#if i speak i fear i might just combust | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

iyoonjh · 24 hours ago

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Beyond Plus Ultra! – The anatomy of falling in love

Chapter 15: Over 1,000,000 Heartbeats Per Second, but Jesus Christ who let the dogs out?

wc: 6536 words

Soobin was going to pass out.

Like, not metaphorically. Not the oh, I’m so nervous I might faint, ha-ha kind of thing. No—he was genuinely preparing himself for actual loss of consciousness.

Because she was coming over. To his apartment. The same apartment where he had cried over Your Name, kept an unopened One Piece figure on the bookshelf for three years out of fear of “ruining the box,” and owned exactly zero furniture that could be classified as “adult.”

And she—Y/N—was coming here voluntarily. After the kiss.

Which had haunted him every waking second since it happened.

Soobin stood in the middle of his living room, staring at his bookshelf like the books had personally betrayed him. Why had he alphabetized them? That was insane, he was insane. No normal person alphabetized their manga by author and series title. That was the behavior of someone who paid taxes with a sword and lived in a moss-covered cave.

His hands flew to the shelf. No time. Chaos was more human. He began to de-organize everything with the urgency of someone erasing a crime scene. Then paused. Was chaotic worse? Would it scream “this guy hasn’t emotionally evolved since Digimon”?

Truth was, Soobin had cleaned his apartment like he was preparing for a government inspection.

Not just a “wipe down the counters and hide your socks” kind of clean—no, this was a full-blown crisis intervention. He vacuumed. He rearranged the manga shelf three times. He googled “how to look effortlessly cool but emotionally available through interior design.” He wiped down the inside of the microwave. The inside. Who even notices that?

He had picked out three shirts. Tried all of them on. Hated all of them. Went back to the first one – the Gojo one. Changed again. Now he was in a soft grey hoodie because “low-stakes and huggable” felt like the safest vibe.

And still, as he paced his too-small living room—hands tangled in his hair, heart clawing its way up his throat—Soobin was certain of one thing: He was going to die. Or combust. Or dissolve into the floor. Or something equally dramatic and deserved.

Then his phone buzzed, and for a split second, he was genuinely convinced it was the end. A stroke. A heart attack. Divine punishment.

Y/N: omw :)

Oh god. She used a smiley face.

Not an emoji. A colon-parenthesis smiley. The old-school, no-frills kind. The kind that meant warmth. Familiarity. The kind that made Soobin feel like maybe she wasn't coming over to say "hey, about that kiss, let's never speak of it again, it was the worst kiss of my life."

Maybe.

He stood up so fast he got dizzy. Checked the mirror. Immediately regretted it. His hair looked like he’d tried to style it in a wind tunnel. His hoodie was riding weird on his shoulder. He looked exactly like he felt: insane.

The buzzer rang.

Oh my god. It’s her. Okay, this is happening, this is life.

Soobin walked to the door like a prisoner walking to the gallows, heart on his throat and sweat running down his spine.

He opened it.

And there she was.

Backlit by the low golden sunset, hair slightly tousled from the breeze, her lips pulled into a soft smile that made his brain completely short-circuit.

Soobin stopped functioning.

Like, genuinely. His entire body just—froze. It was like he was seeing her for the first time all over again. As if seeing her like this had triggered some biological override. As if his nervous system had taken one look at her and whispered, Nope. We’re out.

She was right there. Real. Warm. Wearing the kind of expression that lived in the spaces between his daydreams, the kind that looked too soft, too fond, too much for his heart to take.

And she was smiling at him.

God. That smile.

It wasn’t big or dramatic. It was quiet, just a curve of her mouth and a slight crinkle near her eyes, but it hit him. Like some hidden part of him—some vulnerable, unspeakable center—had been waiting for exactly this moment without realizing it. And now that it was here, now that she was here, he couldn’t breathe.

His heart was thudding hard. Loud. As if trying to escape his chest and throw itself at her feet.

Because she looked like something out of a dream he’d never have the nerve to describe out loud. The way her hair caught the last light of day. The way it moved ever so slightly in the breeze. The worn tote bag hanging from her shoulder, the edge of a book peeking out like an accidental detail from an indie movie. Her shoelaces a little uneven. A necklace he’d never seen before. Her hands tucked into the sleeves of her sweater.

Every detail was devastating.

Because it was her.

Because she'd kissed him.

And now she was standing in front of his apartment door like it was nothing. Like this was casual. Like his world hadn’t been tilted off its axis since the last time he saw her.

And for a second—a full, long, crushing second—Soobin wasn’t standing in a doorway.

He was standing on that porch again, her face just inches from his. Her hands in his hoodie. Her breath brushing his cheek. The kiss, soft and surprising and all-consuming, like a secret he didn’t know he’d been keeping.

He’d replayed it in his head every night since.

Except “replayed” didn’t even cover it. He’d relived it. Obsessively. The angle of her chin. The way her hand lingered near his jaw. The moment her lips met his and the rest of the world just faded out.

It had wrecked him.

It had remade him.

And now she was standing here in golden light, eyes lit up with that mischievous glint, and Soobin had never felt more like a character in the wrong genre of movie. The best he could hope for was to not pass out before offering her water.

His throat was dry. He didn’t know what to do with his hands. His palms were clammy. His knees felt like they might betray him at any moment.

She said, “Hi.”

And he thought, I would memorize every version of your voice just to keep this one forever.

He said, “Hey.”

And wanted to punch himself immediately.

But she just smiled wider. Tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. And he nearly had to lean against the doorframe to stay upright, because how was this his life?

She was really here.

And she had no idea. No idea how hard it was not to tell her everything. Not to say, I haven’t slept because I keep imagining your mouth on mine. Not to blurt out, I’ve been thinking about you every second of every day and I don’t know what to do with myself anymore. Not to confess, you ruined me a little. And I liked it.

Instead, he swallowed hard. Shifted his weight.

Let her in.

Prayed to every god that had ever existed that he wouldn’t do something monumentally stupid.

Because the girl who kissed him under a starry sky was now walking into his apartment, and Soobin had never been more aware of his own heart than he was in that golden hour light.

“Hope I’m not too early,” she added, stepping inside. “I brought candy. And emotional baggage.”

Soobin let out a nervous breath. “I’ve got a whole closet for that.”

Y/N laughed—soft and easy—and kicked off her shoes. “Oh thank god. I was worried you were going to pretend to be emotionally healthy tonight.”

“Absolutely not,” he replied, following her into the living room. “I’m very committed to my internal chaos.”

They sat on the couch—on opposite ends, naturally. A respectable, excruciating distance. There were exactly twenty-four inches between them. Soobin knew because he’d measured it earlier, just in case she sat next to him and he had to pretend he wasn’t hyper aware of how close they were.

And now here she was, cross-legged, tossing a gummy worm into her mouth like she wasn’t the sole reason Soobin’s entire nervous system was in flames.

She looked around his apartment. “You rearranged your manga shelf.”

Soobin blinked. “W-what?”

She smirked. “In that picture you sent me yesterday, Bleach was next to One Piece. Now it’s on the bottom.”

Holy shit. She noticed?

“I, uh…” he rubbed the back of his neck. “Thought I’d switch it up.”

“You panicked.”

“I definitely panicked.”

She smiled, and something in his chest ached.

Y/N looked perfectly at ease, legs tucked under her on the couch, her face lit up with quiet excitement like this—being here, in his space—was the most natural thing in the world. She glanced around the room like it was familiar, like it didn’t even cross her mind that this was a big deal.

Meanwhile, Soobin was coming undone at the seams.

His brain couldn’t keep up with reality. She was on his couch. In his apartment. Eating the gummies she bought for him. Smiling at him like this wasn’t the single most terrifying and thrilling moment of his life. A silent, internal scream echoed through him as he tried to act normal—like his heart wasn’t trying to launch itself into orbit.

It hit him like a rogue wave: sudden, cold, and disorienting.

What was she doing here? How had this happened? Did she know what she was doing to him?

He blinked once. Twice. She was still there.

“Movie?” she asked, scrolling through the options on the screen like she didn’t just shatter his entire nervous system.

He nodded—too fast, too eager—and managed to form a word. “Yeah.”

They settled on Dune without much debate. It was an easy choice, safe and cinematic. A little pretentious in theory, but somehow a comfort movie to both of them. Neither of them mentioned they’d already seen it. Maybe because it didn’t matter. Maybe because this wasn’t about the movie at all.

Soobin knew every line, every cut of the camera. He couldn’t recall a single frame.

“So,” she said, popping another gummy into her mouth, eyes diverging from the screen, “tell me something dumb you believed as a kid.”

Soobin blinked. “Like… I used to think if I drank soda and chewed gum at the same time, my stomach would explode?”

She gasped. “Same! I was terrified. One time my brother gave me Coke while I had a mint in my mouth and I almost cried.”

He grinned. “A shared trauma.”

“What else?” she nudged his sock-covered foot with hers. “C’mon. Let me into the mind of young Soobin.”

“Oh no. That’s dangerous.”

“Do it.”

He sighed dramatically. “Okay, fine. I used to believe that if I didn’t say goodnight to my stuffed animals in order, they’d fight each other while I slept.”

Y/N nearly choked. “What kind of Toy Story warzone were you sleeping in?”

“They were competitive! Especially the penguin and the dragon.”

“It doesn't seem like a fair fight to me.”

Soobin laughed, and it was the kind of laugh that felt real—the kind that cracked through the nervous haze and made room for something softer. Something that said: she’s here. She’s here and she’s laughing and this is okay.

“What about you?” he asked. “What dumb kid belief did you cling to?”

She smirked. “Okay, this is embarrassing. But… I thought actors lived inside the TV.”

Soobin blinked. “Like, just waiting?”

“Yeah. Like they had little apartments in there. And they’d come out when it was their turn. I once whispered to the TV during Lizzie McGuire to let Gordo know I thought he was cute.”

Soobin snorted. “Wow. Poor Gordo never knew.”

“I had to move on.”

They laughed again, the kind of shared laughter that slowly eased the weight in the room. They kept talking, forgetting about the movie, —about their friends, their childhoods, Soobin’s unfortunate incident with a Slip ‘N Slide and a pinecone (“I don’t wanna talk about it”) and Y/N’s brief, cursed phase as a magician’s assistant at a third-grade birthday party –which Soobin told her that Taehyun would love.

Somewhere in the middle of the conversation—right after Y/N finished explaining how Jungwon once accidentally texted her “I love you” instead of “on my way”—the distance on the couch changed.

Soobin didn’t know how it happened. It just… shifted. Slowly. Like gravity was in on something he wasn’t.

Their knees touched.

Just a light brush. The smallest point of contact. But it hit him like a shockwave, like someone had flicked on a switch in the dark corner of his chest that hadn’t seen daylight in years.

And she didn’t move.

She didn’t apologize or shift away or act like it was anything at all. She just kept talking. Calm. Unbothered. Like she wasn’t currently rewriting the molecular structure of his body just by being there.

Soobin’s breath caught in his throat.

His heart—already a mess from her smile, her laugh, her whole being here—now decided to go into full DEFCON 1. Blood roared in his ears. His lungs felt too shallow. He tried to focus on what she was saying—something about Jake’s tragic karaoke renditions of emo songs—but all he could think about was how close she was. How real. How soft her voice sounded from here. How her knee was still touching his.

And then—then—she leaned a little closer.

And that was it. That was the moment he actually, truly, almost lost it.

Because she was here, right here, and she was so effortlessly herself. And he was Soobin—sitting so still it felt like his bones were buzzing. Trying not to explode. Trying not to mess this up.

He didn’t know how to sit anymore. His back was stiff, like if he moved the wrong way the moment would shatter. His hand was resting awkwardly against his thigh, fingers twitching like they were aching to reach for her, to trace the lines of her hand, to prove this was real.

Because it didn’t feel real.

Not after the past three days.

Not after the way he’d gone to bed that night and just stared at the ceiling in stunned silence, hand over his chest, replaying the kiss like it was on a loop in his brain. Not after he’d walked home from the porch half-dazed, like someone who had just stepped out of a dream and wasn’t sure which reality was the real one.

He hadn’t slept that night. Not really. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face lit by the porch light—her expression right before she kissed him. Like she wasn’t afraid. Like she knew exactly what she was doing.

And Soobin?

Soobin had been wrecked ever since.

He’d woken up the next morning thinking it might’ve been a hallucination. His brain had immediately gone into overdrive: Did I imagine it? Was it an accident? Did I dream the entire thing? What if she regrets it? What if she thinks it meant nothing and I’m just sitting here making friendship bracelets out of feelings she doesn’t even know I have?

And now she was next to him.

Real. Here. Knees touching his.

Leaning closer like it was nothing.

He could smell her shampoo—something citrusy and warm, bright and sharp like the rest of her. He could feel the way the air between them tightened, thickened, like the universe itself was holding its breath.

Soobin wanted to scream. Or sob. Or kiss her again. Or all three in rapid succession.

He turned his head slightly, just enough to see her profile.

She was now focused on the movie playing on the screen. At least, she was pretending to be. Her lashes flicked downward, slow and deliberate. Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth. And the corner of her mouth twitched—like she knew exactly what she was doing to him.

She was close enough that if he turned his head just a little more, he’d be able to see her eyes. Close enough that if she looked back, they’d meet in that space where no words were needed and everything would suddenly be too much.

And Soobin...

Soobin had never wanted anything more than he wanted to know what would happen if she looked at him right now.

Because this was worse than a crush.

It was gravity.

It was weeks of lingering glances and half-smiles and oh-god-does-she-know.

It was his fingers twitching with restraint.

It was the ghost of her lips still etched on his.

It was how good she had felt kissing him. The warmth. The softness. The way she had cupped his face like she’d been thinking about it just as long as he had.

He remembered that moment like a favorite line in a book he wasn’t allowed to reread. And now, here she was, turning pages again, breathing the same air, and not pulling away.

And it hurt. In the most ridiculous, hopeful, beautiful way.

Because maybe she remembered it too.

Because maybe she wanted to kiss him again just as badly.

Because maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t one-sided after all.

And so, Soobin sat there, heart thundering, body frozen, wishing he had the courage to close that last inch of space.

Wishing he knew for sure.

Wishing he could tell her that the kiss hadn’t ruined him.

It had remade him.

And now he didn’t know how to exist without her this close.

“Soobin,” she whispered suddenly, her voice soft but enough to make his heart lurch.

He turned, trying not to look too startled. “Yeah?”

She leaned her head back against the couch, eyes still on the screen. “What would your dragon stuffed animal think about us sitting this close?”

He blinked. Then laughed, nervous and breathless. “He’d be jealous, probably.”

“Oh?”

“He was very possessive.”

“Over you?”

He looked at her then. Really looked. And for once, she was already looking back.

A beat passed. Then another. And her smile shifted—gentler, softer. “I don’t blame him.”

Soobin swore the air in his lungs turned to static. “That’s, um. Bold of you to say.”

“I’m a bold person.” She popped another gummy into her mouth, her tone far too casual for the way his chest was currently caving in on itself. “You just never noticed before.”

He wanted to say, I notice everything about you. The way she chews her bottom lip when she’s thinking. The way her laugh always comes half a second after she covers her mouth like she’s still trying to hide it. The way she never finishes her coffee but always insists on making a fresh cup. The way she kissed him and ruined every song that used to mean nothing.

But his brain wasn’t functioning. Not with her sitting this close. Not with her warmth brushing against his side like she belonged there. So instead, he swallowed hard, cleared his throat, and said, “Not true. I’ve always noticed you.”

She turned to him again, eyebrow raised, the corner of her mouth twitching like she was trying not to smile. “Yeah?”

Her voice was teasing, but her eyes were hopeful. Curious. Like she wanted him to keep going.

So he did.

“I mean… freshman year?” Soobin shook his head with a soft, breathless laugh. “You used to walk across campus with your headphones in and that laser-focused expression, like you had a secret mission to complete.”

“I did,” she said, smirking. “It was called: avoid human interaction at all costs.”

He grinned, but there was something quieter in the way he looked at her now. Something almost reverent. “You were kind of intimidating, honestly. Not in a bad way. Just… you always seemed so far away. Like you were in a different world. Like…” He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “Like someone like me wouldn’t ever be in yours.”

She tilted her head. “Soobin…”

“Y/N, really, how could I not notice you?” he said, eyes meeting hers now, voice a little steadier. “Even when I tried not to. You were just—there. Always. In your own orbit. And I’d see you in the library or walking past the café and I’d feel like I was watching a movie I wasn’t in. Like I wasn’t supposed to talk to you. Just… admire from a distance.”

Her breath caught, and the playful spark between them simmered into something softer.

“And last semester,” he continued, barely above a whisper, “when we had that one class together? I used to wait an extra minute before leaving so I’d run into you by the doors. I timed it. Almost every week. Even though I never said a word.”

She blinked, her voice just as quiet now. “You noticed me like that?”

He smiled, a little shy, a little proud. “I always noticed you like that. And now,” he added, voice quiet, “now it’s like—I walk into a room and I look for you without even realizing it.”

There it was.

The truth, not just in his words but in the way he said them—gentle and careful, like he was offering her something fragile.

Y/N stared at him, blinking slowly, like maybe her brain was catching up too.

“I didn’t know,” she said after a moment. “I thought I was the only one who… noticed.”

“You weren’t,” he said, almost in a whisper. “You never were.”

Silence stretched between them, golden and warm. The movie played in the background, forgotten.

“So,” she started, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “hypothetically speaking… if someone were to want to kiss you again—like, let’s say they did it once, and it was sort of unexpected but really good—would that person be totally out of line if they… wanted to do it again?”

Soobin’s brain blue-screened. Rebooted.

“I—uh. I mean. Hypothetically?”

She nodded, pretending to study the credits now rolling across the screen. “Mhm. Totally hypothetical.”

“I think… that person would be very, very in line.” He smiled, shy but sure. “In fact, they might even be doing the universe a favor.”

Y/N turned back to him, eyes bright, cheeks flushed. “Oh. That’s good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She bit her lip. “Because I’ve been dying to kiss you again.”

Soobin let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, all tension and disbelief. “Then you should.”

She tilted her head, playfully skeptical. “Just like that?”

She didn’t say anything right away.

He nodded. “Just like that.”

Just looked at him, really looked — the way someone might look at a constellation for the first time, like connecting the stars finally revealed the shape of something they’d been trying to understand all along.

Soobin felt suspended in that gaze, like the world had narrowed to this one fragile thread between them.

And then—

“Okay,” she whispered.

“Okay?” he echoed, blinking.

It took him a second to believe it.

And another to move.

But then he was leaning in, just a little — so slowly it almost hurt — like he was afraid she might vanish if he moved too fast. His eyes flicked to her lips and back up again, searching for any sign that this wasn’t real. That maybe he was dreaming on his too-small couch and any second now his phone would buzz and shatter everything.

But she was still there.

Closer now.

And when her eyes fluttered shut, he closed the space between them.

The kiss was careful at first. Soft. Like the moment you dip into warm water — tentative, unsure, until it wraps around you and makes you forget you were ever cold. Her hand found the side of his neck, featherlight, and he melted under the touch. His fingers barely brushed her jaw, scared to startle her, but needing to hold on to something, anything.

She tilted her head just enough and deepened the kiss, and that was it — Soobin forgot his own name. Forgot where they were. Forgot how to breathe.

She tasted like the strawberry gummies she’d been eating earlier, sweet and a little tart, and Soobin knew—knew in the deepest, most irreversible way—that he would never eat one again without remembering this. The soft press of her lips. The warm weight of her hand on his chest. The way everything else had gone quiet.

And then her fingers moved.

Slowly, deliberately, from his collarbone to the curve of his shoulder, tracing the fabric of his shirt like she wanted to memorize it. It was barely a touch, really—just fingertips. But to Soobin, it might as well have been a lightning strike. His breath hitched, and suddenly every nerve ending he’d ever had was tuned only to her.

She shifted closer, knees bumping his, and the couch dipped slightly beneath her weight. Her palm splayed gently across his chest now, grounding him, and he realized with a dizzy sort of awe that she could probably feel his heart trying to punch its way out of his ribcage.

Still, she didn’t pull away.

Soobin’s hand moved almost without thinking. He touched her waist first, tentative, unsure, but she didn’t flinch. If anything, she leaned in, her hand sliding up the back of his neck and curling into his hair. That single, confident tug—barely even pressure—made him exhale, made him melt.

Every new point of contact felt like a secret shared. Her thumb brushing the hinge of his jaw. His fingers trailing along her side until they rested at the dip of her spine. Her knees tucked closer to his thighs now, her body warm and real and so incredibly close.

Soobin pulled back just enough to look at her.

Her lips were parted slightly, her eyes heavy-lidded but watching him with something soft and certain.

“You’re really here,” he whispered, like the words might help him believe it.

She smiled, fingers still in his hair. “Where else would I be?”

He didn’t answer. He just leaned in again—this time with a little more urgency. Like he couldn’t bear the space between them. Their mouths met again, and this kiss was messier. Fuller. Her hand slid down from his hair to his cheek, then lower, tracing the line of his throat, and he shivered at the contact. He held her tighter now, one arm wrapped fully around her waist, the other cradling the back of her head like she was the most precious thing he’d ever touched.

And maybe she was.

Every move felt sacred. Like permission. Like a promise.

The kiss deepened slowly, a lazy build of heat and gravity, like neither of them wanted to rush what was happening but couldn’t stop leaning closer, falling harder. Soobin’s thumb brushed over her waist, back and forth, anchoring himself to the soft curve of her. Her fingers were tangled in his hair again, guiding him, holding him there like she couldn’t get enough either.

And then—A sound.

Barely audible. Just the faintest, breathy moan against his mouth. Soft and helpless, like it had slipped out before she could stop it.

It shattered him.

Soobin stilled for half a second, heart thudding wildly in his chest. Every thought, every carefully constructed dam of restraint he'd built in the last five minutes cracked at once. His pulse roared in his ears. That one sound had lit a fire low in his stomach, something raw and wanting and entirely new. It was the sweetest thing he's ever heard.

His hand tightened at her waist. The other cradled the back of her neck, tilting her head just slightly to kiss her deeper, fuller, like he was starving and she was the only thing that could keep him breathing.

She didn’t pull away.

If anything, she clung to him, fingers curling tighter in his shirt, nails grazing the back of his neck. Her lips parted willingly beneath his, that same quiet sound escaping again—and he swore he felt it vibrate straight through his bones.

He made a sound then too, low and nearly a groan, something desperate and reverent all at once. He pulled her impossibly closer, their chests pressed together now, her legs shifting to hook around his, as if she couldn’t stand another inch of distance either.

“God,” he whispered against her lips, voice wrecked and shaking, “you’re gonna kill me.”

She smiled, flushed and a little dazed. “Not unless you kill me first.”

And then she kissed him again.

And again.

And Soobin, hopeless and breathless and completely gone for her, let himself fall—hands everywhere, heart wide open, tasting strawberry and summer and everything he’d ever wanted in a single moment that felt like it might never end.

After five or maybe five hundred kisses, they were still tangled up on the couch, sunk into the cushions like gravity had given up on them. Her legs were draped over his, one of her hands absentmindedly playing with the drawstring of his hoodie, and Soobin was pretty sure this was the happiest he’d ever been while doing absolutely nothing.

But also—he was dangerously close to combusting.

His brain was short-circuiting from the way she kept looking at him, from the way she was still holding onto him like she didn’t want to move. Like maybe she liked being here just as much as he did.

He cleared his throat, shifting slightly beneath her.

“So,” he started, trying to sound casual and immediately failing. “Um. I know the couch is… like, peak couch. Very comfortable. Lots of personality. But… uh. Do you… maybe wanna see my room?”

Y/N blinked at him, eyebrows lifting. “Your room?”

He panicked. “Wait. That sounded like a line. I didn’t mean it like that. Not—not in the ‘hey baby, wanna see my room’ kind of way.”

She grinned. “So not in a ‘Netflix and chill’ kind of way?”

“I mean… Netflix is already playing,” he said, eyes wide, heart pounding. “And there’s no chill. I’m literally sweating.”

She burst out laughing, collapsing a little more into him, her forehead landing lightly on his shoulder.

“I just—” he tried again, helpless. “You’ve never been in there, and I—I thought you might want to see my shelves?”

Y/N tilted her head up at him, biting her lip to hold back her smile. “Your shelves.”

He nodded solemnly. “Very elite shelving. Tastefully curated. Zero dust. An emotionally significant penguin figurine.”

“You had me at emotionally significant penguin.”

He grinned, then stood up, offering her his hand in that awkwardly formal way of someone both pretending not to be nervous and simultaneously vibrating with nerves.

She took it easily, lacing her fingers through his.

“Lead the way, Mr. Curated Shelves.”

As he guided her down the hall, Soobin could feel his pulse in his ears. He almost tripped over his own slippers, bumped into the wall once, and still managed to keep talking, because silence would be worse.

“I cleaned it recently, by the way,” he babbled. “Not just because you’re here, but like, maybe a little because you’re here. But also because I spilled ramen on the rug. That’s unrelated.”

“So this is a room of mystery, drama, and noodles.”

“I contain multitudes,” he said, eyes wide. “Please keep expectations low. There are Funko Pops.”

She squeezed his hand. “Soobin. I’m excited.”

That made his heart do a strange flip.

He opened the door and stepped back dramatically. “Behold. My domain.”

Her eyes immediately scanned the room, and her entire face lit up. “Oh my god, it’s so you.”

There were books, game controllers, a surprisingly well-made bed, and a color-coded manga shelf. And on top of it all sat a small, slightly lopsided pirate penguin.

She gasped. “Is that Captain Waddles?!”

Soobin groaned. “I can’t believe I didn’t hide him.”

“You better not have. He’s perfect. Does he still fight dragons?”

“He’s retired. Writes memoirs now. Very private.”

She giggled and walked further in, taking it all in like she was in a museum. And all Soobin could do was watch her.

Because she was here. In his room. Holding his penguin. Smiling like she meant it.

And Soobin couldn’t remember a single time he’d been this happy to share a part of himself.

He’d always kept this space kind of sacred, honestly. Not in a “no girls allowed” kind of way–because it's not like any girl would've wanted to go there–, but more like… this was the one place where he could be entirely himself. No social filter, no worries about fitting in or looking cool. Just him, his comics, his odd collection of trinkets, and the quiet.

So the fact that she was standing here—in her little hoodie and mismatched socks, looking around with open curiosity and warmth instead of judgment—felt like someone had cracked open a window in his chest and let the light in.

“Your bed’s made,” she said, mock-suspicious.

He flushed immediately. “Okay, yeah. That was for you.”

“Busted.”

“I panicked!” he cried, flailing slightly. “I’ve never had anyone in here before! Especially not someone I’m—uh, I mean—”

She looked up at him, eyes gleaming. “Someone you’re…?”

“Fond of,” he finished weakly, like that was the word his brain landed on in sheer desperation.

“‘Fond of,’” she repeated, walking over to him slowly. “That’s such a Soobin word.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re ridiculously cute and kind of tragic.”

“I—wait, tragic?”

“In a very charming way,” she added quickly, eyes dancing.

Before he could defend himself (he was working on something involving honor and slander), she sat on the edge of his bed and patted the spot beside her.

He went, obviously.

And when their shoulders touched, the silence that settled between them wasn’t awkward at all. It was full of electricity. Of things not said. Of all the tension that had been slowly building like steam in a kettle.

Y/N reached over and picked up a small, laminated Pokémon card from his nightstand.

“Is this... holographic?” she asked, holding it up to the light. “Oh my god, is this a first edition Charizard?”

Soobin lit up. “Yes! Yes, it is. I kept it in a binder for years. I traded like three Digletts and a shiny Eevee for it in eighth grade. Honestly, daylight robbery.”

She looked at him like he’d just handed her a national treasure. “I love that you still have this.”

“I love that you don’t think I’m a total loser for it.”

She smiled, softer now. “How could I? This is… you. All of this is you. And I really like you, Soobin.”

That was it.

The sentence that rearranged everything inside him.

He turned to face her fully. His hand brushed her knee—lightly at first, but when she didn’t pull away, he left it there, grounding himself.

“Yeah?” he asked quietly, voice a little hoarse. “You like me?”

She leaned in just enough for him to feel her breath on his cheek. “Yeah. A lot, I thought I've said this already.”

He didn’t know what to do with that except feel it. All of it. The butterflies, the warmth, the urge to throw himself out the window in a happy spiral. But also—he couldn’t let the moment go without being Soobin about it.

“So like, on a scale from ‘appreciates my book organization’ to ‘would still talk to me if I told you I cried during Spirited Away’…”

She grinned. “You cried during Spirited Away?”

“That scene with Chihiro’s parents! They’re pigs! It’s devastating!”

She was laughing again, tipping into him, and this time when their noses bumped, neither of them moved back.

“Okay,” she whispered, her fingers toying with the sleeve of his hoodie. “So what’s next, Mr. Curated Shelves?”

He looked at her mouth. At her eyes. At the girl sitting on his bed, who somehow made him feel less alone just by existing.

“I think I kiss you,” he whispered.

And she smiled like she’d been waiting for that.

Just as Soobin was about to lean in—heart thudding, eyes locked on her smile, hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair from her cheek—the front door slammed open.

“GUYS. SOUND THE ALARMS. SOUND THE ACTUAL, LITERAL ALARMS.”

A beat of silence.

Then—thunder. Pounding paws, frantic snuffling, and then—“WHAT THE—” Soobin yelped as a blur of fur and chaos charged into his room at the speed of light and body-slammed them both on the bed.

Y/N shrieked. “WHAT IS HAPPENING?”

“I FOUND A DOG,” Beomgyu announced, bursting dramatically into the room, panting like he’d just run a marathon. He was holding a lightsaber in one hand and a half-drunk can of Monster in the other. “HER NAME IS RONNIE. SHE IS MY DESTINY.”

“WHAT?!” Soobin was being smothered by floppy ears and enthusiastic dog kisses. “WHY IS SHE ON MY BED?!”

“She chose it,” Beomgyu said solemnly. “She chose you. She is imprinting. Like in Twilight.”

“Oh my god,” Y/N wheezed, trying to sit up as Ronnie, tail wagging wildly, climbed over Soobin’s chest to lick her face.

“She’s licking me!” Soobin cried, flailing helplessly. “She just stepped on my neck!”

“She’s asserting dominance,” Beomgyu nodded wisely. “You must accept her leadership now. You are part of the pack.”

“I was about to kiss Y/N!” Soobin shouted, still being steamrolled by a very excited Ronnie.

Beomgyu gasped. “Oh my god. Did she ruin the moment? That’s so Ronnie-coded.”

“She full-on flew into the room like a missile,” Y/N laughed, petting Ronnie’s head. “How did she even get in?”

“I gave her a dramatic speech about how sometimes in life, we find what we weren’t looking for. Then she followed me home. I think we’re soulmates.”

“She’s a dog,” Soobin muttered, now sitting up with his hair sticking in eight different directions.

“She’s a vision,” Beomgyu corrected, absolutely starry-eyed. “Also, she chewed through my phone charger, so now I think we’re trauma bonded.”

Ronnie barked once, loudly, like you’re welcome for the vibe check.

“She’s kind of cute,” Y/N said, giggling as Ronnie shoved her snout under her arm and curled up next to her.

Soobin looked at them both—Y/N, smiling and relaxed, Ronnie snoring now like she owned the place—and sighed dramatically. “Great. Replaced. By a dog.”

“Oh come on,” Y/N grinned, nudging his knee. “You’re still in the top two.”

Beomgyu flopped onto the edge of the bed, somehow holding a bag of chips he hadn’t had five seconds ago. “This is the happiest I’ve ever been. The gang’s all here. I’m starting a group chat called Ronnie’s Guardians. Soobin, you’re emotional support. Y/N, you're her style inspiration.”

“I am none of those things—” Soobin began.

“Shhh. Let it happen.”

Ronnie let out a contented sigh, tail still thumping lazily against the comforter, as if to say this is my bed now.

And even though the moment had been completely derailed, Soobin couldn’t help but smile.

Because Y/N was still next to him. Laughing. Petting a dog neither of them knew existed ten minutes ago. Looking at him like maybe, just maybe, that kiss would still happen later—

Even if they'd have to work around Beomgyu and his emotional support goblin dog to make it happen.

And Soobin? He had never been happier.

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profiles: d&d saturday mass group | bling bling losers

author's note: HI I'M BACK! i know it was overdue, but here i am with yet another cute CUTE c u t e chapter hehe. I got my dog bc she followed me home and jumped on my bed just like ronnie did to beomgyu so i guess i got inspired by that! also, y/n is the coolest i cant!!! i hope you guys enjoy it, what do you all think?? a little spoiler: the gangs are going on a trip hehe

ALSO adult life is no joke, i'll tell you that! i've been so busy and tired that when i get home i just fall sleep! i'm so upset i can't update as often as i'd like to, i'm really sorry guys thank you for understanding! i'm trying my best bc it brings me so much joy, and i can tell makes you guys happy too!! i'll reply to everyone now hehe anywaysss thank you so much as always <3

taglist: @heejamas @mingyustar @wintereals @mimimiloomeelomi @wonderstrucktae @delirioastral @gomdoleemyson @i03jae @irishspringing @bunniwords @kirbrary @sirenla @saladgirl @beomieeeeeeeeeeees @uvyuri @imlonelydontsendhelp @haechology @sanriwoozzz @stormy1408 @soobinieswife @ijustwannareadstuff20 @soobskz @jkeydiary @imnotsureokay @nyanzzn @lostgirlysstuff @lilbrorufr @beomgyusluver@lveegsoi@pagesoobinie @catpjimin @t-102 @sh0dor1 @i-am-not-dal @bbeomgyucafe @damn-u-min-yoongi @https-yeonjun

#txt au #txt #txt fluff #txt x reader #soobin #choi soobin #txt x female reader #txt smau #soobin smau #soobin x reader #soobin x you #txt fake texts #txt imagines #soobin imagines

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solaris-flare-blog · 2 months ago

Text

Stargazing and Stuttering

Pietro Maximoff X Shy!Reader

Oneshot

The night air was cool on the avengers compound rooftop, the stillness of the evening felt comforting, even in its vast emptiness. Above you and Pietro, the stars sprinkled, far too many to count, casting a soft glow that illuminated the edges of the quiet space. The compound was peaceful for once, no mission, no chaos, just the calm silence that you two were in. You sat with your knees tucked up, your arms wrapped around them trying to ignore the way your heart beat a little too fast just from sitting next to him.

Pietro Maximoff

You weren’t sure when this started, this fluttering feeling in your chest whenever he was around. Maybe it had been the first time he saved you in battle, teasing you about how he knew you’d be safe because he was there. Or maybe it was the way he always found his way next to you after missions, checking in with you in that quiet, subtle way that wasn’t too overbearing but always made you feel… seen.

Now, you were here, sitting on the rooftop with him, the cool night air brushing over your skin, and all you could focus on was how close he was.

His shoulder barely grazed yours, and every time he shifted, you felt like you might spontaneously combust.

“You are very quiet tonight, printsessa,” Pietro murmured, tilting his head to the side as he gazed at you with that knowing, amused expression.

You swallowed, cheeks already burning. You wanted to say something, but words were hard when he was this close, when his voice dipped into that soft, teasing tone that made your stomach flip. Instead, you just shrugged, biting your lip as you looked away, pretending to focus on the stars.

“Mm,” Pietro hummed knowingly. “You always do that when you’re nervous.”

Your breath was caught in your throat. “Do what?” You asked, barely above a whisper.

He shifted closer, his presence impossibly warm despite the night chill. “This,” he murmured, his fingers brushing against the sleeve of your hoodie. “You get so quiet. So shy. But I think you forget—“ He leaned in slightly , his voice dropping to something softer, more intimate. “I am fast, but I notice everything, dragă.”

You sucked in a breath, your fingers tightening around your knees.

It wasn’t fair, how easily he could flustered you, how effortlessly he could make your brain short-circuit with just a look.

“Pietro, I-I don’t—“ you stammered, words fumbling over themselves, your face burning hotter by the second.

He chuckled, but it wasn’t mocking. It was soft. Gentle.

Affectionate.

“I know,” he whispered. “I know you get nervous.” His hand moved slowly, hesitantly, before resting over yours, his fingers barely curling around them. “And that’s okay.”

Your heart thumped so loudly you were sure he could hear it. The warmth of his hand was grounding, but it only made the butterflies in your stomach more intense.

You didn’t move. You couldn’t.

Pietro was so close now you could see the soft silver strands of his hair catching the light, the way his blue eyes reflected the sky like tiny galaxies of their own.

“Can I tell you something?” He asked, his voice almost too soft to hear over the breeze.

You swallowed thickly and nodded.

“I have wanted to do this for a long time,” he admitted, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a slow, soothing motion. “But I didn’t want to rush you. I know how you get. And I never wanted to make you uncomfortable.”

Your chest tightened at his words. It wasn’t just that he liked you, it was that he understood you. He always had.

“I-“ you tried to speak, but your voice failed you. You felt frozen, like if you moved too fast, the moment might slip away.

But then Pietro smiled, that warm, lopsided smile that made everything feel a little less terrifying.

“It’s okay,” he reassured you, squeezing your hand lightly. “I will wait, if you need me to.”

Something in you cracked at that, that tight grip of fear loosening just enough for you to let out a shaky breath.

You shook your head, your fingers finally twitching to life beneath his. “I don’t- I don’t want you to wait,” you whispered.

Pietro’s eyes flickered with something unreadable before softening completely.

“Then I won’t.”

And then, so slowly it was almost agonizing, he leaned in.

You barely had time to process it before his lips brushed against yours, tentative, testing, waiting for you to pull away. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

Your eyes fluttered shut as the warmth of his kiss spread through you like wildfire. It was gentle, sweet, filled with the quiet affection he always gave you. He wasn’t rushing, wasn’t overwhelming, he was patient, giving you time to adjust, breathe, to feel.

When he pulled back, he stayed close, his forehead barely resting against yours. His breath was warm against your lips, and you realized you were still gripping his hoodie, holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping you from floating away.

“You okay, dragă mea?” He murmured.

You nodded cheeks burning, eyes still closed because looking at him felt too much.

He chuckled lightly, nudging his nose against yours. “So shy,” he teased, his voice dripping with affection. “But very, very cute.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Pietro-“

“Oh my god.”

The voice cut through the moment like a knife, making you both jolt apart. You turned just in time to see Sam Wilson standing near the rooftop entrance, a look of pure exasperation on his face.

“Are you serious? That was the slowest first kiss I’ve ever seen in my life”

Your face burned as Pietro just smirked. Completely unbothered. “Not all of us are as single as you, Wilson.” he quipped draping an arm around your shoulders as if this was the most casual thing in the world.

Sam then made a gagging noise, throwing his hands up. “I knew it. I knew something was going on between you two. But, damn, watching that was painful.”

Pietro chuckled, his fingers causally twirling a strand of your hair between them. “Jealous?”

Sam scoffed. “Not even remotely. Just relieved I don’t have to watch another five months of awkward eye contact and blushing”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. Pietro, however, just grinned,

“C’mon, printsessa,” he whispered into your ear, pressing a kiss to your temple just to make you blush harder. “Ignore him. We have stars to watch.”

You peeked up at him, cheeks still burning, but you couldn’t help the soft smile that tugged at your lips.

Maybe this wasn’t so terrifying after all.

Maybe, just maybe, it was the start of something even better.

#pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff x you #pietro maximoff x fem!reader #pietro maximoff #mcu #marvel #marvel imagine #imagine #oneshot

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slavdollz4mangione · 2 months ago

Note

Imagine this: in the throes of hot, heavy, sweaty, headboard banging, romantic passion with Luigi, you got him so delirious that he goes in and out of speaking English and Italian. In a euphoric state, Luigi is no longer a boy from the Baltimore suburbs, but a revolutionary from the fields of southern Italy. He may even be Salvatore Giuliano incarnate.

FUCKAJJSSHSHSHSH do you want me to combust ? this just woke up something primal in my mind anon, i fear i might have to add this into a oneshot i’m currently working on…

me: i’m closing my fic requests for the moment

also me: continues to write drabbles and oneshots bc you guys send the most amazing ideas in my inbox

#jana’s inbox #luigi thoughts

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apparitionism · 4 months ago

Text

Real

Can’t believe tomorrow is a particular Wednesday already; this season has rushed in like the most foolish of fools, and as a result I’m rushing to push out this new holiday story... because I too am a fool. This is set post-series (including the nonexistent season), though not by much, as the first little bit will make clear. It’s kind of all about fallout. And who wants what, and why, and whether they’re willing to work, wait, and do other things that probably start with “w” to get it. Anyway, season’s greetings to all—and to all (including, eventually, Myka and Helena, I promise) a good night.

Real

“She’s back,” Artie announces one autumn night, and before anyone (Myka) can fully register what that might mean...

...she is.

Is, is, is... a distillation of so much of what Myka instantaneously knows again as possibility, as hopes and wishes jolting back to life, as again (still) the only presence that instantly makes Myka aware of herself as a body, one that responds with barely controllable fervor to that presence—that other body.

Artie goes on saying words, “reinstated” and “agent” among them, but the roaring of Myka’s blood drowns them out.

She fears she will spontaneously combust. She would rather spontaneously combust. That would be better than having to consciously keep from spontaneously combusting, in response to Helena existing, to her moving and speaking, in a proximity that Myka should prize but that her body, fervently responding, informs her is completely insufficient.

Myka escapes as soon as she can, to sit in the dark of her room, to sit and process, but her usual, reliable processing processes fail her.

They always have, where Helena is concerned.

All she does is sit, empty but for the replaying of Helena’s entry into the dining room, her stride so sure, her aspect so unlike the dismissive, shrinking shrugs of Boone... that had sent Myka’s soul soaring.

Helena had greeted them all with good humor, her manner and words to everyone so convivial. So convivial, but also: to everyone, and that is what finds clawed purchase in Myka’s heart, here in the dark.

Here in the dark, Myka viciously tells herself that she deserves no special acknowledgment. Why would you?

She also tells herself, This will get easier.

****

In some ways it does. For example, Myka’s shock at, and subsequent need to recover from, each new sight of Helena lessens somewhat. Or maybe it’s that her body becomes accustomed to absorbing the impact.

In others, it profoundly doesn’t.

Case in painful point: one evening when they’re all cleaning up after dinner, Claudia says to Helena, “So can I ask you something?”

“Clearly you can. You just did,” Helena bats back, in play, and envy stabs Myka.

“You’re as bad as Artie,” Claudia groans. “But here goes: are you still seeing that lady?”

Terror appropriates envy’s knife, gashing anew. Myka has not let herself begin to imagine how to get such a question answered, and here Claudia just says it while lowering a stack of dirty plates into the sink.

Helena’s airy reply: “Still the case. Obviously we’re long-distance at the moment.”

Something previously un-knifed in Myka collapses at that “obviously.” Obviously. Obviously. Obviously, the Warehouse return had not entailed a renouncing of Helena’s non-Warehouse connections. As Myka had obviously, she now sees, believed—hoped!—it would.

The depth and breadth of her error sends her to her room again, lightless, wounded, empty, waiting for time to pass until she once again has something to do.

Such as a retrieval with Pete.

The next one of which proceeds well—it’s not a big, dangerous deal, but rather a matter of a sad, not villainous, loner seeking connection via an artifact-compromised comic-book message board. Pete’s his enthusiastic self about the comics of it all, and Myka lets it lull her into a near-trance of this is how it used to be, before everything.

Until they’re on the plane home, when Pete says, “So H.G.’s back.”

“Thanks for the update,” she says, bracing herself, because of course that won’t be all, because that would be too easy.

“And what about that girlfriend?”

“What about her?” Well, that was stupid: asking some reflex question she doesn’t want answered. She braces herself again.

“You think she’s her one?”

That’s worse than she’d imagined. Myka doesn’t want to go anywhere near that Schrödinger-box, for fear that peeking inside would reveal a very dead cat. Would in fact be the deciding factor in that cat’s demise.

After a stretch of silence, Pete says, “Bet she’s not. So what are you gonna do about it?”

What does he mean? Do about the girlfriend not being, or being, Helena’s one? Do about Helena being back in the first place? She would rather avoid nailing that down—another let’s-not-look Schrödinger box.

“I’m going to ignore it,” she says.

“That’s not healthy. I mean, I get it, but it’s not healthy.”

He coughs ostentatiously. Meaningfully? Myka doesn’t know. Can’t tell. Won’t ask. She hates how she feels compelled to leave this cat in limbo too, just so she can shift away from any potential situational consequences.

If only she had resisted the pressure to shift her definition of love.

She tries for resistance now, even though it’s too late: “I’m not going to try to keep her from doing what she wants to do.”

He cocks his head in that exaggerated what-are-you-saying way. “I thought you might though. Try.”

Myka is tempted to demand, “Why would you think that,” but she knows why he would think it, and revisiting that fight is an impossibility. Especially now.

“But you’re not trying,” he says. His tone, though, ratchets down the danger. It’s a relief. “So why not?”

Now Myka’s tempted to give some indignant “I don’t have to justify my behavior to you” answer... and yet. She does owe him more than that. Especially now, having misled him so severely before, she owes him some decent measure of honesty. So she says it as plain as she can: “Because people should do what they want to do.”

“Huh.” He puts on his “thinking” face—the real one, not the cartoon. “But you’re not doing what you want to do.”

“What?” Myka says, playing dismissively dumb. Hoping he’ll give some dumb response.

“You want to stop her doing what she’s doing.” Myka shakes her head at that, trying to pretend it’s dumb, but Pete rolls his eyes. He sees the weakness. How can he be getting her so right in this when he got her so so so wrong before? But then again she’d got herself wrong... “So why wouldn’t you do what you want to do?” he finishes.

Want, want, want. Myka wishes he would quit using the word.

Yes it’s her fault for using it first. Yes she should have shut him down forcefully to begin with. Yes that applies to situations preceding this one.

In any case, wanting is pointless. It literally does not matter: its only product is empty space, a horrific gaping sink, a vacuum as vast as space itself.

So she says, as pedantically as she can, “Because if one person’s wants affect another person’s wants, that’s a different category of... you know what? Never mind.”

“You only ever say ‘never mind’ when you know I’m right.”

“What? I say ‘never mind’ a lot.”

“Which means...” He taps his temple.

“No. No it does not.” But she does smile.

Pete bobs his head as if she’s actually agreed with him, and so they end on a familiar, jokey note. It’s far better than they could have managed some months ago, in the immediate aftermath of their... mistake? Misunderstanding? Mismanagement? Misadventure? Misapprehension?

Stop dictionarying, she tells herself. Despite its being one of her default ways of trying to process confusion, it rarely delivers the clarity she seeks. At any rate, their short-lived whatever-it-was was a mis-everything.

She takes out the book she’s brought with her, H Is for Hawk, so as to fill her head with Heather MacDonald’s solitude rather than her own. She has lately found that overlaying her own thoughts with someone else’s ruminations is quieting, so she’s reading even more than usual... it beats sitting in darkness, waiting. Which she supposes means she should thank Helena (thank her) for her extensive new knowledge: of, here, grief and falconry, but also, the Wright brothers, Joan of Arc, India’s partition, séances in the 1920s, Salem’s witch hunts, various aspects of the Supreme Court...

Erudition must surely outweigh emotionalism Extremity. Enthrallment? Embitterment.

Stop dictionarying.

****

Relentlessly, the holidays approach. Myka tries to ignore them too, particularly their invitation to soften. Unhealthy, Pete’s accusation echoes.

But in speaking to Pete, Myka had lied: she isn’t really ignoring anything Helena-related. In a folder of significant size in her mind, she stores a cascade of spreadsheets in which she tallies and tracks as many of Helena’s movements, statements, interactions as she can, in as much detail as possible: e.g., it wasn’t enough for Myka to get Steve to tell her about his retrievals with Helena—those accounts, while captivating, were incomplete, secondhand—so she has made perverse use of her hard-earned Warehouse database access to read Helena’s actual mission reports, like some pathetic online stalker. They’re literarily significant, she tries to use as additional justification, ignoring the fact that no one other than Warehousers will ever know how or why.

It’s not that she’s hoping to gain insight from any of this; the activity is simply itself. A flat gather of data. For those spreadsheets.

Which she uses, of course, to torture herself, not least for her damning inability to gain insight. Thus proving Pete wrong: it isn’t ignoring things that’s unhealthy. No, it’s paying them attention—stupid, pointless attention—that causes disease.

That’s true, but Myka genuinely does not know how much longer she can suffer making herself sick.

Lovesick, she sometimes thinks... but that makes “love” too prominent in the mix. No, the “sick” is what matters, and it is chronic, not acute. Which means it must be managed rather than cured, and she will manage it, because she has to: because she is an agent and Helena is an agent and they live in the same house and say the same mutually polite “good morning” to each other each day.

Sometimes Myka wisps a wish, in the wake of one of those morningtides whose undertow she cannot reveal, that she could begin to shift her thinking, to try floating above rather than falling under, the better to work her way to commencing the actual ignoring.

But then Helena will talk to Steve about the particulars of his Buddhist practice, or to Claudia about a joint invention project’s feasibility, or to Artie about a disputed wrinkle of history, or even to Pete about, bizarrely yet bizarrely frequently, which menu items should be avoided at fast-food chains... and Myka enters each new datum into the spreadsheets out of avid habit, all while ferally wishing everything different—even, some days, heretically, Helena gone. And while castigating herself for having wished, before, so stupidly inchoately, pleading with the universe to let Helena come back. More: to send Helena back.

How very monkey’s-paw of you, she jeers, to leave out specifics. In particular, to leave out “to me.” Send Helena back to me.

Before Helena came back, Myka was lost; now she’s still lost, but differently. And if there is one thing Myka has never liked—in fact, has always feared—it’s change.

So in truth she can probably suffer making herself sick for quite some time. As long as nothing about the making—or the sickness—changes.

****

The days leading up to Christmas itself are blessedly busy. On the 22nd, Myka and Steve head to West Virginia to bag a problematic coal-miner’s lamp; the work keeps them away until Christmas Eve, and if Myka happens to linger a bit longer at the Warehouse after Steve goes back to the B&B once they’ve deposited the artifact... well, that’s because she’s very conscientious about filing reports in a timely fashion.

In fact, she lingers a lot longer, and she’s happy to arrive home to a mostly silent B&B... however, she is instantly deposited into precisely the sort of situation she’d hoped to avoid: she must walk past Helena, who is in the living room, alone, with the television on. Impossible to slink past undetected, and thus rude to try—particularly once Helena says, “Welcome home.”

How disorienting, for Helena to be here and to say that. Worse, the articulation seems to ring of... before. When Myka was special.

But she is imagining that. She must be.

“What are you watching?” she asks, though she doesn’t need to. Helena is watching the Yule Log.

“A strangely mesmerizing facsimile of a fire,” Helena says, without looking up. “Do I strike you as hypnotized?”

You strike me. Myka’s thought stops there, true as can be. Aloud, she says, “You know what it is, right?”

Now Helena looks up. She blinks at Myka and nods, oddly soft, childlike. “I consulted Google.”

Helena is absurdly fond of Google. Myka struggles to keep from finding this absurdly charming. She struggles similarly with the way in which Helena articulates the word itself—every witnessed occurrence of which is represented in the spreadsheets. so Myka is painfully aware of the way Helena puts a slight formal emphasis on both syllables, such that it sounds, in a capping absurdity, as if she’s saying she consulted Gogol.

Not that acquiring input from a dead Russian writer would necessarily be all that different, absurdity-wise, from having instant access to a towering percentage of the world’s collective knowledge. And Helena probably understands that congruence, if that’s what it is, better than Myka ever could.

Myka knows she’s thinking herself down treacherous paths; she should say goodnight and walk away. But it’s Christmas Eve, and she gives herself a present she shouldn’t want but feels she has earned, earned by ignoring—or, to the contrary, recording—so strenuously. She has done such hard work. So she lets herself ask, “Why are you so focused?”

“Pete gave me a choice: watch the Yule Log or talk to Myka. I believe he thought I would reject the former as unworthy of my attention. Yet here I watch, mesmerized.”

“Since when do you do what Pete tells you?” But thanks, I guess, for letting me know where I stand. She can’t then hold back a jab: “Anyway, shouldn’t you be spending the holiday with the famous Giselle?”

Helena blinks again. This time it’s not at all childlike. “That’s why he wanted me to talk to you. But to answer your previous question: since he told me he’s in love with you.”

He... what? “What?”

“You asked me since when do I do what Pete tells me. I’m answering.”

Keep up, Myka; keep up. “When did he tell you that?”

“This evening. As part of what I fear—or hope?—was intended as a Christmas gift.”

“For you?” That’s not keeping up.

“No.”

“Then for who?” That’s not either.

“Whom.”

“Well, excuse my grammar, but I’m a little weirded out.” This is the most extended conversation she and Helena have had since... before. That’s destabilizing enough to her ability to concentrate on words. but what, exactly, is she supposed to do with these words?

“Weirded out,” Helena says, an unexpected affirmation. “As was I. I wasn’t aware.” She makes a small “huh” noise, as if she has to bridge her way to what’s next. “That the two of you had been involved.”

Oh. Hence the bridge—but this is a shifting surprise. “I thought someone—Claudia—would have told you. Must have told you.” Must have, and that in turn must have contributed, Myka had been sure, to Helena’s lack of engagement. She’s always known your judgment was abysmal, she’d lashed herself, based on those must haves, and this is certainly fuel for that fire.

“Our discussions have been more focused on her future. And my past. And technology, of course.”

“Of course,” Myka says. And then, quick, before she loses her nerve: “It didn’t take.”

“Technology?”

“The involvement.”

“I gathered that from its current status.”

“Right.” The conversation, such as it is, should probably end here... but something is off. “Wait. You said he said he is in love with me.”

“Yes.”

Myka had believed it was over. All over. The idea of having to deal with it, with any aspect of it, in perpetuity, or at least with no clear sundown, preemptively exhausts her. And it rekindles her anger at the entire situation, at its utter pointlessness. “I don’t know what to do with that,” she says. She immediately regrets the admission.

“He said he’ll get over it.”

“Well, that’s something. I guess.” It comes out grudging, and that’s another admission Helena shouldn’t be privy to.

“He said you won’t.”

“What? Get over it? No, the problem was that I wasn’t ever in love. With him.” She’s saying far too much. She supposes it’s fortunate that she’s looking at this repetitively flickery video loop, rather than into Helena’s eyes. She supposes also that said loop is a reasonable metaphor for how her life has been proceeding. Lately. Before, and lately.

“He said that too.”

“I’m sorry, but you’re losing me.”

“Interestingly, he said a version of that as well.”

“That you were losing him?” Not hard to believe; sometimes Pete can barely follow a laser pointer.

Helena focuses her gaze on Myka again, adamantine. “That I was losing you.”

And just like that, Myka is through the looking glass. Trapped like Alice, trying to get out. “Why would you care?” she chokes.

Helena lowers her brow, a stern schoolmarm confronting an intransigent pupil. “Because as I mentioned, he said—and seemed quite certain—that you won’t get over being in love.”

Myka knows now what’s next. Helena is about to say, “With me.” Because once again: that fight.

Oh yes I will. That’s what the ignoring is for. When I work my way around to it, that’s what it’s for.

“I didn’t know,” is what Helena actually says, clearly taking Myka’s silence as affirmation of those unuttered words.

“Oh please. Like I could have been any more obvious.” Obviously. She says it with contempt at herself, past and present: what a pathetic moonstruck puppy.

“At which point?” Helena asks.

That’s a surprisingly troubling question. Timelines. Decisions. What did you know and when did you know it? What did you show and when did you show it?

“All I knew was how you responded. Not how you felt.”

Of course the former was all Myka herself had known, certainly at first, and their consonance surprises her. If only she could share that consonance, and her surprise in it, with Helena... but that seems too much like a reward, one that neither she nor Helena deserves. Again exhaustion: at their lack of merit. “I don’t want to play these games,” she says.

“Then don’t.” Was that a shrug? Did Helena really shrug?

“Fine. I won’t.” It’s childish, yet it feels like the best end she can manage tonight. You didn’t seek this out, she assures herself as she takes a first step away.

Before she can seal the escape with her second step, Helena says, “You might at least release me from this view.”

“You talked to me,” Myka says, doing her best to make it all go away. “You’re free.”

Helena turns from the flames too quickly for Myka to dodge being caught by the look. “I am in no way free.”

That is not my problem, Myka would like to maintain, but Helena’s gaze and tone are implicating, which is entirely unfair but still needs to be dealt with. She sits down next to Helena on the sofa. At a judicious distance.

Now they are both watching the Yule Log, which, indifferent to them both, continues its facsimile flicker. “I guess it is kind of mesmerizing,” Myka says after some time.

“We haven’t spoken much,” Helena rejoins.

“There hasn’t been much to speak about.” Without peril, Myka adds, internally, and by that she means, peril to me.

“On the contrary. But I’ve tried to ignore it.”

“So have I. I hear it’s unhealthy.”

“Perhaps. It’s Pete’s strategy as well, according to him,” Helena says. Then, following a throat-clear, “With regard to his feelings for you.”

Myka doesn’t need to clear her throat. “He’s the one who told me it was unhealthy.” Which puts her in mind of his ostentatious cough: it’s meaningful now. Ridiculous, but meaningful.

“Then I suppose we’re ailing, all of us.”

“I suppose we are. An epidemic of ignorance.”

Helena smiles a little at that. Myka can’t help but smile back, and she maintains it as Helena asks, light, “What is the prognosis?”

“Depends on the ignoring’s end result,” Myka temporizes.

“Pete maintains that ignoring something long enough makes it go away.”

Or it kills you, Myka might say, like cancer. But instead she stays light. As light as she can. “Maybe he’s right. No, probably he’s right.” She owes him that.

Now a pause. A wait. What’s next? “So is that where we leave it?” Helena asks.

Maybe it goes away. Maybe that’s what’s next.

Myka can see it, now: see the spreadsheets dissolving into unnecessarity, see herself not responding physically to Helena, see Helena becoming, in essence, like Pete: someone with a past version of whom a past version of herself made a mistake.

She hadn’t imagined, not before this minute, that it was possible. But now a road leads there.

Can she take that road? She looks again into the fire. The not-fire. It mocks her: Everything you really want turns out to be unreal. On the other side of some facsimilating screen. A mirage. She turns away from it, ashamed. She looks at Helena... for the moment, Helena is still real. Still able to render Myka’s resistance from her body, here in this moment by sitting quietly and watching fake flames, in the next by doing nothing more than breathing out, breathing in.

Myka has not yet taken that awful road. Not yet. One more try, she tells herself. But no, that’s not right. She’s never really tried. Never really. She’s waited—longer than she thought she should—and she’s hoped—harder than she thought she could—but that wasn’t trying.

So: one try.

It can’t be the try she might have made in the past, a desperate just-please-touch-me push. Under the circumstances, that’s impossible. So, what?

An olive branch? No, peace isn’t the right aim, even now.

Better, perhaps: something she wouldn’t have said before tonight’s... encounter. Something related to tonight’s encounter, something more real than she’s offered so far: “We fought. Pete and I.”

TBC

#bering and wells #Warehouse 13 #fanfic #Real #holiday (but not Gift Exchange)#sometimes I ideate Myka as just so very tired #of all the things but especially Helena-pressure #and how much more difficult she makes everything #particularly when there seems to be no compensation for withstanding that pressure #but hey Myka #it’s Christmas #so maybe some consolation will be coming your way #if you can wend through the conversational thicket

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selfindulgentramblings · 2 years ago

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“Fire and Water”

| markiplier x fem!reader

warnings: bit of an anxiety/depression spiral at the beginning, but it's not anything too intense. mark comforts the reader.

rating: fluff, comfort

word count: 557

notes: i've had a really shitty day so i decided to write this to try and cheer myself up. i hope you're not having a bad day, but if you are, hopefully it might cheer you up too :)

☆⭑✦⭑☆

Your face had never felt so hot. Your vision was too fuzzy to determine who was the culprit; shame, anger, or the tears that refused to spill from your eyes. You had no way to tell. All you knew was that your bones felt brittle, like dry branches, and your muscles ached with the strain of burning them to the point of cracking.

Today had been the worst day you'd had in a while. Nothing was going your way, and it felt like no one was listening to you. You had the urge to crawl into a hole, and never speak to anyone again. Sounds a lot better than the hell that was today, anyway.

You forced your body up the walkway to the front door, nerves on fire from the effort. Clouds filled your head, making it harder still to see. You pulled your hand to the door and used all your might to open it. The weight felt as though it just might kill you. You were a little surprised it didn't.

Your bag slumped off your shoulder and to the floor before you could even process it slipping. You barely noticed the loud thump when it hit the ground, or your boyfriend hollering a greeting from the other room. The only thing you could hear was your heart in your throat. Your feet weighed 1000 pounds, effectively gluing you in place. You studied the hardwood beneath your feet like your life depended on it. You simply couldn't bring yourself to move another inch, for fear that if you did, all the heat that's been building inside you would combust, leaving you nothing but a pile of ashes.

"Love?" Mark said softly. Wasn’t he in the other room? Surely you would’ve noticed him coming in, you thought.

He gently placed his hand on your shoulder, causing your head to snap up and meet his eyes. You finally let go, tears pouring freely down your face. You stumbled into his arms, pressing yourself so tight into his chest that you nearly crushed him. "I'm here," was all he said, his hands finding rest on top of your head and on your back, pulling you impossibly closer to him. That was enough to send waves crashing through you, your knees buckling beneath you. Just being in his arms, the smoke in your head was clearing, and the fires were put out.

He began to run his fingers through your hair, his touches feather light. You slowly started to match his breathing, your once pounding heart steadily calmed. You closed your eyes against Mark, breathing in his familiar scent, relishing in the feeling of being swallowed.

"Bad day?" Mark said gently, once you had fully relaxed into him. You hummed, the sound muffled. He smiled. You raised your head slightly, not enough to break from his hold, but enough to see his face.

"I love you," you said, tired eyes and ghostly smile tracing your usually bright features. Mark reached down, running his finger along the edge of your face, and stopping to hold you. You were the most precious thing that had ever been in his hands.

"I love you too, special girl. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. We can take it slow. I'm not going anywhere. I'm not going anywhere."

#markiplier #markiplier x reader #markiplier imagines #mark fischbach x reader #mark fischbach #comfort #fluff #hurt/comfort #self insert

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twoidiotwriters1 · 3 months ago

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Almighty (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: We love a mature love interest -Danny Words: 2,600 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Listen to: 'Feels Like' -by Gracie Abrams

XLI: Lester My Man, You're Scaring the Hoes

"The Throne of Memory, we need it now!" Lester exclaims while Peaches carries in Meg. "Calypso—Notepad?"

"Got it!"

"Stay with me, Meg, you're among friends now. You're in the Throne of Mnemosyne. Speak your prophecy!"

Meg opens her mouth, an oracle voice coming out smoothly.

The words that memory wrought are set to fire,

Ere new moon rises o'er the Devil's Mount.

The changeling lord shall face a challenge dire,

Till bodies fill the Tiber beyond count.

"Oh, no," Lester winces. "No, no, no."

"What?" Leo asks.

"We're going to need a bigger notepad."

"Surely the prophecy's done—"

Yet southward must the sun now trace its course,

Through mazes dark to lands of scorching death

To find the master of the swift white horse

And wrest from him the crossword speaker's breath.

To westward palace must the Lester go;

Demeter's daughter finds her ancient roots.

The cloven guide alone the way does know,

To walk the path in thine own enemy's boots.

When three are known and Tiber reached alive,

'Tis only then Apollo starts to jive.

Meg slumps forward and Lester holds her, shaking like a leaf.

"What was that? Buy one prophecy, get three free? That was a lot of lines." Leo scoffs.

"It was a sonnet. May the gods help us; it was a Shakespearean sonnet."

"That was all one poem?" Thalia frowns. "But it had four different sections."

"Yes. The sonnet conveys only the most elaborate prophecies, with multiple moving parts. None of them good, I fear. We will parse our doom later. We should let Meg rest—" Lester collapses next to the girl suddenly, having run out of energy.

"I'm sorry about Festus..."

Leo grins. "Nah, man. I can put him back together easy enough. I redesigned him so he's like a Lego kit, built for quick assembly!"

Lester nudges her discretely and speaks in a whisper. "Did you tell him what happened at the cave?"

"Yeah," Ara sighs. "He's made his decision. And it's fine, really. He's right, trying to foresee what the right choice is, that's exactly why Janus had so much fun harassing me all these years. You can't opt out of heartache."

Lester hums, eyeing her carefully. "So what now?"

"Now I gotta figure out my new body settings. I still feel like sleeping, but I don't know what will happen if I do. What if I wake up in Olympus? Or worse, what if I combust and die?"

"Many humans have turned into gods," Lester says simply. "You'll be fine."

"You have no empathy towards my issue," she says and continues before he can deny it, "I get it, it feels unfair to you. Just don't try to comfort me, you won't do it right. Not even I know what I'm sad about, I'm having trouble recalling what I lost."

During the funeral rituals for Heloise the griffin, Ara stands with Thalia, needing to speak with someone who might know what she's feeling. "When you became a hunter," she says, "weren't you scared about the whole immortality bit?"

Thalia chuckles. "To be honest, no. I've got no hopes of living long either way, you know?"

Ara looks at her, now taller than the hunter. "I was twelve when I met you, now we're the same age. You've done well so far, so why not consider you might live a few centuries?"

Thalia puts an arm around her shoulders. "To me, you're always going to be a kid, just like Percy. Immortality doesn't change how I feel, it only messes up time, which is something I was already used to since I was a tree for years."

Ara sighs. "Right."

"I'm sorry I can't help you, Birdy," Thalia says empathetically.

"It's almost like you were fated to be where you are," she shakes her head. "I don't feel that way. I feel used."

Thalia raises a brow. "Ara, whether the gods tricked you into it or not, you do good in the world, and it doesn't matter how it came to be."

"I guess," her voice cracks, "I just wish I hadn't been stripped of my own sense of self in order to do so. I'm not Ara anymore."

Thalia hugs her. "You've never been anything other than who you've always been, you just haven't gotten the time to get to know your new body, but trust me—If you weren't you, Leo wouldn't have looked at you the way he did after you fought Commodus."

"My moms told me you might be my dad," Georgie says, staring at Lester's shoes.

"I—I might be, Georgina," Lester blushes down to his neck. "I don't know."

"'Kay. Made this for you. You can take it with you when you go away."

She hands him a doll made with pipe cleaners. "Thank you. Georgina, if you ever need me, if you ever want to talk—"

"No, I'm good."

Lester is slightly hurt as the girl runs back into Jo's arms. Ara pats his shoulder. "Don't take it personally. If my dad—" her voice catches in the word. "If my progenitor had shown up claiming to be part of my life... that's just stupid. A parent looks after you when you're vulnerable, not when you're old enough to not need them."

"Those visions in the cave... you met your dad?"

"Must've been primal memories," Ara frowns. "From the day he left me at the orphanage."

"But you know his face now, you could—"

"He's dead." Saying it out loud feels like taking off the heaviest winter coat. "Killed by one of you."

"A god?"

"He died within the day of abandoning me—not a chance of vindication for that guy... his car stopped working."

Lester scowls. "Well, it must've been Aphrodite."

"She would've told me," Ara shakes her head. "I mean, why wouldn't she? A man who rejects her gifts isn't worthy anymore."

"Who, then?"

"Maybe he pissed off someone else on the way, maybe the fates kill off the parents of abandoned demigods. Thalia's mom died after she gave away Jason..."

"So he's dead."

"Yeah..." And then she sniffs, crying softly.

Lester stiffens. "I'm sorry..."

"I'm happy," Ara admits, "I've feared for years that one day he'd try to take me away from my parents and I wouldn't be able to say no because I'm underage..." she sobs. "I was scared of a man that didn't even care enough to feel anything towards me... I get it now, why I cling to my title."

"You don't wanna feel like your father was right," Lester concludes, deeply understanding her. "That you were a curse."

"Now I find out he's been dead all along, that giving me away was a mistake..." She crumbles and clings to Lester, who wraps his arms around her, slightly shocked. "I think knowing would've been enough."

The Waystation is packed with cheery-looking people, even Meg and Lester look that way. Even Ara.

"Okay," says Calypso. "We've interpreted some of these lines, but we need your help, Apollo. Maybe you could start by telling us what happened at the Cave of Trophonius."

Meg is quick to hand over the responsibility. "Don't remember much. You two go ahead."

Lester and Ara take turns talking.

"I don't mind the Oracle being destroyed, but I worry about Georgie. She's always felt connected to that place. And Agamethus... she likes him a lot." Emmie says.

"The last thing I want is to cause more pain to Georgina. I think, though, the destruction of the cave was necessary. Not just for us. But for her. It may free her to move forward."

"We cannot remain," Ara adds. "Agamethus told you that the other day, didn't he? You told me that."

Lester remembers. "True. Maybe he was ready for this."

"All right, then," Jo continues. "About the prophecy..."

"The first stanza mentions the new moon," Thalia comments.

"Time limit," Leo sighs, draping one arm around Ara's shoulders. "Always a dang time limit."

"But the next new moon is in only five nights," the hunter frowns.

"Bodies filling up the Tiber," Emmie quotes, "I assume the Tiber refers to the Little Tiber, the barrier of Camp Jupiter in California."

"Yeah. The changeling lord... that's gotta be our homeboy Frank Zhang. And the Devil's Mount, that's Mount Diablo, right near the camp. I hate Mount Diablo. Ara and I fought Enchiladas there once."

"I got hit by lightning," Ara winces. "Not fun."

Jo glances at them with concern. "So the demigods of New Rome are about to be attacked."

"I believe the first stanza is all of a piece. It mentions the words that memory wrought. Ella the harpy is at Camp Jupiter, using her photographic memory to reconstruct the lost books of the Cumaean Sybil. The details aren't important right now. My guess is that the Triumvirate means to eliminate the threat by burning down the camp. The words that memory wrought are set to fire." Lester explains.

Calypso scowls. "Five days. How do we warn them in time? All our means of communication are down."

"We gotta send someone," Ara replies. "Can't be the hunters, they'll attract attention. That without mentioning they've done too much for us already."

"Damn right," Leo nods at the girl. "You've done enough for us, T."

Thalia glances at Ara with a little grin. "All in a day's work, guys. But you do owe me a bottle of the Texas hot sauce you were telling me about, Valdez."

"That can be arranged," Leo smirks.

"Well and good, but we're left with the same dilemma. How do we get a message to California in five days?"

"Me," Leo declares casually.

"Leo," Calypso shakes her head. "It took us six weeks just to get here from New York."

"Yeah, but with four passengers. And... no offense, one of them was a former god who was attracting us all kinds of negative attention and had no means to deal with it. Ara and I were dragging your butts until you got your magic back. I'll be fine."

Everyone looks at Ara like waiting for the bomb to explode, but instead, she smiles. "You sure you got this?"

"I travel fast and light," he taps the table with eager digits. "I've covered that much distance before by myself. I can do it."

"I believe you," Ara says. "But you told Lester you wanted an easy life..."

"I'll just enroll late for the spring semester! Cal can help me catch up. Besides, it'll be good to see Hazel and Frank again. And Reyna, too, though that girl still scares me."

"I love Reyna," Ara says, maybe too fancifully, because Leo glances at her with a scowl.

"Yeah, well," he reaches for a piece of her hair and tugs to regain her attention. "My point is, I've got plenty of time to start that life. You guys don't."

Lester sighs heavily. "No, we really don't."

"So we've got one stanza figured out. Yippee," Thalia puts away her knife. "What about the rest?"

"I'm afraid the rest is about Meg and me."

"Yep," Meg nods while still eating. "Pass the biscuits?"

Josephine gives her the entire basket. "So the line about the sun going southward, that's you, Apollo."

"Obviously. The third emperor must be somewhere in the American Southwest, in a land of scorching death. We get there through mazes—"

"The Labyrinth," Meg offers.

Ara groans. "I hate that place. I don't care how dormant Chiron thinks it is."

"We must find the crossword speaker," Lester insists. "I believe that refers to the Erythraean Sybil, another ancient Oracle. I... I don't remember much about her—"

"Surprise," Meg taunts him.

"But she was known to issue her prophecies in acrostics—word puzzles."

"Sounds bad. Annabeth told me how she met the Sphinx in the Labyrinth once. Riddles, mazes, puzzles... No thanks. Give me something I can shoot."

"I remember the Sphinx," Ara tilts her head. "Whiny."

"And the third emperor? Do you know who it is?" Emmie questions.

"Meg," Lester looks at the girl. "what about the line Demeter's daughter finds her ancient roots? Do you have any family in the Southwest? Do you remember ever going there before?"

Meg hesitates a millisecond before replying. "Nah."

Lester and Ara share a knowing look. "Hey, though," Leo pipes in. "That next line, The cloven guide alone the way does know. That means you get a satyr? They're guides, aren't they, like Coach Hedge was? That's, like, their thing."

"True," Jo nods. "But we haven't seen a satyr in these parts since—"

"Decades," Emmie sighs.

"I'll find us one," Meg burps.

"How?" Lester frowns.

"Just will."

"I wouldn't mind a satyr. My friend Grover is one," Ara ponders. "Haven't seen him in months..."

"That just leaves the closing couplet: When three are known and Tiber reached alive, / 'Tis only then Apollo starts to jive." Calypso reads again.

Leo wiggles in his seat doing a funny dance. "About time, man. Lester needs more jive."

"Hmph." Lester adopts a haughty expression. "I believe those lines mean we will soon know the identity of all three emperors. Once our next quest is complete in the Southwest, Meg and I can travel to Camp Jupiter, reaching the Tiber alive. Then, I hope, I can find the path back to my former glory."

"By... jive talkin'," Leo sings out of tune.

"Shut up," Lester grumbles.

Leo and Ara watch the hunters from the rooftop as they leave, riding the army of ostriches.

"Man, this never gets old," the boy grins, leaning against her. "By the way, you know Lester has a crush on you, right?"

Ara snorts so hard she coughs. "Yeah, right," she glances down at the aforementioned, currently bickering with Meg as they return to the Waystation. "He can't stand me."

"He can't stand how nervous you make him," Leo retorts. "Trust me, that guy is hanging by a thread."

"His soul light ignites for others."

"I said he's got a crush, not that he's happy about it," the boy clarifies. "Soul lights only show people's positive emotions. I wasn't happy to be crazy about you after like a day of knowing you. You saw mine until I gave in."

Ara shifts in her place uncomfortably. "Is that why you volunteered to travel to Camp Jupiter? To make sure I'm not left alone with Lester for long?"

"Nah, it's never gonna happen between you two," he laughs. "He's all spectacle and you're all substance. He would fizzle out the moment he tried to touch you."

Ara blushes. "Don't be dumb..."

"Reyna, on the other hand," he raises his voice teasingly, turning sideways against the railing to face her. "That's a conversation we gotta have out. I don't see no soul lights, but I practically heard you moan her name."

The girl gets even redder. "Leo!"

"Listen, I won't hate if you tell me you feel some kind of way about her. I also love a girl that can step on me, Ripley from Alien could get it—"

"Leo!"

"I just feel like... like you're no longer mine to keep. And if you feel more in tune with her than with me... I just... I want to know."

Ara stares at him, shocked but not angry. "Are you serious?"

"About 90%."

She doesn't even know what to answer. "Just because I'm... whatever I am, doesn't mean I suddenly developed an interest in dating multiple people at the same time!"

"Yeah, no, but I don't know, I feel like I'm hoarding too much real state that needs more than one person to look after it—"

"Are you calling me property right now?"

"I'm calling you a freaking goddess on earth," Leo huffs, "who is worth so much more than I can offer. I won't give you up, but if you... if you feel like you want something better, or different, I—"

"Leónidas," Ara holds his face. "Yes, I have a crush on Reyna, but this is crazy talk."

"You're only saying that because you haven't settled into power yet," he grumbles through a pout. "Let it simmer and see if you're still happy having me as your only partner."

"You're crazy. But I knew that since the start." She kisses his nose. "I can't believe Lester sent you spiralling like this—We've been dating for more than a year, Cracker."

"Technically, it's been nine months. I went missing for six."

"You were my boyfriend, weren't you?"

"Was I?"

"Duh."

That's a good enough response for Leo, so he kisses her.

Next Chapter –>

Taglist.

@siriuslysirius1107 @ask-giggles1303 @im-planning-something-look @bandshirts-andbooks @coolninjapaper @thewaterlily @whenisthefall @1randomcomic @you-bloody-shank @sunflowergraves @owlalex44 @taylordaughter @typicalsolangelolover @writingmia @espressopatronum454 @slytherinnqueen @orbitingpolaris @obxstiles @ellipsisspelled @thepixiechicksh @ebony-reine-vibes

#twoidiots writing #leo valdez x oc #doo #leo valdez fanfic #pjo fanfic #toa fanfic

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psychosexualizing · 1 year ago

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save me forced fem oliver. forced fem oliver. forced fem oliver save me.

oliver is just so pretty, it makes felix's head spin. he first notices the way ollie's lashes curl just a tad upwards when theyre at a party, sat much too close together. to anyone else it would go over their heads, but not felix. never felix. it comes to a point where he thinks that oliver must know what he's doing when he looks up at him with those doe eyes, wide with adoration. he has to be teasing him when he laughs and the corners of his eyes crinkle just the tiniest bit.

felix says something. nothing of importance- he doesn't think so at least, but then there's ollie, batting those pretty lashes. once. twice. and christ if felix's heart could jump out of his chest, it would. he swallows thickly and god he needs fucking air.

ollie says something back, something felix doesn't quite catch because fuck his best friend is prettier than any girl he's ever seen. he fears if he doesn't leave soon he may end up combusting right there on the couch they're sat on.

"hey er- mate i think i might be sick. had a few too many jello shots, y'know?" felix leans in to speak in his ear, and fuck if that isn't a mistake and a half. oliver even smells pretty. how hasn't he noticed this before?

oliver must notice the way his breath hitches because he turns to face felix and oh fuck they're so close. he's going to hell for the thoughts that race through his mind when oliver cocks his head slightly, looking straight at him with his pretty girly eyes.

"what's up?" his voice is soft, gentle. what felix wouldn't give to hear him whimper.

"oh uh- well-" felix is stunned, he doesn't know what to say. he has to know. he has to. oliver's plump lips are pursed as he looks at felix with what he assumes is concern.

"just gotta go. i'll text you, yeah?"

he doesn't wait for oliver's response. he simply stands up and makes for the door, his heart and mind racing at a mile a minute.

god, he's going to hell.

#cattonquick #hi guys lol #i am so normal about them (lying)#this is just the BEGINNING of my thoughts.

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wickedxbored · 2 years ago

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Hey. Pro tip.

Don't bother paying AAA for the larger vehicle and camper coverage with the 200 mile tow range because when your pickup truck breaks down 2 hours from home they'll talk you into just leaving the thing for whenever they can find a driver, and oh by the way, we won't tell you when that might be or even deign to keep you updated on the process of retrieving the truck we made you LEAVE UNATTENDED WITH THE KEYS IN A RANDOM TARGET PARKING LOT. And god forbid you ask if they plan on covering the cost of TARGET towing the fucking thing when it's still there in the morning because they won't guarantee a timely retrieval, because the call center lady won't be able to comprehend that as even a possibility!

And your mother's recommendation will be to engage your birthright as a Karen and call back and demand to speak to the manager! Because a manager can absolutely fucking do ANYTHING about the fact that they seem to have no drivers willing to make the fucking drive, or the fact that you are already 2.5 hours away at your OWN HOUSE because they CONVINCED YOU TO ABANDON YOUR VEHICLE in a RANDOM TARGET PARKING LOT 2.5 HOURS AWAY!

It is 11:30 at night on a SUNDAY and I am going to fucking COMBUST because what feasible fucking option is there for an outlet to this RAGE and FEAR and ANXIETY this entire fucking situation has left me with!?!?!?

#i was holding it together until this last time we called them when we got home #but now i dont know what to fucking do #I'm stuck somewhere between wanting to cry and needing to hit something and neither is a real option #good thing i was already scheduled off work tomorrow because how the FUCK am i supposed to sleep #also i haven't eaten since 2 o'clock so that's awesome #story of my life #why the FUCK is it always the Maine trip

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anywayshapeorform · 2 years ago

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... hey, hm... how are you so vulnerable with people??

Vulnerable??? Me??? Why do you think that??

you see, when you talk to nova, and he says something sentimental, or when you speak about rose!! how can you say her name without... combusting???

It's a nice name. It's short and simple, so it rolls out nicely.

...

... Are you ok??

i feel like when i say someon- some people's names, i can't hide my tone and i fear i might end up revealing a bit too much about what i think... so sometimes i just... find it hard calling some people by their names. i wondered if you had the same problem

Hmmmm, I see :]

do not ":]" me in this book, i swear

Do you want to call people by their name? But it's too hard to do so because you are afraid you'll get used to the sound of it??

Oh the pen fell again.

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nezuscribe · 2 years ago

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𝖔𝖓𝖑𝖞 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖑𝖊𝖋𝖙 𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖛𝖊

summary: when a disease turns the world into an apocalyptic landscape, you join a group in order to survive. you find yourself drawn to a certain blue-eyed man for no explainable reason. though the two of you have your own pasts to deal with, the two of you grow closer and closer together. after all, it seems as though you’re the only lovers left alive

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader

genre: post apocalypse au, strangers to friends to lovers, slight angst, fluff, smut, some hurt comfort, inspired by some of the events from the last of us

word count: 16k+

warnings: 18+ mdni, some heavy-ish themes, mentions of suicide, smut, heavy making out, fingering, vaginal penetration, cum eating, slight begging, gojo is a teeny bit of a dick but overall just doesn’t know how to handle emotions

note: i did take some inspo from the last of us, so if you see something you might recognize, it’s because i most likely based something off of it. nothing too major though, but the infected here are like the ones in the game/show. i don’t want any comments saying i stole the idea bc i stg i’ll just combust

also a thank you for @jadeisthirsting for beta-reading again, love her!

You were glad that chocolate bars survived the apocalypse.

Those, along with chips (you don’t look at expiration dates anymore), crackers, and protein bars seemed to stand the tests of time.

The abandoned convenience store was harshly run down. The glass was shattered, and you could hear the crunch of shards underneath your boots whenever you walked up and down the aisles. Vegetation took reign in most of the area, and vines grew alongside the walls and the counters. Weeds sprung through the cracks in the floor and long blades of grass peeked in from the outside.

A lot of the aisles were already ransacked from those who came before, but you had to admit that this place was in much better condition food-wise than all the others you had seen. You loaded your cart with whatever you could find; cereal, bars, chips, instant ramen, jerky, really anything that wasn’t perishable by your standards.

You also made sure to stock up on medical supplies while you were here. Antiseptic, rolls of bandages, needles for stitching, medical tape. You were able to find a bottle of disinfectant and some rubbing alcohol, so you spent a couple of minutes cheering over the small victory.

The rays of sun that peeked through and washed out certain parts of the store a quiet orange made it seem more serene than it actually was, and you took your time as you leaned on the cart handle, walking slowly as you tried to pretend like you were just shopping for amenities like you would years ago, without the fear of the outside world trying to hunt you down the moment you stepped out.

Under your breath you hummed a soft tune, letting your fingers run over the empty shelves as you looked around.

Many opened boxes littered the ground. None of them were to your benefit so you just stepped over them, tapping something on your arm to keep your mind busy. It was only noon, so you had a couple of hours to waste before it got dark.

Though you had the hunting rifle near you in case anything popped out in front of you, you liked to pretend that there was no danger when you rounded a corner. It saved a little naive part of your mind to imagine that everything was normal when you knew that it wasn’t.

“...yeah, no, no, I agree, I just…”

You stopped in your tracks, air hitching in your throat as you went rigid upon hearing the muffled voices.

“I heard the bunkers in Kyoto and Osaka fell…radio transmission,” It was a female voice, that much you could make out. But assessing the sound of feet shuffling on the floor and the other sounds, you knew there had two be at least two people, maybe even more.

You couldn’t even remember the last time you had heard somebody speak. You tried to remember, raking your mind for when it was, and it must have been months ago, maybe even a year, and that was just a small encounter. You doubted the guy even saw you. And this is far worse, they closed and you have nowhere to hide without making a sound. They could be raiders or scavengers. One of them could be infected without the other's knowledge. Millions of thoughts ran through your head as you tried to rationalize with yourself.

“What happened to the one in Nara?” This time it was a male voice, and much closer than before. They were probably only a few aisles away until they reached you. You could feel your heart beating uncontrollably fast, rattling against your ribcage as your mind faltered on what to you.

“They’re not letting people inside. They deter anybody unless you have a pre-bought cabin there.” The first woman replied, and you could hear some glass clanking as she kicked an empty beer bottle (from what you could deduce), across the floor.

“How do you know so much?” Another male asked. Three so far, you made a mental note as you tried shoving all your food and things in any pocket you could find, shoving the big bottle of rubbing alcohol down your shirt to nestle on your bra. You didn’t risk your life trying to find this place just to have some strangers take the things you so desperately need.

“They play messages on the radio at night. If you didn’t go to sleep so fuckin’ fast you might hear something useful.” The first girl said, but there was no bite to her voice. She even chuckled, and you swore one of the other guys laughed too.

“Why can’t we just stay where we are? We haven’t seen any infected here.” Four. This time it was another girl's voice. So far, two females and two males. You were severely outnumbered. You doubted you were that skilled, even in all your years, to surpass four people.

Deciding to leave a few bars behind, you gingerly moved past the cart, making sure not to make a sound as you tiptoed across the broken bottles and glass. You held your breath and tried to hold onto your jacket, not wanting anything to fall out.

You tried to phase out whatever they were saying so you could stay focused. You squinted your eyes as rays of the sun blinded you when they peeked through some cracks in the ceiling. You shuffled slowly and precisely, your heart quite literally beating in your throat as moved around the debris on the floor.

You could see the double doors, both open as you let out an inaudible sigh of relief when you saw them, a promise that you weren’t going to die right here when-

CRUNCH.

You stopped, eyes slowly falling down to the comically large piece of glass under your foot, now shattered into a million pieces as you stop breathing. You wait for abated second, thinking nobody heard until you heard some clattering coming from behind you.

“What the fuck was that?” One of the girls asked, her laughter long gone from her voice as her question rang through the store.

“I don’t know…wait here…”

You could run, it wasn’t that far to the door, but you were frozen in your place. It was like when…you couldn’t even think about it. Your mind blanked, your limbs not moving despite your brain willing them to do something, anything.

It felt like that day all over again, the weakness and fear that overtook your mind and body as you shook, your legs cramping, your hands shivering as your eyes darted around, your lips clamped between your teeth as blood roared in your ears.

You wondered if you’d been faster or more agile something may have gone differently. But really, no matter what you were wouldn’t have altered the fact that you saw a blur of clothes from your peripheral, craning to look to your right as your eyes meet bright blue ones.

Your brows furrowed when the two of you locked eyes, your chests moving up and down as you looked at the weapon in his hand, drawn out, pointing at your head as you blinked, mind going into overdrive as you let out a heavy sigh of air.

He looked angelic and you wanted to smack yourself for that being your first thought. His hair was artic white, tainted a bright yellow as the sun shined over him. He had a sturdy jaw and a tall frame. Long and delicate fingers clutching onto a weapon, getting ready to pull it out the moment he saw you.

Sure, you could blame it on the fact that you hadn’t seen a man for over three years, but you knew that even despite your blurry and confused judgment he was better looking than most of the guys you’ve seen most of your life.

There were a few seconds where neither of you said anything, not really knowing what to say as you shifted ever so slightly on your left foot, not knowing if you ran to the door he’d shoot you in the process.

“Satoru?” A girl came in from behind him, looking at him and then to where his gaze fell until she saw you, a small aurora of surprise taking over her features.

“Stay with Geto,” The man said, his voice harsh as his eyes narrowed on you, his face unreadable but cold nonetheless as his focus never left your every tiny motion. Taking in all of your features, your clothes, your skin, your eyes. Anything that could give away that you were infected.

Your eyes darted from him to the girl to his side, not knowing who to look at. The person with the gun pointed at you or the one who stared at you as if you were an artifact, a token she hadn’t seen before.

“I’m not a threat,” You say after a couple more seconds of unbearable silence, your voice hoarse from barely using it anymore. You rub at your throat, wincing a little as you put your arms up to show that you have nothing in your hands, “I swear I’ll just leave and nothing else.”

The girl stayed where she was, gnawing on her lip as she shoved the man's arms with hers.

“She seems fine-”

“Seems doesn’t mean she’s not infected.” He snapped, never taking his eyes away from you as he pulled his elbow away from her grasp. His voice had a bite to it, sending chills that traveled down your spine. He had no emotion on his face, clear of anything human.

“I-I’m not infected.” You retaliate, taking a tentative step forward, watching as his grip on his gun became tighter, and taking a step back as he pushed the girl behind him. You put your arms up again, worried you were playing with fate as you slowly and carefully put your bare arms under a ray of light, making sure he could see your actions. You tugged on your sleeves, pulled down the collar of your shirt, and showed him your calves, anything to prove that you weren’t bitten.

“See…?”

You waited, his stare jumping from your face to your arm, different gears in his head turning as he debated what to do.

“‘Toru, she’s not infected,” The girl said, trying to nudge his hand so he’d lower the weapon, “She’s right, she’d be in pain right now if she was.”

But he didn’t move, his jaw ticking as he shook his head, seemingly still not believing you.

“How do I know you all aren’t infected?” You snapped, angry, as you tried to hide the quiver in your voice. They could be and they’re doing well to hide it.

“We’re not.” He said, his voice steady, confident, and not carrying any trace of a lie.

“What’s taking so long?” Another voice joined the three of you, a man, the same in height as the one in front of you as he clasped a hand on his shoulder, his brow cocking in surprise when he saw you. His hair was a stark black, pulled into a bun behind his head. Some strands had escaped and fallen out. He seemed far more easygoing than the man next to him, though. His eyes were brighter and his smile was genuine. He looked over to the side as the girl shrugged, worry lacing her features as he drummed his fingers in her arm. He looked back at you, giving you a tiny smile, “What’s your name sweetheart?”

“Doesn’t matter if you’d just let me go.” You said, your voice mirroring the white-haired man, the new guy’s lips pulling into a little grin as he let out a deep laugh.

“Drop the gun ‘Toru, she’s fine.” The new guy said with a laugh, stepping forward as you took one back, your lungs squeezing together tightly as you went to grab the weapon strapped on your back.

He raised his hands as you had seconds ago, trying to show that he wasn’t intending any harm as he took another step forward. The playful look he had on his face melted away, forming to something softer as he took in the cuts that littered your cheek and knew, the way your eyes darted from his hands to his face to detect any danger.

“Hello,” He started with a careful smile, not wanting to scare you off, “I’m Geto, but my friends call me Suguru,” He pointed to the girl behind him, “Vera even calls me dumb bitch-”

“Only when I’m mad!” She argued, shooting you an apologetic and embarrassed smile when she realized you were there too, and he snorted, continuing.

“And the blue-eyed freak is Satoru. Anna’s back there, somewhere. Swear we don’t mean any harm. He’s just,” He glanced behind him at the man who was slowly lowering the gun, his face still clearly telling that he was weary of you, “Cautious.”

He held out his hand, far larger than yours, for a shake.

You tilted your head to the side, eyes squinting a little bit as you tried to make out just what he was trying to do.

But you dropped your hand from grasping onto the leather strap of your weapon, your fingers stretching, itching for some human contact as you debated for a little bit. Surely but slowly you brought your hand to his, softly clutching it to see a smile overtake his features.

“Y/n,” You reciprocate with a small smile of your own, your chapped lips not used to the feeling. His fingers were long as they overtook yours, calloused, but human. They gave yours a gentle squeeze, almost as if he could tell, and you have one back. Something that you never realized you had missed up until this very moment, “My name’s y/n.”

He said your name once under his breath to commit it to memory.

“You going anywhere specific?” He asked, his hands crossed across his chest as he waited patiently for you to answer.

You swallowed dryly, in desperate need of some water as you pointed somewhere north.

“Heard there’s a camp somewhere in Takayama…you?”

He chuckled, nodding as if he couldn’t believe your words, looking behind him as the girl you guessed was Vera let out a small laugh too. The blue-eyed man, Satoru you deduced, stayed stoic, not giving anything away.

“By any chance are you talking about that one camp that has running water ‘n shit?”

You nod, not trusting your voice anymore as you blink.

“Nice,” He cocked his head in the direction of his group, the second girl, Anna, now walking in to see what the fuss was about, “That’s where we’re going too. Or at least, trying to. Care to join?”

You quickly learned that this group was different from your old one.

They were serious, sure, but everybody was given the predicament. They were on guard at any sudden noise, guns drawn and ready, but they still acted like you guess they would have back in their old lives. They made jokes, laughed at each other's stupid mistakes, and spent the days and nights filling the silence with whatever they could.

It was jarring, really, seeing how your old group of six never laughed nor had a moment of naïve fun, but you were far more fond of this than that.

“Damn, so you’re the youngest one here then?” Geto asked one day as you five trudged through an abandoned city. You looked up, mouth parted in slight awe as you took in the strange sights; abandoned skyscrapers, some tilting over a bit. Many were severely destroyed by the bombings. There were large craters on the ground, concrete slabs, and building chunks that fell into them. Geto nudged your side, snapping you from your trance as he waited for you to answer.

“Oh, um, yeah, I guess,” Your cheeks heated up in embarrassment, “Only by a little bit though. I was about to graduate high school when it started and I guess that was like what, five-ish years ago?” You couldn’t distinctly remember, time had just become a construct after so many months.

Vera and Anna had begun talking about how old they were when it started, and you had gotten roped into the conversation.

“You’re the baby of the group now!” Anna exclaimed, pinching your cheeks with a giggle as you laughed softly, looking down at the cracked concrete beneath your feet as your backpack thumped on your back with every step you took, “It's good though,” She whispered in your ear, “You can use it to get out of chores.” You snickered at that, rolling your eyes but thankful for the tip.

You found out that Anna was only a couple of months older than you. Then came Geto, who was a year older than you two, Vera was around as old as him, and Gojo was two years older than you.

“Wait, so you’ve been traveling alone all these years?” Anna was the one to ask as she walked closer to you, her brows pinched together in confusion,

You could have sworn it was an unspoken rule not to talk about the past unless somebody brought it up directly.

“No, no,” You shook your head as your nose wrinkled at the thought, “I was part of a bigger group. But we,” You looked away, at nothing in particular as a sharp pang ran through your chest, “We split up a while ago. That’s when I went solo.”

She nodded in understanding, pulling her hair back as she tied it up, fanning her face at the heat. The sun was beating harshly on your face, sweat prickling at your hairline as you squinted through the bright light.

“Was it hard?” Anna asked, clearly not picking up on your reluctance to the subject.

You swallowed, feeling like a part of your chest was heavier than it was seconds before as you cleared your throat.

“I, well,” You shrugged, stammering a bit, “A little bit, but I learned how to-”

“How’d you get your food?” She cut you off. You could tell she wasn’t trying to do any harm, her eyes shining with childish curiosity but it didn’t do anything to hide the fact that it quite literally felt like your throat was closing up.

“I would hunt or find whatever I co-”

“So you like being part of a group?”

“Yeah-”

“Did it ever get lonely?”

“Anna,” Gojo cut her off, his voice not loud but commanding enough to get everybody's attention, speaking for the first time in what seemed a couple of hours, “Calm down.”

Her eyes darted from you to him, finally noting the overwhelmed expression that you were trying your best to hide as she muttered out a quiet sorry. She moved to talk to Vera, and you were thankful that it wasn’t awkward as you went back to looking at the buildings.

You gave him a small nod, grateful, but he only blinked, looking away as he went back to listening to whatever Geto was telling him. You huffed out a small embarrassed laugh, not putting much thought into it as you kicked a pebble across the ground, feeling the wind tickle your cheeks as you tried to hold back the sting of tears in your eyes.

Gojo didn’t say much, even after you joined their group, and Vera told you it was normal and not to take it to heart. So you didn’t try to talk much with him, not wanting to push and prod at any of his boundaries. But he was nice otherwise, in his own ways. He took the night watch, letting you guys sleep, and insisted that he was fine with it. He was attentive, always giving the rest of his food to Anna when she complained about how hungry she was. He was cautious, as Geto would put it, but you couldn’t blame him. You were cautious too.

Did it ever get lonely? Her question rang through your mind. It was stupid, you’ve only known her for a short amount of time. Hell, you’ve only known these people for a couple of weeks but it felt like she had dug a hot iron into your chest with the simple query. It was pathetic, really, but it was that thing where the more you tried to stop yourself from crying the worse it became, and that seemed to be true right now.

You fell behind a little bit, not anything much, but enough so that you were by yourself as you looked up. You found it easier to control your emotions as you blinked back the tears, not wanting to wipe them away in case anybody noticed. In front of you, you could hear Vera and Anna arguing about something minuscule, smiles still on their faces as they playfully banter back and forth.

The wind began to pick up a bit, your eyes watering even more as you blinked back the fat tears that were threatening to fall and roll down your cheek, biting your lip as if that could make it stop.

“Everything alright?”

Your head whipped to the side to where the voice came from, a little surprised to see Gojo walking next to you. His hair was tucked behind his ears, hands in his pockets as he waited for your response.

As you blinked in shock a small tear fell, and you quickly wiped it away with the back of your hand, no use in hiding it now as you nodded, lips quivering a bit as you sniffled. You could count the number of times he had spoken to you on a single hand, so you hid it by looking away. Your cheeks heated up under his heavy stare, not used to it, especially from him.

“Y-yeah, I’m good.” You said as you exhaled shakily, not having the guts to look at him as you just stared directly ahead of you at the three heads of the other members of the group. But you weren't good at masking the lie as you watched from the corner of your eyes as he pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to you.

Looking at his outstretched hand you saw a tissue and your eyes darted to him in questioning.

“It’s not poisoned, y’know.” He told you, his voice slightly less monotone as you let out a watery laugh, tentatively taking it from him as you whispered out a hushed thanks.

You blew your nose as quietly as you could, feeling bad as you threw it to the side of the street you blinked again, hoping this time you could do a better job of controlling your pesky and fragile emotions with somebody next to you.

There was a silent beat as neither of you said anything, wringing your fingers together as you tried to look for an explanation for all this. It was stupid, childish, and downright embarrassing, but you still couldn’t find the words to justify anything.

“Anna can be like that. You learn to live with it.” Gojo finally said, interrupting your train of thought as he spoke. You could tell he was slowing down his pace to match yours, his long legs taking shorter steps and you almost laughed at the sight.

“It’s okay,” You said, rubbing at your eyes again as your nose wrinkled again, “I’m just not used to being…”

“Bombarded?” He said, finding the right word as you nodded with a small chuckle.

“Yeah… that. I know it’s stupid. I don’t even know why I’m…” You trailed off, wiping at your eyes with your palms as you took in a shaky breath, “It’s just been a while since I’ve talked this much, so I’m still trying to get used to it…sorry.” You let out a little hiccup, missing the way his lips almost pulled into a smile at the sound.

“Don’t apologize,” He said, shrugging as he kicked a piece of broken asphalt across the sidewalk, “It’s not your fault.”

You went to open your mouth to say something back but Geto waved his arms, motioning the two of you to the rest of them as he pointed to something on the ground.

“Oi, Gojo, come check this out. I don’t know if this is a cordyceps or a regular mushroom.”

And you glanced at the man next to you one more time but he was already jogging forward to see what the fuss was about. It didn’t matter much, it shouldn’t have, but you couldn’t stop the way your little heart fluttered pathetically at his words. You quickened your pace, shaking your head at the thought as you joined the group once again.

But as much as you tried you couldn’t get his final words out of your head. It’s not your fault. How you wish it were true. If only he knew, he’d probably eat his own words. Swallow them up so that they were never spoken into existence because it was your fault. But you couldn’t say that now.

You hated that time between day and night more than anything.

When the crickets chirped and the sky became darker than it should have, casting a shadow over the ground. The stars were freckles across the sky and the light breeze didn’t distract you from the fact that clickers could be a stone's throw away from you without you ever realizing it.

The abandoned apartment complex they decided to spend the night in was definitely in better condition than the ones surrounding it, but even with the extensive search you guys did up and down to make sure it was clear of any danger, you still felt a little nauseous as they set up base in the lobby.

Your sleeping bags were sprawled out on the marble floor lined with dirt. You had your backpack next to you, your gun within arm's reach. Next to the fire was an array of cans to pick from, but you weren’t hungry, not in the slightest. You could barely stomach anything after Anna’s bombardment of questions that left you a quiet mess, and being surrounded by people in the dark just made it worse.

“Hungry?” Vera held out a can of preserved peaches but you shot your head, biting back the sick that made its way up to your throat at the thought of eating. You could feel her eyes burning on the side of your face but she didn’t press any further, eating as the two of you listened to Geto talk about his plan for reaching the camp in Takayama.

He was the more animated one of the two males. He talked with his hands, his face contorting in different ways as he conversed with Anna. Gojo sat on the side, watching the flames dance across the rocks, his blue eyes lit a color you’ve never seen before as he listened in his own way to the conversation.

“I saw you earlier,” Vera whispered as she leaned in closer to you, throwing the empty can aside as she wiped the corners of her mouth with a napkin, pointing to Geto so your attention could stay on him while you listened to her, mostly not to draw any attention from the others as she tucked her hair behind her ear, “Talking with Satoru.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, looking at Vera but she nudged you to look back at Geto, continuing.

“I know he’s not the easiest person to warm up to,” She said with a shrug, picking at her nails as he glanced at you with a soft smile, “He used to be, before all this. I can’t really blame him for being on guard-” You nodded in understanding and she softly chuckled at your response, “But he cares.”

About what? You wanted to ask but didn’t want to prod too much.

“So you knew him before?” This was an easier one to answer, and she nodded, cracking her thumb as she rested her head on her arm. The light from the little fire Geto made casted red and orange shadows on the highlights of her face, and she seemed younger here (she wasn’t even old). Her wrinkles were gone, eyes were less full of stress.

“Yeah, he lived near us. Us, being me and Geto.” She quickly said to save you the confusion. Huh, you thought to yourself, no wonder they were so close.

“So you all grew up together?”

“Yeah,” Her lips pulled into a soft smile, eyes creasing around the edges as she sat in thought, “From elementary school up until university. Geto and Gojo were even doing pre-med together.”

You almost wanted to laugh at the thought.

“I know, it’s weird. I can’t even begin to think of what they’d be like as doctors. But their parents wanted them to do it, so they just went along with whatever they said.”

“What were you doing?” You asked, not even trying to focus on Geto anymore, finding her stories far more interesting. After some time you quickly learned that Vera had much to say when she wanted to, she was just selective when she did.

“I was planning on becoming a teacher. It pissed my parents off, but I liked it.” Her words were soft, almost as if thinking about it brought back better memories. And you bet it probably did, a future she once wanted now far away from her reach.

“And Anna? Did she grow up with you guys too?”

She shook her head, stifling a yawn as her eyelids drooped a little bit.

“No, we met Anna along the way. She and Emi were close though,” She said, rubbing at her tired face, dragging it down as she tried to fight the sleep threatening its way through her body.

Emi?

You watched as her eyes widened slightly, looking over at you to see if you caught the name and she sighed in obvious disappointment, mad at herself for the slip-up. Mumbling something along the lines of shit to herself as she blinked quickly.

“Don’t - don’t ask,” She shot you a look and you dared to go against it, her face once lined with empathy turned stone cold, threatening even as her voice loomed its way through your bones, “Don’t say anything about that. Okay?”

You nod, muttering out a soft ok, almost too scared to answer her loudly as she nodded, clearly not happy with it but knowing there wasn’t much else she could do.

So you didn’t press it, pretending like you heard nothing as you nodded along to whatever Geto was saying. Though nothing could hide the fiery spark of curiosity that came with the new name, one you had never heard here before.

You wondered why she tried to hide it.

That night you couldn’t sleep.

You’d toss and turn, turning your pillow around to see if it would make a difference, but nothing was able to lull you into a tranquil state of being.

The apartment would creak and groan sometimes, the stories above you stable enough not to collapse, but weak enough to freak you out from shutting your eyes as you stared at them. The crystal chandelier overhead was overrun by dust, and it would sway a little when the wind from outside picked up.

After a couple of minutes, you gave up, huffing in annoyance as you rubbed at your sleepy eyes, wishing they would just work with the rest of your body and sleep, but that was a pathetic attempt and didn’t work.

You got up, careful not to make a sound and disturb anybody sleeping around you, and looked around, looking for somewhere to sit that was safe and peaceful enough to help ease your mind.

Moving as if you were about to step on a bomb, you found the reception desk, the paint peeling, and the wood corroding. It gave you a good view of the main apartment entrance, so you felt more comfortable there having a view of almost anything.

Resting your back on it you let out a heavy sigh, your chest moving as your head fell back, thudding against it softly as you played with your fingers.

“Why’re you up?”

You almost yelped but controlled the urge as you jumped in your spot, eyes darting around till they found a faint mop of white hair to your left. He was prodding at the last embers of the fire with a metal pipe, moving them around as they made soft crinkling sounds with his every move. You wondered to yourself, both in shame and worry, how you had somehow failed to miss that.

“Were you watching me?” You whispered, wincing as you tried to lower the volume, scoffing at that being the first thing that came to mind.

“I am on watch duty.” He said, his voice tinged with a bit of sarcasm as his brow raised a little bit. You could barely make him out with your limited vision, but you could tell from where he was standing that he was only a couple of feet away from you.

“You didn’t answer my first question.” He reminded you after a beat of silence, his voice low as he tried not to wake anybody up.

You yawned, shrugging as you picked up a rock not to your thigh, moving it around in your hand as your fingers ran along its smooth and imperfect crevices, its cool touch calming you down a little bit.

“Can’t sleep.” You responded after a bit of thinking, but it really was the truth. Maybe a simplified version of it, but it caused him to let out a quiet scoff, obviously not satisfied with your lazy response.

“Insomnia or bad dreams?”

You laughed a bit, your lips quirking at the edges as you clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth.

“You would have made a spectacular doctor.”

He took in a sharp breath of air and you laughed, stifling your giggle with your hand. His reaction telling you he obviously didn’t want that knowledge to be spread around.

“Swear to god, that’s all she told me though.” You say, holding up your hands as if a pledge of your honesty though you doubted he could even see it. You heard him snort, obviously not buying it but not saying anything about it as he pushed at the coals around a little more.

A small rush of wind moved the dust and twigs next to you, the whooshing sound somewhat tranquil as it filled the silence. It wasn’t awkward like you thought it’d be, but it wasn’t comfortable either. It was a place right in the middle, but it was better than your past three interactions with him.

You tried to squint, trying to make out his features. He was attractive, that much you could admit. Even if you met him before seeing a man became a rare occurrence you would have had the same thought. His frame was sturdy, lean, and tall. He filled out his clothes rather nicely, and his face was passive and a grimace away from forming a scowl, but you could tell he once used to laugh a lot more if the smile lines told you anything.

You wondered if the name Emi had anything to do with him losing his smile.

“Tell me something about yourself then.”

A shocked laugh threatened to bubble out of your throat at his sudden statement.

“W-Why?” You stuttered out with a laugh, confused as you shifted where you were sitting, tilting your head a little bit to the side, wishing he’d move so you could see clearly just who it was you were talking to.

“You know too much about me,” He said as if it was obvious, shrugging his shoulders as he set the metal pipe down gently to not make any noise, “I don’t know anything about you. Other than you can’t sleep and are learning to talk more.”

A part of you wondered if he was being genuine or trying to be snarky.

But you just snorted, rolling your eyes at the absurdity of this as you threw your hands, looking up as you thought for a second for something interesting yet boring enough to shut him up so you could have some quiet time.

“I can only eat semi-sweet or dark chocolate. Milk’s a little too sweet for me.”

You could hear a snort in response, probably the first you’d ever heard from him as he shuffled around a little bit, his shadow moving a little bit closer to where you were sitting. The ray of moonlight illuminated part of his face, his white lashes fluttering against his cheeks as you watched him rest his chin on the palm of his hand.

“Seems like we’re complete opposites there,” He admitted, his lips threatening to tug into a smile, but he controlled it as if he didn’t want you to see that part of his hidden emotions.

“Then I’ll give you any milk chocolate bars I find.”

He huffed, a part of his lip caught under his teeth as he considered the thought.

“Is that good enough for you?”

He shook his head quickly, comically as you sighed, some sleep finally settling in as you rub at your forehead. You could feel the headache coming from a mile away.

“Need something more personal,” He retaliated, moving a little bit so that he wasn’t putting all his weight on his arms, his toned chest moving as he resituated himself. You tried to not make it obvious that you were staring, “What’s your favorite color?”

“Well now you’ve gone too far,” You say with a little laugh, the most genuine one you’ve had in a while. You miss the way his face almost mirrors yours, the edges of his lips threatening to pull up into a grin as you smile. “I like yellow.” You finally answer, your smile faltering as you think back.

“Any particular reason or do you just like the color of piss?”

“I had this perfume bottle, I got it for my birthday when I was twelve. The actual perfume smelled disgusting but the bottle itself was this glass-stained yellow, a soft yellow that I haven’t seen anywhere else.” You explained, bringing one leg up to your chest, and wrapping your arms around it to steady yourself.

“What about you?” He shook his head, waving his pointed finger around, clearly not answering a question yet.

“No, still on you. Where were you when this all started?” Gojo asked, and the jump from the previous question to this one took you off guard. If you were counting correctly he had two more facts above you than you did for him, but you indulged him, having nothing better to do with your time.

“At home. I was watching TV with my dad when they broadcasted that signal,” You paused, the memories flooding back as you tried to blink them away. The car, your neighbors who were already infected, “You?”

For a second you thought he wasn’t going to answer but he shifted, running a hand through his hair as he whistled quietly, thinking.

“I was in a lecture hall.”

“For your doctor lectures?”

He chuckled, for the first time since you’ve known him, shaking his head as he eventually nodded, knowing that you were probably never going to give up the information. You watched as he rested his chin on his palm, the new angle giving you a better view of him and you felt your cheeks heating up under his gaze.

“Yeah,” He couldn’t fight the smile anymore, his face turning softer as he smirked, “For my doctor lectures.”

“Go sleep,” He said after a heavy beat of silence, his voice softer as he watched you wipe at your eyes, a big yawn escaping your mouth as you blinked tiredly, “It’s almost morning.”

You shake your head, wondering why a part of you was disappointed that he was right. As you stood up, wiping the dust from your pants as you shuffled your way around some bricks, finding your way back to your sleeping bag (with more difficulty than you’d like to admit), and threw it over your body. You could feel his eyes burning on your back, but you shut your eyes and pretended that you were asleep.

A couple of weeks after that night and you wondered if you had somehow passed a test.

While he still didn’t speak much to you, he wasn’t cautious nor weary when he did.

Gojo still didn’t laugh or smile much, but his little grin was less guarded when you spoke to him. Maybe it was to save you the pity of your awful jokes, but a part of you felt happier knowing he warmed up to you a bit.

“You just haven’t heard these puns yet,” You argued one day, pulling out the book you found when you scavenged through an abandoned store about a week ago. It had water damage and some of the words you could barely read, “Okay, okay, what about this one? 3.14% of sailors are Pi-rates. Huh?” You looked up at him, wiggling your eyebrows only to see him with a disgruntled look, staring down at you as he shook his head in disappointment.

“None of these should have been published.” He argued, and although he sounded disgruntled, there was an edge of him holding back a laugh.

“Oh, I like this one!” You exclaimed with a giggle, Vera looking back at the two of you as she smiled to herself, nudging at Geto so he could see too, “What do you use to cut a Roman Emperor's hair?” He didn’t say anything for a second so you lightly kicked his shin, waiting for an answer.

“I don't know, scissors?” You grinned, shocked at how close he was.

“Almost, the answer is Ceasers,” You revealed with a giggle, showing Gojo the book as he sighed, rubbing at his forehead in faux annoyance. You put the book in your back pocket, careful when you fold it, wanting to save the rest for later, “Don’t worry, I’m saving the best for last.” You patted the pocket as he laughed, excusing himself as Geto called for him to check something out on the map. Your foot almost slipped when you walked on some grass, wet from the rain last night, and his hands soft out to grip your elbows, steadying you as you thanked him. Your skin felt like it was on fire from where his lingering touch was, and you looked away, hoping he couldn’t pick up on the embarrassment.

“Y/n, can you come here for a ‘sec?” Anna called your name, ushering you over as you looked around to see her walking a little bit behind you. And you made your way over to her, readjusting your backpack as your shoulder sunk a bit from how heavy it was.

She offered you a small smile, though you could tell she was thinking a lot of things through. You noticed that when that line appeared down the middle of her brow, it meant that she was deep in thought. That, or she was mad. But with the way her fingers danced on her arms in discomfort and her eyes darted around the rest of the group, you wanted to bet that she was going through it.

“What’s up?” You finally asked, just hoping there weren't any more questions about how difficult it was traveling alone.

“I’ve seen that you and Gojo have gotten closer, w-which is great! Don’t get me wrong!” She sputtered, shooting you a quick grin that didn’t quite meet her eyes, “But I feel like I should let you know…”

When she didn’t finish you raised a brow, wondering what could possibly be so bad.

“Do,” She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she shook her body, deciding to just get it over with, “Do you remember that one night? In that apartment lobby?”

You almost laughed. How could you forget?

“Yeah…vaguely,” That was a fat lie. It was all you could think about in these following weeks. Your conversation with both Vera and Gojo plagued different parts of your mind for different reasons.

“Listen, I couldn’t help but overhear ‘Ver, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but…” She trailed off, gnawing on her lip as her eye twitched, “I heard her say Emi and I know she brushed it off but I feel like you deserve to know about it. You’ve been with us long enough so that I can trust you with this.”

Was it really that easy? You didn’t say anything, hoping the slight excitement and anticipation on your face wouldn’t scare her away as you gave her the time she needed until she continued. She took in a deep breath and started.

“I’d known Emi for a long time now - gosh, probably over a decade at this point. She was nice, but she had her own flaws, but she was my only friend so I ignored them. When this,” She motioned her arms around you, “Whole thing happened, she was the only one I had. We were planning on going to a quarantine zone in Tokyo but it fell almost immediately, so we just went wherever we could.

“We met up with those guys a couple of months later. Maybe two, two and a half years ago?” She thought back, shaking her head because it wasn’t important to fixate on, “And they took us in. They were all really nice, including ‘Toru.

“After a while, he and Emi got closer, and for that while, it was just a fling that would pass the time. But they cared for each, it was pretty obvious. Or from what she told me, it sounded like they did. But,” She bit her cheek, playing nervously with her fingers as she looked up at you, “it was hard. They fought. A lot,” She gave a humorless laugh as she looked back on it, “Day in and day out. They fought over the smallest of things. I swear, I don’t know how-” She stopped, apologizing as she got back on track, “Anyways, what I’m trying to get at is that one of these fights got bad. I can’t even remember what it was about. Food? Maybe clothes? Doesn’t matter. It got big and they said some shit neither of them meant, but Emi left. She said she was leaving, but nobody believed her. She always said shit like that. But she did, she left and we didn’t see her for a couple of days.

“‘Toru was really worried, never seen him so scared before. He went out looking for her and came back a week later. He told us she was bitten, late in the stages of infection. He said he had to…” She trailed off, voice catching in her throat and you quickly looked for a tissue, as she gratefully accepted it.

“I see the way you try to make him laugh, I know, but Emi took that part of him. He wasn’t the same after she left, and I don’t think he ever will be. So just - don’t get your hopes up when you’re around him, okay?”

“I, um, okay…?” But you didn’t even know what you were agreeing to. You just knew that Anna nodded, thankful that you heard, and the two of you made your way back to your group. Maybe it was the way your face had lost all the laughter it had just a couple minutes ago, or that Anna somehow managed to see what you were trying to do, but Gojo glanced at you, his brows furrowing together in slight worry.

You don’t know why the information affected you so much. It could have been just from how shocking it was to hear it, or the fact that Anna could tell that you were trying to get him to smile more. It made sense, the more you thought about why he was the way he was, but you still felt a part of you crumbling at the thought. Even if you never met Emi, you couldn’t definitely feel her presence after she was gone.

What? He mouthed, altering his steps so that he could weave around Geto to get closer to you. But you shook your head, reassuring him to stay where he was as you gave him a curt nod and a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

It’d be over soon, you told yourself. After you get to the camp in Takayama, it’d be big enough to go your separate ways. You’ll forget the last five years, forget everything you’ve gone through, and start something new.

If not, you’d rather just get bitten and get this hell over with.

“What’d she tell you?”

Gojo cornered you when they were all asleep, the tall trees surrounding you casting shadows over his face. You didn’t light a fire this time, Geto saying it’d be safer if you just used flashlights instead. You knew the infected had bad eyesight, relying on sound more than anything, but that didn’t mean raiders couldn’t see.

There was no point in lying, he’d sniff it out immediately if you did, so you shrugged, glancing to the side as you blindly moved around leaves, trying to be quiet to get away from the group in case any of them were awake.

“Nothing important,” You muttered, glad it was dark for once so that he couldn’t see your reaction and vice versa.

“Bullshit,” His voice was low, your eyes slightly widening in surprise at his reaction, “Wouldn’t have been nothing if you looked like that afterwards.”

Though you could barely see anything, you could feel his presence. He took up a lot of space, and you could practically feel how his hands were only a little distance away from yours. His fingers were inches away from your wrist, and you knew that because when you moved you could feel the light indent, a slight burn as if he’d set your skin aflame.

“Nothing important to you.” You specify, crossing your arms across your chest as you heard him scoff, his jaw ticking as he prodded at his cheek with his tongue. If only your past self could see you now, arguing with a man who you thought only ever had two emotions he used on and off.

He waited, hands on his hips as he tapped his foot impatiently on the ground, hanging his head down for a second until he looked back up.

“Green.”

You pause, brows creasing as you huff out a laugh.

“What?”

“Green,” He repeated, “That’s my favorite color.” When it dawns on you what he’s doing you have to contain the giggle that slipped past your lips, covering your mouth when your hands as you continue to laugh.

“Why’re you laughing?” He asks, his voice genuinely confused as you laugh more, holding onto a tree trunk to steady yourself, “W-what?” But you hear the soft inflection of a laugh in his voice now, almost as if he is trying to control it as you wave your hands, trying to make it stop but you just hit his hands in the process.

“So you refuse to tell me and you hit me in the process?” Any seriousness has dropped from him completely and you laugh through your hands, trying to apologize but your cheeks hurt. It wasn’t that funny, really you don’t know why you’re reacting this way, but it’s that feeling when you start laughing, and it grows out of control for no reason.

“I-I’m sorry!” You wheeze out, trying to find his hands to apologize but he brings them to your mouth. It was dark so you couldn’t see, but his eyes darted around, suddenly realizing how loud you were being.

“Sssh, be quiet.” He hissed out, and you giggled again, licking the palm of his hand as he gave a muted yelp, bringing it close to his chest as he wiped it on his pants. He looked back up at the outline of your shadow, glaring.

“You’re a fucking child, y’know that?” He groaned, but his words didn’t quite match what his face was because his eyes softened at the sound of your laugh, carefree as you failed at trying to control it.

“Admit it, I’m funnny,” You drawled out, laughing as you hunched over a little bit, waving your finger around somewhere near his face, “You’re laughinggg because I’m funnny.” You stated, tugging on his fingers playfully, and he snorted, gently swatting your hand away as he sighed.

“You’re insufferable is what you are.” Is what Gojo finally landed on.

“Tell me something more personal and I might tell you.” You poked his chest, repeating his own words back to him as you leaned back on the tree. You had no intentions of revealing what Anna told you, but you wanted to see how far he’d go to know.

“You’re impossible,” He muttered, running a hand through his hair, debating whether or not it was even worth it to tell you something when he knew damn well you weren’t going to give any information up.

“I’m scared.” He heaved in a sigh and you cut him off with a chortle.

“Everybody’s scared-”

“Of ending up alone.” He finished, brow raising as your laugh quickly died down, some fort of satisfactory grin that didn’t mirror the gloom in his eyes made its way onto his face as he asked, “What? Cat got your tongue?”

“No,” You quickly say, rubbing at your jaw as you take a set back, easing on the trunk as you duck your head down in embarrassment, crunching some dead leaves under your boot, shame riding up your bones as you lamely shrug, “Just wasn’t expecting that.” You mutter, looking up at him from the corner of your eye.

He chuckles, taking a step closer, his breath hitting your cheek.

“What? Expecting me to say spiders? The dark?” You can feel his slender fingers a hairs distance away from your arms, careful not to touch you, but still close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off of him.

“No,” You shudder, both from the cold and from him, “Thought you were ‘gonna say med school or something.”

He lets out a big groan, hands gingerly gripping your elbows as his head falls on your shoulder, fighting his smile as you laugh again, muffling it with his coat as you gently pat his back.

“Where do fruits go for vacation?” Your hand stalled on his back, feeling his slumped form take in a deep, steadying breath.

“Where?”

“Pear-is.” You heard him mumble something on your shoulder, giggling as he shook his head in mock dismay. But this was different than all the last times, you could tell. His back shook a little, and he refused to look up.

You didn't comment on the tears that began to stain your shirt, or his quivering chest every time he breathed. So you wrapped your arms around his back, squeezing a little bit, feeling his arms snake around your waist as he tugged you just a little bit closer.

Even though it didn’t feel like a lot of time had passed, it had almost been six months since you began traveling with them. The journey would have been far faster if any of the cars worked, but Takayama was only a few weeks away. According to Geto.

Gojo walked up next to you, shoving something in the pocket of your coat. You look at him from the side of your eye, digging it out to see a chocolate bar as he looks away, a little smirk on his face as you lightly elbow his side.

“Can literally hear your stomach begging for something,” He teased, his face stoic but his voice lighthearted as you laugh, grateful even if you didn’t show it as you opened it up, noting that it was dark, telling him thanks with a mouthful of chocolate.

“Want some?” You offered, holding the bar out as he declined, shrugging, “Suit yourself.” You muttered, mouth full of the sweet as you finished the rest of it. He felt his eyes lingering on your lips stained with the chocolate as Gojo dryly swallowed, averting his gaze as he looked somewhere else, his cheeks colored light pink.

“I think we’re the chosen ones,” Geto stated, walking around freely as he pointed to all of you including himself. Your group made it out of the forest a couple of days ago, so he’s been living his life, trying to enjoy the run-down towns as much as he could before you went into the forests again until you reached Takayama.

“God, you’re so fucking stupid Suguru,” Vera said, shoving past him as she rolled her eyes, taking a bite out of her protein bar as she shared a knowing look with you, the two of you laughing as Geto tried to explain himself.

“No, no, hear me out. Aside from me, you and ‘Toru, y/n, and Anna come from different places. But we all somehow found each other, and as a group, are going to the chosen place.” He concluded, wiggling his eyebrows as everybody else just groaned as he went on another one of his tangents.

“No, really, think about it,” He tried to catch up to her pace, walking backward so that he could also look at all of you when he spoke, “We’ve all been picked through natural selection. These past five, six, years and we survived them. We-”

He stopped, and all of you stopped in your tracks when you heard the dreaded sound.

Clicking. Groaning.

“Oh fuck,” Geto stopped, everybody, drawing out their weapons as you tried to figure out where it was coming from. Your heart was rattling inside your ribcage, your hands fumbling as you tried to find your gun. It had been so long since you’d encountered an infected that you were naively beginning to think that they had just disappeared.

“It’s okay,” Gojo muttered, glancing over to you as he held his hand on yours, trying to calm your shaking down a bit, “You’re ��gonna be okay.” He was so sure of it that you almost believed his words.

But long gone was the carefree attitude as the clicking got louder both in volume and in amount.

“Shit,” Gojo looked over to Vera, “How many d’you think there is?” The clicking got louder, your fingers trembling over the trigger as you looked at the abandoned city hall, finally locating where it was coming from. He told you that she was the best shooter they had, and she was far more confident in taking clickers and runners down than anybody else was.

“Too many,” She called back, eyes darting from everywhere, looking for somewhere to escape from, “Fuck, we ‘gotta split.” You guys were in an alleyway, stuck between taking the road and going through a hole in one of the walls. But from where you could tell, taking the road was only going to direct you toward the infected. The wall still gave them an opening to wherever you guys planned to run from, so in some way, you were cornered.

“What?” He called out, taking a step back, his brows furrowed in confusion, “No way, we can’t-”

“Listen to me. Here, take my map,” She threw it over to him and he caught it, mouthing confusion but she shook her head, “Suguru and I can hold them off for right now, but you take Anna and y/n. If we can’t find-”

“We’re not going to fucking leave!” He shouted back, raising his voice to be heard over the number of infected, his cheeks tinged pink as you nodded, not trusting your words as you felt your stomach churn.

“If we can’t find you, meet us in Takayama! Don’t look back, just keep running north!” She motioned down the street, “I can radio with Anna, don’t worry!” She was trying to shove him but he wouldn’t move.

“Vera, I’m not leaving you guys-” But he was cut off by an animalistic roar, everybody’s attention shooting back to the noise, his words dying down in his throat as you saw a glimpse of the infected.

You would never get over the way they looked. You thought you’d be used to it by now, but it never fails to make your hands clammy and you're overall nauseous. They had large fungi popping out of their cranium, their clothes all battered and bloody. They ran so fast that you wondered if they were created just to outrun the human race, but now wasn’t the time for it. All you could hear was their and Vera’s screams.

“Satoru,” She took his arm, holding it in a tight grasp as her eyes darted from him to them, seething from between her teeth, “Take them. Don’t - don’t regret it like you did last time. You couldn’t… but…you can save them. Go. Please.”

He glared at her, eyes hiding a different meaning than what his face showed, nostrils flaring but he stopped. He pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead, muttering out a barely audible I’m sorry, looking at Geto as he gave him a small nod, holding his position down as he waited to buy you guys some time.

He grabbed your wrist, urging Anna to follow him as Vera and Geto began to block you guys.

“W-wait, no, no, let go of me!” You tried to wrangle out of his iron grip but he was insistently dragging you away as you kicked, your eyes welling up, fear overtaking your body as they ran, coming closer and closer to the five of you as Gojo tried to lead you through the hole in the wall.

“Go with him, please, we’ll be okay,” Vera urged as Geto began firing, memories, similar moments cursing through your mind as you got the worst sense of deja vu. You almost felt like collapsing had it not been for Gojo’s steady hand, leading you away.

You cried out for them one last time but he already pulled you through, Anna not too far behind as you held onto him for support, your mouth open as you looked back at him, slowly beginning to realize what happened.

A couple of hours later and you couldn't feel your legs, wordlessly putting Gojo in charge of finding a house to stay at to stay the night.

It was in some run-down town, but many of the homes are still standing. It was probably some of the best pieces of architecture you’ve seen so far, meaning that most of the paint was still on and the furniture wasn’t entirely moth-eaten.

The one Gojo picked was at the end of a cul de sac, seemingly standing unharmed. Vines grew uncontrollably from the sides, and the house was caked with dirt, but you’d take it. He scooped it out, making sure there weren’t any infected hiding in any of the dark rooms, but he gave you two the okay signal and you camped out there for the night.

It was stocked with water and canned food, some chairs knocked down and carpets scrunched up as if the previous owners were trying to leave in a hurry. All the rooms seemed fine, and you just picked a random one as you threw your bag in, not caring as you made your way downstairs to where the rest of them were.

You found them in the living room, the shutters closed, hints of the afternoon sun peeking through. Gojo glanced over at you, his eyes running over your body, quickly scanning to make sure you weren’t hurt.

You made your way to a chair, rubbing your hands over your face as if that could wake you up from this living nightmare.

“They’re okay. They’re gonna be okay.” Anna said, more to convince herself than the rest of you, nodding as she said it again, but with no confidence. It wasn’t night yet, but Vera still hadn’t radioed in, anticipation deep in your throats as your wall stared at the portable radio Anna placed on the coffee table.

Gojo sat there, his legs spread out, an elbow on each knee as he rubbed at his mouth, eyes distant, lost, as he stared at nothing.

You could only imagine how he feels. No matter the sorrow you felt, he felt it tenfold. You’d only known them for a couple of months, a year at most, but he’d known them their entire lives. His shoulders sunk as if the guilt he was feeling was already pushing down on him.

Even though you didn’t know much about Emi, the hurt he carried from her was visible and inevitable. You didn’t know just how much something like this would change him if he’d ever forgive himself if something were to happen to them.

You cleared your throat, not able to bear it anymore as you shifted uncomfortably in your seat.

“Despite whatever happens, I just wanted to say thanks for getting us out. I don’t think I could have walked, let alone fought, so…thanks.” You address Gojo, watching as Anna nodded in agreement, shooting him a smile that quickly died down when she saw his face.

He dropped his hands, his eyes shining with a different sort of gleam as you took a step back, your brows and eyes squinting at the odd look.

“Vera and Geto might be dead. They might be dead because I was too fucking scared to stay and do anything to help. We don’t know where the fuck we are… and you’re thanking me?”

You stuttered, confused as you shared a glance with Anna as she slowly moved from her seat.

“I-I, well, I’m not trying to undermine what they did,” Your head tilted, your voice gentle, knowing that he was surely dealing with every possible ounce of guilt and anger under the moon right now, wishing you just stayed quiet. But you’d already opened your mouth so you had to continue, “I’m just saying thanks because you helped us. That’s all-”

“Help,” He repeated, giving an emotionless laugh as he stood up, shaking his head as his hair followed his every movement, “I ran away. I didn’t help.”

“‘Toru, she’s right, just - just calm down, come on,” Anna interjected, her eyes darting from him to you, offering you an apologetic smile on his behalf.

“She has no idea what she’s talking about. Fuck,” His voice broke, looking away as he tried to wipe his tears, “It’s like….” He didn’t finish but you knew he was going to say It’s like Emi, judging from the way Anna tried to comfort him.

“You’re,” You said slowly, not wanting to anger him any more than he already was, “You’re right. Most of the time I don’t know what I’m talking about, but I understand, and I know it’s not easy and-”

“You know? You know? Fuck y/n, what do you know? What could possibly make you understand?” You’ve never seen him like this, never had the honor of having his words cut you, sawing at your skin until they made you bleed.

You scoffed, not knowing if he was being serious, but he stared at you waiting for an answer.

“Let me see,” You give a meaningless laugh, wiping at your eyes, trying your best to not cry in front of him, not wanting to show him that his words didn’t affect you the way that they truly did, “I thought I was allowed to understand after my dad killed himself. Or maybe it was when my friend tried to kill me because I ate her fucking can of tuna,” You paused, choking on a sob, “O-or when my group left me in the middle of fucking nowhere, saying I was dead weight,” You sniffled, your voice wavering as you shook your head, pointing a finger at Gojo’s chest as you stared at his blank face.

“Just because you’ve been through shit doesn't mean that I haven’t. So - so don’t tell me that I don’t understand, because I do. It’s just, I don’t go treating people I know like shit just because of it.” A tear trickled down your cheek, hanging on your chin before it splattered on the ground.

Your chest heaved, hands trembling as you heard Anna mutter a muffled oh my god. You didn’t want pity, you didn’t want any of their sympathies. But after so many years of carrying it around silently just for him to say that you don’t understand opened up the floodgates.

You went to say something else, opening your mouth before you shut it again, lips wobbling as you shook your head, ducking it as you made your way for the stairs. You tried to zone out Anna’s calls for you to come back as you found the room you assigned yourself and shut the door with a loud slam, rattling the house.

Anna came by, asking if you were hungry, but you just brushed her off, saying that you’d come down to eat later.

It was true, you couldn’t stomach anything right now, but you didn’t want to see anybody after that.

You paced around the room, doing anything to occupy your mind and get rid of the thoughts coursing through your head. You packed your bag, which wasn’t even yours, you wanted to guess that in the rush of leaving you accidentally packed Geto’s because yours sure as hell didn’t have a pack of cigarettes and condoms in it, (you’d put all your money on the fact that him and Vera were hooking up), unpacked, and re-packed it. You folded some clothes lying around, washed your face with the water from the bottles you found, and tried to freshen up. Your eyes were still a little puffy and red, but you knew it would go away quickly.

You looked through the closet and did anything you could think of. You didn’t really have the heart to take anything, knowing that somebody cared for these things at one point, but you snooped around, having nothing better to do.

From what you could deduce, a teenager probably lived in the room. Band posters were plastered on the walls, the bed had some stuffed animals still left on it. You could remember the initial broadcast saying to take only what was necessary, so it made sense why the closet was mainly empty but the other aspect of the room seemed untouched.

You looked at some of the books they had, pulling them out of the shelves as you read the titles. Some you knew, some you didn’t. The window adjacent to the bookshelf showed you an outside view of the neighborhood, the moon shining bright as you relied on that and your flashlight to move around.

As you went to put a book back you heard a knock at your door, startling you as you dropped the book on the ground. You grumbled in annoyance, glancing at it and then back to your book.

“I’m still not hungry,” You called out, bending down to grab it as you sighed, “But thanks,” You put it back where it was, wiping at your face as you navigate around the bed, going to open the door to let her in, “Hey, have you heard anything from…” You trailed off, not expecting to see a taller figure in Anna’s place.

You met his eyes, the same ones that managed to knock the air out of your lungs. His gaze softened upon the sight of your face, but you wouldn’t let that dictate your feelings. No, you refused. So instead, you quickly gathered yourself, squinting your eyes as you went to shut the door, not quick enough as he was able to wedge his foot in between, whimpering a bit as you still tried to slam it shut with it in the way.

“Ow, fuck, wait,” His hand gripped the side of the door, and you rolled your eyes, sniffing once as you let him open it himself, knowing that he’d just find another way inside if you blocked this one, “Listen,” He invited himself in, a hint of pleading in his voice as he looked at you, “Anna got Vera’s message. They're,” He sighed, his shoulders sagging a bit, “They’re fine. Little shakin’ up, but they’re gonna be okay. Said to meet up with them at the camp.”

Your eyes and mouth slightly opened, your anger with him disappearing for a second as you smiled softly to yourself.

“That’s great,” You breathed out, not knowing how to handle this, almost all the stress leaving your bones as you gave yourself a moment to relax, “Great news.” You gave him a curt smile, glancing at the door, wondering if that was all he came here for.

His eyes traveled from your face, stalling on your puffy lids as he slightly grimaced. He looked around the room, noting all the décor, posters, and memorabilia. You could tell he was struggling to find something to say, opening his mouth only to close it just as quickly.

“Thanks for letting me know,” You start, your hands hovering over his chest as you try to push him out, “But I wanna be by myself right now, so…” You nodded to the door, waiting for him to get the hint and go.

“Are you leaving?” He asked suddenly, his brows furrowed, creasing down the middle as glanced at your face at your packed bag behind you. You saw his lips trembling, hands moving up to gently cup your elbows, almost as if he needed to, or else he’d crumble over.

“What?” You look back confused as to what he was talking about, shaking your head, “I was jus-”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m sorry, so so sorry sweetheart, I swear, I d-didn’t know you went t-through all that shit,” His voice cracked, his legs moving faster than his body as you backed up against the bed, alarmed at his sudden change in mood, “Even if I did, I-I should never have said that to you. I’m so fucking sorry, please, I didn’t mean anything I said. I was talkin’ out of my ass and being the biggest fuckin’ dick ever.” Gojo’s voice trembled as if he was on the verge of tears as you almost tripped, glad the bed was behind you as you fell onto it, the springs squeaking at the sudden movement.

You watched as a giant of a man sank to his knees, grabbing your hands and holding them to his chest as his eyes watered, his lip wobbling as he almost pleaded for you to look at him and to hear what he was trying to say.

“Look, I’m really, really sorry,” He crouched down, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand, “Please don't leave. I’ll shut up for the rest of the way there and you’ll never-”

“I’m not leaving,” You say with a small laugh, confusion laced in your voice, “I was bored so I packed. ‘S not even my bag, think I got Geto’s or Vera’s on accident.” You shrugged as you watched his face change. Morphing as he shut his mouth, his hands still trembling as realization washed over him, slowly only leaving embarrassment.

“Really?” He asked, still not letting go of your hands you nodded slowly, heart beating rapidly in your rib cage as you waited for him to say something else.

“Oh...” He the relief on his face is replaced with something different, “Okay,” He took in a deep breath, slowly letting go of your hands as he looked at the floor, some of his hair falling in his face as he finally looked back up, giving you a small apologetic smile, “Sorry, I didn’t…” He couldn’t finish, moving quickly to stand up, mumbling something to himself as he went for the door, stopping seconds before he opened it.

“‘Toru?”

His fingers danced over the doorknob, not turning back despite his every nerve telling him to look back at you. But deep down, he knew that if he did, it would all come crumbling down. That the wall he built so highly for himself would crack, and he’d have to face the realization that he cared for you. Cared so deeply for you that seeing your face, your eyes puffy from crying because of his words would be worse than if a scolding knife was to pierce his heart. Because no matter how hard he tried to convince his feeble mind that you didn’t matter to him, you did, and he could no longer hide behind a mask and pretend that you didn’t.

“Now that I think about it I think you would have made a shit doctor.” You say, crossing your arms across your chest as you watch him turn around, his lips red, looking like he’d been repeatedly chewing on it.

His hand fell from the doorknob, taking three quick steps to get back to where you were, his hands quickly going up to hold your face, eyes scanning yours as if waiting for you to say anything. But you couldn’t, not with the way he was staring at you. He always did a spectacular job of whisking your words away from a single glance.

“You drive me crazy,” He muttered, his nose almost touching yours as your hands traveled slowly up his back, feeling your heart beating in your throat, “Whenever I see your face,” His thumb runs over the corner of your mouth, eyes falling on your lips, “I don’t what to do. And then you open your mouth and I don’t know if I want to laugh, cry o-or kiss you. And,” He sighed, a hand going behind your head so that you could look up at him, “I don’t know what I’d do without you. Without your gorgeous face, your pretty eyes, your laugh, your kind, kind heart. I’ll spend a fucking lifetime making up for all the shit I’ve done if it means you’d forgive me.” He was a breath away from your lips, if either one of you were to make a single movement it’d be over.

“Relax,” You say with a little laugh, your lashes fluttering on your cheek as you take a step back closer to the bed, “I’m not gonna make you grovel or anything. But if you’re offering something as forgiveness…” You trail off, not knowing how to word words as you push his head closer to yours. Your fingers play with his hair, tangling them back and forth to make little curls, your head moving on its own as you try not to give a stupid giddy smile.

He leans in, finally closing that pesky gap between the two of you as you let out a little gasp until you melt against his chest, slowly working your lips against his.

It’s hot, you don’t know how else to describe it. Weeks, months even, of pent-up tension are adding up here at this moment.

He’s so gentle when he cradles your face, afraid you’d crumble away if he held you with any more pressure. But his kiss is anything but, aggressive and fast, not wanting to slow down as he tried to commit the feel of you to memory.

He nips at your lips, now plumper and shiny with spit, pulling away slightly as he cradles his face to yours. His hands tug you into his body, cradling your jaw as he smiles, his eyes lidded as he looks down at you.

Your hands are on his chest, slightly tugging at it as his smile grows, his cheeks all blushed out as you giggle, somewhat intoxicated by the feel of him. You’d imagine what he’d be like, sure, but the way he kissed or looked at you was nothing your imagination could have ever conjured up.

“Swear to god, if I ever say stupid shit you slap me, okay? Knock some sense into me,” He muttered, holding your cheeks, looking at you as if you had strung up the moon and the stars, and you probably did if you told him so.

“‘M not gonna hit you, maybe just tell you some stupid puns till you realize what you’ve done.” You tease, watching as his head disappeared, your laugh turning into a muted moan as he licks a stripe across the expanse of your throat, gently biting down on your pulse point as he soothed it with a sloppy kiss.

“‘Toru,” You can get out, collapsing on the bed as he gingerly pushes you onto it, feeling lightheaded as you watch him kiss down your arms, your hands, any area of naked skin he could find. It was exhilarating the way his lips felt on your skin.

“You ‘wanna take that shirt off f’me?” He muttered, hands traveling up your stomach, nimble fingers dancing under the cup of your bra, “Or d’you want me to stop?” He’s slow and patient as you quickly shake your head, already getting to work at shedding off anything stopping him as he chuckles slowly, the sound just causing you to grow even wetter. You expertly unhook your bra from your chest, watching as it falls down into your lap, suddenly aware that your top half is fully bare to him.

But he doesn’t say anything, his body almost malfunctioning at the sight of your bare tits. You almost go to cover them, conscious of his heavy stare, but he gently grabs your wrists, pushing them aside as he moves closer to you, his breath hitting your collarbone as he stifled a groan.

“Fuck,” He says, not even fully paying attention as he quite literally goggles at your breast, his fingers tugging at your nipples, thumbing at them until they’re slightly swollen, letting his hands run over them as he feels his cock straining in his pants, “S-shit, you’re so fuckin’ perfect.” He whispers, glancing up at you only to see your head thrown back, finger grasping his as you try to make him work faster, pushing them down to the buttons of your jeans as he chuckles, patting your waist once as if to tell you he understands.

He gets to work, quickly getting them off of you, your underwear with it, eyes darkening as he notes your slick between your two puffy lips, gripping onto your thigh with every possible amount of self-restraint he has.

“If you don’t hurry up I’ll just tell you a bad pun n-now to get it over with. Fuck just - just touch me already!” You threaten, glaring at him as he snorts, fingers traveling up to cup your cunt as you suddenly gasp, your teasing tone dropping at the euphoric sensation.

“Where?” His thumb slowly rubs at your clit, using some of your slick as he goes at his own pace, enjoying how you paw at his biceps, gripping onto them with every ounce of strength you could muster, “Here?” He asks, using two fingers to pry your pussy lips apart, nearly coming in his pants as he did so.

“This what you want, sweetheart?” He asks, his pointer finger traveling up your slit, gathering all of your wetness as he groans, slowly pushing it in, testing your limits as you let out a wanton moan at the feeling.

“Yes, yes!” You cry out, your hands gripping the sheets. He doesn’t need to be told twice to know that you’d probably wring him out to dry if he doesn’t pick up his pace.

But he wants to be slow, not wanting to hurt you as he pushes it in, inch by inch, until he curls it, your eyes rolling back, holding onto his wrist for dear life as you wait to adjust to it.

“F-feels so good, hmm!” You squeal, your lips barely opening as he pushes the second one in, your words cut off by another moan, whining for him to go faster. You’ve been deprived for so long that you can’t even feel embarrassed at the needy way you yearn for him and his skilled fingers and touch.

You’ve only ever been with one guy before, and he knew nothing about the female antonymy so you don’t really have much to compare him to, but Gojo knew what he was doing. He listened to your every sound, noting which places made your toes curl and eyes cross, becoming more and more familiar with your body. His white hair fell into his face as he paid attention to you, glancing up at your face every now and then to smile, wanting to make sure that you were okay.

“Yeah? You’re squeezin’ me so much, fuck,” He starts pumping them in and out, the motion enough to make you go crazy, whining out pathetically as he picks up the pace a little bit, his thumb going to find you, “This pussy’s fuckin’ perfect, fuck, and she’s mine, y’hear?” He asks, only pumping into you faster, his thumb on your clit mirroring his ministrations as you cover your mouth with your hand, not wanting to be so loud that your cries could travel through the walls.

“F-fuck, just yours! Promise!” You say, agreeing to anything he said, babbling nonsense as you feel your stomach clench, your back arching as he takes in the beautiful sight of you sprawled out like this, wanting to take a mental image to commit it to heart.

“Hmm, ‘Toru, I’m gonna, fuck, gonna…!” You can’t even finish your sentence, mewling at the way his relentless motions never stopped.

It’s only a couple of seconds before you cry out, his other hand clamping to your mouth to muffle your moans, seeing white as you fall back onto the mattress, your chest heaving with every breath you take as your orgasm runs through your body. It was the most intense thing you’ve ever felt, your walls clamping down on his fingers as you creamed around them, your legs shaking as you moaned out his name.

He stops, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face as he watches you struggle to catch your breath.

“So fuckin’ stunning,” He says under his breath, bringing his fingers shining with your essence up to his lips as he sucks them clean, his eyes fluttering shut at your tangy taste, “Taste amazing too, sweetheart.” He takes his fingers out of his mouth, crawling up to your body, tapping on your lips so that they’d open. He pressed his fingers on your tongue, watching as you sucked on them, your eyes never leaving his. He moans, taking them out before he almost embarrasses himself by coming on the spot.

But he stops when he feels his pants tighten around his crouch, wincing because he clearly didn’t think this through enough. His dicks feels like a heavyweight in his pants, and he can feel the strain.

“What?” You sit up, worry lacing your features as you balance on your elbows, “What’s wrong?” You're now freaking out inside, thinking that he’s starting to regret this, or that he was drunk off the euphoria and now the realization is settling in.

“I don’t have a condom, and the only ones were in-”

“Geto’s bag?” You say with a chortle, pointing your chin at where the said bag was sitting, “Yeah, I know.”

Gojo chuckles, patting your cheek as he presses a kiss to your lips, almost not wanting to break away as he tastes everything on them. The chapstick you put on that morning, the chocolate he gave you. Fuck, he can even taste your cum on them, and you have to give his chest a little nudge so that he doesn’t forget what he was going to do.

He’s agile as he goes through the pockets, almost doing good at shedding off his clothes, grinning in triumph when he finally locates the pack. It gives you some time to really take in his features, gnawing on the inside of your cheek as your eyes rake over his torso, his defined chest that shines with sweat. You try your hardest not to linger longer on his dick, your mouth going dry at the sheer length of it. Despite him prepping you just a few minutes ago you still wondered how you’d be able to take him.

“If you stare any harder you’re gonna make me blush.” He says, smirking as you discover you’ve been caught in the act. But the way he laughs boyishly at you quickly looking away makes up for it.

“If you weren’t so pretty I wouldn’t be staring.” You counter, tracking him as he makes his way back to the bed, ripping the condom wrapper with his teeth as you swallow, moving so that your head rests on the board behind you as he grinned.

“Me?” He cocks a brow, taking a couple of seconds to put the condom on his dick, his mushroom tip leaking with pre as she sucks in a breath at the feeling, hoping he wouldn’t nut too fast and embarrass himself when he was finally in you, “I’m gonna need you to take a hard, long look in the mirror then sweetheart.”

You giggle, your eyes wrinkling around the edges as your cheeks glow. He moves above you, his own face plastered with a goofy smile at the sound of your laughter. He’d bottle it up if he could, save it for the days when he really needed to hear it.

“No! I really mean it, you’re like, so fuckin’ hot, liked unbelievably hot.” You smile as he pecks your lips, grinning against his as he shakes his head in adorable defiance.

“And I really mean it too,” He counters, his nose pressed against yours as you can’t help but bring him in for another kiss, your tongues meeting each other as he laps up your taste, kissing you so harshly that it knocked the wind right out of your lungs.

When he pulls away a line of spit is connecting your lips to each other. Yours are swollen, almost bruised, but you welcome the slight sting, knowing what it was all for. After all, his are swollen and pink, so you slowly became drunk at the sight of it.

His eyes travel to your tits and down to your stomach, gripping your waist as he kisses your collarbone, his hand gingerly rubbing up and down your skin, causing goosebumps to lie in their wake.

He lined himself up with your entrance, your breath hitching in your throat as you felt his tip prod at your walls, and he groaned at the feeling, only imagining what it’d be like when he finally pushes through.

“J-just fuck me already,” You whisper, your words circling through the two of you, “Please.” You add, and he shakes his head, knowing you’d never have to ask him when your honeyed words drove him to a near point of insanity.

“Don’t have to beg sweetheart,” He says, pushing himself fully in, the two of you moaning out loud at the feeling.

You clamp down tightly on his dick, and despite him going in as slowly as you could he could feel you clenching around him. Your walls stretched to accommodate his size, and the slight pinch mixed with the godly feeling of having him fill you up almost caused you to pass out.

“Shit,” He can barely get it to pass his lips, finally bottoming out in your as your legs circle around his back, pulling him closer to your sweaty body as he places a hand near your head for leverage, “You’re so fuckin’ tight, squeezing me like that.”

“Mmm, s’cause you’re so b-big,” You whine out, your nails raking down his back, leaving angry red lines. He stills, clenching his teeth as he tries to calm down, slowly pulling out before he slammed back into you.

“Fuck!” You moan, holding onto his waist as he pistons into you, his dick shining with a mix of your own cum and wetness, glimmering in the limited light the moon offered.

His hips slanted against yours, balls hitting your ass as he moved fast, like something in him just snapped, and he couldn’t hold back anymore. His dick could reach that part in you that just made you see stars, hitting it repeatedly until you swore your back could take it.

“Oh, god, you feel so fuckin’ good, fuckkk,” He drawls out, his head falling into the crook of your neck, panting as his hands curled in the sheets, “You’re gonna be the fuckin death of me sweetheart,” He moaned against you, pressing sloppy kisses wherever he could. He trailed down your collarbone, all the way until he suckled on your breasts, pulling away so that he could give each equal attention. They glimmered with his spit, your areolas swollen from his constant motions.

“Umph, ‘Toru, s’too much, o-oh!” You cried, the new angle he was at reaching even further and you questioned just how empty it was before him. He dragged through your walls, his thumb down at your clit, rubbing little circles as your eyes shut, too heavy with lust and you couldn’t even look down anymore, gripping onto his arms to stay afloat.

“Just like that, perfect,” He talked you through it, one hand on your tit, the other busy with your clit, looking down to see his dick disappearing inside of you, going feral when he watched you becoming undone because of him, “Fuck, you’re such a good girl for m-me, y’know that right?” And you dumbly nodded, not able to speak, unintelligible words tumbling out of your mouth instead.

You didn’t expect your release to build up so quickly just after you had your last one, but Gojo was too good, an expert in knowing what places would scratch you in just the right way. You felt the coil in your stomach tighten, your legs wrapping around him as you pulled him in even closer, tilting your head up so you could bring him in for another wet kiss.

“M’gonna, fuck ‘Toru, m’gonna…” But you couldn’t finish, moaning against his lips as you came on his dick, his thumb not slowing down on your little nub as your legs shake from the feeling, eyes crossing as he smiles at the way you clamp down on him.

“There you go, fuck, you’re so tight, fuck, I don’t think I’m gonna,” He tries to slow down but he can't, “Shit, shit, shit,” He stops, shooting his load into the condom as his hips stop, his chest heaving manically as he almost collapses onto your chest, your tits pressing against him as he takes a second to catch his breath.

The two of you can’t say anything, your hands wrapped tightly around his neck as you try to loosen up your body, your hair damp, the room stinking of sex and sweat as you try to come back to your senses.

It doesn’t even feel real, but you watch through hooded eyes as he rises, pulling out of you as his dick hangs limp. He tugs the condom off, hissing at the feeling as he ties it, chucking it at a trash can he found near the desk as he looks back at you, giving you that same debonair smile that still managed to make your heart race despite everything.

You throw a hand over your face, trying to hide it as he chuckles, giving your hips a firm squeeze as he kisses the side of your ear.

“I’ll be back, gonna get you some water ‘n clothes.” He says, tugging on his pants as he throws on his shirt laying across the floor, not bothering with any boxers as he winks at you, chuckling at the way you groan in embarrassment, tugging the covers over your naked body as if he hadn’t just seen you in your birthday suit.

“And bring me some chocolate!” You call out, peeking your head out as he nods, shutting the door behind him as you look around, still trying to fathom what just happened.

He reappears minutes later, one of his tees in hand, and a bottle with a bar in the other. He makes do with cleaning you up with a towel he found, wetting it with some water as he gently rubs it over your sensitive skin, apologizing when you wince, kissing the spots that are still tender.

You're almost tapped out, too tired to see the lovesick look in his eyes when he pulls the shirt over your chest, laying you back down on the pillows as he rubs at your forehead, thanking his lucky stars for being able to see you look like this; so carefree and happy.

There’s a lazy smile on your lips as you tug on his hand, not doing much work as you pull him closer to you. Although the bed wasn’t made to accommodate more than one person, he’d be damned if he let this opportunity slip through his fingers.

“Did you watch Star Wars?” You ask sleepily, holding his hands as you play with his fingers, hearing him snort at the fact that you were still keeping this up. But you still wanted to make him pay, even if he just gave you two of the most earth-shattering orgasms you’ve ever received.

“Used to, why?” He turns you over so you could face him, bringing up one of his fingers so that he could carefully trace out your features.

“‘Cause Yoda only one f’me.” You barely get out, giving a little giggle as he pretends to hate it, still kissing your cheek as you slink against his chest, the rhythmic beat of his heart lulling you to sleep.

He follows you shortly after, his soft snores filling the room as you two sleep soundly. But in the dark, before he lets the sleep take a hold of him, he promises himself that he’d never let you go. He’d take you to Takayama, or wherever the fuck was necessary to keep you safe. He wouldn’t let you cry again, wouldn’t want to see the tears that stained your cheeks because he swore he’d never been in such pain seeing you like that. You were his other half, and no amount of cheesy puns, terrible jokes, or loving questions was going to change that fact. Because he knew that once he held the world in his arms he wouldn’t trade any fucking thing to let it go.

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darkdevasofdestruction · 2 years ago

Text

Being in a relationship with Kure Raian...

You’d think that Raian, although he’s the black sheep of the clan, would be as obsessed over strong people and fighting as everyone else is - Just like Karla is obsessed over Ohma not because she likes him, but because he’s strong and could produce strong offsprings and whatever - But Raian isn’t that way.

In fact, even if people like that catch his eye, he would fight the urge to march up to them and strike up a conversation - Rather, if he does find strong people, he might just beat them up.

But there is something that would make Raian all hot and bothered - And that is getting ignored.

Yeah, that’s right.

Raian would literally spontaneously combust if he wants someone’s attention, and he’s getting blatantly ignored or brushed off.

That’s exactly what happened when his younger sister, Fusui, brought over one of her friends. At first, he didn’t care. You were just some pretty face, like many, many others he’s seen... But somehow, your aloof personality and the resting bitch face you were sporting, a complete opposite aura from Fusui, who held the most cheerful grin on her face - Okay, he was intrigued. Not only that, but from what his sister said, you were just a normal person - A cute, little rabbit in a den of lions - Yet you seemed completely at ease and unafraid.

In an instant, Raian found himself towering his large shadow over the spot on the grass where the two girls were having a picnic. He had that psycho grin of his ever present. Fusui greeted him cheerfully, though she sweatdropped, realising that he might be so bored that he wants to scare her friend away.

Y/N simply gave him a lazy wave of her hand - Her attention was still on Fusui, and she didn’t once break the flow of their conversation. He frowned. Not even a hello? How rude!

Raian’s voice became louder, but also grittier, like the sound of nails scratching a blackboard. He was throwing the most random profanities, and telling Y/N about his latest assassination mission he had, hoping to creep her out with the gore details - Much to his surprise, the small girl casually got to her feet and looked, incredibly bored, into his eyes.

“Hey, Ryan, where did you get this shirt?�� Raian blinked, his smile dropping immediately, feeling the girl gingerly pick the hem of his shirt and feeling it. “It feels like cashmere. Is it cashmere? It’s really good quality.” “My name is Raian, you bitch! Get it through that thick skull of yours!” Fusui immediately reprimanded him for insulting her friend - But the insult fell on deaf ears. “Tell me where’d you get it from, Kevin. I kinda want to get one myself.” her hands slowly traced up to his abdomen, but Raian was so flustered up and irritated by getting called such weird names, that he didn’t notice. “I SAID MY NAME IS RAIAN, ARE YOU DEAF?!” he was shouting so loudly, that Y/N could have sworn her eardrums ruptured. “It would be better if the store had an online site - I don’t really have much time to go shopping myself. Actually - Do you think I could have it delivered for Kure Miguel?” Fusui was sure her friend had a death wish, but at the same time, it was kinda hilarious seeing her brother so worked up over his name. “WHO THE FUCK IS MIGUEL?!” his screech was so powerful that he’d put a Banshee to shame. “Dunno.” Y/N shrugged and pushed Raian into the small water pond right behind him. The water barely reached his waist as he was sitting in it, a lilypad on his head. “I’ll kill you.” his voice was so ominous, low, dark, menacing - And solemn, above all else - That Fusui’s heart froze in fear for her friend’s life. “WAIT, NO, RAIAN DON’T ---” but Y/N was laughing so cutely, that Raian stopped abruptly, glaring down at her. Instead of killing her, he threw his arms around her, hearing her groan. “I~ Got~ You~ So~ Weeeeeeeet~ ♪ Babeeeeeeeeeee~♪“ Fusui has never seen her brother like this - She could just stare in complete disbelief. “Technically speaking, I made you wet, Fritz.” the girl put her palm over his face, pushing him away from her. “Now you’ve done it.” Raian grinned widely. Y/N realised his master plan, and she sighed in defeat. “You’re gonna throw me in the water, aren’t you?” he let out a ‘yup’ sound, before he threw her in the pond. If the water was any higher, he’d have jumped with her - But with how little it is, she probably would have barely gotten wet at all. He was laughing so hard, his sides were aching, but he couldn’t stop. She looked like a wet, grumpy dog - Until she, too, started laughing. “Alright, alright, you got me. Good one. Now help me up, psycho.” Raian missed the mischievous smile on her face, and as he crouched down, extending his hand for her to take - Only for her to tug on his hand and have him fall in the water again. “You’re the psycho, not me!” the two looked at each other and started sniggering like two idiots. Fusui just stared at them, perplex, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from them. Did Y/N just manage to tame the Black Sheep of the Kure Clan? Something that not even their Patriarch could do? “You owe me your shirt.” she said blankly, stopping her laughter abruptly. “Any time~♪“ Raian nonchalantly took his shirt off and let it fall on her head. “...Okay, I might have just sabotaged myself.” she sighed, getting up and out of the pond. “I was supposed to have a sleep over. I don’t have any dry clothes anymore.” she stole a glance at the man. “I suppose I can’t stay over anymore. What a pity. Time to get home, I guess.” she shrugged nonchalantly, waving at Fusui and walking towards the exit of the large garden, only to feel herself being picked up bridal style.

Raian had taken her to his room and threw at her all cashmere clothes he had, while Y/N could barely hide her amusement. Clearly, she could wear some of Fusui’s clothes, after all, they’re around the same frame and they are friends - Or she could borrow the clothes of literally any woman of the Kure - Silly boy, so easily tricked. Or maybe he wanted to be tricked? Either way, Y/N found this, by far, the most hilarious situation she ever faced.

By this time, Raian kept bugging on Y/N and Fusui for the whole day, and during the evening, at dinner, Erioh and Karla and her brother had them all eat together. Y/N looked at her friend, her eyes pleading, embarrassed at the get up she was wearing. Suddenly, the whole joke was ruined and she was the one being tricked. How can she possibly go eat dinner with their 1000 year old patriarch and the rest of the family, when she’s barely wearing Raian’s shirt, and albeit long enough to reach the middle of her thigh, it was still improper. Raian didn’t give her any time to beg Fusui for a proper change of clothes, for he grabbed her wrist and dragged her and his sister all the way to the table. He was also still shirtless, so it only made things worse.

Y/N kept her head down the whole time, hoping that her face wouldn’t betray her embarrassment. Karla, Sarla and Fusui were talking casually about their assassin work, Y/N threw some comments here and there, the old man was quiet, and Raian was... Being Raian, and wolfing down a shit ton of food. Until Karla suddenly noticed there was no more water, and the fight for who would be the loser to bring another water carafe started. It genuinely felt like all the Kure children were going to put down the chopsticks and start a brawl to the death - But Y/N broke the tension. “Ah... There’s no more water. This food is so good, but it got me so thirsty... Can you please tell me where the kitchen is, to get more water?” before the old man could blink, Raian had already returned, and was pouring water in Y/N’s cup. “Oh! Thank you, Jericho!” ... Jericho? Erio had no idea what was going on, but he was genuinely impressed by how this outsider managed to quite literally manipulate the most rebelious clan member to do whatever she wanted... And prevented a war. And he was also shocked when he saw Raian placing his small rice bowl over her face, and laughing like an idiot, to the point he was rolling on the ground like a manic.

Y/N slowly removed the bowl from her face and used a napkin to clean all the rice, and she sighed. “Alright, I suppose I deserve it.” her nonchalance was genuinely so weird for all these proactive people. “Your stomach is going to hurt if you continue rolling like that.” she warned. “Also, it’s not nice, playing with your food. What are you, a kitten, Abraham?” Raian straightened up immediately and glared at the girl, watching her continuing to eat without sparing him a single glance. “WHO THE FUCK IS ABRAHAM?! AND I’M NOT A FUCKING CAT, YOU STUPID BITCH!” he shrieked loudly into her ear, but she didn’t flinch. Instead, the hand in which she was holding her own rice bowl slowly made its way to his face. Raian’s whole face had rice all over it, and Y/N wasn’t removing the bowl. “Take this off me, bitch, or I snap your neck!” that is what he said - Or, at least, what he tried to say, for the rice kept muffling him. “It’s not nice to speak like that, especially in front of your family... Or... To me. You really made me sad...” her voice was pouty and upset - Erio couldn’t believe the power she had over him, and as far as he was concern, this was the first time they met. By the looks of it, everyone was still in shock. “Y/N....” she slowly took away the bowl from his face, and with perfect precision, used her chopsticks to take a single rice grain from his face, and taunted him by eating it.

The whole room was quiet. They were preparing for the girl’s funeral. That is, until they saw her turn her head to the side, biting her lip and her shoulders were shaking. Raian’s face also suddenly split in a wicked grin. Suddenly, a few rice grains started falling off his face, and Y/N couldn’t keep herself in check anymore, and she started laughing, and so did the psycho. Y/N took another rice with her chopsticks, and they ended up laughing even harder. “Weirdos.” Fusui smiled wryly, completely surprised that her friend was getting along with her brother better than with her. “Y/N’s going to be our new sister, Fusui! I want to take care of your babies with Raian! I bet they’re going to be so strong!” the laughter stopped, and the atmosphere changed immediately. Y/N looked down, her face red with embarrassment, whilst Raian immediately wiped his face and glared at Karla, shouting at her for being an idiot. After this, no other fun moments happened, and Y/N returned to Fusui’s room.

Surprisingly, Raian doesn’t always act like he’s fucked in the head, nor is his voice harsh and loud. Late into the night, he sneaked into the girls’ room and woke Y/N up, and with a playful smirk, he urges her to follow him outside, and he takes her back to the pond. The two didn’t speak much, and just gazed up at the stars for a while. It was a serene and comfortable silence, though there was a certain tension between them, and neither spoke. It was weird.

Raian would take off his warm jacket and put it over her shoulders, as she was still wearing just his cashmere shirt - He knew it would be chilly outside. He knew he wanted to see her, but he had no idea what to say. Karla’s comment really threw him off his grove, and it seemed to have done the same for Y/N, who was able to purposely get a raise out of him so many times in a single day, to the point that he was so hot and bothered that he’d have claimed her on the spot. A hundred times, and more. But that vanished completely, and now he annoyingly felt like some kind of awkward teenage boy, and he hated it.

“Hey, Bruce Lee.” Y/N’s voice wasn’t challenging nor provoking, and though it irked Raian to be called by a wrong name again, the softness of her voice only made him grumble. “Do you know how to put 100 babies in a single bucket?” “Huh? What the hell are ya on?” he snapped his head at her, looking with a weird expression on his face. Y/N turned to face him, and her smile grew, as if she was trying not to laugh at herself for the stupid joke she was about to reveal. “In a blender.”

Raian stared stupid at her, eyes wide, unblinking - He almost looked as though he was analysing the very milimeters of her ever growing grin. Raian’s humour was shit. Dark jokes that involve carnage, or simply shock value... Maybe even a shit joke, but with a good momentum delivery... And Y/N’s joke seemed to check all the boxes.

His laugh resounded so loud through the Kure village that the two actually heard “SHUT UP” scolds right back. Y/N was trying hard to stifle her chuckles, but to no avail. “You’re actually kinda cute when you laugh.” “What’s big and smells like shit? GENOCIDE!” he was choking from laughing so much, while Y/N’s mouth twitched. Shit joke, shit delivery. “Your joke was about as bad as your sense of humour, Jose. But it’s fine. I’ll be the funny one of us.” she looked away, shrugging nonchalantly. “If ya call me by another name ONE! MORE! TIME!!! I swear, I’ll fuckin’ kill ya, babe!” he sneered at her with a glare. “Do it, Dennis.” Y/N found herself being roughly pushed to the ground, though her head didn’t collide, as it was carefully pillowed by his palm. She did not see the starry night, but his face - Handsome, and so impossibly close to her own. He sniggered like a mischievous demon. “You’re trapped, babe~♪ What’cha gonna do now~♪?”

Y/N blinked, realising the situation she was in. Not only was she trapped in those big and warm arms of his, but his body was also almost flush against her own. They were so close, that she feared Raian felt how fast her heart was beating against her chest... And against his own also.

But Y/N’s response was unexpected - Gingerly wrapping her fingers into his cashmere shirt... Did he choose it intentionally? - She pulled herself up to plant tender kiss on his lips. For a maniac, he had very plump and kissable lips. Eventually, she pulled away and laid back on the ground, shyly looking at the completely unresponsive boy.

Kure Raian, the Demon, the Black Sheep of the Kure clan - Was blushing like a highschool boy with a crush. How is he supposed to react? What is he supposed to do? Just -- What just happened? He is so lost that he’s making Y/N uncomfortable with how he’s staring at her so intently.

“U-Uh... Wh-What do you call a baby with no arms and no legs in the middle of the ocean?” hearing her voice, albeit, shaky and unsure, unlike before, brought him back to reality. “What?” he breathed out. “...Fucked.” Y/N’s smile was so nervous and awkward. “Marry me.”

Since that night, Raian began his “Marry me” gimmick - And though it was obviously a gag, he half-meant it every time he said it.

Nobody ever believed that Raian would ever have a proper relationship, considering that everyone ostracizes him for being a merciless idiot, but the way he’s unintentionally simping SO hard for you is almost hilarious. How you learnt to tame the beast that he is, it’s a complete miracle. The Clan literally watches you, leaning at the base of a tree, reading leisurely, and you bait Raian into doing whatever you want, like - Make you a lemonade, or have him go get an ice-cream. All the weirdest things.

But if that wasn’t shocking enough, the fact that that boy can actually stay STILL for more than 5 seconds at a time, was absolutely fascinating. The patriarch would sit on the porch of the house and watch Raian sitting with his head on your lap as you absently play with his hair - And he actually stays there, and doesn’t laugh, or speak a thousand words per second, or throws profanities - He’s just laying there, a passive smile on his face, and living in the moment.

What a fascinating creature.

Raian always tells you all the most gruesome details of every mission he goes on, hoping he would creep you out - But you just nod at him dismissively and tell him to go on with his story.

Raian loves to show off when he’s training, knowing perfectly well that he’s attractive, wearing only his fighting shorts, with sweat dripping all over his flexed muscles... And then chases you around the garden to give you a hug, knowing you don’t want his disgusting sweat all over your clothes.

Fusui becomes your literal best friend, though you’re wary of Karla and her obsessive comments - She’s a good girl otherwise. Generally, you get along well with the clan, but both you and Raian agree that you need a break from them, so you crash at your own, away from all the madness the chaotic assassins dwell in.

When you’re hanging at your home, you feel more comfortable to act a bit more intimate. Don’t be fooled by his brashness, if you get together before he’s like - 20 years old, he’d probably brush off the idea of going any further - Unless you initiate it, then he’s game.

He just likes to be the best at everything he does, and while he was born into a family of fighting and killing, being intimate is something completely different, and it annoys him that he’s not a God from the very beginning - Although, he makes up with his eagerness and his absolute love of touching each and every part of your body and teasing you with a ton of kisses. He’s actually a natural, and the cute faces and sounds you make are his fuel, especially when he surprises you.

When you get intimate, he’s not afraid to experiment things and easily picks up on the things that you like and you don’t.

He also loves kissing you until you can’t breathe anymore.

Kisses with Raian are careful and soft at first, but quickly get deeper and more passionate, and he starts kissing and nipping at your bottom lip, licking and sucking on it before pulling you even closer to his body.

The problem is, he loves hugging you from behind and nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck that he forgets he’s not always at home, in private, with you only, and he starts nipping at the soft skin on your neck.

The inside joke of calling him different names continues well into the years, and it confuses most people - The problem is, you often forget what names you used, and he teases you by pointing out you called him the same name twice in a week.

He wants to see you wearing his shirt at home and preferably nothing else underneath, while he stays topless and purposely flexes, to the point that he’s ridiculous.

Raian is incredibly playful, even if it goes borderline genocidal, it’s just how he is - And you always make fun of him for trying too hard.

Years after you met, he gets in the Kengan Annihilation Tournament, and of course, he refuses to go unless you’re with him - And honestly, how can anyone complain, considering you’re the only thing keeping him somehow stable? Though, you sometimes have the bad habit of letting him play around a bit too much.

You also kinda laugh when he’s threatening and playing around with Lihito in the bathroom, though you also scold him for dragging you in the men’s bathroom and unintentionally being forced to see that idiot’s... Privates.

You’re also a bit irked by his unnecessary sadist show against Mokichi, especially as he’s called out your name, and you wanted nothing to do with him killing the only guardian of a little girl.

When you scolded and refused to speak to him until he apologised, he got angry as all fuck and went on a rampage, and despite the Kure literally pleading to you to make him stop - You didn’t.

Surprisingly, though, he was humbled in the second round by Tokita Ohma - And you mentally thanked the brunet for being strong enough and putting a dent into Raian’s ever-going berserk attitude.

Though Ohma was in a coma, Raian woke up soon after, and he found in the infirmary, alone with Mokichi and Ohma.

The room was quiet, save for the beeping of the oxygen machines, and you refused to even look at him, which angered him.

But then you explained why you were pissed with him, and also, why he lost so pathetically - And though he wanted to snap your neck for scolding him, he also knows she was right, not that he’d admit.

During the coup d’etat, he threw all of his frustrations into mass-killing, but once again, his bloodlust made him lose focus, and he got injured again.

Though you didn’t say anything, you did patch him up - He was so silent, that it made you realise he was actually reflecting on his downfall.

And you kissed him.

Over the course of almost three years after the Kengan Tournament, when Ohma comes over to the village to life and train with them, you can see Raian focusing more, and though the brutality is still there, he can actually control it.

Ohma became a trusted confidant and good friend of yours, and the two of you could comfort each other with the two Kure obsessing over you.

Raian’s gimmick with the marriage thing was amped up, though it was more or less to make fun of Karla... Not that she’d realise.

Over the years, Raian made sure to actually teach you how to fight to defend yourself, despite priding himself with being being so powerful that she’d never get herself in danger.

When you reveal Ohma to the world and go visit Koga and Ryuki at the hospital, you see Raian had climbed up the 5th floor and was mocking the young boys.

So you went up to him and pushed him off.

Everyone except for Ohma gawked, afraid for his life.

You just show him the selfie Raian sent you, while he was falling - He was pulling an overly exaggerated kissy face.

Dork.

He was a bit annoyed with how empathetic you were, comforting or cheering every fighter (except for Akoya) for their matches, so he keeps you caged in his arms, teasing you with small comments and kisses to your neck and cheeks.

To stop himself from going ape-shit from the wait leading to his own match, he snatched your hands and would absently play with them or kiss them.

Though the whole Worm thing was worrying you - You didn’t want anything bad happening to the family, or these Kengan people. They all looked like good people.

But then Raian’s match came by and he was fighting Alan Wu, a clear enemy.

You pulled Raian into a kiss, more or less to have the time to warn him not to lose his cool and actually focus on the match, not on his bubbling emotions.

He just grins and brush off your worries, saying he’s a changed man and what not.

But then he gets threatened with a knife, sees Edward Wu in the hallway...

And he rips Alan in two in a split second, running after his arch enemy.

You stare at the mess left behind that was once a person, and you curse out loud - Raian’s lost it and he’s gonna get in trouble.

You don’t care that Alan was killed, but you fear Raian and his impulsiveness might get him in such a tight situation that he might get himself killed.

Even though Erio and the other two are there.

You and Ohma look at each other, and together, you pick Karla and rush to look for Raian, ready to potentially help him in a fight.

Only to see Kure Erio on the ground and dying.

Raian was sitting on the ground, livid with anger, feeling defeated.

They should have won with no casualties! So why the heck did the old fart use himself bait?! And why wasn’t he strong enough to kill those fuckers without the need of aid?!

He was filled with so many feelings of self-hatred and anger, that even your arms around him, or your comforting words couldn’t drown them out.

You held his hand throughout the funeral and comforted him for days on end, but Raian was still bitter.

Since then, you took a more active role in searching for the Worms - You might not have been a fighter, but you were smart enough to come up with plans and do the brain work for them.

Since the patriarch’s death, Raian visibly mellows down, at least around you, and he finally realises how fragile life can be - And if even that old man, who was the strongest man he knows, who was the first Fang of Metsudo and whatever... If even he could die... What about someone like you, who’s such a fragile little bunny? What if he’s not there to protect you? Not that his presence mattered when Erio died. And, worse - What if you’re used as bait to get to him? What if you get killed in front of him?

Being an assassin means that he’s seen and done a lot of cruel things himself, so he puts all the worst in front.

The night of the patriarch’s funeral, you hold his body close to your own, his head on your chest, and you play with his hair, allowing him to vent his anger with any profanity he might feel the need to spew.

But his silence is far worse than all his anger.

During that very night, Raian came to the realisation of a lifetime.

He pulls you into a tight embrace, and hides his face in the crook of your neck, so you wouldn’t see the single tear of sheer self-anger and regret.

And in the most broken, vulnerable voice, you hear him voice the words that he’s been meaning to tell you for so long, but stopped himself, thinking he’d sound weak or something that didn’t matter anymore.

“I love you.”

---------------

Being in a relationship with Wakatsuki Takeshi... Being in a relationship with Yoroizuka Saw Paing... Being in a relationship with Kure Raian... Being in a relationship with Tokuno’o Tokumichi... Being in a relationship with Kano Agito... Being in a relationship with Gaolang Wongsawat... Being in a relationship with Gaoh Ryuki... Being in a relationship with Narushima Koga... Being in a relationship with Hatsumi Sen

#kengan ashura imagine #kengan ashura x reader #kengan ashura #kengan omega #kengan omega x reader #kengan omega imagine #kure raian x reader #kure raian imagine #kure raian #kure karla #kure fusui #kure erio #tokita ohma #kure sarla

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ddarker-dreams · 3 years ago

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Genshin Boys / Letters.

Warnings: None really, just that Reader is implied to be AFAB but no pronouns are used.

Your parents have been corresponding with your partners through letters to get to know them better, but this latest one has a question neither of you were quite prepared for...

“When can we expect grandchildren?”

Childe

You’ve never seen this man grab an ink and quill so fast. He’s already drafting up a list of potential baby names (some of which are things like Ajax Jr, which you vehemently veto, one is more than enough), asking what color you want the nursery to be, stuff in that vein. You end up having to chaperone him while he writes his reply, because he genuinely thought including ‘I’ll get right on it’, was a good idea. This is a topic that Childe has never shied away from — he loves the idea of one day starting a family with you. His lifestyle might not be the most conducive for letting this happen, but he thinks he can balance it. Probably.

“Awe, c’mon, we can’t disappoint them! Let’s give it a shot.”

Diluc

It’s a miracle he didn’t spontaneously combust after reading the question. On one hand, it comes as a major relief that your parents approve of him enough to consider this possibility. On the other hand... it raises a wide variety of concerns. Does this mean he formally has permission to wed you? He was intending on asking for permission some point down the line, so this is simply speeding up the process. He has the ring purchased and everything (it’s been sitting in his breast pocket for months — he gets nervous whenever you hug him in case you might notice it). All of this weighs down on his mind until you read over the letter yourself and laugh it off.

“Diluc, they’re teasing. There’s no need to look so grave.”

“Ah... so it was a mere jest. Of course. I was aware all along.”

Kaeya

You’re going to be hearing about this for weeks. Good luck getting him to talk about anything else. It’ll be slipping into every conversation, for better or for worse. He won’t dig that deep into the subject, however; any serious attempt on your behalf to discuss the future are smoothly dodged. He does the same in his reply to their letter. It’s likely they’ll forget they ever asked with the new set of interesting topics he distracts them with. In truth, Kaeya has some deeply rooted fears after being abandoned by one father and left behind by another. He’s not confident that he’d be able to by the kind of father he knows his children deserve. That doesn’t stop him from teasing you though.

“Ah ah ah, you’re speaking to the future father of your children. Let’s see some respect, shall we?”

Zhongli

Mortification sets in before anything else. Zhongli doesn’t seem to mind, yet while you’re staring at the incriminating piece of paper, you recall that they just asked this of an archon. A literal god. You’re grateful he has a good sense of humor and tends to take things in stride. He would be slightly concerned if this was a point of contention — Zhongli does want your parent’s express approval, after all. He believes in the importance of respecting and honoring family. You thought he wouldn’t be interested in touching on the subject, but he’s interested on hearing your thoughts. This leads to some interesting conversations on what the children of a god would even be like.

“So, does that mean they’d have wings? Or be little dragons if they take after you?”

“Hm... I hadn’t considered the possibility. I suppose it is possible.”

Albedo

“That’s an odd-looking crossword puzzle.”

“Crossword puzzle...? Ah. you must mean this punnett square.”

Albedo kinda forgets about responding to their letter in favor of doing some research of his own. You’ll walk into his office and find him laser-focused on predicting what your children might look like. His blunt explanation upon your prompting to learn what he was doing almost put you into shock. Shouldn’t he be like... embarrassed...? Okay, now he’s muttering under his breath about fixing Exhibit D’s eyes to reflect your appearance more. You have to stop him from sending these “samples for their consideration” to your parents. The two of you come to an agreement that Klee can count as their grandchild for the time being.

Xiao

Children... tiny humans... a bunch of little [First]-looking creatures... huh. He’d never considered the possibility before. The poor guy already has a difficult time enough as is when it comes to your parent’s other questions. He can’t very well answer the inquiry of what occupation he’s in with, “Slaying the demonic spirits of Liyue,” now can he? So this is a whole new problem to wrestle with. Xiao’s convinced these mortal ponderings will be the death of him. Some seeds of inadequacy might be planted to later blossom if you’re interested in having children; he really doesn’t think he’d be the best avenue to go about that. Having a yaksha as a partner wouldn’t guarantee a future like the one most mortals chase after. In another life, perhaps.

“... Irksome questions like these are the reasons why I avoid interacting with mortals.”

Scaramouche

Your concern about Scaramouche winning your parents over was for naught. You thought his prickly personality would be off-putting for sure, but apparently, the man has a built-in on and off switch, because he became an almost different person entirely in their presence. He’s even calling them mom and dad now. How does he do it? No one knows for certain (you called him creepy and he waved you off with a scoff). He finds the question bemusing, more so for its potential to fluster you. May or may not have planted the idea in their head months prior just to gauge how you would react to it. If you seem vehemently opposed to the idea, he gets a little sulky.

“What, am I so awful that you couldn’t stand the thought of bearing my offspring?”

“... Do you want me to be honest or do you want me to be nice?”

Kazuha

Kazuha exchanges correspondence with your parents regularly, they’re absolutely endeared by him. This is the first time he’s sheepishly approached you to get your opinion on how to reply. Kazuha is content with his lot in life, though this does dredge up some old wounds. If the Kaedehara Clan was not a husk of its former opulence, then he’d feel more confident in asking you to one day consider having children. He wants his children to be able and take pride in their family name like he was never could. When moods such as this as this arise, he tends to lose himself to his thoughts. You’ll need to offer some reassurance before he gets back to normal.

“As I am now... can I truly say I am worthy of being your lifelong partner? Ah, forget I said anything. Please don’t mind my ramblings.”

#childe x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #zhongli x reader #albedo x reader #xiao x reader #scaramouche x reader #kazuha x reader #tartaglia x reader #diluc ragnivindr x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #kaedehara kazuha x reader #genshin impact x reader #my stuff

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daniclaytcn · 3 years ago

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hustling for the good life (never thought i’d meet you here)

Summary: “Erm,” Buck says eloquently and when the stranger’s lips twitch, he wonders if it’s possible to die of embarrassment. After a moment’s struggle, he manages to pull himself together and says, “Hi. I’m Buck.”

“Eddie,” the man replies, raking his gaze over Buck in a way that makes him feel ready to combust. “I don’t recall seeing you at the wedding. Are you on the bride’s side, or the groom’s?”

Shit.

or, a different first meeting, where buck accidentally crashes eddie's sister's wedding reception. just normal stuff.

(read on ao3)

thank you, @tawaifeddiediaz for all your help with this!

Buck slips through the glass doors separating the two party halls, stumbles through a throng of excited little ladies speaking rapid-fire Spanish and slumps against a wall in a dark corner, taking in a huge breath of relief.

He knows fully well that he should be back in the other hall, suffering through alongside Maddie, the fancy business event their parents had roped them into attending. After years of stony silence, of Buck going from one place to the next in a desperate attempt to find a home; of Maddie trapped in an abusive marriage; they’re both finally in a stable situation. Buck has settled down in LA for the past year and had just begun his time as a probationary firefighter with the LAFD when Maddie found him six months ago.

When she’d settled into her job as a dispatcher, it had been Maddie's idea to reach out to their parents. Buck had been reluctant at first, but after the ill-advised, fleeting high that was his relationship with Abby before she’d left him, he’d started to think that maybe it would be a good idea to mend some bridges, to at least try to have a relationship with their parents now.

Wrong.

Philip and Margaret Buckley had been in Texas on account of Philip’s work, and they’d invited Buck and Maddie to come directly to El Paso. Buck and Maddie had barely said hello to them in the hotel before they were asked to attend Philip’s event—no talk of the last ten years, no acknowledgement of how the Buckleys had essentially disowned their children. Buck wanted to tell Maddie that he told her so, but he wants to support her more than he wants to have the last word, so he bit his tongue and attended the party with her. And, it has been a trainwreck for the past hour—Philip’s smarmy colleagues turning up their noses at Buck being a firefighter and his lack of a college degree, Maddie’s pinched smile as their parents delicately danced around her abusive marriage and all the ‘terrible choices’ she had made—Buck has had to restrain himself from throwing a drink or two in his parents’ faces.

Buck only feels slightly bad about leaving Maddie on her own when he makes his escape, but he’d lost sight of her for a few minutes and couldn’t bear to stand his parents any longer. He does feel bad about crashing—what looks to be a wedding reception, by the sight of it, but hey, the place is so packed that he doubts anyone will notice him.

…it’s just a bonus that some of the snacks he grabbed from a serving tray are better than any of the ridiculously expensive food his parents have been serving all night.

As he makes himself comfortable in his corner, taking a moment to look around the venue, Buck can already feel the rage and discomfort that has simmered under his skin since they landed in Texas begin to dissipate. It might be crowded and loud, but the atmosphere is so different, feels so warm and inviting in comparison to the cold, formal mess Buck just escaped, that he lets his guard down for a minute, pushes up against the wall and enjoys the snack in his hand. And of course, that’s when—

“Hello,” says a smooth voice, so suddenly and so close to Buck’s ear that he jumps violently, spilling crumbs all over himself as he turns to face the owner of the voice. A momentary fear of being caught out vanishes when he sees the drop-dead gorgeous man standing next to him, with thick hair slicked back and amused brown eyes, wearing a navy-blue suit that frankly looks obscene with how well it’s tailored to fit his form.

“Erm,” Buck says eloquently and when the stranger’s lips twitch, he wonders if it’s possible to die of embarrassment. After a moment’s struggle, he manages to pull himself together and says, “Hi. I’m Buck.”

Shit shit shit. Buck puts a pause on objectifying the unfairly hot guy in front of him to try and make his answer sound believable. “Oh, I was there,” he says, trying for casual. “I’m er,” Buck chances a glance at the banner hung above the stage, Congratulations, Adriana and Ruben! “I’m on the bride’s side,” He finishes and gives a weak laugh, waving a hand. “Great party, huh?”

Eddie hums. “That’s interesting,” he says slowly, and Buck goes a little cold at his knowing tone, having a distinct feeling that he’s been caught out. “I don’t think my sister’s ever mentioned you. Don’t think I’ve ever seen you around, either.”

“That’s strange,” Buck says, hoping he sounds cool and unaffected. He’s not sure he succeeds. “I can’t imagine why she wouldn’t have.” He’s sweating now, uncomfortable under the stiff suit he’d dug out for the occasion. Not for the first time that night, Buck inwardly curses his parents.

Eddie only gazes back at him, his sharp stare betraying his smiling lips. Buck’s resolve crumbles like wet paper.

“Okay, fine,” he says in a rush, and Eddie looks satisfied. Dick, Buck thinks, hating how attracted he is to him. “I’m not supposed to be here. I don’t even know your sister. But I swear, I’m not trying to, like, crash this wedding, or score free food.”

Eddie pointedly lowers his gaze to the half-eaten pastry in Buck’s hand. Buck can feel himself go bright red, and promptly tucks it out of sight.

“…aside from that,” he amends. “Look, I’m from the other hall. It’s a party being hosted by my parents, and I didn’t even want to come, but I didn’t want to leave my sister alone. It just got to be a lot, and I needed to breathe, and coming in here seemed less conspicuous than sneaking out through the front entrance.”

He’s not sure why he’s even telling a complete stranger all this. His story sounds ridiculous when said out loud and there’s no reason for Eddie to believe him. Against all odds, though, Buck sees Eddie’s eyes soften a little, and he visibly relaxes.

“I take it you don’t get along with your parents?” Eddie asks.

Buck laughs. “What gave it away?” he asks, dryly; then, feeling sheepish, he adds, “Look, I’m really sorry I came in here. I promise you; I don’t have a habit of crashing the wedding receptions of random strangers.” Eddie laughs at that, and not to sound cheesy, but it’s a fucking beautiful sound.

“I certainly hope so,” Eddie says, amused. “You’re not very good at being sneaky.”

Buck’s mouth falls open with mock outrage, but Eddie goes on. “Look, do you wanna get out of here?”

Buck only blinks at him and Eddie rolls his eyes. “There’s a door in the back that leads out into the hallway. It’s technically staff-only but…” He shrugs. “I could use some air, too.”

“And you’re inviting a stranger who just crashed your sister’s wedding to come with you?” Buck asks, baffled.

Eddie smirks. “Well, it’s either that or you stay here and get caught by my parents, who are a lot less nice than I am.” Buck follows his gaze to an older couple who seem stern and no-nonsense, even through their joy for their daughter, and cringes. “On second thought…”

They escape into the darkened corridor outside the party hall a few minutes later. Eddie’s snagged a bottle of wine from the open bar and Buck blinks at it, wondering when he had the time to do that. He sits down cross-legged on the floor and after a moment’s hesitation, Buck joins him.

“So, is there a particular reason you’re escaping your own sister’s wedding?” Buck asks curiously, accepting the bottle when Eddie passes it to him. Eddie visibly grimaces, looking a bit guilty. It’s such a sharp contrast to the rest of him; the polished, picture-perfect image he cuts in his crisp suit and styled hair and handsome face.

Buck likes it.

“I, erm,” Eddie pauses, considering, and then sighs. “My wife divorced me,” he admits and Buck twists his head around to look at him in surprise. He glances down surreptitiously, and sure enough, he thinks he can make out a tan line on Eddie’s ring finger.

“I love my family,” Eddie continues, “But they’ve been a little, well. Judgemental. About all of this. And they never really liked her, so now it’s all thinly veiled ‘I told you so’s from most of them. I love my sister and I want to support her, but I also need a break from being under their attention.”

“Is that why you bought my story so easily?” Buck asks, Eddie chuckles.

“I guess. I can understand complicated families,” He casts up his eyes at Buck. “What’s the story with yours?”

Buck sighs. How does he explain his parents’ cold, painful indifference; the years of silence, and the fact that his big sister had to practically raise him when she was a kid herself? How does he dump all of that on a stranger? Even for the kindness in Eddie’s eyes, and the understanding he feels from the other man; it’s all too much. Buck is too much. It’s been made pretty clear to him all of his life.

Taking a savage swig from the bottle, Buck sighs and thumps his head against the wall.

Eddie seems to sense his reluctance to open up, and starts quietly talking instead, about his sisters. Adriana, the one who’s gotten married and has begun working in a big law firm. Sophia, who’s just started college, loves pop music and the colour pink and endlessly mocking her big brother. “Sounds like Maddie,” Buck interjects, and Eddie laughs.

“Sisters,” he says, fondly, and Buck starts telling him about Maddie, about what a badass she is, how she definitely has a crush on his co-worker but is too stubborn to admit it, how she used to be a nurse, and what an amazing dispatcher she makes these days. The bottle of wine sits forgotten between them as they’re suddenly talking like they’ve known each other all their lives. Eddie has a dry, wicked sense of humour that makes Buck laugh until his stomach hurts. He continues to listen attentively even when Buck diverges in the middle of a story to follow a different train of thought, and that makes his heart hurt in a funny way.

He thinks he understands why Eddie invited him out here. Maybe Eddie recognized another kindred spirit, just like Buck did.

Buck has just mentioned that he’s a firefighter when Eddie lets out a low sound of surprise.

“No shit?” He says. “I just applied to the Fire Academy.”

“You’re kidding,” Buck says, amazed. Eddie shakes his head and tells him how he’s been working three jobs since his wife left, and how firefighting seemed like a good choice.

“My parents say I’m practically killing myself, and they’re probably right,” a shadow crosses over Eddie’s face like he’s remembering something unpleasant. “Most of all, I hate not being able to spend enough time with my son.”

Buck jolts. “Whoa, you got a kid?”

Eddie tenses, and looks at him carefully, but whatever he sees in Buck’s face must reassure him, so he pulls out his phone and shows him the lock screen—a picture of an adorable curly-haired boy on crutches with the biggest grin on his face. Buck’s heart melts. “He’s super adorable.”

“He’s seven,” Eddie says, tucking his phone back into his pocket. “I, uh, I’ve either been working or being at home with him, so this is the first night in ages I haven’t done either. Feels a bit weird, to be honest.”

“Well, your entire life can’t revolve around being a dad,” Buck points out, reasonably, but Eddie sighs and looks away. Sensing that this is a potentially explosive topic, he decides not to push.

“If this is your first night out in a while, I’m surprised you chose to spend it with me,” Buck jokes, trying to lighten the mood. Eddie smiles.

“Well, you were being quite conspicuous in a wedding reception you weren’t supposed to be at,” Eddie teases. “I figured it would be interesting if nothing else?”

“I was not,” Buck protests. “That party is packed, Eddie. I didn’t think I was noticeable.”

Eddie shrugs. “Well, maybe I was just paying attention,” he replies, and Buck knows, he knows Eddie doesn’t mean anything deeper, but the words still make his heart do a pathetic flip in his chest. Spending all this time with his parents had made him feel like he was back there in his childhood home, unseen and unheard, tiny and invisible. And to be seen—to be listened to—by someone he’s just met…

Well.

It feels a lot like hope, Buck thinks and turns to look at Eddie, only to find his face inches away from his.

When did we get so close, Buck thinks dazedly, seconds before Eddie’s lips are on his.

Eddie tastes like the wine they’ve been drinking, is the first thing Buck registers. He turns, trying to get closer, and grabs the curve of Eddie’s shoulder, relishing the noise he makes into his mouth in response. Eddie buries his hands in Buck’s hair as the kiss turns filthy, tugging slightly, smiling into the kiss at the groan Buck lets out. Buck’s blood feels like it’s on fire. He shifts his hands to Eddie’s hips, pulling him closer, but knocks over the abandoned wine bottle in the process.

The sound of the bottle hitting the floor is loud in the silent hallway and they spring apart in surprise, panting. Eddie’s eyes are blown black and his cheeks are flushed. He looks wrecked. God, the things Buck wants to do to him—

A buzzing noise from his pocket breaks the spell. Swallowing, Buck puts some space between himself and Eddie, fishing his phone out of his pocket. He winces when he sees the caller ID.

“Mads—” he tries, but she interrupts him, sounding furious, “Where are you?”

Buck checks the time on his phone and his eyes go wide when he realizes that he’s been out here with Eddie for over an hour. “I’m so sorry,” he gets out. “I was—I’ll be right back, oh my God.” He scrambles to his feet, as he ends the call, and stops, suddenly unsure, when Eddie imitates him.

Eddie tries for a smile but he still looks a little stunned. Buck can relate.

“So,” Eddie runs a hand through his hair, flustered, and that really should not be as hot as it is, what the fuck. “I’m guessing that was your sister?”

Buck nods. “She’s pissed. I have to, uh…”

“Yeah, no, I get it,” Eddie seems at a loss for words for the first time all night and it sparks a kind of pride in Buck’s chest, he was the one to do that. “Well, I guess—”

Buck’s phone buzzes again, with a series of frenzied texts from Maddie. “I really have to go,” he says quickly. Before he has a chance to second-guess himself, he’s darting forward and pressing a kiss to Eddie’s cheek.

He hurries back through the door they came through, leaving Eddie in the hallway with the wine bottle at his feet in a pool of the dregs.

It’s not well after the scolding he gets from Maddie and another confrontation with his parents that he realizes he never got Eddie’s number.

Hours later, after reaching home and thanking the sitter and looking in on Chris, Eddie is still feeling dazed.

Did he really just do that? Did he make out with a stranger—a guy—at Adriana’s wedding reception, did he almost hook up with him right then and there and…let him leave without even getting his fucking number?

Eddie collapses down onto his bed and buries his head in his hands. He needs to work tomorrow, and he should be taking advantage of what little sleep he can get. But he can’t get his mind to quiet, can’t stop thinking about Buck, the way he’d felt alive this evening for the first time in months. He can’t squash the guilt he feels about kissing someone that wasn’t his (ex) wife. Can’t help but feel awful that he spent the majority of this night just…enjoying himself, and not thinking about Christopher every other minute. Can’t run from the fear that what he’s known about himself for a very long time might actually be true now.

He needs to be focused on Chris, on becoming a firefighter, and on potentially moving out of El Paso. He can’t be thinking about Buck, or the way he smiled, or the way he kissed.

He just needs to compartmentalize this, like he does everything else.

Besides, it’s not like he’s ever gonna see the guy again.

Seven months after El Paso, Buck is coming into the firehouse along with Chimney, for the beginning of their shift.

“Look, I’m glad that you and Maddie are finally dating,” Buck is saying to him. “I’d rather just not hear the details.”

Chim looks at him in disbelief. “You think I’m eager to discuss them with you, Buck?”

“I’m just saying! I had to hear every detail of your date from Maddie last night, I’d rather not have a repeat of it!” Despite himself, Buck is grinning, genuinely happy for his sister and his friend. He can’t help but feel envious whenever he sees what they have, though—that ease, that comfort, that familiarity. He wants that for himself.

“You do realize that your protesting is just gonna make me want to talk about it just to mess with you, right?” Chimney asks, dryly. He says something else, but Buck isn’t listening anymore, frowning when he sees someone unfamiliar standing in the bay, his back to them.

“Hey, who’s that?”

Chimney pauses mid-sentence and squints. “Must be the new recruit. Bobby said we were getting a probie this week.”

Buck’s hackles instantly rise. “What new—”

The words die on his lips when the man turns around, smiling as Bobby approaches from his office.

It’s been months, but Buck still recognizes him. That face consumed his thoughts for weeks after he came back to LA.

He’s still as gorgeous as Buck remembers.

Eddie turns to look at them as they approach, and his eyes go wide for a split second when they land on Buck, the smile slipping off his face briefly. So he does remember, Buck thinks. He’s not sure what to do—does he try to confront him? Is that even a good idea, here in the firehouse, with all their colleagues around them? How would they even explain this?

Eddie collects himself remarkably quickly and they breeze through the introductions, and Buck is certain that no one but him has noticed the way their gazes linger on each other for a little too long; how they take a moment to let go when they shake hands.

Buck is an awkward mess around Eddie for the rest of the shift, though, and Bobby pulls him aside, though not for the reason Buck expects.

“Look, I know it’s difficult having a new guy on the team,” Bobby tells him. “But you’ve gotta play nice, all right? Eddie’s one of us, now.”

Buck just blinks at him. He has no idea what Bobby is going on about.

Buck does learn that Eddie was in the army, and…wow, that explains a lot about him, actually. He’d been pretty tight-lipped about his ex-wife, the circumstances around their split, and what he used to do for work, and Buck can start putting the pieces together. It makes him—goddamn—it makes him like the guy even more.

They end their shift by disarming a fucking grenade together, and Buck is amazed by how seamlessly he and Eddie work together, like they share a mind. They work side by side like they’ve been doing it for years, not even needing to verbally communicate to know what the other needs. And, when they get out of the ambulance and Eddie grins at him and tells Buck that he can have his back any day, Buck knows that he can’t pretend the night they spent together didn’t happen.

Buck lingers by his truck in the parking lot after the shift ends, twisting his keys in his hands nervously as he waits for Eddie to come out. When Eddie does, he makes a beeline straight for him, much to Buck’s relief.

“Hey,” Eddie says, a little awkwardly. “So, um. Insane coincidence, right?”

Buck laughs, feeling some of the weight lift off his shoulders. “I wasn’t even sure you remembered me, for a moment there,” he admits. Eddie looks surprised.

“How could I forget?” And Eddie really needs to stop saying stuff like that, or Buck will—he doesn’t know. Get down on one knee, maybe.

“When did you move to LA?” Buck asks, mostly to stop himself from lurching forward and kissing him. “I mean—were you already planning it when we met, or…?”

Eddie shakes his head. “I was considering leaving El Paso, but I wasn’t sure where, yet. And once I came here—I mean, I remembered you saying you’re from Los Angeles, but it’s a big city, I didn’t even imagine we would run into each other, let alone that I would be assigned to the same firehouse as you.”

Buck swallows. “That’s—that’s not a problem for you, is it?”

Eddie tilts his head, looking at him consideringly. “As long as it’s not a problem for you.”

“Hell no.”

Eddie laughs but looks slightly relieved at Buck’s words. If he’d been just as nervous as Buck felt, he’s done a damn good job of hiding it. “So.” Eddie fiddles with the strap of his bag. Buck takes a moment to appreciate how good he looks even in casual clothes; a red flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up and jeans that look like they’re painted on. He drags his eyes away when he realizes he’s been caught and a smirk appears on Eddie’s face. “What now?”

Buck takes a step closer to him. “Well…I could take you out for coffee?” he offers. “And maybe I could meet Christopher sometime?”

Eddie looks incredulous. “You remember Chris?” he asks in a quiet, disbelieving voice.

“I mean, of course—” but Buck doesn’t get to finish the rest of his sentence as Eddie shoves him up against the side of his truck and kisses him with the same precision and intensity Buck dreamed about for weeks, and oh, okay. Buck grabs onto Eddie’s waist, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. Talking is overrated, anyway.

Eddie pulls away all too soon, breathing hard, but he’s smiling as his hands come up to cradle Buck’s face. “Coffee sounds good,” he says and looks a little smug when Buck takes a beat too long to respond, the kiss having fried his brain.

Buck’s initial assessment of Eddie was right. He is a dick.

And Buck’s already a little in love.

“We should probably take this somewhere else before our co-workers find us and start asking some uncomfortable questions,” Buck says, but makes no effort to let go of Eddie.

Eddie grins delightedly. “Yeah, it’ll be pretty hard to explain to them that we know each other because you crashed my sister’s wedding reception.”

Buck shakes uncontrollably with laughter and lets his head fall into the crook of Eddie’s neck. “Eddie, oh my God.”

“What? I am never gonna let that go, you know.”

Buck pulls back, his cheeks flushed and his eyes sparkling. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Eddie only laughs and kisses him again.

#neethu writes #buddie #buddie fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 #911 fox #tuserzee #userisha #useralie #userkourt #usercorrine #userdorksinlove #tuserksn #alielook #i don't know what this is but it's been sitting in my drafts for the last? three months? so here you go 🙈

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