#how my music tastes make my stories grow

[artemisdesari-blog]

PARANOiD DJ - 'We're Sure To Drown (Husk's Tale)' feat. Cycoriot (Hazbin...

And yet more Careless To Let It Fall music posting! This is another one that I listen to so that I can get into the Dooku headspace, although mostly the mid war Dooku and Obi-Wan conversation headspaces. It’s pretty obvious when you listen to it and hear how despairing Husk is of his circumstances and his insistence that he can’t be saved and I really feel that for Dooku to a degree. This song was actually one of my earliest themes for the story as a whole, beyond Powerless obviously, and so I’ve listened to it quite a lot. It’s definitely a favourite to listen to when I’m writing this one

[burntheedges]

Falling For You - Part 1

Joel Miller x f!reader | 7.3k | 18+ | masterlist | fic masterlist | ao3

fic summary: Joel Miller gave up on the idea of a soulmate at least 20 years and one apocalypse ago. But it turns out the universe hasn't given up on him quite yet.

Part 1: Back in Jackson, settling in was both easier and harder than Joel expected.

a/n: here's part 1! I hope you enjoy! we're starting out with Joel stumbling his way through settling into Jackson. Ellie, too. see tags/warnings below and check the fic masterlist for the full tags. Thank you again @katareyoudrilling for being the best beta!! 🧡

tags/warnings for part 1: angst, Joel is having a lot of feelings ok, family vibes, family fluff, reference to (unnamed) David, Ellie has a bit of a dissociative episode (school related), get ready for soulmate lore (for this AU)

Part 1

“She’s the one, Joel.”

Joel didn’t know what to make of Maria at first. 

Sure, she didn’t seem to like him much, but he didn’t really expect or need to be liked. She’d definitely heard a few too many stories from Tommy and made up her mind that most of it (if not all of it) was Joel’s fault. 

Fair enough. 

But that wasn’t what was throwing him off, what was making him feel like everything he’d known had picked up and settled just a bit to the left. Leaving him out of step and off balance, trying to move forward but uncertain where to find solid ground. 

Tommy hadn’t told him right away, but once he had him alone, he couldn’t hold it in. 

“She’s the one, my one. First time we locked eyes — over the barrel of her gun, of course, didn’t trust me one bit — I heard ‘em. Ours are bells, can you believe it?” Tommy laughed, and Joel knew with certainty he’d never seen a smile quite like that on his brother’s face before. “I froze, had no idea what to do. Couldn’t hear anything but the song in my head, couldn’t see anything but Maria. And then she said, ‘well. Better come with me, then.’” Tommy laughed again. “Got her to smile at me for the first time later that night. Wasn’t easy.”

Joel huffed a single laugh, trying not to frown for Tommy’s sake. 

“After… well. After everything, I’d given up. And then there she was, last place I ever thought I’d find her.” Tommy sighed and looked so in love Joel wanted to throw his glass of whiskey across the bar.

He didn’t. He downed it, instead. 

“I…” he shook his head. “I’m happy for you.”

Tommy chuckled. “Don’t look it, but I know you, so I’m not offended.”

Joel winced and frowned again. “I—“

Tommy waved his hand in the air. “No, no, I remember. ‘Soulmates? That type of crap don’t matter when the world’s gone to shit. Why bother?’ I’ve heard you say it enough times, Joel.”

Joel hunched his shoulders up by his ears and sighed. “I am happy for you. I know I ain’t… I know how I’ve been.” He glanced at Tommy, whose eyebrows had flown upwards at Joel’s admission, and then back down to his empty glass. “If anyone deserves it, it’s you.”

“Thank you,” Tommy said, voice sincere, if surprised. “I think you’ll like her, though she doesn’t like you much.”

This time Joel did laugh as he replied, “just say it. I know you’re thinkin’ it.” He elbowed Tommy and in unison, they said, “means she’s got good taste.”

Tommy laughed and started telling Joel more about the town and Joel sighed, relieved to change the topic. 

Soulmates. 

He hadn’t thought about finding his since 2003, and he wasn’t going to start now. They were probably dead, anyway. 

Why bother?

…

Joel had never talked about it with Tess. Like so many things, she’d understood him without him needing to say anything at all. 

He worried that he’d taken that for granted, by the end. 

Tess had lost her soulmate in the outbreak, and she wasn’t looking for a replacement, she said.

They fit together. 

(There were stories, rare ones, of people who heard the music after knowing each other for years instead of instantly or after only a short time — usually kids who knew each other growing up and didn’t hear their music until later. 

It was even more rare to have more than one soulmate.

Joel only let himself think about that in his darkest, lowest moments. That maybe one day he’d hear it. Maybe it would be nice if that were in the cards for him and Tess. 

It wasn’t.)

They never talked about it, but he knew that she always knew what he wasn’t saying — I’ll never find them, they’re probably gone, and I don’t want to know if they are gone. 

Who would want me now?

Finding them would be worse. 

Tess never pushed, and he never offered.

After everything, looking back, he only wished he had. She had wanted him. She deserved better. 

…

Jackson was strange, at first. Joel found it harder than he’d expected to settle in after he and Ellie returned from Salt Lake. 

Ellie didn’t take to it easily, either, which made Joel feel both better and worse. 

After the first week, the two of them made a deal that they’d eat most of their dinners at the dining hall for a while, if not the rest of their meals. He was pretty sure getting out of the house would be good for her, and even if he didn’t bother to apply the same standard to himself, he’d never say so where she could hear him. 

Teenagers loved to call out hypocrisy, after all, and this particular teenager could spot it a mile away. 

(He remembered the lessons he’d learned with Sarah, even if recalling them was like flexing a muscle he hadn’t used in 20 years. Getting back in shape wasn’t painless.)

About three weeks after their return, Maria broached the topic at dinner. 

“So, Joel, I’ve been meaning to ask. We’ve got quite a few buildings around town that could use some TLC.”

Ellie made a thoughtful noise. “No one’s ever told me what that stands for,” she interrupted, mouth full of potatoes. “Tough… large…” she trailed off, frowning. “Contractors?”

Tommy laughed and Joel couldn’t help but smile. 

Maria smiled at Ellie. “In this case, not far off. But it stands for tender loving care.”

Ellie hummed and turned to Joel with the look that he knew meant she was about to say something at his expense that Tommy would probably think was hilarious. “Joel, your hair could use some TLC.”

He sighed while Tommy laughed so hard he looked like he might fall off the bench. Maria chuckled and Ellie grinned. 

“Alright, alright.” Joel resisted the urge to shove Tommy the rest of the way off the bench and kicked his brother under the table instead. “What kind of TLC are we talkin’, here,” he asked Maria. 

“Some windows that are letting in air, stairs that are worn down. A couple leaks. A few houses that need to be made livable.” Maria started ticking off her fingers. “A roof or two that need a look at.”

“I’ve got a running list written down in the office,” Tommy said. “Come by tomorrow and we’ll look it over.”

“Tomorrow is Ellie’s first day of school,” Joel said, voice mild. He knew Tommy would know what he wasn’t saying — that he needed to be available and easy for her to find. Just in case. 

“I’ll point out where the office is after dinner,” his brother said, looking at Ellie. “It’s closer to the school than your house.”

Ellie looked like she would rather crawl under the table than acknowledge she had any idea what they were talking about, so he changed the subject. 

“Thought I’d be doin’ patrol,” he observed, and Maria nodded. 

“You will. Everyone who can, does, but we have a rotation, so people can actually use their other skills, too. We need it, and that way everyone can contribute what they can.”

Ellie perked up, and Joel sighed before she even opened her mouth. She elbowed him. “Can I go on patrol?”

“No,” Joel, Tommy and Maria chorused together. 

“Ugh,” she replied, rolling her eyes. 

“Training starts at 16, then actual training runs. Can’t patrol until you’re 17 at the earliest.” Maria’s voice was even and Ellie sighed and nodded. “You’ll hear about it in school.”

After dinner Tommy walked home with them and pointed out the office. “School’s right down the road,” he pointed towards it and Ellie tensed. Joel nudged her with his shoulder. “I’ll meet you there after breakfast, Joel. Have a good first day, Ellie.” Tommy waved and headed towards his house. 

When Joel opened their front door and waved Ellie inside, he eyed her tense shoulders and made a quick adjustment to his evening plans.

“Want to watch that movie? The space one.”

Ellie immediately perked up and grinned, leading the way into the living room, and he couldn’t help but smile. 

She plopped down onto the couch in such a way that she sprawled over most of it. By the end of the movie, she was leaning on his shoulder and covered in a blanket, half asleep.

“Hey,” he murmured, not wanting to mess up the moment or the ease in her shoulders but knowing he needed to say it. “Come find me if you need me tomorrow, alright?”

Ellie didn’t say anything, but the way she buried her face in his shoulder told him enough. 

“It’s ok if you need a break or can’t do the whole day. Just find me.” He nudged her with his elbow. “Ok?”

“Ok,” she mumbled. 

“Ok,” he repeated. He nudged her into a standing position. “Time for bed, kiddo.”

She sighed dramatically and stomped off towards the stairs. When she got there, though, she stopped and looked back at him. “Hey Joel,” she said, voice low.

“Yeah?” He stood from the couch and watched as she worked her jaw over what she wanted to say.

“Thanks,” she said, quiet.

He smiled. “Anytime.”

…

Joel saw Ellie off to school in the morning and almost had an anxiety attack at the way it reminded him of sending Sarah to school Before. 

In some ways, knowing what school had been like for Ellie with FEDRA in Boston made it worse, this time around.

He stood with Tommy by the office while she walked down the street towards the school. When she got there she turned and looked back. He could tell she rolled her eyes when she found them both looking at her. She waved, but even that felt somehow like she was being sarcastic.

They waved back and Tommy laughed as they watched Ellie go inside the school building. “Can’t believe you managed to find your clone running around Boston,” he mused, elbowing Joel in the ribs. “Did she act like that before you carted her across the country?”

“She comes by it honestly,” Joel said, and Tommy smirked. He couldn’t even pretend he didn’t know what his brother was talking about, and besides, the idea that Ellie was like him was filling his entire chest with warmth. Not that he was going to tell Tommy that.

“Well, your terrifying mini-me will be fine. Let me show you the plans.” 

They spent the entire day poring over the various plans and maps Tommy had in the main office, and Joel started to understand the scale of what they were doing in Jackson. There were more residents than he realized, more people who needed a home or needed their home fixed.

“This is a lot, Tommy,” he observed some time in the afternoon. “We need more manpower.”

Tommy nodded. “We have it. I’ve been training some people, and we have a couple more that did some building before.”

Joel nodded. “And supplies. How are we there?”

Tommy smiled when Joel said “we” but didn’t acknowledge it otherwise, which he appreciated. “We’re doing alright. We have a policy to either collect or go back for anything useful when people are on patrol. Got a nice stash, almost like a little hardware store. Can use anything in there for repairs, but you have to barter like normal for personal projects.”

Joel hummed. “I’ll need to go take a look, then.”

“I’ll start prioritizin’,” Tommy said, already rearranging the papers on his desk. “Why don’t you start with that tomorrow – get a lay of the land, stop by Nuts n’ Bolts. See what we’ve got.”

Joel raised his eyebrows at his brother. “Nuts and bolts?”

Tommy laughed. “Ah, right. It’s not official but that’s what we’ve all taken to calling our little hardware store. We even call her Bolts sometimes, ‘stead of her name. The woman who organizes everything and handles the inventory. She should be there tomorrow, she can show you around. She knows it back to front.”

That night Joel told Ellie about his plans once she was done telling him every single thing that had happened to her at school that day. 

“So you think it’ll be alright?” He asked her once she seemed to wind down.

She nodded, and he took a deep breath in relief when she looked away. “I might… I don’t fuckin’ know. It was a lot. But it seemed ok. Can I…” she trailed off, and he thought he knew what she wasn’t asking.

“Offer stands,” he said, nodding. “Come find me. I’ll be at the office again, but in the morning I might be over at Nuts ‘n Bolts.”

“What’s that?” She asked, looking confused.

“The local hardware store, apparently,” he explained, stretching his neck. He’d been sitting around a lot more lately and noticed he was getting stiff. “I need to see what supplies they got so we can start fixin’ stuff up.”

Ellie furrowed her brow. “Will you teach me?”

“Teach you what?”

She curled into a ball on the couch with her knees to her chest and propped her cheek on one knee, looking at him. He smiled. “To fix things,” she replied.

“Course I will,” he said, reaching out to push her lightly on the shoulder. She didn’t release her knees and dramatically fell over on the couch with an oof. He laughed and she grinned. “Anything you want to know.”

“Cool.”

…

After seeing Ellie off to school again, Joel took a walk around town. 

He kept an eye out for the projects he’d gone over with Tommy the day before and spotted most of them. He could see why they were so eager to get going. 

On his way back to the office he swung by Nuts ‘n Bolts. It was easy to spot, since someone had made a wooden sign with a nut and a bolt carved into it and hung it above the door. 

It was an old storefront with actual rows of shelving and big windows. It even looked like a hardware store from the outside. 

When he stepped inside and a little bell rang above his head, he was almost transported back 25 years. He took a deep breath. 

“Morning,” a voice called out from the back. “I’ll be out in a second.”

“Take your time,” he called back. “Just lookin’ around.”

“Ah, you must be Joel,” the voice said, and it sounded like they were smiling. “Tommy told me you’d stop by. Alright, I’ll be out there in a bit. Holler if you need anything.”

He sighed, knowing that Tommy had probably told them something ridiculous, and started looking around. 

It really did look like a hardware store. There were tools and supplies of all kinds, neatly organized on clean shelves. There were also signs of a meticulous inventory being kept, with numbers updated in pencil on little slips of paper in front of each item. 

Joel was leaning over some bins of nails when something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye.

Ellie was walking up the street towards the store, jaw set, arms crossed. In a sudden overwhelming rush Joel felt worry rise and begin to choke him. He turned and speed walked towards the door.

“Gotta go,” he barely remembered to call out. “Another time.”

He heard some kind of acknowledgement, but it was faint and he was already mostly out the door.

…

When he stepped outside, he could see on Ellie’s face that she wasn’t ready to talk about it, whatever it might be. He reached out to squeeze her shoulder and said, “office or home?”

She looked thoughtful for a moment, despite her hunched shoulders and general fuck-off aura. 

“Office.”

“Alright,” he agreed, and led the way. She trailed after him silently and he worked his jaw as he tried not to draw any similarities with her silence after Silver Lake. “I’ll show you what we’re working on.”

When they stepped into the office, Ellie’s shoulders relaxed just a bit, and he did not allow himself a deep breath in relief. 

He’d learned the hard way on the road that she liked him talking but not asking questions, not when she was feeling like this, so he started showing her the list and the repairs. She eased into a chair and leaned in to look at the town map. 

By the time he got to the smaller projects on the outskirts, she had her chin in her hand and was staring off into the middle distance. 

When she interrupted him, he stopped talking immediately. 

“It was math class,” she said, voice quiet. Joel tensed and then forced himself to relax his muscles. “The teacher here isn’t even a man, isn’t…” she trailed off and frowned, and he could see her wrestling with herself. “But I couldn’t… fucking why couldn’t I—“

Joel was up and around the desk before he even realized he was moving, then on his knees next to her chair. He reached up and ran his hand over her hair and relaxed, just a bit, when she leaned into it. “Ellie, you don’t—“

“I can’t fucking sit through a math class, Joel,” she said, sounding disgusted with herself. She leaned forward and rested her forehead on his shoulder. “It wasn’t the teacher or the school, it was just math, and I ran away like a weak little b—“

“Hey,” he said, voice low and soothing. He cupped the back of her head in his hand and started running the palm of his free hand up and down her back. “Running away does not make you weak. It’s ok to not be ok, baby girl. And look, Tommy told me something.” He squeezed the back of her neck with his hand. “Plenty of the kids here haven’t been able to do school right away. Plenty of ‘em have eased into it.” She started to pull back but he squeezed her again and she settled. “It’s hard… to go from the road to something like school. Turns out they have whole plans here for kids who need more time.”

“Plans?” She asked, finally raising her head and looking at him skeptically. “Like what?”

Joel settled onto one knee and leaned against the arm of her chair. “Like half days, and doin’ some work on their own at home. Or every other day.” He took one of her hands and squeezed it. “I bet we could work out a plan for you to do your math work at home, or here, even.” He waved his free hand around the office. “Seems like I’ll be spendin’ some time here, if you wanted to hang around.”

Ellie frowned as she mulled that over, staring down at their hands. She picked at the seam of her jeans with her free hand and Joel fought the urge to hold that one, too. “Other kids have really done this, too?”

He could hear what she was really asking — she didn’t want to be the only one with a problem. It was a pretty normal thing to worry about, of course, but it was also such a teenager thing to worry about that he couldn’t help but smile. “They have. Pretty sure no one would think you were weird.” He eyed her and took a gamble.  “Not for that, anyway. Got plenty of other reasons, like the way you put sugar on grits,” he said, voice teasing. 

She rolled her eyes at him and he smiled, fully. “You’re the weird one, Joel. No one likes grits, I don’t care what you say. And Tommy told me no one else actually likes those old movies you told me about, too.”

“Tommy ain’t got any taste,” he said, moving to stand. He stopped when her grip on his hand tightened. “I’ll talk to the teachers, alright? We’ll figure it out.”

She nodded, looking much calmer than she had when he’d found her outside. He pulled her into another hug. 

“And we’re in this together, right? We made a deal.” She nodded again, and smiled, this time, the way she did every time he referenced their deal.

When he let go, she started asking him questions about the repairs that needed doing, and he heaved himself off the floor to answer. 

They’d be alright. 

…

Their deal, as they’d both come to call it, had been hashed out on their fifth night back in Jackson.

Joel hadn’t wanted to rush her, he’d known she was feeling like shit. But he knew he couldn’t let the two of them start up a pattern of never leaving the house. Not if Ellie was going to have an actual life there. And that’s what he wanted for her, more than anything – to have a life. 

It turned out she wanted something similar for him.

“How about just dinners, then?” he’d offered, when she’d refused to go out for lunch again. “We can start tomorrow. See how it goes.”

She’d agreed, but their truce had been short lived when she’d discovered he also wanted her to go to school. Not yet, but apparently wanting her to go at all was the problem.

“Why the fuck do I need school,” she’d spat, and he’d thanked his years of experience with teenage anger and discontent for his even response.

“Life here seems alright, don’t it?” he’d asked, and eventually, frowning, she’d nodded. “Seems like we can give things a try, the way things are done here. See how it goes.”

Ellie had frowned down at her hands in her lap on the couch but eventually looked back up at him. “If I’m trying,” she’d emphasized, “you have to, too.”

“Ellie, I don’t need anything, just—“ just you, he’d been about to say. Just for you to be happy. 

“No, Joel. You, too.” She’d been implacable. And at the end of the day, all he wanted was to give her what she wanted. 

So they shook on it. She would try, and he would try, and they wouldn’t just give up because something sounded dumb or like a waste of time. 

They’d try living this new life they’d found, and they’d do it together. And see how it went.

…

The teachers were more than happy to come up with a plan for Ellie, it turned out. So she spent her mornings at school, and her afternoons in the office with Joel or Tommy, doing work they assigned for her to take home.

Joel loved it.

He knew it wouldn’t last forever – eventually she’d feel fine with school, he knew, and he’d lose this time they had together – so he tried to savor it. Tried to find time to teach her about what they were doing, to let her be a part of it. Every time he gave her something to do, she stood a little taller, smiled a little wider.

It turned out actually trying was good for her. And seeing her settle in and start to smile more? That was good for him.

She’d taken to sitting at a little desk Tommy had found god-knows-where in the corner of the office and chattering about what she was doing, which suited him just fine. Sometimes she threw balled up pieces of old homework at him to catch his attention and he always sent them right back, bouncing them off her forehead. It never failed to make her laugh.

About a week and a half into their new arrangement she finished her work early and started rummaging around in office shelves, keeping up her stream of consciousness stories about her new classmates as she went. 

“... and did you hear about that new group that came into town? From somewhere west? Turns out one of them is Miss Jenna’s soulmate.” Ellie fiddled with an old broken stapler she found on a shelf, frowning at it as she turned to look at him expectantly. 

It took Joel a minute to catch up with what she was talking about, but his mind snagged on soulmate. He knew Miss Jenna was her history teacher. “What?”

Ellie nodded. “Miss Tasha is taking over for her for the rest of the week to give them time to, I don’t know.” Ellie shrugged expansively. “What do soulmates even do? Talk, or some shit.”

He raised his eyebrows at her and smiled. “Or some shit?”

She sighed and flopped the stapler open. “What is this thing?”

“A stapler,” he told her, “but I doubt we have any staples. Used to use ‘em to bind piles of paper together with little metal bits.”

“The staples?” She asked, peering at it and then at him. He nodded. “Weird. Anyway, I don’t fuckin’ know. FEDRA never talked about soulmates. We only heard stuff from the other kids.” She shrugged again. “You hear music, right? In your head?” She looked baffled by this idea.

“‘S what they say.” He stretched his shoulders, settling in to talk about this. “I’ve never heard it myself, but Tommy and Maria did. You could ask them what it was like.”

Ellie leaned forward on the desk, stapler forgotten by her hand. “They’re soulmates?!” She looked intrigued. “Why didn’t you say so?”

He shrugged.

She rolled her eyes at him and flopped into the chair in front of the desk. “Useless, Joel. You’re supposed to find out things and then tell them to me. Duh.” She grinned at him when he huffed a laugh. “I’ve never met soulmates before. Everyone’s music is different, right?”

He nodded again. “‘S what they say.”

She hummed and kicked her feet up on the desk. He reached across and nudged them back onto the floor with a ruler and she grumbled. When she was quiet for a long moment, he looked up, and found her frowning thoughtfully at the ceiling.

“Ellie?” he prompted, and she sighed.

“Did most people, Before,” she started, and then cleared her throat. “Did most people find them? Their soulmates?”

Joel thought about it for a moment before answering. “A lot of people did, sure,” he said, thinking about his parents for the first time in years. “Our parents were soulmates, mine and Tommy’s. And I knew a lot of people who found theirs.” He shrugged. “Not sure of the numbers. One of your teachers might know.”

“Did…” she trailed off, looking hesitant, and he figured she was about to ask about him. “You said you didn’t–”

He shook his head. “Never found ‘em.”

She hesitated again, and he figured she was about to ask about Tess. He poked at her memory in his mind and discovered it didn’t hurt quite as much as it used to.

Still hurt, though.

“Did Tess–”

He shook his head again. “Lost hers in the outbreak,” he said, and he could hear the gruffness in his own voice. He cleared his throat. “We weren’t… we weren’t.”

She nodded, looking thoughtful. “Wonder how many there are in Jackson.”

“You’ll have to ask Tommy,” he said, sighing, “Wouldn’t know.”

Ellie hummed again, but before she could ask him another question about it the man himself walked in the door.

“Howdy, folks,” Tommy said, drawing out his accent a bit more than normal. It made Ellie snicker, which was the point. “What are you troublemakers up to today?”

“You didn’t tell me you and Maria are soulmates!” Ellie accused, and Tommy looked slightly taken aback before he smiled.

“So sorry, ma’am, didn’t realize you wanted to know.”

Ellie rolled her eyes. “Duh. What was it like?”

Joel figured Tommy had brought this on himself and turned back to his work. After all, only the day before he’d told Ellie she could ask him “anything at all” and he’d answer.

“The music?” Tommy asked, propping himself against the desk. Ellie nodded. “Pretty weird. It’s not like when you have a song stuck in your head, it’s like actual music playing inside your head. Full sound.” He tilted his head from side to side. “And it’s a song I’d never heard, never in my life, which made it even weirder.”

Ellie looked captivated by this information. “And Maria heard the same thing?!”

Tommy nodded. “Yep.”

“And were you, like, instantly in love?” Ellie looked both intrigued and put off by the idea, which made Joel smile down at his maps.

“I was,” Tommy said with a wink, grinning. “Maria took a little convincing, but she’s smarter than me, anyway.”

Ellie seemed to mull that over and then nodded. “Did you hear about Miss Jenna?”

Joel looked up, interested to hear the answer on this one, and found Tommy nodding. “Yep. I was standing right next to them when it happened, too.”

Ellie’s mouth dropped open and Joel smiled to himself – she had a true love of gossip, his kid. “What was it like? Seeing it?”

“Now, don’t go repeatin’ this to all the other miscreants, alright?” Tommy fixed her with a look and Ellie nodded eagerly. “But it looked like it went the same for them as it did for me. Mena was getting down off her horse when she happened to look up and catch Jenna’s eye and, well. They both stared, Mena fell down the rest of the way and landed in the dirt. Jenna helped her up and said something like, ‘did you hear that?’” He smiled. “So there you go.”

Ellie squinted at him. “That’s it?” 

Tommy laughed. “What else do you want?”

She shrugged, and Joel smiled down at his maps again. “Guess I thought it would be a bigger deal, or something.”

Tommy hummed. “Well, for them it was. We got enough soulmates here in town that I guess it’s not so novel anymore,” he said, thoughtfully.

“Really?” Ellie asked. “Like, a lot?”

He shrugged. “Not sure what’s a lot. But enough. Not the first time it’s happened at the gates, either.”

Ellie considered that for a minute. “Huh,” she said, sounding surprised. “Maybe mine is here, too. Oh, or Joel’s!” He looked up from his work to find her grinning at him. “Somebody who can fall in love with that grumpy face.”

He frowned at her and she frowned back. “Soulmates–”

Tommy cut him off, and Joel recognized the voice he used as his Joel impression. He sighed as Tommy said in a deep, growling voice, “soulmates? Why bother?” And then laughed. 

Ellie looked between him and Joel. “Was that supposed to be Joel?”

“Duh,” Tommy said, smiling as he repeated the word back to her with the same intonation she’d used when he came in. “Heard him say it enough times.” 

Joel sighed again. 

Ellie frowned at him. “Do you not want to meet ‘em?”

Joel looked at her and fought down his initial response of obviously not and who would want me now? That wasn’t exactly the message about love and relationships he wanted to pass on to his kid, not when all he wanted was for her to be happy. Even if it wasn’t in the cards for him. “Figure they’re not around anymore,” he said, trying to shrug it off. “Been long enough.”

“You are old as dirt,” Ellie said, rolling her eyes. “But they could be here. You never know.”

Joel couldn’t help but notice that she seemed pretty excited about the whole thing, maybe because it was so different from what she knew in Boston with FEDRA. He sighed again. “Maybe,” he allowed. “But I ain’t lookin’. Got plenty of other things to worry about.” Like you, he didn’t say. 

“Joel,” she said, frowning. “We have a deal.”

He eyed her and tried not to notice Tommy looking between them curiously out of the corner of his eye. “Didn’t realize soulmates were part of the deal.”

“Of course they are!” She said, raising both of her arms and then letting her hands fall against her legs in exasperation. “Living, Joel. Life, or whatever.”

“Alright, alright, ok.” He worked his jaw for a moment, figuring out what he wanted to say. “If they’re here, somehow. I’ll tell you, alright? And I’ll…” he winced. “I’ll talk to them, I guess.”

Ellie grinned and Tommy looked shocked. “Deal,” she said, looking smug. 

Tommy gave him a look that said, you really are wrapped around her little finger, you know, and Joel flipped him off the second Ellie’s back was turned. 

…

The soulmates conversation was, thankfully, put to the side after that. Joel was certain Ellie asked Tommy about it more, apparently insatiable in her desire for more knowledge, but she didn’t talk to him about it again. 

Considering that his opinion was still finding them now would be worse, despite the recent, more positive changes in his life, he figured that was a good thing. 

So Joel settled into a daily rhythm of mornings at work and afternoons with Ellie and marveled at how much he liked this new life they’d found. 

Ellie started running errands for them, too, and learning more about the work they were doing. It made him feel proud, which made Tommy tease him, which made him put Tommy in a headlock with a cheering Ellie off to the side. 

It was nice. And Joel hadn’t had nice in decades, so it was difficult to trust. Difficult not to wonder when the other shoe was going to drop. 

He figured if he kept his head down and did his work he’d stay out of trouble. Hopefully. 

“Joel! I’m back," Ellie called, bursting into the office with a box in her arms. “Bolts had everything you asked for except, well.” She snickered. “Except the bolts. She said she’d check the storage area and get back to me.”

This wasn’t the first time Ellie had run over to get something from Nuts ‘n Bolts — she’d mostly taken over the job, in fact. 

“She said you still haven’t been over there to introduce yourself. Not very social of you,” Ellie said, repeating what Maria had said a couple nights before, waggling a finger at him. He rolled his eyes and caught it, smiling when she squealed. 

“I know, keep meaning to,” he said, releasing her but reaching out to mess with her hair as he stepped back. She swatted him away, laughing. 

“Well you can’t have my job, slacker.” Tommy had taught her that word the week before and Ellie had been using it with delight ever since. “You’ll have to go over there on your own.”

He started going through the box and was impressed as always by how meticulously organized it was. Each different item was in its own little box or folded in paper with a tag noting how many were there in neat handwriting. It satisfied something inside of him, to see competence like this on display.

“Still checking her work?” Tommy said, stomping inside. “I told you she knows what she’s doing.”

Ellie nodded, agreeing. 

“No, just looking,” Joel said, knowing they probably didn’t believe him. But he wasn’t. 

He was more appreciating her work than anything else. 

“Well, let’s get going then,” Tommy said, motioning towards the door. “Those stairs won’t fix themselves.”

…

About a month after Ellie started school, Joel did his first patrol. 

It was time, but he was grateful for the extra time to settle in and prepare Ellie for him to leave and come back. 

Well, for him to try to prepare her, anyway. And attempt to prepare himself, too.

“I want to come,” she said, stomping next to him towards the gate. She’d said the same thing every day since Maria had asked him three days ago. 

“You know the rules,” he said, tone mild. “Not—“

“Not until I’m 17, ugh, I fucking know, Joel.” She frowned and crossed her arms. “What if something happens? What if—“

“Hey,” he said, stopping and kneeling next to her on the ground. She looked thrown, like she always did when he put himself below her like that. He hoped she’d stop being surprised by it eventually. “I’ll be with a group, and with Tommy, alright? I’ll be ok. We aren’t even going that far—“

“Just out to the dam, I know.” She finished for him. Her body was coiled as tight as a spring and he reached out to squeeze her shoulder. 

He nodded. “Back by sundown. I’ll meet you right there.” He pointed to the tree by the gate. “Ok?”

She worked her jaw for a minute but nodded. “Ok. And you better not get hurt.”

He smiled and stood up, cupping her face gently. “I won’t. You don’t either, alright?”

She sighed, sounding so much like an exasperated teenager he had to hold in a grin. “I’m just going to hang out with Bolts and sort nails. Ooh, scary.” She waggled her fingers at him. He let his hand drop on top of her head and waggled it gently in response. She made a noise in protest and grabbed his hand. 

“Alright. Be good for Bolts. I’ll see you later, ok?” She nodded and, quicker than lightning, ducked under his arm into a hug. He squeezed her and let his cheek rest on top of her head for a moment. 

He wasn’t going to say so, but knowing she’d be safe with an adult she trusted while he was gone was the only thing letting him go at all. 

“I’ll be right back, baby girl,” he murmured, and she squeezed him once more before letting go and watching him lead his horse to the gate. When he looked back after mounting up, she waved. 

He waved back and ignored the feeling that he was leaving his heart behind with every step his horse took. He knew it was good for them to be separated for a bit, knew he couldn’t let her live in his pocket forever, even if in the moment all he wanted was to turn around and go home.

. . . 

At dinner that night, Ellie sat much closer to him than usual. It comforted him, too, so he didn’t say anything. In between demands for stories about the (pretty boring, all things considered) patrol, he started to notice a pattern in her speech that he was pretty sure had been forming for a while, he just hadn’t noticed.

“Bolts said that Before, people used to put coins in machines and squish them, like, on purpose. And the machine would print a little design on them. That’s fucking wild! I thought money was important? Why would you squish it?”

“Bolts told me that Before people used to do something called glamping. Joel, did you ever go glamping? Why wouldn’t you just go normal camping? And why would you go camping on purpose at all? Didn’t you have a house?”

“When we were checking the storage area, Bolts found a box of staples, those little metal things you told me about! She let me staple some papers but then she said I had to stop because I was helping ‘a bit too enthusiastically and we only have so many staples, Ellie.’”

He knew he could trust her with Bolts, just based on the stories she told and what Tommy had said about her. But he’d never met her. Maybe it was time he made time to do that.

…

In the end, Joel didn’t make it over to Nuts ‘n Bolts for almost a week after he’d made up his mind to actually do it. The patrol had gone well, but Ellie had been more his shadow than ever afterwards, and he spent a lot of time reassuring her – and himself – that everything was fine.

Her teachers had suggested that she start attending the art class that happened in the afternoons at the school once a week on Tuesdays, and so Joel took advantage of her absence to go over and do Ellie’s usual pick up at the hardware shop.

As he walked up to the shop, he realized how strange it was that he’d been in town for so long and hadn’t actually been back there. When he stepped inside, he was again impressed with the meticulous organization and care. 

He recognized the handwriting on all of the shelf labels, now, the same handwriting that would appear on the labels in each of the boxes Ellie picked up on her errands.

Must be Bolts’, he thought to himself as he ran his fingers over the words “washers, 4mm” in clear, tidy handwriting.

“Afternoon,” a voice called from the back. “‘S that you, Ellie?”

Joel called back a greeting. “She has art class on Tuesdays, now,” he explained, voice raised a bit to be heard as he continued exploring the shelves. 

“Ooh, and how’s she feel about you taking over her job?” The voice was teasing, now, and it made him laugh. 

“She warned me I better do it right and be polite,” he said, and he heard a laugh from the back. He turned another corner and found hooks of all shapes and sizes carefully organized and displayed along a shelf. “Said I had a reputation to uphold.”

“She’s right,” the voice called, and he could hear the laugh in it. “It’s an important mantle you’re taking on, you know. And you must be Joel.”

He was grinning at a shelf of caulk, he realized, and blinked. “That’s me. And you must be Bolts? Or should I call you–” 

Another laugh interrupted him. “Bolts is fine! No one calls me anything but that around here.”

Joel was starting to feel like he was walking through a maze, looking for the corner to turn that would take him to the back, where the voice was coming from.

“I’ve heard all about you, you know,” Bolts called. “To hear Ellie tell it, there’s nothing you can’t do, you’re the tallest person alive, and you’re old as dirt.” He snorted. “Now, I know that’s not true from Tommy – maybe just old to a teenager, anyway – but I’ve been looking forward to seeing for myself.”

He couldn’t stop smiling. Walking through this maze of a hardware store was starting to feel like an out of body experience. He was pretty sure he was close, though, to figuring out where she was.

“I’ve heard quite a bit about you too, you know,” he said, and the warmth in his own voice startled him. “Ellie thinks the world of you.”

“She’s a special kid, Joel,” Bolts said, voice softer now, but a bit muffled. 

“She is,” he agreed, and finally turned the corner to where he was pretty sure she was working. He was right – down at the end of the row, at a makeshift sales counter, there was a woman.

He couldn’t tell if she was shorter than him – she was leaning over a box with almost her entire torso inside of it.

She had a very nice ass, he couldn’t help but notice, and her jeans did nothing to hide it.

He blinked away from it as she started to rise, and his eyes trailed along her spine. He stepped forward, and she must have heard because she turned.

And then his eyes met hers.

In all the times he’d been told about soulmates, either no one had ever said, or he hadn’t been paying attention when they did, that the music that played inside your head was loud.

Or maybe it wasn’t that way for everyone. Maybe it was just loud for them.

He looked into her eyes and just like that, his mind was taken over by the most beautiful music he’d ever heard. Tommy had said bells but theirs wasn’t bells – it was strings. Almost like a symphony inside his mind, rising and falling and swelling together into a crescendo that took his breath away.

He couldn’t move, could barely breathe, staring into the eyes of the woman who was his soulmate.

The song started to fade, and Bolts took a single step towards him, face breaking open with some emotion he couldn’t name. 

“Joel?” she said, one of her hands lifting towards him.

He blinked, and felt the space the music had left behind start to fill with panic.

He ran.

...

a/n: I know!! Joel, what are you doing?? find out next Tuesday in part 2! (and this fic has a happy ending, I promise)

[velvetvisionsaurora]

I’ve just recently been getting into Ateez! I know I know I’m late to the party. But your Gravity story is the first Ateez one I have read and you have set the bar sooooo sooooo high! I have decided I’m officially a Mingi girlie and your portrayal of his quite protective presence is spot on.

Can I request some over protective Mingi fluff. Something like were the MC is talking to another guy/idol and Mingi comes over and just picks her up and brings her back to the group without saying a word?

Can’t wait to read anything you put out!!!! 🏴‍☠️

The way I ran so fast to write this! 💜

Mine to Protect

Mingi x Reader

Warnings: none, cute fluffy protective Mingi

Four years of friendship with Song Mingi had taught you many things: he took his coffee with way too much sugar, he practiced his rap verses in the shower, and he had an uncanny ability to make you laugh even on your worst days. What those four years hadn't prepared you for was the way your heart would practically stop when he'd finally worked up the courage to kiss you three weeks ago.

It had happened so naturally – movie night at the dorms, your head on his shoulder during a particularly boring scene, and suddenly he was tilting your chin up with gentle fingers and asking, "Can I?" in the softest voice you'd ever heard from him.

You'd barely managed to nod before his lips were on yours, soft and tentative at first, then deeper when you melted into him completely. When you'd finally broken apart, breathless and staring at each other in wonder, Mingi had rested his forehead against yours and whispered, "I've wanted to do that for so long."

"Why didn't you?" you'd asked, your fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Because losing you would have broken me," he'd admitted, vulnerability shining in his eyes. "You're my best friend, my safe place. I couldn't risk it."

"You're not going to lose me," you'd promised, sealing it with another kiss that tasted like the popcorn you'd abandoned and something that was purely Mingi.

The transition from best friends to dating had been surprisingly smooth, like puzzle pieces finally clicking into place. The other members had just rolled their eyes and muttered "finally" when you'd shyly announced your new relationship status three days later.

"We've been watching you two dance around each other for years," Seonghwa had said with an amused shake of his head. "Hongjoong owes me twenty dollars."

"You bet on us?" you'd asked, scandalized.

"Honey, the whole company was betting on when Mingi would finally grow a pair," Wooyoung had added with his characteristic mischievous grin, earning a pillow to the face from said rapper.

But tonight was different. Tonight was your first public event as Mingi's girlfriend, and the butterflies in your stomach felt more like pterodactyls.

——

The music awards after-party was in full swing, filled with idols, staff, and industry professionals mingling under the soft glow of ambient lighting. You adjusted your dress nervously, still getting used to attending these events as Mingi's girlfriend rather than just his best friend.

"You look incredible tonight," Mingi had whispered in your ear earlier, his breath sending shivers down your spine – something that still felt wonderfully new. His hand had found yours naturally, fingers intertwining like they belonged there. "That dress is dangerous."

"Dangerous how?" you'd teased, enjoying the way his ears turned pink.

"Because I might not be able to keep my hands off you," he'd replied with that confident grin that made your knees weak, before pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "Stay close to me tonight?"

You'd promised you would, but somehow found yourself separated from the group when you'd gone to get a drink. The bar area was crowded, and you'd been waiting for several minutes when a familiar face approached.

"Y/N, right?" The voice belonged to Taehyun from another popular group, someone you'd met briefly at a few industry events. He was charming and well-known for being friendly with everyone. "I thought that was you. You look absolutely stunning tonight."

"Thank you," you replied politely, glancing around to see if you could spot any of the ATEEZ members nearby. "The party is incredible, isn't it?"

"It really is," he agreed, moving to stand beside you at the bar with practiced ease. "Can I buy you a drink? I was hoping I'd run into you tonight, actually. I've been curious about ATEEZ's mystery girl."

You accepted the drink with a grateful smile, not thinking much of the gesture. Taehyun was known for being a gentleman, and industry events were all about networking and being social anyway.

"Mystery girl?" you laughed. "I'm hardly mysterious. I'm just—"

"You're beautiful, that's what you are," he interrupted smoothly, leaning against the bar in a way that brought him closer to you. "You know, I was telling my members that I wanted to meet someone genuine, someone who understands this crazy industry but isn't jaded by it yet."

The conversation flowed easily enough, with Taehyun asking about your connection to ATEEZ and sharing stories about his own group's recent promotions. He was genuinely nice, but you couldn't shake the feeling that he was misreading the situation. Every time you tried to mention Mingi or clarify your relationship status, he seemed to steer the conversation elsewhere.

"I actually should get back to the guys," you said when there was a natural lull, setting down your nearly empty glass.

"Come on, just one more drink," Taehyun pressed, his smile widening as he signaled the bartender. "I promise I'm more interesting than I seem. You know what? We should grab coffee sometime, away from all this chaos. I know this quiet little place in Hongdae that's perfect for really getting to know someone."

His hand moved to rest on the bar beside you, and while the gesture wasn't aggressive, it effectively trapped you in the conversation. You felt a flutter of discomfort, not because Taehyun was being inappropriate, but because you weren't sure how to politely extract yourself without seeming rude or creating any industry drama.

"That's really sweet of you," you said carefully, "but I should mention that I'm actually seeing—"

That's when you felt it – a familiar presence behind you, like a shift in the air that made your shoulders relax automatically. The subtle scent of Mingi's cologne reached you first, followed by the warmth of his body as he stepped closer. You didn't need to turn around to know who it was; after years of friendship, you could sense Mingi's energy from across a room.

Strong arms wrapped around your waist from behind, and suddenly you were being lifted off your feet as if you weighed nothing. A small squeak of surprise escaped your lips, but you immediately melted into the familiar embrace.

"Mingi!" you laughed, your hands instinctively covering his arms as he held you against his chest.

He didn't say a word to Taehyun – didn't even acknowledge his existence. His grip on you was gentle but unmistakably possessive, and you could feel the tension in his muscles as he turned and began walking away, carrying you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

Behind you, you heard Taehyun's confused voice calling out, "Wait, I—" but Mingi was already weaving through the crowd, his long strides carrying you both away from the bar area.

"You can put me down, you know," you whispered, though you made no real effort to escape his hold. Truth be told, being cradled against Mingi's chest felt like coming home, and the jealous possessiveness in his actions sent a thrill through you that you probably shouldn't admit to.

"Not happening," he murmured into your hair, his voice low and determined. "Not until you're back where you belong."

Still silent, Mingi carried you through the crowd, his jaw set in determination. You caught glimpses of surprised faces and amused smiles from other party-goers, but Mingi seemed completely unbothered by the attention. He moved with purpose until he reached the corner where the rest of ATEEZ had gathered.

"And he returns with the princess," Wooyoung announced with a mischievous grin as Mingi finally set you down gently, keeping one arm securely around your waist.

"Was that really necessary?" you asked, looking up at your boyfriend with raised eyebrows, though you couldn't hide your amused smile. "Taehyun is actually really nice. He was just being friendly."

Mingi's confident exterior cracked slightly, revealing a mix of sheepishness and something darker. "He wasn't just being friendly," he muttered, his free hand rubbing the back of his neck – a nervous habit you'd noticed since your friendship began. "I watched him for ten minutes before I came over."

"You were watching me?" The thought sent another little thrill through you.

"I couldn't help it," he admitted, his ears turning pink. "You looked so beautiful tonight, and then I saw him lean in close, buy you a drink, stand way too close..." He trailed off, jaw clenching slightly.

"He asked for your number," Mingi continued, his voice matter-of-fact but tinged with something possessive that made your heart flutter. "And suggested a coffee date in Hongdae."

"And how exactly do you know that?" you challenged, though you were fighting back a smile at how protective he was being.

"I have excellent hearing," he replied seriously, causing Yunho to snort with laughter from nearby.

"Sure you do," Seonghwa added with a knowing look, appearing at your other side with an amused expression. "That's why you practically teleported across the room the moment you saw him lean too close."

"I did not teleport," Mingi protested, though his grip on you tightened slightly.

"Hyung, you literally interrupted our conversation mid-sentence to go save your girlfriend," Jongho chimed in, joining the growing circle of teasing members. "Hongjoong was trying to introduce you to that producer, and you just walked away."

"The producer will understand," Mingi said firmly, then looked down at you with an expression so tender it made your chest tight. "Some things are more important than business."

You turned in his arms to face him fully, reaching up to cup his cheek. The confidence was still there – it was impossible to miss in the way he held himself, the way his eyes never wavered from yours – but underneath it was something softer, more vulnerable.

"Mingi," you said gently, "we've been best friends for four years. Did you really think three weeks of dating would make me interested in someone else?"

"It's not about trust," he said quietly, his forehead resting against yours. "I remembered that we haven't told anyone outside the group about us yet. So to him, you're single. Available. And I can't stand the thought of anyone else thinking they have a chance with you."

"I'm yours," you confirmed softly, standing on your tiptoes to press a gentle kiss to his lips. "Have been for longer than you know. Even when we were just friends, it was always you."

When you pulled back, Mingi's smile was radiant, all traces of uncertainty gone. "Good," he said, the confidence returning to his voice as he pulled you against his side. "Because I'm not planning on letting anyone else get that close to you again."

"Even if it's just friendly conversation?" you teased.

"Especially then," he said seriously, making you laugh. "Friendly conversation is how it starts. Next thing you know, they're asking for coffee dates and complimenting your dress..."

"Complimenting my dress?" you interrupted with a grin. "Is that what this is really about? You're jealous that someone else noticed I look good tonight?"

Mingi's cheeks flushed, but he didn't deny it. "You look incredible," he said softly, his eyes roaming over you appreciatively. "That dress, your hair, your smile... I've been trying not to stare all night, and then I see some other guy getting to stand close enough to smell your perfume and—"

"Okay, okay!" Wooyoung interrupted loudly, covering his ears dramatically. "This is getting way too romantic for me. Can we please go back to making fun of Mingi's caveman rescue mission?"

"Never," Mingi declared dramatically, pressing a loud kiss to the top of your head that made you squeal and laugh.

As the evening continued, Mingi kept you close – not possessively, but protectively. His hand never left yours, and every so often he'd lean down to whisper something that made you laugh or blush. When other people approached to talk, he was polite but made it crystal clear that you were with him.

"You know, we should probably talk about going public soon," you said during a quiet moment, watching as another industry figure glanced between you and Mingi with obvious curiosity. "People are starting to ask questions."

"Let them ask," Mingi replied, pressing a kiss to your temple. "But you're right. I want everyone to know you're mine."

"Yours?" you raised an eyebrow teasingly. "That's very possessive of you, Song Mingi."

"Only when it comes to you," he admitted without shame. "Four years of watching other guys flirt with you and not being able to do anything about it was torture. Now that I can finally call you mine..." He trailed off with a shrug that was anything but casual.

"You could have done something about it years ago," you pointed out, bumping his shoulder with yours. "I wasn't exactly subtle about my feelings either."

"Weren't you though?" Mingi laughed. "You dated that guy from your university for six months. I thought I'd missed my chance completely."

"That was a rebound relationship because I thought you'd never see me as more than a friend!" you protested. "And you started avoiding me whenever he was around."

"Because it killed me to see you with someone else," he confessed, pulling you into a quiet alcove away from the main party. "Even before I admitted to myself that I was in love with you, the thought of you with anyone else made me crazy."

Later, as the party wound down and you found yourselves on a quieter balcony overlooking the city, you wrapped your arms around Mingi's waist and looked up at him with a soft smile.

"You know I can take care of myself, right?" you said gently. "I did it just fine for four years before you finally made a move."

Mingi chuckled, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer. "Don't remind me how long it took me to get my act together. Hongjoong still teases me about how obvious I was."

"Obvious?" you laughed, leaning into his warmth. "Mingi, I thought you saw me as just a friend until you kissed me! You were terrible at showing your feelings."

"I was terrified of ruining our friendship," he admitted, his chin resting on top of your head. "You were too important to lose over feelings. But the number of times I wanted to punch guys who hit on you..."

"Like tonight?" you teased.

"Tonight was different," he said, his arms tightening around you. "Tonight you're actually mine, and I don't have to pretend it doesn't bother me anymore."

You turned in his arms to face him, reaching up to trace the line of his jaw. "I love that you want to protect me," you said softly. "But you know you don't have to worry, right? It's always been you, Mingi."

His eyes softened, and he leaned down to rest his forehead against yours. "Promise me something?"

"Anything."

"Promise me that if anyone ever makes you uncomfortable, you'll find me immediately. I don't care if I'm in the middle of an interview, a meeting, or performing on stage. I want to be the one who protects you."

The intensity in his voice made your heart skip. "I promise," you whispered.

"Mine to protect," he said simply, echoing his earlier words. "Mine to care for. Mine to love."

And when he kissed you this time, soft and sweet under the Seoul night sky, you knew that being Mingi's – and him being yours – was exactly where you belonged.

"I love you," he whispered against your lips, the words finally spoken aloud after dancing around them all evening.

"I love you too," you replied, smiling so wide it hurt. "My overprotective, jealous, wonderful boyfriend."

"Your boyfriend who's going to carry you away from any guy who even thinks about flirting with you," he added with a grin that was equal parts mischievous and sincere.

"Promise?" you teased.

"Promise," he confirmed, sealing it with another kiss that tasted like champagne and forever.

In the distance, you could hear the other ATEEZ members calling for you both, probably ready to head back to the dorms. But for this moment, wrapped in Mingi's arms with the city lights twinkling below and his heart beating steadily against yours, the rest of the world could wait.

After all, you had forever to figure out this whole dating thing. But one thing was certain – you'd never have to wonder if Song Mingi would fight for you. Tonight had made that abundantly clear.

"Come on," he said eventually, taking your hand and intertwining your fingers. "Let's go home."

Home. With Mingi, that word had taken on a whole new meaning, and you couldn't wait to explore what it would become.

[nehi-soda]

Push Your Luck -

Jackson!Joel Miller x Female Reader

Explicit; Minors DNI 18+ only.

Summary: You loved lying with Joel and listening to his music, but tonight, your need for him was impossible to ignore. So you decided to push—just a little. Maybe tonight, you would be lucky.

Word count: 2.6K

Warnings: established relationship but reader’s first sexual encounter with Joel, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected P in V sex, pulling out method as a form of contraception (be safe, don't be like them), descriptions of arousal and masturbation, fluff, smut, general filth, dirty talk, grumpy!joel, a dash of soft!joel, jackson!joel, cum, saliva, pet names (honey, baby, darlin'). No use of Y/N. Mood board is for aesthetics only; the reader's features aren't specified.

A/N: This was inspired by these images by @elliespuns, which have been playing on my mind and making me feral. Enjoy!

Joel's room was warm, the gentle crackle of his old records filling the quiet space with the soft hum of Johnny Cash. You were both sprawled on his bed like usual, your right leg resting over his rough jeans, a comfortable mess of limbs. The quiet between you wasn’t awkward—just the kind of stillness that comes after the world outside has been shut out for the night.

Joel had one arm tucked under his head, his other hand resting on the curve of your hip. His thumb absentmindedly traced lazy circles on your skin. But what he didn’t know—what he was completely unaware of—was that those small, soft touches were driving you insane. Each pass of his thumb sent ripples of heat straight to your core, making it impossible to think about anything other than how badly you wanted him.

Every time his skin grazed yours, your body responded, a subtle shift of your hips, a quiet shudder in your breath. The warmth of him pressed against you, the solid weight of his body beside yours—it only made the ache between your legs grow sharper.

You bit your lip, fighting the urge to move, to press yourself against him, to grind your hips just enough to get some relief. You wondered if he could feel the heat rolling off your body, the throbbing need emanating from between your thighs.

His gaze was distant, fixed somewhere on the ceiling, lost in thoughts you couldn’t quite reach. There was always that slight hesitation in him, a part of him that held back, even when you were this close.

You shifted slightly, turning toward him, your fingers playing with the buttons of his flannel shirt. Joel’s breath hitched, and you noticed how his muscles tightened under your touch.

Without saying anything, you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the edge of his jaw. His stubble brushed your lips, rough and familiar. He closed his eyes as if surrendering to the moment, even if just for a second.

“Joel,” you whispered against his skin, the sound of his name more of a comfort than a question. Your lips moved lower, trailing a path down his neck, slow and deliberate, feeling his pulse beneath your mouth. He exhaled, a sound caught between a sigh and a groan, his hands resting on your hips as if he was trying to hold himself back, trying to keep some semblance of control.

His shirt was already half undone, so you pushed it open the rest of the way, revealing his thickly tufted chest. He was broad, built from years of hard work and survival, but there was a softness there, too, a gentle curve to his belly that you adored. His skin was smooth but scattered with old scars and faint marks, each one telling a different story of a life lived in a world that hadn’t been kind.

Your lips found the base of his throat again, lingering there for a moment before you started your descent. You trailed tender kisses down his chest like drops of rain rolling down weathered stone. 

“What are you doin’?” He asked, almost sounding annoyed.

You didn’t answer, instead you dragged your tongue across his pec, feeling the way his breath caught as you moved lower, tasting the salt on his skin. His chest rose and fell beneath your lips. He tensed as you kissed down to his belly. You nipped at the flesh there, teasing him, hearing the low growl that rumbled up from his throat, a warning or maybe an invitation.

Your hands gripped his sides as you made your way down, slow and purposeful, your lips grazing the faint trail of hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans. The heat radiating from his body was intense, pulling you in. His scent was raw and earthy, a mix of leather and something so uniquely Joel —it was all so intoxicating.

You’d never gotten past this point without him tugging you back, always stopping you before things could go any further. He was the one who kept that line drawn—held it tight. 

When you reached the top of his jeans, you slid off the edge of the bed to settle between his legs, your bare knees sinking onto the rug beneath you. Your lips pressed to the spot just above where the denim began, breathing him in more.

His cock already strained against the fabric of his jeans, the outline thick and urgent, demanding attention. 

It would be rude not to oblige.

You unbuckled his belt slowly and undid his jeans, your fingers brushing against him as you pulled back the fabric. He let out a deep breath as you ran your hand over him, feeling the heat, the need that he was trying so hard to hold back. “Relax,” you murmured, freeing his cock out of the waistband of his boxers. “Let me take care of you.”

Your hands gripped his thighs as you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the base of his cock. He groaned, his hand coming to tangle in your hair, not pulling, just holding, as if he wasn’t sure if he should let you continue. “Baby, you don’t have to…” Joel’s voice was rough, strained with the effort of keeping himself in check, but you could hear the desperation in it, the way his words trailed off as you licked a slow, teasing line up the length of him, tasting him. You looked up, meeting his gaze as you took him into your mouth. His hazel eyes darkened as you started to move, your tongue swirling around the head of his cock, teasing the sensitive underside before taking him deeper. Stop being so nice, you wanted to say to him.

“Fuck,” Joel hissed, his head falling back as you set a steady rhythm, your hot mouth working him over with a practised ease that had him groaning, his hips jerking up involuntarily. You loved the way he responded to you, the way his body betrayed the control he tried so hard to maintain, the way he was falling apart under your touch.

You took your time. You wanted him to feel good. The soft clink of his belt was a monotonous beat to your movements. Joel’s fingers clung onto your hair, sending pleasant tingles to your scalp, his grip tightening as you increased the pace, taking him deeper, feeling him grow harder in your mouth. His moans filled the room, his voice a low, desperate sound that made you so wet. You could feel him getting close, his body trembling as he fought to hold back. “Shit,” he gasped, trying to pull back, but you didn’t let him. You wanted to give this to him, to let him lose himself in the pleasure, to show him that with you, he didn’t have to be in control all the time.

He was big, bigger than you were used to. Your eyes stung, tears blurring your vision as you fought to take him deeper, every inch of him filling your mouth so well. It was intense, and the mess only made it better— you could feel the sloppy trail of your saliva running down his shaft, gathering around your fingers as they gripped what your mouth couldn’t take, desperate to keep up with the size and the pace.

A mixture of your spit and his precum pooled at his base, slick and messy, dripping down onto his jeans. You think he liked seeing you like this, eyes watering, lips stretched around him, struggling to take all of him in. The way his cock throbbed told you as much, each twitch between your lips as you hollowed your cheeks, his size pressing against the back of your throat.

“Yeah, filthy little mouth... takin’ it all like that,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

And there it was.You knew he couldn’t be a gentleman with you all the time.

Your jaw ached, your throat tightened, and you could feel your body rebelling, but the thrill of it kept you going, pushing you to take more, to make him feel every desperate, hungry inch of your mouth. You took him as far as your body would allow until you were gagging and forced to draw back, spluttering for air.

His cock glistened, throbbing in your hand as you stroked him slowly, dragging out every second of his pleasure.

“Christ... you are a filthy thing, aren’t ya,” he rasped, his accent thick as the words rolled off his tongue. 

The way he looked at you like you were the most depraved, beautiful sight he’d ever seen sent a wave of heat straight to your aching pussy. Fuck he was so handsome. You could feel yourself dripping, your own arousal pooling between your legs, soaking through the fabric of your panties, desperate for any sort of relief.

You smiled up at him, lips still wet and swollen from where you’d had him, your eyes gleaming. 

The way you looked—sweet, sinful, shameless— made something flash in his eyes and his cock twitch in your hand.

“Don’t go lookin’ at me like that,” he muttered, voice low and rough, the warning in his tone almost lost in the sheer need coursing through him. But you didn’t back down, didn’t look away, just smiled wider, eyes locked on his, waiting to see how far he’d let you push him before he broke.

“What, you like suckin’ cock or somethin'?” 

You didn’t flinch. Instead, you tilted your head slightly, licking your lips as you held his gaze, your hand still lazily stroking his length.

“Only yours,” you whispered, your voice husky as your thumb swirled around the tip of his cock again, collecting more of that wetness. You leaned in, letting your breath ghost over him, close enough that he could feel the heat of your mouth, but just out of reach, playing with him, making him wait for it.

The low groan that rumbled from his chest told you everything. His grip in your hair tightened, that roughness in him rising up again.

“Only mine,” he laughed, half under his breath, letting his head fall back against the bed. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he groaned, hips jerking forward, pushing his cock closer to your waiting lips, telling you he didn’t want you to stop. Not now. Not ever.

Your lips parted, and you took him in again, slow and deep, letting him feel just how much you wanted him. Your hands gripped his thighs, fingers digging into the hard muscle, anchoring yourself as you moved faster.

His hips moved with you now, fucking your mouth with deep thrusts, each one bringing him closer to that sweet release you both craved.

You could feel him losing it, his body taut, every muscle straining as his cock pulsed harder against your tongue. He was close—so fucking close.

You stood up and hiked up your dress, the fabric bunching at your hips as you climbed on top of him. Your knees sank into the mattress on either side of his broad body. He barely had time to catch his breath before your hands were on his chest, and you were grinding down against him, your soaked panties brushing against the hard length of him.

Joel’s eyes widened just a fraction, that flicker of surprise quickly replaced by raw need as he felt your heat. His hands instinctively came up to grip your hips, fingers digging into your flesh, urging you on. You didn’t waste any time—your hand slipped between your legs, pulling your panties to the side, exposing yourself to him, wet and ready.

You lined him up, the head of his cock nudging against your entrance, teasing, torturing him for a moment before you sank down onto him in one quick motion. The stretch was immediate and intense as he filled you completely, every thick inch of him sliding deep inside you. Your breath hitched, a low moan escaping your lips as your walls clenched around him, taking him in until there was nothing left to take.

“Goddamn, honey,” Joel groaned, voice strained as he felt you squeeze him. His head tipped back, jaw clenched. 

You didn’t give yourself a chance to adjust—you started moving, rolling your hips, grinding down on him, taking him deeper with each thrust. You braced your hands on his chest, fucking him harder, faster with everything you had. His cock pulsed inside you, hitting that perfect spot with every movement, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You moaned, head falling back as you lost yourself in the feeling of him inside you.

“Jesus Christ,” Joel rasped, a hand bunching your dress, his other gripping your ass now, pulling you down harder onto him, guiding you, urging you to take it harder. His hips bucked up to meet your movements, fucking into you from below.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” you whispered, voice low, teasing, grinding your hips against him slowly, making sure he felt every needy inch of you, how wet you were for him. “You love being deep inside my pussy, Joel… don’t pretend otherwise.”

He groaned, fingers digging into your hips, his breath coming out ragged, but he couldn’t muster a response.

“You like watching me take it all, don’t you?” you continued, leaning down so your lips hovered just above his, your breath hot against his skin. “Seeing how fucking desperate I am for your cock. You feel that?”

A deep growl rumbled in his chest. “Fuck… I feel it,” he strained, “Keep talkin' like that and I ain’t gonna last, darlin’.”

You smiled wickedly, rolling your hips in that slow, teasing rhythm, feeling every inch of him stretch you, fill you up in a way that made your whole body tremble. The heat between your thighs was intense, a clawing, pulsing ache that begged for more. You moaned, the sound low and breathless, your hands gripping his chest for balance as you rocked your hips again, the friction of your clit rubbing against the roughen hair at the base of his cock, sending shocks of pure bliss through your whole body.

“God, you feel so fucking good inside me, Joel,” you moaned. Every movement had you teetering on the edge, the way his cock brushed against that spot deep inside that made your legs shake. 

“Oh, fuck!” Your voice broke, shaking as your orgasm ripped through you, leaving you trembling and breathless. Your hands clung to his chest and flannel for support as you rode out the aftershocks, your thighs quivering around him, your release coating his cock as you ground down on him, drawing out every last bit of your pleasure.

Joel groaned, clearly on the edge himself, his cock throbbing as you tightened around him, making it harder for him to hold on. His breath came in ragged bursts.

“Shit—gotta pull out,” he growled, pulling out his cock.

His grip tightened as he lifted you just enough, sliding out of you, his cock twitching desperately. The sudden emptiness left you still aching with need, but you watched as he grabbed himself, stroking fast, desperate, along his thick shaft.

He moaned, deep and guttural, as he came hard, hot ropes of cum spilling across his hairy stomach. His chest rose and fell in rapid, uneven breaths as the last of his release dripped from the head of his cock on to the mess he’d made of himself.

“See, wasn’t so bad, was it, Joel?” you teased, your voice full of satisfaction.

“Don’t push your luck,” he grumbled.

divider credit to @saradika-graphics

[sugurow]

Stay the night ?

summary : You’ve been best friends with Fratboy Gojo Satoru since freshman year, the golden boy of his frat, all big smiles and loud parties, always dragging you along despite your refusal to drink or smoke. But somewhere between late-night parties, quiet mornings, and the way he looks at you when he thinks you don’t notice… something shifts. And once the line blurs, there’s no going back.

pairing : satoru gojo x y/n

warnings : 18+, smut with plot, foreplay, cussing, mentions of alcohol and drugs, mild angst.

word count : 7.9k

art in cover by thatsallitchief

“You’re wearing that?” Gojo leans against the doorframe of your dorm, grinning like the devil himself.

You glance down at your square neck shirt and sweatpants, “Yeah? What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing, if you’re planning to do my econ homework instead of going to the biggest party of the semester.” He winks. “But if you want to stand next to me all night, you might want to up the hot factor.”

You roll your eyes and grab your phone. Mind you, that shirt was not cheap. “I’m not trying to impress anyone.”

He snorts. “Yeah, that’s the problem.”

You flip him off after slipping your shoes on. He grins.

“Well I suppose it’s fine, you only need to impress me.”

-

You don’t drink. Never have. Don’t like the taste, don’t like the way it makes people sloppy. But Gojo? Gojo swims in red solo cups like he was born in one. He’s loud and stupid and radiant at these parties, throwing his arms around people like everyone’s his best friend.

But only you get the crooked grin he saves for when the music’s too loud and he leans in to say, “You good?”

Only you get the protective arm when the crowd gets too pushy. Only you get the water bottle he pulls from nowhere and hands you without asking.

You don’t drink, don’t smoke, don’t party, but you go to all of them. Because he’s there.

Because he always wants you there. Stuck to his side every weekend since freshman year.

-

You’re sitting on the couch, half-listening to Shoko recounting a story about a tequila shot gone wrong, when Gojo stumbles over. His cheeks are pink, smile lazy, tie askew.

He plops down beside you, too close, thigh pressed against yours. That was Shoko’s cue to get up out of there for another drink.

“Hey.” He leans his head on your shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Why aren’t you talking to anyone?”

“I am talking. Kind of.” You nudge him. “And you’re drunk.”

“Mmm. Buzzed. Drunk’s a little harsh, sweetheart.” He turns to look at you, his voice growing softer now. “You tired? We can go.”

You blink. “You don’t want to stay?”

“I only come to these things for the vibes.” His lips twist up. “And the vibes leave when you look like you wanna disappear into the couch of doom.” He chuckles at his corny remark.

You can’t help but laugh at how stupid that sounded. “You’re such a liar. You come to these to show off. Beer pong king, or whatever you call yourself.”

He scoffs dramatically, acting like you just cursed his whole made up championship. “Excuse you. And also, I can’t show off if my best girl looks bored out of her mind.”

Best girl.

Your chest does a stupid fluttering thing.

-

Later, after he’s done fake punching his frat brothers goodbye, you walk back together in the cold night air. The party is still thumping in the distance, but Gojo’s quiet now, hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets.

You’re thankful that you didn’t bother to change your outfit and worn heels despite having him mog you the entire night. You don’t get how the others can stand up for this long without taking a break on the many seats spread out the room.

“You didn’t have to leave early,” you murmur, “You were having fun.”

“I wasn’t.” He glances sideways. “Not really.”

You look at him, eyebrows furrowing. “Why?”

He shrugs. “I dunno. It’s just… less fun when you’re not smiling.”

And just like that, you’re melting again. It’s so unfair the way he does this, hides soft confessions under jokes and alcohol.

You stop walking. “Looks like chivalry isn’t dead after all.”

There’s a beat of silence before you ask, heart stupidly hopeful, “Why do you always want me there?”

Satoru blinks, confused. “Huh?”

“At the parties. You could go with anyone. You could go with a different girl every week if you wanted to. Not to boost your ego or anything.” You try to keep your voice even, whispering the last part. “But you always ask me.”

Gojo goes still. His eyes drop to your mouth for a half second too long.

Then he says, “Because it’s you.”

That’s it. Like it explains everything.

“Because I like being around you,” he continues, quieter now. “Because I feel better when you’re there. Because it’s not really fun unless I can turn around and see you rolling your eyes at me across the room.”

Your throat goes dry. “Satoru…”

He steps a little closer. His voice is low, nervous, like he’s trying, like he’s fighting himself.

“I always thought you weren’t into guys like me,” he says. “Loud. Messy. Frat-boy reputation and all that.”

You smile, heart racing. “I thought you weren’t into girls like me. Quiet. No fun. Buzzkill.”

Gojo laughs, short and disbelieving. “You think you’re no fun? You’re the only person who keeps me sane, nerd. You’re the only reason I don’t blow up this whole damn house sometimes.”

You both stare at each other. Your side eye upon hearing him call you a nerd vanishing. The wind picks up. Somewhere, someone’s yelling about beer pong.

And then, slowly, he reaches out, curling his pinky around yours.

Not a kiss. Not yet. “I’m so glad I talked to you that evening at Suguru’s party.”

“Be thankful for Shoko for ditching us,” You chuckle.

The first party you attended was during freshman year. You were sorta known but not known enough to be considered ‘popular’. You were sweet and smiled at people passing by.

Shoko had dragged you around with her, freezing at random places to greet people she knew, leaving you standing there awkwardly because you didn’t know them. Finally she stopped to greet Gojo, entering a conversation before departing when she heard someone yell “Shots!”

You picked at your freshly painted nails, looking everywhere except at the white haired man with pearly blue eyes, standing in front of you. You tried to look natural, so did Gojo. Which was weird because he can usually talk to anybody without a problem, except you. Why was he so shy?

“You coming to next week’s party?” he asks, trying to sound casual as you reach your dorm.

You grin. “Only if you’re saving me a seat.”

His smile is brighter than the streetlights.

“Always. Maybe on my lap this time.”

You roll your eyes, forcing yourself not to smile at his cheesy way of flirting. “Whatever. Are you sleeping here tonight?”

He doesn’t hesitate to nod, yawning as he locked your dorm door and guiding the both of you towards your room. He had his hand placed on the small of your back, his droopy eyes scanning around for the remote of your LED lights.

“Satoru. Just leave it, I’ll turn on my lamp,” you suggested while laying him down on the bed beside you. You reached over your desk, turning on the sunset lamp you had purchased not too long ago. The orangey-yellow hues brightening the corner of the room it was pointed at.

“Awe but the blue LED lights bring me some sort of ease,” he blabbers, like he was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince you.

“Only blue though. Red is for..” He trialed off, making you roll your eyes knowing exactly where he was going with this. “You know.” He whispers in your ear.

Sometimes you question yourself if best friends do these types of stuff. Satoru always flirts, always looking at you with a glint in his eyes that he doesn’t have with anyone else, always cuddling with you when you two get home after a party, and always lingering closer than a best friend should be. Is he just being Satoru or is it more.

You pinch his ear before letting go. “Satoru,” You warned.

He winced. “Ow! Okay okay, I get it.”

He rubbed his ear and pulled you on top of him with his free hand, resting your head against his chest. His let go and slowly his hands found their way to your back, like they belong there, gently soothing you to sleep.

Sometimes, when you’re lucky. Satoru will sleep without snoring. When you’re extra lucky he won’t kick you in his sleep.

-

You don’t hate the frat parties.

The music is always too loud. Someone’s always spilling beer two inches from your shoes. And you inevitably end up being the only sober person in a sea of chaos.

But you come anyway. Every single time. Because Satoru always looks at you like you’re the only person that matters in the room.

This time you took the liberty of dressing up.

“You’re glowing tonight, Y/n,” Geto smirks over the lip of his cup, watching Satoru trail behind you like a six-foot puppy with no leash.

Satoru Gojo, dressed in a white shirt and black basketball shorts, a back hoodie throwing over his shoulder, beer in one hand, joint behind his ear like a decoration.

“I didn’t even put on makeup,” you say, sipping a cup of soda.

“Exactly,” Shoko chimes in from the corner. “You don’t have to.”

Gojo shoots them both a glare. “Back off.”

“Ohhh, possessive,” Toji whistles, lounging against the kitchen island. “You two still pretending you’re just friends?”

“We are friends,” Satoru says automatically, even as he casually adjusts your dress straps for you, fingers brushing your arm. “She just likes coming with me.”

“I like the free soda,” you lie, avoiding everyone’s knowing looks. You won’t deny that it hurt whenever he claims you two were merely just ‘friends’

The truth is, you like going with him.

Not because of the parties. Not because of the attention, even though you know you get it pretty girls always do, especially when they walk in beside Satoru Gojo with his arm slung across their shoulders like it belongs there.

You like it because the second you step into that house, it’s like the world goes quiet.

Because Satoru never lets you fade into the background. Because he always saves you a seat, always brings you a drink, always remembers the straw. Because even while he’s being loud and stupid with his friends, he’s glancing over to check if you’re okay.

Because you feel like his person.

Even if he’s never said it.

“You sure you’re not cold?” he asks for the third time, tugging at the strap of your dress, an odd habit of his.

“You already offered me your hoodie, Satoru.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the thick one. Next time I’ll bring that big stupid one with the sherpa lining. The one you said made me look like a polar bear.”

You laugh. “You do look like a polar bear in it.”

He grins, bright and unbothered. “A sexy polar bear, though.”

You roll your eyes, but your smile betrays you.

He always makes you smile.

-

From room to room, drink to drink, lap to lap of conversation but always together. If Gojo’s talking to Suguru in the kitchen, you’re leaning against the counter next to him, sipping something fizzy from his cup.

If you’re chatting with Maki and Panda in the living room, Gojo is lounging behind you, long legs spread across the couch, one arm looped lazily around your waist.

He doesn’t need to speak every second, he just likes touching you. A thigh against yours, fingers brushing your wrist, your knee tucked over his. Like the silence between you two is just as loud as his voice.

-

Later, when the music slows and the crowd thins, you’re sitting together in the back room again, away from the chaos.

Gojo’s legs are stretched out. Yours are tucked under you. His hoodie hangs heavy on your frame, and you swear you’ve never felt safer.

He watches you like he always does when he thinks you’re not looking, like he’s memorizing you. His blue eyes wide like saucers.

“You know you don’t have to come to these,” he says suddenly, voice softer than before. “I wouldn’t be mad.”

“I know.”

“But you do anyway.”

You meet his eyes. “I only come for you. Not for the lukewarm beer, the music, nor the stupid ‘fun’ you boys claim to have.”

The words hang there. Undeniable. A little scary.

Gojo swallows. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

He leans his head back against the couch, exhales slowly.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Geto says, walking into the room and seeing the two of you curled up like a rom-com final scene. “If you’re gonna pin this hard, at least kiss her so we can all stop pretending you aren’t madly in love.”

“Geto, shut up,” Gojo groans, ruffling his hair over his eyes.

You laugh, really laugh and squeeze Gojo’s hand tighter.

“Ignore them,” he says under his breath. “They’re just jealous I have the prettiest girl here.”

You look at him sideways. “You’re such a flirt.”

He leans in, brushing his nose against your temple.

“You always say that, sweetheart,” he whispers “Only with you.”

Like a typical frat party the voices of jocks rang into your ear as they yelled out for Gojo to join them.

“Beer pong champion, they’re looking for you,” you chuckle.

Gojo groans, “Duty calls.”

He winks your way before shooting up and walking to the table, ready for another match. You giggle at his antics. There is truly never a dull moment in the parties whenever he’s around.

-

You’re back in your corner of the room, phone in hand pretending to be busy so you can avoid unwanted conversations. You hear Shoko calling your name from across the room but you know if you got up you’d get dragged into an endless conversation with her and Maki.

You flash her a smile before returning back to your phone, opening and closing it. Your wallpaper was set on photo roulette mode, the background changes whenever you close it. You had set the pictures to be of you and Gojo, sometimes pictures of landscapes.

It wasn’t weird to have your ‘bestfriend’ as your lock screen, he has you as his. It wasn’t weird to have a polaroid of the two of you behind your clear phone case. No. It felt natural.

“Y/n, come on.” Maki drags you by the arm, making you stand up from the soft seated couch. “Live a little.”

You close your phone once again before walking behind her. “I am living. Last time I checked, I was breathing perfectly fine,” you joked.

All you got was an eye roll from Maki, making you chuckle.

“Smartass.” She says as she handed you a cup filled with juice. The people who usually attend know you don’t drink. They knew you’d refuse, handing them back the cup every time they’d try and convince you to at least try whatever concoction they created. Probably a mixture of don julio and hennessy. The liquor Satoru usually drinks if he wants to change it up from his usual beers.

It’s sort of weird. Satoru doesn’t smell bad per say. He smelt like a hint of alcohol or a little bit of weed, but he never smelt bad. You’d light his blunts for him with the lighter you carry around because you know how whiney he gets after realizing he forgot his. He says it kills his entire vibe even though he forgets about it 10 minutes later.

He didn’t smell like the other frat boys. You never had to make a face or look the opposite way whenever he comes close to you.

Satoru smells like Satoru. He smells like his expensive cologne that he claims to be “trending” all over the fragrance part of tiktok. He smelt like home.

Cheers echoed loudly, overpowering the loud speakers playing jersey beats. A group of boys chanting Satoru’s name, over and over again. A clear indication that the ‘Beer pong champion’ claimed another victory. Really, you don’t even know why people still want to challenge him.

Maki soon drifted apart from you, finding her way to the kitchen for another drink. You stood near a wall, staring off into the distance, your hand clutching your phone.

You glanced down, checking the time. It’s currently past midnight. The party is still alive as it was when it first started. Sukuna was well known to throw successful parties.

You sighed, your feet ache, your head was starting to hurt, and your eyes were drooping. Yet you never once thought about leaving without Gojo by your side. You’re in charge of making sure he even makes it back to his dorm.

-

Later close to 3 am the party was finally dying down. People getting dragged out by their more sober friends, some who didn’t even make it outside of the door, laying unconscious on the floor. The air smelt like heavy smoke and alcohol.

Red cups everywhere, ash trays left on the tables while decorations once hanging up were now on the ground.

You made your way through the hallway, looking for the 6 foot usual ball of energy. Your eyes scanned around before finally landing on him. Gojo stumbling a little bit, walking towards you with a doopey grin.

“Satoru,” you whispered, hiding back a smile “you’re drunk.”

“No sweetheart, I told you- not drunk! just buzzed.”

He draped an arm around your shoulder, his other one finding its way to your waist, holding it like he always does. His head rests against your shoulder, his white hair tickling your face.

“Let’s get out of here, please,” he said, mumbling the last part.

You didn’t hesitate to let him lean up against you while you guided the both of you outside. The fresh air, free from the pollution called frat parties, filling your lungs.

You took a deep breath while Gojo mumbled drunk words against your skin. “Mhmmm sleepy.”

With a sigh you hurried up your pace, practically dragging him towards your dorm. “Almost there.”

The moment you entered your room Gojo collapsed onto your bed, body sprawled out and eyes closed. Not a care in the world. ‘Buzzed’ he claims.

You placed a hand on your forehead, sighing in exhaustion. Inspecting the sight in front of you you realize his shirt was beginning to ride up his stomach, his v line peeking from under his toned abs. You caught yourself, quickly shaking your head and looking away.

You throw a blanket over him, turning around to close your lights and turning the lights he claims that soothes him. The clock on your desk read 4 am.

You hear Satoru mumble your name from under the covers, making you look down at him. “Y/n..”

You hum before slipping under the white, strawberry patterned duvet, “Mhm?”

“I love you,” he whispers casually. You freeze

‘What?’ was the first thing you can think of. You open your mouth but failed to speak any words, not even a sound came out. You forced yourself to speak up, not wanting to ruin the moment or make him feel like you don’t love him back.

But then doubt kicks in, what if he’s just babbling drunk thoughts? No, you can’t embarrass yourself.

“Satoru you should probably go brush your teeth-“ Snore.

You let out a loud groan. Tonight seemed to be one of the unlucky ones. Satoru was snoring and drooling.

-

And that was it. You never mentioned it and he didn’t seem to remember it.

Since then, things have been… weird.

Not on the surface. Gojo’s still Gojo. Still texts you dumb memes. He still touches you a little too much. Still throws his arm around your shoulders when you’re standing around campus. Still looks at you like you’ve hung the stars. Still acts like you’re the best part of every room he walks into.

But the closeness feels different now. Too sharp. Too hopeful. Too dangerous.

Because what if none of it meant anything? What if it’s just him being him? And what if you read too much into it?

He’s Gojo Satoru. King of the party scene. Six foot something, frat boy energy, infuriatingly good looking. And you’re… just you.

-

So you retreat.

You don’t mean to. You tell yourself you’re just busy.

You bury yourself in schoolwork. In your job. In every commitment you can find. You say yes to every extra shift at the campus cafe. You start getting ahead on assignments no one’s assigned yet. You even ignore a couple of his texts, not ghosting him, just spacing them out. Being “busy.” Master of sabotage.

You don’t mean to pull away, but you do. No more late night calls. No more tagging along to parties. No more pretending like your heart doesn’t race every time he looks at you too long.

If he noticed something changed, he didn’t say it.

If he cared, he’d say something… right?

You’re not mad at him.

You’re mad at yourself for thinking, even for a second, that someone like him could fall for someone like you.

-

The knock comes just after 10 p.m.

It’s late and you’re halfway through writing an essay that isn’t due for another week. Your eyes are bleary, you’re wearing the same hoodie from yesterday, and your room’s lit only by your laptop screen and a half-dead string of fairy lights.

You almost don’t answer.

But then you hear his voice:

“Y/n? You in there?”

Your stomach twists.

You debate not answering. You debate crawling under your desk and pretending you’re asleep. But your feet move on their own, and when you open the door, there he was.

Gojo Satoru, in a hoodie and joggers, hair pushed back like he’s been pacing. His usual cocky grin is nowhere to be found.

“Hey,” he says, voice softer than usual. “Can I come in?”

You step aside.

He walks in like your room is familiar. Because it is.

And you realize, painfully, that this is the longest you’ve gone without seeing him. He looks you over really looks and his eyes drop to the pile of papers on your desk, the untouched dinner, the overstuffed planner on your nightstand.

“What’s going on with you?” he asks after a long beat. “You’ve been distant. And don’t say it’s just ‘school.’”

You hesitate. Then go with the safest answer: “I’ve been busy.”

“You’ve always been busy,” he says gently. “But not like this.”

You busy yourself gathering papers off your desk. “I didn’t think you’d notice.”

He looks almost hurt by that. “Of course I noticed. Busy for you is good… I suppose, but not like this. Not when it’s hurting you.”

Something bubbles in your chest, something ugly and sad and fragile. “I don’t know what you want from me, Satoru.”

He tilts his head. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… I don’t know. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I just-“

His lips part like he’s about to speak, but you rush on.

“You say things. You look at me like I matter. But then nothing happens. I have constant self doubt, no matter what. I can never convince myself that what I’m doing is right and not a mistake. And I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t mess with me.”

It’s the closest you’ve ever come to saying I like you.

You don’t look at him.

You’re afraid of what’s on his face, pity? Confusion? Worse?

Instead, you say, quietly, “Maybe I just needed space to figure it out.”

Gojo is silent for a long moment. Then he exhales, stepping closer. Your heart stutters.

“No, you don’t,” he adds when you don’t respond. “Because if you did, you wouldn’t be trying to disappear on me.”

You meet his eyes then and it nearly breaks you.

Because there’s no teasing in his expression. No smirk. Just raw honesty.

You whisper. “I thought if I said anything, it would ruin it, you know, us being best friends. I’m not really the venting type of person.”

He smiles, but it’s soft. Tired. “You pulling away is what almost ruined it.”

You blink, trying to swallow the knot in your throat.

He steps even closer, toeing the edge of your personal space like he always does.

“And I’m not gonna stop trying,” he adds, voice barely above a whisper, “unless you ask me to. Don’t burn yourself out trying to prove you’re worth something you

You ask, shakily, “So… what now?”

He grins a little just enough to lighten the air.

“Well,” he says, pulling something out of his hoodie pocket. It’s a folded flyer. Hand-drawn. Probably by Geto. “I’m hosting a party on Saturday. It’s gonna be outside by the bond fire.”

You give him a tired look. “I’m not really in a party mood.”

“I figured you’d say that,” he says. Then his voice softens. “But I was hoping you’d come anyway.”

You blink. “Why?”

“Because I want you there,” he says.

His eyes find yours.

“I want you to come as my date.”

It’s quiet after that. Your heart beats so loud it’s all you can hear.

Gojo runs a hand through his hair, suddenly a little nervous. “You don’t have to answer right now. I just… thought it would be a good idea. I mean most of them are bringing a plus one.”

You nod slowly.

Then, quietly:

“Okay.”

He stills. “Okay?”

“I’ll come,” you say, lips curving up. “As your date.”

He exhales like he’s been holding his breath all week. Then his grin returns, bright, wide, impossibly him.

“You’re gonna look so good, I’m not gonna survive.”

You roll your eyes, but your cheeks burn. He reaches the door, hand on the knob, then pauses.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks, one last time. You meet his gaze, softer now.

“I think I will be.”

And with that, he leaves. But his smile lingers.

-

You don’t even knock. You just step into the party the way you always do, quiet, unnoticed, somewhere between unsure and familiar. But this time, you’re not alone.

This time, you’re his date.

The house is buzzing the second you arrive, not chaotic like usual, but warm. Music hums through the speakers in the backyard, where strings of lights glow between trees and paper lanterns. There’s no beer pong, no packed kitchen, no loud bass shaking the walls.

It feels more like a gathering than a party. Intimate.

Intentional.

You spot Geto and Shoko by the fire pit, Yuta curled up in a hoodie next to Panda, who is definitely roasting marshmallows too aggressively.

And then you see him.

Gojo, standing near the back steps, laughing with Nanami and Utahime. White shirt hugging his frame, blue eyes scanning the yard like he’s looking for-

He spots you.

And just like that, his smile softens. Warms. Becomes something only you get to see.

“Hey,” he says when he reaches you, like he didn’t text you three times earlier asking if you were still coming. Like he hasn’t clearly been waiting.

You look up at him, nervous, unsure, hopeful. “Hey.”

His eyes flick over you quickly, like he’s trying not to stare. You dressed simple, but he still looks at you like you’re the only thing glowing brighter than the lights overhead.

“You look…” He falters for a second, grinning. “Really pretty.”

You smile, shy. “Thanks.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Wanna hang by the fire? Or you want the tour first? There’s a s’mores station with your name on it. I may have hoarded the good chocolate.”

You laugh genuinely, easily. “Fire sounds good.”

The party flows around you, but it feels like you’re in your own bubble.

You sit beside him by the fire, knees just barely brushing. He doesn’t touch you, doesn’t pull anything bold but every now and then, he leans in close to say something. Something just for you.

And you don’t pull away.

You don’t even think to.

Because when Gojo laughs and leans into your shoulder, it feels like something you’ve already known for a long time.

Like it was always supposed to be this way.

“I missed this,” he says quietly, later in the night. “Missed you.”

You glance at him, eyes soft in the flickering firelight, his hands cupped around a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

“I didn’t go anywhere,” you whisper.

He meets your gaze.

“Felt like you did,” he says. “For a while.”

You look down. “I was just scared.”

“I know,” he says, and there’s no judgment in his voice. “Me too.”

You breathe in slowly. The fire crackles beside you.

Then:

“But I’m here now.”

He nods. “Yeah. You are.”

It doesn’t feel like a confession. It doesn’t feel like fireworks or declarations or “I’ve always loved you.”

It just feels right.

And maybe that’s better. People notice.

Of course they do.

Geto nudges Gojo when you’re off grabbing a drink. “You’re basically one slow dance away from being an actual couple.”

Gojo rolls his eyes. “Shut up.”

“You’re smiling like a dumbass,” Shoko adds, sipping her drink. “It’s weirdly endearing.”

Even Nanami, who barely raises an eyebrow at anything, mutters, “Took you long enough.”

Gojo doesn’t deny it.

He just glances toward the back deck, where you’re chatting with Yuuji, your laugh quiet but real.

And he smiles again.

-

Later, when most of the yard has emptied and only the glow of the fire remains, you find yourselves side by side on the porch steps. Close, but not touching.

The silence is comfortable.

Not like before.

He nudges your knee with his.

“You tired?”

You shake your head. “No. Just… happy.”

He looks at you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

There’s a long pause, the kind that holds too much.

And then, softly:

“Can I ask you something?”

You nod.

Gojo’s eyes search yours like he’s still scared you might disappear.

“Is this… okay?” he asks. “Us. Like this. Closer.”

You exhale. The warmth in your chest feels like it could light the whole backyard.

“Yeah,” you say, voice quiet. “It’s more than okay.”

And that’s it.

No kiss. No need to say more.

You just lean your head on his shoulder.

And Gojo who’s always loud, always dramatic goes still and soft beside you. Like the moment matters too much to risk breaking.

You stay like that until the fire burns out.

-

It starts with Sukuna.

Pierced tongue. Permanent smirk. Always skipping class.

He joins the same philosophy lecture you and Gojo have been half-ignoring all semester. But while Gojo mostly doodles on your notes and sends you stupid memes during class, Sukuna- Sukuna talks to you.

A lot.

He sits next to you one day when Gojo’s late. Offers gum. Comments on your handwriting. Makes you laugh, once. Gojo sees it when he walks in.

Sees you turn toward Sukuna instead of him. Sees Sukuna lean into your space, too close, too casual.

He doesn’t say anything that day.

But it sticks.

It builds from there.

You run into Sukuna at the library. Then again near the rec center. Then again when you’re with Maki grabbing food.

“Popular,” Gojo teases lightly. “He following you or something?”

You laugh. “I think he just likes talking.”

But the thing is, you don’t realize Gojo isn’t teasing. He’s dead serious.

He’s watching. Always. Quietly.

Watching Sukuna make you laugh in ways he used to. Watching him lean against walls and flash you that cocky little grin. Watching you not pull away.

And he hates it.

Worse, he hates how much it bothers him.

The realization doesn’t hit Gojo all at once.

It’s slow.

A sick warmth in his stomach when Sukuna shows up at the same party you and Gojo are at. Sukuna always attends the frat parties, why does this one feel so different? Gojo invited you. Sukuna just… appears.

He watches the way you talk with him near the drinks table. He doesn’t approach. Doesn’t pull you away. But he watches. Tight lipped. Drinking too fast.

Shoko eventually corners him. “You’re spiraling.”

“I’m fine,” he says.

“You’re glaring at that guy like he owes you money.”

Gojo sips his drink. “He’s weird.”

“You’re jealous.”

“I am not-“ he starts, then stops.

Shoko just gives him a look. And that’s when it hits him.

Oh.

-

That night, Gojo doesn’t text you.

The next day, he cancels plans. “Frat stuff.”

You shrug it off. You’re used to him being busy.

But you don’t miss the shift. The distance. And it hurts more than you want to admit.

Then comes the snap.

You text him to help you review for a quiz. He agrees, reluctantly. You meet in your dorm, like old times.

But he’s off the second he walks in. No teasing. No dumb jokes. No light shoulder bumps.

Just quiet tension.

You tilt your head. “You okay?”

He flips through your notes. “You and Sukuna are getting close.”

You freeze. “What?”

“I mean, he’s everywhere lately. Study buddies now, too?”

You blink, slow. “Why are you bringing this up?”

“I just didn’t realize you had a type.”

There’s a bite to it. You flinch.

“Gojo-“

“Satoru.”

You pause.

“Why are you acting like this?” you ask, softer.

He exhales hard. “Because I thought-“

He breaks off. Runs a hand through his hair. He needs to know. Needs to ask. Needs to tear the damn bandaid off before it gets worse.

“I thought it was me. I thought I was the one you looked at like that.”

The silence after is a vacuum.

“You are,” you say, quietly.

Gojo looks up. Stunned.

“I only laughed at Sukuna because he asked if you were my boyfriend and I panicked,” you admit. “I said we were just friends and he smirked like he knew.”

You look down.

“And I hated that he might’ve been right.”

Gojo is across the room before you finish breathing. You don’t miss the fact at how his pupils are more dilated than usual.

The kiss is slow and loaded.

No crash. No firestorm. Just weight.

Like the moment’s been waiting for months, and now it’s finally time.

His hands cradle your face.

“You’re mine,” he says. It’s not a question.

You nod. “Yeah.”

He kisses you again. This time deeper. Hungrier.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he whispers against your lips.

“Then take it,” you whisper back.

The room burns.

Your shirt comes off first, his hoodie next.

He kisses down your throat, slow and reverent. Like he’s discovering something forbidden.

“You’re so soft,” he murmurs. “So fucking pretty.”

You gasp as his hand slips under your waistband. He’s careful. Focused. Watching you fall apart like it’s something he needs.

He hesitates, not wanting to force you. Not wanting to do anything out of your comfort zone. He loves you.

You notice his hesitation and tugged him closer. “Want you. Please.”

He sucks in a breath. “Say it again.”

“I want you, Satoru.”

He rolls his head back and groans like he’s losing his mind.

He pulls down the comfortable pajama shorts you’re wearing. Whistling upon seeing your lace panties. “You always wearing these?” he teases.

You put your hand up to his bare chest and push him away, jokingly. Your cheeks burned in embarrassment. “No, they so happened to be the first pair that I grabbed.”

He chuckles, the deep chuckle that makes your throat go dry, the bottom of your stomach twist with desire. “That’s hot, sweetheart. They’re my favourite color.”

He leans in to bite your ear, making you gasp. Satoru is quick, he knows what he wants. He slowly trailed his hand down towards your clothed pussy, rubbing it gently.

“Fuck- baby, it’s leaking,” he says with a smirk.

You can’t see his face but you already know what smug expression he’s making. That asshole.

“Satoru,” you warn, no malice or disrespect behind it, just neediness.

“Heard ya, princess.”

He slips his hand in your waist band, slowly circling his thumb over your clit, making you jolt. You lean your body against his, muffling your soft moans against his skin.

Then you feel the stretch. His long fingers entering you, slow and deliberate. Your slick coating it.

“All this just from me talking?” he grins. His lips trailing kisses down jaw all the way to your neck. His tongue licking your sweet spot.

“Just-“ you stutter, “just put it in, you tease.”

“Say please.” His hands grip your hips, then your waist, then your face. He walks you backwards toward your bed, lips never leaving yours.

You gasp when the backs of your knees hit the mattress. He pulls back, just a breath, eyes dark.

“Tell me to stop,” he pants. “If you want me to.”

You shake your head, already breathless. “Don’t.”

In a flash you were on your back with Gojo placed in between your legs, your panties tossed to the ground, the tip of his cock teasing your entrance.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs against your chest. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

You arch beneath him, gasping as he kisses your ribs, your stomach, your hips.

“I dreamed of this,” he confesses, voice shaking. “More than once.”

You’re trembling when he finally slips inside—slow, deep, overwhelming.

You moan into his neck, gripping his shoulders. You cling to him, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from the painful stretch and how good it feels, how real.

“Don’t stop,” you whisper. “Please, don’t stop.”

“You okay?” he whispers, forehead pressed to yours.

“Yes,” you breathe. “So much.”

He thrusts slow, like he’s savoring every inch of you.

“You feel like home,” he pants. “Like you were made for me.”

Your legs tighten around him. His hand laces with yours. It’s everything you never said, poured into movement.

You come first, body shaking, eyes glassy. He follows moments after, burying his face in your shoulder as he falls apart. Groaning in your ear.

-

After, you lie tangled in sheets, his fingers tracing circles on your bare back.

“I hate that it took Sukuna to get me to say something,” he mumbles.

You smile into his chest. “He was kind of helpful, actually.”

He groans. “Don’t ever say that again.”

You giggle. Then softer, “You’re really mine now?”

His hand curls into your hair.

“I’ve always been yours,” he says. “Even when I didn’t know it.”

-

Mornings with him are different now.

He’s still chaotic, still wakes up with bedhead and somehow makes pouring cereal sound dramatic but now he’s yours. And he acts like it.

You wake up to his hand on your waist and his breath in your hair. His leg always ends up tangled with yours. He grumbles if you try to get out of bed too early.

“Just five more minutes,” he mumbles against your shoulder.

“You said that fifteen minutes ago.”

“I’m serious this time.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. Because underneath the dramatic sighs and sleepy whining, Gojo’s hand never lets go of yours.

-

Breakfast becomes a thing.

Not fancy, usually cereal, toast, maybe eggs if he’s feeling ambitious. But he makes sure you eat before class.

“You’re not leaving here without food,” he says, sliding a banana into your bag. “Girlfriend privileges. I worry about you now.”

You snort. “You didn’t worry about me before?”

“I did! Silently.”

You raise a brow.

“Okay, loudly, but in my own way,” he amends, grinning. “Which mostly involved buying you Red Bulls and pretending it wasn’t concern.”

Walking to class together has always been in your routine.

He meets you outside your dorm even if it means being late himself. He carries your bag half the time, just because. He holds your hand like he needs to.

People stare now, but it’s not the usual Gojo-stare. It’s softer. Curious.

You overhear one girl whisper, “They’re really together?”

Another replies, “I thought she was just his best friend…”

And Gojo just smirks, squeezes your hand tighter, and loudly kisses your temple like the smug bastard he is.

His place becomes your second home.

You leave a toothbrush there. Then a hairbrush. Then half your sleep clothes.

“Is this a drawer?” you ask one day, opening a newly cleared-out space in Gojo’s dresser.

“It’s your drawer,” he says, smug. “Started making it after the first night you stayed over.”

“You’re insane. That was a long time ago.”

“I’m prepared.”

You roll your eyes, but later, you put your favorite hoodie in there. You kind of like that he planned ahead.

Studying together becomes dangerous.

He’s distracting.

He keeps poking your thigh under the table.

Keeps whispering stupid jokes.

Keeps staring at you with that annoying grin.

Keeps leaning over your shoulder, pretending to read, but really just wanting to be close.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you mutter.

“I’m studying.”

“You’re literally not.”

“I’m studying you.”

You shove his notebook at him.

He grins. “Was that foreplay?”

“Satoru.”

He memorized your schedule.

Shows up between classes with coffee. Walks you to the library. Waits outside your labs.

Sometimes, you don’t even realize he’s there until he slides next to you on a bench and offers half a cookie.

“Been waiting long?” you ask.

“Only forever,” he says, but he’s smiling.

And you know he’d wait again.

Some nights you stay in.

You curl up in his bed with Netflix on and snacks scattered across the blanket. His hand is always around your waist, even when he’s half-asleep.

He lets you steal his clothes. His shampoo. His chargers.

He lets you fall asleep on his chest and only shifts to kiss your forehead.

“Love you,” he whispers one night. It slips out between breaths, not even part of the conversation.

You freeze.

He doesn’t.

Just tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and repeats it.

“Love you. Not scared about it anymore.”

You kiss him, slow, soft, deep.

“I love you too.”

-

You don’t even tell the others.

But they know. All of them are varying levels of unsurprised.

The second you and Satoru walk in together, not just side by side, but together, like gravity pulled you that way it’s over. They can see it all.

Gojo doesn’t let go of you once.

His hand stays low on your back. Yours brushes his fingers every few steps. He’s smiling, but not in his usual chaotic way.

He’s softer tonight. Quieter. Like he’s not looking to be the loudest person in the room for once. Like his attention is already full.

You’d gone over together many times, obviously. You got ready in his room, shoved your lip gloss in his back pocket. He’d watched you get dressed from the bed, doing nothing to hide the way his eyes traveled slowly, unashamed.

“You always this pretty, or are you trying to kill me tonight?”

You threw a pillow at his head. He caught it and kissed it like an idiot.

Now, at the party, the others see it instantly.

It’s not just the handholding. It’s the way he leans into you when you laugh. The way you fix the collar of his hoodie without thinking. The way he watches you walk away, eyes glued to your back like you’re the only thing he’s ever followed in his life.

-

“God,” Maki groans as she watches you two across the living room. “It’s worse now.”

“They were already like this,” Shoko mutters, sipping something neon.

“No, but now it’s legally sanctioned.” Nobara gestures as Gojo tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. “There’s nothing stopping him. He’s unstoppable.”

“They’ve always been like this. Now they just kiss in front of us.”

Maki is the first to say anything.

She corners you near the kitchen, squints like she’s solving a puzzle.

“You’re glowing,” she accuses.

You try (badly) to play it off. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Bullshit.” She leans in. “You look freshly ruined and spiritually fulfilled. That’s Gojo glow.”

You nearly choke on your drink.

Before you can deny it, Shoko walks past. “Finally.”

You gasp. “You all knew?!”

Yuta passing through, uninterested mutters, “Yeah. We’ve been over it since last semester.”

Even Panda chimes in from the couch. “I lost ten bucks on how long it would take.”

Meanwhile, Gojo’s got his own interrogation squad.

Suguru smirks from across the pong table. “You seem settled.”

Gojo takes a casual sip of his drink. “I’m good.”

“Is that her hoodie?”

Gojo smirks. “Nope. Mine. But she stole it first.”

Suguru raises a brow. “So it’s official?”

Gojo nods, that stupidly satisfied look spreading on his face.

“You tell her you love her yet?”

Gojo blinks.

“Because you do,” Suguru adds casually. “You’ve been in love with her since that stupid Halloween party freshmen year.”

“Okay, relax,” Gojo mutters, cheeks flushing.

-

Gojo slips behind you while you’re talking with Panda, slides an arm around your waist and leans in like it’s instinct.

“You okay?” he murmurs against your ear.

You nod. “They’re all bullying me.”

He kisses your temple, shameless. “Good. You deserve it.”

You try to nudge him but you’re smiling.

And so is he.

There’s a quiet in his body tonight, not bored, not tired, but anchored. Like you settled something deep in him. Like he’s finally breathing the way he always wanted to.

You drift together through the party.

He holds your hand under the beer pong table.

You steal his fries.

He kisses your cheek without thinking.

You play with his rings when you’re bored.

Sukuna shows up around ten, smirking as always. He catches sight of the way Gojo’s arm is curled protectively around your hips, and just lifts a brow.

“Guess I missed my shot,” he says dryly.

Gojo grins, all teeth. “You never had one.”

You smack his chest, but Sukuna just laughs.

“Wasn’t trying to steal her, anyway. Just wanted to piss you off.”

“You did,” Gojo says, grinning harder. “And it worked.”

Sukuna laughs.

The night drips by in warm gold.

Gojo takes dumb pictures of you on his phone. You steal his hoodie halfway through the night. He sings part of a song into your neck even though he’s off-key and way too loud.

You end up on the couch together, you in his lap, his arms snug around you.

People pass and grin. Some whisper. Someone asks Gojo, jokingly, “Damn, did you finally lock her down?”

He laughs. Looks down at you. “Nope. She locked me down.”

You blink at him, and he kisses you. Again.

You lose count of how many times he kisses you that night.

Later, you find yourselves tucked on a porch bench while the music thumps inside.

The cold nips at your skin but Gojo wraps his hoodie tighter around you, tugs you between his legs.

“You good?” he asks again, gently.

You look up at him.

His hair’s a mess. His lips are a little pink. His eyes are soft in a way they never used to be like he finally let the walls down.

“I’m good,” you say honestly.

He leans his forehead to yours. “This doesn’t feel real.”

“It is.”

He cups your cheek. “We really did it, huh?”

You nod, teasing. “I mean, you could still ruin it.”

“Oh, definitely,” he laughs. “But now you’re stuck with me.”

You sigh dramatically. “Such a demanding boyfriend.”

You lean in and kiss him, just soft, just long enough to feel it in your chest.

He hums against your lips.

When you pull back, he whispers, “Let’s leave soon.”

You tilt your head. “Why?”

His hands slip under the hem of your shirt, warm on your skin. “Because I want you all to myself. Please, can you stay the night?”

[ilium-ilia]

In Limbo

simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader | mafia!au | masterlist

Chapter Twenty-Nine: rooftops

For once, the basement is quiet. 

Kyle had shut off the music the moment he saw Simon wander into the makeshift gym—or, more accurately, he shut it off when he saw the look on his face. Severe. Lips pressed tight together and fingers curling with the insatiable thirst for popping cartilage. 

The two men sit across from one another with spines curled forward and gazes cast towards the floor. Simon’s boots are beginning to stick to the old cement. The whole place could use a good scrub. Yet as his fingers interlace and his elbows rest on his knees, the only thing he can get himself to care about is you and the conversation taking place several stories above his head. 

In his heart, he knows John would never do anything to harm you, but this mess is unprecedented. Mixed up with Makarov, secrets coming to life, a broken nose and a bruised stomach. Simon has always been John’s first choice when it comes to dealing with situations such as these, but now he’s thrown aside. A naughty dog, locked in his kennel. 

“Shit,” Kyle murmurs. He wipes at the sweat leftover on his brow as he adjusts himself on the seat to the lifting equipment. Simon’s just finished telling the story that took place at the restaurant—your broken nose, Aelin’s injury and pregnancy—and each word he speaks only seems to make the man across from him grow more rigid. “How’d Chip even get mixed up in that anyway?” 

There it is. The big question. 

“Her father. And a brutal set of circumstances,” Simon replies bitterly. “He used to work for Makarov.” 

Kyle’s brows rise. “No shit?”

“He got killed in some sort of drug deal gone wrong. Lost Makarov a lot of money. They killed her mum when she refused to pay off the debt, then passed it off onto Chip.” Acrimony sears the inside of Simon’s throat with each word he speaks. He’s always having to think about this story. The retelling of your past and all the brutal things that accompany it. “They’ve been houndin’ her ever since.” 

People always say that airing out dirty laundry lessens the stench, but for Simon it’s still noisome in the air around his nostrils. He thinks of all the things he’s holding back for your sake. How young you were when everything happened. The way Marco assaulted you in Tsar Trading. How those very pictures still taint his car. 

“This other guy. Marco. What’s his deal?” Kyle questions, attempting to keep the conversation rolling. 

It takes all the strength in the world for Simon to hold back his scoff. “He’s Makarov’s shark. Enforces debt payments. He was in charge of my brother’s debt ‘n the cunt nearly killed ‘im. Now he’s doin’ the same for Chip.” 

Kyle mulls the information over for a moment before nodding. “What’s his last name?” 

“Fuck if I know,” Simon says with a shrug. “Why?” 

“Intel’s half the battle.” 

From there, the conversation devolves into acrid stories and vented frustrations. Each moment Simon spends stuck down in that basement, he feels more of himself slip away into the unrelenting desire for revenge. It’s so close he can almost taste it. This zenith of vengeance. The blood that will soon be spilt, because he knows something like this won’t be swept beneath the rug—not now that John Price knows about it. 

Within two hours of being banished to the basement, Simon is stunned to see John walking down the steps to fetch him. His face is irritatingly plain and utterly devoid of any emotion. It makes his skin crawl. He’s a predator backed into a corner, unable to sniff out the intentions of the man before him as he crosses his arms in the doorway and nods. 

“Riley,” John beckons. 

Kyle wordlessly watches Simon push himself to his feet, attention now snatched away by his boss. Palpable tension arises in the space between his shoulder blades as he walks to John, jaw growing tight with the impending verbal lashing he knows is overdue. 

“I’ll do some research on that little shark of Makarov,” Kyle calls out in a promise, prompting Simon to look over his shoulder. “Mummy dearest owes me a couple of favors.” 

Chagrin seeps out of every pore in John’s body, and the stench of it washes over Simon in a suffocating veil as the two men trot up the stairs. He expects to be taken to John’s office, but is surprised when the man continues to climb until they’ve reached the access to the roof. Shaded sunlight peeks through a thin layer of wispy clouds, washing out the stone roof. Things look different up here during the daytime—Simon’s only ever come here after a long shift or when he needs to think. The pile of ash from his cigarettes still marrs the ledge. 

John walks out before him, toeing the edge of the building, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans as he stares at the city. Traffic has already clogged up the streets, thickening the already imperviable layer of grime that hangs in the air, yet he takes a deep breath all the same. 

“Brought me ‘ere to toss me off the ledge?” Simon asks in bleak humor. 

John’s chuckle is tight and sour in his throat. “Don’t give me any ideas, Simon.” 

“Yeah. Reckon I shouldn’t.” Simon lazily retrieves his pack of cigarettes from the back pocket of his trousers before slapping the cartridge against the palm of his hand. He braves a few steps forward once he’s got the filter between his lips. “Smoke?” 

Looking over his shoulder, John catches sight of the pack, pupils dilating and fingers twitching in his pockets. He only huffs and shakes his head. “I quit when Aelin got pregnant.” 

He doesn’t say anything in response. Only grabs his lighter and begins to puff away before he stands next to John. The tension between the two of them grows so tight he might just jump down to the streets himself. 

“Chip’s at the hospital with Aelin,” John begins, voice maintaining an impressive amicability. “I’ll pick her up for you after we’re done here. They say Aelin should be good to come home tonight.” 

Simon gnaws at his cigarette filter. “Chip’s scared to death Aelin’s gonna hate ‘er for this.” 

“No, no, she could never hate her. Not for that.” Head falling, eyes trained on the desolate pavement below, John huffs. “She told me everything. As much as she could choke out, anyway.” 

“You shouldn’t ask her ‘bout the rest,” Simon warns. 

“I fucking know that, Simon,” John snaps. He pauses, chest expanding with a deep breath as he shakes his head. “I’m very well aware of what bad men do to girls who are too young to protect themselves.” Turning, he’s looking at Simon now with a tight jaw. “Three hundred thousand. Why the fuck didn’t you come to me?” 

That’s the question, isn’t it? How could someone like you ever convince a man like Simon Riley to go against his code? To keep his lips sealed for a simple promise over the obligations of his work? He thinks about the look in your eyes that day when you made him promise not to tell anyone—John and Aelin especially. He recalls how he would’ve torn the earth apart if you so much as asked him to. 

“I promised her I wouldn’t,” Simon responds; simple, and honest. 

“Piss poor fucking reason,” John snaps. “You think I couldn’t have kept that a secret myself? At least I would’ve fucking known. At least we could’ve worked together to solve this. Now what? Aelin’s in the hospital and Chip’s got a broken nose and that’s not even the half of it!” 

“She trusted me. Not you, not Aelin, but me. I promised her, and I was gonna keep that promise.” He’s heated. Blood screams through his veins as he tries to cool off, but it’s hard when you’re the focus of the conversation. “She had all the time in the world to tell you, but she didn’t. Even if I had told you ‘n she never found out, I never could have forgiven myself if I ever betrayed her trust like that. I love her too much for that.” 

The noise of the city swallows the conversation as the two men stare each other down—each angry in their own right, struggling in a seemingly fruitless endeavor to protect the women they adore. John crosses his arms, suddenly on guard, but he’s the first to break eye contact. Staring at his feet, he nods as he allows the ghost of a smile to flicker across his lips. 

“She was scared, John,” Simon continues, softer now. “You dunno how long it took to get her comfortable enough to share any of that with me. Your bludgeoning would’ve made it worse.” 

John’s head cocks to the side as he twists his torso so that it’s faced out toward the city again. Arms still crossed, he rocks back on his heels. “I guess love does make people stupid.” 

Well, it’s no praise, but it’s better than getting his head chewed off. Simon flicks a drizzle of ash onto the brick at his feet before he stares at the sputtering embers burning at the tip of his cigarette. 

“You know what this means, don’t you?” John asks. 

The question makes Simon’s knuckles ache. “Yeah.”

“Does she?” 

Simon shakes his head. “No.” 

Humming, John turns on his heels, fingers reaching out to snatch Simon’s cigarette out from between his fingers. He takes a long, slow drag before he flicks it to the side, drawing out his exhale for as long as he can. 

“I’m headed back to the hospital. I’ll pick Chip up and drop her off at your place. Don’t worry about the money. I’ll get it all sorted.”

“John-” Simon attempts to speak. 

“You’re gonna have to tell her. Tonight, Simon,” he says sternly. “If I had more time, I could’ve found someone else, but after everything that happened? Makarov’s only patient for as long as it serves him.” 

Simon shakes his head, arms awkwardly hanging by his side as his gaze follows John as he begins to walk back inside. “I wouldn’t let anyone else do this for her.” 

“Yeah, and she’s worse off for it,” John calls over his shoulder. “Go home. I’ll call you with details later.” 

The door squeals as it shuts behind John, leaving Simon alone atop the roof. His eyes wander to his smoldering cigarette before the breeze catches up to him. Spring looms in budding trees and dreary skies, but the slight chill cuts him straight to his bone. 

A beckoning song screams from the ledge. Simon bites back the urge to toss himself overboard. 

Once safely on solid ground, Simon shoves himself into his car and races back to the house. It’s a difficult battle keeping his eyes open and on the road as fatigue gnaws behind his eyelids. He spent the entire night watching over you, unable to sleep. He kept your head cradled in his lap, and would gently wipe at the small streams of blood that would come and go in the night from your fractured nose. Fussing over you. Making sure you wouldn’t fracture in your sleep. 

The weight of fatigue is nearly unbearable by the time he pulls into the garage. Engine killed, knuckles still wrapped around the steering wheel—he finds his eyes drifting to the glove compartment to his left. There is something lurking in there more foul than anything else he has ever laid his eyes on. It is the child of evil. A product of sadism and leaky maw, wet with a wanton desire for trembling flesh. 

Simon flips the compartment open where Marco’s sick love letter and odious gifts spill into the palm of his hand. Though he crumples them as he marches into the house, the images can’t escape his view—your wet face, Marco’s hand on your cheek, the way your mouth opens at his beckoning. They stare up at him as he tosses them onto the counter and digs through his pocket for his lighter. The flint crackles and sparks as he thumbs over the wheel, then sets fire to each photo one by one. 

He lets them burn until they singe the tips of his fingers, then tosses the charred remains into the bin once they’ve cooled enough. Then, he gathers the bag until it’s tossed outside; far away and long forgotten. A blight finally purged from your life, even if only for a little while. 

Your entrance back home sounds just as Simon begins to nod off on the couch. His body jerks, twitching back into consciousness just in time for the door to shut behind you and you to timidly wander into the living room. The swelling in your cheeks has only gotten worse, and your eyes seem to be stuck in a squinting position, but you smile when you see him nonetheless. 

Standing, Simon embraces you. For a long while, neither of you say anything. There is only the sound of his heart thudding through his chest and the sniffling of your too-swollen nostrils. It’s as if the stars have aligned again. You, here in his arms, in his home, right where you belong. All the wear and tear of the last day seems to dissipate now that he’s got you like this—his girl right at home. 

“I told Aelin everything,” you offer up once your feet begin to tingle. 

“Yeah?” This is good. You’re talking, not shutting down. “How’d that go?” 

“Better than I ever thought it would,” you admit. “I always thought she would be angry but… she wasn’t. Not at me, anyway. Her dad, Marco, Makarov, everything she just- she just understood. Honestly, it felt really nice to get it out, even when I thought she was going to yell at me. John knows now, too. I don’t know, it feels like now I might be able to… to fix this instead of continuing to run from it.” 

Simon nods, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s too busy tracing your spine, feeling where your skin dips and curves, memorizing how your body morphs into his. You shift, and it yanks him out of his head and into the present. 

“Did… John wasn’t too mad at you, was he?” you ask. 

“He was upset, but s’all right, sweetheart,” he assures. He leans back, torso tearing away from yours, in order to look at you. His fingers prompt your chin to tilt up away from the floor and it takes everything within him not to fall into you. To not crash his lips into yours and pretend as if the future isn’t fast approaching. “Let’s sit down, baby.” 

Blindly, you follow him until you’ve both reached the couch, enervated bodies sinking into the cushions as if you’ll drown in them and never resurface. He can’t take his eyes off you. Not the curve of your lips or the way your eyes glisten in the adust lighting. Exhausted hands rest on your knees as you begin to worry, brows pinching together as you attempt to read the storm brewing behind his eyes. 

“Price is gonna gather the money to pay off the rest of your debt,” Simon finally shares once he straightens out the jittering neurons in his brain. 

Your eyes widen as you place your hands over his. “Really?”

He nods. “He’ll get everythin’ set up with Makarov. Sooner rather than later, probably.” 

Everything shifts beneath your body, causing you to temporarily become light headed. This notion of freedom has grown so close and yet you’ve only just now noticed how it lies at your feet waiting to be retrieved. Yet, just as you go to reach for it, you notice the line. Thin, pearlescent string. Fishing wire. A hidden hook ready to sink into flesh and drag you along with it. 

“But that’s not everything, is it?” you carefully push. “You said before that there would be more, right?” A gauche laugh escapes you. “Eating a cockroach…” 

“I’m gonna have to kill someone.” 

The bluntness in which Simon speaks with hits your gut, sending your diaphragm sputtering as your smile begins to wane. He sees how several sentences begin and end on the tip of your tongue, smothered behind your hesitation. 

“It’s how all of Makarov’s debts are paid. Money is never enough. He demands blood with it, too,” Simon continues. 

You wet your lips before shaking your head. “I don’t understand—who are you going to have to kill? Simon, I don’t-” 

Shushing you, he pulls your hands into his own where he begins to trace your knuckles with the pad of your thumb. “Makarov sets everythin’ up so that two people who are in debt fight against each other. Sometimes he’ll let people volunteer for someone else, which is what I did with Tommy. It’s what I’m doin’ for you. He doesn’t care either way, the cunt just wants a good show. Besides, it grants you immunity. Marco would never do anythin’ to you ever again at risk of death.” 

All moisture leaves your mouth, rendering your tongue sticky and dry. You nearly choke when you speak. “But Simon, I mean… killing someone? What if—like—maybe they’re like me. You’d still have to kill them?”

“Not necessarily," he says with a flippant shrug. “They could always kill me. Either way, your debt is paid, and then theirs would be, too.” 

“Don’t joke like that,” you sternly reprimand. 

“Sorry, baby.” 

“I just- I don’t understand. So many people have already died or gotten hurt because of me, and now you’re… you’re telling me that there’s going to be one more?” 

His lips go taut. Small, straight line. His mandible flexes, muscle dancing beneath his skin, widening his jaw for a short moment before he eventually nods. “I’m sorry, baby.” 

Your knees jerk. He notes the way your body curls forward, weight displacing, ready to stand, but he pulls you back towards him, refusing to let you run away. The expansion of your chest comes quick—fluttering rabbit feet thumping against the ground, attempting to flee. 

“No, I can’t let that happen. I’d- I’d rather be in debt for the rest of my life,” you stutter. 

“Chip-” 

“I can’t let you kill an innocent person, Simon!” 

Silence envelops the two of you like rotten flesh over a festering wound. It’s thick. Suffocating. Noisome and sickening. Simon scrambles for anything he can to keep himself afloat—to keep you from crumbling in his arms. Eventually, his head falls. 

“Maybe… Sometimes, we can pick our opponent,” Simon murmurs. “I could try to scope out someone who deserves it.” 

“Deserves it?” you choke. 

“I’d gladly put a nonce or child beater into the ground, sweetheart, and I wouldn’t feel bad ‘bout it either,” Simon says, sure of himself. Then, he pauses, onyx eyes finally wandering back up to you. “It’s gonna be hard no matter what, but I’ll try to make this as easy as I can for you.” 

“I don't- I don’t know. I don’t know what to think of this.” 

You’re spiraling. Twisting and falling through the floor as the pressure finally forces you to cave. Simon can see it in your eyes. That panic. Tenderly, he reaches for you, hand cupping the back of your head before gently pulling you into his chest, making sure to watch the sore bump on your nose. 

“I know baby, I’m sorry,” he coos. “We don’t have to talk ‘bout it now. You’ve had a rough day.” 

“I can’t let you do this,” you murmur, voice drowning against the side of his neck. 

“I know, baby.” 

Neither of you speak. You’re not even sure what you should say at the prospect of one more person dying in order for you to gain your freedom. It’s a kick in the teeth. It’s the knife that would unravel all the hard work you’ve put into ensuring no one else ever got hurt because of you again. 

Simon can’t imagine the emotional turmoil. The sickening truth of your reality finally splaying out before you. Still, he holds you tight and soothes you with gentle caresses because, deep down, he knows you don’t have a choice in the matter. 

His mind was made up a long time ago.

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[sweetfwr]

(TEASER!) ROSES & RETRIBUTION ˒˒ sjy

when you are accepted into solstice academy on a scholarship, you seek revenge on the illustrious park family, the very people that took away the life of your best friend. park sunghoon, an attendee of solstice, is sloppy, unaware of his surroundings, and completely out of touch- the perfect target for a clean assassination. the only problem? his irritatingly loyal best friend jake, who happens to be student council president, the son of one of the 7 families pulling strings in the academy, and the man you would later refer to as your greatest love.

pairing) jake sim x f!reader

tags) revenge story, old money themes, enemies to lovers, academy au, angst, love triangle

wc) SOON

now playing) slow down - chase atlantic

fast cars, daddy's rolex, private jets, chauffeurs, and all the damn power they could ever want. the rich kids of solstice really do have it all, emphasis on the fast cars.

it’s after midnight when the crowd of invite-only elites from solstice gather around the edge of the old mountain road, the air thick with cigarette smoke, expensive perfume, and the rumbling of engines ready to burn. students laughed together, leaning on super cars and sipping on champagne flutes like nothing in the world mattered– like they were untouchable. maybe they were.

across the lot, jake is sliding into his matte black lotus, the engine purring like a beast ready to pounce. his eyes flicked up once, right at the jacket covering your skimpy outfit, before his helmet went on. you almost scoff. you haven’t spoken to him since that night in his room, and you don’t intend to.

he had grabbed your wirst a little too tightly, warning you of what it meant to go against the park family. begging, pleading with you to stop with a strain in his voice, as if he knew what you could and couldn’t handle.

a sleek silver porsche rolls up next to jake’s car, undoubtedly belonging to sunoo. he steps out for a brief moment, tossing his keys to an underclassman with a smirk as his eyes scan the crowd for something, or someone.

once those hazel eyes land on you, or more specifically, what you’re wearing, you gulp inwardly.

“you wore it,” sunoo smiles lazily, approaching you confidently, but not without the envious stares of his brainless fans. “my jacket.”

“it’s cold,” you say dryly, but that does nothing to quell the fire you’ve stoked. his ego is sky high, and you can practically taste it in the air.

“is this what the rich do when they’re bored?”

“what, you think we play golf?” he snorts, helmet secured at his side. “stay for a while, doll. i’ll make it worth your time.”

it’s then that he saunters towards his car, and it hits you– he would be racing tonight. against jake. you can practically feel his eyes on you from the black lotus across the venue.

why wouldn’t they be? you were standing on his turf wearing another boy’s jacket like he hadn’t kissed you silly a few nights ago, hot and heavy and in the privacy of his student council dorm. it was driving him crazy, and it was no secret to anyone how much the thought of jake sim lying awake at night, incapable of thinking about anything but you, pleased you.

your lips twitch– just a little.

the crowd stirs when the cars roll up to the starting line, engines revving and headlights blazing through all the heavy smoke. music thumps in your ears, and your heartbeat grows faster with every cheer and rev of an engine. you’re positively thrilled, and you can’t say you don’t love it.

and then you hear it. hushed and low, but unmistakable. “they’re racing for her, aren’t they?”

you know better than to deny it.

lee heeseung steps forward and in between the two cars, a cigarette in one hand and a checkered flag in another. with a raise of his hand, sunoo settles into the driver’s seat like a prince on a throne, and jake adjusts his leather gloves from inside the lotus, shoulders tense. his gaze flicks to you once, then forward again, like a man on a mission.

the flag drops.

and then they’re gone.

metal and absolute madness. sunoo is reckless, silver beauty swerving at every curve as jake matches him turn for turn, not quite ahead of him yet but racing like a shadow that can’t be shaken. the cheering of other solstice students is deafening, but you can’t blame them. it’s not every day you see the golden boys at each other’s throats, especially not at the race tracks.

by the halfway point, it becomes clear; they’re racing to wound, not win. sunoo’s reckless confidence is almost dazzling, he hugs cliffs like he’s unafraid of death as he pushes his very limits. jake isn’t far behind, cold and calculated, clinical and furious.

when they hit the last bend, sunoo hits the brakes almost too late. it’s a near disaster, his car skids, but he swerves just in time to avoid driving over the cliff.

jake doesn’t hesitate.

he pulls forward, winning the race and making the crowd go wild. but he doesn’t stop to soak up the praise. instead, he’s stepping out of the black lotus, throwing his helmet to the ground, and storming towards you like a man deprived.

you’re somewhere in between wanting to disappear and hold your ground when he confronts you.

“is this fun for you?” jake says coldly, and the crowd begins to murmur and gasp, some even whispering about a fight. “watching us tear each other apart?”

“you did that to yourselves.” you say dryly, and he scoffs.

“because of you.”

“she never asked us to fight.” sunoo shrugs from behind him, having already rolled up on his purring porsche like he didn’t almost skid off the cliff minutes earlier. ”this is about you and your damn savior complex.”

jake turns to him so fast it looks like he might swing.

sunoo’s still leaning against his car, hands in his pockets like this whole situation matters little to him. “you want to save her from solstice. from me. but have you ever considered that she doesn’t want your help?”

jake turns to you. “is that true?”

you don't say anything because you don't know, at least not yet. instead, you’re caught in between two boys and their unwavering egos like you came to this school to play a part in a twisted love triangle and not your revenge.

you suppose revenge was the plan, desire was the collateral. it was never supposed to be about them— until it was.

slowly, you raise your eyes to meet sunoo’s and they’re twinkling dangerously. as if to tell you something.

i told you i’d make it worth your time.

like 4 tag once released?

© SWEETFWR

[iboozi]

CALL ME YOURS pt 4

Genre: black cat! (Ish) reader / golden retriever! Jeongguk, reader is a bookstore owner, jk is just him, strangers to friends to lovers?

Summary: In which you call him yours.

Part : 4/4

w/c : 3.5k

A/N: Wow, I finally reached the last part!! So crazy that I made my first ever mini series. There is more to come!! Thank you to everyone who interacted with me from the start, even though I’m just starting out. I’m so appreciative of you! Don’t be stranger :) I’d love to interact with you guys, so my asks and dms are open. See you in the next story!

-Zoobi out 🪩

m.list, intro, part one, part two, part three

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

Four.

Growing up, you were always told that if you couldn’t run away from your problems, then you simply weren’t running fast enough. For the past month you had been jogging, even fast walking. All due to the fact that you had finally felt safe enough to slow down and catch your breath, because in some foolish way, you believed that someone else would catch up to your problems and pull them back for you. In some way you ended up relying on Jeongguk, and by doing so, your issues had their fist wrapped tightly around your collar, dragging your limp body back to the ground. 

The shop had never been so quiet. 

Even before Jeongguk’s appearance in your life, there would be a little hum that accompanied you on your late evenings. The fan would be on, or the windows on, and even the occasional voices of a passer-by. 

But with Jeongguk’s departure, the noises seemed to have ceased altogether. It’s like the shop knew something- someone was missing. The pink beanbag knew it, the way that Jeongguk’s imprint was still lingered there, the table in the corner knew it, the chairs positioned so meticulously that one was always slightly pivoted to face the other. Even the door knew it. For some reason, it started creaking when it was opened- another issue that you had yet to deal with. 

But you couldn’t. 

For three days you had been wallowing in despair after Jeongguk had walked out. Three days where you constantly paced the floor. Three days of half-drunken coffees that just didn’t taste the same. And three days of jumping at the slightest hint of someone entering the shop. 

You found that you glanced at the door, more often than you wanted to admit. You wanted to hear the creaking door and the loud thud of boots that would announce the presence of the wearer so quickly. You wanted to hear Jeongguk’s laugh, see his smile and feel the softness of his hands. You just wanted him back. 

You couldn’t even allow yourself the pleasure of music anymore. Because Jeongguk had curated the very playlist that you would put on every night. The playlist that you had ended up dancing to with him- just because. He always insisted on you playing the same songs every time he was around, and you begrudgingly accepted even though you claimed they gave a ‘sad’ vibe to the store. 

He told you it gave authenticity. 

“No one wants a pop song blaring while they try to choose a book – it makes them feel rushed,” he responded to your complaints. 

Now you would take his complaints any day over the silence.

You forgot how lonely it was before him. 

Even the photo that led to this moment couldn’t offer you the comfort it once did. It sat on your desk, partly hidden under a stack of books. Clearly you hadn’t learnt from last time, since you were going around hiding it in books again, but the damage had already been done- it couldn’t get worse.

In all honesty, you hadn’t been able to put it away. Maybe it was the guilt that kept you from hiding it. Could’ve been the longing you felt. Most definitely wasn’t because you had the sense that you owed it – and maybe Jeongguk as well – more than silence and a shut door. 

But it had taken you so long to forget the picture. It used to be part of your daily routine. Stared at it every morning. Kept it in your pocket all day. Stared at it in between shifts. Occasionally kept it in the back of your phone case. Stared at it before bed every night, before clutching it to your chest to the relieve the pain. It never went- the pain- instead, it ravaged a hole deeper into your heart, that the best way to leave it behind was to lose it. 

And you had thought that you lost it, truly. Lost a bit of yourself on the way, but it was better than feeling the pain. It was going fine until Jeongguk picked it up from the floor and pain had hit you like rocks. Not in one go, but bit by bit, where the hurt would magnify and worsen overtime. 

The bell rang. 

You looked up hastily, hope blooming in your heart, but it quickly dampened upon realising it wasn’t Jeongguk at the door. It was, Namjoon though.

You frowned upon seeing him – he wasn’t usually here on a Sunday. And he seemed to be missing his usual company, Seokjin. 

You watched as he walked over to you, coffee in hand and leaned on the desk.

“Hey kid,”

You gaped at him, and his choice of words. It had been so long since he had actually talked to you. 

“Not exactly a kid anymore,”

He laughed at this, an opened mouth, hearty laugh. 

“I forget sometimes. It’s been so long,”

You couldn’t help but smile along- he seemed to have that effect on people. 

“Where’s your buddy?”

“Who?” you asked, even though you knew exactly which buddy be was referring to.

He gave you a knowing look and simply smiled, small dimples popping out as he rested his elbows down in front of you. 

“I know you had a little falling out. And it might’ve been due to what I said to him,”

Your smile faded at his words.

Right. 

Jeongguk knew you were damaged goods, and you knew he knew. But rather than talking it out with him, you pushed him away. It’s what you were best at. 

Namjoon’s voice shook you out of your daze, “The anniversary’s coming up.”

All you could do was nod. It was hard around this time of year. But you always did it alone. It was harder now, knowing you could’ve gone through it with someone else, but there was nothing to do now. 

You looked up, meeting Namjoon’s soft gaze. He studied you, before looking around the shop. 

His eyes landed on the half hidden photo you had stashed under the books. He reached for it- eyes glancing up at yours for an okay- and pulled it out. 

Namjoon sniffed as he looked at the photo. 

“I miss him y’know,”

You fidgeted with the hem of your top, 

“Me too. All the time.”

An outsider would have no idea who the pair of you were talking about. One look at the photo would leave them thinking that you were talking about the younger you. But if anyone looked closer, the arm around your shoulders would give all the answers.

 More specifically the ring on the pinkie of the said person, the same one that now rested on your thumb. It was slightly loose, so there was some thread wrapped around the underside to keep it from sliding off, but anybody would be able to tell it was the exact same. 

“He’d be proud of you,” Namjoon whispered softly, fingers caressing the edge of the picture.

You scoffed at this. No chance. If anything, he’d be disappointed.

“No way.”

Namjoon sighed. He set down the photo and grabbed your hand,

“He would be. He always was. Told me every day- he never stopped talking about you,”

You paused slightly,

“He did?”

“Every. Day. It was always something new as well. Oh, she started a book club. Or it was how you passed your test with flying colours. He even bragged about you punching a guy,”

You sniffled softly,

“I never knew,”

Namjoon brushed his thumb over yours,

“Yeah, because he didn’t want you to see him soft. He just wanted to be the tough older brother.”

Tears welled up in your eyes at his sentence. ‘He never had to be’, you thought to yourself. You just wanted him to be around you all the time.

 You were selfish when it came to him. Always bothered him when he was with his friends, telling him to be home on time. Always asking for some of his food when you weren’t full enough, and always asking for a hug when you needed one, just because you liked the comfort of his arms. 

Even when he got sick, he obliged to your every request. More often than not, he would come home late at night, after working tiring shifts, just so the two of you could eat a hot meal together. You always offered to get a job so he could rest, but he never let you. Banged on and on about you finishing school, and earning a degree, which was ironic because he didn’t- he dropped out entirely just so he could support you two. 

And the young you, just didn’t understand. Why was he always working? Why wasn’t he going to his treatments? You’d shout and shout at him, and he would always just ruffle your hair and ask for a hug. Would always say that it looked like you needed one, but deep down it was him that needed it. The shaking of his hands, and the rattling of his lungs gave it away every time, but you kept silent because after all, what could you do?

It was only one morning that you had realised how seriously ill he was. You’d woken up, shivering in the breeze from the open window, when you had realised his breathing was shallow. Very shallow. 

You panicked and grabbed his phone, dialling the first number you saw. And ten minutes later, came the frantic knocking on your front door. You hastily opened it, to find a heavily breathing Namjoon, who pushed past you to where your brother lay. 

He leant down to check his pulse. And when he found the faint beating, he cursed and quickly picked your brother over your shoulder. 

The journey to the hospital had been a blur. You didn’t even know if your cried, or what you said to Namjoon. Just held on tightly to your brother’s hand, which paled by the minute. Even rested you head against his knee, in hopes that it would wake him up, because you knew that was his ticklish spot, and he’d push your head away whenever you attempted to attack him. 

Only when you had finally reached the hospital and the nurses had him set up in a bed amongst other patients, had you finally breathed.

This was before they started interrogating you about why he hadn’t been coming for his regular check-ups or was still waiting for treatment. 

That was the one thing your brother always did. He shielded you. Whether it was from your parents, or the teachers, he wouldn’t let you know what really happened. His fatal flaw, as everyone knew it, was you. Of course you had been the only one not to know, because once again - your brother was your shield. You only got the best parts of him. 

Only when Namjoon had stepped in to defend your unknowing, had you realised that you were just so naïve. Naïve to think that your brother could get better. Naïve to think that you wouldn’t be left alone in this world. And naïve to think that you could manage on your own. 

It was a crushing realisation, each second making it land tenfold harder, when your brother passed in the spring.

 It was a cruel play from God, who knew your brother’s favourite season was when the cherry blossoms bloomed. Your brother claimed it was winter part two, just slightly warmer and with prettier colours. 

But this spring was different. The winter air seemed to flow harshly into April, and the cold seeped into the petals, making them grey and dull to the eye. Maybe it was the loss of your brother that emphasised the lack of colour in your life, but your wounds were too fresh, that the pain prevented you from dwelling on anything but him. 

You never saw Namjoon after that day. Not until he walked into the shop four years later, one hand tightly clasping a sprig of cherry blossoms. It was like the past had been knocked into you, and you pretended not to recognise him. Not when the branch was left in the chair he sat in and not when he showed up weekly, either alone, or with Seokjin. 

It was like he was watching over you for your brother. You appreciated that he never tried sparking a conversation up with you, but here he was, your hand in his as he stood opposite you, face to face for the first time in aeons. 

“I just wanted him to be okay,”

Namjoon smiled at that. It was a sombre smile, filled with sadness that mirrored yours before saying,

“And he wanted you to be okay.”

Your breath hitched. 

And the dam burst. 

Years of emotions that you had closed off, because you deemed yourself as weak, flooded through. You had always turned a blind eye to your grief, just to protect yourself and to survive from the unbearable parting. You knew that that turning that blind eye, the passing time or other things never helped you overcome the sadness. But someone did. 

Jeongguk. 

For the first time, you had felt whole. For the first time you let yourself be. Just be. And he was patient in the way you existed with him. Never pushed. Never turned on you. Never left. He never did the one thing you feared people would. 

And in return?

You shoved him away and hid yourself in the smallest corner of your mind, only to feel more pathetic than before. He made you, you. The you that your brother knew. The you that you liked. 

You looked up at Namjoon, tears streaming down your face and stuttered out,

“I need to go.”

Namjoon nodded, letting go of your hand.

“You’re allowed to let people stay. Even the good ones. Especially the good ones,”

A laugh bubbled up in your throat. 

Your vision may have been blurred with tears, but your mind was the clearest it had been since Jeongguk had left. 

Your mind was racing with what Namjoon had said to you. It still echoed in the confines of your brain as you stood outside Jeongguk’s apartment, palms sweating against your bags straps and your breath shaking unevenly. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

The only reason you even knew where to go was because Jeongguk had left you a little note a few weeks ago, when you turned down an invite from him to have dinner at his apartment. 

Once again, he hadn’t forced you to go, and just left a small piece of paper with his address and building password in case you had changed your mind. 

How could he have been so thoughtful, even when your walls were sky high? How had he managed to peek over and knock it down, when there was still more to get past?

Jeongguk had opened up parts of you that other people failed to even brush through. 

And like the kind-hearted person he was, he opened the door to let you in again and again, as the key was always in your hand. 

Even now, the door swung open and there stood Jeongguk. Hair tousled. Eyes widening like he hadn’t expected you – as if  he was dreaming.

Hope flickered in his eyes, before he masked it with a clear of his throat.

“Hey,” you said, voice barely an octave above a whisper. 

He blinked slowly, “Hey.”

Silence creeped up. But it was nothing like the one in the shop. This one felt softer... more forgiving. 

It was like he was already telling you that it was okay. But you couldn’t let it stay the way it was. Not with so many things left unsaid. 

“I came to-” you started, then stopped. “I came to say I’m sorry. For shutting you out. For not letting you in.”

Jeongguk didn’t say anything. Just listened and waited. 

You didn’t let your eyes stray from his as you dug around in your bag and pulled out a small object – your camera. 

“I developed this.” You handed the photo you had taken of him a few weeks ago. It was the one you had taken of him in front of the fairy lights. His hair was messy, mouth half open in complaint and eyes wide in surprise – perfect. 

Jeongguk stared down at it, delicately brushing his thumb over the edge. 

“I don’t take photos of people. Never found the fascination. No one except you… and my brother.” You rambled quietly

Jeongguk’s thumb froze.

He looked up at you, eyebrows drawn together, silently asking you to go on. 

You brought out the cursed photo and showed it to Jeongguk once more. 

“My brother… and me.”

Jeongguk analysed the photo, and his eyes paused on one detail. Glanced up at you, then down to your hand, where your ring resided. 

He reached out and gently grasped your hand. You didn’t have to go further in detail. He already knew what you were implying to him. His special skill, one may say. 

Jeongguk opened his mouth, but you quickly interrupted, “I only take photos of people that mean something to me,”

His gaze softened. “You mean something to me.”

The weight of his words landed on your heart. No bumps. No turbulence. Just clarity. They didn’t scare you. They cracked a part of you open.

“I’ve never been good at talking,” you admitted. “I thought it would be better to pretend that everything was fine, that I lost the true purpose. Letting someone see me. But I want you to-so bad Jeongguk. I want you to see me. Everything.”

Jeongguk stepped outside, close enough for you to feel his breath curling around you- forming your own little bubble. 

“I’ve always seen you,” he whispered. “Just waited for you to notice.”

You smiled softly up at him. Reached your hand out to cup his jaw. Tangled your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and leaned forwards to capture his lips in yours. 

There was no initial rush in the kiss. It was soft, like delicate vines hanging over you two. But as your fingers brushed through his hair, you pulled him closer to you. 

Jeongguk responded with a slight urgency, hand slipping to the small of your back, tenderly pulling you closer to him. His lips were gentle, but as the seconds passed, his hand reached up for your jaw with a growing hunger that you had yet to acknowledge. 

You heart fluttered in your chest as your breaths mingled, slow and steady, and faster as the kiss transcended a mere connection – it was everything you and Jeongguk had been holding back from each other, everything you had been waiting for.  

You deepened the kiss ever so slightly, tilting your head to fit your mouths together in perfect harmony. Jeongguk’s hand shifted, and cradled the back of your head, thumb brushing the top of your ear. You shivered at the feeling and broke apart from Jeongguk, a small giggle leaving your mouth.

As you caught your breaths, Jeongguk rested his forehead against your – albeit slightly at an awkward angle, considering he was taller than you, but his fingers lingered at your nape and gently tugged you back for one more kiss, a sweet press against you lips that said everything you hadn’t yet spoken. 

Jeongguk laughed at your shocked expression, and just pulled you into his apartment.

“Come inside then,”

You followed, heart skipping with delight as you focused on your surroundings. 

His space was warm and cozy but cluttered in a way that felt like him. Like home. 

There were books on the floor, a specific one stacked right at the top and looked heavily tabbed- much more than you had last seen it. 

You looked over at Jeongguk, who had seemed to notice what you had been gazing at, and stood with his hands by his side, blushing furiously.

You laughed at his cute expression and gestured for him to sit on the couch with you. 

Jeongguk bounded over like a little puppy and sidled up next to you, ignoring all notions of  personal space and leaned towards you. 

“I think Call me your name is my favourite book as well.”

You scrunched your nose, “Copycat.”

He scrunched his back at you and shrugged. Leaned onto the back rest and threw an arm over your shoulder.

“So, are you gonna call me yours?”

You feigned confusion, trying to stop your laughter as you watched Jeoggunk’s grin fall.

“I thought you already were?”

Jeongguk’s elated grin, was enough to confirm that you had made the right choice. It would take time, but you would let Jeongguk in. 

The space between you closed. Carefully and quietly, but closed, nonetheless. 

Because, letting someone in didn’t mean you had to fling the door open all at once. Sometimes, it meant unlocking it, cracking it open ever so slightly, and trusting that they’d step through gently. 

And Jeongguk did. 

End

[garez19]

unsent

yandere streamer x loser reader: [part i]

notes: female reader, not proofread, english is not my first language. have a very lovely day everyone!!! wc: 1.6k

alden, he called himself. he didn’t have lots of viewers, though you remembered some of his clips going viral once or twice. he still seemed content with his lack of fame though, and you could guess he wasn’t expecting to be popular anyways as the games he played were very niche, and did go unnoticed by the mainstream. you, however, liked exploring the pits of the internet, finding weird websites and lurking abandoned forums everyday. being an unemployed loser let you know all about the media. and for some odd reason, your favorite part about this addiction was when you got a notification from his channel. “denonthebeat IS LIVE NOW!” how you liked clicking on it in a heartbeat. how you liked listening to him ramble about his not-so-funny life stories. you couldn’t help but think how similar you two were most of the time—considering your almost identical music taste and the way you laughed at the same things, how his audience kept calling him a socially inept loser that needed a life.

he was the man in your dreams, and it was a tragedy he didn’t know your existence. hell, he probably didn’t even know your nickname, let alone the adoration you had for him. but, there was nothing you could do except being a ghost and watching him interact with a bunch of people who seem to like consuming the sort of content. because deep down, you know him acknowledging you wasn’t going to change much except that he would be familiar with your nickname maybe.

but the point was, your obsession over him wasn’t decreasing. you didn’t seem to grow away from him. and that was the one and only problem as for now —except getting a job and moving out, of course— and there was nothing to do about it. you couldn’t go and tell him you liked his content, or that you would like to get to know him on a deeper level. you were close friends in your world, maybe even closer than close friends. in reality, he was just another loser with a questionable digital footprint.

and when he answered one of the questions on live, your whole world turned into a dystopia, an unfamiliar bitter taste left in your tongue. you were making it too big of a deal, you knew it, yet, this screen was all you had—-a small utopia you have created. it’s full of suffering, but you’ve always considered yourself a girl full of hope. this world, the screen, was too small for you to explore, but he made it seem bigger, full of colors. so when he answered, you didn’t know what to do.

“oh, well, love is confusing, you see.” he shrugged. “there is this girl I’ve had the biggest crush on, and I can say that adoring someone often leaves you confused. but it makes you more ecstatic.” he said. there was a different kind of light in his eyes, or so you assumed. “so ecstatic that you get the urge to create. like, when you cannot get your feelings reciprocated, you just, well, you just go and create something out of that love.” he added. a heavy ache on your chest, the urge to vomit. the urge to tell him to fuck off and report his account for bullying. as if. as if he knew you. as if.

“anyway. if you feel like they show some signs, I’d say go for it. my situation is rather different though.” he smiled. he seemed hurt though, that much was recognizable, even through the screen. “or create something, if it feels too heavy to carry. I mean, I solely make content because of her— since I can’t seem to distract myself from being a sappy loser.” he laughed. hell, this was your favorite part of him, the way he wore his heart on his sleeve often made you admire him. this was what you hate him about the most, he wore his heart on his sleeve.

the comments calling him a loser and making fun of didn’t seem to affect him, as he was reading some of them and sneering.

“what is she like? oh… well, I don’t want you to clip this and upload it on youtube calling me a loverboy, pass.” he said. this could’ve been a fun topic if you weren’t oh-so-fucking in “love” with him. others were having fun though, as they kept spamming questions about it. “why the fuck is everyone so nosy with it?” he laughed. and you agreed. why can’t he just shut up about it and play your favorite game? or watch stupid videos and react to them? this was the first ever time you contemplated leaving the stream. the first ever time you didn’t have fun. “where did I meet her? take a fucking guess pal. over the internet, of course.” he, once again, answered another question. fucking loser, you mumbled, as if your situation was any different. as if you didn’t live on the internet. “we live in the same city though, she’s just too much of a loser to go out,” he added. you frowned. you weren’t going to listen to him ramble about this person any more, so you just closed the tab. you had better things to do anyways, like replaying your favorite game. the one he also seemed to like a lot.

“what the hell?” he cussed out, seeming puzzled. “she fucking left.” he kept clicking on random buttons as the chat went crazy over the whole situation. “dumbass.” he said, clearly annoyed. questions from the followers didn’t seem to stop. “oh my god, of course it’s not her,” he answered the allegations, “I was talking about my sister who was supposed to be a moderator.” he lied quickly. he didn’t even have a sibling to begin with, but he didn’t want you to have any suspicions as he had a very little follower list. “well, that’s all for today anyway,” he got ready to end the stream.

“have a good day, everybody.” click.

is she not having fun anymore? he assumed, his mind running miles. he had planned his schedule very carefully, and he couldn’t watch it go to ruins. not when he calculated every single interaction he could have had with you.

and well, it was true that you “met” on the internet. but that wasn’t the only time you did, nor was it the first time.

he was running out of time, he believed. when the teacher was asking dumb questions to how to get to know someone and pairing students up. “ask your partner how you break the ice.” she said, putting you two up. it wasn’t the way to strike up a conversation, that was for sure, and in an ideal world he wouldn’t have to do that anyway, since these people kept blabbering about their hobbies and stuff he couldn’t care less about. so when he turned his seat so he could talk to you, he wasn’t expecting anything. 5 minutes left.

“well, in my o—“ he was interrupted when you stood up. he looked up at you as you asked for permission to go to the bathroom. 4 minutes left. at least you were also on his side in this battle. well, socially awkward kids were everywhere, no? he knew you weren’t going to come back, realizing you’d been looking at the clock and contemplating leaving. you had squinted your eyes, hand on your chin— you decided to leave.

3 minutes left. he took a peek at his classmates, their awkward glances darting towards each other. the other pair next to him was doing fine. the girl –though she looked wimpy at first– was holding her own, keeping the conversation going and checking in with her partner’s opinion. 2 minutes left.

right then, you came back to the class. ready to pick up your bag and get out of here. you sat down, collecting your stuff. and although you two were on the same side, he still wanted an answer. he was not having fun here, and might as well make it everyone’s –everyone he had to interact with, to be precise– problem.

“what do you do to break the ice?” he asked.

you can’t escape from your fate, you thought to yourself.

“well, try to find hobbies you both share, ask them questions, stuff like that,” you answered, not hesitating to give the most cliché answer. “how about you?” you asked, repeating the question. 1 minute left. “you wanna go grab a coffee?” he offered.

“valid answer.” you replied, thinking it was just another example. you were ready to leave the class, and he couldn’t help but give a quiet chuckle. you weren’t sure what to make of it. “yeah, yours wasn’t exactly ‘valid’ though,” he snickered.

“why not?”

the second he opened his mouth to answer, the bell rang. you didn’t even wait for an answer, and there was an unbreakable ice there, or maybe unmeltable in a sense. but, either way, he was having fun. maybe he was really wasting time in this class, in this school, but maybe, he could make it at least somewhat enjoyable. the following days were as dull since you had been absent for the week. the next week, when the class was finally familiar with each other, you attended the lesson. socially awkward kids everywhere, yet he wasn’t sure if you were shiesty or just didn’t care about the situation. you still didn’t put any effort, that was the only recognizable thing about you. and you didn’t appreciate it when he tried to help you out here and there. you gave out a fake smile, thank you, you muttered, and go on with your simple life.

you reminded him of himself, the only difference being you didn’t try to make fun of socially awkward kids. and you weren’t as curious about him as he was about you. your goddamn phone and that one notebook you kept scribbling in made it hard for him to reach out.

good thing he had lots of time to waste.

[latin5mamii]

Mall date- Jude Bellingham

Genre: fluff;

Summary: A mall date with your boyfriend is more tiring than he expects...

Author's note: cute bf alert!!

You and your boyfriend loved going shopping together, and what you loved the most was the trip to get to the mall, especially if it’s a long drive.

He loves to drive and talk about anything with you,listening to music and singing along, even if he’s not a professional singer,thank god.

You settle into the passenger seat of Jude's car, the anticipation of the day ahead adding a sparkle to your eyes. The radio plays softly in the background, blending with the soothing hum of the engine as Jude navigates through traffic.

"You know," Jude starts with a playful smirk, "I still can't believe you listen to this stuff. Do you secretly enjoy torturing me?"

You laugh, shaking your head. "I just like what I like. And besides, your taste in music isn't exactly cutting-edge either."

He chuckles, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the beat. "Fair point. But at least my singing isn't as bad as yours."

"Oh, please," you retort, feigning offense. "I'm a hidden talent waiting to be discovered."

Jude lets out a dramatic groan. "Don't quit your day job, love."

The banter continues as the journey progresses, punctuated by shared stories and easy silences that speak volumes about your comfort together. You steal glances at him when he's focused on the road, admiring the way his features are softened by the sunlight streaming through the window.

When you reach the mall, Jude parks the car with a flourish, flashing you a grin before opening your door with exaggerated gallantry. "My lady," he quips, offering his arm.

"You're such a dork," you laugh, linking your arm with his as you walk into the bustling mall.

Inside, you indulge in leisurely shopping, Jude eagerly helping you pick out clothes and occasionally holding up questionable items for your opinion. "What do you think?" he asks, modeling an outrageously patterned shirt.

"It's... bold," you reply diplomatically, struggling to stifle a giggle.

He throws it back on the rack with a mock sigh. "Guess I'll stick to football jerseys."

You continue browsing, occasionally getting stopped by fans who recognize Jude. He graciously poses for photos and engages in light-hearted conversation, his charisma shining through as he thanks them for their support.

As you explore the mall, Jude's stomach starts to growl. "I'm famished," he declares dramatically, checking his watch with feigned surprise. "How long have we been shopping?"

"Not long enough for you to starve," you tease, rolling your eyes playfully.

"I'm a growing lad," he insists with a wink. "I need sustenance."

You find a cozy cafe where you settle into a corner booth, sharing a hearty meal and swapping stories about your day. Jude delights in ordering an indulgent dessert, his eyes lighting up at the sight of a towering sundae topped with whipped cream and sprinkles.

"You're going to regret that later," you warn, amused by his childlike excitement.

"Nonsense," he replies with mock indignation, digging into the dessert with gusto. "I have a bottomless pit for a stomach."

You laugh at Jude's antics, shaking your head affectionately as he continues to devour the ice cream with unabashed enthusiasm. He insists on finishing every last bite, occasionally getting a dollop of whipped cream on his nose or chin, which only adds to your amusement.

"You're making a mess," you tease, handing him another napkin to wipe his face.

"I can't help it," he replies with a sheepish grin, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Ice cream brings out my inner child."

"I can see that," you say, chuckling softly. "But you're my favorite child, so it's okay."

He mock-gasps in mock-offense, dramatically clutching his heart. "I'm honored to hold such a prestigious title."

After the snack break you literally find your boyfriend almost falling asleep on his feet waiting for you to get out of a shop.

“You literally spend hours running all over a football field and now you’re almost falling asleep, are you serious?”

“Shopping with you is tiring,more than a football match”

He says stroking your head and bringing it close to his shoulder. You can't do anything but wrap an arm around his waist and hold him tightly to you.

[swiftiedaisies]

my thunderbolts headcanons!!

yelena:

• has a very varied music and film taste. when she was free from the red room, she wanted to experience everything and find out what she liked and didn’t like. she loved being able to explore her interests

• brings random animals into the tower. she knows she can’t keep them so she takes them home to clean and feed them. she then either takes them to a shelter (that treats animals well and doesn’t kill them) or she tries to find a home for them

• talks about people in russian with bucky and alexei. normally it’s just basic things like food and the weather but she thinks it’s funny bc it stresses john and ava out

• had very mixed feelings about the publicity she gets now. she loves being a hero but she doesn’t like the tabloid gossip that she gets. ESPECIALLY the stuff that brings up nat. every night she questions whether nat would be happy with her being a new avenger

bucky:

• even thought he’s still not totally comfortable living in the tower, he adores all the expensive things in there. fancy coffee machine? he’s using it every day. high tech gym equipment? loves it

• ended up keeping one of the cats that yelena brought home one day. he treats that cat like it’s his child (marvel pls introduce alpine)

• can cook but lies that he can’t so he doesn’t have to share kitchen duty with john. he’s very proud of the fact that no one has caught him out in this lie yet

• he tries to have one on one check in conversations with each member. he does it very subtly so they don’t realise what he’s doing. he knows what it’s like to be struggling with guilt and how keeping it all in hurts. he doesn’t want anyone to go through what he did

bob:

• as he gets more comfortable with the team, his confidence grows…and so does his attitude (we see it a bit in the movie when he calls walker an asshole). he can shut someone up with one comment

• absolutely despises being babied by people. sometimes the team unintentionally do it, he knows they mean well but them walking on eggshells around him just makes him feel 10x worse. he just wants to be treated like a normal person. he talked to yelena about it and the team made a conscious effort to stop

• he starts dropping random info that ranges from a funny story to the most devastating thing you’ll ever hear. his funny stories are really entertaining tho and everyone likes hearing them

• adores animal crossing. it’s a good way for him to de-stress after a hard day. him and ava visit each others islands

ava:

• loves video games. she got animal crossing bc bob suggested it and she actually loved it

• a pr nightmare. if she gets asked a question in a press conference, she’ll give the most deadpan slightly threatening answer. journalists are scared of her

• phases through walls instead of using the door. she finds it funny to scare people

• she grew up with no friends (bc of shield) and missed out on a lot of experiences bc of this. she likes to do normal girl things with yelena to help her experience these things she missed out on. it also helps her with her social skills

john:

• literally the only team member that can cook a decent meal (other than bucky who pretends he can’t)

• really into football and ice hockey. he literally screams at the tv when a game is on

• the youngest of three brothers. he was compared to them throughout his whole childhood and it messed him up mentally. it’s why he feels the need to be the best at everything

• can play guitar. would rather die than tell anyone. ava found out and is blackmailing him

alexei:

• can’t cook for shit. the best he can do is plain pasta

• actually very good at getting brand deals for the team. he was the driving force behind the wheaties partnership

• tries to take yelena out for ice cream at least once a fortnight. she isn’t totally onboard with it at first but it becomes a way for them to work through the issues they have. their relationship gets better the more they talk

• loves fortnite. he once unknowingly played with thor for hours.

[nyctoaerah]

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋

╰┈➤𝐒𝐘𝐏𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐒: Who would've known that the man you spent a night with was the very same man that you're planning to kill? It was a cruel twist of fate, cause as you spent more time with him, you found yourself growing attached-inlove even. But, you ended up knowing the truth about suguru’s death, and the thirst for justice and redemption for Suguru consumed you. The pursuit of absolution drove you to consider any means necessary, even if it meant risking your own well-being, your sanity, your very essence. You were willing to sacrifice everything just to obtain the revenge you so desperately craved, even going as far as to ignore your feelings for Satoru. After all, it doesn't really matter, because Gojo Satoru was yours, he was yours to play with, he was yours to manipulate, and yours to kill, and he’s not complaining about it.

╰┈➤𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: explicit smut, dub-con (kinda since they’re drunk) overstimulation, drunk sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (both m and f receiving), dirty talk, nasty shit all that. Virginity loss.

╰┈➤𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Yandere! Gojo Satoru x Fem! Op! Assassin! Suguru's adopted daughter! Reader

╰┈➤𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: This story is the revamped version of my previous fic “Devil in Disguise” it has the same plot, but this one just has a better story flow in my point of view;) also available in Wattpad and Quotev! Hearts and reblogs are greatly appreciated! I already posted this, but this time, i extended it and actually posted the full smut;33 Also, random fact; Gojo’s fingers are canonically 6 inches;)

╰┈➤𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Next chapter

YOU HAD SOUGHT REFUGE in the confines of a random club, craving the numbness that alcohol promised.

You were hoping that the pulsating music vibrating through your bones and swirling burn of alcohol would drown out the  hollow emptiness you were feeling, you wanted to push all of your thoughts aside—to forget about Suguru’s death.

Just that, all you wanted was to drink and feel the buzz.

So how did you find yourself in this compromising position, your body entwined with a random man whose name you didn’t even knew?

How did you end up on his lap, on his bed, making out with him?

The kiss was feverish, your tongue sliding sensually against his, the taste of his mouth was reminiscent of the tangy sweetness of freshly ripened strawberries, yet there’s also this faint tang of alcohol, a flavor lingering from his previous indulgence, perhaps.

A needy whine escaped your lips as your hips undulated against his, seeking greater friction.

“So impatient...” He mumbled as one of his hands gripped your hip to keep you in place, while the other hiked the fabric of your dress up to your waist, exposing your bare skin to his heated touch.

“Can i?”

You whispered, your voice barely audible in the dimly lit room. His breath hitched as your fingers grazed the silk blindfold covering his eyes. 

“Do as you please pretty girl. I’m all yours.”

You hooked your fingers beneath the bandages and slowly, reverently, lifted it away, revealing eyes half-lidded and swimming with lust.

Long, white lush lashes framed irises the deep, captivating blue of the ocean. Your breath caught in your throat—he looked so exquisitely, devastatingly beautiful without the concealing fabric—He was already pretty with the blindfold on, but gods was he smokin’ hot without it—You’re not sure if you’re just exaggerating things, but fuck, did he looked ethereal.

His snow-white hair tumbled down to veil his face in a curtain, softening the sharp spiky hairstyle he had when he was wearing a blindfold.

You bit your lip, watching as the rounded bump just under the skin in the front of his throat bobs ever so slightly at your intense gaze. A slight flush heats up on his skin, and you touched it, pressing the pads of your fingers on his skin.

You scarcely had a moment to bask in the sight before he took the discarded blindfold from your hand and let it fall to the floor, forgotten.

His mouth explored the sensitive column of your neck, tongue tracing lazy, meandering paths.

You arched into his touch slightly, wanting for more contact, craving the delicious friction that might ease the aching tension coiled low in your belly.

“You sure that this is what you want princess?” His silky baritone caressed your ear as he pressed open-mouthed kisses along your shoulders.

“I don’t wanna take advantage of you, not when you’re drunk.”

“Mhm.. m’ sure.”

Though the drink had clouded your mind, beneath the shallows of intoxication stirred a deeper craving—something you never felt before, you’re sure that you wanted him.

“I’m not drunk.”

His brows arched in doubt as his hand glides down your spine with practiced care, finding the clasp that holds your dress in place, the clasp yields to his deft fingers, baring your flesh to his exploring gaze.

“Your words say yea, angel, but i don’t want no dubious consent. I want full consent.” 

“No, S’ not dubious, you have my full consent.” you murmur, trailing your hands along his neck, tracing the pulsing vein in it before your hands dipped down and slipped beneath the hem of his shirt. Your fingers trace slow circles over his taut abs, feeling the contours of hard muscle and flush skin.    

His body was warm, and quite nice, comforting even.

He shivers at your delicate touch—which you found to be quite cute.

You found his words weird, however—It contrasts with his actions, that’s for sure.

“I want you, okay?” you breathed on his ear, eliciting a visible response upon his flesh as shivers caressed his form. He swallowed with effort, aroused yet wary, cognizant of the libations which dulled your inhibitions as his own.

Satoru was in no means a person who likes alcohol, he hates it, infact, however, he ended up drinking, just in hopes to forget about Suguru.

Very much like you so.

But he didn’t really expected that he would end up having a woman on his lap, not that he’s complaining, ofcourse. You’re quite beautiful after all.

“Hey...It’s still dubious, can be counted as non-consensual too. Cause you’re drunk. I don’t wanna take advantage of you, okay?” He said.

You fixated your gaze on him, a brief moment of silent observation passing between you. His movements, though tinged with a subtle languor, was filled with restraint, that surpassed your own faltering self-control.

“Nope.”

you insist softly.

“I’m not drunk.”

His eyes smolder as he considers your flushed cheeks and parted lips.

“Your speech is slurred.”

“Nope, S’just an effect from you,” You replied with a lopsided grin.

“You take my breath away.” You mumbled, prompting him to blink owlishly down at you.

“Random as fuck.” He chuckled.

“But, i’ll take it. Just tell me to stop and i’ll stop, yeah?”

Your heart fluttered rapidly at his words, and a faint blush crept onto your cheeks as you swallowed thickly, your throat suddenly felt too tight, too dry.

After all, You hadn’t expected such considerate behavior after everything, such genteel conduct took you aback.

“Safeword?” you asked, your voice slightly unsteady.

“hm.. Strawberry?” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

“Wait...” you say, craving the taste of his name on your tongue, “I still don’t know your name”

His brow lifts in amusement.

“Would you scream it if i were to tell you?”

You shivered as his warm breath tickled the sensitive skin of your neck His lips hovered so tantalizingly close that you could almost feel his ghostly touch against your skin, tempting you to lean into it.

“Don’t worry. I won’t leave any marks, unless you want me to..?”  His voice was velvety smooth, laced with a hint of lust, causing a flutter in the pit of your stomach.

“Do you want me to?” He murmurs, slowly withdrawing his touch from your skin.

You hesitantly lift your shoulders in response, shrugging.

“Speak, angel, use your words.”

“I’m fine with anything,” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper.

A pleasant hum escaped him. “Good girl.”

You looked at him, pupils dilating slightly.

“You never answered my question though. What’s your name?” you uttered softly, your fingertips caressing the contours of his abdominal musculature in delicate strokes, tracing upwards towards his pectorals. As your hands explored the topography of his torso, drawing sensual patterns across his flesh, his breathing became heavier. He let out a hum of approval, hooking his fingers beneath the hem of his garment and lifting it swiftly over his head in one fluid motion and discarding his shirt on the ground.

You lifted your gaze to meet his, your eyes instinctively drawn to the pale line bisecting his torso. The scar was long, yet its texture intrigued you. How did he got it, you wondered.  The scar was long, begining from his throat towards his lower abdomen.

It fascinated you.

You swallowed thickly.

“Can i touch it...?” 

“Do whatever you want. I’m all yours.”

Your fingers drifted slowly along its length.

“Satoru,”

“My name is Satoru.” he uttered the name, and for some reasons, each syllable was laced with a familiarity that tugged at the edges of your memory, muddling your thoughts with a sense of déjà vu.

But you were too loss in the moment, not even able to think clearly, thus, you were oblivious to the fact that...

He’s the person that you’re planning to assassinate.

“That’s a pretty name,” you breathed, your pulse quickening at his caress.

“I’m pretty sure yours is pretty too.” he replied with a soft smile, his blue eyes staring intensely at yours as his thumb swept slowly along your lower lip, parting them like the velvet petals of a rose. An intoxicating shiver ran through your body at his delicate touch.

“[Name],” You mumble and he sighs.

“Sounds like a good name to groan about.”

He murmured and lifted you off him and lied you amongst the silken pillows, your [H/c] tresses fanned out, forming a vivid halo around your flushed features. His eyes lingered over your form, his tongue swiping on  his lower lip to moisten them.

“Alright, Just say the safeword, and i’ll stop, yeah?” He says, earning a nod from you.

“Speak.”

“M-mnh.. yes”

“Good girl.” He praised softly.

“I’ll do all the work, yeah? Just lay down there like a good girl n’ let me please you.”

Slowly, his lips brushed the skin of your neck, eliciting a sigh from you. his fingertips traced your spine down to the clasp of your bra, and a quiet flick of experient fingers released the barrier, freeing your chest to his hungry gaze.

“Beautiful.” He complimented.

His fingertips leisurely caress delicate circles around your nipples, coaxing a delicious ache of pleasure to ignite. He lavishes attentions on one nipple, drawing it into his mouth while his nimble digits continue their expert ministrations on its twin, evoking an unabashed moan to escape your quivering lips.

He lets go off your nipples with a pop.

Starting at the base of your sternum, he planted slow, sensuous kisses, inching ever lower towards regions still untouched. When he reached your stomach, he placed a gentle kiss on your belly button.

Moving away from the bed with graceful precision, he knelt before your quivering form and slid greedy hands along your thighs, grasping your hips to pull you on the edge of the bed, so that his head was completely positioned between your legs. A wanton moan escaped you then as he lifted one leg high, draping it over his broad shoulder.

“Relax, f’me pretty girl.” He said, after noticing how tense your body is.

You watched, enamoured as he pressed a line of searing kisses along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh—he looked so pretty while doing that.

He hummed as he saw the dampness in your underwear.

“Look at you,” he chuckled breathily.

“All we did was kiss, n’ you’re already soakin’ wet.”

His lips traced delicate patterns along your thigh, each fleeting caress like liquid fire on your fevered skin.

Fuck, who would’ve known that he’ll turn you in a whining mess with just his kisses?

Humiliation blooms in your throat as you realized how pathetic you are right now, You clasped a hand over your flushed visage, heart pounding erratically against your ribs.

Satoru seemed displeased with that though.

“Hey, none of ‘that” He scolds.

“Lemme see your pretty face.”

You took a ragged breath, though anticipation swirled within you, nervousness lingered at your edges. But then, this is what you wanted isn’t it?

“I-i don’t wanna.” 

He scoffs and shifted his weight, pressing you further into the pillows.

“Do it.” He says.

You shook your head and he sighs.

“If y’don’t take your hands off your face, i’ll tie you up n’ fuck you till you can’t walk.” 

“ S’ that what you want angel?”

“No..” You sighed, not wanting to get tied up, you slowly curled your fingers away from your flushed face.

“You’re so shameless...” You mumble.

“Yeah, no shame at all. Why would i be shameful of myself when I have a pretty lil’ thing like you under me? All soakin’ wet n’ pretty.”

“Besides... I know you like it anyways,” He mumbled.

Satoru’s tongue, hot and wet, darted out to leave a scorching trail against the tender flesh of your inner thighs.

You sighed, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation.

“Open your eyes n’ look at me, pretty.”

“I want you to look at me while i eat you out.”

This is so embarrassing and humiliating that it hurts, your throat constricts, his words makes you embarrassed, he was just so blunt, so shameless—he was all so sweet and using romantic words when you’re just kissing.

But fuck, did satoru changed once you gave him your consent, pressin’ you on the sheets like that and saying filthy words.

You reluctantly fluttered your lashes open to meet his stare, laying yourself bare as fingertips ghosted ever higher.

“See? That’s a good girl. Now just lie there princess, let me make you feel good.”

You felt yourself swallowing thickly as he hooked nimble fingers into the lacy edge of your undergarments, sliding the delicate fabric down your legs.

It was slow, agonizingly slow, too slow for your own liking.

Your body suddenly involuntarily jolted as a wave of his scorching breath caressed the intimate flesh between your legs.

“So pretty..” His words were a low murmur, infused with a hunger that made humiliation to bubble up your chest, feeling embarrassed.

“Don’t... don’t stare,” you murmur back, feeling self conscious, flush of embarrassment tinged your cheeks, your hips shifting involuntarily beneath his intense gaze.

“Don’t stare... S’ making me embarrassed.”

With a devilish smirk dancing on his lips, he gave another teasing lick on your thighs. Satoru wouldn’t lie, he wanted to bite your thigh so bad, sink his teeth on your plush thighs, and leave a mark, but he restrained himself from doing so.

“No, m’not staring love, just... studying, don’t be embarrassed” he murmured almost innocently, his words a stark contrast to the boldness of his actions.

“Besides... You’re so beautiful in here... You just can’t just expect me to not compliment it.” He says.

You shook your head. “It’s not that... It’s just.. i.. i haven’t done this before.” You mumble.

“Haven’t done oral before?” He questioned, watching as your face burned as you shook your head.

“I’m a virgin.” You confirmed.

His sapphire eyes widened at your confession and his throat constricts, adams apple bobbing in his throat.

The revelation caught him off guard, each breath he took feeling like a fleeting gasp of surprise. He had not expected this revelation, not from you. Your actions had spoken of confidence and skill, and, damn, you sure did like a seductress.

His hand twitched, the pads of his fingers pressing on your thighs slightly.

“No wonder you’re so shy...”

He pulled back slightly, a tinge of guilt creeping into his consciousness at the notion of overwhelming you. Aware that his dirty words may be foreign to your ears, he gazes upon you with a mixture of empathy and desire.

“We can stop this if you want.” he offers, his gaze intense and probing.

“Shit no.” you murmur.

“Don’t stop. I want you.” The words escape your lips in a breathy whisper, laden with lust, restraint flickers in his eyes, as he caught his lower lip on his teeth.

“If you say so. I have a thing for popping cherries anyways,” He says with a laugh. 

Your breath suddenly caught in your throat as his thumb glided teasingly over your clit.

A playful chuckle escaped his lips at your sensitivity, before he leaned in once again, his warm breath ghosting over your heated skin as he kissed your clit.

“Sensitive, are we?” he chuckles softly before dipping down to give your throbbing clit yet another teasing lick, releasing a desperate whimper from your parted lips.

His fingers gently spread apart your folds, his face inches away as his tongue teases your slit, the wet muscles licks the slick trail that has gathered on your pussy, eliciting soft whimpers from you as your body instinctively responds with a slight arching of your hips.

“aah.. hnngh, satoru”  You mewled.

“You taste so good... heavenly even.”

With another tantalizing lick, he savors the exquisite taste of your arousal. His hungry mouth then latches onto your pulsating clit, sucking on it gently. Moans escaped your parted lips as you clutch onto the sheets.

He devoured you as if starved, his hunger palpable in each expert lick and fervent suck, transforming you into a feast he couldn’t devour quickly enough—Your moans were like delicious music to his ears, and fuck, did it it make him hard. He whines, grinding against the edge of the bed, seeking friction.

“I can just eat you out everyday and not get tired of it...” he moaned shamelessly, his voice slightly muffled as your hips bucked involuntarily, a whimper of pleasure escaping your lips.

“Love your taste so much.”

Satoru’s tongue moved skillfully around your clit, softly brushing against it to send shivers down your spine. With deliberate movements, he gently licked it in distinct patterns, exploring your most sensitive spots.  

His fingers grip tightly onto your hip, while he eagerly indulges in pleasuring and sucking on your bundle of nerves, causing a titillating sensation that makes your inner muscles contract and a surge of euphoria creates a swirling sensation in your stomach.

“Feels good, doesn’t it, pretty girl?” satoru whispers, his words muffled by his persistent oral ministrations. As he continues to pleasure you with unwavering determination, the pleasure he evokes from within you cannot be contained, escaping your lips in the form of unrestrained moans. The pleasure becomes so overwhelming that it threatens to engulf your vision, as though a curtain of stars is poised to blind you from the outside world.  

“Fuck, Satoru, i-i’m.. haaah..” You panted, thighs shaking as your insides contracts, a tingling sensation radiating on your body.

“I know. C’mon. Cum for me, angel. Lemme taste you on my tongue,”

You let out a deep moan, succumbing to the intense climax as you cum hard. Radiating satisfaction, satoru hummed contentedly while skillfully lapping up every trace of your released essence.

“You taste like heaven itself, just like i thought...” he whispered, his voice filled with longing, as he withdrew from your pussy and stood up and pressed his lips against yours. The taste of your own cum lingered on his mouth, intoxicating and arousing, causing you to moan in pleasure before surrendering to his passionate kiss. 

As the two of you kissed, his touch ventured lower, his hand finding its way to your puffy clit again, rubbing it, prompting a chorus of moans from you.

Your breath hitched when you felt his middle finger probing your hole gathering your slick before slowly pushing inside.

“Breathe.” He whispers.

“Hngnh, Satoru.” You whined on his mouth as he added another, his fingers were so long and thick, filling you so deliciously. The sensation of his fingers stretching you from within was intense and slightly painful, yet somehow enjoyable in its own way. 

“You’re so tight, you gotta relax n’ let me in.”

You bit his tongue, causing him to let out a low moan.

“There..  you gotta adjust.. that’s it, good girl.” He murmurs, whispering sweet nothings into you.

Satoru’s cock throbbed painfully beneath his straining trousers, yet he focused solely on pleasuring you, expertly thrusting his fingers in and out of you. When he grazed upon a certain tender zone, an eyebrow arched knowingly as your riven flesh clenched tightly around his digits as he pulled away for a bit.

“Ahn.. hnn please,” You panted.

“Oh?” He purred slyly.

“Hm? Is something wrong?” He murmured, once more curling his finger upwards and pressing that spot within your pussy, drawing forth a lustrous moan as your arched your velvet back in pleasure.   

“You tightened around me, did i hit a good spot?”

“this is where you’re weak, isn’t it?” His digits thrust rhythmically into your inner sanctum, coaxing ever more ardent moans of euphoria from your lips.

“How cute.”

A molten pool of desire gathered low in your belly, waves of euphoria washing over your trembling frame.  

Satoru bit his lip as his hand slid stealthily down within his own constrained trousers, swiftly freeing his engorged member to pump smoothly within his curled fingers.

His thumb smeared the precum that was leaking on the tip, using it as a lube to slowly jerk off.

“Aahh... Fuck..” he moaned gutturally, his fingers, still buried deep within your moisture-slicked cunt, he withdrew his fingers sluggishly and raised it languidly to his lips, his tongue darting out to taste your essence.

“C’mere.” he says, sitting upright and patting his lap

His voice was ragged with want as he beckoned you closer. You rose from the rumpled bedsheets and moved to him, sitting on his lap, feeling the heat of his gaze as it roamed your naked form.

“Kiss me.” He commands.

You immediately kissed him, the taste of your essence still upon his mouth, and it made butterflies fluttering in your stomach. His cock pressed against your skin as he stroked himself.

“haah... Feel that princess? ’m so hard for you”

Breaking the kiss, you gazed down at satoru, drinking in his beauty as your fingers traced the lines of his chiselled abdomen, following each dip and swell. Your mouth followed the path of your hand, pressing feathery kisses along the scar that he had, revelling in each hitch of his breath and twitch of muscle beneath your ministrations. 

Your gaze then lingered on his cock, admiring its size and girth. The tip was flushed red with arousal, and it twitched at your gaze, you pushed his hand away from it.

He seemed to be surprised at that—yet didn’t make a move to stop you.

“Ah, Ah? Did i told you that you can touch me?” He teased.

You nipped on your lower lip, as you tentatively wrapped your hand around his shaft, marveling at its sheer thickness that challenged your grip.

“No... But i wanted to touch you.” You mumbled, You ache for deeper intimacy, craving the solace of flesh against flesh in your drunken haze. 

“Mmnh.. maybe if you’re really that desperate... Maybe i should just give it to you, hm?”

“Tell me what you want.” he says, his fingers entwining in your hair, tugging gently to lift your gaze to his. A moan escapes you.

“You,” you manage to breathe out, the craving evident in your eyes. His eyebrow quirks.

“Be specific.”  he murmurs, his tone commanding and seductive.

“I wanna please you too,” you confess, your words laced with need—all the shyness from before leaving you, only lust remains. He exhales heavily, releasing his hold on your hair.

“So eager to please aren’t you? Such a good girl.”

He hums.

“Go on. Suck me off, show me what that pretty little mouth can do.”

As you followed his command, you delicately bent down and rested your head on his cock. Extending your tongue, you dragged the flat of your tongue and traced the vein that prominently bulged on the underside of his dick.

Your tongue slowly traced a path up his shaft, moving towards the tip. With anticipation, you opened your mouth to take him in, feeling a bit of discomfort as you adjusted to his size. It took some time for your jaw to accommodate the width of his girth as his tip brushed against the back of your throat. 

You looked only to see that he was only half way in, and shit, you just realized how much he’s gonna hurt your throat.

 “Ngh.. you gotta relax your throat if you want to take me in your mouth.” he moans, sensing your discomfort as you struggle not to gag. Following his instruction, you comply, feeling Satoru's sharp intake of breath as he nips his lip in pleasure.

Despite the sensation being pleasing, it's clear that he craves more.

“C’mon angel, take me deeper.” he urges softly, his fingers entangling on your [H/c] locks, his gaze fixated on your hollowed cheeks and watery eyes. The sight of your tears only serves to fuel his desire to push himself further into your mouth, relishing the idea of watching you Choke on him. The thought of you looking so enticing in that vulnerable state drives him to actually thrust himself deeper down your throat. 

Satoru thrusts upwards, causing your throat to constrict as you struggled to breathe. Tears ran down your cheeks and saliva dripped onto his shaft.

“Breathe through your nose.” He instructs.

“That’s it,” he uttered with a sensual groan, his eyes half-closed as he guided your head to move back and forth on his dick. He licked his lips, observing you as you found it difficult to deepthroat him.

He hummed contentedly, the room filled with nasty squelching sounds. He savored the feeling of your throat tightening around his cock like a vice.

Such a poor thing, he thought, feeling your fingers dig into his thighs.  He ran his fingers through your [H/c] tresses before slowly withdrawing from your mouth with an audible pop, a strand of viscous fluid on your lips cheeks flushed and eyes dewy.

“That’s enough, i don’t want you vomitting on my dick.”

Gingerly, he swept the disheveled locks from your face and captured your lips once more, not giving you a time to recover, humming as he tasted himself on you. When at last you broke for air, chests heaving in unison, he met your hooded gaze with a glint of intrigue.

“You suck at this.” A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth as his strong hands found your waist.

“M’ sorry,”  

You shuddered involuntarily as his fingers delicately traced the contours of your neck, eliciting a chill that radiated through your trembling form. Soft whimpers escaped your quivering lips.

“Shhh..” he cooed in a velvet tenor, his palm softly gliding along your side before his digits pressed deeply into the plush of your ass. A small gasp passed through your slightly parted mouth at the fervent sensation of his fingernails gingerly clawing your supple skin. 

“I know that y’wanna please me.”

“But there is no need to overexert yourself,” he said as if he wasn’t the one who practically shoved your face down on his dick.

“I enjoyed it,”

“D-did you?” you inquired.

“Fuck yes, your throat’s squeezin’ me so tight n’ it feels good.” 

A swelling sensation arose within your thorax as elation is in your throat, though an acute pain seized your esophagus. Your larynx felt inflamed and raw, as if scoured by sandpaper. But despite the troubles afflicting your throat, you had performed admirably based on his praise, you felt proud.

“Maybe i should reward you for bein’ so good?” he purrs, his hand sliding from your stomach down to your lower abdomen, a low hum escaping his lips as he plunges his fingers into your hole. A sharp gasp escapes your lips as he begins to curl his fingers inside you, pressing against your g-spot and stretching you again. As moments pass, he withdraws his fingers, your slick coating them entirely.

“I think you’re more than ready.”

“Let’s get you on top, yeah?” he says lifting your form to straddle his hard cock.

He reveled in the sight of you nestled against his towering frame, a delicate contrast to his strong physique. Each ragged gasp you drew in, every flush on your face, and the smudged remnants of makeup only served to enhance your allure in his eyes.

“C’mon, take me in.” he says, kissing your cheek. “Just hold onto me”

Your response was a subtle bite to your lower lip, a silent surrender as you obediently placed your trembling hand on his firm neck, burying your heated countenance in the sanctuary of his shoulder.

“Hm...”

He hoists you up slightly, his firm hand wrapped around his cock, guiding it towards the heat between your thighs. The tip of his arousal brushes against your clit, eliciting a fervent sigh as you inadvertently dig your nails into his muscular back.

“Ready?”

A soft whimper escapes your parted lips as he slowly eases into you, the initial entrance is a searing burn, it burns deliciously as he splits you open.

You sunk your teeth into his shoulder, the searing sensation reverberating through you as his cock pressed against your cervix with a tantalizing ache. “Relax, let me in.” his whispered command brushed against your nape, his lips trailing kisses as his fingers drew deliberate circles upon your quivering skin.

“It’s... it's too much,” you gasped, the overwhelming fullness causing you to scrabble at his back, your nails digging into flesh as you felt the sting of tears welling in your eyes.

“T-too much, ‘Toru, please,” You writhe

“C’mon, You can handle it,” He remained motionless, allowing you the space to acclimate to the invasion, his warm breath ghosting over your ear as he urged you to yield.

“Relax, pretty, let me in.” 

Your head swims with a dizzying blend of pleasure as you feel him deep inside you, his hand venturing downward to circle and massage your clit. Gradually, you begin to acclimate And he exhales in pleasure  as he revels in the tight clench of your walls around him, the exquisite sensation coiling through him.

 “Do you feel that?”

“You’re taking it so well,” he groans.

“It fits so perfectly well isn’t it? It’s like you were made for me.” he whispered.

“Alrighty, time to move okay ? Put your back into it.” he gripped your hips firmly, he guides your body to ebb and flow along his dick. 

“Up, down.”

You couldn’t help but let out a loud moan as you felt the heat of his rigid cock gliding inside of you . His hips bucked, setting a quickened pace that had your breath hitching in pure ecstasy. Your eyes fluttered shut as each powerful thrust hit that sweet spot deep inside you, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through every fiber of your being.

“‘Toru, ‘Toru” You whined his name.

 “Pl-please," you gasped, your voice laced with need, as you instinctively dug your nails into his muscular back, raking them down with a delicious sting.

“I need… I need you to… kiss me,” you managed to murmur. 

“You want me in your mouth too, hm?” He teased before pressing his lips against yours, your teeths clashing together.

“Fuckk, that’s it...”

His soft expletive escaped his lips as he reluctantly withdrew from the intoxicating embrace of your mouth. His hands slid down the curves of your waist, mesmerized by the sight of his cock moving rhythmically within you.

“Your lips taste like ambrosia,”  he murmured, his words accompanied by the clenching of your inner muscles around him.

Fuck, he was drunk in your sounds, drunk in the way you feel, you were just so heavenly.

“C’mon, cum. I know you want to.” he coaxed, a low moan escaping him as he felt your body shudder in ecstasy, tightening around him as you cum hard.

The sensation of your climax sent a jolt of pleasure through him, his own release building rapidly. His abdominal muscles clenched as he inhaled sharply, the intensity of the moment overwhelming him.

“Fuck.. can I... inside?”  he asked in a whimpery voice, seeking your permission in a breathless whisper. You, lost in a haze of pleasure, simply nodded in acquiescence. With a guttural groan, he emptied himself into you.

Even as he already released, his pace did not falter, fucking you as if you’re his little human fleshlight. His grip on your waist tightened as he deftly shifted your positions, swiftly flipping you over so that you were beneath him.

“Let’s go for another.”

━━𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋

Your respiration came in uneven gasps as your tongue lolled delicately from your mouth. Your visage was flushed a deep scarlet and a sheen of perspiration coated your form. Your gaze, though half-lidded with lust, remained trained attentively upon him. Situated backwards upon his lap, your legs were parted widely as he nestled his face against your scapular region. Your hands clung desperately to his  biceps.

One of his hands rested upon the slender column of your throat, while the other rests on your chest, playing with your nipples. His cock thrusts rhythmically into your inner sanctum the tip of his dick kissing your pretty little cervix, coaxing ever more ardent melodies of euphoria from your lips.

His hand slid down your body, a subtle pressure teasing the soft curve of your abdomen as he pressed against the small bulge on her abdomen.

“Haah... Fuck.. you feel me in there pretty? M’ so deep in you.”

He let out a low moan, his grip tightening around your hip as he intensified his rhythm.  

Satoru’s respiration was labored, eyelids weighed down as his lips caressed your shoulders delicately. Crimson marks peppered your skin where his mouth had wandered voraciously. Your back met his chest in a slow slide,  your skin kissing his.

The sound of heavy breathing, moans, and skin slapping against each other vibrated through the room.

Your thighs ached dully and muscles sore from prior exultations.

“mnhh.. ‘Toruu, please,” You mewled, squirming.

“M’ tired already, Please... S’ too much.”

You two have been going on it for some quite time now, how many times did he made you cum again? Was it six times? You can distinctly recall experiencing orgasm twice from his tongue, once from his fingers, and three times from his cock. The sensation of being stretched caused considerable discomfort, even though he took the time to prepare you, it still stung.

“Mnh.. my poor angel is tired, huh?” satoru uttered in a mellifluous tone, tracing the swirling contours of your auricle with the tip of his tongue before affixing an ardent kiss on the pulsing carotid beneath. 

“Don’t worry.” Satoru says.

“I’ll take care of you after this... So, just be a good girl and take it all, okay?”

Satoru had already become enraptured in the way you tasted and sounded, drunk on the melodic chorus of gasps and moans that spilled wantonly from you. Though sobriety had returned to claim his clarity of mind once more, for you intoxication still lingered and he knew it.

He wanted to stop, but how could he? You were squeezin’ and taking him so good and deep, and he just needed this release after the suguru incident after all.

He was having too much fun in splitting you in half after all.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

AUTHORS NOTE:

I CAN'T BELIEVE I WROTE THIS SJKSKSJS, fun fact; i’m an asexual virgin. It's so funny writing this HAHHAHAHA, i literally CACKLED when i was writing “pussy, cunt, cock,” AHHSHSHAH MY IMMATURITY COULD NEVER😭 I WOULD KMS IF I EVER ADDED BALLS.💀

[taldigi]

how do you feel about yu’s parents?? What do you think they’re like?

I think they're really interesting to explore- believe it or not. I've seen a lot of different interpretations of his parents, ranging from straight up negligent, to being abusive-- or just simply too busy. I've even seen interpretations where they're perfectly fine parents, and that the year abroad is an unusual circumstance.

The game itself, which is what I would consider primary canon (sequels being secondary and manga and anime being tertiary) never touches on it more than it needs to to justify Yu's presence in Inaba/being new. I think Yu's mother is briefly mentioned once or twice and they are said to have called Dojima once.

I made the observation (previously when theorizing about Ren's parents) that it's completely possible that during the downtime that you don't get to see between transition stages (where, theoretically, the main protagonists would do homework or take a shower or tend to other daily needs) it's totally possible that they call or interact with their parents.

All interpretations are possible, but I know Souji Seta's (the protagonist from the Manga) parents are always moving around- and lot of folks have taken this to heart- and yeah, I can see it and I too like this idea- even though it's worth considering the fact that the manga is mostly secondary to the games (and even the anime!) and it's not definite canon.

That being said, I definitely like the idea that they are a sort of echo of the conflict between Nanako and Dojima. Both suggest career oriented people that probably shouldn't have had a kid in the first place who prioritize their work over their family.. and that, in turn, leading to neglect- with Yu and Nanako both being self sufficient. mature for their ages, and complacent.

Behaviors Yu exhibits- like his ability to cook meals beyond what is expected of a teenage boy, becoming incredibly attached to Nanako (he is one wrong dialog choice away from killing someone over her!) and Inaba, the insatiable need to people please, his initial desire to push people away or ignore others, and his otherworldly emotional control and ability to not express himself.. -is stuff like that echos of a kid who's had to grow up way too fast and not cause any trouble and keep to himself.

So personally, I subscribe to that concept: Yu's a kid who's been raised to be seen, not heard- developing complexes and anxieties over being praised for being responsible and mature even though he's only barely meeting that expectation by the skin of his teeth. Nothing less that being perfect for the Narukamis, after all- there's no time to make friends or have many interests when time is better spent on studying.

So... the Narukamis are parents who fufill those concepts. Parents who withhold attention and praise because those are things reserved for truly impressive successes.. and when exemplary is the expected baseline, such rewards are never actually acted upon.

Yu does have a taste in cooking, though- and a selection of music he likes. He doodles in his notes and reads magazines- I feel it expresses that while his parents don't police his interests, it also means that they really care much about their son's interests... as long as they don't interfere with work (and, by extension- Yu's grades or behavior, as he can be considered an asset in said jobs)

Jobs that leave them busy more often than not, leaving Yu alone.. but he's mature for his age, so it's okay. He prolly does a fried egg and toast and then goes and sits in front of the TV to do his homework. Yu seeing this in Nanako... is a lot, and makes their relationship that much more sweet and aajhksdkjasf

His parent's cruelty is best decided on a story by story basis. The level of willfulness in their work (genuinely needed often vs choosing work over family for example) or the level of regret they express upon leaving-- informing many interesting stories.

so yeah thats my thoughts on that.

side tangent, thats why souyo's so nice tbh. Yu always has to be the inconquerable senpai, the perfect big brother, noble leader, and everyone's rock- only to have Yosuke waltz up , hang off of him like a drunk girlfriend, and go "yeah he's amazing, but he's also the world's weirdest man and he's my best friend about it."

[helloitstsyu]

Tennessee Whiskey | Tom Cruise

Fantasize Series Chapter 8 | Previous Part | Fantasize Masterlist

Thankfully, the head injury isn't serious. A week of strict observation, IVs, bland food—and finally, they discharge you from the hospital. You still have a bandage on your head and dizzy spells every now and then, but you're okay. You can walk. You can breathe.

Tom visits often—always with your father, of course. Your father watches you like a hawk, still shaken from the sudden accident. And Tom? He visits like he's checking in on a pal's daughter. Like he didn't just confess, days ago, that he can't live in a world without you in it.

You breathe a little easier now. Sleep a little better. Knowing Tom is only a few feet away from your cabin.

You stay in Utah, in the temporary cabin they've rented near the set. Your dad refuses to let you fly home just yet. Says you're still healing. Still fragile. So you stay. Stay quiet. And behave.

Except tonight.

The silence of your room grows too loud. The stars outside your window feel too still. You miss home. You miss freedom. You miss—

Him.

And you're hungry.

The only place open nearby is that tiny diner-bar on the road to the cliffside set. You've heard the crew mention it before—small, quiet, barely lit. Perfect for slipping into the shadows and pretending the world doesn't exist.

You walk in just before midnight, the bell above the door giving you away.

Tom is already there.

Your heart drops—and flutters—all at once.

He sits at the bar, fingers loose around a glass of amber. A bottle of whiskey beside him, nearly gone. He looks up as the bell chimes and mutters a breathless, "Great," before throwing back the rest of his drink.

The bartender glances over, eyes meeting yours. There's something like recognition in them. Like he knows who you are. Like maybe Tom's already told him too much story about you.

"Are you Y/N?" the bartender asks.

You glance at him, startled.

The blonde man nods like he's reading the sudden thick tension between you and Tom.

"You should stop him," the man says in a slow Southern drawl, wiping the counter. "Ain't nobody gets through to him but you."

Your feet move before your mind does.

You slide onto the stool beside him. He doesn't look at you right away. He tries to not look back at you, fingers fumbling with the rim of his glass.

"I thought you didn't drink," you say gently.

"I don't." He reaches for the bottle and pours another.

Before he can bring it to his lips, you reach over and stop him. He sighs—sharp, defeated—and puts the glass down.

"Wanna tell me what's it about?" You ask.

His head turns to you. And those green eyes—God, those eyes.

They meet yours.

And it hits you all over again—how they burn.

Then he leans to you, too fast. His face comes inches from yours. You can smell the whiskey—burnt sugar mixed with his cologne.

"You," he says simply. "It's you, darlin'."

Your knees threaten to give. That word—darlin'—tastes too tender coming from him. Dangerous.

You swallow. Bite your lip to hide the way it wants to curve into a smile at the sound of it.

"Me?" You ask again.

He nods.

"Because your face. Your scent. Your voice. Your wit. Your stubborn little pout when you fight me. Your heart. Your damn soul. All of it. All of you."

He laughs, quiet and bitter. "I've been sober for over a decade—and one ridiculously stunning girl steps into my life, and just like that—" he snaps his fingers, eyes dramatically widen "all my control's gone."

You feel your breath catch. Heat flushes under your skin.

You know he's drunk. You know that.

But it doesn't make a single word feel less true.

"Come on, cowboy," you whisper, pulling his arm around your shoulders. "Let's get you back to your cabin. You've got film to shoot tomorrow."

He makes a show of ignoring you—just as the music changes.

The first guitar chords of "Tennessee Whiskey" hum through the speakers.

Tom returns to his stool. "Ah... hang on. I love this song."

"Tom—"

"Shh." His index finger touches your lips "Just listen."

He gives you a boyish–tipsy grin and he starts to hum along to the tune of country guitar, his head swaying. His hand fumbles with yours. Fingers slowly intertwining. Soft touches. Like your fingers dancing along the tune with his.

He looks at you deeply. With a thin smile. Almost like admiring you.

And suddenly—

"Dance with me."

Before you can protest, he stands. Gently tugs you with him toward the center of the room—right under the flickering neon beer sign.

"Tom—please—" you try to pull your hand away from him.

But he doesn't let go.

You glance around.

The bar is mostly empty. Just the bartender and a couple of guests tucked in quiet booths. But the flush of embarrassment still creeps in, curling beneath your skin.

Tom, meanwhile, looks elated. Glowing. Like he's waited forever for this moment.

"I can't dance" you quietly protest

He chuckles. His hand settles on your waist. Nearly makes you gasp as you feel his warmth through your thin top.

"Just follow me," he whispers. His other hand takes yours.

He starts to sway. And you just follow, awkwardly so...

You never danced before. Not even prom.

The first chorus floats in the air. He sings it softly against your hair, breath warm on your temple. "I used to spend my nights out in a barroom... Liquor was the only love I'd known..."

Your throat catches. You're stunned by how beautiful he actually sounds.

"But you rescued me from reachin' for the bottom... and brought me back from bein' too far gone..."

"You're as smooth..." he sings, "as Tennessee whiskey..."

He pulls back slightly, giving you a crooked, dreamy smile. "Isn't it great? 'Tennessee Whiskey'—and we're dancing in Tennessee..."

You squint, brow arched. "Uh... we're in Utah."

His head tilts, confused.

You can't hide your laugh.

"Right," he says, memory returning. Then he laughs—and it's the one that could make you fall to your knees.

"You're drunk, Tom"

"No, i'm not," he grins

You play along and match his swaying rhythm. Tom's voice stays steady through the haze of whiskey. He keeps singing—every lyric, every slow syllable of "Tennessee Whiskey" like it's sacred. His voice isn't perfect. Rough around the edges, raw. But it doesn't matter. Because he's singing to you. And he still sounds beautiful.

Eyes on him. Heart soft and open, basking in the quiet warmth of him. The way he holds you close. The way he doesn't look at anything else but you, like nothing in the world could distract him now. You don't speak. You don't dare ruin it. You let the song speak for both of you.

Then the solo guitar break hums in, slow and sultry.

And suddenly, without warning, he spins you fast under his arm.

"Tom—!" you gasp, surprised, stumbling in your own feet.

But he catches you with a grin. Your laugh comes so easily it startles you. A giggle. The kind you haven't felt in what seems like forever. It bubbles up and slips out, light and real and happy.

Tom looks at you and smile like he's just won something. "There she is!"

Your mouth falls open, cheeks flushed. "You're so drunk!" you laugh.

"Little bit," he admits. "Still know what I'm doing though." He winks.

The song swells again, reaching the last chorus. He pulls you in closer, one arm wrapped around your back, the other guiding your hand over his chest and holds your hand above his beating heart. Like he needs you to feel his heartbeat, so you'll know it's all real.

His heart thuds steady beneath your palm. You smile, trying to savor every second.

You smile. Eyes up, full of warmth. "I didn't know this song."

He breathes your name. "Y/N..." His voice is almost a sigh. "This song is you."

The melody swirls around you, sweet and aching. He presses his forehead to yours, eyes shut tight like he's afraid to open them and wake up without you. And you realize—

He's not just singing.

He's confessing.

Every lyric. Every word. It's everything he feels.

"You're as smooth as Tennessee whiskey..." his finger softly pushes away your hair. "You're as sweet as strawberry wine..."

Your heart sears in your chest. Your hand, the one on his chest, curl into his shirt. "Tom..." you mutter

"I love you," he says, like it's been breaking him. "I've always loved you, Y/N. Even when I shouldn't have. Even when I promised I wouldn't. Even when I knew better.... I love you." he shakes his head like he can't deny it anymore.

Your heart cracks wide open.

And after a beat, you find words to reply him.

"You hide it so well," you whisper.

Tom shakes his head. Hands still holding you close—one on your back, the other holding your hand at his heart. "I thought it would keep you safe. I thought if I stayed away, you could breathe."

"I can't," you confess. "Not without you."

He exhales sharply, pulling you tighter against him. His voice drops low, velvet and torn.

"I see you in every damn thing. I hear your laugh when the wind blows. I smell your shampoo in the trailer, and I'm not even sure how. It's like you haunt me—sweetly, cruelly." He smiles. Like the kind that shows you've been breaking him by your absence.

Your lips tremble. "Then stop running. Be here. With me."

"I want to. God, I want to."

He leans in.

And this time, when his lips brush yours—soft, slow, reverent—you don't stop him.

The kiss isn't desperate. It isn't fast.

But it sears. His mouth moves with aching reverence, like he's afraid to break you. Like he's starved.

It's months of longing poured into one quiet moment, in a nearly empty bar in the middle of nowhere.

You stay there—swaying, kissing, breathing together—until the song fades into silence.

Until it's just you and him.

And the soft echo of I love you still lingering in the air.

———

Taglist

@katluke23-blog

@anima-patronos

@tom-cruiseisalegend

@sdrose93

@kujolin12-official

@ashdyh321

@sabsthedoll

[r0manceplanet]

hallo!!,, ^_^ uuuhh this is my first time doing one of these so my apolocheese if this is worded oddly!! X-(

Fandom: forsaken

Pronouns: they / them

Gender + Sexuality: agender and pan (open to polyamory)

Personality: i'd like to say im a fairly positive and caring person!! i LOVE socializing, but at the same time I have HORRIBLE social anxiety, so it usually takes me a while to actually get the courage to get to know people,, X-[ I'm typically a very quiet and reserved as im not typically that energetic of a person,, but if I know you well, and if i have the energy for it, then I definitely can become very outgoing :-)

Hobbies: Photography, gardening (every flower I've tried to plant has died within a week </3) studying quantum physics, baking, and storytelling (I LOVE CREATING STORIES!!!)

Likes + Dislikes: i LOVE horror stories, i don't care WHAT form of media it even is I JUST LOVE HORROR!!!! same goes for quantum physics!! Though I'm specifically interested in multiverse theory!!!! also I really really like music!! My music taste shifts very often though, so I like a LOT of different genres,, ^_^;; OH also i love, love, LOVE flowers with all my heart!!!! I'll even paint or sketch them occasionally!! I just wish I actually knew how to take care of one AUGH💔 ((as for dislikes,,, surprisingly there's not much i dislike other than, like, basic things that everyone dislikes,, but if I really had to think of something, I guess don't really like crowded places or overly energetic people(like, YouTube family blogger type of overly energetic. they SCARE me) oh and also ketchup i really hate ketchup))

Love language: Quality time and words of affirmation

What i look for in a partner: someone who l can communicate with, and will communicate with me whenever there's an issue going on and will love me no matter if I'm acting reserved and quiet or energetic and outgoing. But overall, someone who spends time with me and shows they really love me <:-)

(AUUGGHHH SORRY IF THIS WAS LONG DUDE!!! D-:)

FORSAKEN MATCHUP #3

Thank you for sending in your matchup! and it was not too long at all! I love the stuff you added too, you seem like a really cool person— AND I think I had the most fun with this one since I matched you up with someone that I felt was *chefs kiss*

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Press “Keep Reading” to see who you got matched with!

I have matched you with… Azure and Two Time!

• Oh boy, you would not believe how excited I was when I matched you with these two, they both just fit you so perfectly in a way I cannot describe!

• You would meet them both before the games took place and before Two Time slowly turned insane, you were the latest member to the spawn cult, and they were both very eager to introduce themselves to you, they slowly got to understand you more through the conversations you all had together.

• Your insane knowledge for quantum physics was the reason why you were recruited to the cult, it was an asking help to help the cult grow more powerful for other people to join, and two time and azure loved learning about it through you, especially your passion for multiverse theory, they got to share a few things in common with you because of those two topics, which eventually leads up to them figuring out how to ask you out.

• They both were a little nervous on figuring out how to ask you out, they didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable, and they didn’t wanna lose you. Two time was the one that brought the idea up to Azure about how to ask you out, and to talk it out if they were both ok with dating you since they were still partners, but once learning they both share the same feelings with you and were on board with a plan, they go on to ask you out, with two time being extravagant about it with bringing gifts to you as an offering LMAO.

• After they asked you out, and (hopefully) with you agreeing they both were through the roof happy about it, and once things are settled with being in a polyamorous relationship with them, the fun begins. It’s so much fun being in a relationship with the both of them, whenever you all plan a home date azure and two time are both bickering about what movie they wanna watch, or about what they wanna do— but once you come up with an idea you wanna do, they throw all of their ideas out the roof and go along with what you wanna do.

• I headcanon that they both don’t listen to music often, with the reason being that they don’t have the time to listen because of how devoted they both are to the cult, but once they are together with you that all changes when you make them listen to a few of your favorite songs through their playlist, and then they both get into it and make their own, Azure seems like the type of dude to listen to soft music, like pop or j-pop (like lamp, ichiko, etc) and while two time seems like the type of person to listen to nu metal and rock. They would both make a playlist with you in there to listen to all of your favorite songs, and they put it on whenever they’re both hanging out with you.

• If you were to ever paint the two of them, they would both be in awe and hang it up, you made a portrait with azure and two time, and another one with you all in there, and they hung it up in the house they share with you, and they love staring at it whenever they’re both bored. And with your love for flowers, I feel like you would have so many colorful portraits of them being surrounded in flowers, and I feel like they would hang up those portraits you give them with a flower themed case.

• About flowers, Azure would give you a bouquet of flowers as a sign of his love towards you, that also goes for two time too, two time would also do the same but tends to get you other gifts than flowers and leaves that up for Azure to do. Azure makes flower crowns for the three of you, and takes a selfie afterwards. I can see the three of you running through a field of flowers without a care in the world, sprinting through the field and then tripping while laughing all together, it is truly a beautiful sight of the love you all carry for each other.

• Since you mentioned that you have social anxiety and it takes the courage to talk with people, I feel like they would easily get you to come out of your shell, and two time is the person that’s the most social in the trio, and even when you met them they were the first ones to introduce themselves, same with Azure but he’s also like you when meeting people, but oddly gets comfortable when he met you.

• You will always get compliments thrown your way from the both of them, and their compliments are super creative, they always compliment how good you look in a certain type of clothing, or pointing out the little details on your face that make you all flustered and fuzzy inside. They’ll always praise you because of how perfect you are to the both of them, and they couldn’t be more grateful to have you in their lives.

• You and Two time have the best horror stories, you both always tell each other them deep into the night, with azure listening to the both of you talk, and him adding in as well. Azure loves the stories you and two time come up with, and even you and two time have a little notebook you share with the stories you both created. Azure reads them while you both are sleeping each night (as long as he can read while being in the chaos of being close together while sleeping).

• When Two Time slowly goes insane, you and azure both notice immediately as they get slowly further from you both, and you and azure ask if they’re alright and they brush it off with a small “Yeah, I’m alright why?”. It didn’t seem like a big deal at first until an incident happened at the cult where you discovered that Two Time sacrificed azure for a ritual order in order for them to receive a second life, you felt like your entire world just crumbled in front of your eyes while screaming and crying at two time about what they’ve done.

• But two time doesn’t kill nor sacrifice you, no, not at all, but they threaten you that if you try to leave them you’ll end up just like Azure which forces you to stay in the relationship, and you will always live two time, of course you will, but your heart can’t fully recover after what they did to azure, you cry about it silently every night while they’re sleeping next to you. And once your in the games, you only have two time and they only have you, your stuck with two time forever there’s no leaving, will you ever see Azure? And when you do will he recognize the both of you? You don’t know, but when you do you’ll give him a hug and whisper secret apologies into his ear about how sorry you are that you couldn’t be there to protect him, and if he does kill you then it’s whatever, but 99% chance that he won’t, but he’ll always feel resentment towards two time, it’ll take a long time for him to mend things with them.

• Even without the incidents that happened, you have a very loving relationship with the both of them, even in the end when two time become demented and azure coming back to life just to be a killer, you will always have their backs even when the two of them aren’t on good terms with each other anymore, they’ll have you and they don’t mind sharing you, maybe things will slowly get better with them, hopefully, maybe someday things will go back to how they used to be.

[alexsoenomel]

About Love(Dean Winchester x Reader drabble)

Summary: You and Dean have a conversation about life before falling asleep.

Warnings: None

Note: I saw this kind of dialogue in Neil Gaiman's American Gods and since I'm trying to get back to writing I decided to write just that, no descriptors, just dialogue.

"Dean, what was your dream before becoming a hunter?"

"I've never really thought of that, why?"

"I've been thinking about my dead dream and started wondering about yours."

"And what was it?"

"I was young and lost, so I had a couple of things in mind and that would also change from time to time. From a psychologist to librarian, but one thing always stayed and that was I wanted to write books."

"You never told me you like to write."

"Used to. And you never told me about your dream."

"I never had time to think about that. My old man gave me a riffle before I even realized I could have a dream."

"That's impossible everyone has a dream."

"Dreaming wasn't a thing in our household, I guess."

"What about love? Family? Something you wanted to do when you were a kid."

"I was too busy taking care of Sam to think about my own needs and wants. But I wanted a family at one point when I got older that's for sure."

"Like kids?"

"Yeah, I told you about Lisa and Ben. I've experienced what it would be like to have a normal life and I really liked it, but the job never leaves you."

"I know. When I was a teenager I used to write stories every single day after school and I was convinced I would grow up to be a writer slash something because doing one job for the rest of my life sounded so boring and yet here we are."

"What kind of stories did you write?"

"Romance, lots and lots of romance."

"Wait, really?"

"Yeah, I was a lonely teenager obsessed with love and being in love. My parents used to tell me that I loved too much and guys I dated never appreciated that."

"That makes sense."

"How so? You appreciate the way I love and put the same amount of effort in this relationship."

"Yeah but it took time. I didn't really know what I was doing when we first got together. I knew your heart was made not to be broken, but I was still struggling not to hurt you. I knew underneath that badassery was someone gentle and kind."

"Hey, sue me but I still try."

"And I knew you needed time, especially since you're not really famous for communicating your feelings properly."

"Yeah, you do. You're the first person to NOT hurt me just because..."

"That's the last thing I wanna do and you know that."

"I do. You're also the first person that made me think about having kids with..."

"I know."

"I never told you I wanted kids."

"Last year when you thought you were pregnant I saw it on your face. You were so disappointed when you saw only one line."

"To be honest I was scared, but at the same time..."

"Yeah, me too."

"Do you still want it?"

"Yeah, I think about it all the time but hunting is not something you can just quit."

"I know. Maybe in another life we will find each other again, have boring jobs and a family."

"How many?"

"A boy and a girl."

"I don't think I'd be good at being a girl dad."

"Oh you'd be perfect. A little bit overprotective but she'd have you wrapped around her finger."

"Like her mom."

"And our son would admire you and would think his dad is a badass."

"I like the sound of that."

"Like I said, maybe in another life..."

"Also great music taste would run in the family if you don't count Sam."

"That's for sure."