#i left out so many because i didn’t want to make this really long + i wanted provide explanation as to why they were worth the watch

[astonmartinii]

other side of the moon - chapter six | formula one imagine

chapter six: fireproof

pairing: fem retired formula one driver reader x ??? fem retired formula one driver reader x platonic!kimi antonelli

testing is finally here and after the car launch, y/n is not looking forward to the mercedes garage

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR | SERIES MASTERLIST

the day and a half after the car launch before max was called into the factory by red bull was a slice of peace y/n had longed for for three years. but also one she couldn’t help think would be the last bit of peace she would be afforded this season.

the pair woke up the morning after the launch, bundled up together and hair sticking up in every direction.

“good morning” y/n said, words smothered by max’s chest. the dutchman grumbled to himself as he wrapped his arms around her even tighter.

“max, your phone won’t stop vibrating - please tell whoever it is to fuck off”

max groaned, flipped over and grabbed his phone. with his eyes shut, max jammed a couple buttons and suddenly the gravely voice of helmut marko rung out.

“max! where are you? the team have just informed me that you left early and are not at the hotel?”

the dutchman finally opened his eyes. he pulled y/n back into his side and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“helmut, it’s too early for this many questions.”

“i asked you one, very straight forward question, max.”

“i’ll be at the factory tomorrow, don’t worry.”

helmut sighed down the phone, “wherever you are, make sure you’re not late and not spotted doing anything untoward.”

“me? untoward? helmut, i didn’t know you thought so low of me.”

“the only reason i believe you is because you’re on your best behaviour with y/n back, maybe we should add her to our payroll as well.”

y/n couldn’t stop herself before she burst out laughing. she smacked a hand over her mouth but it was too late. helmut hummed.

“i see. good morning miss y/ln. make sure he’s in top condition for tomorrow.”

“will do, helmut.”

max hung up as soon as he could and threw his phone down the bed. he smiles down at y/n, “that’s not exactly how i pictured my first morning in bed with you.”

“so you’ve pictured this?” y/n questions, raising an eyebrow.

“no? yes? maybe? i definitely have but i don’t want to creep you out so what do you want to hear?”

y/n laughs as he buries his head in the pillow, whining in embarrassment.

“maxy…” she sings and pokes his back.

“don’t look at me! i’m a freak!” max yells, muffled in the pillow.

“but you’re a freak for me?”

“isn’t it obvious?”

y/n finally gets max to lessen his grip on the pillow and look back up at her. there’s a dusting of pink on his face and a concerned look in his eye.

“don’t worry, i like it. as long as you’re only a freak for me.”

max ducked his head again, “as happy as i am to hear that, can we refrain from saying it like that? i was proud i managed to wake up without morning wood and you’re really testing that resolve right now.”

y/n’s laugh reverberated around the room. without the needy meows of brando, the pair could stay snuggled in the bed for much longer than usual.

“max?” y/n asked, the dutchman had rearranged them so that he could be the little spoon and had his head resting on her chest, “please don’t be sorry for your feelings. they don’t make me uncomfortable and unlike others you didn’t just assume i reciprocated. i like what we have and i want to see where it could go, but i want to take it slow. i don’t want people butting in and adding their two pence. i just want you - and our furry babies.”

y/n could see the smile breaking out on max’s face before he even lifted his head from her chest.

“i said i just want to exist with you,” max said, “that will never, ever change.”

the dutchman’s eyes flicked down to her lips and the blush returned when he realised he wasn’t too subtle about it. y/n gives him a small nod and max leans in.

“can i?”

“please,” y/n whispered as max’s lips connected with hers. it was a small peck, just a press of lips, but it was enough. both pulled back and smiled, happy to breathe the same air for a while. y/n’s hand wrapped around his nape and pulled him in for another one. this kiss lasted longer, the pair pouring their years of pining into it, communicating something words could not describe.

for a moment y/n wished that she hadn’t returned to formula one. she wished that this would be her life. happy in her coop in west london with her and max’s cats waiting for the dutchman to come home, far away from her past ghosts and the sport that nearly killed her.

“will you still find me attractive in mercedes kit?”

“that’s a stupid question. you’re the most beautiful person in the world. yes, i would prefer if it were my number and my colours, but i’ll live with it if it means seeing you at every race.”

y/n giggled, the dutchman pressed another kiss to her lips because he could.

“i know you’ll be rooting for kimi this season, but i’ll win every race for you. even if the red bull is a shit box, i’ll fight everyone to bring that trophy home to you.”

“my singular monza trophy is a little lonely,” y/n said, “but your wins are yours, not anyone else’s”

y/n pushed back the duvet and started to get out of bed, much to the chagrin of max. despite his attempted puppy-dog eyes, y/n shuffled into her slippers and made her way to the kitchen.

“find something good to watch, i’ll cook up one last cheat meal for you,” y/n’s voice called from the hallway. max stayed led in the bed, a dumb smile on his face. it all felt a bit too good to be true and he hoped those in the paddock who had already caused some trouble would stay out of this.

despite another night of snuggles, max did not want to leave for milton keynes the next morning. y/n had made him a breakfast sandwich for the ride, but it did little to console the young dutchman even though the pair would be apart for just two days before they’d reunite in monaco and fly out to bahrain.

“i don’t wanna go… i want to stay here, you’re so much nicer to look at than christian!”

max was dragging his feet as he made his way to the hire car. he even tried to delay his departure by roping frank into a conversation but y/n had thought of that and rung down to reception in advance.

“it’s like you want me gone!” max cried as he put his bags in the car.

y/n laced her fingers in his, “you know i’ll miss you, but i don’t want to hear helmut’s voice any more than i have to, so you have to go. i’ll see you in monaco.”

max pulled her into one last kiss and reluctantly got into the car. y/n waved him off as he disappeared into the streets of london.

“finally!”

a yell boomed out in the garage, making y/n jump and stick her keys out as a makeshift weapon. frank stood at the entrance of the garage with a huge smile on his face. y/n calmed down when she saw the older man.

“frank! that scared the shit out of me! how long have you been there?”

“long enough.”

frank looked very smug. y/n made her way to the entrance, pointedly ignoring the older man.

“don’t be mad, i won’t tell anyone. i’m just glad you finally realised what was right in front of you.”

did everyone see it before her? it certainly seems that way.

“we’re taking it slow, so i’d appreciate if you kept this under your hat, frank.”

“of course, miss y/ln. would you like me to arrange for another parking spot for your flat?”

y/n tried to keep a stern look but she just couldn’t help it and smiled at the older man.

“that would be lovely, thank you.”

her apartment was quiet without max. she didn’t want to say she missed him just yet, but she had to busy herself with something before she fell down that hole. she needed to pack and get a flight back to monaco so she could spend a little more time with the cats before pre-season testing kicked off the season.

y/n’s phone buzzed with a message.

kimi: y/nnnnnnnn huge favour to ask! george can only give me a lift back to london before we go to bahrain so could i maybe get a lift to brackley???

y/n: if you buy my coffee at each stop you’ve got a deal.

kimi: yes, yes. i know your order - THANK YOU !

she better get to packing.

the italian stood on the side of the road, wrapped up in two coats, a hat and a scarf. ollie stood beside him in just a t-shirt, some shorts and a pair of flip flops, showing off his british aversion to the cold.

y/n pulled up beside the pair and winded down the window. “don’t you know hitchhikers are dangerous?”

kimi smiled and gave ollie a quick hug, popping the boot and shoving his small suitcase in. the italian slipped into the passenger seat and waved at ollie.

“why didn’t i have the idea to ask you to be my mentor?” ollie whined, “esteban is great and he has already given me a ton of lifts but you’re you!”

“snooze you lose” kimi said, poking out his tongue.

“esteban is great ollie, don’t believe all this shit about him being a bad teammate. he’s lovely and will be more than happy to help you out. however, we do need to go because i need to drop off this princess and get a flight to monaco. ciao!”

y/n stood on the gas and flew off down the street. from the corner of her eye, y/n could see kimi studying her. this wasn’t too strange for the italian, he often just stared at her, amazed that she had even agreed.

“i can feel you staring kimi, do you have a question?”

“why are you so happy?”

y/n laughed at the bluntness. the italian sputtered, “i mean i’m happy you’re happy, but i can’t help but be suspicious. i haven’t heard a peep from you since the car launch… and a little birdy told me you left with a certain someone.”

“it’s been two days, kimi!”

“you’re still smiling, you can’t stop and considering you smiled maybe twice in the first couple days i knew you - this means something!”

“fine! you caught me. i did go home with max. i’m not saying anymore than we’re happy and we’re taking it slow. i’m telling you because i believe for a good mentor relationship i should be completely open, as should you. also you’re like a quasi-son to me so there’s also that. do not tell anyone else, i’m serious. not even ollie.”

kimi whined at that, “but i tell ollie everything!”

“well not this. you saw how some of the people, including your teammate are with me and max, i do not want to give them any ammunition, okay?”

kimi hummed to himself, his brain whirring so loudly that even y/n could hear it over the music and the road. “speaking of those who WILL be without ammunition because i WILL keep my mouth zipped shut… how are we actually planning on tackling george this season?”

y/n was making the turn off of the motorway and towards brackley as she chuckled, “aside from physically tackling him at testing? i am joking, by the way. kimi, i don’t want you to worry about george anywhere but the track. he talks a big talk, but he’s very easy to frustrate when he’s not winning. don’t give him the rise he’ll want, okay?”

the tension rose in the car, it had all been fun and games up until this point, cocktails parties and car launches. but now it was getting real. y/n had the voice in the back of her head that worried that her off-track drama with the other drivers could impact kimi’s career.

“please stop worrying, y/n. i know what you’re thinking, but i am capable of handling it myself. i may only be eighteen but i’m not afraid of anyone.”

y/n pulled up outside of the mercedes factory and turned to kimi. she grabbed his hands, “promise me, kimi. promise me that if the drama with me gets too much, you will say something. i know it’s your dream to work with me, but make sure i do not interfere with your career.”

kimi scoffed, “them being afraid of you will never be your fault, you know-”

“it doesn’t matter if my fault or not, if their pettiness fucks with you, i won’t be able to forgive myself…”

just as they spoke, george pulled up beside them in his mercedes. the brit wasn’t alone in his car however. a brunette woman sat in the passenger seat, and much like george, her eyes narrowed at the sight of y/n.

“that’s carmen, george’s girlfriend. she doesn’t usually come to the factory with him?” kimi gasped, “maybe she’s here to stake her claim on george, as if you’d want him anyway…”

y/n laughed as kimi got out of the car. the italian grabbed his stuff from the boot and walked round to the window. y/n rolled it down and the two did their handshake.

“enjoy the prep, bunny, don’t make too much mess. see you in bahrain!”

the moment was cut short by someone clearing their throat. carmen had rolled down her window and was looking at kimi, less than impressed. the italian squeaked a quick goodbye and shuffled towards the entrance.

y/n tried not to make eye contact with carmen as she inputted the airport’s address into her gps. she was baffled by the news that george even had a girlfriend, not that she wanted kimi or the couple to know that. how long had they been together? did she know about y/n and about george’s weird feud with her? too many questions and not enough answers.

george and carmen made their way past y/n’s car and stopped just in front of the entrance, pointedly in y/n’s eye line. the two kissed, messily for people their age, and just to sum up her return so far, george kept eye contact with y/n the entire time, his hand wandering lower and lower on carmen.

2025 was the year of psychological warfare it seemed. y/n could work with that.

she sped out of the car park with new vigour. if psychological warfare was what george was ordering, y/n needed to know everything about everyone. she had stayed away from the drama surrounding formula one in her three years away from the sport, but it was time to go full gossip girl.

it’s crazy how much you can find in an hour in an airline bar about your former colleagues. y/n’s phone started ringing loudly, earning her some dirty looks in the lounge.

“maxy! did you know that george dated nyck’s sister?” y/n said, shovelling the free nuts in her mouth, “and that lando and pierre once liked the same girl in dubai?”

“why oh why are you telling me about this?” max said.

“because that prick wants psychological warfare, so i have to know everything!”

max hummed, not convinced. “am i like missing something?”

“i took kimi to brackley this morning and was treated to a lovely show from george and carmen. the weirdo kept eye contact with me the entire time! so if he wants to play it like that, i gotta know my enemies.”

“as weird as this all is, i’m glad to see you’re so into all of this, miss detective.”

y/n laughed, “i know i’m reading way too much about all of this, but i swear to god if he tries to fuck with kimi or you, i’ll play dirty if i have to. i mean i just don’t understand why he’s being such an asshole now about everything i supposedly did when he has a girlfriend - insecure much?”

max laughed down the line, they really were so much more alike than people would think. hearing her now, max wished she was back in the paddock for qatar and abu dhabi last year just to see what kind of revenge she could’ve thought up.

“anyway, maxy, are you still at the factory?”

“yeah, we’re just on a break, i’m outside getting some air and i didn’t know whether you were on the plane yet or not - you know you could’ve taken air max if you wanted to?”

y/n smiled, “i didn’t need your plane for a trip to monaco, silly! i’ll only be on the flight for a little while anyway and i’m only going because i’m having withdrawal symptoms from my babies!”

“why would you say this, now i want to see them!”

the boarding sign popped up, “ah! i gotta go maxy, i’ll text you when i’m back at yours - what time does the cat sitter go?”

“she will have left like an hour or so before you get back. stay safe, i -”

there was chatter in the background, “i gotta go, bye!”

max hung up quickly. y/n was left to her thoughts again and just how much life can change. this time three years ago she was making notes about the season coming, turns to watch and previous first lap incidents and now she’s compiling gossip on the grid’s personal lives? part of her wanted to be ashamed, but in the same vain, she knew that her adversaries hadn’t spared a moment for introspection.

max’s apartment in monaco was alight with the impatient meows from brando, sassy and jimmy. the cats yowled like they hadn’t been fed in days, although clarissa, the cat sitter, had sent max and y/n nearly hourly updates on them.

“oh my babies! momma missed you so much!” y/n said, abandoning her suitcase at the door and ushering the cats towards the couch. once she was sat, brando bullied his way onto her lap, his spot, and jimmy and sassy snuggled up beside her as closely as possible.

she pulled out her phone and snapped a quick picture of herself and the cats and sent it to max.

max: all my favourites in one place, you’re making listening to christian drone on even harder

y/n: you better keep listening, maxy, don’t want anyone else winning this season do you?

max: i do hate losing…

y/n smiled to herself, there was no lying to now, this place with the cats and max felt like home. the most at home y/n had felt for years.

“right, momma needs to shower and cook, babies!” brando did not look impressed but consoled himself by going back to grooming an equally unimpressed jimmy.

y/n rustled around max’s wardrobe trying to find a smaller towel for her hair. max wasn’t the most organised, especially with a wardrobe where he could just shut the door and forget the mess behind it. she finally got the towel loose, but with the last yank, a small book came flying out of the wardrobe.

the book was a small leather-bound book, clearly loved, bursting at the seams with use. y/n flicked open the book, scanning a couple of the pages. she could recognise the handwriting anywhere, was this max’s diary?

y/n flicked through a couple more of the pages before she landed on a page that boldly stated “fuck lando” in bold capitals. oh? the page was dated for a day in january 2020, just before she started her formula one career.

she knew this was a massive invasion of privacy, but max had never mentioned having a bust up with lando around that time - her curiosity had gotten the better of her.

i don’t know what lando’s problem is? i was on a discord call with him, george and alex this evening and he was in such a mood with me. it was all about y/n as usual with him, he’s being proper weird about her. of course we’ve already started training and discussing racing lines? we’re best friends. it’s almost like he knows i have feelings for her? but i know i haven’t been THAT obvious, at least not as bad as him and george. they think i don’t know, but they must think i’m dumb or blind (or both). he’s going to ruin his friendship with her if he’s not careful. i have loved y/n for as long as i can remember, but i don’t ever intend on making that her problem - why would she ever want to be with me? they assume because they’ve known her so long that they have this weird claim on her. i don’t know - i have a bad feeling about how this might all play out… i’ll just be there for y/n, she’s going to need it…

y/n slapped the book shut, feeling guilty about just how much she had read. max had liked her for that long? even when she was a jittery rookie with hormonal acne and way too much to say. and lando has always had this problem? there was never any chance of them being good teammates was there?

it feels like there’s a surprise around every corner since y/n reopened the pandora’s box that is formula one. how much was there left to reveal? to hurt her? can she handle what other secrets the sport has waiting for her?

but on the other side, if she had stayed in the shadows, y/n would’ve never known about max’s feelings and would never have the opportunity for what she feels right now.

y/n tucked the book back in the wardrobe and tried to wash the guilt off in the shower.

bahrain international circuit

testing was a boring affair for everyone that wasn’t in or working on the car. y/n was on her third coffee of the morning just out of pure boredom. kimi was in the car for the morning session and despite him paying her salary, toto did not seem like he’d make good conversation based on the frown on his face.

y/n saw sky making their way back down the pit lane and ducked back into the drivers’ rooms. because timing and fate loved y/n, george was leaving his just at the same moment.

it took a concerted effort not to roll her eyes as she forced out a quick good morning. george stopped in his tracks.

“good morning to you too?”

y/n gave him a nod and continued to kimi’s room, george grabbed her hand.

“are we going to have a problem the entire season? all of kimi’s career?”

“why would i have a problem, george? is there a reason i should have a problem?”

george huffed, “listen to me. we used to be so close… i wasn’t the one who crashed into you, why are you treating me like this?”

“george i’m not treating you like anything! 19 other drivers didn’t hear from me, you’re not special.”

y/n took a sip of her coffee, trying to school her heart rate, “you may have not crashed into me, but you hardly said much afterwards. you didn’t even come and visit me in the hospital? you didn’t post or say a single thing about me? you barely could bring yourself to say my name, so please spare me the lecture.”

george opened his mouth to respond but stopped, he tried to make eye contact with y/n but she avoided it.

“i didn’t think you wanted to see anyone to do with formula one! and you’re you! you hate dumb shit like instagram dedications and all that stuff…”

“you and your little partner in crime seem to be baffled about how max was the one who slipped through the cracks and stayed in my life. well read between the lines, idiot! his dedication to me is still pinned on his account, my number is on his helmet and he made the effort after the crash! you did nothing and you still expect me to coddle you?”

george tried to interject, “no! i think you’ve said enough already, george. you say all of this shit about how i led you on, but now you’re bringing up old drama when you’ve been in a relationship for years? so what’s the real reason? because so help me god, you fuck with kimi and i burn this whole place down.”

just behind george, y/n saw toto come into view. the austrian’s face told her that he had heard everything.

“well wasn’t that just great, thank you, you two. next time you have a domestic at track, please lower your voice, the entire garage now knows your business.”

“toto, i can assure you i will be nothing less than professional this season. winning with mercedes is my top priority, y/n will learn her place in this garage.”

even toto seemed taken aback by george’s words. y/n turned, her shoulder knocking george’s on the way past, “i think toto is well aware of who he hired and i know my place, just like kimi knows his… don’t crane your neck too much looking up at him on the podium.”

y/n shut the door to kimi’s driver room, and slid down to the floor. it was only the first day of testing and she’s exhausted. just outside the room she can hear george and toto still talking.

“i’m just saying i think it’s insane and honestly a little disrespectful that you hired her to begin with, toto.”

“i hired her because she was a talented driver and is willing to mentor kimi. i was not aware you two had a problem, and the fact that i’ve heard so much about it now without knowing what it actually is makes me think that the problem was in fact YOU. now calm down and get ready for your session.”

okay, maybe not all hope was lost. but y/n knew that this was just the start, the real racing had yet to begin and who knows how far george could take it, especially if the mercedes is competitive and especially if he finds out about her and max.

y/n popped open her laptop to keep track of kimi’s times on track but found herself struggling to keep her eyes open. by the time her impromptu nap had finished, kimi was making his way back into the garage, finishing the morning session. y/n made her way back into the garage to greet him as he made his way out of the car.

the session looked positive for the italian, but the pair were still anxious to see how george would perform, considering both were on the same program for the day. when kimi lifted his helmet, the two made eye contact, the italian’s eyes were so expressive that y/n could already hear the excited chatter.

“oh my god, y/n that was amazing! i know i’ve driven f1 cars before but knowing it’s actually mine for the season? wow!”

“well i’m glad you enjoyed it, let’s get some electrolytes in you before we sit down to analyse everything.”

the pair headed for the mercedes hospitality, with the other morning drivers doing the same throughout the paddock. during y/n’s nap she had missed the only real incident of the day, but a certain spaniard was about to make sure she knew.

“hey! antonelli!”

kimi’s head whipped around to see an angry carlos sainz charging towards him. the spaniard was clearly taking advantage of the lack of media outlets allowed at testing, getting in kimi’s face.

“you might be a rookie, but you’ll stay out of my way, got it? impede me like that again and we’ll see what happens!”

y/n pulled kimi behind her and jabbed her finger at carlos’ chest. “you self-important asshole, he didn’t impede you it’s testing. i know you’re at williams this season, so you’re going to have to invent a storyline for yourself, but trust me, this is not the one you want.”

“stay out of this y/ln, why don’t you stick to hopping into whoever’s winning’s bed, huh?”

y/n let out a sarcastic laugh, not caring about the small crowd forming around them. “your glory days, well whatever you call being stuck in charles’ shadow, playing politics with daddy to get given wins at ferrari only to be cast aside when you got a bit too big for your boots, are over. don’t be the bitter old bitch that makes rookies’ lives hell? oh wait, you’ve always been that way haven’t you?”

“you are a perpetual victim, y/n. that was years ago, get over it.”

“and yet you still act the exact same way. telling, really.”

carlos stayed quiet this time and y/n took that as the chance to guide kimi to hospitality. with their backs turned, “she won’t always be there for you, rookie! she can’t sleep with all of the stewards and she won’t be in the office to bat her eyelashes. so watch your back.”

y/n kept walking despite kimi tugging on her arm, wanting to retaliate. “stop. let him make a fool of himself.”

despite y/n trying to de-escalate the situation, max was less willing to do so. the dutchman had only heard a fraction but that was enough to rear the head of mad max.

“you think you’re so cute with this shit don’t you, sainz,” max said, looming over the spaniard, “you people never change, it’s pathetic.”

“the only thing that’s pathetic here is you, being her lap dog - and we’re meant to be scared of you? all we gotta do is flash an ankle or raise a hand and you’ll be eating out of our palm.”

max’s hands were shaking by his side and it took everything inside of him not to lunge at carlos. y/n’s grip on kimi tightened when jos was brought up, the crowd around them tensing as well.

“i don’t know what she does for you, but you surely can’t still be falling for it all these years later. i remember at toro rosso when you’d wake up the whole camp screaming in your motorhome and you’d call her crying. a four-time world champion and you still go crawling back to her.”

“she’s worth more than you could ever wish to be. i don’t know what propaganda your dad or lando has been feeding you, but you’re a grown man, you’re too old to be falling for it. now leave her and kimi alone. i’d threaten you, but it’s unlikely that williams will be anywhere near me this season.”

max gave one last look to y/n before running back towards the red bull garage. the crowd that had formed chattered amongst themselves and started to disperse. carlos looked enraged but backed off, not without one final glare towards the italian.

“i didn’t know formula one was just this dramatic,” kimi said, “i need to work on my insults!”

y/n laughed, but a voice from behind her stopped her dead in her tracks.

“always the centre of drama, aren’t you y/n? always looking for trouble.”

zak brown.

fin.

note: wow this took me so long to write and i kinda hate it! i am in such a rut rn idk what to do ? but i hope you guys enjoyed it anyway!

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[puck-luck]

patchwork hearts | nico hischier

warnings: unprotected p in v, chatgpt-level swiss german (since google translate doesn’t have swiss german. only regular german. f u google translate), angst i guess (argument), make-up sex, pretty vanilla all in all, oral f!receiving, fingering.

pairing: nico hischier x fem!reader

request: Reader and Nico get into a fight before we leaves for away from away games in the west coast and they make up when he comes back (or while he is away). Request by @hockeygirl1328. thanks queen! sorry it took so long!!

wc: 3,345

The memory of the argument flashes through your mind when Nico’s face appears on your screen. It’s the cuddliest photo you’ve ever taken of him, scruff in full form and hair messy, but that still doesn’t improve your mood. Just before he left for this road trip, you’d gotten into a massive fight about his constant travel. You love Nico, so much, but he’s always gone. It’s your first season together and the adjustment from Summer Nico to Season Nico has been really difficult.

Maybe you were being selfish, but you didn’t want to miss Nico for another week. He comes home for a few days, then leaves for a few more. The cycle repeats over and over again and there’s not enough time for you and Nico to establish a routine. There’s not enough time for you to even see Nico some days, which is just disheartening. Your boyfriend is basically a half-version of himself and, most of the time, it feels like his only priority in life is hockey. You don’t even rank.

Nico’s words had hurt, even though you know in your heart that he was right. It was just excessive, the way he’d dug his claws into you with only a few words. 

As the phone rings out, you hear the echo of what he said. “You knew what this life was when we got together. I don’t have time for a constant guilt trip every time I leave!”

“I didn’t sign up to be an afterthought,” you’d fought back.

“Not everything is about you, you know,” Nico snapped. “The world doesn’t revolve around you– my world doesn’t revolve around you.”

His eyes had grown immediately wide and his jaw had dropped, like he couldn’t believe he just said that. You couldn’t believe he’d said that. The argument ended immediately– only because there was nothing you could muster up in reply. 

You hadn’t broken up with Nico for the mere statement, although you’ll admit that it crossed your mind. Instead, you’d sat in place as Nico’s many apologies fell on deaf ears. You felt almost catatonic as he’d kenlt down in front of you and tried to gauge your reaction, touching your knee with a gentle nudge. He’d wiped away the tears that leaked from your eyes, even though you’d tried to turn away from his touch. 

You’d slept over that night because you hadn’t felt you were able to move. The shock kept you in place. Nico had tucked you into his bed and relegated himself to the couch. When you woke up and you’d finally felt able to move, ready to face the boy, he was gone. There was a note on the door and a message left on your phone, both of which said roughly the same thing: that Nico was sorry he had to go, but he couldn’t stay. You knew why, of course. It was time for his California roadie. As much as you felt like an afterthought at times, you aren’t unreasonable. You know that he has to travel for his job. 

You’re still hurt, to be fair. No matter how many times Nico apologized after dropping that bomb, it continues to cut at you and pop up in your mind whenever he calls. You’ve answered twice over the duration of the roadie, but the conversations had felt stilted and forced. After the last call, just over a day ago, Nico had asked if he could come over to your apartment and see you when he got back. 

You think that he was calling a moment ago because he made it back to the Prudential Center and would be driving to your place soon. Your palms are a bit sweaty knowing that Nico is on the way. You don’t want to fight with him again and you have a feeling that he doesn’t want to fight either, but you know it’s not resolved.

You take the time before Nico arrives to calm yourself. You get a glass of water, you grab a handful of your favorite snack, and you sit on the couch to watch a bit of TV.

He calls again a few minutes later. This time, you answer.

“Hi, Nico,” you greet, voice quiet.

“Hi, I’m downstairs,” Nico says. “Just wanted to let you know I’m here before I come up.”

“Okay, Nee. I’ll see you soon.” You pull the phone away fom your ear and end the call, standing up to unlock your front door. You return to the couch and when he knocks, you call out to tell him that it’s open.

Nico comes through the door and toes off his shoes. “How was your day?” Nico asks, coming over to the couch to join you. 

“Not bad. I went to work and the gym and then I came home,” you reply. You attempt a smile at Nico when he sits on the couch and circles his fingers around your ankle, rubbing his thumb against your skin. “How was California?”

“I missed you,” Nico says. “It was hard to focus on the games when I was thinking about you. I’m sorry I left after the fight. I wish I hadn’t needed to go. I wanted to stay and make things better.”

The breath leaves your chest in a deep sigh. “It was unfortunate timing.”

“I know,” Nico agrees, nodding. “It gave me a little time to think about what to say to you, which is nice. I know I can’t really make up for what happened last week, but–” Nico takes your hand and grasps it. “I’m sorry I said you weren’t a priority for me. You are. You’re a huge part of my life and I wouldn’t be anywhere without you, supporting me and cheering me on and being there for me every day. I’m sorry I wasn’t more considerate of your feelings.”

You almost want to cry again after hearing him spout this heartfelt apology. Nico sits in front of you and waits, blinking patiently and chewing on his lower lip while you take in his words. The lines under his eyes are deep and you can tell that he lost sleep over something this past week, likely this incident if his words have any truth to them. You nod and reach forward, cradling Nico’s face in your hands. “I’m sorry for not giving you the benefit of the doubt,” you tell Nico. “I know you can’t help that hockey is such a big part of your life. I know you don’t mean to put me on the backburner. I just felt a little neglected and I’m sorry that I accused you of making me an afterthought.”

“You shouldn’t have to apologize because of how you feel,” Nico says. He slides his arm down to your waist. “I was caught up in everything else in my life and didn’t give you the attention you deserve. I never want to make you feel that way again.”

“You won’t,” you say. “I know you won’t.” You lean in and press a chaste kiss to Nico’s lips. After kissing him, you shuffle forward and tuck yourself against his chest. 

Nico pulls you onto his lap and cradles you there, kissing the top and side of your head. He touches as much of your body as he can, rubbing your back and your arms, your waist and your thighs. You breathe together, leaning against each other, and taking in the presence of the other person.

“Please let me show you how much I love you,” Nico requests after a few minutes, caressing your sides and looking at you with his big, brown eyes. “And how sorry I am for acting like I don’t care. I care, babe, I care so much.” He drops a kiss on your forehead, then your cheek. “Please.”

You don’t reply, but you turn your head and find his lips. You touch the scuff on Nico’s face, which he seems to have shaved over his roadie, but it’s starting to grow back. His hair is at risk of being deemed “too long” in his own opinion, so you touch the strands reverently, knowing that they’ll be gone sooner than later. 

“Let me take care of you,” Nico murmurs, dipping down to brush a kiss over your jawline. 

“Okay,” you whisper back, touching the side of Nico’s neck and the curve of his bicep. 

He fits his strong palms under your thighs, lifting you. You wrap your legs around his waist and do your best to distract Nico on his walk to the bedroom. You might still be a little sad about what Nico said a week ago, but the apology worked well enough that you’re trying to let it go. 

Nico lays you on the bed, kissing down your body and undressing you as he goes. His touch is loving, almost overwhelmingly so. He removes his shirt and settles between your legs, kissing from your calf to the inside of your knee, up your thigh and all the way to your hip bone. 

The only sound that fills the room is the shared sigh of relief when Nico connects with your core. As his tongue flattens and licks a stripe up your slit, Nico’s eyes flutter shut and his hands fix on your hips to pull you closer. 

Ninety percent of the time, Nico gets ravenous when he’s eating you out. Today is different. 

His tongue trails through your folds. The tip of the muscle traces every inch of your cunt before he even considers pressing closer. Nico takes his time– he savors the taste of your slick. “Mm, liebste,” Nico groans. “You taste so good.” 

He works his tongue against your cunt, licking around the rim of your entrance before flicking further inside. One of his hands comes to your front, thumb contacting your clit and rubbing soothing circles over it. His other hand travels underneath your body and you let out a startled gasp when his fingers dig into the flesh of your ass, dragging you even closer.

He’s systematic and precise, kitten licking at your insides. He focuses on one part of your body, then another– in this case, he goes from your hole to wrapping his all-consuming lips around your clit and suckling. 

His index finger finds your entrance and soothes the smooth ring, drawing circles over the outline of your most intimate area before you lift your hips into his touch. You’re silently asking for more and Nico understands that, gently pushing his finger inside. Just like with his mouthwork, he’s slow and attentive. 

The pad of Nico’s fingertip feels out your inner walls, welcoming the hug of your cunt around his digit eagerly and repaying you by trying to find that spot inside of you, the one that always makes you see stars. 

His hair has started to fall messily over his forehead, brushing his eyebrows. You find the strands with your hands, clutching at them and moving his head where you need it to be– for all intents and purposes, you keep him mostly aligned with your clit, but the movement of his head provides a friction that pure suction could not offer.

As you do this, his middle finger pokes at your entrance. The first knuckle disappears inside you with little resistance, then Nico starts to work on opening you up. His fingers scissor inside of you, spearing against the gummy ridges of your muscle, preparing you for his cock. 

You clench down a bit at the thought of his member, pleas for the length on the tip of your tongue. You know Nico is thinking about fucking you too, just based on the way he rolls his hips against the mattress and hums. 

He releases your clit from between his lips, which draws a whine of protest from you. Nico chuckles quietly and turns his head, planting a kiss on your inner thigh. Then, he dips his head and twists his wrist so that his palm faces upward. Nico licks between his two fingers, his eyelids open just enough that you can see how he looks up at you and takes you in. 

Nico draws away from your pussy only to ask, “Chunsch du, schatz?” 

He’s teasing you, plucking at an inside joke from when you felt you were brave enough to try to learn Swiss German. Thinking it would be sweet, you’d tried your hand at talking Nico’s native tongue in bed, but your words had just seemed too formal. Still, it’s something you can laugh over. Nico loves to parrot your effort at “Are you coming?” back at you, always smiling fondly when he does.

He’s worked his tongue back between his fingers, looking up at you with raised eyebrows. He waits for you to answer his question, sure to bump his nose against your clit when you open your mouth, so that you produce a moan instead of a sentence. Nico giggles at his little joke, cheeks dimpling and eyes crinkling. He brings his mouth to your clit and kisses over the bud, steadily pumping his fingers to really bring you to orgasm.

You whimper when he works a third thick finger into your entrance, stuffing you full. You know it’s necessary since his cock is also thick, but there’s a dull ache at the first stretch that has you writhing on the bed. 

“I know, I know,” Nico soothes, lathing kiss after kiss to your sensitive center. “But I have to get you all open for me, baby. So you feel good later, hm?” He bends his knuckles and comes into contact with your sweet spot, the rush of pleasure making your back arch involuntarily. Nico notices this and grins, eyes determined and set on continuing this feeling for you.

Your noises grow more slurred with each touch of his fingertips to your walls, especially when he flicks his tongue rapidly over your clit. He’s still teasing you, dangling the climax just out of reach with the way he’ll overwhelm your clit with his tongue and then slow down, licking flat stripes along the parts of your slit that he can reach. 

“Nico,” you lament with a frown when he pulls away again, just as you were about to come.

“Sorry,” Nico apologizes with a crinkle-eyed smile. He captures your clit and keeps his mouth there, beckoning his fingers and creating a vacuum around the bundle of nerves at the apex of your vagina. This time, he doesn’t let up– he goes and goes and goes until your hands have found their way back to his hair and pull so hard that there’s a stinging sensation along Nico’s scalp.

He allows his eyes to drift shut again, free hand dancing up your body until he finds your tits, finally giving them the attention that he feels they deserve. With a few harsh gropes, a pinch or two to your nipple, and even a tug at your chest, you’re unraveling over Nico’s digits and making your situation very well known to your neighbors.

“Bravo, süsse,” Nico praises over the heaving of your chest. He stays in contact with your center, but slows his movements to something that keeps you teetering on the precipice of pleasure rather than in the throws of it. “Do you think you’re ready for my cock?”

“Yes,” you rasp out, reaching for Nico and catching him by his biceps. You coax him forward, palms sliding up to his jawline. You lick over the seam of Nico’s lips and taste yourself already, the flavor of your cum only growing stronger when Nico parts his lips and slides his tongue against yours. “Fuck me, Nico.”

“Mm, hase, I’m not going to fuck you,” Nico corrects. “I’m going to take care of you. And you’re going to take care of me.”

While you were ready to protest the first part of his statement, your mouth quickly snaps shut when he finishes speaking. You lay back against the pillows, propping your head up, and you bring Nico with you. His body blankets yours, shifting atop you as he tries to remove his bottoms with one hand. His other roams on your torso, stroking the curves of your sides and stomach.

“So schön,” Nico murmurs.

“So beautiful,” you repeat, thumbing over his cheekbone. 

Nico reaches between your bodies and lines himself up with your entrance. Just like before, he moves slowly. He moves with purpose. You can feel every inch of Nico’s length as it sinks into you. 

When you roll your head back to let out a soft moan, Nico seizes the opportunity to paint a series of open-mouthed kisses on your neck. “I love you so much,” he mumbles against your skin. He rolls his hips, filling you further. “So much.”

“I love you too,” you reply, hands scrambling for purchase on the expanse of his back when Nico’s tip brushes against the cartilaginous wall of your cervix. He knocks against that wall again on his next thrust forward, only drawing out about halfway before snapping forward suddenly. 

Regardless of how he fills you, his movements are still tinged with reverence and tenderness. Nico holds you like something that will break under the pressure of his fingertips, but he’s still desperate to keep you close. He’ll let his hips fall flush with yours and remain there sometimes, then other times he’ll roll and snap his hips like your lives depend on it. 

You know that there was once an argument between you, but all that matters is the fact that Nico is here and he’s doing exactly what he promised he’d do: take care of you.

His hand finds your arm, then trails up to your wrist. He presses your wrist into the cushion above your head, but doesn’t stop there. He brings his fingers up to your palm, tracing over the lines that represent your love and your life. He slots his fingers between yours and intertwines your fingers, holding your hand tight as he continues to thrust into you. He repeats the same process on the other side, until both of your hands are wrapped in his. He pins you to the bed, but you feel only safe and secure, not trapped in the slightest. 

“You’re so tight around me, baby,” Nico says, ending his statement with a kiss. His voice is low and rough, breathless and nearly spent due to the tango you’re performing now. “Gonna fill you up, fill you ‘til all of my love is dripping out of you.”

You were already overwhelmed, but when he said that– and then nibbled your bottom lip after– you feel a dam break inside of you. You come suddenly and without warning, jaw dropping. A high keen falls from your mouth, only to be met with a coo from Nico and a deep grunt as he continues to fuck into your even tighter entrance. 

The squeeze of your cunt around Nico’s cock is enough to make him come too, the white spurts of cum filling your hole just like he’d promised. You can feel Nico trembling a bit from the aftershocks, your chest meeting his as you arch up into his touch and he deflates from exhaustion. He covers you just like a warm comforter and kisses you lazily, both of you wanting to stay connected after such an intense reunion.

You feel satiated, calm and happy that Nico came to you when he returned instead of going home and basking in the misery of the argument from a week prior. You certainly feel better now, after having gone through the throes of that low point in your relationship.

“Mm,” Nico hums, like he remembered something suddenly. His head tilts and he kisses along the crook of your neck. “During the break in February, I thought you’d like to come home with me. We can have a little couples vacation at home, just you and me. How does that sound?”

“Amazing, Nico,” you tell him, smoothing his hair beneath your fingertips. “That sounds amazing.”

note: read a stoner!nico fic recently that Cece reblogged and I tweaked. thinking of y'all! i think you'll see nico a lot sooner on this blog than you expect... perhaps a little "nico x ____ x reader".....

[teenidlegirl]

⠀⠀౨౿  ׅ ۟   ֪ 𝓑eauty 𝓞f 𝓣his 𝓜ess⠀♡⠀𝓒hapter 𝓔ighteen ۪ ׂ   𓈒 ୭

꒰⠀⠀⟡⠀.⠀military!miguel⠀𝓍⠀fem!neighbor!reader⠀.⠀⟡⠀⠀꒱

⠀ ᰦ 󠄀 ྀ .⠀♥︎⠀summary.⠀you and miguel finally have your big conversation. he finally gets the chance to explain himself, you learn a heartbreaking truth, and figure out where to go next.

⠀ ᰦ 󠄀 ྀ .⠀♥︎⠀content.⠀fluff, angst, pregnancy, background stories, past character death, past violence, flashbacks, mentions of blood, trauma, emotional distress, sorta hurt/comfort

❛⠀ previous chapter⠀⋅⠀masterlist⠀⋅⠀next chapter ⠀❜

the smell of pancakes awakes you, filling up your senses. slowly opening your eyes, your remember everything from yesterday. after the stupid fight between joel and miguel, you took miguel back home to patch him up and demanded that he should stay the night. he obeyed like a puppy, no matter how many times he rejected the offer. you also realize this is the first time miguel has been in your home in two months. the last time he was here, miguel walked out and disappeared for three weeks. now, he’s back and making breakfast in your kitchen.

you snap out of thought when a white fluff ball walks towards your face. the sight makes you smile as luna greets you with happy licks and a wagging tail. after saying good morning to your dog, you get up from bed and put on a cardigan over your nightgown to shield you from the chilly morning air. sipping on your fuzzy slippers and scooping luna in your arms, you head to the kitchen and find miguel cooking. his broad back faced to you. that navy blue compression shirt hugs his muscles so perfectly. the way his back muscles ripple as he maneuvers around the kitchen.

goddamn that is a sight you miss so much. to see him again, in the flesh, especially in your home. just a cute domestic scene of the man you still love. you really miss miguel so much it hurts.

but the pain that he inflicted on you hurts still. although you’re happy to see him and have him in here after a long time, that doesn’t erase the heartbreak miguel left behind when he left you alone to deal with a life-changing situation for three weeks. those were the shittiest three weeks of your life. three weeks of crying. three weeks of pain. miguel caused that, the very same man cooking breakfast in your kitchen at this moment. now that he’s here, you have to know where the fuck he was during those three weeks. it’s the question that never left your mind.

as he serves a plate meant for you, miguel turns around not expected to see you there standing at the opposite side of the kitchen island. “oh buenas dias, amor. i was gonna take this to you so you wouldn’t have to get out of bed.” he offers a sheepish grin.

there goes your heart fluttering because of his kindness, against your opposing thoughts. “the smell of pancakes woke me up, i had to get out of bed.”

your joke makes him chuckle lightly. “you still should get back in bed, i’ll bring this to you.”

“no, it’s okay. i need to wash my sheets anyways. now gimme those pancakes, pretty please.” you hop on one of the barstools with much glee.

miguel couldn’t resist the cute smile of yours, a sight that he misses so dearly.

you enjoy your pancakes while miguel cleans up the kitchen. damn, those pancakes are delicious. you forgot how much you miss his cooking. you remember how great of a cook he is but damn do you miss eating the food he made. resurfaced memories of the mornings and evenings miguel would cook, either at your place or his, when you were dating. chitchatting and sometimes goofing around while cooking delicious meals. his food always hit the spot, even simple as pancakes.

moving on to a much more serious topic, you wanted to know of his condition and if anything improved overnight. the memories of those awful bruises still makes your heart squeeze painfully.

“how are you feeling?”

“a bit better but some places still hurts like shit but i’ll be fine. that asshole didn’t do that much damage.” he rubs the back of his neck with a hand.

“still, he hurt you enough.”

miguel notices the concern laced in your tone, his heart swells. “i’ll be okay, mi amor. i promise.” he leans a bit over the island to find your eyes, reassuring you that he will be fine.

your concerned eyes meet his serious yet reassuring eyes. you know he will be fine but you can’t not be still concerned about his health. no matter the circumstances, your heart still beats and aches for him. you simply offer a small smile then continue focusing on your breakfast.

miguel lets you eat in peace as he cleans up the kitchen, washing and putting away dishes. once he finished, he can’t help but silently admire you. your disheveled hair, slightly droopy eyes, and sleepy face. every detail of you is so precious. the gorgeous warm hue of the morning sun makes your figure glow beautifully, as if an angel sits across from him.

you are an angel, his angel.

god he missed you so much. to wake up and see you there in the same place as him. to have you there in general, you gracing him with your angelic presence. miguel misses waking up to find you beside him in bed. the softness of you against his roughness. your warmth smoothing him as he awakens, the only source preventing his nightmares. sharing these cute small moments with you while cooking, eating, cleaning, shopping, walking, just anything.

the longer he admires you in silence, realization creeps up to him. you two agreed to reserve the big conversation today after a good long rest from yesterday’s shitshow. suddenly, anxiety invades his body. miguel is nervous as hell to address the elephant in the room, mainly due to your reaction and fear that his reasons won’t be justifiable. he imprinted a large scar on you that will forever be there, it will never heal, not for a long time.

but this will only be his chance to explain himself. miguel can’t lose that opportunity, not when it can lead to a possible future with you and the baby. however, this cute quiet moment between you two right now does not mean things are back to normal. it does not mean it will be like that after the conversation. it will be your decision whether to forgive him or accept his reasons and determine the outcome. it will be your final word.

you also are nervous as hell. a much needed conversation yet you are afraid to discuss it. mainly because of what will be the outcome and future of your relationship. you desperately need to know his reasons. despite the quiet moment right now, the anger and resentment still lingers, bubbling inside you. the pain he left you remains in your fragile heart. the same heart beating with intense anxiety.

it’s the calm before the storm.

you finish your breakfast, which was absolutely delicious, and about to get up from your seat to out away the now dirty plate until a calloused hand stops you by gently taking the plate from your hands.

“hey, i got it.” you pout.

his heart flutters at that pout. goddamnit you’re so adorable. “i got it, preciosa. you stay there.”

“but i just wanted to—”

“no buts, i’ll do everything.” he cuts you off softly with a smile that makes your heart leap once again.

you know this is his attempt of making things up to you. it’s a small start yet it doesn’t change anything or erase the pain. miguel knows it as well.

“we need uh… we need to talk about… y’know?”

a heavy sigh escapes his lips. “we do… uh… let’s head to the couch to be more comfortable, ¿si?”

you nod, hop off the bar stool, and head to the couch. you sit on one end and miguel on the other, some distance between you two. luna comes up to snuggle with you on your lap. anxiety invades both your bodies. now it’s time to discuss this situation, learn the truth, and find a solution, or not. but nevertheless, you were ready to know the truth.

miguel is the more nervous reck, practically sweating his ass off due the anxiety invading his veins like a virus. this is his one and only opportunity.

“i regret what i did… it was a mistake i’ll regret for the rest of my life because leaving you was the stupidest mistake of my life.” his sad eyes meet yours. “i promised to never hurt you pero… i did the one thing i swore to never do… and i hate myself for it.” he adverts his gaze, feeling undeserving often look at you because of the shame and guilt.

you can only offer a pitiful glance. ever since he returned, you have noticed the self-loathing consuming him whole. the guilty and shameful glint in his eyes every time they meet yours.

“i deserve all of your anger and frustration. i hurt you and saying sorry won’t fix anything, it won’t take away the pain i caused you.” a heavy sigh left his lips as he bring up a hand and rubs the temples of his forehead. “i-i was scared… i was afraid that i—”

your brows furrowed in a mixture of confusion and concern. what was miguel afraid of?

another heavy sigh. “when you said you were pregnant, i panicked… i just… i just couldn’t believe it. i couldn’t believe i would be a father, that i would have a baby… i never considered it before and… i was so… scared.” he lowers his hand but never looks back up to face you, instead down at his lap, too afraid to meet your eyes. “i was scared of becoming a father and having a baby because… i would fail you both…”

your frown deepens. “fail us? miguel, what do you mean?” how could he fail you and the baby? it doesn’t make sense. now you’re more concerned.

he had to reveal the truth.

“gabriel… you know that him and i joined together?”

miguel didn’t need to look at you to see you nod, just from his peripheral. he feels his heart aching, proving how hard it was to talk about his brother because the pain and guilt are still strong. you can see him struggling. the way he’s hunched over as if he’s in pain. eyes screwed shut, brows furrowed deeply, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, knees bouncing. you just want to scoot over and hug him. you almost do but he then continues.

“one mission… it was more intense than others.” he starts off quietly. “it all went wrong unfortunately, we were outnumbered, things went downhill so fast and…” a sob that was threatening to escape was bitten back down his throat as flashbacks of that mission infiltrates his mind. the closer he was to the memory, the harder it was hold back the tears.

flashback of the bullet striking through gabriel’s shoulder, hitting an artery. miguel’s heart stops as his brother collapses onto the ground while the rest of the team fight off the enemy. panic invades his veins as he rushed to his wounded brother, collecting him in his arms and seeking shelter behind a wall, ignoring the pleads of his squad.

“s-shit…” gabriel groans in pain. “definitely hit the spot.” a weak chuckle escapes his lips.

“you’re okay… you’re okay. you’re gonna be okay, hermano.” its also as if miguel is telling himself that, allowing the panic to consume him.

the younger o'hara shakes his head slighty, a weak smile on his lips that are slowly dripping in red. “i-i don’t think t-this time, pendejo…”

“no, no, no. you’re gonna be okay, gabri. ¿me oyes? you’re gonna be fine.”

but the red ooze dripping from gabriel’s lips and the color draining from his skin said otherwise. he was losing him, he was losing his baby brother.

“d-don’t worry a-about me…” a cough of blood makes miguel’s heart ache immensely. “i-i finally g-got to be who i-i wanted to b-be… e-especially contigo, hermano…”

tears swell in his eyes as miguel watched his brother take one final breath and heart beats one last time. a scream of agony erupts from his throat as he clings onto his brother and break into tears.

“miguel?…”

the angelic tone of your voice snaps him out of that horrific memory and looks to see your hand rested on his arm then up to meet your eyes. his own swelled with tears. miguel didn’t realized how close you are, now sitting right beside him.

seeing those gorgeous brown eyes swelled with tears breaks your heart. he was so lost in thought to the point of panicking. you didn’t hesitate to move over and comfort him, you were so worried. you just wanted to pull him into your arms and hug him. miguel shuts his eyes and turns away from you, concealing the tears and guilt.

“gabriel died in combat.”

your heart drops at the heartbreaking revelation.

gabriel died?… now it all makes sense why he was so hesitant to talk about his brother.

he lost him.

miguel fought hard against the tears but no avail, he allowed the dam to break. you don’t hesitate to wrap your arms around him and pull him into a tight embrace, which he accepts immediately. collapsing into your arms, holding you tightly, gripping onto the material of your cardigan as if he’s afraid to let you go, that you would slip out of his arms just like gabriel, as he sobs into your shoulder.

each sob of his breaks a piece of your heart, to the point of your own eyes swelling into tears. it hurts you to hear him break down but you are there to catch him. you embrace his sobbing, shaking figure tightly. digging your fingers into his hair, his grip on your tightens as a response. you don’t ever let go.

“lo siento mucho, miguel…” your soft voice whispers in his ear, making him embrace you tighter.

you feel utterly heartbroken for him. he lost his baby brother in combat, that is traumatic. by what miguel has told you, he and gabriel had a great sibling relationship. he was always by gabriel side for everything. miguel deeply cared about his baby brother. the one person who understood him.

eventually, miguel’s sobs die down and manages to catch his breath after releasing an infinite amount of tears. that left a large wet stain on your cardigan but you don’t care, miguel was all that mattered.

very slowly, his head rises from your now soaked shoulder and leans back to give you some space but still remains close. you look at him but his glossy eyes don’t meet yours. with such tenderness, you wipe his tears with your thumb as you cradle his face. miguel still doesn’t look back but gently rests his forehead against yours and closes his eyes. you simply sit there in silence, basking one another’s presence as miguel takes time to calm down.

after a few minutes of silence, you decide to break it by whispering to him. “you okay?…”

miguel nods slowly and exhales heavily, leaning into your touch as you continue caressing his face. he had to catch his breath to calm down but really you were what calmed him down. utterly melting under your touch, the softness and warmth of your body relaxes him immediately. you are his anchor.

“i was sacred…” barely a whisper yet laced with such remorse and regret. “i was scared of losing you and the baby like i lost gabriel.”

you look up at him with furrowed brows of concern but he still hasn’t meet your eyes.

“losing us? you won’t lose us, amor.” you reassure him in a gentle manner, caressing his cheeks as a way to make him look at you but no avail.

miguel leans away and finally looks back, frowning however. “i failed gabriel, what if i fail you? i failed to protect him, what if i fail to protect you both?”

you shake your head frantically. “you won’t, miguel. what happened to gabriel wasn’t your fault—”

“yes it was.” he cuts you off, turning away but you stop him by gently gripping his chin to look back.

“no, it was not.” a bit firm but still soft. “i know you blame yourself but it wasn’t your fault. just know that gabriel was happy to be with his brother, he wouldn’t want to be anywhere or anyone else but you.”

those glossy brown eyes soften a little by your words. perhaps you’re right, gabriel was at least safe in his arms during his last moments. at least miguel was there with him. it would have been worse if it was any other scenario and miguel didn’t want to think that.

“miguel, escúchame…” those same soft brown eyes look up at you as you cradle his face. “i know you’re afraid and now i understand why… but i promise you won’t lose us, you won’t fail us. we won’t go anywhere, we’ll always be here, with you.”

miguel swears he could cry once again. all he can do is just stare at you with nothing but adoration in his eyes. heart sudden refilled with love that you always provide. those ugly doubts and fears slowly fade away by your words of comfort and reassurance. he rests his hands on top of yours, gives them a gentle squeeze then brings them up to his lips and places a soft kiss to them as a sign of affection and gratitude. the act emits a soft smile on your face.

“i know we just had a heartbreaking conversation but… i still need to know what happened those three weeks.” you look at him hesitantly.

miguel knows you’re right. he admitted his fears and reasons but still hasn’t fully explained himself, especially during those shitty three weeks.

“i know…” his hands release yours as he leans away, turning away to run a hand through his hair with a heavy sigh. “i… i have this hidden cabin off the outskirts of town, that’s where i stayed during those weeks. i didn’t do anything. i barely ate or slept, always had nightmares every time.”

your brows furrowed concerningly. “nightmares?”

another heavy sigh escapes his lips. “of you and the baby… me dying in combat and leaving you alone with the baby… failing you both…”

another revelation that shatters your heart. his trauma has worsened to the extent of having nightmares of dying and losing his family.

this poor, poor man.

“my phone was completely off, i never received any calls or texts. when i did turned it back on, i saw your text about your doctors appointment and i cried…”

your eyes widen slightly in surprise. he… cried?

“you went alone… i wasn’t there for you… i hatred myself for that, i still do.”

the unpleasant memory of your first appointment flashed across your mind. how utterly heartbroken and abounded you felt sitting in the waiting area full of couples. how anxious you felt when you entered the examination room, learning about your pregnancy, and seeing your baby for the first time. how angry you felt when you mentioned to your OB that miguel wasn’t in the picture.

one last sigh from his lips before miguel turns to you with pleading eyes. “mi alma, i know what i did is unforgivable and i’ll forever regret it for the rest of my fucking life. no amount of sorrys could ever take away the pain i caused you. i hurt you and i will never forgive myself. you have every reason to hate me, i deserve it all.” very slowly, his hand gently takes yours. “but know that i love you, i never stopped loving you and never will. eres mi mundo, mi corazón, mi alma gemela, todo.”

it was impossible to not feel bashful by all the adorable endearments. every nickname miguel gave you, it never fails to make your heart flutter.

“i know i can’t go back change the past, i know i can’t take away your pain from those three weeks but i promise you that i want to be part of this.” miguel said sincerely, eyes boring into yours. “i want to have this baby with you, i want to be a father, i want to be a family and raise this baby contigo.”

sudden a rush of adoration flows through you, almost overwhelming but… in a good way? his behavior since last night proved how different he was, he’s still the same kind man you fell in love with and how he wasn’t against having the baby. the way his eyes widen then soften and smiled when he touched your baby bump for the first time proved to you that miguel already loved the baby. you want nothing more than for him to be a part of this family and have this baby together. but that doesn’t mean the consequences of his actions are ignored.

“i… i’m so happy to hear that, miguel, and i want nothing more than to do this together but…” your tone turns more serious. “i can’t forgive you, not yet.”

miguel expected that and he did not blame you one bit because he doesn’t deserve your forgiveness.

“you hurt me, miguel. i know it was bomb dropping news, it was a shitshow, i take part for being irresponsible about the pill, and that it triggered your fears but you hurt me real fucking bad.”

he did and miguel will never forgive himself.

“those were the shittiest three weeks of my life. you weren’t there when i needed you the most.”

he can hear the hurt in your voice and it pains his heart. he has caused so much damage.

“now that you’re here, i’m gonna tell you this.”

miguel’s attention is precise and solely on you, prepared for what you will say.

you look up straight in his eyes with pure sincerity. “if you want to be a part of this, you have to work for it. show me that you want this.”

miguel understands completely. prove his commitment to this family, to you and the baby. and goddamn he will, miguel will do everything he can to prove to you that he wants this.

“i will, i promise, mi amor.” his hands give yours a gentle squeeze, signifying his words.

you believe him.

this is the beginning of rebuilding your relationship. it will require lots of progress but you have faith miguel will prove himself and the love will soon be restored.

it’s a good starting point.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ♡ @reverieblondie @nina-from-317 @kavimoo @aly29a2001 @lazyjellyfish300 @tojishugetiddies @aphinthestars @novelaaaaaaaa @imamexican @obessgurlll @deputy-videogamer @lovehadlovelost @agoddoesnotplead @saintdiior @whoopwhoppghost @tomalymme @skadiloki @asterrrrose @glossygreene @youcantseem3 @resident-clown @kutsipie @zuevcs @totorotales-08 @meowgirl1 @sukunash0e @sirendyes @leahnicole1219 @lisa-takeshi @yehet-moi-ohorat @slowlyshycomputer @wasitforrevenge @webshoootrz @f1-hoff @chaeriescola @espressopatronum454 @trocaderoisyummy @totallygyomeiswife @mcmiracles @celestialgarden23 @tatatida @whdhjfjvjvjfjdhsj @nocturne-light @xenop0p @juneonhoth @ghostsdoll @marshmallowsforever @ibelyss @imissubaee ( if you’re not tagged, age/age-range is require since this fic is 18+, context for reasons why )

© teenidlegirl. don’t steal, plagiarize, or translate my work. ♡

[cornliastreett]

BED CHEM ⎯⎯ chapter two

drew starkey x singer!reader

NAVIGATION !

BED CHEM MASTERLIST !

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

001. NOTE

thank you so much for all the love on this fic so far! i didn’t think that many people would be reading this on here. so thank you!

IT WAS ANOTHER WEEKEND IN LOS ANGELES, WHICH MEANT ANOTHER EVENT FILLED WITH CELEBRITIES AND INFLUENCERS. You didn't even know what the event was for anymore, you had met so many people that night, shaken so many hands and repeated your name so many times that it had slipped your mind what you were actually there for. It had also slipped your mind that Madelyn had messaged you that morning to tell you she was attending the same event. So you hadn't remembered to look for Madelyn. You also hadn't had the time to, even if you had remembered.

But Madelyn had remembered. She had been looking for you the minute she stepped foot on the carpet that night. Even when she had bumped into Drew that night, she was still looking for you. But Madelyn didn't want Drew to know she had been looking for you the entire time the two had been talking. So she tried to act as though she wasn't even sure if you were there. "I think Y/N/N is here tonight, I should text her." Madelyn had said, slipping her phone out of her bag. Not even sure if you would have your phone on you to see the message.

Drew had frowned. "Who the hell is Y/N/N?" He hadn't a single clue who Madelyn was talking about.

"Sorry, Y/N." Madelyn corrected herself, thinking using your name would be clearer. Not everyone called you ‘Y/N/N'.

"I'm still confused." The frown stayed on Drew's face.

It was then Madelyn's turn to frown. "Y/N Y/L/N?" She questioned. But the confused look stayed on Drew's face. "Come on, Drew." Madelyn spoke about you enough for Drew to have recognised the name.

"Am I supposed to know who that is?" Drew asked her, before taking a sip from his drink.

"Drew...I am shocked." Madelyn couldn't believe Drew didn't have a single clue who you were. Madelyn's best friend for the past two years.

"Is this the same person you talk about all the time? The singer." It was as though a lightbulb went off in Drew's head. All the times Madelyn spoke about you, he had suddenly remembered.

"Yes!"

"Right. I still don't really know who she is." Although he knew you were friends with Madelyn, he still wasn't sure who you were. Had never seen you anywhere before or listened to any of your music. For all he knew, Madelyn could have been making you up.

Madelyn rolled her eyes and looked back down at her phone to text you. "I'll introduce you to her. She's amazing, you'll love her."

"Sure." Drew knew Madelyn was only saying that because she loved you. It wasn't as though he'd become friends with you, or even see you again. At least so he thought.

A good 20 minutes had passed. The topic of you had been left and Drew and Madelyn continued to speak about other things. Till a familiar face walked into sight. "Y/N/N!" Madelyn shouted for you, hoping she was loud enough for you to hear.

You had finally been given a minute to breathe and was on your way to grab a drink when you heard somebody calling your name. "Oh my God, Maddie." You had never been so happy to see your friend. You approached Madelyn, completing missing for a second that Madelyn had been standing with somebody else. You quickly wrapped your arms around your friend, giving her a squeeze. "Please save me. I haven't had a minute to even think since I got here." You had said as you hugged your friend.

"Okay, Miss Popular." Madelyn laughed as she released you from her hold.

You then pouted. "I've missed you." Two months without having time to see each other was too long. You two had been inseparable since the moment you met two years ago.

"I missed you too." Madelyn mirrored your pout. She then heard a cough from beside her. "Oh, Y/N/N, this is Drew." Madelyn had completely forgotten Drew was beside her. But you had noticed. His piercing stare had caught your attention the moment you saw him standing with Madelyn. "Drew, this is Y/N."

You had a hunch it was Drew standing beside Madelyn. You’d obviously never met him before but you had seen the odd photo, and had watched Outer Banks before. Madelyn also spoke about him a lot. "Ah, the famous Drew Starkey." You smiled at him. "It's nice to finally meet you. I've heard a lot about you." Your smile grew and Drew had almost forgotten to reply.

"You have?" He raised an eyebrow.

You nodded. "Yeah. From Maddie, Chase. You're probably the only one I hadn't met." You had seemed to have met all of Madelyn's costars and friends except for Drew.

"Well, it's nice to finally meet the Y/N/N that Madelyn won't shut up about." Drew smiled, feeling himself feeling strange under your gaze.

"Aww." You turned to Madelyn.

"It's true, I do talk about you a lot." Madelyn said, nodding her head. She wasn't embarrassed about it, you knew how much Madelyn adored you.

You were about to turn back to Drew, say something else but you were interrupted by your name being called. "Y/N." The voice of your manager filled your ears and you winced.

"Oh no, I'm being summoned."

Your manager approached you from the side, gently placing her hand on your shoulder. "Sorry to interrupt, but there's somebody I want you to meet."

"Okay, coming." You smiled and nodded, before turning back to Madelyn and Drew. "Sorry, I can't stay and chat." You told them both. You then looked towards Madelyn. "We'll meet up soon, okay?" Madelyn nodded. You then turned to Drew. "And it was nice to meet you, Drew." You gave him a smile, your cheeks flushing but you didn't notice.

"Yeah, you too." Drew mirrored your smile, and your flushed cheeks. You then disappeared into the crowd and Drew never saw you again that night. But your face and your voice spent the night in his head. He couldn't seem to think about anything else, even for days after.

yourusername posted a photo !

liked by zendaya, joeyking and 1,063,622 others

yourusername in a sheer dress

view all 2,673 comments

user god damn GOD DAMN

user she’s so hot and she knows it

madelyncline fuck you’re so hot

↳ yourusername fuck i love you

user hope she’s working on her new album

↳ user she hasn’t even toured eics yet, give her a chance

joeyking PLEASE GIVE ME A CHANCE

↳ yourusername like i wouldn’t date the fuck out of you if either of us swung for the other team

user caption sounds like a song lyric

tags: @esquivelbianca @ts1mp0ne @fruitcakerafe @anothertimegirl @soincredible @ursogorgeous13 @drewsephrry @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @hypnotizedstarkey @sereneera @glitteryfurything @harrys-housewife @st8rkey

[puttersmile]

Heart & Sol Month Days 9 & 22

Prompts: Shared Secrets and Under the Stars

A short story comes with this one!

A Lonely Kind of Cheer

The town square glowed with twinkling lights, festive garlands draped across every storefront. Snowflakes drifted lazily from the sky, settling on the cobblestone streets like tiny, frozen stars. It was the kind of picture-perfect winter evening that should have felt magical.

But for Dogday, it felt heavy.

He leaned against a lamppost near the bakery, watching the towns-critters bustle past, their arms full of wrapped gifts and baskets of sweets. Everywhere he turned, someone was laughing, smiling, embracing the season. And every time someone waved at him—called his name—he waved back, flashing that effortless grin of his.

Just keep smiling. They expect you to be happy.

The thought sat sourly in his chest.

It hadn’t always been like this.

In the past he had thrown himself into the holiday rush—helping neighbors hang their lights, hauling trees into living rooms, carrying more bags of flour and sugar into the bakery than Bobby could count. If he kept moving, kept helping, kept making himself useful, maybe he’d find the warmth of the season that everyone else seemed to feel so easily.

But this year was different.

The cold months were a drain. The long, sunless days left him exhausted before he even got out of bed. The thought of lifting another box, decorating another tree, or forcing another grin made his limbs feel like they were weighed down with rocks.

The exhaustion was deeper this time. And worse—this year, he didn’t have the energy to ignore it.

“Dogday!”

He turned at the sound of Bobby’s voice, and for a split second, his exhaustion faded. There she was, bundled in her favorite holiday sweater, a tray of steaming pastries balanced effortlessly in her hands. She looked as warm and bright as the holiday itself.

“There you are! I was hoping I’d run into you.” She beamed, offering him one of the treats. “Fresh out of the oven! Tell me that doesn’t make you feel at least a little festiiiive!"

He took the pastry automatically, but his stomach twisted at the forced cheer in her voice.

It was too much.

Her eyes were too bright. Her voice too eager. And the way she moved—it was as if she was trying to keep pace with the world around her, not allowing a single moment of stillness.

Dogday had known Bobby long enough to recognize when something was off. And right now, beneath all that sparkle, he could see it—something strained.

Something painfully familiar.

“You ever sit down this time of year?” Dogday asked, keeping his voice light.

Bobby huffed a laugh. “Not if I can help it. Too much to do! So many cookies to bake, decorations to fix, last-minute gifts to wrap—”

“Sounds exhausting,” he cut in.

She hesitated for a fraction of a second—so quick that anyone else might have missed it. But Dogday didn’t.

Then she laughed again, waving him off. “I like being busy.”

That was truth but with a hidden lie. He knew it.

But what was he supposed to do? Call her out? Tell her he knew exactly what she was doing because he did the same thing?

Because he used to overcompensate, too—rushing to help every critter with their Christmas plans, throwing himself into the holiday chaos just so he wouldn’t have to sit with the weight pressing against his chest?

Because if he didn’t, people would see what was underneath—and that scared him more than anything?

The thought made him feel sick.

Instead, he took a bite of the pastry, chewing slowly. Strawberry, it was delicious. Of course it was.

“You know,” he said carefully, “you don’t have to do all of this.”

Bobby’s smile faltered, just a little.

“Oh, I know,” she said quickly. “But I like doing it. Really. Makes everything feel…” She trailed off, gaze flickering away. “I dunno. Full.”

Dogday exhaled softly, feeling that sourness rumble in his chest.

“Hey…Bobby,” he said softly. "I want to tell you something. A-a secret."

She looked at him then, her usual confidence cracking just enough for him to see something raw underneath.

For the first time all season, she wasn’t grinning.

And for the first time all season, Dogday didn’t force a smile either.

“I hate Christmas,” he admitted.

The words hung between them, suspended in the cold night air. Bobby’s eyes widened, and for a long moment, she didn’t say anything.

Then, very quietly, she whispered, “I hate being alone.”

Dogday’s breath hitched.

The weight of the season didn't lift. But it had shifted.

They had spent so long pretending, so long trying to convince the world (and themselves) ñthat they were fine—that Christmas didn’t hurt.

But now, standing here, facing each other, there was no more pretending.

“…Guess we’re a mess, huh?” Dogday said, voice thick. Despite himself, there was still a smile.

Bobby let out a breathy, teary laugh. “Yeah.”

Then, before he could react, she reached out and hugged him. A real hug—not the usual playful, squeeze-the-air-out-of-you kind she usually gave. This one was different. It was slow. Careful. Steady.

Dogday hesitated only a second before he hugged her back.

For once, neither of them had to fake anything.

They didn’t have to act.

Maybe they weren’t as alone in this as they thought.

End.

Headcanon: Dogday gets winter depression.

And its likely "canon" Bobby has bad seperation anxiety.

I did use shipping tags but I think a moment like this would happen before they are a couple.

[a-babe-without-a-name]

Sit Next To Me

Chapter 3: That’s Actually Very Unreasonable.

You had created two rules for yourself.

Rule One: You could do whatever you wanted. Get the degree you want, party when you want, cancel plans when you want, love who you want. Whatever you really wanted to do, you were going to do, anxiety and guilt free.

Rule Two: You could do whatever you wanted, except for have relationships with classmates. No sex, no dating. If they were on the same course roster as you, they were off limits.

Easy enough, right?

...Right?

Viktor x Female!Reader - 18+

A.N. Yay! Ch 3 is finally done! I pay Rugby and practice started up this week, which is a big reason this wasn't done a little bit sooner. But thank you to everyone for bearing with me and thank you SO MUCH for the support. I've received so many kind comments and messages, I'm so happy that I decided to actually finish and post this instead of letting it it in my google drive. Chapter 4 is coming, I'm not gonna promise when, but its on the way.

At the request of at least one person, I'm going to start a tag list in the replies of each chapter, lmk if you want to be added to that!

ALSO. Someone sent in a request and I am very excited about this. I wasn't planning on asking for requests, but I think it would be good for me to use those as a brain break from the main long form story. So if anyone is interested, feel free to send one shot or head canon requests my way! NSFW or SFW is fine! If you have questions, send an ask :) Anyways, I'll shut up now. Enjoy <3

Read on AO3

Waking up on Saturday was…difficult, to say the least.  After spending the summer mostly sober, save for the occasional drink with your dad or joint by yourself, your body was not prepared for the previous night's substance intake. You felt grimy when you came to in your bed. Your skin sticky from sweat, your mouth dryer than all hell, and your brain felt like it had been shaken in a jar. Laying there, face in your pillow, the pros and cons of climbing out of bed tumbled around your head.

You decided that if it was before noon, you’d allow yourself a few more hours of sleep, otherwise you had to get up. Blindly you stuck a hand onto the counter at the head of your bed, knocking things left out from last night around until you found your phone. The bright screen made your temple pulse when you clicked it on.

12:01.

You dropped your head and groaned into the pillow. A deal was a deal, though, even with yourself. You gave yourself grace as you sat up in bed, looking around your tiny double dorm room. Bright light shone around the edge of the blinds, making you squint. Clothes were still scattered around your side, your hightops dropped haphazardly on the floor, not far from your shorts. You had barely managed to piss, brush your teeth, and put on clean underwear before knocking out last night. You could still feel what little makeup you had on last night smeared around your eyes. All of your pre-made plans to hydrate and clean up before going to bed were abandoned as soon as you set foot into your room. 

Lest on the other hand, looked like a princess in her bed. Washed hair in two braids, fresh pjs on, and her trusty sleep mask covering her eyes. She even layed like a princess, flat on her back with her hands folded on her stomach. You envied her discipline for hygiene even when drunk. 

You slid out of bed. Bracing yourself on the frame with a groan when your stomach flipped. Lest didn’t even flinch, she slept both like a princess and a log. You left on the clothes you slept in, wrapped a towel around your waist, and gathered your shower bag. First order of business was to clean up, because even one more minute of feeling like you were covered in a film of alcohol and smoke and you were gonna peel your skin off. 

The shared hallway was aggressively bright, but fortunately empty. You were sure you couldn’t handle an awkward ‘on the way to the shower’ run in with a hallmate right now. You’d probably throw up on the carpet. Luckily on a well weathered first Saturday of the semester, the hall was virtually abandoned. Which also meant that the only single user bathroom on your side of the building was free.

You leaned heavily against the closed door, eyes screwed shut as you fought back the wave of nausea that came with your short walk. With your eyes closed you found the automatic light switch, pushing the button to shut the lights down. The frosted window let in just enough light to see without burning your eyes out. You hung up your things and started the shower, knowing it would take a while for it to warm up. 

You took that time to brush your teeth, sick of the grit that lined your mouth. When you saw yourself in the mirror you couldn't help but to cringe. You were a wreck. The makeup around your eyes was worse than you imagined, smeared completely around your eyes in an intense racoon mask. Your hair was half out of the scrunchie you had pulled it into on the way home, hanging awkwardly on your neck. As you brushed your teeth, you tilted your head at the borrowed shirt realizing something off about it. You frowned at it in the mirror, trying to make out what the writing said. Whatever it was, it wasn’t Metallica. You spit in the sink and set your toothbrush to the side before pulling the shirt over your head. It didn’t say Metallica, it said Mozart in the Metallica font. 

You snorted a laugh, “Jayce, what the fuck?” Folding the shirt up, you shoved it into your bag, hoping you'd remember to wash it with your laundry. When you caught a glimpse of your bare torso in the mirror, you froze. 

Memories of last night came flooding back as you stared at the red marks scattered across your body. An unsteady line of hickeys connected one hip bone to the other,  a few were splayed up across your stomach and in a cluster across your chest. There was even one framed by a perfect bite mark on the top of your shoulder. 

“God damn…” You muttered, turning in the mirror in search of more. While you didn’t find any more hickeys sucked into your skin, you did find thin bruises on the sides of both your thighs from his fingers digging into your flesh. 

You stepped closer to the mirror, ghosting your fingertips over the marks. You couldn’t help but shudder at the memory of his hands on you. You could still feel him against you, his lips, his tongue, his teeth. You gripped the edge of the sink, willing the thoughts away. It was a hookup with a stranger who’s name wasn’t even known to you. It wasn’t going to happen again. 

Despite that fact, you thought of him in the shower until the water ran cold.

-----

Lest was awake when you made it back to your room. In the time it took you to shower she had managed to get dressed, make both herself and you coffee and frozen breakfast sandwiches, clean up your side of the room, and get the first season of Love Island up on your TV. She was stirring creamer into her coffee when you came in.

“Goodmorning,” You said, locking your door behind you, “How long have you been up?”

“Like, 45 minutes,” She said, setting the creamer to the side for you, “Were you in the shower that whole time?”

“Er, yeah, sorry. I wanted to shave,” You lied, a little surprised at how long you had actually been gone. You hoped Lest wouldn’t notice that you definitely had not shaved.

You dressed quickly. You and Lest had never been shy about changing in front of each other, but right now you had yourself angled awkwardly against your closet, praying to god she didn’t catch a glimpse of the love bites you were sporting. Luckily you managed to pull on a tshirt and sweats without her noticing. It’s not like you needed to hide from her, you usually told her everything as soon as it happened, but this time you wanted to keep it to yourself. At least for a little bit. You knew she’d have something, probably valid, to say about the complete unknown of the man you had sex with. She’d scold you on how dangerous it was and drag you to the health center to get tested for an STD.

“How’re you feeling?” She asked as you made up your coffee.

“A little like I was hit by a truck,” You shrugged, putting the cream away in your tiny fridge, “But I’ve definitely felt worse. You?”

“Better than I thought I would,” Lest told you, starting the show, “I didn’t drink much towards the end, and I didn’t smoke at all so I guess it makes sense.”

“You’re lucky,” You joked, climbing into bed with your coffee and breakfast, “We’re still doing nothing today right?”

“Oh, for sure.” Lest said nodding with wide eyes, “This is probably the last weekend we’ll be able to actually push homework off. Everything can wait until tomorrow.”

“Works for me,” You nodded, sipping your coffee and tuning into the trashy reality show you and Lest were hooked on.

You realized pretty quickly that all the gorgeous men and women and unhealthy relationships in the world wouldn’t distract you enough. You had figured post your incredibly long shower you’d be free of Pretty Boy, that the memory of him would ebb away. No luck.

By the time Micheal had been cast out of the Villa, you had managed to replay last night's events a hundred times in your head. It wasn’t just the sex that you were hyper focused on, it was every second you were near him. You kept thinking about how he looked in the kitchen, the way the lights moved over his skin and hair. The fact that even in the dark his eyes were still so bright and warm. You could hear  the lilt of his accent in your head, all the words he said to you, all the things he called you. 

What really stuck with you was how soft it all had been. How gentle and kind he had been with you. The way his voice sounded when he asked if you were leaving. How much you wished you had said no. This was going to haunt you for at least a week, you knew it would. You were preparing for it to be a very hard and very unfocused week.

Lest called you out a few times during the lazy afternoon, questioning your mental absence from the shared room. You brushed her off with excuses of exhaustion and nausea. You could tell she was worried, but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell her. Eventually, not many hours after waking up, you let yourself fall asleep to the thought of his lips on yours.

-------

On Sunday you woke up well before the sun, thanks to your early bedtime. You stared up at the ceiling, willing yourself back to sleep, but as your room slowly turned from pitch black into grey tones you knew it wasn’t going to happen. Quietly you pulled yourself out of bed and got ready for the day. It was barely even six by the time you were finished getting ready, but you were restless. Scribbling a note for Lest, you left your dorm. 

There was a time when you’d go on a walk before the sun was fully up every morning. It was when you enjoyed campus the most. The cold and quiet of it was comforting, it felt like home. Almost completely deserted at this hour. The only souls you ever saw this early were the landscapers, perfecting the small campus before the day began, and the occasional early rising professor walking a beloved campus dog. On a Sunday, though, it was truly empty. 

You wandered without really knowing where you were going, you let your feet remember the familiar path they once took so frequently. The sun barely peeked over the line of trees and brick buildings, casting long shadows over the quad. Dew grayed the grass, evaporating where the sun touched it. Eventually you reached the flower garden nestled between the two original buildings of the campus. You settled on a cold stone bench, the dedication plaque so worn it was nearly unreadable. 

You looked around the garden. The variety of flowers were in full bloom as the summer came to a close, each one tended to with great care. It was a sacred place on campus, for everyone. It was where most students had been introduced to the school, the garden being the meeting spot for all campus tours. During both matriculation and graduation, students paraded through it. The flowers were both a beautiful welcome and a bittersweet goodbye to those who chose Piltover for their education. It was impossible not to love it.

You sighed and picked at a patch of lichen on the edge of the bench. Remembering what else you used to do on these early walks, another habit you regretfully fell out of. You dragged your knees up to your chest and pulled your phone from your hoodie pocket. Your fingers were on autopilot as they navigated to your contacts.

It rang only once.

“Good morning Buddy,” Your dad’s voice was warming even through the phone.

“Good morning,” You said, leaning your cheek against your knee, “How are you?”

“I’m good, just getting ready to head out on the boat,” You could hear him shuffling around as he spoke. You could picture him, preparing for the day in the kitchen, “How are you? You’re up pretty early.”

“Working on a Sunday? That’s unlike you,” You joked, it was actually very like him, “I fell asleep early last night, couldn't go back to bed.”

“No, actually, not working today,” You heard the front door of your house open and close, “I’m headed out with the guys. The weathers going to be good for some deep fishing, today.”

“Oh good, that’ll be nice. I hope the catch is good,” You were glad he was taking time for himself, “Send me pictures if you get anything cool.”

“Of course buddy,” He laughed, you heard his truck start up, “Wait, so you went to bed early on a Saturday night? When did you become so boring?”

You scoffed, “Excuse me, are you mad that I am a responsible adult?”

“That’s not what I said!” He assured you.

“Yeah sure,” You rolled your eyes but smiled anyways, “Besides, it was friday night that I was out until three in the morning, rest assured I am certainly not boring.”

“Hm, okay,” He was quiet for a moment, “You’re making good decisions, I hope? Staying safe.”

You groaned at the implications of his words, embarrassed that they weren't actually that far off. He didn’t need to know that, though.

“Yes Dad, I am making perfectly fine decisions,” You half lied to him.

“Good to know. I’m too young to be a grandfather.”

“Ew,” You fake gagged, “Don’t say stuff like that.”

He laughed on the other end. It had been a week and a half since you saw him last, but you already missed the sound of him laughing, “How was your first week of classes?”

“Good,” You told him, “So far at least. I mean, it's the first week and I already have a good amount of homework to do, which sucks, but I think I can handle it.”

“Yeah, you’ve got this, though,” He assured you, never not confident in your abilities, “You always do. What classes are you taking again?”

“I have two envi-sci classes right now, one with a lab, a chemistry class with a lab, and I’m taking an Asian American Lit class, to keep myself from going crazy in the science building.” You told him, thinking about your particularly heavy science schedule, “I’m trying to switch chemistry classes, though. There's a smaller class with a…better professor. Not that my current professor is bad, it’s just that Heimerdinger is, like, the best professor here. I’d like to take at least one class with him. I’m on the waiting list.”

“Sounds like a good schedule. I’m glad you're taking a non-science class, it’ll be good for your brain,” He told you, “And I’ll cross my fingers you get into that class you want.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” You laughed, at this point you didn’t have much hope for getting in, but you could always try next semester.

“Hey, has your mom talked to you?” The question made you groan. 

“No, why?” You didn’t particularly want to talk to her, not since her 2nd remarriage last summer. 

“She called the other day and asked if she could have you for Christmas this year?” He was treading carefully, “I think you should.”

‘What? No way,” You answered immediately, offended at the idea that you would want to do that, “First of all, I’m not 15 anymore, neither of you get to have me, I can decide where I want to go for breaks. And second, Why would I want to spend break in Arizona with her child groom and his infant children?”

He was, clearly, not a child groom. Paul was 35, but in comparison to your mother’s age- 45- he might as well be a teenager. His kids weren’t infants either, 9 & 14, but, again, they might as well have been. 

“Hey, I know, I trust you to make your own decisions, but I also know that you’ve developed a lot of anger recently with your mom,” He sighed, “I don’t want you to have a bad relationship with her your whole life, it’s not healthy.”

“Really milking those two years of psychology undergrad, huh,” You joked bitterly. Your dad would have been the best therapist in the world if he had finished school. Your surprise arrival put an end to that half dream instantly. He never resented you for it. 

“I’m serious, buddy,” His voice was calm, urging you to be open, “It wouldn’t have to be for the whole break, just a couple days around Christmas. If you want to spend the rest of the time here with me you can, obviously. Just think about it?”

“Fine…I’ll think about it,” You pouted, he could convince you of anything, “But no promises.”

“Thank you, sorry for springing this on you right now.” You could hear chatter somewhere behind him, he was probably at the docks by now.

“It’s okay, sorry for being a brat about it,” You laughed softly.

“You’d be nothing without your attitude,” He teased, in the background you could hear someone calling his name.

“I get it from you,” That wasn’t entirely true, you and him both knew it, “But hey, I’ll let you go, sounds like you’re needed.”

“Yeah, the guys just showed up,” He admitted, “I can tell them to wait for a bit though if you want to keep talking?”

“Nah, it’s okay,” You insisted, checking the time, “I should probably go, anyways. Me and Lest are gonna go work on homework in a bit.”

“Okay, no problem,” He told you, you wished you could talk to him all day, you wished you were going fishing with him, “I’m proud of you, buddy, and I love you so much.”

“Love you too, Dad,” You said, trying to hold back tears, “Have fun out there, be safe.”

“Always am. Tell Lest I say hello for me, Love you.” He let you hang up the phone. 

You wrapped your arms around your legs and buried your head in your knees, unable to hold back the sobs. You let yourself cry. You didn’t think this was how you’d start your morning, but it was fine. Almost cathartic in a way, to let yourself be sad about something as childish as missing your dad who was only a day. You knew it was fine and very normal, but it still felt immature. Regardless, you let yourself cry until Lest finally texted you.

-------

The rest of the day was just as unexpected. When you headed back to your dorm Lest had just started to get ready. You laid in your bed, scrolling through your phone until she was ready. In the hour or so it took her to shower, get dressed, and gather her school work, the weather took a drastic change. You had wanted to lay out on the quad and do work, but the soft sunny sky was full of clouds now, all threatening rain. Instead, you and Lest headed to the small coffee shop on campus. Here it was much harder to focus. You camped out at a table in the corner, despite this everyone who knew you or her came over to chat. Meaning the amount of work you finished was…disappointing, to say the least. 

Then, due to the cafe's short Sunday hours, you had to relocate once again. At the overly polite requests of the baristas, you packed up and hauled off to the library. You wished you had come here in the first place. It was pretty much vacant this time of day and you and Lest set up in the quiet section, assuring no one would bother you even if they wanted to. Workflow was steady now, you managed to knock out one assignment after another. In the quiet of the library you were even able to focus on your textbook readings enough to take notes. 

As the afternoon began to turn to evening and the library began to fill up, you were finally in the home stretch. Lest was on her last set of practice questions for her math class and you had one more reading and a chemistry practice test to do. You’d probably be back to your room within the hour. You opened up the practice test, determined to get everything done. 

It was harder than you had expected. Some of the questions were fairly basic, things you knew from level one and even highschool chemistry, and there were a few that took a little effort but were fresh in your head from last semester. Almost half the questions, though, were questions that were completely foreign to you. You could make out bits and pieces of it in your brain. Some questions gently touched by your previous professors and others that you could make shaky assumptions on. You tried to remind yourself that this was a practice test for a reason, but the shitty score you knew would show at the end still bothered you. In the end you got 65%. 

You opened up your email to check for submission confirmation before moving on to the reading. A recent message at the top of the box made you pause. You read it quickly once, twice, three times. 

“I’m off the waitlist,” You told Lest, flinching when someone at a nearby table shushed you.

“What?” She whispered, leaning closer to see your laptop.

“I’m off the waitlist for chem,” You whispered back, opening up the class portal and accepting the offer.

“I thought you were in a chem class already?” She raised an eyebrow at you.

“Yeah, but I got into the class with the professor I actually want,” You explained, wishing you could be more excited than the setting allowed. 

“Oh, that's…good,” You could tell she didn’t quite get it, but wanted to be happy for you anyways.

“Yes, it’s very good,” You laughed, pushing your chair away from the table, “and as a reward, I’m gonna go piss.”

“Babe, please don’t give yourself a UTI because you only pee after academic success,” Lest jokingly begged, rubbing the space between her eyebrows.

You couldn’t hold back a laugh as you walked away from the table, ignoring the dirty looks from other tables. You were thrilled, a class with Heimerdinger genuinely opened up a world of connections. He knew scientists in every field all over the world. Of course, as the dean of the science department, he was willing to help any student make connections, but it was definitely easier if you were in his class. You were so happy about this, you didn’t mind that the practice test you just spent an hour on was for a class you were about to drop. 

You pulled out your phone, shooting off a text to your dad.

Got into the class I wanted! Thx 4 crossing ur fingers

He responded immediately.

Yay… that’s great, happy for you… wanna see the catch today?

You shook your head at the ellipses habit he refused to break. Such an old man.

TY!!! Yes obvi. Fish Now. 

He sent back a photo of himself and one of the older guys he fished with holding an impressively sized mahi mahi.

Omg mahi this late in the szn is craaazzyyy, very jealous

You couldn’t help the pang of sadness that bloomed in your chest. Missing your dad intensely for the second time that day.

Yeah, me and the guys were surprised for sure…I got go, talk to you later?

Oki!

Love you Buddy

Love u toooo

You slammed into someone in your distraction as you hit send. The apology coming out of your mouth only made it halfway, your mind and body freezing up at the flash of chestnut hair and pale skin above you. 

“Woah, watch it.” The guy, who you realized a second later was not in fact Pretty Boy, snapped at you.

“Sorry,” Your voice came out like a squeak, you cleared your throat, speaking louder, “Sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, it’s…uh it’s fine,” Not Pretty Boy said, looking down at you oddly, “Are you okay?”

You realized you were staring at him, studying all the ways in which he wasn’t Pretty Boy. Too stocky, face too round, hair too long, eyes a dull green. 

“Uh, yeah. I’m fine, sorry,” You shook your head, stepping past him as you apologized again.

You hurried off to the restroom, face burning as you locked yourself into a stall. You had managed to keep him out of your head all day. You dressed without looking at the marks he left behind, you kept your mind busy with work and thoughts of your family situation, you barely even acknowledged the fact that you had a body. 

And now after all that work, here you were, unable to think about anything besides him. You groaned and thumped your head against the stall door, knowing he’d be inescapable for the rest of the night. 

You stared at your hand on your leg, fingers digging into the bruises under your jeans. You had set your book down for the hundredth time, barely halfway through the reading, distracted again.  Every time you tried to read the words on the page, you wouldn’t get far. Unable to process any of the information you were looking at. It all felt like a different language. You could feel his hands pressing into your legs, his lips on your neck, accent in your ears.

Something hitting your forehead made you jump, startling you out of the daydream.

“Earth to struggling student,” Lest whispered, crumpling another sticky note and launching it at you.

You swatted the yellow paper away, frowning at her, “What?”

“Girl, where have you been this weekend?” Lest hissed, leaning across the table, eyebrows furrowed, “You’ve been weird ever since Jayce’s party. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” You shrugged.

“Okay, liar,” She deadpanned, rolling her eyes, “What’s up?”

“Nothing!” You insisted, rifling the pages of your book. 

She stared at you, blink her big eyes expectantly. At this point, she wasn’t going to give up.

“I hooked up with someone at the party” You muttered, not looking at her.

“What?” She gasped, ignoring the looks from other tables. She stood and took the seat next to you, pulling her chair close and leaning in, “When?”

“When I went to wash my top in the garage,” You told her, chewing on your lip, “I wasn’t exactly smoking alone,”

“Oh my god!” She squeaked, eyes wide, “You fucked someone in Jayce and Cait’s garage??”

“Shhh,” You placed a palm over her mouth, worried about wandering ears, “Be quiet, I don’t need the whole student body to know.”

She just blinked at you over the top of your hand, waiting.

“Yeah, in the garage,” You could feel your face getting hot.

“Did you guys… like, get a home run? Or only make it to 3rd base?” She raised an eyebrow.

“What are you? 12?” You scoffed, glancing sideways as you told her, “...home run.”

“Good girl!” She punched you lightly on the arm, “Wait, that’s why you’ve been so spacy? You’ve been thinking about your little garage escapade all weekend?”

“Lest, you don't get it,” You insisted, “It was, like, amazing. Quite possibly the best sex I have ever had in my entire life. Like, honeymoon waited until marriage but somehow still perfect at it kind of sex.”

“No way,”

“Yes way, bitch,” You said, raising your eyebrows at her, “yes fucking way.”

“Damn…” She stared down at the table, then quirked her head to the side, “Who?”

There it was, the reason you hadn’t told her as soon as it happened.

“Um, well…” You hesitated. Lest narrowed her eyes at you, you could see her mind scrolling the list of possibilities. You cringed, “I don’t exactly know.”

Lest gaped at you, “What?”

“We were both high,” You admitted sheepishly, “And kind of caught up with other things. Names didn’t come up.”

“Are you crazy?”

“He was nice!” You defended, “Like, so fucking nice.”

“That is so dangerous!” She scolded, more concerned than mad, “Did you use a condom?”

“Christ, Lest, of course,” You rolled your eyes, “I’m not dumb.”

“I know, but you said you were high,” She shrugged, “Just wanted to make sure I didn’t need to find a way to squeeze a crib into our dorm.” 

“Twenties pregnancy is no joke,” You told Lest, trying to hold your face straight as long as you could before the corners of your mouth cracked upwards. 

“Damn, so great sex guy is anonymous,” She sighed, “That’s kind of a bummer. He goes here right?”

“He said he did,” You told her, “That’d be an odd thing to lie about, right?”

“Yeah, well, maybe you’ll see him at another party?” She said, hopeful.

“Yeah, maybe,” You sighed, “I don’t know, it was so good I almost don’t want to do it again.”

“That makes zero sense,” she scrunched her nose.

“I mean, I fucked this guy once for, like, an hour.” You explained, “And he is all I’ve been able to think about for the past two days. Do I really want to do this again?”

“Well, if you make it a habit,” She offered.

“I don’t know,” You sighed, shaking your head, “It sucks, but I think it’s better if it doesn't happen again. I don’t think my grades could handle it.” You waved the book you had tried and failed to read for the past hour. 

“Skill issue.” She shrugged, shutting her laptop, “Do you have to finish that reading tonight? I wanna get dinner.”

“Uh, thanks Lest, very cool,” You scoffed, rolling your eyes at her joke, “And I’m not going to be able to anyways. I’ll finish it before class tomorrow.”

“Okay good,” Lest said, standing and stretching her arms over her head, “I’ll get us Thai if you promise details.”

“Hm, you know, I’m not against trading my secrets for pad thai and mango rice,” You laughed, packing your stuff up.

Clasping her hands together she determined, “This is, like, better than Love Island.” 

You just scoffed, shaking your head at her.

-------

As thrilled as you were to be taking Heimerdinger's class, there was one tiny drawback. It was your first and only seven am. You had managed four whole semesters of not having to be in a class until at least nine. That was very much on purpose, because dragging yourself out of bed at five in the morning was not your idea of a good start to the day. 

As much as you wanted to skip past your first alarm and show up to class unshowered and in sweatpants, you figured that wasn’t the most professional first impression to make on the dean. So you got up like a good student. You took your time getting ready and double checking that you had everything you’d need for your two classes of the day, preferring to not haul back to the dorm between them. You had correctly calculated enough time to stop at the cafe on the way to grab coffee with a higher caffeine content than what you could make in your room. 

There were quite a few seven am classes available, but given that you were over 30 minutes early, the halls of the science building were still fairly deserted. A few offices were lit up and some classrooms had TAs setting up for the day, but not much student presence yet. When you found the room the schedule had directed you to, you were pleased to see it was empty. It’d be easier to talk to who you considered the most intimidating professor on campus without an audience.

The classroom was small, but you knew the lab attached through a door at the back would be much bigger. Professor Heimerdinger was sitting behind the desk at the front, fidgeting with the desktop computer. You knocked on the doorframe to get his attention.

“Good morning Professor Heimerdinger,” You greeted, stepping partially into the room as you told him your name, “I was on the waitlist until last night, I wasn’t sure if they told you I had moved off of it.”

“Oh! Good morning, dear,” He beamed from under his impressively large mustache, moving away from the computer, “Yes, it was mentioned that there may be a change in the roster. I’m glad you were able to move up from the waitlist. Welcome.”

“Thank you,” You smiled, you had never been in the same room as the esteemed man, only ever seen him give speeches or in passing around campus, you walked over to his desk, “I’m also glad to be here, I’ve been looking forward to taking one of your classes. I’ve heard great things.”

“That’s very kind of you to say,” He walked around his desk and extended a hand up towards you. Due to his short stature you had to bend just slightly at the waist to return the gesture, “I’m glad to have you in class, your name is familiar. Are you acquaintances with Mr. Jayce Talis, by chance?”

You knew Jayce had been lucky enough to score Heimerdinger as his advisor and close mentor, you were surprised he had mentioned you, though.

“Yes, actually, Jayce is a very close friend of mine,” You told him, trying to hide a nervous laugh, “Has he been speaking of me?”

“Only good things, my dear,” He said, picking up on your anxiety, “I assure you.”

“Good to know,” You laugh, hoping it wasn’t too loud in the small space, “Thank you, again, I am really grateful for the opportunity to be in your class.”

“Well of course,” He told you, moving back around his desk as he spoke, “Have you been able to acquire the reading materials for the class?”

“I ordered the textbook last night,” You explained, “I should have it by the end of the week. I’m sure I can borrow a copy from a classmate for the time being.”

“No need, I have an extra copy you are welcome to use until yours arrives,” He pulled a dense book from under his desk, “It’s an earlier edition, though, so just be sure that you read the correct sections.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” You took the worn book, he also handed you a printed syllabus, “Was there reading for today? I could try to get some of it done before class starts.”

“Last week’s schedule became a little jumbled due to my being under the weather, so the first reading is due next class, if you would like to review the syllabus and schedule before class, you will be all caught up,” He explained. You couldn’t describe the relief this gave you, “We only met for one class last week, so you aren’t behind, but the class has already been divided into groups for the semester. I apologize that you were not here for the grouping. I allow students to choose who they work with, so if you see someone you know feel free to join their group.”

“Okay, thank you.” You nodded and turned to find a seat.

As Heimerdinger returned back to his computer, you set up in the corner of the room. The syllabus was fairly basic, but gave a good explanation of the Professor’s expectations. You were sure this wasn’t going to be an easy class, but you were also sure you’d enjoy the challenge. The only thing that was making you anxious was the fact that  none of the students that showed up were familiar to you. You watched as the clock ticked closer and closer to seven, your knee bouncing under the table. You tried to distract yourself by skimming through the borrowed textbook, settling on a random section to pass the time with.

You were halfway through the chapter about asymmetric oxidation and reduction when a newer copy of the book was dropped on the table in front of you with a bang. You jumped, looking up in surprise.

“Hey stranger,” Jinx smirked down at you, nodding at your book,“Pretty impressive reading pace you’ve got there.”

“Jinx!” You stood, wrapping your arms around her, “I didn’t know you were in this class.”

“Ekko is too, he’ll be here in a minute,” She told you as you settled into your seats, the room was busy now, “Were you on the waitlist?”

“Yeah, this class was a bitch to get into,” You frowned, then realized something, “Wait, how did you get in? You’re a sophomore this year right? This is an upperclassmen class.”

She laughed sheepishly, shrugging, “Ha, well you know, nepotism isn't always bad.”

“No way, Silco got you in? You lucky bitch,” You gasped, but were not surprised that her dad, who happened to be a well respected professor in the business program, had managed to get her into a higher level class. 

“Yeah, and Ekko,” She pulled the rest of her things from her bag, blowing a strand of freshly dyed blue hair out of her face, “You should have told me, I could have gotten you in, too.”

“Sorry, friend nepotism didn’t cross my mind,” You laughed, waving at Ekko as he walked into the room, “I’ll keep it in mind for next time, though.”

“Always got your back, babe,” Jinx gave an over exaggerated smile, all teeth.

Ekko slid into the seat next to Jinx, setting a coffee cup down in front of her, “Hey, where were you last week?” He laughed, extended a fist out for you to bump.

“Still on the waitlist,” You laughed, pulling out your things as other students began to settle into their seats.

“Glad you're here,” He told you, “You wanna be part of our group right?”

“Yes please,” You said with exaggerated begging,“I was worried I’d have to join people I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, there’s a reason I drag him into every class I take,” Jinx laughed, jerking her thumb over to Ekko.

“Yeah, I’m sure the fact that I always give you my notes has nothing to do with it,” He raised an eyebrow at her.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” She stuck her nose up in the air, giving him a side eye.

You couldn’t help but to laugh at them, their large personalities combined to make one big ball of loud and colorful and smart. You had spent a lot of your free time during your summer research with them. Jinx had convinced you to join their little band and you three terrorized the others with very loud and not so great music playing. You were excited to be in class with them. Looking around, though, you noticed that all the other groups consisted of at least three people, some of them even holding five. 

“Are you guys a group of two?” You tilted your head, it would be odd for the Professor to let them do that in a class that seemed to be very group focused.

“What? Oh, no there’s three of us,” Ekko told you, “I don’t know if you’ve met him yet. It’s Jayce’s new roommate, Viktor. I don’t know why he isn’t here yet.”

You laughed, part of you still wondering if this was some insane joke that everyone was really really dedicated to, “Haven't met him, yet, but I’ve heard of him plenty of times.”

“Wasn’t he at the party on Friday?” Jinx asked, “He said Jayce had convinced him to go.”

“Jayce kept saying he was there, but I never ran into him,” You shrugged, “I’m still not convinced he’s real.”

“Yeah, you got us,” Jinx said, dead serious, “He isn’t real.”

“Wait what?” You side eyed her.

“Also we wrote gullible on the ceiling,” She rolled her eyes, you resisted the urge to look up, “Viktor is very real, I promise. He’s super smart too, like, almost as smart as me.”

“Always humble, babe,” Ekko said, patting Jinx on the arm, “Always humble.”

Class began then, Heimerdinger calling everyone's attention to the front of the room. You settled into the flow of it pretty quickly. You weren’t surprised that he managed to be an engaging professor. You’d sat through plenty of his speeches and presentations over the past two years, and never for a second did you find yourself bored during them. He gave a quick overview of what the next couple of weeks were going to look like and then passed around paper practice tests. You were a little disappointed to have to do another one.

This test ended up being somewhat easier than the one you had taken last night, only a few of the questions really escaped you. You could tell this was a test meant to gauge how much the class knew as opposed to how much they didn’t. You had just flipped to the last page when the door to the classroom opened. As much as you wanted to keep your eyes down and not contribute to the awkward stares you were sure everyone was already giving, instinct kicked in and you couldn't help but to glance up.

You froze.

There was no way.

This was not happening. 

You blinked a few times, mouth hanging open as you watched Pretty Boy lean over Heimerdinger's desk, speaking too quiet for you to hear with an apology written all over his face. Your heart dropped all the way down to the center of the earth, your lungs dried out and you felt like your head was under waves.

When Pretty Boy turned around, his perfect amber eyes immediately landed on yours. Freezing, his eyes widened slightly in an expression you were sure was identical to yours. Poorly hidden horror. You looked away, eyes dropping to your paper, the grip around your pencil was tight enough to turn your knuckles white. You could hear him walking straight for your table, cane tapping along with his footsteps.

You furrowed your eyebrows at the table. Why was he coming this way? There were plenty of other seats. Was now the time to confront you? In the quietest classroom imaginable. He slid into the seat next to you.

“Hey Viktor,” Jinx whispered, glancing up before going back to her test.

Viktor. He was Viktor. Pretty Boy was the roommate you were convinced didn’t exist. The one you had just told Jinx you had never met. The reality that you had, in fact, met him very intimately was crashing down around you. You raced back through your memory, all the little dots that you should have connected immediately snapped together. The music he was listening to, the smoking, that he was even in the garage in the first place, the reason you hadn’t recognized him despite being in your year, the fact that you never saw him leave the house. 

He fucking lived there. He was Jayce’s roommate. You had fucked Jayce’s roommate. 

You could feel his eyes on the side of your face as these thoughts ran through your head. You looked up at him, his closeness making you dizzy, but not in a pleasant way like last time. His face was nearly blank, only the slightest pull to his eyebrows that didn’t  give away any of his thoughts. You had never felt the desire to know what someone else was thinking, not really, not until this very moment. 

Not knowing what to do, you let out a shaky breath and went back to your paper. The room was too quiet to speak to him, you could do nothing but endure the remaining time it took for everyone to finish their tests and hope you didn’t faint.

You were keenly aware of his presence next to you. Everything was taken up by Pretty Boy. By Viktor. You could feel the heat of his leg close to yours, you could smell the cologne he was wearing. The scratching of his pen as he started the test was the only sound you could hear. You felt like you were going crazy. At this moment you were sure you could have been committed to a state hospital. The words on the page blurred in front of you. You scribbled out incorrect equations a dozen times before Hiemerdinger finally concluded that everyone was done. 

“I will review these and adjust our scheduled content accordingly,” He told the class as the tests were passed forward, “As an unplanned reward for enduring my data collection, please talk amongst yourselves while I battle with technology. I will begin today’s lesson as soon as possible.”

“Nice,” Jinx said to herself as chatter started up in the classroom, she turned to Pret- to Viktor, “Dude, where were you?”

“Sorry, I was stuck behind a school bus,” He told her, his accent was less thick than you remember, “it wasn’t a problem last week, I wasn’t prepared.”

“Oh, yeah, school just started this week for little kids,” She nodded, she was lost in thought for a moment, no doubt thinking about picking up Isha from school later. She snapped back to the present and told him your name, “She’s part of the larger group, I’m surprised you haven't met yet.”

His eyes met yours and when he said your name, you could have melted all the way to the ground floor, “It’s nice to meet you, are you…joining our group?”

It took you a moment to realize he was holding a hand out to you. You shook it, trying to be as firm as you could, but you knew your hands were shaking. 

“Nice to meet you, too, ” You said, “Um, I can find another group if you-”

“No,” He said, too quickly, “No, that’s not necessary, I’m glad to have you work with us.”

You did your best not to read into that, “Glad to be here.”

“Heimerdinger wanted us to schedule an out of class work time,” Ekko told you, drawing your attention away from Viktor’s face, “We were thinking Friday’s right after class, since we won’t have lab.”

“That works for me,” You nodded, trying to settle into your chair and be casual.

“Cool, I’ll send a calendar invite,” He said, always the proactive one.

“You are friends with Jayce?” Viktor asked, tilting his head at you.

“Yep,” You nodded awkwardly, unsure how to talk to him, “Since freshman year,”

“Hm, interesting.” He mused. 

You hated this. It was so uncomfortable and not at all like the last time you had spoken to him. Even aside from the fact that you weren’t fucking, the few words said were clunky and awkward. You were realizing that the drugs and alcohol you had consumed might have had something to do with the ease of conversation. It made you sad. You knew this was stupid. You knew you were being childish. You were an adult, sex shouldn’t be the cause of this unbearable awkwardness. You should be able to talk to someone you hooked up with, without being on the verge of a panic attack. Luckily, Heimerdinger’s technical difficulties came to an end. He drew back everyone's attention and put a halt to your terrible conversation. You turned away from Viktor, facing the front as the intro to advanced ochem lecture began. 

The rest of class, thankfully, went smoother than you expected. Your group fell into a good rhythm, working together between bouts of notes to work on practice problems. Viktor was less tense, which let you relax a degree. He was more than willing to help you navigate your textbook, looking over your shoulder to check that you were on the right section. He even helped you find the reading for next class, tearing a piece of paper from his notebook and placing it in the pages. There wasn’t a lab planned for the day, so Heimerdinger continued his lecture well into the scheduled lab time. By the end of the four hours, you had written down almost ten pages of notes. Your hands ached.

“Apologies for the lecture heavy class, everyone. Having to cancel our first class last week meant I needed to catch everyone up” Heimerdinger said as he closed out the presentation, “I promise from here on we will utilize the last two hours as lab time. Have a good rest of your day everyone, I will see you on Wednesday.”

You scooped your things into your bag and slung it over your shoulder, “I’ve gotta get to another class, see ya around.”

You darted out of the door before anyone could reply. Your head was filled with too many thoughts. You took the stairs down, doing your best to organize the mess in your brain. You created a list. First, the things you needed to do, right now. Finish the reading for Asian American Lit, number one. Number two, go to your Asian American Lit class. Then, the things that could wait until after. Telling Lest about Viktor/Pretty Boy dilemma. Though, she would be mad that you didn’t call her at that very moment. Asking Jinx to add you to the group chat, meaning you'd have his number. Yeah, that you could wait on. Then the things you decided could wait forever. Number one, talking to Viktor. It’s all you wanted to do. And at the same time you’d rather spontaneously combust than confront that awkward conversation. 

You were free of the overpowering AC of the science building for less than a minute before the task you decided never needed to happen, happened. Against your will, of course.

“Wait up!” Your steps faltered for a second at the sound of Viktor’s voice calling after you. You ignored him, continuing as if you hadn’t heard. He shouted your name, “I know you can hear me!”

You stopped staring at the hot sidewalk for a moment. No. You had somewhere to be, things to do. You shook your head without turning around and kept walking.

“If you take one more step, you’re ableist!” He shouted, out of breath.

You froze and turned slowly to look at him, jaw hanging open, “That is not funny.”

“Got you to stop didn’t it,” He panted, closing the distance between you, he knocked his cane against the side of your calf, “And, I do believe running from a man with a cane can be considered ableist.”

“First of all, I am not running from you,” You lied, looking up at him. You stepped a half inch to the side, using his shadow to block your eyes from the sun, “And second, if I happened to be running from you, it certainly is not because you use a mobility aid.”

“Okay Miss PC,” He rolled his eyes, “Doesn’t matter why, if I deem it ableist, it is.”

You opened your mouth to argue, floundering for what to say. You don’t remember him being this infuriating at the party.

“Exactly,” He said as you snapped your jaw closed.

“Viktor,” You sighed, “What do you want?”

He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, tilting his head at you. He gave a soft laugh, “I have been waiting all weekend to hear you say my name.”

Breathing would have been easier if he punched you. You blinked up at him, watching him watch you.

“I’m sorry, can I…” He looked around, noticing that other students were leaving the building as their classes ended. You two were standing in the dead center of the sidewalk and in the late summer heat his pale cheeks were already turning pink, “Can we just talk for a second, please?”

He didn’t wait for you to respond before he stepped off the main path and began walking into the flower garden. The dry gravel crunched under his shoes as he walked, the sound amplified in your brain as you followed after him. He settled under a latticed arch, the honeysuckle vines that snaked around it shading you both from the midday sun. 

“I’m sorry,” You said, frowning at him.

“For what?” He asked, face confused.

For running away. For not asking your name. For leaving. For joining your class.

“I don’t know.” Was all you could manage.

“You know, apologies lose a lot of their value if you don’t know what you're apologizing for,” He narrowed his eyes, voice almost scolding.

“I..I know, I’m sorry.”

“You say sorry too much,” He laughed, shaking his head, he didn’t look upset, “It’s very American of you.”

“Well, I am American,” You pointed out, letting yourself laugh softly with him, “I’m sorry for that too,” You joked.

“Well, let me apologize?” He asked, “I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable in class, it truly was not my intention.”

That was an apology. A real and true apology.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” You shook your head, “Fuck, if anyone had a right to feel weird, it was you.”

He tilted his head in question.

“I mean, it was your class first,” You told him, “I just kinda…showed up.”

“Did you join the class because I was in it?” 

“Well, no,” You laughed softly, “How could I have, I didn't even know your name.”

“That’s true,” He scoffed, “I regret that, by the way, I should have asked your name. Not very polite to ask after having sex with someone.”

“Eh, it happens to the best of us,” You shrugged, liking the laugh he gave you in response.

“Well, I am glad I know now,” He told you, eyes moving across his face, he smirked, “It’s a pretty name.”

“Hm, thanks, I like yours quite a lot as well,” You smiled up at him, the step closer he took didn’t go unnoticed, “It suits you, almost as much as Pretty Boy.”

“Thank you,” He smiled down at you, chewing on the inside of his cheek. 

“What?” You could tell there was something else he wanted to say.

“Can I take you out?” He asked, taking a nervous breath, “I know we kinda did this in a backwards manner, but I…you are very interesting to me, I would like to take you out properly.”

Your stomach twisted. Your chest felt like it was caving in.

“No,” You said, head shaking slightly as you offered a sad smile. The unexpected hurt that flashed in his eyes killed you.

“Oh, um,” He stumbled over his words, clearly taken aback by your refusal, he tried to step away, “Okay.”

“Hey wait,” You reached out, grabbing his wrist before you could escape, “Listen, it’s not you.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, begging you not to embarrass him any further with a cliche line.

“Really, I swear,” You urged, not letting go until he stepped back towards you, “I just… I don’t date classmates. I don’t sleep with classmates. Even if I want to. It causes problems, it makes class awkward, and I can’t risk my GPA just because I find someone attractive.”

He hummed to himself, nodding as he took in your words.

“So…” He reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, the same way he did when you were straddling his lap, “You’re saying you find me attractive?”

You resisted the urge to lean into his palm, instead you grabbed his wrist and pulled his lingering hand away from your face, “Don’t do that.”

“I’m confused, you’ve already slept with me? So what does it matter?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you. He was so fucking handsome you wanted to scream.

“Because, at the time, we weren’t classmates.” You explained like it was obvious.

“Okay, so let me get this straight, you will be in a relationship - sexual or romantic - with someone as long as they aren't an active classmate?” He asked, lip curling up in confusion, “But if they were a past classmate, or in our case, a future classmate, it's fine?”

“Exactly,” You shrugged, “I think that’s perfectly reasonable.”

“That’s actually very unreasonable.” He told you, “And also does not make much sense to me.”

“Well, good thing it’s a rule for myself.” You huffed, “You don’t have to understand, you just have to respect it.”

“So, if we were in separate classes, would you go out with me?” He asked.

“Probably, yes.” You admitted.

“But not now, because we are in the same class.”

“Yes, exactly.”

“So, if I ask you when the class is over, you’d say yes?” He leaned towards you, probing.

“Maybe.” You shrugged, “Who’s to say you won’t hate me by the end of the semester?”

“Well, considering you seem to be friends with the only people I know at this school, that would be rather unfortunate.” His voice lowered at the end, he was closer to you know. Very much within kissing distance. Right now there was nothing more you wanted than to feel his lips against yours. You know they’d be cool in comparison to the stagnant summer air.

You didn’t. Instead, you took a step back, and shoved your hand out into the distance between you, “Friends and classmates? Can you do that?” You asked, he studied your hand like the offer was written on it, then sighed.

“Fine, I can respect your rules,” He took your hand in his, firm and strong and cold, “Friends and classmates…for now.”

He moved his index finger softly across the inside of your wrist as he held your hand, goosebumps sprinting up your arm. You carried that feeling with you for the rest of the day.

[bisexualbrainrots]

Return the Favor

did it just write angst in fluffebuary? yes yes I did, but it's all because of this gifset that compelled me to.

cw: major character injury, vomit, blood.

“Guess I finally got to return the favor, huh?”

Howie smiled at him, one of those smiles that turned him into the brightest light in the room, and grabbed harder at his shoulder as they managed to walk towards an exit point of the building. Howie laughed softly, a healing sound that would normally make him smile too.

But right now all Tommy could focus on was the amount of blood that adorned his friend’s (Could he still call him friend?) face. 

Lines that had rolled down the left side of his face, mixing with the dirt and grime. Thankfully, they had discarded anything more serious than a scalp laceration, but it was still worrying.

Tommy will always worry about Howie, no matter what.

“Took you long enough, I was beginning to think we’d always be in debt,” a small cough left his throat after he chuckled, which made Tommy stop dead in his tracks “I’m okay, we probably inhaled a ton of dust in there.”

Everything started at a factory. A fire that quickly turned into a second alarm that called for multiple stations, the 118 and 217 included. Tommy guessed it was luck that picked him for ground work that shift, but Howie would probably say it was fate.

He hopes it wasn’t, because otherwise Tommy couldn’t understand why fate would collapse a story that was clear and bring both of them down, making them fight for their lives.

Fate was confusing.

Tommy sighed and they continued their walk towards safety, the roaring sounds of firefighters signaling where to find them.

“Hey, Tommy… thank you.”

Howie looked at him with a fondness he thought would never reappear, which made Tommy get a funny feeling in his chest. He really didn’t want to start crying in front of Howie.

“I know it was… wrong of me to drop you after Buck—”

“You didn’t drop me Howie, you… you did what any friend would do.”

Howie shook his head, leaning in to get a closer look at Tommy’s face “You were my friend too, Tommy. Still are,” he held the hand that was resting on his waist, giving it a squeeze “I just hope you can forgive me for that.”

He took a deep breath, or as deep as he could when he was holding Howie “You don’t have to apologize for anything, after all—” Tommy’s smile widened as he took in the view of familiar faces, minus one he found out wasn’t in the state anymore, and bumped his hip with Howie to get his attention, pointing with his head “Would you look at that, seems like someone was looking for you.”

He should’ve guessed they’d be in the front lines. Tommy wonders how many protocols and orders the 118 disobeyed to get to them. It must’ve been a ton, but he guessed they didn’t give a damn.

“We’ll always look for each other.”

Tommy loved that about them.

He let go of Howie the closer they got to the rest, and patted him on the shoulder before giving him a gentle push towards the awaited reunion. Tommy stood as his friend was being pulled into a warm embrace by Bobby, Hen and… Evan. They were all so happy, he could even spot tears in Bobby’s eyes that threatened to come out.

They were all reunited again, as they were meant to be. Tommy watched from a distance, a tired but big smile on his face that rejoiced on the family he once had, the family he could've had.

He supposed it was good he was out of the picture, after all, he never truly felt like he belonged anywhere.

Okay, that was a lie, he did belong to a place and to a person, he was just too scared to let Evan belong to him.

He held his hands on his knees, chest heaving, feeling more tired thanks to the adrenaline finally running its course. His chest expanded as much as he could, lungs begging for air he tried to get in as best as they let him.

He could hear his heart in his ears, though he supposed it had to do with the fact that Evan was looking at him, a faint smile on his lips.

A smile that faded as soon as Tommy threw up and fell on his knees.

“T-tommy!”

This is normal, it's just the adrenaline fading, you're okay. You're okay.

He was in fact, not okay. 

Tommy wanted to rest so bad, to lay on the ground and take a nap, but his former family around him made it harder for him to let go. 

“Tommy, Tommy c'mon look at me, What hurts?”

He didn't even notice the grunts, his ears feeling like he had cotton stuffed in them, unable to listen to anything other than his rapid heartbeat and labored breathing. 

He tried, though, the best he could despite the fact that even speaking had become a hardship, “My stomach…” he didn't mention the fact that it had been hurting since he woke up after the collapse, he didn't even mention to Howie that rubble had fallen on him when they fell.

They laid him on the ground, Hen hurried to open his turnouts and Howie did a quick assessment of his injuries. He wanted to get them off him, tell them there was no reason to panic yet, that they had to focus on Howie. But if breathing was already complicated, talking wasn't much better. 

A warm pair of hands held one of his and he turned his head, finding Evan and his even warmer smile that any other day would've made him melt. But the fear in his eyes was making it harder.

He wanted to lean closer, to caress his cheek and tell him everything was going to be okay.

That was the idea, until Hen pulled his shirt upwards and everyone seemed to stop breathing at once, Evan's hold tightening.

Bobby barked instructions at someone, saying something about immediate assistance and getting them an ambulance ASAP.

“W-what…” he tried to look and exhaled when he saw his belly. From what he could see, a purple and red puddle had formed on his abdomen, which made sense why it hurt so much “Oh… right, the rubble.”

Howie turned his face to him, the same panic Evan had in his eyes “You had… Tommy, why didn't you tell me?”

He smiled faintly, tired, way too tired “You have… people, Howie… I, I couldn't let you die.”

Howie's eyes glistened, his brows pulled together as he blinked rapidly and got to work, putting on a pair of gloves (When did he get the gloves?) and palpated the area, getting an immediate wince and hiss in response.

“You have people too,” he heard Evan mutter, his head ducked.

Tommy gave him a weak smile. Evan was so sweet, even when he didn’t deserve that from him anymore.

He stroked his hand with his thumb, pretending for one second that Evan’s words were true. Their eyes met, and Tommy gulped when he noticed his ex had begun to tear up. He hated to be the reason behind his tears, regardless of the situation he had found himself in.

“I’ve got a collar,” he heard Hen shout (When had she left?) and in less than 5 seconds the thing was wrapped around his neck, and he huffed in frustration to the restraint he felt because of it.

“This is… stupid… I don’t need—”

“Will you just let us help? Tommy rubble fell on you, you are not okay,” Evan’s exasperated tone made him shrink. An overwhelming wave of emotions rushed through him, which probably showed on his face given the quick way in which Evan’s expression softened “Sorry, sorry it’s just… let us help, please.”

Despite priding himself on the way he would help others without giving it a second thought, he had never been good at accepting help. Even with something so obvious as getting a cold, where help has to practically be forced onto him. With Evan though, he could never say no, his stubborn ass never giving up a fight to help him.

He took a breath and supposed there was nothing he could do, not when Evan was involved “... Okay.” He nodded slowly, his eyes fluttering shut as he felt his body being transported into something, probably a gurney.

He was way too tired to care.

“... hey, hey, open your eyes Tommy,” Howie’s voice brought him back long enough to get a feel of the gurney he was resting in. It was softer than he thought, or maybe the sleepiness was making him sink into it better. Whatever was the case, he was comfortable.

“Bu’ ‘m sleepy” he frowned. God he felt like a child again, being woken up by his mother on a school day.

He just wanted 5 more minutes.

“You’ll get to sleep once the doctors have checked you out, baby.”

Tommy perked up at the pet name. He looked for him and found those perfect blue eyes staring at him, his lips turned upwards in an attempt of a smile to give to Evan.

He was enchanted by those eyes. The way all of his attention was one them the first time they got to have a minute to talk alone. He wanted to swim in them, swim in that ocean of sweetness and craziness that called him in. He forgot he didn’t know how to swim though, not until he was sinking down and fearing that he had fallen without a lifesaver.

He supposed that was it, fear. Fear that constantly pulled him into a self-preservation mode, fear that made him sabotage every good thing he ever had, fear that made him unable to tell Evan that he loves him.

Shit, he loves him.

“Baby…” he called out, looking for his hand as they pulled him into the ambulance.

“I’m still here Tommy, I’m always here,” the strong grip of Evan’s hand on his was comforting, just like the movement of the ambulance that rocked him like a baby.

He was feeling cold though.

Tommy took a deep breath and looked at Evan, “I need… to tell you… that I—” whatever words he was meant to say were not there anymore, a sudden stop in his consciousness that had him closing his eyes and closing himself to the world.

The last thing he heard was Howie saying something about their debt. 

Maybe fate wanted this, as payback for the strip mall. Maybe this is how it was meant to be. Maybe he was always supposed to die with Howie by his side.

Fate didn’t count on the fact that Evan Buckley, his Evan, would be put by his side too. Didn't count on the fact that he would never bend to its will. It didn’t count on the fact that he was probably on top of him performing CPR by now, not that Tommy was aware of it anymore.

Damn it, he cursed out at fate, Why didn’t you let me say it?

Though he supposed it was fine, at least he wasn’t going through this alone.

He did hope they’d manage to save him on time.

Evan still owed him that beer.

[willowcried]

being quinnie’s little lapdog.

the auditorium.

the only place she allowed you to talk to her at school. anywhere else was completely prohibited. she told you that on day one.

if you tried to talk to her in the hallways, she wouldn’t even acknowledge you. you learned that the hard way, when she left you there like an wet puppy while she walked past, barely sparing you a glance. you didn’t think she was actually serious.

she would apologize later, sure—murmuring quiet sorry, baby’s while kissing your stupid face, as she usually called it, curling her fingers around the collar of your sweater before making you lose it. that’s when she’d let herself be soft, let her nails drag gently along your jaw, let her voice drop into something warm, something just for you. she’d kiss you slow, teasing, until your head spun, until your hands trembled where they held onto her waist.

and then, just when you thought she might actually mean it—just when you thought maybe she felt something real—she’d pull away with that knowing smirk, dragging her thumb across your kiss-dazed lips harshly before fixing her cardigan like nothing happened.

you understood, though.

she was hurt after puckerman, obviously. she needed control back in her life. she needed this—you—on her terms. not because she liked having you as a pet.

that’s what you told yourself, anyway.

today, she’s late. your fingers nervously drum on the random seat you chose in the big auditorium. glancing at your cellphone for the third time, your leg bounces up and down but you hate skipping class. even though she was the reason why you did it, your mind was stressed, thinking about the missing lessons just for quinn.

of course it had its perks, though. depending on your luck, sometimes she was nice, running her fingers through your hair the way you liked, teasing you about your sweater choices, calling you cute in that whispery voice that made your brain short-circuit.

other times, she was mean. distant. late on purpose, like she wanted to see how long you’d wait before you gave up.

this seems to be the case today as she flings the door open, storming towards you with that look on her face that pretty much terrifies you. she stops in front of you, and you barely have time to open your mouth before— “what the hell is wrong with you?”

you blink. “i—what?”

she exhales sharply, rolling her eyes, like you’re exhausting her. like she doesn’t have you completely lost, going through your folder of memories to figure out what you did wrong.

“you know what, nerd.”

except you don’t.

quinn sighs, tilting her head back like she’s trying to rein herself in, and when she looks at you again, her eyes are sharp, expectant. “why were you looking at me in class?”

your lips part in realization. that’s what this was about? the stupid rules? “i wasn’t trying to—”

her eyes narrow. “so you admit it.”

shit.

“i’m sorry. i won’t do that again.” you swallow, voice quieter now. “i just liked the way you did your hair today.” you point with your index finger, suddenly hyperaware of how warm your face feels. “with the yellow— the little flower.”

“stupid. they could’ve found out.”

she always said that. you still didn’t understand how could a person connect so many dots by just one look. the no-talking- in-the-halls rule was understandable, but not being able to look at her?

you don’t say a thing about your thoughts, though. you know better.

“i’m really sorry, q.” you tug on her hand, pulling her closer to you until she’s standing between your legs.

you stare up at her, squeezing her hand when she doesn’t say anything after a beat—two beats, trying to get her to talk to you. it’s nonsense. you know it. she knows it, but that doesn’t stop her from remaining silent for another moment, just so she can look down at you some more, to make you impatient.

and you do. but then, just as you’re about to apologize again, quinn huffs, shaking her head. “idiot.”

before you can react, she’s on you. it’s sudden, the way she slants her mouth over yours, her hands gripping the back of your neck to pull you into her. you barely have time to adjust to the heat of her lips before she’s straddling you, sliding into your lap with ease, her body pressing against yours, drawing out of your throat the tiniest, most embarrassing sound against her lips while your fingers curl around her hips instinctively.

your glasses fog up from the rush of your breaths, but she’s quick enough to pull them on top of your head effortlessly the second they start getting in the way without breaking the kiss. her hands cradle your face, fingers threading into your hair as she deepens it.

[saintvainglorious]

Fics I Enjoyed in January - DC Comics Fic Rec List Part 2

I am still neck-deep in DC fandom this month and the fics have been so so good. Unlike last time, I am too tired to write mini summaries/reviews, so I'm going to feature my favorite quote from each fic instead.

My first DC Comics fic rec list is here!

Floor Plans by @oh-mother-of-darkness (Teen & Up, 1k, 2016) “I really didn’t want to die,” he finished. “I was kind of hoping if I laid here long enough, I would remember what that felt like.”

Losing two brothers in six months takes an emotional toll.

almost right by @bitimdrake (Teen & Up, 3k, 2020) He desperately wishes that he didn’t know what Dick’s cheekbone feels like under a gauntleted fist.

Bruce sucks in a breath, hand raising to fix the cowl. Dick flinches back.

but more with love by @danishsweethearts (Teen & Up, 3k, 2022) Dick wakes up one morning, groggy from a dream that he thinks might’ve been about the circus and also about his favourite car and also about how lonely he is, and realizes that he can’t remember what his mother’s voice sounds like anymore.

O Robin, Robin, wherefore art thou Robin?

The Mechanics of a Hug by @sohotthateveryonedied (General Audiences, 4k, 2017) “You know… that crushing sense of depression? Like,” Dick chews his lip. “It’s. A physical weight. Makes it hard to breathe?” “Yeah,” Tim says, soft. He smiles, wryly. “I sort of hoped you didn’t, though.”

“So,” Tim ventures. “It's… what, a cuddle pollen?” Bruce just shrugs. “Something like that.”

No Pain, All Gain by @sohotthateveryonedied (General Audiences, 1k, 2020) Tim’s eyes go even wider. “You stole my organs?” “Technically,” Jason chimes in, “the doctors stole your organs. We just gave them permission.”

Bruce checks Tim’s IV. “Are you in any pain? Do you need more morphine?” Tim’s pupils are so wide that only the faintest ring of blue can be seen. He watches Bruce the way a five-year-old watches cartoons. “I’m all good, B-dog. All Gucci, like we cool teens say." His words are slurred almost beyond recognition, but Tim doesn’t seem to notice or care. "I could fight Superman right now.”

The Wind Sits in the Shoulder of Your Sail by @birdchildsnest (Teen & Up, 7k, 2020) “Oh my god. Bruce. I can’t even tell if you’re serious. When everybody finally eats the rich—they’re going to eat you first.”

At least, back then, Tim had barely been a teenager. He could almost forgive his own volatility. And he’d been smart enough (scared enough?) not to tell Jack that he didn’t need him. What was his excuse now? Bruce was his dad (at least, in the legal sense), but (surprise, surprise) it turned out that Tim wasn’t any better at being a son. Or Tim and Bruce still have some things to sort through after the adoption.

I Left My Conscience On Your Front Doorstep by @dustorange (Teen & Up, 21k, 2022) He doesn’t want to be loved if being loved is like this.

"I think I'm leaving," Dick whispers. "I think I'm not coming back."

bad boys bad boys (whatcha gonna do) ♫ by @drakefeathers (Teen & Up, 20k, 2014) "They live their lives thinking they can charge through the city with the right to hurt and kill and destroy as many lives as they want. And they do it all without a shred of remorse." “But—” Damian begins, brow furrowed in confusion. “Isn’t that like you?”

a Jason and Damian as Batman and Robin AU!! featuring a bunch of graffiti, a rival dynamic duo, and Cat Jason (a cat named Jason).

The Biggest Mistake by @oh-mother-of-darkness (General Audiences, 1k, 2016) “I could ground him anyway, if it would make you feel better.” “He only said it because I called him ‘a garbage can so ineffective it actually became garbage.’”

"You know what really needs to be addressed? Bruce's truly terrible treatment of Damian." -Me, on a daily basis

been a number and a name by @wynterstars (Teen & Up, 35k, 2023) “Turns out if you just say ‘spacetime’ until people’s eyes glaze over they don’t really question anything you say. Also, somehow nobody expects me to be able to actually do enough math to explain it.”

On a field trip, Robin has a close encounter with the newest super in Metropolis, only to discover the hard way that Superboy secretly works for Lex Luthor. They agree to work together on a plan to free Superboy from Luthor’s hold, but Robin isn’t sure how far he can trust him—and his developing feelings only make things more complicated.

clean it like you mean it by @wynterstars (Teen & Up, 70k, 2024) "Wait, ugh, you're not my dead dad, right? If I'm getting a dying vision of my dead dad I want a do-over because he suuuuucked."

When Gotham's crooks have to scrub down their lairs, who do they call? Jason Todd, Gotham's first and only underworld crime scene cleaning specialist. He's spent his life dodging the Bat, but after a chance encounter he saves Robin's life. Tim Drake finds himself drawn to the conflicted rogue, and soon Jason becomes Robin's street informant. But they can only stay on opposite sides of the law for so long before something breaks.

3:16 by @wufflesvetinari (Teen & Up, 70k (WIP), 2023) “Try to decouple one thing from the other. I’m proud of you, but ice cream isn’t my grand statement about whether you’ve been good or bad today. Good things are good. Happiness is precious. Sometimes you just want caramel chocolate chip.”

The knife pushes thin along Dick’s carotid artery, cupping the indent between neck and jawline—forcing him to angle his chin. The metal is warm, pulled with execution speed from under Damian’s pillow. “Okay,” Dick says quietly, tracking the intricacies of his own heartbeat—counting the space between breaths. “Guess I did need a shave.” (With faltering steps, Dick and Damian become Batman and Robin.)

wolf-king of rome by @mysterycitrus (Not Rated, 25k, 2024) “You go after Joker, but you don’t kill him, because it’s not about the Joker dying, it’s about Bruce breaking his code for you. It’s about Bruce loving you enough to change himself for the worse. It’s about your idea of grieving.”

Jason doesn’t fear Dick Grayson. Fear itself has changed shape for him, since his return from the Pit - it tastes of dirt in his mouth, of drowning, of fire and blood and laughter, more than a tangible face. Still, he’d be stupid not to be cautious. Dick liked playing on an uneven field, and would do anything to keep him off balance, so he just had to stay focused. That’s the nature of the armistice, both waiting for the other to make a move. It’s like balancing on the head of a pin.

Declensions by @dustorange (Teen & Up, 13k, 2018) “Do not tell them your name. Do as I did to survive. I lied. I have always lied. Make one up. Do not let them have you. Say your name is…is…is…Richard Grayson. Or something. They are going to steal you; do not give them anything to steal.”

“My father,” Dick says, “worked the rope. It cut him. His hands were never clean.”

Passiontide by @bigdvmnhero (Teen & Up, 5k, 2025) Despite its faults, the day had tried to be good. He felt young, like someone's son.

On the 96th day Bruce didn't call, Dick remembered their old game. Three things he knew: 1) In three months, it would be Dick's death anniversary; 2) Bruce was still missing his check-ins; 3) Here Dick was, persisting. Imagine the things I'd survive, Dick thought distantly, if I loved Bruce less. Or: Agent 37 and his various crises of faith, on Day 277 at Spyral, Day 150, and Day -0.

the time you won your town the race by @silverwhittlingknife (Teen & Up, 4k (WIP), 2022) Tim. Tim is Dick’s. Death sharpens, clarifies these things. Who will receive the body, decide on the funeral, receive condolences, make all the decisions that matter. No one has questioned it, not even Tim’s friends. There’s a terrible clarity about death. If Dick said, let’s burn everything he owned, Alfred would do it.

He doesn’t know exactly what Tim would say. But he knows what Tim would do. Tim dies. Dick doesn’t take death for an answer. A Red Robin 12 AU.

door, opening by @cowboysorceror (Mature, 70k (WIP), 2024) Dick, with the keys to every locked door Jason has ever tried to open, tucked inside the cradle of his skull; all of that, snuffed out like a candle.

It’s barely audible, but he knows what he heard. A short, four-note whistle, chirping down – E, C#, then jumping up to A, F#, a little trill on the finish. He waits a moment, head turned slightly towards the dim shapes of storage containers between him and the ramp, eyes straining against the blackness. Long, stretching seconds. There it is again. His gloved hand, prickling with cold, closes into a fist. It’s a wood thrush. A small North American songbird that doesn’t sing at night, doesn’t live in the city. He knows what it means. It means hold, steady, not yet. It means wait for me, I’m behind you.

[seilon]

well I finished it. you know someone in one of my classes the other day was talking about how the final edit of this show cut out a fair amount of content for the sake of sticking to netflix’s time limit and how you can kind of just Feel that void when you watch it. and i understand now

[nezuscribe]

𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you find yourself in a marriage that you never wanted in the first place. your husband seems to hate you and you begin to wonder if anything you used to think of him was even true. who would have though a marriage to gojo satoru would be so difficult?

warnings: 18+ mdni, arranged marriage, misunderstandings and just not talking shit out, mentions of cheating, slight angst (with comfort), eating out (fem! receiving), fingering, gojo doesn't really know how to husband for some of it

word count: 10.9K (whoops)

note: part two is up! i really had a lot of fun writing this so reblogs and comments are always appreciated! as always, thank you to @jadeisthirsting for beta reading <3

jjk masterlist

never did you think that you’d be stuck in a marriage to a man who didn’t love you, but there’s a first for everything. 

you should count yourself lucky that he’s not old and bald. he’s pretty. in fact, he’s the prettiest man you’ve ever seen. his eyes are the bluest, bluer than the sky. his hair mirrors the winter snows, and his back ripples with muscles whenever he fights. 

his agility is unlike any other man. he fights swiftly and cleanly, never taking more than a couple minutes to get rid of whatever it was that stood in his way. he’s charming with his words (or so you’ve heard), and he knows how to make somebody swoon if he really wants them to. 

and he seems to despise you.

you had known gojo since you were a child, the two of you running around each other's fields as you chased him with your wooden sword. you remembered watching him in training, wishing him good luck whenever he went on a hunt. you could even remember how he would stutter whenever he tried to talk, something he must have worked on because he never seemed to stutter anymore. 

he was always nice to you, his cheeks rosy whenever you kissed him goodbye. he was kind back then, grinning brightly whenever he saw you. 

but as time grew and you with it, and it was only a matter of years before the two of you went your separate ways. it didn’t help that once he turned thirteen he had to leave for training and fighting in whatever it was that was needed of him, but you had hoped that he would be able to write back. 

you would send him letters whenever you could, it was tradition whenever the two of you were separated for too long to do so. each letter telling him about new experiences and embarrassing things that happened in your life, but he never responded. you liked to send one every week, sometimes including little tokens you thought he might enjoy. but you stopped sending them after the first two years and stopped asking about his whereabouts after three. 

but you were hopeful that when you saw him that night so many months ago, he’d be civil with you. you were nervous, sure, but who could blame you? you had recently gotten news that his time to serve his clan was over and that he was finally back home. it wasn’t as though the two of you had left on bad graces, so you were hopeful that he would at least remember you. but he could barely meet your eyes whenever you tried to catch him from across the room, acting as if you had never existed. 

he looked so different since the last time you had seen him. he was taller than most of the people in the room, his white hair just as bright as it used to be. he had gained muscle mass almost everywhere, and you felt yourself wondering just how much training he had to go through to look this way. you could see him talking to a girl, a smile on his face as he tilted his head to look at her better. you gave him some time to socialize, not wanting to intrude on anything. 

after an hour you decided that it was long enough, and tried to weave your way through the crowd to get to him. you had tried to call out to him, waving to him despite your mother quickly shoving your hand down, saying how improper it was. he heard you and you knew that he was purposely ignoring you, so you began to feel heavy-hearted after a couple of attempts at trying to catch his attention, eventually giving up. 

and now, despite you wanting to, you can’t even blame him for hating you. 

ever since your mother caught you, alone with him, a man you hadn’t seen in so long, she had swiftly and promptly proposed the idea of marriage only a few days later. it was really to save face for the two families, but it helped that this marriage would unify the two clans. 

you were sure he had ladies lined up to marry him, and you weren’t somebody he was actively trying to pursue. you didn’t even know if he was in love with somebody else if he shared a connection with a girl who was surely not you and cursed you for taking that away from him. 

not that it mattered now. 

all you wanted was to reconcile, to catch up on all the things happening in your lives. you wanted to hear all the stories he must have racked up over the years, not for this to happen. all the things he wanted for himself were ripped away because of one night from one simple act of kindness, and so you couldn’t find it in yourself to hate him for the way he acted.

you rarely come down for dinner whenever he’s there, but when you do, you feel those eyes turn icy, tracking your every movement till you sit down opposite of him. he doesn’t say much, just mutters a quiet “good evening” and you’re sure he’s only doing it so the maids don’t start to gossip. 

whenever your hand brushes his you feel him snap back, flexing his hand as though your touch burned him. he rarely came by to ask you about how you felt, and so you stopped trying to act kindly towards him if he didn’t want anything to do with it.

any semblance of romance you had dreamed of as a young girl quickly dissipated when you realized your husband wanted nothing to do with you, so you didn’t try to pursue any sort of love, deciding it’d be easier if he just did his part and you did yours so the two clans wouldn’t worry. 

he was always gone, which might be the best for the two of you. when he’s not training new men then he’s gone in a hunt. if he’s not in a hunt then he’s somewhere in his endless home, hiding away. 

you don’t know if he does this for him, for your sake, or for everybody else. 

“did you see your husband this morning?” one of your maids said excitedly as she tugged the undergarments over your raised arm, a gleeful smile on her face as she rambled about something gojo had done. you couldn’t help but return a smile of your own, although it didn’t quite meet your eyes. 

“yes, briefly. he’s busy with having to worry about the feast,” which wasn’t a total lie. you’d seen him hurriedly brush past you, quickly glancing at you as if he had forgotten you were his wife. you felt your chest tighten up with the way he glanced at your hand, and then quickly left. 

it was only a few nights away and you knew that it was the only buzz of news anybody seemed to talk about. unfortunately, for you, it meant having to socialize with other clans. you were fine with that aspect, you’d been doing it since you were young, but this time they had a right to be nosey. you knew there would be endless questions asked about the honeymoon stage of your marriage, to which you had no answer. 

sure, you’d been making up answers to hypothetical questions, but you didn’t know what gojo would be answering with, so you were only praying some of your responses would line up. 

for a night the two of you would have to pretend to be husband and wife, and while the people around you knew you were anything, you knew you had to commit to the role for the sake of you and your family’s dignity. 

but all this worrying isn’t good for your head, you could already feel the pang as you squeezed your eyes to try and get rid of it. you tried to move on from your worries, going to comment on her necklace, it seemed new, but a knock interrupted you. the two of your heads popped up, looking at where the sound came from. 

“come in!” you called out, buttoning up the last bits of your top as you thanked myra. she nodded, bowing as she went to open the door. you could hear her faint footsteps, not bothering to look up as she greeted the person behind. you guessed it was franchesca coming with the fabric samples. 

“sir,” you heard myra say, and your head swirled around, only to see the topic of your conversation make his way into your room, excusing your maid with a swift motion of his hand. she glanced once at you and then to him, ducking her head as she left, closing the door behind her as she left you two alone. 

you felt heat prickle at the back of your neck as he looked at you and then to your room. the two of you slept separately, as per your request the first night. you couldn’t bear the agonizing silence between the two of you, and he obliged. 

he was dressed for sparring. he had a loose-fitting tunic on, and pants that would allow him to move freely and without constraint. it was in moments like these that you were reminded of the fact that gojo was the strongest warrior that any of the clans had seen, that the child who once splurged on sugar in his tea was capable (and has done so before) of taking down entire armies. 

he had matured so much since what you last remembered from him. he no longer acted rashly nor spoke without thinking about what it was he wanted to say. but you still saw him eating sweets with the same fervor he did as a kid, and it never failed to make you smile, hiding it behind your hand so nobody could hear your quiet giggle. 

it had been a while since it was just the two of you, alone, and all you could think about was that night. your cheeks heated up just thinking about it, and it seemed that gojo could tell your discomfort with the way he cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair as he began to speak. 

“good morning,” he started, his eyes darting around, never setting on yours. it was funny if it didn’t cause your heart to hurt irrevocably, at how the strongest warrior in all the land could barely look at his wife. 

if only you knew.

“good morning.” you offered him a quick, disingenuous smile, moving around until you found your vanity, rummaging through your laid-out earrings as you kept your back to him, not trusting your face to give you away if you were to look at him for too long. 

you heard him take in an audible breath, but he continued whatever it was he wanted to say. 

“with the feast coming up, i want to clear some things with you,” you turned around, looping the earrings in as you nodded for him to continue. it was such a shame he was so stunning, effortlessly attractive as the sun caught off his cheekbones, bouncing off of his chest. he rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, and you wondered if being here was just as painfully awkward for him as it was for you. 

“we should act like we’re…” he trailed off and you felt yourself itching to leave, knowing what he meant without having to say it. 

“in love?” you finished and he slowly nodded, gnawing on his lip as you brushed past him, going to find the mirror so you could adjust your jewelry. you could see him fidgeting in the corner, and for once you could see a hint of nervousness and unease on his features. 

and a part of you hurt. you would never admit out loud that you harbored a crush on him for as long as you could remember. it hurt knowing that you acting like you were in love was perhaps the lost genuine form of love you could show. 

“what if they ask about the night we met?” you ask after a couple of seconds, looking up from what you were doing. deep down, you knew somebody was bound to ask. even if it was just your mother who had caught the two of you alone in that garden, the news of it somehow spread (she was always one to talk). 

he scratches his head, shrugging as he eventually settles on an idea.

“just tell them the truth.” 

the truth. 

tell them how he followed you after you had run outside, sick to your stomach after a man, who was as old as your father, had introduced himself as a possible suitor. how gojo, the most ruthless warrior in all the land, had carefully put his hands on your back as you retched, offering you a towel he had fetched from inside to clean yourself up. 

tell them how you hadn’t seen him in years but the first thing you had done was to hug him tightly. how his hands wrapped around your back as though they were the only things keeping you afloat. perhaps they were. 

tell them how he murmured words in your hair to bring you back to reality, his thumb running up and down your arms to calm you down. how it seemed like even though it had been years since you two last saw each other, it felt so right, so normal, to be back in his arms. 

tell them how he had looked at you with such worry, such care, unlike anybody else had looked at you, and you for once felt safe in somebody’s arms. 

tell them how your mother found you two in such a compromising position, with your head nestled in his chest as he tried his very best to soothe your cries. it was humiliating and embarrassing to be caught with a man you had only seen back in your teenage years, and especially so in such a vulnerable position. 

you shake your head, scoffing at the idea, “i’ll just come up with something,” was your answer and he nods along, realizing how the story would be too private to share with people you barely knew.

“and we need a reason for why,” he cleared his throat once again, pink dusting on his cheeks as his eyes dropped to your stomach. your eyes met his in the mirror, and one of your eyebrows raised, “well, you’re not exactly looking like you’re carrying a child at the moment.” 

you quickly looked away, the tension in the room increasing as you moved away from the mirror, doing anything you could to keep your hands occupied. you flushed at the comment, your throat drying up as you glanced at your stomach.

the two of you have barely touched, much less been intimate with each other. you were glad he hadn’t forced the idea onto you, instead, leaving it to you to bring up the topic. you only talked about it, once, the night of the marriage, and then never again. you knew that it would have to happen eventually, but you couldn’t do it right now, not with your state of mind. 

you scrambled to say something. in all honesty, you had been dreading this question. you hadn’t been answering any of the letters your mother sent, and you knew people were expecting to hear the news of a pregnancy. 

“we’ll just say we’ve been so busy and preoccupied with the politics of marriage that we couldn’t… consummate.” you offered and he just shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as if this was the biggest inconvenience to him. 

you knew that this marriage was brought upon quickly and before either of you could object to it, but at least you tried to hide it away. if only he hadn’t acted so rashly that night, his hands on your shoulders, eyes bewildered as they racked over your figure. if only he had been more careful, or you were smarter in picking some place to be more concealed, you wouldn’t be put in this position. 

but neither of you was thinking ahead, and here you were. but he was certainly making sure that you knew of his contempt for this arrangement far more than you were. it was irritating, it scratched at your skin and ate away at your mind the more you saw each other.

“look,” he couldn’t take his eyes off of you, off of the way you were fiddling with the ring he had delicately placed on your hand so many weeks ago, “i can come up with whatever they ask, so just try your best to do the same.” you say, your voice tinged with anger, the ring on your finger acting as an anchor to the depths of the sea with the way it weighed down your movements, feeling your chest swell as he stayed silent, watching you as you opened the door. 

“i don’t-”

“um, i won’t be joining you for dinner, so don’t wait on me…i apologize, i need to work on some things for the feast…have a good day.” you swiftly murmured, shutting him in your own room as you left, your heart thumping erratically in your chest as you almost ran down the hallway. 

you had no idea how you were going to persuade the masses that this marriage was working if you couldn’t even persuade yourself. 

---

the feast of clans came earlier than you expected. 

you found yourself perched at the end of the table, gojo next to you, your stiff bodies mirroring each other as the people around you joyously helped themselves to the vast variety of food offered. 

you could barely touch the meal in front of you, your stomach churning uncomfortably with the sheer number of people that surrounded you. back home, you hated these feasts, opting to leave after a couple of bites and finish the rest of what you could pocket in your room, but here, as the clan leader's wife, you had no such luxury. 

“are you not hungry?” you looked to your side, gojo staring at your plate and then to you, his eyes squinting as he tried to decipher what you were feeling.

“i can’t eat,” you murmured, playing with your utensils as you swallowed thickly, “i don’t do well in large crowds.” 

he nodded once, looking out into the sea of bodies as he inched a little bit closer to you. he was donned in expensive fabrics, although his hair still messily fell all over. the candle that was lit in front of you had different hues of oranges and reds bouncing off of his pale skin, and if you didn’t know any better, the blush on his nose and cheeks could have been from the frigid winds from outside. 

“i’ll have myra save you a plate,” he said, giving you a curt smile as he went back to eating. 

you were momentarily taken aback by his comment, but tried not to show it, going back to fidgeting with your ring as you looked at the sea of people. nobody had thankfully come up to you and bombarded you with questions, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t going to eventually happen. 

“thank you,” you say, glancing at him and then back to your plate. 

“anything for my wife,” he replies. it’s only for show, you remind yourself, after all, when was the last time he referred to you as such? 

“gojo,” an old man had walked up to your table, his face lined with wrinkles and a beard, dressed in orange as he offered gojo his hand to shake, “i’m glad to see that you finally settled down.”

gojo blushed deeply, trying to offer him a smile as he motioned to you. 

“it’s hard to resist marriage when such a woman offers it.” he says, and you feel your eyes widen as you try to laugh off his statement. 

“yes,” the old man chuckles, eyeing the two of you. he looked familiar, and you were sure you had seen him around these sorts of gatherings before, “it was only a matter of time before it happened. we all knew just how much you liked her back when you were children.”

the two of you sputtered on your coughs, and you felt a little smile grow on your face as gojo did what he could to usher the man away. 

you could tell with the way he shifted uncomfortably in his seat that gojo wasn’t expecting that, and before you could realize what you were doing you found yourself talking. 

“i’m not a fan of feasts.” you quickly said, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop them. it’s not like you felt you owed him an explanation, but you said it regardless. 

gojo looked up from his plate, grabbing his cup so he could wash down his bite. 

“any feast?” he asked, and you could feel the way the air shifted. he was glad you brought up a different topic. 

“one’s as big as this,” you twisted your ring back and forth on your finger subconsciously, “i get nervous in big crowds.”

“i remember,” a small smile grew on his face as he thought back to when the two of you were children, “you would hide under the tables and force me to come with you.” 

you chuckled, blood rushing to your ears at the fact that he remembered this about you. it was the bare minimum of what you remembered from him, but you had convinced yourself that he had washed every memory of your last selves from his mind. 

a rush of distant memories came to your head; nights spent under the tables, laughing as you two tried to keep your voices down as you tried to dodge the feet. you could still hear his whispers of staying quiet, trying to sneak out so he could smuggle in some pastries for you to eat.

“the adults scared me; they were always loud and insistent on asking personal questions.”

“like they are now?” he replied back, a tilt in his voice as you nodded feverishly. 

“yes!” you covered your mouth with your hand as you let out a laugh, a genuine one as you tried to look as put together as you could, “i swear, it’s even worse than when we were young. just the other day a wet nurse came to me and told me the best positions to get into when giving birth!” it really was a mortifying moment, your eyes darting all around as the old lady even took it upon herself to demonstrate the movements, but gojo didn’t seem to mind, laughing along with you. his eyes twinkled as they took in your giggly state, years since he had last seen you like this. 

“i feel like i should apologize,” he starts, having to cover his own infectious smile as he ducks down his head in shame, “i had her sent up to your chambers.”

your mouth dropped open in shock, lightly smacking his arm as he grinned at the look on your face.

“to mortify me so that i would never leave?” your thumb moves your ring back and forth and gojo watches you as you do it. 

“you seemed sick at breakfast, but i guess she thought it was a different sort of sickness.” gojo tells you as he cuts off some of his meat, not knowing just how much his words affected you. 

you had forgotten how simple and easy conversations were with gojo. although this was under a guise to fool people, you felt at ease with him, as if you didn’t have to be on guard with your emotions when he was around. 

“do you still want to hide under the table now?” he asked a couple of seconds later, chewing on a potato as you shrugged, looking around before your lips grew into an apologetic smile. 

“…yes,” you admitted bashfully and he smiled at your honest response. 

“if you want to hide, i’ll-”

“satoru!” a booming voice interrupted your endless spiral of thoughts as the two of you glanced upwards at the sound, “it’s been too long!” 

a man with hair as dark as night and a smile wider than any ocean had come up to your table. he was the first one to do so all night, but gojo didn’t seem bothered by it. he seemed to smile, crescents forming around his eyes as he took his friend's hand.

“too long,” he emphasized with a charming grin, motioning to you and then back to the man in front of you as if he suddenly remembered the two of you and never met, “suguru, this is my wife, y/n. y/n, this is one of my oldest friends.” 

you extended your hand outwards and the man, suguru, took it, placing a soft kiss on the back of it as he shot you a playful smile. he wasn’t at the wedding, but then yet again, it was a rather quick one. the only people who had attended were your families. 

“it’s a pleasure to meet you.” he greeted, and you nodded in agreement, sitting back down next to gojo. you felt his long fingers reach for yours, enveloping your hand in his as your heart sputtered at the touch. 

“likewise,” you answered and the man grinned politely before he slightly tilted his head, looking at the two of you sitting next to each other. 

“he’s not bothering you, is he? i know satoru can be fiendish when he wants to be, so call for me and i’ll take care of him.” he teased and you could only smile tightly and laugh along, gojo’s fingers slightly tightening around yours as he moved your hand to rest on his thigh. 

“i can take care of him when he’s fiendish. i just have to take the sugar away, right?” suguru snorted and gojo glared, but it was playful the way he looked at you. 

his hands were warmer than you would have expected. you could feel the indents of calluses on his fingertips, could feel his thumb moving back and forth on your skin in a calming sort of manner. he didn’t look over at you as he did it, playing it off as second nature. 

“i apologize for not having much time to get to know you, but i have something i need to talk to gojo about. would you mind? it will only take a minute?” he asked, and gojo let go of your hand at the time of his friend's voice. you had to control your urge to roll your eyes, shifting in your seat as you motioned for suguru to talk to your husband, watching as he stood from his seat, leaving with the man as they went somewhere a little more secluded. 

you watched as gojo leaned down to hear whatever it was that suguru was whispering in his ear, pulling back with a frown on his face. he snapped something that only caused suguru to reel back, cast a quick glance at you, and then shake his head in clear annoyance. 

you saw gojo look up, his eyes landing on somebody from across the room, and you followed his stare, only to land on a girl. 

she wore a dark yellow tunic and skirt, colors from a neighboring clan. you hadn’t seen her before, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t known. just one look at the men surrounding her and you could pick up on their lovesick expressions. 

she motioned for gojo to come to her with a bend of her finger, slyly brushing her hair out of her face to make it look as though it was nothing, exiting from the dining area and vanishing into one of the halls. 

you looked down in case either of the men glanced over to see if you were staring. your eyes pierced through the meat on your plate, bile rising up your throat. 

you gave yourself some time, counting up to a minute before you looked back to where suguru and gojo were, finding suguru standing alone. you looked at where the girl was and saw a flash of white hair before it disappeared, your heart sinking as you glanced back at suguru, only to find him looking at you. 

you looked back at your plate, picking up a knife and fork as you stabbed the meat. you couldn’t keep anything down but it’s best to pretend.

---

gojo didn’t return until half an hour later, and you refused to talk to him. 

“did anybody bombast you with questions?” he teased, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. he didn’t seem to pick up on your darkened mood as your fingers dug into your dress. 

“i had a woman ask me if you had disappeared with your mistress, but that was it.” you remarked, silence filling the void between the two of you and you realized that all you had thought of him was crumbling down. 

you didn’t care for your image anymore, giving curt answers to any questions somebody had asked. you could feel his stare on the side of your face but you didn’t humor him in looking over, focusing on your plate instead. 

so what if he was seeing somebody else? you would have been naive to think that he wouldn’t wander. the two of you barely touched each other. 

once all the guests had left over the course of the following days, you did everything you could to steer away from gojo. 

you no longer came down for breakfast or dinner, choosing to eat in your own quarters. if he wanted to have his own secrets, he could do whatever he pleased. 

though you rarely saw suguru after the feast, he did try to talk to you the morning after it took place. he cornered you after you had left from breakfast, his once playful demeanor turned serious as you tried your best to end the conversation. 

“what you saw last night-”

“is none of my business,” you finished, raising your hand as you cut him off, “if gojo has his own private matters to deal with, i’m indifferent to them all.” 

“you know that’s not what it was.” his hand hovered over your arm, careful not to touch you but not wanting you to leave either. 

“i ruined his life, didn’t i?” you tilted your head a bit in questioning. after all, that’s all you could hear from the women who gossiped as they folded the laundry, or behind the hands of the girls who watched you and gojo interact and the mothers who wanted their daughters to be set up with him only sneered at you from across the tables. 

“you…where’d you get that from?” his brows scrunched together in confusion as you scoffed, hoping he couldn’t see the tears welling in the corner of your eyes at the sting of your own words. 

“i can see it on his face. if gojo wants to have his own affairs, he can have them. it’s not like we’re in love. hopefully, i find my own way out so that the two of us look happier and this marriage looks somewhat presentable to the public.” 

you didn’t want to see the look on his face, but you’re sure he reported this all back to gojo because he didn’t look at you once after it. 

you heard from a maid a week later that he was gone for another meeting with a clan, a southern one from what you picked up, and that you should probably go and wish him some luck. 

leading up to the night of his departure you anxiously paced around your room, your feet padding on the floor as your nightgown swished behind you. 

you hadn’t talked to gojo at all that day, and purposefully so. 

it was petty, you know it was, to not want to see him, but a part of you still aches when you look back on that night. at how he didn’t explain where he was even after you asked, at how it was suguru he had sent to fix his dirty work for him. 

“y/n?” a muffled voice came from outside your door. 

your head shot up at the familiar sound, quietly dragging yourself out from your bed as you grabbed the candle, hovering on the other side as you waited for him to say something else. 

“are you awake?” you heard a soft thud from his side, almost as if his head or arm had hit the door. 

you didn’t answer, still, waiting. 

“i’m leaving tomorrow and i wanted to see you before i left.” your heart skipped at his words, careful not to make a sound as you near the door. 

“if you’re sleeping i won’t bother you anymore but if you’re not,” you could hear the old stutter he had coming back, his words meshing together as he tried to regain control, “and you’re choosing to stay quiet, i…” he sighed, his forehead thumping down as he rested it on the door, “i wanted to apologize for the feast. i shouldn’t have left you alone, and if you’d open the door, i would explain why…” he could see the flicker of the candle from underneath the crack, and saw the way it blew away, darkness following suit. 

you walked back to your bed, turning your back to the door as you set the candle down on your table. 

“goodnight,” his voice was quieter than before, and you felt guilty, but pushed the bitter feeling down.

a couple of seconds later you heard him let out a sigh of defeat, his footsteps leading away from your bedroom as you curled into yourself, hoping you would let your heart stop taking control of what your head should be doing. 

---

gojo didn’t return for a while, and you grew more impatient by the day. 

it normally took him and his men a week at maximum, and once two had passed, you felt yourself growing uneasy. 

you tried to act as passive as you could, but even myra could pick up on your growing apprehension. you have never voiced your worries over your husband before, but she knew this wasn’t like any other time. 

when you went to bed, the only thing you could dream about was that night, your brain re-running the images as you tossed and turned. 

“are you alright?” he asked, his hands on your elbows as you could barely speak, your blurry vision impairing your sight. you could only see a mop of white in the darkness, your stomach betraying you as you tried to keep the sick down. 

“i don’t feel too good,” you mumbled, trying to put some distance between the two of you as you pushed him away, only to feel him coming closer as he placed a hand on your forehead and then to your cheeks. 

“you’re burning up,” he muttered under his breath, guiding you gently so that you wouldn’t trip over your feet. 

“i’m sorry, you can go back inside, i don’t want to keep you out here.” you were slurring your words as you tried not to throw up on him. you wiped at your eyes so that you could see him better, only to reel back in utter shock to see the face of your childhood friend frowning down at you. 

your mouth formed in the shape of his name, going to say something else, before you hunched over, feeling his strong hands pat your back and keep the hair out of your face as you felt your world tilt on its axis. 

you ate your dinner at the table, eyeing his empty seat as you tried to shove his last night out of your mind. you shouldn’t feel this way, especially about a man who feels nothing towards you, but your little heart was churning in its confines the more you let yourself think about it.

sitting in the same spot where the feast took place only brought back the venomous taste in your mouth, and so you pretended that you were back home, eating somewhere without the worry of your life weighing you down like a thousand weights on your shoulders. 

myra tried her best to distract you, but she could see the distant look in your eyes, how your voice never seemed too genuine. she began to worry for you, but it seemed like your mind was fixed on one thing. 

until you found yourself pacing around your room, just like you were the night you last heard of him, playing with the ring on your finger as the moon carded through your window. 

“my lady,” you heard myra through the door, her voice shaky and a bit more on edge than usual, “there’s-” but before she could finish it slammed open, revealing the man you’d been biting your nails over, standing in the flesh.

his eyes were a dark blue, squinted as they looked right through you. his chest heaved as he looked like he was trying to catch his breath. you could see the streaks of blood that lined his usually clean clothes, the red that stained his cheeks and jaw. 

he looked feral, and it was throwing you off balance. 

“out.” he snapped at myra, and before you could scold him for his tone she fled, the door shutting roughly behind her. 

the two of you could only stare at each other. you didn’t know what to think after weeks of uselessly worrying over him, not knowing about his well-being, to see him here, in front of you, but looking different than he ever had. 

“are you alright?” 

you could barely get it out, the works sticking on your tongue as you took a tentative step forward, not knowing what to do with his state of being. 

he eyed the blood on his shirt, wiping at his cheeks as if he had forgotten it was there. he didn’t look too dirty, less dirty than one would expect from a five week endeavor through the woods, but he didn’t look too good either. 

“you were awake.” is all he says, his chest still moving up and down as though he couldn’t breathe properly. 

“that night i came by, you were awake. i saw your candle, i heard your footsteps.” he says this as though it’s fighting its way out of his mouth as if it’s all he could think about to tell you. 

“i,” you pretend that you don’t care, shrugging, “i wasn’t up to talk.” 

“you were with suguru.” he snaps, his tone shocking you, and he steps back as if he had shocked himself. he jammed his palms into his eyes, tilting his head upwards before he looked back at you. 

“for five weeks you were all i could think about. i wanted to come back, i wanted to tell you what i felt but we kept running into issues with other tribes and clans.” 

“what could you possibly think about that occupied your mind for five weeks?” you so desperately wanted your voice to come out strong but it sounded weak, as though you were hanging off of his every syllable. 

“you had told suguru that you were going to find your…own way out,” he took a step forward, and here you could see the scratches on his chest, the cuts on his arms, “i was praying to every god there was that you hadn’t found somebody in these past weeks, that you hadn’t…”

you could barely believe his words, not knowing if you should feel offended, shocked, worried, or a mix of all those three. 

“what business would it be to you if i did?” you hate that this was the response you settled on. hurt flashed across his face but he tried to regain his composure. 

“you are my wife-”

“and you are my husband!” you snapped and watched as he was momentarily taken aback by your outburst, but you continued your nose flaring, “you cannot argue with me on this when you left with some girl in the middle of our feast!” you felt all your emotions finally pouring out and you had no control over them, “everybody was talking about it, everybody was looking at me in pity!” your voice cracked, tears poking at your eyes as you pointed an accusatory finger at him. 

gojo looked down, running a hand through his hair as he pointed a finger back. 

“if you had let me explain myself, you would have known that she was trying to do what you thought she was. i left as quickly as i could but you would barely look at me!” you wanted to rip your hair out, cursing yourself for ever feeling any sort of worry for this man. 

“i know that this marriage was the last thing you wanted but at least you could play the part of a husband! you didn’t send a single note, anything to tell us that you were okay, that you were alive!” you heaved, fidgeting with your ring as you wiped at your cheeks, “and you come back here accusing me of adultery? all everybody could talk about was the fact that you were warming somebody else’s bed! they said a meeting never takes this long unless something…somebody else comes up.” your voice wobbles at the end, and you find yourself furiously rubbing your tears away, hiding your sniffing as though that would do anything.  

he paused upon seeing you cry, his face falling as he tried to step forward but you angled yourself away from him, hoping he’d get the hint. 

he wanted to hold you, to tell you that all the rumors you were hearing were false and that the only room he had left in his heart was for you. but he couldn’t blame you for feeling or thinking this way. hell, he was so sure that he’d open the door to find another man comforting you that he didn’t even stop to consider what must have been going through your head all these weeks. 

“one of the clans tried to attack us, and we weren’t ready for it. that is why we took so long.” 

you sniffle again, not caring for his explanation although it did soothe a part of your past self. 

“you could have at least sent a letter telling me what happened,” you fidget with your ring, your thumb running over the diamond, “everybody asked me questions that i should have had answers to, but i had no idea where you were or what you were doing…” he nods, his lips pressed into a thin line as he agreed with you. 

“you're right,” his voice was thick with emotion, the words slurring in his mouth as he found himself anchored in place, not knowing what to do. but you were rambling, your thoughts going on and on and you couldn’t stop yourself. 

“…but i know you don’t like letters, so the least you could have done was send a parchment saying i’m alive or something like that.” you rub at your nose again, feeling like all the weeks of worry we’re coming to a standpoint. 

he looked confused now, if anything, and scratched at his jaw. 

“what do you mean?” 

you scoff at the audacity, rolling your eyes as you feel anger prickle at your skin. 

“you never once responded to any of my letters. in my eyes, that must mean you have some sort-”

“letters? what letters?” 

you glance at him, taking in his shaking form. 

“come on gojo,” you feel embarrassed as he urges you to speak, having to spell it out for him, his eyes pleading with you to continue, “the ones from when you left for training.”

his mouth opens and then closes, looks at the ground and then back up to you as he shakes his head. you could hear your fireplace crackling in the background. the only sounds circling the room were the pops of ember and your breathing. 

“i…” he feels like there’s cotton in his mouth, hoping that you’re lying, “i never got any letters.” 

the fire crackled once again and you could almost hear a pin drop as you shook your head vehemently at his statement. 

“n-no, no you did. i wrote to you every week, i sent one every week for two years and you never responded and my mother said that you must have forgotten about me…” and you trail off, the tears in your eyes stoning as he furiously wipes at his own eyes, and for the first time since you had seen him fall down when he was a kid, you saw his own tears staining his cheeks. 

“nobody gave me your letters. i thought that you,” he takes a deep breath, tongue poking inside his cheek as he tried to control himself, “i thought that you didn’t care for me anymore.” 

you hug your midsection, your emotions running wild at his words. 

“i was under the impression that you hated me.” you admit, and he looks as though you stabbed him through the heart. if only others could see the powerful warrior now, stripped bare to his conscience and all he could think about was you. 

“why…why would you think such a thing?” you two inch closer without knowing it, longing to touch each other, wanting to know that the other was really there and that this wasn’t a figment of your imaginations. 

“gojo, you could barely looked at me that night at the gala and now it seems as though you, well, look at you - you’re flushed!” you’re grasping at straws, motioning towards his face,  twinged with pink as you rub at your nose, “you seem angry whenever i am near-” 

“the only person i am angry at is myself.” gojo whispers, but his voice echoed around the expanse of your skull. 

“yes, i’m aware,” you feel cold despite the fire in the corner, your tone carrying an air of know as you scorn, “i know the last thing you expected by comforting me was a marriage but-” 

“you think i am angry because i married you?” he was moving closer, his hands shaking, his eyes wet. you could see the ring on his finger glow in the dim light of the fireplace, how it shined brighter than any of the night skies, “the only good thing that has happened to me these last few months was being able to introduce myself as your husband. i know that i stripped you bare of any love you may have had for any other man, but call me selfish for feeling glad that i did.” 

you could barely focus on what was happening, his words sinking deep into your skin, going to your bones. 

“i told myself that you had forgotten about me those years i left. when i saw you that night i was so sure you had come with the intention of finding a suitor that i didn’t want to distract you, but then i saw that man come up to you…” and he couldn’t finish, choking on his words as he stuttered, and you saw a glimpse of the boy you had fallen in love with so long ago. 

“and i followed you out. if i knew that simply being alone with you would have gotten me married to you then i would have cornered you in a closet the moment i saw you enter the dining hall.” 

a tear rolls down your chin, splattering on the ground beneath you as you struggle to make sense of what he was saying. it felt as though the months of being married to him were weeks spent pacing around your own rooms, thinking the same worried thoughts, and not having the strength to confront each other about it. 

“you…you don’t hate me?” your voice is timid, almost not believing yourself as the statement tumbled out. gojo had the audacity to laugh a bit, shaking his head as strands of his hair fell into his face. 

“my every waking moment is spent thinking of you. when i was in training, you were all i could dream about, hoping that when i’d come home i could finally have you to myself. 

“you have control over my emotions, my mind, my soul, and i cursed myself for taking away your options for a husband, but the only thing i’ve wanted to do these past few weeks was to hold you in my arms. to tell you just how deeply i yearn for your love back.” 

he wiped at his cheeks, glistening in the faint light. he looked angelic, despite the grime and blood that decorated his clothing. you didn’t want to think about the men he had killed just to come back, to come back to you, and the thought of ever losing him hurt you more than when you spent nights wondering why he never responded to any of your letters. 

you couldn’t stop your feet from leading you toward him, and you could only watch as he met you in the middle, catching you with all his strength, holding you as if you weighed nothing, and it only took a few seconds before your lips collided. 

it was rushed, and messy as you felt his hands holding you as if you carried the weight of the universe. your teeth clashed, your tears staining each other's skin as your hands gripped at his hair, using it for leverage as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, enjoying the whimper that escaped your lips when he nipped at yours. 

it was what years of longing and desperation felt like. how it felt like you two just molded into each other as if your bodies were cut out with the other in mind. you felt like your heart was about to stop beating, and you knew gojo felt the same with the way he’d whine against your lips, wanting you more than you could have ever imagined. 

“we’ve been stupid people, haven’t we?” you whispered as you pulled away, trying to catch your breath as he smiled against you. if only you knew just how much he’d been wanting to kiss you like this, to see your swollen lips as you looked at him from beneath your eyelashes. you were his venus, his only saving grace, and he could only vex himself for ever making you feel anything but love. 

“very, “ he pressed a kiss to the corner of your eyes, “very,” to your nose, “stupid,” his lips were on your cheeks, feeling like he was breathing in new air at the sound of your laughter, “people.” he pressed his lips to yours again, cherishing in the way you whined at the harshness. 

he had spent months convincing himself that you no longer cared for him. weeks of perilous training to only come back to a bed and dream of a girl who didn’t share his emotions when in reality you did. he wants to track down the letters you had sent him, to read every word carefully, as if each sentence carried its own riddle inside of it. he wanted to apologize for never having the honor of experiencing your skilled penmanship, for leading you to believe that he had simply forgotten about you. 

“gojo,” your fingers curl in his tunic, your heat transferring, trying to be rational in such an irrational state of being, “you’re bleeding, i should call for the doctor.” he didn’t stop kissing your face, moving to your jaw as he smiled hearing you shudder. 

“it’s not my blood,” he murmured and you wanted to smack him for how cocky he sounded, “and don’t call me gojo.” he nipped at your lips again. 

“husband?” you found yourself smiling at the title, but he shook his head. you saw how he was trying to hide his own grin. 

“sire?” you tested it out teasingly, hating how it sounded. he seemed to agree with the way he grimaced at the name. 

“my lord?” he wanted to bottle up your laughter forever, knowing he could get drunk off of the sound. his nose nudged up at your jaw, pressing wet kisses wherever he could. 

“hmm, what about my liege?” you're curling a strand of his hair around your fingers letting him settle you down on your vanity as you spread your legs so he could slot between them. 

“my men call me that.” he says, cringing as it falls off your mouth. you pretend to think, not knowing how you were able to live without this banter for as long as you did. 

“satoru?” you felt breathless saying it after so long. but he still didn’t seem to find it satisfactory enough, a pout on his lips as he wanted you to find a better one. 

“close, but only when you’re angry with me.” you tuck that information in the back of your mind for if you ever need to scold him, your cheeks flushed as he interlocks his fingers through yours. 

“‘toru…?” his lips broke into a giddy smile, and you had to control yourself as he swooped back in for a kiss. his eyes were so much softer when he laughed, the kind ones you fell in love with so many nights ago. 

“there it is,” his voice was husky, raw as your fingers gripped at the baby hairs at his nape. he was taking your air away with him and you couldn’t find it in yourself to fight back for it. 

“i forgot how cheeky you can be,” you bite your lip to keep the moans inside, feeling feverish as his tongue ran over his love marks, not knowing what to do yourself as you scrambled to grab onto something to keep you afloat.

“you have no idea how much self-control it’s taken not to ravage you,” his breath is hot on your skin, and he’s tugging at your shirt, fingers slightly brushing upon your breasts, “every night you’d come down for dinner i wanted something different to eat.”

“stoppp,” you mewled, not used to this. he chuckles as his slender fingers work to untie the knot keeping you together, tugging at the string until it falls, revealing your naked chest, heaving as the fabric pooled at your hips. 

you wanted to cover yourself up under his heavy gaze, to take the fabric and hide, but you felt pierced by his stare. his eyes darted to yours as if checking to see if you were okay. when you gave him a timid nod, it seemed as though it prompted him to finally move. 

his fingers were gentle as they ran across your waist, large as they covered the soft of your stomach, eager as they went upwards. he looked like he was crazed and starved, as if you were his last meal and he couldn’t wait for the sweetness death would give. 

your breath stuttered as his fingers found your mounds, rubbing a soothing thumb over your nipples as his pupils grew. he was eager as he flicked them over and over, a cheshire grin growing as they hardened under his touch. 

“you’re perfect,” he murmured, dropping down so he could suckle at your tits, his spit shining in the light of the fire, and you tilted your head back, soft moans escaping as his tongue drew circles around your buds. 

“f-fuck, ‘toru, that’s,” you couldn’t even finish your sentence, his second hand coming to cup your other tit, not wanting to leave her unattended as he sucked and bruised, wanting to forever leave his mark on your untainted skin. 

“good?” he’s so cocky, and you want to smack the smug smirk off his devilishly handsome face. 

his knee is purposefully rubbing against your clothed clit, and you feel yourself subconsciously rubbing yourself against it. you hope that he can’t feel how drenched you are from him just sucking your tits, but he pinches you, pressing his tongue flat against your skin as he looks up through his lashes.

“horny from just me touching you?” he’s teasing you, it’s so painful the way you want, need him like oxygen. you tug on his hair roughly, bringing his spit-soaked lips back to yours as you bite down on his lower one, enjoying the groan you draw out from him. 

“don’t be mean ‘toru,” you taunt, and you feel him melt in your fingers, nodding to your request as he lowers himself down. 

he presses wet kisses down your torso, stopping just above your hips, his fingers hooking along the rim of your underwear, being careful and slow in his movements as he waits for any objections, making sure you’re okay with this. 

but you were in your own world, hitching your leg over his shoulders, drawing him in closer to you, sweat dotting your forehead as he licks a stripe over the cotton on your pussy, smiling to himself at the taste of you. 

you were so sweet, sweeter than any desert he’d indulge himself on. he was sure that once he had a taste of you he’d be able to repent, to go before any god, and to tell them that you were his religion.

he had spent countless nights, tossing and turning in his bed, the only thing putting him to sleep being the idea of coming home to you. running after you that night was him running home to you, regardless of where you were. he was glad he got your hand in marriage, but if he had to, he’d wait another ten years just to hold you in his arms again.

he peels your underwear off, a string of your arousal connecting to it, and he tucks it in his pants, for safekeeping. 

“you’re going to be the death of me.” he says against your heat, his nose rubbing against your clit as your eyes wring shut in pleasure. his hands grip your thighs, making sure you stay in place as he kitten licks around where you need him the most. 

“don’t let…don’t let any of your enemies hear,” your voice comes out in bits, your hand resting on the back of his head as your leg tightens around him, “don’t want them to come after me or something.” 

he snorts, pinching your thighs as if anybody could come within a ten feet radius of you without losing an eye. 

his lips come closer to where you desperately want him, a finger prodding at your tight entrance, his tongue finding your clit as he begins to suck. 

it’s all too much, the sensations far better than your own fingers have ever proved to be. 

his fingers are skilled, long enough that they reach deep within you. he sinks one fully in, your walls clamping around him as he continues sucking your clit, his teeth grazing it every so often, making your head thump against the wall. 

“talk to me, how do you feel?” his mouth discontented from your bud and you whine at the loss. he sinks in another finger to make up for it, but he doesn’t move them, waiting for your response. 

“‘s good,” one of your hands is fisting your discarded robe, trying to hold onto your senses as you desperately nod, “don’t stop ‘toru, please,” and he obliges, loving the sounds of your begging, but loving the sound of your pleasures more. 

his fingers stretch you open and you welcome the sting, your nails digging into him as you long for more. 

he switches his mouth with his hand every now and then, his tongue taking the place of his fingers as it licks at you, groaning at your taste as he eats you out with his entire being, his chin shining with your essence and his spit as his thumb rubs furiously at your clit. 

“mmhhh, just like that, fuck!” you’ve never heard your voice at this pitch, never knew it was possible to feel this way. his other hand reaches up to flick at your nipple, the extra sensation making white dot around your vision. 

you feel yourself getting closer to the sweet release, feel your wall clamp around him even tighter as that knot in your stomach builds to a crescendo. 

“come on, let go f’me, know you want to, know you can.” he spurs you on, his fingers unrelenting as they piston in and out of you, reaching that gummy spot that makes you go dumb.

“fuck, ‘toru, m’gonna, m’gonna come!” you cry out and you’re sure anybody walking past you could hear the debauchery. your thighs were starting to shake and you felt it all go black as you reached your high, your orgasm washing over you unlike anything you’ve ever felt. 

you creamed around his fingers, gushing around him as you wailed out, tears dotting your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure you were feeling. you squeezed around him, wanting to never lose what this felt like, trying to catch your breath as his mouth never stopped sucking at your nub before he was sure your climax was over. 

when he finally pulled away the only thing that could be heard was the two of you, trying to come back down as stupid smiles made their way onto each of your faces. 

he was boyishly charming as he stood in front of you, licking yourself off of his fingers as he grinned at the taste. you couldn’t be bothered to be embarrassed after having him just between your legs, but you still felt a heat blossom in your chest. 

“so…” you awkwardly start, sweat dripping down your face from just how hot the room had suddenly gotten as you avert your gaze, “what now?” 

he shrugged nonchalantly, despite the fact that his heart was about to beat it’s way out of his chest. you let him pick you off of the vanity and tucked you safely away into his chest as he led you to your bed, gently setting you down in your mountain of pillows and blankets as you felt sleep etch away at you. 

“i’m going to clean you up,” he pressed a kiss to your hair, smiling at the way you giddy smiled at whatever he did, a dopey grin on your face as your hand searched for his, interlocking you fingers with his as if you didn’t want to watch him go, “if you let me.” 

you yawn, your head tilting as he sat down at the edge of your bed, still not letting go of your hand as your fingers run through the soft pelts beneath you. 

“and what about you?” your chin points the obvious hard-on growing in his pants. he looks down as if suddenly realizing, and he plays it off by looking back up to you with a wink. you felt your mouth going dry at the size of it, not knowing if you could even be able to take something as big as that. 

“for another day,” he promises, and you’re sure he’s not going to forget it. not like you want him to.

“and then?” 

your question lingers in the air. you don’t want to wake up to him acting like this never happened, as if your feelings were only a figment of your wildest dreams. but his eyes hold onto yours, never letting go as he brushes some strays away from your face. 

“and then i get a bigger bed for my room because there’s no way i’m letting you sleep here alone after this.” his thumb runs along the palm of your hand, his fingers tracing patterns into the soft of your legs. 

“and then?” 

“and then you tell me all the things i missed out on when i was gone. i’ll tell you about the time suguru shaved my head, and you’ll tell me about anything on your mind.” 

“what if i run out of things to say?” sleep is overtaking your voice, and you’re already nodding off, not even truly knowing what you were asking. 

“then i’ll make up stories so that you’re not bored.” he finds a clean towel, soaking it in water from a nearby pitcher as he drags it slowly across your body, as if your fragile and made of porcelain. 

“how do i know you’re not a dream? you might just be,” you yawn, rubbing at your eyes as your finger traces his ring, “you might just be my own mind tricking me.” your eyes are shutting, but the teasing smile on your face never leaves. 

“because a dream wouldn’t hide under a table with you if you asked.” he whispers, kissing your lips with a soft peck as he pulls the blanket over you, letting you sleep into a slumber as he crawls in next to you, holding you to his chest just as he did that night, just as he will every night from now on, and just as he longed for those nights he wished you next to him.

[lxvvie]

By his estimate, Simon was supposed to have left about thirty minutes ago.

That’s what you did after you had sex and got your rocks off. You get dressed, leave with no fuss as soon as it was over, y’know, and make it a little less awkward than it already was. At least, that’s what Simon always did.

And as always, shit gets flipped on its head when it comes to you.

Thirty minutes ago, he would’ve made it home; he’d have showered, smoked, went to bed, slept like shit, and been ready for the next day. Rinse and repeat. Instead he’s here with you, naked as the day he was born, covered in your sweat and his, covered in your cum and his, and Simon would be a lying bastard if he said he wouldn’t feel a certain way if you kicked him out.

You hadn’t thus far and that’s a good thing. He thinks.

It’s you two, side by side, coming down from that high, body humming from your nighttime activities, and you’re basking in the not-so-awkward silence. He’s staring at the ceiling, you’re probably thinking… or, er, probably not, and Simon’s a little curious but not enough to want to ruin the mood. Which a lie from the pits of hell. You hadn’t moved or said a word, and it’s getting to Simon more than he lets on.

But bloody fuckin’ hell, what do you say after something like this? Thanks for the sex, sweetheart, be seein’ you or Felt good, didn’t it, luv? What about I don’t think I can leave you, let’s go another round so I won’t have to? Jesus Christ, you’re a fuckin’ mess, Riley.

Not that it matters, though, not really, because “nothing ventured, nothing gained” is Simon Riley’s motto when it comes to you and rather than say anything, he simply grabs your hand to gauge the atmosphere. It’s light, gentle, and uncertain, words he’d never use to describe himself but he gets the point across.

After a moment, he figures he miscalculated until you respond in turn, one-upping him and intertwining your fingers together and no, his heart absolutely did not skip a beat. Bloody hell. He turned, glanced down at your hands connected, looked up at you and to his surprise, you met him head on. How long had you been staring at him, sweetheart?

Not that it matters, though, not really, because your face is inching closer and while Simon is many things, ungrateful ain’t one of them, and if you think you’re just gonna leave him with a kiss on the forehead or cheek then you’re sorely mistaken, sweetheart.

But nothing ventured, nothing gained.

And now it’s Simon’s turn to one-up you this time. He meets you halfway, doesn’t give a damn what happens afterward (he does, more than you’ll ever know), and brushes his lips against yours. It’s light, gentle, and uncertain, words he’d never use to describe himself but he gets the point across. And so do you.

Nothing ventured. Nothing gained.

[mminghaos]

here and now , choi seungcheol x f!reader

SYPNOSIS: after seungcheol pushes you to your limit during a party, the tension finally snaps once you make it to his car.

WARNINGS: smut, unprotected sex (dont do this !!), public sex (parking lot), car sex, jealousy

requests open, do send some in!!

seungcheol was being such a bitch. it was like he was purposely trying to make you jealous, trying to rile you up. why? all because you had a five minute conversation with an old friend from highschool.

and god, was it working.

he had the sleeves of his white button-up rolled to his elbows, and he leaned against the counter as he talked to the woman who was getting too close for your liking. the house party you two had been invited to was hosted by both your friends, but there were so many people there, and you couldn’t seem to focus on anything but him.

every time the woman laughed — too loudly, too flirtatiously — your stomach twisted. you watched as she leaned in, her hand lightly brushing against his arm, and seungcheol? he didn’t pull away. he acted like he didn’t even seem to notice the line she was crossing.

he was doing this on purpose. he knew you hated this, the way people threw themselves at him like he was some kind of untouchable god. but right now, it felt like he was testing you, pushing you to the edge to see how much you could take before you snapped.

he had to know what he was doing. he wasn’t oblivious to the tension in the air, to the way your gaze never strayed from him for too long.

you knew he wouldn’t go anything as far as hurting you — he wasn’t like that. but he always founds ways to make your chest tighten, to make you burn with jealousy.

finally, the woman stepped away, her lips curling into a smile as she walked off, leaving you and seungcheol alone, but not really. he was still leaning casually against the counter, and his eyes flicked to you, noticing the way your jaw clenched, how your body had stiffened with anger.

you walked over to him, setting your glass of champagne down on the marble counter before grabbing his arm firmly. “we’re going home.”

“why? i thought you said you wanted to stay out later tonight before we left the house.” his voice was teasing, the smirk practically oozing from behind you as you pulled him toward the door.

you didn’t say anything as you led him outside, your grip still firm on his arm, ignoring the way he was looking at you with that infuriating, amused expression. the cool night air hit your skin as you stepped onto the sidewalk, the distant sound of the party muffled behind you.

seungcheol finally spoke, his voice low but still laced with amusement. “so, you’re mad?”

you spun around to face him, the words bursting out before you could stop them. “you’re such an asshole.”

his smirk deepened, and he took a step closer, closing the space between you two. “am i? i was just talking to her.”

“bullshit,” you snapped, stepping back as your heart pounded. “you were flirting with her.”

“and what if i was?” he asked quietly, his tone suddenly serious, the teasing edge replaced by something more dangerous.

your breath hitched in your throat, caught between frustration and something else you couldn’t name.

you needed him so bad.

both of you stood there for a moment, the tension between you thickening. before seungcheol could say anything else, you gripped his wrist, pulling him toward his car.

he immediately unlocked the car as if he knew what was coming next. (he did).

“backseat,” you said, letting go of his wrist. your voice was filled with need. “please.”

seungcheol slid into the backseat smoothly, his eyes never leaving you. you followed him, the door clicking shut behind you as you positioned yourself in his lap. the air was thick, charged, but neither of you moved yet, the anticipation hanging between you like a heavy weight.

you tried to stay calm, to hold on to whatever control you had left, but it was slipping away with every passing second. finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. without thinking, you leaned in and kissed him, your lips meeting his with an urgency that surprised you both.

“wondered how long it would take” he pulled back, his voice low, teasing, but with an edge that sent a shiver through you.

all you could do was scoff, but it was light-hearted. “of course you did.” you responded, your fingers twitching, wanting him, needing him.

you couldn't help but lean in again, your breath warm against his skin. with a slight tilt of your head, you brushed your lips against his jaw, lingering there for a moment. your fingers tightened on the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer as you slowly kissed your way down to his neck. the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with the heat of the moment made your senses reel.

seungcheol let out a quiet breath, his hands resting gently on your waist, pulling you even closer as you paused at his neck. the warmth of his skin under your lips made your heart race, and you felt the tension between you both thicken, every second stretching, making the moment feel impossibly intimate.

slowly, your hips began to move back and forth, the motion steady and deliberate. your dress crept up your thighs as you shifted and seungcheol took advantage if that to place his hands there.

a low groan escaped from his lips, right by your ear, and it sent a rush of satisfaction through you, boosing your ego.

“please, baby,” he breathed out, his voice barely above a whisper.

the heat that pooled in the bottom of your stomach intensified, making it hard to focus. you pulled back just enough to undo his belt, your fingers trembling slightly as you slid his pants down.

his cock hit against his abdomen, and your mouth drooled at the sight. “fuck, cheol.” you whispered out, positioning yourself over him after sliding your panties down.

you were already wet enough to not need any prep — it was evident with the way you were dripping all over his lap.

you slowly slid yourself down onto him, nails clawing at his shoulders as you took time to adjust. he was so big, you don’t think you’d ever be able to get used to it properly.

“oh my god,” he groaned out, hands going out to rest on your hips again as you began to move. “thats it. just like that.”

thank god the parking lot you were in was one, around the corner from the house the party was thrown at, and two, empty, because you don’t think you could bear the embarrassment of someone catching you.

“was— was doing fine before you rolled them damn sleeves up.” you whimpered out, your hips moving at a pace you didn’t even know you could reach until now.

“yeah? i bet you were,” he hissed into your ear, placing wet kisses along your collarbones as one of his hands left your waist to rub tight circles onto your clit.

you let out a strangled moan, your climax building rapidly. your thighs burned and you dropped your head on seungcheol’s shoulder. neither of you slowed your actions, desperate for release.

“im so close.” he whined. “come with me, please, please, please.”

that’s what sent you toppling over the edge, your eyes rolling back in your head as your movements fell sloppy. “fuck!” you cried out.

a second later, you felt seungcheol’s hips stutter and his head fell back against the leather seats with a gasp escaping his mouth. he spilled ropes of his warm cum inside you, mixing with your own release.

you both stayed in the same position for a few minutes, catching your breath before seungcheol placed a soft kiss to your nose.

“maybe i should make you jealous more often.”

[trivia-yandere]

The app is so dry. We miss you on here. I think it’s time for you to make a comeback. Do you have anything small like a snippet to just feed us

dry you say?

what are you willing to do?

After managing to dodge your property manager out of rent for two months, you're left in a vulnerable position when he finally comes looking for you.

word count: 4.973

warning: smut, light yandere tendancies nothing too crazy (yet), power imbalance, dirty talking, kissing, nipple sucking/rubbing, oral sex, dry humping, fingering,

“What are you willing to do?” Is exactly what was told to you, words you should’ve expected after 2 months now. You had managed to ignore all the phone calls and emails and dodge whenever your property manager came knocking on your door expecting his rent money. 

Today, however, you couldn’t. You woke up to banging on your front door. A loud, never-ending pound against the fragile door that your heart nearly leaps out of your chest. You wouldn’t have opened the door if you didn’t hear the man yell behind it - “If you don’t open, I’m using my key to come in.”

You leaped to your feet and towards your closet to put on a robe. Your hands were jittery and you didn’t want to see the property manager now; especially at 3 A.M. Weren't there rules on “quiet time”? Could he really be here at this time, banging on your door disturbing not only you, but your neighbors, as well? And even using his key to open your door at this time of night, as well, could be a lack of privacy and safety!

Your feet slam against the cold hardwood floor as you make your way out of your room and down the long hallway. He had since stopped knocking and now, as you get closer, you hear your doorknob jittering. He was going to come in and force you out if you didn’t answer.

Your hand wraps around the door knob and you force it open yourself. You squeeze it as you come face to face with the tall, young man. You swallow as your eyes reach his dark ones, a jolt in your stomach. Even underneath the dim hallway lights, Jungkook’s - the Property Manager and the owners youngest son - lip piercing sparkles. His eyes roam your face and then glances up to inside your apartment. “You haven’t packed yet.”

You bite your lip. Jungkook made you nervous. He was handsome, a man that belonged in a magazine or strutting down a runway. His face was sculpted perfectly from the Gods above. His physique is slim yet muscular and his arm is littered with so many tattoos that each time you get a glimpse of him, you find yourself counting them. 

“Jungkook-“

“It was hard getting in contact with you. Change your number?” Jungkook tilts his head at you. He proceeds to lean against your door frame, foot pressed between the door so you don't have the chance to close it on him. You weren’t going to regardless.

“No.” you murmur, defeated. You cross your arms over your chest, wanting to avoid his intense gaze. Half because you were embarrassed about being caught in this vulnerable situation and because Jungkook was far too attractive for you not to be flustered.

“You owe 2 months worth of rent.” Jungkook says slowly, as if he was talking to a child. “Cash, money order or card? There would be a charge if you use card.” Jungkook says. “But, if you wire it directly to me, I’ll cover the cost.”

You swallow and take a deep breath. You uncross your arms and hang your head. “I…I don’t have it.”

Jungkook knows this - it’s been close to 3 months. He had to watch the cameras on your floor just to get accustomed to your routine, and even then he never had the chance to catch you. 3 A.M. wasn’t ideal for either of you, but it’s what he had to do to get your attention. He didn’t want  to put an eviction notice on your door without having the chance to formally speak with you.

“You don’t.” Jungkook says. It isn’t a question, more of a statement. He then inhales deeply. “So…you plan on squatting here?” he tilts his head, watching you closely. He takes in your features - frightened and alarmed eyes that attempt to blink awake.

Jungkook waits for your answer to come and when it doesn't, he lets out a short snort. He doesn’t move from your doorway and instead decides to remain standing there, intense eyes on yours. He doesn’t blink and you can feel the hair on your skin rise ever so slowly.

“I…should have contacted you.” you murmur after a few uncomfortable moments. “I-”

“You got anything to drink?” Jungkook interrupts, his eyes finally blinking away from you and back inside your home. “I’m thirsty.”

You blink, a few seconds pass before you nod your head gently. “I got…milk?” you murmur. “Strawberry milk. Water.”

“Strawberry milk is fine.” Jungkook says and when neither of you move, he asks. “Can I come in?”

Your nerves don’t go away as you grab the small pouch of strawberry milk from your fridge and hand it to Jungkook. He’s seated at your breakfast table, his eyes noticing how vacant your fridge was from where he sat. A few bottles of water, some yogurts, milk pouches and other miscellaneous items inside.

You lean against the counter as Jungkook opens the milk pouch and begins to drink the milk. It’s silent - eerily so - as you await for Jungkook to say anything. You begin to go through your mind to think of anything to say to excuse your lack of rental payment.

“Jungkook-”

“Lost your job?” Jungkook questions. 

Your lips form into a line when Jungkook speaks up. He sits back into your chair and spreads his legs slightly. He watches you closely.

“Your fridge is kinda…bare.” Jungkook states. “And you’re late on rent. You haven’t paid the electric bill in the same amount of time as you haven’t paid rent so.” Jungkook mentally calculates it all. “You’re behind quite a lot. I’ve covered it.”

“C-Covered it?” you shake your head. “How-”

“I’ve paid for it.” Jungkook nods. “What’s going on, Y/N? I cannot help if you don’t speak with me.”

This is what you were attempting to avoid all this time. You thought you had time to get another job and pay back what you owed - only it wasn’t that easy. You applied to far too many jobs to not get a call back. You worked through what little savings you had until it was all gone and it left you here, ducking and dodging Jungkook until he ultimately found you.

At 3 A.M.

You inhale deeply and exhale with a defeated look. “I’m broke.” you murmur, as if he didn’t already know. “I lost my job a few months back and I’ve been trying to find another.”

Jungkook is silent, dark eyes looking your way as before, unblinking.

“I should’ve told you and…” your body warms with embarrassment. There wasn’t going back to the way it was before. Obviously, Jungkook was going to start the eviction process and you were going to be living out of your car.

“You don’t have any family.” 

Jungkook’s words catch you off guard. You tilt your head a bit, blinking at the man before he adds. “No emergency contacts. I’ve looked into your records.” he says. His foot gently begins to tap against the hardwood floor. “That’s weird.” he states. “Usually, we try to get a hold of any emergency contacts if we cannot get a hold of the renter.”

Makes sense, you think. You nod slowly. “Yeah, I’m…estranged from my family.” you admit. You could have found it weird that he would check, yet if you were in his position you are sure you would’ve, as well. “So it’s just me.”

Jungkook is unblinking again and his gaze causes a sense of unease to flow through you. You bite your bottom lip, your nerves causing your index finger and thumb to rub together.

“My father,” Jungkook begins and his voice catches you off guard. It’s been a full minute without anyone speaking. “has gone through the eviction process.”

Your throat swells and you’re unable to say anything. You suppose you should’ve known this was going to happen. Afterall, the show must go on. No one lived for free - not in this day and age.

“I guess I should begin to pack.” you mumble quietly, your head hanging a bit. You don’t want to look at Jungkook now - or at all. You were exhausted. Your mothers voice rings through your head - that you going to the city was a mistake. That you’d regret going and would find yourself back where you belonged.

That was years ago. You couldn’t return now; not after you’ve gone no contact.

“What are you willing to do?”

Jungkook’s voice, once again, surprises you. Slowly, your eyes lift from the ground to his face. You stand a bit straighter, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Excuse me?” you ask softly. “I…I’m not sure what to do. I…” you exhale a bit. “...I…can sell some things and-”

“That’s what you’re willing to do?”

Jungkook’s eyes are intense, you notice. They’re on you now, staring even deeper. His face is unreadable and there’s an uneasy feeling going through you. “What do you suggest I do?”

It’s a question you didn’t want to ask as there’s hundreds of things you could do. You could do what you suggest and sell your items - but that only meant you’d be in an apartment with nothing in it and still no steady income.

You could do what Jungkook’s father wants and it was to leave and live out of your car. You could still sell your stuff and keep the money until it holds you over.

Your head was beginning to hurt just thinking about it all.

The chair scraps against the hardwood floor as Jungkook stands. It only takes two steps until he’s directly in front of you. His eyes are casted down to look at you and you suddenly feel small - not entirely in size, but in power. You finally began to notice the glint in Jungkook’s eyes, something that isn’t innocent like you initially intended.

“Y/N,” Jungkook begins, raising a hand so that it settles onto your cheek. His hands are surprisingly soft for a man of his stature. It radiates warmth onto your skin and immediately you’re frozen. “what…are you willing to do?” he repeats,  his voice dropping to a whisper. 

It’s evident now that Jungkook was asking for something else entirely. Your skin litters with goosebumps when Jungkook’s thumb begins to slowly trace the outline of your lips.

“Jungkook…”

You aren’t aware your legs are shaking until you try to take a step back just to realize you’re already as far against the counter as you can be.

“Y/N.”

Your breathing hitches as Jungkook comes closer. “I can go. Just tell me.”

You blink a few times. You were in a tough position. If you told Jungkook to go, you might as well go packing. If you told him to stay…

That meant your dignity and self–respect would be gone.

“Tell me to go, Y/N.” Jungkook repeats. You can smell his cologne - an earthy scent mixed with citrus. “And I’ll go.” His thumb stops tracing your lips. “You’ll have 12 hours to leave.”

Your heart begins to beat at a rapid pace and slowly, your eyes widen. This was an ultimatum, you think. It was either do what he obviously wants you to do or leave.

It was unfortunate, you think, that this is what your life has come to. You think about your mother and her words. “When you’re down on your luck, you’d think about my words I’m telling you now.” Don’t go, she had said. Maybe you should have listened to her instead of chasing a fantasy of the big city. 

A shaky hand reaches up to lay upon Jungkook’s. He curled an eyebrow at your actions.

“You…offer this deal to everyone that cannot pay?” you cannot help but ask, pondering if you’re another woman on his long list of those who cannot pay their rent. 

“No.” Jungkook responds and that causes an even sharper pain to your heart. So you were the only one who couldn’t afford shit here. 

Great.

“I’m not forcing you to do anything you don’t want to do.” Jungkook states. Your hand is still above his but neither of you go to move. “My father isn’t a lenient man. I have to tell him something about the rent.”

You suppose you couldn’t be upset with Jungkook, right? He was a man and here was an opportunity presenting itself. He wasn’t forcing you into anything, just a suggestion without coming out and saying it. 

You exhale softly. It could be worse, right? Jungkook was young, attractive and fit. He was interested in something you had, hungry eyes roaming the bit of exposed skin you couldn’t fully shield behind a robe. 

“This place…” Jungkook begins. “...isn’t updated. Or worth staying in.” his eyes glances towards your sink, the faucet closed yet leaking a few droplets of water. “We have premium apartments available.”

“I cannot afford premium.” you scoff, lightly squeezing Jungkook’s hand. You have gotten a glance at the new renovations they’ve made on the top floors of your building. But your words rang true. The price was double what you were paying - or not paying - now.

Jungkook's eyes tell you what he doesn’t say, his previous words flowing through your mind. He was asking you yet again - what were you willing to do for a premium apartment?

You swallow, glancing a way for a moment. It was 3 A.M and everyone had to be asleep after Jungkook’s excessive banging. Maybe they wouldn’t even know it was him who was here now, right?

Why did you even care what others you never spoke to thought? They weren’t paying your rent.

Your hand squeezes around Jungkook’s and you remove it from your cheek. He doesn’t move and awaits your command. 

You’ve made your decision and there wasn’t any chance of going back now.

You lace your fingers with Jungkook’s and tug him towards you, your head lifting a bit so you could capture his lips with your own. Jungkook is only a bit shocked by your sudden actions, but he doesn’t show it. He deepens the kiss hungrily, a short groan trapped in his throat.

“How,” you say against his lips as Jungkook’s free hand places itself onto your waist. “long will this deal last?”

“As long as you need.” Jungkook responds quickly. Truthfully, it goes without saying, however long you and he keep doing this.

You’ve decided. There wasn’t any going back. Maybe this way, you could find the job you needed to afford living here and you could end whatever deal this was.

Your hand tugs onto Jungkooks, fingers still entangled, as you and he stroll down the hallway to your bedroom. It’s the most furnished out of your apartment as you spend the majority of your time here. Your lights are motion sensored and they’re dim upon entering. Your bed, unfinished, sits in the middle of the room while a large mirror is directly above it. Your t.v. is mounted across from your bed and it has since turned off on its own hours ago when you had fallen asleep. 

Jungkook notices the paintings on your walls, all done by you. He was an observant man, witnessing the paintbrushes inside your sink that’s being soaked in water and soap. You were an artist that was possibly new to the big city and currently struggling. A shame as the art he witnesses is amazing to him.

You let go of Jungkook’s hand and the action brings his attention back to you. Even in the dim light of your bedroom, he can see just how sweet and shy you were. Your fingers play with your robe until it’s sliding off of you slowly. You’re sporting a tank top and cotton panties; truly dressed for bed. But the sight excites him, nonetheless.

“You’re very cute.”

The compliment makes your body feel warm and you have the sudden feeling to cover yourself. You glance away. “Cute?” you murmur under your breath. 

“Yes.” Jungkook lets out a chuckle, stepping forward so he can place both hands onto your waist. Immediately, your eyes dart back to his and you’re stiff once more. “Are you an artist?”

An artist?

You place your hands onto Jungkook’s chest as he pushes you closer to him. He was radiating warmth that was unimaginable - but maybe you were far too flushed and embarrassed. 

“If you can call me that.” you scoff, glancing at your walls. “I do paint sometimes. I can’t imagine anyone actually buying them.”

“I would.” Jungkook’s breath flickers against your ear lobe. You swallow when you feel something warm and wet trace it. Your heart begins to pump faster. “What would you allow me to do?”

You squeeze your eyes shut at Jungkook’s words. It causes something in you to shift. “W-What do you want to do?”

“Cum on my tongue.” Jungkook responds, dirty words shooting straight to your core. “But…if you’re not comfortable with that…”

You don’t want to answer too quickly and show just how desperate you are, but the words Jungkook speaks to you causes your stomach to churn with anticipation. “I…I’d like that.”

Jungkook knew you would.

It happens entirely too fast. You won’t say too fast for your liking - Jungkook was the perfect man for the job. Red flags didn’t raise in your head like they should’ve when he pounded his fist onto your door at 3 A.M simply because he was someone you found attractive. When people think of monsters or those who would do harm, they think of hideous creatures, not model-like men like Jungkook.

Jungkook’s hands push you onto your bed and in an instant, his lips are on your neck. He peppers kisses on your neck, his hands roaming your body entirely. He grips and tugs at your thighs, your smooth skin causing a tingling feeling in the palm of his hand.

A moist and warmth sensation trails past from your neck to your collarbone, wasting no time in grazing sharp teeth against your delicate skin. You let out a short huff at the assertiveness Jungkook gives.

“You smell good.” Jungkook’s lips tickle your skin as he speaks. “Like…like tangerines and champagne.” Jungkook inhales your scent and it causes shivers to erupt throughout his body. “I always knew you would.”

The last sentence is one you didn’t hear.

Hands go beneath your tank top and begin to lift it upwards. Your back arches a bit once you feet Jungkook’s squeeze your flesh once more. You allow the tanktop to be pulled over your head this time, exposing yourself fully to the man.

“So pretty.” Jungkook murmurs, the same hands going to grip your breasts in his palms. He grunts, dark eyes becoming clouded with lust.

You release a soft squeeze when Jungkook twists your nipples between your index and middle finger, his eyes flickering up to see your reaction. “You like that?” he asks, though he knows you do. You’re biting your lips to suppress a moan. 

Jungkook decides he wants to hear those pretty moans he knows you have. He leans down to flicker his tongue against your hardened nipple, eyes looking up at your scrunched face. The tip of his tongue teasingly rounds around your nipple with his free hand twists and tugs at the other one.

Jungkook had wrapped both of your legs around his waist so you could feel just how hard his cock was for you. You couldn’t watch him while he does this. It was bad enough you were doing this with him. He was far too handsome for you to watch and now immediately crumble.

“Jungkook….” your own voice stutters into a short moan. 

“Hm?” Jungkook’s suckling onto your breast now, fully engrossed in them. They were so perky in his mouth that he cannot help but want to stay here forever. He sucks roughly and lets your nipple go with a quick pop. He then turns towards the other one and licks his lips. “Your tits are perfect.” he grumbles, bringing the nipple into his mouth so he can suck on this one until it was swollen and red like the other one.

You are relaxed now, your arms wrapping around the man and entangling your fingers into his dark, soft hair. You don’t want him to stop - the pleasure consuming you. You’re trembling in pleasure, Jungkook’s clothed cock rubbing firmling against your own clothed clit. The friction is unbearable and you want to feel him against you - all of him.

Jungkook thinks your tits are indeed perfect. Perfect enough for him to fuck his cock between them, so hard and rough that he cums all over them. He imagines the way his cum would cover your breast and nipples entirely and even then would he not wish to stop suckling on such perfect nipples.

Jungkook releases the bud with another pop, saliva coating your nipple entirely. He’s panting, lustful eyes even darker. “I wanna taste you.” Jungkook demands, one hand going towards your cotton panties and he tugs at it. “I know you’re wet, Y/N. You’ve been rubbing your pussy against my cock this entire time.”

You moan. Jungkook was the dominant type and he didn't wait for you to answer. He’s already tugging off your panties with one finger and throws it aside without a care. You were suddenly growing self- conscious. You don’t particularly think vagina’s are appealing but then again, you also weren’t a man. Especially not a starved one like Jungkook was now. 

“You have a pretty pussy.”

Starved indeed, you think. Your cheeks warm at his words. You glanced down at Jungkook between your legs, his doe-like eyes staring unblinking at you.

“I’m going to have you cumming all over me.”

Jungkook doesn’t wait any longer. His head dives between your legs, his tongue flat against your clit. Your back arches on impact and your thighs go to close, but you’re unable to. Jungkook’s already made his mark between your thighs and both of his hands are forcing them open.

Jungkook’s tongue laps between your folds, his head bobbing from side to side. He doesn’t come up for air once, nor does his tongue halt its aggressive assault onto your clit. The action itself is weird to you. You couldn’t even say you barely knew Jungkook, because that meant you knew him more than you actually did. You only ever saw the man in passing and yet, here he was. His lips between your legs, ravishing you as if it’s something he’d wanted for the longest.

And to Jungkook, it was - unbeknownst to you. His mouth was watering at the sight of you earlier in just a robe, little clothing underneath it. His eyes lingered on what skin you did show while you offered him the strawberry milk.

Your fingers find themselves in Jungkook’s hair and your throat lets out a struggle whine. Your stomach churns and your hips slowly begin to grind against his tongue, an action he finds entirely hot. His fingernails dig into the sensitive skin of your thigh as he makes no attempts to halt the act of pleasure. 

Jungkook leans back just a bit, his lips and chin glistening with your arousal. “You acted like you’ve never gotten eaten out before.” Jungkook says, the sound of his voice causing your eyes to blink open and look down at him.

Big mistake. Jungkook was already looking your way and when your eyes met his, you whined with a shake of your head.

“Not like this.” you sigh, your fingers relaxing the grip you had on his hair. It would be a shame if his hair thinned because of you.

Jungkook only chuckles, a sense of pride flowing through him. His tongue lays flat against your clit and he flickers it between your folds with such pressure that your fingers go back to gripping his hair. 

Jungkook was going to fuck you. No doubt about it. He had to know just how tight you were first - and he knew that you were. His right hand loosens and he goes to lean away from your throbbing clit. He lifts himself to face you. “I want you to cum all over me.”

Fuck.

Jungkook, without warning, forces his right hand towards you. He places two of his fingers right inside your mouth. You’re astonished by the sudden action, gasping when twirls them inside your mouth to coat his fingers with saliva.

“Good girl.” Jungkook winks your way, the pet name causing your walls to clench around nothing. You groaned.

Jungkook removes his fingers from inside your mouth and wastes no time in laying a hand onto your clit. His thumb twirls your clit slowly to test the waters, eyes flickering towards you. “Have you ever squirted?”

“You’re going to make me work for the apartment?” you murmur, not intending to say it aloud. But when you do, Jungkook snorts.

“It’s already yours.” Jungkook says, his fingers inching towards your hole. Tight as he imagined, not accustomed to him yet. That would be something he’d get you out of. “I think you’d look cute squirting all us.”

“Shut up.” you’re hot with humiliation and your legs shake a bit as Jungkook’s fingers go deeper and deeper in you. Your head lays back against your sheets and you huff.

Jungkook licks his lips, your juices hitting his taste buds once more. He thrusts his fingers in you until long fingers cannot go any deeper. The noises you make causes him to continue, thrusting them in and out. Each thrust is faster and a bit rougher than the last.

“Aaahh, you’re so wet.” Jungkook snickers. Your pussy is taking him so well and he cannot wait to fuck into you like he’s wanted. “I should’ve come to you sooner.” he says. “Look at how well your pussy is taking my fingers.”

You shouldn’t have listened to Jungkook. The sight is entirely too hot, his fingers dipping in and out of you, wetter and wetter after each thrust. You sink your teeth onto your bottom lip and suppress a groan.

“I-It feels good.” you stutter with a shake of your head. 

“Yeah? How good?” Jungkook responds.

“So good.” you squeeze around his fingers, eyes daring to close. Your hand reaches out and you touch his shirt to keep him close. “So so good.”

Your hand involuntarily brings Jungkook closer to you until his face is inches from yours. Your forehead places against his and you sigh out a moan.

“You look so cute when you’re fucked out, baby.” Jungkook comments and presses his lips against yours. You taste yourself and the experience has you moaning into the kiss, but deepening it. You were going to wrinkle his shirt, but you’re positive he doesn’t mind in the slightest. “Let’s see how many fingers you can handle.”’

Jungkook adds a third finger, his biceps flexing as he pounds them inside of you. You’re leaking into his palm and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

The kissing grows intense, your tongue fighting along his. It’s entirely filthy - you doing this with a man you barely know. Yet, you cannot bring yourself to care now. When it was all said and done you would regret your decision to whore yourself out for a place to stay.

Jungkook breaks the kiss first, his tongue trailing away from yours and instead his teeth biting onto your bottom lip, tugging it a bit. Your pussy continues to clench around his fingers, your thighs shaking and stomach churning. The familiar feeling is near - one that you typically feel upon pleasuring yourself.

“It’s okay, baby, let go.” Jungkook’s breath hits against your jaw. His lips are on your skin once more, littering your jaw and chin with possessive kisses that lingers. “Cum all over me like I know you can.”

Jungkook’s free hand roams the curve of your body encouragingly, his right plunging in and out of you. Your head hangs back and without a second thought, a squeal lets out from your throat - one that would be embarrassing if your vision wasn’t blurred with lust.

“Shit, shit, shit.” you can feel it coming - so does Jungkook. He hovers above you, eyes unblinking as you begin to cum. You were so pretty, he thinks. Pretty and adorable, innocent and to yourself. As many times as he’s watched you through the cameras go in and out of your apartment, never anyone with you. You were the perfect person, he thinks. Someone for him and just him.

Jungkook gives a final thrust just as you cum, your back arching. He doesn’t remove his fingers, enjoying the way the creamy white arousal coats his palm and he lets out a satisfied hum. He cannot wait to fuck you. Not now, as much as he would like that. But soon. “You’re exhausted.” he murmurs after a few moments. Slowly, he begins to remove his fingers from inside of you. “Get some rest.”

“Huh?” you say, chest rising and falling. “You aren’t…we aren’t-”

“I’m going to fuck you.” Jungkook says, words crude. “No doubt. Just not yet. You’re tired.” he says. “I woke you up late. Don’t ignore my calls tomorrow.”

You were tired, a sleepy sight leaving you. Your body lays limp onto your bed and even nodding to Jungkook to show him that you understood was far too exhausting to you. “Okay…” you say. “...thank you.”

Jungkook is silent.

“For…” you swallow. The conversation after the hookup is always the hardest - and most embarrassing. “...you know.”

It’s humiliating to say ‘for letting me fuck you for a place to stay’ but you’re positive he understands. 

Jungkook grins. “No problem.” he responds. “I’ll be by tomorrow, Y/N. I have the perfect apartment for you.” One where he could always keep a good eye on you.

[luveline]

Just re-watched the prison Reid arc and whew! Can I request post prison Reid getting to meet his new baby for the first time with a civilian reader? Like he was arrested while reader was still pregnant and she gave birth right before he got out? Maybe have a Diana cameo cause I just love her🤭

ty for requesting! fem, 1.6k

“Do you want me to take him?” 

You give Diane a grateful smile. “Is that okay?” 

Diane is reedy like Spencer, tall and skinny, but strong, too. She treads the carpet in her moccasins and holds out her arms for the baby, shushing him softly as you pass him over. You’ve had to look after her these last few weeks in a way you weren’t prepared for, but she’s looked after you in turn.

She’s almost completely lucid today. The good news has its hooks in her. 

You look out of the window again. The baby coughs in Diane’s arms, a clearing sound after feeding. If she’s gentle with him he’ll fall asleep before Spencer gets home. You aren’t sure what to do, let him sleep or wake him. What would Spencer want? 

I want to come home, he’d said, choked up over the phone, so badly. I’m so sorry. 

“Are you sure you won’t call him Walter?” Diane asks. “Spencer likes that one.” 

“I’m sure, Diane. He liked Jasper, so…” You bite the tip of your tongue until it aches, refusing to cry again. “So I went with Jasper. I hope he doesn’t mind.” 

That morning when Emily told you he was coming home, you cried like you’ve never, ever cried. So hard that Jasper woke up in his cot across the room and cried with you. 

You’d cried a lot after Spencer was arrested, and worse when he was imprisoned. You cried like a baby the day you went into labour because you knew you’d have to do it alone, when Spencer promised he’d be there with you, that you wouldn’t have to do any of the scary parts alone. 

It didn’t take long to stop. You’d grabbed Jasper with your cheeks soaked in tears and rubbed his back, that small stretch of warmth under your hand like a lifeline. In a way, Jasper being Spencer’s has made this easier. You’ve had a part of him. It just wasn’t enough to get over missing him. Every bit of joy —you have a baby now, your beautiful boy— has been swiftly followed with an aching sort of grief. Spencer missed his first cry, first bath, the very first time he opened his eyes. You can’t go back. 

“They said three.” 

Diane doesn’t seem concerned. She’s missed Spencer as much as you have, and you know her worry for him has made her more poorly than she’d otherwise be most days, but the baby helps. “I’m gonna find his bear,” she says. 

You bend down, trying to see the corner of the street through the window. Then you remember the last time you left Diane alone in the kitchen and flinch. “Hey, Diane?” you call. 

She’s checking the drawers for the bear. You’re not sure why she thinks the bear would be there, but perhaps that’s where she put it. “Can I make you a cup of tea or something?” you ask her. 

“You’re spying on me.” 

“Spying implies you don’t know what I’m doing.” 

She pats the baby’s back. “I can see why you and Spencer get along.” 

It’s a little more than getting along. 

Diane finds Jasper’s bear atop the bread bin, sitting at the kitchen table with him, the bear sat across from him, though Jasper’s already sleeping again. 

You put the stovetop kettle on to boil and realise with a start that you can make Spencer a cup of tea at the same time. Your smile is unfailing, then. He really is coming home. The kettle begins whining while you recover his favourite mug from the cabinet, untouched the entire time he was gone. 

“How many sugars today, Diane?” you ask. 

“Was that the door?” 

“What?” You’re putting the mug down before you can compute. 

“Angel?” 

You feel a rush of emotion all over at the sound of his voice. You try to call back to him, but you don’t manage anything more than a catching gasp as you push out of the kitchen and find him at the door. Right there at the end of the hall. 

Pale, tall. Arms already opening, half a step as you run at him. He doesn’t complain when your chest knocks against his. He doesn’t say anything at all. 

“Hi,” you breathe, pressing your nose to his shoulder. Your eyes stay open —it’s like panic without the fear. He’s really here in your arms. 

He squeezes you tightly. So tight you can’t breathe for a second. Then he gentles, his hands rubbing up and down your back out of sync, face falling into yours. 

In the kitchen, Jasper makes a croaky crying sound, a stirring Diane calms immediately. 

You attempt to pull away. Spencer will want to see Jasper, of course. He hadn’t met his own son. It was all he could talk about for weeks before he went away, and yet—

Spencer just rubs your back. After another half a minute like that, he asks, “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah.” You clear your throat.

“Yeah? No one would tell me anything specific, I was worried you might not be alright.” 

“Everything went fine.” He holds you to his chest. He smells like cheap soap. “I didn’t– it was really okay. He was easy, like he knew I couldn’t handle any complications.” 

“And he–?”

You recognise the undercurrent in his voice. It’s the same thing you felt when they put Jasper on your chest for the first time. “He’s perfect.”

“All ten fingers?” 

You pull away. Immediately, Spencer’s taking your face into two hands, his eyes pouring into yours with an intensity that worries you. “He has all his fingers and toes,” you say quietly, “how about you? How’s your leg?” 

He doesn’t seem to be able to answer. Jasper makes another noise and Diane’s chair creaks. You turn with Spencer’s hand on your side, watching as Diane brings Jasper to the door. 

“Spencer,” Diane says, like she just saw him yesterday, “you’re late.” 

“Sorry, mom.” 

He always sounds younger when he talks to her. 

“Will you take the baby? I was just making some tea,” she says. 

Spencer nods but doesn’t move. 

“I’ll take him.” You kiss Spencer on the cheek. Remember you haven’t for weeks and kiss him again. “It’s okay.” 

You hold your arms out and take Jasper against your chest. Spencer takes a hesitant step forward, stops, hesitating, but when you turn to him with a comforting smile the band holding him back snaps. He crosses the room, breath pulled like he’d stopped as he cranes his head to see his baby. 

“Three weeks old today,” you say softly, tipping Jasper back so Spencer can see his face. “He missed his daddy, you know.” 

“You can’t know that.” 

“Of course I can. I’m his mom, Spencer… And who wouldn’t miss you?”

Spencer shakes his head gently, reaching out to caress Jasper’s full cheek. 

“Jasper,” Spencer says. 

“He’s been a great baby so far. Doesn’t give me much trouble. He cries all night, of course… but all babies do. He goes down after a while. I’ve–” You swallow the heat of missing Spencer like a barb dragging against the inside of your throat. “Told him you’re coming home. I told him every day, I promise.” 

“M’sorry,” he says, pained. 

“I know, Spence.” You nudge him. “Time to hold him, honey.” 

He’s more eager than you thought. It’s almost like he’s worried you won’t let him have the baby, but it’s like you told him on the phone: Spencer made a stupid mistake, and you still love him. He never should’ve been going back and forth like that, but you get why he did. Wouldn’t you want Jasper, one day, to care about you in the same way Spencer loves his mother? You forgave him the moment he apologised. 

“It’s alright,” you say, slotting Jasper from your arms to his, guiding his hand behind Jasper’s delicate neck. “Just hold him. He missed you.” 

Spencer sniffles. “I missed him too,” he says. 

“I know.” 

Diane realises eventually that Spencer being home is a big deal. It’s not her fault, not understanding, but the new baby, her relocation again, her nurse barely gone, and Spencer’s sudden homecoming, it’s probably too much to deal with. She finds you, Spencer, and Jasper on the couch in the living room and frowns at him heartily. “You won’t hug your own mother?” she asks.

“You’ll have to hug me around the baby,” he says, sorry. 

Diane agrees to this without fuss. She caresses his cheek as he’d done for Jasper as she pulls away. 

“Thank you for helping out, mom,” he says. 

“It was all Y/N, Spencer. You know mothers. We’re strong.” 

Spencer looks at Jasper, still sleeping, and then to you, a shade of adoring in his eyes you’ve never seen before. “I know,” he says. 

You curl into his side and take a breath. For the first time in weeks, you let your body relax, finding it sorer and angrier than you’d left it the last time you had the chance to check in. 

Spencer brings the side of your face to his lips to kiss your weary cheek. 

[writingangst]

Russian Roulette

Summary: Simon Riley takes notice that the reader has a specific way of reloading her gun, which results in him being paranoid to the point he misreads the situation.

Simon Ghost Riley x Reader

Warnings: violence, angst, cursing, torture, hurt/no comfort.

Words: 2.3K

This was a prompt from Character.AI by user @/kstzii and I had to make this account to post because it really hit the angst spot for me. Hopefully, it does the same for you.

The echo from your sniper rifle was stifled by its silencer as you scored another bullseye. You felt someone's gaze burn into the back of your head. But once you turned, you couldn't see anyone. Must've been my imagination. You reassured yourself as you went back to attempt another shot. No bullets. You quickly reload and reposition yourself to fire off another round.

“What the hell was that?” Your lieutenant's voice called out. You swiftly turned to him. “Reload again.”

“What?” You were caught off guard, the slight hint of a Russian accent slipping out. Shit. You instantly clear your throat to switch back to your usual British accent.

“Are you deaf? I said reload again!” He repeats, his voice booming.

You rearange yourself from your position lying on your stomach, onto your knees, the head of your riffle touching the dirt beneath you. You look at him through slightly narrowed eyes. “Now, why would I reload when I just switched to a perfectly good mag?”

His jaw clenched. You noticied how he was trying to hold himself back. He did this often. You were sharp with your tongue and tended to use it on him often. In more ways than one. Though this time, he didn’t quite seem like he was enjoying it.

“You know exactly what I mean. That was a Russian reload,” he crossed his arms over his chest, the veins in his arms were prominent. It brought you back… No. This was serious.

You laughed it off, seeming unbothered. You were cool. Calm. Collected. Everyone knew you weren’t one to be thrown off your game easily. But this certainley was doing just that. You weren’t about to let him see that though.

With a scoff, you turn your back to him to get a better hold of your gun. “I reckon you haven’t slept, Lieutenant. Could be playing tricks on your sight.”

“I know exactly what I saw,” his tone was cold, but with his clenched fists you knew this was a ticking time bomb. “Do. It. Again.” He ordered in a firm tone. It left no room for any arguments.

You’re stagnant only slightly. There was uneasiness in your stomach at what this could mean. You knew Simon, and you knew Ghost. This was the latter, but you weren’t going to let this play out the way he wanted it to.

“And if not?” You challenge as you turned towards him, eyes sincere as you looked deep into his conflicted ones. “This gonna end in friendly fire?”

In long strides he stepped forward, coming to a halt right in front of you. He pulled you up by your elbow, but you never lost your grip on your weapon. With him being 6’4, you had to crane your neck to look him in the eye. His towering frame was imposing, making you feel small.

He leaned closer, just like he had so many times before. His body only a few inches from yours, but instead of it having the burning effect it usually did, now you were just feeling uncomfortable with the interaction. He was doing this on purpose. He was trying to intimidate you.

“What do you have to lose?” He countered, his voice low, a rumble to his chest.

You took it as a challenge.

With a clenched jaw, you took a step back from him as he severed his grip on your skin. You rid of the magazine wedged within your sniper and your eyes never leave his as you do so. Taking another mag from your tactical gear, you shift to do a simple tactical reload.

He watched you intently, his eyes glued to your every move. You didn’t break a single swet. And even though it seemed like something inherently intimate, you knew it was everything but. Once you finished and kept your straight face on him, he stepped towards you again.

He looked pissed as his eyes flickered to the mag that you just placed into your gun.

“That…” he stated through gritted teeth, gripping your chin with force between his thumb and his forefinger. You were forced to look at him head on. “…isn’t a British reload. Now tell me, who are you really?”

“I’m a simple sniper, sir,” you reply without skipping so much as a beat. “I was chosen for this task because of my outstanding sniper skills.”

Silence ensued.

Then you continued. “But you knew that already. You read my file,” you hissed back at him. “And you’ve trained with me for months, been in my bed, so what exactly are we implying here, Lieutenant?”

He kept his grip on your chin, his fingers digging into your skin. You noticed how he continued to get frustrated that nothing was out in the open like he previously thought it was. He expected you to be defiant, not secretive. A piece was missing and he was paranoid. Something wasn’t right.

Suddently, you’re smashed against the closest tree and your rifle was hitting the ground. You wince as a gruff pained noise falls from your lips once the air is knocked out of you. His vast hand squeezed your neck. Not enough to cut your air supply. Yet. But enough for it to be uncomfortable to breath. There was a sense of betrayal in his eyes and you knew he had assumed the worst.

“You’re a lying Russian spy,” he murmured into your ear with such force you thought you’d faint.

You struggled against him. “I am not Russian, nor am I a spy,” you rasp out as best you can, but you feel him crushing your windpipe. You wouldn’t lie to yourself. You feel hurt. He was one of the closest people you had since joining the 141 task force. Which made you angry. That’s when hurt vacated to make room for the feeling of deception. “But I will not explain myself to you when I have a job to do.”

You attempted to push him off but he was stronger and bulkier than you, making it almost impossible. You understood there that there would be no reasoning with him. Sleep deprivation and high stress levels were obvious indicators of this. You both had been on the field for days, and he had been the one doing most of the lookouts in order for you to get a bit of shuteye. You won’t be a good shot with heavy lids, sweetheart. He once said to you.

“What were you sent to do, huh?” He asked, his voice had lost its edge and now he just sounded distant. “Spy? Assassinate me?”

“Paranoid motherfucker,” you hissed, holding onto his forearm to steady yourself against his grip. “Screw you.”

His eyes narrowed, his grip loosening only slightly. “You sound surprised. You can’t honestly tell me that you expected me to not investigate the mysterious sniper with a Russian reload and accent?”

“And I’m almost certain you couldn’t find a Goddamn thing about anything and that’s why you got me cornered,” you stated as a matter of fact. “I’m not whoever the hell you think I am, and this paranoia is serving to have this mission go south if you don’t let me get to my gun.”

He laughed this time. Honestly, laughed.

You scrunched up your nose. Fuck you, Ghost.

“You don’t think I have dirt on you, sweetheart? I have files on you, more than you can count. I know you, better than you think,” he paused for a second. “I know your weaknesses, likes, dislikes. Everything.”

You laugh bitterly. “I don’t doubt that. Hey, I even had a hand in the shit you know because I trusted you. That still doesn’t mean you know jack shit about what happened in Russia. You’re so inclined? Ask Price!”

“I asked Price!” His hand gave your neck a quick squeeze and you saw how his body trembled. “He didn’t know a damn thing. Said your file was locked and he was denied access. Now why the hell would that be, huh?”

You snorted. “He said that to protect me. I had the whole record wiped. None of this concerns you, Lieutenant. We all went through shit, and you think you’re the only one that’s allowed to be a ghost? Fuck you!”

His eyes narrowed at your words. “Why would he protect you if you have nothing to hide? That makes no sense and you know it.”

“Because my trauma is my trauma! And you have no business budding into it!” 

“And if it’s something that could jeopardize the entire task force?” He muttered, his patience wearing thin. “If it could get everyone killed?”

“You’re an idiot if you think Price would let me anywhere near this damn task force if he considered me a risk,” your voice was cool, but your heart was thumping in your chest. You attempting one last shove that surprisingly caused him to let go. You wheezed when the pressure was off your trachea and you coughed to catch your breath. 

He watched you silently.

Once you composed yourself, you looked back at him as you held your neck. “I thought we were fucking friends, Ghost.”

“Friends?!” He spat exasperatedly. “You really think I would consider you my friend when I know you’re lying? You think I make friends with people I don’t trust?” His eyes were cold, his tone cruel and bitter. “Tell me why I shouldn’t put a bullet between your eyes for the simple deceit.”

Aside from the pain emitting from your neck, there was a hollow ache in your chest that was capturing your attention as well. You would relive the trauma if that would mean getting the job done. But when it came to Simon Riley, he was as good as dead to you.

“I was held hostage by Russian forces for 18 months.”

His stance faltered at that. You don’t think you had ever seen him lose his footing like he had in that instance. And his eyes… Christ, he had never changed his expression so fast. What the hell was that? Pity? He could go screw himself.

You continued. “Anything you can think of in torture, triple that. What kept me alive for so long was the fact they wanted to use me. The only way I got out of the constant abuse was the training. So excuse me if I picked up on a thing or two. Even the Godawful accent that creeps into the British one,” you cleared your throat. “I’m not your enemy, Ghost. But you’re right. I’m not your damn friend either.”

As you explained your past, his eyes never left yours as he listened carefully. He expected many things, but he hadn’t taken into consideration you being a literal prisoner to Russian forces. For once in his life, he was speechless. The thought that you had lived through a year and a half of torture at the hands of the Russians was something he could barely imagine.

His gaze had softened, but he hardened again when something wasn’t clicking for him. “Doesn’t explain why your file is locked.”

You snorted humorlessly. “Ever heard of Price’s little sister?”

His eyes widened at the mention of her. The captain was hush hush about the matter, but it was a well known fact he had family within the military. And that she was KIA some time ago. “What about her?”

“You’re looking at her.”

Those were the last words he expected to come out of your mouth. Shock and surprise flashed behind his mask as he finally realized what this meant.

“You’re…” He paused, trying to process the bomb that just exploded in his face. “You’re Price’s sister?”

“In the flesh,” you replied with the same cold tone he had been using earlier with you. “You’re not the only one trying to be ghost. You’ve just never been questioned by the task force on it like you just did to me.” 

What could he say to that?

“I took a bullet for you, Lieutenant,” you reminded him. “What fucking spy does that for the opposite team?”

His jaw clenched and you saw how his mask flexed due to it. His eyes showed how he replayed that memory in his head. It was something he thought about constantly. You had saved him, and he hadn’t seen it coming. He had been so focused on you being a spy that he hadn’t stopped to consider that you were actually on his side.

“I never should have questioned you,” he admitted, his voice quiet as he met your gaze again.

Your hand shot up to stop him from saying anything else on the matter. “It’s done. We’re done here.”

He watched as you walked away to pick up your gun, his mind racing with thoughts but they were too fast for his tongue. He knew he had messed up. He had completely misjudged the situation with the accusations thrown at you when in reality your connection to the task force was stronger than even his.

The irony in the situation wasn’t lost on him, but he didn’t find it funny.

“Wait,” He sighed, taking strides to catch up to you.

“This is unprofessional, Lieutenant,” you stated, dusting off your weapon as you checked for any malfunctions. “We’re in the middle of an active operation. I’m done talking.”

He exhaled a frustrated sigh as you dismissed his attempt at talking to you. He knew you were right, that the mission was what mattered now. But he couldn’t help the feeling that he needed to apologize. It was clawing at his chest, the emotion raw in his throat, asking to be let out in word vomit.

“You can’t honestly expect us to just ignore what happened and continue on like normal?”

Silence followed.

You didn’t even look at him.

“Go back to being Ghost, because Simon Riley is fucking dead to me.”