#maybe i’ll slow down my update schedule

[corvidarcana]

The autism “i like the structure of writing and updating this fancomic every week” vs the autism “i’m not invested in this source media anymore” fight to the death hardmode

[dayabelle]

December

Pairings: Bakugo Katsuki x Fem Reader

Part 2!

Part 1, Part 3 soon

This one's a bit shorter then my other works but it won't always be this short

---

December 2nd,

The morning light filtered through the frosty windowpanes of Y/n’s workshop, casting a soft glow over her workbench. She stirred a fresh cup of coffee, the warm aroma filling the air and mingling with the ever-present metallic scent of her tools and gadgets. It was quiet now, save for the occasional crunch of footsteps on the snowy street outside. She loved these calm moments before her day picked up speed.

With her mug in hand, Y/n walked over to the bulletin board hanging on the wall beside her bench. It was filled with pinned blueprints, notes, and checklists. At the top of her list for the day was finishing some sketches for shock-absorbent gloves, an idea that had been rattling around in her brain for weeks.

Settling onto her stool, Y/n flipped open her notebook to a fresh page. Her pencil glided over the paper, bringing the gloves to life. She thought about the pro heroes she’d seen struggling with heavy impact injuries—how a bit of clever engineering could reduce those risks. The sketches became more detailed as she jotted down notes:

Adjustable compression settings.

Reinforced yet lightweight material.

Energy redistribution to minimize strain.

Minutes turned to hours as she lost herself in the creative process. Her coffee cooled beside her, forgotten. The quiet hum of the street outside became a comforting background melody.

But the sound of the bell above her shop’s door jolted her from her focus. She glanced up, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face, and saw a familiar figure wrapped in layers of winter clothing.

“Hey, Y/n!” Ochako Uraraka’s voice was bright, her cheeks pink from the cold as she stepped inside.

Y/n blinked in surprise before smiling. “Ochako! What brings you here this early? I wasn’t expecting visitors.”

Ochako laughed, brushing snow off her boots and unwinding her scarf. “I hope I’m not interrupting. I just thought I’d stop by—talk about some gear stuff, and, well, maybe just hang out for a bit.”

“You? Hanging out? That’s new,” Y/n teased, motioning for her to come in. “I’m guessing your schedule finally let up a little?”

Ochako shrugged, pulling off her gloves and plopping down onto a nearby stool. “Something like that. It’s December—feels like everyone’s slowing down a bit. Plus, Deku told me you’ve got a big meeting today, and I just had to come see how you’re feeling about it.”

Y/n groaned, grabbing a rag to wipe her hands clean. “Let me guess. Bakugo?”

“Ding, ding,” Ochako said, smirking. “Come on, what’s going through your head? The guy’s kind of...intense, you know.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Y/n replied, leaning against her workbench. “I mean, I’m not really worried. It’s not like I haven’t worked with stubborn heroes before. But he’s got a reputation, and I’m hoping he doesn’t live up to it.”

Ochako giggled. “Well, good luck with that. Honestly, though, you’re probably the best person to handle him. You’re like...unshakable.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Y/n said, smiling. “How about you? Anything new with your gear?”

Ochako’s face lit up as she leaned forward. “Actually, yes! I’ve been thinking about a new design for my boots—something that could give me more control when I’m floating heavier objects. You’re still the only person I trust to make it happen.”

Y/n reached for her notebook. “Alright, tell me what you’re thinking.”

The two spent the next hour brainstorming ideas, Y/n sketching as Ochako animatedly explained her vision. The conversation flowed naturally, shifting from hero gear to casual gossip. Ochako filled Y/n in on funny stories from her hero work, tales of Deku’s overworking tendencies, and updates on Eri’s progress.

“Deku’s been running himself ragged,” Ochako said, shaking her head. “I swear, he doesn’t know the meaning of taking a break. But, honestly? I think he’s really excited about you meeting Bakugo today. He thinks it’s going to work out great.”

Y/n rolled her eyes. “Of course he does. He’s been hyping it up all week.”

“Maybe he’s right,” Ochako said with a grin. “I mean, if anyone can get Bakugo to chill for five minutes, it’s probably you.”

"Bakugo Katsuki," she muttered to herself, placing a few prototype sketches into a drawer. She couldn’t help but wonder how today would go. Izuku had said he was intense—and that was putting it lightly. From what she’d seen on TV, Bakugo was all bark and plenty of bite.

Her gaze drifted to the clock hanging on the wall. It was only 9:00 a.m., but she knew better than to waste any time. Kirishima would likely arrive on time, cheerful and eager, but Bakugo? She wasn’t sure what to expect.

Y/n tied her hair back into a practical ponytail, pushing aside a few stray strands from her face as she surveyed the area. Red Riot’s completed gear sat neatly on the workbench, polished and ready for pickup, but she’d made sure to clear enough space for the two new arrivals.

Y/n leaned over her notebook, pencil tapping against her lip as she processed Ochako’s description of the boots. The shop was warm and cozy, filled with the faint scent of melted wax from the candles she’d lit earlier. The soft glow from the lights strung around the shop framed the room in hues of gold and green. On the workbench beside her were scattered screws, bolts, and bits of leftover red material from Red Riot’s gear.

Outside, the muffled sound of laughter and caroling drifted in from the street. Y/n glanced briefly toward the frosted window, catching the sight of bundled-up children tugging sleds and shopkeepers arranging garlands on their doors. It was a peaceful scene, contrasting the chaos she usually worked in during December.

Ochako shifted in her chair, her finger tracing over one of Y/n’s sketches. “I love how you add so much detail to everything. Like this,” she said, pointing to a design for a stabilizing mechanism. “It’s stuff no one else would think of, but it always makes the gear feel...I don’t know, personal.”

Y/n smiled faintly, her fingers brushing the edge of her notebook. “That’s kind of the goal. Hero work is personal. Everyone fights differently, so their gear should match. Plus, I guess I’m a bit of a perfectionist.”

“A bit?” Ochako teased, raising an eyebrow.

Y/n chuckled, tossing her pencil onto the bench. “Alright, maybe more than a bit. But it’s worth it when the heroes tell me the difference it makes. That’s what I care about.”

Her gaze drifted to the shelf above her workbench, where a collection of thank-you notes and small trinkets from various heroes were displayed. Among them was a tiny, hand-carved figure of a bear from Eri, a framed sketch of her first design from Deku, and a polished silver medal from Red Riot for her work on his early gear.

Ochako followed her gaze and smiled. “You know, if you ever decided to take a break from the workshop, you’d probably be swarmed with invitations to dinner from all your clients. They love you.”

Y/n snorted, leaning back in her chair. “Dinner sounds nice, but you know me. I’d probably end up sketching designs on the tablecloth instead of eating.”

The two laughed, and Y/n reached for her coffee mug, grimacing when she realized it had gone cold. She set it aside and stood, stretching her arms above her head. Her thoughts wandered to the afternoon ahead.

“I can’t believe I let Deku talk me into meeting Bakugo,” she muttered, running a hand through her hair. “It’s not that I’m nervous or anything—it’s just...he’s a lot.”

Ochako tilted her head, studying Y/n. “You’re overthinking it. Just treat him like any other client. If he gets out of line, well, you’re Y/n L/n. You can handle him.”

Y/n sighed, her lips quirking into a wry smile. “Yeah, I guess so. But it’s hard to ignore the whole ‘walking explosion’ thing. Deku talks about him like he’s a bomb waiting to go off.”

Ochako laughed. “That’s not far off. But he’s got a good side too. You’ll see. Just...maybe keep anything flammable out of reach.”

Y/n smirked and shook her head, glancing at the clock. It was nearing 11:00 a.m., which meant she had about an hour before Bakugo and Red Riot arrived.

Ochako must have noticed her glance because she stood, pulling on her gloves. “Alright, I’ll let you get back to work. But you’ll have to tell me everything later. I want details about this meeting.”

Y/n rolled her eyes but grinned. “Sure, sure. Just don’t expect anything dramatic.”

As Ochako wrapped her scarf around her neck, Y/n walked her to the door. The bell jingled as Ochako stepped outside into the snow-covered street. She turned back, giving Y/n a quick wave before disappearing into the bustling crowd.

Y/n lingered by the door for a moment, watching as the world outside came alive with the vibrant energy of the season. She could hear the faint strains of a holiday tune playing from a nearby speaker, blending with the chatter of people exchanging greetings and the clatter of footsteps on icy cobblestones.

Her thoughts returned to Bakugo. Despite Ochako’s reassurances, she couldn’t help but feel a flicker of apprehension. She had worked with all kinds of personalities in the past, but something about this meeting felt different. Maybe it was the way Deku had insisted on it, or the fact that Bakugo had gone through multiple gear designers before coming to her.

Y/n shook her head, brushing the thoughts aside. She had work to do. Grabbing her notebook, she made her way back to the bench, tidying up the scattered tools and clearing space for the upcoming meeting. As she worked, the nervous energy slowly faded, replaced by the familiar rhythm of her routine.

As Y/n rose from her seat in the cafe, the rich scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries surrounded her. She approached the counter, handing the barista a few bills as she ordered a to-go cup of their signature roast. The barista smiled warmly, quickly preparing her drink and sliding the cup across the counter. Y/n grasped it, the warmth of the coffee seeping through the cardboard sleeve into her fingers.

Pushing open the door, the bell jingled softly, and the chill of the outside air greeted her. She adjusted her scarf, the faint aroma of cinnamon and evergreen lingering in the air. The festive decorations glinted in the morning light—the strings of red and green fairy lights twinkling above her, and wreaths adorning shop doors.

The town square sprawled out ahead of her as she walked back toward her workshop. Cobblestones dusted with snow crunched beneath her boots, and the chatter of townsfolk filled the air. At the center of the square stood the massive Christmas tree, towering and majestic, its branches adorned with golden ribbons, sparkling baubles, and delicate ornaments. A small train of children circled the tree, their laughter echoing as they admired its grandeur.

Nearby, a group of carolers huddled together, their harmonious voices carrying through the square. The melodies of “Jingle Bells” floated around Y/n as she walked past, the sound blending with the jingling of bells and occasional calls from vendors selling roasted chestnuts and warm cider.

She paused for a moment by the tree, taking in the scene. The way the snow clung to the branches of the tree and rooftops reminded her why she loved this little corner of town so much. It was serene yet alive, a perfect balance that fueled her creativity.

Clutching her coffee tightly, Y/n resumed her walk. Her workshop came into view, the frosted windows glowing warmly from the light inside. She unlocked the door and stepped into the familiar space, the comforting smell of oil and metal greeting her like an old friend.

Once inside, she set her coffee on the desk and got back to work.

Back in her workshop, Y/n settled into her desk chair, pulling her laptop closer. Her coffee sat steaming beside her, untouched as she opened the secure portal provided by the Hero Commission. Only certified hero gear designers had access to these files, which included in-depth analyses of quirks, combat footage, and notes from heroes themselves about their gear. She typed in the credentials Deku had shared with her yesterday for Bakugo Katsuki’s profile and pressed enter.

The screen filled with detailed reports. Her eyes skimmed the initial overview:

Hero Name: Dynamight

Quirk: Explosion

Mechanics: Sweats a nitroglycerin-like substance from his palms, igniting it to create explosions of varying intensity.

She clicked on a section titled Combat Footage. Clips began to play, showcasing Bakugo in action. His movements were ferocious, fast, and precise, but chaotic at the same time. He used his explosions for propulsion, blasting himself across the battlefield with remarkable speed. She noticed how he used his gauntlets to channel and store excess sweat, firing concentrated blasts when needed.

“Smart,” she murmured to herself, watching as he obliterated a massive stone wall during a training session. “But there’s room for improvement.”

She paused the footage and leaned back, her mind already racing with ideas. The gauntlets he currently used were bulky and seemed to weigh him down during long battles. While their storage capacity for his sweat was impressive, they lacked flexibility. She also noticed that Bakugo occasionally flinched after firing larger blasts, likely from the force reverberating through his arms.

Opening another file, she studied the blueprints of his existing hero gear. The gauntlets were made of a reinforced alloy that could withstand high temperatures, but they didn’t seem optimized for maneuverability. Bakugo’s quirk relied heavily on his speed and agility; he needed something that complemented those traits.

Y/n began sketching on a piece of graph paper, her pencil moving swiftly across the page.

She started writing down some plans.

Improvments to old design-

Lightweight Material: Replace the alloy with a cutting-edge, heat-resistant carbon fiber. This would significantly reduce the weight without compromising durability.

Dynamic Storage Chambers: Instead of one large storage unit, she envisioned several smaller, modular chambers integrated into the gauntlets. These would allow Bakugo to regulate the release of his sweat more efficiently, offering him better control during prolonged battles.

Shock Absorption System: She planned to line the interior with a gel-based material that could absorb and distribute the impact from larger blasts, minimizing strain on his arms.

Adaptive Fit: She wanted to incorporate an adjustable mechanism that would allow the gauntlets to mold to his arms, ensuring maximum comfort and reducing unnecessary movement.

Integrated HUD: Though Bakugo didn’t seem like the type to rely on tech too much, Y/n considered adding a small, retractable heads-up display to one gauntlet. It could provide him with real-time data about the gauntlet’s sweat levels and temperature.

She returned to the combat footage, replaying a moment where Bakugo propelled himself upward, firing rapid explosions from his palms. His movement was seamless, but she noticed how his gauntlets dragged slightly when he twisted mid-air.

“He’s compensating for their weight,” she muttered. “If I can make them lighter, his precision will improve.”

The reports also detailed Bakugo’s tolerance to his own explosions. His hands could withstand immense heat, but prolonged use led to redness and swelling. Y/n jotted down a note to include a cooling mechanism in the lining—perhaps something that could release a soothing mist after heavy use.

Her thoughts turned to the design itself. She wanted the gauntlets to look intimidating, matching Bakugo’s explosive personality. She sketched a sleek, angular design with sharp edges, the carbon fiber glinting in her imagination like obsidian. She added a small insignia resembling an explosion near the wrist—subtle, but fitting.

By the time she looked up from her sketches, it had already become noon. Her coffee was cold, and her shoulders ached from leaning over her desk. But she smiled, satisfied with the rough blueprint in front of her.

"Let’s see how he likes it," she thought, rolling her neck as she glanced at the clock. She felt ready to meet Bakugo and see if her vision for his gear aligned with his. For someone as demanding as Dynamight, she knew this was just the beginning.

As she leaned back to admire her sketches, the shrill ring of her phone broke her concentration. She grabbed it off the desk, her eyes lighting up when she saw the name flashing on the screen: Kirishima.

"Hey, Red Riot," she answered, still catching her breath from her brainstorming session.

“Y/n! Hey! Sorry to bother you,” Kirishima’s cheerful voice came through, loud and bright as ever. “I just wanted to check in about the gear. Bakugo told me you’re working on some designs for him, too. We were thinking, uh—maybe we could just come by together to pick mine up and talk about his?”

Y/n smiled, leaning back in her chair. “Yeah, that works. I just finished up your gear, actually. Your timing is impeccable.”

“Sweet! I’m excited to see it,” Kirishima said, his voice laced with enthusiasm. “What time works for you? I know you told me yesterday but ive been so busy”

“Noon. You guys can swing by then,” Y/n said, glancing at her sketches of Bakugo’s gauntlets. “It’ll give me time to prep for whatever nitpicky feedback Dynamight’s going to throw my way.”

Kirishima laughed. “Yeah, he’s got... opinions. But don’t worry, I’ll keep him in check.”

“Thanks, Eijiro. I’ll see you both at noon, then,” she said, ending the call with a smile.

As she set her phone down, Y/n took a moment to collect her thoughts. Bakugo Katsuki and Eijiro Kirishima—two of Japan’s most notable heroes—were about to walk into her workshop. It was a mix of excitement and nervousness, but she was ready. Or at least, she hoped she was. She had famous heroes stop by a couple of times, but these were heroes that her friends were close to. So it felt somewhat different.

The call with Kirishima basically said "were on our way now" so she hopped up from her chair.

Y/n set her phone down and glanced around her workshop. While it wasn’t a complete mess, it certainly wasn’t in pristine condition. Scraps of metal, blueprints, and tools cluttered her workbench, and a light dusting of sawdust coated the floor near the storage shelves. She rolled up her sleeves, ready to tidy up before her guests arrived.

She began by organizing her tools, placing wrenches, screwdrivers, and hammers back into their designated spots on the wall-mounted pegboard. The sound of metal clinking softly filled the room as she worked. Next, she gathered the scattered blueprints and stacked them neatly on her desk, making sure to tuck away anything unrelated to Bakugo or Kirishima’s projects.

As she worked, the faint aroma of coffee from her earlier cup lingered in the air, mixing with the metallic scent of her workshop. She grabbed a broom from the corner and swept up the sawdust and stray screws that had somehow made their way to the floor. Despite the hustle, her thoughts drifted to the upcoming meeting.

Y/n was used to dealing with pro heroes—her work attracted them, after all—but there was something different about this one. Maybe it was the way Midoriya had talked about Bakugo, the fiery personality he’d described in vivid detail. Or maybe it was the fact that she’d never worked with someone quite as infamous for their temper.

She finished tidying up the workbench and glanced at the clock. It was 11:50. Ten minutes. She sighed and leaned back against the counter, finally noticing her reflection in the window. Her black long-sleeve shirt, snug against her figure, and loose black sweatpants weren’t exactly what she’d consider meeting-hero clients attire.

But it was too late to change now. Besides, she figured comfort trumped style in her line of work. With that thought, she took a deep breath, grabbed the finished gear she’d prepared for Kirishima, and placed them carefully on the workbench.

The small bell above her door jingled, signaling their arrival. Y/n turned to see two towering figures entering her shop. Kirishima, his spiky red hair as vibrant as ever, stepped in first, his broad smile lighting up the room. Right behind him was Bakugo Katsuki, his ash-blond hair messy in a way that seemed deliberate, his sharp red eyes scanning the workshop.

“Yo, Y/n!” Kirishima greeted enthusiastically, brushing a few snowflakes off his jacket. “Thanks for letting us come by together.”

Bakugo, on the other hand, stayed silent, his gaze shifting around the room. His eyes lingered on the intricate tools and designs scattered about, and he crossed his arms as if he were already evaluating the place.

“Hey, Eijiro. And… you must be Dynamight,” Y/n said, offering a polite smile. “Come on in.”

“Yeah,” Bakugo muttered, stepping further into the room. His presence was intimidating, but Y/n held her ground. She motioned for them to follow her toward the workbench, ready to dive into what she hoped would be a productive meeting.

Y/n led Kirishima and Bakugo toward her workbench, where the gloves and arm strains she’d designed for Kirishima were displayed. She grabbed a sheet of paper from the edge of the desk and handed it to Kirishima with a small smile.

“These are the details for your new gear,” she explained, pointing to the carefully organized list of features. “I focused on making them lighter without compromising their durability. I used material that will channel your speed and shock-absorbent, so they’ll hold up better during prolonged battles or harsher environments. The adjustments should also help you maintain your stamina.”

Kirishima scanned the paper with a bright grin, his red eyes lighting up as he nodded enthusiastically. “This is amazing, Y/n! You always outdo yourself.” He lifted one of the gauntlets, inspecting its craftsmanship. “The detail is insane. You’re a lifesaver.”

Y/n shrugged modestly, but the praise made her lips quirk up slightly. “I know how important durability and flexibility are for you. If there’s anything that feels off when you’re testing it out, let me know, and I’ll tweak it.”

“You got it,” Kirishima said, carefully placing the items into his gear bag. He glanced at Bakugo, who was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, silently observing. “Alright, I’ll get out of your hair. I’ll see you later, Katsuki.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bakugo muttered, waving Kirishima off without looking at him. Kirishima paid in advance, he already knew you would give him the results he needed.

Kirishima laughed and shot Y/n a thumbs-up before heading for the door. The bell jingled softly as he left, leaving the shop in silence.

Y/n turned to Bakugo, brushing her hands on her sweatpants before grabbing a set of blueprints from the workbench. She held them out to him, her posture calm but her mind racing slightly as she waited to gauge his reaction.

“Here’s what I came up with,” she said. “It’s a rough idea based on the videos I watched of you in action and the research I did on your quirk and current gear. Let me know what you think.”

Bakugo took the blueprints without a word, his expression unreadable as his sharp red eyes scanned the designs. The silence stretched on, filled only by the faint hum of the workshop lights.

Y/n resisted the urge to fidget, instead leaning back slightly against the workbench, watching his reaction carefully. She had dealt with stoic heroes before, but there was something about Bakugo’s intensity that made the silence feel heavier.

After a moment, he spoke, his voice low but firm. “You actually looked into my quirk for this?”

“Of course,” Y/n replied simply. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to create something functional. The modifications I proposed here,” she leaned forward, pointing to the blueprint, “will improve the efficiency of your gauntlets, letting you channel smaller, controlled explosions when needed without sacrificing power output for the larger ones. I also added heat dispersal channels to reduce strain during prolonged battles.”

Bakugo nodded slightly, his gaze still fixed on the paper. “Hatsume never put this much thought into it,” he muttered almost to himself, his tone lacking its usual edge.

Y/n raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. Instead, she crossed her arms and waited for him to continue.

“This isn’t bad,” Bakugo finally admitted, glancing up at her. “Not bad at all.” It was fucking perfect, he had to resist the urge to grin like a maniac. He would become unstoppable with this, he already had so many images in his mind of how he could use this to become better.

“High praise coming from you, Dynamight,” Y/n replied, her tone light but her lips twitching into a faint smirk.

“Tch. Don’t get cocky,” he grumbled, though his expression didn’t carry the usual bite. He folded the blueprint carefully and tucked it under his arm. “When do you think you can have a prototype ready?”

“Depends,” Y/n said, already mentally calculating the timeline. “If you’re serious about this, I’ll need to do some fittings and tests with you first. No point in making a prototype that doesn’t work for you.”

Bakugo nodded again, his intense gaze meeting hers. “Fine. Just don’t waste my time.”

“I don’t plan to,” she replied evenly, her eyes unwavering.

For a moment, they stared at each other. Then Bakugo straightened, adjusting his stance.

“Alright. When do we start?”

Y/n stood in front of Bakugo, her fingers brushing through the air as she explained the materials she would need to get started on his gauntlet prototype. She moved fluidly, her hands gesturing as she spoke, outlining the complexity of the design in a way that was second nature to her.

“Alright, first things first,” she said, her tone clear and focused. “I’ll need a specialized alloy—something lightweight but durable enough to handle the heat and shock from your explosions. That’s about $2,000 just for the raw materials. I’ll also need heat-dispersal channels to manage the thermal output from your quirk, which will run around $1,200.”

As she spoke, she walked around the workshop, gathering scattered tools and a few reference materials, as though illustrating her thoughts in the space around her. She then turned, meeting Bakugo’s gaze, and continued, “I’ll need an explosion-containment lining inside the gauntlets to handle the shockwaves. That’ll be another $1,000. Plus, there’s the electronics—the trigger mechanisms, the sensors to make sure everything is responsive and reliable, that’ll cost about $800.”

Bakugo stood silently, arms crossed over his chest, his gaze sharp as he watched her explain, his lips twitching slightly, though he didn’t interrupt.

“I’ll also need to account for testing materials, because, you know, things don’t always work out perfectly on the first try. That’s another $500. And, of course, using CNC machines for precision cutting and the 3D printer to create components will be another $2,000.” She paused, taking a breath. “I’ll need time to do all this, so we’re looking at about $2,500 for labor and overhead costs. And since I’ll need to use some special hero commission materials, we’re looking at an additional $500 there.”

She looked at him then, raising an eyebrow, giving him a moment to absorb the numbers before adding, “So, all in all, we’re talking about $11,500 to get a full prototype ready.”

Bakugo didn’t flinch, but there was a noticeable tension in his jaw as he heard the cost. He reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a thick stack of cash, his fingers tightening around the bills. He didn’t say a word—just grunted low in his throat and handed it over to her.

Y/n took the money, not at all surprised by his blunt approach, but she couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the stack in her hands. “Not a word, huh?”

Bakugo shrugged, looking away. “I’m not here to waste time. Get it done.”

She glanced down at the cash, counting it quickly, before nodding. “Alright. I’ll get started immediately. I’ll let you know if I need anything else.”

He turned to leave, not offering much more than a sharp “Good,” as he headed toward the door.

“Hey, Bakugo,” Y/n called out just before he reached the threshold.

He stopped, half-turning toward her with a raised eyebrow.

“If this works out the way I think it will, you won’t regret it,” she said, her voice steady, though there was a hint of amusement in her eyes.

Bakugo just grunted in response and left without another word, the door jingling as he exited. Y/n stood there for a moment, glancing at the cash in her hand before putting it into her desk drawer.

“Guess it’s time to get to work,” she muttered to herself, already thinking about the next steps in the process, the quiet hum of her workshop filling the space once again.

The quiet of the workshop was comforting. The hum of the machines, the occasional clink of tools, and the soft buzz of her thoughts as Y/n set to work on Bakugo's gauntlets. The pressure to deliver something extraordinary didn’t faze her. She thrived under it, and the $11,500 in her desk drawer now felt like fuel rather than a burden.

She started by laying the groundwork—the design, the blueprint she’d handed Bakugo, now spread out before her on the workbench. She had every intention of refining it, fine-tuning it as she went, but this was her starting point. The key was precision. Each detail mattered. Bakugo’s gauntlets had to reflect both the raw power of his quirk and the controlled precision he needed to prevent injury from the sheer force he wielded.

First, she focused on the gauntlet structure itself—the base. She reached for a few sheets of the alloy material, noting the color and texture as she ran her fingers across it. It was lightweight but strong, the kind of metal that would absorb the shockwave from his explosions without crumbling under pressure. As she sliced through it with a laser cutter, her mind raced ahead to the next steps. The gauntlets would need cooling channels to handle the heat from the constant explosions.

She pulled out the high-tech filaments that would make up the internal cooling systems, cutting thin strips to fit the gauntlet’s curves. There was a certain satisfaction in working with these materials—each one felt like a perfect fit, much like a puzzle that, once complete, would give Bakugo the edge he needed in battle. As she worked, she couldn’t help but think back on their first encounter. Despite his rough exterior, there was something about the way he carried himself that made her think he was capable of collaboration, not just stubbornness. It gave her a glimmer of hope that this partnership might turn out better than she originally expected.

She worked with a focused intensity, hands moving fluidly as she welded the cooling channels into place, ensuring they were secure and precise. The internal circuitry was just as important as the outer materials. She carefully designed the wiring that would run through the gauntlets, making sure the feedback sensors would respond to Bakugo’s movements, allowing for immediate adjustments. She cut out the small compartments for the sensors, ensuring they were compact enough not to add unnecessary weight but sophisticated enough to be effective.

As the hours slipped away, the rhythm of her work kept her grounded. The afternoon light outside started to fade, the snow beginning to accumulate once again on the windowsill, but inside, the workshop remained bright with overhead lights, the glowing edges of her work casting soft shadows against the walls. The smell of burning metal and fresh components filled the air, an aroma Y/n was more than familiar with, a scent that meant progress.

With each weld, each adjustment, she grew more certain this project would be one of her best yet. It was a good feeling, one that had been absent for a while. Y/n had worked with dozens of pro heroes, each with their own quirks, each with their own needs, but Bakugo’s gauntlets felt different. They felt important, like this was more than just another paycheck or another job to tick off. She could see the potential in him. The gauntlets weren’t just about power—they were about refining that power, helping Bakugo control it better. That made the task feel personal in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

She glanced over at the clock—almost six hours had passed since she started. She hadn’t even realized it was so late. She stopped for a moment, wiping her brow with the back of her hand, leaving a smear of grease across her face. She didn’t mind; it was part of the process.

The prototype was beginning to take shape. The metal frame of the gauntlets had been fully assembled, the internal components locked into place. The cooling system was in the final stages, and the wiring was nearly complete. She reached for the finishing touches—smoothly applying the final protective layers and ensuring the heat dispersion technology would function at peak efficiency.

As she worked, she thought back to Bakugo. He was more than just a short-tempered, explosion-happy hero—there was something beneath all that. She hadn’t seen the worst of him yet, but she could tell he had a purpose in mind, and she had a feeling he wasn’t as difficult to work with as Deku had painted him to be.

“Not as bad as you thought, huh?” she whispered to herself with a small smile, placing the gauntlet down carefully and surveying her work.

It was then that she realized—she could see herself working with him again in the future. The complexity of the project was rewarding, but there was also something satisfying about bringing a design to life that was uniquely tailored to a person. She had no doubt that Bakugo would be back once this was done.

Taking a step back, Y/n let out a breath, allowing herself a moment of pause before she started to put everything away for the night. The gauntlets were almost ready for testing, and soon, she would have to hand them over. She couldn’t help but wonder what his reaction would be. Would he appreciate the care she’d taken? Would he be surprised by how much effort she’d put into understanding his needs, his quirks?

A small, satisfied smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She was eager to see.

Y/n took a step back from her workbench, eyes scanning over the gauntlets one last time. The prototype was finished and ready for Bakugo’s approval. She wiped her hands on a rag, then reached for her phone on the desk. The quiet of the workshop was now only punctuated by the soft clicks of her fingers on the screen as she typed.

She could feel a certain tension as she composed the message, not because she doubted her work, but because it felt like the final step—she was finally about to send Bakugo the results of all her hard work.

Hey, Bakugo. The prototype is ready. I’ve tested the cooling system and the wiring, and it should be good to go. Come by tomorrow around noon to test it out and let me know if you need any adjustments. If you like it, we’ll talk about the next phase of the project—creating the real thing. Let me know. Y/n

She hovered her thumb over the send button for a moment before quickly tapping it.

Setting the phone down, Y/n moved to check the clock again—it was already getting late, but a feeling of accomplishment made it hard to relax. With the message sent, her mind started to wander through the possibilities of tomorrow. Bakugo’s reaction, the adjustments he might ask for, the pressure of making sure the prototype met all his expectations. She had a sense that Bakugo would be… difficult, but it was a good challenge. She knew the stakes of the job now, and it would be worth every bit of effort.

She tidied up around the workshop, organizing her tools and putting away the leftover materials. The place was filled with the faint, lingering smell of metalwork and machine oil. She had managed to create a perfect, functional prototype, but there was still more work to be done once Bakugo gave his final feedback. She hoped it would be a good test.

After everything was cleaned up, she grabbed a quick drink from the fridge and sat back down at her desk, still buzzing with excitement over the gauntlets. It would be a busy day tomorrow.

The evening passed in a warm, easy rhythm, with Eri's giggles and stories filling the shop as the two of them shared snacks and swapped small talk. The cozy hum of the heater in the corner of the shop provided a comforting background as the wind outside howled softly against the windows, and the dim glow from the overhead lights cast a gentle ambiance over the room. They spent hours talking about everything from school to the heroes Eri admired, to stories Y/n told about the latest projects she was working on. There was a sense of calm, of contentment in the air, as they sank into the moment.

After the movie ended, and Y/n made sure Eri was comfortable on the couch with a blanket, the young girl sat up suddenly, her bright eyes wide with curiosity. "Y/n..." she began, her voice tentative yet full of hope. "Can you teach me something small? I want to learn how you make all your amazing gear. I know I'm still young, but... I think it would be really cool to know even a little bit about it. Please?"

Y/n paused for a moment, surprised by the request, but there was a warmth in Eri’s face, a genuine desire to learn. She couldn’t say no. With a soft smile, Y/n nodded, a small chuckle escaping her lips. "Alright, but only something small. You're still getting the hang of all this stuff."

Eri bounced on her feet, grinning ear to ear as she followed Y/n down the stairs. The dimly lit shop seemed even more peaceful in the late hours, the lights from the upstairs hallway casting long shadows as Y/n moved toward the storage room. She reached for the doorknob, pulling open the heavy door to reveal shelves lined with tools, boxes of wires, metal pieces, and components that had been used in countless projects.

Eri stepped inside, her eyes gleaming as she looked around the room, taking in everything. The air smelled faintly of oil and metal, a scent Y/n had grown so familiar with over the years, but to Eri, it was like stepping into another world. Everything looked so complicated, yet so exciting.

Y/n motioned for Eri to sit down on the floor with her, and they both crossed their legs. Y/n set a small project in front of them: a simple gear mechanism that needed to be assembled. It was basic, just a few pieces to put together, but it was the perfect place to start. She handed Eri a wrench and a few screws. "Okay," she began, "this is a basic gear system. It’s what I use in some of the prototypes when I need to test how things move and interact. All you need to do is line up the gears and use the wrench to tighten them into place. It's simple but precise work."

Eri’s hands shook slightly as she took the pieces, her fingers not quite sure where to begin. Y/n smiled, her voice soft and encouraging. "It's okay, take your time. Start with this piece here," she said, pointing to the largest gear. "Line it up like this..." Y/n moved her hand gently over Eri’s, guiding her fingers into position. "Now, tighten the screws just like this."

The warmth from the lamp beside them made everything feel intimate, almost like a private moment between them, a scene pulled straight out of a quiet film. The only sound was the soft clink of metal, the faint hum of the heater, and Eri's soft breaths of concentration. Y/n sat next to her on the floor, her legs crossed, her hands resting lightly on her knees, watching Eri carefully. There was a quiet intensity to it, the girl’s determination clear in every small movement, every furrow of her brow as she tried to understand the mechanics of what she was building.

Y/n didn’t rush her, watching as Eri carefully placed the pieces together, her movements tentative at first, but growing more confident with each small success. There were moments of frustration, the pieces not fitting correctly or the gears not clicking into place, but each time Eri made a mistake, Y/n gently guided her back on track, explaining things in simple terms.

"That’s okay, just try again," Y/n said, her voice gentle, guiding her through the small mess-ups. "You’ll get it. It’s all about patience."

Eri nodded eagerly, her face flushed with the small victories. Slowly, as the pieces began to fall into place, her confidence grew, and the gears clicked together perfectly. Eri looked up at Y/n with a proud grin. "I did it! Look!" she said, holding up the small gear mechanism, now fully assembled.

Y/n smiled softly, her heart swelling with pride at how far Eri had come in just a short amount of time. "You did great," she said warmly. "Just remember, it’s all about taking your time and staying patient."

Eri’s face lit up with excitement, but she looked down at the gear she had made, her hands still trembling with the energy of the moment. "I’m going to be like you one day, Y/n. I swear."

Y/n chuckled softly, ruffling Eri’s hair affectionately. "You’re already on your way, Eri. Just keep practicing. I'll send you home with some basic stuff tomorrow. "

With the small project finished, they stood up together and began making their way back upstairs. The whole atmosphere in the shop felt like it had slowed down, as though the world outside had paused to watch them. Eri was still buzzing with excitement, talking about everything she had learned and asking more questions about gears and her future as a hero.

When they finally reached the bed, Y/n set up the blankets and pillows for a comfortable spot to settle in. Eri quickly curled up under the warm covers, her eyes growing heavy as she settled next to Y/n. They started another movie, but soon the quiet of the evening and the gentle glow of the screen lulled them both into a peaceful silence.

Y/n smiled softly as she glanced over at Eri, her heart full. This moment, this simple night, felt like a memory she would keep forever. Something that would be etched into her mind like the soft hum of gears spinning—steady, constant, and full of promise for the future. Maybe because Y/n had always wanted a daughter, even if Eri wasn't close enough to be considered one. Moments like these filled her heart.

---

The morning sun was just starting to peek through the blinds when Y/n heard the soft shuffle of Eri’s footsteps coming down the stairs. It was still early, but the excitement of a new day had already worked its way into the young girl’s energy. Y/n had already been awake, preparing a cup of coffee in the kitchen as she checked her phone.

Eri came into the kitchen, her backpack slung over one shoulder, looking much more grown-up than she had when she first arrived at Y/n’s place. Her hair was neatly combed, her uniform crisp, and she had a bright, eager smile that made Y/n’s heart flutter with affection.

"Morning!" Eri chirped, the cheerfulness in her voice making the space feel warmer.

"Morning," Y/n replied, setting the mug down on the counter. She turned to look at Eri, who was practically vibrating with excitement. "Ready for school?"

Eri nodded, biting her lip as she glanced around, as though trying to make sure she hadn’t left anything behind. "I really appreciate you letting me stay over. It was so fun! And thank you for teaching me that stuff last night." Her voice dropped a little shyly as she thought back to their time in the workshop.

Y/n smiled softly. “Anytime, Eri. You did great last night. I’m sure you’ll be building your own stuff in no time.”

Eri beamed, her eyes sparkling. "You really think so?"

Y/n chuckled. "I know so."

Eri rushed over and gave Y/n a quick hug, surprising her for a moment. The younger girl was often reserved, but moments like this made Y/n’s heart ache with tenderness.

"Well," Eri said, pulling back and adjusting her backpack, "I’ll see you later! I’ll tell Shota you said hi!"

"Take care, and have a good day at school," Y/n called after her as Eri darted out the door, the sound of the bell ringing lightly behind her as she ran to catch up with her classmates.

Y/n watched her go for a moment before sighing contentedly, the house feeling quieter again. She loved having Eri around, but it was always bittersweet when she left for the day, like a little piece of happiness walked out with her.

With Eri now off to school, Y/n returned to the workshop, gathering her focus for the day ahead. She took a moment to mentally prepare herself for the upcoming meeting with Bakugo. It was only a few hours away, but she was ready. There was a quiet sense of satisfaction that came with seeing his prototype work so well the day before, and now it was time to fine-tune things.

She double-checked her tools, made sure the prototype gauntlets were in good condition, and organized the materials she would need to adjust the interior pressure system. She also took a few moments to tidy up the workspace—while Y/n was normally meticulous about cleanliness, the chaos that was her work sometimes bled into her space. Today, she wanted everything to be just right. The energy she’d had the day before had stayed with her as she worked, and it felt like the right moment to move forward.

As she adjusted a few parts on her workbench, she found herself lost in her thoughts. The previous day with Bakugo had gone better than expected. He was still prickly, still the same explosive person she’d heard about from Izuku, but his reaction to the prototype—his feedback—made her feel like they were building a connection. Not a personal one, but a professional one, and that was enough for now.

She was starting to see the bigger picture: her designs could impact heroes like him. And if everything went as planned, this was just the beginning of a long-term working relationship.

-

The doorbell jingled, and Y/n snapped out of her thoughts. She glanced toward the door, a moment of anticipation building in her chest. Bakugo was here.

She walked over to the door to greet him, the sound of his boots clicking on the floor growing louder as he stepped inside. He looked just as intense as he did the day before, but this time there was a calmness in his demeanor that Y/n noticed immediately. The gauntlets from the previous day were now strapped to his wrists, and he was clearly ready to see how the prototype held up in a more demanding test.

Y/n smiled, but it was a more neutral smile this time—professional, not personal. "Morning, Bakugo. Ready to test the adjustments?"

He didn’t answer right away, but his eyes scanned the workshop briefly. She saw him make a mental note of the setup, maybe trying to figure out if she had done anything else to impress him.

“Let’s get to it,” Bakugo muttered, sounding a little less gruff than usual but still direct.

Y/n nodded, gesturing to the workbench where the adjustments to the gauntlets were laid out, ready for testing. "I made some minor tweaks to the interior pressure system, like we discussed. Try them on and see how they feel."

Bakugo grunted in acknowledgment as he moved toward the bench, looking over the gauntlets with a critical eye. His fingers skimmed over the components, clearly assessing them.

"Don’t overdo it,” Y/n warned, noticing his intense scrutiny of the design. “Take it slow at first, just let me know if anything feels off.”

Bakugo huffed but didn’t argue, slipping the gauntlets back on. Y/n moved a few steps back, watching closely as he tested the movements. His first action was a simple flex of his fingers—just like the day before—but this time, Y/n could see the difference. He was more attuned to the gear, more aware of the way it responded to his quirk.

He extended his arms, testing the weight distribution. His posture was strong, his body coiled with the kind of power that came naturally to someone like him. Y/n watched for signs of discomfort—anything that could signal a flaw in the design.

"So?" she asked, her voice a little quieter now, as she waited for his verdict.

Bakugo remained silent for a moment, lost in the rhythm of his own testing. Finally, he looked up from his hands, locking eyes with Y/n.

“It’s better,” he said simply. “More flexible. I can work with this.”

Y/n nodded, feeling a wave of relief and quiet satisfaction wash over her. “Good. There are still a couple of minor adjustments to make, but this is a solid base to build on.”

Bakugo grunted, as if admitting something he didn’t quite want to, then turned to walk out.

“Let me know when you’re ready to finalize it,” he muttered over his shoulder before the door closed behind him with a loud jingle.

Y/n stood there for a moment, her heart racing with excitement. This wasn’t just a success; it was the beginning of something.

---

December 5th,

For three days, Y/n threw herself into Bakugo’s gauntlets with a level of focus that was both intense and consuming. The clock seemed irrelevant. Hours bled together as she carefully assembled, welded, and tested each individual part. The gauntlets weren’t just about performance; they were about precision, efficiency, and fitting Bakugo’s chaotic, explosive style of combat. She hadn’t even noticed how much time passed between bathroom breaks and the occasional text from neighbors or Izuku.

She had gotten used to working long hours, skipping meals, and letting her body run on caffeine and the occasional snack that she barely tasted. Her stomach had long since become accustomed to hunger pangs, a dull throb in the background of her mind as she focused on the minute details of the gauntlets. Every screw, every part, every piece of the technology she worked on had to be perfect. Not for her own benefit, but because Bakugo deserved it, whether he realized it or not. She couldn't afford to make mistakes with someone like him.

Her shop was a chaotic but well-organized mess. Tools were scattered across the floor, some forgotten and others deliberately placed for quick access. The only light came from the overhead bulbs, which cast long, harsh shadows on the walls as the night passed. The low hum of the machines was the only sound she heard as she moved, her hands shaking slightly with exhaustion.

She had taken the occasional break to step outside, her breath fogging up in the winter air, and to receive a text or two from Izuku—always checking in, always asking if she was okay. She hadn’t wanted to admit to him how far she’d gone without eating. But Izuku was kind and persistent, and sometimes his texts felt like a lifeline amidst the whirlpool of her work.

The gauntlets were finally coming together, but Y/n couldn’t help but feel both proud and incredibly drained. Her body screamed for rest, and yet, she couldn’t stop. Not yet.

...

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the gauntlets were done. She stepped back, wiping grease and oil from her face with the back of her hand, inspecting the finished product. The sleek black and orange design gleamed under the light, the inner mechanisms already adjusted for Bakugo's quirk. The gauntlets had a custom-made feedback system built into them, amplifying the force of his explosions but distributing the recoil so it wouldn’t damage his limbs.

Y/n’s eyes were blurry from lack of sleep, but her heart swelled with a quiet pride. These gauntlets weren’t just equipment; they were an extension of Bakugo’s fury and power, honed down to a level of sophistication she didn’t think anyone else could pull off. She couldn’t help but think—Bakugo was going to love these. She wasn't just assuming he would, she knew it. She had seen his face after reading her blueprint, then when he walked out with the prototype.

But even as she stood in awe of her work, she realized how long it had been since she had properly cared for herself. The lingering hunger in her stomach was becoming unbearable, and a deep fatigue was pulling at her bones. Her body was starting to remind her that she couldn’t keep going like this.

The moment she finished the gauntlets, she knew she needed a break. She couldn’t push her body any further. A long, hot shower was the only thing she craved at that moment.

She stood under the showerhead, feeling the warm water cascade over her tired skin. The hot steam fogged up the bathroom mirror as she leaned against the tiles, letting the heat melt away the tension in her muscles. Her hands moved lazily through her hair, rinsing out the dirt and grime that had accumulated over the past three days of working nonstop.

The water felt like a balm to her soul, the soft spray soothing the aches in her back, her shoulders, and her legs. She stayed there for what felt like hours, the steam making her skin feel alive again. Each drop of water felt like it was washing away not just the grime but also the mental exhaustion that had been building in her mind.

Her thoughts began to wander as she relaxed, the weight of her work melting away. She thought about Bakugo—how he would react to the gauntlets, how she would handle seeing him again. It had been a professional interaction so far, but something about him kept nagging at her mind. He was abrasive, yes, but there was a part of him she couldn’t quite decipher, something raw and genuine underneath his rough exterior.

She let out a sigh as the water beat against her body. Maybe it was because she hadn’t had a proper break, but her mind was running wild. She forced herself to focus, thinking about how she still had a few adjustments to make. There would always be adjustments, but for now, the gauntlets were perfect.

Eventually, after a long time, she turned off the shower, reluctantly leaving the hot water behind. As the steam dissipated, she wrapped herself in a towel and stepped out of the bathroom, feeling like a new person. But that feeling wouldn’t last long. There was still more work to be done.

Just as she was starting to dry off, her phone rang, and she saw that it was Izuku. She quickly grabbed a robe and wrapped it around herself as she picked up the call.

“Hey, Izuku,” she said, her voice a little hoarse. She wasn’t sure if it was from fatigue or something else.

“Hey, Y/n,” Izuku greeted warmly. “How’s the gauntlet coming along? Bakugo’s been really eager to see them.”

“I just finished them,” she replied, a little out of breath. “They’re ready for testing. I’ll be sending him the details later.”

“Wow, that’s great! He’s been waiting for them, but you know how he is,” Izuku said, chuckling. “He’s probably pacing back and forth, eager to get his hands on them.”

You pictured a little troll with Bakugo's face on it, grimy little hands scratching his goofy head pacing back and forth and just scowling at the air.

Y/n smiled, even though Izuku couldn’t see her. “I’m sure. I’ll call him when I’m ready for him to test them out.”

“So… how’s everything else?” Izuku asked, voice lowering a little. “You’re taking care of yourself, right? I know you can get carried away with your work.”

She chuckled softly. “I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

“Good, good,” Izuku said, but she could hear the concern in his voice. “By the way, there’s another hero who’s been looking to get in touch with you. They were impressed by your work, and I think they might be a good fit for your skillset.”

Y/n’s curiosity piqued. “Who’s that?”

Izuku paused for a second before answering, “His name’s Sir Nighteye Junior. He’s got some big projects in the works, and he’s been reaching out to top gear designers. He’s heard about your work with Bakugo and some of the other heroes.”

(LISTEN I FORGOT HE DIED YEARS AGO BUT I ALREADY WROTE HIM INTO THE STORY. PRETEND ITS LIKE SIR NIGHTEYE JR, JUST COPYING SIR NIGHT EYE'S NAME PLS)

Y/n’s brow furrowed at the mention of Nighteye. “That’s... interesting. I’ll need to think about it.”

Izuku chuckled again. “Yeah, I know. I just wanted to give you a heads-up.”

As Y/n hung up the phone, she let the information settle in her mind. Sir Nighteye Junior, huh? It was a big opportunity, but it also felt like a lot of pressure. She wasn’t used to being sought after by heroes, not at this level. But she had no time to think about it right now. Bakugo’s gauntlets were her priority, and she was determined to get them just right.

The work was never-ending, but for Y/n, that was exactly how she liked it. There was always something more to learn, something more to create. The next challenge had already arrived, and she was ready to face it head-on.

She just hoped she’d have a moment to catch her breath before diving into it.

-

It had been a long, demanding few days for Y/n, and just as she thought she might get a break, the lingering thought of Sir Nighteye Junior's request gnawed at her mind. She had almost sent the message to Bakugo to inform him that his gauntlets were ready for pickup, but instead, she found herself staring at her phone screen, wondering if she should give this new opportunity any serious thought. Was she ready to juggle multiple high-profile projects? Her mind was buzzing with the pressure, but she knew she couldn’t put this off any longer. Sir Nighteye Junior was one of the richest heroes in Japan, after inheriting the original Sir Nighteye's inheritance. But Bakugo was a different story...

So, with a long sigh, she sent Bakugo the text: “Your gauntlets are ready for pickup. Let me know when you can stop by to grab them.”

She tried to relax, but her thoughts kept returning to Nighteye. Could she handle him as a client? What kind of demands would he make? She had met this guy before, and he was a complete ass. She buried her phone in her pocket and leaned back in her chair, but just as she did, she heard the chime of her front door.

Bakugo stood in the doorway, a familiar and yet unsettling presence. His eyes narrowed at the sight of her as he stepped inside, his usual cocky confidence on full display. But something about his demeanor was different—there was less of that harsh energy. Perhaps it was the fact that his gauntlets were finally finished, or maybe something else. She had just sent him that text a few seconds ago? Weird, he was probably on patrol nearby. What a weird little angry troll.

Y/n gestured toward the counter where the gauntlets rested, a sleek black-and-orange masterpiece of engineering. "They're ready," she said, standing up and walking over to them. “I made a few adjustments based on what you mentioned before.”

Bakugo walked toward the counter, his gaze quickly scanning over the gauntlets, his sharp eyes catching every small detail. He was quiet, examining them closely. Y/n couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t immediately make a snide remark or scoff. Instead, he paused for a moment, his fingers brushing over the design with a surprising amount of care.

"Yeah, this looks solid," Bakugo muttered. "Better than what I was expecting." His voice was low, but there was a hint of something—maybe respect, maybe admiration—hidden behind his usual gruff tone.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, unsure if she heard that correctly. "You actually like it?"

Bakugo scowled but didn’t seem to find any fault with her work. "I wouldn’t have come here if I didn’t. You’re not completely useless when it comes to making gear."

Y/n’s lips twitched. It wasn’t the most glowing compliment, but coming from him, it meant more than anything overly effusive. Still, she didn’t want to get too comfortable. "I’m glad it’s up to your standards," she replied, trying to keep the conversation professional. "I made sure to adjust the inner feedback system, and the recoil dampeners should keep your arms in one piece after the big hits."

Bakugo grunted, picking up one of the gauntlets and flexing his fingers inside it. "It feels good," he admitted, still inspecting the mechanics. "Could’ve been a bit tighter around the wrist, though."

Y/n immediately noted the adjustment in her mind, feeling the urge to tweak it, but before she could say anything, Bakugo handed her the gauntlet, his eyes still on the design. “Not bad. You made these quick, I’ll give you that.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Was that... a compliment? She nodded, acknowledging it. “Thanks, I did my best to get them just right.”

Bakugo was silent for a moment, then his voice shifted, this time a little less guarded. “You’re not so bad at this... I might’ve underestimated you.”

Y/n blinked in surprise, but before she could respond, Bakugo’s expression hardened again. “But if it’s not right when I test it, we’ll have a problem.”

Y/n chuckled to herself, hiding the small smile threatening to form on her face. "Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it."

But as soon as Bakugo left, her relief didn’t last long. The request from Nighteye had been lingering at the back of her mind. She felt the pressure mounting—could she really handle another demanding hero? Her phone buzzed again, and this time it was from Izuku.

Izuku: “Hey, I know you’re busy, but you need to take a break. You’ve been at this nonstop. Don’t forget to eat, alright? Please let me know if you need anything.”

'Damn how'd he know? Is he sending Bakugo over to spy on me?'

Y/n’s fingers hovered over the keys for a moment. She didn’t want to worry Izuku, but she knew she couldn’t keep up this pace forever. Still, it was hard to turn down the opportunities coming her way. She took a deep breath, putting the phone down as she forced herself to focus.

But just as she was about to start on those final tweaks, the doorbell chimed once more. She opened the door to see Bakugo standing there, a determined look on his face. He didn’t even wait for her to speak before he stormed in. Why was he back?

“Yo,” Bakugo said, glaring at her. “You’re still gonna be working on those, right?”

Y/n looked at him, confused. “What? I thought you were satisfied with the fit.”

Bakugo crossed his arms, clearly agitated. “I’m not talking about the fit,” he growled. “I’m talking about the fact that you look like you’re about to drop dead. Don’t even think about finishing anything else for anyone else until you get some rest.”

Y/n was taken aback. She opened her mouth to protest, but Bakugo held up a hand. “I’m serious. I don’t want my shit messed up ‘cause you’re running on fumes.”

Y/n felt a flicker of irritation. “I can handle it,” she snapped, though her voice lacked its usual conviction.

Bakugo shot her a glare. “No, you can’t. You look like you haven’t eaten in days.”

She opened her mouth again to argue, but Bakugo was already marching out the door. “I’ll deal with the other hero. Take care of yourself. You’re no use to anyone if you’re dead on your feet.”

Oh, so Izuku Midoriya was a snitch. He could never shut up, but seriously? Snitching on me to one of my clients, low blow mido.

Y/n watched as he disappeared, leaving her standing there with the quiet hum of her shop filling the space. The gauntlets, now finished, were still sitting on the counter. They were perfect. And yet, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of gratitude toward Bakugo, despite his harshness.

She pulled out her phone and texted him, telling him to come pick them up tommrow when his check towards her came in and she finished tightening it around the wrists.

She sat down, staring at the phone that still buzzed with messages from Izuku, and now from Nighteye, and from the other hero she was starting to work with. There was a lot to juggle, but for once, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep it all together.

After Bakugo left, Y/n found herself alone in the quiet shop, the only sound being the faint hum of the overhead lights. Her phone buzzed incessantly, but she ignored it, the texts from Izuku, Nighteye, and even her neighbors a distant reminder of everything she was neglecting. She was already too far into the work, too close to finishing something that had been consuming her thoughts for days. The gauntlets were on the counter, and her hands instinctively reached for them again, drawn by the quiet need to make just one more adjustment.

She didn’t even realize how long she had been standing there, focused solely on tightening the area around the wrists of the gauntlets. The pressure on her mind was mounting, but the satisfaction of the work kept her focused, the details of the design unfolding in her mind as she worked. A small click of the wrench and a few more measurements brought the fit closer to perfection, but it wasn’t enough. She had to make sure the adjustment was precise, that the fit would be perfect for Bakugo’s gauntlets—anything less than flawless would be unacceptable.

She didn’t notice the hours slipping by. The light from the window faded, leaving the shop bathed in the soft glow of the overhead lamps, casting long shadows across the workshop floor. It wasn’t until the silence felt too heavy, too oppressive, that she took a deep breath and pulled her hands away from the work.

Y/n glanced at the clock on the wall—9:45 p.m. Her stomach growled loudly, a sharp reminder of how long it had been since she had last eaten. She blinked, momentarily dazed, and ran a hand through her hair. She hadn’t realized how far she’d pushed herself until now. The last few days had blurred together in a haze of blueprints, soldering, and testing. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast that morning.

Her phone was still buzzing on the counter, but she didn’t have the energy to check it. She felt lightheaded from exhaustion, and her body was begging for a break. Still, she had to finish. The gauntlets weren’t quite there yet.

With a soft sigh, Y/n gave up on the idea of further adjustments for the night. She gathered the gauntlets and placed them gently on the table, her mind already preoccupied with how she’d continue tomorrow. She needed to rest, but a quick glance at the clock reminded her of just how little time she had. The pressure was mounting again—she still had to finish the adjustments and complete the other projects waiting for her.

But for now, the call of the bed was stronger.

Yawning, Y/n made her way upstairs, her legs heavy and unsteady. Her mind was already spinning with thoughts of work again, but it didn’t matter. She barely registered the soft light in the hallway as she shuffled toward her room.

Once in bed, her body didn’t hesitate—she collapsed into the sheets, the exhaustion finally catching up with her. Sleep hit her hard, and she was out within minutes, her phone still buzzing unanswered on the kitchen counter.

Outside, the night continued on, but inside Y/n's world was silent, save for the hum of her mind still whirring with the weight of everything she had yet to do.

---

Bakugo shoved his hands into his pockets as he stepped out of Y/n’s workshop, his mind still running through the adjustments she had made on his gauntlets. The way she worked, her attention to every detail—it had impressed him. But he wasn’t about to admit that. Not yet, anyway. He growled under his breath as he walked down the street, the evening chill nipping at his face. He’d barely slept the past few days, and even now he could feel the weight of the new gauntlets on his shoulders, his thoughts still tangled with the adjustments.

It was quiet, but it was that kind of quiet that felt oppressive, like everything was waiting for something. Something big. The hum of the city buzzed around him, but it barely reached his ears. His mind was still on Y/n and her workshop, the way she had talked about the process, her focus. It was a far cry from the way most people worked. He couldn't deny it—there was something about her approach that made him feel like his gauntlets might finally be exactly what he needed.

But that wasn’t his problem. Not now. He had a different problem. The problem of his life outside of work, the life he couldn't ignore when he wasn’t buried in prototypes and design specs.

The low rumble of a motorcycle engine broke his thoughts as he walked past the familiar corner bar. Kirishima, Mina, and Midoriya were already there, waiting for him. He didn’t care much for the whole "drinks with friends" thing—he wasn’t exactly the type to unwind with alcohol. But Kirishima insisted, and despite his usual gruffness, Bakugo didn’t mind the idea of letting off some steam after the past few days of stress.

He opened the door to the bar, the familiar smell of beer and grilled food wafting through the air. Mina waved excitedly from the back booth, her bright pink hair bouncing as she jumped to greet him. Midoriya looked up from his phone, and Kirishima flashed his usual goofy grin.

“Yo, Bakugo!” Kirishima called, giving him a nod. “You look like you’re about to blow up something—what’s up, man?"

Bakugo grunted, sitting down across from them. “Nothing. Just got done with some bullshit.”

Mina raised an eyebrow, clearly picking up on his tone. “You’re not in the best mood, huh?”

Bakugo slouched into the seat, still feeling the irritation building in his chest, even though the gauntlets were coming along well. “I’m fine,” he snapped, but there was something in his voice that gave it away. Kirishima didn’t press it, but Midoriya, who had a knack for reading people, glanced over at him.

“Y/n?” Midoriya asked softly, as if testing the waters.

Bakugo tensed, but he gave a short nod. “Yeah. She’s good. The gauntlets are... fine. Better than fine, actually. She knows her shit.”

There was a brief pause before Kirishima laughed. “I told you she was awesome, dude. You were all stubborn about it, but now I’m hearing some praise!”

“I’m not praising her,” Bakugo shot back quickly, his voice a little sharper than he intended. “I’m just saying... they’re good. I don’t have time for anything else. I don’t want her to screw it up with my gear.”

Mina smirked, glancing at Kirishima. “Sounds like someone’s got a soft spot for his gear designer.”

Bakugo’s eyes narrowed dangerously, his fingers twitching toward his drink. “Shut the hell up, Ashido,” he growled, but there was a flicker of something—maybe respect, maybe something else—in his eyes.

Midoriya cleared his throat, always the peacemaker. “So... you’re gonna get the final version of the gauntlets tomorrow, huh?”

Bakugo nodded. “Yeah. She said it’ll be ready by tomorrow afternoon. I’m going to test them, make sure there aren’t any problems. If she really knows what she’s doing, they’ll be ready for the field. And if not, I’ll make her fix it.”

Kirishima raised his glass. “To Y/n then, the genius behind Bakugo’s new gear!”

Bakugo scowled at him, but there was no denying the appreciation in his voice when he spoke again. “I’m serious though. If she makes a mistake, I’ll make her fix it. I’m not going back to that useless shit Hatsume made for me.”

Kirishima’s expression softened. “She’s got your back, man. You’ll see.”

Bakugo didn’t answer. Instead, he took a long drink, feeling the burn of the alcohol hit him faster than usual. His thoughts drifted back to Y/n, to the way she had worked on the gauntlets with that quiet focus. He didn’t know what it was about her, but she didn’t seem like the typical designer. She didn’t treat him like some pro hero—she treated him like another job, another challenge.

And for the first time in a long while, it felt like someone was actually getting his gear right.

While Bakugo sat with his friends, the conversation continued around him. But in his head, Y/n’s workshop, her blueprint, and the gauntlets she had crafted were all he could think about. He was still the same Bakugo—the one who didn't trust anyone easily. But this time, maybe... just maybe, his stubborn pride could make room for a bit of respect.

Bakugo’s mind raced with thoughts of the gauntlets, but it wasn’t just the work that was nagging at him now. Y/n had been pushing herself too hard. The stress was practically seeping out of her—he could see it in the way she was working nonstop, barely taking breaks. He'd noticed the way she rubbed her eyes, the slight tremor in her hands, the exhaustion that barely even seemed to phase her. It bothered him more than he'd care to admit, but he wasn’t one to show concern directly. Instead, his instincts kicked in. He wasn't going to let her screw this up because some asshole hero was rushing her to get things done.

It was mid-afternoon when he made up his mind. Bakugo had already done his part by making sure the design was spot on. The rest was up to her. But this new request from Sir Nighteye Junior—a high-profile hero known for his demanding nature—had put undue pressure on Y/n. She didn’t need that kind of stress, not now. She wasn’t some machine that could be pushed past her limits without consequences. Bakugo wasn't going to let some rich hero screw things up, especially when it was about his gear.

He couldn’t believe it—Sir Nighteye Junior had the audacity to demand Y/n prioritize his request over everything else. Bakugo clenched his jaw, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edges of his jacket. No one was going to mess with his gauntlets, and definitely no one was going to force Y/n into making mistakes because they couldn't be patient.

Kirishima had told him about the meeting with Sir Nighteye Junior the other day. The hero was practically hounding Y/n for her attention, and he couldn’t stand the thought of some entitled rich kid rushing her work. Bakugo wasn’t a hero for nothing. He was going to set things straight.

Bakugo didn’t waste any time. He left his friends sitting at the bar with one goal in mind. He’d heard where Sir Nighteye Junior had been staying, a lavish penthouse near the edge of the city, and he wasn’t in the mood for playing games. He was sick of heroes like him flaunting their status, using their influence to get what they wanted, especially when it came to Y/n. She’d worked too hard to be pushed around.

He stormed through the front doors of the building, ignoring the receptionist’s attempts to stop him. He was Bakugo Katsuki, and he didn’t have time for pleasantries. The elevator ride up to the penthouse felt too long, the tension in the air almost unbearable. His eyes were sharp, burning with a quiet rage.

When the elevator doors finally opened, Bakugo marched straight toward the door of Sir Nighteye Junior’s suite. He didn’t knock. He didn’t need to. He kicked the door open with force, the sound of it slamming against the wall echoing in the empty space.

Inside, Sir Nighteye Junior was sitting behind an elegant mahogany desk, looking up in surprise as Bakugo stepped in, his expression a perfect mask of annoyance and anger.

“Bakugo Katsuki. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Sir Nighteye Junior asked, his voice smooth, but the surprise was still evident in his eyes.

“I’m here to make one thing clear,” Bakugo said, his voice low and dangerous. He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. “You’re going to stop pressuring Y/n. Right now.”

Sir Nighteye Junior’s brow furrowed. “I don’t think you understand—”

“No, you don’t understand,” Bakugo snapped, cutting him off. “Y/n doesn’t need your deadlines. She doesn’t need you breathing down her neck about your gear requests. She’s been doing this for years, and she’s been doing it damn well. You’re not going to screw that up with your demands. You’ll wait, and you’ll like it.”

There was a tense silence as Sir Nighteye Junior processed his words. Bakugo didn’t move. He wasn’t going anywhere until this was settled. He wasn’t about to let anyone ruin the work Y/n had been doing, not with the pressure she was under. It wasn’t just about her skill—it was about the fact that she had no time to waste on people who didn’t respect her process.

“I don’t take kindly to threats,” Sir Nighteye Junior said, his voice colder now. He stood up from his desk, pushing his chair back with a faint creak. “You think you can just come here and demand I halt my requests because of some woman’s workload?”

Bakugo’s eyes hardened. “I’m not asking you to halt your request,” he said, his voice even colder than before. “I’m telling you, you’re going to wait. And if you think I’m bluffing, try me.”

The tension in the room was palpable. For a long moment, neither of them spoke, the silence almost suffocating. Sir Nighteye Junior stared at Bakugo, a mixture of disbelief and frustration crossing his face. But Bakugo didn’t care. He had no intention of backing down.

Finally, Sir Nighteye Junior spoke again, his voice low. “Fine. I’ll give her some breathing room. But don’t think this means I won’t be expecting results. I’m not one to sit idly by.”

Bakugo didn’t respond immediately, his gaze unyielding. “Good. Now, don’t forget what I just said.”

With that, Bakugo turned and stormed out of the office, the door slamming behind him with a satisfying thud. He took a deep breath, his hands still clenched tightly at his sides.

As he made his way back to his apartment, Bakugo’s thoughts shifted back to Y/n. He hadn’t done this for her approval, not in the way most people would expect. He wasn’t trying to be a good guy. But she deserved respect. She deserved the space to do her work, and he’d be damned if anyone tried to interfere with that.

When he finally got back to his apartment, he slumped down onto the couch. He didn’t feel satisfied, but there was a strange sense of relief that washed over him. Maybe it wasn’t about the gear after all. Maybe it was more about making sure Y/n had the space to do her thing without being harassed.

With a sigh, he picked up his phone, thumb hovering over Y/n’s contact. Should he text her? Probably not. But then again, she needed to know. He didn’t care about being nice. But maybe—just maybe—she’d appreciate the fact that he had her back.

He sent the text.

"I dealt with that scrawny Nighteye Junior kid, he's off your shoulders. So make sure you rest so my gauntlets will turn out perfect. Got it?"

Bakugo’s face contorted in disgust as he recalled the stench of the penthouse. The air was thick with the lingering scent of sex, a sharp, off-putting reminder of the kind of people Sir Nighteye Junior kept company with. It wasn’t a place Bakugo was used to. He was used to being around real heroes, people who cared about their work, their craft, and their integrity—not some spoiled, entitled rich kid who thought he could buy respect.

The two women who had been lounging on the couch, barely clothed and obviously unbothered by the presence of a professional hero, only added to the vile atmosphere. They had barely even acknowledged Bakugo’s entrance, too busy sipping on glasses of wine and giggling like they hadn’t a care in the world. It sickened him, the lack of respect, the blatant disregard for what was important. It wasn’t his place to judge, but it still made him feel like the air was dirtier than it should’ve been.

But he had a job to do, and that wasn’t going to be swayed by the trashy atmosphere he’d had to endure for the past half-hour. He was there for one thing and one thing only: Y/n’s work. It was what mattered, not the indulgences of people like Sir Nighteye Junior.

Shaking off the memory, Bakugo sat down on the couch in his apartment, his phone clenched tightly in his hand. He’d sent the text to Y/n, but now he was waiting for her response. Part of him felt weird about it—he wasn’t the kind of person who just casually texted someone after something like this. But this was different. He knew he had to check in on the gauntlets; she deserved to have everything perfect.

There was a rare sense of calm now that the situation with Sir Nighteye Junior was resolved. He’d made sure Y/n wouldn’t be pressured anymore. He’d gone out of his way, despite his usual attitude, because she deserved it. Her work mattered too much for someone to throw around their power like that.

Now, as he waited for the message to come through, he couldn’t help but think about the gauntlets. They were perfect, weren’t they? He had been impressed with the prototype, and after seeing her dedication, after seeing her work with such precision, he knew she was the right person for the job. No more interruptions. No more stress. He couldn’t wait to see how it all came together, and now that the pressure from Sir Nighteye Junior was off her shoulders, Bakugo was certain she could finish them without any distractions.

As he stared at his phone, the buzzing vibration broke his concentration. The message from Y/n was there, and he quickly unlocked the screen, his eyes scanning it.

"Yup i got it, btw gauntlets are ready for testing," she had written. "Let me know when you can come by, and we’ll get started."

A small smirk tugged at the corner of Bakugo’s lips. Perfect. It was exactly what he had been waiting for.

---

[porcelainseashore]

Into the Ether (1)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire! Toreador! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Summary: At the all-night events cafe you run, you’ve become acquainted with an elusive patron, Leon, though you can never remember the last moments of your interactions together. After a harrowing encounter, a love-hate relationship develops between the two of you as you grapple with your newfound status in a world of darkness and investigate the reasons behind the untimely attacks.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Resident Evil x Vampire: The Masquerade crossover, horror, mystery, romance, slow burn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut, swearing, smoking, alcohol, drug references, non consensual blood drinking, blood bond, vampire turning, violence, injury, mild gore, torture, religious themes, minor character death, RE ensemble, VtM concepts.

Author's Note: Super excited for this crossover series! I’ll try to keep a regular update schedule on Wednesdays. I might take some liberties with VtM lore and mechanics to fit the story, but hope to stay as true as I can to the source material. Finally, I imagined RE2R Leon (my favorite!) in this role 🫶

AO3 Link

Chapter 1: RC By Night

You first saw him in summer, when the days were long and the nights were short, and the streets came to life again. There was the heady smell of pollen in the air and the humidity was sweltering. Just a couple of months after you and a bunch of idealistic friends from your theater school days had taken the plunge, and opened an all-night cafe in one of the cheaper, grittier areas of town, east of the river of Raccoon City.

It had been a scrappy little project, one you didn’t expect to receive a cult following and gain in popularity amongst the intellectuals and counterculture crowd. But then again, there was also the City College nearby and the events program you’d lined up each week drew them in. From comedy nights and disco fevers to site-specific and performance art, you knew what people liked and how they wanted to be entertained. A bit of kitsch, a sprinkle of avant-garde and a generous dose of unpretentious social drinking. It pulled him in too.

Him. You didn’t even know his name. The first thing you had noticed were his striking blue eyes that seemed to glow from the shadows of the dimly lit space, peering out at you. Always observing, always watching, never speaking. Sometimes he’d glance over across the opposite end of the room at another pair of companions — a rugged, broad-shouldered man with a dark crew cut bumping shoulders with a younger, spunky redhead in a matching biker jacket. They’d exchange subtle looks of recognition and mild suspicion before returning to whatever they were doing. Though they never uttered a single word to each other.

He came back week after week, ordering the same drink each time, but never touching it. One Manhattan, please. You obliged. A waitress you had sent over to pry on your behalf told you he enjoyed the cocktail, but couldn’t tolerate much alcohol. You saw him lift the drink to his nose, sniffing it as the corners of his mouth turned upwards, silently smiling to himself before he placed it back down on the table again. Strange. You shook your head and prepared a cup of black coffee, taking it over to him as his eyes lit up in surprise with your approach.

“On the house,” you explained, plonking it down on the table. He raised an eyebrow but remained tight-lipped.

Maybe he didn’t like coffee? Or how did he usually take it? “Uh—” you turned back towards the service area, as if to check that the condiments were still in place. “Would you like some creamer or sugar to go with it?”

He raised his hand to indicate it wasn’t necessary and his jaw clenched, before fixing it into an awkward smile. “Thank you.”

Those were the first words he had spoken to you. It rolled off his tongue like a swirl of mist, a sliver of a dream you couldn’t quite remember when waking up. You took another step forward to get a better look at him. He had a baby face, angelic almost, with that typical, boy next door charm your mom would have gushed at, and you imagined he couldn’t be older than his early twenties. Upon closer inspection, he seemed slightly pale, faint dark circles around his eyes that had seen more than his fair share for his age. There was a sense of weariness and jadedness behind them that made him appear older than he was.

Bringing the cup to his lips, he sipped a small mouthful, letting it sit for a moment, before swallowing it down languidly. You admired the curve of his Adam’s apple, bobbing as the liquid poured down his throat, littered with freckles and specks of moles. Something about his very presence mesmerized you, even more so than earlier. It was hard to place a finger on what it was exactly, and why this feeling seemed to grow with every second you were lingering near him.

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, tapping it on the table before offering one to you. Why not? You were a social smoker and took it as a sign to join him. In fact, there was no other place you’d rather be at the moment. You were confused, but did not question it as you took a seat beside him, noticing that he flinched each time he flicked open his lighter to ignite a flame.

His fingertips brushed across your wrist as he lit your cigarette, causing you to shiver in response, while his jaw tensed again, as if trying to rein something in. Licking his lips, he took a puff from his own, exhaling the smoke as it billowed around him and for a second you thought you’d lost him to a wall of fog. Both of you continued smoking in silence, checking in with each other through furtive glances, even though there was nothing to be ashamed about.

At some point, you followed the direction of his gaze and saw that same pair of companions he often regarded from the corner of his eye. They were frowning, giving him dirty looks as he shrugged nonchalantly in return.

“Not much of a talker, are you?” you broke through the thick stillness of the air that surrounded the both of you like a bubble, separated from the rest of the evening revelers.

“You’re observant,” he teased, his eyes crinkling as he stubbed out the leftovers of his cigarette in the ashtray. You followed suit.

“So, what brings you here?” you asked, gesturing to the suit attire sans tie that he was wearing. “Don’t get me wrong, but this place doesn’t exactly seem like the kind you types hang out at.”

“Hm,” he huffed, though your question didn’t phase him. “And what exactly is my type?”

“I’d say you were a yuppie,” you blurted out, your mouth rarely had a filter on these days. “But I can’t be sure, something about you seems…”

“Off?” he offered, smirking, yet his expression carried a hint of somberness.

“Different,” you corrected, but mumbled out a quick apology nonetheless soon after.

“Don’t be,” he grazed your hand again as he adjusted himself in his chair, and you felt like he was doing this on purpose. “At least you’re honest. It’s a rare quality to find these days.” Though the way he said the last sentence sounded loaded with a double meaning.

“These days?” you guffawed. “You’re speaking like an old man.”

He joined in your laughter though that was the end of your conversation for that night. The rest of the evening went by in a blind haze, and you found yourself in a dazed state later on in the wee hours of the morning, still sitting at the same table, but your newfound friend gone without a trace. None of your colleagues had noticed a thing. You didn’t even get his name, but you shook yourself, commanding your limbs to get back to business and clean up after the customers that had left.

The next time you saw him was when you were hosting the karaoke night of the month. Decked out in a shimmery mermaid glitter jumpsuit, hair tied up in pigtails and face caked with extravagant make up, you hopped onto the stage, only to nearly stumble on your flimsy heels when those piercing blue eyes landed on you from the all the way back. Of all the nights he could have dropped in, he chose this one.

You suppressed your embarrassment and warmed up the audience with a couple of well-placed jokes before kicking the event off with those who had registered to participate. It appeared to be a tough crowd as you only had a handful of sign ups, and would need to potentially seek out volunteers when they were done. You hoped the rackety sound system would hold up till then too.

Fortunately, when it came to the crunch — which it did — you always had an ace up your sleeve. “You there,” you called out, pointing towards the back of the room. “Yeah, blue eyes, you.” Crooking your finger, you beckoned him over, waiting in anticipation to see what he would do.

To your surprise, he bowed his head, accepting the challenge, before slowly weaving his way through the crowd, who were cheering him on with your prompting, towards the stage. He flashed you his pearly whites as he climbed up the short stairs, his floppy bangs bouncing with each step. For a moment, you thought you caught something feral in his gaze, but it dissipated when he reached out for the mic from you, his hands sweeping over yours with an electric touch.

You were in awe of him, like almost everyone else in the cafe, when he broke out in a rich tenor voice, effortlessly floating through the notes of the gentle melody, that you felt as though you were being wrapped in a serene, velvet cocoon. Enthusiastic claps and hoots filled the space when he finished. The only two people in the room who were scowling were the same pair of companions he knew from before.

“Will you join me after the show?” he whispered in your ear as he handed you back the mic. Nodding was the only appropriate response.

You were rushed off your feet for the next couple of hours and it was late by the time you called the event to a close, but he was still there, by his usual table, waiting patiently for you.

“So you decided to push me into the spotlight,” he accused with a wry smile.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it,” you shot back. “Here.” You set a cup of black coffee down in front of him. “My treat.”

“You’re too kind.” It sounded flat, like a game that had become routine between the two of you. He took a sip from it, nothing more, nothing less.

That was all you could recall from your conversation. You didn’t get his name until a few nights after.

“Hey, blue eyes,” you acknowledged as he strolled in.

“Leon,” he disclosed sharply. “It’s Leon.”

That was the night of exchanging introductions. You named all the nights you’d spent with him under various labels, so you wouldn’t forget.

Another night, he had whipped out a flip phone and you nearly choked on your drink. “They still make those?” You stared in disbelief.

He turned to face you in amusement.

“Bet you don’t have a—”

You didn’t even need to finish your sentence for him to fish out his pager, dangling it in front of you like a toy.

“Fuck off,” you laughed. “No fucking way.”

He grinned at your outburst and it was one of those times, few and far between, where you experienced a glimpse of that youthful energy he often hid behind a calm, matured facade.

“You’re still living in the 90s dude?” you jested, grabbing the pager as you flipped it over, trying to determine if it was real. It was.

His lips curled up into a playful smirk. “Something like that.”

“Healthcare,” you guessed, squinting at him. “I heard people there still have them. You’re a doctor?”

“I wish.” He coughed out a self-deprecating laugh, before rummaging through his wallet for a sleek white card, sliding over to you. “P.I., actually.”

“Private Investigator Leon S. Kennedy,” you read the title out loud, deliberately emphasizing each word.

“Go ahead, shout it from the rooftops,” he joked.

“Don’t tempt me.” You gave what you hoped was a cheeky wink, not flirty, definitely not flirty.

A lopsided smile spread across his face, and you wondered if you were finally beginning to unravel the mystery of this man, one that he seemed to carry around like a burden.

“Well, now you know where to find me.” He winked back, taking a tiny sip of his free coffee.

That was the night of P.I. Kennedy. Soon, these nights blurred into each other. You felt like you were getting a step closer, but yet you weren’t. He always had you at an arm’s length for some reason, even though he seemed to want more. Why did he keep coming back?

He also appeared to care about what you thought of him. At some point forth, he started dressing down, exchanging his usual formal attire for a shirt with no blazer, and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. A fine gold chain necklace peeked out from underneath his top collar, which was left unbuttoned. “Better like this?” he asked with no context. You had to pause and consider what he meant for a while before you understood.

“If you’d like to fit in.” You shrugged indifferently. “But I don’t think you want to.”

“You know me well,” he murmured fondly. The back of his fingers caressed the side of your neck, just under your jawline, along a pulse point. You closed your eyes and sighed. It felt sensitive and tender.

“And how well do you know me?” you asked. 

There was no reply, but somehow you already knew the answer.

Another thing you were vaguely aware of was that you kept missing the tail end of your interactions with him. It was as though after a certain point in the night, you would come to, like waking up from a daydream, and he would have disappeared by then.

Your colleagues asked if you were seeing each other. Were you? You were only chatting, you surmised. Nothing had gone that far yet, at least from what you had gathered. But you liked him more than you would’ve liked to admit.

He walked you home one night, and when you reached your doorstep, you were about to invite him in, but he interrupted you. “There’s something I need to tell you…”

Guilt clouded his eyes, unmistakable and heavy. But as he was about to say more, he held back, as if pulled by an invisible thread. Then, you felt yourself overcome with tiredness, but it was pleasant and comforting. “Can you help me to bed?” Your voice sounded far away.

All at once, you felt yourself being propped up under his arm and your weight shifting under your feet, until your head touched a feather-soft pillow. He draped a blanket over your unmoving body. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I never should have—” Even in your state, you could tell it pained him.

“I won’t do it again, unless you let me.” 

That was the last you heard from him for a while.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Leon couldn’t get enough of you. Believe him, he tried countless times, but it didn’t work. From the moment he had set foot into that establishment, he had damned himself. He knew it when he spotted you and smelled your sanguine resonance from afar. It was the humor of your blood, and it was stronger and more consistent than he was used to. You were just so full of life, and enjoying it to the point where he was envious. You signified all the hopes and dreams that had been dashed spectacularly to the ground, ever since becoming… what he was now.

He had to have a taste of you. A little drop wouldn’t hurt, would it? He’d been taught ages ago, by Ada, his sire, that he needed people like you to survive. If one ignored their hunger for too long, things would get worse, so much worse, and not just for himself, but for everyone else around him. It was simply the lesser of two evils to feed, and he’d never actually killed anyone by doing so. Then, why did it feel so wrong? He had gotten good at pushing down these thoughts, until they were reduced to an inaudible hum at the back of his mind. Just like many other things, he learnt to compromise. But compromising meant that sometimes, he’d lose a piece of himself. If there was an equivalent of a soul within the monster he had become, then it was fragmented, and he’d never get back the ones that had dissolved into the ether, due to the bad decisions he had made. Like the ones he would soon make with you.

Taste. Taste was something he had acquired since young. In his human life, he always had an eye for detail, an eye for what fit, what worked, and what didn’t. It certainly helped when he became a cold case detective with the police force, filled with unbridled potential, only to have that overturned, when he decided to chase after love instead of missing people and puzzle pieces. For years, he would’ve done anything for her, only for it to amount to wasted time and regret when the inevitable boredom that came with time struck, and he was tossed aside over something exciting and new. Still, he knew a delicious vessel when he saw one. You were just meant to be a special curiosity that he could pass on to the older vampire for a favor or two. At least, that was what he told himself, when you took the initial bait and he beckoned you to stay through unnatural means. That was the first lie.

When he bit into you, he was met with a burst of color, vibrant shades of all kinds of red. The flavor saturated his mouth: sweet roses, his favorite kind, their scent carried on a gentle zephyr; warm light that enveloped him but didn’t hurt; traces of nicotine coursing through your veins; and the familiar iron tang that gave it its kick. Your face, your voice, your very essence haunted him in that taste. He could see you like a will-o'-the-wisp performing on stage in one of your many plays across a lifetime, laughing with your friends in the back of a car speeding down the highway, crying into a pillow when you had your heart broken by your first love… How was this possible? Your memories came flooding through him and you were blissfully unaware of it all. He felt like a spy, listening in to all your secrets and desires, and his blatant invasion of your privacy disgusted him.

This was wrong. He shouldn’t have gotten so close. He should’ve heeded the warning glances the Redfield siblings were throwing his way. So, he tried his best to stay away, but like an addict, he kept crawling back, seeking you out like a dog with its tail between its legs. How could a mere mortal have such an effect on him? Did he taste this way to Ada when she turned him? He laughed sardonically. If only she could see him now, being so torn up over a woman he had just met.

He tried to erase you from his mind, but you were always meant to be something more. You reminded him of all the things he missed when he was living. You were the best he had ever tasted, but he didn’t want to turn you over to her, not yet. After all, he could afford to enjoy you for just one more time. The second lie had spun its thick, dark webs throughout his head. Truth be told, he would never share you with anyone else.

The third lie came when he resolved to tell you what he really was. He couldn’t keep going on like this and deceiving you, but his sire’s words bore down on him. “You don’t get attached to a vessel,” she scoffed. Wait, wasn’t he one too at some point? Her contradictory words replayed in his ears like a broken record. In any case, he wasn’t attached. He was being brave and honest, which was how he liked to think of himself. But when it came to the crunch outside your doorstep, he was a coward, finding himself unable to breach the rules of the Masquerade and gave in to his urges instead. It was then that he realized deep down, he was truly a despicable and hateful low-life.

Thump! He felt his body slam against a solid wall, as he entered a secluded alleyway round the corner from your apartment. A dull ache bloomed across his skin. After the events that had happened that night, he didn’t even bother putting up a fight. He slumped down until the brawny, older male sibling, Chris, lifted him by his collar and pinned him in place. At the same time, the slender redhead, Claire, Chris’ female counterpart, spoke, “Where the hell are you going with this, Leon?”

“Why do you care?” he spat, blood coating his teeth. “The cafe’s in neutral ground, no one’s claimed domain over it yet. I can feed on whoever I like.”

“Listen, you’re Cam scum, but you saved my brother back then, and you used to hang with us,” she hissed, jabbing her finger into his shoulder to emphasize each point. “So, I’m gonna give you a tip, but just this once.”

She brought her mouth to his ear. “There’s interest in the domain… and you’re not the only suitor vying for her attention.”

His eyes widened at the threat.

“Whatever you do, do it fast.”

[fudgechocolatepuff]

a simple night for us ⋆·˚ ༘ *

1.9k words [7-8 min read.] keigo t. x fem . reader

summary: you wake up from a long nap nearing 10pm. your apartment is a mess, but all you want to do is see your keigo..

mentions: a summerween fluff fic where you and keigo spend time together until the moment you fall asleep together ♡

ping! 

you jerked up out of your arms that your head was resting on seconds before, roused out of your deep slumber that was intended to only be a light nap. 

you were exhausted to say the least. your bones ached from doing all of your daily activities and chores, yearning to rest once again, but you were already past feeling drowsy and sleepy, now alert and wide awake. 

wearily, you attempted to sit up from the couch you’d been napping on but winced, your limbs sore from the awkward position that you had fallen asleep in. 

as you readjusted yourself on the cushions, stretching out your arms and popping a few joints, your eyes glanced over your dimly candle-lit living room in search of the loud noise that you swore you heard from your phone…

once you had found your phone tangled within dozens of papers from work in front of you on the coffee table, your warm fingers scooped it up from the mess on the table, hands shifting, fixing themselves to cup your phone within your palms. 

the bright glow that emitted from the cellphone made you squint and scrunch your face a bit as your eyes weren’t used to the brightness, and you opted to turn the brightness down on your phone yourself. 

your eyes darted to the bottom of your screen to the notification that woke you up in the first place.

——

sent 5 minutes ago.

kei 

9:46 p.m. 

Hey, are you busy rn? Just got off early from my night patrol.

——

your breath slowed and softened as you realized it was only keigo. oh how you missed his silly cute charming self. poor man was being worked to the bone and he’s had to sacrifice his entire schedule primarily for work, which included spending time with you.

looking up from the glow of your device to scan your living room and kitchen, you cringed at the state it was in, appearing unkempt as you recall you hadn’t been able to even start drying the many dishes left in the sink. 

a tired sigh left your lips as the clutter of your apartment would possibly sabotage a night spent with your boyfriend. 

then, suddenly, a wave of motivation came over yourself, and you quickly typed back in your messages:

——

you

9:48 p.m

no im not busy rn, can u come over pls? i just want to have an us night.  ——

text bubbles popped up seconds after you sent the message.

——

kei

9:48 p.m

Of course, sweets. How about a movie night? I can go to the nearest 7-11 for snacks. I’ll try to be at your place in 30 minutes tops, just gotta close up my office for the night. 

——

well damn did he type fast, and DAMN WAS HE GOING TO GET HERE FAST! maybe, just maybe you could have time to clean up the work in front of you, dry the dishes as hurriedly as possible, and take the quickest shower of your life! 

immediately, you got to work, clearing the table and stuffing the immense amount of paperwork in your folder and into your bag. ‘25 minutes.. okay. i got this.’ 

you scrubbed and scrubbed at each bowl and cup frantically, nearly throwing them all in the cabinets as 18 minutes remained. 

scattering to the bathroom, you turned on the shower, and cramped your usually-one-hour-shower-routine into one that lasted merely 15 minutes. 

lunging for your robe and towel, you run back to your bedroom where you made your bed as neat as it could look, taking a few steps back to do a final inspection of your room to make sure everything seemed right in place and cozy enough for you and keigo.

turning your heel back to the living room, you picked up your phone resting on the sofa and checked to see if keigo had given any update about his whereabouts, to which your eyes lit up at the message he sent: 

——

sent 2 minutes ago. 

kei

10:20 p.m

I might be a little late, I got caught up in something happening out on the street. I’ll be there in 10, for real this time :)

——

ping!

——

sent just now.

kei

10:22 p.m

Also, batman or hello kitty? 

——

okay, that was not a question that you expected, but at least you still had time to dry off and wait for him. 

why would he ask you about.. whatever. you responded back: 

——

you 

10:22 p.m 

hello kitty, and its okay dont worry about it <3

——

—————

tap tap tap tap! 

the pattern of keigo’s taps on your balcony door were almost silent from your bedroom, but you could never miss it, because it was keigo of course; you knew it was him. 

mincing your way to the balcony door, you were greeted with keigo waving at you like a little boy, an infectious smile on his face while holding a number of bags in his right hand stuffed with goods.  

sliding the door open, he stepped in, kicking off his boots as he sent some of his feathers to take ahold of the goodies, emerging from his back and snatching the bags to make their way to the kitchen counter. 

he took you in his arms and hugged you tight, with a subtle “hey..” whispered in your ear that made you tingle. 

your arms slid up his back, careful to not accidentally brush against his wings, as the pads of your fingers reached the back of his neck, holding and brushing through the soft blonde locks at the back of his head. 

“i missed you,” you muttered against his shoulder.

“missed ya’ too, sweets. so much.” he replied, engulfing the scent of your shampoo in your hair, his gloved hands rubbing circles on your back. 

you didn’t mind taking a few minutes to just be in the moment with keigo. you had missed him so, all you could do was rest on his shoulder and sway with him. 

eventually, he pulled away to take off his jacket and gloves as well as the visors sitting on the top of his head. he then took ahold of your hand while he led you into the kitchen. 

he grabbed one of the bags placed on the countertop and took out the contents inside. he handed you the softest pj set of hello kitty that you’d ever felt, only it was halloween themed, with witch hats and pumpkins and bats embroidered on the set. 

“i thought the bats on yours would match mine,” he explained, gesturing to the set he was holding in his hands. batman pjs.

ohh, so that’s what he meant with that text..

you agreed with him, “i think its adorable, they match so cutely!” smiling at keigo with your eyes beaming up at him, he chuckled to himself, internally cheering himself on as his little plan to match with you worked. 

“wait for me in your room. im gonna take a quick shower, then we’ll have the whole night to ourselves, yeah?” 

giddy was an understatement for what you felt. you nodded your head as you both headed to your room. 

you sat down on your bed while keigo pinched your cheek before entering the bathroom. 

—————

“so.. i was thinking about a movie, but honestly i don’t know what to choose.” you admitted to keigo, who had his head rested comfortably on your shoulder. 

“how about a halloween movie? it’d match our outfits pretty well, kinda like a little theme, like summerween maybe.” 

his suggestion intrigued you. it wasn’t fall yet, but you always loved the idea of a summerween movie night. 

“i’d love that actually.” 

the two of you settled on the nightmare before christmas to watch, cuddling one another with a blanket wrapped around you two, nice and snug together like two peas in a pod. 

[secretly, the two of you always have a debate whether it’s a halloween movie or a christmas movie. you always win every time with halloween.]

although it was ones of your favorites, the movie that you were supposed to be watching was drowned out as you turned to look at keigo. 

his sharp irises focused on the screen in front of him, his tusks of blond hair that usually stood upright and slicked back at his forehead were rested upon his eyes, flowing downward as if they were bangs, and they complimented his features so well. every few seconds or so, he would feed himself with a fist full of of popcorn, and you couldn’t help but just stare at him.

you loved when he was so calm, looked so sure that he was safe and didn’t need to have his guard up, he just looked so genuine right now.

you didn’t want him to catch you staring so you zipped your head back to the screen before he could bat an eye at you. 

it wasn’t until you turned back to him when you felt something poking at your cheek. when you peeked at him this time, his hand was holding a chocolate covered pretzel to your mouth, waiting for you to take it. 

reluctantly, you leaned closer to him, and his hand approached your face even closer just as you bit off a piece, flinching almost when his thick fingers grazed your lips. 

swallowing down your own flusterdness, all you wanted was to pretend nothing happened, and you decided on fiddling with the blanket to help ease the embarrassment. 

keigo on the other hand was on the brink of bursting with laughter. the way you stiffened to his touch was so adorable to him, he just wanted to tease you even more.

however he was a gentlemen, and he didn’t want to overwhelm you further, so he just left it at that, a proud smirk remaining on his face. 

—————-

wrappers were littered on both of your nightstands along with empty popcorn bags that were long forgotten on the floor that you’d soon have to sweep up when you had the will. 

twinkling orange-hued fairy lights remained lit capturing the halloween ambiance as the movie began to reach its end. 

your mouth opened wide in a yawn , eyelids growing heavy and you started to feel sleepy again. 

gazing up at your boyfriend from his chest, you noticed that he also was struggling to keep awake. he blinked serenely, a frog-like blink at that, and his chest that you were using as a pillow rose and fell gently, slower and slower as midnight approached. 

keigo still felt you looking up at him, and so he tilted his head down and kissed at the crown of your head.

“maybe we should get some rest. you need your beauty sleep, sweets.” 

his voice has coated with honey as he said it, laced with chocolate kisses as he sounded so sweet and soft but definitely ready to hit the z’s. 

“m’kay.. should i try’ta pick up some of the-”

“no no, ‘s alright, i got it for you. just rest that pretty head of yours on those pillows, i’ll take care of everything.” he shushed you, cradling your jaw in his large hand as his feathers scattered, cleaning up your room, not missing a speck of trash. 

these were the best nights you could ever spend with keigo. the ones that mattered to you most were the quaint and simple ones. it wasn’t easy to catch him every night, which was why you cherished these nights in your heart, wishing that they would never end. 

the fairy lights flicked off, leaving you unable to see your winged companion. it was okay though, the warmth radiating from his body was enough to lull you to sleep. 

his strong arms snaked around your waist in a protective embrace, not planning to let go anytime soon. 

“g’night..” you slurred, “love you..” 

he pecked your cheek.

“night.. love you most, doll. sweet dreams. ” ღ

a/n: i 1000000% love summerween its now my new obsession. i wish i could do everything with this man 😞 ik the pjs that i chose to pair didn’t rlly make sense but it was all i could think of 😭 💗ty 4 reading and see u next time byebye !

[loveshotzz]

All I Really Want Is You

older!neighbor!widower! steve x fem!reader chap six/ten - a slow burn series of blurbs - updated every wednesday

I Don’t Know You, But I Want To

summary: Sometimes curiosity has consequences.

wc: 2.8k

warnings: 18+ series for future chapters, mentions of death, hints on how Steve’s wife died, bouts of self consciousnesses.

authors note: sorry guys, you knew this chapter had to happen. i promise i’ll make up for it! enjoy a few more easter eggs from @carolmunson ‘s orange colored sky in here. I’ve had so much fun talking about these two old men’s friendship with you!

🌇 <- chapter five -> chapter seven

The Masterlist / The Playlist / The Tune:

End of June

You didn’t realize when Steve asked you to water his plants, that he meant in just three short days after the almost kiss in his kitchen. The opposite schedules the two of you seem to always work made it so you hardly got a glimpse of him before he and Bandit disappeared to Starved Rock for what you learned was their annual camping trip.

The Good Morning Tough Girl texts started the next day after your number exchange, waking you up with a kaleidoscope of butterflies twisting and turning in your stomach and a smile so big it made your cheeks hurt. It helped you get over only getting to physically see him one time through your living room window before he left. Your phone had vibrated at your feet while you watered your now flourishing Ivy thanks to the new curtains you were proud to say were installed by yourself. You chanced a glance down at your lit up screen, his name flashing with a text that said: How’d I never realize how pretty my view is from the front yard?

The corners of your mouth twitched, flames licking underneath your cheeks when your eyes caught his out your window. The big dopey smile that took over his face made you giggle as he waved eagerly, dressed nice like he had been the morning you ran into him last week. You wiggled your fingers, biting your bottom lip at the way his dark navy button up looked tucked into the waist of his black slacks. The leather belt looked nicer than the last one, the silver of the buckle blinding in the setting sun. His hair was freshly done, free of any signs of those big hands of his. The stubble on his jaw was gone again, but you learned that was never for very long. 

Another buzz: Going to dinner with a client, wish it was fish tacos with you instead.

Steve feels like he won the lottery when he can see the way your face lights up from his spot in his front yard. Eddie’s voice rings loudly inside his head, sticking to every single one of his negative thoughts like glue telling him it’s okay and he finally starts to believe it, especially when he gets a text back from you.

Maybe next time 😉

It’s thunderstorming the day you go over, the key tucked away in a lockbox by his door. He gave you access by texting the code the night before with a promise to take you to dinner as a thank you when he got back. The nerves that dance inside you feel like they did the first time you came here when you stand in front of the stained glass of his front door even though he’s five hours away. 

It’s quiet, the lively energy from a few nights ago gone with the man. The cedar of his candle still lingers thick in the air and you can’t help but inhale deeply. It smells like him. You leave your shoes and umbrella on his front porch, closing the door gently like you were scared to wake someone up. The pattering of the rain on his windows fills the silence, your shoulders dropping in the serenity. Pulling your phone from your back pocket you look through your texts with the list of the rooms the plants were in. 

Only three — his office and living room on the first floor and his bedroom on the second.  

The coffee white oak floors creak under your socked feet as you take your first apprehensive steps past the entryway. He left the watering can on the kitchen island just like he said he would, your skin pebbles when you’re brought back to the last time you were in here. The sun fights to shine through the thick storm clouds outside, making the lighting that bleeds through his windows soften everything up. The water from the sink hits the metal of the can, mixing perfectly with the rain. 

You wish he was here.

The can is heavy in your hands when you stop at the doorway of the living room, the contents inside sloshing around and daring to spill onto his floor. You curse under your breath with a pause to take in the room you only got a glimpse of before. There’s an electric fireplace, tall black steel that takes up most of the wall next to the sliding glass door that leads to his small backyard. 

Two large beige area rugs cover most of the wood floors in here, a cream frayed trim lining them. Bandit’s bed sits big, fluffy and dark brown nestled by the fireplace, giving him a perfect view out the window. Strands of his lighter hairs leave behind evidence that this might be his favorite spot in the house. A woven basket filled with various chew toys that look freshly tossed in isn’t very far from it. The rain comes down harder but you can still see the spots of lime green littering the grass where the rambunctious German shepherd left his tennis balls. Spoiled.

The cognac color of his leather couch set is rich, and it shines even in the dim lighting like it was freshly lotioned. It looks like the kind of comfortable where the cushions mold against the weight of your body - soft, inviting, the one in the middle looking a little more worn in than the rest. This must be Steve’s favorite spot. 

Your eyes meet the 65” TV mounted to the wall in front of it and realize why. The coffee table matches the dark color of the floors. The candle that was the culprit for the smell of his house sitting in the middle next to three remotes lined perfectly next to each other.

There’s a long, taller companion table that sits at the other doorway that leads back out to the landing of his staircase. Framed pictures, bottles of various liquors of all shades and crystal cocktail glasses cover the top of it. 

What does he think of your place?

You try to push the intrusive thought down as you make your way to the lush Monstera plant that sits in a white pot on top of wooden legs next to the sliding glass door. Its leaves hang heavy, clearly taken care of. The deep emerald of it reminds you of what Steve’s eyes look like sometimes. The soil takes what you give it greedily, barely leaving enough for the few smaller plants that rest on shadow shelves along his gray walls. A few of them make you stand on your tiptoes to reach.

Curiosity wins on your way to refill the can, crossing the room to look at the framed pictures. You aren’t surprised when you see one of Eddie and Bandit as a puppy, it looks like the first day they brought him home. Eddie’s dimples show in a bright smile as he looks at the camera with Bandit’s big bubble gum pink tongue pressed sloppily against a clean shaven cheek.

The other is of Steve and a curly haired boy at a college graduation, they both look like they were caught in the middle of laughing at something. You can’t help your own smile when you look at it. Steve looks a little younger, a little less gray in his hair like it had only just started. He’s wearing wire rim glasses, and that crisp white dress shirt you like him in so much. He looks happy.

The last one is of Steve and Bandit. A selfie taken at sunrise, Bandits tongue sticks out and you swear he’s smiling just like his handsome owner that has him pulled against his side. A part of a tent peaks over his shoulder and you wonder if this is where they’re at right now.

You’re hit with the smell of his cologne when you open his office door, your thighs pressing together when you imagine him sitting in the big black leather chair behind an even bigger, matching colored desk. Glass cased baseball memorabilia takes space on one of his walls, along with plaques of achievements from his job. There’s framed pictures of him shaking hands of baseball players you couldn’t name, but you’re sure a normal person who liked sports could. There’s a tall bookshelf on the other side of the room. The spines all glossed, bright bold wording of sports memoir’s, marketing guides, and what looks like college course advertising books.

The floor of this room is carpeted with the same color as the area rugs in his living room. Your footsteps are a little more careful as you try not to spill any water on it as you make your way to the three hanging spider plants in the window that overlooks his front yard. 

Your nose catches a hint of the cigars you know he smokes as you get closer to his desk. He must keep them in here. A silver closed MacBook sits on top of it, another baseball — only this one is signed and kept safe in a glass case. There's a Polaroid of Bandit with a cubs hat on his head with a laughing Peach barely visible behind him. The obvious closeness of the three of them makes you realize how much he let you into his world the other night. 

A world where he wanted to kiss you.

You curse under your breath when you almost spill water on the carpet, too lost in realization of what this could be.

When you reach your final destination on the second floor, you stop at his closed door. Your hand hovers over the knob, heart hammering so hard in your chest like he was waiting for you on the other side. Taking a deep breath through your nose, you exhale through your lips - willing your nerves to give you mercy. There’s a soft click when you turn the knob and the quietest noise from the hinges when you push it open.

The crisp white of his fluffy duvet that covers his king size bed, mutes the gray of his walls. The olive green throw at the end of it that matches the area rug under the bed, the warmth of the color relaxes your senses. Your breathing evens out, your heart rate slows down. 

There’s another dog bed at the foot of his that matches the one downstairs and you wonder how often Bandit really sleeps in this one at night. The lack of hair on it compared to the other one tells you not very often. Your cheeks tingle fiercely when you see the mirror you got a glimpse of his bare chest through, your eyes quickly finding the bathroom he had come out of. 

“Jesus Christ,” you grumble to yourself, trying to push back the memory while standing alone in his bedroom. 

There’s another Monstera by his window that you can see your bedroom out of. The last one on the list. You have to pass by another large dresser on your way, even more pictures sit on top of it, taking up the space that was left next to a cherry wood watch box. Another cedar candle sits behind the framed pictures, the scent lingering in the air despite not being lit.

The plants take what’s left in the watering can, and you peek out the window just to see what he sees. The navy curtains you’d hung up are half open giving you a perfect glimpse into your room, the pile of dirty laundry you plan to do after this perfectly visible. You gulp audibly.

The can swings loosely in your hand when you walk to the dresser, a smirk already forming on your lips at the thought of what these ones will tell you about him. Your eyes land on one of him in between Eddie and Peach on what seems to be their wedding day, both of them placing sloppy kisses on either cheek. The big dopey grin face doesn’t hide the tear stains. The White Chapel sign behind them tells you it’s Vegas, and the way Steve is dressed as a much sexier Elvis only confirms your suspicions. 

Next to that one is a picture of Steve, only he looks really young- fresh out of high school young. Biting your lip into a smile at the volume of his hair, he’s leaning against a maroon BMW with pants so tight you're sure they made all the girls flustered. You shake your head with a roll of your eyes before taking in the brown curly haired girl sticking her head out of the back seat window. Another girl with honey waves pushing her head out in the small space next to her, you swear you can hear the giggles that are so evident on their faces.

Thunder cracks loudly outside, bringing you back with a jump. You’re dreading the short walk home. You glance out the window wearily before bringing your attention back to the little bit of Steve scattered over the top of his dresser. Then you see it. You see her.

The frame that holds the picture is silver, the words ‘always and forever’ etched across the bottom. It’s taken somewhere tropical and Steve looks like he’s your age in it, his jaw somehow sharper, his hair blonder. His smile is so big it shows all of his teeth, a bright yellow short sleeve button up that makes his skin look golden. The top two buttons undone revealing the chest hair you’d gotten a few glimpses of. He’s glowing. 

She’s just as beautiful, big bright green eyes and dark chestnut hair that falls in effortless curls down to her chest. They look natural, like she didn’t have to do it herself. She’s tucked into his side in what looks like seats in the back of a boat, the coral dress that flows over the curves of her body makes your stomach turn. The big rock on her hand rested purposefully on his chest tells you exactly what this picture is.  

Jealousy twists green in a tight knot inside of you, guilt you weren’t expecting makes you feel nauseous when you see what’s hanging off the corner of the frame. A dark teal rubber bracelet with the words Team ALS Chicago 2022 in white font.

Lightning flashes white hot, making something gleam and catch in the corner of your eye from his watch box. Taking a closer look, the tightening of your chest at what you find makes the air leave your lungs all at once when you see their wedding rings tucked in between the soft white cushions inside the box. 

The reality of the situation hits you like a ton of bricks. Steve had a whole life before he met you. A life with someone beautiful, someone he didn’t fall out of love with, someone who didn’t break his heart, someone who, if things were different he’d still be with.

If you moved next door in that reality, you’d just be someone he’d maybe wave to from time to time, not paying any mind to the thirty year old girl already suffering through a midlife crisis next door. The girl who moved to the city with no friends and no plan. The college drop out. The opposite of the well put together woman that belonged hanging off his chest like that, with a ring on her finger that could pay off your credit card debt and then some.

How can you compete with a ghost? The nagging feeling that you’ll always be second best already stings and he hasn’t even picked you yet.

You try to blink away the tears that threaten to spill out, feeling stupid for being this upset over what started off as a silly crush, it really shouldn’t hurt this much. The cedar that comforted you feels like it's suffocating now. Like he’s here. The thought of bringing the watering can down doesn’t even cross your mind when you leave it on the dresser to make your escape.

The breath that comes out through trembling lips is shaky, still, you're proud of the fact that you haven’t cried yet. 

Tough girl. 

When you open the front door, it's windier than when you first got here, the sun starting its disappearing act for the moon. It makes the summer storm match the one brewing inside of you. You shove your feet into your shoes before pulling the door shut behind you. You lock the key back into the box, before grabbing your umbrella. Your vision goes blurry but you don’t give into it, telling yourself it’s stupid to be so upset. The buzz of your phone in your back pocket is what stops you from taking the first step off his porch. 

Steve

Found a spot with some service on our hike, just wanted to check in. Hope you got into the house okay. Bandit says he misses you.

The dam that you’d worked so hard to build breaks, tears falling down your face like the rain falling from the sky. You sniffle, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand before you reply to him for what you tell yourself is the last time. It’ll hurt less like this, it’s better for both of you this way. At least that’s what you try to tell yourself before you hit send.

Plants are watered 👍

beta’d by: @superblysubpar

dividers by @newlips

chapter seven

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

To a Tea 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc. 

Part of the Sweet and Spicy AU 

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk. 

18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you. 

Summary:  A demanding customer grows increasingly needy.

Character:  Raymond Smith

The title is a pun, don’t @ me.

Please comment and reblog if it’s not too much. I always love getting to chat about these stories and hearing all your ideas! You all are wonderful and loved. 

You don’t often miss work, but that week, a burst pipe throws everything off. A morning spent waiting on your landlord, then the next few hours for a plumber, has things a bit off kilter. Even the next day, you’re not quite back on point. 

The patched wall next to fridge reminds you of the disaster and a dingy smell persists. You hope it doesn’t cling to you as you set off for your shift that day. If you can, you want to pick up some hours from others if their up for grabs. Harry doesn’t like Saturday’s, maybe he’ll hand over some. 

You try to leave your problems behind as you catch a bus down to the city centre. You get to the tea shop five minutes before the hour. Jenna’s wrapping up the opening tasks as you go to leave your things in the back. You tie on your apron and unlock the front door for the first customers of the day. 

At first, it’s a trickle. Never very much at all. The early risers who often come alone or if they aren’t, they don’t speak much or very loudly. The smell of fresh baking and the slow rising sun add to the lazy din. 

“Thought the special was strawberry today,” you comment as you transfer macarons from a cooled tray to the display. 

“Eh, it was but we didn’t have enough jam,” she shrugs. “Changed the sign, is all.” 

“Ah, thought my mind was lagging again. Everything’s been off since yesterday.” 

“Eh, how’s the apartment, anyhow? Marilyn said it was something about a leak?” 

“Burst pipe,” you explain, “they took out the wall above the sink, buncha clanging all day. When I tell you this place is like heaven.” 

She chuckles, “can be.” 

“There’s a formal tea booked in the Marigold Room at noon,” she intones, “forgot to mention that. With Mother’s day coming up, suppose we’ll get more bookings.” 

“Suppose,” you go to check the schedule hanging on the wall. “Party of twelve, wow.” 

“I’ll man the till. Honest, since those ladies at New Years, I’ve hated doing them.” 

“No problem, Harry should be here, shouldn’t he?” 

“Well, he’s... called in.” 

“Again?” You whine as you face her. 

“Are you really surprised?” She scoffs. 

“No one else to cover? Not even Louisa?” 

“Nah, she’s on holiday still.” 

You huff, “fine. Not much of a choose then, is it?” 

🫖

The tea room is as close to raucous as you’ve ever heard it. You have your back to the rest of the shop as you balance the stacked serving trays with an array of sponge cake, fruit, and biscuits. It’s the typical assortment for a tea party booking. 

You’ve already served the tea and the sandwiches, and dessert is the last bit, along with any further pots needed to be steeped throughout. With a partner, it isn’t hard to keep up, but alone, it’s rather overwhelming. Jenna does her best to assist but there aren’t many lulls around lunch time. 

Beyond that, the tourists are chatty. You could hardly get away to fetch each course as they wanted to chat about the culture and your suggestions of what they should do next. It’s nice that they’re friendly but still stressful. 

You put the trays on the cart and roll it around the counter. As you do, you nearly skid to a halt. In the rush, you hadn’t noticed him. Your eyes meet Raymond’s as he watches you. Intent, intense. You give an apologetic smile and nod in acknowledgement. Jenna wanted to deal with the main room, she’ll have to wipe down his table and do her best. 

You roll behind the wall and into the Marigold room. You present the tray and grab it by the ring at the top, lifting it onto the centre of the table. You roll around to gather the empty plates and cups, taking two pots for refill. 

You come back out and see Raymond standing, just as he was. He sees you too. Watching, hands folded, knuckles white, jaw set. He’s usually patient but you don’t know how long he’s been waiting. 

You roll behind the counter and sigh, clearing off the cart as Jenna steams a tea latte. 

“Can you wipe Raymond’s table?” You ask. 

“Who?” She furrows her brow. 

You glance over your shoulder toward the man in question and she follows. She rolls her eyes, “I tried, I wiped the the table. He didn’t sit.” 

“Hm, well... did you wash your hands first?” 

“Christ Almighty, what is he a child?” 

“Jen, he’s just... you know, my mom’s the same. He can’t help it.” 

“You can deal with him. I won’t be arsed,” she sniffs, “he was rude and you know I don’t got time for those ones.” 

“Jenna, I’m kinda up to my eyes,” you dump the used bags from a pot. “I know he can be prickly but just wash your hands and redo the table.” 

“Ugh, fine,” she sneers, “but you owe me.” 

“Let’s call it even,” you retort as you pour boiling water into the pots mouth. 

She shakes her head and huffs, “guess it is.” 

🫖

It’s nearly three in the afternoon. It’s quiet. Harry’s on his phone instead of doing the cups and your wiping the empty tables to keep yourself moving. The door opens and you glance over to make sure Harry’s alert. He’s not. 

Doesn’t matter. It’s him. Raymond. You stand and clutch the cloth tight in your hand as you greet him. 

“Be right with you, Raymond,” you assure him. 

He barely looks at you as he goes to wait next to his table. You go behind the counter and mutter under your breath in Harry’s direction, “...dirty cups.” You wash your hands and make sure to clink some of the empty porcelain in an effort to draw your coworker’s attention. He’s still entranced by his phone. 

You take the disinfectant wipes and go back out. You approach Raymond as he checks his watch. 

“How are you today?” You ask. 

He grumbles and shrugs, “fine.” 

“English Breakfast, black,” you declares as you finish wiping up, “usual.” 

“So you remember,” he challenges as he steps close, closer than ever, before sidling around to sit. 

“Of course, I always do,” you smile. 

“And last time?” 

“Last time...” 

“Twice.” 

You’re confused. What is he talking about? 

“I came on Tuesday and you weren’t here. Then on Thursday, you didn’t even say hello.” 

“Oh, well, I’m sorry, Raymond, it was a busy day. Tuesday, I had a personal emergency so I didn’t even know you’d been in--” 

“I’ll have my tea now,” he interjects tersely. 

“Right, tea,” you confirm and spin around. 

“Crooked strings,” he remarks dully, “again.” 

[gleamingyu]

anti-hero.

part II of the midnights series. inspired by taylor swift’s midnights. part I

pairing: music-producer!seungcheol x lawyer!fem!reader [exes-to-lovers]

genre: angst. fluff.

warnings: she/her pronouns for reader (but no specific physical characteristics). a bucketload of angst (i'm so sorry). light cursing. terrible knowledge of law stuff. so much crying yikes. miscommunication & misunderstandings. mentions of drinking and allusions to driving under the influence (do not do that ever!!). reader might seem a bit unlikeable in this chapter, but it's all part of the plot, okay?? she's trying her best. mentions of intimacy and sex (??), nothing graphic tho. slow burn. alternating povs. jihan as my lovely, beautiful, in love babies (yes they're a couple). some petnames (baby, babe). flashbacks are in italics. lower caps intended [if there’s anything i missed, please let me know!]

word count: approx. 8.1k (idk what happened)

notes: finally managed to work on my baby again. i'm sorry for the long wait but i had a lot of shit going on :/ thank you to everyone who showed love on the first part, i love each and every single on of you!! once again, likes, reblogs and comments are more than appreciated :)

summary: seungcheol wants to fix things; you want to avoid him at all costs. one thing is for sure, though. neither of you will have closure until you talk.

four months ago

the silence ringing inside seungcheol’s ears was even louder than the ambient noise of the restaurant he found himself in.

he genuinely couldn’t believe you were doing this to him again. the time was nearing 8 p.m., almost an hour later than when you were supposed to be here, and seungcheol was trying very hard to ignore the pitiful glances the waiters were not-so-subtly throwing him. he didn’t know what frustrated him more; the fact this was the seventh date you were clearly canceling on, or that you hadn’t updated him on your whereabouts in almost half an hour. if you weren’t going to show up, the least you could do is call and let seungcheol know you were gonna meet him at home.

home. funny how the word no longer brought a sense of peace in seungcheol’s heart.

just as he was about to get up and leave, seungcheol felt his phone buzz in the pocket of his pants, and his heart soared when he saw your name displayed on the screen. maybe you were going to make it after all, maybe you could still enjoy the nice evening he had planned, maybe…

“cheol… i’m so sorry.”

you were not coming.

seungcheol could tell from the apologetic tone in your voice. he didn’t even hear the next words that came from your end, whatever excuse you had to offer getting lost in the sound of his heart breaking. the grip he had on his phone was the only thing anchoring him in that moment, his eyes closed as he was trying to push down the tears that were threatening to spill out. he could hear you calling his name, are you there? but all he could offer was an “i’ll see you at home” before ending the call.

there was no part of you that was ready to face what awaited you on the other side of your apartment door.

the day hadn’t gone as you’d planned. you knew seungcheol had plans for the two of you that evening, so you had decided to wake up and go to the office earlier than usual in order to finish what you were working on in time for your date. but when you woke up that morning, you found seungcheol in the kitchen, diligently trying his best at making breakfast for the two of you. you melted at the sight of your boyfriend wearing your peach-colored apron – and nothing underneath but a pair of sweatpants – and you didn’t have the heart to turn him down when he oh-so-gleefully presented you with what could only be described as an admirable attempt at pancakes. moments like these were rare in your lives, with both of your hectic schedules and whatnot, so you sat down and enjoyed the warmth that came from the food, the sun coming in through the curtains, and seungcheol’s smile.

the sense of peace that came with spending the morning with seungcheol quickly dispersed once you arrived at the office and realized you were late, which gave your boss – mr. moon, a pathetic, greedy, and cruel excuse of a man who lived to make the lives of his employees a living hell – the perfect excuse to make you his target of the day. in addition to the case you were supposed to work on, mr. moon decided to dump on you stacks of paperwork that apparently needed to be taken care of by tonight, a task that normally a damn paralegal could take care of – no offense to paralegals.

normally you wouldn’t put up with this type of behavior. you weren’t raised to let people just walk all over you as they damn pleased. but around the office, there was one unspoken rule that everyone learned as soon as they started working here; ‘whatever mr. moon says, goes.’ besides, moon was the only person on the board of directors that could veto promotions in the firm, so until you could see the words senior associate inscribed under your name on the door of your office, you’d have to shut your mouth and take whatever was thrown at you with your head held high.

that isn’t to say that sometimes you wished mr. moon would get hit by a bus, ‘mean girls’ style. today had been one of those days, as the hours trickled by, closer and closer to when you should leave for your date with seungcheol, and yet mr. moon seemed to have a continuous stream of tasks that needed to be done, by you specifically. you realized you would never make it in time to see seungcheol, and so, tonight marked the seventh date you had to cancel because of work.

now, with the time on your phone reading 22:32, you were standing outside your apartment, bracing yourself for the talk you knew you were going to have with seungcheol. letting out a big exhale, you punched in the door code and let yourself in, the quietness of the apartment immediately enveloping you.

for a split second, you thought seungcheol might have gone to sleep already, but the faint sound of glass redirected you towards the kitchen, where you found said man standing by the kitchen island, nursing a glass of wine. you recognized the bottle mingyu had gifted him on his birthday that year, some fancy brand you’d never heard of before. as you stepped closer, the dim light of the kitchen finally illuminating you, seungcheol turned towards you, an inscrutable look on his face.

after four years of learning, knowing, loving seungcheol, you prided yourself in being able to discern what he was feeling at any given moment. but now, standing in front of him, you were scared to admit that you couldn’t read whatever feelings his eyes held. it made you feel uneasy, the way it seemed like he was looking through you, into you, and you wished you could come up with something to say to disturb the uncomfortable silence, but saying i’m sorry seemed redundant in that moment.

“a bit late, isn’t it?” seungcheol spoke up, and your heart clenched at the cold, almost mocking tone of his voice.

“i know, but i couldn’t get out faster. no matter what i said, my boss kept piling up my work and i just… i couldn’t. i’m so sorry… you know i wanted to come, more than anything. i really did,” you said, silently pleading that seungcheol would forgive you.

“i’m sure you did,” seungcheol gruffed, turning his attention back to the wine before him.

“cheol… don’t be like this, please…” you tried getting closer to him, but his body whipped towards you, his eyes narrowing at you.

“like what, exactly? angry? frustrated? sad? disappointed? i can be like that, actually, seeing as this is the seventh time in 3 months you’ve ditched me for work, apparently!” seungcheol spewed, making you take several steps back. your body tenses.

“‘apparently?’ what is that supposed to mean?”

“i don’t know, it just seems very unlikely that you’d have to sometimes spend more than twelve hours at work. i mean, you’re a lawyer, aren’t you? surely, you should know everything about workplace laws,” seungcheol bit back. he’s never spoken to you like this before, ever, the mockery in his voice surely aimed to hurt you. you felt anger bubbling in the pit of your stomach, but you tried your best to stay calm, for the sake of both of you.

“seungcheol,” you said, and you couldn’t help feeling a twinge of satisfaction seeing his eyebrows raise in surprise after hearing you use his full name. “if you have something to say, i’d rather you just do it, instead of insinuating it.”

seungcheol fell quiet for a moment, glancing down at his feet. “i meant it when i said i was held back at work, cheol. why would i lie about that?” you continued.

“for the past two years that you’ve been working there, you know i never once met any of your coworkers? i’ve never even stepped foot into your office, for god’s sake! you’ve been to my studio countless of times, you know the people i’m closest to, i’ve invited you to all the events the label organizes, so i just can’t understand! i don’t understand why you’re dead-set on keeping me away from that part of your life! and it makes me think… it makes me feel like i’m not enough, like you’re ashamed of me–”

“that’s absolutely not true, cheol!” you jumped in. you couldn’t even entertain the thought of seungcheol feeling self-conscious because of you, when it was the furthest thing you wanted. “i think you’re the most talented person i know, the most passionate, hard-working, smart… beautiful… i could never be ashamed of you.”

unshed tears were clinging to both of your lashes, heavy breathing echoing around the kitchen. how could you let things get so bad?

“it made me think there was someone else,” seungcheol breathes out.

the air gets stuck in your throat, the tears brimming in your eyes finally sliding down your face. “cheol… how could… there never was anyone! i swear, all the nights i would come home late, it was because of my work! i swear, i would never… you’re the only person that’s ever on my mind…”

silence fell over you and seungcheol, the words thrown between you slowly sinking in. seungcheol sniffled, taking a seat at the round table in the middle of the kitchen; you wished you could go to him, gather him in your arms, even though he’s too big to fit in completely, but you knew that this was probably the last thing seungcheol wanted from you in that moment.

“why don’t you quit?”

seungcheol looked up to you, the sadness in his gaze so intense it made you look away, knowing you’re to blame for it. “you complain so much about it… the hours, the work, the boss, the people. why can’t you just leave?”

you breathed in, thinking over seungcheol’s words. “because… because i love doing what i do. i feel about law the way you feel about music. it’s just the environment that’s shitty. but it’s something… that’s mine. and the kind of opportunities i got at this firm… people just starting out, like me, don’t come by them very often usually.”

there was a pause as seungcheol mulled over your words. a part of you thought, hoped, that the way the conversation was going would lead to fixing things, but then seungcheol spoke up again, and you knew. there was no fixing, not anymore.

“i was yours, too. and i would’ve never chosen music over you.”

“you say that now, but if you were put in a situation where you had to choose, i don’t think you’d have as easy of a time as you say.”

“i guess we’ll have to agree to disagree.”

and that was the end of it.

three days after your unexpected reunion with seungcheol, you find yourself back at PLEDIS, ready to tackle jihoon’s case.

the morning had gone on normally enough, with people coming in to give their testimonies regarding jihoon, his work and their relationships with him. as expected, no one had come forward with any potentially harmful or negative remarks about him, everyone applauding him for his tireless dedication to the label and the artists he worked with, as well as marveling at his seemingly innate musical talent and creativity. this was no surprise to you; having known jihoon for almost as long as you’d known seungcheol, you witnessed first-hand jihoon’s mastery of his craft, on multiple occasions. and now, with all the information you had gathered in the past three hours since arriving at PLEDIS, you were starting to feel more confident about winning this lawsuit.

initially, you had no intention of taking on jihoon’s case. the previous weekend, when mr. moon had called you in, you arrived at the firm with your mind set on demanding a break. in the past months, you might as well have changed your home address to the office, seeing as you had been working non-stop on one case after another, pulling countless sleepless nights and taking on extra paperwork as favors to some of your coworkers. and after finding out what the case was actually about, you were even more adamant about turning it down. but all the excuses you offered mr. moon were effectively shut down, leaving you almost begging the man to pass the case to someone else.

before you could use your past relationship with the other in-house music producer working at PLEDIS as an excuse, mr. moon delivered the lowest of low blows. “you know, a high profile case like this could attract lots of new clients for the firm… and put you right on the track for senior associate.”

there was no use arguing anymore after that. moon knew how much you wanted that promotion, and you were honestly not surprised to see him using it against you in order to force you into doing whatever work he wanted you to. so you shut your mouth, took the case, and then went home and cried.

yes, you cried. moving on.

seeing seungcheol again, and unexpectedly so, definitely set you a few steps back in whatever emotional healing you had done in the past few months. and it definitely made you doubt your own abilities as a lawyer. if you couldn’t put aside your personal feelings and instead focus on helping a guy who was being wrongfully accused, were you even meant to practice the law? but you had worked far too hard and sacrificed far too much to let these thoughts cloud your judgment and confidence, so you told yourself that even if you had to be in seungcheol’s proximity for the foreseeable future, your main priority was winning this case. for jihoon, and for yourself.

of course, planning to ignore the obvious feelings you still harbored for your ex-boyfriend was way easier than actually ignoring them. now, as you were gathering your things to meet wonwoo in the conference room he was stationed in, you were also mentally preparing yourself for the off-chance that you would bump into seungcheol again. considering how your luck’s been going in the past few weeks, you think the chances are pretty high.

walking through the halls of PLEDIS felt oddly familiar, and yet strange at the same time. when you and seungcheol first started dating, the label was just starting out, carrying all its business in a measly two-story building on the outskirts of town. you felt a tiny knot forming at the back of your throat, thinking how crazy it was to have witnessed the immense growth that seungcheol went through as an artist and a person, and now, to be walking amongst the fruits of the labor of his work, and so many other people’s, who built the label from the ground up.

as you grow nearer to the conference room where wonwoo was most likely waiting for you, you suddenly catch a whiff of a scent all too familiar to you. musky notes of jasmine and bergamot fill your senses, and for a brief moment, you feel an almost supernatural pull urging you to follow the indistinguishable fragrance.

you know exactly where it leads. but now is not the time.

before you can push the door open and walk into the room, your phone’s screen lights up with a text message. ‘hey honey. can you call when you have the time? she’s not having a very good day…’

you sigh, before dialing your mom’s number.

four years ago

seungcheol always smelled divine.

over the years, you’d heard so many of your friends go on and on about their boyfriends’ perfumes, and how once they found the right scent, they could charm the pants off of them with just the smell of their cologne. to you, that idea seemed entirely far-fetched, because, after all, people aren’t dogs. who in their right mind would base their selection of a partner on something as feeble as smell? even more so, an artificial smell, that didn’t even last forever.

clearly, since a few weeks ago, you haven’t been in your right mind, because you swore there was nothing better in this world than the way seungcheol smelled.

all your friends kept telling you that they’d never seen you act like this before. the honeymoon phase of your relationship had hit you pretty hard, and you were completely smitten with cheol. his smile, his eyes, his dimples, his laugh, his hair, his charm… and his scent, you couldn’t get enough of him. and now, as you were making your way towards PLEDIS together, you couldn’t help but wish you could nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck and stay there forever.

it was your first time seeing where seungcheol worked. you had been wanting to see his studio ever since he had first told you about his job (and proved that he wasn’t one of those wannabe soundcloud rappers or whatever), but considering the label wasn’t exactly in a central location, getting there proved slightly difficult. not to mention that most days, your classes ran pretty late, and seungcheol shared his studio with jihoon, the other music producer at PLEDIS, which meant you couldn’t pop in whenever you had a window of free time, so as to not disturb them.

that night, however, seungcheol decided you deserved a break from your studies, and since your midterms were coming up, it might have been one of the last times you could afford to go out before getting swept up in the craziness of exam season. so after your last class of the day, seungcheol picked you up from campus and drove you outside of town, where PLEDIS stood.

“are you absolutely sure it’s alright for me to be here? i don’t want you to get in trouble with your… superiors, if that’s what you call them,” you said, walking up the stairs closely behind cheol.

“i already told you, it’s fine! besides, you’re not planning to steal any confidential information and spread it online, are you?” he teased, stopping in front of a door that you assumed was his studio.

“hmm, i don’t know… what makes you think i’m not secretly working for one of your competitors?”

seungcheol chuckled, shaking his head, before looking back at you. “oh, baby, you and i both know you like me too much to hurt me so,” he said, finally unlocking the door and letting you step inside.

well, he wasn’t wrong.

to most people, seungcheol and jihoon’s studio might not have looked like much. it held all the standard recording and mixing equipment one would expect to find there, along with personal touches from the boys, like pictures with their friends, some posters, a couple of cd racks, as well as a couch and two huge leather desk chairs. one the other side, inside the recording booth, you could see a keyboard, a couple of guitars, and a drum set, as well as some microphones, of course. to someone who’s never stepped foot in a recording studio before, like you, the place was amazing. and not just because cheol worked in there.

“i know it’s not a lot…” seungcheol mumbles, moving besides you, his arm stretched out in a way that said you could walk around.

your hands grazed the equipment on his desk, holding yourself back in fear of breaking something. “i like it, cheol. it’s homely, and cozy. definitely a good space to get those creative juices flowing,” you gave him a genuine smile, which you could tell instantly put him at ease from the way his shoulders visibly relaxed. he grinned at you, pulling up next to you by the sound board.

“you wanna see how the magic happens?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows. you couldn’t help but groan, rolling your eyes.

“cheol, that was so cheesy… but yes, i do. please,” you said, giddy smiles taking over both of your faces.

“okay! come here,” he said, pulling you into his lap as he sat down in his desk chair. you felt your cheeks heat up at his actions, so natural and nonchalant, totally unaware of the effect he had on you. how could he be so oblivious, and quite literally torture you so? being so close to him now, his cologne starting to overpower your senses, you were sure to go dizzy.

“i’m gonna use one of the demos i have here, but for the record, i did not play anything for you while you were here, got it?” seungcheol said, opening an audio file on his laptop.

“yes, sir!” you gave him a wink, his ears turning red. cute.

for the next couple of minutes, seungcheol gives you a rundown on the soundboard, showing you what goes into recording and mixing a song, and even letting you play around with the different settings for pitch and autotune. even though it was all very interesting, nothing compared to just watching seungcheol’s excitement and passion while talking about music. every time your conversations would somehow turn towards music, his face would light up like a kid’s on christmas morning, his whole body animatedly gesturing while he rattled on about his favorite artists and composers, whatever new album came out that week, and even why a song with a good bass line is guaranteed to become a hit (yes, that was an actual discussion the two of you had once). seeing the obvious love he harbored for this art form made you ten times more enamored with him. you could already tell his passion and hard work were going to take him places, and you couldn’t wait to see it all.

“cheol? how did you know you wanted to do music?” you asked, turning to look up at your boyfriend.

“oh, wow, we’re going for the deep stuff, huh?” he laughed.

“you don’t have to share if you don’t want to, i was just curious… you always talk so passionately about it, i could just tell it means a lot to you.”

seungcheol sighed, leaning back into the chair. “it’s alright. i really don’t know how i got here, to be honest. i’ve always been interested in music, and found myself writing and experimenting with sound. one day, i just knew that i couldn’t really picture myself doing anything else. so i focused on that and worked my ass off, i guess.”

“well, clearly?! we’re sitting in your own studio! i’d say you’re doing pretty great,” you exclaimed, smiling at seungcheol’s blushing cheeks. “you should be proud of yourself, cheol, really.”

seungcheol can’t even look at you right now, too overcome with giddiness at the onslaught of compliments you’re suddenly throwing his way. instead, he shoves his face in the crook of your neck, mumbling a quiet ‘thanks.’

“is it hard to come up with new music?” you continue, playing with the strings of the hoodie he was wearing.

“hmm, it depends,” his voice is muffled, and you flinch at the ticklish feeling of his breath fanning on your neck. “there are days when i can put down a whole song and melody at once; sometimes it takes me weeks to be satisfied with a song i’m working on. but lately i’ve been feeling more… inspired than usual, so it’s been going pretty well.”

you turn your face towards him, a teasing smile stretching across your lips. “oh, really? how come?”

seungcheol returns your smile, his fingers pressing slightly harder into your skin where they sat on your waist. “just someone i met recently… they’re really nice and beautiful and funny and smart,” now it was your turn to grow shy, feeling your cheeks and chest grow warm at the implication of his words. “but i think jihoon is growing tired of all the ballads i’ve been writing.”

you both fall into a fit of giggles, your faces so impossibly close, your noses brush. “poor jihoon… whatever will he do?” you whisper, and before you can breathe in again, seungcheol’s lips fall against yours.

the air in your lungs dissipates in seconds. your entire body is ablaze, and you swear your hearing no longer registers the music playing from seungcheol’s laptop, instead becoming attuned to the sound of cheol’s soft sighs. you want this moment to last forever, to melt into his embrace, ingrain yourself into his very existence. his lips grow more and more fervent against yours, and you swear your mind goes blank, the only thought even going through your head in that moment a chant of his name. cheol, cheol, cheol, cheol…

later that night, once you’re home, getting ready for bed, you catch a whiff of seungcheol’s cologne again, the scents of his perfume imbued into your sweatshirt. you can’t help but smile like an idiot.

you didn’t wash that sweatshirt for a week after.

no matter how much seungcheol loved his friends, he couldn’t go on another second hearing jeonghan and joshua discuss whether they should choose lilies or hydrangeas for their wedding (because the good ol’ rose is too much of a cliche, apparently, according to joshua).

an exasperated sigh escaped him, his whole body slouching from the weight of the gloom he was carrying. jeonghan and joshua, who had been animatedly bantering over wedding preparations, suddenly go quiet, their heads snapping up to look at their friend. if this was a cartoon, they swore you would see a huge, gray cloud hanging above his head.

“alright, you gotta tell us what’s got you all pouty and gloomy, because this? this is just sad, cheol,” said joshua, gesturing at seungcheol’s crouched figure.

he sighed again, but straightened his back this time. the truth was, nothing particularly bad had happened today. but the day hadn’t gone as seungcheol had initially planned.

that morning, seungcheol had arrived at work determined to talk to you. seeing you again earlier that week had broken down the walls seungcheol had put up in the months following your breakup, and all the emotions he had tried pushing behind those walls – anger, sadness, frustration, yearning, love – were slowly, but surely, seeping back in. there was no point denying it anymore; seungcheol was not ready to let go just yet.

taking jihoon’s advice to heart, he decided to ‘grow some balls’ and initiate a discussion with you, one that you probably should’ve had before any of the shit that went down between the two of you could’ve gone down. seungcheol knew, deep down, that you were hiding something, and thought that once both of your cards were out on the table, you could either work on fixing what’s been broken, or you could both gain some closure and move on with your lives.

seungcheol was desperately hoping for the first option.

either way, whatever plans seungcheol had made were quickly put on hold when he arrived at his meeting and only found your colleague, jeon wonwoo, waiting for him in the conference room. he’d made himself look like an idiot, bluntly asking about your whereabouts, disappointment clear on his face at your lack of presence, which only got him an inscrutable look from wonwoo (who made a mental note to check in with you about this little outburst, for safety reasons). wonwoo hadn’t mentioned anything about you throughout the interview, which in retrospect, seungcheol realized, was more than normal, considering wonwoo probably had no idea that the two of you even dated before. if anyone at your firm would’ve known about your previous relationship, he imagines you wouldn’t even be here, working on this case. conflict of interest and all.

in the end, seungcheol had no idea whether you were even at PLEDIS at all, and didn’t even have time to ask around for you, having a number of recording sessions planned for the rest of the morning. it wasn’t until jeonghan called and invited him out for lunch with him and joshua, that seungcheol left his studio again. when his friends greeted him outside the restaurant they decided on, they held back from commenting on his sulky expression.

seungcheol didn’t tell them that he had half a mind to turn down their invitation when he heard where the couple wanted to meet. IL GRATO was your favorite place in town (you used to say because it was where seungcheol had taken you on your first date), and the restaurant held plenty of the many happy memories you and seungcheol had made over the years. obviously, seungcheol wasn’t particularly keen on revisiting them today, but he didn’t want to seem more pathetic than he already felt, so he shut up and pretended everything was fine.

that didn’t last long, evidently.

“why don’t you just call her? she’s obligated to answer, now that she’s working on jihoon’s situation, right? ask to schedule a meeting with her or something,” jeonghan said, sipping on his glass of prosecco.

“and what reason could i give her for a meeting? that jeon dude already asked me anything he could about jihoon, so i can’t use anything about the case,” seungcheol mumbled. “and saying i wanna discuss the clear unresolved feelings left between us is guaranteed to get her to hang up on me.”

joshua, who had been intently listening to seungcheol’s whines, suddenly perks up, grabbing seungcheol’s shoulder. “cheol, didn’t you mention jeon said he still had some interviews lined up after lunch time?”

seungcheol frowned. “yeah? what difference does it make?”

“well, dumbass, if Y/N was in fact at PLEDIS all this time, that means that she’s probably in one of the conference rooms on the same floor as him. and since most staff clock out at 5 p.m., i’d say you still have about half an hour to go back, find her, and talk to her. like you said you wanted,” joshua explained pointedly, giving seungcheol a look that screamed you have to do it or else i will hurt you.

joshua was right. how could he have been so stupid, to completely overlook what wonwoo had mentioned off-handedly at the end of their meeting. he hadn’t even considered the possibility that you and wonwoo had split up to cover more ground in collecting testimonies, and now he was at risk of completely missing his chance to see you, unless he hauled ass to PLEDIS immediately.

seungcheol shot up from his seat, quickly gathering his things and throwing his credit card on the table, before dashing for the front door. “you guys are the best! lunch is on me!” he shouted, before taking off running.

jeonghan and joshua look at each other, before bursting into giggles. jeonghan sighs, “i need them to resolve this issue before the wedding, really. i won’t be able to handle it if seungcheol mopes around during the whole ceremony.”

joshua cooed, rolling his eyes. “you simply can’t rush love, babe,” he said, pressing a quick kiss to his lover’s cheek.

jeonghan rolled his eyes, turning his attention to the spreadsheet full of wedding prep details laid out on the table. a mischievous glint gleamed in his eyes, as he turned to look at joshua. “so, my dear joshuji, how about lilies for the flower displays?”

“JEONGHAN, I SAID NO!”

nine months ago

when you and seungcheol arrived at IL GRATO, jeonghan and joshua were already inside, patiently waiting at the table they had booked for your party of four, wearing two oddly calm smiles on their faces.

to say you and seungcheol weren’t suspicious at all would be a lie.

jeonghan had called earlier that week to invite the two of you on a double date that weekend – which wasn’t unusual, since the four of you had been going on dates like these since forever  – but what had put you and seungcheol on edge was the ‘news’ jeonghan mentioned he and joshua had to share.

you and seungcheol had been going through a rough patch in the past two weeks, and this fact wasn’t unknown to your group of friends. the two of you were not the type to air out your dirty laundry, so for your friends to notice the growing tension between you meant that things were truly going badly. even though neither you or seungcheol had verbalized this to each other, you were both worried that tonight’s double date was just a cover up for an intervention, aimed to make you and seungcheol work through whatever it was bothering you two. jeonghan and joshua were seungcheol’s oldest and closest friends, and they never shied away from confronting seungcheol (and you, after you were welcomed into their friend group), especially when it came to his well-being, both physical and mental. you had been preparing your defense all week, just in case they decided to bring the situation up (and you also realized how desperately you needed a break from work).

after settling in and exchanging common pleasantries about your lives and work, the four of you put in your orders (jeonghan ordering the most expensive bottle of champagne on the menu, much to yours and seungcheol’s surprise), and after the waiter brought the drinks along, you decided to bite the bullet and ask the question that had been bothering you all week.

“so, you two said you had some news to share, right?”

jeonghan and joshua exchange a secretive look, and you only just notice the blush that seems to grace their faces. they looked like teenagers in love. you couldn’t help but feel a slight twinge of envy.

“i guess there’s no reason to beat around the bush…” joshua said, looking again towards jeonghan.

“we’re getting married!” the other continues, leaning back into his seat to throw an arm around joshua, grinning from ear to ear.

silence falls over the table, as you and seungcheol drink in jeonghan’s revelation. you jump out of your seat, genuine excitement and joy overtaking you, as you walk around the table to hug and congratulate the two men. a string of high-pitched ‘oh my gods’ leave your lips, gaining the attention of a few other restaurant patrons, but you honestly couldn’t care less, too happy for your dear friends to pay attention to them.

as you make your way back to your seat, holding tightly onto joshua’s hand, you notice that seungcheol was eerily quiet, silently watching his friends, his eyes wide and unblinking. you lay a hand onto his arm, squeezing. “cheol… aren’t you going to say something?” you whisper.

that seems to snap him out of his daze, a gasp escaping him, before his hands come up to cover his face. you, joshua, and jeonghan exchange a concerned look, completely blindsided by seungcheol’s unexpected reaction, since he was as one of jeonghan and joshua’s loudest supporters (he had been betting on the two of them getting together since they were teenagers). but before either of you can say something else, seungcheol looks up, unshed tears swimming along his lash line.

“i’m sorry, i just…” he pauses, as if trying to find the right words. “i just can’t… believe… that neither of you told me! you traitors! you were planning to get engaged and i just find out at the same time as everyone else?” seungcheol pouts, his dramatics leaving the rest of you in tears.

“hey! what is that supposed to mean?” you tease, trying to calm your laughter down.

“no offense, baby, but me and the boys? we have history,” seungcheol winks, before turning back to his friends. “which means i should have priority to all life-changing news in your lives!”

the table falls into laughter once again, before jeonghan and joshua proceed to give you and seungcheol all the details he was claiming they had been keeping away from him. the rest of the evening goes like this, drinks and food shared around, and you almost forget about whatever problems your own relationship has been having, too busy reveling in the love radiating from the couple in front of you.

that night, on the drive home, you and seungcheol fall into comfortable silence, a first in the past weeks. you don’t know if it’s the buzz from the alcohol you drank, or the crooning voice of whatever singer was playing on the radio, but you can’t help but look over to seungcheol’s side, your eyes glancing over the side of his face. he was so handsome, cheeks blushed and hair messy from tonight’s laughter. you wanted to lean over and run the tips of your fingers over the edges of his face, pour everything you couldn’t say into just one touch. please forgive me, just trust me…

“what’s the staring for?” seungcheol speaks, and you whip your head around, looking out the window on your side.

“ah, i wasn’t staring!” you mumble, feeling your face grow hot. “was just thinking… about tonight.”

he smiles, briefly glancing your way. “me too,” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

a beat passes before seungcheol speaks up again. “when we get married, what would you want our wedding to be like?”

your heart swells when you realize he said ‘when’ instead of ‘if,’ but you can’t help but tease him a little bit. “‘when?’ i haven’t even said ‘yes’ yet, cheollie,” you smirk, turning your face towards him again.

evidently, seungcheol catches onto your little joke, but he plays into it. “emphasis on ‘yet’, baby. now answer the question!”

“okay, okay,” you chuckle. “well, i think i’d like something small… just our closest family and friends… maybe somewhere outside the city, like in the countryside, something like that,” you say decidedly, already daydreaming about all the possibilities.

“what about the beach? i think a beach wedding would be so cool… do you think your mom would let us have it at her beach house?” seungcheol says, an excited glimmer evident in his eyes.

he completely misses how your face falls at the mention of your mother, but you quickly mask it by nonchalantly agreeing with him. “i don’t see why not, she would probably love that…”

the rest of the drive goes by fast, the two of you bantering over silly wedding things like flowers, color palettes, and music selection (obviously), before you finally arrive home. inside, you both move lazily, drunk on love – or the leftover champagne in your systems – slowly undressing, stealing kisses, exchanging giggles and tantalizing looks… for the first time in weeks, you feel a sense of peace cover you, a quiet voice in the back of your mind assuring you that everything was going to be alright, and you embrace the feeling, falling into seungcheol as he whispers sweet nothings into your ears.

just as you’re about to fall into bed, your phone starts ringing from the floor of the bedroom, and at first you ignore it, too caught up in the feeling of seungcheol’s mouth against you, but the noise is insistent, and cheol detaches from you with a groan, urging you to see who’s bothering you in the middle of the night.

seungcheol can’t see the name on your screen, but when you tell him it’s your mom, he motions for you to take the call – she wouldn’t call this late unless there was an emergency, after all – but much to his surprise, you shuffle to find a shirt to put on, before you leave the room to take the call. from the bedroom, he can only hear muffled snippets of your conversation, and the tone of your voice is too ambiguous for him to guess how the talk is going.

when you come back, he doesn’t bring up the fact that you’d never gone to another room to take a call before. ever.

as soon as the clock on the wall reads 5 p.m., you bring the final interview you had scheduled for the day to an end, and as you say your goodbyes to the woman from the marketing department, wonwoo walks into the conference room, struggling to balance a stack of papers in his hands. you rush towards him, picking up part of the papers.

“woah, are these all the testimonies from your part of the staff?” you question, marveling at the size of the stack wonwoo brought in.

“yeah, crazy, isn’t it? i still can’t believe so many people came forward for this guy,” wonwoo replies, setting down his shoulder bag on the table. his shoulders seem tense, a whole day sitting at a desk clearly taking a toll on him.

“well, he’s clearly appreciated. everyone who i talked with only had good things to say about him,” you say nonchalantly, flicking through the papers, trying to pretend like you weren’t already aware of jihoon’s stellar reputation. each piece of paper seemed to be a reformulation of what the previous person mentioned, everybody mentioning similar qualities and compliments regarding him.

after you and wonwoo go over the information you both collected today, making a game plan for the next steps that needed to be taken, you both gather your things to finally go home for the day, exhaustion setting in. although the day hadn’t been particularly stressful, the possibility of bumping into seungcheol had caused you much more anxiety than usual, and you honestly couldn’t wait to get out of here and finally be able to breathe normally.

as you wait for the elevator – which seems to be taking its sweet time, moving in slow motion to the seventh floor – you hear wonwoo mumble under his breath, before he lets out an “oh, fucking hell.” ever the proper gentleman, he catches himself, and swiftly apologizes for his choice of words.

you chuckle, waving your hand to dismiss his unnecessary apology. “what’s wrong?”

“i’m missing some documents… i think i left them in the room i was in this morning, i’ll go after them. you go ahead and get going, i don’t want to hold you back any longer,” he explains, already turning around to head for the conference room.

“are you sure? i don’t mind wa–”

“i’m sure! go, you deserve to rest,” he shouts, disappearing around the corner of the hallway.

you sigh, shaking your head, but appreciating the gesture nevertheless. the elevator bell dings, and the doors open to reveal an empty cabin. you breathe out a sigh of relief, thankful for the silence. you press the button for the ground floor, and close your eyes, leaning against the back wall of the elevator, hoping to ease the sting that came from staring into a computer screen for a whole day.

your peace and quiet is short-lived however, as the elevator only manages to go down to the sixth floor before stopping again. you sigh, preparing yourself for the onslaught of tired employees who were most likely rushing to get home as well. however, when you open your eyes, there’s only one other pair staring into yours, and you feel all the air inside your lungs dissipating, leaving you breathless.

seungcheol is standing in front of you, wearing an equally speechless look on his face. the two of you stare at each other, almost as if you’re scared to move, in fear of disrupting the karmic force that brought this moment upon you even more. you wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole, feeling completely unprepared for this situation. you’d thought you were finally out of the woods, that you’d be able to go home in peace and not think about the case, about cheol, about anything anymore, at least for tonight.

clearly, the universe had other plans for you.

seungcheol seems to snap out of his daze when the doors of the elevator start to close again, his arm shooting out to stop them and finally stepping inside. as the doors close behind him and the elevator resumes its course downwards, you suddenly feel like the cabin is ten times smaller than it was a few moments ago, your body instinctively moving to one of the corners of the elevator. seungcheol naturally takes over the corner opposite from you, and you can feel his eyes on you with every step he takes.

you can’t fucking breathe, and you can’t believe he still has such a hold over your body.

“hi.”

“hi.”

you both say it at the same time, and under different circumstances, the two of you might’ve erupted in giggles at the coincidence. in this moment, however, the tension between you is so palpable, it’s almost constricting.

“how’s jihoon’s case going?” seungcheol asks, and you feel almost grateful for him taking the initiative to fill the silence.

“it’s good, yeah. we had a productive day, gathered a lot of info,” you say, clearing your throat. why were you being so goddamn awkward?

seungcheol nods, humming, silence filling the space once again. you dared to sneak a glance in his direction, noticing his furrowed brows and pursed mouth. four months could not erase everything you learned about cheol in four years, and you immediately recognized his ‘i’m trying to find the right words’ look. you sigh, knowing exactly what’s inevitably coming, so you decide to put seungcheol out of his misery.

“seungcheol,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. your eyes meet in the quiet of the elevator. “just ask me. just ask me what’s bothering you. at this point, should we even beat around the bush with each other anymore?”

seungcheol opens his mouth, then decides against it. he shakes his head, sighing, before looking back at you. “i’m not ready to let go yet,” he murmurs.

your voice trembles as you try to keep your tears at bay. “cheol… why are you doing this? i mean, why are you doing this to yourself?! things haven’t been working out between us for months, and i– i was terrible to you! you should let me go, why can’t you just… leave me alone?”

seungcheol’s eyes widen, an almost crazed glint appearing behind them. “leave– leave you alone? are you fucking kidding me?” his voice rises in volume, as he takes a few steps closer. “i can’t leave you alone, because i gave you four years of my fucking life, yeah? and in those years i learned all there is to know about you. unless everything you’ve ever told me was just an act, i’ve learned how to tell when you’re lying, and i’ve learned how to tell when you’re struggling, and you know what? you’re doing both right now!”

your hands start shaking, frustration bubbling inside your chest. “i don’t need you looking out for me, alright? i can take care of myself! and i’m fine, for your information!”

“bullshit! you’re not fine, and you know why? because for three years, everything was perfectly fine with us, and then all of a sudden last year, something happened, yeah? i don’t know what exactly, because you won’t fucking tell me, but something happened that made you squeamish around me, distant, paranoid, and– and careless! you stopped caring about me, about us!”

“i didn’t stop caring!”  you croaked, your throat raw from holding back your tears. seungcheol’s eyes softened slightly at the sight of your tears finally let loose on your cheeks. “i just… i…”

seungcheol closes the last of the distance between you, standing right in front of you now. “Y/N… baby… if you’re in some sort of trouble, please… just tell me. there’s nothing you could say that could scare me or drive me away. i know you can take care of yourself, but you don’t have to! please, just… no more lies, please…”

your eyes meet his, the sincerity and love swimming in them bringing even more tears to your eyes. you could just tell him right now, let everything that’s been weighing down on you for the past year spill out all at once… but you can’t. you would never forgive yourself to come in between seungcheol and his work, his dreams… your burdens couldn’t be his burdens. you just can’t allow it.

“cheol… i ca–”

“okay, i need you to take five steps away from her, or i will physically remove you, hyung. no matter that you are older and stronger than me,” comes a voice from your right. in your fight-induced stupor, neither you nor seungcheol had realized that the elevator had reached the ground floor, the doors opening to reveal one of your favorite people on earth.

thank god for boo seungkwan.

[cmdrfupa]

i. Not Today

Toji x Reader

Working alone was always the rule. No one to slow you down when you had to run and no one for him to save when shit hit the fan. That's until the best in the game were needed together.

Former Mercenary/Hitman Toji Fushiguro only wants to make enough to disappear in the next year as the job is no longer worth the risk. You’ve found a way to just enjoy the thrill of the con as a professional grifter and former mafia fixer. Now forced to find out just how deep the world of art dealings goes as your next mark is far more twisted than you realized.

an: I wish I could tell you that I'll stop thinking about Toji but we know that’ll never happen. I've been revisiting games and media lately where the lead is some former army man with little to lose and I saw our dark-haired dilf immediately. Something felt right about it and here we are! A JJK AU where some of our faves will make an appearance.

CW for the series: adult themes, use of alcohol and drugs, sexual undertones, violence, full blown mature themes. Will be updated as necessary.

Dividers from the lovely @/saradika-graphics

Shiu made the mistake of scheduling Toji’s meeting at the same time as yours. He says your meeting was the mistake but let's be real. 

The only thing you wanted to do was avoid the smug bastard in the hallway. Which worked til now.

“Kong. I know I owe you, but this can't be what you're cashing in on.” the up and down you gave Toji made him grin.

“Ouch, princess. What if I'm the man you've been waiting for?”

“Then I’ll off myself and try again in my next reincarnation. Kong.” you looked back over to your already stressed friend of over a decade.

“Sorry kid. I need the best and both of you are my best. It won’t hurt to play nice.”  Shiu opened a fresh pack of cigarettes, effortlessly shaking one out and putting it in his mouth. 

Toji grabbed the lighter, igniting the flame for Shiu. “If you’re worried about your safety, you’re safe with me, doll face. It’s only for one night.” 

Bewildered was an understatement as Shiu shook his head, “A month.” 

“No can do, Shi. A month is fucking nuts.” 

You smiled, sitting on Shiu’s desk as Toji paced to the window. “Worried I won’t be able to protect you, Prince Charming? You're safe with me.” 

If the daggers in his eyes had their way, you would’ve felt them pierce your chest. “You’re cute but don’t push me.”

“Is someone getting angys?”

“Angys? Are you a child?”

“No, but I can beat your ass like a grown man.”

Grabbing the largest book on his desk, Shiu slammed it down with little effort. “Fucks sake, shut up. The both of you.” 

You swiftly jumped off his desk, shifting your attention back to the cigarette hanging from his lips, Toji came and stood beside you. It began to feel like a disciplinary meeting with the headmaster. 

“Look. It's a month-long job minimum. Per diem with an 800,000 payout at the end. They need a charmer and a fucking beast to retrieve some goods and get intel so you two need to work as a couple to get this done. Either you both take it, or it's off the table and you won't have shit to do for the next 3 months.”

“800 split?” you questioned.

“No. Per person.” 

800,000 would give you a more than comfy cushion to sit on for maybe a month. Then you'd get tired of the cushion and beg Shiu for something to keep you busy. There was never an end to the thrill of scamming the ultra-rich and occasionally watching the life drain from a few. 

“I will not be your babysitter during this. You're a grown-ass woman and I refuse to have a brat slow me down. Understood?”

He was so pretty in the off-white cable-knit sweater that swallowed him but that mouth was going to have you punching his throat in a matter of minutes. 

“I'm willing to do the job as long as your chained puppy can treat me like an adult. I can handle myself.” 

“Already the first steps towards being a loving couple. You're gonna be fine, kids.” Shiu stepped between you two, smiling as if he were a proud parent. He squeezed your shoulders. “Everything you need will be sent over in 2 hours. I have the twins working on your background stories and covers. You leave at the end of the week.”

Strength. Resilience. Mindfulness. Breathe.

“Why don't we get matching shirts so they know that you're mine? Sound good, sweetie?" The vibrato in the pet name gave your resolve a run for its money. Fortunately, the smug look on his face once you looked at him dried you back up. 

“Yeah! I think ‘I’m with dumbass’ would look cute in bubble letters on a baby tee, no?” 

The flight was more than perfect. Business class with every accommodation known to man thanks to Shiu knowing you would never do anything less. You settled into the second half of your flight preparing to get a little rest before landing. 

“Toji? Can you wake me when they come around with dining options?” you lowered the partition to find Toji intently reading a home improvement magazine.

“Just tell me what you want and I’ll order so I can wake you when it's here.”

“I don't know what they'll be serving. Just wake me—”

“There's an International and Japanese cuisine menu. Either beef filet steak with a red wine sauce and a side autumn plate or pasta gratin with chum salmon & black truffles with roasted pumpkin.” finally looking up from the magazine, his deadpan gaze met your face. “The Japanese cuisine has Wagyu curry with eggplant and mitsuba and sansho peppers or grilled black cod, a crab omelet with grilled shiitake and taro. What sounds good.” 

Taken aback, you bat your lashes trying to digest this robotic answer to your request.

“Did you not hear me?” 

“I did. You just.. Did you study the menu or something.” you rolled the partition down completely, studying the expressionless man. 

“It rolled across the screen earlier and I took a mental note of it. So, can you tell me so I can tell the cute attendant when I call for her to come back? She's a busy woman.” 

A sigh so deep you felt your nervous system reboot as you rolled your eyes. 

“Tell your girlfriend I’d like the grilled black cod meal please.”

“Will do. I'll try to get you an extra omelet for being such a supportive wife as I date around. Thank you, sweetheart.” Toji winked and rolled up the partition with a grin like a Cheshire cat spread across his mug. “Sweet dreams.” 

“You’ve gotta hurry up, doll face. The race starts in 30 minutes and the driver is pulling up any minute now. Let's go” Toji yelled through the hall as he made his way to your room in the villa. His loafers lightly clacked along the polished granite floors as he walked into your room. “You don't need a whole canister of paint for makeup. Just put some blush on and let's get moving.” 

“Can’t rush perfection, Fushiguro. And I'm just putting on my earrings. Relax.” you popped your head from the bathroom and raised your brows. “Wow. You clean up nicely. I thought you could only wear those tight-ass Uniqlo t-shirts.” 

A crisp, light blue button-down that could only do so much to hide his muscular build, and a pair of deep indigo chino pants to round off the fit. “Funny. Now can you please come on? We’re on a time crunch and I don't want to be around those old rotting money bags for longer than necessary.” 

Rolling your eyes as you went back to looking in the mirror one more time, you walked out to the bedroom. “Alright. Let's go.” 

Toji didn't have to say anything when his eyes did the talking for him. “You gotta wear shit like this more often. I'll be more open to actually listening to your words if you do.” 

You grimaced as you walked past him to the front door. “Please stop talking.” You smiled as you walked out, the driver holding the car door open as you gave him a warm thank you before sliding in.

Toji got in behind you, getting strapped in as you did. When given the clear, the driver pulled off. 

 “Doll face.”

“What, Toji.”

“Being married to you is fun. Best open relationship ever.”

Toji winked before going through his phone, going over the files one more time.

  “God. If you exist, please turn this shit over right now,” you whined as the car whirled down the road.

The sun hangs high over Monza’s glittering skyline, casting a golden sheen over the harbor and its rows of yachts. The thunderous roar of F1 engines echoed through the streets, as sleek cars zip past. The race is in full swing, but the real spectacle isn't on the track—it's in the VIP section.

The third row to the left of the podium sat your target: KK. 

Notorious organized crime affiliation who tends to dabble in high-stakes art deals, illicit trades, and other illegal acts. 

He smiled like a kid in a candy store watching how everyone tried to please his every desire. Two men stood behind him as he continued to conversate with the crowd around him.  

You both weaved through the crowd with practiced grace. Toji exchanges pleasantries with a collector while you check your reflection in the mirrored windows of the luxury suite, your gaze never drifting far from KK.

Feigning boredom, you let out a resounding sigh, twirling around to face Toji. “Formula One. I’ll never understand the appeal. It’s all so... mechanical.”

Expressed loud enough for nearby guests to hear, you elicited a few amused looks.

“You said the same thing about abstract art and now New York and half of Japan want your opinion on it.”

Toji’s laugh is light, effortless like he's done this a thousand times. 

Your banter catches the ear of Hashime, one of KK’s bodyguards, who’s leaning against a railing with an air of casual authority. 

His interest now piqued, he glances between the two. Toji catches Hashime’s eye and offers a polite nod. He returns the nod and steps toward you both.

The pale blue-haired minion seized you up “You’re into art, huh? Never understood it myself. What’s the secret to knowing if something’s worth millions or not?” 

“Everyone’s chasing an enigma. If you can give them a story full of mystery and wonder, more will want it. If you can do that, then you can sell a painting to a blind man.” 

Joining smoothly, Toji wrapped his arm around your waist smiling. “Rare pieces, hard-to-find items, things worth killing for. They have a way of getting it all.”  

“I've heard Mr. KK over there has some of the best pieces to never be seen by the public. What I would give to just catch a glimpse.” Your voice lowered.

“He doesn't just let anyone see the collection.”

Leaning in slightly, you dropped your tone, whispering more intimately. “Of course not. Someone with his... connections... would appreciate only the most discerning eyes.”

Hashime's eyes narrow, his guard raised. You felt the energy shift, but remained calm, letting Toji take the lead from this point. 

“Stay here.” Hashime stepped away, walking towards KK.

Apprehension settled into your gut as you watched KKs dark eyes find you and Toji. Refusing to falter, you smiled and placed your hand on Toji’s abs. “You think this’ll work?”

“Of course it will. We just have to sell him on the most dangerous art deal of his life. He can't say no to what we have.”

A brief moment of calculation crosses his face, and then he stands, straightening his jacket. KK approaches you, a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes forming on his lips before he reaches out to take your hand. You obliged as he kissed your knuckles before shaking Toji’s hand. 

  “I tend to know everyone who breathes air in the art world yet neither of you look familiar.” KK smiled, placing his hands back in his pockets. 

  “If everyone knew us, I’d say we were doing awful at our job.”

KK looked over at Hashime and gave an almost girlish laugh as he raised his champagne.

“Hard to find. Good. After the race, let's talk.” He nodded, giving Hashime the go to give you his business card. Mozying back to his seat, you looked down at his card:

  Retrieval Services

Kenjaku

IT/JP/US

[whatyadrawin]

The Fruit After The Flesh 18+ -Chapter 16

Minors DNI!

Masterlist

Approximately 4,061 words

Pairing: Thomas Hewitt (Headcanon) x AFAB reader

This chapters Warnings:  Sexual language and visual depiction of sexual acts, foul language, panic attack experience. This is Slasher smut, be mindful of that and use your discretion.

A/n: I'm going to likely end this series in the next few chapters as it is coming to a natural end, but you can bet there will be more development and smut in future chapters to come. Been super exhausted and mentally unwell lately so bear with me. Chapters will take time between them but I promise you this series will complete. I appreciate everyone's patience. The censored images can be viewed raw on my google doc (By clicking that link you are consenting to seeing graphic adult imagery and you are over 18). Let me know if you want to be in the tag list. I update chapter progress on the masterlist whenever something changes.

Please enjoy this chapter! I worked very hard on it so reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated very much.

Tag List: @fan-goddess , @artxasa , @baybaybear1 , @amour-tae , @dij-ology , @jillian-mill , @littlelovebug98 , @hrefna-the-raven

Chapter 16

The day started slow, you were so exhausted from the strenuous workout you got with Tommy from the other day that you slept in quite late. The temperature inside your house was what eventually pushed you out of bed and into the shower for a refreshing rinse. You spent most of the day dealing with emails and a phone call from the company you chose to install the irrigation system for the orchard, it all concluded into a surveyor being scheduled to come out and take measurements and run a cost estimate in the next week or so.

As the day dragged on, the sun began to set and redden the sky, which reflected into your home and reminded you to meet up with Tommy. You finished off the last of your dinner and got changed into a loose spaghetti strap tank top and some shorts with flip flops, the simple clothing accentuated your freshly curled and volumized hair. You stepped out the front door to make your way down to the main house, the night retained the days heat, and the air was thick with humidity. Your excitement grew with each step, -what surprise does he have for me this time?- you keep your focus on the Hewitt house which slowly grew closer as the distance shortened. You were still trying to process the fact that a home so large would one day be yours, it almost felt like a waste to just stay in the small house now. -If I’m going to inherit such a massive property I better start paying for potential repairs or something, maybe I’ll bring it up to Luda Mae and see about updating appliances...-

­­You saw Tommy running towards you from the driveway, he looked like a massive bear in the dark and his speed was frightening. He slowed when he was a few feet away, his breathing was not even slightly elevated which really enforced the fact that he truly is in peak physical fitness. He still had his mask on despite you hoping he would get more used to it being off; he was wearing some cut off jean shorts, a black shirt that was perfectly too small with cut off sleeves, and he was barefoot. You suppressed a smirk at the obvious reminder of him being a backwoods country boy, shoeless in the night.

“Where’d your shoes run off to?” you jab.

 He lets out a rumbling laugh, “Too hot fer shoes, c’mon now” he made it sound like you were ludicrous for even suggesting them. “Shouldn’t be walkin’ when it’s dark, shoulda gave us a call so I come getcha”

You nod in silence, his worry for you was so sweet. He then takes your hand in his, all you can do is hang onto a single finger since your own hand was too small to grasp around his own.

He raises his hand with yours dangling off his finger and huffs out a chuckle as he inspects the pathetic sight,

“Cute” he says.

You give him a playful nudge on his leg with your foot, “Whatever! I can’t grasp your freaking bear claw with my NORMAL size hand.”

He lets out a hearty burst of laughter, you loved hearing him sound so happy, after months of back and forth with the mystery and awkward feelings, you finally felt like you had made a deep connection, it was an incredible feeling; Not only was he your future husband, but he was also your best friend, something you hadn’t had for a very long time.

You look up at him as you both walked together, “Where are we headed?”

He keeps his gaze forward and replies, “Out t’the pond”

You felt a shiver run down your spine and your movement slowed, Tommy noticed this immediately and stopped walking. He tilted his head in confusion, you couldn’t move and your heart rate rose immediately. He sensed a shift in your body language and knew something was up, you let go of his finger and he turned to you and kneeled down,

“Y’ok baby?”

His honey sweet southern drawl helped to stifle the rising panic attack you could feel festering in your core. You didn’t respond and he took a knee and moved you to sit down on his extended leg, it was like sitting on a stone bench.

He softens his voice to a hushed baritone, “Still scared from what all happened huh.”

You give a hurried nod and tried to focus on a small stone on the gravel road. Tommy picks you up and brings you to the house, when he enters you see that the downstairs lights were mostly shut off save for a few lamps dimmed in each room. He carries you to your room and sets you down gently on the bed, he turns a lamp on and leaves the room. You lay there almost paralyzed from fear, you figured your body would get used to the past since the origin of the danger was now dead and erased from the face of the earth.

Tommy comes back into the room and sets a glass of water on the nightstand next to the bed, he then takes a chair and places it next to the bed facing you.

“Breathe easy now baby, it’s gon be alright.” His words released you from the paralysis and you sowly began to come to your senses.

“I’m so sorry Tommy, I don’t know why this happened” you felt so bad for putting the night to a halt.

A heavy wave of tiredness hit you like a ton of bricks, your eyes began to feel like they weighed hundreds of pounds and you could barely keep them open. You manage to push out some words before you became too weak, “I need… sleep…Tom-“

Tommy knew what was going on and got in the bed and lay down beside you, “S’ok baby just let yer mind rest now”

You were asleep for what felt like years, no dreams, no nightmares, just like you shut down. You slowly woke up to your room still lit softly by the lamp Tommy turned on. Your energy came back to you so quickly that you felt like you just drank a pot of espresso. You were so furious with yourself for ruining Tommy’s surprise and ending the night so fast just because of fear, you were angry at the fact that it felt like that disgusting pig Dover was still terrorizing you from beyond the grave. -This is ridiculous, I’m not going to let him control me, I’m taking a stand!- You had never felt more filled with ire and energy before.

You were pinned to the bed by Tommy’s hulking arm which he draped over you before he fell asleep, it was like a stone barricade preventing you from leaving; you tried to lift it off you but it was so heavy you could barely push it away. Tommy was fast asleep, he slept so quietly, all you could hear were some muted gusts of air coming out of his nose from every exhale. You slunk out of Tommys arm by snaking your body from underneath eventually getting free, you smirk to yourself thinking you were so slick until Tommy grunted and spoke,

“Where y’goin’ hun?” his voice was gravely from sleep.

You freeze and try to give a calm response, “Just going to the bathroom, I’ll be back”

He turned onto his back and closed his eyes, “Hurry n’ get on back here baby, come n’ keep me comp’ny”

His breathing immediately turned back into quiet breaths again and you slunk out of the room, he looked so inviting just lying there with his little shorts on and his shirt crinkled up exposing his fluffy stomach, but you were on a mission and had the determination of a scorned god. ­-I want to get myself to the pond, in the dark, on my own! If I can do that then I can overcome this shit I just know it!-

You opened the front door as quietly as you could, and tip toed out onto the porch turning to close the door behind you carefully. Each step on the wooden porch felt like it was the loudest thing ever, soft creaks would come out from the planks and you were scared of it waking someone and ruin your plan. You felt exhilarated, it was like you were a teenager again trying to sneak out to meet with your best friend to go drink at lake Wahtopanah. The night air was still flooded with heat, you finally got off the last of the porch and decided to speed walk away as silently as possible, you managed to get to the silo without raising suspicion and then sprinted as fast as you could to the forest. Your eyes adjusted quickly to the dark, bits of moonlight shone in through the trees and lit up your path.

Your confidence and anger made you feel powerful, like you could take on a thousand Dover’s. You slowed down to catch your breath and when you looked up you saw a dim yellow light in the distance towards the pond. You got closer and noticed the area of the pond was surrounded with a tall fence of solid wood, each plank was so close to the other that it created no slits to see through. You enter the entrance gap in the planks and walk through a fenced in hallway lined with hanging bulbs, at the end of the hallway is a big door with something carved on it ‘Y/N’s pond’ you smiled and felt your anger melt away. You can’t believe he put up a whole fence so quickly, he really was the most romantic man to have ever lived.

You push on the door but it didn’t budge, you noticed the handle had a lock on it. Out of the blue, a large hand passes by you from behind holding a key, it’s Tommy. You turn around swiftly and see him looking down at you with a stern expression, this time his face was without a mask.

You blush “I-I’m sorry I just needed to do this myself. I wanted to face my fears…”

He unlocks the door shaking his head at you,

“I know baby, I just wish you’d take m'warnin'. The dark ain’t no place fer a lil lady t’go wanderin’ about. ‘least not without me ‘round”

You tug on his shirt to get him to bend his head down, you prop yourself up on your tip toes and give him a loving kiss on the lips, then say,

“I’ll be a good girl next time I promise”

He hums and smiles lowering his eyelids slightly to gaze at you,

“I’s worried y’know. If I ain’t ‘round who knows what you’d get into.”

You tilt your head to the side and clasp your hands together low on your hips as you bite your lips and look up at him, one leg bent at the knee rocking your foot back and forth,

“Pwease fowgive me Tommy, I pwomise I’ll nevew wun off again” you made an effort to sound as silly and cute as possible, emphasizing your breasts being squished together by your arms for added effect.

Tommy laughs and looks away pretending to be annoyed, “Y’gon drive me crazy woman”

You turn around and open the door, the hallway continues and the floor becomes the wood planks set there previously from Tommy’s first surprise. The hallway widens up to the dock which now has a tall open wood frame where lights and heavy outdoor lamps now hang; The fence circles the entire pond and is so tall that it has intense privacy, and the lights all along the perimeter brighten the area up with a comfortable yellow glow. You were awestruck, and had no words for how happy this made you. Tommy walked up beside you,

“So, uh… y’like it?” he sounded nervous.

You turned to look at him, your jaw still hung open from the shock of it all,

“Like it? Tommy, this is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Is it seriously all for me?”

He smiled,

“O’course it is baby, I wanna make sure y’get everythin’ y’want or need taken care of.”

He began excitedly pointing out the things he had done and why, like a child showing their parent the treehouse they made,

“I put that there door on so’at no one gets in w’thout y’knowin’, n’ the fence has not one slit so no peekin’ n’ theres a walkway so y’can get ‘round easy, it should be safe as a mama birds nest now.”

You walk up to him and place your arms around his body as best you could, you wanted to squeeze him as hard as possible to show how much this meant to you.

He gently hugs back and says, “Guess I did good then huh?”

“You’re more man than I could ask for Tommy, this is so selflessly thoughtful.”

He lets out some air from his nose, “Well good then, I need t’work t’deserve ya”

You look up at him, “Deserve me? You went through hell yet you still are so caring and loving, especially to me.”

He looked away and his face had a forlorn expression, you knew he was the same as Luda Mae, always clinging onto the hope of retribution for the devastating crimes he was pushed to commit. He loosened his hug,

“I fear I ain’t no good fer ya. Every dang day I ‘member what I did n’ can’t barely stand t’live with m’self. But… y’came ‘round n’ made that feelin’ quiet down” he sounded crestfallen.

You let go of him and went to look in the water, you were about to try something a little risky to get him out of this self-deprecating mood. You pretended to see something in the water,

“Tommy, come look at this, what the hell am I seeing?” you tried to sound sincere and curious if not slightly alarmed.

He came and stood over you, trying to see what you did,

“What y’lookin’ at?” he asks.

You point to a dark spot on the water, “I don’t know what that is, a fish? Come closer to look or you won’t see it well.”

He kneeled down next to you and leaned over to search for the source of your inquiry; You stood up to pretend to get closer to the edge to look and swiftly pushed him as hard as you could into the pond. The splash he made sent large waves of water outward from the source of impact, not unlike that of a glacier falling into the ocean.

You start laughing hysterically, Tommy stands up in the water, his hair hanging over his face. If you gave him leather pants, a black earring and a thick leather bracelet he would have looked like the lead singer for a heavy metal band. Tommy wipes the hair from his eyes and tries to grab you to pull you in but you jumped back just in time.

“Y’lil demon.” he said with a smile, “Y’gon come in or what? Gettin’ lonely in here”

You give a sly look and begin to slowly remove your clothing, turning the dock into a stage for a strip tease. Tommy watched closely with each movement, the more skin he saw the more excited he got. You turned away from him when your shirt came off to tease your reveal, then you dropped your shorts down and stepped out of them gently, leaving only a red underwear showing. Tommy stood there and crossed his arms trying to act like this display wasn’t unraveling his mind into a horny mess.

You turned to face him and dropped the shirt to expose your breasts, you lifted them and pressed them together sensually with your hands, then began to slowly remove the underwear, letting it fall softly to the dock floor. You were now entirely nude, the summer air swirled around your skin; You slinked up to the edge of the dock bending over to look at Tommy more closely, he was so tall that he was basically face to face with you from the water as you knelt.

“Sit down” he commanded

You blushed at his demand and obeyed, you let your legs dangle off the side into the water. Tommy stood between your legs and brought your face in for a passionate kiss, he ran his free hand down to your sternum and playfully pushed you back, you caught yourself with your arms and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Stay there” he growled.

Tommy spread open your legs exposing your already fluid slick folds, you felt a bit of embarrassment at him gazing so intently into such a private spot until he lowered his head down and pressed his mouth onto your clit, sending a shockwave up your chest forcing a loud moan out. Tommy ran his thick tongue all up and down your cunt, the more he lapped up of your juices the more feral he became as if your wetness was a drug.

You lean your head back and lay on the wood, he flicked your clit with his tongue and sucked on it creating a ripple effect of arousal flood down from your navel to your hole causing it to open and close slightly with each clench. Tommy felt the pulsation and slipped his tongue deep into your vaginal opening while pressing his nose into your swollen nub. You were gasping for air, exhausted by the rapid fire mewls and moans you were uncontrollably emitting, Tommy was so good with his tongue that it started to feel overpowering and you tried to pull away but he grabbed your hips and pulled you closer making you scream with intense pleasure.

You had a tight coil form in your core, it tightened harder with each flick of his tongue, and when Tommy slid one finger into your opening you couldn’t restrain yourself and that coil released with a powerful orgasm that made you buck into Tommy’s mouth. He slowed his licking and took some breaths as you twitched from the remaining sparks of release. You were panting from how intense that felt, Tommy came up from below and looked at you to make sure you were smiling.

“Got y’back for that work y’did on me in th’basement” he gruffed.

You looked up at Tommy, he had a smug smirk on his face and with how he just made you feel, he earned it.

“That was unbelievable, was I… ok down there?”

You couldn’t help but feel a little insecure about your natural scent thanks to years of feminine hygiene commercials indoctrinating an entire bloodline of generations with fairytale expectations.

Tommy raised an eyebrow, “That there’s the sweetest tastin’ fruit I ever ate. Almost couldn’t pull m’self away.”

Your body was still brimming with ecstasy, and Tommy looked especially sexy all wet and commanding. You sat up and began to lift off his shirt, he did nothing to stop you and helped to get it removed, tossing it on the dock beside you in a sopping pile. You touched his chest all over and squeezed his pecs,

“I want more”

Tommy smiled and moved in closer, “Y’ready fer more huh? Greedy woman”

You lean back and he starts to lower his head to go a second round but you put your hand on his forehead to stop him,

“What y’stoppin’ me for?” he asks.

“I want to get fucked by you” you plead, pointing to where his shorts are strained.

Tommys eyes widen and he hurriedly begins to remove his shorts, “Y’don’t need t’ask me twice baby”

His dick sprung out from his shorts and was already twitching with excitement, he lunged and grabbed your upper arms pulling you off the dock and into his embrace. He held you up and you straddled him, you kissed his lips with an eager pressure and he reciprocated by slipping his tongue past your lips. He took you to the other side of the pond, you barely noticed as both your lips were locked in a heavy make out. Tommy pulled his face away and smiled,

“Look, s’the last part I didn’t show ya.” He pointed at a small clearing out of the water.

You saw a beautiful moss-covered area where he placed a soft blanket and more tall poles to drape large lanterns. He lifted you past the reeds and came out of the water placing you down on the blanket, you look up at him, he looked like a giant and his cock was still at full mast tantalizing you. Tommy lay down overtop of you and enclosed your body under his, with his arms creating a barrier. He gave you a kiss and then used his legs to spread yours so he could be situated snug between them. He positioned himself further down and angled his head to meet with your entrance, slowly pressing himself in and then pulling away, pushing his penis a little further inside each time until you loosened up and he was able to bottom you out with ease.

You hummed and breathed deeply, the sensation of him inside you felt so incredible that you pulled him in with your legs, he got the hint and began to pump with more aggression. The thrusts intensified and immediately electrified your nerve endings with a sinful sensation.

“I been waitin’ all day fer this baby, I been dreamin’ of ya.” His deep voice rumbled your chest with each word, the yearning just made you slip into ecstasy.

Tommy leaned back and took hold of your thighs, lifting your hips to meet his, your entire lower half was hovering above the ground as he pushed into you with a quickened pace. You were being completely controlled and your movements were not your own, he held onto you and pulled you forward and back on his cock like you were a dirty toy. You loved every minute of it, the deeper he plunged in, the closer to orgasm you got.

His cock was perfectly shaped to fit your pussy, each thick vein was like an extra stimulation, his glans had an incredibly rare lifted lip edge that made it feel like he was scratching an impossible to reach itch. You were a moaning mess, and before you could attempt any movement, he raised you up so you could hang onto his torso while he rammed into you. He lifted and lowered you with intensity, you could feel your walls clenching down on him ready to blow at any moment.

“Ah, baby yer so tight, I’m gonna cum.” He gasped.

He lowered you back down onto the ground and pressed your legs far back so your feet were near your head and he pushed into you hard. You were experiencing euphoria until it became hyper focused into a rush of fire,

“Don’t sto-stop, don’t stop Tommy I’m cumming!” you scream.

You feel surges of orgasm pulse through every inch of your body, and as you moaned and squirmed Tommy lets out a loud groan and you feel that familiar fluid pump into you filling you up as far as it could until it spilled out with his cock still gently thrusting. Tommy was breathing heavily, still over top of you, his head pressed against yours. You lay flat and splayed yourself out in exhaustion, your body was relaxed and your energy spent. Tommy slowly pulled out of you and lay next to you, cum spilled out of your hole and you felt it dribble down your folds and past your anus, dripping salaciously onto the blanket like a filthy faucet.

“I’m too tired to head back, can we just sleep here?” you ask.

He nodded and said, “s’already late anyway. C’mere”

He turned and put his arm over you, and you turn your back to him becoming the little spoon in this embrace. The temperature outside had cooled and his body heat kept you warm and comfortable. That night, you had the best sleep of your life in the arms of the best man in your life.

-To next chapter

[pink-sparkly-witch]

Hello all of my beautiful followers! I just wanted to let you know that I’m taking a mental health break from Tumblr. I’ve been had a rough year, but particularly lately. Whilst I was using writing as my emotional outlet, I’m now finding that I have less and less patience and motivation to do it, and I don’t want to permanently lose my joy for writing and creating.

On top of that, real life has been relentlessly throwing curve balls at the same time as being super busy and there’s no sign of things slowing down for the rest of the year at least. I’m not sure if I’ll be away for a week, a month, or longer, but hopefully you enjoy what’s coming up while I work on myself and maybe (hopefully!) some new stories for next year if the muses are kind and I get some downtime back 🥴

New fics are pre-scheduled to post every Tuesday and Friday until 19 December, and I’ll be popping in to update masterlists, etc. but it’s unlikely I’ll be responding to any comments or messages until I’m back. Until then, take care of yourselves. I love you all and I’ll see you soon 😘

Tina 💖

[lustbile]

hi :)

-

-

-

I’m typing this all at like. Almost 11 at night so excuse me please if it’s at all rambling or weird idk. I just felt like since it’s been over a year since I genuinely posted anything I need to say some stuff about me just going ghost.

So hi :) to old and the somehow new followers I’ve accumulated. How are all of you? I missed you all and this account a lot and I feel really shitty just kind of abandoning it the way I did so I think it’s time I give some explanations? Or like… I don’t know, life updates? Which feels weird to say considering I’ve always been very anonymous on this account, which I will continue to do in this so. Please enjoy some basic info about my life

1) I graduated college :) Which I think was a huge part of why I had to abandon this account for a minute. Those of you who are unaware, I was a studio art major, and if you think that studio art is an “easy” major you’d be wrong! That shit kicked my ass like no other. “Art school” just used to be old rich dudes giving a little freak some money and told him to paint or sculpt some dicks and god do I wish that was how it still was. I had to like, come up with concepts and reason behind my work, and create a shit ton of it to. I put my entire soul into that shit, defend the hell out of it in critiques, and my final work means so much to me. If I wasn’t anonymous on here I’d without a doubt post it because. It truly feels like I ripped out my little dumb heart and put it on paper/canvas

But with that, I’ve had to become real adult :( I’m doing what I can to make money off my work (which is going better than imagined) while also doing some part time work. It’s great, but very tiring.

Also 2) (this part will be short I swear) I have a long term partner now. I won’t say exactly how long we’ve been together, but I do live with them. And as weird as it may sound, I’ve never told them about this account or my writing. They know I like kpop, but not this side of it. And I think part of me is still weighing my emotions towards writing smut about kpop idols while being in a committed/monogamous relationship. But I digress.

3) With how busy I became around the time that my posting schedule really took a hit, I’ve also just fallen away from kpop :/ I still listen to the music and watch music videos and stuff. But the fandom side and the non music related videos, I completely lost on that now. And I don’t like that. Being into kpop made me really happy and I liked watching boys be silly. But it just feels like I’ve missed so much now. I like a lot of groups, but more than anything, I miss nct so much :( I don’t even know what they’re really doing now. I know some of them will be entering the military soon so I feel like maybe the fandom will slow down, and as someone who used to run a 5sos account, I know what it’s like to just feel like a fandom is dying. And idk. I doubt kpop fandoms are like that but. Okay yeah now im rambling anyways!

This is all to say, I miss this part of my life a lot. Keeping up to date with music, watching funny videos of my boys, talking to you guys, and writing. I still have so many stories half finished. So many ideas that im just so disappointed didn’t see the light of day. Maybe I’ll get around to it again, but im not exactly sure if/when I’ll be in the headspace to write smut. Which I know, I can write without involving smut. But some of my ideas kind of needs it I think? And if im being honest, would anyone read my stuff if there wasn’t smut in it? Idk and I don’t know if I want to know.

Anyways if you’ve read this, thank you but like also. Im so sorry about how much there is lmao. If you want to send me a message please do. I don’t know if I’ll respond to what’s in my inbox now, since I just feel like I waited to long and I’d feel like a dick responding now. But I promise to keep an eye out. If you just want to say hi or just update me on what been going on in nct (please I want to get back into nct even if it’s not for my writing). If you have any questions for me I’m here :) and just as dumb as I was when I left. And I would recommend the inbox more than anything. I get really anxious with dms and I’m horrible about keeping conversations going there, so my inbox is really the best. I won’t promise I’ll get to it like, the second you send it, as, awhile ago I turned off my notifications for tumblr. 1) because sometimes the notifications were cringe lmao. Like I’m very liberal with who sees/handles my phone and some of those notifications were clearly for fanfiction and I don’t need to be exposed like that lmao. But also because I started getting very, very anxious about how many notes/likes a fic got and how quickly and it just was so bad for my mental health. But that’s not the point.

The point is, I’d love to hear from any of you guys again, be able to talk about kpop and just shoot the shit. Which if I’m not writing (for now, we’ll see about the future because those old ideas are still gnawing at my brain) I understand if the traction and interest in my account has worn off. But either way.

Hi :)

[flurry-of-stars]

Hihi! It’s been a little while, huh? How’s everyone doing out there? I hope you’ve all been well! (。･∀･)ﾉ I figured it was about time to give a little update just for those who are waiting for chapter updates or new fics and such (❀❛ ֊ ❛„)♡

So, to keep a long story short, life has kept me unable to write very much this past almost month. Actually, today is the first time where I’ve actually had the motivation and energy to write anything (っ- ‸ - ς)  I’ve tried to keep my creativity up during this period but it’s a challenge. This situation shows no signs of letting up anytime soon so it’s sad to say, it’ll be like this for a while yet ( • ᴖ • ｡ ) I still want to write. Writing and being creative is something that’s incredibly important to me (๑/////๑" ) But I do worry about my work being affected by my current situation. The last thing I want to do is upload work I’m unhappy with. So until this situation improves, I might upload smaller fics or rambles that cross my mind for now. I do have one fic that I finished last month. It’s only like 2k words and I wanted to wait until after I finish my 100 follower fic to post it, but I may post it ahead of schedule. I’ll be focusing on my 100 follower fic when I do have proper time to sit down and write at length. I’d really like to get it done before the end of June (since June is apparently the wedding month and it would fit hehe) but no promises (·•᷄‎ࡇ•᷅ ) I will still be drafting and plotting for the next chapters of THH. I did start on chapter 5 before everything happened and I have the whole chapter planned out, but I don’t want to properly sit down and write it until things improve a little. Maybe a few hundred words here and there when I feel up to it but progression will be slow. I’m very sorry to those who are waiting for it. I just don't want to give you guys chapters to read that I'm not proud of. Genuinely, thank you all so much for your patience (´｡• ◡ •｡`) ♡ Wishing you all a wonderful week! 💛💛💛

[bvannn]

Weekly update July 19, 2024

Another week of artfight, I’m slowing down pretty hard now and I feel awful about it. I tried to get some health stuff in a row this week but I still feel awful. I’m trying to get other stuff done, though.

Artfight: I still have a bunch of sketches on backlog, I’m going to finish up revenges first, maybe tonight but probably not. A few other random attacks as well, I might play around with styles some more. I want to try more paining-style pieces, and have an idea for what to try but need to find fitting characters.

Music: music is so fun to work on, even though I don’t have too much to show at the moment. I have an instrumental ambient piece ready, and as soon as artfight is done priority number one will be a visual to go with it. Also dug up one of my older instrumental WIPs and picked out some instruments to finish it up, just need to record melodies. Also touched up OEB some more, and fiddled with some amp sim programs. Guitar Rig 7 is good for beginners but Tonocracy has been winning me over. Big thing was playing with drums some more. Before I was using all the drums in a kit together instead of mixing and matching like you’re supposed to, but I tried playing some more this week and it’s so much better. Hoping future pieces will sound better. I’ll try to get a VPR for RR done this weekend, and start re-editing BATB.

On the topic of guitar stuff, I’m planning to spend tonight trying to see how much I retained from those couple months of lessons earlier in the year, and then attend an open house thing tomorrow to see if I need more. I’m not sure if there’s more that I need to get taught, or if the only thing bottlenecking me is just memorizing the chords and building dexterity. I don’t know if I’ll be good enough to record for my actual music yet or not but I’ll get there eventually.

Comic is also moving slowly, as predicted. Again I’ll probably go buck wild on that in August, but for now Artfight is a higher priority. Epithet TTRPG and OEBvideo are also going kinda slowly, Epithet because I’m bottlenecked on statblocks and OEB because I’m bottlenecked on time. I can try chipping at statblocks at work when I’m tired of drawing, but that relies on where I’m being put. This week I had a lot of actual work to do, but it seems like it’s leveling off again. Really I should put together more of a schedule for next week, if I try to do that it’ll be Sunday.

[moku-and-his-madness]

First few pages of Ghost Stories (by me) is Out!!! Enjoy!!!

!heads-up! i put any other language in red for it to be easier to read, the story basically self explains the sentence and translates it for you so need to worry about language!!!

Languages Contained: Spanish, Portuguese. (more but we'll have to see how the story progresses)

GHOST STORIES

                                               By  Unt1t3d

                    Position for Hire: “J”

I don't like offices. I don’t know if it's because they mean that something uncomfortable is being discussed or that I didn’t organize anything myself, knowing that contents are probably where they don’t belong. This tossed here, That cast aside there. But this office I hated the most. Not only was I uncomfortable, I was being pestered about “How I felt” and, “What I should do to get on a healthier path in life”. I’ve never liked the ‘this is a safe space’ shit they rant. 

I didn’t need to get healthier mentally, I needed to get better physically. I needed money. “Justice, are you alright?” The Therapist was nagging me, I noticed. “Huh? Oh, Yeah. I agree.” I spaced off a lot so I just pretended I knew what anyone was saying in a conversation. “ I was just saying that you should get your work papers in order. I think a job might be just what you need to get yourself in the right headspace.” She said like she was talking to a toddler, writing notes on her notepad. Wow, I’m touched, she’s concerned. Aren't they all? I’ve had enough of the sympathetic 'Are you alright?’s Honestly, a ‘you're a crazy mother fucker’ once in a while is perfectly fine to balance out the chaos.

“So is your medication working? Do you still see…them?” She's talking about the shadowy friends of mine! Yeah, I still fucking see them even though you have me on enough meds to call me a drugaddict! In fact, I saw one on Tuesday, SUSAN. I’ve always been able to see them, even when I was younger, and they blamed it on a very rare, very young case of dementia. But these…things, aren't just figments of my imagination. They have minds of their own, taunting me all the time. It's the reason he’s gone. 

“Yeah, I haven’t seen them in a while.” I say with a smile, so that she won’t prescribe me another pill. “Don’t we end in a few?” I say to hurry her along. She taps her skull, as if she’s just now remembering I have a life. “Oh, you’re right! Then we’ll pick this up next week.” Ew, I didn’t want to pick this up again next week. “Um, I’m going to get my papers organized, remember? I’m getting that job. So, if I just notify you, I don’t think meetings will be necessary as of right now.” I say impatiently with a weak smile, tapping my foot at godspeed. Man, she’s slow on the update. Maybe if She's smart enough she’ll realize what I’m trying to say. 

She gathers her things, clearly not in her right headspace as she throws it all recklessly in a tote bag. My OCD impulses twitch. “Oh, wow. Yeah, that is right! You have a way better memory than me!” she said over-enthusiastically. No wonder she was alway re-scheduling. “I suppose that’s alright, but if you're ever stressed, or need someone to talk to, call my number.” She said with a deeply concerned look. To be truthful, I lost her Number, but that’s just between you and me. “Yep. In fact, I’ll have you on speed-dial, just in case.” I tell her, my enthusiasm weak and my social battery draining fast. “Okay! You have a good rest of your day then!” She says with a cheery smile. Right, like hell I will.

  Yup. Sure will. Time to go home to Mamá and step-daddy and scrub the house clean, and cower away from David’s leather belt. I hate to be brutally honest like I always am, but they’re half the reason I’m in debt for these damn medical bills. I walk down the long flight of stairs and out of the building. Ugh, finally, I’m free.

                                                -X-

I hung my keys and walked into the kitchen and shouted, “I’M HOME!”.  No response, of course. I opened the door to my room and took a deep breath. Now I’m home. I closed the door because, privacy ya’ know? I hung my messenger bag on a decorative rung I had 3-d printed in sophomore year of Computer Design. I glanced at my neat wall of vinyl records with bands like “Nirvana” and “Los Campesinos”, right next to the picture of me smiling with my father. On my desk was a stack of books, things I was borrowing but now belong to me, a cup of pencils, and my PC setup I made myself, stickers plastering the frame.

I flopped on my bed, tired as hell. I pulled out my phone and selected a playlist, closing my eyes and drifting in and out of sleep. I dream of the shadows and VHS tapes changing and a loud static in my head. Everything is so unilluminated, and I’m scared, frightened out of my wit at whatever could come out of the wispy darkness. “Jay '' someone says. I look in the darkness, trying to detect where the voice is ringing from. “Jay” I feel a hand on my shoulder. I jolt awake and rub my eyes. When my vision focuses, my mom is standing in the middle of my room, cigarette in hand. “You were screamin’ again. Did you take your damn pills?” No, I hadn’t. I was supposed to take them even if I took a two minute nap. Or else I screamed like a madman.

“David isn’t coming home tonight.” She said, taking a drag of the cancer creator. “ ‘Work’?” I say, not looking at her. She breathes out. “Yeah, ‘work’. I figured you could use the stove tonight then.” She takes one last look at my room and walks out, her shirt askew across her small curved shoulders. She’s not the same anymore. After my dad died in that plane crash, she’s been doing all the wrong things with all the wrong people. I don’t understand why she would want to be in a relationship with that abusive fuck ‘David’ or whatever anyway. 

But she still does little things like this, letting me know if and when David’s going to be home, and letting me use the stove to make my empanadas and arroz Rojo or ‘foreign food’ as David calls it. He doesn’t let me cook because it’s too ‘spicy’ for him. 

I pull out all my spices and ingredients, ‘Summerland’ by Half Alive still playing in my ears. I’m in the zone, everything how I want it. Cooking the arroz and frying the meat and sauce for empanadas, carefully avoiding the paper cuts on my hands when dicing the jalapeno and cilantro. In the midst of cooking, I decide to make dessert, having a hard time picking either Tres Leches or Concha Bread. I would ask Mamá, but she was half asleep on the tattered La-Z-Boy in the parlor. So I just decide based on what we have the most.  A few hours later, mom wakes up, the smell of authentic Mexican food calling her. “Gracias por la comida hijo.” She says, eyes only half open. “De nada mami.” Spanish is another thing David doesn’t like. He can’t understand ‘taco bell’ as he calls it. “Pronto conseguiré un trabajo.” I’m getting a job, I tell Mamá. “¿un trabajo?” she says with no surprise. “¿Sabes cuál?” Do I know which one?  I was so focused on getting out of my meetings for a bit,that I hadn’t actually thought of what I would do. “Quizás algo en informática. Se paga bien.” I told her about my computer science classes and how the area of work paid well. Well enough to finish paying the debt to the bills I owed. 

“¿Cuándo te convertiste en un hombre tan adulto?”  When did I become such a grown man? She looks at me. “uh, el mes pasado mamá.” I had just turned 18 last month on November 7th. I was already an adult, technically. Mamá just looked at me and shook her head. “Ya sabes a qué me refiero, joven.” She said sassily. I laughed, enjoying our little corner of the universe, where we were safe. I brought out the Concha Bread and Mamá’s eyes lit up. “Mi Favorita! ” I smiled at her happiness, “¡Solo para ti! “. Just for you! “Hijo, ¡me estropeas!” You spoil me, She says with a laugh.

We finished dinner, and I tucked Mamá into bed. I piled up the dishes, planning to do them tomorrow, and pulled out my phone to look at available jobs in my area. I pulled up Yelp and look for an IT job. No such luck. I tried Indeed next, again, nada. The hours passed, websites were searched, and still, no IT or Cyber Security jobs in my area. 

I give up and try to find a decent paying job not too far from home.There are some alright ones and then there's the ones that look a little shady. I filter out my results so I don’t wish myself an early funeral. And then I found it, THE GOLDEN JOB!!! The golden job is this thing me and my computer friends would do when we were job hunting. You search for a job, filter it, and whoever had the best job at the end could dare anyone to do anything (within reason of course). One time, my friend Alex won and he got everybody to buy him something from DQ.

But this job seemed too good to be true. Just down town in the suburbs, away from the city, is a fancy estate house. The owners died a few years ago and this little old lady is looking for someone to clean it up for resale, as she is getting on in her years. The pay is good enough to pay for my bills though. All that's left now is to make the call…

  Question Everything: “Wil”

Do you ever get that feeling that you’re constantly being watched? Like eyes are constantly trained on you? As if existing is a cause for concern. “Hey Wil,can you pass me the arroz?” I snap out of my daze, “Huh? Oh sure, Tio.” The house is hectic today, cousins running around and Aunts and Uncles drinking and talking. Nobody in the family liked to be around me and Tio Hector felt bad about that, so he sat with me at all the family meets.

“Ei, você está bem?” Tio says, I smile dancing on his lips. I play along, “Sim, só pensando... e você?” I’m just thinking, what about you? I say this with the same smile playing on my lips. Tio just laughs, “You silly, I’m always fine! Como foi a terapia hoje?” He asks about therapy. He cares but I don’t need therapy. We’re just wasting money we don’t have. “Ah, o mesmo de sempre. Ela apenas traz à tona as mesmas coisas…” Same old, Same old. The lady doesn’t even have a plan for me to get ‘better’. Tio just smiles and says, “Talvez ela esteja louca!”. He bursts out with laughter, making the house feel a little more homely.

Some more family members enter the kitchen, filing up on more drinks and food. I feel so uncomfortable around them, as they do around me. A hate/hate relationship, I guess. Tio sensed my unease and acted as necessary. “Ignore-os, eles estão aqui apenas para ficar bêbados e conseguir babá de graça.” He said they’re alone at the event to get drunk and get free babysitting. He knew this would make me smile, because not only was it funny, it was true. 

I stand and push in my chair. “Vejo você mais tarde, tio. Tenho que ir para casa. Trabalho ocupado para ser feito.” Tio stands, “Trabalhar? OK, te vejo mais tarde. But don’t stress yourself! Or else you’ll end up like Aunt Maria!” He laughs. We hug and I leave, off to drive to my small apartment.

                                                  -X-

I got in and locked the doors and tossed my keys anywhere, I didn’t care at this point, my stuff was already everywhere. Boxes were still piled up from a month or two ago, from when I left the family house and moved out on my own. I toe my way on my cold floors, slowly inching my way to my room. LED lights are strung up, drawings and sketches hung up from AP Art classes. A picture of me and Tio sits on my nightstand. We were at a fair, eating bad funnel cakes and playing games. He won me the very avocado plushie that rests on my bed right now that day.

My laptop rests on my desk, covered in stickers I had designed myself, still open on my DAW program with a music track in queue. I slam it shut, too tired to even think about any actual work. I collapse to the bed. I don’t fall asleep, but just lay there. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with more scars. I lay horizontally, drinking in the late afternoon sunlight, absorbing all the details of my room. It’s kinda like when you’re waiting for something but can only leave at a certain time, so you wait and actually notice all the little things in your life.

A boom rings from upstairs. Ugh, the neighbors. I finally decided that I had rested long enough and had to do something productive. The therapist said something about getting a job or whatever, so that I could ‘get myself in the right headspace’. I already had a job, but it was one my family didn't approve of, and if I mentioned that to the therapist we would have a WHOLE discussion about ‘how that made me feel’ or, ‘what I could do to change their perspective’.

I didn’t have the time for that, and hell, I needed a buck. So, restlessly, I snatch my laptop and open Yelp and Indeed and other numerous job websites and applications. Hours later, you would think I would discover a decent art job! Even a graphics designer looking for an assistant in the heart of New York! But Nada. I gave up a half hour later, deciding to just filter my results for easy, high paying jobs in a calm area (so that way I wasn’t lost in Time Square).

What comes up is some crack-head craigslist kinda shit but some of the jobs are promising. I filter again to get rid of the cuckoo's and 9-5 jobs, settling for something more temp style. This narrows down my search even more, drastically not giving a fuck about my opinion, and only showing one or two results. Eenie Minie Moe later and I found the thing to shut Susan up about the job. A cleaning job, high pay, pick my own hours, AND! When the estate sells I get 2% of the profit sold. It’s this little old lady, selling the home and land of her dead son and daughter-in-law, just wanting to get it in shape before resale. 

I applied for the application and got it sent. I go to the kitchen to eat some trashy dried ramen in a bowl I haven’t washed in a week, and decide what time my body wants to deal with sleep and pain.

                                            -X-

I woke up late that morning, my knees bloodied. Fuck. I tip-toe to the bathroom and get out my huge first aid kit. I disinfect and clean, avoid infection and patch it all up with a huge band aid. I've learned the art of self-aid with my eyes closed and hands tied by now. Fixed, for now.

I checked my phone, surprised to see a notification from the lady with the estate this early. She says my application checks out and that the latest I can start today is 11:30 am. Well, at least I can choose when I leave. I glance at the clock, gauging how much time I get to blow before leaving to find the property. 10:29…okay. Shower, skip breakfast today, and attempt to clean. Like hell I'm gonna clean. It’s just not in my nature anymore.

Flashforward and I’m running to my car to get there on time because my sense of time is horrible. I showered and barely had time to get my boxers on. So, looking like a lunatic, brandishing my disheveled hair and soggy bandaids barely hanging on by a thread, I booked it to my car.

more to come soon!!

tagging:@thinkingaboutctommy @paldeanbooper (my writer buddy:@wiblursaystuff) @vibestillaxxx @gay-mooshrooms @colleenispunk @wormsinsdirt (another writer buddy:@teagica)

[satoru-psych]

Learning curve - Gojo Satoru x Reader (18+)

| Pairing: Gojo Satoru / Fem!Reader (afab) / F/M / Teacher! Gojo x Student! Reader.

| Tags/content: Slow burn, Teacher x Student, Age Gap, Smut, Rough sex, Oral sex, Cunnilingus, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Eventual sex, Corruption Kink, Vaginal fingering, Drinking, Mild Dub-con. Just. A lot. Of stuff. *Minors Please dni.

| Summary: Gojo takes you on as a student after the other two 3rd years get suspended. little does he know, there's an ulterior motive behind those doe eyes of yours.

*Gojo is 28, Reader is 18.

| CHAPTERS 1-4

| Next Chapter: Coming soon.

| Series Masterlist

| Word count: 15.4K

//Note: Hiiii ^_^ A few people told me I should post this on here, since it was already on my AO3, and since I just updated with the latest chap, I thought might as well post them all together since it’s not that long. I’ll be linking the next chapter once it’s up. This is actually my first ever fic so I hope you guys like, oki byeeeeee!

AO3 link.

———————————————————————————————

CHAPTER 1 (PROLOGUE): LOLLIPOP

Gojo cares for his students, he really does. He knows the cruel, heartless nature of the Jujutsu world can shatter the hearts of even the strongest, and having experienced that first hand, he vowed to never turn a blind eye again.

So he pays attention, well, as much as he can with his busy schedule, even if it means little things like remembering their favorite sweets and bringing a box, or taking them out to eat after a mission.

It brings him a sense of peace to see their smiles, a feeling in his chest akin to a blue spring.

Despite his adoration for his students, he was never the kind to favor one over the other, and since he’s started teaching he treats all his students equally. Though as much as he tried to deny it, he may or may not have a very tiny insignificant soft spot for your saccharine smiles and honey dipped voice.

Gojo was also a very busy man, missions and lessons with the 1st years taking up a majority of his time already, so he’s not entirely sure why he’s considering adding you to his list of students too. He wasn’t a teacher during your first year, but he basically treated you like one of his students anyways, albeit not as close because he wasn’t around you as much. so what harm would it be to start teaching you too right?

He stared at the email on his computer screen from Yaga, announcing that the other two 3rd years have officially been suspended and that you needed a teacher for the time-being while he sorts things out with the higher ups in regards to the suspension.

“Well, guess I can help out a little” he muttered to himself, throwing 5 cubes of sugar in his tea as he wrote back to Yaga, saying he can take you as a student effective immediately.

He sipped on it while he waited for a reply, getting one a few minutes later that reads,

“Great, meet me in my office in 30 minutes so we can discuss scheduling and paperwork.

~ Yaga”

-----------------------------

“Thank you for agreeing Satoru, I know this was really short notice but Atsuya said his hands were full and Nanami has no interest in teaching”

He motioned for Gojo to sit on the sofa in his office, paperwork splayed across the small coffee table.

“But are you sure you have the time? If not I can work something else out, maybe a transfer to Kyoto-“

“Yeah, yeah, it’ll be alright, what’s more one student? Her underclassmen adore her, so I’m sure they’ll be ecstatic” Gojo interrupted, twirling his pen in his hand as he stared down at the class transfer forms. “So where do I sign?

Yaga sighed, contemplating the boards decision to even make this man a teacher in the first place, while showing him where to sign and cringing at his signature. “Are you 5 years old?”

“I’ll have you know my signature is very-“

A knock on the door cuts Gojo off, he scoffs and sinks back on the couch, signing a few more papers with a childish pout as Yaga gets up to answer the door.

“Oh, Hi Yaga-san, did you find someone to teach me yet?” Your sweet voice makes Gojo’s ears perk up slightly

“Yes, come in. Gojo-san is just finishing up the paperwork but I need you to sign a few things too”

You walk in and shoot Gojo a doe eyed smile, giving a curt wave that he returns with an unusual smile of his own. The lollipop you’ve been nursing in your mouth doesn’t go unnoticed by him, and you swear you could feel his gaze for a split second under that blindfold.

“I need you to sign these papers that Gojo-san has” Yaga gestures to the coffee table, so you walk over and take a seat, a little close to Gojo but not close enough for it to be anything noticeable. But he’s more perceptive than he lets on. Still, he decides to ignore it. All you did was sit down after all.

You pick up the pen and lean forward to start signing, your hair gently falling over your face, and Gojo shoots a quick glance at you, taking in your glossed lips and the lollipop you’ve been swirling around in your mouth.

He always thought you were pretty, nothing more. So it wasn’t like he didn’t expect you to look pretty right now either.

But what he really didn’t expect is the feeling of a slight strain on uniform trousers when he saw you swirling your lollipop around.

What the fuck?

A sheer moment of panic washed over him when he felt his length throb, so in a daze he frantically grabbed some papers, putting them on his lap to hide the tent that was forming , whilst pretending like he gave two shits about whatever was written in them.

It’s only until he hears your voice again that he is snapped out of his frenzied train of thought,

“Thank you so much for taking me on, Gojo-sensei, I really appreciate it”

you stood in front of the table, giving him a shy smile and batting your eyelashes.

He straightens up, still covering his crotch with the papers and clearing his throat in an effort to compose himself, “don’t mention it, I’ll see you tomorrow then”

“Sounds great, Gojo-sensei” you waved goodbye to him and Yaga.

the way his name rolled off your tongue left a sugary sweet taste in his mouth, and for a second he wonders if it was your effortless charm or the 5 sugar cubes he downed in his tea just a little while ago.

He felt his trousers tighten again, and began to internally panic before Yaga snapped him out of it, “Ijichi-san will work out the schedules for both of you and send it out by tonight. Do let me know if something comes up and you can’t follow through”

Gojo gulps, thankful for the interruption because it’s impossible to stay even a little bit hard when Yaga speaks. But wait, why was he even hard in the first place? Surely it wasn’t cus of…

“Satoru..?” Yaga raised an eyebrow,

“Oh uh, yeah, sure thing” he stands up quickly, handing Yaga the signed papers and heads out quickly.

heading back to office he sits down, eyeing the sugar cubes that sat in a box next to his empty tea cup, and your voice lingers in his head again…

‘shit..when did she get so cute?’

He shakes the thought out of his head, telling himself it was probably just an accident, a funny little coincidence, maybe it’s because he neglected his morning wood when he woke up, ah yes that’s the one. It’s gotta be!

So he decided to call it a day, he was obviously not in his right mind today. he makes a motion of interlocking his fingers and clasping his hands together to warp into his bedroom, sighing in relief upon entering his personal space.

“Maybe I just need a nap” he takes off his jacket and slides off his blindfold, running his fingers through his snowy hair, before settling into his ridiculously expensive bed.

“Yeah…I definitely need a nap..” he closed his eyes, trying to ignore the lingering taste of sugar on his tongue.

————————————————

CHAPTER 2: RISING STEAM

The walk to your dorm room back from Yaga's office had you questioning some things. You could’ve sworn Gojo-sensei was acting a bit…. Off, you just couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

Plopping down on your bed, you pulled your phone out of your pocket. The weather was getting warmer, but there was still a breeze in the air, so you decided to submit a request for a new summer uniform.

The school allowed everyone to rotate their uniforms and customize them as the seasons changed, and although you prefer practicality over fashion during combat, it wouldn't hurt to try and look a little cuter this summer. Your motive behind this was totally not the fact that you were Gojo's new student. you would never try to seduce your teacher or anything like that. duh.

You typed in your measurements, moving on to the design, your usual choice of a hooded-romper uniform came to mind, maybe you'd modify it to be sleeveless? maybe you'd make it a two piece suit? A different coloured collar?

As you began to visualize your options, an email notification came in, it was your updated schedule for the next 3 weeks from Ijichi, with Gojo CC'd into the email, it contained an average class and mission spread, nothing too exciting, but what caught your eye was that two of your upcoming missions were going to be supervised by Gojo. you weren't sure why but you sure as hell weren't going to protest..Impulsively filling out the rest of the tailoring form with a not-so-subtle smirk plastered on your face, you made sure to choose pickup instead of delivery so you could collect it after your mission tomorrow, and what you were going to pay towards the delivery fee can now go towards a new lipgloss…perfect.

You started on your bedtime routine and your mind wandered. This new schedule was giving you a prime opportunity to get to know Gojo-sensei better! Especially since he’ll be accompanying you on a couple of your missions. That's a nice thing to do right? find some common ground and have deep meaningful conversations with each other. Yes, that's exactly your goal here, nothing else.

Maybe you could pester your underclassmen about it when they're back from their mission, but for the time being you've put on your investigation cap and opened up a social media app while brushing your teeth.

He was ridiculously easy to find, given that all you had to do was search up his name and the user @Gojothestrongest1 came up, making you roll your eyes. there was however the obstacle of him having a private account which you definitely did not foresee.. he seemed like the kind of guy that would show off and flaunt any chance he got so this was definitely strange, and you wouldn’t be caught dead requesting to follow him online the same day he got appointed as your new teacher, that’s too weird right?

Maybe you need to sleep on it, you have an early start to your day and an evening mission tomorrow, plus you’ll be picking up your new uniform after, so you want to be well rested.

You spat out the toothpaste, observed the saliva-mixed white liquid in the sink, mind wandering back to Gojo-sensei for no particular reason, and you giggled.

Though what started as a simple everyday bedtime routine ended up manifesting into what you could only describe as some sort of self care ritual, cleanse, tone, moisturize, scrub your lips, shower and shave every inch of your body, apply body oil, this is totally your everyday routine.. Finally you slid into some comfy pajamas and headed back to bed to get some shut eye.

—-----------------------------

Birds chirping can be heard faintly through the sound of your sliding glass windows, morning dew settles on the glass and you wake up feeling like today is gonna be a good day. Though the morning is uneventful, you go about your school day like normal, classes in the morning and sparring in the afternoon, you did some hand to hand with Yuji which left you with a bruised left shoulder and hip hone, which he apologized very profusely for afterwards, even promising to buy you tickets for his wormo-man movie , but you feel okay enough to go on your mission this evening, it’s reported to be a grade 2 curse in the family section of a run-down fast food joint that likes to hide in the playground. Cute.

It’s in a dodgy part of town but your missions were always in…questionable places anyways. It’s unlikely that a curse would manifest at a nice botanical garden or an artsy modern museum, so roughing it out was something you grew accustomed to.

Car tires screech against the curb, window rolling down to show Ijichi, you wave at him and he he greets you back “good evening, the mission site isn’t too far away so let’s head there now” he smiles and unlocks the car for you to get in, so you sling your bag across your shoulder and climb inside.

“I’m sorry, I have a meeting with the principal later, I won’t be able to collect you after your mission is complete so I’ll send Nitta-san.” he semi-bows strangely while driving. Who bows while driving?

Perfect.

“Oh that’s okay, Ijichi-san, you don’t have to bother Nitta-san, I’ll figure it out by myself” you shoot him a smile through the rearview mirror.

“But i’m not allowed to leave the students alo-”

“I said don’t worry, Ijichi-san. I’ll be fine” you interrupt.

He sighs but ultimately agrees, muttering something under his breath about how he’s not paid enough for this. The rest of the car ride is silent apart from the radio news channel that Ijichi seems to be invested in.

Once he drops you off you head towards the dingy looking building, arms stretched upwards in a tired sigh to stretch your sore muscles, “let’s get this over with”

An eerie bell jingle fills the atmosphere when you swing the doors open, the place is surprisingly not dirty, just very run down. The painted children’s characters on the walls are chipped away leaving them with deformed faces, booth cushions are sunken in and appear lumpy, and the counter is littered with fallen stacks of paper menus and coupons. The curse was doing a solid job of hiding its presence so far, but you could see the faint aura surrounding its footprints that lead into the playground, so you follow them carefully, keeping your guard up as you pass through the door frame.

From the back the curse looks like a child, about 6-9 years old, cowering inside the ball pit with its freakishly humanoid hands wrapped around its knees. It had long matted hair that looked neglected, but when it turned around revealing its face to you, you audibly gagged.

Sunken eyes that resembled two voids on its face were housing what looked to be tens of bugs, it lacked a nose but had a vertical mouth with tight sutures holding the pale rotted flesh together that began to rip and ooze this black-ish blood as it gave a feeble attempt at speaking,

“M….m….ma..ma…………..mama………p-p…..pa….papa….?” it repeated, like a broken record. Great, an abandoned child curse with bug infested eyes, no way in hell were you gonna let that thing get within five feet of you. Jumping a few steps back, you pulled a vial out of your utility belt containing an amaranthine purple liquid, and discreetly unscrewed the top, using your technique to manipulate a thread like stream of it towards the curse, allowing it to trickle into the ballpit, slowly forming a puddle.. Drip, drop, drip, drop, drip, drop..

There was no hostility in the air, although you had a feeling in your gut telling you that any wrong move or sound could warrant an attack, so you didn’t want to risk it.

Still taking calculated steps back while trying to maintain a steady stream, you still when you hear a squeak as the back of your heel comes in contact with a toy basketball, “shit” you mutter under your breath, head shooting up immediately to see the curse standing up at its full height, but it stopped its yapping now. It was quiet. Too quiet.

Sweat trickles down the side of your face, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand with goosebumps on the surface of your skin, and before you have a chance to react the curse lets out a visceral scream, lunging towards you with pure killing intent.

Your feet move on their own, just barely getting you out of line for the hit, but the curse manages to land a momentary blow on your bruised left shoulder, you hiss in pain, clutching your shoulder and sprinting into the ballpit.

The curse is fast but you evade it’s attempt to strike you again, causing it to land in the ballpit with you, it tries to reach you but the balls hinder its movements slightly, allowing you to manipulate the small puddle you trickled into the ballpit earlier, you coated a couple of balls in the liquid, imbuing the liquid surrounding them with your cursed energy and shooting one at the curse.

One lands against its abdomen, making it brutally cough up more of that black-ish blood through its mouth sutures, another scream pierces your eardrums and this time the curse rips through the threads binding its mouth closed, and you utilize this prime opportunity to launch the second ball into that bloody abyss of a mouth, it hits the back of the curses’ throat and you manipulate the liquid once more to trickle down its throat.

The curse attempts to resist, coughing out spurts of the blood-mixed cyanide you just savagely forced down its throat, it comes out of the eyes, forcing the bugs to crawl out of the void and into the curses’ hair in an attempt to seek refuge. Its unsightly, sour bile rises in the back of your throat and you swallow it down as you watch the curse asphyxiate, falling onto the blood splattered balls with its hands around its neck, trying desperately to breathe.

You almost feel bad for it, you can’t stand to look at it die so slowly anymore so you pull out a small cursed knife tool you keep on you, and chuck it through its frontal lobe. Then the silence hits, the curse disintegrates into mere particles and you make a move to pick the knife up. At the corner of your eye you spot a small window, you tuck the knife back into your utility belt and walk in its direction.

Outside the window there’s a peculiar looking building, you squint your eyes to read the sign, and you sigh, it’s a school for orphaned children..Your heart pangs in your chest for a split second as you remember yourself as an orphaned child…No, this is no time for emotions…

“Fuck them kids..” the words escape your faded glossed lips in a quiet mumble, with no real bite behind them, as you pad out of the restaurant into the somber street. You’re tired, your shoulder feels even more sore now, so you postponed picking up your new uniform..fishing your phone out of your pocket you dial Gojo-sensei’s number.

“Hello?” He picks up on the second ring, he must have been on his phone.

“Hello, Gojo-sensei? Can you come pick me up? I just finished a mission and Ijichi is in a meeting” Your voice comes out shaky, unintentionally.

“Where are you? Send me the location, are you hurt?” His tone is soft, it makes you feel tingly inside..

“I’m fine, sensei.. My shoulder is just a bit bruised up..” you gulp, why do you feel nervous right now?

“Stay where you are, i’ll be there soon” he hangs up, making a beeline to his car, still in his casual clothes. He had been lounging at home when you called, his next mission wasn’t til tomorrow afternoon so he had some rare time off for himself, but he couldn’t help but feel worried for you now, he’ll have to scold Ijichi later for leaving you all alone..after all, he does care very deeply for his students.

The sound of his motor revving fills the parking lot of his snobby rich people apartment complex, and he goes out into the night, location displayed on the screen of his luxurious car that he seldom drives.

It only takes around 10 minutes for him to reach your street, it was a quiet night and few cars littered the roads. You perk up as soon as you see him park in front of you, you hear a small click signaling that he unlocked the door, and you climb into the passenger seat, it’s comfy and spacious, fit for a princess..

“Hey, how are you feeling? Was the mission okay?” he turns towards you and you make brief eye contact over his circular glasses.

Your eyes rake over his frame and his exposed arms in a short-sleeved white tee as they flex inadvertently while he makes a U-turn. He notices you zoning out but he doesn't pay it any mind.

“Oh, uh, I’m alright, Sensei..the mission was fine, nothing I can’t handle” your words come with a grin, which he returns with a genuine one himself,

“I never doubted you, well done” the sincerity in his words mixed with his slightly hushed voice burns a pit in your lower abdomen and you inhale deeply to calm yourself down. You thank him and stare out the window, trying to distract yourself, you’re too tired to converse too deeply, despite how badly you want to.

The sight of neon signs and street lights fills your heavy lidded eyes, and you’re on the verge of sleeping when the car comes to a halt at a red light, you scan your surroundings once more and your eyes widen when you spot a sign for a private onsen. Perfect.

“Gojo-sensei!” you turn to him, excited.

“Yeah?” he smiles at you.

“Can you take me to that onsen? I feel really beat up, I could use a dip in a hot spring..” you sigh, pressing your hand to your bruised shoulder.

He hums and makes a turn onto the street, parking his car in front of the building and taking out some crisp looking notes from his wallet to hand to you,

“For the entry fee, I can pick you up when you’re done” he smiles, you take the money and pocket it, that won’t do.

“Huh? What do you mean? You’re not coming in with me?” you feign innocent confusion, and you can almost hear the gears turn in his head when he asks “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you went with Megumi and Yuji a few weeks ago, right? So why don’t you wanna go with me?” your indifference while asking him a question like that has him sweating bullets in 20 degree weather.

“Isn’t that kind of…” he gulps “..weird?” and you frown,

“Why would it be weird? It’s the same as being in a public onsen. Don’t you wanna relax too, sensei?” you shrug oh-so-casually, and he sits there for a second, pondering it seems..

‘She’s right…why am I overthinking this?’ He straightens up and shoots you a coy smile, “sure, I guess I do.. Let’s go then”,

Suppressing your smirk was no easy task, especially after pulling that off, you expected him to downright refuse, so now you have to go along with a whim you weren’t even sure was gonna play out.. Deep breaths, in, out, in, out… The car door opening startles you, when did he get there? But you clear your throat and step out, walking alongside him to the entrance of the building. There are a few vending machines that stock green tea and water outside, and the reception area is small and dimly lit.

After the fees are paid you are both shown to your private onsen, it’s overlooking a rock garden with bamboo fencing sectioning it off from the other springs, next to the door was a small shower booth, along with a rack full of unscented body wash and thin white towels. You make the first move, shedding your bag and shoes and leaving them by the door,

“Can I shower first? I’m dying to get in that water” you pout dramatically and he chuckles, but it comes out tense,

“Sure, go ahead, I’ll turn around so you can change..” and he does so immediately, facing the wall which in turn also hides his slightly blushed cheeks. “ Stop it, she’s your student. This isn’t a big deal..” he internally scolds himself, he feels conflicted, part of him wants to back out and leave, but technically, there’s nothing inherently wrong about being in an onsen with your student, he’s done it before like you said…It’s not like he got a raging boner when he saw you with a lollipop yesterday…’wait, no, that was because I ignored my morning wood, yes! I’m not a pervert!’ but his train of thoughts is derailed when he hears you coming out of the shower, your damp footsteps echoing on the floor, then he hears your dulcet voice calling out to him,

“Your turn, Gojo-sensei!” you watch as his tall figure turns around, expression unreadable behind his pitch-black glasses but you can sense his gaze on your towel clad body. He clears his throat and you take that as a hint to turn away, giving him the same privacy he gave you, despite the overwhelming urge to see him undress..you dip your foot into the steamy water, then your leg, entering with a sigh as the warmth engulfs your body, ridding you of a majority of today’s fatigue. Smooth rocks press against your skin as you lean back, getting comfortable, but you wince when your left shoulder brushes against the rock wall, so you tilt your head the opposite way and begin to massage the soreness away.

Gojo exits the shower booth with a towel wrapped around his waist, skin damp from the water and steam and the first thing he sees is the side of your pretty figure, wincing in pain as you massage your bruised shoulder, your towel was thin, clinging to you like a second skin, and his eyes subconsciously trace over the curve of your brea-

He clears his throat, determined not to let any sort of twisted thoughts plague his mind right now. The sound makes you turn to his direction, and your jaw nearly drops. Gojo-sensei was standing a few feet away from you, abs and chest muscles glistening, skin dewy with steam and staring at you through his glasses whilst you’re both clad in thin white towels.. fuck, you have to play your cards right. So you feign innocence once more, smiling softly at him and beckoning for him to come in, spewing some bullshit about how great the water feels, when the only thing on your mind at this moment is how great he would feel.

He settles into the water and you go back to massaging your shoulder, and it's as if a lightbulb went off in your head at that very second, so you pretend to struggle, groaning in frustration because you just can’t massage yourself right… and he feels bad, you’re in pain and he’s just sitting there watching, what kind of sensei would he be if he just let you stay in your sorry state when you should be relaxing? So he turns off his brain for a moment and calls out to you,

“Do you..need a hand?” he asks softly, not wanting it to sound wrong, and you bite your cheek to suppress your smile again.

“Yeah, please, sensei..” you reply with a groan, turning so that your back faces him now, “it’s really sore..I can’t bear it..” you dramatize your words. And before you know it his large hands are on your skin, he’s close enough that you can hear his breath and it makes goosebumps rise under his fingertips but he doesn’t comment on it, instead focusing on relieving his poor little student of all her unbearable pain…

His hands are practiced, experienced, he presses into your sore spots with the right amount of pressure, making you whimper and breathe shakily, which he tries his absolute hardest to ignore, to tune out, you don’t sound cute to him right now, you’re just in pain…that’s right…he’s not on the verge of losing his composure if you keep whimpering so close to him while his hands press into your ridiculously soft skin…”Focus, Satoru..” his internal voice screams at him.

But your mmh’s and ahh’s are deliberate, and they’re working. However it’s getting increasingly difficult to deal with the situation between your legs. Your thighs have been pressed together for what feels like hours now, yearning for some sort of friction, some sort of relief , and all logic flies out the window when you decide to trace your fingers up your thigh, inching your towel up slowly and discreetly, and it’s when you slide a finger against your slit that you gasp, nearly squealing at how sticky and good it felt, this startles Gojo, prompting him to ask, “are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“I’m fine, sensei…just, don’t stop…the soreness is going away” you lie through frenzied breaths, all he did was gulp and continue his ministrations. He was probably under the impression that he was helping you out, which technically he was, just not in the way that he thinks right now..poor sensei..

Your middle finger teases your folds under the towel, dipping into your slit to gather the strings of wetness and coming back up to brush lightly against your neglected clit, the feeling of his skilled hands on your body, and your fingers on your most sensitive parts is erotic, you feel light-headed at the gentle stimulation you’re giving yourself, meanwhile Gojo seems like he has his head in the clouds, hands moving on their own as he tries to distract himself enough so that he doesn’t accidentally get aroused again. He hasn’t even noticed or commented on your obscene act, you were either really good at hiding it, or he was just too focused on not focusing on you that it just went unnoticed.

Either way, you’re winning, your pointer finger joins your middle in tracing feather-light circles around your clit, pinching it lightly between the tips which has you biting your lip hard enough to draw blood, the metallic taste lingers on your tongue as your fingers pick up the pace slightly, alternating between figure eight’s and circles, going down to tease at your entrance, you’re floating, before you knew it the familiar knot twists in your stomach and suppressing your moans is starting to hurt. Your fingers lose their rhythm, no longer tracing practiced shapes, as you desperately fight to push yourself to that edge, in the most quiet way possible.

Euphoria washes over you in waves, starting from your core and spreading down into your toes, you’re breathing so heavily you could fill up an air mattress, rubbing lightly at your now swollen nub as you ride out, possibly, the most silent and scandalous orgasm you’ve ever had.

“Are you..” he coughs “are you okay? You’re uh…breathing really heavy” his voice is hoarse, he sounds…Troubled.

“Y-yeah…thank you, Gojo-sensei…that was a great..massage..” you don’t mean to pause before saying massage, but he picks up on it, his hands leave your skin and you suddenly feel cold, despite the steam surrounding your body,

“We should probably um, leave…now.” he sounds dazy, something’s definitely up with him but he’s not saying, you didn’t feel his eyes on you while you were… helping yourself out ..so it can’t be that.

He stands up, clutching his towel around his waist and steps out of the water, frantically grabbing his clothes, muttering something about needing the restroom and to meet him at the car, and he’s gone like the wind.. You shrug, feeling satisfied with what just happened so you step out of the water too, changing back into your uniform and loitering outside while you wait for Gojo-sensei, scrolling through some random social media feed..

—---------------------------------

Gojo all but breaks the restroom door down, clawing his way into a stall with the most painful boner he’s had since his late teens, he slams a fist into the wall and it cracks under his knuckles, “what the fuck just happened? Was she fucking touching herself?” The truth is, he noticed it right away, from the moment you pressed your pretty round thighs together a little too hard, he has the fucking six eyes, of course he noticed. But he ignored it, like a good sensei would, maybe he was just projecting his perverse inner thoughts onto you, his sweet innocent student, as delicate as a flower…you’d never do something that corrupt..But you did…you did? You touched yourself that way while he was massaging your shoulder and yet he still ignored it…why? He doesn’t know.

Maybe part of him wants to give you the benefit of the doubt here, maybe you were just…itchy? Yeah, that’s reasonable. Way more reasonable than his sweet doe eyed student cumming while he massaged her. There's no way. There's no way. You would never…you were too innocent..too sweet..he’s just a pervert. Fuck, he’s a pervert.

Even if you truly didn’t do that, the mere thought of it had him rock hard in the palm of his hand, fisting his leaky red tip with his forehead pressed against the cold tile of the wall, in a measly attempt to ground himself. “Stop it, Satoru…Fuck..” his internal voice blaring at him like an alarm, red and loud, telling him his thoughts are reducing him into a low-life pervy scum that shouldn’t be allowed within twenty feet of a woman.

He shouldn’t think this way, he shouldn’t be this way, he shouldn’t act this way, he’s the strongest fucking sorcerer, why is he in a single restroom stall fantasizing about his students’ warm, wet pussy right now? She didn’t even do anything, he’s the pervert here. It’s his fault for thinking of her that way. He should feel horrible, he should feel ashamed.

He’s so fucked..

He tucks his still-hard cock into his boxers, throwing the rest of his clothes on and taking deep breaths as he walks to where the car was parked. If there’s one thing Gojo Satoru knows how to do, it’s mask how he’s feeling, so he plasters on his most nonchalant smile, opening the car door for you and swallowing the saliva he didn’t know had built up in his throat. The drive back was silent, there was an unspoken tension so thick you could barely hear the faint music of his playlist over it, before you know it you’re in front of the dorm building in Jujutsu High.

You turn to Gojo-sensei and he smiles at you, bidding you goodnight and you lean in and give him a slight side hug, which makes his sleepy eyes shoot open, you whisper in his ear, “Goodnight, Gojo-sensei…see you tomorrow..”, and then you’re gone, walking off in the distance to your room, and he buries his face in palms, “you’re making this a problem, she was just saying goodnight…what’s gotten into you, Satoru?” he shakes his head at his thoughts, driving back home in total silence, not in the mood for music.

You go about your routine as normal, cheeks blushed and body on fire, you’re replying to a text from Maki when a notification rolls in..

“@Gojothestrongest1 has requested to follow you”

——————————————————

CHAPTER 3: MASQUERADE

‘Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god? Gojo-sensei requested to follow me? Right after what just happened at the onsen?’ your thoughts blare at you like a broken car horn, why is he doing it NOW of all times?

Could it be that he felt something for you? He did offer to massage you after all..but the car ride said otherwise.. He felt tense.

This is completely normal right? The rest of the students follow him so this isn’t a big deal. But if you accept it now you’ll seem desperate, which of course you are, but you can’t make it that obvious. You have to keep him on his toes, he followed you, so maybe you should wait a day or two.

Your phone bounces on the edge of the bed where you throw it, staring up at the ceiling with a heat in your cheeks that matches the one burning in your core, this means you have a chance right?

He could have refused your onsen offer, maybe he didn’t give it much thought, but he still could have taken you to any other one, there were a few in the area that were separated by gender, and he knows that. So surely he wants you a little bit right?

The thought of him potentially wanting you the same way you want him has you kicking your feet up, almost like you have a little school girl crush. Then it hits you. You are a school girl. You do have a crush. A big one at that. Maybe you’re too far in your own delusions right now, fantasizing about a man 10 years older than you, but something in your gut tells you to grab your running shoes and chase those delusions at full speed.

It’s the weekend tomorrow so you’ll have plenty of time to delude yourself into thinking he’s into you, so you hug your pillow and drift away for the night.

—-----------------------------

“Hey- ouch! That hurts!” you exclaim, bringing your hand down to massage your poor inner thigh that is currently being stretched way past it’s limit

“Your combat has been shit lately, so shut up and stretch” Maki rolls her eyes pushing further down on your shoulders so you sink deeper into the splits “It’s not even that bad. Baby”

“Urgh, how nice of you to call your senpai that while t-torturing her,” you groan in response, “But I think you’re getting me mixed up with your overseas boyfr- OUCH!” She cuts you off with a smack on the head.

“First of all, I wasn’t calling you a pet name, I was calling you a baby. It was an insult, and second, he’s not my boyfriend” she scoffs, plopping down on her own yoga mat next to yours, giving a slight chuckle when she sees your pained expression as you maneuver your way out of the hellish stretch to a more normal sitting position.

“Aw, long distance not working out?” you tease, watching her cheeks grow red which she tries to mask with a hand on her face and furrowed eyebrows, ‘cute’ You think to yourself, as you take a sip from your water bottle, nearly choking when she points her middle finger at you. “That’s no way to treat your elders, you know” you smirk.

“Maybe if said elder wasn’t a bitch, I would respect her more” she jabs, stifling a laugh when you exaggerate your gasp, putting a show of putting your hand on your heart to show how offended you are.

“Damn, kids these days” you shake your head, laying back down on the silicone on your mat and staring up at the crows perched on top of the tree you’re using for shade.

“Oh shut up” she laughs, grabbing her phone and scrolling through her socials, she visibly cringes all of a sudden and sighs, “That blindfolded idiot doesn’t know how to post just one picture does he?”, which catches your attention.

“What was that?” you turn your head to the side to look at her, to which she answers

“Just Satoru making it everyone’s problem that he can’t decide on a suit. I swear whoever put this old man on social media is gonna have to pa- hey!” She’s cut off by you lunging for her phone, grabbing hold of the device to feast your eyes on the sight that is Gojo Satoru’s instagram story of him at an expensive looking suit shop.

You click through what feels like over fifty mirror selfies of him with various suits on, you can’t see his face but you can see the side of his sharp jawline and his mess of white hair, ‘he must not be wearing his blindfold because it looks softer than usual, fuck. He looks good.’

“Um, hello? What was that about?” Maki questions, taken aback at your sudden brashness.

“Do you know where he’s going?” You ignore her and question back eagerly, looking up at her with a devious sparkle in your eyes that she’s never seen before.

“Uhh, some masquerade ball at this hotel in Roppongi, apparently Nanami had bought himself a ticket a while back but he can’t go anymore so he gave it to Satoru. He’s been blabbing all week about he’s gonna come back as a ‘Refined gentleman’ and how he’ll ‘Give Nanami a run for his money’ from it” She explains, making finger quotes while trying not to visibly cringe, “Why do you wanna know anyways?” She raises an eyebrow at you.

“Oh, no reason” You toss her phone back to her, averting her suspicious gaze as you stand back up and begin to roll your yoga mat up.

“You’re going already? It’s barely noon” Her eyebrow raises again, trying to spot an ounce of bullshit in your words, you simply shrug and pick your things up, smiling down at her to say “I have a date, gotta go get ready, though you wouldn’t know about that 'cus your love life is like your cursed energy” you poke your tongue out at her and she laughs in disbelief.

“You really are a bitch!” She shouts at you while you walk back to the dorms.

“Love you toooooo!” You shout back, grateful you were able to evade her suspicions, you think.

—-----------------------------

You practically run out the door the second you change out of your sweaty active wear, not bothering to hop in the shower, you’ll do it later anyways. Jujutsu high was a fair distance away from the city center so that gives you plenty of time to phone up some hotels in Roppongi to ask about this alleged masquerade ball.

You have a few stops left on the bus before you get to the shopping district, It was one you frequented so you know the shops well, you dial the next hotel on the list while staring out the window, sighing as a knot twist in your stomach, 'this is probably futile, I’ve called so many already..'

Mentally preparing yourself for yet another fail, when you ask about the ball, but to your surprise the person on the other end of the phone answers,

“Yes we are hosting an anonymous masquerade ball tonight from 7, Tickets can be purchased for the drinks bar but the ball itself is free to attend!”

'Finally! Wait..did he say'..” Anonymous?” you question, to which the worker explains that one of the rules was to refrain from sharing any personal information about oneself, including names. Interesting, must explain the whole mask thing.

The bus comes to a stop and you hop off, striding down the busy streets to this dress shop you heard Nobara rave about a few weeks ago, it was fancy, way more than you could afford right now, but you’re already making unwise decisions, so will it really hurt to add financial ones to the list?

Probably, but all you can really think of now is how to dress to attract, you're no stranger to balls, you’ve attended a handful with your parents as a child, but that was before the… Nope. Not today.

Clearing your throat, you step into the shop, eyeing the racks of couture dresses and shoes to match, you feel the materials, occasionally pulling one off the rails and holding it to your body in the mirror to contemplate,

“Can I help you with something, miss?” A saleswoman calls out to you, waving politely from behind you, you turn around to speak,

“Oh, I’m actually going to a ball tonight, a masquerade.. Do you happen to have any masks here?” You explain.

“You’re in the right place! Masks and accessories are on the floor above, would you like me to lead you there?” She smiles, and you nod, eager to see the options as it all finally starts to come together in your head, you’re that much closer..

You follow her with a nervous smile, still holding on to that last dress you pulled off the rail, she takes you up the elevator, leading you to a lavish looking accessory room. You’re browsing the seemingly endless options of masks and jewellery when she suddenly cuts in,

“Um, I couldn’t help but notice, the dress you picked out is a dark navy..Are you a fan of the color blue?” She questions, you look down at the silk dress draped over your arm. Blue, huh?

“I guess you could say so? I mostly picked this out for the shape and the material, why do you ask?” You smile back, curious to hear what she has to say.

“Well..If you’re set on that option, I would suggest that you pair it with something like this..” She approaches with a black box in her hands, inside it is a Venetian style mask, decked with silver trimmings and crystals, in a piercing shade of blue…a very familiar piercing shade of blue..

You can’t help the chuckle that leaves your mouth in disbelief, this is golden , what are the odds?

“I’ll take it. And the dress. And the matching pumps.” You grin, despite the ridiculous amount of money you’ll have to cough up, you can’t miss out on this.

The saleswoman triumphantly guides you to the cash register after grabbing your size in the dress and heels. You try to seem nonchalant when she rings you up, but you can practically hear the faint screams of your bank account when you swipe your card to pay. No wonder Nobara only shops with Gojo’s Card..

—-----------------------------

“Champagne?” A server approaches with a tray,

“Oh, No thank you” You politely decline, you’ve been here for an hour already and there’s no sign of Gojo-sensei anywhere.. It's starting to get busier by the minute, but you aren’t giving up now, not after spending an ungodly amount of money and time getting ready. A few attendants compliment you, more notably, your mask, you opted for a subtle makeup look, focusing on your eyes to make them prominent under the mask.

Nobody can tell who you are even if they try, the mask covers the top half of your face, and your hair is done up rather than being worn down. You look different. Hopefully different enough to the point where a certain white haired man won’t recognise you.

Speaking of white hair, your heart skips out of your chest when you see a flash of it towering over the countless heads in the crowd. He’s here. Gulping, you decide to follow as he makes his way to the bar, he chats with the bartender for a minute, you can’t hear him over the music but you can finally see him properly.

Slicked back hair, a black and gold phantom mask, and an all black suit and tie. Holy fuck, he looks alluring.

You’re too engrossed in his ridiculously attractive face to notice the flock of women that begin to surround him, all too nervous to make the first move, yet for some reason he pays them no mind, simply opting to lean against the bar and take large sips of his overly fruity cocktail while crowd watching. He finishes his drink relatively fast, motioning for the bartender to make him another, and you decide to approach him.

His eyes land on you the second you infiltrate the busy bar area, breath hitching when he realises you’re about to talk to him. Truth is, he spotted you moments after he walked in, your cursed energy was practically seeping out from how nervous you are. He thought it may be a coincidence until you start following him, and now approaching him, before he has time to collect his thoughts properly, you’re draping yourself over the counter, arms crossing over it as you peer up at him through your blue mask and long eyelashes.

He glances down at you from the side, sipping on his cocktail and masking his nerves with a trademark smirk, “Hm? What have we here? Can I help you, pretty girl?” He tries not to stare down the curve of your breasts where the dress dips, but from where he towers over you it’s inevitable…

“Maybe, I just happened to spot a handsome stranger all by himself so I thought I’d keep him company” You smirk back, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, making him chuckle. ‘Stranger, huh?’ He thinks.

“I’m honoured” He grins, taking yet another large sip of his cocktail, “Any reason you chose me out of all the men here?” his eyebrow rises with the question.

“Why do you ask?” You question back, to which he lightly sighs, ditching the cocktail straw and chugging the rest of the tall glass in one go.

“Hm, I don’t know, I just thought I seemed a little old for you..” He answers, silently praying you’ll give up your flirtatious antics and move on to the next man. But all you do is bat your eyelashes at him with an innocent smile before saying,

“Not that I know how old you are, but..” You stand on you tip toes, leaning over his shoulder to whisper in his ear “What if I like it that way?”

You don’t miss the way his grip on the counter tightens, splintering the wood under his nails, and for a moment you linger, breathing against the shell of his ear, waiting for him to break the silence but he doesn’t.

His mind runs a mile a minute, he shouldn’t have had any to drink, 'fuck, i’m a lightweight'.

The mix of alcohol and conflicting emotions he’s feeling for you since the night before at the onsen is stirring his head up.

Surely you know it’s him, right? But why would you knowingly approach your teacher and say that? No. You would never. If you knew it was him, you would have said so. Maybe he’s reading too deep into this. He was wearing a mask after all.

Before he has the chance to respond, you brush your lips against his earlobe, leaving a faint lipstick stain as you whisper once more, “meet me in the bathrooms outside the main hall”, Disappearing into the crowds with a pounding in your chest, equal to the one in his pants right now.

'So she doesn’t know. She thinks I'm just some stranger. Why does she want me to meet her there? Wait, don’t be stupid, Satoru. You know exactly why. Fuck. Should I do it? What would your reaction be if you found out you just flirted with your teacher? You would be mortified…right…?'

He sighs deeply, staring at the door to the bathrooms, how the fuck did he even get here?

'Should I go in? I mean, I’m already here. Might as well, right? Maybe she just wants to talk..yeah..talk..' He tries to reason with himself.

With shaky hands, he pushes the door open, stepping in to find you sitting on the sink counter, patiently tapping your nails on the ceramic. The side slit in your dress fell to the side, exposing your crossed legs to him. Your head shoots towards the door and you smile, turning your body slightly to face the door,

“You came” You jump off the sink to stand at your full height, waiting patiently for his next move with a glint in your eyes behind the mask.

He’s trying, he’s really trying to hold himself back, but the alcohol stirring his head up, and the way you’re looking at him like you’re famished, and the fact that you apparently don’t know that it’s him.. He’s seconds away from breaking.

'She’ll never know, right? Fuck’

He’d be a horrible person for doing this, but he wants you so badly right now. If it wasn’t for the liquid courage he would have never found himself here in the first place.

Click, clack, your heels echo as you make your way towards him, reaching one arm behind his back to lock the door and the other arm around his neck, pulling him inches away from your face, your heart is racing, you feel like you’re about to faint if he doesn’t kiss you right now.

Staring into his eyes, your lip quirks up into a half smirk to say “So..?” in a challenging tone, and he breathes in sharply through his nose.

'She’ll never know, right?.'

'Fuck it.'

His lips smash against your own in desperation, you move in tandem with him as he brings his hands down to your waist and backs you up to the sink again. The edge pokes at your lower back and you squeal when he hoists you up with no effort to sit you down, never once separating his lips from yours.

Your bodies are on fire, the rush you both have from knowing how wrong it is to be doing this is only serving to amplify the lust and attraction, you moan into his mouth and he groans, pulling back and breathing so heavily that you start to wonder, 'is he okay?'

Though your mind only falters for a split second, as his lips are back on yours in an instant, licking your bottom lip 'til you grant him access, he slips his tongue into your mouth and just when it’s starting to get heated, he pulls away, you see a look of uncertainty flash across his face and he drops his head down to kiss at your jaw instead,

His lips trail down the side of your jaw down to your neck, he bites at your sweet spot, and your mind blanks when he sucks at it lightly and runs his tongue across it, you can’t help the moans that escape your lips. His breath stutters when he hears your pretty voice, hands trailing down the sides of your waist, sliding to your lower back, and grazing the curve of your ass lightly, he brings his lips closer to yours again, brushing against them as you pant against him.

“Please, just touch me already..” you plead, voice laced with a desperation he just can’t deny right now.

So he slots himself between your legs, brushing his hands up and down the tops of your thighs, slowly opening your legs up for him and you shudder when the cool air hits your most sensitive parts. Taking one of his hands and cupping your heat, he expects to find the damp fabric of your panties, but is instead met with the slick dripping off your bare pussy, he groans in surprise, length twitching in his suit trousers when he feels you hot and wet against his palm,

“Shit, no panties huh?” He smirks, surprising himself with how into this he is when says, “Kind of feels like you planned this, pretty girl”. You whimper in response, grinding your hips into his hand and he grabs your hip to stop you.

“Use your words. What do you want, hm?” He asks, biting at your neck again.

Your mind is so hazy you can barely form a sentence, still in disbelief that you’re actually here right now, spreading your legs for none other than Gojo-Sensei, and he doesn’t even know it's you.

Through frenzied breaths you manage to choke out, “F-fingers..I want your fingers..please..” And he bites his lip so hard he starts to taste metal. 'So polite, so cute and needy, you don’t even know who you’re begging right now..This is so fucked, but i’m already here. Might as well finish what I started right?'

A long finger teases your folds, dipping into your heat for a split second and pulling back out to trace feather light circles over your clit.

You’re dying at this point, head tipping down to nuzzle into the crook of his neck as you whine, begging “please, please, do something..” you shudder, and he rubs a hand along your back soothingly.

“Shh, I got you, baby.. Only ‘cus you asked so nicely..” He coos, sliding his middle finger inside you to the base of his knuckle, and you gasp, his fingers are so much bigger than yours, and that’s only one..

He starts to slide it out slowly, pushing it back in with a curl to prod at that spongy spot that has you gripping his bicep and digging your nails into it, “Right there?” He adds another finger, curling them up at your G-spot again, and you nod frantically, moaning so sweetly for him while he stretches your impossibly tight cunt.

For a short while, it drowns out any stray thoughts about morals or about this being wrong.. All he cares about right now is your sweet little pussy, dripping all over his fingers and squeezing him for dear life. 'You’ll need way more prep if you’re going to take my cock..Fuck, if you’re this tight around my fingers then..'

His groans and your moans fill the atmosphere, along with the lewd squelching of your arousal as he finger fucks you, hard. He brings his other hand forward to slide your dress straps down, freeing your breasts, he’s quick to bring his head down, placing open mouthed kisses all over and in the valley between them, he then latches his lips onto one of your nipples, peering up at you through his phantom mask, never letting up his pace with his fingers.

Your eyes meet and he bites down lightly, causing you to arch your back and furrow your brows, “Fuck, fuck, fuck… ”, and he chuckles when he feels you start to clamp down on his fingers,

“Sensitive? Are you close, baby?” He whispers, tweaking your other nipple with his fingers, and you nod again, throwing your head back against the sink mirror as you near your release, and he knows it, he feels it.

“Cum for me, pretty girl, go on, make a mess for me”, He breathes against your mouth, just barely brushing his lips against yours but not kissing them, and your coil snaps, you moan loudly as you come down from your high, thighs shaking uncontrollably, this is your first orgasm that wasn’t self induced. And it was given to you by Gojo-Sensei..Your mind feels so foggy..

His fingers slow their pace, helping you ride it out as he feels your cum coat his fingers, and he wants to do it again, he wants, no, he needs to feel you cum again, but on his cock this time..

In the blink of an eye he grabs your legs and pulls you forward, you yelp when you feel your ass hang off the sink, but he grabs you and wraps your legs around his waist, pressing the large tent in his pants into your still throbbing cunt, and it feels so big..

You’re still recovering from your orgasm when he grinds into you, making your body shake, and bringing his lips to your ear to whisper “Think you can take my cock now, baby? Think that little pussy is ready for me?” He grinds into you again, making your eyes roll back.

“B-but..” You hesitate, and he looks you in the eye,

“But what..?” He raises an eyebrow at you, unsure of what could possibly come out of your mouth next..

“I’m…a virgin..” You confess, peering up at him through your mask, as you see him freeze, and your stomach drops. ‘Fuck. I shouldn’t have said that.’

“A…Virgin..” He repeats, slowly, trying to process the information. ‘She’s…a virgin. She’s a virgin. Wait. Of course she’s a fucking a virgin. She’s so innocent. She’s my student. Oh god. She’s my fucking student. What have I done? She doesn’t even know it’s me. Fuck. Yep, the alcohol just wore off. This is too far. I went too far.’

He slowly sets your legs down to the floor, taking a step back with a deep breath, ‘calm down, Satoru, just make an excuse to leave now, and freak out about it at home.’

Pulling his phone out and enacting an emergency, he dramatically gasps at his screen, placing a hand on his cheek as he fakes reading a supposedly very important text message,

“Ahhh, shit, so sorry sweetheart, I really have to go, I uh.. My son's dog, he’s really sick! Throwing up all over the house, it’s really bad..” He inches closer to the door,

“We might need to put him down! Poor thing, practically waiting to be put out of his misery now. I’ll have to console my son and everything..You know how it is! Thanks for understanding! Take care!” He tries to pull the door open, but it’s locked, “Shit” he mutters under his breath, turning the lock as quickly as he can and all but lunging out the door to run to his car where he can panic in peace.

No fucking way.

You’re left dumbfounded, staring at the door with trembling thighs and a slightly dropped jaw. He did not just do that. You try not to take it personally, I mean, he literally didn’t know it was you, but wow, that was…wow..

Your lip starts to tremble slightly as thoughts flood your mind, ‘why didn’t he wanna fuck me?! Is it because I'm a virgin? Fuck, I shouldn’t have told him..’ You rip your mask off, tossing it away on the floor, and all but ripping your hair out of your up-do. What if this was your only chance with him and you just blew it?

Walking out of the bathroom, you feel tears staining your cheek and your mascara run but you don’t care in the slightest. Avoiding any and all reflective objects so as to not witness the hot mess you are right now.

One chance. You had one chance to actually fuck the man of your dreams and you blew it. You were so close, he fingered you, he fucking fingered you and then you fumbled. Fuck, you hate yourself.

Not even thinking twice, you make your way out of the main hall, trudging down the parking lot onto the street and into the nearest bar. Alcohol will help. Alcohol always helps.

---------------------------

A shot turns into two, then to three, then to who knows how many, you lost count, but you’re drinking! Who doesn’t love to drink? Not you, you fucking love it. Drinking makes the feelings go away!

“Excuse moi! Can I haveee just oneeeeeee more shot of Tenquila? Pleaseeeeeee?” You slur your words to the poor bartender who looks at you with concern.

“I think you’ve had enough te-quila miss. Ten shots to be exact. Do you have anyone that can take you home?” He questions, hoping you would say yes.

“Boooooo! I still wanna drink though!” You frown, making a thumbs down gesture at the bartender who is definitely not getting paid enough to deal with this.

“Miss, either you call someone or we’ll call you a cab, but I’m kicking you out. For your own good.” He says sternly, instantly regretting it when he sees your eyes well up with tears.

“FINE!” You sniffle, fishing your phone out of your purse, and dialling the first person that comes to mind..

Though your little drunk self doesn’t seem to notice, or care, that she hears a phone ring behind her, at the exact moment she is making the call, which picks up in an instant anyways. You don’t give him a chance to answer before you shout through the speaker,

“GOJO-SENSEI…CAN YOU COME PICK ME UP? I’M B-BEING KICKED O-OUT…F-FROM A BAR..” You shout, in between sniffles and sobs, throwing your head down on the bar counter and closing your eyes.

A minute or so passes but it feels like ten, because when you lift your head up, Gojo sensei is paying your bill and leaning forward to drape your wobbly arms around his shoulders.

“Sensei! Y-you came! That was fast!” You exclaim, hiccuping mid sentence as you stare at his face, his hair is up and he has his blindfold on now, you throw your head on his chest as he picks you up from the bar chair, bridal style.

“Yeah, of course I came, darling, Let’s get you home, okay?” He swallows the lump in his throat, still beating himself up about what happened earlier. He took advantage of you and you didn’t even know, and here you are, thinking of him first to call for help.

The guilt hits him hard when you nuzzle into his neck during the walk to the car, drunkenly muttering something about how he makes you feel so safe. You’re so pure and wholesome. He’s just disgusting.

But still, he can't help the small smile that creeps up on his lips every time he glances over at you, passed out in the back seat on the way back to the dorms. He’ll make it up to you, he’ll atone, in his own way.

How you didn’t notice him following you down the street and into the bar to keep an eye on you was beyond him. He must have really upset you when he left so suddenly, but it was the right thing to do.

He’ll have to teach you more about noticing your surroundings, what if you had been stalked by someone, or ambushed by a curse in your vulnerable state? He sighs while carrying you into your room, setting you down on your bed as slowly as he can to avoid waking you.

Your heels clack on the ground where he disposes of them, before pulling the covers over your body. For a second, he stares down at you, taking off his blindfold to really look at you. Runny mascara, disheveled hair, and a crease between your brows as you drift off into dreamland.

He’s unsure of what he feels at this moment. Guilt? Lust? Confusion? All the above?

A light snore snaps him out of his thoughts. Right, he should let you sleep, after all that happened, this is the least he can do..

“Goodnight, pretty girl” He bites the inside of his cheek, as he leaves your room, sighing as he teleports into his own.

Stripping off his clothes, he lays his head on the pillow, arms crossed over his chest as he stares into the ceiling, knowing at least one thing for sure;

He’s not getting any sleep tonight.

————————————————

Chapter 4: CRUSH?

Nausea, a thrumming headache, and bile rising in the back of your throat are what greet you the second you open your eyes. Clearly last night went great for you, though your hazy mind is telling of the fact that you will have no recollection of it for a while.

It’s not exactly pleasant, spending the first portion of your morning hunched over the toilet bowl, spilling your guts (and regrets) from the night before, but in a way it’s like you’re letting it all go, flushing it down the drain where it belongs so you can pretend it never happened and peacefully move on.

Which, speaking of what happened, what the fuck did you even do last night? Do you even wanna know? Probably not. But judging by the fact that you went out drinking and ended up in your own bed, clearly nothing happened with Gojo-sensei.

You’ll take this failed attempt with a grain of salt, there’s always more chances after all, or at least those are the bullshit words you’re spewing at yourself now to make you feel better.

Accepting that fact, you spend the rest of your morning fighting through the urge to go back to sleep while you get ready for your mission later today. You’re supposed to be joining Yuji and Nanami to gather more leads on the patchface curse, but Gojo will be taking you there, and regrouping with you all at the end of the day.

All the more reason to get dolled up, aside from masking the fact that you look and feel like a walking corpse, courtesy of your lovely hangover of course. Cherry lip gloss, fake eyelashes, and a bow in your hair are enough to do the trick, you reckon.

You decide to grab a quick bite before heading over to the main building to meet Gojo. You’ll need the energy to prepare for whatever antics you have in store for this poor man today. On your way to the cafeteria, you get a message informing you that your new uniform is ready for pick-up today. Perfect, Gojo-sensei can drop you off.

—------------------------

“Morning, Sensei!” You shout, walking across the courtyard to his car and he waves back in your direction, leaning against the hood and scrolling on his phone, he immediately stuffs it into his pocket when he sees you and straightens up.

“You’re early, that eager to work with Yuji again?” He smiles, remembering how well your previous missions with the pink haired boy all went. He opens the car door for you to climb in.

“Maybe i’m just eager to see you” You smile, buckling yourself in while he climbs in next to you, doing the same, though his hands fumble with the buckle slightly when you give your reply. He quickly catches himself, coughing and fixing his rearview mirror as he shifts the topic, a little more tensely,

“Did you eat breakfast?” He asks.

“Oh, yeah I did, actually..do you mind taking me somewhere?” You ask back, tilting your head and looking at his side profile. He opted for his blindfold today, his hair sticking up, accentuating his side profile. His sharp jaw and long nose make him look nothing short of a sculpture, something someone spent hours of their time carving and shaping into absolute perfection. He licks his lips in contemplation, the thin layer of saliva casts a small sheen on them, and you can’t help but lick your lips back at the thought of how they would feel on top of yours, it invades your mind, the same way the artificial cherry of your gloss invades your mouth, a taste you’re sure a certain somebody with a sweet tooth would love.

You’re positive you’re wearing these emotions on your sleeve, at least it’s enough for him to sense it, since he shifts his attention back to the road, his smile falling a little at how intensely you’re staring, a sort of hunger present behind those wispy lashes of yours, not bold enough to comment on it, but it subtle enough for a man as perceptive as himself to pick up on.

“What-” He clears his throat “Where do you want to go? I don’t mind if it’s on the way.”

“The tailors” You reply, reaching into your bag and pulling out a lollipop, the rustling grabs his attention and he looks over.

“The tailors? You got a new uniform?” He asks, typing in the location to the tailors on his phone, and smiling at you.

“Mhm, everyone’s switching to summer uniforms lately. Thought I was due for an upgrade” You explain, extending your lollipop to him with a small tilt to your head, and he shakes his in response, thanking you anyways for the offer, you shrug and pop the plastic off, wrapping your lips around the candy with a satisfied hum, muttering a soft “your loss” as the sugar melts on your tongue.

It really is the simple things in life that fill you with joy, like the taste of artificial fruits, and the blush your sensei is so obviously trying to hide while he forces himself to focus on the road rather than your sweet little hums as you suck, and suck, and suck on the sugary treat, a little more feverishly than a normal person might. 'You must really love candy', he thinks. Swallowing down the saliva he didn’t know gathered in his throat.

You decide to bite some more, not sure if you can chew it all just yet, but still biting for the thrill of it.

“You sure you don’t want some? I know you have a sweet tooth like me” You pout, taking the sucker out of your mouth with an audible pop, holding it up to his face, and a groan dies in his throat. This is basically indirect kissing, right? Or is he overthinking this? Technically, he already kissed you once before, even though you didn’t know it was him, and you ended up getting trashed hours later and passed out in the back of his car.

He must have gotten lost in thought for a while because you start waving it around, pouting as you say “Come on, share with me! It’s too big for me to suck on all by myself” Suppressing your smirk at the last line as you enunciate each word with a soft whine.

He stiffens a little, mind going a hundred miles a minute as he tries not to focus on how every word you say somehow translates into an innuendo in his sick mind. There’s nothing inherently wrong with what you said, or what you’re offering.

He’s the weird one here. You’re just dying to share this lollipop with him. Who is he to refuse, especially when you’re being so kind to offer it twice. 'What’s sharing a piece of candy with your student, right?' he tells himself.

He opens his mouth, and you giggle, plopping your lollipop onto his tongue, his lips wrap around the candy and his breath hitches slightly, the sucker had your saliva all over it, he can taste you faintly in between the notes of sugar and fruit, and although light, it still overpowers the sweetness of the candy to him, all he can taste is you, not the same way he did a few moons ago at the ball, but still tasting you nonetheless. And just as he remembers, you’re sweeter than any candy. He unintentionally sucks harder, hoping to sap every last drop you left on there. If he can’t kiss you the way he wants again, he’ll savor any taste of you he can get.

‘This is messed up’ He thinks. How his tongue swirls around the candy languidly, savoring the taste. To the external eye, he’s just nursing a lollipop. And just as he thought, when he turns his attention back to you, you’re zoned out, tapping your prettily manicured nails atop his window. Unaware that his pervy self is concealing a semi because you're sweet enough to share a candy with him.

‘Damn, I need to get laid soon..’ He shakes his head, deeming that the case for his teen-like hormonal surge as of late. He doesn’t need you, he can’t need you, he just needs someone to relieve him of his tension. But no matter how hard he tries, he can’t escape the mental image of you with your dress tugged down your pretty tits, head thrown back in ecstasy as you moan and gush all over his fing-

“Your destination is on the right!” The GPS announces, snapping him out of his lewd train of thought. With a shaky sigh, he pulls into the parking spot.

“I need to make a call, so you go ahead.” He lies through his teeth, leaning forward to hide the growing tent between his legs. Maybe he should ask for a looser pair of pants while he’s here..

“Hm, okay, I’ll be quick, but first-” You smile, daringly leaning over to place a quick peck on his cheek and to your surprise, he lets you, dropping his infinity barrier a second before your sticky plump lips meet the softness of his cheek. He freezes and you take the chance to slip the lollipop out of his mouth, popping it into your own with a smirk, leaving the car before he even has a chance to speak. He sits there for a moment, processing what just happened. It was just a sweet gesture right? No ill intentions behind it..Right?

Your lipgloss stains his cheek, and he brings a hand up to his face, brushing over the pigment, transferring the residue to his thumb. He observes the soft sheen, slightly red with specks of iridescence. It glimmers under the sunlight that seeps in through the cracks in the clouds. It’s pretty, he thinks, the subtlety of the color perfectly compliments a sweetheart such as yourself. It’s a downright shame the thoughts that plague his mind are anything but sweet.

With a gentle lick to his thumb to rid it of the stain, and a long sigh, he throws his head down onto the steering wheel, sliding a hand down over his trousers to grip his now fully hard erection with a hiss. He needs to stop. From now, all he’ll think about today is Gakuganji in the shower, another mental image he’ll never be able to erase, but a far less thrilling one. It’s humorous how quickly his hard-on went limp in his hand, and he silently thanks himself from 12 years in the past for breaking into the old geezers quarters to replace his shampoo with hair removal cream.

Minutes pass, and he finds himself reminiscing on his school days with a soft smile, one that slightly falters when you enter the car again, in a much shorter skirt.

One that was definitely borderline against school rules, especially with the way you’re sporting it with no tights underneath. Normally he wouldn’t care about things this trivial, you have the freedom to wear whatever you want anyways. But he’s sure you’ll rub some staff members the wrong way while practically parading around in a mini-skirt. He clears his throat, pulling out of the parking spot and handing you his phone.

“Wanna play music?” He offers, and you accept, scrolling through the music app to find your favorite songs and adding them into a playlist titled “ Your fav student :P”

The rest of the car ride is silent, but it’s comfortable. Apart from your occasional hums and mumbles to the song lyrics, there’s no pressure from either of you to hold small talk or conversation. Gojo-sensei drives relaxedly, an easy smile on his face, his eyes flicker to your thighs every once in a while, sighing in the process, and thankful he wore his blindfold today, so you wouldn’t see the way he ogles you, simultaneously wanting to punch himself for letting his gaze wander yet again.

When he drops you off with Nanami and Yuji, he bids you all farewell, and unsurprisingly, you lean in to give him a hug before he leaves, which prompts Yuji to do the same, throwing himself into the mix like a hyper-active puppy that just wants to be included, screaming “Group hug!”

“Alright alright, get in here both of you!” Gojo chuckles, wrapping both his arms around yours and Yuji’s shoulders, tucking you under his freakishly long arms. His large hands rest atop your heads, ruffling your hair as you squirm around, the three of you laughing like idiots.

The sudden sound of a throat being cleared snaps you all out of it, the blonde haired man standing before you seems unimpressed to say the least.

“Gojo-san, if you’ll excuse us, we have a lot of work to get on with. Please reserve your foolishness for another time.”

“Someone’s a buzz kill..” Gojo mumbles, dropping his arms to his sides, and stepping back. You turn to face him, cupping your hand around your mouth as you whisper shout “We’ll resume this later!” With a grin, and he chuckles in response, waving you off as he walks back to the car.

You turn back to face Nanami, who is already eyeing you up and down with an unreadable expression on his face. You had never worked with him before, but you’re no stranger to teaming up with Yuji. At least he’ll make this fun, you think.

A monotone voice calling your name forces you to straighten up, you lock eyes with Nanami as he blatantly says,

“I understand you’re Gojo-san’s student as well, let me make it clear that I am not of the same mindset. I expect you to be on your best behavior if you’d like to stay on this mission.” You frown at his words, what’s that supposed to mean?

Yuji must have sensed your discomfort because he immediately resorts to damage control, laughing nervously with a hand behind his head as he reassures you, “Nanamin is like that with everyone, he was even worse with me at first. Don’t let it get to you.” He smiles, and you can’t help but feel your heart warm. Perhaps this mission won’t go so badly after all.

Nanami interjects with a sigh, fixing his ugly glasses as he says to Yuji “I told you to stop calling me that.”

Yuji shrugs, retorting with a simple “Loosen up, Nanamin!”, to which the drained looking man sighs for what seems to be the 20th time in the span of a few minutes, opting to shake his head and start talking the two of you through the plan for today. He goes on, and on, seemingly never stopping with his useless explanations.

'It’s just a stupid curse' you think. you can all just tag team it and get it over with in a day. Why does he have to overcomplicate it? You rest your chin in the palm of your hand, struggling to keep your eyes open.

It's going to be a long day..

—------------------------

“They’re human.” Shoko confirms your suspicions over the phone, causing a tension so thick in the room it nearly starts to feel stuffy. You had noticed it, from the moment the first few transfigured curses fell at your hands. Something felt off, Yuji sensed it too. It was only when Nanami took a photo of the curses’ arm that you knew. But hearing it out loud just makes it more real.

Your eyes drift to Yuji, who is seated beside you on the small sofa, across from Nanami. His gaze never leaves the ground. He’s sulking, despite Shoko reassuring the two of you over the phone that you didn’t kill them, they were already dead. Death in this sense is upsetting, but it isn’t major to you, nor is the act of killing another human for that matter. Though for Yuji it seems to be a completely different case, you know he’s beating himself up about it. He’s empathetic, the type to really feel affected by the suffering of others. You admire how he wears his heart on his sleeve, unlike you who buries all your pain in the back of your throat and swallows it whole without chewing.

“Yuji?” You call him softly, and he meets your gaze for the first time since sitting down. “You mind showing me the restroom? I forgot where it was here.” You smile, and he smiles back gently. He knows you’re lying. There’s signs all over the building that lead you to where you need to be, but he still stands up, getting the message that you’d like a minute alone with him.

You reach the end of the hallway when he finally turns to ask “What did you wan- oh.” You silence him with a tight embrace, wrapping an arm around his neck and another around his head, bringing his face down to your shoulder.

“Shut up. Just let me comfort you.” You whisper, rubbing his shoulder soothingly as he relaxes into your hold, his sniffles are muffled against the fabric of your uniform, as he lets it all out.

“Senpai, I-” he tries to speak again, but you cut in once more, knowing what he needs most now is to hear “You’re not alone. Whatever you’re shouldering, I will too.” You smile when he hugs you tighter, nodding as he wipes away the tears threatening to spill from his ducts.

“And don’t call me Senpai. It makes me feel old.” You poke at his side, and he squirms, smiling and pushing your hand away.“You are old though.” He jokes, but you punch his arm, making him wince like a child and laugh.

“Alright, that’s enough comfort then. You don’t deserve it anymore.” You laugh with him, both of you walking back to the room where Nanami is. You’re unsurprised when you see Gojo-sensei in the same room. He did say he was going to regroup with you all at the end of the day. Yuji brightens up when you sees him, rushing to his side on the small sofa.

You follow with a smile, waving at Gojo as you approach the group, though you quickly realize there’s nowhere for you to sit now. The 2-seater sofa is occupied by Yuji and Gojo, and atop the only other chair in the room sits Nanami.

Gojo notices and makes a move to get up and offer his seat to you, but in a swift movement, you grab his arm to stop him, slotting yourself in his lap before he even has a chance to interject. He freezes. Nanami freezes. Your heart races, knowing this could either go very smoothly, or very badly. Though, to your surprise, Gojo simply clears his throat, relaxing back on the sofa as he turns his head to Nanami.

“So. Where were we?” He asks, as if nothing just happened. As if your perky little ass isn’t seated right on his crotch in front of another student and a coworker. He can’t let this get to him. Not in front of everyone. You’re just taking a seat. Nothing more, nothing less. It just so happens that your already-too-short skirt has ridden up enough for him to feel everything.

Nanami moves the topic quickly, continuing his explanation to Gojo about the events that occurred and the leads you were able to get today. You, on the other hand, are still not making it any easier for your poor sensei.

You absentmindedly tap your nails against the arm of the sofa, shifting in Gojo’s lap to get more comfortable. A particular shift from your hips causes his cock to twitch. He groans, disguising the noise with a cough. He gently places a hand on your upper hip, stilling your movements with a deep breath as he tries for the life of him to focus on anything but the warmth emanating from between your plush thighs. ‘Naked Gakuganji, Naked Gakuganji…’ He repeats in his own head like a mantra.

He talks back and forth with Nanami, discussing the next steps in tracking down the patch-face curse, you couldn’t be bothered to listen, knowing it’ll all get simplified in an email later on anyways. You must have been pretty zoned out because a tap on your hip snaps you back to reality.

The reality where Nanami is staring you dead in the eyes as he speaks, with anything but a gentle tone, “...As as I was saying. Will you and Itadori-kun excuse us for a minute? I need to have a word with Gojo-san. Alone.” He emphasizes the last few words, making it clear he wants the two of you gone, now.

You nod and stand up from Gojo-sensei’s lap, Yuji follows as the two of you walk to the door, Yuji waves to both of them with a sweet smile, and you turn your head back, saying goodbye as well, but only Gojo says it back.

There is a silence that fills the room once yourself and Yuji leave. Gojo is about to make some snarky comment when he gets sucker-punched in the face by Nanami’s question.

“So how long have you been fucking your student?” Nanami asks in a tone so sure it even makes Gojo doubt himself for a split second.

“What?” Gojo asks back, unable to process what just hit him.

“You heard me the first time.” Nanami states.

“Yeah and I'll also hear it if you told me you liked your job but that doesn’t make it true.” Gojo scoffs, running a hand through his hair as he realizes the absurdity of the question he's being faced with.

“You seriously have the nerve to be sarcastic when faced with a question like that?” Nanami's tone comes out a little more aggressively.

“Well you had the nerve to ask me that stupid question in the first place.” Gojo retorts, with a similar bite in his tone.

“Don’t take me for an idiot.” Nanami grits his teeth, removing his glasses to squint his eyes at the white haired man sitting in front of him.

“Hard not to when you’re accusing me of being a fucking pervert.” Gojo argues, clenching a fist on his thigh.

“Then do you care to explain to me the reason she acts so suggestively towards you?” Nanami asks, clearly trying to back his coworker into a corner.

“And what exactly is suggestive about the way she acts?” Gojo’s knuckles turn white from how hard he’s clenching.

“Leaning in to you, batting her eyelashes, licking her lips, the try-hard tone of voice she puts on only when you’re around-” Nanami starts to list off, before he’s interrupted by Gojo’s incredulous laughter.

“Yeah, just like every other young girl I speak to that tries to get my attention?” He retorts, shaking his head with a deep sigh. ‘ What the fuck is Nanami’s problem? ’ He thinks.

“Don’t flatter yourself too much.” Nanami rolls his eyes, fed up.

“It’s not flattery, it’s fact.” Gojo states blankly, having had enough of this conversation,

“She sat in your lap.” Nanami poses, certain he can’t deflect this argument.

“There was nowhere else to sit. If it was so ‘suggestive’ do you think she would have done it with others around?” Gojo defends, “Maybe you’re the perverted one here for seeing it that way.” He spits out, bringing a deep furrow to Nanami’s eyebrows.

“What the hell are you saying?!” Nanami growls, raising his voice.

“I’m saying, no girl is immune to the effects of my charm.” Gojo shrugs, as casual as ever, as if he’s not having one of the most absurd conversations in his life.

“Quit fucking around, Gojo.” Nanami sighs, straightening up in his chair.

“You see, Nanami, this is actually what it’s like when a girl has a crush on you. Not that I expect someone like you to know about that.” Gojo states, laughing in his coworkers face, but faltering for a moment. ‘Wait, Crush? Why would I say that?’ He thinks.

Nanami simply stands up, having heard enough of Gojo’s shit. This conversation was going nowhere, not when the man before him is deflecting like he’s born to do so.

“You’re full of shit, Gojo, and you know it.” Nanami states, walking towards the door without bidding a second look. “Yeah, well…you’re not even a fart!” Gojo shouts at his frame as it disappears past the door and into the hallway.

He sinks back on the sofa, sighing deeply as he tries to digest everything that happened to him today. Surely none of it was obvious, right? You aren’t doing anything wrong. You’re just a sweet girl who happens to be the object of his twisted desires. Maybe Nanami sees through that, in that case he just needs to up his masking game, something he’s more than used to already.

But it still isn’t an excuse for the man to just throw baseless accusations like that. It’s disrespectful to him, and also to you.

Anyone could tell those were bullshit claims, anyways. Though, it does cross his mind that everything you seem to be doing is exactly what he was used to from girls that wanted him in the past. The thought grows in a way he really doesn’t want it to. Those girls were always his age. It makes no sense that an innocent girl like you would intentionally act that way with a teacher. Right?

Well..Unless you do have a crush on him, he thinks..Then it hits him. The lollipop sharing. The staring. The physical contact. It all starts to click.

“Shit.” He mutters, throwing his head into the palm of his hands.

You have a crush on him.

[livlepretre]

So I’m not rushing you I promise this just popped into my head because I’m up late at night checking my emails making sure I haven’t missed any update ya know . I haven’t I’m all caught up ,and I legit started thinking about all of the other stories that I’ve bin reading in between yours and recently I’ll say within the last 1-2 years there’s bin more Klena fics posted that have actually peeked my interest very similar to your style of writing dark ,vivid,emotional,descriptive,mentally depressing , just pure captivating form and a lot of them have finished they weren’t that long just a couple chapters.

But then others were actually on a really good track pulled me in had a great build up and then authors note : will taking a small break because of writers block or exams or something and thennn that’s it no more updates and that unlocked a deep seeded fear that I didn’t even know I had because I started thinking like they might even come back to finish the stories it’s bin months some of the others from way before are done for sure bin years lol but then I thought WHAT IF I NEVER FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENDS AT THE END OF FAIRYTALE ENDING?

I’m not saying you won’t finish it, but what if you don’t .It sounds so selfish but omg I’ve spent like 10 years of my life waiting for this story to end just so I know what happens and what if I never find out and that scared the hell outta me again not trying to push you or anything but it popped into my head and is kind of a compliment if you really think about it lol

well, I really, really, really don't think you have to worry about that

you don't understand how much I have prioritized this fic to the exclusion of all of my other hobbies or how emotionally invested I am in finishing this

but-- the fact that I have so little time is why I keep reiterating that finishing FE is the only thing I can confidently promise about my fandom future. I would like to finish my posted WIPs, I would like to finish and post the fics I've posted teasers for on this blog, I would like to continue-- but I also don't want to over-extend myself, so I am keeping my focus narrowed down to just FE, and then we will see where we go from there. Who knows? I took a hiatus for a year after I finished ATF,BBTF and ended up coming back with FE and SWBS and tons of other stuff. Maybe I finish FE, take hiatus, and come back again. (and--despite my slow posting schedule-- I would not consider the past 2 years of slow FE updates to be hiatus-- I've been working too much on it from my end, doing the invisible behind the scenes work, to count it as that)

now, if I were to ever decide to quit FE-- which, I can't, you don't understand, you say it's been 10 years for you, but it's actually been nearly 8, whereas I started working on this 12 years ago and it's been over a third of my life now, wtf-- I would announce it clearly, and then I would make a post of how the ending would occur.

and if I weren't able to do that myself, there are those who know where to find the ending and would post it for me.

I'm not kidding when I say I consider this my magnus opus and I must finish it.