#people buying you things was something they had over your head

[floylia]

# MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE ⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾

18. It means, my dear sister 💌

Spending money becomes a hobby when it doesn’t come out of your pockets.

“So what are you thinking of buying him?” You ask while sipping a bubble tea–the very drink that caused your descent into a comfortable pile of pillows.

Thoma runs a hand through his golden hair before scanning the clothing racks, “That’s why you’re here because, I have no idea.”

“And I’m supposed to know?”

He stops in his tracks, tilts his head, and squints. You can’t tell what he’s thinking. You always can–Thoma is an open book, but something about his gaze makes you uneasy. He takes a sip of his drink and shrugs, “Two heads are better than one.”

You sigh and it’s not a breath of relief, “How about clothes?”

Thoma shakes his head in disapproval as he feels the fabric of a navy blue polo, “He has more luxury brands than I can count.” That’s not surprising considering the car Childe owns or the clothes he wears in his posts. You can tell he comes from a wealthy family both in love and money.

“Did you ask him what he wants?”

Thoma looks at you as if you were a failed experiment he had the consequence of cleaning after–synonymous with the expression he gives you every day so it’s no different, just exaggerated, “If he told me, I wouldn’t be here. He said, “Surprise me,” With what? A successful talking stage? A therapist?”

You chuckled, recalling the conversation you had a few hours ago. You surmise that the ginger is more of a provider than a receiver. Perhaps in all context, “I bet he’d like anything you give him.”

“He would. He’s like a golden retriever on crack. He’s a dumbass, but he’s funny so it cancels out. It reminds me of a time when he was practicing in the gym for a swim competition—and a girl walked in looking for something. He thought she was pretty so he started acting cool but in the locker room there was a huge rat and he came out screaming, “I’m not a pervert.”

You giggle with your brother whose head is thrown back from a fit of laughter. His free hand hovered over his stomach and his face was bright tomato. You recall the day it happened–how gorgeous Childe looked in the water and how silly he seemed running out for help. That was a throwback.

“That’s insane.”

He nods aggressively while catching his breath, trying to form the right words without coughing, “Exactly, but I think he’s hung up on that girl.”

“Really?” You act surprised.

“I just have a hunch.”

“Does he like that girl?” Maybe you shouldn’t have pressed. But when Childe is the subject of conversation you seem to want more, to know more, to see more.

Your brother thinks. You know that expression too well. Something he does as a habit every time he’s being witty, thinking of trouble, or giving you the best advice your parents couldn’t compare to. Finally, he finds his thoughts, “I’m not sure, he has a habit of getting attached and disconnecting. It’s happened before–multiple times.”

“Oh.”

The thing about the English language or any language for that matter is that there are words used interchangeably depending on the tone one uses–either surprise, disappointment, or disgust.

And the thing about Thoma is that he reads people, especially those he holds dear.

“But with her…” He begins, “It’s different. The way he talks about her is the same as when he talks about swimming–You can see the passion.”

That comforts you. It gives you hope, but too much of it is dangerous. Childe is a book everyone discusses with praise and you want to know why but a part of you dreads that once you do, you won’t like the ending. That you’ll be disappointed with the money and time you spent because the hype wasn’t for you.

But curiosity is human greed. And Childe is a conversation you want to have, “What does he say about her?”

“Why do you want to know?”

Because I’m scared of being disappointed again.

“I’m just curious—you made him sound like a playboy. Maybe the girl needs to be warned.”

“It’s not like he’s a bad guy. I just don’t want him or her to get hurt. Relationships aren’t easy—you know that.”

“What if…” You start, already regretting the question in your head. But Thoma looks at you expectantly, urging you to continue, “I started seeing someone like him… what would you say?”

“I’d say fuck him.”

“I’ve been trying to.”

He shoves you out of the store and you almost stumble next to a person.

“I’m joking! Give me a serious answer then.”

He crosses his arms and squints his eyes before raising a brow, “Why? Who’s this guy? What’s his name?”

You give him a look.

He matches it but he gives in, “Someone like Childe? There’s no one like him. As much as I shit on him, he has a good character, and I respect that. So I’d say unless you’re bringing the real one, don’t come home at all.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means, my dear sister…” Thoma opens his mouth then shuts it close only to shake his head as if constricting himself, “Don’t worry about it.”

“What?”

He shrugs and says nothing more.

You follow your brother, pushing back the conversation you had despite the questions ramming your head every thirty seconds.

But when you pass by a cosmetic store, a new thought comes to mind.

“You should buy him skin care.”

NOTES:

👀👀 i’m on a roll with these updates

SYNOPSIS: There’s a line Childe knows he shouldn’t cross; A line built on years of friendship; A line that happens to cross you, his best friend’s younger sister, grieving her first love; A line where he plays savior, wears a halo, then feign ignorance, because love is a game for fools—and he happens to be the biggest idiot when it comes to love.

When a new stranger invades your life and an old poet writes back

CHILDE x FEM!READER

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[ikykwklk-ash]

"Like a K-Drama"

Pairing: Lee Felix x fem!reader

W/c: 3150

Synopsis: as you leave the library you bump into a guy who helps you up and buys you a coffee to apologize. maybe you're in love? or maybe you're just friends?

thanks @thomlugaro26 for reading the 300 betas

You are in the library, and you are taking notes on what you are studying in the notebook next to the book. In your headphones you are listening to quiet music, like Wave To Earth, Bibi and Suggi, you are not aware of people entering and leaving the place. You are in your own world. Lost in studying and relaxing. You discovered this library a few weeks ago, it is somewhat hidden among the big buildings of the city. The first time you saw it you didn't even think it was a library, it seemed to be more like a bookshop, so you went in thinking of buying some new book, but as soon as you were inside you were enveloped in a warm silence. An old woman at the counter smiles at you and whispers a lively good morning. You have simply decided to browse the shelves a bit, look at what books are there and whether it is a possible place for a future. So, this routine started. You go to university, attend your lectures, come home, eat and then go to this library hidden from the world and stay there until it closes. You usually take a break in the middle of the day to stretch your bones and have a cold American in the bar next to the building, then return to study.

And indeed, you have just got up to go for your usual walk, you are walking towards the exit with your headphones on connected and 'Underwater' by Elephant Gym playing in your ears, only something is wrong as planned and if one moment you were walking, the next you find yourself sitting on the floor without know how this could have happened.

You look up, blink slightly to focus your vision: in front of you there is a boy with the long blond hair, freckles scattered all over the face seem to glow under the sun's rays that through the large window of the building, he too fell to the ground from the heavy impact; he has glasses hanging slightly from the nose and with a quick movement pulls them up and simultaneously settles a few strands of hair that had slipped from his half-tail.

“Oh God I'm so sorry...” you open your eyes wide, amazed, at the deep tone of your voice, not expecting such a low tone from such a sweet face.

"D-don't worry! Are you OK? You've fallen too"

The blond smiles warmly and nods “Don't worry, I'm not hurt, I'm Felix anyway”.

"O-oh, it's Y/N, I really hope you're not hurt."

"Y/N don't worry, I'm not hurt! In fact, as an apology can I buy you a coffee at the café nearby?"

You think about it for a moment and then nod, pick up your things that were still on the floor and slip them into your canvas bag. You start walking towards the library exit as Felix smiles at you and then looks at the drawing on your bag: an open blue videotape on the left and three rectangles on the right, "Do you listen to Wave To Earth?" you ask with eyes wide open.

"Um... yes, do you know them?" you ask surprised.

"Of course! I just finished listening to the new album, they're great!"

Your smile widens even more as you nod "It's true, I don't know how to explain what I feel every time that I listen to them, by the way listening to their music helps me concentrate better and the new album is something of mysticism!"

"Oh my God, I absolutely agree. Besides, with the new album they really outdid themselves, I don't know how to explain to people how I feel every time I hear 'are you bored?' or even 'slow diva'. I love them."

While talking about the new album and which song you like best, you arrive at the bar and Felix holds the door open for your glass, you thank him with a nod of the head as you finish telling how you started listening to the Wave to Earth and sit down at a table.

"Um, so what are you having?" asks Felix as he looks at the menu.

"I think I'll have the iced American and um... a chocolate muffin, you?" you say after giving a quick read through the menu, even though by now you knew it by heart after all the times you had entered that pretty little café in pastel green and pink.

“I think I'll have a milkshake and a pistachio croissant”, he says, smiling sweetly. After a few minutes, the waiter arrives to ask for orders: "Hi guys, what can I get you?"

"Hi Jack, for me the usual and for Felix a milkshake and a pistachio cornetto. Are you in the room today?" he asks, smiling at the boy standing next to your table. He snorts in amusement and answers you affirmatively, then turns around and goes to deliver orders to the counter.

"Do you come here often?" asks Felix.

“Um yes, since I discovered the library, the café has become my second favourite place. I have started coming here so many times that at one point I made friends with everyone, even the owners”, you laugh as you look around, scanning every corner of the room.

While waiting for your orders, you start talking about more and less, beginning to discover little things about each other.

"FELIIIIIIIX" shouts, at one point, a voice from the other end of the room; the boy turns around and sees himself coming a colourful blur at full speed, jumping on his legs to embrace him.

"Jisungie!" Felix mirrors the newly arrived boy's happiness, while you smile slightly at that scene, then comes the realisation and you look at Felix with mild shock.

"Hello Lixie, hello Y/N-ie," said a calmer voice behind you, you turn around and see Minho looking at you with a slight smile and a beige apron with cats drawn on it.

"Oh? Do you know each other?" you ask Felix.

He nods and explains that Jisung is his roommate and best friend and together they are the ‘Sunshine Twins', and consequently knows Minho because he is Jisung's boyfriend and is now in their flat 24 hours a day, seven days a week.

You laugh at the situation you found yourself in, while Jisung and Minho take two chairs from the table next to each other and bring them closer to you by sitting down.

All four of you start chatting together while you and Felix sip the drinks you have ordered. You talk about more and less; you get to know Felix more and he begins to get to know you. It is a game of glances, of new words, of small gestures that make you think 'oh wow'. Minho and Jisung tell funny anecdotes about the blondie, and you laugh out loud. You begin to appreciate the company of the boy, observe how the rays of light shine on his face, how his freckles become light up every time one of those golden rays falls, gently, on them. Notice the lightness of his touch in everything he does, how he arranges unruly strands of hair behind his ears. How he listens carefully to what Jisung has to say, how he responds to Minho's stories...

The hours pass in that small pastel-coloured bar, they pass so quickly that you do not realise that it is now closing time, until Minho gets up and says: “I must close the bar now, I'm sorry. Felix can accompany you to your home, it's too late for you to go out alone Y/N”.

And you gladly accept Minho's proposal, because Felix smiles at you and makes you feel safe. You step outside the bar, breathing in the summer air of early September, the blond boy accompanies you through the narrow streets of the city until you get to your flat. Before leaving, however, Felix asks you for the phone number and you smile and give it to him. Then you say goodbye with a promise to see each other again one of these days.

You enter the house, your face aches from how much you are smiling, the mirror in the hallway reveals your red cheeks, maybe that's why you feel so hot.

Days pass, you and Felix start going out more often, your phone starts to have more notifications to read: your chat is full of messages, memes, tiktok links, funny tweets, instagram posts and sometimes even tumblr. You come to realise that l, indeed, feel strong feelings for the blond boy. Every time a message from him arrives, you find yourself smiling, blushing and giggling like a young girl struggling with her first love. You are always faced with the lost library, enter together after a brief greeting and look for the most hidden place inside, then sit down and start studying or reading new books. Take a break when one of you can no longer sit, get up and go to Minho and Jisung's bar, take your usual order and you chat amongst yourselves, sometimes the two owners of the bar join in your conversations. Then you return to the library to continue studying.

Today is no different, you have just come out of the library at the end of the day and Felix asks if he can accompany you to your home, you nod in affirmation and as you speak your shoulders begin to touch each other, hands brushing. Oh, you are so hopelessly in love with this blond boy that you have met by chance. By now you spend your days thinking about him, writing to him, drawing little hearts on papers scattered, on desks, wherever a pencil or pen might leave trails of graphite or ink.

Arriving at the door of your flat, Felix smiles at you with that smile made of sunshine, which makes one feel at home, protected. "He is beautiful," you think.

"T-thank you, you look beautiful too," says the blond, his cheeks dusted with a light red. You fucking said out loud. Then, slowly, you realise the compliment and blush. You lower your gaze in embarrassment while giving a shy smile.

Felix chuckles and comes closer, slowly wrapping you in an embrace, almost asking permission to touch you.

Stand there shifting your weight from one foot to the other, holding each other close. Enjoying the warmth that a hug can give. No matter what is going on around you, the important thing is that you are with him, that you are together. Him and his blond hair. Him and his freckles are made of starlight. Him and his smile warmth that makes you melt every time you see him. Him and his heat. Feel your legs of jelly when you are away from each other. You don't know if you can still stand, you feel you could fall at any moment to the other by how much your legs tremble with the love and affection you feel for him.

Eventually, you say goodbye, deciding to see each other again the next day, and when you see him coming down the stairs you lean against the wall with a sigh. A sigh and a smile on his face, his cheeks warm, his eyes shining for love.

You enter your flat, hang up your jacket and take off your shoes, throwing them randomly into the shoe rack. You sit down on the sofa of your small three-room apartment and look outside, enjoying the last lights of the day filtering through the window and thinking back to Felix and his arms around your body. You don't want to forget the feeling of light touch on your hips, you don't want to forget the warm breath tickling your neck, you don't want to forget the gentle rocking on your feet as you enjoy each other's presence. Hold those feelings for as long as possible, while you prepare your dinner, while you put on your pajamas and while you go to bed, write him a goodnight message and make sure he gets home safely, as you fall asleep.

The next day you wake up, think back to the hug and smile like you never did before. 'Fuck Y/N, it's just a hug, pull yourself together for God's sake' you think after a first moment. You sigh and get out of bed. You look at the alarm clock that says 7 a.m., get ready for university, have breakfast and then leave the house. Your phone vibrates for a notification

"Good morning Y/N ( ^_^ / ) "

"Good morning Lix ( ^ 3 ^ )"

You smile, you smile so much that an old woman looks at you strangely, but you don't care because She was probably the same when she received a letter from the person she was in love with.

You exchange messages until you enter the classroom, and the teacher starts the lesson. For all lessons all you do is think about the fact that you will see Felix again today, you are so distracted that you don't even realise that classes are over until one of your classmates asks you if you are okay. You smile and nod at him as you get up and run outside.

You meet at the entrance to the library, she smiles at you and the sun shines on her face and her blond hair, you meet and hold you in an embrace. After detaching yourself, you enter the library and sit down at your usual hidden place. You spend a couple of hours studying in that library, cast glances at each other and smile fleetingly in the silent space of books. When you decide to take a break, you get up and head for the bars of Minho and Jisung. As you walk Felix takes your hand and intertwines it with his, his palm is warm, it is comfortable. You arrive at the bar and go in, sit down and order the usual things.

The day progresses, you laugh together with the two bar owners, return to the library and study. When you see that it is starting to get dark outside, you get up and put your things away. Leaving the library Felix asks if he can drive you home and you gladly accept, walking in silence for most of time, occasionally chatting and smiling at each other.

"Y/N..."

"Yes?"

"Can I talk to you?"

You stop near a park and look at him, hesitantly nodding and smiling to go forward, Felix looks at you, takes a deep breath and mutters, blinks a couple of times.

"I did not understand"

Felix's cheeks dusted with red under the dim light of the streetlamps, he lowered his gaze shyly and whispered "I've liked you ever since we bumped into each other in the library..."

Your face starts to warm up and you look at Felix with your lips slightly open, your smile widens like this so much so that your face muscles ache, you approach the boy in front of you and slowly take his hand, he looks up at you and you whisper, “I like you too, ever since we started talking”. You stop for a moment and wait for the guy to realise your words, and when his eyes open wide, you continue "There was a precise moment when I realised I liked you. You were talking to Jisung, I don't know what about, and a ray came through the bar window and hit your perfect freckles, and your face lit up so much... for a moment I thought the Sun had come straight into the bar. The only thing I was thinking while you were talking to Jisung is that you were beautiful and that your freckles remind me of the constellations," you whisper softly, as if it were a secret that only the two of you could know. You whisper softly because, if you could, you would shout it to the whole world, you would shout how the boy's freckles are so beautiful, how much you love to see her warm smile and how her hugs make you feel good.

Felix looks at you with wide eyes and smiles at you so much that you are afraid he will get facial paralysis, you he comes even closer and with a delicate touch, as if he were holding a glass vase subtle, he takes your face, his gaze travelling from your eyes to your lips

"Can I kiss you?"

"Yes"

The boy comes even closer to you and tilts his head slightly, his lips brush against yours, your noses touching each other lightly. Your eyes close when he kisses you. It is such a gentle kiss; it makes you feel loved and protected. His lips are warm against yours; they taste like strawberries thanks to the lip balm that Felix spreads every so often. His hands fall on your hips, and you encircle his neck with your arms, drawing him closer. When you pull away to catch your breath, Felix smiles and takes you by the hand, his eyes meet yours and his cheeks turn red, highlighting her freckles.

"Would you like to be my girlfriend?"

"Yes"

He kisses you again and again, then takes you by the hand and you walk towards Jisung and Minho's bar.

When you enter, Minho is at the counter preparing a customer's order, while Jisung is serving at a table. Minho briefly looks up when he hears the bell ring, his eyes are pointed at your hands entwined together and a smile breaks out on his face. He makes a movement with his head to a vacant table a little apart from the others. You sit and wait for your usual orders to arrive.

Don't wait long really, Jisung arrived with the smoothie for Felix and your coffee, placed them on the table and sat in the chair opposite yours, Minho arrived shortly afterwards and continued to observe. Jisung took a deep breath and smiled at you. He did not ask any questions, just looked at you and waited. Felix laughed slightly and began to recount everything that had happened in the park, you smiled and nodded, occasionally adding some details. The day ends like this, Felix accompanies you to your flat, you say goodbye, you kiss, and you decide to go out the next day as a date. When you go in you take off your shoes and put them in the usual place, you smile all the time as you get ready for bed, memories hovering before your eyes, the taste of his lips that you can still taste on yours, the warmth of his hands on your hips that still hovers around you. Smile even when you lie in bed and close your eyes.

[spacequokka]

With a Note (I Meant It)

Pairing: Mingi x Reader Genre: f2l, second chance Rating: G Summary: You run into an old friend on your way back home. Word Count: 1.2k Warnings: mentions of underage drinking (wine coolers, which is a no no)

A/N: Last one for the event! I tried to make the song harder to guess. Thanks for reading and happy holidays! <3

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. This is a flight delay announcement for flight 118 to Seoul. We regret to inform you that due to the weather, we're expecting a delay of approximately eight hours. We apologize for any inconvenience this may cause and we appreciate your patience and understanding…"

You stopped listening as the other passengers seated around you groaned and complained. It was Christmas Eve, and after the flight being delayed for the third time, you were at the stage of acceptance. Maybe you should've booked the flight months in advance instead of last minute. Or chose a different company. Honestly, it wouldn't have mattered much since it'd snow no matter what and the likelihood of being stranded at the airport was a given.

Eight hours.

The terminal was buzzing with families reuniting and friends celebrating, while you sat alone nursing a cup of lukewarm coffee. You contemplating buying overpriced fast food when you heard your name. You turned your head and gaped when you saw the man's face.

"Mingi?"

"It is you!" He took the seat across from you. "I thought I saw you earlier but I figured my glasses were smudged up or something." He licked his lips and took a breath. "Are you heading to Seoul, too?"

You nodded. "I really thought I'd avoid being stuck here all night."

He smiled bashfully. "I was supposed to catch an earlier flight but got held up with work. My mom's gonna strangle me when—no, if—I get there. She kept telling me to fly out before the snowstorm hit."

"At least someone had some sense. I didn't really give it much thought when I bought the ticket." You pushed your cup around on the table.

Mingi stretched his long legs out accidentally brushing against yours. Mischief sparkled in those warm brown eyes as he pulled out his cell phone and a bag of chips. The last time you'd seen him had been your high school graduation when things got weird and you both drifted apart. It was weird seeing him now, acting as if he didn't avoid you that summer before going off to college. Did he not remember?

"Want some?" He held out a bag of honey butter chips, his silver rings catching the fluorescent light.

What kind of mind game was he playing? "Thanks." You reached for the bag, your fingers brushing accidentally. Just like old times, except nothing was like old times anymore.

You munched on the chips quietly as people filled and left the terminal, coming to see that their flights had also been canceled then going off to find food or a place to stay for the night.

"I wonder if it'd be better to get a hotel room." He mused aloud.

You shook your head. "There's a convention going on. Every place is fully booked through to New Year's. Anything you find will be far out and you might not make it back here in time for your flight. Then your mom'll kill you for sure."

He barked out a laugh. "You're right." He fiddled with his phone, turning it over and over before asking suddenly, "Remember when we used to stay up until three in the morning? You'd always fall asleep on the phone and I'd have to wake you up so you'd put your phone on the charger."

You smiled despite yourself. "You weren't much better. You'd fall asleep mid-sentence then insist you weren't snoring."

"Yeah, but I had a good reason. I didn't want to hang up." His voice got softer, more serious. "I wrote you a letter senior year."

Your heart stopped. "What?"

He nodded. "I wanted to give it to you that morning before the graduation ceremony but I thought it might ruin what should be a happy day for you." He ran a hand over his white beanie and tugged at it. "So, I slipped it in your purse at Wooyoung's party that night. Blue envelope. You never said anything so I guess…I guess you never found it?"

The memory hit you like a thunderbolt—getting home slightly buzzed from wine coolers, digging through your purse, finding a blue envelope with smeared ink illegible in the dim light of your bedside lamp. You'd thrown it away without a second thought then passed out the second you touched your bed.

"Mingi, I—"

"It's okay," he cut in quickly. "It was a long time ago." He adjusted his glasses. "But being stuck here with you…maybe it's a sign or something." He laughed, but it sounded shaky. "Wanna hear what it said?"

The airport speakers crackled with another delay announcement, but you barely heard it. In that moment, it was just the two of you—Mingi with his gentle smile and nervous hands, you and your heart doing backflips in your chest.

"Tell me," you whispered.

He took a deep breath. "Why is everything so effortless with you? Smiling, laughing, being happy. You're the first thought in the morning and the last one when I fall asleep. I know our plans for life are taking us in different directions, but I want you to know that I'll think of you constantly. Is that love? If so, I love you more than I can express. One day, if you'll let me, I hope to stay by your side not as a friend but as someone you love in return." He looked you in the eyes. "When you didn't call or even text me, I figured you read it but didn't feel the same. I was a little dumb back then. Avoiding you so you wouldn't have to let me down easy. Then sometime in my sophomore year in college I realized I'd rather you tell me you didn't feel the same over never knowing how you felt about me…Then Yunho asked me if I was sure you'd read it." His expression turned to embarrassment. "So I asked around if you'd said anything about a letter to anyone and no one could recall you talking about it."

"I was a mess when I got home that night! I couldn't read the words on it and threw it away. By the time I woke up, I forgot all about it. I'm so sorry!"

He nodded with a chuckle. "That's way better than what I imagined." He reached out and touched your hand. "It's okay, though. Really. And I'm sorry for letting us drift apart without telling you why. Feels like I wasted a lot of time, like I missed out on a lot of important moments in your life."

Melancholy wasn't a word you'd ever associated with Mingi and you weren't going to start doing it now. You squeezed his hand. "Then we'll make sure you don't miss anything else from now on. Okay?" You pushed away from the table and stood up. "Come on, I need to get you a Christmas present."

[acid-nation]

warnings: gn/afab reader, office workers au, everyone is aged up 21+, power imbalance dynamics (toji is your boss), alcohol consumption, piss kink, wetting yourself, public urination, fingering, degradation, a lot of shame and embarrassment, mentions of classic japanese work culture

note: happy birthday toji the love of my life!!! my hc is he turns 47 this year :) old baby man this fic isnt beta read so apologies for any mistakes or whatever but please mind the tags! ♥

18+ minors and ageless blogs dni you will be blocked

"Can you take another?" Your boss, Toji asks with a fresh glass of booze waving in front of your face. Despite your churning stomach and blurred vision, you nod and take the drink.

When compared to other bosses you've worked for, Mr. Fushiguro isn't nearly as strict or serious in or out of the office. He's pretty lax about most things and creates a fresh work environment in the office — you love working for him, but that doesn't mean you're going to let go of all your formal training. At the end of the day, Toji is still your boss, and if he offers you the drinks other coworkers are buying for him, you take them with a smile despite it all.

The company had offered to pay for everyone's food and drinks to celebrate Obon in the short, mandatory holiday your office is given. Initially the plan was dinner and a couple of drinks, nothing too serious and definitely not an event that would bleed into the early hours of the morning. Despite missing the last train home, all your coworkers slowly tapped out through the night, sipping on the final drink Toji was bought when the last guest of your party leaves the bar.

Not long after do you both leave for the next bar on his agenda, something about watered down drinks; of which he hasn't actually drank himself. The peak summer air doesn't hit you as hard as it should, but it's enough to have you losing your balance only slightly when you step onto the uneven path.

Toji chuckles, a hand hovering over you, ready to catch you if you stumble but you're determined to maintain your composure. "You should go back to a hotel and call it there, you pounded a few drinks tonight."

You shake your head and grow dizzier from the action, inhaling deeply. When you offer your boss your best, most professional and sober smile, he grins. "I'm good." You say through a mouth of cotton. "Unless you want to go to your hotel — by yourself, I mean."

Raising an eyebrow at you, his grin widens and the scar on the corner of his lip stretches. He's so handsome and mysterious, you always wonder how or why he became the manager of your little team. As far as you know he doesn't have any familial ties to the company, he just fell into the position. While in your own head pondering Toji's existence, he had already set off down the street.

This part of Tokyo is much quieter than the main cities — much less expensive too. Toji had bartered with finance on where to eat since the company was being cheap, but the food was quite nice considering. It's a change in atmosphere from the bustling nightlife of Shinjuku or Shibuya. There aren't people sleeping on the streets or harassing police who patrol the area.

As quiet as it is, you're still unsure when your boss turns into a dark alleyway. It doesn't take long for him to realise you're not following him, standing on the edge of the streetlight, yellow frames his sharp features in a way that makes your mouth water.

"Come on, this way is faster." When you don't start following him, Toji steps forward. "Are your legs not working anymore? This isn't the office, that excuse isn't going to work."

You take a step back and bite the inside of your lip to hold back a pout. Maintaining professionalism when you're drunk is harder than it seems.

"It's…Dark."

Toji laughs, so loud it echoes off of the walls of the abandoned buildings he's stood between. "How about I protect you? You're safe with me." He smiles and you can't help but feel at ease. "I can't lose my best employee or else the team would collapse."

All you can muster is a giggle in response but begin to follow anyway. You trust your boss wouldn't let any harm befall you, best employee or not.

The alleyway is dark and disgusting, tucked away from any kind of life, it's just you and Toji. Streetlights peek in between the buildings the further you traverse down the path, only hearing the buzz of your veins in your eardrums and Toji's groan under his breath.

"Should've used the bathroom before we came out."

"The next bar isn't that far, is it?"

Toji doesn't answer but in the lowlights of the alley, you turn to see your boss pissing against the wall of a building. You jump and make an involuntary noise of surprise, embarrassed at what you'd just witnessed and turning away. The visual of your drunken boss leaning his forearm against the wall, forehead resting on the wall looking down at himself, hand on his soft cock with piss streaming out will forever be burned in your memories.

He groans and sighs in relief, continuing the steady stream that it sounds like he'd been holding for a while. The noise of his urinating sets off your bladder too, suddenly deciding you are ready to join him.

No, you tell yourself. You'll be a decent human being and wait rather than peeing in public — no matter the darkness or the privacy, you would never do such a disgusting and trashy thing in front of your boss.

"If you need to go too," Toji starts as he shakes himself dry and tucks his cock back into his pants, "Here's your chance 'cos the next bar is pretty far."

You do need to go and the more you think about it, the worse your bladder becomes. Holding onto your pride, you tilt your chin up and hum. "No, I can wait."

He laughs and you feel his presence behind you. "I won't look if you do, promise."

"I am not going to pee in an alley in front of my boss." You balk, turning around to face him and trying not to think about his piss.

"I'm drunk enough not to remember it…maybe, probably."

With a huff, you mumble "I'm still not doing it." And begin walking again, even if going to the bathroom and relieving yourself has become all you can think about.

Walking slowly, you try to concentrate on how not full your bladder is, on how nice Toji's piss sounded hitting the wall or his sighs of relief as he let himself go. You feel so full in a way that's not at all how you want and you're beginning to sweat in the muggy Japanese heat. Still on edge with your need to pee and maintaining a level of respect and professionalism with your boss, you jump and almost let yourself go when Toji hisses in your ear. Laughing at you, he teases with the sound of a running stream to encourage you.

"Don't…!" You start and cut yourself off, composing yourself while Toji grins all smug with an empty bladder. "Let's go to the next bar if it's far. It's too hot and gross out here. Please."

Your manners are slipping with each passing moment that your boss's cock is in your head. What if he remembers this and fires you? Maybe all of this was a test to see how you'd react, encouraging you to piss even within earshot so he can fire you for inappropriate actions.

Except when you began to walk again, Toji used his arm to intercept you and trap you against the wall. You moved quickly to avoid his touch — more out of politeness than rejection — caged between his arms on either side of your head. He's so much taller than you, bigger and buff he makes you feel like a little mouse.

It's so strangely intimate and inappropriate, your clit is beginning to throb with your swollen bladder. Needing to pee and growing horny is an odd combo.

"If you need to go," Your boss whispers in your face, "Then you should go while you can."

The strange combination of warm spice and alcohol is attacking your brain in a way that's so very unfair. It reminds you of work, stepping into Toji's office. The scent also reminds you of a long term lover storing their cologne in your bathroom, a homely reminder that sets your mind at ease.

Swallowing thick and trying to clear your head, you respond, "It would be inappropriate for me to do such a thing. I'm not a drunken slob."

You say, slurring every word.

He laughs. "Squat and piss for me right now." Toji's tone lowers, growing darker and your clit vibrates harder. "I'm your boss, aren't I? You'd listen to anything I tell you to do."

Looking up at him with almost wet, pleading eyes, you silently beg for mercy. Your bladder grows weaker with each passing moment, unable to stop yourself from thinking about peeing. The sweet relief every other time you've urinated, how shameful it would be to piss in front of him — you don't even consider the reason why he's poking and prodding you about going.

Toji grins, something so wicked and devious, it makes you forget this is your boss and not a hot guy you fell into at the bar. The last thing you want to do is disappoint your boss but it's clear the manipulation tactic he's using, though the power he wields over you is doing unspeakable things to your clit. He has the power to fire you at the flick of a wrist, to make sure you never work in Tokyo ever again, and you wonder if he will do exactly that if you do or don't do as he says.

Bladder so full, you sweat bullets as Toji continues teasing you. "You had a lot of drinks since I last saw you use the bathroom — that was a couple of bars ago, yeah? You're probably full to bursting."

To emphasise his point, your boss presses his fingers into your stomach, poking around to find your swollen and urine filled bladder. It's such an inappropriate and intimate act, your boss should never be touching you like this even as a joke, yet you find yourself almost wishing he would find it. Each press of his fingers over your shirt sends shocks of excitement throughout your body, as though his body was made of electricity. You wish he would touch you skin to skin, rub his hands over your stomach and really take his time trying to find the perfect spot to press.

When he finds your sensitive organ, you squirm and involuntarily cry out at the pressure. Toji grins, "I'm just trying to look after you." His voice is low; hot, alcoholic breath hitting your lips and you wish to devour the taste. "Be a good worker and make sure you relieve yourself when you need to."

He continues poking your bladder, savouring your whines and gasps before the same hand finds its way beneath the waistband of your pants. It's all too much; trying to focus on not pissing yourself, the distracting thump of your clit with arousal, alcohol swirling in your veins and the spinning of your head. Toji's hand moves so fast in your pants, snaking down beneath your underwear in the tight space and carefully sliding between your folds to find your clit. The skin-to-skin contact makes your legs tremble and when his fingertips prod your swollen bud, you can't hold back anymore.

You release yourself then and there, suddenly sober enough to see the surprise on your boss's face. The sweet relief of your bladder being emptied is almost as good as an orgasm, momentarily embracing the warmth between your legs. For a second, you forget it's piss and not a warm bath you'd sunken into. You keep going and going, there's no way to stop as your pants grow unbearably damp and liquid trickles all the way down your legs, dripping onto the concrete. It's quiet bar your whimpers of relief — you can't bring yourself to look at Toji.

While your empty bladder and throbbing clit with your boss's hand still in your pants is nice, the alcohol seems to hit you again with a fresh wave of embarrassment and shame. Nausea swirls in your gut and you hold back from giving Toji more reasons to fire you; not just fire you, but blast your crimes of disgusting behaviour all over Tokyo. Your family name will forever be tarnished because you don't know how to control yourself, acting like a child soiling themselves in front of your boss. You're ready to hand in your resignation immediately — that, or kill yourself before the sun comes up.

Toji laughs and you still can't bring yourself to look at him. If he hadn't trapped you against the wall with his enormous frame, you'd have run far, far away, never to be seen again. His hand remains in your pants, the heel of his palm pressing against the peak of your lips as his fingers press along your folds, having moved to hit the hot stream of piss coming from you.

"I didn't expect you to piss yourself." Your boss chuckles in disbelief and you wish the ground would collapse beneath you. "You're disgusting."

It's said with a smile, you can hear it but it doesn't soften the blow on your heart — or your clit.

You gasp when his fingers slide inside of you. Two of them at once, thick and stretching you so delicious, you instinctually grab onto Toji's arms for leverage. You're confused; he just called you disgusting, he's laughing at you, why is he continuing to touch you? Instead of running away like you expected, he pushes himself closer to you, trapping you further between his body and the wall. His hips press into yours, his hand still buried in your pants and fingers in your cunt between you, hips flush against yours with his prominent erection prodding you. Toji pants in your ear as he moves in and out of you, dipping his head into the crook of your neck to get as close as he possibly can.

He's…getting off to this? It's hard to make sense of the situation, about anything that's just happened. Forced to piss yourself in an embarrassing act, your reward is being fingered in an alleyway at two in the morning. Still, you cling onto your boss, melting into his touch and allowing yourself to make the most of his generosity.

"So dirty, a filthy bitch." Toji whispers in your ear and you can't help the way your walls tighten in response, thriving off of the degradation. You are a dirty and disgusting bitch. "Would you piss on me again? If I put my cock in your pretty pussy, would you piss all over my thick, hard cock?"

You're breathless from the combination of his fingers and repulsive suggestion. Stars litter your vision and you know it's not from the alcohol. Nodding your head against his shoulder, you hum and whisper a breathy "Yeah."

Toji groans loudly, something from the back of his throat, pulling out before you'd even come close to finishing. Before you have a chance to process anything or maybe run away from shame, he's pulling your feet off the ground and hooking your knees on either side of his hips. The feeling of your slowly cooling piss being forcefully pressed into you by your boss's hips isn't something you ever expected to experience. His hard, clothed cock against your sodden and clothed pussy has you dizzy and drooling, though. Kissing you with desperation, he's all teeth and tongue and alcohol to the point you can hardly breathe. Everything feels like the strangest dream but you aren't complaining in the slightest.

"We're getting a room and some drinks," He demands, just as breathless, "And you can make a mess on my cock."

If you were any more drunk, you'd be convinced you're hallucinating as your boss drags you by your hand out the alleyway, intending to feed you drinks until you piss on him again.

[strawb3rry-saturnzbarz]

☆Lighter Lorenz x Reader★

Summary: Lighter invites you to a New Year’s Day party which sounds like fun… but you were so excited that you completely forgot that one of your biggest triggers will be there.

A/N: I had this idea a few nights ago and HAD to do something with it immediately. I haven’t written since around 2021 so I’m very rusty, bear with me pls (´ ∀｀;)

(I tried to keep this as gender neutral as possible, but there is an instance where Lighter refers to the reader as a girl.)

dividers by @rookthornesartistry

Warnings: mentions of alcohol/drunk people, kissing

Notes: sfw, comfort + reassurance, confessions of feelings

You are currently in Lumina Square running some errands, minding your own business when you hear a familiar voice call out your name.

“Hey, y/n. What brings you here?”

It was Lighter, the man of your silly, lovesick dreams. Ever since you were introduced to the Sons of Calydon, you've struggled to ignore the feelings of attraction he sparked within you. It was completely hopeless; you were absolutely smitten.

Doing your best to ignore the rapid beating in your chest, you tell him you just came to run some quick errands, and he nods his head.

“Ah, same here actually. It’s my turn to get the gang’s groceries this week.” He says, feigning annoyance with an eye roll.

“By the way, if you’re interested…” Lighter starts, adjusting his shades a bit, “the Sons of Calydon are hosting a New Year’s Day party tonight to celebrate the start of another exciting year. There will be drinks, snacks, music, dancing, all the good stuff. You up for it?”

You pause and think. You were never the type to go out and party, but this was a special occasion and you happened to like lighter… a lot.

As long as he’s there, I should have fun, right?

And so of course you agreed to go. Why the hell not?

“Oh, yeah sure!” you bob your head dumbly, the only thought in your mind being how much fun it must be to party and dance with him.

“Great, I look forward to seeing you there.”

Lighter gives you the time and place, giving you a playful fist bump and wishing you safe travels before you both parted ways.

You spend a considerable amount of time making yourself look presentable, showering and putting on a pretty yet still comfortable outfit. While stepping outside to unlock your car, you message Lighter.

“Hey, i’m omw :) meet at the entrance to Blazewood?”

“Sure thing. See you around ;)”

You smile at his message and turn the keys to start the car, all the while imagining the fun you and Lighter will have together. Maybe you’ll share some snacks and chat, perhaps you’ll dance and flirt. All of the possibilities start flooding the forefront of your brain, almost making you loose focus of the road.

Once you arrive and park at the entrance to Blazewood, Lighter spots you walking towards him and waves. He leads you inside, offering an arm out of courtesy which you accept without hesitation. You can’t help the stupid grin that slipped through your lips at his handsome charm.

Once inside, Lighter leads you to a less crowded bar, sitting down beside you and bumping your elbow playfully as he calls the bartender over.

“What do you say y/n, you wanna start with some shots?”

Oh…

You had completely forgotten that you had a strong hatred towards alcohol, not to mention its effects on people. You were so consumed with your own attraction to Lighter that you didn’t even consider the possibility of feeling uncomfortable at the party.

You stumble over your thoughts, trying to form a response instead of leaving him hanging.

Do I lie and have a few? Or just…

“Uh… i’m okay. Sorry… I might just get a soda or something.”

Shit, how embarrassing. The love of your life offered to buy you a drink and all you have to say is no?

Lighter just nods and smiles softly, ordering a soda for you and a beer for himself. He didn’t plan on getting shit-faced drunk, especially with you here to see him, but he wanted to let loose a bit tonight.

You occasionally take small sips of your soda, starting to feel uncomfortable from the already hammered people beginning to crowd the bar. The loud music was becoming increasingly overwhelming, and the smell of beer on everyone’s breaths was not making things any better.

“This was supposed to be fun,” you thought. You came along to dance and have a good time with Lighter, not sit and be overstimulated by the drunk guests’ slurred singing and clumsy stumbling behind you.

“You feeling hungry? Want something to eat?” Lighter asks, leaning a bit closer so you could hear him over the crowd. His voice grounds you to an extent, but you can’t help the consuming feelings of guilt and humiliation building within yourself.

How could you forget about that? Fucking idiot. You’re too in love with him to even think twice.

You shake your head, fiddling with the little aluminum tab on your soda can.

“I’m okay, thank you.” You mutter, disguising your growing discomfort with a feeble smile.

The sounds and smells of the guests around you are becoming even harder to ignore as they call out to the bartender for more shots. The inconsiderate woman in the stool next to you keeps elbowing your arm, and she reeks of beer and cheap perfume, making your nose wrinkle.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

He picks up on your subtle shift in attitude, and swivels his barstool to face you. You are typically happy and talkative towards him, not quiet and withdrawn; if anyone knows when there’s something amiss, it’s Lighter.

“Hey, what’s the matter? You seem a little quiet…” Lighter asks softly, but loud enough for you to hear him, as he places his hand on your shoulder carefully.

And that’s when you crumble. His gentle touch and genuine concern is so touching, and you are so overwhelmed with emotions that they begin spilling out for the whole bar to see. Albeit, most of the guests are too wasted and distracted to notice, but not Lighter.

Fuck, i’ve ruined the whole night. This was supposed to be fun, and I ruined it, all because i’m too fucking naive and infatuated to think before i speak.

By now, Lighter is beyond concerned, setting his drink down to gently take your hands in his.

“Hey it’s okay, look at me…” his voice is so soft, it almost feels like a comforting hug. “Do you want to step outside real quick?”

Great. Now he’s worried and you’re a pitiful, crying mess.

You try looking up at him, but it’s no good; the intense shame and embarrassment of killing the mood keeps your head hanging down. Hiding your face in your hands, you nod your head and cry, mumbling through timid sobs.

“I’m sorry Lighter, I’ve ruined everything…”

He stares at you dumbfounded and worried, trying to decipher what could be going on inside your pretty little mind.

“What do you- Here… let’s go somewhere else for a bit, okay?”

He stands from his barstool and offers you a gloved hand, wrapping his other arm around your shoulder as you walk back to the entrance of Blazewood.

Once you’re far away from the party he sits you down on his parked bike, kneeling down onto his knees as to not tower over you. Carefully, Lighter takes your hands into his and gazes up at you, waiting for anything you may say or do.

“What did you mean? About ruining everything?” His voice was gentle and non-demanding as he watched you patiently.

Through sad hiccups you manage to speak, wiping your face with the back of your hand.

“I wanted to have fun with you at the party, I really did, but I got overwhelmed and ruined everything by crying- I’m sorry Lighter, I-I can’t do it.”

Ah, so you were overwhelmed… that explains why you seemed so zoned out.

His thumbs gently brushed against your knuckles as he murmured words of reassurance. “You haven’t ruined anything. It’s not your fault that you feel overwhelmed, it happens to all of us sometimes yeah?”

“I know, but I should've known what I was getting into.” You sigh and do your best explain your deal with alcohol and how you’ve never enjoyed drinking or watching others drink.

And now it’s Lighter’s turn to feel guilty. He had been sitting there right next to you sipping from his beer the whole time, totally unaware that he was part of the reason you were uncomfortable. His eyes widened slightly as he squeezed your hand apologetically.

“Oh y/n, I had no idea… I’m so sorry if i made you feel uneasy. I would have ordered something else if i had known better…” His grip on your hand loosened as he continued rubbing your knuckles while you cried. “You wouldn’t have hurt my feelings by saying something before the party or by rejecting my offer. Your comfort is my top priority. You know that right?”

Lighter’s words mixed with the soft feeling of his gloves on your skin causes your heart to flutter.

“I know… I was just so excited to come hang out with you that I completely forgot about how I might react to everything.”

Lighter grins, somewhat flattered by your statement. “Well, I’m touched to receive such high praise, but please don’t push yourself for me in the future, alright?”

You nod and sniffle, wiping the last of your remaining tears away. “Okay..”

Lighter raised an eyebrow, knowing well enough that you tend to be a people pleaser, even more so towards those you love. “Promise me?”

“I promise.”

“Atta girl.” He carefully patted your hands as he stood up from the ground, opening his arms hesitantly and offering you a hug.

Closing the distance with a small step, you wrap your arms around his back, his own finding their way around your waist. His thumbs stroked gentle circles on your sides as he held you close, savoring the warmth of your embrace.

“Can I take you to a spot that I like to visit?” His voice was soft and airy against your hair, easing any leftover guilt you may have felt for making him drag you out of the party.

After feeling your short nod against his chest, he eased out of your grip and sat on his motorcycle, patting the seat behind him.

As you swung your leg over the seat and got comfortable, he offered you his helmet. “Here, you need this more than me.”

You smile softly at his consideration for your safety, and with your arms wrapped around his warm body you drove off to his private quiet haven.

The blue night sky was filled with stars, it was absolutely mesmerizing. The further you drove into the countryside, the more hills and trees there were, the soft moonlight hitting each blade of dry grass. Lighter pulled up to a small pond surrounded by trees and tall grass and propped his bike against one of the large trees. It was a remote and quiet little spot, the only sounds being your combined breaths and the crickets hiding in the grass.

Lighter lent you a hand as you hopped off his bike, and led you towards the water to sit down and relax.

"I like to come here sometimes, when I just need to get away for a bit. Sometimes I'll splash around in the water if it's really hot out," he mentioned with a slight chuckle as he crossed his legs.

You crack a smile and look around, taking in nature's beauty whilst fiddling with a tall strand of grass beside you. "It is a very pretty spot."

"I'm glad you think so too."

A brief moment of silence passes before Lighter turns to face you, patting your knee. "You feeling any better now?”

Although you did feel lees overwhelmed, you still felt guilty for making him worry to the point he left the party.

"Yeah, I just hate that I made you worry about me… I wanted you to have fun tonight.”

Your words broke his heard. Did you really think he saw your struggles as a burden?

He took his shades off to look into your eyes, folding and setting them on the dry grass as he took your hands into his again.

“I’m always going to worry about you, I can’t help it. I don’t need to be at a loud party with drinks to have fun, I was just happy that you showed up.” Lighter’s voice sounded warm and sincere, and that made you all the more emotional. “I care about you a lot, y’know? You’ve always been there for me when I needed someone to lean on, the least I can do is be there in return.”

“You’d better stop or you’ll make me cry again,” you joked with a light laugh.

Lighter snorted as he shook his head in amusement, his grip on your hands tightening a tad as he clears his throat.

“Listen, I’m really sorry if i made you feel uncomfortable back there. I would never do something like that to you on purpose.”

You bob your head in acknowledgment. “I know you wouldn’t, Lighter.”

Your affirmation means the would to him, shows that you trust him, and he can’t keep his feelings to himself anymore. To Lighter, you’re the kindest person with the sweetest heart he’s ever seen, your love makes him feel all mushy inside, and you deserve to know.

“I um… I don’t know if this makes you feel any less guilty, but I love you, a-and I always want you to be happy. Truth is… you’re my favorite person. I really enjoy your company, and I always want you to be happy. So… if that means driving you away from a loud party, then that’s what I’ll do for you.”

…This isn’t happening is it?

Lighter’s confession hits like a slap in the face, earning him a stare of bewilderment. Did he seriously just admit that you’re his number one? A new warm feeling fills your chest as his words sink in, soothing every fiber of your being. Your heart races in your chest as your cheeks warm from his honest declaration of love, and you aren’t sure to what to say.

And he can tell. As he sits with you patiently waiting hand in hand, the gears in your mind start turning, allowing you to speak again.

“I love you too… I always have.”

Not only do your words stir something within him, but it also brings him immense satisfaction knowing you feel the same. He starts feeling a bit bold, shakily bringing your hand up to kiss the back of it while he gazes up at you through his messy bangs.

The feeling of his soft lips on your skin nearly sends you into shock, and the stupid smile that graces your lips only causes his pulse to quicken even more.

Lighter scoots a bit closer to you, his hip pressing against yours as his arm drapes across your shoulders. The awkward, romantic tension in the air is almost palpable as he kisses your hand again, slower and less timid this time. Once his hand lets go of your hand, it travels to your jawline, his gloved thumb rubbing your warm cheek gently.

“May I kiss you?” He whispered, his deep voice floating through the air and into your ears.

Despite how taken aback you are, you nod without a second thought, leaning into his side as you gaze up at him. Lighter’s head tilts a bit, allowing him better access, before leaning in and closing the distance.

The feeling of his soft, warm lips on yours is everything you’ve ever dreamed of, and you can’t get enough of it. He feels you smiling shyly into the kiss, making his heart leap with joy as he gently threads his fingers through your hair.

After a short moment of kissing, he pulls back just enough to admire the dopey grin on your flushed face.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that…”

It’s nearly impossible to stop yourself from smiling at his sweet remark, and it just makes you want to kiss him again, and again, and again.

And so you do until the moon reaches its peak, signaling the late hours of the night. Lighter flashes a heartfelt grin before offering a hand to help you up, walking you over to his bike to drive you back home.

The night had taken quite the unexpected turn, but who knows what opportunities await for you and Lighter now that your feelings are out in the open?

[reidingandallthat]

cranberry juice

spencer isn't sure what to do in his days of addiction but there's one familiar stranger that's present to help him forget, if only for one night, or maybe more.

words: 3.6k spencer reid x undercover!reader tags: well, dilaudid addiction, dark inner thoughts, nausea, mentions of withdrawal symptoms, alcohol, talks of a bar that's commonplace for criminals ig lmao, all for the plot, metaphors using space time continuum, some other nerd talk, yk the usual. reader is supposed to be an undercover agent, but here there's not much mention of it because this is very heavily spencer's pov. very much apologize if there's any inaccuracies with anything.

a/n: EXTREMELY nervous to post this hahaha. this comes from that one post i made, and i have too many ideas for undercover!reader if this even works out, this is purely to quench my need for this idea to happen.

The music in the club- though Spencer thinks it deserves a more modest name- was soft and slow, almost jazz, as the only couple on the dance floor clung to each other, swaying slightly to the music, the other part of the club which isn't so quiet is riddled with people surrounding tables and gambling rich men. It's not a common sight to see him drinking, less so to see him slurring through his words as he orders another one. His head hung low, leaning on the bar on his elbow, his eyes barely opening, a blinding headache obstructing his vision and line of thoughts. Possibly why he was out drinking. 

The bartender gives him a look, obviously sensing that this isn't a common occurrence for the gentleman in front of her, but she obliges. 

“If you wanted to get shit-faced drunk, this ain't the place for it,” She says in quiet contempt as she slides the glass over to him, but wears a smile as she composes herself again.

Spencer already knew that, but this was where his car had taken him, and he really didn't wanna be home. 

Truth was, Spencer hadn't had much to drink, all his symptoms were of withdrawal. 

Insomnia, dilated pupils, nausea, lightheadedness etc etc. he could list a few more. Spencer laughs as all the things he has read about addiction appear like check marks in his brain. None of the papers ever tell how agonizing it is to just exist, how the drug becomes the only thing you need, but the only thing you also don't want. How it feels to want to rip away your own skin, to bash your head against a wall until you feel the familiar pinch of the needle being injected. 

He should have known this would happen. 

When the hours of the night felt too long he thought of driving away, maybe his home was the problem. It reminded him too much of that night. Even in the car he felt like he needed to be out, his thoughts immediately thinking where he could get a dose, how he needed to buy another empty injection, he's used the other one more than twice. He should have known it was his own brain, the one thing he can never escape, it's always been too ahead of him, too fast.

He should have known the need would not go away just because he's away, the goosebumps, the torture would not stop, that he would need something to satiate himself. Even the warnings of driving while under the influence wasn't enough to stop him. 

So here he was, barely aware of where he was walking in, sitting on a chair, his head down, pressed to the wooden table. It's his second drink (that he isn't even halfway through), but sleep hasn't greeted him.

Spencer thinks of things to distract him, entropy, a measure of disorderliness of a system and he wonders how much he would measure on that scale. The world is leaning towards entropy every day, and maybe his callousness today has contributed to that metric, however illogical that thought might be.

It's when he feels the air surrounding him change when he thinks of gravity. Gravity isn't a force, according to Einstein, something people always find fascinating when he randomly rambles about it. It's a “force” caused by the curvature in space time, this is where he loses most people, often ending with someone stopping him as he tries to explain what is a space time continuum.

He lifts his head to see a blurry figure, his eyes adjusting to the light. He'd been sitting in a corner so as to not be noticed, so he's sure his company knows they're not welcome. 

But he's suddenly unsure about his previous claim when he sees you, your head looking at him sideways, chin resting on your shoulder, your body turned towards the bar. You have a curious look on your face, but if he's being honest, it's more amused than concerned.

“Tough night?” You ask, averting your head towards the bar as the bartender comes over to ask your order, a smirk on her face as if she knows something he doesn't. 

“What's your poison?” You ask again as you hand tell the bartender your order quietly enough that he can't make it out.

Spencer doesn't bother to answer, his brain too foggy to be polite, his tongue too heavy to retort.

“Oh, c’mon, talk to me. I'm bored.”

You say again, the amusement laced through every word which makes him more annoyed. 

“Please.” He mutters, not feeling the need to clarify his request, he has no interest in putting up an act with a stranger, it's hard enough to socialise when he's sober, this is hell.

You don't budge, though he feels the glass he's been clutching lightly being taken from his hands. That catches his attention.

He sits up, head still heavy as his eyes squint to let his pupils contract, light dilates your pupils to let as much light as it can into your eyes when there's darkness, a fact running through his brain, a common occurrence.

The glass is returned to his hand, well, another glass but it holds a clear liquid. He takes a sip and grimaces, it's water. 

Drink the water, alcohol dehydrates you-

He pushes the water away, not keen on listening to himself anymore.

“What's your problem with water?” The stranger asks again, and he hates it. Her voice is nice, too nice for his self- destructive mind right now, and he wants her gone.

“What's your problem in general?” He snaps as he takes the water and gulps it down and extends it again for a refill. He's not very aware of his decisions tonight.

From his periphery, he thinks he sees you smirk, taking a bite out of the cherry in your drink, hiding it as much as you can. He can't tell why the action seems familiar, but it is. 

The bartender and you share a look as she takes the shorter whiskey glass and exchanges it with a tall glass of water, and leaves to attend to the other customers.

He thinks of starting a conversation, but he glances at you again and hides another frown. You were pretty, he thinks, and he hides a frown. The day I choose to wallow in my sadness. 

“I didn't know they let pretty people in here.” You speak again, addressing him directly as you drink from a straw. He notices the drink to be magenta, too similar to cranberry juice. She's not drinking, he notes.

He frowns at your comment, genuinely confused, for two reasons. Firstly, he looks like hell, he knows that. Eyes bagged into his sockets, his clothes unwashed for days. And secondly,

“How would you be here then?” He asks, his head tilted in confusion.

You're caught off guard, though he can't seem to figure out why. 

There's no hint of teasing, or amusement in his question, and it feels like a stab in the gut (in the best way possible) when you realise it,

“I can't figure out whether or not you're flirting or you just genuinely asked me that. And I don't know which would be better for my mental health.”

He's confused again, “How would my flirting affect your mental health?” He asks and he hears a laugh. 

Again, it's a nice sound and he hates it. He hates that it's nice.

“Oh, you're adorable.” You say, your hand reaching up to remove a piece of hair hanging over his eyes. He doesn't move away, he usually would, but his actions are a bit delayed and before he can register it, you're getting up and leaving.

He discovers he's disappointed, which surprises him. He hadn't spoken much to you, maybe that's why. Or maybe he liked nice, even in the midst of his self loathing spiral.

He's turning away to call to the bartender again, to bring him a glass of- who knows what. 

He might know all about alcohol, how they're made, their advantages, and disadvantages but he doesn't have much experience with many of them. Nor is he familiar with any of the names. What even is there in a Daiquiri?

But he feels that same dip in his space again, space time continuum, and he looks to see you there again, holding now what looks to just be an orange liquid in a martini glass.

“First cranberry, now orange. You do know you're in a bar?” He retorts with too much sass than he would usually, but he sensed you welcome the spar.

“What am I supposed to do? Take body shots off of you or drown myself in my own misery?” You say casually and it makes him want to laugh a little.

“Not off of me.” He mumbles, taking another sip of his lukewarm water, though he didn't complain. He can hear Morgan say, “Oh, you've got jokes now?”

“Too many germs?” He only nods and continues drinking his water when he jumps at a sudden loud sipping noise, he sees the orange liquid coming to an end in your glass as you sip loudly through the straw. 

He composes himself and answers properly, some semblance of manners peeking through,

“Not particularly off of me. But it might as well be. Did you know kissing is more sanitary than handshakes?”

He asks and you have that incredulous look again, followed by an amused one,

“I can't tell again. If you're just talking or flirting.”

He frowns, “No, well- I just told you something factual.” Another sip.

You laugh again and he leans in slightly, not consciously, trying to get closer to the sound. 

“You're a rare breed, Mr….” The sentence hangs as a question, you're asking his name. 

He's suddenly aware again of his surroundings. He's at an unknown place, and if he's a good profiler he knows this isn't an honest bar. Not that the neighborhood was known for its safety. 

He stays quiet but you quickly say, “That's alright. You don't tell me, I don't tell you.”

The bartender is back again, now pouring a yellow liquid into your martini glass and he must not have realised he was looking so intently because the bartender raises her eyebrows at him, as if asking if he wants some too. He nods, quite shyly, and brings his glass forward. 

He takes a sip, mango.

“But you shouldn't come in here with that gun so,” you gesture, “up front in here. You're an outsider, and you look like hell. No offense.”

He glances down at his holster and sees the gun, and thinks back to when Penelope had said,

“It's like they gave Bambi a gun. Said with love, of course.”

He knew it was said with love, but the feeling felt more pronounced as you gave your warnings.

“They don't like cops here?” he asks, fully aware he would never actually introduce himself as one, but he thought the title to be hidden enough for the place he was in. 

“So he reveals his profession, I wonder what’s next…” another exaggerated sip, this time he laughs, getting familiar with the strangers’ antics. 

He thinks back to why he's here in the first place as his conscious mind slowly comes back. Spencer had felt the urge again, he was angry at himself. Genius with an eidetic memory, and a few molecules of a  carbon compound take over him. He threw the vial on the couch, still too afraid to break the bottle, and stormed out of the house. It was as if he knew he should come here, the bar was not on his way to work, or on his usual roads. But he was still here, and he felt too comfortable for this to be his first time here. 

He retches over nothing and immediately sees a bucket being handed to him, and the feeling of mortification washes over him.

“I've been here before, haven't I?” He asks before retching into the bucket again, throwing up the mango juice he had just drank. More shame and guilt accompany his embarrassment but his head hurts too much for him to get up.

“It's good you chose the corner,” he only now registers your hand on his shoulder, rubbing circles to provide comfort, and it is comforting. 

“We've met before, yesterday?” he asks again, and she smiles.

“It's alright. It was a short visit. I only asked you your name and you well… you don't need to know. We went to the nearby park. I got you an uber home.” she laughs and this time he does say it,

“It's nice. Your laugh. You have a nice laugh.” his head is hung low, thinking over his circumstances. 

He didn't see your reaction, but he wasn't too eager to know anyway. 

You were pretty, he was too aware of that, he likes your laugh and the first two times you've met him, he was once too out of it, and the second time he threw up. Great. 

“I'm really sorry to inconvenience you, I didn't mean to bother you. I'm sorry-”

“No, no- thats alright. Its good to have some entertainment. I just feel bored here.”

This time he laughs, “Me throwing up is entertainment for you?”

“Tch. you really are bad at this  flirting thing.” Her lips curl into a smile, and he returns the gesture as much as he can. 

Spencer excuses himself to the washroom to clean up, and god it is not a sight to see.

He thinks back to your previous comment, didnt know they let pretty people in here.

They do let them in, but that wouldnt be a problem for him today. He washes his face, another wave of nausea passing through and he tries to think of things that would distract him.

Space time continuum, more commonly known as space-time, the mathematical model where three dimensions of space and one dimension of time fuse together to make a four dimensional model. Large masses, like earth bend space time, “gravity” is felt strongest when spacetime is curved the most. There's no force of gravity, matter tells spacetime how to curve, and curved space time leads matter to an end point. 

Two people could walk the same distance in parallel lines with no intention of ever seeing each other, to just follow a straight path, but the curved space time will cause their meet. It's inevitable. 

You sit cross legged, well- your ankle resting on the other thigh as you scribble away on a lone piece of paper, and Spencer recognises it as a crossword as he takes the seat next to you. You're not at the bar anymore, you've moved to a booth. He had come by to say good-bye, but he couldn't help but comment,

“adjudge, across 10 will be deem.” He says and for the first time, he sees a questionable look, you don't say anything and just hand the puzzle back to him and say,

“I'll time you.”

Spencer wasn't one to boast about his intelligence, but at the moment, he felt like the cockiest bastard in town. 

Halfway through the puzzle, his mind coming up with answers faster than he can write them, he hears a quiet ‘what the fuck’ being muttered right next to him and he chuckles. He pushes his pen down hard enough to make a sound against the wooden table as he finishes the last word and slides the paper to you.

The look on your face is laughable, so he does laugh, after god knows how long. 

You take the paper and check it over and after a few minutes you look over at him again and he's laughing again. 

“What the fuck?” you ask, but you don't give him time to answer through his giggles,”Dude, it's been like 7 minutes. that one took me 25 minutes.” You look back at the paper again, as if that would quest your curiosity, “and I thought I was fast.” You lean back, your mouth still open in surprise. 

“25 minutes isn't bad, pretty quick for this puzzle. Don't judge yourself by my standard, I have an eidetic memory. Sorry.” 

“No, no. Never be sorry for being too smart. Atleast you're not a dick about it.” You thank the bartender as she gives you yet another drink, this time it's pink. 

“I’d say what I just did was a dick move, I was flaunting.” He reasons as he observes your drink for a second,

“No, what you did was cool. As annoyed as I am about it.” You defend him, and take a look at your watch.

“People are usually just annoyed. I haven't been described as cool by many people,” he takes a pause, “actually by no one.” Spencer notices your actions and senses some suspicion, but he shakes it off. You must have ordered again when he wasn't paying attention.

“I'd beg to differ,” you take a sip of your drink and say, “I have more if you have time…” The end of the sentence was meant as a question and Spencer nodded his head. He has three weeks worth of personal time. All he has now is time. you rummage through your bag for more unfinished crossword puzzles. Most of them are 90% done, just two or three empty spaces. 

“Chemist lab equipment, 10 words. That's easy, you can do that.” He points out,

“I've tried!! I literally can't figure it out. The only clue I have is that there's an e in it. A vowel.”

“Think about it.” He pushes.

“I asked for your help.” You complain but he still doesn't relent,

“I am helping!” He snaps back but quickly says, “Alright, I'll give you a clue, it starts with a C.”

Your head tilts as you go into deep thought and Spencer suppresses a chuckle when he sees recognition pass over your face,

“Centrifuge?” You ask tentatively,

“YES!” He claps his hand and you both laugh again and this goes on for a while. 

You ask him answers to empty crossword clues and he gives you a few more hints to get it right. There were some that even he couldn't figure out quickly, which were met with teasing from your end. He welcomed it, he was used to friendly teasing, he worked with Morgan for god's sake. A significant amount of time must have passed because you glanced at the clock again and this time, the same cranberry drink was in your hands and he couldn't help but ask,

“Why are you drinking so many juices?”

“We’re in a bar, genius. You're the weird one who's not drinking.” 

“I was drinking. You stopped me.” You did stop him. And you didn't once ask him what was going on with him. No concerned questions, no I can help you. 

“No, you were drowning in your misery.” And as if you could read his mind, “And I don't think you'd appreciate alcohol addiction too.” 

Too. 

Spencer couldn't understand why you weren't telling him that he should stop, that what he's doing is wrong, why you weren't warning him or shaming him but you speak up again,

“I assume you came here for a reprieve. I don't need to know the specifics to figure it out. Though you shouldn't use alcohol for your reprieves. Not a good alternative.” 

You shake your head in mock disappointment, and take another exaggerated sip. Spencer notes that you do that whenever you're worried you won't get a response, as a way to fill the silence. Profiler.

“What do you suggest? Juice?” He asks, gesturing to your glass and you laugh again, and he again thinks it's nice. But this time he doesn't say it out loud.

“So, what other things are you annoyingly good at?” You ask and he lists out too many things in his head, things people tell him he's the expert at. He doesn't agree with them all the time, but there is one thing he knows he's good at. 

“Chess” He answers.

You chuckle, “Figures.” You think this is probably the fifth time he's missed the cue of flirting but then you rethink how this is probably how he flirts, or just talks. Genuine earnestness. No twisted words to mask his intentions and a strange warmth fills your chest.

Maybe a little company for a while everyday won't hurt.

“So, same time tomorrow?” You ask as you gather your things above the table and put them in your bag and he's startled by the question to answer it immediately. But he registers it and says,

“Uhh, for what? Chess?” 

“Yes. You're gonna teach me. Because right now, I have to go.” You say hurriedly and pat his cheek before leaving and he thinks of all the things he had to say 

I don't know if I'll be here tomorrow.

Where would we find a chess set?

What if he's too out of it to make it here?

What should he wear? 

He doesn't even know what time it was.

What's your name?

How would I find you?

Gravity, Spencer thinks.

All those questions are unanswered as you become impossible to find in the nearly empty bar, but he thinks

I'll ask later. 

Same time, tomorrow.

[aishangotome]

Azel Radwan: Chapter 13

Chapter 12

Thank you @passthechloroform for providing the video for this chapter!

♡———♡

The apostle's voice, his smile... they make my body stiffen for some reason I can't understand.

His words, his demeanor, his gentle manner... it's not like he's done anything to harm me. In fact, he's a "good person" who treats me with kindness and consideration.

Perhaps it's rude of me to even feel this sense of unease, but...

Apostle: Emma, if you'd like, why not listen to my sermon?

Even now, after our second encounter, a jarring sensation lingers in my heart.

Emma: A sermon... you say?

Apostle: Yes. My role is to spread the teachings of the Moon's incarnation and guide the people to happiness.

Apostle: To that end, I regularly open the castle and personally show the path to enlightenment.

The apostle's smile is endlessly merciful, and his desire to bring happiness to the people seems genuine.

Apostle: Tonight happens to be the day I invite people in and impart my teachings.

Apostle: As you are from a foreign land, Emma, there is much you likely don't know about our God.

Apostle: Why not take this opportunity to learn?

Apostle: If you feel uneasy attending alone, you are welcome to come with the guests from Rhodolite.

Apostle: They themselves expressed their desire to participate in this gathering.

(Clavis and Luke are attending too, which means...)

(Perhaps they suspect there's some connection between the apostle's gathering and the Three Country Alliance.)

(I can't deny I'm curious. I also want to know more about the Living God...)

(But is the apostle's invitation truly out of goodwill?)

(Am I just overthinking things by suspecting he has an ulterior motive?)

Silvio: Hey, you alright?

Silvio's voice cuts through my swirling thoughts.

Silvio: Didn't the God ask you to do some shopping?

Silvio: You better buy what you need and get back quickly, or he'll get annoyed.

(That's right, the errands!)

The list of errands Azel gave me is still in my pocket.

It's like a talisman – remembering its presence calms my heart.

(Come to think of it...)

*earlier*

Azel: If a suspicious old man approaches you, ignore him.

Azel: If you give in to his sweet talk out of the goodness of your heart, only ruin awaits you.

*back to present*

Emma: I apologize. Although I appreciate the invitation...

I place my hand over my pocket, feeling the paper within as I shake my head.

Apostle: Please don't mind. If you become interested, you can speak with me anytime.

Apostle: You are a special person to the Living God, Emma. If you have any requests, please don't hesitate to call upon me.

Apostle: All is according to the will of the Living God.

Without any coercion, the apostle departs, his smile unwavering.

The several men following him seem to be his guards, and there's something imposing about their presence.

Silvio: ...Somethin' about that guy seems fishy.

Silvio watches the apostle's retreating figure with a suspicious gaze, one that clearly indicates his dislike.

Silvio: I wouldn't wanna do business with that sort.

Kate: Why is that?

Silvio: Because I don't think we'd be able to understand each other.

Silvio: It's just a merchant's intuition, but you sensed something too, right?

Emma: ...I can't quite put it into words...

Silvio: Your gut feeling is usually right. Based on past experiences, you just sense that "something's off." Both you and I.

(If that's true...)

(What exactly is it about the apostle that's different from other people?)

-

Azel: You're late.

By the time I finished my errands in town and returned to the temple, the sun had completely set.

The God who greets me looks displeased, holding out his hand with a frown.

(It seems Azel wasn't waiting for me, but for the items from my errands.)

When I hand him the things I bought in town, Azel turns on his heel without even checking the contents.

Azel: I don't know where you were dawdling, but next time, come back before the sun sets.

(Oh no, I completely forgot about dinner!)

Emma: I'm sorry, I'll hurry and make it.

Azel: Huh?

Emma: ...Eh?

Emma: I thought you were pressuring me to hurry up and make dinner...

Azel: ...Ah, yes, that's right.

Azel: To think you would let a God go hungry, you have some nerve, you debt-ridden slave.

(What was with that strange pause just now...?)

Azel: Don't just stand there with that stupid look on your face, hurry up and make it! Make it now, I'm starving!

Emma: If you're going to talk to me like that, I'll make you a simple meal.

Azel: ..............

(This awkward silence...)

-

The moment I step into the kitchen as usual, I realize the reason for the God's awkward expression.

Emma: This is...

Azel: Oh my, when did this happen?

Azel: Perhaps someone broke into the temple. It's a suspicious object, unfit for consumption.

Azel: Let's just feed it to the camels.

Emma: No, don't!

I grab Azel from behind with all my might, stopping him from reaching for the tagine.

The kitchen is already filled with the appetizing aroma of spices, and inside the pot in question is a finished stew.

(It's a very avant-garde, or rather, unconventional presentation...)

Vegetables and meat, uncut by a knife, are crammed whole into the pot.

It seems like it would be difficult to even take the ingredients out because they're so tightly packed together, but still--

Emma: It looks delicious.

My stomach growls at the smell of spices tickling my nose.

Azel: Are you really going to eat a suspicious object made by who-knows-who?

Emma: I know who made it.

Emma: ...Because your clothes smell like spices, Prince Azel.

When I bring my nose closer, Azel's expression changes into something too scary to show a child.

Azel: Is it just your imagination?

Emma: That's a shame. I wanted to try your cooking, Prince Azel...

Azel: You don't mean that.

Emma: I'm being serious.

Emma: Food made by someone else always tastes better than what I make myself.

Emma: To a greater or lesser extent, home cooking always has care put into it.

Azel: Stop it, I'm getting goosebumps.

Emma: Besides...

Emma: If you foresaw my entire day, Prince Azel, you must have known I would come home tired, right?

Emma: That's why you cooked– Ouch!

Azel: Such unsightly conceit.

Pinching my cheeks tightly, Azel furrows his brow even more.

Azel: Listen, you were taking so long to come back that I got impatient and made it myself.

Azel: Before you proudly show off your pathetic deductions, first show me the sincerity of offering me a late fee.

(He says that, but...)

There are two plates set on the table.

Judging from the amount of stew, it's obvious that Azel made enough for me as well.

(If he was just hungry, there'd be no need to prepare a portion for me.)

(The more time I spend with him, the more his flaws as a bad-tempered God seem to show.)

(I don't know why he won't honestly admit his good intentions...)

(But in the end, there's no doubt that he's a "good-natured" God.)

Emma: ...I'm sorry.

Azel: I didn't tell you to apologize. I told you to give me money.

Emma: No, not that apology, but the one from before...

Emma: When you said "come back before the sun sets," thinking about it now, maybe you were genuinely worried about me--

Emma: Ouch ouch ouch!

Azel: Why would I worry about you?

Azel: It's just inconvenient for me not to have an errand runner.

He avoids my gaze with his mystical eyes in an unnatural way.

Emma: I'll p-pretend that's how it is.

(I was so tired before returning to the temple, but now it's all blown away.)

Azel, with his grumpy face, releases my cheeks, serves only his portion of the stew onto a plate, and takes a seat.

As he opens his book as usual, I also put my portion on a plate and sit next to him.

Emma: Thank you for the food.

Emma: ...Mmm, delicious!

(Maybe it's because it's simmered only with various spices and steam... the flavor is deep and addictive.)

The taste is so good that it overrides the difficulty of eating it, and my cheeks loosen in satisfaction.

Emma: Meat, tomatoes, onions, chickpeas, olives... I see...

Azel: I'm telling you, don't try to copy it.

Emma: Is it a secret recipe that can't be taken outside?

Azel: No, it's a common Tanzanite dish.

Azel: But if you're going to make it, make sure to cut the ingredients properly. It's annoying how difficult it is to eat.

Emma: Then you should have cut them... This kitchen has knives, right?

Azel: ...I cut my finger with one before.

Emma: Ah...

(For Azel, who hates blood, knives must have become a trauma.)

(Maybe that's why he always asks me to cook.)

Still, I catch a glimpse of his kindness in the fact that he cooked for me, and my cheeks loosen even more.

Azel: ...You irreverent girl.

Emma: I didn't say anything.

Azel: Your face is noisy.

Azel: You have no faith in God.

Emma: Maybe so.

Emma: ...That's probably why the apostle called out to me.

Azel gives a mischievous smile, as if he knew everything from the beginning.

Azel: You were invited to that phony gathering, weren't you?

Emma: Phony?

Azel: What else could it be but phony, going around preaching teachings I never gave?

(Azel seems to detest the apostle's activities.)

(...Come to think of it, it's strange, isn't it? Tanzanite has its own God.)

(And yet, it's not the God himself who's preaching his teachings.)

Emma: What exactly is this "phony gathering" like?

Azel: What else is there besides preaching the teachings of God?

Azel: Why do you doubt it?

Emma: It seems Clavis and Luke are attending too.

Azel: ...Ah.

With just those few words, Azel seemed to understand everything.

Azel: If you're curious, you can ask those two instead of me.

Azel: They'll tell you everything.

Azel: And unless you're fools, you'll realize...

Azel: That this country is all a dream, a castle built on sand, founded on illusion.

––Meanwhile, at Tanzanite Castle.

The castle, usually enveloped in sacred silence, is filled with a passionate clamor.

The assembled people proceed down a long corridor, being sucked into a spacious hall at the end.

At the edge of the crowd, neatly arranged by the castle servants, two men lean towards each other.

Clavis: It seems both the rich and the poor alike come to receive the teachings of God?

Luke: Doesn't look like there are any tourists.

Clavis: It's probably a show exclusively for their own citizens.

Luke: Nothing suspicious so far.

Clavis: Haha, as if there would be anything suspicious at a sacred gathering of God.

Clavis: But if you wish, I wouldn't mind personally turning this into an amusing theme park--

Luke: ...Stop having fun and do your job properly.

Clavis: ...Wh-what...?

Clavis: To think the day would come when I'd be told to work by that embodiment of sloth, Luke...

Luke: You're annoying...

Clavis: But you've really been full of motivation since coming to Tanzanite?

Clavis: Or rather, you seem to be "searching for something"...

Luke: ...

Clavis: Haha, come now, I'm not so uncouth as to pry into my little brother's private affairs.

Clavis: Big brother Clavis is always on your side. If there's something you want to do, go ahead and do it.

Clavis: However, monopolizing the pleasure is forbidden. Let's share the fun with your brother, shall we?

Luke: ...No thanks.

With a cough that sounds like spitting, the waves of clamor gradually recede.

Standing at the podium set up at the front of the hall is a gentle saint.

Clavis: Now then––it seems it's time to ascertain the truth of "that rumor."

The thick, luxurious doors of the hall close, trapping the air inside.

Apostle: My devout followers, thank you for gathering here tonight.

Luke: ...What is this?

Clavis: What's wrong?

Luke: ...Don't you smell something?

Clavis: Smell...?

Clavis: Ah, it seems to be that.

Clavis's golden eyes indicate censers placed as if hidden in the shadows of the pillars.

Placed at regular intervals, their fragrance gradually dominates the enclosed space.

Apostle The great Moon's incarnation of our country generously bestows its blessings upon us.

Apostle: That the people of Tanzanite can cherish life, savor joy, enjoy comfort, and revere love...

Apostle: It can be said that it's all thanks to the Living God.

Apostle: However, there is a prophecy left behind by the first Living God long ago.

Luke: Hey, Clavis... this.

Clavis: Hmm...

Apostle: We must overcome this sorrowful prophecy and show absolute loyalty and trust to the Living God.

Apostle: We must not repay the divine grace with enmity.

Apostle: Now is the time, after a thousand years, to overcome the trial left by the first Living God.

Luke: ...What do we do?

Clavis: Of course...

Amidst the fervent crowd, the pleasure-loving prince takes out an ominous vial from his pocket.

Clavis: Let's have some fun.

-

The next day––

(I'm so tired.)

I've been running around the vast temple with cleaning tools, but finally, my exhaustion reaches its limit, and I collapse onto the stairs.

(And it's all because of that demanding God...)

*earlier this morning*

Azel: I'd like you to do a thorough cleaning today. From corner to corner.

Emma: I have to go on errands for the owner...

Azel: Here, these are the cleaning tools. Allow me to bestow them upon you.

Emma: But my work--

Azel: Oh my, did the debtor say something?

Azel: If you intend to repay with your body, you shouldn't be able to refuse my request, right?

Emma: .................

Azel: Don't forget that you have no right to choose right now. Keep polishing until I say it's good enough.

*back to present*

(No matter how many times I clean, he finds fault like a malicious mother-in-law...!)

Unlike yesterday's mercifulness, today's Azel is ruthless.

(Could this be his revenge for me teasing him yesterday?)

(...I wanted to go to town.)

With a sigh, I look up at the ceiling––and in doing so, I happen to catch sight of the dimly lit corridor on the left.

*flashback*

Azel: The right side has been mostly renovated, so there's no problem, but the left side has partially collapsed.

Azel: If you're ever walking around here, never go to the left side.

Azel: If you happen to go in there––

Emma: ...If I do?

Azel: Hehe.

*back to present*

(...Just looking at the corridor, it seems to be well-maintained.)

Since I've been told it's off-limits, I don't intend to go in, but I can't deny my curiosity about what lies in the depths of that darkness.

(Is it really just unfinished renovations, or is there something else––)

Azel: Emma.

Emma: ...!

Even though I haven't done anything wrong, I end up standing up.

Azel: Were you thinking about something shameful?

Emma: N-no... I was just going to start cleaning again after my break!

Azel: I don't care about that.

(Even though it was Azel who told me to polish thoroughly.)

(...Hmm?)

Emma: It's noisy outside.

(I can hear people's voices.)

(And they sound quite urgent...)

Azel: In that case, let me show you something interesting as a reward for cleaning.

.

.

.

Chapter 13 His Side Story

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[bullet-prooflove]

3 things for Dean Archer because I feel like I’ve been neglecting him lately: necklace, champagne, snow

Tagging: @kmc1989 @mandy426 @sweetdaytimedreams @cosmic-psychickitty @mrspeacem1nusone

Companion piece to:

Bang - Dean hears about the accident you had in the morgue.

Dean doesn’t believe in God, he hasn’t for a long time, not since his days in the military. He’s seen too much, done too much to put his faith in a deity that allows kids to get cancer and human beings to hurt each other the way that they do. The thing is you do, not directly, you believe in fate and the universe, something more than just people muddling their way through this life and Dean he finds that admirable, especially with all the death you see.

Which is why he bought the necklace, the silver St Luke pendant that hangs so predominantly around your throat as you sit in the window seat of his house, watching as the snow falls outside.

That accident you had the other day back in the morgue, it scared him, especially when he’s found out the finer details. You’d been lying there for thirty minutes, blood seeping out across the tiles from your head injury before anyone had found you. You were fortunate enough that it was nothing more than a concussion and a couple of stitches but the thought of what could have happened…

Well if a little divine intervention prevents something like that occurring again he’s willing to buy in, even if it’s not his thing.

“Champagne?” He says as he hands you the glass flute and you tilt your head up towards him, that radiant smile lighting up your features.

“You know when you invited me over to ring in the New Year, I thought you were having a party.” You tell him as he takes up residence in the window seat beside you.

“Are you disappointed?” He questions, his voice a little gruff because he hates the idea of letting you down, of not meeting your expectations.

“No.” You say softly as you lean in close, your mouth brushing lightly over his. “I couldn’t think of a better way to start the year than here like this with you.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[misshuntereevee]

think retail therapy my new addiction: a self-indulgent little rambling about you slowly learning to let sylus pay for you because you're prideful .˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.༄

sylus ... likes to slip things off at your doorstep. he's learned that if you are given away to return it easily, you will. so he's decided to just not be in sight for that to happen.

sylus ... will let you put your card down at the restaurant, but he switches it out with his own at the last second with his evol

sylus ... who takes notes of the things you say you want and makes sure they end up easily accessible to you

sylus ... finding subtle ways to get rid of what debt you have without outright giving you his card ( the debt collector is suddenly out of business or has a new owner or is dead... )

sylus ... taking you shopping whenever you mention liking a new style. he also loves buying you pretty things. necklaces, bracelets, rings, gems, etc. if he thinks it'll look pretty on you, it's in his cart. (it happens way too much, and you have a special jewelry box for all the things he's gotten you. it's over flowing.)

sylus ... giving a little 'good girl' the first time you use his card without asking for permission. after all, to him, giving you the card was the permission.

[tittyinfinity]

when you're disabled, being financially abused by your parents never ends

[prapuna]

.

[sunni-stuff]

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Reader who gets pregnant off of a one night stand with some soldier during armed forces day, showing your appreciation for his service a little too well.

You had a support system, friends who joked about you having way too much fun, hence your predicament, others already offering to buy things for the baby and your parents who couldn't be happier to meet their grandchild.

But what about the father?

Well, it's not exactly like you could track him down. Fuck, you didn't even know the man's name, only how he made you feel, his filthy words strumming in your ear, big hands tight around your waist, hips slamming away in a desperate chase.

Let's forget how you leg-locked him.

When your daughter was born, everything changed, and time slowed down. She was a quiet baby, barely crying or having any outbursts like a normal child would but outspoken in her own little way. That chunky thing came out of the womb with a glare. Brown eyes staring down anyone and everyone but you.

That's something she definitely got from her father. You vividly remember how his umber eyes watching you from across the bar. He was like an eagle waiting for the perfect moment to strike his prey. A perfect soldier.

So, you named your daughter Adira in memory of his strength. That's one thing he could have.

Adira loved to be by your side. Her chubby cheeks pressed into the nook of your neck, holding you close with strength of a thousand babies. Your clingy little thing was a koala, always by her mommy's side, never straying far no matter how curious she got. When she learned to walk, her favorite thing became to hug your leg, especially while in stores. She hated people, wearing a tiny scowl whenever customers passed by tucking herself closer to you.

Maybe it was a good thing her father wasn't around. Having to compete for her first words would've been a bloodbath.

You spent two years in bliss. The fact that you were a single mother an afterthought to raising what you considered a blessing.

With Adira's second Christmas coming up, you wanted to do something special. She loved trains and found them absolutely amusing, often mimicking the honk as she ran around your apartment. Thankfully, there was a train ride for kids around the park during this time of year.

Here, you stood in line, bundled up to the nines. Big poofy coat, warm gloves, and fuzzy boots. As the crowd moved, Adira clung close, arms wrapped around your leg, glowering at any passerby with an annoyed look on her rosy cheeks.

That one was new. Maybe something else she got from her father.

The two of you took steps in tow, keeping Adira close and comfortable as the train came into view. Her expression shifted, excitement palpable. "Twain!" She squealed, jumping up and down.

Before you could respond to Adira's childlike joy, a man bumped into you by accident, nearly stumbling over his own feet. He turns to look at you, blue eyes meeting yours, but you were too focused on the weird ass Mohawk on his head.

People wore still those?

"Sorry bout that lass." The man starts to apologize, a Scottish accent lacing his voice.

That breaks your stare, laughing awkwardly to mask your wandering gaze. "Oh no, it's fine. You should be careful. you might slip on ice."

He nods, giving you a kind smile. The Scottish man starts to leave, but the look your kid was giving him sent shivers down his spine.

Little Adira was giving him a fierce stare down from behind your leg before ultimately cutting her eyes at him as if he were merely a nuisance.

"Next in line! Mctavish!"

The man doesn't stay after that. You assume that it was him they were calling with the way he hurried off. Hope he doesn't fall, seemed like a nice guy.

Soap can't help but do a double take when be gets to the front. The little rascal was wearing his Lieutenants face, hawk eyeing anyone who dared got to close. It was like looking in a mirror.

He nudged Gaz, making a gesture to look back without making it obvious. "See the lass and her bairn in line?"

Gaz gives him a raised brow, looking back for a second before turning around. "There's a lot of kids with their mother's, Johnny."

Soap glances back, double checking to make sure you were still in line. “The lass with the wee one—she’s got the same wicked look as Lt. You cannae miss her.”

Gaz rolls his eyes but humors Soap by looking once more, his eyes scanning the crowd until they land on a little girl already mean-mugging him from a distance. He swiftly turns around, blinking in surprise, trying to comprehend what he saw. "Uh..."

Soap only nods in agreement. That was Ghost's face, on a kid no less. He wastes no time, elbowing Roach and getting him to look back as well, leaving the other Sergeant in the same shock as Gaz. "That is not a face a kid should have."

"Agreed." Gaz added, shuddering at the thought.

"Where's the cap?" Soap asks, the train ride no longer feeling like fun now that he’s discovered the jackpot.

"Market place with Lt. for cigs," Gaz knowingly remarked, remembering that Price had run out on their way here.

"Well, let's go show them a Christmas miracle," Soap shot up from his seat all too eagerly.

The sergeants just got their Christmas present.

[solxamber]

Pick Us!

In which you have to choose a club and it looks like everyone wants a piece of you.

Part 2 (Choosing a club)

You were minding your own business, dodging Grim's increasingly creative ways to get you to buy premium tuna, when Crowley swept in with his usual dramatic flair.

“Ah, my dear pupil!” he exclaimed, arms wide like a bad community theater actor. “To better immerse yourself in school life, you must join a club. It’s mandatory!”

Before you could protest or ask any clarifying questions, he disappeared in a swirl of his cape, leaving you standing there with nothing but Grim’s unsympathetic shrug.

Naturally, this information traveled faster than you could process it, because the next thing you knew, Ace was practically dragging you by the arm across campus.

The Basketball Club

“Alright, listen,” Ace began, spinning a basketball on one finger and grinning like he just invented the sport. “You’re obviously joining the basketball club. It’s the best. I’m here, Floyd’s here, and even Jamil’s here, so really, it’s a no-brainer.”

“Is that supposed to sell it?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“Uh, yeah!” he said, tossing the ball toward you. It immediately bounced off your hands and hit the floor. Ace, undeterred, caught it mid-bounce and gave you a wink. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you. I’m, like, super good at this. Just ask him!”

From across the gym, some poor guy—bless his heart—tried to nod in support, but you caught the nervous look he shot Ace instead.

“Okay, sure,” you said, “but isn’t this just an excuse for you to show off?”

“Maybe,” Ace said with zero shame, dribbling the ball dramatically before attempting a layup. The ball bounced off the rim and into Floyd’s waiting hands.

“Shrimpy!” Floyd called, tossing the ball behind his head without looking (and still somehow making the shot). “Join the club. It’ll be fuuuuun.”

You hesitated, because with Floyd, “fun” could mean literally anything. “Define fun,” you said cautiously.

“Simple! You, me, and Ace crushing people in games!” Floyd grinned, leaning closer to you. “And if anyone tries to mess with you, I’ll squish ‘em.”

Ace groaned. “Floyd, you can’t just threaten people into joining.”

“Why not?” Floyd asked, genuinely puzzled.

“Because it’s weird!”

“No, it’s effective,” Floyd countered, shooting you another toothy grin. “C’mon, Shrimpy, you’re already here. I’ll even let you call the plays. Or, you know, not. Whatever.”

“...You’re just bored, aren’t you?”

“Obviously,” Floyd admitted, leaning lazily against the wall. “But hey, if you join, I won’t let Ace hog the ball. Win-win, right?”

And then there was Jamil, who had been sitting silently on the sidelines, observing the chaos with his usual exasperated expression.

“Are they done?” he asked, finally standing and walking over to you.

“I don’t think so,” you replied, watching as Floyd tried to steal the ball from Ace mid-dribble.

Jamil sighed. “Typical.” He glanced at you, his tone cool and measured. “Ignore them. They’re just trying to drag you into their antics.”

“Antics?” Floyd repeated, offended.

“Yeah, Jamil,” Ace added, narrowing his eyes. “What’re you implying?”

“I’m implying you’re both terrible at convincing people,” Jamil said smoothly. He turned back to you. “If you’re interested in joining the club, you’ll actually get something out of it. Physical exercise, teamwork, strategy. And if you stick around, I’ll make sure you’re not stuck with them during practice.”

“Hey!” Ace protested.

Floyd just laughed. “Jamil’s still salty about the last scrimmage.”

“Hardly,” Jamil said, arching an eyebrow. “I’m just pointing out that if you want to learn how to actually play, you’d be better off with me.”

You blinked. “Are you… offering to train me?”

He shrugged, but there was a faint smirk on his face. “If it means saving you from their nonsense, yes.”

All you can do is sigh and say "I'll think about it"

Track and Field Club

You barely made it out of the basketball club’s gym alive when Deuce grabbed your wrist like his life depended on it. His expression was that unique combination of earnest and panicked—classic Deuce.

“Wait, don’t decide yet!” he said, already dragging you down the corridor. “You haven’t even seen the track and field club! You might like it better!”

“Deuce,” you began, trying to keep up without tripping. “I haven’t even—”

“Just come on!”

Before you knew it, you were standing on the edge of the outdoor track, blinking in the sunlight as Deuce shoved you forward like he was presenting a prize to a panel of judges. Jack, in the middle of sprint drills, stopped mid-stride to look over at you. His tail flicked once, and he jogged over with that intimidating mix of focus and curiosity he always had.

“You’re trying to recruit them?” Jack asked, crossing his arms.

Deuce nodded, puffing out his chest like he was making the ultimate sales pitch. “Yeah! Track and field’s way better than basketball. No offense to those guys.”

“I take offense,” you muttered, but neither of them heard.

“Plus,” Deuce continued, “we’ve got variety. Running, jumping, throwing—you can do anything. It’s not just bouncing a ball around, you know?”

Jack nodded in agreement. “It’s good for discipline. Builds strength, endurance, and focus. If you want to improve yourself, this is the place to do it.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, glancing at the track. “And what if I… don’t exactly have focus?”

“That’s fine!” Deuce said, grinning brightly. “We’ll help you! Right, Jack?”

Jack nodded. “Of course. We’ll start with basic drills.” He gave you a once-over, sizing you up. “How’s your stamina?”

“Define… stamina,” you said cautiously, because you had a feeling your answer wasn’t going to impress him.

Jack’s ears twitched, and he leaned slightly closer. “How far can you run without stopping?”

“Uh,” you began, nervously shifting your weight. “To the fridge?”

Jack blinked. “...You’re joking, right?”

Deuce coughed loudly, clapping a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about that! Everyone starts somewhere, right? Besides, they’re here because they want to try something new.”

You stared at Deuce. “I don’t remember saying that.”

“Exactly!” he continued, ignoring you entirely. “Think of how awesome it’d be to have us training you! We’ll get you in the best shape of your life. Right, Jack?”

Jack, who was still mildly horrified by your fridge comment, hesitated. “...Sure.”

Deuce, now fully in salesman mode, gestured to the track like it was some sort of holy land. “And you don’t have to worry about teamwork stuff! You can focus on your personal goals and—”

“Unless you’re in a relay,” Jack interjected.

“Right, but relays are cool!” Deuce added quickly. “Like… team spirit, you know?”

You glanced between the two of them, taking in Jack’s intensity and Deuce’s enthusiasm. They were both staring at you with a mix of hope and determination, and honestly, it was kind of endearing.

“Okay,” you said slowly. “If I join, do I get to skip the first practice?”

“No,” Jack said immediately.

Deuce grinned sheepishly. “But we’ll go easy on you!”

“Jack doesn’t look like he believes that.”

Jack tilted his head, his tail swishing once. “You’ll thank me later.”

“I’m not sure I’ll survive later,” you muttered.

Deuce ignored that, clapping his hands together. “Great! I knew you’d love it here! C’mon, let’s give them a quick demo, Jack!”

Before you could protest, the two of them took off around the track, moving at speeds that made you feel dizzy just watching. Deuce kept glancing back to grin at you, while Jack stayed focused, every stride perfect.

You stood there, bewildered and vaguely impressed, wondering if joining any club was a good idea at all. Still, as Deuce stumbled back toward you, sweaty but grinning like a puppy who just fetched a stick, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Think about it, okay?” he said, hands on his knees as he caught his breath. “We’d love to have you here.”

Jack jogged up beside him, barely winded. “You’ll fit in if you put in the effort.”

“Yeah,” Deuce agreed, nodding earnestly. “So… what do you think?”

You hesitated, glancing at the track, then at them. “…I’ll get back to you.”

Deuce grinned like that was a victory, and Jack just nodded approvingly. As they walked back to their drills, you realized you had yet another club to consider—and these two weren’t going to make it any easier.

Board Game Club

Before you could make your escape—or even fully process the events of the day—your wrist was suddenly seized by Ortho, who zoomed in out of nowhere like a missile with a purpose.

“There you are!” Ortho exclaimed with unsettling cheer. His grip was surprisingly firm for someone who probably didn’t even need to touch you to move you. “Big Brother’s been waiting! Come on!”

“Wait—what? Ortho, where are we—”

“No time for questions!” And just like that, he lifted you into the air like you were a deranged package and he was some kind of express courier. You barely had time to flail before he rocketed off, delivering you with precision to the board game club's headquarters.

You landed with an unceremonious thud, right in front of Idia, who nearly fell out of his chair.

“Ortho!” Idia hissed, his flaming hair flaring. “You can’t just abduct people like that!”

“But you said you wanted them to join!” Ortho chirped. “Mission accomplished!”

Azul, seated calmly at the head of the table, adjusted his glasses and smirked. “Well, well. A delivery service—how efficient. Welcome to the board game club.”

You were still processing the fact that you’d been airmailed when Idia slouched lower in his seat, muttering, “Ugh, so embarrassing. Ortho, seriously…”

“Uh,” you began, brushing yourself off. “Hi?”

Azul gestured grandly to the table in front of him, where an array of meticulously organized board games was displayed like they were ancient treasures. “Here, we focus on strategy, intellect, and the fine art of outwitting your opponent. Unlike other clubs,” he said with a pointed glance at the door, “this one doesn’t require you to break a sweat.”

“That’s actually kind of appealing,” you admitted, still wary.

Idia perked up slightly, his hair flickering a little brighter. “See? I told you it’s cool. I mean, if you like, uh, not running around like some NPC.”

Ortho leaned over, nodding enthusiastically. “And Big Brother’s really good at this stuff! He’s undefeated in our club tournaments!”

“That’s because you’re the only other member who’s not a liability!” Idia blurted, before realizing what he’d just said. “Uh—I mean—you’d totally, like, be an asset. Probably.”

Azul cleared his throat, clearly annoyed at being excluded from the compliment. “Allow me to demonstrate. Why don’t we have a quick match? You against Idia.”

“What?” Idia sat up straight, his hair sparking nervously. “No way! That’s not fair—I can’t just—”

Azul gave him a smile sharp enough to cut glass. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of losing, Idia.”

Idia’s face turned pink. “Fine,” he grumbled, setting up the board. “But don’t blame me if I crush them.”

You sat down reluctantly, realizing too late that this was probably a trap. Idia’s fingers moved at lightning speed as he set up his pieces, muttering calculations under his breath. Ortho leaned over your shoulder, giving you completely useless advice like, “Just believe in yourself!”

To your surprise, you managed to hold your own for the first few turns. Idia glanced up at you, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he were reevaluating your existence.

“Huh,” he murmured. “Not bad. For a newbie.”

“Is that a compliment?” you asked, moving your piece cautiously.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” he said quickly, his face turning red again.

Azul chuckled from his spot at the table. “See? A game of wits and strategy. Isn’t this far superior to running laps or throwing balls into hoops?”

“Hey!” you said, pointing your game piece at him. “Don’t diss the other clubs. They’re passionate too!”

Azul raised an eyebrow. “Passion doesn’t win battles. Strategy does.”

The game dragged on, and by the end of it, you were completely out of your depth. Idia, on the other hand, looked like he’d just stepped out of an anime boss fight, his hair flaring dramatically as he made his final move.

“Checkmate,” he said, grinning slightly.

“Wrong game, Big Brother,” Ortho corrected.

“Whatever!” Idia snapped, but he didn’t look too upset. “It’s over, okay?”

Azul leaned forward, smirking again. “So, what do you think? Ready to join?”

You leaned back in your chair, your brain fried from trying to keep up. “I… I need to think about it.”

Ortho beamed. “That means they’re considering it! Success!”

Idia muttered something under his breath about “too much pressure” and “why is this so stressful,” but you caught a tiny flicker of a smile as he fiddled with one of the game pieces.

Azul, ever the businessman, handed you a brochure as you left. “Take your time. But remember—intellect always wins.”

You left the board game club feeling like you’d just survived a high-stakes negotiation. And as Ortho cheerfully waved goodbye, you couldn’t help but wonder if all the clubs were this intense.

Film Studies Club

You were rounding a corner, still recovering from your latest club recruitment ambush, when a perfectly manicured hand shot out and grabbed your wrist.

Before you could even yelp, you found yourself being gracefully pulled into the Film Studies Clubroom by none other than Vil Schoenheit. His strides were purposeful, his posture impeccable, and his expression…well, let’s just say it was the definition of I’m doing you a favor, peasant.

“Vil?” you sputtered, barely managing to keep up. “What are you—”

“I need to vet you,” Vil said simply, his voice calm but leaving no room for argument. “The Film Studies Club could use some fresh blood, and you look… adequate.”

“Adequate?” you echoed, mildly offended but too intrigued to argue further.

He led you to the center of the room, gesturing for you to stand under a perfectly angled spotlight. “Don’t misunderstand,” Vil continued, crossing his arms and regarding you with a critical eye. “I’m merely evaluating your potential. Our club requires both talent and diligence—qualities that, if I’m being honest, are rare in this school.”

“Uh, thanks?”

Vil ignored you, pulling out a script and flipping through it like he was deciding your fate. “If you can’t pass the audition, you can still join as a backstage hand,” he said airily. “We’re short on those too.”

“Wow, what an inspiring pitch,” you muttered, but Vil’s sharp gaze silenced you immediately.

“Read this,” he instructed, handing you the script and gesturing for you to begin.

You hesitated, glancing at the lines. “You’re serious? Right now?”

“Do I look like someone who jokes about art?” Vil asked, raising a perfectly sculpted brow.

Point taken.

Clearing your throat, you started reading, trying to put some effort into it. Vil watched you intently, his expression inscrutable. He occasionally tilted his head, as if mentally dissecting every word you spoke, every movement you made.

When you finished, you looked at him expectantly, waiting for his verdict.

Vil tapped his chin, his eyes narrowing. “You’re not hopeless,” he said finally, in a tone that made it sound like a compliment. “Rough around the edges, yes, but I’ve seen worse.”

“Gee, thanks,” you said dryly.

“Don’t be smug. You’ll need work,” Vil continued, ignoring your tone. “But I suppose you have potential.”

“And if I didn’t?”

Vil gave a delicate shrug, his expression cool. “Then you’d still be useful behind the scenes. But consider this your opportunity to elevate yourself. Being part of my club means striving for excellence—no exceptions.”

You couldn’t help but smirk. “Is this really about me, or are you just desperate for members?”

Vil’s eyes narrowed, but there was a flicker of amusement there. “Desperation has nothing to do with it. I’m simply ensuring that my club remains unparalleled. If you happen to benefit from my guidance, so be it.”

“Well, when you put it that way, how can I refuse? I'll think about it.”

Vil’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles. “Smart choice. Now, don’t make me regret it.”

With that, he turned on his heel, leaving you standing there wondering what exactly you’d just signed up for—and if Vil’s idea of “elevating yourself” involved a complete personality overhaul.

Science Club

You barely had time to process Vil's dramatic exit when a familiar voice whispered theatrically, “Ah, my muse! Fate conspires to bring us together!”

Before you could react, Rook Hunt appeared—swooped, really—out of nowhere and expertly whisked you away from the Film Studies Clubroom. It was less like being led and more like being caught mid-flight by an overly enthusiastic bird of prey.

“Rook?!” you yelped as he practically danced you down the hallway. “What is happening?”

“Mon ami,” he declared, his eyes glittering with fervor, “you must see the science club! A world of wonder awaits you!”

“Wait—science?” you echoed, incredulous. “You’re in the science club?”

“Ah, oui! Science is but another stage upon which the beauty of nature and humanity performs its eternal dance! The experiments! The cultivation of life! The creation of culinary masterpieces! All expressions of art, no?”

You weren’t sure if he was describing scientific principles or poetry, but before you could argue, Rook had dragged you into the science clubroom.

The room was a chaotic mix of activities. One corner housed a vibrant garden under grow lights, another had chemistry equipment bubbling away ominously, and a third corner smelled suspiciously like freshly baked bread. Trey Clover stood near a counter, pulling cookies out of an oven as if this were the most normal thing to happen in a science lab.

“Ah, there you are,” Trey greeted, smiling warmly. “Rook said he’d bring someone by. I’m guessing you’re deciding on a club?”

You glanced between Rook, who was already gesturing dramatically at a rack of test tubes, and Trey, who held up a tray of cookies like a peace offering. “I… guess I am?”

“Bien sûr!” Rook exclaimed, sweeping an arm toward the greenery in the corner. “Behold! We grow life itself here! Tomatoes, basil, flowers—anything your heart desires!”

Trey added, “We also bake and cook as part of our activities. It’s a great way to learn about chemistry and make something useful at the same time.”

“And explosions!” Rook chimed in enthusiastically. “Occasionally, there are explosions.”

Trey shot him a look. “Not… intentionally.”

Rook turned back to you, his expression radiant. “Think of the possibilities, mon ami! With science, you can cultivate beauty, create masterpieces, and perhaps even unlock secrets of the universe! And, of course, I am here to guide you—to nurture the artistic soul that dwells within!”

“Also,” Trey added, far more pragmatically, “we’re not picky about what activities you want to try. It’s a flexible club, so you could do a little bit of everything.”

You considered this as Trey handed you a cookie. It was warm and delicious, which admittedly swayed your opinion a little.

“Hmm,” you said thoughtfully, “so I could garden, bake, and blow things up all in one club?”

“Exactly!” Trey said with a smile.

Rook leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a stage whisper. “And think, mon cher—if you hone your talents here, you could support Vil in creating the cinematic beauty he so envisions! Science and art, united in harmony!”

You blinked. “Wait, are you trying to recruit me for this club and help Vil at the same time?”

Rook grinned. “Nature does not limit itself to one purpose, mon ami, and neither do I.”

Trey sighed but didn’t deny it.

“Well, this is definitely… something,” you said, nibbling on the cookie. “I’ll think about it.”

“Ah, a maybe!” Rook clasped his hands together like you’d just promised him your soul. “A victory in itself!”

Before you could say anything else, Rook twirled you toward the door, clearly ready to drag you to your next destination—or possibly just keep talking about “the poetry of chlorophyll” until you gave in.

Pop Music Club

Just as you were beginning to suspect Rook was about to wax poetic about “the lyrical mysteries of yeast fermentation,” a sudden voice interrupted.

“Oh-ho, what’s this?”

Before you could even react, Lilia Vanrouge materialized out of thin air, practically glowing with chaotic energy. “Ah, my dear friend! You’re far too bright a star to waste away on science experiments! Come with me—pop stardom awaits!”

You blinked. “Wait, what?”

And just like that, you were swept up in Lilia’s whirlwind. He dragged you down the hallway with a skip in his step and a mischievous laugh, leaving Rook and Trey in his dust.

“Lilia, I can walk, you know!” you said, stumbling to keep up.

“But where’s the drama in that?” Lilia replied, cackling as he pushed open the doors to the Pop Music Clubroom.

Inside, the room was a cacophony of sound and color. Disco lights spun, a half-finished banner reading ‘Next Big Thing!’ hung lopsidedly on the wall, and Kalim was gleefully banging away on a drum like it owed him money. Cater sat cross-legged on the floor, scrolling through his phone and periodically snapping selfies with sparkly filters.

“Oh, hey!” Kalim greeted you, waving so enthusiastically he almost hit himself with the drum stick. “You’re here to join us, right? This club is the best! We have music, dancing, and it’s all just super fun!”

Cater glanced up from his phone, his grin wide and just a little too calculated. “You’d fit right in! Think of all the magicam-worthy moments we could create together. Plus, the followers you’d get? Off the charts.”

“Followers?” you echoed, glancing at Lilia.

“Ah, but of course!” Lilia said, flinging his arms wide as if presenting you to an adoring crowd. “The Pop Music Club isn’t just about music—it’s about presence! Charisma! The ability to captivate a room with a single note or a dazzling smile!”

“It’s also about having a good time!” Kalim added, spinning in a circle for no reason other than sheer joy.

Cater nodded, holding up his phone. “And don’t forget—every moment is a potential viral video. You, me, Lilia, and Kalim as the dream team? We’d own the algorithm.”

You hesitated. “Uh, I don’t even play an instrument.”

“Neither does he!” Lilia said brightly, pointing at some unfortunate bystander.

“Hey!” he protested. “I play the Kalimba!” He promptly tried to play a note, missed the rhythm entirely, and Lilia laughed like it was the funniest thing ever.

“See?” Lilia said, unfazed. “Talent is optional here. All we need is your spirit!”

Cater stood, brushing imaginary dust off his pants. “We also dabble in choreography, so if you’ve got two left feet, don’t worry—we’ll teach you how to make them look intentional.”

“Come on, join us!” Kalim said, grabbing your hands and bouncing up and down like an overexcited puppy. “We could totally use your energy!”

“What energy?” you asked, deadpan. “I’ve been dragged between clubs all day—I barely have any left.”

“Exactly!” Lilia said with a wink. “We’ll channel what’s left into a glorious crescendo of pop music excellence!”

You weren’t sure whether to laugh, cry, or just surrender entirely to the chaos. Lilia’s grin was practically infectious, Kalim’s enthusiasm radiated like the sun, and Cater was already adjusting the angle of his phone to catch you in the best light.

“Well,” you muttered, “at least it sounds… lively.”

“Lively is an understatement,” Cater said, snapping a selfie with you and Lilia in the background. “Hashtag PopStarsInTheMaking! You’re gonna love it here.”

“Let me guess,” you said dryly. “You’re already planning to upload that, aren’t you?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Cater said with a wink.

Lilia clapped his hands, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “So, what do you say? Ready to unleash your inner star?”

“I… will think about it,” you replied, edging toward the door.

“Think fast!” Kalim called after you. “The bass is calling your name!”

You bolted before anyone could shove an instrument into your hands.

Equestrian Club

As you hurried down the hallway, still reeling from the pop music chaos you'd just escaped, you nearly collided with a flash of red.

"Ah, there you are!"

You blinked up at none other than Riddle Rosehearts, who looked as though he'd been scouring the entire school for you. His eyes narrowed, and his voice carried a tone of stern authority mixed with subtle relief.

"I've been looking for you," Riddle said, crossing his arms. "Ace and Deuce mentioned that you’re considering which club to join. As housewarden, it’s my responsibility to ensure you make a proper choice."

You blinked, still processing. "Oh, uh… thanks?"

"Enough dilly-dallying," Riddle said briskly, taking your wrist with surprising firmness. "You're coming with me to the Equestrian Club."

"Wait, what—"

Before you could finish, Riddle had already begun marching you toward the stables. You were half-dragged, half-guided, catching snippets of his lecture along the way about the merits of horseback riding, discipline, and poise.

When you arrived, the warm scent of hay filled the air, and the sound of soft nickering greeted you. The stables were pristine, the horses sleek and well-groomed. Standing nearby were Silver and Sebek, both tending to the horses.

"Riddle, you found them" Silver greeted you with his usual calm demeanor. He gave you a faint smile as he gently brushed a dappled gray mare. "Perfect timing—we were just about to go for a ride."

Sebek, on the other hand, straightened like a soldier at attention, his voice booming. "THEY WILL JOIN US, OF COURSE! IT IS ONLY FITTING FOR AN INDIVIDUAL OF WORTH TO EMBRACE SUCH A NOBLE ART!"

"Sebek, indoor voice," Riddle said sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I AM OUTDOORS!" Sebek retorted, though he did lower his volume slightly.

You glanced nervously at the horses. "Uh, I don’t know if I’m… horse material."

"Nonsense," Riddle said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Riding teaches discipline, focus, and responsibility. It’s the perfect club for fostering growth—and for avoiding unnecessary distractions like some less dignified clubs."

"Pop Music Club?" you guessed.

Riddle sniffed, his expression sour. "Among others."

Silver walked over, still holding the brush, and gave you a reassuring nod. "Don’t worry. The horses are gentle, and we can teach you everything. It’s a peaceful activity once you get used to it."

"Peaceful!" Sebek exclaimed, throwing his arms wide. "It is a pursuit befitting the greatest warriors! EVEN LORD MALLEUS—"

"Sebek," Riddle interrupted, his patience clearly wearing thin. "Focus on the matter at hand."

"Apologies!" Sebek barked, saluting.

Riddle turned back to you, his expression softening just a fraction. "The Equestrian Club isn’t just about riding horses. It’s about elegance, partnership, and understanding. You could benefit greatly from it."

"And the horses are great listeners," Silver added.

"Unlike some humans," Sebek muttered under his breath.

You bit back a laugh as Riddle gave Sebek another glare.

"What do you say?" Riddle asked, stepping aside to let you see one of the horses—a chestnut with a kind, inquisitive gaze. "This is Vorpal. Perhaps a ride would convince you?"

The horse whinnied softly, and for a moment, you considered it. There was something appealing about the tranquility of the stables, the camaraderie of the club members, and the undeniable charm of working with such majestic creatures.

But then you remembered the drum chaos, the science experiments, and Vil’s dramatic vetting process.

"Let me, uh… think about it?" you said, taking a step back.

Riddle sighed, though he looked more exasperated than disappointed. "Very well. But don’t wait too long—indecision is unbecoming."

"Yeah," you mumbled. "Got it."

As you made your escape, you could hear Sebek booming, "RIDING A HORSE WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE!"

You weren’t sure about that, but you were certain that escaping club recruitment was starting to feel like an Olympic sport.

Magift Club

As you staggered away from the stables, thoroughly frazzled by Sebek’s enthusiastic yelling and Riddle’s intense lecture on discipline, you barely had time to catch your breath before—

“Yo, gotcha!”

A pair of hands grabbed your shoulders from behind, and you let out a very undignified yelp. You turned to find Ruggie grinning up at you like a mischievous hyena that had just found its next meal.

“Ruggie! What—?”

“No time for questions, boss,” he said, practically dragging you down the path. “Leona’s orders. He told me to bring ya to the Magift Club.”

“The Magift Club?” you repeated, already sensing disaster.

Ruggie nodded, smirking. “Yup. Let’s go, let’s go!”

“But—wait—I don’t even have magic!” you protested as he hauled you toward the field.

“Details, details,” Ruggie waved off, his grip on your arm firm.

Soon enough, you were dumped unceremoniously on the sidelines of the Magift field. Leona was lounging on the grass under the shade of a tree, looking entirely too comfortable for someone allegedly trying to recruit you. Epel was nearby, aggressively practicing his throws while muttering something that sounded suspiciously like “I’ll show ‘em.”

Leona cracked one eye open lazily as Ruggie dropped you off. “’Bout time,” he drawled.

“Leona,” you said flatly, “why would you want me in the Magift Club? I don't even have magic.”

He yawned, looking entirely unbothered. “Yeah, I know that. You’re still better than the other herbivores running around. You can be the manager.”

“Manager?”

“Yup,” Ruggie chimed in, plopping down next to Leona. “You’d handle all the boring stuff—paperwork, schedules, snacks, makin’ sure Epel doesn’t throw a fit when he gets tackled.”

“I don’t throw fits!” Epel yelled, narrowly missing a hoop with his throw.

Leona smirked. “Sure you don’t.”

You crossed your arms, unconvinced. “Why me, though? You’re telling me I’m the best candidate for this?”

Leona sat up slightly, his sharp eyes locking on yours. “I’m sayin’ you’re the least annoying option. I don’t need some herbivore manager who’s gonna cry every time I take a nap instead of practicing. You’re not useless, so quit whining.”

Ruggie leaned in conspiratorially. “Basically, you’re the only one Leona doesn’t feel like chasing off the field after two days.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like a ringing endorsement.”

Leona shrugged. “Take it or leave it. Makes no difference to me.”

At that moment, Epel ran up, panting slightly from his practice. “C’mon, you should join us!” he urged. “You don’t need magic to be part of the team. And if you ever wanna learn some tricks, I can teach ya!”

Leona gave him a lazy side-eye. “Don’t scare them off.”

“I’m not scarin’ ‘em! I’m convincin’ ‘em!” Epel shot back, glaring at Leona before turning back to you. “Seriously, we could use someone like you. The club’s fun, I promise!”

Ruggie snickered. “Fun’s a stretch. It’s more like… survival of the fittest with a ball involved.”

“And napping,” Leona added with a smirk.

Epel crossed his arms. “Well, maybe if someone practiced instead of nappin’, we’d win more games!”

Leona waved him off with a scoff.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “I don’t know, guys. This sounds like a lot of chaos.”

“Chaos is half the fun,” Ruggie said with a grin. “C’mon, boss, think of all the free food we get during games. And you’d get to boss Leona around as the manager. Ain’t that worth it?”

Leona snorted. “Good luck with that.”

You glanced at the trio—Epel brimming with determination, Ruggie radiating mischief, and Leona looking like he didn’t care but also somehow cared just enough to try. It was… weirdly tempting, in its own way.

“I’ll… think about it,” you said finally.

“Fair enough,” Leona said, already reclining again. “Don’t take too long, though. We’ve got a game next week, and I’m not filling out paperwork.”

Ruggie winked. “Don’t worry, you’ll come around. Everyone does.”

As you left the field, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just been almost recruited into something much more taxing than a simple club.

Mountain Lovers Club

Before you could escape the Magift field and all its potential paperwork, you took a sharp turn—only to smack right into what felt like a wall of polite menace. A soft, knowing chuckle sounded above you.

“Oh dear, do be careful,” came Jade Leech’s unmistakably smooth voice.

You took a step back, already dreading the conversation. “Jade,” you said warily, “what are you doing here?”

His sharp smile grew ever so slightly. “Waiting for you, of course. Word travels fast, and I’ve heard you’re in the market for a club.”

“Oh no,” you muttered. “You’re not here to—”

Before you could finish, he was already guiding you away, his hand light on your arm but unyielding, like a vice hidden under a silk glove.

“Come now,” he said, his tone as polite as ever, “I simply must show you the Mountain Lovers Club.”

“The what now?” you asked, bewildered.

“The Mountain Lovers Club,” he repeated, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“And… who else is in this club?”

“Why, just me.”

You stopped in your tracks. “It’s just you?”

“Yes.” Jade smiled serenely, as if this were not a glaring red flag. “I am the founder, leader, and sole member. But with your arrival, that could very well change.”

You blinked at him, unsure if you’d misheard. “Wait, so you’ve been running a one-person club this whole time?”

“Indeed.” His expression didn’t falter in the slightest. “The Mountain Lovers Club is dedicated to the appreciation of all things mountainous. Hiking through beautiful terrain, foraging for wild plants, observing unique ecosystems, and—on occasion—befriending the local fauna.”

“Befriending?”

“Examining, petting, observing closely…” His eyes gleamed. “Perhaps all three.”

You shook your head, trying to process. “So… why me?”

Jade clasped his hands together, the picture of poised enthusiasm. “You strike me as someone who appreciates unique experiences. The Mountain Lovers Club offers a chance to explore the great outdoors, expand your horizons, and develop a deeper appreciation for nature’s wonders.”

“And by ‘great outdoors,’ you mean mountains?”

“Precisely.”

“And it’s just you?”

“For now,” he said, his tone warm but his gaze uncomfortably intense. “But every great journey begins with a single step. Yours could be joining this club.”

You gave a nervous laugh. “Uh… I don’t think hiking through mountains is really my thing.”

“Ah, but how do you know unless you try?” Jade’s smile widened. “Besides, I’ll be there to guide you every step of the way. No need to worry about getting lost… or encountering anything unexpected.”

The way he said “unexpected” made you want to run for the hills (ironic, given the circumstances).

“Look, I appreciate the offer, but—”

“I insist,” he cut in smoothly, his tone polite but with a note of finality. “At least allow me to show you the club’s activities. Perhaps a short hike this weekend? I’ve already prepared a route.”

You stared at him. “You’ve already…?”

“Of course.” His gaze was calm, calculating. “Preparation is key. I’ve even packed a lunch.”

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Jade, I—”

He tilted his head, his smile remaining perfectly composed. “Surely you wouldn’t refuse without at least giving it a chance? I’ve put so much thought into this.”

“Why do I feel like I don’t have a choice?” you muttered.

Jade’s smile was razor-sharp and utterly unrepentant. “Because you don’t.”

You sighed in defeat. “Fine. One hike.”

“Excellent,” he said, his tone soft and victorious. “I’ll see you this Saturday at dawn.”

“Dawn?!”

“Oh yes,” he said, his eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. “The mountains are at their most beautiful in the early morning light. You’ll love it.”

As he sauntered away, leaving you to process your fate, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just agreed to something far more treacherous than a simple hike.

Gargoyle Research Society

The moment you finally reached Ramshackle Dorm, exhausted from the whirlwind of club-hopping and increasingly bizarre sales pitches, you let out a long sigh of relief. The day had been nothing short of chaotic, and all you wanted was to collapse onto your creaky old bed and forget the words “club activities” ever existed.

But just as your hand touched the doorknob, a familiar voice, deep and regal, called out from the shadows.

“Child of man.”

You jumped slightly, spinning around to see none other than Malleus Draconia emerging from beneath the pale light of the moon, his presence as imposing and enigmatic as always. He stood by one of Ramshackle’s crumbling stone walls, his expression calm but his eyes bright with an unreadable intensity.

“Oh, Malleus,” you said, your voice tinged with weariness but also a touch of warmth. “Didn’t see you there.”

He tilted his head ever so slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “I was merely admiring the architecture of your dorm. It has a certain… wistful charm.”

You smiled faintly. “I guess that’s one way to put it.”

Then, with the sort of graceful confidence only Malleus could manage, he stepped closer, his presence looming but never threatening. “I have heard,” he began, his tone soft and deliberate, “that you have been seeking a club to join.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard. “How did you—”

“The winds carry whispers,” he said cryptically.

“Right,” you muttered, deciding not to question it.

Malleus folded his hands neatly in front of him, looking every bit the picture of regal sincerity. “If you have not yet made your decision… I would like to invite you to join my club.”

Your brain, still reeling from Jade’s mountain escapades and Leona’s managerial demands, stalled for a moment. “Your… club?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice brimming with quiet pride. “The Gargoyle Research Society.”

“The… what now?”

“The Gargoyle Research Society,” he repeated, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I am both its founder and sole member.”

Of course, he was.

Malleus seemed oblivious to your stunned silence as he continued, his expression softening into something almost earnest. “The society is dedicated to the appreciation and study of gargoyles. We explore the campus, observing their intricate designs and marveling at their history. There is so much beauty in their silent watch over us.”

You blinked. “So… you just walk around and look at gargoyles?”

“Precisely,” he said, his tone unironically enthusiastic.

“And… that’s it?”

Malleus nodded solemnly. “Indeed. It is a noble pursuit, one that nurtures both the mind and the spirit.”

For a moment, you were at a loss for words. Of all the clubs you’d encountered today, this might just take the crown for most niche.

Malleus, however, seemed utterly earnest. His eyes bore into yours, his expression sincere and unguarded. “I understand if this does not align with your current interests,” he said, his voice softening. “But should you ever feel the call of the gargoyles… know that you are always welcome.”

There was something so genuine in his tone, so quietly hopeful, that you felt a pang of guilt for even thinking about brushing him off. You sighed, offering him a tired but sincere smile. “You know what? I’ll definitely consider it.”

Malleus’s eyes lit up, his calm demeanor giving way to a flicker of pure joy. “Truly?”

“Truly,” you said, nodding.

“Then I shall look forward to the day you join me,” he said, his voice as soft as a promise.

With that, he gave you a small, graceful bow before disappearing back into the night, leaving you to wonder how you’d managed to end the day not only agreeing to a potential club but also feeling oddly flattered by the idea of studying gargoyles.

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “What a day…”

Masterlist

Part 2: Choosing a club

a/n: it completely slipped my mind that ortho is in film studies sorry :(

[nezuscribe]

(slightly suggestive)

another little drabble for arranged marriage!gojo but imagine a moment before he confessed but something was looming over the two of you. it was crossing the line of friends, not necessarily husband and wife, but two people desperately in love and didn't know how to say it.

you were in one of your late-night frenzies, your brain so muddled with every thought that you decided to do what you knew best: bake.

you often find yourself in this situation as of late, but it truly seems to be the only thing that helps. you wanted to tell gojo how you were feeling, but it was too far in, so you decided something simple and sugary would help you in the moment.

at this point, the walk to the kitchens was something you could do blind, and considering how many times you did this, you already knew where all the ingredients were.

you set out your sugar and flower, and go rummaging in the cold cellar for some butter and eggs. you try not to think about how at dinner gojo slid closer to you, your arms touching as he leaned in to whisper something in your ear. or how a couple days ago he had found you in the library, reading next to a windowsill, cozying up next to you as he read the book over your shoulder.

you're so lost in your head with sifting the ingredients that you fail to realize that the very man himself had come up secretly behind you, curiously watching you in your element.

(he'd never admit that he'd first gone to your room, and only came down here after he realized you were gone).

but, unlike the last couple of times, you'd gotten used to his stealthy ways. he was quiet, sure, but you could recognize him by his slight breath alone, or the way he smelled faintly of cloves.

you try not to let your breathing hitch, or let a smile grow on your face as you decide to break the silence.

"if you try to scare me while i'm baking you better rethink your choices," you warn him and hear gojo snicker quietly behind you.

gojo moves from where he was standing, and he leans his back against the counter next to you, craning his neck to look over at your bowl.

your eyes dart to the side, to the way his arms are resting behind him as he balances himself back on them (or the way his arms bulge and veins pop).

"what's on your mind tonight?" gojo asks, knowing you only do this now whenever you're stressed out.

"not much," you mutter, despite wanting to say you, you're on my mind.

he tsks, not buying your lie as he leans in a little close, his head blocking your view of your mixing bowl as he tries to get a little taste with his fingers.

"hey!" you cry, smacking him lightly on the back of his neck, "your hands are all grimy!"

you watch as he peers at you from the corner of his eyes, glaring at your offensive remark as he retracts away, a small pout on his face as you grin in slight victory.

"my hands are clean," you hear him mumble petulantly and you chuckle, rolling your eyes at his antics. the closer the two of you got, the more you found out that his closed-off and aloof demeanor was just a facade for a dramatic, grouchy man-child.

there's a comfortable silence for a moment, one where you're mixing and one where he watches you mix. you don't really notice the quiet anymore, just another added sound when you and gojo grow more comfortable together.

"how was your day?" he finally asks, a simple question, but you know he's using it as a mask to find out what was wrong with you.

"good," you say with a shrug, starting to gently fold in your wet mixture with your dry one, "you weren't at dinner so i was actually able to eat in peace," you add, trying to sound indifferent when really it's what spurred this entire thing on. how, when you realized that you missed seeing him, talking to him, being near him, you were really, really, missing him. and that's not how friends are supposed to act. or, at least, from what you've heard.

gojo smiles, a soft look on his face. you're trying to be sarcastic, he knows that, but there's something...deeper behind your words, something that he too feels.

"the eastern tribe took up more time than i thought they would," he explains, his blue eyes glowing when he notices the way you slightly relax, "i tried telling them that my wife was waiting for me, but apparently peace negotiations can't be postponed."

you bite your lips, trying to hold back your giddy smile at his words. you know he's probably teasing you, using the phrase my wife as a way to get out of a boring meeting, but you love it nonetheless.

he knows you do.

"those bastards," you murmur teasingly, hearing his loud laugh as he lightly shoves you with the point of his boot.

"yeah, well, they don't have wives back home," he crosses his arms over his chest, pressing his lips into a thin line, "so they don't know the feeling."

you swallow thickly, not looking over at him when he says that.

there's another silence as you continue to fold the batter, sensing that same feeling wash over the two of you.

"let me grab a..." you turn around, head craning to look for a spoon to dip in the batter, needing to make sure the sweetness wasn't too overbearing (and because you liked tasting the batter before it was sent off to be baked thoroughly), but stop when gojo pulls the bowl in closer to him.

you watch as he glides his finger across the sides, not letting it touch the actual bulk of the mixture, and brings it forth towards your lips.

his brows cock upwards, as if he was waiting for you to try it.

you give him a look, nose slightly wrinkled.

"i swear my hands are clean," he promises, crossing one hand over his chest as a sort of pledge, but that's not what holding you back, shouldn't he know that?

your mind is working to beat the thrill of your heart, the one that's pulling you towards him like a magnet, the one that desperately wants to have his finger in your mouth.

you bite your cheek for a second, eyes flickering up from his to his finger, and some sort of heat in you takes control as one hand gently grabs his wrist, pulling his hand closer to your parted lips.

your tongue darts out, your mouth closing over the digit as you taste the sugary batter coating your tongue. you feel dizzy, your stomach twisting, a heat taking over your body as your tongue swipes over it, licking it clean.

it's nothing overexaggerated, nothing too crazy. you lick his finger the way you'd like your own, but fuck, this isn't your own finger and gojo's looking at you with his pupils blown wide, the blacks overtaking the blue in his eyes.

your hand is still holding his wrist, your lips gliding over it as you pull away, breathing slightly less when you glance up at him.

gojo swallows thickly, hoping you don't see the bulge that's growing in his pants.

"good?" he chokes out, his voice thick in his throat.

"yeah," you mutter, the batter still lingering on your tastebuds, "it's perfect."

fuck, you're both screwed.

[classyrbf]

YOU'RE PREGNANT! — JJK MEN

SYNOPSIS...how the jjk men(toji, gojo, geto, nanami, choso) act when you’re 9 months pregnant and ready to pop

INFO...jjk men x fem!reader, fluff, comfort, reader is pregnant (obvi), mention of mood swings, cravings, emotional reader, jjk men being great dads

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

TOJI

toji has already dealt with this kind of thing before when it came to megumi, but it’s been so long that he’s almost forgotten what it was like. You’re waddling around the house, a stank look on your face as you stare at him. “Yes?” He questions, eyebrows raised. “I want food,” you simply answer. “Okay, what do you want?” He asks. And when you tell him you’re not sure, he lets out a long sigh because he knows this is gonna end in you getting emotional. You’ll complain your back hurts, your feet hurt, and then you’ll end up cursing him out for putting a baby in you. So all he does is walks over to you, and hugs you because he’d rather do that than get into a stupid argument about food. “Toji!” You cry into his arms. “I’m just so hungry and I don’t know what to eat!” You sniffle. To help with your problem, he starts listing off every fast food restaurant and food he could think of in hopes you’d find one appealing enough. “Chinese food?” He shrugs. You gasp with excitement. “Ugh, yes! Me and the baby could go for some orange chicken!” You smile. Toji just chuckles, “making the call right now, sweetheart.” He watches as you waddle over to the couch, smiling like a kid in a candy store.

GOJO

ever since he found out you were pregnant, he was at the stores buying whatever supplies he saw, doesn’t matter if you needed it or not. And till this day, when you’re about a few weeks from popping, he’s still buying the baby things. “What do you think of this, eh?” He smirks, holding up a onesie that says “my dad is the best”. “You’re gonna spoil her rotten, is what I think,” you groan as you reach into the bag to see what else he bought for your daughter. “More toys?” You hold up a fake set of plastic keys. Gojo snatched them from you. “I’ll have you know that she will be learning life skills at a very young age, thank you very much,” he scoffed. All you did was laugh, shaking your head at him in disbelief. Your daughter’s room was filled to the brim with clothes, toys, blankets, you were starting to wonder if you had any more room. “I can already tell she’s going to be a daddy’s girl,” you said with a sigh, rubbing your belly. “Yes she is,” Gojo leaned in towards your very plump belly, “isn’t that right?” He placed a kiss on your stomach.

NANAMI

nanami is the type that doesn’t let you do a damn thing by yourself. You’re reach for something to high on the shelf, he’s sprinting towards you, ready to be at your service. “Be careful,” he says, rubbing your back. “Kento, I got it,” you chuckle. His eyes are always on you, watching your every move. Especially when you’re in public, he hates when people get too close to you. He knows others don’t watch their surroundings and could easily bump into you. “Ken!” You shout from the bedroom. “Yes?” He peeks his head around the corner. “Can you help me get my shoes on, I can’t even reach,” you pout. Within seconds he’s on his knees, slipping on your sandals, and tying them around your ankle. He will even go as far as to paint your toes if you forgot because he knows how much you hate not having them done. Like I said, he won’t let you do a thing by yourself. “Thank you, Ken,” you kiss his lips.

GETO

geto literally pampers you. I’m not saying he acts like nanami, but I’m saying that he makes your pregnancy as comfortable as possible. “Sugu, baby, can you rub my feet? They’re swollen.” You frown. “Of course.” He grabs the lotion and casually massages your feet while you’re both watching a movie, and literally over the course of your pregnancy he’s become the best masseuse ever. He’ll also randomly creep up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist before lifting your belly, feeling the weight off of your back. “Feel better, mama?” He kisses your cheek. “So much better.” You nod, closing your eyes as you embrace the moment. You’ve even found it hard to shower while being pregnant and geto takes it upon himself to help you, albeit jumping in the shower with you or sitting on the edge of the tub while you’re in the bath. “Is the water too hot?” He rubs the soapy water over your shoulders. “It’s perfect.”

CHOSO

I’m sorry but choso is clueless. Not in a bad way, but in like a panicky way. You’re an emotional wreck through your pregnancy, moods swings like crazy. “Can you just get out please?!” You’re annoyed with him, bothered about the littlest thing ever and then in the next two minutes you’re walking out the room just crying and apologizing to him, kissing his cheek. He has no idea what the hell is going on, and you’d think he’d learn after nine months, but no. All he can is just sit there and comfort you. “It’s fine,” he assures. He gets your favorite food that you’ve been craving for the past two weeks, eating it non stop and then within a split second you’re gagging, pushing the food away. “Oh my gosh, Choso! Please throw it away, it tastes so bad.” You gag again. “But…I…you were just eating this yesterday…?” He’s says, confused before throwing the bowl of food in the garbage. Quite literally doesn’t understand anything, just confused to all hell, but he’s trying his best.

[punkshort]

Have A Good Night

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Every week like clockwork, the same devastatingly handsome man comes into the grocery store where you work to buy flowers. It's not until he asks you out when you realize the flowers aren't for his wife or girlfriend.

Warnings: no outbreak AU, language, flirting, alcohol and food consumption, smut (18+ MDNI), protected piv sex, size kink, shy!joel, fluff, mutual pining, cringy/embarrassing crush interactions

WC: 7.9K

Written for @morallyinept's Flora & Fauna Challenge (masterlist here)

dividers by the one and only @saradika-graphics

It was never roses that he bought. That should have been your first clue.

Every Friday he came through your checkout lane with a beautiful flower arrangement. Sometimes it was lilies, sometimes it was daffodils, but never roses.

He hardly spared you a glance when he slid his card through the machine. Occasionally he would comment about the weather or how busy the store was, but he rarely ever made eye contact.

It wasn't unusual and it didn't offend you. Most customers had other things on their minds and they preferred to get in and out of the store as quickly as possible. But this particular customer, the one with dark hair and eyes, broad shoulders and patchy beard always caught your eye. It was the best part of your week. You never had the nerve to say anything to him, but your friend Andy noticed the way you always got nervous when you saw him standing in line, how your demeanor shifted and your hands shook just a little bit.

He's not wearing a ring, Andy pointed out one day as you counted your drawer. You rolled your eyes.

That doesn't mean anything, you replied. Why else would he be buying flowers?

Then one day, as you scanned your handsome stranger's flowers, you noticed a few of the daisies were wilting.

"Do you want to pick out a different bouquet?" you had mustered up the courage to ask. The store was quiet, no one was lined up behind him. There was a big football game that night and it kept most people at home.

His eyes snapped up to yours and he froze like a deer in the headlights. You raised your eyebrows, waiting for an answer while trying to think if you said something stupid to warrant such a delayed reaction. "A few of these flowers are already dying. See?" You tilted the bouquet in his direction so he could see the flowers with the petals that were turning brown.

"Oh," he finally said, then nodded his head. "Y-yeah, thanks. D'you mind if I just-" he jutted his thumb over his shoulder.

"It's no big deal, I'll wait."

He gave you a crooked grin and disappeared back into the store. The florist department wasn't far from the registers but it was enough time for Andy to lock eyes with you from customer service and give you a look. You rolled your eyes at him and turned back around just as the hot flower guy was returning with a new selection.

"Thanks," he said again once you handed him his receipt. He didn't make a move to leave.

"Don't mention it," you replied, feeling Andy's stupid grin burning into the back of your head the longer hot flower guy stood there.

"Have you worked here long?" he asked after a brief silence that was bordering on uncomfortable. You blinked, taken aback at the random question and tried to ignore your heart fluttering excitedly in your chest.

"Um, just over four years," you replied. His beautiful dark eyes drifted over your face as he nodded and swallowed before looking back down at his flowers.

"You work most Fridays?"

You could feel your cheeks warming up and you wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole. How can someone be embarrassed for being embarrassed? Jesus, you were such a mess.

"Yep," you said, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear and praying he didn't notice how flushed you were.

He rubbed the back of his neck and shifted his weight. If you weren't so absorbed in your own uneasiness you might have noticed he was acting just as uncomfortable as you.

When he opened his mouth to say something else, a middle aged woman pushed her cart up behind him and began to unload her groceries onto the belt. He glanced quickly over his shoulder and nervously swiped his palm over his mouth.

"Have a good night," he told you abruptly, and before you had a chance to reply he was halfway to the front door.

The following week was busier and you lost track of time. Typically, as your shift dragged on, you began to anticipate his arrival but on that particular day, you were distracted. Andy ended up having to help out on another register, it was so busy.

"You wanna come out with us tonight?" Andy asked you over his shoulder. He was closing down the extra register while you were finishing up with a young mom who had her hands full wrangling her toddler away from the candy.

"Uh, yeah, sure," you agreed absentmindedly, lifting the last paper bag into the cart. You tapped a key on your register so she could slide her card through the reader and looked over at Andy. "Where are you guys going?"

"Murray's," he replied immediately, his focus still on counting the coins in the drawer. You rolled your eyes and grinned.

"Why am I not surprised?"

It was well known Andy harbored a huge crush on a bartender there and he had been trying to work up the courage for months to ask for her number.

"Thank you, have a good night," you told the young woman, handing over her receipt with a smile. When you glanced up to greet your next customer, you felt your heart skip a beat when you were met with those dark brown eyes you had grown so enamored with.

"It must be later than I thought," you said, without even thinking twice. Surprise passed over his beautiful features as you scanned his flowers and then your nerves finally caught up with you. "I-I mean, you usually come in around the same time every week," you explained hurriedly. Andy was smirking at you from behind hot flower guy's broad shoulder and you made a mental note to punch him later.

"I didn't realize you noticed," he replied after he cleared his throat.

Oh, you idiot. You could tell you made him uncomfortable with your comment and you just prayed he didn't figure out you had been lusting after him all these months with the little observation you made.

"You always pick out the best flower arrangements, it's hard not to," Andy piped up. Relief flooded your veins for the save. Maybe you should rethink that punch. "Must be one lucky girl," he added with a mischievous wink in your direction before picking up the drawer and walking towards the office, leaving just the two of you with Andy's loaded comment hanging heavy in the air.

He took his time pulling his credit card out of his wallet, wracking his brain for something to say. His cheeks dusted with pink the longer he took to formulate a sentence.

"So... Murray's, huh?" he asked, cringing inwardly at the stupid question as he swiped his card.

You blinked, confused at the change in topic until it clicked. "Oh, yeah. He drags a bunch of us out after work sometimes because he's got a thing for a girl who works there." You gave the man behind hot flower guy a smile as he unloaded his groceries on the belt.

Your handsome stranger froze, his hand still holding the receipt midair while the gears turned in his head.

"So, you two aren't-"

"Oh, sorry, excuse me," the customer behind him mumbled when he accidentally bumped into him with his cart.

"Have a good night," you told him with a sweet smile, then quickly turned away, hoping your hair would hide your embarrassment.

"I am not playing darts with her! Don't you remember last time? She almost took my eye out!"

"Oh, shut the fuck up!" you laughed, shoving Courtney, another co-worker of yours, in the shoulder. There were only five of you that night, Courtney being the only other girl in your group, but you were fine with that. Over the past few years you all bonded over the shared trauma of nasty customers and terrible management to the point where you were like family, and nights where you blew off steam only brought you closer together.

"Anyone need anything? I'm heading up," Andy shouted over the live band.

"Didn't you just get a water a minute ago?" you teased, knowing full well he was looking for an excuse to talk to the bartender.

"What can I say? I'm thirsty," Andy replied with a smirk before pushing his way through the crowd to get to the bar.

"When the hell's he just gonna ask her out? We've been coming here for months," Courtney said, turning away from the bar to look at you. You took a sip from your mixed drink and shrugged.

"Probably for the best. You know if he makes things weird then we'll need to find a new spot to hang out."

She giggled and winced when the band began to sing Journey off-key. "God, these guys are... not it."

"I think it's the owner's way of making us drink more!" James shouted from across the table, the four of you dissolving into laughter. He had a good point because your drink was nearly empty.

"Why didn't you just have Andy get you one?" Courtney asked when you slid down from your barstool.

"If I did, there was, like, a one percent chance he would bring it back to me within the hour," you told her, nodding towards Andy setting up shop against the bar, his eyes trailing after the cute bartender.

It took several minutes but you were finally able to wedge yourself between other patrons and secure a refill of your drink, but when you turned around to walk back to your table you nearly ran right into someone's chest.

"Oh! Sorry, I - " your eyes widened when you tilted your head up to find those familiar brown eyes staring down at you. "It-it's you!" you finally said as the shock began to wear off. He gave you a lopsided grin and nodded.

"Joel," he offered, sticking his hand out. Joel. Joel. Joel. You rolled his name around in your head like a ping pong ball. It suited him.

You took his hand, his long fingers dwarfing yours. "I'm-"

Then he cut you off and said your name and once again, you struggled to keep the shock from your face. "Your nametag," he explained, letting your hand go and gesturing towards his own chest where a nametag would sit. "I remember."

"Yeah," you said breathlessly with a smile. You glanced around the room while people shoved past you to get to the bar. "What are you doing here?"

His smile faltered a bit and he rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't live too far. Had the night to myself so I came out with my brother. He's over there," Joel pointed to the opposite corner of the bar but it was impossible to see him through all the people.

"Oh, cool," you nodded and took a sip from your glass. His eyes drifted to your lips, getting lost in the way they puckered around the straw. "Do you guys come here a lot?"

He chuckled and dropped his chin shyly to his chest before shaking his head. "No, um," he cleared his throat and looked back up at you. "Was hopin' I would run into you, actually."

"Me?" you squeaked and your heart began to race. He nodded and grinned.

"Yeah. Wondered if maybe you'd-"

A huge, burly man who definitely had too much to drink shouldered past you, accidentally shoving you into Joel's chest. His arms immediately wrapped around your ribs to steady you and somehow you didn't spill anything on his clothes.

"God, I'm sorry," you mumbled, his scent making you dizzy. You always had a register between you. Never before had you been that close, noticing he smelled like he had just gotten out of the shower and it was instantly overwhelming.

"It's alright," he said, his arms still loosely wrapped around your midsection. "But I gotta get this out before I lose my nerve, darlin'."

Darlin'. Your brows furrowed and before you could reply, he spoke. "I wondered if you wanted to go out on a date sometime? Maybe a movie or somethin'? I know you work alotta nights but I -"

"You want to go out with me?" you asked in disbelief. He looked at you like you had two heads.

"'Course I do. Wasn't it obvious?" he could feel the heat creeping up his neck.

"No! I thought... nevermind, it doesn't matter," you told him, a smile pulling across your lips. "Yes, I would love to. God, if you only knew-" you stopped yourself by slapping your hand over your mouth and he quirked a playful eyebrow at you but he was too excited that you agreed to go out with him to ask you to finish your thought. He handed you his phone as you shakily typed in your number, hoping your trembling fingers didn't mess it up before giving it back to him.

"I'm gonna text you tomorrow, set somethin' up, yeah?" he asked and you nodded numbly, your mind reeling as you tried to process everything that was happening. He grinned and slid his phone back into his pocket. "Have a good night," he said, the familiar phrase making you smile before disappearing into the crowd.

"Um, who the hell was that?" Courtney questioned the second you arrived back at your table.

"I need a fucking shot first and then I'll tell you, holy shit," you said, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves with no success. She laughed and got you each tequila shots, then you spent the rest of the night telling her all about Joel the hot flower guy.

The next morning, you paid for your crimes. Your head throbbed and your mouth was dry as sand as you stumbled into your bathroom to scoop water from the faucet, desperately trying to quench your thirst. You weren't normally a huge drinker, but after your run-in with Joel, you were so nervous that you found yourself tossing back a few extra drinks than normal. Fortunately, you didn't work until late afternoon, so after you fumbled around your cupboards for some crackers, you fell back into bed. Your eyes widened when you saw a missed text from an unsaved number an hour ago.

Hey, it's Joel. It was great running into you last night. I was thinking we could go to dinner this week, if you're still up for it. What nights are you free?

"Shit," you muttered, running a hand anxiously through your hair. Now that you were sober, the prospect of seeing hot flower guy outside of work made you inexplicably nervous.

You must have typed out and deleted fifteen responses before going with I would love to! I'm free Sunday, Monday and Wednesday nights. Or we could do something after I get out of work, we close at nine.

Did you sound too desperate? You chewed on your fingernail as you read your sent text over and over, then shrugged and put your phone down. Too late now, anyway.

It took a while to get his response, but to be fair, you didn't reply to him for an hour.

I can make Sunday work.

Sunday? As in, tomorrow?

"Oh, fuck," you groaned, fully not expecting him to set something up so quickly. You needed time to mentally prepare, but of course you agreed, then quickly texted Courtney, begging for her help on what to wear and how to do your hair.

Yay!! We can talk about it at work tonight!

After you ironed out a time and restaurant with Joel, you popped two pain relievers and chugged some water, hoping to get rid of your hangover before work.

"Okay, so where's he taking you?" Courtney asked excitedly as you stocked cereal together.

"This Italian place on Westwood. Here, I looked it up," you said, pulling out your phone and showing her the menu. "Have you been there before? What do I wear?"

She squinted at your screen and shook her head. "I haven't been there but we can figure this out. It doesn't look that fancy, but you should probably wear a dress or skirt."

"Ooo, do you finally have yourself a date?" Andy asked from halfway down the aisle, clearly overhearing part of your conversation. "Hot flower guy is going to be so disappointed."

You laughed and pocketed your phone. "It's with hot flower guy," you said triumphantly. Andy's eyes bugged out of his head, confused, until you and Courtney explained what happened the night before when he was busy staring at the bartender.

"You should have told me last night! So I guess that means he really is single."

You paused and cocked your head to the side, realizing all of the sudden you still didn't know why he bought flowers every Friday.

"Uh, yeah, I guess so," you replied, turning your attention back to the cereal. Andy and Courtney exchanged worried glances behind your back.

"I'm sure he's not stupid enough to buy flowers from you for another woman every week and then ask you out," Courtney said, glaring at Andy. He cleared his throat and nodded.

"Y-yeah, I mean, maybe they're for a grave or something."

You both turned to him and gave him an incredulous look.

"Hey, I'm just trying to help," he said, throwing up his hands and walking away. You bit your lip and glanced at Courtney.

"Don't worry about it. There's tons of reasons why guys would buy flowers weekly... maybe he just likes to have fresh flowers in the house. Maybe they're for his mom!"

"Yeah, good point. I bet they're for his mom," you agreed, feeling a little better as you ripped open the next cardboard box full of cereal boxes.

When you woke on Sunday morning, you were already nervous. You could have sworn your heart was slamming in your chest from the moment you opened your eyes, already overthinking your date with Joel.

You spent the afternoon texting Courtney pictures of outfits you hauled out of your closet and tossed on your bed, then decided you needed to try them on for her to get the full effect. You were sitting on your bed, wearing a light blue sundress, the last outfit you had tried on as you gathered your pictures. Your thumb quickly tapped all of the photos of you modeling your options and typed out what one looks the best? then hit send.

As you were unzipping your dress and sliding it down your legs, you heard your phone ping from your bed. You hung up the dress and pulled your sweats back on before reaching for your phone, hesitating when you saw Joel's name pop up. You felt a pit in your stomach, worried that he came to his senses and was asking to cancel, so you sat down on the bed before sliding your thumb over the screen to open his text.

You look great in everything, but I really like the pink one.

Your palms instantly broke out into a sweat and you felt lightheaded.

"Oh no, oh no, oh no," you mumbled, scrolling up in your text chain before cursing and throwing yourself into your pillows to scream. In your rush to send your text, you accidentally sent the pictures to Joel instead of Courtney. You waited until you got your bearings and tried to convince yourself it wasn't really that bad, that it definitely could have been worse, before replying.

Ha, sorry. I meant to send those to a friend, but if you like the pink one, then I guess that answers my question

You stared down at your phone, anxiously waiting for his answer, which didn't take very long at all.

You could wear a paper sack and you would still look beautiful.

The grin that stretched across your face was massive. He was probably just sweet talking you and trying to make you feel better about making such a stupid mistake, but damn, it worked.

Looking forward to tonight :) you said in response, then bit your lip and flung yourself backwards on your bed. Your eyes drifted to the light pink dress hanging in your closet and you smiled.

As it turned out, the Italian restaurant was owned by Joel's brother, Tommy. You met the younger man at the host stand when you walked in the door. He had a huge grin plastered across his face and although you were an only child, you could still tell when someone was itching to tease their sibling. Tommy's eyes flickered back and forth between you and Joel, silently communicating with his brother as you introduced yourself. You managed to catch Joel shooting Tommy a warning glare before nervously resting his hand on your lower back and guiding you through the restaurant to an empty booth in the back.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look?" Joel asked, his dark eyes sparkling even under the dim mood lighting. You giggled and shyly looked down at your lap.

"A couple times."

Joel smiled warmly and leaned forward, his eyes trailing over the soft curves of your jaw and the way your plush lips stretched when he made you smile.

Before the food arrived, you learned a little more about him. He worked in construction, doing mostly residential but some commercial property work. He was trying to go into business for himself, which he told you was difficult but he already had years of experience and contacts in the area. He preferred to do most jobs himself or with as little help as possible because he only trusted his own work, but sometimes he did hire Tommy for a job to help his brother earn extra money.

"And in return, he lets me eat here for free," Joel finished, wiping the small smudge of red sauce from the corner of his mouth.

"That sounds like a win-win," you joked, and Joel chuckled.

"Tell me 'bout yourself. You said you been workin' at the store for four years?"

"Yeah," you nodded, pushing your empty plate to the side. "It's just meant to be temporary. I'm going to community college three days a week. Trying to get my degree so I can get a job with normal hours."

Joel hummed and leaned back in the booth. "What'dya wanna do?"

You shrugged. "I'm not sure, really. Hoping I figure that out as I go. I just know being a cashier for the rest of my life isn't for me, you know?"

"Yeah, sure," he agreed. "I could ask 'round if you want. Maybe some place is hirin' a receptionist or somethin'?"

"Oh, it's okay," you waved him off with a smile. "I appreciate it, though."

Afterwards, he took you for ice cream. You sat together outside the ice cream stand on a bench. The temperature outside was perfect and the place was mobbed. Kids ran around playing tag while other families gathered around picnic tables, laughing and telling each other about their days while you tried not to stare at Joel licking his ice cream and fantasizing about what that would look like between your legs.

"I wouldn't've pegged you for a strawberry girl," he said, nodding towards your rapidly melting ice cream.

"It reminds me of when I was a kid. My grandma liked to take me out for ice cream when she babysat me and strawberry was her favorite."

He smiled, listening to you talk about your family, getting a brief glimpse into your life, leaving him wanting more.

You thought everything was going so well. The date went perfectly. There wasn't as much awkwardness as you originally thought there would be and Joel was very easy to talk to. So when he dropped you off at your door and you invited him inside, you were surprised and somewhat hurt when he declined after a quick glance at his watch. He only kissed your cheek before telling you have a good night and backing out of your driveway, leaving you confused and a little self-conscious.

"He's probably just a gentleman," Courtney assured you the following day, "wants to take things slow and all that."

And you agreed. Once you had time to process everything, that seemed like exactly what it was, and you began to feel better.

But then Joel took you on a second date, and then a third, and he still hadn't tried to kiss you or make a move whatsoever.

"Maybe he's just rusty," Courtney offered after the fourth date and still finding yourself being shot down. "He wouldn't keep going out with you if he didn't like you."

Once again, Courtney made sense and you agreed he just liked to take things slower than you were used to.

But on your fifth date, where he took you to a baseball game, you misjudged the size of the beers they sold and you found yourself tipsier than you expected. Joel seemed really into the game but turned his focus on you whenever you searched for it, which, as the night wore on and the alcohol buzzed in your veins, became more and more frequent. You would ask him questions about how the game was played, even though your father watched baseball your whole life, just so you could listen to him talk. You looped your arm through his when the game was over and you both shuffled out of the stadium with a whole herd of drunk fans, back out into the parking lot. You tightly held onto his bicep, the feeling of his muscles under you fingertips more intoxicating than the beer, as he escorted you to his truck.

On the drive back to your place, you could feel your confidence building. Maybe he's just shy and doesn't know how to make a move. Maybe he just needs a clearer sign. Maybe he's waiting for you to make a move.

So, when he walked you to your door and he leaned in to kiss your cheek, you turned your face at the last second and locked your lips with his.

You could feel his surprise when your lips met. He froze and stopped breathing as he tried to figure out what to do, so you decided to make things easier for him and draped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and massaging your lips over his, urging him to reciprocate.

And finally, his hands flew up to your waist and tugged you against him. His mouth began to move and he crowded you up against your door. When your back made contact with the wood and his large palms squeezed gently at your hips, you moaned into his mouth. You had been dying for this for weeks and you would be damned it you were going to let it stop too soon.

Without even asking this time, you reached behind you and fumbled with your doorknob, twisting it blindly without breaking the kiss so you could both stumble inside. He kicked the door shut behind him, tongue licking at the seam of your lips while he brought one of his hands up to cup the back of your head. You granted him access, parting your lips and tangling your tongues together as he continued to walk you backwards. He opened his eyes and glanced around the dark living room quickly before pulling away and whispering one word: bedroom?

The way he said it made your knees weak and your heart flutter excitedly in your chest. You pulled him down for one more kiss before grabbing his hand and practically dragging him down the hall. About halfway to your room, his lips latched onto the crook of your neck and you slowed down, closing your eyes and twisting around in his arms so you could kiss him again. He pinned you against the wall with a groan, his thumb and forefinger clutching your jaw, prying it open so he could devour you. You hooked one leg over his hips and he let go of your jaw so he could grab the backs of your thighs and haul you off the ground.

You tugged at his hair impatiently, then gasped when he ground himself against your core, your body jolting in his arms and knocking a canvas print off the wall.

"Shit," he muttered, barely sparing the picture a glance before peeling you off the wall and carrying you towards your bedroom with your ankles hooked together at his lower back. You giggled against his mouth then squealed when he tossed you onto your bed. His hands glided underneath your dress and up your legs, slipping his fingers around the the waistband of your panties and tugging them down, pausing once he got to your knees. He blinked a few times like he was snapping out of a stupor and glanced up at you.

"Is this okay?"

"God, yes," you said, reaching behind you to tug at your zipper. You tried to shrug off your dress but his lips found yours and you quickly got distracted. You nibbled at his bottom lip while simultaneously tugging at the hem of his shirt, pushing it up over his soft stomach and stopping at his broad shoulders. He broke away just long enough to lean back and toss the shirt over his head and he was back on top of you before you could even drink him in.

You dragged your mouth over his chin, biting and nipping as you went. He groaned as you left open mouthed kisses across his jaw, his prickly beard tickling your tongue. "My dress," you whispered against his cheek before mouthing at the skin there, "take it off."

His palms slid over your shoulders, pushing the straps of your dress down while you wiggled a bit, helping move the fabric down your body. You arched your back so he could pull your dress all the way off, his breath getting caught in this throat when your nipples brushed against his bare chest.

He couldn't resist. When your dress was discarded on the floor, he sat back between your legs to admire your naked body, completely transfixed. Too much time had passed without him saying anything and you grew self-conscious, so you slowly began to cross your arms over your chest, but he stopped you.

"No," he rasped with a shake of his head. "You're so beautiful, just wanna look at you another minute."

Your cheeks flared with heat but you dropped your hands and gazed up at him, watching his eyes flicker excitedly over your body, memorizing every curve and freckle he could find. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a twitch in his pants and you glanced down at the outline of his cock through his jeans. You bit your lip and he followed your gaze, palming his erection briefly before undoing his pants.

"Oh," you whispered to yourself when you saw his cock spring free. He wrapped his hand around his thick shaft and glanced up at you as he crawled back up the mattress on his knees. "You're big," you added, unable to look away. He blushed but didn't reply. Instead, he leaned forward and kissed you, this time slower. You shuddered in anticipation when you felt the tip of his leaking cock brush against your pussy and he froze.

"Shit, wait," he grumbled, sitting back on his heels before reaching for his wallet, which was still stuffed inside his jeans. You figured out the problem and leaned over to your nightstand, fishing around in the drawer until you found a condom and held it out for him. He looked relieved when he saw the little foil square and tossed his wallet back onto the ground before ripping open the condom and rolling it on.

"Sorry. It's... been a while. Wasn't exactly prepared," he explained, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. The endearing confession just made you want him even more.

"It's okay, come here," you murmured, reaching your arms out for him. He grinned and fell down onto his elbows, kissing you slow and deep. When you felt him rest his tip at your entrance, you tensed up.

"Relax," he whispered in your ear. You slid your eyes shut and snaked your arms around his shoulders, gasping sharply when he pressed forward. When he sunk his teeth into your shoulder, your eyes rolled to the back of your head, the pain mixing with the pleasure in a way that made you dizzy.

"Oh, fuck, Joel," you whimpered when he bottomed out, your body stretching around his girth, the sting setting your nerves on fire.

He groaned against your neck and began to rock his hips steadily, making sure to not go too fast. He could tell you were still getting adjusted but it had just been so fucking long and he liked you so much, it was difficult to hold back. He could feel the sweat collecting between his shoulder blades as he focused all his energy on going slow, and when he felt your thighs relax around his waist and your back arch underneath him, he sighed with relief.

"More," you moaned, pressing your body against his, trying to get as close as possible. He growled and dipped his mouth down to capture one of your nipples, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud, releasing it with a wet pop and reveling in the sweet noises you made for him.

He wanted to tell you everything. He wanted to tell you how much he thought about you, how long he wanted to ask you out, how he wanted to know everything about you, how nervous you made him with just a simple glance. But he didn't say any of that. It had been so long since he had gone on a date that he wasn't even sure what women liked anymore. So he remained silent, focusing on not coming too soon while paying close attention to your cues, memorizing what you liked based on the breathy whines in his ear and the way your fingers clutched frantically at his hair. You, however, took his silence to mean he wasn't enjoying himself and you really, really didn't want that, so you pushed gently on his shoulder, drawing his attention.

"Let's switch," you murmured, and he gave you a quizzical look. "Why don't you lay back and let me do some of the work?" you explained, nipping playfully at his jaw.

When his head settled into your pillows, watching with heavy lidded eyes as you straddled him before catching his gaze and slowly sinking down, taking every inch of his cock with a low moan, he thought for sure it would be the death of him. You looked so beautiful all spread out and full of him that he had to squeeze his eyes shut so he wouldn't come just looking at you.

Then you started riding him and his eyes flew open, his chest heaving as he watched your tits bounce and your head tip back in ecstasy and he knew he was done for.

"Wait," he rasped, grabbing your waist and stilling your hips. You stopped, swollen lips parted as you panted for air and looked down at him.

"What's wrong?"

"N-nothin'," he stammered, taking a few deep breaths in before chuckling. "I'm just... I need a minute, is all."

You could see the red beginning to stain his cheeks and the look of embarrassment flicker across his face, melting your heart. Leaning down, you cupped his jaw and kissed him tenderly.

"Is that why you've been so quiet?" you asked softly, leaning back so you could look into his eyes but still holding his cheek in the palm of your hand. He nodded, his fingers gently wrapping around your wrist.

"I'm sorry. I haven't been with anyone in years and I've been tryin' to take things slow with you but I think all the buildup just made it worse." You grinned and took his other hand.

"Don't be sorry. I think it's hot," you whispered, pulling his free hand down between your bodies. He splayed his hand out across your lower abdomen and you took his thumb between your fingers, pulling it down so it made direct contact with your clit. You sucked in a sharp breath when you felt the pressure and a slow smile spread across his face when he realized what you were doing.

"Yeah? Why's it hot?" he asked, drawing slow circles over your clit and watching your jaw fall open and your eyes flutter shut. Both your hands dropped to his chest, holding yourself up.

"Because," you began, then bit your lip and moaned when he picked up the pace. "Because it's l-like you c-can't control yourself. Like y-you need me so badly, you can't hold back." You knew it sounded pathetic but you didn't care. His touch was intoxicating and you needed more.

"I can't," he admitted, his eyes glued to your face, taking pride in how good he made you feel. "I can't control myself. Wanted you for so long. Been thinkin' about this for months."

You gasped and your eyes snapped open, locking onto his. "Me, too. I never thought, shit, never thought you noticed me."

"Are you kiddin' me? I noticed you the first day." Now that the truth was out there, the words wouldn't stop coming. "You were wearin' a yellow shirt and I saw these perfect fuckin' tits when you bent over. Went home that night and-"

He stopped himself, wondering if he was going too far, but you dug your fingers into his chest and urged him to continue, desperately gasping for air as his thumb applied more pressure.

"Say it," you whispered. His cock pulsed angrily inside you, begging for release.

"Went home and fucked my fist thinkin' 'bout you."

You groaned loudly and leaned back, grabbing your breasts and playing with your nipples. "Fuck, I'm close, Joel."

"Yeah? Can you ride me, baby? Wanna come with you," he begged, his voice strained. Immediately, you resumed bouncing on his cock, letting go of your tits so you could brace yourself on his chest once again.

He watched in awe as you gasped and squeezed your eyes shut, stilling for just a moment, pulsing around his length as you came, his name and curses tumbling from your lips.

He couldn't hold back any longer.

He grabbed your hips with both hands and slammed up into you, grunting louder and louder each time. And it didn't take long. You had barely recovered from your own orgasm before he groaned, his eyes trained on where you were connected, thrusting as deep as he could go while his cock throbbed inside you.

"Fuck," he whispered, his head falling back limply onto your pillow. You slumped forward and buried your face against his neck, each of you trying to regulate your breathing.

"That was..." you began, trailing off when you realized your brain was still a pile of mush.

"Better than I ever imagined," Joel finished for you, wrapping his arms around your ribs.

Regrettably, he eventually pulled out, making you both wince. You rolled over onto your back and watched as he made his way to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. If you had any energy left, you might have shot off a quick text to Courtney, but you were barely coherent by the time he slipped back into your bed.

You didn't even need to ask if he was staying the night. He pulled you into his arms, his chest pressed up against your back when you fell asleep, completely at ease.

It could have been the beer or the sex, but you didn't hear his phone go off in the middle of the night. You didn't feel him slip his arm out from under you so he could answer the call in your living room, and you definitely didn't hear him quickly dress and leave.

It was finally Friday and you were moments away from calling off from work. The thought of facing him again made your stomach roll and your head swim.

You hadn't heard from Joel since he left in the middle of the night after you slept together, days ago. You foolishly texted and called him multiple times, but he never answered. Eventually, you got the message.

Countless hours were spent crying, then more were spent stalking around your place angrily, and a mixture of the two happened at work when either Courtney or Andy asked you about hot flower guy.

They eventually learned not to ask.

As badly as you wanted to call off, you dragged yourself into work. Andy offered to take over the registers so you could hide in the aisles stocking shelves during the hour Joel typically showed up, and you shamefully took him up on it. But when it was close to closing time and you made your way back to the front, Andy shrugged his shoulders.

"He never came."

You had a moment where you worried that something happened to him and you considered texting him just one more time, but when you got into your car that night and opened your text chain to a long list of unanswered texts, you changed your mind.

However, the next morning you awoke to a handful of texts from Joel. At first, your heart raced in your chest, but then your anger crept up and you had half a mind to just delete them. After you had some coffee and a chance to think clearly, your curiosity won and you opened the texts.

I'm so sorry

Something came up

Can you call me back?

Please let me explain

Your fingers hovered over your screen as you debated on what to say. Then you decided to leave the messages unanswered. At least for a little while. If he left you hanging for almost a week, he could wait a few hours, right?

What you didn't expect, however, was for him to show up at the store on a Saturday. He only ever came on Friday evenings. You were cashing out a customer, zoning out a bit, grateful for the distraction. When you reached for the receipt, your eyes locked with his and your pulse began to race. He was holding a bouquet of white roses and looking at you with a guilty expression. Your fingers froze around the paper momentarily until the little old lady in front of him cleared her throat and you blinked, snapping out of it and handing her the receipt with an apologetic smile.

"Hey," he said, but you kept your gaze trained down at the scanner.

"Hi."

Your hands shook as you scanned his flowers, doing your best to get the interaction over with as quickly as possible. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Andy at customer service notice Joel in line, watching from a distance in case you needed rescuing.

"You didn't respond to my texts," he said quietly. You shrugged.

"I've been busy," was all you said, tapping the button on the register for credit.

After he paid, you handed him his receipt and forced yourself to look at him. You could see in his eyes he looked exhausted and run down and despite how upset you were, you felt bad. But you felt even worse after he pocketed the receipt and handed you the flowers.

"They're for you."

"Oh," you said, surprised, as you looked down at the roses. "T-thank you."

Joel looked over his shoulder when a young couple began to unload their groceries on the belt. You panicked, not sure what to do or say, and then you felt a tap on your shoulder.

"Why don't you take your break?" Andy offered, "I'll cover."

You gave him a shaky smile, both of you knowing full well you already had your break. "Yeah, okay." Glancing over at Joel, you tilted your head towards the front door and he nodded.

"I'm so sorry I left without sayin' anythin'," he began when you sat down together on a bench outside the store. "There was an emergency and I had to go."

"You could have texted me or left a note," you said sadly, looking down at the flowers clutched in your hands.

"I know, and I was gonna, but my damn phone died and I was in the hospital for days. I was outta town, couldn't leave, I even wore the same clothes the whole time," he rubbed his face and sighed. "And once we got back home, I wanted to explain in person what happened."

"We?" you questioned. He dropped his chin to his chest and nodded solemnly.

"I have a daughter," he confessed, and your jaw dropped in surprise.

"W-what?" you whispered softly, "why didn't you tell me, Joel?"

His eyebrows pinched together, still avoiding your gaze.

"I don't know. In the past, women haven't exactly been thrilled findin' out I come with baggage and I guess I was bein' selfish." He finally looked up and you could see the pain behind his eyes. "I was tryin' to find the right way to tell you but I was so scared of losin' you."

You shook your head in disbelief. "It doesn't bother me at all that you have a daughter, Joel," you told him, "it bothers me that you lied."

He inched forward on the bench and put his hand on your knee. "I know. I'm so sorry. It was stupid. If you gimme another chance, I promise I'll never lie to you again."

Your chest tightened and you had to look away. He was so sincere, you could feel your resolve crumbling. After a moment, you dragged your eyes back up to him and you could swear he looked like he was on the verge of tears.

"Is she okay?"

He blinked rapidly for a moment, surprised by your question, then nodded.

"Yeah. She's okay now. She had appendicitis. She was with her mom last week. She lives an hour outside Austin and I just went right there from your place. Scared the shit outta me," he finished with a dry chuckle. Then something clicked.

"Your daughter..."

"Sarah."

"Sarah," you repeated. "The flowers you bought every week. Were they for her?"

He smiled shyly and nodded. "Yeah. She gets nervous goin' to her mom's still. The situation is a little rocky so I always get her flowers. Whether she's goin' there or comin' back. They make her smile," he said with a little shrug, and your heart melted.

"That's... that's really sweet," you said, looking down once again at the roses he bought you. He watched you closely for a moment then sat back on the bench, scratching his chin and trying to read your mind. Everything was out in the open now. He should have listened to Tommy and just told you the truth from the first date, but he couldn't remember the last time he ever felt so strongly about someone else before.

Just when he was about to leave, wanting to give you your space to think things over, you spoke again.

"So when are you free next?"

Joel exhaled in relief, then laughed. "Tomorrow?"

You bit your lip and nodded, then leaned forward and cupped his jaw, giving him a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth.

"It's a date," you whispered before standing up. He watched you from the bench as you walked towards the front doors. At the last moment you turned around, the white roses clutched against your chest, and called out, "have a good night."

He grinned.

"Have a good night."