#not much changed from this chapter actually

[madamechrissy]

Baby You're a Star

Art in the banner by Kerravi on x!

Pairings- Pornstar Satoru x shy f!reader

Summary- You meet Satoru Gojo at a wild Hollywood party, insanely out of place, waiting for your friend to show up. The two of you hit it off, spending time together, and share a kiss, but you're a good girl, and you just don't do this, but he is the top pornstar there is, and the top .01 % on OnlyFans. Once you find out, you know there's probably no match, as Satoru doesn't date, and you don't sleep around, but after meeting, you keep in touch- and soon Satoru can't get hard without thinking of you, and you get over curious, and join a livestream of the boy you like. Just how will that go for you both!? WC this chap- 11.5k (longestt)

Warnings- WOW this chap has it all, heed the warnings - filming porn masturbation ( m) oral (m and f receiving) spit kink HIGH KEY, mentions of cum, multiple rounds, switching positions, size kink, swallowing (M and F) explicit sex, feral Gojo, squirting, mating press, tummy bulges, lots of fucking goddamn- Gojo is whipped mutual pining, obsessive Gojo. Angsty asf in places, lots of jealousy

A/N- Taglist closed- This was so smut filled I took MULTIPLE breaks aha, maybe my most smut filled one ever? don't read in public actually - please comment/rb if you enjoy <3

<<<Chapter Two - Masterlist- Playlist- Chapter Four>>> (coming soon)

Chapter Three

You can’t escape the desire you have, even in your dreams.

Waking up cumming was not just new, it was ridiculous, and you didn’t even know that happened until this morning. Waking up with your cunt throbbing around nothing, and gushing arousal, as your dream was filled with Satoru kissing you, fucking into you with that thick, huge cock, hitting spots deep inside that felt real even in your dreams.

That’s it, sweetheart, cum all around my cock, hmm? Lemme feel her- there you go, baby.

That had done too much to your sleeping brain apparently, because you couldn’t stop cumming either, crying out and whining when you’d touched your cunt and felt the slick coating everything. After shaking violently from it, you’d peeked and seen a good morning text from him, all while you had to go get cleaned up, trying to compose yourself before you texted back.

Jenna calls now, shaking you out of your reverie, and the two of you plan lunch the next day. “You’re having dinner with him?”

“Yeah, but as a… friend?”

“Oh baby, you’re too cute.” You sigh, leaning back as you stir up some dough for cookies you were baking later, the sunlight filtering in through the little kitchen window you have open wide. You peer out into the sky, thinking it’s not as pretty as Satoru’s eyes.

“I do really feel things, but Jenna I can’t not be near him, if it’s as a friend, then it’s as a friend.” Jenna sighs louder than you did. “Are we having a sighing contest?”

“I’ll win any loud moan contest, but your sighs are cuter.”

“Jenna!”

You both laugh then, and a beep sounds on your phones. “Ah, looks like he’s going to stream. Gonna go watch your friend?”

“You’re an instigator. Maybe.” She giggles again, as you finish preheating the oven, scooping the dough onto the parchment paper.

“Be careful, you’re a grown woman, and things change, but don’t forget yourself, okay?” You pause then, emotions catching in your throat at her words. “I’m not trying to be the ‘mom’ I swear.”

“I know, Jenna. I love you, see you soon?” You end the call after she says goodbye, popping the cookies in the oven and turning them on. You set up your laptop, deciding to do some work for the weekend on a project your friend hired you for, but the temptation of seeing Satoru keeps nagging at your mind.

The man certainly has a pretty cock, but you think it’s the way he looks at the camera that fucks you up, it’s probably why he’s so good at it, his job. And he clearly enjoyed it, even though you know he was having a little difficulty with the last shoot, perhaps he prefers solo lately? To think you had anything to do with that was foolish, so you wouldn’t allow the thought.

The timer beeps, you stand up and stretch, turning off the timer and oven then, grabbing a bright red oven mitt and pulling out the sheet pan, smelling delectable, the steam hot and rising, scent filling your nostrils. You loved to bake, especially when you were stressed, and you suppose you were, having feelings for a man currently stroking his cock for the camera was conflicting at best.

You keep trying to tell yourself that it’s not feelings, that you’re inexperienced and confused, but you know you’re lying to yourself. You eye that silver laptop again, remembering the last time, the image of him sucking his own cum off his fingers is burned deep, a core memory at this fucking point. You shake it off, then sigh, giving into temptation.

You’d just tip him a hundred again to be supportive, you tip Jenna all the time, it’s fine, it’s something a friend can do.

Right?

You log in to the onlyfans platform, the black and blue OF making you just a bit nervous, clicking on the stream then, taking several breaths as you click on it. Fully prepared to be soaking wet, the sight that greets you is not Satoru stroking his cock, it’s another woman, her thighs spread, while Satoru runs circles on her clit. She’s propped on his lap, her head against his bare collarbones, moaning.

Your heart shatters then, and it shouldn’t, no you’re so stupid!

You are Satoru’s friend, and it was your choice to check his stream, to tip and be supportive but ultimately you know what you potentially signed up for. You saw him with Jenna, and for whatever reason that had not bothered you- maybe because it was before he touched you, looked at you like that.

The girl in front of him has two of his fingers shoved deep as he has her feet propped up on his thighs while you blink away stupid tears that shouldn’t exist, there’s no anger but there’s so much jealousy you shock yourself. You’re a girl’s girl, you’re supportive, what is this!? You’d like to rip her right off his lap, and you hate yourself for it right now.

You shake it off, looking away as the cookies fill your home with the sweet scent of sugar and chocolate. It should be a cheery morning, but you can’t even focus on anything but the conflict in your heart. You stare back again, hearing Satoru’s soft, husky voice, watching all the comments in the chat while he grips one of her breasts in his big hand.

Her head falls forward, and the way you vividly imagine it being you instead has you heating up, in more ways than excitement, embarrassment - you’d never be that girl for him, you wish you could be that way. But Satoru and you together felt too special, especially to share, how could you fall when this was your idea!?

You can’t be upset.

You take a breath, shutting your eyes and looking away as his voice resonates through the laptop’s speakers, echoicing in the quiet. If you were crazy enough you’d say it sounded different than with you, that he let go more, that you were even wetter when he touched you, but you’re starting to think you’re delusional.

“So, we wanna hit this spot right here, for any men watching, you’re gonna curl up here, that spot feels good, doesn’t it honey?” Your jaw sets, swiping tears from under your glasses now.

“Ah, y-yes Gojo!” Her moan echoes too much, he pauses then, the squelching of her cunt stops, it’s all quiet as he just stares at the camera like he’s staring at you, his lips parted, eyes widening just a bit, but there’s no way.

You’ve lost it.

You tip him the hundred as you’d intended to, quickly shutting your laptop and damn near hyperventilating. What’s wrong with you!? His job is to fuck women, so you saw him touching one, what do you expect? The man had a gang bang scene just yesterday, and dinner with you tonight. You have to shove it all down then, you have to remember what he does.

It didn’t mean it wasn’t special though, for you.

Did he do things off camera with-

Stop it!

The phone rings a few minutes later and you just stare at it, lost in your own head, wishing you could compartmentalize it so much better, that you could separate the two. You were so stupid for engaging and knowing, but at the same time, to not have Satoru seems like something you can’t compute, even if it is just as a friend, even if you can’t be sexual.

Maybe you read it all wrong, that night.

Satoru calls again, shaking out his hand as his co star is now fucking herself quite expertly on a dildo, since Satoru can’t get hard for anything - it’s worse today than yesterday - he decided to turn it into a guided masturbation video. At least his fucking fingers still work, despite jerking off to you so much his cock is raw, remembering your lips surrounding it.

Even fingering her he’s picturing your pussy, fuck he wants to just bury his face in it again, he knows the two of you are ‘friends’ or whatever the fuck this was, but it’s exceedingly difficult when it’s affecting him like this. He keeps wondering if you all sleep together, will it make it worse or better? Was he all in his head, as if you would go for someone like him if he did date.

What was he thinking lately?

He saw your name in the stream and his stomach had dropped - and why, you’re just a friend, it was fine if you wanted to see a bit of a stream and tip, he knows it is to be supportive. You’re supportive and sweet, so sweet, god your taste and scent still haunt him, he’s been dying to see you tonight, in any capacity, but when he saw the name he felt awful.

He only wants to fuck you, touch you, but he has a career and commitments, to get her to agree to this instead of fucking was already difficult and he was slowly losing it as his cock kept refusing to work. Even if he could get it up, he didn’t like the idea of fucking someone else at all, after the debacle of a gang bang yesterday. But even touching someone was doing nothing for him.

Now he saw you leave so quickly, and decided to gently smack his co star’s ass, smiling as he bent her over, murmuring he needs a break. She eagerly took over the spotlight, the opportunity was a huge one for her anyway as a smaller star. Satoru keeps staring at your picture, sighing as he notices the little reflections in your glasses, touching the screen softly.

You saw him touching someone, did you care, did it bother you-

Why is he thinking like this!?

He calls again, and you answer, much to his relief, as his hands let go of the bathroom counter he’d gripped too tightly. “Hey Satoru, sorry I popped in, I thought it was um… you…”

“Jerking off?” He finishes the sentence, leaning back against his wall and shutting his eyes.

“Yeah, I didn’t know you did um… shoots at home. You should get back to it, why are you calling me, silly? Looks like um… you were, ah… doing… good.” You’re breaking out every voice, cursing yourself quietly, why can’t you just speak? You’re shoving it all down, trying not to cry - there’s no reason to!

“Ah, yeah I thought I’d try to teach people how to make women cum, they fail often you know.” He tries to make it light, as his stomach clenches, a sick feeling when he hears your forced laugh.

“That’s very true. Someone should give you a Nobel prize for this work.” He snorts then, as the laughter becomes a little more genuine. “No you’re amazing at that. Why not show them how?”

“You thought I was amazing, hmm?” His tone changes, cock throbbing when he just hears your sigh, picturing you vividly in his mind, while the sounds of his co-star echo, moans and squelching wetness that does nothing for him.

Didn’t he used to enjoy all of this?

“You know I thought that.” Your heart pounds, you have to remember, Satoru is amazing and just because you’re hurt, you can’t be mad or upset at him. He’s not yours in any way, even if you’re starting to wish he was. “Isn’t your co-star waiting?”

“She’s occupying herself fine. It’s not… sex…” Because I can’t get hard unless it’s you. “It’s just a tutorial.”

“Oh,” your relief shouldn’t exist, you shouldn’t care, but to hear that does make you slump over just a bit, before taking a breath. “Do you want to do dinner another day, it’s already four-”

“No, no!” Satoru panics then, since when does smooth pornstar Satoru freak the fuck out and act desperate? “I mean, no. I want to see you tonight. I have time to shower and get there.”

He wants to wash any of this girl off, frantically actually, he wants you all over him, even if it’s just him pleasing you more. But moreso, even if you just wanted to have dinner and that was it, he’d be happy, though the thought of fucking you with his fingers while you eat dessert is insanely tempting, making his tip drool precum quite annoyingly as he glares in the mirror.

“Okay good, I was looking forward to it.” Your whisper is soft and genuine, as he sees the red on his cheeks, the black pupils, just thinking of you shifts his entire face.

Fuck.

“I’ll start getting ready, I think it’s time you see I can get dressed up.” You tease softly, swiping stupid tears and trying to plaster a bright smile on your face as you stare in your mirror. Your eyes are puffy, the color drained from your face, lips trembling - just seeing that has affected your entire face, taking off your glasses so you don’t even have to look at yourself for a moment.

“I bet you’re gonna kill me, you look so pretty any time I see you,” his voice is hoarse, as he spills the vulnerable truth, and the two of you shut your eyes, leaning against your bathroom counters. “But I’m excited to see you dolled up.”

“Are you, Satoru?” You try to hide the insecurities haunting you, hearing his sexy, heavy sigh on the other line.

“Very excited. I’ll see you soon, sweets.”

The two of you hang up and you sigh, eyeing the clock now - you have about two hours to get ready, and you’re so nervous your palms are sweaty and numb. It may just be two ‘friends’ having dinner, but you want to shove that image back you just saw, and focus, and try to look beautiful tonight.

Satoru’s own hands are numb, as he curses, slamming a hand on his forehead, unable to think of anything but you, barely able to pull himself together. When he walks out, Suguru is there, nibbling in the kitchen, raising a brow at him. “You good, Satoru?”

“Fine, I… you wanna finish that for me?” He gestures to the room, while Suguru sips down water. “I think I have a kind of date or something.”

“A date!? Huh?” Satoru just looks away, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I don’t think it’s a date, it’s friends or something? Maybe... I don’t know. Is dinner a date if it's not with a costar?” Suguru rolls his violet eyes, sighing as he washes his hands now, patting them dry with a paper towel.

“You’re acting weird as fuck lately, that cute little good girl got you simping?” Satoru scoffs, rolling his blue eyes now.

“Suguru, just do me a solid.” Satoru pouts, earning Suguru’s scoff.

“Fine, fine, but you owe me one.” Suguru and Satoru enter the room, as Satoru eases the transition, the notes in the chat are going insane, he can’t help but exhale in relief, before pausing at the thought.

Was there some way to save his malfunctioning dick?

*****

Satoru whistles when he meets you at the restaurant that evening, running just a little late, you're sitting there nibbling on your thumb, peering at the menu when he arrives. Your eyes light up behind a different pair of glasses, these have cute red rims, matching the red dress you're wearing that's making him ache.

He hasn't seen you in something like this, not that you weren't always pretty, but when you stand up and he sees how it fits your body it almost takes him everything to hold back. Vividly picturing bending you right over that table and fucking you in front of the entire restaurant, gripping the red shimmery fabric that drapes across every line and curve of that body.

He can't form a word, notoriously known for never shutting up, but he can't think of anything to say, when you shyly look down, hands fidgeting in front of your lap, and he’s standing there sputtering. It’s awkward even, until the waitress comes up and smiles over at Satoru, gesturing to a seat, saying - ‘This must be the friend you were waiting for!’

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting, you look beautiful.” He says finally, pressing a kiss to your cheek, feeling it heat up against his lips. You shake your head with a sweet turn of your lips, kissing his cheek in turn.

“You’re fine, Satoru, I still haven’t learned LA time.” He chuckles at that just a bit, sitting across from you now, before deciding to sit next to you instead, shoulders brushing together.

“This feels more comfy? It feels all formal the other way.”

“Does it feel too… date like?” He falters then, because that was not it, but the doubt has crept in on your face, when the waitress asks you all for your order, and he has to blink back the confusion. “What do you suggest?”

“Want me to order for you?” You nod shyly, god the submissive nature of you makes him ache in way too many ways, knowing how perfect of a girl you’d be for him in every aspect. “We’ll have this,” he says, pointing to the menu now. “And bring two glasses of champagne please.”

“Are we celebrating?” You tease, handing the waitress the menu, Satoru chuckles a bit, shaking his head while you take in how handsome he looks, brushing your fingers against his suit jacket. “You look so good, Satoru.”

“Thank you, sweets.” He holds your hand then, fuck it feels too good, pressing it against the dark red suit jacket that truly only he could pull off, black button down shirt left open, showing enough of his chest to make anyone die over. Your eyes look at it now, a few of the chains he wears resting along the strong muscles, settling between his collarbones. “You’re making me look bad, wearing in that dress.”’

“No way!”

“Absolutely, you are. You’re so pretty, fuck…” He’s brushing back a tendril, as you eye him, that look that drives him insane, the look that’s ruined him since he met you. He tries to smirk, to act calm, teasing, “I look that good?”

“Yes, shit. Sorry.” He laughs softly, shaking his head when you pull your hand back gently.

“We match, great minds you know.”

“Indeed, we clearly coordinated telepathically!” He laughs then, and it's just like that first night, when you and him just hit it the fuck off. It’s comfortable, it’s fun - so fun - that people smile at the two of you, as you laugh like friends for years. It’s how it feels, like you’ve known him, a way you can’t explain.

But you wished it was just the friendliness, not the heat in your tummy when he wipes a droplet of clear, bubbly champagne from his plump lips, if every time his thigh brushed yours you didn’t melt. Someone comes up then, a really pretty girl, and you feel Satoru stiffen a bit, making you tense, sipping on the tart champagne and averting your eyes a bit.

“Gojo, it's been what, a year?!” He smiles with ease, standing and kissing her cheek, hugging her tightly.

“It has been, shit, how you been?” It’s all very Hollywood, their exchange, you feel you’ll never figure it out, the two years you’ve been here after relocating and you still couldn’t get being kissy on everyone.

It makes you think of him earlier, his fingers in that-

Stop that!

He’s saying your name you errantly realize, you plaster on a smile as she looks at you curiously, eyeing you up and down. “Co-star?”

“No, no, she’s my friend. She’s a good girl.” He winks down at you, and she giggles then, holding her hand out.

“It’s awesome to meet you!”

“You too. Are you um…”

“A former co-star, yeah. Satoru is the best in the industry.” Ah, so she fucked him, too. You want to be petty and scowl and you hate yourself for it more.

You never, ever are like this.

You never have been.

She’s touching his shoulder and making you sick, when your eyes catch a familiar face, a man standing with a group of other men, smiling over at you, he’s one of your co-workers that is always working. You wave at him while Satoru finishes his conversation, and he adjusts his tan jacket, touching the arm of one of the men, letting them go as he walks to you.

You tense just a bit, while the girl finally leaves, and Satoru’s sitting next to you once more, as his phone rings. He turns it off, jaw tensing when a blond man takes your hand and bends down at the waist, like some old school gentleman, pressing a kiss to the back of your delicate wrist, the pretty bracelet slides down your arm as he does it, and he watches your blush.

The fuck.

He was trying his best to get that girl to go on, so he could get back to talking to you, but now some random guy has your attention, and Satoru doesn’t like it, not one fucking bit. “Nanami, this is Satoru.”

“Nanami, huh?” He leans back, flipping off his phone again, you look at him curiously.

“Need to grab that?” You ask, and he shakes his head, swiping it off once more, ignoring his manager while this Nanami guy eyes you behind green glasses.

“You look stunning, is that alright to say?” You giggle again, Satoru glares at you, how dare you giggle at him!?

He told you that you looked beautiful. Did you giggle?

He wants to punch this smirking man in the face.

What’s wrong with him!?

“Thank you, Nanami, I guess you don’t see me too dressed up at work, huh? You always dress so well.”

“Oh stop, you’re flattering me. And this is your…” He trails off, looking at Gojo, who has to wipe the glare off his face for a moment.

Say it, Satoru.

More than a friend.

You look at him then, as if you’re waiting for him to say that, to say something, while Nanami’s lips quirk up just a bit, making Satoru want to smack him again. He takes a breath, smiling then instead of glaring, but his hand is on the small of your back. “We’ve become close friends, very quickly.”

“Oh? I’ve known her for a long time,” Nanami says, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away. You look at Satoru, whose phone starts ringing again, and he curses, rolling his blue eyes. “Need to take that?”

“It’s my manager, they have horrible timing. I’ll be right back.” He murmurs, you smile understandingly, while his manager trips on him about earlier.

He knows his dick doesn’t work, and now he knows he hates touching anyone, but he doesn’t know how to explain it to anyone when he has no fucking clue why this is happening. He’s obsessed with a sweet, shy little thing that is currently getting hit on by a dude buffer than him.

Maybe he’d be good for you.

Satoru is too petty to admit it though, glaring instead while his manager goes on and on. “Listen, I get it, you need content.”

“We need you with women, a lot of your viewers are men, they’re not gonna tune in to watch you solo. Find someone that works for you, I don’t care who at this point, but we’re just not gonna make profit if you keep turning down roles. Or, I heard, you shoved a girl off on Geto.”

“I didn’t… shove her off, I just…” Satoru frowns again, the blond man is sitting next to you in the other seat, your eyes are on Satoru however they turn away when he catches your gaze.

He just wants to fuck you right in front of that fucking man now. God, if you would be interested in starring in something, you’d make bank, it’s not just his obsession, your pussy is the prettiest one he’s seen. Your tits, your body, they’re all so sexy, and your pretty face with those glasses? You’d kill any sexy nerd shoot there was.

“Satoru!”

Shit.

He can’t get the vision of you in some slutty ass librarian outfit from running through his head.

“Yeah, I got it. I’ll try to get something going, I mean I was gonna do a solo tonight anyway.”

“That’s fine, but remember you’re a lot more than just Onlyfans. You’re a star, Satoru, that comes with a certain level of appearances. So whatever is going on, you gotta get it together, or we’re both not making shit.” He sighs, leaning back against the wall now, eyes going back to you, giggling at something he’s said.

He’s too close to you.

Why does he mind so much?

“I’ll get a shoot done.” The words feel horrible, the thought of fucking anyone else just seems like an impossibility, and he doesn’t know how to compute it in his mind.

What did you do?

“Alright, I expect some video with a woman - not with Suguru. Though…”

“I’m not fucking Suguru.” He chuckles as people look at him a bit, running a hand through his white locks. “He is pretty but not my type.”

“He’s gonna be your type if you turn down every other actress.”

“Ugh.”

“Mmhmm, talk to you later.” He hangs up, frowning at his phone, trying to gather himself before he does something so stupid, jealousy filling him and for what?

You’re talking. You’re not his. He had his fingers buried in a girl this morning, why does he care if you did anything? He knows you’re not that girl, though, but you choose to be with him. It makes him feel far, far more special than he’d admit, the fact that you want him, that you trust him. Was he mistaking the look in your eyes, was it just desire there?

“If you are single, would you mind a date sometime? I haven’t had so much fun talking in a long time.” Nanami says softly, making you look down shyly, lashes casting shadows on your cheeks from the soft lights hanging above you in the dimly lit, pretty restaurant. “Am I too bold?”

“No, no. I just haven’t been on a date in forever.” Satoru feels like he’s been punched in the chest as he hears, nearing the table and acting like he didn’t wanna yank you to him and kiss you then and there.

But he chose to tell him you’re friends, that’s what you were, a friend he wants to fuck all night in every position imaginable. Then lick his own cum out of your cunt, abused from his cock, and fuck you all morning. God he can’t stop thinking about them all, have you dragged on his face, his hands on your waist, let you ride his mouth till he couldn’t breathe.

Real fucking friendly.

Satoru’s hands grip and release while he hears your answer, “I will think about it, Mr. Nanami, it may be fun.”

That’s almost a yes.

Fuck.

“Think about what?” He asks with a smile, leaned back in the booth, a hand brushing your bare thigh under the table, where your dress had slid up from you sitting, he feels it tense while he drags his fingertips across it, eyeing you then.

Was Satoru trying to confuse you more? You look at him again, some toxic part of you that you don’t recognize wants him to claim you, what the fuck was that!? You have never been that way, you’ve never been a lot of things until you met this blue-eyed man, however, and even with a handsome Nanami flirting, you can’t get Satoru’s moans out of your mind.

Snap out of it!

“A date with your lovely friend. You two are just friends?” He looks between the two of you now, and Satoru opens his mouth, but what can he say?

It’s what you ‘are’.

Would he be worthy of dating you if he wanted to, when his job was fucking other women? You didn’t deserve that, you deserved to be the only one, fuck you literally had become his one singular, consuming thought. He smiles good naturedly, eyeing you now, watching you bite your lower lip, teeth digging into the plush of it, while your thighs tremble just a bit.

“We just met at a party a few weeks ago, but we are really close. Quickly.” He murmurs.

“Can’t see you partying.” Nanami’s hand comes to touch your other thigh, and for a girl who hasn’t had any in forever, the sensation of two big hands on your thighs is addling your mind. “No offense, darling you seem a little straight laced…” his words are trailed off with his hand squeezing gently.

Satoru scowls at him.

Is he touching you!?

Do you like it?

“I don’t party, it’s true.” You smile now, a hand over his, thumbs brushing his knuckles, while Satoru’s squeezing so hard you wince before he realizes it, letting go of his grip, but the hand staying on your knee. “I think we could go on a date sometime, as long as it doesn’t make work weird.”

“Not at all, all right I’ll leave you two to hang out then,” he stands, holding out a hand for Satoru, he squeezes the shit out of Nanami’s hand with a forced smile, only for Nanami to squeeze tighter. And fuck he’s strong. Then, he takes your hand, murmuring a - “I’ll see you at work, then,” and kissing the back of your hand. “Darling.”

Darling.

Satoru will show him darling.

You giggle, only pissing him off more, nodding shyly, fuck you’re cute even when you’ve made him furious. He’s shared women so many times he can’t count, even girls he got closer to, regular girls that you could almost say he ‘dated’ he’d still regularly bang out with his friends. He’s not possessive in general, he’s open minded and a free spirit.

Or he was!?

“Sounds good, Mr. Nanami.” He hates how you say his name, when the man in the khaki suit and dumbass cheetah tie leaves, finally. “He’s so sweet.”

“Yeah, so sweet.” You look at him then, narrowing your eyes curiously.

“You don’t like him?”

“I don’t know him. Seems boring, pretentious.” You blink in confusion, eyeing the retreating figure walking out, he even waves at you, which you return.

“He doesn’t seem like either to me. Satoru, you said we are just friends, are you worried that we won’t… do all that we do if I date someone?” Your words drop to a quiet murmur, and he sighs.

“Yes I would be very upset if I didn’t get to taste you again, why wouldn’t I be? It’d be a fuckin’ tragedy, sweetheart.” His words are too husky, when he leans against you, turning just so, his fingers slipping up your inner thigh, a side of sweet, nice Satoru you hadn’t seen yet, you almost think he looks…

He can’t be jealous.

Right?

You're delusional.

“I don’t just sleep around, so if we went on a date I wouldn’t do that. But, if I hit it off, and got serious, I wouldn’t continue our… lessons. I can only be with one person at one time.” He tenses then, is he going to lose you before he even gets you? “I don’t care if you do the same, I know it’s your job, but I couldn’t.”

“I’m not fucking anyone right now. My manager is bitching at me about it.” You tilt your head curiously, the chandelier earrings dancing in glittering prisms along your neck as you study him. “I’m having issues on set.”

“Is everything okay?” You ask, concern in your voice now, as he shakes his head. “Satoru, what's wrong?”

“I’m not in a good headspace it seems, the gang bang I failed, and I pushed the girl this morning on Suguru. So if I don’t give my manager something, they’re gonna be pissed. And no money for us if I can’t show up.”

“What’s wrong though, you seemed fine with Jenna in what I watched? Is this a new problem?” God you’re clueless to your effects, aren’t you? You touch his thigh too, instantly making his cock hard, looking down and getting flustered, he feels your heat, just making him harder. “You seem to work fine to me. Are the cameras getting too stressful?”

“I don’t know, but it really is a problem. Do you think… you could help your very handsome, amazing friend out?” You look up at him, curious.

“Help how?”

“Your good video skills, film a hot jerk off stream, good angles? Maybe that will get enough money he’ll chill some until I get over this.” You look away, the images of Satoru stroking his cock are burned in your brain. “Too much?”

“No, no. I can help, I feel I am taking up your time-”

“You’re not.” He cups your face then, turning it to him. “You’re never taking up my time, I enjoy being here. Okay?” You exhale, fuck had you been worried about that!?

How could you not know how badly he craves your presence?

“I feel bad that you’re going through this, is it the lesson?”

“The lesson did bring your taste into my mouth, and maybe no one tastes as sweet, it’s true,” his thumb brushes across your jaw line, smiling at how embarrassed you get then. “I think your taste would help me out.”

“Then, I’ll film you, but I can’t guarantee the quality.”

“It’ll be impeccable.” He raises two fingers, making your mind go to places it shouldn’t, you know another ‘lesson’ or session, or any time at all with Satoru was dangerous.

You’re teetering on the edge of feelings constantly, but you can do this, right, separate the two? He seems so good at it, at being your friend and then doing more, and you almost failed completely. You almost couldn’t say yes to Nanami because you are currently so delusional you think this star is so interested in you for more.

You have to accept him for who he is, no matter what, this was your choice to join his life at all. You take a breath now, trying to flip that switch off, the one that can’t stop thinking how much you’d love to kiss him, every minute of every day. The side that’s upset his fingers were inside someone, you have to throw her aside, and enjoy what’s here while it’s here.

He makes you question so much constantly, like every minute spent under that cerulean gaze brings out a side of you that you never knew of, some inner sexual side that only he can ignite. It’s so beautiful and special, his breath against your lips, you want to press them to yours, but so unsure, was he not about to be affectionate in public with you?

Was this just left for home?

He changes your thoughts when he kisses your forehead, far too sweet, then your cheeks, hot to the touch, down to your nose, making you giggle, relax. “You never ever waste any time.”

“I needed that.” You exhale, kissing his lips quickly as he smiles against your lips, and you pull back quickly. “I’d love to help you out.”

“I’ll make it worth your while, pretty.” His thumb brushes the slick on your upper thigh, right by your panties, watching your lashes flutter shut, as you take a shaky breath. “Come back to my place?”

“For the night or…”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure-”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Satoru’s paying the bill, signing a signature and leaving a hefty tip, then, holding out a hand for you.

“Did you drive here?” You shake your head, and he smiles, snatching up his phone now. “Perfect, I’ll have my driver take us over.”

*****

The second time coming to Satoru’s home was a little different, you were more comfortable, slipping off your heels now, he bends down to help you again, kissing your knees as he does, hands slipping up your thighs. Your hand brushes a lock of his white hair back, the unreal way you feel this comfortable, this drawn to him, makes your heart ache.

You’re so scared you’ll get hurt more, but you can’t stop yourself from being near him, from him looking at you like you’re the only fucking girl there is, are you so delusional?

Just enjoy it.

You close your eyes, sighing as he stands, kissing your lips again, easing your hand bag off your shoulder, brushing his thumbs across the mark it’s left on your shoulder. “Want another drink?”

“Yes please, if I’m going to be a porn director.” He laughs softly, shaking his head and taking off his suit jacket, laying it across the back of a chair when he pulls out the same bottle you’d sipped last time.

“You liked this one, hmm?” You nod, surprised he’d remember, taking the sweet liquid in the crystal glass, fingers brushing now. “Don’t get drunk though, I can’t have a shaky ass camera.”

“So demanding already, you really gonna make it worth my while you say?” You’re trying to tease back, like you can breathe or function in his presence, he just sighs, brushing back your hair behind your ear.

“That and more, sweetheart. We have hardly started doing things together, there is so much I can think of,” his hands slip lower, down the side of your neck, watching the goosebumps raise as he does, sighing at how perfect you look in his kitchen. “So many positions.”

“How many are there!?” He laughs now, at your embarrassed little look, pressing a boop to your nose.

“You’re endlessly adorable. Corruptible.”

“Oh!” He’s taking his own glass now, guiding you by your hand.

“Suguru’s out for the night, so we won’t get interrupted.” He’s leading you to his room, yanking off that black top, pausing as he sets up the ring light and grabs the camera, handing it to you, fingers brushing against each other. “You ready?”

“Ready,” your squeak of an answer makes him pause, taking your free hand, putting it on his bare chest as your heart hammers, trailing the hand lower to his belt and swallowing. “Need help?”

“Yes, I do.”

He needs you.

He’s desperate for you, fuck.

You’ve helped him undress, on your knees on the soft, plush carpet, when you start the stream, and he starts stroking that long, thick length right in front of you, he keeps looking at you, even when you gesture to the camera. He’s moaning, spitting on his tip, making it slicker for his big hand which still can’t come close to covering it, twisting and moving it all for you.

For his fans.

It’s hard to remember them when your cunt throbs, when you’re so overheated you can hardly stand it, and Satoru’s talking, low and hoarse. “Gonna cum so much, fuck…”

When he’s cumming you damn near do just looking, thighs pressing together for that friction, mouth fucking dry when your shaky legs nearly give out, while you come from a lower angle, reading the comments of his spurting cum, shooting up against his silvery happy trail, sticking all over, making you ache to drink it up.

“Fuck, I’ve made a mess, need someone to clean me all up.” Satoru whispers, while you barely are able to hold up the camera any longer, the livestream is avid with questions, namely - who is filming Satoru Gojo? And offers from many viewers to lick every bit of him up.

Satoru should stare at the camera, but he’s looking up into your eyes instead, stroking his cum soaked length slowly, just pumping more cum out of his tip, so much it’s ridiculous, dripped down to his balls and inner thighs. You swallow nervously, tummy clenched with desire, knowing you needed to stay quiet for the stream of curious viewers.

Satoru murmurs cut then, and  you do just that, shutting off the feed, and setting down the phone with a shaky hand, clearing your throat. “They loved it I think.”

“C’mere.” He crooks two fingers, and you eagerly obey, walking up to him now, tempting him to no end with the way your eyes drink him in. “On your knees, sweetheart.”

You obey again, eagerly in fact, looking up at him under lowered lashes as his clean hand slips up the side of your pretty neck, then around to the nape of it, entangling in your locks. Your soft whine and shift of your hips are all he needs to know you’re enjoying it, your hands obediently on your thighs, as if waiting for his every order, so sexy he feels his cock twitch back to life.

“Do you want to clean me up?” He asks softly, but the command in his tone is there, you nod and he exhales, tugging you towards him then. “Then do a really good job, sweets. Lick every bit clean like a good girl, and I’ll reward you.”

“I’ll do a good job.” Your whisper wrecks him, as he guides your head down, and you suck him, still hard, into your hot, eager mouth. Your soft whine vibrates around him, his head falling back as your mouth moves.

He can’t help but think of earlier.

A date, you were gonna go on a date, and he hates the idea, no, he fucking detests the idea in fact, the rage alone making him fuck your throat deeper, harder, feeling you gag and choke on him instead of anyone else. He shouldn’t feel possessive over his friend, a friend who’s sucking his cum, who’s swallowing him up, all he can think is his, his, his.

But you weren’t his.

How could you ever be?

Satoru’s never felt anything better than your throat, except he’s a million percent sure your cunt is better, he knows it would suck him up so greedy. When tears fall from your pretty eyes, it’s hotter than any blow job he’s had on set, the eagerness and desperate need to please far surpasses experience, your glasses fogging up when you pull back to take a breath then.

Satoru looks at his slick, spit covered cock, to thin trails of saliva disintegrating between your lips as you pull back, swiping at your lower lip. “How did I do?”

“Perfect.” His whisper is genuine, the words feel too good, you know you should stop, that you already wish he was yours, but you’re too addicted to how those blue eyes make you feel like you’re the only girl there is.

Even if it’s an illusion, a trick of your brain, or a practiced look.

The feeling is too euphoric not to be corrupted by it.

“You did such a good job, look at it, not any cum left. You sucked it all down, so greedy huh?” His hand comes under your chin, squeezing your neck gently yet so possessive, he wants to say it - his - but he knows he can’t. But it’s too easy to teeter off the edge, when your breaths come faster, breasts pressed up in that dress, rising and falling with each one.

“Satoru… I can keep going.” Your soft voice nearly ends him, little hand stroking his cock again.

“I was thinking of something, but if you don’t want to, it's okay.” You blink a bit then, tilting your head, tendrils falling against your bare shoulders.

“What is it?”

“A scene with me, but not showing your face at all,” your gasp and pull back makes him sigh. “It’d be like me eating your pussy, we could have it zoomed so no one sees your face.”

The thought, along with Satoru's sweet cum down your throat makes your tummy clench, while he brings out more and more of you that you didn't know existed. Your hands tense on his thighs now, taking a shaky breath, fingers along the downy hair on his thighs. “I don’t… Satoru you have a million options for costars-”

“I want yours. It’s the prettiest I’ve ever fucking seen.”

“Satoru…”

“It is. Wanna argue about my expertise here?” You just get more flustered and flushed, looking down nervously, but he tilts your chin with his big hand, angling your gaze upward. “I’ll split all the pay, you get eaten out, and anonymously. I’d never tell anyone, I’d never risk your career or anything. But I do need to do one, and I hate the thought of it not…” Satoru trails off now, the words sinking in.

“You like eating me out that much?” Your whisper makes him chuckle then, nodding and swallowing nervously.

“That pussy is perfect. How about we film it, and you watch it, and if you don’t want to, I just keep it to jerk off to…” Shit, he said that.

He’s so desperate and pathetic.

But you flush again, surprising him with your nod.

“Shit really!?”

“We can film it for us to watch, and… I doubt I’ll be okay sharing it, but we can see if you- ah!” Satoru’s got you lifted so fast you barely can blink, unzipped and turned in moments, leaving you in the prettiest red lace lingerie that makes him groan, his fingertips trembling on your skin. “I said probably not, don’t get excited.”

“I’m excited to bury my face between your thighs again, sweetheart.” You cry out when he’s pressed you on the bed, spreading your thighs and groaning, fingers tugging at your panties.

“How can you make sure my face isn’t there?” You ask softly, he grabs the camera and the stand then, cock just swinging around, balls smacking his thighs, so used to being naked he doesn’t realize his effects. You can’t stop staring when he gets it at the perfect angle, clicking his tongue.

“Just like that,” he murmurs, viewfinder showing your pretty cunt up close, he’s almost furious to think anyone could see it like him, but his career is teetering on the brink of nothing, and if you truly were okay with it, he only sees it as a win.

You broke his dick and now he’s begging to just lick you, and split pay with you, he never thought he’d be so pathetic, but it’s no wonder, thumbing your pussy and spreading it, sighing. “Mnh!”

“So, to keep it anonymous if you decide to show this, don’t speak too personally, okay sweets?” You nod shyly, gasping as he shoves your thighs up. “Also, hold them up high, so all we’re getting is a view of your pussy.”

“Yes, sir.” You tease, but his cock starts leaking again, earning his moan.

“Don’t speak too much, to be safe, I don’t ever want you to feel like anyone would know it’s you. Speak when we’re done, though, you can absolutely moan.” You nod, so nervous, what are you doing!?

It’s as if Satoru Gojo brings something insane and wild out, because there is a thrill of your pussy on camera suddenly, and knowing he is about to worship you, potentially in front of people has your cunt drooling for him. He hits record then, angling his face so his tongue was in perfect view lapping up the arousal, exhaling now as he shoves your thighs up higher.

Perfect, you’re perfect.

“God, look at this pretty pussy,” he murmurs into the camera, parting your folds so all that syrupy arousal can pool out, he hears your sharp intake of breath, watches your red nails pressing into the plush of your thighs. His cock is already back hard, he has to stroke it and whines out as he laps you up, making you gasp.

He's slurping you then, head tilted just so the camera can see, smacking your clit gently, watching you jerk, pressing your thighs up higher and tilting the camera so it's higher, right over his head, looking at it and the reflection of your perfect cunt while he slips the tip of his tongue up. You're moaning at the sensations, twitching hips bringing your cunt more in his face.

Satoru can't stand it, how good you taste, he wondered if it was an illusion but no, you are the sweetest thing he's ever had. “You're so wet, god, take a look…” he's fingering you now, and you hear it while he watches it, glimmering from the soft ring light glowing on your perfect pussy. Making him so dumb he's just burying his face then, forgetting he's filming.

“Mnh!” You're trying not to call out his name, thighs still so high you can't see his face, to protect you from getting seen, until he adjusts it, spreading your thighs further, leaning up to look down at you under lidded eyes, chin coated in your slick. “Satoru…”

“You okay sweets?” His whisper touches you, his concern for you even during this, making sure you're okay. You nod and he exhales in relief, kissing you for a moment, knowing it's what you need, brushing your hair back, sighing as he looks down at you. “You're doing so good. Can you cum for me, baby?”

You nod again eagerly, and he’s dived back down, fingering you with two curled right in your cunt, hitting that spot that blinds you every time, his moans so filthy, guttural while he watches, angling his wrist and hitting something then, you feel so much pressure you panic, gasping, writhing under him.

“Oh my - ngh! Fuck!” You’re struggling to keep your voice a whisper, palming your mouth while you shatter.

“That’s it, right there, cum for me, lemme drink it up. Let everyone see how much you love my fucking tongue.” Pornstar Satoru was ridiculous to handle, hitting you with his fingers and the tip of his tongue on your clit, when the pressure releases, and your orgasm hits so hard you can’t help but scream, twitching as he pulls back in surprise. “Fuck, you’re squirting f’me?”

You have no clue what he means, you don’t see it as it starts pouring all over, making a mess, wet spot under you even as Satoru grabs you by the fat of your ass, licking up as much as he can. You’re a twitching, soaked little mess, your hands gripping his hair now, screams echoing in the room while he eases off you just a bit now, ready to fuck your slick, messy cunt.

He trembles as he pulls back and does one more shot, pressing a sweet kiss to your pussy before shutting off the camera, and leaning up, kissing you, so desperate, while your slick thighs rub together, and you feel the mess. He pulls up and takes a breath, flipping you then, making you gasp, handing you the camera while he kisses the backs of your shoulders, hands on your ass, spreading it wide.

“Watch it, sweetheart,” he whispers, kissing across your shoulder blades, brushing your hair to one side while you barely have the strength to press play, and that’s when you see it. “Look how perfect you are.”

Your pussy right on camera, and him eyeing it like he’s worshipping it, like you’re his fucking altar and his mouth is that offering. Your cunt starts throbbing while he works you, kissing every inch of your body as you fall more and more into the abyss of sin, of lust, of desire- of Satoru Gojo.

“You love it, don’t you baby?” His words are hot against your ear, while you watch him on the screen licking your cunt, watch your thighs tremble, all while he’s behind you, sinking his two fingers so deep in your quivering hole again. You arch your back, moaning now, it feels so good you can’t stand it, so erotic watching this video you two took, while he’s fucking you with his thick fingers.

“I do, but it’s insane… ah! Satoru…” He sighs now, taking his fingers out, pressing them into your mouth for you to suck, which you quickly obey, eyes fluttering shut, the image of his tongue fucking you reflecting in the darkness.

“Keep it for us, or share? It’s all up to you. I’ll never pressure you either way,” he’s soft then, turning your chin as he lays heavy weight over you, and you eye the phone now, hand shaking just a bit, to close it out or to share, he takes your hand, steadying it. “It’s fine to be how you are, you’re perfect, okay?”

“It’s fine to be how you are, Satoru Gojo. A… question, though.” He sighs, leaning close, while he keeps holding your hand, hovering just so.

“Mmhmm?”

“Would I be your favorite co-star?” Your teasing question makes him laugh at the ridiculous nature.

You’re the only one he can even get hard for.

“You’re the prettiest, yummiest, sweetest co star I could have,” his words are just a little broken, as he almost says more. That he hopes your date sucks with that Nanami guy, that he’s planning to show up at your work tomorrow to glare at that man, that he’s become fucking obsessed, but instead - “How could you think you’re not?”

“And we’re… still friends…” You ache for him to say - no, it’s more - but he nods, against your neck, pressing kisses against it. “Even if we fuck?”

God.

He’s dying.

“You think I wouldn’t be your friend anymore? I’m not the guy to get what he wants and go. I promise.” You nod then, smiling just a bit, and tap the share button then, surprising both of you.

“Holy fuck, I did that…” Your whisper is met with Satoru’s kisses now, as your video plays for all to see, your moans on camera mixing with the ones induced from his play, one arm wrapping your body as his cock presses insistently against your ass, hot and heavy.

“Stop me now, because I can’t think of anything but fucking your pretty pussy raw right now,” his desperate words and dilated eyes just serve to ruin you, when you arch your ass up. “Fuck, you sure?”

“I want you inside me, please,” he eagerly leans back, gripping his cock and lifting your thigh, pressing into your tight ring of muscles, almost cumming from the fucking tip. “Ah!”

“You’re so tight, relax I don’t want to hurt you, please.” Satoru whispers it as he grips your chin.

You nod, as he is slipping a little deeper from the back, the stretch burning so deliciously, you’re convulsing while the viewers are going wild over Satoru’s devoted pussy eating skills with his mysterious, faceless co-star. His silk hair brushes your cheek as he exhales heavy in your ear, whispering your name.

You eye the video, the comments, vision blurry, while he sinks his cock deeper, and he moans as he reads the comments to you, filling your cunt so full of his cock, inch by inch - and there are so many, each thrust deeper while you cling to his wrists, his arms wrapping you. He keeps reading them, even as he shoves in all the way, making you jerk and gasp.

“Perfect pussy, look at Satoru go, god she’s so wet for him, she’s cumming so much - is she squirting? Look at that, you’re a regular star, huh? F-fuck…”

“Mnh!” Your eyes roll back in your fucking skull now, lost in him, lost completely. So deeply unraveled under him you can’t remember what this is, that it’s a friend, that it was a scene, that you’re now the girl who did that, anonymous but to know it’s you on that screen with Satoru devouring you does something, fuck it does too much.

He’s murmuring more comments, and his huge cock is stretching your slick, tight heat beyond its means. “That’s it, you love it, huh? They all want to be in your place, or they want to lick you instead, but it’s me, isn’t it baby?” He shouldn’t be possessive, he tries to tell himself it over and over, but how can he not be, when he’s shoved in so deep, he feels the bulge of your tummy, groaning. “Feel me, sweetheart?”

You can’t speak, just nodding desperately, while the feed goes insane, watching your cunt squirt on Satoru’s face while he’s buried inside you, filling you to the hilt, stretching you out so good you forget to breathe. “Toru!”

He pauses at the nickname, your slurred words and pulsing cunt ending him, he could almost cum then and there and he has amazing stamina, but he has to hold back, wrapping a hand around your throat and leaning up on an elbow while you gush down his cock. Satoru kisses up your neck hungrily, eyeing your pussy on the video and then your face, your eyes almost black with pleasure.

“Only I can hit that spot, hmm?” His tip drags along your spongy spot now, and you’re twitching, nodding, so consumed as he surrounds you, breath against your neck, moans in your ear, hand squeezing your throat just so under your chin. His cock twitches as he shoves deeper, impossibly deeper, while you helplessly grip the blankets beneath you. “Answer me, like a good girl.”

“Y-yes.” Your whisper drives him insane, feral, the way your walls quiver around his cock is exquisite, that grip unreal, but more than anything it feels perfect.

“Made for this cock, aren’t you pretty?” The words fall out before he can stop them, and your eyes rolling back, drool spilling out of your mouth while your cunt is pulsing is his answer. “Perfect, fuck…”

“Mnh!” You can’t take it, his words urging you when he shoves his cock so deep, the tip bruising your cervix, making you scream as his guttural moan fills the room, his hand squeezing just enough pressure to make your orgasm blinding, white hot.

“Cumming all over me, so good, listening f’me, hmm?” You just nod weakly, gasping when he flips you to your back, lifting your thighs and shoving them wide, slapping the tip on your slick cunt and groaning. “Wanna watch me fill you up?”

You nervously nod, swallowing now, and he sees it, you’re overwhelmed, he leans down, kissing you, and you’re desperately clinging to his back, eagerly kissing him despite being damn near slack jawed. You exhale nervously, eyeing him is even more intimate, impossibly more, his plush lips still tasting like your honeyed arousal from earlier.

“If it’s too much, tell me, I want you comfortable.” It’s hard for him to speak, but he does, making sure to reassure you, kissing your forehead before he leans back.

“It’s intense, Satoru but… I want it.” He moans at that, sliding his cock back inside, sucking in a breath when you’re gripping him fucking tighter this time, slipping in slowly, inch by inch. “Ah! Satoru, so d-deep!”

“I am, huh? I can get deeper, baby.” You cry out when he shoves his cock in deep with a sharp thrust, and then pauses, eyeing that bulge in your stomach. “Look.”

“Look at… oh.” You’re heating up at the image, and he’s all about angles, he makes sure your eyes catch every bit of his slow thrusts, filling your tummy full of his enormous cock, too much to take, but your cunt is willing and eager, struggling to take his size.

“Fucking you so deep, see it? Your body is so small compared to my cock, pussy stretched too much, f-fuck… god look at you…” He’s losing it, he was trying to talk sexy to you, which comes naturally, but now he’s just obsessed with the image, thin white brows lowering over his eyes, while he slams inside you, your thighs trembling as they wrap his slutty waist. “Oh my god…”

“Satoru… ah!” He’s done, he’s fucking lost in you, in your eyes when he shoves your thighs up, gripping your face with his huge hands while he’s got you bent in half, slamming so hard you scream. “Too much!”

“I need all of you, fuck… can you take more?” His eyes are so bright blue they burn to look at, but you can’t stop yourself, nodding and cupping his face in return.

“Kiss me please.” He moans at that, slamming his lips down when he rocks his hips, cock filling you so deeply you scream into his mouth, hands slipping to his hair while he’s got his heavy weight over you.

“I can’t control it anymore, baby, if it’s too much just fucking hit me at this point,” he’s nonsensical, leaning up now, hands on the back of your thighs in a mating press, fucking you hard now, powerful strokes that take you the fuck out, cumming in moments with a few strokes, making him whimper.

That’s a sound you know he’s never made.

You may be delusional, but you’re sure you’ve only heard him whimper for you, you’ve never seen that look in his eyes on any video or stream, not when he’s staring right into your fucking soul and slamming his cock deep over and over. You’re barely able to cling to the earth, so much pleasure rushing through your body, you feel every vein and ridge of that huge cock as it fucks into you.

“Perfect, pussy is perfect, fucking knew it but god. God… fucking feel her,” he slams into you again, head falling back, giving you a view of his throat before he eyes you once more, shaking his head and slamming his cock harder. “Can she take it?”

You just nod, you’d take anything, the way it feels to be ruined by Satoru Gojo is far beyond his balls slapping your ass, his cock stretching your cunt, his hands bruising your fucking thighs, no it was more. You want to be filled by him, folded under him, you want every bit of it, losing yourself in him, in his bright blue eyes, in his filthy fucking words, in his cock slamming your cervix.

You were ruined, and you knew it.

You feel too much, far too much, when he’s leaned back, holding your thighs high and watching his cock pull out and enter, slowing and rubbing your abused clit. “F-fuck, cum one more time, I’m close… your cunt is so fucking perfect, shit… c’mon, like a good girl, there you go baby…”

It’s like that goddamn dream.

Word for word.

You cum harder than you have, when he shoves into the hilt, stuffing your slutty little hole, blinded and dizzy, hardly able to breathe, while he watches you shatter under him, so fucking beautiful he can’t take it. Your brows drawn together, that sweat making your skin glisten, your mouth open in the sluttiest O, he can hardly stand what the image does to him.

He knows it then, he’s fucking beyond destroyed, and terrified at that fact, at the power you’re oblivious to over him. He almost busts inside you, something he has never done - he doesn’t even go without condoms - the thoughts of filling your cunt full are far, far too tempting. He stops himself, cursing and holding his slick cock at the base while you’re spasming around him, back arching.

“Where do you want all this cum, sweetheart?” He manages to ask, you’re so fucked out you’re dizzy, blinking Satoru’s white hair and pretty face into view as he pulses inside you, just thickening and making you whimper.

“W-what… where… you want, I… mnh!” You’re still cumming, aftershocks rocking you, making your skin so sensitive when he eases your sore thighs down, parting them and pulling out finally, stroking himself as you catch your breath, watching him spurt thick white ropes all over your cunt. “Oh! Oh…”

“Fuck, fuck… god… oh my…” He’s moaning as he’s desperately jerking his slick cock, so much cum it seems impossible, since he just busted so much, and you watch him, enthralled as the hot sticky sperm is coating your cunt. “God, look at it, fucking look at us baby.”

He’s too much, he’s too much.

You thought him eating you out fucked you up mentally, what is he, his insane ass eyes bright as he trembles, strong muscles bunching and tensing, a work of fucking art pouring his cum on you. You’re stuck, at a loss for words, mouth opening and closing, brain not even functional as you look up at this man, knowing this isn’t just sex, it fucking couldn’t be.

It can’t be like this with someone.

You almost spill every feeling then and there, lost in him, in his desperation when he rests his head on yours, moaning against your lips, tip brushing your engorged clit and making you whine out. “God, your pussy is too perfect, it’s… you’re too perfect, feel too good, look too good…”

“Satoru, are you okay?” You whisper softly, he’s slurring his words, almost hard to understand in their hushed whispers in between his pants.

He can’t even answer, pulling back and looking at your pretty cunt, all abused from his cock and puffy, covered in his white ropes. “Can I have a picture? Please, just for me.”

“Y-you want one?” He laughs softly, breathless, nodding, and you heat up at it, looking down shyly. 

“Only you can be adorable with your pussy beat up and coated in cum, huh?”

“Oh god!” He can’t take it, how cute you are, the affection eating at him, as he takes a deep breath, leaning back. “Just one.”

“Fuck…” He takes the phone, eyeing the amount of comments and tips while your breasts heave, trying to catch your breath, sticky cum dripping across your folds when you shift your hips.

“What is it?” You ask softly, he shows you the number, and your eyes nearly bulge out. “Holy fuck!?”

“This is good even for me, shit. Pussy is made for porn.” You’re blushing harder, biting your lower lip when he angles the camera, taking several photos and exhaling at how pretty it looks. “God, look at you.”

“Are you talking to me or my pussy?” He grins then, so boyish and charming it’s as if he wasn’t just fucking you into a mating press and filming your cunt. “Also I said one!”

“Sorry. I’ll make it up.” He’s kissing your thighs then, lapping some of his own cum off your slit, you gasp at the sensation, his tongue on your sore, overstimulated pussy now. Your hands entangle in his hair as he groans. “Fucking taste us.”

“Satoru you’re in-insane and- mnh! Fuck!” You’re shaking when he laps more off of you, desperately lapping at every inch of your cunt now. “Satoru!”

“Gotta clean my pretty costar up, she’s only my costar you know, only one I’ve ever-” He pauses, stopping himself, when you eye him, breasts still gently moving up and down as you eye him.

“Only one you’ve… ngh! Satoru!”

“Taste us.” He’s lapped more of his cum and yours, murmuring for you to open, which you eagerly do, letting him spit his cum and yours in your throat. “Swallow, there you go, see it’s perfect, huh?”

You’re lost then, in the filthy string of words, when he’s back down cleaning you up with a tongue that’s lethal in its precision, rocking his cock on the bed, hard for the third time with you as he moans desperately against you. He’s latched onto your clit, sucking, while you can’t stop cumming, pushed past overstimulation, but not once do you tell him to stop.

You want it.

You need it.

In tears from how much you’ve cum, desperate for more, swapping his cum and yours mixing, against your tongues as he talks you through it, as you lose yourself, Jenna told you not to, she told you not to forget. You are trying to keep it separated, but how the fuck can you?

It felt worth losing yourself, for him, under him, him inside you - around you - taking over everything, while he’s back inside you, his lips murmuring desperate, dirty words into your sweet mouth. When you’re so fucked out you actually pass out blissfully in his arms, you can’t even remember the girl you were a few weeks ago, waking up just to be filled by him again from behind.

Being in his arms, you hope it’ll counteract the pain when he moves on, when he’s kissing you while fucking you from the back, sweet little nothings against your lips filling the room along with the squelching of his cock filling your cunt again. Every inch of your body kissed by him, licked by him, head to your fucking toes, shifting you to some other dimension as you drink each other in, exhausted and desperate.

You’ll think about that pain later, for now it’s all pleasure, aside from the ache in your heart for more, endlessly more.

The love on this story is so sweet, it's FAR from over. Please be patient as these are long chaps and I have other projects, if you're not on the tags you can subscribe to me on ao3 or turn on notifs <3 Can't wait to hear your thoughts

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[hannie-dul-set]

fire and brimstone (and you’re a moth made of gasoline) — THREE.

SYNOPSIS. having fought tooth and nail out of high school, university, and law school, only to end up working for a law firm that basically serves as a clean up dog after the biggest organized crime group in the district, you thought you couldn’t get any lower than this. 

the bar is in hell, and yet you’ve managed to limbo six feet beneath that. alternatively— na jaemin is the personification of hell, and your very existence just makes him even worse than he already is. 

PAIRING. na jaemin x female! reader. GENRE. gang! au, lawyer! au, office! au, comedy, drama, romance, very light angst, this is a sitcom, hate to love(?), a somewhat questionable power dynamic, asshole! jaemin (my beloved…my kryptonite…) but he’s also an idiot, jaemin has an eye contact thing, inspired by the manhwas “weak hero” and “study group.” WARNINGS. an abundance of criminal activity (including but not limited to organized crime, fraud, blackmail, DUIs, unethical and illegal occupational practices, etc.), blood and violence, suggestive themes, eventual non explicit sex, jaemin with a tattoo, legal inaccuracies because i am not familiar with south korean laws, so i’m just using my own country’s as reference. also because this is just a stupid thirst fic. who gives a damn. WORD COUNT. 5.8k.

NOTE. there was supposed to be more to this chapter, but it’d end up being way too long so i reserved it for the next one. anyway, hope you enjoy your first week at nalkeutta. feedback and comments much appreciated. happy reading! NEXT CHAPTER TO BE PUBLISHED.

AFTER ONE ANGRY PHONE CALL, YOU FIND OUT MORE FROM MARK THE INTERNAL AGREEMENT BETWEEN JSS NALKEUTTA. Mark understands the precarious spot JSS is in, but can’t risk losing his major legal recourse whenever things get icky within his gang dealings. JSS recognizes the significant benefits it had been receiving by partnering with Nalkeutta, but this continued arrangement would be inimical in the long run.

So they came up with a very simple compromise. Nalkeutta will stop hiring lawyers from JSS if the firm simply hands over one of their lawyers to them, effectively cutting public ties between the two parties. However, Mark Lee will continue supporting JSS as a private investor, all while retaining the protection fee benefits that the firm has been enjoying thus far.

It’s a win-win situation for all. All except you.

You’re the only loser in this situation. These fuckers are tossing and trading you around like some sort of commodity.

“Are you happy that you’ve finally managed to poach me after all this time?”

Knowing very well how pissed you are, Mark offered to pick you up from your apartment. Today’s scheduled to be your first official day at Nalkeutta. He’s smiling in the driver’s seat of his fucking Bugatti, and it just makes you feel even shittier as your ass lands on the plush cushions of his unreasonably expensive car. “Seatbelt,” he simply tells you. You grunt and fasten it on. “I hope you’d change your mind about your transfer once you get a tour of our building.”

Oh, joy. A building tour. The best description for you and Mark in the car right now, driving down the sepia streets of Yeongdeungpo district, would be that of a chipper mom taking her angsty teen daughter to a birthday party, chin on palm, staring out the window and all.

He eventually pulls up to a tall, multi-windowed building. Very tall, wedged between two shorter establishments. You look at the towering building from inside the car, noticing the sign greeting you right above the well-mainted glass doors— Daybreak Security Company, it says. You release a scoff. Wow, what a disguise. 

Come to think of it, in the months you’ve worked with Nalkeutta, you’ve never actually been here before. Mark’s always the one visiting JSS, never the other way around, so there is the barest amount of curiosity here. “You can head in first and wait in the lobby,” he tells you. “I need to park this thing in the basement.” Your hand stops at the door handle, squinting back at Mark’s instruction. He laughs. “The staff are informed about your arrival. Most of them are out, anyway, so you have nothing to worry about.”

Dubious, but you don’t protest. Mark Lee stays hazarding by the sidewalk with one car window open, watching you as you make your way to the entrance. You tentatively look behind, only to be met by Mark’s close-eyed smile, waving a hand to prompt you inside the building. You grimace and spin your heels. What a psycho, you think, and you finally hear him restarting the car to leave once you’re already halfway through Nalkeutta’s doors.

Jeez. He and Doyoung are on the opposite ends of the boss spectrum— both equally despicable— but at least your former boss wasn’t as creepy or an active threat to your life. Heck, he was even a source of entertainment sometimes. You don’t think you can get away with the same disrespectful shit you’ve been pulling on Doyoung with Mark. The only reason why the latter has been letting you talk back so much is because he never saw you as a threat. Now that you’re in his territory, you can’t be so complacent.

Anyhow, you do as instructed and are currently waiting in the lobby, collecting curious stares here and there from an incorrigible amount of men coming in and out, and your best attempt at an impatient resting bitch face so that none of these fuckers try to talk to you is starting to be overcome by queasiness. When the hell is he coming back? You notice a group of guys in their early twenties whisper while sneaking glances at you from the corner— one of them you’re pretty sure you’d had to bail out before for a DUI.

Besides that glimmer of abnormality, the rest of the lobby is eerily normal, harboring the appearance of any other company office with potted plants and clean sofas and a receptionist corner. Granted, they are trying to pose as a very legal, very unsuspicious security company, but knowing what you know about Nalkeutta, it just makes you sick to the bones.

Eventually, Mark Lee shows up, emerging from the ground floor elevator near the couch you’ve been waiting on. You don’t even try to hide your annoyance. “Sorry, Had to take a phone call,” he says, smiling and sounding not very sorry at all while nudging you out of your seat. “C’mon, attorney. Let’s start the tour.”

You release a dead and pained groan. Mark pats you on the back for your enthusiasm, leading the way through.

Nalkeutta has four floors in total. The first floor is basically the entirety of Nalkeuta’s front— Daybreak Security Company, all decked out with an abundance of private meeting rooms for clients, consultation offices, and a bunch of flat out empty rooms labelled as storage, and bathrooms on each wing. There’s both a staircase and an elevator leading further up the floors or down to the basement parking lot. Mark says he’ll show you to your reserved parking spot later, and that alone is already tipping the scales between him and Doyoung on who is the better bad boss.

The second floor is reserved for the general office— divided into Nalkeutta’s four divisions and a common break area in the center, cushions and sofas already occupied by less than familiar faces. You don’t look at any of them and instead feast your eyes “You’ll also be stationed on this floor,” he tells you, smiling. “But we’ll save that part of the tour for last.”

Wow. You can’t wait to have another crowded cubicle sandwiched between roughed up gangsters who probably don’t know how to work a printer. Now that you think about it, it’s kind of uncanny that this notorious gang operates in a sterilized office setting. Mark Lee never fails to send you to the depths of discomfort.

“Now, to the next floor.” Up another level in the elevator are two very large conference rooms, an entire fucking gym area, and rooms and rooms of organized files and storages, each tightly chained with locks, but that’s not the point.

They have a gym here. There’s a freaking fully-equipped gym in the middle of all this corporate bullshit. Of fucking course there is.

“I’ll give you the keys to the locked rooms later,” he informs with a hum. “And you’re free to use the amenities up here.”

There’s no point hiding the sheer disgust on your face. “You’re offering me up to a biohazard chamber.” This is a male dominated building. You may be stereotyping, but you can’t imagine how hygienic these roughed up gangsters are. Mark always smells like baby lotion and fabric softener, but hospitals hide the smell of blood and death with a noxious amount of industrial chemicals and disinfectant. Look at him laughing at your repugnance. Evil, evil man.

“Alright, now let’s head up to the fifth floor.”

Riding up the elevator, you notice quickly that the uppermost floor has a lot less going on than the three below it. The first and only place Mark lets you enter is his private office— instructing you to knock thrice in case you have an urgent matter to discuss with him without informing him beforehand. The rest of the rooms on the floor are confidential, beyond your scope of authority.

He drops a set of keys onto your open palm. “But once you’ve worked with us for around three or four years, I might change my mind.”

It’s concerning how employee access to restricted information depends on the insane boss’s fickleness of mind. “Sure.” You pocket the keys. “Is there anything else I need to know?”

“Yeah,” he smiles. “Let me show you to your office.”

Your palm, still inside your slacks pocket, tightens around the keys. Office? No. No fucking way. Haha. He probably means just a cubicle. Your heart starts racing. Mark starts walking, and you hear the thumping in your ears coincide with your clacking heels against the hollow hallway. 

Office. Office. Your hopes are starting to rise up as the elevator brings you a level down. It dings. Mark leads you back into the fourth floor, and when you pass by the sets of cubicles divided in the open office area without your boss turning his head or stopping or even batting an eye— you start losing your shit. Holy crap. He stops in front of a close-doored room, interiors concealed by large blinds from the inside. 

There’s an acrylic placard attached to the door. It says Chief Legal Officer.

“This room is yours.”

When he opens the door, the first thing that greets you is the glistening name plate sitting parallel before you atop the sleek mahogany desk. 

It has your name on it. Gold. Avenir font. Engraved. Heavy enough to knock a man unconscious with one blow. You’re about to cry. Nevermind all that you said earlier. Fuck Kim Doyoung. Mark Lee is the best boss you could ever ask for.

“Hope the interior is to your liking, but you can change it up however you like.” 

That prompts you to actually take a look around, and holy shit— it’s almost as big as Doyoung’s office. There’s a substantial amount of organizers and cabinets. At the center sits a set of low, mustard settees and a small black coffee table to match. The floor is carpeted and lint-free. There’s a fucking mini fridge near the artificial potted plant in the corner. Your head snaps towards Mark. He laughs at your, speechless, open-mouthed, teary-eyed reaction to his surprise. 

“I’m guessing you’re satisfied with the office,” he says, looking like he’s about to say more but is interrupted by a silent buzz from his phone. He pulls it open, and his brows furrow for a split second. “Hmm. I still have to introduce you to Nalkeutta’s Executives, but something came up.” Mark pockets back his phone, and his usually pleasant expression takes over once more. “For now, I’ll let you get yourself settled in your office. I’ll send someone to pick you up in a while.”

The moment Mark Lee leaves the premises, you let out a scream, walk forward, drop down to your knees, and attempt to hug the entire length of your desk. 

“Oh my god,” you breathe out, cheek pressed against the cold surface of the red mahogany wood. “Oh my god, I’m naming you Savannah and you’ll be my new best friend.”

Savannah does not reciprocate your affections, but who gives a damn. You’re not sure how long you’ve been embracing your desk and inhaling the new office smell, but apparently long enough for someone to knock and push open your door with a sing-songy “Hellooo—!” The greeting quickly gets cut off the moment your widened eyes meet that of the intruder’s. Your knees are kissing the carpeted ground. Your head is cocked in a very uncomfortable manner in order to face the direction of the door— but not as uncomfortable as how the guy who just entered looks at the moment.

“Whoa, uh,” he double-takes. “Mark asked me to pick you up. You must be our new lawyer…?” 

You continue meeting the man’s gaze. You force your stiff shoulders back and slowly pull yourself up, patting down your pencil skirt. “Yes,” you start, promptly introducing yourself. “And you are?”

Very smooth. His gaze flickers down, making its way back up to meet your eyes— of which a wide grin starts to unfurl on his face. Your brow twitches. “Lee Haechan. Head of the Yoosun Department. My office is right across from yours.” He called Mark by his first name. Meaning, he must be one of his higher-ups. You wonder if it’s a Nalkeutta requirement to be rude and pretty in order to be promoted. “Nice to meet you, attorney. Seems like you’ll have no problem fitting right in.”

Haechan extends an arm for a handshake as if he didn’t just hit you with the worst insult you’ve been slapped with his fucking week. You respond with one firm shake before wiping the same palm against your blazer. 

He notices. You intended for him to notice. You beam at him with a smile. He’s still grinning, but slightly taken aback. “You’re fun.”

Mark has yet to orient you with the general organizational structure of Nalkeutta, but at the very least, there’s one thing you’re certain of.

“And you’re wasting time. What did Mark send you for?”

You answer to no one but him. Meaning, you’ve no reason to fake pleasantries with this Haechan guy. He barged into your office without waiting for admission. This guy needs to be taught a lesson.

“Oh, right,” he huffs. “He called us for a sudden meeting to meet the new head of our legal department, or something. I didn’t even know we had a legal department! Anyway, follow me, let’s head to the conference room. By the way, do you have a boyfriend?” The elevator doors close before you. You grace him with a response the moment he presses the floor button.

“You saw me in carnal embrace with my desk earlier. The only thing fucking me is my impending workload.”

Haechan chokes out a snorting laugh. “Holy shit,” he wheezes. “Is that a call for help? If so, I’m a pretty helpful guy.” 

You look at him, smiling. “Unless you’re a seventy-inch mahogany wood in width, I’m not interested.”

“Damn. High standards. I give, I give.”

You roll your eyes, taking the liberty of twisting the doorknob to the conference room before you. Your entrance is accompanied by a creak. At once, four sets of eyes immediately fall on you.

The first is the usual creepy ass gaze of Mark Lee, way too happy to see you. The next one is unfamiliar, covered by the glint of his glasses lens, but you don’t sense any animosity. The third is both blurry yet somewhat recognizable at the same time— a shiver down your spine when you meet his sharp glare. What the hell? This guy looks terrifying.

And the last one feels like walking back into a den that you swore you’d never return to. 

Na Jaemin’s eyes flicker up from his phone the moment you enter. You stifle a swear under your breath and shoot your gaze down. He flashes you a smile. Ah, fuck. Of course he’d be here. It totally slipped your mind thanks to the high from your new office and Lee Haechan trying to hook up with you. You’ve yet to judge whether or not a sick new office outweighs having to deal with this sick freak’s face every day. 

“Attorney!” he chirps from across the room, comfortably lounging on one of the office chairs lining the long conference table. A squeak accompanies every time the chair swivels from left to right, back and forth. “Long time no see.”

Yeah, you hoped it’d stay that way, but when did the scales ever tip in your favor? You swallow down any attempt of fear trying to break out and turn your head to the side. “Mark, what are we discussing?”

Standing at the head of the table, your new boss smiles at you. Not because of your flat enthusiasm. No way. He seems to be amused that you just ignored Na Jaemin point blank. “Ah, yes. I wanted to properly introduce you to our division executives and give you a briefer on the company.”

The annoying swiveling sound has stopped. You don’t dare look at that side in the room throughout the rest of the meeting.

“Alright, now that everyone’s here, let’s get started.”

Nalkeutta is divided into four divisions, and the other four brutes you’re trapped in this room right now are the executives of those four divisions respectively. You already know Na Jaemin is the man in charge of Ganghak. Lee Haechan has Yoosun. Glasses is introduced as Huang Renjun, who’s in charge of Hyeongshin. Big scary guy is Daehyeon’s Lee Jeno.

There’s a familiar ring to all of these division names. They’re all high schools in Yeongdeungpo. It starts to all make sense when Mark Lee tells you that this gang of his was founded nine years ago. 

Nalkeutta started as a juvenile gang by a bunch of fucked up high schoolers. And those schools continue to serve as breeding grounds for scumbags like them. This shit is insane.

“Hold on.” 

Your voice echoes, freezing the entire room. You narrow your eyes at the very comprehensive diagram of Nalkeutta’s organizational structure Huang Renjun is presenting up front on a laptop screen. 

“There’s something wrong with this.” You get up from your seat. You squeeze past Mark and Renjun, taking control of the touchpad to zoom into the upper part of the chart. Your name is underneath Mark’s, and on the same level as the four executives, but that’s not the problem here. “Why am I the only one under the legal department?” you lift your head up as you say this, eyes firmly locked into Mark. “Where are the rest of the lawyers?”

Mark Lee attempts to look apologetic and remorseful. “Attorney,” he starts, walking up. “You know well how hard it is for Nalkeutta to establish trust between our partners. We are in fact extremely grateful that we managed to get someone we trust very deeply to finally work with us directly.”

This son of a bitch. They couldn’t have at least pretended to give a fuck about your position.

How—how does he expect you to manage the legal affairs of this messed up organization all by yourself? Your blood starts to simmer. Fuck it, it’s already boiling, and you’re just about to blow up when Mark Lee opens his mouth before you could.

“Anyhow, let’s talk salary.”

Goddammit. This guy sure knows how to pacify you.

Jeno hands him a binded folder. He smiles and hands it over to you. “This is our employment contract. Let me know if you find any issues so we can negotiate, but the important part is here.” 

You glance down at the part of the page he’s tapping. Yearly salary. Your eyes fly wide open when you see the numbers on the page.

150,000,000 KRW. 

Your head shoots up from the folder. You look at him like he’s joking. He isn’t.

“Does this meet your standards, attorney?”

Motherfucker. First, a new office. Now this. It’s like he wants to strip you from your rights to complain.

‎*‎

Your first job under Nalkeutta is accompanying Huang Renjun to a client meeting in Yeongdeungpo’s Chinatown.

“Good to have you around, attorney.”

Well. Client meeting is a stretch. The quote-unquote client is a mixed-martial arts gym under Hyeongshin that’s been paying protection fees very diligently until last month. Hyeongshin’s grunts were sent to sniff around the other week to see what was up, and the owner of the gym was caught rendezvousing with a Cheongang under the bridge connecting Yeongdeungpo and Map.

Cheongang. If Yeongdeungpo has Nalkeutta, Map is controlled by a different gang called Cheongang. You don’t have much intel on them, save for the fact that this district was once part of their territory until Mark Lee came into the picture. Needless to say, the two gangs don’t have the most amicable relationship. This is going to be less of a client meeting and more of a beatdown for sure.

“Why am I even here?” you grunt in the car on the way to your destination. Huang Renjun is scrolling through his ipad as he sits next to you. He’s kind enough to respond to your mindless grumbles.

“Having a lawyer around is always useful,” he simply says. “Mark says this is your first exposure to the organization’s operations. You don’t have to do anything. Just observe.”

You peer at the side mirror and look at the other two Nalkeutta cars trailing behind this one. Huang Renjun is actually a lot nicer than you expected. Considering your first introductions to Nalkeutta were Na Jaemin and Mark Lee, this guys is a breath of fresh air.

The air turns rancid the moment you cross the paifang gate, and you watch as all hell breaks loose at the Rongyu Mixed-Martial Arts Gym at four in the fucking afternoon.

“Gijeol-ah I thought we had a relationship!”

You wince at the sound of Renjun’s voice.

“How could you cheat on us with these ugly Cheongang pricks?”

The gym’s doors are closed, but there’s almost a dozen people guarding it— all looking like they’re one second away from jumping the nearest person and beating the shit out of them. A few moments later, the door rattles open. A head pops out. He looks like he’s about to crap his pants.

“You— you Nalketta fuckers ask for too much shit! How could you raise the protection fees overnight? That’s not fucking fair!

You really feel like you shouldn’t be here, but for once in your life, you feel pretty thankful that there are lines and lines of tank built men surrounding you as a protective shield.

“Well, it’s part of the contract you signed, Gijeol-ah! This is your fingerprint isn’t it?” Renjun taunts further, holding up a contract before tapping on the bottom right page. “If you were having trouble, you could’ve just gone to me directly. Hyeongshin is pretty understanding, you know. We even let you off with just a warning last time when you were three months late in paying your loans. You should’ve been grateful that you’re not under Ganghak or Daehyeon.”

Nevermind. You no longer feel safe. You hear the nearest Hyeongshin guy next to you crack his knuckles. Another one starts warming up. You won’t be surprised if one of them is currently frothing at the mouth.

Huang Renjun drops his hands down. He sighs and hands you the contract. 

“But you went off to stab us in the back, Gijeol-ah. Unfortunately this is as far as my understanding extends.” 

You briefly skim over it. Wow. Mark Lee put work into this. It’s vague enough to bypass statutory limitations. They’re using Daybreak Security Company as the legal entity to ensure the contract’s validity. You see a few questionable provisions that might void this contract. And that’s gonna be your job to fix. Lucky you.

“You— you can go and shove your understanding up your ass! I’m sick and tired of Nalkeutta’s bullshit!”

“You’re breaking up with us? That’s too bad.” It’s starting. Huang Renjun lands a hand on one of his men’s shoulder. “Give me a call once you’re done.”

With that, they start to move forward. Renjun walks up to you and you hear a yell and the sounds of fists being thrown the moment he spins you around and prods you to the opposite direction of the noise. Various thuds and screams flood you from behind, the sounds of bones crushing and bodies crashing getting dimmer as you both continue to walk back to the car. 

“You hungry, attorney?” Huang Renjun asks. “I know a good dim sum place nearby.”

“Wait, what the fuck, hold on,” you stop. He turns to you, brow raised. “We’re leaving? Just like that?”

Renjun narrows his eyes. “What? You want to watch that disgusting mess?”

With that prompt, you hesitantly turn around, and there you see a Nalkeutta guy swinging a metal bat straight into the ribcage of one Cheongag grunt. Oof. You wince. What a waste of a good sunset.

“I don’t fight. What’s the point of having men working under you if you won’t put them to good use?” The both of you make it back to the car. The driver inside greets Renjun, and the latter waves him off. “But if it’s a hard job, then I just transfer the case to Ganghak or Daehyeon. Usually Ganghak. Most of those guys are just like their psychopath of a boss.”

Yeah. This guy isn’t normal, either. What did you expect? At least he’s polite to you.

You slide into the backset. “Dim sum sounds nice.”

“Great.” He follows not long after, leaving an instruction to the driver. “Take us to Mama Hong’s.”

Renjun was right. Mama Hong has a killer dim sum selection, and you’d bookmark it on your maps if this place didn’t remind you of a massacre that’s currently ongoing. You can’t exactly enjoy your pork buns to the fullest knowing full well that someone’s head is getting bashed in right now. The silver lining is the fact that Huang Renjun is a good conversationalist and has not once called you a bitch nor tried to get in your pants in the past two hours that you’ve been with him. 

He’s a pretty cool guy. He joined the gang for money because he was a dirt poor immigrant in high school but then at one point he realized he was in too deep to quit.

It’s good to know you’re both stuck in Nalkeutta because you treasure your lives. It’s like Mark Lee has an invisible loaded gun perpetually pointed at your heads. What a way to bond in solidarity.

The sun had long set when Renjun received the text that the job was done. “Let’s go,” he tells you. “Two hours of overtime is good enough.”

See, this guy speaks your language. 

It takes another twenty minutes to get back to the Nalkeutta building, jotting another extra hour on your DTR. Meaning three total hours of overtime pay. Fucking amazing. If things continue speeding at this rate, then you won’t be entirely miserable working here. You’re already walking out the sliding doors of hell and thinking about harvesting your crops the moment you get home— but that’s exactly the moment the world decides that you haven’t filled your daily quota of dread yet.

“Attorney.”

Goddammit. You should know by now that the moment you think things are going well, god’s just gonna immediately spit in your mouth and tell you to enjoy it.

Na Jaemin lights the cigarette between his teeth, embers cascading onto the ground only for a good second before he stops on it to flash you a smile. “Took you fucking long enough,” he says. “Come with me. New recruits screening.”

Your brows furrow. When you don’t move for ten seconds too long, Na Jaemin’s smile drops.

“Mark’s orders. Notarize their contracts, or some shit.”

For fuck’s sake, you just clocked out. Disgruntled, you force your body out of its frozen state and you hear the psycho walking in front of you mutter something under his breath— something you’re not curious enough to find out. He leads you to a parking garage just a few blocks away, and it’s at this moment that you realize that maybe he lied to beat the shit out of you without anything knowing.

That fear is shut down when the dim, flickering lights of the rundown garage reveal seven teenage boys standing in one line as if they’re about to run a military drill. They’re all wearing Ganghak uniforms. This is some kind of sick mockery.

“Alright, you fucking maggots.”

Jesus christ. The way you flinch at Na Jaemin’s voice is purely instinctual— something that hasn’t been deeply ingrained into the seven boys before you, it seems, because they continue standing stiff and still with their chins up as Na Jaemin saunters up to them. He fishes something out from his pocket. You squint. It’s a car key. He clicks on it. You wince, a sudden glaring of lights from behind the boys.

“There’s only one car. There’s seven of you.”

You hear his voice speak as your vision readjusts.

“Get to it.”

Hold on a second.

“Hey, hurry the fuck up. Why aren’t any of you moving?” Your mouth gapes. You watch the realization slowly sink into the seven faces in front of you— an expression that Na Jaemin doesn’t share because more than anything, he looks pretty annoyed right now. He lets out a grunt and flicks his wrist up to check the time. The look on his face when he drops it back down is enough to send at least three of the kids stuttering. “If no one hits the ground in three seconds, you’re all fucking death for wasting my time. One. Two. Thr—”

The sound of a knuckle hitting a jaw. You shut your eyes and look away. 

There’s nothing enjoyable about watching a bunch of teenagers beating the shit out of each other, but your co-worker seems to fashion a different opinion. “Whew.”  A nasty grin spreads on his face, just as one of the boys drops onto dusty cement, no sign of getting back up any time soon. “One down. Can’t wait for this shitshow to be fucking over.”

You’re horrified as you look at him, but that’s the problem— you’re looking at him, and this doesn’t go under his notice. 

Na Jaemin locks into you. He tosses his unfinished cigarette behind and traps you into an unwanted conversation. “We haven’t seen each other in a while, attorney,” he starts with a hum. “You haven’t even spared me a hello since you got here. It’s almost like all those weeks we spent in prison together are nothing to you.”

Even if you want to talk to him, what the hell are you supposed to say to that?

You resign by flitting your eyes to the side and looking away. You hear a scoff and the sound of a lighter click, followed by the reintroduction of his foul cigarette smoke wafting through the air around you. “Want a hit?” he asks. You grimace. You get a feeling that he won’t appreciate being ignored a third time. So you force an answer out of your suffocating throat, and you try your best to make it entertaining so he doesn’t sock you in the face for being dull and boring.

“No, thank you,” you quickly say. “I intend on dying from heart failure, not from my lungs collapsing.”

He lets out a huff. You almost mistake it for laughter. “Either way, you die.”

“That’s true, but I don’t want my breath smelling like rot before the rest of my body does.”

Silence. Uh-oh. You’re met with a prolonged silence, followed by the click of his tongue and you notice him tossing the second cigarette like the first one, a little less willingly this time. God. There’s no place for your eyes around here. In front, there’s a teen battle royale and to your left is a bastard who gets triggered by eye contact. There’s nowhere for you to look but down, and even then you can still hear the cacophony of pained groans and punches hitting.

“Had fun on your little excursion with Renjun?”

Why the fuck is he trying to make small talk now? “A bit. He didn’t force me to watch a massacre and treated me out to dim sum. It was great.”

“Hah.” 

The hairs on the back of your neck jolt.

“Ain’t that pretty fucking nice.”

Why the fuck is he mad about that?

You snap your head up, about to look at Na Jaemin, but your attention is pried off from him when you hear the gravelled roar of one of the Ganghak students in front. Your eyes blur from the whiplash— then you notice one boy battered with deep heavy breaths, standing above his fallen peers. His eyes are wide. There’s multiple bruises on the visible parts of his skin. The weight of your worry is trumped by Na Jaemin’s sheer apathy.

“I—I did it,” the boy breathes out. “I did it, hyung-nim.”

Na Jaemin looked like he was just watching his favorite show earlier. Now he looks like he can give less than two shits about what this kid had just pulled off. “Name.” You can never fucking figure him out.

“Sion…Oh Sion.”

He grunts. “Yeah, congrats, whatever.” He tosses the car keys to the ground. It lands next to one of the writhing kids groaning in pain. “Now get lost.”

Na Jaemin’s heels turn back and he quickly starts walking away. You’re flabbergasted. Your feet move one way, then quickly reverse. What the fuck. What are you supposed to do now?

“Hey!” You catch up to him, still looking back at the sight you’re leaving behind. “We’re leaving already? Doesn’t the kid need to sign a contract?” He’s walking way too fast. He leers at you with an annoyed grunt and starts walking even faster.

“I don’t have it. Fuck, whatever, he can do that shit tomorrow.”

“What?” It comes off as a screech. “I thought Mark asked me to be here!”

Na Jaemin suddenly stops. You bump into his shoulder and stumble back with a swear. When you draw your breath in to look up, you see that Na Jaemin is already looking at you with an intensity that burns away all the venom out of your throat, leaving nothing but silence behind.

“Mark didn’t say shit,” he spits out. You think he’s about to toss you into the nearest dumpster, but then you notice a wrinkle between his brows. It’s deep. It’s troubled. And then he lets out an exasperated groan. “Whatever.” 

Na Jaemin stomps away, leaving you in the dead of night to figure out what the fuck just happened.

‎*‎

Before making it back home to your apartment, you stop by a public phone booth to call an ambulance to the scene of the altercation. This is way too much overtime for your first official day, and the last hour wasn’t even paid because you already clocked out before Na Jaemin lied to your face just to make you watch a teenage fight right and throw a tantrum at the very end with no fucking explanation.

Needless to say, it was an eventful day. It gets even more eventful when you reach the door of your apartment, about to key in your passcode, until you notice a piece of paper sticking out from underneath the door gap.

Your brows knit together. You snap a picture of it before slipping it out of the door and finally letting yourself in, dropping your work bag onto the floor of your entryway to examine what had been lodged into your apartment.

It’s an envelope. A cream colored envelope with a few smudges on the paper.

You open it. You couldn’t be less prepared with what you’re about to read.

You’re fucking dead, bitch.

Wow. Now a literal death threat. It’s almost as if you’re not allowed to catch a fucking break.

fire and brimstone (and you’re a moth made of gasoline). © hannie-dul-set, 2025.

[valleydoli]

𝜗𝜚 Only You 𝜗𝜚

Cw 𝜗𝜚 MDNI, Stalking, Obsessiveness, Controlling Behaviour, Love Bombing, Murder, Fluff, Kidnapping, Smut, Toxic Sukuna, Yandere Sukuna? Readers a sweetie, (Touch her you die… like actually…)

𝜗𝜚 Series Masterlist…

𝜗𝜚 Previous Chapter | Chapter Three…

𝜗𝜚 WC: 3k

Luckily for Sukuna, his extremely compliant twin agreed to let him pick up his son from school, but the weekend couldn’t have been any slower for Sukuna.

Anything he did to occupy himself and keep you from creeping your way into his mind was a dud. He’s starting to think you’ve put some sort of spell on him. A minute couldn’t pass without you running through his twisted mind.

Any second he had to himself, he would spend it scrolling through your Instagram, saving some, if not all, pictures you’ve posted into a folder he has already made specially for you. Lucky for him, you post a lot, a bit too much. He doesn’t like that, you can't do that when you’re finally his. You just seem too… open.

Too trusting.

Too naïve.

See, you’ve tagged your apartment complex as a location, and you’re wearing a shirt with your work logo in another one of your posts. Your profiles are public for God's sake.

You’re incredibly naive.

You don’t know half of the disgusting, evil men out there. But it’s fine, he’s here now. Sukuna will always be there to keep you safe. He’s your protector. He’s your saviour. He was put on this earth for the sole purpose of protecting you, his angel.

You are his angel.

“What’re you doing to me?” Sukuna whispers to himself. He’s never felt this way before. He's never had someone occupy his mind to this extent. He’s never wanted to be with a woman like this. He doesn’t do relationships, as cliche as it sounds, but he would have rather been alone for the rest of his life. He's never wanted to have a girlfriend by his side, to hold, to kiss, to love, to protect. But with you, it’s different, you’ve changed him for the better. He needs you, and you need him.

You need each other.

*Ping*

‘I’ve found some stuff on the girl…’ Toji messages

Sukuna sighs heavily. Toji really tests his damn patience.

‘Like what, Toji? Don’t beat around the bush.’

‘My bad…’

‘She’s studying Art at university, in her 2nd year, and umm, she’s also a teacher at Megumi's preschool. Yano with your nephew… probably should have mentioned that, huh?’

What. The fuck. Jin AND Toji knew who you were before him?!

‘Toji, don’t piss me off. I told you her name, you don’t know her fucking name?’

‘I’m sorry, I dont know her fucking name. They just call her Miss Fluttershy or somethin, from that kids' show? My little horse? I think she mentioned her name before, I just forgot…’

‘You’re so fucking useless sometimes.’ Sukuna runs his large hand down his face.

My God. Yuji talks about you every fucking day. You gave him those stupid colouring books.

“Miss Fluttershy.”

The kids’ just as obsessed with you as he is.

‘Do you know what days she’s working?’

‘Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays’

‘Perfect.’

~~~

As Monday finally rolls by, Sukuna couldn’t be more thrilled to see you again. There hasn’t been a second since he met you that he hasn’t thought about you. What will you wear? A dress? It’s quite warm today. What perfume will you use? Do you have a favourite? How will you style your hair? In a bun? No, a ponytail!

His body is practically buzzing with excitement just to see your face again.

To smell you.

To hear your voice…

The way you say his name... It’s been echoing through his mind.

So soft and delicate.

What would you sound like yelling his name? What would you sound like moaning his name, while he slid his thick inches into your tight walls.

“Fuck…” he sighs, as he rubs against his growing member—

No.

Stop.

It’s almost 14:00, he’s got 30 minutes until he needs to pick up Yuji, (and meet the love of his life again,) and he looks a fucking mess. Hair disheveled, five o’clock shadow. He looks nasty. It’s not good enough for him. It’s not good enough for you.

Sukuna finally pulls himself out of bed, throwing on a wife-beater, a grey tracksuit and shaving his five o’clock shadow.

Great. Presentable.

15 minutes.

15 minutes until he sees you again.

~~~

“Come on, Yuji, honey, your daddy’s here.”

“No, it’s not my Papa, it’s Uncle,” the pink-haired boy says as he grasps onto your hand.

Oh, the mysterious brother Jin always speaks about, and the Uncle little Yuji admires.

“Really? I can’t wait to meet him! I’m sure he’s just as lovely as you.”

“No, he’s a big meanie,” The young boy deadpans.

Oh…

As you turn the corner with little Yuji trailing by your side, you’re faced with someone you didn’t expect to see at your place of work.

Sukuna.

How does he know where you work— wait. Is he here for Yuji? He’s Jin’s brother? The brother Jin and Yuji mentioned countless times?

There you are, and you look so beautiful. He was right, you’re wearing a dress. A floral dress. How adorable. He just wants to dress you up like the doll you are— wait.

You’re flustered. Why are you flustered? Aren’t you happy to see him? Did he do something wrong?

“Sukuna? You’re Yuji's uncle?” You inquired, “Wow… Come to think of it, you guys look so much alike. I should have noticed the moment I looked at you, huh?”

You begin to chuckle to yourself

“Actually, I think Jin and Yuji are happier looking than you.”

“He’s always angry, Miss Flutter,” Yuji chimes in.

He’s holding your hand why is he still holding your fucki—

No, he’s not about to be jealous of his 4-year-old nephew, no way.

Control yourself.

“Mhm, that little brat is my nephew.”

“I’m not a brat!” Yuji calls out

“You’re right, sweetheart, you’re the cutest one here, but don’t tell anyone I said that, okay? It’s our little secret.”

He vigorously nods his head, “Mhm, I promise!”

You’re good with kids, you’re so good with kids. You don’t understand how attractive that makes you. Oh, how desperately he wants to make you a mother. A mother to his kids, his twin—

“Suku, can Miss Flutter get ice cream with us?” He hears his nephew say.

Oh my God.

Yuji, you fucking genius.

“He’s right, you should come, it’s by my place, ‘Kaspas.’ I can take you home afterwards?”

Say yes.

“I do love that place, but I wouldn’t want to intrude…”

Angel, there wouldn’t even be a point in Sukuna's miserable life where you could intrude. Ever. If he could keep you by his side forever. He would.

“You could never intrude. Come on, my treat before our date.” He smirks as he desperately tries to convinces you to get ice cream with him… and Yuji.

Just fucking say yes. Do you not want to be around him?

“Hmm… okay fine, I’ll come along. Let me get my stuff quickly.”

Thank fuck.

Sukuna lets out a relieved sigh. You’re difficult. Is that normal for you? If it is, he's got to correct it. He can't have a disobedient girl by his side.

No way.

Again, Yuji pulls him out of his thoughts, “Suku, do you like Miss Flutter?” The young boy asks as he looks up at his uncle.

Sukuna chuckles and leans down to the boy’s ear and whispers,

“Don’t be a nosy brat.”

~~~

As you make your way to the car park, with Yuji still grasping onto your hand, you come into sight with Sukuna's car, an extremely expensive car. What the hell does he do for a living?

“Detective,” He answers back.

“Huh?”

“You’re thinking out loud. I’m a detective,” he admits.

“Woah, it pays well clearly,” you say as he opens the car door for you.

“Aren’t you a gentleman?”

“Just for you, angel,” he winks.

You’ve been watching him drive for the past five minutes. You can’t help but stare. He’s so beautiful. He and Jin hardly look alike as twins. Don’t get it twisted, Jin is just as attractive as his brother, but there’s something so ethereal about Sukuna's features. Almost as if he’s not a real person. Does he have any flaws? He was perfectly sculpted by the gods themselves. His arms are… massive, he clearly spends a lot of his time in the gym. His nose… is so… rideable. My goodness, how did you get this guy to approach you?

“You’re staring, angel, you like what you see?” Sukuna questions, as he cocks his brow.

“Yes, I actually do.” You shyly replied

“Well, we don’t live far from each other, you’re more than welcome to see me more.”

“I know I’m just— I’m really busy, as much as I’d like to see you, I need to focus on school and work…”

Sukuna wants to be mad, but you’re such a good fucking girl. You should focus on your studies, yes, but what about him? His focus is on you right now, so why isn’t yours on him?

Bullshit

“But, maybe we could have dinner tonight?” You innocently ask.

“I’m making lasagna, do you like it?”

“I love it, Miss Flutter!” Yuji chimes from the backseat

Honestly, Sukuna forgot Yuji was here.

Sukuna sternly looks at the boy through his rearview mirror. “No, you’re going home after this, brat.” He asserts.

“Hmph,” you hear from the sulking child, as he crosses his arms and pouts his lips.

“I’ll love whatever you’re making,” He grins.

“You might be my biggest fan behind Yuji, Sukuna. You’re not gonna start stalking me, are you?”

Sukuna grin falters

“‘Course not, I’m a normal guy. I promise.”

Liar.

~~~

The three of you arrive at the dessert parlour, 20 minutes later. It’s understandably packed since it’s a warm day. You find a table in the corner of the shop, giving Yuji the seat by the window, and Sukuna sitting opposite you.

“Hi, what can I get you guys today?”

“Cookies and cream!” Yuji yells at the server

“And for you, pretty?”

Sukuna's eyes darken and snap towards the boy. The fuck did he say?

You giggle.

You fucking giggled.

You think that pathetic attempt at flirting is cute?

“Vanilla ice cream, please, and some cookie dough.”

“And for you?” the guy mutters at Sukuna.

Sukuna side-eyes the server and mumbles a quick “nothing.”

The audacity this kid has to speak to you like that and you like it?!

“Sukuna, are you okay? You don’t want anything?”

“I'm not big on sweet things,” he comments bluntly.

“Oh-kayy, it’ll be about five minutes.” He finally walks away.

That little shit. Who the fuck does he think he is. And why the fuck are you feeding into his bullshit?

“What a creep,” he hears you say.

“I swear, everytime i come here he does that shit, it’s boring.”

“Does he bother you?”

“Every damn time. I just pretend I’m into it now, he was way creepier before,” you pout as you look out the window.

Sukunas lips twitch into a smirk.

Angel, you're never seeing that piece of shit again after today. Don't worry your pretty little head.

He’ll protect you.

“Why don’t we take it to go? And I’ll take you and the kid home before dinner,” Sukuna proposes.

“Yeah, I’d like tha—“ you begin to say but that dumbass server cuts you off.

“Here are your orders. And this is for you,” he winks at you before walking away.

It’s his number.

“Well, I guess he’s feeling confident today, huh?” You awkwardly say.

“Come on, Yuji, let’s go,” you say as you grab his smaller hand in yours to leave. You make sure not to pick up the tissue with the server's number on it and make your way to Sukuna's car. But don’t worry, Sukuna definitely made sure to pick up the tissue and stuff it in the pocket of his joggers.

“How about you take Yuji back without me, and I get started on dinner? I'll text you my address,” you say, but you don’t give Sukuna the chance to answer back, you’re already walking away.

“Bye, Yuji!” You wave.

Sukuna hates to see you go but fuck, he loves to watch you leave. How long until he gets a hold of you, really? How long until he can see you every second of every day? Really, how long? What if he kept watch of you—no, that's too much… is it though? He’d be able to keep an eye on you from afar, for now at least. It's not too much if it's keeping you safe.

“C'mon, kid, let’s go.”

~~~

You've never cooked for a guy before. I mean, you've cooked for Satoru before, but he's not a guy, he's… Satoru. Satoru, who lives down the hall, Satoru. You know? You wonder if he and Sukuna will get along if you both continue seeing each other.

You've texted Sukuna your address, so he should arrive soon. Luckily, you're prepared to have guests today, your apartment is spotless, well besides your bedroom but he won’t see that. Fuck you’re nervous, over some guy? But he's not just some guy. You've known his brother, his twin brother, for over a year now. This is insane.

Finally, you hear a knock at your door. He’s here. Gosh, are your palms sweating right now?

Calm down, you’ve got this. The food looks good, and you look good. Everything's going to be just fine. Now just open the door.

Once you swing your door, you’re faced with the biggest assortment of flowers. Peonies, roses.

You're in awe.

“Sukuna… these flowers… they’re my favourtie.”

You tweeted that they were your favourite flowers in 2018… Yes, he scrolled that deep into your socials.

“Gosh, they're so beautiful, thank you. I don't know where to put them. Come in quick before the food gets cold.” You say as you hurry excitedly to your kitchen.

Your apartment's cute.

Cosy, for a girl like you.

Sukuna bets you’d feel cosier in his apartment. You’d have so much more space for your books, your pretty shoes, your dresses. You’d feel at home. Home is wherever he is. You need to live with him. You need his protection. But for now he can just watch you. How? He has 4 mini cameras stuffed in his pockets he's planning on hiding around your apartment. There’s already one outside your door so he can see who comes in and out of your place.

He just needs to figure out where he wants to put the rest of them.

“Here, sit. Do you want something to drink? I have wine, some tropical juice and water of course.”

“I’ll just have water, I've actually got to go into work later.”

“Work.” He’s actually going to beat the shit out of the server that’s been harassing.

That’s still work, right?

“So,” you begin as you take a seat opposite Sukuna.

“I still can’t believe you’re Jin’s twin. You just seem the complete opposite especially in looks. You’re fraternal, right?”

“Yeah, I’m 6 minutes older.” He tells you

You sigh longingly, “I’ve always wanted twins… girls of course.”

You were made for each other.

“Wow, so do I, what a coincidence,” he admits.

“We might as well get started then, huh?” You suggest as you sip your wine.

He chokes on his drink.

What’d you say?

But before Sukuna can reply back there’s a knock on your door.

“Hey, you in there?”

A guy? What man is looking for you at this hour.

You roll your eyes before pushing back your chair and making your way to open the door for said man.

“Yes, ‘Toru? I’m kind of busy right now.”

‘Toru?

“I’m sorry but I could really need some help… please?” This “‘Toru” says with a charming smile.

Annoying.

“‘Kuna, you don’t mind if I help my neighbour quickly?”

“Kuna…”

“No, not at all.” Now if he didn’t need to hide the 4 cameras in his pocket around your house, he would mind. But this “‘Toru” guy is honestly helping him out.

“Ten minutes,” you tell him as you shut your door.

Sukuna instantly rises from his seat and makes a Beeline for your bedroom.

It’s messy.

You didn’t make your bed. Do you leave your bed unmade everyday? There’s a bottle of water on your side table. You didn’t finish it.

Weren’t you thirsty last night?

Sukuna runs his large hands across your bed sheets. Running his fingers along each crease you’ve made.

What side do you sleep on? Away from the door, right?

Makes you feel safe.

“Who else has slept in here? That ‘Toru?” He spits as he kneels down to your bed level

He can smell you. So sweet. What perfume is that? He puts his face right into your sheets and breathes your scent in deeply.

“Fuck,” he mutters into your sheets.

He was practically drooling.

“God, I think I love you, Angel.”

He’s started to rub on his crotch, your smell is getting to him.

Rock hard.

He’s a creep but he doesn’t care. You’re like a drug.

An addiction.

His addiction.

He begins to pull out his leaky length from his boxers, rubbing his thumb across his swollen red tip.

So much pre-cum it’s dripping onto the side of your duvet.

He strokes himself back and forth steadily, still breathing into your unmade bed.

It’s your hand stroking him; pretend it’s you. You’re whispering his name softly…

Sensually

His pace quickens.

You might be back soon. He needs to hurry. You can’t see him in such a… pathetic state. You can’t see him in this state at all. Not yet at least.

The schlick sound of his length could be heard from the other room, he’s desperate at this point. Whining for you, pleading for you.

“L-love you. Ugh, I love you, Angel.” He cries out as if he's confessing to you.

“Need you. So b-bad.”

His core tightens, hands clutching onto your sheets.

Wishing the load he’s about to release was spilling into your womb instead.

Soon

His throat lets out a guttural moan, he’s cumming, but not into you.

Into his hand.

His fucking hand.

Pathetic.

After Sukuna recuperates himself, he places each camera in a spot he knows you won’t see, but he’ll definitely see you.

He also takes a few presents for himself from your washing basket.

He’ll definitely make good use out of them.

It’s been 10 minutes and you’re not back yet. What’re you doing with your neighbour?

Just as Sukuna is wondering where you are, you open your front door dishing out apologies for your absence.

He’s not mad… Only because he has a date to attend.

A date with the Parlour Boy.

𝜗𝜚 Chapter Three…

a/n: ehhhh. ehhhhhhh he was creeping me out at the end icl but uh what do you think? i’ve never write this much before. i know for a fact im gonna come back and rewrite things in the future but here you go! goodnight ♡

[azzibueckers5]

i wanna know peace again (wanna sing a different song) (ao3 link) (chapter 1 link)

chapter 2: in which azzi is a drama queen and mentally calls herself the word stupid so many times that it loses its meaning (wc: ~8.5k) (gasp)

AN: ummmm hiiiiii i'm back. please enjoy! i wanted to make it angstier but i didn't want to actually write that? so here you go. umm. any and all mistakes re: basketball and the wnba (and anything else) are mine and mine only! i'm learning slowly and I googled a lot of things but who knows. i think that's it? idk have fun freaks <3

azzi wakes to a pounding headache, a crick in her neck from sleeping on the couch, and an overwhelming sense of dread at everything in the world ever. 

hanxiety doesn’t even begin to capture the feeling that curdles in her stomach when she goes to confirm that last night wasn’t a hyper-realistic dream, the words outgoing call, 1:47 reflecting back at her bleary eyes underneath paige’s contact. she’d called her at two in the fucking morning. good god. 

she’s not sure if the wine or the hours of crying is the cause of the absolute knife between her temples, but it doesn’t matter because she needs three advils, like, now, before she begins processing the nightmare that the previous night really was. 

she drags herself off the couch, wincing at the ache in her muscles, and heads to her bedroom to change out of last night's pjs and try and dig up the pain killers that she knows are somewhere in her bedside table. 

briefly, humorously, she contemplates the tub of miscellaneous, much stronger drugs that she’s accumulated over her years of surgeries and injuries. maybe if she overdoses on the opioids she’d been given but never taken after her acl tear she won’t have to deal with this whole L-word realization that is sure to ruin the current stability of her life. 

as she mentally picks through the haze of wine over her memories from the night before, the pit in her stomach grows. she had been a lot of things the prior night- stupid, emotional, drunk, but wrong about the truth of her complex web of emotion surrounding paige? 

she wasn’t so sure. (she was actually kind of sure she hadn’t been wrong. which. fuck.)

after swallowing her pills (advil, not the oxycodone), she picks up her phone and fires off three texts to aaliyah in quick succession, needing her to know how much her line of questioning had caused azzi to spiral.

azzi: u suck btw. 

azzi: the all-star break isn't the time to make me over analyze my friendships

azzi: or my sexuality for that matter

the older girl responds in a matter of seconds.

lili: BRUH I THOUGHT U KNEW

lili: come shoot before practice w me and we can talk it out

lili: but jsyk uve been moping for A YEAR my bad for thinking it was cause yall broke up

azzi: brooooo everyone always says friendship breakups r worse anyways

she releases a long suffering sigh to the mirror above her dresser. she looks a little bit like shit, eyes puffy and cheek creased, posture slumped over looking at her phone. the picture of i don’t want to have this crisis right now but i fear it’s too late. 

screw everything. she looks back down at the buzz of her phone in her palm:

aaliyah: that’s only for straight girls dumbass

azzi: ok well i thought i WAS a straight girl

lili: [screenshotted image of her profile photo for azzi: her, sitting on the ground in the uconn facilities, propped up against the base of her locker, legs spread comfortably. her head is tilted up at the camera, a smirk lopsided on her face, and one hand is throwing up a four, the other splayed out across the top of her trucker hat. she’s wearing a huskies sports bra and sweatpants, slung low enough on her hips to exhibit the the thick band of her basketball shorts and the v of her lower abs] 

lili: does this look like a straight girl to u 

it's almost funny how obvious the answer is. azzi types out a succinct kill youself and throws her phone across her bed.

she feels like she should be concerned with how easily the knowledge that she’s into women (or at least one specific woman) settles into her skin. but somehow it feels more like something she’d known about herself and simply buried, waiting for the right time to fully process. and this doesn’t necessarily feel like the right time, but it's happening whether azzi likes it or not, and she supposes that accepting that you’re gay is a lot easier when every single person in your life already knew and thought you knew before you actually did. 

the only person she really has to solidly come out to is herself (she ignores the voice in her head telling her that she will also maybe have to come out to paige at some point. if they talk and y’know. things go the way azzi is somehow already desperately hoping they will), and she’d always kind of known, in an abstract sense anyway, that she was attracted to women, but she’d never really had a crush on one or had the inclination to actually do anything about that thought so it had sat on the backburner, something she only really thought about when she was drunk, or lonely,  or some combination of the two. 

she figures she can work out whether she’s ever even been into men at all at a later date. all she can think about right now is paige anyways, and it's childish, but she’s almost annoyed at how cliche she feels for having her gay realization be the blonde, like she’s just another fangirl in paige’s tik tok comment section writing some variation of ‘i'm straight, but its paige bueckers!’ 

and it’s stupid, but it feels like she’s feeding into paige's ego by just acknowledging this space that’s been carved out in her chest. paige had always been droning on and on about how much rizz she had, how everybody wanted her, and azzi had loved nothing more than humbling her, calling her conceited and egotistical and stupid, and well. it seems azzi had been the stupid one all along. 

she knows, though, that this feeling, this thing in her chest that has somehow ballooned inside of her overnight, runs much, much deeper than the silly, surface level attraction that most people attributed to paige. and she also reasons that she knows paige, both her flaws and her insecurities and the parts that make her so wonderful, in a way that none of the teenage girls on tiktok could ever begin to even dream of. 

being in love with paige (and she guesses she’s really acknowledging it now, so that's. cool.) didn’t feel like a fluke, but rather something that was simply innate inside of her, ever humming under her skin. 

she curses the universe for giving her this mid-life crisis eight days before she has to hop on the flight that will take her directly to paige’s city, but there's an underlying feeling of hope, too, that she tries to squash. she firmly ignores the thought that it feels a little bit like a cosmic sign. 

paige having a woman she was almost certainly sleeping with, minimum, in the background of her phone at 1am also kinda felt like a cosmic sign. a sign that meant it's too late. 

and. oh god. she needs to text paige about dallas. 

and what the fuck to you say to your ex best friend who you hypothetically were (are?) in love with and drunkenly called crying after a year of not speaking one-on-one to try and plan a hangout? your ex best homoerotic friend who maybe has a new girl? 

but paige had insinuated that she wasn’t expecting azzi to actually reach out, which, aside from the fact that azzi did want to, also made it somewhat of a competition, and azzi didn’t lose competitions. especially against paige. 

it's already nearing 10 am, and even though paige is an hour behind, she wants to make it clear that she’s true to her word. paige had seemed like she’d wanted her to text, too, and. she’d said she missed her. a lot.

she types out the first thing she thinks of, u gonna show me your cowboy boots collection or what, and sends it before she can talk herself out of it.

the anger at paige from the night before is still simmering in her blood, a little bit, because what the fuck? they haven't talked in a year and it was paige’s fault. but also. azzi knows paige, even after all this time, and. she has a growing hunch that instead of the callous disregard for azzi and their friendship that paige had tried so hard to portray, azzi is starting to think that it had been hurt, not indifference, that had caused paige to distance them.

when paige doesn’t immediately respond to azzi’s text and profess her undying love for azzi and azzi only, she tries to convince her immune system that she did not, in fact, just drink poison and she was not, in fact, having a heart attack. 

and god, was it normal to feel like she was dying after sending a text? yesterday-azzi was lucky as fuck that she thought she hadn’t been in love because this fucking sucked. 

she makes breakfast with her anxiety at an all time high, checking her phone every sixty seconds and nearly burning her omelette. as the minutes tick by, azzi tries to resign herself to the reality that maybe paige had told her to text because she didn’t believe azzi would, not in spite of it. 

but then, as azzi is throwing things in her bag to leave for the facilities and bombard aaliyah with questions and a borderline mental breakdown, she feels her phone buzz in her pocket. she drops her water bottle on her foot in her haste to check what it says, and it hurts like a bitch, but paige responds with ‘unfortunately only one pair of boots. but im sure my hat collection will impress u’ and well. 

azzi’s foot could be broken for all she cares, because paige responded and she’s texting like old paige, and maybe it's flirting, maybe it's not, azzi clearly has no idea, but it's a million times better than the one-word messages she received throughout last year, and.

hope blooms, slow and steady, in azzi’s heart, despite her attempts to squash it.  

…

azzi: please tell me you don’t actually wear any of them outside the house

paige: u have to wear one here at all times or they’ll kill u

paige: texas is no joke

azzi: so i guess i’ll need to borrow one when im down there then

paige: when do u fly in 

paige: ill give u the pick of the litter 

…

(azzi does not shriek when she sees that text after practice. she does not.)

…

three days before azzi flies to dallas (and potentially lights herself on fire), she has a moment of weakness. after a particularly tiring lift and a day without more than a few new texts from paige, she settles into bed freshly showered with her laptop propped open on a pillow. she means to put on the rest of the abbot elementary episode she’d been watching earlier, but her fingers apparently aren’t connected to the rest of her body because they type in “paige bueckers and azzi fudd” into the youtube search bar instead. 

a couple nonsense videos pop up before her eyes catch on to the SLAM interview they’d done together right before azzi’s freshman year season. she clicks the link before she can chicken out.

it's a behind the scenes, with interview anecdotes thrown in between clips of them messing around, and they look so young. and jesus the way paige is looking at her. like she hangs the moon in the sky. and eighteen year old azzi isn’t much better, and she can’t keep her eyes off the blonde for more than five milliseconds, and they’re, well, they’re flirting right in front of current azzi’s face, and good god. no wonder everyone had thought something was going on. 

if azzi hadn’t lived through it, known the way they’d only ever tiptoed the line, never crossing, she would’ve thought so too. 

she makes it six minutes into the video before she slams her laptop shut, rolls over, and screams bloody murder into her pillowcase. 

…

the mystics don’t fly down until the night before, and their game is in the afternoon, so she and paige make tentative plans to hang out after azzi ‘find[s] out what happens when you mess with texas.’

paige is a dork, and an unfunny one at that. she hearts the message when azzi tells her as much, and azzi has to hide her smile in the hood of her sweatshirt so georgia doesn’t ask any pestering questions when paige adds ‘unfunny maybe but a loser? never.’

azzi really, really hopes that this text-flirting or whatever they’re doing means that paige doesn’t have a girlfriend. she doesn’t think her heart could take it if she did, and she doesn’t understand how paige (maybe? she’s being optimistic. sue her.) lived with these feelings for so long and didn’t act on them because it's been a singular week of occasional texting and only that has azzi feeling like she’s going to tear her hair out. 

the flight to dallas and subsequent restless night of sleep in a mediocre hotel room crawls by so slowly that azzi feels like she’s been physically transported to a planet in which every minute that goes by is actually an hour. or something. she doesn’t remember the plot of interstellar but she feels like messy time travel and space stuff like that was part of it. maybe it's happening to her. stranger things have occurred.

(like not knowing you were in love with your best friend for eight years)

(she doesn’t remember the plot of interstellar because the uconn team had watched it one slow off-season afternoon, and azzi had let paige coax her into taking an edible, gotten ridiculously high and scared, and had spent the entire movie with her face tucked into paige’s shoulder, letting the hands rubbing her back and stupid commentary in her ear lull her into safety) 

(fuck everything)

…

and then the most dreaded and anticipated day of azzi’s short, miserable life so far is upon her. thank god it’s a saturday game, so tipoff is at 2:00, and she doesn’t have to drown in anxiety for a whole day beforehand, because breakfast and the pregame meeting in the hotel is tortuous enough as is. 

kiki has to forcefully put her hand on azzi’s leg on the bus to get it to stop jumping up and down, and everyone knows not to bring up anything related to paige in front azzi, and she hasn’t said anything to anyone other the aaliyah about how they’re speaking again, but she can feel the sideways glances her teammates are sharing behind her back and her brain itches. 

they warm up on the court after the wings are done with their shooting drills, meaning azzi only gets a glance of paige disappearing back into the tunnel when they head out to stretch, but it's enough to transform her anxiety from a level 6 on the richter scale to a solid, nauseating 8. 

there’s signs of paige everywhere: posters with her face all over the walls, her number plastered on the sides of the hallway they have to walk down to get to the arena, and, worst of all, fans milling about, decked out completely in #5 jerseys and paige paraphernalia. several have carefully drawn out posters and clever slogans, clamoring in the stands to get as close as possible in an attempt to gain the one and only paige bueckers’ attention. and azzi can’t even fucking blame them, as pitiful as it is, because she wants paige’s attention on her, too. probably more than any of these fans combined.

a twisted, irrational seed of jealousy takes root in her heart when she thinks about how these fans have gotten to see paige grow and blossom over the last year and a half, how paige had left connecticut and the team and azzi and come here and immediately charmed the hearts of this entire stupid city, not caring what, or rather, who she left behind.

and fuck texas and their stupid cowboy boots and hot weather and their ability to win over really pretty blonde girls and entrap them in their clutches. 

her shots are off during warmups, and it takes everything in her not to turn around and look for a familiar blonde head when they announce the starting lineup and paige’s name is called, but then that effort is entirely futile because paige’s face is suddenly plastered on every single god-forsaken screen in the entire arena as she runs back out through tunnel. and she looks so cool and confident and definitely not like she’s having a tweak-fest about her ex best friend being in such close proximity. and life isn’t fair. 

and azzi loses her breath for a second at how stunningly beautiful paige is. she’s always been gorgeous, even self-proclaimed-straight-azzi had known that, but something about paige in the center of the basketball court, completely in her element, has always made her look more magnetic than usual. 

paige’s eyes flit across the visiting team’s bench for a second, like she’s looking for someone, looking for azzi, and she wants to jump up and wave her arms or do something equally as ridiculous to get her attention, but it turns out she doesn’t need to because then blue eyes find azzi’s without any help, like a magnet, and, wow, azzi had thought that she’d mentally prepared herself for this as much as possible, but she’d been horribly, terribly wrong. 

paige seems almost bashful when her face tilts into a lopsided grin, and azzi’s heart is doing this weird little flipping thing inside of her chest, which, it's never done that before, or maybe it had and she’d just never noticed because she’s an idiot, but regardless, azzi grins back, eyes probably all squinty and everything, and she really hopes no one is paying attention to them right now because she knows she looks absolutely sick in the head. 

she feels bolder than usual all of a sudden, adrenaline coursing through her and the high of having paige’s attention on her after all these months must be messing with her brain to mouth filter, because then she’s mouthing “you ready to lose?” to the blonde girl across the arena. 

paige’s smile drops in exaggerated offense and she’s getting nudged by her teammates to pay attention to something else but she smirks lazily, and flips azzi off before her attention is dragged into their huddle. 

and azzi feels woozy- like a fucking cartoon character with little birds circling her head. lord give her strength. paige flips her off and suddenly she’s acting like the blonde girl came over and proposed or something. this whole thing is so. stupid.

the anthem and pre-game huddle is a blur of nerves and trying not to get caught staring at the back of paige’s head. and then it’s tip off, and blessedly, graciously, they’re not guarding each other, and azzi tries valiantly to focus on the ball and her teammates’ positioning and not on the blonde in her peripheral vision. 

she’s off balance though, only making one of her first four shots, and she knows exactly why that is and it's so frustrating because paige already has seven points and seems entirely unaffected. 

and then, six minutes into the game, paige knocks the ball away from kiki in a breakaway, and azzi is the only one who has a chance at stopping her from a simple, uncontested layup. they run up the court together, paige just out of azzi’s reach until they get to the paint. and azzi knows exactly the move paige is going to pull, could draw it up in her sleep, and the only real way to stop it is to throw her hip out and jump up at the exact second she knows paige will release the ball and pray that her hand makes contact with rubber and not skin.

and she does knock the ball away, fuck you, paige blockers, but her hip also makes contact with paige’s side and she goes sprawling, sliding across the linoleum. azzi has a split second of panic that she’s actually hurt paige, but paige is grinning up at her, the drama queen, and azzi groans when she hears the familiar whistle of a foul call somewhere behind her. 

azzi’s hand grips paige’s to pull her up, other hand going out to steady her hip, and the first real skin on skin contact in a year shocks her to her core. her fingers are tingling, and how on earth was she able to ignore the feeling that arises in her whenever paige is close to her for so long because it feels like the world has stopped spinning on its axis for a second. 

nothing had ever been able to pry azzi’s attention away from basketball before, except for paige, (which. add that to the list of things that probably should have clued her in years ago) and it’s even worse now that azzi understands why that was the case. 

and they are in the middle of a basketball court on live television with thousands of people watching their every move and azzi is still gripping paige’s hand. and someone needs to put her in a psychiatric hospital or something. 

she regrettably pulls her fingers away from the taller girl’s grasp and immediately misses the contact. 

“you playin’ dirty cause you don’t think you can win?” paige taunts, but she’s grinning at azzi like she knows it was an accident, and her face is flushed from the first few minutes of running and she looks positively edible and. how azzi thought of herself as immune to paige’s charm for so long is well beyond her now because she wants to do. a lot of things, actually, but she needs to focus on basketball right now. because again. middle of the basketball court.  

“shut up, cheater. you’re the one flopping around trying to get a call,” is her very mature and reasonable retort.

and oh. azzi realizes again, in real time, what everyone was talking about when they used to say that her and paige were constantly flirting. because her hand is still on the taller girl's hip (just to steady her. yeah right.) and paige is smirking down at her and azzi is teasing her and- oh my god she’s been so stupid. 

the familiar spark of competition (and probably some other things. like attraction. whatever.) lights up between them like no time has passed since they were staying late after practices and running shooting drills just the two of them, and azzi feels herself settle for the first time since she caught sight of paige warming up. 

she’d been worried that she’d be too distracted by paige’s presence to play well, but the feeling of blue eyes on the back of her neck whenever she has the ball, and even when she doesn’t, fuels her like nothing else. 

by halftime, she has 19 points. 

and when the mystics finally edge out an unexpected, much needed win, there’s a 34 next to azzi’s name in the box score. she only misses two shots after her exchange with paige in the first quarter. 

and it's merely an out of conference win, but it's a close one because paige had played well too, and she can feel the satisfaction of a well-fought game settling in her bones, and the added bonus of beating paige, specifically, is making her feel like she's on cloud nine.

they keep their post game hug short and cordial (or. as cordial as a paige burying her face in azzi’s neck and azzi gripping her shoulders as tight as possible can be) (azzi might be delusional but she swears the crowd gets louder when they hug)

she kind of never wants it to end, and misses her instantly when paige pulls away, but then paige stays close when they separate, and looks nothing but proud when she congratulates azzi, asking “you tryna outdo my rookie of the year performance?” 

azzi is grateful for the flush on her cheeks from the game, so it masks how hot her blood gets at the question. “maybe, we’ll see,” is the only thing she can come up with in response, and it sounds coy even to her own ears. 

“i know we will” is paige’s fond response, and there’s cameras surrounding them and azzi’s not stupid enough to bring up their post-game plans right now but she wants to so she just hums and stands there, probably looking like a fucking adoring idiot. 

paige smiles, big this time, despite their loss, and tugs azzi back into a much briefer hug. it’s friendly for the cameras, and quick, but paige manages to tuck an “i'll text you” into azzi's shoulder before she’s pulling away and leaving azzi to watch helplessly after her as she’s immediately swarmed by teammates and media. 

and winning the game was fun and great and awesome or whatever, but the mile-wide smile on azzi’s face has a lot more to do with residual tingling of paige’s hugs than anything else. she is so stupendously screwed. 

…

the press conference goes by torturously slow because azzi doesn’t have time to check her phone beforehand, but they only ask her one question about paige so she counts it as another win.

(they ask azzi if this victory is sweeter because paige is on the other team and azzi answers with a really eloquent “yes,” and doesn’t elaborate when asked. her teammates nearly wet themselves with laughter)

azzi almost falls out of her chair in her attempt to get up as fast as possible when they’re released from press, and it takes everything in her not to sprint back to the locker room to check her phone. aaliyah doesn’t even try to hide her laughter.  

three texts from paige from 10 minutes prior are waiting for her when she finally gets back to her locker. 

paige: about to hop in shower

paige: wanna j do something straight from here

paige: or we can do something later if u wanna go back to hotel first idc  

the three separate texts means that paige is nervous, and some satisfaction settles in azzi’s stomach, but it’s overshadowed by the fact that she’s left the decision making to azzi. 

she debates it for two seconds before deciding she might run into oncoming traffic or something equally as gruesome if left to her own thoughts for more than 5 minutes. she hearts the second text.

azzi: if u wait for me to shower i can be ready in 20

and then she’s only 20 minutes away from being one-on-one with paige for the first time in a year. her shower goes by in a haze and she hopes she remembered to like. use body wash but she can’t really recall because her mind is an abyss of nausea and stress and the little glimmer of hope that she keeps trying to make shut up. 

paige’s ‘kk call me when ur ready and ill tell u where to go’ is waiting for her when she gets out, and she curses herself for only packing a pair of old sweats and a tank top. whatever. it’s not like she needs to impress paige anyway- she’d seen her in every state of dress from black tie evening gowns to pajamas- but still. she’s stressed. 

and then she’s slipping out of the locker room (she’s not doing anything wrong, but she still feels a little bit like she’s sneaking around, trying to avoid questions on where she’s going from her teammates), and calling paige, and letting her voice guide through a hallway and out a couple doors and into the parking lot. 

she hangs up when she sees paige’s recognizable grey jeep ahead of her, and something settles in her stomach at the familiar sight. she’d been in the passenger seat of this car a million and one times. 

but then she’s opening the door and, wow, she feels the furthest thing from settled because there is paige, sitting in the driver's seat and looking clean and nervous and adorably small in an oversized hoodie and shorts. her hair is down and still damp, and she’s wearing glasses, and her hands are fidgeting with her phone in her lap, partially covered by the cuffs of her sweatshirt, and azzi feels something crack in her chest. because how had she not realized that this was exactly what she’d wanted all along?

“hi” paige greets her, voice small and a little shy. 

azzi’s answering “hey, loser” sounds just as bashful and wow, what have they become? 

but then azzi climbs into the passenger seat as paige groans and says “i knew that would be the first thing you’d bring up” and they fall into the ease of bickering about the game and the music paige is playing, and as they pull out of the garage and into the bright afternoon dallas sun, azzi relaxes a bit into her seat. 

they decide to drop their stuff off at paige’s apartment before potentially heading out to find some dinner, and it’s weird- how normal it feels, even though they haven’t done this in forever. azzi still has an undercurrent of panic coursing through her, and she knows she’s looking at paige a little weirdly because the blonde keeps glancing at her funny, like she’s trying to figure something out and can’t quite place what’s changed, but despite that, they fall right back into the simplicity and comfort that each others company has always held. 

until paige decides to ruin the ease of their conversation by glancing across the car at a red light and asking “you gonna tell me why you’re looking at me funny?” 

azzi squirms. debates jumping out, ladybird style. decides against it only because the risk/reward ratio is particularly low. she could deny it, call paige crazy, but that seems useless when she plans on bringing it up when they get inside in 10 minutes anyways. she was planning on waiting until after dinner, but the thrill of having paige within arms reach is making her antsy and she knows she won’t be able to wait that long. 

“no,” she replies. at paige’s sideways glare, she relents, “when we get inside.” 

paige hums, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel, and the relaxed environment turns tense in seconds. the remainder of the drive is silent, and it's not awkward, necessarily, but anticipatory, tension clogging azzi’s lungs. 

she fiddles with the ac vents and tries to stop herself from thinking at all. she fails, obviously, and her mind is a mess of paige and random moments from their time at uconn and, the girl in the back of the phone call, and. somehow her hands are shaking. perfect.

she is somehow both thankful and miserable they’re almost there.

they finally pull into paige’s complex, and the mostly silent walk through the garage and elevator ride only further serves to heighten her anxiety. and then paige is pulling out her keys and opening the door and. 

they barely get inside before azzi is rounding on her, dropping her bag on the floor and backing up to lean against the opposing wall. she’d planned this part out in her mind a hundred times, dissecting all the possible pros and cons of asking in different ways, figuring out how to slowly work up to the question that’s been eating her alive since the the all star break, but one look at paige’s confused face and the adrenaline that's been coursing through her veins throughout the whole car ride has her sidestepping logic and reason entirely and blurting out a strangled “were we in love?” 

she’s pretty confident she knows the answer, but the ensuing silence is agonizing anyway. 

azzi can see the second paige processes her question, her face dropping in utter disbelief, and something like heartbreak splinters in her eyes at azzi’s words. paige’s arms go limp at her sides, her keys slipping to the ground beside her, and the jangle of metal against the hardwood floor is deafening in the silence of her entryway. 

“azzi,” paige chokes on her name, like it causes her physical pain. she looks shell-shocked, like she can’t breathe, and azzi can’t breathe either, but she needs to know anyway.

“were we in love, paige? were you in love with me?” she asks again, more desperate this time, the words ripping out of her chest almost without her permission. she feels out of control. between the two of them, paige was always the one to push things too far, press and press until azzi was forced to answer her questions or shut down, and the whip-lash of that role reversal is clear on the older girl’s face. 

still, paige is silent, gaping at her in shock. 

just as azzi opens her mouth to ask a third time, paige closes the gap between them with two steps and seals their mouths together in a desperate, searing kiss. 

azzi’s hands fly to paige's chest immediately, and the blonde’s hands find their place on the sides of her face, cupping her cheeks. azzi opens for her in seconds, and paige makes a wretched, helpless sound in the back of her throat as their tongues meet. she drags one hand down to azzi’s waist and pulls her closer, fingering the gap between her sweats and tank top, and azzi’s hands grip her shirt in return, needing her as close as possible. 

and wow. okay. if there was any lingering doubt in azzi’s mind about whether or not she was into women, into paige, it evaporates into thin air, heat pooling immediately in her stomach. 

and also. paige probably doesn’t have a girlfriend if she’s kissing azzi senseless in her foyer. the relief of that makes her needy, desperate. 

she feels wild with it, with the sudden release of this desire for paige that's been hibernating just under her skin for years, and as paige presses her back into the wall, all azzi can think to do is tug her as close as possible. her hands move again, this time sliding up to the back of paige’s neck, everywhere they can reach, and when they separate from each other for a second to breathe, foreheads pressed together, azzi’s eyes flutter open to probably the prettiest version of paige she’s ever seen. 

she looks absolutely ruined, cheeks flushed and mouth swollen, and azzi feels drunk on the look in her eyes, gazing at her like azzi is the sun and the moon and the whole fucking solar system too. and she’s struck with the thought that they probably could have been doing this for years, probably should have been doing this for years. 

“did you- azzi- did you not know?” is the first thing paige gets out, voice sounding wrecked with emotion and something else, and if azzi had a nickel for every time someone had seemed incredulous that she hadn’t known about paige and her being in love, she’d have five fucking nickels. five nickels to place on the shelf next to her #1 stupidest person on earth trophy. 

azzi can’t help but sound indignant when she sputters out “well no one told me!”

paige just looks at her for a second, like she’s trying to cement this as real, and then she smiles, small and beautiful and just for azzi.

“you’re stupid” is her only retort. and, well. yeah. 

and she looks like she’s about to cry but in a good way azzi thinks, and then azzi can’t see her face anymore because they’re kissing again. she makes a sound in the back of her throat that she will not be recounting when paige slips a hand underneath her tank top, pressing her fingers to her ribs, and jesus, they’ve been making out for maybe a total of two minutes max and she already feels like she’s going to melt into a puddle on the floor. 

paige kisses her like she means it, like she’s starving for it, and azzi didn’t know it until right now but it's exactly the way she likes to be kissed. 

paige wedges a leg between azzi’s, somehow pressing closer, and this is really nice and azzi really doesn’t want to stop but also. they need to actually discuss this before she lets paige do something stupid like finger her in the hallway or drag her off to her bedroom. she might be jumping the gun but also. one of paige’s hands is sliding underneath the waistband of her sweats to caress the smooth skin of her hip, teasing. and, and. she really needs to stop this before her fingers dip any lower because she knows any coherent thought she has will crumble into nothingness. 

she tugs her mouth away for a second, and murmurs out a breathless “paige” in between kisses. she receives a contented grunt in response. 

“paige-” she tries again, except the older girl simply hums and moves lower, pressing open-mouthed kissed down her neck instead. azzi’s brain goes blank for a second, nothing but thoughts of paige’s mouth on her neck and her hands on her waist. but. 

they do need to talk about this. regretfully. 

“paige, we need to- to talk about this,” she stutters out, and when paige still seems undeterred, having moved down to attempt to suck a mark into azzi’s collarbone, she adds, “before we have sex.”

she tries to look away, so she doesn’t have to see the smug grin that she knows will spread across paige’s face at her words, but a consequence of furiously making out with the blonde is that their faces are still inches apart, so she still sees the sly smirk on paige’s stupid, self-satisfied face. 

“who said anything about sex, hmm?” she crows, and azzi blushes, and then looks down pointedly at paige’s hand that is currently slipping under the waistband of her sweats.

“oh i’m sorry, was that not on your agenda?” she asks, teasing, and pushes herself out from underneath paige, walking down the hallway towards the living room, smiling to herself at the immediate feeling of paige’s hands back on her hips, grasping at her to keep her close. 

“no, no, azzi, c’mon, i’m jus’ playing, come back here,” and she actually sounds a little bit worried, as if azzi will somehow change her mind or something ridiculous. 

she spins back to face paige when she gets to the couch, and laughs at the look on her face, hopeful and kind of like a puppy dog. it's definitely a diversion tactic and it almost works, she almost says fuck it and drags paige further into the apartment in search of the bedroom, but she stays strong.

“talk first, and then you can give me a very thorough tour of the rest of your apartment,” she assures, and paige relents, but not before pressing a short, close-mouthed kiss to azzi’s lips, as if sealing the deal.  

“‘kay. i’m holding you to that,” she adds, but she looks unsure of herself, and then they’re just standing there like idiots in the evening light of paige’s apartment, looking at each other. 

azzi decides she wants to be sitting for this, so she kicks off her slides and drops onto the couch behind her. 

for a second, paige looks like she doesn’t know what to do or where to sit, and she’s never been unsure of invading azzi’s personal space before, so azzi just rolls her eyes and tugs her down onto the couch next to her. paige flops down, sprawled out next to azzi, and they settle into the cushions, azzi curled underneath paige’s arm, facing her, legs crossed and socked feet tucking under paige’s thigh. 

paige is quiet, waiting for azzi to formulate how she wants to start this, and she’s grateful for the silence as she mentally grapples with how to open this particular can of worms. 

she settles on “can you tell me what happened the night of the championship?” 

might as well start out with the big guns.

paige inhales sharply, and she looks like she really doesn’t want to recount that night, so azzi gently takes one of her hands in her own and tangles their fingers. 

“you don’t remember?” she mumbles, and her voice sounds so small, not at all like the confident paige that had just been giving azzi shit and kissing the living daylights out of her. 

“no, only. only that we kissed, but even that’s hazy. and i had a mark,” she reaches up with paige's hand still tangled in hers and presses at her collarbone, “right here.”

“yeah.” paige’s voice breaks on the acknowledgement, and she looks like she’s gonna cry at the reminder, eyes watery where they gaze at the spot that her fingers are pressing into. azzi’s heart squeezes in her chest. she looks a little relieved, though, that azzi can’t recall what happened. 

“if i’d known you were that drunk i wouldn’t have…” she trails off, voice shaky, and azzi cuts in. 

“you were drunk too paige, s’not your fault.” 

paige hums. when azzi squeezes her fingers, she continues. “it was such a good night until then. we were so drunk, and you were so happy, and you were clinging onto me like it-” her voice breaks, and azzi leans further into her side to try and comfort her. they’re both already crying a little bit, and her heart squeezes, again, but she needs to hear this before they go any further. 

“like it meant something. something more than usual. and then you wanted to go upstairs and i kept thinking finally. and. and i kissed you when we got to my room and you seemed so into it. and then i said-” she cuts off again, and azzi feels dread pool in her gut. she isn’t sure she actually wants to hear this story but she can’t stop listening. 

“i told you i was in love with you, like an idiot, and you-” she inhales, through her tears, like she’s steeling herself, and azzi squeezes her eyes shut in preparation, gripping paige’s hand tighter. 

“you asked me why i had to ruin it, why we couldn’t just kiss without it meaning anything.” 

azzi makes a wounded sound, curling closer, and paige is sobbing now, and this is so, so much worse than she’d thought. 

“paige.” is the only thing she can get out as comfort, and now she's sobbing too. god she’d been so, so stupid.  “i didn’t know.” she shifts, and then climbs all the way into paige’s lap, trying to ease the hurt that her unconscious drunk mind had caused and pressing a messy kiss to her hairline. she tries to get as close as possible as a reminder that they're here now, not in a shitty hotel room in tampa.

god. no wonder paige had distanced herself. azzi doesn’t even know what she’d have done. probably run straight out of that hotel and thrown herself off a cliff

paige isn’t done, though, and azzi briefly wonders how it could possibly get worse, before regretting her curiosity instantly. 

“and then you got mad when i wouldn’t. wouldn’t just keep going. and i asked if we could jus’ talk about it in the morning and you promised that we would.” paige presses the words into azzi shoulder, bring her arms up to wrap around the younger girl’s back. her tank top is wet from paige’s tears and. this whole thing has azzi sick to her stomach. 

she presses a sob into paige’s hair, and she knows the next part but she lets her finish anyway. 

“and then you didn’t say anything the next morning and i didn’t know if you didn’t remember or if you just didn’t want to talk about it, but either way i just. couldn’t do it anymore.” her voice is shot, and she’s still crying, but she looks relieved to have finished. 

azzi lets the silence sit for a minute before responding. “i thought you regretted kissing me. or whatever happened, i couldn’t remember. and then you just. stopped, like, wanting to be friends, and i thought you’d decided you didn’t need me anymore,” azzi releases through tears, and her heart breaks for both of them at the stupidity of the last year. 

a “no!” rips from paige’s chest, insulted, and she laughs humorlessly. “az, i’ll always need you. for god sake, i pretty much just moped for the entire year plus. arike banned your name ‘cause she got tired of listening to me whine about how much i missed you.” she looks up at azzi through her eyelashes, tears clumped together, and she looks so beautiful, despite them, that azzi’s heart breaks all over again. 

“if it makes you feel better, i missed you just as bad, except i wouldn’t talk to anyone about it. the whole team knew not to bring you up around me cause i would just shut down.” 

she knocks their foreheads together, gently,  in affection before continuing, “one of the freshmen got your old room and i wouldn’t go anywhere near it.” 

paige smiles, brokenly, at that. “bet she didn’t decorate it as well as me.” 

it's not really funny, but azzi lets out a watery giggle anyways, pressing it into the curve of paige’s brow. “she probably didn’t have a blanket over the blinds though.” 

paige hums in agreement, and motions for azzi to continue before starting to trace lines on azzi’s back. 

azzi takes a deep breath before speaking. “over the break we went to dinner, me ‘n lili and a couple others. and somehow like dating and stuff got brought up and she asked me if i’d ever been in love. and i said no.” 

paige tenses under her, but azzi squeezes their hands that are still tangled together and waits until she relaxes again to continue. 

“and none of them believed me. they all thought we’d been dating in secret or whatever. and i couldn’t believe it but then i started thinking about it and. and then i got home and called my mom, and asked her if i’d been in love with you,” she pauses for a second, trying to get her words straight. paige’s hand on her back falters for a second, before continuing, slow and steady, and it grounds her. 

“and she said if i was asking her than i already knew.” 

paige laughs a little bit, commenting “‘course she did.” 

“i know,” she agrees, “and then. well. i got really drunk and somehow thought it was a good idea to call you.” 

paige smiles, a little crookedly. “wasn’t your worst idea, though.” 

azzi hums in agreement. “no, it wasn’t”

paige opens her mouth to say something and then stops, reconsidering. 

azzi narrows her eyes. “what,” she prods, needing to know everything. 

paige hesitates again before continuing. “i thought god was punishing me when i saw who was calling. i’d just made the first step in so long to try and get over you, finally relented to all my teammates telling me to get laid for the first time in over a year and. here you were calling me for the first time in forever like you knew i’d just spent half an hour pretending the girl on top of me was you.” she shakes her head, laughing a little. “i left as soon as i hung up. cried all the way home.” 

and azzi knows it’s fucked up, but satisfaction settels in her bones at the knowledge that paige hadn’t been sleeping her way through texas in azzi’s absence like she’d thought, even if the reminder of the girl on the phone kills her a little.

“i wanted to die when i heard her voice. almost hung up you,” she gets out, and paige presses a kiss to her shoulder in response. 

“baby, i haven’t wanted anyone but you since i was like, sixteen.” 

the word baby echoes inside azzi’s head and she smiles, ducking her head. 

“maybe if you’d ever told me that-”

“-i did tell you-” paige protests, but azzi’s having none of it.

“sober- if you’d told me sober i probably would’ve figured out i was in love you a lot quicker.” 

paige huffs. “azzi, the entire world knew i was in love with you. obviously i thought you knew, too, ” and then, when azzi’s words sink in a bit more, and she adds, a little in awe, “you’re in love with me? like, forreal?”

azzi doesn’t bother correcting her verb tense. it might seem stupid to already be saying i love you when they haven’t actually had a conversation in a year, but she knows with more certainty than anything ever that this is a past and a present and a future kind of thing. 

“obviously.” is her only response, gesturing to where she’s sitting on paige’s lap, their fingers still curled together. 

and paige’s smile is positively blinding as she leans up to press their mouths together, murmuring “s’ fire.” 

honestly. you’d think she’d be a little more romantic. 

and their faces are both damp from tears, but it doesn’t matter because paige is kissing her like her laugh is the best thing she’s ever tasted, and maybe it is.  

and paige flips them somehow (azzi isn’t really paying attention to the logistics, too focused on the patch of skin she finds below paige’s ear that makes her keen) and they end up pressed into the couch, paige laying on top of her. 

azzi finds paige’s mouth again, fingers tangling in her hair, and paige presses their hips together, swallowing the brunettes' moan at the contact. 

and then paige pulls back above her and grins. 

“so can we have sex now,” she questions, and azzi rolls her eyes, shoving at her shoulder.

“way to be a romantic, p,” she responds, but it just sounds fond instead of annoyed. 

“excuse you, i am such a romantic,” she retorts, and at azzi’s unimpressed look, she tries again.  “azzi jazlyn, i am very much in love with you, can i please make sweet, sweet love to you?” 

azzi groans, but it’s kind of a futile attempt to seem like she’s not utterly charmed, because she lets paige tug her up off the couch anyways. 

and there are still residual tear tracks on their faces, and more conversations to be had, but as she chases paige down the hallway to her bedroom, laughter flowing freely from them both, she figures they can figure that out later. right now, this is enough. 

AN: ummmm thank you for reading? pleaseeee comment/send me asks it literally makes my whole entire day and I need all the love I can get over the next week of hell (finals). i know i said i was writing smut and i ammmm it just is taking me. a while. so i cut it off here. but maybe keep your eye out for more of these two being freaky? idk. also if you wanna like see any more from them pls let me know what that would be! i have a couple ideas for a paige pov but it would be really angsty. and also a few about like their friends and fam finding out and being like THANK FUCK. took u long enough. idk. again, only time will tell but I can confirm that comments and asks do wonders for my creativity soooo. please do that! ok bye now <3

[pazziiiiiiii]

Hey guys, this is more of a filler chapter to describe what changed after she admitted what her dad told her. Thanks for the feedback so please keep sending it through and ideas for the next part pleaseee!! Next one coming very soon if you guys give me more ideas…

Part 4

It wasn’t like they talked about it.

What Paige had said that night at the court—about her dad, about Azzi—it wasn’t brought up again. Not even in passing. It settled into the space between them like dust in sunlight. Quiet. Unspoken. Still.

And if Paige had hoped telling Azzi would change something, maybe she didn’t realize how much of her didn’t actually want it to. She couldn’t afford it. Couldn’t even let herself want to want it.

She still hadn’t gone back to the guest room, though.

Her bag had stayed in Azzi’s room. Her clothes in the closet. Her shoes lined up by the door. The bed they shared—two pillows, one blanket, space between them that felt like a line she dared not cross.

But even in Azzi’s room, Paige felt far away.

She’d smile at the right times. Laugh, sometimes. She’d go through the motions. Lay there at night, stare at the ceiling, and listen to Azzi breathe like she was measuring her own steadiness against it.

But she wasn’t there. Not really.

Azzi noticed.

Paige could tell by the way Azzi would glance at her during long silences. Or how she’d watch her with a question that never made it past her lips. She’d try to draw her in with little things—“Wanna make pancakes?” or “Wanna shoot around later?”—but Paige always found ways to say yes and still hold herself back.

Azzi didn’t press. Not in the way she could’ve. Not in the way Paige might’ve wanted her to.

Instead, she started talking around it.

“Do you ever feel like… people just expect you to always be okay?” Azzi asked one night, their room lit by the faint blue of her laptop screen. “Like, if you’re not okay, it’s like… disappointing or something.”

Paige didn’t look up from her phone. “Yeah.”

Azzi waited.

But Paige didn’t add anything.

And when she finally glanced over, Azzi had turned back to her screen, earbuds in, lips pressed tight in that way she always did when she was pretending something didn’t sting.

⸻

A few weeks passed.

Long, slow days. Azzi’s family kept their bubble tight—home, court, backyard, repeat. Paige got used to it. Used to the rhythm. The quiet hum of Katie moving through the house, the smell of fresh coffee in the mornings, the way Azzi’s younger siblings knocked before barging in anyway.

It all felt normal.

Too normal.

Like she had almost convinced herself everything was fine.

Because on the outside, it kind of was.

She and Azzi were still best friends. They still did TikToks. Still played HORSE. Still stole food from each other’s plates at lunch. Still sat shoulder to shoulder during dumb Netflix movies, Paige tucking her knees into her chest like she was cold when she just didn’t know where to put her body.

But it was there. In the pauses. In the things they didn’t say.

In the way Paige flinched when their hands brushed and Azzi didn’t react at all.

⸻

The first time Paige saw the text, she froze.

Devon 🙋🏾‍♂️:

“Azzi I know your gonna be cute for me”

“pick u up at 7”

She hadn’t meant to see it. She was looking for the charger they always passed back and forth, and Azzi’s phone had lit up beside her.

Paige didn’t ask. Azzi didn’t offer.

But a few hours later, she came downstairs in jeans that actually fit and a hoodie Paige didn’t recognize. Her curls were a little more defined than usual, lips glossy.

“Where you going?” Paige asked, too casually.

Azzi glanced up from tying her shoes. “Just out for a bit.”

“Out?”

“Dinner.”

“With who?”

Azzi looked at her, and something flickered in her eyes before she shrugged. “Just a friend.”

“Right.” Paige nodded once. “Cool.”

She turned and walked away before she could give anything else away.

⸻

The clock on Paige’s phone glowed 8:47 when she went back into Azzi’s room. She lay on her side of the bed, alone, fully dressed, blanket untouched. The silence felt louder than anything.

She stared at the ceiling. Tried not to imagine who Azzi was with, what she was saying, what it looked like when she laughed at his jokes.

She bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to draw blood.

And somewhere beneath it all, shame started to bloom like rot.

Of course Azzi was out with a guy. Of course she’d say yes when someone like him asked. Why wouldn’t she?

She was normal.

And Paige?

Paige was a mess. A secret. Something shameful even to herself.

She pressed her palms into her eyes until the pressure made her see stars. It wasn’t even about the boy. Not really.

It was about knowing that Azzi didn’t see her that way.

And worse—about knowing that it was wrong to want her to.

She thought about her dad. The way his face had twisted when he yelled. The disgust in his voice. Why don’t you just go live with her and ask her to be your girlfriend…

Like just thinking about it was enough to be condemned.

She curled in on herself.

Maybe he was right.

⸻

Azzi didn’t talk about the dinner when she got back. Paige pretended to be asleep, back turned, breath even. She felt the bed dip when Azzi got in, heard the rustle of fabric, the quiet hum of her sigh.

She wanted to turn around. Ask. Was he nice? Did you have fun? Do you like him?

But she didn’t.

Because she didn’t want the answers.

⸻

They stayed like that for days.

Azzi never brought the boy up. Paige never asked.

But she noticed the subtle shifts—how Azzi smiled at her phone more. How she wore the same hoodie again a few days later. How she didn’t stay as close during movie nights anymore.

Maybe it didn’t mean anything.

But it felt like everything.

⸻

They were out on the court one afternoon, just shooting around. Azzi looked lighter than she had in days, her laugh bright as she nailed three in a row from the corner.

“You’re off today,” she teased, passing the ball back.

Paige forced a smile. “Guess I’m just tired.”

Azzi tilted her head. “You’ve been tired for a while.”

Paige caught the ball. Let it sit in her hands.

“I’m fine.”

Azzi watched her. “You always say that.”

Paige didn’t look up. “Because it’s true.”

“It’s not.”

Paige took a shot. Missed. The ball bounced long and she jogged to retrieve it.

When she came back, Azzi was sitting on the edge of the court, arms around her knees, watching the sky.

“Do you want me to stop asking?” Azzi said quietly.

Paige blinked. “What?”

“Because I will. If you want me to.”

Paige sat down next to her, the concrete warm against her thighs.

“I don’t want you to stop,” she said finally.

Azzi turned her head slightly. “Then what do you want?”

The question sat heavy in the air.

Paige stared at the court. “I don’t know.”

Azzi didn’t say anything. She didn’t reach out. Didn’t scoot closer. She just nodded like she understood and let the silence settle again.

Paige wanted to thank her.

And scream.

And cry.

She did none of those things.

⸻

The next night, Katie made pasta. The house smelled like garlic and roasted tomatoes. Azzi was on FaceTime in the other room, laughing about something, her voice soft and fond. Paige stirred the sauce even though it was already done.

She didn’t ask who was on the other end of the call.

She didn’t want to know.

That night, Paige turned away from Azzi in bed again.

Azzi didn’t move closer.

⸻

The thing was… they still were best friends. That hadn’t changed. Not on the surface.

But every laugh felt a little shorter now. Every touch a little less certain. Every moment just a little too carefully navigated.

Paige felt like she was walking on a tightrope above something she couldn’t name. And every time she thought about Azzi—her laugh, her eyes, her kindness—something twisted deep in her gut.

It wasn’t just the fear.

It was the shame.

The knowledge that what she felt might ruin everything.

That maybe it already had.

⸻

On the second Friday of the month, they went for a walk. Just the two of them. No phones. No plan. Just wind and sky and space.

Azzi talked about her brothers. About how they were driving her insane. About how she missed AAU. About the show she started watching without Paige.

Paige listened. Nodded. Laughed at the right times.

But she felt like she was watching it all happen through a window she couldn’t open.

⸻

That night, Azzi finally said it.

Not everything. Just enough to make Paige freeze.

“You haven’t hugged me in weeks.”

They were sitting on the floor folding laundry, socks and shirts in scattered piles around them.

Paige looked up, startled.

Azzi wasn’t mad. Her voice was soft. But her eyes were serious.

“I didn’t notice,” Paige lied.

“I think you did.”

Silence stretched again.

“I just…” Paige started, then stopped. “I’ve just been in my head a lot.”

Azzi nodded slowly.

“I don’t want to push you,” she said. “But it’s weird, not having you with me. Even when you’re right here.”

Paige folded a shirt with shaking hands.

“I know, I’m trying really hard,” she whispered.

“I know. But you have to let me in at some point.”

Paige only nodded.

They finished folding the laundry without another word.

⸻

That night, when they got in bed, Paige lay stiff as ever. But this time, she said something, eyes locked on the ceiling.

“I’m sorry Azzi, I really am,” she said, voice quiet.

Her throat burned.

“I know P. I know. I’m always gonna be here. Goodnight.”

“Night.”

Paige didn’t sleep for hours that night. Too caught up in her own thoughts. Like she had been for the past weeks.

[moon-creates]

Touchstarved Updated Demo Review

(Spoilers, obviously. You have been warned!)

I love the new Demo!

Obviously, after a whole year of knowing the old version and loving the characters in it, any changes will take a bit to get used to.

Now that I have given myself 24 hours to digest it properly, I can fully say the new version feels less like a demo and more like a great Introduction to a intriguing story. It almost felt like a "Chapter 1" of a multi-chapter story but I will reserve that title for the real chapter one (once we have chosen which route to follow).

Right off the bat we see that The Hound is no more, replaced by the new backstory "The Exile". But fret not, dear reader! Nobody is forcing you to take your blorbos out the back of your local seven-eleven and shoot them in the back of their heads. Your Hound blorbos shall continue to live on. It seems pretty easy to adapt the Hound MC's to the Exile. And if that is too much of a task, there is an ancient tradition of fan fiction, to scratch the itch that canon cannot scratch for you!

(My personal Opinion: Writing a Main Character that everyone will be happy with is already impossible. Every OC will have a trait (or multiple) that canon just cannot accommodate without alienating other readers. I understand the upset over the change, but I don't think that means its a bad change. I do hope to see more fanart and fanfiction from people, to highlight what exactly makes your MC special.)

Lets move on to the Pacing of the Demo. I really liked that they cut the old demo into two parts, making our MC experience the Intro over the span of two days instead of one. It does give us a pause to breathe and consider our options.

What are our options? Lets talk about the Love Interests!

KURAS

Mr. "So rude to ask about the surgery I performed on you". His introduction isn't much different to Version 1, though I enjoyed the evening route with him! I mean, he bought us food! (Honey Pistacio cookie YUM!) The new background is fucking beautiful and it fit the more calming, quiet vibes that Kuras has. (I cannot wait to see the monstrosities this man has committed.) I wished we actually got to touch his hand with the red option but maybe that would've been too much of a spoiler? It did gave me major Jesus vibes (and, weirdly, I don't mean that in a negative sense). It makes me wonder if he actually could cure us.

LEANDER

Leander got the most changes compared to his V1 counterpart. While he is still the Leander we mock and fear love, he has gotten so much better at manipulating us. All of his new expressions also show why he is so good at what he does - He seems so earnest. I had a hard time distrusting him at some points, even though I knew he wasn't to be trusted. He is so suspicious and I love that the MC can voice their suspicion and be so professionally and elegantly manipulated back into a place of trust and comfort. (Also I would've absolutely ridden that fucker on that bed. RSS why did you clitblock me so much-)

I like that the Adderstones (rip Bloodhounds) seem more like an organized network now rather than a street-fighter gang. Leander being more busy and access to him being restricted also adds to show just how important he is in Lowtown. He always seemed like a threat but now the danger has been dialed up a significant amount and I am SO here for it.

VERE

That blush was very cute! Personally I find Vere to be the hardest to decipher. His personality and what he actually wants from us is harder for me to place with him than with the others. He is playing with us, sure, but I wonder if he himself knows what he wants with us. Maybe I should take Ais word for it and pay more attention to his ears than what he is actually saying. I might understand him better then. But either way, he is a very intriguing character and I hope we get to see him fight in the full game! I also like that the Dev's are fully leaning into him expressing thing with his tail and ears. It's weirdly endearing for such a bloodhungry menace like him.

AIS

I just love this man. I love that the red-eyed woman got a name and much more personality now. She feels like a full character. I am fucking DEVASTATED that we didn't get a Princess sprite and I refuse to believe that she is not important enough for the story to get a sprite of her own. RSS, CHOP CHOP! His was the first 'route' in the demo I played and I just know it will be the first full route that I will play once the full game is released. Not much to say about him because he was already perfect to begin with and I thank RSS daily that we get to bite him [insert praying hands emoji].

MHIN

The changes fit them so well. Talking to themselves is such a fitting thing to do for someone who has no-one to truly talk to. You get more of a sense of their social awkwardness around others. Not in a shy sense but in a sense of struggling to connect with people. I love that we got to hear their inner thoughts about how the soulless body functions, wondering if they could see out of all the eyes and so forth. This time they told us they grew up in Eridia! So I am very curious to see what their story is and how our path with them might look like. Every time they glare at us I just wanna smooch them.

I feel like the Demo fulfilled its purpose fully. It introduced each Love Interest to us, showed us a peak of who they are and what might be in store for us down the line, without telling us too much. We get a feeling for our Setting (Eridia) and I hope MC gets to settle in more over the course of the story. We have great lines, beautiful art, expressive characters and Intriguing stories to follow. The amazing new music tied it all together perfectly.

So in conclusion: Good Update. Almost perfect! However, where is my girl princess, tho?

[larluce]

Merlin arrives with a baby in Camelot AU

(co-writing with @roxineedstosleep)

BASED ON THIS PROMPT >> PREVIOUS PART >> NEXT PART

Chapter 3: Valiant (Part 1)

In Gaius's chambers. Merlin, who has barely slept, drags himself out of bed with dark circles under his eyes, hastily putting on his clothes. His day is just beginning, but he's already exhausted.

Gaius: (Almost at the same pace as Merlin, dressing more slowly and then putting more wood on the fire) Did you get any sleep last night?

Merlin: (Yawning) No. (points to the baby in the crib). Someone thought it was a good idea to have colic and roll a bottle across the table.

Baby: (sleeping peacefully) 😴

Merlin walks over to the table to see his list of things to do for the day. His to-do list is quite long, and the castle bells haven't even rung to welcome the day yet.

Gaius: (Looking up from his book) You can barely stand, my boy.

Merlin: (Yawning, as he prepares the bottle of milk) Uh-huh. But the prince can't seem to dress himself, and my roommate is sick. Do you think you could give her-

Gaius: (Sighs and takes the bottle) I'll do my best to look after her today; colic is common at this age. Go before Arthur gets impatient.

Time skip. At the Training Grounds. Arthur is already waiting with his arms crossed when Merlin arrives with his training gear, having already dressed him.

Arthur: (mockingly) Have you always been this slow?

Merlin: (mimicking his tone) Have you always been this helpless?

Arthur: (seriously) You can't talk to me like that.

Merlin: I'm sorry. (exaggeratedly polite tone) Have you always been helpless, my lord? (gives a small bow)

Arthur: (A smile almost forms on his face at the joke, but it soon returns to his angry expression and he throws a training pad at Merlin's head) Let's begin.

And Arthur uses him as a training dummy all morning.

Despite being overworked, Merlin gets some help from other servants who know how difficult Arthur is to deal with.

Time skip. In the laundry room.

George: (while helping Merlin wash Arthur's clothes) He wants you to quit.

Merlin: (confused) Uh?

George: The prince. He's hoping you'll either get fed up and quit, or make a mistake bad enough to get you sacked. He does the same with all his personal manservants. Although you're the first he's ever been so hard on.

Merlin: (laughs) I don't think he's forgiven me for humiliating him in front of his men. (mockingly) Or should I say his daddy's men?

George: (curious) So why aren't you doing it?

Merlin: What?

George: Quit.

Merlin: (thinking) I'm not going to give him the satisfaction. And I need to buy things for my baby. (shrugging) I just came to visit Gaius. I never planned to stay. But it doesn't hurt to have some money.

Merlin doesn't mention the baby to any of the servants. He never does. But something about the sympathetic look George gives him in response makes him suspect they might already know. And he confirms it when he asks Gwen for help with Arthur's armor.

Time skip. At Gwen's house.

Merlin: (dressed in Arthur's armor)

Gwen: (after showing Merlin how to put on the armor) I guess you know what to do with the helmet?

Merlin: (tired, but smiles at him) Yeah, yeah, that was the only bit I'd figured out.

Gwen: (laughs)

Merlin: (puts on the helmet) How come you're so much better at this than me?

Gwen: I'm the blacksmith's daughter. I know pretty much everything there is to know about armour, which is actually kind of sad.

Merlin: (impressed) No, it's brilliant! I would love for my girl— (cuts himself off, eyes widening in panic) I mean, if I had a girl, I would love for her to be interested in my interests. Yeah… (takes off his helmet and avoids Gwen's gaze) I'd better get changed now.

Gwen: (helps Merlin out of the armor and says tentatively) And how is Gaius's little patient?

Merlin: (feigning ignorance) Uh?

Gwen: The one I saw yesterday when we met. The baby.

Merlin: Oh, she is. Uhmm… (decides to repeat the lie Gaius told him to say) She's actually the daughter of a patient. Gaius and I are temporarily looking after her while her mother recovers.

Gwen: (not sounding very convinced) I see… (finishes removing Merlin's armor)

Merlin: (realizes) Wait, have you told anyone about her?

Gwen: …

Merlin: Gwen! 😠

Gwen: In my defense, I didn't know you were going to become the prince's manservant.

Merlin: (pacing) That's why everyone's been looking at me strangely. I'm sure you put them in the idea that she's my daughter! 😡

Gwen: (tries to calm him down) Merlin-

Merlin: (screams) She isn't! I wish she was, but she isn't. And even if she was, what do you all care? Huh? Why can't you just mind your own damn business?! 😤

Gwen: …

Gwen: Just out of curiosity, how much sleep did you get today?

Merlin: (sighs) 2 hours. Maybe. (feeling bad) Sorry, I shouldn't have yelled at you.

Gwen: It's okay. (places the disassembled armor in Merlin's arms) We servants may be gossips, but we never give each other away. We know how to keep a secret when it matters, and we protect each other. I just want you to know that.

Merlin: (smiles, grateful) I'll keep that in mind. (leaves)

Time skip. At the training grounds.

Merlin: (struggles to get the vambrace on Arthur's lower arm)

Arthur: (grumpily) You know the tournament starts today?

Merlin: Yes, sire. (Fixes the buckle on the gorget and tries to make conversation) Are you nervous?

Arthur: I don't get nervous.

Merlin: Really? I thought everyone got nervous-

Arthur: (shouting) Will you shut up?!

Merlin: (gets angry, but says nothing, grabs Arthur's cloak, ties it up, and silently hands him his helmet)

Arthur: Aren't you forgetting something?

Merlin: …

Arthur: Merlin! 😡

Merlin: (innocently) You told me to shut up, I'm just obeying your order, sire.

Arthur: My sword! 😤

Merlin: Right away. (goes to the swords and grabs one, but then puts it back and grabs another, and so on)

Arthur: (impatiently) What are you doing?!

Merlin: Choosing your sword, my lord.

Arthur: Just give me that one.

Merlin: (proceeds to draw his sword veeery slowly)

Arthur: (snatches the sword from Merlin and points it at him, threateningly) Don't think I don't know what you're doing.

Merlin: I have no idea what you're talking about.

Arthur: (enraged) I swear-

Merlin: You'd better hurry or you'll be late for your tournament, my lord.

Arthur: (fuming, but holds it together and walks quickly away)

Merlin: (smirks)

Time skip. At the tournament.

Both Arthur and Valiant win their respective matches. Not that Merlin could know, he was too busy catching up on sleep. He managed to get at least an hour of sleep before His Royal Highness nudged Merlin awake with his foot to make Merlin remove his armor.

Valiant: (Exits the arena, stops near Arthur, and bows) May I offer my congratulations on your victories today?

Arthur: (Frowns suspiciously, but nods) Likewise.

Valiant: I hope to see you at the reception this evening. (Leaves with his servant)

Merlin: (Still half asleep, half awake) Creep. It sounded like he was asking you out.

Arthur: (Shocked) Merlin!

Merlin: (Blinks) Oh, sorry. Did I say that out loud?

Arthur: (Sighs) By tomorrow you need to repair my shield, wash my tunic, clean my boots, sharpen my sword, and polish my chainmail.

Merlin: (Incredulous) Are you kidding? There's no way I can-

Arthur: First thing in the morning. (Leaves)

Merlin is left alone, noting how all the extra tasks within his duties for the next day seem to grow to exaggerated levels.

Time skip, in Gaius's Tower.

Merlin enters his room, his arms and legs feeling cramped from everything he's done since Arthur let him leave. Too tired, he casts a simple magic-blocking spell. His eyes glow gold, and as that happens, the baby teddy bear stops floating through the air and lands on the floor with some herbs and flowers.

Gaius: (enters) Good to see you all in one piece (with a caring tone) Tiring day?

Merlin: (with a tic in his eye) Tiring would be an understatement 🙃.

Gaius: I'd say it's always like this, but it's all because of the upcoming celebration.

Merlin: (bitterly) So the prince is such an idiot about the upcoming celebrations? (conjures) Daeft thaet (his eyes flash and the mess the baby's magic caused sorts itself out)

Gaius: (smacks him)

Merlin: Ow!

Gaius: What did I tell you about using magic like that? 😠

Merlin: If I could feel my arms, I would! 😠 I only have enough strength for this. (picks up his baby) How's the sweetest girl in the world? 😊 I hope you were good to Uncle Gaius!

Baby: 🥺 Boooo

Merlin: Oh! 😥 Is it because your teddy bear doesn't dance anymore? I'm so sorry, baby, but you can't do that kind of magic in here. (sniffs the diaper) Uh, looks like you're due for a change. (his eyes glow and a cloth diaper flies to him)

Gaius: If you want her not to use her magic lightly, you should set an example 😒. Especially because tomorrow-

Merlin: (ignores Gaiud while changing the baby's diaper) That's it, baby! 🤗 (picks her up again) Who pooped more solid poop today? You did, you did.

Baby: (happy babbling) 😄

Gaius: (sighs) Merlin, tomorrow-

Merlin: (still cuddling the baby) I know, tomorrow you'll be a good girl too, right, baby? Of course you will-

Gaius: (raises his voice) Merlin, tomorrow I won't be able to have the baby here!

Merlin: (turns to Gaius like a possessed doll) What? 🙂

Gaius: What I'm telling you, tomorrow there will be many injured. And all of them not only come to the medical tents after competing, but they also have to stay here if necessary.

Merlin: But that's terrible! 😣 Where will I and the baby rest? There's barely any room here! …. How am I going to hide the baby?! 😰

Baby: ☹️

Gaius: (seeing the baby getting nervous) Merlin-

Merlin: The servants already know about her, now the other knights will too-

Baby: 🥺

Gaius: Merlin-

Merlin: And they'll throw me out! And we won't be able to stay here-

Baby: 😢

Gaius: MERLIN!

Merlin: (shuts up)

Baby: (burst out crying and a couple of vials break) 😭

Gaius: Don't worry, I already have a plan. We'll take turns looking after the baby, and if anyone asks, we'll say she's the daughter of one of my patients from the citadel, like always. No one will suspect.

Merlin: 🫠 You could've started with that.

Gaius: And you could need some sleep.

Time skip. The next day at the armory.

Merlin: (enters with the baby in a baby sling, muttering) Taking care of a baby with uncontrolled magic while I have to attend to an arrogant prince of a sorcerer-hunting kingdom in a place full of sharp and pointed weapons. Nothing can go wrong with that idea, right? (yawns) I'm so sleepy.

Baby: (looks around curiously)

A hiss is heard.

Merlin: (turns to the sound) Hello? Is anyone there? (Shrugs and bends down to pick up Arthur's armor)

Baby: (close to Valiant's shield, makes graby hands to the drawing of snakes, delighted with the animals) 😃

In reaction to the baby's involuntary magic, the snakes emerge from the shield, hissing loudly.

Merlin: (frightened, screams and instinctively backs away, falling on his back and protecting the baby with his body) Ahhh! What the fuck! 😨 (When he looks back at the shield, the snakes are gone)

Valiant: (who entered a moment ago, draws his sword to threaten Merlin, believing himself exposed)

Merlin: (blinks, confused, and rubs his eyes) I really need to sleep. I'm starting to see things. (gets up)

Valiant: (lets out a sigh of relief and puts his sword away)

Baby: (scared, not by the snakes or the fall, but by Valiant's presence, bursts into tears) 🥺😭.

Merlin: (concerned, takes her out of the sling and rocks her) Oh, sorry, baby. Did I scare you? I'm sorry.

Valiant: You shouldn't be with a baby in here.

Merlin: (puts the baby back in the sling and gathers Arthur's armor, too tired and worried about the still-crying baby to worry about Valiant) Tell that to that idiot I have for master. (Yawns and leaves)

Valiant: …

Time skip. Merlin, still trying to calm the baby's crying, bumps into George in a corridor.

Merlin: (exalted, very quickly) She's the daughter of one of Gaius's patients!

George: (laughs softly) I didn't ask. But yes, I know, you've told everyone. Where are you going?

Merlin: I have to get Arthur ready for-

George: What?! 😨 You're going to attend to him with the baby?! Do you want him to kill you?

Merlin: (whines, stressed) I have no choice. Gaius is busy, and I have no one else to take care of her.

Baby: (cries louder) 😭 (the baby's magic flutters ornaments around)

Merlin: (panicked) No, no, no! Baby, please stop crying, please. (Almost on the verge of tears too)

George: (Pitying him) Let me take care of her. (Takes the baby)

Merlin: (Panics even more, afraid that George will notice the baby's magic, about to throw away Arthur's armor to take her back) No, wait!

George: (Recites a lullaby while rocking the baby; which means he doesn't sing, just says the lyrics in a monotone) Lullay, my liking, my dear son, my sweeting. Lullay, my dear heart, my own dear darling. Lullay, lullay, lullay. 😐

Baby: (Falls asleep as soon as George settles her in his arms) 😴. (And the decorations stop waving)

Merlin: …

Merlin: How did you do that?! 😱

George: (shrugs) I don't know, but I have five little brothers, and my mom always gave them to me when they cried a lot as babies, and when I talked to them, they fell asleep. I guess my voice calmed them.

Merlin: (thinking) I think it actually bored them… (says, very relieved) Thanks a lot, George! Keep her asleep and only wake her up to give her milk, okay? Gaius can tell you where he keeps the milk and when to give it to her. (starts to walk away briskly)

George: (calls out) After the fight, there's a shooting match. The prince almost never attends those, so you can rest.

Merlin: Thanks! (finishes leaving)

Time skip. In Arthur's chambers.

Merlin: (enters)

Arthur: You're late. 😒

Merlin: (tired voice) I know. (abruptly places the armor on the table)

Arthur: (scolding) Be careful with that!

Merlin: It's steel, it won't break. (lifts the chain mail) Raise your arms.

Arthur: You can't talk to me- 😠

Merlin: Your Royal Highness, please do me the honor of raising your arms. 🙄

Arthur: Better. (Raises his arms)

Merlin: (puts Arthur on his armor) Your helmet. (places the helmet on Arthur's arm)

Arthur: (looks at Merlin's work) At least you didn't forget anything this time. Let's go. (leaves)

Merlin: (follows, shuffling)

Time skip. After the match.

Merlin: (asleep in some hidden corner) 😴

Arthur: (finds him) There you are! Lazing around as usual 😡 (kicks him)

Merlin: (more asleep than awake, mutters) Yes, yes, I'll go give the baby some milk.

Arthur: What are you talking about? Get up! (kicks him again)

Merlin: (opens his eyes) Uhm… What happened?

Arthur: Asleep again? I need you to get me my bow and arrow, now!

Merlin: (confused, still stretching) What for?

Arthur: What do you mean, what for? To participate in the shooting competition!

Merlin: B-but… I thought you never-

Arthur: That's the rub. A good servant doesn't think, he obeys. What are you waiting for? Go! (kicks him again)

Merlin: Ow! Alright, alright I'm coming. (gets up reluctantly, thinking) He had to have urge to brag about his aim today of all days. 😓

And it turned out that the boastful prince not only wanted to participate in the shooting competition, but in all the day's activities. And Arthur, to not lose sight of his servant again, doesn't let Merlin leave his side. Merlin's eyelids are heavy, and his thighs are cramping from standing for too long. He's too tired.

Time skip. At the evening reception. All the competing knights (uninjured) are chatting happily.

Merlin: (with dark circles under his red eyes) Anything else you'd like, sire?

Arthur: (now out of his armor, cool as a cucumber) No, I don't think so. I'm already a bit tired. I think I'll have some rest.

Merlin: (his eye ticing) Really? You? Tired, sire?

Arthur: Yes, you may leave.

Merlin: (forces a polite smile) Thank you, my lord. (turns away)

Arthur: Oh, Merlin. I want-

Merlin: (turns to him and explodes, yelling) WHAT?! WHAT ELSE DOES YOUR GREATEST HIGHNESS WANT ME TO DO?! 😡 To undress you and tuck you in for bed?! To feed you in the mouth? To wipe your ass?! 😤

Knights around: (gasp) 😨😨😨😨😨😨

Arthur: (surprised Pikachu face) Uh… 😦

Merlin: For all the gods! Are you really so useless that you can't do anything by yourself? Can't you take care of yourself at all? Don't you have hands? I swear I've seen one-year-old babies and crippled men more self-sufficient than you! Merlin clean this, Merlin fetch that, Merlin hop on one foot and then do a somersault in the air! Leave me alone! I'm exhausted! I want to sleep! 😡(leaves, stomping)

Knights around: …

Arthur: …

Morgana: (holding back a laugh) I like him.

Time skip. In Gaius's Tower.

Merlin: (enters)

Gaius: (carrying the baby) Merlin! How could you leave the baby with- 😠

Merlin: (sharply) Not now. (smiles softly at the baby and kisses her forehead) Good night, baby. (goes to his room)

Gaius: Merlin! 😡

And Merlin falls dead onto his bed, not thinking about the consequences of his outburst… and which he would probably face the next day.

BASED ON THIS PROMPT >> PREVIOUS PART >> NEXT PART

...

UHHH! Merlin really messed up, didn't he? What do you think will happen to him?

Tagging @chaosofbelievers , @blackgigglypuff , @stressed-but-chill , @nocheaseforyougoodsir , @thedragonlies , @evedaser , @lolazoel , @sammythetoaster , @caraspud , @g00pygunkyguy , @bertoliosis35-blog , @purpuraffe , @lordemryspendragon , @herstarlight , @justaz , @myalchemicalgnomace , @haunted-glassesgurl , @exmintha , @dumbdemjin , @a-line-drawn , @itsjustmeandmyanxiety , @beebsnas , @rem-the-moth , @tmarauder101 , @whitemaskcd , @robynnemrys , @genyxie , @trubel43 , @andrealux21

[blueberrybirdsworld]

Collision 2/20

Summary:

Lando always had a type : blonde, models, not ready to settle down. Yet once he met her, all his world is changed and he slowly start to realises maybe he was wrong all this time.

It's a prequel story of The Cat Distribution System, on how Lando Norris fall in love with Ariana. Could be read seperatly.

Pairing : lando norris x original female character

Genre : Fluff, slow burn, enventual smut and angst

Warning : none

Serie Masterlist

CHAPTER 2 : SMAU

@landonorris accidentally became the DJ again

📍London

@pietrapilao: you pressed two buttons and acted like you closed Coachella 💀 @maxfewtrell: never seen a man take credit for autoplay this confidently @carlos55: we left you alone for 5 minutes and this happens @oscarpiastri: how much to make this stop @maxverstappen1: your dj era again?? help. @chaoticgp: every off-season has its villain arc and this one’s giving ✨dj lando✨ @landozoned: this man cannot stay away from a soundboard @mclarenwitch: i just KNOW he said “trust me, I got this” before messing everything up @gridgirliez: lando the club menace is back and we’re not surviving

@arianariverria slow mornings, long rehearsals, quiet evenings 🤍

📍London

@maya.ross: the “main character in a French film” energy is overwhelming @juliettedlcrx: this post just cured my anxiety @claireballetco: i gasped at slide 2. actual sculpture. @balletwithluna: you live in an aesthetic moodboard and i’m just passing through @ellieharperballet: how do you make pink look like a power color @sylviaballet: the definition of stillness in strength @softshoesandsatin: every slide is a different kind of calm

@gridwatchgossip Spotted 👀 #LandoNorris seen behind the DJ booth and chatting closely with a mystery brunette at a London club a few nights ago during winter break. Sources say she wasn’t part of his usual crew, and the two were seen talking more than once throughout the night. No clear photos of the girl — but fans are already buzzing. 👀

@landozoned: NOT ANOTHER DJ ERA LMAOOO @softlandoz: "mystery brunette" is PR-speak for heartbreak incoming @tifosibae: girl if you see this, blink twice for a soft launch @chaoticgp: she better be able to handle his freak @gridtea: lando deep in convo = man is hooked @mclarencurls: plot twist: she’s the reason he didn’t break anything at the DJ booth @numberonechaos: new WAG watch? it's always the winter break

Texts messages :

Group Chat — "🌟 Chaos Trio 🌟"

Pietra: Gentle reminder that you both owe me for putting up with your entire existence last weekend So this Saturday: ballet night. Royal Opera House. We’re going.

Max Fewtrell: wait are we seriously doing this ?

Lando: is this revenge for making you walk through Mayfair with us for 3 hours

Pietra: No. This is me adding culture to your lives because I love one of you and tolerate the other

Max Fewtrell: I’m assuming I’m the one you love but I can’t be completely sure right now

Lando: I’m honored to be tolerated. truly.

Pietra: Dress code is smart. No trainers. No caps.

Max Fewtrell: Define “smart.” Because last time you said that I ended up in a turtleneck at a BBQ

Pietra: Blazer. Nice shirt. Clean shoes. Try not to look like you rolled out of a Twitch stream

Lando: so basically dress like Max but without the part where he’s trying to impress you

Max Fewtrell: rude but not inaccurate

Lando: ok but what if I fall asleep hypothetically

Pietra: Then I will elbow you in the ribs gently. and Max will pretend not to know you

Max Fewtrell: I’m bringing espresso and a respectful attitude also please hold my hand if it gets dramatic

Pietra: obviously it’s Tchaikovsky. we will feel things.

Lando: so we clap when? during? after? I don’t want to be the guy clapping in a tragic death scene

Pietra: clap when everyone else claps don’t start anything, don’t shout "bravo" in random moments

Max Fewtrell: ok but if the intermission has macarons I’ll call it a success

Lando: deal. I’m only coming for the macarons

Pietra: See? We’re growing. 6pm sharp. Don’t be late or I’m giving your ticket to someone cultured.

Taglist : @angelluv16, @httpsxnox, @anunstablefangirl, @chocolatemagazinecupcake, @mayax2o07, @freyathehuntress, @verogonewild

Let me know if you wanted to be added to the taglist !

[wintersoldierwhore]

covet — joel miller

Chapter One — “Just as grumpy as I remembered.”

masterlist

next >

Moving from California back to Texas was… painful. A three hour flight from San Francisco to Austin, sandwiched between a talkative old lady and a guy who couldn’t hold his overpriced water bottle with a steady hand. You sat in the airport in defeat, clutching a warm coffee as you watched the sun rise on the skyline. Your dad had promised to pick you up, even after you insisted it was an unreasonable time of morning and that you’d find your own way back.

You’d spent 18 years of your life in Austin, made friends, had lovers, had parties, had your heart broken, gotten drunk, gotten high, and yet coming back made you feel lost. You’d settled into San Francisco after college, you’d found a small data entry job and clawed your way into a pretty big Accountancy firm. But they were making cuts, and you chose to take the severance pay and come home for the summer, and settle back into Texan life once more.

Your dad had actually asked for help with the company, he said he could use an accountant to keep track of cash flow. With the added benefit of lodging and pay, of course.

”Kiddo!” You heard faintly through your headphones, and looked up to see your dad’s truck waiting in a very clearly marked No Waiting bay.

“Hey, dad,” you threw your suitcases into the back seat and settled in the front. It had the same smell, reminding you of getting rides from your dad to wherever you and your friends decided was the spot of the week. The odd receipt in the cup holder, a few loose tools in the foot well, it hadn’t changed a single bit.

“How has San Fran been?” He asked, you could hear the exhaustion in his voice but you could hear some cheeriness in there too.

“Good, really good.” You answered, which wasn’t a lie, you really enjoyed working and living there. “Just missed home.”

”Well it’s right where you left it.”

”Want any breakfast, kiddo?” The two of you had just dragged your suitcases into the house, and you could feel the walls hugging you warmly, telling you how much they missed you and how big you’ve gotten.

“No thanks, dad. I’m still half asleep.” You laughed, but it came out as more of a sigh. “It must be almost time for you to leave for work, surely?”

Your dad nodded, tipping some of the coffee from the pot he’d made before he left into a mug. “Shame I can’t see my favourite daughter till tonight.”

”Your only daughter.”

”Well,” he joked, “Sarah has been pretty helpful this year with business. But I suppose she just wanted the money.”

You missed Sarah, and you had made a note to see how big she’s gotten since you left seven years ago. You used to babysit her the summer before you left for college, and she was an energetic nine-year-old. She must be sixteen now?!

“How is Sarah?” You asked your dad, abandoning your suitcases and sitting at the kitchen island with him.

“A teenager is what she is, but she’s still same old Sarah.” He smiled, but his face dropped before he opened his mouth again. “Joel ‘n the Mrs are havin’ issues, real bad this time. Think they’re on their way t’ splittin’ up.”

You frowned, barely remembering he had a wife. Growing up, you’d never really see her. No need, he worked with your dad, she didn’t. You remembered Joel faintly, didn’t see him much but when you did, it was always dropping things off to the house or going to his for the evening, and you’d just be out by the pool with Sarah.

But he was a grump. Always had been.

Despite being a long blink away from sleep, you’d woken up a few hours later, showered, and put all your clothes back into your wardrobe and dresser. You’d packed your whole life up, but only your essentials accompanied you on the plane. The rest would be arriving in the next few days. Except your car, air freight promised your car would be back in Austin within a week.

You planned on doing some shopping, to update your room a little, but you were stuck without a car. So you’d just have to wait for your dad.

Your official job for your dad would begin on Monday, and it being Friday afternoon now, gave you the whole weekend to prepare.

You were chopping some tomatoes for your lunch, when you heard a truck pull in. Two doors slam, and keys shoved into the door. You resumed chopping, throwing the prepared vegetables into a pot.

“Hey, kid, what’ya making?”

You didn’t look away from your task as you answered, “makin’ soup for lunch, want some?”

”Joel, she left for a degree an’ came back knowing how t’ cook!” He yelped, patting your back as he threw some folders onto the island.

Hearing his name, and what your dad said about him this morning, you halted lunch for now. You turned to see the grump you remembered, and someone older stood in his place. Slightly messy hair, salt and peppered facial hair. A few curls starting to form on the ends of his hair, tired eyes, no smile at all. But he was built, a body only a man of labour could have.

“We had a few hours free between jobs so thought we’d show you what you can expect to do from Monday.” Your dad explained, “but first I need to pee.”

Your dad had jogged upstairs, and left you with all 6’3 of his best friend.

“Hi, Joel.” You smiled sweetly at him.

“Hi, darlin’,” he drawled, “how y’been?”

“Good as I can be really, lost my job, back to living with dad,” you shrugged, “what about you?”

“Workin’.” He huffed, you knew there was more to say than he did, but you didn’t press.

“Just as grumpy as I remembered,” you mumbled but it seemed to fall upon deaf ears.

You’d made your soup, gave your dad and Joel some, and listened as they — your dad — discussed your job role and made you sign some paperwork to take you on officially.

It was a relaxed offer, work from home, and access to their office if necessary, and work whenever you want, as long as the work was done by the deadline.

“Well, kiddo, don’t wanna keep you from whatever you’re gonna do today.” Your dad gathered his paperwork and tucked it under his arm. “What is it ya’doin’ today?”

”Well, I was going to do some bedroom shopping but my car doesn’t arrive till next week.” You answered, stacking the soup bowls and placing them in the sink.

“I can take ya’tomorrow if you like?” Joel offered, which took both you and your dad by surprise. “I got the bigger truck, only makes sense.”

”Sure thing. Thanks, Mr Miller.” You smiled up at him, passing by him with only an inch between you.

”I’ll go put this paperwork in my home office, Joel, get the truck runnin’.” Your dad called out, already at the top of the staircase.

“You heard the man.” You spoke quietly, Joel’s gaze on you hadn’t broken once since you’d thanked him. You’d do just about anything to have a swim around his brain right now.

He’d stepped onto the porch, unlocking the truck and turning back to face you once again.

“Darlin’,” he spoke, his voice gruff, almost like he’d just woken up, “you’re a smart girl. You’ll find ya’feet again soon, I bet.”

[nebrasska-alasska]

Is chapter 17 of “we’re gay so let’s have our wrists tethered” really coming out this Sunday?🤭 Is it a juicy one?

I’m so sorry for being so bold asking that, it’s ok if you don’t want to give spoilers or anything, it’s just that I really really love your fics and you got me horribly obssesed,😀 I’m literally in med school rn and can’t stop thinking about those gay hedgehogs😔, I remember refreshing my page in an unhealthy way when you were releasing chapters from The Secrets In Our Quills.

Also I take this opportunity to tell you that I remember you answering an ask and saying that you think your writing is not feeling the same to you anymore or something similar to that, I just want you to know there are thousands of us out here who really value it, cherish it and love it very much and can’t wait for more of your work to be released so pleaseee don’t doubt yourself in that aspect🙏🏻🙏🏻 .I hope you’re doing good yourself and with your school, I have friends and my sister also in dental school and know how hard clinics can be and I as a medical student can understand high pressure😣 so I really hope you’re also saving some time for yourself and your peace of mind.

I’m so sorry this came out so long lmao. Greetings and love from México!!🫶

Yes currently the plan is to publish the next chapter of 'Tethered at the Wrist' (we’re gay so let’s have our wrists tethered trololol) tomorrow! As of right now. Might change. I guess we'll all find out tomorrow evening ;)))

And omg yes it is a juicy one! THE juicy one of the fic, at least, in my opinion. Like obviously fun stuff will still happen after this chapter, but this is kind of what a lot of the story has been building up to. So I've been having a blast finally writing it!!! :D

And thank you so much for your kind words about my writing!!! Truly, brought a tear to my eye, that means so much to me! I actually decided to take a short break this part week from writing and dedicated myself to spending time with my family and focusing on making the hard decision of where I want to go and practice for the next chapter of my life (and truthfully, the weight of it has left me feeling a bit depressed and fatigued). But now that I've sat down to work on the next chapter of 'Tethered at the Wrist,' I can say that the break was very much needed. I'm really pleased with how it's been turning out so far, and I hope it lives up to the juicy hype ;))) But yes, thank you again for your lovely comments!!! <3

[mikayuumouse]

IMAGINING AKUTAGAWA WITH ATTACHMENT ISSUES AFTER ATSUSHI DIED IN FRONT OF HIM (or vice versa)

God I know they suck at actually communicating their feelings with words and instead die for each other, but I can't get the possibility of Akutagawa being majorly effected by Atsushi's death enough to where he can't bear to leave Atsushi alone, out of my head

(side note: I think Akutagawa should join the Agency. We already know from beast he'd make a pretty decent detective)

I know Akutagawa's terrified of losing Atsushi. And Atsushi had to die to save him for him to even realize that 🙏 Asagiri you wizard I love how you write Sskk's relationship

But like, just imagine an Akutagawa trailing Atsushi around like a lost dog (one could almost say...a stray dog) on his days off or Akutagawa constantly checks up on him and calls him or just like small little, caring things like that. Akutagawa with the realization of how much Atsushi means to him

Also, speaking of sskk clinginess; sskk reunion

Asagiri is most likely going to do what none of us expects with however he approaches the sskk reunion, but oh my goodness every new chapter that drops changes my ideas for how it'll unfold

I wonder if they'll talk. If they'll hug. They should probably hug. And talk. They really need to talk atp

And you know they're going to argue. But not a real argument, the kind of sskk argument that they only do to talk about their actual problems

Ohhhh there's just so many layers to sskk and I don't know if I can pluck them all apart. And right now I'm really just wondering about the what ifs of their changed relationship

(I'm absolutely PINING for a chance of Atsushi asking "do you hate me?" which makes Akutagawa have to answer with his current/future character growth)

[phoenixeclipse-lmkau]

The Cursed Warlords Chapter #Nineteen – Hurt and Comfort

Of all the things you had to deal with on this journey, staying long enough to get your period once again was NOT apart of your plan!

It took the rest of that day to walk around the town. Spirit was firm in the fact that she didn’t want you to get involved with whoever was in the town. The monkey demon Mink had ran off so quickly you were unable to catch up with him even if you tried. So you continued your trip.

Wukong nuzzled your face happy with his win, having scared off the other demon. Though it wasn’t like Mink was trying to hurt you and was actually trying to help the warlords. But Wukong didn’t care, he tried to take him away from you! His precious darling, and for all he knew you could have gotten hurt before the curse would get broken!

‘You are an idiot,’ Macaque chirped with annoyance as je lounged on your other shoulder.

Wukong gawked at his mate in offence, ‘I am not! I protected our Reader!’ he explained rolling his eyes at his mate’s words.

‘Did you even think of the fact that we could have asked him to get Reader to bring us to Flower Fruit Mountain?’ Macaque responded with a groan.

Wukong opened his mouth to retort only to snap his mouth shut in shock. His brain fried for a second as he registered the fact that he just ruined their chance to break their curse sooner and get Reader to their home. Not to mention they could have found a way to get you to come to their home and you wouldn’t be able to leave without their say so.

‘Thought so,’ Macaque grumbled with an annoyed look on his face.

Though he hadn’t really helped the matter much. While Wukong was scaring off Mink he had let himself try and get your attention instead. The whole time he just wanted you to look at him instead of someone else, just like when he first met Wukong. Back when he had pined for Wukong, before they were mates and when he had to scare off the suitors who tried to get Wukong’s hand in marriage.

‘Macaque.’

His thoughts wondered back to those days, he could still feel the roaring jealousy that he felt back then. So many of Wukong’s suitors who died at his hand, he wasn’t even sure if his mate knew just how many. He purposefully didn’t tell him of the few that had been apart of the troop only to mysteriously disappear when they got too cozy with the single king.

‘Moon.’

Not that Wukong was any better. He knew how many people had died because someone said something bad about the ‘lone warrior,’ the ‘shadow’ of the king. Back when he first joined the troop after being a lone traveler for his whole life. Their screams were so lovely, whe didn’t mention how wonderful and horrible it made him feel. Wonderful because Wukong gave him attention before he proposed and horrible because at first Wukong saw them as friends and ‘sworn brothers,’ he rolled his eyes at the thought.

His mate had loved him just as much as he loved him ever since they met. He was just a dense idiot sometimes and didn’t realize it was romantic love rather than platonic. All he was at first was his ‘best bud’, well that changed when Macaque made the first move into courtship.

‘My Moon! Don’t ignore me! I said sorry,’ Wukong was all but crying at this point, his eyes wide with regret and fear for his life at the silence of his mate.

Macaque turned to look at him and rolled his eyes with a smirk. He didn’t respond only making Wukong even more silently hurt at the silence but he couldn’t do anything if he tried. Leaving you to calm the whiny monkey who was trying to get his mate’s attention.

>>>

The next few days were calm, they were peaceful and it was strange. Gentle breezes and a clear sky without a cloud in sight. Everything was easy for once, just you following Spirit’s lead towards your destination. However you didn’t expect this new road block to happen.

Sleeping in your under dress and using your outer hanfu as a pillow you woke up to something you didn’t want to deal with. You realized it in the early morning when you woke up with a painful cramp in your abdomen. Dread flooded through you as you gripped your stomach in pain. Your quiet groans caught the attention of Spirit who was already awake.

“You okay Reader?” She asked with a frown covering her lips.

“Uugh…. No,” you muttered trying to calm your cramps, it physically pained you knowing that you couldn’t have any ibuprofen or Advil, There was nothing to calm down the pain here.

You felt her hand press against your head and she frowned, you weren’t warm. You had plenty of sleep the last few days, she’s made sure you always had something to eat… Narrowing her eyes she gently shook your shoulder, hoping to get more information. She couldn’t help you if she didn’t know what was wrong, and she wanted to know what was going on before the cubs woke up. It was a miracle that they hadn’t woken up yet.

“What’s wrong?” She asked slowly.

You were about to respond when two small chirps turned your attention to them. A chirp from Peaches indicating he was awake and wanted food. That want for food was soon pushed back when he noticed you laying on the ground curled up in a fetal position. This wasn’t odd since you fell asleep in all kinds of positions but the look of pain on your face immediately had him chirping in worry.

“Shh Peaches. Reader I need you to tell me what’s wrong- do I smell blood?” That caught Plum’s attention. Now you were on the ground with three monkeys looking at you, chirping worriedly and asking for information, all while you were laying down and feeling mortified about the entire ordeal.

‘Blood!? Reader! Darling what happened!?’ Wukong chirped frantically his mate right at his side looking you over and sniffing your face.

“… It’s nothing,” You muttered in embarrassment.

“What? You’re bleeding,” Spirit bit back a slight growl bubbling up her through at the mere thought of it.

“I’m on my period. It’s not an external wound,” You grumbled before gently pushing the demoness away.

Said demoness gave you a blank look, blinking slowly at your words. She tilted her head in confusion, period? What was a period. She had never heard of such a thing, was it something that humans got? Was it a sickness!?

Wukong was no better, in fact he was still frantically looking you over in confusion. He had no idea what a period was, all he knew was that you were bleeding and you were in pain.

The only one of the three who was calm was Macaque. With his six ears he knew what a period was, his cheeks slightly flushed at the thoughts that flooded through his head. It was similar to a monkey demoness’s heat, at least from what he understood. The difference being was that demoness’ were most fertile during their heat while humans’ were most fertile right after their ‘periods.’ He was not going to disclose the delicious thoughts that flooded his mind, particularly the thought of you in their nest on Flower Fruit Mountain and beneath the two warlords.

“What the hell is a period?” Spirit asked, completely confused without a clue of what you were talking about.

You looked over your shoulder at her in shock. “A period, my menstrual cycle.”

Spirit stared back at you, tilting her head as she tried to figure out what you were talking about. Narrowing her eyes she asked, “You bleed? And it’s natural? How often does this happen?”

“Mmm… bout once a month, for a little less than a week,” You replied before groaning again, with all three monkeys gawking at you.

“You’re kidding! Why would you have to do that!? Are you sick!?” she asked nearly shouting in her shock.

You chuckled before grunting when the laugh hit your gut. “No. Women get it because it’s hoe their body handles their fertility… or something like that,” You e plainly vaguely not wanting to go in depth with it.

“Oh… So do you like… need rest?” Spirit asked unsure of what to do in this situation.

You nodded slightly curling up a little more, you tried to stretch a bit only for your gut to cramp even worse. Before you were able to curl up again, Plums pressed himself against your abdomen. You opened your mouth to say something but the words died in your throat, the heat of his body, and the slight pressure was nice. It was like a little heating pad.

“Hey get off of her. She said she was in pain,” Spirit growled at the white furred monkey.

Plums looked up at her blinking slowly before sticking his tongue out at her. Spirit’s fur puffed out as she growled and reached over you to grab the monkey.

“No. He’s fine,” You muttered tiredly and Spirit stopped her movement, a pout forming on her lips at your words. Regardless of her emotions she still nodded and left him alone.

Peaches chirped towards Plums before joining him in curling up with you, settling himself so he was comfy. His tail laying on top of Plums as he snuggled up to both of you.

“… Do you need something to eat?” Spirit asked from over your shoulder and you responded with a hum of agreement.

You didn’t look but you could hear her walking away from you. You wanted to say something, anything but couldn’t bring yourself to do anything but groan. Both monkeys that were curled up with you chirped sadly at your pain and you couldn’t help but lightly chuckle towards them.

You didn’t even realize you fell asleep until Spirit was shaking you awake with a bowl in her hand. Not questioning where she got or stored the object you accepted the vegetable stew, there was rice, carrots and some green beans. All together it was rather bland and definitely not something that you wanted to eat, but it was food and you really needed to eat.

“Thank you,” You mumbled, able to sit up now. Both cubs sat on your lap as you ate the soup that Spirit had made.

“I’m not a good cook… but it’s probably better than snacking on only fruit,” The monkey demoness explained, fidgeting with her clothes.

“Thank you, really. It could be worse, nothing is burnt and it’s fully cooked,” You replied with a light smile, all that you said was true, even if you were leaving out the part of no seasonings. You couldn’t blame her on that since you weren’t even sure where she would be able to get any seasonings anyway.

*CHIRP! CHIRP!*

You turned your gaze to the two monkeys on your lap, both with pouts on their faces. They were offended that you were thanking Spirit, thanking her without even acknowledging them! They were your future mates! And you were talking to her more than them!? Chirping again they waited for a response, and you delivered! Gently patting their heads and scratching them as you spoke. “Thank you two for your help too,” You chuckled as they purred.

Spirit rolled her eyes, “Oh please they didn’t even do anything.”

“… Are you jealous of cubs?” You asked and watched as Spirit’s whole face turned bright red, her mask turning a shade of purple from the fluster that covered her face. Both cubs laughed at her expression with smug looks on their faces.

“What!? No! As if I’d be jealous over two brats!” she growled, turning her back on you with a huff much to your amusement.

Both cubs chittered and laughed as Spirit fumed next to you. It was honestly adorable. You laughed before letting out another grunt as another cramp hit you. Spirit whirled around so fast you didn’t even see her move, as she came face to face with you.

Staring at you for a solid minute she finally sighed and muttered, “We’re not going anywhere for a while are we?”

“What? No we could- ugh… okay probably not,” You grumbled.

‘It’s okay love! Rest, we’ll travel later,’ Macaque chirped, he knew you couldn’t understand but wanted you to rest.

Spirit ignored the monkey cub and took a different approach. She yawned, and stretched her arms before plopping behind you. Her hands gently combing through your hair, gently massaging your head. Your eyes drooped as she scratched your scalp.

Laying back against her you laid your head in front of her crossed legs. A yawns escaped your lips and quiet chirps left the two cubs as they snuggled back up on your abdomen with a welcome warmth and slight pressure just enough to feel comfortable. That wasn’t even mentioning the gentle, cool hands that combed through your hair over and over in a calming and sleep inducing way.

It kind of reminded you of the way your mother used to comb through your hair. Cheerful memories filled your head, now bittersweet as you’re unable to see your family. Your heart clenched in pain as you wished and prayed that they were safe and well during your absence.

Once again you fell asleep, not noticing the way that Spirit curled up beside you and let herself also fall asleep. If you weren’t going anywhere any time soon then she might as well take advantage of the time and sleep.

Wukong glanced at Spirit with a slight scowl, he didn’t want to admit it, but he was jealous of the small demoness. She was protective and while not nearly as strong as The Monkey Kings, she had her own strengths. She protected you when he and his mate couldn’t and if it weren’t for her you would likely starve, get killed, eaten or worse. He hated to admit it but she did deserve a place in his troop… she would definitely help you join the troop easier with a familiar face.

Wukong wasn’t stupid, he knew that he was going to need to get you used to him and Macaque when he finally brought you home. To your new home with him, Macaque and the rest of his troop on Flower Fruit Mountain.

‘She’s going to make our perfect Queen~,’ Wukong chirped with a smile and Macaque chuckled, his tail lightly slapping his mate in a teasing manner. ‘You speak the obvious my love~.’

Wukong laughed, ‘I only speak the truth~ She is our perfect Queen just as you are my perfect King~’

<<< Chapter #Eighteen - The Monkey Demon

[gulliblelemon]

Sunday Snippet

This is from a chapter 6 of the childhood friends fic I'm working on. Something that I actually wrote this week! I figure if I keep doing snippets from chapter 1, the whole thing will be spoilt before I've even finished writing.

-

It was actually twenty minutes before Rosh emerged from the changing rooms, hair wet and a gleeful smile on her face. With a shriek, she jumped on top of Simon who yelped but steadied them and accepted the exuberant hug.

“We fucking won!” she yelled into his ear.

Simon laughed and accepted the knuckle rub on his head. “You did,” he agreed, finally being released so that Rosh could give Ayub the same treatment.

Once Ayub had successfully fought her off, she turned to Wille. 

“Good match,” he said, holding out his hand.

She looked at it for a moment, then back up at his face, then rolled her eyes and put him in a headlock, grinding her knuckles into his scalp. It hurt. Wille didn’t think he’d ever been happier about something hurting so much. 

When she finally let him go, his scalp tingling unpleasantly, a wide grin splitting his face, she shoved his shoulder and said, “Don’t get used to it. But you’re a good sport.” Then she turned around, slung her arm around Ayub’s shoulder and started walking them towards the car park.

“See.” Simon bumped his shoulder into Wille’s as they followed at a small distance. “She does like you.”

“Hmm,” was all Wille responded with, but it was through a smile. “Maybe.”

Simon bumped his shoulder again, hiding a small smile of his own, and Wille’s heart was so full it felt like it might burst.

[heroesrest64]

Farming For Heroes

Find the whole project here

(Notes: I wanted the interactions in this and the next chapter to be almost interchangeable with eachother? I feel like I did a pretty good job with everyone except Wind, who was slightly more personalized)

Chapter 2: Tutorials (pt.1)

There’s a knock on your door early in the morning, and you grumble while trying to claw your way out of bed, landing on the floor with a fwump. You sit there, blinking blindly for two seconds, not even remembering why you were getting up in the first place, only to hear another, slightly more urgent knock.

Ah. You should go and answer that.

You get up and head for your door, patting down your bed head and trying not to think about your morning breath. If someone wants to wake you up at the crack of dawn, they can get you at your crack of dawn self.

Of course, the person on the other side of the door would be Hateno Village’s mayor, a.k.a. your parents’ best friend and someone who you called an ‘uncle’ growing up. He doesn’t seem the least bit surprised to see you looking so disheveled.

“Just like your parents… Don’t you know farmers are supposed to get up at the first cucco’s crow?” Reede smiles down at you, and you chuckle, rubbing the back of your neck in mock embarrassment. There’s no real heat in his words- Reede might be a bit strict when he’s on official business, but this is obviously a social visit.

“Good to see you too, Uncle Reede. C’mon in, I can get us some tea. Can’t promise it’ll be any good though.” Shrugging, you open your door a little wider, and the man steps inside, hissing at how roughed up the building looks.

“Geez. No ‘Oh my goddess, look how spotless these counters are’, or ‘wow, your temporary kitchen set-up is stunning, how did you manage to set up a cookfire inside your flammable wood house without burning the whole place down?’ And to that I would say ‘Thanks for your compliments, Uncle Reede. It was actually a whole adventure getting this cookfire set up, and I would prefer not to go into detail in the presence of polite company’.”

“Well there you go speakin’ my own words for me. Though, I am curious about that cookfire now-“ The brown haired man jokes, and you cut him a sideways look before setting a kettle over said fire, stoking the flames and leaving your tea to heat up before joining your uncle at your rickety, barely stable dining table.

“So, what are you here for? You’re not really one for social visits.” You hum, slumping into your chair, and Reede steeples his fingers in front of him, giving you a considering look.

“Times are changing, young farmer. The ways your parents ran this farm are long past, and nowadays there’s new techniques and machines that can do the work of five or even ten people. You can try to run it like they did in the past, but I think you’re more progressive than that. I came here to tell you that you should get with your neighbors. Mingle. Listen to what they have to say. You may learn some new techniques to care for your farm.”

You consider Reese’s words, tapping a short rhythm on your dining table until the sound of your kettle whistling pulls you out of your thoughts. You rush to take it off the fire, pouring two cups and dunking tea bags you got from castle town in the mugs before toting them back to the table.

“I hear you, Reede. I know you’re sayin this ‘cause I’m not the most social person around. I can’t promise much, but I can promise to try. Heck, why not start today? I’ll see about talking to a few of my neighbors just as soon as I finish up my chores for the day.” You grin, and Reede seems pleased, taking a swig of the offered tea before immediately spitting it back into his cup

“What is this?!” He gasps, appalled at the brownish watery mixture in his cup.

“It’s supposed to be a simple black tea. I don’t know what those city folk to do make it as awful as it is, but that’s what I’ve had to deal with these last few years…” You grumble, swirling your cup around and watching it darken ever so slightly.

“Do not drink that. Hold on-“ Reede pauses, reaching into his bag and rummaging around in it until he procures a bag filled with seeds.

“Make yourself some real tea leaves with these. I don’t want to see you serving up that swill ever again.” Reede shakes his head, probably thinking about you choking on the rancid tea for the last few years. You take the seeds like they’re a gift from Hylia, holding them reverently in front of you.

“Thank you, Sir Reede. Your donation will not be in vain.” You bow your head dramatically, and Reede scoffs before lightly flicking you on the forehead.

“Just stop by for dinner to pay me back. The missus and kiddo have been worried about you.” Reede waves you off, then carefully makes his way out of your house, avoiding some of the more obvious holes in the floor before firmly shutting the door behind him.

You let out a sigh, looking at the seeds on your counter before deciding that you really ought to get up and start your day before the sun gets away from you.

~~

You’re exhausted by the time you’ve finished planting your new tea seedlings and watering your crops, but you did promise your uncle you’d go out and socialize today. Your first stop looks to be Time’s farm, as you spot the man and his ranch hand tending to the fields on your walk through the village.

“Heya Time, Twilight.” You greet, stepping right up to the two men who halt their work to talk to you.

“Hello, farmer. What brings you by? In need of a couple more seeds?” Time asks, wiping his gloves off on his forest green overalls, and you try not to think about how muscular he looks with his work shirt rolled up like it is.

“Oh, nah. I’m just tryna see a bit more of the village. It’s changed a lot since I left. Like these watering devices, for example…” You tilt your head down, gesturing at the sprinklers with your chin.

“They’re sprinklers, set up by the young lady running the tech lab at the top of the hill. I’m sure she’d be more than happy to get you some as well.” Time explains, and you glance at where you remember the tech lab being, nodding briefly.

“I’ll have to check it out later, then. Do y’all mind if I take a closer look at your farm? I’m curious to see if anything else changed.”

“Not at all. Twilight, why don’t you take a break and give them a tour? And if you’re feeling helpful, you can help my ranch hand with a couple of his chores. It might knock off some rust and get you back in the farming mindset.” Time smiles, eyes glistening in the morning sunlight, and you feel like you can only mutter an agreement before Twilight gestures for you to follow him towards a barn off to the side of the carefully manicured fields.

“Are ya any good with animals?” Twilight asks, pocketing his gloves as he walks.

“I’d like to think so. What sorts do ya got?” You ask, skipping up to his side.

“We got a few options. I go out and tame the wild ones, then bring ‘em back here so they aren’t hunted by monsters and such. This here’s the coop- perfect for cuccos of all shapes and sizes, and the odd smaller critter, if you’re feeling adventurous about your livestock.” Twilight opens the door, and a flock of cuccos parades out, clucking and nipping around for any feed on the ground. You’re kind of surprised to see some pheasants and ducks mixed in the group, as well as some fluffy rabbits who hop out after the fowl.

“Wow! How do you take care of them all?” You ask, leaning down to pick up a slightly more docile cucco, petting through the feathers at the crest of its head.

“On clear days like this, they’re content to just be let out to feed and such, but Purah put in something called an auto-feeder that’ll fill up their troughs during rainy days. Not a bad setup, if you ask me.” Twilight smiles, stepping over a rabbit that had pinned itself under his foot and stumbling off towards a red painted barn.

“Over here we’ve got the barn. Lotsa sweet heifers roam the fields, and if ya ever go down to Lurelin, you could probably tame yourself a water buffalo or two. And of course, my favorite, some rough and tumble ordonian goats.”

Twilight pulls open the farm doors with a mighty heave, and you watch as the cattle come spilling out. The goats practically flock around Twilight, who pets them down before grabbing a pail to milk them.

“There’s a brush and extra pail inside, if you wanna help me get the cows. They’ll be grateful if ya help ‘em.” Twilight calls out, and you make your way into the barn, winding around the cows, sheep and goats that bump into you as you go.

Inside, you find the offered pail and brush, but you also take a moment to peek at the strange setup by the troughs, brows rising as the device churns out some fresh fodder right before your eyes. You’ll definitely have to get your hands on a couple of those once you get your barn and coop set up.

Back outside, you work on milking the cows, humming some sort of tune under your breath as you work. They really are very sweet, just like Twilight said, and you’re done before you know it.

“Got ‘em all?” Twilight calls out, pushing a particularly large ordon goat out of his way as it tries to bully him around. It seems Time isn’t the only one on this farm with an impressive set of muscles.

“Yeah. The bottles are right over there-“ You gesture behind you at a couple crates filled with the cows milk, and Twilight nods gratefully.

“Just gotta grab the eggs, and then we’re done.” Twilight gestures back towards the coop, and you follow, helping him gather up any eggs as well as some downy fluff the birds have shed. Twilight also hands you a pair of clippers and asks for you to help him shear some of the rabbits of their winter coats, leaving you with some of the thickest most comfortable fluff you’ve ever gotten ahold of.

“And here’s your cut,” Twilight hums as you finish up, holding a basket with a couple bottles of milk, some fresh eggs, a few feathers and a spool of rabbit fur out for you. You stumble a little, not expecting to get anything for your work, and more so doing it to knock off some rust as Time had mentioned.

“O-oh, you don’t have to-“ You stutter, hands raised defensively, but Twilight holds the basket out to you insistently.

“Take it, I insist. Besides, I think Time had something he wanted to do with the stuff you got from all of this.” Twilight tilts his head towards the farm house, where Time is standing on the deck, a glass in one hand, his other raising to wave a greeting.

“Right. Well, thank you, Twilight. I guess I’ll see you again later.” You dip your head gratefully, grabbing the basket by its handle before stumbling off to meet up with Time.

“Looks like you got yourself a pretty good haul. Come by again anytime and we can set you up with the same deal.” Time smiles, grabbing another cup off the railing that he holds out to you. It’s some freshly chilled orange juice, probably made towards the end of the winter season.

“Thank you, Time. Uhm, Twilight said you had something else you wanted to show me,” You start, climbing up the steps to be on equal footing with the man.

“Just thought I’d offer a trade deal. A lot of people in Hateno have certain items they want or need, and they’ll be willing to trade some premium products for that sorta stuff. If you give me one of those milks-“ Time gestures to one of the bottles settled snugly into your basket, “I’ve got some rare seeds with your name on them.”

The request is a little odd to you. Twilight works with Time, and he obviously has plenty of milk to go around, although maybe this is just Time’s way of showing you how other trade deals will work in the future. Either way, you don’t have much to lose.

“Sure thing. Here ya go.” You agree, taking one of the bottles, and Time lights up, grabbing a bag of seeds and trading them for the milk.

“Once these grow to maturity, stop by again and Twilight can show you how to properly use ‘em.” Time nods his head, and you take a moment to read the label on the seed bag. ‘Horse Grass’. You don’t think you’ve heard about such a crop before.

“Thank you, Time. I should head out now, but thanks for your hospitality.” You nod your head once, placing the seeds in the space the milk bottle once was before waving vaguely. Time waves as well, and you decide to move on to your next destination.

~~

Keeping on the trend of visiting people who’ve given you free things, you find yourself standing on the steps of Hateno Villages new clinic. It’s cuter than you thought it’d be, with planters filled with wild herbs on the windowsills and rain flowers painting the porch in hues of white and pink.

Stepping inside, you can faintly smell something sweet, like baked goods left to sit and cool down. “Hyrule? Are you in here?” You call out, stepping up to the counter and placing your basket down. There’s some faint clattering, and soon the brown haired man comes zipping into the waiting room, hair slightly askew and a worried look on his face.

“Oh my gosh you’re hurt already?! Where’s the damage? On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your pain?” Hyrule goes around the counter, hands fluttering through the air as he scans you for whatever injury you might’ve incurred.

“Whoa, whoa! I’m fine. I just thought I’d stop by and see how you’re doing. I was also curious about your clinic. Hateno never had one before, so I wanted to know how it’s run.” You smile placatingly, and Hyrule immediately calms down.

“I see. Sorry for panicking; I heard from Warriors you were thinking about joining the monster hunting team and was worried you got hurt. I’m, uh, usually more composed than that.” Hyrule grins, rubbing the back of his neck nervously before looking off to the side, seemingly considering something.

“If you’re curious about how the clinic works, I can give you a tour.” The brown haired man eventually offers, and you happily agree, gesturing for him to lead the way.

“Okay, so this is kind of a reception or waiting room. It's also where you come if you want to buy some potions from me. There’s healing, stamina, and a few potions to protect you from the elements. Just the usual fare, I suppose.” Hyrule hums, guiding you behind the counter and pulling out a book filled with his different wares. He even listed allergens next to the potions. Cute!

“If you come back here, there are some sectioned off spaces for patients with more severe injuries, or if they need to be quarantined for observation. I try to keep this place tidy, what with a bunch of monster hunters running around. We don’t need anyone getting infections while they’re trying to heal up.” Hyrule clicks his tongue, and you nod along.

“Is that why you started a clinic here? To keep everyone healthy?” You wonder, and Hyrule pauses, pursing his lips in contemplation.

“In a way, yes. A lot of these people… They’re like family to me. I want to make sure they’re safe. So I do what I can for them, whether that be fighting beside them, or healing them after a tough battle.”

You’re a little surprised to hear that Hyrule is also a fighter. He’s more slight than you figured he should be, although now that you were looking closer, his muscles were pretty defined.

Hyrule takes you into another room, this one darker and smelling like herbs and something vaguely sweet. “This is where the magic happens; my workshop.” Hyrule explains, stepping a little further into the room and gesturing for you to do the same.

Herbs are drying on each of the walls, and there’s a large cauldron bubbling over the fire place, filled with an uncomfortably purple liquid. There’s also a table covered in other ingredients, a cutting board, and a mortar and pestle.

“What are you making?” You decide to ask, peeking into the cauldron cautiously. It’s probably the most vibrant purple color you’ve ever seen. Is it glowing slightly?

“That’s actually lunch. As long as you clean it out between meals and potions, it’s fine to use for either.” Hyrule smiles, and you can’t help but give him a sideways look. This glowing purple sludge is… a meal? Why does it smell sweet? What are the strange brown things floating within? Do you actually want to know?

No. No, perhaps not.

“A big pot like this must be hard to clean out,” You say instead, and Hyrule nods before seeming to realize something.

“Ah! That reminds me, I have something for you.” He gasps, turning towards the table covered in ingredients and rummaging through it before staggering back with what seems to be a smaller version of the cauldron you were just observing.

“This is a travel cauldron. It’s enchanted to fit in your tool bag easily, so you can take it on adventures or to cook simple meals at home.” Hyrule holds the cast iron cauldron out to you, and you carefully heft it into your arms. It’s not as heavy as you thought it’d be, but it’s sturdy and obviously well-loved.

“Thanks, Hyrule. That’s really sweet of you.” You smile, placing the pot in your bag.

“Since you might be joining the monster hunting team, it’s a good tool to have. I also have a couple simple potion recipes for you to try out,” Hyrule hands over a small notebook, and you feel yourself becoming overwhelmed with his kindness. You should get this man something, to say thanks for all of his help; but you don’t want to give him just anything from your person. You’ll have to plan out a gift and come back later.

“Thank you, truly, Hyrule. And thanks for letting me tour your clinic. Hopefully most of my future visits are social like this one.” You grin, and Hyrule starts guiding you back to the front of his clinic.

“Social visits sound fun. I’ll have to cook you something nice next time, and we can chat longer.” Hyrule gently places a hand on the small of your back, steering you around a shelf you would have run into otherwise, too preoccupied thinking of a way to turn down the offer for lunch. Although, maybe it won’t be as bad as it looked..?

No. You’d definitely get poisoned if you ate the purple goop still bubbling in Hyrule’s cauldron. You’ll just have to eat before visiting Hyrule in the future.

“Sounds good. I’ll see you around, Hyrule.” And with that, you leave the clinic, a new weight in your tool bag and laden with the knowledge that the town’s doctor cannot cook.

~~

Right next to the clinic is a building with smoke pouring out of its nearly industrial chimney. There wasn’t a forge in Hateno when you left a few years back, but you suppose Four has to work somewhere. You step inside and are greeted with a thick, all-encompassing heat and the smell of metal. Despite the ambiance, there isn’t a single metal shaving in sight, just rows of displayed weapons, tools and other small metal objects.

The actual forge must be in a separate room, you figure, and decide to browse the displays before checking it out.

While you’re looking around what seems to be the shop part of the blacksmith, you consider what type of weapon would be a good match for you. You’ve only ever gotten some basic training with a sword while taking a self defense class in Castle Town, but there are spears, bows and arrows, claws, axes and even war hammers on display. You’re just about to lift a sword off of its display when a gruff voice calls out, “Something caught your eye, youngun?”

Whipping around, you find an older man with an impressive beard on his chin and his head covered by a green bandana lightly stained with sweat. He smells like iron and there’s grease stains on his shirt and apron.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t realize I wasn’t allowed to touch them! This just, uh, looked like the same kind of sword I used back in castle town.” You rambble, raising your hands like you were caught, but the older man only keeps his stern expression for a couple seconds more before letting out a bellowing laugh that fills up the shop’s space.

“Hohoho! Don’t be so nervous, young one. You’re allowed to touch. Just don’t go swinging it in the shop,” The older man just his chin back towards the sword, and you cautiously pick it up, careful as you take off the sheath to admire the forged iron underneath.

“It’s beautiful,” You breathe, testing the blade’s weight. Light enough that you could swing it with one hand, but sharp and sturdy enough for you to cause some decent damage.

“I’ll tell my grandson you said that.” The older man grins, his mustache curling up with motion.

“Grandson?” You ask curiously, reheating the sword and putting it back on its display.

“You might have met him. Short, multicolored tunic, hair held back with a headband. Four mentioned getting to meet the new farmer, who I suppose must be you.” The man hums, and you agree, realizing that Four must be this man’s grandson. It makes sense, you suppose. Blacksmithing must run in the family.

“Yes, it’s nice to meet you, uh,” You pause, realizing you don’t know that man’s name.

“Smith. Kind of an ironic name, isn’t it?” Smith huffs, and you laugh. The man seems to consider you for a second before pointing over his shoulder with his thumb, saying, “You look like you could handle some forge work. How ‘bout I take you to the work room and we see what you can make.”

You’re startled at the offer, but quickly scramble after the man as he toddles off to the forge. The door creaks open and you’re hit with a faceful of scorching air. It feels like you walked right into the hottest day of summer.

“Take these- we’ll have you smelt some copper bars for now.” Smith throws a thick leather apron your way, along with some insulated gloves that you quickly don before following the man towards the forge.

He shows you all the basics- how to get the forge to the right temperature, how to melt down the chunks of copper, then helping you pour it into an ingot mold before letting it cool. You have five copper ingots before long, and the man pats you roughly on the back in congratulations.

“That wasn’t half bad. Thinking of taking up smithing in addition to your farm?” A different voice asks, and you whirl around to see Four standing by the door, arms folded over his chest as he observes you from his resting place.

“Well, it seems kind of fun… Maybe I’ll take up smithing as a hobby.” You shrug, moving to stuff the copper ingots into your bag, only to be stopped when Four steps forward, halting you by lightly gripping your wrist.

“Hold on. You’re joining the monster hunters, right? It’ll be easier if you have an actual weapon.”

“I don’t think I have enough for one of your swords right now,” You nervously admit, cheeks flushing from something other than the heat of the forge.

“Don’t bother. Just give me those-“ Four tilts his chin towards the ingots in your hands, “and I can get you a decent starter blade.”

You hand over your freshly crafted copper ingots, and Four totes them off to a well organized work station before rummaging around, coming back only a couple minutes later with a copper sword.

“It’s sharp, so be careful. Tell me if it feels balanced to you.” Four lets you take the blood orange sword, and you weigh it in your hand before trying for a couple swings, careful to not bit anyone or any of the workbenches surrounding you. It’s not as good as the steel sword you tested earlier, but you can see yourself making use of it until you can afford something better.

“It’s nice. Thank you,” You dip your head, and Four rubs the back of his neck, smiling at you.

“Come back anytime, and we can get it sharpened for free. Gramps also has a bit of a side business. He can tell you the condition of any treasures you pick up while out adventuring. If you find something really good, it can be sold for a lot of money.” Four grins, and you nod, carefully sheathing your new sword and placing it on your tool belt.

The two men see you out shortly after, and you find yourself on your way once more.

~~

“Goddesses, I feel like I’ve done a ton today, and I still haven’t been to all the new shops in town,” You mumble, making your way down the dirt paths of Hateno until your stomach rumbles an ungodly sound.

Right. You skipped breakfast, and it’s already practically lunch time. That just gives you an opportunity to visit one more establishment and grab a meal at the same time. Aren’t you efficient?

You carefully cross the bridge leading to the tavern then jog up to the front door, swinging it open and immediately smelling something heavenly.

“Hey farmer! Come right in, I’ll take your order at the bar.” Wild calls out, dropping off some food to someone in a booth before rounding to the bar. You’re sitting in one of the plush stools just as he steps behind the counter, and he smiles before asking you what you’d like to eat.

“It’s right around lunchtime, so… Pizza?” You suggest, and the man seems elated at your choice.

“Sounds great! I’ll get that right out for ya- oh! Now that I think about it, the mayor said something about helping you relearn how to cook. Something about ‘not even being able to make a cup of tea’,” Wild hums, and you whip around to see Reese sitting in the booth, sipping out of a mug with a plate of piping hot food in front of him.

‘You’ll pay for this,’ you mouth to the man, who simply smiles innocently.

“So how about you help me make your lunch, that’ll knock the dust off.” Wild lifts a board separating the bar from the kitchen, and you step under it and follow him into the kitchen. It’s pretty spacious, and surprisingly well organized.

“We’ll do a few courses. A nice spring salad, your requested pizza, and something sweet as a dessert… chocolate cake?” Wild mutters the last part under his breath, but you still pick up on it. That actually sounds like a really nice meal, and you eagerly wash your hands before working on the dough for the pizza.

The two of you work in tandem to craft what’s shaping up to be a tasty smelling lunch, and the meal is finished before you know it, perfectly plated in front of the seat you chose for yourself earlier.

“That looks pretty good. Y’know, most of my friends are banned from the kitchen just ‘cause of how bad they are at cooking. I think I could make an exception for you.” Wild winks, and you feel your cheeks heating up, tilting your head down to hide the flush.

“Heh, I’ll take that as a compliment. This is really good, by the way. I’ll have to remember the recipe for later.” You compliment, tapping your fork to the plate of chocolate cake in front of you.

“Funny you should mention that, I actually have a recipe book right here. I took the liberty of writing down some basic meals, but I’ll leave the rest to you.” Wild slides a hard covered book towards you, and you tuck it away gratefully.

As you’re getting ready to head out after finishing up your meal, Wild stops you one last time, a couple wrapped parcels in his hands.

“These are the leftovers from earlier. I figure you should get to savor your hard work for longer than one meal.”

You’re starting to get a feeling that generosity and overwhelming kindness are just traits of all of the new people making Hateno Village their home, and you decide that as soon as you can, you’ll work on returning the favor.

~~

It’s almost sundown when you leave Wild’s Tavern, and you decide to just wind down during your last couple hours of daylight. Your wandering brings you to the stream cutting through the town, and you sit down at the pier, taking off your boots and socks and letting the chilly water ease your aches from walking around all day.

“Hey farmer! Taking a break?” A youthful voice calls out, and you hear the thudding of leather shoes against the aging pier before Wind plops down beside you.

“Hello, Wind. Yeah, I feel like I’ve been running around the whole village today.” You sigh, shaking your head in exasperation.

“I could tell. Seems like everyone I talked to had something to say about you.” Wind giggles, and you tilt your head at him, curious.

“Nothing bad, I hope?”

“Of course not! It seems everyone thinks you’re a good guest. Heck, Hyrule was saying he wanted to get some proper tea and snacks for your next visit, and Twilight was raving about how happy the animals you took care of were!” Wind gushes, and you feel your heart swell with warmth. If they talk about you so kindly even when you’re not around, they must actually mean it.

“Which is why I have decided that you would be the perfect fishing partner,” Wind announces, and whips a fishing rod out of seemingly thin air, dutifully pressing it into your hands, even as you fumble to get ahold of it.

“What??” You yelp, struggling to keep the rod in your hands and not let it sink into the stream in front of you.

“You heard me! It’s time for a fishing competition. Whoever gets the biggest fish by the end of the hour gets to keep ALL of the fish we catch.” Wind cackles, taking a second rod out and casting his line. You manage to calm yourself down and flick your rod, letting the bobber whizz through the air before landing in the water with a plonk.

Despite the panic-inducing start of the competition, fishing next to Wind turns out to be a delightful experience. He gives you some pointers, and has a generally humorous attitude about the whole competition. You’re almost certain he throws the challenge on purpose, as your biggest catch of a 48cm Hyrule Bass feels like something Wind could’ve pulled up in an instant with no sweat. Regardless, the competition ends in you earning three medium sized Hyrule Bass and four small armored carps.

“Not bad for your first haul! A lot of people fish as a hobby around here, and if you become better friends with them, they might invite you to a competition similar to what we just did. I’d say it builds some pretty close bonds, and sometimes you’ll get a ton of fish as a reward, so it’s well worth taking on the challenge.” Wind grins, and you let out an interested sound. Is this Wind’s way of helping you make friends? That’s… kinda cute and really sweet.

“Of course, you can always count on me to be your fishing buddy, at least, as long as I’m in town.” Wind rubs the back of his neck thoughtfully.

“You leave the village?” You ask, somewhat concerned.

“I live down in Lurelin, with my Grandma and sister. I usually sail up to Hateno Beach every couple days for deliveries, but this go around, my skiff got a little banged up. Sky is supposed to be fixing it right now, but that man always has his head up in the clouds,” Wind rolls his eyes, and you laugh. You may not know very much about the carpenter, but even just from meeting him you could tell he wasn’t the most present man in the world.

“Either way, I like staying in Hateno. The fishing around here isn’t too bad, and I’ve had a lot of time to get seashells to make gifts for my sister. Oh! Once my ship is back up, I’ll ferry you down to Lurelin, and you can meet her! I bet the two of you will get along.” Wind seems excited at his own plans, quickly standing up and tucking his fishing rod away.

“I’m gonna go bother Sky about my ship again! Have fun fishing!!” Wind shouts, peeling off down the road before you can even think to respond. You stare after him for a while before laughing, shaking your head in exasperation before casting your line back into the stream. You’ll have to get better so he won’t have to hold back the next time you compete against him.

[indiestsnake]

heyyy look it’s a vent post. about. how i keep forcing you all to repeat the nice words you say because evidently my skulls a bit too thick to retain the info

don’t read if you don’t want to, I’ll probably sleep this off anyway

I hate how my brain neutralizes compliments

the longer nice words someone says stay in my brain the more fake they feel. even from my friends. what if their opinion has changed? what if I’ve done something wrong? what if they just don’t feel that strongly anymore?

it doesn’t help that i can’t expect anyone to come up with new ways to validate my stupid brain constantly

I still remember the beginning of to find warmth. every word mattered so much to me. checking my phone and always seeing that little inbox number tick up, faster and faster with each chapter, comments growing longer and more complex. I got tumblr and random people came by to tell me how cool they thought I was. I finally felt like I was important for once

and then it just. slowly started to mean a little less

my brain adapts. moves the goalpost. it writes the last words off as meaningless and says the current ones aren’t actually that impressive. sure, people like your writing. so what? you’re bad at a million other things.

and then the comments themselves slowed down. my fifteen minutes ran out. I no longer woke to 99+ notifs on tumblr, I stopped having new comments to read every morning. consitient commenters come and go because how the hell can I expect someone to find a new way to be nice to me every single chapter I post? it’s not possible. much less any sort of reasonable goal

the comments still mean a lot. it’s the difference between a gallon of water after a trek through a desert, and a sip on a hot day. I used to be starved for compliments. now I’m not.

someone called to find warmth one of their favorite books. someone said it genuinely empowered them with its themes. a friend reached out to translate it to Russian. the numbers grow higher and higher

but for some reason I just. it doesn’t feel real unless they say it again. it’s corroborated, or reiterated, or repeated. I keep forcing you all to keep telling me the ways I’ve impacted you over and over in different formats because I dump all the words you say into a self hatred acid pit apparently

I’m so grateful for the fandom I’ve grown and recieved. I could never express how happy it makes me to see this reach and help so many people. I’m sorry you have to hear me whine as if your words mean nothing I swear they do

I promise they do. they do. please please believe me. I just need you to repeat them. that’s all I ever say to you guys

im sorry. you don’t have to. you dont have to repeat yourself. you dont have to reach out to reinforce what I should already know. nor do you have to keep telling me things if this post makes it feel meaningless

im so happy to have you all. im sorry

[elizabeth-holland24]

Snowed In at the Country Inn - Chapter 4

In the aftermath of last night’s argument, the square was a blur of tinsel and chatter once more, filled with antsy children and gloved hands clutching cups of hot chocolate. A carousel spun out holiday tunes as though nothing had changed, but something felt different—like a missing jingle on a familiar song. Usually, the bustle of the Christmas market buoyed your spirits, yet today it was all you could do to ignore its merriment. The fight with Jake loomed large and ugly, casting a long shadow over the day’s festivities. From the moment you arrived, you sidestepped every chance encounter and turned away from laughter that threatened to circle back to him. You kept your head down, determined to act unbothered but struggling to feel it.

You were bent over the task of sorting through garlands and ornaments by the edge of the display, losing yourself in the soothing distraction of decorating.Mile-long strings of red and green beads lay in tangled heaps, their disarray demanding your single-minded attention. You intend your hands to stay busy, hoping Jake was off charming someone else far, far away from your vicinity. You needed the space and quiet to think, and the best way to get that was for him to be somewhere—anywhere—but near you.

Assuming Jake was off wooing someone else far, far away from you, you plan to keep your hands occupied. The greatest way to gain the peace and quiet you needed to think was for him to be somewhere—anywhere—but close to you.

No such luck.

You spotted him across the square, helping a kid fix their bike chain. Of course, he was being annoyingly sweet. You turned back to your garlands with an irritated huff, only to find Natasha watching you from a few feet away, arms crossed and a smirk tugging at her lips.

“You’ve been rearranging that same gold ribbon for ten minutes,” she said, stepping closer.

“I’m organizing,” you replied flatly.

She raised an eyebrow. “Organizing. Uh-huh. You know what else helps people sort through things? A friendly team-building activity.”

Your eyes narrowed. “You’re not subtle.”

“I’m not trying to be.”

Across the way, Bradley had cornered Jake by the cocoa stand. “So, hey, there’s this couples’ scavenger hunt later today,” he said casually, too casually. “Town council wants everyone to partner up to encourage… community bonding. And stuff.”

Jake frowned. “And stuff?”

“Yeah. Plus, Natasha and I may have already signed you up.”

“You what?”

“Relax. You’re partnered with someone who’s great at lists and loves control. It’ll be fun.”

Jake’s jaw clenched. “You mean her.”

Bradley patted him on the back. “Just try not to insult her family this time, huh?”

Back with you, Natasha leaned in and handed you a tiny envelope. “Meet your scavenger hunt partner in front of the bakery at noon.”

You hesitated. “Who is it?”

She smiled wickedly. “You’ll see.”

Somehow, it seemed you were cursed by the universe. Maybe it was karma for all the times things had gone your way when they shouldn’t have, or fate’s way of punishing you for arguing with Jake at dinner. At exactly noon, you stood alone in front of the bakery, the crisp air biting at your cheeks, the envelope clutched tight in the hope that its contents wouldn't betray you. You imagined for a fleeting second that he was just a name on a list and that someone else would be standing with you. Maybe a stranger who wasn’t an incessant reminder of last night’s spat and of how much you wished things had gone differently.

The busy streets hummed with activity, shoppers bustling past in festive oblivion as you kept an eye out for your partner. You told yourself the odds were on your side, that you might even be lucky enough to pair up with someone you could actually stand. But, in the pit of your stomach, you knew better. Your eyes scanned every approaching figure, a small bubble of hope blooming and then bursting as each face came into view. You cursed yourself for letting hope even have a chance.

And just when you were foolishly starting to think that maybe—just maybe—you’d dodged the bullet, you saw an unmistakable silhouette heading your way, his hair ruffled by the wind.

Naturally, the universe had other plans.

Jake strolled up with his signature swagger, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, eyes flicking to yours with a mixture of hesitation and defiance. “Guess we’re the lucky couple.”

You opened the envelope without a word. Inside: a long scroll of holiday-themed challenges, written in Natasha’s perfectly looped cursive. At the bottom, in glitter pen, it read:

“Rule #1: You must complete every challenge together. No splitting up. Happy bonding! <3 – Nat & Brad”

You exhaled sharply. “I'm so killing them.”

Jake glanced at the list. “What’s first?”

You skimmed it. “Take a selfie recreating a romantic Christmas movie poster… Seriously?”

Jake grinned. “I call dibs on being Ryan Reynolds.”

You rolled your eyes but followed him to the oversized sleigh photo booth set up by the florist. You posed stiffly beside him, arms crossed, while he threw his arm around your shoulders like it was second nature.

Click.

Your face in the photo said grumpy elf. His said unbothered golden retriever.

“Next,” you muttered, dragging him toward the town square.

The library challenge was supposed to be easy—find the hidden candy cane stash nestled somewhere in the children’s section. But thirty minutes in, you were both elbow-deep in a chaotic mess of toppled books and badly deciphered clues, your patience unravelling with each passing second.

“I’m telling you,” Jake muttered, brushing dust off an oversized encyclopedia as he crouched beside a tilted bookshelf, “it’s got to be an anagram. ‘Sweet story’ could mean something—like Hansel and Gretel!”

You groaned, clutching a mangled copy of The Polar Express. “Or it just means literally any children’s book. This is not The Da Vinci Code.”

Jake shot you a look, half amusement, half challenge. “Well, at least I’m trying to think—”

Before he could finish, you tugged at a shelf that seemed suspiciously deeper than the rest—and the entire display buckled forward, sending a waterfall of hardcover picture books cascading onto the floor.

A heavy silence fell over the aisle.

Then, from behind the circulation desk, the librarian's voice rang out like a war horn. “OUT. Now!”

You and Jake bolted, half-tripping over scattered candy cane wrappers and each other’s feet, laughing breathlessly all the way to the pavement.

Later, in the town square gazebo, the mood shifted.

You paused beneath the next clue’s location—a delicate sprig of mistletoe hung from the arch above. It swayed slightly in the evening breeze, as if daring you both to acknowledge it.

Jake noticed it first, naturally. His grin was immediate, infuriatingly confident.

“Well, well,” he drawled, stepping into your space like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Looks like it’s your lucky day. You can just pretend I’m not irresistible.”

You didn’t even flinch. “I pretend that daily,” you replied flatly, though your voice lacked its usual bite.

But when he reached up—not to kiss you, but to gently brush a piece of tinsel from your cheek, his knuckles grazing your skin—you forgot how to breathe.

It was a simple touch. Light. Almost innocent. But the air between you suddenly felt too tight, too electric.

Jake’s eyes lingered for a second longer than necessary. He looked like he might say something, something real, something that would complicate things.

But the moment passed.

You stepped back, clearing your throat, pretending your pulse wasn’t hammering in your throat.

The next challenge brought you to the bakery, which—unsurprisingly—had run out of both time and actual snow. So, like any deranged duo determined to win, you and Jake improvised.

Flour. Cotton batting. Some crushed candy canes for flair.

Your “snowman” quickly devolved into a competition of petty sabotage.

Jake’s snowman sported an unsettlingly accurate version of your planner taped to its face.

“Oh, I see,” you said, arms crossed, surveying the abomination. “Trying to manifest organization in your life through art?”

He grinned proudly. “Figured if I couldn’t win your affection, I could at least earn a page in your colour-coded schedule.”

In retaliation, your snowman began to suspiciously resemble Jake. Messy tuft of faux snow for hair. Smug little candy cane grin. And, of course, the name tag on its chest: “Hi, I’m Trouble.”

Jake laughed out loud when he saw it. “Admit it,” he said, nudging you with his elbow. “You like me just a little.”

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth betrayed you.

Just a little.

By the time the final, neatly folded clue led to the community centre, the sun was already dipping low in the sky. The horizon blazed with an orange glow, mirroring the flicker of moody lights from the newly opened holiday stalls. Despite your best efforts to resist, the day’s misadventures—and Jake’s relentless charm—had started to chip away at your resolve. Laughter you hadn’t intended to share had slipped out more than once, and though you’d never admit it, even to yourself, your walls were undeniably beginning to soften. You opened the door with cautious determination, stepping into the wide room filled with glittering decorations, knowing that somewhere in here the last ornament awaited.

The promise of victory spurred you into action, and you strode toward a display of presents, determined to finish first. Jake followed, just a step behind, and with a flourish of his arm, reached out to grab the elusive final ornament for your hunt prize. A silver bell chimed as he lifted it triumphantly. “I think this calls for a speech,” he announced, but the moment was short-lived. To your horror, the door slammed shut with a resounding thud.

Both of you turned in stunned silence, the echo of the heavy door like a mocking laugh. Jake was the first to recover, casually walking back and jiggling the handle. “Uh-oh,” he said, cocking an eyebrow with maddening casualness.

“What?” you asked, crossing the room quickly, a note of panic edging your voice.

“It’s locked,” Jake replied with a shrug, a mischievous glint in his eye, as though the universe’s latest trick was a mere inconvenience.

You stared at the solid door, then at him, the absurdity of the situation sinking in. “We are not spending the night trapped in here,” you insisted, but the flare of worry in your voice betrayed you.

“Yup,” Jake said, settling in with a familiar ease. “Stuck. Probably a timed lock, or maybe we’re just cursed.” He grinned and pulled a plaid blanket from one of the decoration boxes, shaking it free of dust like he was settling in for a cosy evening.

You sighed deeply, arms crossed. “We’ve already survived a scavenger hunt, a fake kiss, and each other. How hard can one night be?” Jake seemed to be enjoying this far too much, and the thought both irked and amused you.

He tossed the blanket onto a pile of bean bags with a carefree air, lounging back as if the building were his own personal retreat. “Famous last words.”

The fluorescent lights buzzed above as you paced near the community centre doors, phone held high in a futile attempt to find service. No bars. Of course.

Jake was already lounging on a pile of bean bags like this was a five-star ski lodge. “You’d think a place with twelve types of hot cocoa would have decent Wi-Fi.”

You shot him a look. “You could help me figure out how to get us out of here.”

He held up a tangled string of Christmas lights. “Hey, I’m being useful. Festive, even.”

You sighed and slid down against the wall, finally letting yourself feel how exhausted you were. From the hunt. From the week. From pretending like none of this affected you.

Jake eventually sat beside you, leaving just enough space between you for plausible deniability. The silence stretched, but it wasn’t awkward. Not exactly.

Then, softly: “You’re really good at this, you know.”

You glanced over. “At scavenger hunts?”

“At… making everything feel like Christmas. Like it matters.”

You looked away, throat tightening. “It does matter. Especially when things feel like they’re falling apart.”

Jake hesitated, then nodded. “So, your mum—was she the reason you love Christmas so much?”

Your fingers fiddled with the corner of your sleeve. “She made it feel like magic. Like, we could pause real life for a few days and just… breathe. Laugh. Eat too much. Watch movies on the couch.”

He was quiet, then asked, “What about your dad?”

You stiffened. “He wasn’t really around. Not much before. Even less after.”

Jake’s expression shifted, like he understood too late how close to the bone his earlier comment had been.

You added, with a bitter laugh, “It’s fine. I just learned to take care of everything myself. Made a plan. Stuck to it. At least if something went wrong, I’d only have myself to blame.”

He nodded slowly, voice low. “That explains a lot, actually.”

You turned to him. “Yeah? Like what?”

He met your gaze. “Like why you try to make everything perfect for everyone else. Why you can’t stand letting go of control. You think if you hold it all together, nobody else has to feel what you felt.”

Silence. It was too true.

And then—because he was still him—he added gently, “It’s kind of exhausting to watch, but… also kinda incredible.”

You laughed once, surprised, unsure. “Thanks?”

He nudged your shoulder with his. “You’re welcome.”

Somewhere in the storage closet, an old stereo clicked on. A scratchy rendition of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” floated into the room.

Jake stood and held out a hand. “C’mon. One dance. For our scavenger hunt win.”

You hesitated, but your hand found his. He pulled you in gently, his touch warm and steady, the soft hum of music wrapping around you both.

“I still think you’re a control freak,” he whispered.

“I still think you’re a cocky jerk,” you replied, but there was a smile in your voice now.

“Then we’re even.”

As you danced in the empty community centre, surrounded by fairy lights and half-hung wreaths, it felt—for a brief, breathless moment—like maybe things didn’t have to go according to plan to be perfect.

Jake shifted on the beanbag, the one he’d dragged over beside, where you’d eventually fallen asleep. The twinkling Christmas lights cast a soft glow over the room. It should’ve felt ridiculous—being trapped overnight in a glorified holiday craft storage unit—but it didn’t.

It felt… kind of perfect.

He watched the rise and fall of your breathing, the way your hand rested protectively over that worn planner even in sleep. Always planning. Always bracing.

He hadn’t meant to hit a nerve earlier. He really hadn’t. That quip about being raised by the military? God, what a dumbass thing to say. But it was how you were sometimes—so tight-laced he couldn’t tell if you were about to bark orders or have a breakdown. He used to find it funny. But now?

Now he got it.

You had to grow up too fast. You were holding the damn world together with glitter glue and to-do lists and pretending like you weren’t terrified of everything falling apart again.

And maybe what gutted him most was how good you were at hiding it. Until you weren’t. Until tonight.

Jake rubbed a hand over his face, his heart doing something weird in his chest he didn’t want to analyse too hard. He was supposed to be the flirty one. The funny one. The guy you didn’t take seriously.

But now, all he could think about was how fragile your voice sounded when you talked about your mum. How fiercely you tried to protect everyone else from chaos because no one had done the same for you.

And how maybe—just maybe—he didn’t want to be the guy you laughed at any more.

He wanted to be the guy who got to see the real you. The girl who danced in the dark when no one was watching. The girl who remembered every little thing that made the holidays special. The one who’d built her own kind of magic out of loss.

Jake leaned his head back, staring up at the ceiling tiles.

“You’re screwed, Seresin,” he whispered to himself, letting out a small laugh. “So screwed.”

But he didn’t move. He just sat there, in the glow of paper snowflakes and tangled tinsel, listening to the soft rhythm of your breathing.

And for once, he didn’t feel like running.

A/N: Hey.... so I know christmas mood is way over, heck even valentines, but I do want to finish this story for you guys. and I apologize I havent updated, my life has been a bit crazy not going to lie and ive gone through some big changes and stuff. But yeah, hope you guys still like this story and are interested in it. Again thank you all for your support and love.