to yourself, reaching out to fish your phone from your coffee table. You already had a message waiting for you.

'Watch me, darling.'

You were still half asleep when you answered, a golden feeling like honey on warm bread filling your chest, 'Always.'

You hesitated, then tapped out one more message, 'If you have any more inventions, I’m ready.'

He answered immediately. 'Oh, darling.' It read and you could hear the glee in his voice in your mind, could imagine the way he brightened. 'I was hoping you’d say that.'

You loved this ridiculous, wonderful man so much, you thought, still bleary and half asleep. Your heart felt so full with good things it felt as though it was spilling over to the point where you had to squeeze a pillow, hiding a wide grin against it."

A Hero’s Return

Continuation of this little short story. No particular warnings, but let me know if I should tag something.

***

’Ready when you are.’

It felt as though the message was burning a hole into your pocket as you stared at your hero costume. Freshly laundered, repaired perfectly after your fight with that telekinetic villain and just as practical and flashy as before. It shouldn’t be scary.

Your hands weren’t trembling when you put it on, but it was a near thing. It helped to know that Silver was waiting on the other side, not a floating terror ready and willing to kill. If you failed, no civilians would get hurt or killed. You would not die knowing you had been utterly useless, or wake up miraculously to find hundreds of people dead because you hadn’t been strong enough.

You had grown stronger, you knew you had. Enough so, in fact, that the hero association had recently bumped you up to Class B. Which was a little frightening, you had never played in the upper leagues before and while you knew you were part of the bottom crowd of Class B, it was still very different to your comfortable, quiet little Class C.

You took a few deep breaths after buckling the last of your gear in place and you stared at the mirror, realizing that the costume didn’t fit like it used to. You had gained muscle and a bit of weight and…it didn’t look right anymore. The colors seemed too bright, the little fluttery accents you had once added to the design on a whim too useless.

Keep reading

[domjaehyun]

there's a stranger in my house (l.jn)

PAIRING. lee jeno x fem!reader 

GENRE. thriller, smut

CONTENTS. major character death, seriously dubious consent that turns noncon (please believe me when i say this), spitting, unprotected sex, fear play, oral (fem receiving), anal play, degradation, praise, biting, marking, ass smacking, mirror sex, non-consensual filming, choking, hair pulling (receiving), manhandling/strength kink, some role play 

WORD COUNT. 3.8k

SUMMARY. something’s not quite right about jeno, and you’re not sure what it is.

PLAYLIST. stranger in my house - tamia

NOTES.  hiii well. i can’t explain myself. important context is the movie “us” by jordan peele but if you haven’t seen it, i try to explain without explaining. READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION. happy birthday to my dear dear dear friend @renjunfocus!! i hope you all like it and don’t come tell me if you didn’t 💖 but if you enjoyed it, by all means let me know! 

“Jeno, please be safe tonight.” you say worriedly as he adjusts his costume in the mirror. “Halloween is scary; people are always doing something fucked up.”

“I’ll be as safe as possible, baby.” Jeno assures you, turning to face you with that crescent-eyed smile you love. “Plus, I’m literally dressed as a cop; they might think it’s real.” 

“True,” you hum, nibbling your bottom lip worriedly as you take in his appearance. “You look really… really good, Jeno.”

“Oh, yeah? Can I get a kiss for looking this good?” he asks hopefully, and you smile, leaning in to kiss him sweetly on the lips, Jeno chasing after you as you pull back.

“There’s more where that came from when you get back home.” you promise, and he gives you a cute frown before straightening back up and smoothing out his costume one last time.

He pulls you into a hug as he always does before he leaves and when he comes back, and you breathe in deeply, his comforting scent of peppermint body wash, a soft musk, and baby powder enveloping you.

He presses a kiss to the side of your head and slowly retracts from you, a hint of reluctance in his movements.

“I’ll see you in a couple of hours,” he bids you goodbye, blowing you a kiss before exiting your bedroom and, you deduce when the front door shuts, your apartment.

You decide to get cozy in bed and wait for him to come home while you read a book you’ve been neglecting recently, but it’s only about thirty pages in before your eyelids start to droop and you find yourself curling up under your covers and drifting off to sleep.

When you wake up, it’s with a start, sitting straight up in bed when you hear the front door shut roughly. You wait for Jeno to make his way into your room, surprise and confusion filling you when he appears and—

“You changed your costume.” you point out, and he looks down at it as if he’s forgotten.

“Some girl spilled her drink on me at the party, so Jaemin loaned me his spare costume.” Jeno answers with a shrug, and you nod.

“It’s hot,” you admit with a grin. 

He chuckles as he draws closer to you. “Oh, yeah?”

You nod encouragingly. “The robber thing is kind of a 180 from the police officer, but it’s really hot… kinda makes me a little flustered.”

“Oh, really?” he teases, and you nod again, slower this time. 

“The ski mask is a good touch; kinda scary, too.” you compliment, and his gaze darkens as he looks down at you.

“Are you scared, then, baby?” he questions, and you can hear the grin in his voice. “Hm? The big, scary robber’s making you nervous?”

“Oh, yes, mister robber, sir, please! You can take all my money, just please don’t hurt me!” you plead, clasping your hands together and blinking up at him through your lashes.

“It’s not money I want, sweet girl,” Jeno growls through his ski mask, his voice muffled but still so convincing and deeply unsettling that you feel apprehension creeping up on the back of your neck. “Sit on the windowsill,” he grunts, jerking his chin towards the bay window beside your bed, and you climb to your feet, obediently moving to sit at the edge of the windowsill. The seat is cold on the backs of your thighs, making you wince slightly, and you find yourself drawing back in fear as Jeno stalks towards you and stands before you, practically looming menacingly over you.

He slams his hands down on either side of you loudly and suddenly, making you yelp in panic. “Relax,” he purrs, lowering himself so he’s eye level with you. “So pretty,” he rasps, tilting his head to the side as he watches you, but the compliment fails to warm your cheeks the way it usually does, because this time, it sounds… foreign and unfamiliar to you. It’s a type of observation Jeno’s never demonstrated before, your loving boyfriend usually eyeing you with adoration, love, or fondness in his eyes. Tonight, it’s different. It’s almost… sadistic in its fascination, as if the flashes of fear behind your eyes are fueling him somewhat.

You’re so focused on decoding the entirely unsettling look Jeno’s giving you that you don’t notice one of his hands sneaking up behind your back until his fingers are looping in the locks at the base of your neck and tugging your head back roughly. His eyes darken at the flash of panic and pain across your face before he’s ripping the ski mask off and practically smashing his mouth against yours, kissing you more ferociously than he ever has before. He’s all sharp teeth and forceful tongue, the wet, thick muscle bullying its way into your mouth as you whimper for mercy. His tongue swirls around the inside of your mouth possessively, coating every last bit of it with his saliva like he’s marking his territory.

He pulls back slightly before spitting directly into your mouth just as you go to gasp for air. You promptly choke on his saliva, coughing and spluttering pathetically as tears spring to your eyes. You’ve barely recovered before Jeno stuffs two fingers into your mouth, parting them in a V so your lips are stretched horizontally, and he wags his tongue lewdly in the open space of your parted lips, licking against your tongue with long strokes punctuated by guttural grunts of delight. 

He spits once more, a long drop of saliva landing on your tongue, and you whimper in protest, shaking your head in refusal.

He cups your chin in his hand with a firm, almost too tight grip, staring you down challengingly. “Swallow it. Take my spit in your mouth like the good little slut you are.” 

You blink back tears of confusion and hurt as you do just that, swallowing his spit, and he smiles, pleased as he pats your cheek roughly.

“Good.” he grunts, releasing you and knocking your legs apart with two quick slaps to your inner thighs. He drops to his knees between your thighs and yanks the straps of your satin nightie off your shoulders, tugging the fabric down to reveal your bare breasts. He pinches at one nipple, twisting until you squirm away from his touch. He latches onto your neck, biting roughly and sucking harshly and working his way downward until marks are blooming all over your sensitive, buzzing skin.

When he gets to your breast, he looks up at you, studying your reaction when he sucks as much of your breast into his mouth as he can fit. You hiss in surprise and move to push him back slightly, finding yourself overwhelmed by the intense sensations, but he snatches your hands out of the way, linking them together in his larger one before trapping your hands between your legs. He sucks on your nipples roughly, rapidly flicking his tongue over the buds and even nipping at them every once in a while, and you can’t tell if you want to moan or cry.

After what feels like ages of inner turmoil, he releases your breasts from his greedy clutches, your nipple slipping from his lips with a loud, wet, pop sound. He leaves a trail of bite marks down from the underside of your breast to your stomach, where he sinks his teeth into your flesh so roughly that you fear he’s aiming to draw blood. He pulls back when there’s a clear indentation of his teeth on you, marks that are sure to bruise, and spreads your legs as wide as they’ll go. 

“Been dying to taste this pussy,” he grunts under his breath, and you swallow thickly, watching him warily as he drags his tongue up your folds forcefully. Spreading your folds apart with two fingers, he prods the thick tip of his tongue against your entrance. You gasp in surprise when he slithers his tongue into you, the muscle fat and long as he moves it around along your inner walls. “Delicious,” he groans, dragging his tongue over your hole and relishing the way your hips jolt.

When two thick fingers push into you without warning, a weak moan falls from your lips at the surprise of the stretch. Jeno grins cockily, and it hits you what’s different: there’s a hollowness to his every emotion, like there’s a lack of… humanity to it.

Something about him is off; he's not acting like the man that loves you. He's touching you with the desperation of a man that's never had you before. He even smells different; like smoke, ash even, and something metallic and dark. What clues you in the most that this is not your boyfriend is that his signature scent, his personal blend of musk, is nowhere to be found. This man smells tangy, sharp, and strong, a heady blend but most importantly enough, not your boyfriend's blend.

This man is not Jeno.

“Um,” you pipe up tentatively, and he takes a minor break from licking at your core to look up at you with a raised eyebrow. “Who are you?”

With your question, the energy in the room shifts completely; a smile nothing short of sinister appears on his lips, and there’s a wicked glint in his eye that has you clutching at the windowsill.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he asks, and there’s an attempt at tenderness, but it all feels so deceptive, like he’s pantomiming an emotion he’s never experienced. “You don’t recognize me?”

“No,” you say breathlessly. “You’re not Jeno.”

“Smart girl,” he replies before lowering his head to return to eating you out. When you start to close your legs from fear and panic, he growls threateningly, the sound guttural and unnatural, and moves faster than you could’ve thought possible. He pushes the bay window open behind you, the bottom of the window swinging out, and forces you back and down until your torso dangles precariously from your tenth floor apartment unit.

“If you make any wrong moves, I will drop you.” he threatens, and you whimper in terror, the wind chilling your cheeks and rushing through your hair as you dangle, contorted partially upside down, at the mercy of this man who looks just like your boyfriend yet behaves like anything but. “Unless you’ve always wanted to paint the concrete with brain matter, I’d stay still.”

You nod vigorously in understanding, letting your trembling thighs fall apart once more, and he hums appreciatively.

“Like I said,” he remarks as he attaches his lips to your clit, “smart girl.” He sucks roughly at your sensitive bud with lewd moans and wet smacking noises and if he can hear your sniffles and whimpers of fear, he doesn’t comment.

The hand not keeping you in your life-threatening position strokes against your folds, parting them and pushing two fingers back into you, starting to pump them in and out.

“I’ve been waiting for this for too long.” he mumbles against your folds before proceeding to sloppily make out with your core, tongue slurping and licking at every drop of arousal that drips out of your poor hole. “Waited in the shadows, listening to that bastard fuck you every night—”

“Every night?” you gasp, and he chuckles darkly.

“I’ve been watching you both for some time now.” he informs you, fingers moving in and out of you while he speaks as if it’s the most casual conversation in the world. “He was a real fucking soft guy, huh?” 

“Was?!” you squeak in alarm, and he laughs loudly, fingers speeding up cruelly and hooking into your g-spot, making it abundantly clear to you that you’re about to cum, whether you like it or not.

“Oh, he’s not coming back, baby,” he says with an audible grin, malice laced in the pet name he so evilly threw back in your face. “Unless anyone at that Halloween party can perform open heart surgery.”

“Oh, my God,” you whimper, and you’re not sure if it’s from abject horror or your rapidly approaching climax. The unmistakable sounds of his fingers squelching in your arousal fills the inside of the room, loud enough for you to hear it from your precarious pose halfway outside. “Please, you have to stop, I don’t want to cum—”

“Do you think I give a fuck what you want?” he spits back at you, and you flinch at the venom in his voice. “All my life, we’ve been forced to mimic you all up here like puppets while you get to do whatever the fuck you want. Now it’s time to do what I want, and I? I want you to cum all over my fingers and my tongue.”

“Please—” you whisper, and he shushes you, the sound adjacent to something close to loving, but lacking any real sympathy; he must have heard Jeno soothing you at some point and mimicked the sound to the best of his abilities. 

“Cum, baby,” he urges, fingers pistoning in and out of you rapidly before he curls and fucks them directly into your g-spot and brings you to a powerful climax that you wish you could explain away to your guilty conscience. His lips wrapped around your clit, he sucks hard and flicks his tongue over the sensitive bud as you ride out your high against his face. 

When you’ve recovered somewhat, he looks up at you with a wicked grin, lips still glistening with your arousal. 

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he taunts with a sly grin, and you just sniffle forlornly in response. “Get up, baby—wanna feel that pussy around my cock next.” He pulls you up unceremoniously, shutting the window behind you and guiding you to the bed. He plops you down on the mattress and hovers over you, encroaching on your space bit by bit until you’re lying with your back on the bed and your legs are reluctantly spread to welcome him in. “You scared?”

“Yes,” you whimper, and he pouts at you, not a hint of sympathy in his expression. 

“Good.” he chuckles darkly before lining his thick tip—thicker than Jeno’s—up with your entrance and pushing into you with one fluid motion. You grab roughly at the sheets at the intrusion, gasping out loudly, and he seals his mouth over yours to silence your cry of surprise, tongue pushing into your mouth and licking into it filthily. “Relax, you’re never gonna take it well if you don’t relax.”

How the hell am I meant to relax when you killed my boyfriend and are in my home about to do Lord knows what to me? You think, but you refrain from mouthing off just yet.

He pushes down on your lower abdomen, groaning in delight as he feels the bulge of his length dragging along your inner walls, and you let out a choked-off squeak as he stretches you to your limits and fills you impossibly deep. 

“That’s it, pretty little thing, feel me nice and deep right here,” he growls, starting to move his hips faster to fuck into you at a gradually building pace. His hand slides up your stomach to twist your nipple before continuing up to cup your chin and turn your face towards the mirror by the door. You shake your head vigorously, not wanting to see yourself like this, but he holds fast, practically smushing your cheek into the comforter. “I want you to watch as I ruin you.” he urges, and you whimper in protest. 

Your face looks nothing short of fucked out, and he’s just gotten started; your eyes glassy with unshed tears, a few tear streaks sliding down your cheeks, and your jaw feels permanently dropped open as he fucks into you at a brutal pace. His sinewy arms hold you in place as he bullies his cock into your tight hole and his abdomen tenses with every thrust, tight muscle tensing and flexing in a regrettably attractive way.

He reaches in his pocket and takes out his phone, holding it up and aiming it at you. “Smile, baby; you’re on camera.” You reach to cover your face and chest immediately, crying out in protest when he snatches your hands away. “Don’t tell me you’re camera-shy,” he taunts cruelly. “That loser never filmed you two fucking?” 

“No,” you say pleadingly, and he tuts in disapproval.

“Sight as pretty as this can’t go to waste.” he decides, moving the phone closer to your face. Fresh tears spill forth, and he licks his lips slowly, watching one tear in particular drip down your cheek before leaning down and licking a fat, wet stripe up your cheek where the tear track was. “God, and now you’re crying—it’s like you’re trying to make me cum.”

“No, I’m not, please, I’m not—” you beg, and he shushes you impatiently, brows furrowed in concentration.

“Yes, baby, you’re gonna make me cum nice and deep in this tight little pussy—gonna fuck you full of my cum—” he grunts, and you squirm under his hold desperately, fighting to get free. “That’s it, struggle a little bit for me—so fucking hot,” he mutters before bringing his forearm to your throat to press down harshly, constricting your airway. “Not too much, now—don’t want you getting away from me.”

“Please—” you croak out, struggling to breathe. “Can’t—breathe—”

His smile only widens and two things dawn on you: one, he could very well kill you right now, and two, there’s no way in hell you’re going down without a fight.

You reach up and claw at his forearm, scratching as hard and as deep as you can, and to your alarm, he grins widely, even among the wince in his expression.

“Love that little fighter in you.” he growls, pressing down harder, so hard you fear it might bruise. “Can’t wait to break it.”

Your vision starts to cloud, black spots forming in your line of sight, and you can feel your consciousness slipping away from you even as you try desperately to remain awake and free yourself. It all proves to be in vain as you slip away from this world, barely able to hear his faint murmur of “That’s it,” before you pass out completely.

When you come to, your throat is sore and you can’t move your body. Your vision spins as you take in the sight of your bedroom, eyes squinting reflexively as the glare of the television hits your retinas.

You turn your head this way and that only to see, to your horror, that your hands and feet are tied to each bedpost with thick, coarse rope. No matter how hard you tug, there seems to be no breaking free, and panic creeps up your still hoarse throat, hot and thick and dully aching. 

The television catches your attention once more, your mind focusing on it in an attempt to calm yourself down, and you watch whatever’s on, your brain catching up quickly.

“...in what reporters everywhere are calling the ‘Doppelgäng​er Takeover,’ recent news has shown that people are being viciously attacked and some even killed by someone that looks exactly like them. If you see someone behaving not quite right, stay back and do not approach; they are known to be violent and highly dangerous.”

Your breathing hitches and starts to shallow rapidly as you start to hyperventilate, tugging harder and harder on your restraints. 

“They won’t budge,” Jeno’s voice calls out, and you flinch, whipping your head around to find the source of the sound. Jeno emerges from the hallway, now clad in a short sleeved black tank top and dark gray sweats. “You can thank Jeno’s mom for that; she signed him—and therefore me—up for Boy Scout training when we were eight.” He steps further into the room, dark piercing eyes scanning your frame trembling with fear. “Her precious Jeno never quite got the hang of the knots, but me? I mastered them.”

A terrified whimper slips from you before you can stop it, and his lips quirk up into a wickedly delighted smile.

“What should I, um…” you swallow thickly before continuing, “call you?”

“Jeno.” he replies easily, and his keen eyes catch the almost imperceptible grimace that takes to your lips at his answer. 

“What are you going to do with me?” you ask worriedly, and he raises an eyebrow.

“I’m going to keep you.” he states plainly, and your body stills entirely, fear igniting in your bloodstream and leaving you close to paralyzed. 

“What about my doppelgänger?” you question, not knowing what answer could possibly make you feel better at this point.

“I got rid of her.” His answer is simple again, and you suck in a breath of surprise. “She’s not as fun as you.”

“Fun?” you croak, and he nods, a gleeful smile on his lips as he nears the bed slowly.

“Doppelgängers are essentially a ‘crude’ copy of the ‘original’ person,” Jeno explains, making one-handed air quotes around the words he spits with disdain, “and only the ‘original’ person has a soul.” 

“So… so that means—”

“I don’t have a soul.” Jeno confirms with a hollow laugh made all the more terrifying now that you know he’s literally hollow spiritually, devoid of humanity. “None of my people do.”

“And you want my soul?” you ask fearfully, and he snorts in amusement, shaking his head.

“You really are cute, you know that?” he chuckles. “I’m not going to take it from you,” he says, waiting until your body slackens with relief to add, “I’m going to break it.”

“What does that mean?” you whimper, fresh tears spilling from your eyes. “Jeno, what do you mean?”

“I want you to understand that this is your reality now. I don’t want there to be any fight left in you at all. But you people are like that… hopeful,” he spits the word with disgust. “Your spirits are like a fire that won’t go out. Every once in a while, there’s a little,” he pauses to scan your face, eyes brightening with excitement when he catches sight of your eyes, no doubt reading the fear, fury, and desperation you have to save yourself— “ember… that sparks up, and I’m going to be here to snuff yours out every… single… time.” He’s close enough to bring his mouth to your ear, lips grazing the lobe and making you shudder with revulsion. “You’re not going anywhere unless I say so.”

You don’t say anything, setting your jaw firmly and staring straight ahead to ignore him. Maybe he’ll get angry enough and kill you, putting you out of your misery.

“There’s that little fighter,” he remarks with fascination. “I saw a hint of it earlier when I was choking you; that fight to survive, to live—you fucked my arm up pretty badly, I was impressed.” he remarks, extending his arm to show you the deep, angry, red cuts clawed into his forearm he’d wrapped around your throat just hours ago. His other arm emerges from behind his back, and your eyes widen when you see a Hitachi wand in his hand, his thumb already resting on the “on” button. “I am going to have so much fun breaking you.” he rasps with unrestrained excitement as he turns the vibrator up to the highest setting.

well.........congrats for making it to the end!! *insert obligatory "i definitely don't think jeno's like this" part that technically doesn't need to be there considering that wasn't jeno* i hope you liked it and if you didn't.... well sorry ig tune in next time for a lovey dovey fic 💖

[emmylksblog]

ONE STEP AT A TIME // Héctor Fort

summary: after a big fight, you’re feeling like a total fraud but still show up to Hector’s game. Emotions run high, but a sweet moment brings you back together. based on this request.

genre: slight angst, fluff

warnings: none

a/n: hey girlies! 💅 it's been a while since i last posted, where did the time go? life got hectic with uni and all that grown-up stuff that i just went survival mode for a while 😰 but i’m back tryna be consistent 🫶🏻

The final whistle echoes through the stadium, and as the crowd begins to disperse, you make your way to the players’ exit, weaving through clusters of fans. Your heart pounds, a mix of worry and anticipation tightening your chest.

You finally catch sight of Hector, walking off the field with a noticeable limp. He’s putting on a brave face, smiling politely at fans, but you notice the tension around his eyes, the way he tries to mask his discomfort.

“Hector!” you call out, your voice getting lost in the hum of the crowd. He turns at the sound of your voice, eyes searching for a moment until they land on you. His expression shifts—first surprise, then something softer, almost relieved. He takes a few hesitant steps toward you, and you close the gap.

“Hey, I didn’t think you’d be here,” he says, his voice warm but guarded. He tries to meet your gaze, but his eyes flicker with hesitation, as if he’s unsure of what to say after days of silence between you.

“Of course I came,” you reply, keeping your tone steady, though your heart feels heavy with everything left unsaid. You glance down at his leg, noticing how he shifts his weight to avoid putting too much pressure on it. “Are you okay? That looked pretty rough.”

He chuckles softly, rubbing the back of his neck, but the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, just a bit bruised. The medics insisted I sit out the rest of the game, but it’s not as bad as it looks.”

Your eyes linger on his leg, catching every wince and grimace he tries to hide. “Come on, let me take you home,” you offer, voice gentle but firm. He hesitates, looking like he’s about to refuse, but something in your expression makes him nod.

The car ride is quiet, the city lights casting soft shadows across his face as he stares out the window, lost in thought. You steal a few glances his way, trying to read him, feeling the weight of unspoken words between you. Your heart aches to explain everything, to ease his worry, but the words feel stuck, too fragile to break the silence yet.

When you finally arrive at his apartment, he takes a step out of the car, flinching slightly as he shifts his weight. You reach out instinctively, offering your arm for support. He gives you a small, grateful smile, and you both walk inside, each step slow and careful.

Inside, you help him ease onto the couch, and he lets out a deep, relieved sigh as he stretches his leg out. Without a word, you head to the kitchen, grabbing an ice pack and a towel. Kneeling beside him, you press the cold pack gently to his injury, your hands moving carefully, focused on not causing him any more pain.

He watches you quietly, his gaze lingering on your face. “Thank you,” he says softly, his voice carrying a hint of something vulnerable. “You didn’t have to do this.”

You pause, glancing up at him, your fingers still on the ice pack. “I wanted to be here,” you say, your voice barely a whisper. You drop your gaze, suddenly feeling exposed. “I know I haven’t been around much. And I’m sorry.”

His brows knit together, and he studies you with a mixture of concern and confusion. “What’s going on?” he asks gently. “You’ve been so distant, I thought… I don’t know, that you needed space or maybe… I was making things harder for you.”

You feel a pang in your chest, his words hitting closer to home than you’d like to admit. You try to find the right words, the ones that will explain everything without unraveling you completely. “It’s… it’s not you,” you say finally, glancing down at his hand resting on his knee.

Your fingers brush against his in a brief, hesitant movement before you pull back. “I just… I feel like a fraud sometimes. Like I’m constantly putting on a face for everyone, and I don’t know who I’m supposed to be anymore. And I didn’t want to bring you into that.”

He’s silent for a moment, his gaze steady and unwavering. Then, he reaches out, his hand covering yours in a gentle but firm grip. “You’re not a fraud,” he says, his tone soft yet resolute. “And even if you don’t believe that right now, I do. I see you—all of you. And I’m here because I want to be, not because of some version you think I expect.”

Your breath catches, the weight of his words sinking in. You look away, blinking back the emotions threatening to spill over. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a soothing, grounding motion.

For a long moment, you sit in silence, letting his words sink in, feeling the warmth of his hand against yours. Slowly, you look up, meeting his gaze, feeling a flicker of relief settle in your chest.

“I just… I don’t want to let you down,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

He lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as he leans back, still holding your hand. “You could never let me down,” he says, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. “We’re in this together, okay? Whatever you’re going through, you don’t have to go through it alone.”

His words hit you like a wave, and you feel the last of your walls begin to crumble. Without thinking, you lean forward, resting your head on his shoulder, feeling his arm come around you in a steady, comforting embrace. He doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t push for more. He simply holds you, his presence a quiet reassurance that, no matter how messy things get, he’s here.

You stay there for a while, the tension between you slowly dissolving, replaced by the familiar warmth of his closeness. After what feels like an eternity, Hector pulls back slightly, tilting your chin up gently with his fingers so you’re looking into his eyes.

“I care about you,” he says softly, sincerity etched on his face. “You’re not alone in this.”

In that moment, you feel everything you’ve been holding onto begin to lift, replaced by the quiet, steady assurance of his love. You’re about to say something, to thank him, when he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. The tenderness of the gesture sends warmth flooding through you, solidifying the connection that had felt frayed just moments before.

“Let’s take it one step at a time,” he whispers, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. And as you lean into him again, you know that together, you’ll find your way through the chaos, one step at a time.

[amiableness]

Peonies ; part four

Pairing: Theo Nott x Fem!Reader

Summary: Mattheo is in an awful mood after the party while Theo takes reader to the peony field.

Word Count: 4772

Warnings: Unrequited love & Mattheo and Theo get into it. Reader overthinks for a little bit. Mentions of drugging? One mention of Y/n. Let me know if there’s more!

A/N 💌 I can't tell you how nervous I am to post this, I feel like it's not my best work. But regardless, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. As usual thank you to @moonpascal for reading, helping me with ideas, and just providing support and comfort. I love you endlessly!

SERIES MASTERLIST <3

“Did something happen last night between you and Mattheo?” Pansy asks, throwing the door open with an expectant look. Despite your low mood, you can’t help but crack a tiny smile at the sight of her—hair a tousled mess, mascara smudged beneath her eyes. She’s the perfect picture of someone who had way too much fun last night.

“Is there any particular reason you’re asking?” You reply cautiously, eyes following her as she saunters over and slips into bed beside you. She gives the blanket a hard tug, leaving you to huff in irritation when she claims more than her fair share.

“Because I heard him and Veronica fighting. I didn’t catch much, but I did hear your name.” Pansy looks you over, taking in your rumpled clothes and tired eyes. You’re not in much better shape than she is, and she can't tell if it’s the lingering effects of last night’s drinks or the aftermath of whatever happened with Mattheo.

“Merlin,” you sigh, rolling your eyes and sinking deeper into the warmth of your bed. You haven’t moved since Theo left about twenty minutes ago, and you’re not sure if you’ll find the energy to do so anytime soon. Honestly, the idea of staying curled up here is more tempting than you'd like to admit. “We got into it again last night.”

“Again?” Pansy raises an eyebrow, shifting to face you.

“Apparently, he does care.” Your voice is dripping with sarcasm and frustration.

“He told you that?” Pansy shifts so quickly it’s as if you’ve shocked her. Both of you know very well that Mattheo isn’t the type to open up about what he’s feeling. Years of watching him around his parents taught you why—with how many times you had seen them scold him for even a flicker of emotion, it was no wonder he kept everything locked up.

You sigh, staring up at the ceiling, “He said he wanted me to admit I have feelings for him too.” Pansy's eyes widen, her mouth falling open as she stares at you in disbelief.

“Feeling for him too?” She echoes, and you finally turn to meet her eyes with a weak nod. Your best friend sits there for a moment, studying your face carefully before choosing her next words. She knows she has a nasty habit of saying the first thing on her mind without considering that it might not be what you need to hear.

Pansy sits up, grabbing the pillow she was using and hugging it to her chest as she stares at you impatiently. She’s waiting to hear if you’ve finally told the boy you’ve been head over heels for, for years, that you like him too. “Well? Did you?”

“I couldn’t do it.”

“Please, tell me it’s for the reason I’m thinking.” She all but begs, her eyes wide with hope.

You let out a weary sigh. “I don’t know when I stopped having feelings for him, Pans. I didn’t even realize I’d lost them until he asked me to tell him I felt the same, and there was just...”

“Just..?” Pansy prompts gently.

A pause hangs between you as you search for the right words.

You hardly slept last night; your mind raced with thoughts of the past few months, trying to pinpoint when and how your feelings faded so quietly. You had liked Mattheo for so long, even convinced yourself that maybe you even loved him. But how could you truly love someone who was so closed off? Sure, he turned to you when he was struggling, but that didn’t mean he ever shared what he was feeling. He liked your presence and relied on you to be there whenever he needed support, but he never trusted you enough to truly let you in.

Not in the way you wanted, at least.

If he wasn’t comfortable with his own emotions, there was no way he would be able to handle yours. Maybe that was the heart of it—the realization that he would never fully open up to you, and that had kept you from falling in love with him. And maybe that was the best thing that could have happened, no matter how painful or uncomfortable it was to come to terms with at the beginning.

Then there was Theo. Who had promised to help you get over Mattheo, and from that moment on, he was there for you without hesitation. He held your hand whenever you needed it, and honestly, you had begun to lean on him a bit too much—being close to him had become your favorite feeling. He never made it feel like supporting you was a chore; instead, he made it seem like something he had always longed to do.

In truth, everything had changed for you. Spending time with Theo was no longer just a way to distract yourself from Mattheo; it became where you wanted to be. Being around him made you feel safe and accepted in a way you hadn’t realized you craved.

And that was absolutely terrifying.

You sit up abruptly, fully facing Pansy, “When you said that you thought Theo would give me everything if I let him, did you mean that?”

“Babes,” she begins, sending you a soft smile. “I’ve always thought you would be good for Mattheo. You bring something out in him; he’s happiest when he’s around you. Veronica seemed to make him happy at first—” she adds with a snort—“but nowhere near the level you do.”

“But with Theo…” Pansy trails off. “I’ve never seen you so happy—and not the kind of happy you were with Mattheo. It’s not the relief of him not having a one-night stand or flirting with you a bit bolder at a party. It’s genuine happiness; you’re truly yourself. Theo brings out a different side of you, and you do that for him, too.”

Glancing over at the vase of red peonies, battling the tightness in your throat and the sting in your eyes. You decide you’d rather not spend the day in bed.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

Since last night, Theo has been struggling to push away the thought that maybe the idea of you having feelings for him isn’t so far-fetched. Especially after you’d implied that the two of you were together to the girl who’d tried to flirt with him. The way you’d intertwined your fingers with his, staking a silent claim that he was off-limits, had left him reeling. There was no way you’d be so possessive if you didn’t feel the same. At least, that’s what he’d been telling himself all morning.

And then there was the way you hadn’t been able to answer Mattheo about your feelings. Theo’s whole heart had been in his throat as he waited for you to tell Mattheo that you did have feelings for him, that you’d had them for years. But you hadn’t answered.

In a way, though, you had, hadn’t you? You’d pushed past Mattheo without a word and gone straight to him.

“Are you coming with us to Hogsmeade or not?” Enzo nudges Theo, pulling him out of his thoughts. The boys had all planned to go to Hogsmeade together this weekend, a plan set firmly in stone since last weekend. But when Theo saw you this morning, he couldn’t hold back. On impulse, he asked if you wanted to spend some time together, suggesting—almost shyly—that he could finally show you where he’d been getting the peonies.

“No, I’ve got plans.” Theo shrugs, and Draco sends him an irritated look from the opposite couch.

“We made plans.” Draco huffs, clearly agitated with the change. He always hated it when the boys ditched at the last second.

“Something came up.” Theo sighs, hoping that he’ll let it go quickly. He’s well aware that Mattheo should be coming down the stairs at any second. Enzo had told them that he was taking forever to get ready, probably hungover from last night. 

“You mean your girl.” Blaise corrects, and Draco looks disgusted. His head swings back to look at Theo.

“You’re ditching us for her? Mate, that’s pathetic.” Draco scoffs. “She isn’t even your girlfriend.”

“She’s pretty damn close.” Blaise points out, and Theo tries his best to ignore the feeling that jolts through him when he thinks of you as his girlfriend.

He doesn’t have a chance to say anything—not that he would have—before Mattheo walks over to join the group. He claps a hand on Draco’s shoulder, only for Draco to shrug him off irritably. “C’mon,” Mattheo says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

As the others rise, stretching and adjusting their robes, Theo remains seated, gaze fixed on the fireplace in front of him. Mattheo pauses, giving him a puzzled look, one brow lifting in question. “You’re not coming?”

“No.” Theo answers curtly, clearly uninterested in extending the conversation. The truth is, he hasn't spoken to Mattheo in quite a while, and when they do, it’s nothing but tension—a quiet frustration simmering beneath each exchange.

Mattheo’s curiosity sharpens. “Why not?”

“He’s got plans with his girl,” Draco interjects with a roll of his eyes, impatience seeping into his voice. “Now, can we go? We’ve waited long enough for you as it is.”

“Wait. Hold on,” Mattheo turns to face him fully, and Draco huffs when he realizes they’re not going to be leaving any time soon. “Your girl?”

“You know what he means.” Blaise interjects calmly, his eyes shifting to Mattheo as he watches tension coil through his stance.

Mattheo gives a casual shrug, though his jaw tightens. “No, Blaise, I really don’t.”

Theo huffs, rolling his eyes as he stands, making to push past. “Why the hell do you even care?”

Mattheo’s hand snaps out, stopping him mid-step. “You know why I care.”

Theo’s gaze darkens, voice low. “Oh, you mean because of your feelings for her?” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Does your girlfriend know that you told Y/n you’ve always liked her?”

Theo’s eyes flicker over Mattheo’s shoulder, catching the shared looks between Blaise, Enzo, and Draco. There’s no shock in their expressions—only a knowing look as if they’d been bracing for this moment all along. It’s unsettling, the way they seem almost resigned, like they’ve seen the tension building between him and Mattheo from a mile away.

Mattheo scoffs, an edge of irritation slipping into his voice. “Did she go and tell you everything I said?”

Theo raises a brow, “No, I overheard you. But even if she did, what does it matter to you?”

Matteo narrows his eyes, “Because I care about her.”

“Bullshit. If you cared about her, you wouldn’t have put her in that position last night.”

“I care about her more than you think.” Mattheo bites out, and the boys watch carefully as Mattheo takes another step forward.

“Right,” Theo scoffs, “You care so much you went and found yourself another girl.”

Theo sees it before Mattheo even speaks—the subtle shift in his expression, the tightening of his jaw, the flicker of defensiveness flashing in his eyes. “I wasn’t ready to—”

“So you weren’t ready for her? But you were for Veronica? I don’t get it. You can’t just expect her to always be there when you finally figure out what you want.”

Mattheo laughs in disbelief, “I wasn’t waiting, I—”

“Then what the hell were you doing?” Theo’s voice sharpens. “You had years to tell her how you felt, and you didn’t say anything. Then you get a girlfriend, she starts spending time with me, and all of a sudden, you care? Leave her alone and quit messing with her.”

“I’m not fucking messing with her—”

“You are. You’ve been doing it for years.” Theo’s eyes flash with frustration, and suddenly he feels the urge to make it clear that he wants you—that he always has, and Mattheo isn’t the only one. “She deserves better than someone who can’t make up their mind. She deserves to be someone’s first choice.”

Mattheo’s expression hardens and his tone drops. “And that’s you?”

Theo doesn’t have the chance to answer, because Veronica’s shriek causes both their heads to snap in her direction, “Matty!”

Theo watches as Mattheo steps back, anger giving way to frustration, a quiet curse slipping from his lips at the sight of his girlfriend. Veronica strides forward, pushing right past Blaise and Enzo without a second glance. Blaise shoots her an agitated look, irritation flashing in his eyes as she barrels through.

“I thought you said you guys were going to Hogsmeade.” Veronica smiles, reaching out to take Mattheo’s hand, but he subtly pulls away, dodging her touch with a flicker of impatience in his eyes.

“We are.” He grumbles under his breath, but Veronica keeps smiling sweetly, unfazed, as if her boyfriend hadn’t just blatantly brushed off her attempt to hold his hand. Mattheo turns to leave, muttering something to the boys, likely a brief comment about their plans.

Theo watches as an agitated Mattheo strides out of the common room, with the boys trailing behind him. But the boys glance back at Theo, their expressions a mix of caution and confusion. Theo turns to leave as well, but Veronica’s voice stops him, soft and pointed, just loud enough for him to hear.

“You should tell your girlfriend that last night was a mistake,” she murmurs, a sympathetic smile tugging at her lips. “Mattheo thought she was me; you know how he gets after a few too many drinks.”

Theo thinks about correcting her, letting her know that he doesn’t really know what she means at all. From what he saw last night, Mattheo was tipsy—not that drunk—and Theo has had enough years of experience to tell the difference. But instead, he shrugs it off, deciding he’d rather find you than spend any more time in the common room.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

“Hogsmeade is that way.” You say, a bit confused, gesturing in the opposite direction as you walk beside Theo.

“I know.” He replies simply, his gaze flickering back to the trail that you’ve never gone down before. Honestly, you had no idea it even existed. It’s evident that this path isn’t used often, as moss and grass have claimed most of the walkway. Vibrant wildflowers dot the sides, their colors brightening the greenery around them. 

He’s been quiet for most of the walk, which feels strange; you’re not used to this side of him. The more time you’ve spent with Theo, the more he’s opened up—sharing memories of his late mum, the weight of his father’s expectations, and his hopes for the future. These walks, where you slowly unravel each other’s stories, have become your thing, something that only the two of you share.

You frown slightly, glancing at him as you try to piece it together. “But I thought you said you got the flowers from a shop.”

“I never said that.” Theo’s lips curve into that soft, gentle smile that never fails to send your stomach into a flutter. “I said I’d take you with me the next time I went to get some. I never said it was in Hogsmeade.”

It takes you a second, too enamored with the view in front of you for it all to click. The walk isn’t long, but as you continue down the path, you spot a patch of red ahead. It stands out against the greenery, a cluster of flowers blooming a pretty, vibrant hue. You can’t quite tell what kind they are, but when you glance at Theo, you notice the way his eyes flicker nervously, and it suddenly feels like you’re walking toward something important.

But then it hits you all at once: “They’re peonies.”

On instinct, you grab Theo’s hand, giving it a playful tug to urge him along toward the blooms. He lets out a soft laugh at your enthusiasm, and a warmth fills you as his earlier mood seems to lift, the tension in his shoulders fading.

When you reach the edge of the flower field, you pause, still holding Theo’s hand as your gaze lingers over the vibrant blooms stretching out before you. Theo glances at you, heart beating a little faster as he wonders what you’re thinking, but he brushes aside his nerves and releases your hand, shrugging off his jacket to lay it carefully on the ground. You murmur to him, urging him not to squish any of the flowers, and Theo smiles, his expression softening as he gently reassures you that he won’t.

There isn’t much room on his jacket, so you find yourself pressed against Theo’s side—though you don’t mind in the slightest. He’s leaned back on his hands, while you sit cross-legged beside him.

The quiet is soothing, broken only by the soft chatter of birds and the occasional hum of an insect drifting from flower to flower. The warmth of the sun on your skin feels heavenly, its heat a welcome contrast to the long, cold months that have passed.

“Is this why you left? The first night you stayed with me?” You ask, glancing to the right to watch his reaction. 

From where you’re seated, you can see how the sunlight catches every small detail of his face, highlighting any imperfections. There’s the faint mole on his cheekbone, his dark lashes that you’re secretly jealous of, and the thin scar along his chin from when he fell off his broom as a kid. Another mark splits through his brow—a scar whose origin he could never quite remember, but has always just been there. It tugs at you, knowing you can recall the origins of his faded scars. It might seem trivial, but it means he’s let you in, sharing parts of himself that not everyone gets to see.

Theo nods, “I had to go early in the morning to give them to Pansy. With practice later, it was the only chance I could.”

A smile creeps onto your face as you imagine Theo, slightly awkward but determined, handing over the bundle of flowers and the little card to Pansy, who no doubt teased him relentlessly. You’d had wondered how she noticed that Theo was different with you, especially when most of your time together was just the two of you. But now, hearing this, you understand perfectly how she recognized a side of him that only seems to surface around you.

“I didn’t want to leave, y’know.” Theo continues, finally glancing over at you, and the effect is instant—those watercolor eyes meet yours, sending a flutter through your stomach as you instinctively lean closer, feeling yourself melt into his side.

“The flowers made up for it,” you tease, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Aside from you, they were the only thing that made me feel better.”

“Yeah?” Theo glances down at you, tucked into his side, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips. Hearing you say the flowers meant something to you eases any nerves he had—because they were never just a way to cheer you up. They were his quiet, unspoken way of telling you that he was there, that he cared. And that, despite your feelings for Mattheo, he was an option too.

“Yeah.” You confirm.

For the rest of the afternoon, you and Theo sat together, talking about whatever came to mind as you picked flowers. You gathered a few, but mostly you watched as Theo picked the ones he liked the most, adding to the small bundle that sat between you both. Watching him carefully select the prettiest flowers, knowing he was going to give them to you, made something shift inside you. If you hadn’t fully realized your feelings before, you were certain of them now.

You lost track of time with Theo, but eventually, he had to leave for practice. He handed you the freshly picked flowers and walked you back to the castle, stalling as if reluctant to say goodbye. In the end, you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek and murmured a quiet ‘thank you.’ You didn’t want to say goodbye either, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be the reason Theo might get into trouble.

It wasn’t until you got back to your dorm, leaning against the door with a giddy squeal, the flowers pressed to your chest, their scent lingering in the air, that the realization hit you. You should’ve kissed him. The thought made your stomach dip with excitement, and for a fleeting moment, you entertained the idea of running after him, catching him just before practice, and kissing him. Absentmindedly, your hand rises to trace your lips, lost in your racing thoughts. 

You’re so caught up in the moment that you don’t notice Pansy at her desk, watching you with an amused look.

“You look like you had a good time.” Pansy smirks as you startle and send her a look before pushing away from the door.

“Pansy, I’m fucked.” You whine and she lets out a loud laugh.

“You were from the second he stayed the night with you.” You pause for a moment, letting the realization settle in, and as it does, you know she’s right. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so safe with someone—not in the way you did that night. Sure, you felt safe with Mattheo, but it wasn’t the same. It didn’t compare to the way you felt when you were with Theo.

“Did you know he’s been picking me flowers?” You ask instead, setting the new bundle onto your desk before turning to face Pansy. 

“Oh, I knew.” Pansy hums, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. 

“How did I not notice?” You wonder aloud. 

“You were a little distracted.” Pansy shrugs, and you nod in agreement.

After Pansy tells you she’s meeting Blaise after practice, you briefly wonder if you should go with her. You sit on your bed, lost in thought, weighing the decision, but before you can make up your mind, Pansy is already gone.

As much as you want to see Theo, you hesitate, not wanting to assume that today meant as much to him as it did for you. It’s clear from the fact he’s been picking you flowers that he has feelings for you, but you don’t want to get ahead of yourself or risk ruining something before it has a chance to begin. So, you stay in your dorm, trying to focus on an assignment you’ve been putting off for far too long, though your mind keeps drifting back to him.

So when you hear the knock, your heart skips a beat, and before you can think, you're off your bed and rushing to the door. You know exactly who is on the other side and your stomach flutters in anticipation. You pause just before opening it, taking a deep breath to calm the flutter of nerves in your stomach, willing yourself to appear composed. 

You pull the door open, forcing a casual smile as you try to sound unaffected. “Hi,” you say, though your voice betrays the excitement simmering just beneath the surface.

Theo stands in front of you, one hand holding onto the doorframe. His hair is a tousled mess, and his cheeks are flushed—whether from practice or the rush of seemingly running here, you can’t quite tell.

And when he looks up at you, he’s out of breath and looks downright impatient, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” You pause, thrown off and completely caught off guard. That was not what you expected him to say, and your mind spirals into the worst possible conclusions. Was he regretting what happened earlier? Apologizing for showing you the flowers, or for picking some for you? Giving you flowers at all? Maybe his feelings for you weren’t strong enough, or perhaps he only thought he had them? The thought that it could be too soon after your feelings for Mattheo crossed your mind, even though you’d started moving on from him months ago, gnaws at you.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, releasing the doorframe and stepping forward, one step, then another. He pauses, giving you a moment to pull away if you need to, but you stay rooted to the spot, unable to move. Theo stands so close now that you have to tilt your head back slightly to meet his gaze. He reaches up, and your breath catches when his thumb gently brushes against your cheek, his hand settling just below your ear. His voice is quiet, but the weight of his words makes your heart stutter. “I should’ve kissed you, dolcezza.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles on your skin as he steps even closer, his breath warm against your cheek. His words tumble out in a rush, desperate and raw. “All through practice, all I could think about was you. The moment I walked away, I just wanted to turn around and kiss you.” His voice drops to a whisper, low and thick with a longing that sends shivers down your spine.

You murmur his name softly, but he’s barely listening, his gaze intense as he leans in slightly, his lips just inches from yours. “Fuck, you've been on my mind for months—years, if I'm being honest. I feel like I’m losing my mind, wondering if you feel even a fraction of what I do.” His hand still lingers at your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin, the warmth of his touch sending a tremor through you as if he’s waiting for something—waiting for you to say what he’s too afraid to ask.

It’s you who closes the distance, your lips meeting his in a sudden, fervent kiss that catches him off guard, pulling a surprised moan from deep in his throat. His body reacts instantly, his free hand snaking around your waist, pulling you closer, pressing you against him. The sound he makes causes a rush of warmth to flood your veins. He’s hardly touched, and you’re already too warm, and your knees threaten to buckle beneath you. You let him guide you backward, the pressure of his hand firm against your back until your steps falter just inside your dorm. Every inch of him feels like fire against your skin, and your previous worries fade into nothing.

Once you’re inside, he kicks the door closed with a thud but the sound barely registers. Without any hesitation, he presses you back against the door, his body close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him. But you want him closer. So much closer. One hand rests flat against the door beside your head, while the other cups your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. Then, it’s him who leans in, his lips meeting yours in a slow, deliberate kiss that deepens with an aching intensity. There’s no rush now—just an overwhelming wave of longing, a perfect culmination of the emotions you’ve both held back. Your head spins, your heart races, and you’re certain that if you could take your temperature in this moment, it would be burning hot.

But then, slowly, he pulls back just enough to break the kiss, his breath heavy and uneven. His forehead rests against yours for a moment, both of you struggling to catch your breath. You feel the urge to close the distance between you again, to press your lips to his, because there’s something about the way Theo kisses that leaves you breathless, already craving more. But then again, maybe it’s just him—the way his touch makes a thrill course through you.

“I wanted you to kiss me before you left—”

The door jolts against your back, halting you mid-sentence as Pansy’s voice cuts through the moment. “What the hell? Open the door.” You hold your breath, hoping that if you stay silent, she might forget the whole thing and simply go away.

But that’s wishful thinking: “Babes. Please open the door."

“I thought you were hanging out with Blaise.” You call back, stealing a glance at Theo, whose expression mirrors your own surprise. Before leaving practice, he’d told Blaise to keep Pansy distracted—he wanted time with you because he had planned on telling you exactly how he felt about you.

“It’s about Mattheo.” Your brows raise is surprise at the intensity in Pansy’s voice and you fling open the door without another thought.

“What’s wrong?” Theo stands behind you, watching the way your face turns nervous.

“Veronica’s been giving him a love potion,” she says softly, her eyes studying your face as it twists in disbelief. “He’s in the infirmary... and he’s asking for you.”

please please please consider reblogging or leaving a comment! it keeps me motivated to write, and reblogs help to spread my work 🤍

[separatist-apologist]

The Other Side Of The Apocalypse

What would you trade the pain for?

Summary: One last grand adventure. Rhysand had promised his father that after this final journey, he would take a wife and resign himself to inheriting his title. As it turned out, Rhysand had other plans, and so did the huntress he'd encountered in the village.

Note: Sending my love.

Read on AO3 ・Previous Chapter・Masterlist

Chapter 7/9: The Sunshine Of My Lifetime

Rhys couldn’t get the taste of Feyre out of his mouth. 

He’d tried, scrubbing his teeth twice and rinsing his mouth with something minty first, before chugging a cup of wine. Still, the sweetness of her lingered, making each step toward the sixth court miserable. Rhys wanted to return to Dawn and stay for the rest of his life, ideally.

But Feyre had been the one to insist they leave, Cassian trailing just behind her. Rhys liked Cassian, trading barbs and jokes for the better part of the morning. And his presence kept Rhys from grilling Feyre about their shared kiss.

Had she done it on purpose?

Had she enjoyed herself? 

Did she want to kiss him again?

Predictably, Feyre betrayed nothing, her face placid, blue eyes focused on the path before them. Thesan had taken them directly to the border with a casual remark about the tunnels between Dawn, Day, and Night closed for obvious reasons. Feyre had nodded sagely, but Rhys had no fucking idea what that mean. Closed for what obvious reason? 

Cassian walked between the pair of them, talking about anything and everything while Feyre stared into the distance. The air had become warmer and more humid with each step they took toward the Day Court palace. They should have asked Thesan to winnow them straight to the door.

Did there need to be so many rocky hillsides? Did the sun need to be so unrelenting? The sky so cloudless? 

“Tell me about Day Court,” Rhys said, trying to distract himself from how sweaty he was, and more so with how sweaty Feyre was. Tendrils of golden brown hair curled around her face while little beads of sweat slid down her neck, tracing a path he’d like to follow with his tongue. 

“You mean Prythian’s best court?” Cassian asked, earning a dark look from Feyre. “Day Court is home of countless scholars and even more libraries. All the knowledge of our people is housed here. It was the first court to be subdued in the ah…curse. The rest fell like dominoes.” “What can I expect?” Rhys heard himself asking, eyes darting from the unending hillsides stretched before him and Feyre half hidden by Cassian’s bulk. 

Cassian only shrugged, wings pulled tight. “I guess we’ll find out together.”

“Are you going to be helping?” Feyre snapped, wiping her brow on the back of her hand.

“Oh, I’ll leave that to you two humans,” Cassian replied with a grin. “I just need to speak with the prince.”

“The one who owes you money?”

“Lucien,” Cassian agreed, far more forthcoming than Feyre had ever been. “I haven’t seen him since the curse. I never thought I’d miss the bastard.”

“We just need to get in and get out,” Feyre said in that straightforward way of hers. 

“Eager to see the Lord of Night?” Cassian questioned. “You’re on your own for that fight.”

“Tell me about him,” Rhys said quickly, earning an exasperated sigh from Feyre.

“He can’t—he’s bound by the magic of the curse,” she said as Cassian opened and closed his mouth wordlessly. “They aren’t supposed to help us.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t tag along, see you get to the final trial in one piece,” Cassian said. It was more than that, though. Cassian had a mate riding on the outcome of things, and Rhys didn’t think he’d leave until she was either freed, or they were all dead. He couldn’t help, but that didn’t mean he had to stand idly by, either. 

He almost asked Cassian to just fly them there. Surely, with all those muscles, he could handle it. “There it is,” Feyre murmured, pointing at a blinding light in the distance. The palace, Rhys realized, with spires that seemed to touch the sun itself. The golden dome reflected the sunlight back at them, causing him to shield his eyes with his hands the closer they got.

Unlike the other courts, the Day Court palace was situated atop a winding hilltop they were forced to climb, overlooking what must have once been a bustling city. Where had everyone gone? Had they fled? He wanted to open the doors of the empty homes and try and make sense of it. 

Feyre trailed ahead, her back to Rhys. It was a nightmare—he couldn’t focus on anything but the sway of her hips and the way her braid moved back and forth from her shoulder to her spine. Cassain hung back, his expression wary, nostrils flared. 

“I’ll leave you here,” he murmured, not getting close to the entrance of the palace. 

“What about the prince?”

“I’ll talk to him when this is all resolved,” Cassian said, wings flaring. Rhys started to ask what he knew, but Feyre had vanished within the palace and Rhys felt compelled to follow her. The air smelled salty both inside and outside the expansive, marble palace. Was it beautiful? Perhaps the most beautiful place he’d ever seen?

The temperature dropped considerably once they were out of the sun, offering immediate relief. He could have used some water, but all things considered, Rhys was feeling a lot better than he had a few moments earlier. He jogged after Feyre, who was all but sprinting through the palace. 

“Where are you going?” he asked, reaching out for her arm. “I’ve been trying to talk to you all day.”

“Rhys,” she breathed, and was it his imagination or were her cheeks flushed? Eyes dark? Fuck, he wanted to kiss her. “We need to just…do this.”

“We do?” he gaped, mouth falling open.

Feyre exhaled, her breath sweet against his face. When had he gotten so close. “The trial. We need…Rhys…”

“Just one kiss,” he murmured, sliding his palm over her cheek. He was so close—his lips all but touching hers, when the sound of shoes on marble began to echo around them.

All of Prythian was conspiring against him, he thought as Feyre skittered back, hands balled to fists at her sides. With her back pressed to the wall, Feyre turned to the hall where the obvious High Lord approached. Rhys would have known him even without the obnoxious golden crown set atop his onyx hair.

“The human who has come to save my home,” he said, offering an outstretched hand to Rhys. He ignored Feyre entirely as if he didn’t see her, and though Rhys bristled that he was getting all the credit, he accepted the warm hand all the same. “Welcome to Rhodes.”

Rhys offered what he hoped was a charming smile, trying to match the man—male—before him. 

“Helion Spell-Cleaver,” Feyre said smoothly, unbothered in a way Rhys could only ever hope to achieve. “I thought you were locked up.”

“Life finds a way,” he replied, not bothering to explain himself to either of them. “Where’s Cassian?”

“How do you know Cassian is here?”

Helion rolled golden eyes, turning to look wholly at Feyre. Rhys didn’t like the look on the fae males face—that unguarded lust, that open hunger. It didn’t help that Helion was, by far, the most beautiful man—male—they’d encountered thus far. It didn’t help that he wore a white piece of material wrapped around his waist and secured with a heavy, circular piece of gold shaped like the sun, an arm cuff, and some wrist braces and absolutely nothing else. 

He might as well have been naked—Rhys could all but see the curve of his ass beneath the cloth.

“I can scent him,” Helion replied. 

“You know why he didn’t come in.”

Helion sighed. “This may be my last opportunity. Ah, well. You’re here…where did you start?”

Feyre’s eyes flickered to Rhys before she looked back at Helion. “Spring.”

“Is my court all that’s left?”

“And night,” she murmured, her voice taking on a softer quality. “But the others are liberated.”

There was a question lingering that the male didn’t dare ask, though his expression seemed to burn with it. He merely shrugged his shoulders as if it didn’t matter, glancing at Rhys again. “It won’t be as easy to liberate my home.”

“Respectfully, we killed a dragon,” Rhys snapped, his temper getting the better of him. Helion was walking around, wasn’t he? How bad could it be? He just wanted to get things over with so he could corner Feyre somewhere and demand she talk to him about what had happened earlier. 

We kissed! 

Feyre glanced away, eyes lingering on the floor beneath them. 

“Drinking the wine makes it worse,” Helion told her before gesturing for them both to follow. “The task itself is simple. Walk through the throne room and destroy the burning incense.” Rhys’ steps faltered. “That’s it?”

Surely there was more to it. Helion threw Rhys a smile that irritated him and nodded. “That’s it.”

“Why haven’t you done it, then?”

“Rhys,” Feyre hissed, clearly frustrated. Helion only chuckled, pulling open the double doors to his throne room. The smell was cloyingly sweet and strangely salty, choking Rhys’s lungs as he blinked away tears. Coughing, Rhys waved at the fog in front of his face. Was it poison, then? Something the fae could withstand but would kill himself and Feyre? 

He turned around to step back in the hall, but the doors had swung shut behind him. Helion was sauntering toward the large, golden throne situated upon an elevated dais. The floor itself was littered with pillows and bodies…all of which were naked. Were they dead?

No, he realized as hands began gliding up torsos. It was…it was…

“Is this an orgy?” Rhys whispered, eyes massive.

“We just…we walk across…the room,” Feyre reminded him, her eyes strangely unfocused. Rhys couldn’t stop staring at her. She’d put on clean clothes made of fine, Dawn Court material—the flowing white pants hugged her hips and the pale pink top shifted and rustled with each breath, revealing little bits of her tanned torso. The little wisps of hair framed her beautiful face and when she looked up at him, Rhys was struck by just how much smaller than him she was.

How they might fit together. 

“Feyre,” he murmured, walking toward her. They had a moment. It was strange how easy it was to forget what was happening in that cavernous room. The sunlight pouring through open windows illuminated her form, turning the dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose into a glowing constellation of stars. 

Her lips parted, but no words escaped.

“You kissed me,” he reminded her, reaching for her face. Her skin was soft beneath his palm, and he could resist running his thumb over her plush lips. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Neither can I,” she admitted, sliding her fingers over his wrist to hold his hand in place. “But Rhys—”

“Let me just…” he lowered his face, waiting for the resistance to come. Feyre only tilted her chin toward him, her grip tightening. 

“Just one,” she whispered. 

“Just one,” he swore. There would be others when they finished their embarrassingly simple task. He’d kiss her for luck, they’d destroy the incense, and then he’d ask for a private room and see what he could get away with. 

It was better than the first one. Perhaps because it lacked urgency, or simply because he knew she was seeing him. Really seeing him, touching him, offering herself to him. Rhys couldn’t help the groan that escaped him, teeth scraping her bottom lip. Feyre pressed closer, hand leaving his wrist to grip his shoulders. He was barely conscious of himself, especially when she sighed against his lips, nails digging through the fabric of his shirt.

Rhys hadn’t realized he’d hauled her up into the air until her legs wrapped around his waist, causing her body to rub against his erection. Fuck. In the list of things he hadn’t noticed, his rapidly hardening cock was one of them. The other was the room they were in slowly coming to life. The once lethargic bodies began to rouse themselves, touching and tasting without concern for who might be watching.

Rhys could relate to that. He was only peripherally aware of his surroundings, especially when Feyre’s tongue slid into his mouth. Mother above, but Rhys lost all sense of self at that moment. She tasted better than he’d dreamt, hazy and sweet in a dizzying concoction. Rhys needed…he needed more. He was desperate, quenching his thirst for the first time in his life. 

She tugged at his hair, pulling his head back so she could all but devour him. Rhy’s knees shook, though he remained standing only through the grace of the gods above them.

“Walk, Rhys,” she pleaded, her voice breathless with arousal. That’s what she said. What he heard her say, however, was a different matter entirely. 

Fuck me until I forget my name, Rhys. 

He took a step, stopping when her thighs clenched around his middle. How was he supposed to do anything? All he could think about was the sweet taste of pear and lilac invading his senses and how her breasts kept rubbing against his chest. 

“Not like this,” he whispered, well aware that he’d take her however she offered herself. Even here, in this place, surrounded by strangers that both watched and touched and tasted within inches of themselves. 

“Stop talking,” Feyre replied, teeth grazing his bottom lip. Who was he to argue with her? After everything they’d been through and everything they’d seen, didn’t they deserve a chance to relax? To enjoy themselves after what felt like months of non-stop fighting and walking and faerie politics. He wasn’t convinced they’d survive, and worse still, was his fear that when it was over, she’d want nothing to do with him again.

He’d see her in the village, pass by without any recognition in her eyes. She’d find some other man, one who suited her better, and Rhys would spend the rest of his life like his father—mourning a woman he’d lost and punishing everyone around him for his misery. 

His arm was wrapped around her waist, free hand gripping her hair tight enough he could feel the tension on her scalp. She couldn’t leave him. He simply wouldn’t allow it. 

Their mouths collided in a symphony of pent-up need. Rhys groaned at the taste of her, sweet and heady just the way he remembered. Feyre was voracious, untethered from whatever restraint typically bound her. Raking her nails through his hair, Feyre gripped him just as tightly as he held her, holding him in place with each rough, frantic kiss. 

They weren’t the only ones, though they were rapidly becoming one of the few left with their clothes on. Rhys was vaguely aware of what was happening around him, just as he was aware that he was still dressed even when he didn’t want to be.

Feyre, either, it seemed, given that she reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head without a second thought. Rhys stared, momentarily blinded by her undergarments which she quickly removed as well. Feyre was there, in his arms, without a shirt. Rhys didn’t know how to act—sure, he’d seen other women without their clothes on.

He’d never seen this woman without a shirt, though. And right then, he may as well have never seen a pair of breasts in his life. They were perfect, deserving of poetry sonnets, of portraits hung in the palaces of kings, of the sort of worship he would never master. That didn’t stop him from walking six steps to the left toward an elevated platform where the High Lords throne sat. Helion was otherwise occupied by two males and a female perched rather neatly atop his face. 

Rhys was jealous of the scene—he wanted Feyre on his face, too. He’d take whatever he could get, and right then what he’d managed was setting her atop the purple cushioned seat so he could fall to his knees before her as nothing more than her eager supplicant. 

“What are you doing?” she whispered, chest flushed as it rose and fell rapidly. Feyre’s eyes, usually a pretty, starlit blue, were so dark they seemed black to him. 

“What I should have done the day I met you,” he replied, well aware he had no authority to make her a princess anywhere but in his own life. Maybe that was enough? Worshiping only at her altar,  restructuring his worldview so she was the most central star illuminating his otherwise dreary world.

It was a simple thing to unlace her boots and toss them behind him. Running his hands up her thighs, Rhys swore he felt heat emanating from just between. Maybe it was wishful thinking–he wouldn’t know until he got his hands and face between them. He hated those well-made pants, hated the way she knotted the laces at the waistband and how clumsy his large fingers felt trying to undo the knot. Feyre merely watched, tugging at her braided hair as if she were nervous. 

He managed to undo the laces, relieved when she lifted her hips to help him shimmy her out of them. There she was, wholly naked, perched atop that throne with flushed cheeks and bitten lips. He didn’t know what to do, suddenly, his mind clouded by desire and indecision. What if she didn’t like whatever he did? What if she woke in the morning and changed her mind?

What if you overthink this and never get another change?

Rhys leaned up on his aching knees, ignoring his own discomfort to kiss her again.

And again.

And again. 

He forgot he was wedged between her legs, so caught up in the taste of her mouth and how good her tongue felt stroking his own. He needed nothing more, he thought. Rhys’ mind couldn’t stay focused on his long term goals. Kissing her felt good and that was all that mattered. He had time, besides. They didn’t need to go anywhere else. There was no rush to the act, no great hurry. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he felt that wasn’t quite true. 

He’d worry about it later. How often was the woman of his dreams splayed out naked before him? Rhys pulled away, breathless and desperate. Ignoring his aching cock rubbing against his own trousers, which suddenly felt uncomfortably tight. His indecision left him the moment his fingers grazed her exposed navel, tracing a few errant freckles dotted along her ribcage. 

His hands found her breasts, teasing the peaked nipple with the rough padding of his thumbs. Feyre arched her neck upward, eyes fluttering shut. She liked that. Rhys felt the way a dog must when praised by its master—all he wanted was to please her. It felt instinctual, like his purpose and reasoning for being. Rhys dared to lower his mouth, taking that same nipple into his mouth. Feyre cried out softly, a mere whisper of pleasure that ignited an inferno within him. He forgot himself, trying to elicit that sound again. While his tongue worked, making promises he fully intended to keep, his fingers began to push apart her legs. 

It was curiosity, truly, that made him want to touch her. He wanted to know if she was half as aroused as he was—if she felt the same way. Feyre was so guarded, so careful with her emotions and Rhys never quite knew where he stood with her. Her body wouldn’t lie, though—if she was aroused, he’d know.

Gliding his fingers through her cunt, he found a mess. He could have wept at how wet she was, how easily he slid right into her. Rhys wanted to abandon all logic, replace his fingers, and fuck her until the two of them passed out in a heap of sweaty limbs. 

Maybe just a taste, he reasoned to himself. That was all he needed. It was a pretty lie bouncing around his skull, and the realization he’d lied to himself, however trivial, pulled him back to reality for just a moment.

The throne room had devolved into a mass of writhing bodies performing every sexual act imaginable. Twisting to look behind him, Rhys’ mouth fell open at the sight of all those entangled limbs. Never in his life had he seen anything like what was happening before him, the pure bacchanalian display momentarily stunning him.

He was supposed to be ending this—he remembered, now. The incense was still burning, still close enough that he could simply rise back to his feet and extinguish it. It would be so easy, too—but Rhys lacked the willpower. His mistake was looking back at Feyre, legs draped over each arm of the throne, displaying the prettiest cunt he’d ever seen.

Was he supposed to tell her no? Rhys would rather be trapped by the curse forever than have her think he was rejecting her. It wasn’t going anywhere, he repeated to himself as he trailed his tongue down the flat plain of her stomach. He’d already forgotten what it was—but he trusted he’d remember later—when it mattered. 

All that mattered to him then was the woman in front of him. Something was happening to him—something that had never happened before. Warmth flooded down to his very marrow, his chest tight as he struggled to draw breath. He glanced up at Feyre and her midnight dark eyes and wondered if she knew what this feeling was.

He could guess, but if he sat back to untangle it, he’d ruin everything. She didn’t want to hear it—Rhys knew her well enough to know the unspoken truth between them, that there was only so much Feyre could handle at any given time. There, vulnerable and naked, eyes pleading with him to finish what they’d begun, Rhys didn’t dare say a word.

He merely pressed a kiss to her inner thigh, the realization clanging like a bell in his head.

I’m in love with you.

Two courts, he reminded himself, kissing the other leg while holding her gaze. They’d figure out how to undo the curse in Day, and move on to Night, and then…and then they’d be free. Forever changed by what they’d seen and lived through, bonded and connected just as surely as any chain between them, only this one seemed to be wrapped around his heart rather than his wrist. He needed her, and he didn’t believe she didn’t need him, even if she thought she could rely only on herself.

She’d gone to the ends of the earth for her sisters, had risked life and liberty to see them unshackled from whatever spell housed them. Rhys simply meant to be that for her. He’d make the same journey to save her, would give up everything for her if she asked. Already, on his knees before her, his queen, his goddess, his northernmost star, Rhys would have done anything she asked of him.

And more.

He was close to reciting poetry, which seemed a shame given Rhys didn’t know any poetry. He’d studied it, once, but he’d been too busy screwing around with his friends and his sword to commit any of it to memory. What a waste, he thought, gaze slipping to the wet, pink cunt before him. Feyre’s body deserved at least a ballad at the very least. A sonnet or two about her perfect form. Surely someone must have.

He’d kill them.

Feyre raked her fingers through his hair, pushing at his face gently, though he wished she’d be rough. Tell him what to do—that was her way, after all. It seemed uncharacteristic of her to leave the decision in his hands when Rhys had come to enjoy being bossed around by a woman not half his weight or height. Rhys smothered a smile and finished what Feyre had started.

It was magic moving them, and magic that made her taste like some sort of elixir that granted immortality. Rhys couldn’t stifle the moan that rose up threw his throat and seemed to echo louder than the music around them. Fuck. Was it just anticipation, or something else? He didn’t know—didn’t care. His tongue found her again, licking slowly up the length of her and back down. Feyre’s hair was falling from his clasp, longer than he remembered as the long, golden brown strands framed her flushed face. She seemed otherworldly to him, shimmering with the same need that he felt bubbling in his blood.

Rhys forgot how his knees were aching, the cold marble seeping through his trousers to lodge itself against his spine. For all he knew, they were floating in some ethereal plane, the only two people left in the world. This was what he’d been born to do, and it would take the very gods themselves to pull him off her.

Or Feyre herself.

She surged forward, pushing him back without any care or concern for his comfort. Rhys grinned, landing flat on his back not far from a writhing group of women moaning and touching in a display that ought to have fascinated him. Feyre, however, climbed atop him, straddling his waist with a sly smile on his face.

“You look tired,” she all but purred, pulling at his shirt. He was quick to help her, tossing it somewhere in the room before both her fingers and his went scrambling for the clasps on his trousers. It was erotic to watch her undo them, even as he gracelessly kicked himself out of his boots. She peered down at him, running her hand over his stomach with that same smile that made him feel out of his mind with lust.

“I wasn’t done,” he complained, afraid she was going to try and repay the favor. “I need you to come on my tongue.”

Feyre blinked, digesting his words before color stole over her chest and up her neck. Was this what embarrassed her? Absurd. Rhys reached for her before she could squirm away and with relatively little effort, positioned her over his face. Finally, a warrior's death, he thought to himself. With both arms wrapped around her to keep her from pulling away, Rhys went back to the feasting from before. She was dripping wet, making a mess of his face, and Rhys had never been happier.

He’d just assumed she’d ride his face—that was what he wanted, anyway. Her hips rolled over him as she sighed breathlessly just before she shifted. Rhys held tightener before his back arched off the cool, marble floor, just in time to realize Feyre was only readjusting so she could take his cock in her mouth.

Fuck.

 The memory of his task slipped back to the forefront of his mind at the same time her soft tongue slid down the length of him. Who cared anymore? Rhys didn’t hate the fae like he once had, but right then, he didn’t care if they suffered under the same subjugation he’d promised to unravel. All he cared about was Feyre spread out over his face while she sucked him. Nothing else was important—nothing else mattered. 

Rhys had time, for once, to do everything he wanted. It was tempting to lap at her frantically, to draw her upward just to prove he could, to know what she sounded like when she came. He had to force himself to slow down, to temper his excitement with the reminder that he had time. They had nowhere to be and nothing important to do. 

That lasted for all of ten seconds. Feyre gagged as she tried to take more than half of him, the sound shooting straight to his balls. Forced to clench his cheeks to keep from coming prematurely, and desperate from excitement, Rhys redoubled his efforts over her cunt, tongue swirling and teasing her clit until Feyre’s rhythm faltered. Bolstered by his success and drunk off the knowledge she wanted him, Rhys continued licking and sucking at her clit until Feyre screamed. Her legs clamped around his head, keeping him in place while preventing him from taking a full breath of air. Rhys simply rode it out while taking her through her orgasm without stopping.

Feyre fell forward, cheek pressed to his thigh. “It’s not enough,” she moaned, echoing his own thoughts. Scrambling off him, Feyre tugged at his arm to pull him to his feet. He did as she demanded, wishing for some of his usual eloquence. He wanted to tell her he felt the same way, that his blood was thudding painfully in his chest.

“It’s magic,” she whispered, more to herself than to him. Rhys’s heart sank, his mind once again returning to the task at hand. She was looking at him, but he turned to look at the bowl of incense. He didn’t want to destroy it—was it so bad to be trapped here like this? Together? 

It wasn’t real. Rhys found his pants laying in a heap and grabbed them as she tried to reach for his arm and pull him back. 

It’s magic, it’s magic, it’s magic.

Not like this.

It was agony to leave here standing there, to feel her eyes burning against his back. Worse to pull those trousers over his raging erection while his blood thrummed, beating in time with her own heart. Rhys knew how he felt—the spell merely enhanced what was already there. Did she feel it? Or was she merely trapped? The thought ate at him, ravaging him until his heart felt like a ruined wasteland. 

It was easy to get to the bowl of incense, and easier still to raise it over his head before throwing it to the ground. The little flame extinguished as the pottery shattered irrevocably, spilling sweetly scented oil all over his bare feet. The moaning and sounds of copulating slowed to halt as the music came to a grinding halt.

Rhys turned to find those once writhing masses slowly untangling themselves, blinking as though waking from a dream. Feyre was scrambling for something—his shirt, he realized, which engulfed her in the stained white fabric. She wasn’t looking at him, though her cheeks still bore the tell-tale flush.

No, Feyre was looking at a very naked Helion. “Lucien,” she said, the only person who spoke at that moment.

“Go,” Helion ordered and just like that, Feyre raced out of the room, leaving Rhys standing there feeling like a fool. She had his shirt, so Rhys couldn’t fully dress though it was better than Helion who didn’t seem to care at all. Rhys supposed if he looked as good as Helion did without clothes on, he’d strut around, too. 

“Fifty years,” Helion said as Rhys joined him, Feyre’s clothes and their shoes all heaped in his arms. “I’ll need about that long to recover.”

“At least it wasn’t a dragon,” Rhys heard himself saying, barely aware of the conversation at all. He could still taste Feyre in his throat, could still feel the weight of her on his body. He would have liked those fifty years—nobility was for those with a moral sense of righteousness.

He simply didn’t want her to hate him. 

Helion put a hand on Rhys’ bare shoulder, golden eyes filled with nothing but a mixture of relief and sadness. “I owe you everything. Tell me how I can repay you.”

“A room?” Rhys asked, at a loss for what this man could give him. All he wanted had left the room, another man’s name on her lips. For all he knew, Feyre loved that man, had been thinking only of him while Rhys touched her. Jealousy was an ugly emotion and as Helion walked him through the warm, sprawling palace, all Rhys could think about was Lucien.

Who was he? Why did she care? He remembered Cassian mentioning Lucien, the memory returning in a haze. Lucien was a faerie prince. How did he compete with that? Everyone they’d met had been impossibly beautiful and powerful, and for all he knew, Feyre had been silently trying to free the prince alongside her sisters. 

Feyre was nowhere to be found. Helion promised to tell Feyre where he was when he saw her next, his face unreadable as he took one last look at Rhys before closing the door. Rhys wanted to smash the room to pieces. Petulantly, he wanted to leave Feyre to finish the task on her own. The thought of abandoning her made his chest ache and water prick at the corners of his eyes.

So she loved another man. That didn’t mean he didn’t still love her. He was simply disappointed that she might not want him back—that despite what he’d told himself in that throne room, he had been hoping she returned his feelings.

Rhys took time to bathe, pleased to find clothes laid out on the bed for him. He wasn’t alone, though Cassian was hardly the company he wanted right then. Sprawled out on his bed casually, his leathered armor swapped out for the same loose pants and shirt that Rhys had been given, Cassian seemed as irreverent as usual.

“Want to get a drink?”

“Make it a double,” Rhys said, returning the smile. 

“I know just the place. This whole palace reeks,” Cassian said, wrinkling his nose. It was easy to like Cassian, perhaps because he seemed so very human—minus the wings on his back. His ears were rounded, his eyes a very normal hazel, and his face looked as if it belonged to a regular man rather than an immortal creature capable of ripping him apart with their bare hands. He didn’t doubt Cassian could if he wanted to. The glowing siphons on his person certainly suggested he commanded some sort of magic—Feyre had explained it all to him once, but Rhys didn’t remember.

He didn’t want to think about Feyre at the moment.

Cassian let Rhys dress, pointedly turning his back without leaving the room. “Where’s Fey?” he asked casually.

“With Lucien,” Rhys spat, his hatred irrational.

Cassian chuckled. “I’d say we should rescue her, but maybe she deserves whatever hell he’s currently giving her.”

Rhys bristled. “Why would he give her anything but his gratitude? She just rescued him—”

“You don’t know Lucien, but he can be…difficult…at times,” Cassian replied, running a hand through his shoulder length hair. 

“How do they know each other?”

“I’ll let Feyre tell that story if she wants. Lucien hates humans, and well…Feyre doesn’t, obviously. So their friendship has always been interesting.”

Friendship. “Does she see him often?”

“Too often, I think, given he’s mated to her sister. I’m sure he’s waging war on Elain’s behalf, pissed they’ve been separated for so long.”

The knot that had settled in his stomach seemed to untangle. “Mated?”

“Married,” Cassian amended, tucking his wings tight against his back. “It's a similar principle.”

“Marriage implies choice,” Rhys heard himself saying, a frown stretched over his lips. “What if your mate wants to leave you?”

True anger seemed to shine on Cassian’s face before he banished it with a shake of his head. “You don’t understand. It’s…she’s half my soul. I could no sooner leave her than I could leave my own body.”

“Surely not all matches are happy.” It didn’t seem possible that fate could select people who got along flawlessly and created nothing but incandescently, happy pairs.

“They’re not,” Cassian agreed. “There are plenty of unhappy pairs—you have a choice to accept the bond. Lucien and Elain had a hard time of it—”

“Because he hates humans?” Rhys asked, piecing Feyre’s life together 

Cassian chuckled. “Among other things. Lucien can be a real, arrogant bastard.”

“Feyre doesn’t have a mate?” Rhys asked suddenly, uninterested in the Day Court faerie prince and his love life. He recalled slaying Tamlin and the relationship that had existed between them. Had she dragged him into this to kill a mate she didn’t want?

“I’m sure she does,” Cassian replied as he stared studiously ahead. “Everyone does—even humans.”

Cassian didn’t need to explain to Rhys that if he had a mate, he wasn’t going to feel it the way the fae could. Feyre, too, would never know if he was hers. Would she always wonder given her sister's circumstances? Would it be enough?

Could he be enough? Feyre didn’t seem to hold any love for the culture or people, even if somehow she knew all of them by name. Maybe, once it was all done and she was certain of her sister's safety, she’d want a little peace. He could give her that. Hells, if she wanted he’d live in this land though preferably far from the sprawling palaces of the High Lords. 

Rhys had two drinks with Cassian down in the emptied city—where was everyone? The winged male seemed in high spirits, grinning and laughing as he told story after story about battles Rhys wished he could have seen. He was jealous of Cassian’s long life and the things he’d seen, of the things he’d do before it was all over.

He had to half carry Cassian back to the palace, leaving him in a patch of grass beneath an olive tree. “This is perfect,” Cassian had mumbled, snoring before Rhys had taken more than three steps. Maybe he should have let himself get obliterated, too, but Rhys was hoping to talk to Feyre. He thought he might die if she decided she wanted to pretend nothing had happened between them. 

He just needed to tell her how he felt, he decided. Fumbling for a light switch in the room he’d been given, Rhys decided he’d just tell her he was in love with her. He’d— “Feyre?”

He was drunker than he thought, because surely that wasn’t his Feyre, kneeling on the end of his bed in a nightdress so sheer, she may as well be wearing nothing at all. Her hair was unbound, the ends curling ever so slightly as they hung over her shoulders

Rhys turned to look over his shoulder, back down the dark hall he’d come from. Rubbing his eyes, he turned back to his room, certain he’d be alone.

She was still there, cheeks red, lips pink and swollen. Rhys closed the door softly, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, trying to project calm when his insides were turning over. 

“Can you?” she replied, her sultry tone settling at the base of his cock. He hadn’t forgotten that she’d had her mouth on it, though right then his mouth began to replay the way her tongue had felt, how her lips had wrapped themselves around him. His stomach tightened from excitement. Please. 

He shrugged. “Not really.”

Feyre uncurled her legs from beneath her body, bare toes touching the floor as she straightened herself. The little nightdress she wore was a joke—he could have shredded the delicate cloth with his teeth if he so chose to. And gods, did Rhys want to rip it ribbons with his teeth. Feyre was in charge, though, so he remained as still as he could manage while she sauntered forward. His eyes fell to the swing of her hips, visible beneath the cloth. The neckline scooped low enough that he could see the swell of her breasts while the hem just shimmed the uppermost part of her thighs. 

He was dreaming. This wasn’t real. It was a fantasy.

“Neither can I,” she told him, pulling him closer by the laces on his trousers. Rhys had to remind himself to breathe. 

“What are you doing?” he whispered, afraid he might ruin everything with that question. “Are you well?”

“I’m tired of pretending I don’t feel it, too,” she said, deftly pulling the strings until they were unknotted. “That I don’t want you.”

That may have been the most erotic thing that had happened to him all day. Rhys froze as she pushed his pants to his ankles, revealing his already rigid cock. “I didn��t get to finish,” she told him, sliding to her knees before him. Her fingertips skimmed over his thighs, drawing a shiver up his spine. 

“Feyre,” he whispered, unsure what he planned to say. She ignored him, licking his shaft from root to tip while Rhys had to employ every ounce of his will to keep from falling to the ground in a boneless heap. His mind barely worked, though he had enough thought to gather up her hair and pull it off her face. 

Feyre took him into his mouth, eyes pinned to his face. All the air available to him punched out of his lungs, leaving him gaping like a fish. He had to remind himself to take a breath, that passing out in front of her was unlikely to make her want to touch him again. 

“You don’t—” The next slide of her mouth silenced him. She didn’t have to do this, but why was he trying to stop her? He wanted this so badly it made his teeth ache. Rhys wasn’t above begging, either. If she stopped, he thought he might die. He’d take her however he could get, though he was hoping he might manage to take a little more from her.

That he could give her something, too. Rhys wanted to take her out of her clothes, lay her out, and show her what he felt. He didn’t move, drinking her in as he fisted the soft strands of her hair between his trembling fingers. Right then, Rhys would have given anything for faerie powers—if only to tell her, mind to mind, all the things he wanted to do to her.

He groaned instead, spreading his legs wider as she worked him slowly. It was exquisite—better than anything he’d ever felt in his life. If he died right then, he could have died satisfied with his life. He couldn’t pretend Feyre on her knees before him didn’t please him immensely, especially after everything they’d shared together. 

He wondered what she’d make of this if he could go back to when they met and smugly inform her that one day, she’d willingly take his cock in her mouth. Likely nothing pleasant—something that had an arrow pointed directly at his cock. He would have deserved it, too.

Release built along his spine, his arousal and desperation pushing him toward the edge far quicker than he wanted. He needed to draw things out—he needed to be inside her. Feyre moaned around his cock, convincing him she needed the same thing. Rhys reached for her and Ferye sprang up with far more athleticism than Rhys thought he possessed—his knees would never allowed for him to come up so quickly. 

Their mouths collided, frenzied and hungry and oh, it felt good to know she felt the way he did. Rhys was unspooled and undone, desperate and dizzy as he tried to both get that stupid night dress over her head and walk toward the bed. 

He’d once considered himself graceful, though not anymore. They collapsed in a heap of elbows and half-discarded clothes, unwilling to stop what they were doing for even a moment, and thank the gods for that. She was undressing him with clumsy fingers, though somehow managed to get him out of his shirt before he gave up and did what he’d wanted from the start—Rhys ripped the night dress from neck to hem in one solid, fluid move.

Gripping his waist with her thighs, Feyre flipped him to his back, fingernails digging in his bare chest. She was naked again, and oh, Rhys wished he could draw. He wanted to keep an image of her straddling him in his pocket, folded up for his eyes only. Maybe he’d ask when she wasn’t shimming down his body so she could rub her slick cunt against his throbbing cock.

“Fuck,” he whispered, the word pushed from his gut with the force of a punch. “Feyre, please.”

“Please, what?” she practically purred in response. Gods above and the hells below, she would be the cause of his early demise. 

She just barely had the upper hand. Reaching for her waist, Rhys flipped her to her back so her hair became a halo around her beautiful face. “Please, Feyre, darling,” he breathed, pressing his mouth to the hollow of her neck, “make a mess of my cock.”

She exhaled, her eyes rolling upward which was all the permission Rhys needed. He didn’t wait, sliding himself wholly into her body while she was still catching her breath. Her eyes flew open, lips parting and in a moment of panic, Rhys kissed her. He’d just assumed he wasn’t her first, given how he’d found her and her general lack of concern regarding her nudity.

“Did I—”

“Big,” she managed, tightening herself around him. Pure, masculine pride warmed his gut, propelling him forward for that first, perfect thrust. 

“Tell me you want this. That you want me,” he whispered, burying his face in her neck.

“I want you,” she replied, pulling at his hair so he had to face her. “I want this.”

Gods, he could have come from those words alone. Rhys had to squeeze his ass tight to keep himself from doing so, overwhelmed by the rush of emotion. He wanted to tell her everything—the things and people he loved tended to be taken from him. Or they left him, physically or emotionally. It was easier to be guarded, to place walls around his heart and play the irreverent rake. 

There was risk to vulnerability. To admit to Feyre that he both wanted and needed her. It was on the tip of his tongue, telling her that he loved her, too. Rhys wanted to—he was afraid. So afraid she didn’t feel the same, that this was some fleeting amusement, a passing fancy. Better to just take what he could get for now. If that was all she ever gave him, that was better than nothing at all. Far more preferable than a life without knowing her. A life where they turned back to strangers.

“Come back to me,” Feyre whispered, pulling him from his thoughts. The blue of her eyes centered him, settling his fears. They were here, now, and that was enough. Pumping his hips, Rhys returned to kissing her, albeit messily given he was also trying to find her clit with his clumsy fingers. 

He was hanging by a thread, just barely keeping himself together. Feyre moaned when he found what he was looking for, digging her nails into his shoulder while meeting him thrust for thrust. He could feel her own need, how she convulsed around him as her own kissing became slower, less focused.

“That’s it,” he whispered, picking up the pace. He was going to finish and she wouldn’t and what then? He simply no longer had control of his body—something deep in his gut was unspooling like thread, winding its way through him as it demanded more, more, more. He couldn’t stop himself even if he’d wanted to.

There was no skill to Feyre coming mere moments before he had—only luck. He wasn’t discounting it, grateful all the same as Rhys released himself with a guttural whimper that seemed to ignite the room in blinding starlight. There was none—just the same darkness, the same bed, the same ceiling and floor.

Heart pounding, Rhys was certain things must have changed. He felt changed, and so the rest of the world must be, too. Feyre reached for him, kissing one cheek, and then the other, before her fingers skimmed over his jaw.

“You were perfect,” he told her, catching the way her eyes widened. She blinked, eyes strangely glassy. 

“You’ve always been perfect,” he added, just because he thought maybe she needed to hear someone tell her that. I love you! His mind screamed, though his lips refused to give them voice.

“So are you, Rhys,” she replied, pulling him back toward her. He let her push him to his back, making a mess of his abdomen as she slung her leg over his hips. “And I’m not done with you. Not yet.”

Not ever, he hoped.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

@hammerhead96 I AM BITING THIS! I am so sorry it took 45 years <3

Anselm Vogelweide x gn!Reader • Rating: PG pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? • ask-travaganza masterlist •

Summary: You paint Anselm's portrait.

Warnings: Fluff, Anselm has siblings here, I'm just making stuff up, little bit of jealous!Anselm, kissing, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 2311

“Stop moving.” You glare politely at Anselm over the canvas.  

He smiles sweetly at you from his position on the chair in the middle of the room. The large floor length curtains are drawn, letting in the late morning sunshine. He’s sat at a slight three quarter angle, his scared side facing you. 

It had been his sister that had commissioned you, Adela Vogelweide, a gift for his birthday. The fact that she’d chosen you had surprised you. You knew she had enough personal wealth to hire practically anyone in the world for whatever exorbitant amount they wanted and still consider it small change. 

Adela had seen some of your pieces at a local gallery showing, the curator an old friend of yours, where she had quite loudly enquired about the price of your largest landscape. Paid three times the asking amount, and then said it was still undervalued. 

She had called you up personally after convincing your friend to let her use their phone. The first words she’d spoken to you when you picked up were, “Why are you underselling yourself?” 

Adela was brazen and kind, with a quick temper she had never directed at you. She dyed her hair black, something she delighted in telling you, except for two streaks that framed her face, those she kept in her natural grey. She had also delighted herself in telling you all about her older brother Anselm, and what a nuisance he was, a rapscallion, but a loveable one. And wouldn’t you be a dear and paint his portrait? 

This was your fourth sitting.

“You said I could move a little, my dear?” He gives you a cheeky grin. 

You poke your head around the canvas again, purposefully benign a little more dramatic than you truly need to be, because you know it amuses him. 

“Emphasis on a little.” 

His smile widens. “Am I moving too much?” He feigns innocence badly. 

You give him a look. “Yes. Stop fidgeting.” 

“My leg.” He pouts, and rubs his thigh. 

“Anselm.” 

“Yes, my dear?” 

“That leg is not the one with your brace on.” 

He chuckles and then quickly puts on a mock serious expression. “Can’t my other leg hurt? My, my, this is most uncaring of you, and here I thought you such a sweet person.” 

“Well, you thought wrong then, didn’t you?” You carry on painting, adding a little shading. Most of the sittings so far were just to get a feel for him as a subject. You’d completed several rough sketches and paintings, and taken umteenth reference photos. 

“I don’t think so, my dear, I’m a very good judge of character.” 

“Would you say that runs in the family?” You ask nonchalantly. 

“How so?” 

“Is Adela a good judge of character?” 

He pauses for a moment and then nods, “She is.” 

“She warned me about you.” You say offhandedly and Anselm cackles with glee.

“Did she?” 

“She did.” 

“How marvellous. Did she tell you I’m a wretched and depraved lust filled bloodthirsty tyrant?” 

You pause, “No.”

“What did she say?” He strokes his beard slightly.

“That you were cheeky.” 

He tuts. “Now, that is a gross misrepresentation, I will have to have words with her.” 

“Don’t get me in trouble.” You giggle. 

“Now, now, my dear. She’ll most likely tell me off for some reason, probably for my playful, but oh so charming treatment of you, wouldn’t you say?” 

You give him another look and he laughs. 

“You disagree?” 

“Stop fishing for compliments.”

“Ah, but I must. You haven’t said one kind thing to me all morning.” He folds his arms, pretending to huff. 

“First, that is untrue, second, stop moving.” 

He grins, “My apologies,” and puts his arms back down. “My dear Adela does love to scold me, despite being the younger sibling. You would think she was twelve years my senior, not junior… It is the different father I think.” He smiles fondly. 

“You have different fathers?” 

He nods, “You are enquiring about the surname yes?” 

You nod as well. 

“Well, my mother is Magdalena Vogelwiede, the only child of my grandfather who lived past infancy. She kept the family name and refused to change it when she married, not that any of her husbands would have dared to argue with her, besides all of them coveted the prestige of being part of the Vogelwiede family. All of her children were given her last name.”

“Do you have other siblings?” You ask, still holding your paintbrush but you have given up most pretences of actually working. The way he talked was almost hypnotic. Soothing. You could happily listen for hours. 

“I do, I had an older brother, Wilhelm, who died very young. When my father died, my mother remarried and had Adela and Helena. She divorced my step-father when Helena was two, shame, as I was quite fond of him. She didn’t marry the father of my youngest sister, Libeste. But that was a very good thing, he was a terrible bore.”

You smile, delighting in the fondness in his expression. “Is she still with us?” 

He nods, “She is, going very strong. She lives in Italy with her suitor, a toy boy.”

“Toy boy?” You snort. 

“He’s only sixty eight.” He chuckles. 

“Scandalous.” You grin. 

“I like him very much, his name is Alvin, like the chipmunks. Which is what he said to me the first time I met him, a very sweet man, utterly besotted with my mother, the poor fool.”

“The poor fool?”

“She bullies him so,” Anselm sighs fondly, “But he does love it. So I think they are meant to be with each other.” 

You barely manage another five minutes of painting before Anselm has to take an emergency meeting. He apologises profusely and kisses your hand when you leave. You do your best to hide your giddiness when his lips touch your skin.

The following Thursday you’re back at his house, mansion, just about to get out of your car when your phone rings. Adela. 

You press accept. “Hello, Adela.” 

“My darling, how are you? Are you well?” Her voice practically purrs on the other end of the phone.

“I’m good, you?” 

“Fine, fine, listen, I am having a small get together tomorrow night, I will send a car for you. Yes?” 

“I,” You pause, ever so slightly taken aback. “Well…”

“You are free of course?” 

“Well, I was going to work on the portrait-”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, you have plenty of time, I understand art works can take years.”

“I don’t think it’ll take me years, I mean-”

“See? You are already ahead of schedule then my darling, 8pm the car will come. It’s a small thing, barely a hundred people, casual dress. And I mean it, wear jeans and a t-shirt if you want, or nothing at all.”

You open your mouth to speak and close it again as she continues.

“I simply must introduce you to my son. Anyway, see you then, ciao!” 

She hangs up before you can even say a word. 

You’re setting up in the ground floor study when Anselm comes in. His expression is stormy, you would almost say bleak if it wasn’t for the hard look in his eyes. 

He sits on the chair without his usual exuberance, muttering a quiet “Good morning.” 

You pause, still setting up your easel. Part of you isn’t sure if you know him well enough to ask about what’s bothering him, even though he’s been nothing but forthcoming and charming with you. You swallow down your anxiety.

“Are you okay?” 

“Hmm,” he nods and doesn’t look at you.”Perfectly well.” 

You bite your thumbnail nervously, but don’t ask again. You set up the rest of your equipment in silence. 

The quiet is odd. You realise you’re so used to hearing him talk, to being swept up in his tales that now the room seems hollow and barren without them. Cold and sterile. The grandfather clock in the corner ticks loudly, echoes sickeningly. 

Nothing seems to be going quite right, your colours are wrong, the shape irregular. 

You’ve been working for around twenty minutes when Anselm finally talks. 

“Has my sister invited you yet?” He’s a little gruff, a huff in his voice.

“I’m sorry?” You look up from your work.

“Invited you… to her gathering tomorrow?” 

“Oh, erm,” You stumble over your words, the hard look he gives you is practically alien, so unlike his usual smiles. “Yes, she called me just as I got here.” 

Anselm’s expression hardens. For a moment you don’t think he’s going to speak again. “She wants you to meet David, her eldest.” 

You pause, not sure if you should reply, but you do anyway. “Yeah, erm, she mentioned it briefly… not that I really got a word in.” You laugh weakly, maybe he was annoyed at how long it was taking you to start on the painting? “Honestly, I was planning on working on your portrait, but I didn’t really get a chance to refuse the invitation.” 

He hums again, sighing and slumps down a little in his chair. “He got divorced last year, you know?” 

It takes you a full minute to realise he’s talking about David. 

“Clean break, his ex-wife was very reasonable. No children.” He sighs again, “A perfectly eligible bachelor.” He runs his hand through his hair, pushing his curls in a completely different direction. 

“Anselm,” you tut, briefly forgetting the tense atmosphere, you walk around the easel and towards him, your hand outreached to fix his hair before you catch yourself. You stop, pausing right in front of him.

He looks up at you with soft eyes. “I apologise, my love. I did not mean to disrupt your work with my bad mood.” 

“It’s alright,” you smile slightly, “We all get annoyed.” 

“I’m sure you are rapturous in anger, all dragon fire and destruction.” 

You snort. “I am not.” 

He smiles and leans forward, pressing his head towards your hand. “I am sorry I disturbed my hair.” 

“It’s fine,” you lightly run your fingers through his curls, careful not to catch or pull as you move it back into its previous style. You motion for him to sit back so that you can position the last few rogue strands. You touch his hair for a little longer than absolutely necessary, swallowing as you press your fingers deeper. 

Anselm breathes in deeply, closing his eyes for a second and presses closer to your touch. 

“Is your nephew getting engaged or something, does Adela want me to paint a portrait of him too? Is that why I’m invited?” You ask innocently as you finally adjust his hair to your liking. You drop your hand to your side, a little disappointed that you no longer have a reason to touch him.

He opens his eyes slowly, staring up at you with a small frown. “My sweet, are you being serious, or pulling my leg? Because if it is the latter, I must say it is poor form considering my injury.” He motions a little dramatically to his brace.

“What?” You shrug a little, trying to work out what the hell he’s on about.

A small smile pulls at his lips when he realises you are being sincere. “My dear Adela wants to set you up with David, tomorrow is a formal introduction of sorts.” 

You pause, a little dumbfounded and Anselm chuckles. 

“My, the look on your face, you do not seem pleased.” He, however, is the happiest you have seen him all morning. 

“Here,” Anselm stands, “I’ll get my assistant to bring you a photo of David,” the tease in his voice is undeniable. “So that you may gaze about the face of your future beloved.” 

You finally find your voice. “Anselm.” You scold.

He grins wickedly, turning to face you fully. “I do love it when you use that tone with me, my sweet. Admonishing me does suit you.” He steps a fraction closer, raising his hand to lightly brush your cheek with the tips of his fingers. “I would happily die a thousand deaths to be under your thumb.” 

You swallow. “I don’t want you to die a thousand deaths… or be under my thumb.” You say softly, trying to say that you want him safe and alive and of his own strange but endearing free will.

But Anselm’s expression falls and he lowers his hand, mistaking your words for rejection. “I apologise again-”

Panic grips your chest and you blurt out the first thing that comes into your head. “But you can be under me if you want… as in…” Heat rolls over your face and you screw up your eyes. 

He laughs happily, stepping closer again so that you are chest to chest. He lightly traces your bottom lip with his thumb. “May I kiss you, my love?” 

With a giddy rush of energy, you lean forward and press your mouth to his in a soft, sweet kiss. Anselm moans happily, wrapping one arm around you. When you break the kiss he leans his forehead against yours. 

“Please forgive my foul mood earlier, I was… distressed.” 

“Why?” You tease, a sugar rush of happiness overtaking you. 

“Because I thought you were going to spend the rest of your days riding my nephew instead of me.” 

You snort, unable to stop yourself, and quickly cover your mouth with your hand. 

“Oh no, please, let me hear you laugh.” He gently takes your wrist and litters your cheeks with kisses, until you’re giggling uncontrollably. 

“Well, I’ll have to let Adela know there’s no need for me to go tomorrow.” 

Anselm tuts and raises an eyebrow, “I don’t think so, my love, I think it will be much more exciting to turn up on my arm and then proceed to make out messily on every available surface.” 

Thank you for reading!

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[accio-victuuri]

it’s been a while since i’ve shared my recent reads! so here’s what i have picked up in the past months. felt inspired cause i’m really enjoying the story i’m reading now, w/c i initially picked up as a manhwa but i’m impatient so i switched to the novel. it’s called the hunter is gonna lay low or the hunter wants to live quietly. it’s such a gem! cause it starts of pretty simple and funny then the author manages to put in the plot and well, it’s plotting. lol.

if you like systems/dungeons, cast of characters, time travel, mystery and the most delicious slow burn then this is for you. i hope this gets animated at some point cause it’s so good! 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼 this is the only novel on the list so it’s pretty special that the story led me to WANT to read the source.

i’m literally listing what i’ve read so yeah. and pretty much a v short reaction to it cause there is a lot (53). it’s a mix of ongoing and completed works at the time of writing and when i read it so i’ll mark that too.

1. Sweetie, Sweetie, Sweetie - this title is so misleading cause you would think it’s a modern story full of sweetness when it’s not. this deals with kingdoms/royalty, superpowers — and isekai.

2. How my Daddies Became mates (completed) - first foray into mangas because i most prefer manhwa/manhuas — i know, sacrilege. but yeah, it’s a cute story of two dad telling their kid how they met and fell in love. It’s so wholesome! a short read when you feel tired of all the toxic bl stories. 😂😂😂

3. Unintentional Love Story (completed) - pick this up! it’s so good! slice of life kind of vibe and falling in love in a small town.

4. Someone like You (completed) - this was something i started before and went back in now that it’s completed.

5. Isekai no Sata Wa shachiku shidai - i don’t really go for Mangas but this one pulled me in! I love myself some isekai plot. it’s just sad that no one has updated the translation for so long so that may put some people off in picking this up.

6. Bend over Backwards (completed) - corporate slave x international model. if you like this kind of dynamic then go ahead. Only 40 chapters plus a bunch of side stories so this kind of thing is a good choice.

7. Dinner with a Vampire - pretty obvs with the title.

8. Mister Wonderful teases me

9. Romance but not Romantic - omegaverse! the kind where the omega needs the alpha but initially hated him.

10. Be, Be. - omegaverse with modern royalty!

11. Smoky Nectar 1 - a short read that continues to a part 2 and it’s good ✌🏼

12. Smoky Nectar 2

13. Reincarnated to Devil King Evelogia’s World - this is so uniquely unhinged that it became. endearing. No. I swear. I haven’t read anything like it. I love it tho. Maybe some people will find it over the top but it’s now one of my personal faves.

there’s an animated version of it if you wanna start with that just to see how cute they are lol.

14. Bullying the Dog - an MC who didn’t get much love then he meets the ML who shows him what it’s like. it’s so somft.

15. Bittersweet Martini (completed) - i’m gonna cheat here and copy/paste the first comment on this story cause i think it perfectly describes the story: “If you're looking for a casual pleasure read with a green flag story with heavy flirting, which leads to a lot of blushing but also deals with a more serious topic towards the middle, without leaning too much into the drama, then look no further.”

16. Over the Paradise - guideverse with zombies!

17. Hero vs Villain - what happens when the supposed hero and villain become friends and fall in love? this was so nice!

18. Night of London - vampire and werewolf pairing! come on! Let’s gooooo! 🙌🏼

19. Kill my love - omegaverse and assassins!

20. Turning - Another work that i would most likely pick up the novel version cause it’s that good! Regression theme! ❣️plus the setting is they are in a kingdom where people have powers.

21. The Moon is coming to me - I have already talked bout this before and it’s one of my absolute faves! I didn’t know the Manhua was released! So i was so happy to enjoy it in that form. The translation for this is very close to the end so pick it up!

22. Cozy Obsession - transmigration where the MC knows how the story goes so he is trying his best to change the ending.

23. Summertime (completed) - one of my favorites! love it when friends become lovers and some may say the ML here is manipulative but i wanna say in a good way. lol. anyway, it’s classic, atleast from the MC’s side that you’ve known this person some time and that summertime everything has changed.

24. My way with you (completed) - gonna cheat again with this one by pasting here what someone commented: “LISTEN UP GUYS this one has everything: healthy happy relationship, supportive friends, trauma and healing, mysterious past connections, beautiful men, hot af smut, 100% consent, cutest lovey dovey couple, NO drama, NO “misunderstandings”, NO second ml, NO annoying interfering side characters. You will cry, but because it’s just so good.” 💯

25. Netkama Punch - i haven’t finished and progressed much as i would like tho i know a lot of people have this as their favorite! I will get back to it! The premise of hidden identity and online gaming is one of my fave so i will surely pick this up again.

26. Through the Years - i haven’t finished this yet but it’s a lot of people’s fave

27. Fools (completed) - disillusioned guy meets excitable puppy 🤍

28. Moonquake (completed) - a very unique concept. people on earth have powers and then some of them decided to rebel and live in the Moon. Our MC is one of the best ones on earth and is supposed to bring down the leader of the rebellion. but you all know what happens, they fall in love! AHHHHH! and i have to say the art in this too is exceptional.

29. Men’s wear store and the Royal Princess (completed) - this may be weird for some or slow / not enough action lol. i enjoyed it tho! the MC cross dresses and finds someone who loves and accepts him!

30. Ex Hot Neighbor (completed) - a story that centers around a misunderstanding! MC thinks he can’t date the neighbor cause he’s his friend’s ex. but nope!

31. Forest Sea (completed) - A good and solid fantasy story. Please give it a try! The whole birds vs snakes thing was kinda weird at first but the author made it work.

32. When you were asleep - this hasn’t been updated in a while and it’s so sad because the art is topnotch! the plot is good too, especially the dreamscapes but there’s still a lot to discover cause we wanna know what happened in the past. Why is MC even having these dreams and all that.

33. Beum & Go’s Unholy…. - still ongoing and read few chapters

34. Spring, the color of love (completed) - what a wonderful story. Oftentimes, as a reader, you have that sense of boundary with the narrator. But this one — you can feel and understand what the MC is thinking and going through. even tho i haven’t experienced what he did, i can totally get it. this is one of those tropes where they fall in love during their school years and some misunderstanding happens, they meet again years later and try again. something i would love to re-read even if there are parts of it that hurt. and it’s just proof that if something is meant to be, it will come back to you.

35. Keep Holding On (completed) - a short and sweet read with friends to lovers trope!

36. Wolf in the House (completed) - i am so late with this cause i feel like every list has this story as one of the best. I have to agree! it’s so good! tho i have to say i’m more attached to the second pairing. this one is a perfect mix of fantasy, action, comedy and romance. A solid recommendation!

37. Touch within the Abyss (completed) - AAAAAHHHHHH! a hitman x blind cinnamon roll! read it now! please! it’s so sweet! their love and care for each other is so pure 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

38. 99% in love season 1 (completed) - from bestfriends to lovers in the cutest way! they start fake dating and it leads to more obvs.

39. 99% in love season 2 - their college life and this one has smut scenes!

40. Alpha Trauma ( novel ongoing ) - if you know Omega Complex then you might be aware that this is a sequel of sorts but follows the second lead’s love story if you may. Everyone loves Dohyun so i’m one of those happy readers who is happy that he gets his own story, tho the POV in this is not his but his Omega. If you like ABO and campus setting then this may be for you.

41. Soul Sealer’s school life - The MC is the soul sealer who has to do good deeds to prolong his life, then he meets the ML who has a strong spirit in him. It’s a perfect blend of fantasy, comedy and not so much romance as of the moment. The art is 💯 and i really like to see where this goes!

42. Guidance with Benefits - still ongoing and read few chapters

43. Chiguha Kuna Kisu (completed) - if you like a short read that will make you have overall good vibes then this is it. school setting, two cute boys, a fortunate miscommunication and starting a relationship. it’s so good and made me want to look for more mangas! 🤍

44. Spicy Milk Candy - yandere but in a good way. that’s all i’m gonna say.

45. Ruby Red wo Kamikudaku (completed) - i’m just gonna add the summary below but it’s truly a unique read!

Akane is an Omega who can see people's pheromones as multicolored "crystals”. During his school days, when he was lonely because of his peculiar constitution, he meets Makise, a school nurse teacher. 5 years later, they are miraculously reunited, but Makise has a secret

46. Yume Nara Doko Made Yurusaremasuka (completed) - corporate slave x young policeman. 6 chapters of sweetness!

47. Sparkling Baby (completed) - this is supposedly a sequel for the second lead, but i haven’t read the first story. I just love how the MC/ML first met and then made a mark on each other as strangers — but it wasn’t there time yet. and so they meet again later and navigate their lives together. What attracted me to this story is how the MC changed because of love. For years, he had this sense of what he think is love and looking back, maybe it didn’t work out because love isn’t supposed to be like that. What he found with the ML is real and why it feels different.

48. Ashita kimi no mono ni shite (completed) - this so wholesome! school setting and friends to lovers. quiet boy x cool guy

49. Koibitu Keiyaku chu ni suki (completed) - friends to lovers! fake dating. and well, look at them. so precious together:

50. Camboy Bunny (completed) - i think the title says it all. A delicious read!

51. Beyond the Memories - AAAAAHHHHHHH! the story in itself should be sweet and fluffy but the author manages to squeeze in the undercurrent of there is something wrong. as a reader, there is something big that we don’t know and once it comes out — all of it will be shattered. it looks like there is some sort of regression and MC doesn’t know this but the ML does. The question here is when his memories will come back and will he forgive the ML. We are not in that part yet with what’s available right now so i’m excited!

52. Private Call (completed) - another omegaverse.

53. Senza Replica - guide/esper. very few chapters out and something i will go back to.

I read everything except the novel at BATO. 🫶🏼 covering my may-october 2024 reads.

[cosyvelvetorchid]

8.06 coda (pre episode airing)

Read on a03 above or read below 🩶

**********

“Evan?” Tommy said standing at his kitchen island. His nerves were building with each passing second his boyfriend wasn’t responding. His nerves had began their dancing when he’d opened his mail after getting home from his shift and seeing the letter from the Oregon Fire Department recruitment department.

“Can you say something please?”

What could Buck say? There was nothing to say. Tommy was leaving. That was that. Why prolong his torture with a conversation about the ins and outs.

“When do you leave?” He said plainly.

“I’m not leaving. At least not- it’s just an offer for an interview. I haven’t accepted it—I wanted to have a conversation about with you first.”

“There’s no conversation to have. You want the job and I know it’s your dream job and I think they’d be lucky to have you.” He finally looked at Tommy and smiled. At least he tried to smile but his eyes gave away how false it was.

“Evan, I-“

“It’s okay, really. Listen, I have to go I’m meeting Maddie for lunch.” He stepped forward and kissed Tommy on the cheek before walking out of Tommy’s kitchen toward the front door. **

“Buck, what are you doing here?” Maddie asked as Buck approached her and Josh in the dispatch break room. “Everything okay? You look like you’ve been cursed?”

Buck glared at her as she tried to stifle a laugh.

“Too soon?” She asked. When Buck just stared at her instead of laughing along she knew that something was wrong. “Okay, spill. What’s going on?”

“Tommy’s leaving.” He said.

“What?”

“He’s got a job interview in Oregon.”

“Wait, what?” She asked again.

“Yeah. Applied to be on this waitlist thing apparently a month before we met and they sent him a letter today offering him an interview .”

Maddie always tried to be patient and attentive with her brother but sometimes he was very trying.

“Okay.” She took a deep breath. “Does he have an interview for the job or does he already have the job?” She asked.

“Does it matter?” He asked.

“Uh, yeah, Buck.” She said firmly.

“An interview.” He said with a sigh.

“Right, so he’s not actually leaving. At least not now, right?”

“Well he will if he gets the job.”

“Okay, Buck, sit down and Josh will make you tea. Won’t you Josh?” She looked at him with a smile.

“Uh, I thought I was the underboss around here? I’m supposed to be ordering you around.” He argued and Maddie just smiled at them. “Urgh, fine! But you’re buying coffee from the cart next time.”

“Deal .” She said then turned back to Buck. “Okay, so start from the beginning.”

“Okay, so Tommy got a letter in the mail today offering him an interview for a Captains position in Oregon. Apparently he’d applied the month before he met me.” Maddie nodded, listening intently and Josh placed a mug of tea in front of him. “Thanks. So apparently he’d forgotten all about it until he got the letter.”

“Okay...” Maddie waited for her brother to continue but he didn’t. He did that annoying he’d done since he was kid where he knew what the point he was making was and just expected her to know.

“Am I going to get the point via telepathy, or..?”

Buck rolled his eyes. “The point is that he’s going to leave me.”

“You don’t know that.” Josh said trying to reassure him.

“Yes, I do.” He said confidently. “He’s incredible at his job—there’s no way he wouldn’t nail the interview. So, he’ll pass that, they’ll offer him the job and either he goes there and we do long distance or he breaks up with me. Either way he’s still going to leave.” The me at the end of the sentence was left unsaid but Maddie and Josh picked up on it.

“And he told you this?” She asked.

“Well, no but-“

Maddie sighed. “What exactly did he say?”

“He said he wanted to have a conversation with me first.”

“Okay. And how did that conversation go?”

“Uh, it didn’t.” He admitted.

“And why not?” She asked; annoyance at the edge of her tone.

“Because it’s pointless. He’s leaving.”

Maddie sighed hard and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Buck, I love you but oh my god you’re an idiot.”

“Oh, thanks. Kick a man while he’s down.” He complained.

“Buck, how many times will you jump to a conclusion in a relationship and be proved wrong before you start to believe that you’re going about things the wrong way?”

“How is there a wrong way here?” He protested.

“All he said was he was offered an interview for a job he applied for before he met you and he wanted to talk to you about it. That is not the same as getting the job, let alone moving away from here.”

“It sounds like Tommy thinks you’re important enough to have a discussion about it before he makes any decision. That’s not a bad thing, Buck.” Josh added.

Buck sighed. He knew Josh was right but he was scared of that that conversation with Tommy would look like; how it would end.

“I know I’m important to him—he’s important to me too. One of the most important people and-“

“Do you love him?” Maddie asked out of the blue.

“What?” Buck replied taken aback.

“It’s a simple question, Buck. Are you in love with Tommy?”

He looked at her for a second and sighed.

“More than I know what to do with.” He admitted. Mostly to Maddie (and Josh) and also in part to himself.

“Then the answer is simple.” She looked back at him.

“Am I the one getting the point from telepathy, now?”

Maddie rolled her eyes “You fight for him.” She told him. “Look, when I was sick and went to Boston, Chimney drove halfway around the country trying to find me. Because he loved me and couldn’t imagine giving me up without a fight.”

“Maddies right.” Josh added. “You’ve got a hot boyfriend who adores you—and even if it doesn’t work out and he still leaves or you break up because of it-“

“Josh!” Maddie chastised.

“Hey!” Josh said. “I’m not saying they’re gonna break up, I’m just saying that if that were to happen because of this potential move, at least you’ll know that you did everything you could.”

“He has a point.” Maddie said patting Josh on the upper arm.

“Please put that in writing, thank you.” Josh said causing Maddie to playfully roll her eyes.

“Seriously, Buck. You know the answer to this: you need to talk to him—hear him out and only react or respond to what he actually says, not what you’re brain is telling you he’s said.”

“Yeah.” He sighed, nodding his head. “I-I can do that.” Again, it wasn’t just Maddie and Josh he was trying to convince.

-

Buck arrived back at his apartment and paced the kitchen whilst he waited for Tommy to arrive. He’d texted him before he left dispatch and asked him to meet him at the apartment.

In what felt like hours, but really less than 30 minutes, there was a knock at the door and Buck was letting Tommy in.

“Thanks for coming.”

“Of course. Listen Ev-“

“No.” Buck interrupted lifting his hand up. “If you don’t mind I would like to say something first.”

Tommy nodded and sat down at the island. “Okay.”

Buck stood at the opposite side of the island and took a couple of breaths.

“I’ve had so many people in my life leave, and I’ve spent so much time resenting them for abandoning me that it’s hard to not think it’s inevitable in any relationship I’ve had. But, the thing is, I’ve realised that it wasn’t entirely their fault. Not really.

When Abby went to Europe I could have begged her to stay, or gone with her or-or when she wasn’t sure when she was coming back I could have hopped on a flight to Ireland or Spain or Morocco or wherever she was and just been there with her. But I didn’t. When Ali said she couldn’t handle me being in a dangerous job I could have reassured her more or promised her I’d be okay, but I didn’t.

When Taylor did that story, even though I was right to be angry, I could have talked more to her about and try to fix the issue, but I didn’t—I just asked her to move out. And Natalia? That one would never have worked out anyway.

My point is that I didn’t fight. I didn’t fight for them or our relationships—I just accepted that our relationship was done and let them leave. I deserve my share of the fault too.”

He took another deep, now slightly shaking, breath and continued.

“When you told me about the Oregon interview I freaked out because all of a sudden all I saw was another person I care about leaving me. I can’t deny that you potentially leaving sucks, but here’s the the thing:

If our relationship isn’t going to work out, then I’ll be damned if it’s because I didn’t fight for it. So here I am, Tommy. Fighting for it. Fighting for y-you.” His voice cracked.” Because Tommy, I.. I’m in love with you.”

Bucks heart was thundering violently in his chest as he waited for Tommy to say something. Anything.

Tommy stared in shock at Buck for a moment, before eventually—finally—his face morphed into that beautiful smiling one with the lines decorating his eyes. He got up from the chair and walked across to Buck, sliding his hands around his waist.

“I’m in love with you, too.”

As sad as Buck was at the prospect of his boyfriend leaving couldn’t help but smile.

“And I’m not going to the interview.” He added to Bucks complete surprise.

“Wha-what?”

“Evan, when I applied for that job I was alone. I had nobody around that would really miss me all that much. And that was okay—I was used to being alone. But then I met you and everything changed. Suddenly I had someone who wanted to hear about my day. Someone who would drive all the way over to my place the other side of town just to spend an hour with me before his own shift. Someone who makes me feel like I’m something precious and someone important.”

Buck was trying really hard to keep the tears from falling but it was getting hard.

“But it’s an amazing job opportunity, Tommy.”

“And there will be other ones. But there’s only one you, Evan. And there’s nothing so important in my life that it will take me away from you.”

He took Bucks face gently in his and pressed a long kiss onto his lips.

Bucks resolve fell away and the tears fell down his cheeks. They were happy tears and relieved tears. Tears that his boyfriend whom he loved, loved him too. Tears that he finally had a partner who made him feel so valued and loved and wanted that he didn’t know what to do with it half the time.

Tears that Tommy Kinard was his.

Tears that he was Tommy Kinard’s.

[creamflix]

UNSCRIPTED — toji fushiguro x female reader [chapter 2/?]

summary: you’re a faceless author of scandalous smut — great at writing steamy scenes but totally clueless about real-life romance (and with no one to match your freak). enter toji fushiguro, a hot stranger you (accidentally) throw up on during a drunken night out. surprise! he’s also the future voice actor for your smutty novel’s main character. can you survive the awkwardness of your disastrous meet-cute while keeping your identity (and dignity) a secret? welcome to the chaos of your own erotic fantasy romcom!

content warning & tags: (erotic) voice artist! toji, (smut) writer! reader, smutty content!! [will be added over the course of the series], sort of workplace romance, secret/anon identity, slight social media au, meet-cute, virgin!reader, single dad dilf! toji, kid! megumi, strangers to lovers (?), she fell first but he fell harder, mentions of other characters (satoru gojo, suguru geto, megumi fushiguro, shoko eiri, brief mentions of ryomen sukuna)

notes: hi friends !! i hope u're liking the series so far <3 seems like persephone! suguru can't catch a break huh D: i wanted to highlight the same scene[s] from suguru's perspective, just to give him a lil depth :") if u want to keep up with the series more quicker, i highly suggest keeping up with the series on ao3 [for quicker updates ^^] thank you to my taglist for their support too :)

read on ao3! ● series masterlist

➤ related au: persephone [business tycoon! sukuna x reader]

the drive to megumi’s school was unusually quiet. 

normally, toji would lean into his usual “cool, brooding single dad” act — just enough to avoid attention but keep an edge. but today, he’d done something weirdly out of character: asked you to tag along. 

not that he’d admit it was for any other reason than megumi, obviously. 

nope. definitely nothing else to it.

just… kinda nice having you along for the ride, right?

the two of you settled into his car, and you couldn’t help but smirk at how the radio was suspiciously off. toji didn’t give any explanation, but you were pretty sure it was a preventative measure to avoid another “iris” moment and the resulting accidental kiss. 

which, okay, was kinda cute.

toji tapped his fingers against the wheel, casting the occasional sideways glance at you before finally saying, “so… just curious.” he cleared his throat, like he was trying not to make a big deal out of the question. “what made you, uh… you know, want to write those books?”

you blinked. “oh, my books?”

“yeah, the… passionate ones.” he coughed, looking anywhere but at you. “like, what inspired you to write those… intensely worded stories?”

you laughed, caught off guard. “okay, first of all, ‘intensely worded?’ that’s one way to put it.”

“look, i’m trying to be polite,” he said, giving you a sidelong smirk that made your stomach flip. “but seriously. i mean, it’s a specific line of work. what got you into it?”

you chewed on the inside of your cheek, feeling the familiar blush creeping up. 

“uh, well… honestly, i just thought it was something fun to try out. i like romance and, you know… writing what people connect with. people like the, um, more intense stuff, so… figured i’d give it a shot.”

he nodded, taking it all in. “huh. so, all that… stuff you write —” he paused, trying to phrase it carefully. “that’s from experience or…?”

you let out an awkward laugh, your face heating up even more. “not exactly. i… well, i actually haven’t… i mean, i’m still… y’know.” 

you cleared your throat. “a virgin.”

toji’s eyes went wide. 

“wait, you’re telling me… all that detail, the way you describe things, and you haven’t even…”

“nope.” you shook your head, biting back a smile at his shocked expression. “guess you could say i have a good imagination?”

he let out a low whistle, looking at you with something that was a mix of admiration and… something else you couldn’t quite place. “well, i gotta give you credit. you write it like you’ve, uh, lived it.”

you shrugged, trying to play it cool. “guess it’s all about the research.”

he raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “research, huh? well, you’ve got some serious talent in the ‘research’ department then. i’d hate to see what you’d write if you actually… y’know, had the experience.”

“well, maybe one day i will,” you shot back, feeling a little bolder. “and then my books will be even better.”

he chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “you’re something else.”

for a moment, the two of you just looked at each other, a silent understanding passing between you. 

the tension was thick enough to cut, and toji looked like he was about to say something else when megumi’s school finally came into view. he let out a breath, the moment effectively broken as he focused on finding a parking spot.

but as you both waited for megumi to come out, you couldn’t help but wonder what was going through toji’s head… and if he was thinking the same thing you were.

the second megumi spotted you and toji at the school gates, he was off like a shot, running toward you with all the enthusiasm of a kid who’d been waiting all day to see his favorite people. his grin was wide, and his little backpack bounced as he bolted up. and to your surprise (and toji's too), he didn’t go for his dad first — nope, he ran right into your arms like you were his personal safe haven.

“you came!” he squealed, hugging you tightly around the waist as if he hadn't just seen you yesterday. you laughed, hugging him back just as warmly, and you could practically feel the teachers’ eyes drilling holes into your back.

“of course i did,” you said, ruffling his hair. “what, you thought i’d miss out on picking you up?”

“nope!” he said proudly, pulling back and grabbing your hand as if to make sure you wouldn’t vanish.

toji stood off to the side, his hands in his pockets, trying to hide his smirk as he watched the scene unfold. yeah, he wasn’t about to complain about you being here — not at all.

as you all made your way back to the car, you couldn’t help but notice a few teachers and parents exchanging knowing looks, no doubt remembering how toji introduced you as his “colleague” yesterday. they didn’t look too convinced anymore.

inside the car, megumi settled comfortably between the two of you in the backseat, clutching his backpack like he was about to embark on the world’s most exciting road trip.

“sooo!” megumi started, a mischievous look in his eyes. “did you two have fun while i was in school?”

toji let out a tiny cough from the driver’s seat, looking at you in the rearview mirror with a hint of a smirk. “megumi, what exactly do you mean by ‘fun’?”

“i dunno, daddy!” megumi rolled his eyes in that dramatic way only an eight-year-old could pull off. “you were smiling all morning! you never do that!”

you tried to hide a smile yourself, glancing sideways at toji. “he was smiling all morning, huh?”

toji shot you a playful glare before focusing back on the road. “you got somethin’ to say about that?”

“nope, nothing at all,” you replied, suppressing a giggle.

“you’re smiling too!” megumi added, turning his full attention to you with a face that was way too smug for a kid his age. “did you like being with my dad today?”

your eyes widened as you exchanged a quick look with toji. “well, yes, i had a great time working with your dad,” you said carefully, trying to dodge the landmine that megumi had unknowingly set.

“yeah, but did you and daddy, like, do anything else? like on tv?”

toji almost choked, and you couldn’t stop a laugh from slipping out. “megs! we just talked and laughed a bit, nothing like in the movies, promise.”

megumi looked skeptical, folding his arms. “then why are you both acting all funny?”

“what do you mean, ‘funny’?” toji asked, raising an eyebrow in the rearview mirror.

“like… i dunno, all shy and weird,” megumi huffed, his brows furrowing in confusion. “like when the kids at school talk about people who like each other.”

your cheeks were definitely heating up, and you could tell toji was trying not to laugh.

“sometimes people just… act like that when they’re really comfortable,” toji explained, trying to sound nonchalant. “not everything’s like it is on tv.”

“oh,” megumi said, though he didn’t look totally convinced. 

“soooo, when are you guys gonna have a playdate without me?”

“what?” you and toji both burst out at the same time, while megumi just grinned, proud of himself for catching you both off guard.

“you two look like you want more playdates,,” he added with a shrug, like he was the expert on the subject.

toji shook his head, laughing under his breath. “how about you let the adults figure that out, hm?”

“fine, fine,” megumi said, obviously pleased with himself. “but i wanna know when you guys have another playdate, ‘kay?”

you patted his shoulder, chuckling. “deal, kiddo. you’ll be the first to know.”

as toji pulled out onto the street, you settled back, sharing an amused look with him in the mirror. and as megumi continued his non-stop chatter about school, dinosaurs, and how he wanted both of you to come to his next soccer game, you felt that fuzzy feeling again — the same one from last night. maybe having these two around wasn’t so bad at all.

toji pulled up to his house, shifting into park before a sudden realization hit him like a freight train — you were still along for the ride. it was supposed to be a quick pickup, maybe a casual goodbye once megumi was dropped off, but here you were, in the passenger seat, smiling as megumi practically buzzed with excitement beside you.

"uh… so… yeah, this is… my place,” he said, scratching the back of his head, feeling uncharacteristically awkward. he wasn’t sure if he should invite you in or just wave goodbye with some half-baked excuse. 

but before he could even finish his internal debate, megumi had his own plans.

“that means you can come see my room!” megumi exclaimed, his eyes lighting up as he threw open the door and scrambled out of the car.

“oh, i don’t wanna intrude —” you started, already moving to say goodbye, but megumi was way ahead, bounding up the steps and glancing back with an impatient wave.

“c’mon!” he insisted, practically dancing in place with excitement. “you gotta see my plushies and my legos! oh, and my origami stuff, and —”

toji opened the front door, and as soon as you were inside, megumi was by your side again, tugging at your hand with a grip surprisingly strong for a kid. “you gotta see everything!” he said, eyes gleaming.

“okay, okay!” you laughed, letting him lead the way.

toji watched, a little dumbfounded. he’d seen megumi excited before, sure, but this was a whole new level. “hey, uh, megs, maybe she’s tired. we don’t wanna overwhelm her, y’know?” he said, trying to sound casual and almost hoping you’d back out to save him from his own nerves.

“no way!” megumi protested, his voice emphatic. “she’s gotta see my dinos and my race cars and my drawings too! pleaseeee?”

“don’t worry, i think i can handle it,” you chuckled, shooting toji a reassuring look. 

he let out a sigh, feeling a mix of relief and… something else he really didn’t wanna unpack at the moment.

megumi practically dragged you down the hall toward what toji modestly called his “suite,” which was more like a sprawling kid paradise decked out in a swanky setup. it was undeniably luxurious — the kind of suite most people would call their whole apartment — but it was still a kid’s space through and through. plushies lay scattered around in a trail leading to the bedroom, where legos, crayons, toy cars, and origami creations decorated the floor in random bursts of color. every available surface was covered in megumi’s little projects and treasures.

“wow, megumi, you weren’t kidding!” you said, genuinely impressed. you walked over to a group of origami animals on his desk. “did you make all of these?”

“yep!” he puffed up his chest with pride, holding up a particularly crumpled paper crane. “this one’s my favorite. it didn’t come out great, but it’s special ‘cause daddy helped me with it.”

toji felt a funny warmth spread through his chest. he tried to brush it off, but it was hard to ignore seeing the two of you in his home, talking like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“and here’s mr. wiggles!” megumi said, suddenly pulling over a massive, well-loved teddy bear that looked like it’d been through a hundred battles. “daddy got him for me when i was little.”

“mr. wiggles is a great name,” you laughed, crouching down to inspect the bear. “i bet he’s been on a lot of adventures with you.”

“yeah, he’s been to the doctor with me, and the dentist, and he helps me with my homework sometimes,” megumi explained with the seriousness only an eight-year-old could muster.

toji chuckled, folding his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. “he’s a busy bear, huh?”

“super busy,” megumi agreed, pulling you over to his lego city next. 

“this is where the ninjas live, and over here’s where the dinosaurs hide.”

“oh, and here i thought ninjas and dinos couldn’t get along,” you teased, glancing over at toji, who was doing a poor job at hiding his amusement. “you must be the peacekeeper, megumi.”

“i am!” he laughed, then suddenly looked up at toji. 

“daddy, can she stay for dinner?”

toji’s eyes widened slightly. he hadn’t even considered dinner yet.

but the thought of you here, in his space, a part of his evening routine with megumi… it felt way too good to resist.

“uh, well, if she’s got the time,” he mumbled, scratching his neck and pretending to be cool about it. “you don’t gotta stick around if you got other things.”

“actually, i’d love to stay, if that’s okay?” you said, glancing between them both.

toji tried to act casual, even though his heart was doing a little victory lap. “yeah, sure. why not?”

“yes!” megumi cheered, already running out the door. “i’ll get the table ready!”

“is he… always this excited?” you asked, turning to toji with a chuckle.

“not usually,” toji admitted, scratching the back of his head. “guess you got that effect on him.”

the three of you settled around the table, megumi proudly munching away on his ironman-themed plate, the red and gold colors a little faded from years of use. he shot you a grin, already halfway through explaining ironman’s latest mission to save the world… for the third time.

toji, meanwhile, sat across from you, feeling inexplicably fidgety as he set down the fine china he’d pulled from the back of a cabinet. he'd dusted off every inch of those plates — his mind still spinning with why he even bothered. 

he wasn’t usually one for this kind of thing, but when he saw how carefully you ladled the stew into the bowls, he couldn’t help but notice you gave that same care to megumi too, nodding along as he chattered away about his superhero theories.

“you know, daddy never gets the cool plates out for anyone else,” megumi piped up, completely oblivious to the faint flush creeping up his dad’s face.

“oh really?” you chuckled, raising an eyebrow in toji’s direction. “well, i feel honored then. i’ll try not to drop it.”

toji groaned internally, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “kid’s got a big mouth,” he muttered, shooting megumi a faux warning look, though his own ears were burning.

“you’ve got good taste, though,” you teased him lightly, glancing down at the pristine white china with intricate blue patterns.

“yeah, well… s’just plates. they’re old,” toji shrugged, hoping that downplaying it would erase any significance you might read into the whole situation.

“old but pretty,” you said, not looking up as you ladled some stew for megumi, who was eagerly waiting with his bowl stretched out. “here you go, megumi. i made it a little less spicy for you, just like you asked.”

megumi’s eyes sparkled as he accepted the bowl. “thanks! you make the best stew!”

toji watched as you smiled back at megumi, completely absorbed in whatever he was babbling about, offering little “uh-huhs” and “reallys” as he animatedly described his favorite ironman scene. watching you like this, giving his kid your full attention even while busy in the kitchen, felt so… weird. 

like something he didn’t realize was missing, but now that it was there, he couldn’t imagine going without it.

“and then ironman totally blasts the villain’s robot suit — kaboom!” megumi finished, flinging his arms wide as if to demonstrate the explosion.

“kaboom, huh?” you laughed, sitting back in your chair, clearly enjoying his enthusiasm. “sounds intense.”

“yeah! ironman doesn’t mess around,” megumi said with a sage nod, as if passing on some universal wisdom. “but he’s gotta protect everyone, even the people who don’t like him.”

“sounds like a pretty cool guy,” you mused, glancing over at toji with a small smile. “maybe you two have something in common.”

“oh, god,” toji groaned, but he couldn’t fight the smirk that tugged at his lips. “don’t give him ideas, he’ll think i’m gonna go fight crime or somethin’.”

“wouldn’t that be so cool?” megumi interjected, eyes sparkling. “you could be like… iron dad!”

toji rolled his eyes, but he caught the look on your face — amused, warm, like you were seeing a side of him that no one else really noticed. 

and for some reason, that was way too close to the truth for comfort. 

he cleared his throat, glancing down at his stew to avoid meeting your gaze.

“maybe i’ll just stick to keeping this kid in one piece,” toji muttered, but his heart was beating a little faster than usual.

and as megumi kept up his enthusiastic rambling, it all started to feel too cozy, too right. the clinking of plates, the soft warmth in the air, the way you didn’t rush megumi but let him take center stage as he shared his endless thoughts — it all blended together into something that felt like home, even if toji wouldn’t dare say it out loud.

as you reached for another spoonful of stew, listening intently to megumi’s latest story about his lego creations, toji realized that, yeah… this felt pretty damn right.

megumi clutched his book eagerly, eyes shining as he snuggled into bed, clearly over the moon that you’d agreed to stay for his bedtime story. he gave toji a serious look, announcing, “since daddy can’t do girl voices — cuz he’s a voicing actor, but he’s not that good — you gotta help with the girl lines, okay?”

“oh, yeah?” toji shot him a mock glare. “that’s a pretty big request, squirt. you sure i can’t just, y’know, growl like a tiger or something?”

megumi shook his head, adamant. “nope! you’re supposed to be the bear prince, and she’s the bunny princess! and then they meet at the river — just read, daddy.”

toji rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t hide the faint smile as he settled in beside megumi, 

taking the book from his son’s hands. “alright, alright, let’s do this right. bunny princess and bear prince — sounds about as weird as it gets, but we’ll make it work.”

with megumi sandwiched between the two of you, you leaned over to see the page. 

“the bunny princess hopped through the forest, searching for her friend, the bear prince, who was known for his wisdom and strength,” you read in a soft voice, giving it your best princess tone.

megumi nodded, satisfied. “much better than uncle gojo,” he whispered to you in a conspiratorial tone, “his princess voice is just… weird.”

toji stifled a snicker, picking up the next line. 

“the bear prince, with his deep, growly voice, stepped out from behind the tree, saying, ‘i hear you’re lookin’ for a friend. well, look no further.’”

megumi giggled, clutching the blanket as he looked up at toji in admiration. “now that’s a good bear voice, daddy! you don’t gotta growl or nothing.”

you shot toji a playful look. “see? you’re already halfway to voice actor stardom.”

“sure, sure, as long as i don’t have to wear princess crowns, i think i’ll survive,” he smirked, giving the book back to you to read the bunny’s next line.

“‘oh, bear prince, i’m so happy to see you!’ the bunny princess chirped, hopping closer. ‘the forest feels so safe with you here.’”

toji took his turn, grinning. 

“‘that’s right, princess. stick close to me, and nothing can harm you — not even that pesky fox from the riverbank.’”

megumi, eyes already starting to droop, nodded in sage approval, mumbling, “bears are super strong…”

as the story unfolded, with each of you taking on your character’s lines, you couldn’t help but notice how megumi’s little body relaxed more and more, eyelids growing heavier as he listened to the tale of the bunny princess and bear prince’s forest adventure.

 finally, after you’d read the line where the bunny and bear bid each other goodnight under the stars, you heard megumi’s soft, even breathing.

you and toji shared a glance, both of you lowering your voices.

“looks like our audience conked out before the big finale,” you whispered with a smile, your voice barely above a murmur.

“heh,” toji chuckled, glancing at his son’s sleeping face. “usually he stays up longer, keeps asking for more.” he paused, watching you with a look that seemed to say more than his words. “maybe he’s just got a soft spot for princess voices… or maybe, you know, a good storyteller.”

a soft warmth settled in the quiet room, the gentle rise and fall of megumi’s breathing filling the space as you both stayed still for a moment, neither wanting to break the spell.

you stood up slowly from megumi’s bed, glancing down at the little guy, still out cold, his mouth slightly open as he clutched his iron man plush. the clock on the wall blinked “9:00 pm,” and your stomach sank a little — hadn’t you meant to leave hours ago? 

but when you made a quiet move toward the door, toji was right there, leaning in the doorway, hands shoved in his pockets.

“you, uh, really don’t have to rush,” he said, almost nonchalant, though his gaze flicked over to megumi. “i mean, for his sake, y’know. wouldn’t want him freaking out if he wakes up in the middle of the night and you’re gone…”

“oh, of course,” you murmured, feeling a warm, slightly strange fluttering sensation at his words. 

“just… so he doesn’t get scared. yeah.”

you glanced down at yourself. god, what were you going to sleep in? your work clothes? 

toji seemed to read your mind, though, tilting his head a bit. “i think i got some old clothes you could wear if you want,” he offered, looking you up and down with that calm, appraising look that made you feel like he saw a bit more than he let on. “not the most fashionable, but they’re clean.”

“thanks, that’d be great,” you said, offering a small smile, and you turned to head toward the door to the guest room — then stopped. “wait… i think i left my phone on his nightstand.”

before you could overthink it, you turned back abruptly, intending to slip past toji back into megumi’s room. 

but somehow, in the dim lighting, the narrow doorway, the warmth of the moment… your face collided with his chest, and then, your lips met his, soft and sudden and all-consuming.

for a heartbeat, everything else fell away: the gentle ticking of the clock, the faint whirring of the a/c, even the warmth of megumi’s room. 

you felt nothing but the weight of toji’s lips against yours, the subtle intake of his breath as he seemed to register just what was happening. there was a moment of hesitation, and then his hand instinctively moved to your waist, pulling you closer with a soft, undeniable insistence.

his voice was a low whisper, barely more than a breath between you. “so… you were just gonna leave without even saying goodbye?”

for a split second, everything froze — the dim hallway, the soft, ambient sounds of the house, the fact that you were standing right outside megumi’s door, where one sleepy sound could catch you both. 

but that one breath against toji’s lips, so close, melted everything else away.

he didn’t pull back; if anything, his hold on your waist only tightened, fingers pressing just enough to send a warm ripple up your spine. his eyes met yours, slightly wide, as if he couldn’t quite believe he had you like this, so close. you could almost feel his heartbeat thrumming in sync with your own, and you let out a shaky breath, your lips brushing his again.

“this… is not what i planned when i came over,” you murmured, barely able to get the words out as your forehead touched his. “not — not in front of your kid’s room.”

“mm,” he whispered, gaze dropping to your lips, that barely-there smirk flickering across his face, “it’s a first for me too.” he held your gaze, his expression softening, something almost tender in his eyes as he raised his hand to gently brush a strand of hair from your face. 

“but if you wanted to leave… you would’ve pulled away by now.”

you bit your lip at the way his thumb lingered on your cheek, his breath warm against your skin, and before you knew it, your lips found his again. this time, it was slower, unhurried, like you had all the time in the world to feel the way his mouth moved against yours, soft and then a little firmer, as he seemed to lose himself in the moment.

he leaned into you, pressing you just slightly against the wall, his hand sliding from your waist up to the small of your back, drawing you close. the quiet was filled only with the shared breaths between you two, a quiet hum that passed between your lips, as if even the smallest sound might wake megumi just on the other side of the wall.

you found your hand on his chest, fingers curling in his shirt, pulling him a little closer, wanting to deepen the kiss even though every bit of common sense told you to stop. his lips parted, pressing small, lingering kisses along your lower lip, his fingers tracing gentle circles along your back as though he was trying to savor every second. you were barely breathing, lost in the warmth of him, feeling him melt just a little against you.

“god, you’re making it hard to stop,” he murmured against your lips, his voice almost a growl but so quiet it barely even registered.

“i don’t think i want to,” you whispered back, eyes meeting his in the dim light. he held your gaze, his thumb tracing a soft line along your cheek, but he didn’t move away, staying close, his nose brushing yours in a way that was so tender you almost forgot how precarious this was.

you both laughed quietly, the sound soft and low, the kind of laugh that was more of a breath shared between you. toji glanced back at megumi’s door, and for a second, his face softened in a way you rarely saw, as if he couldn’t help but feel this moment was just a little forbidden.

“maybe we should… try this somewhere a little less dangerous,” he muttered, though he didn’t make any move to let go, his gaze flicking back to yours.

“you mean… like a first date or something?” you murmured, lips curling into a soft smile.

“guess i don’t mind a second kiss either,” he replied, brushing his lips against yours one last time before stepping back, the space between you suddenly feeling too cold, too quiet.

as he stepped back, the reality of the hallway — the very literal door to his son’s room right beside you — set in, but the warmth still lingered, and the smile he gave you as he walked you down the hall felt like a promise for something more, something you both couldn’t wait to explore.

the “boys night” at gojo-sonic’s swanky office was nothing short of its usual absurdity, with gojo dubbing it the “greatest tradition ever” as he practically threw around the “finest” sweet alcohol like it was candy. 

toji was there, albeit begrudgingly, mostly due to gojo’s persistence (“c’mon, you’re the only one who knows how to enjoy this premium stuff!”), and suguru joined from a dimly-lit zoom window, his face half-smiling, half-tired as he sipped on a glass of his own.

“missing out, suguru,” gojo teased, tilting back his drink. “oh, but thanks for the wine, by the way. nothing says ‘wish i were there’ like sending over a box of booze from you and your business partner.”

“oh, for heaven’s sake,” suguru muttered, though his smirk suggested he didn’t mind. “it was a halloween release. figured it’d keep you all happy and…unbearable.”

toji chuckled, swirling his glass and trying not to roll his eyes as gojo feigned offense.

“unbearable? me?” gojo put a hand over his heart. “if you actually joined us in person, you’d see i’m the highlight of this ‘boys night.’ it’s practically a public service, sugu-boo. oh, and shoutout to persephone for making it possible, of course.”

“yeah, yeah, you’re a real gift to mankind,” suguru replied, his tone deadpan, but his smile lingered as he took a sip. 

“so what’re you boys talking about? since i can’t be there to hear it firsthand.”

toji shifted, debating on whether or not he wanted to launch into the mess that had been swirling in his head all week. but with the alcohol settling in and gojo’s usual chatter as encouragement, it was hard to hold back. he sighed, resting his elbow on the arm of the chair, looking anywhere but the screen.

“oh, just, y’know… kid stuff.”

gojo raised a brow. “kid stuff? you mean, how megumi’s practically obsessed with y/n?”

“please,” toji groaned, rubbing his temple. “that kid’s dragging her around like she’s his second parent.”

“sounds like he’s got good taste,” suguru noted with a grin, sipping his wine. “and from what you said last week, he’s already planning on keeping her around for life, huh?”

toji shot him a look through the screen, but he knew they were right. megumi was over the moon whenever you came around, from showing off every little toy he owned to making you part of bedtime stories. 

it was adorable, sure, but it made this whole situation way more… intense than he’d signed up for.

“kid talks about her all the time,” toji admitted, swirling his glass again. “like, even his teachers thought she was his mom or something. and she…well, she’s good with him. she’s damn good.” he looked down, a smirk tugging at his lips. “which, believe it or not, i didn’t expect when we first met.”

“ohhh?” gojo leaned in, that smirk of his spreading as he raised a brow. “and you? what did you expect?”

toji glanced away, that hint of a smirk still there, despite himself. “don’t make me say it.”

“oh, we’re making you say it,” gojo teased, sliding another drink his way. “so, you’re saying she’s…wife material?”

suguru nearly choked on his drink, and the way he was watching toji from the screen made it clear he wasn’t missing a second of this.

toji scoffed, taking a gulp to keep from saying anything too embarrassing. “she’s… special. hell, i didn’t plan on getting attached, and yet —” he paused, chuckling almost self-consciously. “i feel like a damn teenager.”

“and here i thought you were the king of nonchalance,” suguru teased, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

“yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” toji muttered, trying to shake it off. 

but the truth was, the second he was alone, he found himself thinking about you, about the way megumi’s face lit up when you were around, the way you just… fit into their little world without even trying. 

it was surreal. 

the damn wine probably didn’t help, either.

gojo slapped him on the back, clearly enjoying this way too much. “well, for what it’s worth,” he said, his voice surprisingly sincere, “megumi deserves someone good. and maybe you do too.”

toji rolled his eyes, but he didn’t bother denying it. if anything, he felt the tiniest glimmer of hope. 

that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t screw this one up.

gojo snickered, his smirk all-knowing as he raised his glass. “i’ve got it,” he said with way too much enthusiasm, the kind he only had when he was on the brink of embarrassing the hell out of someone. “toji, you and y/n could do a joint wedding with suguru and his ‘business partner.’ i mean, if suguru grows a spine and confesses, that is.”

on the other end of the zoom call, suguru’s smirk vanished as fast as it appeared, and he looked away, running a hand through his hair. “not happening,” he muttered, all but glaring at the screen. “it’s… complicated.”

gojo pouted, tilting his head in mock sympathy. “oh, come on. ‘complicated’? it’s not that deep. just throw her some wine, flash that tragic backstory, and she’ll be yours in no time.”

“it’s not that simple,” suguru snapped, though his face softened as he leaned back, sighing. 

“besides, we’re in… limbo, i guess. we’ve had our confessions, but there’s no label. not yet, anyway.”

“awww,” gojo teased, his voice dripping with feigned sympathy. 

“look at us! a bunch of grown men, all hung up on love troubles. what happened to the days when it was just work, money, and some good old-fashioned ego trips?”

“those days are over,” toji grunted, crossing his arms as he glanced at the screen. “but you’d know a thing or two about those ‘ego trips,’ wouldn’t you?”

suguru let out a snort of laughter, finally letting himself relax a little. “and don’t forget ryomen sukuna,” he added, the name alone making everyone groan. “that bastard practically swooped in to turn our business lives upside down and make everything more… interesting. joint venture or not, the guy’s insufferable. he’s like a cat, always hissing and scratching his way to the top.”

gojo laughed, tipping his drink toward the screen. “tell me about it. it’s like everyone has a thorn in their side when it comes to love these days.” 

he smirked, nudging toji. “and you, my friend, are no exception. so when’s the confession, huh? are we waiting on some fairytale moment here?”

toji rolled his eyes, swirling the last of his drink. “i’m not confessing to anyone,” he grumbled. “i’ve got megumi to think about.”

“right, right, megumi,” gojo said, drawing out the name with a grin that was anything but innocent. “and here i thought you liked y/n for yourself.”

“and here i thought you’d shut up at some point tonight,” toji shot back, but his lips betrayed him with a faint, reluctant smirk.

suguru leaned forward, his voice softer. “well, at least megumi’s happy with her around, right? maybe… it’s worth taking a chance.”

toji’s smirk faded, his expression thoughtful. “maybe.”

“see?” gojo beamed, practically giddy. “love is in the air, boys. even for the most stubborn among us.”

suguru shook his head, a smile creeping back onto his face. “well, here’s to complicated feelings and maybe, just maybe, getting them right someday.”

they all raised their glasses, clinking to their shared madness in work, love, and everything in between.

you flopped back on your bed, barely able to keep the grin off your face as you hit the facetime button for shoko. she picked up after a few rings, a cigarette lazily dangling from her fingers, eyebrows raised as she took in your expression.

“uh-oh. what’s got you looking like that?” she asked, smirking.

you let out a giddy little laugh, immediately burying your face in your hands. “shoko, i swear i’m losing it. i’m a grown woman, but i feel like a teenager. it’s embarrassing.”

“this better be good,” she drawled, putting the cigarette to her lips and leaning back, looking every bit the part of the unimpressed but totally-invested best friend.

“okay, okay,” you said, voice dropping to a dramatic whisper. “toji kissed me. twice — by accident, both times. twice, shoko!”

she let out a low whistle, blowing out a plume of smoke. “so the ‘brooding single dad’ finally made his move, huh? you know, twice starts to sound less like an accident and more like he’s got a thing for you.”

you laughed, covering your face with your hands. “oh my god, don’t say that! i can’t even handle it. and he’s just… so close all the time. it’s like every time i turn around, he’s there.”

“that sounds terrible,” she said, rolling her eyes in mock sympathy. “a tall, ridiculously hot single dad, right up in your personal space. how are you surviving?”

you groaned, flopping back dramatically. “it’s not just that! i mean, megumi’s there too, and he’s the cutest kid. he loves me, shoko, i’m actually losing my mind. i feel like i’m part of their lives, and it’s… weirdly nice?”

shoko’s smirk softened a little, her gaze warmer. “sounds like you’re finally finding something real,” she murmured, her voice thoughtful. “i mean, not just with toji, but… you know, with people. gojo insisted you needed someone to keep you on track, but honestly, it sounds like you’re just finding your own way.”

“thank you for not thinking i’m insane,” you muttered, grinning at her.

“please, i’ve been waiting for something juicy like this to pop up in your life,” she replied, flicking some ash into an ashtray with a smirk. “so tell me everything — i want the full rundown on these ‘accidental’ kisses.”

you launched into the details, recounting the flustered stammering, the way you could hardly breathe when he got that close, how you felt like you were in some kind of slow-motion rom-com. shoko didn’t bat an eye, laughing in all the right places, raising her eyebrows at the moments you whispered, and shaking her head whenever you sounded downright ridiculous.

“y’know,” she finally said as you caught your breath, “if this is what being your manager is gonna be like, i might just be here for it. international author and all,” she teased, quoting gojo.

“i’m just glad i have someone who gets it,” you admitted, voice softer. “this is all new to me… the book success, this... love life thing.”

she gave you a small, knowing smile. “well, get used to it. sounds like there’s a lot more coming your way.”

the month flew by in a series of stolen moments that made you feel like you were the protagonist in one of your own novels. 

and, true to his nature, toji somehow managed to sneak in a kiss (or two, or three, but who's counting?) whenever he found you alone at the studio, away from gojo's incessant commentary, the other voice actors, and the wandering eyes of your new manager, shoko ieiri.

you still couldn’t forget that first almost subtle kiss, right outside the recording booth. 

you’d just handed him his revised lines, trying to ignore the way his fingers brushed against yours as he took the pages.

“y’know, you keep handing me all these steamy lines,” he murmured, voice dropping, his mouth way too close to your ear. “someone might think you’re just giving me an excuse.”

“i-it’s for the story,” you stammered, and before you could process it, he leaned down, catching you in a quick, teasing kiss.

“mm. very convincing.” he smirked, straightening just as someone walked by.

“toji!” you hissed, glancing around like a guilty teenager.

“what? i thought it’d help with the performance.” he gave you a half-shrug, that lazy grin of his making your pulse jump. “gotta sell the romance, right?”

then there was the time in the elevator after one of his late recording sessions. you’d been babbling about something mundane, trying to fill the quiet, but he wasn’t paying attention to your words; instead, he just watched your mouth. 

before you knew it, the doors slid closed, and he had you pressed against the mirrored wall, his mouth on yours, hands braced on either side of your head.

“you know,” you whispered breathlessly when you finally broke apart, “if shoko sees us, she’s gonna kill me.”

“good thing we’re alone then,” he murmured, not bothering to step back, his eyes dropping to your lips. “wouldn’t want her thinking you’re getting… distracted on the job.”

“me?” you managed, swallowing a laugh. “you’re the one who can’t keep his hands to himself!”

“maybe i’ll try harder,” he whispered, brushing his thumb along your jaw in a way that felt anything but apologetic. “or maybe i won’t.”

of course, he didn’t. 

the next week, you’d been huddled over a script in the empty break room, reviewing edits from gojo. you barely heard him come in before he slipped up behind you, one hand casually planted on the table as he leaned over your shoulder.

“need any help with those lines?” he asked, voice low, right against your ear.

you barely suppressed a shiver, trying to focus on the paper in your hands. “i, uh… no. no, i think i’ve got it.”

“you sure?” he murmured, lips grazing your ear this time. “because i think i could add a little… flair.”

you turned, and his face was right there, too close to pretend this was anything but what it was. 

before you could tell him off, he closed the gap, kissing you slow and deep, like he had all the time in the world.

“toji,” you finally managed, pulling away, your face burning. “we are at work!”

he shrugged, utterly unbothered. “yeah, but no one’s around, are they?”

you glared, trying to look serious, but he just leaned back, smirking. “besides, i’d say that counts as research.”

“research?”

he grinned, eyes twinkling with a playful light. “gotta stay in character, right?”

every encounter was a tug-of-war between professionalism and… whatever this was. you couldn’t deny you looked forward to the thrill of these secret kisses, even though you spent half your day looking over your shoulder, waiting for shoko to round a corner and catch you in the act.

toji, on the other hand, was infuriatingly nonchalant. like he didn’t care if anyone saw — like he almost wanted to be caught. and he never missed an opportunity to remind you of that.

“so, what’ll it be?” he asked one afternoon as you tried to dodge his latest attempt in the hallway. “you gonna keep hiding from me? or are you finally gonna admit you like it?”

“i’m not hiding,” you replied, trying to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks.

he laughed softly, the sound low and warm. “you’re a terrible liar.”

just then, footsteps echoed from around the corner. you froze, but toji just gave you one last teasing look and walked off, as if nothing had happened.

and maybe that was the worst part — no matter how many times he pulled you in, kissed you breathless, he could just walk away, leaving you wondering if you’d imagined it all.

toji fushiguro, love-struck fool of the century. 

and he hated it. 

he’d scoffed his way through plenty of rom-coms, rolling his eyes at any lovesick protagonist with that stupid, half-dazed smile, lips still parted like they’d just been kissed breathless. 

he never thought he’d be one of them. yet here he was, pacing around his apartment, occasionally touching his lips like some starry-eyed teenager.

“you’re acting like a damn idiot,” he muttered to himself, brushing a hand through his hair, but even that couldn’t erase the lovesick grin creeping onto his face. he barely noticed his phone buzzing with the weekly roster of sugar mamas and daddies, all waiting for their weekly breadcrumb texts from him. hell, he even felt guilty about it now. 

because compared to you? they didn’t stand a chance.

case in point: a text popped up from mona, the one who liked to send him extravagant gifts just for existing.

mona [7:40 pm]: missed u this week. dinner on friday, baby?

toji squinted at the message, thumb hovering over the keyboard, debating if he should even respond. yeah, he probably should. he sighed, cracking his knuckles before halfheartedly typing out a response.

you [7:45 pm]: kinda busy friday. rain check?

there. short and sweet. 

in a past life, he would’ve at least flirted his way out of it. 

but now? he couldn’t muster up anything more. 

god, you’ve got it bad, he thought, half-annoyed at himself as he imagined the smirk gojo would throw his way if he ever found out about this pathetic show of loyalty.

and speaking of the devil —

“toooji!” gojo sang as he slid into the studio the next day, obnoxiously loud.

“man, you’ve been… awfully serious lately. not a single call from mona? or was it alicia? both?”

toji barely glanced up, trying to keep his face as neutral as possible. “i’ve been busy. work.”

“work,” gojo echoed, eyes narrowing with a knowing gleam. “right. and what kind of work are we talking about? the kind that comes with a certain… author’s name attached?”

toji’s lip twitched, but he ignored him. he figured the less he reacted, the less ammo gojo would have.

“oh, come on!” gojo crowed, leaning over the soundboard with an irritating grin. “you really think i haven’t noticed? the lingering looks, the way you sneak off for like ten minutes every time she’s around. you’re a mess, toji.”

toji rolled his eyes, folding his arms across his chest. “i’m not a damn kid, satoru.”

“coulda fooled me,” gojo teased. “god, you look like you’re on the verge of a love confession every time i see you two. why not just go full rom-com mode and declare it in the rain or something?”

“shut your damn mouth,” toji muttered, feeling his ears heat. 

the idea had crossed his mind. he thought about it every damn time he saw you smile or catch his eye across the studio. 

and it was driving him insane.

“speaking of confessions,” gojo continued, not missing a beat, “heard you’ve been turning down… basically everyone these days. sugar mamas, sugar daddies — wow, your self-control’s really kicked in.”

toji groaned, half in frustration, half in something else. it was true. he hadn’t even looked at his inbox in days. 

just not interested, he’d told himself, ignoring how pathetic that sounded.

“oh, oh, oh, don’t tell me…” gojo grinned, the realization dawning on his face. “you’ve gone monogamous, haven’t you?” he snorted. 

“god, you’re whipped.”

“i’ll let you live if you shut up now.”

gojo snickered, unbothered. “what? i’m just giving you some friendly advice, toji. tell her already. do the whole romantic declaration thing. maybe some roses. oh, or better yet, just kiss her the way you keep fantasizing about.”

toji rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “fantasizing, right.”

“admit it, you’re lovesick,” gojo replied with a smirk. “how’s that feel, big guy?”

just then, his phone buzzed again, and he glanced down to see a new message from larry, one of his sugar daddies.

larry: fancy a weekend trip? all expenses on me, baby ;)

toji groaned and quickly sent back a “no thanks, busy,” before slipping his phone away. he looked up to find gojo staring at him, practically vibrating with amusement.

“see? whipped!” gojo announced, loud enough for half the floor to hear.

“keep it down,” toji growled, but he couldn’t keep the ghost of a smile off his face. he knew gojo was right, even if he hated admitting it. he was done pretending it wasn’t true. 

hell, he could barely go an hour without wanting to text you, wanting to see you.

“you don’t get it,” toji said, more to himself than gojo. “she’s… different.”

“oh, i bet she is,” gojo said, nodding like he understood. “now, are you gonna be an idiot and keep pouting like you’ve got something to say? or are you gonna tell her?”

toji didn’t answer, just glared at him before heading for the studio door. but he knew gojo was right. 

he’d run out of excuses, out of distractions. maybe it was time he did something about this ridiculous crush.

as he walked out, he could practically hear gojo’s smirk follow him. 

great.

toji could barely keep his heart from jumping out of his chest as he slipped the little origami ring into your hand, all smooth-like, muttering, “megumi made it for you.” 

but even as he said it, he could feel the heat creeping up his neck, knowing damn well it was mostly his work.

he’d sat down with megumi, who, after a long day of being “helpful,” had finally agreed to show him how to fold paper into something that resembled a ring. and it hadn’t exactly been easy.

“so, kiddo,” toji had started, fidgeting with the corner of a bright blue square of paper. “think you can show me how to, uh… fold this thing into a ring? for… you know… someone.”

megumi squinted up at him, hands on his hips like a pint-sized supervisor. “for her, right?”

toji cleared his throat, looking away. “yeah. something like that.”

megumi snorted, already getting a bit too wise for his age. “you don’t even know how to fold paper, daddy?”

toji groaned. “it’s harder than it looks, alright? just show me how you do it.”

the kid just shook his head, exasperated, but started showing him each fold with careful, precise fingers. they worked through a couple attempts, most of which looked nothing like rings and ended up in the growing pile of crumpled paper on the table. 

it was late, and toji couldn’t remember the last time he’d concentrated this hard on something so… simple. why the hell am i doing this? he thought, glancing at the clock. 

he had work in a few hours, a whole recording schedule to plan for, and yet here he was, folding paper with his son.

“think she’ll like it?” toji asked, holding up one of the finished attempts.

megumi shrugged, but he looked oddly serious as he studied the makeshift ring. “i think she will. ‘cause it’s from you.”

something in toji’s chest squeezed at that, and he clapped a hand on megumi’s shoulder. “don’t go telling anyone about this, alright? not even your uncle gojo. especially not him.”

“why?” megumi asked, genuinely curious.

“because he’ll never let me hear the end of it,” toji muttered, trying to ignore how ridiculous he sounded even to himself. 

yeah, making a paper ring at one in the morning for someone? absolutely insane, but he couldn’t shake the thrill of it, of imagining you smiling when he handed it over.

so, fast-forward to now: the ring was in your hand, your fingers slowly unfolding to reveal it. you glanced up at him, eyes soft with a mix of confusion and surprise, and damn if he didn’t feel his heart do a backflip right then and there.

“he… made this for me?” you asked, voice quiet, almost disbelieving.

“yeah,” toji replied, trying to sound casual but failing spectacularly. “thought you’d like it.” 

he rubbed the back of his neck, fighting the urge to look anywhere but at you, but he couldn’t resist sneaking a glance at your reaction.

you turned the ring over in your hand, a small smile tugging at your lips. “you sure it was megumi who made this?”

his throat went dry. “uh… mostly,” he admitted, feeling that warmth creeping up his neck again. “i might’ve… helped a little.”

“a little, huh?” you teased, eyes sparkling as you slipped the ring onto your finger. “so, is this, like… an official thing now? sealing the deal or whatever?”

toji felt his mouth go dry, a mixture of nerves and excitement coursing through him. 

he hadn’t planned on this meaning anything official — well, maybe he had, but he hadn’t exactly thought it through. 

yet seeing you wearing it, even if it was just a silly piece of folded paper, felt… right.

he shrugged, trying to keep his voice steady. “just thought you deserved somethin’ nice,” he said gruffly. “even if it’s… you know, paper.”

your fingers brushed his, a soft, barely-there touch, and he swore his heart skipped a beat. “i think it’s perfect, toji. no one’s ever… done something like this for me before.”

he felt his chest tighten, the weight of everything he wanted to say pressing against his ribcage. 

all those dumb, sappy things he’d been feeling lately, the way he couldn’t stop thinking about you, the way he felt like a lovesick idiot every time you smiled at him. but he couldn’t bring himself to say any of it, not yet. 

so instead, he settled for squeezing your hand, his thumb tracing a soft circle over your knuckles.

“good,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. “’cause i don’t think i could stand it if you didn’t like it.”

you laughed softly, leaning into him, and he swore he felt the world narrow down to just the two of you, the faint rustle of the paper ring against your finger.

“guess i’ll have to keep it safe then, huh?” you murmured, looking up at him with that smile that made his heart do all kinds of dumb things.

“yeah,” he replied, voice low, unable to stop himself from leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “yeah, you do.”

toji’s eyes nearly pop out of his head when he spots you at the office, that damn paper ring dangling from your phone charm. his paper ring — okay, technically megumi’s paper ring, but still, the one he’d folded with his own hands. he’d thought you might just tuck it away in a drawer or something. 

but here you were, letting it swing around proudly like some priceless gem. he’s not gonna lie — his heart just about catapults itself out of his chest.

he’s doing his best to keep his cool, but the urge to grab you right then and there, haul you over to a quiet corner, and ask you out on a real date feels stronger than ever. propose even. 

god, if he wasn’t too far gone already.

“what’s that little add-on?” gojo’s smug voice cuts through the air, and you laugh, holding up your phone so the charm dangles freely. gojo squints, pretending he’s inspecting it, but there’s a glint in his eye. “who’s the secret admirer, huh? must be a serious romantic to give you something… hand-crafted.”

you shrug, grinning a little too wide. “oh, just… something someone special made for me.”

toji’s face heats up, and he tries to look busy adjusting his microphone levels. 

dammit, did you have to say it like that? he catches gojo’s gaze lingering on him, eyebrows raised. 

oh, he’s got an idea all right.

“hm, special someone?” gojo teases, nudging you, then pretending to look around the room as if your admirer might jump out from behind the studio wall. “wonder who that could be, huh?”

you shrug, pretending like it’s nothing, though you shoot a sly glance in toji’s direction. “maybe he’ll make a move someday. he’s pretty bold but… you know, takes his time.”

toji’s pulse hammers away like a damn drumline, and he clears his throat, trying to sound nonchalant. “yeah, maybe he’s just… tryin’ to find the right time or somethin’.”

“aww,” gojo coos, looking between you and toji with a mischievous smile. “poor guy. wonder if he knows he’s got competition. think he can handle it?”

toji rolls his eyes, shooting gojo a glare. “ain’t nobody competin’,” he says, voice low but firm. “whoever this guy is… he’s got it handled.”

you laugh softly, the sound filling the room, and you hold up the charm, letting it dangle right in front of him as if it’s some sort of challenge. “think he’s ready to seal the deal?”

toji’s gaze flickers to the paper ring, then to you, and suddenly he feels this overwhelming urge to just… go for it. 

he could give you a real ring, sure, someday maybe, but there’s something about this little thing you’ve turned into a charm that makes it feel so much… bigger.

“actually…” he mutters, feeling heat crawl up his neck. “i was thinkin’… maybe i could take you out this weekend. just us.” he looks at you, eyes intent, and there’s a rare seriousness in his voice. “someplace nice. no studio, no interruptions.”

you blink, clearly a bit surprised, but your smile grows, softer now, almost shy. 

“are you asking me out, toji?”

he shrugs, feigning nonchalance but failing miserably. “yeah. maybe… maybe i am.” he reaches out, tugging the charm lightly, letting it dangle between you. “figured it was about time we took this thing seriously.”

gojo bursts into laughter, clapping his hands. “ohhh, i knew it! all this sneaking around, and here you are, finally getting down on one knee — metaphorically, of course.”

you nudge gojo, laughing. “shut it, satoru.”

but toji doesn’t even hear gojo’s teasing anymore. all he sees is you, with that damn paper ring swinging from your phone, smiling at him in a way that makes his chest feel tight. 

and suddenly, the idea of getting down on one knee doesn’t seem all that far-fetched after all.

“so… this weekend?” he asks, his voice a little softer now, just for you.

you nod, still beaming. “this weekend,” you confirm.

toji, scrolling through your message with a slight frown, reads your rain check about having to edit your book draft instead of going out this weekend. 

he's in the middle of what can only be called a hurricane of preparation — megumi is zipping around the house, declaring he’ll help his dad look “very handsome” for his “playdate with the pretty lady.” in the midst of this, toji can’t even get a word in to explain that, uh, the plans may be changing.

princess [7:08 pm]: hey! i am SO sorry, but i may have to rain check today. i really thought i’d finish up the first draft of the dragon king’s sequel. but i got so behind, and now i have to edit this whole thing </3 you [7:09 pm]: can’t believe my competition is a bunch of words on a page, but…i get it.  you [7:09 pm]: any chance you could still use some company for that “editing?”

he’s barely finished typing his message when megumi tugs at his shirt, holding up a navy button-down that practically drags on the floor.

“isn’t this the one she likes, dad? wear this!” he says with a look that might as well be called “fushiguro persuasion.” toji chuckles, ruffling megumi’s hair.

“hey, buddy,” he says, crouching down to megumi’s level. “plans changed a little. she’s gotta work, so i’m going over there instead, alright?”

megumi narrows his eyes in the way only an eight-year-old can. “so... no fancy date?”

“nah, kid,” toji says, trying to sound casual as he rolls up his sleeves. “i’m just gonna keep her company while she works.”

megumi grins, a mischievous glint in his eye. “so like, a home date?” he asks, with all the implications an eight-year-old can muster.

toji chuckles, ruffling his son’s hair. “something like that.” he gives megumi a quick fist bump. “hold down the fort for me, alright? i’ll be back before bedtime.”

and with that, he heads out, his heart pounding just a little too fast for his own liking. he’s ready to face you with a low-key offer: if you’ll allow it, he’ll stay in for a “working date” and keep you company, just the two of you, with no plans other than being there.

toji ^.^ [7:15 pm]: well, what if the mountain comes to you instead of you coming to the mountain? i’ll bring snacks and stay out of your way. i’ll even help you proofread if you need it.

your heart nearly stops when you see toji’s message, and you almost drop your phone… straight into your bowl of instant noodles. 

he wants to come over? to your place? 

you glance around your apartment, and it’s a scene straight out of a disaster movie.

there’s a pile of bills stacked haphazardly on the coffee table, all of which you’re waiting for shoko to graciously come sort through for you. right next to it is a mountain of pr packages you haven’t had a chance to open — typewriters from some luxury brand, fountain pens with gold-tipped nibs, notebooks wrapped in satin, and… is that your favorite set of lingerie drying on top of the lampshade?

“oh, god.”

you glance at the time and frantically calculate: how long would it take to clear at least half of this mess? 

no, scratch that. how long would it take to get yourself presentable? you rush to your room, tossing things left and right in an attempt to find something clean and comfortable, feeling your face heat up just imagining toji seeing your place like this.

you [7:17 pm]: are you sure you wanna come over? i’m warning you. it’s, uh, very lived-in here. toji ^.^ [7:20 pm]: hey, i’m not gonna judge. besides, how bad can it be?

you stare at his reply, chewing on your lip, and quickly text back.

you [7:21 pm]: imagine a tornado hit a bookstore you [7:21 pm]: and a clothing store you [7:21 pm]: and, maybe a warehouse full of typewriters and fountain pens. toji ^.^ [7:23 pm]: you know what? sounds cozy. i’ll bring some snacks and maybe a cleaning crew if necessary 😂

the doorbell rings before you could even realise, and your heart nearly leaps out of your chest. 

you’ve got a solid three seconds to take it all in: you’re wearing a three-day-old shirt that, if you recall correctly, was originally your dad’s from the 80s, your hair’s in a bun so messy it might as well be a bird’s nest, and there are bags of trash you’ve hastily crammed into every drawer within reach.

there’s no hiding the pile of unopened pr packages by the couch, though — one of which has a half-torn label boasting a “vintage, limited-edition typewriter experience.” right next to that, there’s a fancy pen set, still in its plastic wrap, resting on top of… is that a stack of half-eaten takeout containers? 

oh, god. why couldn’t you have had a warning before he showed up?

you take a shaky breath and yank the door open, plastering a smile on your face as if this is all completely normal.

"hey," toji says, looking you up and down with an easy grin. “lookin’ cozy.”

“uh... thanks?” you blurt out, mentally slapping yourself. cozy was definitely one way to put it. 

“come on in. sorry about the… ambiance. i wasn’t really expecting to have a, uh, guest.”

you step back, and he strides in, immediately taking in the organized chaos that is your apartment. his eyes linger on the tower of pr boxes and that unmistakable stack of overdue bills. he whistles low under his breath, clearly trying not to laugh.

"so, this is the writer life, huh?" he asks, picking up a typewriter package with a raised eyebrow. "fancy stuff. do you, uh… actually use any of this?”

“i try,” you mumble, crossing your arms defensively, though you can’t help smiling. “but the whole ‘starving artist’ vibe means these typewriters just end up as very expensive paperweights. which, ironically, i can’t even afford.”

toji laughs, setting the box down before glancing around again. his gaze falls on the lampshade, where your black lace lingerie is very prominently draped. you feel your face go hot as he smirks.

“i like the decor,” he says, nodding toward the lingerie with a wicked grin.

“oh, my god,” you groan, covering your face. “listen, i was not expecting company today, so please, feel free to avert your eyes.”

"nah, i think it's got… character," he teases, leaning in just a little too close. “besides, i don’t mind a little mess.”

"well, great, because this is as real as it gets," you reply, huffing as you try to look anywhere but at him. "you’re in the trenches now, toji.”

he chuckles, moving to pick up a crumpled, half-empty bag of chips from the couch. "hey, trenches i can handle. i’ve got an eight-year-old at home, remember? my place is an organized war zone on a good day."

you snort, still feeling a bit mortified. “and here i was thinking i could at least fake having my life together in front of you.”

“oh, please,” he says, brushing a stray hair from your cheek. “you should’ve seen me back in college. this? this is nothing. plus,” he adds, his voice dropping slightly, “it’s kind of… cute.”

cute. did he actually just call your disaster zone cute?

before you can respond, he grabs one of the unopened PR boxes and raises an eyebrow. “so, what’s in this one? wanna have an impromptu unboxing?”

“toji, i swear if you open that —”

“c’mon,” he says, grinning as he peels the tape back. “think of it as the highlight of our first ‘official’ homebody date.”

you shake your head, both amused and exasperated, watching him fish out an overly ornate fountain pen, which he holds up like it’s the holy grail.

“look at this thing,” he says, turning it over with a smirk. “you could probably sign million-dollar deals with this alone.”

“or, you know, sign off on all my overdue bills.” you laugh, unable to stay embarrassed. “go on, add it to the pile. it’s practically a landfill at this point.”

he laughs, setting the pen down and stepping closer, his voice low. “listen, i get it. my place might not have bills stacked up, but it’s full of… reminders that i’m a work in progress too.”

you glance up at him, and suddenly, all the embarrassment melts away. you’re in your messy apartment, standing in an ancient t-shirt with this man who’s managed to turn your chaotic night into something unexpectedly comforting.

"thanks for not… judging," you say softly, feeling yourself relax for the first time since he walked in. “i know i’m not exactly put together, but —”

“hey.” he cups your face with a gentle smile. “don’t worry about it. you’re perfect like this. messy, comfy, real.”

before you can stop yourself, you lean in, and he meets you halfway, his lips brushing softly against yours. it’s not hurried, not desperate. just… perfect.

it hits you about a second too late — you’re kissing toji in the middle of your apartment, clutching a bag of trash. oh god, and it reeks of stale mountain dew and monster. 

classy.

you pull back with a mortified look, though toji’s face is the exact opposite, his smirk spreading like he’s just unlocked a secret treasure.

“don’t stop now,” he murmurs, glancing down at the offending trash bag in your hand. “but, uh… maybe lose that first?”

“yeah, i think we’re past the first-date mystique at this point,” you mutter, feeling your face heat up as you chuck the bag towards the corner, praying it’s out of sight enough to ignore.

“oh, yeah, you’re really blowing my mind here,” he teases, chuckling as he takes in the apartment around you. “all the caffeine fumes, that questionable takeout smell. smells like home already.”

“oh, shut up,” you laugh, covering your face, because this man is about two seconds from making you combust. “i’m surprised you even wanted to stay for dinner after walking into this disaster.”

“well,” he says, trying and failing to look innocent, “you haven’t seen the other disaster i brought.”

you raise an eyebrow as he gestures to the counter, where multiple takeout bags are somehow all stacked up.

“toji, what is all this?” you blink, shuffling over to the spread.

“look,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “i couldn’t decide what you’d like, so i just… went with options.”

options is a gross understatement. 

there’s a bag from the local thai place with an array of curries and pad see ew, another filled with boxes of sushi, and an entire tray of tacos, complete with mini bottles of hot sauce. you spot a large pizza box (of course), and is that… baklava?

“uh, toji? are we feeding a small country tonight?” you laugh, bewildered. “what were you thinking?”

“honestly? wasn’t thinking. just grabbed whatever looked good,” he says, giving you a sheepish grin. “but c’mon, if you don’t like one thing, there’s a million others.”

you give him a look, half-amused, half-exasperated, but it’s endearing in a way only toji could pull off. who even does this?

“i mean, don’t get me wrong,” you say, nudging a pizza box to make space for the taco tray, “i’m glad you thought of all the options, but… what exactly were you planning for us to do with all this?”

he shrugs, coming up beside you to open one of the sushi boxes. “eat as much as we want, throw the rest in the fridge. ‘course, that’s only if you’re not gonna make me eat it all myself.”

you snort, imagining him single-handedly tackling all of it. “if you can handle it, be my guest.”

he leans in close, voice dropping to a rough whisper. “oh, i can handle it.”

you roll your eyes, but you’re grinning like an idiot. “god, you’re impossible.”

“hey, you invited me over,” he says, opening a little container of wasabi and gesturing for you to try a piece of sushi. 

“besides, i figured it’s a good way to cover all bases. what if you didn’t like tacos? or pizza? or… god forbid, baklava?”

you can’t help laughing as you pop the sushi in your mouth, appreciating the deliciously over-the-top effort he put into this. “for the record, i love all of it. but you, on the other hand, have a questionable appetite if you thought this much food for two people was necessary.”

“trust me, if this is what it takes to keep you happy, i’ll bring twice as much next time,” he says, dead serious.

“oh no, please, i don’t think i can handle that.” you give him a look, incredulous. “i’ll end up eating myself into a food coma, and then what? you gonna carry me to bed?”

“well,” he says, leaning in again with a devilish grin, “i wouldn’t mind. but i was thinkin’ more along the lines of a movie marathon to work off the calories.”

“movie marathon and food coma?” you raise an eyebrow. “toji, you’re dangerously close to making this a slumber party.”

he shrugs, his face playful but there’s something softer in his eyes. “would that be the worst thing?”

you feel a flutter in your chest, something that almost surprises you with how much it settles you. here he is, surrounded by mountains of takeout and your chaotic apartment mess, looking like this is exactly where he wants to be. 

it’s… kinda nice.

“alright,” you say, nudging him with your elbow. “you win. let’s have the weirdest, most food-filled homebody date ever. just, uh, ignore the mess. and don’t laugh at me if i pass out halfway through a movie.”

“promise.” he raises a hand, eyes glinting with humor. “cross my heart.”

the two of you start to dig in, laughing as you make jokes about how this is probably the strangest spread of food you’ve ever seen. every now and then, he’ll steal a quick kiss when he thinks he can get away with it, and you’re reminded just how much this man has wormed his way under your skin.

you’ve got no idea where this is going, but, staring at his smirk as he attempts to down an entire taco in one bite, you kinda hope it’s somewhere good.

the two of you stand side by side at the sink, the remnants of your feast sprawled across the counter. you’re scrubbing a particularly stubborn pan when you decide it’s the perfect time to hand toji the aux.

“alright, mister fancy chef,” you say, smirking as you pass him your phone. “you get to choose the soundtrack for our post-dinner clean-up. no pressure.”

“oh, no pressure at all,” he deadpans, scrolling through your playlist. you catch a glimpse of the mischievous grin creeping onto his face as he lands on an old favorite.

the unmistakable intro of dancing queen by abba fills the kitchen, and your mouth drops open in disbelief. 

“seriously? this? right now?” you laugh, a mix of amusement and embarrassment bubbling inside you.

“hey, don’t knock it till you try it!” he shoots back, raising his hands as if to defend his choice. “it’s a classic. plus, it takes me back to that night at the bar when you were all... well, you.”

you roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile that creeps onto your face. “i was a mess.”

“yeah, but you were a cute mess.” he chuckles, and you feel the heat rise in your cheeks at the compliment.

as the upbeat tune plays on, you both start washing the dishes, swaying your hips to the rhythm. 

“you can dance, you can jive…” the lyrics echo through the air, and toji’s energy pulls you in. 

you catch him glancing at you with that smirk again, and the way his eyes light up makes your stomach flutter.

“just imagine,” he says, a teasing glint in his eye, “the two of us back at that bar. you, all over the place, and me just trying to figure out how to survive the night.”

you laugh, feeling nostalgic. “yeah, and then i somehow managed to puke all over your shoes.”

“my favorite shoes,” he says dramatically, rolling his eyes, but there’s a playful warmth in his tone. “but, honestly? worth it.”

the song builds, and you’re both lost in the moment, laughter and soap suds flying everywhere.

“see that girl, watch that scene…”

“how did we go from that night to this?” you ponder aloud, glancing at him. “i mean, here we are, washing dishes and dancing to abba.”

“it’s an upgrade he says, giving you a lopsided grin. “you know, from drunken disasters to… kitchen romance.”

“romance?” you raise an eyebrow, challenging him.

“oh, come on,” he says, stepping closer, the teasing slipping away from his tone. “there’s definitely something romantic about this. a pair of idiots like us, sharing this weird, beautiful mess.”

you can’t help but blush, your heart racing as you take in the way his gaze lingers on your lips. “digging the dancing queen…”

“you know, if this song gets stuck in my head, i’m blaming you,” you quip, trying to deflect the intensity of the moment.

“good luck with that,” he chuckles, moving even closer, the space between you almost nonexistent now. 

“night is young and the music’s high…”

his fingers brush against yours, the innocent touch sending sparks up your arm. the beat continues, your breaths getting heavier as the song builds up to the chorus. 

“dancing queen, feel the beat of the tambourine…”

you’re both staring at each other, and suddenly, the kitchen feels too small, too charged with the electricity of the moment.

“toji…” you start, but the words die on your lips as he leans in, his intent clear.

“just one kiss,” he murmurs, the corner of his mouth lifting in a seductive smile. “for old time’s sake.”

before you can reply, he closes the gap, his lips capturing yours with a gentle yet insistent pressure. 

it’s like a scene from a movie — the soft warmth of his mouth against yours, the playful scent of the takeout wafting around you, the soft glow of the kitchen light illuminating his features.

you melt into him, heart racing as you kiss him back, losing yourself in the moment. the lyrics of the song seem to fade into the background, leaving just the two of you — the world outside disappearing entirely. 

when you finally pull away, both of you breathless, there’s a glint of something deeper in his eyes. 

“wow,” he breathes, still holding your gaze. “i think i like this new tradition.”

you chuckle, still buzzing from the kiss. “yeah, who knew washing dishes could be so… eventful?”

“well,” he says, leaning in closer again, voice low and teasing, “we haven’t even finished the song yet. you ready for round two?”

you’re half-dazed, your heart racing as you sit on the kitchen counter, toji’s arms caging you in, keeping you close. dancing queen continues to play in the background, but all you can focus on is the warmth radiating from him and the way his breath mingles with yours.

“you have got to stop making these kisses a regular thing,” you tease, half-heartedly trying to sound serious, but the playful glint in your eyes gives you away.

“especially when i’m propped up on my kitchen counter like this,” you add, trying to maintain some semblance of decorum, but you can’t help but smile as you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in closer.

“liar,” he laughs, a low rumble that sends a thrill through you. “if you didn’t like it, you would have pushed me away, not this.” he gestures to your legs around him, grinning like the cat that got the cream.

you roll your eyes, but you can’t hide the warmth spreading through your cheeks. “okay, fine. maybe i’m a little into it,” you admit, and his grin widens, satisfaction dancing in his eyes.

“a little?” he echoes, raising an eyebrow, his hands tightening around your waist. “you’re a whole lot more than a little, and you know it.”

the cheeky banter flows easily between you, and as you gaze into his eyes, you realize just how much you’ve come to enjoy this — the closeness, the warmth, the undeniable chemistry crackling in the air.

“you know, it’s a bit unfair,” you say, tilting your head back slightly to meet his gaze. “here i’m trying to be responsible and not let you distract me, and yet…” you trail off, your fingers playing with the collar of his shirt.

“and yet,” he finishes, leaning in slightly, his breath warm against your skin. “here i am, being irresistible.”

“definitely not irresistible,” you say, feigning indignation. but the way your heart races gives you away again.

“oh, come on,” he smirks, tilting his head slightly. “who else do you know can kiss you while washing dishes?”

you laugh, shaking your head, and the movement sends a wave of giddiness through both of you. “you might be right about that one,” you concede, biting your lip.

the song transitions into another upbeat section, and toji shifts his weight slightly, nudging your legs apart just enough to step closer, creating a tighter cocoon of warmth between you. 

“so, what now?” he asks, his voice dropping an octave, the playful tone replaced with something more serious, more intimate.

“what now?” you echo, feeling the tension shift slightly, the air thick with possibilities. “we could, um… finish washing dishes?”

“how boring,” he murmurs, and before you can say anything else, he dips his head down, capturing your lips again in a slow, lingering kiss that makes your head spin.

this kiss is different — softer, more explorative, as if he’s savoring the moment, the taste of you lingering on his lips. you respond eagerly, forgetting all about the dishes, the mess, everything else fading away until it’s just the two of you.

when you finally break apart, breathless, he grins down at you, that charming smirk making your heart flutter. “that’s what i’m talking about,” he says, a satisfied gleam in his eyes.

“toji, we really should —”

“don’t say it,” he interrupts, shaking his head with an exaggerated look of horror. 

“don’t ruin the moment with responsibility. just… let’s enjoy this.”

you can’t help but laugh again, the tension between you easing as you lean back against the countertop, your heart racing in a way that feels undeniably good.

“enjoying this, huh?” you murmur, running your fingers through your hair, still feeling the heat of his body against yours.

“yeah,” he replies, that charming smile still plastered on his face. “just two people enjoying a perfectly normal evening — you know, singing abba, eating takeout, and making out in your messy kitchen.”

“the most normal thing ever,” you agree, rolling your eyes, but you can’t suppress the smile that breaks across your face.

“so,” he says, tilting his head, his expression turning slightly more serious. “how about we make this a regular thing? you know, minus the messy kitchen. maybe my place next time?”

your heart skips a beat at the suggestion, and you find yourself nodding before you can think twice. “yeah, i’d like that.”

“great,” he says, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “but for now, let’s get back to the dishes, dancing queen.”

“fine, but only if you promise to keep playing abba,” you reply, giving him a mock-serious look.

“deal,” he chuckles, and as you both start scrubbing the remaining dishes, the music playing softly in the background, you realize you wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.

toji walks into his house, the dopey grin plastered across his face like he just won the lottery. 

his heart feels light, still buzzing from the night with you, and he’s practically floating as he kicks off his shoes and heads to the living room. 

he stops dead in his tracks when he sees gojo sprawled on the couch, a half-empty bottle of whiskey in one hand and a look of sheer mischief on his face.

“what the hell are you doing here?” toji asks, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably as he can’t help but grin back.

gojo lifts the bottle in a mock toast. “just your friendly neighborhood babysitter, here to keep an eye on megumi,” he says, glancing over to where megumi is sound asleep, sprawled on the floor with a gaming console still clutched in his tiny hands. “figured i’d check out your bar situation while i was at it.” he gestures to the empty bottles lined up on the table. “you know, for quality control.”

toji rolls his eyes but can’t suppress the chuckle escaping his lips. “you’re a real piece of work, you know that?” he says, moving closer.

gojo leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, a grin spreading across his face as he studies toji’s expression. “but seriously, you look like you just got off cloud nine. spill. what happened?”

toji’s grin widens even more, and he can’t help but let out a little giggle, feeling giddy. “you’re not gonna believe this,” he starts, plopping down on the couch next to gojo, who leans in closer, eager for the details. 

“it was… well, it was amazing.”

“amazing? now you’re really making me curious!” gojo presses, his eyes sparkling with interest. “tell me everything! every little detail!”

toji glances back towards the sleeping megumi, suddenly feeling a bit shy about sharing all the intimate details. “okay, okay. so, we were just supposed to have dinner, but it turned into this whole thing.”

“dinner? boooring. give me the juicy stuff!” gojo teases, waving his hand dramatically. “i want the scandalous details! were there kisses involved?”

toji feels his cheeks flush, and he can’t help but laugh at how ridiculous this all feels. “yeah, there were some kisses… and then we ended up washing dishes together, and somehow —”

“washing dishes? how romantic!” gojo interrupts, dramatically placing a hand on his chest as if he’s been mortally wounded. “you’re a true romantic, toji.”

“shut up!” toji retorts, laughing harder now. “but it was nice, okay? we were just… comfortable with each other, you know? and then we ended up kissing while the song was playing.”

“which song? was it a love song? was it dancing queen?” gojo leans in closer, eyes wide with excitement. “tell me you two were blasting abba and getting all lovey-dovey!”

“yeah, actually!” toji can’t help but laugh again, the memory flooding back. “we were. it was so ridiculous, but it felt so right at that moment.”

“ridiculous how?” gojo presses, leaning back with a smirk. “were you two dancing around the kitchen like a couple of high-schoolers?”

“pretty much,” toji admits, a sheepish grin crossing his face. “i mean, it just happened, and i couldn’t help myself. i’ve never felt like this before.”

gojo raises an eyebrow, leaning back with a knowing smirk. “so, what you’re saying is that you’re head over heels for y/n? you’ve gone soft on us, toji.”

“yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” toji says, trying to sound annoyed but failing as he can’t help but feel giddy about it all. “but i think this is different. she makes me feel… i don’t know, like i’m actually living instead of just existing?”

gojo’s expression softens slightly, nodding in understanding. “that’s deep, man. i’m genuinely happy for you. but seriously, how did you go from makeouts to dinner to feelings so fast?”

“honestly? i have no idea,” toji shrugs, still riding that high. “but it just felt natural. like we were meant to do this.”

gojo is quiet for a moment, taking a swig from the bottle. 

“damn, it sounds like you really like her.”

“like? it’s more than that, i think,” toji admits, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “i’ve never let myself feel this way about anyone, and now i can’t stop smiling like an idiot.”

“good. you should let yourself feel,” gojo says, his tone lightening again. 

“just don’t forget you’re still my bro and not some mushy romantic lead in a romcom.”

toji snorts. “right, because i’m so good at playing it cool.”

“exactly,” gojo grins. “now, what’s the next step in this romance novel? are you going to take her out on an official date, or are you just going to keep sneaking kisses in her kitchen?”

toji thinks for a moment, that dopey grin returning. 

“i want to take her out. something special. not just a random dinner but a real date.”

“awww, look at you being all suave!” gojo teases, clapping him on the shoulder. “i’m actually proud of you, man. just don’t screw it up.”

“thanks for the vote of confidence,” toji rolls his eyes but can’t help but feel encouraged.

“now, let’s celebrate your new relationship status! i say we finish off the rest of these bottles and toast to your love life!” gojo suggests, already grabbing for another bottle.

toji chuckles, shaking his head. “you’re going to end up getting us both in trouble, you know that?”

“who cares? tonight’s all about you, my guy! let’s make some bad decisions!” gojo grins, and as toji laughs, the two of them settle in for a night of ridiculous stories and plans for the future — the dopey grin still plastered on toji’s face.

the day of the audiobook launch dawned bright and buzzing with excitement at gojo-sonic, and the atmosphere was electric. employees and investors milled about the sleek, modern venue, the air filled with chatter and the faint sound of clinking glasses. 

it was a low-key affair, but the anticipation crackled like static electricity in the air. you were among the few chosen to celebrate this moment, standing on the cusp of something big.

you had spent hours getting ready, and with shoko’s help, you looked stunning in your gown. it was a flowing number that hugged your curves just right, accentuating your figure while allowing you to move with grace. your hair was styled in soft waves, framing your face perfectly, and your makeup enhanced your features without overshadowing them. you caught glimpses of yourself in the reflective surfaces, a wave of pride swelling in your chest as you realized just how much effort went into this moment.

toji, on the other hand, was a mix of nervous energy and utter admiration. dressed sharply in a tailored suit, he felt a blend of pride and anxiety as he watched you mingle with the guests. but the moment his eyes landed on you in that gown, his body betrayed him. 

a rush of heat shot through him, and before he could even think, there it was — a very real, very embarrassing hard-on that he scrambled to cover up.

“shit, not now,” he muttered under his breath, cursing himself for being such a damn cliché. he quickly shifted his stance, pretending to adjust his tie as he tried to focus on anything other than the vision of you in front of him. 

like a decent man should, right?

“toji! you okay?” gojo’s voice cut through his thoughts, a smirk creeping across his face. he was leaning against the bar, a glass of something strong in hand, eyeing toji with amusement. “you look like you just saw a ghost.”

“i’m fine,” toji snapped a little too quickly, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. “just… adjusting my suit.” he gestured wildly, trying to deflect the attention away from his embarrassment.

“uh-huh. sure,” gojo replied, barely hiding his laughter. “just keep it together. we wouldn’t want you to embarrass yourself in front of everyone, especially her.” he nodded subtly towards you, who were now laughing with suguru, your charm radiating like a warm glow.

toji shot him a glare, a mix of irritation and amusement battling for dominance on his face. “thanks for the reminder, genius.”

the event continued, and you were seamlessly blending into the crowd, engaging in conversations with stakeholders and employees, your confidence shining through. 

when you shared a laugh with suguru, toji couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy at how effortlessly charming you were. why the hell can’t i just say something nice instead of standing here like an idiot?

“there she is,” toji mumbled to himself, catching a glimpse of you as you made your way to the makeshift stage for the speeches. he admired how you carried yourself with such poise, the way your eyes sparkled with excitement. and in that moment, he was utterly captivated.

as you stepped up to the microphone, a hush fell over the crowd. 

“thank you all for being here today,” you began, your voice steady and clear, filled with warmth. “this launch means so much to me, and i couldn’t have done it without all the support from my friends and family. especially from those at gojo-sonic, who believed in this project.”

toji watched you intently, his heart swelling with pride. this was your moment, and you were absolutely shining. 

but as you spoke, he felt that familiar urge to approach you, to wrap his arms around you and tell you just how incredible you looked. 

but no, he stood rooted to the spot, reminding himself of the conversation they had before about maintaining a professional facade.

“and of course, a huge thank you to my amazing voice actor, toji fushiguro,” you continued, and the crowd erupted into applause, pulling him back into reality. the sound sent another rush of heat through him, and he felt like he was about to explode — both from embarrassment and pride.

“that’s me,” toji muttered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. gojo was right beside him, clapping exaggeratedly with a teasing grin. “you’re gonna have to give her a proper compliment after this, you know?”

“yeah, yeah,” toji grumbled, still flustered as he tried to focus on your words instead of his growing embarrassment.

when you finished your speech, the crowd cheered, and you stepped down, a satisfied smile on your face. 

you caught toji’s eye, and for a moment, the world faded away. he could see the joy radiating from you, and all his earlier doubts slipped away.

“toji!” you called out, your eyes sparkling. “what did you think?”

“you were amazing,” he said, finally finding the courage to step forward. “really. you owned that stage.”

“thank you,” you replied, your cheeks slightly flushed. “i was nervous, but it felt good to share this moment with everyone.”

as you spoke, toji’s heart raced. he leaned in closer, his voice lowering as he added, “and you looked absolutely stunning, too.”

“oh? just stunning?” you teased, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

“okay, maybe breathtaking,” he admitted, a genuine smile creeping onto his face. 

“and just so you know, i had a minor… situation back there, thanks to how beautiful you looked. so, you know, just keep that in mind.”

your laughter rang out, the sound warm and inviting, making toji forget all about the earlier embarrassment. he realized that whatever the two of you had going on was something he wanted to cherish, something worth pursuing.

and as the night continued, surrounded by the buzz of celebration, toji felt a sense of hope blooming in his chest — this was just the beginning.

as the excitement of the launch continued to swirl around you, suguru approached, a wide smile lighting up his face. 

“there you are! i was beginning to think i’d have to drag you out from behind that mic,” he teased, wrapping you in a warm hug.

“suguru! thanks for coming!” you beamed, feeling the familiar comfort of his presence. “it means a lot to me.”

“wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he said, stepping back to take a look at you. “and wow, you look incredible. seriously, how do you pull off that look?”

gojo chimed in, practically bouncing on his heels. “it’s like she stepped out of a freaking fairytale, right? she’s basically a model now. i’m just a guy over here trying not to ruin the vibe.”

shoko smiled, her eyes soft as she observed the camaraderie. “you all did great tonight. it really was a wonderful launch.”

toji stood slightly apart from the group, hands shoved into his pockets, watching the dynamic unfold. he was proud of you and knew you deserved this moment, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of being on the outside. seeing you laugh and joke with suguru and gojo tugged at something deep inside him, a mix of admiration and protectiveness that made him feel a little more possessive than he expected.

“so, what’s next for you?” suguru asked, leaning in closer, his tone genuine. “another book, or are you taking a break?”

“a bit of both, actually,” you replied, glancing at toji. “i want to explore some new ideas, maybe branch out a little.”

just then, a lecherous-looking man stepped into the conversation, an air of arrogance radiating off him. 

“well, if it isn’t the famed author herself,” he sneered, a condescending smirk plastered on his face. “i have to say, it’s impressive how you’ve managed to carve out such a niche for yourself.” “free-use woman, is that what they call it? quite the career choice, huh?”

the moment the words left his mouth, the atmosphere shifted. toji's heart raced, a cold wave of irritation washing over him. he could feel his jaw clenching as he shifted his weight, bracing himself for whatever would come next. 

the man had no idea what he was stepping into.

gojo’s expression darkened, his casual demeanor evaporating. “who the hell do you think you are, talking to her like that?” he snapped, stepping in front of you protectively. “you’re clearly out of your depth.”

shoko frowned, her eyes narrowing at the man. “that’s incredibly disrespectful. you should apologize right now.”

suguru, leaning closer to you, was already assessing the situation, his gaze piercing. “it’s brave of you to come here and talk to her, but if you think you can just waltz in and make those kinds of comments, you’re sorely mistaken.”

toji felt a surge of possessiveness overtake him, and he stepped forward, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “listen, buddy, you don’t get to come here and treat her like she’s some sort of object. she’s worked hard for everything she has, and you’re just jealous that you’ll never get anywhere close to her level.”

the man scoffed, clearly unfazed, but the looks on the faces of gojo, shoko, and suguru sent a wave of intimidation over him. “oh, what? you’re one of her little fanboys now?” he mocked, trying to play off the tension.

“she’s not just some girl for your amusement,” toji replied, his voice low but full of intensity. “if you can’t see that, then you don’t deserve to be in the same room as her.”

you were taken aback, a mix of shock and warmth flooding your chest at toji’s fierce defense. it was a side of him you hadn’t seen in this context, and it made your heart race. you quickly interjected, trying to defuse the situation. 

“it’s okay, really. i don’t mind —”

“no,” suguru cut you off gently but firmly, glancing back at you with concern. “you shouldn’t have to put up with that kind of trash talk. you’re better than that, and we’re here for you.”

“yeah,” gojo added, his expression serious. “this guy doesn’t know who he’s messing with. just because you think you can get away with it doesn’t mean you should.” he turned to the man, a fire burning in his blue eyes. 

“i’d suggest you leave before things get ugly.”

the man’s bravado faltered, and he hesitated, clearly weighing his options. 

“whatever, man,” he spat, finally backing away, a look of disdain on his face. “i didn’t want to talk to you losers anyway.”

as he walked off, toji felt a wave of relief wash over him, but it was mingled with something else — something like pride for you and his friends, who had stood up for what was right. 

he turned to you, catching your eye. “you alright?”

you nodded, still processing what just happened. “yeah, thanks. i didn’t think he’d go that far.”

“he’s a fucking idiot,” toji replied, shaking his head. “you deserve better than that.”

“you all really stood up for me,” you said softly, feeling gratitude swell in your chest.

“of course we did,” shoko replied, her expression warm. “we’re your friends, and we’ll always have your back.”

toji stepped a bit closer, and for a moment, the noise of the event faded into the background. “just remember that,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “you’re not alone in this.”

and as the night continued, surrounded by friends who cared deeply for you, toji felt a sense of belonging that he hadn’t anticipated, realizing just how much he wanted to protect that warmth — protect you.

the event wrapped up smoothly, but leave it to gojo to suggest a “girls day out” to celebrate – the “girls” in question, of course, were all of you.

“come on!” gojo insisted, practically bouncing as you all filed out of the venue. “a little lunch at this fancy new place! i already reserved us a table. trust me, you’ll love it.” he flashed that signature grin, one that sparkled with both charm and mischief.

“i thought you called this a girl’s day out?” toji raised an eyebrow, looking mildly exasperated. “you’re delusional if you think i’m your girl, gojo.”

gojo only smirked, looping his arm through toji’s despite his attempts to shake him off. 

“toji, honey, everyone’s my girl,” he teased. “besides, i knew you’d say yes deep down.”

“keep telling yourself that,” toji muttered, though a small smirk betrayed his amusement.

suguru shook his head, amused, as he watched their dynamic. “sometimes i think we enable him too much.”

“you definitely do,” shoko chimed in, already lighting a cigarette as you walked along. “but at least lunch on gojo’s tab makes it worth it.”

soon enough, the five of you strolled into the swanky restaurant, where the hostess greeted gojo with a wide smile. “right this way, mr. gojo,” she said, leading you all to a secluded table with an impressive view.

gojo waited until you all took your seats before he threw himself down, stretching out like he owned the place. “order whatever you want, my treat!” he announced, flashing a grin at the menu. “the foie gras here is to die for.”

“you’re ordering foie gras?” you raised an eyebrow, half-amused and half-horrified.

gojo shrugged, feigning innocence. “what? it’s delicious.” he turned to toji. “you’re in, right?”

toji gave him a dry look. “i don’t even know what that is, gojo.”

suguru snorted into his drink. “you’re so cultured, toji.”

toji rolled his eyes, shoving a breadstick into his mouth with exaggerated indifference. “as long as it’s not something gojo personally cooked, i’ll eat it.”

gojo gasped dramatically, clutching his heart. “you wound me! i make a mean ramen!”

shoko raised an eyebrow at him. “instant ramen doesn’t count, gojo.”

as you skimmed the menu, suguru leaned over to point out some of the more “normal” dishes. 

“i’d stick to these if i were you,” he chuckled. “unless you’re ready for gojo’s idea of exotic.”

“good call,” you replied, grinning. “i’m not trying to eat anything that still has a face.”

just then, gojo noticed a seafood platter being served at a nearby table, and his eyes lit up. “oh, look at that! who’s in for oysters? fresh from the coast, or so they say.”

toji grimaced, pushing the menu away. “you’re kidding, right? i don’t eat anything slimy.”

gojo wagged his finger at him, smirking. “toji, you’ll never know the finer things in life with an attitude like that.”

“if the finer things in life involve slimy food, count me out,” toji retorted, crossing his arms.

you couldn’t help but laugh, catching suguru’s eye. he shook his head, a faint smile on his lips. 

“some things never change, huh?”

“yeah, especially gojo’s tastes,” shoko muttered, taking a sip of her drink.

as the food finally arrived, the table was soon filled with laughter and stories, everyone swapping tales about work, life, and everything in between. gojo, unsurprisingly, dominated the conversation, though he was more than happy to playfully drag each of you into his stories.

“and then, get this,” gojo laughed, his shoulders shaking. “i convinced the poor guy i was a psychic! he walked around with a ‘cursed’ amulet for a week before he realized i was just messing with him.”

“i don’t understand how anyone falls for your crap,” toji said, shaking his head, though even he was hiding a smile.

“it’s a gift,” gojo replied smugly, before winking at you. “isn’t that right?”

“oh, definitely,” you replied dryly. “a gift and a curse.”

“mostly a curse,” shoko agreed, patting gojo’s shoulder.

after a few rounds of drinks, everyone had relaxed into the easy camaraderie, passing dishes and laughing as gojo continued his dramatic retellings, complete with hand gestures and questionable impressions.

“so, toji,” gojo leaned over with a sly grin, “how’s… life?”

toji eyed him, wary. “life’s fine, gojo. what are you getting at?”

“nothing!” gojo held up his hands innocently. “just curious about your… extracurriculars.”

toji rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath as shoko smirked, clearly entertained by toji’s suffering.

suguru leaned in, murmuring to you, “you think he’ll make it through the whole lunch without snapping?”

you laughed softly. “he’s holding up pretty well, all things considered.”

as dessert rolled around, gojo ordered a massive platter of sweets “for the table,” though everyone knew he’d end up eating half of it himself.

“i swear, if you finish all those eclairs before i even get one…” toji warned, eyeing gojo.

gojo winked, already reaching for a plate. “too slow, toji! if you want something, you’ve got to seize it.”

“yeah? you wanna see me seize it?” toji reached over, snatching an éclair from gojo’s hand in one swift move.

the entire table burst out laughing, gojo’s indignant look only adding to the humor. it was one of those rare moments where everything felt right, like you were all in sync, just enjoying each other’s company.

as you leaned back in your chair, watching everyone banter, you felt a warmth settle in your chest. these were the kinds of moments you’d remember – the laughter, the shared jokes, the way each person’s personality filled the room in a way only they could.

it was a good day. 

and somehow, you had gojo’s “girls day out” to thank for it.

“suguru! where are you going?” gojo called, laughing.

suguru gave a halfhearted smile. “just… need to take this.”

you watched him go, a flicker of concern starting to build when minutes passed with no sign of his return. eventually, you excused yourself, hoping everything was alright.

turning the corner, you found him leaning against the wall, head down, shoulders tense and shaking slightly. the quiet sound of his breath catching, his barely-contained sobs – it was like a punch to the chest. 

suguru geto never cried.

“suguru?” you whispered, not wanting to startle him.

he looked up, his face streaked with tears, a raw, vulnerable expression you’d never seen. he quickly tried to brush it off, rubbing his eyes. “you shouldn’t… see me like this,” he muttered.

your heart clenched as you stepped closer. “hey, i’m your friend. you don’t have to hide from me.”

he looked away, swallowing hard, his voice strained. “it’s… her. she made her choice.” he took a ragged breath. “she doesn’t love me. she’s with someone else now.”

you felt your stomach twist at the pain in his voice, at the way his composure was unraveling before you. you reached out instinctively, placing a hand on his shoulder. “suguru, i’m so sorry. i know how much she meant to you.”

he let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. 

“i thought we had something real, you know? i thought… i thought she’d see me the same way.”

“you loved her,” you murmured, feeling his anguish like a weight pressing on your chest. “you gave her everything. sometimes people… they just don’t see what’s right in front of them.”

“maybe it’s me,” he choked, clenching his fists. “maybe i just wasn’t enough.”

you took his hand, giving it a firm squeeze. “don’t say that. you’re more than enough. she just… didn’t see it. it doesn’t mean you aren’t worth it.”

his face crumpled, and for a moment, he was silent, holding onto you like you were an anchor keeping him from sinking. 

“i feel so… empty,” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper.

“let it out, suguru,” you said gently, wrapping your arms around him. “you don’t have to carry this alone.”

he leaned into your embrace, taking deep, shuddering breaths as he tried to regain control. you rubbed soothing circles on his back, feeling each tremble, each heartbeat, sharing in the quiet vulnerability of the moment.

“i don’t know what i’d do without you right now,” he said, his voice barely audible.

“you don’t have to,” you replied softly. “i’m here. you’ll be okay, suguru. even if it takes time.”

as you comforted him, you didn’t notice that toji had also come looking for you. he’d been watching the hallway, glancing at his watch, wondering what was taking you so long. 

a knot of worry twisted in his stomach, his mind flashing back to the earlier incident – that sleazy man at the event who had tried to approach you.

what if something happened again?

when he turned the corner, the sight he found stopped him cold. 

you, hugging suguru, holding him so tightly, your hand stroking his hair as he buried his face into your shoulder.

a strange, hot flare of jealousy surged up in his chest. 

his jaw clenched as he stared at you, his fingers twitching with the urge to do… something. here was suguru, wrapped up in your arms, his pain visible and raw – but still.

 toji couldn’t help the spike of resentment. why did it have to be suguru you were comforting?

why couldn’t you hold onto him like that?

his fingers tightened around the edge of his jacket, his thoughts spiraling. he knew he had no right to feel this way, knew suguru was hurting – but the sight of you so intimately close, your gentle words he couldn’t quite hear, only made his jealousy deepen.

his eyes narrowed as he kept watching, trying to ignore the twinge of vulnerability he hadn’t expected. why did he care so much? he gritted his teeth. 

but when you finally looked up, catching sight of him, his expression was unreadable, masked beneath a carefully controlled look. there was a subtle stiffness to the way he held himself, and his gaze flickered briefly to suguru before settling back on you.

“toji…” you said softly, surprised to see him there.

he crossed his arms, giving a slight nod in suguru’s direction. “everything alright?”

“yeah,” you replied, glancing at suguru, who gave a faint nod, still wiping at his eyes. “just… a hard day.”

toji’s eyes softened slightly as he looked at you, though his expression remained guarded. “you’re a good friend,” he murmured, barely audible, though there was a hint of something deeper behind his words.

you offered him a small smile, sensing the underlying tension. “just doing what anyone would.”

toji’s gaze lingered on you a little longer, his jealousy ebbing slightly, though a part of him still ached to be the one you held so tightly, the one you’d stayed for so long just to comfort. 

but he pushed the feeling down, knowing that tonight, suguru needed you more.

suguru excused himself to rejoin the table, likely gravitating toward satoru, who knew more about his heartbreak than anyone else there. that left just you and toji standing in your little corner, tucked away from the bustling restaurant.

he was looking at you with that smirk of his, the kind that had you already feeling flustered, but determined not to give him the satisfaction. he took a casual step forward, slipping his hands into his pockets, and leaned in close, voice low and almost playful.

“so… what’re you doing over here, all alone with me?” he drawled, eyes trailing slowly from your eyes down to your lips.

before he could say anything else, you raised an eyebrow, folding your arms. 

“you mean, other than watching you try to pretend you weren’t sporting a hard-on for half the event?”

the teasing grin on your lips was unmistakable, and his reaction was instant. toji’s expression flickered, a hint of surprise in his eyes, followed by an intense gleam as he chuckled under his breath. “oh, so you noticed that, huh?”

“noticed? please,” you scoffed, keeping up your confident front even as he closed the space between you with slow, measured steps. “how could i not? it was right there.”

“guess you were too busy looking at me to focus on anything else,” he replied smoothly, his voice dropping a little lower. he leaned in, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours, breath warm against your skin. “maybe i should’ve been paying more attention to you instead.”

your heart skipped a beat, but you didn’t let it show. 

“well, now you know better,” you murmured back, voice challenging. “maybe you should’ve acted on it then, instead of waiting until now.”

he raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “oh, is that a challenge?”

“only if you can handle it,” you shot back, the thrill of the back-and-forth sparking something between you two.

his eyes darkened, and before you knew it, he had one hand on your waist, pulling you flush against him, his other hand braced against the wall by your head. 

“you think i can’t handle a little challenge from you?” he murmured, his lips so close they nearly brushed yours.

you swallowed, but kept your cool. “if you could, you wouldn’t be hesitating.”

“trust me, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice low and dangerously smooth, “when i’m done with you, you won’t be the one running your mouth.”

before you could come up with a retort, his lips were on yours, firm and demanding, as if he’d been waiting all night to finally do this. you couldn’t hold back a soft gasp as he kissed you deeper, his hand sliding up to cradle your face while his other gripped your waist tightly, pressing you up against the wall.

your hands instinctively found their way to his shoulders, clutching him as he took full control of the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours with a fierceness that left your head spinning. he groaned softly as he pressed his body closer, one hand sliding up the side of your thigh, fingers grazing over the soft fabric of your dress.

“you like getting me all worked up, don’t you?” he murmured against your lips, his voice laced with that smug edge that made you shiver. “can’t get enough of teasing me, huh?”

“maybe i do,” you shot back, though your voice wavered slightly as he bit down on your lower lip, sending a spark through you. “but it’s not my fault you can’t keep your hands to yourself.”

he chuckled darkly, his hands sliding up your sides, thumbs brushing just beneath your ribs as he pressed his hips against yours. 

“yeah? what’re you gonna do about it?” he murmured, leaning in to brush his lips over the sensitive skin of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

“you really think you’re in control here?” you asked, voice challenging even as he continued to press you into the wall. “because from where i’m standing, it looks like you’re the one who can’t resist me.”

“careful what you say,” he warned, his tone thick with restrained desire. “i’m this close to dragging you out of here and making you eat those words.”

your heart raced, and even though you were half-tempted to keep pushing him, you couldn’t deny the thrill of having him this close, his hands roaming over you, his lips brushing down your neck. you let out a breathless laugh, threading your fingers through his hair as you tugged him closer. 

“then maybe you should quit talking and show me what you’ve got.”

he didn’t need any further invitation. his grip tightened on you, his mouth covering yours in a heated, almost punishing kiss that left you breathless. his hands roamed over your body with a hunger that was practically palpable, every touch igniting a new spark. 

he was practically devouring you, his breath coming faster as he pressed you harder against the wall, his fingers digging into your waist as he kissed you deeply, thoroughly, like he wanted to leave his mark.

“god,” he murmured, voice husky, “you’re driving me insane.” he leaned back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze intense. “you really wanna keep pushing me, huh?”

you smirked, your own voice barely above a whisper. “maybe i just like seeing what you’ll do about it.”

on the outside, you were holding your ground. confident smirks, playful retorts, the whole act. but on the inside? 

you were freaking the fuck out. 

here you were, basically mimicking every female lead you’d ever written, pulling from their limitless reserve of sass and self-assuredness to somehow keep pace with toji's relentless flirting. each comeback, each smirk — it was like a mental pep talk to channel all those characters who’d never break a sweat in this situation.

but… oh god. what if things actually got hot and heavy? 

you were standing there, going toe-to-toe with toji of all people, and it hit you — you were completely out of your depth here. this was not your usual flirting, the teasing banter you’d half-heartedly perfected through fictional dialogue. 

this was real.

and suddenly the thought crept in like an alarm bell: you might actually have to… gn?

your eyes widened a fraction as you tried to keep your cool. 

gn. 

get naked, not even good night — although, maybe a good night after the get naked part, if you even made it that far without spontaneously combusting. 

your mind raced, frantically scrolling through every bedroom scene you’d ever written, but realizing none of them really prepared you for this. 

oh my god, you panicked inwardly, just because i write smut doesn’t mean i know what to do when i’m the one gripping the sheets!

“what, cat got your tongue?” toji’s voice interrupted your internal spiral, his smirk widening as he traced a thumb across your cheek, dipping dangerously close to your lips. “not so confident now, are ya?”

you forced a grin, cursing the tremble in your fingers as they clutched at his shirt. 

“oh, please, like i’m nervous,” you shot back, mentally crossing every finger and toe that your voice didn’t waver. 

inside, though, you were a swirling mess, praying he didn’t catch the slightest tremor. 

fake it till you make it, right? 

only problem was, the longer he looked at you, the more he seemed to see right through you.

his eyes narrowed just a little, his smirk shifting into something… softer, a touch more considerate. you wanted to think he’d be gracious, that he’d at least slow down, but no, there was something else in his gaze. maybe a flicker of understanding? 

no, that was too generous.

he was toji.

and as if he could sense your hesitation, he leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear. 

“relax, princess,” he whispered, his tone softer, maybe even gentle. “we can go as slow as you want. besides…” his lips quirked up into a teasing grin. 

“don’t think you’re getting out of this without admitting how much you’re enjoying it.”

relax? yeah, right. 

your heart was doing backflips, your mind racing through every possible move you’d probably never have the courage to pull off. he had you right where he wanted you, and you couldn’t stop the blush rising to your cheeks. 

oh god, you thought desperately, please don’t ask me to make the next move.

just as you were bracing yourself to somehow manage to keep up this charade of confidence, toji’s phone vibrated between you, cutting the tension with a blaring ringtone. and of all people, it had to be gojo. you glimpsed his name flashing on the screen right as toji picked up, rolling his eyes before pressing the phone to his ear.

“what, satoru?” toji sighed, clearly irritated at the interruption.

“toji! man, hurry up and get back here!” gojo’s voice screeched through the phone, loud enough for you to hear the dramatic urgency. “we’ve got a very, very depressed mr. geto here who’s having the existential crisis of the century. we need all hands on deck, and yes, that means you too. and preferably sober, mind you. no drinks this time! none.” 

gojo's voice dropped, muttering something about “banging y/n later if you have to,” but you both caught it.

toji gave you a side-eye smirk, shaking his head at gojo’s predictability, before letting out a sigh. 

“fine. but you owe me one, big time.” and with that, he ended the call, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

before you could even tease him about the abrupt change of plans, he leaned in and gave you a sharp smack! on the ass, grinning at the way you jumped. 

“guess we’ll have to put this on hold, princess. duty calls.” with a wink, he took your hand, leading you back toward the table.

it was gonna be a long night.

back at the table, the scene was…well, not what you’d expected. 

suguru looked rough. 

he sat slumped in his chair, swirling a glass of water (gojo had made sure of it) with a far-off stare that looked like he was seeing into another dimension. gojo and shoko were positioned on either side of him, each with their own ineffective tactics.

“c’mon, sugu, it’s not the end of the world,” gojo said, nudging him with a grin that looked a bit too forced. “i mean, i never liked her anyway. you deserve way better than —”

“she was amazing,” suguru cut him off, his voice flat but tinged with emotion. “you wouldn’t understand, satoru.”

shoko sighed, patting his shoulder. “she wasn’t that amazing. she had weird fashion taste.”

“and didn’t she correct you on every little thing? constantly?” gojo added, crossing his arms with a small smirk.

suguru gave them both a look, unamused. “i liked her fashion sense. and i didn’t mind the corrections.”

toji leaned back in his seat, giving you a subtle eye roll. 

this was what you’d come back for. 

he sighed, then leaned forward, slapping a hand on suguru’s shoulder. “you know, sulking isn’t gonna help anything. maybe it’s time to get back out there, stop dwelling on someone who clearly didn’t value you.”

suguru let out a tired sigh, and gojo jumped in, eyes lighting up. “exactly! there are plenty of people who’d be thrilled to date the great suguru geto!” he gestured around the room as if a fan club might spontaneously form right then and there. 

“you’re smart, you’re talented —”

“and single,” shoko added dryly, sipping her drink with a shrug.

suguru slumped lower, clearly unconvinced. “i don’t want to be single,” he muttered. “i wanted her.”

you winced at the defeated tone in his voice, exchanging a helpless look with toji, who looked equally unsure what else they could say to help. 

gojo, though, was not one to give up. he clapped his hands, as if a brilliant idea had just struck him.

“okay! new plan,” he declared, leaning in with an almost manic enthusiasm. “you’re going to go out with us this weekend. all of us. no work, no responsibilities — just a wild time. we’ll find you a nice rebound —”

suguru glared. “no, thanks.”

shoko groaned, propping her chin on her hand. “well, i’m out of ideas. anyone else?”

you took a deep breath, deciding to give it one last shot. 

“maybe…you don’t have to forget her completely, but maybe you can focus on what made you happy outside of her. like, remember what you love doing?”

suguru looked at you, as if considering the thought, but then slumped back. “it’s not the same,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “it’s just…not the same.”

gojo groaned dramatically, throwing his head back. “i swear, you’re worse than me on my worst breakup day. someone call for reinforcements because i think we’re gonna need a miracle worker for this one.”

the table fell quiet, everyone glancing at suguru, who looked as defeated as ever, and it hit you that maybe tonight, there really wasn’t a solution.

one month later, the dreaded wedding invitation arrived, dropped unceremoniously on suguru’s desk. it was embossed in gold, the bride and groom’s names announced in elegant script, and just looking at it made his chest tighten. this was her wedding — the woman he’d once thought he’d spend his life with, now celebrating a future with someone else.

gojo’s reaction was immediate, bursting out in an exaggerated laugh when he saw the invite on suguru’s desk. 

“are you kidding me? she’s really inviting you? that’s low, even for her. come on, suguru, you’re not actually thinking about going, are you?”

suguru just gave a small smile, almost serene in the face of it all. “actually, i think i might.”

gojo gaped. “what?! dude, they’re practically rubbing it in your face! it’s like sending a ‘ha-ha, we’re in love, and you’re not’ postcard.” 

he crossed his arms, scowling at the offending piece of cardstock. “this is the most tasteless thing i’ve ever seen.”

shoko, who was nearby, raised an eyebrow, half-amused, half-curious. “maybe she didn’t mean it that way, satoru. maybe it’s her way of being considerate, keeping suguru involved as a friend.”

gojo scoffed, rolling his eyes. “oh please, you don’t invite your ex to your wedding, especially if you broke his heart. she should be thrilled he’s not cursing her name in three different languages.”

but suguru only shook his head, calm as ever. “it’s not like that, satoru. we’ve both moved on, in our own ways. i don’t hold it against her. she chose what makes her happy, and if that’s someone else…well, then i wish her the best.” he shrugged lightly. “i don’t see any point in being bitter about it.”

gojo stared at him, as if seeing an entirely different person. “you’re joking, right? this is not you. the real suguru would’ve burned that thing or at least made a snarky comment about her dress being too ‘last season.’”

suguru laughed, an easy, relaxed sound that caught them all by surprise. “that’s exactly it, satoru. i don’t want to be that guy anymore. i’ve spent enough time with those feelings. they’re…exhausting. if going to this wedding gives me closure, then why not?”

gojo looked like he was about to combust. “closure? closure is just a fancy word for ‘let me put myself through hell for no reason.’ honestly, suguru, you’re giving her too much credit. she’s the one who ditched you, remember?”

suguru tilted his head, offering gojo a gentle but pointed look. “maybe it’s not about her anymore. maybe this is just about me.” his voice was calm, but there was a certain finality in it, as if he’d already come to terms with everything.

gojo, meanwhile, huffed and crossed his arms, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “well, i think it’s ridiculous. she doesn’t deserve any more of your attention.”

suguru sighed, but there was a faint smile on his lips, as if gojo’s dramatics were somehow endearing. 

“satoru, not everything is a personal insult. people make choices. sometimes they’re not the ones we wanted, but that doesn’t make them wrong.”

gojo let out a long, exaggerated groan. “you’re way too good for this world, suguru. like, way too mature. no one deserves you. i’d be sending her a glitter bomb or something, just for the hell of it.”

shoko chuckled, patting gojo on the back. “maybe you should take a lesson from suguru. not everyone has to nurse their ego through every breakup.”

gojo snorted, still glaring at the invitation like it had personally offended him. “fine, go ahead and be the bigger person, suguru. but if you even think about bringing me as your plus-one, i’m causing a scene.” 

he folded his arms defiantly. “i’m talking upstaging the bride type of scene.”

suguru’s smile widened, genuine and peaceful. “noted, satoru. but i think i’ll be alright.”

and in that moment, watching suguru handle what should have been a painful reminder with quiet dignity, even gojo’s bluster faded just a bit. sure, he might think suguru was handling it all wrong, but deep down, he couldn’t help but admire his friend’s strength.

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[elrielbaby]

What do you think of the Gwynriels being too confident in their ship? Are you sure Az has feelings for Gwyn and is always looking for her and stuff? And what are they matte?

I have tried, really really tried, to see where they’re coming from. I’ve re read the books multiple times to ensure I’m not missing any context, I’ve looked at it through every angle possible and I still cannot fathom why they are so confident.

I have a couple of theories as to why they’re so confident and I’m feeling a little spicy today, so I’ll share. I could go in to heavy detail, but I’ll try keep it brief anon.

1. They hate Elain and so are looking for any other option. Literally anyone. G*yn happens to be in the bonus chapter and so they go with that, without really thinking about it* (I will circle back to this).

2. They blindly follow the word of one or two people online.They don’t like Elain, or they love L*cien (and they totally miss all the clues that say L*cien doesn’t actually want Elain but that’s a whole other can of worms) and so they accept other people’s interpretations - which those people very intentionally present as fact, and use them as a jumping off point, so when they go back to the books they have that other persons narrative in their head that far better suits their ideals and so they’re looking, twisting, turning any and all of the narrative to fit that. They are gaslighting themselves, basically.

3. They don’t re read the books and they don’t open themselves up to any other possibility. I can say for myself that before I started posting online about elriel, I had heard about G*riel after reading the books and re read them to be sure. I’m nearly positive a lot of them don’t do that, and either never re read or re read as per the second point.

As to the second part of this question, I don’t believe he’s got feelings for G*yn, nor do I think he’s always looking for her - so, I’m very sure of that. If you meant Elain, it’s pretty obviously laid out in the text, without SJM having Azriel and Elain say ‘I’M IN LOVE WITH HIM/HER AND I DONT CARE WHO KNOWS IT’ - because how does that make any sense when they haven’t had their book? If they had, I’d be less sure of their endgame.

As for the last part, I’m going to assume you’re asking if I think either G*yn or Elain are mated to Azriel. I do not believe G*yn is Azriels mate. At all. There are a few signs that Az & Elain could be, but it truly doesn’t matter to me if they are or not. I think SJM has been metaphorically winking at us with some of the things she’s said about them but it could go a number of ways, in terms of wether they’re mates or not.

One things for certain though - they’re endgame ❤️

* to circle back to them not really thinking about it, as I didn’t want to bog down the main text with this, they don’t seem to consider a number of different things.

They don’t consider that it’s a limited bonus chapter that was only available for one specific book store. It is not available in the copies of ACOSF you can buy now, nor was it available in a huge number of copies you could buy at its initial release.

They don’t seem to consider that if you remove the bonus chapter, we still have four books that include build up for them. It literally makes no odds as to wether the bonus matters or not. For them though? Most of their argument relies on that bonus chapter.

They don’t seem to consider any other reason as to why G would be in that bonus chapter. None whatsoever. The Elain part was explicitly romantic and if you look at G’s part there is no romanticism in sight. The ‘spark’ happened after a conversation with Clotho, not even when G was present. Almost like G didn’t actually have anything to do with it at all. If you connect the dots to the main text, at least for my interpretation, you have Elain & Az, who very clearly have feelings for one another. You have G, who has a powerful affect on Nesta, and Clotho who also has, to a smaller extent, a powerful affect on Nesta.

And those are just the few things off the top of my head that I have the bandwidth to come up with right now. ❤️

[obeymeshallwedateaddict]

Hey.

First.

I love all your writing, they r fun to read and they make my day brighter ✨✨

Really Appreciate it.

Here is the request:

I wanted to request Solomon

We all know that his an old man ( whom we love so much ) and his based off the character from the Bible king Solomon.

If Solomon having 700 wives were true what would it be like

If MC and Solomon end up arguing over something stupid, MC just goes," Then am one of your collections to ? That's all I am to you! Right" something like that 😭

That line was horrible but something along those lines

It can be angst and fluffy.

Thanks a bunch! Wishing you an amazing day ahead!

Heyyy I absolutely love your request cuz duh. They make Solomon and the others seems like there was nothing before MC which is unlikely. Like I mean I'm pretty sure all of them had a few relationships before MC at some point or another. Anyway. Enjoy!

Author's note: I'll be posting short stories for the next few days since I'm working on a bigger story this time which will take a while. Hope it's not a problem.

Contains: Angst/Fluff

GN!MC x Solomon

You can find more of my work here: Masterlist

---

MC and Solomon had agreed to spend the evening together—just a quiet, uninterrupted night. But Solomon ended up running late, engrossed in some old spell or magical artifact he was researching, losing track of time. By the time he shows up, MC’s already feeling hurt and dismissed, thinking he prioritizes ancient things over their relationship.

MC: arms crossed, eyes narrowed as Solomon finally enters the room “Oh, look who finally decided to show up.”

Solomon: sighs, looking tired but trying to be calm “MC, I told you, I lost track of time. It happens. You know how important my research is.”

MC: “And I thought we were important too, Solomon. I’m not asking for much, just…a single night where I don’t feel like I have to compete with some dusty book or enchanted artifact.”

Solomon: growing defensive, a slight edge to his tone “It’s not a competition, MC. You’re acting like I’m choosing my work over you on purpose.”

MC: voice raising slightly, hurt “Well, that’s how it feels! You make these promises, but when it comes down to it, I’m always the one waiting. Why is it so hard for you to just…be here?”

Solomon: frowning “I’m here now, aren’t I? I don’t see why this has to be such a big deal.”

MC: glares, feeling even more hurt by his dismissive tone “A big deal? Maybe it wouldn’t be if this didn’t keep happening. You say you’re here, but half the time, I feel like I’m just a…just a side note in your never-ending list of priorities.”

Solomon: sighs, crossing his arms defensively “MC, I care about you, but I also have responsibilities—things that existed long before we ever met.”

MC: hurt, finally snapping “Oh, here we go—‘long before we met.’ That’s just it, isn’t it? This isn’t even about tonight; it’s about me realizing that I’ll never be more than one part of your centuries-long collection!”

Solomon: taken aback, not expecting that turn “What? Collection? MC, where is this even coming from?”

MC: “You probably don’t even see it, do you? How easy it is for you to just…move on, like I’m just another person you’re adding to the archive of your life. You’ve had 700 wives, haven’t you? Well, I guess I’m just another one for the record books, huh?”

Solomon: eyes widening in hurt, tone softening as he steps closer “MC, that’s not even fair. Those stories…they’re just stories, memories from lifetimes ago. I don’t know what I’ve done to make you feel like you’re ‘just another one,’ but believe me, you’re not.”

MC: arms crossed, looking away, voice trembling “It just…feels like I’ll never really matter to you. Not when you’ve had hundreds of people pass through your life like it’s nothing.”

Solomon: reaches out, resting a hand on MC’s shoulder, his tone soft and sincere “MC, I know my past seems…well, complicated, but I need you to believe that this is different. You’re not just part of my history. You’re the person I want in my present, and my future.”

MC: sighing, though still a little guarded “Then…show me, Solomon. Prove that I’m more than just a ‘number’ to you.”

Solomon: nodding with a small smile, determined “Every day, if that’s what it takes. I promise.”

[xiao-zhen]

Words Better Left Unread, or Is It? ~ Part III ☆

Part I Part II Part IV

Picture: Macaque's Dojo

“Shift a bit more to the right, Mk. To maintain your balance on your tail, you really need to tune into the sensation,” came the encouraging voice.

“It’s my tail, and I can definitely feel it! But no matter what I do, I keep tipping over!” Mk protested, frustration evident in his voice. He lost his balance again and landed unceremoniously on the ground with a soft, defeated “oof.” Wukong chuckled, but Mk could tell something was bothering him despite Wukong’s attempts to hide it. Mk paused and looked at Wukong, who was balancing on his tail. He always found it interesting that his tail was a little longer than Wukong’s but not as long as Macaque’s. When Wukong stood up, his tail didn’t quite reach the ground.

In contrast, Macaque’s tail appeared softer, and when it was raised, some of it even touched the ground. Mk realized that discussing Macaque might be a bit premature, as it would likely bother Wukong. However, knowing Mk’s curiosity, he couldn’t help but ask in a way that wasn’t very subtle; he ended up saying it out loud.

“So, Monkey King, why is Macaque's tail longer and fluffier than yours? And how is it that his tail is longer than ours, even though all three of us are monkey men?” Wukong didn't expect Mk to bring up Macaque, especially given the timing. Wukong's expression revealed that something was off, which Mk surprisingly noticed. Nevertheless, Wukong answered the question. 

"Some monkeys have different characteristics. I have less fur than Macaque. On my chest, there is a pink patch without any fur, while the macaque has a smaller, red patch that looks somewhat spiky but is soft, has a different shape, and is covered in fur. The same applies to our tails; his is long, mine is shorter, and yours is in-between compared to ours. But don't worry, you'll get a better sense of your monkey form at some point!"

Mk suddenly realized that Macaque was supposed to be at training today, just as he had promised. But where was he? Concerned, Mk turned to Wukong and asked, “Hey, did you see Macaque? He was supposed to be here for training today.” Wukong furrowed his brow, unsure of how to explain Macaque’s absence. He thought, Oh no, I really don’t want to have to tell Mk this. What could he even say? “Macaque writes letters to me that he never actually sends, using them to help process his emotions. Recently, Savage decided to give one of these letters to me. I couldn’t help but read it, and now Macaque is probably panicking and avoiding training to escape the situation.” Yeah, Wukong is definitely not on board with telling Mk.

Mk couldn't help but notice Wukong's reaction and asked, "What happened? Don’t tell me you two got into an argument, and he didn’t show up just to spite you?" Wukong froze; that wasn’t exactly what happened. It was partly true but also partly not. However, what Mk said next made Wukong freeze again—this was a terrible idea!

Mk crossed his arms, and frustration was evident in his voice. “Wukong, stop acting like a child! This isn’t just about you anymore,” he reprimanded, shaking his head. “You think I haven’t noticed how you’re handling this? If we don’t confront him together, we’re only making things worse!” He took a step closer, determined to get through to Wukong. “Macaque helped us defeat Lady Bone Demon and retrieve the scroll; he’s on our side! You need to trust that we can face this, but if you keep backing away, you only isolate yourself. We’re going, and that’s final!” His tone softened just a bit as he continued, “I know you’re scared, but you’re stronger than you think. We can do this together.” After that, Wukong looked like a dejected child, his shoulders slumping and his gaze cast downwards. The weight of doubt and fear clung to him, making it hard to find the resolve he once had. He seemed lost in thought, reflecting on the dangers ahead and the uncertainty of their mission. Clearly, the burden of their struggles weighed heavily on his heart, and the flicker of hope he had was now dimmed. 

Mk explained that he would take Wukong to see where Macaque lived, suggesting it might help clear the air. “I’ll wait outside while you two talk,” he said, trying to reassure Wukong. “Sometimes, facing someone in their own space can change everything.” He glanced at Wukong, gauging his reaction. “Just remember, this is about understanding and finding a way forward.” With a nod, Wukong seemed to soften a bit, the tension in his expression easing. They set off, hoping this meeting would be the first step toward healing the rifts between them.  He paced back and forth, gripping his hair in frustration. Mk couldn't help but say that he felt like the wise Subodhi. 

With Mk, they flew onto Wukong’s cloud in his bird transformation, guiding the way to Macaque’s dojo. When they landed, Wukong noticed the area where Macaque lived. “Is this where he lives? In this neighborhood? It’s a pretty dangerous area,” he remarked. Mk pointed out, “Yeah, but he’s the Six-Eared Macaque; he should be fine.” Wukong noted how Mk spoke about Macaque; it was clear the kid viewed him positively, seeing him as a warrior—the warrior he once was. Wukong then realized, “A dojo? His place is a dojo?” He couldn’t help but snicker, but his laughter quickly turned to nervousness as Mk approached the door to knock. 

They heard Macaque's voice drift through the air, husky and heavy with fatigue. "Not interested," he said. His tone had an unmistakable weariness, a grogginess that suggested he had endured a restless night. Clearly, he hadn't slept; the roughness of his voice indicated he had spent hours tossing and turning, possibly preoccupied with worry or contemplation. Wukong couldn't help but wonder if the arrival of that letter had affected Macaque to such a degree that it robbed him of his rest. This thought weighed heavily on him as he considered the depth of Macaque's unease. Mk also noticed it and looked at Wukong with concern, clearly showing that he cared for Macaque. Mk then spoke up, saying it was him and Wukong, just as they heard a loud noise of weapons clattering to the ground from somewhere high above in his place, followed by a muttered, “Crap.”

“Don’t you have training to get to? I didn’t feel up for it today, Kid. Maybe next week.”Mk knew he was avoiding Wukong, so he scolded Macaque to get him to open the door. “Come on, Macaque! I know you’re in there! You can’t just hide away like this,” he shouted, his voice a mix of frustration and urgency. “We need to talk, and you can’t keep shutting everyone out! I know you’re tired, but at least let me in to sort this out.” Despite his stern words, Mk couldn't shake the feeling of sympathy for Macaque, who looked weary and worn from a sleepless night. The silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the unsettling clinks of metal weapons being picked up and shifted around. Macaque remained detached, seemingly lost in his thoughts, choosing to ignore the attempt at conversation. Sensing the growing tension, Mk took a deep breath and prepared to speak again, hoping to reach the man behind the formidable façade. 

Mk inhaled deeply, the cool air filling his lungs as he raised his hand to the door, knocking firmly once more. The sound resonated softly through the stillness of the hallway, a solitary echo amidst the quiet. After what felt like an eternity of tense silence, the door creaked open slowly, revealing Macaque standing in the frame. His expression was palpable annoyance; his brows furrowed, and his eyes narrowed as he glared at Mk. The irritation was evident on his face, as if the mere thought of facing Wukong’s familiar, with all its infuriating traits, had worn thin his patience.

“I’m not talking to him.”

He was, of course, referring to Wukong. Mk groaned and then began to plead, “Come on! Just talk to him! Think about how you worked together for the Lady Bone Demon and the ink scrolls. I know you both care more than you want to admit, and you miss each other—you miss the friendship! Just talk it out for once!” Wukong shifted uncomfortably, glancing around with anxious eyes as he stood in the shadow of Mk, his heart racing. The air was thick with tension, and he felt the weight of uncertainty pressing down on him, starkly contrasting with Mk's confident stance. As Mk continued, Macaque had enough. 

“Well, Great Sage Equal to Heaven, I haven’t slept, so I’m timing it. Come in.” Mk stayed outside and walked to the side, revealing the nervous wreck of the Monkey King. The door closed from behind Wukong when he nervously walked in. Wukong hated how it felt as if he had been “caught” reading the letter at this very moment. 

“I know you read that letter. Your impulsiveness couldn’t help it. Now get what you want to say out and leave.”

What Wukong said next surprised them both.