#i will admit i need to see him less like this

[prisjean]

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ "MINE"

possessive! caleb x fem! reader

synopsis₍ ᐢ.ˬ.ᐢ₎˚୨୧: an au where you & caleb are farspace officers. the weekly meeting was finished... but after basically knowing caleb your whole life, you notice his mood has changed after him assuming, you paid all your attention to the lieutenant colonel (2.1k words!)

tw: MDNI +18, NSFW, rough sex, jealous sex, unprotected sex (pls use protection), caleb is possessive, dirty talk, spanking, he has you in a headlock, cumming inside

a/n ✧: caleb is releasing tomorrow and im so excited! i hope everyone who pulls him, brings him home! wanted to release this before he releases so im so sorry if this felt fast! also thank you to @tbaluver for giving me a little help with writing this!

caleb's office was always used for meetings. he would talk about the assignments he would give out and the expectations. it was only the officers of the farspace fleet that attended these meetings. caleb, the colonel, sebastian, the lieutenant colonel, and finally, you as a lieutenant.

the meeting was just about done, but caleb’s office felt heavier than usual, the air thick with something unspoken. you had barely stood up from your seat when you noticed the way he was sitting, his jaw tight, his hand grip on his pen as he started working as soon as sebastian left, eyes sharp and locked onto the report he had, trying to ease himself.

you raised an eyebrow, shifting your weight. “okay, what’s with the look?”

caleb leaned back in his chair, now looking at you. he fidgeted with the pen, clicking it slowly. “you know exactly what, pipsqueak” he said, voice low but toned with something simmering just beneath the surface.

your confusion must have shown because he let out a short, humorless laugh. “don't play dumb,” he muttered, tilting his head slightly. “saw the way you were looking at him.”

your brows furrowed. “sebastian?”

caleb’s eyes darkened, and he stood, stepping around the desk toward you. “yeah, sebastian. you couldn’t take your eyes off him.”

the realization hit, and you rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a smile. “seriously? caleb, i was just being polite. i wasn't—”

his hand caught your wrist gently but firmly, pulling you closer. “polite?” he echoed, his voice lower and raising his eyebrows. “seemed like more than that.”

you felt your heartbeat quicken as his fingers trailed slowly up your arm, his touch familiar, possessive in a way that made your skin tingle in a good way. “you’re ridiculous,” you chuckled.

caleb hummed, leaning in, his lips barely brushing your ear. “maybe,” he murmured, “but i don’t like sharing your attention.” he finally admits.

heat rolled on your cheeks as his hand slid to your waist, pulling you flush against him. the space between you disappeared in an instant with his touch being firm and full of determination. less out of anger and more out of a deep, unshakable need. you could feel the weight of his jealousy, not in harsh words or frustration, but in the way his fingers pressed into your skin, like he had to hook you to him, to remind himself that you were his and no one else's. you yearned for this touch as much as he did for yours. seeing him be so jealous over another guy that you don't think of in that way, turned you on.

"sebastian could never make you feel the way i do", he whispers. his breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

your lips parted slightly, but before you could respond, caleb’s grip tightened at your waist, his other hand coming up to cradle the back of your neck, forcing you to look up at him. his eyes staring into yours, filled with something feral, something that made your knees weak.

“i don't even have to try,” he continued, his voice laced with an edge of arrogance, his fingers tracing a slow, delicate path down your spine. “you’re already melting for me.” and it was true, you could tell just how much wet you were getting with the way he was talking to you.

you swallowed hard, your heart racing. “caleb, someone could walk in” you whispered, your tone was weak at this point.

a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, but his grip didn’t change. “and?” he challenged, his voice dangerously low. “you think i would let anyone else have you?"

caleb’s hand slid to your jaw, his thumb brushing over your skin as he tilted your face up to his. he closed the distance between you two.

the kiss came like a storm, powerful and unrelenting. his lips crashed against yours, swallowing any breath you had left, as if he were claiming you in every way possible. his kiss was deep, fighting with tongues and tasting you like he couldn’t get enough.

you felt every ounce of his need, every pulse of his jealousy, as he kissed you harder, almost desperately. it was so intense, the session had you leaning on his cool wooden desk, at least giving you two a little support. his hand at the back of your neck held you in place, as though he feared you'd pull away. you didn’t, though. you melted into him, kissing him back with equal desire, the heat between you rising by the second.

when he finally pulled away, both of you were left breathless, the air between you charged with an electric tension. his eyes gaze into yours, the heat still there, unmistakable, as his lips hovered just above yours.

before you could say another word, he spun you around, pressing your front against the cool, polished surface of his desk. papers scattered to the floor as he pushed you down, his body pressing firmly against yours.

“you really like teasing me, don’t you pipsqueak?” caleb’s voice was low, almost a growl, as he nibbled on your ear, sending a wave of heat through your body. he moved your hair away from the back of your neck to bite you, causing you to wince in pleasure. he took in your scent before planting hickies from behind on your neck. his hands slid down your sides, firmly gripping your hips.

you could feel him harden against you, his breath ragged as his control slipped even further. his voice dropped, dripping with frustration and desire. “you were teasing me with the way you looked at him.. ", he lowly says. "god i just want you for myself..." he groans, still inhaling your smell.

your breath hitched as his grip tightened, pulling you even closer. “i didn’t—”

“don’t,” he interrupted, his voice rough, “don’t even try to deny it.” His hands moved, trailing over your skin with an intensity that left you breathless. his body pressed hard against you. his touch was rougher as if he couldn’t wait any longer.

you bit your lip, feeling the heat between you both intensify.

“you want to know why sebastian could never?” caleb’s voice was right at your ear again. “because he doesn't know you like i do.”

your hands gripped the edge of the desk, your breathing uneven as his every touch igniting sparks under your skin.

“and i’m going to remind you exactly who you belong too.” he muttered, his voice thick with desire. he finishes his statement with a slap on your ass before groping it, leaving you in such a wet mess. at this point you knew he was teasing you just as you did with him, but you were enjoying this.

he sends another slap on your ass before lifting up your skirt and moving your panties to the side. his chest was still pressed against your back with his muscular clothed arms caging you in, then letting his leather gloved finger slide through your drooling cunt. you squirm under his touch.

"gosh.. you stare at him with those pretty eyes but you're fucking soaked for me", you sink under the whispers he tells you. "caleb... please.." you begged me. "i need you now.." you continue begging, practically pressing your ass against his clothed crotch.

“heh..so needy..” he chuckles, having a firm grip on you. “are you sure you can handle your punishment? because i won't be able to hold back,” he breathes against your ear, giving you a chill down your back. 

“yes.. please colonel caleb”, you murmur. you could already feel himself hardened under you after saying his title. 

“that’s a good girl,” he grins before letting your panties fall to ground. you eagerly wait for him as he starts to unbuckle his belt. he unzips, freeing his heavy cock. the tip was already gleaming with leaky pre-cum, begging to discipline you. he presses his cock against your erected pussy, letting your juices lube him up. he makes your body heat up when he gives your clit a few taps before probing at your entrance. you share a loud gasp as you're both intertwined now.

caleb slowly breathes to get him accustomed to your pussy clenching around him. he wanted to cum right then and there but he knew he wasn't done with you. he's been fantasizing about this many too many times and now he was sure as hell not going to waste it.

"fuck, your pussy..mm..is so tight" he breathes. he continues to pump into you. the grip on the table under your palms tighten, he knew just how to hit your pleasure points.

“mm~you think i didn’t notice the way you looked at him?”, he murmured, his voice low, dripping with restrained frustration. “ngh..it doesn't matter.." he mutters, gripping your waist tightly. "because we...both know who you really belong to, don’t we?” he groans as your pussy swells around him.

you kept moaning in replies, you loved the way he was taking his jealousy out on you but you were too into your pleasure to say anything back to him. caleb notices and wraps his muscular arm around your neck, letting your head tilt up a bit while you gasped in surprise.

"say it,” he commanded softly, his tone a dangerous mix of desire and control. “say you’re mine.” saying as he kept his pace. his eyes burned with hunger.

“mmh..i'm yours, caleb" your voice trembling with need.

a satisfied smirk tugged at his lips. “that’s right,” he murmured, the pace of his thrusts picks up. "and 'm..gonna make sure you only look at me from on," he groans as he continues fucking you, letting slaps of skin echo in the room. at this point, his balls clapped against your clit and his tip hitting your spongy g-spot at every thrust.

"ca-caleb.." you wince, "i'm..'m gonna cum!" you whine.

"mm.. that's it, cum on me, pretty girl" he smirks, his pace never faltering. with those words, you ride your orgasm out. your juices spraying on his cock and rides down your thighs, leaving your legs to tremble. "mmm..cumming on me like a slut hm? ngh..'m gonna fill your pussy up, pretty girl" he moans. after a few more trembling thrusts, he lets out a loud groan before letting his warm seed coat your walls. you both pants as he gently unwraps his arm from you and pulls out of you. your pussy drools of him down your thighs.

the air in the room was now thick, it echoed your synced breathing and smelled of the weight of everything that just happened.

"you okay?" caleb asks, his voice husky, still tinged with the remnants of desire. you can tell now his jealousy was slowly melting away. a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he reached up, tucking a sweaty piece of your hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your skin.

"yes, i'm okay" you nodded, your cheeks flush at the heat of the moment. he smiles and without another word, he bends down in front of you, his strong hands gently rolling your panties back onto you. there’s an unmistakable urgency in the way he moves, a reminder that you belong to him in a way no one else can take.

his fingers press against your skin possessively as he slides the fabric back into place, he grins as he sees you still leaking of him and when the fabric is fully adjusted, caleb straightens up, standing in front of you again. he reaches out, his thumb tracing along your lower lip as he steps closer, crowding you with his presence.

"you know, i don’t think they’ll miss the message now," caleb murmurs, his voice low and dark with intent. his hand slides to your waist, pulling you flush against him, the heat of his body making you feel every inch of his desire. "i want them to see who you belong to. i want them to know exactly who’s got you."

you shiver at the words, feeling your pulse race. his lips hover near your ear as he continues, his breath hot against your skin. "i’ll make sure you never forget that you’re mine. no one else gets to have you the way i do. understand?"

you nod, feeling a surge of heat coursing through your body at the raw possessiveness in his words. his lips press against your ear in a gentle kiss, but there’s no mistaking the tension that still lingers in his touch.

"you’re mine," he repeats, a promise and a claim all in one. "and everyone’s gonna know it."

[kumkaniudaku]

Worship

Summary: Patrice needs to know how Terry feels about her changing body.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Mentions of Pregnancy, Smut (18+)

MASTERLIST

“Do you still think I’m pretty?” 

If one question could suck all of the oxygen out of the room and put it all back in a gust of disorienting, bitter wind, that was it. Patrice hadn’t intended her inquiry to be an abrupt interruption to an otherwise calm evening, but she couldn’t allow the thought to torment her any longer. 

Patrice watched Terry from the large mirror in front of them, her bottom lip trapped beneath her top row of teeth while she watched him lean over and spit toothpaste out of his mouth into his sink. Sympathy flashed across his face as he looked back at her. “Of course I do. I think you’re beautiful.” 

“Are you still attracted to me? And not just in theory or what you remember about my body from five months ago. I mean, right now. Pregnant, showing, and all. Am I still sexy to you?”

“Patrice…” 

Closing her eyes, Patrice shook her head and lifted her palm to stop Terry before he jumped into a diatribe for what she considered a cut-and-dry question. “Please, don’t do that, Terrence. Answer me. Do you still see me as a woman worthy of your sexual attention? Yes or no?” 

“Yes, baby. You are.” 

Hearing his answer sent a rush of sadness coursing through Patrice’s veins. She wasn’t sure what she hoped to hear, but that wasn’t it. That only created more uncertainty and a slew of questions she wasn’t sure were still worth asking. Still, she persisted, letting her inquisitive nature take over when she wished she could be quiet and go to bed in blissful ignorance/

“Then why,” A painful lump grew in her throat as tears pricked her waterline. Patrice swallowed it back to try and muscle through her interrogation without allowing her emotions to derail. “Why haven’t you touched me? It’s been three months of nothing. What you’re saying to me doesn’t match your actions.”

Strained silence blanketed the bathroom, competing with the humidity responsible for lingering droplets in the air for which one could douse the embers of reconciliation the fastest. 

Physical and mental changes had thrown Patrice into a loop. Every day, her insides were shifted and stretched to what felt like capacity, bringing a bevy of brand-new feelings that rocked her with every unexpected mood swing. Rays of joy reminded her she’d be meeting a life she helped create intermingled with tormenting thoughts of her attractiveness or lack thereof, keeping her lips glued shut for fear that she’d sound bonkers to her husband. So, she kept them all inside or in the privacy of weekly chats with her girls, hoping the kinks would work themselves out, and they could return to the love she recognized.

“I’m not trying to put the blame on you or me,” she tried to explain when she wasn’t greeted with a response from Terry. “I just…I noticed we’ve slipped away from each other. We barely touch outside of a kiss or a hug. The little comments are gone. We’re flirting less. We haven’t been us, Terrence and Patrice, since we saw this baby on that machine a few months ago, and I’m the only one who seems to notice!” 

He sighed and furrowed his brows. “I notice, Treece. I just…I don’t know. I don’t know what to do or how to be. This is my first time.”

“It’s mine too, Terry! But what does that have to do with who we are! What happens when the baby gets here? Is this going to be our life forever? Is this just it?”

Terry didn’t know what to say. The raging winds of life had blown him to and fro as a husband and father-to-be. Where he thought he was balancing both responsibilities with impeccable efficiency, he missed the signs of his wife’s distress. He couldn’t recount where he went wrong to rectify his misgivings. What’s worse is that he didn’t see an avenue to admit his confusion, fearing he’d sound crass and uncaring in the face of Patrice’s concern. 

So, they stood there in silence, letting unspoken words snuff out the already dying flames of intimacy. 

The stench followed them into a new week marred by disjointed interactions and tight lips. They existed like passing ships in the night, exchanging pleasantries typical of a couple who’d long let go of the rope, not one still possessing the will to fight but lacking the how. 

Sounds of children playing and birds chirping filtered through the open kitchen window as Patrice sat at the kitchen table, clicking through pages and pages of baby items to fill their shower registry. Terry watched her from the entryway, quietly admiring how glistening sun rays gave dimension to her fresh dye job and highlighted glowing skin. Her belly curved beneath one of his long-sleeved t-shirts, clothing her and their heir in his presence even though they were still on the outs. The soft smile gracing her face while she undoubtedly occupied her mind with color schemes and furniture layouts made him grin before he could stop the corners of his lips from creeping upward. 

He missed her. The notion of missing someone he slept next to every night felt as alien as wearing two left shoes, but it was the truth. It was a starting point. And, as long as he had a starting point, he could map his way back to where they belonged. 

“Can I do something for you, Mr. Richmond?” 

Patrice’s question startled Terry out of his thoughts and set him on a path toward the kitchen. “How’d you know I was there?” He asked before stopping short to rest his hand on her upper back. The habit made her lean into his touch and the lingering kiss he held against her temple. 

“Heavy feet, remember?” Their stilted chuckles synced into a familiar cadence, slowly releasing the valve on latent tension. She looked up at him and smiled. “You okay? Need something?” 

“Actually, yeah. Mind if I sit down?” 

“It’s your kitchen table, too. Sit wherever you want.”

Curious eyes under long lashes watched Terry round the table to drag his usual seat closer to hers. An inner battle made him look into the backyard from the window when they locked gazes, biding him time to gather his thoughts until he felt satisfied with their direction. He looked back, bathing her in a soft, doting gaze. “You are unbelievably attractive to me, Treecey. There’s not much you can do to turn me off.” 

“So, what’s stopping you? Is it something I’m doing?” 

“No, no, no,” Terry rushed to reassure, gently placing his palms on her thighs for a squeeze. “Can I be honest?” 

Patrice nodded back at him, praying that what existed on the other side of his extended pause wouldn’t act as a wrecking ball on her wavering self-image. 

Terry scooted closer until Patrice’s knees fit perfectly between his before lacing their fingers together. His eyes didn’t waiver as he spoke the only truth he knew. “I don’t know how to interact with this new version of you. After all these years, you still make me nervous. I was nervous when we started dating again. I was nervous on our wedding night. Now, your body is changing, and I’m more nervous around you than ever,” He admitted. “I’m afraid I might hurt or bother you when you’re tired and trying to catch a break between all you have going on. But, I guess I let being nervous keep compounding until I made you feel like you aren’t the most beautiful woman in the world at all times.”

Patrice’s resolve had long morphed her first dose of hot tears for the day, the sensation coming in so quick that a few slipped past her fingers when she tried to tame them. “Am I, really?” 

Moving forward, Terry brought his hands up to rest on Patrice’s cheeks. “You’re gorgeous to me, baby. I’m so sorry I ever made you think you weren’t.” 

Patrice closed her eyes to feel the feathery caress of lips across her nose and cheeks. He’d run out of words. All he had left was desperate pleas in the form of physical affection to atone for all his sins. 

She accepted each one with no pushback, melting into his touch as the weight of untold battles began sliding down her heavy shoulders.

“It wasn’t just you.” Patrice’s confession came with a deep breath to settle herself. “Every time I step out of the house, someone is commenting on my body or touching me. ‘Oh, you’re carrying high!’ or ‘Girl, you gettin’ big fast!’ It’s too much. I thought I was strong enough to validate myself because that’s what I’ve been doing, you know? But I couldn’t. So, when it felt like you were pushing me away for the one thing I can’t control, I spiraled. I shouldn’t have let it get that far, but I didn’t know how to speak to you without losing my shit. These hormones are kicking my ass.” 

Loud, harmonious laughter meshed to heal aching souls navigating their first storm as parents-to-be. Terry watched Patrice’s face light up like stars over the countryside and smiled as he reached up to dry unshed tears gathered in her eye’s inner corners. “That’s okay. Lose your shit every once in a while. Now’s the perfect time.”

Patrice sighed before reaching for Terry’s wrist to anchor her racing thoughts. Her eyes bore into familiar green pools that always regarded her with love that felt almost too overwhelming to absorb. She watched him mouth a sincere ‘I love you’ that made her skin tingle from head to toe. She gripped him tighter, hoping he could feel the effect he had on her.

“Listen, baby, I’m five months pregnant, not dead,” Patrice laughed, earning a bright smile from Terry. “I still want my husband. I still want to be wanted by you, too. Because your validation means a lot to me. Especially while I’m changing like this.” 

Terry dropped a hand to make space for an incoming round of kisses, each deeper than before. “I want you, Piggy,” he spoke before pressing another kiss to her lips. “I’ll always want you. We’ll be 90 in the nursing home, and I’ll still be chasing behind you with my walker and calling you my girlfriend.”

“Good,” Patrice giggled, tickled by the imagery of a distant version of themselves still head over heels with time winding down on their time together. Static passed between them. Touches became magnified. Pupils dilated with an incoming flood of endorphins. She bit her lip before finishing her thought. “Because if I’m half as horny at 90 as I have been for the last few weeks, we’ll have to keep the nurses on speed dial.” 

“It’s been like that,” Terry questioned, his eyebrow arching.

Patrice moved his hand closer to the meeting of her thighs, hoping he could feel the throb matching her increasing heartbeat. “It’s been like that.”

Terry let his eyes wander across Patrice’s face to linger on her lips before looking back at her with drooping eyelids. His voice emerged from beyond his lips, sounding like hot chocolate on a winter morning. “Let me fix that for you. Show you how much I want you until you tell me to stop?” 

An offer she couldn’t and wouldn’t dare refuse. Permission granted with a short nod and shallow breaths set them on a path down the hallway and into their bedroom, where the sweet symphony of early evening lovemaking was poised to reclaim its space in their lives. 

Patrice lay in wait, lower back and hips lifted off the mattress by a throne of pillows arranged for her comfort near the edge of the bed while she watched Terry arrange scented candles on the dresser in all his naked glory. 

At some point, she’d find time to thump the back of his head for using her expensive stuff to set the mood. But tonight, she chose to focus on the sensual shadows dancing across his body as he stepped between her legs and leaned forward to see her face under dim candlelight.

“Comfortable,” he asked as his hands roamed from her knees to her thighs and back in an effort to soothe his bubbling nerves. “Google says I should have a wedge for you, but I hope that’ll do.” 

Patrice sank deeper into her cocoon and nodded. “This is perfect. I’m okay.” 

“You promise to let me know when you aren’t?” He waited for Patrice to respond verbally in the affirmative before gingerly lifting her right leg to bring her ankle to his lips for a slow kiss. “What’d Mookie say in Do The Right Thing? Thank God for the ankles?” 

He dropped a kiss against her calf before nuzzling the spot. “Thank God for the legs.” He inched further to suckle Patrice’s fleshy inner thigh, drawing a soft sigh from her as a reward for his good deed. “Thank God for these thighs. I love them so much.” 

He set his sights on the swell of her growing belly, rounding day by day with the promise of a little bundle of joy made in their image. He kissed his way past her belly button and up to her breasts, lingering on his name written in slanted script before moving again. “Thank God for the left nipple and the right.”

Patrice let her eyes flutter closed as he directed her hands to the back of his head while expertly pulling one of her nipples between his teeth. Terry lavished each areola with attention from his tongue, letting quiet moans serenade him until he backed off to say more.

“Thank God for all this gorgeous skin.” He rubbed his nose up her sternum into the crook of her neck. “Thank God for the way you smell. Nothing in this world compares to how it drives me crazy.”

Patrice arched into the kisses Terry left along her neck until her core ached for his attention. 

Every sensation, every lick and practiced nibble at the hands of the only man to satisfy the nooks and crannies of her womanhood, and then some felt intensified ten times over.

The second trimester had done a number on her. Her best friends and OBGYN all confirmed that the gnawing, insatiable sexual appetite she’d developed was normal and meant to be harnessed before her libido waned on the way to the final stretch. 

“Men used to fight wars for women like you. And here you are, giving me  chance after chance to get it right.”

She whimpered into his ear. “Baby.” Her nails lightly scratched at his shoulder blades, begging for a touch only he could provide. “Please, Terrence. Don’t make me wait.”

How could he deny her? She’d asked so nicely and waited so patiently to have him joined to her at the waist. He owed her swift pleasure after all he’d put her through while the stress of growing ten fingers and ten toes reigned down new emotions every other day. 

Terry didn’t tarry on his way to granting her wish. He stood flat-footed before her, slightly bending his knees to deepen their kiss as they reveled in the feeling of his tip gathering wetness at her opening. 

“Tell me when to stop,” he breathed against her mouth. “I know I can’t go too deep. Say when.”

Their lips remained connected throughout his measured re-introduction to her body until a shared gasp turned two breaths into one. Patrice’s jaw dropped as he inched closer and closer to her limit. He watched her with intense focus and a furrowed brow, waiting for her to make the call. 

A little deeper. A little more. Almost. So close. “Right there,” she called out, her hands gripping his biceps to maintain her tether to reality. “Mm, right there.” 

He rolled his hips in a fluid, intentional back and forth, letting the tug from her walls set his start and endpoints. He lifted a hand from its space beside her hips to guide one of hers back toward the mattress for their fingers to interlock. 

Terry murmured variations of ‘I love you’ while Patrice allowed him to gently rock her through rolling waves of pleasure until moans turned into screams trapped in her throat. Strong legs acted with equal parts power and restraint to coax her into the release she deserved. 

He carefully leaned forward to rest his weight on his forearms and speak against her mouth once she felt her getting close to the promised land. “Look, this beautiful body carrying my baby. I was an idiot for wasting all this time when you needed me most. You forgive me, Piggy?” 

“Mhmm,” Patrice managed to whine as the coil in her body began to tighten in preparation for her orgasm. 

He shook his head, needing more. “Say it. Tell me you forgive me.”

“Yes!” She answered, tossing her head back to revel in the euphoria spreading across her limbs. “Yes! I forgive you!”

“My beautiful girl,” he whispered as he thrust into her, feeling the tips of her nails turn his skin into her personal emery board. He blinked away the mix of pain and pleasure to finish showering Patrice in praise. “You always have been.” He could feel her tightening around him, spurring a falter in his stroke that quickened his pace. He panted to match her deep breaths, turning a simple sentence into one he had to grit through clenched teeth. “You always will…be. Fuck, I’m…fuck.” 

Ninety days of pent-up emotions and withheld affection came with an orgasm strong enough to push Terry up on his toes while he listened to Patrice marvel at what he’d gifted her with his hard work. 

They heaved until heaving became delirious laughter, then ‘til laughter circled back to needy kisses missed during their time apart. 

Patrice pulled Terry close, cradling the back of his head to speak into his ear while leaving budding markers of his love under her earlobe. “I don’t want you thinkin’ that’s all for tonight.” Terry slowly released her skin from his lips and pulled away to answer with a quizzical look. Patrice pushed up on her forearms to nip at his bottom lip. 

“Come on. Get me off my back. It's your turn to be worshipped.”

--------

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[maeedrg]

What are we ?

part 2

fake dating trope Gojo X fem reader

ᯓ★

MASTERLIST of the series

part 1 part 2

Synopsis : Now everyone thinks you are dating the great Gojo Satoru. You are sent on a mission with him in the mountains, and realize that it’s actually a sweet honey trap made by the elders to hope you will come back with a ring on your finger, or a possible heir. What is wrong with them ?! And what is wrong with this sexual tension ? He is your best friend, for fuck’s sake !

Words count : 7.6k.

Warnings : fluff, romantic comedy, blood, sexual tension, slight smut, some dry humping (kinda), slight angst.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ Autor’s note : I’m back with part 2 !!! I wrote it in less than a week after the part 1, I hope the part 3 will be out soon as well. Enjoy <3

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Against your will, Satoru and you were stuck playing pretend. Being his fake girlfriend for one night, became for another day, and then a week, and then already two weeks. Since the gathering, the gossip went faster than you thought, and quickly EVERYONE in the jujutsu society knew that The Strongest had a partner, to the point that even your own students were curious about it. Hearing Nobara saying she couldn’t believe that someone would ever want to date her obnoxious professor was somewhat funny, and embarrassing at the same time.

Because now, you have to lie to their face, and the worst is that Satoru was amused, and actually took pleasure in these shenanigans. He claps his hand with yours, kissing it in front of a disgusted Megumi, a shocked Nobara and an impressed Yuji.

“Is he even treating you well, L/n ? Blink twice if you are dating Gojo against your will !” exclaims Megumi, stepping closer, meanwhile Yuji tries to muffle his laughter.

You look at the teenager, and intend to not smile at his panicked expression. If the poor boy knew… You agreed, but didn't expect that dating Gojo would last more than a night. He wasn’t even your real boyfriend. So, deciding to tease the white haired professor, you blink. One, twice, and Megumi gasps loudly.

“I knew it !” he says glaring at your supposed abuser, but Gojo puts his hand over your eyes to stop you from blinking again, bringing you against him.

“Hey, she’s lying ! Y/n, don’t be mean like that…” whines the so-called Strongest, and you squirm, laughing.

“Professor, I believe you ! You both look very much in love !” insists Yuji innocently, and you can’t help but flutter at him saying that. You couldn’t see the facial expression Satoru did, his hand still covering your eyes. But you wondered if the pink haired student said that because you both acted well in front of everyone, or if because your real feelings were slowly showing a bit too much. Fuck, you thought you weren’t obvious. You hoped Satoru only saw it as you being good at pretending, and nothing more.

“Well, I know she is head over heels. I mean, who wouldn’t ?” Gojo scoffs playfully, being fakely arrogant in his tone of voice.

“You say that, but you are the one that admitted you had a crush on y/n since you were 15,” adds Nobara, but the moment she started her sentence, the hands of Satoru left your eyes to instead cover your ears. Unfortunately, you didn’t have the chance to hear what the brown haired one said.

“Uh ?” you mutter, confused, and Satoru looks down at you with rosy cheeks, shaking his head.

“Your amazing professors need to go now, kiddos. We have a train to take, so get up, go study or something !” exclaims Satoru, freeing your audition and sliding his arm around your shoulders to make you follow him. They all grumble before saying goodbye, and you wave at them as well. Indeed, you had an unexpected mission with Satoru to attend to. One that was located 3 hours away by bullet train from Tokyo. The higher ups were sudden when ordering the two of you to go there, resulting in having to stay sleeping at the location in a hotel. Not that it bothered you, just that it strangely was… out of nowhere. 

“Kids these days…” he sighs, and you glare at Satoru, side-eying him. He looks back at you, raising an eyebrow.

“Ok, you grandpa. And why did you stop me from hearing what Nobara said ? If she said something embarrassing about you that I don’t know, then well… I want to know !” you protest, and he looks away sheepishly, which makes you frown at his unexpected behavior.

“Ahahahah…. nahhhh. Nothing, don’t worry about that,” he replies, acting nonchalant and shrugging off what happened as if it was nothing special or interesting. 

“Satoru, don’t bullshit me,” you sigh, getting even more curious now as you lean closer to him. But he keeps a poker face, before sliding his sleeve and looking at his expensive watch.

“Oh my god, look at the time ! Quick, we’ll be late at the train station !” he says panicked, but you knew better than to believe him, because last time you checked, you still had 2 hours before you. Yet, he doesn’t let you really protest as he grabs you again, and makes you dash with him in the corridor of the campus.

“Hey, we aren’t even late !”

“Time is just an illusionnnn !” he answers with what looks like a mysterious voice.

“This doesn’t even make any sense !” you retort, exasperated.

Satoru dragged you with him, forcing you to run, get your bag and rush towards the car of Ijichi, the poor black haired man startled to see the two of you dash in his direction. It didn’t take longer than two minutes for the car to rumble and then it engaged in the road. 

Once you arrive at the station, finding where your train was located and then entering it, sitting down after putting both of your bags with your necessities for the night in the right compartment, you can finally breathe. Satoru and you were alone in the wagon of the bullet train, but too shaken from this supposed race against time, you don’t question it more. You sigh deeply, looking at the sun setting and then at the person sitting next to you. His long legs were kind of cramped, so you somewhat feel bad for him.

“So it’s some upper grades in the mountains ? Maybe once we arrive at the hotel, even if it will be already late, we should go see around the forest to do some scouting,” you propose, breaking the silence as Satoru turns his face to look down at yours.

“Agreed, but believe me, this mission will go quicker than you think,” he affirms confidently, shrugging before taking off some candies from his bag and opening it, munching on one.

“Why are you so sure about it ?” you ask as he gives you some candies as well that you gladly accept and eat. Oh, way too sweet… Satoru looks at you and even if his blindfold is covering his eyes, you see how his facial expression changes.

“Y/n, be for real. The higher ups are sending us together to this mission on purpose. Now that they think we are dating, they have a new goal in mind,” he explains as if it was logical, and you swallow before dusting your hands from the sugar.

“Which is ?” you pressure him to elaborate more on the matter, not sure about what he was implying. 

“Probably making us have babies as fast as possible, since they think I’m some kind of dog ready to breed,” he spats, rolling his eyes and munching more aggressively on the candy. You almost choke on your saliva.

“What the hell- and how can they even plot this when sending us to fight some curses ?” you answer, not believing it. After what happened at the gathering two weeks ago, you quickly understood the expectations the elders had for Gojo. Some of them are marriage and heirs. But here it was backfiring on you. At first, you thought they would stop pestering him with questions of arranged marriage. They did stop, nonetheless it’s a matter of you now ! You just were supposed to act like his girlfriend for one night, not to be questioned about becoming his wife and starting a family !

“Did you even check the location of the hotel ?” he asks, turning more on his seat to face you better.

“I did, so what ?”

“There is an onsen, many places to sightsee, and overall, it’s a touristic place that a lot of newlyweds go to for their honeymoon. Very romantic, if you know what I mean. So they basically send us on a date to hope for something to happen,” he explains, looking at you before trailing his gaze on the window.

“Are they serious right now ?” you question deadpan. 

“Yep. I mean, it’s nothing cute. They don’t care if we enjoy it or not, they just hope that you either come back with a ring on your finger, or pregnant,” he sighs, shrugging. You don’t answer, your eyes not leaving him as you assimilate what he just said.

No way, no fucking way… Do they really want this ? First of all, Satoru is not even your boyfriend, so this situation was way more embarrassing. But even if he was, that still was wrong. 

“Hey, don’t look at me like that ! I didn’t choose it either,” he whines, defending himself as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“God… why is their mindset so old fashioned ?!” you groan, taking your face in your hands, exasperated.

“Y/n, don’t worry. We deal with the curses and just enjoy the place like some free weekend, or some break from their annoying faces, yeah ?” he proposes, his hand gently ruffling your hair to sooth you down and lighten the mood.

“Alright, I wanted to relax anyway, so this is good, I guess,” you finish to answer, trying to stay positive. Satoru smiles at you, and like that, the train starts to move.

You were stuck here for three hours. Either you were listening to the yap of Satoru, or you were laughing with him. Yet, you grew tired. Today was a long day, and the night was already up in the sky. You lay more comfortably against your seat, and plug on your earphones. You decide to listen to some music, and Satoru notices that. He doesn’t even need to ask, you already are offering him one of your earphones. He grins and puts it on his ear. As the song starts, you look at the scenery.

Your eyelids grow heavy, and Gojo looks at you, before softly pressing your head against his shoulder. You relax, feeling more at ease in this position, and close your eyes. The movement of the train lulls you to sleep, and Satoru takes your phone, knowing the password, and changes the playlist to something more calm.

He stares at you as you soon fall asleep, and gently, the back of his fingers caress your cheek. He smiles to himself, taking his own phone carefully to not wake you up, and then he snaps a picture. Here it goes in his gallery and folder of pics he has with you for years. Something he valued to keep, and enjoyed looking at whenever he was feeling lonely, far away on a mission overseas.

It would be a lie to say that Satoru wasn’t excited at the idea of this mission, curious to see how it will unfold. Yeah, curious, that’s what he told himself.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

As you arrived, the first thing you both did was to register in the hotel. A reservation was already made, and you look around the luxurious place while walking inside the elevator. Satoru leans against the wall, looking down at you.

“What do you think the room will look like ? There is only one bed, you know,” he starts to ask, taping his finger against his bicep when crossing his arms.

“We sleep in the same bed everytime we hangout, don’t make a big deal out of it,” you shake your head, too tired to indulge his weird antics for the rest of the evening. After all, last time, you both ended up sleeping in a hotel room, and Satoru even had to give you his shirt so you wouldn’t be butt naked. The aftermath of the hangover was special… but you were used to chaos with him. 

“You’re no fun, come on, I’m sure the room will be decorated with roses and shit,” he taunts you, getting closer as he balances himself on his other leg. You look at him through the mirror.

“No, they will not go that far,” you chuckle nervously, and now, he stands behind you, looking at you too through the mirror. 

“Well, if the reservation is made under the idea of us being newlyweds…” he muses playfully.

“We don’t even have rings on our fingers !” you reply, and the doors of the elevator open. Satoru steps back, you follow suit and roam through the corridor.

“You think they care ?” he scoffs, taking the keys they gave you earlier, and he slowly opens the door of your assigned room. You enter first, searching for the light.

“Well, it’s just some logic- oh lord,” you cut yourself the moment you manage to illuminate the room. Eyes wide open, you stare at a big king sized bed with flowers creating a heart on the sheets, and some romantic decorations in the spacious place, on the walls, the floor, etc.

“Told ya, sweetheart,” whispers Satoru smugly in your ear. You shiver head to toe and enter quickly, looking around dumbfounded. He takes off his blindfold to look around better. 

“What the fuck ?” you say, narrowing your eyes and not believing what you were seeing. You laugh, taking some of the flowers in your hands. You feel bad that they took the time to arrange a romantic room, all that to not be used in the end. You would lie too if you didn’t feel flustered at the idea of actually doing something with Satoru. No, you should snap out of it.

“Fuck is the right word to say,” jokes your best friend, walking around and then stepping in the corridor of the room to see where it leads.

“I’m not having sex with you on this bed, Satoru,” you correct, looking at him entering somewhere and turning on the lights.

“Why not in the bathroom ? Check it out !” his face pops and then he disappears again in the so-called bathroom. You follow him and open wide your mouth when seeing again flowers scattered on the floor, with a whole jacuzzi next to the shower, and bottles of alcohol in a bucket beside it, with many candles ready to be lit.

“A jacuzzi ? Wine ?!” you almost scream of surprise.

“So, maybe we should fuck. I mean, the atmosphere is perfect,” he trails, lifting his blindfold to give you a seductive glance, even winking at you. And oh, the butterflies in your stomach start to move again, moving quite a lot actually. You roll your eyes, ignoring this growing feeling inside your gut, and he steps closer.

“What ? We already made out, this is the natural next step-,” he starts, before you slap the back of his head, “ouch ! I’m just joking with you ! Can’t even recognize the teasing of your own best friend !” he whines, pouting, and massaging his nape. Of course, it didn’t hurt, he just wanted to make you feel bad.

“I can’t know if you are really joking because you tend to sometimes be serious, like last time at the gathering,” you say as you step out of the bathroom, continuing to inspect the place. You wouldn’t be surprised if you saw sextoys somewhere in the drawers. At this rate, nothing could surprise you anymore.

“You accepted to make out with me,” he justifies, behind you.

“But at first you were joking about it, and it came true. So just in case, I’m not letting you joke about fucking. Annnd, I will not let you touch one drop of wine. You lightweight ass will not handle it,” you warn as you sit down on the bed, and notice how comfy it was just by taking a seat on it. At least, you will sleep well.

“Fine, fine, geez ! Then you don’t drink any drop of wine too,” he retorts, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Why ? I hold well my liquor,” you defend yourself, frowning.

“And what if you end up drunk and jump on me trying to take off my clothes ? I’m innocent, you know ?” he scoffs, putting his hands in front of his torso as if he was shy, and you can’t help but laugh. His smile grows wider when he sees you enjoying his joke.

“Ah yes, very innocent… Alright, I won’t touch it too. But I will be bringing it home, it looks expensive and it would be a waste to not open the bottle,” you shrug, grinning slightly. Maybe you’ll share it with Shoko.

“You do as you please. Come on, let's check the forest before it’s too late, I’m starving and I don’t want to take too long,” he ends up saying as he grabs your hand to make you stand up, impatient, as he puts back his blindfold on.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

You roam through the big trees, in alert, trying to sense any type of curses that could be lurking around the forest. Each time you breathe, some fog is created because of the cold weather, in contrast with your warm mouth. Satoru was some meters behind, using his Six Eyes to spot any danger, and even levitating above the mountains to have a better vision of the environment. You reach the top of the hill, the wind caressing your skin. You stop walking, the sound of the snow cracking under your feet dying in the silence.

It was oddly calm, and as you raise your head to see where Gojo was, you end up impressed by the galaxy above your head embracing the sky. Your gaze lightens, staring at the infinity of the stars, murmuring a tiny ‘woaw’ to yourself. It truly was a sight to see, a beautiful piece of nature. You understood better why some people had their honeymoon taking place here.

“We can see the sky perfectly clear, here,” says Satoru, suddenly appearing next to you, hands in his pocket and his blindfold down his collar to allow his eyes to be out. You gaze at him, his hair slowly moving from the wind. He stares at the emptiness of the sky and the horizon, and you can’t help but feel some melancholia and loneliness emanating from him.

“You’re here… yeah, it’s amazing,” you answer softly, still bewitched by the stars.

“Did you sense anything ?” he asks, stepping now in front of you, the moon illuminating his white hair. It should be illegal how ethereal he is. 

“Nope, only animals. And you ?” You shrug.

“It was faint, so hard to know exactly where,” he explains vaguely.

“Are the curses hiding from us ?” you joke, turning slightly to look behind, but there is nothing in the darkness of the night. Only the moon reflects on the snow, illuminating the area.

“They should be. I would be scared too, if I was them,” he teases arrogantly, and you turn back towards him wiggling your eyebrows.

“They should shake in front of us !” you exclaim, intimidating, and he explodes of laughter, you too. After some seconds, your laughs die down slowly, and you take a deep breath, smiling. It wasn’t going so bad for now, you thought. Satoru quietly stares at you, his eyes twinkling with something intimate and what seems like vulnerability.

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it ?” he murmurs oh so gently, his gaze never leaving your face as if he simply couldn’t look away. You look into his irises, not answering for a second as you are caught back by his saying. You then lift your head, and look at the moon above the two of you. Your lips stretch in a soft smile, and your eyes fall back on Satoru.

“Very beautiful,” you insist in a sweet voice.

But then, a strong presence makes itself known, and two curses appear from the sky, rushing towards the two of you. You directly step back, in a fighting stance, your back pressed against the one of Satoru to have a peripheral view of the new opponents. You groan, ready to strike.

“Oh, we have some company. Interrupting our date like that, man… read the room, damn !” whines Satoru, a cocky smile stretching his lips, before easily avoiding an attack. You don’t wait any second longer and rush towards the curse in front of you and activate your cursed energy.

It dashes on the side but you follow suit. In the background, you hear Satoru fighting as well, and from what you can understand, he’s toying with his enemy, surely bored even though it was a grade 1 curse. You rolled your eyes, used of his antics during battles, and threw a cursed punch to the jaw of your own opponent. It screams and falls back on the ground, blood splashed everywhere on the once white snow -now an ugly green- as it struggles to stand back up. You decide to achieve it in one last blow, panting. Suddenly, it’s gone. You turn around, catching back your breath to see if Satoru was alright. But then you notice the curse attacking him from behind. As a reflex for his safety, you scream :  

“Look out !” Satoru grins and before you can even blink, the curse just exploded from the technique of your best friend. You step back, the blow creating a strong wind than then dies down as quickly as it came.

“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart,” he chuckles, saying it as if it was even stupid of you to dare worry for him in a battle. You don’t mention his arrogant tone, dusting your hands as he steps towards you.

“Well, that was way too quick…” you whisper. He stands in front of you, using his thumb to wipe some blood from your cheek. You look intently at him, the softness of his gesture in duality with the gruesome liquid he just took off.

“Don’t say that too fast,” he taunts, his smile growing wider.

“What do you mea-” you get interrupted by his arm swinging around you, and suddenly pressing your body against his. His hand is quickly on the back of your head to protect it. At the same moment, he raises his other fingers, and you can only sense the presence of a third curse jumping towards you from behind, soon getting annihilated by the red of Gojo.

Once it’s gone, you feel your heart beating fast in your throat, staying like that against the white haired male. You didn’t dare to move, still surprised from what happened, and surely because you didn’t want to step away from him.

“Thank you,” you end up whispering, before feeling his fingers caressing the sides of your face tenderly.

“Be more careful next time, y/n,” he says, more serious than usual. A facial expression that you weren’t used to see on him.

“You’re right,” you sigh, looking up at his eyes. His seriousness disappeared, now a fat grin is plastered on his handsome face.

“Our mission is done. Let’s go enjoy this arranged date, what do you think ?” he proposes, his thumb sliding down your neck, a lingering trail of fire on your skin, before he steps back.

“Dinner would be nice,” you accept, following him as he walks back down the hill. 

“You read my mind. I could eat for ten !” he exclaims hungrily, and as if the world heard him, his stomach growls of hunger. You chuckle at the sound, thinking it was cute.

“The restaurant of the hotel looked good,” you shrug, and he swings his arm around your shoulder to bring you centimeters closer so he could share some warmth with you in this snowy forest.

“As long as I can eat, I’ll go anywhere,” he comments, winking at you.

“Then let’s go, I’m starving too” you finish.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

Eating at the restaurant felt like a blessing to your starved bodies. Least to say, Satoru did eat for ten. Not to add the desserts he ordered. Long used to his appetite of an ogre, you didn’t comment and enjoyed watching him eat easily pounds of food. Obviously, Satoru being Satoru, he insisted on acting like boyfriend and girlfriend even though the two of you were far away from the elders. His reason why : who knows, maybe they are secretly watching ? Yeah, right. You didn’t buy any of that, and ended up having to spoon feed him his dessert, and let him spoon feed yours, or else he’ll throw a tantrum. A damn tantrum at his old age.

Exhausted, the two of you came back to the hotel room. Nothing changed since you left : the romantic atmosphere was still present. As you both wash your hands in the sink of the bathroom, you look at the jacuzzi. You already were picturing yourself relaxing in it, surrounded by hot water and warm bubbles. Some wine in your hand would be good too. No, wait. No wine. The both of you agreed on that earlier. Seeing you eying down the tube, Satoru leans on the sink once his hands are dried.

“Should we try the jacuzzi ?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest and glancing at it, doing a motion with his chin to show the tube.

“We ?” you ask, drying your hands on a towel, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, you and me. Who else ? Santa ?” he mocks, rolling his eyes. You huff at his teasing.

“I got it the first time. I mean, we’ll enjoy the jacuzzi, but not at the same time,” you explain yourself, more slowly, to emphasize what you mean as you look at Satoru to make sure it’s what you were thinking about. But the grin on his face says otherwise.

“No, at the same time,” he corrects.

“I don’t have a swimsuit,” you retort.

“Me neither,” he adds, shrugging, not caring about this issue.

“I will not go naked with you in the jacuzzi, Satoru,” you shake your head, warning him. Your best friend could be bold with his requests sometimes.

“Why not ?” he asks as if it was a genuine logical question.

“Seriously ? I don’t want to see your dick !” you exclaim, getting flustered. I mean, you did want to see his dick. But, not like that, in this situation. It would be too embarrassing. It was better if it only stayed as a fantasie of yours, anyway.

“Hey, you just hurt it’s ego !” He points, faking hurt as he puts his hand over his chest like he got damaged.

“Poor guy. Well, I’m not flashing you my coochie,” you laugh nervously when answering.

“I won’t mind-” you cut him off by giving him a warning glare. He flashes you a fake apologetic smile.

“Sorry. I mean, if you want I can put on my blindfold. I only can see cursed energy with it, no flesh or bones. Like that I would respect your privacy,” he suggests, stepping closer towards you, leaving the sink. You look at him approaching you.

“But on the contrary I would be seeing you naked,” you add, narrowing your eyes and staying straight on your feet when he looms over you. Why did he have to be so tall ? Damn.

“I don’t mind, you can look. I have nothing to hide from you.” He flashes you his playful smirk, showing his white teeth.

“You are shameless,” you sigh, shaking your head. 

“Ok, so what about our underwear ? No, wait, it’s gross, they are dirty… hum, then.. We are naked, buuuuut, we wrap a clean towel around our bodies, and go inside the jacuzzi with it. It will not be very comfortable, but better than nothing. What do you think ?” he ends up asking, tilting his head to the side. You bite the inside of your cheek, thinking about it, hard. You would lie if you said that you didn’t want to try the jacuzzi with Satoru. And this idea of the towel wasn’t so bad. You take a deep breath before nodding slowly.

“That’s actually not a bad idea…”

“Perfect ! Then let’s go,” he muses happily, beaming at the idea as he suddenly throws over his shoulders his shirt, revealing his toned torso. Quickly, his hands are on his belt that he swiftly takes it off, and you turn away as you grab a random white towel and rush out of the bathroom.

“Wait, don’t change in front of me ! Geez !” you exclaim, flustered. This man had no shame ! You only hear his laugh, as he seemed proud of himself. You sigh and sit on the bed, taking off your clothes, thoughtful. You fold them, before wrapping the towel around your body. Ok, that shit was tiny… It barely reached under your ass, and you couldn’t move too much or else it would fall. Alright, you had to work with that.

You try to be brave, feeling oddly nervous at the idea of being like that with Satoru, before stepping towards the bathroom. The door was still open from earlier, and as you carefully look inside, you see him already inside the jacuzzi. He was sitting lazily, head tilted back, his Adam apple to your seeing. The bubbles reached his middle, and you saw the tiny towel around his waist, hiding any private areas. His arms were spread out on each side of the tube, and he slowly moved his gaze towards you when sensing your approach. Holy fuck, he looked temptingly hot. Way too hot. No, that was bad. This whole atmosphere was bad. Since you started this fake dating thing with him, your fantasies grew wilder, and it got harder each time to hide your feelings and desires for your best friend.

“Don’t tell me you’re shy,” he teases, smiling cheekily. And God, that infuriated you so much. You glare at him as you carefully enter the jacuzzi, being awfully aware that the towel was way too small for you.

“Shut up,” you say, scouting away from him once you are completely inside the water. You sigh of comfort and pleasure, enjoying the bubbles against your body. It felt relaxing, your muscles needed that. 

“Why are you sitting so far away ?” asks your best friend, suspicious. You gaze at his half naked figure, his wet hair being slicked back, some drops falling down his face, neck, arms, chest. Ok, you should stop staring. And clearly, you felt like a dog. Why were you so tempted to just pounce on him ?! 

“Because you stink,” you reply, trying to hide your smile as you turn your head away and cover your nose. That obviously was a lie, Satoru always smelled something sweet, just like he got out of a bakery or a candy store. 

“Me ? Stinky ? I beg to differ ! Come here,” he scoffs, frowning, obviously offended, before suddenly grabbing you. He brings you towards him at light speed, making some of the water move around and splash. His arms wrap around your waist and squeeze you against his torso. You are now sitting in between his legs, your skin rubbing his. Holy shit, you swallow your saliva, looking up at him as you shift awkwardly.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he whispers, his blue eyes boring into yours, and you bat your lashes nervously. You wished you could act like everything was ok, back to normal, but it was almost impossible.

“Like what ?” you mutter back. Suddenly, your throat is dry. You were thirsty, and not only for water. Ok, the romantic atmosphere wasn’t helping at all, not to add the proximity. You move a bit, but Satoru doesn’t let you squirm away, resulting in your face getting closer to his.

“Like you want to kiss me,” he murmurs, and your stomach drops. You look away, at his shoulder instead. 

“You’re just projecting,” you end up answering, like you were just joking around. But the wavering in your voice betrays you instantly. Satoru narrows his eyes, and his thumb starts to softly caress your thigh, right below the towel. Your heart starts to beat incredibly faster.

“So you say I’m the one that wants to kiss you ?” he muses, smug. His eyes search yours for any truth, but you continue to look away.

“Kinda,” you simply say, and try to gather your courage to look back at his face. It would be weird if you stared away for too long, right ? Wrong, the moment you turn around, your lips are only a few inches from his. Shit, shit, shit. 

“Don’t tempt me,” he ends up saying, his breath caressing your lips. You look at his, pink and moisturized. Tempting, and you knew from the gathering that they tasted sweet.

“I didn’t,” you simply answer, and his thumb draws a circle on your thigh.

“You are.”

“You’re dumb,” you chuckle nervously, not knowing what to say. He smiles, like an idiot that just won the lottery.

“Love makes you dumb,” he says, kissing your cheek. You open your eyes wider, not sure if what you heard was correct. Did you ? Is he serious or just joking around like usual ? No, Satoru is your best friend. FRIEND. Get that in your head. You both loved to tease each other, so it was nothing new. Yeah, just the usual joking around, exactly. You take a deep breath and inhale a laugh, trying to not sound too nervous.

“You take your role of pretending to be my boyfriend very seriously,” you say, and his arm loosen a bit, allowing you to get more comfortable. You back away, leaving slightly his warmth, getting on the opposite side of the tub to face him. Even if the jacuzzi wasn’t very large, your legs tangling together, you at least could breathe better. Hoping to clear your clouded horny mind.

“I’m serious,” he says, looking straight into your eyes. You stare back, not answering, because at first you didn’t know how to react to his words. Some seconds pass, the tension still present as ever. You bite your lower lip, and then play with the hem of your towel, before sighing.

“Satoru…,” you start to say, in a soft voice.

“Hmmm ?”

“Do you think it would be that weird if we really started dating ?” you ask, looking into his eyes. He holds your gaze. Wait, why did you ask that ? You actually blurted this question out of your mouth without realizing. But you were dying to know his answer. It was vital.

“No,” he says, as simple as ever.

“Why ?”

“We’re basically acting like an old married couple all the time,” he explains, flashing you a teasing smile, chuckling. You chuckle back too, and then gently look away at the candles.

“True. But you don’t do commitment,” you say, more bitterly than you wanted. You hated yourself for saying the words Naoya said back at the gathering. It made you feel nauseous. Yet, you couldn’t help but know a part of what he said was true. Satoru didn’t give his heart like that. The risk of doing that was too high. Walls were all around him, making it almost impossible to reach his heart. 

“I… do,” he answers awkwardly. Oh no, did you make him uncomfortable ? But it was too late now, you couldn’t stop from speaking your mind. It was weighing heavy on you, after all. Could he really blame you for that ? Maybe. Or maybe not. It was too complicated.

“I know, you don’t have time for real relationships,” you say vaguely.

“Y/n, being The Strongest means…” sighs Satoru, frustrated.

“A lot of responsibilities, and you aren’t allowed to be vulnerable. So committing to someone is a no for you,” you cut him in his sentence. There is a pause where he stares at you longly, silent, frowning.

“I guess…”

“But I’ll always be here for you, you know that, right ?” you whisper, looking back at him, feeling bad for this change of mood. His lips stretch in a small smile, and you feel like you can breathe again. 

“I know.”

A second passes. You don’t talk, him either.

“Me too. I’ll always be here for you.” You smile at his words. You melted a little as well.

“I know,” you whisper. He looks at you like he wants to devour you.

Before you can understand what is happening, he suddenly looms over you, grabs your face, and kisses you. Tenderly. Oh, you think you just died and came back to life in a matter of a heart beat. Talking about heart, it’s hammering widely now. You shiver, as his hot and heavy breath is heard, mixed with the feeling of his hands cradling you with care and softness. You can’t resist, and answer the kiss. What was happening ? Why was he kissing you ? It wasn’t like at the gathering. No. It felt different. His lips move against yours, tilting his head to the side as he leans closer, impossibly closer.

“Don’t mind me,” he whispers in between a new kiss, his left hand sliding behind your head to hold you. “I’m just…” he continues, his lips more passionate, needier at each breath he takes, “... practicing,” he ends up saying, his knee sliding in between your thighs. Holy fuck, your towel suddenly feels suffocating, making you want to take it off. No, rip it off.

“Practicing for what ?” you ask in a short whisper as he cuts your breath by claiming your lips all over again. It was fierce, impatient. His right hand slides under your towel, reaching your thigh, inching towards your butt.

“If we need to put on a show in front of the elders, again,” he explains, before smashing his lips against yours, not allowing you to answer or utter a word aside from a moan. Your body feels like jelly, his knee dangerously close to your heat, his tongue caressing yours.

He sucks on your lip before devouring your mouth with so much want, like you were the last meal of this poor starved man. His fingers grips your hair, his other hand squeezing the fat of your inner thigh now. He opens more of your legs to slide them around his waist, as he stands up. You gasp, but he drinks it, his arm supporting you and grabbing your ass to keep you steady. Your body feels like it’s on fire, the water rushing down your two bodies as the kiss gets more intense. 

Not only the water got you wet, and you moaned against his tongue. Your breast is about to spill out of the towel, pressed on his torso, your nipples getting hard. He feels it. It’s making him crazy.

Satoru steps out of the jacuzzi without any difficulty, carrying you in his arms, and puts you down on the sink to continue kissing you. Even if the air around felt colder as you left the warmth of the water, your bodies are simply heated to the bone. He grabs your waist, bringing you closer, and you swear you just felt something hard. You glance down, and open your eyes wider when you notice that under his towel, Satoru is hard. Hard like a rock.

Lord have mercy. 

It grinds against your clothed cunt, and you can’t help but moan. It twitches, and his hands dig dipper in your fat. His tongue caresses you sensually, and you hear him groan. He then suddenly parted his lips away from yours, breathing heavy, panting like a dog, forehead falling on your shoulder.

“Y/n, push me away,” he suddenly says, catching back his breath.

“What ?” you ask, confused, still shaken from what happened.

“Or slap me, if you prefer,” he adds, his wet hair sticking to your skin as his hands roam up your back. You shudder, his touch feeling electric.

“Slap you ? Satoru you’re talking nonsen-” you start to answer.

“Please,” he cuts you, tilting his face to the side so you could look into his eyes. You gulp.

“Why ?” you whisper.

“Because I need to get away from you before we cross a line, and I don’t have the will to stop. So please, make me stop,” he begs. Satoru is begging you, looking weak, about to snap, about to crumble completely.

“And what if I don’t want to stop ?” you dare answer. 

“Y/n, please,” he insists. You stare into his eyes, and see all the self restraint in his gaze. You take a deep breath. You wanted more, but Satoru was right, it would be crossing a line. A line that maybe you weren’t ready to cross yet. Not now. So, reluctant, you push him away. Satoru steps back, putting his hand in his wet hair. You fluster, crossing your legs. He grabs a dry towel, and throws it at you. You catch it as he takes one too, wrapping it around his waist to take off the wet one and put it to dry as well.

“Let’s dry ourselves and go to sleep, yeah ? I’ll bring your pajamas so you can change in the bathroom,” he announces without waiting for an answer. You stay like that, unmoving, not knowing how to react, and he is already back, giving them to you. You barely notice him kissing your forehead, like an apology, before he turns around and closes the door to leave you the intimacy you needed to get changed.

… Ok. What just happened ?! 

Like a robot, you take off the wet towel and dry yourself with the other one. You don’t know how long you took, but once you are finished, you are stepping in the bedroom. You see him already under the covers, the flowers that formed the heart on the sheets are now down on the floor. His arms are crossed behind his head, and he glances at you when you arrive. Only the light of the moon outside was illuminating his face. You felt shy after what happened. There wasn’t the excuse of alcohol or annoying the elders to explain this steamy hot kisses session. The two of you knew that “practice” was a terrible lie. You sigh as you slide under the covers, and turn your back to Satoru as you try to calm down.

“Good night,” you end up saying.

“Good night, y/n,” he says, and God, it was awkward. You felt him shift slightly, his body brushing against yours. Some minutes passed in silence, only the sounds of your breathings in the quietness of the night.

“Do you hate me now ?” he suddenly asks out of nowhere, and you turn around, looking at him surprised.

“What ? Why would I ?”

“For kissing you like that,” he explains, and you look away, recalling his lips on yours. You fluster and sigh before answering “no, Satoru. I don’t.”  He smiles and then scoots even closer before wrapping his arm around your body, snuggling your back against his chest.

“I thought you were mad,” he whispers in the crook of your neck as he inhales your scent.

“I’m not, I promise,” you say gently.

“So… if I did it again, you wouldn't be mad, right ?” he teases.

“Don’t push your luck,” you chuckle softly.

“At least I asked,” he hums.

“Sleep, Satoru,” you order him. God, it felt good to talk back normally with him. The tension slowly died down. Because if it stayed like that, you wouldn’t have been able to sleep.

“Yes ma’am,” he ends up answering before kissing your cheek in a giggle.

It took you longer to fall asleep than usual, but at least, you managed to.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ  

The next day, the two of you didn’t talk about what happened, not even once. The rest of the day was full of the two of you being busy strolling around the city and the mountains, before having to go back to Tokyo. Later in the afternoon, after eating at a small local restaurant, you went to take your bullet train. Again, you had three hours to kill. Satoru decided to pester you, which ended in you wanting to kill him, but that only amused him more. He eventually calmed down when you both shared your earphones to listen to music, slowly falling back asleep against his shoulder.

It’s in a sigh that you stretch, done with the report you just had to do to the elders about the mission. Satoru grins, crossing his arms against his chest.

“Their faces were hilarious ! They were so mad that their little plan didn’t work !” exclaims Satoru, laughing, proud of this outcome. The plan did kind of work, actually. But not like the elders expected. You decide to not mention it.

“If they want new sorcerers so bad, why don’t they try to have kids themselves ?!” you sigh, walking next to him in the corridor, and Satoru glances at you.

“I think their sperm is like ashes, so probably it won’t work even if they tried,” he jokes, even though what he said had a big part of truth. You choke on your saliva, your face distorting with disgust.

“Ewwww, I just imagined it !” you cry out, Satoru explodes with laughter, and you soon do too. When he was laughing, it was impossible to not follow. It was way too contagious.

“Ahhhh… Sometimes I just wish I could annihilate all the elders without the consequences,” he suddenly says, looking at the sky.

“What ?” you ask surprised, not sure of what you heard.

“What ?” he repeats innocently, as if he didn’t say anything. You chuckle, shaking your head.

Everything was just fun and giggles (and hot make out sessions) for now. But going against the wish of the elders meant business. They didn’t care about your happiness as a couple with Gojo, -even if it was fake-, nor even cared about him as a person in the slightest. All they wanted was for him to work himself to the bone as The Strongest, and carry his duty as the head of the Gojo Clan, meaning marriage and heirs. If you weren’t able to give him that, then they would soon need to… get rid of you. And find a better suitor for their goals.

Fake dating Satoru brought you more problems than you originally thought. 

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

Part 3 coming soon !

[starzify]

pain *ೃ༄

pairing sam x angel!reader

warnings smut | fingering | p in v unprotected (wrap it before you tap it HAHA) | reader is innocent

MASTERLIST

You’ve been grumpy all day, unsure of the reason but pondering the rush that filled your blood whenever you kissed Sam, puzzled by this new different sort of heat that you've been feeling lately. Your panties have been a little wetter than normal when you'd come home and you thought it was some kind of illness.

Sam on the other hand was far from innocent, he knew exactly what you were feeling. He liked having you as his little angel. After all, he looked huge besides you, making his desire of touching you increase more and more.

You had very serious attachment issues, needing to be close to him at all times to be fully fulfilled and happy. Even though he tried to use that as an advantage, you were not very fond to touch him sexually. Whenever he'd take a step further, you would just push his hand away or make up an excuse. Maybe because you felt a little dirty, a little naughty. Angel and sex being in the same sentence never made sense to you. It also didn't help that he looked giant beside you. No matter how powerful and strong you were, you felt like he could easily crush you whole with his hand if he really wanted to.

Though you were both happy in this relationship, Sam wanted to move a little forward. He wanted to feel you and your body. But he never did, afraid it would demolish your innocence and your fragility. what you didn't know at the time was that his hands would easily help cure your little "illness".

"Alright, lets go home" he said taking you by the waist after you'd shown Dean some attitude which was not very usual of you. "Why?!” you whined, annoyed with his bossiness. “Baby, come on.” You gave in, following him to the door of the apartment. The walk home was rather odd. When a girl gave you a disgusted glance at you, you were fed up. “Fuck yo-“ your sentence got cut short when your boyfriend picked you up and put you over his shoulders, something that happened more often than you would think. "What is up with your attitude recently?" he questioned his sweet and fragile girlfriend that had recently developed a strange habit of taking back.

You were now sitting on Sam’s lap reflecting about what just happened. He would never admit it but your usual straddle of his lap would always leave him rock hard. At first, he would just try to hide it but after seeing that you were rather naive, he never really hid it anymore. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" he questioned after a long minute of silence "it’s just embarrassing" "Why would it be embarrassing, baby? You can tell me anything." You sighed "It’s just that…i've been feeling hot lately. Especially when i see you or when you kiss me. When i get home and go to the bathroom, I’m all soaked down there" You began sobbing in the crook of Sam’s shoulder, convinced that something was wrong with you. Sam, on the other hand, had a huge smirk on his face. Who would've thought that his ego would go up in less than 5 minutes?

"Where does it hurt baby? Here?" He asked, putting a hand on your stomach. "Lower" He lowered his hand, playing with the waistband of your shorts. "Can i take these off?" You nodded. That action reveals the sight of your glistening pussy, something he had never seen before but certainly fantasized about. You unexpectedly take his hand and place it right on top of your clit, throwing your head back and moaning at the slight touch. Sam knew your vessel wasn’t a virgin but you mentally were. “Let’s go to my room." He whispered, taking your hand and leading you to your room. He shut the door behind him. "Do you wanna learn how to relieve this feeling, baby? I can teach you.” Your legs trembled as you eagerly nodded. You both sat on the bed, facing your front to the mirror. "Open your legs, sweetheart" He whispered in your ear, giving you goosebumps on your skin. "There are plenty of ways to feel good. You can do it like this…" He muttered, rubbing your clit slowly as you let out a sigh of relief. “You can do this too…" He teased a finger to your core before entering it, pumping it in and out of you which elicited a moan from you. “You wanna learn more?" He offered and you nodded eagerly.

And there you were, watching him layed down on the bed with his massive cock sprung out. "It won’t fit, Sam" you said concernedly, examining his length. “Come on, you haven’t even tried the best part yet. You’ll feel so much better, my love." He beckoned you to come over and you listened to him, crawling on top of him and aligning his dick with your wet entrance. "Just sit on it, trust me.” He looked at you with reassuring eyes and that’s what did it for you. You nervously lowered yourself onto him, letting out a moan that’s almost pornographic. "It’s too big, i can’t do it.” You only had the tip in but that already too much for you. "That’s just the tip, baby. You’re not even halfway there." You exhaled, sinking down completely. “There you go…” He smiled proudly. “My beautiful girl took all of my cock huh?” You stayed silent, trying to catch your breath first. You felt a stinging pain, falling forward on his chest. “You gotta move baby” he whispered in your ear.

You started to bounce up and down his cock, loud moans escaping from your mouth each time you made a movement in the slightest. He loved the sight of you being cockdrunk and he would pay any amount of money just to see it for the first time again. You quickly switched positions, him being on top of you. The movement of his hips speeded up. “Sam!” You cried out as you felt the knot in your stomach tighten. “Shit!” He exclaimed, pulling out and releasing himself on your tits. He laid down beside you as you both panted. “Did I fix the pain, angel?”

tags: @ultravi0lence14 @bluemerakis @frosttbitessam @lanadelreyscokewhor3 @beausling @figthoughts @deansbeer @deanangel @titsout4jackles @haunteres @inspiredangel @pointocean @whisperingdaze @misatxox

cassie chats: sam x angel!reader is so underrated what the flip dude 🙁

[airybcby]

also for the new event ~ 🍊 & 🍰 with kunigami please!

hi! of course!

a kunigami rensuke orange cake :)

જ⁀♡⊹｡° fall out of line

♡ a/n — for my more than a married couple event!

♡ content — kunigami rensuke x gn! reader, ex! kunigami, ex! reader, mutual pining, established relationship (past) , kunigami wanting to focus on soccer, cuddling, second chance romance

♡ synopsis — all kunigami rensuke had wanted was to go pro in soccer, but at the cost of losing you? maybe this secind chance was everything he'd been waiting for.

You hadn’t seen Kunigami Rensuke in over a year. Not since the day he ended things.

“I need to focus on soccer,” he had said, standing in your doorway, his tone heavy with determination and regret. “I can’t give you the time or attention you deserve.”

You’d nodded, forcing yourself to keep your expression neutral. Kunigami’s dream of going pro had always been a driving force in his life, something you’d admired about him. You knew he wasn’t lying when he said he was doing this for you—but knowing didn’t make it hurt any less.

The first few months after the breakup were a blur of trying to fill the space he’d left behind. The late-night texts, the movie marathons, the quiet comfort of his presence—they were all gone. And now, over a year later, you were standing in a shared apartment with him again, thanks to the school’s brilliant marriage simulation program.

Of course, out of all the people in your class, it had to be him.

“Hey,” he said, his voice lower than you remembered, as if carrying the weight of unspoken things.

“Hi,” you replied, gripping the strap of your bag tightly.

He shifted his weight awkwardly, his golden eyes darting to meet yours for a brief second before flicking away. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” you said, your throat dry. “It has.”

The silence that followed was heavy, both of you acutely aware of the space between you.

Living together again was… surreal.

Kunigami was still the same in so many ways, and yet there was a new edge to him. He was quieter, more reserved, as if he were keeping something locked away.

He took on the role of caretaker almost immediately, cooking meals and cleaning without a word. When you offered to help, he’d shake his head and say, “It’s fine. I’ve got it.”

It was the same thoughtfulness you remembered, but now it felt tinged with guilt, like he was trying to make up for something.

The first week passed with polite conversations and carefully maintained boundaries. But as the days turned into weeks, the awkwardness began to thaw—just a little.

One evening, after dinner, you suggested watching a movie.

He hesitated. “I don’t know…”

“Come on,” you said, giving him a small smile. “It’s not like there’s much else to do.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Alright. But you pick.”

Settling onto the couch felt strangely familiar, like slipping into an old routine. He sat at one end, keeping a respectful distance, but as the movie played, you noticed the tension in his shoulders easing.

“That was… not bad,” he admitted as the credits rolled, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“See?” you teased, nudging him playfully. “Told you it’d be fun.”

He chuckled softly, the sound stirring something in your chest. For the first time in a long time, it felt like you were seeing glimpses of the Kunigami you used to know.

The next week, you convinced him to watch another movie.

Halfway through, you both fell asleep on the couch.

When you woke up, it was to the unfamiliar sensation of warmth against your side. Blinking groggily, you realized you were leaning against him, your head resting on his shoulder. His arm was draped loosely around you, his steady breathing brushing against your hair.

Your heart skipped a beat as you took in the scene.

Kunigami stirred, his eyes fluttering open. When he registered the situation, he tensed immediately, pulling away as if burned.

“Sorry,” he muttered, his face flushing red. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” you said quickly, brushing it off even as your cheeks burned. “Really.”

But the tension lingered, heavy and unspoken.

The shared moments began to pile up, each one pulling you back toward the memories of what you used to have.

One night, while you were working on an assignment at the kitchen table, you caught him watching you out of the corner of your eye.

“What?” you asked, looking up.

He blinked, as if snapped out of a trance. “Nothing,” he said, turning back to the dishes.

But the softness in his expression lingered, making your chest ache.

You thought about all the nights you used to spend like this—curled up together on the couch, laughing over something silly, sharing quiet conversations about your dreams and fears. It felt impossible to ignore how much you’d missed it.

As the program neared its end, the apartment felt heavier with each passing day.

The night before you were set to leave, you suggested watching one last movie. He agreed, though his expression was hard to read.

This time, you both stayed awake.

When the credits rolled, neither of you moved to turn off the TV.

“I’m going to miss this,” you said quietly, not looking at him.

Kunigami stiffened. “Yeah.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the way his jaw was clenched, his hands balled into fists on his lap.

“Hey,” you said softly. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer immediately. When he finally spoke, his voice was strained. “I thought… ending things would be better for you. That I was doing the right thing.”

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening.

“But now, being here with you…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I don’t know. Maybe I was wrong.”

Your heart raced, hope and fear warring within you.

“Kunigami,” you said, your voice trembling. “If you think there’s a chance for us—”

“I don’t want to hurt you again,” he interrupted, his golden eyes meeting yours. “I can’t promise I’ll get it right this time.”

“You don’t have to promise anything,” you said, reaching out to take his hand. “I just want to try.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, his hand tightened around yours.

“You’re really stubborn, you know that?” he said, a faint smile breaking through.

“Takes one to know one,” you shot back, your voice shaky with relief.

And as he pulled you into a tentative embrace, you felt a spark of hope—like maybe, just maybe, you could build something new together.

ughh kunigami my love

i hope you liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[cherryblossompink303]

Patience: ~A Challenge from Lobelia Girls Academy!~

➼ pairing: Kyoya Ootori x Reader ➼ summary: the host club gets a reaity check from an interesting group of visitors ➼ what to expect:  "I was sent to ouran for a reason, and...we're being patient, it's a lot easier to be patient here than it would be there" ➼ warnings: The zuka club, Tamaki's views on wlw ➼Part Eight | Part Ten

"I don't understand why I have to dress up as well Tamaki" while the ball gown you had been urged into was gorgeous you had to admit that it was not practical, the rare occasion that you would rather be in your uniform.

"For authenticity of course y/n if we are going for the more traditional European fairytale you would know first hand" Tamaki is failing at fastening his suit of armour, "Don't think I forgot that you grew up in France Tamaki I know that this is a ruse I just don't know what for..." You squint at him in skepticism.

"But you look so beautiful as princess" Tamaki starts crying, you roll your eyes "I thought our clients were meant to be the princesses" the last thing you needed to do was draw attention to yourself, it was the whole point of keeping your engagement to Kyoya a secret. "I'm inclined to agree with y/n, tamaki having her dress as a princess, while cute, may inspire rumors in our clients"

Cute? CUTE? You didn't think that the word was in Kyoya's vocabulary. "I'm just going to go change I don't need any client Jealousy it isn't good for the club" before you get the chance the move however the doors swing open, two girls that you do not recognise enter, which is when you remember that there were schools visiting for the cultural fair.

Snapping into host mode the other club members suddenly appear in position "Welcome ladies" Tamaki instantly taking on the knightly persona he has created for himself "Well, well, well, I see you ladies are from another school. I certainly hope we haven't startled you. We love first time guests"

Tamaki's eyes twinkle as he approaches the two girls "I'm glad you've come, princesses. My darlings even if the world were to be destroyed, I'd put my life on the line as your faithful knight and servant" The girls look less than impressed at Tamaki's 'chivarly'

"Oh my, do you you really think you'd be able to protect us?" One of them asks "That's awfully arrogant don't you agree?" Oh no. you could practically hear Tamaki breaking from across the room. "You think that's what a woman wants to hear? well you're wrong"

"Come on, give him a break, sister Suzuran, men are just lowly life forms who don't care about anything other than perpetuating their testosterone-laden image. By 'protecting' us he's actually attempting to disguise the fact that he is weak and unable of even protecting himself"

You and Kyoya exchange eye contact as if to question if they were being serious

"You're such a clever girl, Hinagiku"

Tamaki stands "Don't you think that's a little harsh?" You have to admit that Tamaki is keeping a much cooler head than expected, perhaps because the girls are strangers to him but you would have thought he would have had a crisis by now.

"Fine, then, what do women like you want to hear?"

A voice emits from far away, presumably from out in the hall "Maybe something like 'i would never leave my lover alone'" the next thing you know a third student appears with Haruhi in her arms "If we fight, it'll be together" she spins her "if we fail, we fail together"

"Even if I were to die, I promise you that I will never leave your side my love" She kisses Haruhi's than, you and the rest of the host club look on in shock, clear having missed a few pages. However it does kick off the crisis you were expecting off Tamaki.

"Benibara, we thought you'd never show"

"What are we going to do with you?"

"So tell me where you found this young lady"

"I just met her outside of the school" From the look on Haruhi's face you are willing to bet that 'met' isn't quite the right word."She may be dressed as a boy, but I knew the truth" while you were slightly surprised that the girls had put it together so quickly given that Haruhi can convincingly pass as a boy to the entire school you were also slightly cautious on how loud Benibara was announcing it in the hallway.

"She has so pretty, maidenly eyes" the way that she span haruhi around and dipped her strangely reminded you of tamaki "Uh, thanks, I guess" it soon progresses in all the girls fawning over Haruhi while the rest of you uncomfortably watch on.

"Wow her skin is incredibly soft"

"Isn't it though?"

"I think this ones going to be a diamond in the rough"

Tamaki has had enough, running to the girls "Don't go touching my Haruhi without asking my permission!" he is quickly rebuttled by benibara "Leaver her alone!" leaving Tamaki to crawl back to you "She punched me! Shes so violent!" he bursts into tears "Get ahold of yourself"

"Guess the rumours we heard are true, you guys are just a bunch of weak little punks with no sense between you" Kyoya finally gets a good look at them "Those uniforms, I assume you ladies are from the Lobelia Girl's academy?"

Benibara smirks "That is correct" the girls jump into a costume change and montage

"St Lobelia Academy, high school second year, Benio Amakusa"

"Second year student, Chizuru Maihara"

"First year student, Hinako Tsuwabuki"

"We are the members of the St Lobelia Academy's white lily league otherwise known as-"

"The Zuka Club!"

The host club doesn't really know what to make of it. The twins are the first to burst out laughing at the name "Oh man! What a name! The Zuka club? My stomach hurts"

"The Zuka Club! That's priceless"

"You shouldn't underestimate the zuka club!" Renge's cackling can be heard from far away as the whirring of the platform she uses to enter starts up once again. You roll your eyes "oh god"

"I may not know much about instant coffee, but I'm fascinated with girls schools. St Lobelia Academy. It is truly a woman's world there. The zuka club is a group of strong young maidens who consider women to be superior in every way. The club prides itself on it's 30 year history. It's a society of maidens, by maidens, for maidens. Zuka club activities include 'maiden tea parties' 'the maiden debate forum' but most importantly musical reviews performed by the society's top members"

In the time that it took for renge to finish rambling you had gotten the chance to slip out to change and return, as did Kyoya "You sure have a vast wealth of knowledge Renge"

"Well i've always admired St Lobelia's I just couldn't go to school there, though what would I do without any boys?" Renge disappeared quickly much to your relief. "A maiden's beauty, it means possessing a spirit pure enough to not give in to power or lust"

"As a girl, you, for a girl, you. We've had quite enough of all your oppressive male contempt for womankind"

"And our pride comes from having meaningful relationships based on equality, because we're the same sex. And yes, that include relationships of love"

"Yeah you tell them Benio"

"You're awesome Benibara"

While you were sat confused at the...certainly set beliefs of the girls the rest of the club had gotten bored, moving on quickly "Whatever, we're so over it"

"Why don't you gals just scram?"

"I find it hard to believe that you silly boys have nothing to say about our sublime female love" Chizuru speaks up.

You raise an eyebrow, turning to Kyoya who had moved to reading "Didn't she call the other one sister not five minutes ago?" the observation made him smirk, attempting to hold back a laugh.

"What is she even talking about?" one of the twins asks, continuing to ramble about their games "You should feel sorry for them hinagiku their patented host skills don't work on us. Now they're flusterest and don't know what to do with themselves"

"True. I must say I'm glad we decided to perform here. It was fun to sneak a peek at the notorious Ouran host club"

Honey turns to you "Are we really notorious?" you shrug "I suppose" while you will take any opportunity to call the host club out on something you did not like the seemingly high and mighty standpoint the zuka club was taking.

Benibara suddenly appears next to you, apparently only now noticing your presence "Oh? Another maiden? Tell me these pathetic men have not lured you in with their schemes" you had to resist the urge to burst out laughing at the view that Benibara had built up in her head "I'm not a client, trust me if anything they are victims to my schemes"

"What?" Kaoru looks up from the DS, resulting in you elbowing him to distract from the questioning. "You're not a 'client' of this so called host club? then pray tell why are you here?"

"She's my fiance" Your face fell at how nonchalant Kyoya was about revealing that fact to pretty much strangers, wanting to remind him that it is supposed to be a secret. You didn't even know why that was what he chose to reveal, he could have easily enough said that you were a club member. Perhaps it was to deter Benibara from treating you the same way as she had Haruhi.

"So they have lured you in, poor thing dragging you down with them, the both of you, the host club's president may be a petty little halfer, but he shouldn't be using his looks to create a fictitious romance! Attempting to fool the heart of a pure, young maiden is demeaning! Your so-called 'club activities' are nothing more than debasing macho fantasies"

"If I may butt in, these lot may be idiots but they aren't scheming to take advantage of women, the girls at this school are smart enough to know what a host club is in premise and know what they are entering into when they request a host. They aren't exactly luring the women in they come on their own accord" leaning back in your seat trying to picture what exactly they thought the host club was but coming up empty

"Oh you are in so deep, they have told you so many lies you've started to believe them to be true, and now they have entrapped you into an engagement! I promise you, we will bring this club down! The Ouran Host club will be abolished"

You raise an eyebrow, you think that the reaction is a bit dramatic until you remember they are literally theatre kids. "I see, I understand your concern, but do you think maybe we could finish this later?"

"Are you saying that you're not going to face us?" Benio asks "Not at all, it's just that our president is still bedridden from the initial culture shock"

"You see Tama-chan is having his nappy time right now"

"Wake him up!" Benio seethed "Excuse me. I made some coffee. Would you ladies like to have some?" the zuka club fawn over haruhi and her coffee, which seems to snap Tamaki from his nap.

"You girls have it all wrong! Don't you see there's nothing to be gained in a romantic relationship between women? If that were the case then why did god create adam and eve?" You put your head in your hands, praying that you heard Tamaki wrong, but knowing that you probably didn't, karma instantly faces him as he burns himself on coffee. "Hot! Hot! Hot!"

"You've gotta be more careful senpai" Haruhi kneels down to bandage him up. You turn to Kyoya "So at what point was I going to find out that you have been 'dragging me down with your lies'?" You laugh, Kyoya smirks, pushing up his glasses "Just wait until they find out our engagement was arranged"

"This little conversation doesn't seem to be going anywhere" Benio yanks you and Haruhi away from the hosts "Now that we know what's going on, we can't allow these maidens to stay here. We'll prepare their paperwork and have them transferred to Lobelia at once and we'll welcome them into the zuka club"

"Huh?!" You couldn't help but see the irony in the situation that they were accusing the host club of holding you and Haruhi captive yet also declare to steal you both to Lobelia without even asking.

"Hey, just wait a second, will ya? There seems to have been some misunderstandings here. I mean first of all you called senpai a 'halfer'"

"He is a halfer! He's half french half Japanese" Honey chimes in "Well, uh, anyway, I don't think it's fair for you to pick on the host club just because you don't think they have the same history as you do" you add.

"We barely have any history. We were just founded two years ago"

"Yeah the boss created it whenever he started highschool here"

"Be that as it may saying their club activities are only held to satisfy their appetites is just wrong, I mean it's not like the host club is charging their guests or anything"

You grimace at Haruhi's point knowing that Kyoya's going to correct her any second "While I wouldn't call it a charge, we do have a point system. We offer priority services based on the winning bids of auctions held on our website" You pinch the bridge of your nose,trying to point out to Kyoya that he was not helping Haruhi's point.

"Check this out Haruhi, your used mechanical pencil just sold with a winning bid of 30,000 yen. Good for you"

Haruhi rushes over to the laptop the two of you were stood next to "What?! But I thought I lost that pencil! Why didn't you tell me about this before Kyoya-senpai? I had no idea you were collecting money!"

"So you thought we were all just working here as volunteers? While it''s not much, because of the expense of organising events, we happen to make a small profit from the online auctions"

"You can't sell other people's things without asking permission! That's stealing!" The twins slide in at an attempt to diffuse the situation "It wasn't stealing. You dropped it on the floor" Haruhi looks furious.

Tamaki bursts out crying, rushing over "I'm sorry Haruhi! It's not like we were hiding it from you! Here you can have mind it's got a cute teddy bear on it" Haruhi rolls her eyes "Senpai I don't want your pencil"

"Well to make it up to you how about i do this? I'll tell you the secrets to my success and my fondest memories"

"Not to be rude senpai but I'm not really interested in that information" Tamaki goes to sulk in the corner at the reply, leading the zuka club to swoop in "Oh you poor dear, I can't believe they've been deceiving you"

"Why don't you two just dump these losers and come with us?"

You shoot Kyoya a glance questioning why they were so dedicated "I kinda have an attachment here so..." you could have sworn that in the corner of your eye you saw Kyoya smile. "Oh, well it has been a long day, we'll give you both some time to think about it. We'll come back for your answer tomorrow. Well then, adieu" The zuka club spin out the room.

Haruhi sends death glare to the rest of the club "I'd better be going I've got some thinking to do" She storms out leaving Tamaki wailing "Why did you have to tell her the truth? You just added fuel to the fire"

"Tamaki you shouldn't be mad she found out if you knew she was going to react like this" You point out, you weren't in charge of the auctions, that was Kyoya's side of things, you just assumed they were of photobooks not used pencils "The facts are the facts" Kyoya shrugs.

"Maybe we should've asked before we sold her pencil on the internet"

"Yeah, for all we know, it was a keepsake from her mother"

"Nah it was just a freebie they were giving out at the electronics store"

Tamaki finally calms down into a more forlorn expression "Gentlemen, just think about it. Haruhi may be basically indifferent, but if she had to choose, we know that she tends to favour men's clothing. And besides, when she first joined the host club, didn't she tell us 'being a host and getting fussed over by a bunch of girls might not be that bad' Why didn't I realise this before? Perhaps they would be a better match for Haruhi. Maybe she'd be better off with the Zuka club"

"I think you're reading way too much into this senpai, even if Haruhi is attracted to women that doesn't mean she's going to transfer schools to be with some strangers, her scholarship probably wouldn't even transfer over. She's just mad because you went behind her back" You cross your arms, confused on why Tamaki was being so dramatic.

"Haruhi is smart enough to pass the Lobelia scholarship test"

"And they have the money to pay off the 8 million yen debt she owes us"

"Haru-chan is going away?"

"She's perfect for a girl's school"

"What are we going to do?"

"Calm down, it'll be alright, listen to what I have to say. I have a secret plan." You face palm, knowing that they aren't going to see sense until Haruhi tells them directly. "Okay, whatever, you're going to go ahead and do it anyway why do I try?"

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

"You're not considering transferring are you?" Kyoya asks while the two of you walk to his car that afternoon. "Huh?" the question catches you off guard, you thought it had been made clear earlier. "You seemed...frustrated earlier, you know that you aren't tied to ouran? if you really wanted to transfer to Lobelia a good point could be made to your father to allow you to transfer"

"I wasn't, I'm used to Tamaki's antics by now, besides I don't think it would be helpful" you reply, looking at all the displays for the exposition "Hm?"

"I was sent to ouran for a reason, and...we're being patient, it's a lot easier to be patient here than it would be there" You smile, entering the car.

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

You decided to walk into school with Haruhi this morning, not wanting to get unceremoniously swept up again, however you find the Zuka club waiting for you as you approach music room 3. "Hello young maidens"

"We've come for your decision. Are you prepared to leave?"

"We're ready to confront those ouran host club idiots and set things straight once and for all"

Haruhi raises an eyebrow "Set what straight?" Benibara slides over "That you should come with us and go to school with your own kind" she starts dragging the two of you off "She does know other girls attend here right?"

The host club is plunged into darkness as they open the door to the music room.

"Ouran!"

"Ouran!"

"Ouran!"

"Ouran!"

"Ouran!"

The lights flicker on to reveal the host club "Ouran! Host club welcomes you!" The sight stuns you and seemingly the rest of the girls, you had to admit when Tamaki said he had a plan this was the last thing you expected, the entire host club dressed up as princesses"

“Oh, Haruhi, y/n, welcome back.” Tamaki greets in a red ballgown with pink accents, almost a princess version of the knight costume he had been wearing the previous day.

Honey twirls to the front in a magenta gown, his blonde hair also done up with extensions and beyond garish makeup, “Look, y/n-chan! I’m a princess now! Aren’t I cute?!”

Benibara gasps in offense, “What is the meaning of this?! Are you trying to make fun of womankind?!” she demands. All the while, you’re still beyond confused.

“Make fun? No, that’s not it at all. Everything's going according to plan. Our strategy is guaranteed to make even a crying child smile. It's the freebie campaign!”

"Oh Tamaki" You shuffle away "You ladies have lived sheltered lives at Lobelia so you might not know that commoners are weak. They have a weakness for free things! Haruhi, you may be distracted by the Zuka club, but choose us and you gain not only a host club full of brothers but sisters as well! See, this way you can experience feminine bonding while staying in the host club"

"I am right here?" You point out, rolling your eyes through a laughter however, because you had to admit,this was entertaining to watch. "Isn't that a great idea? aren't I pretty?"

"We’re the Hitachiin Sisters! Which one of us is prettier?” They appear closer to you, fans covering their mouths.

“I’m just teasing you,” Hikaru whispers as Kaoru laughs haughtily.

��Listen, Haru-chan! You can call me Big Sis from now on.” Honey seems to be the least uncomfortable in his attire. Even Usa-chan is decorated with a red bow and bold lipstick.

“Why you! Do you idiots really think you can win her over like this? I’ve had enough of your fooling around!”

Finally, seemingly both of your exteriors crumble, and you burst into a fit of laughter. Not amused chuckles or snickers, but whole-hearted laughter at their show of… whatever this might be.

“This is too much! What the hell are you even trying to do! Oh man, look at those outfits!”

The twins and Honey start chasing Haruhi around the room telling her to call them big sister. "What were you thinking? What's gotten into you guys?"

"We did this because we don't want you to leave the host club"

You approach Kyoya "What did they have to do to get you on board with this one?" he shakes his head "I don't want to talk about it" You laugh.

"So maiden, have you made your choice?" Haruhi stands "Yeah I have, I'm sorry but your club is not for me I think the idea of a girls' school is great, and your views are very unique and interesting. But I came to this school with a goal and a plan for my future so while I appreciate your offer, I really already knew that I was never going to leave ouran academy"

"Haruhi! So why were you acting so angry yesterday if you weren't going to leave?"

"How'd you feel if I stole something of yours without asking you?"

"I told you all this" You shook your head.

"Um… Benio?” Chizuru begins as she watches the interaction, Benibara lets her eyelids slip closed as she sighs.

“Yes… I know. We’re not going to give up on you” She leans over to you.

“I swear this to you. Someday we’ll come and rescue you from this place and your arrangement! And when we do, we’ll abolish the Ouran Host Club!” Benibara affirms with vigor and a smug smirk.

“Well, adieu~.”

Just as they twirl through the door, the three of them simultaneously slip on banana peels just as the doors to the club room close.

“Until we meet again.” you cross your arms and sigh in exasperation.

The lights flicker out, and Renge’s platform rises from the ground for the second time this episode, except this time with a monkey at her side.

“And so, a new rival, the Zuka Club, has appeared. From this point on, the story’s gonna get even more exciting! What’s gonna happen to our beloved host club boys and y/n next? Hang in there, Host Club! Don’t give up, guys!” Renge munches on a banana.

"Hey its not your job to cook things up!"

With that all over you finally take in Kyoya's appearance "I must admit you wear it better than i do" Kyoya rolls his eyes through a laugh "Shut up" You laugh. "Oh sorry 'mother kyoya'"

Next time on patience 'A day in the life of the L/N family!'

Tag list (reply to be added): @skottch @cgmajor @rebirthbunbun @bbybubbles @blueberry19000 @katgirl05 @smellslikelovinglies @veras-fanfic-reblogs @sadprimrose @mirtalikesdr @sleeplesssskeleton @ritzes28 @crackpeole @rory-cakes @renjunniex @II-kita-san-II @angelicwillows

[burningembers91]

The Taste of You - Park Min-Su x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Follow up piece to:

The Secretary Lunch Date Awards Night Overtime

Synopsis: Desperate for more, Park Min-Su takes you to dinner. But you're the only thing he wants for dessert.

A/N: There's probably typos galore because I wrote this at lightning speed

Park Min-Su hadn’t slept all night. You’d been going round and round his mind like a broken record, the feel of your lips on his, the way they stained his skin with your lipstick drove him insane. He didn’t want to wipe away the cherry red stain at the base of his cock, the only evidence that his time with you in his office hadn’t been a complete dream. You made him feel things he’d never felt before, had acted out a fantasy he’d had so many times. And all he’d had to do was ask. You’d been so clear with him; you couldn’t help him if he didn’t tell you what he needed. What he needed was you. Last night had only been the tip of the iceberg, and he was so eager to learn more. He wanted you to show him everything you knew, to teach him how to make you feel as good he had.

He was nervous about going into the office that morning, of seeing you again. He had so many things he wanted to say to you, but the closer he got to his office door, the more his nerves chewed through him. By the time his hand was on the doorknob, he’d convinced himself he’d dreamt the whole thing.

But then he saw you, sitting at your desk, with the same cherry red lipstick on. You smiled sweetly as he entered, handing him his agenda for the day. Min-Su could feel himself stiffen again, could see your eyes trail down his body as you too noticed his arousal. “You have the presentation today at 3pm,” you said, choosing not to comment on his very visible erection. You’d made the first move, but now Min-Su needed to take charge. “Your dad would also like to meet with you at 9am, so I’ve scheduled in 30 minutes with him to go over the work we’ve done. The marketing department want a quick debrief at 1:30 to great ready for the presentation, and finance were chasing your weekly expense report. I tracked down all your receipts, and I’ve sent them off for you.”

You were so confident, so sure of yourself and Min-Su hadn’t listened to a word you’d said. He’d been too busy staring at your lips, wanting nothing more than to have you trail them down his body again. “Min-Su?” you asked, “did you hear what I said?” “No,” he admitted, “I was distracted.” You sighed, but couldn’t help but smile. “Anything you need?” Your words from last night echoed in his brain; he needed to tell you what he wanted. “I want to kiss you,” he breathed, his briefcase clenched in his hands as he stared at your perfect lips. “Then kiss me,” you whispered. His lips met yours softly, his tongue running along your lower lip, just as you’d shown him the night before. His hand came to rest at the nape of your neck, the kiss deepening as his briefcase clattered to the floor. You held each other in the silence of his office, clinging to one another as you lost yourselves in the sensation.

“Your dad will be here soon,” you smiled, finally pulling away, despite every fibre of your being screaming at you to keep going. Min-Su’s lips were stained with the colour you wore, and you carefully wiped the lipstick away, erasing any evidence that he had been kissing his secretary. He wanted to tell you to leave the marks, to let him show them off like a badge of honour. But the feeling of your thumb brushing over his lips felt almost as good as kissing you, and he moaned into your touch.

He couldn’t concentrate all day, especially when you were sat less then 10 feet away from him. He somehow managed to get through the presentation without any hiccups, his eyes trained on you as you diligently took notes throughout. He wanted to ask you out tonight, to take you for dinner at his favourite restaurant. You’d told him to be more assertive, so when you were back in his office, he approached you. “Will you come for dinner with me tonight?” He asked, his voice shaking slightly as he asked you. he didn’t want to be nervous, but you made him weak at the knees. “I’d like that. What time would you like me?” You tried to ignore the flutter in your chest as he asked you, the butterflies that jostled in your stomach. “Is 7 ok?” Min-Su could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he waited for your response. He wondered if he’d always be this nervous around you, or whether it would get better with time. “7 is perfect,” you smiled, “I’ll text you my address.”

Min-Su was nothing, if not punctual. He arrived at 7pm on the dot to find you dressed in a burgundy off-the-shoulder mini dress. He’d bought you a dozen roses and a box of chocolates, clutching them to his chest as he waited for you to open the door. “They’re beautiful,” you smiled, setting the flowers up in a vase. No one had ever bought you flowers before, and the gesture was sweet. You didn’t stop talking throughout dinner, and Min-Su was slowly but surely coming out of his shell. He didn’t want the evening to end, but then again, he could spend an eternity with you, and it would never be enough.

“Can I come back to yours?” he asked, as the two of you left the restaurant. “What for?” you asked innocently, but your sly smile showed him you were joking. “I want to…” Min-Su was struggling again, struggling to voice just how badly he wanted you. “I want make you feel good.” His arms gingerly snaked around your waist, pulling you in for a brief kiss. “I want you to feel how I felt last night.”

Your hand cupped his cheek, your gaze meeting his. He was so sweet, so eager and those butterflies in your stomach started up again. “Ok, Min-Su,” you smiled, “take me home.” He opened the car door you, shutting it gently when you were seated. No one had ever done that for you either. You hadn’t realised just how kind he was to you. He always opened doors for you, pulled your chair out for you when you out for meals, or even just a coffee. He was such a gentleman, more so than anyone else you’d ever met.

As soon as you arrived home, his lips were on yours. You pulled his jacket off his shoulders, throwing it unceremoniously onto the floor as his hands explored your hips and waist. “What do you want?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper as his lips traced the outline of your jaw. His nerves were decreasing by the second, overridden by his desire to please you. “I want to know what you taste like,” he told you, his fingers fumbling for the zip on the back of your dress. He couldn’t believe how bold he was being, but that was the kind of effect you had on him; you made him feel on top of the world.

You led him to your sofa, shedding your clothes for him as you went, until only your underwear remained. Your body was perfection, your curves igniting the fire in his belly as he took in every inch of you. You were so beautiful, the curve of your breasts so soft. His fingers caressed your body, starting at your shoulders and working his way down. You moaned for him, his touch on your skin setting every atom of your body alight. “Where do you want me?” you asked, desperate for him to take control, to tell you what he wanted.

Wordlessly, he guided you to your sofa, sitting you gently down on the cushions as he knelt before you. He looked up at you, his eyes wide as you took you in. You really were the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. You brought his hands to the soft lace of your underwear, arching your hips as he pulled them down over your thighs. You were so wet, so perfect and Min-Su couldn’t help but moan at the sight of you. he didn’t know what to do, didn’t know where to start with you. “Touch me,” you whispered, propping your feet up on the seat to give him full access. Gingerly, his fingers reached out, caressing your slick folds as you let out the softest moan. You felt incredible, and he couldn’t believe you were this wet for him. He groaned as his fingers found your soft, tight core, pushing them inside you. “Fuck,” you whispered, watching the expression on his face as he explored you. He could feel his own arousal pushing against his jeans, and he palmed at his crotch as he lowered his tongue to your clit.

You tasted heavenly, your walls clenching around his fingers as he ran his tongue over your sensitive nub. He was so gentle with you, so careful as he figured out what you liked. Your moans were the sweetest sound he’d ever heard, his cock painfully stiff as he pressed the softest kiss to your clit. He was driving you crazy, his touch so timid and yet so perfect. His fingers were hitting a spot deep inside you, bringing you closer to the edge. “Feels so good,” you whimpered, “keep going, Min-Su.” Hearing you say his name, hearing you tell him how good he was making you feel was his undoing. He felt himself let go, spilling himself inside of his jeans. His tongue worked against you in rhythm with his fingers, feeling your soft, tight walls contract as you neared the brink. “So close,” you moaned, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pushed his face against your soaking core. You came undone with a cry, a noise that send the most blissful shivers down his spine.

You sank down on to the floor next to him, your legs quivering as your lips met. His tongue tasted like you, and you were desperate for more. it was funny how last night he was completely at your mercy, yet tonight you were completely at his. You wanted to replay the favour, to show him how it felt to be inside you. Your hand dipped into his jeans, gripping his cock. “Oh!” Your fingers brushed against the fabric of his underwear, soaked with the arousal he’d hadn’t been unable to contain. “I couldn’t help it,” he whined, “you tasted so good.” “It’s ok,” you smiled, feeling him harden against your touch. You wanted him, all of him. You didn’t want to play games anymore.

As you went to unzip his jeans, Min-Su’s phone buzzed. You both audibly groaned, so wrapped up in the moment. He was going to ignore it, but then his phoned buzzed again. And again. Sighing, he pulled it from his pocket. “It’s my dad,” he sighed. “He wants to see me back at the office.” “Oh, ok.” You’d tried to mask your disappointment, to hide the fact that you didn’t want him to leave. “I wish I could stay,” he breathed, his lips brushing against yours. If it had been anyone else, he’d have ignored it. But his father was not a man you could ignore. “I understand,” you smiled. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

He left you on the floor of your living room, your heart still racing as you came down from your high. You were so confident on the outside, a force of nature who always seemed so self-assured. But on the inside, you were insecure, so desperate to be loved. No one had ever cared for you the way Min-Su had. No one had ever been so sweet, or kind to you. Nobody had ever treated your body like it was a temple, but Min-Su had sunk to his knees for you, worshipped you. This whole thing had started because you’d been desperate to feel something, and you knew Min-Su liked you. But now, as you listened to his car pull away from the street, you wondered if it was something more.

You wondered if perhaps you were doing what no one ever seemed capable of doing for you. Maybe you were falling a little harder for your timid boss that you cared to admit.

[doujinshigirlai]

Closer than ever <3

It's been a while 😭🫶🏻✨

Sypnosis: random drabble about enha confessing to y/n (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

Pairing: ot7!enhypen x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, acquaintances to lovers

Warnings: none!!!

Enjoy my pookies 🫶🏻✨💞

⋋⁠✿Lee Heeseung✿⁠⋌ You’re standing by the vending machine in the office break room, staring blankly at the rows of snacks, your mind too cluttered to decide on anything. The soft hum of the machine is drowned out by the sound of a familiar voice behind you.

“You’ve been eyeing that granola bar for the last two minutes. Is it really that good?”

You turn around to see Heeseung, his signature playful grin already tugging at his lips. You’ve known him for a few months now—he joined your department not long ago. Though your conversations have mostly been surface-level, there’s something about his relaxed confidence that always gets under your skin.

“It’s not about the granola bar,” you reply with a sigh, pressing the button for a random snack. “I’m just... distracted.”

Heeseung tilts his head, his eyes softening. “Work stress?”

“Among other things,” you admit, clutching the snack as if it’s a lifeline. You’re not sure why, but you feel a strange urge to confide in him, even though you’ve barely scratched the surface of who he is.

“Here,” he says, leaning against the vending machine. “I’ll trade you five minutes of bad jokes for a smile. Deal?”

You scoff, shaking your head. “You really think your jokes are that good?”

He smirks. “I think I can make you laugh. And I’m not leaving until I do.”

True to his word, Heeseung starts spouting the cheesiest, most ridiculous puns you’ve ever heard. It’s impossible not to crack a smile, and by the end of his impromptu comedy routine, you’re laughing so hard you nearly forget why you were stressed in the first place.

“See?” he says, his eyes twinkling with satisfaction. “Mission accomplished.”

You roll your eyes, but the warmth in your chest lingers. “Fine, I’ll admit it. You’re not the worst company.”

“Wow,” he teases, pretending to clutch his heart. “The highest praise I’ve ever received.”

From that day on, Heeseung seems to pop up everywhere—whether it’s during lunch breaks or late nights at the office. The more you talk, the more you realize how easy it is to be around him. He has this uncanny ability to make you forget your worries, to make you feel seen.

One evening, after yet another long day, he walks you to your car. The cool breeze carries the faint scent of his cologne, and for a moment, the world feels a little less heavy.

“You know,” he says softly, shoving his hands into his pockets, “I never thought I’d look forward to work so much... until I met you.”

You freeze, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. His usual teasing tone is gone, replaced by something deeper, something that makes your heart skip a beat.

“Heeseung—”

“I mean it,” he interrupts, his gaze meeting yours. “You make everything better. And I think... I think I want to be the person who does that for you, too.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with meaning. For once, you’re at a loss for words, but the way he looks at you—with so much hope and vulnerability—tells you all you need to know.

So you take a step closer, letting your walls crumble just a little. “You already do.”

His smile is slow, genuine, and when he takes your hand in his, it feels like the start of something you never saw coming—but everything you’ve been waiting for.

Rest of the members under the cut ✨✨✨

⋋⁠✿Park Jongseong✿⁠⋌ It starts on an ordinary Tuesday, with you standing in line at the campus coffee shop. The line is slow, and the cold draft from the door doesn’t help your mood. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, checking the time. You’re already running late.

“I’d suggest the caramel latte,” a smooth voice says behind you. You turn to see Jay, his dark eyes studying the menu as if he hasn’t memorized it already.

You know him in passing—a friend of a friend, someone who’s always in the background of your social circle but never quite in your orbit. He’s polite, even charming, but he’s always been... distant.

“I don’t think caramel’s going to fix my morning,” you reply with a sigh, crossing your arms.

Jay glances down at you, a small smirk playing on his lips. “No, but caffeine might.”

The barista finally calls your turn, and as you step up to order, Jay leans casually against the counter beside you. You don’t know why, but his presence is oddly calming.

“You’re not going to cut me in line, are you?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Relax,” he says, his tone amused. “I’m just here to keep you company.”

You scoff but can’t hide the small smile tugging at your lips. After you order, Jay steps forward, surprising you by paying for your drink before you can protest.

“Jay—”

“Consider it my good deed of the day,” he says, his smirk softening into something almost kind. “You look like you could use one.”

You don’t have time to argue, nor do you have time to dwell on it. But from that day on, Jay seems to be everywhere. In the library when you’re cramming for exams. At the park when you’re trying to clear your head. Always there with a witty remark or a quiet offer of help.

At first, it’s annoying. Then it’s comforting. And somewhere along the way, you stop questioning it.

One night, after an exhausting week, you find yourself sitting with Jay on a park bench, sipping on hot cocoa he insisted you needed. The stars are out, the air crisp, and you can’t remember the last time you felt this... at peace.

“You’re different than I thought,” you admit, breaking the silence.

Jay raises an eyebrow. “Oh? What’d you think I was like?”

“Arrogant. Unapproachable. Too perfect to be real.”

He laughs, a low, rich sound that makes your chest tighten. “And now?”

You shrug, looking away. “Still too perfect, but... I guess I was wrong about the rest.”

When you glance back, Jay is watching you intently, his expression unreadable.

“You don’t realize how often I’ve thought the same about you,” he says quietly.

Your breath catches. “What do you mean?”

He leans closer, the space between you shrinking. His gaze flickers to your lips for just a moment before returning to your eyes.

“I mean, I’ve been waiting for an excuse to get closer to you. And I’m tired of waiting.”

Before you can process his words, he closes the gap, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss so gentle it feels like a question. Your heart races, your hands instinctively gripping the edges of your coat, but when you feel the warmth of his hand against your cheek, the world around you fades.

It’s Jay who pulls back first, his breath mingling with yours in the cool night air. “Too perfect now?” he murmurs, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “No. Just... perfect enough.”

And as he takes your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, you realize you don’t need coffee, or cocoa, or anything else to fix your day. Because for the first time in a long time, everything feels exactly as it should.

⋋⁠✿Sim Jaeyun✿⁠⋌ The late summer evening breeze sweeps through the campus courtyard as you balance a stack of books in your arms, cursing yourself for not grabbing a bag. You’re halfway across when a familiar voice calls out from behind you.

“Need some help there?”

You turn to see Jake, his golden hair catching the fading sunlight. He’s leaning casually against a nearby bench, his ever-present hoodie slung over one shoulder. You know Jake well enough to say hello in passing—your mutual friends ensure that your paths cross more often than not—but your interactions have always been polite, nothing more.

“I’ve got it,” you reply, adjusting the books.

Jake raises an eyebrow, his lips curving into a smirk. “You sure about that?”

Before you can respond, he’s already stepping forward, taking the top half of the stack from your arms. His fingers graze yours briefly, and the contact sends a jolt through you that you quickly dismiss.

“Really, I was fine,” you insist, trailing after him as he starts walking toward the library.

“Clearly,” he teases, glancing over his shoulder. “You looked totally at ease, struggling not to drop an entire semester’s worth of reading.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no bite to it. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

“Didn’t need to,” Jake replies smoothly.

The two of you walk in silence for a moment, the tension between you both oddly palpable. It’s not the first time Jake’s gone out of his way to help you, but something about this moment feels different—like the weight of unspoken words is pressing down on the air around you.

When you reach the library, Jake sets the books down on a nearby table, brushing his hands off on his jeans. “There. Crisis averted.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, feeling suddenly self-conscious under his gaze.

Jake doesn’t move, his eyes studying you like he’s debating something. Finally, he takes a step closer, the playfulness in his expression replaced by something more serious.

“You know,” he begins, his voice lower now, “you’re really bad at asking for help.”

You cross your arms, trying to mask the way your heart is suddenly racing. “I don’t see why that’s any of your business.”

“It’s my business,” Jake says, his tone firmer now, “because I care about you.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and unmistakable. Your breath catches, and you’re not sure if it’s the way he’s looking at you—like he’s been holding this in for far too long—or the fact that your heart feels like it might burst out of your chest.

“Jake...” you start, but he shakes his head, cutting you off.

“No, let me say this,” he insists, his voice softening. “I know we’re not close. I know I’m just that guy you see in passing, the one who cracks jokes and never seems to take anything seriously. But with you... it’s different. You make me want to be better. You make me feel like I can be more.”

You’re frozen in place, your mind racing as you try to process the sheer weight of his confession.

“I’ve been trying to tell myself I’m fine just watching from a distance,” he continues, his voice almost breaking.

“But I’m not. I’m not fine, and I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel this way about you.”

The tension between you is electric, the air so thick with emotion that it’s almost suffocating. Jake takes another step closer, his hand hovering near yours, as if he’s waiting for permission to close the gap.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmurs, his eyes searching yours. “I just... I needed you to know.”

You swallow hard, your heart pounding so loudly you’re sure he can hear it. “Jake, I—”

But before you can finish, the librarian’s voice cuts through the air. “Excuse me, but this is a quiet zone.”

The moment shatters, and Jake pulls back slightly, his lips curving into a sheepish smile. “Guess we’re causing a scene,” he mutters, scratching the back of his neck.

You shake your head, a small laugh escaping despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. “Yeah, we are.”

Jake looks at you for a long moment, his eyes still filled with unspoken words. “I meant what I said,” he whispers, just loud enough for you to hear. Then, with one last lingering glance, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there with your heart in your throat and your mind spinning.

And as you watch him disappear into the stacks, you realize that whatever this is—whatever it could be—you’re not ready to let it slip through your fingers.

⋋⁠✿Park Sunghoon⁠✿⁠⋌ It’s late, and the campus quad is eerily quiet except for the sound of your boots crunching against the frosty grass. You pull your coat tighter around yourself, regretting your decision to stay in the library until closing. The dim glow of the streetlights casts long shadows, and you quicken your pace.

"Walking alone this late?” a familiar voice calls out from behind you.

You turn sharply, heart skipping a beat, only to see Sunghoon leaning casually against a nearby lamppost. His breath forms a faint mist in the cold air, and his hands are shoved into the pockets of his black coat.

“Sunghoon?” you say, your voice tinged with surprise.

He straightens up, falling into step beside you. “Relax. It’s just me.”

You’ve known Sunghoon for a while now, mostly through shared classes and mutual friends. He’s always been polite, reserved even—though his quiet confidence and striking looks have earned him more than a few admirers. Still, your interactions have always been brief, nothing that would explain why he’s here now.

“What are you doing out so late?” you ask, glancing at him.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he counters, his tone light but his gaze sharp. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s dangerous to walk around alone at night?".

You roll your eyes. “I can take care of myself, thanks.”

“Maybe,” he says, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “But now you don’t have to.”

The two of you walk in silence for a while, the tension between you humming like a live wire. There’s something about the way Sunghoon moves—so self-assured yet unassuming—that makes it hard to look away.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” you say after a while.

“Do what?”

“Play the hero,” you reply, glancing at him.

He stops walking, and you’re forced to stop too, turning to face him. His expression is unreadable, but his dark eyes hold yours with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken.

“You think I’m doing this to play the hero?” he asks, his voice low, almost dangerous.

You hesitate, suddenly unsure of yourself. “I don’t know. Aren’t you?”

Sunghoon takes a step closer, closing the distance between you. His presence is overwhelming, and you find yourself rooted to the spot.

“I’m here,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, “because I wanted to see you. Because every time I see you, it’s harder to walk away. And I’m done pretending that it’s not.”

Your breath catches in your throat, the weight of his words hitting you like a tidal wave.

“Sunghoon...” you start, but he shakes his head, silencing you.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, his gaze flickering to your lips before returning to your eyes. “If this isn’t what you want, tell me, and I’ll walk away.”

You don’t say anything, your mind racing, your heart pounding. And then, instead of speaking, you step closer, bridging the gap between you.

That’s all the confirmation he needs. Sunghoon leans in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s both soft and electrifying, like the first rush of a winter storm. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, his touch warm against your chilled skin, and for a moment, the rest of the world ceases to exist.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests lightly against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the cold night air.

You smile, your heart still racing. “What took you so long?”

Sunghoon chuckles softly, his eyes glinting with a mixture of relief and something deeper. “I guess I needed to know you wouldn’t push me away.”

You shake your head, your smile widening. “Not a chance.”

And as the two of you stand there under the dim streetlight, the frost on the grass glittering around you, it feels like the start of something neither of you can—or want to—turn back from.

⋋⁠✿Kim Sunoo⁠✿⁠⋌ The campus is quiet, the kind of stillness that feels unnatural. You’ve been in the library for hours, buried in notes and textbooks, your mind drifting in and out of focus. It’s been a long day, and you’re ready to head home, but as you step out of the building into the evening chill, you’re met with an unexpected sight—Sunoo, sitting on a bench under the dim light of a streetlamp, his eyes trained on the starless sky.

You stop in your tracks, unsure if you should interrupt him. You’ve never been particularly close, and yet, for some reason, you always find yourself caught in his orbit. He’s always been kind, that easy smile never far from his lips, but there’s something about him that feels distant—a warmth that’s almost unreachable.

He notices you standing there, and his expression shifts, that usual playful grin softening.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you ask, your voice breaking the silence.

Sunoo looks up, his gaze locking with yours. “More like couldn’t stop thinking,” he replies, his voice quieter than usual.

You hesitate, moving closer to the bench. “About what?”

Sunoo shifts to make room, patting the spot next to him. You sit down, careful not to let your shoulder brush his, though it feels almost impossible not to.

“It’s... complicated,” he says after a long pause, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve.

You turn to face him, the tension between you thickening. You know he’s been quieter lately, as if something is weighing on his mind. There’s a softness to him now, an unspoken vulnerability that draws you in even more.

“You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready,” you offer gently.

Sunoo smiles faintly, shaking his head. “No, I think... I think it’s time I said it.”

You wait, your heart beginning to race as he looks down, as if trying to find the right words. His usual confidence is replaced by uncertainty, and it’s unsettling to see him like this.

“I’ve been holding back,” he starts slowly, “because I didn’t want to make things complicated. But I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel this way.”

You swallow, unsure if you want to hear what’s coming next. The air feels charged, like something big is about to happen, but you're unsure if you're ready to face it.

“I think I’ve liked you for longer than I realized,” Sunoo confesses, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I was scared. Scared of what it would mean. Scared of ruining whatever we have.”

Your breath hitches, the words sinking in deeper than you expected. You open your mouth to respond, but no words come out. It’s almost too much to process. Sunoo, always the cheerful and outgoing one, the guy who can make anyone laugh, is standing there—vulnerable and open in a way you’ve never seen before.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he says, looking at you earnestly. “I just... needed you to know.”

The weight of his confession presses down on you, and you can feel the tension between you like a palpable force. His eyes are wide, searching yours for a reaction, and for the first time, you realize how much you’ve been holding back as well.

“I don’t know what to say,” you admit, your voice trembling slightly.

Sunoo nods, a small, bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. “You don’t have to say anything. I just needed to tell you.”

You both sit in silence, the night growing colder around you, but you don’t move. The quiet between you now feels comfortable, as though you’ve just crossed an invisible line that neither of you can go back from.

Finally, Sunoo stands up, stretching his arms above his head. “I’ll see you around,” he says, his usual carefree tone returning, but there’s still a tenderness in his eyes.

You nod, watching him walk away, your heart a tangled mess of emotions. But as the silence settles in once more, you realize that his confession has changed something between you. It’s not just the words; it’s the way you feel the truth of them, how everything suddenly feels clearer, even if it’s still uncertain "I like you too!!!", you shout. He turns, grinning widely and genuinely.

And maybe, just maybe, it’s the beginning of something that neither of you are ready to define yet—but both of you know will be impossible to forget.

⋋⁠✿Yang Jungwon⁠✿⁠⋌ The early morning sun casts a soft golden light across the campus as you step out of the dorm, a cup of coffee in hand to start your day. The campus is quieter than usual, the early risers having already started their routines, and the air is crisp with the promise of a new day.

As you make your way toward the main building, you spot Jungwon sitting on one of the benches by the fountain. The sunlight catches in his hair, giving him an almost ethereal glow, and for a moment, he seems completely absorbed in the world around him. His hands are tucked into the pockets of his jacket, and his gaze is focused on the morning sky, his features soft and contemplative.

You pause for a moment, unsure if you should interrupt his peace, but then you find yourself walking toward him anyway.

"Jungwon?" You call out, voice hesitant

He blinks, looking up with a slight surprise before his lips curl into a small, genuine smile. “Hey, you’re up early,” he says, his voice still carrying the remnants of sleepiness but also warmth.

You offer a small smile in return, shrugging. “Yeah, I’ve got a busy day ahead. I thought I’d grab some coffee before the rush.”

“Smart choice,” he says, patting the space beside him on the bench. “Want to sit for a bit?”

You sit down beside him, wrapping your hands around the warmth of your coffee cup. There’s a calmness in the air now, the world slowly waking up around you. And for a moment, you simply sit in silence, the sound of birds chirping and the faint rustle of leaves the only noise.

“You’ve been quiet this morning,” you remark, glancing at Jungwon, who’s still staring off into the distance.

He shifts slightly, as if he’s just now realizing how still he’s been. “I guess I’ve just been thinking a lot,” he admits, his voice softer than usual.

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “About what?”

Jungwon’s gaze drifts to the ground for a moment, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his jacket. There’s a hesitation there, a vulnerability in his posture that you don’t often see.

“It’s... about us,” he says quietly, his voice carrying an honesty that you’re not used to hearing from him.

Your heart skips a beat at his words. “Us?”

He turns his head slightly to face you, his eyes catching yours. “Yeah,” he says, his voice low. “I’ve been thinking about you. A lot more than I should, probably. I wasn’t sure if I should say anything, but... I think it’s time I do.”

You feel a knot form in your stomach, the air between you thick with unspoken tension. Jungwon, who’s always been so composed and in control, now seems different. There’s a vulnerability to him now that makes your heart race.

"I don’t want to make things complicated,” he continues, his voice almost a whisper. “But I can’t keep pretending like I don’t feel this way. I think about you all the time, and I just... I need you to know that.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, you don’t know what to say. Jungwon has always been the calm and collected one, the friend who makes everyone feel at ease. But this side of him, the side that’s unsure and uncertain, catches you off guard.

You turn to face him, the warmth of your coffee forgotten in your hands. “Jungwon, I—”

Before you can finish, he’s already leaning in, his eyes searching yours for a hint of whether you’re okay with this. There’s no hesitation this time, no second-guessing. Jungwon closes the gap between you, and his lips meet yours in a gentle, tentative kiss. It’s soft, barely there, but it holds so much meaning. A confession in the quiet of the morning, the warmth of his lips lingering even after the kiss is over.

When he pulls back, there’s a faint blush on his cheeks, and he looks at you with wide, uncertain eyes. “I hope that wasn’t too much,” he says, his voice soft, like he’s afraid of pushing you away.

You take a deep breath, your heart racing in your chest, and smile softly. “No, it wasn’t. It’s just... I’ve been thinking about you too.”

His expression softens, a genuine smile slowly spreading across his face. “Really?” he asks, his voice filled with quiet relief.

You nod, feeling the warmth spreading through your chest. “Really.”

Jungwon lets out a breath of relief, his smile widening. “I’m glad. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but this is definitely better than I thought.”

You laugh softly, feeling the weight of the tension between you ease. “I think we’ve both been a little unsure of how to handle this, huh?”

“Yeah,” he admits, chuckling lightly. “But I’m glad it’s out there now.”

And as the two of you sit together on the bench, the sun rises higher in the sky, you both realize that whatever comes next, it’s the start of something new—something neither of you were expecting, but both of you are willing to embrace.

⋋⁠✿Nishimura Riki✿⁠⋌ The morning sun spills through the windows of the campus café as you sit by the large glass wall, the warmth of the light casting a soft glow over your book and coffee. You’ve been coming here a lot lately, needing a quiet escape from the chaos of classes and the constant buzz of campus life.

Today, however, something feels different. You glance up from your book as the door chimes open, and in walks Niki. His usual carefree energy is a little more subdued today, and the way his eyes scan the room before locking on you is enough to make your heart skip a beat.

Niki doesn’t usually come to this café in the mornings; he’s more of an afternoon kind of person, where his energy seems boundless. But today, he steps toward your table, hesitating for a moment, like he’s trying to decide whether to say something.

“Mind if I join you?” he asks, his voice quieter than usual. You notice the way his eyes avoid yours for a split second, a hint of uncertainty in his usually confident demeanor.

“Of course,” you reply, your heart inexplicably racing. You shift your things aside to make room for him, and he sits across from you, his usual grin missing, replaced by a soft, thoughtful expression.

For a few moments, there’s an awkward silence between you. You’re used to Niki being playful, always cracking jokes, always full of energy, but today, he seems almost... hesitant.

“You okay?” you ask, unable to ignore the change in his vibe.

He looks up at you, his lips curling slightly, but it’s not his usual carefree smile. It’s almost as if he’s considering something deeply before he answers. “Yeah, just thinking about stuff.”

“Stuff?” you raise an eyebrow. “What kind of stuff?”

He runs a hand through his hair, his gaze dropping to the table as he seems to lose himself in thought again. “Just... everything, I guess. People. Life.” His voice is softer now, like he’s choosing his words carefully. “And you.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you can feel the shift in the air. Niki doesn’t usually speak like this, especially about you.

“Me?” you repeat, trying to keep your voice steady, but the way he says it makes your heart race even faster.

He nods, his gaze lifting to meet yours again. This time, it feels like he’s looking at you in a way that’s different—more intense, more meaningful. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot recently. About how you’re always there, and how I’ve always been able to talk to you. You’re... different, you know? I think I’ve started feeling more than just the friendship thing.”

Your stomach flips, and your words get caught in your throat. You’ve always had a soft spot for Niki—his charm, his humor, his way of making everything feel effortless. But this... this confession feels like it’s pulling you into something much deeper than you expected.

“You’re telling me this now?” you ask, trying to keep your voice light, but your heart is pounding in your chest.

Niki looks at you for a long moment, as if he’s debating something in his mind. Then, he leans forward slightly, his hands folding on the table. His usual playful demeanor is gone, replaced by something more raw, more vulnerable.

“I know I’ve always acted like I was the one who had it all figured out,” he says, his voice quiet, but his eyes focused on you. “But the truth is... I’ve been a little scared.”

“Scared?” You lean forward, trying to make sense of what he’s saying. “Scared of what?”

“Scared of how much you mean to me,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper now. “Scared of how I might mess things up. I don’t want to ruin what we have, but I can’t ignore it anymore.”

The air is thick with tension now. You feel your heart beat faster, not from fear, but from something else—something electric.

“Niki, I—”

But before you can finish your sentence, he reaches across the table, his fingers brushing against yours. The warmth of his touch is enough to make your pulse spike, and your words falter as you meet his gaze.

“I don’t want to hide this anymore,” he says, his voice steady but full of the emotion he’s been holding back. “I like you. More than just as a friend. And I had to tell you, even if it’s scary.”

You sit there for a moment, the world around you seeming to slow down. Niki, the guy who’s always been the center of attention, always so full of life, is now sitting in front of you, vulnerable and open in a way you’ve never seen before.

And in that moment, you realize that maybe, just maybe, you’ve been feeling the same way.

You don’t need words anymore. Without thinking, you reach for his hand, your fingers intertwining with his. It’s simple, but it feels like everything you’ve been too scared to say is being communicated in this single, quiet touch.

Niki’s eyes soften, and a slow, genuine smile spreads across his face. “I was worried you wouldn’t feel the same,” he admits, his voice a little breathless.

You smile, squeezing his hand gently. “I think we’ve both been scared of the same thing.”

And as you sit there, hands locked together, the morning light shining through the window, you realize that this is the start of something new. Something that doesn’t need words, but something you’re both willing to explore together.

HOPE YOU ENJOYED POOKIESSSS 💞✨💞

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[whosscruffylooking]

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ The Beginning of Us- Chapter 6 ᖭི༏ᖫྀ

Joel Miller x Fem! Reader warnings: mentions of death word count: 3.6k Series Masterlist

The journey to Bill and Frank’s is lengthy, the hush between the three of you weightier than the packs on your shoulders. Before setting off, Joel laid down the rules: no mention of Tess, Ellie was to follow instructions without question, and no digging into each other’s pasts. His tone left no room for negotiation.

You’d stopped briefly at an old convenience store Joel and Tess used to use for supplies, then passed a decrepit airplane that left Ellie wide-eyed with curiosity. But the awe was short-lived; the journey soon took you to an old dumping ground where infected and healthy alike were discarded in a futile government attempt to contain the outbreak. The sight left you all quieter than before.

Now, as you near Bill and Frank’s isolated town, the road stretches ahead, the silence only broken by the crunch of boots on gravel. You peek at Joel and decide to break the silence.

“You know,” you begin tentatively, “I worked with Bill and Frank.”

Joel doesn’t look at you but responds after a moment, his voice flat. “I know.”

That catches you off guard. “You knew?”

He nods, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. “That’s how I always knew you were still around.”

You stop walking for a moment, the significance of his words sinking in. “Really?”

Joel slows but doesn’t turn to face you. “I told Frank about you once,” he admits quietly, almost like the confession pains him. “He made Bill confirm that you were one of their contacts.” He pauses, his voice dropping even lower. “They wouldn’t tell me much. Just whether you were safe.”

The way he says it—like he’s ashamed to admit he cared enough to ask—hits you harder than it should. For years, you’d convinced yourself he never looked back, that whatever connection you once had was lost to time and tragedy. And yet here he is, admitting he’d kept track of you in his own subdued, stubborn way.

“I didn’t know,” you say faintly, unsure what else to offer.

Joel shrugs, his shoulders stiff. “Didn’t need to.”

The silence returns, but now it feels different, less smothering. For the first time in a long while, you see a hint of the man you used to know beneath the layers of resentment and misery. It’s fleeting, but it’s there. 

As you approach the gate, apprehension settles over you. The calmness isn’t comforting—it’s overpowering, almost unnatural. Joel seems to sense it too, he tilts his head as his eyes scan the surroundings.

You punch in the code for the gate, and Joel lets out a scoff behind you.

“What?” you ask, your eyes darting back at him.

“Frank told me Bill only trusted one other person with his codes,” Joel comments, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “But he never said who it was. Of course, it’s you.”

A blush spreads across your cheeks as Joel’s words settle in, heat rushing to your face. Even after all these years, threads of connection between you and Joel have stayed, fragile but unchanged.

As you near the house, the uneasiness grows stronger. The plants near the porch are wilted, and untended. The stillness feels too stale, too grave. Joel steps ahead of you and tests the front door. It swings open effortlessly.

The two of you exchange a glance. Bill would never leave the front door unlocked—not here, not even in his town.

Stepping cautiously inside, the smell of stale air and melted wax hits you immediately. Candles, long burned out, sit on a chest in the hallway. The atmosphere is eerie, suffused with a hushed foreboding.

“Bill? Frank?” Joel’s voice echoes through the house. No response.

Joel gestures toward the dining room, and you follow. The table is still set from their last meal, the remnants of food and wine scattered across it. Your eyes drift to the wine glasses—something about them feels off. The realization scratches at the edge of your mind, but you can’t quite grasp it.

“Stay here,” Joel murmurs, his voice reserved.

Ellie, oblivious to the strain, drifts into the living room and starts tinkering lightly with the piano. You hesitate for a moment before making your way down the hallway to a small room at the end. The door is shut.

You knock lightly. No answer.

With a deep breath, you test the handle. It doesn’t budge at first, but a slight push causes a small draft to slip through the crack. From behind you, the front door slams shut, the sound reverberating through the house. For several moments you stand there, the color quickly draining from your face.

Joel steps up beside you, his gaze instantly narrowing as he takes in the flush on your face, his expression a mix of concern and yet confirmation.

You whisper, your voice quivering, “Bill would’ve left something.”

Without waiting for Joel to respond, you push past him, your heart pounding as you scan the house for any kind of clue. You rush back into the dining room, your movements frantic, and that’s when you see Ellie.

She’s holding a piece of paper in her hands, her eyes wide and uncharacteristically solemn.

“It's from Bill,” she says, her voice barely audible.

Your stomach drops, but you’re eager to hear the letter’s contents, bracing yourself for whatever truths it holds.

Ellie glances between you and Joel, the letter trembling slightly in her hands. “It says, ‘To whomever… but probably Joel.’ I figured I fell under ‘whomever,’” she shrugs. Then, she pushes a truck key across the table toward you and Joel.

Joel sighs heavily, slipping his backpack off before reaching for the key. “So, they’re dead?”

Ellie nods, humming an affirmative, her usual bravado noticeably absent.

Joel’s shoulders sag, and he looks back at you. For a moment, he seems older—worn down by the weight of yet another loss.

“Do you… do you wanna?” Ellie offers the letter to him, her voice hesitant.

Joel shakes his head, his tone dull and void of emotion. “Go ahead. You do it.”

Ellie glances at you as if asking for permission. You nod, urging her to continue.

She clears her throat and begins to read.

“August 29, 2003: If you find this… please do not come into the bedroom. We left a window open so the house wouldn’t smell, but it will probably be a sight. I’m guessing you found this, Joel, because anyone else would’ve been electrocuted or blown up by one of my traps. Hehehehehehehehe. Take anything you need. The bunker code is the same as the gate code but in reverse. Anyway… I never liked you, but still, it’s like we’re friends…almost. And I respect you. So, I’m gonna tell you something because you’re probably the only person who will understand.

I used to hate the world, and I was happy when everyone died. But I was wrong because there was one person worth saving. That’s what I did. I saved him. Then I protected him.”

Joel’s eyes drift to yours without thinking, his gaze easing with an ache that’s impossible to ignore. The words are hitting him in ways he won’t admit. They’re a reminder of everything he’s lost—Sarah, Tess, you. Bill and Frank had managed to build a life, to hold onto love, while Joel had let bitterness harden him into someone else entirely.

Ellie continues reading, her voice collected but weighty with the importance of Bill’s words.

“That’s why men like you and me are here. We have a job to do. And God help anyone who stands in our way. I leave you all of my weapons and equipment. Use them to keep…”

Ellie falters, her voice fading.

Joel steps forward and takes the letter from her hands, his movements abrupt. He scans the page, his emotionless persona crumbles when he reaches the final words: “…to keep Tess safe.”

Joel’s breath hitches. His grip on the paper tightens as his thoughts spiral. He failed. He failed to keep Tess safe. He failed to keep Sarah safe. He failed you. Every effort he’s made to protect someone has ended in loss.

“Stay here,” he says abruptly to Ellie, his voice hoarse. Before anyone can stop him, he storms out the door, leaving you and Ellie behind.

The fresh air does little to calm the storm inside him. Joel stumbles into the yard, his chest heaving, the world spinning around him. The letter is crumpled in his hands, but something catches his eye. In the sunlight, he notices faint writing on the back of the page.

He flips it over, his hands trembling, and finds more of Bill’s words.

“42.369042, -71.039714. These are Y/N’s last known coordinates. She’s near Boston. Go find her. If you’re even half as lucky as me to find someone who makes life worth living, don’t screw it up this time. You already lost her once—why do it again? I wish you could see her now. You’d probably want to kill each other at first, and honestly, I’d pay to watch that. But it’s just because you’re both too damn stubborn. Once you get over yourselves and face the truth, maybe you won’t have to grow old and bitter alone. Take it from me—being an asshole is bad enough. Being an asshole alone? Worse. Way worse.”

Joel stares at the letter, the weight of Bill’s words settling in. His hold on the paper tightens, his knuckles whitening as he lets out a unstable breath. He looks over his shoulder toward the house, where he knows you’re standing just inside. The irony isn’t lost on him—Bill wrote this thinking you were still out there, and yet, here you are, closer than he ever could’ve imagined. Bill’s stubborn faith in Joel feels like both a gift and a curse.

Looking back down at the letter, a faint, almost resentful chuckle escapes under his breath. “You’d get a kick outta this, Bill,” he mutters, his voice low. “She’s here. She’s standing right there. And I’m the idiot standing out here reading your damn letter like a fool.”

Joel’s jaw tightens as he feels a lump form in his throat. He folds the letter carefully, almost reverently, and tucks it into his jacket. His chest feels heavy, but it’s not just grief—it’s something more complex. Regret. Guilt. Fear. And maybe, just maybe, hope.

He turns his gaze back toward the house, squinting slightly as if he might catch a glimpse of you through the window. The thought of Bill watching this unfold makes his stomach churn. “You always did like to twist the knife,” Joel murmurs.

Taking a deep breath, he forces his feet to move, his boots crunching against the dirt as he heads toward the front door. He’s not sure what he’s going to say to you when he walks back in. He’s not even sure he can say anything at all. But one thing’s certain: Bill was right—Joel couldn’t afford to lose you again

Joel steps back into the house, his boots heavy against the wooden floor. Ellie is sprawled out in the living room, fiddling with a small trinket she’s found. She barely looks up as he enters.

“Where’s Y/N?” he asks, his voice gruff but low.

“She went to take a shower,” Ellie replies without missing a beat, twirling the object in her hands. Then, almost offhandedly, she adds, “She really cares about you.”

Joel freezes mid-step, his brow furrowing. “What?”

Ellie glances up at him, unfazed. “I mean, it’s obvious. She was watching you out there. I could tell she was hurting for you.”

Joel shifts uncomfortably, glancing toward the stairs where the faint sound of running water filters down. His jaw tightens, and he looks away, his throat working around words he can’t seem to say.

Ellie watches him with an amused tilt to her head. “You should go up there,” she says, nodding toward the stairs.

Joel shoots her a look—half disbelief, half warning. “What’re you talkin’ about?”

Ellie just shrugs, standing and stretching. “I’m just saying, it’s not like she hates you or anything. She’s up there, you’re down here. Seems kinda dumb to just… stay here.” She smirks. “But what do I know, right?”

Joel glares at her, though there’s no real heat in it. Ellie grins wider.

“Point taken,” she says, backing off with a mock salute, leaving him standing there, staring at the stairs like they’re a cliff he’s got to climb.

»»————————-««

You wring out your damp hair with the towel, rummaging through the bathroom drawers in search of a brush. The gentle knock at the bedroom door startles you, and you quickly cross the room to answer it. Standing there is Joel. His eyes flick over you briefly—taking in the too-tight tank top you’d scrounged up from the closet and the jeans clinging to you like a second skin. He clears his throat, abruptly looking away.

“We, uh—we gathered supplies. Guns, ammo. I’m charging the car battery now,” he says, his voice gruff and a little rushed.

“Perfect,” you reply, offering him a small smile.

There’s a pause—a hushed moment that lasts far too long. Neither of you moves.

“Do you mind if I, uh—if I…” Joel trails off, bumbling over his words as he nods toward the bathroom.

“Oh! Of course,” you feel embarrassed, but you step aside. “Come in.”

He wavers for a beat, then walks past you into the bathroom. The door shuts behind him, leaving you alone in the room.

You exhale slowly, and your pulse drums in your ears, obstructing all other sounds. But it’s not fear. It’s something else entirely. Anticipation, maybe. Or guilt. And beneath it all, the ache of memory—the way it felt to be close to him once, without walls between you, without reluctance or barriers. Back when it was easy to ask for what you needed: his steady arms, his warmth, the safety only he could offer.

But those days feel like a luxury you can no longer afford.

You hear Joel turn the water on for the shower, and the sound feels oddly intimate, tugging at a place in your chest you’ve tried to ignore. You fall onto the bed, covering your face with a pillow as you fight the surge of emotions building inside. You know there’s something you should do—something you’ve carried with you for years—but you’re unsure if now is the right time.

After a moment, you sit up and draw in a steadying breath. The quiet house feels more solemn than it should. Grabbing your backpack, you pull it into your lap, but before you can open it, you hear Ellie’s voice faintly from downstairs. You stand and step into the hall, peeking over the banister.

“Ellie?” you call out, leaning over the railing.

“Yeah?” Her voice drifts back up, distracted, likely focused on whatever she’s fiddling with now.

“You doing okay down there?” you ask, more for the sake of grounding yourself than anything else.

“Peachy,” she reacts, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “But if you’re asking so I don’t burn the place down, we’re good. For now.”

A soothing chuckle escapes your lips despite yourself. “Just don’t touch anything sharp,” you say, earning a distant, “No promises.”

Shaking your head, you step back into the bedroom, closing the door behind you. You lean against it for a moment, letting out a sluggish exhale. The sound of the water running in the bathroom hums in the background, and you can’t help but feel how surreal it is, sharing space with Joel again after all these years.

Finally, you pull yourself together and return to the bed, digging into your backpack. You rifle through its contents, searching for the item that has weighed heavy in your possession for so long. Your fingers brush against it, and you pull it out, your head pounds with anticipation at the sight of it. It’s aged and weathered, a relic of a time you’ve spent the last two decades trying to outrun.

The water stops. Your head snaps up, panic rising as you realize Joel will be out any second. You quickly set the item on your lap, your heart hammering in expectation. The door to the bathroom creaks open, and Joel steps out, his hair damp and his shirt clinging slightly to his still-wet skin. He pauses when he sees you sitting there, his brow furrowing at the look on your face.

“Joel,” you murmur, your voice thin and unsure.

He glances at you, then down at the item in your lap. His eyes dilate, burdened with confusion and despair.

“Can you come here for a second?” you request softly, barely managing to find your voice.

Joel pauses, standing in place as though considering the decision. After a long moment, he walks to the bed, lowering himself to sit beside you. The mattress dips under his weight, and the proximity of him—the heat of his body, the faint scent of soap clinging to his skin—only makes your chest feel tighter.

You squeeze the item in your hands, your fingers quivering. The words you’ve practiced over and over again for 20 years suddenly seem out of reach. Tears prick your eyes, the weight of everything you’ve carried threatening to spill over. Now that the moment is here, you feel completely unprepared.

“That day,” you start, your voice shaking, “when everything quieted down, I was wandering around looking for help. I knew I needed to get out of the town, so I found this field…” Your words catch in your throat, a lump forming that makes it almost impossible to continue.

Joel shifts beside you, his body tense. He knows what’s coming, and that knowledge feels like a blade twisting deeper into him.

“That’s when I found—” You choke on the words, gasping for air as the tears you’ve been holding back spill over. You can’t bring yourself to look at him, not when you’re this raw, this exposed.

“I know we said we wouldn’t talk about our past,” you say through the sobs threatening to drown you. “And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, but I’ve waited 20 years to do this. And if this is the last moment of peace we get—if this is the only time we’re not running from those things—then I’ll be damned if I don’t say this now.”

Joel’s jaw tenses, his eyes glistening, like polished amber, as he struggles to keep himself composed. He nods, urging you silently to go on, his own pain mirrored in yours.

“I found her, Joel.” The words shatter the air between you. “I could barely walk, but I—I don’t even know how I managed it. I got to her as fast as I could. And I just held her. I held her so tight, like I thought maybe, just maybe, if I held on hard enough, she’d come back to me.”

You break, your body shuddering as you lean forward, clutching at the memory like it’s something physical tearing through you. Joel muffles a sob, his hand rising just barely as though he wants to comfort you but is too afraid to touch you, too consumed by his own grief.

“I don’t know how long I stayed there with her,” you continue, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I couldn’t leave her, Joel. I couldn’t. The sun started coming up, and that’s when I saw it—something reflecting the light in the grass. It was your watch.”

Joel’s breath hitches audibly, his head dropping as his hand instinctively moves to his wrist where the broken watch should have been.

“I took it with me,” you admit, your voice cracking. “Joel, there hasn’t been a single day—not one day—that I haven’t looked at it. It’s been my reminder of everything we lost. Of her. Of you. Of the life we’ll never get back.”

Your words trail off as the room falls silent, the essence of the memory crashing down on both of you like an unbearable current. For a moment, the two of you are simply there—two broken souls mourning the same loss, bound by a pain neither of you can escape.

Joel stares at you, his breath coming in uneven bursts. He doesn’t speak at first, just wipes at his face with the back of his hand, his fingers leaving streaks where the tears have begun to fall. The ache in his eyes is so raw, it’s almost suffocating.

You shakily offer him the watch, your hand trembling as it extends toward him. His hand meets yours, reluctant at first, staying for a moment as if he’s afraid to take it. The brief contact sends a jolt through you, something you’ve only dreamed about for years, a feeling you thought was long buried deep within.

Bill’s words echo in Joel’s mind, a harsh reminder that the bitterness isn’t worth holding onto, not anymore.

After a long delay, he speaks, his voice raw, fragile. “I’m just… I’m grateful you got to hold her.” His words break the silence, cutting through the heaviness in the room. Tears fall from his eyes, unbidden and silent, as though he can’t stop them now.

Without thinking, your hand reaches up to wipe them away. It’s a small gesture, but it feels monumental as if you’re touching something that’s been locked away for far too long.

Joel looks at you, his expression a mix of surprise and something deeper—vulnerable, tender. He leans into your touch without realizing it, his body finally letting go of years of unspoken pain.

Neither of you says anything more. The weight of what’s been shared, of what’s been held back, is more than enough. In that moment, the silence between you is not just a void, but a fragile bond, something neither of you ever expected to find again.

»»————————-««

Taglist: @si1versamurai @eaterof-concrete @mysteriouslyperfecttiger

[transmutationisms]

last night a friend of mine had delirium tremens from stopping drinking too soon, and so we took him to the hospital, where he was given benzos and weirdly antipsychotics even though he wasn't hallucinating, only mildly confused. Less than 10 hours had gone by, but the tremors weren't getting better, so the doctors arranged a transfer to a bigger hospital and when I questioned why it had to be a psych hospital, they said he needed an ICU and psychs to monitor him because they knew better what medication to give. I doubt it very much but we had to accept it since he needed an ICU and that was the only place that would take him so quickly. Turns out it was merely a psych institution with no ICU at all in the middle of bumfuck nowhere where they would just give him benzos just like in the hospital. By then he was much better, but they kept insisting he needed to be there because his condition (a likely FATAL one, DT) was not mainly physiological, but psychiatric. ha ha ha. They were adamant he had to be admitted to go through rehab because it was the only way and kept brushing off our qualms and claims that he had been admitted before and traumatized. Refused to let us see him, refused to prescribe benzos to take home. Then refused to open up the gates so we could leave, even once we had signed off papers taking responsibility if he came to pass. We were only able to leave because a doctor also needed to leave and we left with him when they had to open the gates for his car. He survived the night but everyone tried to fool us into institutionalizing him. The doctor in the first hospital lied to us, she said he needed an ICU and the psych hospital had an ICU, she said it wasn't a place were people were institutionalized, and it was. It's sick how much everyone said he had a psych condition and thus needed psych treatment even though we weren't there to treat his alcoholism, because the guy had DELIRIUM TREMENS and that's a very dangerous condition. Yes, let's send him to useless psychs instead of keeping him a normal, better equipped hospital. They just imposed their view that he needed rehab. I'm so mad psychiatry even exists.

god im sorry they did that to him. was it by chance a for-profit psych hospital?

you seem to know this already but DT is no joke, so if he doesn't want to deal with hospitals in the future (understandable), do some research and stock up on supplies yourselves. those doctors should be shot & your friend is extremely lucky he was even able to sneak out like that 😭

[distant-velleity]

LMAO i lied im answering all these at once. woohoo!

(warning for VERY unreliable narration in certain questions)

1. Does your OC have parents or family in the AU? If not, what is their current living situation?

“That’s kind of personal, isn’t it? Well, good thing you asked me, the most normal person here. Kidding, kidding.”

Yuhua lives with his parents right now. His sister, an alumnus of the school, is away at university. They are a perfectly happy family. There is nothing wrong. Nothing. 

(Yuhua lives with an emotionally manipulative mother and conservative father, and returns to a dysfunctional household that is filled with silence, phone calls, or arguments every day. Of course, he would never admit any of this to anyone but his friends, and even then nothing more than a slight hint or complaint that tells nothing of the bigger picture. Yuhua himself is not in the best mental state as a result, due to placing pressure on himself to perform well so his parents don’t get on his case, and he maintains a thin thread of control on his demeanor.)

2. What are their thoughts on Quartz?

“She looks kind of lonely… I feel bad. No wonder she’s so into… Oops! That’s not my thing to tell. But I do think she could benefit from some friends.”

The quote is probably self-explanatory of what he thinks (assuming he hasn’t caught her doing anything suspicious, and has only ever seen her pretend to fawn over Azul). He recognizes that she’s always alone, but he’s also like. World’s worst introvert trying to masquerade as world’s worst extrovert, so… he hasn’t (yet) taken any steps to make the first move and interact with her. It probably doesn’t help that it looks like neither of them bother with more than small talk with others.

3. What is their thoughts and relationship with Azul? How did they meet Azul?

“That guy? …Doesn’t it seem like he’s suddenly got a lot of admirers nowadays? I mean, I can see the appeal—hardworking, intelligent… But I don’t think I could ever date anyone on the student council. Guess those guys can shoot their shots if they want.”

If you couldn’t tell from the quote, he… thinks middlingly of Azul, and has like 0 romantic interest in him at all lol. Of course, Yuhua respects anyone with good grades and good conduct, of which Azul meets all the criteria, but that’s it. I wouldn’t say he ever met Azul so much as he’s heard of him (what with being in the same year and Azul being on the student council), and seen him around. 

4. What are their relationships with other characters/OCs?

About Floyd:

“...That guy. There’s no point in associating myself with him.”

(if this is okay) They’ve been in the same class for two years in a row now, purely by chance. Yuhua knows him as the careless, genius lackey of Azul. His disorderly and sometimes disrespectful conduct only grates Yuhua when there’s something that needs to be done, but otherwise Yuhua would be content to let him live his life and let their paths never cross. Even that one time he went into the gym after club activities to practice his lines and saw Floyd practicing his basketball skills non-stop—Even when Floyd puts in the work to pass a test almost effortlessly, then decides the next one isn’t worth the nonexistent effort—Even when Floyd is free to do whatever he wants, his actions and comments constantly broadening Yuhua’s restricted worldview—Even… when…

…even when Yuhua’s nursing something of a hopeless, helpless crush on him. And that’s it. It’s no fairytale love, it’s no novel-worthy romance. It’ll never take flight—Yuhua will take this secret with him to the grave because of that. He knows he’s not enough to catch and keep Floyd’s attention; at most he’s just a classmate who Floyd thinks it’s funny to talk to and annoy sometimes because he tries to look like a goody-two-shoes in a less angry way than Riddle.

“It’s not a crush, because I won’t get that crushing disappointment when he finds out and is disgusted by my very existence.”

About Vizzie ( @twistedwonderlandshenanigans ):

“...She’s got a good heart.”

They’re… friends. Acquaintances. Something. Does he really know how to define it? Now that Vizzie doesn’t care as much about her grades and Yuhua’s just went on to prioritize himself, or something, what was probably a friendship has… not stayed a friendship. He goes on with his reputation-building act, while she does her own thing. Yeah. Yeah—He’s fine with it. It’s what they both want, and he’s not going to interfere with her choices. It’s fine. Right? (He doesn’t want to think about it.)

It definitely doesn’t bother him that now that she’s “fallen off” and protected herself with a poor reputation, she seems… more free. It ABSOLUTELY does not bother him that she’s such easy “friends” with Floyd. It doesn’t bother him that unlike with Floyd, everything about Vizzie’s day-to-day existence and circumstances proves that something is inherently wrong with Yuhua himself. It doesn’t bother him that her everything proves that everything about him, from personality to looks to grades, is inferior and unlikeable. It doesn’t bother him that, because she’s so closed-off now, the unspoken truth is that he wasn’t enough for something like an actual friendship. It. Doesn’t. Bother. Him. 

About Riddle:

“...Oh, that guy.”

Sure, he can respect someone like Riddle. Someone who’s at the top of their class, is on the student council—Yeah, sure, whatever. It’s because of people like him that Yuhua doesn’t try too hard, anyway. It just isn’t fun. It’s not worth his time, to be constantly outclassed. And his attitude, too—part of the reason Yuhua would never run for student council. If he was aware of Riddle’s situation, he’d be more sympathetic, but as things are he just can’t quite stand Riddle’s attitude. 

Let overachievers have their fun, is Yuhua’s opinion. He’s fine to be a middling fish in a small pond while people like Riddle try to be big fish. They’re fellow second-years, but that doesn’t mean they have to care about each other. They probably don’t interact much on a meaningful level because of Riddle’s duties and Yuhua’s opinions, and if they do—it’s Yuhua being polite and saying all the things Riddle wants to hear.

(if you’re willing to establish OC dynamics, let me know and I can add Yuhua’s thoughts here! I just don’t like to add/conceptualize dynamics with canon characters because I’m scared of stepping on toes abkjsdkfgjskfd)

5. What grade/year is your OC?

“I’m part of the worst year, in case you’re wondering. Hehe. Just kidding.”

Aging him up by just one year for this AU— He’s 17, a second-year. 

6. What is your OCs goal for the school year or in life?

“Goals? Eh… Passing this year with the best grades I can get.”

He doesn’t have any true goals, and it makes him anxious. His main objective is just… passing the school year, staying on good terms with everyone… That’s it. It’s all very short-term, school-related. He doesn’t have enough faith in himself to actually achieve a long-term life goal.

“As for life? Ask me again in, like… a year.” 

7. Your OC is being framed for murder of another student by Quartz, how does your OC react to that? Does your OC know it's Quartz?

“...What? This is ridiculous. Do you just accept any kind of evidence nowadays? …No. Don’t answer that. Sorry. But I know I’m innocent.”

Yuhua is counting on others to vouch for him, both for an alibi and for his character; it’s situations like these that are the reason why he’s so intent on networking and maintaining good relationships with everyone. Knowing that his future and record are on the line, he’s absolutely going to plead his case however he can, trying to argue about the evidence, et cetera…

“Isn’t there anyone else who could have been responsible? In fact…”

If he’s ever caught Quartz doing something suspicious, he’s definitely throwing her under the bus now. If people grill him for not reporting it right away, well…

“I was just—scared at the time, you know? I didn’t know what she was going to do to me if I tattled… I’m really sorry, but what matters is that I’m the one telling the truth now.”

This might be one of the rare situations where people see him genuinely lose the easygoing act.

8. Your OC notices Quartz carrying a weapon in her skirt pocket. That's strange since the female school uniforms don't have skirt pockets. Does your OC report this?

“Huh? Pockets? What pockets? I didn’t see anything.”

He’ll turn a blind eye, unless there’s a situation wherein he can actually benefit from reporting her. 

“In any case… It’s not my business right now. Let people do what people want as long as it doesn’t affect me, yeah?”

9. Where is your OC usually with or at during school? Classes? With Azul? Skipping class? Where do they eat lunch?

“Come on, don’t ask me questions like that. I’m only ever where I should be.”

Yuhua always goes to class, and always shows up on time. He has people he can’t disappoint, even himself. When he’s not in class, he’s (usually) in the drama club room; before classes start for the day, at lunch, and so on.  

10. How are your OC's grades?

“Passable.”

He gets pretty good grades. I wouldn’t say he’s necessarily competitive, nor at the very top of his class, but he tries to stay above “average.” He’s got a natural edge to memorizing and regurgitating information, so getting good grades isn’t hard for him, but… you know. If he tried a little harder…

(No Yan Sim AU) Questions for OCs! + Quartz and other characters' lore

You don't have to do these if you don't want to! You can write and answer how ever you want (3rd person or as the OC)

These answers are just examples and they also give lore to other TWST characters in the AU

1. Does your OC have parents or family in the AU? If not, what is their current living situation?

Riddle currently lives with his mother. Because of her influence, he is the strictest in the student council (which consists of the dormleaders.)

2. What are their thoughts on Quartz?

[You can yap about it here since I already used Quartz as an example in the fourth question]

3. What is their thoughts and relationship with Azul? How did they meet Azul?

Jade is Azul's right hand man. He assists Azul with a lot of student council work and is mostly by his side with Floyd. They are friends from their middle school days and up to their highschool days (although the three of them won't admit it).

Jade found Azul's hardwork and scheming nature very exciting so he and his brother always stayed by Azul's side to see what fun events would happen.

4. What are their relationships with other characters/OCs?

[They are speaking about Quartz as example]

Floyd: "Who again?"

Floyd doesn't really acknowledge Quartz since she's so quick out of his sights. Genuinely believes there isn't a person named that but is suspicious.

Jade: "Oh, that shy girl? She's a little funny."

Definitely suspicious of Quartz but they don't interact much so he has no other information about her. He probably needs to be more skillful when studying her.

Riddle: "Quartz?.. Uh.. I-I don't recall who that is."

Quartz rarely interacts with Riddle.

Ace: "Ah? You mean that girl who's always so weird? I've seen her watch Azul. Pffftt! Do you think she likes him?"

He notices her sometimes because he thinks her appearance is a little flashy.

Idia: "I-Isn't she one of Azul's admirers?... She's the shy type right? She's a little strange though.. Sometimes she takes photos of me! W-Wait.. Maybe she's into me instead?! EEEKK!! H-HOW SCARY!!"

Completely misunderstands Quartz's actions but he's quick to know how weird her actions are. He stays away from her if Azul isn't present.

5. What grade/year is your OC?

Azul, Jade, and Floyd are all 2nd years (17).

Leona has been held back so he is still 20.

6. What is your OCs goal for the school year or in life?

Quartz wishes to kill Azul 🙏

7. Your OC is being framed for murder of another student by Quartz, how does your OC react to that? Does your OC know it's Quartz?

Floyd is jumping her.

8. Your OC notices Quartz carrying a weapon in her skirt pocket. That's strange since the female school uniforms don't have skirt pockets. Does your OC report this?

Riddle is absolutely reporting that! He's calling the cops and everything 🫡🫡🫡

9. Where is your OC usually with or at during school? Classes? With Azul? Skipping class? Where do they eat lunch?

Quartz is always in class but she'll come right before the bell rings since she was.. busy. She doesn't have a particular place she goes to all the time. She's never in one spot.

Quartz's lunch spot varies because she's always spying but her usual spot is in the courtyard.

Riddle is assigned being a hall monitor so he usually watches the halls when he is able to. He usually eats lunch with Trey and Cater.

Leona is always found napping under trees and skipping his classes. Ruggie manages to find him and give him his lunch from the cafeteria.

Rook is watching you.

10. How are your OC's grades?

Deuce tries, ok. (Awful)

[rorasjournal]

Comfort in shadows | Azriel

lil short azriel fluff to start off my journey on tumblr hehe

pairing: azriel x reader

synopsis: y/n is stressed out about her responsibilities, and there’s only one person who can soothe her anxiety

word count: 819

warnings: none really, maybe some light man handling

~

     The balls of my knuckles turn white as my grip on the terrace rails tighten while I stare out at the night swept view of velaris laid out in the distance, anxiety plaguing my mind. I've been trying to distract myself from all the thoughts gushing around for the past hour, but nothing has been working.

     There's just too much going on right now, too much that I feel the need to deal with all on my own, and I'm fucking tired.

     Whispering shadows cling to my skin, dancing along my body before strong arms are wrapped around my waist, pulling me flush against a familiar chest.

     "It's cold out here," Azriel mutters, tucking his face into the crook of my neck and pressing a soft kiss there. Closing my eyes, I lean my head back against his shoulder.

     "I know."

     "So why are you out here?"

     When I don't reply, Azriel spins me around, sandwiching me between the rail and his body and forcing our gazes to meet. "What is it?"

     I don't want to talk about any of it, especially not to Azriel. He's always so calm and collected, dealing with his responsibilities with so much grace and without complaint. I don't know how to be like that. "Nothing."

     He lowers his face to mine, our noses brushing together and pulling the air from my lungs as he whispers, "I thought we were done with the lies."

     "I'm not lying," I insist, ultimately webbing myself up in more deception regardless of the fact that Azriel clearly sees straight through me. He doesn't even need to use his shadows to figure me out.

A breath passes through his nose before he scoops me up, dangling me over his shoulder and walking inside while I yell out in detest.

"Put me down, asshole!"

     "Gladly," he says, flipping me so my back hits the mattress of our bed. He's on top of me in a flash, his mouth attached to my neck as he sucks on my sensitive skin. My breathe hitches in my throat, a hand instinctively reaching to his head and threading my fingers through his dark hair. "What's going on?" he asks again, mumbling the words against my neck as he continues his work.

     So that's what he's doing. Azriel is turning my mind to mush so he can get an admission out of me. Slick bastard.

Smart bastard though.

     "I just—" I'm not sure if I'm struggling to get the words out because I don't want to say it out loud, or because his tongue is running up the base of my neck. "I'm stressed out, I don't know. Rhys wants me dealing with the Autumn Court and Beron is just such an asshole, I don't know how to handle all of this at once."

     Pulling away, Azriel looks at me with furrowed brows. "Why was that so difficult for you to tell me?"

     I turn my cheek against the mattress to avert my gaze, but Azriel grips my jaw, forcing me back.

     What is with him and male-handling me today?

     "Can you not see how it would be embarrassing admitting that I'm overwhelmed to the spymaster, the shadow singer who always keeps his head level, who always knows what's going on and how to deal with it?"

With a sigh, Azriel sits up, grabbing one of my hands to urge me up as well.

     "I think you of all people should know that I've lost my cool a few number of times.”

“Yeah, a few," I reply with a roll of my eyes. "That's a few hundred less than me."

     The corner of his mouth ticks up. "Y/n."

     "Azriel."

     That just makes his smile grow. "You know it's okay to ask for help, right?" he whispers, tenderly tucking a lock of my hair behind my ear as I lean away. "Especially from me."

     "But that's my point, I shouldn't need to ask for help. I should be able to deal with this on my own like everyone else does."

     "There's not one person in this court that hasn't needed assistance from the others at one point or another, and I'm pretty damn sure you should know that considering it's usually you that's doing the assisting." He chuckles. "You don't even realise you're doing it, do you."

     I sigh, leaning over and resting my forehead on his chest as he drapes an arm across my shoulders, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

     "You're the strongest person I know, that's not going to change just because Beron is pulling your strings."

     "I wish you didn't always sound so wise, it makes it hard for me to not listen to your advice."

     His chest rumbles as he laughs quietly. He completely scoops me up into his arms, dragging me onto his lap as he whispers, "I will always be that reassuring voice in your ear."

[typicalopposite]

crop top tee and cut off jeans

(An idea I have had for a little while from @silversky9 where Tommy wears a crop top and Buck goes a little feral over it. We bounced the idea and it spiraled into what it is now 🫶 TW for the second half there will be mpreg. But you can stop after the first half — I’ll say when — and it’s just good ol fashion … not quite light smut!)

BuckTommy | M | 2803 words | ao3 link

It is so damn hot. 

The sun has been beating down on Tommy’s back for hours as he works in his yard, and he finally has reached the over it stage where he breaks out his special super secret outfit. 

Okay, okay… that’s a bit dramatic. It’s just— it’s not something he would typically wear. 

He slides the shirt over his head and it stops not quite halfway down his torso, then slides the loose and worn out pair of jeans up over his hips… they aren’t booty shorts… where’s the comfort in that? But… They are shorter than he anticipated when he cut the old jeans off a few summers ago. 

He steps out of the bathroom and looks at himself in the mirror. Not bad for an old man, Kinard… he teasingly thinks to himself. His body really is in possibly the best shape he’s been in, in a while. Thanks to his overly enthusiastic boyfriend making sure he sticks to his diet and pouts until he works out with him nearly every day… 

Not bad for an old man, at all… trying to keep up— trying to keep himself alive some days. Not that he cares too much. It makes Evan happy and keeps Tommy healthy so he can be around to keep Evan happy for a long long time. 

Plus… he has never filled out this outfit so nicely… if he does say (or well, think) so himself. 

His solidly built body, just barely, in the old faded cropped slipknot band tee worn mostly just so his shoulders aren’t so exposed to the sun— the shorts hug him a little more than they use to, but are broken in enough to still be breathable and comfy enough to spend the day outside in. 

His privacy fence keeps nosey neighbors eyes off the outfit. Not that he cares what they think— that’s a lie… he would love nothing more than to not have to see their judgemental expressions if they saw big tough guy, Tommy, dress… how he is dressed. But in the privacy of his back yard, he feels free to be a little less how he is expected to be— or act, or look. He can remove the metaphorical mask, that even after all this time… he still keeps snuggly on, and be completely just Tommy. 

And Tommy likes his cropped up top and cut off jeans. He ties a bandanna around his head to keep his curls pushed back… and his thumbs are painted sparkly purple instead of just clear— because it’s pretty and only he will see it. He smiles once more at himself, feeling the last thread of self doubt break loose and he walks out into his backyard. 

It’s still so hot, just more bearable. 

His body is drenched and the clothes are plastered to his body… but he’s almost done. The grass is cut; the weeds in his flowerbed taken care of; he pressure washed his back patio, and set up the new table and chairs he recently purchased— he has guests over pretty often now… which is still a new concept he’s wrapping his head around, but they need places to sit, he guesses. The last thing he is going to do for the day is set up a spice garden… for Evan. 

“Fresh basil is far superior to the dried flakes, babe…” he had pouted when Tommy didn’t want to pause dinner to run to the store… when he had the ingredient (just not the correct form). Did they go get the fresh basil, yes. Did Tommy begrudgingly admit Evan was correct for wanting to go get the fresh, basil… eventually. Did they take turns with each other’s punishment for being such a brat and a bitch about the situation after dinner… absolutely! 

Did Tommy go out the next day and buy everything to set up the little project, and gift, for his boyfriend…? Well… fresh is far superior to dried, so it’s a win win for everyone. 

He is so focused on assembling the wooden box he doesn’t hear the engine come to a stop just on the other side of the fence gate, he doesn’t hear the beep as the doors are locked, or Evan when he calls out once he enters the house. He is busy smoothing out the soil, poking holes down for the seeds, and is mid turn to grab said seeds when Evan gasps (pretty dramatically) after stepping out onto the patio. 

Tommy freezes. He stares and Evan; Evan stares at him. Then he smiles. 

He crosses the patio to where Tommy is standing, takes the seeds from him and sets them down out of the way, then takes Tommy’s face in his hands and pulls him into a deep, passionate kiss. “What… was that for,” Tommy asks, feeling drunk off of it when Evan finally pulls back for air. 

“What is this for?” Evan asks, equally winded, moving to mouth along Tommy’s jaw as he slides his hands up Tommy’s sweat slicked back, under the crop top, to his shoulders… then back down to the cut off of the jeans. His fingers slip under the cut and run along the curve of his ass… and he whines against Tommy’s skin. 

Tommy’s already heated skin is now on fire, for multiple reasons. He fidgets in Evan’s hold and pulls away to look at him, having to lean far back to escape Evan’s hungry lips as they move down his neck . “You’re ridiculous,” he laughs. 

“You’re delicious,” Evan counters and dives back in, walking Tommy back until Evan has him pressed— groin to groin; hardening erection to equally hardening erection — against the railing to his patio steps. Evan trails his tongues back up Tommy’s skin and only stops to nip at his ear causing Tommy to let out a whimpered yelp. “Alright, that’s it…” Evan exclaims, then he dips down and without warning Tommy is hoisted up and over Evan’s shoulder. 

“Evan!?” He is held firmly in place and carried up the few steps to the patio door. “But your spice garden…” 

“It can wait— wait…my spice garden?” 

“Mhmm…” Tommy hums, a proud smile spreading across his face as Evan turns back to look at the little handmade garden box. 

He’s quiet for a moment, then tightens his hold on Tommy and pushes the patio door open. “Oh yeah, let’s go…” he mutters, and proceeds to carry him to the bedroom, dropping him onto the bed and wasting no time climbing up on top of him. “You… are amazing, sweetheart… Do you know that?” Tommy preens at that, then shies away. “No no… look at me beautiful. I need to know you understand how much I appreciate and adore you right now.” 

Evan sits back on his heels and lets his eyes roam over Tommy’s body, he bites . “It’s just some yard clothes…” Tommy says, knowing there’s a deep blush taking over his face. 

“It’s just hot, Tommy… you look so hot in this, and you have no idea do you?” 

“You really like it?” Tommy asks softly, and he knows that voice tends to do so much more to Evan than when he drops it down an octave, making it deep and scratchy. He bats his eyes even and Evan looks ready to pounce. 

“Oh I’m going to show you just how much I like it—” Evan practically growls. He grabs Tommy by the waist and flips him over, pulling him up onto his knees. “—and you—” He stops Tommy when he starts to pull the crop top off, taking both of Tommy’s wrists in one hand and pressing them into the mattress over his head, no command to leave them there needed, Tommy knows. “—and all the things you do for me, sweetheart.” Then Evan works at the jeans, until they are pushed down just enough to grant him access. 

Evan is quick and effective. First with his mouth then with his fingers. He works Tommy open until he is writhing and begging for more and then he gives him just that. Filling him up, while also dropping down to whisper his praises and gratitudes in Tommy’s ear while he pounds into him. Tommy gasps and moans and cries out for Evan to go faster and harder, arching his back against Evan’s chest with an exasperated cry as he reaches his climax. 

Needless to say, Tommy is left feeling very appreciated and adored. 

🛑🛑🛑🛑🛑🛑🛑🛑🛑🛑🛑🛑🛑🛑🛑🛑

STAHP! there be mpreg beyond this point! Unless you’re cool with than then — GO!

🟢🟢🟢🟢🟢🟢🟢🟢🟢🟢🟢🟢🟢🟢🟢🟢

(Forty TWO weeks later)

It is so fucking hot, and Tommy might actually lose his mind. 

He is huge and tired and sore… and now the AC won’t turn on. He wants to cry as he flips the switch to off then back on like Evan suggests when Tommy called to angrily panic scream about it. “The tech will be there in the morning to look at it,” Evan tells him at the end of the conversation, after nothing has worked, his voice heavily apologetic… and Tommy whines pitifully. He can’t help it. It’s Evan’s fault he is in this miserable position in the first place. He runs a hand over the large bump housing their baby girl and sighs. “I love you so much, sweetheart. I’ll make it up to you as soon as I get home, okay?”

“Will you bring me some ice cream?” Tommy asks, and Evan quickly agrees without hesitation. “And give me a foot massage?” Another quick agree from Evan, and Tommy digs for more requests; because dammit, if he has to roast in this house because the doctor decided he needs to be put on bed rest while they wait for their daughter's arrival, so he can’t leave, then he is getting pampered for it. His ego and pride can be damned. Evan promises to do every single one, then he has to get off the phone; the sound of the alarm blares in the background and Tommy hopes it will be a quick last call so Evan can get home to him… even if the heat is sweltering and he will not be allowed to touch him beyond the foot massage. 

He goes around the house, opening all the windows and turning on all the ceiling fans; he goes into the garage and finds all their standing fans as well. He doesn’t even look at the thermostat to see how hot it is, the way his shirt is drenched and sticking to his body is enough to know it must be ridiculously high. 

No matter what he does it is just too hot. 

He finally can’t take it anymore and tugs his shirt up and over his bump, but hesitates pulling it over his head. It’s his nipples. They are so sensitive— so sensitive! Not exactly in a good way this far into the pregnancy… and the wind blowing from all the fans will be murderous on them! 

The problem is now the fabric is sitting bunched up on top of his stomach and that’s no less annoying than it being plastered to his belly. He huffs about a frustrated breath… then he gets an idea. 

Evan is going to murder him for using the kitchen shears but he was too desperate to get this done quickly to go hunt down his crafting scissors. He snatches the shirt off and lays it out flat on the table, eyes a line about midway up and starts cutting. He slides it back on and the edge hovers just above where his belly sticks out from his body, not rubbing annoyingly against it, but still covering his poor nipples from all the air. 

He breathes a sigh… and suddenly the idea blossoms. He thinks of his baggy pregnancy jeans… that he will have no use for once the baby is born, then hurries to their room to find them, tugging his gym shorts off and discarding them into the hamper in the corner of their room as he goes. 

One more modification later and he tries them on… definitely shorter than he intended but he’s not mad at it. He twists his body as best as he can to see his backside in the mirror and hums a pleased little hum at how he looks. Swollen, sure. But past that he fills the fit out nicely. 

And most importantly… he feels substantially better. He might even be able to get some cleaning done now…

Which is exactly what Evan finds him doing when he finally makes it home from work. “What are you—” he gasps, then trails off… Tommy stops mopping and blinks innocently at his soon to be husband. “Oh my god…” Evan sobs, dropping the bag of ice cream with his keys and his jacket and beelining straight into Tommy. His hands wander over the exposed bump and Tommy tilts his head back and softly chuckles as Evan wastes no time latching onto his throat. “Are you trying to kill me, sweetheart?” Evan whines against the mark he left behind. “I just got off work.” He presses a row of kisses around Tommy’s neck, and up to his ear. 

“Hmm…” Tommy hums smugly, letting his hands travel up Evan’s arms and wrap around his shoulders. “I had a feeling you might like it.” 

“Oh you did?” Evan asks into his ear before nipping at the lobe and sending a shiver through Tommy’s body. “So you purposefully chose to be a tease when I got home?”

“Maaaybe…” Tommy drags out, his lips twitching up into a smirk. He really hadn’t, it was just too damn hot… but he will play into this for some (hopefully labor inducing) sexy times. Evan hesitates— he has his reservations about sex so late in the pregnancy— but it’s very short lived with Tommy dipping his head and glancing up at Evan through his lashes. “What are you gonna do about it?” he asks softly… with just a bit of a needy desperation in his voice. 

That does it.

Evan growls and finally captures Tommy’s lips, letting his hands wander and roam over Tommy’s body. The bump is such a mood killer, stuck out and so in the way, but they are creative, and at two weeks over due if Tommy wants it… Tommy gets it. Evan leads him over to the kitchen island, leans him forward just a bit, and tells him to keep his hands flat on the counter top. Then he gets to work, kissing a trail over the back of Tommy’s neck, down his back and stopping at the hem of the pants. 

He eases them off of Tommy’s hips, over his extra caked up (Evan’s words of affirmation since he put on he baby weight) ass and down just enough he can easily part Tommy’s cheeks and dives in. 

It’s not long before Evan’s ministrations have Tommy’s legs trembling. “Baby…” he pleads, and Evan immediately stops, kissing back up Tommy’s back. They are nothing if not always prepared and Evan quickly finds a live packet in one of the drawers. He pushes his pants down and slicks himself up just as Tommy’s winces. 

Evan completely stops. “Are you okay?” 

Tommy nods and lets out a deep breath. “This is too much on my back,” he says, rubbing over the heavy bump. “Can we move to the bedroom?” 

“You don’t want to stop?” Evan asks, and receives a daring glare. “Okay, okay…” he laughs, and presses a kiss into Tommy’s cheek. Tommy tugs his shorts back up and takes Evan’s hand Very determined to finish what they started now, leading him to their bedroom. Evan eases him onto the bed and takes the sight before him in, groans before joining Tommy on the mattress. “How did I get so lucky?” he asks, running his hands up and over Tommy’s body, moving back to kiss him again. 

He gets back to work, this time slipping the shorts all the way off, but making a verbal note that the shirt stays put. Then he shifts Tommy onto his side, moves behind him, lines up, and slides in. Tommy arches back against Evan’s chest and his breathing picks up, as does Evan’s thrusts. “Baby… baby… baby…” Tommy chants, feeling around until he finds Evan's hand and lacing their fingers together. “Come on… come on… come on…” 

He can feel the heat pooling in his belly and he knows it isn’t going to take long at all. He bites his lips and starts to rock himself back into Evan’s thrusts, as Evan’s hand releases his and moves down to grip him. It only takes one stroke and Tommy’s vision whites out, his body goes rigid, he cries out Evan’s name…

Needless to say… the baby was born that night. 

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

okay the we shouldn't turn sebastian in but it has the you don't have all the facts

i love him meme

THIS WAS REALLY HARD FOR ME BECAUSE THIS IS SUCH AN EMOTIONAL SCENE AND IM NOT SURE I DID THE BEST JOB INCORPORATING THE HUMOR OF THE MEME INTO THE WEIGHT OF THE SITUATION BUT I TRIED MY BEST ANON.

Words: ~1,100

Tags: Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, Canon Event Rewrite

The Undercroft was quiet, the usual sense of sanctuary replaced by an oppressive weight neither of you dared name. Ominis paced near the table, his wand gripped so tightly his knuckles turned white. You sat perched on the edge of a crate, arms crossed, watching him with unease. His usual composure had cracked, and the pieces were sharper than you were used to.

“We need to decide what we're going to do,” Ominis said, breaking the silence at last.

You straightened, already dreading where this conversation was headed. “I figured that was why you wanted to meet here.”

He stopped pacing and turned to face you. “I don’t want to lose him,” he admitted, his voice softer than you expected. “But I don’t think we have a choice.”

“You can’t mean that.”

Ominis stopped in his tracks, his blind gaze snapping toward you. “Can’t I? Merlin, look at what he’s done! The spells he’s used. The person he—” He stopped himself, swallowing hard. “He’s crossed too many lines.”

You stood, fists clenching at your sides. “But surely he hasn’t crossed the point of no return, Ominis. Not yet. We can still help him!”

“Help him?” Ominis snapped, a rare flash of anger breaking through his calm demeanor. “He doesn’t think he needs help. He’s convinced himself that everything he’s done is justified, no matter how wrong it is.”

“He was trying to save Anne,” you argued. “You know that.”

“And where does it end?” Ominis demanded, stepping closer to you. “When does trying to save Anne stop being an excuse for using Dark magic? For killing people?”

“He didn’t mean to!” you snapped, pushing off the wall.

Ominis’s face twisted with anger. “That doesn’t matter! He cast the Killing Curse. That’s not something you do by accident.”

“He was desperate!” you argued. “Solomon was threatening him. He panicked and you know it!"

“Panicked?” Ominis repeated, his voice rising. “That’s your excuse? He used Dark magic to murder his own uncle, and you think that’s something we can just brush aside?”

“I’m not brushing it aside!” you cried, stepping closer to him. “But sending him to Azkaban isn’t the answer. You know he wouldn’t survive there.”

Ominis shook his head, frustration written across his face. “He shouldn’t have to survive there, because he shouldn’t have done it in the first place! You’re acting like we can fix this, but we can’t. He crossed a line, and now there’s no going back.”

“There’s always a way back,” you shot back. “We’ve saved him before. We can do it again.”

“This isn’t like before!” Ominis snapped, throwing his hands in the air. “This isn’t him sneaking into the Restricted Section or using a spell he didn’t fully understand. He knew exactly what he was doing when he used that bloody relic, and he knew what he was doing when he cast that curse. He made his choice.”

“He made a mistake,” you said, your voice trembling. “He’s not some monster, Ominis. He’s our friend.”

"Was our friend," Ominis said, his voice breaking slightly.

You took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. “So what, you’re just going to turn him in? Hand him over to the Ministry and let the Dementors destroy him?!"

Ominis flinched, his wand hand trembling. “If we don’t, and someone finds out we’ve been covering for him, they’ll come for us too,” he said, his voice quieter now but no less resolute. “It won’t just be Sebastian they punish. It’ll be all of us. You, me, even Anne. Do you want to see her dragged into this mess, after everything she’s already suffered?”

Your chest ached at the mention of Anne. You knew he was right about the risks, but the thought of turning Sebastian over to the Ministry made you feel sick. “We can’t just give up on him, Ominis. He’s not beyond saving.”

Ominis’s face twisted in anguish. “I don’t want to give up on him,” he said, his voice cracking. “But how do we save someone who doesn’t want to be saved?”

"We will find a way. We will," you said firmly, stepping closer to him again. "We'll pull him back from the edge."

“This isn’t a bloody edge,” Ominis muttered bitterly. “This is a cliff. And if he jumps again, we’re all going down with him.”

You placed a hand on his arm, your voice softening. “We haven’t lost him. Not yet. But if we send him to Azkaban, that’ll be it. There won’t be any hope left. Please, Ominis. One more chance.”

He turned his head slightly toward you, his expression filled with doubt and exhaustion. “And if he does it again? If he uses another Unforgivable or—Merlin forbid—kills someone else?”

"He won't."

Ominis stared at you, his face pale and tense, his expression hovering between disbelief and resignation. “You don’t know that,” he said quietly. “You can’t know that.”

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening. “I do.”

“How?” Ominis pressed, his voice sharper now, almost desperate. “How can you be so certain, after everything he’s done? After everything we’ve seen? He cast the bloody Cruciatus Curse on you and yet you still defend him! How can you be so bloody sure he won’t just do it again?”

"Because I know him, Ominis. And so do you! We know his heart. He’s not a monster. He’s not evil. He’s just… lost. And if we give up on him now, I don’t think he’ll ever find his way back.”

Ominis shook his head slowly, as if trying to process what you’d just said. “That’s not a fact,” he said, his voice trembling. “That’s... that’s not a reason to keep risking everything.”

“It is to me,” you said firmly. "Those are the facts. And I won't give up on him. Because I love him."

Ominis froze, his wand lowering as though the weight of your words had physically struck him. For a moment, it was as if the air had been sucked out of the Undercroft, the silence deafening.

“You…” His voice faltered, and he blinked, his pale eyes wide with shock. “You love him?”

“I do."

Ominis tilted his head back, letting out a long, slow exhale. “For Merlin's sake...” he muttered, though there was no malice in his tone. Just exhaustion. “Do you even... do you realize what you’re asking of me? All because you’re letting your feelings cloud your judgment?”

“I’m asking you to believe in him," you murmured. "Just one more time.”

He turned his head slightly toward you, his expression softening, though the pain in his eyes remained. “You really love him, don’t you?”

“I do,” you said again, the certainty in your voice unwavering. “And I think you do too. That’s why you haven’t gone to the Headmaster yet, isn’t it? He’s family to us, Ominis. And you don’t give up on family. Not when they need you most.”

For a long moment, Ominis said nothing. Then he nodded, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Fine,” he said quietly. “One more chance."

[puzzleglum]

THEORY TIME AGAIN!! The other day, I had a realization. About how Hyde could possibly rescue Jekyll, without also getting stuck in the depths of their mind. And, it connects to Hyde’s pounding heart, and Lanyon’s confessions to Hyde. Remember this golden ribbon, around Hyde’s wrist on the Chapter 16 cover? (The same cover where Hyde was depicted in his mindscape outfit. Take note!)

I’ve theorized before that it’s a lifeline. Similar to Ariadne’s golden thread from the Greek myth, this ribbon could be a way for Hyde and Jekyll to escape the labyrinth that is the bottom of their mind. A lifeline that allows them to find their way back up again, to the waking world of existence. A tether to reality, if you will. The mindscape and its rules are a bit tricky, but one thing is for sure: the literal rules of normal reality don’t apply. The whole space is basically a big metaphor for their shared unconscious mind. There’s a kind of dream logic to how it functions.

So why shouldn’t the lifeline be metaphorical, too?

Before, I’d thought that maybe the Mort potion—or some other scientific solution—could be used for this, as the origin of the lifeline. A temporary ‘sleeping death’ that would allow Hyde to reach Jekyll, and get out again when the potion wears off. But now, I think I got a better idea. Something far less literal and dryly mechanistic.

First: remember how the last time Jekyll’s heart was pounding—with lots of prominent sound effects, that is—he passed out on stage? Hyde had been poisoning their mind with despair, wanting to take Jekyll down with him.

(It’s worth mentioning that Lanyon was at Jekyll’s side when he woke up again, too. He never left him alone.) I believe Hyde might be about to pass out, too. But for entirely different reasons than Jekyll did previously. Hyde feels all of his feelings very intensely. The similar BA BUM heartbeat sound effects show us just how much Lanyon’s words, and gentle touches, are affecting him.

To be extra clear on my part: secretly, Hyde HAS always wanted to be loved, even if he’d never openly admit it, even to himself. But deep down, he believed it was impossible anyway. Who in their right mind would love an Evil Monster like him? Lanyon would. Because he can see that Hyde was never just “pure evil.” Hyde is simply…a part of Henry. The Doe-Eyed Sweetheart that Lanyon first fell in love with, before falling in love with the rest of Henry, too. This is exactly what Hyde and Lanyon’s character arcs needed. This moment is a beautiful payoff that was a LONG time coming. But I’m not here to talk about all the things that set this up. Might do that later. But my point is…this is it!

Lanyon’s unconditional love is the lifeline.

Let me elaborate. I think Hyde is about to pass out from the overwhelming feeling of knowing that Lanyon REALLY, TRULY loves him. (Perhaps with a kiss or similar to top it off.) And when he comes to, he’ll be in the mind, with that golden ribbon on his wrist. Ready to hunt for Jekyll and bring him back. The intuitive logic I’m seeing here is something like this: That reciprocated love, and Hyde’s desire to return to reality and be reunited with Lanyon soon, is what provides a metaphorical and emotional tether to the real world. Because that emotion would be SO strong that it would bend the rules of their mindscape, allowing Jekyll and Hyde to come back. In other words…Lanyon is Hyde’s Ariadne. The giver of the golden ribbon to guide him through the labyrinth, and safely return when he needs to. :)

And that’s my theory! Thanks for reading, and leave any thoughts in the replies, if you wish!

(I’d love to know if people think this is plausible, or not! To be honest, I’m not entirely sure of this myself. But since the possibility occurred to me, well…there’s no problem with writing it down, anyway! You never know.)

[wolfwoocl]

“...Yeah.” 

He doesn’t like admitting the fact out loud. He doesn’t like thinking about it to begin with, but with Vash that is unavoidable one way or another. Despite steadily beating behind his sternum for four years now, Nicholas still has not come around to thinking of the heart in his chest as his. Other than a few…hiccups…here and there, it’s served him well. Kept him going. That’s as much as anyone can ask for, given how far and how hard he pushed the limits of his body.

A new heart, a product of a new century, placed in the chest cavity of a man who should have died over a hundred years ago. Ironically, it’s the only part of him that fucking belongs here. 

“Thought hadn’t even crossed my mind,” Wolfwood responds wryly. Leave it to Vash to leave an impossibly well-timed comment...probably without even being aware of it. Out of place, not out of time. He can’t further pursue the darkening line of thought even if he tried. Not with Vash watching him so intently. Not with those eyes, mercurial, shifting somewhere between bottle glass blue and nightglow iris depending on how the light hits them, the angle of Vash’s face. Not when they finally have time. 

Wolfwood follows the faint, crackling lines in the corner of Vash’s left eye, right above his little mole, with the pad of his thumb. Both hands travel upward from there, gently rubbing circles about Vash’s temples, kneading his scalp and lathering the dark strands of hair further. 

“Quit squirmin’, ya missed a spot. ‘s what happens when ya only got one arm to work with, huh. Too busy gawkin’ at me with yer big saucer eyes, maybe…”

There’s hardly anything he can think of that Vash can’t do just as well with one arm that he can with two, but Wolfwood likes having the excuse all the same…And no one ever said it had to be a good one. 

Hair, shoulders, upper arm, sides, back. Wolfwood takes his time going from shampooing to soaping skin without accepting any ifs, ands, or buts. He’s earned that much, damn it, and Vash will not dissuade nor distract him. So what if he finds himself cataloguing every new scar, ones both recognizable and not? On the grand scale of things, finding Vash sooner would not have changed anything. There are more years to account for than the length of his own natural lifespan.

Somehow, Nicholas feels responsible anyway.

At the very least, he can keep his hands busy while he answers the rest of Vash’s questions. “The way I had it explained to me…My heart was cooked. A regular human heart wasn’t gonna cut it between all the shit Conrad and Chapel put me through. So they got a little creative. Recovered my file out of his archives, found some old notes the good doctor left behind.”

Wolfwood had expressly asked not to see that particular document despite Luida’s suggestions. He didn’t want to know. Didn’t need to know or relive any single part of that life.

The words do not come easy. Wolfwood’s voice becomes halting and tense as he tries to keep it steady, “It’s artificial, more or less. Infused with Plant ‘n Plant energy…Wasn’t real clear on the distinction at the time, if I’m bein’ honest. There’s still a chance that my body might randomly decide to reject the damn thing, but so far so good.”

In hindsight, Luida’s deadpan delivery of all the things that could go wrong with his new heart seems almost comical. It might also randomly explode, stop working altogether, or suddenly run out of power, but Vash doesn’t need to live with that knowledge right now.

Damn it. 

He’s lost track of how many times he’s scrubbed at this part of Vash’s back. Change of subject, then.

“Anyway, what the hell is this about you goin’ to jail? Everyone on Home was bein’ all tight-lipped about it whenever I tried to ask.”

Breathe.

Vash just needs to... breathe—to give himself a moment to take it all in, to calm down, to think about his own words. He fixates on his breath while undressing so much that he finally silences his chatterbox mouth for more than a few minutes.

He can't help but feel a creeping shyness in undressing, even if he'd done all of that and more with Wolfwood two hundred years prior. It's been a while! His body wasn't pretty before, and it's definitely worse now. Carved chunks of his flesh look deeper than before, he has far more stitched wounds. He'd nearly lost a leg once, indicated by a twisting, jagged scar around his shin and thigh where a bear trap weapon clamped onto him. Before he turned himself in, the bounty hunters became worse. Desperate, penniless, and hungry, these hunters gave their all to catch him for the unimaginable prize attached to his name. Most people didn't recognize him anymore, but when someone did...

All of the metal had to be removed when things began to shock him wherever he went, replaced by the same sturdy alloy that his most recent arm was made of. Unlike his arm from two centuries ago that didn't survive the end, the one Wolfwood retrieved lacked a gun. He couldn't have weapons in jail for obvious reasons, so Brad made him an arm just like the one he had when he'd met the priest—instead of shimmering green, it was a glassy onyx. That arm served him well. Without Brad around though, Vash can't help but wonder how he'll get a replacement...

With it gone, at least he doesn't need to concern himself over taking it off as well. Vash can just get out of his clothes and slip into the tub before Wolfwood can look at him too hard. He can feel his gaze on him when he's undressing, and while not unwelcome, it does send a terrible chill through Vash's bones that he wishes he could hide better. He wants this. More than anything else on the planet, he wants this right now. He just... hadn't thought about what bathing would entail. Kinda.

Vash huffs and shakes the jitters out from his shoulder to his hand before turning around. His gaze softens as he admires Wolfwood from the chest up, sunken and relaxed in the water just as he'd wished would happen when he built this place. It's satisfying, to say the least.

"Well, you are the only one who's ever been able to catch me," he chuckles and continues with an endearing speaking tone, "I don't have billions and billions of double dollars to give you as a reward though. Guess you got scammed, huh?"

He takes Wolfwood's hand in his as he steps into the bath and sinks right into the space in front of his partner, between his legs and against his chest. The new scars on Wolfwood's body hadn't escaped his scrutiny however; still holding onto his hand, Vash leans forward to present his back to the undertaker. Betwixt all of the scarred flesh and implants are difficult to see fringed scars, lightning scattering in every direction and more.

"We match now, I guess," the water swirls as he returns to leaning against the man behind him, "Do they hurt? What—um... what did they have to do to you? You seem more... Plant-y than I remember. Your heart, specifically. I know it's weaker than before but... it's as if they replaced it."

Vash shuts himself up by dipping his head below the water and running his fingers through it before they lather it up. Strands separate from each other as he scrubs at his scalp underwater, freeing them from a decade of grease and oil. He breaches again and sits up, curiously twisting his back to see Wolfwood's face and golden-brown eyes. The Independent has no idea just how love-stricken he looks, but he does feel tears threaten to pool at the corners of his eyes again.

It's just the hot water, Vash thinks to himself, trying not to think of all the years that came between the two of them.

"Oh, and d-don't worry about me shocking us in here! I've been... feeling calmer. Less zappy. Maybe my 'nap' did work after all..."