#i think? those three posts were the tag games i was sitting on?

[amoristt]

the night falls like heaven || 2

part one (x)

「 ✦nam-gyu/reader ✦ 」 tags: sfw // hurt/comfort, mild sexual themes, mild violence, not as angsty as the first one lol, namgyu is a fake idgafer,

a/n: im so happy to get this final out UGH i do have one more small piece related to this mini series ( wink wink iykwim) that ill get posted asap! i hope you guys enjoy hehehe word count: 7.5k | songs i listened to (x) (x) original request (x)

・❥・When you open your eyes on the dawn of the third day, the first thing you’re met with other than the ceiling is the hushed whispering of other players already awake. Chatter that grew by the minute, drowned out below you. 

Sitting up was a hassle for sore, sore muscles and aching bones that had been shaken to the very marrows. You remembered praying, staring up into the white tiles above, for god to give you an easier day than the last. 

You weren’t sure how much more of this you could take. 

Nothing could have prepared you for the third game. Mingle was a monster bearing teeth and a gaping maw, biting and snarling and killing. Blind panic, grabbing hands and twisting fingers. Room after room watching the light in someone's eyes go out through the miniscule gap in the heavy doors. 

Almost every second of the game was spent in apprehensive terror, watching the room go round and round until you were dizzy between the colors and blood. The way fear had stricken you made it hard to focus on anything except numbers and faces, split second decisions that showed only the truest of nature, tailing the few people you’d grown acquainted with into rooms bathed in muted greens and oranges. 

Nam-gyu was nowhere to be seen- or perhaps you were just simply overlooking him, lost in the sea of moving bodies and swaying feet. 

Groups of six became five, and then four. One after the other, names of those you’d never gotten the chance to learn became grave markers. Four, and then three. 

Over the days, you’d grown quite close to a player who’d happened to choose the bed a couple feet from yours, the both of you chatting about the people scattered about the dormitories. He was a kind man with dark hair and even darker eyes that never seemed to feel untrustworthy. Normal enough, friendly enough. Quick to let you join his team during the six-legged race even though you’d found him with a sour expression and an ever more sour attitude. 

So when the number of players per room dropped to two, you jumped to grab his hand and yank him into a room. The least you could do, you think. He had been so kind when you kept messing up your minigame, managed to gather your confidence into the final try, you owed it to him to get him through his game. 

You threw a door open and let him jump inside. For just a second, all the chaotic cries were muffled through the thick walls. 

But only for a second. Because something true and powerful ripped you back by your tracksuit, dragged you right out from that room and sent you skittering on the floor feet away. The wind knocked from your lungs, the back of your head bouncing off the floor with a crack. Fireworks exploded behind your eyes, obscuring the scene before you, but not so much to miss a man slipping into the room after forcibly taking your place.

When you finally bring yourself to your feet and try to pry the door back open, you see your friend held back by that damned player all the way in the corner. 

“Run!” Your friend cries. No sound reaches you. “Run!”

The step back you took was shaky, your mind swimming, lost under the ocean. Heat flooded your skin, prickly and loud. Your heart was a thrashing beat, beat, beat, in your ears. 

Outcries and players beating on doors in the corners of your eyes. 

You were going to die. 

The first thing you think of, standing there frozen in place, watching your friend try in vain to free himself from the other player’s (your murderer’s) grip, was what death would be like. Doors slam shut, rooms occupied with poor souls clutching at the window trying to pry the doors open.

The player holding your friend back gave you sorry, sorry eyes despite it all. 

You hoped the afterlife would be kinder than this. 

And then, with seconds to live, you think of Nam-gyu. The time spent with him argues with the pit of hours spent wasted. Years of wondering and then days of having. It was never good for you, not really, but you loved him in a way that made you weak in the knees. And you missed him so, so deeply that when you’d locked eyes with him on day one there was this little part of you that hoped he did, too. 

Clearly, he did. And you fought against him like a bull, his hands tearing away on your horns, all anger and sneers. A piece of you rearing its head, an angry beast that would prickle at the very thought of his name. A suit of rage to hide away that broken hearted girl standing in the doorway, wishing he’d stop her. 

All that. Just to let him back in. 

If you had known this was the end, perhaps you would have let him prove himself.

You’re yanked to the side so intensely you almost drop to the ground like a stone through murky waters. Running, somehow, even though you couldn’t feel your legs. Everything is a blur of colors and flashing pinks, your brain’s gears have gone haywire and firing blanks in the disarray. When you’re getting your footing back, and your eyes have decided to process the sight before you, you’re drowned out in green covering every corner. 

Metallic thudding and muffled screams. You’re spun around on your heels so quickly it almost made you tip over all over again.

“Why the fuck were you just standing there?!” 

You hear his voice before you see his face. 

When you do, and Nam-gyu’s blocking that abhorrent neon light beating over your skin, it feels like all the gears have stopped. Tunnel vision, all else echoing away in chambers far forgotten. His hands drag from your shoulders to your face, tries to gather the bits of you scattered outside the room. 

“What’s going on with you, huh? Listen to me!”

He’s angry. Or, at least, he looks like it- sounds angry too. But the way his eyes are scanning you, searching you over in noticeable distress tells you otherwise. Fingers running through your hair, tips dancing through your locks until suddenly they nudge up against something so sharply sensitive that it makes you leap. He’s quick to stop you when you try to shove against his chest. 

“Hold still,” Fingers still searching, the palms flat against the sore spot you’d cracked against the hard floor. “You hit your head.”

Not angry, after all. Even the animosity in his tone has melted into something quieter. He draws back and checks his hands for blood. 

“I’m fine.” You have this idea to push Nam-gyu away from you. For some reason, you don’t. You lean into him. Maybe it’s because your head is still struggling to support your brain. Or, maybe, it’s because at that moment you were grappling with the reality that was him being one of your final thoughts. Again. 

Flirting with death was becoming a trend with a common denominator. 

You bury your face into his chest and let yourself feel protected for the first time in years. For a moment, Nam-gyu tenses. Unsure, disbelief. 

“Thank you.” Your voice was a gentle hum that vibrates against his chest, and sticky tears are dampening your water lines, lost in his tracksuit. Wakes him up, muscle memory wraps his arms around your body. You can’t hide the way you tremble like a leaf.

And you can’t hide the way he soothes it all out, rests his chin against the top of your head and lets you use him to find yourself in one piece.

You thank him again, even when he says not to. You thank him, and thank him, and thank him until the door unlocks and you follow him out like a braindead zombie. Pools of blood, now more than ever, are splattered along the floor. 

You see yourself among them.

Still a meandering zombie all the way back to the dormitories. The top bunks have all been taken down, marking the end of lives. There’s a pit in your stomach that only alleviates when you lock eyes with your friend- and this stupid grin explodes over your face when he realizes you lived. He’s across the room from you now, but he’s warm all the same. 

It takes a long time to find a new bed to call your own, but when you do, you hope laying down will help you with the thoughts rattling around in your skull. 

.

Hours later, you’re still drowning in thoughts. 

I do know you. That's exactly why I won’t be on your side. 

Your throat strickens. A million thoughts are bursting your brain at its very seams and spilling out from the cracks. Chatter is endless in the dormitory, but you loiter in uncanny silence. 

You know that I can’t stay with you. Never again. 

The extraordinary disdain so profound it had scared even you to hear it rolling off your tongue. Standing before you, ears flat and flickering tail tucked, an unending urge to control, Nam-gyu had been the very same man you’d deserted for all those years. But the core of you had been so blue it would frost to the very touch, sapphire walls of licking flame to keep anyone and anything out. Even as you found companionship in the presence of others, your mind called for him until you’d hushed it with an onslaught of terrible, terrible memories at his own hands. 

But then you almost died, ripping the cord back on your third attempt at the spinner, watching it tumble fruitlessly as your heart thudded in your ears. Finally getting it, and still barely passing the finish line with your lives intact. It rocked you- changed you, but only in the ways you didn’t notice right away. Walking back into that dormitory, frightened as rabbits before great jaws of teeth, the first thing you fancied yourself to see was him. 

You felt something real when you did- something forgotten and dusty creeping into the forefront of your mind. 

And then he went and saved your life during Mingle. 

Plucked you from the claws of death itself and dragged you into that washed out green-lit room, the colors hueing off your skin and glistening in his eyes when he grabbed your face to check on you. The distress of his expression, the red-hot regard for you to be in one piece, to be in his hold again after so long… It rewired something in your fuzzy brain. Clarity, or illusion, settled and fired echoing shots of previously snuffed out passion to life. 

Reminded you why you fell in love with him, why you never wanted to be without him. More specifically, why being his girlfriend, his one and only, was so important. 

You had known from the start that you were his. You knew it the first night he’d picked you up on his night off and drove you around the city, watching the lights sing in the hues of his eyes. You knew it when he crept into your apartment at a very whim after a long shift, particularly worn and falling into your bed with beautiful ease. 

You knew it the first time he kissed you, eager and fervent. And you knew it the first time you felt him inside of you. Heavy, filling, the perfect piece to all that you needed. 

At the end of the day, you knew it was always you and him- until that fact began to waver and fade, and you found that resolve cracking. Disappearing for weekends at a time, never returning a text or a call, until suddenly it was two in the morning and he was at your door, and you’d barely even get the chance to rub the sleep from your eyes before he was pushing you into the walls and stripping you down to your very bones. All teeth and grabbing hands and your voice chanting his name through the silence. 

A flame roaring so deep and red hot it scorched at the touch. 

It was such a small request, you felt- labels. Be mine, be mine, be mine so I may give myself entirely to you and trust the fall on the way down. You needed that reliability, you needed to know that he held you as you held him. And, lord, you had been so sure of yourself. Brought it up as you ran your fingers along his chest absently, exposed and naked and shimmering with the hazy afterglow of sex. 

No had caught you off guard so severely you had to ask him to repeat himself. The second time you heard it, it hit you like a cold bucket of water splashing overhead. Drenched, chilly down to your very bones. Air ripped from your lungs, mouth dry when he proceeded to laugh at you. 

“Be serious.” He’d chittered. “I’m too busy for all that.” 

Voice wavering, tears already threatening to build in your eyes as you spoke, I am serious. 

“Don’t be a bitch, okay?” Hands touching your naked sides, wrapping around you like slithering snakes threatening to drag your life from the confines of your skin. A touch that felt as slimy as his voice sounded. “We’re fine like this.”

“So what, you just want to fuck and call it a day, forever?”

Lips finding your neck. 

“Come on. You know I like you.” Licks up your jugular, doesn't notice the way you aren’t shivering at the feeling, locked up. 

“If you like me then be my boyfriend.” His ceiling was mundane, void of anything particularly eye-catching, but you couldn’t tear your gaze off.

“I’m busy.”

“…Not too busy for sex, though.”

He pulled back to look at you, this growing sneer on his lips. “What’s gotten into you, huh?”

“Come on, is it really so bad? Being my boyfriend?” You sweetened, tried to soften him. “I just wanna hear you say it, y’know?”

Nam-gyu had tensed at the word the first time, and he did just as well the second time around. Prickles at every word. 

“We’re not fucking-” He gets up and you’re cold, and you’re heart broken and there’s rage simmering somewhere in your belly. “What we have is fine. Don’t complain about shit.”

“Seriously Nam-gyu? You show up and you fuck me and but that’s all you want out of life?” When he doesn’t answer, that simmering rage bubbles into more, swinging your legs from around his bed and bringing yourself to your unsteady feet. “Tch. Fine. Forget about it. ‘Too busy’. God’s sake- If you’re too fucking busy have you considered working a little less?”

Nam-gyu’s jaw tenses and he scoffs, climbs out of bed and passes you right by to throw himself limply onto the couch. 

“Can you chill? How about you focus on you and I’ll focus on me, yeah?”

You took all of five minutes to throw your clothes on and find yourself running down the halls of his apartment. All you bore was your clothes, your phone, and your dignity. Rest be damned, scrambling to get to the privacy of your home with eyes so blurred with tears you almost didn’t make it. 

Months and months to scrub him from your body, even longer for the weight of his presence to go unnoticed in your mind. Even longer to stop seeing him in your dreams, and feeling your heart flutter with every knock at the door. 

You should hate him, still. 

But oh god, you can’t.

And oh god, the way he looked at you in that room, all hands clutching and grabbing and touching you so gingerly you wonder if you’d died somehow, after all. In that moment you wondered how he could ever hurt you at all. Beautiful and warm. 

Years to forget him. 

Exactly 3 days for him to sink back in as if he’d never left. 

Corners of your brain would always house him, the door was always propped open and all the windows unlocked. Nam-gyu would find himself right back where he had started within you, leaving dirty footprints through your hallways.

The differences in him were subtle creatures, if you’d blink you’d miss it at times, but he’s trying and that means he gives enough of a shit. He’s waiting for you to open your arms and welcome him back in so he could make a mess of you all over again- and though you may be a fool, you decide to throw the poor dog within him a particularly tasty bone. 

You don’t sit next to him by any teams, but after grabbing your dinner from the guard you make a point to settle upon a set of steps within Nam-gyu’s general vicinity. It’s an invitation- one that reaches him in alluring calls the very moment he sees you lean back and catch his eyes. As always, he was eager to take that chance, hastily getting up from what little ‘friends’ he had and scurrying over to sit beside you. 

At first you don’t offer any words. There’s a certain weight in the gapping pause, like he’s at the edge of his seat, leaning on every inhale and exhale of yours. Dark eyes and a pointed expression that can never quite seem to figure you out. He waits, and he waits for you to break the silence whilst spinning the rings on his fingers, his meal yet to be touched at his lap. Your tongue swipes out over your lips.

“Thank you.” Tentative, careful. But you break the stillness regardless like a stone through water.

“You already said that.” 

“I know, but I need to say it again. You could have gotten yourself killed, you know.”

Poking through his rice with his chopsticks, all he offers is a dull shrug, like it doesn't matter. Your eyes narrow, and you mock him with a dramatic shrug of your own.

“That’s all? Really?” He won’t meet your face, chewing the edge of his lower lip. You scoff. “Does your life mean that little to you?”

“How can you ask that? It means a lot to me. I don’t wanna die.”

“You almost did.”

He finally finds your eyes, expression caught somewhere between the dance of upheaval and agitation. Perhaps he doesn’t even understand it himself- the way he’d thrown his life around so easily for you. You’re pushing him, so you reign back, let yourself soften just enough. 

“You could have died, and you did it anyway?”  

“Damn it,” He sets his food down and rubs his eyes, dragging at the skin. “Why’re you always asking so many questions?”

“Because you never tell me things on your own.” You pluck the fried egg from your box, chewing down the cold food. When you take a bite, Nam-gyu does too, whether he means to move in tandem with you intentionally or not. 

“I tell you lots of things.”

“Sure, but nothing I ever really wanna know.”

“Alright.” He puts his food down again, swallows his mouthful of rice, restless. “Ask me shit, then.”

You know the smart thing would be to have a couple buffer questions, little things real easy for him to digest, but the words leave you before you get the chance to pull them back down to the pandora within your chest. 

“Why did you turn me down?”

It should catch him off guard, but it doesn’t. His blinks down at you, jaw tensing, those eyes of his always so stormy and unsure. Once again, all he manages for you is a shrug. He’s hiding right before your very eyes, all hands reaching out whilst slapping yours away when you reach back. A scared, hurt, biting dog. The tendency to howl for your love was beastly and he never stopped bearing those teeth. 

“Please,” A sweet touch to his arm, a downcast to your lovely eyes. “I have to know why you didn’t want me.”

“I did want you.” He says it so fast you have to take a second to process him. Your brows knit, the early stages of confusion and anger bubbling under your skin as you set your bento box down. Your temper was always the first to bloom.

“Clearly not, or you wouldn’t have let me leave.”

He swallows, tongue poking out to swipe over his lips. “I freaked out.”

“Really? Because I remember you just sitting there.”

“I know.” His fingers find his mouth, teeth catching on the hangnails he’d worked into the nail beds during bouts of anxiety. “I was freaking out. I didn’t want all that extra shit and then you left and I-...” He swallows again, mind searching for all the words. “I don’t know. I didn’t think you’d really go.”

You have to digest it all for another moment, a pregnant pause as you do. The look on his face that day, so mullish and nonchalant even though you knew with every fibre of his being that he was anything but never left you. Haunted you, drew you away from anyone that shared even an ounce of similarities. You saw his smirks, heard his laughter, saw the outlines of his posture in strangers and it always made you sick to your stomach. 

There’s a thousand questions, now, but you hone in one in specific. 

“Extra shit?”

“Extra shit. Like-... Girlfriend, boyfriend shit…”

“Nam-gyu, we did have girlfriend, boyfriend shit.”

“Yeah but then you wanted to go and make it some official thing. If we already had it, why bother? All labels do is cause problems. What we had… It was good. It was fine.”

Your skin is starting to heat up. There’s a fall to your tone when you slip your hand off his arm and murmur, “Fine, for you.”

His eyes follow your hand retracting as if you’d cut him, shoulders slumping. “...Why didn’t it work for you?”

“I really liked you. I needed all that extra ‘official’ shit, whether you think it’s stupid or not. It meant a lot to me. It meant that you were serious about me, that you wanted me more than the… Fun. we had.” The words leave you forlorn, alive but peaking at the brims with defeat. “I knew I was yours, but… I wanted-... Needed to know that you were mine, too.”

“I was yours!” Nam-gyu leans back hard, terse and pointed with this sullen desperation around him that cried hear me. “I was yours and I didn’t need some stupid name to prove it.”

It’s a tale as old as time, true as it can be when he’s bunching his sleeves up, gripping hard to the inner fabrics, growing frustrated and antsy under the glint of your spectacle. His skin twitches like it’s its own separate entity, like he has to squeeze and clutch and drag to get it to settle back over his muscles and nerves. You’re sure you’re under there right now, worming paths through his veins and into his brain like a sneaky little parasite he could never seem to shake. 

All it takes is a gentle touch to his arm again. Reminds him that you’re right there, beside him. 

And then he’s giving up. Losing his edge, losing his temper but crushing the rolling bites of anger into a simple longing itch of you. He’s trying to clamp his mouth shut but you’re dragging it all out of him anyways, cast by cast. It’s a gratifying satisfaction you never knew could scratch so good. You’d wanted it since the start- all these swirling emotions sputtering from his lips so you could lap up every sound. 

Fingers fall from his tracksuit. You eye him, meet his dejection face to face. 

“Why was being my boyfriend such a terrible thing to you?”

Nam-gyu’s expression falls miles below anything else you’ve seen thus far, somehow. Drawn and weathered, far away down into his lap and hiding himself within the darks of his eyes to escape your gaze. 

“I didn’t want anything to change.” Strands of hair slip past his ear and hang around the frame of his face, further shielding him. “I didn’t think… I don’t know what I thought.”

“Didn’t think what?” It’s like pulling teeth, you find, extracting the bits of him he’d clocked years into burying. You coax him anyway, and he finds your light with compulsory desire. 

“I thought I didn’t want it.”

 “It, or me?”

“It. It really got under my skin. You, got under my skin.” When he looks at you, you can truly see the mask breaking away into shards. A person suit coming untwined as the real him bloomed. “Girlfriend had a lot of… weight to it. I didn’t want all of that, but you then left, and I don’t know.”

And thus, that nonchalant squarecrow he’d planted onto that couch all those years ago is gone in the blink of an eye. You remembered him ugly and defiant in the moment, but you had overlooked the smirk of anxiety. The way he watched every move you made, the way he rubbed red into the skin of his hands with his fingers itching to drive into something, anything to release the tension. 

I thought I didn’t want it.

A weight settles in your chest as the being of him crawls further into your ribcage, carefully.

“...How do you feel, now?”

Eyes travel from where your touch meets his skin, up to your shoulders, and then to meet your line of sight. His lips twitch, parting, but he’s searching for the words. Searching for you, you realize, reaching and begging to be taken out from the cold. 

“I thought you died earlier.” He blurts. It throws you off guard, but your perturbation is only as long as it takes for him to continue with the ghost of fright still saturating the memory. “After the six-legged race, I thought you died, and it felt like it was my fault.”

 “Hold on, I chose to not join you.” Your brows knit, clutching the fabric of his tracksuit a little tighter. He just shakes his head. 

“If you had died, I don’t know what I would have done. It was only for a few minutes, but fuck. I just kept thinking I shouldn’t have let you say no.”

A cross between amusement and empathy shapes your lips into an uptick, your palm dragging upwards to his bicep. “That’s the problem we keep having, Nam-gyu. When are you gonna’ realize you don’t ‘let me’ do anything?”

“Oh, I know it already. Trust me.” A sigh leaves him but it almost sounds like a scoff. 

The recollection of your momentary loss eats at him. In all the years you’d been gone from his life, a ghost turned into forlorn fleeting blips of memories, you could still read him like your favorite book. Line for line, word for word. Every character and detail etched into your mind, a glorious museum packed to every corner with him, him, him. 

There’s this part of you that’s coming to life again, rising from the ashes not so much like a roaring phoenix but this gentle stream of embers singing the tips of your soul. Like an old battery, a feeling that comes from deep, deep, within. The uncanny urge to sooth out all those tensions stoning over his muscles and push his hair from his face as he always does. 

“I didn’t realize you had been that upset, earlier.”

Which is a lie. Truth be told, when you’d managed to find your feet back into that dormitory, the first thing you sought was him. And he was on you, quick, teary and red. In that moment, you could see the way he felt as though he could breathe again. You all the same- this all consuming relief washing over you like a wave from head to toe. 

He was the first thing on your mind when you’d walked in, and he was the last thing on your mind when you fell asleep that night. 

Nam-gyu’s breath stutters as he nods.

“I almost did.” You murmur, feeling the blitz of terror that’d driven into your heart during your round. “I kept fucking up the spinner, and my teammate lied about knowing how to play Ggongi. Because of us, we barely even made it with a second left. You wanna know something?” It takes a second for him to look you in the eyes, but he does, and you smile pathetically. “I remember thinking to myself, man, I should have gone with you. And then you went and saved my life earlier and I felt like such a…” 

He blinks at you, and you can’t help but laugh. 

“I felt like such a bitch.”

For a couple seconds, he doesn't react, but when he does, he leans back and clicks his tongue. His lips tuck upwards and he’s trying to not smile- your heart soars. 

“You can say it this time,” You giggle, nudging him. “I won’t be mad.”

Another shake of his head, those black strands falling even further from his ear. “Yes you will.”

Tongue swiping out over your lips, you can feel the energy lifting back up, buzzing and trilling like a spring day melting away the laundering billows of snow. Something blooms there with beautiful petals under the sun. 

“You haven't answered my question.” You chirp. He looks at you, and you’ve got him now, all his attention and all his warmth. Subconsciously, you lean towards him. And he does the same. “How do you feel now?”

There’s a heaviness that adopts the space between your bodies. Heartbeats and staggered breaths moving in tandem, a rhythm you knew all too well. All the time apart, bitter and spiteful and angry, just to realize that he’d never truly left the closets of your soul. You knew him like your own self, knew all his fine tunings and the jagged edges of his resentful anxieties.

Nam-gyu takes in the very essence of you with those all seeing eyes of his. 

“I never stopped thinking about you.” 

The world stops turning all at once when he speaks. 

Oh god, how your heart bursts into flames, unaware of how badly you’d been wanting this. Like getting a taste of the finest wine, or a forbidden fruit, so sweet and perfect and dripping down your chin. A confession spills from you in the stream. Years of snuffing out that licking flame just for it to combust into a raging wildfire at his whim. 

You can’t stop yourself. 

“I haven't, either.”

A version of you from three years ago howls out in retribution.

But then it’s hushed with the doe of his expression, leaning in like every word out of your mouth is gospel. His own personal bible, his own personal heaven. When you tell him, his breath leaves him in a broad rush of air.

A  voice echoes over the speakers, chopping chunks out of the palpable tension growing. Lights out in five minutes. 

For a long moment, you both just watch each other. The raw brunt of emotions is palpable, thick over your mind and body like a sheet of yearning tension. 

But Nam-gyu speaks first after he glances towards where your bed had been, gone as the number of players dwindled and the beds were rearranged to compensate. “Where are you sleeping tonight?”

“I found a different bed.” You don’t tell him that you purposely chose an empty bed closer to his, but when you point to it, you can see the pleased expression drawn out from the disappointment. 

“If you get nervous, come to mine.” He says suddenly, and you blink at him. 

“Nervous?”

“Just saying.” Fingers catching his sleeves, bunching the fabric up. “You can if you want.”

‘If you want’. He’s learning after all. 

“I’ll keep that in mind. I’m gonna get to bed, okay? I’ll come talk to you in the morning.” 

You say it so softly, like it could wound him. Perhaps it does regardless, however, because the look he gives you in return is especially pained. Hates that your getting up, hates that there’s going to be meters and meters of metal frame work and sleeping bodies filling the spaces that lead to you. He almost grabs you, fingers popping out from under his sleeves, but he reels himself back in and instead leans back against the wall of the step and watches you. 

Leaning down, you kiss his cheek, and you pretend you don’t notice the way his breath lodges into his throat when you do.

.

It’s quiet that night. This weight has settled over like a blanket of smog threatening to snuff you out everytime your breath leaves your lungs. There’s this irritation stuck within you- a certain twist and churn within your guts that makes you shift positions ceaselessly. The present arguing with the past, years of growth and the endless tumble back down to where you’d begun. The mindless, dangerous joy of landing flat on your back under him all over again. 

Laying on your side doesn’t work, your brain far too busy behind your eyes. You give laying on your back one more shot, eyes staring up at the bottom of the bunk above you, but it doesn’t help. Nam-gyu still floods your mind no matter what you do.

Fuck, you still see him. Those beautiful angles and the slopes of his cheekbones, the feeling of dragging your hands down his shoulders to his chest and marking every last inch. 

He’s saying your name within the confines of your skull, the sound echoing through your dome. 

You’re hearing him now, too? Great. As if it wasn't bad enough before. He’s taking over your mind, your body, and now you’re having to audibly hear him like a teasing ghost paying you visits of desire. You’re the same person you were three years ago, for god’s sake. After all you’d done to move on he’s still there under your skin, working his way through the ridges and bumps of your brain. 

“Hey, are you even awake right now?”

Wait- that’s not in your head. 

You launch up with a gasp sputtering in your throat, eaten by the sudden lurching fear of a dark figure leaning over your bed. The knee jerk reaction to scream fails you, as does your strength when the figure leans in close and you try to shove them away hopelessly. 

“Stop, stop! I’m not gonna’ do anything.”

Oh, it is Nam-gyu. He’s just decided to come and sneak up beside your bed like a creep in the darkness and properly scare the living daylights out of you. The sudden plummet of your nerves makes you wheeze out a sigh of relief and you toss yourself flat onto your mattress. Your hands cover your face, dragging the skin down in irritation. 

“I thought I was going to die.” You hissed.

“Come on. Seriously?” He sat at the edge of your bed, and you’re so fucking relieved it’s not some random player coming to sweeten the pot, that you let him without a word. 

“I didn’t realize it was you.”

“Who else would it be? Thanos?” 

“Yes, actually.” You smirk at him through your fingers. “That’d really bust your balls, wouldn’t it?”

“Don’t say that shit.” He grunts, huffing. “You being serious?”

He looks pathetic, even despite the way his brows collect in annoyance. You used to find that cute about him- all angry and ruffled on the outside but always this anxious, soft little thing on the inside. So pent up with nowhere to go, clinging to the few things that he gives a shit about but no means to show it. 

You still do find it cute. At least a little bit, anyways. You must because you find your lips tugging upwards before you can stop them. 

“No, obviously. Your friend is fucking weird.” Saying it like he isn’t weird, too, is a funny thing. But his weird is different in your eyes- better. 

You start to wonder if maybe things were changing, again. Reverting and revisiting a side of yourself he’d forced you to abandon. 

You also start to wonder if that's a good thing. It’s hard to tell with Nam-gyu. He has a way of making the things so terrible for you feel so, so good. 

He’s just sitting there in silence, thinking harder than you’ve ever seen him think. The tenacity of him is something new- which is crazy, because you truly had thought you’d seen all the in’s and the out’s of him. 

“Can’t sleep?” Your voice drags him out of his trance. 

The floor lights illuminate a glow in his eyes when he turns to look at you again, those dark hues far away. When he doesn’t answer, and you fully take in the somberness of him, you have this urge from deep within your soul. An insatiable itch that you’d refused to admit to yourself you’d been longing for the last three years. You swallow hard, your mouth opens and closes, struggling to get the words out.

“...Do you want to lay with me?”

It’s like inviting the vampire into your home knowingly.

Nam-gyu doesn’t linger for even a second. Maybe he’s afraid you’ll change your mind if he doesn’t jump on the chance, or perhaps he’d been desperate to be at your side since you’d left him that day. You weren’t sure- not really, but he was throwing himself at your side in the blink of an eye.

Even worse, his arms are already snaking around your body, finding you against himself in the darkness. Entitled to your body, and taking your air with him. A part of you has this immediate suspension- or more like, an experienced worry that those long fingers of his are going to try and explore down your body until they find something all too warm and familiar, but just like the look on his face moments ago, somethings different about him. Something longing, feeling. 

He drags your back against his chest and he cages you in his grasp and he buries his face into your hair, breathes you in so deeply you’d think he’s getting high off your scent. Squeezing you so tight like he can’t believe he’s really got you. He even brings the blanket over you and pats it over your shoulders before he nestles in against your body.

“Nam-gyu,” You whisper, and he hums in response. “What are you doing?”

As if you aren’t actively letting him, as if you aren’t feeling all your tensions melt away in his hold. A puzzle piece settled back into its place after so long it ached. 

His response is quiet, broken up. Words you never thought you’d ever hear leave his lips. 

“I missed you.”

Between his confession and his breath on your neck, you shiver. A full body wrack that makes you crack your eyes open in the darkness. 

“Yeah?” Your voice is equally as wavering.

He just nods and clutches you tighter. He’s never been this sweet with you- not even when things were good. And then he goes and surprises you again for the second, or third, time since he’s slinked into your bed. 

“When we leave here, give me another chance.”

The fence you’ve stuck atop of is mighty tall with a great leap on either side. One side him and all his backage, the other, lonely peace. To go through all that bullshit again might actually kill you. And fuck, you’ve done it, you’re out. You’re on the other side and untethered to him after so long, but he’s so warm next to you, and he’s saying the things you used to imagine in your weakest hours…

“You’re serious about this?” You ask, barely above a whisper.

He can’t say it, but he can nod against the cradle of your neck. 

“...And you’ll be my boyfriend?” You’re chewing the inside of your cheek, putting heavy emphasis on the label, making sure it rings true through that thick skull of his. 

Another nod. Your breath stutters in your fluttering chest. It’s slow, hesitating, but it’s there and you’re rolling over to face him through the dim lights. In this light, you can see certain parts of him that you’d seldom ever been able to touch. This softness, endearment that you caught fleeting glimpses of in his afterglows. Vulnerable. 

Your fingers find the sides of his face and he reacts like they’ve got their own gravitational pull, putty in your hold. Your touch is like warmth in the cold, like shelter within the storm. Life over all else. 

“So say it, then. Tell me you’re mine.”

He presses his lips into a tight line. “You already know I am.”

“Say it.” Dragging your thumb over his lower lip. “Say it so I can kiss you.”

You can see, you can feel the way light soars into those dark, dark eyes. His lips part. 

“I’m yours.”

Nam-gyu’s lips against yours, fingertips ghosting the mound of your cheekbone. 

It’s like coming home again. 

Sweet and gentle and nothing like you’d ever had the fortune of sharing with him. Kisses with him were always so urgent and demanding, but this was void of anything other than the yearn of finding yourself again. It’s the most intimate moment you’ve ever had with him, you think, in the middle of a packed room inches from death.

So intimate, that when he pulls away to gauge you, you drag him down by his collar for another. 

The flat of his palm cups the side of your face, and you hold the fabric of his suit to keep him right there. Deeper, this time. 

Too long for him was a beast of its own entirely, one that grew claws in your nail beds as you buried your hands in his thick black hair and let yourself melt into pools of honey around him. He’s equally so fervent, passion radiating off him like an aura, all hands and twisting arms and his body covering your own. Your back is flat to the bed and he’s overtop of you, so familiar but so different from before. Real and raw. He’s gripping a fist into the pillow beside your head, the blanket shifting off the bunk entirely and pooling onto the floor, forgotten. 

You pant when he breaks away, his hair tickling your face. He kissed your cheek, your jaw, and you’re excited to find his lips at your neck but instead he just kisses your jugular and buries his face within your collarbone. 

You wait for him to try to take it further. To claim the prize he’d really been working for- that sickly-sweet nectar between your legs that always seemed far too eager to drag him in. But he doesn't, and he’s quiet, and he’s breathing in your scent. 

And you haven't felt better in years. Clicked into place, even with the plane. 

“Okay.” You pant., find his shoulders and trace lines down his back, marveling in his twitching muscles under your ghost light touches.

“Okay?” His breath is hot against your skin. 

You pull him from the crook of your neck and pet down his face. He kisses your hand and you can’t stop this foolish grin from spreading over your face. A single nod.

“Okay. I’ll stay with you.”

He stops breathing. 

“For the game… Or, afterwards…?”

“For the game and afterwards. If we make it out.”

All of his weight settles at once, as though you’d pulled the pounds lodged onto his shoulders off entirely. 

“We will make it out.” His brows twitch together, caught between the cocktail of relief and trepidation, realizing that he could lose you all over again. He props himself up over you before he leans back on his knees, your waist trapped underneath his weight. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows. “You don’t know that.”

The moment you start to get up, he feels the need to flatten you back out under him with those hands of his. And you’re just as happy to do so- watching him towering over you before he lays at your side and wrenches you against his curling form. He kisses the back of your neck, chaste and soft until your skin flutters under each one. 

“Whatever happens,” You murmur, running your fingers over his knuckles. “I’ll stay with you.”

“We’ll make it out. I’ll make sure of it.” One more kiss to the back of your neck before he nuzzles you into him. 

It feels right. It feels like being rewarded, like getting the thing you wanted most in life. You bring his hand up to your lips just so you can dot kisses another his wrist. 

“I’ll hold you to that.”

[unriding]

ᘏ AUTHOR’S NOTE — hihi welcome to my 2024 kinktober! this a repost since i moved blogs, but a couple prompts have been added.

TO BE TAGGED, please leave a comment & mention which ones you’d like to be tagged in. or! you can fill out this form. either one is fine! however, you must be 18+ and have your age visible anywhere on your blog in order to interact. make sure to take a quick peek at the warnings too! happy (early) october ^^

ᘏ FANDOMS & INFO — wind breaker, my hero academia, honkai star rail, haikyuu, and blue lock too. there are fifteen drabbles and two lengthy fics included = seventeen posts for october! (｀∇ ´) ψ

OCTOBER 1 - OVERSTIMULATION

KAJI REN X F!READER ﾉ 1112 words ﾉ the game? three bottles of flavored lube. kaji’s turn to guess. and you? you just have to lay there and let him get a proper taste first.

ᘏ ft. cunninglingus, blindfolded (kaji), fingering, overstimulation

OCTOBER 3 - CUCKOLDING

HAYATO SUO X AFAB!READER ﾉ 1096 words ﾉ FICS4GAZA ﾉ sakura doesn’t think he’s ever held his phone in his non-dominant hand… until tonight.

ᘏ ft. consensual recording, cuckolding (sakura), + masturbation, overstimulation, very light choking, creampie, mention of toys

OCTOBER 5 - MASK KINK

ENDO YAMATO X F!READER ﾉ 1189 words ﾉ endo thought you were joking about masks being hot, but … if you really like them so much, then maybe he’ll put on a show just for you.

ᘏ ft. mask kink, very consensual fear play, both degradation & praise

OCTOBER 7 - SUCCUBUS?!

SAKURA HARUKA X SUCCUBUS!F!READER ﾉ 1126 words ﾉ there’s no better way to lose your virginity than to a succubus, right? do those even exist? he was skeptical before he met you.

ᘏ ft. virginity loss (both), aphrodisiac, creampie

OCTOBER 9 - PREDATOR/PREY

GALLAGHER (HSR) X F!READER ﾉ 1667 words ﾉ delivering this basket to your grandmother sounds easy enough, but they didn’t warn you about whatever seems to be lurking at the end ﾉ in other words.. you act out the fairytale: little red riding hood

ᘏ ft. consensual noncon (cnc), predator / prey dynamics, muffling (his glove), oral (receiving) overstimulation, fingering + squirting

OCTOBER 11 - PET PLAY

KIRYU MITSUKI X F!READER ﾉ 902 words ﾉ you think he just likes seeing you embarrassed at this point. tonight, it’s worse than ever before, and he’s loving every single second of it.

ᘏ ft. pet play, toys (anal plug), praise, pet names, double stuffed

OCTOBER 13 - DRY HUMPING

NESS (BLLK) X F!READER! ﾉ 923 words ﾉ it’s not allowed. he knows this. but he can’t help that it gets a little harder not to claim you as his whenever you come back for more.

ᘏ ft. dry humping to wall sex, dirty talk, marking, possessiveness, forbidden relationship, mentions of fingering, face sitting, creampies

OCTOBER 15 - IN UNIFORM

KUROO TETSUROU (HQ) X F!READER ﾉ 1190 words ﾉ there’s about five minutes left on the clock before your coworker comes back.

ᘏ ft. maid cafe, exhibitionism, time crunch for kuroo, squirting

OCTOBER 17 - APHRODISIACS

DAN HENG (HSR) X F!READER ﾉ 1469 words ﾉ it’s only natural that you’d try to play it off, especially when he had already warned you about this ahead of time. your bad, you’ll admit. unfortunately for you though, this aphrodisiac is one of the strongest, and it won’t be going away anytime soon.

ᘏ ft. aphrodisiacs, mutual pining, wall sex, squirting from putting it in

OCTOBER 19 - GHOSTS!

GHOST! HAYATO SUO X F!READER ﾉ 742 words ﾉ SFW ﾉ you seem to be the only one who doesn’t mind the ghost that trails behind you. your friends want to hire someone to get rid of him, but you seem to be weirdly defensive over something that’s supposed to be haunting you.

ᘏ ft. protective suo (this time in a cute way), ghosts, etc

OCTOBER 21 - SCARY MOVIE

ENDO YAMATO X F!READER ﾉ 841 words ﾉ SFW ﾉ you’ve had some bad ideas, but this one has to be your worst. halloween night, sitting side by side with the man who has it in his dna to tease you, rank #1 for scariest movies in existence playing on the big TV, and your friends. the friends you’ve somehow managed to convince (through a dragged out lie) that there’s absolutely nothing in the world that can scare you.

ᘏ ft. horror movies, reader is a bit scared, + endo comfort !!

OCTOBER 23 - YANDERE

YANDERE!UMEMIYA HAJIME X F!READER ﾉ 838 words ﾉ no one would dare hurt umemiya’s girl. they shouldn’t. they wouldn’t dare. but after some time.. he thinks he should give them another reminder. it wouldn’t hurt.

ᘏ ft. yandere, creampies, overstimulation, praise, size kink, marking, soft possessiveness, reader wears a skirt, catcalling (not from ume)

OCTOBER 25 - CAMGIRL

HAYATO SUO X F!READER ﾉ 3520 words ﾉ you always do what the highest tipper says, but looks like that’s backfired! “bring someone to fuck you raw on your next stream” but oh. you don’t have a boyfriend, do you? so the second best option would be to swallow your pride and ask one of your friends.

ᘏ ft. streaming (audience), camgirl! reader, dry humping, creampie, overstimulation, squirting, virginity loss (reader), teasing, tba

OCTOBER 27 - TOYS

TAKIISHI CHIKA X F!READER! 937 words ﾉ a fun dinner with your friends? unfortunately, the group is one chair short, so it’s a given that the couple shares. takiishi wonders which will give it away first: the buzzing between your legs, or the faces you’re making? you seem to be doing an alright job (much to his dismay) but one push should do it.

ᘏ ft. exhibitionism (hinted that endo knows), mentions of fingering & potential threesome, toy usage, reader wears a skirt, risk

OCTOBER 29 - DEALS

DABI (MHA) X HERO!F!READER ﾉ 890 words ﾉ what happens when your curiosity takes you to the league of villains’ hideout? luckily enough, there’s only one of them there to greet you— and the world seems kind enough to let you off with a deal. fuck him once to guarantee his silence, or so you thought.

ᘏ ft. tw dubcon, forced orgasms, fear play, mentions of murder, etc

OCTOBER 30 - MACHINES

MR. RECA (HSR) X F!READER! 753 words ﾉ your voice is a bit too quiet for films. he says to consider this a vocal warm-up— just some personalized training he’s given you to combat your shyness on set, but you think otherwise.

ᘏ ft. clear power imbalance (professor x student), blindfolding (reader), overstimulation & mindbreak (reader), pet names used once

OCTOBER 31 - ROOMMATES

HOUSEKEEPING! — TOGAME JO X F!READER! ﾉ 7784 words ﾉ you don’t realize how loud you are, do you? or are the walls just paper thin? his patience seems to also be running thin, but he’s always thought of himself as someone who tries to be a pretty decent guy most of the time. a decent enough guy that doesn’t fantasize about fucking choji’s childhood friend raw, at the very least.

ᘏ ft. masturbation (kind of caught), size difference, thigh fucking, creampie, semi-possessive togame glimpse at the end, etc

[veltana]

Riding into the night - Biker!Bucky/Reader

✦ Pairing: Biker!Bucky Barnes/Fem!Reader ✦ Word count: ~7,8k ✦ Rating: Explicit ✦ Warnings/tags: AU, kind of soft!dark!Bucky, smut, fluff, past asshole partners mentioned, squirting, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, spanking, spitting, edging, dirty talk, praise, degradation if you squint, breeding kink if you squint, manhandling, vaginal sex, condom, cum shot, pet names (Fairy). ✦ Summary: One of the bikers caught your attention as they tumbled inside. Tall, broad, covered in tattoos, and wearing a leather vest. Essentially no different from the rest of the gang. But those blue eyes met yours and for a second the world stood still. It was only you and him. ✦ Note: I don't know how to play pool, just go with it! 😂 This is also posted on my AO3

Masterlist | AO3

It was Yelena's bachelorette party and after dinner and clubbing, she insisted you find a less respectable place to round out the night.

That’s how you end up in the sleazy bar at the edge of town that smells of sweat, stale beer, and badly fried food. The drinks are watered down but it doesn't tamper the mood of the party, because they have a few pool tables strewn about, and you never miss an opportunity to crush your friends with a few good games. The only problem is the group of bikers that rolled in fifteen minutes ago, filling up the rather empty bar with their loud voices.

As you're bending over the table to aim you can't shake the feeling of being watched. It throws off your concentration and you don’t hit the ball where you want, making you fail the shot. Righting yourself you sigh with irritation.

"That's not like you," Natasha points out as she gets ready for her turn. With a shrug you say, "Maybe I'd just had too much to drink." Yelena snorts, "I've seen you drunk enough to barely stand and still beat everyone." She waggles her eyebrows, "I think it's a pair of blue eyes that's distracting you."

You give her the finger, but you know exactly what she's talking about. One of the bikers caught your attention as they tumbled inside. Tall, broad, covered in tattoos, and wearing a leather vest. Essentially no different from the rest of the gang. But those blue eyes met yours and for a second the world stood still. It was only you and him. It felt as if diving into a clear blue lake on a hot summer day with not a problem in the world for you to care about. Then you realized you were staring and quickly looked away, breaking the small hypnosis.

Despite having had the most to drink all night, Yelena's observation skills never evade her. She saw what happened and she'd be damned if she let an opportunity to taunt you go to waste.

Quickly shooting a glance at the table, you find the man with the blue eyes. Unabashedly he's staring at you from where he sits. The others around him are talking, laughing, being rowdy, but not him. He takes a drink from his beer in silence, tattooed fingers holding the bottle, and never once does his gaze waver from you. His dark hair is in a ponytail but small strands have broken free to be tucked behind his ears.

You wouldn't say you have a type, but if you did, it wouldn't be him. You like nice guys. So far not anyone you've dated has had a single tattoo. On the other hand, you don't have to date him to fuck him. And that is something you're in desperate need of.

"And now she doesn't even realize it's her turn!" Carol breaks you from your musings and you look at the pool table. Shaking out your shoulders you try to dispel the feeling of eyes boring into your neck. Surveying what you have in front of you, a plan forms in your mind.

"Oh, I know that look!" Natasha shouts unnecessarily loud. She’s had the second most to drink through the night. You and Carol on the other hand are as close to sober as it gets.

Taking a breath, you get into position. In quick succession, you hit three shots dead on and they go right where they should, but when you move to the fourth, Carol is leaning against the edge. "You're in the way," you tell her. "I know!" she smiles. "Can you move?" "No, unfortunately not."

You try to push her off but she's solid muscles. Natasha and Yelena laugh at your failed attempts. "You know I'm going to win this anyway, right?" "I don't have to make it easy for you," she points out.

There is only one other option if you want to make the shot. So you climb up, sitting down on the edge to lean awkwardly past Carol. Just as you move the cue, she taps the edge, causing it to graze the top of the ball and then slide off. "Hey!" Hopping down, you poke her with the stick. "That's cheating!" "It's not like you to miss, are you feeling okay?" she grins. "You're such a sore loser, you know that?" "I have no idea what you're talking about." "My turn!" Natasha yells and shoves you to the side.

You take a few steps back and walk into something solid. Craning your neck to look up over your shoulder you freeze. It's him. The heat from his chest warms you and you're enveloped in his smell of fuel, beer, and cologne that is in no way unpleasant. "How about I buy you a drink as compensation for losing?” his smooth voice asks. That should make you mad because technically you didn't lose, Carol sabotaged you, but it's hard to conjure those feelings when your insides feel as if they’re liquefying. Instead, you nod dumbly before turning to your friends.

"Hey, is it okay-," you start but Yelena won't let you finish. She just waves her hand in a shooing motion and the others don't acknowledge your supposed question. "I'm just going to put this back," you gesture with your cue, but another, equally tall biker comes up beside the man with the blue eyes.

His hair is shorter and blond, cute, but not as drop-dead gorgeous as the other. "I'll take it, play your last rounds," he smiles and grabs the stick, before making his way to your friends.

With a grin, the man with the blue eyes nods his head towards the bar and you follow the short distance. When both of you have taken your places on the high chairs he asks, "What do you want?" "Just a beer's fine," you shrug. He orders from the bartender and then turns to you. "I'm Bucky," he says. After introducing yourself you ask, "Is that your real name or is it your ‘biker-name’?". He chuckles and puts a strand of long hair behind his ear. "It's actually a nickname I've had since I was a kid. And Steve," he gestures to the big guy who took your pool cue earlier, "Has always called me that. My legal name is James."

"But you prefer Bucky?" He shrugs, "I don't think anyone has called me James in a long time." "It's a pretty name, but Bucky sounds cooler. Way more biker!” you smile. That makes him laugh and you find yourself beaming. There is just something about him. He looks tough on the outside but you have a feeling he's a big teddy bear on the inside, and hearing him laugh makes you giddy.

The beer gets lower in your glass as you talk. He buys you another one but is still sipping on his first. "Not a fan of beer?" you ask. "I want to be able to get home in one piece later, and getting drunk is a recipe for crashing." "Have you ever crashed?" "Multiple times, but never anything severe." "What kind of bike do you have?" "I can show you." There is a glint in his eyes that makes your gut clench most pleasantly. "I would love to!"

When you hop off the stool, you lose your balance for a second. Yelena insisted that you all wear heels but you're not used to it in any way. Luckily, Bucky is quick with his arm, putting it around your waist and pulling you into his side to steady you. "Woah there, lightweight. I didn’t know anyone could get drunk off that beer." "I'm not drunk, it's these damn shoes! lost my balance!" "I better keep my arm around you, just to be safe." His smile is warm and playful and it’s as if his touch is burning your skin through your clothes. Your heart speeds up, fingertips tingle. "Yeah, just to be safe," you answer in a low voice.

His eyelids lower, blue eyes turning stormy. Electricity crackles between you and you wonder what he tastes like. But making out in the middle of a bar feels weird so instead you say, "About the bike?" "Yeah, the bike,” he murmurs and it takes a second or two for him to start moving again.

Before you leave, you stop by the pool table where the majority of the bikers have joined the small party. Someone has taken the tiara Yelena previously wore and put it on Steve's head. Another guy is wearing her sash. She's telling them about her wife-to-be, showing them all the cute pictures she's taken of Kate. As you pass Natasha you tell her, "We're just going to look at his bike." She eyes you up and down. "If that is some biker-slang for sex, just say that instead."

Bucky howls with laughter as you punch her in the arm, telling her to fuck off. She brushes her skin. "I think there are mosquitoes in here."

Before you can give her a piece of your mind Bucky drags you outside. It’s a warm evening and you’re glad because you only have a thin blouse on. "You're not a mosquito,” he comforts. “You’re too pretty for that, more like a fairy covered in all that glitter.” Your tummy loops when he calls you pretty and you look down at yourself. At some point, Carol had produced a can of glitter spray to drench all of you in. "I think there is a joke in there about sucking, but I can't find it right now,” you tell him instead, which makes him chuckle before stopping in front of a huge black bike. It's one of those chopper-esc things, not the sporty kind, and in the light from the streets, it looks menacing. "That's a monster," you point out. "It's not that bad." "It's standing still and I'm scared of it."

Bucky moves you from his side to the front of him, making you take a few steps closer. Then he grabs your wrist and puts your hand on the handlebar. "See, it's not so scary," his voice is low, right by your ear, making you shiver. "Yeah, it is," you mumble. "Promise I won't let anything happen to you if you hop on." You look up at him over your shoulder. "You underestimate how clumsy I am. What if it tips over?" "It won't," "Just, don't kill me when it happens, okay?"

What he says next is so faint you almost don't catch it. "There are other punishments I would rather use." Somehow your brain filters that into the purely sexual category and another shiver runs through you. Yeah, Bucky seems like the person who would administer sexual punishments. That is something you've never explored before but it still sends a tingle of excitement down your stomach.

Ignoring it for the moment you swing your leg over the saddle and settle on the seat. The tank in front of you has a huge red star on it and you trace it with your fingertips. "How does that feel?" he smiles down at you. The shadows make him look as menacing as his bike but he feels a lot less scary.

"Okay, I guess," you shrug and try to reach the handlebars but your arms are too short to properly grip them. "How do you even…?" "Scoot over and I'll show you." He gestures and you slide backward before he gets on like he's never done anything else in his life, gripping the handles without a problem.

"Should I start it up?" he asks over his shoulder. You shake your head vigorously, "Absolutely not!" He gets off the bike, just to straddle it the opposite way so he's turned towards you. First, he grabs your legs and puts them over his thighs, then pulls you closer with his hands on your waist. Your breathing gets shallow being so close to him. "Then how am I supposed to take you home, Fairy?" You grab a hold of his vest to steady yourself. "You wanna take me home?" "It's all I've been thinking about since I walked through the door tonight," he confesses.

"Oh," you just answer. His hands are warm through your blouse, the blue eyes piercing despite the low light. There is no denying you want him, you do, but going off with a stranger makes you weary. "Come on Fairy, tell me you don't feel the same?" "Yeah I do, it's just that I don't know you." You brush your hands inside his vest, letting them travel over the broad expanse of his chest, feeling him through his t-shirt.

For a moment you sit quietly and touch each other. Your brain is going a million miles per hour, weighing pros and cons. Bucky doesn’t seem like a psychopath who will rape and murder you. But on the other hand, he might as well be. "Then how about this," he suggests. "I go back in there and let your friends take a pic of me, leave my address and if you don't check in by midnight they can call the police." Your mouth hangs open. "You want to fuck me that bad?"

"I don't think you understand," he seems a little frustrated and his hands harden at your waist even though his voice stays soft. Leaning down, brushing his nose against yours, he explains, "Not only are you the sexiest thing I've seen in a long while. You're gorgeous. On top of that, I've learned in the last hour, that you’re funny and sweet too. So indulge me, let me take you home and show you just how good I can make you feel."

Your mouth is dry as a desert. No one has ever spoken to you like that before. No one has in such a short time made you feel so desired. Finally, you decide to go with your gut, hoping it’s not going to turn out to be a terrible mistake. "Okay, Bucky," you nod.

With a wicked smile, he gets off the bike and walks back to the bar. You take out your phone and quickly write in the group chat, telling them your location is on and sending them a picture of his bike with the red star showing.

It takes longer for Bucky to come back than you thought it would and when he emerges, you notice his vest is gone. "What happened?" "That red-headed friend of yours gave me a stern talking to, and made me leave the vest." "Why?" "She said it seemed important to me, and you're important to her, and if I do something to hurt you she's going to do unspeakable things to the vest and my reputation."

That makes you laugh. Natasha may antagonize you on a regular basis but she's also fiercely protective.

He snatches a helmet from the bike beside and turns to you. "Ever ridden one of these before?" "Not a motorcycle! I've ridden a regular bike." He huffs at that before listing off some do's and don'ts. "But the most important thing," he finishes. "Is that you hold on to me really tight." He smirks, before putting the helmet on your head, tightening the straps. It's a little big but you don't think it will come off.

Bucky gets on and the bike roars to life. Telling you to hold on to him was unnecessary because the moment the sound and feel of the bike hits you, your arms go around his waist and grab onto his clothes. Your heart is hammering and you feel a nervous sweat run down your neck. He never puts a helmet on and before you know it you're flying down the streets.

You have no idea how much time passes or where you are in the city since you’re devoting all of your concentration to hanging onto him. Finally, he slows down and drives into a parking garage attached to a high-rise building. Cars stand in neat rows and he parks in an unoccupied space before getting off.

With shaky fingers, you try to open the clasp to the helmet but fail three times before he notices and does it for you. "That bad huh?" he asks as he hangs the helmet on the handle. "I don't think I can stand," you confess.

As you get off, Bucky holds you to his chest until the ground stabilizes around you. You take the opportunity to study him. There are crow's feet at the edge of his eyes that tell you he smiles a lot. Above the cleft in his chin is his full lips that you've been eyeing for most of the evening. They look soft and delicious.

Your hands travel up and braid behind his neck. Experimentally you pull, seeing if he'll follow, and he does. "I think a kiss would also help," you hint. "Who am I to say no," he hums in response.

As he bends down, you rise up and your lips meet halfway. At first, it's slow but you're both a bit desperate and it quickly gets heavier. Your finger loosens the hair tie and tangles in his long strands, pulling lightly, drawing a pleased sound from his throat. In response, he cups your ass and lifts you off the ground to pull you closer. A surprised moan leaves you before you wrap your legs around his waist and he starts walking. He breaks away just so he can find the button for the elevator, then he is right back to your lips.

Inside, he presses you up against the wall hard enough to get his hands free. They slide up your sides, in under your blouse, making you sigh into his mouth from contentment, fisting the hair at the nape of his neck harder, pressing him closer. Too quickly, but also not quickly enough the elevator dings with the announcement of its arrival on the floor.

Once again Bucky carries you to the door where he fumbles with the keys before getting it open, never breaking from your mouth.

You don't see much of the inside of his apartment because as soon as the door shuts you start pulling at his clothes, wanting them off, to feel his warm skin. The sheets are blue and the bed soft you notice as he places you down on it. With pants and blouse off, the next thing that goes is your bra and he stops the feverish kissing long enough to take you in.

"Fairy," his voice is grovely. "Fuck!" Is all he says before he gently cups your tits, thumbing your nipples and drawing small pleased sounds from you. The fabric of your panties is soaked and every pass over your sensitive peaks shoots another bolt of desire through you.

"Bucky! Can you… please!" you try. It's hard to form words. In an alarmingly short period, he’s got you unbelievably horny and all you can think about is that you need to be touched, to come!

Still playing with your tits he asks, "What do you need Fairy? Tell me what I can do for you." "Take the rest of your damn clothes off and eat me out, or finger me, or something! I'm dying!" "We don't want that now do we?" he smirks and bends down enough to give each of your nipples a kiss. When the last of his clothes go, you suck in a breath because he looks fucking divine. Just like his arms and fingers, his chest and abdomen are covered in tattoos but it doesn't hide the powerful muscles underneath. “You are… wow…” you tell him and swallow roughly. Before you have time to inspect every swirl of ink, he climbs onto the bed and starts up where he left off. His mouth trailing down from your sternum, over your stomach, dragging his teeth tantalizingly over your hip bones, kissing your mound before carefully ridding you of your underwear.

He spreads you with his thumbs, moaning when he sees how wet you are. "Fairy, I think your cunt likes me," he teases. You're about to grip his head and shove his mouth to where you need it, telling him to shut up and get going, but luckily he doesn’t waste any more time.

The cry of pleasure that leaves your mouth is probably heard by the neighbors. Feeling him work you over sends your head spinning and your body twitching. With his tongue and his lips, he tries different pressures and speeds just to see what makes you moan the loudest. "Fingers, Bucky! I need your fingers!" you tell him and seconds later two thick digits start pumping in and out of you, crooking every now and then to find the right spot.

It builds inside you in no time, the dual sensation making it brilliant. But what you feel as you near the edge makes you put your hands against his forehead, pushing and saying, "Wait! Bucky, stop." Hastily he pulls away, fingers leaving you, eyes wide and confused as he sits up. "What is it? Did I hurt you?"

Panting heavily, trying to get your quivering body under control, you wave your hand. "No, no, it's fine! Don't worry!" Then he dares touch you again. His hands slide up and down your inner thighs in a soothing gesture. "Tell me what's wrong. Do you want to stop?" His voice is as soft as his gaze on you.

"God no, I don't want to stop! It's just, ehm…" you feel the embarrassment in your chest, heating you from the inside in an unpleasant way. "Please tell me, Fairy. We can do whatever you want." You try to explain in as roundabout terms as possible, "Sometimes… when it's really good… I can't control what my body does." If you had been smart you would have had this conversation before getting into bed with him, but you weren’t, so now you have to face the unpleasant consequences. "Fairy, what are you saying?" Burying your face in your hands you continue, "Sometimes it's only a little and sometimes it's a lot, but I don't know beforehand so it's better to stop and let me calm down a bit."

There is a beat of silence before his command cuts through it, "Look at me." Slowly you lower your hands. "Were you about to squirt?" he asks point blank. "I hate that word,” you mutter. "Tell me, Fairy," he commands again. "Yes, I'm sorry. I can't control it, it happens!” You’ve had this conversation before, usually after it was already too late and you know how it goes. Luckily you remembered to stop. You’re not sure you would have been able to live it down if it had happened with Bucky. But he does not look happy at all, his eyes near slits, and you reach out towards him, letting your palms graze along his arms to placate him. “I've calmed down now so we can keep going if you want. It rarely happens when I have sex so we can just do that!"

"No," his cold tone answers and your stomach drops. Before you can crawl off the bed to go home he says, "Turn over, ass up, head down." "Bucky, I can just…" You aim your thumb at the door but he doesn’t acknowledge the gesture, only telling you, "Do it, Fairy."

Confused but also curious you turn over on your stomach and bring your knees in under you, doing as you’re told. His hands start making slow steady circles over your ass, caressing and squeezing. "Have you ever been spanked before?" "What?" "You heard me. Have you?" "No… not really…" "So, because you robbed me of your fountain orgasm I'm going to spank you as a punishment. And then you're going to turn over again and I'm going to make you come until you've ruined the sheets. Are we clear, Fairy?" "But, I just thought-,” you begin but he interrupts you. "Whatever someone has said to you before to make you think that you don't deserve to come as hard as you can, makes me so fucking angry. I want all of your pleasure, Fairy, and you're going to give it to me. Understand?" Once again you’re surprised by his words and you give yourself the benefit of the doubt that he knows what he’s in for. With a soft voice, you tell him, "I understand Bucky," and arch your back, showing him that you're ready. "Fucking beautiful."

The sting to your ass is more pleasure than pain. With every impact from his hand, a jolt goes to your cunt. If you were wet before, you're dripping by the time he declares you're done. Each of your ass cheeks gets a kiss before he pushes at your hip and makes you lay on your back again, the sheets cool against your heated skin. He crawls up over you, giving you a long hard kiss. "How are you feeling?" "Very horny," you confess. "Ready to come for me?" "Absolutely, Bucky!"

In no time, he’s back between your legs and starts as he did before, licking and tasting you until you're begging for his fingers. The combination of your slick and his saliva have wetness running down your ass, making a puddle below you. Since you were already so close before you made him stop, it doesn't take long for the coil to wind tight in your lower belly. It’s the same feeling as earlier and you warn him before it happens. "Bucky, I'm going to come!" For a second he lets up to tell you, "Please do, Fairy, I want every last drop."

Maybe it's because of the unplanned edging together with the spanking or it's because Bucky knows exactly what to do with his hands and mouth, or everything combined, but when you arch off the bed with a mind-boggling orgasm, the sides of your vision go hazy and your legs spasm hard. You think you hear Bucky moan but the blood is rushing in your ears.

Panting worse than before you sink into the bed, body lax with the release and you look down to see the unmistakable sign of your climax. Not only are your thighs wet, but the sheets are a shade or two darker, and Bucky is wiping his smirking face with the edge of the cover.

Biting your lip you try to not feel too much shame, but it's hard after years of being told it's disgusting. Although he said he wanted it, maybe he didn't know what he signed up for. "Sorry," you finally say. "Don't ever say that to me again after coming, Fairy. That was fucking amazing!" "Everything is wet." "Everything can be washed," he reassures you. Then he gets off the bed to rummage through a drawer, pulling out a condom. When he turns to you he says, "Now be a good little Fairy and grab your legs for me so I can fuck that sweet cunt of yours."

You watch with anticipation as he rolls the condom on before you pull your legs up, holding behind your knees. As he gets on the bed again, he takes a second to swipe his cock-head through your slick, lubing himself up, but you're impatient, whining and wiggling to get him inside.

"Yeah, yeah, don't worry, you'll get my cock," he’s trying to scold you but it gets lost when he can’t take his eyes away from the view of pressing inside you. The sensation being carried from your cunt throughout your body as he steadily fills you more and more makes your breathing labored and your hands clamping down on your legs harder. "God, that's a pretty fucking pussy taking all my cock," his voice is so low it travels through you like a baseline. Slowly he pulls out and presses in again, mesmerized by what he's seeing, but for you, it's just pure torture.

"Bucky, I need more!" you beg. His answer isn't to fuck you harder or faster like you want. Instead, he spits on your exposed cunt, making you gasp before he presses a thumb against your oversensitive clit. A loud moan rips from your throat and your legs shake. “You get so fucking tight when I touch your clit, feels amazing!”

He keeps the thumb still as he fucks you. Slow, deep thrusts that keep you right on the edge of coming. If he just moved his finger and sped up a little you'd be flying again. But he seems determined to drag this out, his groans and moans are telling you that he's enjoying it very much. Bucky's eyes keep shifting from your face to your chest, down to where you're connected, watching his cock spear you.

Suddenly he removes his hand, but before you can sound a word of protest he's leaned forward, using both his hands to grab the back of your neck. He bends your head down and lifts you from the bed a little until there is no mistake what he wants you to see. “Watch your pussy take all of my cock, Fairy. It belongs there. As if it was fucking made for me. Sucking me right back in every time I pull out.”

Briefly, he lets you have what you need, fucking you faster, slamming into you, making you feel him deep as you watch your body take him over and over again. You understand why he can’t stop watching. It’s filthy at the same time it turns you on more. In desperation, you reach down to touch yourself but he lets you go, making you bounce against the bed slightly before batting your hands away. Then he pulls out and you cry in protest. “No! Bucky! I wanna come! Fuck me!”

Sweat is glistening on his naked chest and his cock stands out from his body, the condom shiny with your slick, but he doesn't acknowledge your plea, only tells you. “On your stomach. Grab a pillow and put it under your hips.”

The pulse in your cunt is uncomfortable, almost unbearable, and you glare at him, having half a mind to just finish off yourself and get some god damned relief. Bucky raises an eyebrow in question as to why you're not doing as he says. With an irritated huff, you turn over, grabbing a pillow and stuffing it under your hips, folding your arms and laying your head on them with a pout, clearly showing him that you're not happy.

The swat to your ass makes you yelp since it's much harder than when he spanked you earlier. It earns him a glare over your shoulder. “Don't be bratty, Fairy,” he reprimands you before his knees push your legs wider and he presses into you swiftly again. He pulls your hands out from under your head, lacing your fingers together before laying down on top of you, kissing your shoulder.

“We were having such a good time,” he says as he starts fucking you again. The new angle makes his dick press right against your g-spot, forcing a whine out of you. Even though you don’t want to give him the satisfaction you can’t help to push your ass against him. With all his weight on top of you, it's hard to move, but your body craves him. “But now you're mad at me, Fairy. What can I do to make it better?” Rutting harder he sends white-hot pleasure through you. You've never been able to come from penetration alone, but the way your body feels makes you think that this might do the trick. “I want to come!” you almost sob.

“Yeah, I know Fairy. Don't forget that I can feel every little pulse of your cunt around me.” There is no comfort to be found in his tone. “Why are you being so mean?!” you cry. That makes him laugh into your neck. “Oh little Fairy. This is not me being mean. This is me wanting to give you the pleasure of your life.” He nips at your skin. “We could have been done a long while ago. You feel so good I could come any second. But I don't want that.” His hands squeeze yours. “I want you to always remember this. No matter what happens after, it'll be seared into your memories. Every time you're with someone else you'll wish it was me fucking you.”

The little show of possession makes your heart beat double and you're about to tell him you don't want to be with anyone else ever again, but that's crazy, so instead you respond with what you hope will get you what you need. “Then fuck me like you fucking mean it because right now your performance is mediocre at its best,” trying and failing to sound unaffected. This time his laugh is tinged with something cruel and you have a second to wonder what the hell you've let loose before he raises himself, pressing your joint hands into the bed to keep his weight on, and then starting to fuck you in earnest.

A sharp cry is forced from you by the brutal thrusts. The angle is much better and your body starts burning from the inside. Screams, moans, and pleas all tumble together from your lips.

Every time you think you might be close to coming he slows down, just enough to keep you from reaching any kind of high. That makes you livid and when you curse him out, he releases your hands, instead placing them between your shoulder blades, pressing you down hard into the mattress, before starting up again.

“I wish I had a vibrator to shove between your legs. Put it on the highest setting and force you to come over and over again. You'd be begging me to stop instead, trying to run away, crying. I bet you'd look real pretty sobbing.”

Your cunt clenches hard at the mental image he's presenting. You can't decide if that would be worse than this. Your body feels like a livewire, ready to release all the pent-up pleasure that has accumulated in your body. All it needs is the right touch at the right place.

One moment you’re on your front, and in the next, he’s flipped you over on your back again. You don’t even have the presence of mind to be surprised because he’s instantly inside you, your legs over his shoulders and his hands gripping your head, kissing you fiercely. It’s teeth and tongue and lips in a jumble. With his pelvis pressing against your clit it drives you fast towards the edge. “I need to see your face when you lose it on my cock,” he rests his forehead on yours. Despite his words, he slows down when it starts to climb inside you. You groan, almost in pain, the edging is making you feel crazy. Over and over again he refuses you the release you’re so desperately after.

A little too late you realize that maybe there is something you can do, instead of begging, that will get you what you want. “I wish you could come inside me,” you whisper, looking right into his eyes, clenching around him when you speak. When he groans you know you’ve hit the spot, but you press down the grin. “You want to fill me up with your cum, Bucky?” you ask before you give him a ruthless kiss. “Yeah fuck, Fairy!” He thrusts hard in response. “Better fuck me good then, and maybe I'll come back and let you do it.”

“Oh Fairy,” he growls and moves one hand to the headboard, gripping it, the other grasping the base of your skull. “You’ll come back. I'll have you outside my door, on your knees, begging for my cock.” The pace he sets has the bed creaking disconcertingly. “Maybe I'll even let you in, crawling on all fours.”

As his voice paints the picture of your submission, the climax mounts in you. Bucking up against him, you try to get more when he’s already giving you everything. All thoughts about teasing him are forgotten with the immediate pleasure. “Don't stop-don't stop-don't stop!” You chant. “Never, Fairy. Come on my dick. Let me see you.”

Your vision goes spotty when the orgasm hits, your throat screaming his name, body convulsing in a way you’ve never experienced before. Afterward, your body goes limp, twitching with aftershocks as Bucky seeks his own release. Maybe you can't have him come inside you, but you want something more. “Come on me,” you tell him in a hoarse voice. “Fuck! What?” He’s so beautiful above you with his hair hanging down in his face, sweat making his skin shine, the clear desperation and shock on his face. “Paint me with your cum, please Bucky,” you say once again. “God dammit, Fairy! Fuck!” He sits back and rips the condom off. A few swipes are all it takes and he's shooting ropes up your stomach and chest, blue eyes wide and staring as if he can't believe it, moaning your name loudly in his deep voice. It makes you grin like the Cheshire cat, knowing you can affect him just as much as he does you.

He sags down beside you, panting heavily. You never want to move but as the sweat and cum start to cool, your heart calms down, and you start feeling something else.

“Oh, I think I…” you mumble, looking down between your legs. “When I came I…” “You squirted?” Bucky chuckles at your unwillingness to say the word. “Yeah. That usually doesn't happen with sex.” “It did. You almost pushed my dick out when you came too.” He kisses your shoulder and up your neck. You turn your head to meet him in a soft kiss. “You also called me James,” he smiles against your lips.

You stare at him in horror as your mind catches up with what he’s saying and you realize you did in fact do that. “Oh god,” You wish you could sink through the bed and continue into the earth's core. “I don't know why I did that!” He kisses you again. “Don't worry, I liked it,” he reassures you.

After some more kissing, the various bodily fluids on your skin compel you to get up and head for the bathroom to clean yourself up. When you're done you study yourself for a moment in the mirror, thinking that you’ll see something different after you've just been fucked within an inch of your sanity, but you look just the same.

When you get back to the bedroom, Bucky has stripped the bed and is in the process of putting new sheets on. After you help him, you start looking for your clothes, thinking you'll take a cab home, but Bucky stops you by pulling you into a warm embrace. “You need to text your friends. I prefer my vest and my reputation untarnished.”

With a laugh you move to find your phone and when you do you notice you have a bunch of notifications. It's well past midnight.

It seems as if he doesn't want to be far away from you because as you’re writing a reply, he comes up behind you and hugs you close. Suddenly you have a better idea and stop what you’re doing, instead, you take a picture of the two of you, aiming it to just show your bare upper shoulders and your faces. The flash goes off in the dim room and when you see the picture you giggle. What you couldn't tell in the mirror, the picture clearly shows. Two fucked out people. You send it with just a short line about being alive.

When you're done you turn in Bucky's arms. “Satisfied?” “In more ways than one,” he smiles cheekily before kissing you. After a lazy make-out session standing naked in the middle of the room, you begin to pull away. “I need to-” “Stay,” Bucky finishes for you, tightening his arms. “Stay?” “Yeah, I'll make you breakfast tomorrow and then take you home.” “You don't have to,” you tell him. “Indulge me?” “Fine,” you sigh as if it’s a great burden. “I guess I could stay, but if you don't cuddle me, I'm leaving.” He pinches your ass in reprimand, making you jump. “You have no idea what you've signed up for, Fairy.”

True to his words Bucky hardly lets you out of bed, even in the morning when you need to use the bathroom. When you come back he holds up the cover and pats the mattress. As soon as you're beside him he pulls you in closer, putting his face in the crook of your neck and mouthing at your skin. A pleasurable sigh leaves you as you snuggle in closer to his warm body. Although the both of you were naked together the night before you never had time to explore his body, so now you let your hands roam everywhere they can reach.

Bucky lets his own hands travel over your skin, but those touches don’t stay innocent long and soon his erection is pressed into your stomach. Taking pity on him you spit in your palm and grab him, making him hiss at the contact before you lazily start pumping him. When he tries to reach between your legs you push his hand away. “No, let me take care of you,” you say sternly. “Whatever you say, Fairy,” he groans and thrusts into your palm.

There is no finesse to it all, just a quick morning hand job. He comes between your bodies, dirtying the sheets. When you see his eyelids starting to close again you poke him and they fly open. “You promised me breakfast!” “You just missed it,” he winks. In response, you roll your eyes before getting up. “Men!”

Instead of pulling on your jeans and the blouse drenched in glitter from the night before you snag the t-shirt he was wearing and find your discarded panties. The t-shirt barely covers your ass but at least you're semi-dressed as you go out into the kitchen to find something to eat.

Muttering under his breath about you being a stubborn woman he follows you in sweatpants and a fresh henly. Before you can find the coffee he hauls you up and puts you on the kitchen island, boxing you in with his arms on either side, lowering himself to glare at you. “Instead of opening every cupboard in the whole damn kitchen, tell me what you want and I'll make it.” “Coffee, with milk and sugar.” “And to eat?” “What do you usually make for the women you bring home?” you tease.

That makes him rise to his full height, looking down at you, and crossing his arms. “You think I have a habit of bringing women home and fucking them like I did you last night?” “You didn't get that good by theorizing,” you point out. “There hasn't been anyone, in a long time, Fairy,” his voice is suddenly soft as he cups your cheeks. You have another teasing comment on your lips but think better of it when you see his guarded look.

Instead, you put your arms around his waist and pull him in between your legs, resting your chin against his sternum to look up at him. “Then you make me whatever you want. But I don't like fish.” With a smile, he asks, “How about scones?” “Sounds perfect.”

When you’re done with breakfast he puts you on the table, insisting that he needs dessert and showing a much gentler side than the night before as he strums your body until you tell him you can't come anymore. Then he carries you to the couch and puts on a random channel. Together you watch reruns until you slide down his body to give him some of his own medicine. No matter how much he begs, you take your sweet time tasting him and when he comes it’s with a roar of your name. After some more cuddles and a nap, you convince him that you actually need to go home.

Just as you're about to head out there is a knock on the door and Bucky opens it to find Steve outside, holding his vest. Earlier he explained that Steve lives a few apartments down the hall. “I was told to give this to you.” Bucky takes it and inspects it quickly before hanging it up. To you, it seems untarnished.

“Hope Nat didn't give you too hard a time,” you smile. Assuming they'd stayed late at the bar and when she'd seen your text she'd given it to Steve. His eyes quickly flick away and there is a blush on his cheek. “No, no, it was fine.” You narrow your eyes and study him, noticing a small red bite mark on his neck. “Oh my god!” you exclaim and start laughing. Steve blushes even more. Bucky looks confused between the two of you. “What?” In a very loud whisper, you tell him, “I think Nat is at Steve's place.” Bucky's eyes glimmer with mirth and he looks at him. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Steve waves and heads back down the hall. Just as he pulls the door open you yell. “Tell her I said hi!”

Fortunately, Bucky also has a car, and as he drives you home, he keeps his hand on your thigh the entire time. Outside your apartment, he turns to you. “I want to see you again,” he says. “Okay.” You want that too. So much! “When?” “Tomorrow ideally but if that doesn't work, how about a date on Friday?” You could do tomorrow but you feel yourself already falling for him. Some distance would do you good, so you say, “Friday sounds great! Give me your phone.” You type in your number and save it under the fairy emoji before sending yourself a text. Then you save him under a motorcycle emoji.

Before you can get out he pulls you in for a long, deep kiss. “Now go before I kidnap you and keep you warm in my bed all week.” “Don't tempt me with a good time,” you wink and give him one last peck before getting out. In an act of pure self-preservation, you don't look back.

After a long shower, and checking your phone a million times throughout the evening to see if he’s texted, you come to the realization that you will never make it to Friday. You: [If I told you that I’ve changed my mind and want to see you tomorrow, would that make me seem desperate?] The response is quick. Bucky: {No more than I feel right now. I’ll pick you up after work. When do you get off?} Refusing to let an opportunity like that go to waste, you reply. [Preferably quicker than last night. I’m not sure I’m a fan of edging ;)] {Fairy, don’t make me spank you again. Off of work.} [I’ve told you not to tempt me with a good time ;) I get off at four]

[deadly-diminuendo]

Those Three Little Words

a short spawn astarion x fem!tav reader oneshot / nsfw / ~1k words

Summary: Every year you and Astarion return to the place where he began his life anew and every year you indulge in your love for each other.

(Or: a short and saccharine tribute to graveyard sex)

CW/Tags: piv sex, oral sex, pregnant Tav, graveyard sex, elf ear play, tooth-rotting sweetness, post-game

Read on AO3

Or read below...

I love you.

The words spill from his lips and then echo from yours, again, again, again. A refrain neither of you ever tire of repeating.

You love him. You love him. You love him.

And though your spoken affections always fade into a symphony of sighs, you know every caress, every kiss, every moment of bliss is another declaration of your devotion to one another.

The love between you is sweetness. Safety. Care, compassion, companionship. Shared laughter and shared tears. An anchor in the wild waves of a stormy night.

And it is passion, pleasure, paradise. Sensual secrets. Hours spent intertwined. Fire and flames and a thirst you can never quite quench.

But, oh, how you try.

Astarion lays you down beneath a midnight sky—a canvas dotted with sparkling stars and lit by a bewitching moon—and yet as you gaze above all you see is the adoration in his eyes.

He loves you. He loves you. He loves you.

The night he told you meant the world to you—and still you know it meant so much more to him. It was also reclamation, renewal, rebirth. That his first act of his second life was to indulge in his love for you made your heart sing.

It is here, at his grave, where he laid his past to rest and it is here where the two of you return year after year to celebrate freedom, celebrate love, celebrate life.

You bask in the nostalgia of it all, your body aching to replay and to reenact all the ways you connected and bonded and merged. The tenderness of memories past and the radiant hopes of the future and the precious now all come together here. You have so much to be grateful for—the ring on your finger and the babe in your belly among the latest and greatest testaments to your love.

A soft laugh falls from your lips as his knee slides under yours, spreading you open. A familiar gesture forever part of this yearly ritual. He grins back at you and you beam at this sense of levity you share; the comfort, the ease, the fun that comes from a true understanding and unconditional acceptance of each other.

He peppers little kisses everywhere, and you giggle. His lips linger on the swell of your stomach, and you sigh. He licks a thick stripe along your slit, and you moan.

You claw at the earth below, not concerned in the least about the dirt under your nails nor the mess he will make of you, your mind blank but for the bliss his tongue brings. He knows you would surrender to his deepest desires—at any time, really, but especially on a night as meaningful as this—and yet he chooses to put your pleasure first. You suppose it is as he once told you.

You were the answer to his prayers and so he will dedicate himself to your worship.

Astarion works you expertly, tongue dipping between your folds and flicking against your clit, an expression of his stunning fluency in your body language. Heat coils within your core until it snaps, his name a shrill cry you can no longer suppress as pleasure pulses through you.

He cannot help but to make a little joke about you waking the dead and you give him a playful swat. And though your limbs are still shaking, you think it time to turn the tables, time to tease him and tempt him until he is throbbing to be one with you.

You start with his ear, tracing a single finger from soft lobe to pointed tip, smiling at the way it flushes beneath your touch. He whimpers, and nods, and those gorgeous eyes fall closed, and you know you have him. He lets you play with him as you like, guiding him to sit back against the tombstone and immerse himself in you. You give his ear a lick. A nibble. A kiss.

Your lips trail down his neck and across his chest, admiring his lithe frame and lean muscle, and you want him, and you need him, and you love him, oh, so impossibly much.

You settle between his legs, and you wait for that final nod that grants you this gift, this chance to give to him what he gives to you so fervently. And when he offers his assent, hungry eyes heavy-lidded with lust, you take him into your eager mouth.

You stroke and you suck, swishing your tongue to work the underside, seeking out those sweet sounds that signal his satisfaction. You revel in the way he loses himself in pleasure, head lolled back, jaw open, groaning, moaning, trusting in you. 

To you he is a lover, a partner, a husband, a father to the little life growing inside you. He is everything. He deserves everything. And you will give him everything you have.

Though it comes as no surprise to you when he gives you a reluctant but gentle nudge, his need to bury himself within you stronger than his urge to spill down your throat—and so you roll onto your back as he clambers over you, his usual finesse lost in his feral desperation to fuck you.

He sinks into you. You wriggle and you writhe, making no more attempts to stifle your cries. In this moment the world is his and yours alone. Together you are whole. He plunges into you with animalistic abandon, as if his sole purpose is to stuff you full of seed, as if you aren’t already plump with his child.

I love you. Those three little words spoken from his lips are what makes you fall to pieces beneath him as he finds his release inside you. You tremble as you ride out every last second, savouring every sensation you share with the man you love more than anything.

You lie together, marvelling at how lucky you are to be by his side, to be part of his life as he learns to live again, to have built this life together, to have created a whole new life inside you, a miracle that makes you both smile.

And yet all you say is those same three little words.

I love you.

+++ Thank you for reading! A bit shorter than my usual work, but I wanted to get something out into the world as I continue to chip away on a few other wips!

My AO3 | My Masterlist

[elleluvsjurin]

School Rules

requested

synopsis: you’re the bitter ex who loves starting shit with the class president and vice president, one of them happening to be your ex gf. after a while, they put an end to your shit once and for all

pairings: ryujin x fem reader x yeji

cw: smut, reader is a mean girl, cursing, made ryujin kinda mean but she’s mean for a reason, reader gets slutted out; lmk if i missed anything

wc: 1.6k

tags: @her-utahimee

 It's been 3 months since Yeji has dumped you. Of course you were still pissed about the whole situation. Oh, and when you found that her and her best friend won for class president and vice president, it was going to be game over for those two…so you thought. At first, it was simple things like smoking cigarettes on school grounds. Then, it was crashing their planned events with your friends and now..the rumors. Of course you went and spread a rumor that they were sleeping together, it was the cherry on top of it all and EVERYONE was eating it up.

“yej.. get your fucking ex. I'm sick of her ass. Did you see what she posted online about us?” Ryujin frustratedly asks, slamming the classroom door. 

“Listen, i’m going to try and talk to her but her friends are doing stuff along with her-” Yeji starts

“-yeah, well y/n’s the fucking ring leader. And if you don’t get her shit straight then I WILL!” Ryujin interrupts Yeji in a fit of rage. Yeji massages her temples with her fingers because she knows that you won’t go down without a fight. She pulls her phone out and dials your number, of course you answer after a couple of rings.

“What could you possibly want Hwang Yeji?” you ask over the phone

“We need to talk, could you please come over after school?” she asks, quietly. You smirk over the phone before you reply.

“Talk about what?” you ask innocently and she mutes herself before putting you on speaker. “You caused this, Yeji, not me.” 

“God y/n, just come over.” Yeji spoke as Ryujin rolled her eyes in annoyance.

“‘Mmkay, only because it’s you. And tell that dog ass friend of yours not to come, she’s mean as fuck.” you add onto the convo. “You know where I live, I’ll see you later.” Yeji abruptly says before hanging up on you. 

“Ugh I hate that bitch.” Ryujin mutters whilst writing down a few plans for the student council.

“Don’t worry, she won’t be doing anything else after tonight.” Yeji adds and looks to Ryujin

“What are you thinking, Yej?” Ryujin asks, obviously confused.

“Could you put her in her place? I’m not good at that..as you can see.” Ryujin face contorts in confusion

“Why not? You dated her God awful ass for a year.” she asks 

“Damn Ryu, I was a bottom, alright. Read the room.” Yeji says embarrassingly and Ryujin laughs, knocking over the desk from how much she was laughing.

“Oh, makes sense.” Ryujin replied after her fit of laughter. “I’ll get her ass straight but you have to help out.” 

“Fine.” Yeji says quietly, packing her bags.

“Is y/n even here today, I haven’t seen her all day.” Ryujin asks Yeji, looking to her for an answer

“No, she’s posting things from her room.” Yeji replies 

“Hm. ok.” Ryujin mumbles. Both the girls walk out of the room and head to Yeji’s place, planning for an unforgettable night between the three girls.

You head over to Yeji's place near the school at around 4 pm. You anticipated staying for about 30 minutes but that changed as soon as she let you in. Upon walking in, you see Ryujin sitting on Yeji’s couch.

“What the hell is she doing here?” you question, your face twists in disgust and Ryujin smirks

“I should be asking you the same thing.” Ryujin replies. “I got invited, you fucking spawned here..uninvited.” you spit back at her.

“Enough, y/n!” Yeji shouts. “I’m so sick of your bullshit!” she continues to speak her mind and you sit down, as you’ve never heard her scream before.

“Yej, what the fuck are you talking about? I was just poking fun..chill.” you retaliate

“No. You’re screwing with our fucking campaign by being a bitch. You, your fucking friends, we’re sick of it. I’m sick of it.” Yeji finishes and you sit there, looking stunned.

“Fine, are you done now?” you ask, getting up to leave before Ryujin turns you around, pushing you up against the wall. “What the hell-” you start as she traps your body with both of her arms being on each side of your head, her hands pressing up against the wall beside you. “You think you can leave that easy, huh? We’re not done with your bitch ass just yet.” she whispers, sending chills down your spine.

“Y-yeji, help me.” you say, trying to push her away. Yeji looks at the way you struggle, not saying a word.

“You really think that she’s going to help your spoiled ass? Why do you think she invited you?” Ryujin asks as tears prick at your eyes

“Ryujin let me go!-” you try to shout out but Ryujin covers your mouth with her hand. Ryujin and Yeji both grab you, dragging you to Yeji’s room, locking the door behind them. Yeji pushes you onto the bed. 

“W-what are you going to do to me?” you cry out, your voice trembling. Ryujin comes over to you, wiping the tears off of your cheeks. “We’re not going to hurt you, if that’s what you think.” she whispers, kissing your cheek. “Such a pretty girl..terrible personality.” Ryujin continues, looking to Yeji. 

“Strip bitch.” Yeji says coldly, pulling out her phone to record you. “W-what?” you ask

“You heard me, I said strip. We’re teaching you a little lesson.” she replies. You start by taking off your shirt, then your pants, undergarments, eventually being naked in front of the two girls.

Ryujin leans forward next to you, pressing her lips up to yours. She tastes your salty tears as her hands travel up and down your body, exploring every crevice. Yeji watches the two of you interact, smirking behind the camera. 

“Are you ready Yej?” she asks and Yeji nods her head. Ryujin lays you down on the bed, forcing your legs open.

“P-please..” you mumble, Ryujin gets in between your legs, kissing your lips passionately before she gets off of you. “Shh, we’re not here to hurt you.” She says, taking the camera from Yeji. Before you can answer, Yeji shuts your mouth by kissing you. Her tongue hungrily explores the inside of your mouth, to the point where you can barely breathe. She pulls away, watching the way you try to catch your breath. Her hands rub up and down your slit, you’re embarrassingly wet.

“You’re pathetic..” Yeji starts, “..I love it.” she spits out, sticking one of her fingers into your pussy. She thrusts in and out, the two girls listen to the way your pussy takes your ex-girlfriend's finger, Yeji adds another one and you moan out. 

“A-ah! Please ..yej, more. Don’t stop!” you cry out, your juices leak all over her fingers as she thrusts her fingers in at a quick pace. Ryujin smiles behind the camera. “Fuck her good, Yej. I bet she’s close.” she says

Yeji curls her fingers inside of you, hitting every spot perfectly. “G-gonna cum!!” is all you say as your eyes roll to the back of your head, your whole body shakes as you orgasm all over her fingers. Yeji pulls her fingers out of your pussy, slowly sticking them in your mouth one by one. 

“Good girl.” she mumbles, watching you as you suck your own cum off of her long fingers. “Can I leave now, you got what you wanted.” you say

“Nope.” Ryujin simply says. “You can leave after you make me cum.” Yeji says

“What do you want me to do? I’m ready to go.” You say and Yeji pushes you back. 

“She’s gonna sit on your face.” Ryujin says flatly. Yeji lifts her skirt, pulling down her soaked panties from her ankles and hovers her cunt over your face. “Ready for me, hm y/n?” Yeji coos

“Let’s get this shit over with.” You say in annoyance. You grab her hips, sticking your tongue out so her cunt can fall right on your tongue. Yeji rocks her hips back and forth on your tongue, throwing her head back. “F-fuck I forgot how good her tongue game was Ryu.” she moans out. Ryujin turns the camera off and walks over to Yeji, grabbing her throat and kissing her lips. Ryujin grabs Yeji’s hips, moving her back and forth. “A-ah y/n..feels so good.” she moans as Ryujin continues to move her hips, between that and your tongue..has her going crazy. 

You hurriedly thrust your tongue in and out of her pussy at a fast pace. You feel Yeji touching all over your breasts while you tongue fuck her. You continue to thrust inside of her, you feel her legs tremble over your face before she shouts. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck..’m gonna cum!” she cries out as she cums all over tongue. Yeji gets off of you and dusts herself off. 

“You can leave now, Ryujin will let you out.” Yeji says, you scramble to throw your clothes on. 

“Pull some shit again y/n and I’ll release that pathetic video of you.” Yeji says

“Fine, I'll stop.” you say, throwing the rest of your clothes on and you follow Ryujin to the front door. You turn around to walk out and Ryujin grabs you, making you turn around to face her.

“What do you want, Ryujin?” you ask, she looks you up and down.“Stop patronizing our campaign. Do it again and I’ll beat your ass after I fuck the shit out of you, got it?” Ryujin says, sternly. “O-ok, I get it. I won’t do it again.” you say “Good. Now scram!” She says as you hurriedly leave. Yeji stands in the hallway, watching Ryujin close the door. Ryujin turns around to see her best friend and she smiles, jokingly saying, “Thought you were a bottom?”

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // epilogue

summary: a few years later...

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.7k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, depictions of mental illness, also she's is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n:

here it is :) the epilogue :)

(i'm crying, could you tell??) i figured it was time to post this now that we've officially entered the overlapping requiem/michigan cherry era. tbh i was just afraid to let these two go bc i love them so much.

thank you all again SO so much for all the love on this fic. it has truly meant everything to me that so many people came on this actual JOURNEY with me, i never intended this to be so long but here we are.

anyway, stick around for requiem!! and i hope you loved this if you made it this far!!

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist // pinterest board

You were all dressed up in one of your finest gowns, attending the gala that preceded the presidential election.

Coriolanus was running, of course, and you were so incredibly proud. He's worked toward this for years, and you had been there every step of the way since the tenth annual Hunger Games, all those years ago. It felt like a distant memory- albeit one that still haunted you regularly.

You were a whole new person. A Capitol citizen most of the year, and you were happy most of the time. You and Coryo had always gone home in the summers, though, to spend your days surrounded by friends and family under the District Twelve sun. You always looked forward to it, but three months never felt like quite enough time. You missed your old life, but that's all it could be now.

While some Capitol elite was talking your ear off about the upcoming games, that's all you can think about. Well, how after the election that your boyfriend would most certainly win, those summers of peace would be a thing of the past. It was hard to think about, which is why you focussed on how you could work around it. Perhaps you would make smaller visits throughout the year- although Coryo was prepping you for the endless tasks that would even be put onto you as the First Lady of Panem. Once he wins the election, he would propose- and it would be followed by the wedding of the century. You didn't know if you dreaded it or if the pressure of it all just scared you beyond what excitement could repair.

"Miss Y/L/N?" Your train of thought is abruptly interrupted and you hum in response, bringing the champagne glass to your lips, acting like you were paying attention the whole time.

"Yes?" You respond as you lower your glass. "My apologies, I just spaced out for a moment there. It's a big day, after all..." You chuckle to recover, tilting your head slightly at them.

"I was just asking if you had any input in the arena for the next Games, if you could give us any hints." The man asks, seemingly impatient with you getting distracted.

"Oh," You reply, smile fading softly. "No, I- I really try to stay out of all of that." You laugh nervously, gripping tighter onto the glass as you take another sip, relieved when you feel someone's hand on your arm.

"Y/N, come sit. Coriolanus's speech is about to start, he got me to save you a seat at my table." Sejanus says, linking his arm with yours.

You politely excuse yourself from the conversation and allow him to pull you away. "Many thanks." You whisper to him, chuckling slightly as you glance back over your shoulder at the older man you were speaking to. "Some people are so tone-deaf, aren't they?"

"Most definitely." He sighs, shaking his head as he guides you toward his table at the front of the banquet hall, close to the stage. "Apparently that will never change."

Sejanus Plinth was your saving grace all these years, that, however, had never changed. You didn't see him as much anymore, with you being locked up in your office in the Snow penthouse focused on writing book after book until you were burnt out. His role as a doctor in and out of the Districts certainly didn't help either, but you knew he was partial to working back home in Twelve so he could spend more time with Lucy Gray. You were glad he was much more fulfilled in his adult life than you were; you always knew he would do well and you were proud. You had to take moments every so often to remind yourself that when you first met him and Coryo, you had been sad that you wouldn't get to see the men they would become but you had wondered. Now, you had your answers.

"Is that not the truth." You scoff under your breath, smiling and giving a quick wave to a few familiar faces as you pass. You had become somewhat of a people-pleasing expert, the same way Coriolanus had.

You sit down at the table at the front of the room just as the lights slightly dim, and the spotlight hits the stage. You gently cross one leg over the other, careful not to wrinkle your dress and clap in just the perfect polite way you had learned how to over the years, smiling as you see Coryo walk up onto the stage.

He waves, and people whistle and clap, and the smile on his face seems a little more genuine than it normally is during these speeches. Of course, though, this is his final address before he no doubt gets voted in as president, and you know that he is excited.

"Hello, everyone. Thank you so much for coming out tonight..." He says, in a subtle cue to get people to quiet down so he could speak, a drink still in his hand that he delicately hovers above the podium next to him. "This has been such an incredible opportunity for both of us running, and I must say, it's been fun." He tips the glass toward the other table at the front, and your eyes follow the movement to the other candidate, your friend and former classmate, Hilarius Heavensbee. They've never gotten along, and you know Hilarius wants nothing to do with this job. Not really. It makes you sad, a little bit, that his family would push him this far when he had confided in you in his freshman year that it wasn't what he wanted.

The man just gives Coryo a polite but nervous smile, taking another sip out of his own champagne glass. From where you were, you could see his hand trembling. You knew he would have to go next, and Coriolanus Snow was always a tough act to follow.

"Now, I am very happy about this turnout, because I have two important announcements to make." He continues, and whispers fill the room. You look over at Sejanus, a slight look of shock on your face. You didn't know he had anything special to announce, and he always kept you in the loop on everything. Sejanus just shrugs, looking back up at Coryo again. It must not actually be a big deal- it was probably just thanking some more people who have donated to his campaign.

"Firstly," He clears his throat, taking a step to the side as the screen behind him lights up. "For just a moment, see me as your head game maker and forget all about me running for president. Or don't, actually, maybe keep that in mind, but at the back of your mind." He chuckles, the little joke making the audience laugh. He was much more personable now than he once was, you smile a little as you remember helping him write his earlier speeches in a way that would make him more likable. "With the help of my fellow candidate and personal good friend, we are trying something new when it comes to The Hunger Games."

When he speaks, your heart drops and you sit up a little straighter- feeling all eyes on you as you just focus on him. For the first time, he looks down at you and gives you a small smile, the slightest nod in an effort to reassure you that it wasn't as scary as it sounded. You swallow and just keep your smile on as best as you can, ignoring all the stares.

"So, we all love The Games. They're exciting, the stakes are high, and I know every year we all pick our favourite tributes to root for and it's hard to watch them fall but, god, do I know better than anyone how good it feels when they win." Your cheeks burn intensely as Coryo sends a smile and a wink your way, and the screen behind him flashes to a picture of the two of you, taken after your shared university graduation just a couple of years ago. You were both smiling, but he was looking at you as he held you tight around your waist, and you looked into the camera and held up a three-finger salute. People are laughing and awe-ing at the photo of the two of you, and you laugh nervously, looking over at Sejanus with slightly panicked eyes.

You would be absolutely fine with this if he had just run it by you before, and you knew that whether you liked it or not, the Games were an integral part of who you were now, and always would be- but you certainly didn't want your name on anything to do with these new changes they're making. But, he wouldn't be talking about you at all if he knew you would hate it. You had to remind yourself of that.

"So, you all know my beautiful Y/N, of course, we're all big fans of hers here," Coryo says, gesturing to where you were sitting and you let out a nervous laugh, shaking your head at him in a way that would appear teasing to everyone else while he waits for everyone to finish clapping for you. "Don't get embarrassed already, darling, I've got a bit more to say about you so just sit tight, okay? Nothing bad, I promise." He says to you, looking into your eyes even as he stands up on the stage, everyone's laughter echoing in the background.

"So, I have known Y/N and her outstanding mind for years now. The Games are what brought us together when we were both just kids, but you all already know that story so I'll spare you the details. The bottom line is, I am so proud of the woman she has become. She's written two books that will soon become three, she graduated in the top three percent of our class with only a District education to build on, and she is the single most well-spoken, well-mannered, beautiful, and caring woman I have ever met. Truly, she has changed my entire outlook on life." He says, talking more so to the audience than to you, knowing that you're so embarrassed by this. And he would be correct. "It has truly been a privilege to know her, and to love her."

"But that was a long journey for us both, and a seemingly endless uphill battle for her recovery, despite her strength. The Games can be scary, let's be totally honest. It's life or death, and winning will change you, but Y/N came out the other side and wanted to make a difference for her family and that inspired me. And she continues to inspire me every day." Coryo says, pausing to take a sip of his champagne again. "So, all of this is to say, I'd like to thank her for all her support through my education, this campaign, and through the life we're building together. She inspired this idea in me and with the help of my fellow game makers as well as the Plinth family..." You look over at Sejanus as he continues, suddenly realizing he must have known about what was happening. He keeps a small smile on his lips as he watches, refusing to make eye contact with you.

"This," Coryo says, turning to look up at the screen while a picture comes up of a small cul-de-sac of beautiful homes. "Is just the beginning of the Victor's Rehabilitation Initiative."

You tilt your head, a shocked and confused smile on your face as you take in the photo and try to decipher what he's talking about.

"So, recently, Y/N has been more open with everyone about the struggles that came with being crowned a victor in our Games. Yes, they get to walk away with their lives, but what if winning meant something more? What if it meant security for them and their families, so they're not returning to their Districts with no sense of what to do next? That, everyone, is what this program is for. To help the strongest of them find a purpose again, and to encourage the bravest of Panem's children to get back on their feet after such an impressive feat as winning the Games."

You have to very consciously force your jaw to stay shut when you realize what he is saying, clapping along with everyone else while your smile relaxes into something more genuine. You knew that he wanted to abolish the Games altogether, and you knew that no matter who won the election, they wouldn't proceed for much longer. This was the first step in that direction, and you were flooded with emotions. Pride, excitement, relief.

"For ten years, until the beginning of the mentorship program, our victors were cast aside. Never to be heard from again after their win, I, for one, became curious as to what happened to them after the Games as soon as I met Y/N, and I have heard that question from many of you as well since we were all given the pleasure of getting to know her." Coryo's smile is one of pride and excitement, sparing a glance at you as he allows the audience to have their responses. So far, all seemingly positive despite the present undertones of him caring about the people in the Districts. He was a smooth talker, he knew exactly how to command a space and get people to believe what he wanted. And he was using it for good. "I mean, how many other victors have something extraordinary, just like her, that won't be utilized or nurtured? We never knew."

"From now on," He continues, the crowd quieting down. "Our victors will be given homes in what we've decided to call Victor's Villages in each of the Twelve Districts. They'll have ensured security for themselves and their families, and a generous sum of prize money to help them with whatever they need. Whether that's medical attention, both physical and emotional, or, if they so choose, when they reach the appropriate age, they could apply at our university to further their education. Though, between you and I, admittance is not guaranteed." He winks at the end and it's accompanied by laughter, which you try and go along with, but you're too close to tears to even process fully what was going on. This was a huge step in the right direction, even if like he said, acceptance was not guaranteed. "What I mean, is that it will be up to them. They can live their lives to the fullest, just like our gem, Y/N."

He looks at you again, and you can really only see his blurry form through your tears until someone is handing you a handkerchief to dry your eyes while people clap and cheer over the idea.

This was something you couldn't have imagined years ago. This was everything you've wanted since the Games- to make a difference, for people to care. And it was happening right before your eyes. Thanks to him. Thanks to you.

"And with that," Coryo says after a few moments, waiting for the crowd to quiet down after taking in your reaction. "We can move on to my second announcement, which is my formal withdrawal from the presidential campaign."

Gasps fill the room and your smile disappears, a hand coming up to your mouth as you look up at him, shocked and confused with the announcement that blindsided even you.

"Are you happy here?" You ask quietly, not wanting to disturb the peace of the evening as you walk from your parent's house back to your own in the Victor's Village.

"I couldn't be happier." Coryo replies through a soft sigh, swinging your hand gently as it's clasped between you.

"Are you sure?" You say again, feeling a little uncertain despite weeks of his endless reassurance that this was, in fact, what he wanted.

To him, this scenario was perfect. He could keep his job as head gamemaker, planning to only return to the Capitol for a few months or so every year for the Games. He knew that wouldn't last much longer, though, not with Hilarius Heavensbee in office. Coryo gives it a few years and a few major "accidental" mistakes on his part for the viewership of the annual event to die out and open the door for the president to call them off, just like he had always wanted to.

And every day Coryo would wake up to see you in your happy place, the only place you'd ever felt truly at home. He was more than happy to give it all up for the greatest sake of seeing you smile.

"Of course." He smiles, never growing tired of telling you the same thing over and over again if it meant he could ease your mind.

The moonlight bounces off his in a way that makes you think it could be glowing if you didn't know any better.

"I told you that I would be. Years ago. You remember?"

"Of course I remember."

He lets out a breathy laugh at your reply, shaking his head. "That was a foolish question. I don't think you've ever forgotten a single word anyone has ever spoken to you."

"Sure I have." You say, tilting your head as you look up at him, trying to catch the same moonlight reflect in the blue of his eyes as you walk down the path. "I just don't forget... the important bits."

"I will try my best to take care of you while you're here."

"My honest, best advice? Figure out a way to escape."

"I can't have killed them all for nothing."

"You are not a beast."

"Please, don't walk away again."

"I survived because I had to learn to love you."

"Like in your books?" His voice interrupts the swirling of speech from years past, and you shrug.

"Not exactly... it feels different. Because I can hear it, still." You explain, voice dropping into something more quiet as the remnants of your fear eats away at the back of your mind, the cold night breeze imprinting your skin.

"God, the way your mind works, love." He says, and as you look up at him to be met with an expression of pride that always changes everything. "You amaze me every day."

You stay quiet, cheeks getting hot as you look back down at the path.

"Are you happy?" Coryo asks after a moment, eyes never daring to leave your profile as you walk next to him, hardly more than a silhouette in the dark. But certainly more than a ghost, now.

"I am." You reply, the smile creeping back onto your lips. "Such hours are beautiful to live, but hard to describe..."

He hums softly in response. That was a yes, but also a no in the most you fashion possible. His heart remains heavy in his chest knowing that there is nothing more he can do for you to help you heal besides be present. "Is there anything more I can do?" He asks anyway, hoping that maybe you would come up with something.

You shake your head, giving him a tight-lipped smile laced with reassurance.

"Well, then..." He sighs, rather dramatically. "I did have an idea, you know, something that might make you happy. Even just for this one beautiful hour."

You let out a laugh, squeezing his hand a bit. "If that was you asking me if we could-"

"I would like to marry you." He says, for the first time ever, not feeling guilty about interrupting you.

You stop in your tracks, and he stops with you instantly as if he were waiting for it, his hold on your hand not faltering for a second.

"I... you-"

"Darling," He starts, stepping in front of you now, blocking out the moon but hardly putting a dent in the presence of the stars over his shoulders, their soft light reflecting off his blonde curls. "I do love nothing in the world so well as you."

Your shock and confusion begins to wear off as he speaks the familiar words, and you laugh softly. "In your own words, Coryo."

He tilts his head at you, clearly not having expected that kind of response. He expected a lot of things. He planned for everything that could go wrong, he prepared for rejection, for tears, panic, even, but he did not expect that. "I, uh..." He chuckles nervously, giving his head a quick shake to get himself back on track.

He had read that play just for you. Just for this- because he knew how much you loved it, and he remembered the joy it brought you. The smile on your face when you told him about it that day at the lake had never left his mind.

"If you ask me in your own words, I shall say yes." You assure him, hands gripping tighter onto his despite your surprisingly calm demeanor.

"I thought you would like that... You know, knowing you..."

He's quick to defend himself, and your eyes almost sparkle as you look up into his own. "We should have learned by now that our story is our own, yes?" You ask. "We are not Beatrice and Benedick, or Laurie and Amy, or even Romeo and Juliet, just like I used to think we were supposed to be when my days were numbered. I thought I wanted one of those stories to be mine at least once before I died, but I was wrong." You say, taking in the embarrassed flush of his cheeks even in the dim lighting. "You are you, and I am me. No matter what you say I will be happy to marry you, so long as you ask me yourself, and not as someone else."

"Alright then." He gives you a curt nod, a smile on his face as he lowers himself in front of you, careless of the dirt that would no doubt cake into the knee of his pants. "You're everything to me, Y/N/N. My world... my heart, my soul. I didn't know what love was until I met you. I've spent the entirety of my adult life learning to love you, and I never intend to stop. Not even for a moment, so please, let me marry you, love."

"A Coryo indeed." You say softly, recalling the first day you had met him- when you only knew him as Coriolanus, and how far you both had come since then. The growing smile on your lips twitches and you nod, holding his hand a little tighter and attempting to pull Coryo back to his feet. "Of course I will. Nothing would make me happier."

He stands again and very quickly his arms are around you, holding you just as tight as they always had.

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl ,  @dreamyysouls , @rockstarbfs , @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie ,  @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore , @cascadingbliss

if you want to join the taglist for future fics (requiem, michigan cherry, etc.) as well as the bonus content for this fic, follow me over on @runningfrom2am-library and turn on post notifs! all i do over there is reblog my own writing, so it's effectively a taglist :)

thanks again for being here.

xx, raye

[saturnzskyzz]

𝐿𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑎 𝑀𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑.

Lee! Hyun-ju ler! Geum-ja

Summary: 𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘮𝘦, 𝘏𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘨-𝘫𝘶 𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥, 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘥 𝘨𝘢𝘮𝘦. 𝘎𝘦𝘶𝘮-𝘫𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘶𝘱.

Warning: angst, self doubt, dysphoria??, tickling, and yeh! That's about it! (Not really a warning, but I'm wanting y'all to know that I think the ship Geong-seok and Hyun-ju is a really cute ship, so this fic heavily implies that. Thank you for listening to this short talk🫡) another thing to know (no, we don't know Hyun-ju's family, and no, I'm not implicating that her family was nonsupportive of her transition. This is just a second family type bond!!)

A/N: I'd like to tag @letupabit because I let them see this idea before doing this fic, cause AAAHH Geum-ja heals my mommy issues, and the players deserves cheer up tickles. EAT THIS UP GANG!

| ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴍᴀʏ ᴏʀ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇ ᴀ ᴅᴇ���ᴅ ᴘᴏᴇᴛs sᴏᴄɪᴇᴛʏ ᴇᴀsᴛᴇʀ ᴇɢɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪs.. ɪᴛ's ɴᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇxᴀᴄᴛ ǫᴜᴏᴛᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪᴛ's sᴛɪʟʟ ᴀɴ ᴇᴀsᴛᴇʀ ᴇɢɢ ғᴏʀ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴏsᴇ ᴅᴘs ғᴀɴs!! :ᴅ |

(Happy late tickle day! :] I meant to post this on the 31st, but I made this kinda long in the making 😅

Squid game divider

Incredible losses had their unfortunate fate as the players had to play the cruel, agonizing game of Mingle. They were glad that they were finished, but the loss of many didn't cover their comfort for the rest of that evening. Including Hyun-ju.

She lost Young-mi to those sick fucks all because others had pushed her to the ground to get to a stupid door. Oh how she wanted to bash player 333's head into the wall closest to him at that very moment. But she resisted. Dammit, she resisted.

All the players walked out of the arena, and back into their resting area's, or large dormitory as others would assume. With Hyun-ju's adopted group at their designated hang-out spot, she quietly sat in her's, eyeing Young-mi's usual place. Young-mi.. What a kind soul she was?

Hyun-ju thought she couldn't take the burden of loosing her. She was brave. Really brave. Well, it was no lie that she was scared- they were both scared. But with Hyun-ju, standing next to Young-mi, she felt as if she could have Conquered anything when by her side. Now that she's gone..? She felt terrified. Oh Young-mi? What a person she could've been?

Geum-ja felt the sorrow in Hyun-ju's heart. She felt everyone's, actually. The loss of someone who you were destined to stick with till the very end was very familiar for her. That's how she felt with her son. So seeing Hyun-ju sit there in her own melancholy was devastating for Geum-ja. Oh this won't do.

She got up to sit next to the poor girl, and looked at her with gentle eyes, slowly placing a hand onto Hyun-ju's, causing the taller one to look at her with the most saddening of eyes. This broke the mother's heart.

"She was a kind young woman, hun." Geum-ja said soothingly, like a mother, Hyun-ju had quickly thought.

The young woman only nodded, looking back at Young-mi's spot. Growing sadder by the second.

Geum-ja felt so sorry for her. As a mother, she wanted to do everything in her power to just hold her in her palms and to protect her from anything cruel and inhumane if she could. But she knew she couldn't. No metaphor could save the broken souls in this place. Not even Geum-ja.

"How about.. I cheer you up, yeah?" Geum-ja said suddenly, catching Hyun-ju's attention. She now stared at the mother, contemplating the idea of possibly being cheered up be someone who she has only met for three days; but it felt like an eternity that they've been in this fucked up place with nothing but themselves to give comfort. If there is any of that now to help with their sanity of getting out of there.

"I do this a lot with Yong-sik, or eh.. My son! Aha.. You don't have to feel pressured by it, it's your choice dear." Geum-ja reassured the best that she could, hoping that she could help at all for poor Hyun-ju. Anything!

Pondering the idea a bit more, Hyun-ju finally answered in a low and tired tone, yet sweet and kind at the same time. "I.. Wouldn't mind the concept of how you could help. Thank you." With a small, reassuring smile, she turned to face Geum-ja to give her full attention.

Geum-ja smiled at that. Relieved that she could help, she repositioned herself, but not too fast as to possibly startle the woman. "If you ever get uncomfortable, please don't hesitate to stop me at any time, alright?" She said thoroughly to make sure that Hyun-ju has free will. She wants to make her as comfortable as possible after all.

Hyun-ju only nodded that time, kind of confused as to what the mother was talking about, but didn't protest nonetheless. She kind of wanted to know what she had up her sleeve to try and lift up her spirits. If that was even possible in a place like this?

"Could you turn around for me?" Geum-ja calmly said, never once wiping that reassuring smile off her face. Hyun-ju complied, now her back facing Geum-ja.

This grabbed Yong-sik's attention and immediately averted his gaze, knowing what was to come. It's been such a long time since he's received something like that, he almost forgot about the generous offer. Of course, he wasn't feeling jealous of the act, he knew he loved when his mom did that with him. It brought a sense of security and comfort, as well as a closer bond with his mother, so seeing her repeat the offer with someone else who is mourning the loss of their friend, he grew a smile on his face to see his mom always wanting to sooth others from their worries.

Once Geum-ja knew that Hyun-ju was comfortable enough in her spot-deciding to lean on the closest pole of one of the bed frames to her-that's when she got to work. Carefully, and lightly, she began to trace along her back in a repetitive motion.

Unsurprisingly, it was immediately effective. It soothed Hyun-ju almost instantly! the feeling was unexpected at first, but the repetitive back and forth helped her get used to it fairly quickly.

Geum-ja saw the girl in front of her lower her head in satisfaction. Hearing a comfortable sigh, she smiled to herself, thanking that the method was working at least a little bit in Hyun-ju's favor. The mother was still unsure if it was actually working for her or not with the jacket in the way. Oh, This won't do.

"D-do you mind taking off your jacket? I'm unsure if this is really working in your favor if you had the thick layer on." Geum-ja asked respectfully. Hyun-ju understood her question, and agreed to take the jacket off. In one swift motion, she took the jacket and placed it on her lap, allowing Geum-ja to continue her tracing on the now thin layer of the shirt that her and all the other players were put in.

"Thank you, dear." Geum-ja said sweetly, continuing her tracing from before.

The feeling was the same, yet it had a more effective feeling than before because of the jacket. Hyun-ju had noticed this quickly, but it was soothing to feel yet again. Laying against the pole again, she sighed comfortably.

"I just..? I want to thank you. You hardly know me, yet you want to comfort me.." Hyun-ju quietly said, just enough for her to hear.

Geum-ja smiled at that. "Well,, I'm a mother. Mother's attend to whoever is feeling down just to help them get back on their feet, dear." She answered, deciding to use the same up and down motion on her spine, revealing a sharp gasp from the younger. Geum-ja quickly retreated her hand.

"Oh my, are you alright? I'm so sorry, I should've asked if you had any injuries before hand-" she was briefly stopped with a patient hand, as Hyun-ju turned to face her.

"N-no, it's alright! I'm fine. You can continue if you want, I'm just.. A bit sensitive on my spine is all." Hyun-ju admitted kind of quietly. The light blush on her features seemed to make way due to her embarrassment. Geum-ja's worried face turned into a small smile at the discovery.

"Oh? Well, if you want me to continue! I appreciate the reassurance." she gave a few small pats on Hyun-ju's shoulder before continuing. She decided to trace her spine again, but carefully this time. She noticed instantly that hyun-ju was trying to keep her giggles from spurring out.

The woman had a small smile that she couldn't seem to hide away, resulting with her lowering her head down, closest to the pole she was leaning up against.

Geum-ja noticed that each time she'd trace up, her body would arch away from her fingertips, but when she traced down, she'd move back to her normal position just before she'll arch again, but would fight against the instinctive reaction each time. Geum-ja found that quite interesting.

Deciding to enlighten a few giggles out of her, she quickly analyzed where it would tickle most on her spine, and decided to trace her fingers on that spot more than the rest. Almost instantly, she made Hyun-ju melt into a puddle of her own giggles.

They were quick, quiet and breathy. A giggle that Geum-ja never thought she could muster out of her mouth, but they were endearing, and reassuring to hear.

She looked for any uncomfortable movement to cause her to stop her onslaught, but she didn't get anything like that. Hyun-ju just kept close to the pole as a way of leverage, and a sort of grounding, and kept releasing her beautiful sounding giggles.

"I take it that you like this?" Geum-ja broke the nonspeaking silence, causing Hyun-ju to blush a little out of embarrassment.

"Ihihi'm sohohorry.." She apologized quickly, thinking that maybe she's not deserving of such kindful acts.

"Oh this won't do. Hun, you can laugh your heart out! We kind of need to in a place like this to distract ourselves, right?" Geum-ja demonstrated her words by moving her hands closer to Hyun-ju's sides, making her jolt in surprise with a squeal, making her quickly cover her mouth to stop any further ones from coming out.

This caught the attention of Yong-sik and Geong-seok. Yong-sik already knew what was happening, so he turned his head away once again with a smile, and Geong-seok kind of just stared at them, or more so at Hyun-ju. He saw her crumbling into pieces just by Geum-ja's light touch, and it brought a blush of his own. How sweet she sounded, and carefree she was finally letting go? How she was trying, but also not really, to hide her smile? The way that he could just see a glimpse of her features? it adored him. She looked so beautiful. The smile that was creeping up on him was present.

"See? It's okay to laugh. I know you need it anyways, dear!" She said happily, enlightening more giggles to come out of the woman.

Although Hyun-ju was glad she could let loose and laugh, she also felt guilty for letting it out so soon.. Even after the mingle game..

She panicked a little by her thoughts, moving a bit as her mind mad her unsure of the situation. "Ihihi- geheheum- ohohor.. Ehehaha, wait!" the sudden slip up of her name caused her to panick even more, guilty flowing through her heart.

Geum-ja stopped her assault, worried for the young woman all so sudden. "What is it dear? Are you having second thought?"

Hyun-ju was a nervous wreck. She didn't know what to conclude in her head. So, she turned her body a bit to look at the mother with apologetic, and empathetic eyes. "Well.. I-i'm not so sure if laughing right now would be best since.. I mean? It's just.." Hyun-ju was finding it hard to spill out her thoughts. She knew that Geum-ja wouldn't judge, but she held back. She looked at her with worry. How overwhelming this place could be for someone, let alone overthinking things? She felt sorry for her in the most empathetic way.

"I believe that Young-mi would have wanted you to smile, and laugh.. There's too much sorrow in this place, and I'm sure it's driving all of us crazy. If we dristact ourselves from that, it'd be better to get through all of this, yeah?" Geum-ja reassured the best that she could, bringing a hand to softly lay on the woman's knee.

"I um.. I don't know..." Hyun-ju quietly said, looking down at where the mother's hand was laying. She wanted to break free from this dreadful feeling, but the guilt that layed right on top of her heart trapped her from doing so.

"I for one want you to cheer up!" Geum-ja said suddenly, squeezing her knee now. The surprised gasp and chuckle from her shocked the both of them.

"Yohou wouldn't dahare..." Hyun-ju said carefully through suppressed giggles. Geum-ja took that as a challenge.

"As a mother, I would!" Geum-ja said with glee. She started squeezing Hyun-ju's knee repetitively now, resulting in more clear chuckles from Hyun-ju.

"AH-ahaha, hohohold ohohon!" she gripped the offending hand while continuing to lean against the pole, trying to gain an upper hand in the situation, but ultimately failed because she didn't want to accidentally hurt Geum-ja in the process. Thus, resulting with her taking it.

"Yohou seem to be hoholding on just fihine!" Geum-ja couldn't help but giggle with her. Hyun-ju's laughter was just that contagious! And someone seems to be giggling to themselves as well. (Geong-seok, just SIT with them at this point)

The genuine bond seemed to lift up Hyun-ju's spirits a little bit. With all this laughing and releasing her stress and anxieties, she almost felt like she was right at home.

She wanted to move spots, deciding that maybe her sides would be less ticklish? how wrong she was once she darted straight for them.

Hyun-ju felt the ticklish sensation electrify her entire body as she jolted back, a higher squeal coming out of her mouth, causing the woman to blush even deeper as if her face wasn't flushed enough.

"AAH- AhahaAHAaha, O-OhohommahahaAHAaha- uh- Wahahait.." Realising quickly of what she just blurted out, she tried to stop Geum-ja's hands from tickling her further, but she was one step ahead of player-120.

Geum-ja looked at her in shock, retreating her hands after she had hesitated to pull them away in the first place. As she saw the horror on Hyun-ju's face, Geum-ja was quick to bring a reassuring smile, as well as reassuring words.

"Ohoh, dear! No need to make that worried face, it's alright!" She tried to reason, noticing the shock and worry never leaving Hyun-ju's face.

She began to spew out panicked apologies. "I-I'm so sorry.. I didn't mean to call you that,, it just came naturally.." she began to fidget with her hands as she always does when things got overwhelming.

Geum-ja, returning her soft touch back to her knee, never once left the smile that shown proudly on her face. "You can call me mom if you see me as one, you know?" She said, stroking her thumb on her knee now, making sure it didn't enlighten anymore panicked giggles this time.

Hyun-ju looked at her with a confused face this time. "I.. I don't understand.." Hyun-ju said empathetically.

Geum-ja looked at her with the softest of eyes a mother could give. " Well.. There's people in our lives who we look up to as if they were family.. They may act like how an authority figure would act, it's just how our minds see it!" she explained. She never once looked away from Hyun-ju.

"Yeah.. But it's only been a few days since we've known each other, and since.. Well.. The type of place we're in? It's confusing as hell to look up to others in this place.." Hyun-ju spoke with reason, as if she would then talk down on the poor woman who was just trying to sort out her thoughts of the situation.

"Wehell.. Like I said, I'm a mother. No matter how short, or how long you've known me, I'll always think of you as my own.. Cause in this place?" she looked around then, pausing her sentence, "there's gotta be at least someone you should look up to in dire situations like this one, dear." she finished with a smile, like always.

Hyun-ju didn't know what else to say at that point. She was holding back tears by the realization that she was finally recognized as someone who isn't just trans, but as someone's own child. No hesitation. No doubts. She felt accepted. She felt like herself.

All that thought, the woman finally let the tears flow gracefully down her cheeks, letting drops fly from the side of her jawline. When Geum-ja noticed this, she didn't hesitate to pull the woman into her arms, embrasing in what felt like to Hyun-ju, a motherly hug. She allowed herself to fully cry by now. Letting it out, but still holding back on wanting to scream her feelings out.

Geum-ja soothed her by rubbing her hand on her back, like a mother would. Swaying them back and forth a little, like a mother would. Giving hyun-ju the love and care, like a mother would. She gave it all.

"T-thank you.. For this." Hyun-ju finally said after a bit of silence, never once breaking the hug.

"Like I said dear, I'm a mother." Geum-ju said, still having the sweetest smile. She looked over to Yong-sik who finally watched the scene unfold, and she grew her smile at him, letting him know that he has her as well. This caused Yong-sik to smile with her. The cure of a mother's love is so much stronger than the endurance of trying to out live this place.

"She'd be proud, dear." Geum-ja said, softly. Continueing to sway back and forth with Hyun-ju.

[euphoricfilter]

For the drabble game could you write fluff with youtuber bf jk ? I am not creative so I couldn’t think of a sentence sorry😭 but maybe he does one of those 24hr streams, I love your writing!

youtuber boyfriend! kook headcanons:

tags/ warnings: none. just a lot of fluff and feelings <3

notes: when i got sent this idea ages ago i got so excited. and i wrote three fics for it but hated them all and then made sure they were to never see the light of day. so my solution is to write some cute boyfriend headcanons instead to make up for it!! simply because i absolutely love this idea and i need to write anything for it to sate the need within me.

notes 2: this got slightly longer than i’d intended LMAO sorry 🕺

𓇻 i feel like jungkook’s channel has a plethora of videos, though he specializes in gaming.

𓇻 its probably one of his biggest passions. though i do see him dabbling in commentary, or even review type videos. maybe he’s a bit of a collector as well and goes on hour long rants about rare items or hauls of what he purchased over the years.

𓇻 i see the both of you probably meeting at one of those second-hand game and film stores.

𓇻 maybe you’re just milling around. more content to browse the movies than the games because you only own an old console (something cute like a nintendo DS) but they don’t really sell the game cards commercially anymore

𓇻 and jungkook loses track of why he was even there in the first place when he spots you. slowly scooting towards the corner you’re in.

𓇻 jungkook might not exactly believe in love at first sight, finds it a little hard to imagine loving someone so soon. but he definitely believes in destiny, even fate. and some small part of his mind had convinced him that surely this was just that.

𓇻 he’d be a bit shy about trying to approach you, mouth opening only for nothing to come out because what was he supposed to say? and maybe he accidentally startles you, offering to pay for the few dvds you had hugged to your chest as a lame sort of compensation

𓇻 he’d be the one to ask for your number, he’d be the first to text. you’d tell him later on it’s because you didn’t want to come off too head-strong. worried you’d scare him off messaging only hours after meeting. and then he’d tell you he had worried about the same thing

𓇻 jungkook wouldn’t straight out tell his audience he’d gotten into a relationship. it’s not that he was embarrassed about you, quite the opposite; he’d love to flaunt you to the world. it’s just he’d worry about the reaction from fans.

𓇻 he’d have a pretty hefty audience, a well established one even. and he wasn’t blind to the mean comments that would occasionally show up beneath videos or social media posts. he, himself, never found much issue in dealing with them, on occasion he’d get a little down but he knew that really he put himself up for this. he chose to show his face online, and with that would come some backlash. however, that didn’t mean he wasn’t worried about you or how shitty comments would effect your well being.

𓇻 definitely the “in a relationship but it’s private” sort of photos would slowly creep their way onto his IG posts. maybe of little date nights— candles on the table with a dinner you’d cooked together (2 glasses, 2 plates and 2 sets of cutlery), or your favorite cake he’d tried to bake himself with the lego flowers he’d spent the previous evening trying to make (because at least you could look at the lego ones forever and they wouldn’t die). or maybe even your hand snuck in a photo or simply your silhouette beneath a sunset.

𓇻 maybe a few of your own collectible items had made their way onto the shelf in his studio. an obvious beanbag in the corner (you’d often sit there and read as he went through emails or scripted videos). valentines cards that he’d never thought to take down, or posters of yours that never exactly fit in the bedroom

𓇻 it would become apparent that he was in a long-term relationship when he’d film a moving video. so much of your stuff mingled with his own, split seconds of the shared rooms he’d add to the video before showing his audience his new office space. the extra shoes and cute little additions to his home; soft cushions on the couch, ceramics you’d begged him to buy. your hoard of plushies that took up half the bed or the stupid amount of skin care products stacked up in the bathroom. all a sure way of telling his fans that he was serious about you, even if they had no idea of your name or face

𓇻 maybe with enough comments he’d make a little announcement at the end of a video.

𓇻 “i know you’ve all probably guessed by now, but i am in fact, in a relationship”

𓇻 and then proceeded to talk about you for 7 minutes because really he wanted everyone to know how much he loved you. and truthfully he never knew when to shut up when it came to you, not when you were what’s on his mind most of the time. he’d tell them how you’d met, and how he had been absolutely enamored by you almost instantly. he’d show everyone the matching bracelets you’d made. grinning as he showed off the receipt he’d kept in his wallet from your first date together at a small cafe in town, mentioning how he kept a baby photo of you in the back of his phone too.

𓇻 the first time you’d show up in a video, he’d plan for the both of you to do some crafts together one afternoon. a hobby you’d been trying over the last couple of weeks, and jungkook liked to indulge you. loved to watch you sprawled across the floor of an evening with glue coating your fingers and way too much glitter imbedded in the carpet.

𓇻 he’d have been worried at first. asking you over and over if it was truly okay for you to be on camera, and after your reassured him with a kiss, he’d settle down slightly. though his anxiety had still clung to him, eyes flitting your way throughout the afternoon

𓇻 he could tell how shy you’d been, and had reassured you that really you didn’t even need to address the audience. he’d do all the silly little things you giggled at him for. and all you had to do was sit there and be pretty for him. you’d been a lot quieter than usual; itching to give him a kiss each time he was just so awfully jungkook. eyes like those of galaxies when he got something right, or the happiest smile on his face when you asked him for help

𓇻 the day he did a 24 hour charity stream would be when his audience sees you the most. milling around the house, making sure your boyfriend was fed and watered. maybe even sitting down and reading the chat when he wanted to shower. or answering questions while perched on his lap. he’d want to smother you with even more love when you’d catch his eye— a silent question if you were doing okay, that you answered all the questions correct. and he’d squeeze your thigh in reassurance, head resting over your shoulder as he listened to your voice, humming to let you know he was still listening

𓇻 you’d startle him at 4am, a little pouty that you’d had to fall asleep alone. dragging a chair from the kitchen to sit on as you watch him play a game you’d never seen before.

𓇻 “go back to bed, baby” he’d coo, “you’ll fall asleep sitting up and get a bad back”

𓇻 and maybe after that he’s a lot more open to showing you on camera. filming you on beaches, eating cakes and ice creams from a million different restaurants or dancing around hotel rooms or sitting on the balcony with the sun warming your skin when he takes you on holiday. short films dedicated to you with your favorite songs playing in the background

𓇻 maybe he even makes a playlist on his youtube channel, titled “my love” for every video that he includes you in

𓇻 idk just very much in love boyfriend kook who wants the world to love you almost as much as he does (because in all honesty, no one would ever love you more than he does)

[blessedbucky]

we tried the world, good god, it wasn't for us! (part 4.1)

pairing: autistic!satoru x suguru x autistic!reader

word count: 15.5k (IT JUST KEEPS GETTING LONGER WHY)

summary: that second year of high school has a clear division within your mind—before summer and after. this is the before.

tags: autistic!reader, autistic!satoru, bisexual!reader, bisexual!suguru, awkward teenage sexual awakenings, denying that you're thirsting on your bffs and you're plunging in DENIAL river at the thought of CRUSHING on your bffs, masturbation, wet dreams (ish?), the existential crisis of realizing a bunch of old dudes poorly control the future of your teenage life, and good ole fashioned meltdowns

beautiful people who asked to be tagged 💕: @ichikanu, @iceheartsice, @anders-is-being-a-simp-again, @honeydew-cheesecake

author note: (ಠ_ಠ) no seriously dude stories really do have a mind of their own because HERE WE ARE. 15.5 THOUSAND WORDS. and that was BEFORE hidden inventory. i've still got so many brain worms for post-hidden inventory that i said "my god the tumblr post will be so fucking long let me just cut this in half and give the besties an update while i'm at it"

chapter links: ONE, TWO, THREE, AO3

[YEAR TWO.]

[PART I]

You know that they’re there. You’re not sure exactly where, but you can feel their eyes on you—sharp and predatory. You know that you may not be the best sorcerer around, but you think that this is a mission only you can do. You can’t let yourself waver here! There are people who depend on you now!

“We truly appreciate this, Senpai.”

They’re close, you can feel it. You’ll have to make your final stand here. Maybe you can trick them, so they don’t come at you with their all. Yes, you’ll talk and make it look like you’ve let your guard down.

You slow to a stop and turn around to face the two boys behind you with a smile. Haibara Yu and Nanami Kento—the only two to be enrolled this year. Both of them come from non-sorcerer families, so like you and Suguru last year, they’re here a week early to have a crash course on the jujutsu world. Hmm, now that you think about it, that could be why you’re so protective of them. You remember how overwhelmed you were by all that information thrown at you.

Nanami was dead serious with his thanks, as he is in general. Paired with Haibara, who is open and warm, you hope that his sharp edges will soften. Just as you hope that Nanami will teach Haibara to learn how to focus. He’s very laidback. You’re not sure that he realizes how dangerous sorcery can be.

“I hope this doesn’t offend you,” Haibara starts nervously, “but isn’t this…excessive?”

Oh, poor, sweet, naïve Haibara. There are still stars in his eyes. It blinds him to the truth that you have to do this because no one else can. Only you can stand up to those saccharine smiles and escort your precious juniors to class. Without you, either they’d be kidnapped or Nanami would break and be expelled because he hasn’t built up an immunity yet.

Out of the corner of your eye, shadows move.

However, you were prepared for this!

You’ve learned from experience, so you know that one will try to sneak up behind you and snatch you up. With a mighty cry, you brandish the bottle that you had hidden in the front pocket of your uniform. Giving your back to your juniors, you spray Suguru right in the face with water.

“Gah!”

You spin on your heel and push between Nanami and Haibara to reach Satoru who stands behind them with a sadistic grin. His hands were going for their collars, but he’s lost when you spray him in the face, too. It doesn’t matter that the water is stalled by Infinity. They’ve lost the game today.

“No!” You hold the spray bottle up threateningly. Satoru accepts his defeat by dropping down to sit on the ground and cross his arms over his chest. “Let them get to class! There’s not gonna be any weird hazing rituals on my watch!”

“When did you become a member of the Disciplinary Committee?” Suguru teases while he slides in beside you to lean an elbow on your shoulder. You brandish the bottle, but he takes a step back with his hands raised in defeat. “You win this round, Squid. I won’t bother you or your ducklings for the rest of the day.”

Did you hear Nanami breathe a sigh of relief? You’re not sure. But you definitely hear Haibara squawk loudly. You look over your shoulder, watching as Nanami takes the chance to escape and books it away from the scene, practically dragging his classmate along with him. You can’t say that you blame Nanami. You know other people tend to think that Satoru is a lot to deal with and now that he and Suguru are so close…at times, they’re downright unbearable.

With an irritated sigh, you ask them, “Can you stop with the duckling thing?”

“Why? Worried you’ll get another nickname, Mama Duck?” Satoru taunts.

You won’t tell him that he’s right.

“The real question,” Suguru interrupts as he gently tugs at the strap of your backpack, “is where are you going?”

“A date,” you answer bluntly.

“What?!” Satoru yelps.

Suguru quickly follows up with, “With who?!”

“Talk about Mama Duck,” you mutter.

“Papa!” Satoru whines. Because he’s still on the ground, he starts tugging at Suguru’s pants—more like a child than the mother he pretends to be. “Sketch is in her rebellious phase!”

“You’re not reading any of my Ouran manga anymore.” In preparation for the anime adaptation that’s about to premiere, you’ve been burning through the manga. And Satoru once declared that he wanted to read what you did because he wants to know what kind of things you like, so he’s been reading it along with you. “I’m meeting up with Shoko. We’re getting our nails done and grabbing food.”

“Boo.” Satoru leans back on his hands with a huff. “Suguru, let’s go on our own date to make them jealous!”

“You guys are extra childish today.” You put a hand on your hip. “If I stop at the konbini on my way back, will you cut it out with the temper tantrums?”

“Rude.” You wait. Suguru and you stare at each other. He’s the one to crack first. “Some unadon, please.”

“Parfait!” Satoru chirps.

“Actual food, Satoru,” you and Suguru intone at the exact same time.

“Ugh. Fine. A katsu sandwich and the parfait.”

“Good boy.” Satoru has an interesting reaction to your praise. His face turns bright red, probably out of chagrin. He jerks away from your hand that’s reaching out to ruffle his hair and yanks his legs up against his chest. You hold your hands up like Suguru had done not long ago. “Sorry,” you quickly apologize. “I should’ve asked before I tried to touch.”

“It’s not that!” Satoru snaps his head to the side, looking away, scowling at nothing. “You know that you and Suguru are allowed to touch me whenever! But don’t talk to me like I’m a dog! Jeez!”

You cock your head to the side. “Is that how it came off? I was being genuine. You usually put up more of a fuss when we try to get you to eat regular food.”

“Squid.” You turn to look up at Suguru. There’s this weird smile on his face as he watches Satoru. Forced, maybe? But then he turns his attention back to you. “What time are you meeting Shoko? Shouldn’t you get going? I don’t want you to freak out over being late because we held you up.”

Your eye twitches. “But you’ll hold up our juniors from going to class?”

The tension in his smile melts away for something coyer. “We want to welcome them. Get to know them better since they’re in the dorms with us now. Isn’t that the responsible thing to do as their upperclassmen?”

“I can’t believe you preached to them about how important our roles are, but you want to interrupt their studies.”

“It’s nothing official,” he tries to dismiss. “Sensei won’t throw them to the wolves on their first day. They could catch up once the term starts.” He raises a brow. “I can’t believe you preached to them about having fun when they can, but you want to keep them tucked away under your wing,” he throws back at you tauntingly.

You roll your eyes. “Go jerk each other off or something and leave the rest of us out of it.”

They’re both still sputtering when you walk away with a smug smirk.

Oh.

No wonder Satoru and Suguru had been so upset about the idea of you on a date. You’d completely forgotten that it’s cherry blossom season. There are definitely no open benches. Thankfully, you’re prepared! You brought a blanket in case the benches were still wet from the morning dew. You’re happy that you’re still early despite Satoru and Suguru’s distraction because you have time to hunt down a spot that’s as far away as it can be from other people on the open lawn.

You spot Shoko before she sees you. You stand up and wave a hand in the air to catch her attention. Around the stick in her mouth, she’s grinning as she approaches. Then, because you’re weirdly attracted to having assholes for friends, she asks loud enough for other people to hear, “Are we on an actual date, pretty girl?”

And, normally, you’d be embarrassed by that. Right now, though, when she’s close enough, you’re smacked in the face with the bitter smell of smoke. The end of what you thought was a candy stick is bright orange. “Shoko!” You flap a hand nervously in her direction, motioning toward that thing in her mouth. “You leave us for a month and you’re smoking now?!”

“Aw, man. I’d hoped getting you all flustered would’ve helped you ignore that.” She laughs easily. “Here.” She plops the plastic bag in hand on the blanket. “I wanted to drop this off before I go put out this cigarette. I don’t want us getting kicked out for me not being in the designated smoking area.” She waves a hand. “Be right back.”

You’re still in a tizzy when she gets back. “This is bribery,” you accuse when she’s close enough. When she’d proposed this, you suggested the both of you buying your own meals, but she insisted on paying. Now, you know why, and you also know why she got a bunch of your favorite foods and drinks. “I can’t believe you,” you continue to complain. “You’re going to be a doctor. You have surgeons as parents. What do they think about this?”

“They’re smokers, too.”

You huff in disbelief. “That seems…irresponsible.”

“They do have a kid that could heal any complications that come from it. That’s why I do it. I get the chemical rush and none of the damage. Seems like a win-win to me.” She plops down on the blanket next to you. “You’re not helping the Mama Duck allegations, y’know.”

Ugh. Having more than one friend sucks sometimes. If only they could move those online chatrooms to cell phones. You could scold them all at once about this weird obsession they have with giving you embarrassing nicknames. “It’s not bad to care about people!”

“You’re too sweet for jerks like us, pretty girl,” Shoko says with a laugh as she holds out okonomiyaki as an offering.

You eye the plastic container before you snatch it from her hands. “No octopus, right?”

“Vegetarian,” she replies. You smile brightly and flip the container open. Between the both of you chowing down, she asks, “Did you work on your technique over the break? Gotten anywhere else with it?”

“Ugh, yeah, and it’s gotten me in a weird place.” She raises a brow at your answer. You absentmindedly chew on the end of your straw. “I still can’t control them. It’s like I’m giving them a suggestion and the weaker they are, the more likely they are to listen to what I have to say.” You frown. “I was on an assignment with Suguru and another sorcerer last week, y’know. They used a shikigami.” You fidget nervously. “I pacified the shikigami and Suguru’s cursed spirit.”

Shoko nearly drops her drink from the shock. “Seriously?”

You nod. “We don’t know what to make of it. I could maybe understand Suguru since the cursed spirits are technically their own separate thing. It’s like an extreme master-servant deal. But with a shikigami…that’s just a physical form of a sorcerer’s cursed energy.”

“How easy was it?”

“Not at all. I passed out,” you admit sheepishly. “I thought I was pacifying the cursed spirit we were after, but…uh…I guess the other two were caught in the range. The shikigami was a lot easier, actually. It might have to do with the amount of cursed energy. When this was all happening, it felt like an uphill battle. Suguru has more cursed energy than me and it’s like I’m muting his connection, so I guess I’d need to overcome his. If he wasn’t so tired, I don’t think I would’ve won.”

She hums thoughtfully. “Maybe it all boils down to cursed energy.” You tilt your head in question. “Like…you’re suppressing cursed energy itself. Not only cursed spirits. What are cursed spirits if not a massive amount of negative cursed energy? If you look at it with that perspective, it only makes sense that you can pacify shikigami.”

“I want to say that it feels like you’re reaching, but…” Well. That’s the only logical outcome when you add up the pieces. It’s started now because you’re getting stronger, refining control over your own cursed energy. “I don’t like this,” you whisper when you start thinking too much. “Wouldn’t the next step be pacifying the sorcerer? I…I don’t want to control people.” You shake your head furiously. “No. I could never be that strong.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself there, pretty girl. If it boils down to a cursed energy match, you have a lot.” You try to wave the comment off. Sensei has mentioned something along those lines, too. “I’m serious. You can’t compare yourself to Gojo and Geto since they’re freaks of nature. You’ve got such an insane amount that you’re getting close to freak yourself. If you had a more threatening ability, you might be considered Special Grade.”

“Can we not talk about me anymore, please?”

“Alright, alright. Let me tell you about the fun I had over the break. They gave me access to the morgue.”

***

You’re…distracted…

It’s hard not to stare.

It was only a moment, but you still watch him intently. You’re reminded of those pictures that are drawn in such a way that you can see multiple interpretations and when someone points out their own perspective, you can never not see it anymore. This is like that. It doesn’t matter if you demand that he tuck his shirt in like some scandalized lady of the house from the Heian period because it’s burned in your brain now.

Such a small, simple thing. A flutter of his shirt when he leaped in the air to shoot the basketball, and you saw beneath the figurative curtain. And somewhere in the back of your brain, you knew that a simple belt wouldn’t be enough to hold up Suguru’s heavy, baggy pants, but it never clicked. Not until now. Not until you saw a flash of the high waist of his pants.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

Why does it feel like your brain would be playing the old internet dial-up sound on a loop if someone could read your mind right now?

It was a waist! You didn’t even see skin! If you’re going to drool over something, it should be his arms. With his sleeves rolled up like that, you can see the few veins that run along his upper arms. With him holding a basketball like that, the size of his hands become more apparent. Suguru…really took that punch at last year’s Goodwill Event personally and he’s started to work out a lot more. You can tell. Not that he wasn’t fit before with all the farm work he did in the village, but…

Holy shit, what are you going to do in summer? You think you heard Satoru mention that they had more people to play basketball with now, so they could do teams, and…and don’t guys do the whole shirts versus skins thing? They wouldn’t with only two to a team, would they? What are you going to do? Suguru is more massive than ever now. More muscled than ever.

Is the heat still on? You’re so hot right now. And more than that…

“Yo! Sketch! Hey, look out—”

Something heavy thumps against the top of your head. You clutch at your head, watching the basketball bounce away, more flustered than hurt that you were…were…in a daze. Because you saw your best friend’s waist. When did Suguru get curves? Oh, no. Does this make you a pervert? You might be a pervert!

“Squid?”

The stupidly curvaceous man of the hour squats down in front of you. Hair has fallen out of his tight bun, bangs now framing both sides of his face. You duck your head, desperately trying to avoid eye contact with him. You watch his fingers twitch, but he puts his hands firmly on his big thighs.

“You lookin’ to get a new nickname, Sketch?” Satoru calls out as he approaches you and Suguru. “You’ll get one if you don’t stop being such a space cadet.”

Suguru rolls his eyes. “You’re so caring, Satoru. Really, you’re dripping with compassion.” He shakes his head before moving his attention back to you, expression softening. “Are you okay? Is it a bad day?”

“Is it a crime to daydream?” You scramble for something to explain your behavior. “I don’t know. I…I was trying to remember what that cursed spirit looked like.” You shake your sketchbook. His brows furrow in confusion when he looks at it because it’s almost done. You panic. “Uh…like…did it have fur or not? I can’t remember!”

“It was scales…” Suguru informs you slowly. “Are you okay? Really? Not feeling sick or anything? You don’t usually forget big things like that when it comes to cursed spirits.”

The gym door slams open, the sound echoing, and making you yelp.

Sensei shouts all your names as if you’re in trouble…which, to be fair, you probably are since you were supposed to be spending this time studying in the library. Technically, you could spin the sketch as work since you are supposed to record curses that you encounter, but you don’t even want to defend yourself. You’ve never been more thankful to be in trouble in your life. Sensei has learned that the best punishment is to separate you all from each other. You need some room to breathe.

“Since you have so much energy to burn,” Sensei starts heatedly, “you can come help with the first years.”

“Ugh,” Satoru and Suguru groan in unison.

You smartly slide off to the side to make way for Sensei. He rushes forward to knock them both over the head as a reprimand for the rude response. The hit makes them drop to their knees and they accept that they’re in for a lecture. Sensei doesn’t demand the same gesture from you because he knows that you’ll stay where you are. You do tune him out partway through, though. This is definitely a lecture more targeted toward Satoru and Suguru because you’re more than happy to help with whatever the first years need.

When Sensei calls out your name, you snap back to attention. “You’ll spar with Satoru today,” he declares. It’s hard to retain your politeness. Turns out that you’re not exactly escaping, after all. It could be worse. He could make you run the track again which you hate because you don’t have anyone to keep you company, so you get bored just running in circles.

Then, you process his words fully. “Satoru?”

“Suguru is going to work with Nanami and Haibara today,” Sensei explains. “Satoru still needs a lot of work on his hand-to-hand combat.” Suguru snickers quietly while Satoru sputters at the, frankly, correct assessment. “You’re next best after Suguru. He’ll benefit from sparring with you. It might also help him with having some restraint.”

“What the hell, old man?!” Satoru shouts. “Suguru, shut up!” Clearly, Satoru isn’t that preoccupied with getting an answer. He just stomps out of the gym with a red face while Suguru quickly follows after him to pile on the teasing.

Both you and Sensei sigh when they’re out of sight—for different reasons, of course. Sensei goes on to scrub a hand across his face. You don’t doubt that he’s questioning his life choices right now. Kusakabe, when he visits Sensei and you escort him to where your teacher is, has told you that Sensei complains about how Satoru and Suguru are some of the most promising yet most frustrating students that he’s ever had.

“Sorry, Sensei.” You feel the need to apologize on their behalf. Sensei shoots you an irritable look now. One of your biggest lectures is to stop doting on Satoru and Suguru. “Sorry,” you mumble again with a wince. He stares at you a few seconds more before he heads out of the gym. You quickly follow after and step in line beside him. “Um…you said that we needed to get used to helping Nanami and Haibara more. Something about escorting them on missions?” That had caught your attention during the lecture. “When does that start?”

“I’m not sure,” Sensei answers honestly. “It depends on how today goes. Haibara’s family owns a dojo. Nanami has taken kendo classes since he was a child. I want to see how well they incorporate cursed energy into their techniques.”

Your brows furrow. “It’s been a month…” He hums in agreement. “We were going on our first assignments within a month.”

“Your class is a special case. You’re all extremely talented. Satoru and Suguru are in the process of being assigned Special Grade status. I’ve also been speaking with Kusakabe about putting your name forward for Grade 1 in the future.” Your eyes widen and your head snaps up to stare at him in shock. “Though, I’m not sure that you need the recommendation. Those at headquarters are very interested in your abilities. They’ll be speaking with you soon.”

“I…I don’t understand.” Your mind is spinning right now. “Why? What more can I tell them?”

Sensei stops and turns to stare at you like you’ve grown another head. “You discovered that the Red Room Curse exists as an extension of a cursed spirit’s technique. You used the break to research, something you didn’t have to do. If it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t have known that it had created a cursed tool in the Taisho period. It was found yesterday, if you were curious. It’s been sealed away.”

You frown. “Doesn’t that just mean they should do more research themselves?”

“They should,” he agrees. But they won’t and now you’re here, he doesn’t say. You can do it for them. “Like any high schooler, you should start thinking about what you want to do after graduation. You and Shoko have more options open to you than the rest of your peers. As your name spreads at headquarters, it trickles down to the clans, so they may offer you positions, too.”

And you can’t help but blurt, “Couldn’t you have sprung this on me after sparring?”

Sensei chuckles softly. “It wasn’t meant to cause you stress. What you do or don’t do with your technique is up to you. This was to help you see your worth, more than anything.”

You blink at his honesty. “Y’know…you’re actually a good guy, Sensei.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” he grouses.

“Ah, but it was?”

Sensei sighs. “I know.”

“This is stupid,” Satoru complains as the two of you stand off to the side and watch Nanami and Haibara throw themselves at Suguru. They try to clumsily infuse their moves with cursed energy which Suguru is quick to point out and guide them on how to better let their cursed energy flow. “Why not let the guy with a shield handle this?”

“The inconsistent shield?”

Ah, maybe that was a little too mean. Satoru is in a weird place. The last few months, he’s felt like he’s started to slide backward in terms of progress. He still can’t fire off his technique, Red, consistently. Whenever he does try, it leaves him exhausted. Not to mention that, suddenly, his Infinity has started to lower at the most random of times. Satoru has no reason why. Thankfully, it’s not a lot. Sensei and Shoko were honestly shocked because it’s never dropped around them. It’s only you and Suguru that have seen Infinity act up and Satoru wants to keep it that way.

Satoru doesn’t dwell on your words. “Not you too, Sketch! What’s with everyone bashing me today, huh?”

“Anyway.” You roll your eyes. “Getting hit is the point here. Suguru can feel their output better that way and correct them. And it’s not enough for them to hurt him.”

“I’m good at controlling and channeling my cursed energy, too!”

“Yeah, but you can’t explain it well.” Before he can loudly whine again, you interrupt. “For you, it’s so easy that you don’t think about it. It would be like explaining how to breathe.” You pause. “Also, you’re way too rude. You need to be delicate with these things and that’s impossible for you.”

“Is not!”

You turn to stare at him while you dryly ask, “Are you done stalling now?”

His cheeks are flushed with chagrin. “I’m not stalling!”

“Let’s get started, then. I want today to be over. I’m exhausted.” You are tired, true, but you mainly want to run and hide away in your room. Those…thoughts…about Suguru…they still linger in the back of your mind. You’re pointedly not trying to look at him specifically, instead focusing on Nanami or Haibara.

“Fine.”

Satoru makes a show of stomping away. You follow after him with a shake of the head and quiet chuckle. Just a little pushback from people for once and he can’t take it? Suguru will definitely give him more shit later. You wonder if Suguru will lecture him in the showers—

Stop! Stop! Stop!

Where the fuck did that come from? You’re so struck by your own brain’s train of thought that you almost trip over your feet. As you meet Satoru on the other side of the field, you purposely put your back to the first years. You pray that you won’t bump into them. You don’t know that you can stand to face Suguru right now. You’re done. This day has been weird and hellish. You’ll just have to apologize to Satoru later for your impending brutality. You can’t take it easy on him today if you want to be dismissed by Sensei as soon as possible.

“Start already!” Sensei shouts from the other side of the field.

You’re not sure whether Utahime would consider you a friend yet, but since Shoko has the hugest crush on her but is too scared to ask her on an actual date, you’ve spent a lot of time with the two of them. A favorite activity of hers is dancing. It makes sense because it’s an integral part of her technique. More often than not, when you and Shoko visit Utahime in Kyoto, you three end up dancing the night away in her apartment.

And you, practical person that you are, have started to infuse what you’ve learned into your attack style. It’s useful against people like Suguru and Satoru who are so much taller and physically stronger than you. Because, like all things, there are disadvantages to their size. You’re more nimble, more flexible. They naturally swing high which has you mostly going low—sometimes, even dropping to do the splits. When they try to kick, you can dance away or, if you react fast enough, you can catch their leg to sweep them off their feet.

It's been some time since you’ve sparred with Satoru, but that doesn’t mean you’re still not watching. You know how he fights, but today…it’s different. He’s as dodgy as you are. If you didn’t know better, you’d say that he’s pulling his punches. Never let it be said that he’s not a fast learner, so maybe he’s adjusting to match your fight style. He’s like a snake, trying to lash out to get his fangs in you, trying to wrap around you. You narrowly miss getting locked down when he snatches your sweatshirt by pulling yourself out of it.

Just when you think you have his moves down, it only gets weirder. His cheeks are pink. You didn’t think you were going hard enough at him to make him sweat, but maybe you’re wrong. Now, he’s purely on the defensive…or so you think. You should’ve known better. You make the mistake of trying to throw yourself fully on the offense. So, when you aim a high kick at him, he snatches your ankle and roughly yanks you.

It happens fast. You try to catch yourself with your hands, twisting your torso to try to get them on the ground. It doesn’t work in that respect, but it does hook your ankle around Satoru’s neck enough to tip him forward. The back of your head smacks against the ground painfully. The breath is knocked out of you when Satoru’s heavier body lands right on top of you.

“Ow, ow, ow, Sketch. You kicked my head!”

Words are stuck in your throat.

Because, suddenly, you have become hyperaware of your own body. And it’s not exactly like that’s…abnormal…but this…isn’t overstimulation. Or…maybe it is? A shiver runs down your spine. The points of contact where Satoru’s bare skin touches yours are like live wires—heated and sparking.

With the first few buttons of his shirt popped open, your cheek is smashed against his bare skin. Since you’re in a short-sleeve shirt, one of his stupidly huge hands are wrapped around your arm. And…and when he tries to lift away from you, his…his knee slips up and…accidentally nudges up between your thighs…

You bite down on your bottom lip and squeeze your eyes shut, but it’s not enough to hold back the tiny whimper in response to the rush of heat that zips up your spine.

Oh, no.

Oh, no, no, no, no, no.

Above you, Satoru goes rigid. You’re mortified. He heard. “Ow!” It’s all you can think to do. You hope that he falls for your desperate attempt to make that sound like a pained whimper. You need out of here. Fuck the consequences. You squeak out, “I yield!”

“Cool!” Satoru sounds as equally panicked as you do. “My prize is your sweatshirt!”

“Whatever! Can you m—”

There’s a burst of cursed energy. Then, you two become a dizzyingly mess of limbs. You yelp and instinctively grip at Satoru, but because he lifted his arm, his shirt rode up, so you’re grabbing at his bare waist and digging your nails in. He squawks at the rough treatment, trying to lean away, and his hand ends up groping one of your tits when he tries to get his bearings.

As soon as your sweatshirt that he pulled toward him with Blue is finally in his hand, Satoru moves away from you. He chokes when he’s yanked back viciously by the back of his collar. Suguru uses so much force that it briefly lifts Satoru’s knees off the ground. Satoru, weirdly, is protective of his prize because he only reaches back to swat at Suguru with one hand while the other keeps your sweatshirt pressed against his body.

“Satoru!” Suguru shouts. “What the hell? We don’t use cursed techniques in sparring—”

“I’m okay!” You scramble to lift yourself up from the ground. “I am okay!” You don’t know who you’re trying to convince, but Suguru isn’t buying it. You can’t blame him. There’s a tremble in your voice, sweat lining your skin, and your heart is pounding away in your chest. “I hope that everyone has a good sparring session! I’m done!”

Sensei and Suguru both call out your name, but you’re already power walking away from the field.

Despite what some people may think, you’re not stupid or naïve.

But…with how much time it took you to figure out what it was that you were feeling today since that time in the gym…you might be in denial.

In the communal showers, under the lukewarm spray of water, you have your hands pressed to your scalding hot cheeks. You continue to take deep breaths. None of this helps. There’s a very real urge to clench your thighs together. Because there’s a very real ache between them. Because your mind is an endless loop—sweat-slick skin and the hair stuck to it, flashes of skin from shirts ridden up, the outline of defined muscles hidden under white shirts, massive hands…

You slap your hands over your face which…doesn’t help. Since you’re alone, you crouch down without the fear of judgement. If you weren’t alone, you think you still wouldn’t care. You’re in the middle of a crisis. Is this a moral crisis? No. Wait. Oh, no. Is this what they call a sexual awakening?

No. That’s stupid. You’ve obviously felt desire before. Kind of. It was about as lukewarm an experience as the water that pounds against your back right now. Your thoughts had been scattered, nowhere in particular, so maybe that’s why it’d been dry—both literally and metaphorically.

This…this is so different from back then. This is warm. It’s heat. You’re throbbing. You didn’t think that you could ever feel this way. You’ve never wanted to touch yourself so badly. And that in itself isn’t a bad thing. You’ve never understood the point in shame over a natural bodily reaction and doing something to satisfy it. It never flustered you as much as your fellow classmates to hear the boys make sexual innuendos.

No, this shame comes from who you want to think about as you touch yourself. Even now, past your distress, you want to drop to your knees, slip your hand down between your thighs, and know what it’s supposed to truly feel like. But you know…you know that if you do that, their faces will be at the forefront of your mind.

You’re not supposed to think about Satoru and Suguru like this!

They are your best friends!

How the hell are you supposed to ignore this? You finally understand what some people mean when they say they feel like a cat in heat. It’s fine. You’ll just…get your mind off it. Ugh. So, going back to your room is a bad idea. If you’re left alone with your thoughts, you’ll never stop thinking about it. What can you do, though? Why is your go-to always hanging out with friends? You don’t want to be around people anymore. You’re so mentally exhausted now.

Right, okay, you’ll drop to your other default.

There was a bird nest in the big tree outside the classroom window. If you’re lucky, the mama bird will stay still long enough for you to draw her.

As always, drawing manages to knock you out of your head.

It calms you down to the point that between one blink and the next, you’re asleep. Not that you realize that until the ground falls out from underneath you and you jerk awake. There’s a part of you that knows whose arms you’re in, though, so your brain is still calm enough to try and drag you back to sleep.

With a sigh, you slip your arms around his neck and shove your face in the crook of his neck. “Sketchbook,” you mumble as almost an afterthought.

“I’ll come back for it later,” Suguru whispers. “You have to stop sketching outdoors when you’re so tired, Squid. You’ll catch cold.”

“Okay,” you agree sleepily.

Suguru chuckles quietly. “Forget it. I’ll lecture you tomorrow.”

***

“This one?”

You take a step to the side, almost shoulder-to-shoulder with Shoko. You hunch over to examine where she points at on the display case. It’s a cute tongue ring with a charm in the shape of a heart. “Pretty, but too flat.” She raises a brow in question. “I like it when they have the little ball on the end. See?” You open your mouth to physically show her the piercing and how you roll it against your teeth. “It’s really satisfying to play with.”

On the other side of the display case, Utahime clicks her tongue. “That could easily turn into a dangerous distraction.”

You tilt your body to stare at her through the crack of display cases. Deadpan, you ask, “You have a problem with my tongue piercing but not with Shoko’s smoking?”

“I’m trying to save you from her bad influence,” Utahime shoots back.

“Hey,” Shoko complains.

Then, hypocritically, Utahime points at her side of the case. “What about one of these?” Clearly, if she’s making suggestions then she doesn’t care all that much about your piercing…ah. Wait. She was joking. Maybe a little. You’re still trying to get a read on how Utahime communicates.

You step over to her side of the case. You can’t catch yourself before you let out a shudder and scrunch your nose in disgust. It’s a bead, sure, but it’s those rubbery ones with equally rubbery spikes. Just the thought of that touching the inside of your mouth is nauseating. “Um…thank you for the suggestion, but…no.” You try to keep it polite as to not offend her.

Utahime snorts. “Okay. Stick to metal.” She blinks. “Oh. What about this one?”

The price tag makes you internally cringe, but then you actually look at it, and you immediately know you want it. You have the money saved up for it, anyway. It’s probably plastic, but it’s shaped and shiny enough to look like it’s made of diamond. At that price, it might be made of that off-brand diamond. The charm on the end is in the shape of a dragon’s head.

Excitement surges through you. You practically bounce over to a store worker to have them unlock the case and take the tongue ring to the register. As soon as it’s paid for, you skip out of the store and make a break for the nearest restroom. Just as you have it torn open and are washing it with hand soap, Shoko and Utahime burst into the restroom behind you.

“You’re really excited about this,” Utahime remarks.

“Ahh.” Shoko finally gets a good look at the tongue ring when you hold it up in the light. “No wonder you’re so excited. It’s like a little rainbow dragon.”

The tongue ring almost goes down the drain when you nearly drop it. Looking over your shoulder, you glare at her. “That’s not it at all!” The defensiveness isn’t helping your case, you realize, so you turn back to the mirror. “Jeez, Shoko, not everything I do is about Suguru or Satoru! Can I not get something because it looks cool?”

In the reflection, you watch Shoko put her hands up in surrender. “Whoa, okay, I didn’t mean to offend you, your highness.”

“Inside voice, please,” Utahime reminds you. Then, to Shoko, she says, “She’s right, y’know. Not everything has to revolve around those two. A woman can dress up solely for herself. We know Duck isn’t the type to make herself uncomfortable for someone else.”

Slowly, you move to face Utahime, expression blank. “What did you just call me?”

Shoko, smartly, uses Utahime’s embarrassed stream of apologies as a chance to escape.

You need new fucking friends.

As you and Shoko meander your way up the main staircase that leads back to campus, she casually asks, “So, what’s going on with you and Gojo?”

Ha. As if you’d admit the truth. “What do you mean?”

“C’mon, pretty girl. Don’t act like you haven’t noticed how quiet Gojo’s been.” For a moment, you stupidly think that she’ll keep the focus on Satoru, but you’re not so lucky. “As for you…it’s hard to explain because quiet is your default, but you’ve been really…dodgy. Acting like a nervous wild animal that runs whenever someone gets close.” Oh, you are praying that she doesn’t connect the dots. No dice. “That someone is Gojo and Geto.”

“You know how they are, Shoko. They’re always so touchy. I haven’t been in the mood to deal with that,” you lie. Well. It’s part lie. What you can and can’t handle always goes day by day.

“No, see, I know that’s a lie. Like Utahime said, you never hesitate to tell us when you’re uncomfortable. If you’re having a bad day, you let us know about it.” Shit. “Geto and I are just trying to figure it out. This started after you and Gojo sparred. I thought maybe you’re scared of Gojo and Gojo is scared that you’re scared of him, but you two are acting weird around Geto, too. So, it can’t be that—”

You try to interrupt in as less a panicky way as possible. “It really isn’t that deep—”

“I thought it had to do with the giant crush that Gojo has on you, but like I said, he’s acting like a flustered virgin around you and Geto—”

“Crush?” Shoko holds out an arm to catch you when your foot catches a step the wrong way and you stumble forward. You jerk to face her, eyes wide with shock. “What are you talking about?! Are those cigarettes laced with something, Shoko? Do you need glasses or something?”

Shoko laughs. “Sure, the person that struggles with social cues is going to lecture me.”

“I’m not dumb.”

“When did I say you were?”

“What I mean is that I could tell if he has a crush on me. He’d act different around me, right? Satoru doesn’t know how to be subtle. Since he acts no different around me than he does anyone else, the only logical conclusion is he doesn’t feel any different for me, either.”

“I can’t believe you’re coming at this like a math problem. No. Actually, I can believe that.” She rolls her eyes. “First of all, emotions aren’t logical. Second, and more importantly, he absolutely acts different around you and Geto.”

You huff. “You just proved your point wrong. If he has a crush on me, he wouldn’t treat Suguru the same, would he?”

“Ah. Wait. You’re right. Unless…ooh.” She knocks one fist against her open palm as if she’s had an epiphany. You’re terrified to hear what she’s come up with. “Unless he’s got a crush on both of you. That’s what it is. It makes so much sense. Oh, man. I’ve got to talk to Nanami and Haibara now.”

Your head is spinning. “No, you’re not talking to them about this! I don’t even think there’s a word to describe how far you’re reaching right now, Shoko!” You shake your hands, desperately trying to get out your nervous energy. “Look, I’d understand if he has a crush on Suguru. They’d be a hot couple, okay? But don’t…don’t bring me into this! That’s…anyway, isn’t that cheating?” Your voice quiets. “Isn’t that…wrong?”

“It’s not like any of you are in a relationship. So, no, I don’t think it’s cheating. I still wouldn’t. Cheating is if the other person doesn’t know you’re involved with someone else.” She shrugs. “I might be a biased opinion. There are a lot of people who say that me liking girls is wrong. So, if everyone cares about everyone else involved, then what’s wrong with more than two people in a relationship?”

Oh.

Well, that’s…

You don’t know what to do with all this.

“Okay, that’s…that’s true. I can understand that. It’s like another one of those things that people worry about when there’s no reason.” She nods in agreement. “You’re still wrong about the crush thing, though. Why would someone have a crush on me? No one ever has. Why would they start now?”

“No one has had a crush on you that you know of,” Shoko corrects cryptically. “Are we going to ignore you called them hot?”

“Are you blind?”

“No. I’m gay.”

“Shoko, I like girls, too. It doesn’t make you less of a lesbian if you admit they’re aesthetically pleasing.”

“Sure, but their personalities are so awful that it just ruins everything else.”

“Are you sure that this isn’t just you being uncomfortable that it’s like looking in a mirror when you see them? You all have the exact same sense of humor. You’re definitely as much of an asshole as them.” She bursts out in a fit of laughter. “Yeah, yeah, keep laughing. You know it’s true.”

Shoko wipes at her tears of laughter. As she starts to walk forward again, she remarks, “You talk big, pretty girl, but you can be an asshole yourself.”

***

If there was one thing that Shoko was right about, it’s that you’ve been obviously skirting around Satoru and Suguru. For three nights straight, both your mind and body toss and turn as you try to figure out where this sudden awareness of their bodies is coming from.

Technically, you’ve been through this before with Suguru, but…was it to this degree?

It’d been one of those rare days that you were allowed to work out in the fields with your parents. When you’d hunted Suguru down to not be so bored as you pulled crops, he’d been hunched over with no shirt on. It wasn’t the first time that you’d seen him without a shirt, per se. You’d both gone swimming before…

You’re not sure what it was. Maybe it was like how your grandparents, who lived in a different village, would remark on how much you’d grown between monthly visits. You would look in the mirror every day, so the changes in yourself were infinitesimal compared to someone that only saw you once a month. It could’ve been that, on that day, your brain had finally caught up on all the ways that Suguru had grown.

That skinny boy with his bony elbows and knobby knees and short, wild hair had grown. He’d finally hit a growth spurt the year before and was taller than everyone else in the village now. He towered over you, skin golden and dripping with sweat. He’d started to slowly grow his hair out and it was long enough to be pulled back in a stubby ponytail. He hadn’t been as toned as he is now, but it was still enough for your eyes to follow along the subtle swell of his biceps.

Jeez, that had been the last year of middle school, you think. Are you having another one of those moments? Did Satoru get caught in the crossfire?

The real question is…why aren’t you as aware of everyone else at school as you are of them? Like you told Shoko, anyone with a pair of eyes can see that they’re aesthetically pleasing. You’ve known that Suguru is a heartthrob since middle school. But…so is everyone else at school.

Shoko is a bombshell. That beauty mark? That poster that had made you blurt out your attraction and caused your mother to smack you, you’re pretty sure the model had a beauty mark, too. Shoko has the whole femme fatale thing going on now that she’s smoking. It’s not like you can blame it on height thing, either. Nanami is as tall as Suguru, the both of them just barely under Satoru. Even with the…stoic loner vibe and haircut…he’s also very handsome. Ruggedly so. Haibara is boyishly handsome, too, and very fit since his family runs a dojo.

So, why?

Why is your body reacting like this to only them?

It’s fine, you tell yourself. You can acknowledge that they’re pretty. There’s nothing wrong with that. You are, as many adults have complained about before, a hormonal teenager. It’s a little embarrassing, your body fixating on them, but you need some good old fashioned exposure therapy. You miss the normalcy that comes with them. You’re bored without them around. Your brain will whip your hormonal body into shape.

The morning after you’ve made your decision, you, admittedly, might…go from zero to a hundred. Despite your exhaustion from the lack of sleep, you think this will be a good day for your senses. Knowing that Satoru and Shoko are the type to show up at the last minute, you rush to meet Suguru on his way to class.

When you see him, back turned, head ducked as he looks at his phone, bag over his shoulder, your feet speed up. And then you throw yourself at his back, locking your arms around his waist, squeezing him tight. Suguru is so surprised that his phone clatters to the ground, yanking out his earbuds.

Suguru lifts his arm up, looking under it, and you poke your head out further to show him it’s you. “Sorry,” you apologize meekly in regard to the fright. You crouch down to pick his phone and earbuds up.

“It’s fine,” he breathes out. “Someone is in a good mood this morning.”

“Sorry,” you repeat. “I feel bad now. You ask me if I want to be touched. I really should’ve done the same.”

“Should I renew my blanket permission? You don’t have to ask me.”

“Permission renewed.”

Suguru chuckles lowly as he tries to turn around in your arms. You take a step back, letting him have room, but you don’t make it very far. He snatches your wrist and yanks you back toward him, making you squeak in surprise. He wraps you up tight in his arms. Your body is tense, you know, only made worse by the rapid beat of your heart and heat prickling across your skin, but you’re trying not to act weird.

“Sorry for being…” You don’t know how to describe it without being incriminating. “My head has been in weird places.”

“Why haven’t you talked to me about it?”

“It’s embarrassing,” you mumble before pressing your face against his chest.

“Since when did you start to feel shame?” Suguru teases. You dig your fingers into his side meanly, knowing it’s a spot that gets him squirming. Sure enough, he tries to wiggle away from you. “Cut it out,” he demands with a laugh. You do as he asks. “Let me be serious, Squid. I want you to talk to me, okay? Have I ever made you feel like you couldn’t be yourself or say what you want around me?”

“…no,” you admit after a pause.

“Why start now, then?” His grip around you goes unbearably tight. He buries his face in your hair and confesses, “I was worried that I scared you with how rough I got with Satoru.”

“Suguru!” You fist your hands in the front of his blazer and shove him away enough to make him look at your face. “That might be the most offensive thing you’ve ever said to me!” His brows furrow in confusion. You nearly shake him. “I will never ever be scared of you, okay? I think it’s physically impossible for my body to think of you as a threat.”

Suguru raises his arms in defeat. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry, Squid. I didn’t think you’d take it so personally.”

“You’re the most important person to me. Why wouldn’t I take that personally?” You step back and cross your arms over your chest. “How would you feel if I asked if you were scared of me?”

“It might actually be physically impossible for you to look scary.”

“Never mind. I’m not talking to you anymore,” you declare with a huff before you start stomping away.

Suguru chases after you with a laugh.

The next day, in the late afternoon, you’re on your way to the bus stop, planning to head into the city for something to eat. You like this bus. Since the school’s campus is so far out, the bus is smaller, and there’s only one seat per aisle. No one will sit next to you. You don’t have to make small talk, either. You finally dropped money for a MP3 player, so when you have earbuds, you’re simply written off as a rude teenager and usually aren’t bothered.

At the torii gate, though, your dinner plans change because Satoru is waiting for you with your sweatshirt over one arm and a bag of takeout dangling from his other hand.

The two of you sneak inside an empty classroom, glowing orange with the afternoon sun. He shoves a desk in front of the one you sit at, giving you both room to eat the ramen he bought. Wordlessly, he passes you the sweatshirt. At first, you were confused over how he even got it, but you realize it’s the one from when you two sparred. It’s still warm, you think, and smells like the really expensive laundry detergent.

Unthinkingly, you shove your face against the fabric, taking a lungful and soaking in the soft warmth. You rub your face against it. Satoru snorts before he speaks directly to you for the first time in…a few days, probably. “It’s like looking at a kitten.”

“That’s rich when you’re cuddling with those soft Digimon plushies,” you grumble. You carefully fold it up and shove it down in your bag. “You didn’t have to wash it, y’know. What? Did you spill something on it or stain it or something?”

Satoru shouts, “No!” His face is bright red, though. The reddest that you’ve ever seen it. It’s answer enough.

“Don’t be so defensive. It’s okay if you did.” Your leg is bouncing from nervousness. This is so bad. You shouldn’t be nervous around best friends. “Are we done being weird around each other?”

He is pointedly not looking at you as he divvies out the plastic containers. “I’m…um…I guess I should apologize first. I didn’t scare you or anything, did I?”

You blink, honestly confused and trying to figure out why you’d be scared. “It was just Blue?”

“Yeah, but still…”

“I knew you wouldn’t hurt me.” You break your chopsticks apart but pause. “I’m more disappointed than anything. Using your technique because you’re too lazy to walk and get my sweatshirt? What if the school was suddenly attacked and you didn’t have any cursed energy left because you’ve been flinging it around everywhere?”

Satoru rolls his eyes. “Do you even know how much cursed energy I have? Using it here and there isn’t going to kill me. And what kind of hypothetical is that, anyway? This is the safest place in the jujutsu world.”

“The Special Assault Team could storm campus with machine guns or something.”

“Okay, then I’d have Suguru use Hong to deflect the bullets while something else in his arsenal eats them.”

You shake your head. “And he’d do it, too. For all the lectures he gives you about being spoiled, he’s the worst.”

“Heh! So do you,” he sings.

The worst part is that he’s right. Still, you feel the need to defend your honor. “Who can say no to the jujutsu world’s prettiest princess? Lord Gojo is such a demanding little thing. No one wants to deal with one of his tantrums.”

“I know you’re trying to be an asshole, but I am the prettiest princess in all the land.”

The two of you continue to make innocent jabs at each other while you eat. In the middle of dinner, Suguru texts, asking where you are and what you’re doing. You tell him, knowing that he’ll be here sooner rather than later. Sure enough, not even ten minutes later, he’s at the doorway in baggy sweats and a big white shirt. His long hair is down, still dripping. Did he seriously come here from the showers?

You swallow, a lump in your throat. It’s fine. This is fine. His nipples are hard and poking against his shirt, but that’s a natural bodily response. Just like how you squeeze your thighs together.

Fuck. You need to run your mouth before this gets weird. “You need to blow-dry your hair. You’ll get sick, walking around with wet hair.”

Suguru’s eyes narrow. “Are you lecturing me? Miss Barefoot-in-Snow?”

“I like to see my footprint in the snow and the crunch is nice.”

“Wear socks, at least.”

In unison, you and Satoru give a scandalized, “And have wet socks?!” You’re too busy shuddering at the thought, so Satoru continues on your behalf. “It’s like you want her to die!”

“Remind me to put my blazer over any puddles that you might have to step in, Lord Satoru,” Suguru says dryly.

“More proof to the princess allegations,” you mutter.

Satoru harrumphs. “I never denied being a princess.”

Suguru fully steps inside the classroom, approaching you both, grabbing a chair along the way. “I don’t even want to know.”

***

A month of normalcy passes, and you naively think that all is right in the world once again.

It’s been an exhausting day.

As it happens when the weather starts to warm up, cursed spirit activity is on the rise again.

For Nanami and Haibara’s first mission, you are the one tasked with their supervision. You weren’t anyone’s first pick, but there was no other choice. The more experienced sorcerer assigned was called away last minute to handle a higher grade. There’s a situation somewhere in Hokkaido, potentially Special Grade. A lot of sorcerers have been seriously hurt, so Shoko went with Satoru and Suguru.

You were given one hell of a lecture when you argued with Sensei about him going with the first years instead. A chance to study a Special Grade? You didn’t want to pass that up! Then, maybe you hadmade a bitchy remark about how a potential promotion to principal is getting to his head.

Anyway, the assignment with the first years went fine.

You were lectured yet again, this time by Haibara of all people. There’s a possibility that you…sort of pacified everything in the area. In your defense, the briefing said there would only be a pack of low-level spirits. A separate, higher graded spirit must’ve been close by, heard the violence, and slipped past the veil to get in on the action. When Nanami was smacked away with enough force that he cracked the wall he landed against, you panicked.

Ugh. You’re definitely not beating those Mama Duck accusations anymore.

You force yourself through dinner with them because you wanted to be polite and felt like you owed them since you cut the mission short. It’s dusk, almost night, but the lights of the city and restaurant are still too bright. They decide on a place that’s packed and so loud. By the time you three step outside, you have a pounding headache and nearly fall asleep against Nanami’s shoulder because you’re drained.

After you’re showered and dressed for bed, you flop back on your mattress with a weary sigh. On instinct, you reach for your cell phone, checking for any new messages like you have been the last three days. It’s late. You don’t expect much from them. Satoru used Blue at maximum output three times, Shoko reported. Suguru swallowed the curse when it was weak enough. Satoru will be wiped out and Suguru will be in bed immediately to digest the curse.

Everyone has been sending you pictures. The most recent and most likely last batch of the night are from Shoko. One that shows three bottles of nail polish, one that shows Suguru and Satoru hunched over as they paint their nails, a zoom-in of Satoru with his tongue poking out in concentration, and the last a shot of everyone’s finished nails. Satoru chose an electric blue, Suguru went with black, and Shoko has a baby pink color.

You spend way too long staring at that picture. There’s something in the pit of your stomach, seeing Shoko’s hand so close to theirs. It’s small compared to theirs. You wish that it could be your hand there. You want to run the tip of your finger along the line of their prominent veins. You’d hold both your hands up so they could press one of theirs against it, just to see how much they dwarf your own. What would the fit be like if you laced your fingers through theirs?

Your phone chimes with a text from Suguru. Face hot, you quickly back out of the conversation with Shoko, feeling guilty for a reason you can’t pinpoint. As soon as Shoko told you that Suguru swallowed the curse, you immediately texted Suguru, wanting to check in and remind him to remember to grab some instant rice for the morning. It’ll be easy on his stomach. You made him send a picture as proof. After he did, he wanted to know if you’d eaten yourself. You sent a picture of your meal. Suguru hadn’t responded to that text until now.

I’m proud of you for going out. I always worry about you being lonely, his text says. You’re about to roll your eyes at his mother hen tendencies, but then his next message rolls in. Be a good girl for me until I get back. Night, Squid.

The phone slips out of your hand, the edge of it landing painfully on the bridge of your nose. You jerk up from the mattress, clutching at your nose. Why is your face on fire? He…he was teasing, right? Be a good girl for me. They…they were just some words. You shake your hands, trying to dispel the sudden surge of panicked energy. Be a good girl for me. Great. That’s stuck in your head now. Shit.

Goodnight, Suguru, you reply back with slightly sweaty fingers. Sweet dreams.

Eh. They’re never that sweet without you around.

Is…is this…no. No. This isn’t flirting. It’s just…being a friend. That’s something friends would say, right? Yeah. This is just another roundabout way of saying that he misses you. Yeah, yeah. I miss you, too, you send back. Maybe some of Satoru’s sweetness can rub off on your dreams.

Fingers crossed. See? Friendly banter. If he was flirting, he wouldn’t pull Satoru into the conversation, right? I’ll text you in the morning when we’re leaving.

Rolling over on your side, you curl up into as much of a ball as you can and shove your face against your pillow. You have to stop yourself when you realize you’re rubbing your feet together again because you can’t fall asleep like that. Just go to sleep, you tell yourself.

Closing your eyes, you breathe in and out.

In and out.

In and out.

In and out.

Over and over and…

…the mattress dips down. One side and then the other. You’re on your belly, arm shoved under the pillow that your face is still shoved into. You tilt your head to the side, eyes still closed, too exhausted to open them. You know these bodies that press up against each side of your own.

Someone’s hand presses against the small of your back and it’s almost like lightning shoots up your spine. In nothing but your sports bra, it’s bare skin against bare skin. But that’s nothing compared to the rush that comes when he leans down to press a kiss to where his hand previously was, so close to your ass, to your…

“Be a good girl,” Satoru quietly sings as the tips of his fingers land on the back of your calf. Your fingers are clenching the sheets. You gasp as his fingers teasingly begin to meander up your legs. Dancing around your inner thighs. “Mm, you’re the prettiest princess in all the land.” Oh. Oh. He’s so close. He’s going to feel how wet you are. “Heh, hell yeah, I am. Are you as pretty down here as you are everywhere else?”

“Satoru,” you gasp before you shove your face back against the pillow.

Another hand splays around the back of your neck, slipping up and around, cupping the side of your face. When he guides you to turn your face back toward him. A thumb runs along your bottom lip, dipping inside your mouth. Just a tease, though. You’re the one that sucks it back into your mouth.

“Such a good girl,” Suguru whispers against your ear. “Sweet girl.” He pulls his hand away, fingers teasingly running along the band of your sports bra.

“Suguru.”

“Let us handle it.”

And your eyes open before they’re closing again. You’re rolling your face against the pillow. As you’re clinging to the last vestiges of your dream, you don’t quite yet comprehend that it’s your hand shoved down your shorts. The line between dream and reality is a blur.

Sheets tangled around your legs are what you imagine what it would feel like to have theirs around yours instead. Your warm breath that fans out across your face as you’re panting against your pillow could be mistaken as theirs while they’re whispering into your ears. The heat inside you is almost unbearable, pitching up into a fervor, only spurred on by the desperate rolling of your hips. It’s like liquid fire rushing through your veins, burning and burning as you hump your hand.

Finally, blissfully, you are overwhelmed by pleasure.

It all crests. Your entire body locks up and trembles. In an attempt to chase after the addictive yet fading sparks, you try to jerk your legs up to get up on your knees, but it’s too soon after your limbs were locked up. Your leg painfully cramps and throbs and you’re fully thrown out of the dream’s clutches.

Clutching at your throbbing leg, you roll over on your back and stare up at the ceiling while you suck in shaky breaths.

What did you do?

What did you just do?

All you can really think to do is shout, “Fuck!”

You’re not there when they return the next day. Just before six in the morning, Sensei called you and said that you needed to report to Kyoto as soon as possible. If you’re honest with yourself, you’re thankful that you don’t have to see them today which only adds to the guilt that’s set in the pit of your stomach like a stone. Why couldn’t this be like a normal dream that fades away before you’re out of bed?

A better question—why did you have a dream like this to begin with?

There’s a Kyoto manager waiting to pick you up from the train station. Before you slip in the car, they hold out a hand. “I’ll need your phone.”

“Excuse me?”

Their eyes seem cold, but you try to convince yourself that’s not the case. You don’t do well with catching on to how other people feel and often mistake cold with cordial. “You’ll be meeting with a few of the higher-ups.” Your eyes widen. And you have nothing to be in trouble for, but your heart rate picks up regardless. “These meetings are expected to be kept private, but your phone is confiscated as a precaution.”

“The higher-ups?” The manager nods wordlessly. “Why?”

“I wasn’t trusted with that information.” The manager steps aside and motions toward the open door. “I’m your escort. Have you had breakfast? They’ve permitted us to stop for something if you need it.”

You don’t take the manager up on the offer.

The higher-ups are already waiting for you when you make it to campus. There are only three in the room, none of them speaking, only sipping at some tea. You recognize Principal Gakuganji, but that’s it. Even worse, they’re seated around a chabudai. They’re not close enough to touch, but it’s still a much more intimate setting than if they were all behind a desk with you in a chair across the room.

Gakuganji states your name and then motions to the empty spot at the chabudai. “Sit.”

The three men introduce themselves—Gakuganji, of course, and the other two are elders of the Zen’in and Kamo clans. You don’t bother to remember their given names. You doubt that you’d ever be in the realm of familiarity with these people and, yeah, maybe you can’t read the room well, but you know they look down on you. Satoru has warned you about elders in clans and those high up on the food chain.

Superiority complex bigger than mine, Sketch, Satoru had said. And with nothing to back it up! They’re weak as hell! Even the geezers in my clan!

Gakuganji is the first to speak. “Yaga should have instructed you to bring your drawings and notes. Did you?”

“Oh. Um. Yes.” You reach inside your bag to pull out the sketchbook. It makes you twitchy when you place it on the table and Zen’in immediately reaches out to roughly grab it and slide it over in front of him. You try not to cringe when you see it slide through some tea that spilled over the rim of his cup.

You’re not allowed to watch Zen’in long. Gakuganji asks, “Is that all?”

“Pardon?”

“I was informed that you had multiple sketchbooks. You’ve kept them since before you entered Jujutsu High, correct?”

Zen’in grunts. “Is there any organization to this?” Your hands fist the hem of your skirt. The disgusted curl of his lip is downright offensive. You keep those pages clean. They’re not cluttered with doodles. You limit one curse to each page. You’ve always had neat handwriting. What more does he expect? “Tch. You’ll have to go through and identify which are with Geto Suguru.”

A cold chill runs down your spine.

“Have some patience, Zen’in,” Kamo snaps. “We’re here for more than that.” Kamo is the youngest which is to say that he’s probably barely hit the retirement age. He smiles at you. “I apologize on his behalf, young lady. Continue, please.” You suspect that he’s meant to be the one you warm up to.

Very suddenly, viscerally, you become keenly aware that you’ve stepped inside a room full of snakes. What’s worse is that a misstep isn’t going to poison you alone. Suguru’s shadow is in the room. You don’t quite understand why your instincts scream danger. Normally, you wouldn’t trust them. Something tells you that you need to right now.

“I threw those away,” you lie. You’re a good liar. With a naturally emotionless expression and flat tone, people have as hard a time reading you as you do with them. “I only had one with me before I became a sorcerer, but I threw it away. It was full and I didn’t see a need for it. It was too messy to be submitted.”

Kamo’s lips twitch. “It’s truly only that one?”

“There are six-hundred blank pages, so I planned for it to last a long time. I have another one that’s more personal. Just to work on my art.” You nearly breathe a sigh of relief. For once, your meticulous nature of keeping a hard line between what you use your sketchbooks for comes in handy. “Here.” You set your smaller, personal sketchbook on the table.” I apologize for not getting it out before. I thought you meant only what I’ve done with cursed spirits.”

Gakuganji takes your personal sketchbook, only briefly skimming through with pursed lips. “I’m sure you’ve been told, but you’re expected to turn in your work to headquarters when it’s full.” You nod slowly. “We’ve been getting feedback about you, not only from Yaga but from other sorcerers. You were the one that helped with the Red Room Curse, yes?”

“Yes.”

Zen’in snorts. “You’re telling me that old urban legend was real?”

“Walk us through your thought process,” Gakuganji requests without acknowledging Zen’in.

“The internet, in the scheme of things, is relatively new. In my studies, I’ve learned that cursed spirits tend to stay away from technology. They usually interact with it only to destroy it. So, the curse using the internet as a tool to curse and travel was a huge red flag to me,” you explain. “Legends and cursed spirits can go hand-in-hand. An existing spirit inspires a legendary monster or the negativity around a legend will create a spirit.”

“Imaginary vengeful cursed spirits,” Zen’in grunts. “We know.”

“Not always,” you correct curtly. His eyes narrow at you. “There’s that old saying…legends have a sprinkle of truth to them. It’s smart to look into these cursed spirits. An imaginary vengeful spirit could have actually started out as a regular vengeful spirit that’s connected to an area or bloodline which is what happened here. Someone cursed a relative in the Taisho era, the spirit bound itself to a red journal, and gained power until it found an easier, faster way to spread itself.”

Kamo hums thoughtfully. “There was another incident last week.” You already know the one that he’s talking about. “Has Yaga told you the outcome of the situation?” You shake your head. “Did the sorcerer on call with you explain what that cursed object was?” Another shake of the head from you. “That was one of the fingers of Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, and you were right about the seal being weak. The seal was reinforced.”

“I’m glad.”

“How did you know?”

“The activity of the cursed spirits in the area,” you lie again. Rather, it’s not the whole truth. But you’re worried that the truth could come off as a concern for them.

When you were in the range of that finger, something inside you just…knew. The cursed energy that radiated from it…there was a sense of anticipation. It’d been disorienting because the spirits in the area had the same feeling, too. It left you reeling and jittery from secondhand adrenaline.

These men don’t need to know that you’re feeling cursed spirits. No. Cursed energy. As the days tick by, you’re getting closer and closer to your dreadful theory being proven correct. You don’t want the higher-ups to come to that conclusion, too. You’re not sure what would happen if they thought you could influence anyone with a shred of cursed energy.

“We’d like to offer you an internship of sorts,” Gakuganji speaks up. “Each of the major clans have a storage of cursed objects, tools, and weapons. We do this so everything isn’t centralized to the school campuses, in case of a successful raid. Starting your third year, we’d like you to visit their main compounds and examine their collections.”

You catch yourself before you agree. “I would need cursed spirits to see how they act.”

“That’s not a problem for the Zen’in. We have a pit full of them.”

Again, you bite back the urge to ask this man why the fuck his clan has a pit of curses. “The pacification alters their behavior. It would only be effective if I hid myself from them, but that doesn’t protect anyone else in the compound. I don’t feel comfortable with that kind of risk.”

Kamo and Zen’in burst out in loud guffaws. The sudden noise makes you visibly wince. When they quiet, Kamo explains the hilarity by saying, “You’ll be in compounds with some of the strongest sorcerers in the world. We can handle some low grade cursed spirits.”

Your brows furrow. “Won’t there be children—”

Zen’in rolls his eyes and waves off your concern with a callous, “They need the practice.”

Is this seriously what it’s like to be born into one of these clans? These men are at the highest place in their clans, in jujutsu society. Better than anyone else, they should understand how rare sorcerers are. Why would they be so careless with the lives of their clansmen? You understand that this is ruthless work, and to coddle children can be a death sentence in itself, but this just seems cruel for the sake of cruelty.

Was Satoru’s world this cruel?

“I’d like a partner with me,” you force yourself to politely request. “Please.”

“One of the first years,” Kamo reluctantly agrees. Your mouth opens to protest, but he holds a hand up. “No Gojo will step foot on my clan’s compound. As for the Geto boy, it’s pointless. His control over cursed spirits is as manipulative as your pacification abilities, right?”

“Yaga says that Nanami Kento is showing promise,” Gakuganji adds.

“For once, I agree with Kamo. I’d burn my compound to the ground before I let a Gojo waltz in,” Zen’in spits on the ground, to which Kamo and Gakuganji make displeased noises. “And I’m not adding more fodder to the army of that brat with the Curse Manipulation.”

An offer, they say, but even you with your struggles to grasp social cues knows that this isn’t an option. No one in your position can say no to the higher-ups. With a smile that’s probably more of a grimace, you grit out, “Nanami will be fine.”

Sensei is in the longue outside the room where you met with the three elders. Said men who had been escorting you out, all rush on, leaving you in your teacher’s care. Not that you want to be around him right now. You might be more furious with him than the people you just met with. Sensei is next in line to be principal. He’s essentially a liaison with Lord Tengen. There’s no way he didn’t know what this conversation would be about. You wonder if he’s the one that suggested this.

Maybe you’re overreacting, but it feels like he’s stabbed you in the back.

There’s a lot that you want to say, but you won’t. There’s no point in it. It’ll only send you to your inevitable breakdown. You feel that rumble inside you. But…maybe you can get some answers out of Sensei before that happens. So, you demand to know, “Why are they like that with Suguru? He hasn’t done anything!”

Sensei drops down in a chair, sighing tiredly as he goes. “It’s…not only Suguru. This is a lack of trust in anyone that’s been marked as Special Grade.”

“Why? What did they do that was so wrong?”

“Do you know what it takes for someone to be considered Special Grade?”

“Anomalies in the system,” you recite. His own words, you might add.

“Yes, but there’s more to it than that. The truth is that Special Grade sorcerers are those who have potential to devastate. You’re a logical girl. You can understand that Suguru has access to an army. Satoru, when he’s at his full potential, will most likely be the strongest sorcerer of the modern era—”

“Fear,” you spit. “This is fear.”

“Yes,” Sensei confirms without a beat. “They’re afraid. There’s currently only one other Special Grade sorcerer. Before this generation, the rank Special Grade had only been reserved for cursed spirits. To suddenly have so many, and all at once, it’s only made the higher-ups more afraid.” He hunches over, putting his elbows on his knees. “It’s not fair, I know, but this is how it has to be. That much power comes with certain responsibilities.”

Your fists clench. “I understand that, Sensei, but where’s the trust? All our lives, we’ve been…no one has ever trusted us. We came here because we wanted to be around people like us. We wanted to be accepted. What’s different between our village and here? Nothing. Sometimes, I think it’s worse. We’re not weapons. We’re people.”

“They know that.”

At your breaking point, you shout, “Do they?!” There’s so much more you want to say. I’m not spying on Suguru. I’ll lie on every single one of those pages that I send to headquarters. Somehow, you have the wherewithal to realize that that’s not a smart idea. Sensei is on your side, but not as much as you thought before. He’s chained by the higher-ups. “I’ll make my own way back to Tokyo.”

And you make sure to slam the door on the way out.

As you’re storming out of the building, you throw your hood up and shove on your sunglasses. You’re storming through campus with a trembling bottom lip and tears slowly trickling down your cheeks. You had hoped that it would be dead, but you’re not that lucky. There are a few students, a few more mature sorcerers, and you keep your head ducked down. You’re biting your lip raw to hold back the sobs threatening to spill out.

You make it as far as the outside of Kyoto High’s barrier before you can’t take it anymore and duck off the path. You drop down on a small boulder and cry. Between gasping breaths and desperately trying to wipe away tears that won’t stop, you pull out your cell phone.

Because you can’t do it. You can’t be around strangers. A two-hour bullet train ride is too daunting. Thinking of the smells of meals that people eat to pass the time, of the noise from even whispered conversations that would be loud to your overworking mind, of only an armrest separating you from another person and how that would make your skin crawl. An even worse hell would be a grueling five-hour drive with a manager back to Tokyo.

Please come pick me up, you text with trembling fingers. Not even thirty seconds later, your phone is ringing, but you quickly deny the call. No, you rush to text. Can’t talk, you add before he gets the wrong idea. Crying too hard to talk, you admit. The confession only makes you sob harder, of course. You can put your fist through monsters, but you can’t talk on the phone with your best friend without bawling like a baby.

Okay, Suguru responds back. I’ll take Hong there.

Manta ray back? I don’t want to be around people.

Whatever you want.

Thank you, Suguru.

Through the canopy of the trees, you see the glitter of Hong’s rainbow scales. You’ve managed to stop crying. And you thought that you’d be okay, but seeing the concern on Suguru’s face when he finds where you’ve hidden yourself away just brings it all back.

At this point, it’s not even so much the meeting. This is pure frustration with yourself. It’s shame and embarrassment. Just a little stress and you buckle. You hate this body. You hate this brain. Why can’t you be stronger? Why can’t you push yourself through the pain? Why does there have to be pain at all?

Suguru doesn’t speak. He sits down in front of the boulder, leaning his back against it. You spread your legs, allowing his shoulders to fit between them. He knows your tights are a barrier from skin contact, so he can freely lean his head to the side, resting against the inside of your knee.

Then, Suguru waits in silence.

You need his rock-solid presence but can’t bear him watching you in this pathetic state. It only makes things worse. Normal people would want to be comforted, to be hugged, but that’s just more stress. You can’t talk like this, so you feel stupid. You feel eyes on you, so you cry harder because you’re ashamed that you got here in the first place. If you were back on your campus, you would hide yourself away in your room until you’re calm. That’s not an option here.

And…and Suguru knows this. He knows you. He won’t look at you, won’t acknowledge that you’re breaking down. Why are you so kind? You think of those three stupid, old men. How can you be afraid of someone so kind?

“Su—” you choke on his name. You can’t speak past the lump in your throat. Angry that you can’t even manage his name, you ball up your fist and start banging it against your thigh. Like that can make your body cooperate. Or…it’s punishment. It might be that.

“Squid,” Suguru whispers as he reaches out to gently take your wrist. “I know you’re mad at yourself, but don’t do that. Why don’t I tell you about the cursed spirit we saw? We can make a game of it. I try to describe it. You try to draw it.” You shake your head furiously. “You’re stuck in the loop, aren’t you? Don’t you want out?”

The loop, you call it. The way you’re stuck in an endless cycle of berating yourself for being like this. You’ll never stop unless you have a distraction and his presence isn’t enough.

When Suguru hands you your sketchbook and a pencil, you take it.

There are a lot of tear stains on the paper by the time you calm all the way down, but it does the trick.

“Eh? That doesn’t look like it at all,” Suguru mutters when you hand him the finished product. “I didn’t think I was this bad at descriptions,” he remarks with a chuckle. “Still cool, though.” Slowly, he gets to his feet, patting his pants down to get all the dirt off. He turns around and holds out a hand to you. “Ready to go?”

You take his hand as an answer.

You don’t let go.

Suguru’s eyes widen a little when you thread your fingers through his. The two of you stand there for a minute before he’s squeezing your hand and guiding you back out to the main path. A manta ray spirit is waiting there for you both, low enough that you can step on it. You’re forced to let go of his hand, but you don’t want to lose that point of contact. You’re seated behind him, cross legged. You slip your arms around his waist from behind and press your forehead against his back.

Suguru covers his hands with yours and never stops during the whole ride back.

***

You decided that you wouldn’t tell anyone about the details of that meeting until you absolutely had to. The parts of it that you had to agree to, anyway. You won’t talk about them wanting you to spy on Suguru and keep track of his spirits because you’re not doing that. It’s an invasion of privacy that you refuse to be part of. Unlike the higher-ups that see Suguru and Satoru as tools to be kept track of, they’re your best friends.

Eventually, they’ll notice that you’re not marking which spirits are his. You’ve already started to come up with excuse—you forgot, you’re too focused on capturing the spirit on the page, you had it in your mind when you were preparing them to be sent to headquarters but forgot it. They’ll catch on, probably. After that, you’ll just lie. And it kills you inside a little, but you’ll have to stop marking the date on them. It really will make it harder to remember which assignments were with Suguru and which weren’t.

Suguru knows not to ask you about what made you so upset. Maybe he’ll give a half-hearted try in a week or two, but it’s too fresh. You’ll only get upset when you remember all the negative emotions that came with a breakdown. The only smart thing those old bastards did was to have you meet with them on a Friday.

It’s Sunday now and you feel a little better. Your defiance has helped mute your anxiety a little, you guess. After going the rest of Friday and all of yesterday without speaking, you think you can manage it today. Words don’t feel as heavy. It’s not as much a daunting task as it was before. Just like going to spend time with Satoru and Suguru is a little less tiring. That’s the thing, you love to hang out with them, but it still drains your battery. It doesn’t drain as fast or as much as it would if you were around some random strangers, but down goes that metaphorical battery all the same.

Satoru is already at the meeting place—one of the many koi ponds sprinkled around campus. You don’t want to deal with grass against your skin today, so you spread out a spare blanket from your room. Satoru hums before he’s scooting over to sit down on the blanket next to you.

The two of you are side-by-side, watching the occasional koi break the surface with a splash. It’s quiet. Peaceful. Satoru rocks back and forth, fidgeting with the hem of his pant legs. You’re not surprised when he finally asks the question because you’ve been expecting it. “Are you okay?”

“Better,” you answer honestly.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“Oh.” From the corner of your eye, you see him frown. “Is it…because it’s me? I know I’m not good with…feelings and stuff. I can just fuck off if you wanted to just spend time with Suguru and talk and stuff…”

You smile. It’s small but sincere. “It’s not that, Satoru. If I wanted to talk about it, I’d feel okay doing it with you, too. But I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to cry again.”

He cringes. “Yeah, I don’t want you to cry, either.” He’s at the edge of the blanket and starts picking at blades of grass. “Is there anything I can do so that doesn’t happen again?”

“No,” you answer honestly. You’re surprised to see him flinch, like you’re hurting his feelings. He usually has thick skin. Ah, but he’s also used to being the answer to everyone’s problems. You don’t think there’s much that he can’t do. “The breakdowns are a part of me. There’s always going to be a potential to have one.” You pause. You’d rather not have him stress over this. “I can try to ask for help before it gets to that point, though. I don’t know—can you extend Infinity to protect others?”

“Ha, no. Not yet.”

“Well…I could use your blackout glasses? Light makes me the most sensitive.”

He nods slowly. “Yeah, same.”

“I won’t use them, then.”

“I can handle it for a little bit if it’ll make you feel better,” he mumbles. “I kinda get what you’re going through. I used to get super overwhelmed when I was a kid, before I could control Infinity. I would get really angry, though. There were a few times that I’d grit my teeth so hard that I’m shocked now that my teeth didn’t get chipped. I guess a part of me was scared to cry in front of tutors, so I’d be angry instead.”

You do the thing that Suguru stopped you from doing when you were in the midst of it—beating a fist against your thigh. “I get mad, too. Just at myself.” Your brows furrow. “Oh. I get angry before that point, I think. Sometimes, when I’ve been by myself, I’ve punched walls.”

Satoru’s shoulders slump. You think…is that a sigh of relief from him? “I don’t feel so bad now,” he admits embarrassedly. “The clan was kind of understanding how sensitive I am with lights because of the Six Eyes, but…they never really got how much everything else built up.” He’s fidgeting even more, uncharacteristically nervous. “I never wore tabi socks with my yukata when I went out, in case there was some water somewhere. I hate how clothes feel on my skin when they’re wet. It’s…clingy.”

It’s slowly dawning on you. Curious, you ask, “How do you feel about cotton balls?”

You watch a shudder roll down his spine. “After my first cavity, I made sure I’d never get another one. I almost sent the dentist across the room with Blue when he put those things in my mouth.”

“Eye contact?”

“Ugh, I hate that stupid shit. My old man meets with people from other countries, and they’re obsessed with it. I’m so lucky I’m in Japan.” He sticks his tongue out in disgust. “I wish I was around you when I was a kid. The sunglasses idea saved my life and my reputation. Now, people can’t figure out where I’m looking.”

“Reputation? You have one of those?”

“Rude,” Satoru complains and pokes you insistently. “People think you’re all sweet, Sketch. You’re as much of an asshole as I am, y’know. People just forgive you because you have that pretty face and cute smile. It’s the same with Suguru, too. You’re both the golden kids!”

Your heart skitters at hearing pretty face and cute smile, but he included Suguru. It’s just an observation. An exaggeration in your case, definitely, but whatever. “It’s not being an asshole. I’m just blunt.”

“So am I!”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, and I’ve also studied other people, so I know what’s too far.” You hesitate. “Usually.” Another pause from you before you finally settle on a reluctant, “Sometimes. But definitely more than you.”

He’s pouting at you. “You could be nice and teach me.”

“You don’t care enough to learn.”

“I care about people!”

“I know that.” Hmm, how do you explain it? “I’ve kinda learned from seeing you interact with Nanami and Haibara that you use that bluntness as a way to help. Put you and, say, Suguru together. You both see the same flaw and point it out. You’re not as nice as Suguru, but you don’t waste time with niceties. They’re there to learn and be critiqued. It’s not a good idea to inflate their egos. That gets people killed.”

Satoru nods enthusiastically. “See? See! You get it!”

You rush to add, “But…you should give them encouragement. It sucks to constantly be told how you’re not doing things right. I know that way too well. Just ask Suguru.”

“You’re way too soft for this line of work, Sketch.”

This day is important, though you won’t realize that until much, much later. But isn’t that how life is? Hindsight being twenty-twenty and all that.

Today is the last day that you will see Satoru and Suguru smile genuinely for a very, very long time.

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Dessert

Summary: Pero asks you an important question.

Pairing: Chef!Pero Tovar x fem. reader

Wordcount: just under 1k

Rating: M

Warnings: modern au, established relationship, fluff, kissing, implied smut

A/N: This was so much fun! Tagging @iamasaddie for her moodboard writing game. I wasn't really sure which Pedro this was so I just chose one lmao though now that I am thinking about it, it could also be Dieter.... 🤷‍♀️😂

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

You were watching the last couple sitting at the restaurant.

They were smiling at each other, their hands joined on the table. You had been watching them all night whenever you were between customers, smiling to yourself at how in love these two people were. 

You were cleaning up the last few tables when the man at the table waved for you, asking for their check. He paid with a generous tip, both of them thanking you for the great evening, asking you to give their best to the chef, before he helped her into her coat, his arm pulling her against her side as they walked out. 

You followed them to the door, locking it behind them, seeing them kiss in the moonlight, before they walked down the street arm in arm. 

Sighing with a small smile you turned back around just as Pero walked out of the kitchen. He still had his black chef jacket on, though the first couple of buttons were opened.

You had been alone out front for the last hour, having sent home the two other servers early as the restaurant slowed down. By now Pero would have sent out the rest of his kitchen staff also, leaving you alone with him. You had turned down most of the lights earlier in an attempt to gently throw out the last guests to close up, the room only lit by some candles and the very low turned skylight.

„All done?“ He asked and you nodded. He leaned in the doorway, his arms crossed in front of his chest as he watched you tidy up the last table. 

It reminded you of the first time you had walked into this restaurant almost four years ago. He had silently stood in the background watching you while the former restaurant manager led the interview for his successor. A job you got in the end.

Pero Tovar had the reputation of being difficult. Some even said he was an asshole. 

You had learned that he just had high expectations and did not hold back when those weren’t met. A trait you admired about him. He was very clear on what he wanted.

Which as you came to learn, also included you. 

You didn’t even notice him being interested in you at first, being so busy with the new job and wanting to impress him. It took at least four months until you realised that whenever he asked you to stay longer to work on whatever he would find as a excuse to spend more time with you alone. 

It took him testing out 15 different new dessert ideas after the restaurant was already closed at night, until he finally asked you out.

Now, after three years of dating, you were living together and very much in love with him. 

He stopped you as you tried to slip past him into the kitchen to put the last of the dirty dishes into the machine. He took them from you, setting them down somewhere before he slowly walked you to the closest table, his hands on your hips helping you up until you were sitting on it. 

You rested your hands behind you on the table, looking up at him in interest. 

You raised your eyebrow in question as you parted your legs so he could step between them. The skirt you had decided to wear slipping up your thighs.

He took a deep breath, his eyes focused on you. His hand coming to rest on your bare thighs as he leaned in closer. A shiver running down your spine at his touch.

You were still surprised that even after standing in a kitchen for more than four hours, you could still smell his aftershave on him. 

„I have something for you,“ he said and you frowned. His hand slipped into his pants pocket, his eyes not leaving yours.

You were about to ask if whatever he had for you was in his pants when your eyes caught something twinkling in the candle light as he brought his hand back up. A shy smile played around his lips as he looked at you, his eyes warm and wide. 

In between his fingers he held a single ring. It was a silver band and you could see something engraved in it. 

„It was my mothers ring. It is the only thing I have left from my family,“ he explained and you took a deep breath as he took your hand in his. 

„Will you wear It for me and become my wife?“ He asked and you nodded at him, a smile on your lips as tears sprung into your eyes. 

„Yes, Pero,“ you whispered and his eyes closed for a moment, his shoulders dropping in relief, before his eyes opened and he smiled, wide. 

Slowly he slipped the ring over your finger, bringing your hand up so he could press his lips on the ring that was now sitting in a perfect fit on your finger. 

You brought your other hand up to rest on his cheek and he closed the distance between you, his lips finding yours in a deep kiss. You put your arms around his neck as he stepped closer, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you close against his chest, making you gasp. 

„I think it’s time for dessert, hm?“ He mumbled against your lips, smirking, and you wondered what he had saved for dessert when he slowly got down on his knees between your legs. He rested his cheek against your thigh as he looked up at you with dark eyes, before his lips slowly searched their way between your legs. 

Your fingers were buried in his hair when he made you cum minutes later, his skilled tongue knowing exactly how to drive you over the edge. 

And later, back home after you thoroughly celebrated, you fell asleep in his arms. 

Dreaming about your future with the man you loved.

[you-are-my-neverland]

“You know, everyone else thinks you’ve lost your mind because of grief, But I know you better than that, and I know that whatever’s going on with you is more than whatever happened to your dad. The person in front of me, that’s not you. And I don’t know where the fuck she is, but I hope the real Naying Yue wakes up soon.”

NAYING YUE'S life has been on a downward spiral ever since her father disappeared three years ago. Expelled from university and alone after violently stabbing her friend in the eye, she believes her twenty first birthday is as good as any day to die, only for her suicide to be interrupted by an attack by monstrous beings. Saved by strangers who call themselves Outsiders, she is told her life as she knows it is a lie: Her father did not save her life as a child, but instead kidnapped her from the powerful Yue family. Thrown headfirst into the dangerous World of Outsiders, where humans endowed with a magical current are hunted ruthlessly by the eldritch beings known as the seraph and the power plays between factions shed just as much blood, Naying finds herself pulled by opposite powers and desires. Forced to play in games she does not fully understand and plagued by unexplained blackouts and boughts of violence, Naying must fight herself and the world to stay alive. But all she really wants is to find her father.

GODHOOD is the conceptual title for a prospective trilogy that follows Naying Yue as she reclaims her destiny. Set in a universe where magic runs parallel to the ordinary world in the form of a current. Those that possess the current are called Outsiders, endowed with extraordinary abilities and able to perceive the truth of the world, responsible for maintaining equilibrium. As Naying embraces the changes within herself, a young monk searches for an answer that has haunted him his whole life, and a skater must confront a part of herself she has tried to turn away from. A boy sits catatonic in a wheelchair in the garden, and a pair of twins are forced to chose between the past and the future. Their stories intertwine with one another's while overlapping with that of various other characters across the Godhood Universe.

Status. Drafting book one

Genre. Urban fantasy with wuxia and mythic elements

Themes & Tropes. destiny, the problem of free will, humanity, the trolley problem, the abuse and cycle of power (how we play into and uphold the systems that hurt and oppress us), individual identity & internal conflict, ambition & power, who we choose as a family, parent/child relationships (specifically father/daughter), balance

Tag: wip: godhood

More information available on the ppt intro of this wip!! I'm always open to asks about specific characters and worldbuilding, though I don't know when I'll be making an actual post about it. I mostly post small snippets here and there :)

Taglist (currently tagging those who expressed interest before, please reach out to be added or removed)

@lena-rambles @ink-flavored @vacantgodling @dirtcatty

Extra excerpt beneath cut!

“You don’t believe I’m her, do you?” she asked softly. “Naying Yue. The dead one.” “Dead, or missing?” Lien murmured in response. “Or found?” He stepped down into her space, so they were toe to toe, too crushingly close to stand on her own. She fought against stepping back, holding herself taut to prevent her body from swaying backwards without her control.  “Your bet,” she said, staring up at him. His eyes were dark. She could see a sliver of the moon in them at this distance. The last, and only, guy she had been this physically close to was Frey. “I bet you’re going to ruin something,” Lien said in a low voice. “Real or not.” Naying swallowed, then let herself smile. “How much are you willing to bet on that?” “Why?” Lien asked, boredom sweeping over his features. He took a step back. “Planning on providing a payout?” “I doubt it would be that hard,” Naying replied, following his step. “I don’t play nice.” Lien shook his head with a rueful grin. “I can see that much.” He paused. “So what’s your bet, then?” “My bet?” Naying echoed curiously. “Real, or fake?”  “Well,” Naying said. “It’s probably the same as yours, isn’t it? I’m a fake who is pretending to be the real thing, or I’m the real deal still putting on a facade. Either way, I’m going to fuck things up, aren’t I?” “There’s no odds if they’re in both of our favor,” Lien replied.

[sorreysorren]

the remnants of two old friends

now, you were no longer kids, you hadn't seen each other in years, and he didn't have the means to be a striker anymore.

sae stared at his screen, your name glowing in bold as he watched the last ring go through.

to pick up, or to not pick up.

he supposed it was about time you got word of his presence in japan.

he hadn't been planning on staying long; he'd been planning to renew his passport, but that damned blue lock changed things.

it's not that he didn't want to see you.

he was reluctant to contact you or answer any of your messages.

he wasn't one to think hard about simple actions like answering a message or a call, but he had to think a little longer when it was from you.

you, who miraculously had the same schedule as him in middle school.

you, who'd been to all of his middle school soccer games.

you, who supported his ambition to be a striker.

you, who'd been there when he left for spain.

now, you were no longer kids, you hadn't seen each other in years, and he didn't have the means to be a striker anymore.

all of these things changed.

he was aware he probably changed as a person, and that only meant the same for you. he knew that much, and at least that would never change.

your being corresponded to his.

- - -

the both of you kept in touch when he first left for spain. it started with in-depth conversations about small changes in life without the other, to brief updates, simple good mornings and goodnights, to by the 4th year almost no messages at all.

it's not like either of you had meant to drift apart.

you each believed the other to be at different points in their lives therefore believing that in some way, that unspoken "proportionality" between you was severed.

- - -

he never thought he'd feel this way about you.

no, it wasn't the warm fuzzy feeling that people describe when they talk about someone they love. he, too, knew about this feeling once.

this wasn't even anything near that.

this was dull, bland, and flat. the type of distant feeling one would feel towards a passerby. towards a stranger.

you weren't either of those things.

you weren't.

but maybe now you were.

he stared at his phone, unlocking it.

there were three missed calls from you.

he wondered: did you give up, or would you try again later?

you wondered: will he ignore it, or will he pick up next time?

it wouldn't be until hours later that the two of you make up your minds about each other.

he picked up his phone to call you, and you picked up your phone to text him.

just as you begin typing, your phone rings.

you stare at your screen, sae's name glowing in bold as you slide your screen to pick up.

a/n: TYSM FOR READING i literally almost gave up writing this bc i accidentally got rid of the draft so i had to rewrite everything in one sitting FROM MEMORY.

a BIG thanks to the muppets soundtrack for getting me through this.

taglist: @huaposh @bloodypaintersgf @gigiiiiislife @wishiknewwhatiwasdoingwithmylife @hanmasfavoritegirl @ewlyq @vagueval

I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED EARLIER THAN I MEANT TO. AND I STILL HAD TO EDIT,,, SORRY IF IT TAGGED U MULTIPLE TIMES.

[taradactyls]

A Losing Hand

My Submission for @janeuary-month 2025 Day 11: Card Playing

Mr Darcy is falling in love with Elizabeth Bennet, and he is not best pleased about it.

Mr Darcy's pov of that enlightening card game in Chapter 8 of Pride and Prejudice when they discuss accomplished women.

Darcy could only look at her – the light challenge in her gaze, the slight smile that accompanied it. He could debate with her all day.

Rated G, 2.9k words, Elizabeth Bennet/Fitzwilliam Darcy

Tags: Falling in love and FIGHTING it every step of the way, banter, awkward flirting, unrequited crush, canon compliant, Author researched how to play loo

The banner picture was made by me and posted separately for those who might like to reblog it separately.

Read a snippet of the fic below, or the entire thing on Ao3

A Losing Hand

None of the gentlemen were surprised to discover the drawing room absent of ladies when they quit the dining-parlour – with the sick Miss Bennet upstairs it was only natural Bingley’s sisters and Miss Elizabeth had gone to sit with her. Darcy did not mourn the lack of female companionship, even though it also meant the lack of music. Miss Bingley’s already officious attentions had grown more teasing since he had, perhaps unwisely, mentioned Elizabeth Bennet’s fine eyes, and she was more forceful in her efforts whenever Miss Elizabeth was one of the party. No doubt whatever induced Miss Bingley to act so would only reach greater potency with her actually staying under the same roof.

Perhaps he also needed to be concerned with what would be more potent from proximity.

He could not stop thinking of the fine flush that had been in her cheeks that morning after her walk to Netherfield. How striking she had looked, with her complexion glowing and eyes brightened by the exercise.

“Do you think Miss Bennet is any worse, Darcy?” asked Bingley, calling his friend’s attention back to the present. A fortunate interruption, as far as Darcy was concerned.

“I am sure one of your sisters would have sent word down if she were in any danger,” replied he.

“I wish I could know how she gets on.”

“We shall have fresh intelligence very soon, I imagine.”

“And yet not too soon, I hope! I would not want them to leave Miss Bennet prematurely.”

Mr Hurst here offered his singular contribution to the conversation, asserting that it would be well for at least one of the ladies to return shortly. “We need a fourth for any decent game of cards,” said he.

But, regardless of his brother-in-law’s grumblings, Bingley held off summoning them until the time agreed upon by his sisters: when it came time for the ladies to serve the coffee. Despite himself, Darcy had looked in vain to see if Miss Elizabeth would follow Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley into the room. His disappointment was tempered by his admiration of her devotion to Miss Bennet.

Though initially still grumping from the delay, Mr Hurst was soon mollified by Miss Bingley calling for the card-table not long after her arrival in the room.

“You do not plan to return to Miss Bennet?” said her brother, frowning with concern. “You conveyed that she was still very poorly.”

“Oh! The situation is not so desperate that she needs three handmaidens by her bed. Besides, Mr Darcy hopes for cards, and I cannot be so lax a hostess as to ignore my guests.”

“I said I was not opposed to cards,” Darcy corrected. “I can take up a book if you would prefer to remain with Miss Bennet.”

“She needs rest more than anything, and with Miss Eliza there, anyone else would surely only wear her out further, at this time of the evening.”

Mrs Hurst concurred with her sister, and it was settled.

They had been at loo for quite some time when the drawing room door opened and Miss Elizabeth entered. Darcy unconsciously lowered his cards to watch her approach, though he did not call out a greeting as his friend did.

“And your sister, you left her well, I hope?” added Bingley.

“Perhaps not well,” the lady admitted, “but I had the comfort of seeing her sleep, I thank you.”

Bingley was noticeably relieved to hear it. “Then you must join our game!” he exclaimed.

The way she quickly surveyed the table, and almost holding back a smile, said “I had better not, Jane may need me at any moment and I shall not stay long from her, regardless,” transfixed Darcy more than he would like.

What did that arch look mean? She did not dislike the game – he had observed her happily playing it at Lucas Lodge, laughing brightly throughout much of it. Such an observation may have even influenced his choosing of it when Miss Bingley appealed to him for what he desired to play.

Perhaps they were playing too high? She may not have thought to bring much from Longbourn, and her funds could not but be far less extensive than those present – should he offer to cover her part of the pot? That would be presumptuous, would it not? Perhaps even rude, for drawing attention to her limited funds. Definitely it would imply more than he wanted it to of the weight Miss Elizabeth’s presence and enjoyment held with him.

No, better to say nothing. If the situation did seem too much like she was being excluded Bingley would definitely intervene.

He realised he had been staring at Miss Elizabeth with a frown when her gaze idly caught his and she looked away with a smile.

This was ridiculous of him.

Continue reading here

[jsmelodies]

2024 Fic Writer End of Year Roundup

Thank you for the tags, @popjunkie42 @littedidyouknow @crazy-ache @zencetera

Answer and then tag three or more creators to keep the game going!

(If you're in my answers consider yourself tagged if you'd like to play!!)

1. How many words did you publish on AO3 in 2024?

A nice 86k (I write slowly, y'all)

2. How many fics did you complete this year?

I finished my one multi chapter for Nessian week as well as a bunch of one shots!

3. How many in progress or ongoing fics did you start this year?

...too many. Four, I believe? And one that I may go back to👀

4. What was your favorite thing you wrote?

Definitely The Knight and His Witch! It was fun to escape canon for a bit, and it gave me some worldbuilding practice.

5. What piece was your most experimental or different from your usual style?

Oh that would have to be I'd Go Back to the Winter for @laxibbeb, for a lot of different reasons. I was playing around with a different ship (Elucien!!), and it's probably the wildest idea I've ever come up with.

6. Did any fics surprise you - either while writing or their reception?

The reception for Till the Dawn Breaks genuinely surprised me so much. Mostly because I wrote that within the span of 3-4 days, and wasn't sure if it was that good when I posted it.

And I try my best not to focus on stats, but that fic got so much engagement!

7. Do you have a fic you wrote and loved that went under the radar? (This is your sign to reblog/repost it!)

Yes, if you like Elucien, check out I'd Go Back to the Winter!

8. Who is an artist that inspired you?

So many! @laxibbeb @dustjacketdraws @climbthemountain2020 , and some of @podemechamardek's commissions!

9. Who is an author that inspired you?

@littedidyouknow - thank you for being you (and bullying me into finishing stuff)

Also I fear the 530k words you've written this year (can I steal some please)

10. Who is a new author you discovered?

I love all of you💕 @moodymelanist @c-e-d-dreamer @kale-theteaqueen @xxvalkyriesxx @wishcamper @unhealthyfanobsession @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @dustjacketmusings @underneath-the-sidras

Also @popjunkie42 @beesays @crazy-ache @foundress0fnothing and so many more!

(Technically some of these were late 2023 but I’m counting them)

11. Did you do any collaborations? How did it start?

Not yet!

12. What accomplishments are you proudest of?

Finishing my first multi chapter fic! And also getting involved with the fandom more.

13. What did you learn about writing or creating this year?

I've been working a lot on my descriptions and story telling, and it's been so rewarding getting specific comments about that.

And something I'm still learning - that the story I want to write might not always be the story someone else wants to read, and that's ok.

14. Any advice you’d like to share with new or aspiring writers?

To love your writing, in whatever stage it's at. It's so easy to hate our own work, especially when we first start out.

Sometimes I'll go back and read my old chapters. Is it a little choppy? Do I see now that there was room for it to improve? Yes, of course. And I'm sure I'll think the same a year from now. But our writing all starts somewhere, and my writing wouldn't be where it is now if I didn't keep going.

And that makes those earlier chapters a lot easier to love.

Also, remember this is supposed to be fun!

15. What are your creative goals for 2025?

Nothing specific really, I just want to keep working on the fics I already have going and start the new ones I've been planning for a while.

I also have some original work that's been sitting on the back burner for a while, and I'd love to return to it.

Not tagging anyone else but feel free to join!

[goatunderthebridge]

Pride & Hysterics || aka, what if Fukunaga saw Yamamoto fall?

I have fukutora on the brain and I've gotta sleep. So, enjoy this short (~1700 words) fic idea that is barely edited and has not been read through more than once. bon appetit ‼

Inspired by this post by @anoant-haikyuu-dump .

Quick tags/info: some fukutora, slight kuroken, mostly yamamoto getting into a stupid situation because of pride, fukunaga finding this hilarious, kenma is done with both of them, and kuroo is in love with kenma.

------

The three of them were standing outside the school gates, having finished their evening volleyball practice. Kenma was sitting on the half-wall, hunched over to block the sunlight from obscuring his phone screen as he flicked through a random game. He was waiting for Kuroo to walk home with him, the boy having been caught in a conversation with Nekomata. Kenma didn’t mind. It gave him time to text Hinata about how he had found the new game in their mutually liked series. However, there was one thing that he disliked about waiting for Kuroo after school and the thing manifested itself in the form of his, sigh. Friends.

“I bet I could jump to that cola can,” Kenma hears Yamamoto say to Fukunaga, a tinge of pride in his voice. Already Kenma could tell that this wasn’t going to end well, not when ‘bet’ and Yamamoto’s pride were ever involved.

Unfortunately for both of them, Fukunaga loved hearing those things put together.

Kenma discreetly glances up through his hair just as Fukunaga turns to Yamamoto, eyes shining. The excitement was practically vibrating off of him as he stared at Yamamoto, as if daring him to do it. Kenma shifts slightly in his seat to see what Yamamoto was talking about, leaning forwards past their backs to see a discarded coca cola can on the pavement around 20 feet away from them. Kenma immediately groans but mentally berates himself for it when two pairs of shining eyes look at him.

“What?” Yamamoto roars, puffing out his chest to Kenma as he stands squarely in front of him, “You don’t think I can do it?”

Kenma rolls his eyes as he looks up at him, hair falling away from his face. “I didn’t say that…”

“But you were thinking it!” Yamamoto says, crossing his arms in front of him.

“No…”

“Well, I’m going to prove you wrong!” Yamamoto announces triumphantly, placing his hands on his hips as he nods to himself, as if affirming the belief that he could somehow jump as far as to that red, crumpled can and all he needed was one disbeliever to motivate him to do it.

Kenma sighs. He hated always being the disbeliever that Yamamoto goaded into motivating him.

Fukunaga rests his head on Yamamoto’s shoulder, peering over him to Kenma. Yamamoto freezes slightly at the touch. It’s almost interesting to Kenma, the way he didn’t even seem to be breathing, if not for the distracting fact that Fukunaga was smiling widely.

“Tigers can leap when pigs fly.” He teases, earning a surprised snort from Kenma.

Yamamoto starts at that, rocking Fukunaga off of his shoulder and spinning to face him with a pointed finger, exclaiming loudly, “I’ll show both of you!”

Fukunaga toes a line in the dust between them – a starting line, it dawned on Yamamoto and Kenma – before he drops into a seat next to Kenma on the wall, folding his hands in his lap. He looks up at Yamamoto expectantly with his wide eyes.

Kenma sighs. This was not going to end well. They’d gotten his pride too involved.

Yamamoto grunts at both of them sitting down and awaiting his spectacular jump. He turns to face his rival – the red can ahead – and judges the distance by eye more thoroughly now. He blinked. It was a long distance to jump, very long, and it almost made his self-confidence falter. But the pride coiling within his chest tightened around his heart and it was then his resolve was fortified. He could make that jump. He was Yamamoto Taketora, for fuck’s sake!

With that, he takes a few step behind him from the starting line, keeping his eyes locked on the red can ahead. All he had to do was gain enough momentum and jump. He could do that, he had the guts. Truly, how hard could it be to do something as simple as jumping?!

Yamamoto takes a deep breath, clenches his hands into fists, and yells as he runs, passing the wide-eyed Fukunaga and disappointed Kenma who watched him with turning heads like spectators to a tennis match. Yamamoto jumps from the starting line, his feet making a loud ‘thud’ as he sprang off of it. And to his credit, he does actually leap, spreading his legs far in the air as he soared. Fukunaga’s mouth opens slightly as Kenma’s eyebrows furrow in disbelief. Yamamoto was actually going to do it. He was using his pride to dismantle the very laws of gravity.

Yamamoto felt weightless. Time seemed to slow down since he had jumped, his legs stretched as far as they would go in perpendicular directions to his body, his arms locked in to his sides like a Super Mario character jumping in those games Kenma liked and beat his ass at every time. He turned his head slightly, catching the surprise on Fukunaga’s face as he flew through the air nearer and nearer to the red can. He felt his ears twinge red as he grinned, slowly.

But then time sped back up and he was dropping to the ground. Yamamoto braced himself for his right foot to hit the ground first, leaning his weight forward. But he noticed his foot continuing to soar past the red can and instantly cheered for himself, yelling so excitedly that he hardly noticed where his foot was landing.

Fukunaga stood up as Yamamoto dropped to the ground and immediately slipped on a banana peel.

His foot slid on it, making him screech like some deranged beast as his body pelters backwards at the momentum with which his body came crashing down to the ground. He falls down, hitting his head on the red can and his back on the pavement loudly, instantly groaning at the fall. Kenma stands up with his phone gripped tightly in his hands, unsure whether to check if Yamamoto was okay or if they should call someone. He looks to Fukunaga to see what they should do and he stills in movements.

Fukunaga’s face was red and contorted in silent laughter. He was gripping his sides with his mouth wide open and his body shaking with his laughing fit. Kenma almost took a step back in shock if it wasn’t for the high-pitched peals of laughter that managed to escape Fukunaga that knocked him back down onto the wall instead. The laughter stole Yamamoto’s attention as he sat up with a groan and looked to the duo, rubbing the back of his head. He froze again when he saw Fukunaga howling with laughter, doubled over now, the laughter filling the air. It struck Yamamoto as he watched in silent shock that he had never heard Fukunaga laugh like that before. He had never seen how Fukunaga’s entire face relaxed as he laughed, nor how pink his cheeks got or how he threw his head back to the sky as if he couldn’t help but let everything within him be entirely moved by the hilarity before him.

And the laughter, Yamamoto had never heard anything like it. It sounded like a mixture of shrieks and gasps and an endless stream of barking laughter as Fukunaga dropped to his knees before shoving a hand to his mouth, desperately stopping his laughter from escaping him as he bowed his head, his body still wracking with silent giggles. Kenma met Yamamoto’s eyes over Fukunaga’s head and it was easy for them to communicate in that moment the single thought passing through both of them:

What the fuck was that?

As Yamamoto stepped towards them, Fukunaga wiped at his eyes and stood back up, mostly composed once Yamamoto was closer to them.

“Are you alright?” Kenma asked, noticing the way it seemed to take actual effort for Yamamoto to drag his eyes off of Fukunaga to look at him.

Yamamoto nodded, rubbing the back of his head still, “Y-yeah. I’m… fine.”

Kenma arched an eyebrow at the redness creeping on to Yamamoto’s face as Fukunaga turned to him and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Mr Banana Peel, huh?” Fukunaga barely managed to squeak out before laughing again, body shuddering under it as he laughed into his shoulder, hand squeezing Yamamoto’s shoulder.

It was infectious, then. Kenma snorted, instantly turning his head away from the glare Yamamoto sent him. That seemed to shake Yamamoto out from whatever spell Fukunaga’s laughter had on him because he was suddenly roaring.

“HOW COULD I HAVE KNOWN IT WAS THERE!? I STILL WON! STOP LAUGHING AT ME!”

It just made Fukunaga laugh harder, dropping back down to his knees and dragging his hand down Yamamoto weakly as he goes, barely able to breathe. Kenma can’t help the laughter that escapes him as Yamamoto goes fully red and practically slams his own face into his hands, yelling incoherently.

“Whoa, what the hell is going on here?” A curious yet amused voice calls out to them.

Kenma turns to see Kuroo strolling towards them, his satchel slung around his shoulder. Kuroo glances at Kenma’s glistening eyes, Fukunaga bent over with laughter on the floor, and a Yamamoto who refused to look at him, instead choosing to cross his arms over his chest and turn his head away from the rest of them.

Kuroo slings an arm over Kenma’s shoulder as he plops down next to him on the wall.

“So?” He asks, looking between the three of them.

It’s Fukunaga who glances up at Kuroo with tears in his eyes, still clutching his sides.

“Tora- Tora is going to quit volleyball,” he says, gasping it out as he slows his laughter.

This makes Kuroo a bit more serious as he furrows his eyebrows at Fukunaga. Kenma bites his lip and turns his face into Kuroo’s chest, preparing himself. But Yamamoto turns to Fukunaga, confusion crossing his face.

“What?” They both say, glancing at each other before back at Fukunaga.

Fukunaga takes a breath, and risks a look up at Yamamoto. A snort escapes him.

“He’s studying to be a clown.”

And then he’s stifling his laughter again into his own hands as Yamamoto reddens and kneels next to Fukunaga, balling his shirt within his fists as he jostles him, half out of anger and half because Fukunaga’s laughter made his intestines curl inside of him and it felt weird because he wanted more of it.

Kuroo watches this display with a raised eyebrow, knowing he’s missing something but equally certain he’d be getting no answers out of the duo before him. He lets Kenma take his attention instead, feeling Kenma curl in closer under his arm, his body shaking with laughter. Kuroo smiles at that and rests his head on Kenma’s, turning to watch Yamamoto shake Fukunaga before him.

God, who knew when the three of them had gotten so close?

[whalyrae]

THE OLD GUARD - CHAPTER 3

"We don’t get a say on how it ends, we never have. But we can control how we live."

Summary : You are a powerful witch, cursed and hurt through ages. Owner of your esoteric shop, you were resigned to live this lonely life when the powerful magic of soulmates and fate came to you.

Pairing : poly BTS x reader (she/her)

Genre : soulmate au, demons bts au, witch y/n au, fluff, angst, eventual smut, polyamory relationships

Status : In process

Word Count : 4.5K

Warnings : eventual smut, angst, mention of depression, death, suicide, past trauma, violence, blood, past (sexual) abuse, past torture, PTSD, scars, self harm, and more.

Tag list : @blackrockshooter780 @babyymeme @starrlo0ver @suckerforv @mushroom-main @m1sss1mp @prettydancingdamzel @i-have-no-life-charlie @avadakadabra93 @veronawrites @kawaiikpoplover268 @didi-9310 @ghostlyworld @carolinexkpop @gooooomz @00ihatesnaku

A/N : HEY YO I'M BACK !! Okay, I'm really sorry it took so long to publish the chapter... my exams, and after that I took a long rest because I travel in Spain and then in Paris during a whole month ! So as an apologize, this chapter is hella long I think it's the longest I've ever wrote in my life jfdkljgfk... I hope you'll like it !

Feel free to comment or send me a message (anonymously or not!) and give me your reactions, your impressions, your questions… I don't mind at all, on the contrary!

In the next chapters, there will be revelations, and answers to questions hehe so please don't hate me too much…!

A BIG THANK YOU again for all these views, I thought that by being absent for so long, my writings would be forgotten … but not at all!

Enjoy your reading, and thanks again, take care, I love you ♥

OH BY THE WAY !! I made a spotify playlist ! If you have any songs who made you think about the story, you can share it to me and I'll add it on the playlist !

Here is the link : The Old Guard Playlist

ps : sorry for the mistakes, it's already 1am here, but I really REALLY need to post something..... ENJOY :D

Masterlist | ao3 | wattpad

Chapter 2 // Chapter 4

☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ 

“I did it! I beat Ganon! Did you see, Jimin ?”

Jungkook put down his controller next to him on the couch, raising his arms with a big smile. Beside him, Jimin didn't seem to pay attention to him. His eyes focused on his cell phone. 

Jungkook frowned, and turned to Taehyung, sitting on his right. 

"Taehyung, Taehyung! Look!!!"

But he noticed that Taehyung also seemed lost in thought and was not paying any attention to him. 

Jungkook puffed out his cheeks, a pout on his face. 

"Hyungs! What's going on?”

“Do you know where Yoongi is? " 

Taehyung's question surprised Jungkook. He arched an eyebrow and thought for a few seconds. 

He knew that Namjoon and Hoseok had gone to the public library for some research, but he couldn't remember which. Jin had gone to the grocery store. 

And Yoongi... well, he didn't remember seeing him or even remembering him leaving the apartment. 

"He's been missing for a while, he doesn't answer when I try to call him..." Jimin sighed as he threw his phone down next to him. 

They remained silent for a few seconds, while the game on the television continued to play its cinematic. 

Jungkook turned his head and noticed that the window was slightly open. He pointed at it with his chin to his partners. 

The three demons then glanced at each other. They figured it out. They knew where Yoongi had gone.  

"You think he went..." began Jungkook. 

"I wouldn't even be surprised, he was very quiet yesterday after Namjoon’s explanations." Jimin continued.

And they all knew that at those times, it meant that Yoongi had something on his mind. And when he did, he became the most stubborn person alive. Nothing and no one could make him change his mind. 

"That guy... Ah, when he gets home, he'll hear me." Taehyung sighed and ran a hand through his hair. 

Jungkook jumped to his feet. 

"Are you going to wait quietly for him to come back?" He asked, crossing his arms before straightening up from the couch. "Because I'm not. We've been waiting for this moment for way too long." 

°°°

Yoongi was… well she couldn’t describe him. His voice was sweet, his little vibrato always made her body shiver a little. Besides, he was so kind, so gentle, she had never seen so much tenderness in a gaze that was destined to her. 

Well, of course, there was Jin. But that was so, so long ago. 

She bit her lower lip nervously. Thinking about him made her heart ache. She was close to him like she never was since the two of them were separated, yet so far at the same time. She still hadn't thought about how she would manage it. She'd never figured out how to get his memory back, and she’d never found him at all to try anything though. 

At first, she had planned to spend the afternoon with her books, researching curses, spells, or some kind of memory-related magic. She wanted to have some sort of plan before she tried any approach with her soulmates. 

But it seems that one of them decided otherwise. 

Yoongi never took his eyes off her. She seemed to be lost in her thoughts for some reason, probably his visit disturbed her. 

He couldn't read her mind, she was probably powerful enough to block her mind to telepaths, as he and his demon boyfriends were. His admiration for her only grew stronger and stronger. 

He wanted to know what was happening in her head, what seemed to be troubling her. 

From the moment he saw her through her shop window in his cat form, busy watering her plants when he saw the lines on her face when he realized he was standing in front of his last soulmate, the world stopped in front of him for a moment. 

Just as he felt when he met Namjoon, Jin, Hoseok, Jungkook, Jimin, and Taehyung. That feeling of being face to face with someone he'd known all his life, even though he'd never spoken to them, someone who completed him, who finally made him feel whole and fulfilled. 

A soul mate, pure and simple. 

She felt the same way. Like the day before with Namjoon, and when she was with Jin before they separated. However, she wasn't used to experiencing... so many positive feelings and emotions like that.  

She'd also thought that Namjoon would never talk about her or want to see her again. 

Apparently, she was wrong. 

She fidgeted nervously with her fingers, keeping a certain distance between them. She wanted to ask Yoongi where the others lived, to meet them, and finally see Jin again after all these years.

But the problem was that Jin didn't remember her. And when Namjoon, Yoongi, and the others hear about what happened, they probably wouldn't want anything more to do with her. And that was what she was afraid of. 

The pain of losing a soul mate is a sharp pain, like having her heart ripped out, without any anesthetic, raw. 

She met people who had been rejected by their soulmates, or who had experienced the death of their soulmates. They were a shadow of their former selves, and remained so for the rest of their lives, until their last breath. Most of the time, they ended up taking their own lives, the latter being a gentler and more bearable solution than living without one or both halves. 

She'd been through it once, with Seokjin. If she hadn't been immortal, she wouldn't have survived it. 

"I don't know what's been going through your head, or what you've been going through all these years alone," Yoongi began, taking a step towards her, "but it's all over now. I mean, you're not alone anymore, not now that we've found you. You should have seen Namjoon when he came home yesterday, I haven't seen him this excited since we met Jungkook decades ago." He let out a chuckle. 

She looked up at him, he was close to her, very close. 

If he knew, he wouldn't say that. Even though she couldn't deny that those words warmed her whole being without really controlling it. So, Namjoon was happy to meet her? Were they all? 

"You really thought Namjoon wouldn't tell us about you and we wouldn't want you?" He asked, tilting his head to one side. 

"Honestly, yes." she admitted with a shrug, smiling shyly, "I'm... old, very old, I spent several centuries alone, never finding my soulmates so... I always told myself that they weren't looking for me, or simply didn't want me."

And the only one I ever knew, I lost him, she thought.

"Oh, sweetheart," he murmured, his deep, soft voice making her shiver, "I'm sorry it took me so long to find you, we all are, believe me."

He raised his hand, without hesitation, to place it gently on her cheek. Normally, she wasn’t the most comfortable with physical touch, but strangely, she hadn't flinched, she hadn't moved. The warmth of Yoongi's hand against her skin felt good and soothing in a way she couldn't describe a comfort she hadn't felt... for ages. 

She surprised herself leaning slightly against it, even closing her eyes when he started to rub softly her cheek with his thumb. 

She opened her lips to reply but heard something behind Yoongi that made her take a step back. She heard the bell of her shop signifying that someone was entering.

"I knew it!" she heard a deep voice approach them, "I knew you wouldn't listen to Namjoon hyung!"

She tilted her head as Yoongi turned his, not disturbed by the interruption. She was surprised to find herself facing three new people. She didn't need to ask who they were, nor she didn't need to ask Yoongi who these three beautiful and handsome men standing in front of her were. 

When her eyes met those of the smallest of the three, while the other two were talking to Yoongi, she didn't even know about what because she wasn't paying any attention. Her gaze was completely absorbed by this pink-haired person standing a few meters away from her. She was feeling for the second time today what she had felt earlier with Yoongi.

These three people were part of their bond. They were their soulmates too. 

One of the other two noticed the smaller boy's attitude and turned toward him. 

"Jimin, are you..." he began, turning his head to follow his gaze, "Okay..."

His voice trailed off when he saw her.

She didn't know what to say or do, she could feel four pairs of eyes on her now. 

She noticed a smile tugging at the corner of Yoongi's lips and she bites her own nervously. 

He knew that the maknaes would notice his absence, and would quickly realize where he was and, most importantly, that they would come to her. 

"Are you..." the smaller one, Jimin, whispered in a trembling voice, taking a step towards her. 

"Yes... Yes, I am." she replied, looking away, "It's a pleasure to meet y-ah...!"

She hadn't had time to finish her sentence when she felt a pair of arms around her waist and a body pressing against hers. She looked down, surprised to see a pink ball, slightly trembling. 

"We've been waiting for you for so long..." he murmured shakily. 

She felt her head spin slightly under all these new sensations, not so new, but ones she hadn't felt for ages. It was as if she was rediscovering them.

She didn't know how to react and didn't have time to think about it when she felt two new pairs of arms around her waist. 

"Jimin, don't monopolize her yet!" a young man with blue hair sulked, "Ah, I can't tell you how happy I am to finally meet you... Can I call you Noona?"

She didn't know what to say and didn't have time to think about it either.

"Noona," the tallest of the three murmured as he hugged her a little tighter, "I can't believe I can finally hold you... You’re real...!"

She was surprised to see Jimin sobbing quietly in her arms. She looked up, utterly confused, and searched for Yoongi, who was standing not far from her, his hand resting on Jimin's back, stroking him affectionately as he looked at her. He gave her a gentle smile and shrugged. 

"They are our maknaes, Jimin," he pointed to the pink-haired one, "Taehyung," he pointed to the blue-haired one, "and Jugkook, the youngest." He finished by pointing to the last one, who was looking at her with shining eyes.

“Noona, you’re so gorgeous,” Jungkook said, making her blush furiously. 

“Kook’… you're making her uncomfortable," Yoongi grumbled as he brought his hand up to stroke Jimin's hair. 

"I'm not... thank you..." she smiled as she saw Jungkook's face light up, then looked down at Jimin, "Is he all right?" she asked, worried to see him in such a state. 

"Don't worry about him," Taehyung caught her eye and gave her a big smile, "he's very sensitive and just happy to finally find you."

"And we've been waiting for you... "Jungkook continued before letting out a shy little laugh, "Ah, you must have heard it lots of times since yesterday but... It's true... we've been looking for you for years, without success..."

"We've all always had that hole in our hearts..." Jimin spoke again, raising his head, his eyes bright and slightly red, "It was painful sometimes when all that was missing for us was you, I don't even want to imagine how you must have felt without any of us..."

She didn't even notice that tears had started to fall as they spoke. She wasn't the kind of person who cried easily, far from it. But in less than two days, this was already the second time it had happened.

She didn't know why she was so moved by their words, perhaps because they were the people she'd been looking for all her long life, never finding, thinking they didn't want her, which turned out to be wrong. 

She could feel the deep empathy in their words because they'd been through the same thing as her - less so because they were all together - she felt understood by the people who were meant for her, and that feeling was indescribable. 

Noticing her tears, the three maknaes backed away slightly but stayed close to her. 

"Noona I... we're sorry if we said something hurtful..." murmured Jimin nervously. 

"No, I'm the one who's sorry," she replied, shaking her head, "I'm just... I don't know, it all seems so unrealistic..."

And it still was. Knowing that she found her soulmates, that Jin was only a few miles away... After all those years of loneliness, of feeling guilty, of secretly envying the people who crossed her path, happy with their soul mates...

She thought back to Minji's words, yesterday’s evening in their apartment...

« You deserve it more than anyone else. You spent your whole life helping anyone who asks for help, sacrificing your life more than once - literally - for the helping and saving. You deserve to be happy, with those who are destined for you. »

The thought of those words made her tears double. Because after all these years, centuries even, in darkness, the light was finally coming to her, the hope of a more bearable and less lonely eternity was growing inside her.  

“Hey, sweetheart, please don’t cry,” Yoongi’s sweet voice brought her out of her thoughts, “You’re prettier when you smile.” 

She blinked several times and looked at each of the people around her. 

There they were, her soul mates. 

“Ah, I think Namjoon hyung and Hoseok hyung are back home," suddenly muttered Taehyung, who had his phone in his hand, "They want to know where we are..."

"I think we're in a bit of a mess..." chuckled Jungkook, resting his cheek against her shoulder. "Oh, you don't know Hobi hyung yet!"

"Same for Jin, I think we're going to have a bad time when we get home... they're going to be even more jealous!" added Jimin with a small smile.

Her eyes had widened when he'd mentioned Jin's name. He was with them. There was no doubt about it now. The confirmation twisted her stomach slightly with anticipation and excitement. 

Jin was alive. He was in the same town as her after... over five hundred years apart. She didn't know how to deal with it all, again, it all seemed so unrealistic. She felt like she was in a dream, that she'd wake up sooner or later, and that everything she was experiencing now was an illusion. 

If this was indeed a dream, she hoped she'd never wake up.

"I have an idea! Why don't you come with us?"

She lowered her head at Jimin's question. This was something she hadn't expected. 

"So you can meet them too and see Namjoon again! Good idea, Minnie!" Taehyung came and hugged his partner, kissing his cheek affectionately. 

Jimin giggled in Taehyung's arms, making her smile. But the idea of finding herself in the same room as not just one, but all her soul mates. Seeing Jin again, without the certainty that he'd regained his memory... If they found out the truth, what had happened, she'd lose them for sure.

Selfishly, she didn't want that to happen. She wanted to see Jin again, of course. It was all she could think about, constantly, ever since they both split up. But the risk was too big now. She wanted to come to him with a plan, a way of getting his memory back if he hadn't. She owed him that.

"I know we're all more than happy to find her finally," Yoongi began, "but our beautiful soulmate can't just walk away from her business, can she?"

"But Yoongi hyung... I don't want to leave her..." pouted Jungkook, rubbing his cheek against her shoulder.

"I know Kookie, me neither," Yoongi sighed softly, understanding with Jungkook because he too didn't want to part with her, "but I think she needs some time to herself, to get over her emotions, am I right?"

He looked at her, his lips stretching slightly into a thin smile. She could see in his eyes that he wasn't reproaching her and that he was also prepared to stay if she asked him to. Every one of them was ready to go and get the moon for her if she asked them to.

"I understand... it must have been a lot of emotions for you..." Taehyung sighed sadly as he pulled away from Jimin, "So can we give you our phone number? And we'll give you our address too!"

"Good idea!" Jimin exclaimed and snapped his fingers to summon a piece of paper and a pen, " So you can come and see us whenever you like! Usually, there's always someone at home, but if there isn't, we'll give you the code, and you can just make yourself at home and wait for us!"

"Deal," she replied as Jimin wrote their numbers and addresses on the sheet of paper, "and you, feel free to come here, whenever you like, my apartment's upstairs, but I suppose you already know that..."

"What was I saying, she's extremely intelligent, our soulmate, as well as being beautiful," Yoongi smirked, making her blush.

"Aaah, I don't want to leave you, Noona..." Jungkook whined, grabbing her arm, "You smell so good too..."

YoShe u held back a smile, feeling a slight pinch in her heart.

She didn't want them to leave either.

°°°

“You did what ?!”

Sitting on the sofa, Yoongi chuckled as the three maknae shrugged their shoulders at Hoseok, Seokjin, and Namjoon. Namjoon had his arms crossed against his chest, his eyebrows furrowed, while his two companions beside him looked desperate but amused at the same time. 

"You're incapable of listening to a tiny indication, are you..." Namjoon blurted out accusingly, "I hope you haven't scared her..."

"Knowing these three," began Hoseok, addressing the maknae, "they would have been able to jump on her..."

Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook glanced at each other. Without needing to reply, Jin's eyes widened. 

"You jumped on her..." It wasn't a question, but a statement. 

"I... I wouldn't go to the extreme of using the word jump Jin hyung..." defended Jungkook with a pout, "and then... it was Jimin who clung to her first and cried like a baby !"

The said Jimin turned to his boyfriend, outraged and betrayed. 

"At least I didn't make her feel uncomfortable by showering her with compliments! "Oh noona, you're so beautiful, you're so intelligent noona!" cried Jimin, pointing his finger at Jungkook, who was frowning, and Yoongi, who wasn't paying any attention to the conversation.

Hoseok and Jin couldn't help laughing as they watched their younger partners bickering, while Namjoon rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. He should have known that his partners wouldn't listen to him and would go and find her the second his back was turned. He wasn't that angry with them, he understood them. From the second they'd said goodbye the day before, all he could think about was seeing her again. Yoongi was the most stubborn and obstinate of them all, and if the maknaes were by nature very impatient, he was even more so. 

He couldn't blame them, she was their soul mate just as she was his. And even if a reason they didn't know existed had darkened her heart and saddened her soul, she could not want to have something to do with them. She just couldn't. 

His four companions had only listened to their hearts.

"Did it at least go well?" finally asked Hoseok, who had settled on the floor, facing the maknaes, "how is she?"

"She's incredible hyung!" exclaimed Taehyung, "She's beautiful and her voice is so sweet..."

"Aaah, I miss her," Jimin added as he dropped onto Taehyung, "we shouldn't have left..." 

Hoseok chuckled and turned to Jin. 

"That means we're the last ones who didn't meet her, ah, that's not fair... Jin, are you all right?"

They all turned to the older man who had sat on the edge of the large sofa. He was staring into space, his face disfigured by pain. 

Yoongi was the first to react and got up to approach his elder. 

"Hyung, is it the same as yesterday?"

Jin took his head in his hands, nodding. He didn't understand why these violent migraines were suddenly coming to him, and more importantly, why he was now having these flashes and memories that weren't his own. 

Or were they? He had no memory of living in a human village with a hill and a big oak tree. And who was this person he was with? He couldn't see their face correctly, it was blurred, like everything that had happened since yesterday. 

"What's wrong with him, Yoongi?" asked Namjoon, concerned. 

"He's never been like this..." Jungkook sat down next to him, also worried.  

Yoongi told them about yesterday's episode in the kitchen, which made Jin wince, not wanting to bother them with it. 

"It's nothing," Jin muttered after a few seconds massaging his temples, "It's just tiredness I guess."

He wouldn't talk about the memories flooding his mind. He didn't want to worry them anymore. He'd look for the answers himself. 

"Hyung you've been very tired before, you've never had this kind of response..." replied Jimin who had gone into the kitchen to get him a glass of water. 

"He's right, maybe it's a problem with your powers? Or... argh, I don't know." Taehyung grumbled in frustration. 

"It'll be fine," Jin reassured him with a small smile, "I'll get some rest, and everything will be better tomorrow. But I will remember that you met our soulmate and Hobi and I are the only ones who don't know her."

He chuckled when he saw the innocent looks on the maknae’s faces and ruffled Yoongi's hair to reassure him. 

"If it happens again, you won't be able to escape," Yoongi replied simply, rising to his feet. 

He said nothing, but when his gaze met Namjoon's, the two demons understood each other. Jin's condition coincided strangely with the meeting of their last soulmate.

Pure coïncidence? Or was there a link between her and Jin's condition?

°°°

Every day there was an outdoor market in Seoul. She used to go there regularly to find various types of plants for her potions, spells, and other magical preparations. But also, fruit and vegetables for her personal use.

This time, Handong has decided to come with her. She closed her shop for the morning and set off in the early hours. 

She looked up at the sky and spotted the moon, gradually disappearing to make way for the sun. The full moon was for tonight. 

She knew that the moon was a very powerful force for witches. It was also that moment when she recharged her crystals and prepared her moon water for the month. 

But above all, the full moon influenced her powers. It was the best time to cast powerful spells and make sure they worked. It was therefore the perfect opportunity to find any spell that would help Jin recover his memory. 

The day before, after Yoongi, Jungkook, Taehyung, and Jimin had left, and after spending a good hour recovering from her emotions, she went back to combing through every magic book and grimoire she owned, whether in the bookshop or her personal library.

She hadn't found anything very conclusive. All the chapters on memory magic had one thing in common: the spells, their effects, and their duration always depended on who was casting them and who was being affected by them. 

The spell cast on Jin could have disappeared, just as it could still be present. She could only know this by seeing him and talking to him. But even that was a tricky thing to do. 

"Is everything all right, sweetie?" Handong asked in a soft voice, after noticing that she’d been quiet for a while now. 

"Hm?" she turned her head towards her, before smiling and nodding, "Yes, of course! sorry I... I was thinking about my research last night."

"Don't apologize," Handong smiled at her, "It's perfectly understandable. Don't hesitate if you need advice, I'm not a specialist, but I'll gladly give you my opinion."

She nodded again and explained what she’d found. Her different ideas, but they all came down to a single point. She had to see Jin to find out about his condition and memory. And that was where she was stuck. 

During her explanations and conversation, she had arrived at the market, and without stopping to talk, she looked at the different stalls, buying some fruit and vegetables from old ladies. 

In the distance, she notices a stall selling papaya. She hadn't seen or eaten papaya for a long time. It was also Jin's favorite fruit. 

Handong was busy with a merchant, so she waved back and headed towards the stall. She greeted the old woman manning the stall and looked carefully at the fruit on display. 

As she reached out to take one, she saw an arm in her field of vision landing on the same papaya as her. Surprised, she turned her head mechanically to see who it was, before freezing, her eyes wide. 

No, it couldn't be true. 

She had to be hallucinating, it couldn't... be him. 

And yet she could recognize that face, those features above all others.

Jin. 

Kim Seokjin was standing in front of her. 

°°°

"By the way hyung, why were you and Joonie at the library yesterday?" 

Jimin was currently sitting on a stool, watching Hoseok who was busy preparing lunch while Jin was away. 

"Namjoon wanted to research our soulmate," he explained as he chopped some onions, "At first I didn't understand why honestly, but you know, over time, you and I know very well that Namjoon's instincts are never wrong."

"Does that mean you've found something?" exclaimed Jimin, suddenly straightening up. 

Hoseok nodded, now working on dicing the vegetables. What they had found in the library... he could still hardly believe it. 

Should he tell Jimin? Or should he wait until they are all together to share the results of their research? 

He didn't have time to think about it any longer. He heard a loud knock, startling Jimin. It wasn't long before Yoongi and Jungkook emerged from their room, also startled. 

"What's going on here?" Asked the older one, "I don't suppose we were expecting company?"

"Maybe it's Jin who's back and his arms are too full to open the door!" Jungkook added, tilting his head to one side. I'll get the door!"

He trotted to the door, dressed in a long sweatshirt belonging to Namjoon, who was still asleep in the room, just like Taehyung. 

He opened the door with a big smile on his face. 

"Hi! What took you so long Jin hyun..."

He didn't finish his sentence. His voice faded as he saw what was standing in front of him. At his silence, Yoongi and Jimin joined him, themselves freezing in front of what was in front of them. 

Y/n was standing in front of them, totally panicked, out of breath, and sweating. 

But she wasn’t alone. 

"Help me... please..." she begged, her voice breaking. They could see she was holding back tears. 

She was supporting Jin, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. A completely unconscious Jin.