#heavy fluff

[fr3sh-tragedies]

[Resident Evil Village] Donna Beneviento x Female Reader - "Attached"

[Requested]

Summary: Donna gradually manages to get used to how affectionate you can be. So much so that she starts to initiate forms of affection herself.

Word Count: 7.29k Content + Warnings: Slightly OOC Donna (and possibly Alcina), talks of insecurity and loneliness, language (?), brief allusions to sex

- - - - [Masterlist] - - - -

[A/N]: I got a little carried away with some of the dialogue. This was just fun to write, honestly. I couldn't think of a good way to write the ending, so the pacing might seem a bit off. Also, I'm trying out a new banner for my stories, but I'm not sure if I'll keep it.

Enjoy!

Affection wasn’t something that was necessarily common in the Beneviento household. Even with her dolls there to keep her company over the years, Donna very seldom found herself being comforted by their small embraces, subconsciously reminding herself that they weren’t doing it of their own accord. Being reminded constantly of the fact she was in control of every action each doll made, she never truly felt as though there was love in them.

It had been so long since her parents had been around, and even though she was taken in under Miranda’s supposed care, not once in her lifetime did the priestess show her the affection, nor the approval, she had been desperately craving.

All throughout the rest of her childhood, adolescence, and most of her adulthood, Donna found herself alone. Even when she was surrounded by her “family” during meetings and other events, she could never seem to truly rid herself of the feeling of loneliness. She had convinced herself with time that she would be fine all alone – she deserved it, and it would be better for everyone anyway. As a result, she hardly ever left her home unless someone forced her to or if she had to visit the Duke for new supplies.

She grew accustomed to the silence in that cold manor, every unexpected sound causing her to panic until it passed. Improvising unfamiliar acts of affection was difficult to do on her own, which ultimately led her to create new dolls that were more mannequin-like that she could cradle or lean against when she felt particularly lonely. Some mannequins were designed specifically to be able to hold her close, and although she was immune to the effects of the pollen she used to cause hallucinations, she still managed to find a way to force a heartbeat and breathing that wasn’t there in order to bring herself some deluded sense of comfort.

Often, she ended up falling asleep cradled in the wooden arms of her creations, usually in the den on the couch, or on the sofa in the study during the middle of a movie. It was a rare occurrence for her to sleep in her own bed. It was too painful most nights to roll over and see the empty side of the bed, cold and lacking anyone there for her to wake up to in the morning. Most nights, she wouldn’t let herself sleep until she physically couldn’t stay awake any longer.

Because of all of this, her twenties dragged on for an eternity. 

Once she realized just how alone her younger sister was once she reached her early thirties, Alcina took it upon herself to send one of her best maids to the Beneviento household to provide her both with help around the house and some much needed company.

She hadn’t given any warning, only sent the poor girl out to the grounds in a carriage with a few other trusted servants to ensure she made it safely. Had she been sent to walk there instead, Donna would’ve taken notice immediately and likely killed the young woman. However, she recognized her sister’s carriage instantly and stopped herself from reacting too harshly. She answered the door herself when a knock echoed down the halls, assuming it was either Alcina herself or her daughters.

Frozen immediately at the sight of a stranger standing there at her doorstep, Donna found it impossible to speak. When you bowed your head and explained your situation, the Lady subtly motioned for Angie to answer for her, screaming at you, the stranger, and asking why there was no warning of your sudden appearance.

“Oh, my apologies, Lady Beneviento. I had assumed Lady Dimitrescu had called or sent a letter prior to my arrival. I hope I’m not intruding on anything important,” you had whispered, your voice so gentle and sincere that Donna couldn’t find it in herself to be entirely angry with you. ‘It wasn’t the poor girl’s fault,’ after all, it was Alcina’s, and she made a mental note to call her later and give her a piece of her mind.

Wordlessly, Donna lifted her hand as a gesture to stop talking, one in which you obeyed immediately. “You silly girl,” Angie screeched, laughing almost maniacally as she clambered to your legs and climbed to your shoulders. “You worked for the Big Hat Lady, didn’t you? Why would she send you here? Were you too useless around her crusty, old, gigantic castle?”

“Oh, no,” you answered with a small laugh, puzzling Donna on how calm you seemed to be. She reminded herself that you had probably seen far worse and more bizarre things while under Alcina’s reign. A talking doll was surely something unordinary, though there were deeper horrors out there that outweighed even the pure discomfort Angie brought to others.

“Nothing like that. I assure you I do my best.” Donna hummed, disinterested and unamused. Still, you continued. “If I’m being completely honest, I’m not entirely sure why she sent me here, but I’m sure she has a good reason. I was honestly hoping I would be able to ask if you knew why, but… well, it seems we’re both at a loss.”

You seemed so casual about everything: you weren’t uncomfortable standing in front of possibly the most feared Lord in the village, you didn’t seem scared or startled when Angie came bounding around the corner, and you weren’t trembling even a little bit under the unsettling views that surrounded you. As annoyed as she was with this sudden intrusion, Donna had to admit she was still a little intrigued by you.

Perhaps some good would come from your stay after all. It would certainly be a nice change to have more time to herself outside of her projects. If someone was there to help take care of the cleaning and organizing, she would have more peace. More effort could be put into her dolls, she would be able to spend more time reading and researching, and she wouldn’t be alone. Regardless of knowing she likely wouldn’t be able to bring herself to talk directly to you, it was still a comforting thought to know there would be someone there – someone she couldn’t control, but someone she could instead rely on to make things lighter on her shoulders.

A moment passed before she sighed, stepping aside and welcoming you almost unwillingly into her estate.

“Thank you, my Lady,” you murmured with another charming smile, lifting your suitcases and carrying them inside. Once the front door was closed, Donna turned to find you standing there, patiently waiting for your first order. “I’ll show you to your room,” Angie announced, still perched on your shoulders. Without getting down, she grabbed ahold of your sleeves and began yanking them in the direction she wanted you to go.

Biting back a small snicker at her motions, you followed her demands and made your way to the stairs, still clutching your bags in your hands. Donna watched until you disappeared into the guest room that used to be her bedroom as a child. She didn’t know you entirely – only caught glimpses of you occasionally during her visits to the castle – though she still hoped that old room would be suitable and you would find it comfortable here. Using Angie distracting you to her advantage, she made her way to the lift and lowered herself to the basement, where she found her landline and dialed her sister’s phone number with a practiced motion.

Two rings before Alcina picked up, and it seemed she already knew who had called.

“Donna, darling, before you start lecturing me, will you give me a chance to explain myself?” Snarling through her words, Donna agreed to stay silent and listen. “Yes, but it better be a good reason. You know very well how I feel about strangers.”

“I know you aren’t fond of new people, but I can assure you I sent that girl with the best intentions in mind. She’s one of my best maids: kind, obedient, very level-headed. I figured she would be a good fit for you. I–” “Scusi?” Donna interrupted, on the verge of hollering. “Oddio mio! Fai sempre quello che vuoi, ed è esasperante!” Before she could continue with her verbal tirade, her eldest sister interrupted once again, prompting her blood to boil further. “Donna, please listen to me, dear,” her voice was almost strained.

A small slipped past Lady Dimitrescu’s lips, almost silent from the other side of the phone. Donna could picture her pinching the bridge of her nose as she spoke – could see her brows furrowing and causing her skin to crease in disdain. “I promise you I will explain myself, but you must listen to the entirety of what I have to say.”

“Make it quick. If there’s no viable reason for that girl to be here, I will send her back immediately.”

“I’m explaining my reasons, if you’ll be patient with me for just a moment.”

When silence fell between them, Alcina took it as a sign of the doll-maker’s reluctant compliance. “I noticed over the years that you’ve been lacking any sort of assistance down in that manor of yours, amongst other things. I know you won’t enjoy hearing it, but you’re alone, Donna, terribly alone. Anyone can see it, that’s how painfully obvious it is. That can lead to horrible tricks from the mind. You shouldn’t have to do everything by yourself. Some company would do you good, even if it’s just a maid there to help keep things tidy. I worry about you, truly, but there’s so little I’m able to do for you if you won’t accept the help I give you.

“That’s why I’m asking you to give this arrangement a chance. A month, at most. If you still aren’t satisfied or comfortable with her being there with you by then, I will send for her return, but I would appreciate it if you tried.”

“Alcina–” Donna started, grunting in distrust.

“Only for a month. I’m in no way suggesting you try to court this girl or even grow close to her. Just be cordial so you’ll have someone there with you that you can rely on at any given moment. She’s kind, patient, and respectful of any person, which is why I assumed she would be a good fit for you. She won’t step over your boundaries or interfere with anything you’re struggling with unless you ask her to. Please, whether you’re ready or not, give her a chance.”

A brief moment passed where Donna could only part her lips, though no words would come forward. She wanted desperately to protest against what her sister had essentially thrown on her so unexpectedly, though some part of her – the loneliest part, she knew – wanted to have someone here with her. Her sister trusted you, and you hadn’t caused any trouble that resulted in reprimand while you were still under her care, so there was a chance you wouldn’t be a nuisance the way she thought just a moment before.

Her mind wandered without her realizing it, filling itself with every potential way of what could go wrong. Silently, she was grateful that the familiar, comforting voice of her sister filled the space once more. “Donna, dear? Are you willing to give her the opportunity to stay with you? I only ask a month of your patience on her behalf.”

“You promise you’ll have her leave if I’m not satisfied with her company by the end of the next month?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Cazzo,” she whispered under her breath, tilting her head away from the phone to hide her words further. Suppressing a small groan, Donna nodded her head, though she knew her sister couldn’t see her. “Fine, she has one month. Be prepared to have one of your carriages sent here by then.” A soft, satisfied hum escaped Alcina’s lips in response. “I’ll have one prepared in case things go awry, but I assure you that you’ll enjoy her company. I hardly wanted her to leave myself, which is why I’m entirely confident that the only reason I’ll need to see her again is when my daughters and I come to visit during the summer months. They’ll be thrilled to see her again either way.”

“If we’re done with this conversation, I’ll have to hang up. Since there was no warning that this girl would be showing up on my doorstep, I’ve made no plans on what she’s to do around here. I’ll have to come up with a few things as I go.” “Yes, I understand. I’ll call you again next month to check in and see how things are going. Does that sound alright with you?”

“Yes. Goodbye, Alcina.”

“Thank you, Donna,” was her only reply before Donna placed the phone down, refraining every part of herself that wanted to shatter it and toss the remains far away.

Just above, she winced at still being able to hear the shrillness in Angie’s voice, and she knew she’d have to join you and the mouthy doll soon enough. To give herself a moment to breathe and steel her nerves, she took the time to straighten out her veil and suck in a deep breath. It took more effort than she would’ve liked to admit to force her legs to carry her back to the lift and not collapse beneath her as she stepped inside, turning hesitantly to tap the arrow and send herself back to the main floor.

When she arrived, Angie was already making her way to the elevator door, cackling as she tugged your hand so you’d follow her. “Donna, the silly girl told me she knows how to play piano! Isn’t that great? Now you’ll have someone else to sit with you and keep you company while you make new friends!” Scowling down at the doll, Donna shook her head, though she didn’t have a chance to speak before you did.

“Angie,” you started, chuckling at the doll’s antics, “I don’t want to impose on anything. I’m sure she’d prefer your company over mine. She seems far more comfortable with you.” Somehow, in the short amount of time you had been left alone with her, you had managed to get on Angie’s good side, which was made evident when you crouched down and lifted the doll into your arms. A smile painted your lips, even as you looked back at Donna.

“Now that you’re back, I was wondering what you’d like me to do around the house. I’m willing to do whatever you need.” Taking some time to think of what needed to be done, Donna made a small motion with her hand, silently asking you to follow her back into the small study. Angie, once you were close enough to the sofa, leaped out of your arms and landed on one of the cushions, excitedly bouncing up and down and causing you to chuckle again.

The Lady sauntered to the desk tucked on the far wall and slid the top drawer open. Her hand dipped into the small drawer and plucked a sheet of paper from a stack, as well as a pen, which she then placed onto the surface of the desk, pushing the drawer until it closed. As you wandered over to join her, she scribbled out a list of chores for you to do, adding a small note at the base of the sheet. When she turned and handed it to you, your eyes immediately scanned over her neat handwriting, specifically the words formed at the bottom. ‘Under no circumstances will you go to the basement.’

She stayed there, standing rigid as a board and staring at you expectantly. “Thank you, my Lady,” you suddenly blurted, that gleeful smile never faltering. Surprised, she blinked. She had partially expected you to question why the basement was off limits, then reminded herself yet again of all you had likely witnessed at her sister’s. “I’ll get started right away. Angie,” some part of her felt disheartened when you turned away to plant your focus back on the small doll still hopping on the sofa.

“Will you be keeping Lady Beneviento company?” From behind her veil, Donna’s eye shot over to Angie, awaiting her answer. “Nah,” the small doll replied, stilling her movements on the cushion and making a dismissive motion with her hand. “I’ve got to make sure you do everything right, after all! Besides, Donna has her other friends to keep her company.” “Other friends?” “The other dolls, silly girl!”

“Oh, I see. I’ll have to meet them sometime.” Donna couldn’t resist clenching her jaw tightly at your words. “Are you mocking her?” Angie accused, now speaking for Donna as she crossed her arms. “No, of course not,” you answered truthfully. It didn’t seem you noticed how thick the tension had grown. If you had, you certainly didn't pay it any mind. “Dolls can be friends. I’d be happy to meet them someday, if you’d allow me to, my Lady.” You turned to her again, and she couldn’t help but fall motionless at the sincerity in your eyes.

You truly weren’t mocking her.

There was no hint of judgment or sarcasm in your tone, nor did it seem like you were saying it out of duress. You were being honest.

Unsure of how to respond, she could only offer you a simple nod, one that would’ve gone unnoticed if you hadn’t been staring directly at her.

Again, you smiled at her without a shred of fear, another gesture she would have to grow used to.

“I’ll get started now. Is there anything specific you’d like me to prepare for dinner?” At that, Angie shook her head rapidly. “No, no, Donna will cook, not you!” A little puzzled, you looked over at the doll-maker yet again. “Would you prefer to cook?” Another wordless nod was sent your way. “Okay, well… in that case, I’m excited to see what you’ll make.”

Then you left the room, still cradling Angie in your arms and entertaining her endless banter. With the list clasped in your hand, you began working around the house, cleaning, tidying, and organizing everything you were instructed to. By the time dinner was served, it was clear you were exhausted, though you made no comment on it. Instead, you were given a plate of one of Donna’s favorite dishes to prepare, left to eat it on your own accord in the dining room.

Donna, still adjusting to the idea of having someone else in the house with her, insisted she’d eat alone in her workshop down in the basement, which was still off limits to you.

Angie was there to keep you company and let Donna know what was happening. The doll-maker couldn’t bite back her prideful grin when you raved about how delicious her cooking was, cleaning your plate off in record time. You were visibly relieved and excited when you learned that she would be cooking every meal herself.

This routine continued over the next month. You’d be given a new list of chores to do for the day, meet briefly with Donna in the kitchen until breakfast, lunch, or dinner was ready, eat alone in the dining room, then carry on with your duties until you were finished. A few days in, Donna had taken notice of how quickly you managed to complete your given tasks, watching with curiosity as you tried to create ways to entertain yourself.

Angie wasn’t always there with you to keep you company, so you had to find new things to do on your own without overstepping your bounds. It didn’t take long before Donna gave you free reign of everywhere but the basement. You were allowed to pick any book you could find throughout the house, could prepare your own snacks in the kitchen, could watch a film if you desired, you were allowed to do pretty much anything once you were finished working for the day.

Donna had forgotten about her scheduled call with Alcina, hardly even giving it a second thought at first when she heard her sister’s voice over the phone. “Donna, dear, how have things been?” Humming, the doll-maker shrugged to herself. “Things have been good here. How are things with you?” “I’m doing well, thank you.”

A long, drawn out silence followed, one in which Donna grew increasingly confused. Finally, Alcina cleared her throat, audibly expectant of something specific from her younger sister. “Well? Do I need to send for her?”

“Hm? Send for who?”

An exasperated sigh greeted her. “The girl, Donna. The maid I sent to you a month ago?”

“Oh, yes, of course. Her.”

“Do I need to send for her?”

She paused, staring blankly at the ground. Off and on throughout the weeks, she had been preparing herself to scold her sister for even having the idea in the first place. She thought of the few choice words she would sneer at her as she snarled out her demands to make you leave at once. The entirety of the past month had been expected to be a living hell, though after she thought to herself for a moment, she realized that hadn’t been the reality at all.

You had been incredibly helpful, never failing to be courteous and respectful with the special charm only you seemed to have. The manor had never been so clean, not even when Donna was a child and still had her parents to help out around the house. No matter how strenuous it was, you ensured you’d clean every part of each room from top to bottom, never missing a spot.

Angie had grown to like you on top of everything, which was a hard goal to achieve. Not once had you treated the doll unfairly. You always joined in on her tea parties, kept her company when Donna needed to be alone, cracked jokes without scolding her for her unruly sense of humor, and overall treated her kindly.

Kind. That’s what you were.

Even towards Donna herself, you never seemed to hold any sense of resentment or disregard for her comfort or security. You’d learned to read her body language alone to know if she was in the mood for chatting, and even on the rare occurrence where she voiced her own thoughts without using Angie, you didn’t pressure her to say more when she fell silent. There was an understanding, it seemed, one that didn’t need to be pointed out to know it was shared.

She was insecure, that much was obvious. Still, you were as patient with her as you were with Angie, and that was something she’d never be able to understand. She was appreciative of how you treated her – seeing her as who she is rather than fearing her every move. In the beginning, she had grown nauseated at the idea of someone convincing you to leave her each time you left to retrieve supplies from the village.

She didn’t understand why she was so anxious over the possibility of you leaving because of her. After all, she was the one who had been on the verge of begging Alcina to take you away. It seemed you had grown on her in such a short amount of time. It was a hard thing to admit to herself, especially as she stood in that hallway on the phone, but she liked you. She enjoyed your company, regardless of the fact she rarely had the courage to speak with you on her own.

She didn’t want you to leave. She couldn’t let you.

“Donna?”

Forcing a small shaky breath to steady herself, Donna was brought back to the present at the sound of her sister’s voice. “No, you won’t need to send for her.”

Alcina chuckled on the other side of the line. “I told you you’d enjoy her company. She’s quite a sweet girl, isn’t she?”

“Sweet, yes. She’s very kind, even to Angie,” Donna murmured, ensuring her voice lowered itself for the last comment. Another gentle laugh greeted her ear. “Well, take good care of her for me, will you? She’s very dear to my daughters, as well as myself. It will be quite a hard task to find a maid as valued as her.” A soft smile graced the doll-maker’s lips. It was rather calming to know her sister thought so highly of you. It lowered the chance of you somehow ending up hurt if you ever joined her on a trip to the castle.

“I promise you she’ll be happy here,” was her reply, voice thick with reassurance and sincerity.

And she kept true to her word, constantly finding new ways to keep you content and even opening herself up to you. It surely took time, however. You hadn’t been given the opportunity to see her face uncovered until you had already lived there for two years. She had led you into her workshop in the basement, requesting for you to tidy things up after she had realized she had neglected the cleanliness of the room for too long.

As you cleaned, Donna returned to her projects, propping up a doll and a few pieces of cloth. A small notebook laid beside the doll, filled with different measurements she’d need for its clothing. It only took a few minutes before you heard her cursing under her breath. When you turned from the desk you had been dusting, you found her holding the notebook almost taut against her veiled face, clearly struggling to read what she had written.

“Lady Beneviento, are you alright?” You had asked, cautiously moving to stand beside the table she was standing at. Her head perked up, turning to you as if she hadn’t realized she had spoken aloud. “Yes,” she stammered, glancing back down at the small notepad, “I’m just used to putting my veil away while I work here. It’s why I haven’t let you down here with me before. I’m afraid I can’t see my writing very well with it on.” A nod was your reply, though you eventually moved to tidy up the desk again.

“Well,” you started, turning away, “you’re still free to take your veil off, of course. Please don’t let my presence here with you stop you from working comfortably.” She shook her head, more to herself than you. “I’m afraid I can’t do that. I’d only scare you away with the hideous monstrosity I hide.” “I can assure you, my Lady, you won’t scare me. I’ve seen horrendous things both in Lady Dimitrescu’s and Lord Moreau’s domains. Besides, if you’re anything like your portrait by the stairs, I highly doubt you have a hideous monstrosity hidden away beneath that veil. You must be just as beautiful.”

Although she stood dumbfounded at your blunt choice of words for what felt like an eternity, you were soon greeted with a scoff. “You’re a fool to believe such a thing. You know nothing of me.” You turned to her then. Seeing the look of pure confusion and what seemed like betrayal contorting your features nearly made her regret her words instantly. “But… Lady Beneviento, I do know you. These past two years–”

“Stai zitto.”

Your small journey to return to her side was cut short at her harsh tone. Such a plain-spoken phrase, laced purely with a concoction of venom and insecurity. You couldn’t bring yourself to move any closer. “All you know of who I am has come solely from those wretched villagers who smear my name through the mud at every given opportunity. They’ve painted a portrait of me, and it’s been glazed over time and time again with their harsh judgment. That portrait is not me, nor is the one you claim to find beautiful.”

Her breathing grew ragged as she spoke, voice leaping in volume as she recalled every rumor that found its way floating through the village like a fog. A short moment passed before she had to drop the notebook onto the table. Her hands were shaking far too violently for her to hold it comfortably.

“Cazzo,” she hissed, clutching at her palms and squeezing them tightly together in a futile attempt to steady them. Finally regaining your courage, you stepped forward, placing a hand on her shoulder only for it to be slapped away. “Non toccarmi!” With your hands held up in surrender, you allowed yourself a brief moment to choose your words carefully. “Please, my Lady, listen to me.”

A mocking laugh met your words, Donna now turned to you with her arms crossed. You could see how her nails dug into her sleeves and skin to a painful degree. “I have no reason to listen to you,” she retorted coldly. “I know that, my Lady, but I’m only asking for a short amount of your time. Will you hear me out?”

Had you been able to see past her veil, you would’ve seen how her eye narrowed as it focused on you – would’ve seen her brow furrowing deeply and creasing her skin – and you would’ve seen her lips pulling themselves tightly back into a scowl. Regardless of being unable to see such things riddling her face, you could tell from her tense figure that she was truly uncomfortable. Even so, when she made no effort to decline again, you parted your lips to speak once again.

“I know you must think that I’ve followed and believed every rumor there is out in the village related to you, but I assure you I’ve never paid any mind to such unnecessary lies. I’ve seen you, and I’ve seen how you treat others, even if Angie is the one to speak for you. During my time at the castle, I was able to watch when you’d spend time with Lady Dimitrescu or her daughters. It was clear there was some tension with your sister whenever you’d speak to her about your meetings with Mother Miranda, but you always treated her kindly.

“I couldn’t understand why the other maids feared you each time you’d come to visit. I still don’t understand. You’re everything the villagers claimed you aren’t. You’re a kind soul, my Lady, and you’ve only continued to show me that with every passing day I’ve stayed here. When I grew bored after finishing my tasks for the day, you and Angie would help me find a way to entertain myself. You’ve provided me with shelter, food, security, and a type of friendship I’d never thought I’d find.” Slowly, you took her hands from her arms and cradled them in your own, watching as the pads of your thumbs grazed soothingly over the backs of her knuckles. She stiffened, though she didn’t pull away.

“I promise you that, regardless of whatever you may think is bad enough to keep hidden even in the safety of your own home, I will never judge you for who you truly are. There’s nothing you could do to make me turn away from you.” Silence became tension once again, though you weren’t sure if it was caused by your words or your close proximity to the doll-maker.

You didn’t pull away, instead standing there and waiting for any kind of reply from her, even if she were to shove you away. Surprise flooded your senses when you felt her hands finally shift in yours to comfortably squeeze them back in return. “You’re an incredibly naive woman,” she mumbled, though there was only affection in her voice. It was clear she was smiling as she spoke. You smiled back at her.

Hesitating, you wondered if it would be acceptable for you to ask her to remove her veil. As though she could hear your thoughts, she slipped her hands out from yours, lifting them to her veil and toying with the hem. When she paused, you glanced back up at her with curiosity. “Would you mind turning around for a moment?” You nodded and obeyed instantly without a word, turning on your heel and waiting patiently for her to let you turn her way again.

It only took a moment for her to shuffle a bit behind you before you were granted permission to face her. When you did, you smiled at the sight of her veil pinned partially away from her face, only revealing half of the same face you saw each day when you’d pass her portrait.

“I was right. You’re beautiful.”

You had managed to gain enough of her trust for her to reveal the healthier side of herself, though it took even longer to see that part of her consistently. Another two years flashed by. You had grown rather close to Donna, so much so that you were finally allowed to address her by her name, and she sat you down in her room one night for a talk. It was then that the whole of her veil was finally removed and set aside. Putting every bit of her trust in you in that moment, she showed you the worst part of her – the part she despised the most.

She had expected anything but the reaction you had. As she built up her courage over time, she had imagined you losing every ounce of color in your face, your skin growing clammy. She pictured you screaming or groaning in utter disgust. She even envisioned you treating her like the monster she was and running for your life, leaving her all alone again.

But you did none of those things. You smiled at her so kindly, and it was a shock to her system to see the adoration in your eyes only grow at the sight of her. “My god,” you whispered, lifting your hands and cradling her face in them without hesitation. It was impossible for her to hide the crimson reddening her face at your actions, affection still an entirely foreign concept to her. “You’re just as stunning as I figured, Donna.”

A quiet laugh escaped her as she shook her head as much as she could in your hold. “I’ll never understand how you find everything beautiful.”

Even as she protested against how genuine you were being, some part of her finally felt at ease. She had shown you her biggest vulnerability, and you were still desperate to stay by her side. Each time she took her veil off in your company, you were nothing but positive, tossing out compliment after compliment in her direction.

Soon, she could be found lingering around the house as she worked, lacking her veil on most days. She’d tug it back on if the Dimitrescus came for a visit or if she had another family meeting with Mother Miranda and her siblings, but she found it far too comfortable when she was alone with you to hide herself away. With time, her trust in you grew alongside her endearment, and it didn’t take long for her to understand what her feelings for you were. She denied them for months, but Angie eventually scolded her for being so cowardly, expressing her annoyance with seeing just how hopeless Donna was on her own.

She spent time – weeks leading to months – trying to conjure up a plan on how she could let you know of her feelings. There were so many things she wanted to try, wanting to ensure her confession was genuine and romantic.

However, none of those plans came to light. Her feelings were made known purely by chance.

You had invited her to watch a movie that Angie had picked out from the Duke’s cart. She accepted with glee, thrilled just as she always was when you made an effort to include her in your plans. With her help, you set up the film and flipped on the projector before planting yourself on the sofa and making yourself comfortable. Donna watched fondly as you bundled up underneath a soft blanket and grabbed the bowl of popcorn you and Angie had prepared ahead of time.

With a smile, she joined you on the couch, albeit leaving a few inches of space between you to avoid coming across as too bold. She let herself lean against the back of the sofa, resting her head against the cushioning with a content sigh as her gaze focused forward on the film. As the movie progressed, you shared a few words with her, though – much to Angie’s dismay – it quickly turned into playful banter, something that had become a common occurrence.

Already knowing where things were headed, Angie snuck out of the room without notice. At one point, Donna moved closer with one of her teasing remarks, her hand sliding to you and resting on your hip without much thought. You didn’t refuse her touch, nor did you seem uncomfortable. You seemed rather inviting with her affection. You made it clear that you didn’t mind when you pulled her into your arms and practically cocooned her with the blanket.

She yelped in surprise at first, but you both burst into fits of giggles immediately after. Her laughter settled before yours, and she was left to gaze up at you, eye stricken with so much love that she was sure you could see hearts in it. Her smile was warm when you calmed yourself and stared back down at her. Curiosity sparked in her for a moment, wondering if you could feel her heart hammering heavily against her ribs as clearly as she could hear it in her ears, though it was diminished and replaced with the all-too-familiar feeling of need and desperation.

No other words had to be shared, she knew. It was clear from the small gleam in your eyes that you were needing her just as badly as she needed you in that moment. Surprisingly keeping her composure, Donna leaned up until she hovered above you, leaving you to feel her breath on your lips as they brushed against hers. One look back at you let her know everything was okay, and she finally allowed herself to close the gap, sighing in satisfaction at the feeling of being so close to you.

Every urge and ounce of desperation for intimacy that had built up over the years finally melted away peacefully that night and was instead replaced by the love that swelled up in her heart. As you laid in her arms, head resting against her bare chest as you slowly caught your breath again, she tilted her head down and pressed another feather-like kiss to the top of your head. When you turned to look up at her, she smiled.

“I love you.”

The next several days that followed, those three words were shared between you and Donna on a near-constant basis. They were heard so frequently that Angie insisted she carry a blanket or pillow around to cover her ears with, whining each time you or the doll-maker made a flirty or corny comment to the other. Donna had essentially attached herself to your side, always wanting to be where you were and vice versa. When you’d end up alone in a separate room, it wouldn’t take long for her to find you and join you in whatever you were doing.

A week after her confession, she’d unwillingly headed off to another family meeting. You had to convince her that morning to get up for the day. She clung to you in bed, groaning and whining anytime you tried to pull away, until you ultimately managed to wake her up properly with the promises of those kisses she adored so much. Reluctantly, she got dressed after a quick shower and wandered downstairs with you, where you peppered her face in kisses before helping her put her veil on, watching with a smile as Angie hopped into her arms once she made it to the front door.

You waved goodbye to her as she left, then returned to bed to rest for a while longer. After waking up only a couple of hours later, you trudged to the lift, then across the house until you made it into the kitchen, which only caused your stomach to growl loudly in anticipation. Rummaging through the cabinets and pantry resulted in you finding a small box of pasta and several herbs and spices to add to it. It didn’t take long to collect everything you needed before you found yourself standing by the stove, chopping up your chosen ingredients with a practiced ease.

After accumulating everything onto the small cutting board, you shifted carefully to the stovetop, where you then began scraping the chopped up herbs into the pot of boiling water, then placed the board to the side as you grabbed the spices and sprinkled them in.

Shortly after setting the pasta into the pot, you heard the front door open and shut. Immediately after, Angie’s quick footsteps echoed throughout the house until they eventually vanished upstairs. You hummed and smiled to yourself. She was most likely looking for you. “Tesoro?” Donna’s voice called out gently, helping you realize she was still by the front door. Heavier but slower footsteps were heard rounding the corner and nearing the entrance to the kitchen, ones in which you recognized right away. You turned to look at her when she walked in, smiling gleefully when you saw her veil had already been removed, fully allowing you to see how her eye lit up and her lips tugged upwards into a smile at the sight of you.

“Hey,” you whispered, voice still thick with fatigue. “You’re home.” She nodded, sauntering to stand behind you and plant her hands firmly on your hips, leaning forward to let her lips graze over the side of your neck. “I missed you,” she murmured against your skin, smiling when you chuckled. “You were only gone for a couple of hours.” “Yes, but I wasn’t exactly thrilled to leave this morning, if you recall. Those damned meetings are never useful anyway. I’m not sure why Mother Miranda insists we have them. It always just ends with Alcina and Karl arguing.”

Humming in thought, you slipped your hands down to rest on top of hers, briefly lifting one to peck the backs of her knuckles before lowering it to rest on your hip again. “Well, it’s over now, so you can relax again. You’re home.”

A sigh slipped past her lips as she moved to pull you back until you rested comfortably against her front, allowing her to wrap her arms around you properly. Again, her face returned to hide in the comfort of your skin, her lips pressed gently against your shoulder. Far before you ever arrived at her home, she had gone to countless family meetings, all of which ended the same: returning to the manor with a throbbing headache that she would have to deal with all alone.

She supposed she owed thanks to her older sister for introducing you into her life. Next time, she promised herself, she would tell her how grateful she was, but for now, she only wanted to cradle you in her arms and let all the stress and tension from the day melt away. You were the very thing that made this place a home – you were her home. Never again would she have to worry about isolation, nor would she dread returning to the estate each time she left, the cold, empty silence a long-forgotten memory now that she had you.

Humming, she hid herself further against you, allowing her eye to fall shut as she took in everything about you that never failed to bring her comfort and peace. She nodded.

“Yes. Now that I have you in my arms again, I am.”

Thanks for the all of the support, by the way!

Started on: November 7th, 2024 Finished on: November 18th, 2024

[gt-daboss]

FLUFFY Relationships in GT (spice)

(teeeny bit spicy) Last week I gave rations to the angst crowd, today the fluff army gets their fair share: Yall know that TV trope where the one character prepares the room for their lover so that when their lover finally comes to the room to sleep, they are greeted by roses and candles and smoooooth jazz that gets the soul going right (I'm specifically speaking of that one Avatar scene)? Ok ok so now imagine that, but a tiny trys to impress their giant partner, Roses, candles, sweet scents, only it doesnt go exaaactly as expected...

YEAH I SAID IT: All you tinies in the GT community, yall are LACKING in the game department, negative rizz and its honestly been on the decline lately... pretty soon yall wont just be able to rely on the fact that you are 2 in' tall and therefore are OBJECTIVELY the cutest thing in the entire universe anymore. Welcome to the real world cupcake.

[divinemissem13]

Happy New Year, friends!

If you prefer to just read on tumblr, full text is below the cut :)

It’s late when Beverly gets home from the New Year’s gala, although she still managed to make her escape before midnight. It’s no fun to be at the party at midnight when you have no one to kiss. Or, more accurately, when the person you want to kiss is lightyears away on some dumb diplomatic mission. 

Beverly sighs and kicks her high heels off, not really caring where they land. There’s no one but her to trip over them anyway. Even though they were both supposed to be on leave for the holidays, Starfleet had commandeered Kathryn shortly after Christmas dinner for an urgent mission to Q’onos that apparently only she could handle. Beverly has been in a funk ever since. 

She could have gone to the Chateau, but somehow it feels even stranger to be there without Kathryn than it does to be here in the San Francisco apartment that they share.

She pads toward the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine and wonders if Kathryn’s ship might be in comm range and she’s so caught up calculating distances and speeds that she almost doesn’t notice the soft music coming from the living room. 

It’s possible that she left something playing when she rushed out of the apartment earlier, running late as usual. But it sounds like Kathryn’s favorite holiday song, and that can’t be a coincidence can it? 

“Kathryn? Honey?” Beverly calls out tentatively, afraid to hope. She’s not supposed to be back until next week, after all.

There’s no answer, other than the muted sound of Bing Crosby crooning “I’ll be home for Christmas, if only in my dreams.” 

“Sounds about right,” Beverly mutters to herself and makes a quick detour to turn off the music that feels like it’s taunting her. 

The room is dark but there is enough light coming through the window that Beverly can find her way over to the phonograph and lift the needle. For a moment, everything is quiet.

A low, sleepy sounding voice that Beverly would recognize anywhere breaks the silence. “Hey, I was listening to that,” the voice mumbles, accompanied by the rustling of blankets from the couch as Kathryn sits up so that she is lit by the soft glow of the stars through the window. Beverly thinks she looks like a dream - and maybe she is - but then Kathryn smiles sleepily and says “Hi, Bevvy” and she knows she’s real because no one in her dreams calls her that, only Kathryn when she thinks she’s being cute (and she usually is).  

For a split second, Beverly can’t decide whether she is thrilled by her surprise or angry that Kathryn’s arrival had been kept a surprise in the first place… But joy quickly wins out and she launches herself toward the couch and lands right in Kathryn’s lap, grabs her face, and plants a big, sloppy kiss squarely on her lips. 

It takes another moment for Kathryn’s nap-addled brain to catch up but when she does, she returns the kiss with just as much fervor, gripping Beverly’s waist and pulling her closer with one hand as the other toys idly with the curtain of dark gray curls that seals them off from the rest of the world. 

Eventually, they have to come up for air, but they remain inside their cocoon with foreheads pressed together until Beverly starts gently demanding answers. “Not that I’m not happy to see you–”

“Yes, I noticed,” Kathryn teases as she tucks Beverly’s hair back so that she can start to nibble her ear. Beverly’s breath catches in her throat for a moment before she leans away from her distractor. Her curiosity demands satisfaction first. 

“When did you get back? I thought you’d be gone another week! Why didn’t you tell me you’d be done early? I could have met you at the transport station. Would have gotten me out of that dull Starfleet gala tonight,” Beverly rambles on until a grinning Kathryn puts a hand to her mouth to shut her up.

“In order: Less than an hour ago; Things went much more smoothly than expected; I wanted to surprise you; I transported straight here because if anyone knew I was home, we’d both have ended up at that gala and we’d still be there now,” She ticks each answer off on her fingers as she speaks and then leans in close to nuzzle Beverly’s nose and conclude with a conspiratorial whisper. “This is much better, don’t you think?”

“Infinitely,” Beverly hums against Kathryn’s lips and then resumes kissing them, more delicately but no less passionately than before. “Welcome home,” she murmurs between kisses as she gently guides Kathryn back onto the couch cushions, her long hair cascading around them like a cage that neither wants to escape from.

Somewhere in the distance, a church bell chimes midnight and popping fireworks welcome the new year. The fireworks light up the room in blues and reds and golds and if she were paying attention, Beverly might comment on how magical it all looks. But she is too busy enjoying her midnight kiss to notice.

[fandomthesickness]

So after 4+ years I've started writing fanfiction again

I wrote a quick sweet Sasaki to Miyano fanfic on ao3. Hope you enjoy!

[simp-ly-writes]

To Forgive, Is to Regret

─────── · · Hate the Love That Drives Ambition (pt.2)

Pairing: Father!Silco x Mother!Reader, Jinx & Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: When you thought to have rid yourself of Silco once again, he somehow always finds a way to come back and this time in the form of a blue-braided girl who is more determined than ever to have you all together.

─ · · TAGS: female pronouns used, reader called 'mom/mother,' angst, groveling, found family, fluff, miscommunication, blood and violence, hurt/comfort, alcohol and suicidal thoughts mentioned, swearing, happy ending, not beta read.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 4,185 | PART ONE

─ · · A/N: so proud of this fic, let me know if you enjoy! :)

─────── · ·

When Silco returned back to Zaun most people that saw him walking back to the Last Drop thought nothing of it with his long calculated steps and hardened glare. His coat flaps flying behind him in the wind as wisps of his breath exited his nose and rose up with the smog. But it was when he sat at his desk, cigar in one hand, knuckles turning white around a amber filled glass in the other, that Sevika could tell something was most certainly wrong with the man.

Sevika opened and then closed her mouth, thinking it better not to say anything in that moment. She listened as his foot tapped underneath the desk as he wore underneath his breath before flinging everything off his desk with the back of his hand, glass shattering against the floor.

The table groaned by the force in which he gripped the wood afterwards, hair falling down onto his forehead as his yellow eye twitched in pain.

Silco's mind raced with the image or your eyes burning hatred into his own, the unshed tears welling in your eyes before they couldn't stop. He felt the knife pushing past his skin, its cold exterior finding the warmth of your arms circling around his shoulders as you welcomed him before it became twisted, digging and scraping, he was bleeding, Silco felt sick as you shoved him away, kicking and yelling like he was the devil in everyone else's sight.

He remembers the feeling of your cheek in his palm, his fingers brushing past your quivering lip. He wanted nothing more than for you to grip his vest and wrap your legs around him with the same force you pushed him away with.

He wanted nothing more than to explain if he could have you physically but you did not even give him that. You shook your head, your son, our son, Silco corrected himself, his heart gripped so tight he felt sick, hunching over himself as he groaned. Cigar burning his fingertips as he closed his eyes tighter, no, you spoke so softly.

Yet such a simple word that he heard on the daily did nothing to compare when it came from between your lips as Silco's parted, murmuring what echoed through his head, no...

"No!" Silco yelled into the room as Sevika took a step back, trying to push herself into the darkness. lies- would love me, would protect me- lies!

I never meant to lie to you, if I had known a minute earlier... If I had known a minute earlier. Silco shook his head, trying to rid himself of the thought of seeing only your blood left on that sewer grate and the years of torture his imagination put him through thinking that his henchmen that turned to be rivals had done to you...

How your skin must have split, shattering its radiant glow. How your smile must have been cut by your screams, your bones broken alongside your hope, you disgust me. Silco groaned, hands shaking as he struggled to breathe before going into a fit of coughs.

Jinx sat upon open the rather's, her shoulders tense as she looked down at her father-figure in what looked to be a deep pain; something she understood deeply as she picked at the skin by her fingertips leaving just enough skin before they bled.

She had never seen Silco like this... so far gone and removed from himself. He was acting like a completely different person, muttering to himself, and is that a tear running down his eye? Jinx was concerned, the wood beam she sat upon groaning as she shifted her weight in contemplation of going down to greet he struggling man yet a knock at the door told her else wise.

The oxygen becomes thin in the room as the seconds tick over not slow enough. Silco nods his head towards the door, falling back into his chair and reigniting his cigar before looking up towards the ceiling where he catches a hint of blue.

Sighing he looks down to see who arrives seeing his contracted hitman turn in the men who had hunted you through the streets he had thought to have scared in order to keep you safe, you disgust me.

The scaled hitman opens his palm, demanding his payment as Sevika throws him a dufflebag of cash before the heavy oak doors slam closed. And with a calmness both women hadn't seen earlier, Silco stands up from his chair, tapping his cigar out before unbuttoning and rolling up his sleeves.

The ex-henchmen's eyes go wide with panic, they move their bound feet and hands frantically, trying to flee from Silco as he slowly walks over and stands before them both at his feet.

They watch as his head tilts, neck cracking with the side-to-side motion. A band over their mouths blocks their screams of their impending doom as Silco leans forwards, hair covering parts of his eye yet his yellow one glows through the darkness as he chuckles.

"You took everything from me," Silcos words echo throughout the room, softly spoken to hide the pain fluctuating in his words. He lets his words sit heavy in the room, falling and engraving themselves into their ears before all that can be heard his their screams calling out to Silcos heart.

Sevika shifts her footing, looking up to Jinx who blankly stares at the two dead figures in the office, her eye twitches before she jumps down watching as Silcos back tenses, shoulders rising and falling with his ragged breaths.

Grabbing a towel set down on an armchair, Silco cleans off the blood from his fingers tips slowly, watching them get clean before interlacing his fingers and closing his eyes, "one minute quicker, hm," he whispers underneath his breath before looking over his shoulder.

"Sevika?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Dispose of these corpses, burn them, throw them into the bay, I do not care- just be rid of them, " Silco demands, stepping over one of their legs before standing before Jinx who opens her arms in a silent ask before Silco sighs and gives her a hug.

Jinx can feel his tremors, his fingers shaking as they pick up a braid, "you know that I will protect you, always," Silco whispers into her hair and all Jinx can do is nod, her mind racing with scenarios to explain what just happened but she decides to save those questions for another moment as she waits for Silco to calm.

─────── · ·

"Let us take a walk," Silco says, appearing suddenly in Jinx's space a few days after the... event. She stands up abruptly, shutting down the music and nods violently before jogging after the man.

Silcos hand stay in the pockets of his jacket as he walks down through the streets and through the mist before standing above a drain cover. Jinx raises a brow, looking around the alleyway confused.

"Why are we here?" she asks, turning with a whistle as she kicks an empty trashcan, a rat scurrying away between her feet as her lip moves up, showing her teeth in disgust.

"Here is where I lost another part of myself, here it died," Silco states before crouching down to feel where he remembered your blood to have settled between its grooves. "But I though Vander tried to drown you in the bay?"

"That he did but he only killed a weak man then. Here is where I don't identify with the living any longer," Silco explains before standing to watch the confusion cloud over Jinx's features.

"I don't get it... are you like a cat with nine lives or some shit?" Jinx asks, taking a step closer to poke at the man with a smile yet all she receives is a bitter chuckle and dead stare forwards.

"Hm, no. You could have had a mother, you do have a mother, before the world had to take that away from us too. See that we can only trust in one another and if you were to kill me for whatever reason know that I would not blame you for there is little I could want now, even my own life," Silco spits out that last word with distaste as Jinx panics, hands stopping just before giving the man another hug.

"Why- why would you say something like that?!" Jinx cries, stepping back as she shakes her head. "I could have had a mom, how, what? Silco- I'm so confused..."

"I loved a woman- love a woman ever since I had known Vander. She reminds me much of yourself, bright, cheerful, intelligent and holds a wicked sense of humour. She could just stand there and you couldn't help but want to be near her... and then I... I killed her unknowingly... the men I had hired to protect her took her from me. Took the life away we could have had together as a family..." Silco turns around without another word, storming back to the Last Drop in need of another drink as Jinx watches him leave with a huff before reaching down to feel here Silco just touched.

"I'll find you," Jinx says with a determined tone to herself before standing back up and jogging to catch up with Silco.

─────── · ·

You stood in your apartment, a pot of stew boiling on the stovetop as you danced around to a record you had just bought. Your cat was sitting in their window box, tail swaying side to side with the beat as the setting sun illuminated the space in a golden glow.

A sudden turn of the front door had you smiling as you moved underneath the kitchen sink to dispose of your vegetable offshoots, "welcome back hun! I folded your laundry and dinner should be ready in five!"

You had heard no response, moving up swiftly and knocking your head against the countertop as you cursed, rubbing your scalp. To your surprise, your son, Rhyker was not there waiting for you at the dining table but a young woman around his age with two long braids that dragged across the floor.

How the fuck do people keep getting in? You ask yourself, picking back up that kitchen knife as you point it towards the younger woman. "And just who the fuck are you?" you question, the blade glimmering in the sunlight through the sheer blinds.

"I'm Jinx, pleasure to meet ya!" she says with a smile while opening her arms before stepping up to stand on the table, bending down to grab the knife out of your hand and to shake your other. "And now I'm gonna politely ask you to break-up with whatever 'hun' you have and come back with me!"

You stare at her, blinking and unmoving before furrowing your brows and tilting your head, "Is that a threat?" you ask in a calm tone, your patience reaching its breaking point after the week from hell you had experienced since Silco had decided to make a reappearance into your life. Rhyker had non-stop been asking questions every time he came home and every time you refused to answer he threatened to go and find his father and ask him himself.

You pinched your brow, trying to remove the oncoming headache as Jinx through the knife across the room without a second care and you did not even budge that had Jinx smiling. "I'll make it one if you don't start moving your top-side-ass to the door. I really need you to come with me, I mean I was used to his brooding and off-putting nature but now? Its a step to far, I mean, asking me to kill him? God, whatever you two must have done together must have been important for him..."

The door opens as Jinx's speech dies on her lips once seeing a younger Silco enter the door, "no fucking way," she mutters underneath her breath before leaving you in the dust to pick at your sons features and walk around his form.

"You look so much like him, holy shit!" the blue-haired woman says as you roll your eyes. "If Silco want anything to do with us, tell him this again for me, maybe it'll finally get through his thick skull, we are never coming back- not after what he did to me- to us!" you shout, picking up the knife once more as Rhyker rolls his eyes before setting down his bag. Not even sparing Jinx a second look before serving enough bowls for all three of you at the table.

"If you want answers, you might as well stay for dinner since I don't think my mom is letting us out of Piltover except in a bodybag," Rhyker explains without looking up from the pot as you and Jinx look between one another. This was going to be a long night...

─────── · ·

"So wait, let me get this straight, you and the old man were running Zaun and what? A little life or death scare and your out of it? I mean I at least die one a week, no wonder you are in Piltover you weak ass," Jinx says with a scoff before downing the rest of her second bowl of stew, "Great cooking by the way."

You return a scoff, picking up everyone's plates before moving back towards the sink. "When you get older... have a child... you tire more easily from that line- that at times, all you wish is to cross over rather than ride it," you explain.

"You sound just as depressing as Silco is, you two I would say are fucking perfect for one another," Jinx retorts, giving Rhyker a shove as he glares at her.

"No, that man has caused my mother nothing but pain. It was a mistake on my part going to look for him," Rhyker says, giving Jinx a shove back of her own as she miles wildly at him. "Well tinker-boy, know that me and your mom are heading back to Zaun tonight if you like it or not! I really need her, I mean Silco is ruining the business after he returned from whatever happened topside!"

"What? Did he finally feel the weight of his choices then? Good, then let him suffer as I did raising my boy by myself on the run and exhausted. If he can't last a few days then what good is he to me?" you retort, "I think it's time for you to leave."

"But!"

"No," Rhyker stands, looking down upon the blue-haired girl with a hardened glare. She can see Silco flashing in and out of her vision as she shakes her gaze clear and next thing she knows, she's being thrown out into the hall, the door locking behind her.

─────── · ·

Jinx stares at the closed door, giving it a solid kick before heading back to the Last Drop where Silco was already waiting for her in the lobby. "And where have you been, young lady?" Silco demands, kicking a shard of glass with his boot as both watch the pice shatter some more and scatter across the uneven floors.

"I went to go see, mom. She's really pretty, Silco! I have no idea how you pulled someone like her back in your days, I mean even her neighbour looked interested," Jinx says with a wide smile watching as Silcos eyes widen before hardening.

"What. did. you. just. say?" Silco asks again, annunciating every syllable.

"I. went. to. go. see. her." Jinx responds back before reaching over the bar to pour herself a glass of juice. "And just so you know, you son says 'hi'" With a echoing slurp, she sets her glass back down before giving Silco a pat on the back and running out the doors, "They're serving roast tomorrow!"

─────── · ·

Like clockwork, every night the blue-haired girl who you learned to be 'Jinx' shows up at your door and invites herself in for dinner. It takes weeks for you to finally warm up to her as Rhyker struggles with the concept of not having all your attention yet at the same time enjoys how much she seems to know about Silco without having to annoy you any longer.

You start to see her like your second child by the end of the mouth, making sure to buy foods she likes in the fridge and her favourite juice prepared as well for dinner. She helps you with the dishes afterwards, chatting to you (or sometimes at you), about how things are going in the Undercity as you nod along.

Her stories make you smile as she using her whole body to tell them, you love watching as Rhyker and Jinx share their sketchbooks and tech with one another on the living room carpet as you lean against a doorframe and observe them both, "do you two want some snacks?" you ask, looking at the time to be early morning hours yet nobody seems ready or really wanting to leave just yet- not even yourself from this moment.

Jinx nods enthusiastically as you laugh, her smile only growing from the sound as Rhyker throws a pillow at her before they both are play-fighting and tossing the couch contains everywhere before settling down for cheese and crackers. You nibble on some yourself, nodding along as they present to you their newest findings and next thing you know, you all are asleep in front of the fire that burns through to the next day.

When your eyes reopen you see Jinx staring down at you her hand hovers over your head as you reach up and hold her hand with a smile, "you are welcome to move in with us," you speak softly, not wanting to wake Rhyker up.

Jinx's eyes well with tears as she gives no reply but hugs you, gently before tightening as she sobs. You rub up and down her back, humming in her ear and rocking back in forth, "thank you," she whispers, closing her eyes to savour the moment as do you.

─────── · ·

Silco paced around his office, Jinx had not come back in days and every-person he hired to scout the undercity turned back without answers and empty handed. Sevika rolled her shoulders, "I could always look topside-"

"No. she wouldn't be there still, not unless..." Silco trails off before shaking his head and standing, Sevika beings to follow after him before he pauses, looking over his shoulder. "I should be good on my own, take the day off, If I do not return... know that you are left in charge-"

"Boss! I-" Sevika begins to plead, a part of her knowing how everything would turn tits up if he left.

"No, this is something I must do on my own for myself." And with that, he was gone from the shadows and emerged into the daylight, awaiting at your doorstep and surprised to see Jinx opening the door in fluffy pyjamas.

Silco glared, about to tell her, what if an officer was here instead? what if- "Don't worry, I knew that it was you at the door. Wouldn't have opened it otherwise, I know I'm still hot stuff up here now come in!" jinx opened the door that bit wider and Silco looked around the space in search for you.

"Mom-" Jinx's eyes widened alongside Silcos as they sat there in silence at the call of the title before Jinx continued, "Mom, won't be home until tonight. She's helping with one of Rhyker's school events."

Silco nods, closing the door behind himself and locking it before observing the various photos on the walls he didn't have a chance to the first time he visited. Only a visitor, Silco reminded himself as he set down a picture of you with a younger Rhyker in your arms with flowers in your hair.

You smiled widely in the photo as you did in each image, Silco watched as Rhyker grew up through them all before pausing at a smaller on on the mantel. It was you standing behind Jinx and Rhyker, your hands on their shoulders as they both looked up to you with smiles. Silco's heart ached, his fingers twitching to caress your face through the glass before falling back down to his side.

Jinx watched while rubbing her arm, "We hide that too anytime anyone comes over, I hide with Mr. Whiskers over here," Jinx explains, pointing to the cat now resting on her shoulders between her braids with a smile.

Silco observes how calm she appears, walking around the apartment and pouring out two glasses of water, "You know, I don't think I've ever been happier here. Sure I like walking around and shit and I do miss my stuff, and that drawing from Vi... and you and I guess Sevika couldn't give a shit but I miss her too and I just... I don't know."

Jinx can't explain what she feels when in the comfort of your home, of having a sibling that does annoy her yet also protects her, speaks with her and you... offering unconditional love, opening your home up to her even when she was connected with Silco. And maybe that was what made you offer it in the first place, that vision only your heart could see through its pain and torment just as Silco stood there in the Silence. Listening to how the tap dripped and the cat purred.

"I can see how it would be hard to leave, I do miss you back at home," Silco says yet hating the look of guilt that washes over her face. "Do not feel guilt, child, for living through happiness."

Jinx nods, "I have been having less... thoughts as well. I just, I don't want anything to ruin this."

"I know how you feel," Silco says, taking a seat at the table as Jinx does the same opposite of him. "Moms, not going to be happy when she see's you here," Jinx says watching as the cat hops down from the table to return to the sunlit windowsill.

Silco hums, disregarding Jinx's last words, "To love, is to hate. To forgive, is to regret, and when we face our reflections, we live wanting the past."

"Don't go speaking poetry on me again, old man. No wonder mom can't figure her feelings over you when you constantly speak in riddles!"Jinx ridicules, pointing a finger across the table as Silco shifts in his seat.

"I regret not following after your mother... of not taking a step away from my work to prioritize her. I was so focused on building our future, something I thought we both could be proud of. Yet my ambition drove through it all and now we are stuck here. It is no longer if Sevkia would have told me a minute earlier before the enforcers came- no. It was always me..." Silco sentence slows as he hears footsteps nearing. He is surprised to have not noticed the two people entering the room as Jinx smiles. Taking Rhyker by the arm and heading to his room as he shows her his newest robot.

Silco moves to stand before you place a hand on his shoulder, thumb rubbing at his back in a soothing motion. Silco reaches up, placing his hand atop your before picking it up and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

You both sit there in the silence that speaks greater than any words you both could come up with. Both of your life lines meeting at an intersection once more. You toy with us, picking up your other hand to feel the softness of his hair going through your fingers as Silco leans back so his head rests upon your chest.

"I don't know if I have it within myself to forgive the past you, Silco. But maybe I will be able to live with the new one," you explain, watching with a small smile how his eyes close from your touch as he murmurs back, "the old me died when I saw only your blood in that alleyway but my love will remain throughout the ages."

"I hope that love is something I don't have to count on again, Silco."

"You won't need to but only count on my actions."

"I hate that I have always loved you, Silco," you chuckle, beginning to pull away before Silco stands, stopping you as he pulls you into a hug, your head resting upon his chest, listening to how his heart beats in time with your own.

"Hate, love, all are the same at the end of the day as they both share passion at their core. All I want is you, your lips or your words placing stakes into my heart. Nothing of that matters as long as I have you. I love you, darling," Silco says, one hand cupping the back of your head, the other resting upon your lower back as you let out a breath.

"I love you too."

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: who doesn't love a happy ending 🥰

─ · · PART ONE

[seventhseian]

Thinking about Sae in an interview being asked about the one thing he likes the most in his life. He thinks carefully, going through the racks inside his brain to find atleast something that will suffice as an answer.

He goes back to every after practice where his muscles would feel sore with sweat glistening as it trails down his skin, and his dire need of rest after a hectic practice. Sae would open the door to your shared threshold and he'd take off his shoes to put on the shoe rack next to another that is yours. His bag will come to rest on the couch and he'll get rid of his shirt immediately to let off some steam. His feet would be light against the carpeted floors when he makes his way to the bedroom.

And there you will be, in all your glory with your casual panties paired with his shirts as you entertain yourself with whatever while you wait for your boyfriend to come home.

It only dawns at Sae in the middle of an interview that's being broadcasted live worldwide that the one thing he likes─love─the most in his life is having been given the privilege to come home to you every single day.

But he doesn't answer this, wanting to keep such a fond moment to himself, and because nobody really knew that he had a girlfriend waiting for him at home. So instead of sharing it, Sae answers soccer.

[wntrswolf]

an arsonist's lullaby

✧ pair: benjicot "davos" blackwood (fancast) x freader!targaryen

✧ theme/warning(s): dark, heavy angst turned fluff — tw: mentions of hallucinations, anxiety / progressive panic attack(s). + all characters are of age! (18+) | contains hotd spoilers!

✧ word count: 2.7k

✧ a/n: this one-shot is a gift for @ithilwen-blackwood! firstly, thank you for tagging me on your request! it sparked a drive in me that i thought had left years ago, i had a great pleasure writing this one. secondly, given the prompt, i hope you, and the other pretty readers, enjoy reading my version. c: thank you!!!

✧ summary: to dream is to escape, granting a momentary nirvana as one falls into the refuge of imagination. yet, for the princess, a night in the supposedly cursed fortress of the riverlands, dreams became not mere fantasies but glimpses of destiny that would seal unwritten fate.

Daemon’s voice roars in the vastness of the dining hall. “We shall make camp before night falls. Come the morrow’s light, we resume our travels. See to it you are rested, we have yet a journey ahead of us.” Your father meets your gaze and nods solemnly, signalling his dismissal. You return the gesture with a faint smile, acknowledging his silent command to depart.

The murmurs of the troop swelled, each hastening to claim their place within the grim walls of Harrenhal. You remained steadfast, observing the weariness that were etched on the faces of the scrambling men around you. Gradually, the ache in your body began to throb, a reminder that the arduous journey had also taken its toll on your body. Despite the envy others held with their perceptions, it was not an easy task being a dragon rider—for an adult dragon, it was a feat far from simple.

Celestrya, much like her namesake, is a magnificent dragon. Her iridescent scales of aquamarine and amethyst create a mesmerising display of colours as she glides through the heavens. Yet, behind the deceptive beauty of your winged serpent lies a stubborn and formidable nature. Beneath her elegant appearance lies a fierce determination and commanding presence that demands respect from all who crossed her path. 

Your gaze swept the hall a final time, assuring all was in order before you sought your own repose. However, capturing your attention was the distorted shadow that stood by the hearth. The wavering figure you always came to see ensnared you yet again with its haunting presence, engulfing you in its deafening whispers. As was your custom, you sought to evade the encroaching darkness, only to collide with another in your haste escape. Unaware you had been holding your breath, you gasped heavily, abruptly jolting back to reality.

“Princess,” the young man spoke, “my apologies.” The firm grasp on your arms steadied you, preventing any falter, while your palms pressed against his chest. Slightly breathless, your eyes scanned for the shadow that had mysteriously disappeared.

“Princess?”

You hummed in response, your voice barely above a whisper, “Oh, my apologies.” You steadied your breathing, glancing up at the young man to realise the close proximity between you. In a moment of fluster, you withdrew from his grasp. 

“No,” he says as he scratched behind his head, “the fault lies with me. I failed to watch my path.” his cheeks tinged with embarrassment. As you regain your composure, you recognise the young man before you as belonging to House Blackwood, evident from his attire and the sigil pin securing his burgundy-black cape.

“Should my father and I be concerned, then?” you quipped with a nervous chuckle escaping your throat, eager to lighten the mood of the exchange and conceal your own tension. Playing with the thread on your dress—a familiar nervous tic—you continued, "I mean, a lapse in attention seems trivial, but in these times of impending war, every misstep carries weight.” a subtle smile gracing your lips. 

He responds with a nervous chuckle, striving to maintain his composure. "Forgive me, my lady, but I assure you, House Blackwood stands ready for whatever battles may come—and I have seen to it myself.” He spoke his words earnestly, eyes reassuring you that he indeed spoke truth—a revelation of his confidence in both his army and himself.

You chuckle.

“It was but a jest,” you offered him a warm smile, "Nonetheless, I am heartened to hear of your preparations. I believe our houses make a strong alliance, Sir…” 

“Benjicot Blackwood, my lady.” 

“Ah, the Lord of Raventree.” you acknowledged respectfully. “I extend my deepest sympathies, and I thank you for standing as a stalwart ally in our cause. It means much to us.”

“Thank you, my lady. If anything, it is an honor.” 

“Daenyra,” you replied softly, setting aside formalities in the presence of the young Lord.

What had prompted this departure from convention? You did not know. Could it be that despite his fierce demeanour, you saw a glimpse of vulnerability? his vulnerability. Perhaps you saw in him a fledgling lord who had witnessed the brutal toll of conflict—on his kin, his men, and even those he had been compelled to confront in his duties. A fledgling thrusted into authority unexpectedly—an experience you both share.

“It has been a long day,” you continued with a chuckle, “I believe I have had my fill of the formalities for now," feeling your nerves starting to settle.

“Of course, my la–” he began, but stopped short under your playful glare, “Ahem, Daenyra… Daenyra.” His voice softened, the repetition of your name becoming more natural on his tongue. The young man had uttered your name many a time, yet with your insistence that he address you by your name, simply your name, made him feel acknowledged.

You both chuckled. 

“Although, pardon the intrusion, I hope it does not mean to offend,” he continued cautiously, “but were you alright? When I bumped into you, you—” 

He had.

He had noticed. 

“Princess Daenyra,” a slender, raven-haired woman called out, interrupting your exchange with the Blackwood Lord. You thanked her mentally; wondering if it was deliberate or mere happenstance, but chose not to dwell on it. Turning towards the woman who commanded your attention, you were immediately captivated by her mystical aura and hauntingly beautiful features. “The camp is set. We shall have you escorted to your quarters.” she announced, her sharp blue eyes locking intensely with yours, leaving an impression that lingered in your mind. 

“Yes, of course,” you breathed, turning to the young Lord, prepared to bid him goodnight. “I apologise, Lord Benjicot–”

“Benji,” he corrected in haste. You were slightly taken aback, finding the informality endearing—as it reflected your own.

“I apologise, Benji. It has indeed been quite a journey, and we are weary and in need of rest,” you replied, your nervous tic making a subtle appearance again. Glancing around, you realise that it was just you, Benji, and a few other swordsmen left in the dining hall. With a slight huff, you added, “I shall see you in the morn, then?”

“Y-yes… my lady– D-Daenyra…” he stuttered, inwardly chagrined at his stumble. Despite his embarrassment, you bestowed one last smile and nod before pivoting on your heel, the echoes of your departing footsteps fading gradually into the distance.

In your absence, he chastised himself that his worry might have gotten the best of him; it was ridiculous, really.

After all, you were a Targaryen Princess, the sole daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen, with the pure blood of the dragon coursing your veins. You inherited the ruthless and intense nature of your father, feared in combat where no man ever survived your blade. Needless to mention of the adult dragon under your command, the beast could devour him and his entire retinue, and would still be insatiable.

But amid the thoughts, he saw something in you that he could not quite describe—perhaps the sight of your gentle hands fidgeting, a stark contrast to the image of a warrior who must have slain a thousand men by now, he reckoned.

Reflecting on the moment of your collision, he realised that you, too, were simply a young woman—a lady of his own age—navigating a world fraught with responsibilities imposed by the realm. And now, on the march, leading an army of men to fight against the usurpers, and reclaim the justice that your mother, the Queen, had lost.

A familiar whistle—a melody only his dear aunt used—pierced through his thoughts, instantly capturing his attention, “Let us retire for the night, yea?” Her thumb gesture over her shoulder as she looked at him expectantly. 

"Yeah... yeah," the young man nodded, shaking his head to clear his thoughts as weariness settled in.

Perhaps he was simply tired, allowing himself to dwell on thoughts that were not his to ponder. The princess was more than capable of defending herself, even from a lord she had met that night.

And still, he did. 

It was still the dead of night, you surmised. The clamouring assembly that would rouse you from slumber had yet to commence, awaiting for the break of morn. Pain gnawed through every fibres of your being; the harsh, cold surroundings of Harrenhal offered no respite from your discomfort. Your gaze fixed on the patterns of the canopy you lie beneath, the soft patter of rain acting as your lullaby. You closed your eyes as you sought after slumber once more.

Without success, you shifted uncomfortably in the makeshift mattress, propping yourself up on the firm pillows that offered little comfort. 

You sigh.

To your confusion, a sudden breeze rustled the entrance flaps of your tent, the fabric dancing along the gentle gusts. Goosebumps prickled your skin as you hear the familiar whispering—voices that haunted you time and time again; yet, it would be the first time you heard it spoke your name, 

“Daenyra…” 

You sucked in a breath, the thump in your chest increasing its tempo. The phantom’s whispers are heard beyond the refuge of your tent. Your palm dampens with cold sweat, as terror etched itself onto your features. 

Despite the urge of pursuit, fear had kept you in its confines, afraid of probing what had lurked in the darkness—in fear that the spectre that observed you would swallow you with its frightening taunts.

Or could it be an ambush? A ploy orchestrated by the Greens. A sorceress used to alter the perceptions of the formidable princess of the realm—a plausible explanation, is it not?

The vendetta within your family: Retaliation.

An eye for an eye.

A son for a son.

They would just simply have to seize the moment, right when you are in your defenceless trance.

‘Ambush the Blacks, slay the princess and prince consort while abed, and we make the Blackwoods bend the knee to the rightful heir,' you reckon they thought.

An absurd, petty measure, but an irrefutable one closer to a checkmate. 

Nevertheless, a ruse as such would never come to pass—existing only in the realm of imagination.

You were torn between fears: a haunting apparition or mortal hands that could lead to your demise.

Your conscience came to a ground that despite the fear residing in your bones, an audacious drive took over you to follow the bewitching voice. 

The ominous sight of the empty hall sent a chill in your spine, dim candles and occasional flashes of lightning provided sparse light amid the storm. You held the lantern, a guiding luminance, close to your body to warding off the encroaching darkness and hoped that the flame would not cease; and your other hand grips tightly by the hilt, wielding your sword.

Guided by the mystic call once more, you prudently tread your way within the ruin.

“Daenyra…” The voice growing clearer and louder with each step.

“Daenyra…” Again. 

“Daenyra…” Your breath grew ragged and shallow. Panic gripping your chest like a vise, squeezing air out of your lungs. 

It was not until you reached the grand iron doors that you realised where it led you—the dining hall. Thrusting open the heavy door, it creaked loudly. Once again, you were confronted with the shadow by the fire—the sight intensifying your fear, quickening your heart. 

“Daenyra…” The once-unrecognisable voice now rang clear, luring you towards the flame.

You approached the hearth cautiously, a sense of foreboding thickening the air as the shadow dissipated. The crackling of the fire seemed to roar in your ears, the blaze casting its orange hue upon you and its warmth seeping into your body. Entranced, your brow furrowed as you stared into the flickering flames. 

The voice spoke yet again, shifting to that of your weeping mother, calling out your name.

Your body tensed, skin tingling as if touched by flames.

"Mother?" you breathed out.

Suddenly, within the flames you hear wails of anguish as a hand emerges from the flames. With a sense of charmed urgency, you cried out and reached for the hand, the flare enveloping yours with a searing kiss.

Agh!

Recoiling, overwhelmed by the blinding flash of pain, you collapsed to your knees. Your sword dropping with a clatter as the haunting echoes of voices reverberated louder than ever in your mind:

That of the cries of babes, blood-curdling screams, galloping horses, agonising shouts of a thousand men, clashes of metal, thunderous roars of dragons and fire, and in the haze, unintelligible murmurings. 

“No… no… no,” you whispered, each heartbeat echoing like thunder in your ears,

THUMP

THUMP

THUMP

The dining hall began to close in around you, the heat becoming overbearing.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trembling hands covering your ears in a desperate attempt to silence the chaos consuming you.

“Daenyra…” It cried.

“Make it stop…” you pleaded, rocking back and forth. The sword lay forgotten on the stone floor, and the lantern burnt out, its presence unnoticed in the turmoil. 

“Daenyra…” It cried out again.

“Please…” 

“Daenyra?” A male voice softly whispered to you, gently shaking you from repose. “Dae–”

You woke with a sharp breath, a sob escaping your throat.

The dark figure hovering over you prompted a renewed wave of anxiety as you sat up abruptly, causing the figure to topple back. Your eyes darted around in fear, spotting a dagger that sits on the foot of the mattress, you still as dread overcame your body—unable to muster a shout or a scream.

It was not until the soft glow of candlelight illuminating the dishevelled form of the Blackwood male that you realised you had emerged from sleep. You watch the young man in confusion as he had been hovering over you while you were abed, his blade just within reach. 

“B-Benji?” you croaked out as your chest heaved with staggered breaths. Your hair stuck to your tear-stained face, glistening beads of sweat lining your neck and chest. Trembling hands grasped onto his arm. 

“Princess,” his velvet voice replied gently, “Forgive me, my tent neighbours yours,” his eyes locked onto yours, “I could not find rest. I-I remained awake, but I heard sobs and…” 

You release a breath of relief that had been caught in anxiety.

“T-Thank you,” you uttered, meeting his gaze gratefully. For a moment, the tension in the air begins to ease. “For waking me up.” you added with a slight nod, your breath steadying in his reassuring presence.

Benji's expression softened, his gaze tender and unwavering as he, hesitant at first, gently wiped a stray tear from your cheek. "'Tis nothing," he murmured softly.

You offered him a faint smile, your hands working to compose yourself from your unsettled state.

Just a night’s terror.

Sighing softly, you wiped your palms over your face, hoping to dispel the lingering fatigue that still weighed upon your body.

At that moment, Benjicot hesitated, unsure whether to depart now that you had acknowledged his role in rousing you from the terror. Despite this, he remained seated with you in the hushed confines of your tent. His concern, which had grown since your exchange late last night and continued into the early hours of the dark morn, stirred his curiosity about your well-being before your unexpected encounter.

The fragility in your voice shattered the pregnant silence, “I…” you chuckled softly, airily. “I– I don’t know what I saw,” you admitted softly, voice slightly trembling.

“All I know is that it felt… real." you said pensively, unconsciously playing with a loose thread on the quilt that covered you. "It sounded so real.” your voice barely above a whisper.

Noting your nervous tic, “Dreams can be cruel,” Benji spoke. You watch as his hands gently took hold of yours, his thumb brushing soothingly over the backs of your hands—the gesture fluttering your heart. “But they are also just dreams, m’ lady.” he reassured with a smile.

He continued ever so delicately, "I too face the same darkness. You are not alone.” he whispered, his eyes locked with yours.

His words enveloped you in comfort, as did his mere presence—offering solace with each reassuring word and gentle touch.

You found yourself instinctively seeking if he would become a comforting constant in your moment of vulnerability. You long for his warmth, a feeling you had already sensed from the young man, since the previous night's encounter. 

“Stay… will you?” you whispered, your hands nestled in his, a self-conscious gaze falling to your lap.

He tightened his grip slightly, offering you a comforting squeeze. "As my princess commands," he replied softly, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

a/n: soooo how was it? i feel like i rambled a bit too much in my writing. my brain went haywire since i wanted to add everything i thought of (ideas were popping up left n right up n down) but i added what i could: character cameos, witch's hallucination vs dragon dream??? hihihihi anyways! do not hesitate to comment ur thoughts, i appreciate reading them! ♡

[general-dweebous]

concept: Gale Dekarios abruptly kissing you as a way to “blend in” / hide your faces from Bad Guys™️ passing by

follow up concept: he blushes and stutters an apology as he goes to explain but you hush him by saying “just to be safe…” before pulling him back down to you and kissing him again

bonus content: he holds your face in his hands and the two of you are just full on making out now

more bonus content: someone from the group comes up trying to say the coast is clear, and Gale frantically waves his arm at them as if to shoo them away without ever breaking the kiss

[mrsjellymunson]

Start Something

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: Eddie helps you generate a new D&D character, but that’s not the only thing that gets started that day

WC: ~2.5k

C/W: 18+, MDNI! NSFW? Physical flirting and teasing, heavy petting, sort of in public (nobody notices). Smut-adjacent? Thigh riding. Swearing. Nothing overly explicit, but it does get heated. Eddie and reader are both over 18. Trope: oh no, there aren’t enough seats, where will you sit? No y/n, one pet name. No physical descriptions of reader other than she wears a skirt (of unspecified appearance).

A/N: Should I be working on parts for my outstanding series? Yes. Would this not leave me alone until I wrote it down? Also yes. I had fun creating a new character in a different RPG and I have no idea whether this is how D&D works, so if it’s not, let’s just pretend, okay? 😆 Text dividers by @strangergraphics Dice dividers by me 🫣☺️

I have a general taglist now, let me know if you’d like to be on it 🖤

My masterlist

Eddie can’t believe his luck. You’re pretty (gorgeous, actually), insanely intelligent and have, for some as yet indecipherable reason, decided that you want to play D&D. With a load of nerdy teens. And him.

You’ve joined in with a couple of short campaigns at school, seeming to enjoy them immensely and fitting in well with the group, bantering with the boys and bonding with Erica over your shared ‘take no shit’ attitudes. At first Eddie wasn't sure how that dynamic would work, but you slipped easily into letting the younger girl show you the ropes, and Erica is clearly enjoying having more female energy around.

Eddie knows that creating a new character is one of your favourite things to do. He’d never admit it, but it’s one of his favourite things to watch, too. He adores the sparkle in your eyes, your creative brain and how excited and animated you get when you come up with new ideas. Sometimes they’re sketchy, or even impossible, which he finds hugely endearing. He also loves how you’ll always check in with him, asking his advice and respecting his opinion.

This weekend he’s running a oneshot at his trailer for the younger members and you. New characters, novel plot, the works. The plan is to create new characters in the morning, and play the game in the afternoon.

This’ll be the first time you’ve been to his home, or seen him anywhere outside of school, and Eddie’s nervous as all fuck.

He couched it as ‘a good opportunity to develop a greater understanding of the game’, but he definitely has an ulterior motive for inviting you here.

So far, he’s taken every opportunity he can to make you laugh, sit near you, even touch you. Creating scenarios where a subtle hug, or even a playful tickle is somehow appropriate. He covers it quickly by immediately doing it to someone else, hoping you won’t spot the bulge in his pants and the fact that he can’t stop looking at you.

He’s not sure for how long he can keep it up. He wants so much more, and it won’t be long before he either loses it, takes it too far, or, worst case scenario, you notice he’s being a total creep and ditch the group because of it.

He’s been trying to muster the balls to ask you out for weeks, practicing lines and imagining scenarios, but he’s found it more difficult to plan than even the most complex of his campaigns.

And although it’s unlikely given the crowd of nerds that’ll be around, he couldn’t miss an opportunity to be in your company. He thought that maybe, just maybe, he’d manage to get you somewhat alone and do it today.

He’s tidied up the trailer as subtly as he can, doing all the dishes and straightening Wayne’s caps, hoping the others won’t notice and ask him awkward questions. But he’s jittery and anxious, terrified that you’ll take one look at where and how he lives and decide you want nothing more to do with him…

Eddie has no idea that you’re just as nervous as he is.

You’ve enjoyed the Hellfire campaigns so far, but haven’t really managed to get all that close to the Dungeon Master, much to your chagrin. Sure, the game is enormous fun and you love all the members and how welcoming they’ve been. But the DM? Holy hell, he’s hot as sin, and being able to spend time around the larger-than-life metal-lover only adds to your enjoyment of the sessions. But you can’t imagine it’ll ever go any further than that. You doubt that a geeky D&D novice who he’s hardly spoken to is his idea of the perfect girlfriend…

But god, the physical touches? Christ. It’s as much as you can do to hold it together. You’ve shared a few celebratory hugs, and he’s even tickled you a couple of times, all of which you’ve enjoyed far more than you’d let on, and filed away in your memory for retrieval when you’re alone at night in your bed. But you know that he’s like this with everyone, and are under no illusions that you’re special. So you relish each and every contact, wishing there could be more.

What if he looks at you for too long with those gorgeous, huge, chocolate-brown eyes? And what if you forget how to speak? It’s already happened an embarrassing amount of times, but you’ve managed to pass it off as being stumped because you’re a beginner. You don’t know for how much longer that excuse is gonna fly.

And, if all that wasn’t already enough to send your anxiety levels skyrocketing, you’re also acutely aware that you haven't spent time with any of the group outside of school as yet. You’re worried that you’re going to ruin their social dynamic, or mess up the game. Or embarrass yourself with no easy way to exit, having to wallow in your shame until the mums come back later to pick you all up. Your spiralling makes you realise that although it was really kind of Mrs Wheeler to offer you a lift, you’re now really wishing you’d brought your own car…

All kinds of anxious thoughts are running through your mind, from what if your ideas are stupid, to what if everyone (okay, specifically Eddie) dislikes the cookies you’ve baked??

Neither of you should’ve worried.

As you enter his trailer, Eddie seems a little flustered, running a ringed hand through his gorgeous chestnut waves and unnecessarily straightening a pile of magazines on the coffee table. He smooths down his (new) black tee (that he totally didn’t buy especially for this occasion), and you pay it no mind, assuming he’s just always like this with visitors, and is excited for the campaign.

You barely glance around Eddie’s home, smiling softly at the trinkets you spot, and offering to help plate up the snacks in the kitchen area. You don’t look uncomfortable, and you certainly don’t pass judgment. Eddie eyes you as indirectly as he can, noticing the unusual skirt you’ve got on (that you totally totally didn’t choose specifically for today). He likes it.

Just like at school, you slot easily into the melee of pencils, paper, dice and snacks. Everyone loves your home baked cookies, including Eddie, and Erica even badgers you for the recipe.

Eddie thinks you couldn’t be any more perfect.

You think this isn’t so bad after all, and relax a little.

The morning’s character building is going well, the fact that it’s a oneshot not diminishing anyone’s efforts or attention to detail.

You still haven’t quite got the hang of the dice and numbers parts, always asking for Eddie’s help with that. His help, not any of the others, he muses with a certain amount of pride and delight. (Selfishly, part of him secretly hopes you never get the hang of it, and will always need to seek his input.)

With you now added to the group, there aren’t enough seats at Eddie’s modest dining table. Nobody notices. Initially Dustin and Will are deep in a discussion on Eddie’s battered sofa, and Mike and Lucas are rifling through the fridge, both at that ‘hollow legs’ stage of teen development and constantly ravenous.

Your character’s almost done, and you just want to clarify a few things, so you ask across the table,

“Eddie? Can I bring this over for you to check please?”

He waves you over, putting on a fake English accent and saying,

“Of course you may, my dear. You know I’m always happy to assist my flock.”

You chuckle lightly at his endearing foolishness as you get up from your place next to Erica, taking your character sheet over to Eddie for his perusal. Behind you, the younger players all convene at the table to share their progress, and all the seats become filled.

With no free spots near him, and assuming you won’t be here for long, Eddie pats his leg absentmindedly and says, “Sit here, lemme see.”

You end up on his lap, facing sideways at ninety degrees.

You initially turn towards him and bring your sheet between you, but there’s not enough room for him to properly examine it, so you turn the other way and lay it on the table in front of him, turning so your back is to him, your legs straddling one of his knees. He leans forward and begins to check it over, confirming some details and asking for more particulars on others.

Eddie’s been admiring your enthusiasm and level of engagement all morning, and he’s impressed by the depth of information you’ve already managed to accumulate.

You’re absorbed with your new character, getting excited and gesticulating wildly. Ideas bounce easily between you and Eddie, his face smiling softly and his dimples popping as he gets to see you like this.

It doesn’t escape him, however, that you’re also bouncing on… him. He flushes a little, and hopes you don’t perceive it.

As you gesture at a particularly thorny issue on your paper, it dawns on Eddie exactly what parts of you are in contact with him, albeit through multiple layers of fabric. The softness of your thighs and the heat from your core against his leg fully absorb him for a moment, and he has to ask you to repeat yourself. You don’t seem to mind, assuming it was the general clamour in the room that meant he couldn’t hear you. That same clamour covers the sound of him awkwardly clearing his throat and gulping loudly.

It occurs to him that he’s never experienced anything… like this. Occasional hookups in the woods or after gigs at The Hideout are great and everything, but he’s never before felt like he has a literal, real-life angel sitting on his lap.

And you? You are slowly realising how nice Eddie��s lap feels beneath you. It’s warm and solid, and the denim of his dark jeans feels pleasantly rough on the skin of your legs where your skirt’s ridden up. There’s a pressure against your most intimate areas that’s generating a warm feeling of pleasure in your core. You’re trying to concentrate, but it’s not easy.

It takes a few more moments for you to catch up to where Eddie is, and you register that you’re essentially riding Eddie’s thigh each time you move.

Your lips roll inwards and you swallow deeply, closing your eyes for a moment, trying to compose yourself. It doesn’t help, and only serves to focus your attention even more fully on the delicious sensations beneath your legs. This is the closest you’ve ever been to your Dungeon Master, and for the longest time. And you can’t help how flustered it’s making you.

Embarrassed, you cough and go to stand, but quickly see that there’s nowhere for you to go. Eddie scans the room and notices your predicament, and, in a broken voice that’s almost unbearably soft, tells you, “It’s okay, Princess. You can stay here.”

Fuck. A pet name? You enjoyed that, perhaps a little too much. If you were being rational you could put it down to Eddie referencing your new character, who happens to be an aristocratic mage. But right now? Right now, you’re not feeling particularly rational.

You slowly sit back down, but as you do so Eddie shifts his position, causing you to spread your knees a bit wider than they were and land further up his leg, giving you even more contact with his thigh. You hope he didn’t hear the broken little hum that escaped you.

Eddie leans forward and in a voice that’s far too quiet, and far too close to your ear, he asks, “Are you… okay?”

You can barely breathe, and all you can manage in response is a tiny, squeaked, “Mhm.”

Behind you, Eddie takes a stuttering breath in, letting it out slowly before he resumes discussions with everyone else at the table.

You each become more unfettered as the morning progresses. Further not-so-accidental encounters only serve to increase the tension between you both.

At one point, you lean forwards over the table to get one of the manuals, lifting your butt from his leg. For a moment you hope there won’t be a visible wet patch on your skirt, or on his jeans. But then you wonder whether it would actually be so terrible if there was, and whether it would actually be so terrible if Eddie saw…

Eddie saw. He hums slightly, but it sounds more like a whimper, and he attempts to cover it by clearing his throat for the umpteenth time today.

He wonders whether you’re doing this on purpose, whether you have any idea what you’re doing to him.

As you settle back onto his thigh, one of Eddie’s hands travels to your hip, holding it lightly, just resting it there. A fire travels up that entire side of your body.

You wonder whether he’s doing this on purpose, whether he has any idea what he’s doing to you.

He leans forward to reach for something on the table, and this time brushes his chest against your back for far longer than is necessary. You feel his breathing against your neck speeding up, hot gasps coming from between his lips instead of controlled outbreaths through his nose.

You reach for a die, and as you sit back you half-intentionally push your core down onto Eddie’s leg just a little bit harder. God, he feels so good. And so what if you’ve moved backwards slightly, so your thigh is even further between his legs, and your butt nudges his crotch?

You definitely feel something hard pressing against your ass. The grip on your hip tightens, and Eddie dips his head forward to hide his face and stifle a moan. Christ.

You think you hear him mumble a quiet and stilted, “Sh-it.”

Eddie can barely contain himself, this morning not going at all how he could’ve even dreamed. He had no idea whether you even liked him, and was planning to sound you out and maybe manage to ask if you wanted to do something cheesy like grab milkshakes sometime.

Having you hot and wet on his lap wasn’t even on the edges of the outside of the periphery of his radar. He’s really trying to keep it together, but he’s barely maintaining a grip on his actions.

Attempting to focus, he leans forward again to explain a character point. You turn your head and look into his eyes attentively, whilst simultaneously rocking your hips ever so subtly and chewing on the inside of your bottom lip.

All at once, something shifts. Something big.

Eddie holds your gaze for way too long. Or maybe you hold his.

Maybe it doesn’t matter anymore, as you both silently acknowledge that there’s way more going on here than simple D&D advice.

Simultaneously, you both come to realise that your affections are most definitely reciprocated.

Shit, he likes me.

Fuck, she likes me back.

And then, as your eyes are locked and he sees your pupils blow wide, Eddie loses that tenuous grip.

Suddenly, both of his hands come to your hips, and he presses his forehead against one of your shoulder blades. He grips you tightly and moves you back and forth against him, squeezing, pulling, pushing, dragging. He’s keeping his movements as tiny as possible so as not to rouse the attention of the group, but what he lacks in expansiveness he more than makes up for with strength and intensity.

You think this might genuinely be the most erotic thing you’ve ever done with your clothes on. You’re hot and wet, and you barely care that you’re in a room full of people, supposedly playing a nerdy game.

Eddie keeps moving you. One exquisite movement spreads your sopping folds in your underwear, and your mouth drops open in a gasp, hand gripping the edge of the rickety table. You try to disguise your movements by shoving the end of a pencil into your mouth and hunching over your paperwork.

Eddie totally notices, and stills you. His warm palms continue to press against your hips, his strong fingertips digging into your flesh. Instead of continuing the back and forth movements, he pulls you down as hard as he can onto his lap whilst outwardly retaining his composure, turning the garbled sounds coming from his throat into encouraging noises for the group.

The two of you can barely focus anymore. Eddie hasn’t let his hands travel anywhere above the tabletop, lest his actions be seen by the others, but if your expression is even half as flustered as Eddie’s is red, somebody is going to notice something. And soon.

You take a couple of deep, steadying breaths.

You’ve already completed your character, so you decide to do a faux check in with Eddie, asking, not entirely innocently,

“Eddie? Is there anything else you’d want me to… take off?”

Turning, you add, even less subtly,

“What should I do now, Master?”

Eddie’s face screws up and his jaw clenches, and you feel the rock of his hips as he bucks his hips up underneath you, pressing his hardness into your flesh and muffling a grunt into your shoulder.

His head snaps back up suddenly and his voice becomes clear and piercing, as he inhales quickly and declares to the room, waving a hand,

“Okay, lunchtime! Everybody out!! You guys need some fresh air and I need a break. I don’t wanna see you for at least an hour, and you’d better come back with pizza! Goddit?”

The teens comply, bustling out the door, a few of them eye-rolling and grumbling something about how this is almost like being at home with their parents.

They’re still leaving as Eddie moves his face so close to you that you can feel his breath in your hairline, and his soft, pink lips tickle the edge of your ear.

In a low, velvety voice, he murmurs, in a tone that’s somehow both challenging and pleading,

“Please Princess, turn around and say that to my face...”

You smirk, and reach behind you to pick up a D12.

With all the sultriness you can muster, you raise your eyebrows and indicate for him to take it. He opens his hand, and you place it down, the tips of your fingers lightly skimming the hot, damp skin of his palm.

Looking into his eyes again, you’re relieved to discover that your power of speech remains entirely intact, as you murmur, with more confidence than you thought you possessed,

“Okay, Master. How about this? You roll, and the result is how many kisses you have to give me...”

Eddie swallows and almost chokes, sitting up straight and gently lobbing the die across the mess of paper and writing implements. His chocolate eyes don’t leave yours as it rolls and comes to a stop in the centre crease of one of his manuals. He struggles with the internal conflict of never wanting to break your gaze and a deep desire to check the number.

He has no idea where the rest of today, let alone this, is going, and he’s grateful he has at least the next hour in which to find out. But he does know one thing:

He’s never been so desperate to roll a 12 in his entire fucking life.

Thanks so much for reading!

(This might become part of an anthology of D&D-related adventures - let me know if you’d like to see more!)

Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed this, it’s honestly like throwing breadcrumbs and roses for your writers 😃🥰

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[whorediaries-09]

Sirius Black with a breeding kink where he goes 'spread your legs wider.' ???? For kinktober!!!

hello i'm foaming at the mouth??

i'll hold my breath;

pairing- sirius black x reader warning(s)- 18+ content, mentions of injury. a/n- i wrote this with older sirius in mind. ya'll can think whatever you want to.

prompt- breeding + 'spread your legs wider'

the diner. kinkotober masterlist. kinkotober rules

it feels like there's no one in the world. it feels like the world is silent. and you appreciate it. you don't want this moment to be gone. you want to stay in this state forever, his arm wrapped around you. his touch serene. the touch that lingers, crawls under your skin. it kisses your soul from the inside.

it's intimate.

he's got you as close as humanly possible. you like to think it's because he doesn't want to lose you. and maybe it's true. you had seen the sheer panic in his eyes when you'd knocked at his door, bloodied, defeated and escaped from endless hours of copious torture from your captivators.

he held you as you cried. he held you, bandaging up your wounds. his usually stable hands shaking as they held you. he kissed you for the first time. he told you he was afraid of losing you.

you'd held his hand, nudging his forehead with yours, breathing heavy against his mouth. you told him that he wasn't going to lose you anytime soon. you intended to stay.

he told you he loved you. he told you he loves you.

you drew circles on his cold palm. truth be told, the idea of losing him was just as haunting. the idea that you could've lost him before you even had him haunted you. you needed to feel that he'd be by your side. you needed to know that you weren't going to lose him anytime soon.

you turned around under the sheets, cupping his face with your bandaged hand. you stared at his pale, porcelain skin. the stubble on his cheeks. the soft dimple on his left cheek. under the glow of the shattered moonlight you saw him glow.

'sirius,' you whispered, the sudden covet too deep. you yearned for him, you yearned for his assurance. that he was there. that he was going to be there. that you weren't going to lose him anytime, ever.

his eyelashes fluttered before he opened his eyelids.

'yes, my love? are you hurt?' he asked, feeling the coarse fabric of the bandage with his fingers.

'no,' you said. you weren't. how could you be? he was finally yours. but you needed to know he was yours.

'i just...' you sighed, stopping mid-way.

'yes?' he asked, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear. you couldn't say it. no. you needed to spell it out on his lips. so, you kissed him.

furious. hot. like a starved person. desire fueled inside you as you kissed him hard and deep. as you felt the notes of malt whiskey on his tongue. the scent of his aftershave and the cigarettes he smoked on his breathe. the slender fingers tangling in your hair, pulling you closer. not like the first time you'd kissed him earlier in the night.

he pulls away, gasping for breath. in the iridescent light, he sees your swollen lips. he feels a warmth rush down to his nether regions. it feels like a incentive. but he's not sure. he decides to test the waters by running his fingers down your waist. you shiver. his touch is cold.

but you like the cold. you like the contradictory feel of your warm skin against his cold one. you almost beg for it. it's comforting. it's the beginning of something you know you want.

then, like the snap of a finger, he's straddling you. and sliding his t-shirt up, as he's kissing you. you feel his erection grow, hot and big as you touch him. you're trailing your fingers down his sides. his breathing goes erratic. his lips are all over your heated skin, kissing every portion it possibly can.

his fingers trail down to the elastic of your shorts. he's pulling them down. but you're shy. even though you're bucking your hips, telling him to touch him, you're shy. you've got your thighs pushed together.

he sits between your calves, holding his cock in his hand.

'spread your legs wider,' he says, voice stern. it's not a request. it's an order. as if he knows what you want. as if he knows that you crave him. as if he knows he's been your drug even before he'd been yours. but the truth was, he'd always been yours. you whimper under his stare. he slides his finger between your inner thigh, softly pinching the skin.

you jerk open your legs for him, barring your wet, aroused core. it's vulnerable. it's intimate. he slides between your legs, lining his cock with your cunt. he gasps, pushing into you. it's a wonderful burning stretch that you feel as he slides into you. as if you'd been waiting for this your whole life.

but you're greedy. you want more.

you pull him closer by his neck, as he pushes himself deep, so deep. he gasps, a broken moan escaping his lips. you smile, pulling him closer.

'fuck,' you whimper. he stays. you feel him like the way you'd always wanted to. you're never going to lose him.

he pulls himself out, before pushing himself into you again.

'what a pretty cunt,' he says, wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling you closer. your sweaty chests touch, and he buries his neck within the nape of your neck.

'thought i'd almost lost you tonight, sweetheart,' he says, thrusting, more erratic with each passing minute. it's as if he's trying to get out all those years' frustration he couldn't feel, touch you, hiding behind the veil of friendships.

'you're never going to lose me,' you manage out. you feel him so deep into you. it's as if he's always belonged there. 'i thought i was going to lose you before i could ever have you,'

the tip of his cock touches your g-spot and you're seeing stars. your toes curl. your breathe eradicates. your chest heaves as he thrusts and fucks you, stimulating the core tightening of your orgasm. your walls flutter around him. your nails dig into his inked back.

'fuck,' he groans, feeling you gripping him tight. 'gonna cum sweetheart?' he asks. your eyes shed tears of pleasure.

'y-yes, sirius, right there,' you say, chained with profanities and his name as your orgasm breaks away from your body and onto his stomach.

he fucks you through your release, his own thrusts growing sloppy. he grips your chin, maintaining eye-contact with you.

'i'm gonna fuck my babies into you, darling,' he says. you nod vigorously.

'and you-' he moans, biting his lip, as your walls clench around him at his words, 'you're going to look me in my fucking eyes as i do so,' he manages out.

he releases thick, hot ropes of cum into you. you feel it filling you up, satiated. he doesn't pull out. you feel him soften inside you. he kisses you.

'you're gonna look so pretty with your stomach swelled up with my babies,'

****************************************

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©whorediaries-09, 2024.

[fr3sh-tragedies]

I Adore You

[Five Nights at Freddy's] Vanessa Shelly x Female Reader

Summary: She loves everything you do, even if you aren't aware of it.

Word Count: 2.40k Content Warnings: Oblivious reader, brief mentions of anxiety Category: Heavy Fluff || One-shot

[A/N]: Not proofread. Requests are currently being worked on.

Enjoy!

It seemed as though people were chatting away and snickering at you each time you were with Vanessa. You couldn’t understand why. She was your best friend, and you were just hanging out together. What could be so funny about that? Out on walks at the park, a group of girls would lean over to whisper to each other when you and Vanessa passed. When shopping at the mall or the local grocery store, the customers nearby and the clerks seemed to gossip about the two of you with teasing grins on their faces. Even when you would just go out to eat somewhere, it seemed as though the people who noticed the two of you together were talking about you.

What was so interesting about two people hanging out? Why weren’t they gossipping about other people nearby instead? You couldn’t wrap your head around it no matter how long you thought about the constant glances and hushed words. At first, you had thought it was just a coincidence that you and Vanessa were singled out, but as it happened more and more, you started to wonder if it was something about you. There was no way they could be making fun of Vanessa. Even so, looking down at yourself each time and taking note of your appearance, you had no idea what was being discussed so quietly.

The one place, aside from home, where you could escape the chatter was the Diner that Mike worked at with the animatronics. There, with Mike and Abby to keep you company, you could relax and just spark up a normal conversation with Vanessa without worrying about judgemental glares focused directly on you.

However, it seemed that as of recently you had no escape anymore aside from home. Mike, and even Abby herself, were constantly smirking knowingly whenever you and Vanessa would sit down and speak about your days. You couldn’t figure out why, and it was really starting to get under your skin. Surely there was something that you weren’t seeing. That had to be it.

You had to figure it out. It was driving you insane.

As you sat at one of the dusty tables lining the floor of Fazbear’s Family Diner, your eyes trailed over the shapes etched into the party-themed fabric across the wooden top of the surface in front of you. Each small movement of your eyes symbolized a new thought being formed as you desperately wracked your brain to develop an understanding of the gossip.

When a hand came down to squeeze your shoulder and pull you out of your trance, you jumped and twirled in your seat to see who had disturbed you. “You doing okay?” Mike questioned quietly beside you.

Your mind seemed to falter in processing his words, and you only stared up at him for a moment because of it, prompting him to stare down at you in concern. Quickly, after catching a glimpse of Abby wandering nearby, you nodded. The last thing you wanted was to worry Abby as well. As Mike took a seat beside you, his worried expression shifted into a teasing smirk. “Thinking about Vanessa, huh?” For a reason you couldn’t pinpoint, your face flustered at his words.

“Yeah, kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“Well, I just…” You paused, gaze returning to the table as you struggled to form the right words. “People seem to keep laughing and gossipping about Vanessa and I whenever we hang out, and I’m starting to wonder if it’s because of me.”

“Are you serious? Of course it’s because of you.”

You scoffed, swatting his arm. “Mike!” He laughed at the motion and leaned back before you could smack him again. “What?” “Are you kidding? What do you mean “what?” You didn’t have to be that blunt about it!” He chuckled again and shook his head. “Sorry, but it’s true. It’s not because you did anything, it's more so because you aren’t doing anything.”

Brows furrowed and features contorted from confusion, you glared at him. “Huh? What do you mean I’m not doing anything? What the hell am I supposed to be doing? We’re just hanging out when that happens, it’s nothing special.” At your words, he rolled his eyes. “Maybe not to you, but it’s pretty clear that Vanessa feels the opposite.”

He was met with silence. You could only continue to peer over at him as you tried your hardest to grasp his words and what they meant. “God, you really are clueless. Holy shit. Do you seriously not see the way she looks at you or notice the way she talks to you? I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone that lovestruck before. Kinda thought you were just playing hard-to-get with her for a while, but I guess you really are just that dense.”

Again, your knuckles met his shoulder in offense. “What the hell, man? She doesn’t like me like that. Even if she did, that wouldn’t explain why people are being so weird around us.” “Yeah, it does, actually.” “Huh?” The pads of his fingers pinched the bridge of his nose as he sighed. “You genuinely haven’t noticed how she acts around you?”

When he managed to look back up at you, it was clear your attention wasn’t fully on him anymore. He followed your eyes and turned around. Vanessa had walked in through the front door and immediately took notice of you. She beamed ear to ear and waved, and Mike didn’t even have to look back over at you to know you were smiling just as widely. He could hear the rustle of your sleeve as you waved back.

Before the grinning officer could trail over to you, Abby ran up to her and bounced for a bit before taking her hand and pulling her over towards the stage. There, she had Vanessa sit down with her as she picked up her drawings and began to show them to her. Briefly, Vanessa lifted her head enough to shoot a nervous smile your way before devoting her focus on the artwork being displayed for her.

The corners of Mike’s lips perked up in a small simper. He turned back to you to find you staring at the two. Instantly, he knew your eyes were fixated more on Vanessa.

Playfully, he nudged your arm. You finally turned around to face him. You whispered as softly as you could manage when you spoke again. “How would the way she’s acting around me affect the reactions we get from other people?” “Because she bends over backwards just to make you smile. Haven’t you noticed the amount of gifts she’s given you? Even if you haven’t, surely you know how she looks at you.”

“Looks at me?”

“She’s staring at you all the time, and she’s always got this weird, like, dorky grin when she does. It’s not hard to tell that she likes you.”

“I already know she likes me, Mike.”

“But do you know that she loves you?”

Your skin burned at the question. Instinctively, your hands flew up to cover your face in embarrassment. “There’s no way she loves me like that, Mike. No way at all. Don’t lie to me like that.” He groaned and bumped your shoulder again. “C’mon, just acknowledge it already. It’s not like she’s being very subtle about it. Are you really that oblivious?” You stayed silent. “Just think back on the past couple of months, would you? Anything she’s done for you or with you.” As if your mind wasn’t already racing fast enough, his suggestion only accelerated your thoughts.

Shit, he was right.

All the small presents she would drop off for you or hand to you each time you spent time together, with her small smiles as she explained how she thought of you when she saw whatever it was she had gifted to you.

How each day she had off from work would be spent together, and she would assure you that you were the only person she wanted to be with on those days off.

Every time she’d invite you to a nearby cafe or just to go out on a walk together and talk about whatever came to mind.

The soft, comforting touches when she tried to get your attention, or the firm hugs when you needed it, or the gentle jokes passed between the two of you whenever you were alone watching movies and eating the snacks she had bought specifically for the occasion.

The look in her eyes resembling someone so smitten anytime she so much as glanced in your direction.

Had she really been that obvious about everything? Were you really that blind to the meaning of her actions and words? If Mike’s words were true, that meant that everyone you had worried about in the previous months were all aware of it too, and you were the only one who had no idea. You grimaced at the idea of possibly upsetting Vanessa with how ignorant you had been. What if she thought you didn’t feel the same way?

You glanced over at her from your spot at the table. She looked so beautiful as she smiled and chuckled at whatever joke Abby had made. How had you not noticed how incredibly she had treated you?

“Why don’t you go tell her how you feel?” Mike asked gently beside you. You turned to him, muscles tense from unease. “I don’t know. What if I waited too long? What if she doesn’t actually feel that way about me anymore?” A quick shake of his head seemed to help settle your nerves just enough to look over at Vanessa again. “No way she doesn’t feel as strongly about you as she always has. Just go talk to her, okay?”

You weren’t sure if you could do it, but you stood without thinking regardless. A glance in his direction combined with his nodding aided your ability to suck in a sharp breath in an attempt to steel your nerves. Eyes glued to the floor beneath you, you meandered forward shakily until you stood beside Vanessa and Abby. The two looked up at you curiously, and you caught the way Vanessa’s eyes immediately lit up at the sight of you.

“Hey, uh,” you started, clearing your throat at the sound of your voice breaking. “Can I ask you something?” The officer nodded and slowly stood. “Is everything okay?” You nodded and tucked your hands behind your back to pick at each other. “Yeah, everything’s fine. I’m just… I have to ask you about something, but I don’t want it to sound weird.”

“Go ahead. I promise I won’t get upset.”

“Do you like me? Like, romantically?”

The space between the two of you seemed to fall completely silent. Vanessa’s face seemed to fluster as badly as yours and she swallowed the lump in her throat. “Oh,” she whispered.

“Well, I–”

“I thought that was obvious,” Abby blurted, still seated on the ground.

Vanessa laughed when you covered your face and gently took your hands into her own. “Abby,” Mike called from across the room. “Come over here for a minute, okay?” The little girl stood from her spot on the floor and skipped over to her older brother without paying any mind to how sheepish she had made you. When a sigh slipped past your lips, Vanessa shrugged. “I really did think I was being obvious about it. Honestly, I thought I was coming on too strong. Apparently not.”

You slid your hands out from hers and hugged your arms tightly, eyes averting in embarrassment at her words. “I just,” you murmured briefly before sighing. “I didn’t know. I thought you were just being really nice to me for no reason.”

“I mean, kind of, but it was mainly because I was too nervous to just ask you out. I was hoping you would get the hint and it would make it easier. Guess I should’ve upped the ante, huh?” Just as you had done to Mike, you swatted Vanessa’s arm gently and huffed, to which she chuckled at.

You waited a moment before peeking up at her. “Do you really like me that way?” She nodded with a wide smile painted across her lips. “I do. I really do. I adore every single part of you, good and bad. In fact, could you wait here for just a moment? I’ve got something out in my car for you.” You could only nod, barely registering anything past the confirmation of her confession.

Her hand patted your arm softly before she jogged toward the entrance and out through the large glass door. Only a moment later, she returned to her previous spot in front of you, now carrying a large bouquet of roses. She let her arm extend outwards to you and she waited for you to take the gift from her. “I was actually planning on confessing to you tonight after we were all ready to head home, but you kinda beat me to it. I guess I should honestly be thanking you for making it easier on me,” she explained with a timid laugh.

As you took the bouquet from her hand, she scratched the back of her neck. “So,” she murmured. “Do you… feel the same way?” Using the flowers as a makeshift shield, you hid part of your face as you whispered out a soft “yes” in response. A sigh fell from her lips as her tensed body finally relaxed. “Oh, thank god.” She stepped forward and took hold of your free hand. A quick tug in her direction caused you to practically fall into her embrace, and she held you close, her hold on you strong and comforting.

“I love you so much,” she finally confessed. It took a moment for the words to fully process themselves into your brain, but you ultimately hummed and returned the hug, unable to bite back your smile. “I love you too.”

When she leaned back, she cupped your face in her hands and let the pads of her thumbs stroke soothingly over your skin. She leaned forward and pressed a swift peck against your nose and then your forehead. Briefly, her lips met yours before she pulled back again.

“I hope you know I’m going to spoil the hell out of you.”

She smiled gleefully when you eagerly tugged her back into the kiss.

[hel1nn]

PLSS PLSS PLSS I NEED THIS

So Gojo has been neglecting his girlfriend y/n because of triggering the mental health of gojo's ex and because gojo still loves his ex he starts to neglect or abandon y/n but then again y/n only sees gojo as the source of her light, y/n sees gojo as a reason why y/n is still alive, and when Gojo starts to get mad towards y/n, y/n slowly falls apart and led her to death

PLS PLS I'M ON MY KNEES!!

The other women.

︵⠀satoru gojo x fem!reader ⠀◌Ⳋ𝅄

⌗ !! Heavy angst | Cursed words | heart break |

Listen to i bet on losing dogs by mitski and the other woman by lana del rey while reading:b

A/N : thanks for the request ^.^

Oh how you want him to forget about her. You know why satoru is avoiding you all the time. You caught him texting his ex, begging her to meet him. But his contact was blocked in her ohone,All you could do was keep it to yourself. What else can you do anyway, he's all you have left and trying your best to make him forget about his ex. As always you were watching tv alone,the promise of a movie night long gone. His not coming back hoke tonight again. You can't even focus on the show on tv,all you could think was about satoru. How he isn't sleeping properly,the bags underneath his eyes. You want to be his safe space that you always wanted to be. From the start of your relationship,satoru would let you touch him,even let you have the intimacy time with him but as time passes satoru had been pushing you away more and more. Its only two year of your relationship with him and why are your feelings are so deep? Because even before dating him you had loved hik for years,even when his ex and him were together. You had admired him from afar,not even daring to step into his love life. But when satoru accepted your love you thought you don't have to admire him from afar anymore yet. Here you are now,seeing satoru again cling to his ex,but you were still trying your best to continue this relationship. Trying your best to be enough for him, always treating him like satoru not like the strongest. You were snapped out of your thoughts at the sound of your phone buzzing. Maybe its satoru,as you though just to see shokos contact spaming you with so many texts. You were to tired to reply to anyone's texts and calls for now except satoru. You and shoko weren't that close but still she was a sweetheart to you. You turn the tv off, walking off to the bedroom to sleep knowing that trying to sleep is useless for you. You lay down on your bed,the clock already hitting 12 am.

It's already 3 am and satoru still hasn't come back,why ? You thought as always. You can't sleep, can't sleep without his warmth. One time you tood him this he ended up calling you too much clingy. And you ended up crying. You sit up slightly as you hear the jigglings of the keys, finally he had came back. You step out of your bed to see him. Satoru doesn't even tries to glance at you knowing you were standing behind him

"why didn't you come home early like you said" slips you lips,even though you didn't wanted to sound rude. Satoru just lets out an annoyed sigh as always.

"was busy with work,we can have a movie night later.." satoru said before leaving for bathroom to fresh himself up. You again walk off the the bedroom, laying down on it. Satoru comes to bed alot later than you,as satoru lays down you fight the urge to wrap your arms around him. His back facing you, missing how satoru used to hold you against his chest. You wait a few minutes, waiting for him to relax fully so you could wrap your arms around him. Finally when the moment comes,you gently wrap your around him torso just to-

"y/n." You freeze up, fearing he would push you away again.

"w-what is it" you mumble

"i am not in the mood"

"but i was just want to cuddle satoru.." you traill off, slowly pulling yourself away.

"just stop being clingy for a moment..please." satoru grumbles, before moving further away from you. Satoru noticed how hard your trying to continue your relationship with him. How your lips stays on his cheeks more longer than before. Everyday making dinner for him even though he doesn't comes home. Trying to takr extra care of him but all he does is pushing you away. Satoru feels the guilty covering him up again but- satoru cant help but love and miss his ex so much more than you...oh.

You don't say anything, just lay down. Trying your best to keep your teaes to yourself that are already peaking in the corner of your eyes. Satoru still hasn't moved on yet got in a relationship with you,its your fault for still continuing this barely alive relationship. But you cant help but be selfish. trying your best to make him forget about his ex by giving him all the love you have for him. You felt so so much stupid but you loved him so much more than you loved yourself. He was your everything. You silently cry yourself to sleep again, waking up to a empty bed. You take your phone to check all the texts finally, opening the shokos contact. Oh,you feel like your heart stops beating. Why is there a photo of satoru with a familiar girl? What is that. Not even reading her texts you hit the call button to talk with shoko. Did satoru really met his ex? No that's not true,it shouldn't be true.

"y/n" shoko say behind your phone, already knowing you will say.

"w-whos that girl with satoru w-why does s-she looks like his e-ex-" you speak with the tremblings on your lips, already trying to stop the tears.

"y/n try to relax a little bit,i know it doesn't feels real but it is. I caught him talking with her. And it's the best for me to tell you. I am sorry what that asshole has did to you. Its the best if you two break up,you don't deserve him y/n. This relationship isn't healthy for you" shoko sighed,she couldn't help tell you all these things and as much details as she could. After all the talking and crying you finally hung up. cheeks stained with tears as your breath was stil Hitching. Maybe your the other woman here. The other woman who didn't get the love she wanted. You feel like crying again. You try your best to keep your pieces together as you finally left for work. The night you came home alone as always. No satoru to greet you warmly. You slip down on your bed,not even bothering to remove your clothes. Satoru is the only hope for you but tonight you will ask him. If he loves you more or her. Everything inside you feels hollow. The sheets had his scent but it only increased the pain in your heart.

-

"satoru.." you finally spoke after he got in the bed,satoru looked at your. His blue irises missing the loving gaze. you take a deep breath.

"we have to talk" you said, avoiding eye contact with him

"what do you wanna talk about now, don't tell me why did i came home late tonight even though you know the reason" satoru mutters, your miserable. Satoru is the reason yet seeing the tired expressions and dark circles,his sadness underneath it makes your heart clench. You know no Matt what you'll never be able to hate this man. The man that never loved you like you wanted to.

"why do you always push me away? Is it her?" You blurt out. "Do you still love her?"

Satoru freezes,why are you asking him this? Yiu should know it. Know it and left him already,you don't deserve a man like him. You deserve better. His mouth opens to say something but it closes again.

"answer me satoru. Please.." you look at him with the pleading eyes of yours,you want to know it. You don't know when this talk turned into a argument,him yelling at you while you yell at him,tears streaming down your face when finally admits the truth you never wanted to exist.

"yes i do love her. I love her more than you" satoru grumbles, feeling guilt and anger at the same time, how the hurt was painted on your face, how the fat tears were running down your face. he walks away from the room, planning on sleeping on the couch. All you could do was cry more,you knew he loved her more than you. Or Maybe he had never tried to love you. You were something he used to forget about his ex. So why did it hurted this much hearing it from his mouth. Your sobs were loud,satoru could hear it. All he could do was ignore. And you crying yourself to to your most painful sleep. You and satoru broke things off but your love for him never disappeared. You felt like a dead body who's heart was still beating. At work you'd see him, looking so happy with his students. But you were never able to make him this much happy, you thought. Today you had a mission to complete. A special grade, knowing that you were far from it. Oh how your heart had ached so badly when you saw him in a cafe with her. You don't know why did you agreed to this but you did. You couldn't get what was going on in your life. Everything felt meaningless without him,he was your sun and you were the moon. The moon who nedded the sun but the sun was focused on the earth. Actually its her. And no one. So when the curse's arm pierced through your chest you didn't fought back,tiu didn't had the energy to continue anything anymore. Being dead would be more peaceful than living a life so painful like this. Maybe in another life,you would be satoru's earth.

Satoru looks at your dead body laying in shoko's morgue,he told himself he doesn't loves you but seeing you here laying lifeless, knowing that you were there for him no matter what. You loved him no matter what. His heart ached. He still remembers how you you cried when satoru told you he still loves his her,her who's getting married to someone next year. His hand gently holds yours, caressing you cold knuckles. The white clothe around you had almost soaked in your blood.

"maybe in another life I'll be able to love you,y/n."

Okayyy i tried my best:((( thanks again for the request nonnie!! And English isn't my first language sorry if i did any mistakes:)

[martyryo]

You felt like you were burning up in pain, you want to scream.

[jermer10]

Hey, I've got a TF2 request, if you don't mind! Mercs with a s/o who accidentally falls asleep with their head on the mercs shoulder. (Very cliche, I know...) I'll let you pick who you want to write for, no pressure! PS, I think your writing is phenomenal, and I anticipate whatever you might post next!

TF2 falling asleep on their shoulder

gn reader | ahhh tysm!! this message means so much :) i decided to write for all the mercs, hope you enjoy!!!

temperatures are in celsius

drabbles under the cut :P

Scout: "Move ova'!" Scout pushed his way onto the already overcrowded couch, disregarding the protests of the other mercs. Tonight was movie night at the red base, and he would be damned if he couldn’t use this as a moment to try and get closer to you. "Hiya toots," he flirted, stretching his right arm out to rest around your shoulders. "Hi Jeremy." You smiled and rolled your eyes playfully. Scout had been crushing on you for a while, every chaste touch and every flirty interaction had culminated in something that far outweighed any feelings he once had for Pauling. The movie had long since started, and mercs were continuing to file into the living room, squishing themselves onto the lounge or plotting themselves onto the floor. He couldn't remember the genre let alone the name of the film, all Scout could hear was the sound of his own heartbeat and the feeling of uncomfortable itchiness in his throat as you cuddled into his side. An hour in and your eyes began to grow heavy, breathing slowing in tandem. Jeremy glanced down at you, his palms moist and his face flushed as he wrapped his arm around your waist, attempting to focus on the movie and not how cute you looked like that. He was definitely asking you out in the morning.

Soldier: Everyone felt hot, sweaty, and exhausted as they slugged themselves back to the blu base. The mood hung heavy, no one seemed interested in Soldier’s usual antics - all except you, of course. You feigned a smile as he ranted about team ethic and the "American spirit", some mercs scowled at the man and others mumbled profanities and sauntered off. A light breeze came in through the afternoon air, Soldier sighed in the smell of Spring. “Hey, we should sit out here for a bit,” you squeezed Jane’s arm, pulling him towards one of the wooden benches placed just outside of the entrance to base. He felt his heart swell, not only did you want to hang out with him, but any touch from you made him absolutely crazy. “AFFIRMATIVE CUPCAKE,” Soldier responded, allowing you to lead the way. You audibly sighed as you sat down, just looking at you it was obvious you were exhausted. “Better luck next time, huh?” you joked, Soldier chuckled and stared out at the afternoon sky. You sat there together for a while, until he felt a sudden, yet small pressure on his shoulder. You had fallen asleep on him, and with anyone else he would have woken them up immediately, but you looked so peaceful and….pretty in a way? Soldier glued his eyes to the afternoon sky, he could think about these feelings later, better to let you rest after a long day.

Pyro: Being friends with Pyro was exhausting in of itself, and they knew this. But they couldn't help wanting to invite you along to their errands, you were their best friend and any time spent with you was time spent well. By the end of the day, you were both well past exhausted. "You're lucky I like you so much, otherwise I would never go on an errand run with you again." You teased, slinging an arm around their shoulders as you both trotted up the stairs to the base entrance. Pyro flushed under their mask, muffling out a "Yeah, yeah whatever, you love me." and rolling their eyes. You chuckled, opening the door to base and dragging yourselves to the living room. Pyro plopped onto the couch, sinking into the plush cushions and removing their mask. They knew the rest of the team wouldn't be back for a while, and the heat of the day had done a number to both of you. You took your seat next to them, sitting back and resting your feet on the coffee table in front of you. "Wanna watch tv?" They asked, grabbing the remote. "Yeah whatevs" You responded, yawning and stretching your arms over your head. An hour of mindless game shows, and you had passed out, head falling on their shoulder. Pyro chuckled, turning the tv down and dimming the lights. They pecked your forehead, and cuddled into you, making themself comfortable.

Demoman: Demo certainly didn’t take you as a drinker, let alone a party animal like himself! You go out for a couple drinks together after a team winning streak and manage to arrive back to base blasted out of your minds, clinging onto one another for dear life in your drunken stupor. “IIIIII LOOVE YOU DEMOOO!!!!” You proclaimed, enveloping your arms around the Scott’s neck. Grinning and face burning, he wrapped his arms around your waist, attempting to gently guide you back to your bedroom. His ongoing feelings for you had always been pushed down, and despite knowing that you were probably just super wasted and wouldn’t remember it in the morning, he didn’t want to waste possibly his only chance to spill at least some of his feelings to you. “Aye, i looove you too y/nnnn” Tavish slurred, poking your face in various places. You laughed and kissed the man on the cheek, “DAAATE ME TAAVAVVVV!!” You lamented, cupping his face in your hands. The sudden movement causing you both to topple over onto the floor of your room. Demo sat up and leant against the foot of your bed, you, laughing hysterically, joined him. Resting your head on his shoulder, your laughter dribbled off to giggles and you listened to his thundering heartbeat. "I really do like you, Tav.." You whispered, peering down at the floor, feeling a wave of tiredness wash over you. You nuzzled into his shoulder, and drifted off, leaving a beet faced Demo staring down at you.

Heavy: Visiting Heavy's home during the middle of a Russian winter was a less than ideal scenario, but the team had wanted to see what a "real winter" was like, and now here you were trudging 2 foot deep in snow towards the wooden lodge. Heavy opened the door to the sight of 9 freezing mercs, and scoffed. "Inside." He commanded. You furrowed your brows and complied, shivering from the contrast of hot air. "Drink." A mug of hot coco was given to you by the gentle giant. "T-thanks.." You mumbled, walking over to the fireplace and sitting cross legged in front of it. Most of the mercs were directed to their rooms, some lounged around in the kitchen or dining area, having quiet conversations. Heavy sat next to you, mug in hand. This was already too close to comfort for you, and he could tell. Whilst he had been crushing on you for a while, he was oblivious to whether you returned those feelings - believing that you were scared of him. But right now your tired eyes and pink cheeks said otherwise, seeking some form of comfort from the man. "Come, I will hold you to warm you up." Mikhail gave you no room for choice, and you were still freezing. You complied and scooted closer to Heavy, resting your head on his chest as he wrapped an arm around you. In an instant, you had fallen asleep, curled up on Heavy, the body heat shared between the two of you giving more warmth than the blazing heat permeating from the fireplace in front of you.

Engineer: Even after hours of battling, the match on 2fort had yet to finish. Scouts from both sides rushing for the briefcase, only to instantly die from sentry guns, Spies in disguise, or a Heavy hopped up on ubercharge. You were ready to drop, the respawn machine healing your wounds but doing nothing for your exhaustion. You knew that Dell was stationed in the intelligence room, sentry setup so anyone who trespassed would be delt with. The perfect place to catch a few z's before heading back out to the fight. "Yo Dell, can I maybe rest down here for a bit?" You implored, watching the man upgrade a dispenser. "Sure darlin'," He smiled earnestly, you gave him a look of relief. Curling up under the desk, you attempted to sleep, but the lack of cushioning made it an impossible task. Dell noticed, and gave the dispenser one last 'clonk' with his spanner before accompanying you under the table. "Here," He scootched up next to you, "You can rest on me if you'd like." You looked up at him, his cheeks felt hot. "Wow - yeah, thanks Dell." Blood rushed to your face as you situated your head on his shoulder. "Anytime, pumpkin." He muttered. Sleep was instantaneous, Engie held his breath until he was sure you were out cold, letting out a deep sigh and smiling down at the floor. How did he get so lucky?

Medic: Medic suffered long nights in the infirmary, and during those nights you would often visit him to keep him company. It was routine - you would saunter in around 9pm, sitting on the edge of the operating table, your feet barely touching the floor, chin resting in the palms of your hands as he tinkered away. He reveled in it - he had grown attached to this schedule, and by extension, you. Your mere presence made him giddy, seeing your sweet smile before he put you under anesthetics made his heart swell. The best nights were the ones where you would let him operate on you, he would be able to enact out his writings, throwing things at the wall and seeing what stuck. Then, you'd either walk out around 3am, or respawn from a botched surgery, and go to bed. Tonight, however, you had proven to be far too tired for a surgery, let alone a full night of softly rambling to Ludwig about whatever crossed your mind. You had pulled up the operating chair and sat next to him, eyes flickering between him and the notes he had been writing in his medical book, slowly drifting off. Your head fell on his shoulder, fast asleep. Medic peered down at you from over his glasses, breathing a lovestruck sigh. Maybe these were the best nights.

Sniper: The middle of the day in Sniper's van was akin to hell. The air smelt stale, windows wide open, no aircon, just the both of you sweaty, sticky, and half clothed. This would usually have embarrassed the two of you, but the 40 degree weather and sound of the other mercs outside attempting to cool off using a singular hose had you both choosing to stay indoors, not wanting to get involved in the argument currently taking place between Demo and Soldier. Heat fogged your brain, you felt so tired, your body sweat all of your energy out. "Fuck, why couldn't you get an AC installed?" You groaned, lazily shutting your eyes and fanning your face with your hand. Sniper shrugged, and despite not being able to see the motion, you scoffed. "Dunno," Mick responded nonchalantly. He trailed off, seemingly succumbing to the same heat induced exhaustion you were fighting with. You opened your eyes slightly, confirming your suspicions that Sniper had also closed his. Arms crossed, head pointing downwards, God, he looked so comfortable. Mick could tell what you were thinking, and he wanted nothing more than to cuddle up to you, but he couldn't bring himself to move. You were close like that, almost reading one another's minds at times. So you made the first step, sliding over to him and laying your head on his shoulder. Sniper was uncomfortably hot, yet refusing to move an inch as you slept on him. Eventually, he couldn't help but nod off alongside you.

Spy: The drive back from your mission was excruciating. Sniper and Medic sat in the driver and passenger seats respectively, the only sound was the droning radio hosts on the van's radio. You had failed, and you knew Spy was seething from the loss. You, however, were so tired you couldn't even stand. Partially from the bullet lodged in your calf, partially from the athlete level running you had to do in order to get back to the van after the high elected government official had caught you in the act attempting to steal nuclear launch codes. Spy was the one to snatch the codes, but you had still been seen, and that in of itself was a failure. Incidentally, Spy had been the one to offer you aid once you were safely in the van. Your arm draped around his shoulders, wincing at the sharp pains running up your leg. As much as he tried to hate you, he just....couldn't. You were too sweet, too kind. So, he opted instead to blame Medic and Sniper for being unable to damage control the situation better. You were slipping in and out of consciousness, head slowly rocking towards Spy's shoulder, and then awkwardly leaning back towards the wall of the vehicle. "Rest your head on me, mon cher. Otherwise you are going to break your nose." He grunted. In an instant you had passed out on him, breathing in the strong scent of cigarettes and expensive cologne. He sighed a breath of relief, enjoying your gentle pressure on his side. Smitten was an understatement.

[tojiscrack]

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐍

pairing: megumi fushiguro x reader

summary: 18k words — you and megumi meet for the first time and experience kindergarten together.

notes: this is the fic i’ve been working on for a little while. a childhood friends to lovers with megumi because he’s so underrated (and deserves better!!). updates will be slow, but only because the chapters will range from 10-12k and maybe even more. check the tags to see if this story will interest you — i’ll make sure to add the tropes, what to expect, and the general gist of it all <3 enjoy! here is also sneak peak (a small scene from some of the future chapters) to be certain that this is the story for you :)))

tw: slightly bad english in dialogue (done on purpose as the characters presented are kids), y/n (she deserves her own warning), and idk, offended gojo

i do not own any of the characters of jjk, i only own the character of y/n and her mother. the other characters belong to gege akutami.

next chapter :)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

2007-2008 kindergarten

you sat on the floor, the rough carpet scratching up against your shorts as you flattened out your skirt in preparation for your story-telling. the loud giggles around you had quietened notably. your classmates sat in a full circle, all facing you with contained anticipation and exhilaration. kimberly garnett sat with a fist in her mouth, grinning widely at you. malakai abara sat on his knees, bent forward with a smile on his face as he twisted the little dreads on his head with his small finger. the rest of the kids simply awaited, laughing as you reached for the toy torch and held it beneath your chin.

silently, you flipped the switch on... or rather struggled to flip the switch on. you heard several sighs from around you as you took the time to figure out what the issue was, until at last, the light had turned on (and blinded you in the process).

clearing your throat, you sat up straighter, eyes half-lidded as your story began:

"a long, long time ago, far away, once upon a time, there was a girl... and her name was bloody mary," you began, slowly. the other kids watched you with wide eyes. "she was killed by some bad guy. and then he trapped her inside a mirror."

"but how?" ayaan miah had asked, looking fearful.

you regarded him with little care.

"none of your beeswax, anyways! erm — so basically — erm — oh my god, ayaan! look what you done! now i can't remember!"

every kid in the circle whined and moaned out ayaan's name, frustrated at the boy's interruption. you shut your eyes, attempting to remember, and when you had opened them, you had been met with ayaan's flushed brown skin. you decided that you would save him then, seeing as you had remembered the story once more.

"wait guys, it's fine. i remember now."

everyone sighed in relief, their smiles returned.

"okay, so..." you sighed. "now when kids are being very bad, my mommy says that if you go in the mirror and say 'bloody mary' three times and then you spin around — then — then — then she's gonna come out and then she's gonna get her long nails and then she's — she's gonna try and kill you. and then there's gonna be so much blood."

your eyes passed each and every one of their faces, scanning their features; they looked traumatised.

from the corner of your eye, you caught slight movement. immediately, your head turned in that direction, met with the sight of amira khalil shakily raising her hand. it seemed that she had wanted permission to speak — you nodded your head at her, encouraging her to voice her thoughts.

"is there any way to save yourself?" she said timidly.

her wise question had led the rest of the kids to nod and look at you with big, curious eyes, seemingly pleased with her question and wondering what the answer would be.

you thought for a moment, scratching your head and accidentally moving the hair clip your mother had placed in your hair. you quickly adjusted it and then placed both your hands on the torch again, ready to answer.

"so, basically, you can pretend to die," you told them carefully. you did not like how the smiles on their faces had returned, looking satisfied with your response.

the kids had immediately begun speaking to each other, excitedly having discussions about how bloody mary was not ever going to be able to get them now that they had found a solution. you narrowed your eyes at them, a sneer on your face as you loudly interrupted the discussions.

"but!" you had said loudly. their attention was back on you, frowns forming and smiles disappearing. that's better, you had thought to yourself. "not to bubble your burst... but — but — like, she can get her finger and put it underneath your nose to see if you're breathing. and you can't hold your breath because she will hold it there for a long time," you added quickly as the smartest kid in your class (alexa clement) opened her mouth to put in her input. she had shut it as soon as the last word had been uttered.

kimberly garnett had long since taken her fist out of her mouth, not looking nearly as content as she had once been when she had first taken a seat across from you on the carpet.

"i think i'm scared..." she said, hesitantly.

you nodded, chin in the air. "yeah, you should be. but i'm not scared."

"huh?" gasped david yeboah, mouth parted in shock (similar to the rest of the kids in the circle). "how? what if she comes to kill you if you call her?"

you had your answer prepared since the moment you had stepped past the doors of the kindergarten building that morning.

"um — she — she's my friend, so — um — she won't kill me. and she said that if you guys don't give me your toys, then she will kill you," you explained, watching as they had all started scrambling to find their toys and place them by your feet.

another successful story-telling day.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

tired of playing with the same old toys, your boredom had reached its peak and you had decided that you would venture about and find something else to do. standing up, you stretched out your little legs and went waddling over to the toy box, searching for anything else to dig out and begin entertaining yourself with.

the toy box had been placed opposite to the teachers desk (which was also situated beside the interactive whiteboard). the rest of the room had five separate group tables leaving the centre of the room empty and bare (space for you and your classmates to sit on the floor when miss huckleberry would sing a nursery rhyme or read a boring story book).

the toys were not appealing to the eye, but you had just seen elena holland playing with a princess doll — you wanted it. it looked pretty, and squinting your eyes from a distance told you that the princess was actually rapunzel.

you wanted it even more now. rapunzel was the best disney princess in your opinion. you wanted that doll.

elena holland had always sat and listened to your scary stories, she had quietly listened to every single one of them since the first ever group circle had been initiated. therefore, by default, the doll had to be yours.

confidently, you marched up to elena, smiling as she noticed you approaching. you did not beat around the bush, nor did you attempt to sugar coat what you wanted.

"you have to give me that doll."

and the most shocking thing had happened to you after that.

elena had said:

"no."

startled, stupefied, and shocked, you looked back at her, scanning her pale face with disgust. you would give her the benefit of the doubt... perhaps with all the stories you had told, maybe she had forgotten the rules, the outcomes, or the consequences of not listening to your instructions.

that was quite all right. you were more than happy to remind her.

"okay, well, because you said no to me, bloody mary is my friend and she's gonna come and kill you... so yeah."

and you had found yourself absolutely flabbergasted when the girl had a well-prepared response to that. it had clearly been thought out.

"that's not true," said elena.

you frowned. "huh?"

"bloody mary's not real," she clarified for you, as if you had made up the story for your own enjoyment (which, you had, but that was not the point).

you resisted the urge to snatch the doll from her hands and run off with it, uncaring of whether she cried or not, unbothered as to whether you would end up in the naughty corner for the third time that day. your only concern was who had broken the news to her, who had ruined the entire purpose of your stories.

probably a teacher, you thought to yourself, scowling in annoyance.

well now it meant that you had to repair the damage. what a hassle.

"someone told me," elena added, as though that comment was ever so helpful (it was not).

"okay," you shrugged, acting careless. "don't blame me when bloody mary comes to you at night. i warned you."

elena had not wasted any more time in giving you the doll; you were pleased

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

the next few days were rather unpleasant. you had not been in the greatest mood on one particular morning: the sun had woken you up that day, your mother had forced you to go in to kindergarten despite your strong protests, you had lost the class game, and you had been sent to the naughty corner at one point — which, on a normal day, would not have bothered you in the slightest: the issue lied with the stupid assistant teacher that had been told to watch over you because apparently, you could not be trusted to stay put. not to mention, you had an extra ten minutes in comparison to the other kids.

you had no plans on doing your typical story-tellings, yet your other classmates had been bugging you since the moment you had passed the double doors on your way in. initially, you refused them, in foolish hopes of the fact that they'd accept it and move on.

they didn't.

they pleaded for your story, claiming that they would truly stay silent, no questions, as you entertained them. you did not believe it, not even a sock could silence the annoying giggles and chatter of those classmates of yours.

but to stop their consistent begging, you had given in (albeit, reluctantly) and not long after, you found yourself sitting in that circle again, waiting for everyone to gather themselves.

"oh my god, kenji, shut up!" you scolded the dark haired boy who had been laughing loudly and preventing you from starting. your tone was harsh, aware that this particular classmate of yours would not take any offence to your comments towards him (unlike anyone else, who you knew would end up in tears, resulting in you sitting in that naughty corner once again).

"sorry," kenji lee chuckled, but you could not help but think that he did not look one bit sorry.

as the chatter around you began to die down, you repressed the urge to rip the stupid bow placed on your head that had been pulling on a particular strand of your hair for some time, and throw it at someone (kenji).

impatiently, you handed the torch to the girl next to you: you had very little tolerance for the struggle of attempting to switch the light on without wasting time. as you waited for her to click it on, you noticed that she was a newcomer, you had never seen her in class and you knew for a fact that she was not in the other class either. surely you would have been told?

the girl proved to be helpful, she had successfully switched the torch on and with a small 'thanks', you took the torch from her hands and placed it beneath your chin (again, almost blinded from the angle of the light shining just below your eyes).

this time around, you did not waste time with a slow introduction to your story, caring less and less for the enjoyment of your peers.

"so there was this man and his name is freddy krueger," you began, watching confusion rise on your classmates' faces. perhaps they were used to your long introductions (the typical 'once upon a time' etc). you did not care for it. "he used to be very handsome and then his wife found out that he was cheating on her and then burnt his face."

as promised, none of the kids raised their hands to ask 'how?' or question something very obvious. your bad mood had been knocked down an inch.

"so now he comes for naughty kids who keep cheating in games," you stated, staring specifically at christopher allen who you strongly believed to have cheated in order to win the class game that morning (stupid miss huckleberry had been adamant that he had truly won fair and square).

the silence that you had been revelling in for a short moment had been interrupted harshly. you'd heard malakai's aggravating voice distract you, ripping you from your hardening glare towards christopher, whose eyes were slowly starting to water for whatever reason.

"did fred have —"

you interrupted him.

"no you can't call him that, only i can."

malakai's eyebrows raised so far up, there were lines on his forehead. another voice cut in through the conversation: it was abby milton.

"y/n, how are you friends with every single bad guy?" she had asked, curious.

you had no choice but to step in and correct her.

"they're not bad guys because i changed them so yeah... they're mis— mis— misuntood."

you were ninety-nine percent sure that none of the kids in the circle knew what that word meant, but none of them dared to ask.

"oh, i forgot," you added, just as you had nearly placed the torch away. hurriedly, you brought it right back beneath your chin. "if — if — if — if you, like, don't keeping on telling off me... then he... umm... yeah, he won't kill you."

you did not specify (with your eyes or your voice) who you were referring to, but you had decided that the same went for the rest of the kids anyway. that naughty corner would be the death of you, you were sure of it. at least now, with this threat looming over their heads, you would not be in the naughty corner for a long, long time to come.

shortly after, you had quickly put the torch away and made your way to the book corner, attempting to entertain yourself with some of the new books the kindergarten had gotten. several of the other kids had decided that they were not done yet, that they still had questions that remained unanswered about freddy krueger. the only thing that deterred them was the threat that you would never tell another story if they bothered you this much again. 

looking disappointed, and mildly annoyed, they had walked off, grumbling about how they had no way to protect themselves from yet another evil entity. you shrugged it off, distracted by the pretty fairy lights and cushions decorating the book shelf. pleased with the presentation of the area, you admired the way the warm colour emanated from the little light bulbs attached to the silver wire. several posters lined the top of the bookshelf, promoting 'silent reading' and so on.

accompanying you some time later had been abby milton, complaining about how she wanted you to give more clarification about freddy krueger (you tried not to sigh loudly, thinking about how you had only just gotten peace about the matter).

"i'll tell miss," she decided on saying at last, something that had finally caught your attention after practically ignoring her pleas since the moment she had sat down beside you.

"freddy krueger will come get you in night time then."

and you were certain (after she had voiced out her response to that) that you were facing deja vu for the first time.

"somebody said you're lying," said abby, swiping her messy hair away from her face. "somebody said freddy krueger isn't real."

you attempted to mask over the fury you had now adopted, trying to hide the mix of confusion and curiosity too: as if your mood wasn't already terrible, you were practically a ticking time bomb, and the timer was slowly reaching its peak.

but your suspicions were now confirmed — there was someone out there sabotaging you: if it had been a teacher, like you originally suspected, then, one: you would have found yourself in time out again, and two: she wouldn't have threatened to tell off of you, seeing as the teacher would have already known about it.

it was one of your classmates. you were certain now.

reminded of the fact that not all of your peers entered the circle of your story-telling time, you could narrow down your options. someone outside of the circle was your culprit.

but again, you were not in the mood to spend the time investigating. so, instead, you decided to flat out ask her who this mystery person was.

"well they're a liar," you said, standing up and dusting yourself off, looking around. "they basically want you to get — to — to die." you looked down at her, brows furrowed. "anyways who even said that?"

"megumi."

and now you were more than offended. you were absolutely ready to beat down a boy, but for a fellow girl to turn around and stab you in the back with no remorse? that stung. it felt like she (whoever she was) had plunged a knife right through your back and pushed it all the way to your heart, practically carving out your insides to her pleasure.

ignoring her calls for you, you walked away and exited the classroom, standing in the playground and looking furtive. the sun shone over the unused bikes and the abandoned hula-hoops on the floor as members of both classes ran around and played together. the sight hurt your eyes, the headache of yours stirring even further and worsening with each passing minute.

and what was worse? malakai, that annoying peer of yours, had appeared in front of you somehow. you had looked away for a mere second, how had he reached you without your awareness?

"can you please tell me what freddy krueger stays away from? i'm scar—"

"listen," you started, the timer in you now at one digit numbers, "i forgot to say that fred also kills people who keep bov— bovering me, so you have to leave me alone."

just when you thought you were done with this conversation, someone else had decided to join in, but once they had spoken...

you were certain your hunt for the enemy had been over.

"stop lying."

leisurely, your head turned. it seemed as though a thousand years had gone by, but really, it had only been a short fifteen seconds till you had turned enough to be met with the sight of a... a boy?

a million and one questions had passed your mind in that short moment you made eye contact with the boy who looked as though you had eradicated his entire bloodline. had you misheard abby? you were certain the name of the sabotag-er was megumi, a girl name. 

but you were absolutely, one hundred percent, definitely certain that this boy was unquestionably the one going around ruining your plans, corrupting the minds of your classmates to turn them against you.

and the kid looked goofy too, you had thought, with his dark-as-night hair standing on all ends, his equally-as-dark eyes half-lidded as if he had not a care in the world, and his face forming an unmoveable frown, looking more than unimpressed. 

well that made sense. the metaphorical knife was now non-existent, since your initial assumption had been correct — it was a dumb boy after all.

"who," you began, defensive, "are you? i've never even seen you in my life."

but it wasn't (who you assumed was) megumi that answered. you had just realised that malakai was still in the picture.

"that's megumi guro!" he had said, loud and clear.

you regarded him with a short look before staring back at megumi guro, who had somehow appeared more grumpier than when you had first gazed at him. 

"it's fushi-guro," said megumi what's-his-face.

you scowled at him. 

"if you keep saying that again and again and again, freddy krueger's gonna come to you in the —"

"he's not even real."

malakai had gasped. you glared at megumi fushiguro.

"you know what? you're not even real megumi fushigo!"

"it's fushiguro," he repeated, stoic.

"i said that."

"no you didn't."

malakai had disappeared by this point, perhaps bored with this interaction between you and megumi fushiguro.

"yes i did," you repeated, frustrated. no other kid had ever challenged you, this megumi child was starting to put a bad taste in your mouth.

"no you —"

"yeah stop subject changing."

"you mean changing the subject."

"oh my gosh!" you exclaimed, scratching at your thigh which proved to be unsatisfying seeing as your tights were in the way. "you listen here with your girl’s name! you are a girl!"

"..."

megumi fushiguro had not said anything for a while, choosing to stay silent as he stared back at you. uncertain of whether you had seen it properly, but you could have sworn that you'd seen his eye twitch ever so slightly.

"not a girl's name," he grumbled quietly.

you gave him a tight-lipped smile. 

"liar, liar, pants on fire!" you shouted, pointing at him like he had committed a brutal crime in front of your very eyes. smug, you looked at him with a real smile this time. "who's the liar now?"

but megumi's response had come just as quick as you had finished yours.

"still you."

"no, it's both of us!"

"you just admitted to lying."

"..."

astounded, staggered, and stupefied, you stared back at megumi, mouth parted and jaw dropped. you had only just realised your mistake there, the smugness you had previously adopted now diminished and killed just as it had come. nobody had ever rendered you speechless before, you had always gotten your way. usually, people would simply leave you to have the last word in defeat, but this megumi... megumi had got you there, because you just had admitted to lying.

"...MIIIIIIISS, megumi slapped my butt!"

"megumi did not slap your butt y/n."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

"now you want to go to school, huh?" your mother mused as she pulled your hair back into a ponytail and began tying a silk ribbon into it.

it had been a week since you had met megumi fushiguro, and since then, it seemed as though he was everywhere. every story you had scared your other classmates with, he just had to be there to tell them the truth, corrupting them (in your eyes).

he had been actively undoing every tale you would tell and it was starting to irritate you. the only way you could win this silent battle was actually attending kindergarten, even if you had a pounding headache and had woken up on the wrong side of bed.

now you were seated on the floor, your mother on the soft couch as she worked to style your hair.

"i don't want to go," you grumbled, hissing when your mother had accidentally pulled at your hair ('oh, sorry honey'). "but i have to."

"yes, you do," your mother hummed in agreement, and you had quickly corrected her.

"no, not like that, mommy," you said, playing with the ends of your skirt as you attempted to explain yourself and what you really meant. "i have to because — because there's this really dumb boy that's just keeping on ruining things.”

"you mean keeps on ruining things?"

you sighed loudly, feeling restless. at the moment, the way you spoke was the least of your concerns. your mother could correct you later, not when you were in distress.

"i'm sorry, go on," she said, but you could hear the amusement in her voice, as if she’d made an attempt to mask her laughter (it didn't work). "what's his name?"

"he has a girl name," you said, feeling smug again. “i told him he has a girl name.”

"y/n, that's not nice," said mom, although she was gentle with her scolding.

"he's not nice," you replied defensively. “anyways, his name is megumi."

your mom laughed softly, tightening your pony tail and then leaning forward to fix the baby hairs with a bit of gel. she knew to use very little of it seeing as you disliked the way it felt on your head.

"that is a girl name, isn't it?"

"mhm," you nodded ('y/n don't move, i'll make a mistake).

"but…” she said, lifting you and putting you on the couch so you were now facing each other in order to do the front of your hair neatly. she spoke slowly so as to remain concentrated on your hair. "you still... can't... say that now, can you... hm, y/ n?"

you shrugged, and then immediately apologised when you realised you had moved.

"he deserves it."

“i'm sure... he does." said mom, smiling ever so slightly. "he's... megumi-what?"

she used a small toothbrush to clean out the sides of your forehead.

"megumi fushigo."

your mother paused, leaning back and staring at you in surprise. the toothbrush was still firm in her grip, but it was no longer pressed against your hair due to her arms deflating. she raised her eyebrows at you, mouth parted in what looked like to you as realisation.

"you mean fushiguro?" she said, taking you by surprise too.

"yeah, i said that," you responded easily. "how do you know him?"

"oh no, i don't know him,” she told you honestly, lifting the toothbrush and getting back to work with the gel again. “but i know the fushiguros. they live across from us, y/n.”

you looked up at your mom, mouth agape.

"he's our neighbour?"

"they have been... for... some time... yes," she answered, nodding slightly.

it seemed as though the universe was on your side: this meant that you could sabotage him if you really wanted to, too. who was to stop you from shouting out his door number in class? what if you met his parents and made a formal complaint about him? surely even a five year old could have some influence over matters such as a small rivalry?

"can i egg his door?"

“y/n."

"sorry."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

"y/n, you know the boogeyman guy?" said amira khalil, timid after she'd explained how she had to work up the courage to approach you.

you nodded.

"yeah, my mommy and i feed him every night," you said calmly, head down as you coloured in the big monster you'd drawn. "i think i already told you about him."

"you did,” said amira, confirming your thoughts. she was twiddling her thumbs, looking nervous. “i searched up him online with my older sister... i saw a video."

you looked up at her, patiently waiting for her to complete her sentence. she must have approached you for more than just some small information on what she'd got up to with her sister the other night. you guessed that maybe it had something to do with your knowledge.

"how do i protect myself from the boogeyman?" she finally asked, picking at her nails.

you shrugged.

“if my mommy and me forget to feed him, then he might come out."

amira's hesitant smile had dropped completely, brows raised and lip wobbling.

"but it's okay! we always remember to feed him," you reassured her. “but sometimes i can forget when someone distracts me — like if you — if you keeping on using the colouring pens when i need them — sometimes — sometimes it stays on my mind so i forget to feed him in the night.”

the poor girl did not look reassured in the slightest.

"but... but what if you get distracted over somefing else and then — then you f-forget to feed him?"

"that won't happen because he's not even real," said megumi, who had somehow appeared behind you despite this classroom not being his.

amira's cheeks flushed a warm colour.

“he’s not?"

you slammed your hand against the table and stood up.

“this is distracting me" you snapped, to which amira's eyes had widened and she realised what that meant.

"don't worry! i'll try and get my mom to remind your mom to feed him tonight."

and thankfully, before megumi could interrupt her straight-forward thoughts even further, she ran away, heading for the toilets.

you sighed irritably. this interaction had completely altered the rest of your day. instead of sitting in front of the tv for the rest of the evening, now you had a change of plans: sit by the home telephone and impersonate your own mother to make sure the news never got to your mom.

"why are you even here? this isn't your class, imposter!"

"i had to give something to miss huckleberry."

"go away, fushigo."

“it's — never mind."

———

"y/n, are you meant to be here?" miss turner had asked you, but only after you had entered the doors of the other class.

you noticed the most biggest difference between your classroom and the other classroom: the teacher’s desk was not on the left side, it was on the right. furthermore, there were only four group tables, not five, leaving more carpet space. instead of two toy boxes, there were three, filled to the brim with toys like lego, dolls and trucks.

you preferred your own classroom, especially when this one's bookshelf lacked any personality (where were the pretty fairy lights?).

"yeah, i am," you answered with a smile. "i — um — i had — i had to — i had to give something to you from miss huckleberry."

"oh?" said miss turner, and you had seen her big, brows eyes scan your empty hands. on instinct, you put them behind your back and smiled. "so... what is it? where is it?"

"um —”

and then you heard that dawdling voice again.

"it's not even real.”

you desperately wanted to turn around and elbow him in the face. you were the same height, it would have definitely worked too, but though you were impulsive, you were not reckless — in the direct presence of a teacher, his teacher too, you knew better.

miss turner's eyes had darted from you to megumi, curiosity lacing her soft features.

"what do you mean by that, megumi?"

"she's lying, miss."

one day, you vowed, as miss turner walked you back to your class by your hand, you will find a way to annoy him just as much as he annoys you.

———

the playground seemed even bigger now that everyone had been occupied by the new toys brought to fill the toy boxes inside. at first, you felt excited about it: new toys meant new entertainment. however, after seeing what the toys were, it had not taken you too long to lose interest.

still, there were a fair few of you outside, playing tag and running around till your breaths ran out.

you were on the twin swings with gabriela robinson (short name: gabi). it would have been enjoyable if that teacher assistant wasn't practically breathing down your neck, making sure everyone was behaving. why couldn't she have watched from the top of the slide? it created a wider field of vision anyway, why was she choosing to stand behind you?

“look, it’s megumi on the bike!” gabi had pointed out.

indeed, she was correct: it really was megumi on a bike, simply riding around with it in circles.

boring, you thought in your head.

"you know, megumi has a girl name, how funny is that?" you gossiped in hushed tones, chuckling and giggling at the thought just as megumi had passed you with the bike.

you almost choked on your own giggles when megumi slid to a stop right in front of you. he did not look pleased.

"y/n, that's not very nice," that annoying voice of the teacher assistant had cut in.

your smile fell, serious-looking as you turned your head to look back at her and say, “i wasn't talking to you."

the woman's face had turned angry.

"go to the naughty corner!"

you did not put up a fight. you got off the swings, glared at megumi (he was still looking at you without any visible emotion) and then walked yourself back inside.

you made another vow to yourself: that stupid teacher assistant would be your enemy from that day onwards.

———

"i saw your dad yesterday," you said to megumi, approaching him on the playground by the sand pit.

neither of you were in the sand pit. in fact, megumi looked disgusted at the mere sight of it. he was such a picky person in your mind — had he spent most of recess simply judging the sand pit?

he seriously needed help.

"why is he so fat?" you asked bluntly.

if your statement earlier hadn't caught his attention, what you just commented did. oddly enough, he did not look as offended as you had expected him to be. he simply looked... baffled, as though the way his dad looked was self-explanatory (which, it was, he was fat in your eyes, so why did he look at you like what you had just asked was all sorts of wrong?).

"he's not fat,” he said, just as bluntly. he stared back at you as though it were obvious.

"yes he is," you shot back, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "i saw him. and i saw him taking you to school so that — that means he's fat in the morning and fat at night too!"

he exhaled through his mouth, looking away and grumbling something about how he thought his mom was lying about you living near. you ignored that, still demanding answers.

"so why is he fat?"

“he’s not,” said megumi, emphasising the final word. “it’s his muscles.”

"does he eat too much?" you questioned as if you hadn't heard him. "what do you guys always have for dinner? probably — probably — er — burgers and fries and soda and lots of ice cream right? but your dad maybe takes too much, is that why you're so skinny?"

megumi's gaze hardened, face stony as he clarified harshly, "it's called muscles.”

but then a thought had just occurred to you, one that had you absolutely startled and staring off into space, watching as alexa clement hopped off the swings and left it moving back and forth with momentum. what if, you questioned to yourself, megumi ended up like his dad? what if he ended up learning how to be extremely fat?

you didn't hate megumi, of course. you never hated him, you just found him to be a thorn at your side. however, that did not mean that you would allow even a thorn at your side to grow as fat as his very father.

"megumi...”

and now you found yourself unwilling to imagine a very unhealthy and fat megumi, yet your brain just did not listen to you, the picture already set in your head. you slowly turned your head to look at him, eyes wide with worry.

"what.”

"oh my gosh... what if you end up like that?"

he looked as deadpanned as ever.

“i won’t.”

"megumi it's — it's gonna be fine because — because my mommy learned me how to make a lunchbox," you explained seriously. "i’ll help you make a healfy one so you — like — you don't look like your dad and become fat.”

"leave me alone," he said, annoyed.

he kicked and stomped at the floor, the sand left over flying up and entering your mouth. you coughed and spat at the floor, shouting at megumi, but you had heard the sound of his footsteps distancing themselves from you, a little too fast to be considered a walk. he had run away from you after leaving you to practically die at the taste of sand.

“MIIIIIIISS!”

———

the middle of october meant that there would be a parent-teacher conference. although it seemed too early (the other kindergarten schools do it much later on in the year) the one week holiday was nearing and it meant that a formal report had to be given to your parents about your behaviour, attitude to learning, relationships with other students, etc.

a lot of the parents had lined up by the double doors, the wall separating the two classrooms had been pushed away somehow (you had sat staring at it for a while) and the classrooms were now merged to be one big ‘boss' classroom (as you would say).

with the rest of you students having nothing to do but wait for your parents to finish their individual meetings with your teachers, you all huddled together and made conversation. you learnt the names of the students from the other class, interacted with them, and asked which of the adults were their parents.

your mother seemed to be running late, so you couldn't answer that question.

but someone (david yeboah) had asked megumi (who was standing across from you) who his dad was.

after megumi's stunt the other day, you felt the need to get back at him, embarrass him if you will. anyway, it wasn't your fault that his dad didn't have a healthy diet.

“guys,” you said loudly, as though you were making an important announcement — you were. "megumi's dad is a fatty!"

all of the kids stared at you in awe, some had even whispered ‘really?'. you nodded, ignoring the hard stare megumi was directing at you.

"yeah," you said in a hushed tone, quiet, but loud enough for all of the kids to hear you. “i saw him, he's really big, it's true! megumi's dad is a fatty —"

you turned around, nearly bumping head first into... megumi's dad's legs. you looked up, heart pounding from the vision above you.

if you thought he was big from a distance, then god knows what you thought now. his chest took up your entire sight, he was large enough to crush you with his fat hands if he so pleased.

the smirk that you had seen him wear before in the early mornings by his house had faded now. though, to your pleasure, he did not look angry at all. sure, his dark brows were knitting together as he looked down at you, and sure, his eyes were squinted. but he looked more confused than he did angry.

still, the realisation that he had heard you call him a 'fatty' made your heart race. not to mention, he looked terrifying from down there.

without a word, you simply turned the other way and speed-walked to the toy box, distancing yourself from him.

"woah…” you muttered to yourself, pressing a hand to your chest and feeling your heart beat hardly against it. “scary.”

———

you were sat by the book corner, a few other people occupying the bean bags with you. the school had bought a ton of new books for you to read, so lately, you'd been spending most of your time by the bookshelves and less and less of your time terrorising the other kids (and that teacher assistant).

you believed that the new books had been the best investment the school had made. however, it was bothersome when the other kids would beg you for story times again when you were clearly occupied.

besides that, it was blissful being able to find new entertainment in such a boring place.

at the moment, you had been showing your classmates the fiction book you had in your hands, a book that miss huckleberry stated had been shipped straight from the uk (someone failed in doing a good british accent too and it made you cringe).

it was about this girl (she had a silly name, you thought) called goldilocks and her adventure with the house belonging to three talking bears.

"no, david, that's not how the story went," you said wisely. “the baby bear went back in the room and saw goldilocks ru— ru— ruining everyfing.”

"that's not even real.”

you looked up: megumi was standing by the entrance of the book fort you had made for the book corner. he looked serious (when did he not?) and he was staring at the book held up in your small hands. in his own arms was a larger book, thin enough to imply that there wasn't much story to it, but unlike the other books, the book he possessed had real life images as its cover.

"it's goldilocks and the three bears," you informed him, eyes narrowed.

"yeah... and it's not even real."

"it's a book!"

he held up his own one.

"this is a book too."

"yeah, so that's not real either!"

"it is,” he said, with a tone of finality.

you were not having it:

"how come your book is real and mine isn't?"

"mine is non-fiction," said megumi, and you felt glee in your chest when he nearly stuttered over the word 'non-fiction’. megumi had never stuttered before, but he was also not super human either. he was the same as the rest of you. "yours is fiction. fiction means fake —"

"MIIIIIIISS! MEGUMI’S LYING!"

"y/n i am sitting right near you, you do not have to yell.”

———

though the academic year had not even been close to ending, the kindergarten had made a boring, old tuesday an open-day for future students to attend. current students were still required to go to school like usual, only, towards home-time, the kindergarten would be open till eight o’clock in the evening.

the year before, you had not stayed that late, seemingly bored with the idea. this year, however, your mother had to work late and could not pick you up. conveniently (for her, not you), the open-day fell right on her work overtime-day. she did not have to call for one of your aunts to come look after you (a hassle for her, really, because although her family loved you, they believed that you were a devil-child, hence the difficulty in trying to get them to come over).

several other kids had stayed back too, but only out of their own will.

apart from one particular child — megumi fushiguro.

he did not look happy at the prospect of staying for longer than when the clock hit three o’clock (home-time). you shared his displeasure silently, though there really was no need for him to be there, you noted, for you had seen his father accompany other parents by the coffee stand.

had he been forced there too? megumi’s fat dad looks annoyed, you thought to yourself.

you did not dwell too much on the thought, for you and the remaining kids had decided to play hide-and-seek. some of the new kids — accompanied by their parents — had joined in too. you did not mind, the more the merrier, especially when your actual classmates had refused to allow you not to be seeker.

you shrugged, uncaring of which role you played in the game.

so, eyes shut, you counted from one to twenty:

“one… two… three…” you counted, already bored. you continued. “…ten… eleven… twelve-thirteen-fourteen-fifteen —”

“hey no fair that’s cheating!” some whiny voice you didn’t recognise had spoken.

you scowled, turning around to see who it was: no surprise, it had been some random kid, not one of your classmates who knew better than to doubt you.

“found you, you’re out.”

the ginger kid looked scandalised.

“but —”

“sixteen… seventeen… eighteen…”

he ran off crying somewhere.

“nineteen-twenty!” you shouted quickly, jumping up and uncovering your eyes excitedly. “ready or not, here i come!”

you skipped along the classroom, picking out several dumb kids who had hidden in places that were very obvious to you. another one of those random new kids had stayed in the centre of the carpet (which was out in the open), crouched with his eyes shut.

you stared at him, deadpanned.

“i found you.”

and he had the audacity to ask “how?”.

dumb kid, you thought, as you walked out to the playground and saw some kids hiding behind the slide. in order to get there, you had to pass the coffee stand.

the sight of the teacher assistant looking bored and annoyed pleased you: a smile radiated your face which had previously been decorated with scowls and frowns.

you skipped past megumi’s dad along the way.

“hey fat-man we’re just playing hide-and-seek!” you informed him happily.

you did not wait for his response as you continued to run away, a jump in your step as you slowly got closer and closer to the slide; you had passed a stoic megumi, who simply stood there as you casually insulted his father. you could have sworn that you heard the insulted man audibly grunt, muttering something that sounded like ‘who is that child?’.

you did not have the time to entertain his questions: those kids were getting away.

———

mondays were the worst days in your opinion: it was the start of the week, meaning that you still had four more days to go before the weekend would arrive. the weekend was also only two days long, one day which you would spend stressing about monday being the day after that. it was unnecessary stress for a five year old.

mondays were also the days where that annoying teacher assistant would stay in your class more than the other class. you didn’t want her there, so why was she always present? it irked you, she held no purpose, really.

it had been nearing lunch time as you sat on the grass on the playground with two other girls: kimberly garnett and alexa clement. they had been telling you about how, apparently, a boy from the other class (alejandro henderson) had a crush on one of the girls from your class, though it was undiscovered who.

ultimately, it was a gossip session.

but the conversation of alejandro and his secret crush was starting to bore you. it was not long before the topic had changed.

“why is megumi alone all them times?” said kimberly, who had craned her head over her shoulder to look at the dark-haired boy — he was staring at some cat that had somehow ended up in the playground.

none of you had actually answered the question. none of you ever answered any questions, you simply spoke for the sake of it.

you leaned in, face gleaming with excitement as you put a hand over your mouth to whisper.

“megumi looks like a porcupine —”

“y/n!”

you stared up at the teacher assistant who somehow spawned in front of you. her eyes were fierce and demanding, staring at you with indignation. how had she heard you? you had been certain that you were whispering. did she somehow have super ears?

you did not say anything, choosing to remain silent. she raised a pointed brow at you, as though to say ‘explain yourself’, but you did not submit.

instead, with a sigh, you stood up, dusted your skirt off, and walked yourself back inside, claiming the time-out seat without having to be asked. and all the while, you felt eyes burn holes at the back of your head, knowing full well that they did not belong to the nosy teacher assistant.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

the autumn season had hit hard as the month of october had slowly come to an end. by the point it had turned into november, you were now attending school with mittens, scarves, and a big coat.

one particular morning, you had woken up feeling giddy: your hatred towards summer was unmatched. in your mind, the autumn and winter days were the best, no questions asked.

you had gotten out of bed with a smile (for the first time in a while) and attended kindergarten without any protests — your mother had been pleasantly surprised and there were no complaints.

even the sight of megumi did not evoke annoyance out of you.

the kids had stopped asking for the stories you would tell seeing as darkness would hit the skies earlier than what you had all been used to: it meant that there would be more time for fear of the evil entities you told them all about should they ask for the stories. it was convenient, for you could still practically control your peers through the threats of the previous stories whilst also not being annoyed by being asked for new ones. besides, halloween had only just passed too, and kenji lee had claimed that he’d seen someone dressed up as the bloody ginger-woman — you did not believe him because you made that woman up for one of your old stories. ‘she wasn’t even real,’ you had said to him, and then slapped a hand over your mouth when you realised just who you had begun to sound like.

one particular frosty day, you approached megumi on the playground and simply stood beside him, curious to see what he had been staring at for the past five minutes. he gave you an odd look, but did not question you for accompanying him.

until he did.

rudely, too, you had to add.

“why are you just standing there, megumi?”

“why is your hands so pale right now?”

“what are you staring at?”

“how does your hair stay like that?”

“why —”

“what do you even want?” he had snapped, turning his head ever so slightly so as to glare at you with his cold, dark eyes.

you laughed.

“you can’t — you can’t — you can’t answer a question with — with another question,” you told him, chuckling. “silly billy.”

“you just asked me ten hundred… million… billion questions,” he scowled, looking away from you to stare at something in the distance again.

“that’s not a number —”

“shut up.”

“i’ll tell miss.”

“miss never believes you.”

you shrugged. fair point, you had thought. he raised a good argument. it was odd, any time you told off of anyone, it always ended up backfiring. however, if it were anyone else telling off of you instead, you’d end up warming up the naughty chair for a future sitter (most likely you again) as per usual.

“so…” you began, bending your knees slightly to crouch a little and reach megumi’s downcast eyes. “you didn’t answer my question.”

“which one?”

“what are you staring at?” you repeated, standing up straight again and letting your fingers intertwine in the comfort of your unconnected pocket of your coat.

megumi hesitated before answering.

“i saw a fox when my dad dropped me off.”

you looked around, inspecting the bushes.

“well maybe you was seeing monsters,” you said wisely. “my mommy says —”

“your mom never said anything,” megumi cut in icily, “it’s always you.”

for some reason, you did not find it in you to be offended. maybe it was because he hadn’t been lying — it was true: your mother never actually said anything, you simply used her as a way to lie about untrue facts. it was good to use someone older as a guide, less people denied your statements because of them. adults simply couldn’t be wrong.

“ok,” you began, unsure of where to continue. “okay well my mommy says i have to play with lonely kids so i’m just gonna play with you, all right?”

megumi, with his hands shoved in his designer coat (he was rich? his father didn’t look rich), glared at you, looking mildly offended. what had you said wrong?

it seemed that you would never know, not when he hadn’t bothered to say.

“no,” he said instead, and his tone seemed final.

you grinned. “oh, was that a yes?”

“no— i said no.”

you ignored him, feeling fidgety as you perked up excitedly.

“okay ready steady tag you’re it!”

you tapped him on his arm, excitedly running away from him. you knew that he wouldn’t chase after you, so you opted to not run very far and then skip around him, running in circles as he remained in the centre. and as per usual, he wore his signature scowl.

“stop it you’re making me dizzy,” said megumi.

you didn’t stop. you continued to run around him in circles, urging him to play.

“don’t you know how to play tag?” you asked, teasingly. “you know everything except tag —”

“no,” said megumi, but you could tell his resolve was faltering.

“i’m gonna keep running around you megumi! it’s fun!”

megumi stood completely still as your excitement grew, the blood beneath your skin running with adrenaline as the beat of your heart increased. with you alternating between skips and runs, you were slowly growing out of breath; mixed with your laughter only made it harder to keep it all up.

until the circles had stopped — megumi’s eye twitched and the next thing you knew, the dark haired boy was charging at you.

you squealed, frightened as you tried jogging away, but with how much you had ran in circles previously, your speed was not your greatest. it felt like a dream, your feet hitting the ground slowly.

“no — megumi —” you shouted, scared as you looked back and saw him catching up. “i didn’t” — you gasped for air — “think” — you exhaled — “you would” — you let out a breath — “actually chase me!”

and you had learnt a new thing about megumi that day: as small as you both were, his little legs took him far. he was probably the most speediest kid you had seen in your five years of living, the lesson learnt extremely well when you felt a hand press against your shoulder, pushing you forwards as you stumbled and halted, nearly falling over as you gathered your breath.

you turned around, shoulders raising and falling, chest heaving as you stared at him. his hair was still as dishevelled as ever, but he looked more ruffled than he usually did, tiny breaths of air falling from his nose.

“got you,” he had mumbled under his breath, staring back at you fiercely.

you looked back at him, scrambling for excuses.

“actually you didn’t get me,” you told him, extending your arm to hold onto the red roundabout, the crisp autumn leaves decorating its floor. “see? i’m home. you can’t get me because i’m safe.”

you gestured to the connection between your touch and the roundabout.

megumi’s brows had furrowed, a crease forming between his dark brows on his pale skin. he did not seem to agree with you, but unlike the other kids, it seemed as though he would keep up an argument with you.

“you just made that up,” he said, sounding confident in his statement.

“no,” you denied, truthfully. “ask — ask — er —” you stammered, looking around for a potential helper.

david had been crossed off the list immediately — he was rather stupid. kenji had been crossed too — he would try and go against you out of fun. nia akello, a girl from the other class you and megumi were both familiar with, would be perfect. she was not biased and had also been a victim of the ‘home’ rule in tag you’d introduced some time before.

“ask nia!” you said brightly, and before megumi could say anything in an argument, you waved at nia and called for her. “nia! hey! over here!”

confused and shocked, nia akello ran over to where you and megumi had been standing, out of breath by the time she had reached the two of you (it had been a short distance, arguably).

“nia, isn’t it true that —”

“shut up you’ll cheat,” snapped megumi.

you hadn’t been silenced by him, necessarily, you had been silenced into shock. and offence. you were very offended by the way he had spoken to you publicly.

whether he’d seen your expression or not, he had made no indication, for megumi had not wasted a second before he rushed into speaking to nia.

“is ‘home’ real in tag?”

“yep!” said nia, beaming. “can i go now?”

“n—”

“yes you can, nia,” you smiled, shooing her away before megumi could corrupt her into believing that a ‘home’ in tag did not exist.

to be completely honest, it didn’t exist. you simply made that up when you got tired of running so much and needed a break. in your defence, it was good! it made the game more interesting after all, what’s not to like about it?

apparently quite a lot of things, for megumi did not look the tiniest bit impressed (not that you had expected him to be anyway).

“fine,” said megumi, taking you by surprise. you took your hand off the roundabout as you listened to him speak. “the swings is the new home.”

“what —”

“i’m gonna chase you now.”

megumi took a step back, sliding his feet against the concrete as an act of intimidation — it was working.

you scrambled to look for an out.

“but —”

“five… four…”

“megumi —”

“three…”

“that’s not fai—”

“two…”

“wait!”

“one-and-a-half…”

“UGH!” you sighed, jumping up and running away with as much speed as you could gather.

megumi was on your heels the second you had taken off, having reached zero on his countdown. you had realised (as you pushed past several people to get away from the evil child), that you had foolishly ran away without looking at where you were heading, now finding yourself further and further away from the swings.

you looked back, cautious, and immediately regretted it when megumi’s face appeared inches from your own.

you let out a yelp at the sight of his raised hand and swerved away.

“this is —” you gasped out, scrunching up your dress as you ran; you had very nearly been caught, “SCARY!”

your throat grew dry, panting for breath whilst you dodged megumi’s hand. you made the dumb decision of looking back again, letting out a squeak when you had realised just how close he was getting.

“I WANT MY MOMMY —”

it had seemed that your call for your mother had drawn the attention of miss turner, the teacher of the other class. previously, she had been looking over the sandpit and making sure your peers hadn’t been making a mess, but as you neared it, she’d looked up and caught you sprinting.

“y/n? what’s —”

“MIIIIIIIISS!” you cried, just as megumi’s palm had fallen flat against your back.

dramatically, you tumbled forwards, sliding against the concrete and lying against it despite your disgust with all the dirt.

you opened your eyes, met with the sight of megumi staring down at you, chest heaving as he let out little pants out of exhaustion. still, even in his tired state, he did not look the slightest bit pleased.

“i win.”

you sat up, groaning. “no you —”

megumi did not wait for you to say your piece before he left, saying something to miss turner and then entering the building again without looking back at you.

and all the while, you smiled at the thought that you had basically forced megumi to play with you.

but that had been before you’d taken a look at the state you were in, and then inwardly cursed at yourself for playing such a dangerous game with a kid who had little care for anything at all.

home-time that day had been amusing too. your mother had been running late (miss huckleberry had informed you earlier) so you spent the time sitting outside with members of the other class and getting to know them better — it was mainly due to the fact that the teacher assistant had once again been breathing down your neck, you simply had to get away from her.

your chats were being cut short as the parents began turning up, which made you rather bored.

up until the point where megumi had to leave.

megumi had been sitting in the corner, a little two meter distance between you and the rest of his class. you had no idea whether that was a normal thing or not, you didn’t bother questioning it, merely chatting along with the other girls.

but then you’d heard miss turner say something rather interesting.

“megumi,” she had said, calling out to him from beside you. “you can go, your dad’s here.”

when indeed, his dad was not there. you frowned, looking around for the fat man that you knew to be megumi’s father. there were only several mothers, young women with strollers and other dads already occupied by their own children.

but in the far distance, approaching you all slowly, had been a man with white hair, taller than anyone you had ever seen, and wearing round, opaque sunglasses despite the weather being very gloomy.

but that simply couldn’t be megumi’s father: you knew megumi’s father. you’s seen megumi’s father. you’d spoken to megumi’s father. and that man, wearing a smirk worth gold, was certainly not megumi’s father.

and it seemed that megumi had agreed.

“he’s not my dad,” he had grumbled, hiding the lower part of his face behind his designer coat.

“yes, yes, your godfather —”

“you have a godfather?” you spoke up, curious.

megumi glared at you, eyes narrowed.

“i didn’t know that!” you beamed, looking back at the white-haired man.

you hopped off of the long bench you had been sitting on, approaching megumi without taking your eyes off of the man.

odd, you had thought then. the man looked very different, his hair colour was unique, his style was very questionable too (mainly the sunglasses). his hairstyle made sense, you decided to yourself — it was nearly as messy as megumi’s, but not quite as dishevelled.

you leaned in, placing a hand over your mouth to whisper. megumi did not lean in.

“so is your dads gay?”

he stared at you, startled.

“huh?”

it had been the first time you’d seen megumi appear shocked.

“because — because you have two dads,” you clarified helpfully. megumi still appeared to be taken aback. “so is your dads ga—”

“no,” he answered. “they don’t even like each other —”

“so why do you have two dads?”

“i don’t.”

“oh! is he your grandpapa?” you asked, eyes brightening. the white hair would make sense, then.

“no,” said megumi harshly. “he’s not anything.”

“hm,” you thought, looking at the white-haired man speaking to some other teacher. “so is he alb— albin— alban— is he albanian?”

megumi blinked at you.

“what?”

“don’t make me say it again,” you said. “it’s a hard word.”

“albanian?”

“yeah… i think. is he that?”

megumi stared at you for a short while before looking away, staring at the man you had been gossiping about. it did not click to him for some time, it seemed, for he looked as though he were in a little daydream, thinking about what you had meant. you did not have the energy to repeat yourself: as you had claimed, it was indeed a hard word.

luckily for you, a lightbulb had clicked on in megumi’s brain, and he looked at you with a frown.

“he’s not albino,” he had stated firmly. “do you even know what a godfather is?”

“yes!” you said, defensively. was he seriously accusing you of not knowing what a godfather actually was? how pathetic.

yet that look he was giving you… he was expecting you to give him the definition.

if he wanted to be proved wrong so badly, why didn’t he just say so?

you stood up straight.

“it’s when god picks your dad —”

“no.”

“but my mommy says —”

“no she never.”

you scowled at him. “it’s not my fault your dad is old!”

“he’s not my —”

“megumi!” a cheery, deep voice had interrupted casually. you looked up, a shadow fell over the two of you: it was megumi’s apparent godfather, grinning toothily and quite literally showing off his pearly whites.

from up-close, he looked like more of a giant. he had to be at least eight feel tall, you had decided. maybe home-time was always done outdoors due to people like him — it would be difficult to move past a door frame with ease.

he didn’t have any wrinkles. in fact, his skin looked quite smooth, like the skin of a teenager.

but his hair…

“my son!” said the man, arms wide open as though he were about to engulf a grumpy megumi into a bone-crushing hug — you couldn’t imagine that.

you looked at megumi, who had all but disappeared behind his coat. you resisted the urge to laugh. was megumi embarrassed?

“oh — megumi — finally made a friend?”

the man looked down at you, grinning.

“we’re not friends,” you heard megumi utter, but you ignored him (as per usual).

instead, you directed your attention to the man.

“how old are you?”

you thought you’d heard megumi groan.

the man’s grin had fallen, but reappeared just as fast as it had dropped. he bent down to your height, his arm hanging over his bent knee as he came face-to-face with you.

“why don’t you guess?”

your answer was quick.

“eighty-seven.”

and this time, when his grin had fallen, it had not returned.

“why would you say that?” snapped megumi, who had reappeared from his hiding place behind his coat. he looked irked, irritated, and annoyed. whether it had been at you or his guardian, you had no clue.

“okay… seventy nine?”

“what the hell?” demanded the man. you were unsure at who he was looking at now — his sunglasses were more opaque than they had seemed from afar.

megumi had turned away, something about ‘now i have to deal with it’ — you weren’t quite sure. you frowned, looking back at the man. he looked scandalised, outraged, and disappointed.

your jaw had dropped.

“you just sweared!” you gasped, eyes accusatory. “my mommy says swearing is bad.”

“well your mommy should’ve taught you what an old person looks like,” the man responded, a bite in his tone.

“she did! they’re like you!”

“i am not old!”

“you really aren’t?” you asked, expecting it to do less damage than it actually would.

“i’m not even twenty-one yet!” the man pouted, looking nearly faint.

“really?” you said, eyeing him up and down. “you look like — you look like you’ve — you’ve seen the world. like santa. are you santa? —”

“megumi,” said the man, standing up to his full height and turning away, adjusting the glasses sitting on top of his nose. “we’re leaving.”

“finally.”

you watched them go, frowning when the tall man looked back at you over his shoulder and stuck his tongue out at you. you scowled: father christmas was supposed to be nice to kids. maybe you needed to write a letter to the north pole about a formal complaint on him.

“guys,” you said, turning to look at the remaining kids still waiting for their parents to arrive. “i met father christmas!”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

“i know what godfather means,” you stated proudly.

you and megumi were on the bikes. you had already been seated on one, megumi was starting to climb on the one next to you. he hadn’t looked at you once as he silently placed his feet on the pedals, brows furrowed in concentration as he gripped onto the handles.

“do you want to know what my mommy said?”

you stared at him with wide eyes, smiling despite the fact that nothing was actually amusing; you were still buzzing with excitement about the fact that megumi had a godfather. how sick was that? you’d never met someone with a godfather!

“no,” said megumi, checking the bell and seeing if it was able to ring well.

ding! ding!

“i’m gonna tell you anyways,” you informed him brightly. “my mommy s—”

ding!

you paused, beginning again after you the last ring of the bell had echoed.

“my mommy —”

ding!

“she says —”

ding! ding!

you frowned.

“my mommy says tha—”

ding! ding! ding!

you scowled.

“mommy-says-that-a-godfather —”

ding! ding! ding! ding!

your eyes narrowed as you placed your feet on the pedals and began cycling so that you were now face-to-face with megumi.

“you’re doing that on purpose!” you accused him, a crease formed in between your brows when you furrowed them.

megumi shrugged. “am i?”

“you can’t —” you began, stammering, “you can’t — you can’t answer a question by asking another one.” you shook your head at him. “you just can’t.”

megumi ignored you, taking off by pedalling away from you. you watched him leave, offended, before pedalling faster to catch up with him. several kids were in your way, using hula-hoops and skipping ropes that megumi had skilfully avoided. you, on the other hand, were in a rush to catch up to the boy, so you simply used your bell to alert them of your appearance.

ding! ding!

“‘scuse me! ‘scuse me! coming through!”

you were pretty sure someone fell somewhere behind you; you did not care.

it hadn’t taken long before you’d caught up to megumi. you cycled with him, nearly bumping your bike into his.

“you’re being mean, megumi.”

“ok.”

“anyways, my mommy says a godfather is a dad your parents chosed.”

megumi let out a noise, something between a grunt and a groan. “i don’t want to talk about him.”

“it’s okay! i kept your secret… kind of,” you said, as the both of you turned your bikes in the direction of the open space in the playground.

“secret?” said megumi, glancing at you from the corner of his eye without turning his head.

“mhm!” you nodded, smiling. “your godfather is santa —”

“no he’s no—”

you interrupted him by cheekily bumping your bike with his. his reaction had not been nearly the same as you had initially imagined: instead of being motivated, he nearly fell off his bike and glared at you once he’d regained his balance.

you cleared your throat, pedalling faster as you zoomed past him.

“race you!”

you hadn’t expected to actually hear a pair of wheels following after you. but you had slowly started to grow aware of the subtle surprises megumi could bring you.

later on that day, you hadn’t felt like going back to miss huckleberry’s class. when you had told megumi that your class were going to do a colouring task together, megumi had revealed that his class were going to do a painting task together. immediately you longed for the paints rather than the colouring pencils.

it wouldn’t be you if you never tried to do something about it; feeling adventurous, when the call had been given for all kids to go back to their respective classrooms, you had followed megumi back inside the door opposite yours.

he hadn’t noticed you then, perhaps that had been the reason why he’d given you an odd look when you took the empty seat beside him on the carpet.

“you’re not allowed here.”

“‘course i am!” you replied, smiling as you sat just like him — criss-cross-apple-sauce.

you smoothed out the creases on your dress as he gave you a blank look.

“you’ll get in trouble,” he informed you as though you’d been blissfully unaware (to him, it seemed like you were).

“if you keep saying stuff like that it means that you care if i — if i get in trouble so yeah.”

he gave you a look of disgust before he turned to face the board in front of the two of you, apparently careless.

“i don’t,” he said, with a tone of finality.

you shrugged, humming to yourself as you tightened the pigtails in your hair. you liked to think that he did care, even if it was quite obvious that he did not.

as the rest of the class had nearly finished filing in and taking their seats on the carpet, ms turner had sat on the chair by the teacher’s desk, looking around at you all. you watched as her big, round eyes had passed you naturally, before they’d darted back to you in surprise.

“y/n?” she voiced aloud.

megumi let out a scoff.

“told you,” he muttered, a hand over his mouth as he rested an elbow on his knee; you ignored him.

“yes miss?” you said, as though you were unaware of what was happening.

ms turner tilted her head at you, brows knitted together.

“why are you here?” she asked you, with genuine curiosity. there was no bite in her question either.

“i don’t want to draw and colour things because i think it’s boring,” you answered truthfully. “and i don’t like the ginger lady in my class so yeah. and i like painting and i like the thingy with the water paints.”

“does miss huckleberry know you’re here?”

you shook your head.

but perhaps that had been a mistake, for you had been walked back to your classroom once more (your protests fell on deaf ears).

however, that hadn't stopped you from constantly going back, returning once more to the seat beside megumi. 

the second time you had wrongly and happily entered his classroom, you made your way down to the carpet space, ready to occupy the usually-vacant seat next to megumi, only to find that the seat had been used by megumi's knee. he'd still been sitting criss-cross-apple-sauce, of course, yet his right knee had been extended to the point where a little more than half the space had been taken.

he looked up at you once he had noticed your shadow fall over his lap. he moved his knee back in place, a blank look on his face as he did so.

"did you just put your foot on that seat?" you asked, a brow raised in disgust.

"... ye—"

"well now i can't sit there because i don't know where your foot has been and it might be dirty," you said, walking around him to sit on the vacant seat on his left instead.

his eyes followed you as you moved. you could not gauge out the expression on his face: megumi was simply too hard to read, and it bothered you a bit, but not enough to make you complain too much.

it had taken a total of twenty minutes and fifty-one seconds before you'd been spotted and then escorted out of the classroom that day.

on another random day, a similar scenario had occurred where you'd been dropped off at your actual classroom by your mother, but you swerved past the door to enter the one opposite. your mother had not questioned it, deciding that during school hours, you were not her responsibility (thank god).

when you walked over to the carpet-space, you'd seen that megumi had already arrived, only, his hand was now facing palm-down on your favourite seat. you approached him as you passed a disheartened girl (inaya farhat) who'd just had a short conversation with megumi.

he looked up at you, slowly removing his hand and placing it back on his lap.

"did you just put your hand on my seat?" you asked, disgusted once again.

he glared at you. 

"yes."

the way in which he was glaring at you had you concerned (just the slightest bit). the intensity behind the way in which he looked at you had also frightened you, he looked as though you had insulted his entire family (arguably, you were nearly there).

"erm — yeah, so i hope your hand's not dirty," you said, leisurely sitting down on your designated seat. "like — like picking your nose or scratching your bum —"

"i'm not veera," said megumi. 

you frowned.

"who's veera?"

megumi faced the board, answering without sparing you another glance. 

"if you stay in this class, you'll find out."

and you did.

you had remained in the class for days after that. it became so normalised for you to be there, that even your mother would drop you off at the opposite door of your original class without question: at some point that month, your full name had been transferred from register-to-register — megumi hadn't been bothered by that, but he became quite aggressive when you kept rubbing it in his face:

"remember when you said i wasn't allowed to —"

"i get it!"

on one particular afternoon, where parents and carers were allowed to enter the classroom and observe the work their kids had done in their respective books before collecting them, you had found yourself in a sticky situation.

after megumi's father had come in (and quite literally stood at the back and simply nodded his head at his son in acknowledgment), you and megumi had gotten into a heated debate about which types of books were better. where you were more interested in fiction and fake reality, megumi argued that non-fiction and actuality was better.

you strongly disagreed, so you attempted to prove your point by leading him to the book corner and pulling out some of your personal favourites, one of them being 'the hungry caterpillar'.

"i like this one," you told him, handing the book over to him. he looked skeptical as he flipped through the pages. "and you can't say it's not even real because it is."

"hmph," said megumi, looking grumpy.

he didn't look as displeased with your suggestions as he usually did, so you decided that you'd won him over.

"what else?" he asked.

you beamed, hurriedly bending down to where you'd hidden your most precious book. your little hand plunged itself underneath the shelf and searched for it with earnest, pulling it out once you'd felt its laminated cover beneath your skin.

"this one," you said, standing back up and presenting it to him. again, he looked skeptical, but you had won him over once, surely you could do it a second time? "noisy nora."

he took the book from your hands and, like before, skimmed through it. his face scrunched up in disgust.

"that one is my most bestest book in the whole wide wor—"

"rats can't speak."

you looked up; megumi was stoic.

your smile had turned to a scowl.

"well jokes on you, nora's not a rat. she's a mouse."

megumi ignored you, going over to his side of the book corner where the non-fiction books were kept and pulled out a large one, pages thin and smooth. he turned around and showed it to you as you bent back down and shoved 'noisy nora' back under the book shelf.

from where you were sat on your knees, you could see that the title of megumi's book read 'how a caterpillar turns into a butterfly'.

you stood back up again, analysing the cover.

"looks boring," you commented.

"it's real."

"'the hungry caterpillar' tells a real story."

you walked away from the book corner and megumi followed, still looking very unimpressed with your opinion on his most favourite book.

however, as you aimed to make your way to the toy box, you stopped just as you'd entered the carpet space at the sound of a baby. your face formed an expression of confusion. what was a baby doing here at the kindergarten?

you turned in the direction of where the sound was coming from. megumi had been quietly complaining about something, but his discontent had fallen on deaf ears, for your eyes were focused on the blonde, snotty child wobbling towards you, her blue eyes wide with excitement.

spit bubbled at the corner of her mouth, the same mouth that was slowly taking in all the snot running down her nose.

your eyes widened, horrified at the sight before you. the sight that was slowly reaching you.

"ew," you said, watching as the child wobbled and clapped her hands — one hand gripped onto a baby-blue pacifier.

"ew..." you repeated, when the same child had dropped her pacifier on the floor.

"EW!" you cried, when the child locked eye contact with you and waddled closer.

"veeraaa!" the child sang, voice high as she nearly toppled over with her uneven balance. some of her spit had dropped onto the floor, gooey and... was that a tint of green?

"EWWWW!" you cried, making an attempt to run away but realising that megumi was behind you, resistant to your constant pushing. "OH MY GOD — OH MY GOD —"

your cries had caught the attention of nearly everyone else in the room, wondering what had been causing such a ruckus.

you felt like crying when the disgusting baby still managed to walk.

"veeeraaaaa —"

"EEEEEWWWWWWW!" you shouted, struggling to push megumi away so you could run.

the blonde kid was nearly a whole metre away from you now, giggling and singing her own name.

you'd had enough — a metre was simply too close for you.

"hey — what're you —"

yelling out your disgust, your hands grabbed onto megumi and pulled him in front of you, pushing him towards the child and practically using him as a human shield. better him than you, you'd concluded.

"veeeeraaaa!"

"AAAHH — EWWWW!"

"veeeraaa —"

"what the hell?" snapped megumi, taking several steps back in an attempt to distance himself from veera.

slowly, the disgust that you held had somehow divided so that the rest of the kids held the same sentiment. all of your classmates had begun screaming: 'ew's could be heard all around you: kids made attempts to jump over tables and chairs to get away from the blonde baby, parents were used as hiding objects so their children could stand behind them, and the blonde baby turned her attention elsewhere, approaching ruth smith who burst into tears when she waddled over to him.

the baby looked at you and megumi again. amongst all the screaming and yelling, yours still managed to be the loudest.

"EEEWW!" you cried, pushing megumi forward again. he was resistant. "MEGUMI —"

"veeeeraaa," veera sang, as sofia rylee shouted at you to run. "veeeraaa —"

"my name's megumi," said megumi, sounding annoyed and offended.

the commotion had slowly started to end when another blonde woman (who you assumed was veera's mother) ran over and picked her up, holding her in her arms as she stared at you, looking very, very offended.

you didn't care. that child of hers was disgusting, this should be a lesson to her, you had decided.

and somehow you were left out of breath, panting and exhaling as the woman turned and left, followed by miss huckleberry who had appeared out of thin air.

"that was scary," you commented, a hand pressed against your chest dramatically. "so scary."

megumi had finally turned around and regarded you with a glare.

"oh yeah?" he challenged, angry. "did you get pushed to her?"

your hand been returned back to your side.

"i had to save myself!" you explained, unable to understand megumi's anger towards you. "you would do the same!"

"no i wouldn't," said megumi. "you had more than enough room to run."

his arm had been extended to present to you the space that you neglected.

before you could respond, miss huckleberry's voice had cut through the air sharply.

"mr fushiguro!" she'd said, and both you and megumi had looked up to see what had happened.

megumi's dad was leaning against the wall, which may have looked rather innocent... till you'd squinted your eyes and caught him smiling. when miss huckleberry had appeared from chasing after the woman that had left, affronted, you had no idea, but she was here, and condemning megumi's father for his silent actions.

megumi's father simply shrugged, and megumi himself walked away, apparently embarrassed.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

you and megumi found yourself seated at your specific spaces on the carpet, arguing about a situation that had occurred merely a day prior. ever since the veera incident, everyone in your new class seemed to know your name (and just how you were like). the news had also somehow travelled to your original class, and during play time, kimberly had asked what had happened: you brushed it off, claiming that any allegations against you were untrue.

that same day, you'd even waltzed back into your old classroom saying that you no longer wanted to be part of the other class, your disgust with veera taking over any other conscious part of your mind. miss huckleberry hadn't been impressed:

"no, y/n," she'd said, sounding firm. "go back to your class."

"that's not my class anymore," you'd attempted to persuade her. you looked at megumi, who had been giving you an odd look from the door. you approached him and pulled his arm. "c'mon megumi, let's go together!"

he had not complied.

that led you to the discussion you'd been having with megumi now, both stubborn in your points.

"you never got in trouble," you told megumi, scoffing when he'd told you about how miss huckleberry had given him an earful (though apparently, she'd been a lot more gentle about it than she had with you).

"i did," said megumi, defiant. he looked away, a hand resting over his mouth to muffle his final comment. "my stupid dad didn't help either."

"what was that?"

"nothing."

"oh okay."

it hadn't taken long for the rest of the class to follow, the carpet space now being taken up by the bottoms of each and every individual that had attended the kindergarten that day.

usually the class would start by singing a nursery rhyme together (megumi would turn extra grumpy during those) but on that particular day, miss turner had decided to do something different. you had noticed how smiley she'd been that morning, but had never questioned it: she looked rather pretty when she smiled. 

"so instead of our usual nursery rhymes..." she began, creating suspense, "we're going to do something a little more special today!"

you all looked at each other, confused and excited. you felt giddy in your seat, your legs shaking in anticipation. when you'd looked at megumi, you could see the interest in his face even if he tried his best to hide it.

"so all of you are going to partner up with somebody, it can be anyone you like," said miss turner, arms spread out to represent you all, "and together, you'll make a story! it can be about anything you want, anything in the big wide world. does everyone understand?"

everyone nodded excitedly, several 'yes's could be heard as everyone had stood up, looking around for partners. you'd seen cameron peterski and kamenova petrova hold hands and skip away. you walked into the huddle of peers, spinning on the spot in an attempt to make eye contact with one of the girls.

zuri camara had come into view, and you had half a mind to ask her to be partners with you, only, you'd been reminded of the time when she had worn your costume (it was the school's property, but everyone knew that dress was practically owned by you).

so you turned away, back towards her as you approached your seat once more. megumi had been standing by it, looking at you and promptly ignoring denis ivanov, who'd been attempting to catch his attention. you grinned, skipping forward and pulling megumi by the arm.

"megumi you're my partner because i said so!"

he did not respond, but you found that pulling him to the table on the far right had been much easier than you'd expected. 

"okay so i want to make a story about a princess —"

"no."

you frowned at him, pulling the a4 sheet of paper towards you. megumi had the pencil in his hand, still out of reach. 

"what do you want to write about, dinosaurs then?" you mocked him, rolling your eyes. "oh — oh i forgot — you'll probably say it's not even real right?"

megumi, with his fingers still protecting the pencil from your clutches, stared at you, deadpanned.

"they were real," he said, matter-of-factly. "they were alive sixty five million, billion... trillion years ago."

you scoffed, unsure of whether to believe him or not. you decided not to question him, with his history of constantly being right, you knew better than to make a fool of yourself again.

"i want to make a story about a caterpillar turning into a butterfly."

"that is the most boring-est, boring story ever," you stated, unimpressed. "in the whole wide world."

megumi scowled at you. you continued.

"and everyone's gonna fall asleep like this, look." 

you demonstrated the snoring of what you imagined your peers would do at the sound of megumi's story, your forehead falling flat on the table and your pretend snores being very loud. you raised your head once more, noticing how megumi hadn't been looking. persistent, you grabbed onto his face and turned it to face you.

"you're not looking, look!"

you imitated it again, ignoring the way he'd slapped your hand off his face. your pretend snores had grown louder and megumi did not look pleased.

"you sound like a pig," he said, coldly.

"well — well you are just a rude-o."

"not a word."

"but my mommy says —"

however you had been cut off by megumi's stern look, one that practically screamed 'don't try it'.

"fine," you said, sighing. "let's play scissors-paper-rock."

"you mean rock-paper-scissors?"

you made a motion of almost choking the dark-haired boy, but stopped yourself despite your frustrations. and all the while, megumi had not once flinched. instead, he'd given you a look of annoyance. 

rock-paper-scissors had not gone well with you. you'd played three rounds, and after losing two out of the three, you'd begged to play another round, upset with your chances of losing. megumi had refused, but surprisingly, had agreed to meet you half-way, offering a compromise. 

"it's still about caterpillars and butterflies," said megumi, firmly, "but you can..." he sighed, looking as though it were physically hurting him to speak. "you can... make it less... real."

you beamed, clapping your hands excitedly and then making an attempt to grab the pencil from him once more. megumi immediately recoiled, pulling it away from you with a sharp gaze.

"but not too much," he said.

shortly after, you and megumi had started writing out your story. however, it hadn't gone as easy as you had initially expected: the road to completing the plot of your story was long and bumpy, you had been met with several obstacles along the way.

"moths can't be friends with butterflies," megumi said after you'd explained the introduction of a new character (the moth).

"you said i could make it how i want!" you argued, defensive. "well that just — that just — it means that you're just a liar then."

"says the biggest liar in this class —"

"MIIIIIIIISS!"

but that hadn't been the only issue:

"that's not how you spell 'caterpillar'," megumi commented, peering over your shoulder after he'd reluctantly handed the pencil over to you.

you looked down at your writing: cadrrpileer.

"that's not how you spell 'butterfly'."

again, you looked down at your writing: buddrflee.

"that's not how you spell moth."

once more, you looked down at your writing: moff.

irritated, you slammed the pencil down over the paper and slid the sheet over to megumi.

"well maybe you should write then!"

megumi made no complaints about taking the pencil.

"you were begging to write."

"yeah well — well — well i don't need a negative nancy next to me all them times i keep writing."

"that... made no sense."

"just write fushigo!"

"fushi-guro."

your assigned hour had been up, and when everyone had been seated on the carpet once more — rehearsing their lines in preparation to present — you and megumi read over the paper you had over and over again. really, you believed that you could recite the story without the paper, but megumi had been insistent on keeping the paper just in case.

he'd been very angry when you'd volunteered to go first together after miss turner had asked 'does anyone want to start us off?'.

so the two of you found yourself standing at the front of the class, clearing your throats in preparation. the classroom looked extremely big from where you'd been standing. having all eyes trained on you felt odd, but you were confident that your story would surprise them all.

"once upon a time, there was two caterpillars," you began, slowly.

"were," corrected megumi, shaking the sheet of paper. he'd turned to where miss turner was sitting at her desk. "miss she's not following the script."

miss turner’s brows had raised at megumi’s comment, visibly surprised. it was understandable, you concluded, for it was not as though the partners had been assigned — they were chosen. how had the two of you already fallen into a dark pit of issues?

"megumi, we can still continue with the story, it's fine," said miss turner, just as you'd stared at megumi with an affronted expression.

the rest of the class did not seem phased by the sudden intrusion, still patiently waiting for the story to continue seeing as it had barely even started yet.

"anyways… after one day, one of the caterpillars turned into a beautiful butterfly," you explained, your arms spread wide to suggest just how pretty you had imagined the butterfly to be.

"the other caterpillar is left behind —"

"yeah that caterpillar's slow for some reason," you interrupted, shrugging when megumi glared at you, waving the paper to remind you of the script.

you slapped the paper, holding back a laugh when megumi's glare had hardened (if possible).

he hastily took a step away from you as though you’d burned him and the paper in his hand. he cleared his throat; you could tell he was irritated.

"the caterpillar doesn't recognise the butterfly anymore," said megumi, sounding way too blunt for your liking.

there were gasps in the audience, and you watched as everyone's big eyes remained focused on you and megumi. you smiled toothily.

"but — like — later, the butterfly makes the caterpillar remember," you added, for once, following the script as megumi cautiously held the paper up for you to read from. "and they're still best friends. but then butterfly meets another butterfly, and they become best friends too!"

"the caterpillar feels left out and then meets the moth," said megumi, staring at the audience with a blank expression. "and they become friends even though that's not even real."

you turned to miss turner, feeling insulted that megumi had the audacity to snitch on you when he had basically done the same thing.

"miss, that wasn't in the script."

miss turner sighed, shaking her head at you with a smile. "guys."

"okay, okay!" you said. "megumi, say it."

"the caterpillar goes inside the cocoon," he said on your command, though he'd been resisting the urge to add 'the only real part'.

"afterwards, after a very, very, very, very, very long time," you said, attempting to create suspense, though you could feel megumi's eyes digging holes in your cheek to get you to hurry up, "the butterfly is not friends with the other butterfly anymore."

"the moth flies away and the caterpillar comes out but oh no it's not a caterpillar anymore," recited megumi, reading from the paper, monotoned. he looked up, making eye contact with the audience. "i didn't write that."

you snatched the paper from him, annoyed with his lack of effort in bringing emotion to the story.

"but oh no!" you read, enthusiasm in your voice as you expressed how disheartened the narrator should have been, "it's not a caterpillar anymore!"

"i just said that."

"porcupine!" you snapped. you handed him the paper again, smiling at the audience, unaware of the glare he was directing at you. "the caterpillar is now a butterfly, and the other butterfly doesn't re— re— rec—"

"recognise —"

"yeah that — the butterfly!" you finished off, grateful for megumi's intervention.

"and that's the end of the story," stated megumi.

you grinned. "the end!"

an awkward silence had followed after that. megumi had scrunched up the paper in his small fist, which had been the only noise in the room full of pin-drop silence. all of the kids had been staring at you, as if waiting for you to yell out 'just kidding!' and then continue the story, but it had become quite clear that that wouldn't happen, especially when the two of you glanced at miss turner to prove that you'd finished your lovely story.

"tha— that's the end?" asked miss turner, brown eyes darting from you to megumi and back again, expectantly.

you nodded.

"yep."

"yeah."

"but what happened to the butterflies?" someone had called out — it was noah fisher.

"nothing," you answered.

but it seemed that your classmates’ interest in your story had not been completely satisfied.

"did they not realise each other?" hayley bergmann called out, looking upset and curious.

"no," said megumi, straight-forward.

"why?" said christian de groot.

"because — because — that's just how it is," you shrugged.

"life is sad," commented megumi.

another silence had followed after that, till miss turner had finally come to the acceptance that your story truly had ended the way it did.

"okay, well... that's y/n and megumi's story, guys! round of applause!"

but the giant applause you'd been waiting for had not arrived. instead, the claps were slow, out of beat, and awkward, as if they were still in shock and denial about the ending of your story.

irked, your brows had furrowed deeply, your arms folded across your chest as you demanded them to "clap!".

and they did, at some point, and you'd stepped back again, standing side-by-side with megumi, a smile finally gracing your delicate features.

"look, porcupine! they're clapping for us!"

“it’s not like you barked at them to or anything,” grunted megumi, and as though he’d been slapped with knowledge, he glared at you. “and stop calling me that.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

your teachers did not believe you when you told them that you much preferred to stay indoors than go outside. you didn't understand how they'd come to that conclusion when even in the kindergarten, your time was always spent more by the bookshelf than outside in the playground. the only time that you’d actively seek to go outside for a change was when the bikes were free to use (though sometimes your impatience would force the other kids to simply give up and get off the bikes for you).

so when your mother had called you over at the sound of the doorbell (which you had promptly ignored for the sake of watching your favourite cartoons) you audibly groaned, but obediently switched the tv off and made your way over to the front door.

surprised, perplexed, yet pleased, you’d been met with the sight of megumi standing by the door across from your mother, a soccer ball in his hands and sporting the same stoic expression as per usual.

your mother looked very confused, almost as though megumi was not real — as though someone had been playing a sick trick on her. someone really wants to play with that kid? she’d thought in her head when megumi had asked if you were free to play in the neighbourhood.

you skipped past your mom, tightening the ribbon in your hair and smiling. you looked up at her, ready to inform her of the fact that you would stay in the area and not run off (even if you had the carnal desire to give her a good scare).

“i’m just gonna play with megumi okay?” you told her, and though it’d been posed as a question, you knew it was a statement.

you’d ignored the odd look she’d given both you and megumi, her eyes darting from you to him and back again.

“megumi?” said mom, gazing at the dark-haired boy with curiosity. she could have sworn that he had been the very child you’d been annoyed with not even a month ago.

you sighed, irritated.

“i won’t run away like last time mommy.”

megumi gave you a pointed look. you narrowed your eyes at him.

“it was on — it was on accident.” you turned to your (still very confused) mother. “i’ll just play with megumi now so yeah.”

but she looked as though she had missed several pages on a very interesting book she’d been reading. megumi spoke up not too long after.

“my mom said she’ll watch us.”

and whether that had been to comfort your own mother (the woman still kept the same expression on her face) or to hurry things up, you never knew, for you’d grown very impatient and simply couldn’t wait any longer. you stepped outside and waved goodbye to your mom, who raised her hand in what she probably thought was a wave back, though it looked like anything but.

that day, megumi’s mother had walked you back to your home just before sunset, your sour mood now dissipated.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

bonus scene:

"a toast to the academic year of two-thousand-seven-to-eight being officially completed!"

clink!

clink!

clink!

the staff room meant for the kindergarten teachers had been packed. the teachers sat around a squared table, drinks in hand and food scattered around as though the queen were to arrive at any passing second. some teachers were standing up, others were sitting. all, however, had made a toast to the end of the academic year.

the main two teachers of both classes had sat together at the head of the stable: miss huckleberry and miss turner. every other teacher that had played the role as the assistant or substitute had been present too.

"can we talk about how this was probably the hardest year to manage?" said miss huckleberry, but only after taking a giant gulp of whatever sparkling drink she'd chosen to quench her thirst.

there were several murmurs of agreement. mr adams (who had been a consecutive substitute for miss huckleberry's class during september) had practically shouted out his agreement.

"you don't know how many times i had to deal with a child crying because they've got 'the booger touch'," miss huckleberry announced, sighing.

"what even is that?" one of the first aid nurses asked.

"i wish i knew."

a lot of the teachers laughed, speaking in hushed tones on their theories of what the 'booger touch' is and how it even started. the teacher assistant for miss huckleberry's class had spoken up during that time.

"wait, but, can i tell you what i found the most weirdest thing back in... i don't know... october-ish?"

she tucked a messy strand of her ginger hair behind her ears as the others looked up with mild interest.

"the oddest pair on this planet," she'd started, "megumi and y/n."

"no you mean y/n and megumi," laughed miss turner, who had finally voiced her own opinion seeing as the two kids had been in her class for the previous year; meanwhile there'd been a chorus of laughter and yells of agreement from all the other teachers.

"yep, for sure —"

"never thought i'd see them being friends —"

"two completely different people —"

"wait, wait! wait! was megumi the kid with that grumpy face twenty-four-seven?" asked mr jenkins, raising the hand that was holding his glass of champagne to emphasise his confusion.

the teachers nodded in response; he laughed boisterously.

"yeah i never saw that coming, that kid never wanted to play with anyone!"

miss turner smiled. "he was a little... anti-social."

"he was more than anti-social," interrupted miss huckleberry. "i had to deal with so many crying kids because of him."

"i don't know how he ended up being friends with y/n of all people," said ms begum, adjusting the green hijab on her head. she had been the substitute for miss turner's class whenever she'd been ill.

"right?" laughed mr adams.

miss huckleberry shook her head. "that kid was a menace."

"oh don't say that!" scolded miss turner, tapping miss huckleberry's arm firmly. "she was so bubbly and funny!"

"but it makes sense!" said the first aid nurse, picking up a chocolate cupcake and taking a small bite out of it.

several teachers disagreed, shaking their heads and voicing their thoughts.

"no, hear — hear me out!" she called out, struggling to speak with the cupcake. she swallowed and then continued. "y/n was always really loud and social and talkative and — you get the idea, but megumi wasn't. for lack of better word, y/n was a menace on her own but megumi wasn't exactly like that... and when they ended up being friends —"

"i see it now," hummed ms begum, pouring herself some of the apple juice. "does everyone remember the veera incident?"

she had barely completed the last syllable before the teachers had spoken over each other again, loud and excited. miss turner laughed, but miss huckleberry had rolled her eyes.

"do i remember? i had to deal with the mother!" she exclaimed, her drink now completely finished. she poured herself another full glass.

"before y/n got moved to your class," said the nurse, gesturing to miss turner, "any time veera came over, the kids were fine. megumi was fine."

"okay but let's be honest," said mr adams, slowly. "that veera child made me want to vomit —"

"william!"

"mr adams!"

"i can't deny it, i'm sorry! it is what it is!" mr adams spoke up over the teachers. "that child needed to learn hygiene first!”

although there were many shouts of protests, it could be heard how weak they'd sounded, almost as though the teachers wanted to disagree, but logically, they could not. picturing the child in question only made mr johnson actually gag.

"but who would you say is worse, y/n or megumi?" asked the teacher assistant. "y/n for sure."

"agreed."

"definitely y/n."

"but y/n's never actually made a kid cry —"

"yes she has!"

"but so has megumi."

"i think the point is," said mrs holly, placing a watermelon slice on her paper plate, "that they are definitely the oddest duo we've seen in teaching so far."

"i think they made the year so much more tiring," sighed miss huckleberry.

following her statement, there were sighs of agreement. some teachers had promptly disagreed, claiming that the duo had, in turn, made teaching a little more fun. miss turner had stated that you were a wonderful addition to her class. ever since you had joined, megumi was a little more spoken.

"but megumi," added mr johnson, pinching the bridge of his nose, "that child — is he even a child?"

mrs holly laughed at that.

"whatever do you mean?" she'd asked, biting back a smile despite her obvious curiosity.

"well we all know his favourite quote," chortled miss turner, actually heartily laughing when some of the teachers had quoted him simultaneously.

"'that's not even real'!"

they all burst into fits of chuckles and laughter, some teachers having lagged behind on the quote and finishing a little while after (mr adams had practically sang the quote).

mrs holly, still chuckling, referred back to her initial question.

"so what about that makes him unlike a regular child?"

"THE KID READS NON-FICTION BOOKS, come on!"

"and i can't remember a single time where we all sat together in a circle for story time and megumi didn't mutter 'that's not even real' — 'birds don't talk' — under his breath," said miss huckleberry, helping herself to some of the desserts placed on the silver platter. "menace."

"can confirm," nodded miss turner. "but i rarely ever had to actually scold him. y/n would do it for me."

"one thing about y/n," said ms begum, trying not to laugh mid-sentence, "was that she always kept megumi in check."

"no," said mr jenkins. "i'd argue that he kept her in check."

"nobody can keep y/n in check. not even her own mother," ms begum responded curtly.

"no, i think that was the issue," said mr adams thoughtfully. "they're both so different, they tried keeping each other in check. but then that always led to them fighting."

"fighting?"

"i thought they were friends?"

"again: odd duo."

mr adams shook his head. "they were weirdos. they'd argue for a second, and then be friends after."

miss turner nodded. "true. did i ever tell you guys about their book wars?"

"no —"

"no? —"

"i've seen it happen," said the first aid nurse. "they'd fight over their favourite books and then because they both have completely different tastes —"

"the only time i can say y/n acts like a normal child," miss huckleberry whispered, her voice hushed.

"— they'd end up actually fighting each other."

the teacher assistant rolled her eyes. "should we all take a guess on who hit who first?"

"y/n —"

"no question: y/n —"

"definitely y/n —"

"ally?" said mrs holly, asking for confirmation from your class teacher: miss turner nodded.

all the adults in the room sighed, laughed, and commented their thoughts: it was mainly not a surprise to either one of them that you chose to get physical first — you were rather 'passionate', as mr jenkins had put it.

"but you know, the surprising thing was," said miss turner, louder than the other voices in the room in order to grab everyone's undivided attention, "megumi seemed to always let her."

mr johnson frowned, walking around the staff room to get the cinnamon rolls on the farthest end of the table. "let her what?"

"hit him," answered miss turner, as each of their faces presented their shock:

miss huckleberry's brows had raised notably, ms begum had tilted her head with her brows furrowed in obvious uncertainty, and mr jenkins' face morphed into an expression that quite literally screamed 'not possible'. but it had not been them who had voiced their thoughts following the amazing revelation.

"i wholeheartedly believe you," said the nurse, nodding her head leisurely. at the sight of all the other unresponsive teachers (save for the murmuring between mr adams and mrs holly), the nurse had decided that an explanation was due. "back in january, you know james? the kid with the buzzcut?"

the other teachers nodded, some remained unacquainted with said boy yet waved their hands to have the nurse continue anyway.

"he hit megumi over something stupid — can't remember. but megumi didn't just let that slide: i had a sobbing james sitting in my office with a bruised up eye!"

"yes, i remember that," mumbled miss turner, a hand on her chin as she rested her elbow on the table; meanwhile the others were gasping and exchanging odd looks. "not my favourite megumi moment, to be fair."

"he could have done the same to y/n," shrugged the nurse. "i know he could."

"arguably, y/n is a scary girl," said mr john, lowly. "what — don't look at me like that — she terrified me sometimes! and i've seen the way she fought that other kid — what's his name —"

"clarke!" said miss huckleberry, "yes, it was clarke!"

"irrespective of who she's beaten up," tutted the nurse, rolling her grey eyes, "it's clear that megumi has always had the potential to do what he did to james, to her. he just never did."

"that's why i said she kept him in check," added ms begum, a finality in her tone as she gazed at mr jenkins with a raised brow.

"anyway, when y/n moved to your class, ally, i never bothered trying to get her back," said miss huckleberry, pushing her glass of whatever sparkling drink she'd chosen away from herself.

"i could tell," miss turner responded, smiling despite it all.

mr adams laughed. "i still don't know how she somehow managed to sneak back into your class and throw apple juice on —"

the very person you'd thrown apple juice on (and accused them of pissing themselves) had now looked up, alert and embarrassed. the teacher assistant who you had declared war on months prior now felt tears welling up in her eyes as she stood up, glaring at mr adams as everyone averted their gazes awkwardly.

"we all promised not to ever mention that again," she said, bottom lip wobbling as she walked around the table to get to the door despite all the teachers calling her back. she ignored them as she reached the door.

"oh, come on, poppy!"

"he didn't mean it like that —"

"yeah, come back!"

"why would you mention something like that?" she weeped, her face a dark shade of red that did much to conceal her dotted freckles. she opened the door, her body half-in and half-out. "why would you say that when you know it surrounds us all in negativity —"

but before mr adams could backtrack on his comment (and his laughter) the teacher assistant had already left the room.

they all sighed:

even after your departure, you had still managed to cause problems somehow.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

next chapter :)

notes: chapter 2 will take a little while to get out but i swear it will be released at some point!

© tojiscrack (previously ack4rwoman)

i do not own any of the characters of jjk, i only own the character of y/n and her mother. the other characters belong to gege akutami.

if you enjoyed my writing, i’d really appreciate it if you tipped me — tumblr no longer has the tip function, so maybe here in my tip jar :)

[emphistic]

Écoute Chérie

A/N: grr

<- Series m.list

When a certain someone — specifically a blond male, showed up to Sukuna’s door that next morning holding a wad of cash in his hand, Sukuna wanted nothing more than to sock him in the jaw. But he contained himself, saying, “Keep that shit for yourself. I don’t want it.”

“Oh? You backing out now, Captain?”

“. . .You’re one sick fuck, Zen’in.” He snatched the money out of the younger’s hands, before slamming his door shut.

Pride is a terrible, terrible thing, and Ryomen Sukuna was full of it.

“Oh, my God, girl! I feel like we moved on a little too quickly. Pause: He—you—you guys KISSED? Stop, don’t—don’t play with me right now. I can’t even get a guy to let me cheat off of him on a final, but you kissed someone on the FIRST date. Let me say that again, FIRST date?! As in the first EVER date you two have been on together.”

If you were counting — which you weren’t, this would have been the seventy-ninth time you giggled out loud this evening. You and Nobara were sitting — no, standing, actually, with you leaning forward with your elbows on the counter, and the brunette doing likewise. You decided — well, you were forced — to fill her in on all that happened the day before. You had just gotten off of your shift, and, obviously, were still in your uniform, but Nobara insisted you tell her anyway. She wouldn’t and “couldn’t” wait until you got back to your apartment.

“Yes, Nobs, for the hundredth time. We kissed and even added a little bit of tongue and then he walked me back to my apartment and we fucked all night.”

The look on her face was absolutely priceless, her jaw dropped to the floor and even broke through the tiles and went further beneath the surface. Just kidding; because that’s not possible, but her expression was even more funny after you said, “I’m just messing with you, girl. I have some self-worth left, believe it or not, and I wouldn’t sleep with someone after the first date.”

“Funny how you decided to deny only that part.”

“. . .”

“Don’t—don’t tell me the rest was true. Oh, my God! STOP! I was only kidding; but you—you actually added tongue? What the fuck? And, you just decided to not call me right after? Wow.” Nobara crossed her arms and stuck her nose in the air for only a few seconds before she went back to gripping your shoulders and shaking your body. “You are such a freak, my God.”

“He also walked me to my door, y’know. No need to focus on only those parts.” You tried to bring her focus onto that, because you found that part the most adorable.

Truth was, the only reason you didn’t immediately call Nobara that night was because you spent the last few hours of that night screaming into your pillow like a schoolgirl and reminiscing on all that happened.

“You know,” you started, turning to face the man behind you, “you didn’t have to walk me all the way to my door, right? I could’ve just gone by myself.” 

You had insisted and insisted to Sukuna that you would be fine, and that the other residents of the building were friendly and cordial, but Sukuna ignored every one of your pleas and walked right next to you anyway. From the parking lot, to the elevators, and down the hallway, Sukuna never left your side, and actually, was surprisingly nice company. You two talked on the way about how good or bad the food at the game was, how hot and humid it was, how annoying the older gentleman beside your seats was, you two talked plenty enough.

“I know. I wanted to.” Sukuna stopped to lean against the wall beside your apartment, crossing his arms as you pulled out your keys.

“Hey, so, I had a lot of fun today. I guess baseball isn’t as boring as I thought it was,” you laughed, scratching the back of your neck. “Thanks for inviting me.” You had tried to tell him on the car ride to your place, but you chickened out.

Sukuna snorted, “No problem; my pleasure, actually. And, I had a lot of fun, too. I think I enjoyed today more than I would if Yuuji was there instead of you. So thank you for coming.”

“Oh, please. Don’t lie; he’s literally your brother. Besides, Yuuji’s not even here to defend himself. Kinda rude, if I say so myself.”

“I’m not lying, though, really. I enjoyed today. I can’t even remember the last time I was able to leave the house for anything fun and actually, sincerely, enjoy it.” Sukuna moved his head as he spoke, as if in a way to accentuate his point. You found that completely and utterly adorable. Just the thought of you being part of making his day alone made you blush, and you looked away sheepishly.

“I’m glad you had a nice time, Sukuna. And thank you, again, for today.” You caught Sukuna by surprise — beyond surprise, actually — when you cupped his face in your hands and brought your lips to his cheek for a chaste kiss. Mwah! The sound was audible through the night. And it was the sound which replayed over and over in Sukuna’s mind as he lay completely awake for hours past midnight in bed. The only thing he dreamt of — when he eventually fell asleep, that is — was you. You.

Now that he thought of it, there were no words to describe you. No words to describe your beauty, though, ethereal did come close. No words to describe the smile which you gave him when you two passed each other on campus. No words to describe how friendly and comforting the melody of your voice sounded to him; if you were a siren, and he, a pirate, Sukuna would dive headfirst into the water. No words to describe how drunk, how dizzy, how pathetic you made Sukuna, even with mere eye contact. But, there was a word to describe Sukuna.

It’s quite simple, actually.

Sukuna was whipped. Absolutely enamored of you. But. . . Very unfortunate he only noticed now. And, it was such, such a shame that he was also full of pride.

“Okay, that’s so romantic, though! I can’t believe it. My friend is gonna get with the love of her life, and I don’t even know how to turn the stove on. Oh, my God. My friend’s getting with the love of her life. OH, MY GOD!” That was not even close to the last time you would hear Nobara say “Oh, my God” that night.

-

“You wouldn’t happen to . . . y’know . . . have plans . . . this weekend?”

You didn’t know why Sukuna kept on pausing, but you knew it was oddly suspicious.

“And if I did?”

“Then, I wouldn’t ask you to . . . help me . . . with some . . . math.”

“Sukuna, are you okay? You sound like you’re being held at gunpoint.” You crossed your arms, failing to stifle a giggle. You really couldn’t fathom why he was acting so strange. Sukuna couldn’t, either. 

Ever since the day you both went to that baseball game together, Sukuna’s been different, to say the least. And yeah, maybe after kissing someone for the first time changes your behavior towards them, but still, it was strange. 

He wasn’t as cocky when going over his daily feats at basketball practice; he wasn’t as blunt and insulting to freshmans whom you two came across while on campus; he wasn’t as teasing or sharp with his remarks as he usually was; he wasn’t as assertive and casual whilst slinging an arm ‘round your shoulder. He wasn’t him. Then again, Sukuna also didn’t know why he was acting this way.

“I’m . . . fine. I’m fine.”

“Okay. . . Anyways, I am free. So yeah, I can. My place or yours?”

“Ah, you don’t have a lot of good alcohol,” Sukuna tapped his index finger repeatedly on his chin, as if contemplating which location to use was very difficult for someone like him. “I get bored with just water. So, it’ll have to be mine. ‘Sides, I don’t think Gigi likes me that much anyway.”

You laughed. Sukuna wasn’t very keen on having you tutor him while your apparently “murderous” cat was present. Giselle, also known by her nickname ‘Gigi’, was a black-furred breed, with very sharp, untrimmed nails, which proved useful whenever Sukuna came over to hang out with you or do some other shit. Maybe it was because of how provocative Sukuna and his usual cold demeanor were. Maybe it was because of how close Sukuna got to Gigi’s owner whenever you sat down on the couch together. Maybe it was because of the fact Sukuna took your attention off of your so precious cat whenever he stepped foot into the apartment. Maybe it was because Sukuna was just Sukuna. And Gigi didn’t like that one bit.

“Alright, since you’re afraid of a mere feline, which — mind you, is less than a quarter of both your height and size.”

“Well, that feline comes from the depths of Hell. So yeah, excuse me if I prefer to stay sixty miles away from it.”

“Gigi comes from Hell, now? Pfft—she’s probably just excited to see her previous neighbor, then,” you snorted.

Sukuna gave you a side glance, hiding his growing grin. He was not about to openly admit you were even slightly funny. No, he would never give you that kind of satisfaction.

“Okay, so can you tell me what the variable ‘d’ is?” You had explained the formulas as best as you could, even taking it a step further and dumbing it down immensely. Then you left the living room to put away the dishes, leaving the pink-haired male to attempt his assignment on his own. — With some guidance here and there.

Sukuna and you had ordered Chinese, deciding to study while eating. And while your plan for energizing proved to be frustrating at first — since a certain someone didn’t know how to eat with his mouth closed, you had become used to it by the end. Your tactic? Drowning out the audible chewing noises. Eugh.

“Why don’t you come over here, and I’ll show you.” Sukuna leaned his head on the cushions, wrapping an arm around the back of the sofa.

You scrunched up your face in reply, pausing in the middle of scrubbing food and gunk and whatever off of the porcelain plates. “Pass.

“I told you already, Sukuna. The exponential functions are the ones that slowly curve up; think of it as this: good things happen to a bad thing. Get it? Like, their lives are getting better. And, since I know you’ve already forgotten, a ‘y’ value can have as many ‘x’ values, but the ‘x’ value is . . . unambiguous, so it only has one ‘y’ value. Now, does that help?” 

“Ugh, this is such a bore. How can anyone pay attention to these types of things long enough in class to be good at it? Fuck.”

You took his consequent silence as him giving up on life and continuing to work on solving the problem in his evident misery, but oh, how wrong you were.

“S’kuna, what are you doing?” you sucked in a breath. He was so close. So close, to you. You thought it had only been two seconds, but in those two seconds, it only took Ryomen Sukuna four easy strides to end up here. — With his chest pressed almost right up against your back. Key word: almost. Yes, Ryomen Sukuna was so close, but still, so far.

“Helping you.” God, did he have to be that ambiguous all the time? He was like a walking enigma, a puzzle, a riddle, for you to solve. A mystery for which you would soon lose sleep over.

Sukuna easily grabbed several dried plates, removing them from the rack, and storing them in the cabinet above your head. His hand left lingering touches on your arm as they passed by each other. You slowly, gradually, accumulated a mountain of goosebumps.

It was infuriating.

He was so close, but not close enough.

Every time he moved to grab another plate, he would rest his hand upon your hip or on the curve of your waist. Sometimes he ran his large-scaled hands up your middle; sometimes he moved them lower, and lower. Was he trying to give you heart palpitations?

“Y’know,” he started, his voice dripping with honey, “you can keep breathing, right? What, do I smell that bad?” he snickered.

“I—what—why—what the hell are you doing?” You wanted to argue that he had no sense of personal space, which, yes, was true, but you feared he would stop whatever he was doing at the moment. And, you didn’t want that.

“I’m . . . helping . . . you.” He bent down to your level, lips brushing your ear as he spoke, and his hot breath fanning your ear. 

There it was again. That ‘pausing thing’ of his. But, this time, it was different. Earlier he was pausing as if he was unsure, but now, he was pausing just to create suspense and further rile you up. He clearly knew what he was doing; he knew what he was doing to you. Poor ol’ you, who just innocently wanted to wash some dishes.

You had previously wanted to turn around and properly face him in order to confront him better, but now, you didn’t dare meet his eyes. Not like you could, anyway, you were stuck between the counter and him. Your eyelashes fluttered, as your eyes darted here and there. And your palms began to sweat, you quickly wiped them on the material of your sweater, but your continued attempts were futile.

“No—no, you’re not.” You struggled to stifle your heavy breathing, and it took you quite a time to form a sentence without giving away the tight feeling in your chest.

“Yeah? Then, how could I help you, hm? Tell me,” he spoke your name firmly, like he was anticipating your breaking, and egging you on nevertheless. Then again, how could he not be? It had been days, days, since you two went to that game. Days since he felt like he was in heaven and talking to an angel. Days since he felt your lips on his. Days since he felt well. Days. And for days, he’s been restless, hungry, thirsty, empty. Hell, forget about your predicament, he was the one close to breaking.

“Tell me,” he said your name, again. “Tell me, pretty girl. Tell me.”

“. . .You can help by telling me what the fuck we’re doing right now.”

“Don’t you already know? And here, I thought it was obvious.” Sukuna bit his lip, but that didn’t help any bit in suppressing his laugh.

“What . . . are we . . . doing?” You repeated.

Sukuna was silent, for a moment, “You’re tutoring me, on math.”

“I already know that, dumbass. I mean, what are we doing?”

“You’re gonna need to be a little more specific than that.”

“Oh, my God—what are we doing? What are we? For fuck’s sake. How thick is your skull really, damn.” You finally mustered the courage to twist your body around, and though you were only met with his chest, you sighed and looked upward to meet his face.

“That’s a little harsh.”

You glowered at Sukuna.

“Okay, okay. I’ll talk,” he cleared his throat. “We’re . . . just us. I don’t know what to tell you. Sukuna and you. You and Sukuna. That’s all there is to it, right?”

For a second, you thought he was referencing what you had previously said to Nobara, but then the rational side of your brain kicked in and said, “No, there’s no way he could’ve overhead that,” and so, the surprised expression disappeared from your face as you looked down at the floor of the kitchen.

“We’re friends, yeah, that’s all there is to it. . . But friends don’t do . . . this. So we clearly, definitely, shouldn’t be doing this.”

“So, we can pretend we’re not doing this, right? There, fixed the problem.”

“And if I don’t want to pretend we’re not doing this?”

“Then don’t; we don’t have to pretend.”

“But—”

“Please,” he looked at you with such an earnest expression on his features, “don’t say that word. Not again. You’ve no idea, no idea, how much it drives me crazy when you say that word. Mad, insane, deranged. Anything but that, please, anything. We’re clearly not friends. We’re clearly not just friends. So please, don’t call whatever we have as that. I’m sick of it.”

“If we’re not friends, then, what are we?” Your voice was just above a whisper, and you couldn’t even recall when it turned out that way. 

“. . .We’re whatever you want us to be. . . What do you want us to be?”

“No, you decide, Sukuna. What do you want us to be?” You gingerly laid a palm on top of his chest.

“I decide?”

You nodded, “Whatever you want to be . . . will be.”

“I want us to be . . . us. Together. Just us. No one else; just you and me.”

“Okay. I’d like that.”

He took your hand from his chest and held it in his, as if in a way to seal his promise. “I’m glad.”

Having had a couple beers — in favor of Sukuna giving up on attempting any more math, you were a little drunk. Just a little. 

“You have a stupid, stupid face, but it’s still my favorite. It’s my favorite to stare out. It’s my favorite to kiss. It’s my favorite to rub — your skin is so soft. It’s my favorite. My favorite.” 

He let you pepper as many pecks as you wanted onto his cheek, but when you tried to give Sukuna a proper kiss on the lips, he quickly moved his face to the side so you unintentionally planted your lips on his cheek instead. 

For, he didn’t want you to freak out in the morning and think he was the type of guy to take advantage of someone while they were even a little bit tipsy.

Besides, he had just gotten you. He couldn’t lose you now, could he.

A/N: i love portraying raw emotion