#it’s been way too long since I drew this AU

[puffins-muffins]

Control - The Tug-of-War

Pairing: Jax Teller (AU-ish) x FemaleLawyer!Reader Word Count: 7346 Summary: As tensions with a rival MC escalate, old feelings relent, complicating your fight to maintain professional boundaries. Torn between duty and desire, a dangerous conspiracy is uncovered, all while navigating the risks of your rekindled connection to Jax. Warnings: 18+ only please! (eventual smut) lots of innuendo, cursing, brief mentions of implied violence, angst, and feels. A/N: FINALLY! Part 4 is here. This took me waaaaay longer to finish than I ever anticipated, so a HUGE thank you to everyone still invested in Jax and Pepper's story. As always, feedback is encouraged and greatly appreciated - likes, comments, and reblogs fuel me. Beta'd by myself, all mistakes are my own. Without further ado...

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Days had passed since your ride with Jax and the almost-kiss—the memory replayed endlessly, torturous and consuming every crevice of your mind. The roughness of his fingers grazing your cheek, the piercing intensity of his eyes that seemed to strip away every barrier you had, and the warmth of his breath—teasing and familiar, carrying a blend of nicotine and mint that was undeniably him. He leaned in so close that the logical part of your brain seemed to disappear. You’d almost let it happen, almost let him claim the space between you. And the truth? You wanted to. 

So bad. 

It was the way he drew you in, no matter how hard you tried to resist, because Jax had always been like that—dangerously magnetic, a force you could never escape. You knew, without a single doubt, that once you crossed that line, there’d be no going back to the safe distance you’d convinced yourself you could maintain.

Since you came back to Charming, Jax had been careful, almost restrained—testing your boundaries. But now, there was no mistaking his intent. His touches lingered, his words carried too much weight, and his eyes promised everything you’d ever wanted together. 

He wasn’t holding back anymore and the feelings he stirred were overwhelming—a mix of longing, frustration and, yet, something dangerous and powerful. It was never just physical with Jax, he had a way of getting under your skin, making you feel seen in a way that was as thrilling as it was unsettling. Your pulse quickened, thoughts tumbling over one another, all drowned out by the agonizing truth: being close to him felt effortless, like slipping into a perfectly worn, familiar T-shirt that fit just right.

You told yourself you needed space, that putting distance between you two was the only way to clear your head. After hashing out strategies with Liz over the new evidence—you decided heading back to your office and home felt like the best option. 

You had an early motion hearing Thursday, and after that, you’d head out, giving yourself a long weekend to regroup with your team. A few consecutive days away from Charming would help you regain perspective, give you the distance you needed to pull your thoughts from the relentless tug of him. 

It made sense. 

But even as you planned your escape, the decision felt heavier than it should have, like you were leaving behind way more than just a case.

You sighed deeply as you parked in the TM lot, the neatly lined bikes confirming everyone was already inside. Jax’s earlier text had been brief—Juice had uncovered something about the rival MC, and whatever it was, felt big. 

Bracing yourself, you stepped inside the clubhouse, the all too familiar mix of cigarettes and stale beer, greeting you like an old habit you couldn’t break. Tension simmered as you walked in, the low hum of conversation buzzed from the Chapel, where the brothers were scattered, their faces grim and tight with unspoken worry.

Jax stood at the head of the table as he surveyed the room with the same intensity as always. Your eyes were immediately drawn to the fresh cut slicing through his brow, the faint shadow of a bruise spreading around his eye. Concern flashed across your face before you could stop it, but when your eyes met, he gave you a slight nod. His expression stayed hard, and the moment passed with nothing more than a look exchanged between you.

Still, you didn’t miss the subtle shift in his stance as you walked in, the way his shoulders straightened just enough to betray his awareness of you. It wasn’t intentional, but it was undeniable—a quiet reaction only you seemed to notice. 

Jax was never unaware of you.

"Alright," he spoke, his voice cutting through the room and drawing everyone’s attention as the men settled into their respective seats, while you stood to the side, your eyes never leaving Jax. "We’ve been digging into the Warlords, and they’re in this deeper than we thought." His gaze flicked toward you briefly before continuing. "Had a close call with their guys on the highway last night. Almost turned into a showdown, but we pulled back."

The Warlords had once been allies of the Sons, but everything changed the day Clay killed their president during a botched gun deal and then covered it up. Damon Reyes had taken over, severing ties with SAMCRO and escalating the tension into years of animosity.

You couldn’t stop yourself from glancing at the cut again, a dozen questions swirling in your mind already. You crossed your arms, waiting for him to elaborate. 

“We think they’re the ones framing me for murder,” Jax declared, his jaw clenched, eyes locked on yours.

Your mind spun, connecting the dots from everything you and your defense team had uncovered. The anonymous payments, the conveniently surfaced witness, the doctored phone records—it all pointed back to the Warlords. They were manipulating evidence from afar, keeping their hands clean while setting Jax up. 

“This might be the link we’ve been missing,” you realized, a mix of anger and relief washing over you.

“If I go down for this, Reyes thinks it’ll cripple the club. He’s been plotting ever since Clay killed Mendoza.” Jax affirmed, his tone sharp.

His words lingered in the air, Reyes’ long-standing vendetta casting a shadow over the room. The Sons had been fighting to stay one step ahead for years, but now the stakes had never been higher.

The room buzzed with unease; the brothers’ faces reflected the seriousness of the situation. Chibs piped in. “Aye, and it’s not just Reyes, Jacky Boy. That bastard’s got cops in his back pocket too.”

Your stomach knotted, and your brow furrowed slightly as you turned to Chibs. “Anything solid tying Reyes to any specific cops?” Your mind remembering Connelly. 

Chibs shook his head. “Nothin’ yet, lass. We’ve got whispers and cash movin’ around, but not the kind of evidence that’ll hold up in court.”

Your thoughts reeled as the gravity of the situation sunk in. “If we can make that connection, we could file a motion to dismiss,” you murmured, your voice barely audible. Taking a steadying breath, you stepped forward, your tone growing stronger as you addressed the club. “We have to be smarter than him. Reyes isn’t just after you, Jax—he’s coming for everything.”

The room grew silent, tension settling over everyone as the full weight of the threat sank in. This wasn’t just about clearing Jax’s name; it was about survival. The Sons were in deeper than ever, fighting to keep the club from being torn apart by the Warlords. 

As you stood there, you began to grasp the true depth of your loyalty. This wasn’t just a connection to your father’s club; it ran through your veins, binding you to a legacy you never wanted, but couldn’t deny. 

And your feelings for Jax—still growing, still impossible to suppress—made the idea of walking away unthinkable. No matter how tangled and complicated everything had become, the thought of leaving him—or the club—was something you couldn’t do now.

The meeting wrapped up soon after, and you barely had a second before you were on the phone with your office, more determined than ever. “—yeah, let’s have the investigator follow up on those two key pieces ASAP,” you instructed, glancing up as Jax approached. “And have them on my desk for Thursday. I should be back in town in the afternoon. Thanks Liz.” 

Jax’s face tightened as he caught that last part. His brows drew together, eyes narrowing with a flash of suspicion as he tilted his head. Before you could react, he reached out, his grip on your arm firm and lingering. “Come with me for a minute,” he urged, his voice insistent. 

Your heart pounded in your ears as he guided you down the long hallway, knowing exactly where he was leading you—the same place you’d avoided since being back, because the last time you’d been there, everything imploded.

He opened the door, stepping inside first, and you lingered at the threshold, uncertainty prickling at your skin. The room looked just as it always had—dimly lit, the smell of dust mingling with faint traces of his cologne. Your eyes landed on the bed, and a familiar ache surfaced, as if no time had passed. The pain, the shock, it all swept over you again. 

But with it, the good memories came too—the nights spent tangled in each other’s arms, laughter spilling into the darkness, and the quiet moments dreaming of a future that never came to be. 

“I didn’t think you’d ever step foot in here again.” Jax’s voice cut through the silence, rough and low. His words drawing your attention to him. 

You swallowed, folding your arms across your chest as if that could shield you from the past. “Neither did I.”

A flicker of regret shifted in his eyes before his jaw set hard. “So… you’re leaving, huh?”

You didn’t answer, letting the silence stretch as you took a step into the room. He was reading you, you could feel it, but you didn’t owe him an explanation. 

He took a step closer, his gaze hardening. “If it’s because of the other night—I’m not going to apologize.”

Frustration flared within you, a sharp scoff escaping your lips before you could stop it. Typical Jax—always so sure of himself, so unwilling to back down. His confidence grated on you, but it also pulled at a part of you that didn’t want him to apologize, even though he should. As his words echoed in the room, your mind betrayed you, drifting back to that moment.

How alive you’d felt during the ride, how safe yet electrified you were by his presence. It left you raw, exposed, teetering on the edge of something you weren’t sure you could control. You felt your resolve waver, torn between his stubborn cockiness and the dizzying effect he still had on you. His words, his stance, everything about him challenged you. 

And yet, here you were, standing your ground, even as every part of you wanted him.

“Jax,” you started, your voice tight, trying to rein in the whirlwind inside you. His name hung in the air, because you weren’t sure what you wanted to say. Confront him? Brush it off? All you knew was that his refusal to apologize only fanned the flames of everything you’d been trying to put out of your mind since the almost-kiss.

He stepped closer, the heat between you intensifying. “I’m not sorry for what happened… or almost happened,” he added, his eyes never leaving yours. “You felt it, same as I did.”

He had you mesmerized, not even noticing when he closed the gap between you. His warmth surrounded you, the passion in his eyes undeniable as his hand cupped your cheek. You leaned into his palm without thinking, the briefest moment of surrender, eyes locked, both of you searching for something in the other.

Your heart raced as his fingers brushed lightly against your skin, his lips—full and slightly weathered, hovering just a breath away. The curve of his mouth was captivating, a subtle contrast to the roughness of his jawline. Everything about him pulled you in, every part of you screaming to let go. Without thinking, your hand moved, gently brushing over the cut above his eyebrow. His eyes briefly closing and his body nearly relaxing at your touch.

“Does it hurt?” you asked softly.

“Not as much as this,” he rasped, his voice thick with vulnerability. His grip on your cheek tightened slightly, his eyes focusing on you again. “Why do you keep pulling away?”

His question lingered, cutting through your haze. The connection, so vivid moments ago, now felt fragile and uncertain. You pulled back, your heart aching as you did. “Jax, I can’t,” you protested. “Not now. Not like this.”

Frustration flashed across his face, his jaw tightening as he fought against his emotions. “Why not?” he wondered, his tone rough but quiet. “We keep ending up here.” He let out a sharp breath, running a hand through his hair, pushing the loose strands back. “We’ve been dancing around this for a while now, Pep. Every damn time I think we’re getting somewhere; you push me away.”

His gaze was unnerving, searching for answers you weren’t ready to give. You swallowed hard. “I’m trying to keep my head straight. You’re my client, first and foremost. And there’s too much at stake right now.” A plea edging into your words. “After everything we just went over out there, everything I’m up against now!” your voice rising slightly, “I need to focus.”

He clenched his fists, tension clear in the lines of his face. He knew you were right, but Jax Teller wasn’t someone who let things go easily, especially when it came to you. Pulling away from him bruised his pride, and you could see the fight in him, the struggle between understanding your words and his own wants and desires.

“I get it,” he muttered darkly, bitterness threading through his voice. He glanced away for a moment, his expression hardening before locking back onto you. “You need space from me.”

Here we go, you thought, biting back the urge to roll your eyes as you took a step back, letting out an exasperated sigh. You remembered this side of him all too well—the simmering agitation when he didn’t get exactly what he wanted. 

“You know what, Jax? Yeah, some of it is about needing space from you,” you snapped, your eyes locking onto his, unflinching. “From Charming. From all the ghosts that won’t let me breathe here.” The words came out sharp and cutting—words you’d swallowed for too long.

You watched his jaw flex, his face hardening even more, but his eyes—they were burning now, fierce and determined. For every step you took back, he took a step closer, the intensity in his gaze cutting through the distance you tried to put between you.

“I’m not a ghost,” he growled, his voice barely controlled. “I’m right here, Pep. You can run, put up all the walls you want, but don’t act like you don’t feel it too. Don’t act like I don’t know you, like I don’t see every part of you.”

His words were a challenge, a confession, and a promise all at once. Your heart hammered, the weight of them settling heavy and inescapable.

“You’re asking me to back off,” he muttered. “But you really think that’s gonna change how we feel? You put ten goddamn years of space between us, and the second we were back in the same room, it was still there!”

Another step closer, and he was right in front of you again, staring you down, eyes pleading with frustration and vulnerability. “You can keep pushing me away, but you know it as well as I do—there’s no escaping this. No amount of space is ever gonna bury what’s between us. And you know damn well that no one’s ever gonna know you like I do. Make you feel the way I do.”

His hands framed your face again, the heat of his touch sparking through you. “So tell me,” he whispered, his tone low and rough, leaning in just close enough for his breath to ghost across your skin. “Is running really what you want, or are you just scared of what happens if you stay?”

Your stomach did somersaults as you felt yourself drawn in, torn between the instinct to keep running and the undeniable truth of what he was saying. The weight of his conviction, the way he saw you so completely, sent a thrill through you. As much as it unnerved you, it tempted you, making it even harder to hold your ground.

You drew in a shaky breath, desperate to steady yourself, desperate for a break from all the emotions threatening to overwhelm you. “I’m not running,” you admitted, your voice quieter now, tinged with a rawness you couldn’t hide. “And I know a few days away probably won’t change anything. But I need it.”

You hesitated, the helplessness in your chest rising to the surface as you forced yourself to keep going. “This isn’t just about us. It’s everything—the past, the club, this trial…” Your voice wavered, a thread of desperation lacing your tone as your eyes met his with unflinching intensity. You needed him to let you breathe. “Just, please, Jax. Can you give me that?” 

His eyes met your intensity, a storm of emotions churning behind the blue depths. Love, history, and defiance all wrestled for control, torn between the pull that kept drawing you back together and the distance you were now pleading for. The battle was written all over his face.

But for once, he didn’t fight.

Instead, he stepped back, his hands falling to his sides. His jaw tense as if the distance itself physically pained him. It wasn’t surrender—it never would be with Jax. But this time, he gave you what you asked for, even though every part of him fought against it.

“Fine,” he uttered quietly, voice strained, the weight of his disappointment evident. It radiated off him in waves, lingering like an open wound.

You only nodded in response, grateful for the reprieve, but painfully aware of the strain it left behind. The silence that followed was suffocating, louder than any argument, filled with all the words you weren’t able to say. 

Because the real battle wasn’t about the trial, or the club, or even Jax himself. It was about fighting the part of you that longed to fall into him completely, no matter the cost. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The week had dragged on, each day a slow reminder of the unease put between you and Jax for your unwillingness to admit your feelings. By the time the final hearing of the week wrapped up, you had a small victory—a win for the defense and a step closer to untangling this mess of a case. You needed the win, but more than that, you needed to get out of Charming.

As you stepped out of the courthouse, the adrenaline from the morning’s success still buzzing in your veins, you practically skipped toward your car, eager to escape. But then you saw him—Jax, parked beside you, arms crossed and waiting. A sigh slipped from your lips. So much for an easy exit.

You could feel his sunglass-covered eyes tracking your approach. There was a weight in his stance, a tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there before. You tightened your grip on your keys, twisting them in your hand as you drew closer. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here.” you quipped, your tone laced with subtle sarcasm.

Jax’s lips tugged into a smirk, your sharp wit cutting through the tension like it always did. A flicker of amusement flashed in his expression. “Figured you’d try to sneak off without saying goodbye,” he replied, slipping off his sunglasses and hooking them onto his collar. 

You mustered a lighthearted tone, forcing a smile despite the knot forming in your chest. “It’s only a few days, Jax. You won’t even notice I’m gone.”

A shadow crossed his face, his jaw ticking slightly. “Don’t count on it,” he muttered. Then he took a breath, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “Listen… about the other day. I shouldn’t have pushed you like that, trying to get you to say things you didn’t want to.” 

Before you could respond, his hand reached out, his fingers brushing against yours—a light touch that sent a jolt through you, his way of bridging the distance. 

He glanced away, swallowing hard before adding. “I was an asshole.”

You raised an eyebrow, giving him a pointed look. “Your words, not mine,” you muttered, not quite hiding the surprise his apology caught you by.

Still, the unexpected admission eased some of the strain between you. You gave a small nod, your voice softening. “I just… need to focus on what matters right now, which is winning this case and keeping you out of prison. Otherwise…” You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. “All the things I do want to say, won’t matter.”

His hand shifted, thumb grazing over your knuckles in a slow caress, his touch radiating more emotion than any words could. His gaze dipped downward, softening, and for the first time in days, a faint spark of hope replaced the tension that had lingered there.

He lifted his other hand, his fingertips ghosting over your cheek, the contact achingly tender. His lips parted as if to speak, but he hesitated, letting the moment speak for itself. That flicker of hope, however faint, was enough to steady him. A small, almost bittersweet smile tugged at the corner of his lips, as if your raw honesty struck a chord that both stung and soothed him.

“Alright,” he acknowledged after a long pause, his eyes still fixed on yours. “I can live with that—for now.” He added his signature Jax Teller wink, a touch of levity that was so uniquely him.

You fought the urge to roll your eyes at him, settling for a playful glare instead. Even so, a small smile tugged at your lips. It wasn’t the resolution either of you had wanted, but it felt like something close to peace—a fragile, unspoken truce. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your drive home felt long, sunlight streaming through the tinted windows as your thoughts swirled. Exhaustion weighed on you, but adrenaline kept you on edge. Leaving Charming hadn’t delivered the escape you’d hoped for; despite the promises you’d made to yourself, the truth hit you with unsettling clarity—you’d fallen for him all over again. 

The more painful realization, though, was that you’d never really stopped loving him. No matter the years or the distance, he’d always been there, some part of you that refused to let go.

 Things were definitely more complicated now—so much heavier. You’d spent your whole life trying to separate yourself from the MC world. Growing up as the daughter of a former member had left its mark, a constant reminder of the risks, the violence, and the sacrifices tied to that life. And then, despite your best efforts, you’d fallen for Jax Teller. 

Twice. 

You groaned at the thought. Being back in his life now had forced you to confront a truth you’d spent years avoiding: no matter how far you ran, this was your legacy—your life—and it had taken root.

As soon as you entered the office, the haze in your mind cleared, and the emotions you’d been wrestling with were buried. Compartmentalizing had always been a strength, and now it allowed you to focus entirely on the task at hand. Liz and the defense team were already gathered, ready to dive into the next phase of the case.

The shadow of the Warlords’ involvement loomed over every detail, fueling the urgency that drove you forward. You slipped into your role effortlessly, issuing directives and delegating tasks with the precision of someone who thrived under pressure.

Time blurred as the day unfolded in a stream of legal strategy. The conference room thrummed with quiet intensity, the sound of rustling papers and focused voices filling the air. You and your team pored over documents, dissected evidence, and mapped out timelines. 

Every small breakthrough ignited a spark of hope, a flicker of progress in the uphill battle to shield Jax. It wasn’t just about the case anymore; it was about ensuring the survival of everything he fought to protect. The weight of responsibility settled on your shoulders and you felt more determined than ever. 

You were doing this for the club, for the family that had claimed you, and for the man who had a way of carving out space in your mind, leaving an ache that seemed to reach straight into your soul.

Finally, as the clock pushed past evening into the depths of the night, you packed up your notes and left the office, exhaustion seeping into your bones. When you finally stepped into the quiet of your house, the familiar stillness comforted you. You set your bag down, along with your favorite pizza and the six-pack you’d picked up on the drive home. Kicking off your shoes, you leaned against the counter and cracked open a beer. The restlessness inside you refused to quiet, buzzing under your skin, even in the calm of your home.

Without thinking, your hand reached for your phone, fingers grazing the screen. The urge to hear his voice, to make sure he was okay, tugged at you. But reason quickly cut through, reminding you of the promises you’d made to yourself. You set the phone back down with a sigh, taking another long swig of beer, hoping it would dull the ache.

What were you doing? You’d sworn you wouldn’t let your heart get tangled up in him, not when so much was at risk. Losing wasn’t an option—not when failure would mean more than just a professional defeat. Jax facing life in prison, being torn from his life and the future you now found yourself hoping for. The thought of losing him, of having to walk away again while everything was torn apart, was unbearable. You couldn’t let that happen.

Your mind wandered to your gradual reconnection with Jax, a slow pull back toward the man who once held your heart. He could still make you laugh, the kind of deep, unguarded laugh that felt like home. His rare, fleeting smiles—the ones he reserved for moments when his guard slipped—still struck you the same way they had back then.

There was a quieter strength in him now, one that made you feel both safe and exposed all at once. That fierce protectiveness you’d always admired was still there, but now it carried a heavier weight—shadows of stories he’d probably never tell.

The feelings he brought back to life within you were real and vibrant, not just echoes of young love—Jax had always known just how to unravel you, and somehow, he was doing it all over again.

Shaking off the weight of your thoughts, you gathered your things—the remaining beer, pizza box, and of course, the stack of work that never seemed to diminish—and headed to your bedroom. Routine steadied you as you washed your face and changed into your pajamas. 

Once ready, you spread your work across the bed, the soft glow of your bedside lamp spilling over the neatly organized files. You sank onto the mattress, the hum of determination replacing the restless buzz of your emotions. 

Among the documents, you spotted the original case files from years ago—Clay's murder of the Warlords president. You’d requested them for context, hoping they’d provide insight into how this mess had snowballed into Jax’s current predicament. As you scanned the pages, a name began to surface over and over: Reed Daniels.

First as a lead investigator. Then in a follow-up report. And then again in a list of interviews and testimonies from that case, your pulse quickening with each mention. Daniels hadn’t just been involved; he’d been deeply embedded.

“This doesn’t feel right…” you murmured, flipping through more documents. You grabbed a notepad, jotting down dates and cross-referencing them with the current case. Your suspicions mounted when you spotted Daniels’ signature on a report from a Warlords botched weapons bust—the same one you’d uncovered during prep.

The same missing evidence, the same key players, and now, the same investigator.

It was nearing midnight when your phone lit up, vibrating on the nightstand. Jax's name appeared across the screen. Your heart fluttered, a flicker of warmth piercing through your concentration. You reached for the phone with a small, involuntary smile.

"I haven’t even been gone a day, ya know," you teased, your voice light as a giggle escaped your lips.

Jax chuckled on the other end, the sound low and warm. “What can I say? Guess I’m needier than I thought. You make it home alright?”

Leaning back against the headboard, you couldn’t stop the grin spreading across your face. “You worried about me, Teller? That’s sweet.”

“Sweet?” he repeated, feigning offense. “Nah, just trying to make sure you didn’t wreck your car fantasizing about me on the drive back.”

“Oh, you caught me,” your tone heavy with sarcasm. “It’s a miracle I didn’t veer off the road, completely blinded by your endless charm and cocky ass smirk.” 

“This smirk’s got a fan club, babe.” Jax drawled, his voice oozing with confidence.

You scoffed, though the warmth spreading in your chest betrayed you. “Well, I’ll send in my resignation then. I don’t think I’m interested in being a card-carrying member.”

“Liar,” he fired back, his tone slipping into that low, cocky rasp that always made your pulse jump. “You’ve always been my number one fan, Pep. Just don’t wanna admit it. But it’s cool—I’ve got plenty of ways to convince you to renew. And the perks? You know they’re unforgettable.”

That rasp in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, heat sparking low in your belly. But you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction. “I’m sure you’ve got the whole pitch rehearsed,” you shot back, keeping your tone light even as your heart fluttered. “But you should know—I’ve raised my standards since then.”

“That so?” his voice dipping lower, now almost a purr that curled through the phone and into your ear. “Good thing I’ve always been good at exceeding expectations.”

Your breath caught, desire simmering as the memory of his touch—his mouth—flashed unbidden in your mind. You gripped the phone tighter, determined to keep your tone even. “Bold of you to assume I’m that easy to impress these days.”

Jax chuckled softly, the sound dark and full of promise. “Oh, I remember exactly what it took to impress you. All those pretty little noises you used to make…” His voice trailed off, his seduction hanging in the air.

Your body betrayed you, a flush creeping over your skin as the unspoken memories lingered.

This motherfucker.

You exhaled a soft laugh, shaking your head as you twirled a pen between your fingers, grasping at the sliver of composure you still had. “Is there a point to this call, or was it just to inflate your ego?”

“Can’t it be both?” he countered, his tone teasing but softer, almost boyish. Then, after a brief pause, his voice dipped, speaking with a sincerity that made your stomach flip-flop. “Maybe I just needed to hear your voice.”

You sighed—his tone tender, carrying that quiet care he always reserved just for you. He softened in ways anyone rarely saw, his sharp edges smoothing as if he couldn’t bear the thought of letting the harsher parts of himself touch you.

To everyone else, Jax was a force to be reckoned with—a volatile leader who thrived on controlled chaos. But with you, he wasn’t the ruthless protector of SAMCRO, he was simply Jax. The grit and intensity he showed to the rest of the world faded, leaving behind just the man beneath the weight of the patch. 

The playful edge lingered in your reply, an attempt to keep the moment light, but you needed to steer this conversation out of its current territory. “For your information, I made it home in one piece. Happy now?”

“Getting there,” he said softly, the smirk you could hear in his tone tinged with care. “Now tell me you aren’t still working.”

“I plead the fifth.” You responded sheepishly.

He groaned, dragging the sound out with exaggerated frustration that made you roll your eyes. “Pep, it’s after midnight. Get some sleep.” 

“Not until I’m done,” you replied firmly, flipping through the stack of papers in front of you. But as a beat of silence stretched on, your tone shifted, the weight of your discovery creeping in. “Hey… does the name Reed Daniels mean anything to you?”

The easy banter vanished, replaced by a charged stillness. When Jax finally spoke, suspicion edged his voice. “Daniels? The DA’s investigator?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, rising to stretch your stiff muscles. “He’s been popping up in a few places—his names on some old case files connected to the Warlords. And now he’s the lead investigator on your case. Doesn’t that seem… off?” you asked, beginning to pace. 

“Definitely off,” Jax confirmed, his tone sharp, the playfulness gone. “A couple years back, Chibs and I had a run-in with the Warlords, and one of their guys mentioned someone feeding them intel, keeping things clean when the heat got close. Daniels wasn’t named outright, but it fits.”

Your pulse quickened. “So he really is working with them?”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Jax muttered. “He’s probably covering his own ass. Ties to the Warlords and keeping the DA happy? That’s power—and protection.”

“If Daniels is tied to this, it changes everything. I wonder if I can prove he’s manipulating evidence,” you said, your thoughts spilling into the open as the weight of the revelation settled over you, the implications unraveling in your mind

“Damn right it changes everything,” Jax said, his voice laced with a restrained anger. “But it also makes this mess even riskier. If Daniels is playing both sides, he’ll do whatever it takes to keep his hands clean. That includes burying us—and you.”

The warning in his voice sent a chill down your spine, but your determination flared. “Then we need to find the proof before he knows we’re onto him. There must be something tying him to the Warlords.”

“I’ll get the club digging,” Jax said, his tone resolute. “Reyes and his boys don’t move without a plan, and Daniels might’ve left something behind. If there’s dirt to find, we’ll uncover it.”

You hesitated, sitting back down against the headboard. “Jax, just… be careful, okay? If anyone connected gets wind of this, they won’t think twice about escalating things. I can’t have you, or any of the guys, getting dragged into something worse right now.”

His voice softened, but the resolve remained. “I hear you. But I’m not gonna sit back while this asshole tries to take me down.”

You knew better, Jax was methodical when it came to handling threats, calculating even when his emotions ran high. He didn’t rush in blindly, but once his sights were set on a target, he was relentless. And when it came to protecting the club, he operated with a precision that was both impressive and terrifying. That same drive was what made him such a formidable leader—and what made you so worried about what might come next.

“Jax,” you warned, your tone firm but tinged with unease, “don’t make a move until we know exactly what we’re dealing with.”

There was a moment of silence before he exhaled, a quiet concession. “I won’t do anything stupid.”

Even as he said it, you could hear the tension in his voice, the barely restrained need to act. It was Jax, after all—waiting had never been his strong suit. The faint flick of a lighter followed, then the soft sound of him exhaling smoke. The familiar, intimate noise sent a pang through you, a reminder of just how much space he still occupied in your mind.

“Can you do me a favor, though?” he asked, his voice quieter now, the rough edges softened with concern.

“What’s that?” you asked, stretching your back and legs, trying to ease the knot of tension his words had tied there.

“Get some rest, okay?” His voice held a disarming gentleness, the kind that always seemed to soothe you. “You’re no good to anyone if you burn yourself out.”

His words made your heart swell, the weight of his care slipping effortlessly past the walls you’d worked so hard to construct. No matter how much time passed, Jax knew how you operated. He could see the way you poured yourself into your work, how you pushed yourself too far, even when you thought no one else noticed.

You hesitated, torn between brushing him off and letting his concern linger. “I’ll try,” you said softly, though you weren’t entirely sure you believed yourself. “Goodnight, Jax.”

“Night, Pep,” he murmured, his voice carrying tenderness that lingered even after the line clicked dead.

You sighed, your fingers brushing the corner of the closest stack of case files. But Jax’s voice lingered, stubborn as ever, urging you to rest. For a moment, you just sat there, his words replaying in your mind, that unexpected softness swirling inside you. 

Slowly, you stood, brushing your hands against your thighs as you moved around the room, shoving the files to the empty side of the bed. A fleeting thought crossed your mind—wishing Jax was the one filling that space instead. The warmth that crept up your neck made you shake your head, a quiet blush heating your skin.

When you finally crawled into bed, you flicked off the bedside lamp, leaving the room bathed in faint moonlight. Sleep wouldn’t come easily—you knew that much—but you closed your eyes, letting out a long, measured breath.

Your thoughts drifted back to the way his voice softened when he said your name, the way he cared even when you tried to keep him at arm’s length. It was infuriating how easily he could reach you, how his concern could consume you.

You turned onto your side, staring at the wall as the minutes ticked by. You’d done this so many times before—compartmentalized, boxed up your emotions, shoved them somewhere unreachable. But tonight was different.

Because it was Jax.

So for now, just for a moment, you let yourself feel the full weight of his care—and the ache that came with it. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The days had blurred together, your time at home quickly dwindling as the work piled up. You’d thrown yourself into your part of the case, chasing leads and piecing together evidence, while Jax and SAMCRO handled things on their end. Or so you assumed. He’d been unusually quiet, the texts and calls that once punctuated your days now conspicuously absent.

It wasn’t like him.

Jax didn’t do quiet, not with you.

The thought nagged at you as you sat at your desk, flipping through notes you’d scrawled earlier. Witness statements, timelines, and inconsistencies in the DA’s case were scattered across your desk, the disarray a reflection of how you felt inside.

You glanced at the clock—nearly 10 p.m.—and let out a long breath. You’d spent the day tracking down a lead that fizzled into nothing and reviewing an expert’s deposition that could poke holes in the prosecution’s timeline. The latest developments with the Warlords were troubling, their reach deeper and more calculated than you’d expected. 

You leaned back in your chair, tilting your head to stretch your neck and rolling your shoulders in a futile attempt to shake off the tension that clung to you, frustration simmering beneath your exhaustion. Something wasn’t adding up. The silence from Jax, the Warlords’ calculated precision—it all felt off.

Your phone rang then, piercing through the quiet. Jax’s name flashing across the screen making your heart skip. You didn’t hesitate, your finger swiping to answer.

“Jax,” you answered cautiously, trying to keep your voice even.

“Hey,” he replied, his tone sharp, cutting straight to the point. “We need to talk.”

You sat up in your chair, the clipped edge of his voice immediately setting you on alert. “What’s going on?”

“Warlords,” he said flatly. “They know we’ve been digging. They sent a message.”

Your grip on the phone tightened, dread creeping in. “What kind of message?”

“They’re watching us,” he bit out, his voice thick with restrained anger. “They sent pictures—of our guys, their families.” His voice dropped into a deep growl. “Club property’s been hit. They’re making it crystal fucking clear they’re coming for us.”

You closed your eyes, his words landing like a punch. “Fuck,” you cursed. “This is exactly what we didn’t need. Do you have proof? Something we can use?”

“No,” he admitted, his frustration bleeding through. “But this isn’t about proof. It’s about sending a message. They're seeing how far they can push.”

“And what do you plan to do?” you asked warily, already dreading the answer. “You know they’re baiting you.”

Silence stretched between you, heavy and charged. “They crossed a big fucking line.”

Your jaw tightened as the knot in your stomach grew. “If you retaliate—”

“They threatened my family!” he cut in, his voice rising with barely contained fury. “You think I’m just going to sit back and let them get away with that?”

His words struck deeper than you expected, and for a moment, the intensity of his anger made your breath catch. But you pushed it aside, forcing yourself to stay clear headed. “You don’t get to make that call, Jax. Not with this trial hanging over your head. If you move on this, you’re playing right into their hands. The DA’s watching your every move, waiting for any excuse to bury you—and the club.”

The line went quiet except for his uneven breathing. “You think I don’t know that?” he said finally, his voice strained. “You think I don’t know what’s at stake?” he asked sharply. 

“Then act like it!” you snapped, your frustration at him flaring. “This isn’t just about the club, Jax! It’s about your freedom. You need to stand down.”

His laugh was low, bitter, and laced with sharp defiance. “I don’t need you to tell me how to run my club,” he hissed, the words cutting through the phone like a blade.

The harshness of his tone caught you off guard. His frustration, his temper, they were familiar, but this cutting, biting edge in his voice? It wasn’t something he directed at you. You couldn’t recall ever experiencing this version of him. 

But you weren’t one to back down. Not with him.

You straightened in your chair, your voice biting back with just as much force. “And I don’t need you to blow up your entire defense because you can’t keep your temper in check,” you shot. “You want to protect the club? Fine. But if you want to still be here to lead it when this is over, you’re going to have to be smarter than this.”

Silence followed, but you could feel the tension radiating through the line. When he finally spoke, his voice was clipped and cold. “I’ll handle it,” his words leaving no room for argument.

You frowned, gripping the phone tighter. “Handle it how?” you pressed, the suspicion clear in your voice.

“Just trust me,” he bit out, and before you could respond, the line went dead

“Son of a bitch,” you growled, lowering the phone with a frustrated sigh. Your knuckles turned white as you set it down, the tension coursing through your body. You knew better than to trust him in a moment like this. Jax was ruled by instinct, by loyalty, and by that maddening need to protect everyone he cared about, no matter the cost.

He didn’t wait for permission and certainly didn’t stop to consider consequences when the people he loved were threatened. It was what made him the leader he was, but it was also what made him dangerous—to himself and to everyone around him.

At this point, all you could do was hope that, for once, he’d set aside his impulses and think about what was truly at stake. The knot in your stomach tightened, and all you could do was brace yourself for whatever came next. Silently praying that the fallout was minimal.

[miammey]

An angel made away from the watchful eyes of the gods

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I saw @qourmet's young madam lan art, and knew what I had to do.

[blaiddraws]

Part 2: 1

[first] [all]

[previous] [next]

WE'RE BACK IN BUSINESS, FOLKS!!! though this part may be a bit shorter than the first part, i think it'll be Fun, regardless.

i was also GOING to wait to post this until Tuesday or so, but my favorite dragon game is under unexpected maintenance and idk what to do with my life without it 😅

[elidritchhorror]

been thinking a lot about my WoL’s family lately and decided to draw them 👍🏼

[dannybobany]

Did someone say fnaf au art? No? Well take it anyway!

It’s a rite of passage for all fnaf au creators to re-draw this tse panel, I barely post about this au and have been postponing this particular piece for like a year… but uh!! Here it is!

Also. If you’ve never seen stuff about this au before. The sitch is that it’s a role-swap au where William and Henry swap with their wives and other characters are there as well- because I got tired of seeing a million swap au’s where William and Henry switch and never anyone else, spawning this au where mostly characters I like are put into the spotlight and girlbossing happens (and by girlbossing I mean murder of course)

Don’t ask me why she doesn’t have springlock scars on her arms- it’s a thing…

Original + alt under cut ⬇️

Alt provided because I do some real crazy color and lighting stuff so.. kinda hard to tell what things actually look like

(Edit: there was some weird proportion stuff happening so I had to fix it)

[rafedarling]

𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

requested by @gracerose68

pairing: drew starkey x fem!reader

summary: five years after outer banks ended, drew and you are enjoying life together, despite your ten-year age gap. loved by the entire cast, you are considered part of the “obs fam.” during a group vacation to ibiza, you starts feeling off and realizes you might be pregnant. caught between your fears of drew’s reaction and the unwavering support of your “siblings,” you discovers that love, family, and unexpected surprises can lead to beautiful new beginnings.

warning(s): english is not my native language. unplanned pregnancy, emotional vulnerability, fluff, humor, mild swearing, supportive friendships.

au: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated.

Your and the other actor of Outer Banks group chat was always filled with energy.

Chase: “Ibiza is happening! Flights booked. Who’s ready for sunburns and bad decisions?”

Rudy: “I call dibs on the best room. Drew, don’t fight me this time.”

JD: “This isn’t Outer Banks, Rudy. No treasure hunt to claim a room.”

Madelyn: “Can we focus? Who’s bringing sunscreen?”

Madison: “Y/N will bring it. She always has everything.”

You glanced up from your phone and smirked at Drew, who was scrolling through the same messages.

“They’re not wrong.”

“You’re like the group’s mom,” Drew teased, pulling you closer on the couch.

“Well, somebody has to keep you lot alive.” You poked his side, earning a soft laugh.

The trip to Ibiza had been a long time coming. Between work schedules and personal commitments, it had been years since the Outer Banks cast had been in the same place together. Despite not being a cast member, you were as much a part of the group as anyone else. Drew’s friends had embraced you with open arms, making you feel like family.

It wasn’t always easy being ten years younger than Drew. At 24, you were still navigating adulthood, while Drew, at 34, was more settled. But your love for each other made the age gap feel insignificant.

The first day in Ibiza was pure of laugh and every other things. About the villa, it was breathtaking, with whitewashed walls, infinity pools, and views of the sparkling Mediterranean. Everyone quickly settled into vacation mode, with plans for beach days, exploring the island, and late-night conversations by the firepit.

By the second day, though, you couldn’t shake the nagging exhaustion and nausea that had crept in. It wasn’t like you to feel so drained, especially when surrounded by people you loved.

As the group lounged on the beach, Drew noticed you sitting quietly under the shade of an umbrella.

“Hey,” he said softly, crouching beside you. “You okay? You’ve been quiet today.”

You forced a smile, brushing off his concern.

“Just tired. I think the travel caught up with me.”

His brow furrowed, but he didn’t push.

“Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“Always.”

Later that afternoon, a small girl wandered toward the group, her tear-streaked face melting everyone’s hearts.

“Where’s your mommy?” you asked gently, kneeling in the sand to meet her gaze.

The little girl sniffled and pointed toward the other end of the beach. Without hesitation, you held her hand, reassuring her until her mother arrived.

“You’re an angel,” the mother said gratefully before walking away.

“You’d make such a great mom,” Madison said, nudging Drew with a grin.

“She really would,” Drew agreed, his eyes soft as they met yours.

Your stomach flipped, but not in the good way. His words felt like confirmation of what you’d been suspecting but were too scared to admit.

That night, while everyone gathered in the living room for a movie, you excused yourself and retreated to the bathroom. With shaking hands, you retrieved the pregnancy test you’d packed.

The seconds felt like hours as you stared at the test, unable to bring yourself to flip it over.

A knock on the door startled you.

“It’s Madelyn. Are you okay?”

You quickly hid the test and opened the door, forcing a smile.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Madelyn’s sharp eyes darted to the trash can, where the box sat in plain view.

“Y/N…” she began, her voice a mix of curiosity and concern. “Are you pregnant?”

Tears welled in your eyes as you nodded.

“I think so. I haven’t looked yet.”

Without hesitation, Madelyn wrapped you in a hug.

“It’s going to be okay. I promise. Let’s look together.”

With trembling hands, you flipped the test over. Two pink lines. Positive.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, the weight of the realization crashing down.

Madelyn pulled you close as you started to cry.

“It’s okay. Drew loves you. He’s going to be so excited.”

“But what if he’s not?” you sobbed.

“We’ve never talked about kids. What if this ruins everything?”

Madelyn shook her head.

“Stop. Drew adores you. He’s not going anywhere.”

Madelyn helped you gather the girls for a “mandatory ladies’ meeting” in the bathroom.

“Are you dying?” Rudy called after you jokingly as the girls shuffled upstairs.

“Very funny,” Carlacia shot back before closing the door.

Once everyone was inside, you took a deep breath and shared your news. The girls gasped, their reactions quickly turning to excitement.

“You’re going to be such a good mom!” Kelsea squealed.

“If Drew so much as blinks wrong, we’ve got your back,” Madison added, earning a round of laughter.

The next day, the guys decided to go bungee jumping, leaving the girls at the villa.

“You’re seriously not going to tell him yet?” Madison asked as you lounged by the pool.

“I’m scared,” you admitted.

“You can’t keep this from him forever,” Carlacia said gently.

“I know. I’ll tell him tonight.”

When the guys returned, you greeted Drew with a tight hug. “I missed you.”

“I was gone for a few hours,” he laughed, kissing your forehead.

At dinner, panic set in again when the waiter asked what you’d like to drink. Thankfully, Madelyn saved you by whispering to the waiter to make your cocktail virgin.

After dinner, the group gathered by the firepit, and the girls urged you again to tell Drew.

“You’ll feel so much better once it’s out in the open,” Madison said.

With a deep breath, you pulled Drew aside, leading him down to the villa’s private pier.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his worry evident.

“I have something important to tell you,” you began, your voice shaking.

Drew’s brows furrowed. “You’re scaring me.”

“I’m pregnant,” you blurted out, tears streaming down your face.

“I know we haven’t talked about this, and if you don’t want —” you continue.

“Wait,” Drew interrupted, his eyes wide. “You’re pregnant?”

You nodded, unable to meet his gaze.

Drew pulled you into his arms, his grip firm yet comforting.

“Y/N, this is amazing. I love you. I love us. We’re going to be fine. I mean much better than fine.”

His words brought a fresh wave of tears, but this time, they were tears of relief.

Back at the villa, Drew insisted on sharing the news with the group.

“We’re having a baby!” he announced, his grin infectious.

The group erupted in cheers, with the guys tackling Drew in a congratulatory hug while the girls swarmed you.

“You’re stuck with us forever now,” Chase joked.

“You’ve been family for a while,” Rudy added, “but this seals it.”

As the night wound down, Drew pulled you close, his hand resting protectively on your stomach.

“You’ve given me everything I didn’t know I wanted,” he said softly.

You smiled, your fears finally melting away. Surrounded by love, you knew this was the start of a beautiful new chapter.

[peachsayshi]

PEACH YOUR BABY DADDY!SUKUNA.....

He distanced himself bc he's not a good guy, he's got a shit job, can barely pay child support but he does what he can. And he always looks after your daughter when you're busy, takes every moment to be with her that he can, even tho he knows that you're the more capable parent. You were always too good for him, and he was your bad boy fling, your mistake.

"I think you love momma more." His daughter told him, bless her unfiltered thoughts. She was probably right. Somehow, after all this time, he still found you completely stunning. He felt guilty for the way he treated you, seeing you persevere and thrive as you've gotten older. If anything, you got more beautiful with each passing day, and he couldn't be happier that his child was being raised by you, even if that meant he had to be out of the picture.

"maybe I do." He chuckled, a tinge of regret to his words. He remembered the ways he hurt you, the look on your face when he made you cry. His selfishness. It was always his selfishness that got in the way. "But I'm not good at it."

// brutally soft // III. 

baby daddy!sukuna x reader 

tags: non curse au; tension; reader and sukuna are co-parents; girl dad sukuna; mentions troubled past with sukuna; alludes to significant size different; mentions drug use and drinking; mentions cheating; sukuna being soft; unrequited love; angsty | | read this for more context & this & this

note: (I am so sorry this took me so long to respond to) but!! you don't get to leave something like this and not expect me to sweetly return the favor by meddling with your feelings the way you did mine. because holy shit, nyx, just hearing sukuna say "I'm not good at it" in a hushed, sad voice made me want to take my own ribs out.

dni if your blog is blank / ageless / or are a minor

"mama! guess what!" your daughter says. "I have a secret!"

you smile to yourself because she always has a secret to share these days. little, innocent things that capture her attention which seem worthy of keeping confidential.

"you know," you say as you help her into her dress. "you're not supposed to tell secrets when you have them..."

"but I tell you everything, mama!"

you lift her up in your arms, the weight of her body getting heavier by the day and reminding you of how fast she's growing.

sukuna is taking her to visit her uncle yuji, and she has been over the moon about it. you place her on the seat of her vanity, and proceed to fix her hair since sukuna will be arriving in twenty minutes, and you want to make sure that she's all set once her dad gets here. you giggle at her response, "okay, okay, what's the secret?"

she looks at you from the mirror's reflection and covers her mouth as she chuckles.

"hey, what's with the sly face?" you prod, holding a chunk of her hair gently between your palm.

"do you know ms. kiko?" she asks, referring to her pre-school teacher.

"mhmm, what about her?"

she giggles again. "well, she told told mrs. chiyo that she thinks daddy is cute!!"

your heart thumps. oddly.

you're not immune to the way that the women look at the father of your child. it's the same alluring, seductive energy that drew you to sukuna in the first place.

but it's been years since you've both been intimate together in any capacity, you're sure that he's probably got someone on call if and when necessary. considering he has more spare time than you do without a child running around, you're pretty sure that sukuna is satisfied with whatever situationship he's in. you've learned to swallow the discomfort of the idea of sukuna with other women. just like how you had to bury the hurt of the very one who tore your relationship apart.

you hum at her observation, your fingers idly braiding her hair.

it's not like you were single anymore either. you've been casually dating a lawyer on and off. it wasn't serious per se, but it wasn't a fleeting relationship where it made you feel like you were entirely free of the attachment.

he's even met sukuna at this point.

granted those dates are few and far between, but you were a single mother who worked full time.

trying to commit to a relationship is hard.

even though, you would love to share all this with...someone.

"anyway, I had to warn daddy to be careful..." your daughter interjects.

"warn him?" you repeat with a smile, her choice of words adorable.

"yeah! so, I told daddy that ms. kiko was in love with him, and asked him if I should tell her to stop..."

"stop?"

"being in love with him!" she responds with a grimace.

that makes you laugh. "and why would you do that, hmm?" you question gently for fun.

"because I know that daddy loves you more, mama!"

your heart thumps again, harder this time. so hard you feel it nearly knock the wind out of you. you clear your throat to ease the apprehension while your daughter kicks her legs with anticipation.

"and how would you know that?" "because," she insists, "daddy told me that he loves you more than anyone else in this world"

her words spill out of her, a glass of water that's been carelessly knocked over. you scrunch your brows as each word registers into your brain, soaking over your to do lists and mental checks.

"what?" you whisper as you stare at this little girl who has already carried on the conversation.

"after me, obviously," she presses - because no one can take her place when it comes to the love that you and sukuna both give her.

"wait-wait..." you say a little breathless, your hands suddenly trembling as you do your best to finish the job you started. "what did your daddy tell you? I didn't quite-"

"he said he loves you more than anyone else in the world..." she repeats, her focus on the rogue hair brush that sits at her small vanity. "so, yeah, that's why I asked daddy if I should tell ms. kiko to stop saying he's cute..."

"your...your daddy is just being silly..." you murmur, trying to underplay the statement. you slip the hairband around her second braid to secure the style in place.

impossible, you think. that's impossible.

so much time has passed between you both.

you buried that part of your past long ago.

left it and refused to look back-

"nu-uh. he said that I don't have to say anything to ms. kiko. that it's okay because he loves momma more, anyway. but daddy also told me once that he's not that good at it," she adds on, her fingers picking at the bristles of her bright purple brush, "whatever that means..."

"when did you and your daddy have this conversation..."

the realization hits her then, and she stares up at you before covering her mouth. "oops," she states, glancing from side to side, "I pinky promised daddy I wouldn't tell you that..."

before you can fish out anything else from her, she hops off her seat, her feet pattering away as she moves across the room towards her pile of plushies.

"who should I take with me?" she says loudly, brushing aside the fact that she said far more than she should. she stands with her hip jutted out and her finger pressed against her lips, her back facing you.

you have to lean against her closet to steady yourself. you do your best to rationalize sukuna's words, trying to decipher the pieces in this game of whispers.

your mind flashes to the horrid break up five and a half years ago. a memory that exists hazily in the back of your mind, to the moment of you standing in sukuna's dingy old apartment holding a lacy white bra between your fingers.

it was not yours.

"what is this?" you gasped, your breath straining as your chest rose and fell with unease. "what the fuck is this..."

it's the only time you've ever seen sukuna panicked.

your memory only captures his words in blurs.

of him drinking too much.

way too much.

of him not waking up alone but swearing that he thought he was was you.

of him not recollecting his own thoughts because he blacked out that night.

of him being just as shocked when he realized the warm body next to him was not his girlfriend.

he begged you to forgive him.

"Baby, I swear. I fucking swear I will clean up my act. I-I'll never fucking drink again. Fuck, I went too far last night. One of the guys was passing around these pills I shouldn't have fucked around with them..."

you couldn't.

you couldn't accept any of it.

you already tolerated so much with him.

the drinking, the recreational drug use, his inability to keep a job, and him nearly ending up in jail for causing fights.

but you saw so much more in that man - and yet, he proved you wrong.

this betrayal spoke volumes.

this betrayal proved to you that you were expendable to him too.

that you just weren't that important.

that shadow of that man doesn't exist anymore. not with this new version of sukuna in your life.

he almost makes you forget the past. this man; your daughter's sunlight. her knight in shining armor. the source of her joy.

he may not have been good at loving you, but that little girl has him in the palm of her hand.

and he loves her with all his might, it feels like his absolution.

"mama?" your daughter calls out, snapping you out of your thoughts.

she's standing right in front of you now, holding a rabbit plushie in one hand and a penguin in the other.

"can I take both?" she asks innocently, her wide eyes glittering brightly as she remains oblivious to your own personal drowning.

"n-no," you stammer out, and affectionately poke the small dimple in her cheek. "just one, my love. we all know your uncle yuji will have more for you when you see him..."

her eyes widen, "that's right!" she exclaims, "he always finds the best and softest ones!"

the bell rings, and you abruptly stand on your feet.

your throat tight, your stomach fluttering.

"daddy's here!" your daughter cheers, and instantly runs out of the room.

you pick up her weekend bag and sling it over your shoulder. you pause and exhale softly, telling yourself to relax before following in her footsteps.

sukuna's deep voice greets you first.

"look at these braids on you..."

you find them both at the foyer, your daughter already scooped up in her father's big, muscular arms. his hand is tugging at one of her braids and she's smiling wildly in his direction.

he's wearing an oversized leather jacket, the fit only bulking up his stature. your daughter is gripping his black tee between her hands, and she yanks it gently before asking: "can we go now?"

sukuna smiles and your spine shivers.

age has done wonders for him too.

"easy, princess, let me say hi to your mom first..."

your fingers grip onto the strap of her weekender bag nervously. you don't know why you suddenly feel very aware of how you look.

of the fact that you're completely barefaced and running on five hours of sleep. that your choice in clothes is a pair of unflattering sweats and hoodie which has some coffee stains on it. you desperately need to wash your hair, and are due for a manicure appointment.

sukuna turns to face you, "hey you, I didn't notice you standing there..."

you clear your throat again, "hi! sorry...I uh-I didn't want to interrupt..."

sukuna adjusts the hold on your daughter, allowing you to approach him as he couldn't take off his boots.

"she all ready for me?" he asks.

"mhmm" you answer quietly, at a complete loss for words because all you can hear is "daddy said he loves you more than anyone else in the world."

you hand off the bag to him, which he takes with ease.

"it's not too late to join us," he offers, but you give him a small smile and shrug of your shoulders.

"trapped with work unfortunately,"

sukuna glances in your daughters direction, "I tried..."

she pouts your way. "you sure, mama?"

"yeah, my love, I am sure."

you slide into sukuna's frame, doing your best to carefully not touch any part of his broad canvas. you stand up on your tip toes and place multiple kisses on your daughter's cheek.

"I love you and I am going to miss you like crazy these next two days," you state sweetly, feeling her wrap her arms around your neck to give you a hug and a kiss in return. "promise me you'll be on your best behavior..."

"I promise!!" she answers.

you find the courage to meet sukuna's soft eyes, the ease on his face doing nothing to help your shattering state.

"I guess you're both set then," you say with a sigh.

he furrows his brow at your tone, and leans forward to make direct eye contact toward you. your lips part slightly at the close proximity of his face with yours, and he tilts his head like a curious cat before asking: "you okay?"

your heat burns so naturally. your heart ready to climb it's way up your throat. you blink back in surprise at his question, and stutter out a "I-I'm fine..."

"you sure?" he presses as he casually stands upright again, like he didn't just pop the bubble of your personal space. "you seem a little off..."

"I am okay," you reassure with a firm nod, before dropping your gaze down at your feet as you shift your balance. "I-I just have a lot on my mind today is all..."

there is a gentle tap just underneath your chin, your attention lifts up to look back at sukuna. his expression is stoic, but you can see the concern in his tense jaw. he taps the space just beneath your bottom lip, your insides turning at the gesture he used to do to you countless times before.

"anything I need to be worried about?" he asks calmly, his choice of words a veil over his obvious unsettlement.

you feel like you really can't breathe then.

your mind spins to when you carelessly kissed him. to when he returned the gesture at your daughter's play.

what seemed so innocent now feels like a serious overstep.

your hand circles around his wrist and you pull him away from you. "I'm fine, Ryomen," you acknowledge politely, trying to keep your words detached but kind.

after you see them both off and shut the front door, you find yourself pressed against the wooden frame. your back weakly glides down the surface until you're sitting on the floor. you bring your knees close to your chest, shaking at the prospect not because you don't want it to be true, but because you are terrified of allowing yourself to even open your heart to sukuna again.

he broke you. he hurt you. and yet, he somehow was the only thing that healed those wounds.

he is the reason why you were able to bring your daughter into this world. he treated her with immense love and supported you in every capacity to build this imperfect little family with you.

ryomen sukuna - your dark angel. the source of your deepest pain, and the reason for your happiest joy.

the wall that you've kept between you and sukuna exists as a safety barrier. you can peek over whenever necessary, but it doesn't mean you ever have to cross that boundary.

and yet, you've caught yourself with the consideration of sitting on the ledge, or maybe even stepping onto the other side.

all it takes for you is to then see the cracks and damages of the past as a reminder of what keeps stopping you.

"get a grip of yourself" you mutter out loud.

you let go of that love. you remind yourself, and you both are better for it.

sukuna is a completely different individual now, and you are in a much happier place than you were before.

the whirlwind romance, the intense passion and addictive excitement fizzled. the sparkle having faded the moment his betrayal was revealed.

maybe your love for each other is just too destructive when intertwined so closely. but existing loosely as small strings, and tethered to the singular entity that lives and breathes because of it...

maybe that should be more than enough for you both.

and you don't know why the thought breaks your heart a little.

[milkloafy]

TOO LATE TO BE YOUR FIRST LOVE, BUT I’LL ALWAYS BE YOUR FAVORITE — MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

⋆｡˚ ❀ summary: megumi has known you since childhood as his sister’s annoying friend. now, years later, he sees you at a nice restaurant and wonders why you’re all alone. ⋆｡˚ ❀ contents: fem!reader, fluff, aged up au, gojo is…here xD, bsf brother / sister’s bsf au, reader wears a dress, megumi checks reader out, reader gets stood up by her ex womp womp… ⋆｡˚ ❀ wc: 1.9k+ ⋆｡˚ ❀ a/n: first jjk fic and i’m starting it off with a banger cliche ! i can’t help it okay megumi’s sister is soooo pretty pls by my bsf in another life :3 also ik this title is so long i literally could not think of anything so i was like okay yeah sure let’s listen to miss sabrina carpenter and then bam! here we go i guess! 

“Be good to my kouhai, okay Megumi-chan?”

Those were the words that rung through his head as he saw you sitting at a table for two, alone and dolled up in a nice dress with pearls around your neck. 

Megumi didn’t claim to be an expert in your life or personal preferences, but from what he did know of you, you weren’t exactly the type to take yourself out on a date all alone. It drew too much unwanted attention towards you that you likely did not want to deal with.

That was something he certainly resonated with.

After watching you pick up your glass of water and put it down five times all in the span of one minute, he almost felt bad enough for you to head over there and take you out of your misery. Unfortunately, an aggravating voice beside him reminded Megumi why he was in this fancy restaurant in the first place.

“Isn’t that right, Megumi-kun?” 

“Huh?” he asked, turning his attention back to his own table. 

Gojo was leaning forward on the table with a smug look on his face, a look that Megumi learned was never good. Although Gojo had shades on blocking his gaze, Megumi sensed Gojo was looking directly at you.

“I said she’s pretty, isn’t she?” 

Megumi glared at the white-haired pervert with an irritated look on his face. “She’s not for you, old man.” 

Gojo laughed as he held his arms up innocently. “I meant for you. You’ve been staring at her for a while now. It’s kinda creepy, actually.” 

“That’s Tsumiki’s friend,” said Megumi, choosing to ignore Gojo’s comment. “One of her closest. Not sure why she’s here by herself. I just want to make sure she’s not in any kind of trouble.” 

“Well, let’s examine the evidence,” Gojo declared, clearing his throat before counting his fingers on one hand. “One, her hair and makeup are done real nice. Two, she’s in a fancy dress. Three, she’s been giving that glass of water a death glare for the past few minutes.”

Megumi raised his brow, unamused. “Okay. And?”

“Your sister's friend over there has just been stood up,” concluded Gojo, leaning against the back of his chair in satisfaction. “Now, if you’re going to do something about it, I suggest you do it before Yuuji and Nobara get here.” 

“Why?”

“Do you have to ask? The moment they arrive they’ll follow along behind you and see what you’re doing,” cautioned Gojo, as if he wouldn’t join them in an instant. 

Megumi made a face at the thought, but he knew Gojo was right. Itadori and Kugisaki would stick their noses into any and everything that involved him and would somehow find a way to embarrass him yet again. 

Standing up, Megumi sighed. “How long do I have?”

“I told them the reservation was for ten minutes ago. So you should have at least twenty minutes now.” 

“Thanks,” Megumi grumbled, heading over to your table with an awkward expression on his face. He hoped this wouldn’t embarrass you further, but he could deal with your potential attitude as long as it brought you some comfort. 

Though you may be annoying at times with how often you teased him and called him girly nicknames he hated, you were still his sister’s best friend. Helping you save face seemed like the good thing to his sister would want him to do. 

“Hey.” 

Startled, you looked up from your phone and saw Megumi standing next to your table, his arms folded across his chest. 

The moment you met his gaze, your eyes brightened and you waved at him.

“Gumi-chan!” you sang as a greeting, voice too loud for the formal ambiance of the restaurant.

“Shh! Are you crazy?” hissed Megumi, looking around frantically to make sure Gojo did not overhear you calling him that. However, judging by the shit-eating grin on Gojo’s face, Megumi knew Gojo heard and would never let Megumi live this down. 

You giggled at his embarrassment.

Megumi huffed. Shouldn’t you be the embarrassed one here? 

“Long time no see,” you said, motioning for him to sit across from you in the opposite seat. “What’s little Megumi doing at a fancy place like this?” You paused, gasping in surprise from a story you totally just made up about his situation, he assumed. “Don’t tell me you’re here on a date! I have to text Tsumiki! They grow up so fast…”

“I’m the same age as you,” he mumbled. 

You reached over and pinched his cheek. Megumi swatted your hand away. “You sure act younger, though!”

“Shut up.”

Megumi sighed, wondering why he wanted to comfort you in the first place. You seemed just fine to him. 

“I’m not here on a date,” he finally replied, hoping you hadn’t yet sent his sister any incriminating texts about his non-existent date. “Gojo-sensei is treating some of his students out for a graduation dinner.” 

“Aww! Graduation, already?” you cooed, as if you didn’t also just graduate university this year. “They really do grow up so fast!”

“You can stop talking now.” 

You laughed, knowing better than to take his grumpy words too seriously. Megumi was glad he didn’t have to explain that side of himself to you.

“What about you?”

“Me?” you parroted.

“Are you here on a date?”

You slowly brought up your glass of water to you and nodded. “Supposed to be…”

“You’re dating someone new already?” asked Megumi, thinking about the annoying ex-boyfriend of yours you finally broke up with a few months ago. 

Hesitantly, you shook your head, toying with the pearl beads on your necklace. “Not exactly…”

He raised a brow, waiting for you to stop being so vague. 

“He’s not someone new,” you mumbled, your voice clouded with embarrassment. 

“He’s not new?”

“Oh, Gumi! Are you really going to make me say it?” you cried, puffing your cheeks in indignation. “My ex, alright? I was supposed to be on a date with my ex right now. And he stood me up!”

Megumi blinked, his mind jumping through hoops to piece together what you were implying. “Let me get this straight.”

You made a defeated noise of agreement. 

“You broke up with your ex, he groveled and begged for your forgiveness, you agreed to go on a date with him for god knows why, and he still stood you up. And now you’re here, sad and alone.” 

You groaned, covering your own ears. “It sounds even more pathetic when you say it out loud. God. I’m so pathetic, Gumi.”

“Hey,” said Megumi gruffly. “What would Tsumiki do if she heard you say that just now? You’re not pathetic. Your ex is the pathetic one.” 

“You’re right,” you sniffled, nodding at his word. “But I still can’t help but feel that way, though.”

For the first time tonight, he saw a dejected expression cross your face. It always unsettled him to see you unhappy.

“He’s dumb for standing you up.” Megumi rubbed the back of his neck, looking away uncomfortably. “Listen, you deserve someone better than him, okay?”

“Someone like you?” you teased with the start of a grin forming on your face.

Megumi rolled his eyes in annoyance, but deep down, he was glad to see your smile return. 

“Eh? Who said you would deserve someone like me?” he retorted.

You giggled, putting your hand over your heart dramatically. “Ouch! You wound me, Gumi.”

He shrugged. 

“And here I thought you would feel bad enough for me to finally give me a chance,” you proclaimed with an exaggerated sigh.

“Shut up.”

His short words didn’t disguise the heat from spreading across his cheeks to the tips of his ears. You always toyed with him like that… There was no way you actually meant it, he told himself.

“Hey,” he said, about to suggest something he might later regret. “Instead of sitting here alone, do you want to join me?”

Your eyes widened at his invitation and his ears turned an even darker shade of pink.

“Not alone! There’ll be others there,” he said hastily. “For the graduation dinner, remember? But they won’t mind.”

You tapped your index finger to your chin a few times, as if thinking hard, before agreeing easily. “Sure! Beats being alone. And, just for the record, I would have said yes even if it was just us two.”

Megumi scowled. His poor face wasn’t able to catch a break from all the annoying heat rushing to it. “Let’s go, then.”

As you stood, you smoothed your dress down and adjusted the length so you wouldn’t accidentally flash your ass to those seated behind you. Immediately, Megumi found his gaze wandering to where the hem of your dress hugged your soft thighs. His throat grew dry. 

When he managed to tear his gaze away from your body and back to your face, he noticed you looking at him always expectantly, as if waiting for him to explain why the hell he was checking you out for so long.

Megumi cleared his throat, hoping his voice wouldn’t sound too strained. “It’s a good thing you were stood up, you know?”

“Huh?” you asked in confusion.

“Your ex doesn’t deserve to see how you look in that dress anyway.”

“Oh,” you managed to say, averting your gaze as a bashful look took over your face. This was the first time in ages that Megumi has seen you look like this.

He smiled to himself, savoring the sweet look of shyness on your face. Typically, you were the one teasing him, much to his annoyance. It was nice to get some payback sometimes.

“Thank you, Gumi,” you murmured, fingers toying with the hem on your dress, only making it rise up higher on your thighs. 

“Just the truth,” he said with forced nonchalance.

As the two of you approached the table, the contentment Megumi felt was instantly doused when he saw Gojo, Itadori, and Kugisaki all ogling at you with their mouths wide open.

“Oh ho ho! Is this a friend of yours, Megumi-kun?”

“Hey, I’m Itadori!” 

“Run while you can! You’re too pretty for him, got it?” 

You waved at the table, somehow not scared away by their obnoxiousness. “Hi! And yes, his sister tells me that all the time!” You looked over at Megumi and winked. “But I think he’s just as pretty.”

Megumi groaned as he sat down in an empty seat, putting his head in his hands in exasperation as he heard everyone laughing together. He was already regretting introducing you to his idiot friends. 

But as you took a seat next to him, he peered at you through a crack between his fingers, and he couldn’t help but feel pleased at the joyful expression on your face. If it was up to him, that’s the only way you would look.

Along with your shy expression, of course. Megumi would pay to see that again as well. 

You met his eyes through the sliver of space between his fingers and grinned at him. His found his worries fading away. 

Megumi sighed to himself. Maybe he should thank your scumbag ex for standing you up, after all. Turns out he quite liked your company. Maybe even as more than just his sister’s annoying friend.

As if you were able to read his mind, you blew him a kiss from the seat beside him and his face reddened once more.

Gojo whooped and hollered at the interaction and Megumi felt himself sinking further and further into his seat.

Never mind, he told himself. You were still the pain in his ass that would never go away.

But maybe Megumi didn't want it to.

[millenianthemums]

i made a part two to that non-canon “ford finds out about bill” comic back when i first drew it, but i never posted this one. i was planning to do it later and then i forgot, and then i thought it had been so long since the first one that i might as well color this one. and then i spent way too long doing that. so yeah.

i think seeing how much Ford (and Stan) hate Bill would be rough on Mabel in this AU. because of course she loves them very much and she totally understands why they’re upset! but she can’t just let them kill her friend. of course she’s not gonna let anyone she cares about get hurt. it’s just tough when people you love can’t get along with each other. (her parents getting divorced doesn’t help how she feels about all this.)

bonus:

bill has a lot of problems mabel doesn’t need to know about.

[xomakara]

Between Duty and Desire

SUMMARY |  Wooyoung, one of the high-ranking rookies of the Brotherhood, falls for one of his fellow rookies, not knowing that you're actually an undercover cop.

PAIRINGS | Wooyoung x Reader

RATING | Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+

GENRE |  smut, angst, drama, Mafia AU, mafiamember!Wooyoung, undercoverdetective!Reader

CONTENT/WARNINGS | mentions of violence/death (as goes all mafia au fics), mentions of bdsm, mentions of masochist/sadistic tendencies, there's a serial murder of cops going on, lots of profanity/strong language, filthy dirty thoughts, unprotected sex (wrap it up ya’ll!), dirty talk, praise kink, pet names, vaginal penetration, car sex, public sex

LENGTH | 12,388 words

TAGLIST |  @tonystarksfavoritedaughter @iweirdthingsblog @dekyepunn @affy1106

NETWORKS |  @illusionnet @cromernet @wonderlandnet @othersideoutlawsnetwork @k-vanity @ksmutsociety

AUTHOR’S NOTE |  Here's the 2nd fic of my Mafiateez series!

Join the taglist here to be notified when I release the other fics of the series. Please be aware that this is Mature/18+ series. MDNI or you will be blocked (I will be checking)

Thank you @lovetaroandtaemin for beta-reading this! I'm glad you're invested and thanks in advance for offering to beta-read the other fics as I finish them . And thank you @hobeemin for the lovely banner and the divider again! Can't wait to see what you come up with for the rest of the series. 💚

Mafiateez series masterlist here

Wooyoung watched Yunho and Jongho shower their new wife affectionately, his hands crossed over his chest as they made their way from one room to the next before the big meeting started. Ever since Lee Byeol and her family defected from the Butterfly Syndicate and started working with the Brotherhood of Ateez, his brothers have been gaga over her presence. And though Wooyoung had no interest in her, there was no denying she was beautiful. There were times when he could even look at her and be attracted to her. 

Not for too long, though, because his taste was far different than most.

"Are you jealous that they have a wife?" a feminine voice behind Wooyoung made him grin, but he didn't look over. She stood close enough that he could smell the subtle fragrance she always wore. Fruity and sweet, he loved the way it blended with her natural essence. And beneath it all was the undeniable pheromone that drew Wooyoung towards her each time she was nearby. He always wanted more.

It was the whisper of breath against his neck, a husky tone he knew to expect before he turned, his heart thumping against his rib cage in anticipation of their interaction. His cock gave a slight twitch as well, but that wasn't out of the ordinary, so he paid it no mind. She could always make him feel that way without any effort whatsoever.

"Are you jealous that Byeol has two husbands?" He retorted, turning slowly to get an eyeful of his fellow rookie recruit. He watched as you ran a hand through your hair and straightened your suit jacket, both items hugging your curves just right, or was that because his eyes were trained to notice every detail about you? Every perfect imperfection you carried only heightened your appeal in his book.

"Please, it takes time and energy just to maintain one," you rolled your eyes with a wave of your hand, motioning to the world around you. "No, thank you."

"Oh yeah?" He wiggled his eyebrows. "Won't be long, and I'll have you screaming my name."

You rolled your eyes, wishing his ego wasn't quite so inflated. "You wish, Jung. Come on. The boss called us, and you're making me late."

You gave him a light swat on his perfectly formed ass cheek and quickened your steps to open the door to the meeting room before him. As you walked around the table and took your normal place standing behind Hongjoong's chair, Wooyoung continued through the door. You tried not to watch his broad shoulders move under his suit jacket as he moved. For a fellow rookie, his rise to prominence in the gang was shocking and a little maddening.

Once everyone was settled in their seats, including the members of the Lee Group now that they were allies of the Brotherhood, Hongjoong began his briefing. You had to make a mental note of what was happening, as you weren't supposed to let anything leave your sight. Every single person in the room was extremely dangerous.

And you silently cursed your chief for making you take this job.

Being an undercover cop within the top mob group of Korea was not what you planned on doing, but this assignment just dropped into your lap at the worst possible moment. Sure, your family used to run with one of the biggest Asian gangs back in the States, but you just weren't in that kind of business anymore. Since getting caught and sent to a juvenile detention center in your youth, you vowed not to do any illegal shit and went clean, going to the police academy instead. 

And now, here you were.

As an undercover agent.

Serves you right, you guess, for the shit you used to do.

This wasn't even your investigation or case, though. But your chief wanted someone fresh. Someone who had been raised by the culture and learned how to bend the rules. No one in Vice wanted this damn assignment. Who in their right mind would, honestly? But when the chief found out that you used to run the same circles, albeit on a smaller scale, in the States, here you were, babysitting a major crime boss and the most significant threat the Seoul Police had ever seen.

It took less than five minutes for the Brotherhood's recruiter to come sniffing about at one of their usual clubs. All you had to do was walk in the right spots, pick a fight and make it look good if needed. The chief even had a few of your fellow detectives pretend they were roughing you up, so your bruised face was an attention-getting catalyst for sure. It worked like a charm, and in a few hours, a pretty raven-haired guy with soft eyes and a dimpled smile offered help to the poor damsel in distress.

You wanted to throw up when he took you home and immediately tried to get handsy with you, his fingers drifting along your thighs. The thought of allowing any of these perverted fuckers to touch you made your blood boil. You didn't even let them think they could stick their hands into the promised land as you smacked him back and quickly grabbed a piece of hard candy, placing it square between your lips before giving him a harsh lesson. You hadn't even meant to break his jaw, but he should've known better.

 It was a lesson that Wooyoung never forgot, judging by the number of times you find the pretty psycho watching you with a frown when he thinks you won't catch him.

You still feel his heavy gaze on you several times throughout the briefing. With your hands casually tucked in the pockets of your suit jacket, you flick your eyes his way more than once, noticing he always glances away immediately.

That only gives you a moment to look at him. To take in the flawlessly groomed, long black locks of hair pulled away from his forehead and showing off his beautiful face. From his strong nose to those sinful pink lips, his large dark eyes, and thick dark lashes. The mole below his left eye drew attention, and you could understand why so many girls fawned over him, although he didn't seem to pay much attention to them. At least that you'd noticed.

When he suddenly meets your eyes, a slow, sensual grin lifts the corners of his mouth, and you give him the middle finger and glare at him as he chuckles. He knew what he was doing, and he fucking knew it. He was incredibly talented and incredibly unhinged, causing no end of headaches for you since you were usually on the same team.

Once the meeting is finished, you fall in line to follow Hongjoong and Seonghwa out, listening to their orders before you leave. You didn't miss the way Wooyoung's eyes watched the sway of your ass or his fingers twitching against his leg.

Stubborn man.

No, not just a stubborn man.

A psychopath who seems to like the pain he feels when you knock him down a few pegs.

Lucky for you, you enjoy it as much as he does.

He doesn't think about you during his personal time.

Much.

In Wooyoung's free time, the thought that the woman who whipped his ass in verbal combat the night you two first met, a gorgeous woman by any standard, was an incredible fuck in his mind, often presented itself.

Your sharp  and sweet tongue were not something Wooyoung was going to forget anytime soon. Or how beautiful you look on your knees or with his cock buried deep inside your silky warmth. He'd had many encounters with women he would call simply amazing.

You weren't one of them.

You were beyond amazing despite not spending a night with him yet.

Aside from your sex appeal and raw beauty, you were a damn great fighter and kept his ego in check, despite how young you were. He was surprised to learn about your juvenile past. From what you revealed, it seemed there was much more to it than a rough childhood. However, when you told him to fuck off, he was compelled to listen. That doesn't happen often; the shock is still there when you bark a command, and he drops to obey it like a faithful pup.

Despite being the highest-ranked rookie of the Brotherhood, Wooyoung was known to get shit done, unhinged tendencies or not. But when he hears your voice bark his name or sees your stern glare directed his way, it shuts him the fuck up and the other high-ranking members can't get enough of it. Hongjoong has asked you to attend more meetings than he usually lets other rookies or newcomers do. Wooyoung didn't question that, seeing how effectively you kept him and the other members on task.

Sometimes, though...sometimes he'd much rather let you tie him up and punish him. Like that one time you gagged him because he was yapping non-stop, and his incessant talking was driving you crazy. And boy, did it turn him on, knowing full well how far he could push you and how hard you'd push back.

You hadn't been joking when you broke his jaw the night the two of you first met. That had hurt like a mother fucker, but your fingers trailing so lovingly down his cheek, across his bottom lip, only moments after you had kicked the shit out of him while whispering harsh unpleasantries into his ear, was hot as fuck.

"Whatcha thinking bout, Jung?" You ask, plopping onto the chair across from Wooyoung as you get some quiet time in the lunch area.

With a cocky grin, he looks over your shoulder for the room and answers smoothly, "I want those perfect lips of yours wrapped around my dick."

Rolling your eyes and wishing you didn't need to maintain your cover, you toss an empty plastic water bottle into the trash can beside his chair. His eyes light up, having heard that thunk a thousand times over the months the two of you have known each other, and it doesn't escape your notice. "Wanna try that again and be honest this time? I could always gag you like the last time and tie you up..."

"Would it turn you on?" Wooyoung asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Probably," you shrug and laugh. 

He chuckles along, admitting that he would love to be tied up by you and dominated like an absolute god.

"God, is sex the only thing you think about?" You wonder out loud, popping the seal on a brand new water bottle.

"What else will I think about with you hanging around all the time?" He fires back.

"Aw, am I a temptation to you? How cute," you stand again and tuck a lock of hair behind his ear, caressing his cheek with a smirk as he growls at you.

"I ain't cute, but we could have a lot of fun together," Wooyoung insisted, grabbing your hip and yanking you closer. Your knees hit his as you straddle his lap, resting one hand on his thigh and the other on his bicep.

Your head lowers, hovering close to his, noses brushing, your words purred, "You like when a woman is in control, huh?"

"Damn fucking right," he breathed, licking his lips as his grip tightened on your ass.

"Too bad this isn't the time or place. Also," you tap his nose with one finger and straighten up. "We are not having a sexual relationship."

As Wooyoung swears vehemently and stands to follow, San rounds the corner to see the man adjust his semi-hard member. The way your hips sway as you walk away has San clearing his throat and laughing to himself.

"There's no way, man. No fucking way you'll be able to tap that," San announces with a slap of Wooyoung's back.

"Yes, I can. I will. She's already close, San. So fucking close," Wooyoung laughs. "We'll see."

"Not before she kicks your ass,” San laughs.

"Bring it, baby! Oh yeah! Bring it!" Wooyoung teases as your eye turns back to glare at him from further down the hall.

"Grow the fuck up," you call out, but Wooyoung is positive he saw that pretty lip curl into a half smile.

Yeah, Wooyoung knew your tell. You want him, and it was just a matter of getting through to you.

"Maybe she's more sadistic than we thought," San chortles. "She likes to boss you, and only you, around and humiliate you in front of everyone."

Wooyoung shrugged, laughing at the truth of that. "Hey, that's fine by me. She's so fucking hot when she gets in my face."

"You need therapy. Desperately," San said, giving his best friend an odd look.

Your next day off, you were in the local gym, punching the hell out of a punching bag. As you stopped for a water break, you weren't surprised when a man stepped up next to you. 

As you took a drink, you gave him a side glance, and he spoke to you. "Surprised you haven't slipped up yet."

"Goddamn it, Eric," you put your water bottle down and punched the bag. "I can't wait for this case to be over and sleep for 24 hours."

"How have you gone this long without dropping your act?" he questioned with a laugh.

Your fists pounded the bag as your elbows and feet flew. The air was filled with a light sheen of sweat. "I'm going insane and haven't had a goddamn decent fuck yet. Do you realize how long it's been since I've gotten laid, Eric?"

He leaned against the next bag, trying not to laugh aloud as you continued venting.

"Eric, it has been weeks since I've touched a dick, and all this tension between me and a certain psychopath is fucking ridiculous! I'm on edge 24/7!" You give the bag an extra punch and a kick. "HOW is this even a life for me?! HOW!"

"Then screw him and get it over with," Eric rolls his eyes.

"NO!" you screech loudly.

People working out or passing by turn towards the shout with raised eyebrows.

"Sorry!" you call out sheepishly. The men and women return to their workouts, amused by the verbal venting of a strong woman. "He's fucking crazy, Eric. I swear he's crazier than their boss and everyone else combined."

You and Eric had moved out to Korea after you graduated from the academy together. Your fathers knew each other back when their lives were filled with chaos. Before turning to law enforcement, both would cause the worst headaches for the police of their town and some surrounding areas. One thing had led to another, and somehow, the families had intermingled, resulting in you and Eric being practically brought up together.

Eric has been your partner since you joined the metro PD. When you moved to Seoul, you went from a beat cop to vice almost immediately, which brought on the undercover assignment. A lifelong friend, he kept track of everything you were involved in. Both of you understood how dangerous it could be, not just for yourself but for Eric, if the Brotherhood found out about your identity.

"What's been happening since the Lee Group joined the Brotherhood?" Eric asked, holding the bag and keeping up with the punches and kicks.

“Apart from the face-sucking with her husbands,” you say, “Lee Byeol has been sent on a few missions and has always returned unscathed, unharmed, and successful. Ever since she left the Butterfly Syndicate, they’ve made headway with many major operations in Seoul, especially because of the Lee Group's firepower brought with them.”

"Fuck," Eric grunted.

"Yeah. I've heard that the Butterfly Syndicate hasn't taken the loss too kindly. They are doing the same to other gangs and operations that leave their fold. And it's not pretty, Eric," you kicked the bag hard enough that it hit the man on the other side of it, who grunted when it connected with his abs and made him step back a little. "Any updates on our serial killer killing cops?"

"Not one. It's frustrating the hell out of the chief. This psychopath is smarter and more calculated than we are, and no one can pick up the trail. I wish he would make a mistake so we can catch him. He hasn't gotten messy yet," Eric adjusted the bag, resuming the role as the spotter. "But there is one thing in common on all the bodies."

"Yeah?" you grunt, a blow flying.

“The Brotherhood’s mark,” Eric said.

Your arms flop. You turned towards Eric with a surprised expression. "What?"

"Ateez symbol. On the bodies. Scratched on one of their hands. Always different ones. Never the same. It's odd," Eric states quietly, looking at you.

"That's weird... With how long I've worked with them, there's no way they're that brazen, and the cop killings don't add up,” you shook your head. “Hongjoong is a piece of work, but he would never attack the police. Not now, not ever. Whoever is committing the murders is trying to incite a war between us and them. They want that chaos. I'm telling you, the murderer wants a fucking war."

Eric grunted, giving you an appraising look. You punch a few more times, feeling the familiar pull of your muscles working. When you're sure you're in shape and your daily routine is complete, you wipe the towel down your arms and neck as Eric asks. "You sure it's not that psycho boyfriend of yours?"

"One, he is NOT my boyfriend. Two, he's an unhinged idiot, yes, but I've been pretty sure he wouldn't start murdering people just for fun, you know? He's smarter than he looks," you swallow a long gulp of water and lower the bottle. "This is a fucking shit show."

Eric gave you a somber nod and straightened the punching bag. "Sounds like something is about to blow."

"I agree. Get your head in the game, detective. It will get a lot worse before it gets better," you said, glancing at your closest friend.

Eric nodded his head before his eyes went wide. You knew that look very well and turned your head, noticing Wooyoung strolling through the gym's doors. With a sigh, you went back to punching and kicking the bag.

"Pretend to be my trainer or something," you told your partner, who didn't hesitate to come up behind you, shouting directions with the expertise of someone who knew what they were talking about.

As soon as Wooyoung saw you, he headed straight to you, giving his signature crooked, handsome smile, hands tucked in his jacket pockets. With your hair up in a messy bun and sweat slicking down your toned body and toned legs in tight gym shorts, he was salivating a bit too obviously and couldn't take his eyes off you.

"Am I bothering you?" Wooyoung calls from a few feet away, grinning broadly as Eric slows down his instruction but does not step aside.

"Yes," you breathe out.

Eric moves up to stand at your back, taking note of your opponent and what he could be planning. Your friend knew you could handle yourself, but he could also see how the young man eyed your sweat-drenched shirt as it stuck to you, leaving little to the imagination. Wooyoung also couldn't keep his eyes off the way your hair hung haphazardly, making you look so damn sexy it was almost distracting.

Your partner tapped you on the shoulder, telling you to take a break before he walked away to another area of the gym. As soon as he was no longer in view, Wooyoung took his place. His grin widened when you placed your hands on your knees and raised your head to glare.

"I love it when a woman works up a sweat. Bet it would taste as sweet as honey, nectar...ah fuck, woman, stop me," Wooyoung let the dirty thought spill forth but snapped his mouth shut before he went to far. Standing straight, you grabbed the hand towel beside the water bottle and wiped the sweat from your brow, glancing around casually. 

"So, what brings you to the gym? Out for a walk?" you asked before you took a long drink from your bottle, hoping to make the pretty little psycho jealous.

And it worked.

"Looking for you," his dark eyes roamed over you shamelessly, almost able to see through your drenched sports bra. "Have plans tonight?"

"Why?" you questioned, cocking a hip out as he took another step forward.

“Just wondering,” Wooyoung said.

"Are you going to use me for one of the Brotherhood's business ventures again?" you ask, eyebrows raised and arms crossed as he gets just a little closer.

"San wants me to collect some money a man owes us. There's a 60 percent chance it won't even become physical, baby," Wooyoung says sweetly. You glare, feeling the sweat starting to cool on you, and shiver as it passes over your spine. Wooyoung reached a finger out and ran it slowly along your jaw. "Give me some time, and I can warm you up again, angel."

"Touch me again, and your dick becomes my new punching bag," you warn darkly.

Wooyoung can hear the truth in that statement, and his eyes widen. But instead of scaring him away, his eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles broadly. "Baby, I can't resist. You are so much sexier when you are irritated, you know that?"

"Jesus, you need mental help. Seriously," you glare and grab your water, turning away.

"What can I say, honey...you and that cute ass make me want to follow," Wooyoung tosses his head and fluffs his hair, not once taking his eyes off your retreating form. "Is this going to become a normal thing? The workout scene, I mean?"

“Why? Scared that I’m going to be too muscular for you? Too buff and scary?” you ask.

Wooyoung steps quickly, coming around in front of you. "Hell no. I like how ripped you are. Like damn, those thighs could break my neck. I want them wrapped around it for sure."

You almost gagged.

Instead, you sigh in a way that lets him know just how tired you are of his bullshit. "Why are you bothering me, Jung? Seriously."

He has the gall to look confused. "I just told you I was looking for you. I was looking for you to help San collect money."

"And? It's my day off, remember?" you reminded him.

"What, do I need to get on my knees and beg?" Wooyoung wonders out loud.

"As if it would help any. Alright, Mr. Badboy. If I go, will you fuck the hell off afterward?" you glared at him.

Wooyoung wriggled an eyebrow in a way that should have been disgusting and lewd. Yet somehow, it was as if he was practiced at the move, and it was more adorable than anything. "Baby, it's hard for me to avoid you already."

With a sigh of annoyance, you shrugged and stood from where you were wiping down the bench press machine you used. "Fine, but if shit gets weird or sketchy, I'll leave your ass without a second thought."

It's well known that your strength is unparalleled, and the man the two of you were coming to collect money owed was intimidated by you more so than Wooyoung—not that many people weren't. Once you set foot in the room where he's waiting, the bald middle-aged man could only glare at you.

"Park Siwoo, you are late. Now, pay the 300k that is owed." Wooyoung's dark tone rumbles.

Siwoo makes a grunting noise, watching the way you eye the weapons collection across the room with interest. "The fuck would a woman be doing with a buncha fucking guns?"

“Mind your own, sir,” you say.

"Whatcha gonna do about it, little girl?" He taunts, spittle forming in the corner of his mouth. "You ain't got the fucking balls."

You're so focused on your inspection that the man and his threats are becoming white noise. It isn't until you reach out with one delicate finger, drawing it over a handgun, and smile at its smooth and polished finish that you turn back to your opponents. "Three hundred thousand won, Siwoo. Don't make me ask a second time."

“Or you’re gonna do what?” Siwoo sneered, his voice dripping with menace.

You straighten your back, placing your arms behind you and raising an eyebrow at his pig-like attitude.

"Look at how the little bitch stands," he barks out a laugh, finding this too funny. "You remind me of those cops out there. Did you hear? Someone has killed off the lot of 'em."

"Oh?" Wooyoung states, sounding only mildly interested in the news, crossing his arms as you finally returned to their conversation, your full focus trained on him.

"Heard it was you, Brotherhood folks. Making things right, ridding the streets of the shits who think they're doing good." Siwoo laughs until his eyes settle on you. "The fuck are you looking at? Have a good fuck like a good little girl, and make babies. I ain't afraid of you."

You had to stop Wooyoung before he rushed forward, almost succeeding, since he was an arm's reach away. "Easy, pretty boy. Don't get so excited." 

You said in an equally cold tone, one hand still holding the young man's forearm firmly as you blocked him easily, turning your attention back to Siwoo with the same half-lidded glare. "We're just here for the 300k. Easy in and out. No hassles."

"Make a woman do the dirty work, eh?" Siwoo growls, running his fingers down the blade of a nasty-looking machete. "One as small and weak as you? Must be tough times, man."

Wooyoung tried to make a lunge for it, but you beat him to it, leaping over the table as Siwoo reacted far too slowly. The machete was caught in your hand, barely an inch above his collarbone, before he realized that his life had almost come to a halt. A drop of sweat trickled down his brow. He watched you inspect the weapon, rolling it so the light danced off the edge and the blade.

"Good balance, could be sharper. Nice. What a shame," you said, lifting the blade higher so the tip is pressed against his throat. Siwoo was paralyzed and panting, staring at you with fear in his eyes, body visibly shaking in the seat he occupied. "The money? Come on now. Be a good boy and fetch my payment." You told him in a syrupy voice that almost matched how you flipped the blade.

Wooyoung grinned but did his best to stop his hand from diving into his pocket and stroking himself. That was sexy, and he felt a new respect and admiration for you. As unhinged as he was, Wooyoung was positive he'd never seen a more beautiful sight. He had half a mind to forget why they were even there and take you on that desk. He swore that your nipples were peaked enough he could probably make you squirm without even touching them. The image of you straddling him, shirt hiked up as your naked breast bounced so he could feast his eyes, flashed in his mind.

You did notice the bulge in Wooyoung's pants, but you would never call him out on it. At least not there or then. His dirty smirk let you know though, that his mind had gone somewhere he rather enjoyed. Your face is calm and serious despite the growing boner in the beautiful psychos jeans, because if anyone else noticed it, things could go awry real fast.

Afraid and hesitant, Siwoo's throat works a few times, feeling the cool steel press a bit deeper, nearly drawing blood. Slowly, a shaking hand reaches up to pry the machete away from his neck. Your glare hardens.

"Nuh uh. Where is my money?" you snap at him.

"Right. Of course. Behind the cabinet. Near the back. Here, the keys. Um, they'll fit." He tells you with his lips quivering.

You take the keys and throw them to Wooyoung, who wastes no time in taking the 300k that was in an envelope behind the wall safe. As you release the machete, dropping the weapon at the gangster’s feet, he let out a choked sigh. He watched with a trembling lip as the both of you casually walked out of his office, Wooyoung counting the money slowly, as if it meant nothing and was just background noise.

When the door closed behind them, you pushed Wooyoung roughly into the wall, yanking him down by his coat collar, your hand roughly cupping his hard on. "You're a bad boy. Get turned on watching a man wet himself with fear, huh?"

His only reply is a groan and his hands reaching out to grope at your ass, pressing you closer. "Got turned on by you playing bad, baby. Got me so fucking hot. How fast do you think I can get us a hotel room? A fucking penthouse suite? Have a room service dinner and some champagne?"

Your eyes were flashing, and Wooyoung wondered if his was as intense as yours was. Your noses brush lightly and you breathed out a laugh. "Hah, as if. Do you really want to die?"

"Only for you, angel," Wooyoung fires back.

"Sorry, can't oblige," you tell him, patting his chest before turning away. "And can't help you with the hard one either. Go home and play with yourself, pretty boy."

"Damn, baby. What I would do..." Wooyoung trills a delighted sound and a chuckle, stumbling slightly but grinning as he looks after you, his eyes dropping down your backside as it sashays enticingly, "for that fucking ass and those fucking thighs."

You give the psycho the middle finger and glance back briefly. "As if that's gonna happen."

"Can I at least jack off to the thought of you?! Jesus, I feel like a high school kid getting a semi when the school teacher walks by!" Wooyoung exclaims.

"Just hurry the hell up, and get in the car, pervert!" You say louder.

"That's not a no, Y/N. Did I just see a soft spot?" he teases as he finally catches up to you.

"Eat dirt and choke." You responded back.

"Bite that pretty lip a bit and look into my eyes, and I will. Sweet motherfuck, Y/N, you can kill a guy." Wooyoung chuckles.

"Not killing you... yet. Now, get the fuck into the car. And shut the fuck up before I gag you." You unlock the driver's door and get in, watching him watch you with that dumb little smirk. "If you be a good boy for me, maybe I'll fuck you next time I'm in a nice mood. Maybe."

"THANK YOU. Yes please." Wooyoung gasps, hurrying to jump into the car next to you.

"Hey dad," you mutter into the phone as you try to shovel rice and fried pork belly into your mouth at the same time. You were finally in the comfort of your own home after a long shift. Your fridge and cupboards were empty after only a few days of coming in and out. Being gone most nights due to undercover work kept you hungry but in turn gave you lots of exercise. You've seen the muscles that formed thanks to the regimen, as the loose black tank you wore showed it off. 

Your father always made sure to call once a week, no matter what, and the two of you would make a brief update. "How's work treating my troublemaking daughter?" 

"Honestly dad," you sigh into the line as a smile broke out on your face, "I can't wait for this case to be over so I can get some actual decent fucking sleep. I don't think I can survive the exhaustion."

"I know undercover work is hard," your father says sympathetically, "but you were always the toughest. If anyone can succeed at this, it'll be you."

"How are things back home? Mom doing okay?" you asked around a mouthful of rice, your eyes landing on a commercial where an idol group was prancing around a city street, flitting between fans and a few reporters. 

“The precinct has been keeping us busy ever since the family went good,” your father says. “I’m getting too old for this. Give me another ten and I’ll retire.”

"Don't retire and become a thug again, dad," you laugh. "You made a promise."

He chortles. "We all made that vow not to do illegal shit when you enrolled into the police academy and went straight. Your mom is doing okay too, since we've cut our hours back at work to three days instead of six or seven a week. She gets to enjoy her time a lot more and still works with the people."

"Please," you implore, "don't do something that you'll regret, like backtrack and do illegal shit again. You already left the gang life in the past." 

You sigh loudly, hearing someone on your floor open a door and scuttle through the hallway, hoping it wasn't the person in apartment 6A with the screaming kids. He always managed to show up in the early morning, around two when you wanted a nap on your rare free time.

"You sound dead tired. Go get some sleep, and remember to look both ways when you cross the street," your father advises and you can hear the humor in his voice. "Don't leave anything in the fridge, and make sure you're always aware and alert. Remember your training."

“Dad, I’m a detective in Seoul and you’re a former thug turned cop. I think I’ll be fine,” you say.

He lets out another laugh and you can hear some talking going on behind him before the muffled sounds return and you hear a click from another set of speakers. "Have you got yourself a boyfriend?"

“How can I think of dating when I’m undercover, dad?” you ask.

“What about Eric? He’s a great guy,” your father says.

“Yes, a great colleague,” you say. “Not a great dating partner.”

"No? But you've had sex before, right? Did you use protection? Were the other men at least clean?" He asks.

"GOODBYE DAD," you hang up the call as you roll your eyes with a blush. You weren't a stranger to a few sexual partners, but you weren't a woman who had a guy between your legs all the time. Work was always too stressful and complicated, and so was trying to have a relationship.

Eric was a good looking guy, and the two of you did try going on a few dates, but the conversations were awkward. It felt like hanging out with a brother. There was just too much history, and way too much embarrassment on either of your parts. Neither of you were too shy about your past, but talking about how you once got tipsy and fell face first onto the steps after the Christmas party was still too embarrassing. It also didn't help that his father is an ex-member of the same gang as your dad.

Rolling your eyes, you chugged some beer, eyes closing in bliss when your phone buzzes, and the contact for Chief Ryu shows up on the screen. You glance around the lonely and cold place that was your apartment. While the furniture you had wasn't top of the line, you did spend a lot of cash making sure your sheets and pillows were the softest and warmest. No sense in investing money in anything else.

"Sir," you greet him.

"Detective L/N," he returns, voice grim. "Have you caught wind of anything else while you are on duty and while undercover? Anything useful that may get us into the higher levels of the case?"

You are quiet. The rest of the rice and pork belly were shoved into your mouth as you glanced at your cell. A few more hours until daylight. Your schedule was hectic. "I'll stop by the precinct in ten sir, and fill you in then."

"Very well. Stay on target, and don't get sidetracked or lost. Make sure you aren't followed," the chief said. "Especially by that Jung Wooyoung. It's obvious he has a soft spot for you. Don't let him soften your resolve."

"Yes sir," with that you hang up and groan into your palms. 

You thought going undercover this time around would be smooth sailing, but with this pyscho trying his best to bed you, it was really testing your patience. He was persistent, and if you were in any other situation, it would actually be a nice boost to the ego. 

Too bad it was Jung.

With your hair tied up in a ponytail and a small, black cap on your head, a pair of thin rimmed glasses framing your features, along with your casual skinny jeans and hoodie, you blended into the rest of the people of Seoul easily. Without being noticed by a single person, you entered a back alley, making your way towards the police station where Chief Ryu is waiting for you.

The information you had collected during your stay within the ranks of the criminal organisation is dangerous, and it wasn't for the faint hearted. But after months, and many trials and errors, you finally gained enough access to be in their inner circle and you weren't going to let such an opportunity slip by. This case was getting close and if you play this right, you can nail some of the higher members into prison. The main objective was of course the leader.

As expected, the station was still very much busy. A few officers glance in your direction when you come through the backdoor, others offering nods of acknowledgment as you walk by. Some held stacks of paper and folders in their arms.

"Detective," Eric greeted you warmly, moving his own files into one arm, "good to see you. Everyone has been a bit on edge lately."

"I don't blame them," you mumbled softly, greeting him as you entered an elevator that only a few detectives and officers had access to. "Any new developments?"

"There was one last night. Officer Yoo was taken from the coffee shop just around the corner when he came off of his shift last night. Someone dragged him behind a building, knocked him out, and he's been gone since," he let out a tense breath. "Any witnesses, leads... it's like we've got nothing."

"Yoo Jinyoung was taken off duty last night. Shit," you mumble, tightening your grip. Another good officer out of action. Another potential life at risk. Another lead down the drain. "This isn't good."

The both of you exited the elevator as Eric tapped a button, the both of you pushing into a large room where a number of officers and detectives were already pouring through evidence and previous witness statements. Chief Ryu was the head detective leading the charge against the criminal organisations running Seoul, and he has been fighting tirelessly.

Once the elevator doors dinged open, you are welcomed to a few other detectives.

"Are you sure you should be showing up here, Y/N?" Eric muttered worriedly. "Your cover could be blown. That gang, you're working so close with them." He mumbles lowly, just in case. "Doesn't that...scare you at all?"

"I've told you a thousand times, nothing scares me. My job has me facing worse shit everyday," you grumble back just as quietly. "We used to run with these kinds of folks back home, or did you forget already?"

"I'm very much aware but the Brotherhood is a much larger scale compared to what we had back at home, Y/N. Back in LA, you used to hang with a few low-lifes and misfits," he whispers. "With the Brotherhood, they are bigger, they are worse, and the whole organization is deeply rooted in all sorts of shit."

"Still. I didn't scare easily even then and I sure as hell don’t now. Not in the middle of such an important case," you say, settling yourself against a wall as the other officers discuss their findings and cases.

"L/N, Sohn," Chief Ryu, the greying man greets the pair of you, "now that you've arrived, let's proceed. We got word of another attack late last night, and one of the casualties was Officer Yoo."

The other detectives groan, and one older-looking man angrily throws a document folder onto the desk, spilling coffee as the papers float down. A woman quickly snatches some up before they're soaked completely.

"It's going to be near impossible for Detective L/N to infiltrate anymore," another man spoke up. "What if she's next?"

"Do we know who did it?" you asked, ignoring the man's comment, staring directly at the chief.

"All signs point to the BRotherhood," Chief Ryu replies as he shakes his head sadly. His face has grown old and wrinkled since the case had started, and it didn't get better when it took off so many years back. "Mark on his body like the others."

"Sir, shouldn't we pull back L/N? She could be next!" a female officer argues.

"It can't be the Brotherhood," you sighed, crossing your arms and legs as the others looked over the new news. Eric watched you with a wary expression while the chief eyed the document. "Some of the members have a few screws loose, but these guys run their organizations differently from other syndicates. They may be bat shit crazy, but they have a way of handling the business. Park Seonghwa, the underboss, deals with the foot soldiers with a harsh hand if there's a murder that no one approved."

"Sounds like a strong and smart bastard," another man sighs, sitting heavily in his chair.

"What if it's the Brotherhood's resident pyscho? Jung Wooyoung? There are rumours that he's incredibly unhinged," another officer points out.

"Him? Nah," you shook your head. "He's too busy chasing me around to go about killing random people. Plus Kim Hongjoong and Park Seonghwa are always placing us in the same teams since I can control Jung."

A few eyebrows rise. 

"Really now?" the officer responds with a hum.

"The man likes it when I knock him down a few pegs," you shrug. "It's not him or the Brotherhood. If you ask me, this was a frame-up. Something else is going on."

A few more hums were shared.

"Why do you say that?" one of the detectives ask.

"After working with them for a year, I know what the methods are," you told him bluntly. "Not theirs. It doesn't fit their style."

"What would your plan of action be then, detective?" another asks and you see them all look in your direction.

"If we want answers, we need to catch the real killer," you said, and Chief Ryu nodded, clearly listening. "I should return and get back into the scene as quickly as possible before they find out my identity. I'll be sticking close to the higher-ups as well, so I'll have more opportunities."

The conversation went on, with other plans thrown out and shot down, more opinions, more questions. But in the end, Chief Ryu nods and lets a sigh escape him.

"Smart," Chief Ryu interjects. "Watch your back and keep an eye on things. Make sure to find out any sort of connection. Can you do it?"

“Of course, sir,” you say.  

"Be careful, Y/N," Eric implores again quietly as you straighten.

"Thank you," Chief Ryu said, "L/N, remember your training, keep your cover and report your findings immediately. And─"

“Yes?” you ask.

"If you have to land in bed with that Jung Wooyoung, do so, but don't catch feelings and get distracted. Lives depend on you, detective," Chief Ryu ordered as the conference room began to clear.

"Understood, sir," you say back, following the others out. You heard some mutters of gratitude and reassurances as a few men slapped you on the back and others on the shoulders.You called loudly from the doorway before you closed it. "I can't wait for this case to be over, sir!" 

Outside in the cold evening of Seoul, you tug your hoodie closer around your neck and look up into the clouds as you exhale heavily. Now that undercover cops are being killed, things have just gotten so much more dangerous. You had to be careful before shit turned ugly.

"Fuck."

Wooyoung swore that he saw you walk out of the precinct, looking pretty casual in a dark purple hoodie, black jeans, a cap, a pair of thin-rimmed glasses. He blinked and rubbed his eyes a few times. No, it had to be someone that looked like you. There was no way that you'd actually be there as a fucking police detective. No way in fucking hell.

Right?

It couldn't be. He must be hallucinating. All his efforts into chasing and flirting with a fellow rookie mafia member must have exhausted him, and maybe the lack of sex made him crazy, and he was imagining that his little crush and eye candy was an officer for the fucking law and order of South Korea. That sounded ridiculous, even to his ears.

Or were you? He recalled how you handled yourself and the way you used your guns, the way you stared men down, and the way you knocked a guy out with your elbow, the way you're able to leap across obstacles, and those muscles of your—

"Huh. Holy fuck. You're an actual police officer. All this time I've been flirting and hitting on a motherfucking police detective," Wooyoung said to himself. "But damn, just knowing that you're a detective made you ten times hotter. Damn."

He watched as you rounded the corner with your phone pressed against your ear, smiling widely before hanging up and removing your cap with a laugh. From where he was hidden, he could make out your large and beautiful smile as you tossed your hat on the passenger seat of your car before getting inside. Wooyoung swears under his breath when you don't start the engine and instead dig into your hoodie pocket before you lean forward.

Before he knew what he was doing, his feet had him walking into the alley and creeping up to your car. One, you had a nice ass, and two, he could watch from a safe distance without bothering you. And maybe catch some info if he can manage.

He could see you looking at your phone, a tired grin on your lips before leaning your forehead against the wheel. Fishing his phone from his pocket, he dialed your number and watched as you raised an eyebrow when your device rang and you didn't bother to even answer and let it go to voicemail. He watched from his spot as you shimmied out of the hoodie you were wearing and revealed that black tank top, the shape and size of your biceps clearly defined in the lowlight as you wiped your sweaty brow, tossing the sweater onto the backseat before you stretch your arms and flexing your upper muscles.

Wooyoung damn near wet himself when you groaned as you stretched your shoulders. Fuck, just those delicious, strong looking arms were getting him all bothered. Then you began to drag your left palm across your right shoulder blade. You appeared to have rolled it a few times and while Wooyoung wanted to sit back and jack off to the sight of it, his hormones went into overdrive.

"Fuck, detective. You make it hard to just watch you," Wooyoung muttered before making his way to your car and rapping on the window.

You jumped and looked at him, and panic set in before you glared and rolled the window down. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Let me get in. Let's talk. Come on," Wooyoung nodded to the empty seat. "Unless you want me to rat out your little undercover mission."

"Fuck you, and get in the damn car,” you ordered.

"Sweetheart, do that and we'll both enjoy it too much," he smirked as you growled. You unlock the doors and unlock the other door and wait until Wooyoung opens and gets in and closes the car. "Damn, are you for real an undercover police officer? How'd you get this job?"

You pulled away from the curb before answering his question. "How'd you know?"

“Saw you walking out of the station,” Wooyoung said.  

“And what were you doing there, huh?” you ask.  

"I was bailing out one of our guys that got caught at an intersection. Look, that doesn't matter. Why are you undercover for the fucking police force, sweet cheeks?" He asked, relaxing into your seats as you drove to God knows where, probably another safehouse, an apartment or something. Wooyoung watches you breathe heavily, fists white against the steering wheel and the leather creased under your fingertips.

"Tell anyone what I do or say and I'll snap your spine in half, do you understand?" You mutter.

"M'am, yes m'am," Wooyoung responded, unable to look away from your shoulders.

You throw a quick glance at him, groaning. "Why do I get the feeling that I have to bang you to keep you quiet?"

"Because that's exactly how you'll have me not say a word," Wooyoung murmurs back, his pants tightening. Damn, there was a police detective seated right next to him, who had guns and all sorts of police shit stashed, and he was growing really excited. Shit, Wooyoung didn't think you being a cop would be such a huge turn on but he was slowly falling deep.

"Okay listen, if I fuck you, will you promise to not speak a single fucking word?" You ask.

"Baby girl, I'll agree to fucking anything if it meant you putting those sexy guns to use," he growled as you shook your head. "If it makes you feel better, I promise you, no one else is going to find out about your gig as a detective, especially the other high ups in the family."

“What will it cost me?” you ask.  

"Well, baby girl, I'd settle for just one kiss." Wooyoung sucked his lip, placing an arm around your shoulders as he smirks. He grins as you blink back, a red blush across your face. "Nothing more, nothing less. It can be just a small one, and you can do it."

You stare at him, parking the car a couple of blocks away and unbuckling your seatbelt before he does. With a sly look, you raise an eyebrow, "Really? Just one kiss?"

“And I will keep quiet, officer,” Wooyoung said.  

Wooyoung grunts in surprise when you place a hand against his neck, lips meeting his in a quick, firm, solid kiss that left him wanting so much more when you pull away, clear your throat, and adjust his collar. "Just so you can keep your trap shut. Nothing more, you hear?"

He let out a whistle.

"Alright, alright. I can do that. It was worth it," Wooyoung responded with a wider, dopey smile on his lips. Damn, it was true when people said kissing is better than sex sometimes. Shit, he wanted to chase after those plump lips once more. "So how long you been undercover? Since you joined the Brotherhood?"

“Yeah,” you say.

"All the time and no one fucking knew. Wow," Wooyoung said. He turned and got another good look at your muscles when you went to lift the bottle of water off your console. "Why the Brotherhood?"

"Chief's order, but mostly because of the recent drug ring popping up throughout Seoul," you sighed. "Cops are dying left and right."

"So what Siwoo said was true?" Wooyoung asked and you nodded. "Shit. He didn't lie or make it up or anything like that? Is he the one?"

You shook your head. "No, Siwoo is too stupid and uncoordinated to ever manage to do this. He's a mess and he knows that if he tries to play assassin and hit-man, he's going to fail."

“And you don’t think it’s the Brotherhood?” Wooyoung asked.  

"Everyone at the precinct thinks it's you guys but... no," you finally spoke. "Wooyoung, I think the Brotherhood was framed."

"Wait-wha-hold on- wait a second," Wooyoung murmured, making a stop signal with both of his hands. "You're saying that someone else killed the cops and are pinning the deaths on us. Now why the hell would anyone try and kill the fucking officers?"

"Hell if I know, I'm just trying to figure this out before another good person dies," you confessed quietly, rubbing the space between your eyebrows. "Maybe, as much as it pains me to say it, you or your guys can help. Maybe some of your info can be put to use."

Wooyoung stared down at your anxious look. "Let's go see Hongjoong, then."

"So... You're a detective?" Hongjoong stated, perking his eyebrows up. You rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly.

"Afraid so," you responded quietly. "You can do whatever you want with me after you hear me out."

"Relax," Hongjoong leaned over the desk, eyes sharp on you. "I knew you were an officer from day one, Detective L/N."

You blinked. "Wait, what?"

"I kept this quiet. As a sort of protection," the man's arms were crossed and his eyes scanned you. "I want that fucker who's killing cops and pinning their deaths on my family."

"Oh my God," you whispered, blinking a couple of times. He had known, and no one else did. Damn, no wonder Hongjoong was considered one of the most powerful men in the underworld. The man was brilliant and always several steps ahead.

"I'm sure everyone in the SPD thinks we're all scum but the Brotherhood are not cop killers. That's against our code. Even if we run drugs, weapons trafficking, extortion, counterfeits... murdering a cop goes too far for us," Hongjoong continues.

“Then who do you think it is?” you ask.  

"The Butterfly Syndicate," Seonghwa replied, sitting down. "It has been an ongoing feud. Their Boss, the Black Butterfly, hates us."

“You...know this?” you ask.  

“Byeol has been working on this operation with Yunho and Jongho,” Seonghwa replied. “She has all the insider intel as she was a former Butterfly.”  

You turned to Wooyoung, his expression dark before nodding at you. "What are your plans then?"

"Get enough dirt on the Black Butterfly and her gang so I can put her into prison where she fucking belongs," Hongjoong responded. "If the Brotherhood works with the SPD to take her out, it'll look less suspect and will strengthen my ties with the police and will make sure things will go smoothly in the future."

“Sounds like you have everything planned out. I can make it happen. So, when should we start the ball rolling?” you ask.  

"I'll be making a trip to the precinct to see your chief to discuss this arrangement. Good?" Hongjoong asked.

"Good," you nodded. "I'll phone the precinct and let them know to expect you."

After your meeting with Hongjoong, you were driving back home with Wooyoung tagging along. You stopped the car in an abandoned area outside the city limits, the sound of rushing water from a distant river could be heard as the trees creaked from the gusts of wind blowing by. Unbuckling your seatbelt, you stared hard at your steering wheel while Wooyoung just relaxed into the chair further.

"Something on your mind, detective?" Wooyoung asks after a beat of silence.

You cast a weary eye his way, lips pressed thin. The hand around the wheel loosened before it came to rest on your lap. The light of the moon reflects in your eyes as you casted them towards the man beside you. He noticed the tightness of your jaw. He was no expert, but judging from what he could gather from you, he understood what kind of weight was resting on those shoulders.

Wooyoung lifted a hand and held yours, a thumb running over your knuckles in soft caresses, the heat searing your skin. Your fingers twitched at the sudden feeling and a blush appeared.

"Things must be rough for you, right?" he asked, tone gentle, eyes no longer carrying a hint of teasing. "Everything's riding on you being successful at this. Like if you make one wrong move, it could mean life and death, right?"

"Yeah, kinda," you answer honestly and let him hold your hand and trace the veins and outlines of the joints.

"There has to be something that I can help you with. Maybe loosen those tight shoulders a bit, huh? Help relieve some stress. Worry. Any of it. You're practically running the marathon of undercover detective life and now the weight of stopping a syndicate from getting away with mass murdering cops..." Wooyoung noted before nodding and glancing out of his passenger side window and the desolate trees. "No one is around, it's the middle of the night. Ain't nothing happening. Just let me give you some of me. I ain't going nowhere, detective."

A thoughtful hum was your answer and you couldn't quite form words as his strong grip ran circles over your palm. "Kiss me, Detective. Come on. Let it out. Your nerves, frustration. It'll relax you. Come on, I'll even beg for it."

Without another word, he began planting slow kisses along your palms, his breath hot against your flesh. His teeth grazed a finger and goosebumps rippled through your spine when he darted his tongue against it. A flick here, a swirl there. His dark brown, nearly black eyes glimmered brightly under the soft lights in your car as a wicked smile crossed his face when you moaned as he nipped another digit.

"Beg me," you breathed, your pulse quickening. "Beg for me, Wooyoung. You want me?"

"Yes," he hummed. "Yes, ma'am."

"Get naked and get in the backseat,” you ordered.

"With pleasure, beautiful," Wooyoung breathed huskily, excited for what you were willing to offer to him. He slid the door open and clambered onto the back as he tugged his shirt overhead, pulling his belt from the loops, making sure the metal clanked and clinked loudly before he was throwing his pants aside.

You crawl back, eyes sweeping across his body, taking in the tattoo on his left ribcage, the many piercings and the muscle definition. Not too much and not too little. Damn this punk looked good. "Ever had sex in the back of a police car?"

"No. Though this is certainly new and different," he murmured, watching as you slip off the tank, no bra and you kick off your jeans before straddling his hips. He inhales deeply when he cups your face and places a long and deep kiss on your mouth. Your skin, God, the way your skin felt under his touch was too erotic and you returned his kiss eagerly. "And I sure am liking the surprises, doll."

Your teeth click as you pull away for a moment to let out a shaky breath. Wooyoung grinned against your neck as his hands snake down to your hips and gently rocks you against him, the damp cloth of your underwear pressing hard against his growing erection. His clothed cock presses against your soaked core and the damp cloth between your legs only rubs more intensely on your nub the more he moves his hips.

His lips on your neck, chest, shoulders, leaving hard and sucking kisses had you melting into the body behind you. One hand cupped a breast, and Wooyoung relished the feel of his chest on your warm and sweaty back. So soft, the weight in his palms is absolutely addicting.

You ran your hands through the jet black locks and tilted his head as your mouths joined and swallowed each other's groans and moans. Your teeth snagged at his piercing, earning you a muffled yelp from the man.

"You trying to bite it off?" He murmured, lips swollen and glossy as your finger traced his ears, over the diamond earring.

"Maybe," you husked.

"Are you actually a secret kinky police detective?" He smirked when you answered his grin with a challenging raise of your brow. "Bet you have all sorts of fetishes that aren't written in any sort of textbook."

"Think you can figure me out, bad boy?" You quipped as you gently pinch his nipples, pulling hard. 

His whine was long and pitiful, his forehead resting on your shoulder, head slightly bowed as the rest of his body shuddered under your rough touches. "Ah fuck~ baby~"

"Yeah, you're going to be in trouble with me Jung," you warned quietly, "now tell me," you roll your hips down into his clothed cock once more, "will you be a good boy and be quiet for me?"

"Fuck...yes...I can. I can be good for you, detective,” he moans.

"Then shut your mouth and take my panties off already," you say back as Wooyoung's fingers hook into the edge of the flimsy material and drag them down over your smooth and supple thighs. You toss them aside as he pushes his boxers off his hips and kicks it away. 

Wooyoung felt all the blood rush south when your warm hands wrapped around him, pumping his cock in agonizingly slow strokes. He gulps a large mouthful of air as he watches the way your thumb catches his pearly beads of pre-cum every time it brushes across the slit. "Do what you want, doll. Whatever you want."

Your palms run along the length of his chest, feeling the sweat gathered around the curves of his pecs before leaning down to catch his lips, your tongues brushing before Wooyoung moans again into your mouth. The temperature rising inside the vehicle and the fog gathering along the windows didn't bother the two of you one bit as you sank onto his throbbing dick. He choked on his words and whimpered out another moan of relief, his hips stuttering upwards before you pressed down with your hips to keep him from bucking his way up your ass. 

"Behave," you hiss low and raspy in his ear, swiping a tongue out to tease the jewelry on his earlobes. His chest is heaving rapidly as you start moving, his hands gripping your waist. "You said you'd be good for me. Do I need to cuff you?"

"Fucking yes," he almost moaned. "God, yeah, I'll behave."

"Maybe next time," you murmur, focusing on the feel of his hands on you as you bounce slowly at first on his dick. Each slide brings new zaps of pleasure coursing down your veins as you drag him against the walls of your tight pussy. A moan echoed throughout the small space as the car rocked from your movements and your sweaty chests rubbed together in delicious friction. You ran a hand up his chest, to the back of his neck before fisting his hair and tugged hard, earning you a rather needy and pained whine.

"Jung, do you like your hair pulled?" You asked, eyes darkened and he nodded his head feverishly.

"Love having my hair pulled by hot women like you," he grunts, digging his fingers deep into the flesh of your ass, hard enough that you knew there would be marks.

"Good," your other hand fists his locks before using the leverage to sink his face into your tits, letting his mouth take one nipple between his teeth as he groans. "That's good, you're so fucking good. Keep doing that, yes. Yes!" You cry out when the sharp tips of his teeth pinch a swollen bud.

You panted and sucked in deep gulps of air, trying desperately to not drown in the onslaught of pleasurable emotions running throughout your bloodstream. He alternates between your breasts, giving your left nipple a squeeze before switching over to your other breast and giving it the same treatment.

The wet noises coming from his lapping tongue was music to your ears as the slapping of hips meeting joined it. Your knees ached from the plastic leather of your back seat and you wanted more.

"What's wrong, baby?" You cooed, rolling your hips deeply, hitting just the right spot to make him buck, eyes rolled up as he stares dazedly up at the ceiling of the car. "Use that pretty voice of yours, handsome."

"Fuck baby," he slurs. His brain is fried and he's never had his control stolen so expertly from him. This woman was a demon or an angel sent straight from the heavens. Or maybe hell.

"You never had a girl dominate you before, have you, Jung?" you tease, licking his ear as his body shuddered. His strong arms were on your hips, clutching the soft flesh and you watched how his tattoos flowed with his every movement. Those thighs are seriously chiseled perfection, you thought. "Not so used to having someone else taking the lead, are we?"

"No-ugh," he cut off when he saw you raise your eyebrows and pin his chest to the backseat. "Fuck, okay, yes I'm not usually a bottom!" He admitted and his eyes widened when you clamped a hand over his mouth, looking utterly murderous as he looked up at you. "Fuck. Okay. I'll behave." He mumbled through the muffling palm.

"Much better," you snicker, your hands releasing him as your mouth claimed his own once more. "You like this though, don't you? Like having my pussy wrapped around you?"

“Yes,” Wooyoung said.  

"Having a lady calling all the shots and telling you what to do?" You run a finger over his slick and parted lips.

"Hell yes," he whines as your lips trail his jaw.

"Who do you belong to then?" You asked, stopping just a second before re-focusing on those sexy lips as your own form a smirk.

"You, detective, all you! Just you," Wooyoung rasped, eyes hazy and dazed.

"Such a naughty, naughty boy~" you sighed sweetly, pushing a few sweaty strands from his forehead, revealing his brows, "letting an officer of the law have her way with you like this...some gangster you are, baby~"

Wooyoung bucks wildly when you pick your speed. Harder and faster now, and God, did this man ever look absolutely pretty in the throes of pure and utter lust. He looks fucking magnificent like that. Under you and aching for your mercy.

The both of you managed to somehow switch positions after some struggling and you now lie on the backseat, pressed tightly against the leather seat cushions, legs wrapped firmly around the broad torso of a man on a mission to fuck you. The loud and filthy noise of wet skin slapping and the squelch of your pussy against his girth echoed throughout the space and you found yourself unable to keep the noises of ecstasy quiet.

He huffed above you as his pace never slowed, not for even a single moment. His skin had a glistening sheen and you moaned long and hard, reaching and touching his toned muscles, tracing them lovingly as you lick your dry lips. Wooyoung manages to grin against the crook of your neck, lips seeking a patch of untouched skin before he sinks his teeth into your shoulder, sucking, bruising and you grip his hair, keeping him close, his moaning whine and your grunts echoing within the four corners of the vehicle.

"Such a good boy," you praised, arching your back so he can slam his dick harder and faster into you, each thrust sending waves of pleasure rocking your brain. "C'mon. Be a good little fucker and fill me with all you've got, yeah?" 

You tsk when he growled deeply, eyes glinting dangerously as he listened, leaning closer, lips pressing yours hungrily, desperately, breathily, moans and pants the only things you can hear beside your pounding heart.

His hand caresses and strokes your clit while the other grips your hip to steady himself. He fucked you hard and fast, ignoring how the windows were steaming up, the two of you sweating and writhing on top of the plastic seat. Your nails dug and clawed down Wooyoung's muscular shoulders, leaving red stripes, his tattoo, slick with your perspiration, his beautiful black hair ruffled and his pupils dilated as you leaned forward and whispered into his ear. "Gotta cum sometime, don't you, big boy?"

You run your hand through his strands and cup the back of his head to hold him against your heaving chest. You rock in tandem with him, lifting a hand up and wrapping it loosely against his neck. You don't squeeze, just feel him. He huffs, breath warm against your cheek as he shakes his head when your tongue flicks his ear again.

Sweat drips down his torso and pooled just above your belly button. His abs, his pecs and his veins bulge. A blush spreads over him as he grunts and huffs out moans.

"Such a nice big, fat cock..." you mewled in his ear, turning the dial of pleasure all the way up as his grip on your waist tightens even more.

"God, woman," he chuckles darkly. His whole body was shaking as if the very foundations of this universe were cracking and he was losing all control over it. "Ah-ah-oh fuuuck."

"You're a bad influence," you sigh breathily in his ear.

"What? Fucking in a car?" he asks.

"Yeah, makes me feel so damn bad," you replied.

"Well...I never got this much out of any woman..." he breathed against your collarbone before licking a stripe. "Nor do I get ordered around like this."

"And you fucking love it," you snickered, arching into him, allowing him to plow further into your dripping, sloppy wet cunt. Your clit, your lips, they all welcomed him, throbbed around him. You groaned, hand traveling to grip at his hips. "Come on, Wooyoung, ride my fucking cunt until you fucking fill me up. If you cum, maybe I'll take you home and give you some more, handsome. Wouldn't you love to stay at my place and fuck me all night long?"

"Oh fucking fuck baby. I'm going to cum," he growls as your pussy begins to twitch. "Holy fucking shit... I-I-can't-"

"Do it, baby. Fucking come inside me,” you moaned.

The sound he makes when his orgasm hits him is feral and primal. Animalistic, that was the only word you could find to describe his noises and grunts. Hot spurts of his semen shoot inside, his cock keeps throbbing and throbbing, and he loses his control. Wooyoung, usually the wild, horny and somewhat unhinged person he always was, was always a top. It had always been that way. But with you, an undercover police detective, Wooyoung wanted to submit and lay his neck under the sole of your pretty feet.

Wooyoung lewdly bites his lip, hips slapping and pushing the hot and thick load of semen deeper and deeper as you arch your back. God, what did he fucking do to have someone that looked that good in his grip. He rides out his orgasm with you writhing in ecstasy, eyes fluttering closed as your own fluids paint his dick, both your bodies shine. The air smelt like sex and the car reeked of a good fucking.

"Good boy," you whisper when he finally pulls out, the semen dripping down onto his and your inner thighs.

"Thank you..." he huffs.

"Get cleaned up and then we're driving to my apartment," you say as you got to your clothes and he nodded weakly.

Wooyoung wasn't quite sure if that was a command or an invitation but if he could see you writhing more for him, he'd be willing to jump into whatever pit the two of you could possibly descend into. He grins at the thought and hummed merrily as he dressed and straightened his clothes.

Your phone rings and you leaned over the edge of the bed, answering it as Wooyoung groaned beside you, stretching out over the sheets. The sun was out, warm and bright and it cast a light sheen on his bare upper body, sweat shimmering and the reflection bounced off his earrings, catching your eye.

"L/N," came your chief's voice.

“Yeah?” you grunt.

"If you are in bed like Mister Kim has told me," he grunted, "then please inform Jung Wooyoung that he's apparently been assigned to stay at your apartment starting tomorrow."

"Sir? Why? I mean," you quickly swallowed to regain some sense of sanity, "why is he being assigned?"

"Mister Kim apparently gave him the order. Jung will help in investigating our case and since the Syndicate is watching your every move, having him show his face around you might throw the enemies off a bit." Chief Ryu says.

"Yeah. Yeah that...that could be true," you murmur as you lean into the pillow, licking your lips. "Of course, sir."

"Take the day off. Mr Kim and I will be discussing further details. Get back into the office tomorrow for debriefing," he sighed before hanging up and you set the phone on the nightstand.

"What's up?" Wooyoung asked, groggily rubbing his eyes. He has pillow creases marking his cheeks and you smiled, scooting over and run a hand down his side, feeling the supple muscle and warm skin.

"Well," you begin and run a thumb over his nipple. He arched up into the touch, sucking in a deep breath as he looked over at you. "Looks like you're living with me from here on out. Hongjoong apparently assigned you to watch my back and investigate this whole thing with me."

"Hmm," he smirked devilishly before letting your fingers glide across his body before grabbing a hold and flipping you over to hover over you. "Suppose I oughta pay him a visit and say thank you, hmm?"

"Wooyoung," you groan.

“Yeah, doll?” Wooyoung asked.

"Stop talking," you muttered before pulling his mouth down into yours.

"Gladly," he sighed against you lips. He was most definitely willing to listen and follow your orders for a time being. 

For now.

[jianwon]

the weight of unspoken words

synopsis. y/n grew up enduring se-mi’s relentless teasing, unaware it hid deeper feelings. years later, they reunite and old emotions resurface. when jealousy forces a confession, their relationship changes forever. well... if they’re brave enough to face it.

content— fem!reader. modern au. enemies to lovers trope. minimal angst. happy ending. pinning. high school to college time skip.

a/n— this is my first story with se-mi! my constant yearning for her is what made this story possible. we miss you se-mi..

wordcount. 2.7k

you and se-mi had been rivals since junior high school. you didn’t know what exactly drew her to you, but it seemed like from the moment you crossed paths, she made it her mission to make your life as difficult as possible.

every single day, se-mi would find ways to get under your skin, whether it was mocking your attempts at sports, laughing at your grades, or finding subtle ways to point out your flaws. she had this knack for making everything seem like a competition.

“y/n, i’m surprised you actually remembered to show up for this” she’d say during history class, smirking over her shoulder at you. “don’t worry, i’ll make sure your part isn’t too hard for you to handle.”

you didn't like the way she treated you, how she never gave you a moment’s peace. but no matter how much you tried to ignore her, it seemed like se-mi thrived on getting under your skin.

on the other hand, se-mi couldn’t help it. the way her eyes lingered when she thought no one would notice. when she managed to catch you off guard, she would soften up. not exactly kind, but… gentler somehow. it was subtle, but se-mi could feel it, that flicker of something in her chest that didn’t quite align with the playful barbs she threw your way.

sophomore year only made things worse, or maybe.. it just evolved. se-mi was still the same, confident and naturally drawing all eyes to her (mostly girls). she had a way of effortlessly fitting in, always surrounded by people. and you? you stayed quieter, content to be a background presence in most cases.

it didn’t take long before you realized that se-mi’s teasing had only gone worse. every day seemed like a competition to prove you weren’t good enough, whether it was class discussions or school events. and if you tried to say something, she’d always have something to say.

“oh, y/n’s got a bold idea” she’d say one time, leaning in with that familiar smirk. “i think you might want to rethink that.”

you clenched your fists at your desk, gritting your teeth. “why do you care what i say anyway?”

se-mi chuckled. “i don’t care. but you’re fun to mess with.”

and you knew better than to get too involved with her, too close. she was a headache, someone you tried to avoid whenever possible. but sometimes, you couldn’t help but notice those moments, when she wasn’t mocking you, it felt… subtle.

one day, after school, she approached you in the hallway when you were packing up your things.

“hey..” she said, almost casually. “you missed the group study session yesterday, didn’t you?”

you blinked, surprised by her tone, genuine concern, not teasing. “yeah. i had to go home early.” se-mi tilted her head slightly, stepping a little closer. “..you okay?”

you frowned, unsure how to respond. “i’m fine.”

there was an awkward silence between you both, and for once, se-mi didn’t follow up with a snide remark. she just stood there, watching you quietly as you leave.

it was during the senior year when everything started to change, though. the little moments between you both seemed to hold more weight, like they were bubbling beneath the surface, too close to ignore.

the school was buzzing with news of the upcoming senior year dance, and of course, se-mi had already made plans, which involves you.

you tried to avoid her whenever possible, keeping your head down, focusing on your classes. but then, she came up to you, her tone a little different than usual, although less teasing, more genuine.

“you’re not thinking of skipping the dance, are you?” she asked, leaning casually against your locker. you frowned. “why does it matter to you?”

“i just… thought it’d be fun if you came,” she said, tilting her head. “i mean, it’s the last big event of high school.”

you scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “you really care about that?”

se-mi shrugged, but there was a slight edge to her smile. “maybe i do. it’d be nice if you showed up for once.” you were quiet for a moment, unsure of what to say.

“why do you care if i'd come or not?” you asked again, more softly this time.

se-mi’s smile faltered for a split second. “look… it’s the last time we’ll all be together. don’t you want to have fun for once?”

you looked at her. really looked at her, and it was like she wasn’t the same person you’d always known. there was something different, something behind her words that felt too real to ignore. but you weren’t sure if you could trust it.

by the time you graduated high school, you had finally escaped se-mi’s relentless teasing.

college reshaped you in unexpected ways. at first, you struggled, but soon found your rhythm. discovering passions, building confidence, and redefining yourself. you felt like a different person.

the timid girl faded away, replaced by someone who stood tall and self-assured.

a few years have passed, and the high school reunion was finally here. you weren’t particularly excited about it, part of you dreaded seeing old faces, reconnecting with people you hadn’t thought about in years.

your old friend group had convinced you to come, promising that it would be fun, and before you knew it, you were standing in the familiar gymnasium where so many high school memories had been made.

the place was transformed. lights strung up, decorations that brought back memories of dances past. as soon as you walked in, you were hit with a flood of nostalgia. old friends were everywhere, laughing, sharing stories, catching up.

but what caught your attention immediately was someone you hadn’t seen in years.

se-mi.

she was standing off to the side, laughing with a group of familiar faces from high school. and as soon as she saw you, her expression shifted. a flicker of surprise crossed her face, quickly replaced by a smile, a real one this time.

“i didn’t think you’d actually show,” she said, walking toward you.

you blinked, surprised to see her here. “yeah… i thought i’d give it a shot.” se-mi’s eyes lingered on you, and for a moment, you both just stared at each other.

“you’ve… changed,” she said softly, her gaze trailing over you.

you tilted your head. “i could say the same about you.”

she had changed so much physically. if anything, she seemed even more confident now. her hair was much shorter, styled with effortless ease but still perfectly suited her, and those unfamiliar piercings on her nose and bottom lip gave her a striking edge that oddly made you feel tingly inside. and yet, beneath it all, those same mischievous eyes still held the same familiar glint you remembered. teasing, captivating, and unmistakably her.

“so, how’s life been treating you?” she asked, her voice casual, though you could sense a shift in her tone. “good,” you answered cautiously. “you?”

“same old,” she said, laughing. “busy with stuff, you know.”

you were about to say something else when a few other friends from high school joined you, and the conversation shifted. but even as the night wore on, you couldn’t shake the feeling. se-mi was still watching you.

a few hours into the reunion, you were engaged in conversation with a group of old friends, laughing and reminiscing about the past. the evening felt warmer, easier than you had expected. but then, something caught your attention.

you didn’t notice it at first. too caught up in your own world. but then your eyes moved, and you saw her. se-mi, standing at the beverage corner, her posture tense, her eyes fixed on you.

and next to you, one of your classmates, a familiar face from high school, was leaning in, laughing a little too close to you, his hand lightly resting on your arm.

it shouldn’t have been anything. just friendly. but when you looked back at se-mi, you saw it. something dark flashing across her face. her face faltered, her eyes narrowing slightly.

you didn’t understand why, but it felt strange.. unsettling, like something had shifted. you swallowed hard, unsure what to do.

a little while later, se-mi was still alone, spacing out while sipping on her drink, and you found yourself making your way over cautiously. her expression was guarded, tension radiating off her.

“hey,” you said softly, a bit unsure whether it was a good idea. she looked up at you, surprised but wary. “o-oh. hey.”

you sat next to her, your brows slightly furrowed. “you looked… bothered earlier. everything alright?” she sighed, swirling the drink in her glass. “just… seeing you here after so long. it’s strange.” you frowned, puzzled. “yeah… it is.”

another silence fell between you both, but this time, it felt different, heavy. you glanced back across the room, back to your friend still laughing with others, his gaze briefly flicking in your direction.

and that’s when se-mi saw it too.

her eyes followed yours, and she stiffened.

“what is he to you?” she asked, her voice low, guarded, and for the first time, something unfiltered slipped into her tone, jealousy.

you blinked, caught off guard. “a friend… why?" she turned toward you fully, a smirk playing on her lips—but it didn't seem playful. “friend? really?”

you raised an eyebrow. “yeah, why does it matter?”

“i just… i don’t like the way he’s looking at you,” se-mi said, a hint of anger in her voice now. you frowned. “what does it matter to you?”

se-mi sighed, shaking her head. “forget it.”

but you couldn’t. because you knew, there was something there, something real. the way she had reacted wasn’t normal. it wasn’t just annoyance. it was jealousy.

later that night, after the reunion had wound down, you found yourself outside of the gymnasium. you couldn’t shake the way se-mi had looked at you earlier, how she had seemed… possessive.

and then, you saw her. se-mi, walking outside alone. her eyes found yours immediately, and she hesitated for a moment before coming over. “mind if i join you?” she asked softly.

you shrugged, trying to keep your voice neutral. “sure."

she sat down across from you, her posture stiff at first. then, she let out a long breath, playing with the rim of her glass. “i need to… talk to you.”

you frowned. “talk?”

“yes.” she looked up at you, her expression serious. “earlier, when i saw you with that guy… it didn’t sit right with me.”

you blinked, caught off guard. “again, why does it matter to you?” she sighed, shaking her head. “i-i don’t know. i shouldn’t care.”

but you saw it. there was more behind her words. and when you looked closer, you could see it, something raw, something honest.

“what’s going on, se-mi?” you asked quietly.

she hesitated, fiddling with her her lip piercing, before finally speaking. “this may be sudden but i can't keep hiding any longer. y/n.. i-i liked you. i’ve liked you for years."

your eyes widened in shock. “what?”

“i’ve liked you,” she repeated, her voice soft, barely audible. “ever since we were in junior year. but i didn’t know how to tell you… and i didn’t want to ruin things between us.”

you sat there, stunned. you couldn’t process it, this was the same se-mi who had always been a thorn in your side, the one who made your life more difficult. and now she was telling you… this?

“and i was scared,” she continued, her voice filled with sincerity. “scared that if you knew, it would make everything worse. scared you’d hate me for how i teased you all these years.”

you swallowed, still trying to absorb her words. “you liked me? for that long?”

se-mi nodded. “yes, and i still do. after graduation, i couldn’t figure out which college you went to, and your friends wouldn’t even share your social media with me, knowing how bad i treated you. i couldn’t get in touch with you.. not a single update, nothing. it drove me crazy. you make me crazy."

and for a moment, everything felt still, like the world had stopped turning.

“you…” you whispered, heart racing, unable to believe what you were hearing.

“i know i messed up,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “but i just couldn’t keep pretending i didn’t feel this way. honestly, i was planning to confess to you during the senior year dance, but turns out you didn’t show up. i guess persuading you didn’t work. i was so scared i had missed my chance."

you looked at her, really looked at her. and suddenly, everything began to make sense. the teasing wasn’t just meant to push you away. it was her own way of showing affection, even if it was twisted in its delivery. she wasn’t mocking you, she had been scared to show how she truly feels.

and maybe… maybe you had felt something too.

se-mi reached out, tentatively taking your hand. “i know this might be too much, too soon… but i don’t want to let you go again without telling you how i feel.”

you stared at her hand, then slowly, you placed your own hand over hers. “se-mi… i’ve always wondered about you. wondered what it would be like if things were different.”

her eyes softened, hope blooming in her gaze. “so… you don’t hate me?”

“i never did,” you admitted quietly. “i just didn’t know how to process it.”

se-mi gave you a small, hopeful smile. “maybe… we can start again.”

and as you sat outside, with her hand in yours, you realized that perhaps, just perhaps.. you were ready to give her a chance. to rewrite what had been so difficult between you both for so long.

and maybe, just maybe, you’d found something in her that you hadn’t been able to shake all these years.

a/n— i hope you enjoyed reading as much as i enjoyed writing this! if you have any suggestions, or any scenarios that you'd like to read from me, feel free to send me requests in the ask box! i'd love to write more stories for se-mi :D

[mononijikayu]

devotion — geto suguru.

“I thought if I gave my life to God, he would spare yours.” You stared at him, stunned, as his words sank in. “Suguru… I don’t understand.” He looked down, his hands trembling. “Years ago, when we… when we lost touch, I heard about your illness.” he explained, his voice heavy with emotion. “I was told you might not survive. I felt helpless, powerless to do anything. So, I prayed. I prayed with everything I had, and I promised God that if he saved you, I would give my life in return. I would serve him, devote myself to his cause. And you… you recovered.”

GENRE: alternate universe - modern au!;

WARNING/S: angst, fluff, forbidden romance, love, hurt/comfort, nsfw, r-18, smut, kissing, rough sex, p-i-v sex, falling in love again, sexual intercourse, pining, hurt, religious guilt, happy ending, aged up characters (suguru and reader are in their 40s), first loves rekindling their relationship, depictions of sexual acts, depiction of pining, depiction of religious aspects, mention of parting, mention of the past, mention of previous husband, father! suguru, widowed! reader;

WORD COUNT: 12k words

NOTE: i was thinking whether or not this is what i should publish for kinktober but i feel like since i've been going on this trend of giving my stories a happy ending, i feel like this is one of them that deserves it, i feel. this is the sequel of 'to build a home'!!! anyway, i hope you enjoy it as much as i did!!! and love wins all, even time!!! i love you all <3

masterlist

kinktober 2024 - kayu's version

if you want to, tip!

══════════════════

YOU NEVER THOUGHT YOU’D SEE HIM AGAIN. But you were getting too ahead of destiny. It has been nearly twenty years since you last saw Geto Suguru. Time had blurred the details of his face in your memory — the precise shape of his smile, the warmth in his eyes when he spoke your name.

You thought you’d forgotten him, buried him under the weight of all those years. But there he was, standing at the front of the room, his voice steady and serene as he read the eulogy for your husband. 

You tried to focus on the words, tried to let them seep into your soul and cradle your grief. But all you could see was him. The lines on his face had deepened, a touch of gray in his hair, but he was still so achingly familiar. You could feel the stirrings of something old and hidden, something you thought you’d buried long ago.

You felt guilty. This was the day you were supposed to mourn your husband, to remember all the good moments you had shared. But as you sat there, dressed in black, your gaze kept drifting back to Suguru. How strange it was to see him like this — a priest, of all things. You wondered what had led him down this path, what had happened in those years you hadn’t been a part of his life.

His voice was calm and soothing, and it reminded you of the way he used to speak when you were alone together. You found yourself holding your breath, the memories coming back like an unexpected wave. The nights you spent talking until dawn, the feel of his hand in yours, the way he’d look at you like you were the only person in the world. You closed your eyes, trying to push the thoughts away, but they clung to you like a desperate whisper.

You were grieving, yes, but somehow those old feelings resurface, like they had been waiting all this time, just beneath the surface. It was wrong, you knew it, but there was something in the way Suguru spoke, in the way his eyes lingered on you for just a moment too long, that made it feel like maybe, just maybe, this was meant to be. 

And as the service drew to a close, you wondered if he felt it too.

As the ceremony ended, the quiet murmur of condolences filled the room, but you barely heard them. Your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of sorrow and anticipation you couldn't quite understand. People passed by, offering their sympathy, their touches gentle on your arm, but your eyes were on him. Suguru stood at the front, still dressed in his somber robes, speaking with a few guests, his expression kind and composed, but you saw the moment he noticed you watching.

He paused, his words faltering for just a second, and then his gaze found yours. For a heartbeat, the world seemed to fall away, and there was only the two of you, standing on opposite sides of a great chasm of time. You felt rooted in place, as if moving would shatter whatever fragile connection had formed between you across the room.

When you finally mustered the courage to approach him, your steps were slow and tentative. He turned to face you fully, his hands clasped in front of him, and for a moment, you were struck by how different he looked, and yet, how much the same. The years had softened his edges, but his eyes — those deep, searching eyes — were just as intense, just as familiar.

“Suguru,” you breathed, unsure what else to say. His name felt foreign on your lips after so long, but also strangely comforting. He gave a small, sad smile, the kind that spoke of understanding beyond words.

“It’s been a long time,” he replied, his voice a quiet murmur, almost swallowed by the room’s low hum. There was a gravity to his tone that made your chest tighten, as if he was trying to convey all the things that had gone unsaid in the years between you.

You nodded, feeling the sting of tears you had not expected. “I never thought I’d see you like this,” you confessed, your voice trembling. “I didn’t know you… became our little town’s priest.”

He chuckled softly, a sound that was both strange and familiar, and something in it warmed you. “Life has a way of leading us to unexpected places,” he said, his eyes searching yours. “I didn’t expect to see you here either… under these circumstances.”

You flinched, a fresh wave of grief washing over you. “No, I suppose not,” you whispered. “But it is good to see you, even now. Even… like this.”

He nodded, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence between you was heavy, but not uncomfortable. It was filled with all the things you wanted to say but didn’t know how. You could feel the years stretching between you like a bridge you were both afraid to cross.

“You look…” he started, then faltered, his gaze sweeping over your face. “You look just as I remember, even after all these years.”

You laughed softly, a sound tinged with both sorrow and disbelief. “I doubt that,” you replied, shaking your head. “It’s been a long time. We’ve both changed.”

“Yes,” he agreed, his voice soft. “But some things don’t change. Some things stay with you, no matter how much time passes.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat. Was he talking about you? About whatever you once had? You wanted to ask, but the words stuck in your throat, caught between your grief and the unexpected flood of emotions his presence had stirred.

Instead, you simply stood there, feeling the weight of his gaze on you, feeling that old, familiar ache that you hadn’t realized you’d been carrying all these years. And when he reached out, his hand hovering just above yours, you found yourself closing the distance, your fingers brushing against his in a touch that felt like both a question and an answer.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” he said, his voice low, filled with a sincerity that sent a shiver down your spine. “I truly am.”

“Thank you.” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. You didn’t know if you were thanking him for the words, or for being here, or for just being him.

You cleared your throat, a delicate sound breaking the tension between you. Your heart still aches from the loss, but there was a strange comfort in his presence, a familiarity that felt almost like a balm. You glanced to your side, where your daughter stood, her small hand gripping yours tightly. She looked up at you, her young face a mix of confusion and sorrow, her eyes still red from crying.

For a moment, neither of you moved, standing there like two ghosts caught in the past. But in his eyes, you saw something flicker — a spark of recognition, of something that had never really gone away. And as the room began to empty, you knew this was not the end. Not quite. Not yet.

“This is my daughter, father.” you said softly, turning to Suguru. “Say hello, sweetheart.”

Your daughter hesitated for a moment, still clinging to you, but eventually she offered a shy smile. “Hello.” she whispered, her voice small and uncertain.

Suguru’s expression softened as he crouched down to her level, his eyes gentle. “Hello there, child.” He greeted me warmly, his tone light. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Father Suguru.”

She stared at him for a moment, as if trying to decide what to make of this stranger who seemed to know her mother so well. But Suguru had always been good with children, you remembered. There was a kindness in his demeanor that drew them in. After a moment, she nodded, accepting his presence with the solemnity only a child could muster at such a moment.

“You’ve grown up so much.” Suguru said, his gaze shifting back to you, and there was something tender in the way he looked at you, a flicker of an old memory shared between you.

Before you could respond, two young girls approached from behind him, their eyes wide with curiosity. They looked almost identical, with long dark hair and matching dresses, and they stood close together, their hands clasped as if seeking comfort from one another. You noticed the way they watched Suguru, their eyes full of trust and affection.

“These are my girls.” Suguru said, smiling gently. “Mimiko and Nanako. I adopted them some years ago. They were… lost, in a way, and I thought I could offer them something of a home.”

You felt a pang of recognition in your chest, understanding without needing to ask. He had always had a soft spot for the vulnerable, a quiet compassion that was buried beneath his strength. The girls looked up at you, curious and shy, and you gave them a gentle smile.

“Hello, Mimiko. Hello, Nanako.” you said softly. “It’s very nice to meet you both.”

They glanced at each other, and then Mimiko, the braver of the two, stepped forward. “Are you our father’s friend?” she asked, her voice small but direct. There was something almost protective in the way she looked at you, as if she was gauging whether you were worthy of her father’s trust.

You hesitated, unsure how to answer. A friend? Were you even that anymore? You wanted to say something else in the back of your mind. You were more than friends, you were lovers. You were everything to each other. Yet you couldn’t. Your lips would not move. But before you could find the right words, Suguru chuckled softly, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine.

“We used to be….close. We met each other a long time ago,” he answered for you, his gaze never leaving yours. “But we finally met again today, it would seem.”

Nanako, still holding Mimiko’s hand, tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. “Why did you stop?” she asked innocently.

You felt your breath hitch in your throat, a thousand unspoken answers rising to your lips. How could you explain? How could you sum up all the lost years, the paths that had diverged, the choices that had led you here, to this moment? 

Suguru turned to his daughters, his smile soft but tinged with a hint of sadness. “Sometimes life takes us in different directions, my dear.” he said gently. “But it doesn’t mean we stop caring about the people we once knew.”

Mimiko seemed satisfied with this answer, but Nanako continued to watch you, as if trying to see into your soul. You could feel the weight of her gaze, but there was no malice in it, only a child’s unfiltered curiosity.

“I’m sorry…..” you said, addressing Suguru again, though your eyes flicked briefly to the girls. “For all the years we lost. I… I didn’t mean for it to be that way.”

He shook his head, a soft smile touching his lips. “Don’t apologize to me about it.” he replied. “We did what we had to do, back then. But it’s good to see you now, and… to see the life you’ve built.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “It’s good to see you too, Suguru.” you whispered. “And to your girls too.”

He nodded, his gaze holding yours, and for a moment, the weight of the years seemed to lift, just slightly. You weren’t sure where this would lead, if anywhere at all. But you knew that something had shifted, something had opened between you, a door long closed but never quite locked. And maybe, just maybe, there was room to step through, to find out what lay on the other side.

══════════════════

YOU DIDN’T HAVE IT IN YOU TO LEAVE THE HOUSE FOR A WHILE. The days had grown longer since the funeral, each one stretching into the next with a quiet emptiness you hadn’t anticipated.

The house, once filled with the familiar rhythms of your husband’s presence, now seemed to echo with a silence that settled deep in your bones. To stave off the hollow ache that threatened to consume you, you kept yourself busy — perhaps too busy. 

You tended to your garden with a fervor that bordered on obsession, your hands constantly stained with earth, fingers rooting through the soil as if searching for something buried there, something that might fill the void.

The roses were blooming better than ever, their petals full and lush, as if they knew how much you needed them now. Your days blurred together in the quiet sanctuary of your backyard, kneeling among the flowers until the sun dipped below the horizon.

When you weren’t in the garden, you took your dogs for long, meandering walks. They were your faithful companions, sensing your grief in their quiet, unspoken way. You found solace in their steady presence, in the rhythm of their paws on the pavement, and the way they’d look back at you, as if making sure you were still there, still moving forward.

But your daughter, ever perceptive, noticed the way your days seemed to stretch out like a taut wire, threatening to snap. She was packing for college now, her room in disarray, and you could see the worry creasing her brow every time she glanced your way. 

One evening, as you sat together at the kitchen table, your daughter set down the book she’d been pretending to read and looked at you with a seriousness that caught you off guard.

“Mom.... I.... uh…..” she began, her voice soft but firm. “I’ve been thinking… about when I leave.”

You forced a smile, trying to keep your tone light. “Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I’ve got the garden, the dogs… plenty to keep me busy.”

She shook her head, her expression earnest. “That’s just it, though. I don’t want you to be just… keeping busy. I want you to have people around you. Friends. People to talk to.”

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. “I have friends,” you insisted gently, though you knew what she was getting at.

“Not like that,” she countered, shaking her head. “I mean… I want you to have new friends. I know this has been hard on you, losing Dad. And I just… I worry about you being lonely when I’m gone.”

You felt a lump form in your throat, a familiar sensation these days. “I’ll manage,” you murmured, but she wasn’t deterred.

“What about Father Suguru?” she asked, and you blinked, surprised. You hadn’t expected her to bring him up, not after the funeral, not after everything that had been left unspoken between you and the priest who had once been so much more.

“What about him?” you asked cautiously.

“He seems… nice.” she said, hesitating for a moment. “And you used to know him, right? Before Dad, before everything. Why not… reconnect with him? I mean, he invited you to church activities, didn’t he?”

You looked down at your hands, feeling a twinge of something you couldn’t quite name. “I don’t know… It feels strange, after all these years.”

“Maybe…..” she conceded. “But he’s reaching out, and I think it might be good for you. You don’t have to do it alone, you know? And it might help… to have someone around who understands.”

You looked up at her, seeing the concern etched in her young face, the worry that you had tried so hard to keep at bay. She was right, of course — the house was too big and too quiet, and the days too long. And perhaps, she had a point. Perhaps there was something to be said for reaching out, for finding solace in old friendships, even if they had been left behind in another life.

“I’ll think about it.” you finally said, offering her a small smile.

She reached out, taking your hand. “Just try, Mom. For me. I just want you to be happy… to find some peace.”

You nodded, feeling a tightness in your chest that you hadn’t felt in a long time. “I’ll try.” you promised, though the words felt heavier than you expected.

That Sunday, you found yourself standing outside the church, the morning sun casting long shadows on the stone steps. You hesitated, your heart thudding in your chest, but then you saw him — Suguru, standing by the entrance, greeting the parishioners as they arrived. His face brightened when he saw you, and he raised a hand in a small, almost tentative wave.

Taking a deep breath, you walked toward him, feeling the weight of the years between you like a whisper in the air. But as you drew closer, you felt something lift, something small but hopeful, as if maybe — just maybe — there was still room for new beginnings, even now.

Suguru’s smile widened as you approached, a gentle warmth radiating from him that eased some of the tension winding tight in your chest. He was dressed simply, in a way that suited him, with the plain black shirt and collar of his vocation. Yet, there was an ease in his posture, an openness that seemed to welcome you without hesitation. 

“Good morning.” he greeted softly, his voice carrying a familiarity that sent a shiver down your spine. “I’m glad to see you here.”

You returned his smile, though it felt a bit shaky on your lips. “I… thought I’d take you up on your invitation.” you replied, your words feeling tentative, almost shy. “My daughter encouraged me to come.”

He nodded, understanding flashing in his eyes. “She’s a wise young woman.” he said, his tone light. “I’m sure she just wants you to have some company, some… support.”

“I think she worries about me.” you admitted, glancing down at your hands. “And she’s right. The house is quiet. Too quiet, sometimes.”

Suguru’s expression softened, and he stepped a little closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate level. “I understand,” he murmured. “More than you know. It’s easy to feel lost in the silence after everything changes. But… you don’t have to go through it alone.”

You felt your heart ache at the kindness in his words, at the understanding he offered so freely. “Thank you.” you whispered. “It’s… been hard. I didn’t think it would be this hard.”

Suguru’s gaze held yours, steady and patient. “Grief has a way of sneaking up on us when we least expect it.” he said softly. “But you’re here now. And that’s something. You’ve taken a step.”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “I suppose I have.”

He gestured toward the entrance of the church, where people were beginning to gather, a soft hum of conversation filling the air. “Would you like to come in?” he asked. “We’re having a small gathering after the service — just some coffee and a chance to chat. I think you might enjoy it.”

You hesitated for a moment, the weight of uncertainty heavy on your shoulders. But there was a sincerity in Suguru’s eyes, a quiet encouragement that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be so terrible after all.

“I think I’d like that.” you said finally, your voice is firmer than before. “I could use a bit of company.”

His smile grew, genuine and warm. “Good.” he said, stepping back to let you pass. “I’ll be right by your side if you need anything. And I’m sure there are plenty of people here who would love to meet you.”

As you stepped inside, you were immediately enveloped by the soft glow of the stained glass windows, the warm, golden light casting colorful patterns across the pews. The room was filled with the low murmur of conversation, and you felt a flutter of anxiety in your chest. But Suguru was beside you, his presence steadying, and somehow that made it easier.

He introduced you to a few members of the congregation — older women with kind smiles, younger families with children who clung shyly to their parents’ legs. You exchanged polite pleasantries, feeling a bit like a fish out of water, but everyone was welcoming, their warmth a stark contrast to the cold emptiness that had filled your days.

After the service, as promised, there was coffee and tea in the small parish hall. You found yourself standing beside Suguru as he chatted easily with a group of parishioners, his voice calm and comforting, his laugh a soft rumble that seemed to put everyone at ease. You watched him from the corner of your eye, still marveling at the way he had changed and yet stayed so much the same.

At some point, Mimiko and Nanako found their way to your side, their small hands tugging on the hem of your jacket. “Are you going to be our friend too?” Mimiko asked, her eyes wide with hope.

You smiled down at her, your heart softening at her earnest expression. “I’d like that very much, if you would allow me.” you replied, and she beamed, satisfied with your answer.

Nanako, quieter but just as curious, looked up at you with a small smile. “Papa says you used to be his best friend.” she said matter-of-factly.

Suguru chuckled softly, a hint of a blush coloring his cheeks. “Children are so honest, aren’t they?” he murmured.

You laughed, feeling a lightness you hadn’t felt in months. “Yes.” you agreed, looking at him. “They are.”

Your conversation flowed, you felt the tension in your shoulders begin to ease, the heaviness in your chest lifting, if only just a bit. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. And as you stood there, surrounded by new faces and old memories, you realized that maybe your daughter had been right.

Maybe this was what you needed. Not to forget your grief, but to find a way to live with it, to let it become a part of you without letting it define you. And perhaps, with Suguru beside you, with new connections to explore, you could start to build something new from the ashes of what you had lost.

You caught Suguru’s eye again, and he offered you a small, understanding smile, as if sensing the shift within you. And for the first time in a long time, you felt something like hope.

══════════════════

TIME WITH SUGURU HEALED YOU. Over the next few weeks, you found yourself spending more and more time at the church. It had started with Sunday services and slowly expanded to weekday gatherings — a book club here, a community dinner there, little things that filled the empty spaces in your days.

Geto Suguru was always there, a quiet, steady presence. He was kind, attentive without being overbearing, and somehow, being around him made things feel just a bit lighter.

Your daughter noticed the change in you when she came home from college for the weekend. She saw the way your smile reached your eyes again, the way you seemed less burdened, and she was pleased.

“I knew you’d find someone to talk to, mom.” she said with a grin, her voice teasing. “Father Suguru is nice, isn’t he?”

You blushed at the mention of his name, feeling a strange mix of guilt and warmth. “He’s… he’s been very kind to me.” you replied. “It’s nice to have someone to talk to, that’s all.”

But deep down, you knew it was more than that. Slowly, gently, you and Suguru had begun to fall into the rhythm of your old friendship, but there was something new simmering beneath the surface, something unspoken that neither of you dared to name.

You felt it in the way his eyes lingered just a little too long when he looked at you, in the way your hand brushed his in passing and lingered a moment too long. There was a magnetic pull between you, a quiet longing that seemed to grow with every passing day.

And yet, there was a line you both knew you could not cross.

Suguru never spoke of it, but you could see the conflict in his eyes, the way he caught himself when he stood too close or when his hand brushed yours in a way that felt almost… intentional.

He would smile, pull back, and busy himself with something else, as if to remind himself of the boundaries he could not breach. You could sense the struggle within him, the way he tried so hard to remain the devoted priest, the man who had chosen a life of service and sacrifice.

It was during a rainy afternoon, after a small charity event at the church, you found yourself in his office, helping him sort through donations. The rain pattered softly against the windows, casting a muted glow over the room.

You were both seated on the floor, sorting through clothes and toys, when your hands brushed again. This time, neither of you pulled away. Geto Suguru’s breath caught in his throat, and you felt your heart race in response. The air between you grew thick, charged with an energy you could no longer ignore.

He looked up at you, his expression conflicted, torn between the desire you both felt and the commitment he had made. “I shouldn’t…” he began softly, his voice barely a whisper.

You swallowed, feeling the weight of his words. “I know,” you replied just as quietly. “I know it’s… complicated.”

Suguru’s eyes searched yours, as if looking for something — some kind of understanding, or perhaps, absolution. “I’ve… I’ve given my life to this.” he murmured, his gaze dropping to the floor. “To the church, to God. I made a vow.”

You nodded, your heart aching at the pain in his voice. “I don’t want to make things harder for you.” you whispered. “I don’t want you to have to choose.”

He shook his head, a bitter smile crossing his lips. “It’s not that simple.” he said, a hint of frustration creeping into his tone. “I… I made that vow because I had to. Because I felt it was the only way I could atone for something. Something I never told you.”

You blinked, confused. “Atone? For what?”

He hesitated, the struggle evident in his eyes. Then, finally, he spoke, his voice trembling with the weight of his confession. “I became a priest because… because I thought it might save you when you got in that accident.” he said, his words barely more than a breath.

You held your breath for a moment. You don’t know how you were going to deal with what he might say to you. What truths may come out.  What can you say, what can you say and do after all these years? He'd hidden all that, he'd kept his silence for more than twenty years and you don't know what to do. 

“What do you mean to say?”

“I thought if I gave my life to God, he would spare yours.”

You stared at him, stunned, as his words sank in. “Suguru… I don’t understand.”

He looked down, his hands trembling. “Years ago, when we… when we lost touch, I heard about what happened.” he explained, his voice heavy with emotion. “I was told you might not survive. I felt helpless, powerless to do anything. So, I prayed. I prayed with everything I had, and I promised God that if he saved you, I would give my life in return. I would serve him, devote myself to his cause. And you… you recovered.”

Your breath caught in your throat, a whirlwind of emotions crashing over you. “You did that… for me?”

He nodded, his eyes wet with unshed tears. “I did. And I couldn’t break that promise, not when He answered me. I couldn’t… I still can’t. Not like this.”

A lump formed in your throat as you realized the depth of his sacrifice, the weight of the promise he had made. “Suguru, I… I don’t know what to say.” you whispered, feeling a mix of gratitude, sorrow, and something else — something deeper, more complicated.

He reached for your hand then, his touch gentle but firm. “You don’t have to say anything, okay?” he replied softly. “I just… I needed you to know. I need you to understand why I can’t… why can't……..”

You nodded, tears blurring your vision. “I understand.” you said, your voice breaking. “I won’t ask you to break your vow. I just… I just don’t want to lose you again.”

He squeezed your hand, his expression pained but resolute. “You won’t.” he promised. “Not as long as I can help it. But we have to be careful. We have to… to find a way to be friends again, without… without crossing that line.”

You nodded again, swallowing back the tears. “I can do that.” you said quietly. “I can try.”

══════════════════

YOU COULDN’T HELP UNDERSTAND WHAT TO FEEL.The days after your confession were a blur of forced distance and unspoken words. Every time you passed by his office or saw him in the hallways, there was a tension, a gravity that threatened to pull you back in. But you resisted, reminding yourself of the vow he had made and the reasons why you had to keep your distance.

His promise was not something to take lightly. You knew that, and so did he. There were obligations, personal codes, things he held dear, and breaking them meant more than just a fleeting moment of passion. It meant betrayal — to himself and to the values he had sworn to uphold. You couldn’t be the reason he wavered, no matter how much your heart ached with the memory of that moment in his office.

The memory haunted you. The way his eyes softened when you spoke, how his gaze lingered just a little too long, how his lips parted, ready to say something that never came. It was both a promise and a plea, something unspoken but understood between the two of you. Yet, you knew it couldn’t be.

So you did what you thought was best. You put distance between you, told yourself it was the only way to keep things under control. You busied yourself with anything and everything, trying to ignore the weight in your chest that grew heavier each day. But it wasn’t just you who pulled back.

He, too, kept his distance, his demeanor cool and composed, almost like nothing had ever happened. But there were cracks — moments when his eyes would meet yours across a crowded room, moments when his voice would catch ever so slightly when speaking to you.

In those moments, you wondered if he was feeling the same pull, the same struggle to keep his distance. Was it difficult for him too? Did he regret the way things were left, or was he relieved that you had taken the initiative to step back?

Despite the pain of staying away, you told yourself it was for the best. It was the right thing to do, even though every fiber of your being wanted to run back to him, to let yourself fall into whatever this was between you. But you couldn’t — you wouldn’t be the reason he broke his vow. Because as much as you longed for him, you respected him more.

Still, late at night, when you were alone with your thoughts, you couldn’t help but wonder: What if? What if you hadn’t walked away that day? What if he had been the one to break the distance? The uncertainty gnawed at you, leaving you with a bittersweet longing that neither distance nor time could seem to quiet.

But the distance only seemed to make things worse.

At first, it was easy enough to stay away. You busied yourself with gardening, taking the dogs for longer walks, filling your days with mundane chores and errands. But the quiet nights were harder.

Your thoughts would drift back to Suguru — to the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, the way his voice dropped to a whisper when he spoke your name. You’d catch yourself imagining the brush of his hand against yours, the warmth of his body close to yours, the way he had leaned in just a bit too close, as if he might kiss you if only for a second. 

You knew you shouldn’t be thinking about him like that. He was a priest. He had made a choice, a vow, and you respected that. But the more you tried to push those thoughts away, the more they seemed to creep in, filling the quiet spaces of your mind.

Suguru was struggling too. He tried to focus on his duties, on the congregation, on the children who relied on him. He threw himself into his work with a fervor that bordered on obsession, trying to drown out the thoughts of you that seemed to linger no matter how hard he prayed.

But late at night, alone in his quarters, he found himself thinking of you. Of your laugh, your smile, the way you had looked at him in his office, your eyes filled with understanding, with something deeper that had taken root in his chest and refused to let go.

He would close his eyes and imagine what it would feel like to reach for you, to pull you into his arms, to taste your lips, to feel the heat of your skin against his. He hated himself for it, for the desire that surged through him like a tidal wave, threatening to sweep him away from everything he had promised to uphold. He’d kneel by his bed, his forehead pressed against his clasped hands, and pray for strength, for guidance, for something — anything — to take this longing away.

But the longing only grew.

One evening, as you sat on your porch, the sun dipping below the horizon, casting a soft golden glow over the garden, you felt the ache of loneliness settle deep in your bones.

You had spent the day trying to distract yourself, but nothing seemed to help. Every thought circled back to Suguru, to the way he made you feel alive in a way you hadn’t felt in years. You found yourself wondering what he was doing, if he was thinking of you too, if he was struggling as much as you were.

Without really meaning to, you reached for your phone. You typed out a message, then deleted it. Typed another, then deleted that too. You sighed, setting the phone aside, telling yourself to stop, to let it go. But your hand hovered over the screen, and before you knew it, you were calling his number.

The phone rang once, twice, and then his voice came through, soft and uncertain. “Hello?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Hi.” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I… I hope I’m not bothering you.”

There was a pause, and you could hear the hesitation in his breath. “No.” he replied finally, his voice gentle. “You’re not bothering me.”

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. “I just… I wanted to see how you were.” you admitted. “It’s been a while.”

He let out a soft sigh, and you could almost hear the smile in his voice. “It has.” he agreed. “I’ve… missed you.”

You closed your eyes, the words sinking into your skin like a balm. “I’ve missed you too.” you confessed, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “I’ve been trying to stay away, but… it’s harder than I thought.”

He was quiet for a moment, and you could hear the rustle of fabric, the soft creak of a chair. “I’ve been trying too.” he admitted, his voice strained. “But it’s… it’s not easy.”

There was something in his tone, a rough edge that sent a shiver down your spine. “Suguru…….” you whispered, your heart pounding. “What are we going to do?”

He let out a breath, and you could feel the weight of his struggle, the battle raging within him. “I don’t know....." he replied honestly. “I’ve been praying for guidance, for… for something to help me make sense of this. But every time I close my eyes, all I see is you.”

Your breath hitched at his confession, the honesty of it slicing through you like a knife. “I… I feel the same.” you whispered. “I can’t stop thinking about you. About… about what it would feel like to…”

The words were right there, lingering on the tip of your tongue, but they felt too potent, too dangerous to release. You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening, your heart pounding in your chest as you stood there, teetering on the edge of a confession you weren't ready to make.

You wanted to say it, to let it all out — the weight of your feelings, the yearning that had grown over time, the way you couldn’t stop thinking about him, couldn’t stop feeling for him. But the moment felt too fragile, too charged. One wrong word and the delicate balance you both had maintained for so long would shatter. And so, you trailed off, your voice faltering, the unsaid hanging thick between you.

But he knew. The air in the room seemed to shift, charged with a tension that neither of you could deny. You could hear it in his breathing, the way it hitched, just for a moment, as if he was caught off guard by the depth of what you almost said. His chest rose and fell with a newfound heaviness, each breath more labored than the last, betraying the calm facade he tried to maintain.

He didn’t look at you right away, as if turning to face you would confirm everything — the longing, the hesitation, the unspoken desires that had been building between you both for far too long. But when he finally spoke, his voice trembled, a slight quiver beneath his usual steady tone. It wasn’t much, barely noticeable to anyone else, but to you, it was everything.

It was proof that he understood that he was feeling the same thing you were, even if neither of you could fully articulate it. His words, whatever they were, seemed like an afterthought, just filler to mask the emotions surging beneath the surface. Yet, the tremor in his voice betrayed him, and for a moment, you wondered if he would be the one to break first.

But he didn’t. Instead, you both stood there, suspended in the weight of your silence, the unspoken words pressing against your lips like a dam about to break. You could feel the heat of his presence, the way the space between you seemed to shrink without either of you moving an inch. There was so much you wanted to say, so much you wanted to hear, but neither of you dared cross that invisible line.

Even though nothing was said aloud, the room felt full — full of everything you couldn’t bring yourself to admit, full of everything he had already understood. The weight of it pressed on you, thick and heavy, and you realized that sometimes, words weren’t necessary. Sometimes, the silence, the shared breath, the trembling voice, said everything that needed to be said.

And in that moment, you both knew.

“I know.” he whispered, his voice raw with need. “I’ve thought about it too. More than I should.”

Your heart raced, a flush spreading over your skin as the heat of his words washed over you. “Maybe… maybe we could just see each other.” you suggested tentatively. “Just… just to talk. Nothing more.”

He hesitated, and you could feel the conflict in his silence. But then he spoke, his voice thick with longing. “Just to talk, like back then....” he agreed. “But… if it becomes too much…”

“I’ll leave.” you promised. “I don’t want to make things harder for you. I just… I just need to see you.”

He sighed, a sound of both relief and resignation. “Okay……” he said softly. “Come to the church tomorrow. After the evening service. We can… we can talk.”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you, your heart racing with anticipation, with fear, with desire.

“Okay.” you whispered. “Tomorrow.”

When the call ended, you felt a strange mix of emotions — excitement, anxiety, a deep, pulsing need that you couldn’t ignore. You told yourself it would just be a conversation, just a chance to clear the air, to find some semblance of peace in this storm. But deep down, you knew it wouldn’t be that simple. Nothing between you and Geto Suguru had ever been simple.

And as you lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, you wondered what tomorrow would bring, and whether you’d have the strength to resist the pull that had only grown stronger with every moment you spent apart.

══════════════════

YOU DON’T KNOW ABOUT WHAT TO DO. The next evening arrived like a cold weight pressing on your chest. You stood outside the church, your clothes soaked through as the rain beat down relentlessly, its bitter chill sinking into your bones.

Each gust of wind cut through you, but the storm raging around you was nothing compared to the turmoil within. You had rehearsed what you might say over and over, yet as you stood before the old wooden doors, the words felt distant, unreachable.

With a shaky breath, you reached out, your hand trembling as it grasped the iron handle. The door creaked, groaning under the pressure of your push, the sound amplified by the hollow quiet inside.

Stepping across the threshold, you could hear the echo of your footsteps against the stone floor, each step amplifying the pounding of your heart, which beat in sync with the thunder rumbling outside.

The church was nearly empty, its vast interior engulfed in an eerie stillness. The last remnants of the evening service had long since faded, leaving only a few flickering candles scattered around the altar.

Their faint, wavering light sent shadows dancing across the old stone walls, casting strange shapes that seemed to twist and shift with every gust of wind that rattled the windows. The air smelled of damp wood, incense, and something ancient — a scent that seemed to settle deep in your lungs, grounding you in the moment yet unsettling you all the same.

You paused just inside the doorway, wiping the rain from your face, and took in the silence that surrounded you. Despite the stillness, the weight of the space pressed down on you, amplifying your anxiety. You weren’t sure if it was the setting or the reason for your presence that made your chest tighten, but every breath felt like an effort. 

The soft hum of the storm outside was barely audible within the stone sanctuary, creating a strange sense of isolation. You found yourself both soothed and unnerved by the contrast — the chaos outside, the fragile calm inside.

And yet, even within this tranquility, there was a tension, a palpable sense of anticipation that settled in your gut. You were here for a reason, but now, standing in the dim light of the church, the reality of it felt heavier than you had imagined.

You walked slowly down the aisle, your footsteps echoing off the vaulted ceiling, each step measured, deliberate, as if delaying the inevitable. The pews were empty, save for a few scattered hymn books and prayer pamphlets left behind.

The rows stretched endlessly before you, and every flicker of the candles seemed to emphasize the emptiness, the vastness of the space, making you feel smaller with each passing second.

As you approached the altar, your breath hitched in your throat. This was the place where vows were made, promises were sealed, and lives were intertwined — for better or for worse. But you weren’t here for such formalities.

No, your visit was shrouded in uncertainty and the kind of unspoken tension that you had no idea how to resolve. The closer you got to the altar, the more the anticipation surged, twisting inside you.

You hesitated, standing just a few feet away from the altar steps. The candles flickered, casting long shadows that stretched toward you like fingers reaching from the past, urging you to move forward. But you remained still, heart pounding, breath shallow. The moment felt suspended, like a string pulled taut, ready to snap.

In the stillness, you wondered what awaited you — what words would be exchanged, what truths would be revealed. The anxiety gnawed at you, and yet, beneath it all, there was a strange undercurrent of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this night would bring clarity, an answer to the questions that had haunted you since the last time you were here.

And so you stood there, fighting the urge to turn back, knowing that what happened next could change everything.

You could hear Suguru’s voice in the distance, speaking quietly with one of the parishioners. You waited near the back, your hands clasped in front of you, trying to steady your breathing. When he finished, he turned and saw you, his expression softening in a way that made your chest ache.

"You're here." he said, walking over to you. His voice was low, and there was a flicker of something in his eyes — relief, maybe, or hesitation.

"I am." you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "I… I needed to see you."

He nodded, his gaze sweeping over you, lingering for just a moment too long. “Come with me.” he murmured, gesturing toward a small room off to the side. His office, you realized. The room where it all started.

You followed him, your footsteps echoing softly on the stone floor. The air felt thick, heavy with unsaid words, with unspoken need. Once inside, he closed the door, and you both stood there for a moment, staring at each other, unsure where to begin. You could feel your heart pound at each step you took. Your breath hitches as you walk with him, many thoughts racing over and over in your head.

Suguru took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. "I’m glad you came." he said, breaking the silence. "But I… I don’t know if this is a good idea."

Your chest tightened at his words, a mixture of frustration and longing bubbling to the surface. “I don’t either.” you admitted, “but I don’t know what else to do. I can’t just… ignore this.”

He looked at you, his eyes darkening with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. “Do you think it’s easy for me?” he asked, his voice rising slightly. “Do you think I don’t feel it too? This… this pull?”

You took a step closer, feeling a spark of anger mixed with desire. “Then why are we fighting it, Suguru? Why are we pretending like this isn’t happening?”

He shook his head, his frustration evident. “Because I made a promise, you know that.” he snapped. “Because I dedicated my life to something bigger than myself, and I can’t just… I can’t just throw that away!”

You felt a surge of emotion, a frustration that had been building for weeks. “I’m not asking you to throw anything away!” you shot back, your voice louder than you intended. “But you can’t just… you can’t just pretend you don’t feel anything. That we don’t feel anything!”

His eyes flashed with something you couldn’t quite name — anger, maybe, or desire. “I’ve spent years pretending, trying to bury these feelings,” he said, his voice low and raw. “But every time I see you… every time I hear your voice…”

He stepped closer, his breath hot against your skin, his eyes locked onto yours. “It tears me apart. And I don’t know…..” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve tried to stay away. God knows I’ve tried. But I… I can’t.”

You could feel the heat radiating off him, the tension between you thick and suffocating. “Then don’t.” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Don’t stay away. Don’t push me away…Please.”

His breath hitched, his hands twitching at his sides as if he was fighting the urge to reach for you. “This is madness.” he murmured, but his voice lacked conviction. “This… this is wrong.”

“Is it?” you challenged, your heart pounding in your chest. “Is it really so wrong to want… to feel…?”

He closed his eyes, a pained expression crossing his face. “I don’t know anymore.” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know what’s right or wrong when it comes to you.”

Before you could think, before you could stop yourself, you reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling him closer. “Then stop thinking.” you said softly, your voice trembling. “Just… just feel.”

For a moment, he froze, his breath catching in his throat. Then, something inside him seemed to snap. He surged forward, his hands cupping your face, his lips crashing against yours with a force that took your breath away.

The kiss was desperate, hungry, years of longing and frustration pouring out in a single, electrifying moment. You felt his hands tangle in your hair, his body pressing against yours, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. You kissed him back with equal fervor, your fingers gripping his shirt, pulling him closer, needing to feel him, to taste him, to know that this was real.

Your back hit the wall, and he pressed against you, his mouth moving against yours with a ferocity that made your knees weak. You could feel his heart pounding in his chest, could taste the salt of his tears on his lips. You were drowning in him, in the scent of him, in the feel of his body against yours, in the way his hands roamed your back, pulling you closer, deeper into the kiss.

But then, as quickly as it began, he pulled away, gasping for breath, his hands still holding your face, his forehead resting against yours. “We… we can’t.” he panted, his voice broken, torn. “This… this isn’t right.”

You were both breathing hard, your chest heaving with the effort to calm the storm raging inside you. “I know,” you whispered, your voice shaky. “I know it’s not. But… but I need you, Suguru. I need you so much.”

He closed his eyes, his hands trembling against your skin. “I need you too.” he confessed, his voice choking with emotion. “God help me, I need you too.”

And in that moment, as you stood there, pressed against the wall, your breaths mingling in the darkened room, you both knew that something had changed. A line had been crossed, a boundary shattered, and there was no going back.

The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, tangled together in a moment that was as intoxicating as it was forbidden. And for the first time, you allowed yourself to feel the weight of what was between you, to acknowledge the depth of your desire, the strength of your longing.

Suguru’s lips brushed against yours again, softer this time, more tentative, as if he was afraid to break the fragile moment. “What are we doing?” he whispered against your mouth.

You closed your eyes, feeling his breath warm against your skin. “I don’t know.” you admitted, your voice barely more than a breath. “But I don’t want to stop.”

He swallowed hard, his forehead still pressed against yours, his hands cradling your face as if he were afraid you might disappear. “Neither do I.” he confessed, his voice breaking. “Neither do I.”

His breath was ragged, his hands shaking as they cupped your face once more, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was both desperate and tender, as if he were searching for something he had lost long ago.

The world around you seemed to dissolve into a blur, leaving only the two of you in this sacred, forbidden moment. Tears slipped down your cheeks, and he felt them against his skin, his own eyes closing tight as if he could hold back the storm of emotions threatening to consume him.

He kissed you again, harder this time, a low, shaky sigh escaping him as his hands found their way to your waist, pulling you against him with a strength that bordered on desperation.

“Forgive me.” he murmured against your lips, the words barely audible, his voice thick with emotion. “God, forgive me…”

But even as he spoke, he knew there was no forgiveness for what he was about to do, no absolution in this moment of need and longing. He felt the weight of his vows, the promises he had made, the life he had chosen… and yet, when it came to you, every vow seemed like a distant memory, every promise a faint echo of a past life. 

His hands moved to your shoulders, pressing you back against the wall, his lips trailing down your neck, kissing every inch of skin he could reach as if he were worshiping at an altar.

“I’ve sinned so truly and endlessly for all these years.” he whispered, his voice raw, broken. “I’ve sinned, loving you… wanting you… needing you…”

You gasped, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer, needing to feel him, needing to know this was real. His lips moved lower, tracing the line of your collarbone, his breath hot against your skin.

“You’ve always been my god.” he confessed, his voice a breathless prayer. “And I… your most devoted follower…”

He sank to his knees, his hands sliding down your sides, his lips brushing against the fabric of your dress. He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire, his expression a mixture of longing and torment.

“I can’t stop.” he whispered, his voice barely a breath. “I won’t stop…”

His fingers hooked into the hem of your dress, lifting it slowly, reverently, his lips pressing kisses to the exposed skin of your thighs. You shivered, your breath catching in your throat as he continued, his hands trembling against your skin. 

“I’ll sin for you… over and over.” he murmured, his lips brushing against the curve of your hip. “Because I can’t let you go…”

He kissed lower, his mouth trailing down the inside of your thigh, his breath warm against your skin. He paused for a moment, his hands gripping your thighs, his forehead pressing against your belly as if he were fighting some inner battle. And then, with a sigh that seemed to come from the depths of his soul, he kissed you again, his lips finding the center of your desire, soft and demanding all at once.

You moaned, your head falling back against the wall, your hands gripping his shoulders as his tongue flicked against you, tasting you, savoring you like the sweetest sin.

He groaned, the sound vibrating against your skin, his hands tightening their grip on your thighs, pulling you closer as his tongue moved in slow, deliberate circles, each stroke a prayer, each touch a confession.

He kissed you there, over and over, his mouth moving against you with a fervor that was almost holy in its intensity. He could feel your body trembling beneath his hands, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he worshiped you with every ounce of devotion he possessed. His tongue swirled around your clit, teasing, tasting, the heat of his breath mingling with the heat of your skin.

His hands gripped the soft flesh of your thighs, his fingers digging into your skin as he held you steady, his mouth never leaving you, his tongue moving faster, hungrier, seeking to draw out every cry, every moan, every shudder of pleasure. His own breath came in ragged bursts, his heart pounding in his chest, his body trembling with the force of his own desire.

He couldn’t stop — didn’t want to stop. You were his sanctuary, his salvation, and in this moment, he was lost in you, lost in the heat of your skin, the taste of your desire, the sound of your breathless gasps. He moaned against you, the sound filled with need, with longing, with a hunger that bordered on desperation.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him on as he continued, his lips and tongue moving against you with a fervor that was almost frantic. He felt your body tense, heard the soft, breathless moans that escaped your lips, and he knew you were close. Suguru wanted to push you over the edge, wanted to hear you cry out his name, wanted to feel you shatter against his lips.

And so, he continued, his tongue flicking faster, his lips pressing harder, his hands gripping your thighs as if he could anchor himself to you, as if he could hold you here, with him, in this perfect, sinful moment forever. 

You cried out, your body arching against the wall, your hands tightening in his hair as you came, a soft, breathless moan escaping your lips. He groaned against you, his tongue never stopping, his lips moving against you with a fervor that was almost holy, almost desperate, as if he were afraid to let you go, afraid to let the moment end.

And in that moment, he knew — he knew he would never be able to stop sinning for you. He would never be able to walk away, to forget the taste of you, the feel of you, the sound of your voice crying out his name. He was yours, body and soul, for better or for worse, for all eternity.

He pulled back, his breath ragged, his lips glistening, his eyes dark and filled with a longing so deep it nearly broke your heart. He looked up at you, his hands still gripping your thighs, his expression a mixture of awe and torment.

His voice was hoarse when he spoke, as if every word took effort to push past the weight of his desire. "I can't... I can't stop this." he confessed, his forehead resting against your stomach, his breath warm against your skin. His hands slid up your sides, pulling you closer as if anchoring himself to you, needing the connection as much as the air in his lungs.

You tangled your fingers in his hair again, your pulse still racing, the aftermath of the moment leaving your body humming with a mix of exhaustion and anticipation. You could feel the tension in him, the battle between what he wanted and what he knew was dangerous, and yet you both understood — there was no turning back. Not now.

Slowly, you tilted his chin up, guiding his gaze back to yours. His eyes, still dark with desire, searched yours, and you could see the fear in them — fear of the depth of this thing between you, fear of how much it already consumed him. But beneath that, there was something more. Something tender, vulnerable, almost fragile.

"I don't want you to stop." you whispered, your voice soft but firm. "I don't want this to end.”

Suguru's eyes softened for a moment, then clouded with guilt. His hands trembled as they cupped your face, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks. "I'm sorry." he murmured, his voice breaking with regret. "I'm so sorry… I led you to sin. This desire—my desire—it’s wrong, I’ve tainted you. I should have never let it go this far."

You shook your head, heart pounding, and leaned into his touch. "No." you whispered fiercely. "You didn't lead me anywhere I didn't want to go. I chose this. I chose you. If we're sinners, then I'll carry that sin with you. Together."

Without hesitation, you captured his lips in a kiss that was hard, desperate, and messy, like you were trying to devour him, to merge with him completely. And Suguru, filled with equal need, responded with the same raw intensity. His hands roamed your body, hungry, claiming, as if trying to make sure this moment, this choice, could never be undone.

In one swift motion, he lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the confession box. The small, sacred space that had once held secrets and forgiveness was now your altar of passion. You both fumbled with your clothes, hands frantic, lips still locked in that feverish kiss. When the last piece of fabric fell to the floor, he broke away just long enough to whisper. 

"You are my god. I was never meant to devote worship to anyone else."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and the intensity of his devotion left you breathless. When he finally entered you, filling you completely, your body arched, as if instinctively trying to get closer, deeper, into the space where the boundaries of pleasure and need blurred into something beyond comprehension. 

The moan that escaped your lips was loud, unrestrained, ripped from your throat like a prayer answered after too long in the desert. And as if answering your plea, Suguru thrust harder, deeper, his breath ragged, his skin slick with sweat as the storm outside raged in perfect synchrony with the chaos inside you both.

Thunder cracked, the air vibrating with the sound, but neither of you cared. It was the storm that gave you permission to be loud, to scream, to lose yourselves in this forbidden act. The rain pounded against the windows, a constant drumbeat to the rhythm of his body pressing into yours, over and over, until your mind was lost in a haze of pleasure so blinding you couldn’t tell where your body ended and his began.

You came, hard and fast, your body trembling uncontrollably in his arms, but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop. His pace grew more desperate, each thrust pushing deeper, more insistent, like a prayer that had to be spoken aloud, no matter the cost. His worship of you was not gentle; it was fierce, almost frenzied, as if the very act of being inside you was the only way he could breathe.

"Suguru." you gasped, barely able to speak, your voice broken and breathless. But the sound of his name on your lips seemed to spur him on. His hands gripped your hips tighter, pulling you impossibly closer, his movements becoming rougher, more urgent. Every thrust pushed you higher, every stroke making your body shake, your legs trembling as you gave into the pleasure that threatened to overwhelm you.

He was relentless, his need for you all-consuming, driven by something more than mere desire. It was devotion, pure and raw, a longing that had been pent up for far too long. His words from earlier echoed in your mind — You are my god — and you could feel the truth of it now, in every touch, every movement, as he gave himself to you completely.

You whimpered as your body responded to him again, another wave of pleasure building as he moved deeper inside you, filling every part of you until there was nothing left but him. The tension between your bodies, the heat, the raw, primal hunger, grew too much to bear. Your nails dug into his shoulders, your body clinging to him, needing him, wanting him, as he pushed you closer to the edge again.

The storm raged outside, lightning flashing, illuminating the room in brief moments of stark white, and in those flashes, you could see the look on his face — dark, intense, a man consumed by his love for you, by the act of giving himself over entirely, as if nothing else mattered in this world.

And maybe it didn’t.

"Suguru..." you moaned, feeling yourself break once more as your body surrendered to him completely, trembling violently against his as he continued to claim you, over and over, as if this moment would never end.

Suguru’s pace never faltered, his body pressed relentlessly against yours, each thrust deeper than the last. His eyes were half-lidded with a raw, burning need, his hands never loosening their grip on your trembling body.

Even as your voice broke into breathless cries, your hands clutched desperately at him, grounding yourself in the overwhelming sensations that coursed through you. He was utterly lost in you, consumed by the devotion he had promised — his worship of you unending, fervent, and wild.

Your body ached with the pleasure of it, shaking beneath him as he continued even after you had come. He was relentless, his hips driving against yours in a rhythm that sent shivers down your spine, each movement feeding the fire that burned between you. You felt overwhelmed, consumed, your body unable to keep up with the intensity of his desire, but you didn’t want him to stop. Not ever.

“Suguru……” you whimpered again, your voice cracking, barely able to speak as his thrusts grew rougher, more desperate. “Please…”

But whether you were begging for more or for a moment’s reprieve, even you didn’t know. He responded with a low, guttural moan, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath hot and ragged against your lips. His eyes, dark and wild, locked onto yours as he murmured in a voice thick with lust. 

“I need you… I need you more than anything. You’re everything.”

Your heart pounded, his words igniting something deep within you as your body gave in completely, surrendering to him as if you were both caught in the grip of something sacred and sinful all at once. He pushed deeper, each thrust taking you to the edge of what your body could handle, the pleasure blending with a delicious ache that left you trembling against him.

The thunder outside roared, masking your moans as his worship grew more fervent, his devotion unrelenting. Your body shook beneath him, every nerve alight as he claimed you over and over. Your hands slid up his back, your nails digging into his skin, marking him as yours as he took you higher, his pace unbroken, his rhythm fierce and untamed.

Lightning flashed again, casting the room in harsh light, illuminating the way his muscles strained as he drove into you, his face twisted in both agony and ecstasy. His voice, hoarse and filled with desperate reverence, reached you between the booming thunder. 

“You’re mine… only mine.”

The words broke something in you, your body shaking as the pleasure surged through you once again, your cries swallowed by the storm. You clung to him as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you, your body collapsing into his as the intensity of it all took you to the brink of delirium.

Suguru wasn’t far behind. His movements grew frantic, his body trembling with the effort of holding back as long as he could. But in the end, he couldn’t resist any longer. With a low, primal groan, he buried himself deep inside you one last time, his release washing over him as he collapsed into you, his entire body shaking with the force of it.

For a moment, neither of you moved, tangled together in a haze of exhaustion and bliss, the sound of the storm outside slowly fading into the background. His breath was heavy against your neck, his lips brushing your skin as he whispered. 

“I’m never letting you go.”

And as you lay there, wrapped in each other, you knew the truth of it — this was something neither of you could escape. Not the sin, not the pleasure, not the way you were both hopelessly bound to one another. For better or worse, you were his, and he was yours. Bound in sin, bound in love, bound in something far more powerful than either of you could understand.

══════════════════

epilogue

The car hummed softly beneath you as you drove, the highway stretching out ahead, quiet and serene in the early morning light. Your daughter sat in the passenger seat, her backpack nestled between her feet, her gaze fixed out the window as the city gave way to the open road leading toward the airport. The silence between you was comfortable, but there was an unspoken tension — the weight of goodbye looming just ahead.

You glanced over at her, your heart swelling with pride and a little bit of that inevitable ache that comes with watching your child leave. She had grown so much, blossomed into a young woman full of ambition and dreams. College was her next chapter, and you were ready to let her go, even if the thought tugged at your heart.

As if sensing your thoughts, she turned to you, her brow furrowed in concern. "Are you gonna be alright, Mom?" Her voice was soft, careful, as if she was more worried about you than her own big journey ahead.

You smiled at her, reaching over to give her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Yes, sweetheart. I'm going to be fine." You paused, your smile growing a little softer. "I have Suguru."

She smiled back, a knowing look in her eyes. She had grown up with Suguru around, seeing the way you two fit together. Over time, she understood the depth of your bond, even if she didn’t know the whole story. 

"I’m glad." she said quietly. "He’s good for you."

You nodded, your chest tightening a bit as the airport came into view. "He is. And I’m going to miss you. But you know you can come back anytime, right? This is always your home."

She smiled, though it was tinged with the same bittersweet feeling you carried. "I know, Mom. I’ll come back as soon as I can."

After pulling up to the drop-off zone, you hugged her tightly, savoring the warmth of her embrace. "I’m so proud of you." you whispered, holding her just a little longer than usual. 

"I love you, Mom." she murmured back before pulling away, her eyes a little misty. She gave you one last smile before grabbing her bag and disappearing through the airport doors.

For a moment, you sat there, watching the entrance as people hurried by, the world continuing on as always. You felt the pang of her absence already, but you knew that she was ready for this new adventure. And so were you.

With a deep breath, you turned the car around and headed back toward town, a quiet excitement building in your chest. Suguru was waiting for you. As you neared the church, the sight of it stirred something in you. It was the place where so much had started, where your life had taken a turn you could never have predicted.

Suguru had officially left the priesthood some time ago, and now, he was finishing the last bit of paperwork to close that chapter of his life. His decision had been made with a clear heart, for both of you and for the daughters he had taken in, Mimiko and Nanako. The three of them had already moved the rest of their things to a house just outside of town, the place where you would begin your new life together.

As you pulled into the small parking lot of the church, you spotted him standing near the entrance, his dark hair tied back, his expression calm but focused as he signed the last of the documents. He looked up when you parked, his lips curving into a soft smile as you approached.

"All set?" you asked as you reached him, your fingers brushing his in a quiet greeting.

He nodded, setting the paperwork aside. "It’s done. Everything’s in order." His smile widened, that familiar warmth in his gaze. "I’m free."

You exhaled softly, the weight of his words filling the space between you. He had left the priesthood not for the sake of running away from something, but for the chance to fully embrace the life he wanted — the life he wanted with you.

"So," you asked with a playful tilt of your head, "where to next?"

Suguru smiled, reaching out to take your hand in his, his touch grounding and steady, as it had always been. "I want to devote the rest of my life to you," he said simply, his voice gentle yet filled with unwavering certainty. 

Your heart swelled at his words, a rush of warmth flooding through you. He had always been devoted, but now it was different. Now, there were no barriers, no walls between you. It was just the two of you, ready to build something beautiful together.

You smiled, stepping closer and resting your head against his chest, his arms wrapping around you in a way that felt like home. "Then let’s go, hm?" you whispered. "Let’s start the rest of our lives."

And as you drove away from the church together, toward the house that would soon become your shared home, the future felt wide open — a new chapter, a new beginning. You had Suguru. You had love. And for the first time, you felt entirely free.

[noira-l]

𝚄𝚖𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚊 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚃𝚠𝚘

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: Beneath the rain’s steady rhythm, you cross paths with a stranger, sharing an umbrella on a quiet, forested road. What begins as a fleeting act of kindness unfolds into an unexpected connection, leaving questions and longing lingering like the rain-soaked air. Will you meet again?

𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 — teacher!geto suguru x afab reader

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎 — fluff, teacher au

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 — polite and gentle Suguru, shy reader, adorable reassuring dynamic, losts of blushing from reader, walking hand-in-hand, Suguru is a true gentleman, Satoru makes an brief appearance at the end.

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 — 5,9 k

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎 — One of my favourite texts, I see the potential to write a part two, let me know what you think and if you like it c:

𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚎 — september - sparky deatcap

𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

The rain had been falling in torrents since late afternoon, a warm deluge that soaked the earth and wrapped the air in the scent of wet leaves and damp soil. It was almost the end of summer, that fleeting stretch of warmth before the world cooled and grew crisp. You held onto the net of small purchases, pressing them close to your side.

Your sandals squelched against the wet asphalt, water seeping through with each step, though you hardly minded anymore. It was too late to avoid the inevitable, and there was a sort of childish thrill in the way the rain drenched you, despite the protection of your transparent umbrella.

The umbrella itself was a delicate thing, clear plastic that mirrored the drops of rain as they slid down its surface, catching the muted gray light of the cloudy sky. You tilted it slightly to better see the road ahead.

Around you, the world was hushed, softened by the rain. The desolate fields you had passed earlier were now behind you, the tall grass bending under the weight of the downpour. The trees of the forest loomed up ahead, dark and dense, the kind of green that seemed almost black when wet. Their leaves glittered with moisture, heavy with rain that dripped in a rhythmic patter to the forest floor.

Your village was still far off, a small cluster of houses tucked away from the busier parts of the world. It always felt like another century back there, with its narrow lanes and low stone walls.

Your friend had been kind enough to drop you off to work in the morning, but their day had gone another way, leaving you to make the journey home on foot. You didn’t mind too much; there was something oddly peaceful about being alone with the rain, even if your calves would ache by the time you made it back.

The forest stretched on, its canopy forming a natural tunnel that swallowed the sound of your footsteps. The air was warm, almost muggy, but the rain kept it fresh, a relief against your skin. You could hear the distant gurgle of a stream somewhere, the kind of noise that made you want to linger, to breathe it all in. But your arms were growing tired from carrying your bag of purchases, and you quickened your pace slightly, already looking forward to dry socks and tea.

Just ahead, a bus stop stood at the side of the road. It was a modest thing, little more than a metal frame with a roof and a bench, its glass walls speckled with droplets that caught the light like tiny jewels. You recognized it immediately as one of the few stops along your route, though the buses never came often enough to rely on them.

From a distance, the figure standing under the shelter’s roof was striking - a tall man with long, raven-black hair, though one strand of hair spilled to the side, framing his face. He wore dark clothes that resembled some sort of uniform, their edges dampened by the rain, though he seemed largely unbothered by it, his sharp eyes focused on the phone he held in one hand.

The glow of the screen cast a faint light on his face, accentuating his features. He didn’t look up as you drew closer, too absorbed in whatever he was reading or typing.

You hesitated, unsure if you should tell him.

It felt like an awkward thing to point out - that the nearest bus wouldn’t arrive for another two hours. You knew this, of course; you’d lived here all your life, and the unreliable bus schedule was just part of the routine. But there was something about him, this stranger standing so composed in the rain, that made you reluctant to correct him. You didn’t want to come off as rude or condescending, even though he looked far too poised to be ruffled by something so trivial.

With slow, deliberate steps, you moved closer, finally able to get a proper look at the stranger’s face. And then you stopped, caught entirely off guard.

He was beautiful - stunning, even.

His features were sharp but balanced, his skin pale against the wet strands of dark hair framing his face. There was an elegance about him, the kind you’d only ever read about in books, a kind of beauty that seemed out of place in a bus stop on a rainy day in the middle of nowhere.

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you froze, suddenly unsure of yourself. It wasn’t just admiration that stopped you - it was the feeling that he might notice. And he did. The stranger raised his gaze, meeting yours with piercing eyes that made your stomach flip.

You felt as though you’d been caught in the act of something, though you couldn’t quite say what.

"Excuse me…" you began, your voice unsteady, the words slipping out before you could overthink them "From this stop, the next bus will only leave in two hours."

You saw his expression change, his face hardening for just a moment before he glanced at his phone. A flicker of realization crossed his features, followed by the subtle tightening of his jaw. Two hours. You watched him absorb the information, weighing it in the way one might consider an unexpected puzzle piece.

"Which destination are you trying to go to, sir?" you asked tentatively, hoping to soften the atmosphere.

The stranger shifted slightly, his posture still composed, his voice was calm, almost melodic when he replied.

"I was supposed to have transport arranged..." he said, his tone polite and precise "...but it didn’t show up. I’ve been walking this way for a while, trying to get to the nearest railway station." he glanced out at the rain, a resigned smile touching his lips "For now, I’ll just wait until the rain lets up."

Okey, so no formalities.

You bit the inside of your cheek, a twinge of pity blooming in your chest. Maybe it was the tiredness in his eyes, or maybe it was the strange comfort his voice seemed to offer, but something about him made you want to help. You felt yourself faltering, unsure if it was compassion or simply the pull of his presence that made you act.

Taking a small step forward, you hesitated again before speaking.

"I-I would give you my umbrella if I could.." you said shyly, stumbling over the words "but…I could share it with you instead, i-if you’d like. I’m walking that way, anyway." your voice was barely above the rain’s patter, and you glanced up at him nervously, your heart pounding as you waited for his response.

The stranger raised an eyebrow in surprise, his sharp features softening as a smile spread across his face. It wasn’t just any smile - it was warm, affectionate, the kind that could melt away the weight of the rain.

"That’s very kind of you." he said gently, his voice carrying a note of sincere gratitude "But are you sure? I wouldn’t want to trouble you."

You nodded quickly, almost stumbling over your own reply "It’s not a problem at all." you said, your cheeks heating despite the cool rain.

He stepped closer then, the movement calm and deliberate.

"May I hold the umbrella?" he asked, his voice steady but tinged with the kind of humor that made you feel at ease.

You blinked at him, caught off guard by his earnestness. Then, in a burst of nervous laughter, you blurted out "This isn’t some elaborate plan to steal it, is it?"

He chuckled in response, the sound rich and unhurried, with a warmth that made your heart skip "I promise you, I’m not that desperate. Though I must admit, it’s quite a fine umbrella."

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, a little more freely this time "All right." you said, handing it over "No running off with it, right?"

His smile widened, and he inclined his head in mock solemnity "You have my word."

As he took the umbrella from you, he glanced at the bag in your hand "That looks heavy." he said, his tone still gentle "May I carry it for you? It’s the least I can do."

You blinked, surprised by his offer "Y-you don’t have to." you said quickly, though the weight of the bag was starting to bite into your shoulder.

"I’d like to." he replied softly, his voice full of tact and patience. He met your gaze with an earnestness that left you speechless for a moment "Let me repay your kindness in some way."

Before you could overthink it, you handed him the bag, watching as he slung it over his shoulder with ease. He took the umbrella from your hand as well, holding it high enough to shield you both.

"Thank you." you murmured, feeling your cheeks flush again.

He smiled down at you, his presence at once intimidating and comforting "It’s the least I can do."

You fell into step beside him, careful to keep your hands close to your chest to avoid brushing against him by accident. The umbrella bobbed slightly as you walked, its surface dappled with countless raindrops that caught the dim light filtering through the trees.

His shoulder brushed yours occasionally, and each time, you felt a jolt of awareness that made you press your hands tighter together.

The rain continued its steady symphony, the forest growing deeper and darker around you. For a while, neither of you spoke, the quiet punctuated only by the soft rustle of leaves and the rhythmic tap of rain against the umbrella. Yet, despite the silence, the atmosphere felt warm, a shared sense of understanding hanging in the air.

The proximity of this stranger, his presence just inches from you, made your skin prickle. Your attempt to edge further away left your shoulder and arm exposed to the rain’s relentless assault, cold water trailing down your skin. You shivered involuntarily.

He noticed immediately. Without a word, he adjusted his stance, stepping slightly out from under the umbrella’s reach, allowing more rain to fall on himself. Then, with an effortless, almost graceful motion, he raised his elbow, lifting the umbrella higher in a silent gesture of encouragement. The movement was subtle but clear, his expression calm, his eyes soft as they flickered to you.

"Please, come closer." he said gently, his voice steady but filled with warmth "You’re getting soaked. That’s not good."

The simple suggestion caught you off guard. Your heart fluttered in your chest, a mix of embarrassment and warmth. You felt your cheeks begin to burn, a blush rising that had nothing to do with the summer rain.

"I-I’m fine!" you stammered, the words tumbling out unconvincingly "I don’t want to invade your personal space."

He tilted his head slightly, his long raven-black hair shifting with the movement. A polite smile curved his lips, one that carried both reassurance and a trace of quiet amusement.

"I wouldn’t ask if I minded." he said, his voice as soothing as the patter of rain around you "But I won’t push." slowly, he lowered his hand, letting the umbrella dip back to its previous position.

You hesitated, a tangle of emotions swirling inside you. Embarrassment, nervousness, and something softer - an inexplicable pull that made it hard to look away from him. His behavior was so composed, so gentlemanly. The way he moved, every gesture precise yet natural, left an impression. His politeness was disarming, his patience soothing, and yet his presence was almost overwhelming.

Your gaze flicked over him again, taking in the details you’d been too shy to linger on before.

His profile was sharp, his jawline defined, the curve of his lips soft and poised in a way that seemed almost practiced. His eyes, when they turned to glance at the rain-soaked path ahead, were striking - a light amber that seemed to hold a quiet intensity, like they noticed more than they let on. The line of his nose was elegant, his skin smooth and pale, save for the faint shadows under his eyes that hinted at sleepless nights.

He radiated a quiet confidence, the kind that didn’t demand attention but drew it effortlessly nonetheless. But also some kind of laziness, like some kind of easiness, that was calming and reassuring. His voice, when he spoke, was enveloping, each word seeming to hang in the air just a second longer than necessary. It was a voice you could listen to for hours, soothing yet alluring in a way that made your heart quicken.

You wondered if you should get closer. Your shoulder was getting more and more wet, which was an added encouragement to get closer to this absolutely handsome man.

It's just sharing one umbrella.

Finally, you exhaled softly, giving in to the pull you couldn’t quite resist.

With slow, uncertain steps, you moved closer, slipping your hand between his arm and his side. The warmth of his body was immediate, a stark contrast to the cool dampness of the rain. You felt the firm strength of his forearm beneath your fingers, the contours of muscle that you hadn’t expected but now couldn’t ignore.

Your fingers pressed lightly against his arm, and you bit your lip, heat spreading through your cheeks even more. It was impossible not to notice how solid he felt, how steady. You dared a glance up at him, hoping for some sort of reassurance, but he wasn’t looking at you. His gaze was focused ahead, his expression calm and unreadable, though there was a faint curve to his lips, almost as if he were holding back a smile.

The moment felt absurdly intimate, and your mind raced with thoughts you couldn’t quiet. The way he held the umbrella so steadily, the ease with which he carried your bag, the slight tilt of his head as he kept an eye on the path ahead - it all made you hyperaware of the closeness between you.

For a brief moment, you wondered if anyone passing by would mistake you for a couple. The thought sent a fresh wave of heat to your face.

Are you not dreaming too much?

His voice broke the silence after a moment, soft and steady "Comfortable?" he asked, glancing down at you briefly.

The question sent your heart racing again, though there was nothing teasing in his tone - just genuine care "Y-yeah." you managed, though your voice wavered slightly.

His eyes softened, and the faintest trace of a smile touched his lips "Good." he said simply, his gaze returning to the path.

Walking like this, hand in hand with this beautiful stranger, felt surreal. You tried to focus on the rain, the trees, anything other than the growing warmth in your chest. But it was impossible not to notice every detail - the curve of his lips when he smiled, the faint sparkle of raindrops caught in his dark hair, the steadiness of his voice whenever he spoke. It all left you feeling utterly unmoored, caught in a moment that was both ordinary and extraordinary, with no idea where it might lead.

The rain continued to fall in soft, persistent waves, the sound of it soothing as it mingled with the rhythmic crunch of your footsteps on the wet gravel path.

"Are you coming back from work?" he asked, the words floating gently between you.

Your thoughts snagged on the word, circling back to the weight of your day. The rain, the walk, the shopping - it had been such a long day that the details of work already felt distant, blurred by the rhythm of the journey home.

Noticing your brief silence, the stranger glanced at you, his expression open and polite "Ah - was that too personal?" he asked, his tone softening with genuine consideration "I didn’t mean to pry."

You shook your head quickly, flustered by his tactfulness "No, not at all." you reassured him, your voice a little breathy as you hurried to fill the space "I was just…thinking. Yes, I’m coming back from work."

He nodded slightly, a faint, encouraging smile tugging at his lips. Something about his attentiveness made it easy to keep talking, so you did.

"I work at the local library." you said, your voice growing steadier as the words tumbled out "I run classes with the kids from the nearby school sometimes. You know, little activities - arts and crafts, storytelling, that sort of thing." you smiled faintly at the thought, picturing the chaos of sticky fingers and mismatched crayons that usually accompanied your sessions "I also run an art club there, and…sometimes I help a friend in his flower shop. It’s not really a job, just something I do to help out."

He tilted his head slightly, his golden eyes watching you with quiet curiosity as you spoke. When you finished, he nodded again, as if considering your words carefully before speaking.

"That sounds fulfilling." he said finally, his voice carrying a note of admiration "You must be good with children."

You laughed softly "H-hah.. Well.. They can be a handful, but…yes, I like it. It’s nice to see their creativity come alive. I guess you get used to the chaos after a while."

His smile deepened slightly, and you caught the faintest glint of amusement in his eyes "I can imagine." he said.

Wanting to turn the attention away from yourself, you hesitated for only a moment before asking "What about you? Where do you work?"

He smiled again, this time with a touch more ease "I’m a teacher!" he said simply "I work with teenagers in high school. My friend and I - someone I’ve known since my school years - we both teach there."

The way he said it, with just the faintest trace of fondness, made you smile too. There was something reassuring about the way he spoke of his friend, a subtle warmth that hinted at years of trust and shared experiences. It made him seem…steadfast.

You glanced up at him shyly "Do you like it? Teaching, I mean."

His answer came without hesitation, his voice soft yet certain "It’s difficult." he admitted, a thoughtful look crossing his face "Teenagers require a lot of attention, and…a lot of patience." he glanced at you briefly, the faintest curve of his lips returning "You probably know what I mean. You work with children too."

You nodded, returning his smile "I do, but…I think teenagers would be a whole different challenge."

"They are." he said with a light chuckle, his deep voice carrying the faintest note of weariness. Then, as if to counter it, he added "But I wouldn’t trade it for anything else. It’s not always easy, but…it feels right. Like I’m where I’m supposed to be."

His words struck you in a way you hadn’t expected. There was something deeply genuine about the way he spoke, an unshakable confidence in his choice of work. It made you pause, your gaze lingering on him as your thoughts wandered.

You studied him quietly for a moment, considering his features again with fresh perspective. His composure, the way he carried himself, the gentle tact in his words - it all seemed to fit perfectly with the image of a teacher. You could picture him in a classroom, standing before rows of students, his sharp eyes softening as he patiently explained something. His presence, so calm yet commanding, seemed tailor-made for guiding others.

You realized you were staring and quickly looked away "You seem…well, like you’re made for it." you said quietly, hoping the compliment didn’t sound too forward.

He glanced at you, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before his smile softened.

"That’s kind of you to say." he murmured, his voice as warm and steady as ever.

But... there was curiosity in your head.

You wanted to ask what he was doing here, in a small town that offers little except rural peace and quiet. You didn't know what he could even do here. However, you didn't want to be nosy, so you sidestepped the question, leaving silence.

Perhaps he was visiting someone or had an errand to run here?

The dark embrace of the forest began to loosen its grip as you emerged into a wide clearing, where the rain seemed to soften just a little. The shift was almost imperceptible at first, but with each step, the oppressive weight of the dense trees gave way to the open expanse ahead.

Fields stretched out on either side of the path, their crops swaying slightly in the breeze. Droplets bounced off the umbrella with a little more delicacy.

The silence between you and the stranger was not awkward but companionable, like the quiet that comes with a shared understanding. The air felt fresh, cleansed by the rain, carrying with it the faint earthy scent of wet soil and the sweetness of grass. You let your gaze wander over the scenery, taking in the rolling hills in the distance, dotted with clusters of trees and lined with distant hedges. The outline of your small town was barely visible ahead, its railway station like a speck on the horizon, still far off but reassuring in its presence.

The stranger’s voice broke the silence, low and calm "It’s beautiful here." he said, his tone soft, almost contemplative "Fields like this, the hills… It’s peaceful."

You turned your head slightly, catching the way his eyes lingered on the landscape, his expression relaxed but thoughtful. There was something about the way he spoke - simple, understated - that made you feel the weight of his words. His appreciation for the scene seemed genuine, unhurried, and you found yourself smiling without thinking.

"It is." you agreed quietly, glancing out at the fields "You don’t really notice it sometimes, not when you see it every day." he hummed softly in response, a thoughtful sound that didn’t demand more words.

Without realizing when or how, you found yourself speaking again, your voice spilling into the stillness as easily as water flowing over stones. You talked about your friend from the flower shop, recounting little quirks and habits that made you laugh. You shared snippets of life in your small town, anecdotes about the library and the children who always managed to surprise you with their boundless creativity.

He listened attentively, nodding occasionally, his faint smile encouraging you to continue. At one point, you glanced up at him and noticed the slight tilt of his head, the way his eyes softened as he listened, as though he was genuinely invested in every word you said. The realization made you feel oddly self-assured, your initial shyness melting away as the conversation grew.

Eventually, you turned the question back to him, asking about his life, curious about what kind of life this composed, enigmatic stranger led.

"I teach in Tokyo." he said, his voice carrying a faint note of wistfulness "It’s…different. Busier, louder. There’s always something happening, but it’s not without its charm."

You say that most of your friends moved to the city after graduation.

So he went on to talk about his friend, the one he had mentioned earlier.

"He’s…energetic." he said with a small chuckle "And very teasing. Honestly, he’s the best person I’ve ever met, but don’t tell him I said that - he’d never let me live it down."

You laughed at that, charmed by the small glimpse of his life.

He shared a few anecdotes about their time teaching together, little moments of chaos or hilarity that had unfolded in the classroom. The way he spoke about his students and his work confirmed what you had already suspected - he was dedicated, thoughtful, and quietly passionate about what he did.

In return, you found yourself sharing even more stories from your own life. You recounted small, funny moments - like the time you had accidentally herded a neighbor's chickens into your yard, thinking they were lost, only to have the neighbor laugh and tease you for trying to "adopt" them. Or the summer afternoon when you and a group of friends decided to build a raft out of old planks and rope to sail across the pond, only to have it sink halfway through, leaving everyone soaked and laughing.

You both laughed easily, the sound mingling with the rain as it continued to fall lightly around you. The conversation flowed effortlessly, like a stream winding its way through familiar terrain. His presence, which had initially been a little intimidating, now felt warm and grounding, like a steady current guiding you forward.

At one point, you ventured to ask if he had a family, expecting perhaps a brief mention of siblings or a spouse. Instead, what he shared left you momentarily speechless.

"I have two daughters" he said suddenly, his voice soft and contemplative.

You blinked, caught off guard "You…you have kids?" the surprise evident in your voice. He looks quite young.

He nodded, glancing at you briefly before his gaze returned to the path ahead "They’re both in their teens now. I adopted them when I was just a little older than they are now - barely finished with school myself. They didn’t have anyone else... and I couldn’t imagine leaving them to fend for themselves."

The revelation left you momentarily speechless. You turned to look at him, truly look at him, as if the weight of what he’d just said needed a second to settle.

"That’s…incredible." you finally managed, your voice quieter than before, in awe "I can’t even imagine taking on that kind of responsibility at such a young age. You must have sacrificed so much."

He offered you a faint smile, one tinged with a mixture of humility and pride "It wasn’t easy." he admitted "But they’re everything to me. They’ve shaped my life in ways I can’t even begin to explain."

You couldn’t help but picture it - this tall, composed man stepping into a role that most would shy away from, shaping not just his own future but that of two young lives. It was admirable, truly.

"What are they like?"

He smiled again, this time with a warmth that softened his sharp features "Oh, they’re full of life, though very different from each other. One’s quieter, more reflective - she is very fond of plushies and all similar crafts using yarn. The other is…well, let’s just say she keeps me on my toes. She’s fearless in a way I never was. She loves photography and good food."

You simply nodded.

"I think they would enjoy your art classes. The way you talk about it makes me want to visit it myself." he added after a moment.

"You think so?" you asked with shiny eyes.

He nodded with a tender smile "Absolutely. They love anything that lets them express themselves. Art, storytelling… They’re always asking questions, wanting to understand more about the world. I think they’d have enjoyed listening to you. You have that…spark."

The compliment made your cheeks warm, and you quickly glanced away, focusing instead on the sights around you.

The conversation shifted naturally to other topics. You spoke about the world, exchanging thoughts about the small joys and challenges of everyday life. You found yourself opening up more, sharing little pieces of your own mind and heart.

As the rain finally stopped, he closed the umbrella with a soft click, holding it casually at his side. You expected him to move away then, to reclaim the space between you, but instead, he stayed close. His hand remained loosely linked with yours, his warmth still a steady presence beside you.

The world around you seemed to exhale, the fields and trees glistening with a fresh sheen as the last droplets clung to leaves and blades of grass. The sky above remained a soft, pale gray, the kind of color that hinted at the sun’s return but didn’t quite promise it yet.

With each step, the railway station came closer into view, its outline growing sharper against the backdrop of the hills. But the approaching destination only made you more aware of the fleetingness of the moment. You felt a pang of something you couldn’t quite name, a mix of gratitude and reluctance, as though part of you wanted to stay in this quiet, rain-kissed world just a little longer.

The train station finally came into view, small and modest, with its quaint stop marked by a weathered sign bearing the name of the town.

Just beyond, on one of the intersecting streets, you noticed a sleek black car with tinted windows. It stood out starkly against the quaint, rural charm of the area.

Leaning casually against the side of the car was a tall man - even taller than the stranger next to you, but dressed in a similar uniform. What immediately drew your attention, however, was his unmistakable shock white hair and a black blindfold wrapped around his eyes. His presence was striking, almost aloof, despite the relaxed posture and the wide grin that spread across his face.

"Yo, Suguru!" the white-haired man called out, his voice carrying easily over the distance. His grin widened, impossibly cheeky, as though he found the entire situation endlessly amusing.

Suguru.

So this stranger’s name was Suguru. You repeated it silently to yourself, letting the name settle in your mind. It suited him somehow, elegant and distinct, much like the man himself.

You hadn’t asked, too shy to break the natural flow of conversation earlier, the name rolled around in your mind, attaching itself to the face you had grown so familiar with over the past hour.

As you neared, you hesitated slightly, loosening your hand from his and stepping away to give him space. Suguru’s warmth lingered for a moment before the cool air slipped between you, a quiet reminder that your paths were about to diverge. He stepped forward to meet the white-haired man, who straightened from his casual lean, revealing that he was indeed taller than Suguru by a noticeable margin.

The two men greeted each other with an ease that spoke of years of familiarity. The white-haired man’s smile remained fixed as he raised a brow.

"What took you so long?” he teased, his tone light but carrying an edge of mischief.

Suguru’s expression remained calm, though you caught the faintest flicker of irritation in his eyes "You left me." he said simply, his voice steady but firm "You were supposed to wait."

The white-haired man shrugged nonchalantly, clearly unbothered "I figured you could handle it." he said, waving a hand dismissively "In the meantime I bought some souvenirs!"

Then his grin returned, sharp and teasing "Besides, looks like you found yourself a companion."

At that, Suguru glanced over his shoulder at you, and for a moment, his amber eyes softened. He stepped back toward you, handing over your shopping bag and umbrella with both hands, his movements deliberate and courteous.

"Thank you." he said, his voice kind and sincere, with just a hint of warmth. He bowed slightly, a gesture that felt both formal and personal "For your time, your help, and your kindness."

You felt a flicker of embarrassment under his gaze but managed a small smile in return "I’m glad I could help." you said honestly "And…that you found your transport."

Suguru reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small card, holding it out to you. You accepted it hesitantly, your fingers brushing against his for the briefest moment. Glancing down, you read the text printed neatly on the card.

Geto Suguru Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High School (There was a phone number printed underneath.)

"If you’d like to talk..." Suguru said softly, his tone measured but kind "...or if you see something…unusual, don’t hesitate to call."

Your heart fluttered slightly. His words lingered in the air, their meaning layered with a subtle weight that you couldn’t quite place.

You nodded slowly, your thumb brushing over the edge of the card "Thank you." you said, your voice a little quieter now, tinged with a shy kind of gratitude.

The white-haired man let out an exaggerated grunt from behind Suguru, clearly impatient "Alright, alright, we’re on a schedule here, Suguru! Let’s go!" his voice was teasing, but there was an underlying firmness that suggested he meant it.

Suguru glanced over his shoulder at him, then back at you "Goodbye." he said, bowing slightly once more.

You returned the gesture, bowing politely before straightening up and giving him a small wave "Goodbye." you said softly.

As you turned away, your steps taking you toward the village path, the rain-soaked world around you seemed to glow. The thick gray clouds began to part, their edges gilded by the first rays of sunlight breaking through. The golden light spilled across the fields, painting the wet grass and the distant rooftops with a soft shimmer. You adjusted your shopping bag and umbrella, your figure gradually retreating into the peaceful scenery.

You felt happy and excited to have another conversation with him someday.

Behind you, Suguru watched silently. His soft eyes lingered on your silhouette, his expression unreadable but calm, as if committing the sight to memory. The way you walked - unhurried but purposeful, your damp hair catching the faint glimmer of sunlight - held his attention in a way he didn’t fully understand. There was something quietly remarkable about the moment, about you, and for a fleeting second, he almost considered calling out to you again.

Almost.

From beside him, Satoru nudged him playfully in the ribs, his usual grin tugging at his lips "You’re staring~" he teased, his tone both amused and pointed "Should I be worried? Or are you just enjoying the view?"

Suguru didn’t glance away immediately, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he watched you take another step into the sunlit clearing.

"Just appreciating kindness." he replied, his voice calm but tinged with something softer, almost thoughtful. Then, with a flicker of amusement in his own tone, he added "And a view like that deserves a moment, doesn’t it?"

Satoru let out a dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes behind his blindfold "You’re such a romantic, Suguru. Just don’t go writing poetry about this later, alright?"

Suguru chuckled lightly, finally turning toward the car "Not everything needs words, Satoru." he said, his tone warm with a trace of amusement "Some things just stay with you."

Satoru tilted his head, his grin widening as he opened the car door "Alright, philosopher. Let’s go before I turn into a sap too."

Suguru gave one last glance in your direction, his gaze lingering for a second longer than he intended, before stepping into the car.

As the car rolled away, Suguru found his gaze lingering on the path where you had disappeared, his thoughts quiet but persistent. He wondered, just briefly, what might have happened if he’d stayed a little longer - if there’d been more time to talk, to walk beside you under the clearing sky.

A faint smile tugged at his lips, as he told himself, almost absently, that this wasn’t the last time he’d see you.

© noira-l | all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, modify, or redistirbute my work without permission

[just-jordie-things]

video games - takuma ino

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 10k follower event special! ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

word count: 11.6k warnings: mentions of blood, drinking summary: ino has been infatuated with his non-sorcerer roommate since day one. but he's convinced she couldn't feel the same way. more info: roommate!au, friends to lovers, gojo hits on you but it's for the greater good ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ it’s you, it’s you, it’s all for you // everything i do // i tell you all the time, heaven is a place on earth with you // tell me all the things you wanna do ]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

How Takuma Ino ended up with a non-sorcerer roommate wasn’t as interesting of a story as his colleagues always thought it would be when they’d first find out.  They were always so eager for the details- was she his girlfriend? Did she know about his career and lifestyle? Was she cute? How did they meet?- and even though Ino would often laugh sheepishly and duck his head to hide his smile, the truth just wasn’t that exciting.

The truth was that as fun as being a jujutsu sorcerer was, it didn’t pay well.  So he needed a roommate in order to better afford rent.  One ad led to another, and soon (y/l/n) (y/n) was showing up asking for a tour.  It only took one visit for her to decide to move in, and they’ve been roommates for the better part of a year now.

Ino always leaves out the part where he didn’t believe she’d actually agree to join the lease with him- when she’d shown up at his door he figured she’d only asked for a tour to be polite.  In his mind there was just no way that a young woman as beautiful and hard working in her field needed a roommate- much less some random dude like him.  She’d been so friendly and easy going upon their first meeting and they seemed to click just right, so she’d shook his hand and set a move-in date that very day.  When she’d left, Ino had collapsed on his sofa with a beer and a bewildered laugh to himself.  Even now, he’s not sure how he managed to make it happen.

“You wanna order chinese? I don’t feel like cooking” 

(y/n’s) call from the other side of the room drew him out of his thoughts, and he glanced over the back of the couch to see her rummaging through the pantry.  Logic reared it’s head, reminding him that they’d just bought groceries so they should probably save the money and eat at home tonight.

But then she gave him that hopeful little smile that he couldn’t help but return before nodding his head.  Logic never won in a battle against something (y/n) wanted.

“Sure” He agrees through his smile.

By the time she’s dressed in her comfy lounging clothes, he’s already called their usual place and made an order.  He’d long since memorized her go-to order and was usually the one put in charge of calling.  He never minded.  How could he complain when everything about their situation was just so perfect? 

The roommate of his dreams, she was.  Tidy, quiet, a great cook, and one of the most pleasant people he’s ever gotten to know, Ino truly believed he struck gold when (y/n) answered his ad.  So even when his colleagues teased him for his living situation, he could hardly care.

And tease him they did.  Gojo was the main assailant.  Often joking about how strong Ino must feel all the time, being in the presence of a weak non-sorcerer human.  How she must think he was some superhero compared to all the lame human men she’d meet at her job or through her friends.  How Ino must be so lucky to have a young lady as his roommate.   Still, no matter how much he messed around, Ino knew that there was no harm in Gojo’s words.  And he also knew that if he’d actually met (y/n), he’d shut his ignorant mouth.

Nanami didn’t invest himself too much in Ino’s private life, he was simply respectful and reserved like that, but on occasion he’d been known to ask about his roommate.  Mostly situational to their occupation- such as what she thought of the nasty cuts and bruises he’d come home with- but once in a blue moon he’d make a comment suggesting it was only a matter of time before one of them developed feelings.  Ino always flustered under the light of those questions and found a way to avoid them.

In the few times throughout his week that he’d cross paths with Shoko, she always made a point to ask about his roommate.  Which was sort of odd, seeing as her work in the infirmary didn’t make them the closest of colleagues, but at first the casual conversation was welcomed.  But it was only a matter of time before she, too, would begin pestering him about making a move on her.

They all seemed to have the same underlying message.  How could you share a living space with someone and not catch feelings for them? And Ino spent a lot of his time and energy trying to convince them that it simply wasn’t like that.  Just because they both happened to be single, and close friends, and sharing a small two bedroom apartment, didn’t mean that romantic feelings were bound to happen.  They were both adults, they could live in such a situation and keep their hands and hearts to themselves.

He was a liar, though.

Takuma Ino had fallen completely, head over heels in love with his roommate, and there was no chance of him ever getting over that feeling.

It had taken relatively no time for the feelings to develop.  Shortly after her moving in, she’d made an effort to be close to him.  There wasn’t a moment where he felt like she wanted space or privacy away from him.  She often offered to help him cook, or invited him grocery shopping with her, or out to a movie she wanted to see, and a fast friendship blossomed.  The way she always reached out to include him had him swooning in no time.

Coffee runs, movie nights, and frequent texting throughout their days before they both came home all snowballed into one undeniable truth.  He was falling in love with her.

When Ino had first realized that’s what was happening when his heart would leap out of his chest when she’d scoot close to him on the couch so they could share a blanket while they watched a movie or played a game together, he’d tried to bury it.  Because surely his mind was just playing tricks on him.  Surely he was just excited that a pretty and kind girl like her wanted to be so close to him, and his feelings were strictly platonic.

But then he found himself relaxing just from the smell of her shampoo wafting close to him.  He realized that when he would come home from a late assignment and she’d be waiting for him that his heart was skipping a beat because it was just so perfectly domestic.  He couldn’t deny it for too long at all, not when she so sweetly saved him the leftovers from her dinner and would heat it up for him while he showered and de-stressed from the particularly rough assignment.

The only problem was that he knew she didn’t feel the same way, and he’d been struggling to keep his true feelings hidden.  From her, and from his pesky fellow sorcerers.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

(y/n) hated when Ino came home late from his assignments.

Not because the squeak door woke her up, or because it meant she was alone taking care of the evening chores.  It was simply because she’d stay up every time, too consumed with anxiety to go to sleep without knowing he’d returned safe and sound.

Which, in all fairness, he always did.  He always came home, and most of the time he’d shoot her a message saying he’d wrapped up with work and was on his way- even when it was one in the morning- like tonight.

She waited up on the couch, wrapped up in a fluffy blanket with the title screen of a movie she’d watched hours ago playing it’s intro for the thousandth time.  In all fairness she knew he could handle himself, and he’d never not come home, or come back with life threatening injuries.

That didn’t mean he didn’t come back hurt, and that didn’t mean she wouldn’t fuss over him, every single time.

And tonight when he finally stumbles into the apartment, just as the clock ticks past two, she’s practically gnawing at her nails as she rushes towards him.

Despite the way he limps, and there’s blood trickling out of his nose, he gives her a smile, and he’s the first to worry.

“It’s late, you should be in bed” He scolds without any real threat to his words.  This routine had established itself months ago, and he knew damn well that she wouldn’t get a wink of sleep until she knew he was safely returned home.

Still, he worried about something as silly as her sleep schedule every time.

“Shut up” Is all (y/n) mumbles, beckoning him further into their apartment, until he’s following her to the bathroom.  

She’s faster than him, pulling out the well loved first aid kit and getting everything prepped and ready on the counter while he slowly staggers in behind her.  It was practically the same scene every time he came home like this.  No matter how beat up he was- with a mere scratch or bloodied to a pulp- she was forcing him to sit down on the lid of the toilet seat so she could tend to his injuries herself.

Ino wasn’t sure if it was for her own well being and comfort, knowing that she’d taken care of him and none of his injuries would get infected.  Or if maybe she just didn’t trust him to take care of them himself, maybe she knew that his idea of first aid was slapping a hello kitty band aid on it and calling it a night.

(There was one instance a few months ago where he’d left a hello kitty band aid on the back of his hand that she’d so lovingly placed there, and Gojo didn’t let him hear the end of it for the entire day.  Not that Ino minded.  Every time he caught a glimpse of the pink band aid it brought a smile to his face remembering how gentle she’d been covering the cut underneath, how her thumb had stroked over the sticker so lightly to ensure it was well placed and would do the trick.  He left that band aid on his hand for as long as he could before eventually it lost his adhesive and in turn he lost it)

Either way, he never tried to talk her out of tending to him.  Even when he knew it was too late for her to be staying up just to clean up some silly injuries that were nothing compared to the things that Shoko healed with her Reverse Cursed Technique- but he’d never tell (y/n) about the broken bones or brushes with death.  He’d just keep his mouth shut and sit on that toilet seat while she soaked a cotton pad in antiseptic and gently dabbed at the cuts on his arm.

“Sorry” 

She’d mumble the apology every time she’d make first contact with the injury, knowing how the alcohol tended to sting.  And every time, Ino would give her a small smile and tell her it was alright.

“How was your day?” He hummed as she continued to clean up the few cuts on his arms.  She had his sleeve rolled all the way up and tucked carefully at his shoulder so it wouldn’t be a hindrance.  She hummed thoughtfully before shrugging a shoulder.

“Pretty boring, nothing of note,” She murmured back truthfully.  “Until now” She adds, her eyes meeting his just so he’d catch the hint of reprimand in her tone.

Ino can’t help but chuckle to himself, he’d forever be amused by the way she worries over him.  She may have been new to the world of jujutsu sorcery, but it never failed to humor him how she’d fuss and worry over such minor injuries.  Injuries that Shoko wouldn’t treat even if Ino walked into the infirmary and begged for it.  Surely he’d be laughed at.

“So you’re saying I’m the highlight?” He teases quietly, and (y/n) rolls her eyes, but doesn’t deny it.  She chooses the safe route and keeps her focus on her handiwork.  He still laughs at her obvious non-answer.  “Work was alright, though?” 

“I suppose,” She answers.  “Got home early because some people in my department were going out and convinced my boss to join, so they let us all leave early.  That was nice” 

Ino gave her a small frown, but it went unnoticed.

“How come you didn’t go?” 

Her eyes briefly flicker up to his, and she purses her lips before shrugging her shoulders in a small movement.

“Wasn’t really in the mood,” She says, and it’s not a total lie, but she averts her eyes shortly after, reaching out to the first aid kit on the counter again.  She fishes around a bit before finding the package of square shaped band aids.  “Besides, I didn’t know when you’d be back” She added.

It deepens his frown, but she’s completely avoiding his gaze now.  He expects as much, seeing as he’s had this conversation with her before.  He encourages her to go out with her friends more, or make new friends at work to hang out with, and she always has an excuse at the ready.  Sometimes her reasoning was decent, but most of the time it was obvious she came up with them on the spot, and it made his heart sink.

Of course he wanted her around all the time, pushing her away was absolutely a struggle for him, but Ino knew that if they continued only spending time with one another, then his feelings would never go away.  It would be hard, but tremendous help if she made a new best friend, or better yet a boyfriend, and then he’d have to get over her, he was sure.

“You shouldn’t avoid your friends cause of me,” He tells her quietly.  “It’s late, you could’ve gone out… if you wanted to” 

After placing a band aid on his skin and smoothing down the corners so it stayed intact, she glanced up at him.  A small knot formed between her brows before she cracked a goofy smile.

“They’re not my friends, Ino,” She chuckles at him.  “They’re coworkers.  I see them plenty enough, I don’t need to hang out with them outside of work- where we would probably still only talk about work” 

As far as excuses went, it was a pretty damn good one.  So this time he gave in, smiling and nodding back at her in understanding.

“Guess that’s fair,” He mumbles, and she laughs quietly again as she opens up another band aid.  “I just… I dunno, I don’t want you missing out of stuff, that’s all” 

“I think I’m old enough to decide what I want to do with my time,” She teases, her cheeks warming at the insinuation in her admission.  “If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be” 

His heart skips a beat, and as lovely as the feeling is when his stomach flips, Ino wishes she wouldn’t say stuff like that.  It gave his heart the wrong idea, and it was hard to fight with his heart.  He was convinced his brain just wasn’t strong enough to fight the delusion.

“So your ideal night is patching up this idiot, huh?” He wiggles his eyebrows at her in that way that always makes her laugh, and she does, bubbly and sweet, and again his stomach does a flip.  Making her laugh always brightened him up completely.  Like a video game character maxing out his health bar.

“I think I would’ve made a great doctor” She teases back, shaking the box of band aids at him before carefully tucking them back in their spot in the first aid kit.

“You don’t even give me lollipops, how could you say that?” Ino retorts in mock offense- although it would make these little patch up sessions even better if he was rewarded with her close proximity and candy, but he’d accept one sweet thing at a time.

“Shut up,” She says through her giggles, finally closing up the whole kit.  “You’re lucky I don’t do any of the scary stuff.  I’ll leave that for your sorcerer friends” 

“Eh, it might come to that,” Ino shrugs.  He stays seated as she puts the small case back into it’s spot in the cabinet, lingering in her space for however long she’ll let him.  “Shoko will probably get tired of me eventually, you know.  How comfortable are you with stitches?” 

The grin on his face is nothing short of teasing- and he knows he should stop.  He knows that eventually the lines get blurry and he’s not sure how much his teasing is starting to blend into flirting, and with how playful her nature is she’s never afraid to dish it back.  Not once had she reacted in an uncomfortable manner to something he’s said, but that only makes it harder for him to draw that line in the sand.

(y/n) shuts the cabinet and turns to him with her hands on her hips.  A serious look flashes across her expression that he can’t tell if it’s meant to be in humor or if she’s actually about to drop the playful atmosphere.  With a step towards him, she leans over so her height matches his, and they’re face to face.

“Takuma Ino,” She declares, eyes boring into his with an intensity that makes him gulp down on air.  “Unless you want some really funky looking scars, don’t go asking me to stitch you up.  Leave it to your magic friends” 

His anxious expression drops as he breaks into a smile, amused by her choice of words, and her own face softens as she smiles back at him.  It was infectious, the way he smiled.  It could get her to crack even when she was really trying to be stubborn.  A secret weapon of his that (y/n) was pretty sure he used on purpose, but there were some instances she could be convinced that he had no clue of this power.

“My magic friends, huh?” He repeats with a smirk.  

He’d definitely have to tell Gojo about that one when he saw him next.  Surely it would feed into his ego, if not make him cackle.

(y/n) stands up again, her cheeks suddenly feeling a little too warm, before she spins around and heads out of the bathroom.  Finally, Ino stands, stretching his sore limbs and checking over the array of bandages on his arm before following after her.

“Or better yet, just don’t get yourself hurt anymore” (y/n) adds, her back turned to him as she makes her way towards her room.

“Oh wow, I hadn’t thought of that” He shot back in a mocking voice.  He knows she rolls her eyes, even if he can’t see.

“Just sayin’, why don’t you work on that technique where stuff doesn’t touch you? Like that one guy?” 

He has to bite his cheek to keep himself from breaking out into a fit of laughter.  She was trying her best to understand how jujutsu worked, even if she was a little off the mark.  There was also something so rewardingly funny about someone not remembering who Gojo Satoru was- even if she’d never met the guy.

“Not exactly how it works,” He replies.  (y/n) turns to him as she stands in the middle of her doorway.  Her tiredness is more evident now in the way she leans against it and blinks slowly back at him.  “Pretty sure I gotta stick with the one I was born with”  

She hums, pursing her lips as she tries to recall all of his explanations for the finicky sorcerer world.  But her mind is foggy with exhaustion and she’s getting a little too swept up in how softly his brown eyes gaze at her, so she shakes her head and finally turns towards her room.

“Noted,” She tells him, knocking twice on her frame before grabbing the handle of her door and pulling it behind her.  “G’night Ino” 

His heart warms as he bids her goodnight, and he lingers in the empty apartment for a few more seconds before making his way into his own bedroom.  

Every minute spent with her felt special and worth basking in, even when nothing significant happened, even when it was a completely normal night.  Just being around her was enough for his insides to melt into a buttery mess.

When he goes to sleep, he hopes to see her in his dreams, where he doesn’t have to feel anxious or guilty about his feelings, and he can be with her freely, without a care in the world.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“There’s gonna be this… work thing… next weekend,” 

He brings it up out of nowhere, although he’s spent a while trying to find a way to say it, he actually blurts it out in the middle of the two of them watching a movie.  So it’s not actually surprising when (y/n) turns towards him with a puzzled look on her face, already reaching for the remote to pause the movie.

Tonight she sits close enough that with his arm strewn across the back of the couch, it could almost feel like they were cuddled up together.  Even though they’re not touching- unless you counted the stray hairs that fell from her claw clip and brushed his arm behind her head.

“If you wanted to come, anyways,” Ino clears his throat uncomfortably, suddenly feeling a little more on the spot with the movie stopped and her full attention on him.  “Gojo’s hosting, said anyone can come, I- I don’t have that many details yet, but, um, I’ll probably go, since Nanami said he was-” 

“And I’m allowed to go?” She ends his suffering with her question, her brows raising in shock.

“Allowed?” Ino repeats the choice of word, followed by a short chuckle.  “Of course you are, why do you say it like that?” 

“I dunno,” Her shoulders shrug limply, although she knows exactly why she asks.  “Cause… I’m not like you, I guess” 

Ino’s never given too much thought to their differences.  Besides when he’d realized he’d have to tell her the truth about his career, and they had spent hours on this very sofa while he explained the complicated history of jujutsu, and the ins and outs of curses and cursed techniques.  She’d had her uncertainties, and endless questions, but after that talk, the stark differences in the lives they led outside of this apartment rarely came up.  He could almost say it didn’t matter, but he didn’t want to diminish either of their careers.

Now, as he watches her begin to curl up like she was trying to shrink into herself, his heart falls a little bit.  Did she really feel like she didn’t deserve an invite? Just because she was a non-sorcerer? In his eyes, it certainly didn’t make her any less of a person.  He could almost laugh.  How could a person like her feel that way? Someone so good hearted, hard working, brilliant, gorgeous- 

“Ino?” She presses forward, drawing him out of his derailed train of thoughts.  He blinks a few times as he comes back to the present moment.

“I want you to come” He says, feeling much bolder than he had when he first brought the subject up.

Now she’s blinking back at him wordlessly, eyes going round and a smile tugging at her lips.

“You do?” She asks, just to be sure, even though there’s not a doubt in her mind that he means it, with how genuine and hopeful his expression is.  Warmth blooms in her face, and she hopes that her blush isn’t too embarrassing.

It’s not.  Ino finds it utterly adorable, and quite endearing.

“Yeah,” He affirms with a nod of his head, before pushing a hand through his hair to pull it away from his face.  “I want you to meet everyone.  And I want them to finally meet you, too.  If you want to, that is” 

Her smile widens a little further as she nods back at him, the movement jittery and short, displaying her eagerness in it’s fullest.

“Sounds fun.  I’d love to,” She says softly.  Ino lights up with excitement, sitting up a little straighter as he beams at her.

However, before he can reach for the remote and start their movie up again, she snatches it away, a curious expression crossing her features as she studies him.

“But what do you mean finally, hm?” She muses, the question only half-playful.  Curiosity did get the best of her after all.  “Have they been dying to meet me or something?” 

He makes a face at her that makes her laugh, her eyes lighting up as his expression alone confirms what she’d been thinking.

“Have you been talking about me to your coworkers, Ino?” She teases, her grin practically splitting her face.

“Don’t be an idiot, of course I do,” He tries to play it off, reaching out for the remote again, but she pulls her hand away just before he can take it, subsequently having him lean almost fully across her, his arm outstretched towards the object that could free him of this torture.  “(y/n)” He huffs in annoyance, frowning at her when she still doesn’t play the movie.

“Nuh uh,” She says childishly while shaking her head.  “What do you tell them about me?” She presses further.

He wants to roll his eyes, and huff and groan until she’s annoyed into going back to their movie- which had just been starting to get good before he started this whole thing- but he can’t.  He just can’t bring himself to do it.  Not when she’s grinning up at him and he swears he sees an actual sparkle in her eyes.

“C’mon dummy, they know all about you” Again, Ino tries to play it off like it’s not a big deal.  

(As if he hadn’t gone on a long winded story to Nanami just the other day about how he was going to surprise her with a fruit bouquet of mangos on her nearing birthday, because she’d recently become obsessed with the tangy fruit and demanded they picked up the most overpriced ones every time they went to the grocery store.  Nanami had little to know interest in hearing about all the places Ino had researched who make fruit arrangements and how he hadn’t deemed any of them good enough yet) 

“All about me, huh?” She repeats curiously, before humming, content with the response.  

Then she finally pushes play on the remote before dropping it onto the cushion beside her.  Ino sends a silent thank you prayer to whatever greater force was looking out for his dignity, and settles back into his seat.

He swears when (y/n) gets settled, she’s sat just a little bit closer to him.  He’s pretty sure her shoulder wasn’t grazing against his earlier.

They’re a few minutes in before she speaks up again, her voice merely a soft whisper beside him.

“You didn’t have to be all shy about it.  I talk about you at work all the time” 

Ino can barely keep his focus on the whole rest of the movie.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The work event isn’t necessarily a fancy one.  There’s not a dress code, and despite Ino’s worries with Gojo organizing it, it’s not at some five star establishment he couldn’t even afford to look at.  It’s held at a small local restaurant and bar.  

Gojo does, however, rent out the place for the evening, so the only patrons tonight would be those from Jujutsu Tech, and whoever they decide to bring.

Despite it being business casual at most, it still feels like it’s the most dressed up he’s ever gotten for going somewhere with (y/n).  Maybe it’s just his heart working on overdrive after seeing the simple but sleek black dress she’d chosen to wear for the night, paired with a little mesh wrap that was tied in a little bow at her chest and flared at the sleeves for some personality- but as soon as the evening began, Ino was starting to overthink.

“I’ve never been here before,” (y/n) hums as they approach the venue.  “I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this” 

She peeks a glance over at Ino as he’s also admiring the building.  It’s a rather small restaurant, but the architecture has enough character that it’s worth getting a good look at before going inside.  Or maybe he was just stalling where he could.

He looks really nice tonight, she thinks, and the thought instantly makes her heart skip a beat as she takes a few more seconds to look at him.  He’s in dark slacks and a cotton black sweater that looks so soft she’s suddenly dying to pinch the fabric between her fingers to see for herself.  It’s paired with a white collared undershirt for a little extra flair- something she knows she once told him she liked seeing on a man- and without his mask piled up on top of his head his long hair wisps in slight curls around his ears, just barely touching his shoulders.

She knows she’s been staring for too long, but it takes a few tries before she actually pulls her gaze away from him.

“I wasn’t either,” Ino says, and it takes her a minute to remember what she’d even said.  “Knowing Gojo, I was expecting something… worse” 

(y/n) chuckles to herself, before nodding to the door.

“Time to enjoy not worse?” She prompts, and he grins before gesturing for her to follow him inside.

Ino reaches over her shoulder to push the door open, only to follow behind her with a gentle hand on her back guiding her in.  The silk of her dress is so smooth and thin against the light graze of his hand that he can feel the heat of her skin through it, and it takes a mental talk with himself in order to keep him from pressing his hand fully against her back.

She gives him a sweet smile in gratitude, before both of their attention is pulled away by the shrill of cheering amongst the chatter of people in the restaurant.

There weren’t a lot of people- there weren’t many jujutsu sorcerers to begin with- but there were enough to fill the room with a certain level of white noise with background conversation.  All of that was drowned out by a small group of people currently shouting and beckoning Ino and his date over towards them.

Most of the shouting came from Gojo, but Shoko and Utahime seemed to be at just the right amount of intoxicated to join in with loud bouts of laughter.  Nanami is also at the table, politely sipping his drink with a mere nod of greeting as Ino brings (y/n) their way.

“I guess I should have given you some warnings” He says under his breath as they make their way through the slight crowd. 

Most of the managers are grouped together, Nitta giving a friendly wave in passing before going back to a heated argument that made Ino and (y/n) chuckle to themselves.  It lightened some of the tension in (y/n’s) shoulders.  She didn’t want to bother him with her silly anxieties, but she’d been quite worried about showing up to an event full of people who were extraordinary, meanwhile she was merely a salary worker.

Don’t get her wrong, she worked hard and was proud of how quickly she’d moved up in the ranks, but how could she compare that to people with other-worldly abilities? People who actively saved lives? 

“Warnings?” She murmurs, glancing over at him, only to find his gaze already set on her.

“Not- not bad ones, necessarily,” Ino stammered.  “It’s just… Gojo is loud, and nosy, but he’s a good time and he means no harm, promise,” 

(y/n) nods in understanding, eyes flickering back to the table of sorcerers they were currently headed towards.  She had a pretty good idea of which one was Gojo.

“Nanami’s quiet.  He looks judgemental, but he’s not.  Well- maybe a little, but he’s polite.  So.  It’s fine, I don’t have any warnings about Nanami, he’ll like you a lot” 

“Yeah?” A flattered smile spreads across her glossy lips.  It was silly to take pride in being liked by a stranger, but she knew how much Ino looked up to his mentor, and it made her heart flutter to think he believed the man he respected so much would approve of her.

“Absolutely,” Ino’s voice is rich with certainty as he nods at her.  “Shoko’s kind of a weirdo, that’s just cause she works in the morgue all day so her sense of humor is… warped.  Utahime is her not-very-secret girlfriend, I’ve told you about that right?” 

(y/n) nods in confirmation.  She may have never met these people, but she felt like she knew most of them well enough just from the late night gossip sessions they’d have after a shared bottle of wine.

“Any questions?” He asked, slowing their steps the closer they got to the table.  

It was just like Gojo to set his little crew of odd semi-forced friends up in the corner where they could have some privacy, even though they were the loudest bunch of the whole gathering.  At least he had the decency to rent the place out so the only people he was bothering were those he already bothered on a regular basis.

“No,” (y/n) said softly, before reaching out and curling her fingers around the sleeve of his shirt, bringing his attention back towards her.  “Just one request?” 

Ino gives her a small nod, halting in place as he stares at her with a grave seriousness in his eyes.

“Don’t ditch me here?” 

He almost laughs at the ask, but he stops himself when he notes the hints of anxiety hidden in her expression.  The twitch at the corner of her mouth, the slight pinch in her brow.  He clears his throat and nods at her, before grinning widely.

“Of course not!” He declares, squeezing her wrist gently before she drops her hold on his sleeve.  “What do you take me for? A gentleman would do no such thing” 

And as they finally approach the table of Ino’s closest colleagues, they’re both laughing, and some more tension is relieved from her shoulders.

Ino’s quick to introduce her, and he goes around the table to remind her of everyone’s names quickly, trying to get the awkward stage out of the way as quickly as possible.  Everyone behaves well enough, or as well as he could hope for.  Utahime’s a bit excitable as she compliments (y/n’s) dress and sparkling accessories, but it helps to break the ice as the two slip into conversation about their favorite boutiques.

Ino wants to point out that the Kyoto based sorcerer never was one for small talk with him, but he keeps his mouth shut solely because (y/n) warms up to her and Shoko quickly and he doesn’t want to throw a wrench in their bonding.

Gojo’s clearly in the middle of some wild and possibly partially made up retelling about a special grade curse he’d exorcized on a recent assignment, so after introductions he resumes his exaggerated storytelling, giving (y/n) and Ino time to order drinks and chat with Shoko and Utahime a little longer.

“You’re pretty brave for coming,” Shoko points out to (y/n), earning a slight glare from Ino, to which she backtracks and waves her hand dismissively.  “I just mean because this is the worst” 

“I don’t think so” (y/n) shrugs with a sweet smile as she sips her drink.

“You don’t know us that well yet, you’ll change your mind later,” Utahime chimes in.  “This,” She gestures towards Gojo, who’s talking wildly with his hands as he reaches the climax of his story.  “Is why I took off to Kyoto, first chance”

It earns a laugh from Shoko and Ino, so (y/n) forces a small chuckle as well, but so far she couldn’t complain about the company.  Sure, the white haired man wearing sunglasses inside in the evening seemed a bit theatrical and high energy, but it was a party setting, right? So she could give him the benefit of the doubt for now.

“Speaking of-” Shoko gets up from her seat, not so subtly tapping Utahime’s hand, “I need a smoke” 

“Oh, yeah, me too”

Utahime glances at (y/n) and Ino with a raised brow, silently offering them to join, but one look at Shoko’s wide eyes tells them to shake their heads and stay in place.  Even if they did smoke, they were clearly not wanted at this particular break.

Once they’re out of sight, (y/n) turns to Ino, obviously fighting a grin on her face, before she leans in close to talk a little more privately.

“Oh, it’s painfully obvious” 

He laughs back at her, nodding his head in agreement before tapping the rim of his glass against hers.

Their moment is broken up when long limbs stretch across the empty space that Utahime and Shoko had left, and apparently Gojo had wrapped up his story because now he’s slinking towards the two with a coy grin on his face.

“We haven’t been properly introduced, have we?” 

(y/n) fights the urge to stagger backwards as he comes close.  He has a wild sort of energy surrounding him.  He’s intimidating, but not in a way that makes her afraid, just very aware of how large and powerful he is.  She wonders if even a non-sorcerer like her can pick up on signatures of cursed energy, or if this was just his raw aura.

But the way he smiles is inviting and the bubbly giggles that erupt from him provide nothing but a feeling of friendliness, as if he was someone (y/n) had known for years.

“Almost a year” She answers, forcing a smile that she hopes doesn’t come across as awkward as it feels.

“Wow, a whole year!” He cheers, raising his glass at the accomplishment.  “That’s absolutely marvelous.  A whole year, huh?” He repeats it again thoughtfully, tilting his head just slightly.

Ino’s not sure if she’s noticed, but since Gojo approached them, he hadn’t once torn his eyes off of her.  Perhaps she couldn’t tell with the dark shades covering his line of sight, but Ino had gotten quite used to reading Gojo’s body language even with the blockage of a blindfold.  

He also wasn’t a complete dunce, he knew that the way she looked tonight made it difficult for anyone to take their eyes off of her.  Even Utahime had gotten that glazed over look after they talked for long enough.  No one was immune, it seemed, but Gojo was probably the only person in the room that sparked a nasty feeling in Ino’s chest with the way he smirked down at her.

The feeling is a dull heat, only ignited into something worse when Gojo pushes his sunglasses to the top of his head, bright blue eyes on full display, and now so obviously focused on (y/n).

“How does someone go a whole year living with a pretty thing like you and not make a move, hm?” 

Ino’s face twists up with shock and disgust, which humors Gojo as he begins to cackle, but he still doesn’t spare a glance away from (y/n), who barely reacts at all as she stands before them.  She simply tilts her glass around, slowly mixing the ice around her drink.  She doesn’t crack a laugh, but she also doesn’t give any sign that she’s upset with the unabashed flirting.

Neither of them are given the proper chance to respond to the bold comment, as suddenly Nanami’s approaching them, shooting Gojo a look that made the special grade sorcerer head off with some excuse about a fresh drink.

Thankfully, Nanami completely changes the subject of conversation, and Ino does his best to forget about what just happened as (y/n’s) properly introduced to his mentor.  They shake hands, exchange a few pleasantries, but are ultimately quick to jump into conversation about Ino himself- even with him still standing there.  

A lot of the stories they share are more embarrassing than he’d like, but he’s able to stand it for a little while.  For both of them, at least.  They were the most important people in his life after all, he’d been eager for them to finally meet.

But as soon as (y/n) gets Nanami to actually laugh about her first witnessing his cursed technique over an unwanted bug in the apartment, Ino finds himself using the same lame excuse of grabbing them a couple more drinks before he’s darting away from the downright humiliating memory.

(y/n) giggles and doesn’t even indulge Nanami in the story once Ino’s walked away.  She’d just wanted to make him sweat a little, and clearly his mentor had gotten a kick out of it as well.

“He clearly adores you,” Nanami says, cutting through the light hearted atmosphere with a statement so genuine that (y/n’s) features soften as she takes in his words.  “I’ll give him that.  He’s a good sorcerer, and person.  And clearly his judgment is well founded” 

It’s a… distinguished compliment, that’s for sure.  (y/n) finds herself blushing and she can’t even quite explain why.  Was it the compliment itself or the insinuation behind it? Ultimately she decides to play it off due to the slight buzz she was running on.

“I’m certainly lucky to have him,” She says, and just as she glances around the room to see where he’d gone, he’s already heading back towards her with two drinks in his hands.  “I owe a greater force big time for bringing me to him, don’t I?” She murmurs.

She doesn’t look back at Nanami when she speaks, her eyes too focused on the man headed in her direction.  The blonde sorcerer ducks his head and tries to cough over his chuckling.  It’s a pitiful attempt, but judging the glazed over look in her eyes as Ino comes near, he could probably count on her not having noticed his humored state.

“Thank you” She hums when Ino hands her the fresh glass, taking the empty one from her other hand and placing it on an empty table behind him.

“Did I take too long?” He asks, just quiet enough for her to hear.

There’s a look on her face he can’t quite read, but it’s so lovely he couldn’t even be bothered to try to decipher it as he smiles fondly back at her.

Nanami takes a subtle step backwards as he watches them mirror that lovesick look at one another.

“Not at all, I was just getting to know your mentor a little better,” She tells him, gesturing to Nanami, who had now turned and was walking away completely.  “He has very kind things to say about you” 

She tilts her head at him as her smile grows a little wider.  Ino raises a brow back at her, unable to help the small bit of laughter that escapes him as he holds her stare.

“That so?” He hums, growing amused as he realizes she’s just a little bit drunk.  “Are you having a good time?” He asks, and she knows he’s really asking if she’s feeling the alcohol a bit, but she nods back at him anyways, unbothered by the hidden question.

“I am, I’m glad you brought me” 

His smile softens.

“Me too” 

Utahime and Shoko return shortly after, and soon the four of them are seated at one end of the table sharing all sorts of stories, from work to drama to things they definitely didn’t need to share for being new acquaintances, (y/n) hit it off with the pair so well Ino didn’t want to do anything to reel her in.  He was just relieved to see her getting along with the people of that part of his life.

It also helped that throughout the night she seemed to draw closer and closer to him.  Whether they were walking up to the bar and she kept so close their arms brushed together, or when they sat down and she pulled her chair close to his so that when she was leaning into the table she was reaching across his lap and almost completely in his space.  Ino could almost pretend that she was his date for the night.  He’d weakly mustered up the courage to drape his arm over the back of her chair, but that was as much of a leap as he was willing to take.

Not long after though, she raised her empty glass in his direction, and her free hand reached over her shoulder where his hand dangled off her chair, so her fingers could wrap around his.

“Another?” She hums curiously, still swirling the glass in a small circle.

His hand unintentionally twitches when her soft skin brushes over it, and as if on instinct, she slots her fingers between his.

She’s touched him before, of course, it’s not like he’s never had skin-to-skin contact before.  When patching him up, or bumping into each other in the kitchen.  One thing was certain, though… they never held hands.

And she holds his hand now with that pretty smile on her face as she waits for him to answer her question- wait, shit, how long has it been since she asked him that question?

“Yeah, yeah, let’s get another round” He agrees, and carefully slides his chair back before standing, not wanting to bump into hers.

Even when she stands, she keeps her fingers curled between his.  Ino’s not sure if she’s even aware of it- should he pull his hand away? Or perhaps she was just a bit drunk and didn’t want to stumble in her heels- so keeping his hold on her would be the right thing to do, right? 

She gives Shoko and Utahime a cheeky little wave before following beside Ino towards the bar.  Their hands still clasped together between them.  He wonders if she knows that she’s making his heart race at an unhealthy pace.

But she must know, she must realize she’s still holding it, because once they approach the bar and wait for their drinks, she’s lazily swinging their conjoined hands back and forth as she strikes up a conversation with him.

“This is much cooler than any work event I’ve ever gone to,” She tells him.  “It’s always at a chain restaurant, and there’s a socially acceptable amount of drinks you can have” 

Ino chuckles at the slight pout on her face, and finds himself giving into the slight swing of their arms.  “This stuff barely ever happens,” He shrugs.  “Probably because most people can only take Gojo in concentrated amounts,” 

Her eyes are wide as she nods at him in understanding.  In the brief interaction she’d had with the special grade sorcerer, she already completely understood what he meant.

“But if this doesn’t end in disaster and there’s a chance for another one in eight to eighteen months, you’re invited” He teases.

She lights up like a christmas tree, as if he’s just promised her tickets to a sold out tour of her favorite artist, or a seat on the next shuttle to the moon.  Her lips curl into the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen, eyes glimmering with her excitement and honor, and if Ino wasn’t swooning as hard as he was, he might’ve chuckled at the drunken delight.

“Really?” She gushes, eyebrows raising with her hope.  “You will?” 

A breath of a laugh escapes him as he nods, and she rocks on her feet momentarily, too giddy to stand still.  He can’t help but reflect her grin back at her.

They’re handed their drinks, and finally (y/n) pulls her hand out of his.  He tries not to show his disappointment.  Before Ino can think of something clever to say, something that borders the line of teasing and flirting that he’s usually so good at tip-toeing over, someone else joins them at the bar.

Gojo Satoru on a regular day is a menace.  Although Ino didn’t always mind, not like his mentor did.  More often than not, he’d match the energy and get a good laugh in for the day.  But at a work-social event?  Gojo was insufferable.  Ino had already decided this the second he’d decided to hit on (y/n).

Was he irritated for the right reasons? No.  Was he actively trying to get over his feelings for his sweet, perfect, beautiful roommate? Maybe.  Did that mean shit? Absolutely not.

He’s decided that as soon as Gojo purrs out another flirty line- which he’s bound to do judging from the way he’s currently looking at her- that he’s going to take her hand again and drag her away without a word.  His heart starts to race in his chest from the anticipation, knowing that it’s soon to come once Gojo’s done chatting her up about how swell of time she’s having.

As powerful as he was, Gojo Satoru could be a bit predictable.

“You know, I could show you some pretty neat things at Jujutsu Tech if you ever wanted to learn more about sorcery,” He’s good at disguising his propositions as simple acts of kindness.  Ino’s jaw twitches as it tenses, his teeth clamping down together.  “I’m a really good teacher, you know” 

“Oh?” (y/n) scoffs, she’s faster to react than Ino, and for being at a giggly-level of intoxicated, she plays off her scoff as playful as she quirks an eyebrow up at him.  “You should probably save it for your students, then,” She says, and Ino fights the urge to snicker.  Not very well, though, it’s pretty obvious when he purses his lips and his eyes crinkle with humor.  “Besides, I’m taken” 

Ino does a full double take, the joy on his face falling and transforming into one of utter bewilderment.  If (y/n) notices the reaction, she chooses to ignore it, too busy staring down Gojo with a pointed smile that seemed sweet but screamed get lost instead.

Gojo doesn’t seem remotely offended by the bomb drop of a refusal.  In fact, he almost looks amused by it.  He grins from ear to ear as he nods back at her in understanding.

“Of course,” He murmurs, his gaze finally shifting towards Ino, only for a moment, before it’s focused on (y/n) again.  “I wasn’t trying to offend” He says, and it’s genuine.

(y/n) beams.

“You didn’t” 

With that, Gojo nods again, and then he disappears again.  Off to mess with someone else, they suppose.  Ino’s pretty sure Nanami was left unattended and he’s likely the next victim.  If the situation wasn’t so pressing, he’d probably rush off to save his mentor from the torment.  

Sorry, Nanami.

“Taken?” 

He turns to (y/n) with a look on his face that makes her brighten up.  That cute look of confusion mixed with curiosity, she just had to bask in the adorable way his brows would pinch then relax, then pinch and relax, as he struggled to keep his expression neutral.  She giggles, her smile turning toothy as she lets him baffle himself for a few seconds longer.

And then, in that soft, saccharine voice, she murmurs up at him.

“Well, I sort of am, aren’t I?” 

The night didn’t last much longer after that.  Once Shoko and Utahime were tapping out and slowly leaving the venue so as not to be bombarded by anyone- Gojo- (y/n) clung to Ino’s side a little more, and grew a bit quieter as it got later, her buzz turning into sleepiness.  

It wasn’t until Nanami made his departure that Ino decided to call it.  The only other people who were still in for the night were the managers who didn’t know when to quit.

(y/n’s) leaning back in her chair, working on drinking a second glass of water and hardly paying attention to the conversation happening around her.  She’d pulled her arms out of the sleeves of her wrap, but she let the material stay draped over her shoulders.  Ino was convinced that she might fall asleep right there in her seat.

In the last couple of minutes, he’s glanced over to find her staring at him five or six times.  Eventually he can’t hide the way his smile betrays him, and he mumbles a ‘what?’ under his breath at her.

She giggles back at him, airy and carefree, before she leans over to brush a lock of hair that curled around his ear.  A noticeable blush dusted over his cheeks as soon as her finger grazed his skin, even though the motion is just her drunken form of platonic affection, she leans so close that he can smell her perfume, and even once she’s tucked the piece of hair behind his ear, she lingers there for just a minute longer.  The lump in Ino’s throat is too large for him to talk through, so all he can do is hope his eyes aren’t ridiculously wide as he stares back at her, before she settles back in her seat again.

He thinks he might cancel his upcoming haircut appointment.  Even though it’s length was starting to get a bit annoying, he might try out the longer hairstyle for a while.  And if (y/n) continues to reach out to give it a little tuck behind his ear then that would simply be a minor bonus, wouldn’t it? 

It dawns on him after he spirals on the thought for a while that the night should be wrapped up soon.  It was time to get back home where he could chug some water and hopefully forget about how much he’d embarrassed himself tonight.

“Hey,” Ino murmurs, tapping the back of her hand gently to get her attention.  Her eyelids are heavy as she glances over at him, a small smile gracing her lips.  “You ready to go home?” 

(y/n) wakes up a bit more at that, nodding her head and tucking her arms through the sleeves of her wrap.

They slip out not long after that.  Ino keeps his arm around her waist, murmuring something about keeping her upright that he’s not even sure she hears before she’s leaning against him, slowly walking along the sidewalk on their way to the train station.  The walk and ride home is mostly silent, but it’s comfortable.  He wouldn’t ask for anything else, as long as she was tucked into his side like she belonged there, like he was made to hold her like this.

He’s not sure if the heaviness in his heart is because he’s so full of love, or if it’s because he knows deep down that this would be the closest to having her as his as he could get.  Nonetheless, he keeps his hold on her secure until they’re back in the safety of their apartment.

“Thanks for the fun night, Ino,” She murmurs after kicking her shoes off by the door.  “Let’s definitely do it again sometime, ‘kay?” 

He can only manage a small smile and a nod of agreement back at her.  

“I better get to bed, I’m going to pass out,” She lets out a tired little laugh, but before heading off, she steps closer to him, hand reaching out to give his shoulder a squeeze.  Again, he gives her a smile, about to bid her goodnight as he usually does, but before he can say anything, she’s leaning up and pressing her lips against his cheek.

She kissed him.

He blinks, and she’s already pulled away, still smiling before she’s headed off to bed with a quiet goodnight hanging between them.  

Needless to stay he stands at the door with his shoes still on for embarrassingly longer than necessary, his fingers ghosting over the spot on his face her lips had just blessed.

He was set back a few paces in his whole getting over her plan, tonight.  In fact, he might’ve been knocked all the way back to square one.

Oh well, there was always tomorrow to try again.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“You should really make a move on that roommate of yours, you know” 

Nanami’s sudden advice has Ino swiveling his head away from lunch, nearly giving himself whiplash as he stares at his mentor in shock.  They hadn’t even talked about the event last friday, so far their talk today had been strictly work related.

(Except for when Ino saw a cat across the street while on a patrol and he insisted that Nanami named the stray before they went on their way.  That was less-than work related)

“What?” The word comes out in a mere squeak, disbelief evident in his twisted expression, but he’d heard Nanami perfectly clear.  The man nods again, chewing thoughtfully on his food before swallowing, and continuing on with his moment of advice.

Nanami didn’t often feel the need to give his pupil guidance outside of jujutsu sorcery.  Ino was quite capable of taking care of himself, for being a young man with an odd form of income, he’d always taken care of himself well.  

Now, however, the 7-3 sorcerer felt the need to involve himself with this one.  And he wasn’t afraid to tell his apprentice that he was being an idiot.

“She’s a quite lovely young woman,” Nanami continues, and Ino already feels himself begin to blush.  “It was a pleasure to meet her.  I can see why you like her so much” 

Ino gives a shaky nod, still suspicious of where this was all headed, and why Nanami was pushing him to make a move- or so he’d said.

“Yeah…” Ino agrees unsurely.  “(y/n’s)... great” 

Nanami hums as he nods his head, adjusting his glasses before sitting up straighter in his seat, giving Ino an unsettling amount of direct attention.

“She’s clearly infatuated with you,” The blonde sorcerer says bluntly.  “So what’s holding you back, hm?” 

Ino opens his mouth, but when an excuse doesn’t immediately come to mind, he shuts it again.  He gapes a few more times, and Nanami is patient as he waits to hear whatever terrible excuse he comes up with, but eventually it becomes clear that Ino’s been stunned into silence, so Nanami takes over again.

“You’re a capable young man, Takuma.  Whatever is holding you back, it’s time to let go of it.  I only had to talk to her for a few minutes to know that that young lady is in love with you” 

Ino’s still gaping like a fish, but as the words sink in, he snaps his mouth shut, and swallows the lump in his throat.

“What- uh- why are you telling me this?” He stammers out.  

Nanami sighs softly, a small smile gracing his lips.  It was heartwarming to see the shy young love blossoming before him.  At least, when it wasn’t obnoxiously ignored by Takuma.

“Because it’s obvious when you two look at each other.  Usually that means it’s time to fess up” 

“Wait wait wait,” Ino put his hands up, leaning over the table they shared as he wrapped his mind around the sudden advice.  “Are you giving me… romance advice right now?” 

“I wouldn’t call it that,” Nanami grumbles, fighting the urge to roll his eyes.  “But you’re ignoring it” 

“So you agree it’s romance advice-” 

“You love her, don’t you?” Nanami interrupts him then, brows raised pointedly as he waits for the confirmation.  It was a simple yes or no question, wasn’t it? 

When Ino shuts his mouth and swallows hard, Nanami accepts that as answer enough.

“Then don’t you think you should tell her?” 

“I…” Well, he couldn’t exactly argue with such sound advice, could he? And he certainly wasn’t about to argue with the mentor he respected beyond belief.  “I just don’t want to ruin a good thing” He admits quietly.

Now, even his ears feel like they’re on fire with the admission.

“And if you never say a thing and eventually she moves on to someone else? You wouldn’t regret your choice?” 

Ino frowns.  He should have known Nanami was only going to hit him with logic.

He finishes his lunch quietly, a silence settling between them as Nanami feels as though he’d said what he needed to say.  Ino was clearly thinking it over pretty hard- seeing as he was making his thinking face throughout the rest of their lunch break- and now all Nanami could do was hope his words would stick.

At the end of the day he wanted to see his pupil happy.  Takuma Ino was a good egg, and he deserved happiness.

It would also help if he didn’t have to sit through another event where they made heart eyes at each other for two and a half straight hours.  But mostly that first thing.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Ino’s nervous when he approaches the door of his apartment that evening.  It was a nice night, his final assignment didn’t go too late, and he made it home at the early early time of seven p.m.

When he does unlock the door and let himself inside, it’s not a surprise to be instantly greeted by (y/n), who grins at him from the kitchen.

“Ino!” Her smile stretches from ear to ear when he walks into the apartment.  She’s in the kitchen, wearing the silly but cute duckling themed apron she wore anytime she was in the kitchen, even if she was only using the toaster, she’d put that apron on.

So cute, he sighs as he leans back against the door, at a loss for words.  So domestic.  (y/n) looks puzzled by him staying at the door without coming in all the way, or saying hello.

With a concerned knot between her brows, she drops the utensil in her hand on the counter, and makes her way towards him.

“Ino?” She calls worriedly.  “You alright?” 

“Yeah- yeah, I’m fine, just tired, s’all” He stammers back, finally pulling the beanie off his head and dropping it on the small table they keep by the door, then kicking off his shoes.

(y/n) frowns.

“Long day?” She lets out a sigh, then wraps her arms around herself as she awaits whatever terrible thing he has to share.

Jujutsu sorcery wasn’t always about unique talents and powerful people, she’d learned quickly.  She’d seen Ino return home with a weight that only failing innocent people could place on his shoulders.  Tonight, she assumes that the lost, glazed over look on his face is due to something of the sort.

“It’s not like that,” He says as he watches her expression sadden.  Ino forces a quick smile as he shakes his head at her.  “Don’t worry about it” 

She doesn’t look at him any different, still frowning, still waiting for him to tell her what’s on his mind.

“I am worried,” She murmurs gently.  She doesn’t want to push him, but she needed him to know that she was there for him if he needed to get something off his chest.  “Did something happen-?” 

“No- no it’s really not…” He tries to explain to her that his anxiety tonight has nothing to do with work, but he doesn’t yet know how to tell her that it had everything to do with her.  He wasn’t sure how she’d take it.  Wasn’t sure if it would come out right.

Growing more concerned by the second, (y/n) takes a larger step closer, her hands reaching out for his out of instinct.  He flinches slightly when she first takes hold of them, but he lets her.  He lets her squeeze onto them and pull them close to her.

“If you need to talk about it-” 

Ino doesn’t like the way she looks at him like she could break just thinking he was in some sort of pain.  So before he can refine the words in his mind, he blurts out what had been plaguing him.  

“What did you mean the other night when you told Gojo you were taken?” 

It does the trick, because her expression morphs instantly.  She’s staring at him with wide, unblinking eyes, lips still parted around the rest of her question that she now drops completely.  It catches her so off guard that she’s dead silent for a few seconds.

“And then you said you sort of were- what does that mean?” Ino’s prepared with another question, and she worries he’ll keep piling them on before she could come up with the proper answers for them.

Her face feels warm, and a nervous smile spreads on her lips, followed by a small chuckle that dies in her throat.  It’s a cute sound, anxious, but cute nonetheless.  It makes the corner of Ino’s lips tilt upwards upon hearing it.  It was a natural reaction, smiling whenever she would laugh.  He couldn’t help it.  Seeing her happy, even in a state of nervous energy, set butterflies free in his stomach in a way he hadn’t felt since his childhood.

“I… I meant…” She’s stuttering, voice failing her the longer his honey brown eyes are staring into hers.  “You know what I meant” She finishes the thought quietly, barely under her breath.

He softens, and then melts before her.  His hands squeeze her with the smallest amount of force, barely there, but enough for her to feel it.

She’s blushing, her cheeks a rosy shade of pink that’s so lovely he almost can’t stand it.  He leans towards her, watching as her eyes grow a little rounder upon the close proximity.

“(y/n),” He murmurs, so soft she wouldn’t have caught it if the syllables of her name didn’t brush against her skin with his breaths.  “I need you to tell me, alright? Because-” He pauses, his eyes flickering between hers for a moment, and she swears they dart down to her lips before raising to her eyes again.  “- because I need to know I’m not seeing things and- and making them up before I do something stupid that I can’t take ba-” 

“How stupid?” She cuts him off, pressing closer, as if it could get her an answer faster.  It might work, because she barely finishes the question before he’s replying.

“Very stupid” He breathes through the words, like it pained him to even say them.

The faintest of laughs fall from her lips, before she tilts her head and gazes up at him fondly.

“Who knew you thought twice about stupid things before you did them?” She teased.  It’s so soft, so sweet, that he cracks a smile.  It washes away all of his nerves, and his stupid idea doesn’t seem so stupid anymore.

Tugging on her hands, he pulls her closer to him, until she’s practically tripping into his chest, but he doesn’t care when they collide unceremoniously.  He’s already letting go of her hands so that she can brace them against his shoulders, steadying herself, and just in time before he’s cupping her face in his hands and slamming his lips against hers.

As sudden as the kiss is, (y/n) meets him with the fervor of a long awaited passion.  Her hands squeeze his shoulders, latching probably too tight but if it hurts he shows no sign of pain.

His lips are so soft, despite being chapped and his kisses being rushed, they were so gentle against hers that she could feel her knees wobbling.  He’d probably tease her for it later, but right now she couldn’t care.

He kisses her like they only have a limited amount of time.  As if they’re not at the entryway to their shared apartment.  His hands slide from her cheeks to the sides of her head, into her hair, holding onto her with a firm grip- as if she’ll slip away from him at any moment.

But the truth was, this was heaven.  She could stand here and kiss him and be kissed by him for hours.  Days, even.

He only pulls away from her when his body has him gasping for air, chest heaving, lips hanging open as he pants, she has to giggle just a little bit at his desperation.  Even if she matched it as well.

Their noses are still pressed together, and their hands remained latched onto one another as they both caught their breath.  Ino shares her laughter once the haze over his mind clears up and the reality of what they just did sinks in.

“So,” He mumbles, heavy eyes finding hers, making her fight the urge to steal another kiss.  “Stupid?” 

With a smile she tries to bite back, she shakes her head at him.

“No,” She murmurs back.  “Not stupid” 

Dinner is forgotten on the counter, going cold the longer it remains that way.  

Ino beats her to another kiss.  It feels like ages as they stand at the door embracing one another, kissing in between fits of giggles and sweet confessions, and kissing just to kiss.

He understood exactly what she meant when she’d said she was taken.  Because, well, he sort of was too.  Long before now.  His heart was stolen the day she responded to his ad, and with it their fates sealed.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ it’s better than i ever even knew // they say that the world was built for two // only worth living if somebody is loving you // and baby now you do. ]

[talkbycolor]

Hello there! I have to say, I really, really, REALLY LOVE your Kindergarten au. Little Yanderes as noisy children and MC as a Teacher who is not being paid enough XD.

Feel free to ignore if it's uncomfortable for you!

This is my first time asking so sorry if I am bothering you, But how will the mini yanderes react if they were kissed in the lips, not in a romantic way but like a parent showing love and care <3

how Mini!Yanderes react when MC kisses them¡!

A/N; even if MC kissed them like a parent the yanderes would hear wedding bells so JASHJHSAJS also the thought of an adult kissing a child on the lips is a bit weird to me so i will change it to kisses on cheek or forehead. i was listening ddlc soundtrack to write this AND SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG

Pairing(s); "Mini!Yanderes" and GN!Reader

CW; this is actually fluff / need to remark MC just see the little yans as kids they need to take care of, no one has special treatment

Sunny Day Jack.

Jack would be the one to take the initiative, in this case, the first time he kissed MC's cheek would have been during the school photo.

Early spring, all the children had arrived well-groomed to the classroom, MC finished combing John Doe's hair while the professional photographer adjusted his camera in position, the children moved from one side to the other, except Jack.

Jack finished adjusting his bowtie, very dedicated to being the most handsome child in the photo.

Finally MC gathered them all in different rows, placing themselves behind in the center.

"I will only take it once so if you need to go to the bathroom or sneeze do it now." Said the cameraman in a listless voice, no one had any protests or urgency so he raised his hand, specifically 3 fingers.

"Three… Two… One." A flash of photography dazzled them, the curious little ones ran towards the man to be able to appreciate the photograph.

And then they saw in the photo how Jack had jumped and pulled his teacher's arm to kiss their cheek, causing several students to immediately cry.

As for Jack's reaction:

He considers himself a winner, he probably looks for other ways to ask for kisses since MC is quite open about giving affection to his students, nothing too overwhelming.

Can't stop thinking about their future as a married couple.

A manipulative bastard will surely fake accidents or work twice as hard on his tasks to get that reward.

John Doe.

John Doe is a student who needs sensitivity, but don't give him too many kisses on the forehead or you'll overwhelm him.

A day like any other, the class activity required flour and water, something simple to mold and non-toxic since many of the students love to put things in their mouths, so full of curiosity.

MC finished helping everyone create their mixtures, Keith finished making flowers with his dough while Tenebris ate it.

The children learned and had fun, it was comfortable.

Until some sobs made the teacher run to where a little long-haired boy, John Doe, who couldn't stop crying, the dough had gotten stuck in his hair.

Of course, prepared for any occasion, MC took the little boy to the bathroom to wash off all the dough, which fortunately wasn't as sticky as the time Peter put gum in Mycheal's hair.

"There you go, see? Simple, are you okay, Doe? Don't cry, everything is fixed now." MC comforted their student with hugs and coos, kissing Doe's forehead.

"Again?" He asked with those huge eyes full of tenderness, MC gave more kisses on her student's forehead, who asked for more and more between laughs.

They had to stop when they realized that Doe was convulsing with happiness on the floor, it did scare them.

As for Doe's reaction:

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA"

He reacts in an exaggerated way, with adorable and loud giggles, hugs, red cheeks, his happiness is evident.

He is like a cat with dilated pupils and he scares MC.

Alan Orion.

Great project for class! Alan and his mom drew a picture of the solar system and he was in an astronaut suit, he didn't learn half of the names of the planets but it was enough to get a kiss.

The theme for that day was to draw a picture of things they want to do when they grow up, Alan carried his drawing to the board while holding it up over his head.

"I'm going to be an astronaut and walk in the stars!" he commented proudly.

"Very good, Alan, come here." MC called him over to place a star-shaped sticker on his drawing.

Alan tilted his head towards the teacher, subtly indicating what he wanted and of course the teacher didn't deny it, kissing the little boy's head.

As for Alan's reaction:

He loves praise, especially from his favorite teacher, and will keep a smile on his face for the rest of the day.

He will seek further validation from MC in other aspects.

Whenever he finishes a new activity he points his head up in anticipation of kisses.

Peter Dunbar.

One day he got sick and didn't got a kiss like everyone else.

Peter was confused, why were his classmates laughing at him while he sat in his spot?

Jack walked over with his arms crossed and a grin from ear to ear.

"Yesterday teacher MC gave us all a kiss." he said mockingly.

Of course Peter immediately ran crying to the teacher to get a kiss on the forehead.

As for Peter's reaction:

He was so upset with himself for getting sick and with the others for getting a kiss before him, he cried for 2 hours.

He asked MC for many make-up kisses, which led to the others asking for a kiss as well.

Peter bit and kicked the ones who came up to ask for a kiss, and ended up being punished.

Ren.

You don't need to be good at naming colors or good at sports when you're smart to win.

Play in the garden! All the kids were very excited, especially Ren, who got the lead role, he was a prince, surely that would delight MC, he had rehearsed so much to be the perfect prince.

The play was pretty simple, he had to dance with a girl and although that wasn't in his plans he couldn't push her off the stage or MC would think he wasn't chivalrous.

The exact minute after the play ended Ren snatched the crown from the girl's head and ran after MC.

"Teacher! Teacher! I have something for you, can I put it on you?" He asked batting his eyelashes.

MC didn't wonder where the other crown came from, they assumed the girl gave it to Ren since… Well, it's Ren. The teacher knelt down with a smile and bowed their head to allow the little boy to place the crown.

They were surprised with a tender kiss on the lips, making them gasp and quickly get up, the crown was on their head... but Ren had stolen a kiss from them!

The little boy was blushing, so happy that he couldn't stop giggling.

It was a shame that there were so many eyes looking at him with great anger at that moment.

As for Ren's reaction:

He was so happy, how could he not be? He had beaten all those losers in the classroom

He made enemies but he tries to maintain a good reputation with MC

The bad thing is that he couldn't steal more kisses from MC because now his teacher was more careful when he was around.

Mycheal.

Flowers are pretty but you are not allowed to pick them from the school garden.

It was early in the morning, not all the children had arrived yet to start class, MC arranged their notebooks and prepared the lesson for that day, while Mycheal walked through the garden looking for flowers to give to his teacher.

He knew that was not allowed but the best flowers were always there, since MC watered the plants every day, so considerate!

Finally he reached the rose bush, that was always dangerous because many times he tried to take them because of how beautiful they were but it hurt a lot, the thorns were terrible.

But today he would do it! A little pain was nothing compared to his teacher's laughter.

The little blond crouched in front of the bush and held a couple of roses, taking a deep breath when the thorns embedded themselves in his skin and he began to pull.

Harder and harder until his body fell on his back, tears came out of his eyes but he smiled when he saw a pair of red roses in his hands.

"Teacher! Teacher! Look what I made for you!" He was so proud of his bouquet that he was unable to see MC's worried face.

"Mycheal, you know you shouldn't pick flowers from the garden… Come, let's put them in a vase and heal your hands." MC said, taking the little boy's little hands to give kisses to his palms, which were bleeding a little because of the thorns.

As for Mycheal's reaction:

Mycheal learned to use gloves to pick flowers, but he can't do it anymore or he'll get punished.

Now he gets into fights on purpose to get kisses on his wounds.

He's also gotten kisses thanks to sharing his lunch with MC.

Keith and Tenebris.

Nap time in the garden, but there are always a couple of kids who don't sleep.

All the little ones were resting on the padded floor, covered by blankets after MC read them a story…

All except Keith and Tenebris of course, the twins were sitting near MC, Keith wanted more stories while Tenebris just wanted hugs.

Their teacher decided to read the story of "Sleeping Beauty", a simple story with a happy ending, he got to the part where the princess was woken up with a kiss, which gave Tenebris an idea.

The boy stood up and ran straight to the wall, crashing into it and falling to the ground, although he didn't use that much force it did scare MC, who didn't understand why the boy did that.

"Tenebris needs a kiss to wake up." The boy whispered with his eyes closed, waiting for said kiss.

Although ridiculous, it was also adorable so the teacher bent down to kiss the little boy's forehead.

"Me too! Me too!" Keith whimpered, clinging to his teacher's arm before receiving a kiss on his forehead.

As for Keith and Tenebris's reaction:

They discovered that they will get more affection if they make a truce, both asking for kisses at the same time to get double the affection.

They also both ask for kisses from MC behind the other's back.

Now they always try to stay awake during nap time, so the other students won't bother MC.

Solivan Brugmansia.

Spring event, it's time to bring out your artistic talents! But not in the case of the teacher.

MC had ordered their students to draw a picture of the things they liked most about spring, a simple activity to celebrate the beginning of spring, they were allowed to use crayons, paints, watercolors, chalk…

"Doe, don't eat the colors!" They ran towards the curious child who was trying to put a color in his mouth.

Being a teacher wasn't easy and although most of his students drove them crazy they had to admit that it was adorable.

Time passed, slowly while the children concentrated, it was strange that there was so much silence but not inopportune, the teacher decided to walk around their students to supervise their work, stopping behind Sol.

He had drawn a garden, it seemed that in the background were the horses and… MC?

The teacher sighed, stroking the boy's head and kissing his cheek, he just hoped that his parents wouldn't come to the festival asking weird questions because of how attached Sol seemed to be to him.

As for Sol's reaction:

He still doesn't understand why his parents worry when he draws his teacher, he loves MC!

Prone to developing praise kink.

His artistic skills would evolve thanks to his obsession with drawing MC, which would lead to more compliments and more kisses, clever, huh?

Damon.

Time to go out and play! Sometimes tears bring good things.

The whole group followed the teacher in a row, like baby ducks following their mother, they were on their way to the playground in the kindergarten, holding hands so as not to get lost of course.

They all made a circle on the field while MC prepared the game for the day, nothing too complicated.

In the end they decided to play soccer, nothing serious, just a bunch of little kids kicking the ball around each other.

It could have been entertaining if it weren't for the fact that Damon kept trying to catch the ball with his mouth, it made some people laugh but MC was worried, the real problem came when Ren tried to kick the ball while Damon was so close to catching it with his teeth.

Fortunately there was no blood but there were tears from little Damon, who cried and cried with his arms up, wanting to be carried by MC.

MC told them to keep playing while they tended to Damon, taking him to the infirmary where they made sure to hold him in their arms and caress his sweet little cheeks so that the swelling would go down.

His teacher kissed his head lovingly.

"There, there, there… Are you feeling better, Damon? It's over, don't worry, but you should know that you shouldn't use your mouth in a game where your legs are used, understood?"

As for Damon's reaction:

He understands that injuries mean kisses and cuddles from MC, prone to getting into fights to get more and then blaming Peter.

He's like a puppy, always rubbing his head against MC for attention.

He asks for kisses every day, if he doesn't get them he'll instantly sob like a pup.