#so they will be fixed just most likely whenever the next chapter comes out

[kyistell]

I uh..I did a thing...tee-hee?

Ignore that it has been several days since I first posted it and I'm only JUST doing this, that's not important!!!

[arcanefox207]

The Wolf You Feed (Part 5)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Word Count: 7.3k

Part 5 / ? (Ongoing) A O 3 | M A S T E R L I S T

Summary: Set in a fictional New England town, you fall for your handsome, intense and outdoorsy neighbor while renting out your parent's vacant summer home during a brutal winter.

Chapter Warnings: ANGST. Smut. POV-Switching. Rated Explicit. 18+ MDNI. See series masterlist for general warnings.

A/N: Hang in there friends. I will ease your pain soon 🧡

The next day you were, for the most part, unconsolable. Marlene let you lay around in her guest bed while you faded in between sleep and numbness. 

The pain was unfamiliar. Hurt because it was so unexpected. Amplified because you were falling so hard for him and thought he felt the same way. Hurt by the immense weight of betrayal and deception that he dumped on you last night. Hurt by the thought that he didn’t want you to know. Hurt because despite the pain you still felt a longing and prayed to just wake from the nightmare like it was all just a bad dream.

The early afternoon sun gave its best attempt to bring some life to you, but you simply rolled away from the window and wrapped yourself up in your warm cocoon. Your phone screen lit up on the nightstand for the umpteenth time and you ignored it.

The apathy you were feeling was weighing you down, paralyzing you from moving from your safe haven. It felt like time wasn’t moving either, and you were just trapped in this moment and helpless to do anything about it.

The 360 your emotions took in the span of 24 hours was unprecedented. It took everything out of you and you can’t stop ruminating on what was and what could have been. Where do you go from here? 

Last night, you don’t remember much of what happened when you left Coppers. You were inconsolable and Marlene felt too responsible for you to let you go home by yourself in your condition. She insisted you get in her car and she brought you to her apartment which was not too far away. 

She didn’t ask you any questions, and you could only assume what she could possibly be thinking about you now. You felt embarrassed and sick to your stomach whenever flashes from the night before popped into your mind. 

How could you have been so stupid?   

A tiny knock on the door caught your attention and Marlene meekly poked her head in. She wandered over to the bed and sat at the edge.

“Come on. I made us lunch and you are going to eat.” She patted your bundled up shoulder and got into your face to glare at you. This request was not optional at this point. You owed her big. She placed a bottle of water on the nightstand and you saw her eye your phone lighting up.

“Fine. Give me a minute?” You didn’t sound very convincing. “I promise.”

Marlene left you some clothes to borrow while you were there. An oversized long sleeve shirt and some sweatpants. Comfortable.

Marlene had lunch fixed for you both and slid over a hot cup of coffee as you approached the kitchen table. 

She was being far too kind to you. On the way home you remember little beyond the haze of being drunk and your breakdown. You remember sobbing and telling her you didn’t want to be alone. She ended up bringing you back to her place in town and babysat you through the night.

You were grateful to have made a friend in her and her kindness was the light guiding you through the turmoil. 

You manage a few bites from your sandwich out of consideration but don’t touch your coffee. The awkward silence is broken after a few moments, you knew the conversation was coming.

“So…” She pauses and then just comes out with it. “You and Joel, huh?” She attempts to drop the topic casually and friendly.

“Not anymore.” You feel your eyes well up again. Tears from anger, sadness and heartbreak. A trifecta of emotions that you don’t recall ever feeling before. Everything about Joel was intense and had been from the moment you met him. 

You realize that since meeting him it had all been mostly bottled up inside you. Except for some vague chatter at work, your life with Joel was mostly a secret. Something you kept private because you were shy about being judged for falling for a man so much older than you.  

You tell her everything. 

“Babe, he isn’t worth the tears.” she said so confidently, like she had so much knowledge about him that you didn’t know. 

“I had no idea about Tess.” The words spill out. “I just assumed it was only me. I would have never… How stupid-”

“Joel is an asshole” she cuts you off. Her tone is getting more heated as she gets frustrated that you are blaming yourself for anything in all of this. “What he did was wrong.” Marlene tried her best to keep her judgements to herself, but she always had been very outspoken. You knew she would be an open book if you would just ask. She seemed to harbor some resentment that was starting to slip out.

“How long have they.. You know. Been together?” you choke on the words.

“As long as I’ve known them.” she catches the way you react and takes a step back to explain. “They used to be close. Really close. Over the years they have grown apart. I think nowadays they just fuck around with each other when they are feeling lonely.” 

Your heart is in your throat and you want to throw up. You go to speak but can’t find the words, only more tears. 

“Sorry. I mean, you should know this.”

She's right, you should know this, and Joel should be the one telling you. You think back to how he was so quick to push you away at the bar and wanted to talk later. You knew something was up and he wasn’t ready for you to find out. Even if you never really defined anything between you both, he led you on. He used you. 

“Tess isn’t a saint either.” She interrupts you as if she can hear your thoughts. “This has been a long time coming. They are both toxic.” 

You wanted to know what she meant by that, but your mind couldn’t get past his wrongdoings. From where you sat last night, it looked like Tess was caught off guard by him too. 

You felt sick to your stomach the moment you realized you were the other woman. Tess didn’t deserve that.  

The tears were flowing again. You drag the back of your hand across your face to quickly wipe them away. 

“You deserve better.” She reassures you.

Do you, though? You wonder. 

You never had the best luck with men. The way Joel made you feel was not something you would be able to replace or move on from easily. He awoke something inside you that you needed to feed. He had a darkness that you were drawn to. A sexual energy that you never sought out before. It was so perfectly hidden behind some neighborly deeds and a tired man’s body.       

“Despite it all, and I know how stupid this sounds. How stupid this is. I still… can’t stop thinking about him.” You confess out loud. 

You were not a stupid person by any stretch, but you were feeling blinded by how he had been making you feel up until last night. Even after you confronted him, before you really learnt what was going on, you still felt like he was doing this for you. He wasn’t acting like the same person, but you could feel the Joel you knew was still there inside him. Like the face he was putting on was for everyone else, but your Joel was waiting in the wings.

When he had you alone by the bathrooms you could feel how much he wanted you. See how much hurt there was in his eyes when you were crying. He told you it wasn’t about you and you really wanted to believe that was true.

When he held your face in his hand and wiped your tears you knew that whatever was going on, his feelings for you were not something to question. He wanted you on a primal level and you wanted him to take what he needed from you. 

You weren’t in a formal relationship with him. You never had that talk with him. You never asked if there was anyone else. These thoughts were creeping in and making you feel stupid and partially responsible. Your conscience was desperately looking for any excuse to help Joel’s case. 

Marlene rolls her eyes. “Joel is nothing but bad news. Look at what he already did to you. Forget him.” 

Easier said than done, you think to yourself. The truth is that up until his performance he had been the first guy in your life that made you feel truly desired. It couldn’t have felt so real if it wasn’t true.

He needed you, but you also needed him.   

“Marlene…” You pause, trepidation in your tone. “I was falling for him. I think I was in l-”

“Stop.” She cuts you off. “You liked his… handsome charm, don’t confuse it for something more.” An annoyance peaks in her voice. 

You had fallen for people before and had relationships based purely on lust and attraction, but this was not it. It was something so unique that you couldn’t even put into words or feelings. A high that he gave you that you had to chase because you needed that next fix so badly. 

“And…” She pauses before cautiously saying more. “He is old enough to be your dad. Come on, this wasn’t going anywhere!” She was trying to make you see the obvious things without sounding too critical. 

You actually liked that he was older. It was so attractive if not a little bit taboo which just made it that much more exciting. He was worn on the edges but he was so confident and capable with everything he did. Not to mention no one had pleasured you like Joel Miller. You were absolutely smitten by everything he gave to you. He made you insatiable for him in every way. 

You brushed off her comments about his age. It was something you loved about him. Something that turned you on that you didn’t feel like defending.

Still, by all counts she was right. You knew the right thing to do would be to move on with your life, without Joel. 

“I’m sure whatever you had was fun, but that is all it was ever going to be.” Her matter of fact way of stating things helped to make the reality hit a little less hard. 

Maybe the reason it felt so good with Joel is because you wanted it to be something more than it was. The pit in your stomach reminds you of its presence and how this whole ordeal makes you feel sick.

There is a long silence between the two of you, and she no doubt can tell how heavy the words are hitting you. She finishes her coffee and clears the table, taking away your hardly touched plate. 

You sit with your thoughts for a moment before joining her at the kitchen sink. You hand her your mostly full coffee mug to pour in the basin.

The elephant in the room is getting too big to ignore.

It didn’t matter how you felt or what you wanted when there was someone else involved.

“What am I going to do now?” You ask her with teary eyes and a meek voice.

“I know Tess pretty well, and she can be scornful. I don’t think she knows about you and Joel, and you should keep it that way.” 

You feel yourself disassociated and want to just disappear. Go back to your Boston life and pretend you never met Joel Miller. Find a new job.  A new place to live and start fresh, again. 

“I like you, and I think you got put in a real shitty situation.” That was an understatement. “I’m not going to say anything to her, ok?” 

You nod, and believe her words.

“You are done with Joel, right?” She looks at you for confirmation. “Right?”

“Yeah. Of course.” You look away from her as you answer and the tears flow again. You weren’t sure if you were lying to her or lying to yourself, but you knew it wasn’t truthful. Whatever path you carved out next would be wrong if it wasn’t leading away from Joel.  

“Then cry as much as you need to now and put this behind you.”

She brings you in for a comforting hug and you sob into her shoulder.   

The worst part of it all is that you still have feelings for him.

—

JOEL POV - The Night Before

As he walked towards the stage to play, he was a wreck inside. Looking calm and composed was just a facade. He was nervous enough to be playing tonight with his carefully thought out song, but now knowing you may very well still be around was tipping him over the edge. There was no turning back at this point and he had to stay the course. He had to get this off his chest and had to wash his hands of Tess. Whatever comes next he would have to take it as it comes. 

The thought of hurting you in any way made him sick. 

Taking his seat he was grateful for the bright lights on him, making the audience look like anonymous shadows. At least in his mind he could pretend it was a room of nobodies. He never was one to have stage fright. He was a talented enough musician and most of the audience was drunk. He didn’t care what they thought anyways.  

He drags his hand along the neck of the guitar, feeling the strings under his calloused fingertips. Taking in a deep breath he adjusts the guitar in his lap. The light reflects off his watch and the shiny, polished wood of his instrument. The stage feels lonely as the room silences with all eyes on him.    

He strums his guitar and flexes his hand to loosen up. There is no turning back now and this is something he has to do. 

“This one’s…. for Tess.” his voice shakes as the words leave his mouth. 

This moment the only thing that mattered was that she heard this. He never was one with words or talking about his feelings, but he always had been able to lean on music when it mattered. It was the only time he truly let himself be vulnerable.  

As he started playing, he blocked out everything around him. His mind was just filled with the memories of Tess. What he loved. What he wanted. What he never got and never will. What he would always mourn but no longer desire. His time with her was over for him. He could feel his heart aching as he sang, but also getting lighter, not realizing how heavy this all was weighing on him for such a long time until he was letting it go.

As the song progressed it felt cathartic. Letting some of his anger slip into his tone and fade out into the ether, taking along his frustrations. Confronting all the feelings he had been holding in for so long. The sadness he felt was mourning, and he knew it would only get better now that he was moving on. He had already been mourning her loss for a long time without truly acknowledging it. Until now.       

Living in the memory

   Of a love that never was

He was feeling bolder and confident that his decision to be done with Tess was the right one. It didn’t erase their history or make her impact on his life any less significant. What they had was special and always would be. It didn’t have to overstay like it was in order to preserve that history. It was time to move on and stop feeding the resentment that was overtaking everything left that was good.

He would always love her for their history and she had to know so that she could move on too before the damage between them was too great. He knew she would understand and accept it; in time. 

Then you crept back into his mind. Finally he was giving himself permission to allow it to, properly. 

You filled in all that empty space that was vacant for just mere moments. Another realization that he wasn’t giving everything to you and how much he wanted to. He had been indulging in your companionship with trepidation. Reluctant to open himself up and fearful that it would be another road to nowhere. 

Afraid you might not want him and his darkness that came along once you really knew him. 

His eyes were finally adjusted to the lights just enough to make out the details in the shadows in front of him. 

He couldn’t help himself to look up and scan the audience, searching for you passively. Deep down, he knew you were still out there. He could sense that unexplainable feeling when someone is watching you intently. It made his heart race as he struggled to fight the distraction and finish his song. 

'Cause I've done everything I know

To try and make you mine

And I think I'm gonna love you

As if by instinct, he zeroed in on you standing towards the back of the room with tears in your eyes. An invisible rope tethering you together against the odds in the sea of shadows. 

When he caught your eyes he had to look away in shame. Disgusted with himself that you were collateral damage in his situationship. He choked on his final words, and they came out low and shaky.  

For a long, long time.

He strummed the last chords of his song and fought back the feeling in his throat that was bubbling up. He felt like he couldn’t breathe and the weight of his actions was crushing him. The silence in the room filled him with dread and it felt like time was standing still, like he was in front of everyone naked with his emotions raw and exposed before them. His chest was tight, bursting with an anxious heart beating rapidly with heavy thuds.  

A conflicting wave of emotions tears through him and it takes everything not to lose his composure. He takes the deepest breath, closes his eyes and it isn’t Tess that comes to mind. 

It’s you. 

With his final strum of the guitar it felt like he was releasing himself from Tess. Free after so long and fighting so hard for their relationship. Free to bring his full attention to where his heart was calling him.

Finally the room erupts in applause and he feels the tiniest pang of relief wash over him and snaps him back to reality. He sneaks off the stage and makes his way towards the back. He needed to hold you and tell you how sorry he was and at this point he didn’t care who saw him.

Familiar faces and acquaintances slapped him on the back and boasted to him about how great he did and the gauntlet of drunken patrons slows him down significantly. When he manages to break away and gets eyes on where you were standing you are nowhere to be found. 

A hand grabs his sleeve and he turns but his heart sinks when it’s Tess.

“Joel..” she whines through a shaky voice and pulls him to look at her.

He didn’t want to be cruel to her or disregard whatever feelings she was going through but he also didn’t feel obligated to her anymore. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel like he was on her leash. He was done putting her first.  

“Tess, not now.” His voice was low and gentle. He really did feel for her out of habit, but he also knew he couldn’t let her try to reconcile. Not yet, anyways. He was open and hopeful to remain friends with her, but she needed to get over him first. He knew her reaction would be anger until she had time to cool off. 

“Really? After that you are going to ice me out? What the hell, Joel?” Her anger was increasing with every sound leaving her lips. The last thing he wanted was a blow up with her and he wasn’t going to let her control this narrative any longer. 

“Stop it.” He unintentionally uses his size to intimidate her as he steps closer. Silencing her as the remaining empathy leaves his eyes. He was never confrontational with Tess, and this was something new that she did not expect or know how to react to.   

A few nosy people nearby get quiet as they try to watch the drama unfold in front of them and pretend to be minding their own business. Joel takes a step back from Tess and furrows his brow.  

“I told you. I’m moving on. We’re done now.” He says firmly and sharply points his finger towards her. The tears in her eyes almost make him soften, but he holds firm. “Done.” He reiterates through gritted teeth.

He hated being so cold, but he had to or else nothing would change.  

Tess bites her lip and for the first time has no words. She was so used to being the boss and calling the shots and for the most part Joel let her. Not this time. She wipes the wetness that starts to fall from her eyes and walks off, angry and hurt.

“What are you looking at?” He snaps at the prying eyes watching him be a total asshole and then proceeds to walk towards the exit to continue his search. He was quickly running out of fucks to give by this point in the evening.

The bar was starting to clear out a little now that the live entertainment was done for the night. He doesn’t see you and starts to worry you left without allowing him a chance to explain himself. 

Truthfully, he didn’t know what he was going to say, but he knew he needed to see you. To apologize at the minimum and beg you to hear him out. There was so much you didn’t know that he needed to tell you.

He collects his guitar, dons his jacket and makes his way outside. There is a gentle snow falling and a coating on the cars and walkway. Footprints heavily littering the path into the parking lot and fanning out. It would be a fool's errand to pick out your prints or your car under the blanket of winter. 

He makes his way to his truck, and carelessly brushes off his windshield with his sleeve. 

He pulls out his phone and calls you, but it goes unanswered and to your mailbox. He sends you a text.

Joel: Im so sorry baby

Joel: Please can we talk? 

He leans on his truck, ignoring the cold and tries to call you again. And again. The relentless ringing is only silenced by the robotic voice of the generic voice mail operator.

After the 3rd call he left a message.

“Please answer the phone baby girl. I know I don’t deserve it, but I need to talk to you. Please.” His message was delivered with a low, calm tone, barely masking that he was afraid. 

Afraid he lost you.  

—

READER POV - Saturday Afternoon

Marlene dropped you off at the bar to pick up your car. No one was around this time of day and it felt surreal being back at the scene of the crime, so to speak. She gave you a hug and just nodded to you as you left. Urging you to believe you would be ok, and you had to move on. 

When you got home you didn’t even dare look to see if Joel was home. You went inside, took a shower and wrapped up in a blanket to watch TV on your couch.

Whatever was on you didn’t really pay attention. Your mind was just filled with Joel. You wanted to wake up from this bad dream. 

You had been vulnerable with him. You were ready to give yourself to him so quickly because you craved that intimacy only he could give. He worshipped your body and made you feel something you never felt before. 

Was that enough? Surely not to a self respecting person. It makes you feel sick to be so hesitant to do the obviously right thing.  

You so badly wanted him, and knew you couldn’t just let him treat you this way. You felt guilty about still wanting to give him a chance.

You finally gave in to looking at your phone. 

You had 34 unread messages from Joel. 9 missed calls and 3 voicemails. You fought the urge to see what he had to say and instead gave notice to your other missed calls. Your mother. She had tried to call you 3 times. You had barely talked to her this past week and didn’t really want to but you also knew she would worry if you continued to ignore her. You were afraid she might also reach out to her precious neighbor too if you gave her any reason to panic. It didn’t take much with her. 

You called your mom, lied that you were sick with the flu and that you just wanted to sleep. She didn’t make you talk long thankfully and she didn’t say anything about her handyman neighbor.

The night was getting late and you mustered up enough energy to move into your bedroom. 

Seeing Joel’s flannel shirt laying at the foot of your bed hit you hard. You had been so happy and flirty just a few nights before and you wanted that back. It felt like it was taken from you unfairly.

You hugged the shirt to your chest and breathed in his masculine scent that still lingered. The scent that drove you wild with desire.  

How were you going to get over this man who made you such a mess?

You tossed the shirt into your dirty clothes pile and got into bed, lamenting how cold and empty it was and wishing you were wrapped up in Joel’s navy blue sheets and stealing his heat. Feeling his heartbeat against your cheek as he holds you close. The ghost of his touch on your skin makes you tear up again. 

Fuck you Joel Miller. You mumble out loud to yourself. It wasn’t fair.   

You lay there for what felt like hours, your mind firing on all cylinders with no hope of slowing down. 

Curiosity won in the end, and you opened up the text thread with Joel. You scanned it quickly and saw a recurring theme of him asking if you were ok, apologizing and worried that you were not home.  

Joel: Please just tell me you are safe

Joel: I’ll leave you alone just let me know

Joel: Where are you? 

Those were texts from the morning. After your car was back home and signs of life his messages were back to apologizing and what you can only imagine to be a descent of drunken texts from this evening.

Joel: I’m so sorry

Joel: We need to talk

Joel: Please n

Joel: I m fucknig srry

Joel: Just let m tel you and ill stpo

Joel: /

Joel: I ned to talk to you

You wanted to talk to him. You needed some clarity, but you also didn’t want to be tricked into forgiving him because of your body betraying your mind. There was a nagging you could not shake that his actions at the bar didn’t undo the way he made you feel. There had to be more to it or else it would be so easy to wash your hands of him and never turn back. 

You started typing a reply and deleting until finally settling on just leaving him on read. 

You listened to his first voicemail, and hearing the pain in his voice made your heart break more. He was worried about you and he sounded like he was doing his best to be composed, but you could see through it. That southern drawl makes you melt when you hear him call you baby girl.

You slammed your phone down and regretted giving in to his attempts. It only made it harder to be mad at him.  

As you drifted off to sleep with tears leaving wet stripes on your cheeks you decided that tomorrow you would go see Joel. You would go in person and get a true gauge of where things stand. You would also try to do the right thing.    

—

JOEL POV - Saturday Night

Midday and he was worried about you. Not only were you not answering him or reading his messages, but you also had not been home. Of course you were an adult and clearly could do whatever you wanted, but he felt entirely responsible for whatever you were up to. 

He paced to his bedroom window, looking out through the blinds to see the same snow covered drive. Untouched. He was getting restless.  

He flips through your messages and can’t help but look at the pics you sent him during your bedtime photoshoot.

He could feel himself harden and palmed himself through his denim to get some relief. It felt wrong, but he couldn’t control the way his body reacted to you. He unzips his jeans to let his cock breathe as he takes a seat in the living room. 

Scrolling through the photos you sent and seeing more and more of your body made him swell. The pressure in his groin became too much to handle with a casual touch. 

Fuck he mumbles under his breath. 

He spreads his legs wider and slides a hand inside his boxers to stroke himself, imagining it was you and your gentle hands wrapped around his shaft. 

The guilt of what he did weighed heavy on his mind but didn’t hinder him from getting aroused. He needed to have you again. Feel your tight pussy gripping him and listen to your sweet moans. 

It eats away at him. It was wrong to get off to you especially after what he had done to you. 

But it didn’t stop him.

Settling on the second picture you sent, he focuses on how deranged and needy you looked. Hungry for his cock. Your breasts were perfectly in view and still partially clad in his shirt. His scent was all over you in that moment. You were his.  

His labored strokes quicken as he fucks into his fist and he comes with a stifled groan. 

Sitting alone with his release dripping over his knuckles made him feel like a dirty old man. Getting off to a woman that didn’t want him anymore.   

He woke later that evening, awkwardly slumped against the arm of his chair. The house was completely dark except for some embers from his wood stove about to give it’s last breath. He was groggy and sore. His neck ached from the awkward position. 

After getting his wits about him, he opened his phone to see you still had not replied. He stumbled over to his window and to his relief your car was parked in the yard. 

At least you were home. You were safe. Clearly you did not want to talk to him yet. 

He wanders off to his kitchen to pour himself a stiff drink and downs it way too fast before taking a shower and drinking again and again. 

As the whiskey clouds his mind and fills him with nothing but remorse for what he did, he sloppily sends you some desperate texts before passing out for the night.

—

READER POV - Sunday

The Sunday afternoon energy was heavy. You had been avoiding Joel in every possible way since Friday night. The exception being your moment of weakness and reading his texts. Instead you buried yourself in a book trying to focus your mind on another world with characters struggling with simpler problems.

The time spent alone had given you some peace to think about what your next move was going to be, but you were still battling with what to do.

If you were not so smitten with him it would be so easy to just walk away. You never questioned his character before and now it’s all you can do. Weighing the damage he did with what you had come to know about him before was not an easy task. It also made you question your own character. What kind of a person would it make you be to continue on with this? Maybe you battled with failed relationships all your life because you never found the one to balance who you really are. Maybe you are just hopelessly lusting over Joel Miller and telling yourself anything that can make it feel ok. 

Your anger and hurt was stinging less and making you feel more numb than anything. Marlene’s words of advice were lingering in the front of your mind constantly. You felt guilty for entertaining the idea of talking to him and even more guilty for settling on actually doing it. 

Looking out your front window you see his truck parked in his driveway. No fresh tire tracks and covered in snow. You had not seen any signs of life since you returned home other than some smoke from his chimney and a light or two.

The text messages from him did still trickle in at a slower pace, but you continued to ignore them. Wiping the notification off your lock screen.

Marlene also texted you periodically to check in and you assured her you were doing just fine and would be ok. 

You made an impulsive decision to go over now before you changed your mind again, not sure what you were going to say or do, but you couldn’t ignore him forever. The more you thought about what your gameplan was the more you started to talk yourself out of it.  

You freshened up in the bathroom, applying some light makeup to mask the bags under your eyes and hide the fact that you have been crying for days. You knew deep down you also just wanted to look really good for him. You wanted to spite him and make him want you but not let him have you as some sort of punishment. At least that is what you told yourself.     

You bundled up in your boots and winter jacket. Wrapped a scarf around you and put on some mittens and a hat. Your hair falling loosely around your face. You looked cute but completely covered up. 

The sun was just starting to set, but there was still plenty of light left to venture outside.

You wandered over to your mailbox and picked up the scent of burning wood. A smoky, campfire smell. It smelled inviting. You heard a chopping sound coming from the direction of Joel’s house and guessed he was outside working. Typical Joel behavior to be outdoors. 

As you make your way to his house the campfire smell intensifies and you see some smoke coming from the side of his house. There is a footpath going from his driveway and you decide to follow it to the sound.

As you round the corner, the sight is enough to make you forgive all his wrongs.

Joel’s back was to you and his silhouette is bright and familiar. You could recognize his figure in a lineup with ease. Broad and commanding.  

The frame of his body was muscular but not bulky. Toned from his manual labor lifestyle. His broad shoulders and tapered waist were perfectly illuminated by the burning fire next to him.  

He was dressed in some dirty jeans that hugged him perfectly and heavy work boots. His torso clad in a rustic, plaid flannel not too different from the one you stole. The sleeves are pushed up and bunched on his forearms and his hands protected with leather gloves. 

You see his jacket discarded on a pile of chopped wood and a small brush pile burning next to him, keeping him unnecessarily warm. It looked like he had more than enough body heat radiating off him. Uncomfortably toasty.  

The area between his shoulder blades was damp and dark with sweat. The curls in his hair were an unruly mess, especially where they met the hot perspiration on his neck. 

Seeing Joel in lumberjack mode unlocked something inside you that you didn’t even know existed. He was so primal in his ability to handle whatever task was at hand. Just as he had been when intimate with you. He could take you away and live off the grid someplace in the wilderness and you wouldn’t bat an eye. He was more than capable of taking care of all your needs.  

You feel it deep inside you. That intense heat building that only Joel can make you feel. An arousal coiling up inside you and ready to burst out if given the chance.   

He turns to place a section of wood in front of him and makes a grunt sound as he lifts it into place. No doubt it was heavy and judging by his pile, and the sweat on his body, he had been at this for a while. His outstretched arm had his flannel tightly choking his bicep as he moved to adjust the log in front of him. It was obscene to see his body flex and demonstrate his strength. The desire to have his arms on you in this moment and feel the full force of his body against you.

He picks up the axe and throttles it down again with a grunt, wood splintering in front of him as the force from his axe splits the wood into two.

He is nearly panting from the exertion, moving the split wood over to the pile only to repeat it all over again. He pulls his shirt up to wipe his brow. The hard ridges of his muscles taunt you as they shine in the light of the fire. As he wipes his sweat and pauses for the briefest moment to rest against his axe you decide to make your presence known before he realizes you are watching him.

“Hey Joel” you announce softly.

He is startled by you and turns quickly, letting his shirt fall back over his stomach. His expression softens when he meets your eyes. He tosses the axe next to him and pulls off his gloves as he steps towards you. 

The heat of his body and his smoky scent hit you all at once as he stands just in front of you, unsure if he should touch you or not.  He hesitates but you can see the desire in his eyes to touch you. 

“Sweetheart, I’m–” he pauses, and rakes his hand through his hair. “I’m so glad to see you. Lord knows I don’t deserve it.” He gives a side smirk and his best attempt at looking innocent. It almost works.

He steps towards you but you reluctantly hold your hand up. He ignores it and pushes his chest into your palm. His innocence was replaced with cunning intentions. His damp and hot chest sending a wave of desire through you, making you even more wet. You were certain he could sense it too despite your attempts to act put together.  

Before you can protest he has his hands on your waist. His fingers wrapping around you and positioned to pull you in close. His needy energy is not something you have seen before. Not like this. Assertive but stepping over a line you put out. 

“Joel, stop.” You weakly protest and take a step back from him. His hands slide off your hip as you step away and you can see some panic in his eyes that he misread what this was. 

He could clearly see how mixed you were feeling. He was letting his raw desire take the lead and hoped it would help sway you to give in to him and soften your resolve. Whether it was wrong or right, he knew that sexual tension you both had was not going silently.

He also knew that he cared about you more than just as a hookup. Truthfully you had made him feel things he hadn’t felt in a long time. He was so scared to lose you before he even got to properly have you. His fear was making him act stupid and desperate and he didn’t know how to reign it back. Especially with you being just within your reach. He was tailspinning.      

“I’m sorry, baby.” He pauses. “I should have told you about her. It’s not what it looks like. I mean, it is complicated and–”

You swallow back your feelings and look him straight in the eyes. How much more cliche could he get?  

“It’s too late for that now,” you countered, realizing that confronting this now was not something you were ready for after all. 

Joel chewed his lip, wiping his hand on his chin as he fought back the urge to unleash some of his anger that he had been harboring. Anger he had towards himself that needed to escape. He was getting agitated.

He knew you were right, but he knew he couldn’t just let you go. He lets out a deep breath as he pinches between his brows, releasing a little tension as he exhales and composes his next words carefully.

“I want you to… need you to know I never did anything with her while I was with you.” His words come out desperate, pleading with you to understand. To forgive him even. 

You weren’t sure if you believed that. You couldn’t exactly trust him anymore now that the trust had been broken.     

“I swear it. There is a lot you don’t know about Tess and-”

Hearing her name on his lips is the last straw and it enrages you, reminding you that you are not here for second chances and apologies. You are here to tell him to leave you alone.

“I don’t think we should see each other anymore.” You declare coldly and emotionless. 

Joel stares, he looks like he wants to speak but he isn’t sure what to say. He isn’t sure he heard you right, or didn’t want to believe that he did. 

You go to turn but he grabs your sleeve and holds you to face him.

“Please, I need to… don’t go.” He stumbles over his words, grabbing you harder than he meant to, desperate to make you stay.  

“You hurt me.” The tears start to fall again as you speak your truth to him. You look him straight in the eyes so he can see your pain from what he did. There was no misreading your tears. 

“I know. Never meant for you to get hurt. I can explain-” He panics, realizing you are leaving him and his chance is fleeting.

You struggle to pull your arm away but he isn’t listening and just brings you closer with his strength. He was blind to your obvious demands to stop. Clouded by his panic.  

“I owe you an explanation. Let me-” His eyes penetrate into you, begging you to look at him. 

“It's too late.” You cut him off. “Lose my number.” Your words bite. 

You pull your arm away sharply and continue to walk away. You feel him staring at you and you swear he can hear your heart beating out of your chest. It took every ounce of restraint to hold firm with what you set out to do. You were not going to let him talk you into changing your mind.

With tears welling up in your eye you continue walking forward. You hear him begging you to stop and listen to him. 

“Sweetheart, please.” he calls out after you. Pleading with you but you put more distance between him and his words as they get quieter.

Under his breath, Joel whispers “I’m sorry.” When your pace quickens and you don’t look back you swear you can hear him speak those words again and again, but you keep walking. 

To be continued...

A O 3 | M A S T E R L I S T | N O T I F I C A T I O N S

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[savingcrxws]

EYES ON FIRE | maybe someday

[ prev chap ] [ next chap ]

synopsis. you and carmen just keep bumping into each other.

word count. 4.3k (gah damn)

warnings. language, hardly proofread again i'm sorry its an addiction

authors note. thank u guys so much for the support in these previous chapters! it’s really amazing to me that u guys enjoyed it so much! i would recommend listening to maybe someday by the cure for this chapter!

“Yeah, Sugar. The appointment is booked for Thursday, the reps will probably be coming in at like…three o’clock,” you mutter, flipping through the manila folder absolutely stuffed with documents and sticky notes. 

You pursue your lips at all you had to get done within this week alone–sign installation permit, permit to replace the hot water heater, permit to fix the ventilation systems, reapply for occupancy capacity signs because of the restaurants lack of other permits, and holy shit…

You completely forgot to schedule the follow-up appointment with the BACP consultant. 

You groan, slamming the thick folder into your forehead, the papers thwacking against your skull. Natalie sounds startled on the other end of the phone, no doubt hearing the sound on her end of the call. She questions if you’re okay, and you only respond with a gentle hum before tossing the folder back down on the office table. 

“Hey, Suge, do you think I can call you back later? I need to schedule a follow-up consultation with Raquel before another rep hops on my ass about the boiler replacement.” 

“Of course, hun, call me back whenever you can,” Sugar starts and you can hear some papers flicking in her side of the call as well.

You had managed to convince her to work from home more often, worried that all the stress from the demolition inside would affect her pregnancy and her overall wellbeing. After some back and forth, she had begrudgingly agreed to spend two days working on the project from the comfort of her own couch. 

And even though she complains still, you know she appreciates she has a little bit more time off of her feet. 

“Don’t work yourself too hard, okay, Bug?” 

You nod, even though you know she can’t see you. “Same for you, Bear.” Sugar hums once again before you both give your goodbyes and end the call. 

You expel all of the air out of your chest in a large puff as you slide down the office chair.

After signing onto Team Bear, your new home-away-from-home had been this tiny office in the back of the restaurant. For the most part, no one came in and disrupted your work, which allowed you to have your head shoved into piles of paperwork, be stuck on phone calls, and be forced to reread legal jargon for hours on end with little interruption. 

Well, as little interruption as there could be with the restaurant quite literally falling apart around you. 

Thankfully, everyone was very respectful of your work in helping the developing business. You were practically putting every ounce of knowledge that you learned from both college and the real-world experience (including connections within the industry) to help push the restaurant closer to the deadline. All the while still dealing with your other commitments to other businesses that you had prior to signing on to this project.

Staying at The Bear for eight hours a day had its benefits, though.

For example, there was always something entertaining going on in the background. Like last Tuesday, when Fak had decided to send a sledgehammer directly into the only remaining wall of the office–sending bits and pieces of drywall onto your clothes.

Another benefit of being stuck in that office chair is that you had an excuse to ignore everyone around you. And by everyone, you really mean Carmen.

After the awkward office run-in last week, the two of you hardly spoke to each other. Sure, there was the ‘hellos’ and ‘goodbyes’ that you threw to each other and the words you exchanged when you caught him up on the status of licensing, but you two had yet to have an actual conversation.

It was clear that the both of you were still walking on eggshells around each other—and everyone could see it. But you had an inkling feeling that Carmen had been wanting to say something, judging by the short glances you sometimes catch him throwing in your direction.

Kinda similar to the one that he’s giving you right now.

You feel the heat of his stare on your face before you see it. He’d been staring at you for a couple moments now, long enough for you to no longer consider it an inquisitive glance.

You peek up from the folder and make solid eye contact with Carmen through the hole in the wall. The man flushes almost immediately, the red color sinking past his collar. You purse your lips and give a small nod of acknowledgment and he stutters in his spot.

And then he’s turning away.

Like he wasn’t the one just staring at you a moment ago.

You roll your eyes and turn back to your original position in the seat. Picking the folder up again, you flick to the papers listing the requirements for the next fire suppression test.

“Men,” you mutter, before picking up your phone and making a phone call.

Three days later, the office is completely demolished and your work revolving around The Bear has been moved to a family-owned coffee shop two blocks over.

In the short span of time, all of the walls in the store had been busted down and the restaurant had practically turned into a hazardous wasteland. And since construction was too far out of your pay grade, you decided to leave the heavy lifting up to everyone else.

“Alright, permit done!” You throw your hands up in the air, your theatrics catching the attention of a couple next to you. You could hardly care for the stares, though, you had been working on getting that permit for the past four days straight. Slamming your laptop shut, you pack up your bags and head off to the cash register to buy another coffee before you go.

While you wait for your drink, you decide to scroll aimlessly through your phone to kill some time.

“Oh shit,” you hear a voice utter behind you, and you barely have time to process the word before something ice cold is running down your back. “Fuck, I’m fucking sorry, I didn’t even see you—“

You gasp on reflex, taking a step forward and shivering. The person who spilled their drink on you is stuttering out apologies. The liquid seeps into the jacket you were wearing and you pull it off immediately.

“Yo, what the fuck, dude,” you curse, watching the large stain of coffee spread even farther across your jacket. “Watch where the hell you’re walking—”

In the middle of trying to give the perpetrator a piece of your mind, you failed to recognize the familiar sound of the voice that was spewing apology out of apology. But in a second, your eyes met a recognizable set of blue and you halted your words.

In front of you stands Carmen Berzatto. In his signature colored sweater and a half-spilled cup of coffee in his hand.

And he looks petrified.

It seems he didn’t realize just who was the unlucky victim to his americano attack either until you turned around. His mouth agape, he utters out a jumbled apology, glancing back at you, your stained jacket, and the cup in his hand like his brain was still trying to understand what just happened.

“Uh-uh, fuck, sorry, I swear this wasn’t on purpose,” he rambles, placing his cup on the counter behind you and grabbing some napkins right after. He steps back towards you and shoves his hand of napkins to you. “Here, shit, I’m so sorry.”

You sigh, taking the napkins from him, noting the slight tremor that persisted in his hands as you did so. Taking in a slow breath, you close your eyes and count to ten before responding. “It’s okay, Carmen. Don’t worry about it.”

And even though you tried to maintain your peace, you can hear the annoyance seeping out of your words. Carmen glances around the counter before looking back at you and your soaked jacket. You know he probably wants to apologize some more, but honestly, one more apology might land him with a punch to the gut. 

Just as he opens his mouth, you raise your free hand, silencing him immediately. You shake your head in dismissal before taking the napkins offered to you and blotting the coffee out of the fabric of your jacket. Carmen simply stood in his place, watching you, seeing if he could do anything to redeem himself in this situation. 

However, after they called your name for your drink order, you dumped the used napkins in the trash, took your drink and hightailed it out of the café without one more word to the man. 

After the coffee shop incident, you swear that you started to see Carmen everywhere. 

You needed a quiet place to plan outside of your house so you went to one of the local libraries. Guess who’s walking outside the building?

You need a late night snack and decide to hit up the corner store. Guess who’s in the refrigerated section?

Hell, you decide to stay late at The Bear for some last minute checkups? Guess who forgot to grab a few things before leaving that night?

You swear that before you hopped on The Bear train, you never even saw a glimpse of the man. Sure, you lived relatively near the restaurant, but Chicago is fucking huge, there’s no way you would run into one of the few people that you’re trying to avoid. 

Absolutely not, apparently. 

Finally finishing up the weekly budget report and estimate for the following weeks till open, you decide to take a step away from work for a second and give your brain some time to breath. 

“Hey, Syd, if anyone needs me, I’m outside taking a smoke break, ‘kay,” you yell across the restaurant, receiving a thumbs up from her from the other side of the room. “Be back in 15!”

Reaching into your bag, you pull out a pack of cigs and a lighter before heading to the back entrance of the restaurant. You place the cigarette between your lips and head to the backdoor. Stepping out and around the alley to the designated smoke corner, you fiddle with the lighter switch, hearing the light sizzle but seeing no flames emerge. 

You groan, flicking the lighter again and again and still no lig–

“Umm, uh, you need a light?”

You scream, your heart almost skipping a beat and falling out on the concrete below you. In your alarm, both your cigarette and the lighter drop on to the ground. "Shit," you mutter and throw a glance over at whoever had scared the living shit out of you and, surprise suprise . . .

There was Carmen, standing in the alley a few feet away from the door. One leg was kicked up to rest his foot against the wall behind him and a cigarette hung loosely between his fingers. His eyes trailed across you for a second, then he glanced at the cigarette on the ground before taking another draw from his own and staring out the wall in front of him.

If you had half of the energy, you would tell him off for scaring the shit out of you and book it out of the enclosed space.

Lucky for Carmen, however, you really needed that cigarette.

Reaching back into your bag once more, you pull out another cig and walk slowly over to the man. Your steps gain his attention once again and when your eyes met you gestured to the lighter hanging out of his cooking apron.

He grabs the lighter and hands it to you. As you reach out to grab it, your fingers brush against his knuckles. Some quick thought in the back of your head wishes that that physical interaction lasted a little longer, but you're quick to shoo that away into the deep recesses of your mind.

Lighting your cigarette, you hand the lighter back to him before taking a drag. Blowing the smoke out, you slid down the wall until you could lean back into a squat against it.

The two of you just stand there, in complete silence aside from the occasional cough from an improper pull. This quiet isn't nearly as awkward as the first run-in the two of you had. Maybe it's because of the nicotine or maybe it's because continuously running into Carmen over these past days had subconsciously made you a little more comfortable with his presence.

. . .

Nah, it definitely had to be the nicotine.

You glance up at Carmen, who continues to smoke even though his stick had turned into a bud a while ago. You make note of the new tattoos that run down his arms and hands, eyes stopping at the rose flower tattoo on his left hand.

You remember when he got that one done with you at the parlor for his eighteenth birthday.

Subconsciously, you rub at the matching rose on your thigh before sighing and focusing back on your cigarette. Young, dumb decisions, you think.

Above you, Carmen watches your focus retreat back and purses his lips. In all honesty, Carmen usually never finishes a whole cigarette, but he really needed an excuse to stay out here longer with you.

These past couple of days had been tormenting him just as much as it had been you, albeit for different reasons. Everytime Carmen ran into you, whether it be in that cafe or that random grocery store that one early morning, he was plagued with memories of everything that he had fucked up.

Not just the relationship that he had fucked, but the happiness that he had stolen from the both of you.

And he had so desperately been trying to apologize, but every time you saw his face, you would get that look on your own. That dread, the anxiousness, that annoyance. That anger.

Whenever he saw that expression on your face, he would get too choked up to say anything of significance. A simple 'hey" would be all that would leave his mouth. Either that or he would stutter like he was a fucking kid again and embarrass himself in front of you like he seems to be doing constantly lately.

Carmen sighs, taking a final hit from his cigarette before stomping it out on the ground. By all previous experience, Carmen would book it out of the area by now, but something in his gut was telling him to stay this time.

Glancing down at you once more, he sees that you have taken to scrolling through your phone to kill the time. He bites the corner of his lip and decides to sit against the wall like you.

Instinctively, you toss him a questioning glance but when he didn't make any move to speak or gesture towards you, you shook your head and went back to whatever video had popped up on your feed.

Fuck it, he thought.

"I'm sorry."

You halt in the middle of your smoke, nearly coughing on the fumes but managing to swallow it. You look over at Carmen inquisitively, wondering where the hell that apology came from. The dirty blonde was wringing his hands, mouth opening and shutting as if he was trying to get the words out.

"Sorry for the, uh," he mutters, casting a quick glance in your direction to assure himself that you were listening. "Sorry for the, for uh-You know I didn't-I don't know how-"

"Yo, Carmen," you interrupt the world vomit that he was spewing, tossing your cigarette down before snuffing out the light with your shoe. You center your focus back on the man next to you, who seemed to only have you in his attention. "Just say what you want to say. No bullshit."

Your blunt words seem to ground Carmen long enough for him to gather his thoughts. He nods his head rapidly in that way he does when he's clearly overwhelmed before he clears his throat. He takes in a large inhale and clears his throat, ready to speak again.

"I want to apologize. For everything. For how much of an jackoff I was back then, and for how much I am right now," Carmen stars, eyes staring solidly into yours to show just how serious he is. "I didn't deserve you, and you did nothing to deserve the way that we ended."

You feel something burn the back of your throat at the mention of the end of your relationship. The total radio silence from him for the days prior, and just when you had managed to gather the courage to ask the question of just what the hell are we doing, Carmy, you were cast aside like nothing.

He was right, you didn’t deserve that.

Pushing back the feelings bubbling up in your chest, you nod your head to signal that you were listening.

"I-I, it's no excuse, but I was really going through some serious shit. And I really felt that if I cut everyone out of my life, I could actually get a second to breathe you know," Carmen pauses and you open your mouth to speak, but he continues. "I-I just know you deserved-you deserve better. But seeing you in this restaurant day-in and day-out, working away to help my sister, my crew--help me? I just felt even more like a piece of shit."

He turns fully towards you now and you can see his eyes turning red from the emotion he was clearly holding behind his words. "You didn't deserve what I did, and you definitely don't deserve to be cleaning up my messes now."

"You deserved the world, and I'm sorry I couldn't give it to you."

His last words send a sharp pang into your chest. Here you two sat, sitting next to each other, the distance between you two seemed to be filled with words unsaid. You stare into his eyes a little longer, at a loss for what to say completely.

On one hand, you wanted to reject his apology, tell him to fuck off and leave him alone in this alleyway. He would deserve it after everything.

But he has that familiar kicked puppy-dog look in his eyes and he's chewed his lip red, and he's actually sorry.

You sigh, leaning your head back to rest against the wall behind you. Staring up at the sky, you trace the shapes of the clouds above as you collect your thoughts.

"Yeah," you start, nodding your head to yourself. Carmen tenses up at the ambiguity behind both your words and your tone. He would have to have his own head shoved up his ass if he didn't realize that you had every right to refuse his plea for forgiveness. Frankly, that's exactly what he was expecting you to do.

"Yeah, okay. I can forgive you, Berzatto."

Carmen's heart sinks into his guts, mouth slightly agape in pure shock. "You-you can?"

You give a small smile, turning your head to face the man. "Yeah, Carmen, I accept your apology."

The dirty blonde opens his mouth again but you put a hand up in the space between you, effectively shutting him up for a second.

"But," you trail, "I'm gonna forward you that dry cleaning bill from that cafe, asshat. I've been trying to get that shit out for days now."

Carmen flushes a bright red at the mention of the coffee shop run-in you two had, a broken chuckle leaving his mouth at the obvious teasing tone in your voice. You were joking with him, for the first time in years, you two had managed to glimpse at the level of comfortability that you once shared.

Carmen chuckles again, running a hand through his curls. "Yeah, well, can I raincheck that until after the restaurant starts making money? I'm kinda flat fucking broke right now."

You giggle at the honesty behind his words. "Yeah, I ran those calculations by the way. Have fun being flat broke for at least three months after The Bear opens."

"Shit," Carmen mutters, a grin still on his face.

"Yeah, shit." You nod in his direction before pushing yourself off your crouched position on the ground. "Anyway, I'm gonna head inside to get back on that shit. Fak's fucking electric guy keeps flaking on us."

Carmen's eyes follow your form as you stand, holding eye contact with you when you glance back down at him. "Yeah, yeah, I should probably meet up with Syd for the chaos menu anyway."

He hurriedly stands up, wiping his hands on his work pants. After he finishes, he looks at you once again, noting the small smile on your face. For a second, he swears his heart skips a beat.

"For the record, Carmy," you play with the nickname on your tongue, having not said it in quite some time. Carmen flushes before nodding for you to continue. The small on your face falls for a second as you look at him. "You pull that shit with me again, I'm sicking the dogs on your ass. Seriously."

Carmen clears his throat, straightening up at the more serious tone of your voice. Although you were not nearly as angry looking at him as before, he knew that you were serious. There were no more apologies after this, no more fuckups.

You look at him expectantly, waiting for some form of acknowledgment.

He nods. "Yes, chef."

After the conversation outside The Bear, you and Carmen seemed to flow together much easier than before. Granted there was the occasional stray glance casted in your direction from the man, but overall, the two of you were on much more agreeable terms.

The rest of the crew seemed to notice the absence of uncertain tension between the two of you. You explained to Tina, Richie, and Sugar that you two had simply talked it out and were no longer on "spiteful ex" terms.

Richie, being the annoying man that he is, insisted that something else must've happened--to which you responded with a firm shoulder check and yet another middle finger.

Overall, the two of you seemed to only talk about business stuff, which made it easier for conversations to flow. Less personal, more concrete talks.

"Alright, Carmy, we got that certificate of occupancy, right?" You question, running down the legal checklist once again. When you heard no response, you asked again, only to be ignored again. Finally looking up from your screen, you glance up at the man, trying to figure out what could have possibly distracted him this time.

He's glancing, moreso glaring, down at his phone, watching it ring but making no moves to pick it up. He's spaced out almost, like he's lost in his thoughts.

You clear your throat and decide to try his name again. "Carmen!"

He shoots up a little and looks at you, muttering an apology out as he clicks his phone off and slides it into his back pocket. "What were you asking?"

"Umm, I was trying to see if you got that certificate of occupancy from Cicero mailed in," you raise an eyebrow at him. "You know, the one we need to get that other big, shiny certificate that shows that we can legal conduct business in the state of Illinois? That certificate?"

"Uhh, yeah, yeah. Mailed it in the other day, yeah."

You squint at his weird responses before shaking your head and diving back into your work. "Well, on another note, I've been speaking with a liason down at the office and he said we can have our second fire suppression test in two weeks instead of the project four."

Carmen walks up to the foldable chair you were sitting in, peering over your shoulder to look at your screen. He rests his hand against the back of your chair unconsciously and you can feel the heat of his body radiating off of him. You clear your throat and lean forward a little to get some distance between the two of you.

"Who's that going to?" The man points to an email that you are in the middle of drafting. Your eyes follow and land on the email you were writing to one of your school buddies. "Oh that? I'm just messaging one of my old classmates from college about an idea I had about our issues with that retail food license thing."

Carmen humms, peeking down at you as you explained the process you were thinking of going through. Though your eyes were stuck on the screen, clicking through different documents as you continued your explanation, Carmen's eyes were glued to your face.

To him, this all felt like some weird dream that he was having. His former high school sweetheart, sitting in his restaurant, talking all kinds of smart talk that he could barely understand, practically pressed against him. Although he didn't move over to your chair with the intent to press against you, he definitely noticed the proximity that you two shared.

Life had been a whirlwind these past weeks, but he felt that when he was near you that a lot of those anxieties he often has screaming in his head quieted down a little. He tried to chalk it up to the confidence that he had in your skills, but even though you are incredibly talented in your work, he knew that it was something more than that.

Something that he had to swallow down.

"Carmy, you motherfucker, are you even listening to me?" You call out, turning more in your chair and fixing him with an annoyed glare. Carmen swallows before nodding his head. "Ye-yeah, you have a plan to get that retail food license and alcohol seller's license at once right?"

You hum, giving him a once over again before turning in your seat. "Exactly. I think that my buddy Stephen can help us with that fire suppression test, he knows a thing or two--"

Carmen's eyes trace down your eyes, nose, and lips, noting the signature bite marks you left on your bottom one. He runs a tongue across his own before carding a hand through his hair to collect himself.

He was so fucked.

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[simplyraeblue]

King and Captive

(Hunter and Hunted Spin-Off) read here

modern au a chance meeting with Sukuna quickly turns into a nightly routine you can't escape. as the lines between game and something more blur, you start to wonder—how long can you keep playing, or will Sukuna make you his next conquest? !Sukuna x !femreader

chapter warnings/tags: swearing, light suggestive themes, use of "princess", "she" pronoun used, a few more characters appear, Sukuna and reader are both hot for each other, a hot mess if you squint lol A/N: what does it say about me that my dreams are now occupied by this fic three chapters in? anywaaaaays, hope I did the guest appearances justice with their personalities (｡- .•) I try to remind myself this is a modern au and I can't just allow Sukuna to be too "King of Curses" like lol. index part two | part four

part three word count : 2,711

Sukuna had always thought that love wouldn’t be something he easily fell into. he was torn between the idea that no one would be right for him – or that he would never be right for anyone. last summer felt like it had proved the latter to be true, even though he knew why things ended up the way they did.

but now, you kept coming back. back to that bar every day, back to his thoughts constantly. he couldn’t stop thinking about you and the feelings he got whenever you were around. excitement, intrigue, and most of all, awe. you took his playful insults and dished them back tenfold – something he was growing used to enjoying.

and yet you were still flustered around him. and that made him even more thrilled. whenever he’d get your cheeks to flush, or your gaze averted from him, he counted it as a win, just because he got to see your expression change. and when it did, he could tell that slowly, but surely, you were falling as fast as he was.

despite your best efforts, you were. the idea that after work you could meet Sukuna at the bar made the day go by much faster. you were even finding yourself primping in the mirror before leaving. and god forbid, your dreams at night… filthy. and filled with him.

you had denied yourself long enough right? he was interested in you, wasn’t entirely crazy, and was very very attractive. maybe it was time to finally kick your vengeance act into gear – Sukuna was the perfect candidate.

imagine your surprise when you stepped out of work, expecting the usual walk around the corner to the bar, only to find Sukuna leaning casually against his motorcycle, waiting for you. the sight sent a shiver down your spine. he held the strap of his helmet loosely with two fingers, slung over his shoulder like he had all the time in the world. when his crimson eyes met yours, that wicked grin of his spread across his face.

“well, this is unexpected,” you said as you approached, arms crossed in mock suspicion. “escaping our bar again?”

“you said our bar,” Sukuna pointed out, clearly relishing the words as he repeated them, his grin widening. “I like the sound of that. has a nice ring to it.”

you rolled your eyes. “don’t get used to it.”

“too late,” he shot back smoothly, his gaze fixed on you with a glint of mischief. “but I had a better idea today. you up for a little adventure?”

you raised a brow, glancing at his bike. “this isn’t one of those adventures where I mysteriously disappear and end up on the evening news, is it?”

Sukuna chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent warmth curling in your chest. “damn, you caught on to step six of my evil master plan,” he said, smirking.

“step six? what happened to steps one through five?” you asked, playing along despite the butterflies in your stomach.

“oh, those are just the warm-up,” Sukuna replied, leaning closer, his voice dipping just enough to send a thrill through you. “but don’t worry, princess. you’ll enjoy this.”

you hesitated for just a moment before nodding. “fine. but if this so-called adventure involves anything sketchy, I’m out.”

Sukuna’s grin only widened as he handed you the spare helmet, the same one you’d worn the night before. “relax, you’re in good hands. now, hop on.”

you clung to him a little tighter on the ride than you wanted to admit, the warmth of his back and the cool wind rushing past making for a strange, intoxicating contrast.

when the bike finally slowed, you glanced up, expecting some scenic overlook or hole-in-the-wall restaurant. instead, Sukuna pulled into the lot of a sleek, modern building. neon lights illuminated the name of the business: Cursed Ink.

“a tattoo shop?” you asked, sliding off the bike as he steadied it on the kickstand.

“my tattoo shop,” Sukuna corrected, pride lacing his tone as he pulled off his helmet.

you followed him inside, the smell of antiseptic and faint hints of ink filling the air. “wow,” you murmured, your eyes drifting to a wall of framed photographs showcasing some of the shop’s best work. “this is… impressive.”

“told you I’m full of surprises,” Sukuna said, watching you with an expression that was almost unreadable. he gestured toward one of the tattoo stations, where a black chair sat beneath a lamp. “that’s my spot.”

your gaze followed his hand, taking in the neatly arranged inks, the well-worn sketchpad sitting off to the side. “so, what? you brought me here to show off?”

“maybe,” he said with a shrug, but his grin hinted at more. “or maybe I figured you’d like to see a different side of me. you’re always so quick to think you’ve got me figured out.”

you turned to him, crossing your arms. “and what side is this, exactly?”

“the real one,” he said simply. “you’ve seen me at the bar, running my mouth and messing with you. but this? this is what I do. it’s what I’m good at.”

there was something uncharacteristically earnest in his tone, and it caught you off guard. you glanced around again, your gaze lingering on the bold, intricate designs hanging on the walls. “did you do these?”

“most of them,” Sukuna said, his voice tinged with cockiness. “the others are from the team. they’re good, but…” he trailed off, his smirk returning. “let’s be honest. I’m better.”

you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “of course you’d say that.”

“wanna see for yourself?” he challenged, stepping closer, his crimson eyes gleaming.

your pulse quickened as you caught the implication in his words. “what are you suggesting?”

“I’m saying,” Sukuna said, leaning against the counter, “if you’re feeling brave, I could give you a little something. something that’ll remind you of tonight.”

you hesitated, glancing at the tattoo chair, then back at Sukuna. the way his crimson eyes gleamed with challenge sent a rush of heat to your cheeks. “yeah, no,” you said firmly, crossing your arms. “I’m not letting you put a needle anywhere near me.”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “scared, princess?”

“scared?” you repeated with a scoff. “of you? hardly. but I’m not about to let you permanently mark me just because you feel like showing off.”

he chuckled, the sound low and rich as he leaned back against the counter, arms crossed in mock defeat. he planned to mark you one day alright, just not with ink. “your loss. you could’ve had something to remember me by.”

“oh, trust me,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes. “I think you’re already impossible to forget.”

his smirk widened at that, his gaze lingering on you just a little longer than necessary. “good,” he said simply, pushing off the counter and motioning for you to follow. “guess I’ll just have to show you around instead.”

you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and trailed behind him as he led you through the shop.

the place had more personality than you’d expected—walls lined with artwork, some of which you learned were Sukuna’s own designs.

“alright,” you admitted after he finished showing off a dragon piece that stretched across an entire back. “I’ll give you this—you’re good. like, really good.”

“finally, some recognition,” Sukuna teased, his grin smug. “I was starting to think you didn’t appreciate my talents.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” you replied, but the small smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

suddenly, the bell at the front door chimed, signaling someone had entered the shop. you glanced at Sukuna, raising an eyebrow as his mouth tugged into an irritated frown.

“sounds like the rest of the clowns decided to show up,” he muttered, his tone dripping with exasperation.

“Suku! saw your bike out front!” called a cheerful male voice, loud enough to echo through the shop. Sukuna’s eyes rolled so hard you were surprised they didn’t get stuck.

“should I be worried about your friends?” you teased, but the grim look on Sukuna’s face made you half-wonder if it was a legitimate concern.

“they’re not friends,” Sukuna corrected, his irritation palpable. “they’re my partners. Suguru and Uraume. and along with them is Suguru’s best friend—who also happens to be the most annoying brat I’ve ever met—Satoru.”

right on cue, three figures appeared from around the corner. the first, Suguru Geto, was tall and composed, with long, sleek black hair tied back. next to him, Uraume stood with an air of quiet confidence. their sharp gaze darted between you and Sukuna, as if assessing the situation before speaking.

trailing behind was Satoru Gojo, whose striking white hair and smug grin made him an instant attention-grabber. he wore round sunglasses despite it being nighttime, and his energy was as loud and brash as his voice.

“well, well,” Satoru began, striding forward with his hands in his pockets. “what’s this? Sukuna actually entertaining a guest? didn’t know you had it in you, buddy.”

“shut the fuck up, Gojo,” Sukuna snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Suguru gave you a polite nod, his tone smooth as he said, “don’t mind him. Satoru’s personality is… an acquired taste.”

“hey asshole! I heard that!” Satoru chimed, leaning forward to get a closer look at you. “so, who’s this? did you finally manage to find someone who doesn’t hate your guts, Sukuna?”

your lips twitched at the jab, but you stayed quiet, letting Sukuna handle the chaos.

“that's none of your business,” Sukuna growled, stepping slightly in front of you as if to shield you from whatever nonsense was about to follow.

Uraume’s gaze lingered on you for a moment before they turned to Sukuna, their voice calm and neutral. “you didn’t tell us you had company tonight.”

“I don’t need to tell you everything, do I?” Sukuna shot back.

“you never do,” Uraume said, the faintest hint of a smirk gracing their lips.

Suguru chuckled under his breath before addressing you directly. “forgive the intrusion. I’m Suguru. and the loud one is Satoru.”

“I’m right here!” Satoru protested, waving dramatically.

“and this is Uraume,” Suguru continued, ignoring the interruption.

you nodded at each of them, feeling the weight of their scrutiny but refusing to let it show. “nice to meet you. I guess.”

Satoru grinned, leaning toward Sukuna with a mock whisper. “she’s feisty.”

“say one more thing, and I’ll kick you out myself,” Sukuna threatened, his patience clearly wearing thin.

the group laughed—well, mostly Satoru and Suguru—while Uraume merely shook their head, as if used to the chaos.

Suguru leaned casually against the counter, arms crossed, his gaze flickering between you and Sukuna. “didn’t peg you as the type to bring someone here, Sukuna. let me guess, you’ve been bragging about how you’re the best artist in the city?”

Sukuna smirked, his annoyance ebbing slightly. “don’t need to brag. everyone already knows.”

“yeah, yeah,” Satoru cut in, waving a hand dismissively before plopping himself onto one of the tattoo chairs. “but damn, what’s the deal? you’ve been dodging our calls, and now we find you playing tour guide?” he turned to you, grinning like a cheshire cat. “what kind of blackmail material do you have on him?”

you couldn’t help but snort at the absurdity. “I think he just likes tormenting me in person.”

Satoru laughed loudly, slapping the arm of the chair. “oh shit, she’s funny. I like her.”

Sukuna shot him a glare that could’ve withered a plant. “you’re testing my patience, Gojo.”

Uraume stepped forward, their tone as cool as ever. “should we expect you to actually focus on work tomorrow, or are you going to be… otherwise occupied?”

“I don’t report to you,” Sukuna snapped, his crimson eyes narrowing.

Suguru raised his hands in mock surrender, the picture of calm. “alright, alright, we’ll stop prying. but next time, maybe let us know when you’re busy, so we don’t interrupt your – ahem – quality time.”

Sukuna groaned, clearly regretting every life choice that led to this moment. “you’re all insufferable. I swear, one day—”

“yeah, yeah,” Satoru interrupted with a grin, spinning lazily in the chair. “one day you’ll kill us all. heard it a million fucking times. anyway,” he turned back to you, “you must be special if you’ve got the king of grump spending his evenings with you.”

you blinked, caught off guard by the shift in attention towards you again. before you could respond, Sukuna stepped in, his voice sharp. “she’s not here for your entertainment, Gojo. don’t you have some other poor soul to annoy?”

“not tonight,” Satoru replied cheerily, leaning back as if he owned the place.

Suguru gave you an apologetic glance, his expression softening. “he means well. most of the time.”

Uraume, meanwhile, was silent but observant, their gaze never straying far from you or Sukuna. you got the sense they were assessing something, but what, you couldn’t tell. their gaze made you feel… uneasy. like you were a specimen under a microscope.

“I think that’s enough,” Sukuna said suddenly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “you’ve seen me. I’m alive. now get lost.”

“aw, don’t be like that, Suku,” Satoru teased, standing and stretching dramatically. “we were just starting to have fun.”

“I’m serious,” Sukuna growled, his patience officially gone.

Suguru chuckled under his breath but relented, motioning for Satoru and Uraume to follow. “alright, we’ll leave you to it. but don’t think this means we’re done with you.”

Uraume cast Sukuna a long look before turning to you. “it was… interesting to meet you.”

“likewise,” you replied, though you weren’t entirely sure what to make of them. did they hate you already? did you have something on your face?

with that, the trio finally made their exit, the bell chiming once again as the door swung shut behind them.

the silence that followed was almost jarring. you turned to Sukuna, raising an eyebrow. “so… that’s your crew?”

“unfortunately,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “don’t let them scare you off. they’re more trouble than they’re worth.”

you smirked, leaning against the counter. “I don’t know. I kind of liked them.”

Sukuna groaned. “don’t encourage them. especially Gojo. that idiot doesn’t need more fuel for his damn ego.”

despite his grumbling, you could tell there was a begrudging fondness buried – deep – beneath the surface. it was strange, seeing Sukuna interact with people who clearly knew him so well, even if they drove him up the wall.

“alright, enough about them,” he said, his tone softening as he turned back to you. “where were we before the circus rolled in?”

you laughed softly. “something about me not letting you give me a tattoo?”

his lips curled into a smirk, the playful glint returning to his eyes. “right. you’re still a coward for that, by the way.”

“keep dreaming,” you shot back, but the warmth in his gaze made it hard to keep the smile off your face.

Sukuna leaned closer, his smirk sharp as ever, his voice dropping to a low rumble. “you know, you can’t avoid it forever. one day, you’ll let me leave my mark on you.”

“don’t count on it,” you replied, trying to sound defiant despite the way your heartbeat quickened.

“hmm,” he hummed, leaning back casually. “we’ll see.”

the tension hung in the air, thick and electric, before Sukuna finally grabbed his helmet and tossed it your way. you barely caught it, giving him a questioning look.

“come on,” he said, already heading for the door. “let’s get out of here, it’s getting late.”

you rolled your eyes but followed, the sound of the shop’s lights clicking off behind you.

as you climbed onto the back of his bike, your arms instinctively wrapped around his waist, the motion feeling almost second nature by now. it was startling how natural it felt—being this close to him, fitting into this unpredictable rhythm he’d drawn you into. a thought crept into your mind, frustratingly persistent: would you feel disappointed if he didn’t show up tomorrow?

the answer lingered in your chest, heavier than you expected.

⊹. ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . taglist: @mangiswig@aldebrana@ravester@marie-is-in-the-dark@makingtimemine @sorahatake @osohchoso @csolya @clp-84 @chosokamoluvr . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

[jeankluv]

Birdie - Satoru Gojo | Chapter 17

words: 4k

summary: While everyone adored him, you stood apart in your feelings. It wouldn't be accurate to say you hated him, as " hate " was a strong word, rather, you harbored a profound dislike towards him. The problem was he knew that and his irritating presence seemed to persistently cling to you whenever he crossed your paths.

Now, you found yourself paired with him for your semester project, and the thought made you wish to hurl yourself out of the third-floor window. Three months of working alongside him loomed ahead. Adding to the discomfort, you were currently under the scrutiny of hundreds of eyes, each gaze feeling like a murder attempt. It seemed everyone coveted the opportunity to collaborate with Gojo Satoru, except for you.

ac: _3aem

tags: modern au, college au, fem!reader, academic rivals, he fell first, fluff, old money Gojo Satoru, abusive parents, slight slow burn, Satoru is a softy, secondary couple (Geto Suguru x oc), a bit of angst, no use of y/n, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, Gojo plays basketball, Gojo needs a hug

warning for this chapter: mentions of s€xual harassment

notes: posting this before chapter 265, bc I’m scared 😭 also during this month I will be posting a sneak peek of an upcoming Gojo fic I will be posting, if you want to be tagged to see the sneak peek please let me know , comment something like “I want to see the sneek peak” and I will tag you 💗

materialist | previous chapter | next chapter

jujutsu kaisen | ao3

Satoru Gojo POV

Satoru tied the buttons of the vest he was wearing. He had put on a navy blue three-piece suit, or rather he had been forced by the Utahime to do so. It seems that way he would go with you that night. Satoru looked at his reflection, he looked good, but no matter how much he dried his hands, they were still sweaty. Satoru was extremely nervous. There were a bunch of things that were in his head but they all danced around the charity gala that night.

He was nervous about the gala, about meeting his parents after the last time, meeting his grandparents, meeting the other families present, but what he was most nervous about was seeing you. Satoru didn't feel ashamed to take you to the gala if he could, Satoru would come in shouting from the rooftops to ask everyone to look at you and admire you. But Satoru knew that one wrong step could ruin everything and that could hurt you in a way he didn't want.

Putting his hand on his chest, he took a deep breath and grabbed his car keys to leave his apartment. There were still 20 minutes until the agreed time to see you, but Satoru preferred to wait for himself than make you wait so he drove, with his gaze fixed on the road.

The sun was still shining but the sky had already begun to take on that orange tone that indicated that night was about to arrive. It was evident that summer was just around the corner, the days had become longer and the temperatures had begun to rise. Satoru was looking forward to it, he had too many plans for the both of you in mind, he wanted to take you to the beach again, take you to festivals, to see the fireworks, etc., Satoru wanted to spend the first of many summers to come with you.

He parked the car, right in front of your house and stayed inside the car as he waited for the time to come. His leg moved up and down and his heart pumped heavily into his chest. He knew you were going to look beautiful and that he, was going to lose his head and fell to his knees.

With barely 5 minutes left, Satoru got out of his car and put on his suit so that it wouldn't look wrinkled after sitting in the car. He felt how the people passing by looked at him and began to whisper about him. Most of the time it was something he didn't care about, but now he just wanted a pair of eyes on his.

Satoru heard the door open and his heart began to race, he looked like a teenager in one of those American movies waiting for his partner to take her to the prom. With his hand on his chest, he watched you walk out onto the street and Satoru swore his heart could stop at that moment.

You were wearing a blue dress with gold details, with a v-neckline, which fit at your waist, highlighting your figure and then fell softly to the floor. Satoru approached you and took in the subtle makeup that highlighted your features. You were beautiful, no, the word beautiful was not enough to describe what Satoru's eyes saw. You were a queen, a goddess.

“Stop looking at me with those eyes.” You whispered hiding the heat of your face.

Satoru covered his mouth and then chuckled. “I’m sorry birdie.” His cheeks were red and hurting from the smile that was drawn on his face. “You look… oh god, I could die right here and now.”

You softly laughed and Satoru felt how he was falling in love with you all over again. “Please don’t, I don’t want to use this beautiful dress to be sitting in a hospital room.”

Satoru laughed and kissed your cheeks. “I think we have some stalkers.” He moved his eyebrows looking behind you.

You turned around and looked where Satoru was looking. “I told you to stay inside!” You cried looking at Kyoko and her parents.

“Sorry, sorry but you two look so cute.” Kyoko said with a smile.

You huffed and took Satoru's hand. “Let's go.”

“Have fun and be careful.” You heard Kyoko's mother and father scream. You said goodbye with a smile and got into Satoru's car.

Satoru waved goodbye to them too and entered the car, looking at you with a smile. “Ready?” You nodded, but Satoru noticed your nervous expression, so he intertwined his hands and raised it to his mouth. "Everything will be fine." He said planting a kiss on your hand.

“Thank you.” You whispered with a smile.

Satoru just nodded and resignedly let go of your hand, to hold the steering wheel and drive off to reach the venue where the charity gala would be held. Even though Satoru had tried to reassure you, he was also extremely nervous, either way he wanted to avoid meeting his parents in that place or someone who could potentially ruin your evening, so he would make sure to have all his instincts on alert to that nothing happened and you could enjoy.

His blue eyes focused on the road ahead, the sun was already setting, painting the sky with orange and pink colors. There wasn’t much traffic on your way there, probably because most people left for the weekend to spend their time on the beach.

As you both got closer to where the gala was going to take place, Satoru could feel his hands sweating even more. It was then when he felt your hand on his arm, squishing it gently trying to calm him down.

Satoru released one of his hands from the steering wheel and intertwined your hands, gently caressing it with his thumb, giving you security and strength for the evening that awaited both of you.

When he finally parked the car the parking lot that screamed money, he turned to look at you and held both of your hands with his.

“If you want to leave.” Satoru began. “Doesn’t matter when, just tell me and we leave.” He looked you in the eyes. “And don’t try to pretend to be someone you are not, be yourself. Because your true self is awesome and I hope everyone sees it.”

You looked at him with a warm expression. “You are the amazing one.” You kissed his lips.

Satoru smiled and he got out of the car to turn and open your door, you wrapped his arm tightly and you both began to walk towards the entrance.

Your POV

Your heart was beating frenetically, you didn’t understand why you were that nervous, if it was because you could be meeting Satoru’s family that night, for the people who were attending or because you were scared that you could fucked up everything and make Satoru somehow embarrassed.

Although Satoru’s words were calming and his touch was warm and recomforting, which brought you a big security.

You both entered the elevator with your arm still around Satoru's. You looked at the dress Utahime had given you and smiled, it was beautiful, you felt beautiful that night.

The elevator opened it’s door on the floor that the gala was taking place and your stomach turned, feeling the anxiety taking over you. But once again Satoru’s comforting touch made you relax. You put the best of the smiles on your face and walked proudly beside Satoru.

As you started to enter the big places, you saw how the gazes of curious eyes turned to look at you and started gossiping about you.

“They are probably wondering who is the beautiful girl besides the heir of the Gojo clan, so relax.” Satoru whispered to your ear.

You nodded and tried not to pay too much attention to all the eyes that were in you, but it was difficult as their whispers seemed to become louder with each passing moment. Trying to distract yourself from them you took a look at the place, it was pure luxury, white and gold colors adorned the place and everyone looked fancy.

You didn’t want to feel small looking at those people and that place, but it was hard not to. And it was harder not to think about the difference between you and Satoru. It seemed as if with every minute that passed, it grew even wider and you held on with your nails to keep from falling.

“You okay?” Satoru stood before you, with a concerned look on his face.

“Yes, yes.” You nodded. “It’s just new, all this.”

Satoru leaned towards your face and placed a kiss on your cheek, causing your face to probably take on a reddish hue. “I know it might not be the best moment but I want you to meet someone.” He held your hand and you felt as your heart stopped.

Your legs started to shake as you moved across the place. Satoru greeted those present as he made his way through the people. And your heart only accelerated more with every step you took towards the unknown person or people that he wanted to introduce you to.

His hand tangled with yours gave you security and you knew Satoru would not put you in a thought situation. All your friends were just right about him, he was down on your knees for you. It had been difficult to see him but now every time you looked at him you could see in his eyes the admiration and affection he had for you. And that only made your heart race as fast as it could. Your old self from three months ago would hate to admit it out loud, but you were completely in love with him.

“Grandma, grandpa.” Your mind came back to reality and you found yourself in front of an old couple, Satoru’s grandparents.

“Oh Satoru!” The lady hugged Satoru, who was still holding your hand tightly. “You came and look at you, you look beautiful.”

“Grandma please.” You noticed Satoru’s red cheeks and couldn’t help but smile watching his shy face.

“It’s good to see you son.” His grandfather spoke.

“It’s good to be here.” He smiled. “And I would like to introduce you to someone.” His smile became bigger, he proudly said your name and you felt your heart melting.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Gojo and Mrs. Gojo.” You greeted them with a small bow.

Your heart started to rise when they both stayed in silence looking at you. “Oh darling, you are so beautiful.” His grandmother hugged you. “Satoru has told me about you.” You smiled and looked at Satoru.

“You two are dating?” His grandfather questioned him.

“Yes.” Satoru firmly said.

“Which family are you from?” You felt your heart sinking, you were not ashamed of your mother's surname but you knew why he was asking that question.

“Grandpa…” Satoru began.

But you cut him off and told him your family name. “It’s my mother’s family name.”

He looked at you with a sharp gaze, that could make anyone feel small but you wouldn’t let that happen. “No father?”

Satoru gripped his fits. “Grandpa enough please.”

“No sir, he abandoned my mom as soon as he found out she was pregnant.” You said, coldly. You felt Satoru’s eyes on you and you could tell he was probably worried about you.

“Your mother is really brave.” His grandmother spoke. “Satoru told me about you and you seem like a very nice girl.” You bit your lip, your mother had barely raised you, it was only six years that you were together before chance took her away from you.

“Grandma…”

“Yeah.” You smiled. “She is amazing.”

You didn’t know his grandparents and you and Satoru hadn't been dating that long, so his family might get the wrong idea about you and think you were after their fortune. And you didn't want that, because it wasn't true and you trusted Satoru, but you didn't want false ideas put into his head.

“Your parents are looking for you Satoru.” His grandfather spoke once again.

You felt Satoru tense up next to you and in an attempt to calm him down, you ran your hand along his back, trying to make his nervousness disappear. Satoru just nodded and Satoru's grandparents excused themselves to go greet a couple a little further away. Satoru's grandmother gave you a warm smile that made you feel good and calm. When they both left, you both expelled the air you had in your lungs and laughed when you saw that you had made the same gesture.

“Sorry that they asked you about your parents.”

You shook your head. “It’s okay, I knew they could ask me.” He smiled. “Your grandfather told you that your parents are looking for you.”

He sighed. “Yeah but I really don’t feel like seeing them, besides I know they are going to be really harsh with you.”

“I can handle them.”

“Birdie…”

“Oh look how beautiful you look!” A female voice said behind the both of you.

“Utahime!” You smiled.

“You look amazing, everything looks amazing.” She said looking at you.

“You know, if I didn’t know you had a girlfriend I would be jealous thinking you might be flirting with my girlfriend.” Satoru whispered.

“Gojo shut up.” Utahime responded. “But really you look so beautiful.”

“It’s all thanks to you.” You smiled holding her hands.

“Only because the model it’s beautiful.”

You saw Satoru rolling his eyes. “Anyways, Utahime can you stay with birdie?”

“You are already leaving your girlfriend alone?”

“I’m leaving her with you, since the both of you seem to get along so well.”

“We do.” Utahime took your arm.

“Satoru, let me go…” But Satoru shook his head.

“I will see you in a bit.” And kissed your cheek.

You sighed seeing how he disappeared between the people. You wanted to go with him and supporting him if he was facing his parents.

“If he is going to see his parents it’s better like this.” Utahime turned you around and both of you started walking across the room. “They are… they are really complicate and won’t leave you alone.”

“I just want to be there for Satoru.” You looked down.

“And I’m sure Satoru knows that but believe me, I have known the Gojo family since I was literally a kid and his parents are something else.” She shook her head. “Probably as soon as they find out that you are not from any wealthy family, will try to cut your relationship with Satoru.”

You looked at her with concern. “Satoru is an adult, they can’t…”

“These families are not like the rest, most people here only care about their money, their status and their name. They don’t care whether their children are happy or not.”

“That’s why you are hiding it?” You asked her.

“In part, I’m afraid but I also know that my parents are not like most of these families.” She smiled. “I know I would have their support but still I’m afraid and I’m just sending hints to them.” She looked at you.

“I’m glad to hear that Utahime.” You smiled back at her.

“Now let’s go and grab some drinks shall we?” She giggled and started walking towards the bar.

Satoru Gojo POV

Satoru walked through the people that gathered around the room, laughing and chatting happily while drinking expensive wine, as if nothing else mattered. His blue eyes scanned the room searching for those familiar figures, which caused his stomach to close.

When he saw them talking animatedly with a couple, he clenched his fists and took a deep breath, before starting to walk towards them and putting on his best mask.

“Mother, father.” Satoru greeted both of them.

And like the perfect two face they were, they acted as two loving parents. “Oh our lovely son!” His mother said.

“Son this are Mr. And Mrs. Tanaka.” His father introduced them. “They are the owners of a major technology company.”

“It’s a pleasure.” Satoru said with a smile.

“Our son is currently studying a major in technology.” His mother said and Satoru got the urge to punch the air.

“I’m actually studying physics, astrophysics if we are more correct.” Satoru smiled.

“Oh how interesting.” Mr. Tanaka said.

“You are the same age as our daughter.” Mrs. Tanaka smiled.

“Oh really?” His mother said with surprise. “Sana was such a good girl, you two should meet and maybe…”

“Sorry.” Satoru knew where this conversation was going and he was not liking it. “I have a girlfriend and I’m not interested in meeting anyone.”

“Son, don't be stupid, you will probably break up with that girl.” His father said.

“Father, I’m not planning on breaking up with her, I love her. So I would like for both of you to respect that.” He looked at his parents, feeling how heart was starting to race with each sentence being said. “Now if you would excuse me.”

Satoru farewelled from them and started to walk quickly as if the steps he was taking weren’t enough to escape from them. He wanted to see you, to kiss you, to hug you and to take you away from that place.

Satoru walked through the great hall, greeting those who greeted him. He knew most of them and knew that their kindness was nothing more than interest, interest in getting closer to his clan and the company. So Satoru just gave them a smile and continued on his way, searching for you in the crowd.

But Satoru’s heart dropped when he saw the scene a few meters from him.

You were behind Utahime looking down and hiding your face, while Utahime was loudly shouting at the person she had in front of her. Satoru didn’t know what was happening but his pulse, his heart, everything was telling him that something happened and you were not okay.

With big steps he approached the surroundings and finally saw the person Utahime was screaming at, Naoya Zenin. Satoru knew he was not good news, he was the worst of news actually. He took a deep breath and walked to where you and Utahime were.

“Hey.” He ignored Naoya. “What happened?” He touched your face, which was still hidden from his gaze.

“Naoya happened.” Utahime muttered. “That asswhole.” She turned to look at you and whispered your name in a sweet way. “You okay?”

“Utahime tell me what happened.” Satoru begged.

Utahime hesitated, unsure if she should or not tell him what happened. “Well he…”

“No, Utahime… please.” You whispered.

You sounded defeated almost like you were about to pass out. Satoru swallowed, he wanted to know why you were like that but he also didn’t want to push you further.

He took a quick look at Naoya and then took your hand. “We're going to leave.”

“I'm leaving too, I don’t feel like being here anymore.” Utahime said and lovingly rubbed your back.

When you got to the car, unlike other times you didn't get into the passenger seat, but instead you went straight to the back, to sit with Utahime or rather to rest your head on his lap.

Satoru's discomfort did not stop increasing, it killed him to see you like this, it killed him that he could not do anything to help you to alleviate whatever he wanted you to be suffering at that moment.

It wasn't until you were in the car that Satoru saw your face. It was swollen and your eyes were red from crying. The mere thought that Naoya had made you cry made his blood boil. He knew you well enough to know that you were not easy to cry and that you hardly bowed your head, so Naoya had to really hurt you for you to be like this.

Satoru tried to focus on the road but his mind couldn’t stop thinking, couldn’t stop racing. When he parked the car in Utahime's building he watched as you both said your goodbyes.

“If you need, call me or Shoko.” You only hummed in response. “Bye Satoru.”

“Bye…” He only said.

And the car stayed quiet, Satoru tried to remain calm and to approach you as calmly as possible. He didn’t know why you were in the state you were but wanted to help you.

“Birdie…” He whispered, looking at you through the interior mirror.

“It was nothing.” You whispered.

Satoru narrowed his eyes and sighed. "Nothing? Birdie, look at the state you’re in, that’s not nothing.”

“Satoru, just… drive me home.” You simply said.

Satoru shook his head and got out of the car and went into the back, sitting next to you. “My love, look at me.”

In that instant, when the words left his mouth, Satoru was not aware of the nickname. For him it had been natural, something that had come from his heart and that he was not afraid to say. But when your red eyes, from crying so much, looked at him, he realized the new nickname he had used.

“You just…” You whispered.

Satoru chuckled and closed his eyes. “Yes birdie, I just did that.” But Satoru couldn't be distracted, he couldn't ignore that you looked completely defeated. “But birdie, please talk to me.”

Satoru felt how your breathing trembled and how you closed your eyes tightly. Without waiting a second, Satoru wrapped you in his arms and his heart broke a little when you began to sob against his vest. His grip tightened, wanting your pain to go away. But he also wanted to go back to that place and beat up Naoya, he didn't know why but he knew that he deserved it.

“He was my boss…” You whispered after a few minutes.

You separated yourself from his body and looked into Satoru's eyes, he could feel the vulnerability in your gaze, something he had rarely seen in you. He carefully caressed your cheek, trying to give you warmth and security.

“I used to work at his bar, after working at the store.” You continued. “It was bad…” You whispered.

Satoru watched and swallowed, thinking about the possibilities you had to face with that bastard. “Birdie…”

“I used to have panic attacks before going there.” A broken chuckle escaped your lips. “But I kept on going, because the salary was not bad and I needed the money.”

You felt silent, with your breath still unstable and your face buried on Satoru’s chest. You probably could feel his heart beating fastly on his chest, he wanted to calm himself not to distress you but he couldn’t, not when you were telling him that.

“Back at the club where we went, I met him.” You paused. “I was with Shoko and then Yuki came, so nothing happened.”

Then something on Satoru clicked. “It was him.” It wasn’t a question, it was an affirmation and you just hummed. “Birdie…” Satoru's voice shook, your nickname coming out in a thin voice from his throat. “Did he… did he ever put his hand on you?”

You stayed silent, just squeezed his shirt and breathed deeply. “He tried…” Satoru at that moment saw red and his only thought was to get out of that car and return to the gala to beat up the Zenin's posh kid. “But nothing happened, a client came in and… well he stopped, but his disgusting behavior and sexual harassment never stopped.”

“I'm so sorry…” Satoru whispered against your hair. You shook your head.

“It's not your fault, you are an angel, 'Toru.” Satoru kissed your hair and caressed your back.

“You want to tell me what happened tonight at the party?” Satoru pulled away from you and you finally looked at him, your eye makeup was smudged and your nose was slightly red as were your eyes.

“Can we go home first?” You asked, looking into his blue eyes.

“Sure…” He whispered, leaving a kiss on the corner of your lips.

— comment if you want to be tagged

🏷️: @lavender-hvze , @crybabytoru , @sanriosatoru , @norvacaine , @sadmonke , @faetoraa , @hexipessimistic , @gojoful , @kitzusune , @sh0jun , @manyno , @ropickle , @anniegojo , @milk3evee , @crunchypotatoooooooooo , @catobsessedlady , @zoeyflower , @starlostwish , @tinydonkeysforlife , @mimisq11341 , @n1vi , @olanii1019 , @vtrulvamp , @yjuisu

[sharksandsquirrelsandsnakes-ohmy]

Stiles is Supernatural Crack

3. Puppy Piles and Magic Spells

Masterlist | AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10

Derek parked along the street and Stiles opened his car door. His nose was still stuck in the book to the point that he didn’t see Scoot and literally walked into him.

“Scott, hey man. Look at all the cool things I found in this book,” Stiles said and looked up at Scott. His eyes had heavy bags under them. He was pale and practically dead on his feet.

Scott took the book away. “How many spells did you do? You need to go to bed,” Scott definitively.

Stiles rolled his eyes but walked towards his house with Scott and Derek to either side. Jackson trailed behind them, ready to play catch if he had too. They made it to the threshold of the door and were stopped. Scott unlocked the door and pushed it open, feeling his hand hit a barrier.

“Stiles, did you put mountain ash in the doorway,” Scott asked with a sigh.

“And the windows. I do whenever there’s a new big bad. Here,” Stiles said, kicking his foot out. He didn’t touch the line of ash but it scattered like he had. “I’ll fix it later.”

Scott and Derek shared a look. Magic. Stiles held the Nemeton magic.They crossed the entryway. Jackson turned to open the door and stopped. He was completely perplexed. The line of mountain ash had reformed itself. He got Derek and Scott’s attention and pointed it out. He closed the door and decided not to think too hard on it. Maybe it was a new Stiles thing.

“God, why am I so tired,” Stiles huffed. It was relieving and irritating all at once. He wasn’t supposed to sleep on a concussion– he wondered if it still applied since he’d apparently been unconscious most the night– but he was drained. On the bright side, the buzzing was weak and wasn’t nearly as loud.

“Probably because you were muttering spells the whole way here,” Jackson mumbled, earning a glare from Derek.

“I’ll make you something to eat,” Scott told Stiles. “You go up to bed.”

Stiles looked at Scott like he was crazy. “Scott, you’ll burn my house down,” He said with raised eyebrows, quickly adding a “sorry Derek.”

“Come on man, I’m not that bad!”

“Do you remember that time we tried to make pizza and you thought it would be cool to cook it like they do in a pizza oven and you didn’t put a pan under the pizza when you put it in the oven…”

“Fine! I’ll just make a sandwich. Jeez…” Scott mumbled and Stiles smirked, shooting him finger guns.

Stiles started towards the stairs and about ate shit. He would have if Derek hadn’t been there to catch him by the shirt. He took another step and another. As he went up to his room, he was pretty sure Derek was never more than two inches away.

Or at least he was till they got to Stiles’ room. Stiles walked in and crawled under his covers. He stretched and sighed. Damn, it felt good to be in his own bed again. He felt fucking exhausted and energized all at once. He looked up to see Derek just standing by the door staring at him. Stiles returned the stare but Derek didn’t seem to care.

Stiles narrowed his eye, watching Derek. “Are you going to stand there like a creep or…” he asked and Derek rolled his eyes.

Derek walked over to Stiles’ desk and pulled out the chair. He dragged it next to Stiles’ bed and sat down. He didn’t stop staring at Stiles.

He snorted, “yes, that is so much better. You, sitting next to my bed and staring at me…”

“Would a sandwich stop the weird,” Scott asked, walking into the room with a plate and a glass of water.

“No but it’ll stop my stomach from trying to eat itself,” Stiles said, sitting up to take the plate. “What’s this,” he asked, holding up a pill.

“Sleeping pills,” Scott shrugged.

“Not the melatonin ones, right? Those ones cause the–”

“I know,” Scott said, hearing the uptake in Stiles’ heartbeat. “I made sure to get yours.”

“Great,” Stiles said, popping the pills in his mouth and chugging the water.

He didn’t even remember eating the sandwich. Stiles woke up to the whole troop crowding him again. Well, except Jackson who seems to have taken over Derek’s position as the Creepy Corner Stalker™. Scott was laying in the bed on Stiles’ right and Kira was asleep on top of him. Ethan was also in the bed on his left. Malia, who didn’t have the word personal space anywhere in her vocabulary, was laying at the end of the bed in the last bit of room left. Isaac passed out sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed, and Liam was on the floor too, leaning on Isaac’s shoulder and the bed. Derek… Derek was in his full wolf form, laying on Stiles’ chest

Stiles was fucking suffocating from the shear amount of heat radiating off the others. Add his blankets and two more that Scott and Malia had apparently deemed necessary and he felt like he was having a heat stroke. The change in Stiles breathing, signaling he was awake, must have been like a goddamned alarm clock because they all woke up and were staring at him.

“Gee, almost the whole gang's here,” Stiles rasped, his voice still rough from sleep.

“Lydia and Mason are doing research in the kitchen,” came a rogue mumble from god-knows-who in the pile.

“Why don’t we invite Parrish. I’m sure we aren’t quite to a fire code violation yet,” Stiles snarked, shuffling uncomfortably and Derek huffed a hot breath in his face. “Hey, puppy breath, if you don’t get some of these blankets off, I’m going to catch on fire!”

It didn’t seem to disturb the pile of sleepy werewolves. Stiles watched as Isaac reached up and pulled one of the blankets onto the floor. There were mumbled arguments of “get your own” and “you’re an ass” before what was likely Liam pulled a blanket off the bed for himself.

They must have heard the group bickering from downstairs because, soon enough, Lydia and Mason came up to Stiles' room to do research. Mason took the stack of books and their computers to the desk, not batting an eye when Lydia abandoned him for Stiles.

Lydia pressed a hand to Stiles' forehead and pursed her lips. He was definitely warm. It was anybody’s guess if it was because he was sick and healing or because of the eight personal space heaters packed into his room.

“It’s weird, right,” Scott asked Lydia in a sleep heavy voice and she nodded.

“I just don’t understand why we feel it…” Lydia hummed, standing up but still looking at Stiles.

“What’s weird? Feel what,” Stiles asked. It was never good when the brain trust was confused.

“Nobody called us to say you were home,” Kira said. “We all just… showed up. It was like something was pulling us to you…”

“Stiles,” Lydia pulled his attention. She started to say something but closed her lips tightly. “I don’t remember driving here.”

“Like when you find dead bodies ‘don’t remember driving here’ don’t remember,” Stiles asked and Lydia nodded. “Well I’m not dead and they’re all too warm to be dead.”

“I found the Nemeton page,” Mason said, walking over to the bed, still reading the Bestiary off the laptop. Lydia walked over to him to read it too.

Kira watched them and then looked back to Stiles. “Lydia was with Mason and me when she started on her way here,” she told him in a whisper, knowing Mason and Lydia were the only ones who didn’t hear. “It wasn’t exactly like when she finds bodies, more like when she found the Nemeton last time…”

“Is that why they’re looking for info about it,” Stiles asked.

Kira nodded, “and because of what Deaton said… Scott told Lydia what he remembered and Derek filled in the rest.” Kira took a deep breath and looked at Stiles. “When Lydia broke out of the trance and realized where she was… she started freaking out. She ran in and,” she chewed her lip, “it took both Scott and Jackson to keep her downstairs. They had to let her come up here and take your pulse just to be sure you were alive.”

Stiles frowned and looked at Lydia. “She was that worried?”

“She thought you’d died,” Kira said with a frown.

“God, it’s hot in here,” Mason huffed, handing the laptop over to Lydia. He took his jacket off and started towards the window.

“No! No! Don’t–” Liam yelled as Mason opened the window.

A swarm of fae tried to fly in. Thanks to the absurd number of mountain ash around the house– courtesy of Stiles– they couldn’t get in. The peaceful pile of sleepy werewolves was disrupted as Scott jumped out of the bed, knocking Kira onto the floor. Scott slammed the window shut and Mason looked at him, breathing heavily. Derek moved to look towards the commotion, giving Stiles the chance to sit up.

“What the Hell was that,” Scott asked.

From the other side of the room, Lydia sighed and started to explain, “those were–”

"The fae," Stiles mumbled.

She looked back at the laptop. “Long story short: Stiles absorbed the magic from the Nemeton and now he’s like crack to magical creatures,” Lydia told them. She gestured to Stiles, “Stiles is the Nemeton now so all the supernatural creatures are being drawn to him.”

Scott looked at Lydia with his patented I-don’t-understand-anything-you-just-said look. “But the Nemeton was never this bad.”

“The Nemeton didn’t have centuries worth of magic crammed into, what is it he said, one-hundred and forty-five pounds of pale skin and fragile bones,” Isaac pitched in. Liam must have hit him as it was quickly followed by, “Ouch! What the fuck, Liam?”

“Shut up,” Liam said.

Before they could get any further on the topic, all the Weres became aware of something the others didn’t know.

“Food’s here,” Liam yelled, jumping up and running out of the room.

Malia got up from her spot too and went after Liam. The second Malia was out the door, Isaac was in the space on the bed she’d left. Obviously they were all excited for food. As quickly as they were gone, Liam and Malia came back with food.

“What the fuck,” Malia complained, staring at Isaac.

“What,” Isaac said, feigning innocence.

“You stole my spot,” Malia told him, moving to stand at the edge of the bed.

“Move your meat, lose your seat,” Isaac shrugged, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“Oh, I’ll show you move your meat,” Malia retorted and snickers rolled through the room.

Malia grabbed Isaac’s scarf. Isaac grabbed her wrist and glared at her.

“If you rip it, I’ll kill you,” Isaac threatened.

“Bull. Shit,” Malia scoffed, pulling hard on the scarf in an attempt to move Isaac.

The sound of threads ripping made Isaac’s eyes go wide. She succeeded in moving him but, apparently, Malia didn’t expect that when he moved, he’d tackle her to the ground. The two hit the floor with a loud thump. They argued and bickered like children, smacking and grabbing at each other's hands. They finally seemed to be in a stalemate, glaring at each other.

Malia dug her claws into the back of his hands and Isaac yelped “fuck,” in surprise, faultering for just a second.

The second was enough for Malia to throw Isaac off and get to her feet. She looked at her spot triumphantly, only to see Liam in her spot and Kira eating her abandoned meal.

“Oh sorry, is this yours,” Kira asked jokingly and Isaac started laughing wildly.

“Serves you right,” Isaac said.

Kira smiled, sitting down next to Stiles, and ate the burger smugly, leaving her curly fries unprotected. Stiles took the opportunity and stole some of them. Kira turned to yell at whoever had stolen her food. She looked from Stiles to Derek and back. She gave an irritated huff and glared at Stiles.

“That’s a dangerous game you’re playing,” Scott muttered and Kira’s glare turned to him. “She gets very territorial about food.”

“Oh, I’m sorry that some of us had fast metabolisms,” Kira scoffed.

“Ya, like Stiles,” Liam pitched in around a mouth full of food.

“Oh god,” Malia groaned, rolling her eyes.

“Could you imagine how much Stiles would eat if he was a werewolf,” Scott remarked with a chuckle, coming back over to sit on the bed.

“Hey,” Stiles interjected, “I am right here, guys.”

“Alright ‘right-here’, eat up,” Sheriff said, tossing a bag of food at his son.

Parrish walked in with Sheriff Noah. Between the two of them they had enough food to feed the small army in Stiles' room. Everyone moved to be closer to get their food. Scott sat on the floor and leaned against Stiles' bedside table. Lydia was allowed space on the bed without a fight out of both fear and respect.

Sheriff stopped as he gave Scott his food. “What’s with the dog?”

The comment sent the room into a fit of laughter. Based on the way Derek’s ears set back and the fact that Stiles could somehow tell Derek’s eyebrows were furrowed even though they didn’t exist at the moment, he didn’t find it nearly as funny.

“That’s Derek,” Stiles said between laughter.

“Did Derek… Ya know what,” Noah held his hands up in defeat, “I don’t care. I don’t want to know.”

Parrish, who had come in with Sheriff Noah, was passing out the bags of food. When the last of the food was handed out, they all started to eat. The plan was to eat and then explain because there was a lot to unravel.

“If you guys learn anything from Deaton,” Liam asked, looking at Scott expectantly.

Scott nodded, swallowing his mouthful of food. “What happened with the Chupacabra and to you were defensive spells.” Scott looked at Stiles, “you said the magic had a buzzing feeling, right?” Stiles nodded and Scott started talking again. “Because Stiles has all that power– like Lydia said– it builds in a buzzing feeling. Deaton gave Stiles a book of spells that he can work on that will help get rid of that feeling and help him relax but he has to be careful not to overdo it. The important part is that the magic saved Stiles’ life. It’s what allowed him to fight the chupacabra off him.”

Stiles nodded, looking around the room. The buzzing was back, slowing building the longer he was awake. How often would this happen? How long before it became unbearable again? Stiles looked around, spotting the book on his bedside table. He looked at it and then at Ethan.

The werewolf seemed to get the point rather quickly and gave Stiles the book. He gave a thankful smile and opened the book. He looked through the book and found one of the lower protection spells. He mumbled the words, absently drawing the symbol. It wasn’t until the room went quiet and they looked at Stiles that he realized he was doing it.

“Sorry,” Stiles said, clearing his throat, "what were you saying?" He wasn’t sorry. The buzzing was fading and he felt better. He felt better.

Stiles rubbed his hand over Derek’s fur and slowly stopped. He’d drawn the symbol on Derek. What would that do? Would it do anything since Derek was a werewolf? Did it matter? He’d wanted to learn more so he could be of real help but what if he couldn’t? What if the spells wouldn’t work on the werewolves? Would they work on people or just objects? What if they didn’t stay long enough to be any good? What good was he? He’d almost gotten killed in the last fight! He hurt Liam because he couldn’t control the magic that saved his life! He was useless and dangerous. He hurt people.

Derek nosed at Stiles arm and pulled him from his thoughts. Stiles looked down at Derek and felt how fast his breathing had gotten. The buzzing, fuck, it was coming back in full force. Stiles forced himself to slow his breathing. He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall behind his bed.

Oh, this was going to be a pain in his ass.

[aylish91]

I don’t know if you’ve answered an ask like this before, so sorry if you have, but what does your writing process look like? Is there a certain space you like to write in? A time? Music? Do you have an outline that you follow or do you write more according to your mood? Do you have to plan to write or do you jot things down as they come to your mind?

I’ve found that I need to like write out a bunch of garbage - like at least three chapter’s worth - and sit on it for a bit before I tear into it and rearrange it and I’m just wondering how writing looks for other people.

Thanks in advance, I really admire your writing and how lovely your descriptions always are :)

Thank you so much for the ask and for liking my writing!!! It really means a lot!

Brace yourself, it’s a bit of a long one. It’s got some peeks of things though~

~~~

I have two places that I like to write at the most: Shoved in the corner at the table with my laptop and in the corner at my computer desk on the desktop. (I like to have notebooks or paper around to write down random thoughts. Hehe.) Time of day usually doesn’t matter, just whenever I am not desperately busy.

Unfortunately, my brain gets distracted remarkably easily. I cannot have music on while I am writing, otherwise, I find myself unable to think about what I’m writing and only about the song. It also gets me sucked into YouTube or doomscrolling.

As for my writing process… It really depends on what I am doing or writing.

For example, a lot of the requests I have written have been “in the moment” type of things. I get an overall sense of what I want it to look like, start typing, and see where the words take me. These take a lot of, what I like to call, “daydream time”. The story stews and rolls around in my brain in bits and pieces until the right combinations make their way into one coherent piece. As you can imagine, the amount of time that takes varies. Sometimes I can crank it out after thinking about it, within a day or two. Sometimes what my mind wants doesn’t end up working in the document and it takes several chunks written, sliced, and completely redone before it starts to form properly. (All versions or thoughts I don’t want to forget or that I might still use, get put at the end of the document.)

*** A tip I have been implementing a lot more lately is: It is perfectly okay to start over. It could be a scene, an opening, or an entire document. Sometimes what you want, is not necessarily what it needs. If it’s not working, don’t force it. It never turns out to your “standards” and just ends up wasting a lot of your time. If you need to, work on the next part or something else until your mind settles enough to figure it out. ***

For other projects or WIPs, my imaginings fester long enough or hit hard enough that I write down everything I can about it so I will remember. It is all chaotic. More serious works get vague chapter outlines or fully paraphrased if I have more in-depth musings. My favorites even get background information for future chapters~ (There are even times I write a whole scene on paper.)

Now, keep in mind that I am all over the place and very disorganized. My notes can and have been done on random bits of paper, written in a document or notebook, or scribbled on anything I can physically get my hands on. Many a quote has been put on random doodle pages because I didn’t want it to disappear once my squirrel mind flitted away. Guardians of the Deep was paraphrased on an old stained paper on my nightstand/dresser at 3:00 in the morning because I refused to let the dreamed inspiration leave me…

With all the information I store, I eventually write based on the information and what the visions have left me. I only get about a chapter or one short done before I too am leaving it for a bit. Depending on how fast I want to get it out or how busy I am, it might be for several hours or a couple of days. I find that time helps me spot things that could be better, fixed, or that I have missed (After all, all first drafts are going to be a little bit awful and I still manage to miss stuff after the go throughs… Sigh. Hahaha!). It also helps get my mind out of it’s tunnel vision. After that, I simply try to edit the best I can and post.

It’s wonky and all over the place, but it seems to work for me.

[lavendercharm]

Linger, Chapter 3: STFU!

Summary: From the moment you meet her, you can't stand Melissa Schemmenti.

Warnings: VERY Strong Language

----

The next hour flies by as you continue your mission of organizing and decluttering the classroom. You organize stacks of finished worksheets and separate them between their respective grades; group crayons, markers, and pencils by color; and even refill Melissa’s stapler with your own staples, which you feel is generous. In between trips to the trash and recycling bins across the room, you occasionally glance at the half eaten lasagna sitting on your desk. You feel like it’s mocking you, but you can’t bring yourself to throw away one of the most delicious things you’ve ever eaten. Maybe once you’ve extended an olive branch, you’ll be able to enjoy it again.

By the time Melissa returns, you’re nearly done. She finds you surrounded by piles of dead dry-erase markers and empty glue sticks. You’re so invested, you don’t notice her entering the room until her voice startles you, nearly causing you to drop the markers in your hand. 

“What the hell are you doin’?” She demands. 

You try to muster a friendly smile as you turn around, but you’re certain it looks as forced as it feels. You’re surprised to see her alone. “You don’t have the kids with you,” you point out lamely.

“Educator of the year over here with these observational skills,” she snarks. “Other teachers have recess duty. What the hell are you doin’ with my markers?” 

You glance down at the markers clutched in your hand and say, “Oh, I uh… I noticed the room was messy when the kids left, and the cupboards were kind of cluttered, so I was going through them.“

“What, my room isn’t pristine enough for you?” she asks mockingly, folding her arms and leaning on one hip.

You close your eyes briefly and remind yourself that you’re trying to fix things, not make them worse, before opening them again and replying evenly, “No, I just mean that it makes sense with how much you have on your plate-“

“So you’re sayin’ I’m messy and incapable of doing my job?” 

“Stop!” You interject quickly, putting up your hands to placate her. “I’m not trying to insult you! I just wanted to help. A bunch of this stuff was broken or unusable, it was just taking up space so I threw some stuff out-”

“You what?” Her voice has a sharp edge to it. Your hopes for gaining ground with her are out the window - it seems like Melissa is looking for any reason she can find to start a fight with you. 

“I threw some things away,” you manage, your own temper starting to rise. “I don’t see what you’re getting so worked up about.”

She steps toward you, pointing a finger assertively. “You took it upon yourself to go through my classroom supplies and throw things away without asking me. Do you have any idea how expensive new school supplies are?”

“This isn’t my first year in a classroom!” you protest.

“Well, I don’t know what fancy private schools you must have come from to think supplies grow on trees, but it’s your first day at Abbott. We can’t just turn around and buy new stuff whenever we want!” 

“That stuff wasn’t usable! It was junk!” You exclaim. 

“And how will I explain to my kids why half their school supplies are gone now? How entitled can someone be?” she says scathingly.

“God, what’s wrong with you that you call someone trying to help you entitled ,” you spit out. You hear her scoff as you turn your back on her and start gathering the piles of dead markers. You throw them, along with the empty glue sticks, into a container.

“Oh please! What else do you call someone who thinks they can do whatever they want? Goin’ through my stuff without askin’, not to mention strollin’ in late-”

“It was an accident!” You burst out, rounding on her. “God forbid I mess up!”  You bark out a scornful laugh. “You say I’m entitled, have you met yourself ? You think you can walk all over me just because I’m new here and I made a mistake! Hey, since we’re sharing, you’re the most stubborn goddamn woman I’ve ever met! You can’t go two seconds without criticizing something or giving your unwanted opinion. Have you ever thought about taping your big mouth shut?” You deride as you snatch up the bin under one arm and begin to stalk past her toward the trash.

She steps into your path and you nearly collide with her. You look up to meet her fiery gaze, refusing to back down, and as you do, something stirs in your lower belly. You feel your muscles tense, ready for… what, you’re not sure. Her heeled boots give her a fraction of a height advantage over you, so you have to look up slightly. Your faces are inches apart as she stares daggers into your eyes, both of your breaths heavy from frustration and mixing in the air. Her cheeks are flushed and her hazel-green eyes are vivid, and your eyes flit down to steal a glance at her rosy lips for the briefest of moments, before you wrench them back up to her gaze. As your eyes return to hers, she opens her mouth to speak, but something catches her eye, cutting whatever she was going to say short. 

Her brows come together in confusion as she tears her eyes from yours and your heart sinks to your stomach. She saw your gaze drift, she had to have noticed it and that’s why she looks so confused. You’re not sure how to explain it yourself - your eyes were simply wondering, your nerves are frayed, you aren’t in the right headspace. Her face grows even more red, and you brace yourself to be verbally eviscerated as her mouth opens once more. What comes out takes you so off guard that you momentarily forget yourself and the situation you’re in.

“Where did you get that?” she whispers coldly. Her gaze is fixed over your shoulder. 

“Wha- what?” You stutter out, blinking quickly to try and comprehend the sudden, unrelated question.

Her eyes return to you, and you see a fury unmatched by anything she had displayed so far. It’s the first moment you know, without a doubt, that Melissa Schemmenti is someone you should be scared of. She repeats her question in a deadly low voice, biting out the words harshly. “Where. Did. You. Get. That?” Out of your peripheral vision, you see her point to something behind you.

Mustering all of the courage in your body, you look away from the lion that has your head in its jaws and search for what has condemned you to your untimely death. Sitting on your desk, alone and forgotten, is the half eaten slice of lasagna Janine had brought you for lunch. It takes your brain a moment to parse out why Melissa is so infuriated, but you quickly realize what conclusion she’s jumped to.

“Melissa-” you meekly squeak out before the dam breaks and her wrath is unleashed on you in full.

“Keep my first name out of your fuckin’ mouth you self-absorbed rat,” she snarls. “I knew you were selfish and inconsiderate, but I didn’t peg you for a thief. Stealing lunches? How dare you? ” She’s positively foaming at the mouth, and every ounce of anger that made you bold is gone. In its place is a gut-wrenching panic. You feel your heart hammering against your rib-cage and she continues to tear into you. “I knew I didn’t like you for a reason. You waltz in here on your high horse and think you can just do whatever you want. News flash puttana, Abbott doesn’t need you and I certainly don’t need you. You’re not worth the air you’ve been takin’ up in here. All you’ve done is ruin my goddamn day,” she seethes, pausing briefly before exclaiming, “And you’ve got me using salty language at school! The best thing youse could ever hope to do for these kids and me? Get the hell out of my classroom.”

You’re absolutely mortified, the words you’d meant to use to defend yourself evading you. You know it doesn’t matter - nothing you say will convince her. You wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole. You dig deep within yourself, trying to grasp some semblance of dignity as you finally break free of her hateful glare. “Fine,” you muster. You back away from her and move to your desk, quickly gathering your meager belongings and shoving them back into your bag. You keep as much distance from the lasagna as you can, too beaten down to even acknowledge its presence. 

Once your things are gathered, you make your way towards the door. But some thought in the back of your mind gives you pause. You don’t want to go out like this, with your tail between your legs. You don’t want to let this vitriolic woman have the final say. Glancing up, you see Melissa has busied herself with something at her desk, having apparently already written you off. Hesitating, you steel yourself and say, “You know? I’m not so sure your aide has appendicitis. I bet it was an excuse so she didn’t have to work with a judgemental bitch like you.” 

Her head shoots up in a flash of red - you hear an intake of breath and catch sight of her mouth opening - but you’re in the hallway before she can respond, slamming her classroom door a little too hard behind you.

—--------------

“What the hell do you mean you got into a fight with Melissa!?” Ava exclaims across from her desk at you. You sit on the other side of her, feeling more like a student being disciplined than a grown professional reporting to their boss. When you’d arrived, Ava had made you wait outside of her office while she finished an episode of “FBoy Island”. This gave you more than enough time to process what had happened, and the shame nearly overwhelmed you. Never in your life had you lashed out at a colleague like that, especially after having known them for less than 24 hours. 

Expecting to be scolded and fired, you’re surprised when Ava’s next words are, “You could have at least called me girl! My fans would kill to see Melissa in a fight! Although I guess she’s not good like she says, ‘cause you ain’t got a scratch on you. I’m disappointed she didn’t break out her bat,” she mumbles dejectedly. 

You don’t even know where to begin responding to that, so you settle on, “We didn’t fight fight, just said some really nasty things to each other. Also, I don’t have your phone number, so… I actually couldn’t call you.” 

“Oh!” Ava says as if she’s surprised. “Well, we gotta fix that, give me your number so you can tell me next time!”

“There’s not going to be a next time,” you mutter sourly.

“Oh damn, are you quitting?” she replies in a disappointed voice. “You seemed kinda cool standing up to Melissa this morning, I thought for sure you’d last longer than a day.”

You raise your eyebrows in surprise. “Uh, no… I mean, I don’t want to quit… well, I kind of do, but then she’d win,” you grumble. “I just thought you’d… I mean, I got into a huge fight with one of Abbott’s most tenured teachers. I thought for sure you’d want to fire me.”

“Fire you?” Ava says incredulously. “This is the most excitement this place has seen in a minute. If you stick around, we could start a teacher fight club!” She shoots you an award winning smile and you can’t help the quirk of your lips at her joke. At least, you think it’s a joke… probably. Ava leans forward, putting on her principal voice as she says, “Look, you’re the first sub we’ve been able to get since the school year started. On top of that, your references and work history make it seem like you’re actually a good teacher.” You give her an incredulous look, because everything you’ve learned about Ava doesn’t point to her ever actually doing her job.

“What?” she says defensively. “I do my research! I’m not gonna let just anybody walk on in here! I don’t need another stalker.” Before you can say anything to that, she barges on. “Listen, you can do whatever you want, but I’m not gonna fire you. Abbott needs you.” Her words, a direct opposition to what Melissa had said to you not even two hours before, warm your heart. You feel tears welling in your eyes, unable to hold them off completely no matter how much you try.

“Ew, don’t start crying,” Ava says, wrinkling her face up. “Or else I will fire you.” 

You can’t help the laugh that bursts out of you, and you catch a self-satisfied smirk on Ava’s face.

“Okay,” you say, wiping your eyes with a smile. “I’ll stay. I’m sure I can avoid Melissa as long as you put me on the opposite end of the school.” 

Your smile drops, though, as Ava says, “Girl, you’re still gonna be in Melissa’s class.” 

“What?” you ask, anxiety beginning to creep into your chest. “Can’t you put me in another room?” 

“Sure, there might be other rooms you could help in, but right now the only person out sick is Ashley,” Ava says flippantly. “And Melissa’s class has the biggest need for a sub, seeing as she’s teaching two grades n’ all.” 

“There has to be something else I can do,” you mutter desperately. 

“Right now, your options are to stick with Melissa’s class, or wait until someone’s out sick. But there’s no guarantee teachers will call out and I dunno about you, but I have bills to pay,” she explains dismissively, and you know the conversation is nearing its end as she turns her attention to her phone. 

You sit there and weigh your options. The last thing you want to do is have to return to Melissa’s classroom and face her again. As much as the kids in her class started to grow on you after just a few hours, this was the worst day you’d had in your entire professional career. And it was entirely due to Melissa Schemmenti. Plus, there was no telling how she’d react to you walking back into her room. Still, Ava had a point: if you weren’t subbing, you weren’t being paid. Your money situation was pretty dire. You needed this job. 

You exhale loudly, before uttering, “Okay. I’ll be back to join Melissa’s class tomorrow. On time,” you add hastily.

“Great!” Ava says, shooting you a smile over the top of her phone. You glance at the clock, seeing it was already nearly the end of the school day, so you wouldn’t be missing much by leaving a bit early. As you get up to leave, Ava says, “Wait!”

You stop in your tracks and turn to her expectantly. 

“Lemme give you my phone number so I can live stream when you and Melissa fight again!”

You roll your eyes in annoyance, and add her to your contacts.

—----------------------

When you make your way out to your car, you feel the weight of the day fully settle on your shoulders. ‘What a mess,’ you think to yourself. Even still, you try to find some resolve. You’re going to need it if you plan to weather Hurricane Schemmenti. 

You come up to your car, which is parked in one of the few visitor’s spots. Your head is down while you dig in your bag for your keys. As you step in front of your car, you feel something crunch beneath your shoe. Frowning, you shift your focus to the pavement. Small, clear granules shimmer in the afternoon sunlight. As you examine more, you see larger shards scattered about. Your jaw clenches as your eyes travel up, up… to the headlights on your car, both of which have been smashed out. 

You stare at the destruction before you, and slowly, a dark feeling starts to fill you. Your pulse pounds in your ears as your teeth grind together, and you start to see red in the corners of your vision. You clutch your keys in a vice grip. You want to hit something, or someone. Of course, you don’t have any proof as to who did this. But you know. And as the dark feeling inside of you grows and grows, you’re already beginning to formulate your revenge. 

‘Okay Schemmenti.  This is war.’

[lilac-5ky]

Roommates from Hell, pt.4 (Toji x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 4: Jungle Schlong

Chapter 3 | Chapter 5 | Story Masterlist | Masterlist | Requests

A/N: Commentary at the end because I think I'm funny.

Warning: Without spoiling a thing: porn, IKEA and angst.

Out of the many survival skills people who live alone develop during their self-imposed period of solitude, the ability to share a flat —and by extension, its features— is not among them. For example, while you knew exactly how many sips it takes to empty the milk bottle, you didn’t account for Toji’s intake being twice your own. It took multiple shakes and peeps through the hole for you to reach the shocking conclusion that you were indeed out of milk and hurried to announce it with pompousness second only to an anchorwoman’s.

Breaking news! Manslaughter at the center of Shibuya: 18 dead and 37 missing— and Y/N’s fridge is devoid of milk! Well, not exactly phrased like that, though Toji’s reaction rivaled that of a disinterested viewer’s zapping to the next channel.

Apathy. And it suited him so well; speckles of fury shimmering in his darkened eyes like residues of a stubbed cigarette whenever they happened to cross with yours. You preferred him when he lashed out. At least then you could lock horns and get it out of your system, but he’d been the same since last night. Cold-shouldering your every inquisition, and if an answer was required, then it was curt and gruff like the rest of him.

The only thing his stoic expression eagerly rubbed in was how he didn’t give a damn whether you had an ounce of milk to drench your already-poured cereal with, a place to sit and eat, or even warm water to shower with. And normally, he’d be out the door searching for the next woman (read: victim) to leech from, but today he valued his word. He’d take you shopping and use it against you for some extra petty points whenever he decided to throw his tantrum.

The drive wasn’t any more enjoyable than breakfast. Your attempt to turn on the radio was slapped away, while your dissing a woman who’d stopped the entire traffic to fix her eyeliner in the rear-view mirror of her shit-colored Datsun fell on deaf ears. That one hurt the most. Humoring idiots together was your thing.

Traitor. Although you both knew who the real traitor was, and that was why you willfully took the punishment, biting back any back-handed comment and half-assed apology your tongue mustered. Not that he’d accept one in verbal form anyway; oral was more like it.

You kept your mouth zipped until he pulled over at IKEA’s parking lot, his hands glued to the wheel and the gear lever even after you’d stepped out of the vehicle.

“Aren’t you coming?” You questioned and he finally spared you a look that was more mischievous than contemptuous, a smirk trembling at the end of his scar.

“Said I’d drive ya, not that I’d stick around.” His left hand jerked the gear downward. “You pay for what you get. If you want my services, better pay upfront.”

Your bag’s straps creased under your fingernails. This was where you drew the line.

“We came here to get furniture for your ass to fit in, and you tell me you wanna bail?”

“Missed the part where I said I needed shit,” Toji shrugged. “Your house, your rules, right? Your furniture, too. Don’t involve me.”

Your nostrils flared in response. “Fine! I’ll do it myself, don’t need your sulking ass raining on my parade. Pretty sure they sell dog houses your size, and—” You switched to yelling as he stepped on the pedal, “forget about gas money ‘cause you ain’t getting shit, you hear me? Hope you get a flat tire and lose your way, fucking—”

And just like that, he was gone. Fuck. And you’d just ridiculed yourself in front of every onlooker that involuntarily eavesdropped on your crude spiel without witnessing the full scene of your unjust abandonment. Even bigger fuck.

You lowered your head and dragged your feet toward the store’s revolving door, where a little girl who’d made a game out of the doors bestowed you a genuine smile— of sympathy, you hoped.

Since Toji lacked the courtesy to let you use the bathroom before towing you all the way to his car, you were still in your homewear, tan sweatpants and all. “Disheveled” didn’t even begin to describe the frantic state of your hair. The person inside the glass had the deranged appeal of someone who’d jumped into a hornet’s nest with some seriously angry wasps, each strand attached pointing in a different direction.

However, credit where credit’s due. You’d done well to bring your trusty shades. They hid both your dark circles and bloodshot-from-all-the-crying eyes while giving off some of that washed-out rock star air you desperately needed to feel somewhat human.

You pulled the hoodie over your head and fastened the knot below your chin. You gave your door-riding companion a practiced smile and asked if her parents knew her whereabouts, like the exemplary adult you were.

She pointed at a couple near the gift-wrapping section. Her spitting image in high heels and a strict pencil skirt held onto a vase that a scrawny man in a duffle jacket—the father, you assumed— helped wrap in decorative paper. A bit late for Christmas gifts, isn’t it? Neither seemed to worry that their little angel was talking to a stranger, so you took it upon yourself to warn her, tucking a golden curl behind her ear and ushering her to their side.

As expected of a preschooler, she grimaced in defiance and tried to extort you from a soft serve, but ultimately agreed to lock pinkies and promised to return after one final ride.

The doors aligned, and you stepped out, walking slowly enough to watch the girl be scooped into her dad’s embrace, her tiny arms looping around his neck while he pressed a kiss on her forehead. Her mom set the vase on the counter to rub her back, a goofy smile contorting her otherwise sharp features.

Sorrow withered like a flower of decay in your heart, the display turning into thorns the longer you perceived it. Not now. Not again.

You tore your eyes away and headed further in, beelining straight to the supply rack by the escalator. You grabbed a yellow tote bag and stuffed it with the usual suspects —a map of the store, a paper measuring tape, a couple of shopping forms, and a miniature pencil— before drifting to the second floor.

The first area of the tremendously vast showroom displayed everything from 4-seat sofas with installed chaise lounges to hand-woven rattan footstools and miscellaneous decorative pieces such as faux antler horns and brazen candlesticks. Every living room was carefully considered and well put together, attracting the appropriate demographics.

Frilled cushions and fairy lights for the young romantics; futuristic ceiling lamps in curious shapes and slick TV benches for a breath of novelty in your space; functionality over flashiness in rooms with spacious cabinets and railway-sized couches to accommodate those who couldn’t keep it in their pants and birthed a horde of happy-go-lucky squirts; warm textiles for a cozy atmosphere; cooler hues for a more urban style. A plethora of choices meant to daze and bedazzle the stingiest shopper into buying not what they needed but what they wanted at an affordable price.

A true celebration of capitalism.

You paced around the rooms, mindlessly picking on random objects and price tags, working quick math in your brain for items that would be forgotten as soon as you entered the next scenery of artificial palm trees and sand-filled wooden tiki bowls. Perfect for beach lovers, the sign said, though you couldn’t fathom the tackiness of a man with a hammock amidst his living room.

Unable to beat your childish urge to ascertain whether the sand was real, you dipped your hand in one of the bowls and glanced over your shoulder just in case you were busted—you weren’t. And it wasn’t.

Your interest was extinguished, only to be rekindled by the golden sheen of a picture frame that stood remarkably plain between two spiral seashells on a wall-mounted shelf behind the aforementioned hammock. Normally, frames either sported an image of some stupid logo that wrote “Love” or “Happiness”, or encased a placeholder picture for the owners to replace at a later date. But this one was vacant. Naked. Forgotten.

You didn’t have any frames in your house. Didn’t need any. All remnants of the past were safely tucked inside an old shoe box below your bed —memories you occasionally fished out but mostly wished to forget. All, except one. A token from your graduation that you always kept inside your bag as precious memorabilia, not of the event itself but of the man whose arm lazily slung over your shoulders and of the smile that stretched from the western tip of his scar to the eastern end of your grin.

You’d rather be mugged off every worldly possession, even your mother’s handwritten cookbooks, than part ways with this picture. That’s why you never let it off your eyes and never properly framed it, though looking at the empty frame, something finally clicked.

You pulled out the picture and unscrewed the safety clips, fitting it around the edges, and then locked it in place.

Your thumb brushed over Toji’s face as gently as if it were his actual cheek you touched, and last night’s fiasco began accelerating with the momentum of a three-foot boulder that wrecked everything in its passage. Frustration stirred your insides, urging the coarse cereal to spill out your guts and paint the baby-blue mat a dubious streak of remorse. You wondered what color that’d be. Nothing pleasant to look at, for sure.

With a sigh, you brought the picture closer to your lips and whispered, “I’ll say this once and only once, so better stop giving me that smug look. I’m sor—”

“That bored without me you talk to lifeless objects now?”

The gravelly voice flowing not from the frame but from the person behind you made you nearly knock the entire shelf to the ground. This habit of his was getting old real quick.

“Is scaring people your hobby, or do you get paid for it?” You leered at him, slyly stuffing the frame in your tote bag, confident he hadn’t gotten a proper peek.

“If only,” Toji smirked. “Could make a fortune out of you alone.”

You rolled your eyes and crossed the tote bag over your free shoulder, progressively scanning the parts of his body you didn’t want to slot a pacifier in. He was holding onto a paper cup, the keyword being “a” as in singular and not plural. As in one, and not two. As in, he got fresh coffee from the machine at the entrance for himself, but not for you.

Jerk.

“Couldn’t keep a dime if it was glued to your forehead with super glue,” you huffed.

His free hand reached your face, fiddling with the laces of your hoodie. “Kept you all these years, didn’t I?” voice dropped an octave. “My goldmine.”

You couldn’t tell if he was being flirty or simply condescending; his thin eyebrows bearing hints of annoyance in how they furrowed, as opposed to the curl in his lips that almost seemed amiable. You didn’t reciprocate either sentiment. Instead, “Thought you said you weren’t coming.”

“Changed my mind,” his eyelashes fluttered heavily over his cheeks. “Didn’t want to leave you all alone to carry that shit. Wouldn’t sit right with me.”

You questioned whether the Toji in front of you was the real deal or a stand-in for his otherwise “no can do unless I’m paid” self. Unless…

“You ran out of gas, didn’t you?”

The smile dropped from his face and rose to yours as he took a step back, his tail between his legs. He drained the coffee in one sip and squashed the cup in his fist, flicking it at the bin closest to him without caring that it was part of the exhibit.

The words swirled in his mouth, bitter, and taut, and doused in caffeine. “You have my money.”

“My money,” you corrected. “You said I could keep it.”

“I did?” Toji asked, confirming it a second later. “I suppose I did. I take it back. Give it back.”

His palm unfolded in your direction, fingers beckoning you to react, which you did, though not in the way he’d hoped.

“What do you think y’are doing?” Jaded green eyes entered a game of ping pong between the items you’d shoved in his hand and your undeniably cheeky expression.

“You are so right. I’m bored out of my mind when you’re not around, but now that you are here, I feel sooo much better!”

Toji arched a brow at your admission, not convinced in the slightest.

“I’ll give you some of the money back,” and this was the kind of sentence that seldom went without a but. “But you have to stay and help.”

His mouth opened to express disagreement, which soon turned into acquiescence.

“I’ll buy you soft serve after.”

“Deal.”

The two of you wandered around the labyrinth of lamps and sofas with a different gait each; yours were quick steps full of determination and moderate excitement, stamping individual items and running after them, while Toji’s were long-drawn strides with no real purpose other than to follow the thread you dropped behind in hopes of it leading to an exit. You presented one object after the other, weighing the pros and cons he didn’t care to consider, merely jotting down the unpronounceable Swedish names and their corresponding codes.

Unsurprisingly, he didn’t have much of an opinion regarding his lodgings. He claimed he could sleep anywhere but was visibly vexed when you pointed at an adorable bone-shaped dog bed, gritting his teeth and saying that your bed could fit you both just fine if you weren’t such a “little bitch” about it.

Only when you got to the rooms with very particular and niche equipment did his disinterest fade, giving way to disbelief at how anyone could ever think to create something as useless as an egg yolk separator or vegetable cutting gadgets that a single knife could easily replace. He wasn’t wrong about that, but he was dead wrong to assume you were letting him bring a Cookie Monster-esque atrocity of dyed sheepskin back into the apartment. Or a portable charcoal grill for that matter. Or a bike trailer when you couldn’t even bike.

“Are ya dumb? Biking isn’t knowing, it’s doin’,” he’d said.

A side-eye was typically enough for him to return them to their places, but when it came down to his peak fascination with a voice-activated toilet flush, things got excruciatingly hard. He insisted on calling it a worthwhile investment when he’d previously dubbed your portable drawer unit a waste of cash. If it weren’t for the three extra zeroes at the end of its crumpled price tag, he would still be there tossing rocks just to hear the toilet praise the size of his dung.

You each made an exception for the other to buy one non-pivotal item, as long as it didn’t exceed 3000 yen. He got himself a neck pillow. You got a ghost night light that apparently looked nothing like curses, much to your disappointment, and while his attention was diverted, you shoved another in the bag to give him as a welcoming gift, hoping the cuteness of the green, chubby ghost would help bury the hatchet.

Eventually, you plopped down at a dining table in a room obscured by the shop’s many corners, Toji on the head and you on the foot, as if you were holding an official conference. You went over the shopping forms together, but coming to a decision when neither was remotely capable of pronouncing the names proved a challenge. And while each butchered the language in your own irreverent way, you were the first to break into chuckles, finding Toji’s heartfelt conviction that Frihetten and Fry Hatred were one and the same positively endearing.

Flustered, he threatened to break your bones into furniture, but not even he could take himself seriously anymore when his answer to the question “What would you name me?” was “The Stupenbraten”.

The mood lightened, and after some necessary discourse, you decided upon a gray sleeper sofa to replace your current couch and a chair from the same set you had in your kitchen, as well as some covers for the remaining winter nights. All was well again; aside from the total cost exceeding the initial budget by a few hundred yen.

You were back to square one, though a new plan became apparent faster than anticipated. A plan wearing twin pigtails and a smile straight out of a toothpaste commercial that resiliently lurked wherever the two of you went. A plan who fidgeted with the name tag on the left side of her canary-colored shirt a bit too much, her knees wobbly under her tight-fitted navy jeans. A plan too naive for her own good.

At first, you assumed she’d received a report for the terrorist-looking female in the orange hoodie who double-checked the price of each individual plate in the service, but then you put more effort into deciphering her alert eyes and concluded that the target she was ogling was none other than your partner in crime.

He who, although dressed identically to you, stood out among the regular customers like a celebrity that’d failed to mingle with the crowd at their own premiere, a dandelion among a field of dried weeds, or even a conch amidst a sea of pebbles; out of place and infinitely extraordinary; easy to miss and hard to notice, but when you do, there’s no taking your eyes off it.

The employee tracked you down as if her career depended on it, infatuated with the mere idea that a man like Toji could give her attention, and when he actually did under your direction, the plot began writing itself:

Straight out of a Wong Kar-wai movie, the dark and brooding, albeit confident, male lead slowly enters the hesitant female lead’s orbit. He hangs around the information desk, where she pretends to work, and flips through the pamphlets with faux interest. He lets her study him up close and plants an idea in her head, convincing her the first move is hers to make—that she’s in charge.

Her head lifts up, and their furtive glances catch fire. He bows forward, and his lips move without making a sound, a joke only for her ears to assess. And it must be terribly funny because she is laughing, and with her, the whole world beams, with sequences of time-elapsed blurs and filtered close-ups spurring everyone into the mood for love.

That’s a true pro for you.

You stayed until you saw them exchange papers. It’d only been five minutes, and they were already plotting their next tryst away from the prying eyes of the audience and the mastermind behind their affair. Admittedly, this was neither your best nor proudest moment, but if conning an impressionable sweetheart out of a minor discount was your ticket to hell, then you’d better go ahead and save yourselves front-row seats.

For the time being, you left Toji to his own devices and leisurely padded along the corridors, finding yourself a sanctuary in a room where the sounds muffled into ambient sound and the colors bled into shades of chaste white that dribbled from the ceiling to the king-sized bed in the middle. You dropped your bags on the bed stool and fell back against the polyester duvet, limbs stretching across all four corners to create idle snow angels.

You glimpsed at the price that neared half a million yen and wondered what kind of people could afford a bed like this. Was it old money who lived in luxurious mansions with fourteen bedrooms and twice as many servants to tend to them, or a young couple with too much love to spare? Did it belong to a loft that overlooked the city, or was its place on the outskirts of the countryside? How many surprise breakfasts could it host, and how many kids could bounce against the planks to wake up their weary parents before the springs broke?

Could a bed like this ever be yours?

“People who fuck for a living, obviously.”

Rings of saturated smoke poured out of Toji’s lips as he lit up his cigarette and took his first real puff of disappointment. He’d hoped that after popping two and a half bottles of overpriced carbonated piss, smoking ought to at least rouse a tingle, but he’d only managed to further soil his mouth with more filth.

“Want that?” he asked, despite stubbing it in the ashtray. With the amount of alcohol you’d downed, you’d probably let him put it out on your tongue without objection.

You tracked the movements of his fingers, inevitably following them to where the dark spirals of his hotel-provided yukata met with the creamy complexion of his sculpted thighs, elbow propped against his one knee, and wrist dangling freely in the gap between his legs. He was still on his back, his tousled raven hair having spilled over the pillow, and the ebony fabric fitting tight around the bulge of muscles, leaving only his pecs completely exposed.

A sight for sore eyes and those with the hunger to eat it up, while you tried your hardest not to gawk, directing your attention anywhere that wasn’t him, such as the baroque chandelier on the ceiling, the plasma screen on the opposing wall, the leftover beluga caviar and Dom Pérignon on the service trolley, or even your own legs dressed in the same piece of clothing.

The two of you painted quite a sinful image: a girl barely of age and a boy slightly above sharing a bed the size of your house at one of the country’s top-rated hotels, your clothes scattered around the floor like some perverse artistic signature. How cliche, but every cliche comes with an “It’s not what it looks like”.

You received the message on your beeper a few blocks away from school at an unoccupied payphone; Toji’s voice requesting help on the other side of the line. He didn’t specify anything other than his location and seemed particularly elated to find you at his suite’s doorstep fifteen minutes later with your heart in your mouth. At that point, he’d already jumped in his yukata, sporting a pair of fluffy gray slippers and a sardonic smile that widened at the sight of your summer uniform.

Alcohol blurred your memories quite a bit. You couldn’t remember why you’d changed out of your uniform, but were certain it had something to do with his indecent commentary. Not that the yukata covered more skin, but it did feel smooth against your body.

You quickly realized that Toji was neither in danger nor in dire need of help. He’d just received his biggest paycheck to date and wanted someone to burn the money with, and as much as he hesitated to admit it, your phone was the only number engraved in his memory outside his handler’s.

In retrospect, your evening felt more like a fever dream than a real one. You ordered every exorbitant French specialty off the menu, drank through the contents of the minibar, and flipped through the various cable channels, paying thousands of yen for movies you lacked the attention span to finish.

You were so out of it. You dismissed the crude answer he’d given to your question for the sake of recounting events that hadn’t aged past six hours.

A subtle hue of red bloomed across your cheeks, dipping lower down your chest to sheathe in the pit of your stomach as liquid fire. The feeling itself wasn’t unpleasant; simply unprecedented. This was your first time drinking, and in all honesty, you could do fine without being reminded every three seconds —the exact interval between your glances— of how well he wore the traditional attire.

“So it wasn’t just an urban legend, huh?” Toji mumbled to himself, fumbling with the buttons on the remote until he landed on a channel that piqued his interest.

“Hey, wanna watch some porn?” The second question was definitely meant for you, his hand ghosting over your eyes as if to snap you from whatever trance had absorbed your conscience.

You blinked in surprise, eyes dancing between the numerous naked ladies that flaunted their assets in provocative stances and Toji’s serious expression while he eagerly awaited a response.

“Uhm… sure?” You asked him back, clearing your throat of any doubt, and then repeated the same word.

He gave a tiny smile and scrolled through ridiculous titles named after popular American movies, such as “Pulp Friction”, “Cum-busters”, “In Diana Jones”, and your personal favorite of the bunch, “Yank My Doodle, It’s a Dandy!”.

“Probably nothin’ too extreme, right?” You mindlessly nodded. “A’right, gotcha.”

While you stacked up the pillows behind your neck, Toji clicked a few more buttons, and eventually, a movie began playing, starting with a picket fence house in the suburbs and a jolly housewife who awaited something on the door. The “something” revealed itself to be a “someone”— a pizza guy, more specifically, on whose pizza both Toji and you placed bets.

“Pay up,” he grinned when the man announced it was a pepperoni one, only to grunt after the pizza box fell completely empty to the floor. A directorial oversight.

The man proceeded to make out with the housewife in front of her house’s doorway, backsteps bringing the scene into the kitchen, where the woman removed her apron to expose her —surprise, surprise— naked body underneath. She sat the man on a chair and kneeled before him, caressing the tent in his jeans and slowly tugging it down, she set his cock free.

A gulp disrupted your swallowing, your eyes zooming in as the woman’s hands wrapped around his dick and pumped it up and down with expertise his moans revealed. Your thighs clicked together in sync with your teeth, your mouth more parched than it’d been before you gobbled all that alcohol up.

Without being aware of it, you’d scooted closer to his side of the bed, almost curling against his arm. You stole a glimpse at him, his brow quirking at the sudden closeness. You pretended to watch the movie, and partially you did, although there was no ignoring Toji when your entire vision became that of uneven black strands.

“Are ya wet by any chance?” He smirked, eyes darting lower over your body, if only for a second.

“N-not sure, but I… really want to pee,” you admitted, causing his face to crack into a fond simper. “Been that way since the champagne—” you tried to explain, and you tried to hide your colored shame in the crook of your neck, but he wouldn’t let you do either.

“No need to be embarrassed,” Toji said in a reassuring voice that begged to filter all bashfulness out of your system. “Still a virgin, mm? Well, there are other adult stuff we could try together. Other than drinking champagne, or” his hand rubbed against your outer thigh, “watching amateurs fuck,” fingers carefully squeezing their way in. “I bet we could do so much better than that.”

“Whaddya say, pretty girl?”

The rasp in his voice mellowed into a candied hum as he tilted his head to the side, and when he did, you didn’t move— not because you didn’t want to, but because you didn’t know how to without your inexperience showing or your heart betraying how much you’d longed for this moment to come, as his lips finally crashed against yours and you suddenly gained all the knowledge in the world.

You knew how to squeeze your eyes shut slowly enough to catch his green eyes fading past his heavy eyelashes along with the intensity behind them. You knew exactly how to move your mouth in accordance with his, letting your upper lip be sucked into the kind of warmth that could never be replicated—a warmth that was unique to Toji and the softness of his lips and the roughness of his palms—and that gradually seeped into your stream, flooding and then drowning all your senses until he was the only lifeline for you to grab onto to stay afloat.

He flipped you to your back and crawled on top of you, the bed dipping against the accumulation of weight while the kiss deepened. His tongue slipped into the wet cavern of your mouth, taking its time to explore the basis of every snarky remark and withheld affection meant for him. A soft, visceral sound was swallowed by a stifled groan as your hands clutched onto the fabric around his waist and pulled him closer, your hips abruptly snapping upward.

You weren’t thinking until Toji gave you permission to, the string of saliva that united your mouths now tearing you apart. His tongue swiped over his dampened scar, hooded eyes zeroing in on the pink ribbon at the center of your bra’s band as the friction caused the cups to spill out of your kimono. The sounds in the background were barely audible over the sound of your panting as he took hold of your breast and firmly palmed it over the fabric.

“Feel any different now?” The hand on your thigh prodded at your stomach, even though he’d never stopped fondling your chest and still maintained a loose grip over your hip—

Oh.

You mustered enough courage to peer at where your bodies connected, finding a bulge akin to the one in the non-pizza-carrying pizza guy’s pants, albeit much bigger, more real, and definitely palpable, and although you were no busty hotwife, you’d made this happen.

Things were moving so fast; too fast, that your brain short-circuited between two contradictory notions, the first gathering as slick between your thighs, while the second argued this wasn’t something you should be doing—not something that friends should be doing.

But you liked Toji, and when he looked at you with raw desire burning in his eyes, you swore that you loved him.

“I really,” you croaked, rapidly losing composure under his fingertips unraveling your bare skin, his larger palm set on capturing as much of you as possible. “R-really,” you bit your lip before breaking into a literal yelp when he tried to tug off the strap. “Really, really, really need to pee!”

Without either of you entirely comprehending what happened, you slithered away from his grasp like an eel and bolted to the bathroom, locking yourself in with a loud “bam”, lest he push it open.

You looked in the mirror, confusing the image with that of a peeled tomato straight out of the can with how flushed and moist you appeared. Beads of sweat dripped from your forehead to your neck, and—God, his touch hardly qualified as groping, but nothing was in its place anymore; everything loose, disheveled, and so terribly lewd.

Reluctantly, you drove a hand between your thighs, coaxing a high-pitched gasp at the sheer amount of wetness drenching your underwear, an outcome entirely dependent on him. Toji. Toji, who’d given you your first kiss and who would have given you more— every last inch of him. Toji, who must’ve been laughing his ass off, cursing you, or doing both simultaneously.

Nothing could be done about the butterflies rummaging in your stomach, rabidly swarming your heart as if there were nectar at its core. You could only force yourself to sober up by throwing cold water on your face and carrying on with your “duties”, returning to the main room ten minutes after you’d perfected the most laid-back smile from your extensive collection of insincere expressions.

“Took ya long enough,” Toji exclaimed, a spoon sticking out of his mouth. “Thought you got flushed down the drain or somethin’.”

No such luck, you thought to yourself, sitting noticeably further away from where he dug through the remaining caviar. The porn was switched out, or paused—you couldn’t tell—with the hotel’s logo in cursive letters traversing one corner of the screen in favor of the other. And as for your previous reason for distress—

“Did you know they have Acqua Di Parma toiletries?” You panted more than asked, leaning closer to the tray to pinch a green olive between your fingers.

“It’s a French hotel, what did ya expect?” he shrugged.

“They are Italian.”

“Who cares?” He grimaced, dropping the spoon back into the crystal bowl. “Overpriced shit. Shoulda been 12 yen instead of 12k.”

“It’s an acquired taste,” you chuckled. “Plus, you are doing it all wrong. You shouldn’t chew, you should move the roe with your tongue until the flavor falls apart.”

Toji stared at you as if you belonged to an alien tribe that’d descended to earth on its way to world domination, his eyebrows creasing at the middle of his forehead. “Now you reveal you were raised as a silver spoon? Woulda been nicer to you if I knew.”

A short laugh cracked into a nasal snort, your hands cutting the air between you. “Not at all! It’s just, my father would make me tag along to some of his business soirees when I was a kid, and they always had the best food there. Well, not the best, but certainly the priciest shit an eight-year-old can put in their mouth.

“And what do you mean nicer?”

He hummed, washing the fishy taste from his mouth with some of his unfinished champagne. A regrettable choice, considering he’d forgotten how disgusting the alcohol felt on his tongue. He winced, “First time I hear ya talk about your family.”

“What? Can’t be true; I mention them all the time.”

“Mention,” he echoed. “Ain’t the same as talking.”

You wondered at what point your roles were reversed. He was the one who stubbornly refused to mention his folks, and up until a month ago, you didn’t even know what his last name was.

“There’s not much to talk about.” Your lips pursed around your glass while Toji insisted on drilling holes through your thick skull. He had no intention to drop this.

“I’ll tell you, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. It’s all boring, anyway. If you fall asleep—”

“Cut the intro.”

You bit back a comment and dug straight into the story.

“My dad started off in the textile industry. Used to run a small yarn company with a fellow classmate. They made it big for a while; branched out from Tokyo to Fukuoka and their rep grew nationally. Every clothing store in the country used their wares, and they must have thought ‘Hey, why not test our luck elsewhere?’— I wouldn’t know; I was too young.

“Thing is, when compared to Japan’s fish tank of a market, China is a whole damn ocean with man-eating sharks. Quality doesn’t cut it versus sweatshops, and it didn’t take long before they went bankrupt, closing their stores and losing all of their investments.

“Yamada-san flew to Korea, and they never talked again, while dad—he,” you paused, lifting the glass to your lips, champagne tasting like tar. “He drunk. All day long and all evening long, he drank himself unconscious on the couch, the carpet, and even the front door once. His excuse being that he couldn’t get himself a new job, that no one was hiring at the moment, and that damn moment lasted 5 whole years before he decided he’d had enough and slammed the door on us.”

“What about—”

“Mom?” You smiled habitually. “She was there. Down with one sickness or another, her symptoms varying from a simple cough to weeks of catatonia. It was as if whatever poison my father injected in his veins made it back to her, and with him gone and her in that state, I was the only one available to take care of the house. But it was fine, you know? As long as we were together, I was fine cleaning, cooking, and playing nurse.”

Silence stilled the room, somber at its best and deafening at its worst.

“Wanna know what the final straw that made him leave was?”

Toji didn’t answer, certain you’d go on regardless.

“Donburi.” A strained chuckle poured out of your lips; dark, hollow, and devoid of any ebullience. “Fucking donburi. She tried to cook him donburi for his birthday but couldn’t keep an eye on the stove ‘cause she got dizzy and the fish burned to a crisp. She served the rice and the vegetables, all intact, but the fish was missing and h-he… He broke the plate against the kotatsu and packed his things right after. That was the only time Mom talked back to him. She asked why, and you might think that’s pathetic, but—”

You rearranged your thoughts. “She asked him why, and all he said back was ‘Because she isn’t deadweight. Because she doesn’t smell like death. Because she doesn’t let the fish get toasted.’ That was the final thing he said the final time I saw him. Don’t even know if he’s dead or alive, and as for my mom… You know she’s not here anymore. Passed away three weeks after he bailed.

“And that’s my shitty life’s shitty story,” you concluded, consciously leaving out the part that linked your culinary cultivation and hopes for your father’s return.“Nothing interesting or fun about it. Just a big pile of shit piling on top of each other from the beginning to its ending.”

You were about to give yourself a refill when his fingers snared around your wrist. You locked eyes, your vision of him distorted as the green in his eyes overflew, his pointy nose, and the slanted scar of his lips trading places. He appeared like one of those Picasso cubism paintings from your art textbook, except his features were more beautiful than a human brain could ever perceive to draw, even in their disarray.

You let him return the champagne glass to the trolley while his fingers studied your face with the same curiosity your eyes studied his. You thought he was going to kiss you again, and maybe the notion crossed his mind too, but he must’ve decided against it, using his mouth to try and console you instead.

“Should’ve let me fuck you, stupid,” Toji mumbled, the pads of his thumbs repeatedly swiping below your eyes like windshields, his facial structure making sense once more. You’d lost track of how many sobs you’d kept bottled up until they started to hiccup out of your throat and wet his fingers.

I wish I’d let you fuck me.

“Lost your motivation?” Your voice was still unstable.

“Nah,” he shook his head. “Just don’t want your sappy face ruinin’ the mood. Can’t make ya cry under my dick if you’re already crying for someone else.”

Your reflection stirred in shades of green as you threw your head against his shoulder, laughing harder than you thought possible. He always came up with the worst things to say, and yet nothing could have comforted you more than the inner frustrations of a teenage boy in heat.

His hands dropped limp between your bodies, while yours looped his neck in a tight embrace. “Can’t believe you tricked me into sayin’ all that when I don’t know the first thing about your family.”

“Your folks are dead ‘cause they died. Mine been dead to me since birth.”

You propped your chin against your elbows. “What do you mean?”

“That I don’t have a family,” he said.

“You wouldn’t talk like that if you didn’t.”

“Then I don’t need one.”

“Don’t say that. If they’re still alive—”

“Then I’ll kill ‘em dead,” he hissed. “How’s that for an answer?”

Convinced that ought to shut you up, Toji planted his fingers at your ribs and attempted to detach you from his body with half-baked conviction, when your mouth opened again and you uttered the one thing he wasn’t prepared to hear—not on that day, nor in a million days either.

“What if I was your family?”

A complaint scratched his throat, his own words prickling his tongue before dissolving into a heavy sigh against his chest, one that served as your cue to continue.

“Even if we don’t need anyone—no, even if no one else needs us, how about we need each other just a little bit? I’ll need you, and you’ll need me. So let’s be family, Toji.”

He remained deep in his thoughts for a long while, unknowingly kneading your sides as if you were a life-sized stress ball meant to relieve his tension. You couldn’t read him. Not from that angle or any other, for that matter. He wouldn’t let you. He didn’t want you prying at a side of him so pathetically ugly and insecure that not even he had the guts to stand up to.

And so he took his time waiting, testing the waters with every combination of verbs and articles already tried out. Words that’d earned his face red smacks and gotten his hair soaked in all types of beverages—not excluding the hot kind. He’d fill you in on the terrible, horrible things he’d done to deserve hatred, give you a glimpse at the true nature of an abomination, as his parents endearingly called him, and if that wasn’t enough, he’d show you. Overpowering a fragile little thing was nothing. He’d force himself on you, squeeze you for all your body’s worth, and then toss you aside like a squeezed lemon cup.

It was that easy, really, but the longer he let the words fester, the keener he found himself to plug the holes in his ego with a more permanent solution.

“Y’are throwing yourself into a bigger pile of shit, know that?”

You held onto a chuckle, unaware of the effort poured into his statement, while you lightly toyed with the frayed edges of his hair. “Used to the stench. Besides, stepping on shit is said to bring you luck, no?”

By the time you pulled away, an intimidating frown was etched deep into his features, his expression similar to that of a cat being hugged against its will. It didn’t take long for the two of you to nest back into the pillows (with one acting as a partition), share a pepperoni pizza upon his request, and browse through the hotel’s porn archives anew—only this time, he’d given you the honor of choosing.

“The hell is a doodle?”

Your brain was still asleep when your eyes fluttered open, failing to identify the humongous white fluff that warmed your face until you peeled it off. Bear…? No, not just any bear. A panda bear, though that didn’t explain its origins or the reason it sat on your head either. You wondered if someone had tried to suffocate you only to give up halfway through, but when you nearly lost your eyesight to the blinding lights above, you appreciated the kindness in the proprietor’s heart.

You buried your face back into the plushie’s belly and rolled onto your side in a fetal position, the memory of your sunglasses too distant for you to question their sudden disappearance. For now, all you wanted was for the lights to go away and for the voice in the speaker to quit yapping—

As if a current charged your joints with electricity, you jolted against the bedpost, the realization of you enjoying a nap in a semi-public space coming with a heavy dose of panic once you spotted a pair of stretched legs to your left.

“Don’t like the jungle schlong?” The legs, or rather, the mouth that belonged to their owner asked.

A deep exhale jogged your memory of the furniture store and present-day Toji, his younger counterpart vanishing as an apparition of the past.

You flipped the toy around until you spotted the tag hanging from its right foot. Djungelskog.

“Very funny,” You exclaimed, shoving it against Toji’s face, who in turn threw it under his armpit. “How long was I out of it?”

“An hour, more or less. They wanted to call security but changed their minds after some Chinese couple bought the same bed,” he sneered. “Got such a cute sleeping expression when ya drool all over yourself.”

You scrubbed your jaw with the back of your hand, feeling the crisps of saliva deteriorate. What were the death rates for suicide by plush toy asphyxiation in Japan again?

“Y’are welcome,” he answered in case you felt like thanking him for saving you some face.

“So, how did it go with the salesgirl? Shagged her yet?”

Like a gravure model, Toji propped himself against the bed, tilting his cheek into his palm. “Jealous?”

You scoffed. “Hardly. Just wondering how long before you lose your touch now that you are nearing your thirties. Should find yourself a dutiful young wife to clean your denture before it’s too late, old man.”

He was uncharacteristically quiet until his hand dug into his pocket to reveal a rectangular blue note that he slid across the covers. “Not a chance, kiddo.”

You seized the paper, thrilled to see the words “10% off” spelled in yellow capital letters. “That’s actually impressive! How did you do it?”

“Trade secret,” he shrugged.

You decided you didn’t need to hear the rest. This was enough for both the furniture and his treat— maybe even groceries, if his mood remained unspoiled. “Just won yourself a second cone,” you beamed, wiggling your way across the edge of the bed. “Come, let’s get the stuff and go home.”

“I’ll go first,” Toji declared as he leaped to his feet.

“Don’t want your new girlfriend getting the wrong idea?” you smirked. “Fine, fine. I’ll meet you at the warehouse.”

Without confirming your assumption, he hastily strode off through the doorless entryway, leaving the bear plushie behind to endure your wrath for when you’d finally discover there were two sides to the coupon and the backside that read “Newlyweds Discount”—his name reaching his ears about five rooms later.

A/N: I have the need to mention that their IKEA date was inspired by 500 Days of Summer and that the toilet was a gag in Better Call Saul. In the Mood for Love is an amaaaaazing movie, that I definitely recommend for angst lovers! Also, all the porn movies I mentioned are LEGIT lmao, I wish I was joking. Oh, and this chapter features a lot of foreshadowing for the next one, guess what it is and enter the giveaway for a--- yeah, no. I'm joking, but the foreshadowing stands.

tags: @absoluteindulgence , @evansuvamp , @sarwhorius , @liluvtojineteyam , @whodoesthatanymore , @m00dycr4nkybitc , @tzutology , @lilykitt3 , @whispers-of-lilith , @batafuraikisu , @zerotwo-sciencequeen , @vel1ia , @allen-444

Just went ahead and tagged those of you who commented, hope I got everyone right.

Comment to be tagged on future updates!

[angelynmoon]

Eldritch Steve

Part 12

-

Steve makes a nest after Wayne talks to him, it's not something he's compelled to do, just something he wants.

He steals Robin's vests and her pillows, because they smell like her, anxiety and excitment, they smell like sister. He steals shirts from the children, all their left socks too, just because, the shirts smell like home and family, they smell like his, even with the undertones of betrayed and abandoned that Will, Jonathan, and El's clothes leave from Joyce.

Steve can tolerate it because there is also understanding and argument and acceptance in the trace that Hopper leaves on the cloth.

Argyle brings him blankets for the Wheeler home, where he and Jonathan are staying until they find a place of their own with Nancy, Steve is especially pleased wuth the way they smell, like love and comfort and family, not like his kids but still family, and just a tiny hit of Other, not unlike the way Wayne smells, just not as deep, like it has been bred out for too many years tobe like them.

Argyle just smiles and helps him build his nest, fixing parts when Steve gets frustrated with the edges and telling his stories, and Steve knkws that there is at least one Other, all the way out in California because Argyle speaks of his grandmother, whise age no one in the family seems to know and who changes it everytime she's asked, sometimes she's 90, other she has lost count after all tbe centuries that have passed.

"You remind me of her." Argyle tells him as they finish the nest and move on to making an overhang to hid it, "She'd make nests like this whenever the moms would get pregnant, and she'd lay with them inside until the babies were two weeks old, the babies were kept there, not presented until that time."

Argyle looked at Steve, "We always had home births, I helped with my mom's last one, nothing came of it, the child was not born alive, but I know what to do."

"Why wasn't it alive?" Steve asked, curious.

"These things sometimes happen, the first generation of a crossbreed always has more dead children than live." Argyle said gently, "It's why there are no multiples in my family, because it was better to make one at a time."

Steve paused as he held a blanket.

"But my family only had Grandmother, you have Wayne too. I think, I think your kind is not meant to be alone, not really." Argyle said softly with a smile, "You have all of us too."

"Yes, yes, I have all of you." Steve smiled back and nailed his blanket up before going to retreive the blankets he and Eddie had been using for the last few days, spreading them over the nest beneath the tent of blankets, so his scent of warmth, love and home, home, home was the most prominant, and them he went and dug out the work shirt he'd stolen from Wayne and tucked it into a corner of the nest, he wanted their eventual children to know Wayne's scent, but most importantly he wanted them to know it as a safe one, like the others in the nest, to know that he was not a danger to them, but a protection for them.

"I think I'd like to meet your Grandmother." Steve said as he a Argyle finished the nest, Steve would drag the children to sleel there for the night, in order to embed their smells a little more secrurely.

"I think she'd like to meet you, too." Argyle said, "But the moms are getting ready for the next baby back home, so it may take a few months before she comes out here."

Steve nodded with a hum, children first, he'd neet her eventually, maybe she'd even come out to stay, it would be nice to have others of his ki d he could trust to help keep his family safe.

-

A/n: so, a lot of people seemed to want Argyle to be the Other, well, he's not completely Other but rather a few generations removed, because why not.

His grandmother came through one of the cracks, ate a few towns, and then fell in love with one of the natives tasked with killing her, he married her instead and they had to flee the tribe when she spawned and ended up in California where she had three live children(girls all of them, Argyle is the first boy born in the family because he's the first one that also has two moms, the others chose a male partner.)

Because it amuses me to think that all the of decendents of Argyle's Grandmother are female and can therefore Spawn without a male presence, which some of them have, so Argyle has practical Spawning knowledge because Wayne has never Spawned in his life and Steve needs someone that will make sure his hybred babies live.

Have a happy unbirthday(it's my actual birthday so I'm making like a Hobbit and giving you a gift.)

@addelyin @merricatty @lesbiabrobin @apuckishwit @0o-mushroom-o0 @starlight-archer @darkwitchoferie @just-a-tiny-void @swimmingbirdrunningrock @intergalactic-president-awesome @vampireinthesun @goodolefashionedloverboi @adhdsummer @purpleanimeoverart @space-invading-pigeon @lilaclilyroses @nohomoyesbi @plantzzsandpencilzzs @korixae @subversivecynic @flusteredcas @persnicketysquares @freddykicksasses @little-trash-ghost @cupcakesnwhiskey @cats-ate-all-of-my-pasta @planetsoda @paintsplatteredandimperfect @irregular-child @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @steddieassheg0es

[may-bornmia]

Clingy Little Baby (series) - Bang Chan

(a/n: THIS HAS BEEN POSTED ON WATTPAD UNDER MY USERNAME may_bornmia !!)

Pairings: Bang Chan x OC (you can picture yourself, whatever makes you comfortable :))

Warnings (for the entirety of the series): littlespace, forthcoming smut, subspace, a HUGE amount of fluff, fast-paced story

CHAPTER 1: A Crush

Bang Christopher Chan has tried his goddamn best to look away, but whenever Park Ahyoung is in the same lecture as him, seated right before him, he fails miserably. It would be an understatement to call his admiration for her just a crush, because, to him, she was the prettiest, most endearing girl on the entire college campus. 

He did not lack female attention; instead, he had an abundance of it, with almost every other girl trying to converse with him somehow, or even touch him. And he was polite to everyone -- smiling whenever someone talked to him, helping others with their assignments, and was on good terms with the professors. So it did not make much of a difference whenever someone new came to interact with him. 

Yet, he knew that something was different when, for the first time, a fidgety Ahyoung walked over to his seat and feebly asked him about their next assignment. Attention sparked, and he felt slight goosebumps on his skin when she adorably smiled, mumbling a little 'thank you' to him before waddling away. Chan was immediately made aware of her presence; the petite introvert with the cutest smile and sparkly eyes, and the smallest voice known to mankind. 

Something in him moved that day -- to say it in the cheesiest manner -- and for two weeks, he had been trying to come up with excuses to talk to her. However, it was a rather tough job, because she was extremely shy and introverted. And she seemed afraid of him, God knows why. 

And currently, sitting behind her, his attention kept diverting from the lecture to Ahyoung. He tried his best to tear his focus away from the cutie, but when she turned to the side to face her friend and smile, his heart almost exploded with joy. 

It was always a gorgeous sight to see her smile. 

As far as he had observed, she only had a single friend, Kim Seungmin, who was super protective of her. It was like he was shielding his own child from the malice of this sinful world. Chan had seen him cuss out loud at some girl who was trying to pick on Ahyoung, and by the end of the curses, that girl had her mascara running down her face. 

Chan watched her in a dreamy trance, until his seatmate, Han Jisung, whispered to him, "You look drunk." 

The Aussie woke up from his trance and faced Jisung, who stifled a chuckle. Chan sighed and whispered back to him, "Shut up." 

"With this," the professor spoke, "We end today's class. You're all dismissed." 

Chan was collecting his books when he heard Seungmin speak to Ahyoung, "I have to go home right now. Mom isn't doing well, so I need to take care of her. I won't be able to do the presentation with you in the next class." 

Ahyoung made an adorable pout at him, and Chan heard her voice over a mumble for the first time as she spoke, "I hope she gets well soon, Minnie." 

The loverboy could almost melt there. 

Seungmin spoke further, "Will you be able to present alone?" 

"I... can try." 

The best friend grinned, patting her head, "I'm rooting for you, alright? Call me once you're done." 

He gathered his books and walked out of the class, and Jisung picked up his stuff, saying, "Come on, Chan, let's go. We have a presentation in the next class." 

One could see the gears turning in Chan's head. As soon as Ahyoung stood up, fixing her skirt, he spoke up from his seat, "Hey, Ahyoung!" 

She looked visibly nervous, "Um, hello..." 

"Are you prepared for the presentation?" 

Jisung watched in utter curiosity at his friend trying to make her comfortable. He was aware of Chan's crush on her. But what was he doing? 

Ahyoung, on the other hand, bit her lower lip in the most latent manner, "I am, but I-I don't have a partner." 

"Oh, I don't have a partner, too," Chan lied, pretending to think hard, "How about we partner up for this?" 

Ahyoung's eyes widened, and from the background, one could hear Jisung shrieking, "Bro, really?" 

"Would you be comfortable partnering up with me?" Chan continued to gently ask her, and she rubbed her shoe on the ground subtly, anxious about the entire ordeal. However, partnering up with someone could prove to be better than doing it all herself, right? All the amount of anxiety was piling up on her, and she kept telling herself in her head: Bang Chan is a good person. Bang Chan is a good person. He won't harm me. 

So, she questioned, "We haven't prepared together yet..." 

"We still have, like, 30 minutes before the next class. How about we prepare now?" the Aussie grinned charmingly, and she blushed and looked down, "Okay, let's do it." 

"Unbelievable," Jisung walked off in comic frustration, having been betrayed just a moment ago. 

___

(a/n: next part coming up soon!~)

[violetlunette]

Something I really like about Silver is that no matter what the situation, he’ll always do what he truly believes to be right, no matter what may happen next.

Twst Spoilers

*Playland Event

*Glorious Masquerade

*Book 7

Notes:

*Overthinking and rambling

Two examples of Silver’s “fuck it, I’ll do what’s right” are in the Endless Halloween Event and in Chapter/book 7.

Lilia and Malleus are two of the most beloved people to him, they’re literally everything to him along with Sebek. Yet when they screw up he firmly tells them such.

He pointed out that in the Halloween Event that, while the two wanted to do something nice for everyone, the way they went about it was wrong as students could have gotten hurt.

In Chapter 7, Silver understands that Malleus wants to make everyone happy and not lose Lilia. However, he still calls Malleus out for trapping everyone against their will and is even willing to fight his master, despite owing the other for helping to raise him and the fact Malleus turns on him after this. Why? Because what Malleus is doing is wrong and he’s hurting people.

Silver is extremely empathetic; he does his best to understand others and why they do what they do. However, he does so without discarding the actions they do and the effects on others.

This is one of the reasons I wanted to see him in the Playland event as I want to see how he would react to someone he isn’t emotionally connected to doing severe harm.

Fellow and Gidel are human traffickers and are fully aware of what they’re doing, and the harm they cause and don’t care.

Kalim, who shares Silver’s good heart, wants to understand why Fellow is doing what he is, and try to reach a peaceful resolution. (Though in this case, I don’t believe he knows there are other victims, so we don’t know how he would react if he knew.)

Ace, on the other hand, focuses solely on the actions of Fellow in the present and the danger he’s inflicting on them and their friends. Therefore, he’s not even willing to consider a peaceful solution.

And the rest—as soon as they’re not in danger, they don’t give a fuck. (I think it’s out of character for Floyd and Jade who I believe would seek revenge, but I digress. It’s fairly in-character for the rest of them.)

I wonder how Silver would react in that situation—provided he was written in character. (And KNEW there were past victims.)

In the Masquerade event, he seems to let Rollo slide, but in that case he was handled by Malleus and when everything was fixed there was no lasting damage. Everyone was tired but recovered, so while there was fowl, there was no harm.

In Fellow and Gidel’s case, it’s different; there are victims, there is harm, lasting harm. People are still out there, trapped within their bodies, screaming for help that will never come while the ones that loved them are doomed to mourn forever.

Going to what Silver might do if he were at Playland, I think he would be in the middle ground between Ace and Kalim. Like Kalim, he’d want to understand and negotiate peacefully, however, he wouldn’t just ignore Fellow’s actions, past or present.

Silver’s an empathetic person. While he might empathize with how hopeless Fellow must have felt to fall with this point, he would also feel for the people who were hurt.

I know he’d call Fellow out and lay out what was wrong, but what about after? Would Silver’s words reach Fellow and make him feel guilty? Or would he just shrug it off and fight Silver till the boy was a puppet? And what after, assuming everyone made it out? Would Silver just let them go, or hand them over to the authorities?

Most likely, he would turn to Lilia who would tell him to let them go, or let them go himself if the two showed genuine remorse. See, as noble as Silver is, he isn’t a seeker of justice. His desire is to protect, not smite evil.

So, to wrap up, I like the noble side of Silver and am glad we get to see it whenever he takes the stage. Personally, I want to see that spirit of his challenged more by facing those with actual dark intentions where HE has to make a choice of how to handle them.

[citrus-simp]

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 1

Warnings: language, Katsuki is basically cold and mean here. Katsuki is 23 here and reader is 22

note: just be aware this series will end up being 18+ this chapter won’t be so much because it’s simply the first chapter! Your have been warned!!

2

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

“Alright that patches things up! Now stay off of your foot this time!” You scold the knight as you stand from your seat. You had once again tended and patched up more than 20 soldiers from their last battle. Your kingdom had unfortunately been in the most of a battle between a neighboring kingdom to the south. Once their ruler had found the richness of the land and it’s properties he wanted it for his own. Now he would send invasions to weaken your kingdom until it was his for the taking.

Not only did you have strong warriors but you also had an amazing medical team. Your kingdom made sure to prioritize the education of medical procedures and techniques. You happened to be one of the top performing healers in the castle. In fact you were also the princess and heir to the thrown. You had shown much promise to your father and advisors. Typically wanting a male heir you showed much more potential and promise than any that came before you.

“You get it from your mother” you father would always comment whenever you were praised for strategic action. In fact you were sometimes called the perfect princess. Intelligent, kind, strong and ever so beautiful. However, you were very stubborn and set on not fixing a suitor. You felt It was simply a waste of time and a position where you would end up only being a trophy wife. You felt much better in the most of the action rather than the sidelines.

“Your highness, the king has requested your presence” a young lady in waiting had informed you

“Hm, it must be about the last invasion. Please tend to these men and make sure they’re given the herbs that are needed” you order before taking your leave. Walking up the steps into the main hall and taking a left into the throne room, you find your father.

“Ah Y/N, come sit my princess, we have something important to discuss” he said patting your own throne seat next to his. You walk over and take your seat but still face him. Usually you’d sit properly in front of your subjects and anyone else in the room but it was just you both this time! Your favorite! You just felt like father and daughter. No titles, no burdens or responsibilities.

"Now, because of this war some things have surfaced between us and our neighboring kingdom to the north. I won’t stretch out the truth and tell you straight away” he says with a pause “….You will marry within a month. For the remaining time you will spend with Katsuki in the Bakugou kingdom"

"WHAT? FATHER YOU CANT-“

"The decision has been made, and finalize the two of the truth, and will be married after two weeks of kingdoms will join into one. This will not only bring peace between our kingdoms, but it is in the war with Neighboring kingdom." He cut you off.

You guess there was no fighting this. You, an independent and intelligent princess betrothed to the infamous prince Katsuki Bakugou, the dragon prince. Now known as your soon to be husband and king.

Sure you knew that as a princess, you would be betrothed at some point in your life but him of all royalty? He was known for being ruthless mean and cold some would even say barbaric. However, with the war, a hand any possible, step ahead should be taken once it appears. If it meant that your kingdom and your father would be saved, then you were willing to marry and join the kingdoms.

“father...please don't make me.." you tried to plead in a last attempt. Maybe, just maybe there was a second option. Your father loves you more than anything. But this war was taking a toll on recourses, soldiers and the last thing he needed was to also loose you. The Bakugou kingdom was strong no doubt and uniting may be the only way to keep you safe. Combining your kingdoms talent with medical and health skills with their strategic fighting may finally put things to rest.

"Y/N, you will be fine. I'll make you a deal. If at any moment you feel your life is truly threatened and you are facing life or death, I will call this off completely." He said, trying to alleviate some of the stress of the situation.

And it was enough for you.

“Deal. But I still will not enjoy this. If you expect me to fall in love with him, then you're wrong."

~~~

"Katsuki. This is not up for discussion. They are not only our neighboring kingdom they are also a valuable Ally not to mention the princess is very beautiful, patient and intelligent." His mother, the queen inquired

"Like I give a damn about all that bullshit. I do just fine on my own" said prince crossing his arms “I don't need a damn bride to make anything better”

" complain all you want, but in two days time she will be here in our kingdom. Spend the next week with you before the wedding" she spat back. Funny enough whoever met the queen was convinced that she ran the kingdom and not her husband.

"Whatever you old hag" Bakugou brushed her off as he left the throne room

“Prepare yourself Katsuki! You have to grow out of that mentality to run this kingdom...and clean your damn room! No woman wants to see that!" She sighs as she watches her son walk out of the throne room. His signature scowl and fiery eyes making anyone in the halls move aside.

Opening the door to his bedroom he slams it shut and flips on to his bed. He crossed his arms behind his head as he stared into the ceiling.

“Tch. Damn war and contracts.” He muttered to himself. Just then there was a knock at the door. Without waiting for an answer it opens and in comes a young man around the same age with bright red hair.

“Hey Bakugou! Heard about the engagement, you must be excited” he said closing the door

“If you call wanting to give up my title so I don’t have to marry excited. sure I am excited” he answers sitting up “don’t know why I had to get wrapped up in this shit. They can just crown me, give me the kingdom and I’ll end this war in one blow.” He said standing from his bed “let’s go spar i gotta blow off steam”

Kirishima was his play mate in the castle as a child who eventually became part of the guard. They now spar, hunt, or just plainly hang out together. he will never admit it, Kirishima was more of a friend than castle staff to him.

As the two young males spar together they exchange conversation and comments among each other. Their swords clashing in clinging every now and then followed by grunts or curses. Both were very skilled fighters and were known for their strength.

“Come on man *clang* it can’t be- woah! That bad” he comments as he doges a swing of his sword and a punch “I mean I think everyone at some point thinks about finding someone to spend your life with”

“ yeah, that’s everyone else, Shity Hair, not me! AH!” He shouts as swings his sword to have Kirishima duck and and knock him off his feet

“You gotta stop call me that man, we both basically have the same hair” he said from the ground lookin up at the prince.

“Yeah whatever, get your ass up” he said reaching his hand out for him to take. Bakugou has always had things done on his own without help. If his parents would allow him he’d go into battle and show everyone just how capable he was without a title, wife or anything.

“Hopefully she’ll hate this idea as much as I do” he said dusting himself off “then I can just send her off to where she came from. Heh or maybe even just keep her around to entertain me”

“Well yeah i guess, but doesn’t that seem a bit cruel?” Kirishima commented

“And? I just need her out of the way.”

“And what if she goes through all of that and ends up staying? What are you gonna do then?” He questioned his plan making the young man think

“I doubt she’ll get there but if she does, I could really care less if she stays or leaves. Let’s go eat I’m starving”

Kirishima simply shook his head and followed the young man inside to the dining hall.

~~~ the next day~~~

You gaze out of the carriage as you were on your way to the Bakugou kingdom. You honestly didn’t feel like it was happening. Like an out of body experience. Maybe your body was on autopilot because of the huge shift. You just stared out into the sky thinking of what you could have been doing instead.

Instead of packing all your clothes, and books. Instead of reading the garden under the large oak tree. Instead of helping people in the medical area of the castle. Instead you were here on your way to be married off.

The ride to their kingdom would take about one day and one night. You had left the night before so you’ll probably be there by nightfall of the day. Your father would actually spend those few days with you so he’s able to attend to wedding. You were happy for that part at least. As you stared blankly at the sky you hadn’t even realized you had fallen asleep. The motion of the carriage and the sound of hooves dancing on the ground had put you right to sleep.

Once you had gotten there you peeked from the vehicle and saw the king, Queen and prince standing in front of the castle entrance. The prince seemed at have said something that earned him a smack tot he head from his mother. Your father helped you out of the carriage as you were both announced.

“Please welcome the arrival of Y/L/N kingdom!” You and your father walked arm in arm up the steps and were welcomed by the king and queen.

“Welcome to our kingdom King (name) and of course princess Y/N” the queen said taking a quick bow. You and your father reciprocate the same action and thank her for her welcome. “Come inside, nightfall is near and usually the cold settles in more” she said moving out of the way to welcome you both into the large and impressive castle.”

As he walked by and take a quick glance at the prince and see his cold scowl. Aside from his attitude portrayed on his face, you could see that he was indeed, very attractive. He had a strong build in a very handsome face with wild and explosive looking hair. He also had deep, bright red eyes. They almost look like rubies. 

However all that beauty goes to waste when he scans you up and down and gives you a scoff. His father pushed him towards you urging him to play his role as the crowned prince of the kingdom. Rolling his eyes he takes your hand and raises it to kiss the back of your hand with a groan. Contrast of his cold demeanor, and his warm, soft kiss honestly confused you. Maybe other princesses with you by his actions, but you felt the hypocrisy behind it.

You follow behind the royals as they lead you into the dinning hall to enjoy a dinner together. You say next to your father and across the table we’re the royal family. His parents seemed delighted and almost relived you were there. Bakugou looked like he’s rather be doing anything else.

“Y/N, I’ve heard a lot about your studies you do for you kingdom” the queen complimented trying to break the awkward silence

“Oh you better believe every word,” you father answered “if I had ti admit she’s the backbone of our kingdom and why we keep fighting back” he said ruffling your hair

“Yeah right” Katsuki mumbled under his breath

“Well your majesty, i knew our soldiers not needed not only the best medical attention but also medical attention in numbers. Giving that we have a sizable amount of young men I had taken women from our village, gave them education and had them work beside me.” You explain as a fire back to the princes remark

“Fascinating,” she said leaning on her hand

“Not only do we benefit from it, those in the village do as well. Mortality rate has dropped, those in poor areas can now afford food and shelter due to their jobs with us, and of course we help one another to survive” you elaborate more

“She’s quit nice son, why don’t you give it a shot” his father whispered nudging his son only making the prince roll his eyes

“Gorgeous, intelligent, and talented! You really are a rare treasure princess.” She complimented you once again “anyway! You must both be exhausted from the long journey. Please show them to their rooms” the queen called for the staff to assist you to your rooms for the time being.

As tradition is, you all now to one another and they all wished you a good nights rest. After settling in to your room, you change into something comfortable and look out of the window. It was late summer and you could feel the chill of Autumn coming through the glass. You had a beautiful view of their village and all the little lights on. Looking upwards you see a candle in the window of none other than the prince. He had gone to turn out the candle when he spotted you.

You both just stared at one another for a moment. As if trying to communicate some kind of message from the distance. He simply raised the candle near his face and blew out the flame. Instead you took your candle and placed it on the bed side. You watch as the flame danced freely on the wick of the candle. Freely flickering and dancing and waving as she pleased.

I’m ways your wishes to be that same candle. Dancing within your own world, to your path…and no one else’s…you feel your eyes flutter shut as the hypnotic flame pulls you into sleep for the night.

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

Taglist 🐉: @aikugo @outcast-thingz @sad0ni0n @sageyrage @cathwritestragediesnotsins @scarsofbeauty

[hand-written-dreams]

CRIMSON SHADE

Chapter 09

In the Eye of the Storm

I call her trouble

She knows exactly what she's doing to me

- ( The song of the chapter is " Trouble" by Camylio)

The rain pounds against the windshield, the rhythmic sound blending with the low hum of the engine as he grips the steering wheel tighter. His eyes remain fixed on the road, but his mind is far from focused on the drive. Instead, it’s tangled in thoughts of her.

Why her?

Why can't this girl stay the fuck out of his life?

And now she is living rent-free in his fucking head as well. Nonstop.

The wipers swipe furiously, clearing the glass for just a moment before the downpour obscures it again, just like his thoughts of her. No matter how many times he tries to push her out of his mind, she keeps coming back, unsettling him in ways he can’t control.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

He isn’t supposed to feel anything.

Not toward her.

He has built walls around himself for a reason and has mastered the art of indifference. Nobody knows what he had to do to stand in a place where he looked at her and felt nothing.

But there she is.

Back again in his life with a bang.

The girl is a chaos. Whenever she is in his life, she brings nothing but carnage.

Khushi Sen Gupta.

The bane of his existence.

She will be the ruin of him, he can feel it in his bones.

Just like she ruined him 18 years ago.

But this time, she's back to ruin him in a different way. And he’s not sure which one is more dangerous, the little girl who shattered his world then and turned his life upside down or the woman standing before him with fire in her eyes now.

Her fiery Hazel eyes flash through his mind.

Fuck!

He bangs his hand on the steering wheel hard, triggering several sensors all at once.

Anger doesn't suit him. He has meticulously controlled it all these years, sealing the cracks, ensuring that no emotion slips through, not anger, not fear, not pain..... not anything.

Yet, she's already found a way of slipping through the cracks, getting under his skin. She is like a splinter lodged deep inside.

Irritating, persistent.

And impossible to ignore.

One moment, he convinces himself she doesn’t matter, that she is just another complication he can manage. And yet, in the next breath, his mind will drift to her. Those defiant eyes, how the green around her iris seems to flare up like it's caught on fire, whenever she seethes with rage. The way her skin flushes, the way her voice quivers with anger or softens in the next moment. And then, there are her lips and the way she bites them.

Damn it. The girl is fucking haunting. She has been in his mind like a spell since the night she held a knife to his back.

He met plenty of beautiful women in his life, women with perfect bodies, perfect hair, perfect skin. Supermodels, movie stars.....yet they all seem to fade away when it comes to her.

What is it that made him so fixated on her?

It isn’t like she is new to him. He's seen her before, knew what she looked like. So what has changed?

He shouldn't pretend like he doesn't know what has changed. He knows, damn it.

Then, again. Why her?

He should not fucking care. She should be just another casualty, another collateral damage. He presses harder on the gas, the car slicing through the rain-soaked streets.

It’s not possible that he can’t throw away the thought of a certain girl from his head. Arnav Singh Raizada can't be affected by anyone, especially not by her.

It is infuriating, maddening, to be so consumed by someone he wants nothing to do with. The rain falls harder, and he drives faster as if somehow, speeding through the storm will drown out the storm within him. But it doesn’t. He knows it never will.

But one thing he is sure of -- Khushi Sen Gupta is the most dangerous creature he has ever encountered. A chaos wrapped in a red saree, dancing in the rain, and she’s back again to wreak havoc once again. A storm he thought he'd survived, only to find it returning fiercer, more dangerous than ever.

And this time, she might destroy him for good.

Fuck!

He storms into his office, his secret office, where he conducts his other interests. Water drips from his soaked clothes. His hair is a chaotic mess from running his fingers through it.

He shrugs off his drenched blazer, tossing it onto the leather couch, not bothering to glance at the door as it clicks shut behind him.

Sheetal is already inside, sitting on his desk, waiting for him. She raises her eyebrow at his appearance but quickly masks it with a sultry smile. “Rough day?” she purrs, leaning back slightly, her eyes roaming over his dishevelled figure.

He barely acknowledges her as he sits down behind the desk, rubbing his temple. But before he can settle into his chair, she moves swiftly, sliding off the desk and onto his lap in one fluid motion.

"Arnav, you’re soaked," she says as she places a hand on his chest, fingers trailing the wet fabric of his shirt.

"So am I." Her lips curl into a smile.

For a moment, he doesn’t react, his gaze distant, staring past her as if she isn’t even there as he loosens his tie. Then, slowly, his eyes lock onto hers.

"Is Mr. Rathore's dick not keeping you satisfied? If you need another one up your ass, I can arrange that. But don't play this kind of stunt on me." His voice drops down an octave. "Now. Get. Off. Me."

She pouts, sliding off his lap and settling into the chair across from him, "You are no fun."

"Why are you here?" His tone cuts through her playful act.

She bites her lip, flashing him a coy smile, the same tactics she always uses when she wants something. It might work on Mr.Rathore, but not on him.

"Umm...Listen, it's been four years. I want out. How long do I have to keep playing this part?"

"You get me what I want and you are free to go."

"Didn't I get you enough intel already? Didn't I tell you about the deal? ......and the thing with the Serpent wouldn't have been possible if it wasn't for me?"

"It's not time yet."

"I don't fucking care!!!" Her voice shakes as she clutches her head.

What the....! Why's she so dramatic today? She wants drama, he can be equally dramatic. Also today is not a good day . Not for him.

"Don't you just look pretty with all your body parts intact, Sheetal? Or what's his name again, Aarav, right?" He says turning his laptop on. Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see the trembling of her hands. Her eyes widen at the mention of this name. "Do you have a short-term memory? Do I need to remind you all of these... every two months? About what will happen if you don't do what I say?"

"You know that old hag loves me. I can ruin your life in a second if I just open my mouth."

He chuckles, barely glancing up from his screen, "It's funny that you think you can use this against me." He just shakes his head, typing away a pending email to one of his business partners. "By the way, I thought you already opened your mouth for him."

"You...."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk...." his voice sounds icy. "Think twice before cursing the man who holds your son's life in his hand."

Her eyes gloss over as she looks away. "I haven't seen my son properly in last four years....because you have him captive...."

"I don't have him captive. You know it very well. If you want an increase in the visiting hours. You can just say so...Stop these theatrics."

"Death would be much better than this. Why don't you just kill me?" she whispers looking out of the window.

Now, she is taking it too far. Exactly when she knows he won't kill her.

"That's, my dear, would be a waste. And, why would I do that? You've been so good to me. Besides, it'd be a shame to lose such a pretty face."

She has wasted enough of his time. She needs to go. He has other matters to take care of. "And, just so we're clear, If ..You...Ever..Open Your mouth for anything other than his dick. I won't kill you..umm..no....I will just kill your son. And...I will let you live. "

Her face pales as horror spreads across her features.

He smirks, "I am kidding,..... sort of."

"You are a monster."

"Tell me something I don't know," he sighs. "We had an agreement, Sheetal, didn't we? As long as you keep your end of the deal, I'll keep mine. So why are we here tonight, threatening each other?"

She just sits there pensively looking outside the window. "Go home before I change my mind." His tone is final.

The click of her heels fades as she leaves, the sound grating on his nerves. He leans back in his chair, eyes narrowing.

Sheetal has been testing his patience far too often lately. He doesn’t have the habit of repeating himself, and her constant mood swings are starting to wear him thin.

He taps his fingers against the desk, considering. Is it time to get rid of her?  Not yet. No, he needs her for just a little while longer. Mr. Rathore is no fool, removing her too soon would raise suspicions and he can't afford that right now. Timing is everything.

A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. Soon. Just a little longer, and she’ll be discarded like the pawn she always was.

He first met Sheetal at one of their fashion shows, amidst the glitz and glamour of the Fashion Line Group. A supermodel with legs that seemed to stretch on forever, a sultry smile that could weaken even the most resolute of men. She glided through the room like she owned it, a confidence so sharp that it cut through any sense of modesty. She drew attention effortlessly like a magnet, the kind of woman who didn’t have to try to be noticed.

Even Mr. Rathore, known for his stoic indifference, couldn't take his eyes off her despite his age. So much so that he started pursuing her and they started seeing each other secretly.

With her natural charm, that smooth, flirtatious voice, and a manipulation technique so precise it was almost art, Sheetal knew how to make a man fall for her. She knew how to get what she wanted, and she always made sure she did. She had an insatiable desire for luxury, money, comfort and a strong will to do whatever required to achieve that.

Arnav had seen through her from the start. To others, she was a vision, a desirable conquest. To him, she was a weapon, one he could wield as he saw fit.

So, he offered her a deal, ten million a year, for her to do whatever he said, and to his delight, she accepted. But there was one condition, he had to ensure her son’s safety. So, Arnav had Aarav moved to a safe house, somewhere she could only visit with proper planning.

And that’s when the real game began. The key lay in knowing how to place her in the right spot. With meticulous planning, he positioned her in Mr. Jha’s orbit to see if he was taken by her beauty like others or not. Mr. Jha was, to put it more accurately, absolutely taken by her. So, Arnav ensures she’s close enough to Mr.Jha to gain his trust, to become indispensable.

She played her part perfectly, whispering into Mr.Jha's ear about how she could work for him by warming Mr.Rathore's bed. Mr.Jha liked that idea very much, didn't he?

After that, she kept throwing her web at Mr.Rathore and he got tangled in it more and more. And soon they started living together. That part was surprisingly easy. Guess, he was lonely after the death of Akash's mother. Then again, since when had he been so faithful to his marriage?

Mr. Jha thought she was working for him, spying on Mr. Rathore from within and feeding him valuable information directly from the eagle’s den. What Mr.Jha didn’t know was that the one pulling the strings all along was someone else altogether.

Sheetal wasn’t anyone’s puppet but his.

Every move she made, every bit of intel she whispered into Mr. Jha’s ear was orchestrated by him. It was all part of the plan. His plan.

He wonders what’s gotten into her lately. He can tell she’s been enjoying the attention from these powerful men, relishing the control, the taste of power that came with having them in the palm of her hand. But recently for few weeks, her behavior is off... unpredictable. She's also got him in a very bad time. He needs to talk to her and figure out what's really going on.

Honestly, Sheetal has been very useful to him. Extracting words from Mr. Rathore is no simple task. The man is a fucking vault, tightly shut. Yet, somehow, she's managed to coax the secret out of him. It just took four long years.

Recently, they had a breakthrough, and she just got him the greatest intel of all. The deal Mr.Rathore made with the other families, the leverage he holds over them. The leverage he holds over him to an extent.

It's a brilliant deal, he has to admit. Ruthless, calculated, and perfectly executed, exactly the kind of move he would have made. That’s what he got from Mr.Rathore. No sentiment, no weakness. Just power plays and leverage. It’s a game where only the heartless survive and Mr.Rathore understands that well.

But one thing very peculiar yet commendable about these cold-blooded gangsters is that they might kill your offsprings, but they do love their offsprings to the death. After all, family comes before everything else.

Huh! Anyway.

Armed with those intels, plans were perfectly executed. Mission was accomplished. But a little complication with her fiery hazel eyes and sassy words entered his life. And she didn't enter empty-handed, she entered with knives.

Plans had to be scrapped and remodelled. Old chess pieces had to be removed and replaced with new ones.

It was time to get rid of Mr.Rathore's childhood friend slash bodyguard, Mohan Rajjani and set someone from Arnav’s arsenal in Rajjani’s place.

About A Week Ago

He asked Rajjani to meet him in the cafeteria of Rathore Industries. It's a place devoid of CCTV, perfect for the occasion. They’re supposed to go over the security details for Mr. Rathore's upcoming visit to Russia. They were trying to do business with the Russian mob, the Bratva, for some time.

In the secluded corner, Arnav sat on the couch with his back against the wall, two steaming cups of coffee in front of him.

One for him, one for Rajjani.

Mr. Rajjani loved coffee.

Double espresso, extra shot, no sugar with full cream milk--hot, not streamed.

Rajjani finally arrived, a solid presence and a no-nonsense attitude that had served him well over the years. Even in his older years, there’s an unmistakable fierceness in him. He made his way over, his expression a mix of curiosity and caution. Arnav gestured for him to take a seat.

“Mr.Raizada,” he greets, his tone friendly yet wary.

Arnav slide the coffee cup across the table. His eyes narrowed as he appraised the older man seated rigidly across from him.

"The coffee's for you."

"Oh, thanks."

Nodding his head, Rajjani took a careful sip from the cup.

Arnav’s eyes fixed on his own cup as he slowly tore the sachet of sugar. He picked up a spoon from the saucer in front of him and started to stir his coffee, leisurely, taking his time. His voice was dangerously calm as he asked, "Is the coffee up to your liking, Mr. Rajjani?"

"Surprisingly yes, the canteen boy finally learned."

Arnav simply nodded and leaned back, placing one ankle over his knee. He continued drinking his coffee while scrolling through his phone. He stayed silent, just sipping his coffee and watching Rajjani from the corner of his eyes. That was always his go-to move. People underestimated how powerful silence could be, especially when they couldn’t stand the weight of it. Humans had a tendency to fill the gaps, and he knew how to use that against them. It was psychological torture, a game he’d mastered over the years.

The silence was thick between them. When it became unbearable Rajjani shifted, casting a glance at Arnav.

"Why don't we talk in front of Mr. Rathore? He is alone in his office."

"I just want to talk to you alone."

Rajjani hesitated for a moment and Arnav could see the wheels turning in his mind. Years in this business had sharpened Rajjani's instincts for trouble, a survival skill he had mastered. Just as he began to rise from his seat, Arnav decided to interrupt.

"I didn’t give you permission to leave, Mr. Rajjani." Arnav said as he looked up.

Rajjani's eyes hardened as his suspicion was confirmed. "I don’t take orders from anyone except Mr. Rathore."

Arnav pursed his lips, measuring Rajjani with his eyes."You will....from me."

Rajjani scoffed, "Do you think I give a damn, boy? I grew up with your father. I don’t fear you."

Arnav paused, lowering his cup to the table. "Yet."

He looked at Rajjani’s coffee cup. It was empty.

Indicating Rajjani’s cup with his eyebrows, he continued, "You know the coffee you just enjoyed so much? It's poisoned. An extremely rare blend of toxin, very hard to acquire and very expensive,... but I collected it especially for occasions like this."

Rajjani’s smirk faded as his face paled, his fingers twitching involuntarily towards the cup.

"But that's beside the point," Arnav added with a casual wave of his hand. "Just one drop or two... and I’d give you about five....umm, no..maybe ten minutes at best.....Soon you will start to sweat and your heart will begin to race...and then it’ll feel like it’s about to burst....Unless, of course, you get the antidote, which just so happens to be in my pocket."

The color drained from Rajjani’s face.

"What is that? Am I smelling fear?" Arnav’s smile widened, as he crossed his arms, his head tilting to the side. "I just fucking love the smell of fear.... Don't you?"

Rajjani tugged on his collar, sweat beading on his forehead.

"You don't have a lot of time, Mr.Rajjani . I suggest you start to cooperate." Arnav said looking at his watch.

Rajjani exhaled sharply, "What do you want?"

"You know, this is why I like you. You really know how to value others' time." Arnav drawled out casually. "Now tell me about the girls."

"What girls? I don’t know anything about any girls!" Rajjani stammered.

"You know, Mr. Rajjani, I don’t like people who lie to my face." Arnav stated as he leaned forward. "Mr. Rathore has a safe house in Lucknow for all the girls, doesn’t he?"

Rajjani’s silence was answer enough.

"So you know about the girls, huh? What I want to know is..., " Arnav picked up a napkin and offered it to Rajjani. "..... about the one growing in the shade of the serpent. Who is she?"

Rajjani hesitated, before finally speaking, his voice wavered. "She’s the real deal, I see." Rajjani gulped then continued, "The raven. She’s the daughter of the raven...... you know all too well about the raven, don’t you Arnav?"

Arnav could feel his face hardened, but he kept his emotions in check. "He wasn’t married. Mistress?"

Rajjani smirked weakly, trying to regain some composure. "More of a lover. He was the lover boy of the group. Loved that girl probably most of his life. But couldn’t marry her because of your father. Such a great friend he was."

Arnav clenched his jaw, "What happened to the mother?"

Rajjani’s gaze dropped to the floor. "She died. I don’t know how. After her death, he brought the girl to your house."

Yes, he knew all about how the girl was brought to their house. Need no reminder of that.

Rajjani's breath came in short, panicked gasps. "I’ve told you everything I know. Now give me the antidote."

"There’s no antidote."

The old man’s face contorted in shock and rage. "You lied! You have no ethics."

Arnav smirked, "I never said I have."

"Mr. Rathore will know about this."

Arnav unlocked his phone, typing a message to his manager, his tone is almost conversational. "You’re dying of a heart attack, Mr. Rajjani. No one will find a trace of the poison in your body in the next fifteen minutes."

"Mr. Rathore will suspect something." A weak voice rasped out.

Arnav’s smile widened, "Really? Do you honestly think Mr. Rathore will suspect me?"

The silence that followed was suffocating. Rajjani’s eyes filled with despair as his body betrayed him. He leaned forward, clutching his chest, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. With the last of his strength, he spat out, "You will rot in hell, Arnav."

Arnav straightened and stood up, "See you there in a couple of years," he said, buttoning his coat. "Make it ready for me, and be prepared to kneel at my feet."

His tone dropped to a deadly whisper as he turned to leave, leaving Rajjani's lifeless body slumped on the table. "I was born to rule, Mr. Rajjani. I will die to rule as well."

His phone pings, bringing him back to the moment. His eyes flicker to the screen.

"ALERT: Unauthorized Access Detected!"

What the hell!!

TheSwallow?!?

"Oh, little bird," he muttered under his breath, "What have you done?"

A dangerous glint flickers in his eyes as he feels the thrill running down his body.

The beauty of a trump card is that it’s played when no one expects it. It’s not about power, it’s about timing.

And this little bird.

She is his.

Author's Note: Hey everyone! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.

I got a bit lost in Arnav's POV this time. His mind is a can of worms I was hesitant to open! This chapter is pivotal, filled with crucial hints, and now I’m scared, all you brilliant readers might figure it out too soon. Let me know your thoughts and theories in the comments!

Lots of love!!!

< Previous > | < next >

@arshifiesta @featheredclover @phuljari @jalebi-weds-bluetooth @chutkiandchotte @msbhagirathi @herelivesahobbit @titaliya @shiyaravi

[gothicblaze]

Midnight a Silco x Reader fanfiction

Chapter 1 

Big news

A/N: Okay so this chapter doesn't really have any Silco.. But I promise it'll get there! Also feel free to point out any spelling mistakes i made english is not my first language but ill do my best to fix it!

Rating: Safe for most

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: Silco x Reader (not yet though), Vander x Reader (just for a bit!), Possible hints to abuse, Misongony(?)

You walk through the halls of the manor, your heart thumping in your chest as you navigate the long hallways and staircases. You had only just arrived home from your lady-in-waiting duties, having spent the day with Princess Caitlyn Kiramann, helping her plan the upcoming winter ball. Despite you being of a lower class the two of you shared a close bond, something you'd almost call a friendship. The second you arrived back home and entered the manor, a servant had come to tell you that your father wished for you to come to his study. If you were completely honest this scared you, the only times you had been there had been when you got the news of your mothers death and when you were punished, unlike your brothers who were allowed in there whenever they pleased. Something about that made you upset, but you understood your place in the house. They were all supposed to know how to take over your fathers duties should something happen to him, you however were not expected, nor allowed, to do such things. Your duties were with the princess and in the future, with your husband. 

As you reach the large mahogany wood door you take a moment to gather yourself, glancing into the large mirror opposite of the door making sure you looked presentable. It was a cold day and such could be seen by your dress, the fine fabric thicker than most of your other dresses, thankfully a maid had taken your cape before you hurried through the manor. Your face was flushed, the fact you came from outside making itself known. Taking a moment to catch your breath you decide you look alright, not that there was much you could do to look more presentable either way. So you knock. You knock three times, something your father had taught you to do so he knew it was you. As a little girl you hadn't understood why you had to knock in a special way but your brothers didn't, but now you know. 

"Enter."

A deep, cold, voice came from the other side of the large door, undeniably your fathers voice. you take a deep breath before you enter the room. Nothing has changed since the last time you were here. The walls were lined with tall mahogany bookshelves filled with books your family had acquired over the years. in the middle of the room stood your fathers mahogany desk, where he sat like he owned the world. The desk was filled with papers and open books, an organised mess. 

“You asked for me, father?”

You speak softly, knowing about his annoyance when you talk ‘like a man’ as he says. He looks up from the papers, his gaze resting on your face. He seems almost sad in a way, something that unnerves you even more. 

“A letter from the place arrived today.”

He said with a monotone voice, leaving the coming words unimaginable. But a letter from the place? This could be either really bad, or really good.

“Piltover is splitting from Zaun next month, out of fear of revolution from the lower class in Zaun. Therefore Zaun shall have a new king, and the palace is asking for your hand in marriage for him.”

Your father looked you in the eyes for the first time that day. He was not a kind man, nor a compassionate one, not by a long shot. But still when your own wide eyes stare back into his you find some sort of sadness. You, no, everyone at the manor knew this day would come, you were a woman in her mid twenties, you were approaching an age where people would start to believe you were barren. Marriage has always been your fate, such is the fate of any noble woman, no, any woman. But still, you had expected to marry some old duke, not a soon to be king. That would make you a queen, a title far above your current one. 

“W-what is his name father..”

You ask hesitantly, almost afraid of the answer. There were many bad men in Zaun. Men who you would not wish upon your worst enemy to marry. Zaun in itself was not something you would wish on your worst enemy. Zaun was mostly occupied by the lower class of Piltover, most people had little to no money, and those who had money had most of what the undercity, as many called it, had to offer. For centuries Zaun had been a part of Piltover, a part that most people ignored. Zaun was a dirty and poor land mass, with bad water and even worse air. The only thing it was good for was oil and the mines. Most of its citizens were miners too, the massive mines needing workers who were willing to die trying to make a living. You had always despised the idea of Zaun, a place where people lived with less than human conditions, a place where people died due to how bad the air was, a place where you had nothing. You had always been taught not to think about Zaun. You were a lady of fine status, it was not of your concern what happened down there. But now it was. 

You would be their king's wife, their queen. And you knew nothing about the land, the people or the culture. Your father looked away from you again, his cold, stoic facade taking over again.

“I do not know him very well, but his name is Vander. He has apparently been a rather large part of the revolution. The king and queen trusts him to be a good ruler and to not cause further problems for Piltover.”

Of course that's what would be important to the king and queen. A docile Zaunite. Someone still willing to be loyal to them, someone they can control. As kind as the king and queen can be, they are still the richest and most powerful people in the country, willing to do anything to protect themselves and their power. Your father returns his attention to the papers in front of him.

“You will be leaving friday.”

He stated flatly, a hand making its way into his neatly styled hair. You knew it was final, it was a request of the king and queen, a way of winning their favour. Not to mention finally marrying you off. You were certain they would pay him handsomely for your hand. So instead of yelling and resisting like you might have done merely a year ago, you do nothing but nod politely. It would not help you to fight, only make your father angry, something you do not want.

“I understand father.. I shall go start packing my things..” 

You curtsey before taking your leave, closing the heavy doors behind you. Tears swell in your eyes as you stand in the hallway, but you force them away, not wanting to cry out in the open. You make your way through the long halls making your way to your room, pushing away the swirl of emotions inside of you. "Why me?” you can't help but think as you reach your room, locking the door behind you. “how am i the best candidate?”  you throw yourself on the bed, the soft sheets and mattress enveloping you. “Out of any suitable maiden, why me? I am not young or submissive, no noble would want me” you let the tears flow freely now, in the safety of your room. You knew that one day you would have to get married. One way or another, but never had you even thought of this. Perhaps it was simply to get rid of the maiden no man ever tried to court. Yes. That made sense, the king and queen knew of your reputation as quite the trouble maker, always the one to scare her suitors off. They had no use of you unmarried, and since no other man wanted you, you were used as a bargaining chip. No matter now. You had two days to pack the things you wished to bring with you, and to say farewells to all of your friends.

The days had been a blur, packing, farewells and lots of lots of tears. You still didn't feel ready to leave, but Friday had arrived and you had no say in the matter. Your father and all of your brothers stood outside, your father as cold and stoic as always, yet a hint of sadness was buried deep in his eyes. Your brothers didn't bother hiding their sadness, the youngest of them, crying openly despite your fathers scolding. You knew he wouldn't punish your brother, this was hard for all of them.

The coachman nodded to your father who took a step forward, his hand held out to help you into the carriage. You had been told they would come to the wedding, but you weren't sure if that was true. You weren't sure of anything. 

“I suppose this is the last time we shall see you for a while.”

His gaze is not on you as he addresses you, he's too stoic to let you see he's hurt. He closes the door to the carriage when you're inside, finally looking at you.

“Don't do anything stupid.” 

He tells you before taking a step back, gesturing to the coachmen to begin driving, then he turns around going back to the manor. The carriage begins to move, and you look out the window as the manor and your family fades into the distance, your brothers waving, your father nowhere to be seen. 

You sink into your seat with a sigh. The dress you had been forced into was close to the most uncomfortable thing you had ever worn. It was an intricate deep blue gown, the colour of Piltover. golden details sewn on. You felt like some kind of doll, though on second thought you kind of were. You look out at the scenery, a swirl of emotions inside of you. You took a deep breath to calm yourself, the journey was still long. No use in winding yourself up now. You pull out a book, a small piece of paper and a pencil from the small bag you had packed with things for the journey. You were going to a completely unknown area with different traditions, not to mention getting married to a man you knew nothing about. The last thing you wished to do was anger someone. So you had brought both a dictionary to try and learn some of the language, and a book on their culture, hoping to learn enough to not make a horrible first appearance. You knew they disliked people from Piltover, and the last thing you wanted was to be like those they disliked. As you read you can't help but think of what type of man your husband to be is, the king and queen trusts him somewhat, so you're not too worried, but he could still be an abusive ass behind closed doors. Or perhaps he was a kind person. You had no clue what he looked like either, was he handsome? Or did he look like a beast? You put all of your attention on your books, trying to push away any negative thoughts of what was to come, knowing it was up to fate.

All you could do now was pray for good luck.

It was late into the evening when you arrived at a small manor near the border, it looked to be on the newer side, as if it was built for the occasion. It probably was all things considered. As you step out of the carriage, trying your best not to step on the dress, you stare at the large parade of guards. You're surprised at just how many there are, you thought this entire thing was under wraps until next week. You push those thoughts back, You're sure everything is going according to plan. A man dressed in a deep blue uniform steps forward and takes your hand, kissing the glove covering it. 

“It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady. I am Vander”

He shoots you a warm smile that makes something in your chest feel both lighter and heavier at the same time. This was your soon to be husband? Well he certainly was not a beast, and he did not seem like a bad man, but only time would tell that. You smile gently back, wanting to make a good first impression.

“It's a pleasure to meet you as well your highness”

You knew he did not yet bear the title of king, but he would soon, and you would rather make a habit of using his correct title. He lets out a hearty laugh, closing the carriage door behind you, letting it drive off. He takes your arm and leads you toward the manor, all of the guards keeping an eye on the two of you. 

“Please just call me vander, i am not yet king and even if i was you wouldn't need to call me by titles, not when we are getting married so soon.” 

A couple of guards follow behind the two of you, you don't know if it's to protect you or vander, but you assume him. You were replaceable, he was not. As vander helps you navigate the new environment, the halls decorated beautifully, but not as intricate as your fathers home, he leads you to a nice warm parlour where tea and cakes have been brought out, all things you recognise. All things from Piltover. You don't doubt this was done specifically for you. 

“Please sit, we have much to talk about”

He guided you to one of the seats, sitting down on the one opposite to you afterwards. You take one of the cups on the table, taking a small sip. And as you sit there, you already know this will take a while.

Thank you for reading!

[skzhocomments]

A Chance of Fate (Lee Know) - Chapter 6 - Grandma's house

Story masterlist - please consult it for the summary of the story, trigger warnings etc.

Wattpad | AO3

Chapter 5 | Chapter 7

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Chapter 6 - Grandma's house

Chapter word count: 3.2k words

True to his word, Minho had everything packed up for your trip as soon as you woke up the next morning.

“Morning, sunshine!” he welcomed you warmly as you made your way down the stairs into the small restaurant.

All the chairs were flipped and on top of the neatly cleaned tables, and Minho stood in the doorway with a small luggage and a bag in front of him, on the floor.

“I was just taking these to the car. I fixed you a plate in the kitchen, please eat before we leave, hm?” He smiled warmly.

“Thank you, Minho.” You returned his smile. “Are those all our bags?”

“Yeah, I just packed some essentials. There’s actually one more bag in the car with some warm clothes and some spare winter jackets, just in case a zipper breaks or something like that.” He explained, his eyes rolling up, a gesture you noticed he always did whenever he was thinking deeply about something.

This told you that he must’ve gone through everything he packed in his head again before answering you.

“Okay, have you also eaten?”

“I did, so don’t worry about me and go have some food.” Minho urged you, and you finally gave in with a small nod and a smile and watched him exit the restaurant.

~

“Okay, there you go.” Minho said as he helped you get into the car and buckled you in.

“So, where exactly are we going?” You asked curiously.

“To my grandma’s house. She lives in a chalet in the mountains. It’s a really beautiful place, and most importantly, quiet.”

“To your… grandma?” You continued, unsure. “But what will she say… when she sees me?”

“She’ll probably be happy that her favourite grandkid found someone and has a kid on the way.” He chuckled nonchalantly. “And then she’ll forget everything in a few minutes. She has dementia. However, for those few minutes she remembers, would you mind fooling her together? Otherwise, she might not get a chance to see this in her lifetime.”

You smiled at him sweetly. “Of course. By the way, you said you’re her fave grandkid, right? How many others does she have?”

“Just me.” He chuckled.

“Not much competition, then.” You chuckled as well, the car soon being engulfed with both of your laughter, a bit louder than Minho’s playlist.

The ride was a few hours long, but Minho made sure you were comfortable every step of the way. You even made a few stops for a quick snack break and for stretching your legs and arms a bit, and you once again found yourself feeling way too grateful for the man you got to know so well in such a short amount of time.

The feeling in your chest was only growing stronger; that scary feeling that would creep in and whisper in your ear that he could, perhaps, be the man you wanted to spend your life with.

It wasn’t fair to him for you to think like that, you knew, but you couldn’t help wishing he were more. You started to love everything about him: the way his nose scrunched, how his eye corners wrinkled when we would smile, the way he made you breakfast every morning, the way he would bend down to help you put on your shoes, how he would scoop up the cats in his arms. He was annoyingly perfect no matter what he’d do, and the way he treated you… let’s just say no one’s ever taken such good care of you before, and you weren’t used to it, and it made your heart skip every time.

Leaving him is going to hurt. You thought, but you realised you couldn’t keep burdening him by taking advantage of his kindness and readiness to help. Even now, watching the wind caress his hair, you kept thinking that he had to close the restaurant and miss out on making a living just to take you out of the house, because you got scared of his ex-girlfriend shouting at you and coming to hit you.

Right, his ex-girlfriend. Thinking about last night, you were truly puzzled. How could that girl throw away her relationship with such a perfect man, you wondered?

“Minho, can I ask you something?” you were now back in the car, already deep in the mountain’s forest, grandma’s house just an hour or so away.

“Sure, go ahead.”

“You said that the girl from last night was your girlfriend and that she left…”

“Mhm.” He nodded. “What about it?”

“I keep thinking… why? She seemed pretty remorseful…”

He sighed.

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer that. Sorry I asked.” Your head dropped and you started fidgeting your fingers nervously, afraid that you'd upset him.

He seemed to notice, and he proved once again that your growing affection for him wasn’t unfounded. He gently placed his hand on top of yours, stopping you from hurting your fingers.

“She got into this wonderful university in America. We were all really happy for her, we celebrated for days after she got her acceptance letter.” He smiled bitterly. “And, of course, I was going to support her with everything I had. I’d just finished Uni myself and used to work for this big international company, I had the 9-5 life down to the notch” he chuckled.

“I imagine it’d fit you.” You smiled. “Were you wearing a suit and briefcase like a model salary man?”

“Dal-Rae.” He looked at you shortly and laughed, before his eyes darted back to the road. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“The restaurant fits you much better though.”

“I also like it way more. My back was getting stiff in the office.”

“I bet.” You smiled sympathetically.

“I really needed one of those massages I’m giving your shoulders every other day.”

“Oh, yeah, the massages! Those are the best.” You chuckled. “With how good you are with your hands, maybe you are a masseur in an alternate universe.”

“Yeah, maybe!” He chuckled.

“But damn, a 9 to 5 job when you like to wake up at 11AM?” You shook your head. “Anyways, sorry for interrupting you.” You laughed briefly, the image of salary man Minho still in your head, as you urged him to keep going.

“Okay. Where were we?”

“She got accepted to a Uni…”

“Oh, right. So, as soon as she left, I promised her I would find a way to follow her. I was ready to uproot my life and find a job overseas, because Dal-Rae, I was so sure I was going to marry that girl.”

His words stung, your heart suddenly growing heavy, not because you were jealous, but because you felt the pain in his voice. That prompted you to turn your hand around and capture his, holding tightly. He returned your hold and clasped your fingers together.

“I started job hunting. I asked at work, they had offices in the US and were willing to offer me a position there, providing that I passed the interview. But as time went by, I would find that Jess barely returned my calls. She stopped replying to my messages entirely after about 3 months of her being away, and the only info about her I found out was from Olivia. They were best friends, and apparently Jess didn’t find it too hard to keep in touch with her.”

“So… was that when you broke up with her?”

“God, I wish. But I stayed a doormat for much longer. I accepted the situation as it was, took her dumb excuses to heart and told her I’d wait no matter how much, but in reality, I was struggling and started to doubt everything. I ended up even losing my job because of a stupid mistake I would’ve never in a million years made if I’d paid attention to anything else around me. I was pathetic, really.”

“Minho, you were never pathetic, please don’t say that about yourself.” Tears were prickling your eyes. “She didn’t deserve you. She must’ve realised that too, since she came crawling back.”

He chuckled. “You know what’s funny? She was never that irrational before. I’m sorry she took it out on you.” He looked at you and frowned a bit, his forehead forming firm lines in between his eyebrows.

“You don’t have to apologise… it must’ve been pretty shocking, especially since she misunderstood seeing me…” You pointed towards your ever-growing belly and were surprised to see Minho letting go of your hand and cupping your belly gently, caressing it.

It was like the baby responded to his touch, because you quickly felt a powerful kick directly under his palm. This seemed to happen every time Minho would touch your bump.

“Ouch” you frowned.

“Baby, you’re gonna hurt mommy if you keep that up.” He whispered, continuing to massage the spot before returning the hand on the wheel.

“I can’t believe she’s going to be here soon.” You whispered as well, making Minho raise a brow at you.

“She? I thought you said you didn’t know?”

“I don’t.” You smiled. “But I just have a feeling that it’s a she… I don’t know why.”

“A baby girl… that’s sweet.” He smiled gently. “What do you want to call her?”

“I don’t know… Haven’t thought much…”

“What about Amelia?” he suggested. “It’s beautiful.”

“Amelia… I love it.” You looked down at your bump and felt tears pricking your eyes again. How you wished you could only have happy memories like this.

Should you tell Minho that you were preparing to leave? That you would no longer weigh down on him?

“Anyway,” he started, “We’re almost there.”

You were glad he interrupted the moment, for you were not ready to face the harsh reality that was to come, and you were not ready to tell him anything.

~

Grandma’s house was bigger than you expected, and, as Minho said, deep into the forest, beautiful mountains covered in snow surrounding it.

He fidgeted the keys in his hands and finally found the one he was looking for, unlocking the front door with ease.

“Grandma! It’s Minho! I’m home! Oh, hello Mrs. Young. Long time no see!” He smiled politely as an older woman came to welcome you, taking Minho into her embrace.

“Minho, what an unexpected sight! Grandma will be very happy to see you! And who might this young lady be?” she smiled brightly, noticing you and your cute baby bump.

“This is Dal-Rae. Dal-Rae, this is Mrs. Young, she takes care of my grandma. She truly has superpowers!” He chuckled, making the lady blush.

“Oh, you’re too sweet! I’m just doing the job you pay me to do!” she smiled, then turned her eyes on you. “You two look very good together! You found yourself a very beautiful girl, Minho. Grandma will be so proud of you. And a baby on the way? Congratulations! I bet you can’t wait to meet the little bean!”

“Yeah, we really can’t wait!” he smiled brightly and placed his hand on the small of your back, the proximity startling you a bit.

“Did you think of names already?”

“Oh, not really, we-”

“Amelia. Her name will be Amelia.” You interrupted Minho and took the liberty to hug his side, smiling, trying to live the fantasy that you were indeed family for just a little while. After all, he’s the one who started it, why not take advantage of it?

It wouldn’t hurt anyone, right?...

“Oh my, Minho! It shows just how much you love your grandma, considering you want to call the baby after her. She will be so happy to hear it, I’m sure.” The woman had tears in her eyes and came closer to the two of you again, taking both into her embrace.

“Now, come on, let’s go visit her as well. I’ve already been away from her long enough.” She wiped her tears from her cheeks and guided you to one of the rooms in the house, at the far end of the hallway.

“Ma’am, your grandkid is here to visit, and he has a special guest!”

“Hey grandma! How are you doing?” Minho spoke cheerfully and approached the lady that was rocking back and forth on a chair and crocheting something, crunching down in front of her. He received no response, the lady not seeming to be aware of anyone else’s presence in the room.

Minho signalled you to come, so you followed his lead and came close to grandma.

“Hello. My name is Dal-Rae.” you introduced yourself shily, not knowing what to expect.

To your surprise, however, she turned to you, as if she suddenly had a revelation.

“Baby.” She smiled, pointing to your belly. “Baby.” She repeated, seemingly happy.

“Yes, grandma, it’s a baby. We’re naming her after you.”

“Hm?” She looked at Minho and then around her, confused about her surroundings. Then, she resumed rocking on the chair and busying her hands with the yarn.

“Sorry, Minho, she’s been getting worse as of late…” Miss Young placed her hand on his shoulder, to which he replied with a simple sigh. “I can assure you she’s glad you’re here, but…”

“No, that’s okay. I’m glad to see her still relatively healthy. We’ll be staying until Monday, if you don’t mind.”

“How could I? This is your home, Minho! Please, let me know if I can do anything to help make your stay more pleasant.”

“No worries, we can handle ourselves just fine.” He got up and came to you, grabbing your hand and guiding you out of the room and down the long hallway.

“Are you okay…?” you asked as soon as Minho opened the door to one of the bedrooms at the other end of the hall. You couldn’t be indifferent to the frown that made its way on his otherwise perfectly composed face.

“… It’s just hard seeing her like that, you know?”

“Mhm. I know…”

“It hurts that she can’t even remember me.”

He took a few steps forward, his back now turned to you, but you heard the pain in his words, no matter how collected his voice sounded.

You weren’t sure what to do – or rather, if what you were about to do was right – but without much thinking, your arms found their way around Minho’s frame, meeting halfway in front of his abdomen, and you embraced him tightly, whispering softly:

“I’m sure it’s hard.”

You rested your head on his back, grateful that he didn’t reject you.

“And I’m sure it hurts badly. But even if she doesn’t always remember you, you’re still her favourite.”

You continued speaking gently, hearing a small sniffle come from him.

“It will be okay.” You whispered.

“It won’t… I don’t think she has much left, Dal-Rae …”

“Then, I’m glad we came. You got to see her again after all this time, so the trip was worth it, right?”

“What will I do once she…? I will be all alone…”

“You won’t... look at you, you have so many friends… Jisung, Chris, Hyunjin… everyone cares about you so much… you will never be alone, Minho, there are so many people who love you and treasure you.”

“You think so?”

“Mm. I know so. I saw it.” You smiled genuinely. “I’m even jealous, I wish I had such real friends.”

“Dal-Rae.” he took your arms away gently and turned to face you. Traces of wet tears painted his now rosy cheeks, and you couldn’t help placing your hands on them, wiping everything away. You wished things were this easy; that you could’ve wiped away all his pain with just your fingertips.

This gesture seemed to shock both of you, as you quickly retracted your hands and smiled briefly, looking at your feet on the ground and starting to feel stupid for harbouring so many feelings for him.

It wasn’t right. You kept telling yourself that.

It wasn’t.

But how could it be any other way, when he’s been the centre of your universe ever since you stepped foot in his restaurant, ever since he selflessly offered you food and a place to sleep, ever since he treated you and the baby inside of you like his own family?

Fuck, how could it be any other way?

How couldn’t you love him?

Love… yes. You finally gave it a name. You couldn’t avoid it any longer. It was already real for far too long for you to try to keep ignoring it.

It was love. You loved him.

“Dal-Rae,” he said once again, drawing your attention back to him.

“Hm?” you asked, unsure.

“Thank you.” He grabbed your hands and held them firmly. “Thank you for saying that. Are you also one of those people?”

He was the one to grab your face this time, wiping tears away from your cheeks. You didn’t even realise you’ve been crying. The only thing you knew was that it hurt seeing Minho like that.

“Of course I am, Minho. How could I not be? To me, you are…” everything – you wanted to say, but the possibility of rejection frightened you too much. It once again felt too unfair to dump your feelings on him, to force them down his throat, you considered. – “… a very important part of my life. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me and I… I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

It was true, you didn’t know. You also didn’t know what you were going to do without him in the future, when you would leave – in just a few weeks, before the birth.

You didn’t know, nor did you want to think about it, for it made your heart break harder than it ever did until now, and God knows you had your fair share of pain and suffering.

“You are very dear to me, too.” He replied, moving his hands from your cheeks to your hands, squeezing them. “And I hope you know that I will always be a real friend to you. I will be there for you when you need me. Always.”

That was it. Hearing him say that out loud managed to finally tear down your walls and make you break down in front of him. If up until now, you’ve been crying silently for his pain, his words made you sob loudly for your own.

You wanted to tell him everything, to confess your love for him, but you knew you couldn’t. Instead, you just sobbed.

Sobbed, sobbed, sobbed, unable to stop the tears from falling.

“I- I’m sorry, I’m just so… touched. I can’t thank you enough, and…”

“Shhh, that’s okay.” This time, he was the one to embrace you tightly, caressing your head, trying to get you to calm down.

He placed one hand on your cheek again and lifted your head. The proximity of your faces made your heart beat so quickly, so irregularly, you were afraid it would jump out of your chest.

Glancing deeply into his brown eyes, you felt safe and content that he was at least your friend. Having him as a friend was better than not having him at all.

His eyes were also fixated on yours. What he was thinking – you wouldn’t know. But you made a terrible mistake, your gaze dropping to his lips that were so close to your own, it made you dizzy. You were quick to realise your mistake, bringing your eyes back to his, but it was far too late, for the damage was already done - you became flustered, and he noticed.

And then, just as you were thinking of what to say to get out of his proximity, to get some room to breathe before your cheeks turned even redder than they definitely were – he pressed his lips firmly on yours.

God only knows how much you wished for his kiss, so, as unfairly as you felt it was towards him, you allowed yourself to close your eyes and kiss him back.

Just this time, you thought, and I will let him go.

~

Chapter 5 | Chapter 7