#man's too fine he's Deranged I love him

[yoyo-s-coffee]

a break from the murder

[quarterlifekitty]

net meet cute

aka: how they start cyberstalking you. Some of these are more on the innocent side, some are slightly more intense.

Gaz sees you pop up in the people you may know section. He most certainly doesn't know you, but you are his type. As it turns out, you have some ridiculously distant relation of people that leads to his circle of connections (you're like his sister's college roommate's wedding photographer's cousin or something). But that one little tether is enough to make him feel tugged.

Soap started following you for your artwork. He follows anyone who even remotely interests him, and he liked what you made. You become a name he looks forward to on his feed-- he feels a bit parasocial about it, he knows your body of work so well now. And one day, he sees you share a post you were tagged in: It's a photo of you with another artist, both holding up the pieces you'd made to trade each other at a convention. He'd known you were talented, he didn't realize you were gorgeous as well.

Ghost sees you in the background of a video Soap shows him. Some disgusting display where people are trying to identify liquids they're drinking. When it's your turn, your face twists and you stick out your tongue, a little patch dyed umber from the soy sauce you'd sipped. He does a little detective work, finds you have a tiny little channel of your own. Nothing with a consistent schedule, clearly just a hobby, but there are a few videos of you restoring old toys, repainting dolls faces and things like that-- usually just showing your hands, but he finds your voice so soothing and you work with such delicate precision. Pretty soon he's obsessed with you, and fantasizing about ending up on your work table.

Price has very few reasons to surf online, but he does have a guilty pleasure: r/AITA. He loves a bit of tabloid level gossip now and again, and its the perfect place for it. He can see the world's most delusional people hard at work. His favorite ones are when both sides are clearly deranged and meant for each other. But then he sees you, posting about your shitty boyfriend, and all too willing to take the blame for the sorry state of things. And he finds himself rather keen on showing you how girls like you ought to be treated, as well as kicking your current man in the teeth.

I've mentioned this before, but I think König meets you in an online game. At first, you never speak on the microphone, and he doesn't either, but you're quite good, and your playstyle compliments his rather well. So he sends you a friend request on a whim, you accept it, playing a few rounds before turning on the party-only voice chat. And once he can hear you when you thank him for tanking damage, or targeting a player who'd been flanking, or pinging a pick-up for you, he's cooked. Looking you up on every social, trying desperately to find pictures of you, because he's sure you'll be as pretty as you sound.

Nikolai find you on a movie review website. He watches movies by the dozen when he gets some time off, but he's admittedly a little bereft of discussion partners, so review suit him fine. He typically disagrees with most of them, partially because he's naturally a contrarian, partially because the majority of online reviews are made by casual watchers and not lifelong cinephiles. And he comes across you, having written one of the only full, multiple-paragraph reviews for the obscure little number he'd just watched. And it straight up made him smile. Your review was punchy, funny, addressed multiple areas including the score, cinematography, casting, and costuming, and he agreed with a surprising portion of it. What he didn't agree with, he was intrigued by. He looks at your page to see what else you've written. You've seen and shared thoughts on many of his favorites, but quite a few things he's never seen, as well. He ends up watching them all, and feels a certain perverse excitement when it comes time to read another review, like he's a teenager taking you on a third date. Before long he's wondering where you are, if you go to the cinema. If they have non-hostile airspace.

Nikto finds you on the staff of some insanely obscure wiki/ID forum. Like, you help run a website/blog that's devoted exclusively to soviet era stuffed animals produced in Sergiev Posad (formerly known as Zagorsk). You help people identify them from pictures, from vague descriptions sent in to you of something from their childhood. He doesn't know why, but he ends up searching up images from others, often from unpopular and defunct listings on marketplace/bidding sites just to send to you. Just to read what you have to say about the stitch markings and stylistic eyes and the little tab of fabric on the leg seam from where the tag was cut. Maybe he'll take it further, maybe he won't. Maybe he'll find out where you are, just to make sure you're safe. Maybe he'll have to keep you safe. People with hearts like yours don't last in this world.

[norikuna]

WHAT? LIKE IT'S HARD? ✶ choso kamo

abstract ✶ there are six physiological stages of having a crush. you just wish that you didn't have to learn this through first-hand experience. everyone said that choso kamo was a loser in high school, a quiet kid who haunted the campus with no friends. sure, he was brilliantly smart, but he dropped out in senior year. he even managed to break your heart, the glittering prom queen, with the world at your fingertips. imagine your surprise three years later, when you find yourself stuck with him in med school. what's worse? he's actually super hot now!

PART II. of the new years letters, a series of fics dedicated to some of my lovely mutuals! 🎁

pairing. choso kamo x afab!reader genre tags and warnings reader is practically a blair waldorf prototype (filthy rich, a bit bratty, spoiled), bestfriend!gojo, background gojo x geto, mentions of blood and injuries, med school, MISCOMMUNICATION, angst and hurt, fluff, kissing and making out. sukuna and yuuji cameos.

word count. 17.5k! song inspiration. crush culture — conan gray

a/n. shameless med student insert i rlly projected my full heart and soul into the anatomy lab ick. art belongs to all respective artists [will add credit!] crossposted on ao3 💖

dedication. for my dear kashika, first of all happy (belated) birthday @kasukuna 💗 wanted this to coincide with ur day but i'm late, i fear!!! you hype me up so much, send the sweetest asks and you're so damn talented that i'm left begging for an ounce of your creativity and amazing mind! your fics are so witty and well thought out and i like to think that you've spawned an incredible dumbass!bf sukuna renaissance on jjk tumblr 😭 idk if you remember but i sent you an ask on creamflix so long ago like the start of december asking you to choose between characters and au's so i tried lifting this as verbatim as i could from ur answer <3 hope you had the most amazing day ever!!

mp3. ✶ crush culture makes me wanna spill my gut out, i know what you're doing! tryna get me to pursue ya <3

You refuse to speak to Gojo Satoru ever again. Not today, not tomorrow, not in this lifetime nor the next. He’s officially dead to you, figuratively, of course. Unfortunately.

The moment he stops cackling like a deranged hyena in the middle of your bedroom, you’re going to shove him out the door so hard that he’s going to see stars. You’ll block his number, you’ll delete every photo of his smug grin, and you’re going to hire an exorcist to cleanse his essence from your life.

Except right now, your best friend is sprawled across your bed, practically writhing as he gasps for air in between bouts of ridiculous, chipmunk-like squeals. He’s still in his uniform, having crashed at your place after school, with his white shirt untucked, sleeves pushed to his elbows and his tie dangling uselessly around his neck.

“You are such a child,” you grumble, shoving your sticker-laden journal off your lap with a huff, just so you can aim a precise kick at his ribs. Satoru wheezes dramatically, clutching his stomach like he’s just been mortally wounded in battle.

“It’s -” he’s snickering, slapping the fine-thread sheets with the fervour of one trying to summon a higher power, “It’s just too good. I – oh my god, I really can’t breathe! I think I’m going to pass out.”

Satoru’s rolling over dramatically, dark-tinted sunglasses slipping down the bridge of his hawkish nose, leaving him to look like a cherubic bird with a bad attitude.

“If only,” you mutter darkly, arms crossed over your own blazer as you glare daggers at the white-haired boy, “It’s not that funny.”

But Satoru just doesn’t listen, of course. His grin is wide enough to split his face in half, and every breath that he takes is another affront to your polished dignity, and every stupid wheeze is a reminder that you made the colossal mistake of trusting this man with classified information.

“Keep laughing,” you say, your tone low and menacing as you snatch your phone off your nightstand, “And see what happens when I play offence.”

That gets Satoru’s attention, as he freezes mid-snort. Grin faltering just enough to make you feel a small and petty thrill of satisfaction, “You wouldn’t.”

“I would,” you say, already tapping away on your phone, scrolling past the ninety-nine notifications clogging Instagram. A certain raven-haired boy’s name hovers in your mind, one who shares the same initials as Gojo Satoru.

You’re not above sending a risky message.

Hey! Gojo’s been totally obsessed with you, ever since you bashed his head in with a spiral notebook back in seventh grade, and called him a spoilt, rich kid. He draws love hearts around your name every night. Just thought you should know, XOXO.

“Wait!” Satoru bolts upright so fast that his sunglasses fall into his lap, his grin morphing into a scowl as panic flashes in his too-blue eyes, “That’s playing dirty. Totally unfair.”

“You’re the one who laughed like a lunatic,” you say sweetly, tilting the phone towards him as if you’re about to hit send.

“You can’t be serious!” Satoru points a long, accusatory finger at you, his dramatic outrage undercut by the way his lips keep twitching, “I mean -” Another snicker escapes him as he buries his face in his hands, shoulders shaking again, “Like how? Of all people, you really have a crush on that guy.”

For a fleeting moment, you wonder if it’s too late to enrol in witness protection. It was clearly your mistake, deciding to tell Satoru critically sensitive information. Revealing the name of the boy that you were crushing on.

And yes, your type has turned out to be greasy Tim Burton reject loners who wander around school in faded Lord of the Rings hoodies.

You’re just totally head-over-heels for Choso Kamo.

“Whatever,” you snap, shoving your phone into the pocket of your school blazer with as much dignity as you can muster under the barrage of Satoru’s relentless cackles, “You wouldn’t understand?”

“Understand?” Satoru shifts himself with all the casual arrogance of someone who, unfortunately, has never been truly humbled in his life, propping himself against one of your enormous plush pillows.

The velvet squishes beneath his weight, gold embroidery bunching, but he’s utterly unbothered. “Enlighten me, we’re talking about the same Kamo right? The guy who sits behind you in class, and doesn’t so much blink in your direction? The one who looks like he’d rather gargle glass than talk to you?”

Another pillow sails across the bed before you even realise that you’ve hurled it. It strikes him square in the face, with a satisfying thwump! Muffling his laugh as he flails, tangled in thick, down stuffing.

“He’s just shy!” You insist, your voice rising as you get up to pace. Your Prada loafers click against the polished floor, before you kick them off. “And he only acts like that when others are around, by the way. He talks to me when it’s just us.”

“Oh, sure,” Satoru sits up, wrestling the pillow aside with a theatrical groan. His snowy hair sticks up at angles, like he’s been electrocuted, “That’s probably because he’s plotting his escape route while you corner him, like a lion closing in on its prey. Poor Kamo’s the gazelle.”

“Just know that I’m blowing you up in my mind.”

Satoru huffs, “So, what is your plan now? Are you going to ask him to prom? Are we going to see a proposal for the ages?”

You pause mid-pace, fighting the hot flush that creeps up your neck. It burns brighter as you glance towards the gilded vanity mirror, for that is exactly what you had wanted. You just needed to hear someone’s validation, “Should I?”

Satoru’s grin falters for a second, replaced with a look of sheer disbelief, “You’re kidding, right? That kid hates social events. You think he’s going to go with you?”

“Why not?” You’re fiddling with the crystal perfume decanters, the bottles of skincare on your vanity, “I’ve been dropping hints, okay? Subtle ones, all that manifesting shit.”

“Subtle?” Satoru snorts, “You mean letting half the football team pile bouquets into your locker? The locker that’s right next to his? Oh, yeah. Super low-key. Very humble.”

“At least I have options,” you snap back, flicking on the lights as the sun begins to sharpen its afternoon glare. Warm golden light spills across the room, catching on the ceiling-length silk drapes, “Meanwhile, I hope you end up alone at prom. Making ugly, kissy faces at Geto Suguru, while he’s with someone else.”

Satoru groans, like you’ve truly pierced his heart, “Cruel. So cruel when provoked,” but he’s propping himself back up on one elbow, “But hey, if you really do like Kamo, you know that makes him my future brother-in-law or something. That’s cool.”

Your gasp is sharp, scandalised, “Excuse me?”

“But think about it,” Satoru continues, ignoring your sputters, “You’re practically confirmed to be Prom Queen. Do you really want to drag that guy up on stage with you?”

“I think you’re being judgemental,” you mutter, tugging the drapes close and blocking out the faint twinkle of the city skyline, “He’d have to be insane not to say yes to me.”

“Someone is going to deflate that big head of yours one day,” Satoru says, and his voice has softened just enough to make you glance back at him, “You do know he cuts class a lot, right?”

“What’s your point?”

“I’m not being a bitch, I swear,” Satoru holds up his palms defensively, “He shows up for only half the month, you might want to check on your boy.”

You flop onto the chaise lounge, throwing an arm over your face tragically, “This isn’t the inspiring pep talk that I need right now.”

Satoru leans lazily against the gilded frame of your canopy bed, “Hey, it’s not my place to tell you what to do. But if you are that into him, then fine! Just ask him to prom and see what happens. And tell you what? If you ask Kamo, I’ll ask Suguru.”

You narrow your eyes, “Wow, this must be serious if you’re out here wheeling and dealing like this. Are you feeling okay?”

Satoru presses a dramatic hand to his chest, his grin morphing into something faux-solemn, “Cross my heart. I’m making a binding vow, like, it’s unbreakable. Life or death.”

“Deal,” you quickly say, ignoring the sudden leap of your pulse, because there’s no way that you’re letting him see how the sudden time-pressure is making your stomach twist into ugly knots. You point towards the door with a flourish, “And as much as I love our time together, I need to get ready. So…out! Chop-chop.”

Satoru groans like you’ve just asked him to drag a boulder uphill with his teeth, slumping off your bed in exaggerated defeat. He sluggishly reaches for his discarded backpack from the floor, slinging it over his shoulder, “I still don’t get why you bother with working. You and I both know that we don’t need it,” he mutters, as if the concept of responsibility personally offends him.

“It’s just babysitting,” you gently correct, shrugging on a cashmere cardigan from the back of your chair, “And anyway, you know I need a well-rounded list of extracurriculars for Pre-Med.”

“I’d rather eat my sunglasses, one lens at a time,” Satoru shoots back, adjusting said sunglasses squarely over his face, “Instead of being stuck babysitting brats all evening. We’re not meant to be saints.”

“It’s just one kid tonight. New family, new house,” you reply, grabbing your bag where it rests by the vanity, “Anyway, I expect a full report on your prom date by tomorrow, Satoru. I’m not forgetting that vow.”

Satoru pauses in the doorway, with the edges of his grin sharpened into something that makes you pity Geto Suguru in advance, “I never disappoint.”

You had finally managed to shove Satoru out of the doorway, his obnoxious laughter echoing faintly down the hall. The quiet that follows is a relief, albeit short-lived. You’re left standing in the stillness of your room, phone in hand, thumb hovering over the text with the address of tonight’s gig.

Honestly, Satoru might have a point. You, the only child of one of the country’s most obscenely wealthy families, babysitting? It’s not like you’re chasing pocket money or trying to build character. But medical school applications don’t only care about your bank account, there’s so many extra boxes to tick. Factors like being selfless or dedicated to the community.

The request had been odd from the start. Some child had called you himself, and normally, it’s the frazzled parents who handle that kind of task. His voice had been small, but determined, saying that his brother was out, and he needed a sitter for the evening. Something about the earnestness of it had softened you, though, now you were starting to regret the whole thing — seeing how far out this house was from your own penthouse.

Showing up in the Bentley with tinted windows and your chauffeur had felt a little off brand for this role. So, in the name of relatability, you had popped a piece of cherry gum and a book, taking on the bus. The sticky seats and questionable patrons had almost been enough to make you reconsider, but the suburb itself offered a strange charm.

It was quiet here, too quiet, the kind of place that might have once been picturesque, but it had gone soft around the edges. The homes were older, cozy but tired, with paint peeling in places and lawns that were overrun with weeds. You wrinkle your nose as you step off the bus, weaving through tufts of stubborn greenery and abandoned toys in the yard.

The house that you’re looking for stands a little crooked, but sturdy. It’s faded shutters are barely hanging on, and a basketball hoop leans precariously over the driveway. There’s a small, red toy car that’s entirely faded and scratched, sitting forgotten near the porch steps.

Just as your knuckles hover over the worn wood of the front door, it swings open with such force that you nearly stumble backwards. A blur of motion catches you off guard, and you’re suddenly face-to-face with a tiny, pink-haired whirlwind.

The boy’s grinning up at you, wide and gap-toothed, with big golden eyes. His hair is wild, a fluffy crown of rosy strands over a dark undercut, and his scraped knees are haphazardly patched up with dinosaur bandages.

“Wait here! I’m going to get my brother!” He chirps, his voice bright and slightly whistly, thanks to the missing tooth. Before you can get a word in, he’s gone, sprinting back inside with the energy of an overeager puppy, leaving you stranded on the porch.

You shuffle awkwardly, glancing down at the scratched paint on the doorframe. There was something endearing about the child, and you’re starting to feel less apprehensive. That is, until the door opens again, and time slows.

Your heart stutters, skips, and then plummets. As if someone’s dropped you into an industrial freezer. Standing there, with one hand resting lightly on the kid’s shoulder, and an expression that’s one part confusion and one part disbelief, is Choso Kamo.

It’s as if the universe has conspired against you, playing its most cruel and ridiculous joke yet. Tall and broad, with tired eyes that sweep over you in slow recognition. Dark mark twitching across his face, like a deliberate smudge of ink.

Choso’s blinking, startled to see you here, though his usual stoic expression has yet to crack. Meanwhile, your inner monologue is screaming a symphony of pure panic. You can already heal Satoru’s stupid squeals in your head.

The pink-haired boy tugs on Choso’s arm, “See, I got a babysitter! Isn’t that cool?”

Choso glances down at the kid, then back at you, his lips parting as if to speak.

“Uh, hey,” you manage. The picture of eloquence, the master of the verbose elite.

It strikes you, with almost absurd clarity, that you’ve never seen Choso outside the campus bubble. No dim library corners, no lab tables cluttered with textbooks, or heavy beat-up laptops parked in front of him. Gone are the oversized hoodies thrown over his school uniform, or the baggy jeans he dons when he forgoes the dress code entirely. Instead, he’s here, standing in the soft glow of the broken porch light, wearing a loose black tee and dark track pants.

His chestnut hair is free from the two greasy, spiky knots that he favours on his head, falling softer around his face. Your traitorous heart lurches, feeling a sharp pang of betrayal.

“You’re the babysitter?” Choso’s voice cuts through your spiral. Raspy as always, roughened like rock salt, but there’s something else threaded into the question. A flicker of irritation, and confusion. As if he’s struggling to reconcile you, with the person standing on his doorstep.

“You didn’t know when you booked?” You shoot back, aiming for casual indifference, but landing somewhere closer to petulant. Your eyes flick to the box he’s holding, with contents that glint faintly in the light. Suspiciously metallic, as if he’s cradling surgical tools.

Choso follows your curious gaze, exhaling sharply, and shifting the box to a nearby table, just out of your line of sight.

“I didn’t book,” he grunts, “Told Yuuji to check the ads, and pick one.”

“And I picked the best one!” The delighted chirp comes from behind Choso, as Yuuji reappears, practically bouncing with a sunny grin. His golden eyes are locked on the ribbon-wrapped box in your hands, and his expression is lit up with unabashed glee.

You glance down at the box, containing an array of decadent artisan doughnuts. Saffron glaze, coconut cream, pistachio and chocolate. All from that impossibly chic Swiss patisserie downtown. You ignore the dull ache building between your eyes, smiling as you hand the box over, “These are for you, little man.”

Yuuji’s already snapping his hands for the box, as though you had just delivered a treasure chest of gold doubloons, “Can I have one? Please? Pretty-please?”

Choso glances down at him with a long-suffering look that somehow manages to carry an undertone of fondness, “Just one,” he warns, his voice dry but warm, “For now.”

Yuuji doesn’t need to be told twice, bolting towards the kitchen and clutching the box to his chest like a sacred relic. The faint sound of icing being smacked off fingers echoes from somewhere around the corner.

Choso watches him go, before turning back to you, his posture easing slightly. “That was nice of you,” he says, his voice softer now, almost tentative, “But he’s going to crash hard after that sugar high. Good luck.”

You wave off his scepticism with a breezy smile, “I’m good with kids. I’ll manage.”

For a moment, the boy’s expression shifts. Something fleeting and unreadable flickers across his face, a hint of thoughtfulness or something heavier.

Another thought gnaws at the edges of your mind, a tiny spectre of dread wrapped in Gojo Satoru’s smug grin. Two hours ago, though it feels like a lifetime now, you made a pact.

You ask Kamo, I’ll ask Suguru.

At the time, it had seemed like an impossible bluff. But the thing about Satoru is that he’s infuriatingly reliable when he sets his mind to something. No matter the cost.

Which is why you’re here now, sweating under your cashmere sweater. The fabric is suddenly too soft, too warm, clinging to the nape of your neck. You, with half the school population ready to pen sonnets just for a chance to take you to prom. Jocks, debate captains, the crème de la crème of eligible dates. All overlooked in favour of the quiet boy that no-one seems to notice.

The boy whose locker was assigned right next to yours, empty and cold steel. While yours was glittered with Polaroids, and pastel sticky notes, and the occasional folded love letter. The boy that everyone said had no friends, but he was easily the uncontested valedictorian. The boy that you desperately wanted to ask to prom.

Choso is shuffling papers on the table, avoiding your gaze like it’s a laser beam. His movements are slow, and deliberate, but there’s an edge of tension in the way his fingers linger on a set of silver keys, before he slips them into his pocket.

“What?” His voice breaks the quiet, low and rough like gravel underfoot. It startles you out of your spiralling thoughts.

“Nothing,” you blurt out, far too quickly. You’re grasping at straws to keep the conversation going, “Where are you headed?”

Choso hesitates, a slight hitch in his movements, picking that cardboard box again. For a moment, you think he’s going to ignore your question, but then he mutters, “Work.”

You tilt your head, your curiosity outweighing your better judgement to never press Choso Kamo for more than two sentences in a conversation.

He shifts uncomfortable, and you catch a glimpse of latex gloves tucked neatly inside before he angles it out of view, “I…clean up things,” he says finally, his tone clipped as though every word is a concession, “Errands. I’m a cleaner.”

The kind of response that’s designed to kill conversation in its track. It’s vague, annoyingly so, but you let it slide, “Oh.”

You’re this close to spontaneously combusting. The pact, the reason that your hands shake when you catch yourself staring at Choso Kamo for just a second too long. It’s either now or never. Rip the band-aid before your central nervous system completely betrays you and implodes.

Objectively speaking, you’re a real catch. Second-best grades in the cohort, from an old business dynasty that rivalled the Youngs from Crazy Rich Asians, two-time prom queen with med-school practically knocking on the door. Yeah, a dream. College applications adored you. Surely, Choso would have had to be running on a clone’s brain stitched into his head to say no.

Yet, somehow, it doesn’t make your heart beat any less erratically. It doesn’t erase the hollow pit that’s clawing at your insides. And now, you’re wishing that you had asked for advice from someone with an ounce of finesse. Like Shoko, or Utahime. Not your best friend who called himself The Honoured One.

You clear your throat, the taste of artificial cherry gum still lingering, “So, are you going to prom?”

Choso snorts, the sound entirely dismissive. But he seems to realise that you’re not joking, flicking you a glance, like he’s deciding to humour you, “What’s it to you? Need me to vote for you to be prom queen?”

You roll your eyes, fighting the flush creeping up your Burberry sweater, “Didn’t I already ask you to do that, like, two months ago?”

His lips twitch, barely, like he’s holding a smile back under layers of indifference, “Yeah. You pestered me three times. And I actually did it.”

You latch onto the softer tone in his voice, “So, are you going to go, then?” You’re watching him, almost desperate for a sign, for anything other than no.

Choso’s shoulders tense, “Can’t.”

“Can’t?” The word slips out of your mouth before you can stop it, incredulous, “What do you mean can’t? Why? You need to study or something?” You’re trying so hard to sound indifferent, like you’ve got a roster of dates lined up. And well, you do. But this is the only one that you want. The panic creeping into your voice betrays you before you even realise it.

“No,” Choso replies, his tone quieter, “I really just can’t go.”

A weight drops in your stomach, heavy and cold. Is this what rejection feels like? The thought hits like a wave, leaving you breathless. Your heart’s flipping in your chest like it’s teetering on the edge of cliff, seconds away from freefalling into nothing.

You inhale sharply, steeling yourself for the words that are about to spill out.

“I want you to be my date for prom.” “I can’t go because I dropped out.”

The words slam into each other, and for a moment, everything freezes. Choso’s mouth has fallen open, the curve of his lips slack with shock. As though as someone’s hit the pause button on him, mid-thought. You blink at him, your brain becoming a skipping CD. Round and round, never quite catching the beat.

“What did you just say?” Your brows knit together in a sharp pinch, like your face can’t decide whether to wince or frown. But Choso just grimace, lips curling into a tight line as his shoulders stiffen.

“You first.”

Your fingers fidget around the cream Van Cleef that rests on your throat, tracing the cool edge of the pendant. It’s one of your mother’s newer gifts, the kind that comes with all the frills and none of the warmth. Her true transactional brand of maternal affection.

“I wanted to ask if you’d go to prom with me, as my date,” It spills out of you in a jumbling mess, like you’re tripping vowels and consonants over each other. Choso’s eyes widen, but you barrel on before he can interrupt, “I mean, I get it if you think it’s lame or boring, or you just don’t want to go. But I promise my friends are actually really nice, and you can sit with us.” The rest of your monologue trails off, crumbling to dust, “I just really wanted to ask you.”

You wish to sink into the floor, like the soft earth will swallow you whole. You can almost picture Satoru’s ridiculous proposal to Geto Suguru, no doubt involving fireworks or an airplane trailing a banner.

The air is so still, you can hear the faint crackling of Yuuji’s incessant doughnut quest from across the small house, his movements clumsy and unintentionally loud as he rips open cellophane for more than one sweet treat.

Choso’s shifting slightly, and there’s a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks. The pink hue is a stark contrast to his usual sickly pallor. Even his ears are a shade darker, and his jaw tightens like he’s chewing on something bitter and struggling to swallow it down. It’s hard to tell if he’s upset or just lost. Or somewhere in-between.

“You wanted to go with me?” His voice is low, hoarse, like the idea is too outlandish for him to even process. You don’t know whether to laugh or apologise.

“Mhm.” It’s all you can manage, your throat suddenly dry and tight.

“I dropped out of school two days ago,” Choso mutters, as he runs a hand through his dark hair. He’s glancing at you, with the ghost of an apology flickering across his expression, but the shock that you can’t seem to mask makes him wince, “Look, it’s not a big deal. And it’s nice that you asked, but…”

“Dropped out? Like, entirely out of school?” Your voice cracks, each word climbing higher like you’re stepping on a broken escalator, “Why? What happened?”

Never let anyone tell you that teenage love is simple, or wholesome. Full of first crushes, and sweet moments. Because this? It feels like someone ripped the floor out from under you, the air yanked from your lungs, leaving you stranded. And it’s not a pleasant feeling, being denied something that you want, for the first time in your life.

Choso shrugs, like he’s been answering this question a thousand times already. Though, you’re sure that this is the first time he’s said it to out loud to anyone, “Family stuff. Just had to.”

You try to piece this together, for this house does smell faintly of stale coffee, and the worn leather of the couch has clearly seen better days. You can tell, on some level, that something is off. That there’s no parental figure in sight for little Yuuji, just the harsh edges of whatever it is that Choso seems to carry on his own.

You can feel the words bubbling up again, stupid and reckless, “But you know you just can’t leave. You’ve got the top marks in the class, Choso. And you know that you were on a scholarship, right? For one of the most elite schools in the country? How are you ever going to get that again?”

The second they leave your mouth; you hear how self-righteous and insensitive you sound. You already regret it, almost reaching up to slap your hands over your face.

Choso’s expression darkens, his face tightens. Like a storm cloud rolling in, as his lips pull into a tight and angry line, “Back off,” he snaps, voice suddenly sharp enough to cut, “You don’t know a damn thing about my life.”

His sneer twists, not with malice, but something deeper. Harder, like he’s being chewed up by all the things he never got to say before, “Don’t worry, though. I’m sure they’ll make a big, shiny tiara for when they name you valedictorian. Maybe, it’ll match your prom dress.”

“Hey!” Your eyes well up, stupid heat of tears prickling behind your eyes, and swelling a thick lump in your throat, “That’s not what I meant.” You cannot believe that you’re tearing up, over this. Over wanting something that you can’t have, and someone who seems to have more to lose than you ever thought possible.

Choso’s lip curls into a half-sneer, but there’s a flicker of something else there. His posture shifts, as if he’s trying to fold in on himself. He lowers his voice, still low and uncomfortable, but careful. Careful, because his little brother is just down the hall.

“I don’t need your pity, okay? Or your help.” His fingers grip the metal of the net door, “I have to go now. Just look after Yuuji.”

The heavy clang of steel on mesh echoes in your ears, sharp and final. The sound lingers like a ringing in your skull as you stand there, utterly paralysed as your mind scrambles to catch up with the wreckage of what just happened. Your five-year crush crashing down in five minutes.

Your feet move, and you find yourself in the bare dining room. Yuuji’s perched at the table, with a doughnut half-eaten in his hand, a mess of pistachio cream smeared across his chin like a brave trooper. There’s an iPad, an old, scratched model, with a silicone tiger case, propped up in front of him. The screen is flashing with something, like blueberries. Bouncing in time with some peppy tune.

“Did Choso leave for work?” Yuuji asks, utterly oblivious to the emotional landmine that his brother left in your hands. His eyes are wide, curious, the innocence of a kid who still thinks the world works in neat, little boxes.

“Yeah,” you say, forcing a smile, “He works a lot, huh?”

“Oh, yeah,” Yuuji mumbles through a mouthful of pastry, sugar clinging to his lips, “He always gets upset when Uncle Kuna’ calls him in. Even after school.”

Choso has never mentioned an uncle. Or a brother, for that matter. But then again, why would he? You had never even asked for his number, never bothered to learn anything beyond what was right in front of you. You realise, with a strange pang of guilt, that you’ve built your entire image of infatuation with Choso, from incomplete sketches. Filling in the blanks with whatever fits into the tiny box you’ve kept him in.

“Hey, do you have Netflix?” Yuuji’s voice cuts through your thoughts, bright and eager. “I want to watch How to Train Your Dragon. It’s Fushiguro and Kugisaki’s favourite movie!”

The names are unfamiliar, but Yuuji’s excitement is infectious. You cannot help but smile at the boy, his messy hair and too-big shirt. It’s hard not to be fond of such a kid. You take the iPad from his sticky hands, logging into the app. All the while, chasing yourself around mentally with a baseball bat for the biggest fumble of the century.

If last night felt like a disaster, this morning was just the encore performance. And you were the unwilling star. Just the effort of peeling yourself out of bed felt like an Olympic event. And facing your reflection of swollen eyes and blotchy skin felt like punishment for sins that were way out of your paygrade.

Reluctantly, you’re tugging on your blazer, and clipping a barrette into your hair. There’s a sparkling, diamond tennis bracelet fastened around your wrist. All little things that you need to don like armour, to face your senior year, the student population and the empty locker that would remain untouched next to yours.

Satoru and Shoko are the first faces that you spot in the crowd, and Satoru’s practically bouncing down the hall, “Oh, yeah, I got it locked in,” he announces, cheeks flushed with an absurdly boyish grin, “I got it in the bag.”

He’s sliding his sunglasses down just enough to peer at you, wordlessly handing you his coffee cup, as is your morning ritual. The overly sweet, creamy warmth does nothing to ease the ache in your chest, and your lip-gloss stains the edge of the paper.

“What about you, eh?” Satoru chirps, but you must look blatantly devasted. Because your best friend’s grin falters, the corners of his mouth pulling down.

“Wait, you’re joking right?” His voice is marred with disbelief, and his eyes scan the hall like he’s trying to spot someone’s dark head of hair, “Where is he? Jughead Jones lookin’ ass? Shoko, do you know where Choso Kamo sits? Because I’m going to give him a real piece of my mind and —”

You cut him off, abruptly shoving the coffee back into his warm hands, “It’s fine. He dropped out school, anyway.”

Shoko hums beside you, her fingers absentmindedly twirling a strand of cinnamon-brown hair. The chipped polish on her nails catches the fluorescent light, “Prom queen and valedictorian in one year? Not a bad run for you.”

You glare at her, and Shoko’s doe-eyed expression softens. The breeze from the open window catches her sleek hair, making it sway gently, and she shifts. Voice dropping to something quieter, more thoughtful, “That really does suck, though. Sorry.” She sounds like she means it now, her usual flippancy up in smoke, “I didn’t even know you liked him like that. Not until Gojo told me, like, two hours ago.”

Your eyes snap to Satoru who, for once, has the good sense to shut his mouth.

Shoko’s voice is subdued, “I wonder if it had anything to do with him being called into admin.”

“Wait, when?” Satoru interrupts. He’s taking another long slurp of his sweet mocha, the froth giving him whiskers.

“Three days ago,” Shoko shrugs, “Some big guy rolled up to the office. Demanded to see the principal. No idea who he was, but he was important. And rich. Like you need to be super wealthy to call the shots in a school for the children of the top one percent.”

You must look tragic, because even Shoko pauses mid-chew. Her lollipop moving from one side of her mouth to the other. She looks at you, really looks at you. You can see the careful shift in her demeanour, as though she’s considering the most diplomatic answer that she can offer you to avoid making things worse.

“Well, you don’t have to go to prom with anyone, right?” Satoru says, the words hanging awkwardly in the air like a balloon that’s just lost its helium. His consolation is well-meaning, but a bit clueless. But now, his sunglasses are perched atop his head now, leaving his eyes exposed. Icy blue, framed by lashes so long that they practically flirt with his eyebrows. For once, there’s a flicker of real concern in them, clouds passing over clear skies.

“I know,” you gripe, your voice flat as you find yourself glaring at a group of juniors who are skipping by, with their phones out in unison, clicking away like it’s a competition. Fantastic. You can already see the gossip Instagram stories by lunch, wondering what happened to you. Rumours milling about the reason for your glum expression.

Shoko shifts her heavy bag onto her shoulder, patting your arm. “I’ll see you at lunch. My treat,” she says, turning her heel for the Chemistry building. Leaving you alone with Satoru, as Shoko quickly picks her pace up to catch her Honours class.

“So,” you start, keeping your eyes on him out of the corner of your vision, watching how his fingers twitch around the coffee cup, “How did it go with Geto Suguru?”

Satoru’s shifting, as though he’s trying not gloat, but clearly bursting to tell you, “It was nice,” which is an unusually subdued, sensitive explanation from Satoru. The one who can take five hours to tell a story that you could wrap up in ten minutes. “He was really friendly. More than I thought he would be.”

“That is nice.” You’re forcing some perk back into your voice, but it comes out rather weak, “Like, genuinely.”

Satoru crumples the empty cup in his hand, tossing it into a nearby trashcan. Then, he shoots you a sharper look, “Did you actually talk to Choso, like, in-person? How did that go?”

You exhale, “Turns out I was babysitting his little brother,” and Satoru’s eyes widen slightly, “He was fine. And then he wasn’t. I asked him to be my date, and told me he dropped out. I said something…stupid. And now he’s going to hate me forever.”

Satoru stares at you, his gaze sharp, as though he’s dissecting you. And you swear that he can see right through your skin, right into your bones. It’s moments like this that make you feel like maybe your best friend has a sixth sense, some secret radar for picking up on these things.

“Wow,” he murmurs, a touch of something in his voice, “It really got you bad, huh?”

You bristle, a mix of annoyance and embarrassment flooding your chest. You’re straightening your shoulders, but it’s all too obvious and so fucking frustrating, “Yeah, well, I don’t even know why it matters so much.” The bite in your voice is more directed at yourself, than him.

Satoru doesn’t flinch, just tilts his head, and he’s quiet. It’s a weird look on him, soft concern, “You genuinely really liked him that much?”

The truth sticks to your throat as your chest tightens, and your eyes blur. It would be nice to tell Satoru that you didn’t really care that much. That it was never fully that serious, but the lie won’t leave your lips. The lump in your throat is palpable, and all you can do is sniffle, “Yeah. I did.”

“Do you want to cry?” Satoru’s voice is gentle enough to catch you off guard.

You open your mouth to retort, something sharp and defensive. But before you know it, tears spill as your chest constricts. It’s sudden, like a storm that breaks on the horizon.

And just like that, your best friend pulls you into him. For once, the wild energy that crackles off him is gone, replaced by something quieter and more unwavering. You can feel his shoulder under your cheek, soft and warm, salt staining the expensive fabric. And if anyone does see you sob into Gojo Satoru’s arms, while the white-haired boy pats your back, no one says a word.

But to borrow a line from Bangtan Sonyeondan, life goes on. The next few months slip by like the kind of indie film that you’d see at film festival. It’s bittersweet, and there’s a melancholy that everyone can taste in the air, especially as you all realise that this last blue spring of youth is slipping through fingers like sand.

In this haze of time, you discover a few things that you didn’t expect. For instance, Geto Suguru is, in fact, far more than the tall and brooding figure that you once shrugged off. He’s the stillness to Satoru’s sharper teeth, the quiet that counters the blue eye of the storm. He’s soft-spoken, with an easy patience that tempers Satoru’s edges. He’s become a bit of a constant presence, as they always bicker and makeup in a sort of perpetual cycle.

Spring arrives like a first kiss. It’s hesitant, not rushing in. Just tiptoes around you, tentative enough as it coaxes you out of winter’s gloom. Before the flurry of sparkly gowns and speeches, there’s Utahime’s birthday to celebrate. It’s supposed to be a relaxed affair, she insists that she has no desire for fuss. But you all show up anyway, surprising her with a giant, pastel cake that takes up nearly half the table.

Her laugh is loud, and carefree, mixing with the salt of the ocean breeze on this beach trip. Her black hair whips around her face, even as she blushes at the attention. She’s protesting, but it’s swallowed by laugher, by the sound of waves breaking against the shores.

The awards and titles are all well and good, prom queen and valedictorian. A shiny, little stamp on your high school resume, a golden ticket to the next chapter of your life. But when anyone brings it up, or someone presses too hard on the subject, you shift uncomfortably, your fingers toying with the edge of your pre-med acceptance letter like it just might tear under the pressure of your grip. No-one talks about how you’ve been visiting your locker less and less.

Satoru, of course, loudly denies crying at graduation, even as salty, shiny tears tack to his cheeks. They’re practically immortalised in every digital snapshot that you take. But for now, he’s too busy wrapping everyone in a bear hug, clutching the group that it’s the last time he’ll ever see them. Nanami’s already peeling him off, shaking his head with a worn sigh.

It's late in the morning after the graduation ceremony, as you all pile into cars, driving to a riverside café. It’s one of those places where people with money go to prove that they have money, to prove that even their breakfasts are above the meals of the common folk. But you all sit there, with the graduation ribbons still pinned to your lapels. There’s the debate over who cried the most during the ceremony (Gojo, easily, though Haibara is a close second) and who’s the one who peaked in high school. Everyone unanimously votes for Geto, who sulks as he tosses his hair out of his face, ever the drama queen.

“Bullshit,” he’s grumbling, “Just you wait. You’ll see what I accomplish in ten years.”

Satoru grins, all teeth and lazy confidence, “Yeah, what? You’re going to start running a pyramid scheme cult?”

Utahime’s voice cuts through the chatter, her white ribbon flouncing as she leans towards you, blinking at the empty space in front of you, “Where’s your food?”

You wave her off with a smile, “It’s fine. You guys can go ahead and start, I’ll just go and check.”

You hear Satoru choke around a mouthful of food, already bulldozing half his way through his plate like a bottomless pit.

There’s a pretty glass display at the front, filled with delicate chiffon cakes that glisten in the soft light. You wonder if you should have just ordered one, perhaps to share with Nanami. You know he likes desserts like this.

“Can I help you?”

Your pulse stutters as you bite your tongue, heart crashing against the rocks. You soothe your tongue over the tang of iron that blooms in your mouth from the stupidly familiar voice.

Choso Kamo.

You’d like to say that he looks good, but the truth is, he doesn’t. The hollows beneath his eyes are far more accentuated than you remember, and his hair is pulled back into a messy knot at the back of his head. Even his pale skin has taken on a sicklier pallor than usual.

“Hello?” His voice cuts through the silence, sharper this time, carrying an edge that takes you by surprise.

“Oh, uh, hey. Choso. Just wanted to check on my order,” you say, like it’s a poor prelude to small talk. It sounds far too chipper, almost artificial.

Choso’s expression tightens immediately, in an ill-omen. It’s as if he’s irritated that you even have the nerve to recognise him, to stand there in his space. He doesn’t meet your gaze, his attention flicking back to the screen in front of him with a quickness that almost feels deliberate.

“Hello.” He’s muttering back, more out of obligation than any real interest. Like it’s a formality.

The sharp, hollow feeling in your chest expands, deeper than you’re willing to admit. The last time you saw him, you had been standing at his door, and he had slammed it in your face.

“What are you doing here?” Your question is clumsy, hanging in the air, and far too intrusive for a stranger.

“What?” Choso doesn’t even look up. But then he does, just briefly, his gaze flicking to yours with the same disinterest. He shrugs, as though the query is too trivial for any answer.

“It’s just…it’s been a while, yeah?” You’re not quite sure how to word and I want to know how you’ve been.

“I’m fine,” Choso replies quickly, dismissing your question with a wave of his pale hand, “Just working around here and there.”

It’s offbeat, landing wrong. You don’t think it’s unfair to think that everyone expected more of him. One of the smartest, most brilliant minds in your cohort, who had been a shoo-in for medicine, alongside you.

The bustle of patrons behind you intensifies, but you stubbornly dig your heels into the polished tile, “How’s Yuuji?”

The mention of his younger brother softens him, just a little. A small, bashful smile tugs at the corner of Choso’s pink lips, hesitant, like he doesn’t quite know how to let it show, “He’s good. Says you were the ‘bestest’ babysitter that he ever had. Even asks about you sometimes.”

You fight the urge to smile too openly, not wanting to seem too affected by the gentleness that suddenly lingers in the space between you two, “I’m glad. And…are you still working for your uncle?”

It’s as if you’ve thrown a switch, causing all the warmth to evaporate from his features. His jaw tightens, as his brow furrows. Settling a coldness over his expression, “Who the fuck told you that?”

You blink, surprised at the sudden harshness of his words. “Yuuji mentioned it,” you murmur, quieter now, careful. The hesitation in your voice isn’t feigned, and you realise you’ve broken the golden rule of ‘never push Choso Kamo about his personal life.’

Choso doesn’t seem keen on letting you explain, as his glare cuts through you, “If you wanted to snoop into my life, just ask me your stupid questions, okay? Don’t drag my little brother into it.”

The accusation lands like a slap, stinging you more than you expected, “What? I wasn’t snooping,” you insist, defences flaring open, “He told me that himself. I didn’t even ask him anything, and I didn’t ask anything else!”

He just stares at you, eyes burnished and unreadable, but he seems mollified by your answer. Like he knows that your explanation is sincere, but the chasm is nigh impossible to bridge, “Sure. Okay.”

You don’t know how to respond, opening your mouth to ask what on earth has made him so unreasonable. To dig the tips of your almond nails into his long sleeves, and demand that he treats you as adoringly as everyone else in your life does. But he interrupts you first, “Your order’s coming.”

Choso’s tone is clipped, colder. As though he’s already moved on, “And I’ve got a lot of other customers to serve. Nice seeing you again, or whatever.”

A dismissal, if there ever was one. The embarrassment rushes up your neck, hot and insistent, but you bite your tongue. You let your heels clack a little more loud than necessary, as you stomp away. You’re swivelling your head to deliver a final, withering stare but his gaze is no longer on you.

Choso’s looking at the table where everyone is sitting. Where your friends are laughing, leaning into one another as they snap their final graduation photos. Where Geto has his lips pressed to Satoru’s cheek in a rare display of affection, arms linked with Shoko and Utahime. Where even Nanami’s smiling, the sunlight leafing through his golden waves of thick hair.

There’s no anger in Choso’s eyes, or even that solitary, brooding stare. He looks almost…sad. Profoundly sorrowful, in a deep and aching way that makes your anger dissipate.

He’s looking at your friends, at their graduation certificates stacked in sleeves on the table, as though he’s lost something that he never had. It aches your chest tightly, a knot pulling at your heart.

Once, he was Choso Kamo — the quiet boy you liked in school. Then, he became Choso from the café. Soon, he'll be someone whose name you won't even remember in a few years, someone who's path you'll probably never cross again.

You find yourself blinking furiously, feeling as though you've just lost something yourself, but you fight back the salt that threatens to blur your vision before your friends see.

THREE YEARS LATER.

Your day had started off deceptively well, like a glass of water poured perfectly. Clear, refreshing, with no chance of spilling. The sun was shining, your skin looked like it was having its best day, and there wasn’t a cloud in sight. But of course, it didn’t take long for things to spiral, as they tend to do.

It was like playing a real-life Sisyphus game, except instead of a boulder, it was a series of small, dumb annoyances that you couldn’t dodge fast enough.

First, Satoru had texted to cancel lunch. And to be fair, you weren’t that bothered. He had been talking all week about a world-renowned professor dropping in on his fourth-years Honours class, something about nuclear engineering. And you knew that Satoru lived for anything involving theoretical mass and explosions.

Then, your favourite tote bag had decided it was done with you. The strap had snapped off with a surprising, sudden violence. Your beautiful new water bottle had hit the floor with a sickening, metallic thud. Pens rolled across the tiles like little soldiers. You had been kneeling, already late for class, muttering curses under your breath when your phone had rung.

Your mother.

And you already knew that tone well enough, that voice that could cut through steel.

“You missed the charity dinner? You know how embarrassing it is for your father and I to come up with excuses, just to explain your absence —”

Yeah, like you had personally insulted her by choosing to study for your exams, instead of milling around an event hall. You tried to explain, but it was like trying to explain Satoru’s quantum physics to the wall. Totally pointless, and not worth your time and energy. And naturally, her tone escalated, because that’s what she just tended to do. Nevermind that she was calling from some ritzy hotel in Europe, crackling over the phone.

And then, just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, the course coordinator paged you in for a meeting. You were still in your first few weeks of medicine, so you had been scratching your brain for what he could have possibly wanted, snapping gum as you rushed and clacked up stone steps, breezing through campus.

Now, here you were. Standing in front of his desk with your arms crossed, almost petulantly. The room smelled like old coffee, and expired textbooks as the man coughed, leaning back against his desk, littered with academic transcripts and stacked envelopes.

“Look, there’s no denying that you’re one of our most brilliant students. All the tutors and lecturers admire your work ethic,” and the professor stopped, and you grimaced. Ah, here it comes.

“But, you’ve chosen Ieiri Shoko as your partner for the past three years, am I correct in saying this?” His dark eyes are narrowed behind wiry glasses, as you frowned.

“Yes.”

Shoko had practically excelled in Pre-Med alongside you, surviving late night study rants, extreme caffeine dependency, and textbook-induced breakdowns.

“You work together well,” the coordinator adds, looking like he was trying to make this sound like a compliment, “But you need to branch out. Develop your versatility. In a noble field, such as medicine, it’s important to be able to work with others. Not rule and conquer.”

You blink at him, “Branch out? I don’t know how else to say this, but I don’t like anyone else in my class. And Shoko and I are easily the best.”

He ignores your comments, “So, I’ve thought it better to move you to a new stream. Instead of Tuesday’s clinical practice, I’ll have you attend the Thursday session, starting today. There’s a new partner for you, and I assure you, he is just as competent as Ieiri Shoko,”

You doubt it. No-one can handle the sight of infected perineum stitches like Shoko can.

It seems there’s only one card left for you to pull, “My grandfather paid for this entire wing of the building. His name is on the plaque outside.”

The coordinator doesn’t even budge, “That may be true. But you still need to grow. You will never learn if you just continue to stick with what is familiar.”

You leave the office with a sour taste in your mouth, clutching the crisp sheet of paper that’s already being emailed to your student account, no doubt.

“Collaboration,” you’re muttering under your breath, “Building character, my ass.” You’re squinting at the page, trying to decipher the name of your new stream partner, but it’s obscured by a hastily scribbled note with your classroom change.

The faint ache in your neck refuses to budge, and you roll your shoulders with a sigh. Pushing through the double doors to the anatomy facility. Immediately, the frigid air bites at your cheeks, sharp and unwelcome. These buildings always feel like high-tech mausoleums, with tables lined up like gleaming altars. Surfaces cold enough to numb your fingertips if you’re careless.

The faint, cloying scent of formaldehyde hangs in the air, sharp and chemical. It’s supposed to preserve the cadavers, but it has the unfortunate side effect of making your stomach growl at the worst times. Hunger, and embalming fluid. A combination so disgusting that you try not to dwell on it for too long.

Your lab coat is rubbing uncomfortably against your arms, and your Loewe sweater is bunched awkwardly around your elbows. It’s a long-suffering sigh that echoes the hall as you shove the heavy barred doors to the classroom.

The tutor is a stalk-like man, with perpetually knitted brows, glancing up at you as you enter, “Ah, yes. The transfer,” he’s brisk with it, “Got the note about you moving to my Thursday stream. Just sit over there, for now. Yeah, there. Your partner should be along soon. If he’s a no-show, I’ll reassign you to a different table.”

You nod wordlessly, scanning the room as you head to your non-descript, assigned corner. The faces at the other tables blur together, some curious and others indifferent. Most focused on pushing worksheets under steel clipboards.

Great. A room full of strangers with all the warmth of wet cardboard.

Sliding into your plastic seat, you pull your notebook out and flip it open, the pages crinkling and echoing in the too-quiet room. It’s a minute, maybe two of shifting uncomfortably in your chair, feeling the awkward hollowness of sitting alone at a two-person station. But the door swings open with a groaning creak.

“Perfect! Full class today, that’s what I like to see. Just head to your usual spot, and I’ll start passing the models around.”

You glance up, squinting at the figure who’s broad enough to cause a solar eclipse of the fluorescent light.

“Get out,” you blurt.

“This is my class,” Choso Kamo stares at you, equally bewildered. His bronze eyes widen briefly, flickering from your face to the lab tables, to the unaware tutor.

“Don’t care. Get out,” you scowl, speechless for a moment, “No. Don’t sit. This is my assigned stream. Don’t tell me that you’re my —”

“Partner?” Choso finishes for you, deadpan.

“Of all the people in this entire school —”

“I’m starting to feel offended,” Choso cuts in, already pulling out the chair beside you, and slinging his bag down with an air of resignation.

“What are you doing here?”

Choso’s lips twitch, but he doesn’t quite smile, “I’m getting an education. Obviously.”

Your gaze flickers away from his unfairly handsome face, following the motion of his hand as he shifts. There’s a single black hair tie, looped around his wrist.

But something just does not add up for you. This isn’t just any medical program. It’s the kind of rigorous, cutthroat, soul-consuming degree that requires three years of a top GPA from Pre-Med. It’s designed to weed out the faint hearted before the first semester is even over. Graduates here don’t just get jobs. They get titles, and invitations to Westminster where the British monarch probably bestows them with Dame, or Sir, or some other archaic title.

And Choso Kamo is a high school dropout, with nary a certificate to his name.

“You got into medicine?” It’s as blunt as you can get.

“What? Like it’s hard?”

“Don’t quote Legally Blonde at me,” You snarl, wordlessly taking the tray of silicone gashes from the tutor.

Choso blinks, as though he’s truly stumped by your hostile reaction, “Then don’t ask stupid questions.” He seems…different now. Sharper, and less apologetic. There’s a streak of confidence that’s as unnerving as it is infuriating. Is he taller? He seems taller.

You exhale sharply, a sound between frustration and resignation. It’s not like you can go up to the course coordinator now and say, ‘Oh, sorry! I can’t be in this stream because my new partner is the boy who broke my heart in high school. I cried and threw up on my best friend’s blazer for three days.’

But you’ve definitely given the group chat enough material to fuel their devious amusement for days, even weeks. You’re practically writing the jokes for them.

With a defiant swing of your arm, you hoist your bag onto the desk. The soft leather tanking against the sterile surface, like a gauntlet being thrown. You slide it firmly into position, the strap dangling just enough to make a point. That this is your line in the sand.

“Don’t move one centimetre over your side of the desk.”

Choso just rolls his eyes.

“They…modify bacterial ribosomes.”

“Wrong.”

You sigh and tap the edge of your notebook with the tip of your mechanical pencil. The rhythm is irregular, your thoughts too scrambled to produce anything like a steady beat.

“They inactive carbapenems,” you try again, your tone pitched with the kind of hope that knows it’s already on life support.

“Nope.”

Choso’s shaking his head, the movement loose and lazy, and it sends strands of his chestnut hair tumbling into his face. The harsh fluorescent lights above make his hair shine with an almost metallic lustre, and as he tugs a thick sweater over his broad frame, your gaze drifts.

The fabric of his white top is riding up, revealing a pale stretch of skin. There’s the faintest dusting of dark hair trailing downwards, and your eyes snap back to the textbook. Your cheeks flushed, for the briefest second as your resolve breaks.

“Just tell me the answer.”

Choso exhales, in a soft and patient sound, sliding the textbook your way. He’s tapping the page with his finger, his blunt nail landing on the highlighted sentence.

“Extended-Spectrum Beta-Lactamases hydrolyse a wide range of beta-lactam antibiotics, including third-generation cephalosporins. This contributes to antibiotic resistance.” His voice is smooth, but it carries that faint rasp that always makes it sound like he’s just woken up.

“I was close.”

“Close doesn’t get you any marks,” Choso replies, deadpan.

Your retort dies on your glossy lips, when a sharp shhh cuts through the air. You glance up, spotting a student two tables away, glaring at you over the rim of her stylish tortoiseshell glasses.

Your next sip of coffee is deliberate, making an obnoxious gurgle as you drain the bottom of your cup. Choso’s eyes flick to the order scribbled on the side, Caramel Crunch Latte, Extra Whip. His lips twitch, but what can you say? Satoru’s dropped a habit or two on you over the years.

This has become the routine over the past few weeks. The outright disdain you had initially felt had eroded, once you had realised that you were truly stuck with the man. It had become something closer to a begrudging truce, but ‘truce’ may be too generous a word.

The two of you found yourselves studying together. Regularly. Choso needed to interact more with people, and less with his old, dusty laptop. And you needed a study partner that could match your wits. Unfortunately, Choso seemed entirely oblivious to the reason you nursed an ancient grudge against him, choosing to accept your bad attitude in stride.

It doesn’t help that Choso is, well, hot now.

In high school, he had always been cute in that underdog way. Endearing, if not exactly the type to inspire confidence. He had been the subject of your sweet trope-like fantasy that you would nurture during long, dull classes.

You, the radiant prom queen, standing under a canopy of glittering lights, extending a perfectly manicured hand to him. The shy, awkward loser who’d clearly underestimated how gorgeous his messy hair and tendency to trip over his own words were. Ugh, now you’re not sure who had been the bigger loser.

But three years had passed, and the Choso that sat across from you now bore only a passing resemblance to that daydream. Time, it seemed had been suspiciously kind to him. Unfairly, even. His frame was lean but undeniably defined. His shyness remained, because you knew that he refused to correct the woman at the food trucks whenever she got his name wrong, but it had softened into something less clumsy, and more self-contained. Far less teenage angst.

The dark violet smudges beneath his eyes were still there, giving him that haunted and sleep—deprived look. And his hair was still the same stringy, chestnut mop that you remembered. But it was more of a deliberate statement now, instead of an oversight. It hung just over his shoulders, and you had heard many a passerby giggle and whisper about hot emos on campus. Like, get in line.

“What are you doing next weekend?”

The question comes so abruptly that your head snaps up like a spring-loaded trap.

“Huh?” You blink, the tip of your pencil teetering dangerously close to snapping against the page.

Choso stares back at you, his expression maddeningly neutral, “Like, are you busy?”

“It’s my friend’s birthday on Saturday, we’re going out at night,” you’re narrowing your eyes at him, already feeling your composure fray.

It’s Suguru’s birthday, and Gojo’s gone full-out with a surprise planned at some five-star restaurant. You managed to get your hands on a vintage vinyl turntable for him, courtesy of a Sotheby’s auction.

Choso nods, like he’s filing that away somewhere, “What about Sunday?”

“Sunday?” You repeat, dragging it out, “I’m free, I guess.” Against all reason, you find yourself answering honestly, even as some internal voice is screaming at you to lie and make up an excuse.

“Do you want to study at my place?”

There’s a pause, long enough for the air to grow heavy between you two. You wonder if he remembers the last time that you asked him to go out with you. Your eyebrows shoot up, and your mouth must be twitching in something close to incredulity.

Choso notices, for his ears go pink first. Then his cheeks, like someone’s spattered him with a splotchy watercolour paint. The flush sits pretty, just under the dark mark that crosses the bridge of his nose, “No, I mean, like really study. Just studying. It’s easier than being here…” He twitches, looking anywhere but you, “Yuuji would be happy to see you again, and stuff.”

And stuff. How ridiculous that two words make your heart trip over itself. Your three-year resolve to keep him firmly in the do not touch zone has basically cracked wide open. There’s a traitorous smile tugging at the corner of your lips, but you manage to suppress it. Barely. Playing it off with a nonchalant hum.

“Hmm. Sure, I’ll think about it.”

Choso lives in an apartment now. Not a polished high-rise with sleek fixtures and panoramic views, but a tired and unremarkable building with flickering yellow lights that cast long and ominous shadows along the stairwell. You clutch the slip of paper that he scribbled his address on, squinting at the nearly illegible scrawl. It’s barely decipherable, a penmanship perfect for prescriptions and indecipherable notes.

In your other hand, you balance a box of cream rolls from the bakery that Nanami swears by, their golden horns stuffed with airy dairy and dusted with cinnamon sugar. The smell is warm and sweet, a sharp contrast to the questionable stairwell.

The ascent feels longer than it should, each step accompanied by the faint swing of those tired lights overhead. But you bite back any judgement, you’ve made that mistake before.

Someone else is already there, a tall figure that knocks on Choso’s door with wide, lazy knuckles. Once. Twice. The man huffs, pocketing his phone and pulling out a key. There’s a practiced ease to the way he clicks the lock open, and for a moment, you hesitate, wondering if you’re witnessing a breaking-and-entering type of situation.

But there’s something familiar about the muted shock of rosy, pink hair that spikes over his head.

“What are you doing?” His voice is rough, deep, with an edge of irritation that makes you stand a little straighter. He looks over you once, and his eyes fall on the box of pastries in your hands. Disinterest giving way to a little bit of curiosity. It reminds you of Itadori Yuuji.

“Uh,” you clear your throat, “Choso invited me.”

The man’s eyebrows lift in surprise, and you’re fascinated by the tattoos that curl around his face. Even running along his jawline, and down his neck. There are silver studs littering his ear, and if you didn’t know better, you would say that there are real precious stones scattered among them.

“Didn’t know he had a date.” The man seems gruffly amused, and you stomp your heels, the sound snapping off worn walls.

“It’s not a date. We’re studying.”

“Don’t care. Didn’t really ask.”

With that, he swings the door open, stepping inside before you can. You linger in the doorway, before hesitantly following him, watching as he kicks the door shut with his heel. He seems to be making himself at home like he owns the place, peering through an empty fridge and rifling through cabinets. All before collapsing on the sagging couch like it’s his throne, sprawled out as he starts scrolling through his phone again.

You just perch awkwardly on the edge of a cold chair, as the space suddenly feels oddly claustrophobic. Your fingers toy with the edge of your notebook, as you wonder whether you need to call Choso, to see if this was all a mistake. Instead, your gaze flickers over to the man sitting opposite you.

You’re sure that he comes from money. You’ve spent enough summer holidays backstage at Milan and Paris shows to recognise the season’s latest pieces. And the crimson racing jacket on his shoulders is definitely a Dior piece that costs more than what you assume is the rent of this entire apartment complex. Plus, you had spent enough time flicking through Van Cleef’s catalogue to recognise the whirring, high-jewellery piece that sat on his wrist. A watch with an eye-like mechanism, studded with Burmese rubies. Easily the price of your penthouse.

“So, you friends with Choso?” He asks suddenly, lowering his phone. His eyes are sharp russet, locking with yours.

“We know each other from high school,” you say, trying to keep your tone neutral. It’s best to leave it at that, it’s safer that way. You’re playing Choso’s game, the one where you don’t share a thing about your personal life.

“Hmph,” The sound is more of a grunt than a response, and it makes you bristle. Why bother asking a question if you’re not interested in the answer?

“Did I leave the door unlocked?”

You hear Choso’s faintly bewildered murmur, almost to himself, before he catches sight of you. It’s cute, how a bashful smile creeps over his face again, almost embarrassed at the sight of you. But it darkens instantly, sharply. His bronze eyes are fixed on the man that loiters on his couch.

“Get out.”

The man is unfazed, “Why? Am I interrupting your date?”

“It’s not a date. We’re studying.” Choso’s mirroring your exact, previous words. His tone is stiff, like you’ve never heard it before. A snarl, with irritation bubbling underneath the surface.

“I don’t know how else I can stress this enough, brat. But I really do not care what you do to get off.” The man drawls, pushing himself off the couch. He’s absurdly tall, easily the height of the ceiling. You catch a glimpse of the tattoos trailing up his forearm, dark ink that winds around his wrist. A startling splash of red staining the sleeve of the pristine jacket. It’s dried up now, crusting the edges of the fabric. Sort of like…

Weird. And impossible.

Choso grunts, “Fine. Get up. Go,” and he’s gesturing towards a door leading into another room, his jaw clenched tight. The muscles in his neck are taut, the apology in his expression at you somehow mixed with a faint flicker of regret, like he wishes you weren’t here to see this.

What happens next is an absolute masterclass on being nosy. You’ve edged closer to the door, shifting on the couch so you’re practically perched on the armrest. You can hear the muffled thrum of Choso and the stranger’s voice through the door, but it’s not enough. Curiosity is clawing her sharp nails at you, and you wonder if you should text Satoru. Or maybe drop a quick message in the group chat.

You end up leaning in closer, ignoring the way that you’re teetering on the very edge.

The conversation is low, like the rumble of thunder in the distance, but the voices are gradually building until —

“What? You did not just fuckin’ throw something at me!” The man’s voice booms so loud that you almost jump out of your skin, “What is wrong with you? Can’t even have an honest conversation these days?”

Choso’s response is tight, simmering with frustration that you don’t understand, “Nothing you do is honest. And don’t break into my place then!”

“Your place?” The man’s scoff is almost a sneer, like he’s amused at the mere thought, “Brat, let’s not forget all the favours I’ve done you.” There’s a crash, something hitting the floor with a thud, and the man’s voice bellows again, “Oi! Put that down right now. Don’t you dare throw something else at me. Fuck, you’ve got good aim, I’ll give ya’ that.”

You can hear Choso shuffle, spit something sharp in response.

“You’ve done all these things for me before, eh? Why the hesitation now? Got tired of cleaning it all up?”

Choso’s response is firm through the thin walls, “I’m done with doing your dirty work all the time.”

The silence that follows is thick, suffocating, punctuated with a low and disbelieving laugh.

“You said that last time. But you came crawling back when you couldn’t handle looking after the kid all on your lonesome.”

“Leave Yuuji out of this!”

There’s another muffled scuffle, a loud thud that makes your heart race as the stranger growls, “Can’t believe you bit me.”

The door swings open with a suddenness that almost knocks you off your seat. Choso’s practically putting his entire back into shoving the man out with a sharp grunt, like he’s had enough.

The stranger turns, giving you a lazy, bored wave. Like he knows that it will simply irk Choso off even more. And he’s right. Choso, not having it for a second, snaps at him, “Get out. And don’t come back.”

The man rolls his eyes, but not before pulling out a pricey Italian wallet, slapping a wad of thick bills down on the kitchen counter, “That’s for this month. I’ll send a cheque next month for the little brat’s birthday.”

Then he’s gone, muttering something about bitchy, little bastard children, born on the wrong side of the sheets, with sharp teeth.

Choso’s whirling around to you, his expression unreadable and blank. Like the surface of still water that refuses to betray even a ripple of emotion. You school your features, meeting his gaze with a look of equal, quiet disinterest.

“Friend of yours?” You ask, your voice cool. But there’s questions dancing on the tip of your tongue, and you can taste them in the air.

He doesn’t answer right away. He’s flicking through the thick stack of bills that the stranger left on the counter. The sound of cash shifting in his hands is oddly loud, and you whistle low, almost involuntarily. It makes Choso look up, catching your appreciative gaze. His fingers tighten around the stack, his jaw clenching, as if to keep in whatever thoughts or words are threatening to spill out.

“Don’t say anything.” His voice is a low mutter, hard.

“I didn’t.”

Choso looks at you again, his hazel eyes softening just enough that you catch the flicker of something unsure. He lets out a low sigh, “But you want to ask.”

“Will you let me ask?” You’re pushing, your voice a little softer and coaxing than you intended. You can already see the signs, the slight stiffening of his shoulders, the way his gaze flickers to the door as if he’s considering an exit. Choso’s like a clam, snapping shut, as if there is a pearl that he’s not ready to share.

“What do you want to know?” He’s saying this like it’s a chore, as if it is the last thing he wants to do.

You make your way to the kitchen counter, “What will you tell me?”

If Choso is irritated by the vague, passive nature of your questions, he doesn’t show it. He simply tugs his purple sweater down, sharply. “Yuuji will be sad if his uncle didn’t send him money for his birthday. He turns ten next month.”

“So that was…Uncle Kuna,” you ask, murmuring more to yourself than to him. But Choso’s sharp gaze flicks to you, a faint confirmation in the nod that follows.

“Mhm.”

And just like that, something clicks in your brain. A conversation that you had overheard once, perhaps a year or two ago. A rare moment that both your parents had been home, still too distracted to realise that you were listening. The realisation hits you hard, like a small shot of adrenaline, “That’s not Sukuna, is it? Ryomen Sukuna?”

Choso’s amber look is like fragile glass now, “Yeah. How’d you figure?”

In a world such as yours and Satoru’s, it’s quite hard to avoid gossip, and whispers that float around in the backrooms of business meetings, or in the too-quiet halls of private clubs. For all the older business-clans, Sukuna is quite the upstart. A man who clawed his way to the top, not just content with money, but power and influence as well. Apparently, he made quite the name for himself, building an empire with wealth beyond measure.

And all at the low price of being wanted in more than thirty-five countries and territories. A businessman, a crook and a criminal. Your father said that Ryomen Sukuna’s ledgers were written in red ink, fresh blood for both personal and financial debts that were owed to him.

“Why did he say that you came crawling back to him?”

Choso’s eyes flutter shut, and you can see that he’s calculating whether it’s worth the effort to respond.

“He’s the reason I dropped out of school,” Choso mutters, the words low enough that almost don’t catch them. They land with a soft thud, the kind that makes your pulse stutter. You stare at him, with the kind of look that people give when a ticking time bomb has just been dropped in their lab.

Choso scoffs, eyes darting away, “Yeah. He’s always been sending money for Yuuji. And I was stuck doing his…favours.”

Suddenly, you’re back in high school. On Choso’s doorstep, watching him try to hide a cardboard box of surgical tools. There’s a little corkboard map in your head connected with red strings, as you pin other things on there. The latex gloves in the box, Choso’s general lack of squeamish misery when it comes to the stickier parts of medicine, and the bloodstain on Ryomen Sukuna’s Dior jacket.

It’s almost odd, in a morbid way, that a crime boss chooses the latest Vogue streetwear, instead of a dark Godfather suit and a cigar.

Your expression must betray the pieces that you’ve put together, because Choso’s eyes widen, like he can see the cogs turning in your brain. “Look,” he stammers, voice rougher now, with a nervous edge, “I didn’t do anything wrong. Never saw what he did. Not really. Just —”

You shush him gently, a hand reaching out to land on his, a little too quickly and a little too hot. The instant your skin brushes against his, there’s a sharp feeling. Like you’ve touched something that burns beneath the surface. His face flashes a faint pink, muscles stiffening as though your touch seared him in a way he wasn’t prepared for.

“Go on,” you hope that your tone is reassuring.

Choso swallows, his throat bobbing as his fingers suddenly curl around yours, “Anyway, I got tired of doing his dirty work, you know? Thought that if I dropped out, I could get a job. Work enough to support myself and Yuuji, without taking a single dollar from him.”

“But he’s your uncle?” Your question is tentative, like you’re testing the waters of a deeper pool, “Wouldn’t he support you, too?”

Choso’s sigh is deep and weary as he gently corrects you, “He’s Yuuji’s uncle. Yuuji’s my half-brother.”

Suddenly, Sukuna’s comment about ‘biting bastard children’ snaps into place with clarity. Oh.

You’re not sure what to say now, what words could possibly fill the emptiness that lingers between the two of you. What a misery it would have been. Being a teenager with such potential, forced to close off your own future for the sake of family, and those that you love.

You remember Choso’s face that day, after graduation, with his hollow expression as he watched your friends celebrate their youth. There’s a bitter lump in your throat, but for once, you keep it down. This really isn’t about you.

You frown, the thought sneaking up on you and settling in your chest like a splinter you can’t ignore. “He said you owed him favours.”

Choso exhales sharply, his shoulders stiffening as if bracing for something unpleasant. His voice is low, bitter. “You think high school dropouts pay their own way into med school without a benefactor?”

Right.

“So?” Choso’s voice cuts through the fog of your thoughts, and you blink at him, startled.

“So, what?”

Choso shifts, unease seeping into his posture. His calloused fingers are still curled tightly around yours, like he’s afraid that you’ll pull away and slip past him.

“Are you angry?”

You’re not sure whether to laugh, or sigh, “Why would I be angry?”

He’s hesitating, dark hair falling loose around his face, “I was a jerk to you.” The words come quietly, like they’ve been gnawing at him, biting at the edges of his thoughts, “At the time, I don’t know, I guess I was just angry. Everything felt unfair, and I didn’t want anyone else to be involved.”

You frown, not fully understanding what to say, “You were still a teenager,” you say slowly, like you’re trying to convince both him and you. You hesitate, unsure whether you’re underplaying things, so the worlds come out a little jagged, not quite as comforting as you wished. “I guess…” It feels weak as your words suddenly stagger off.

Choso’s eyes flicker to yours, searching, like he’s trying to figure if there’s something else, you’re not saying, “What?”

You can practically hear Satoru’s voice in your heard, groaning and whining about screwing the long game. But you puff a breath through your cheeks, worried you’ll lose the nerve, “You know, I really liked you, right, Choso?”

Choso’s mouth drops open, as his face flickers with disbelief. The same way it had three years ago, “Like, really?”

You nod, a smile tugging at your lips without even thinking, “Yeah. And you know, everyone else thought I was being, like, silly. But I really liked you. I just never knew what to say to you.” It feels so stupid, and obvious now. But back then, it had been a great chunk of your world. You force yourself to hold his bashful gaze.

Choso’s quiet for a moment, before he admits, “I couldn’t believe it when you asked me to be your date. I thought it was just a game you were playing, or there was no-one left to ask.”

And then, after a beat, “Who did you go with?”

You snicker, a little too bitter and honest, “No-one.”

Choso’s quiet, relieved ‘damn’ makes you laugh even more, threading your fingers with his.

“I just can’t believe he’s in your classes. What are the odds?” Satoru mutters, abandoning his sunglasses for the evening, his bright eyes flashing like sunlight refracted on water. He claims that his eyes are less sensitive today, but you’re certain it’s an excuse for him to freely rifle through your kitchen without obstruction. In the living room, the rest of your friends hover like a pack of starved hyenas, waiting for the snacks that Satoru is currently monopolising.

“I’m telling you, when I first saw him, my heart dropped straight to my ass,” you say, tearing open a bag of sour cream crisps with more force than necessary. The chips tumble into the earthenware bowl in a noisy cascade.

Satoru snickers, expertly arranging small platters on a big, oaken serving board, “I pity the lack of cushioning it got.”

You flick a stray crisp at him, the chip bouncing off his shoulder with a gratifying crunch. For a moment, his grin is steady, but it quickly turns rueful. That slight furrow in his brows, the way the corner of his mouth twitches downwards. There’s something else simmering under that veneer of carelessness.

“You’re not happy, Satoru?”

His expression hardens slightly, plucking a cluster of wine-red grapes, twisting them off their stems with methodical precision.

“Well, yeah,” Satoru admits after a beat, his tone uncharacteristically sober, “I’m glad that he’s, like, nice now or whatever. But he basically broke your heart, didn’t he?”

You glance away, your fingers tighten on the corner of another snack bag, “He had his reasons.” Your flat reply avoids his curious gaze, perceptive and knowing. You hadn’t filled him on the Sukuna-lore. You’re not sure what it is, but there’s bad blood between the Gojos and Sukuna, and you’re not keen to exacerbate it.

Oh, hey, Satoru! So, Choso is like Sukuna’s adopted nephew. And I think Sukuna forced him to like clean up people’s chopped fingers and arms, or whatever. But I have a big crush on him, yep. Right after I said that I wouldn’t catch feelings again.

Satoru scoffs, wagging a long finger at you. A glistening droplet of grape juice clings to his thumb like a ruby bead, “Don’t make excuses for someone hurting your feelings. You know better than that.” His tone carries the same theatrical lilt as always, but it’s underpinned with something firmer, genuine.

Before you can fire back, a new voice meanders into the kitchen, soft and unhurried, “Who hurt your feelings?”

It’s Suguru, propped lazily against the doorway, choppy layers freshly framing his sharp features. The dim kitchen light catches on the faint sheen of his silver rings as he crosses his arms.

Satoru grabs a bag of pretzels, lobbing it towards him, “Choso Kamo. Remember that emo guy I told you about?”

Suguru catches the bag with practised ease, without looking, his mauve gaze flicking to you. You silently curse Gojo Satoru for broadcasting your love life, or lack thereof, to what feels like half the city.

“What’s he look like again?”

You narrow your eyes at the tall man, “He was literally in our grade.”

Suguru shrugs, his palms raised in mock innocence, “I never saw him, okay? He was quiet as hell, never had classes with him.”

“He wasn’t that quiet,” you protest, but your words are drowned out by Satoru’s triumphant declaration.

“Hold up! I got visual aid.”

He’s whipped out his phone, unlocking it with a brief glance of his face, before shoving the dimmed screen inches from Suguru’s puzzled face. The photo, a grainy yearbook photo of Choso in junior year, gleams under the kitchen lights. You wonder if you’re going to need to fight for your life on the frontlines again.

For a moment, Suguru’s expression remains neutral. Unimpressed even. Then, as if someone’s flipped a switch, his eyes widen with dawning recognition, “This is Kamo? His girlfriend’s my neighbour.”

Half a grape travels down Satoru’s windpipe, “The villain!”

Your best friend’s exclamation ricochets off the kitchen walls, loud enough to silence whatever protest was forming on your lips. Not that you had much ground to stand on. How would you even know? Choso had talked to you about his family, not his love life. You saw him a few times a week, and then the two of you would drift away, back to your own orbits. And he was a grown man with a life that had surely moved past you.

You had told him that you had liked him, and he hadn’t said a word back that hinted at any mutual connection. How had you missed that?”

Satoru is still recovering from his near demise at the hands of fruit, “What girlfriend? You’re sure, Suguru?”

Suguru raises an eyebrow, looking like he regrets ever opening his mouth, “Hey. Don’t pin this on me. But he comes by, with a little pink-haired kid. His brother? And she’s like talkative,” and he gestures vaguely above his head, “Like, really tall. Blonde.”

Your eyes had drifted to the unopened case of vodka sitting on the counter.

Satoru clocks you immediately, “Don’t even think about it. We’re going to handle this like mature adults.”

“We?”

Satoru nods solemnly, looping his arm through Suguru’s leather jacket, “Yes. Your Choso loss is my Choso loss,” and he pulls Suguru closer, “Our Choso loss.”

Suguru sighs, not shaking him off as he looks at you sympathetically, “Why am I a part of this? No offense. You could skip all this misery, and I don’t know because I’m just spit balling here, ask him?”

The dark-haired man continues, “Or, and I know this is radical for two divas like you, you could just let it go and spare yourself the drama. If you’re going to be working in the same field, wouldn’t professionalism be better?”

Satoru scoffs, “Or! We do some reconnaissance. I mean, you’re the girlfriend’s neighbour, Suguru. Go snoop around.”

“Why is it always me?” Suguru’s pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Because it is always you. You’ve got the best sneaky liar face I know,” Satoru replies breezily, ignoring how Suguru mutters about the love he feels in this kitchen, “And you need to do this for the greater good. All that noble shit.”

Suguru shoots you a half-hearted glare, as if this is somehow your fault, and not Satoru pulling every string. You’re one more inconvenience away from slumping onto the counter, head in hands, a shot glass by your side.

Your mind flickers to the hair tie that Choso always wears on his wrist. It could be innocuous, sure, but the green-eyed monster claws itself up in your chest. You imagine this faceless girlfriend passing it to him, like an intimate, inside joke.

“What am I supposed to do? Corner him in the break room on placements, and interrogate him? Should I pull out the clan funds, and pay him to date me?”

“It’s what I did with Suguru,” Satoru quips, not missing a beat.

“Now who’s the liar,” Suguru murmurs.

The hospital’s looming ahead. A hulking mass of glass and steel that outline the bleak sky. It’s a bitter Monday morning, the kind that bites at your cheeks and sinks into your bones, no matter how tightly you bundle up. The drive has been long and so utterly tedious, the pale sunlight doing little to brighten the cityscape as you crawl along congested streets.

Now, on the far edge of the suburbs, you’re left squinting and fuming as you circle the parking lot for the third time. The situation is grim, spots are scarce, and every turn feels like an ill-fated gamble that only ends in someone else’s bumper.

You mutter curses under your breath, the heater in your car doing little to thaw your mood.

Choso’s already there, not a massive surprise, for his apartment is far closer than your waterfront residence, smack-bang in the city’s central district. His dark hair is loosely tied back, and he’s thrown an old hoodie over his scrubs. There’s a clipboard tucked under his arm, and a coffee cup in the other.

He extends the cup towards you without preamble, “Want it?”

You blink, catching on the incongruity of the gesture. But Suguru’s intel still echoes in your mind, he has a girlfriend.

You furrow your brow, the cup hovering between you, “Where’s yours?”

Choso shrugs, “I don’t drink coffee. Makes me jittery.”

This answer irritates you for no logical reason. Who doesn’t drink coffee? It feels like some fundamental character flaw, and you snatch the cup from his hand. Doing your very best not to unfairly glare at him, for the sole crime of having a life outside of you.

It’s hard to focus when he’s nailed your exact order. You lower the cup, the warmth seeping through the cardboard sleeve and into your fingers, doing little to melt the icy knot that sits in your chest.

Choso seems almost unnervingly chipper this morning, a far cry from his usual brooding demeanour. There’s no scowl etched on his handsome face, no trace of his typical stoicism. Instead, he wears the faintest trace of a smile, a subtle and almost tentative thing that pulls at the corners of his mouth as he glances over a nearly printed itinerary.

The sight throws you further off-kilter. It’s rare to see him like this, easy and unguarded, and you can’t help the way your lips twitch, the barest hint of a smile threatening to escape before you smother it.

“We’re starting in the ER for two hours,” he reads aloud, voice steady, “then, the paediatric unit.” He pauses to flip the page, his expression shifting to mild exasperation, “And then, paperwork in the break room.”

“Figures,” you grumble, tucking your hands into your coat pockets, “Free labour from the students, yeah?”

Choso glances at you, from the corner of his eye, an unimpressed but faintly amused look on his face, “Thought that you would start the day with a more upbeat attitude.”

You grunt in response, which only earns a shake of his head as he folds the itinerary back into his clipboard.

A beat of silence stretches between you, only punctured by the sound of light metal snapping as you clip a badge to your pocket, but he’s speaking again.

“You good?”

His bronze eyes flick to yours, clearly searching, and your pulse stutters, “Yeah. Obviously.”

Choso takes a deep breath, his chest rising and gearing up for something monumental. The way his fingers fidget against the clipboard betrays him, they tap out a staccato rhythm. There’s a flush creeping on the back of his neck, subtle but unmistakeable.

“Want to get dinner tonight?” He blurts, the words tumbling out so fast that they barely sound like a sentence.

You blink at him, confused, “Bless you.” Your automatic response, because he spoke so quickly that it sounded as though he had sneezed.

Choso’s scowl is immediate, “No.” He says it firmly, drawing out each word in exasperation, “I asked if you wanted to get dinner tonight. After this.”

Oh. Oh.

The realisation hits you like a jolt, and for a second, all you can do is gape at him. He’s looking at you now, an almost defiant sort of expectation in his gaze, as though he’s worried that you’re going to laugh at him. But before you piece together a coherent response, there’s a sharp rap-rap-rap of knuckles on the doorframe.

The ward manager is here, her expression brisk and no-nonsense, gesturing for the two of you to begin your shift placement.

Your head snaps back at him, mouth moving before your brain diplomatically catches up, “I don’t think that’s fair to your girlfriend, do you?”

Choso’s brows knit together, his expression shifting to something startled and indignant. Irritated, even, as you push past him.

He’s trying to speak to you. It’s painfully obvious, as he’s got that mildly dazed look. All that awkward, earnest attention is squarely focused on you.

You’re having none of it.

He steps to your side as you shuffle through patient charts, his broad frame taking up more than his fair share of narrow space, shadowing your elbow as you scribble furious notes. His mouth opens, probably to say something that you don’t want to hear, but you’re faster.

“Hey, Choso, what’s her blood pressure?” You interrupt, not bothering to look up from the faintly lined paper.

There’s a second of hesitation before he answers, “120 over 50. Just write that down. Got it? Okay, yeah, can you stop moving for a second and —”

You squint at the chart, cutting him off again, “Hmm, don’t you think that the diastolic is a little low?”

His shoulders slump, “Yes, but the doctors already know that. She has hypothyroidism, you told me that when you interrupted me like half an hour ago. Can’t you just —” Choso stops mid-sentence again, muttering a resigned oh my god, when you pivot away and head to the next room without so much a glance back.

It sets the tone for the rest of the shift. You make a sport of avoiding him, weaving through the emergency department like a fish slipping upstream, leaving Choso stranded in your wake. He follows, persistent in his mild-mannered way, but you’re relentless.

“Can you hand me that chart?” He’s trying again, as you’re elbow deep in filing.

“Oh, this one?” You sweetly ask, holding it just out of his reach, before conveniently remembering that you need to double-check something on it. He just huffs at you.

By hour three, it’s clear that Choso’s patience is wearing thin, and fighting a war against his professionalism. He corners you near the supply cart while you rummage for gloves.

“There you are.”

“Oh, are we low on size medium?” You cut in, loud enough to catch the attention of a passing manager, “Should we restock?”

Choso inhales through his nose, “We’re not low on gloves. We’re fine on gloves. Can you stop talking about gloves for one second?”

You flash him a smile that’s all teeth, “Gloves are important, Choso. Hygiene is crucial.”

This time, you see him run an exasperated hand over his face, before realising that now he’s just contaminated his own pair of gloves. Snarling at you as he rips the blue latex off and reaching for the size large box.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, once and then twice. Then thrice, as if whoever’s contacting you as something urgent to say. You ignore it, you’ll check it after placements.

The hours tick by, and your strategy remains the same. Stay busy, stay distant, and stay unreachable. Don’t make it seem like you’re irrationally bothered by Choso having a life of his own and having a girlfriend. Or that you actually had hope that this time round, his feelings for you were requited.

By the time you both stumble into the break room, Choso looks as if he’s experienced the full emotional spectrum, like he’s been knocked through the five stages of grief and landed somewhere in the resigned space of acceptance. He looks as if he’s clearly preparing to lecture you, to tirade you on professional conduct and —

Without warning, his phone buzzes.

You don’t even look up from cracking open your water bottle, the sound of plastic barely crinkles louder than the dull thud of your own heartbeat. Choso glances at you out of the corner of his eyes, a flash of alarm crossing his face, before he draws his attention back to the screen of his phone.

You hear the faintest scoff from his direction, and he’s shaking his head as you watch in mild interest.

“What?”

Choso doesn’t answer immediately, still scrolling through his phone.

“I’m not dating Tsukumo Yuki.”

Your mouth goes dry. You blink rapidly, wide-eyed as if he’s just spoken in an ancient, dead language.

“What?” You manage weakly, “Who? What? —”

There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, and you fear the cause of this slow and curling chest is a meddling duo of two men, one with dark hair and the other with snowy-white.

Choso doesn’t even glance up at you, his voice tinged with something incredulous now, “Why is Gojo Satoru texting me? He says that you’re not replying to his or Geto Suguru’s messages. And apparently, this is super urgent, and he feels like he must do his divine duty by interfering before you do something stupid.

Choso pauses, finally looking at you as if he’s truly baffled, “And you all thought that I was dating Tsukumo.”

You’re crafting a list in your head. Twenty creative ways to kill Gojo Satoru and not land in prison afterwards.

Maybe you should ask Choso for Ryomen Sukuna’s contact.

“That’s crazy,” you say, the words tasting thin and hollow in a bitter, embarrassed lie.

Choso shakes his head at you, some dark strands of hair falling across his eyes, “She looks after Yuuji sometimes. I take him over to her place because Yuki’s adopted a kid, Todo. The two of them are friends.”

“Uh.”

Choso turns back to his phone screen, scrolling through whatever nonsense Satoru is feeding him, “Have you being icing me out all day, because you thought I had a girlfriend?”

“Will you hate me if I say yes?” You’re looking anywhere but him, focusing on the chipped, lilac paint on the break-room door. Or the slightly off-centre light bulb flickering above. Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you’re adding Geto Suguru to your kill list.

Choso’s voice is softer when he answers, almost too quiet, “Hey. You know I couldn’t hate you if I tried.” But there’s a strange mixture of amusement and disbelief in his voice, a bemused chuckle that lingers in the air, “Wow. Just wow.”

You grimace, fingers toying with the edge of the water bottle as you wrangle your thoughts into words, “Are you mad? I mean, look. I told you I liked you. And then you held my hands, so I thought you liked me back. And you got me coffee. But Suguru said you had a girlfriend, and you can’t blame me for being — Oh my god, I’m going to stop talking, you’re looking at me like I’ve gone crazy.”

Choso’s expression shifts, just staring at you. You don’t more than a split-second to process his strangely intense look. There’s no time to recover before he leans down, his hands surprisingly warm and gentle as they cradle the side of your face.

Your breath hitches, but before you can form another thought, his lips are on yours. They’re warm, deliberate and surprisingly firm. The scent of crisp green apples falls over you, as his hair envelops your face.

He pulls back just enough to study you, “Was that okay?” he asks, his fingers still lingering at the curve of your jaw, like he can’t believe he just kissed you. You can feel the sharp blush sting your face, as your heart practically goes into cardiac arrest, nodding quickly.

“Uh, I’m not really an expert in this field,” Choso murmurs, “But I can’t believe that I waited this long to do that.”

“You can do that again,” you say. Wondering if you should buy Satoru and Suguru a bouquet of flowers instead.

Choso, predictably, blushes deep enough that it nearly looks like he might combust. His eyes flicker away, avoiding your gaze in that way he does when he’s trying to sort through his emotions. But it’s hard to miss the warm flush that’s firmly planted on his neck.

“Can I do it over that dinner?” Choso murmurs, his voice dipping lower, before he quickly rephrases, “I obviously do want to kiss you now, again, that is, but if they catch us in the break room —”

You suddenly beam up at him, patting him on the cheek, “You can kiss me as much as you like over dinner.”

Choso looks as though he’s been struck with a metaphorical thunderbolt, as if he didn’t expect you to agree so straightforwardly. And then, as if he can’t help himself, he presses a quick and soft kiss to your forehead. For the briefest second, it feels as if you’re a teenager again, caught in the whirlwind of something simple and so sweet.

“Okay. So, is that a yes?” He asks, a little breathless, as if he’s not sure what kind of confirmation he’s just gotten but needing it to hear it anyway.

“If it’s a proper date, it’s a yes.”

Choso mutters under his breath, “You know Geto Suguru texted me with a five-paragraph apology, something about sneaking around my apartment. Stalking me this morning,” and here, he looks at you, utterly exasperated but fond, “Something about checking to see if I had a girlfriend. I mean, I don’t even know the guy. We never talked in school.”

You loop your arm with his, pulling him in slightly, “See, I always did say my friends were super nice. They’re going to be super nice, and normal. Trust me.”

ONE WEEK LATER.

“And to my brother-in-law, my brother-in-arms, my brother in the Constantinople Crusades of 1204,” Satoru hiccups, his words slurring together in a rambled mess, as he sways over the edge of Suguru’s arms, and for a split second, you’re worried the white-haired man is going to tip over entirely, “My new brother, Choso. We always knew it was going to happen, eh?”

Choso’s cheeks turn a faint shade of crimson in the sudden spotlight as everyone cheers, and he shifts awkwardly. Suguru’s shooting him an apologetic look, the corners of his mouth twitching as he props Satoru up, “He’s a lightweight. And we watched a historical movie last night.”

“I can tell,” Choso grumbles, his face flushed now as Satoru’s monologue drifts like an aimless plastic bag in the wind, his words growing nonsensical as you reach over to pinch at his cheeks. He yelps but continues to babble on about how he and Choso are going to be best friends now, and they’re going to go shopping together, and ice-skating, and fruit-picking. All nonsense burbles being strung together by the tequila shots that Satoru swore he could handle an hour ago.

You glance over at Choso, faintly embarrassed, but he just laughs, a sound that’s unexpectedly light and unguarded. His fingers slide into yours once more, and the motion is gentle and natural, as though this, you, are exactly where he’s meant to be. And he drapes the wide expanse of his aviator jacket over your shoulders.

Meanwhile, Suguru is wrestling with Satoru, pushing him back down from his impromptu toast to your boyfriend, before the bartender can usher you all towards the exit. The burly man is already giving Satoru’s drunken proclamations a nasty look.

Shoko, of course, is grinning at you, a tankard of beer glimmering in front of her. Her eyes gleam with the sharpness of someone who’s won a decent amount of money in a bet. And Utahime is standing back with a faintly judgemental expression that only veils her gossipy curiosity, and a glum look as she passes wads of cash into Shoko’s waiting hands.

“They really do like me,” Choso murmurs, his voice low and almost carrying the undertone of vulnerability, alongside some quiet self-awareness.

You laugh, brushing your thumb over the back of his hand, leaning in to press a quick peck to the dark mark that streaks over his face, “They all have no choice. You’re my boyfriend now.”

The words slip out effortlessly, and for a moment, they hang between you like something solid and unspoken, as though saying it aloud has made it feel real in a way it never quite did before. Choso’s eyes flick to yours, and something shifts in his expression — just a slight softening around the edges.

Then, without warning, you lean in, closing the distance between you, and kiss him. It’s slow, deliberate, with none of the frantic energy of your first kiss but instead the quiet certainty of something just beginning to bloom. You feel the faintest sigh from Nanami in the background, the sound of Geto groaning as Gojo whoops with drunken delight.

The noise from the bar fades into nothing as you focus entirely on the warmth of Choso’s shy lips against yours, the gentle pressure as he presses more into you, the soft thud of his heartbeat where your hand rests over his chest. For that moment, it’s just you and him, and everything else is an afterthought.

“Okay! I’ve had enough of the lot of you snogging and yelling in my bar! And take stupid Jack Frost out with ya’!”

[lxkeee]

Hi, could I request a Lucifer morningstar x darkness demon overlord reader? She lurks in the shadows like a boogeyman, she acts like morticia adams from the adams family, how would he meet or act around the gothic queen👁👁✨

LUCIFER X OVERLORD! FEM! READER

Part two

Lucifer was just wandering around hell, unknowingly entering a territory of an overlord.

He doesn't know okay? It's just a forest of dead wilted trees with ominous aura.

His first instinct is to investigate.

This is his first time coming here, he only discovered this area after flying by to return to the palace.

Lucifer was walking around the dense forest, with his guard up.

The forest was quiet. A little too quiet.

He isn't afraid, unfortunately. He knows he can kill any demon who would try to mess with him.

Crack. A twig snapped

His head whipped to the direction of the noise, “Who goes there? Show yourself!” he threatens, wings in full display.

Shadows moving around him and finally stopping in front of him, morphing into a figure.

Lucifer expected a lot of things, but this.

A very tall and gorgeous woman, large deer antlers on her head. Sultry eyes and a smirk on her face.

Oh fuck, she's beautiful. Dangerous. He can sense the power she has.

“Good evening your highness, I didn't expect to see you here wandering around my home.” the woman says with a chuckle, making the man become a little flustered.

“Your home...?” he asked hesitantly and the woman nodded.

“Yes, this is my home or rather my territory. My home is somewhere around here. I just sensed a presence around these grounds and decided to check. I didn't expect to see the king of hell to be here.”

“M-my apologies, my lady. I simply didn't know.” he stammers a bit. Ah, calm yourself Lucifer. You're more powerful so you shouldn't be intimidated, he says to himself internally.

“It is alright, if you don't mind. Do you want to join me for a cup of tea? I just so happen to have finished brewing some.”

Lucifer is cautious around sinners, especially her. He doesn't know why his heart is palpitating this much. The best reason he got is fear loud incorrect buzzer noise

“I don't want to intrud—”

“Nonsense! You're not intruding.”

“But—”

“Do not fret, I am not going to hurt you. I should be the scared one as you are much more powerful than me. I am sure you can obliterate my existence with a flick of your finger.” the woman laughs softly, a kind of laugh that reminds him of the books he's read. The kind of laugh that draws you in.

“How about this, how about we get acquainted with each other? So that you'll be more comfortable?”

Lucifer's eyes narrowed, “Why are you so insistent?”

“Well, I just love making friends and you my dear seem to be an interesting character that I don't mind befriending.”

Lucifer rolls his eyes but eventually nodded, “Fine, My name is Lucifer Morningstar.”

“Wonderful, then... It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Lucifer, my name is [y/n]” She says before gently holding his hand and placing a small kiss on his knuckles.

With a smirk on her face as her eyes looked at him as she did so.

Lucifer's cheeks reddened, quickly snatching his hand away from the demoness.

“So, about that tea?”

Lucifer is beginning to see a pattern.

A type even.

It's been a few months since he's met the deer demoness.

Surprisingly he managed to get along with her, despite her... Rather questionable actions.

He often visits her mansion at the middle of the forest where he met her or the other way around.

She often surprises him by popping out of the shadows with her presence concealed.

She's playful, mysterious, dangerous, beautiful.

And tall.

He likes his women tall okay?

And he likes them a little deranged.

Anyways.

She keeps teasing him.

Just like the other day, he came to visit at the wrong time and she forced him to help her get dressed.

It was inappropriate! She only asked him to zip the zipper of her dress.

Poor guy was blushing.

She didn't make fun of his obsession with rubber ducks.

She even made ducks out of shadows and made it swim around his room and of course, he made one too with his powers.

The shadows and gold dust ducks swimming around the room and in the air.

It was... Cute...

Lucifer has gotten to know the woman better too, he has gotten the chance to see many sides of her.

Lucifer isn't stupid, he can tell he's developing feelings for her.

He's afraid, he's afraid of getting hurt again or hurting her.

He has issues he needed to fix first.

Though, he is slightly a flustered mess around the woman.

Can you blame him? She calls him endearing nicknames! She calls him sweetheart and it just makes his heart flutter.

He is cautious around her not because he's afraid of her but because he fears his feelings for her would accidentally be known.

And she just appears out of nowhere!

It took awhile for him to sort his emotions and he thinks he is finally ready to confess.

But first, Lucifer needs to find hints if she feels the same way.

“Thanks for the coffee, [y/n]. It tastes amazing as always.” Lucifer says, admiring the duck shaped cream that is floating on his coffee.

“It is a pleasure, sweetheart. Drink to your heart's content. I know you've been stressed lately.” She says with a gentle voice.

“I have a question.” he started, already planning a discreet way to ask her.

“Hmm? Go ahead.”

“What if let's say... You have a close friend and you've only known him for a couple of months but they fell in love with you and now they're planning to confess to you? Would you date him?”

Don't mind him guys, he's trying his best.

[y/n] tilts her head slightly, confused before giggling.

She's not stupid but she kinda wants to tease him.

“Depending on who this friend is.”

“Just answer.” he deadpans.

“Yes, would you confess though?” she asked as she leans forward to reach him across the table, holding his chin. Lips just a few inches away from each other.

Lucifer.exe has stopped working.

“Y-yes...” he stammers, beginning to feel shy as his cheeks heat up.

“Do you want a kiss?” she asked teasingly.

“Please...?”

“Good boy.” she says before finally pressing her lips against his.

It was the most addicting kiss he ever experienced.

“I like you.”

“I like me too.”

“[y/n]!”

“I am just joking, I like you too.”

[bwabys-scenarios]

warning: pregnancy, Kurapika won’t let you give the baby up for adoption, obsessive and possessive behavior, reader is kidnapped

Imagine having a one night stand with Yandere!Kurapika and he ghosts you after… only to come to your door with chocolates and flowers after you tell him you’re pregnant.

It’s not like he didn’t like you, no Kurapika was beyond thrilled to have you in his bed, but he also knew that trying to stay with you would only get in the way of his goals. So, although it hurt, he decided to cut you off. He got to be with you for one amazing night, and he’d cherish that forever.

Well… his life changed when you sent him a picture of a positive pregnancy test. You sent it in desperation, crying because you feared that one of the people you cherished had only been in it for sex. It hurt so much, and it was only made worse when your period didn’t come.

So you sent that picture, asking him to please help you, to tell you what to do.

And he didn’t respond, leaving you on read.

It was devastating, to say the least. You spent the entire day crying, stressed out of your mind. Were you really going to have to deal with this all on your own?

That’s what you thought, until your doorbell rang near midnight. You weren’t woken up, in fact you had been pacing your apartment for the past few hours trying to think of what you should do about your predicament.

So you walked to the door, eyes puffy and red from crying. “K-Kurapika?”

Behind the door stood the man that had been causing you so much heartache, your best friend of 4 years, Kurapika. His cheeks were slightly flushed, and in his arms were a box of expensive chocolates and a bouquet of elegant flowers.

“(Name), oh my angel…”

He stepped in, setting the flowers and chocolates aside before pulling you into his arms to kiss your forehead. Kurapika’s hand instantly settled on your belly, as if already checking for any changes in your body with his soft, warm palm.

“I’m here, and I’m ready to be a father. When I got your message I was ecstatic, I’ve always wanted to rebuild my clan-“

You pulled away, pushing his hands off of you. “Kurapika, where the hell have you been and why haven’t you been answering my calls? You can’t just waltz in here and expect me to be fine with you ghosting me!”

“(Name), love, I-“

“Love? I’m not your love, Kurapika. You pushed me away and left me all alone when I needed you most… how can I trust you to be a father when I can’t trust you to be here for me?”

Kurapika was silent, his expression unreadable as he let you continue your rant.

“You just… you left me after we had sex, Kurapika! You left me all alone… it made me feel like I was nothing, like you only wanted one thing from me.”

You teared up from embarrassment and frustration. It had been humiliating to wake up to an empty bed with not so much as a note or text from him saying where he had gone. And then he wouldn’t answer your calls…

“I’m… I’m sorry, (Name).”

You rubbed your teary eyes. “Whatever. I’ll carry this baby, but it’s going up for adoption. I can’t raise it alone.”

This made Kurapika freeze, his eyes going wide with shock and terror. “(Name)… no, you can’t be serious. It’s my baby too, we should raise it together. I want to be a father!”

“You gave up any chances of that happening when you abandoned me. I hope your mission is truly worth it Kurapika, because I want nothing else to do with you.”

You pointed to the door, your lip wobbling and your brows furrowed. “Now leave! I n-never want to see you again!”

Kurapika was oddly quiet, his now scarlet eyes trained on you. You had never seen him look this way before… he seemed… deranged.

“I’m not leaving, (Name).”

He grabbed your wrist with enough strength to scare you. Kurapika wasn’t hurting you, but it was obvious that he easily could if he wanted to. “L-let go of me, what the h-“

Kurapika tightened his grip on your wrist when you struggled, his face neutral. “(Name), this baby is mine, and so are you. Calm down, or I’ll make you calm down.”

Your heart started to race. Who was this person? You maybe have been mad at Kurapika, but you would have never thought in a million years that he would do something like this!

You were scared now, trembling. “Let me go… please, just let me go.”

He softened slightly, his grip easing up a little. “I can’t, (Name). You’re coming with me, it’s obvious to me now that I can’t bear to be without you. And now that I know you’re pregnant…”

His eyes darted to your belly, and he reached out a hand to gently caress it again. “I can’t let you out if my sight. You’re under my care now.”

Before you could protest, you felt yourself growing tired, your limbs heavy. He caught you in his arms and lifted you up, cooing softly as he caressed your cheek. “There, there, my angel. Everything will be okay. I’ll prove to you how devoted I am, and you’ll never want to leave my side. Just sleep, when you wake up everything will be better.”

And as you drifted off, unable to stay awake, you could barely make out the sight of his car… and two suitcases in the backseat.

‘He planned this… planned to… take me away…’

That was the last thing you thought before passing out. As you slept, Kurapika bucked you up, using a pillow to cushion your head. He still couldn’t help but place his palm on your belly.

“I promise… from now on, I’ll never let you out of my sight. You’re both my responsibility…”

From that day forward, you would never know true freedom again. Kurapika had you now, and he would never let you go. Not you, the mother of his child, the love of his life.

Together forever, that’s how you would stay. He was sure of that.

[yanderemommabean]

Am I the only one who needs to be strapped down by the wrists and ate out against my will by alpha elias while I struggle to not show how good everything feels and beg for him to stop despite my arching body telling him the opposite?

Bonus if he flips darling over, jerks their hips upwards and sets a teasing pace with one hand pushing their upper body down so they can’t do anything but arch backwards into him and grip the sheets for dear life. All the while licking a stripe up their neck before burying his teeth into their nape to mark them, growling possessively when they refuse to moan for him, digging deeper and thrusting into them harder until they whimper in submission.

Bonus Bonus if it’s Doc Lee’s butterfly and he’s made to watch, threatening to cum inside them if he looks away.

((Female reader! Hope you beans can enjoy!))

“You’re so cute when you try to fight this” The deranged man murmurs against your skin, ice once again filling your veins as his fingers come to clutch at your thighs to spread them apart, massaging the meat and fat of them as he soaks in the sight of you, bare and open, ready for him to gorge himself on.

“The fact no one has kissed every scar and told you they were beautiful paint strokes on your canvas, shows me there’s truly less hope for humanity than I thought” Elias praises as his fingers begin to trace up and down your hips and the apex of your thighs. “Every pretty vein, every mark and mole, every scar from small to large deserves to be savored and kissed. You’re a beautiful soul who does nothing but give and give and give” he murmurs, placing a soft kiss to the top of your mound. “Such battle scars. Gorgeous even if they came from a time of hideous treatment to you”.

You feel his warm breath against you while your bindings only tighten, holding you still as the maniac worships you, praises you like you’re truly a relic or a god, as if He truly believed you gave him a purpose. You were ashamed of how your breath was stolen from you, his nimble fingers hardly touching you yet bringing out such pleasure, even when in such a state of panic.

“I know you say you don’t want this, that you only have feelings for that rat of a doctor…But I know he’s just simply brainwashed you. He doesn’t know how to treat you, hoards you like an object rather than spoil you like a lover”.

You spit something out to him, but the gag in your mouth doesn’t allow it to truly be heard. It's just more amusement for the psycho as you tremble and hiss like a terrified cat. How absolutely precious. Elias just grins, wicked and wild as he helps turn your head to face the right of you, where in the corner of the room, Lee had been bound and gagged as well, anger clear in his eyes and features as he venomously spews words that are muffled and garbled.

Elias just kisses down your bare body once again, amused and gleeful as the doctor struggles. “Oh don't tell me you thought this was a private show? Tsk tsk tsk then how would that doctor learn his lesson? No no my dear, he’s going to watch, and you are going to be good and put on a good show. I’d hate to have to take his fingers or pull his teeth, but if you insist on misbehaving…I can give it a shot”.

Oh god he was serious. Lee wouldn’t ever be caught, not by someone so easily. But again, Elias isn’t just anyone. He’s at this facility for a reason. His hand comes to cup your warmth, slowly letting his fingers spread your lips so he could feel the dewy skin, shuddering as he breathes in your scent. “Don't be too in your own head, lovely. Just relax, let me take care of everything else. Lee will be fine, if he can behave. Don't worry your cute little head about it”.

You whimper at that, his fingers sliding up your folds to toy with your clit, his eyes molten and hot as they watched you writhe and gasp from just a few quick circles being rubbed. Cute. You must really be pent up if that's all that gets you going. Not that he minds, mind you. Sensitivity just means more fun for him.

“Good. So good for me. Look at you, arching into my touch already. I haven’t even done anything” he muses, sliding his body back down until your legs were once again around his head, not that they had much of a choice. He hears Lees grunts and muffled vulgarity, but pays it no mind as he drags his tongue up from your fluttering hole to your twitching clit, greedily sucking the bud while his shoulders relax.

Yes. This is exactly where he needs to be. Between your thighs while you use his face, make him your little toy to use and throw away when you’re done. But of course, Lee had to try and take that luxury away from him too. If he had it his way, well, you’d be doing a lot more room visits for him that’s for sure. He doesn't mind following the majority of rules in this place, but he draws the fucking line at Lee trying to take you away from him.

Listening to your moans and whimpers as his tongue happily laps away, it almost makes him forget that the doctor is in here, watching as he drinks your ambrosia. He almost hates that he’s here, listening to you, but having him just an arms reach away and unable to take you, it gave him a wicked feeling of amusement.

His soft petal lips suck on your folds, moving to suck on your little bud aggressively as you gasp and try to kick, the pleasure shooting up your spine being too much and making you go taut, before once again relaxing as he holds your legs still and drags his tongue through your wetness again and again like a thirsty animal, drool covering his chin as he loses himself and tries to show your body just how much he loves you, loves your smell, your warmth, your taste- everything about you was mouth watering.

You have fresh tears dripping down your beautiful face when his viper like eyes stare back up at you, and his cock only throbs harder. He loves sending you to such planes of bliss that it’s too much to handle. So much love that you can’t fathom, so you cry. Every time you climax, it’s a sign of how much you love each other, right? That has to be why your pretty eyes are so wet and weary. You just feel so much love, you don't know what to do.

Don’t worry. He knows exactly what you need.

His hands grip your legs more firmly, lifting them up so they rested on his shoulders as he completely loses himself in you, giving you no reprieve or break as his mouth gets to work, slurping, sucking, licking and swirling right where you need it to, bringing you to the edge and not just tipping you over- with how strong it felt you might as well have been launched off, your body arching and shaking as Elias still, rather obscenely, eats you out, helping you ride through the orgasm as he continues drinking you down and savoring you on his tongue.

It’s wet, his face is covered, sweat drool and your essence is dripping down his face as he pulls away to lick his lips, chuckling darkly as he rubs up and down your legs that were still shaking on his shoulders. “Did that feel good? You came so hard baby, looked so beautiful, so sexy. Just a few more and I think it’ll shake that stage fright, don't you? Then we can really show that doctor over there how your body should be worshiped”.

(Hey! engage in some way if you enjoyed! Tell me what you thought! Comments show I'm doing good, or what I can improve on :3 Thanks for reading! -Mommabean )

[witchygagirlwrites]

Our Girl

Greg "Mouse" Gerwitz x Reader x Jay Halstead/ Gerstead x Reader

Your boys don't get jealous over each other. They know they both own your heart equally but when a night out results in another man trying to hit on you they feel the need to remind themselves that you're theirs.

Warnings: This is just smut. @desimarie12 we are deranged lol

You felt Mouse’s hand on your lower back as you walked into Mollys between him and Jay. You cut your eyes at him and he gave you a smile that made your heart flip “You know these jeans and that low cut of a top are gonna get us in trouble tonight, don’t you?” You offered him an innocent smile “Gerwitz I have no idea what you’re talking about. You two said we were gonna go out with the rest of the unit to grab a few drinks. I dressed comfortably and cute”

Jay turned once the two of you were inside and stepped close enough to you his voice was barely above a whisper but sent a shiver down your spine “Let one of these asshole think they can put their hand on you and you’ll see” you swallowed hard but managed to keep your face neutral to look between your boyfriends “Since when can I not wear what I want?”

Mouse laughed “Oh baby, believe us when we say that you can wear whatever the hell you want. We know we can fight” you shook your head and took Jay’s offered hand before reaching back for Mouse’s. 

Kelly called out a greeting when he spotted the three of you, so did Stella. Fifty one along with the twenty first knew that the three of you were a package deal and surprisingly enough no one had barely blinked an eye. Herrman had simply asked just how big of a bed you owned. 

When the three of you made it to the booths that intelligence had staked a claim to Kim grinned when she saw you “Y/N!” you let go of both Mouse and Jay to pull her into a hug then hugged Hailey as well. Jay kissed the side of your head “You want your usual baby?” you nodded “Yes please”  

He headed to the bar with Adam and Kevin in tow. He did that on purpose. The men out of the bunch always made sure at least one was left with the women when you all went out as a group because in Jay’s words “You three are capable but like it or not one of us does dissuade assholes” 

Mouse cut his eyes at you when you slid into the booth between Kim and Hailey “Am I not sitting with you?” Kim waved a hand at him “You’ll be ok for a little while. You have eyes on her” Kim loved to tease him and Jay about how protective they were, even though when it was just the two of you she always told you how adorable she thought it was. He shook his head but you saw the small smirk pulling at his lips as he sat on Hailey’s other side.

When Jay came back he raised an eyebrow at the fact that you weren’t sitting next to Mouse. Hailey pointed her finger at him “Do not start too” he held up his hands defensively “Easy partner. I was just making sure I didn’t have to sleep between an argument tonight, that was all” and everyone around the table started laughing.

You and Hailey somehow managed to convince Jay and Mouse that you, her and Kim would be fine if the guys wanted to play pool. “C’mon loves, you’re in yelling distance. Kelly is at the bar, Cruz is two tables over” you told them and they shared a look “One game”

You watched them walk off and Kim laughed lightly “I can barely deal with Adam some days without wanting to choke him,how do you handle two? No offense you know I love Jay and Mouse” you laughed “None taken, we have a code around the house for when someone needs alone time. The other two have to respect it”

Hailey nodded “Makes sense” Kim shook her head “You three have a smoother relationship then anyone else I know” you smiled proudly, looking over at the pool table where Jay and Mouse were racking up “Believe me it took some adjusting to get here” 

You were laughing at a story Kim was telling you about Adam and Kevin attempting to make her niece a birthday cake and mixing up baking soda with baking powder. “Oh those sweet sweet idiots”  you weren’t really paying attention to anyone approaching the table for the simple fact Mollys was normally a place where you worked with or knew most of the crowd.

Kim looked past your head and her eyes widened right before you heard a throat clear. Your head whipped towards the sound because for one it was rude to clear your throat instead of verbally saying excuse me and for two anyone you knew would have simply called either of your names.

A man stood next to the table. He wore a fitted suit that screamed lawyer and the expensive watch and cologne he wore matched it perfectly. He wasn’t unattractive but compared to the men you shared your life with? He was sort of laughable. You seriously hoped he was shooting his shot at Kim or Hailey. 

When his eyes locked onto you Kim groaned under her breath and Hailey chuckled “This is gonna get good” you took a deep breath as he said “I noticed you’re just sitting with your girlfriends, can I buy you a drink?” you smiled “No thanks, I’m spoken for”

God bless his heart he didn’t take the hint. He tried to place his hand on top of yours but you quickly snatched it away “A beautiful woman like you is spoken for but your man left you alone? Doesn’t seem like much of a man to me?” 

_________________

“Oh shit” Adam muttered which got Jay’s attention. He looked up and followed his line of sight and what he saw made his blood boil. “Greg” he didn’t even get Mouse out at the moment. Some sleazy ass guy attempting to put his hand on you.

“I’ll fucking kill him” Mouse growled, throwing the pool cue onto the table. “Not if I kill him first,” Jay added. Both men moved across the bar, the regulars quickly catching onto the scene and realizing what was happening.

_________________

“Look buddy” you tried but before you could get anything more out you spotted your boyfriends and boy did they look pissed. Jay grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around “Did you really just try to put your hand on our girl?”

The guy looked between Jay and Mouse “Your girl?” and a smirk started to form on his face. “Oh god” you groaned, sliding out of the booth to get between your boyfriends and the guy who really didn’t deserve to get his jaw broken in four places just because he was sleazy. “Loves, he didn’t touch me” 

“Baby, move” Mouse told you, his voice level which you knew was worse. You sighed and stepped to the side. Jay threw a hard right, catching the guy across the jaw then Mouse bought his knee up into the guy’s gut. When he hit the floor Jay crouched down over him “Look buddy, I know for a fact she told you no more than once. Take the fact that we didn’t break anything as a win”

You knew Herrman and Stella would take their side so that was no issue when the bouncer headed your way. Jay gave him a nod and grabbed your hand before telling the rest of the unit the three of you were headed him.

You could feel every eye on you as you moved through the bar but you couldn’t think about anything but the heat coming off the man in front of you and the one behind you. When you got outside the cool night air hit your face and Jay passed your hand over to Mouse when you got to his truck. When he unlocked it Mouse opened the passenger side door and motioned for you to get in. You saw that Jay had moved the console up so you slid in next to Jay and felt Mouse’s thigh hit yours.

Not a single word was spoken on the drive home but Mouse’s left hand kept a deathly grip on your right thigh while Jay’s right hand had to have left marks on your left thigh. 

When Jay pulled into the driveway and killed the engine you swallowed hard. They could not possibly be mad at you for some asshole. That would be like if you got pissed at them every time a woman checked one of them out, you’d never not be pissed.  Jay looked over your head at Mouse and you weren’t sure what was passed in that look but Mouse opened the passenger side door and offered you his hand to get out.

You slid out of the truck and headed for the front door, hearing their boots behind you as you dug your keys out of your pocket. You unlocked the door and stepped inside, they followed you in, still silent as you hung up your jacket then locked the door back. 

They both hung up their jackets and you sighed, done with the silent treatment and headed for the bedroom. You planned to just grab some clothes and sleep on the couch if need be. 

___________

You walked into the bedroom and stopped in front of your dresser, feeling tears prick at your eyes. You didn’t even hear them come in the room behind you so when Jay slipped his arms around your waist, pulling you back against his chest a little gasp of surprise left you. He chuckled lightly as his lips teased at the sensitive skin of your neck “Baby, we’re not mad at you so don’t you dare think that”

Mouse slipped in front of you, his hands going to your belt loops to pull you closer to him so he could brush his lips against yours. The kiss started gentle but when you slipped your tongue past his lips he groaned, hands moving to your hips, gripping tightly. 

You broke away from Mouse to tilt your head back to catch Jay’s lips in a bruising kiss. When you pulled away from him he chased your lips, a small pout gracing his face “Why were you two so quiet?” you asked and Mouse grinned “Because baby, you don’t know how bad that pissed us off”

“That jackass thought he could touch you” Jay spoke low, teeth nipping at your neck as Mouse let his hands slip under your shirt to tease at your breasts through the thin bra you wore “Nobody messes with what's ours baby” Mouse reminded you and you moaned lightly from a mixture of what they were doing and their words “What’s yours huh? I’m not your property” you spoke and Jay shook his head against your neck “We know that but you’re our girl aren’t you?”

“Always” you promised and Mouse smiled, tugging your shirt up so you let him pull it up and over your head “Then just let us remind ourselves that you are all ours, please” you nodded and felt Jay’s hands move to the button of your jeans, nimble fingers easily undoing it and unzipping them. His hand slipped past the waistband of your jeans and pushed your panties to the side as Mouse moved to your neck, licking and biting every spot that would have you moaning as Jay sank two fingers into you. 

He groaned as he felt how wet you already were “She’s always so damn ready for us, such a good girl” you felt yourself clench around him and he hissed “Baby I need those fingers” Mouse laughed against your neck “Need some help?” Jay looked at him “She’s always so damn eager, she clenches so fucking hard” Mouse pulled back to brush a kiss against your lips before moving to kiss across your chest. When he got to your bra he made quick work of it, tossing it across the room and rolling a nipple between his teeth as Jay started to move his fingers, finding that spot that made your breath quicken.

“There she is” Jay praised when your head fell back against his shoulder. He gave you a smile and pressed a kiss to your lips as he worked you closer to an orgasm. Mouse moved from one breast to the other, marking them everywhere he could.

“So damn beautiful” Mouse praised, kneeling in front of you and you felt your knees weaken and to the point Jay was supporting your weight. “Fuck Jay” you moaned when he hit that spot deep inside of you with a hard thrust of his fingers. Mouse grinned up at him “Keep that up, I like that sound” 

You felt Mouse tug your jeans off your hips and realized you were now completely bare between your guys but you could’ve cared less because once your pussy was bare, Mouse kneeled between your legs and you felt his tongue flick against your clit, finding a rhythm with Jay’s fingers. A loud moan fell from you and both men groaned “That’s it baby, come for us” Jay coaxed you as you felt your orgasm build. Jay hit that spot at just the right angle as Mouse just barely grazed your clit with his teeth and that was all it took.

Your knees completely went out from under you and you vaguely registered Jay’s laugh “Easy sweetheart, I got you angel”  as the world went soft around the edges.  

Once you came down off the high you were basically in Jay’s lap with Mouse grinning up at you, “Feeling better?” he asked and you shook your head “You two have way too many clothes on” He laughed “We can fix that”

You pulled Mouse up to his feet and crashed your lips against his, tasting yourself as your shaking hands worked the buttons of his shirt. Jay’s slipped around you to help you push the material off his shoulders. He laughed lightly when your mouth moved to his neck, marking him the way he had you “Now who’s being territorial?” 

He gently gripped your hips and turned you to face Jay “Someone else isn’t marked love” you smiled up at Jay and much the same way Jay helped you with Mouse’s shirt, Mouse helped you with Jay’s. You pulled him into a kiss then set about marking him. 

You could feel Mouse’s erection pressing against your ass even through his jeans and let out a low moan. “I need you” you begged and they both laughed “You have us baby. Who do you want first?” Jay asked and you rolled your bottom lip between your teeth “Mouse? Is that ok?” he nodded “Of course love”

Mouse’s grip around your waist tightened before Jay pulled you into his arms, causing you to be forced to wrap your legs around his waist. The feeling of his clothed erection rubbing against your core pulled a moan from your lips as he pressed your weight into the mattress. His lips moved down to your neck, then your chest, wherever he could find.

When Mouse tapped your leg Jay laughed and turned to let you lay back on him, supporting your body. You felt your mouth drop open at the sight of Mouse, he’d slipped his jeans off and he was slowly stroking his hardened cock as he watched you and Jay. You crooked one finger at him so he grabbed a condom out of the nightstand and crawled up your body before tearing open the package and rolling it down onto himself. He leaned down to catch your lips in a gentle kiss “I love you” “I love you too” you told him as he lined himself up with your entrance and bottomed out with one hard thrust that had your back arching up into Jay who shushed you gently “You can take him baby. You always take us so well”

You felt yourself clench around Mouse and he chuckled “Keep talking to her Jay, you know she loves that” Jay pressed a kiss under your right ear as Mouse found an angle where every thrust meant he was hitting that spot that had you seeing stars “Is that right baby? You love hearing how you’re such a good girl for us? You take us so well, always so damn eager for us, nobody else could keep up with the two of us like you do..”

You felt another orgasm building and knew you were so damn close. “Don’t stop Greg, fuck please don’t stop” you begged and Jay kissed you again “He’s not gonna stop baby, just lay back and take it” you felt your nails digging into Mouse’s back and he grunted lightly from the pain but didn’t try to stop you. Jay knew when you were close so he slipped one hand between your body and Mouse’s rubbing tight circles onto your clit and that was all it took for your orgasm to slam into you. The feeling of you coming bringing Mouse with you as he buried himself deep inside of you with a final thrust, spilling into the condom.

“Holy shit..Baby I love you so damn much” he praised kissing your lips then neck then collarbone as you both worked to get your breathing back to normal. You laughed lightly “I love you too” he gently pulled out of you, apologizing when you made a noise of discomfort. 

Jay moved from underneath you, helping you to settle back onto the pillows before moving to crawl onto the bed with you. He caught your lips in a lingering kiss, “I love you princess” he teased and you grinned “I love you” he pushed his jeans down and grabbed a condom, rolling it down his hardened cock. He looked up at your eyes “Are you sure you’re good to take me too?” 

You nodded “Please? I want you Jay” By then Mouse had cleaned himself up and was crawling on the bed to lay next to you “Don’t make her beg Jay” he tsked, turning your head towards him to brush a kiss against your lips. Jay lined himself up with your opening and gently eased into you, letting you feel every inch of him.

Your hands went to his shoulders, pulling him down to you as Mouse laughed lightly “I think she’s good”  Jay quickly found a pace, the two of them knew your body so well it wasn’t fair. “Fuck Jay, feels so damn good” you sobbed as Mouse nipped at your neck “Tell her how good she feels Jay, let her know how good that pussy feels when you’re buried in it” he groaned against your neck. 

Jay leaned his forehead over against your chest “You feel so damn amazing baby, you always do. You take us so good” he grunted when you clenched down around him and nodded to Mouse who snaked a hand between your bodies to work at your clit. The two of them quickly took you to that brink again and pushed you over that edge. When your back arched off the bed,your orgasm ripping a scream from your throat Jay buried himself inside of you, spilling into the condom with a moan of your name.

Your head fell back against the bed as Jay’s landed down on your chest, both of you working to get your breathing back to normal while Mouse played with both of yours and Jay’s hair. “That was fucking amazing” Jay whispered and you laughed lightly “Took the words right out of my mouth”

After a shower all three of you were in bed,you on Jay’s chest and Mouse curled up to your back. “Why did you two get so mad? He didn’t actually touch me” you spoke into the quiet room. “Because he didn’t take no for an answer” Jay replied and Mouse added “The idea of someone hurting you? That’s just no”

You shook your head “I love you two” “We love you princess” Jay spoke softly,pressing a kiss to your temple as Mouse pressed one to your bare shoulder “Always”

[appleblueberry-pie]

WHAT WOULD YOU DO?

You and Suguru are roomates in this.

He hates this side of you. He hates everything about this side of you. If there was some form of higher power, he's begging them to tell him why, why out of everything he had to go through in his painful life, did he have to deal with this? All he's ever wanted was to be yours. He wants to be yours and he wants you to feel the same way for him, and he thought he was so fucking close.

You two sleep in the same house, you both do domestic chores together and he felt like you two were really beginning to bond after an entire year of living under the same roof. All of those years of stalking your everyday life after work, finding out your morning and night routines, memorizing your habits and hobbies, all of this just for you to give your full attention to a male human that knew nothing of your existence?

He can't say it out loud or his heart will stop, but you say that you love him. But he knows that look in your eyes. He's been giving it to you for years. You don't love him. You have a borderline unhealthy obsession with this animal. Every inch of his body is lit on fire whenever you mention him, knowing that he will never be able to have a chance due to your deranged fantasies of another he doesn't even consider to be anywhere near worthy enough for you to even lay your beautiful eyes on.

Why can't you see he's so much better?

He can't even distract himself on his phone right now. As much as he wants to block out your useless blabbing about him, he can't go two minutes without hearing your voice in general. It's an endless painful cycle.

As you're making dinner, cutting the potatoes in bite-sized pieces, Suguru wraps his arms around your midsection and peeks over your shoulder at the cutting board. Maybe he can distract you. "I can take over if you're tired," The vibrations from his chest reach your back and you hum, lost in thought. "No....I need to perfect this meat pie." His frown only deepens at what it implies and your smile only grows.

"Can you taste test this when it's done? I need about fifteen more minutes to-"

"Y/n, he doesn't even know you."

Your smile completely vanishes at his words and he lets go when you turn around, clenching the kitchen knife in your hand tighter. "Suguru, you know what this means to me. I know what he wants. And if I have to-"

"Don't. Just don't finish that sentence. Please." He slowly takes the knife from your hands and sets it on the counter behind you, stepping closer to you, looking deep into your eyes, hoping to find you in there somewhere. Because you've been drifting away from him for far too long.

"Y/n," His cold finger brushes so softly against the fat of your cheek and you're clearly jittery at the sensitive topic he just brough up. "You have to let him go." You already started shaking your head, knowing he was going to spew some nonsense. You turn your head to the pre-heated oven and he brings your face back to look at his own.

"Look at how you're acting. You haven't met this guy not even one time and you're attempting to perfect your cooking for him as if he would even be willing to try it from a stranger who's obsessed with him. He wouldn't like it. You wouldn't like it."

"I know how to act normal." You defend yourself, but it sounds more like you're attempting to convince yourself that you have a possibility with this man. Suguru begins to get annoyed at your defiance and doesn't know whether to just try and shove it into your head or try the softer way. Either way, you have to stop going after him. Or at least see that he's a better option.

"I know how to be normal. I've been practicing what I've been saying to him for a while now, and I'm pretty sure I got it down now. A-and I've been sending him gifts and letters and stuff and he hasn't reported me or anything. He never posted anything on any of his socials about the stuff I sent, so I think he thinks it's fine. His friends haven't said anything on their accounts either, so I think it's okay for me to keep trying. I'm close enough to his type of girl and I know the stuff he likes to do for fun, and what-"

The amount of energy and restraint he had to not just kill everyone within a 3 mile radius is something he didn't know he was capable of having in the first place. You reminded him too much of himself. Too much of how he already is with you. And if you were anywhere near like how he is with you and it's all directed towards that thing, he'd be sure to top your crazy pretty soon. And if he was anywhere near your type of crazy, he'd be in the right mind to erase that fool off of the face of the earth to get you to finally pay attention to him.

He deserves everything that animal has. And it's you. He has you wrapped around his finger and he doesn't know and it makes Suguru's blood boil with every second he acknowledges it. He will be dealt with accordingly.

[ryomens-vixen]

SUKUNA FLUFF! + HEADCANONS

Summary: It's more like we're "comforting" him.

Mentions: Sukuna being vulgar as usual, unwanted child, pregnancy, SA, 🤏 NSFW, Angst? idk what else. Good luck.

Word count: Ion fuckin know sis, reblog & ❤ please.

Lord Ryomen doesn't usually talk about his personal life as it was never important to him at all. Who were you, a mere concubine, a toy to him, to question him about anything regarding his life before this temple, before these servants, before he was given the name "King Of Curses".

One day you were leaving his room as you did almost every night after an the usual escapade of skin slapping, animalistic groans, moaning that could've been mistaken for ritualistic chanting. You were his favorite after all, but you couldn't help over hearing some of the head servants discussing the childhood of the four armed man you had just laid with.

"Do you think Master Ryomen... May have fallen for that one concubine he sends for almost more than he does the others?"

"You bet mind your tone, unless you want to be dismantled like the rest, we done want urame telling the Lord now do we..."

"I.. I deeply apologize, but doesn't it-"

"Absolutely, not! Master Ryomen is incapable of loving someone. If you can even consider favoritism as some form of love, then fine. But in love? Preposterous- Master Ryomen wasn't ever loved as a baby not by his mother or father. So what on earth makes you think he could love anyone?"

"Ah.. I suppose you have a point..."

"Of course I do, besides, THAT concubine is an odd one it wouldn't be long till he's tired of her and casts her aside like his other old toys. If you think about Master Ryomen is like a man child of some sorts, we take care of him, bring him new toys all for him to break them when he gets bored, then we're stuck cleaning up the mess..."

Just listening to the way his own servants speak amongst themselves about the man they serve made your heart absolutely ache. If he truly was never graced with the loving touch of a mother and father, then that must explain a lot of his behaviors. Were you truly his favorite? If that were true then it is an honor to be favorited by such a powerful entity, but it didn't make your heart pity and ache for him any less.

Every since you were brought to his temple as an offering from the village you had grown up in- All the stories that had been told about the king of curses ravaging, Pillaging, completely massacring villages, towns, anyone, and anybody in his path. Sacrifices of children, women and any alike were made to please him and keep him at bay.. Everyone feared him, but you.

The village you grew up in...a village full of men, where had all the women gone you always wondered, but that could only be answered by one thing.. They were sacrificed as well. Ryomen was your salvation in the hell hole that was this village..all they did was use you for the most dirtiest, filthiest, most deranged desires it was far worse than anything Ryomen could ever put you through.

Being a Toy for him for the best thing life could have ever offered to you, many think that this would be something unfortunate, but you.. You loved every bit of it just was much as you had come to love The King of curses himself. Always gentle with him even though he is always very rough with his playthings, showering him with the utmost respect, affection, and adoration. This all left Sukuna quite...perplexed. Why we're you not begging for your life? Why did you not put of a fight with him while being balls deep in your tight core? Why were you always so happy to see him? So kind? So caring? To be honest it made him needy in a way- just like tonight when he kick you out of his chambers.. He didn't actually want you to leave, but was too stubborn to say so. He wanted you by his side at all times and even caught himself fantasizing about massacring the other concubines so that he may have only you to himself.

Sukuna found himself feeling rather the disgusted when the other would dote onto him or throw themselves at him in a sorry attempt of gaining his "affection."

While he laid in bed poundering deep into thought about the current events, about the tightness in his chest he got every time you came into thought. It was all interrupted by his chamber doors bursting opening as he sat up in bed completely ok guard his intense gaze met your watery eyes.

"Women, I thought I told you to-"

"Lord Ryomen! Please hear me even if it's only for a second, I-"

"Oh? You choose now to beg for your precious life? Well, go on amuse me why don't you."

"Lord Ryomen... I- I love you! And not as a means of trying to gain your affection. I know you may not truly grasp the concept of...my feelings for you, but they are true. At least to me- "

The sound of your confession was nearly drowned out by the rapid beating of his heart, his chest only became tighter after hear those three words- it disgusted him. To know he was loved? No no that's not it- to know that deep down even though it confused him, caused him great uneasiness, worry even- it angered him to no end on the inside.. Why? Why did he feel this? He was no longer human and yet- Ryomen's heart it still beat? It still felt? It was the cause of these unwanted feelings, this need to be more gentle, this want to utter those three words that it impossible for him to not gag at the thought of them falling from his lips. Oh how he just wanted to rip his own heart out and dispose of it, but what would be the point? Would he still long for her gentle touch? To hear her call out his name as the two made "Love" to one another? To see that heart warming smile she wore every time he called for her?

"I know I'm just a peasant.. A toy for your entertainment, but Lord Ryomen I swear to you my feelings for you are true. I do not fear your touch, your power, or your presence in the slightest for I have been through worse... More than anyone can imagine. So until the day you are bored of me- I want you to know that you are more than just The King Of Curses, to me..you are my salvation, my home. You deserve to be respected because of how powerful you are- not out fear.. My Lord this is your playground and we are merely the pests that reside in it."

After some time, the only thing that could be heard was the silence between the two. Having stared at him to long- your hands clasped together, head bowing staring directly at your feet. Ryomen did not utter a single word or demand your way.. Just a long drawn out stare- hell if you were still looking you would be able to see the unreadable expression smeared across his face, but all you could do was stand there in a bow only to then heard the shuffling of his bed sheets to his feet gracing the floor as he stood up out of bed.

For a moment the thought of your life being over was the last thing to cross your mind out of any other thoughts until he finally spoke sounding as amused as ever.

"Hmm, did you rehearsal that? Y'know I'm not to fond of plays, but my, my, did a shitty little pest such as yourself put on quite the show for me? It what I would say if I were any amused-"

Did you mess up? He spoke in a more annoyed tone this time- maybe.. Maybe he's pulling your leg. Or maybe...

"Say it again-"

What? Was your first thought.

"That.. I am just a peasant-"

"No, no you incompetent pile of flesh- your affection. Say. It. Again."

"I- I love you, Lord Ryomen even if you are incapable of harboring those feelings yours i-"

That was it, all the fuel he needed to aggressively take you into his four arms, his lips crashing directly into yours, it was sloppy, but full of passionate. He squeezed your body so tightly it began to hurt even, but anything, anything to stop his heart from beating the way it did for you, and yet it only beats faster. Ryomen's entire life as he knew it changed so drastically that night, going from an unwanted child...to someone who was loved to deeply by one person. It not that he cared for it being feared by all was the best feeling imaginable for him it was better than being loved, but by you? It meant so much more he couldn't even begin to grasp it, but he knew that eventually that would be no way of hiding the way he felt much longer. He NEEDED you, he CRAVED you, if he could you could be the air that he breathes, but his pride and ego was far to big for that.

"Say it again-"

He held you down by your wrists and waist, his grip was so tight that you could almost feel yourself bruising like a fruit. Yet when you look up at him the expression he held was quite soft versus the threatening tone of his demand.

"I.. Love you, Lord Ryomen."

"Again!"

"I love you!"

"...Again"

"I love you... Ryomen Sukuna."

You feel the grip he had on your wrists letting up enough for there to be some wiggle room. His face became quite deadpanned the more he demanded you to say it "Again." Placing both your hands gently upon his cheeks giving them a repeated caress with your thumbs.

"My Lord, I love you."

"Again.. Y/N"

"I Love you."

"...."

"I love you."

"...."

"Ryomen..I love you."

He breath hitched, something about his eyes bothered him, they burned as he stared at his beloved concubine.

"What... What the hell are you some kind of witch? A damned sorcerer? W-what the hell are you doing to me-"

"I've done nothing, but love you my Lord, I could never dream of harming someone as- My- My Lord are you...?"

"Shut up, wench! You know you are at my mercy? I could tear you limb, from limb."

"Then I'll accept my fate, I love you..."

Oh your fate was sealed alright, in an unexpected turn of events.

[Now for some Dad!Kuna shall we?]

Dad!Kuna who was quite opposed to having a child of his own, but later convinced himself that it'd be best to have an heir to terrorize the world whenever he left this world.

Dad!Kuna who secretly hoped for you to birth him a son as he wasn't to find of the thought of having a daughter...or so he thought.

Dad!Kuna who desperately wanted to hold you in his strong arms thinking it would ease the pain from the labor you were going into. The sound of your pained screams did not sit well with him at all, this new feeling of... Anxiety washed over him as he waited upon his throne of bones.

Dad!Kuna who perked up at the shriek like cries of his new born baby, as much as he wished to dash into the room to see his new born child, he was overcome by his pride and worn an uninterested face to keep his reputation intact.

Dad!Kuna who looked even more disinterested when told that he has a beautiful healthy daughter, a damn daughter, how is a women suppose to rule? Terrorize? Be feared? He thought. Great- just great- this is now at all what he wanted.

Dad!Kuna who never once held his daughter, let alone taken care of her. But glanced at her a few times. One time he had followed you in the child's bedroom as she began to cry at dead of night- when he took a long look at his daughter, she looked like a combination of the both of you..beautiful. He huffed, and went back to his chambers only to be greeted by you and his weeping daughter who you just couldn't seem to get back to sleep.

"Ryomen do you mind holding our little Angel while I go fetch her blankie?"

"Ugh..." He grumbled allowing you to place "angel" on his chest as you rushed to find her blankie. Sukuna had a pout across his face as he watch Angel go from weeping and squirming around on his chest like some sort of worm to a little soft whimper as she began to calm down. Maybe it was the sound of his beating heart that soothed his fussy daughter or maybe it was the comfort of his intense presence. As long as she was done crying then he'd allow it, placing a hand on her small back almost as if he were guarding her from God knows what. Sukuna stared at his daughter in contentment.

Secretly, you stood off to the side of your doorway as you had already started to pick up on Sukuna being the source of your daughter's comfort. Even though he seemed to have no interest in her, your Angel seemed to be quite connected to her father, it was quite cute to witness.

Dad!Kuna who would dread the days where you would leave him with the baby to take care of outside business away from the temple, and as much as he would like to turn his daughter's care over to his servants, he just couldn't stand the thought of you leaving alone.

Dad!Kuna who would rest atop of his throne only to be startled by the shrieking of his "Angel", but this cry wasn't like the others, it sounded like nails against a chalkboard it made him want to tear out of own his as he angrily made his way to the bedroom she was left in. She's just a baby, she doesn't know any better, she'll grow onto you. These words Sukuna tried to keep in mind as you have said them time and time again as he scooped her up into his four arms trying to gently bounce her how he saw you do once or twice.

"Shut up-"

"I said Stop your excessive whaling!"

There was a brief moment of silence after he yelled at her, those wet, big, beady eyes staring back at him, then the crying started up again, but much much louder sending Sukuna in a slight panic as he just couldn't think of what to do except lay down with her on his chest.

"Shhh.. Shhh.. I- ugh I'm here, stop fucking crying already."

"Daddy's here.."

Dad!Kuna who fell asleep guarding his little angel on his, waking up a few times whenever she would wriggle, or kick her little feet, or grab at him chest.

Dad!Kuna who would barely allow you or anyone to hold her unless she needed to be changed or fed, he just felt this animalistic urge to protect his little baby girl from anything and everything.

Dad!Kuna would praise her for every little achievement, a big burp, pissing on a servant, learning how to crawl. Sometimes he would place her on the floor and watch as she would crawl after him frantically, sukuna found this so amusing in the cutest way possible even her little frustrated baby noises were cute to him.

Dad!Kuna who would sometimes let her play with his stomach mouth.

Dad!Kuna would laugh maniacally at her attempts of mimicking his intimidating growls and bellowing whenever he was annoyed or displeased.

Dad!Kuna who hated hearing his little girl cry for him each time he left the temple to do what? Cause mayhem? Her little "Dada!" Would absolutely tug at his heart. Her screams for him as he pushed on made him want to turn back and just hold her in his arms.

Dad!Kuna who would encourage her to walk on her own and to not cry when she fails because she is strong like her father.

Dad!Kuna who would one day insist- no no demand that you give him another for no other reason than "continuing his bloodline" when really he wanted another child because he was absolutely in love with the first one that he need to have a second as he was getting a handle on this whole Fatherhood thing.

Dad!Kuna would tell his daughter stories of his reign of terror as if she could even remotely understand a word that came out if his mouth.

[houserautha]

lol, just had a thought. Imagine this, okay?

Feyd and his wife haven't been together very long, right? Around a month or two. They aren't too familiar with one another and don't interact with each other very much and when they do, it's either to fuck or put on airs and show everyone that, yes, they are definitely a happy couple and there is nothing wrong with their marriage, you can leave now.

Wifey has met the Harpies, maybe before or after the wedding, doesn't really matter, and they actually get along decently well. One day, wifey and the harps are just chilling and she starts talking about Feyd. She's just all, "He's so fine, I just wanna shake him. Squeeze him until he explodes. Shove him in a blender and drink him. He's so gorgeous." The Harpies are nodding along like, "Yes, yes, we understand the urge well."

Meanwhile, Feyd had accidentally ended up eavesdropping on the conversation and is just... so confused but so hard? His wife has violent and deranged thoughts about him because of how attractive she finds him? I'm certain that man is fully bricked up. Hard as a rock.

Wait I love this so much. This is just a quick snippet of this imagine😂 (also I totally just made up the Harpy names. As a fandom have we decided what they are??)

Not unsurprisingly, it’s a hot, dry day on Giedi Prime and since you’re not required to be anywhere until tonight, you’re lounging in the antechamber of your quarters with the artificial breeze. Draped across a chaise that you’ve grown particularly fond of, you lift your head up to address your company.

“Can I speak freely?”

Valeriya waves a hand. “Of course.”

Out of the three Harpies, Val is the one you’ve grown the closest with but the others are just as amicable. You thought that three women who frequently bedded your husband would see you as competition. Instead, they were perhaps the only people in the Known Universe who understood the attraction of your new husband.

“Do you ever want to just…rip his head off?” Your head falls back again, eyes closing. “Or, like, stab him? Over and over and over? He’s so infuriatingly gorgeous that I just can’t take it. You know?”

“Oh, I know,” Johana says.

The other Harpy, Fidi, adds, “I’ve dreamed about it plenty of times.”

Your feelings towards your husband overwhelmed you in ways that you weren’t capable of handling. Or even inclined to examine too closely. When you saw him, the reaction was so immense that there were times you felt you couldn’t breathe, the air snatched right from your lungs.

“He would probably like it, too,” you muse.

Val laughs, clear like a bell. “Guaranteed.”

Feyd did like it. A significant amount.

He had wandered into your shared quarters with the intent of fucking you, but found the combined voices of you and the Harpies momentarily more intriguing. And shit, was he glad he did.

Clearly you liked him, you were wet before he even touched you. But he had no idea the depths of your attraction, the violent urge that he invokes in you. His cock stirs at your words and Feyd palms himself over his pants, mind racing with images of what he’d do to you the next time that you’re alone.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Carpe Noctem 1

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (short!reader)

Note: thank you for waiting! Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

The condensation of the glass drips from your fingers.. You hate the feeling, slick and slightly irritating. You switch hands as you sway to the music, penned in by strangers as you try to see past them. You’re a bit awkward, off on your own, but no one seems to notice as you stand nearly a head below the rest of clubbers.

You stand on your toes but it doesn’t help. The music and the haze of voices doesn’t help your search. You yipe as you feel a tug on your arm. You turn to Sabrina and Selena, the tall blondes with cocktails as identical as they are. The twins are stunning individually, but together, they’re gobsmackingly gorgeous. And, you must admit, chaotic.

“Where did you two get off to?” You yell over the music.

“Mom!” Selena teases as she rolls her eyes.

“Someone has to keep an eye on you two.”

“We were just getting drinks, duh!” Sabrina shows her bright pink cocktail and takes a slurp through the skinny straw.

“Right,” you look at your ginger ale, the ice has already melted. Responsible and bland, just like you. Designated driver and designated mom friend. “I’m sure that’s all you were doing.”

“Well,” Selena smirks, “we did meet a guy.”

“Really?” You tilt your head sardonically, “you said this was a girls’ night. No dudes.”

“Relax, we know Johnny would have a fit, alright? It’s not like that, we’d just go up for the drinks.”

“You have drinks,” you counter, “and go up where?”

“Private room,” Sabrina says, “come on, don’t be a sourpuss! When’s the last time you went to a private room?”

You almost snarl. They know you aren’t the club sort and it’s obvious you don’t have the looks to be invited up to some playboys crow’s nest. Besides, it gives you the ick. Those men standing up there leering from the windows like some deranged lookouts.

“Are you asking me or telling me?” You rebuff.

“Come on, pleeeeaaaaassseeee,” Sabrina pouts, “we promise, we’re not going to hook up. We’re just going to flirt our way into bottle service.”

“Look, you come up and we’ll pay for the uber. Since we won’t be paying for booze, we’ll be able to afford it,” Selena winks.

“I don’t really…” you sigh. It’s two against one, as always. Even if you wanted to drink, you know you can’t. You have to keep an eye on these two. “Fine, but I mean it. No hook ups. And I don’t want to be up there all night.”

“Yessss!” Selena throws her fist up.

“Ugh, you guys,” you roll your eyes, “you make me feel like a bitch.”

“No, you’re just the responsible one,” Sabrina chuckles and turns on her heel, “come on! Before someone else takes our spot.”

“Are you sure… it’s okay that I’m with you?” You ask as you trail after them, speaking to the end of their long ponytails.

“Of course, we said we had a third. Just… play along.”

“Play along? What does that mean?”

“You don’t have to make out with anyone but like, don’t be frigid.”

“You are making me regret my decision already,” you retort.

“Come on. You can handle it. You’ve never had any issue giving a guy a swat. He gets too handsy and–” she flicks her hand above her shoulder so you can see, “give him one.”

You hold back your complaints. You know once the twins have their minds set, there’s not changing them. All you can do is act as chaperone and make sure they don’t get too messy.

You follow them to a set of spiral stairs and climb up behind them, balancing your ginger ale perilously as you refuse to look down and see the height building below you. Sabrina leads the way, striding up to a door with a golden snake on it. She knocks and peeks over her shoulder, giving a wink. 

It opens and a man appears, clean shaven with neatly parted hair, a glint in his blue eyes as he smirks at Sabrina.

“Selena?” He asks.

“I’m Sab,” she chides.

“Ah, I’ll figure it out,” he kids, “come in.”

He leaves the door open as Sabrina enters, then Selena, and you reluctantly bring up the rear. The music is muffled by the walls as you do and your ears feel ready to pop. You take a drink of your soda to hide your discomfort. 

“Twins,” another man muses. He sits on the sofa, an arm across the back. A satin shirt is unbuttoned way too low on his chest, the mustache adding to the allusion to Tom Selleck several decades ago. 

You’re used to being overshadowed by the twins. You really don’t mind given the circumstance, you have a boyfriend. You nurse the ginger ale as a third man approaches; tall, blonde, and sleek in a powder blue jacket. Probably the best looking of the trio.

“Jonathan,” he introduces himself to the twins.

“Sabrina and Selena,” the man who answered the door stretches his arms around the twins’ waists.

“And our friend,” Selena makes sure to introduce you, waving you forward.

“Ah, pardon.”

“This is Ransom,” Sabrina leans into the man between them.

The man from the couch says nothing, almost scowling as he watches Selena, her eyes on Jonathan as she accepts a polite kiss on the cheek. Yep, doesn’t feel great to be third wheel, though it saves you a lot of trouble.

The girls fall into a low conversation with Ransom and Jonathan. You hover and hesitate before sitting on the other end of the couch, staring at the bubbles rising to the top of your soda. Awkward.

“Couldn’t have found triplets,” the man grumbles as he twists a golden ring on his finger.

“Sorry to disappoint,” you snip.

He looks at you, almost surprised to find you there. His cheek twitches and he sighs, pushing himself up with the armrest. “I need a fucking drink.”

So much for pretenses. You watch him go to the small bar in the corner and you turn your attention to the windows flashing with a spectrum of lights. It’s not entirely unexpected for the night to take this turn, you were just hoping it wouldn’t.

[marsplastic13]

'Complicated' (part 13) - Kaz Brekker x Reader

Idea - Kaz Brekker hires a prostitute to overcome his touch aversion, and be a better man for Inej, but things take an unxepected turn.

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Prostitute!Reader, (had to use y/n because I'm bad at names)

Genre: modern AU, slow burn

word count: 8k

notes: can't wait for your opinions on this

@millercontracting @coldmermaidhologram @syd649

@luffysprincess @cryptidghostgirl @beekeepingageissome

@hufflepuff-16 @lukepattersin

They heard the noise of a commotion, then Y/n’s piercing scream, “It’s at the old lighthouse, Kaz, please help me!”

The phone call ended abruptly, leaving a deafening silence in the car. 

Kaz stopped in the middle of the road, heart pounding, and made a dangerously illegal U-turn to head toward the lighthouse. 

"Who the fuck was that?" Jesper asked, his voice laced with concern.

"Her ex-boyfriend," Kaz replied tersely.

They arrived at the lighthouse in record time. Both retrieved two guns from a hidden compartment in the back of the car. “Take her out as soon as you can. I’ll handle him,” Kaz instructed, his voice a mix of resolve and anger.

The two made their way up the stairs quickly and quietly, the sound of Y/n’s desperate pleas growing louder. She was trying to buy time, Kaz realized. From the slightly opened door, he tried to assess the situation. Y/n was on the floor, holding her side, but she seemed conscious. Before he could take further action, a gunshot rang out, followed by Y/n's scream of pain.

“Let her go,” Kaz commanded coldly as he barged in. His eyes quickly scanned the place, locking onto Aleksander, who turned to face him with a wild expression. Y/n was clutching her arm, but otherwise appeared fine.

“And who are you? Another one of those idiots she’s got wrapped around her fingers?” Aleksander sneered, his gun still pointed at Y/n.

“Yeah, exactly. Lay the gun on the floor and step away from her,” Kaz demanded, his voice steely.

“I was like you once—madly in love, ready to do anything for her—and she fucking ruined me,” Aleksander spat, his eyes filled with a deranged fury, underlining each word with a wild movement of the gun.

Kaz took a cautious step forward, but Aleksander immediately redirected the gun back to Y/n. “Another step and I kill the bitch.”

“Alex, please,” Y/n’s voice was broken, filled with terror.

“Oh, you always liked to beg, didn’t you?” Aleksander mocked, his attention momentarily shifting back to Y/n. “Begging me to stop, begging me to love you. Pathetic.”

Y/n’s eyes were wide with fear and pain, and Kaz felt a surge of protective anger. “Let her go,” he commanded, trying to keep his voice steady, his eyes locked on Aleksander’s every move.

Aleksander sneered, his gaze flicking back to Kaz. “You think you’re her knight in shining armor? You’re just another fool she’s using. Just wait. She’ll get bored of you too. She’ll chew you up and spit you out, just like she did to me.”

Y/n’s eyes welled up with tears. “Kaz, he’s lying.”

Aleksander laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. “Oh, is that what she told you? That I’m the liar? That I’m the monster? You think you’re different? Special? You’re not. You’re just the next idiot in line.”

Kaz felt a surge of anger but kept his voice calm. “You’re the one pointing a gun to her. That’s all I need to know.”

Aleksander’s grip on the gun tightened. “You don’t get it, do you? She’s playing you. She played me, made me think I was her world, and then ripped it all away. She’ll do the same to you.”

Y/n’s voice was a desperate whisper. “Please,”

Aleksander’s smile was cruel. “Remember when you used to beg me to stop, Y/n? Those nights when you thought a few tears and a pleading look would make me change? You always were such a naive little thing.”

Kaz’s grip on his concealed weapon tightened. “Enough.”

Aleksander ignored him, his eyes boring into Y/n’s. “Do you remember how you used to cling to me, thinking I was your everything? And look at you now, clinging to him. You never change.”

Y/n flinched at his words, her face contorted in pain. “Kaz, don’t let him—”

Aleksander cut her off, his tone dripping with venom. “Don’t let me what? Tell the truth? You’re scared now, aren’t you? Just like you were then. Scared little Y/n, always needing someone to save her.”

Jesper seized the opportunity with pinpoint accuracy, firing a shot that whizzed past Aleksander’s temple, close enough to scare but not harm him. As Aleksander ducked and cursed, Jesper signaled for Y/n to move. She scrambled to her feet and rushed to Jesper, who guided her down to the car.

Left alone with Aleksander, Kaz’s lips curled into a dangerous smile. 

Kaz made his way back to the car, sliding into the seat next to Y/n, who was still trembling. Jesper was in the driver’s seat, the car already running.

“Kaz, what was that noise?” she asked, wide-eyed and hugging herself.

“Don’t worry, love. It’s over,” he said, gently circling her with his arms. He then turned to Jesper. “Call Rotty. We need plane tickets as soon as possible, dated a few hours ago.” He turned back to Y/n. “Do you have your ID, darling?”

She nodded, still confused. “It’s in my bag. Kaz, what is going on?”

Jesper was already on the phone, arranging things. “... Yes, plane tickets. One for Kaz, and I’m sending you the ID for the other now… a few hours ago, yes. And fake ones for as soon as you can. Kaz, place: hot or cold?”

“Cold. She’s injured. And there’s her car to move.”

“On it.”

“Kaz, talk to me,” she pleaded, her voice shaking. “What is going on? What have you done?”

Kaz brushed a stray hair away from her face. “Your ex-boyfriend just fell from the lighthouse. You don’t have an alibi, so I’m making us one. You have to trust me on this.”

Y/n looked too shocked to process what he was saying. Jesper drove quickly but carefully to Kaz’s house. Once inside, Jesper went straight for the computer to finalize the last things.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, alright?” Kaz supported Y/n into the bathroom, his grip firm yet gentle. Her gym clothes were stained and torn from the struggle, and he carefully helped her out of them, his eyes scanning her for any more injuries. The bullet had just grazed her arm, leaving a nasty cut but nothing too serious. He grabbed a first aid kit and quickly cleaned the wound, applying a bandage with the precision of someone who had done this many times before.

“You’re lucky,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “It could have been much worse.”

Y/n nodded, her eyes glassy with shock and pain. Kaz reached for a washcloth, dampening it with warm water. He gently wiped away the smudged makeup and dirt from her face, his touch tender. She flinched slightly at first but then relaxed into his careful touch.

“Just take a shower. I’ll be right here,” Kaz said, his voice calming. He turned on the water, adjusting it to a comfortable temperature before helping her into the shower. He waited just outside, listening to the sound of the water and her quiet sobs mingling together.

When she emerged, wrapped in a towel and still trembling, Kaz was waiting with one of his shirts. He looked at her with a mixture of concern and determination. “I’ll get you to bed, alright?” he said, gently sliding the shirt over her head. 

As they left the bathroom, the front door opened, and Inej stepped in. “Guys, what happened to you? We were all waiting at the club-” Her voice trailed off as she took in the scene. Jesper was furiously typing and talking on two phones while Kaz was pale and supporting an injured Y/n who was wearing his clothes.

“Nej, what are you doing here?” he whispered, losing a few more shades of color.

“I wanted to surprise you for your birthday… What is going on? Why is she here and what happened to her?” Her voice was a mix of anger and concern.

Y/n looked at Kaz with wide eyes. “Nej, give me a second,” he said firmly, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on him.

Kaz led her to the bedroom, where he carefully pulled back the covers and helped her into bed. He sat beside her, brushing a stray hair from her face. “Try to get some rest,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving hers.

“I’m scared, Kaz,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

“I know,” he replied, his voice steady. “But you’re safe now. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and fear. “What’s going to happen now?”

“We’ll leave for a few days,” Kaz said, his tone firm and reassuring. “We need to be out of sight until things calm down. I’ve got everything under control. Just try to sleep. I’ll handle everything. Our flight is probably around 5 a.m. We have a lot of time.”

“Kaz, I don’t understand,” she said, her voice breaking.

Kaz cupped her face, pressing his lips to her forehead. “I’ll explain everything, love. You have to trust me.”

Y/n nodded weakly, her body finally starting to relax. Kaz watched her for a moment, making sure she was comfortable before turning to leave the room.

Back in the living room, Inej stood with her arms crossed, eyes blazing with anger and hurt. “Kaz, what the hell is going on?”

Kaz took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing thoughts. “It’s a long story, Nej. You should sit down.”

She looked at him, confusion and frustration evident in her eyes, but she slowly took a seat on the couch. Kaz began to explain everything that had transpired, from his relationship with Y/n to the events of the evening. He spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully, knowing that each revelation would cut deeper.

As the story unfolded, Inej's eyes went wider and wider. She listened in stunned silence, absorbing every detail.

“You cheated on me, for months,” she finally said, her voice tinged with disbelief and pain. Kaz looked down, unable to meet her gaze. “That’s why I met her at the coffee shop nearby that day. She was coming here. I can’t believe you, Kaz. You, of all people.”

Kaz’s heart ached at her words. “Inej, I never wanted to hurt you.”

She shook her head, her expression a portrait of betrayal and sorrow. “You wanted to break up with me that day. You two were already together.”

“We are not together, Inej,” Kaz insisted, his voice tinged with desperation.

“Oh, sorry then,” Inej said bitterly, her sarcasm cutting deep. “I can’t believe that when I told you about my issues with sex, you ran straight to her.” She stood up, her body trembling with rage.

“Don’t raise your voice, Y/n is probably—”

“Oh, am I being fucking loud?” Inej snapped, her voice dripping with sarcasm and hurt. “And I shouldn’t wake the girl you’re having an affair with? While she sleeps in the bed I helped you choose?”

Kaz winced at her words, each one hitting him like a physical blow. “Inej, it’s not like that.”

“Not like that?” she repeated, her eyes flashing with fury. “Then what is it like, Kaz? Explain it to me, because from where I’m standing, it looks exactly like that. You lied to me. You cheated on me. You betrayed me.”

Kaz struggled to find the right words, feeling his own guilt and regret choking him. “It’s complicated. I never wanted this to happen.”

“Are you in love with her?” Inej’s eyes were filled with tears, her voice breaking as she asked the question.

Kaz thought about it, the truth weighing heavily on his heart. But Inej was still Inej, and he couldn’t keep lying to her. “Yes,” he admitted quietly.

“And you call this complicated?” Inej’s voice was incredulous. “Complicated is an understatement. You didn’t just cheat on me, you fell in love with her. All the while pretending with me, lying to my face every single day.”

“Inej, please—” Kaz began, but she cut him off again, her voice rising.

“Please what, Kaz? Please understand? Please forgive you? How could you do this to me? To us?” Her tears were falling freely now, her hands shaking with the intensity of her emotions.

Kaz leaned back, sighing heavily, feeling the weight of his actions crushing him. “I don’t want to minimize your anger, Nej, but her ex-boyfriend tried to kill her tonight. Stop screaming, please.”

“And I’m very sorry for that,” Inej said, her voice softer but still filled with anger. “But you, you are a cheating lying dirty bastard.”

“Inej, I’m sorry,” Kaz said, his own voice cracking with emotion. “I never wanted to hurt you. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, Kaz,” she said, wiping her tears angrily. “You’ve destroyed everything. Everything we had, everything we built. Was she worth it? Was she worth throwing everything away?” 

Kaz closed his eyes, pain and regret seeping into every fiber of his being. “It’s not about worth. I didn’t plan this. I didn’t choose for it to happen.”

“I thought we would’ve gotten married, Kaz,” Inej said, her voice trembling. “I thought we had a future together. I thought you were the one.”

Kaz felt a lump form in his throat. He opened his eyes and looked at Inej, seeing the raw hurt and betrayal etched into her features. “Inej, I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted to destroy what we had.”

“But you did,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “You destroyed it all. You broke my heart, Kaz. How could you do this to me?”

Kaz took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I never wanted to betray you. But things got complicated. I got caught up in something I didn’t fully understand.”

Inej shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “We could’ve had everything, Kaz. We could’ve had a life together. A future. But you threw it all away. For what?”

Kaz felt the weight of his actions crashing down on him. “I know I ruined everything. I know I hurt you in ways I can never make up for. But Inej, I still care about you. I still want to see you happy.”

“I wanted to marry you,” Inej said, her voice breaking. “I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. But now…I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

Kaz reached out, his hand trembling. “Inej, I’m still me. I made a terrible mistake, and I will regret hurting you for the rest of my life. But Y/n…she’s different. She’s good for me in ways I didn’t expect.”

Inej took a step back, her eyes filled with anguish. “So you don’t regret being with her? After everything?”

Kaz swallowed hard. “I regret hurting you. I regret the way things happened. But Y/n has brought something into my life that I didn’t know I needed. She’s helped me in ways I can’t explain. I didn’t plan for this, but I can’t deny that she’s been good for me.”

Inej looked at him, tears brimming in her eyes. “You’ve changed, Kaz. And not in the way I hoped. I don’t know if I can ever trust you again.”

Kaz met her gaze, seeing the hurt and betrayal reflected there. “Inej, I—”

“No, Kaz,” she interrupted, her voice cold. “I don’t want to hear it. I’m done.”

Inej turned and walked out, leaving Kaz standing in the living room, his heart shattered. The door closed behind her with a finality that echoed through the room, leaving Kaz to face the consequences of his actions. He sat down heavily on the couch, his mind a whirlwind of regret and sorrow. He had made his choices, and now he had to live with them.

“I’m sorry, man,” said Jesper weakly after witnessing the entire scene.

“Thanks, but I totally deserved it,” Kaz replied, his voice heavy with regret. “I should have done this weeks ago.”

“Yeah, you should have,” Jesper agreed. “Tickets are ready. I’ll come back around 4:30 with a car and her fake documents.”

“Thanks, Jes.”

Kaz went to his room, where Y/n was obviously still awake. “I’m sorry about Inej,” she whispered, her eyes reflecting both guilt and sadness.

“Thanks, love,” Kaz replied softly.

With a sigh, he opened the wardrobe and started packing a few things. Y/n watched him quietly, her mind racing with the events of the night. “I don’t have anything,” she observed, her voice small.

“We’ll buy something there. No one can see us now,” he said, his tone firm but reassuring.

“Alright,” she agreed, though the uncertainty lingered in her eyes.

Kaz turned to her, his expression softening. “Can I check your ribs?”

Y/n nodded, shifting against the headboard to make it easier for him. “It’s going to hurt,” he murmured before moving her shirt and gently touching her side. She hissed in pain, her face contorting with discomfort as he tried to assess the extent of the damage.

“Only one is broken, you should be fine in a few weeks,” Kaz said, his fingers lightly tracing the bruises forming on her skin.

Y/n nodded, adjusting herself against the pillows. “I still can’t believe this happened,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Kaz sat down beside her, taking her hand in his. “I know it’s a lot, but I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

She looked at him, her eyes searching his. “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” he replied, squeezing her hand gently. 

For a moment, they sat in silence, the weight of everything that had transpired pressing down on them. Kaz’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts—regret over Inej, worry for Y/n, and the urgent need to keep her safe.

They didn’t manage to get any sleep, and when Jesper arrived with the car, they were already waiting outside. Y/n wore Kaz's only hoodie, the hood pulled low to cover most of her face, while Kaz, leaving his cane behind, tried to mask his limp as best as he could. The drive to the airport was silent, the tension in the car palpable. They arrived just in time for the last call for their flight, minimizing the time spent in the waiting halls.

On the plane, Y/n nestled against Kaz, hiding her bruised face, and slept through the entire flight. When they landed, a car was waiting to take them to a nice apartment in the city center, a temporary refuge from the chaos they had left behind.

"Why don’t you sleep some more? I have a lot of things to do," Kaz said, already setting up his computer on the dining table. Y/n nodded, dragging herself to the bedroom.

Hours later, Y/n reappeared in the doorway. "You look better," Kaz commented, glancing up from his screen with a small smile.

"Who are you, Kaz?" she asked, hugging herself.

"I’m fixing this, Y/n. I’ll explain everything," he replied, his voice steady but soft.

"You killed him," she stated, her voice trembling.

"I did what I had to," he said, seeing the panic rising in her eyes. He got up and walked over to her, cupping her face in his hands, tilting her chin so she had to look at him. "I would never hurt you, Y/n. You have to believe me."

Y/n pressed her lips into a tight line, clearly conflicted. "Now go out," he instructed, sliding his card into her pocket. "First thing, buy some makeup and cover up your bruises. Then go around, buy whatever you want. I need a few hours alone. I don’t want you to hear some things, and I’m sure you want some time to yourself too."

Y/n nodded with a long sigh. "Are you scared I’ll go to the police and talk?" she asked, her eyes let all of her conflicted emotions transpire.

"No," he said without hesitation. "I know you won’t, but whatever happens, it’s better if you know as little as possible."

Y/n took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "Okay," she said finally. She turned to leave but paused at the door. "Kaz?"

"Yes, love?"

"Be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I will," he promised.

As she left, Kaz returned to his computer, his mind already racing with plans and contingencies. He had a lot of work to do to secure their safety, but he was determined to protect her at all costs. 

He worked tirelessly, making calls and sending messages, making people erase them and their cars from all the cameras that they might have encountered during the hours they were supposed to be already on the plane. He was methodical, his mind sharp and focused. But even as he worked, a part of him worried about Y/n, hoping she was safe and would return soon.

Hours passed, and Y/n finally returned, looking exhausted but more composed. "Feel better?" Kaz asked, looking up from his work.

"A bit," she admitted. "Did you get everything done?"

"Almost," he said, shutting his laptop. "We’ll be okay. Go change, we’re going out for dinner.”

Later, at a cozy restaurant, Y/n glanced at the menu, her frustration mounting. "I can’t even understand the fucking menu," she said, throwing it against the table in exasperation.

Kaz, unfazed, caught the attention of a nearby waiter and swiftly changed to the local language, ordering for both of them. Y/n watched him, a mix of awe and confusion in her eyes.

"Kaz, who the fuck are you? I knew your job was shady, but you killed someone and now we are in another country and-”

Kaz leaned back, his expression unreadable. "We’ll have to make it believable. Pictures, tickets for museums—"

The waiter interrupted, placing two large drinks in front of them. Y/n immediately chugged half of hers. "I’m scared of you," she admitted, her eyes locked onto his.

"I know how it looks, but you’re safe with me," Kaz said, his voice firm yet soothing.

"If you say so. Can you get me another one?" she replied, finishing the rest of her drink in one go. "Why do I always put myself in these situations?" she muttered, more to herself than to him.

Kaz signaled the waiter for another round, his eyes never leaving Y/n's. "You didn’t put yourself in this situation. I did. And I’ll get us out of it."

Y/n sighed, resting her head in her hands. "I just… I don’t know what to think anymore. Everything’s moving so fast."

Kaz leaned in, his voice low. "We need to establish our alibi. We’ll visit a few landmarks, take pictures, buy souvenirs. It has to look like we planned this. Jesper’s handling the logistics, but we need to be seen, leave a trail."

Y/n nodded slowly, absorbing the plan. "And after that?"

"The police will question you as soon as they can, so we won’t leave until you’re ready. We need to make sure everything looks airtight."

During dinner, Kaz began to ease her into the reality of his job. He spoke softly, explaining the various aspects of his life she had only glimpsed before.

"I handle a lot of things behind the scenes," he started, picking his words carefully. "We deal with information, leverage, sometimes money. It's not always clean, but it’s necessary."

Y/n listened intently, her eyes never leaving his. "And by 'necessary,' you mean...?"

"I mean that there are people who need protection, people who can’t protect themselves. We make sure they’re safe, that they have what they need. Sometimes it means stepping into dangerous territory."

"Like killing my ex-boyfriend?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Kaz’s grip on her hand tightened slightly. "It would, if I did that."

Y/n swallowed hard, her gaze dropping to their joined hands. "Right. It’s a lot to take in."

"I know it is," Kaz replied gently. "And I don’t expect you to be okay with it overnight. But I need you to understand why I do what I do."

She took a deep breath, looking back up at him. "I get it, Kaz. I do. I just... I need time to accept this."

"Take all the time you need," he assured her. 

As they left the restaurant, Kaz wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "Do you like this place?" he asked quietly, his voice filled with an uncharacteristic tenderness.

Y/n looked up at him, a small, hopeful smile playing on her lips. "Yeah, the city is beautiful… I never said thank you for saving me."

Kaz tightened his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. "You don't need to thank me, Y/n. I’m just glad you called me. I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if something had happened to you."

Y/n’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. "But I do need to thank you. You didn’t have to come, to risk everything for me. But you did."

Kaz stopped walking and turned to face her, his expression earnest. "You matter to me, Y/n. More than you know. I would do it again in a heartbeat."

Y/n took a deep breath, searching for his eyes. "I was so fucking scared, Kaz. I have no idea where I found the courage to call you."

Kaz cupped her face in his hands, his touch gentle and reassuring. "I’m really glad you did. I mean, this is not exactly how I imagined our first trip together, but it’ll do."

She gave a small, shaky laugh, the tension easing slightly. "I'm sorry for the breakup too... I'm sorry you couldn't do it on your own terms and in your own time."

Kaz sighed, his thumbs gently stroking her cheeks. "I should have done it sooner. It was a bomb ready to explode, and I kept delaying it, thinking I could handle everything. But it wasn't fair to anyone—especially not to Inej."

Y/n leaned into his touch, her eyes closing for a moment as she absorbed his words. "I know you didn't want to hurt her. Or anyone."

He nodded, his own guilt and regret clear in his eyes. "I never wanted things to turn out this way. Inej deserved better than how I handled things. I was a coward, trying to keep everything balanced."

They settled into the unfamiliar bed as comfortably as Y/n's injuries allowed. Kaz scrolled through movie options while she made calls to reassure her roommates and grandma that she hadn't vanished into thin air.

“Yes, grandma, I'm with Kaz… Yes, I'll say hi… No, we are not eloping… No, we are not!” Y/n's cheeks were flushed, and Kaz couldn't help but snort at her side of the conversation.

“Grandma, I'm not pregnant… No, I'm not passing you to him… Why don't you believe me?” Y/n turned towards Kaz with a defeated look. “She wants to speak with you.”

Kaz sighed and took the phone. “Hello, Alice.”

“So? Are you eloping?” Alice's voice came through, bold and direct.

“Definitely not,” Kaz replied firmly.

“Are you sure? I'll convince her,” Alice continued.

Kaz glanced at Y/n, who mouthed 'friends'. “We are just friends,” he clarified aloud.

“Yeah sure, how do you feel about having children? Like right now.” Alice didn't hold back.

“Seems a bit soon,” Kaz snorted.

“I'm getting old, I want a niece or a nephew, more a niece if I have to choose,” Alice insisted.

“I don't think you and Y/n are on the same page about that,” Kaz said diplomatically.

“That's why I wanted to talk to you! Get to work, boy!” Alice's tone was playful but insistent.

Kaz nervously chuckled. “Alice, we're not even in a relationship.”

“Then explain why suddenly you hop on a plane and go to another country!” Alice pressed on.

“It was my birthday yesterday-” Kaz tried to explain.

“And what does your girlfriend think about this?” Alice questioned.

“We broke up,” Kaz admitted reluctantly.

“Oh, I'm sorry dear. You can cheer yourself up by making me a great grandmother. Bye,” Alice concluded abruptly.

Kaz stared at the phone, puzzled. “What's this thing with children?”

“She's going through a phase, it happens every time her birthday is near, ” Y/n shrugged. “And she thinks you have nice teeth.”

“And that makes me a wonderful candidate to have children with you?” Kaz raised an eyebrow, earning a playful kick from Y/n.

“She said I'm getting old and desperate and that I should settle for everything that comes my way,” Y/n laughed.

“Desperate, yes, I can see it,” Kaz replied, dodging another playful kick, “but old seems a bit much.”

“Thanks,” Y/n chuckled, settling back against the pillows.

“Is it weird? Knowing that you’re not together anymore?” Y/n’s voice broke through the silence, gentle yet probing

Kaz turned his attention back to her, his expression softening as he considered her question. “A lot,” he admitted quietly, his voice carrying the weight of years spent with Inej. “We’ve been through so much together, and I was so worried that she could leave me that I never contemplated the thought that I could leave her.”

Y/n listened intently, her eyes reflecting understanding rather than judgment. “You probably think it’s lame,” he chuckled, a hint of self-deprecation coloring his tone.

“No,” she replied softly, shaking her head. “It’s sweet. It shows how much you care about her, even if things didn’t work out.”

Kaz exhaled slowly, grateful for her empathy. “I suppose so.”

Silence settled between them again, neither rushing to fill it. Y/n shifted closer, her presence comforting in the midst of his thoughts. She reached out, her hand finding his and intertwining their fingers gently.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to have something like that,” she confessed after a moment, her voice tinged with wistfulness.

Kaz felt a pang of empathy as he listened to her, the weight of her words resonating deeply with him. He squeezed her hand gently, offering silent support as she spoke.

“When I wanted it, it always ended up bad,” she said softly, a sad smile playing on her lips.

Kaz nodded slowly, his mind filling with thoughts of the hurtful words her ex had spat out, and the unseen scars she must have carried from past relationships. He understood now why she was hesitant, why she approached relationships with caution.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Kaz said sincerely, his voice laced with empathy. “No one deserves to be hurt like that.”

Y/n glanced at him, her expression portraying gratitude and vulnerability. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

He wanted to tell her again— that he wanted more from her, that he longed for a committed relationship where they could build something together. That he was sure that things would work. But at the same time, he hesitated. He didn't want to scare her away, didn't want to rush her into something she might not be ready for, especially given her past experiences.

Y/n's head nestled against his shoulder, her body fitting perfectly into the curve of his arm. He ran his fingers gently through her hair, savoring the comfort of their intimacy.

"Aren't you clingy today?" he teased lightly, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Y/n hummed contentedly, her voice muffled against his chest. "How's your rib?" he asked, his concern evident despite the casual tone.

"Hurts like hell," Y/n admitted with a small wince, shifting carefully to find a more comfortable position. "I won't be able to have proper sex for Ghezen knows how long."

Kaz chuckled softly. "Always your first concern," he teased gently, his hand moving to rest on her back in a soothing gesture.

"It's my job, love," Y/n replied with a half-smile.

Y/n nestled closer to Kaz, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek. “I’m falling asleep,” Kaz murmured, his voice drowsy and soft as he closed his eyes, resting his head gently on hers.

“Baby, it’s not even 10 pm,” she laughed, the sound light and soothing in the quiet room.

“I didn’t sleep all morning like you,” Kaz replied, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “And tomorrow, we have an entire city to visit.”

“Yeah? Are we going to be tourists?” she asked, a playful note in her voice.

“Of course,” he whispered, the weight of the past 24 hours starting to lift from his shoulders as sleep began to take over. The stress, the fear, and the tension were slowly fading away, replaced by a sense of calm and contentment.

Y/n sighed contentedly, her fingers tracing light patterns on his chest. “I like the sound of that,” she said softly. 

Kaz hummed in agreement, his breathing evening out as he began to drift off. 

His breathing deepened, his body relaxing completely as he succumbed to the pull of sleep. “Goodnight, love,” he whispered. “Goodnight, Kaz,” she whispered back.

***

Turned out, they had really different visions of what being “tourists” meant. It was 7 am, and Kaz was ready to go. “Y/n, wake up, come on.”

The girl replied with an annoyed hum, “What?”

“It’s 7 am,” he urged.

“Is the police here?” she asked into the pillow.

“No.”

“What do you want from me then?”

“We said we’d visit the city. I made a plan,” Kaz explained with a determined tone.

“Of course you did,” Y/n opened one eye to look at him, the early morning light filtering into the room. “Come back to sleep, come on.”

“But if we get out early, we won’t have to make too many queues,” he insisted, sounding almost excited about his meticulously crafted itinerary.

Y/n rolled onto her back, sighing heavily, “How many points does your plan have?”

“Twenty,” he replied, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“What?” she exclaimed, half-laughing, half-despairing at his dedication. 

“I’ll walk you through it while you make breakfast,” he said, undeterred.

“Oh, now I have to make breakfast too,” she said, raising herself onto her elbows, wincing slightly as her ribs protested the movement.

“I ordered groceries,” Kaz said, trying to sound helpful.

“You could have ordered breakfast,” she pointed out, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Kaz paused, lost in thought. “Yeah, I should’ve done that,” he admitted.

Y/n chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Unbelievable,” she said, her tone affectionate despite her exasperation. She slowly swung her legs out of bed, stretching cautiously to avoid aggravating her injuries. “Alright, let’s see this plan of yours. What’s the first stop?” she asked, standing up and heading towards the kitchen.

Kaz followed her, a pleased smile on his face. “Buying a cane and a pair of glasses.”

“That sounds really reasonable,” Y/n commented, focusing on making coffee and breakfast. “Is any of your points about sitting in bars, doing shopping…?”

“No, not for the next two days,” Kaz checked his phone to be sure. “Yeah, Tuesday you have a free hour.”

Y/n turned to look at him with wide eyes, sliding a plate toward him. 

Kaz ignored her shocked expression, focused on eating. “Move in with me.”

“You just want someone to fuck you every night and make you breakfast every morning,” she teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Why do you always have to be so vulgar?”

“Because it’s the truth.”

“It is,” he admitted with his mouth half full.

“That’s not even a girlfriend thing, Kaz,  you’re going directly for wife-level requests,” Y/n retorted, shaking her head in mock disbelief.

Kaz chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Well, why settle for less when I can aim high?”

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t hide her smile. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you like it,” he shot back, his grin widening.

“Debatable,” she quipped, pouring coffee into two mugs. “I mean, what’s in it for me?”

“Well, besides the obvious,” Kaz said, giving her a playful wink, “you get the pleasure of my company every day.”

“Oh, joy,” she replied sarcastically, handing him a mug. “Just what I always wanted.”

Kaz took a sip of his coffee, savoring the warmth. “See? I knew you’d come around.”

“Don’t get too cocky,” Y/n warned, poking him in the chest. “I haven’t said yes.”

“Yet,” he added, raising an eyebrow.

Y/n laughed, shaking her head. “Is this your new approach? Tormenting me until I give in?”

“Yep,” Kaz replied with a grin. “Persistence pays off.”

“Oh baby, good luck with that,” y/n leaned to kiss his temple while passing him, “we’re not even dating.” She whispered in his ear before heading to the bathroom.

His gaze followed her around the house, his mind racing. ‘For now,’ he thought, letting a grin spread across his face. He took another bite of his breakfast, savoring the moment. 

Kaz perfectly knew that for most of it they were playing with each other, but the heaviness of all the mistakes he made with Inej were pressing down on him. With her, he wanted to get things right, never make something too soon or too late, too afraid of screwing up. But where did it all lead to? The biggest screw-up ever done. So he kept asking himself why not? Why not make an even bigger mess and see where that brought him and Y/n?

Why not move in together, perfectly aware that it was too soon? In his eyes, the concepts of messy and fun were dangerously blurring together. And then, she told him she loved him, he definitely did not forget that. Might have been really a slip-up, yes, or something totally meaningless, he witnessed firsthand Y/n telling a waiter she loved him, but still, it happened, and he was going to cling to that a bit.

Kaz's thoughts churned as he watched her move around the house. She was wearing her bright new lingerie, the smooth fabric contrasting sharply with the angry bruise on her side. Her hair was a mess of waves, still tousled from sleep, and the sight of her like this, so natural and unguarded, made something in his chest tighten. There was a grace to her movements, even in the midst of her casual morning routine. Each step she took, every small gesture, seemed to echo in the silence of the room, drawing his attention and holding it captive.

She turned towards him, catching him staring. A small, teasing smile played on her lips. “Enjoying the view?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Kaz smirked, pushing off the doorframe and walking over to her. “Always,” he replied, his voice low and sincere.

He watched her as she moved, captivated by the way the morning light caressed her skin, highlighting the curve of her waist and the gentle sway of her hips. He found himself mesmerized by the way the fabric moved with her, the way her muscles flexed and relaxed with each step. There was something incredibly alluring about her in this state—unfiltered, raw, and absolutely stunning.

“Is there something on your mind?” she asked, her tone playful yet curious.

Kaz shook his head slightly, a small smile playing on his lips. “Just appreciating the morning,” he said, his eyes never leaving her.

She laughed softly, the sound like music to his ears. “Sure you are,” she teased, turning back to her tasks. Her laughter was infectious, filling the room with a warmth that made his heart swell. As she moved, her fingers lightly traced the countertop, a gesture that seemed almost absentminded yet was so characteristically her.

“You know, if it wasn’t for my broken rib, I wouldn’t have let you leave the bed,” she added with a playful smirk, casting a glance over her shoulder at him.

Kaz sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes with a smile. “What about my plan?”

She turned fully to face him, leaning against the counter with a sparkle in her eye. “Oh, I would have made a detailed twenty-points-plan,” she laughed, her voice filled with genuine amusement. He chuckled softly, shaking his head at her playful persistence. “Is that so? And what would this plan entail?”

She took a deliberate step closer, her movements fluid and purposeful, closing the distance between them with a teasing glint in her eye. “Well, for starters, it would involve a lot more staying in bed,” she teased, her voice laced with a hint of seduction. Her eyes sparkled as she continued, “Maybe on the couch, and I’m sure there’s at least one point about the kitchen table.”

Kaz raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Is that right?”

“Oh, definitely,” she nodded confidently, her gaze growing more intense as she reached for his belt.

“We have to get going, get dressed,” Kaz interjected suddenly, pressing a quick kiss on her forehead before gently moving away. He could feel the warmth of her proximity, making it challenging to think straight. His retreat was as much a practical necessity as it was an attempt to maintain focus on their plans for the day.

Y/n sighed in mock defeat, rolling her eyes playfully. “Fine,” she replied, though a hint of disappointment lingered in her voice.

Despite the playful banter, he knew there was a deeper undercurrent to their relationship. They were teetering on the edge of something significant, something that could either be incredibly rewarding or disastrously painful. But he was ready to take the risk. He had spent too much of his life carefully calculating every move, and for once, he wanted to let go of that control, to embrace the chaos and see where it led them.

***

“Come on, let’s take at least one picture together,” Y/n pleaded for what felt like the millionth time in the last days, her voice tinged with playful persistence.

“No,” Kaz replied, his tone firm yet slightly weary.

“But you said we had to!” she insisted, holding up her phone.

“I don’t like taking pictures,” Kaz muttered, feeling immensely self-conscious under her gaze.

“No one is going to see it, just maybe the police,” she coaxed, trying to reassure him.

“I don’t know what to do in pictures,” he admitted, avoiding her gaze as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Smile,” she shrugged, her lips curling into a gentle smile as she adjusted the phone.

“I don’t smile,” he grumbled.

“You smile, a lot,” she countered, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Kaz sighed, glancing at her phone with an annoyed expression. Just as she aimed to take a selfie, a notification popped up on her screen. ‘When are you coming back? I miss you already’ from someone labeled ‘Cute guy tennis.’ Kaz didn’t miss the message, his jaw tightening slightly. Y/n quickly swiped the notification away, focusing back on the task of taking the picture.

“Still with the tennis guy?” he asked bitterly.

“Apparently,” she shrugged nonchalantly, “we look cute in this one.” She showed him a picture where she was beaming at the camera while he was side-eyeing her with a smirk. Kaz cursed himself internally; did he really go around making that stupid face while looking at her?

“It’s not bad,” he commented, trying to sound indifferent. Another message popped up: ‘We have so many lessons to catch up’

Kaz couldn't help but let the bitterness seep into his voice as he asked, “So, he’s a tennis instructor?”

“Yes, Kaz,” Y/n replied, her tone clipped and clearly annoyed by his persistence.

He glanced away, his words dripping with sarcasm. “Thought you preferred bigger wallets.”

She shot him a sharp look, her irritation evident. “Are you jealous or something? I’m pretty sure I’m allowed to date who I want,” she retorted, crossing her arms defensively. “And for your information, he owns the tennis club.”

Kaz raised an eyebrow, the sarcasm still lingering in his voice. “That’s more like you.”

Y/n’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He sighed, knowing he was treading on thin ice but unable to stop himself. “It means you always seem to go for the ones with status and money. It’s like you have a type.”

She bristled at his comment. “You don’t know anything about my type.”

Kaz met her gaze, his eyes hardening. “Maybe not, but I know enough to see a pattern.”

Y/n took a step closer, her voice rising. “You think you have me all figured out, don’t you? Well, newsflash, Kaz, you don’t.”

He stood his ground, his own frustration bubbling to the surface. “I just find it interesting that you always seem to end up with guys who can offer you something more than just a good time.”

She shook her head, disbelief and anger mingling in her expression. “You don’t get to judge me or my choices.”

Kaz felt a pang of guilt at her words but pushed it aside, his pride getting the better of him. “I’m not judging, just observing. You were dating Nikolai Lanstov, when? Like last week?”

Y/N scoffed, her eyes flashing with anger. “Kaz, it was never a secret that I dated multiple people at the same time and that I had no intention of stopping.”

Kaz sighed, rolling his eyes. “You’re single now, sleep around, date who you want,” she said, her annoyance evident in her tone.

He shook his head, frustration mounting. In what language did he have to explain to her that he didn’t want anyone else? “Sure, that’s what I’m going to do as soon as we’re home,” he said harshly, the words leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Great,” she shot back, her voice cold.

“Good,” he replied, his own anger simmering just beneath the surface.

They stood there, the tension between them almost tangible. Kaz clenched his fists, trying to keep his emotions in check. He knew he had handled this all wrong, but he didn’t know how to fix it. The jealousy, the frustration, the fear of losing her—it all tangled together, clouding his judgment.

“How many points of your plan do we still have for today?” Y/N asked, still annoyed.

“Five.”

“Then let’s go, Brekker,” she said, taking his hand and leading the way. They kept strolling through parks and museums, their fight quickly forgotten.

“No, wait, don't look. This place is on tomorrow’s plan,” Kaz said seriously, checking his phone.

Y/N laughed at him, her annoyance fading. “Have you ever been relaxed for one moment in your life? Just change the plan.”

Kaz stopped in the middle of crossing the road, causing a small commotion. “You can't just ‘change the plan,’ Y/N.”

“Why not?”

“It shows that you never planned anything in your life.”

Y/N shook her head while people started to honk and yell for them to move. “I just let things happen. Just go with the flow.”

“I tell the flow where to go, so don’t look to your right, and let’s go,” he insisted, pulling her along.

Y/N rolled her eyes, “Kaz, you’re the only person I know who can schedule spontaneity.”

“You should see my calendar. It’s got ‘spontaneous moments’ blocked out in 15-minute intervals.”

“Fine, Mr. Control Freak. Lead the way,” Y/N teased, finally relenting.

Kaz smirked. “That’s more like it. Now, let’s get back on track—literally and figuratively.”

As they continued walking, Kaz glanced at his phone. “Okay, we’ve got a 30-second window for a spontaneous laugh starting… now.”

Y/N burst out laughing. “What?”

“See? You’re laughing,” Kaz replied, a grin spreading across his face. He leaned in to kiss her, his lips brushing against hers softly.

“That wasn’t planned,” she smiled against his lips, feeling the warmth of his affection.

“You’ll never know,” he said as he took her hand and continued their itinerary.

[bblueraven-and-fandoms14]

Controversial take the AA and Narumitsu fandom are going to flame my ass whatever but as an avid Narumitsu shipper and Miles Edgeworth fan (he's my #1 favorite character of the franchise) I love bastard Phoenix but in the specific flavor of him cheating on Miles with Kristoph during the 7yg. Like. Because tbh Phoenix gets attached and loves (obsseses) over people so readily and easily that once he has very little to loose he decides to try and keep what he does have and he wants both. Why CAN'T he have both he wants both. Is it fair to Miles AND to Kristoph? No but life hasn't been fair to HIM either and it's selfish and he's a horrible partner, he feels guilty so so much, but he can't stop, he can't let go of either because he wants BOTH. He clings to both and refuses to let go. He has so much to give why can't he take a bit, too. Why can't he have them both!!!! Miles is his past and Kristoph could be part of his present and he refuses to let go of any of it. Then he fully learns was Kristoph is doing and plays the game and continues because, yeah he'll bring Kristoph down but he still wants both, even if it's not good for him. So he'll keep both as long as he can. Even if he's going to destroy one of them in the end. Once again life is not being fair and this must be Karma, for trying to grab too much, trying to hold too much in his hands. So if it's going to be over and by his own hands, he will keep indulging as long as he can.

Extra points Kristoph absolutely knows and seethes everytime Miles visits because Phoenix goes away during that time even though he ends up back with him once Miles leaves and why is Kristoph once again coming second? He hates Mile's ass (but he wonders what it is about that man. He is curious, in a morbid way. He wants a taste himself, just to see what of Miles is so good that Phoenix can't stop himself from eating from it even now).

Miles doesn't know at first but he starts suspecting and then he learns about it but he... doesn't say anything. He's a self respecting man, he SHOULD say something for his own self at the least but he. He thinks of everything that has happened. He sees how defeated Phoenix is. He remembers being defeted himself. He remembers he owes Phoenix half his life, really. He is so attached himself, and what would he do without Phoenix in his life? So he decides its fine, isn't it? Because it's partially Miles fault, too. He's not There. He's away too much, all the time, during Phoenix's time of need. And Phoenix is just a man. Just like him. And he wonders. He wishes he knew Kristoph more, and he's jealous and angry at him because Kristoph is dignified and not a bit weird in his likes and idiosyncrasies and perhaps that's the appeal, someone who isn't a bit odd and who is actually there. He remembers that one date he's ever been to, back in highschool. He remembers trying so hard to be likable. He remembers failing at it. He sees how easy it is for Kristoph to do what he couldn't and still can't. And he wonders how it is to taste that in a partner.

Anyways in the end I think they should all kiss idk 🧍🏻‍♀️ (there are two specific things I have consumed in this fandom that have built my hc's for Krisnix, Nrmts, and narumitskris during the 7yr gap and the fic specifically is /it/ like that's lowkey canon to me with some tweaks to fit canon timeline and events and characters).

*coughs* I rambled I just think all 3 could have the most interesting dynamic known to man YES including Miles/Kristoph can you imagine the chaos of that? It's Phoenix's worst and best dream come to life. I think Miles/Kristoph is supremely underrated actually. I think they should all fuck nasty and hate-filled. Thank you for coming to my....uh. Insanity.

(I also love the idea of Miles and Kristoph cat fighting over a man who CHEATS like girls get up omg [all 3 are deranged])

[rarepears]

Nie Huaisang, Lan Xichen, Jin Guangyao, and Nie Mingjue all reincarnate together into PIDW, and become disciples around the same time as Luo Binghe.

The drama of this is of course enhanced by the facts that NMJ & JGY died "early," but NHS & LXC lived to the end of their natural lives as cultivators, and so some of their perspectives and opinions on events have naturally changed with age. (tfw the passage of time renders you unfamiliar to your once-loved ones)

Eventually they talk about their feelings and reconcile and such, and this ends up derailing the plot of PIDW severely as the rest of the PIDW characters confusedly observe quite possibly the weirdest disciples Cang Qiong's ever seen

NMJ on Bai Zhan, with no clue what's going on because he died first and NHS & LXC haven't told him anything

NHS on An Ding, thoroughly enjoying what's pretty much a vacation to him at this point and possibly running an interpeak illicit goods market (definitely not to distract himself from any of the emotions having NMJ & JGY alive and nearby would be causing him, Everything Is Fine) I haven't decided if he'd get involved with the whole og!SQH and MBJ situation tho

LXC on Qiong Ding, because I feel like he'd see himself in Yue Qingyuan and lowkey hate him for it and I think that could be interesting

JGY on Qing Jing, because he's the objectively the funniest/most interesting character to throw into the mess that is SJ and LBH. The way I imagine it, he's doing the most direct derailing of the plot, because he mostly accidentally gets right in the middle of the thing that is going on between those two

I feel like as I wrote this it became more serious than I originally intended so just know that I'm mentally picturing this like a fic that's interspersed with outsider POV of the 4 of them being completely deranged about eachother

(Also I'd feel bad taking away LXC's brother so LWJ and WWX + friends are busy doing hot girl shit being rogue cultivators. I think WWX should be a half demon so he gets to keep the cultivation and steal some of LBH's protagonist energy. If this was a fic then the rest of the Untamed gang would be perfect to use for side characters during off-peak missions)

*grabs popcorn and sits down to hear more*

Nie Huaisang is having too much fun waiting the two idiots called his shizun and shizun's poorly kept secret of a boyfriend go flailing around on these terribly unromantic dates BUT THE TWO WERE TRYING SO HARD that it was cute. He wonders if he should do something to help the poor idiots out... Should he?

Maybe he should...

(Watch Shang Qinghua and Mobei Jun suddenly have a number of sex pollen accidents over the next few months....)

Lan Xichen would be an old man and a good voice of reason for Yue Qingyuan. Although he's head disciple and a very good one at that (if only because his Big Brother instincts can't be held back and he MUST interfere to help prevent history repeating once more), Lan Xichen has made it very clear that he would never accept becoming sect leader.

Also don't forget Liu Mingyan in the background writing about a 4 person sex orgy. At least, that's her personal theory for why there's so much UNRESOLVED TENSION between these four sus male disciples. And also, because it's fun.

It's even funner when you consider that Nie Mingjue is out of the loop of Cang Qiong stuff even on Bai Zhan because he tags along on so many of Liu Qingge's missions that he's probably spending like 8 months of the year outside of the sect.

(Nie Huaisang gets "assigned" to missions that happen to take place near Nie Mingjue's hunts.)

Meng Yao is Meng Yao and he still craves the approval of Male Authority Figures That Could be his dad. Also Meng Yao still likes to climb up the social hierarchy and power. AKA Luo Binghe growing mushrooms in the corner at seeing ANOTHER QING JING disciple THE SAME AGE AS HIM being given SO MUCH ATTENTION AND APPROVAL by shizun.

Luo Binghe develops a complex over Meng Yao of course.

(Shen Jiu approves of Meng Yao because he understands these characters very well and know how to manipulate (cough kill or injury them physically or mentally) them easily. Plus Meng Yao is actually competent.)

[More in #Nie Huaisang Lan Xichen Meng Yao and Nie Mingjue reincarnate into PIDW and are Cang Qiong disciples at the same time as Luo Binghe is AU

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

Astarion + Evie, Accidental Marriage + Time Travel, please!

Send Me 2 Prompts + A Ship

Astarion x Evie (Ace!Tav) Masterlist

A/N: This one was tough, not gonna lie, but I think I got there.

My first thought is something happens to land Evie far into Astarion's past

This is the time he's a magistrate before Cazador

For Evie this all happens post game

She and Astarion are traveling together, they're in love, it's great

But they come across a temple where some ancient wizard was messing with chronomancy magic

Evie triggers a trap and it flings her back in time

Lost and unsure of what to do, she makes her way out of the temple and towards the nearest place she knows she has friends; Baldur's Gate

Of course, when she gets there, it's not the Baldur's Gate she knows and it quickly becomes apparent just how far back she went

Through some shenanigans and misunderstandings she ends up getting swept in a raid and brought before none other than magistrate Ancunin

Evie doesn't do herself any favors by instinctually calling him "Astarion" and not "your honor"

When put to the stand, Astarion barely glances at her case before passing judgement, but Evie isn't about to take it lying down

Astarion told her more than once that even before meeting Cazador he wasn't exactly a kind man, but Evie hadn't appreciated his true meaning until that moment; he was a fucking asshole

Evie then very thoroughly defends herself to the point Astarion is turning down right red in the face

As much as he would love to be petty, there is an audience and he's got more cases to get through so he lets her go with a fine

Evie leaves annoyed and suddenly faced with a dilemma; does she tell him?

Her instinct is to go back inside and warn him about Cazador, but would that mean changing the future?

If Astarion was never turned then he wouldn't have eventually been captured by the mindflayers, they wouldn't have met and there was a good chance the Absolute might have prevailed in the end without him

On the other hand, how could she live with herself if she didn't even try

Magistrate Astarion meanwhile is fuming

It shouldn't bother him so much; it wasn't the first time a defendant had gotten mouthy in the courtroom, but this one was different

It wasn't just that she was Gur, even if that did rub him the wrong way

It was the way she looked at him, the way she said his name; it was more than a passing familiarity, she *knew* him

He felt deeply seen by her in a way he never had experience with anyone, and he barely knew her name; who in the hells was she?

He ends up going to hunt her down in the city too plagued with unanswered questions to think rationally

Evie meanwhile has resolved to fine Astarion the next morning and try to warn him when she finds him bursting into the Elfsong demanding to talk with her

It's awkward, at first as once they're face to face with each other; neither of them know exactly what to say to each other

Astarion realizes how deranged it is to walk up to a stranger and ask them "why does it feels like you know me"

Meanwhile Evie is wracking her brain trying to figure out how to convince him she's not some raving lunatic

So they get a drink, then two, then three and start to talk

Astarion starts with the trial asking her how she game to Baldur's Gate, hoping that will give him some insight as to where he might have met her before

Of course, Evie is decidedly vague about the whole thing

Evie tries to warn him about Cazador, but Astarion can only think of the man as some noble recluse

The family does have a reputation though, so he can't see himself making a "deal" any time soon

Evie just gets frustrated because he's not fully grasping what she's trying to say

The deeper they get into their cups the more they're just talking past each other

All Astarion is really hearing that this point is that a beautiful woman traveled apparently a long way to make sure he was safe and cared for

Evie starts to see Astarion's pretension slip away as he turns more into the funny, slightly goofy man she fell in love with; it makes it easy to forget when exactly she is

At some point words are forgotten and they fall into each others arms; Evie missing her Astarion and this Astarion reveling in being loved

Neither of them knows when it happened or even how; but somewhere in their collective blackout state they walk up together in the court house with a ring on Evie's finger and a marriage certificate in Astarion's hand

Astarion is of course horrified and immediately wants the whole thing to disappear, but due to the type of certificate they signed it's not as easy as a simple divorce

Evie is frankly a little embarrassed by Astarion's reaction, but she has to remind herself that he's not *her* Astarion

*Her* Astarion is no doubt doing something stupid right now to get her back and if this Astarion isn't going to listen to her warnings she needs to start focusing on making her way back

Queue the pair of them trying to ignore each other and being utterly unable to

I'm not sure of all the details, but Evie would eventually make it back to her own timeline having determined that this world is separate from her own

She is able to successfully convince Magistrate Astarion that she's not crazy and while she can't be certain he won't meet Cazador, he is different than when they first met and could end up making very different choices

Of course her Astarion to relieved to have her back and absolutely will not live down the idea of her marrying another version of himself; he truly is irresistible in every universe

Evie counters that if anything she's the irresistible one; he's the one that proposed to her after all

Some part of Astarion is resentful at his other version getting to live a life he had stolen from him; on the other hand, six months with Evie somehow managed to counter balance 200 years of darkness and ruin, perhaps he got the better deal

[y13evie]

Something that's living in my head: Cameron x reader where reader picks Cameron up from work and house is spying on them.

Btw love you fics luv❣️

i’m so sorry for the wait! here you go my dear ❤️

tags: nothin but fluff, gn! reader

it’s 7 o’clock pm. you’re sitting in an ‘employees only’ parking spot waiting for your girlfriend’s shift to end. the reservation you ordered for the surprise date was for 7:30. you anxiously tap the steering wheel, praying your dear, overworked girlfriend, isn’t too late. you grin as the doors open to the hospital and allison greets you with a warm smile. she makes her way to the passenger door and gets in the car, happy to be done with her shift. you sit and chat about her day, completely oblivious to the fact her slightly deranged coworker has gotten into his car as well. on a few occasions you’ve met dr. gregory house, he’s a funny guy to be around. a little weird; although, very intelligent. you two pulled out of the parking lot and began your trip to the restaurant. allison had been able to change out of her scrubs before she left, however you wouldn’t mind if she showed up in the most ridiculous thing ever. she was gorgeous.

absentmindedly listening to the sound of allison rant about the ups and downs of her day, you didn’t notice how the same black car follows you to your destination. however there are a lot of black car and you have bigger things to worry about. you pull into the restaurant and find a parking spot close to the entrance. allison has already walked far more than needed today. you hold her hand delicately as you enter the restaurant and are guided to your seats.

“i really do appreciate you”. she stares at you from across the table. she still makes your heart race like the first day you met.

“you know i’ll do anything for you, allison.” she smiles at the affection and looks down to see what she’ll want for dinner tonight.

the two of you scan the menu, unaware of the eyes burning holes into your heads. house knew something was up when dr. cameron was overly happy almost all day. nobody could be so excited at 8 am. so naturally, he had to investigate. now he’s here. at a nice restaurant, sitting in a booth alone ominously sipping on an extra dry martini. each time the waiter asks if he’s ready to start on anything he shoos him away, intently watching the situation.

before asking if your ready, your waiter approaches your table. he looks a little nervous.

“i’m so sorry for interrupting, but the man sitting in that booth over there had been watching the two of you all night.” he motions his head to house’s secluded booth.

allison scoffs and puts her hand up, “we’re fine, thank you.”. she gets up and you quickly follow, making your way to the booth. she slaps her hands down on his table.

“what the hell are you doing here.”

house looks around sheepishly, “eating? what else would i do at a restaurant?”.

“oh i don’t know, maybe stalking me?” she sighs in disbelief. house looks just as shocked, staring at her, wide mouthed. he throws his hands up in defeat. “maybe i was following you guys. BUT, only because you were way too happy to be at your job. i knew something was wrong.”.

“oh my god! nothing is wrong, no wonder you get a bad rep. you follow your colleagues.”. house rolls his eyes at her statement, looking you up and down. the three of you wait in silence until house breaks the ice.

“if i pay for your dinner will you leave me alone?”. the two of you look at each other and somehow telepathically agree on the offer. allison nods, and slowly backs away with you right behind her. you two sit back down at your original table and finally relax for a moment.

“free dinner is free dinner, right?”