#holding it or being held it is still a leash

[candlewitches]

There’s truly no joy like a northern mix in snow up to their chest

I wanted to stay on the already trampled path around the meadow perimeter, Kal said we had to go through the middle so he could look for bunnies

[aria0fgold]

The Alterego AU of mhyk injected Snow and White thoughts into my brain cuz of how insane Cain and Snow's relationship in that AU is making me whenever I think about it. It's just so good in the sense that Snow is 100% on board with influencing Cain Terribly and how Cain is also just Way Off than how he is in canon but it's Still Him. The biggest difference is that Snow is allowing Cain's negative traits to be displayed openly while Arthur is actively Ignoring those negative traits and so Cain has to Hide any negative traits just so Arthur doesn't have to see any of it.

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: nsfw, noncon, virginity loss, degradation, abuse of power, Christianity, blasphemy, medieval times, corrupt priest, torture devices, abuse, punishment, misogyny, public humiliation, execution of non-named characters

♡ FEM reader

A scold's bridle, sometimes called a witch's bridle, a gossip's bridle, a brank's bridle, or simply branks, is an instrument of mirror punishment utilized by the church to publicly humiliate women who speak out of turn.

And you’ve unfortunately been deemed one of them…

You can only regret it now—wish you’d kept your mouth shut—wish you’d just held your tongue and spared yourself the poetic justice. You’d even been warned—that’s the dumb part, the part that makes the regret even more bitter. You’d been told gossipping would only land you in a world of hurt, and you, brave-faced and foolish, had ignored the advice. And now you’re facing the consequences.

Branks, an awful contraption, act as a muzzle in an iron framework, caging the head—quite like a helmet—a heavy helmet. Tight and trapping, it’s enough to make your head ache after a mere minute of wear. But that’s not the worst part. No, the worst part is the bridle-bit—a metal wedge about two inches long and one inch wide in size, of which they slide into your mouth, pressing down on top of your tongue—silencing you entirely. 

But being unable to talk is only the first and least of many discomforts—as it also makes your jaw cramp up, and makes a humiliating amount of drool run wild down your chin—making you look like some or other rabid street mutt that’s ben muzzled for its own good.

The chunky metal collar you’re made to wear doesn’t help negate that imagery, nor does the bell attached to it—drawing in the crowds to the town square where you’ve been put on display, fastened to the tron for public judgment and ridicule.

Oh, and they are full of it today.

Standing there, an army of justice—warped faces and pointed fingers. The kids throw rotten fruit, and the elders fouler words—calling you a Jezebel. 

At least you’re not alone up there but sharing the burden with a handful of other miscreants. One’s bent over in the pillory beside you—another three stand next to him up on the gallows, shaking in their piss-soaked boots, noose loosely around their necks—soon-to-be hangmen. 

Thank God the worst things are thrown their way—at least they’ll be set free of it soon. 

The poor sinners hang there still as the sun starts to set and most of the crowd’s gone home for the day, crows picking at the jelly of their dead eyes while the town’s church officer leads you away by leash.

With your hands and arms bound behind your back, you stumble barefoot and gracelessly through the streets—yanked along all the way from the town square up the hill to the church at the top for your final ruling. 

You’re made to kneel on the cobblestone where the clergyman chains your iron collar to the wall.

You’d always pitied those put in the jougs, though you’d also thought them deserving—never knowing you’d be one of them someday. Now you know first-hand what being deserving means. In a town as small as this, where word travels as quickly as you can speak them, only a few ill thoughts will turn everyone against you.

Everything is in a state of discomfort, but at least you’ve finally escaped the town people’s heckling—now secluded in the peaceful quiet of God’s house to reflect in solitude. 

Or… at least, that’s the standard procedure for such offenses.

“Alright then, little magpie,” the church officer announces while unscrewing the cruel headpiece.

It’s surprising. You’d for sure thought he’d leave it on. It was your understanding that it’s common for the scold to wear the bridle until morning and only then be freed. 

But in any case, be it by pity or mercy, you’re ever grateful nevertheless and won’t complain. 

But then, promptly after freeing your mouth from the bit, the man takes hold of your exhausted jaw and gives you a grave warning in its replacement, “Speak out of turn again, and it will go back on for another day in the tron.”

Goosefleshed and ashen from the spoken threat, you do your best to abide by it and remain quiet like the other church mice.

To which the father hums pleasedly, “Nod your head for me if you understand now, magpie.”

You do, looking up at him obediently—hoping he’d see it as enough and deem your punishment fully served, maybe even remove your bonds and collar as well.

“Good.” 

He smiles knowingly, then drops your head. Scoffing loudly, “But of course… a bitch will always prefer being free from the muzzle… Don’t necessarily make ‘em well-behaved.”

You flinch at the words, eyes wide, looking up into his gaze, feeling small under the weight as he leers down his nose at you worse than that of the crowd earlier. 

But what really makes your stomach curl are his ringed hands and how they move to his robes.

“Let’s see if this newfound virtue of yours is true and not just another one of your brazen tricks, shall we?” he suggests, leisurely undoing the knots to his drapes.

“When I’m done, and if you have managed to hold your tongue, I’ll consider you disciplined enough to return home,” he explains, dropping his attire unceremoniously by his feet before taking hold of your chin again. “If not, the bridle will go back on, and we will continue the lesson in the morning and every day onward until your mouth is as honest as if in the confessional.”

Your eyes flicker between his and peaking forward, barely withstanding whimpering when laying your eyes on it—the thing below his belly nearing your face.

“Remember now, magpie, no making a sound—neither word nor moan. I want complete silence.” 

The grip on your chin tightens, and your eyes dart back up to his. 

“Now open that gossiping trap of yours and accept God’s judgment.” 

His other hand holds it in a gentler caress from your face, giving it a few languid rubs before knocking it against your sealed lips, ordering them to open. 

It shocks you—enough to have you swallow a gasp—almost making an illicit sound that would all but seal your fate with the scold’s bridle for another day of suffering.

“Did you not hear me, girl? I said–” Impatient and roughened by his anger, he lets go of your jaw and deals a sharp blow to your cheek next. “Open your no-good sinning mouth!” 

The hand goes to your hair next, tangling within the tousled locks to give your scalp a hard tug.

Again you’re in danger of making a sound but manage to stifle it by screwing your eyes shut—quickly baring your tongue for the priest and pliantly accepting the salty offering placed upon it soon after as if receiving communion on any other Sunday mass.

“That’s it, magpie—” he says then, softer now in praise. “No more tall tales, no more nagging.” His grip eases up but remains to hold you steady as he slowly and rightfully slides his length down to the very back of your throat. Groaning, “Just be a good girl, now. Close your lips around me and suck—and you’ll soon be forgiven.”

You obey, locking your lips around him, tasting the sweat and tang, withstanding gagging as you force yourself into suckling and swallowing the foreign flavors down. 

“Good. You see?” he sighs out in a groan, pleased while fucking your mouth. 

Tangling both hands in your disheveled hair, he sets a rhythm of pulling you away and reeling you back in close—a tempo more than fair for an amateur throat like yours—only just deep and fast enough to make his weighty balls swing and graze your chin on every thrust. 

“If all a woman does is run ‘er mouth—only using it to bitch and moan—they’ll never learn what it’s truly good for,” he gruffs, sinking deeper and settling there, holding your skull in place from pulling back. “But I’ll show yah—don’t worry.”

Your head soon heats up—bleeding red and thick with it—feeling tight and trapped and in dire desperate need to draw air—or at the very least, make some sort of discomforted sound in lack of it—yet under strict order to remain deadly silent. 

“Good god, girl—I’m going all the way down that tight, hot guzzle—” he drawls, bullying deeper—and deeper. Hissing as he bottoms out, “Just the way God intended!”

His hips stutter, wearing your throat like a holster—lips stretched around his fat shaft, kissing his pubes with your nose buried in his well-fed belly.

With eyes rolling back beneath tightly shut lids, seeing spots of light in the enclosing void, you can’t help but flinch when hit with the glob of spit that falls and splatters between your brows. But at least the laughter that echoes throughout the church hall drowns out the sound of your heaving for air once he finally pulls out and frees your throat.

Maintaining a fist in your hair, he keeps you close—your temple to his hip, nose-kissing his strung shaft—struggling to catch your breath while his chuckles die down into humored hums.

“I’ve never had a throat that deep before,” he scoffs with a cruel smile—yanking your hair once again, pulling it back to make you face up. “One might call it witchcraft.” 

Another hard slap is dealt in the same spot as earlier. 

“Are you a witch maybe, magpie?” 

And a third smack. 

“Do I haf’to tie you to the stake next—have ourselves a roast?

Feeling your cheek sting white-hot, you shake your head—fighting to keep your whimpers at bay as silent tears dampen your cheeks—puffing up and rushing with blood post-strike, dulling to a numb yet lingering ache.

He doesn’t show mercy. Instead, it seems the pitiful display only makes him more rowdy—shoving you down to the cold cobblestone with an evil gleam in his eyes.

“Then let’s see you praise the Father,” he barks. “Bow and kiss his holy floor. I’ll judge whether you're a witch or not.”

You’re leash only barely gives you enough leeway to lower yourself. Hands remaining bound up tight behind your back, balled up and shaking in their knots as you bend over until your lips brush the dusty church stone.

“No, not a witch… but—” he hums, though not entirely convinced yet. “A true Christian would savor the taste of God's house.”

Your brows cinch, but you still do as suggested—producing your tongue and dragging it across the filthy tile—collecting dry silt and larger grains of sand—leaving behind a darkened wet trail on the otherwise ashen rock.

“That’s it, magpie,” the clergyman croons with a sneer. “Put that gossipping little tongue of yours to better use.”

You obey, eyes closed, continuing to lick the floor like a dog—fearing worse things would come if you didn’t. Wanting it all to be over and figuring if you just listen, it’ll be done quicker and as pain-free as you could hope.

“But do you deserve it?” he asks then, after a pause of watching you with his cock in hand, tugging it with raspy breaths getting rustier—continuing with a gritty tone, “An unwed woman can only serve the lord if she’s pure.”

His other hand returns to your hair for a third time, pulling you up by the tresses in a stinging grip.

“Are you pure, magpie?”

Goosefleshed by his darkened tone, you cower under his pointed glare. Keenly nodding your head as much as his hand allows.

Still, he doesn’t seem convinced. Huffing, “We’ll see.” 

He drops you again. Now, with a new order, “Turn and bow with your tongue back on the floor.”

You do as he says, though shakily. Gut folding and churning within—throat tight, even under the metal collar, snaring—making your head pound with alarm as you shift on your knees until you’re facing the wall with your back to him, lowering your head down until your swollen cheek neatly squish against the cool stone—tongue splayed out on the earthy rock once again—with your rear raised for the priest’s inspection.

Your nails sink into your palms in the same painful crescents as before while the clergyman lifts your greyed and tattered frock like he’s unveiling a blushing bride—and, similarly to the groom, throws the skirt atop your sloped back, bunched up with the rest of your dirtied dress—leaving your legs and thighs and ass bare to his preying eyes.

He rumbles heavily, pleased by the sight of your pretty little virgin cunt—quivering in the crude and callous open air.

Crouched behind you in perfect level with it, you can all but feel his eager leer rake through you before his finger does—slicing through your pussy-lips and quickly disappearing inside your formerly untouched hole.

You flinch, squirming at the unfamiliar feeling—breaths damp against the ground as you await the verdict.

“It’s tight,” he grumbles, assessing you with a knuckle-deep digit, before scoffing, “But surely… no true virgin is this wet.”

Your eyes widen at the accusation, and he slips his finger out again and stands up with a sigh, “I can’t make sure with a finger alone.”

Then suddenly, he grabs onto of your hanches and lifts your hips higher until your thighs straighten up—and promptly lays his still-hard and hot-blooded member to rest between the cheeks. With his knees bent, a toppling tower over you, he slides through the crevice, rubbing upon your scrunched asshole as he does.

You stir for the first time, but his hold tightens in turn.

“Keep that tongue out, magpie. And don’t you dare make a single sound, y’hear? Or else the branks go back on.”

You fall still—scared in place—eyes screwed shut as his cock falls from the peak of your ass down to your glistened entrance, prodding the small opening with the tip, trying to force it inside, but kept at bay until the narrow ring of muscle finally gave and allowed him to tear through.

“Wheew—undoubtedly a virgin!” he whistles with his head gaining purchase. Groaning at the close fit. “Taut and tight and sensitive—and just perfect for taking seed.”

Meanwhile, you suck in a gasp—tongue still pinned to the floor—only barely managing to suppress the cry that had wanted to follow. 

Choking it down, you nurse yourself through it with a string of deep breaths instead—even as he starts prying further inside—letting your cunt hold the head as he gives it shallow digs, working you open to take his full length.

“That’s it—good magpie,” he moans, pulling you back on his cock by your hips, treading you on like a sleeve. “Take it deep.”

He starts thrusting, and your breath weakens into thin stutters—tongue hanging limply from your mouth all on its own. Eyes glazed, looking toward nothing—rocked steadily as the corrupt priest pounds you like a cheap whore—sore cheek scraping against the stone floor. 

And still, you’re silent—as if having taken a vow.

The only sounds echoing throughout the church are the clergyman’s grunts and the steady fwop fwop fwop of his balls clapping your sopping cunt—almost reminiscent of the church bell’s clangoring.

“Almost there now, magpie,” he chimes from above. “Milk my cock and take my seed in your womb, and you’re forgiven.”

It almost sounds too good to be true. Even as everything aches and you’ve become certain you might just remain mute forever onward, the thought of freedom is enough to bring new hopeful tears to your pitiful eyes. So, as the warmth of his release soils your inside, it’s also joined by overwhelming relief.

A moment or more passes. You don’t take your tongue off the floor, and he remains above you, pumping his load into your deep, dumping it all at depth as if burying some dirty secret. 

At some point, he pulls out—cock now sluggish and spent. You feel its spillage matte on the inside of your thighs—also hidden as he drapes your skirt back in place.

Unbothered with his own clothes, he stands there before your bowed body—now with an accent of full-bellied satisfaction as he pronounces you free of sin in bad Latin—crossing his chest and kissing his knuckle before looking up to the ceiling at the God you’d grown sure he didn’t even believe in.

“Rejoice, magpie,” he mocks while leaning over you to untie your hands. “You’re now free to go.”

But as you lift your head, he still holds out on removing your collar. 

Holding your chin instead, he looks down at you like before, saying, “But it would do you good to remember…” His free hand taps your cheek, softer now but hard enough to make you cringe. “You run that bitch mouth again, and in my church on your knees is where you’ll end up. Understand?”

And just like before, you nod your head for him—still as silent as a church mouse eager to escape the beast’s ugly jaws.

He seems pleased with that and gives you a crooked smile, purring, “Good.” 

He then fishes the keys to your collar from his heaped robes and, at long last, unlocks it from your throat.

And by God, as you wobble out of the church, it feels as if you've been let free from hell.

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[emacrow]

The floating empire of Pharoah Duul Aman

It's not every Tuesday the Justice League encounters something like this, but this was new to Wonder Woman.

A giant island floating in mid air suddenly appeared in a flash of glowing green.

It was Egyptian yet futuristic, like Kemet, where a massive silver and green pyramid in the center with a large pulsing green ball constantly swirling in a barrier.

The building themselves were oddly a combination of modern with Egyptian hieroglyphics carved into them and plants coating and moving around buildings, puffing out icy breaths. It look to be a modern yet futuristic town.

There were people, yet.. odd looking with a pale blue color as some were floating around, the other chasing after their children, parents, floating babies sleeping above them attached to a purple leash wrapped around a Egyptian Mau cats as they talking about the next Hide and Fight game.

Before Wonder Woman could fly closer, she faceplanted right into a golden barrier.

...

...

...

Tucker Foley was desperate to save Danny. After the GIW last attack, they severely injured Danny who pushed tucker out of harm way with a new untested ecto blaster that was stolen from the Fentons before. They gave up on hunting and helped Danny after his revealing.

The Portal was malfunctioned and breaking apart as it slowing eats out the Fenton's basement into it, even as he incase the town in a barrier of his own making to push out the GIW all out and hidden around town.

Danny, who is lays on the makeshift bed outside the Fenton house, Fangs grinding in pain with trails of greens and red pulsing through his skin with frantic Jazz trying to find another ecto-dejecto in the Fenton mobile knowing there is no more.

His hands trembled as he was performing a ritual, writing another hieroglyphics in Egyptian symbol. Sam was out the circle holding the Scarab Scepter using fenton gloves to keep her mind from being enchanted by it dark power.

Tucker knew he was the reincarnated Duul Aman. He can still remember everything of his past life even though he lied to his friends about that time when he went mad with power.

He remembered how blood thirsty and enraged with guilt weighed down Duul Aman to madness upon remembered his friend Danyal, who sacrificed his life for him.

Danyal, who was a foreign slave yet closest best friend in the world, looks too like Danny. He never lied when he said he and Danny had been friends since forever.

He knew who danny was danyal reborn the moment he saw that birth marks on his heel, the very same cresent moon shaped mark right against his heel.

He will not fall into the same madness that consumed his past life. He will save his best friend even..

Tucker quietly inhaled finishing the last piece of the ritual as he held mumbled a prayer to Bastet for protection, holding out his hand to Sam for the Specter

"You know what to do if I can't handle it, Sam." Tucker said to her softly.

"Are you sure this will work, Tuck?"

"I'd study this for a long.. long time, I did all the calculations 7 times to save Danny and fixed the portal leaking into our town. I need enough power, or else the ghost zone is going to implode on all of us, taking the planet and this dimension with it."

"And if it doesn't work.. well, it's was great being best friend with you, Grass eater." Tucker wobbly crack a smile. Sam rubbed her teary eyes a bit.

"If we survived this, I'm so shoving you into grass even with reality morphing powers, Tucker."

[dillydally6969]

PLEASER .ᐟ 𝓢HAUNA SHIPMAN

♱ though you were the antler queen, shauna seemed oddly comfortable bossing you around

♱ cw; slight!nsfw under the cut, harsh language, f!r, boyfriend!shauna, natstoryline!r, shauna would’ve been nicer if they just let my girl lezz out :/

“loser says ‘what’.” mari hissed in her ear in passing.

shauna’s head snapped back, but before she could spit back, you were quick to pounce to your feet. “knock it off, mar!”

the butcher brushed past you, charging at mari.

tackling the raven-haired girl to the ground, shauna held mari’s arm against her back. she held up the bandaged fist, leaning down to whisper through the struggle, “say one more fucking word, and it’ll be your whole fucking arm.”

“jesus--!” you barked, surging to split the two writhing on the ground. “enough already!”

tai and melissa lunged to grab shauna by her arms. you held mari, shoving her behind you. you caught the snarl on the brunette’s face, holding up a hand, gesturing for her to calm down. “what the fuck, shipman?”

“your pet is being a bitch. maybe you should string that leash a little tighter.” she spat through a clenched jaw.

“did you just call me a pet--?”

“okay, enough!” you stepped to place yourself just in the centre, between the two of them. “you guys want me to play the warden? fine. starting tomorrow, both of you are on house arrest. i don’t want to see either of you out of your huts and anywhere near each other. did i make myself clear?”

shauna jerked out of her guards’ grasp, rolling her eyes.

you raised your eyebrows, hands on your hips. eyeing between them when you got no response. “am i clear?” you repeated.

mari nodded, exhaling shakily. god, was she relieved.

if it weren’t for you, she was sure she would’ve been in store as next winter’s rations by now.

as you watched mari stroll off, you drew shauna’s gaze.

the butcher stepped towards you, her rough hand latching unto your arm harshly. her lips brushing against the helix of your ear as she growled, “hut. now.”

you let her drag you off to her hut, indifferent to the looks of question a couple pair of eyes flashed your way.

“what?” you scoffed, hands on your hips. “what is it?”

“what’d you mean ‘what’? you totally steamrolled me out there.” she barked, “are you fucking serious?”

ah, it might be appropriate to mention; you and shauna had a rather… complicated relationship dynamic.

her and jackie used to be a package deal. you wanted jackie, shauna came with. one couldn’t, and wouldn’t, go without the other. but after the crash, the bond between the two grew estranged, and eventually, shauna sought solace in the one yellowjacket that had yet to turn their back upon her.

she was desperate. she was pregnant. you were there.

you were there to say the things jackie wouldn’t, the ones she hopelessly needed to hear.

“i can’t have you and mari stirring up a storm around here anymore,” you sighed, “tension’s high and morale’s low, the last thing we need is some petty playground beef.”

“you’re gonna walk out there and let us go, warden.”

her little acts of rebellion were what she needed, so you let the first couple slip. but you were deeply regretting letting her get away with them, because now she won’t stop.

your authority meant little to shauna, and you need an urgent revamp to remind her just who was put in charge.

“no.” you replied. you swore you saw steam from her ears.

“no?” she replied, her lips curling into a vindictive smirk, her eyebrows still deeply furrowed. “did you just say ‘no’ to me?”

you crossed your arms, swallowing your nerves.

“yes, shipman. i said no.”

“stop fucking calling me that.” you were quickly pinned to the wall, shauna’s hand around your neck. a stunned gasp escaped your lips, her fingers etching her mark into your skin. “here’s what’s gonna happen. i’m not gonna be on house arrest, no, but mari will be. you’ll make sure that little pest stays out of my lane, and you won’t shame me like that in front of everybody again. do you understand?”

you let out a small whimper, nodding frantically.

her grip on your throat tightened, your pulse racing against her fingertips. “use your words.” she ordered, her breath grazing the burning tip of your ears.

“yes.” you managed, squirming beneath her.

“yes, ‘what’?” she asked, you knew just how to appease her.

“yes, shauna.” you breathed, feeling her warm palm creep up your shirt and caress your waist. “i understand.”

“good.” she hummed, her hand on your neck gliding smoothly up the curve of your neck to grab your jaw. her dull, doe eyes peered down at your lips, her own parting as her chest heaved with each quickening breath.

“wait, is that shauna?” gen questioned, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes for a closer glimpse.

melissa’s head snapped towards the back of camp, where they watched the butcher sharpen her knife. her shaggy hair parted to the side, and her flannel sleeves rolled up to her elbows.

“isn’t she supposed to be on house arrest?”

“right, ‘cause shauna’s the most obedient person we know,” melissa scoffed, “she’s probably violating her probation just to piss y/n off for putting her in time out--here.”

the blonde led the other towards your hut, where you were in a meeting with nat and tai about the logistics of camp.

upon the two shielding any light pouring through the arched opening of your private hut, all three pairs of your eyes looked up at the two standing amidst your doorway.

“y/n, can we talk to you for a second?” melissa asked.

you raised an eyebrow, you lips parting in hesitance. you glanced back towards tai and nat sitting on the cushions before you. you scoffed softly, a polite smile across your lips. “i’m kinda in the middle of something, ladies.”

“it’s kinda urgent,” gen added, her grimace evident.

you sighed, but after a quick nod of approval from tai and an indifferent shrug from nat, you gestured for them to continue.

“we think… shauna’s plotting something.” melissa’s voice fell to a hushed whisper at the end, “she’s either planning on jumping you or mari, we don’t know which.”

the hut fell silent for a moment.

you paused, rescinding your though before speaking. “what?”

“uhm, shauna? the big raging monster who’s been biting people and shit?” gen cocked her head. “she’s dangerous.”

“what makes you say that--? the killing part, i mean.” your eyebrows furrowed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

on top of lottie’s supernatural bs, conspiracies were too much.

“she’s not in her hut, she’s strutting around camp like she didn’t fucking assault mari.” melissa’s thumb pointed outside.

“uh,” you stammered, “i, uh… lifted the punishment.”

“what?” tai hissed, “are you batshit? you can’t just let shauna get away with treating mari like a chew toy.” she shot forward. “this is exactly what we were just talking about, y/n, soon enough, she’ll actually believe she can get away with anything. you’ve gotta put that ban back right now.”

you groaned, “look, i talked to shauna after and she knows what she did was wrong! it wasn’t like mari didn’t light the fuse, it’s not fair i punish her.”

“isn’t that why you punished them both in the first place?”

you sighed, rolling your eyes before glaring at the italian. as if mentally telling her, ‘not helping, nat!’

“what you did was nice and just. now that you’ve got shauna running free and mari serving time, you’ve tipped the scale again.” tai crossed her arms, “you’ve gotta set your foot down with her before she actually does do some damage.”

you held your hands up. “okay, okay! i’ll talk to her.”

you shuffled up, scurrying between melissa and gen, who made way for you. the two disperse as well, eager to catch the drama of your confrontation. as you disappear from their view, tai and nat share a mutual look of skepticism.

“how much do you wanna bet they’re fucking?”

tai sneered at nat’s prompt. “oh, come on. like y/n would ever.”

the blonde chuckled, shaking her head. “dude, think about it for a second, it’s so fucking obvious.”

“see, i actually like y/n, so i wouldn’t wish this upon her.”

“really?” nat scoffed, “how does two weeks of chores sound?”

tai narrowed her eyes, pursing her lips. after a brief pause, she slapped nat’s hand harshly in a shake, sealing the reward.

when shauna saw you approaching her, the first thing she could see was the hickey peeking out of your shorts with every stride you took. her heart swelled with pride.

she smirked to herself, setting her knife down, bracing herself for whatever excuse of a scolding you were about to give.

“shipman, get back in your hut!” you yelled harshly.

taken aback by the alternative approach, she scoffed. “what?”

“you heard me.” you spat, grabbing her arm and yanking her up. your hands planted on her chest, nudging her backwards towards her hut. “i don’t want you out of here until the sun comes up tomorrow morning.”

“the fuck?” she grabbed your wrists, “hold on--!”

“no, you listen to me.” you hissed, “people are starting to notice me cutting you slack, i want you to take this punishment and think about how you can control your anger issues.”

“hey! have you forgotten who you’re talking to?”

you shoved her straight into her hut. she fell back into the cushions making a bed, watching as you stood over her with your arms crossed. you clenched your jaw, foot stepping straight between her legs and down against her chest when she tried to stand up. she snarled.

“stay down.” you ordered, “and stay here. i’m warning you.”

shauna didn’t flinch. she cocked her head aside slightly, one brow arching, that slow, maddening smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. replacing what once was that menacing scowl, you were--as twisted as it sounded--beginning to miss it. “i was hungry,” she said with a newfound softness, tucking the knife in her hand back into her belt without breaking eye contact. “didn’t think the queen would mind her butcher feeding herself. thought you’d have better things to care for.”

you let your foot dig into her chest just more in warning, trying not to let your face betray how your skin lit up every time she challenged you like this. “i didn’t ban you from eating. i banned you from leaving this hut after you attacked mari.”

"banned?" shauna snorted, but not before dragging the tips of her fingers across your ankle, slow and deliberate. “i was exempted by your majesty, remember? besides, mari’s a mouthy little bitch. it was time she got dealt with.”

you watched her face contort from one of annoyance to one of calculated seduction. “that’s not your call.”

she stopped, turned to face you fully. you could see it then--how much she loved this, the push and pull, the crackle of tension between rule and rebellion. the knowing you could yell at her all you wanted, but still submit the moment she touched you. she chuckled, the sound made your stomach churn. she grabbed your leg gently. “and you think it’s yours?”

you gulped, but held your ground, heart pounding.

you could only stand and watch as she moved your leg effortlessly, propping herself up so she could be facing you just one breath away. she smirked, the lines under her eyes creasing as she nodded, urging you to answer her.

“I’m the one wearing the crown. not you.”

she laughed--quiet and mocking, eyes flicking to the stupid necklace akilah had made you with an antler pendent.

“you’re right. you wear it,” she murmured, chuckling lowly. “but you don’t know what to do with it.”

you rolled your eyes. “just stay in the hut, shipman.”

she crossed her arms. “yeah, right,” she whispered, stepping even closer, so she could grab your waist, pulling you into her. “are you done with your little act? got that out your system?”

wow, were you really that disrespected as a leader?

“watch it,” you hissed, “before you make me do something both of us don’t want.”

she stared at you for a long second, eyes dark and daring, and then, she smiled. “okay,” she said, grabbing the side of your hips. “you’re the queen. i’ll stay right here.”

a bad feeling riddled you as she stared back at you with a submissive edge, but it felt like the crown was starting to fit.

dinner was thin that night--rabbit, again, stewed with dried berries in a dented pot that hissed softly over the fire. you sat a little apart from the others, still-full cup of stew in your hands, watching the steam curl and vanish into the cool spring night. shauna was across from you, expression unreadable, chewing slow like nothing had happened. like she hadn’t spent the last hours testing your chair, leaving her mark in the crown.

tai dropped down beside you with a grunt and handed you a wooden bowl. “the queen gets extra treats. eat up.”

she said casually, elbows resting against her knees.

“says who?” you scoffed, staring down at the bowl of jerky.

“says me. you’ve barely touched that thing of stew, so you’re obviously not into it.” she nodded towards the dented cup you’ve been toying with for the entirety of dinner. “i got some leftover jerky from the shed. you need to eat something.”

“ah. thanks.” you didn’t answer, picking at the food, though you weren’t hungry. tai, of course, didn’t drop it as she should.

“y’know if you ever need someone to lay it on shauna, im happy to help,” tai muttered under her breath. “she’s been out of control lately, and you--” she paused, eyes narrowing as her gaze flicked to the collar of your shirt. “what the hell is that?”

you froze, jerking away as her fingers reach your neck.

tai reached out before you could pull away, brushing her fingers against the edge of the bruise that peeked out above your neckline--a deep purple mark blooming just below your collarbone. “that’s a hickey,” she announced, just a tad louder than you had hoped. you quickly shushed her.

“it’s not,” you lied, stiffly tugging your coat closed. “it’s probably just some tick bite i got from the lake.”

tai scoffed. “oh, come on, if anybody here knows what a hickey looks like, it’s me. lemme see that!”

you clenched your jaw, avoiding her eyes. “tai, it’s not--!”

“you liar!” she squealed, your collar tugged down to your collarbone with her fingers. “who in the hell is our lovely y/n l/n screwing around here?”

“shh!” you hissed, “can you keep it down! it’s not a hickey!”

“getting some isn’t a crime, y/n. just tell me who it is.”

“does it matter?” you scoffed, “it doesn’t change anything.”

“of course it matters,” tai replied, nudging you with her elbow. “you’re the antler queen, if there’s another potential antler queen or king around here, i need to know.”

“there isn’t,” you snapped, a little too fast. “let it go, turner.”

tai raised an eyebrow at the defensive edge to your tone, but didn’t press further. she held her hands up. “you’re the boss.”

when she stood to leave, most likely to share her findings with van, you pulled your coat tighter and adjusted your shirt, making sure the bruise was well-hidden now. from across the fire, shauna was watching again--eyes half-lidded, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth as she toyed with her knife. like she knew tai caught you, and she liked it.

you rolled your eyes, but still, your stomach fluttered. you hated her for that. almost as much as you hated yourself.

you don’t remember exactly when everything fell into a deep pit of insanity, but you caught yourself standing amidst wave after wave of chaos and hysteria.

the camp was loud; panicked voices overlapping, boots crunching as people circled and recircled the same patch of forest clearing like mari would suddenly reappear if they just looked hard enough. but she didn’t.

and god, did you wish she’d just pop up like her mari self and say, “sike! you guys should see your faces.”

her spot at dinner was still untouched, her blanket rumpled.

and everyone knew it wasn’t like her to wander off this long without making some drama about it first.

“she probably slipped and fell into a ravine,” van offered unhelpfully, arms crossed and voice too chipper. “or she’s hiding as some crazy trick to get us worried.”

“she was being a brat all day,” nat added, adjusting her hair-band. “but even mari wouldn’t play games like this.”

then misty’s voice cut through the murmur like a blade. “so we’re really not gonna talk about the fact that shauna was the last one to threaten her and then mari’s suddenly gone?”

all heads turned towards the butcher. she didn’t flinch.

Just be leaned against the post of the meat-drying rack, arms crossed, her expression calm but simmering.

“oh, please,” she scoffed, “if i wanted to get rid of her, you wouldn’t even realize she’s missing.”

“jesus,” misty gasped, clutching the coach’s jacket like pearls. “are we hearing this? she just basically confessed.”

“you better watch your mouth, quigley,” shauna snapped.

the shouting started to swell again--tai stepping forward to place herself between shauna and misty, nat’s hand twitching near the knife in her pocket, lottie getting involved with some wilderness preaching. you needed to tame the fire--and fast.

you let it go for a few seconds, long enough to watch how quick everyone was to turn on each other.

it uneased you, as it has unraveled under your rule.

“enough!” you yelled at the top of your lungs.

everybody froze, their voices ceasing. you looked around, your voice more steady than you felt. “we’re not turning on each other right now because mari can’t afford it. what happened to her isn’t important, finding her is our priority. so until we find mari fucking ibarra, i don’t want to hear another accusation.”

“but--!” misty chimed. tai eyed you skeptically.

“i said enough,” you repeated, your tone final. “no one’s guilty until we know. that’s how this works.”

silence stretched. the group shifted uncomfortably, glancing at each other, but no one challenged you.

shauna gave you a cool stare, cross-armed and watching.

“we need to split up,” you announced, “cover as much ground as we can before it gets dark. now, nat and i will lead two parties. i want travis and akilah to lead their own as well. find yourself a group, spread out into even numbers, and find her.”

you waved for nat’s gun, she reluctantly handed it over.

“now, who’s coming with me?” you slung it over your head.

sending people into the woods, half-fed and directionless, wasn’t a plan--it was a risk. realistically, mari had been gone for the better part of a day, and most of the team weren’t exactly well-fed. still, only few of you knew the woods. the others could barely tell north from their own footprints.

you weren’t sure who you were hoping would join you, exactly. but you were sure you needed more than the rifle for security.

especially cuz you were queen; antlers are prone to predators.

wordlessly, you felt a presence loom over your shoulder.

shauna had stepped across the quad to stand beside you.

her antic got a few side-eyes, but no one said anything. they knew shauna was one loyal son of a bitch, especially to her newYou could feel Tai’s stare burning into your side, but you kept your gaze on Shauna, steady and unreadable.

“good luck keeping an eye on that one,” gen scoffed.

“hey.” you called, glaring at the girl. “one more word, and you’re on bucket duty ‘til winter.”

behind you, shauna shot misty a smug smirk. taunting her.

how could you, of all people, their sacred leader who always put the team’s wellbeing first defend a sadist as cruel as shauna? it made no sense, how you were always flying to her rescue, even when she didn’t quite deserve it.

the woods were quiet in that eerie, smothering sense. branches creaked, the wind stirred dry needles along the ground, but there was no sign of mari.

just the trees, serene silence--and sexual tension.

“really? are you still stuck on that whole ‘i’m the queen, listen to me’ thing?” she scoffed, you could hear the smirk. “come on, i didn’t take you for such a boring old dictator.”

“drop it.” you ordered, hand tightening around the gun strap.

“why’re you so worried about her anyway?” shauna scoffed behind you, her tone dry, “maybe she finally realized no one liked her and ran off into the trees to make it dramatic.”

you stopped in your tracks, turned. “can you not be such a heartless asshole for five minutes?”

she blinked, taken aback. “wow. thought sex would fuck the annoying mom voice out of you.”

you exhaled sharply. “you’re literally the worst person ever.”

shauna followed, boots crunching loudly, deliberately. “you chose to be alone with me, l/n. why’re you whining now?”

“i wanted to make sure you wouldn’t come back alone and i’d end up finding misty dead in a ditch somewhere.”

“you sure that’s the only reason?” she teased, a flicker of heat in her voice. she leant in, kissing your jaw. “mari’s been out here this long already, what’s another hour or so?”

you shoved her. “god, do you ever take anything seriously? she could be dead, for fuck’s sake, and you’re horny?”

she furrowed her brows, her hand on your hip slipping down. “what do you want me to do? cry about it? hold your hand and whisper that everything’s gonna be okay?”

“can we just… not? please?” you snapped, louder than you meant to. “i’m already so tired from managing a dozen people’s every move seven days of the week, i don’t need you giving me more problems, okay?”

a beat of silence. the wind rustled above.

she stepped in close, too close, the sharp scent of smoke and pine clinging to her--well, your--clothes. “then let me help.”

you opened your mouth to mutter out some poor excuse, but she kissed you before you could answer. hard and fast. her hands gripping your hips like she could wring control out of your body if she just held tight enough.

you tried to pull back. “shauna--!”

she kissed you again, slower this time, and your resistance melted like snow against skin. her fingers slid beneath your shirt, palms hot even through your shirt, grounding you and overwhelming you all at once.

“you’re swamped, right?” she murmured against your neck. “i want you to relax… let me help you with your duties.”

perhaps you lacked respect for your own place, but god help you, when shauna touched you like that--like you were the only thing she could still claim as she rages at the world--you felt like something she needed, something that made her human again. and who was a queen who didn’t serve her people?

even if this version of shauna only lasted when she wanted.

so you let yourself melt into her arms, backing into the trunk of the nearest tree. her lips trace the dip of your neck, tongue wet and hot against your skin. her hands melded around your hips just right, before she met you for another quick and needy kiss.

the moment you stepped back into camp, the shift was obvious. it felt like they knew you wasted the better part of the day letting shauna devour you whole instead of searching for your missing teammate.

your hair mussed beneath your bandana, and your cheeks still hadn’t cooled from the sharp burn of shauna’s hands.

you didn’t meet anyone’s eyes as you set the rifle down by the fire. your lips were swollen, your jacket half-zipped, and every inch of you screamed touched.

you tried to act normal, clearing your throat.

“so… anything?” you glanced around the circle, and perhaps it was your brain overthinking, but you caught some suspicion.

shauna, unlike you, looked like she just went for a nature walk.

she strolled in behind you, chin high, the usual tension drained from her shoulders and replaced with something looser.

she stood behind you, sneer looming over your shoulder like she was your guard dog. nobody looked your way as she glared down every single person around that circle, her hand on the small of your waist. “are you guys fucking mute? answer her.”

“uh, no.” nat reported, gulping. “nothing south of camp.”

“no sign of her up north either.” travis added.

you glanced over at akilah, a hopeful glint in your eyes.

alas, she shook her head regretfully. you could only let your eyes flutter shut as your heart sunk to your stomach.

“okay, uh… good effort, everyone.” shauna slipped in as everybody waited in bated breath for your reply. you could only sigh softly, you hand flush against your forehead. “we try again at the crack of dawn. the moment the sun rises, we’re setting out. just get some sleep and save your energy for tomorrow.”

everybody gradually disperses from that dismissal.

you caught the “since when was she in charge?” from gen.

hands on your hips, you remained standing in the middle of camp as everybody retired to their huts. loitering behind you stood shauna, who had her arms crossed.

“you need sleep, l/n. no use worrying, it won’t help mari.”

“i can’t believe this happened because i was too distracted. i should’ve kept an eye on everybody.”

“oh come on, people should be able to look after themselves.”

“y’know, if you had just listened to me and stayed in your goddamn hut, none of this would be happening.”

shauna knocked her head back. “really? this again? will you give it a fucking rest already?” she began sauntering towards her own hut, before you grabbed her hand.

“shauna, stop walking away from me when we’re talking.”

“you listen to me, y/n. when i tell you to drop it, you drop it.”

taken aback by her assertive tone, you felt your hand slip from hers. you glanced around to see if anybody had heard, and you were glad to see nobody had a head out from their huts.

“i know you’re stressed about this mari situation,” lulled into a gentler tone, she continued, “and when i find that little bitch, i’ll beat her sorry ass to a pulp. but right now, you’ve gotta stop wasting energy yelling at me and relax.” she squeezed your shoulder. “the girls need you at your best, so why don’t you go get some shut eye. i’ll handle everything for tomorrow.”

maybe you have been preoccupied with the wrong things.

“okay.” you sighed, “you’re right. i need to just relax.”

by the time you had undone your hair and changed into a more comfortable set of clothes, it was well into the night. the wind had calmed, but the cold still crept through the gaps in your walls like it owned the place.

you were curled up on the narrow cot in the antler queen hut, shamelessly more spacious than the ones surrounding it.

you stared at the warped ceiling straws, trying to will your body to forget shauna’s mouth, her voice, her weight pressing into you like a promise. you should be thinking of a game plan to find mari, to worry about your friend, but all you could think about was a certain butcher with a nasty attitude.

then a gust circled your hut, and you turned to see the curtain pushed aside before a figure stepped through the arch.

you didn’t have to see her face to know it was her. no one else would dare sneak into the queen’s hut after dark--not unless they wanted to be exiled by lottie, or worse. shauna didn’t say a word as she slipped inside and draped the blind shut behind her. her boots barely made a sound as she crossed the floor.

she didn’t ask. just slid beneath the furs beside you, cool fingers brushing your arm before she settled in close.

her hand found your waist. her nose nudged the back of your neck. she sighed--like she had finally come home.

“…shauna?” you whispered, not moving, not even turning to face her. “i thought you were making plans for tomorrow.”

“shh,” she muttered quickly. “just go back to sleep.”

but you felt your heart race at her body heat mingling with yours. the way she was clinging onto you right then, thigh flush against yours, her breath soft and steady in your hair. shauna--the girl who’d rather gut a bitch before admitting she needed help--wasn’t here to start something rough or fast?

it was so odd to feel it; her need to lay beside you to sleep.

you didn’t say anything. you reached back and linked your fingers with hers, dragging it to hold in front of your chest.

outside, by the dead firepit, nat leaned against a splintered beam, her arms crossed. tai stood beside her, eyes narrowing at the faint light glowing through the cracks of your hut. the two had gathered to talk about ben’s situation, but watching shauna sneak across camp to the queen’s hut was something neither of them could ignore.

“oh my god,” tai muttered, “first the hickey, now this?”

“told you,” nat said, grinning like the smug bastard she was.

“no. no way. y/n is so--” tai scoffed, her arms crossed. “that’s why the bitch never gets punished. fuck, now i gotta do your chores for a month?”

nat shrugged, smug. “hey, if anything, i should’ve bet higher. you were never gonna win that one.”

tai cursed under her breath while nat laughed.

tai could not believe her eyes. for a moment, she was certain she was still asleep and this was some fucked up nightmare. but van’s sarcastic comment proved otherwise.

“someone got her vibrator working again.” van scoffed.

shauna, stirring what smelled like a hefty feast for breakfast. she pointed at the stack of rusty and misshaped plates. “help yourselves, it’s berry sauce with deer bacon.”

from your hut, you awoke to the commotion from outside. getting up sluggishly from your bed, you moved the bedsheet curtain out of the way, to be met with everybody emerging from their huts, and shauna… smiling?

“are you assholes just gonna stand there? mari’s waiting.”

van and tai shared a look of skepticism. the redhead, proving herself to be most daring of the bunch, risked losing a finger to poke the bear. “shauna, are you… well?”

and then, as if to conceal it, the butcher cracked a smirk.

“careful. your voice is so grating it’ll scare mari out of hiding.”

it silenced. van scoffed. “was that a joke? from shauna? oh my god, we’ve all been drugged in our sleep.”

you could hear misty let out a confused little laugh, like she didn’t know whether to be scared or amused. to be fair, the brunette was threatening to kill her just yesterday. tai stared openly, mouthing what the fuck at nat, who squinted at you, then back at the girl. like she was saying, i told you so.

“well,” you cleared your throat, stepping to stand in the light. “thanks for making breakfast, shauna. everybody should eat up. we’ll get more time to search for mari today.”

shauna filled a singular plate, strolling over to hand it to you personally. “enjoy, my queen.” she purred, smirking.

as everybody settled, you sat across camp with her.

watching your every move closely,

“she’s smiling?” melissa whispered, her arms crossed as she leant against the table. “i can’t remember the last time shauna wasn’t trying to kill someone with that permanent scowl.”

“no, no--joking,” van murmured, sounding halfway between impressed and alarmed. “shauna made a joke. did she put shrooms in the stew last night, or is this actually real?”

“yeah,” travis added under his breath, joining them. “since when does she talk to anyone unless she’s pissed?”

as they broke down the girl’s odd behaviour, the two of you sat isolated away from the team.

“i have an idea on how to punish mari when we find her.”

when. that’s ironically, rather optimistic for her.

“punish--? shauna, she could be half-dead and bleeding right now for all we know.” you scolded, picking at your berry sauce.

“it’s mari. she probably just ran off for attention.”

you were about to make some argument in protest, but you knew better than to bicker about something so trivial with shauna of all people. you just nodded, urging her to elaborate.

“since she loves running so much, let’s give her a reason to run.” her smile was… sinister, almost. sinister, but genuine, and that was probably what scared you most.

it was the way she sounded so excited talking about it.

“what’re you saying?” your tone came out fearful, hesitant.

“don’t you hear it?” she grinned, “the cards are calling.”

an; omg this took so long cuz my fuck ass school is throwing a million things at me at once… i want to update more and i promise yall there’s a lot of drafts waiting to be posted! ily :)

happy reading xx

[silentscrying]

🐾 snowprints

vet student!megumi x dog owner!reader

summary: when you find yourself in need of an emergency trip to the local vet clinic, it's late and the sign on the door is flipped to closed. luckily for you, animal science student megumi fushiguro is still around, and he's willing to help you and your dog out—and maybe get a little more than he bargained for in the process. but he's not used to letting people in, and you've never been particularly patient. when winter rolls around, will you be spending the holidays alone?

content/warnings: 20.7k words. complete. sfw. f!reader, you have a dog, megumi has his dogs, they are unbearably cute, megumi doesn't know how to communicate for shit, language, no use of y/n, christmas yay!!, aged up characters, including riko, she's in college, and she's a menace, (light) angst with a happy ending, mentions of deceased parents (typical fushiguro canon), soft, fluff, you know when your sister psychoanalyzes you at the kitchen table, car crash, alcohol, reader studies environmental science but can't keep plants alive for SHIT, so much unnecessary pining, gratuitous overuse of italics and em-dashes

note: this takes place in the same universe as out of my mind, but you don't have to read that to know what's going on here! though it may help with some context. happy hella late birthday megumi fushiguro you will always be famous

PART I // BATMAN & ROBIN

IT’S TEN O’CLOCK and dark when Batman decides to cause problems.

Batman, of course, being your three-year-old German shepherd mix, the one currently whining and staring up at you with big, dark puppy eyes while he holds one paw up limply.

“Oh, little buddy,” you sigh as you squat down in front of him, despite the fact that he hasn’t been little in a very long time. He’s been restless all night, so you caved and took him on a late night walk, and it’s so dark you can’t tell what’s wrong with his paw even in the glow of the phone flashlight.

God, fuck. Where’s the closest vet? The one in the city is definitely closed. You’re fairly certain there’s a smaller one somewhere on the outskirts of the JU campus, though, one that the pre-vet students use for clinicals.

“C’mon, champ,” you murmur, tugging gently on Batman’s leash. “Let’s go get you checked out, huh?”

The early September air is chilly, a little bit of a bite to it. You’re glad the temperatures haven’t yet dropped below freezing, so you don’t need to let your car defrost before going. “Up,” you say, patting the passenger seat with the door held open for Batman.

You punch the clinic into maps and pull out of your suburban street into the busier roads. It’s not far, thankfully, and you make a beeline for the door with Batman on your heels, not noticing until you’re right in front of it that the massive sign hanging on the door is flipped to CLOSED.

“No,” you groan, leaning forward and pressing your forehead to the cool glass of the closed door. You close your eyes, wondering what the fuck you’re gonna do, and then—thump.

You nearly jump out of your skin, eyes flying open and gaze raising to meet the amused eyes of a guy on the other side of the door, who’s trying and failing to suppress a smile that feels a little teasing. Oops.

You step back and wave sheepishly, and the boy unlocks the door and swings it open, taking in the sight of you and your limping dog.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt. “I know you’re closed and it’s some ungodly hour on a Tuesday, I just didn’t know what else to do—”

“It's fine,” he says, waving it off. “I’m just cleaning up, it’s not a hassle. Come on.” Batman has no qualms about following the guy through the open door, so you follow, glancing around the small clinic. It’s pretty sparse, save for the bulletin board overflowing with pet photos on one wall.

“Fushiguro,” the guy says in introduction, glancing back over his shoulder at you. He’s got deep blue eyes that match his dark scrubs, and his hair sticks out every which way in a manner that feels intentional. He must be around your age. It takes you a beat to remember yourself and give him your own name, stuttered out as you pass into the back exam room.

There’s a white coat tossed haphazardly over a spinning chair, and the guy—Fushiguro—picks Batman up like he weighs nothing and situates him on the metal table.

“Hey, bud. What’s your name?” he asks, scratching behind Batman’s ears. Your dog is usually weary of vets, but today his tail pounds on the metal of the table as he raises his head to sniff at Fushiguro’s face.

“Batman.”

Fushiguro’s gaze snaps to you and he blinks, evidently thinking you’re joking. “No.”

“Yes.” You hold your index fingers up above your head to imitate your dog’s pointy ears. “Batman.”

“Oh. My god,” he says. “And what, you’re Robin?”

“I am not the sidekick in this situation.”

“Batman dragged you out here at eleven on a school night. You absolutely are the sidekick.”

You scoff, moving up to the table and stroking Batman’s fur. “Am I just a sidekick to you, little guy?” you coo. “You wanna be a hero so bad?” He noses happily at your palm.

Fushiguro side-eyes you, half-grimacing as he grabs Batman’s paw to look at it. He doesn’t seem to mind, which is honestly a shock. He hates people touching his paws, even you. “You baby talk your dog?”

“You judge your patients?”

“Course not,” Fushiguro says, smirking as he looks back at you. “Just their owners.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the huff of laughter, and his dark eyes reflect the fluorescent overhead light as he turns away. He’s undeniably attractive—you don’t remember seeing him around campus.

“You go to JU?” you ask, and he nods.

“Sophomore. Pre-vet. D’you?”

“Nah, Kaisen.” Your school is a lot smaller than the neighboring Jujutsu University. They’ve got something of an athletic rivalry with Kaisen College, but you really don’t care. “Environmental science.”

“You know everything there is to know about trees, or what?” His tone is teasing, and you know he doesn’t mean anything by it. The fact is you do know more about trees than normal college students probably should. Doesn’t mean you can keep plants alive for shit, though.

You’d guess there’s actually a fair bit of crossover between your course of study and a pre-vet student’s bio track, but you say, “I specialize in rare long grasses, actually.” It comes out so deadpan that he glances at you, brows knit together, trying to gauge if you’re being serious. You only last a second before you crack under his scrutiny, and he shakes his head and huffs as he turns back to Batman, who is now trying to lick Fushiguro’s nose.

“Excuse me,” he says. This only seems to encourage the dog kisses, but Fushiguro decides to just ignore them. He hums, grabbing a pair of tweezers and squinting as he moves to pull something out of Batman’s paw. “Just a splinter. The pad of a dog’s paw is one of the most sensitive parts of their body, so it’s not surprising he was so worked up about it.” You watch as he pulls out a thin sliver of wood, probably from stepping on some splintering twig, and drops it into a tray on the table.

You watch as your dog drops his paw back to the table and stands up, tail wagging at lightning speed, like nothing was ever wrong. He jumps off the table before Fushiguro can grab him and bounds over to you, rubbing himself along the outside of your leg like a giant cat.

“How much do I owe you?” you ask, pulling out your card, but he waves you off.

“It was literally a splinter.”

“But—”

“Honestly, it’d be more work to boot up the payment system again anyway. Don’t worry about it.” He holds your gaze, and you can’t tell if he’s lying about the payment system or not, but you slide your card back into your wallet without complaint.

Something passes between you, some weird spark of recognition—not that you’ve met before. You know you haven’t. But you don’t typically have this kind of easy banter with strangers. Something about this guy intrigues you, and you don’t particularly want to stop talking to him.

But you’ve already kept him past close, and you need to get home.

The moment breaks when Fushiguro clears his throat, leaning over to grab something off the counter. “Right. Well, give me a call if he starts limping again, but he should be alright.” He holds out a hand and you realize he’s offering you a business card, weirdly professional for a student.

M. FUSHIGURO Veterinary Technician Trainee, JU

His number and email are printed beneath it in small sans serif lettering.

“Oh, you’re fancy.” You raise a brow at him, tucking the card into your jacket pocket. “Thank you. Seriously.”

“Well, who am I to refuse Batman?” he says wryly. He walks you to the door, and you try not to think too much of it—he just needs to lock up behind you, probably.

Before you slip out, he leans down and pats Batman on the head, earning a happy little tail-wag in response.

“Drive safe, Robin,” he calls, and you groan at the nickname as you unlock your car.

At home, you key his number into your phone and save the contact as fushiguro (cute vet). You sit there for way too long debating over whether you should text him—Batman’s fine, and it’s late, and he gave you a business card. Not exactly an invitation to flirt, tempting as that might be.

But you really want to.

“Should I text him?” you ask your dog, who’s decided to curl up right beside your bed and look up at you, waiting for an invitation. Your twin bed is not big enough for this and he knows it, but he always seems to think he’s a smaller dog than he really is.

Batman, unhelpfully, tilts his head at you, his perky ears flapping with the motion.

Maybe it’s because it’s past eleven and it’s dark out and you’re exhausted and you don’t have the best sense of judgment right now. Maybe it’s because Fushiguro’s just really cute.

“You’re right,” you say, nudging Batman with a socked foot. “No use waiting. Say cheese.”

you: [1 Image Attachment] you: gotham city’s savior says thank you

It’s kind of embarrassing how you sit and stare at the screen for two minutes, waiting for him to answer. Batman snorts, like he’s making fun of you, and you lock your phone and toss it on the bedside table. “Oh, don’t start.”

Your roommate and best friend, Setsuko Sasaki, is studying abroad in Japan for the semester. It’s been lonely, strange without her occupying the second bedroom of your little rented townhouse. You’d like to say this is why you’ve resorted to talking to your dog, but that would very much be a lie, because you’ve always done this. Sometimes, when she’s home, Suko adopts a gruff, low voice and answers for him.

You jump when your phone buzzes and make yourself count to three before checking the screen.

fushiguro (cute vet): don’t mention it. always had a soft spot for batman, anyway. fushiguro (cute vet): his sidekick’s alright too.

“Oh, he likes you,” you tell Batman. “Wingman. Thanks, little buddy.”

you: well, send a bat signal if you’re ever in mortal peril and i might show up

After that, you try to push Fushiguro to the back of your mind. He doesn’t go to Kaisen, so it’s not like you can stalk him in the university directory. You have no reason to run into him around town. As the semester ramps up and you fall back into your routine of classes and exams and friends, you don’t think too much about the cute vet tech who happened to be around that one night.

Or, you don’t for a grand total of six days.

You’re on a jog with Batman, afternoon sun making up for the fall chill in the air that’s hung around since it stormed last night. You don’t intend to stop, but Batman abruptly sticks his nose in the dirt about halfway through your run and refuses to move.

“Dude.” You backtrack and see that he’s discovered a couple pairs of dog prints, pressed faintly into the damp earth. “Oh, you smell friends, huh?” He tugs you forward, following the scent of these other dogs. “Hey!”

The thing about having a massive German shepherd mix, even one as docile as Batman, is that he is inarguably a lot stronger than you. So you don’t really have much of a choice but to stumble along after him as he bounds across the grass and comes out on the other side of the path—you don’t normally come this way, because there’s a dog park over here and he gets way too excited.

But today he’s on a mission, and you only see two other dogs in the fenced-in park—two huge balls of fluff, one white and one black. “Fine,” you say begrudgingly, undoing the gate and letting Batman off his leash. “Go play. But we aren’t staying long.”

He bounds off toward the other dogs while you latch the gate behind you, and then a familiar voice has you spinning around with your eyes wide. “Bat signal wasn’t me,” Fushiguro says, raising both hands in a gesture of innocence. “They did it.” He points at the other dogs, who are now engaged in a butt-sniffing circle with yours.

“Fushiguro!” You grin, making your way over to him. Once the other two dogs have deemed Batman a worthy playmate, they move on to you, sniffing at your palms and circling around you until the black one jumps up and nearly knocks you over with the force of it. “Oh, hello!”

“Kuro,” Fushiguro chides, rushing forward to tug at his collar. “Hey. Down.”

“It’s okay,” you promise through a fit of giggles as Kuro tries to basically hug you. “Oh, you’re cute, aren’t you? Hi, Kuro.”

Fushiguro huffs out a breath of relief when Kuro finally gets down. “That’s Shiro,” he says, gesturing to the white dog, who is now chasing Batman around the park. “Think she’s found a friend.”

“He dragged me all the way here,” you tell Fushiguro. “Guess he missed you or something.”

“Just him?”

You grin. “What, you think I was out here pining after you?” He only smirks in response. “I don’t even know your name, M. Fushiguro. What good is a business card without your first name on it?”

He hums, shoving his hands into his pockets, considering. “Guess.”

“Guess,” you echo. “Okay. Um. Michael.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Max.”

“Nope.”

“Um, Maverick.”

“What the hell?” He looks at you with furrowed brows. “Who in their right mind would name their kid—”

“Okay, hey,” you interrupt, holding up your hands. “I just watched Top Gun, okay? What do you want from me?”

“M—”

“Nope, out of tries for today. Three strikes, you’re out.” He shrugs, wholly unaffected, like this is just how the world works and he’s got no say it in whatsoever.

You gape at him, planting your hands on your hips in affront. “I hope you know I will be insufferable every single day until I’m right.”

Batman trots back over, prancing between you and Fushiguro until he crouches down to pet him. “You come here a lot?” you ask, glancing around the empty park. “I’ve never seen you here. Or your dogs. I think I’d remember giant balls of fluff like that.”

“Yeah, not often,” Fushiguro says, pushing back to his feet. “But Kuro’s been so restless all day. Had to let him run his energy down somehow.” The dog in question is chasing his own tail in circles while Shiro looks at him, unimpressed. “You live over here?”

“Few blocks out, yeah.” Your place is between the two campuses, an easy walk to both places because Suko takes Japanese classes at JU. Apparently Fushiguro doesn’t live too far away, either, just on the other side of the skate park where you know your friend Hajime hangs out all the time.

By “hangs out,” you mean he probably (definitely) buys weed there, but that’s not your business. Maybe he and Fushiguro know each other—they both go to JU. But Hajime’s a senior, so probably not.

You don’t get the chance to ask because Fushiguro’s phone rings, and he sighs and answers it with a glance at you that might be apologetic or might be mildly irritated. Hard to tell with him.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” he says gruffly. “Okay. See you.” He hangs up and tucks his phone back into his pocket, then whistles for the dogs. “Time to go.”

“Good to see you,” you blurt before he can turn away. He seems a little taken aback, but you don’t break eye contact, and you think he might be on the brink of a smile.

“You too, sidekick.”

—

After that, the two of you start texting more often, gradually moving from photos of your dogs to real conversation. And you keep your promise to be insufferable about finding out his name. You send him new M-names every day, never seeming to get any closer to the truth. For his part, he refuses to call you anything but Robin, cementing your existence as a superhero sidekick and nothing more.

you: new theory you: the M stands for mr you: monsieur you: m’lord

He dislikes the messages in response, and you send him a teary-eyed emoji and hope the guilt is enough to get him to tell you.

It is not.

You and Fushiguro are in some sort of convoluted orbit around one another, sometimes colliding, sometimes drifting away. There’s really no reason you should keep stumbling across him, considering you go to different schools, live in different places, study different things.

But after that first day at the dog park, you might take Batman there a little bit more often.

Every time you talk, Fushiguro starts to take up more and more headspace. You find yourself searching for his flash of ink-dark hair, spiky and disheveled, in every crowd. Every set of fading prints in the grass or mud might be his, might be Shiro’s or Kuro’s. It’s stupid, how much you’re thinking about this boy.

At some point you start dragging your friends out to the coffee shops between your two campuses to do work, rather than the one in the student center. You justify it to yourself with the half-assed excuse that if you run into your friends less, you’ll get more work done, but really you’re just hoping he’ll be there. And your friends are happy to oblige, especially Riko, if it means she’ll get a glimpse of this mystery vet man you don’t shut up about.

Riko’s a year below you at Kaisen, but you know her from back home. She’s a frenetic ball of energy and indignation, and she’s fully prepared to go to every coffee shop in a ten-mile radius for the purposes of what she calls “the mission.”

But the coffee at the second place you try is actually god-tier, and you wind up there regularly after that, hunkering down to grind out your assignments in your spare time. It’s there that he finds you, sliding into the seat right across from yours so abruptly that you nearly fall out of your chair—your noise-canceling headphones really block out the entire world. He smirks as you sheepishly tug them down around your neck, glaring.

“Warn a girl, Jesus!”

“I did,” he drawls, taking a sip of his coffee. “Twice.”

“Boo.” You kind of forgot about your own drink because you were so into your work, and you pick it back up now, mostly for something to do with your hands. “Well, hi. What’re you up to?”

“Same as you, I think.” He nods at your laptop. “Mind if I hang out here?”

“You certainly can, but you’ve just stolen someone’s seat and you might have to fight for your life when she gets back from the bathroom.” His eyes widen almost imperceptibly, and as if on cue, Riko is beelining toward the table from across the room.

“Well hello, Mr. Seat Thief. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Fushiguro seems to be gauging Riko, and you realize this is kind of the first look he’s gotten into your private life outside of your dog, and you’re irrationally nervous about it. But he scoots over and grabs a chair from the next table over, giving Riko a mocking bow in response.

“Better?”

Riko nods, and then grabs his coffee and takes a long drag out of it. He doesn’t object, and that should have been your warning—you can see when the bitterness of it hits her all at once, her face twisting in some combination of shock and despair and mild outrage.

“Oh my god,” you say as Riko grabs her water bottle and chugs to get the taste out of her mouth, aggressively shoving Fushiguro's coffee back toward him. “Of course you drink coffee black, you fucking loser.”

“What, you dump six cups of sugar in yours? That’s not coffee.” You flip him off instead of justifying this with a real response.

“I was gonna use that as payment for your crimes,” Riko gasps dramatically, leaning over the table, “but I was instead punished. You’re in my debt now.” She glares at him fiercely, turning up her nose, before abruptly abandoning the bit and grinning at him. “I’m Riko, by the way.”

He snorts, but a very small hint of a smile appears in a corner of his mouth. “Fushiguro.”

Riko nods and glances from him to you, as if to say really? This guy? You can already hear the analysis she’ll be giving you on the way home. Easy on the eyes, I get it, but does he like, have a personality?

“I did research,” you tell Fushiguro, nudging Riko’s shin under the table in warning. “On you.”

“You stalked me online, is what you’re saying.” You’re learning that he’s not a very expressive person. He treats laughs and smiles like rare currency, and everything you need to know about what he’s thinking is in the tiniest shifts—a downturned brow, a blink, a tilt of the head. You’re still learning, but you like to think you’ve got it down enough to know that this doesn’t actually bother him, despite the resting angry face.

“Yes,” you say, shameless. “Except when I typed in Fushiguro and your school, I got all these results for the editor of your campus paper. You have a sister?”

If he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it. “Tsumiki, yeah.”

He doesn’t offer more, so you push. “Older?” You already know the answer, but best let him believe the depth of your internet stalking is shallower than it really was.

“Two years. She’s a senior.”

“Cool. I don’t know a ton of siblings that go to the same school.”

“You’d be surprised,” he sighs. “My cousin and her twin sister both go there, too. And one my roommates’ half-brothers.”

“Convenient, I guess,” you concede. “Sibling discount or something?”

“Nah, but it was easier this way,” he says, pulling a textbook out of his bag. “Go—uh, our legal guardian works around here anyway.”

Riko raises a brow but doesn’t ask, which is a remarkable show of restraint for her.

Legal guardian. Parents aren’t in the picture, then. You want to ask but you don’t, not yet.

The three of you buckle down and get some work done, casually exchanging conversation over the next few hours, and eventually Fushiguro has to head out. “Rehearsal,” he says.

“Rehearsal?” Riko asks, glancing at you as if you know what he’s talking about. You don’t, but you have some absolutely ridiculous mental image of Fushiguro in choir and you almost laugh out loud.

But he just says, as if it’s nothing at all, “Oh, yeah, I’m in a band.”

“What?” you nearly shout, jumping out of your chair so fast it pushes across the floor with a scrrcck. “You’re in a band? You didn’t think to tell me this before? What’s it called? Can I listen—”

“Nope.”

“But—”

“Nice to meet you, Riko,” he says loudly, cutting you off as he slings his bag over one shoulder. He mock-salutes you, two fingers to his brow as he turns to go. “Robin.”

You sink back into your seat and watch him leave, only turning back to Riko when the door swings closed. She opens her mouth and you hold out a hand. “Don’t start.”

—

At some point you start calling, letting yourself fill the silence of your little townhouse with idle chatter as he listens. He’s not one for small talk, you learn, and he’s a good listener. And he pays attention. He remembers the stupid little details you give him, the names of classmates and professors you can’t stand.

“Katie from Ohio?” he asks when you’re ranting one day about the partner you’ve been assigned in enviro. “We don’t like her, correct?” We.

“We do not.” Katie from Ohio does not pull her weight in group projects, and it’s driving you up the wall.

“You tell your prof about it? Isn’t this your favorite one?”

“Yeah, he is,” you groan. Haibara teaches your conservation bio class, and he also taught ecology your freshman year, and he’s the best teacher you’ve ever had. “But no. I don’t want to bother him about it. It’s whatever.”

He hums, unimpressed. “Is it?”

You groan, feeling like you’re getting lectured by your parents. You hate when other people are right. “You want me to talk to him.”

“I’m just saying, if you get a shit grade and it’s Katie’s fault, don’t come crying to me.”

“I will, though,” you say, putting your phone on speaker and setting it on the counter while you pour dog food into Batman’s bowl. “It’ll be super dramatic. I’ll sob in your arms and everything.”

He snorts. “Talk to your prof, Robin.” You stick your tongue out like he can see you.

But you do talk to your prof, and Haibara is your favorite for a reason. Katie gets a shit grade. You do not. Fushiguro does, in fact, say “I told you so.”

By mid-September, you still have no idea what Fushiguro’s first name is. You’re at the end of your rope.

you: GOOD MORNING MASON fushiguro (cute vet): no. you: MORT fushiguro (cute vet): no. you: why don’t you want me to know. is it crazy you: melvin fushiguro (cute vet): NO. you: marie you: meghan fushiguro (cute vet): … you: well, that’s it you: i’m calling you maleficent until you tell me you: i’m gonna do it in public too you: so loud

INCOMING CALL: FUSHIGURO (CUTE VET)

You don’t greet each other when you pick up—you never have. Instead, Fushiguro just says, “You could’ve picked like, ten other Disney characters and you went with Maleficent?”

“Don’t hate. You’d rather be Mufasa? Boy’s dead.”

“Oh my god.” Everything Fushiguro says sounds long-suffering. You wonder what it sounds like when he laughs, really laughs, if those walls ever break down and he lets himself actually outwardly express his emotions.

“I can call you Mickey Mouse if you really want—” Batman starts barking from his spot at the window, and you groan, waving your hand at him pointlessly as you try to get him to stop. “Hey! No! There is nothing outside, what are you on about?”

“He probably just thinks you’re barking with him,” Fushiguro says unhelpfully.

“Oh, and yours don’t bark out of turn?”

“Not really.”

Now that you think about it, you actually aren’t sure you’ve ever heard Shiro and Kuro bark aside from excited greetings at the dog park. “What the fuck, dude? Do they teach you the secrets of the trade in vet school?”

“Nah, I’m just a natural.” He says it so deadpan you aren’t sure if he’s joking or actually being cocky.

“Come over and help, then,” you say, before you can think it through. It’s a Saturday night, and clearly neither of you have anything better to do.

You aren’t sure what exactly you’re expecting him to say, but for some reason you’re surprised when he just responds, “Okay.”

“Bring the dogs.” You text him your address, and half an hour later he shows up with the dogs in tow. Meeting him at the door, you see his car parked along the curb. It’s small, black, as unreadable and practical as everything else about him.

“That,” he says, pointing to the long-deceased cactus in the pot on your front stoop, “is dead.” Probably because it’s been there since August and you forgot it was there after one week.

“Yes, thank you, very astute.”

“Isn’t keeping plants alive your whole thing? What are they teaching you?”

“Okay.” You start to close the door, but Shiro bounces forward and noses between it excitedly, and you laugh, opening it to let her and Kuro in. “Be nice,” you warn Fushiguro, letting him step inside. He rolls his eyes as he passes, and Batman nearly knocks him over with how excitedly he leaps up to greet him.

He’s also barking, and you raise a brow at Fushiguro expectantly. “Okay, Dog Whisperer. Do your thing.” You close the door behind him, and in the two seconds that you’re turned away, Batman fucking stops barking.

You whirl around, planting your hands on your hips, and find Fushiguro kneeling in front of your very silent, very happy dog.

“What the fuck.”

He looks up at you with the most smug expression on his face, and you throw up your hands in exasperation.

“Hey, don’t pout about it,” he teases, standing and following you into the living room. “That’s what you wanted.”

“I wanted you to teach me how to make him stop, but apparently you just slipped him treats behind my back.”

“Insult to my talents,” he says, hesitating when Kuro leaps onto your couch. “Are they allowed—”

“Ah, yeah, it’s fine.” Batman follows suit. “Got enough dog hair on that couch to make another couch, probably.”

You suddenly find you don’t really know what to say. Because Fushiguro is here, in your house, on a Saturday, your dog is not barking, and you’re alone. Alone with a guy you are very much attracted to. Suddenly you just don’t know any of the words in the English language.

But Fushiguro seems entirely at ease. He always does, really. There’s a quiet sort of confidence about him, and you aren’t sure if it’s fabricated or not. He just looks like he belongs wherever he is, nonchalant about everything.

“Done any more stalking?” he asks, sitting next to Shiro on the floor. You flush a little, feeling weirdly caught out when you aren’t the one bringing it up.

“No, but I might if you don’t tell me more about this band of yours.”

He shakes his head, absently playing with Shiro’s fur. “Just a crazy idea my housemates had. We just practice in the basement. Probably not very good.”

You opt to sit on Shiro’s other side on the ground, and Batman uses the opportunity to lick you directly in the face, since he’s on the couch and you’re now eye-level. “Thank you,” you tell him dryly, shoving his snout away.

“Don’t get humble now,” you tell Fushiguro. “What do you play? Or do you sing?” You really can’t imagine him singing. Everything about this guy screams quiet bass player.

Apparently you’re right. He won’t tell you the name of his band, and allegedly he doesn’t have any gigs this month, so you let it drop—but only for now. “Cagey,” you accuse him, but you’re smiling.

You talk about your courseloads for the semester—his is pretty bio and anatomy-heavy this semester where yours is mostly ecology and conservation-focused, but there’s a bit of overlap in your curriculum, and you find that it’s easy to make conversation about your respective career paths, even though he won’t stop bringing up the fact that you managed to kill a cactus.

“They’re notoriously hard to kill,” he drawls. “Did you try to?”

“No!” You cross your arms over your chest indignantly. “Mean.”

“Honest and mean aren’t the same thing.”

You don’t really notice the sun going down until the living room is swathed in shadow and you have to flip on the floor lamp. It’s been hours by now, but it’s felt like minutes. Every thing you learn about Fushiguro opens up ten new lines of questioning, and you want to know so much more about him. But he shrouds himself in this mystery you can’t seem to get around.

Eventually you stand up to grab snacks from the kitchen, and when you return you find Batman practically on top of Fushiguro, licking his face while Fushiguro just takes it. Cute, you think uselessly.

Batman. But also Fushiguro. And also just the sight of Fushiguro playing with your dog and looking entirely at home on your shaggy living room floor. Fuck, he’s really cute.

“Have you always had dogs?”

He shakes his head as he sits up and nudges Batman off of him, gaze going just a little distant. “Not ‘til I was a teenager.” There’s more there.

“Your idea? Tsumiki’s?”

He shrugs it off, picking at loose threads on his sleeve that don’t exist, some nervous tic he’s developed that seems to only show up when you try to talk about him. Hence, shroud of mystery.

Like you gathered at the coffee shop, his parents aren’t in the picture—dead or absent, though, you’re not sure. He does tell you a little bit about his legal guardian. His name’s Gojo, and according to Fushiguro he is certifiably insane. He says this enough that you know he means it fondly—if he didn’t, he just wouldn’t bring Gojo up at all.

It shouldn’t be possible to talk so much and learn so little, but the hours keep slipping by and finally neither of you can hide the yawns punctuating your conversation. “I should go,” he says, and you reluctantly lead him to the door, crouching to say bye to Shiro and Kuro before you open the door.

“Drive safe, Fushiguro.”

You don’t expect him to respond, but he pauses halfway down your drive, turning to look at you over his shoulder. The moon is out now, and it casts him and his dark clothes in silver. You suddenly find you can’t look away.

Not that you really want to.

“Megumi,” he says.

“What?”

“My name.” He swallows, looking away quickly before looking back. “You can call me Megumi. If you want.”

Chill. Be chill, you tell yourself, trying to school your features into that same neutral expression Fushiguro—Megumi—always has, but you know it’s not working. You can’t help but smile. You feel, weirdly, like you’ve earned something.

“Okay,” you say, leaning on the doorjamb. “Megumi.”

Megumi.

You do one last little bit of internet stalking that night, because you just want to know.

His name means blessing.

—

Everything about Megumi’s house speaks to the collision of three wildly different college-aged boys tempered by the saving grace of one girl.

Remotes for a range of gaming consoles are sprawled across the floor, there are way too many half-empty bags of Doritos, and you’re pretty sure there’s just a single half of a drumstick stuck between two of the couch cushions. But there are also nice, dark tapestries pinned to the walls, string lights bordering the room, a couple plants that are better-kept than any of yours have been.

You know very little about Megumi’s three housemates except that one is a golden retriever in human form, one is a skater boy, and one is a senior named Kirara who somehow keeps them all in check.

“Sorry for the mess,” he says, gesturing at the controllers and chip bags that honestly don’t constitute a mess in your book. Not after all the boys’ dorms you’ve seen, including Hajime’s.

“I like it,” you say honestly. “Also, it smells good in here. I’m proud. Kirara?”

“Kirara.” He nods and leads you to the couch, where you confirm that yes, that’s a broken drumstick.

“I don’t even—Jesus,” Megumi says, pulling it out of the gap between the cushions and tossing it onto the low coffee table. “He breaks more of these than I think is normal.”

“He being skater boy or golden retriever?” you ask as you tug your legs onto the couch to sit cross-legged, facing him. You dragged Batman with you—Megumi said his dogs would appreciate the company—and he’s taken it upon himself to sniff every corner of the house before deeming it suitable for playtime.

“Golden retriever. His name’s Yuji. Skater boy is Ino.” None of his housemates are here—it’s a random Thursday afternoon and the two of you happened to not have classes after two thirty.

“How’d you meet them?”

“Kirara went to my high school, so I knew her before coming here. I knew Ino too, actually. Yuji—I don’t know that anyone really meets him so much as gets forcibly adopted by him?” He somehow manages to make his scoff sound affectionate. “Him and our friend Kugisaki. They’re crazy, but we were all in the same orientation group freshman year.”

“Your friends sound fun.” You like the idea of two outgoing freshmen just deciding Megumi had to be their friend. “How’d you know Ino?”

He tugs at the sleeve of his black henley, picking at a nonexistent string. There’s a bit of a pause before he says, “His—I don’t know, his mentor? Nanami, he knows Gojo. So he was around sometimes.”

You don’t really know what to ask, simply because there’s so much to ask. It doesn’t take a detective to know there’s a lot to unpack in Megumi’s past. “How long have you been…” What’s the proper term for this? “Has Gojo been around, like… since you were a kid, or...?”

Despite your attempt to catch his gaze, Megumi’s eyes are trained on the far wall. “Kind of. Yeah.”

When he doesn’t elaborate, you fight to keep your lips sealed, to not push. You don’t have a right to his past. He can tell you if he wants to. But you’ve always been impatient.

And it’s starting to become a pattern, this strange caginess about his own life. His family, his friends. Every so often he lets something slip, and then it’s like you can see the doors in his mind slam shut—six deadbolts holding you out.

You know a little bit about Gojo, but that’s where the information stops. You drop hints that you want to meet Tsumiki, and whether he’s protective or just too oblivious to pick up on them, you can’t tell.

Maybe, then, the issue is that you haven’t given him much either. He’s met your dog and Riko, but maybe you need to offer him more of yourself before he’s comfortable reciprocating.

So you do. You tell him about your family, sitting on his couch with Shiro at his feet and Batman between you, Kuro unable to sit still. He listens while you talk, unsettlingly attentive eyes intent on you. You live about a half-hour drive away from your parents' place, you tell him, though you don’t go home often.

“It’s not that I don’t like my family,” you sigh, leaning back into the couch cushions and stroking Batman’s fur. “It’s more just that they’re never there, always on business, wrapped up in their own shit. So there’s just… no reason for me to stick around, except a couple times a year on holidays.” You shrug. “At least here it’s not an empty house. Or it’s not usually. When my roommate’s not in fucking Japan.”

“At least Japan’s cool,” he says, shrugging.

You sit up, leaning toward him. “You’ve been?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, once. Gojo said Tsumiki and I weren’t allowed to hit sixteen without having been on a stupid-long flight somewhere. Which sounds insane, but that’s pretty standard Gojo logic for you, I guess.”

“That’s so cool,” you sigh, part of you wishing you could be on a stupid-long flight right now. On the way to somewhere warm, preferably. Fall is starting to give way to an early winter, and you’re not looking forward to running Batman in the cold.

Travel, at least, seems to be a safe topic, and the two of you trade stories about road trips and flights and different cities. You challenge Megumi to Mario Kart at some point and immediately regret it, because why is he so good?

After he thoroughly kicks your ass, you sink back into conversation, walk the dogs, and eventually part ways so you can get some work done.

megumi (cute vet): you know when somebody says they’ll text you when they get home megumi (cute vet): and they don’t? you: SHIT SORRY megumi (cute vet): you’re not dead. you: NOPE you: sorry i got back and then batman knocked over a lamp megumi (cute vet): you don’t have to cover for his vigilantism, sidekick. i already know.

You do feel bad for forgetting to text him, but part of you is a little warmed by the fact that he was worried. Not that he’d ever admit to being worried about anyone, except maybe a dog.

you: okay fine he was stopping a robbery you: happy? megumi (cute vet): depends on what they were trying to steal

The work on your desk says you should stop texting and buckle down on your assignments, but he starts teasing, and you start feeding into it, and then you’re on the phone again, and by the time you finally hang up it’s too late to reasonably get anything done.

You can’t say you’re particularly upset about it.

—

The semester ramps up quickly, and you’re drowning in work. That’s your excuse when your basil plant by the kitchen sink dies a week after you bring it home—you’re just busy.

Megumi notices, and the next time he’s over a rosemary plant mysteriously appears in its place. He denies any involvement.

When you aren’t with Riko or Hajime, on the phone with Suko, or hanging out with friends from class, you’re with Megumi. His place, your place, the dog park, the coffee shop. It hasn’t reached a point where your friends comment on how much time you spend together (except Riko, who has a loud opinion on everything and does not care if other people don’t want to hear it), but you like the hours you steal during the week just walking around or drinking coffee or trading idle conversation.

You even visit him at work one Sunday when the clinic is slow, watching him handle the few dogs and single cat that come through. He’s easygoing with the clients and has that same calming effect on every animal—like he speaks some secret language, understands them in a way other people don’t. You love watching him like this.

You like this guy. It’s not rocket science—you put him in your contacts as “cute vet” the day you met him. The hard part is that Megumi is too difficult to read. If he has feelings for you, you have no idea. You don’t think he’d go out of his way to spend time with someone he didn’t genuinely like, but whether it’s platonic or not is so fucking over your head.

Until you finally meet one of his friends.

It’s Riko’s doing, really. The two of you are at the coffee shop when she strikes up a conversation with a redhead in line, and it doesn’t take long for her to make the connection, probably because they’re both talking ten miles a minute and not holding anything back.

“Oh my god!” Riko screeches, turning to you after you place your order. “Hey! This is Nobara. She’s friends with Fushiguro.”

She beams at you. “How do you guys know Fushiguro?”

Riko answers for you. “The vet. She has a dog, the clinic was closed, he was there. It was probably super romantic.” You groan.

Nobara’s mouth forms a small O and then she says, “Ah, you must be the sidekick.”

You can’t stifle your laugh. “He even calls me that when he’s talking to other people?”

She laughs, shaking her head. “No, he doesn’t tell anyone anything. Ever. But that’s what you’re in his phone as, and I saw his screen before he could hide it.” She leans in conspiratorially. “He won’t tell us who you are, which means he’s into you, y’know that, right?”

“Um. Is he? I don’t really—”

“Girl,” Nobara says flatly. “He doesn’t talk to people. Yuji and I have to force that guy out of the house half the time. If he’s hanging out with you, it’s because he likes you. Not that he knows that, probably. He’s horrible at feelings. I offered to give him a free therapy session and he said he’d rather become a monk.”

Riko mutters something about how that wouldn’t be too far off from whatever aesthetic he has going on right now, but you’re hung up on something else—Yuji and I.

“Oh my god,” you say, realizing something. “You’re Kugisaki.”

Her entire face lights up and she bounces on the balls of her feet. “He told you about me?” she squeals. “Ooh, he does love me! I’m gonna give him so much shit! What did he say? Was it good?”

The three of you end up talking for half an hour, after you all get your coffee and find an empty table. Nobara talks a mile a minute, but you can’t help hanging on to every word she says—she has a lot to say about Fushiguro, and you feel like you might be learning more about him this way than from the numerous conversations you’ve had with him.

She lives down the street from his place. She knows Gojo, who is apparently exactly the way Megumi described him—loud and eccentric and kind of stupid, but a guy who obviously loves his kids. She and Yuji, true to Megumi’s recollection, basically forced their friendship upon him on the first day of school, and they’ve been a trio ever since.

“He doesn’t tell anyone shit,” Nobara says, echoing her own words from earlier. “I feel like I probably know more about him from Gojo than anything. Or reading his notifications over his shoulder.” She smirks. “But he’s a good guy. I wouldn’t put up with his shit if I didn’t mean that.”

“About—what you said earlier, about him… maybe having feelings for me,” you start.

“Definitely having feelings for you,” she corrects. “Whether he knows or not? Undetermined.”

“Right. Uh.” You don’t get the idea that Nobara is a person you ever want to argue with. “Could you not… mention anything about that? To him?”

She sighs. “Course I won’t. Y’know, the guys always say I can’t keep my nose out of things, but two of my roommates have been in love for years and haven’t done anything and I haven’t said a word. Even though it sucks out part of my soul every time they’re in a room together and they just stare longingly when the other one isn’t looking. They’re so stupid.”

“You and Fushiguro are also stupid,” Riko says helpfully. You glare at her, and she throws her hands up in exasperation. “What? You like him, right? You can’t look me in the eyes and say you don’t like him.”

“He is a good friend,” you say, feeling the burn in your cheeks give you away even before Riko starts cackling.

“I like you,” Nobara tells her, sizing her up. “I might regret saying this, but I think I need you to meet one of my housemates. You could be chaos goblins together. I feel it in my bones.”

Riko rubs her hands together like she’s plotting something, and you think you should probably keep her as far away from said housemate as possible.

Eventually, Nobara pushes to her feet, draining the rest of her coffee and slinging her bag over her shoulder. “I gotta go, but I’m so glad I ran into you. I feel like a spy, knowing Fushiguro’s secret girlfriend.” She wiggles her brows at you, and you don’t bother denying it, just burying your head in your hands instead. “You guys should give me your numbers. I can give you Fushiguro intel.”

Riko immediately accepts Nobara’s phone. You wonder how Fushiguro will feel about all this—fond exasperation seems like the default emotion when it comes to his friends. But you give her your number, waving goodbye as she skips out the door, and lean back, thinking as Riko immediately starts to tease you about your boyfriend-not-boyfriend and how at least he has cool friends, even if he doesn’t have a personality.

You just keep looking out the window, trading snarky comments with Riko as it gets dark—earlier now, at the end of September.

“Are you ever gonna tell him?” Riko presses. “I don’t wanna watch you pine for the next six months.”

“We haven’t even known each other that long,” you insist, tracing patterns aimlessly on the tabletop. “And I don’t… I don’t know. I kind of want him to be the one to say something. Because if Nobara’s wrong and he isn’t actually into me, I could fuck everything up—”

“Isn’t actually into you?” Riko exclaims. “Oh. My god.” She waves a hand in front of your eyes. “Can you see? Do you need to get your vision checked? Do you—”

“Okay!” you laugh, swatting her hands away. “Message received, Jesus. Chaos goblin was right.”

“I wear that as a badge of honor,” Riko says solemnly.

Yeah. She can never meet Nobara’s housemate.

—

It’s a Wednesday, and you and Megumi are walking back to your place from the dog park. His car’s at your house, and the dogs have just had a very high-energy playdate that hopefully knocks them out for the night. The air is chilly and the sky dimming, and everything about it feels immaculately fall.

That’s where your conversation has ended up—the upcoming fall break, which is really just a Friday where neither of your campuses have classes. A three-day weekend really shouldn’t be called a break, you think. It’s misleading.

“You’re not going home?” he asks, and you sigh, shaking your head.

“Parents won’t be home. Not really much of a point.”

“We could—” He clears his throat. “We can hang out that weekend if you want. If you need the company.”

“You’re not going home either?” You glance over at him, a little puzzled. “Like—to Gojo’s?” His lips become a thin, tight line, and you wonder if you’ve somehow crossed some invisible boundary. You’re about to tell him he doesn’t have to talk about it if he doesn’t want to, despite being on the brink of insanity because he doesn’t tell you anything, ever.

But then he says, “He’s a bartender. Not around weekends, usually.”

“Ah.” Nobara mentioned that.

You did tell Megumi about running into Nobara in the coffee shop, and he immediately looked like you told him that you hung out with Gojo and saw all his baby pictures.

“She’s nice!” you insisted, and he sighed, raking a hand through his hair.

“She has no filter.”

“She’s fun.”

“She’s Kugisaki.” He shrugged. “Learn anything interesting?”

You told him about your conversation, minus the whole feelings thing, and he agreed that Riko and Toge Inumaki should never, ever meet. “For the good of the entire world,” he said solemnly. “People would die, Robin.”

Now, as the two of you turn onto your street, he glances at you like he’s trying to find something. And maybe it’s how tired you are, maybe it’s the way his eyes look so bright even though they’re so dark, maybe it’s that weird streetlight-night aura that makes everything feel a little bit not real, but you find yourself studying him right back, meeting his gaze without shame.

You want to know him, to be a part of his life in the way he’s become a fixture in yours. You want to meet his housemates. You want to meet his sister, his family. You want him to open the door and stop acting like you’re going to rob him or something the second you get inside. He knows you better than that, right?

He blinks, and you smirk. “I win.”

“Wh—that was not a staring contest.”

“It’s okay,” you tell him sympathetically. “You can’t be good at everything.”

His laugh—his real laugh—isn’t anything like you thought it’d be, but somehow it’s even better. It transforms his whole face, some blink-of-an-eye shift that lights up his eyes and makes everything about him brighter, louder.

You want to make him laugh like that again. As often as you can, really. Always.

“What?” he asks, staring at you, the light lingering in his eyes, some sort of afterimage of his joy.

“I just—I like your laugh.”

He stops, and you realize you’ve reached the end of your driveway. You drop Batman’s leash and let him run around the yard, and Megumi’s dogs follow suit, knowing better than to go far.

“I like your laugh, too,” he says, a crooked smile spreading across his face. And somehow that feels more like a confession than anything he’s ever said to you.

You’re very close.

He’s leaning in and you’re almost subconsciously reaching up to meet him, heels leaving the ground, and he’s still got the slightest curve of a smile lingering on his lips, and—

“Oh!” Shiro jumps on you from the side, tail wagging excitedly.

When you look back up at Megumi, laughter on your lips, his smile is gone, and he’s looking away, hands shoved in his pockets.

“Megumi—”

“That’s my cue,” he says, a forced-sounding chuckle punctuating the sentence. “I should, um. Get back.”

“Oh. Um, right. Yeah. Totally.” You’re kicking yourself now, feeling stupid, foolish. Did you just mess this whole thing up? Was it too soon? Did you read it wrong?

Megumi opens the back door of the car and lets the dogs hop in before circling around to the driver’s seat. “Robin…”

You look at him, trying to squash the hope adamant in your chest. And he looks like he doesn’t know what to say, for a moment, his lips parting and then closing and his eyes darting around before they finally land on you again. “Night,” he says quietly.

“Night, Megumi.” You lift a hand in a half-wave. “See you.”

Batman stares at the street long after the car has disappeared around the corner, and so do you.

“Fuck,” you murmur, and then again, louder, “fuck.”

—

Megumi’s texts over the next week are less frequent and more distant—at least, you think so. Maybe you’re getting too in your own head about it.

From then on, he’s pretty quiet. You wonder if you fucked up. You haven’t talked about it, the kiss. Almost-kiss. Your texts start getting fewer and far between, and in the chaos leading up to midterms you almost don’t notice. Almost.

Lots of almosts, lately.

you: still on for break?

Part of you expects him to go back on his word, say something came up. Especially when he takes a half hour to respond. He’s just busy, you tell yourself. Stop being dramatic.

megumi (cute vet): your place at 5, right?

“Oh,” you say aloud to nobody but Batman, smiling a little. Well, that’s good. You can ask him what’s been on his mind lately. He just seems… preoccupied.

When break rolls around, you spend Friday out with friends and Saturday catching up on schoolwork until Megumi comes over. You’ve hung out so often—you don’t know why you’re nervous.

And it seems contagious. He still shows up at your door and immediately picks up a conversation you left off on the last time you texted him, but he just seems slightly out of reach, somehow. You let it slide for about twenty minutes before you sit him down on the couch and ask.

“Okay. What’s going on with you?”

“What?” You don’t know if he’s playing dumb or just actually doesn’t realize he’s been acting strange.

“You’ve been… look. You’re acting weird. And I feel like we need to talk about whatever happened last week.”

The ensuing silence makes you want to take it back, or say something else, or do anything to create sound in the little bubble of waiting that's formed around the both of you. But you make yourself wait. Give him the space to find words.

“I guess… there is something I wanted to talk to you about,” he says suddenly, flatly, without looking at you. Your mouth slams shut and you find yourself drawing back a little, the remoteness of his voice almost physically distancing.

“Uh,” you say, like the eloquent person you are. “Okay?”

He swallows once, hard, and he looks at you with so much reluctance you almost wish he’d just look away. Your heart is twisting itself into knots.

“I think we should… take a step back.”

“What?” you whisper. “What do you mean?”

He sighs, raking a hand through his hair. “I mean—this is going… do you want a relationship?”

The question feels so abrupt you’re momentarily shocked into silence. But you know where he’s going.

He doesn’t want this. Doesn’t want—you. And it hurts more than you thought it would. It’s not so much a sharp stabbing sensation as a thousand needles worming their way into the crevices of your heart, slow and numerous and deadly.

Because you do want this. You want him.

“Yes,” you admit, quiet.

And he says, “I don’t.”

In general, you want to ask, or with me? But the words stall in your mouth, all blocked up and sticky, and you don’t say anything at all.

“You shouldn’t,” he murmurs, looking down. “Want that. With me, I mean. It’s…”

“It’s what?” you ask, hesitant. Another long, horrible silence.

“It’s never going to work,” he says, detached. Almost cold. “Us. This.” He’s still not looking at you.

“Let me ask you something, then,” you say, hating the unsteadiness of your voice. “Do you want it to?” Do you have feelings for me? You want to know if this is something he’s denying himself or if he really just doesn’t like you.

You know your own intelligence, though. You haven’t made up whatever this feeling is between you.

He doesn’t answer your question. Just murmurs, “You don’t know me.” And somehow it sounds like an accusation.

“You won’t let me!” you burst out, your voice louder than you intended. But all this caginess, this dancing around everything real, it’s got you at the end of your fuse. Shiro looks up and whines, Kuro leaping off the couch to stand in front of the both of you, curious. “I told you everything! I told you about my family and my friends and my classes and my hometown and my car problems and fucking Katie from Ohio, and you don’t say anything, Megumi, you won’t talk about your family, you won’t introduce me to your roommates. You won’t tell me about your band or your childhood, you took weeks just to give me your first name! What—are you just embarrassed of me? Do you think I’ll judge you? Do you not trust me? Is that it?”

“No,” he practically growls. “God, it’s just—you don’t understand—”

“You’re right, I don’t!” you exclaim, throwing your hands up. Batman paws at your leg, wondering why you’re shouting. “So help me understand. I know I’m not patient, but if you have shit you’re not ready to talk about, that’s fine. But just say that. Tell me to wait and I’ll wait. Just—give me something.”

He looks at you and he’s utterly unreadable, doors slammed shut.

“If you don’t want me in your life, just fucking say so,” you spit, but your voice is wavering now, uncomposed and only loud so it doesn’t shatter. If he really said it, said I don’t want you, you don’t know what you would do. It would be too sharp, too painful, too much.

“You don’t want this,” he says instead, averting his gaze. His tone is measured and even and emotionless.

“Don’t tell me what I want,” you seethe, but your words come out quiet. “If you really think I don’t want this, it’s because you won’t let me.” You’re whispering now, worried that if your voice raises any more, it’ll crack the paper-thin walls holding back your tears. “Megumi…”

“S’better this way.” He rubs the heel of his hand over his eyes, a messy movement that seems so at odds with the evenness of his tone. “I… I have to go, Robin.”

And the strange, unstable feelings of betrayal and confusion and hurt morph abruptly back into something hotter, something angrier. Because how dare he come here, spend fall break at your house, listen to you spill your heart onto the carpeted floor? How dare he run away, say he doesn’t want this, and then still call you that stupid, endearing fucking nickname?

“Yeah,” you say icily, glancing away with your arms crossed over your chest. “You do.”

You count to five, silently, before he moves, and you don’t look when he does. You blink tears out of your eyes when Kuro hesitates, nosing at your hip before following Megumi out the door.

It slams, hard, and Batman stays perched at the entry, tracking him as he walks out of your house, your life.

You don’t move for a very long time.

INTERMISSION // A REAL GOOD START

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO IS in deep, deep shit.

That is to say, he’s lost control of the situation, which is the one thing he does not allow to happen. Ever.

He can’t stop thinking about you.

Sleep is hard to come by in the days after he fucks everything up. He keeps thinking about how it could have gone if he’d just—if he’d done anything else. If he hadn’t run off after he almost kissed you, traitorous heart thumping in his chest even while his brain screamed danger!

You became part of his life so fast and so naturally he didn’t know it was too late until the damage had already been done. If he let himself kiss you, he would drown.

But he didn’t. He shut you down instead, on a Saturday night that could have been different.

He makes excuses when Gojo invites him over Sunday afternoon, going into work early just to avoid him. Even if Megumi’s perfected his poker face, nothing gets past Gojo. It’s like he has some sixth sense for when his pseudo-kids are in emotional turmoil. He’ll force Megumi into a talk therapy session (run by the most unqualified bartender of all time) and he’ll die of embarrassment on the couch.

So instead of talking to someone, anyone, he throws himself into his work, into rehearsals, into school. He goes to the clinic early and leaves late. His fingers are sore from plucking the same lines out on his bass until his housemates go to sleep. His eyes are dry from staring at his laptop until three in the morning. But it doesn’t matter what he does. He can’t. Stop. Thinking. About. You.

The thing about being in a band with all of his housemates is that there’s really no world in which they don’t notice something’s off. They’re spending even more time together lately than usual with the Battle of the Bands going on, and his only relief is that none of them say anything—at least not aloud. There are a number of raised brows and the occasional questioning shoulder nudge, but it seems Yuji, Ino, and Kirara know him well enough by now not to push. That, at least, he’s grateful for.

Nobara Kugisaki is a different story.

It’s a Monday when she storms into his living room—she didn’t even bother knocking on the front door. Shiro and Kuro run happily around her legs, and normally she’d be fawning over them, but today she looks furious. He can almost see smoke coming right out of her ears, eyes narrowed to dark slits as she stares him down.

“Fushiguro.”

“You,” he points out, “do not live here.”

“And you,” she seethes, “have one minute to explain to me what the fuck you did.” Before he can say anything, she waves her phone around in the air and says, “Hi, Nobara, I was just wondering if Fushiguro seems okay to you? Things kind of fell off and I would feel weird reaching out but I’m just a little worried.”

She’s quoting you.

Texts from you.

Shit.

Megumi knows that you and Kugisaki have met, but for some reason it just did not cross his mind that you might have exchanged contact information.

Control the situation.

He clears his throat, refusing to break eye contact. “Well, she said it,” he huffs, his usual toneless expression. “Things fell off.”

You still wanted to check on him. He treated you like that and you still…

“You broke up with her.”

“We weren’t together—”

“You broke up with her. Are you a fucking moron? This girl—” She jabs her finger into her phone screen so hard he’s surprised it doesn’t hurt— “is so fucking cool. And she puts up with you. And you like her. And now you’re acting all weird. So what, you go over there and tell her you can’t be together? What the fuck, dude? Why?”

What a loaded question that is.

“Because,” he grits out. “It wouldn’t have worked.”

“It wouldn’t have worked,” Kugisaki repeats flatly, walking over to the couch and making herself at home way too close to him, staring him down. He turns his head away. God, she is so persistent. She is so annoying.

“Yeah, congrats, your hearing works. Can you leave me alone?”

“Tell me you don’t have feelings for her and I will.”

“I—”

“Look at me and say it,” she snaps.

Megumi looks at her. “I don’t,” he mutters.

Kugisaki rolls her eyes so hard Megumi can’t believe they stay in her skull. “Okay, sure,” she says skeptically. He doesn’t like this tone, where it’s going. “So if I set her up with Toge, you wouldn’t mind?”

“I—” He clamps his mouth shut, hands curled into fists. “Kugisaki, that’s not—”

“That’s what I thought.” Normally she’d look smug, victorious after pulling one over on him, but this is worse. She just looks… concerned. He hates it.

“Look,” she sighs. “You’re not going to talk to me, so I’m not going to waste my time. But when you figure this out—and you will figure it out, or I might kill somebody, and it will be you—I’ll be all ears.” Her gaze might as well be pinning him to the wall with how fierce it is. Sometimes he lets himself forget how much of a force Kugisaki can be, and right now, she’s got that glint in her eyes that he hates, the one that makes him feel like she knows something he doesn’t. “Understood?”

“If I say understood, will you get out of my house?” he grumbles. She says nothing, just looking at him, and he thinks maybe she could win a staring contest with a fish. For a long, tense minute, he doesn’t say anything, and neither does she.

Whatever. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. She’ll forget about it eventually.

He sighs, tipping his head back against the wall.

“Understood.”

—

Things seem to happen around Megumi, to him, not because of him. The last conscious decision he made was to end things with you, and now he’s just a passive witness to his own life. Ino has something going on with Nobara’s housemate, Yuji’s scrambling to pass his midterms, Kirara bounces between their house and Hakari’s place faster than he can keep track of, and Megumi… he just exists in the periphery, goes through the motions.

He keeps finding his thumb hovering over your contact name. A dog with a silly name comes into the clinic and he wants to text you about it. He hears a song that reminds him of you (every song reminds him of you) and he wants to play it for you.

He wonders if Riko has him on a hit list yet.

A voice in the back of his head that sounds an awful lot like Kugisaki keeps repeating, Why?

Why did he end things? Why did he bite the bullet so fucking hard?

Because you deserve better than him, honestly.

You don’t know me, he told you. What he didn’t say, though—because you wouldn’t want me if you did.

Part of him knows that’s probably unfair to you—your words keep playing back in his mind and not even his music can drown them out. You won’t let me! But there are things he can’t imagine saying out loud. Explaining the way his dad disappeared, not even showing his face again when his mom died—eighteen-year-old Gojo from across the street on their doorstep, promising he and Tsumiki wouldn’t go into foster care. Bloody knuckles from fighting middle school bullies. Gojo and Geto trying to raise a bunch of kids when they were still kids themselves.

Gojo didn’t leave, but he should have. Megumi knows he threw away so much of his life for him, for Tsumiki. He could have done so much more. He could have done anything he wanted. But Megumi held him back.

Maybe he’s holding him back even now. He knows Gojo would deny it.

The point is, Megumi has shit to figure out for himself, and you shouldn’t have to sit by and watch him deal with it. That’s not fair to you. Yeah, he went about it wrong, but—but this is for the best. You can find someone who actually gives you everything you deserve, and he can… whatever.

Megumi’s band, Shibuya Incident, doesn’t perform this Friday at The Fix—Shoko and Geto’s bar. They’ve already made finals. Tonight will just decide who their opponents are. But even if he’s not up there playing, the Battle of the Bands is a welcome distraction. Even if Ino’s just making lovesick puppy eyes at the stage the whole time and Yuji won’t shut up about wanting Taco Bell. Megumi lets himself get a little lost in the music, and Kugisaki’s band is good, really. He votes for them as soon as the digital form opens and then vows to never tell her.

They should win, but Black Flash takes it again. Kasumi Miwa and Maki’s sister and their friends. They won the whole thing last year. Great, Megumi thinks.

The night comes and goes, and he dodges Gojo on his way out of the bar despite knowing he’ll get a text about it later. And then they’re all piled into Yuji’s car on the way to get his beloved Taco Bell, and he’s just about convinced he’s done with feeling anything at all when Kirara screams.

For a second, there’s nothing at all.

And then the world comes back to life around him in a shock of colors and sounds and a lot of cuss words, mostly coming out of his own mouth.

“Holy shit!” Yuji shouts, yanking the wheel hard to the right, and Megumi can barely process the sight of the white car barreling toward them before there’s crunching metal and shattering glass, and it’s like he feels the collision as an aftershock, shaking all his bones back into place. The airbags go off and he’s blind, wind knocked clean from his lungs, and then he’s moving—no, he moves. No more passivity. This is real.

“Everybody out,” he demands, wrenching the passenger door open and taking in the sight of the crash. Smoke is billowing from the hood of Yuji’s car, the vacant passenger side of the other one entirely smashed in. “Everyone okay?”

Yuji circles around the back of the car and Megumi clocks immediately that he’s holding his wrist weird, wrong. “Yuji—”

“Ino, come on—hey. Hey. Ino.”

Kirara’s got one knee on the edge of the backseat and one hand braced on the roof of the car, and Ino is not making any move to get out.

Sirens. Who called the cops?

“Kirara?” Yuji asks, moving to help her, but she holds up a hand and looks back over her shoulder.

“Don’t. I got it. We’re fine. Just—bad memories, I think.”

Megumi knows Ino hates driving. He doesn’t know why, but he can guess. So he doesn’t push it. Kirara’s the psych major, after all. And probably the one with the most emotional intelligence and any semblance of tact. She’s got him.

He’s about to turn to Yuji when somebody stumbles out of the other car. The car that had been driving in the wrong lane,directly toward them. If Yuji hadn’t reacted so quickly, they’d all be dead.

“What the fuck,” he hisses.

It’s his cousin.

“What,” he says, louder, “the fuck? Naoya!” He storms over and grabs Naoya by the front of his shirt—his breath reeks of alcohol, and he’s laughing, like he didn’t just almost commit vehicular manslaughter. “What the hell, man? What’s wrong with you? Are you—”

He hears… screaming?

But not from here. Not in person. It’s…

Megumi looks at the cracked phone on the ground, having been flung straight through Naoya's shattered windshield. He looks at his shitbag cousin, who’s half tipping-over, legs like jelly under him.

“Naoya,” he growls. “Who. Is. That?”

“Hah,” he slurs. “Mm. My ex! My ex. She is… she is.”

He’s not making sense, but Megumi might get back into Yuji’s car and drive it into his cousin on purpose. Naoya was dating this girl—Megumi knows her. She's friends with Yuji. Some brand of art major, he’s pretty sure, and she's nice, way too good for him. And then what, she finally gets away and he still torments her? By drunk calling her from the car, letting her listen as he crashes? The blood in Megumi’s veins might as well be venom.

He shoves Naoya back with a scoff, letting him stumble over himself, and grabs the broken phone off the ground. “Hey,” he says, and she’s still screaming, this poor fucking girl— “Hey! Hey. Calm down. It’s—hello?”

“Naoya? What the fuck, Naoya—”

She’s definitely talking through tears, maybe angry, maybe scared.

“Not Naoya,” Megumi sighs. “Uh, this is Fushiguro.” She’s quieting a little on the other end, and he hears a guy’s voice trying to talk her down. “Listen. Naoya’s fine. Just… drunk. And an asshole. Are you okay?”

After that, the entire night is a blur.

He talks down Naoya’s traumatized ex-girlfriend on the phone, Ino’s girlfriend shows up and calms him down, and then Gojo and Nanami and Shoko are there and Hakari shows up and Gojo’s dragging Megumi to the ER with Yuji to get his wrist checked out and it’s sprained and Tsumiki is running into the waiting room and hugging the life out of him and Maki calls and Naoya’s got a DUI and then finally, finally they’re home. Megumi can barely keep his eyes open. He doesn't know what time it is.

He sleeps harder than he has in months.

—

Megumi is so fucking exhausted that when his phone starts buzzing the next morning at the kitchen table, he doesn’t actually think it’s real for a second.

INCOMING CALL: SIDEKICK

He’s hallucinating. Sleep deprivation, or something. Or maybe he actually got a concussion in that car crash and now he’s seeing things that aren’t real. That’s the only explanation.

That or you butt-dialed.

He doesn’t bother explaining himself to the others as he stands up and retreats to the hallway, almost letting the phone ring out before steeling himself and swiping to accept the call.

“Hey?”

He’s never greeted you like that before. It sounds so fake. He usually picks up the phone and just starts talking about whatever you texted him, or whatever weird thing he saw that he has to tell you about. Not hey. Hey is for people he doesn’t know. Doesn’t care about.

“Um. Hey.” It is stupid, what just the sound of your voice over the phone does to him. “I just saw this article about a car crash? Are you—”

“I’m fine,” he says, too fast, too sharp. Stop it. “Sorry. I’m—yeah. We’re all fine.”

You clear your throat on the other end of the phone. “Okay. That’s—that’s good. I just… wanted to make sure.”

He pushed you out, and you texted Kugisaki to ask if he was alright.

He pushed you out, and you’re calling to make sure he’s okay.

I’m not, he wants to say. I fucked up. I fucked this up.

I miss you.

“Thank you,” he murmurs. “I… appreciate that.”

Maybe he can still salvage this. Still be friends with you, at least. But that’s a slippery slope, isn’t it? He’ll just hurt you again. But…

“It was my cousin,” he offers, not really knowing why he’s saying it. Maybe as a peace offering. He didn’t tell you things before, important things. Maybe he can start now. “Drunk. On the phone with his ex.”

“Oh,” you say. You sound surprised, but Megumi isn’t sure if you’re more shocked about his words or the fact that he gave them to you. “That’s… awful.”

“Yeah,” Megumi breathes. “Um. Yeah, he’s taken care of now.”

“Good. That’s good.” A dog starts barking, and Megumi feels his lips twitch up into an almost-smile.

“There he goes,” he murmurs. You laugh, and he’s actually smiling, now.

“There he goes,” you say fondly. “I should… go calm him down. I’ll…”

“Yeah, yeah, go,” he says, not sure how to end this. “Um, good… luck.” Stupid. That was so fucking stupid.

“Thanks. Bye, Fushiguro.”

“Bye, Robin,” he says, but the line’s already gone dead.

—

Megumi sees you three times in the month of November, and every time he feels ten times closer to a train wreck.

It snows in November, because it’s stupid and cold and winter comes early here, and there are prints leading toward the dog park. Imprints of dog paws and boots, side by side, and he’s a vet student. He knows what size dog those prints mean. He knows exactly who it is.

He lets Shiro and Kuro tug him all the way to the dog park, and he doesn’t even remember letting himself through the gate. He just knows that you see him right after Kuro starts panting excitedly, and you freeze.

He half-waves in the most pathetic, lame response ever known to mankind.

“Robin,” he says, the nickname falling off his tongue like nothing ever changed.

“Fushiguro.” You smile, hesitant, and he wishes it didn’t feel like a needle that you used his last name. He walks over to you—just following the dogs, he tells himself, that’s natural. Batman almost knocks him over in his excitement.

Megumi can’t not smile at a dog. That would just make him a bad vet, wouldn’t it?

“Hey, bud,” he says, crouching down to pet him. “Yeah, I missed you too.” When he looks back up, your gaze is a little distant, and he closes his eyes for a second, collecting himself. He pushes back to his feet and turns to you.

“Did you know I’d be…” You don’t finish the sentence, but he knows what you mean.

“I… snowprints,” he says, shrugging. It seems to be enough of an answer for you.

“Snowprints,” you echo. “We found you with tracks too, the first time. Didn’t we, Batman?” Like he understands, Batman slaps his tail against the ground and flicks his ears forward and back. Yep. Sure did.

He scrambles for something to say in the silence—small talk is the bane of his existence, but is it ever small talk when it’s you?

Small talk doesn’t matter.

Everything you say matters.

“So. They teach you how to keep plants alive yet?” he asks, and has to fight not to physically cringe after he says it. God, it’s like he never learned how to talk. But you laugh, which he counts as a win.

“No, but someone is significantly less barky, so thank you for that.”

He has you for five minutes before your phone rings, and you chuckle, showing him the screen.

“Ah,” he says. Riko. He doesn’t object when you go, slipping out through the gate with your phone pressed to your ear, because he doesn’t have the right.

But you text first, later.

sidekick: it was good to see you sidekick: and the dogs. obviously

“Look at that,” he mutters to Kuro, whose nose is nearly touching his phone screen. “You’re my good luck charm.”

megumi: you too, sidekick. megumi: and batman. obviously.

The second time, you’re crossing paths in the coffee shop, both of you on your way to other places. It’s brief and stilted and still leaves him feeling like a mess.

“Black?” you ask, nodding at his coffee. You’ve got a hat tugged haphazardly over your head to ward off the persistent snowflakes outside, and it’s—you’re cute. Fuck.

He huffs a laugh, looking down at the sleet-stained floor just to avoid staring at you and your cold-flushed cheeks. “What else?”

“Vanilla latte,” he says, glancing at your cup, because he wants you to know he remembers. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but he thinks you look pleasantly surprised.

The third time, you don’t see him.

He knew you had friends at JU, but he’s never seen you around campus before. You’re with the guy with the blue hair, always pulled up into two knots on the top of his head—Hajime, maybe?

You throw your head back and laugh at something he says, and it’s like—fuck. Laughter shouldn’t sound that poetic.

And he knows he can’t lie to himself anymore.

It’s time to talk.

Kirara would probably kick his ass the second he told her anything. Ino’s busy with his new girlfriend, Yuji’s an idiot, Kugisaki is… well, she’s Kugisaki, and he can’t handle that lecture right now. And he sure as hell isn’t gonna talk to Gojo.

Which means he only has one option.

When he knocks on the door of Tsumiki’s apartment, she takes one look at him and sighs, long-suffering.

“You finally ready to talk?”

This was probably a grave miscalculation. If Kirara would kick his ass for the way he treated you, Tsumiki might actually hang him from his ankles out the window and leave him to die. But not before he apologizes to you. So at least he’s got time.

He walks in without responding and ignores her invitation to sit, pacing the kitchen instead in an uncharacteristic show of nerves. “I fucked up.”

“Yeah, I gathered,” Tsumiki says dryly, but she hops up onto the counter and looks at him, patient as ever. Tell me, she doesn’t say, but Megumi hears it anyway.

“I think I might be in love.”

—

To her credit, Tsumiki is dead silent for the entirety of Megumi’s rambling explanation. He’s a little hoarse by the end of it—honestly, he never talks like this. He feels like he just dumped his heart onto his sister’s kitchen floor and is awaiting some sort of judgement.

“Also, I think she hates me,” he finishes, finally sinking into a chair at the kitchen table. He tilts his head back and stares at the popcorn ceiling. “And I deserve it.”

For a beat, Tsumiki is silent. And then she says, “You wrote a song about her.”

He snaps his gaze to her so aggressively it hurts his neck. “What?”

She rolls her eyes and pulls something up on her phone, sliding up the volume and pressing play. She scrolls to some random point in the song, and Ino’s voice sings, “She’s got me up late starin’ at my phone, waitin’ for a text, feelin’ all alone.”

“Tsumiki—”

She turns it up, and Megumi looks anywhere but at his sister. There are plants everywhere, warm light filtering in through the windows onto herbs on the kitchen windowsill and succulents in the living room and god, everything reminds him of you.

“And she don’t even know what she’s doin’ to me, all my hopes are high-strung and she’s just gonna leave, no!”

“Okay! Okay, stop, I get it,” he huffs, dragging the heel of his palm down his face and trying to ignore her smug smile. “How did you even know?” he mumbles. “I’m not on the credits.”

“I know you,” she says dryly. “I also know Ino, and his lyrics are not that… I don’t know, poetically nihilistic.”

“I really can’t tell if you’re trying to insult or compliment me right now,” he says, sighing.

“Also,” Tsumiki says pointedly, “because this is what you do, Gumi.” He gives her a quizzical look in lieu of a response. “When people get close to you, you lash out and then you run away.” She hops off the counter and crosses the room to the table, pulling out a chair across from Megumi.

“No, I don’t,” he grumbles, tilting his chair away on its back legs and inadvertently proving her point.

She just looks at him until he relents, burying his face in his hands.

“I don’t think it’s unprecedented,” Tsumiki says gently, “considering the way we grew up. But you can’t keep shutting down good things, Gumi. You wouldn’t even be friends with Itadori and Kugisaki if they hadn’t forced their way past your bullshit. And you love them, right? They’re great. You know they’re not gonna hurt you.”

“Nobody knows that,” he huffs. “College will end and we’ll all go our separate ways and I’ll never hear from—”

“Nope,” Tsumiki says loudly, cutting him off. “Okay. My turn to talk. Shut up.” She glares at him, planting her elbows on the table. He feels stripped raw. “The whole pushing-people-away-before-I-get-hurt thing? You need to stop. You cannot look me in the eyes right now and tell me you don’t have people who would die for you, Gumi.”

He opens his mouth to object, but she swipes a hand through the air, silencing him. “I’m not done.” Megumi has only seen his sister like this a few times in his life, and he is fairly certain that if he tries to interrupt her again he might not leave this apartment alive.

“You have me. You have Gojo. You have Geto and Shoko and Nanami. You have all of your housemates, and Kugisaki, and probably all of her housemates too,” she says. “And none of us are going anywhere, okay? No walking out on the kids, no betrayal, no kicking you to the curb. So you need to get your head out of your ass, Megumi.”

Well.

“Look. It’s a defense mechanism. I get that,” she says, a little gentler now. “But you are not doing yourself any favors. And this girl? You’re in love with her, Gumi. That means she’s pretty special, okay? Because I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you look twice at a girl in your whole life. And I know she doesn’t deserve this, just as much as you know. So you have two choices.”

Megumi doesn’t think he’s going to like either of the two choices.

Tsumiki leans back in her chair, shrugging. “You can let her move on without you and keep screwing yourself over, or you can go tell her you fucked up and ask her to forgive you.”

He’s never liked asking for things. Tries to avoid it, actually. But he’s finding there are a lot of rules he’s willing to break when it comes to you.

“But if you’re going to ask this girl to step back into your life, you need to make sure you’re ready for it,” his sister says firmly. “You need to have your shit together. You need to know how you feel.” She pauses, catching his gaze, and once she has it she might as well be holding his face in her hands. He can’t look away, not when she’s looking at him this intently, like she’s waiting for an answer she already knows. “So. How do you feel?”

When he doesn’t answer right away, Tsumiki knocks on the table, like a dismissal. “Okay. You think about that, and when you know—you know.” She looks at him for a long moment after he stands up, those eternal curled locks of hair falling into her face, and he’s suddenly hit with a wave of affection, of gratitude, so strong he can barely stand it. Yeah, so he doesn’t have a mom. And fuck his dad. But Tsumiki—thank god he has his sister.

“Miki,” he says, before he can stop himself. “Uh—thank you. I…” He swallows once, hard. “Love you.”

Her smile is slow but wide, the kind that makes her eyes narrow just a little. “I love you too,” she says softly, and then she winks. “Hey, those words? That’s a real good start.”

—

When Megumi sees you next, he’s going to be ready. Just like Tsumiki said. He needs to know how he feels. So he thinks, and he thinks, and he thinks.

There’s a notebook in the bottom drawer of his desk, scrawled song lyrics he’ll never let anyone see. He fills page after page after page trying to figure out what’s going on in his head, in his heart, how he can make it make sense. Fit together like two hands, two sets of prints in the snow. He tries to imagine what he’ll say to you, how you’ll react, but every word he thinks of falls short, everything just sounds stupid in the face of how much you deserve and how little he can give.

He keeps thinking.

It’s December 19, Kugisaki’s Christmas party before everyone parts ways for break.

Megumi won’t admit it, but he’s having a good time. He brought the dogs, and he and Yuji have been bouncing around talking to their friends. Tsumiki’s here too, and when he loses track of Yuji he makes his way over to her, leaning silently against the wall.

“They’re cute,” she says fondly, and he follows her gaze to the hall—Ino is standing there with his girlfriend, Skipper, and there’s mistletoe hanging right above them. No doubt Kugisaki’s doing. Skipper laughs and pecks Ino on the lips before he says something and drags her down the hall, and then Maki and Yuta glance up at the mistletoe, look at each other in mutual horror, and pointedly do not walk beneath it. They’re finally together, but they wouldn’t be caught dead kissing in front of other people.

And he wonders what you’d do, if you were here standing under it with him.

He doesn’t have to say anything. Tsumiki reads him like a book.

It’s like this:

Megumi is very well-acquainted with loss. But he’s not sure he can handle this one.

He let his own insecurities ruin a good thing, a bright thing. He shut it down before it could start. He struck first and he fucking regrets it.

That’s it, then. Pity party over. Delusions down the drain. It’s time to get over himself, to get real.

Because the truth of it is that he doesn’t give a shit about his birthday, about Christmas, about the trees and the lights and the stupid fucking carols, if you’re not there with him.

Oh, he thinks. His sister has the audacity to smirk.

He stays, because this is Kugisaki’s party and despite everything, he does love her. He’s getting better about that, about acknowledging it—he has people who care about him, and he has people he cares about.

But when he heads out just a little bit early, after whispering your name in Kugisaki’s ear, she nearly slaps him for not going sooner.

“Shiro, Kuro,” he calls, heading for the door. “C’mon. We’ve got somewhere to be.”

PART II // TO TRYING

FOR A WEEK after Megumi walks out your front door, you drown in self-pity like the flower you killed in September with too much water. 

And then you open your computer and type his name into the search engine with jujutsu university and band. It’s not hard to find—one of the first results is some Instagram advertisement about a Battle of the Bands at JU, from a couple of weeks ago. One of them’s got to be his. You could just ask Nobara, but—it feels weird, somehow. Wrong. Like you’re encroaching on part of his life that he so clearly doesn’t want you to be a part of.

You can’t helping asking her to check on him, though. You just—it’s probably stupid, but you want him to be okay. Not that you think him pseudo-dumping you would tear him up or anything. But there’s a not insignificant part of you that doesn’t believe what he said that day. Part of you that knows a defense mechanism when you see one.

The thing is, you could’ve asked your friends about him. Hajime goes to JU. He might know Megumi, and if not he could’ve found out. But you wanted this for yourself, this mystery of earning his first name and his history and his heart, except you thought you’d gotten two of the three and it turns out he’ll only ever give you one.

You start typing in the bands one by one, figuring eventually one of them has to be his. A search for Black Flash turns up an artist image of a group of people surrounding a grinning girl with bright blue hair. No Megumi, though.

Shibuya Incident, then. You key it into Spotify and rub your eyes when the artist profile comes up, like you’re maybe seeing it wrong. No. It’s him.

There’s a dark-haired girl who must be Kirara leaning on a familiar-looking guy with pink hair, face split open in a smile. Front and center is a brown-eyed boy with a beanie tugged lopsided over his hair. And in the back, standing, looking characteristically bored, is Megumi Fushiguro.

Why are you doing this? You shouldn’t be doing this.

But you’re scrolling before you know it. Most popular songs. They have an EP called Over Duress. And they have a single—released recently, it looks like.

Strike First.

You only allow yourself one second of hesitation before you press play.

“Catch feels real quick,” a voice sings—Ino, must be. “And they go real deep.” You can’t help paying attention the bassline. It’s steady, constant, holding the rest of the band together as Ino sings. The lyrics almost sink into the background until the chorus snags your attention, and you have to go back and replay it.

“I can hear the heartbreak saying, ooh, I’m on my way. So you strike first, strike first ‘cause she’s not gonna stay.”

Oh.

You understand, then, even if his name isn’t listed in the writing credits, even if you have no proof. Megumi wrote this song. You can hear him in the unfamiliar voice of the lead singer. You can feel him in the pattern of the words. It’s his.

He didn’t want you to leave, so he left first. Is that it?

You understand, but it’s not enough. Abruptly, you’re just—you’re angry. What a stupid reason to let something fall apart. You don’t owe him patience. If he’s not ready to commit, that’s not your problem, it’s his. He needs to figure himself out, learn to let people in, and you can’t just sit here and wait for him to do it. It’s not your responsibility.

It’s not.

There’s some sort of grim satisfaction in knowing that there’s nothing else you could have done.

“Forget that,” you mutter, closing out of Spotify and intending to just toss your laptop on the bed. Case closed. Moving on.

But something in your search results catches your eye first.

JU senior issued DUI after crash on 34th and Olson Blvd Friday night

Okay. So. Nothing to do with Megumi, right? Except it’s showing up in your search of his name. You click on the article, heart suddenly pounding.

Jujutsu University Campus Police responded to an emergency call at 11:41 last night after an automobile collision on 34th Street and Olson Boulevard, four blocks from the popular campus live music bar, The Fix.

“No,” you breathe. “What the fuck?” You keep skimming, everything in you loosening up when it says nobody was seriously hurt, but it just—whose car is that, Yuji’s? It’s bright red. Not Megumi’s.

You’re not really thinking when you make the call. It rings for so long, and right as you’re about to give up, he’s there on the other end of the line, and you realize you have no idea what you’re supposed to say.

“Hey?”

“Um. Hey.” You sound more breathless than you should, just sitting here on your bed with your laptop open to a student news publication. You don’t wait for him to ask why the hell you’re calling, barreling on before you lose your nerve. “I just saw this article about a car crash? Are you o—”

“I’m fine,” he says quickly. Defensively. Oh.

Right. This is overstepping, probably. He doesn’t need you checking up on him. You should’ve just texted Nobara. You should’ve just not read the article, actually, shouldn’t have typed his name into your search engine. He probably thinks you’re a creep who put Google alerts on for his name or something. You don’t have any real excuse for how you stumbled across this fucking article.

But then he says, “Sorry. I’m—yeah. We’re all fine.”

Thank god, you think. But you just clear your throat a little and say, “Okay. That’s—that’s good. I just… wanted to make sure.”

The silence is so long you think for a moment that he’s hung up on you. But then, very quietly, he says, “Thank you. I… appreciate that.”

You don’t really know where to go from here. He’s fine. Of course he’s fine. Why the hell did you call him in the first place? It’s not like he’s going to offer you any information. Because he doesn’t tell you anything, which was the whole problem in the first place—

“It was my cousin.”

You blink.

“Drunk. On the phone with his ex.”

“Oh,” you say, more of a surprised noise slipping out before you can bite it down. It’s less shock at the actual words than the fact that he’s giving you something, that he’s offering you this. You scroll down in the article. Naoya Zenin. The senior in the headline who got a DUI. “That’s… awful.”

“Yeah,” Megumi breathes. “Um. Yeah, he’s taken care of now.”

“Good. That’s good.”

Batman chooses this moment to start barking at absolutely nothing out the window. He actually has been a lot better about that recently, but it’s like it’s his mission today to embarrass you on the phone with the guy who dumped-not-dumped you.

“There he goes,” Megumi says lightly, and you laugh a little, because he sounds almost fond when he says it.

“There he goes,” you echo. “I should… go calm him down. I’ll…” What? You’ll what? See you around? No you won’t. Talk to you later? Unlikely.

“Yeah, yeah, go,” he says. “Um, good… luck.” With what? Batman? Life?

“Thanks. Bye, Fushiguro.”

You slam your finger down on the red button before he can reply.

You don’t want to know what he says. Your name, or sidekick, or Robin, or nothing at all.

—

You try to forget about him, but it’s hard.

Every time your phone buzzes with a message from your friends, classmates, family, your heart jumps, foolishly thinking it might be him. You follow Batman to the dog park without making the conscious decision to, and berate yourself when you realize, lead him off in another direction. Your rosemary plant dies and you hear him in your head, teasing you—isn’t the environment your whole career? Better shape up, sidekick.

Riko prepares a half-hour long PowerPoint presentation about all the reasons he didn’t deserve you in the first place. She must’ve told your roommate, too, because Suko calls you in the middle of the night, Japan time, just to check in.

A week into November, it’s dulled a little bit, the hurt. You’re still startled when he shows up at the dog park, but… not unpleasantly so.

“Snowprints,” he says when you ask if he knew you were here. One word, but it means more to you. Snowprints means he knew what he was walking into, and he came anyway. Snowprints means he saw a chance and followed it to you on purpose.

That’s progress, isn’t it?

You see him at the coffee shop and he remembers your order. It shouldn’t mean anything, but it does. Snowprints and a vanilla latte.

He said he didn’t want this, but you just… don’t believe him.

But you’re not waiting for him. If the cute guy from ecology asked you out tomorrow, you’d say yes. This boy isn’t dictating your life while he figures himself out.

You hope he does figure himself out. But you won’t hold on to scraps.

And you do start to forget, a little. The cute guy in your ecology class does not ask you out, but your friends and your studies and your needy dog are enough of a distraction that Megumi isn’t in the front of your mind all the time. The semester is flying by, and you make an effort to keep in touch with Nobara despite everything—she really is fun.

It’s approaching break before you know it, and you’re going home for the holidays soon, though you’ll probably be back before the new year because Setsuko needs a ride. Man, you’re excited to have a roommate again.

Your suitcase is half-packed, poorly folded clothes covering the whole of your bedspread in some futile attempt at organization. Christmas is in six days—well, five, you think idly, glancing at the clock. Half past midnight. You should go to sleep, but your bed is covered in clothes and you need to finish packing for your drive home in two days.

“Hey, no,” you lecture as Batman sniffs at a shirtsleeve dangling over the side of the bed. You can tell he’s considering making the leap and taking a nap on top of all your freshly laundered clothes. “No. Stay down.”

You push to your feet, yawning, and then Batman freezes in place, his ears perking up and forward like he hears something.

“What’s up?” you mutter, and then his head snaps toward the door. “Dude, what? It’s past midnight—”

The doorbell rings.

“The shit,” you mutter, trudging to the front door. Irrationally you wonder if your roommate’s home early, but that’s stupid—she’d have needed a ride from the airport, and she has a key.

You don’t know what you expect when you nudge Batman aside and open the door into the cold night, barely holding him back from the cracked door with your leg.

Oh.

You’re face to face with Megumi Fushiguro, and your heart does a diving, spinning leap into the bottom of your stomach.

His lips are slightly parted like he stopped speaking mid-word, eyes wild with urgency, and you suddenly wonder if he’s in trouble, if something’s really wrong. Snow peppers his dark hair, the porch light bouncing off the white specks and making him look like he’s sparkling.

You can’t find any words. None at all, nothing that can actually articulate the shock and confusion and barely-squashed hope. What is happening?

“Robin,” he says. And then he says your name, your real name, and—it’s like a dam breaks.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m so fucking sorry. I—I’ve had some time to think and I really, really messed up and I don’t know how I’m ever going to make it up to you but I have to try to explain, I—it’s me, it was all me, all my fault, you’re amazing and I’m insecure and I let that get in the way of something really fucking good and that was stupid, so stupid, and I like being with you and I like knowing you and I want you to meet my friends and my weird messed-up family and I want you to know me, I want to let you know me, and I’m sorry I didn’t just because I got too in my own head about it, about you. You take up so much headspace it’s insane and I haven’t stopped thinking about you since—since, I don’t know, since I fucking met you, and I—”

The multi-colored Christmas lights strung between the pillars of your front step cast colors and shadows over him as he rambles, his cheeks red from the cold and maybe something else, and you can’t take it, watching him like this, desperate.

“Fushiguro.”

But he’s on a roll now, the words spilling from him like they’ve been building up in the hollow space of his throat for years, and he’s not stopping now. You’re not sure he even hears you over the rapid, panicked lilting of his own confession.

“You should turn around right now, slam the door in my face, I get it, I deserve that, and I don’t have any excuse that matters, but I realized how important you’d become and that scared me more than anything I’d ever felt because that meant I could lose you, you could leave—”

“Fushiguro.”

“And it’s—I fell in love with you months ago,” he breathes. “I’m sorry, and I love you, I’m so in love with you, and I—”

“Megumi.”

He finally stops, panting, every part of him frenzied and undone. His lips are still parted around a word he hasn’t said, freeze frame, the remote in your hands. “Will you just come inside?”

The silent second feels like ages, years, maybe, and you can see the disbelief in his irises, like he’s afraid to trust this, afraid to hope.

“No,” he breathes suddenly, and something comes dangerously close to cracking in your heart. Did he come here, say all this, only to leave you again?

“I—”

“No, because I brought the dogs and they’re sitting in the back of my car right now,” he explains, sheepish. An unbelieving, slightly hysterical laughter bubbles up out of you, warm and surprising and not at all unpleasant.

You grab Megumi by the dark fabric of his coat and yank him toward you, pressing your lips to his cold ones, hand slipping up to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck. It’s like your warmth leeches into him limb by limb, slowly unfreezing him both from the cold and the frantic fear that you’d turn him away again, and it’s below freezing but he’s melting beneath your touch, and you missed him so, so much.

You pull back, your breath fogging in the air like an echo. “You idiot,” you tell him. “Go get them, I want to see them.” You cross your arms over your chest, leaning on the doorjamb and finally processing how cold it is out here. It’s like it’s sinking right into your bones. “And then get your ass inside.”

He smiles breathlessly, standing still for a moment, and then it’s like he just snaps into action, like he’s afraid you’ll change your mind if he waits another second. The dogs run up the path before he does, and you let them barrel into you and then have their little reunion with Batman while Megumi catches up.

“Come sit down,” you tell him, shutting the door and closing out the cold air. “And tell me more.”

It’s almost like nothing ever changed.

You talk for hours in the lamp-lit living room, surrounded by three tired dogs and a record spinning in the corner. But this time, Megumi talks more than you’ve ever heard him talk. He tells you everything.

How he pushed you away and justified it to himself by saying you deserved better, when really you deserved the truth. How his dad left and his mom died young and Gojo was barely legal when he took him in. How he had a lot of issues with his self-worth growing up, and even now, and how it took him a very long time to accept that people care about him. How it was Tsumiki's idea to get the dogs, because after their mom died he couldn't stop having nightmares. How he wanted to call you every day and then he finally cracked and he went to Tsumiki and she psychoanalyzed him at the kitchen table and he sorted out all his shit so he could show up here like an absolute nuisance and beg you to give him another chance.

“That’s all I wanted, you know,” you tell him, the both of you on the floor, leaning against Shiro and Kuro as they sleep. Batman’s made himself comfortable on the couch, occasionally using his vantage point to lick you right in the face. “You, being honest. You didn’t have to tell me about your parents, y’know, if you didn’t want to. But just…”

“I know that now,” he murmurs sheepishly. “I’m sorry. Really. But I’m trying to get over the whole self-sabotage thing. Trying to… try. In general. With people.”

And he means it. Because the only time Megumi has ever lied to you was the day he told you he didn’t want this, and you knew even then that it wasn’t true. He might try to be all stoic and poker-faced, but he’s not a very good liar. You smile. “That’s a good start.”

You’re facing each other, knees touching, and you reach out, hand palm-up between you. He glances at you before he makes any move, like he’s asking—are you sure? But then he laces his fingers through yours. His hands are way bigger than yours, fingers folding over your own, warm and encompassing. Something about it feels very right.

“So I was wondering,” he starts, and this new side of him that is so hesitant but also hopeful is maybe the most endearing thing you’ve ever seen. You squeeze his hand a little, and that seems to embolden him enough to ask whatever it is waiting on the tip of his tongue. “Uh, would you… want to meet my housemates?”

—

“They’re crazy,” Megumi says, standing outside his house with you the next day. “I mean it. I don’t know how to prepare you for—”

“Megumi,” you cut him off, laughing. “No disclaimers. I’m friends with Riko, remember?” This actually seems to be an effective argument, because he smiles a little, putting his hand on the door.

“Yeah, okay. That’s fair.”

You are tackled the second you cross the threshold.

“Hi!” someone practically shouts in your ear, full-on bear-hugging you as you stumble back, laughing.

“Oh my god,” Megumi groans. “Itadori—”

“Sorry!” he yelps, pulling back and awkwardly offering a hand like he didn’t just squeeze the living daylights out of you. “I’m Yuji. Kugisaki’s told me all about you and Fushiguro said—”

“Itadori,” he says again. You immediately understand what Megumi meant. This boy is legitimately no different than the two dogs who have come to crowd around your legs. Actually, Shiro and Kuro have greeted you significantly more calmly than Yuji has. It’d be difficult not to like him, you think.

“No, you’re fine,” you laugh him off, using the handshake to pull him back in. “You’re fun. I like you.” Yuji grins victoriously at Megumi and lets you go, and you finally move out of the entryway and into the familiar living space.

“Ino,” you say, pointing at the boy in a beanie, and then shift to the girl crouched in front of the TV, rummaging through a bunch of games. “Kirara.”

The conspiratorial smirk Kirara gives you—along with the way the Wii games are scattered all around her like a personal hurricane—makes you think she might not actually be the long-suffering order in a house full of chaos. More likely, she and Ino and Yuji are only kept in check by Megumi’s neat freak tendencies and blunt nature.

“Hey.” Ino grins. “Okay, I gotta ask, is your dog actually named Batman? Because that’s awesome.”

“She’s been here for two seconds,” Megumi chides, but you nod happily. You are very proud of your dog’s stupid name.

“Well, I approve,” Ino shrugs, patting the space next to him on the couch.

And it feels natural, the way you fall into place with the rest of them. For all Megumi pretends they drive him insane, it’s obvious he loves his friends, and he seems relaxed around them even as you waste away the afternoon chatting and arguing and getting your ass kicked in Mario Kart (specifically by Kirara, whose undefeated record pisses off all the boys but makes you even fonder of her).

By the time night falls, you feel like you’ve been friends with all of them for years. You learn all about the band—Megumi didn’t tell you that they won the Battle of the Bands, which you plan to give him shit for later. They ask you about your school and friends and seem to actually, genuinely want to meet them.

You go home for Christmas, getting your annual few rare days of quality family time, but Megumi sends you photos from Gojo’s with Tsumiki and the dogs. You respond with a picture of Batman in a Santa hat.

megumi: they really want to meet you when you get back. if you want.

A smile splits across your face before you can stop it. Because this is exactly what you wanted—for Megumi to want you to meet his family, to know that part of his life.

“What are you smiling about?” your dad asks from the couch, and your blush must be answer enough, because he turns to your mom with a raised brow and mouths boy. You shove your phone in your pocket. You weren’t prepared for the interrogation, but it’s too late now.

The thing is, if your family had asked you if you were seeing anyone even last week, you’d have nothing to say. And maybe you shouldn’t dump all this information on them when it’s still so fresh, so new.

But something tells you this is going to last. He wants you to meet Tsumiki, to meet Gojo. You won’t keep him from your family if he doesn’t keep you from his. Plus, your parents leave on another trip in two days. You’re not sure when else you’ll get the chance to tell them this in person.

“So,” you say, before they can start grilling you. “His name is Megumi.”

—

There are prints in the snow.

It feels uncannily familiar, walking your usual path with Batman and seeing the two sets of paw prints and accompanying boots. You place your own footsteps in their wake, laughing at how they dwarf your own shoe size.

You aren’t supposed to see Megumi until he picks you up to go to Gojo’s tonight, but it seems fate—or Batman—has other ideas.

You let him drag you all the way to a big, snowy clearing, where you see your boyfriend and Kuro standing in the snow. It takes you a whole five seconds longer to make out Shiro, who basically blends right into the landscape.

The dogs, per usual, see you first, and Megumi turns at their excited noises to see you. He wastes no time setting off across the field toward you, and you grin, meeting him in the middle.

“So is this a coincidence, or is someone following me?” he asks, meeting you at eye-level as you crouch to greet the dogs. Batman basically shoves his nose in Megumi’s face in response.

“Snowprints,” you say, gesturing to the trail behind you. “Seems to be a theme.” Behind the wall of Kuro’s dark fur, you plant your hands in the snow, letting a mischievous smile grow on your lips. “Anyway, I’m glad I ran into you, because—”

You throw a massive snowball right at Megumi’s face.

“Oh,” he says, swiping a gloved hand across his eyes but leaving flakes of white stuck in his brows, on his lashes. “You’ve done it now.”

“Protect me,” you whisper to Kuro, and then you run.

All-out war. The dogs are thrilled at every snowball that misses its mark, all of them leaping to catch the wayward projectiles in the air, and you and Megumi chase each other and trip over the snow and wind up in a big, snow-covered mess on the ground, staring up at a shockingly bright afternoon sky.

You can barely breathe, you’re laughing so hard. “You’re crazy,” you pant, pushing yourself up onto your elbows, then your palms. An absolute mess of snowprints—his, yours, Shiro’s, Kuro’s, Batman’s—cross over each other in the snow, revealing patches of browning grass here and there, showing the signs of your battle. “Aw, hey. It looks like a giant heart.”

“Sap,” Megumi snorts.

“Buzzkill.”

“Instigator.”

“Oh, yeah?” You grab a fistful of snow and put it right on his head, letting it melt into his tousled, snow-streaked hair. “Well, I’ll instigate, then.”

He laughs, shaking his hair out like a dog, and tackles you back into the snow. “Then I’ll instigate something else.”

You’re so cold you can barely feel half your face, but it doesn’t matter. Not when he kisses you like this.

—

The first thing you think when Satoru Gojo opens the door is damn, he’s tall.

The second is holy shit, those are the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen in my entire life.

“Gumi!” he shouts, enveloping him in a very one-sided hug.

The third thing? Yeah, you like him.

“Gojo,” Megumi grumbles, half-heartedly pushing him away, but the fondness of the interaction doesn’t escape you.

“And I’ve heard all about you,” Gojo grins, pulling you into a hug as well—you don’t hesitate to hug him back, because now you know exactly what this man has done for Megumi and Tsumiki. And he’s important to Megumi, so he’s important to you.

Megumi telling you about his childhood and Gojo was one thing, but him actually wanting you to meet his family is another. You feel warm all over as Gojo ushers you into the apartment, where Tsumiki is already busy making dinner. She nearly drops the pan in her hands at the sight of you. “Hi!”

“You all hug so much,” Megumi says flatly when she hugs you too, and she just grins and forces him into an embrace as well.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

“Shut up.”

“Love you too.”

“So,” Tsumiki says, turning back to the stove and insisting you sit down and make yourself at home when you offer to help. “Tell me about you.” Instead, she enlists Megumi to be her kitchen assistant, and you aren’t sure why it’s so surprising that he knows how to cook, but it is.

The four of you talk about school and the dogs (who are at home with Suko, now that she’s finally back from Japan) and your families and friends, and you can see Megumi growing more comfortable as the night goes on, once he’s sure that Gojo isn’t about to whip out a bunch of embarrassing pictures of him as a kid or tell you all his darkest secrets. Tsumiki is sweet and you take a liking to her immediately, talking all about her job running the campus paper. Gojo tells you about the bar he works at, about his college friends who founded it.

“Do you have to work tomorrow, then?” you ask between bites of the best meatballs you’ve ever had.

Gojo shrugs. “Yeah. But if I wasn’t, I’d be hanging out with all the same people I work with, anyway. Not so bad, huh?”

“We’re actually probably going to swing by the bar tomorrow,” Megumi says, avoiding Gojo’s gaze in favor of looking at you. Gojo lights up. It’s endearing, how excited he is at the prospect of seeing all of Megumi’s friends. “You coming?” Megumi asks Tsumiki.

“To the bar or the house party?”

“Both,” Megumi shrugs.

“Only if you are,” she says not to Megumi but to you, teasingly.

“Yeah, I gotta meet the rest of his friends. All of Nobara’s housemates.”

“Oh, I love them!” Tsumiki says. “Mm, you’ll get along with Yuta. I mean, everyone does. Oh god, and Toge. And S—yeah, okay, all of them, actually. Have you met our cousin Maki?”

“No, but they all sound great,” you say honestly.

“They are!” Gojo says loudly. “They can give you so much dirt on Megumi.” Megumi glares at him with a complete lack of heat.

“You and my friend Riko would get along,” you say, but as soon as you say it you’re not sure it’s true. Either they would immediately gang up on Megumi and make his life a living hell, or Riko would have the same dynamic with Gojo and they would argue until somebody threw a punch.

Megumi stares at you incredulously. “They can never meet. Ever.”

Except they do, because you bring Riko to the bar the following night. You feel like this might have been a dire miscalculation, because not only does this mean she’s meeting Gojo, but it means she’s meeting Nobara’s housemate who, in her words, is a kindred “chaos goblin.” This means that they’re both comm majors with too much time on their hands and they make it everyone else’s problem.

Toge Inumaki is the very possibly the only person you’ve ever met who can match Riko in terms of sheer chaos. It is terrifying. They’ve known each other for a grand total of five minutes before they’re planning a full-on bracketed Just Dance tournament with Rasputin as the final battle.

“You’re insane,” you tell Riko fondly, and she grins at you.

“I think we’re brushing over the fact that you think Rasputin is the hardest one on there,” Gojo says, leaning over the bar incredulously.

“What, you think your old man knees can handle it?” Riko asks shamelessly, and you excuse yourself as they launch into bickering worthy of siblings.

But nothing explodes, and you meet Shoko and Geto and Utahime and Nanami, and all of Nobara’s housemates, including Megumi’s cousin. She’s very no-nonsense in a way that you appreciate, and after you shit-talk Naoya with her, you feel like you’re probably going to be very good friends.

It’s well past eleven by the time you all get back to Megumi’s place, leaving Gojo to ring in the new year with his own friends. Someone puts the ball drop on the TV in the living room and you all scatter across the space, a swell of conversation and laughter as midnight inches closer.

It’s like this:

A living room full of your friends and his, laughing and smiling and teasing and playing Just Dance really aggressively (but that’s just Toge and Riko, really). Megumi’s knee pressed against yours as Tsumiki forces him to smile for a picture with you. Nobara throwing her arms around you, insisting you settle a debate between her and Yuta about the superior shape of pasta noodle. Sneaking off to Megumi’s room while Yuji is distracted, stealing kisses in the dark. Listening to his whispered commentary in your ear as the drinks and sleep deprivation start hitting Toge and Yuta and they get existential on the floor. Suko telling everyone all about Japan and the occult club she started at her university there. Yuji being way too into the idea of starting one between JU and Kaisen, launching animatedly into a discussion of all his favorite conspiracy theories.

Five minutes to midnight, Kirara pops open a bottle of champagne and passes you a glass, and you wave it in front of Megumi teasingly.

“What, you wanna toast to something?” he teases, leaning in toward you. “You gonna say to us? That’s pretty Hallmark movie of you.”

You hum, swirling the glass, lifting your gaze to meet his. “To trying,” you say. “And also vigilantism?”

And there’s his laugh, better than the ball drop, the streamers, the disco ball that came from god knows where in the corner. “I can get behind that,” he says, clinking his glass against yours. “To your superhero dog,” he says, leaning in closer. “And his pretty cool sidekick.” He kisses you as the countdown hits one, and you’re laughing against his lips, savoring the warmth of his hand on the back of your neck.

When he pulls away, it’s only by centimeters, just enough for him to lock eyes with you. “And,” he breathes against your lips, “to trying.”

directory // my masterlist | out of my mind !

jjk taglist open: just send me a message!

@shutuppeter @mikikkoo @reactwithjan @theclassbookworm @lilactaro @bisforbuse @risararelywrites @idkidk32 @gojodickbig @stargazing-with-choso @anonymity-222 @honeyyhuggs

a/n: sorry this took like twenty years and it's SO LONG. heh. i'm incapable of short-form content. it was fun to write though. let me know what you thought, and be sure to pop over to out of my mind (and, if you're curious about naoya's ex, greta's sukuna spinoff, if you are NOT a minor)! thanks loves :)

[leilawanderingaround]

Watch me uno reverse Kevin Kaslana on Phainon.

__________

Under the golden thread of Okhema, you dream of Aidonia, of being held in the arms of your god who has long since departed. As a servant blessed by Thanatos, fellow daughter of the river Styx, alike to your sister- Castorice, everything you touch will seemingly rot, destroy and return to the soil be it friends or foes.

Cursed, they said. Blessed, you think. For the moment you stepped foot inside the golden gate of the Mnestia, a gaze has been lingering on you, obsessive, desperate and suffocating. You try to brush it off, the civilian doesn't dare to approach you. You are here to finish your duty as told by the prophecy, you said to yourself. Here, your comfort matters little or nothing at all.

And there you met him, Phainon of Aedes Elysiae- the deliverancer- saviour of Amphoreus- the nameless new king. For one who has been surrounded by darkness in the embrace of Thanatos like you, his smile was as bright as the sun. A sudden emotion crawls up your spine. Your mind becomes blank, your eyes wide, with heels dug into the marble floor and body frozen like stone.

It was almost enough for you to run away in fear of being captive in this endless sunlight city. Like the Titan Kephale has stolen away the breath of freedom that you possessed.

Like any other, he can't touch you. You take it as a small favour from all the suffering you have endured under the guidance of Thanatos. But yet, he still searched for you, seeking you out whenever possible. And you realized that he would not hesitate to lay down his life and many others if it means being able to touch you forever.

"Please wear this, my dear." He placed the box onto the table and looked at you with hope in his eyes. Still you shake your head. Phainon's shoulders slump in defeat, he huffs and pouts but comply nonetheless and stepped back five steps. After seeing that, you carefully go and open the box. Inside was a long cape, made of blue and golden thread almost identical to his.

You wrap the cape over your shoulder on you, still unsure of what this meant. Phainon then raised his hand, one side of the cape lifted itself up and traversed to his side. He gets down on his keen as the cape wraps around his hand and wrist.

The deliverancer then raises the piece of fabric up and kisses it, soft yet passionate as if he were kissing you instead.

"I have asked Aglaea to craft this for you. In this way, they will know that I belong to you." he whispered, closing his eyes, almost in bliss. "Until I find a way to be worthy of your touch, please bear with this, my love."

"Agy, why did you do that? You already know how [Name] is around Snowy right?" Tribbie couldn't help but question the demi-god.

"If you already know the answer then why ask, my dear friend?" Aglaea chuckles. While she does feel rather bad for the young girl, it is her duty to do so.

"Crafted by Thanatos, Chosen by Talanton, she- the left hand of darkness shall enforce all rule on humanity, serving peace by her hands that hold the leash." The Goldweaver mused, reciting the prophecy.

Phainon will not raise his hands against her even when law and freedom stance against one another. But to ensure that he doesn't lift a finger towards Okhema, towards Amphoreus, she needs to be there and be the leash that hold the mad dog back.

"All will be well, my dear" Aglaea quietly said, using the golden thread to pull the blanket over the young girl sleeping figure. "I will need you to play your role a little longer."

[altruisticalastor]

↳˗ˏˋAlastor x Readerˊˎ˗ ↴

☒ Part One Part Three

☒ Summary: Vox was getting too attached to you. You should have noticed it sooner when he began treating you with more consideration than anyone else. But you assumed it was all an act. You were sorely mistaken. You hoped that Alastor had a plan to get you out of this arrangement. 

☒ Warnings: wife!reader, she/her pronouns used, angst with slight comfort, strong hints of vox being in love with the reader, vox kisses reader on the forehead, alastor and the reader actually kiss and hug, lucifer is silly in this, jealous!alastor, reader expierencing a lot of conflicting emotions, lots of inner turmoil

☒ Word Count: 2,166

The ride back to Vox Tec Headquarters was quiet. However, Vox held onto you tightly the whole ride home.

Home? Is that what you consider this godforsaken place now? 

You lost your way, and seeing your husband tonight after several years reminded you of what once was your home. 

"Who" your home was; Alastor.

But that resentment you had for him still lingered in your heart. 

It would be a lie if you said you hadn't gotten accustomed to Vox's company. Even now, he helped you out of the car. Holding your hand tightly all the way up to your bedroom. Vox was a gentleman when it came to you. He respected your privacy, turning his back while you changed into something more comfortable. But he was also possessive, and that struck fear within you.

He was soft-spoken while he tucked you into your bed. The same bed that Vox picked out specifically for you. He knew what colors, what patterns, and what textures you liked. Taking it all into account when he bought you your blankets and clothing and accessories.

"How are you feeling, sweetheart?" Vox cooed, rubbing your arm softly. He sat at the side of your bed, eyes locked with yours. You tensed from his touch. The conflict between appreciating his gentle caress and knowing it was wrong to feel that way made guilt pool in your gut. 

"I'm fine," You lied, averting your gaze from his. Vox's touch trailed lower, giving your hand a firm squeeze before he stood. "It's been a long day for you. Try to get some rest." He spoke calmly. Turning his back toward you before making his way to your bedroom door. 

"V-Vox," You called out, stopping him in his tracks before he could take his leave. "Yes, sweetheart?" He turned to face you, offering you a welcoming smile. You balled the duvet up in your hand. The same one the man standing before you hand-picked for you. "Thank you for respecting my wishes today." You whispered before turning on your side. Not wanting to see Vox's expression to your earnest words. 

The room was silent for a few beats. Making you feel as though Vox was seeing right through your lies. Your heart pounded against your ribcage as you squeezed your eyes shut. Hoping that he would either reply or take his leave already. Your train of thought was cut off when you felt a set of lips press against your forehead. Vox's lips. 

"Anything for you, sweetheart." Before you could process the kiss Vox gave you, he was gone. You turned around the moment your bedroom door closed shut. 

Fuck. You were in deep shit. 

Vox was getting too attached to you. You should have noticed it sooner when he began treating you with more consideration than anyone else. But you assumed it was all an act. You were sorely mistaken. 

You hoped that Alastor had a plan to get you out of this arrangement. 

Alastor paced around his suite, wracking his brain on how to free you of your contract. Being on a leash himself kept him constricted in some ways, but there had to be a loophole. The Radio Demon tried to keep his composure, but knowing that his beloved wife had been confined by Vox, of all people, was unacceptable.

He never thought you would fall prey to someone as pitiful as Vox. But Alastor also knew that his vanishing without a word didn’t leave you with many options. He ached for you, truly. The Radio Demon loved you with everything he had. Even the parts of himself that never saw the light of day. Alastor’s deepest thoughts and emotions were all reserved for you.

“Hey Alastor, you in here?” The door swung open quicker than The Radio Demon could see. Alastor quickly straightened upright, clearing his throat before addressing The Princess of Hell. Who just so happened to barge into his room. “What is it?” Alastor beamed painfully wide as his patience wore thinner by the second. He didn’t have time for Hotel duties at the moment. You were his top priority.

“Sorry to barge in, but... my dad is here! Just wanted to keep you in the loop!” Charlie exited without another word. She sensed an air of malice and wanted no part of it. Alastor was a feared overlord, and she retained a handful of horror stories about The Radio Demon himself.

A lightbulb went off in his head. This was perfect- Lucifer was the answer to breaking your contract with Vox. All he would have to do was get on The King of Hell’s good side. Alastor let his shadows carry him to the foyer, being met by the sight of none other than Lucifer himself. “Uh, Charlie! Who is this?” The short man shot Alastor a pointed look. “Alastor! It’s a pleasure, quite a pleasure indeed!” The Radio Demon shook Lucifer’s hand firmly. Biting back the insults he wanted to utter due to The King of Hell’s stature. Opting to play nice for the sake of your soul.

“Yeah, uh- good to meet you. Anyway, Charlie mentioned something about a tour, so we must be going!” Lucifer’s tone was passive and short. Alastor knew it would take a bit more false kindness to get on his good side. “Oh, allow me! I am the executive producer of this lovely hotel, after all!” Charlie smiled widely, finding it flattering that Alastor cared enough about the hotel to offer his services. Little did she know that he had ulterior motives. “Aww, that’s a great idea! Thank you, Alastor. I’ll leave you both to it!”

Lucifer stuttered as he tried to find the words to protest. But it was too late. Charlie was already enamored in a conversation with Vaggie. “Come along!” Alastor’s smile grew wide as Lucifer treaded behind him. The moment they reached the second floor, Alastor spun around. Meeting Lucifer at eye level. “Let me cut to the chase! I have a favor to ask of you, Luci!” The Radio Demon quipped. “I knew there was something off about you. Well, cmon spit it out. I came here for my daughter! I don't wish to waste my precious time with common demons such as yourself.”

Alastor contemplated biting his tongue off at that moment because the words that threatened to tumble out of his mouth were way beyond foul. But instead, he took a breath, reminding himself of the greater good. “I’m glad you mentioned your darling daughter, Charlie! You see, she and I made a little deal of sorts! I would be willing to forfeit our contract in exchange for another contract being terminated!” The Radio Demon was bluffing, but he was sure the fool would buy it. Lucifer’s chest puffed up in defense. Alastor could see the wheels turning in his head as The King of Hell contemplated the trade. “Lemme guess, you got yourself in a bad contract and need some help getting out of it?” Alastor’s laughter filled the hallway from the remark. Not even Lucifer himself could get Alastor out of his deal, but that was beside the point.

“Oh heavens, no! This is about my wife. She sold her soul to one of the Vees. I need that deal to be reversed! So, do we have a deal?” Alastor outstretched his hand. Hoping that Lucifer would shake it without further delay. “The who now? The Bees? Fine, fine. I don’t really care as long as my Char Char is out of harm's way. You got yourself a deal, Malastor!” Alastor cringed at Lucifer’s lack of awareness. He was truly in his own world. But that worked to The Radio Demon’s advantage. So it didn’t really matter either which way. “Lovely!” With that, the two men shook on it. Sealing their deal. Alastor chuckled under his breath from how easy that had been. Lucifer was a common idiot. No wonder the state of hell was in shambles, he thought.

But with the King of Hell under contract with him, it was only a matter of time until you were back in Alastor’s arms. He would make sure of that.

A cool gust of wind stirred you awake. It was nearly three in the morning when you heard someone calling for you. The radio static laced Alastor's voice as he spoke your name. Surely you were still dreaming, right? 

"Don't be alarmed, my dear! It's only me." Alastor sat atop your bed. The same way Vox had earlier. His long fingers played with a strand of your hair, pushing it out of your face as he gazed upon you. "How did you get in here?" You nervously whispered. Slowly, you sat upright, grabbing ahold of your husband's face. His cold flesh meshed well against your warm hands. He really was here. 

"I have my ways!" Alastor quipped, leaning forward to capture your lips with his. Your eyelids fluttered shut as you melted against him. Oh, how you missed his touch. Seven years was far too long without him and hurt feelings aside, you loved this man with your entire being. "My love, if you get caught-" You whispered against his lips, but Alastor simply silenced you by stealing another kiss. 

"Nonsense! It's nothing I can't handle! Don't worry your pretty little head, I have an infallible plan to get you out of your contract with Vox." Excitement surged through you from the good news. "Really? That's amazing!" You beamed, wrapping your arms around Alastor's neck. Hugging him as tightly as possible. Your husband relaxed under your touch. Allowing himself to enjoy this long-awaited moment with you.

"I need you to hold out for a bit longer, my dear. Can you do that for me?" Alastor whispered into your shoulder, rubbing soothing circles into the small of your back with the pads of his thumbs. You nodded fervently. Whatever it would take, you would endure. "Yes," You sighed a breath of relief. Freedom was nearly within your reach. It was only a matter of time. Suddenly, a knock at your door pulled you from your thoughts. 

"Sweetheart? Are you awake?" 

Fuck, it was Vox. 

You frantically pulled away from Alastor's embrace. Presenting him with a frightened look. "Go, now!" You nervously hushed, giving him one last kiss before he stood. Alastor's classic grin remained, but his eyes were full of remorse for you. He hated to leave you here like this, but there was no other way. Just a little bit longer. Alastor whispered a small "I love you" before his shadows enveloped him. Whisking The Radio Demon away right in the nick of time.

Moments later, your door swung open. Revealing a worrisome Vox. "Sweetheart, why didn't you answer me?" He quickly made his way to your side. His slender fingers grasped your chin. Vox tilted your head every which way, scanning for any abnormalities. "I-I'm sorry! I had a nightmare... so I was still pretty out of it when I heard your voice." You lied. Trying your hardest to force a smile his way. Vox's expression softened from your confession. 

"You see, this is why I insisted on installing cameras in your room. I would be able to get here sooner at times like this." Vox sighed, pulling you into his chest. His arms enveloped your waist. "No cameras in here, you promised..." You mumbled into his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his frame loosely. If you were entirely unresponsive, Vox would know you were being furtive. So you played your part. Whatever it would take, right?

"I did promise. You're right, sweetheart. But the offer still stands." Vox squeezed you tighter. The embrace bordered the lines of discomfort from how he held onto you. All you could do was nod against him, hoping he would release you sooner rather than later. "I-I know, thank you." It felt like pulling teeth, forcing out those words. Slowly, Vox pulled away. He gently pressed your shoulders down before tucking you back into bed. 

"Try to get some more rest. It's still early, sweetheart. If you have another nightmare, just call out to me. I'll be here." Vox pressed another kiss to your forehead before standing up. He walked over to the chair that resided in the corner of your room. Vox made himself comfortable, gaze never once faltering from you. You squeezed your eyes closed. Forcing yourself to doze off despite the pressure you felt from his watchful gaze. 

Alastor had remained outside your bedroom window. Overhearing your and Vox's entire conversation. His blood was boiling. Is this what you've had to endure for all these years? Alastor clawed at the side of the building right beside your window. His anger was only building the more he replayed the air of discomfort you illuded. Vox made a grave mistake thinking he could win you over.

You were his wife, and he would remind Vox of that fact. It was only a matter of time. 

tags; @danveration @celestial-vomit @jyoongim @stygianoir @polytheatrix @mmik3yy @littlebullofblythe @cxrsedwxrlds @lillithhearts @nogiggleonlybitter @minniemumbles @chewbrry @lbcreations-blog @nonetheartist @call-me-nyxx @zombiesnips-blog @stawberrypimpsimp @wonderlandangelsposts

[robolvrr]

hey im 21 and i just found ur blog im obsessed w the rodimus x reader thing u wrote and I was wondering if you could write smth similar for either shockwave or soundwave x reader (or both??? 😳) - I luv to see a human bringing a bot to their knees and ur writing is top tier

lovedrunk ᴗ｡‿⁠✷

soundwave x gn! human reader

warnings: nsfw! drabble. thank you for the patience! ✷

warmth splashes down your back, gooey and metallic. the sensation forces your eyes open, lashes dew-kissed with tears. it envelopes you with grounding peace, even though your nerves are rattled and you can barely force out a gasp.

you're surprised when you're gently turned around, facing the reflection of your own desires staring cherubly back at you. it's sweet, the gesture itself hinting neediness.

soundwave's visor is blazing crimson, heat radiating from his dark-blue accents bold on his bulkier frame. he didn't possess the proper eyes to convey his drunkenness on you, but his attention is felt nonetheless, square on the trembling of your hands.

he's looking at his transfluid, pretty shades of pink painting your soft flesh and drying like polish. you glitter and sheen.

you can hear the way his fans click and reset in efforts to keep his temperature level, too. it's tantalizing.

"keep going. wanna feel you in me again."

although he fully could overpower you and at first glance it appears he is - spike pressurized, slamming deep and mechanically with a passion that an hollowed-out being like him shouldn't possess - that isn't the case. the metaphorical leash is held tight in your palms, knuckles white from the squeeze.

"as you wish."

does his vocalizer fizzle at the end, or is your imagination playing tricks?

so intimate, the way his giant servo cradles your spine. you meet his thrusts with shallow rocks of your own, admiring the thickness go in and out with little trouble. creamy arousal glistens near flaring biolights lining his shaft. his digits fist in your hair and you nod, approvingly.

"mmn, just. like. that. just like t-thaaat, ooo-oh!"

soundwave's creaking groan deep at his spark rumbles within earshot and has you blushing, toes curled as he starts to speed up. he doesn't share your need for breaks but to his surprise and maybe, while not admitted delight - you do keep up better than assumed.

you press your lips to your arms which have unfolded above your head, mouth gushing with spit. soundwave thinks the laughter, shrill and wanting and happy, is the most enchanting music that's touched this side of the planet.

it's even more so when it's all for him.

the sun crescents above as he continues to plow into your tinier hole, perversion at its finest when even the tightest of valves could hardly hold candlelight to what you provide. in a different world, one where conquering wasn't so atop his natural duties, he'd have you seated in his lap. except, you'd be looking down on him, that messy spit of yours lolling off your tongue, into his intake, down his chin - he's yours, he's all yours, don't you see?

"i... i am close." soundwave sounds grittier than usual.

even with your insides rearranging, just a chip from a titans resolve is more than enough to invigorate. a single touch to his chest and he's leaning back, taking you with him in a gentle scoop. still doing his best to keep going, trying not to peak when it's clear you're still starving.

his e.m. field shrieks for you. could he brand your handprints on his chest, near his crest?

delirious. he must take up with shockwave. what makes humanity so addictive? do you have some sort of biological spell, a mixture of chemicals and haunting charm that drives mechs mad?

"that's right. fill me. take me." bouncing. you look evil, little beast, little monster. "t-take it." keeping in time with that everlasting torture his spark beats, his helm dips back, arms shaking. "overload. overload in me, soundwave, coat all of me in you, fuck, fuck, fuck-"

a whimper. it took hours, but it's well earned. he whimpers, as you slowly lift up to the tip, only riding enough to suction his spike at the most sensitive area in efforts to gain every drop he has to give.

you don't have to repeat yourself. with a roar, he jackhammers a final time violently, steam whistling between his exposed seams and shit, you wouldn't have it any other way. overload he did, enough to spurt and bubble, stare staggering between the remnants dribbling from your sore body, to the sheen of sweat, then the grin that's stayed picture perfect.

primus. you're still going. you're still moving, groping your own body roughly. one day, you promised he'd be allowed if he kept up his behavior. he can't find himself to do anything but lay back and watch, the cavity in his chassis aching.

soundwave may be loyal to megatron, his brother in arms, the decepticon cause.

but you? he worships you.

robolvrr 2025.

a/n : thank you again for the patience! i will be revisting both waves because i can't resist them (sorry for edging y'all LMAO.)

[angelsrcute]

You said dom reader is okay so I am LAYING MY BRAINROT ON THE TABLE—

I'd like to respectfully request Overblot Boys (sans Riddle) being dominated by the reader (preferably afab & gn, there's so much submissive fem reader stuff out there & I want rep as a dom-leaning vers).

Those poor boys all need some therapizing & to get out of their own heads so bad— so what's a better way of doing so than taking charge and making them forget how to speak by pleasuring them? Sure, they can be defiant; and they can deal with a firm hand correcting them. But good boys who admit they need help & ask for it can be rewarded with fucking until they're empty and fuzzy-headed. ^^

The only one I had a semi-specific scenario in mind for was Jamil— him being blindfolded while being sucked off. His attempt at trying to regain control leads to him getting a smack on the ass & tied up so the reader can mark his pretty torso with hickies that they press on while cooing to him & edging him until he yields.

... can you tell I've been repressed lately? Lmao-

WALK EM LIKE A DOG. 𝝑��

૮𐔌ྀི ´ ཀ ྀི 𐦯ྀིა 𝐍-𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 !! ; Sub!Leona, Jamil and Azul (separate) + Dom!F!Reader ➜ cws: Brat taming, nipple play, biting, blindfold use, gag use, spanking (once), restraints (Jamil), mommy kink, crying, use of strap on, praising (Azul), leash and collar use, cunnilingus, praising, hair pulling (Leona). ᡴꪫ‎

꒰ † ੭ — Part 1; I absolutely loved writing for this idea! Though I'm still wondering about what to write for the rest, don't mind if it's late, haha! <3

❝ 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋 ❞ — 🪦

This man is definitely a brat, always running his big mouth off. So to make him behave you blindfolded him and put a cloth around his mouth, good, now he will finally shut up. You leave trails of kisses down his neck, biting and sucking on his sensitive spot. You kneel down and stroke his cock a few times before taking it in your mouth.

God, it felt so good, he could feel your eyes were on him— his back arching as he gripped the sheets. His moans were muffled by the gag, he tried to pull away but you held him, landing a smack on his ass. “Behave, if you want to cum, you'd have to be a good boy.” You spat out, smiling at his state. You continued what you were doing, pressing kisses on his cock and edging him! When are you even gonna let the poor boy cum!? Atleast he's listening to you like a good boy after being tied up because of his bratty attitude. <3

❝ 𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐋 ❞ — 🪦

He'd be such a pathetic crying mess, your good little boy! Just shower him with praises and kisses while you thrust inside his hole with your strap-on and he's already fucked dumb. He can only focus on how good it feels, maybe being weak isn't so bad, if he gets to be in your arms. You'd wipe away his tears and tell him he's the best.

Worship his body, play with his sensitive little nipples, leave love bites on his skin— he loves it all, he'd show them off with no shame if he wanted to. He'd definitely be ashamed about the noises he's making so he buries his head between the pillow as you fuck him. Maybe this guy also has a mommy kink! <3

“Gonna cum for mommy, yeah? Let yourself go, my baby.”

❝ 𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐀 ❞ — 🪦

He'd never admit he likes you dominating him, people are supposed to bow down before him— He is the king, isn't he? But no, you're currently sitting on the bed while holding the leash attached to his collar. How degrading. He can't believe he enjoys it!

His tongue darted out, lapping up your sweet juices. Your fingers tangling itself in his hair as you pull his head back, “How about you beg and maybe I'll end your punishment? Fair deal, right?”

He doesn't meet your eyes but whispers something you can't hear, “What was that, sweetie? You're always so loud, what's wrong, hm?” You try not to laugh at the pathetic man in front of you, you can see his ears turning red as he speaks louder, “P-Please let me pleasure you—”

“Good kitty, go ahead.” You watch as he eagerly dives back, you grip his hair tighter as you feel your orgasm coming. You pull him closer and cum in his mouth, he licks you clean. You let go of his hair, letting him catch his breath, “Well done, now, let's reward you for being good for me, shall we?” <3

[seasidefallenangel]

she's got those evil eyes (2)

bllk boys and their mean girlfriends ft nagi seishiro, hiori yo, michael kaiser

notes: i got asked to make a part 2, reader is still a bitch, hiori and kaiser's kinda suggestive?, part 1

༄ nagi seishiro:

✣ his pr team asking him to care about his girlfriend’s actions is like pulling teeth - only twenty times more frustrating. whatever you say goes as far as he’s concerned. even if he himself doesn’t wanna do something, the glare in your eyes with your foot tapping impatiently on the hardwood floor causes a quiet, “yes, boss,” to fall from his lips in submission. maybe he’s a tiny bit scared of you, but he also knows it’s just easier to give you whatever you want and be your watchdog to shield you from criticism instead.

⁀➷ if nagi died in the next five seconds then he would be satisfied. going out with your nails gently massaging his scalp while he snuggles against your stomach and plays on his phone is probably the closest to heaven anyone has ever been. so when that hand is so cruel as to leave his head in favor of smashing the keys on your phone, he’s very obviously displeased. “come baaack,” he mumbles with a slight whine in his voice. you’re unresponsive, causing him to move and look up at you, asking, “what are you doing now?” he has a vague idea of what considering his manager is rapid texting him to log onto your account and delete your tweets, but he simply mutes the conversation. you mutter that it’s nothing he needs to worry about, and he just responds with, “mkay,” before tugging your hand to his hair again, intent on being coddled by you. 

༄ hiori yo:

✣ the devil on your shoulder whispering to do all this stuff in the first place. he knows he looks completely harmless, so you’re the perfect cover for him to let out all his deranged thoughts by proxy. it looks like he has a tight leash on you, but the reins are barely even held in his hands. kurona sends him an interview one of the paparazzi managed to snag of you walking out from the grocery store, and hiori flat out leaves practice because he needs to see you now.

⁀➷ the recording of your voice echoes from his cell phone while he enters your shared home after rushing there. a grin lies on his face as he hears you tell the reporter how you’re thrilled that his worthless life led him to hassling a soccer player’s girlfriend before yanking his camera and throwing it on the ground. a fair share of comments say you had every right to do so considering the invasive nature of the press while the rest disagree, saying it was far too aggressive. if anything, hiori wishes you were more aggressive.

you can’t even get a word in as he sits on the couch, gripping your wrists almost painfully while tugging you into his lap. his lips are on yours faster than you can blink - kissing you so hard you feel lightheaded but it’s just not enough. hiori needs you pliant beneath him, that nasty streak of yours quelled by his suffocating hold. despite that, part of him wants you kicking and cursing him out, teeth gnashing as blood from your lips trickles into his mouth. his heart is clawing its way out of his chest and eager to jump into yours, for you to become an extension of his body. an endless plethora of breathy “i love you”s is his confession of how badly he wants to break you, and have you break him in return.

༄ michael kaiser:

✣ be serious - he’s the one you’re fighting with the most. there’s nothing he loves more than to rile you up, knowing how fast your temper will crack. a self proclaimed expert at getting under your skin if he had to describe it. though he still enjoys seeing how harsh you can be with the general public, his favorite pastime will always be pissing you off. quite frankly, he tends to get jealous when you’re paying just a bit too much attention to others during your rampages. 

⁀➷ an amused smirk rests on kaiser’s face as he leisurely stands against the frame of your shared bedroom’s door. if he’s being honest, part of him isn’t even listening. you’re busy spitting out insults about his demeanor towards one of your friends and all he can think about is ripping the attitude out of you. not forever, of course. the enjoyment he gets from your outbursts is far too valuable. maybe just for a night or two so he can enjoy his docile puppy before you begin baring your teeth towards him once more. even now as you grow more irate, he’s walking over like he has all the time in the world - completely unbothered.

his fingers curl around your chin, paying no mind to the way you try to bite them off. instead, he’s cooing at you like you’re a harmless child. “hm? what’s got you all worked up, haschen? have i not been giving you enough attention?” his all-knowing tone infuriates you and you’re about to try and mutilate him until his hand slides down to your throat, squeezing just enough to know that he can and will rip the breath from your lungs. voice eerily low, he stares into your eyes with a piercing grin and unsettling smile, asking, “should i show you how i deal with feral animals?”

[aswanlake]

SMOKE & FOG

0.1 Red Smoke

pairing: jinx x reader (romantic) , isha x reader (siblings)

synopsis: Your entire life has been dictated by a debt you owe to Smeech, one that grows with every move you make. He holds your sister and you on a tight leash, one mistake leads to your sister being taken and your only option is to fight or die.

word count: 2.7K

warnings: villainous activity, murder, oppression, mistreatment, blood & gore, hurt/comfort, drugs & drug use, canon violence, suggestive themes, angst, spoilers, cursing, fighting !!

Red smoke filled the air, perhaps it was the blood dribbling that mixed with the air around it, or it was the suffocating rage from every child who watched as their parents, cousins, siblings and friends were torn to shreds by the flying bullets. There was no one who could save the poor souls on that bridge, there was barely anyone left alive except for Vander, his grunts of pain and adrenaline could be heard through the bridge, screams and cries of pain and terror came from those he faced off against and yet after a moment, it just stopped. There was nothing. Just silence. My body was hunched under a rock, shielding my little sister’s extremely frail body in my arms, she was a baby, still wrapped up in a little blanket that we could barely afford, her cries came from every loud noise and all I could do was attempt to shush her– fear and adrenaline being the only reminder of why I was still under here with her. However whenever the loud noises stopped and shooting gave out, what replaced it were footsteps. The relief that coursed through my body was unimaginable. Finally, it was over, win or lose. I didn't care, I just wanted to escape back home with Isha and our parents. 

There was a silence that raged over the bridge as I climbed out, bodies piling on top of others, eyes wide open with dread still stricken upon their face, they all looked scared as if they weren’t ready for death and yet here their lifeless bodies laid. It was sickening, a soft cry escaped my lips as tears welled up in my eyes, where were our parents? Where did they go? They were on this bridge just like everyone else so where were they? I couldn’t run, as much urgency was in my body, I couldn’t move my legs fast enough to form a sprint, I just walked. Shielding the little girl in my arms from all the pain and terror, I wouldn’t let her see this, I wouldn’t let her remember this, I wouldn’t let her grow up in a time like this– it was all gonna change, it was gonna be different whenever she was growing up. Those thoughts in my head were the only thing that kept my head up high as I walked past the bodies. The bodies of friends and our parents, the bodies of those who fought so hard for something that should be a human right, whether they were from Zaun or from Piltover. The bodies of those who fought for Respect. 

The rain is riotous, beating down on the small covers and hoods of those walking the streets of the undercity, no man or woman laid safe. One foot in front of the other, don’t look around. My gaze held towards the floor, looking around would only drag me into the reality I live in. Children on the streets without parents, working for scammers and con artists, insufferable and disgusting but we had to make money somehow. Not everyone was gifted with a silver spoon in their mouth and a warm bed to sleep in, not everyone was given private dance lessons and piping hot food that could feed an entire village for just one meal. Not everyone was born in Piltover and the price? Your life. There was no respect in the city of Zaun, at least not anymore, Vander was killed by Silco in some raging fight that took place in a warehouse and he was the people’s last standing symbol of peace. After Silco took over, shimmer raged through the streets and took over like a disease, even after his death it still runs rampant thanks to his goons. I am one of those goons, I am someone keeping it on the street, money is money and a job is a job, it hurts so many people but I do what I have to do to keep my family safe. 

A small groan of annoyance escaped my mouth. I was only 17 years old but I had the weight of another human laid atop my shoulders. She could be no older than 7 but definitely not younger than 5 years of age, Isha, my sister. I don’t really know when her birthday is, not like we could celebrate it anyways, there are no birth certificates or calendar here, so we just assumed that it's sometime during the end of the year because that's whenever our parents would say happy birthday. 11/16, that is the birthday I have written down for her, the only one we care to acknowledge. My mind filled with grief as I entered the booming building, music blaring from the speakers and the cacophony of deals being made by every wall in his building was overwhelming and sickening. I turned my nose up in disgust (not like I was any better than them), as I turned towards the office building, a high rise, with glass windows to watch over the place as if he was some ghost. Smeech, one of the worst men I have ever met in my entire life, he had no good qualities, I would have rather he not offered me this job at all then let me watch as people waste their lives trying to get even a sniff of shimmer. Good and bad news was that the selling rate was down, more people were getting snatched off the streets while trying to find buyers and the production rate was too high to keep up with the missing sellers so whoever was left had to pick up the pace. 

Caitlyn Kiramman’s enforcers were running circles around us, she made us look like chickens with our heads up off, which wouldn’t have mattered to me if it wasn’t for the fact that I couldn’t keep up. I had too many boxes on me at a time and too many lurkers and followers while trying to do my job, if he kept pushing me like this then I’d certainly get caught. With a heavy knock on his door, I pushed it open without waiting for confirmation– this was important. The rat creature moaned in annoyance upon even seeing my face.

  “What do you want, child?” The sickening smoke of shimmer made its way out of his mouth while he smoked, filling the room with its pungent smell. Had it not been such an addictive drug I would have been turned away but something kept my feet from moving, a small inhale was all I took before turning my head away from his nonsense. “Less materials on my person. I’m carrying way too much cargo with not enough people to give it to. All my regulars are in hiding because of the enforcers or have already been grabbed! I have no one to sell to and walking around with even a drop of shimmer will get people arrested nowadays. What do you think they’ll do to me with eight vials full of it?” Despite the urgency in my voice, I didn’t raise my volume or lose my cool, I knew better than that, I knew my place, I wasn’t gonna be killed over such a trivial thing. I couldn’t be killed, I had to make it back home to raise Isha and make sure that she wasn’t alone, if I didn’t do it then no one would. “You’re a smart enough kid, you can figure it out. You sell the product, you get the money and you give it back to me. You’re already behind on repaying this debt of yours, don’t make me charge you an annoyance fee.” My debt.

I owed him my life because he was willing to take me in and promised that as soon as I paid him off he would let me and Isha go however every time I got even remotely close to freeing us, he would charge me some random out of the blue fee and added it to my tab making it once again out of reach. I knew it was on purpose, I knew he was never truly going to let us go but there was a small hope in that mind that maybe one day I could make enough money so that he doesn’t expect it, so that he has to let us go. A whine escaped my throat as I tried to reason with him, as I pleaded. “But sir-” “Make it a stupidity fee, how are you this incompetent? It’s just business sweetheart, and you’re behind on your dues anyways, there isn’t much room for you to be arguing with me. Out.”

I didn’t say a word after that, I couldn’t, I took whatever strength I had that would carry me out of the room and pushed until it led me out of the building. 

Two hours later and I’ve only sold two vials, one to an elderly woman who looked like she was well on her way to death’s door, I tried to convince her that it wasn’t actually worth it to buy but she didn’t listen, something about being glad that she didn’t have to spend another moment down here was freeing to her and the second vial to someone from Silco’s old crew. They could buy plenty more but they chose not to directly interact with Smeech himself so they went through his buyers and even though we aren’t supposed to sell it to them, I did anyway. I tossed the gold coins up into the air with a smile, I completely overcharged him but who cares? “When did we say selling to Silco’s crew was back on the table, blighter?” Debt collectors, they roamed the streets while we were making deals, my head wasn’t in the right place, I completely forgot. Stuffing the coins into the small bag across my waist, I shrugged. “What’s it to you? We’re all charlatans, are we going to bypass the fact that you guys are charging children for crimes they didn’t commit to keep them in your debt? Or the old people you trick into owing their entire lives to you knowing that they won’t be able to afford it?”

My teeth clicked in arrogance, I held nothing over them but calling them out felt good to roll off the tongue, they needed to be checked every now and then too. “You’re just blood thirsty animals.” They scoffed at me, scoffed, my presence to them was insignificant, that I was aware of but seeing it play out in front of me still stabbed at my heart a little bit. “You forget yourself blighter. Perhaps we should.. remind you? Yeah?” The confirmation wasn’t for me and yet I couldn’t stop my head from shaking. This was going to end in bloodshed, there was no avoiding it but I wasn’t scared, I couldn't be scared of them. One thing went through my mind,  I have to get home to Isha. My hands raised to cover my face, eyes peeking out behind my clenched fists to stare them down, I was ready for a fight.

I shouldn’t have been so naive to think that I could fight all three of them at once, however it was the only option. The taller gentleman rushed towards me first, swinging his arms in whatever way they would move towards my body. I looked like a child compared to them, they were unnaturally tall and buff and their suits didn’t hide it at all. My body dipped towards the floor as his hands rammed into the wall, I swore I could feel the ground shake, but that didn’t waver my spirit. I struck his chest with every force in my body, it wasn’t a lot but enough to knock him back up against that very same corner, not even a second to breath as I was bombarded with another man racing towards me, his palm struck my side, launching me into the wall. It cracked upon impact and my body felt like it shattered, every limb hurt to move, with a split second I moved to the right, his second punch landing into the wall right next to me. My eyes expanded and my pupils dilated and I pulled away from the wall and steadied my body and stance once again, but arms wrapped around me, a crushing weight that stayed on top of me and kept me in place. A scream erupted from my throat as I tried to escape, struggling in every direction as the weight on top of me only got worse, it got tighter, more restricting until crack. The vials. The shimmer, it was still in my bag, how many vials did he crush? Was it seeping into my skin? My mind went blank, the weight was no longer crushing  me but I didn’t know what was happening? My face connected with the floor, was I dropped or did I hurt him? I didn’t mean to hurt them, even though they probably could have killed me. The intention wasn’t to get anyone hurt besides a simple warning. 

When my eyes opened again all of them were on the floor, blood spilled out of wounds I didn’t remember making and my hands were covered in it. I tried wiping my face but it only smeared the blood already there, what have I done? Before I could make sense of anything the screeching from an enforcer came from the other side of the alleyway. I shook my head, this wasn’t me, I didn’t do this! I was innocent! Why wouldn’t my mouth open to explain? I opened up the pouch and raised one of the vials, I still had four safe but two of them were cracked, those were probably the two affecting my mind, my heart, my body. I could hear my heart in my ears, the thumping and beating as if I was inhuman, was I still human at this point? As soon as I raised the vial of shimmer, their guns were out? Panic was sewn into my nerves, I couldn’t get shot, were they gonna kill me? Leave my body for dead? Would I ever be found? Isha. My mind went blank and my eyes were bloodshot, I couldn’t think straight, I couldn’t see straight, I blacked out. 

When I woke all I could feel was crimson dripping down my hand, the puddle beneath me only growing wider, spreading through the cracks in the small alleyway. Enforcers. Dead. Three Enforcers were dead and three debt collectors right next to them. The topsiders would hear news of this soon and my boss would hear about his debt collectors being missing but I couldn’t worry about it, what was the last thing I was thinking about? Isha? Isha. Where was she? Where is my sister? I couldn’t care less about the head I bashed into the wall just a moment ago or the knife I plunged into another man’s throat or the Enforcer’s gun that I lodged into a man’s side as a distraction before his untimely death. Smeech’s debt collectors would probably be after her especially if they were after me, they knew where I was so they certainly had to know where she was. 

I needed to get back to my sister. My sister. My sister, Isha, I need to get back to her. Ichor running down my arm no longer bothered me, the ever growing pain in my abdomen only lingered as I ran and yet I didn’t stop. I couldn’t even remember how I got that injury but I couldn’t stop, my legs carried me to the last place I saw her. Three more dead debt collectors (this seemed to be a brand), shot straight through the head. Clean. Not a single mistake, completely intentional, whoever made the shot knew exactly what they were doing. A waft of pink smoke wavered from the body, it was fre- pink? shit. Jinx. There was only one person in town creating such imagery and also being such a great shot, no enforcers were in town (not anymore) and to be honest none of them were this great of a shot even if it was close range. The wanted posters of her face made her look psychotic, terrifying, right on brand to what the topsiders thought everyone looked like. I couldn’t let this go, I was still alive and the dead men meant that my sister was still out there too. 

A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed the very first chapter!

taglist ; @llycrow @katethejinxwife @hank-girl @ayedomino0 @jiunxo @vivispace @d-demqn

[writingsfromhome]

That’s so True II

A/N: pure angst; egos are still up, feelings are still confused, guards are up and down and even though it seems like I hate them as the writer I do root for them but navigating one-sided vulnerability is a rideee. Mentions of alcohol and drugs—thanks for reading xx

Word Count: 18k+

Part 1 / 2

———————————————————

I made it out alive but I think I lost it.

When Harry approached me after school when I was working on yearbook, I was surprised. He came just as himself and even though he tried to act like a dick, that personality was chucked out as soon as I told him I wasn’t putting up with it.

And he listened. And he looked surprised, but most surprising for me was when he apologized back. It obviously surprised him too because that’s also when his mask came back down; I saw it happening—backtracking so he could put a leash on his vulnerability.

There was no denying though as he was apologizing, the look in his eyes and the way his gaze lingered on my face…I knew he was holding back. That night and our time together left just as much of an imprint on him than it did me.

The thing is I wanted to punish him, make him hurt, because how dare he do that to me. If he wanted to deny what really happened between us and move on, continue being the jock everyone knew him to be, I’d let it sting.

I know he expected me to be upset, maybe even argue. But as soon as I realized what he was doing I put my own mask on; I was good at it these days. And there was a satisfaction with how shocked he looked as he walked out without the upper hand.

That’s his price, I had thought.

But now here I was on the other side of my Harry Experience and my heart still kicked a little extra when I caught sight of him. When I pass him in the halls, in the lunchroom, in the parking lot, and I could feel his eyes on me.

I could just get a boyfriend if it was a physical need. But it wasn’t that simple.

Sometimes before I fall asleep I think of that night, of the pain he felt on my behalf. And it hits deeper.

Past:

Harry had caught up to me as I was leaving the school building today. He had asked if I was busy tonight and my heart had sputtered like a dying car because we had been hooking up for a couple weeks and every time we did I expected it to be the last time yet he always found ways to be at the same place I was or catch me wherever I was.

He had been a distraction for me from everything at home and I never expected us to have longevity.

He told me he would pick me up around 7 for a surprise. I’d gone home in a cloud of rainbows and butterflies but home itself was an antidote to daydreaming.

Mum was home early from work so I head to my bedroom. I didn’t care for forced conversation. All she wanted to talk about these days was my future.

By the time I come down the sun is starting to set and I can hear her on the phone with Nan. She’s telling Nan she doesn’t know if she can help her clean out the house and that my dad didn’t want anything to do with it.

Nan was actually my paternal grandma and her and Grandpa had raised me while my dad lived in a new city every few months for work and mum followed. They’d be sure to be in town for Christmas most years and during off-seasons but when I thought of the people who raised me it wasn’t mum and dad.

Dad always had a complicated relationship with his own father so even though they happily took me in and it looked okay from the outside, every family reunion or dinner was tense and passive.

When grandpa passed a few weeks ago it was Nan and I who held each other up. Mum had tried to be there but she never knew what to say to me. Dad had gotten stony and silent. So now I just walked the few streets over to visit Nan every time I missed him too much.

“What’s going on?” I whisper to mum as she continues on the phone. Were they cleaning grandpa’s stuff out already? It hadn’t been long.

Suddenly I start to worry about all of his valuables, everything he held dear all in the bin. Of Nan trying to sort it all by herself and being overwhelmed—I could help.

Mum waves me off, “Well we’ll see. We can always hire someone. I’m sure Phil will pay for it.”

“I called asking for help with this not to have money I don’t need thrown my way.” Her voice is distant on the receiver but mum’s volume is always so loud I can make it out. Nan only ever took dad’s money if it had to do with me. “I need to do this myself not hire somebody. I-this is making me upset. I’m hanging up now.”

She hangs up without a goodbye and mum rolls her eyes.

“Somehow I’m always between the two of them.”

I watch her move back to her cutting board and stare as she chops. If there was any humour here I would laugh but it always got to me when she’d say things like that. Because it was always me between the two—my actual family and my family that raised me. My loyalty to my grandparents for all the love and time they raised me with and my loyalty to my parents because…well, they were my parents.

“What did she want?” I ask eventually.

“Someone to help her pack up the house. And she’s asking us to hold some of her things as storage I mean-“ she throws her hands up.

“Why?” Nan had plenty of space at home, why did she need ours?

“Well whoever rents that place probably doesn’t want all her rubbish everywhere.”

Rents.

“Who’s renting? What do you mean?”

Mum looks up sharply and sighs when she sees my face. “Oh dear. Did Nan or your dad not tell you yet?”

“Tell me what!?” I demand, my heart racing and my knees feeling like they were made of straw.

“Sit down-“ she points to a stool. I do so grudgingly. “Your Nan…she’s going to be moving-“

“No. She can’t be she would have said-“

“Well she just made the final decision the other day-“

I’m snatching my jacket and racing out the front door, down the street, pumping my arms until I’m in front of the familiar door. The place that my memories went to when I thought of home.

My breath is having a hard time coming out and my hands shake so I knock until Nan opens the door. One look at me and the sadness pools in her eyes.

“Oh my love I’m sorry.”

“No Nan,” I burst into tears. “Tell me it’s not true! Mum’s lying!”

“C’mon,” she mumbles as she urges me into the house. My feet shuffle to the cozy wooden kitchen and I collapse in the closest chair because her non-answer was already an answer. I knew it in my bones.

“Why?” I ask when I see her again.

She sits beside me, her eyes full of tears. “I didn’t want you finding out like this. I-I’m making your favourite, we were going to have dinner and I was going to-“

Her breath catches and suddenly I feel awful for making her feel bad.

“Nan,” I hold her hand and she clasps it with her other.

“I’m sorry my love. It’s…this house is filled with his ghost. I don’t know how to…”

I find I’m crying too. But what about me, I want to ask. But even I know that’s selfish.

“Before he…when he was in hospital he made a plan for me. He talked to my sister—you’ve met her a few times I think. She lives alone, been a widow for…6 years now? He made all these plans so I can live with her. And she’s made it happen. For as long as I need, she tells me.”

“So you’re just-“ I use my other hand to wipe my tears. “So you’re just going to pick up your life and move? So far away? I-“

What about me?

“I can’t live here-“

“Move in with us!” I urge. Why didn’t grandpa make plans for her to move a few streets over. Why did he do this.

“YN, my dear…” she pats my hand. I know she couldn’t. I knew.

“I’ll never see you again?” I cry.

“Don’t be silly,” she stands and tugs me to her. I wrap my arms around her aging torso, my head on her chest, and it’s so overwhelmingly home that I begin to cry. And with the patience she’s had her whole life she rubs my back and soothes me with promises.

“You’re moving for uni this year—everything’s going to be different. And Phil’s already bought tickets for you to come visit me in the summer. We’ll always be in each other’s lives.”

But not physically. And suddenly I’m angry—what was dad’s issue that he couldn’t stand his parents. That his own mother couldn’t move in with us at a time like this. Why would Nan do this to me.

I let go of Nan and stand up.

“Where are you going?” She calls out as I head for the door. “YN where-“

“I have to go.” I sniffle.

“But I’m making dinner-“

“I have plans.” I say and it hurts just to say it and hurts more to see her face fall.

“Oh…well maybe tomorrow. Come by tomorrow and we can talk okay?”

I shrug and this time I don’t look at her face; a coward who couldn’t see what it does to her. “Maybe.”

“I love you,” she says as I near the door. “No matter what.”

I mumble something in response and leave. But I don’t want to go home. Luckily my phone pings then. Harry.

Outside yours, are you ready?

Crap. I’d forgotten.

At my Nan’s few streets away gimme 2 mins

I feel like my feet are made of steel as I walk over. I try to wipe my face and take deep breaths, anything to prevent him from seeing the mess tonight has made me.

“Aren’t you cold?” Is the first thing he asks me when I knock on his passenger door.

I forgot I was only wearing a jumper.

“A bit. M I must have forgotten my coat at Nan’s.” I sit inside where it is considerably warmer.

“You didn’t have to rush,” he watches me tuck myself in. “I texted you that.”

“Oh,” I check my phone. He had said that, I just missed it. “That’s alright. Where to?”

His eyes light up, now distracted from what he was just worried about. “You’ll have to see.”

“Patience is not my virtue,” I warn him and that earns a grin. His whole face was quite animated when he smiled like that and my stomach flips. Tonight still heavy on my mind, could be eclipsed by a smile like that. A smile for me.

He turns off my street and even though I was curious I’m not watching where we’re going. Instead I’m watching him.

I really was surprised he kept turning up. That he hadn’t grown tired of me.

That first night I approached him in desperate need of a distraction—of a boy and some booze, I could tell he was surprised but he’d risen to the occasion and made himself a perfect distraction.

And then a few nights later we’d made out in his car after school in the parking lot. We did that a few times actually. And the weekend after he’d been at a party I was at and we’d found an empty room. He was obviously more experienced and it made it both new and fun.

He catches me watching him and responds by sliding his hand over my thigh. I was wearing tights but the warmth of his delicious hands go straight through the fabric. His thumb strokes absentmindedly as he drives and I feel like more than a hook-up and he feels like more than a distraction but I discard the thoughts from my mind.

I didn’t want to make things messy. Messier than what my life already was.

“So you’re really giving me no clues?” I ask.

“Nope.”

“I’m surprised you’ve actually planned something. I thought you wouldn’t be a planner.”

He squeezes my thigh and laughs. “I like it when people think they figured me out and then they’re surprised.”

“Yeah?” I ask. I wondered if that happened often with him being the stereotype of a player.

“Yeah. It’s fun. Seeing people surprised. Like when our biology teacher last year congratulated me for getting the highest grade in one of the exams—I’d studied for a week straight so I earned that shit, but the looks on everyone’s faces was crazy.”

I laugh. It’s cute hearing him explain this. Ironically it was also surprising.

“Okay look,” he turns into a lot and I suddenly know where we were. But I’m confused.

“A beach?” I ask. “Harry you know it’s still February and it’s cold as bollocks.”

That makes him laugh. “Yeah? But I’ve got blankets and some wine I stole from my parents and we can keep each other warm.”

He brushes my cheek with his thumb as he says so. It’s gentle and inviting—I never thought someone like him would have these sides to him. I assumed wrongfully that players like him just seduce but Harry’s seducing had a finer art.

Suddenly I remember, “I forgot my coat.”

“Yeah you can wear mine!”

“No then you’ll be cold.”

He tried to reassure me it would be fine but in that moment all the feelings that had just been distracted come forth. If I had just gotten my coat I wouldn’t have to borrow his. Now all this Harry planned for us would go to shit.

“Here,” he starts stripping his coat off when I don’t respond and drapes it around me. “I’ve got a hoodie on and a couple blankets back there it can work.”

“I…” the coat is big and warm, trapped with the smell of him and it makes me lose my train of thought for a moment. I want to grow smaller and just live in this coat and forget all my problems like my thoughts.

“Let’s just see how bad it is out there.” He says with his easygoing smile.

“Okay,” I didn’t want to be a spoil sport. “Let’s see if you brought me out here to freeze to death or not.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” he says as we exit the car. “We’re going to keep each other warm.”

“Harry this is quite romantic,” I tease as he walks around to get to me. “Honestly didn’t know you had this side to you.”

He leans me into the car, his cold hands curling around my neck. “Stop underestimating me YN. Plus I could say the same about you.”

Before I can ask what he means he leans down to kiss me with his soft lips and stubbly chin. It tickles and I pull away.

When I rub my hand over it he laughs, a low and dangerous thing that makes my stomach churn like the waves. “Sorry. I didn’t get time…”

“It just tickles.” I smile. Then remember, “What did you mean just now? About me?”

He ignores me again, ducking into the backseat for a literal basket. I wonder how many girls had seen the same basket before, been on this very same date. It wasn’t my right to feel this grip of possessiveness and I try to shake it off.

“C’mon,” he holds his hand out and when I take it he shoves both into the pocket of his hoodie. He was cold.

“Are you sure-“

“When I-“

We both stop, laugh.

“You first,” I say.

“Uh, I was just saying I’ve known you for years and you’re always the smart no-nonsense one. Never thought you’d spare me a second glance unless it was to judge me-“

“Hey I’m not judgy“

“You’ve never judged me?” He raises a brow.

“Well maybe once or twice. Usually because you were being very obnoxious-“

“Exactly,” he laughs. “I didn’t expect you to come up to me and be interested.”

“Well…” I try to come up with something to say but that wave of emotions threatens to overtake me again. Push, push it away.

“Well?”

We pause some feet away from the waves. At this point even I’m starting to feel a chill and I worry Harry’s freezing.

“Well I was intrigued.”

“Intrigued,” he repeats with humour. “Wanted to know what the fuss was about?”

“I wanted to know,” I turn to him and extract my hand from his so I can wrap them behind him. “If the rumours were true. And I can say they made you out to be more of a fuckboy than you are.”

“What?” His body stiffens slightly.

“Yeah you’re kinda sweet.”

He shakes his head, “YN I thought you were smart!”

“What!” I laugh. “I can’t help but point out what I see-“

“Ah but,” he lays a finger on my lips to shush me and they’re frozen. I try to say something about how cold he must be but he stops me. “Ah ah. No. What you observe is an act YN. I thought you would see I’m just trying to get into your-“

“But,” I shush him this time by putting my finger to his lips and an excuse to draw closer to him to lend my warmth.

“No I-“

“Ah ah!” I pinch his lips closed with my hand accidentally giving him duck lips and it takes him by surprise; he jerks back and neatly topples over. Which of course gets me laughing.

“Jesus YN!” He laughs on the floor.

“Why did you fall over!” I try to pull him up but he yanks me down as I expected. “Shit it’s chilly. Aren’t you cold?!”

“Not anymore,” he wraps a hand around my waist and I can’t deny laying on top of him like this makes me forget the cold.

“See,” I tsk. “I see right through you.”

That sobers his smile and mine fades with it. Did I say something wrong.

“It really is chilly though,” I quickly change the subject. It’s not graceful but I manage to stand up on my own and so does Harry, a shiver going through him. “See!”

“No that’s just,” he wraps his arms around himself. “Being around you.”

I groan. “Cheesy. I’m sorry here-“ I try to take the jacket off to hand him but he refuses, picking up the basket that he’d dropped to the ground.

“Keep it on. Let’s have a car picnic.”

“Yes!” The guilt lessens a bit. “Okay! Let’s do that.”

He smiles at me and extends a hand, I grip it and try to heat it up by shoving it up his larger sleeves.

“That works,” he laughs.

He opens the backseat so I slide in without a second thought. When it’s a bit cramped he moves the driver and passenger seats forward and it gives us a comfortable amount of space.

“I’m sorry,” I apologize again. “I wish I brought my jacket this really was all very nice-“

“Stop,” he says. He begins pulling out wine and perfectly wrapped sandwiches. It’s adorable but I say nothing lest it bruise his masculinity again. “It was lame I knew how cold it was.”

“Are we drinking from the bottle?” I point out.

“Ah damn,” he swears. “I forgot glasses.”

“That’s alright!” I take it from his hand and begin opening it. “Free wine I’ll take it! My parents are really anal so I could never steal liquor and have them not notice.”

“So that’s where you get it from,” he teases.

“Get what?!”

“The,” he waves his hand around me. I take a swig now that I’ve gotten it open and raise my brows. “Y’know! You’re very particular. I imagine you’d be like that as a parent.”

My heart does a weird stuttering thing hearing his opinion of me as a parent.

“Nevermind,” he takes my silence as offence and accepts the bottle. He makes a face once he takes a swig. “This is disgusting. I can’t drink this.”

“Not more disgusting than that beer you drank at last weekend’s party.”

“It was the best thing there.”

“It was the only thing,” I say. “But you should be careful since you’re driving. Wine gets you drunk a lot faster.”

“See,” he hands the bottle back to me. “This sort of thing.”

“Being responsible?”

I feel a small leak of self-consciousness drip in. And with it the leak expands with other emotions I’d shoved down tonight. I blink it back with another swig—the plan would be to get drunk and forget the evening happened.

“Kinda. Like just being sharp.”

It soothes a little. Sharp was better than being called responsible at age 17. Jeez.

I take another swig before we split sandwiches and talk about school. We talk music and movies, about graduation. I try not to look surprised at his grad plans while he’a not surprised at all by mine.

But talking about it all plus the wine, it sinks me deeper into my feelings. How the home I would leave would be something I could never come back to. Nan would never be a few streets away ever again.

“Is it just me or is it getting cold in here now too?” He asks. By now I’d given him his jacket back and I was wrapped in a blanket with half a bottle of wine in me. But even that didn’t hold the cold at bay.

“Yeah, I was trying to ignore it.”

“Soo you can stay here with me?”

“I-“ I go to flirt back. But staying here meant I wouldn’t have to go back home and remembering home reminds me of the reality of my life.

“YN?” He asks with a scrunch to his brows.

“Hm?” I don’t look at him. “Sorry. Yeah?”

“Uh I was just saying…” he deposits the half empty bottle that I’d basically drunk alone into the front console. This whole time we’d gotten closer to the other, his hand resting on my thigh as we talked. But now with nothing between us he inches to close the gap. “We could keep each other warm.”

He tucks my hair behind my ear and I smile into his face. It’s an open book telling his desires for tonight. I cup his cheek, he was sweet.

He kisses me and the gnawing feelings in my chest snaps. In seconds I’m climbing over him, straddling his lap as he responds, his fingers dig into my thighs and the sounds coming from his throat only urges me to get closer.

“Woah,” he chuckles when we break for air. And a part of me flushes but I’m too drunk to care.

I lean in again, my lips on his neck. His breath hitches and I smile against his skin.

His hands travel everywhere. My thighs, hips, and stomach. They slide up the front of my shirt and I gasp at the cold.

“We really need to warm those up,” I whisper.

He looks like he wants to make a joke but I press our lips together before he can. His fingers continue inching up, brushing under the band of my bra. I want him to go faster, I want him to lay me bare and make me forget. Get this fucking noise out of my head and these feelings out of my body.

I can tell he’s turned on but he’s not moving fast enough for me. I roll my hips into him and just like I needed him to he reacts, a short gasp and his eyes shut as he swears.

I do it again and he leans forward, pulling the neckline of my sweater over my head. His lips find the crook of my neck and shoulder, doing the thing that always unravels me.

He worships whatever part of me his lips can reach with one hand firmly on my neck keeping me close.

“You’re insane,” he mumbles against me. “Sometimes I-“

He shakes himself out of his monologue because his hands are trying to unbuckle his jeans. And in the split moment we’re apart the chill in the car settles against my bare shoulders and it’s like reality settles with it. Like a blanket I kept trying to shed.

Suddenly I’m overwhelmed. When he pulls me back to him to lay me down I push against his shoulders, dismounting.

“YN?” I don’t look at him but I know he’s got his brows scrunched together in confusion. I myself was confused. Claustrophobic and confused.

The only option is to rush outside trying to escape the feeling. It was fucking crazy—me in a bra and jeans but I have to get away from him before he sees me unravel. Before everything I’ve been pushing down surfaces.

“YN!” He shouts as I leave his car. Then a third time. I can hear the panic creep into his voice.

My head swims, the world spins around me. I want to lay here and let the cold creep in, let the waves lap over me until they’ve drowned me. Or maybe the waves inside of me make me feel like I’m drowning.

The first sob breaks through. Oh god, what was I doing.

I press my hands into my face and cry with a force so strong it feels like my chest has cracked in half. I cry for my Nan leaving, for grandpa and everything he suffered, for those he left behind, for my father and the relationship he’s never kept. I cry for me. I want to give it all to the water but it keeps coming out of me.

“Fucking hell YN!” Harry’s finally caught up to me. “What-what’s going on? Are you-“

As soon as his hand touches my shoulder I crash into his chest, maybe too hard, but he holds me up as he stays upright. And suddenly I’m cold as shit and I can’t stop shivering and crying and I feel fucking ridiculous.

Way to go, couldn’t have had a sexier moment.

He doesn’t say a word but wraps the jacket he brought with him around my shoulders. It’s heavy and smells like him, and surrounded in it again my system seems to slow down.

“I’m sorry,” I say into his chest.

“No I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out-“

“Wasn’t you.” I say but I can’t even look up at him. This was way too embarrassing. I know I looked a mess.

“Let’s just get back into the…”

I follow him. He tucks me back into the backseat and crawls in behind me.

“Talk to me,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “Did I do something?”

“No.” I wipe my face. He somehow finds a kleenex and hands it to me. I wipe myself down before speaking again but he’s patient. “Sorry. I just have a lot going on at home and it all just…”

When I don’t finish he shifts closer. I look up at him and I’m surprised at what I see. His mouth is turned down and there’s a crease between his brows, but his eyes watch me like I was a fragile puzzle he wanted to figure out. I was expecting him to look at me with fear or disgust but there’s none of it.

Oh god, it hits me in the wrong place. I pitch forward and he catches me against his chest as I cry some more. Somehow there were always more tears.

He rubs my back. “Hey talk to me, I know we’re not…you can talk to me.”

I shake my head. “It-it’s too much. I can’t talk about it.”

“Why not?”

I sigh, lean back, try to discreetly wipe my nose but there’s nothing discreet in this intimate space Harry’s created. More intimate than when we were making out. His eyes are burning into me waiting for me to give him the key to help him unlock all of this.

But how do I tell him I didn’t have the key myself. That I was just sad and I didn’t know what to do with all of it.

“My family…there’s just a lot going on. My Nan’s moving away and just…a lot of changes. I can’t talk about it-“

“Then how do I make you feel better?”

I’ve got to stop being so surprised but I genuinely never thought those kinds of words would ever come out of Harry’s mouth. We were hooking up and yet he wanted to help me—he wanted me to talk.

“You can’t.”

“I believe I can,” he insists.

“I’m just…you don’t have to.”

“I know,” he lifts my chin and wipes the tears away. “Just tell me what you need. I’m here.”

“I just need…” I look at him. Study the soft curls sitting atop the angular cheeks and the steady curious eyes. His wonderful face on his intoxicating throat on his beautiful body. “You.”

He blinks. “Really?”

“Please?” I reach for him with tears in my eyes but he’s already there. This time he lays me down gently and even though it’s an awkward fit by the time he’s peeling layer after layer off of us the place doesn’t matter. Just that he’s here, he sees me hurting, and he’s doing whatever this was to help me feel better.

I close my eyes and make myself be present in my body, feel his taut arms and his shoulders, the softness of his lips and how it feels when he moves against me. When he caresses me and holds me like a flame against a draft, careful but cherishing.

And later, we maneuver ourselves so that we lay together. My body is mostly draped over his and the blanket he brought lays over both of us. And normally I would think of how many other girls this blanket has seen but I feel too serene. I feel tucked in and protected in his arms.

“You’re amazing,” he whispers. He kisses the top of my head. “And you never back down from a challenge. I’ve seen you be the smartest at our school, work your arse off every year. You’re gonna have such an amazing life after you head off to uni. You’re hurting right now but life will change for you.”

His words take mine away. I don’t know who this sensitive and sweet boy is who’s holding me together. As a few tears escape my eyes and down my cheeks he kisses them away.

“Salty,” he laughs.

“Probably good for all the sweetness right here,” I tap at his chest. He swallows and the look in his eyes tell me a story that scares me.

“My parents must have done something right—this is just being decent YN.”

“Mmm,” I kiss him. “You tell yourself that.”

“Is that a smile?” He asks. And it is, I’m smiling at him. “It’s a smile! Look at that. My car won’t even need the headlights on the drive home.”

“Stop,” I cover my mouth.

“No you stop,” he tugs my hand away and kisses my smile which ends in a clash of teeth but I don’t care.

And then suddenly I do. Because I feel something. Something endless and scary and exhilarating; the feeling of falling.

Don’t do this, I urge my heart. He’s not the kind of guy you fall for. That was the first rule in hooking up with him. This was just fun.

But I can’t deny this stopped being fun the moment he led me back to the car. The moment he tried to fix me.

“Maybe we should get home,” I say casually. “I sort of left everyone high and dry. I don’t want them to worry where I’m at.”

“Oh yeah I-shit! It’s already 10?”

“What!?” I look at his watch. I was surprised my parents hadn’t called wondering where I was. I’d missed dinner. Both dinners.

“Okay wait here.” He pulls on his clothes and leaves me some privacy as he begins adjusting the seats upfront from outside. The cold air gives me goosebumps but in that moment the only thing that was scaring me was this smile that wouldn’t leave my face and the inevitable heartbreak of falling for Harry.

But it felt so real. He felt so real.

But he’s not. He’s not even your boyfriend. He just felt bad and he was decent enough not to drive you straight home.

Suddenly my heart and my head clash and despite his reassuring hand on my thigh and his lingering kiss goodnight I walk to my door with a whole new problem on my plate. A problem that scares me more than I realized.

Present:

I guess Harry’s capacity for kindness also equalled in his cruelness because he had made sure his actions hurt me in the last few weeks. Until I took it into my own hands.

I can’t help but think though, whether either of us even won?

“Well have you thought how that arrangement’s gonna go?” Rhia asks.

Rhia was my bestest friend and we’d known each other since we were kids. She was there at my highest highs and lowest lows and today we sit at lunch and discuss uni. Now that her acceptance letter’s come in for her dream uni, for the first time in our lives we’d be so far apart it wouldn’t be a bike ride over. It would be a couple trains at least.

“Obviously we see each other during the holidays,” I count off on my hand. “And then we have to make summer plans-“

“Who’s making summer plans.” Our other friend Juni joins us. “I miss summer. I miss spring. I miss the sun.”

“It’s right around the corner.” I reassure her. It had been a particularly gloomy winter—especially for me.

“Well I’m mad about it now. Look, I even dressed in florals to feel something.”

“Florals? For spring?” Rhi and I say in unison. By the time we finish the quote from one of our favourite movies Juni’s joined in.

“Woah,” someone calls from the table beside us. “Are you lot auditioning for something?”

My friends roll their eyes. I look amused but the fact that it’s Harry asking trying to be friendly makes my stomach curdle.

“Jeez babe you’re actually gonna put a curse on him if you keep staring like that.” Juni lays a hand on me. “I thought things were civil.”

“They are,” I huff. “We had a civil talk. Nobody’s mad at each other.”

“Lie,” Juni says and I can feel her make eyes at Rhia.

“Shut up I’m not mad. I’m just…I dunno. Confused. Annoyed at myself?”

“I thought you set him straight. Played the player,” Juni whispers. Rhia kisses her teeth. “Sorry!”

“I did. It felt good. And now it doesn’t.”

“Was he that good…y’know?” Juni eyes Harry at the table beside us.

“Shut up!” I shove Juni. “He was just surprisingly nice. I thought he’d be a fuckboy about everything but aside from his past I didn’t get those vibes at all. And then he kept…” I sigh. I wasn’t going to get caught in this vicious cycle.

“From what I heard,” Rhia whispers. “He usually is like that though. Sleeps with a rotation of girls and never more than twice in a row. And he never hangs out with them inside school and he never makes things official and…”

She trails off as Juni and I stare at her. She flushes.

“Someone’s been keeping an ear for the goss,” Juni teases.

“What!?” She glares. “After YN I just tried to gather intel. To help. He broke his pattern with her. I was surprised myself every time he found her at a party and she ditched us-“

“Hey I thought you were cool with that.” I say.

“I am!” She shakes her head. “I didn’t mean it like that! I’m glad you got your distraction. But now it just feels like he was more than he was worth.

“Like now you need a distraction from your distraction.” Juni nods.

“Tell me about it.” I grumble. I pop another carrot stick in my mouth and as I chew Harry turns his head and we catch eyes. He does a head nod and I flash a quick smile before moving my attention away.

I wonder if his heart races as much as mine. Probably not.

“Guys I think I do need a new distraction.” I announce.

“Ooh,” Rhia and Juni leans in.

“Someone who doesn’t go to this school though. I really want to keep it apart from my day to day life. And it’ll be a one-time thing. Like a cleanse.”

“Like a cleanse.” They echo.

“Well I can check with you-know-who for all the eligible guys at that other stinky school.” Juni says enthusiastically. She had a crush/situationship that went there. We called him YKW because she didn’t want anyone to hear about how often she talked about him despite talking to him 2.5 times.

“More like if he thinks you’re asking for yourself he might get jealous enough to ask you out.” Rhia laughs.

“Ooh.” I join in.

“Shush.” She blushes. “Maybe. It’s all in the tone. Sound innocent but aloof like you don’t know how the question might affect them. And you really are innocent because you’re seriously asking for a friend.”

I laugh loud at Juni. No wonder I managed to pull off my con with Harry in the computer room when I had friends like Juni feeding me these bits of advice.

I feel Harry’s eyes on me, my laughter likely ringing too loud.

“But who wants to be in a relationship at this point?” Rhia asks. “It’s like 3 months to grad and then we get to meet uni folks.”

“Yeah,” I risk a glance toward’s Harry’s table. He’s not looking. “Exactly.”

Harry POV:

Another Saturday night, another house party.

My mum had made a fuss about me never being home weekends so I’d been forced to have dinner with the family and make small talk while my sister smirked knowing I was itching to get out, and my parents barrelled me with question after question about unis and my future.

I feel like my head’s finally above water and I’m taking my first gulp of fresh air when I pull up to the party. I was late of course but that just meant everyone would be a little drunk.

My eyes scan the crowds as I walk through, greeting some friends. The person throwing it was our coach’s nephew who was a year younger than us but somehow cool enough to be in the fold. It also helped that getting along with him gave us more insight on coach during football season.

“You’re late,” Dana who I’ve known since preschool spots me first. “This is a first isn’t it?”

“Yeah yeah my parents were making a big deal about missing dinner.”

“My parents are in Manchester for drugs,” Akil grins. He was coach’s nephew and his parents both worked pharmaceuticals. They were away often enough on work trips so a lot of parties took place here.

“When aren’t they?” Someone asks.

“Surprised you’re not here with a pair of long lashes and boobs,” Dana smarts. Since we’d known each other so long she was just like Gemma always on my case about the way I “used” girls.

“Now c’mon Dana,” I give her my attention. “This shirt didn’t fit the boobs and I was running late for the lashes.”

She rolls her eyes, “Hardy har.”

“What about you?” I ask. “Anyone you’re seeing.”

“I wish,” she crosses her arms. “I feel like half the girls I could be seeing are still closeted.”

“How do you know?”

“I just know!” She says. “Like how do you know when a girl’s straight for you.”

“Touche.” I agree. “And the other half?”

She clears her throat but before she could say something Ray jumps in.

“The other half can’t stand her.”

“Piss off.” She flips him off. The rest of us laugh, used to seeing the two cousins insult each other most of our lives. “More like the other half’s already slept with Harry.”

“I’m getting a drink,” I call out as the accusations go flying.

I leave my friends and sniff out the drinks in its usual spot in the dining room. The house was nice, nicer than most of the homes we had parties at, and yet it wasn’t one of those places that were cold. It was lived-in despite the weird decor along the walls from all of the residents’ travels.

I’m filling up my cup from the keg someone procured when I notice who exactly is in the corner of the room. The seconds stretch as I hone in on her and the friend she’s always with. My blood pumps extra hard just to keep me upright and functioning.

I’d seen her a ton of times since that conversation. We’d even passed a few hellos when forced but I haven’t been the same since.

I had told myself it was one of those things that needed to fully leave my system. Like bad weed or a shitty flu. And I’d waited weeks but everything between, everything I felt, stuck stubbornly.

And now my body betrayed me every time I saw her. I wanted her to look at me and see her expression change. I wanted to ask her how things were, I was fucking curious. Curious. It was awful.

Her friend is using her hands to explain something to YN and I can’t see her face entirely but she looks unconvinced. I nudge a little closer.

“-says so. And! He’s 5’11.”

“So he couldn’t even make it to 6 feet?” YN asks. I hold back a smile.

“YN!” Her friend whines.

“I’m joking!” YN says. “That was a joke jeez I don’t body shame as long as they’re above 5’6.”

Her friend—I think her name was June rolls her eyes. “Ok that was funny but I don’t know why you have cold feet. Just go up to him! You don’t have to date him. Rhi made small talk with him for recon he thought you were cute! And plus…”

I stop listening when the pieces click together. I don’t know why I thought YN and I hooking up would get whatever it was out of her system. Maybe because she never hooked up. Yet here she was being set up with someone else?

YN begins to turn and I move fast, like I was on the field, to get out of there.

“Were you brewing your own beer?” Akil asks.

“Are you timing how long it takes for me to get a drink?” I snap. “Jeez.”

“Easy,” Akil eyes me.

“Someone needs something stronger.”

I ignore them and take a slow breath. That was unwarranted. I don’t know why I was being so irritable with my friends.

In a few seconds my watered down cup is empty and I’m following the crowd to another part of the house.

“Oh Harry!” A pretty voice calls as we settle in. “I didn’t see you tonight—thought you weren’t showing.”

“He was just late don’t worry,” Dana says sweetly as…I think her name was Britney, sashays into the room.

“Yeah I was late,” I glare back at Dana. She didn’t have to talk for me. Then I watch her give Brit the once over and I realize she could be jealous.

“Yeah well we haven’t talked since that night and I just wanted to say,” she stretches up to my ear. “It was really fun. You always know exactly what I need.”

She stands on her toes and sets herself back down, bouncing a few times before cocking her head. Meanwhile I’m trying to place her.

I had kept pretty to myself the last few weeks. I try to remember the last time I had slept with someone and then it comes to me: the night YN and I had that talk after school.

“I had fun myself,” I hold my hand out and she steps inside of it, her arms going around my waist immediately.

“I thought you forgot,” she laughs.

“How could I forget?” I murmur, waiting for that rush of endorphins but my heart’s just not in it. I don’t want to be here chatting her up. I didn’t want to have to listen to her most of the night while my mates hung out. I didn’t want to find a room with her or drop her home. Fuck…I didn’t want to be with her.

That’s never happened before. My body feels foreign, like it’s going into shutdown as the realization slithers through me.

“Have you met Dana before?” I change the subject. I wanted her off of me. Asap. I didn’t care to be around her.

“Dana?” She looks over at Dana, confused. “Uhm no?”

“She’s great.” I say as Dana shoots lasers at me. “I’ve known her since preschool. But she has a bite so be careful what you say around her.”

“Oh,” Britney puts some distance between us as she looks between Dana and I. Good. “Okay? Hi?”

“Hi. Don’t mind him. I think he got drunk off one drink.” Dana glares.

“Unless you’re into biting,” I continue. But I get cut off when Akil calls Brit’s name.

She whips her head at the sound of her name. Akil’s waving. “Does your brother still do those custom decals Brit?”

“Uh yeah?” Poor Brit, she’s confused as shit.

“Yeah? Uh come over here so we can talk. Don’t wanna yell…” Brit abandons us happily and walks over to Akil. I mouth thank you to him and he flashes me a grin that’s up to no good.

“You dick!” Dana swings her hand into my ribs and I fold. “Why would you do that?”

“Ouch! What!?” I rub the sore spot. “Is she not part of half those girls you were talking about?”

“No! Why would you—oh my god.”

I shrug, “I thought she was. I was trying to introduce you two.”

“Do me a favour?” She asks. “Never ever ever play cupid for me. Ever. Don’t pull that shit again.”

I hold my hands up and settle back. Brit was gone at least but the low thrum of anxiety is not. I needed to step away.

“Maybe I need another drink. You want something?” I ask her.

“Really? Didn’t you drive here?” I raise a brow at her. I knew my limits. She shrugs. “Fine I’ll just have whatever you get for yourself.”

I ruffle her hair just to annoy her more as I leave. In all this uncertainty and change at least I still had my friends to banter with. But even then, I was being a dick earlier.

I use the toilet and then grab drinks. On my way out I spot YN and it must be the bloke June was talking about because he looks 5’11 and interested in YN. He looks familiar from the back but before I can focus on who he is I catch her smiling up at him saying something. I feel a twinge in my chest, I made her laugh when we were together. Was it me or did she just laugh at any joke? Maybe what we had wasn’t as unique as I thought.

“Harry.” Someone materializes beside me. It startles me out of my trance and I nearly spill my drinks. “Sorry!”

“You’re light on your feet,” I try to regain composure. And much shorter too. “Hi…June.”

“Eee.”

“Huh?” I stare at YN’s friend. Was she okay?

“You said June.”

“Yeah?”

“My name’s Juni?” She puts her hands on her hips.

“Oh shit sorry. I…sorry.”

“That’s alright,” she shrugs and her cutting look is gone. “Why are you staring at my best friend so hard?”

I stare at her. It made sense suddenly, that this was YN’s best friend. She looks over my shoulder and her face brightens and suddenly somebody else joins our circle.

“Hey what’s going on?” Another one of YN’s friends.

“Just talking to Harry. About why he’s staring lasers at YN behind her back.”

My mouth opens in surprise; I feel cornered.

“Strange from a guy who plays girls like guitar and then moves on like a one-hit-wonder.” Her other friend says.

“Nice one.” Juni nods. “Spot on.”

“I don’t know what you two are on about,” I take a step away from them. It felt like an ambush. “I was just looking in that direction-“

“I’m not an idiot.” Juni rolls her eyes. “I’ve seen the way you watch her in Chem. I sit in front of YN and every time I turn to talk to her i just see you like a freak in the back.”

“Is it a crime to look jeez.”

“Obviously not but listen, we all know you’re a fuckboy. And you…fuck around. We don’t know if it’s cuz you’re not used to rejection or what? But leave her be. She’s going through enough-“

“I know.” My defences rise. I knew now after some digging what she was going through. I haven’t approached her or bothered her as much as I’ve wanted for the last few weeks. I’ve wanted to do more than just look at her like it was a demanding need and I had kept it to myself.

I had been selfish and I know she was going through stuff. Grief and all that. I had no plans to fuck with her.

“Do you?” Her other friend asks.

“Yeah. Her grandpa and stuff. I get it. I’m not trying to…fuck around. You guys are like her bodyguards or something?”

“No just friends,” Juni crosses her arms. “We care about her.”

So do I, I almost say with my defences so triggered. Luckily I have enough sense to keep my mouth shut. Or maybe not. I’ve finally placed the guy she’s talking to and I can’t help but play the upper hand.

“If you cared about her you wouldn’t be hooking her up with a pothead that’s slept with a teacher and been arrested at least once for carrying.

Juni’s mouth drops and her other friend is staring at her.

“You’re lying!” She says.

I turn to look at YN who looks like she’s relaxed and having fun. My stomach turns. “I’m not. But don’t interrupt her now—she looks like she’s having fun.”

“But—how—what!” Juni looks at her friend. “Did you know?”

“Well I know he smokes sometimes but I-“

“Oh my god.” Juni looks mortified.

“I should go.” I should be leaving with satisfaction but all I can think about is YN maybe sleeping with this guy and I just feel sick.

“No you can’t!” Juni says. “Tell me what you know!”

“I did.” I raise my glasses. “My friends are waiting though. Nice talking June.”

Her mouth drops open again as I turn to leave to her shouting, “Juni you prick!”

I can’t deny that that didn’t bring me a bit of satisfaction.

Your POV:

He was incredibly attractive and I might have even blushed when he smiled at me with his full attention but other than that…I’m a bit bored. The thing is he hasn’t detached from his group of friends for one minute and even though he includes me in the conversations—and they are a very lighthearted and funny group, a lot of their inside jokes go over my head and it’s not because of the shots I’d done to get over my nerves tonight. And I’m pretty sure a couple of them are already high.

“And then he blackflips off the pole and-“ the friend telling the story starts laughing too much to finish and I smile along as Drevan shakes his head at me.

“They like to tell this story to pretty girls so they all know I’ve had concussions.”

“Concussions?!” I ask. “Like, multiple?”

Drevan shrugs but his friend hears me.

“Yes! He lands in the bin on his head and knocks himself out-“

“It was actually scary at first,” someone else pipes in.

“I would be shit scared.” These were clearly the type of guys who thought edging death was hilarious. Doubts creep in about whether Drevan was even hook-up material. How did Juni find this guy appropriate?

“I would be too if I was conscious.” Drevan says and everyone laughs.

As they talk about something else, Drevan snakes his hand around my shoulder and I smile at him. He winks and goes back to listening. At least he smelled nice.

My eyes wander the room spotting classmates and familiar faces. Rhia’s in the far end of the room and she gives me a thumbs up, I throw a grimace back. Her brows tighten and I shake my head subtly to tell her not to worry.

I hadn’t seen Harry yet, as hard as I was trying not to look for him. I knew he was probably in some dark corner with a new girl and I shouldn’t care because I was here with someone else.

“Hey YN how come we don’t see you around a lot?” One of his friends ask. All the names were thrown at me so long ago I can’t remember any of them.

“Oh I uhm,” I hate being put in the spotlight like this. “I’m just not a regular at these things.”

“I heard you’re smart as shit,” one of them says.

“Yeah I heard that too,” Drevan nods, impressed.

“I guess yeah,” I shrug. “I work hard to get good grades.”

“Good for you,” Drevan says. “So do you…do any…extracurriculars?”

I just know his definition of extracurriculars is not mine.

“Like do parkour onto the unstable bins at the back of school?” I ask.

“Nah,” he grins. “That’s funny though. I mean do you smoke or…”

Once. Rhia, Juni, and I had begged Rhia’s brother to let us have some of his stash last summer. We’d worn him down with our whining and he agreed to it if we stayed inside until we were sober. And we did, it was one of the highlights of last summer us giggling at everything and watching our favourite romcom while ordering takeaway and eating like we were 13. It was one of those days my life’s worries were able to slide away and I could just enjoy being a teen with my friends.

“I’ve dabbled,” I stay vague. “But it’s been a while.”

His eyes light up. “Want to join?”

I look around the group and the idea of swapping something between their lips to me—I’m sure they were fine but I didn’t know them and it makes my stomach squirm.

“Ehh I’m not big on swapping with everyone—no offence I just-“

“Yeah yeah no worries—I’ve got an uncle who’s like a germaphobe.” Suddenly he’s reaching into his pockets and comes up with a contraption. There’s weed and papers and some other stuff and it makes me laugh. “What?”

“It’s like a lab in your pocket,” I laugh. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“There’s enough to go around.” He grins. “So this one’s really concentrated but maybe that’s a bit much ehm…usually my line is I’ve got one for lovers and one for dreamers.”

Like I’ve summoned the devil, Harry appears in the doorway. I glance back at the group quickly so he doesn’t notice me watching him. Shite.

“I’ll take the lovers,” I shrug. Whatever that meant I figured the one for dreamers would get me more stoned which I’d rather not do here. Not that the one drag I plan on doing could affect me much.

“Yeah?” He raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah,” I smile. He starts to roll it up for me and it’s tighter than a Victorian woman in a corset. I’m sort of mesmerized at how adept his hands are at that. I fear I might have been led on by an actual stoner.

“What’s going on here?” Harry lazily makes his way beside me, hovering over where we sit just as Drevan holds it up to me.

“Heyy Styles c’mon over here!” They do a bro hug and I’m instantly irritated. Of course they know each other. “I was just letting her inspect my work before she takes it-“

“YN?” Harry looks at me and his eyes pierce me to the spot. “YN’s gonna smoke?”

“Yeah!” Drevan puts his arm around me again and unlike before I want him to take it back. “She chose the lovers special man—she’s into it!”

“Really?” Harry smiles. “YN I didn’t know you were into this stuff. I’ve really underestimated you.”

I give him a sarcastic smile. “I heard you’re good at that. I’m not into it but I do it occasionally…”

“Occasionally?” Harry raises a brow. Ugh I hated him.

Meanwhile Drevan’s lit it up and passes it to me. “First?”

I take it and just to prove a point I put it to my lips with my eyes on Harry and inhale exactly how Rhia’s brother taught us. It comes surprisingly easy.

“I’ll take a hit too.” Harry’s eyes don’t leave mine. We’re locked in a challenge.

“Go ahead,” I hand it to him and a small thrill passes through me when his hand brushes mine, when I think about his lips being where mine had just been. I was so screwed.

“I love this guy,” Drevan says beside me, oblivious. “On the field Style’s a legend—he’s somehow made the most goals as a defence. I mean who does that!”

I raise my brows as Harry releases, “Styles not where he’s supposed to be? Now why doesn’t that surprise me?”

Drevan laughs and Harry’s mouth quirks. Drevan takes the spliff from Harry’s outstretched hand but not before being Harry’s number one fan.

“He’s actually a speed demon. Everytime I’m on the field with him I know my legs are done in.”

“That’s because you’re stoned at every game,” Harry says.

“True! I pass every piss test they make me do though don’t I?”

“I don’t want to know,” I put my hand up. “How that’s possible.”

“Yeah sorry sorry,” Drevan smiles. Unfortunately he’s really handsome but the more the picture of him comes together and the more he goes on about Harry the more I know I wore my best matching set for nothing. “Lady present. Did you want another before I pass it?”

“Yeah do you?” Harry eyes me and only because he said it and because I’m feeling nothing so far (my eventual downfall), I take another. I try not to inhale too much but I don’t know how to do a short puff. I hope I don’t regret it. The smell coming off was already a lot.

“Mate?” Drevan asks Harry. He shakes his head. What a snake!

Drevan passes it on and of course Harry decides to stay standing and talking with the group. Apparently a few of them are in a band and they’re trying to convince Harry to help them out. Pretty soon I’m zoning out and my stomach feels funny.

“I don’t know if I feel so great,” I tell Drevan quietly. So what if it looks like I’m whispering sweet nothings in his ear if someone like Harry was watching.

“Oh shit,” Drevan turns into me. “You should get some water. Lay down? D’you want me to help you find-“

“No,” I did not want to hang out with Drevan anymore. He was nice but a pothead. “I got it. It might just be cramps.”

He nods like he understand, “I’ve got two younger sisters. I get that. If you feel better or want some more just come back here okay?”

“Thanks,” I try to convey my appreciation with a smile but I might just look like I’m high.

I ignore Harry as I leave the small group but a hand on my arm stops me as I round the couch.

“Find me later if it gets weird.” He says in my ear.

I lean back so I can see his face but he’s entirely serious. His eyes search mine as I stare at him blankly.

“The weed. Find me later if you need anything.”

He lets go of me. What the fuck? What would I need from him? He wants me to find him later when he’ll have a girl draped all over him just so I can seem needy and he can feel needed. Ugh.

“Girly!” I hear Juni’s voice and nearly collapse into her arms when I crash into her right outside the room.

“Juni oh my god. I’m so glad you’re here where’s Rhia?”

“I dunno? She found some old friend she knew when she was like 6 or something and she’s disappeared to catchup or whatever.”

“Oooh,” I wiggle my brows.

“No it’s legit an old friend. She moved when they were kids or something.”

“Aw,” I sigh. “That was the weirdest-“

“I’m so sorry,” she holds my arms and takes me onto the steps. “I’m gonna kill that guy I swear to god.”

“What? Drevan? No! He was really sweet!”

“No! My guy. YKW. I was trying to make him jealous while he was taking the piss because he totally recommended the class stoner and I pushed you onto him without doing any research! I feel awful!”

“It’s alright! He was really respectful actually. Maybe my type if he wasn’t a pothead?”

“No. No YN do not go there. Apparently he slept with a teacher!”

“No!” I gasp. “Do you think he was their dealer?”

“Obviously! And they probably couldn’t pay so he set up a barter system.”

“How much do you think one round covers?”

We pause to think before cackling at the story we’d just created.

“We’re idiots. Class idiots.” Juni says as we wipe our tears.

“I love us.” I say and realize how true it is. “I love you Juni. Honestly I don’t know where’d I’d be without you. And Rhia. You guys have kept me so together this past year.”

“Aww,” Juni hugs me sideways. “What are forever friends for babe.”

“Like I feel like I’ve just been going through a shitstorm and everything is still changing so much! And I can’t figure anything out! And you and Rhia are like standing on either side of me just keeping me up. I seriously-“

“Jeez don’t cry!” Juni wipes my lashline. “I don’t want to cry if I’m going to tear YKW a new one.”

“You haven’t already?”

“No! I was busy being a creep in the corner watching you to make sure Sir Pothead didn’t do any funny business. I saw you smoke his weed though. You alright?”

“Yeah. Maybe I just need the toilet I’m feeling a bit nauseous.”

“Okay. Just call me if you need me alright?”

“I love you,” I tell her. I want to squish her against me but I start to feel really poorly. “I’m gonna go though.”

“Go!” She waves me off. “I’ve got some yelling to do.”

The walk to the toilet is a fog and I run the tap to splash my face. It feels extra cold so I dial it down but it gets too hot. Suddenly I want to cry.

“Breathe,” I tell myself. “Breathe breathe breathe breathe. Oh my god. Okay. Let’s go with cold water.”

I splash the tundra water on my neck and along my throat. It feels better-ish.

I realize I hadn’t turned on the light when I can’t even see my reflection.

“Stupid,” I laugh. I turn it on and immediately stop laughing. My face…it’s drooping. Am I having a stroke?

I pull my cheeks up with my palms and squish it into my face but every time I let go I look like I’ve lived another 30 years and gravity has taken’s it’s toll on my face.

“What the fuck?” I whisper to myself. I whisper it again because it sounds nice. It feels good to swear. I say it again, a little louder and I laugh because I have no idea what’s going on.

I squeeze my eyes closed, shake my face, and look back. I look somewhat normal. My neck looks splotchy though. I rummage through a drawer but other than a blowdryer there’s nothing to help me.

“You’re an attractive girl and you’re just feeling a little fucked.” I tell myself in the mirror. “You-“

“Hurry!” Bang. “Up!” Bang.

I jump out of my skin and turn to stare at the door. Did I imagine that?

“Hello!” Bang.

Another succession of banging and shouting to get me out of the bathroom. How dare they?

I fling the door open and the guy on the other side startles.

I lean in and poke his chest. “Rude. Fucking rude!”

“I need the toilet!”

“I am a lady using it that’s rude! You don’t bang on the door like a fuckass while I’m in there!”

“Okay!” He holds his hands up. “Sorry! I had to use it and you were in there for hours!”

“It was not hours!” I say but even I can’t tell. “You’re a liar too!”

“I can’t do this I’ve got to go, here look I’m sorry-“ he shoves something into my hand and scrambles away, locking the door behind him.

It’s a glass bottle and it feels deliciously cold.

I inspect the bottle but it looks like beer. A few swigs and I finally feel less flushed. Less agitated. This was nice. This was perfect. Maybe he was an angel in a miserable disguise.

“Mmmm,” I laugh. Maybe I needed to dance. I felt like dancing.

I pass a few crowds, some rooms; when I see dancing I slide in. I don’t know what’s playing but it feels like it’s coming from my heart and it’s spilling out from me. Like I was the speaker. I spin around a few times so everyone can hear it, so the whole room could have just as much fun as me.

“Oh fuck,” I swear as the spinning catches up to me. “Not a good idea.”

I crouch into a corner and try to be patient. Wait for it to pass. But every second feels like a fucking decade and I don’t have the time.

“Hey are you alright?” A nice girl with cartoon-like eyes asks me. I know her. I just can’t remember where.

“Are you?” I ask. “I’m grand.”

“You don’t look it,” she smiles awkwardly. “Can I help you up.”

“I can get up,” I say but my legs feel tangled and she helps me up without asking eventually.

“Can I take you somewhere? Your friends or?”

“No no relax, you’re so nice!” I pat her shoulder. “And you have amazing bangs. I wish I looked good in bangs. My Nan cut my bangs when I was 12, microbangs!? And I wished I was never born! My face looked like a fucking square like a piece of toast! Oh god I could use toast right now. With beans. Uhhhhhh-“

“Hey,” the nice girl leans me against the wall. “How about you stay here and I get you water?”

Suddenly I remember Drevan telling me to drink water. I’m sure I had water but I nod. Water wouldn’t kill me. Unless I was drowning. Which is funny because I used to swim competitively. Like if I was in a thriller my parents would know I was murdered because I would have died drowning. I smile to myself just as a water bottle is held out to me.

“You know plastic’s killing the earth,” I take the bottle. “Isn’t it funny we bottle water in plastic when it’s free flowing out there? Hey do you know how to swim? You look like you could-“

“Drink!” She urges but she blushes. “You really should drink the water. You might be drunk…or high. You’re too wordy for a drunk.”

“I don’t know what I am.” I say after drinking half the bottle. “Actually I’m alive.”

She smiles at me and she’s really really nice to look at. “You are alive.”

“Yeah! I love being alive. Do you want to dance?”

“I don’t dance,” she shakes her head. “Plus I have to get back…Um. It was nice talking to you.”

“Nooo!” I clutch her hand. Her hands feel incredibly soft.

“Ow!” She pulls her hand away laughing. “You’re really squishing my hand.”

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry!”

“Don’t worry. You should call someone if you’re here. And you don’t feel good.”

“No I’m great!” I show her a dance move. “See? I can call my friend Juni. She’s great. You should find her you two could be friends! But I’ll call her first.”

“Okay,” she smiles again. “See ya around YN!”

I didn’t know her name. Oh no! I look for her but she’s disappeared into thin air.

I go back to dancing until my legs hurt and I’m thirsty all over again.

I wander to the front of the house in search of drink but I’m distracted by the chandelier that looks like it’s made of stars. I wonder how that’s possible. I stand at the foot of the staircase staring at it, the light was reflecting off of one, two, three, four, five, six, seven-

“What are we looking at?”

Harry. His head is level with mine and he’s staring at the ceiling.

“That? Duh.” I point to the stars. “It’s bloody beautiful.”

“It is,” he chuckles and the sound feels like it vibrates through me. Like those steel pans you hit with a mallet and it reverberates. “I can see you’re in the full throes of your high.”

“You’re high.” I retort as he stands back to full height. He really was high.

“Not really. But you,” he laughs, “you really inhaled that thing.”

“And you didn’t?”

“Barely. If I’m getting high I don’t like so much thc. Fucks with my head a little.”

“So then why’d you do it Styles?” I mock Drevan. I don’t know why. I just remember it had grated on me a little and it feels good to say. Like swearing. But staring up at him starts to make me feel dizzy as he sways around.

“Harry.”

“Huh?”

“It’s Harry.”

Weirdo. “Okay. Harry. Why’d you do it?”

“Because you were doing it.” He says with a flash of his dimple.

“So you’re a copycat? A follower?” I taunt. “Monkey see monkey do?”

“As long as we’re the pair of monkeys.” He leans in and the smell of him envelops me. “Then yeah. I am.”

His words, his smell, his presence. Whatever it is I lean away from the much-ness of it. I don’t know what to say to him.

“Well I dunno who you’re cal—woah.” I lean too far back and underestimate how far away the stair behind me is. I land on my bum with a thump.

“Hey,” Harry grabs my arm a second too late.

“Bad reflexes,” I point to his arm but it’s too late. My stomach dips and twirls like a fucking roller coaster and his hand on my arm feels more inappropriate than it is. But his touch. God, it’s warm and strong and stable. I needed that. Craved it.

A small voice screams at me in my head and I tell it to shut up. What did it know?

“That’s my bad,” he lets me go. I want to shout at him to bring it back.

“Your bad what?” I stare at his hand that’s no longer on my arm. I want it back.

“My bad reflexes.”

“I just said that.”

“I know! I’m saying you’re right.”

“Of course I’m fucking right!”

I finally drag my eyes up to his face. Goddamn. He looks just like I did in the mirror; his face slowly drooping like he’s aged 50. Still got a full head of hair though. It’s kind of nice.

Not you being attracted to a 50 year old.

“What? Have I got something on my face?” Harry asks but I can’t stop staring. How can he look good with a sagging face? And he’s got no wrinkles. I knew time was feeling really slow but had we aged that much tonight?

“YN?” His face disappears from view and then I feel it again—his hand on me. Oh god. His hand’s on my face to lower it until I’m looking at him. Eye-level.

He’s crouched down in front of me and his eyes are pools I want to drown in. Which would take a lot of effort because I am a really good swimmer. Maybe I could fake drown. I zip through the possibilities in a few seconds. There were so many of them.

He says my name again but it sounds far away. Slow. Like he’s pronouncing every letter. His brows further—there! A wrinkle! I laugh but his eyes just fill with something…something that reminds me of the night I cried in front of him. When he just looked at me like…

“Your face,” I slap my hands down on both his cheeks and he balances himself on the bannister, nearly falling back. “It’s drooping.”

“It’s what?” He laughs.

I smush his cheeks up and try to fix it, not that it needed to be fixed. He was stupidly attractive always.

“Drooping! Sagging! I just need to push it up! I’ve done it before don’t worry.”

“YN,” his fingers circle my wrist and I stop what I’m doing immediately. Surely he feels how erratic my pulse is. Like a machine gun releasing into his finger.

Don’t look into his eyes don’t look into his eyes don’t-

Damnit.

Green and never-ending, a question I’m afraid to answer, an emotion that I felt myself but denied, the beginning of something I could not step into. I could not step into. I could not step into this.

With a gentle tug he’s removed my hands off his face and now, even worse, they lay on top of his.

Maybe…I could step into this.

“Talk to me, what’s happening?” He asks but again it sounds like a Tiktok video I’ve put into 0.75.

I can’t talk. My hands are in his but it feels like my heart’s there instead and like my mouth has travelled to the back of my head. He wants me to talk. Like I did that night. He looks at me like he cares. Like that night. He’s not supposed to care.

Why didn’t I take the high road that afternoon—my brain scrambles as the joke writes itself: I was taking the high road today whether I liked it or not. But I chose to be petty when we talked. Why would I want to hurt him? He cared. He wasn’t supposed to though.

“I thought weed was s’posed to calm you down.” I finally manage to get it out.

“You chose the wrong one for calming down.” He laughs. The sound washes over me.

“Huh? I’m not calm. My mind is a factory for thoughts. The production is endless I feel like I’m going to explode and everyone’s going to know everything in here.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” He squeezes my hands. I squeeze my legs. “Might be nice for top class YN YLN to join us mortals and share some regular thoughts.”

“Oh these are not regular. Fuck. Drevan should’ve given me a warning.”

He smiles fondly and I hate it and I love it. “He did.”

“What!?” I’m so confused right now. “Stop! I don’t like how I’m feeling!”

“Did you drink anything?”

“Yeah! Th-that miserable angel gave me…I dunno. He just gave it to me after being an asshat what was I s’posed to do!”

“I’m not even gonna ask,” he mutters and I feel the words through my hands. That are still touching mine.

“Why are you still holding my hands?”

“You don’t want me to?”

“No.”

He slips them away. But that wasn’t what I meant.

“No I want you to touch me,” I say. His eyebrows which looks one inch tall shoot up. I reach out to flatten them and they return to normal.

“Uhm,” he clears his throat. “Y-you do?”

I reach out to touch his face again because it just feels like it fits so perfectly in the palm of my hand. It’s warm and alive and a little prickly. But it feels so nice. He feels nice. I want him to touch me too. I nod.

“How?” He turns his face in my palm and it’s like bristles against my soft skin but then his lips press against my palm. I find it harder to breathe like all the air’s gone to my head.

He looks back at me and I want what his gaze has. I want every single thing they’re communicating. I felt like I could read his mind; we both took a hit of the same thing, maybe I can.

“Like that,” I whisper.

“Like this?” His fingers circle my wrist and he kisses it, exactly where my pulse continues on its kill streak. I don’t think I needed weed or anything because his kisses alone make me feel high. The kind of high I did with my friends. The fun high.

I can’t speak. I simply nod.

“Y’sure?” He kneels on the step below me and I unsqueeze my legs. His hands cage me against the step I’m on and he’s all around me, and even though he hasn’t touched me yet it’s like his essence vibrates out to touch mine. Like maybe they meet in the middle and create something delicate and bewitching.

“I’m sure,” I manage to say.

I feel perfectly overwhelmed as he leans into me and presses a kiss to my throat. But it’s too slow.

“You’re killing me,” I tell him when he kisses me again by my ear.

“That was your job,” he comes back to face me.

“It’ll be my job if you don’t touch me in the next five seconds.”

“Fucking hell,” Harry’s swear catches me off guard.

“What?”

“You say those types of things in my dreams. I never thought I’d hear them out of those lips of yours again.”

I don’t know what to say. My mind literally quiets. Finally. It feels sobering.

“I can’t give you what you want out here.”

Then he’s standing. He’s fucking standing and further away from me than before. How dare he! How-

Oh.

He extends a hand and I take it, I let him pull me up and with a hand to my back that feels like a pulse he leads me upstairs. And then up another flight. He walks like he knows the place and everything blurs until he closes a door behind him. My heart beats like an elephant stampede until he comes back to me and cups my face, looks at me in that exact Harry way, and kisses me.

I’m falling but I’m unafraid. There’s his strong and steady arms to catch me at the end.

We make our way to the bed and I feel it. That’s everything. I just feel the sounds and colours and emotions and touch, the air and the bedpost and the way he says my name against me. I feel it. I feel it grounding me.

“Wait,” when he pulls away I nearly launch myself at him but I feel too relaxed to even be mad. He’s perched on the bed with me between his legs. I keep my hands around his neck because I couldn’t bare to have them by my side. “Should we be doing this? You’re not really with it and-“

“I’m not bloody unconscious.”

“I know but you’re not in the right mindset.”

“I’m practically begging you to touch me Harry. You’re really slow for someone who’s meant to be a womanizer.”

“Hold on,” he puts his hands back on my waist and I relax marginally. “It’s a consent thing. I know my way around women perfectly.”

I knew.

“I consent. ‘Kay?”

“But you’re high and probably drunk? I don’t-“

“You’ve never slept with someone high?”

“Yeah! But you’re….you’re you!”

“What’s that mean?” I frown. I unclasp my hands and take a step back.

He runs a hand down his face and sighs. “Not like that. Come back. I mean you don’t normally do this sort of thing. It’s obviously the first time you’ve taken a hit from something this strong and…” all the words taper off as I cross my arms. “Okay! Nevermind! You’re alright with all this?”

“Yes. Yes a hundred bajillion million times. Do you want me to walk in a straight line with my finger on my nose?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “No I’m sorry.”

It’s nice, him apologizing. It thaws me a little. When I’m close enough he tugs me back by the jeans and unbuttons them slowly. Everything was too slow.

“What were you saying about begging?” He grins up at me. I liked when he was looking up at me.

“I said practically.”

His hands roam freely up under my tee and I feel like I’m melting. Like a literal scoop of ice cream on a hot summer’s day.

He fingers my bra and his brows suddenly come together. It’s very animated I almost laugh.

“Take this off,” he removed his hands from my body and tugs at the tee. I do what he tells me to, just wanting his hands on me again. When it’s a pile on the ground he leans back, cocking his head to the side.

“What?” I throw my hands up. “You’re gonna ask me just t’stare?”

“No this,” he leans forward again and uses the band of my exposed knickers to pull me forward. When I’m close enough he eyes my bra. “This was for him?”

A flush erupts under my skin and it feels volcanic. Some of it pools in my belly and the rest creeps up my neck.

The this is my one and only 2 piece set I’d kept for special occasions. Well a singular one before my ex broke up with me last year. It had seen the light of day once in between and tonight I had worn it for luck. It’s lacy and black and makes me feel confident. In front of Harry it makes me feel powerful.

He was jealous. Of course the one guy that sleeps with whoever he wants would be the jealous type.

“Maybe,” I egg it. Even though I am desperate for this night to move on I can’t deny the thrill of having him be jealous. It affirms the needy part of me that wanted to believe we had something different—the part rational me wouldn’t ever pay attention to.

“So you planned it all out?” He removes his fingers from my waistband and leans back again. “You were going to come here, in that, and sleep with…him?”

“Why not him?” I bite my smile but I barely feel what my face is doing. “If it’s too much for your ego I wore this for someone el-“

“No.”

He says it as a complete sentence. I am gagged but I try my best not to show it.

“I just don’t like the idea of it.”

“Well,” I step in between his legs. His eyes are so dark I have to think just to remember the colour they usually were. “This isn’t the first time so better get used to the idea.”

“But you’re here with me tonight.”

“I am…lucky you.” I can’t help the chesire grin from creeping in. I climb atop the bed, one knee on either side of him. This was taking too long. I needed him all over me.

He leans all the way back into the bed with a noisy sigh.

I lean in, “jealous aren’t you?”

“Do you like that?”

I lean further until I could smell his pulse. “D’you want me to like that?”

“Yeah,” he gulps. “W-would you ever be? Jealous?”

I kiss his throat. I want to bite it. Like a vampire. I resist.

“You’re not mine to be jealous.”

“Do you want me to be?” He asks so earnestly I lean back to see his face.

“Mine?” I ask. He nods. I did. I didn’t. I did. But I didn’t. “Mmmm don’t think you’re ready for that.”

“Ouch,” he says softly. His hands settle on my hips.

“Don’t ouch me. You’ve never had a long-term relationship and you run.”

“You’re different. You make me feel different.”

Same. But instead I ask, “And in three months time when we’re…gone and in different cities?”

“I’ll never stop wanting you.”

We fix each other with a stare equal parts frustrated, curious, and cautious. It was getting too serious—I didn’t want to ruin my chances of getting my needs met tonight. I clear my head and ease the tension.

“You’re jus’ saying this to get into my pants aren’t you?”

He plays along, “Is it obvious?”

“Yes. Now be a good boy and help me out of them.”

His mouth opens a little, honestly I don’t know where that even came from. I blame it on the drugs. He helps me out and when I’m only in the 2 piece he stops me.

“I’m never forgetting this night. Ever.”

“Shut up and get over here.” I roll my eyes. He was full of it.

His lips on me are like no drug anybody could ever hand me. They’re confident and unafraid, exploring every inch of me like a pirate looking for lost treasure. They make me gasp and beg and feel the entire universe and every single thing ever creates.

It leaves me untethered but he wraps me in his arms and I’m safe. I’m here with him. And for tonight, we’re together. With every move we build a universe just us.

H’s POV:

For the first time in my life I pray for red lights.

Every time my car stops I get to look at her in my passenger seat and I want to pinch myself. I can’t believe tonight was real. That she’s real. That even after everything, we got to have tonight together.

She’s got lowered inhibitions you just got lucky, a part of me says. And I know that. I know tonight was a one-off. She was never going to be this YN with me again.

Where I used to be afraid of this, of committing to her. I want it. I can’t imagine being with anyone else. When she said I wasn’t ready she was right but I didn’t want her to be. Maybe I had to change.

“Hey you’re home,” I say after being parked outside her house for a few minutes and just soaking in the last moments. It was warm in the car and quiet except for the low hum of the radio because YN had said it was making her sleepy. When she first sat in the car she had looked up at me through her long lashes for so long I had forgotten to turn the ignition on. When we realized she had laughed and leaned over to kiss me. Sweetly on the cheek. Like a girlfriend might.

I’d never wanted a girlfriend before.

It hurt knowing she might not even remember tonight. Or if she would it would be overshadowed by her other feelings. The feelings that came with baggage.

It was different seeing her so carefree tonight. I wonder if that’s how she was before all the stuff with her grandparents. And suddenly I’m mad at myself for not paying attention sooner. At her ex for hogging her for all that time. I imagine I met her earlier and could help her through the storms of last year.

God, I was becoming a simp. I look at her again, I didn’t care. Not if it was for her.

I open my door and go around into the street to open hers. As afraid as I was that her parents would find me outside with their basically passed-out daughter I just knew she couldn’t make it to the front door alone.

“Hey sleepy monkey, we gotta get you inside.”

“Huh?” She squints, blinks a few times. It was adorable and it makes something squirm in my chest. “Whatimeist?”

“Uhhh,” I look at my phone and notice the texts from a few people. “Half past 2 or so.”

“Oh god,” YN groans and covers her face with her jacket.

While she orients herself I check my messages. Akil had asked where I disappeared, Gemma’s asking me if I’ll be home for breakfast, and Dana asking me if YN was alright.

I owed it to Dana, she had found YN in a right state as she told me and that had pushed me to go looking for her where I’d found her in a daze staring at the ceiling lights. Thank god I had.

YN removes her legs from the car with a thump and then slumps over. I catch her this time and pull her up, closing the door behind her.

“You’ll have to help me a little,” I grunt.

“Mmk,” she mumbles. She wraps her arm around me and tucks into me and I take her to her front door.

“Keys.”

She paws at her jacket and eventually finds a pair.

“I don’t want to get you in trouble,” I whisper. “So I’m going to unlock the door and give you back your keys.”

“Why are you whispering?” She whispers back. “Huh?”

“I don’t want to get you in trouble!” I shout-whisper.

“Silly boy,” her eyes crinkle with a laugh. “My parents aren’t home.”

“Oh.” Suddenly the night stretches ahead.

“They’re travlingain.” She yawns. “You can sleepover?”

“No.” I couldn’t I realize with a wash of shame. Because waking up to her I don’t know what that meant. As much as I denied her claim about me not being ready deep down she was right.

She pouts and I busy myself with opening her door. She’s like a leech on me as I try to get her through and I end up inside with the door closing behind me.

“Drop me to bed?”

“You want to be tucked in?” I tease. She nods with a tired smile.

Who was I to deny such a cute face.

She leads me to her room, most of the house is too dark to see so I rely on her. Once in her room she turns on a lamp and sets about getting pjs.

“I’m gonna hate myself if I don’t,” she points to her face. “Ughhhh.”

“Glad I don’t relate.” I say but already I’m looking around her room. Every surface has something; I didn’t take YN as a collector but there’s piles of things everywhere. Seashells on her bookshelf, postcards on her wall, plushes on her bed, jewellery on her dresser next to miniature fruit figurines. I pick up a tiny pomegranate the size of my nail.

“I’m making them into earrings.” She says behind me. “My Nan likes that sort of thing.”

I didn’t expect her so fast. I turn and she sounds more sober and looks it too. Her face is freshly washed and she’s in an oversized shirt but only her legs peek out underneath. I recall the strength of them as they locked around my body just an hour ago, the sound of her and the feel of her—it was tattooed into a part of my brain.

But the YN presented before me is a lot like the one I see at school, and for a moment I get ready for her to kick me out. Accuse me of something. Go cold on me.

But she shuffles over and wraps her arms around me, lays her head on my chest. I slowly wrap my arms around her. The moment feels soft.

“Thanks for dropping me,” she says quietly. “I feel so fucked.”

“I know,” I chuckle. “You’ll be brand new in the morning. I made you drink a couple bottles of water before we left.”

“I don’t remember,” she mumbles tiredly.

“Let’s get you tucked into bed.” I say. She follows, and giggles the whole time I exaggeratedly tuck in every side of her. I love every second of it and I can’t believe it. If you told Harry of a month ago I would be doing this and having more fun than I’ve had with any girl I’d tell you to you were fucking with me.

“Stay? ‘Til I sleep?” She asks as soon as I finish.

I hesitate. I was so afraid a switch would go off any second, she would regret everything from tonight. I don’t realize how tense I am about it until a hand sneaks out from under the duvet and grips mine.

“Hey I just tucked you in!”

“Sorry!” She slips it back in with a shy smile.

“Fine,” I grumble and climb atop the blankets. At least this way I wouldn’t get too comfortable.

She turns to face me and we just watch each other in the warm glow of her lamp until her eyes flutter close. I wait until her breathing goes even and then I gently climb over her, kiss her goodnight, and leave. My heart chips further as I step over the threshold of her house. A little more as I drive away.

***YN:

I’m trying to remember which club I had tonight as I grab the textbooks I need from my locker for morning classes. My second period was so far away I just liked to get everything in at once.

The face that greets me as I close my locker door has my heart racing.

I wait for the familiar edginess but when I look at him I just feel confused. And a bit sad. Or that could be because he’s looking at me like I have the last Easter egg and I might share it with him for a prize.

“Harry,” I greet him.

“YN.” He says equally serious before cracking a smile.

He’s different. Friendlier? Or lighter?

“What?” I look around me. He raises his brows so I raise mine back. It feels silly.

The last time I saw him was at the party smoking weed laced with god knows what—I barely remembered the party after that which was entirely unlike me. All I could find was a text from Rhia asking if I’d made it home and when asked Juni had said she had left me looking fine and she couldn’t find me afterwards but she heard I might have been sick.

“Did you make it in alright?” He finally asks. “You got surprisingly fucked up Saturday night.”

I know he was there at the beginning. And I remember talking to him about something later, maybe the stars? It’s such a haze. But the way Harry’s looking at me makes my stomach turn; there was a possibility something could have happened.

It was weird waking up safely in my room with only a vague notion of how I got there. I remember someone waking me up and being in my room but I woke to an empty bed. An empty house.

Usually I slept at Nan’s when mum and dad travelled but I was still not talking to her much. The house felt emptier. My room felt different. My clothes from the night before had smelled like weed. It was not cute.

“Uh yeah I did?” Why was he talking to me so casually? I match his vibe in hopes of understanding the weekend better. “I didn’t have a hangover luckily. But I don’t think weed normally does that? I was incredibly hungry though. Like…I made a breakfast for five at least.”

Oh god and now I was blabbering. I was nervous! I don’t know if he had anything to do with Saturday night and I didn’t know how to act around him being so nice!

“Yeah well I think you had fun Saturday.”

I freeze. “What did I do? Please tell me I didn’t do anything embarrassing. I only remember bits.”

“Uh,” he falters. “Uh well I…I heard. That um, you were dancing and having the time of your life so.”

“Kill me,” I groan.

“That’s not my job.” He jokes but I don’t get it. His smile falls, his brows pinching together. It’s so unlike him.

“I don’t get it.”

“Nothing. Bad joke.”

“Right.” As the time ticks closer to first bell the hall we’re in crowds more with tired teens. “Is that why you stopped by? To ask about making it home?”

“Erm, not really. I guess…was just gonna ask if you were coming to football?”

“Today?”

“Yeah the game after school.”

“Isn’t it early in the season?”

“It is but we’re doing a scrimmage against our ‘favourite frenemies’. It’ll be good. You should come. Your dealer might even be there.”

I ignore the dealer comment. “Are you short a cheerleader Styles?”

The banter pauses as he stares at me and I nearly ask him if he’d hit his head over the weekend when he clears his throat, “Harry.”

“Huh?”

Another pause where he looks like he’s doing quantum physics in his head. “Nevermind.”

What the hell? My skin prickles as heat creeps in.

“So you’re in need of a cheerleader?” I say lamely, just to dial down the intensity. Something had to have happened right? Last thing I remember I had “walked away” with pride but a chipped heart and we’d been polite to each other in school. Suddenly he’s here being boyish and friendly, and I’m here like I skipped a chapter and I’ve got a pop quiz again.

“Are you volunteering?” He asks.

“I forgot my outfit at home. I’ll have to pass altogether.”

I sidestep him and start walking away.

“Wait,” he runs ahead to stop me and gets dirty looks as he intercepts the path of a few students heading to class. “What if I said….I’d like for you to come.”

I stare. Like perhaps he’s grown a second head. Because he sort of has. It was just as pretty but much nicer and it’s sort of terrifying.

Did I cry to him some more? Was he pitying me?

“Why would you say that?” I ask genuinely.

“Well uh, you heard about my playing, I’d like for you to see it.”

“So you need cheerleaders.” I echo.

He searches my face but he must not find what he’s looking for. Something slides across his features that I don’t catch fast enough but it makes my heart skip a beat nonetheless. This casual conversation felt precarious. I needed it to end until I had more context.

I raise my brows and it prompts him to actually respond.

“Nevermind uh that’s alright. I’m sure you’ve got books to read and clubs to conquer right?”

A speck of guilt lodges itself in my throat. “Something like that.”

“Well,” he shrugs. “I had to ask! I’ll just have to find someone who brought their pom poms to school today.”

“Good luck!” I call after him, kind of wishing he wasn’t walking away. But he was. And that’s when I realize why he was lighter. He’d been standing in front of me talking without that ego of his. And openly in front of anyone walking by and he didn’t care. Then I’d rejected him.

Ugh. Maybe I’d have to turn up to that game if I could. But before then I had to try as hard as possible to figure out what the hell happened the other night.

***

“You guys need to tell me what happened Saturday night. As much as you can remember. After that conversation Juni you and me. And I remember going to the loo. And then I remember talking to Harry maybe? Please tell me.”

“Shite.” Both my friends eye each other. “What’s led this on?”

“Harry! He was bring incredibly nice to me today. In public! I feel like something happened but I can’t bloody remember!”

“Well he did drop you home,” Rhia says so casually. I whip towards her and at the same time both Juni and I shout “What!?”

“What!” Rhia says defensively. “I didn’t realize you didn’t remember that part! You seemed pretty sober by then.”

“You totally missed telling that detail that night! How dare you let her go anywhere with that pig! Sober or not!” Juni breathes fire. I’m surprised because on Friday she didn’t hate him this much. What the hell happened Saturday?

“Well she seemed fine. I double checked—YN I doubled checked with you you were okay with that. You told me it was fine. He was just dropping you home and he wasn’t drunk!”

“Wait wait back up. Tell me everything.”

So Rhia tells me how I’d texted her I was leaving with Harry and he was dropping me. How she’d rushed to the front of the house to catch me—and she had. I was alone trying to get my arms through my jacket and failing. She had asked me if everything was okay, I’d told her I was still coming down from the high and Harry was taking me home. How I wanted him to.

Then apparently Harry had shown up with water for me. And Rhia thought that was helpful. She watched, shocked, as he helped me into my jacket one sleeve at a time like I was in preschool. Then she’d got up in his face and had him swear he’d take me right home. Even took down his number in case I stopped responding.

“So was I with him the whole night?” I ask.

Rhia and Juni shrug.

Juni contributes: “Well that girl that hangs out with them—bangs, really big brown eyes? She came up to me when I was alone and asked if I was Juni and she told me you were dancing in this room and you looked a bit sick.”

I groan. Harry had said something about dancing.

“I tried to find you but you disappeared. I was worried and tried to find Rhia but she disappeared!” Juni looks at her with an accusation.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to desert!”

“Yeah well then I got distracted and by the time I went looking for you again this one here told me you’d gone home. She failed to mention who with.”

Rhia rolls her eyes.

I hold my head in my hands. “Guys this is a nightmare. I am having massive regrets. Can regrets give you a hangover? I feel hungover!”

My friends try to reassure me as much as I can but it’s no use. I feel like my life is spinning out again.

As far as the pieces I could put together: after the loo I’d danced and Harry’s friend found me—I think I knew her from when I did swim, maybe her name started with an M? Now that I thought about it I do vaguely remember her asking me a question. Maybe that’s how Harry found me. Because of her. And then he took me home? I hope?

No that was the story I had to go with. Otherwise I would spiral. I repeat it to my friends and they confirm it sounded right-ish.

“But that was sweet of him right? To drop me off home and leave the party early?” I ask my friends.

“Yeah-“ Rhia starts to say but Juni holds her hand out.

“Don’t bloody go there. I forbid that.”

Me and Rhia look at each other. She shrugs and I tell Juni I wouldn’t.

I mull over everything the entire afternoon. Even during the club meeting after school, not really participating and getting asked if I was okay. Obviously I was not.

I do make it to the last half of the game and hope Juni doesn’t find out. It’s just something I feel like I had to do because he had asked so genuinely and I did owe him for taking care of me Saturday.

I find a spot somewhere where I can see and try to spot Harry. It’s not hard when he’s got the ball, legs pumping, headband pushing his curls back and a look of pure determination as he gets to the net and kicks directly….into the goalie’s mitts. The crowd groans.

“Isn’t he defence?” I ask someone beside me.

“It’s a scrimmage game,” they reply. “They play the opposite position for fun. He’s really good though he should be front all the time.”

He is. And it’s kind of…attractive? I understood Dreven’s fangirling. And why Harry was such a big name amongst the girls. I kind of got it now.

Speaking of Dreven I spot him on the sidelines. I shuffle behind someone so he doesn’t spot me.

As the minutes tick by Harry and his team score a few more goals that makes it even. With just a couple minutes left on the clock it’s a tie and everybody shuffles to the side of the field where our team get’s a penalty kick.

I stay with the stragglers on this side, bouncing up and down with adrenaline. I can’t believe I’ve never gone to one of these. I always had some test or club to be busy with. But this is clearly what brought the schools together.

Right before the final whistle Harry makes a perfect shot on goal and the crowd goes absolutely mad. People are shouting and jumping for joy, clutching each other and chanting his name.

Harry runs half the field and pumps his arms, clashing with a few of his teammates who jump around him. It’s funny and cute.

As his team huddles around him and they walk to the chants of our school to the sidelines a couple girls slide out of the edges. A couple go to some of the other boys, one in particular wraps herself around Harry and kisses him with quite the show. The crowd only gets rowdier while the ref blows her whistle.

I, on the other hand, feel emptied.

I watch his arm snake around her waist. Press her to him. Her hands clutching his face. It feels like it goes on for eons. Eons and a day.

When the horrid thing finally ends he lifts his hands to the crowd and they cheer him. Not just for being a winner but for being a womanizer too.

I was an idiot. He had been nice to me, sweetened me up this morning about coming here. That didn’t mean anything. That didn’t mean he actually cared that I was here.

And then the worst part of all. He shouts into the air and turns to his team but his eyes clash with mine as he does. He does a double take, and we stare at each other halfway across the fields. He looks like he’s broken into his mum’s makeup and made makeup soup and his mum’s just come home. I imagine I look like someone’s just turned all my makeup into makeup soup.

I had to get out of here.

Why did I come? Why didn’t i just stay after the meeting and finished up work. I could have gone my entire secondary school existence without ever coming to one of these stupid games.

I feel lower than I have in a long time. I feel homesick suddenly and I decide then it was time to go. Home. And maybe home wasn’t the empty house I was stubbornly staying in. Maybe I had to chuck my hurt and my ego out the window and go crawling back to Nan. She would help me sort this heart of mine out. This wretched thing that kept on going even after it took a beating.

H’s POV:

One moment I’m on top of the world; first game of the year and I’ve scored the winning goal. The next I feel like I’ve been caught red-handed.

I want to tear away from the boys. I want to go to her explain it away but I’m surrounded and I only catch a glimpse of her looking away and then leaving. Gone.

“Hey man where are you going!?” One of the guys asks as I break away. “We’re all going to eat!”

“I’ll meet you guys there! I forgot to do something!”

“Aw cmon!” They hurl words at me trying to get me to stay but I jog away. She’s disappeared.

I jog back to the building and my head swivels every hall I go down as I head towards her locker. I find her slamming it shut and hoisting her bag onto her back.

“Hey!” I finally reach her. “YN hey! I wasn’t expecting you at the game.”

Her mouth opens like she has something to say. I wait for the usual fieryness but she deflates.

“Yeah. Congrats. That was a great final goal. Very dramatic. And you found your cheerleader too. I can see why everyone loves you out there.”

Fuck. She was going back to the other YN, the one who acted like she didn’t care, the one who had stayed out of my league all throughout school.

I wanted the YN in the quiet moments in the dark. The one tucked into my arms with the look of curiosity as she looked into my eyes and right to my soul. Even the confused one from this morning who was hesitant but there was still a possibility I could win her over.

This YN had slammed the door shut.

“It was just for show.” I try to explain.

“The goal?” She squints.

“No. No the-I didn’t need a cheerleader. She wasn’t…it was just for show. After scoring the winning goal it didn’t mean anything-“

“It’s whatever.” She cuts me off. “God you don’t have to explain anything to me.”

“I feel like I do, I didn’t know you were coming. I didn’t invite you just to-“

“Oh my god!” She cuts me off again. “It’s fine! I’m…it’s whatever. It’s not like you’re mine or something. We hooked up like weeks ago, we already talked about all of this. You’re off the hook remember? No messy feelings to complicate our lives, especially mine?”

Yet her eyes water as she says it and she blinks until it’s gone. My heart feels like it’s drowning in those unshed tears. Her words are also the final confirmation; she didn’t remember the weekend. I would just be cursed to remember what we could have been by myself. I probably deserved it.

“I know.” I want to say more. But she shrugs and looks like she’s going to leave. “Look…”

She waits instead. It gives me enough time to rush through every single thing I wanted to say to her. Every promise I wish I could make her.

“I’m sorry.” I say instead. Sorry for kissing that girl, and for inviting her to see that. Sorry for not being able to tell her what I really want to say. Sorry that she was so true about what she said the other night: I don’t think you’re ready for that.

Her lips tighten. Without another words she turns to head out the door. This time I don’t try again. I just watch her and die a little inside.

***

It’s hard to find your flow again when you feel so irrevocably changed. The final 3 months of our final year fly by but as cheesy as it sounds sometimes it felt like one of those 2000s music videos where you’re standing still and everyone is rushing past you.

I still see YN around, and as weeks go by we go back to being in our own worlds. They no longer overlap like a venn diagram. She stops coming to parties and I try not to drive by her house any time I’m in her neighbourhood.

I hear she got asked to the school dance by someone. I carry forward my own stereotype of not committing and ask nobody.

On the outside my grades are still good and I continue to be a force on the field. I’m home more often for dinner and my family stops pestering me as much. When I go to parties I spend more time just hanging out with my mates than I do finding girls that lit a spark. It used to be that any girl could hold a candle to the last ones but now it felt like faking it when a girl whose name I barely remembered tried to seduce me into an empty room.

It’s like now that I’ve felt a true connection I couldn’t go back to just anything. Some days I hated it.

A part of me feels ridiculous because when I Google my symptoms most people just say it’s heartbreak. But how could I feel something like this when I never gave my heart away at all. When I’d kept it selfishly caged and insisted that I couldn’t part with it. Our English teacher had asked when teaching Romeo and Juliet is it better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.

I think I would rather have never loved at all.

***

TAG: @peachedfruit @eversincehs1 @loverofhsandallthings1d (taglist still open lmk)

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 60 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Your bachelorette outing and Bradley's bachelor party are both hosted by the same person, but they couldn't be more different. Spending an evening at home with Noah is reminiscent of your babysitting days, but now he's asking you some pertinent questions.

Warnings: pregnancy topics, swearing, smut, drinking, angst, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4500 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

Natasha was outside in her SUV on the driveway, ready to pick you up for your bachelorette outing. You refused to call it a bachelorette party since it was just the two of you going out for the evening, but Bradley made sure his best friend knew to spare no expense when it came to anything you wanted.

"It's just pedicures and pottery," you whispered against Bradley's lips with a smile as he held you close so he could feel your round belly against his body. "I'll be home in a few hours."

He grunted softly, kissing you a little deeper before releasing your lips. "We'll still miss you," he murmured, letting his hands roam along your hips while Noah sat on the area rug and worked on one of the new coloring books you picked up for him. "And don't overdo it." When Natasha started honking her horn, he let his forehead rest on your shoulder. "She's the worst."

You just laughed and kissed his cheek as you said, "She's the best, and you know it, Daddy."

It would have been impossible to dispute that fact. She was the one who took care of you when Bradley wasn't stateside. "Go have fun."

"Bye, Mommy!" Noah said, popping up to give you a hug when Bradley released you. He scooped his son up since he didn't want you lifting anything, and you gave Noah a kiss on the forehead.

"Have fun with Daddy," you told him, kissing him once more before heading outside to Nat's idling SUV. 

Bradley stood on the porch with Noah and waved until you were out of sight, and then Noah asked, "Can we get Mommy a coloring book?"

"Hey," Bradley said, nudging the door open while also making sure Skittles didn't get outside without her leash on. "That's a great idea, Bub. Maybe a Princess coloring book? You can give it to her for the wedding?"

His son looked so much like a tiny version of himself, and he had to stifle his laughter as Noah nodded stoically and said, "Yeah, she'd like that. I have so many great ideas."

Bradley took him back inside, and they ended up stretched out on the floor together. Noah continued with his masterpiece while Bradley started searching for options on his phone. After a few minutes, he found an independent shop that made coloring books with different themes based on photos that you send to them. "Do you like this?" he asked his son, holding up his phone.

Noah looked at the sample pages as Bradley scrolled through them. He nodded and said, "Mommy is prettier than that."

"She absolutely is," Bradley replied as he realized the wedding was in a week and didn't know if a custom book could even be completed in that short amount of time. "Let me see if we can get something like this for her. If not, we can always save it for her birthday."

His son started to pout at the mere mention of having to wait longer for it, so Bradley started typing up a message to the owner of the shop, hoping that he'd be able to explain that it was for his wedding. Once that was done, he checked the time and asked, "Do you need a snack before dinner?"

"Ants on logs," Noah replied without missing a beat. Bradley had no problem with the healthy snacks you somehow tricked the two of them into eating, but he was always told he never got the peanut butter proportions right.

"Yeah, okay. I can try to make them the way you like-"

"Mommy left some in the fridge."

Bradley chuckled as he stood up, coaxing Noah to abandon his coloring project for the time being. "Of course she did. She's the best." Somehow even when you weren't here, you had everything covered.

-----------------------------

"Okay, so if you could ditch Bradley and marry a celebrity, who would you pick?"

You burst out laughing in the pedicure chair next to Natasha with your hands resting on the roundest part of your belly. "Who said I would? Even if I could?" She gave you a look followed by an eye roll before you said, "You'll laugh at me, so I don't even want to say my answer."

"Just say it," she prompted as you dragged your foot through the warm water.

You groaned and said, "I like all the older, DILF-y actors."

Natasha started cackling as you covered your eyes with your hands. "You have a type!" she said amidst her laughter. "And your type is Rooster!"

You thought back to all the time you wasted with Greyson and other guys your age and grimaced. "I don't think that was always my type. It's a more recent development, and I'm not mad about it." You moved your hand on your belly and added, "Boy suck. Men are at least marginally better."

"Well," she said, leaning a little closer to you like she had a secret. "You found a good one. Or rather, I kind of found you for him. But regardless, he's a keeper. Kind of because he has Noah."

"Mostly because he has Noah," you told her, and then both of you were laughing.

After your nails were painted a vibrant purple, Natasha took you out for dinner and let you eat until you were full. You could tell your body and appetite were changing by the day, but you refused to feel self conscious about it in front of her. The two of you were sharing a slice of cake for dessert when you said, "He really did plan almost everything for the wedding. All I did was help him pick out matching suits for him and Noah to wear. And I picked out some flowers and my dress, but that's it."

Natasha hummed as she took another forkful of dessert. "I'm telling you, he'll always be good like that. He's a planner. Very responsible."

You felt silly telling her what was on your mind, but you said it anyway. "He pays my credit card bill. Not that I spend a lot! I try not to! I usually just buy groceries and things for Noah." She nodded like your words weren't as startling as you thought they were. "I kind of wanted to surprise him as a thank you, but if I buy something, he'll see it on the credit card statement."

Maybe you should have been wary of the smirk that found its way to her lips when Natasha said, "What if I rally the boys one night this week and take him out for a little bachelor party?"

"Oh," you said softly. "You'd do that? Just something lowkey?"

"Super lowkey," she agreed with a nod.

You could easily imagine them going to Top Golf or out for some drinks. "I think he might really like that."

"Or.... and just hear me out," she said, holding up her hands innocently after handing her credit card to the waiter. "Or, you let me absolutely roast him for the night."

You studied her face; how bad could it be? She was Bradley's best friend after all. Even if she was giving him a hard time, she'd probably make it fun. "What did you have in mind?" you asked as the two of you left the restaurant and headed for the pottery boutique down the block.

"A few things I'm going to need your approval for," she replied casually. And while you worked on making yourself a mug that said Noah's Mommy, you listened to Natasha's not-so-lowkey plans for Thursday night. By the time your mug actually looked like a mug, you gave her full approval.

"I almost feel bad about this," you told her with a laugh.

"I don't."

-------------------------------

The following evening after Noah was in bed, Bradley set you up for a nice shower while he cleaned up the kitchen from the chicken enchiladas you made for dinner. When Nat called him, he held his phone to his shoulder with his cheek and kept working.

He answered the call and asked, "Hey, what's up?"

"Your bachelor party with me and the guys starts at six o'clock on Thursday evening."

He laughed in response. "It's funny that this is the first time I'm hearing about it."

Bradley could practically feel her rolling her eyes through the phone. "Just be ready to go."

"Ready for what?" he asked, knowing better than to just trust her with this. The dating app was one thing, and that had turned out great in the end, but he wasn't going to blindly go with her on this.

"Uhhh... just some stuff."

"Natasha."

"Bradley."

"What did you do?"

There was a brief pause before she said, "Just be ready for dinner, booze and some strippers."

With a deep sigh, Bradley closed his eyes and said, "I'm going to have to check with my wife-to-be about the strippers, Nat." You had to know by now that you had nothing to worry about, and he wasn't even all that keen on going to a strip club, but he didn't want you to be upset.

"She knows the plan."

He froze as he loaded the dishwasher. "She does?"

Natasha laughed, and Bradley swore he felt his skin crawl. "She does. Be ready for six o'clock on Thursday."

"We have work on Friday-" 

She already ended the call. Bradley finished cleaning up when he heard you getting out of the shower. "God damn it, Nat," he muttered as he turned off the kitchen lights and made his way back to the bedroom where you were all wrapped up in a towel.

"Hi, Daddy."

He groaned at your words and your little smirk. "Hey, Baby. Can we talk for a minute?"

Your eyebrows shot up as you held your towel around you a little tighter. "What's wrong? Is it something about the wedding? Did the marriage license not go through? We only have six days."

"No, no," he promised, reaching for you. "It's not that. It's... I just got off the phone. With Nat."

You looked relieved as you leaned against him. "Good. I was worried for a second."

Bradley didn't quite know how to approach this topic now that he was here. Natasha would be as tenacious as a junkyard dog about her plans, so he had to say something. "You don't have anything to worry about."

You laughed softly. "That sounds nice."

He cleared his throat and said, "Nat called about my bachelor party night?" 

It came out more like a question than a statement, but you just nodded and said, "Dinner and drinks and the strip club."

"Yeah," he rasped. "You approved this whole thing?"

"Mmhmm. To be fair, it was all her idea. I just told her it was okay."

Bradley tipped your chin so you were looking up at him, your face fresh and perfect after your shower. "If this plan is not okay with you, then I'm not going."

"It's okay with me," you replied easily. "I trust you."

He studied your face. "I feel like I'm going to end up babysitting everyone on a work night. Two days before the wedding."

You snorted in response. "You'll have fun. And so will everyone else. You should go."

"Yeah, I'm going," he groaned. "Nat will just have the guys drag me out if I don't go willingly. But I don't really care about looking at strippers. I got you and your perfect tits right here at home."

You didn't stop him when he slowly tugged your towel from your fingers and pulled it open. And yeah, your tits looked perfect, but so did the swell of your pregnant belly and your soft skin. He was hard as soon as the towel hit the floor. 

"Daddy," you whined softly, shivering in his arms. It was December, and the nights were chilly in San Diego; you had taken to snuggling with him even more than usual in your sleep. "Now you need to warm me up."

"My pleasure," he replied, scooping you up and dropping you carefully onto the king sized bed that you picked out for the room. "Let me start right here," he whispered before he kissed you softly, covering your body gently with his. "Feeling warmer?"

You shifted beneath him, spreading your legs wider so he was nestled against your pussy, his cock straining against his jeans zipper. "A little bit," you whispered innocently. 

Bradley smirked, and when he brought his hand up to stroke your breast, he said, "I told you, I got these perfect tits right here."

"Bradley," you giggled as his fingers skimmed along your skin, but when he stroked his thumb across your tightly furled nipple, you arched your back and made a raspy gasping sound. Your eyes went wide as you looked up at him. "Oh my god," you moaned.

"Are you okay?" he asked, pulling his hand away, but you were already nodding vigorously. 

"It felt really good." The words rushed right from your lips as you rolled your hips up to meet his. "Different, I guess. I can't explain it."

When he rubbed your nipple between his thumb and index finger, he smirked. You were instantly squirming and moaning, reaching for his zipper with one hand and his hair with the other. Your eyes were wild even though he was being gentle, and he dipped his head down to whisper in your ear. "You're extra sensitive right now. It's the pregnancy hormones." He plucked and stroked as you started panting. "God damn, Princess. You like that?"

"Yes!" Your voice already sounded broken, and he'd barely touched you.

"Shh. Keep quiet like a good girl." But his words and hand seemed to have the opposite effect on you, because you just got louder. Bradley reached down to where you had his cock free from his zipper and pulled your hand up to his lips. He kissed your fingers before shoving them a little rough into your mouth. "You have to be quiet if you want me to play with you."

You moaned around your own fingers but nodded your head, and at least you were quieter now as Bradley kissed his way from your neck down to your tits. He didn't know how he was going to manage you when there were two kids in the house trying to sleep, but at the moment, he didn't really care. You were going to be his wife in a few short days. That thought alone had him bucking his cock against the bedding as he ran his mustache along your peaked nipple, inhaling your wildflower scent.

When he pulled your nipple into his mouth and sucked, he could tell your breasts were already a little bit bigger than before. Soon you'd be bigger everywhere. Getting even more sensitive by the day. He was painfully hard right now, listening to your muffled screams and tasting you. He licked and sucked until your tits were both damp from his mouth and overstimulated from his mustache. 

When you started bucking up, Bradley eased his hand down to cup your pussy and found that you were soaked. He couldn't remember Meredith getting quite like this as he dipped his middle finger into your slick and easing it down to your hole.

"Daddy," you gasped as you pulled your fingers from your mouth. "I'm going to come."

You looked shocked by your statement as you sank down around his finger. He could already feel your tight pussy fluttering around him as he whispered, "You want me to make it so good?"

His only answer was a whimper as you bit your lip, and he knew he'd make sure you were always taken care of in every way. Carefully, he added a second finger and started to circle your clit with his thumb. You were shaking a bit, your pretty tits bouncing softly as he ran his nose down the valley between your breasts. 

"Be a good girl. You know where to put those fingers, Princess," he coaxed, watching you slip them between your lips. Then he let you have his mouth on your tits again, while his hand worked at your pussy. He carefully drew a shaking orgasm out of you as you slobbered on your own fingers, not stopping until he was afraid you'd be too far gone soon.

"Daddy," you whined around your fingers as he ran his tongue flat across your nipple.

"Let me fuck you," he begged, realizing he was already close and needing to be inside you. "Please, Baby."

You reached for his cock and guided him home, and he fucked you with his jeans barely pulled down, coming inside you after just a few strokes. You were the picture of sated perfection with his cum oozing out of your pussy and your wet fingers skimming along your swollen belly and breasts. You were his young, pristine babysitter and his pregnant wife-to-be and everything in between. "I love you."

"Keep me warm all night, Daddy."

---------------------------

As you sent Bradley off with Natasha, you shared a conspiratorial look with her. You only felt slightly bad for keeping the bachelor party plans to yourself, and ultimately it made you feel good when Bradley went out for the night in an old pair of jeans and an uninspired shirt. He didn't look the part of a man who wanted to try to dazzle some strippers, and you loved him for it. 

"Bye, Bub," he said, kneeling to kiss Noah where he stood at your side. "Be good for Mommy." Then he stood and kissed you deeply. "I won't be out late, okay?"

"Stay out as late as you want," you told him, running your fingers along his cheek as he pulled away from you. "Just don't have a hangover on Saturday."

He smiled and focused on your face even as Nat and the guys yelled at him from Javy's car in the driveway. "Our wedding day. It'll be perfect. Like you."

"Go," you told him with a laugh even as you had butterflies in your belly. "Have fun. We'll be here when you get home."

With one more kiss, he was off and jogging down the walkway. You watched him climb into the backseat, then they all waved at you as Javy backed out of the driveway with Natasha in the front seat. You were wondering how long it would be until Bradley called you to tell you he had in fact been taken to see a bunch of male strippers. The guys had apparently all been so excited when Natasha mentioned the strip club, she had a hard time holding in her laughter. The plan all along was that she'd take Bradley and the rest of them to dinner and then to The Tiger's Cage- San Diego's premier male review.

But you didn't hear from them at all while you and Noah ate macaroni and cheese together. You still didn't hear a word as the two of you took Skittles for a short walk to look at Christmas lights. You even let Noah dip his hands in green paint to make a Christmas tree art project to hang on the refrigerator, but nobody called or texted you.

"Mommy?" Noah asked as you got him changed into his dinosaur pajamas. "Are you going to adopt me?"

You smiled and kissed him on his chubby cheek. "I am," you promised. But when you looked at his face, his brow was pinched with worry.

"Is it going to hurt?"

"Oh, Noah," you said with a surprised laugh, pulling him into your arms and holding him against his growing younger sibling. "Not at all! It won't feel like anything."

"Then why are you going to do it?" he asked, face muffled by your shoulder.

You soothed his back with your hand, considering his question. For all intents and purposes, you really were his mom. Bradley added you to his will; if anything happened to him, Noah was solely yours. "I kind of want to have a little piece of paper with an official signature that says we get to be together forever. Does that sound okay?"

"That's adoption?" he asked. 

"That's adoption."

"Yeah, okay," he agreed with a little shrug before climbing into bed. "Can I sleep with Skittles again?"

The pup appeared in the doorway, always excited to hear her name. "She can stay in here until Daddy gets home." You set the dog in bed with him and gave him a little kiss on his forehead as he yawned. "I love you."

"Love you, Mommy." He was half asleep as you turned on his night light and left the room. When you checked your phone, you smiled, having finally received the message you were waiting for. 

Bradley Bradshaw: Nat brought us to The Tiger's Cage. My name is on the marquee. It says CONGRATULATIONS DADDY BRADSHAW

You were doubled over in laughter, holding your belly and trying not to wet yourself. Because he also sent a picture. All of the guys were lined up under the marquee sign, and you were pleased to see that they all looked like they were being good sports about the entire thing. Bradley was the only one who looked slightly mortified.

You texted back Go have fun, Daddy Bradshaw!

Natasha sent you some random photos as you got ready for bed. You were surprised Jake was there, given your history with him, but even he looked like he was having fun. You laughed at a picture of Bradley drinking something pink and blended, and then the photos stopped. 

You wondered what was going on, but you kept yourself busy. Bradley told you not to clean up, promising to take care of everything tomorrow night before the wedding in the backyard on Saturday afternoon. Since you had the time and the privacy, you tried on your wedding dress one last time, sliding the fabric along your legs and zipping it up your side. You grabbed your purple paper crown, which was looking a lot worse for the wear now, and set it on your head. 

When you looked in the mirror, you smiled. The dress fit like a dream and hugged your bump. The crown looked fun at the moment, but you wouldn't wear it on Saturday; you were pretty sure Bradley considered it a 'bedroom' item at this point anyway. Mostly, you looked happy. Like someone who was accepted in this perfect place. Like a woman who was needed here. And you needed the Bradshaw boys to be your family.

You wore the dress around for a few minutes before carefully unzipping it and getting ready for bed. It was late now, but you requested the day off tomorrow, and you wanted to see Bradley when he got home from his bachelor party. After you checked on Noah and Skittles, you curled up on the living room couch. 

Every time you stopped to think about the wedding, you got a little anxious. When you asked Bradley what he had planned for dinner for the reception, he just told you he had everything under control. He said all you had to do was show up with some sort of wedding vows, but he didn't tell you anything that he had planned. 

You dozed off on the couch, somehow still exhausted all the time, and you had no idea how late it was when you woke up to the sound of laughter and a key in the front door.

"You smell like Axe body spray. I can't believe someone is marrying you."

"Jesus fuck, Nat. I smell like Axe because you took me to see male strippers."

"Well, I know I had a great time tonight," Natasha cackled as she guided Bradley inside, and you stood up with your hand clasped over your mouth. He was a swaying mess, and he was holding a huge wad of cash and a bag from a convenience store.

"Princess," he crooned softly when he saw you, and your heart skipped a beat at the look in his eyes.

"Hi, Daddy."

And then he was on you, so gentle in his overindulgence, it was almost surprising. He was looking around like he wasn't sure what to do with everything he was holding, trying to touch your belly.

"I'll see you on Saturday," Natasha said with a smile as she closed the door behind her, and then you were alone with him. 

"What's in the bag? Are why are you holding a roll of cash?" you asked as you guided him to the couch. 

He sat down hard and handed everything to you as you stood between his splayed legs. "The strippers were dudes. I made Nat and Javy stop so I could get you some Skittles. I'm really drunk. Can we get married soon?"

When you looked in the bag you found six packs of your favorite candy. "Wow, you must be very intoxicated if you bought a pack of Sour Skittles too."

"Did I?" he asked before stretching out on the couch. "Shit. I'll eat them. Come here."

You sat on the floor next to him and handed him the bag of Sour Skittles as you counted the nearly seven hundred dollars you were holding. "Bradley, where did this come from?" you asked in alarm.

But he just crunched on some of the candy in response. "Oh, these are fucking nasty. Baby, can we please get married?" he rambled, dumping more Skittles into his mouth.

You pushed his hair back from his forehead and kissed him there. "Were getting married in like thirty-six hours. Now can you please tell me where you got this money from?"

"Huh?" he grunted like he'd never seen it before. "Oh. Oh, that." Then he casually dumped the rest of the Sour Skittles and chewed them up while you laughed and shook his arm.

"Bradley!"

He swallowed and dropped the wrapper on the floor before pulling you up onto the couch with him. "Jake got tips for stripping, and Nat made him give me the cash."

"I'm sorry, what?" you asked with in shock as you tried to settle into a comfortable position on him.

"They tried to get Daddy Bradshaw up on stage. I pointed to Jake and said it was him."

You couldn't stop laughing now. "But you got the cash?"

"Yeah," he said, eyes drifting closed as he propped his arm behind his head. "A wedding gift. For the honeymoon."

Just as you settled your head on his chest, you popped back up again. "Are we going on a honeymoon?" You started to feel a little apprehensive about going away for an extended trip without Noah while you were pregnant, but Bradley brought his big hand up to settle on your back as he snuggled in a little more.

"Next year. After the baby's born. Anywhere you want to go."

He really did kind of smell like Axe body spray, and he definitely needed to take a shower, but you let him hold you for a few minutes while he slept.

------------------------------

Part 61 will be their wedding! Thanks so much for reading and letting me share this family with you! We're almost to the finish line. Thanks @caitsymichelle13 for the request about the coloring book; stay tuned. And thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 61

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[thembofied]

I love collars. But not for me.

I prefer putting my tops in collars. Hearing the tag jingle with every thrust, grabbing onto it for leverage to pull them down to kiss them. Or even better, tightening it and watching their voices get more breathy as they struggle for air as they get winded. Or, even better. Putting a leash on them. Pulling them closer to remind them to focus.

Just thinking about holding onto the leash as I’m absolutely ruined from behind, pulling on it when I want them to be rougher with me when words won’t suffice.

Picking out a tag for them, as if it’s still not me who’s being held down and used at their mercy. But, no one has to know.

・──・˚ପ꒰✦꒱ଓ˚・──・

This user is transmasc. MINORS DNI.

[suzukiblu]

Day twenty-eight of “Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it” behind the cut. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Anyway, yeah, the last protein bar and the rest of the water bottle do not last long. And if some super-speed is involved, well, that's just Kon being practical, okay? Saving some time or whatever; being efficient. He stuffs the wrappers into the empty bottle and gives it to Tim, who looks wry about it for some reason, but Bernard reaches out and catches the back of Kon's neck to give it a quick little tug before he can figure out why, and then Kon definitely does not care about figuring out the “why”. 

Bernard gets up, and Kon shifts forward to– 

Bernard holds out a hand to him like–like, offers a hand to him. Kon stares blankly at it for a second, then flicks his eyes up to Bernard’s face and just . . . takes it. Bernard grins at him and then tugs him to his feet and out of the bedroom without letting go of his hand. 

Kon’s brain doesn’t fully melt, but it definitely gets kinda soft and oozy and fresh-baked cookie. He forgets to look back at Tim, even. So like, that’s a thing, yeah. 

Just–it’s been a minute, he guesses, since he just like . . . just held somebody’s hand, and nothing else. And like yeah, he’s naked and it’s kink-related and all that, but just–still. It just feels kinda . . . feels like . . . 

Bernard leads him out into the living room, and probably Kon should be feeling like he’s a pet on a leash or something, but mostly what he feels is the way he feels when he’s, like–holding a girl he’s into’s hand. Which, alright, maybe more Bernard is holding his hand in this situation, since Bernard’s the one leading the way here, but not the point, alright? 

He ducks his head a little and feels stupid for smiling about how it feels, even just to himself. He could at least, like, be grinning or something. Be smug or preening or . . . like, literally anything more dignified than a fresh-baked cookie, pretty much. 

“So how did you sleep, boy?” Bernard says as he looks back over his shoulder to grin at him again. Kon feels like a marshmallow of a half-human being and barely represses the urge to slip in against the guy’s back and wrap him up in his arms. He could do it like–flatteringly, and all. Make a good show of it; make it look good and all. Give Tim something to admire. 

Or just, like, have an excuse to touch the guy a little more. Either/or. Both. 

“Like a rock,” Kon says. “A real, real well-fucked rock. Honestly kinda hoping to repeat the ‘real well-fucked’ experience, gotta say.” 

“Yeah, pretty sure we can handle that for you,” Bernard says, grinning wider at him as he turns around to face him fully and catching his other hand too; giving them both a squeeze. Kon is marshmallow. “Knowing Tim, anyway, he’s probably got a couple dozen fun little plots on the backburner for whatever way things go. C’mere.” 

He tugs at Kon’s hands, and Kon–obviously–follows, and gets pulled right in and tugged down just enough to kiss, and melts right into it. 

Marshmallow, yeah. Full-stop marshmallow. 

“You are so fucking cute,” Bernard mutters appreciatively, then nips his lower lip before kissing him again. Every last inch of Kon’s skin prickles.