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yooglefics · 2 months

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hii! its been a few days since i found u and i love ur writing and stories!! could i request a fic where yoongi and (possibly) female reader have a fight over jealousy (its either her or him or both even idk) and its a little angsty idk but then they make up and its all fluffy 🤓🤓 thank u in advance luv

Hellooo. Thank you so much for your kind words and for requesting this! I really enjoyed writing this pair and some angst, I did a hint of both being jealousy, but is mostly him haha. Sorry it took me a while to finally post it, but I wanted it to be good, and I hope you like it!

Jealous, jealousy

Pairing: Min Yoongi x fem!reader Wordcount: 2,467 words Genre: AU. Established relationship. Angst and comfort / fluff. Summary: Jealousy has never been a problem in your relationship, not until a comment can't leave Yoongi's mind and interactions at your office’s party just make it worse. Content warnings under read more.

Includes: Jealous Yoongi. People thinking there's something between Jin and Reader… even Yoongi. Miscommunication. They argue. And then they're cute.

It all starts with the perilla leave question between Yoongi's friends one night out and a few rounds of soju in. As a self-identified non-jealous person, his answer was that it didn't mean anything, and even told the story about how it happened a few days ago when your coworker joined you two for lunch.

Jungkook, the non-identified most jealous person of the group, had obviously called him stupid. Questioned him about that guy and told him to be careful. “If I were you, Yoongi, I'd keep my eye on him.”

Little rascal; didn't even bother to use honorifics with him anymore.

But the worst thing is that the idea is now on his head and not even Yoongi knows how bad it is about to get as he steps into your office party a few weeks later. Now having the opportunity to see his girlfriend and her favorite coworker interact more in a familiar environment.

Even the ones who don't know Yoongi a lot, know he can be pretty reserved around new people, that's why you continue to make your polite round of interactions after saying hi and leaving him at a table with a whiskey and snacks. Promising to come back as soon as possible.

He looks at you across the room, all professional and sweet, the queen of small talk and polite smiles, and one forms on his own lips without realizing. Only doing so when it's erased as someone greets him, sitting down beside him and he tries to follow your steps at looking, at least, a bit cordial.

“I don't think I've seen you before. Are you here with ( y / n ) or Seokjin?”

“Yes, with ( y / n ).”

“Really?” She sounds genuinely surprised, “I didn't know she was inviting someone.”

“Well, I like supporting her, don't really need the invitation” he chuckles a bit awkwardly, “I'm her boyfriend.”

“Oh, so she is dating someone?” Again, the surprise in her tone makes Yoongi believe is a true emotion, and that confuses him.

“For a few years now, yes.”

“And here I was thinking that those two were going to be the next office romance,” she says sounding disappointed before realizing, “oh my— not that it's bad they don't, just… they are both attractive and you know…”

«Is that supposed to make it better?», he wants to ask, but instead he laughs, trying to dismiss everything as her hand lays on his forearm that is resting on the table, trying to reassure him as she goes on about him being handsome too and whatnot.

He stopped listening now. Because after that interaction, one hour seems long enough when half of that you have spent besides that guy, and Jungkook's words keep growing in his head as if he were watering them with the sweet alcohol. The one he has to switch hands to sip from now, because your coworker keeps the other prisoner of her hand.

Not even the excuse ( that is actually not really an excuse because he needs it ) to get a refill works and she only stops rambling his ear off when someone arrives at the place and she finally leaves the table to greet them.

“I saw you made a friend,” your sweet smile is almost enough to make him forget his thoughts when he is joined by you at the bar while ordering another whiskey.

“Well, figure I should while you had fun with yours.” he shrugs in an effort to dismiss negative feelings.

“Wait, did you actually make friends with her?” is your turn to sound surprised, corners of your mouth falling a little.

“Is a problem if I did?”

“I… I mean, I was joking but I don't like her very much. You can make friends with other people, though.”

“Ah, thanks for the clear up.” He walks back to the table to sit down, and even he can acknowledge it was a weird response, so, your next question doesn’t shock him.

“Are you okay?”

“What if I made friends with your best friend, what's his name?” he asks instead. Comments from others blurring his psyche, making him act without much thinking.

“Jin?”

“Is that his name? She called him Seokjin”

“Well, Seokjin, Jin for short. What's the big deal?”

“Nothing. Just… that's what she said when she asked who I was here with,” he explains before taking a sip.

“Of course she asked you that,” and eye roll accompanies your words.

“Yeah, because apparently you didn't say you invited your boyfriend.” but he thinks there is more important matters than you not liking your coworker. “As a matter of fact she didn't know you had a boyfriend.”

“Because is none of her business. She doesn't need to know about my relationship.”

“She does when she is talking about you and Seokjin having a romance.”

“What?!”

“Sorry. You and Jin.”

“Shut up, you know that's not what I meant. Can't believe she said that.” You steal a sip from his whiskey before continuing, “No actually, I can.”

He buffs. “You can?”

“Yeah, I told you, she is… not likable.”

“Just that? Not because it would be believable for you two to be together?” He asks, his annoyance clearer as seconds go by.

“Jin and I? Please, that's ridiculous.”

“Okay.”

“Why? Are you jealous?” You inquire, playfully. As if it would be impossible to be true.

“Yes.”

“Wait. Really?! But you have never been jealous.”

“Maybe I am now.”

“Because of Jin?” you’re confused at how serious he is being, but before you can question more about it, you’re interrupted by said guy.

“Oh, I was summoned. Hi.” he greets your partner, so casually since he doesn’t realize Yoongi is mad with him too. “Can you come back? I don't want to interact with those people alone.”

You look at your co-worker and friend for a few seconds, and then to your boyfriend, trying to understand what is happening and if he is actually jealous. Him, Min Yoongi, the less jealous person you’ve ever met.

“Go, have fun.” Your boyfriend encourages you, managing a smile that only confuses you more because is clear to you that it’s not genuine.

What the hell is happening?

You’re surrounded with interactions the rest of the night, from your co-workers to their partners, people seem interested in Jin and you, after all, it’s the first big party since the both of you joined the company. Even when you go back to sit with Yoongi people get close to make conversation, one person actually asks about wedding planing and tells you she can get you in contact with someone. You know she means well so, with your best smile, you thank her and change the subject.

You hate those conversations.

Having spent your childhood between your parents’ fights because «staying together for their kids» was a priority, when in reality it only made it worse for everyone involved, you grew up hating the idea of getting married. You understand it is for love, but you don't need a paper or a big party to announce that you love Yoongi. You don't need a ring on your finger to promise you'll do it forever. You don't need him to propose, let alone ask your parents permission to do so.

Is your life, your decisions. The only opinion that matters other than yours is Yoongi's and he has always understood, never pressured you. He is the love of your life, after all.

In the car on the way home, the silence is filled with music from the stereo and you try to take Yoongi’s hand on the gear lever as always, but only a couple of seconds pass before he pulls away, both hands on the wheel now.

Trying to figure out if it was on purpose, you ask, “What are you thinking about?”

“You spend a lot of time with him,” he says without a beat.

“You told me to go.”

“I mean in general.”

“We work together, can't really do much about that.”

“You weren't working tonight and still it was like you were joined at the hip.” he hasn’t looked at you and you can’t decide if it hurts or bothers you more.

“Again, you told me to go at the end,” you argue. “ If you wanted me to stay with you, you could have said so.”

“Now I have to ask you to spend time with me?”

“Well, I can’t read your mind, honey.” you poke his cheek, softly. An attempt to lighten the mood a little.

“That’s not the point.” His tone is just as serious. And then you know that, whatever this is, it’s deeper than you thought.

“What is it then?” you genuinely ask, annoyance starting to build up inside you, but trying to stay calm. Surely he can tell, you think. “You’re clearly upset, but why?”

“Shouldn't I be? When my girlfriend keeps hanging out with this good-looking dude and everyone thinks they could be a thing?”

“Really?” How can he even entertain those thoughts? You with another man? Doesn’t he hear how ridiculous it sounds? “Shouldn't I be upset because you let her touch your arm for like five minutes straight?”

“She was trying to console me.”

“Yeah, that actually makes it worse, Yoongi.”

“Yoongi?”

“That's your name.” He finally looks your way, but you’re looking at the road ahead of you and he can’t tell it is just in order to calm down.

“Wait. Why are you turning things on me?”

“Because you're being irrational and I'm not having this conversation.”

Once again the music is the only sound filling the air, and you opt for folding your arms in front of your chest to stop you from reaching for his hand again.

Now both of you are mad. Great.

Arriving home, he still gets out of the car first to open the door for you, and it helps soften the heartache a little. But still, the night repeats in your head, trying to understand what happened.

Why suddenly spending time with Jin is a problem? Why is Yoongi so jealous about it? And why—

“You let her touch you after she said Jin and I had a thing?” you ask as both of you are finally in the bedroom, getting ready to end the night.

“Thought we weren't having this conversation.”

“No. This one is different. This one is about you potentially doing things because you were upset with me.”

“That would be stupid.” He stops his movements, shirt unbuttoned just halfway through. “Why would I do that?”

“I don't know, you aren't exactly acting like yourself tonight.”

“Because I'm jealous?”

“Because we are fighting about you being jealous.” And trying to calm down once again, you continue taking your dress off, struggling with the zipper but too proud to ask him for help right now.

“Okay, let's not fight, then.” He sits down on his side of the bed. “Just answer this question: do you like him?”

“Yoongi—”

“Just answer. Please.” when you finally turn to him, the look on his face is different from what you expected. He doesn't seem angry, but hurt. Like your answer could break him.

“Of course not. Not like that.” You emphasize. Giving up on your clothes and kneeling in front of him, taking a breath before continuing. “You know we started at the same time and he is always nice and fun, I think he is my only friend at work because everyone else keeps asking me when I'm going to get married and leave. Like your friend.”

“What?”

“The lady you were talking to. Is always asking personal questions and I don't like it. Not because I don't like talking about you, I love you and I talk with Jin about you all the time, but is just…”

“Not her business. And you don't have to explain yourself to others.” he completes. Yoongi is the first to always remind you that after all.

“Exactly.”

“Sorry.” he is quick to say, feeling like an asshole now, a hand running through his hair, messing it up, “I really don’t know what is up with me tonight, I’m sorry.”

“Were you actually jealous of Jin?” the disbelief in your voice is funny now, and he nods with a chuckle. “That’s surprising coming from you.”

“I know. Is dumb.”

“Hey, don’t say that,” you move closer to him, hands on his shoulders to make him look at you, “your feelings are not dumb, Yoongi.”

“Can you stop calling me by my name tonight?”

“Sorry,” both of you laugh softly, “but I mean it. Even if it’s irrational to be jealous of anyone because I love you so very much and wouldn’t even dream to be with someone else; your feelings are important, honey. Just… you know, we have to work on a better way of expressing them.”

He chuckles again, still feeling bad about it all but appreciating the reassurance. “I will, promise. I just never felt like this before, is… weird.”

Yoongi has always thought jealousy is stupid. He understands feeling insecure and all that, but acting like he did tonight has always been something he didn’t understand. Something he judged. He thought it was about bad communication, distrusting your partner, and things like that. And, if you don’t trust the person you love, does it make sense to be together? But maybe is not as simple as that.

He didn't care if you had your own friends and went out with them, like some of the people he knows do. He has his own opinion on marriage and engagement rings. But maybe he cares in other ways. Maybe he cares about people thinking you're with someone else because that's probably his biggest fear.

“I don’t like jealousy.” he speaks again, bringing his arms around your waist, hugging you close and resting his head against your torso.

“Good, that means you are not toxic.” A pause while your hand combs through his hair, putting black strains back in place, “and now you know how I feel when people hit on you.”

“People don’t do that.”

“They do,” he looks up at you, but before he can argue anything, you cup his face and bend a little to peck his lips, softly. “I’m sorry for leaving you alone with her and without a warning.”

“I tried to get away but she wouldn't let go of my arm and I didn't want to be rude.”

His bottom lip sticks out in a small pout and you kiss it away, “Yoonie, sometimes you’re too nice for your own good.”

“Maybe I should be just nice to you.”

“You're too nice for that,” he rolls his eyes, making you laugh even more, “that's why I love you.”

“I love you more, baby.”

Protect them 🥺 Let me know what you think. comment, reblog, send an ask, follow or whatnot. Thank you for reading <3 ♡ Tag list: @n33mesis , @sexytholland , @mggv97 , @wobblewobble822 , @bbou-doir , @m00njinnie , @itsmina29 , @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d , @nariee02 , @ktownshizzle , @kimtaehussy .

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tsukimefuku · 4 months

Text

CHAPTER TWO: MISTAKE OF FACT ❀ HIGURUMA SENSEI SERIES

masterlist link | mdni!

❀ mistake of fact.

the concept “mistake of fact” describes a situation in which someone acts unaware of circumstances that could turn their actions into criminal acts. this can affect the assessment of their intent or culpability, reducing their penalty or even excluding the criminal nature of said act.

wc: 7.2K | ❀ pairing for the series: professor!higuruma x student!reader

❀ summary.

classes, law Firm meetings, and a little grit about it all. after taking and not doing so well on your first criminal law class assessment test, you decide to get hammered at the campus party. you just didn’t expect to accidentally bump into the professor of said class there.

❀ tags and c/w.

non-curse au. college au. silly slow-burn rom-com between professor and college student (this is purely a work of fiction, okay guys?). smoking and drinking. corporate trauma. itafushi is also a slow-burn. higuruma hates doing cardio (mood). nanami needed a subplot and kusakabe had to be in it, the voices told me so. exams suck. campus parties are a special kind of hell. the return of the ugly red scarf.

❀ notes etc.

as i said previously, some characters will have their subplots, hope you enjoy reading them too (they all tie into the main plot). yes I’m working through some issues regarding the lawyering world while writing this fic, how did you notice?

also, some love for the betas: @redlikerozez and @dottedsilktie thank you two so much 💛

You had a habit, a very ugly one. Ironically, the habit you used to unwind was currently driving you insane as you tapped around your pockets, failing to find the lighter for the cigarette you held in your mouth for the past two minutes. You stroked your bangs back in annoyance and grunted, a strand of hair poking up like a spike.

“Fucking hell,” you muttered to yourself the moment the bells went off, letting you know it was time for yet another Criminal Law class. At least this time you managed to wake up somewhat early and were already by the building.

Good job, me.

“Oh, hey!” you heard the light-hearted voice chirp from a distance. Darting your eyes towards it, there came the fluffy ball of pink hair and upbeat mood frolicking in your direction.

“Hey, Itadori! Do you by any chance have a lighter?”

He shrugged, “no, I’m sorry.”

Of course he didn’t. As the best track field runner you had ever met, you wondered if Itadori even knew what a cigarette was.

“You should stop smoking,” a broodier voice said. You noticed the spiky black hair student who was also approaching.

“Ah, get off my case, Fushiguro,” you retorted, putting your cigarette away, “which class are you guys here for?”

“Criminal law! And you?” Itadori replied.

“Oh, me too. I didn’t see you guys in his class last week, though.”

“We saw you!” Yuuji answered, completely oblivious that this was definitely something which would render you uncomfortable. You blushed, and after a few seconds, Fushiguro elbowed him. “Ouch, why did you do that?”

Fushiguro sighed loudly at his friend’s cluelessness, and you sheepishly giggled.

“Yeah… I guess everybody saw me.”

The three of you were sharing an uncomfortable silence for a few moments before Itadori spoke again.

“So… Why isn’t Kugisaki enrolled?”

You shrugged, “she wanted to have other classes during this year to fast track her internship opportunities, I guess. I kind of did the same thing.”

“Is that allowed?” Yuuji inquired.

“Yeah, it is, as long as you take some other 101 classes before doing it,” you answered, while you three began walking into the building.

“I did that too, I want to pursue an internship in the public defense office as soon as possible,” Megumi interjected.

“Oh, nice! Me too,” you answered him, “but I’d totally take a position in a private law firm if given the chance.”

Fushiguro made a face you couldn’t quite identify, and didn’t answer anything in return.

The conversation about an internship in criminal defense died down as the three of you entered the elevator together, and while you were walking towards the classroom, Yuuji and Megumi began bantering.

More specifically, Itadori seemed keen on making small-talk about amenities, meanwhile Fushiguro simply did not take the hint and was shooting down every conversation topic his friend tried to bring up. You felt for Yuuji, noticing he was clearly eager to engage Megumi in a conversation, but the guy wouldn’t budge. At that point, you entertained Itadori for the remainder of the quick walk down the corridor.

Perhaps, you thought to yourself, Megumi was the clueless one.

Entering the classroom, you saw Professor Higuruma already seated by his desk fidgeting around with his glasses. This time, there was no suit jacket in sight, and he wore a white buttoned up shirt with a black tie, all under a suit vest.

You weren’t too proud to realize that you noticed the way his vest hugged his torso just right.

To top it off, after he was finished fidgeting with his glasses, Higuruma opened the cuffs of his white shirt, rolled up the sleeves up to his elbows, and slightly loosened his tie with two fingers hooked around it.

The way his arm muscles popped while he was sliding his fingers side to side around the fabric of the tie had every thought in your head poofing away instantly, and you looked away before your staring became too obvious.

The other students were coming in quickly. You made your way towards three miraculously empty seats in the front and sat on one end, while the boys took their places right beside you.

Higuruma noticed you and nodded softly as you met his eyes. You weren’t sure if he’d remember your face, but given the circumstances, it’d probably be hard not to. You greeted him back, smiling, and gestured around your regular-not-pajamas blouse, to which he replied by discreetly gesturing down his clean, not-coffee stained white buttoned up shirt.

Cute.

This time you thought that maybe sitting in the front would keep you safe from the Professor’s experiments. You had already tested your luck sitting in the back and it surely backfired — no pun intended.

After the students were settled, Higuruma got himself up and walked towards the white board, writing self-defense on it. He then turned on his heels, shoved his hands in his pockets and asked, “can anybody tell me what self-defense is?”

From your row, only Megumi raised his hand, but Higuruma’s eyes landed on Yuuji.

“You. What’s your name?” the Professor inquired, pointing at Itadori.

You heard him gulping by your side at that very same moment.

“Itadori Yuuji.”

“Then, Itadori, tell me what you think self-defense is.”

“I mean… self-defense is protecting yourself from someone trying to hurt you.”

Higuruma nodded, “you’re on the right track, but that’s not the entire answer. There is still something missing. Criminal Law occupies itself with criminal activities, so why do we need to study acts taken under self-defense? What else can you tell me about self-defense?”

Yuuji didn’t come up with something else to say, so Higuruma lifted the whiteboard marker in front of him.

“Itadori, I’ll throw this at you now.”

You and Megumi were instantly shocked, and Itadori began stuttering.

“W-wha-”

Higuruma actually threw the marker towards Yuuji’s chest, but Yuuji quickly grabbed it, glancing incredulously at the Professor.

“Now, that wasn’t self-defense in the way that it interests Criminal Law,” Higuruma noted, resuming the class as if nothing had happened.

Truth was, you could try sitting in the back, in the front, or anywhere in between, but when it came to Higuruma Hiromi’s class, apparently, there was no safe place to hide.

“It wasn’t?!” Itadori exclaimed.

“No. Self-defense, you see, is used to exclude the illegal quality of an action that would otherwise be considered a crime, like assault and battery, for example.”

Higuruma stepped into Yuuji’s direction, and excused himself as he picked the marker back in his hand, leaving the three of you dumbfounded as to how he could nonchalantly do these absurd things and think it was just alright.

The professor began writing on the white board and the classroom was filled with scribbling and typing sounds.

“Self-defense is when someone uses force, against another person, to protect themselves from harm or imminent danger offered by this other person’s criminal actions. In that sense, you didn’t use force against me, you solely protected yourself, hence, that’s not actually self-defense as the concept that matters to us in this classroom.”

Well, the example was crystal clear, indeed. Once again, he illustrated what he wanted to say brilliantly.

But holy shit, did he really have to do those crazy things every damn time?

“Before we proceed, I have some leisure homework for you all. I’d like everybody to watch the first three episodes of this TV series for us to discuss during our next lecture the evolution from legitimate self-defense to extrapolating it and finally committing a crime.”

He wrote the name for the show on the white board.

A shy hand lifted on the other end of the class, and a girl with blue hair and crooked bangs spoke after Higuruma pointed at her.

“Professor, won’t you ask us to watch one of those old movies other teachers usually do in introductory classes?”

“Most definitely not,” he answered — not without scoffing first, “this is Criminal Law, here things are interesting. If you’d like to sleep, go to Professor Nanami’s class, Commercial Law I.”

A tiny chuckle echoed from the back.

“Someone gets it,” he concluded before proceeding with the lecture.

The class went on without a hiccup with Yuuji quickly forgetting the marker debacle a few minutes in. After Higuruma was finished talking about the day’s topic, though, he remembered everyone about next week's assessment test, receiving mumbled complaints in return.

“Yeah, I know. I hate these things too, but unfortunately we have orders from above. Be sure to study everything up until the end of the self-defense module,” Higuruma said as he sank into his desk’s chair and fished his phone out of his pocket, “I wish you all best of luck.”

As the class was done, everyone began leaving.

“So, where are you going now?” Yuuji asked as you were currently fumbling around in your bag looking for your lighter — perhaps it wasn’t in your pockets after all, right?

“I… if you two are tight on time just go without me, I’m looking for something in here and it might take some time,” you answered, thinking that some physics law might’ve been broken. Your bag seemed larger from the inside than from outside, and your lighter had surely disintegrated into thin air.

“It’s fine, we can wait,” Fushiguro answered.

Yuuji suddenly seemed to remember something and came at you sort of hyped, asking “will you be at the campus party by the end of next week?!”

“Sure, sure,” you answered absentmindedly, still fondling your things around and considering flipping it all on the ground.

“There will be a party next week on campus?” Higuruma asked with his eyes still glued to his phone’s screen.

Fushiguro elbowed Yuuji again, as it was kind of a secret from faculty members, just so none of them would butt in — there were the clueless ones, like Professor Gojo, for instance, that would always find their way into the free drinks and free food celebrations that were supposedly just for students.

“Y-Yes… it will be pretty late, though.”

Higuruma hummed, completely unfazed, “when I was a student here, we’d usually have those after 11PM to avoid faculty members, it’s a good idea. My suggestion is that you all just keep the noise down and use the space behind the brown brick building, there’s a blind spot there from the rest of the campus.”

Yuuji and Megumi shared a look before nodding hesitantly. Higuruma noticed they were both somewhat worried and sighed.

“Don’t worry, I’m not telling the other Professors, and you can all be completely sure I won’t be there.”

The bated breath the two students shared finally subsided.

“God fucking damnit where is this fucking lighter?” you mumbled to yourself.

That caught Higuruma’s attention, and he called your name.

Your hand stammered inside your bag and you looked at him.

“Do you need a lighter?” he asked you, lifting his eyes from his phone towards your direction.

You had the impression his eye bags were smaller that day.

“Yes, I lost mine.”

He reached into one of his pockets and pulled a small, yellow, disposable lighter, stretching his arm in your direction, “you can take this one, I have tons of these.”

You got up, threw your bag over your shoulder, and went to pick it up from his hands. As your fingers wrapped around the lighter, you accidentally locked eyes with him, now sure his eye bags were definitely smaller. Higuruma spared you a small smile and you immediately felt your cheeks warm as you took the tiny yellow lighter from his fingers and stepped back.

I’m pathetic.

“So, we’re good to go?” Fushiguro asked, looking at you.

“We’re good to go,” you answered him, then looking at Higuruma, “thank you, Professor.”

“It’s no trouble, Sanrio” he answered, redirecting his attention back to his phone, completely unaware he had just called you that out loud.

After a few seconds, realizing what he'd just done, Higuruma sheepishly lifted his eyes, seeing two confused boys and you looking away with your hand over your mouth, coughing softly. You bore the same weirdly twisted face you made days before, when he asked you to leave in the mock expulsion.

Truth was you wanted to laugh, equal parts amused and mortified.

“Sanrio? What?” Yuuji asked.

“My next class is Civil Law II! What about you, Fushiguro? We should go!” you blurted out, ignoring Yuuji’s question while stepping away, “bye, Professor. See you next class!”

“You three have a good day,” Higuruma muttered, sinking further into his chair as he looked away to conceal his own embarrassment.

The boys, still at a loss, followed you outside, also bidding Higuruma a good day.

***

This is hell. I’m a smoker and this is my personal, dantesque circle of hell for that sin.

With one leg launching in front of the other at a steady pace, Higuruma was jogging down the street while accompanied solely by the rhythmic thuds of his feet on the pavement. He had already put at least a mile behind him.

His blood felt like battery acid pumping through his veins, and lungs and muscles were burning with the strain of an exercise he was doing for the third time this week thanks to the encouragement of his best friend.

This time, however, there was no distraction from the discomfort while Higuruma dragged himself completely alone on this morning run. His usual jogging partner, Nanami, told him just ten minutes before the scheduled time that he would not be able to make it.

“Did something happen?” Higuruma asked on the phone, “It’s unlike you to cancel appointments with such short notice.”

Truthfully, Nanami was someone extremely considerate of other people’s time.

“Nothing too serious. I’ll have to be in a meeting with a Labor Law associate. It involves one of the companies we represent here at the firm,” he replied with an involuntary sigh. Nanami did not enjoy being taken by surprise like this.

“A meeting for one of those Union settlements?”

“Yes.”

“Yeesh, good luck with that. Don’t be too harsh on the workers, though.”

“I’ll just be there to oversee the meeting and report the outcome to our client, I have no say in the matter.”

“Really? Couldn’t the Labor Law associate do that, then?”

“It’s Kusakabe. He doesn’t do anything he’s not specifically paid to do.”

“Oh, right.”

Higuruma paused for a moment. He was already at their usual meeting point, all propped up and ready to go, but didn’t quite feel like subjecting himself to that torture alone.

“You should just do your run today, I’ll join you back after tomorrow,” Nanami told him, as if reading his mind.

“I don’t know. Having company makes this slightly more bearable.”

“Is that so?” Nanami barely concealed the hint of amusement in his voice.

“Tsk, shut up.” Higuruma retorted.

Nanami huffed, nearly a chuckle, and proceeded, “this routine seems to have affected you positively, you shouldn’t miss a day for such a pedestrian reason.”

It was true. As a consolation prize for this suffering, the Professor had managed to sleep better those past few days and his mood had improved too.

Prior to his breakdown, Higuruma had never given much thought about his overall health. After he came back to normal life — or as normal as it could be —, he tried to eat properly and exercise at the gym most days of the week.

“I guess,” Higuruma finally conceded, defeated, loathing cardio with every fiber of his being.

“Then, off you go.”

“Okay. I’ll run and suffer alone today after being ditched,” Higuruma stated, half in jest.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Hiromi,” Nanami remarked, “you can do it just fine.”

Just fine… I’m not sure if “fine” is the word I’d choose for this self-imposed torture.

Taking one of the final turns, Higuruma passed by a storefront. On it, there was a big illustration of Hello Kitty that covered most of the space. He hadn’t noticed that store before, but seeing the cartoonish cat with its pink bow brought an amused smile to his face as he remembered the student that, for some random reason, decided to attend his class using a kitty’s pajamas — you.

That moment got him to reminisce on the occasions that he, himself, was also too tired or too out of it to properly change before going to class, leading to some similar debacles during his undergrad years.

Ever since that day, the Professor had nicknamed you Sanrio in his head, a silly inside joke with himself.

As he reached the end of the usual route, Higuruma paused and hunched over, inhaling deeply through his mouth, oxygen failing to properly enter his cells — or at least it felt like it.

I wonder if I can take a taxi to go back home...

Involuntarily hearing Nanami’s voice in his head chastising him for wanting to take the easy shortcut, Higuruma grunted and took a deep breath before jogging his way back.

***

Nanami churned on his coffee’s last sip as if that alone would be enough to realign his chakras and soothe his growing headache.

It wasn’t.

Nanami rarely saw himself pulled into other people’s work, but he detested each and every time it happened. As someone that usually planned his day thoroughly, with every minute properly accounted for, these types of unforeseen events would, most times, end up causing a domino effect over everything he had arranged in his schedule.

This time, however, he wasn’t sure if his distaste for the situation stemmed solely from the fact that his agenda got fondled around.

Something else about it was bothering him, even if he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

The contrast on the meeting table was clear — on the company’s side, he sat with Kusakabe, at least three mid-level associates, two juniors and one random intern. Behind them, the firm’s logo hung high on the wall, casting its brushed steel sheen over the expensive mahogany table.

On the other side, though, sat an Union representative with one single lawyer beside him. Since the firm had rescheduled this meeting on short notice four times, demanding it took place in one of their offices — which was everything but close to where the union-office was located —, the Union only had enough money to pay for the expenses of sending the minimum amount of people required to legally sign a settlement.

Nanami slowly realized, as the negotiations went on, what was bothering him so much.

This wasn’t a negotiation meeting.

It was a power play consisting of intimidation techniques. Clearly an attempt at wearing the Union down and pushing them into accepting any settlement to end the strike as soon as possible.

It all said we can take you on — if you don’t accept our offer and take this to Court, we have the money, the people and the ways to win this fight.

“These are our terms, as we had already discussed, printed and ready for you to sign,” Kusakabe remarked, as he pushed a pile of papers towards the two.

The Union representative seemed ready to crumble under a put-upon expression, his black hair parted in the middle and thick framed glasses not doing nearly enough to conceal it. He knew exactly what was going on, how this had happened, and also that this strike couldn’t go on for much longer without causing serious issues in the lives of all the workers.

The company was successful in their attempt of making it look like they tried to settle the dispute, and it had been long enough that people would start falling like dominos in the firing list.

The blond woman beside him seemed ready to toss her attorney’s license in the nearest dumpster and go do something else with her life.

The Union representative took the pen in his hand and sighed.

“Are you positive you want to do this, Ijichi?” the lawyer asked, looking at him with a tinge of concern in between her brows.

“We don’t have another choice, Nitta,” he replied, signing those papers away so quickly it felt like his hands were about to get burned in the fiery pits of hell.

She exhaled sharply while leaning back on her chair.

“I’m glad we got to settle this amicably. We expect you all back on the grounds by Monday,” Kusakabe concluded as he pulled the pile of papers back to him and lifted himself up on the chair.

Everyone got up, but when Kusakabe extended his hand towards Nitta, she and Ijichi just turned around, stepping towards the exit.

Nanami’s slight discomfort had grown into an actual stone weighing in his gut, and he didn’t quite think about what he ended up doing next.

He walked behind Nitta and Ijichi, and called them by their names — something that surprised them both, given they didn’t expect him and most of the people inside that meeting room to be paying any attention at all.

“So, you did listen to that meeting and weren't there just to add numbers?” Nitta asked begrudgingly.

“I did,” Nanami answered.

“What do you want?” Ijichi inquired, itching to get himself out of that building as quickly as possible. He felt dirty, to say the least, and needed a minimum of three full baths to feel like himself again.

“To give you both my business card.”

Both of them looked incredulous.

“I don’t mean any harm nor am I trying to get something out of a terrible situation. I just... That was...”

He really didn’t think this through.

“What I mean to say is that if there is anything you both need, this is my contact info.”

Nanami pulled the slim piece of cardstock and offered it. Ijichi and Nitta shared a hesitant look right before she took it from his hands. With a bow, both of them left, still feeling a little dumbfounded.

“Are you trying to get yourself in trouble? You’ve made it to Partner in the firm, leave it alone,” a slightly muffled voice echoed behind Nanami. It was Kusakabe, who had just shoved a lollipop in his mouth and had his hands inside his pockets.

“That didn’t bother you at all?” Nanami inquired, gesturing towards the now emptying meeting room.

“I’m not paid to get bothered. I come, I do my job, and I go home.”

“Still,” Nanami remarked, “it was...”

“I know,” Kusakabe answered him. He took a few moments before sighing, leaning himself against a wall, and repeated in a lower tone, “I know.”

For the briefest moment, Kusakabe’s expression resembled a slight grimace.

“You don’t seem completely unbothered, even if you’re not getting paid to care,” Nanami stated.

Kusakabe looked at Nanami and said nothing as they made their way back into their respective offices.

***

Higuruma also had a bad habit.

Due to his terrible memory regarding people’s names, he gave everyone a nickname in his mind. Beyond calling you Sanrio, his nicknames for the pink haired fluffy guy and the brooding dude always by his side were, respectively, Clueless and Porcupine.

At that moment, he watched as Sanrio, Clueless and Porcupine sat beside one another while taking their first assessment test for the Criminal Law class.

You were so laser focused on the test, eyes darting from one end to the other of the paper frantically, hand periodically brushing your bangs back in desperation, that he feared you might actually end up accidentally activating a laser beam and burning the thing. Clueless was… well, clueless. He looked like someone who had never been properly alphabetized in his entire life. And finally, Porcupine didn’t seem bothered in the slightest, calmly reading and selecting each answer with the ease and certainty of someone that knew what he was doing.

He was sort of amused to realize Sanrio’s bangs had a small lock of hair poking out.

Higuruma glanced his eyes over the class, and made the sad realization he’d have dozens upon dozens of tests to grade and submit to the Dean the following morning.

What a nightmare, I’ll be here forever grading these after hours.

He had completely forgotten, earlier that day, that he’d have to deal with assessment test shenanigans. The information popped back into his mind five minutes before he arrived at the Uni, and Higuruma got a little desperate, remembering he needed to pick up the pile of tests inside the brown brick building’s print center before darting his way to class.

At least, he was more accustomed to running by then.

After parking near the building, Higuruma ran against the clock, and made it by the skin of his teeth. The Professor was completely relieved, failing to realize that his memory had fucked him over more than once that day.

You, on the other hand, weren’t fending off much better.

What do I do, there is more than one answer to this, it fucking depends, goddammit, you cursed inside your mind while answering most of the questions in that assessment test.

I need a cigarette.

You were particularly bad at taking multiple choice tests, especially in subjective areas — which was definitely the case for Criminal Law.

You had this little curse of wanting to select two different answers in nearly every question and always choosing the wrong one.

At least I can drink this failure away at the party today.

“Ten more minutes!” Higuruma’s voice echoed through the classroom, and you must’ve looked particularly more hectic than before, because you felt his eyes on you, and when looking up, noticed he seemed a little concerned.

Very charmingly concerned in that disheveled suit and slightly messy hair.

Ah, shut up, brain.

After the ten minutes flew by, a cacophony of pens being put down or clicked around could be heard. People got up, and one by one, the students put their tests over Higuruma’s desk. He dangled over his chair lazily, bidding his students a good morning with a mumble.

You were the last one left, and stared at your test like it was a nuke falling right into your future criminal defense attorney career. Sad wasn’t the best word for it — you felt disheartened.

Sighing defeatedly, you lifted yourself from your chair like your clothing was made of lead and walked towards Higuruma’s desk, handing him the paper. His eyes lifted towards you while he took the test from your hands.

“What did you think of the test?” Higuruma inquired, organizing all the papers into a neat pile.

You huffed.

“Sanrio is worried about this test,” you replied, smiling while poking a little fun at him.

His eyes widened a little, and for a second, Higuruma looked embarrassed.

“About that, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...” he began.

“Oh! It’s...”

Completely okay. Kinda sweet. Something I might’ve actually liked.

“Fine. I didn’t mind. It’s not always, but sometimes I nickname people in my head too.”

He offered you a discreet awkward nod, “okay, then.”

Noticing you might’ve made him unnecessarily uncomfortable, you decided to lighten up the air.

“So... No random experiment for torturing your minions today? I mean, the students.”

Higuruma chuckled softly.

“Ah, no. I figured this test was enough torture for one day,” he answered, spirited, “I’m not that ruthless.”

Remembering the Yuuji marker debacle, you thought about something for a moment before you resumed speaking.

“You know,” you began, “perhaps you should ask for students to volunteer before doing your… things.”

“I used to, actually,” he promptly answered.

“You did?” your voice sounded surprised.

Higuruma nodded, “Yes, but students rarely volunteered.”

That sounded a little off.

“Quick question, Professor. Did this scarcity of volunteers happen before or after the first volunteer demonstration?” you inquired.

“After. Why do you ask?” He asked while putting the tests into his briefcase.

Oh my God, he’s so clueless.

“No reason. Just curious.”

***

“Hey, people! I brought us beers!” Yuuji exclaimed, light spirited, as he walked towards you, Megumi, Nobara and Maki all seated on the grass behind the brick building. He quickly descended to sit beside the group.

“You are the best, but I’m not mixing today,” you thanked, greeting him with a cup full of pure vodka, “this should do the trick for tonight. Also, it’s pretty fucking cold for beer.”

“Is that why you’re wearing that thing?” Nobara inquired while pointing at your ugly red scarf around your neck.

“Get off my case, Nobara,” you retorted, gulping on your drink with some unidentifiable desperation.

“Shit, was the test that bad?” Maki asked you as she took a single can from Yuuji’s arms, while mindlessly pulling Nobara closer and kissing her head.

“It was weird, I was so confused, it felt like every question had at least two answers,” you complained, stretching your body over the grass.

“You probably did fine, you tend to be overly dramatic about these things,” Nobara stated while pulling another can from Yuuji, smacking on his shoulder with a fist. He whined in complaint, and she chuckled like a tiny ginger demon.

“I agree with Kugisaki, you’re smart!” Yuuji chirped in, while scrambling his way to sit beside Megumi, “I had no idea what I was doing. If you thought about at least two answers to each question, you’re already better than me.”

This poor, poor kid, you thought.

“There’s more to exams than just being smart, you need to know how to do them, and I do not, unfortunately…” you answered, a tinge of disappointment to your expression.

“This is solely an assessment test, anyway. It doesn’t compute in our final grades, there is no need to be so upset about it,” Megumi interjected, shushing himself when you glared at him.

He was terrible at comforting people.

“So, Fushiguro, I didn’t quite know what you’d like to drink, so I brought three types of beer,” Itadori mumbled, extending three different cans of beer towards Megumi like a raven with trinket offerings for his favorite human.

Not exactly smooth, but definitely cute.

Nobara and Maki shared a look, both of them with cheeky smiles on their faces. You covered your mouth to conceal your own smile — you were far from being as saucy as the power couple by your side — and waited with a bated breath for Megumi to pick up on the hint from Yuuji.

It was about time, considering it had been months of Yuuji trying to make a move.

“No, thank you, I won’t drink today,” Fushiguro cluelessly replied, and Itadori visibly deflated from that.

“T-then… I can grab a soda for you, or…” Itadori clumsily interjected, while scratching the back of his neck.

“There’s no need, I will go-”

Perhaps it was the vodka, the dreadful day or how much Megumi had just cock-blocked your shipping dreams, but you blurted out your next few words.

“For fucks sake, Fushiguro, if you don’t take a beer can from Itadori right now, I will body slam you into oblivion.”

“… We’re on the ground. How would that even-”

“Bitch, don’t test me.”

Fushiguro was somewhat taken aback by your interjection, but hesitantly extended his hand and picked one of the three beers Itadori had selected for him, prying it open with a wheezing click. Megumi looked at you, then the beer can, then at Itadori, suspiciously taking a tiny sip.

“It is… good,” he muttered, as a smile slowly returned to Yuuji’s Kirby persona.

“Now, thank him,” you complemented, pointing at Yuuji, “he did find three types of beer in this God-forsaken campus party only for you, after all. I’d never have bothered to do so, and I bet Maki and Nobara feel the same.”

The power couple raised their drinks in agreement towards you, and Fushiguro sighed.

“Thank you, Itadori.”

Yuuji happily nodded, “you’re welcome! Do you want something to eat? I could-”

“Baby steps, buddy… baby steps,” you interrupted, putting your hand over Yuuji’s shoulder. He nodded sheepishly while Megumi was at a loss.

“O-okay,” Itadori acquiesced.

Suddenly, you all heard a voice calling Megumi’s name from a distance, sounding like some kind of haunting, and began looking around as he buried his face in his hands.

“Who is that?” you asked.

“Megumi! Where’s the food!?” the voice inquired in a light hearted tone. In the distance, you saw a fluffy, white ball of hair approaching under sunglasses. At night.

Megumi groaned from the depths of his soul.

“Argh, for fucks sake,” he complained, well aware as to who was coming.

Trying to dodge the faculty members didn’t do much to keep his adoptive father away, apparently.

Not so far from there, Higuruma sat in a poorly lit office grading the tests the entire class had taken that morning. After finishing grading yours — and you didn’t do very well, just as you had anticipated — he muttered to himself, out loud, “what happened there, Sanrio?”

The Professor failed to notice he did remember your name perfectly, even if he kept calling you Sanrio.

“Will you sleep in here today?” a familiar voice scowled from the door, and Higuruma turned his face to meet the dusty blonde head of hair peeping through.

“I’ll just finish grading these and then I’ll go home, Kento,” Higuruma answered with a tired smile on his face.

“And couldn’t you have done that from home?” his friend asked, looking at the menacing pile of paper over the man’s desk, “or maybe tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, I’d never get to it if I had left it for later. I’m already here, might as well just ditch this Pavlovian nightmare as soon as possible,” the other stated, flailing a test on his hand before proceeding, “what are these even meant to assess? Someone’s capabilities of answering formulaic questions like trained dogs? Ugh.”

Higuruma was ranting.

Nanami huffed a slightly amused chuckle, but underneath it, he seemed a little beaten down.

“Is everything okay, Kento?” Higuruma asked, interrupting his ranting when noticing his deflated friend.

“I’m… fine.”

Nanami had forgotten for a second that Higuruma, underneath all his antics, was a very perceptive person.

“Are you sure?” Higuruma insisted, “you don’t look so well.”

“It’s nothing. I’m just thinking about work, that’s all.”

And that he was. That meeting had stuck with him for those past few days.

“Oh, how was the meeting with the Union?”

Nanami’s breath got caught for a second before he mustered up something to answer.

“It wasn’t what I expected it to be. I might be switching things up soon,” Nanami said with some understated grave finality.

“Truly?” Higuruma sounded surprised.

“Yes. Perhaps exploring new fronts beyond Corporate Law.”

“Well, then, let me know if there’s anything I can do to help apart from practicing law.”

Higuruma’s voice cracked softly right at the end of his sentence. Nanami didn’t fail to notice it, and kept silent as his friend seemed to mull over bitter memories.

“Hiromi,” Nanami began.

“I can’t, I… can’t.”

Higuruma had visibly tensed up, his fists unconsciously clenching as his forearms laid flat on the desk.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Nanami concluded, careful not to dig too deep on the matter.

Both of them shared an uncomfortable silence before Higuruma hesitantly steered his gaze to meet Nanami’s. Unsure, Higuruma gave his friend a tiny nod, and moved his attention back to the task in front of him.

Understanding that the talk about it was over, at least for now, Nanami asked, “I’m leaving, do you want me to help you carry those to your car?”

“Oh, there’s no need. I parked far, behind the…”

Oh, shit.

“Nanami, what day is it today?”

***

“I’m not drunk,” you mumbled, while filling your third cup of vodka.

“I’m not so sure about that,” Nobara said, giving you a light push to your shoulder, having you nearly tip over. Meanwhile, Megumi, Yuuji and Maki were entertained with Yuuji trying to score Gojo’s open mouth with peanuts like it was a basketball hoop.

Megumi was the least entertained of the trio.

“Knock it off!” you complained, slapping her hand away.

You fished your pack of cigarettes from your pocket, and she instantly grunted.

“Those things stink and itch my nose, go smoke them somewhere else.”

It was your time to grunt.

“Ugh, fine. Then I’ll find a new best friend that’ll let me smoke — hell, one that might even smoke with me!” you replied, getting ready to leave.

“Make good choices!” she poked at you, and you playfully brushed her off.

“I won’t!”

You walked away — not before hearing Yuuji and Gojo cheering right after Yuuji managed to score ten peanuts in a row — and gave your cup of vodka another sip, having the burning tingle dripping down your throat, warming you up against the cold wind.

After about two minutes or so of walking, sure your smoke wouldn’t blow on anyone’s faces, you put a cigarette into your mouth and pulled the lighter Professor Higuruma had given you, trying to light the cig up.

However, the wind wouldn’t let you, no matter how much you tried to tent your hand around it.

God, why? you thought to yourself, fidgeting with your bangs in annoyance.

While darting your eyes around, looking for any sort of shelter from the wind, you found a beat up, dark navy-blue car that surely had seen better days parked just behind the brick building. In your drunken haze, you figured that squatting between both would be the best idea.

Stumbling your way towards the gap, you quickly went down on the ground in a crouched position, holding your cup in one hand and the lighter on the other, cig strongly held in between your lips.

Flick, flick, flick.

Nothing.

God fucking damnit.

“Hey!” a male voice exclaimed from behind you, scaring the shit out of your soul.

Your body moved on instinct. You instantly jumped up, startled and screaming, and tossed the entire vodka contents from the cup towards whoever had nearly given you a heart attack.

Higuruma stood there, completely stunned and incredulous, as the beverage hit his shirt, vest, tie, face and coat.

“… I didn’t mean to scare you,” he offered, taking his glasses off to shake the liquid from them before putting them back, “but why?”

For a split second, he was just glad this wasn’t coffee or wine, the staining demons of liquids. It could’ve been worse.

Oh my God. I can’t believe I assaulted this man with my drink again. This has to be a prank.

This time, already impaired from two full glasses of vodka in your system, and increasingly nervous at that situation, you couldn’t hold it in.

You began cackling, directly to his face, as his expression became profoundly confused. He lifted an eyebrow, not knowing if he should feel scared, amused or offended.

"I-I just… Just laugh in i-inappropriate… moments- I’m sorry!" you tried explaining, in between laughs and huffs, drying a tear that bubbled up at the edge of your eye with the tip of your fingers.

You both stood there for a few seconds until your laughter died down, and he was then sure you definitely had a few screws loose.

It amused him.

“Here, let me use this to dry your shirt," you told Higuruma, approaching him with your red scarf, pressing it against his chest. He put his free hand over it and haphazardly rubbed it over the damp patches of his clothes alongside you.

This up close, he couldn’t help but notice once again that tiny hair lock which swirled away from your bangs.

Realizing he was staring at your hair, Higuruma diverted his eyes elsewhere, having them landing over the ugly red scarf.

"Ah, that hideous thing."

Shit, I said that out loud, he thought to himself, facepalming internally.

To that, you looked at him, wide eyed, and laughed wholeheartedly, having Higuruma blushing embarrassment at his own incapacity to control his words.

"It is hideous, isn't it?" you noted, surprising him.

For the second time in that interaction, he was nothing short of perplexed. The Professor was more than accustomed to having people get deeply offended at his talking mishaps from time to time.

"I thought you might be laughing because what I said was terribly inappropriate," Higuruma admitted, somewhat relieved.

"Oh, no. It was funny. I also laugh at funny things," you jested with a mindless smile pulling on your cheeks.

It was his time to chuckle, and you didn’t fail to notice, even in your tipsy fog, how a tiny crease would form on the edges of his hangdog eyes when he was laughing. And how his voice reverberated. And how his disheveled hair framed around his face beautifully, highlighting his beautiful hooked nose. And-

Shit. I have the hots for the Professor.

"... Is there still anything on my face?"

That snapped you out of it, but not entirely.

"Uh? Why?"

"Because you're staring at it."

Yeah. That checks out.

“I just… never mind,” you told him while blushing discreetly, scrambling around to give him some space. It was only then that Higuruma noticed he had his hand resting over yours for a while after you stopped trying to pat him dry with the ugliest scarf known to mankind.

Clearing his throat, he asked, “why were you slouching by my car?”

“I was trying to light a cigarette,” you replied, pointing at the cig on the ground after the debacle, “the wind is pretty unforgiving today.”

“I see. I’m sorry about the fallen soldier,” he stated.

“No worries, I’ve got more,” you replied, pulling your pack from your pocket, “do you want one?”

I shouldn’t, smoking is bad, I’m doing cardio three times a we-

“Yes.”

You pulled two cigarettes from the pack, put them both in your mouth, cupped your hand around the cigs to light them up, and it actually worked.

Well, that’s convenient.

You inhaled the smoke for a second, feeling it waving into your mouth. It immediately soothed your crave.

Taking one of them in between two fingers, you extended your hand towards Higuruma, who grabbed the smoke.

“Thanks,” he offered in a calm tone.

“No worries, it’s the least I could do after assaulting you with vodka,” you shrugged with some embarrassment.

“It’s oka… pure vodka?”

“Yes.”

That’s… a lot.

He was a little taken aback, but decided not to ask anything.

“Well, at least it won’t leave a stain, unlike coffee,” Higuruma remarked.

“Yeah, it won’t,” you replied while mindlessly giggling.

Higuruma finally bowed his head towards you and you retributed the gesture, bidding him goodbye before leaving on your way to your dorm room.

Once you were gone, he went inside his car, cracking the window open. As he was finally alone pulling the cigarette towards his lips, Higuruma noticed something around the edge of the cig. A soft pinkish-red ring that went all around it.

Is this… her lipstick?

It was.

Against his better judgment, Higuruma blushed softly, instantly shaking his head to weave off the heat that had pooled around in his cheeks before flipping the engine on.

Get a hold of yourself.

He did, however, hold the cig in his mouth, smudging the faint lipstick tint it had on his lips until the smoke was all spent up.

Tag list:

@arusearu @yammy-yammy-yama @markleeisdabestdrug @redlikerozez @delirious-donna

@alwaysfreakingout @murderofravens @senseifupa @higurumapet @cindyneko-strider

@ohhheymessa @bigbaddulce @actuallysaiyan @s-witch-bitch @pseudowho

@soft--cherry @bsaeshell @quinnyundertow @traffi

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deceitfuldevout · 1 year

Text

Happy Purge

Purge AU: Soft!Dark!Mike Kiernan x Student!Reader

Word Count: +2,068

Warning(s): +18, Non con, Stalking, Kidnapping, Power Imbalance, Use of blood as lube, Mild gore, Purge day.

Author's Note(s): I was thinking about this and coincidentally it's kinktober haha!

It's been almost a decade since the first purge. A lot has changed since then. You remember a time when people didn’t have to worry about looking over their shoulder. Even the morning after was gruesome scene. There was an official purge cleanup crew for that reason alone. You couldn’t help but stare at the clock on the wall.

If you could squeeze in just one last assignment, you'll be free for the weekend. Suddenly, you hear your name being called. It breaks you out of your train of thought, turning to your instructor and apologizing, "Yes Professor! S-sorry..." now embarrassed that you've been caught by him. Professor Mike Kiernan

According to his students, Mike was more than an exceptional teacher. Every last one of them adores him. If not, well then he'd have to look out for tonight. You on the other hand, have always felt there was something off about him. As if he were harboring a dark secret. Maybe it was the building nerves. After all, tonight would be the start of the annual Purge Day.

Mike ends class an hour early, giving his students enough time to reach home safely. You on the other hand, take the opportunity to finish up remaining school work. Mr. Kiernan was also in charge of study hall. He notices you're the last student left and approaches your desk, "Forgetting something?"

You look up at him with your pen still in mouth, taking it out to speak. That's when the realization hits. "Oh sh—shoot!" Quickly correcting the slip up. You had completely forgotten. In about thirty minutes the sirens were going to ring, after that the Purge would commence. You lived a little more than half an hour away. How on earth would you make it to home on time?!

Mike notices your fidgeting, poor thing. You were so caught up in school work that you'd completely forgotten. Always so responsible, one of his best students. So kind and generous. You were always a good student, helping anyone that needed it. Was it bad that he wanted to keep it all for himself?

"Do you need a ride home?" he offers, "It's not safe out there, especially not for a young lady like yourself," kind, genuine words. Your phone is almost dead, and you had no point of contact. So you take his offer, "Thank you professor Kiernan, Seriously," You grateful to have someone like him. He walks you to his car parked on the edge of the lot. He takes his time walking to it. You on the other hand, were in a hurry.

You felt almost embarrassed by the way you held the door handle eagerly waiting for him. To unlock it. He chuckles, clicking the button of his keys to open it. You hurry inside, not wasting a second hopping onto the seat. As he began to drive off you could hear the first warning bell. There would only be two more before the final sirens. Your eyes are glued to the red sirens attached to each public building, the blaring makes you feel sick.

When the car makes a sudden turn off the main road, you begin to grow suspicious, "Professor?"

"Yes?"

"This isn't the way to my house..."

"I know, but it's too late for that now," he answers, "The third alarm is about to go off, we won't make it in time," his eyes are still glued to the road. You gather enough courage to speak up again, "Professor....professor where are we going?"

"I live nearby, you're more than welcome to spend the night," he answers, "The last thing I'd want is for those animals to harm a student of mine," he reassures. Mike lives in the more rural side of town. There's a growing feeling you have that something was wrong about all this. But what other choice do you have? It was better than being out there alone on the streets.

As soon as you arrive to Mike's home, he activates the security system. When he first bought the house, the first thing he did was install a Purge-proof security system. He walks into the kitchen, rummaging for something, "Would you like some tea?" he opens the pantry to fetch some herbs. While it boils he gets some jam and toast for it. As soon as he finishes up, he places both cups on the table.

You notice that Mike hadn't taken a sip from his drink. Your eyes widen with fear, "You haven't touched your cup..." there's a pause. Then he realizes his mistake, "Ah, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to make you nervous," he switches the drinks, "Here, have mine," he takes a sip from your cup to insure it hadn't been spiked. It calms your nerves knowing that there was nothing to worry about.

Mike had kept his promise that you would be safe here. It's been a while since he's had anyone over. He tries his best hosting skills, a round of charade, following by a board game. It was honestly one of the best purge experiences you've had yet. A great distraction from the events occurring outside. He insists on watching a movie to kill the time, you agree. Why not? Besides, Mike's company wasn't so bad.

It was during the middle of the movie when you needed to use the restroom. He points you to down the hall. On your way back, you notice a door had been left open. It was most likely the master bedroom. When you reach the knob to close it, you accidentally take a glimpse inside.

That's when you notice what was there. No....there's no way...You enter his room to get a closer look. Mike smiles to himself. To think that he'd been so worried about everything, and for what? You seem to be enjoying his company. He was right all along, there was something more to your relationship.

He hears you rushing down the hallway, there's an angry look on your face, "What the fuck are these?!" you toss the photos on the ground. Pictured in each and every last one of them is you. Some of them were taken while on campus, others were downloaded from social media posts. He smiles, "Now I know what you're thinking, but if you just hear me out--"

"Not a fucking chance!" you back away from him. He's confused, why now were you acting out? It was going so well between the two of you! Can't you see how much he cares?

"Don't you see the love and dedication I have for you?! And you know it too!" he nears, "I know you feel the same way..." his voice sounding more desperate, there's a deranged look in his eyes that doesn't meet his smile, "Tell me you weren't thinking the same thing, when you waited for me after class," he held a hand to his chest, expressing his love for you.

He's finally letting you know how he's felt for a very long time. You were at a loss for words, there's no way he actually thought--between the two of you? He's delusional. To think you and your classmates actually trusted him. You're pissed, "Get it through your fucking head! You're my professor! That's all you'll ever be!"

After hearing that Mike's smile fades. He could feel heart shattering into a million pieces. Maybe it was a mistake, bringing you here on your own terms. If he knew this was how you would react, then he would've just stuck to the original plan. He knows he could get away with it too. After all, it was Purge day.

Usually, he'd go against something like this. But what other choice does he have? It quickly turns into a fight or flight situation. You knew he was stronger than you, so there would be no point in fighting him. What other choice did you have other than running? Mike is much faster than you realize. He's quick to grab you before you've had a chance to alert the security system.

Mike drags you across his home. He stops by a door located on the side of the staircase. He almost rips the hinges off when he pulls you inside. You fought with all your might, scratching, pushing, hitting wherever you possibly could. To him, they felt like nothing. He's dealt with worse. In the struggle, you're sent tumbling down the stairs.

Mike uses his body to shield yours from the fall. He cradles your head against his chest. Yet still, you were fighting him, after everything he's done. You scurry towards the other side of the basement. As far away from him as you could possibly be.

Mike sighs with annoyance, "You have no idea what it's like..." he lifts himself off the floor, his hands now balled up into fists. He doesn't know how much longer he can hold himself back, "You have no idea what it's like seeing you every day, and not being able to do a damn thing!" he charges, slamming you against a wall, he leans his head closer to yours.

Still there was that look of admiration in his eyes, "We could've been so happy together," Mike grabs you by the throat, pulling you into a deep, searing kiss. In retaliation you bit his lip. He winces in pain, "Will you just...stop fighting me?!" his anger gets the best of him as he slams you against the wall. You're left stunned after getting the wind knocked out of your lungs.

Mike is quick to catch you. He panics, "Please! I don't want to hurt you!" He yells over and over again, "I love you! I love you! Please! I love you!" there are tears in his eyes, "Just please...let me love you..." he sighs against your neck, placing a kiss on the bare skin, "Look at what you do to me..." he grinds his bulge against your clothed mound.

You could practically feel how big it was, even through the many layers of clothing. It makes your skin crawl, how he's played the role of a caring professor and community member for so long. Could he even see himself right now?! "Look, whatever you want, a house, a baby, I'll give ya," Mike never knew he even wanted those things, not until he met you. Don't you see? You're all he's ever needed.

You fought him like a trapped animal. His feisty little wildcat. You use both fists to land a few good hits on his face, over and over again. Hitting his nose with a 'crunch' sound. But still, it doesn't stop him. Mike can't seem to understand why you were trying to escape. It was useless fighting him. This would be so much better if you just gave in. Because eventually, he's going to get what he wants. He pulls you into another forceful kiss.

For that, you headbutt in right in the face. Mike winches, pulling away from you with a now bloody nose. He throws you to the ground. Then pounces, caging his body on top of your own. He begins to unbuckle his belt, dragging his boxers down to free his cock. He spits a wad of blood in his palm, that'll do for now. He doesn't want to waste anymore time. Purge would be ending in a few hours, and he'll make sure to use every last minute of it.

He knows how the law works in this area. If a couple lived together for over a year, then it would legally bind them together as husband and wife. Mike doesn't mind that idea at all, 'My wife...you're going to be my wife," he sighs. Your stomach churns after hearing that, "No...no please, this isn't what I want!"

"You don't even know what you want" Mike starts lifting up your skirt, he's eager, almost giddy, "But I do," yanking down the waistband of your panties. He forces his member deep inside, groaning from the sensation of your walls pulsing. You scream from the intrusion. It resembles a cat's howl.

Tears begin to form, now blurring your vision. Your claws sink deep into his chest, as he began thrusting in and out of your channel. He doesn't stop, not until he finishes. He has only one goal on his mind, to plant his seed, leave a legacy behind, "Take it, take it..." he mumbles over and over again.

"Professor?" a student asks, causing Mike to break from his trance. His student asks the question again, "How was your purge?" genuinely curious. What did Professor Mike Kiernan, of all people, do to earn those nasty bruises? He's still wearing his sweater from yesterday, now caked in his own blood. The first thing he did the morning after, was drag himself out of bed and straight to lecture. He couldn't help but grin, "Well, ran into some trouble, but, no worries,"

His students and coworkers felt bad. They all said the same thing, how Mike was the last person who deserved something like this. If only they knew. After a long day of lectures, he finally drives home. He passes by the Purge's official memorial road. There are numerous photos of people who had either lost their lives or went missing.

When he sees your photo, he can't help but smirk. He parks his car on the side of the road, approaching the stand. He pockets the picture for keepsake, smiling to himself as he returns to his car. It's been a long time since Mike has looked forward to coming home.

Perhaps Purge wasn't so bad.

#dark!mike kiernan #reader #reader insert #reader x mike kiernan #mike kiernan x reader #dark!mike kiernan x reader #fem!reader #fab!read #afab!reader #my work #my works #cillian murphy character #cillian murphy smut #smut fic #dark fanfic #dark fic #dark!fanfiction #dark!fic #dark smut

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highonmarvel · 3 months

Note

girl- i'd do ANYTHING for a very dark!Thor x f!reader where reader is kidnapped and enslaved by him. Noncon, violence will be great.

Love ya! And ty, no pressure :))

-🪐

no it did not take me five months to answer this, who said that. i do apologise for the nearly half a year wait, i’m not sure what’s wrong with me, but i appreciate the ask, and your patience! love you to the moon and to saturn 🪐 alright, here we go:

No Words, Just Screams

Thor Odinson: A quiet and dignified rejection leads to consequences that are the exact opposite of it.

Thank you to the absolutely incredible @buckys-wintersoldier for helping me with this. You are seriously, seriously the best person ever, I love you so much.

additional content warnings here!

CONTENT WARNING, PLEASE READ: This piece includes graphic depictions of violence. Seriously, this is really dark; do not proceed if you are uncomfortable with explicit descriptions of physical abuse and rape. This is your warning. This is fucking dark. I am going to hell.

Non Con Warning

For only the second time in your life you reject a man. He seems nice enough—Thor, is his name—and you’ve seen him around a few times at a mutual friend’s parties, but you’ve hardly spoken to him; he’s gregarious and outgoing and he gets along well with everyone, including you. Though you hardly know him, he’s never given you a reason to dislike him; very short pleasantries have always been comfortable and even humorous, and everyone around you says he’s cool, you’ve just never had the opportunity to really learn anything about him, especially considering he never sticks with one group during a party, making his way through the crowd so everyone gets a piece of him, although it’s never been too much for you.

That’s why you’re so taken aback when he finds you outside and confesses his attraction to you. You had slipped out to the backyard to take a smoke break and try to relieve yourself of the pounding headache caused by the constant yelling and booming music inside.

“I really, really like you. And I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me sometime.”

“Oh!” you startle, really not having expected this. “I… I’m sorry but no… I just don’t know you too well.”

For a moment you wonder if that was the right call—you haven’t really been on too many dates but you know the general idea of them is to get to know someone, and who knows, maybe you’d actually find yourself attracted to him; he’s not bad looking at all—strong arms, blue eyes, blond hair, the works—but you can’t say anything on him as a person. Nearly as immediately as that thought crosses your mind, it’s swept away when his expression changes.

The usually lighthearted and easygoing demeanour he carries vanishes into thin air, and the somewhat bashful nature he had around you as he asked you the question turns into something a little darker, and more serious.

You really can’t tell what’s wrong with this guy. You try to tell yourself he’s just feeling embarrassed and maybe even a little sad right now, but for some reason you suddenly notice the extreme height difference and avert your eyes.

Deciding it’s best to head back inside, you try to push past him on the narrow veranda where he stands blocking your path to the door. He’s still as you move and for a second you don’t think he’ll do anything until suddenly a calloused hand clasps around your wrist and you yelp in fright jumping back at the touch.

“Sorry!” he apologises nearly immediately with a breathy half-laugh.

You look up from his hand restraining you to find his eyes have softened and his popular but not douchey energy is back, as if that earlier spell was just a trick of light.

“I’ve just… never been rejected before,” he laughs again and shakes his head. His words sound lightheartedly incredulous, innocently surprised, but his grip on you is so strong you’re starting to lose feeling in the tips of your fingers.

“Uh— yeah, alright,” he lets your hand fall free and you gasp as the blood comes rushing back, cradling your wrist in the palm of your other. “Just know that you’re incredible, and any guy would be lucky to have you.”

You want to thank him for the compliment and for his interest, but you’re sort of frozen in bewilderment at his weird juxtaposition; his words are soft and sweet, but he won’t meet your eyes, staring into the distance as if focused on something; his reaction to your rejection wasn’t extreme, but it was so unsettling you’d rather he have yelled at you.

You give him a quick, tight-lipped smile before rushing inside and shutting the door behind you, not really caring that you left him out there. For 15 minutes you half-dance lingering by the backdoor, but it never opens again and he never steps in. Oh, God, you really hope no one saw that, you’d rather not be bombarded with questions about why Thor ditched the party after seeing you, but you also don’t want to leave immediately and be interrogated on why you and Thor left at the same time. Eventually you stop hanging at the back of the house and dance your way to the main area where Nat is swaying happily.

“Nat!” you yell her name over the music, moving into her sight line to try to get her attention.

“Oh, hey!” she says in an excited and high pitched voice, “Where’d you go?”

“I just went out for a breather and spoke to Thor.”

“You did?” she replies, closing her eyes as she moves to the music, “That’s great, he’s great!” She’s clearly drunk and you doubt that even if you got her alone for a bit she’d be able to understand what you’re trying to tell her. And what even are you trying to tell her? He didn’t hurt you (intentionally), he didn’t do anything wrong at all, in fact, he was overwhelmingly nice, but the way he switched was spine chilling.

You just nod and continue dancing until your legs are tired. You pour yourself a glass of water at the drink table, looking out through the window it’s pushed against into the street where parked cars are lined up and down the road. But one car is in the middle with the engine running, and you swear it’s Thor’s, but it’s just sitting there, and it’s too dark to tell if it’s him inside. If it is him, what’s he doing? Is he waiting for someone? He came here alone, but he stayed sober tonight, maybe so he could drive a few friends home because he was just that thoughtful, but… maybe that’s not the reason he’s sober while everyone else—including you—is drunk as fuck or high as shit.

Your mind swirls in confusion—worsened by the alcohol—as you try to get your bearings, trying to decide if maybe you really are just being unnecessarily skeptical and harsh on him. Whatever his intentions, you still felt weirdly uncomfortable, and you’re not really able to enjoy the rest of the night feeling slightly unnerved by his earlier presence.

You give Nat a quick goodbye and she waves, but you’re not sure if she heard you say you’re leaving or if she was just swaying to the music. The cool night air calms you down as you step through the front door, but you’re not at peace for long before you stumble and nearly fall face first into the concrete with a shriek. But you don’t feel the impact, instead, you feel steady arms catch you, and hold you a little tighter than necessary.

“Are you okay?” a familiar voice asks: Thor. Maybe he just went to drop someone off at home and he’s back now, there’s no reason to think he’s watching you or following you or anything like that; for Christ’s sake, you barely even spoke to him a few hours ago, you can’t even classify the interactions you’ve had with him as a conversation, and he’s known around here to be the nicest guy you’ll ever meet, so why does this feel so odd?

You grab onto his biceps to steady yourself, mumbling a thanks as you straighten to full height. You can’t really focus on his features considering you’re much drunker than you initially thought, but his cadence just doesn’t seem right.

What the fuck is wrong with this guy? Or, alternatively, what’s wrong with you?

“That’s not an answer, baby.” Baby? “You can’t even walk, let me take you home.”

The last thing you want to do is spend any time alone with him, even though you have to admit his offer seems better than sitting on the couch of a hot living room while people grind on each other all around you. What can you do? You’re feeling a little too out of it to reject his offer, but you know he can tell you don’t want this, and you know he can come up with a dozen reasons as to why you should get home, and why he should be the one to take you; you only really know Nat here and she’s in no condition to drive or even just walk you home, and you don’t live close, so walking alone isn’t just unfeasible based on distance, but after midnight is way too dangerous, and you might even hit the ground on your way.

His hand is light on your bicep, gently catching your attention as he gestures to his car with his other, like he’s laid a treat down to lure an animal into his cage. When you don’t move for a few moments, he guides you forwards; initially you try to resist him, planting your feet in the ground as he walks just a little ahead of you, but even his lightest tug is stronger than you can fight in this state, and you soon find yourself slowly walking with him, carefully eyeing the car.

He opens the back door and you slide in, head pounding and vision slightly blurred, but at least relieved you don’t have to sit next to him. You don’t realise you hadn’t given him your address until the car slows after ten minutes, and you groggily turn your now-heavy head towards the windows and peer at the unfamiliar yard the car is parked in.

Before you have time to question it, Thor gets out and slams the door behind him, the car rocks on its wheels and you try to clasp onto the car door but it’s flung open before you can latch onto it. A shrill squeal leaves your throat before your arm is caught in a death grip between a rough palm with fingers digging so hard into your arm you worry he’ll snap right through your bone.

“Thor—”

“Shut the fuck up!” he yells in your face, causing you to cringe back into the car but he harshly tugs you out and you fall to your hands and knees on the rocky pavement with a grunt, the stones splitting the relatively thin skin of your knees leaving abrasions dirty with sand and small rocks.

Thor’s hand tangles itself into your hair and you yelp as you grip onto his wrist and hastily stumble to your feet lest you risk him ripping your scalp off. If he feels your nails digging into his skin so hard trickles of blood run down your fingers, he doesn’t show it.

You let one hand go and attempt to swipe at him but he’s just far enough out of reach, and you’re not really able to land any hits on target given on your disorientation.

The door to what you assume is his house slams open and you’re flung so far in your slide across the floor for a few metres before hitting your head against the hardwood. You groan as you lift a hand to your temple to feel for a warm trickle of blood racing down the side of your face, but before you can bring your fingertips to your line of vision, a heavy and muddy boot presses onto your head, pushing your cheek into floor and clotting leaves and twigs into your hair. You gasp and try to reach back to pry his ankle off of you but he swats the hand away with one of his own and you let it fall to the floor with a whimper. He leans forward on his leg and lets out a disappointed sigh, crushing your face so your lips purse and you can’t even ask for him to stop.

“This could have been a lot easier, you know,” he says casually, as if saying yes to him was the definition of a no-brainer, and in his mind, it might have been; he’s never been rejected before, and by the way he’s behaving, you can tell he doesn’t know how to handle it.

Saliva drips out of your mouth and forms a small pool on the floor as he presses down harder, before he finally releases you and you’re able to place your hands underneath your shoulders and push your head up, and the room spins so fast you nearly regret doing so. You don’t have time for relief before you’re kicked so you have to roll over onto your back and stare up at this beastly man who seems to be becoming less human and more animal-like by the second, breathing heavily as if he’s the one who was practically thrown across the room and crushed under the weight of a tall man. His pupils have definitely dilated, making the anger in his eyes that much more intense.

Again he presses his foot down, this time to your stomach, knocking the wind right out of you. You try to squirm upwards from under him but he leans down and effortlessly wraps a large hand around your throat, stopping you in your tracks as you pivot your attention to prying him off of you and trying to get some air into your lungs again, ignoring the black spots that dot the corners of your vision.

He does finally let go of your neck but not before slamming your head into the floor, making you gurgle and sending a near-deafening ringing sound bouncing through your skull. You try to prop yourself up on your forearms but you can’t lift your head a few inches off the ground before it slams back down.

“I try… to be nice,” he growls as he steps over you, putting one foot on either side of your body, “And you… just wanna be difficult.” He brings his boot up and slams it down hard against your wrist, and your scream is so loud you nearly miss the unmistakable bone-crunching sound the stomp makes as your left wrist breaks under the impact.

“Please—” you begin, but are forced to let out a cry of pain as he presses down harder.

“I told you to shut the fuck up!” he bellows, but he finally frees your mangled hand and you gasp as you push over to your left side, wanting to grasp your wrist in your right palm but stopping short when noticing the hypersensitivity even as you brush your fingers lightly over your jagged skin is enough to make you want to pass out. “No words,” he continues, clearly trying hard to keep his voice level, though you can still hear the twinge of sadistic enjoyment at the edges of his words, “Just screams.”

He nudges you over until you’re lying on your belly again and makes quick work of kicking your legs apart. In anticipation of what’s coming, you try to kick at his crotch but he catches your ankle and crashes your leg back down to the cold, hard floor. The sound of him unbuckling his belt makes your heart rate pick up, drumming against your ribs is such harsh hits you’re scared it’ll break through. You try to claw forward but choke on a sob as you’re reminded of your broken wrist when the slightest movement causes blood to start painfully pumping through the site of injury.

When he spits in his hand, you break down and let out a wail, and based on the grunt he lets out as he strokes himself, it seems to only spur him on further. You don’t even know when he’s pushed your underwear to the side but when he feel his tip rest for a moment on your entrance, it makes you cry out a plea, using your right hand to claw at his thigh while hopelessly trying to thrash your legs with your thighs trapped under his knees that are painfully digging into your flesh, “No, no, no, please, please—”

He interlocks his fingers through yours making sure his palm presses down on your injured hand and his other hand pulls roughly at your hair to bring your head up. He spits in your face then slams your head back down so hard your teeth chatter and you taste warm blood filling your mouth.

He pushes into you with a frustrated grunt at how painfully dry you are, but that doesn’t stop him for long. He spits on his hand and reaches down to add a few wet fingers to his length, causing you to cry out at the painful and unnatural stretch. With a low growl in the back of his throat, he slowly pulls himself nearly entirely out of you before slamming his hips so far into you that you jerk forward and feel your walls tear around him. The sight of blood has him nearly drooling and makes his task of rocking into you a little easier, and you’re sick with the thought. You can’t even cry out for help, all your oxygen being used to actually keep yourself breathing despite your tortured cries and the fear you might actually split apart because of how relentlessly his massive length is pounding into you, literally tearing your cunt apart.

You feel his thrusts start to get sloppy as he loses his rhythm and his muscles tense up. With one final slam he releases himself and lets his heavy body fall on top of you, nearly suffocating you as you heave for enough air to cry. When he pulls out, you hear the disgusting sound of your blood mixed with his come before it drips onto the floor, and you hear him hum in delight as he shoves two fingers inside you earning a yelp before popping them into his mouth and moaning at the taste.

When his breathing calms down, he finally crawls up to look at you, your face stained with tears and snot and spit pooling underneath your flushed cheeks.

“Better get used to it, babe.”

💛 [taglist: @pr300877, @cowboysnbugs]

#dark thor #dark!thor #dark thor odinson #dark!thor odinson #dark thor x reader #dark!thor x reader #dark thor x you #dark!thor x you #dark thor x y/n #dark!thor x y/n #dark thor smut #dark!thor smut #dark avengers #dark!avengers

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hongcherry · 12 days

Note

Saw this and I could NOT pass this up🤌🏼, writing toooo good to not send in a request still haven't got over the Christmas gift fic you wrote me with YunGi🤪

So can I get this based around Woozi please😔🙏🏼, the lack of Woozi fics is CRIMINAL! With the dialogue being #2, emotion I, and the setting the alleyway being a dive bar.

I will take anythingggggg, angsty, happy, sad, truly ANYTHING. I’m thirsty for any Woozi crumbs I can get😔😔 please and thank you bestie😚😚xoxo

omg DDD: LOOK AT YOU BEING ACTIVE AGAIN 💖 hello hello bae! AND DON'T BE NICE TO ME. IDK HOW TO ACT *throws hearts aggressively* but tysm for supporting me huhuhuhuuh 😫 and ty for sending in a request! i hope u like it, my cheese lover 3000 🧀

Pairing: musician!Jihoon/Woozi x Reader G/AUs: Angst, friends to lovers, non-idol au TWs: None but ofc lmk <3 WC: 1.2k A/N: Barely proofread so no judgment plzzzzz ;c

Prompt: “what they said back there. is it true?” + confusion + an alleyway behind a dive bar

Build a fic! ✨

seventeen masterlist | main masterlist

this blog is 18+. minors do not interact. plz & ty! (ageless/minors/blanks blogs will be blocked)

The winter air bites into you as soon as you push past the dive bar’s door. The chilliness makes you want to take a U-turn back into the building, but you know the heat from indoors won’t help. Not when your source of warmth still sits inside.

People mill about the sidewalks, some dressed casually and others dolled up. No one gives you a second glance as they walk by. It makes it easy to slip into the alleyway unnoticed—hoping for some privacy as you gather your thoughts.

He’s leaving.

In one week, Jihoon will be across the country, chasing his dreams that don’t include you.

There’s a gallon of guilt sloshing in your chest from not being over the moon for his opportunity. However, it doesn’t compare to the sea you’re treading in from knowing this is it for you both.

You won’t get the chance to love and be loved by him.

Not in the way you want.

You slump against the brick wall, arms wrapped around yourself to fight the cold.

You know there are still opportunities to keep in contact, but it won’t be the same. You won’t be able to feel his arms around you or his lips on yours. Maybe if traveling wasn’t so expensive, you could find the silver lining.

“Hey.”

The familiar voice makes your head snap up; your hold on your jacket tightens in surprise.

Jihoon stands at the entrance of the alleyway with his hands stuffed in his pockets. He looks hesitant.

Emotions try to clog your throat, but you force them down so you can speak.

“What they said back there. Is it true?” you ask, voice strained.

Jihoon glances to the side briefly while he answers, “Yes.”

He slowly makes his way closer. Each step brings forth an equal weight of pain and happiness. Being around Jihoon used to bring a smile to your face instantly, but now, your heart just aches.

“You didn’t tell me,” you state.

“I did,” he answers slowly. He stops a few feet away, hands still in his pockets.

“You said you’d be gone for two weeks, not two years,” you scoff.

He exhales a deep breath. You watch it swirl in the air from the cold weather instead of seeing the mix of excitement and guilt on his face.

“It was only going to be two weeks, but they really like my works and wanted me to sign a contract,” he explains.

You turn away when you see your vision blurring. Staring at him reminds you of what you’re about to lose.

“I was going to tell you in private tonight,” he adds.

“What else were you going to tell me?” You force the question out.

“What do you mean?”

You glance at him finally. He’s standing an arm’s length away now.

“Were you going to tell me I meant nothing to you? That you’re sorry for leaving me, but I should be happy about it?”

“Fuck, Yn, you have no idea how hard this decision was for me,” he sighs out, slight frustration laced in his words.

“Enlighten me, Jihoon, because right now, it feels like you knew there was never going to be an ‘us’.”

He winces at your words, hands digging deeper in his pockets like he’s trying to find the right words to make you feel better. You already know he’ll come up empty.

“That’s not true,” he says belatedly.

“No? How long did you know about this new contract of yours? How long were you waiting to tell me ‘privately’? A week? Two?” you ask, voice raising in anger.

The more you talk, the more conflicted he looks. You know you’re not making this easy on him, but the devil on your shoulder wants him to feel the heartache you’re feeling.

“Do you not remember how two weeks ago we were on your couch and I told you I love you? I love you, Jihoon, and you’re just going to lea—”

Jihoon kisses you hard.

He holds your face in his hands, grip tight enough to keep you steady but not enough to hurt. Your heart hammers in your chest.

He puts all the emotions and messages he can’t convey into the kiss. It’s so overwhelming that you want to pull away, but you persist because it means you can have him a little longer.

The second you feel him begin to pull away, your hands reach up to grip his wrists.

He stares down, so you can’t see his face.

“I’d ask for you to wait for me, but that’s not fair,” he says. You can hear the sorrow in his voice. Although you wanted him to feel it too, you also can’t help but hurt more knowing he’s not happy. “Maybe once I get a few paychecks I can fly you out. Maybe… Maybe if you still love me when I come back, we can make it work.”

“Why can’t we make it work now?” You nearly plead.

He sighs and shakes his head. His hair tickles your forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

You will your knees not to give out in realization. There’s no changing his mind.

Your hands on his wrists ease.

Jihoon looks up, eyes filled with desperation for you not to go.

“Let’s head back inside. You’re cold,” he murmurs, hands slipping from your face to hold your hands.

Before you can try to protest, he’s leading you back inside toward your friends.

Your body instantly feels grateful for the warmer temperature, but what’s really heating your body is Jihoon’s hand in yours.

His comforting touch spreads from your joint hands and spreads throughout your body. It’s a feeling you want to shove away, but you force yourself to not. You only have a few days left of his presence, and you should enjoy it.

Jihoon’s not a fan of PDA, but tonight he pushes his own boundaries. He drapes an arm around your shoulders, hand lazily gliding up and down your arm as he interacts with your friends.

You can’t help but lean into his firm body, allowing yourself these few hours to pretend everything’s okay.

It’s self-torture to have his notifications on. It’s been almost four months since he’s left and all you can do is check his socials. He’s not too active so when he is, you cherish it.

Although you’ve tried to keep in contact, hectic schedules and time zones make it difficult. You wonder if he still thinks of you as much as you think of him.

Then as if to answer your question, your phone dings.

woozi_universefactory made a new post. Check it out!

His first official song, “Loved You First,” has been released.

While tears stain your cheeks as you listen, another ding emits from your phone.

Jihoon: 🖤

You chuckle at the simple message, wiping away your tears as your heart replaces forlorn with hope.

He said he wouldn’t ask you to wait for him, but you should fight for what you want—for who you want.

You push down the doubt and channel the hope you felt while listening to his song. Nothing will stop you from trying to make this work.

Not the distance, the time zones, or the schedules.

After all, who said love is easy?

Taglist: @musingsofananxiouspotato, @christinewithluv, @lockburn-castle, @iammisstora, @maknae00, @morklee02, @kittyhui, @aeerio, @cherrylovescheol

©️hongcherry // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

#svt fanfic #svt angst #woozi fanfic #woozi angst #svt woozi #svt jihoon #jihoon angst #jihoon fanfic #svt x reader #seventeen fanfic #seventeen angst #woozi x reader #requests #flowers for bambi 💐

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timetoletmyimaginationfly · 7 months

Text

One Gift From You

Nanami Kento x Reader

Happy Valentine’s Day my readers! I hope you enjoy!

(Song Inspiration: Like No One Does by Jake Scott)

Nanami: I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m being held up at work again.

You sighed deeply. It’s been about a month since he’s been stuck at work lately. But you know you couldn’t say much. You knew that having a boyfriend who is a sorcerer is going to be a lot. Even when Nanami warned you and gave you a few opportunities to back out, you chose to stay six years later.

You: I understand! Come home safe, honey. I have dinner left on the table for you. I love you❤️

And you were the non-sorcerer. You worked as a nurse and worked overnight shifts. And if Nanami returns home on time, you at least have ten minutes with him before you leave for work. You routinely clock in early, learn about your patients, and roughly plan your night before you get report.

And despite the short interaction you get with Nanami in the evening, you at least get to have a few hours with him before he leaves for work. Or at least until you fall asleep. You make his coffee and breakfast before you wash up for bed, even though he tells you not to.

“Sweetheart, you worked your third night,” Nanami said. You smiled and gave him a soft kiss.

“I know. But I love making you coffee,” you said. “And you said that you love the coffee I make.” Nanami would pull you in close to his arms.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said.

“You’re silly. You do so much for me.”

“Because you do everything for me.”

“It’s because I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You sat by the computer. You drank your coffee and typed away, mentally ready to run to your patient’s room if something were to happen. After a few sentences of typing, you looked up and stared at the room. You looked at the monitors. Everything was okay.

“She okay?” the primary attending asked as he walked by. You nodded.

“After earlier, yeah she’s good,” you answered. You let out a small yawn. A cup of hot coffee was placed by your computer. You smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Doppelgänger.” He lightly laughed.

“I don’t see the similarities between me and your boyfriend.” You unlocked your phone and compared the picture between the attending and Nanami.

“Nah, you’re the doctor version of him.” He chuckled and shook his head at your silliness as he took a sip of his coffee.

“You two planned a fun date for tomorrow?”

“No, why?”

“Valentine’s Day. I’m surprising my wife. No matter how many times I tell her, she keeps forgetting,” he said.

“What?!” you questioned, your voice slightly louder and looked at your phone. You frowned. “I forgot.”

“Your birthday was a few days ago.”

“I forgot too.” He ruffles your hair playfully. His cell phone suddenly ringing, already walking away once he answered the call. You sighed. Usually, you and Nanami would plan something small for Valentine’s Day. But the two of you have been busy lately, especially Nanami. You heard your name get called from your coworker.

“You don’t mind keeping an eye on my patient?”

“I don’t mind, but maybe ask another nurse too? Just in case I’m busy with mine.”

“Thank you!”

It was past midnight. Your phone brightened and you smiled.

Nanami: Goodnight sweetheart❤️ I miss you and I love you❤️

You: Sweet dreams! I miss you too honey! I love you too❤️

The sounds of Nanami’s alarm woke him up at 6AM. He rubbed his tired eyes and looked at his phone. He cracked a smile from the missed text messages from you. All of them about how your night is going. And from the looks of it, it seemed to go pretty well so far. But after all the stories you tell him, there’s a good possibility that something was bound to happen before you left.

Quickly, he headed to the bathroom and shower. He wore his usual uniform without the jacket and decided to let his hair relax for now.

Two hours passed. He heard the door open and he heard your keys jingle as you closed the door. He heard you call his name. You sounded chirpy and awake. More than usual after a third night of work. Nanami headed to the door and smiled softly.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he said. He cupped your face and kissed you deeply. You felt your heart race from his kiss. Six years together and he still gives you that effect. “How was work?”

“Way better than expected. My patient stayed stable. That’s all I needed for a good night,” you answered happily. “How was work? Did you get home too late?”

“Gojo-san kept pestering me to go out around 9. So we went out for drinks with Ieiri-san and I arrived home around 11:30,” he answered. “Work was good though.” You leaned up and kissed him again.

“Gonna keep your hair like this?” you asked curiously.

“Depends. How do you me to have it today?”

“Mmmm you can keep it like that for now.”

“I have something to show you.” Nanami held your hand and dragged you to the kitchen. Your eyes widened.

Nanami set up dinner. Two plates of pasta was placed on the table. A glass of red wine and a glass of water. A bouquet of red roses and sunflowers sat in between the meals and a small black velvet box sat in front of the flowers.

“Kento, what is this?” you asked with a large smile on your face. Nanami chuckled and lead you to the counter.

“Our Valentine’s Day dinner for breakfast,” he answered. “I knew you forgot. I took the opportunity to surprise you.”

“You got sunflowers?”

“They’re your favorite, sweetheart. I have another gift for you.” He left the kitchen and as quick as he left, he returned back. You gasped when a book bouquet appeared in his arms. You ran to him and looked at the books in the bouquet mixed with wildflowers. They were the ones you saved in your cart.

“How—When—Kento!” Nanami lightly laughed.

“I checked your cart list,” Nanami said with a playful smile. “You got a lot on the list. You should spoil yourself every now and then. Do you want me to pay for more?” You quickly shook your head.

“Thank you, though,” you said. You looked at Nanami. You gently brushed his hair away from his eyes. You felt yourself melt in his eyes and smile. “You truly are the best.”

“I want to be the man that you deserve.”

“And you are. I feel bad. I completely forgot about Valentine’s Day that I didn’t get anything for you.”

“I think I can change that.” You cocked your head slightly, looking at him with puzzled eyes. Nanami placed your book bouquet on the empty side of the counter and picked up the velvet box. Your eyes widened. You didn’t want to assume.

“Kento?” Softly, he called your name. Slowly, Nanami opened the box, revealing a diamond engagement ring that made you gasp. You felt tears from in your eyes.

“I bought this ring four years ago,” he confessed. He softly chuckled at your more surprised expression. “I waited for you to finish school. But then you were still busy so I waited and waited. And then I got busy. And…sweetheart. I love you. You’re so hardworking and do everything with no complaints. You still make sure I have food when I come home from work before you leave for work. You make me coffee when you come back. You make sure our home is tidy. It’s like I don’t deserve you because you go above and beyond for me.” You softly wiped your tears away before he got down on one knee. “And now that we finally have a romantic moment together, will you do me the honor and marry me?”

“Yes,” you said. Nanami slid the ring on your finger and picked you up by the waist and spun you around. You laughed and kissed him. “You’re not the only one who feels that way.” Nanami raised an eyebrow. “The way you massage my feet and legs after every shift, no matter how much sleep you got. The way you set up a hot bath when I text you how horrible my night was. When I’m too tired to cook, you order food from one of my favorite restaurants. Kento, you buy me something every week even when I don’t need it. You are a dream come true.”

“Am I?”

“Of course. You come home late from work, you hold me tightly because you know how worried I get. You let me cry in your arms without complaints. Nanami Kento, I can’t wait to become your wife and continue to do the things I love doing for you because I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He kissed you one last time before you pulled your phone and took a picture of your ring.

“Now I can show your doppelgänger my ring!” Nanami laughed.

“I don’t see the resemblance, sweetheart.” You playfully rolled your eyes. Nanami pulled your chair out and the two of you clinked glasses to celebrate.

Fun fact: Last week in my clinical, I kid you not I found my bf’s doppelgänger! I literally rubbed my eyes, thinking I was going crazy😂 I’m a nursing student and if you guys read some of my stories, I usually have the reader as a nursing student, nurse, or a tech. It’s the most relatable for me.

#nanami x reader #nanami x you #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #nanami fluff #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jujutsu nanami #nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami fanfic #nanami #jujutsu kaisen fluff #nanami jjk #jjk fluff #jjk

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deathbxnny · 1 year

Note

Hi there! You asked some HSR angst, well here you go! can i request Jing Yuan and Blade x s/o who was the royal guard and prince/ss of Khaenri’ah.

More context on reader:

They were the second born child of Khaenri’ah’s Royal Family and part of the royal guards. So somehow during the Cataclysm the reader was transported to the HSR universe. They were VERY traumatized of just what happenend and had put up an upbeat and plucky personality as a coping mechanism for what happened. They traveled the universe for sometime before they met Jing Yuan/Blade and ofc learned of Aeons. They dont like the Aeons and any mention of them would get rid of their upbeat facade quickly. They associate the Aeons with the Archons that destroyed their nation, now they know they arent the gods that did it but they cant help it. Basically Dainsleif’s attitude to anthing archon related but much chiller? Bc again they’re not the same ones who destroyed their nation so their willing to give them a very small benefit of the doubt.

How would they react to their s/o revealing their past and immortality to them after they had snapped at someone for something (probably aeon related that hit a bit too to home?) and became distant towards everyone for while. They tearfully revealed their past and then later go on a rant about their hatred toward gods. Also how would their lover react hearing about the curse (The pureblood and the half blood/non blood khaeri’ahns) the people of Khaenri’ah received.

How would they react towards their s/o being suicidal because the erosion that the curse cause them to have is THAT bad they just wanted to die but cant bc they cant die from being murdered as they can self regenarate or from old age. (Think of the demons from kimetsu no yaiba, like when yushiro got his head decapitated, yeah im pretty sure their lover saw their head get regenerated like one time)

Hope you enjoy this angsty request and have a good day/night!

- Flower Anon 🌸

-----♡

A/N: I re-read this 5 times, but for some reason my brain refused to process any of it, so I hope this still turns out okay lmao... thank you for the request tho and sorry for the long wait.

Content: Angst, hurt/comfort, established relationships, some rough description of the Khaenri'ah curse thing, small mentions of reader being suicidal

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not fully proofread))

-----♡

》Jing Yuan

Jing Yuan always silently questioned your past and often wondered why you were so secretive about it. However, he also respected your boundaries and therefore never pushed you for any answers, as he knew how sensitive some topics were. But when you one day just snapped at someone for the simple mention of the Aeons and God's, he started slowly piecing together your story on his own. It definitely also helped, that you eventually just spilled everything to him.

He was understanding and supportive, horrified to hear about the curse and it's consequences. He had heard of and seen many evil things, but this still shocked him. Especially after learning what the curse did to you as well. He was deeply upset when he heard about your want to die and despite understanding it, he still made sure you knew how important you were to him.

He tried making you see the bright side of it at least, as the curse gave him the opportunity to spend an endless lifetime with you at his side, something he deeply wished for. And he was glad, that he could, even with it being a horrible curse that allowed him to be.

-----♡

》Blade

Blade didn't really care about your past at first, as you never seemed to care about his. It was a mutual understanding between you two to just not mention it and try moving past it together, despite Blade's need for revenge. And at first, he was content with that, until he noticed your strong disdain for God's/Aeons. This confused him, as he didn't understand what it was that bothered you so much, until you eventually broke down and told him about it in a long rant.

He listened to you quietly, as you spoke about your people and their curse. About how you were sick of living and just wanted to finally rest. About how you were just really done with everything. And he understood you perfectly. He really did. Especially as he himself was cursed to immortality and wanted to die more than anything. The fact that you felt the same as him brought him more solace than anything in this world ever could.

But that's exactly why he also was so adamant on you continuing on even through your curse. After meeting you, he realised that immortality may not be as bad as he originally thought, especially when it's just spent with you. He'll help you get your revenge, as long as you promise to stay with him forever too.

-----♡

A/N: I'm genuinely praying this is even slightly coherent. Sorry for the wait Flower Anon and thank you again for the request!

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail fanfic #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x reader #hsr jing yuan #hsr jing yuan x reader #hsr blade x reader #hsr blade #hsr

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gb-patch · 2 years

Text

Beta Anon Ask

“ hi, i played the newest baxter beta and i wanted to leave my feedback, you of course dont have to answer this publicly as it contains spoilers, i just wanted to be able to be anonymous for my feedback so i sent it here. i really enjoyed the first three moments, i liked being able to learn more about baxter, but i found myself uncomfortable in the last two that were in the newest beta. i didnt like that my mc had to allow physical contact with baxter without the ability to say no.

[continued]” I’m sorry you felt uncomfortable. Though unfortunately, I don’t know why that happened to you. The choices to avoid it already exist. If you want to send your save to our support email to maybe see what might’ve led to that, you can. But for now, I can only tell you that none of that physical contact is automatic or unavoidable.

[email protected]

With Baxter touching MC without a prompt from the game in the scene you mentioned, that’s exclusive to High Initiative. It doesn’t happen on Low or even Medium. And High exists for the entire purpose of letting the lead interact with the MC without always having to prompt the game for it. I can’t say how, but for some reason you were on the wrong setting for what your boundaries are. I would suggest sticking to Low and not even Medium since you’re sure you always want to control when contact happens. That’s exactly what Low Initiative was designed for.

And for being required to dance with Baxter, you aren’t. I tried to see if it was a bug and couldn’t replicate it. If you don’t promise you’ll dance with Baxter when an opportunity comes early in the Moment or don’t offer to dance at the end when the chance arises, then you don’t dance with Baxter. Again, if we looked into the save maybe we could tell you what led to dancing with him when you didn’t want to, but it’s not the only result.

For the additional note about the amount of Cove content, I’m afraid that’s not something that can be changed. Some differences in preferences can’t be determined by the player.

Also, I understand wanting to be anonymous, but if you’d like to express something that matters to you about non-public content sending it as an anon ask on Tumblr is the least effective way to go about it. This was a misunderstanding and it can be cleared up, but now that reassurance can only happen in a difficult way that requires trying to avoid spoilers in front of other followers.

To anyone who has played the beta and wants to give feedback, please do it in a way that allows for direct or private answers, or in the spoiler area of the Patreon Discord.

And thank you for playing!

#our life #ask #Our Life Beginnings & Always #gb patch #gb patch games #baxter ward

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gumnut-logic · 8 months

Text

Five pickup and One drop off (Pick up 2)

Pick up 1 | Pick up 2

Total crack, non-canon and nonsensical :D

But a little fun at least, maybe :D

I hope you enjoy

-o-o-o-

Julia was not a fan of her job.

It did have its perks. Quiet moments to do that last minute assignment in an emergency was definitely one of them. Though having half a brain at three am was also a challenge.

This morning was one of those times.

She had spent the last half hour staring out the drive-thru window counting lights on the far side of the bay. It was a great view, when it wasn’t pitch black.

The owner of the fast food franchise was a nice guy. She did wonder at his business acumen in choosing to place his store high up on a hill outside of town. But then he had made much more of it with the space and she had to admit that the locals used what would have been purely a drive-thru centre as more of a destination during the day, both for the view and the surrounding gardens.

But once the teenagers, parking at the look out, left around midnight, there was very little traffic and she and the two other night staff really didn’t get that much custom in the hours before dawn.

It was quiet.

She idly stared at one of the lights dancing across the bay.

Frowned.

One moment it was just a light, the next, it was hovering with a roar above the building.

Her jaw dropped as she peered out the window up at a set of four flaming rockets high above. Warm air tickled her hair.

Were they about to be invaded by aliens?

Maybe this was her opportunity…take me with you!

As if in answer, a figure suddenly dropped down from above, swinging from a rope. “Hi, could I place an order please?”

The alien appeared to be dressed in an scuba suit? Though he was blond and good looking.

Oh, and he was definitely a ‘he’.

Hmm.

“Sorry about all the noise.”

“What?”

He rolled his eyes and poked something on his wrist. A hologram appeared listing approximately half their menu. “Sorry, we didn’t order ahead. Virg can’t work your app and I dropped my phone in the drink. You’d think he would let me use his, but noooo, he doesn’t trust me, and John still won’t order take out from space. Says we eat too much junk food. Virg agrees, but I can persuade him. John’s the rock, the hard place and the immovable object all in one.”

Julia just stared at him. He was definitely a talkative alien. “Did you want fries with that?”

His smile was electric. “I always want fries. Give me all the fries.”

Bob and Sophie, her two colleagues on late shift were standing behind her as stunned as she.

Hmm.

She cleared her throat. “Will that be cash or credit?”

He pulled a platinum something or other out of his suit and offered to wave it where it needed to go.

Julia nudged Sophia in the ribs. She startled, appeared to engage autopilot, and began prepping the order.

And it was a considerable order.

Card waved and transaction done, Julia started on the drinks. Bob tackled the fries.

All the fries.

Alien man just hung around on his rope while the UFO above hovered.

They were very lucky that the neighbours were several kilometres away.

Cooked, collected, bagged.

Blink.

Double bagged with strong handles. She handed the order to the alien and made sure it was secure in the one hand he had available.

Dare she ask him?

“Take me with you?”

“Sorry? I can’t hear you.”

“Gordon, quit yapping and get that food up here.”

“Okay, keep your pants on, Commander.” He turned back to Julia and smiled. “Thanks.”

With that he was pulled back up into his spaceship. The UFO roared and took off over the hills behind them.

And everything was quiet again.

Julia stared up at the stars as Bob and Sophie cracked up all over the kitchen.

Please…please come back and take me with you.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #gordon tracy #nuttyfic

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againstacecilia · 1 year

Text

No More Wasted Time (Rewrite)

Pairing: Poe Dameron x female reader (modern!AU)

Word Count: 6.4k

Rating: E for sure. No minors.

Warnings: Childhood-friends-to-lovers, unprotected p-in-v, alcohol usage, break-up, hurt/comfort, heaps of emotion, overall smut warning.

A/N: We've come full circle here, folks! This is a rewrite of the first fic I ever wrote/posted, just wanted to try my hand at elevating my writing now that I've had some more practice. Please let me know what you think through reblogs and/or coming to yell at me in my asks! Here's the link to the NMWT universe masterlist if you wanted to peruse more of these two goofs. 🥰

Thank you for reading, and May the 4th Be With You. 💖

You had known Poe your whole life. For most of it, he’d just been the pesky older brother of your best friend. Your parents had been friends with his since long before you were born and the boys had just come built-in to the family they created.

Honestly, the dynamic had always worked; he teased and pestered his brother and it just sort of rippled over to you. It didn’t matter that you had snuck glances in high school at Poe as he pulled himself out of the pool, learning to admire the shift of muscles in his back or the strength of his arms. The hours you spent with him in their garage keeping him company and occasionally helping him fix his beat-up old car was just a way to pass the time when you had nothing better to do, and nothing to do with how just talking with him made you feel… Awake. Even in your darkest moments, the easy flow of conversation had been a light that opened your eyes and lifted a weight off your shoulders. Even the nights of teasing and poking fun at dive bars that never checked your fake IDs were just friendly. Never anything more.

And then you left. Went off to college and grad school and figured out who you were outside of the boxes of youth. Had experiences and grew and decided that coming home wasn’t such a bad idea. Especially when your boyfriend, Mark, had been so enthusiastic about joining you and starting your lives together.

It felt right to be back home. Six years and what seemed like a different life later, it felt right to be sitting on the back deck with your family, your parents and the Damerons sipping cider in the warm September afternoon.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” your mother starts, her hair blazing in the later afternoon sun, “Poe will be stopping by. Said he wanted to say hi.”

“I’m not surprised,” you roll your eyes with a smile, “he’d never miss an opportunity to be a pain in my ass.”

“He said he misses you.”

You hum a non-committal response, taking another sip of your drink. “You know what, I’m glad he’s coming by. It’ll be good to see him. I don’t think I’ve seen him since Christmas last year.”

The conversation continues around you and you take a moment to close your eyes and breathe in the late summer air. Two years in a colder, northern state made it clear that you never wanted to be without the sun again. Its strong, constant presence at home was a sign to you that being here was right. Being home was right.

As you begin to doze the creak of the screen door signals Poe’s arrival. You sleepily open your eyes and turn to shoot him a grin. “Well finally, Mom said you were coming by. I’ve been waiting for hours.”

He sketches a playful bow, “So sorry to have kept you waiting.” He swiftly makes his way to the parents, dolling out hugs and greetings before settling down in a chair next to his father.

The afternoon progresses, laughter and chit-chat filling the air. Poe pushes as many of your buttons as possible, as usual, but it feels like home. You playfully threaten to kick his ass out, laughing as you stand and make your way toward the door to get another drink from the kitchen.

Just as you open the refrigerator door, your phone buzzes in your pocket. A tipsy giggle falls from your lips as you pull it up and see your boyfriend’s name flashing across the screen.

“Hi baby,” you answer brightly, “everything go okay getting the UHaul?”

Mark is quiet for a moment, static crackling on the line. He finally begins to speak, the minutes blurring together as he feeds you excuse after excuse. Finally, he tells you he isn’t moving home with you. He isn’t coming. You hang up the phone in a daze.

The living room is silent as you stare at nothing for a minute, not fully remembering how you’d gotten to the couch. Shock has locked up your mind and the backlight on your phone fades to black in your still-hovering hand. He isn’t coming…

The feeling of being watched shakes you from your haze but you don’t turn to the form you feel hovering in the doorway to the kitchen. You aren’t sure how long he’d been standing there, but it’s easy to assume he’d heard enough of the conversation to know what’s going on.

“You can come out of there, Poe, you’re a terrible snoop,” you say quietly.

“Who says I was snooping?” You finally turn to shoot him a weak glare. He’s standing against the doorframe, arms clad in his favorite olive green hoodie crossed over his torso. “I heard a raised voice and thought I’d come see what all the commotion was about.”

“Save it, Poe,” you sigh, slumping against the couch, “I’m not in the mood.”

He looks at you with an all-too-knowing gaze. The one downside of knowing Poe as long as you had: he’d known you just as long. “Alright, alright. I know you aren’t mad at me specifically, so I’ll play nice. Wanna talk about it?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“Wanna drink about it?”

You look at the half-empty drink in your hand and give it a shake. “Sure. Go make me another one. I’ll be done with this one when you get back.” He leaves with a nod, disappearing back into the kitchen.

By the time Poe returns with two fresh drinks and, to your surprise, a bottle of whisky, your drink is indeed gone. “Figured I’d bring the whole bottle, assuming I heard that conversation correctly. What was this one’s excuse?” He sits down next to you on the couch.

“He said something along the lines of, 'You just have so much going for you and I’m only going to bring you down.’ I told him I wasn’t in the business of fixing broken men anymore and if he wanted to break up with me then he needed to just come out and say it. Then he got mad at me for quote, 'not giving a shit’, called me a bitch, and told me it was over.” You hold your hand out for the drink, only to have Poe put the open bottle in your palm instead.

“What a stupid kid.”

“Maybe I’m the stupid one,” you scoff as you take a swig, the amber liquid burning its way down your throat and honing your shock into something sharper. “How do I always attract these kinds of guys?”

Poe looks at you for a second, an unfamiliar emotion on his face. You blink and it’s gone, replaced by the cool, nonchalant mask he usually wore. “Like I said, stupid kid. Might be time to set your sights on a man.”

“Oh sure, bring on the men in their suits with a 401k and a car they didn’t haggle off a junk lot. Where could I find them? I’m sure they’d be interested in a girl fresh out of grad school who still doesn’t have a job. A real catch.”

“You’d be surprised at what people see as attractive. Me, for example. I don’t do too badly. But I’m incredibly attractive so that isn’t too surprising,” he says with his trademark smirk.

“Shut the fuck up,” you mutter, half-heartedly throwing a pillow at him. Surprisingly, he does, and you fall into an easy silence, the only sound coming from the quiet news story on the tv.

After a few minutes, your parents and the Damerons come in and begin gathering up their things to go out. “We decided to grab a cab to Mauri’s for dancing, you kids want to join?” Your mom asks, slipping her shoes on in the entryway.

The hometown bar was legendary for Friday night dancing, but the usual draw just doesn’t tug on you. “Nah, Mark just called and told me he isn’t coming. Not really in the mood for dancing.”

“Oh honey,” your mother sighs, “I’m so sorry.” She walks to your side and perches on the arm of the couch. “Do you want us to stay?”

A warm glow momentarily fills your chest at her concern. “No, please go have fun. I’m just gonna hang here and go to bed early.”

Your mom kisses the crown of your head and pulls your gaze to hers. “If you need anything, we’ll come home right away.”

“Don’t worry, I have to work early so I’ll keep her company,” Poe gallantly offers. You subtly send him a grateful glance. He winks back with a grin.

“Okay, if you’re sure…” Your mom begins before your dad gently pulls her away, reminding her that you’re an adult and that you’ll ask for help when you need it.

The taxi pulls up and your parents file out the door, already bubbling about what songs they hope the band plays and what friends are already there waiting for them. The house quiets down again and you sink back into your seat.

Damn, the couch is small, you think to yourself, realizing how slight the distance is between you and Poe. Was he that close the entire time?

Shaking your head, you turn your attention to the windows overlooking a tidy front yard. The sky outside is on its way to twilight and, in the companionable silence, your mind wanders back to the phone call with Mark. There goes a year of my life… What do I do now?

Poe abruptly speaks up, pulling you out of your moping. “Alright, time for a change of scenery. Want to go sit on the back porch? Get a fire in the fire pit going?” he asks, turning to face you. That man never could keep still long enough to even get through a commercial break.

"Sure. I don’t have a jacket, though. Packed all my cold clothes so they’re sitting in storage.” A small pang rings through you as you remember who you packed all your things with. Looks like I won’t be unpacking with Mark after all…

Whether he sees the hurt in your eyes or not, he doesn’t acknowledge it. “You can wear mine, ya baby,” he scoffs, taking off his hoodie in one swoop and handing it to you, “It isn’t that cold yet.”

You ignore the jab and head towards the back of the house.

The night is starting to cool off. Leaves are starting to turn but not fall, summer is starting to yield to autumn. You pick the oversized chair closest to the fire pit and climb into it, curling up and putting on his sweatshirt as you go. He doesn’t say anything as he grabs some wood from the shed and piles it into the fire pit. Sure, steady movements show just how many times he’s done this, strong arms and dexterous hands building up the logs around the smaller kindling. It doesn’t take long before he’s got a crackling fire going, the flames dancing in the twilight glow. He settles into the chair opposite you. Some time passes in silence before you finally say:

“I’m such an idiot.”

Poe holds space for you to figure out the emotions warring inside you. He doesn’t try and fix the problem, just stares into the flames and waits for you to continue. Usually the picture of calm, you can’t help but notice the muscle flicker in his arm as his fingers tense into a fist. Almost like he’s wanting to argue with the words falling from your lips. From the truths that flow as alcohol plies your tongue.

“I should have seen this coming… Who am I kidding? Of course the only guys who are interested in me end up having mommy issues or daddy issues or something and I, ever the rehabilitator, can’t seem to just let them see a fucking therapist. I have to fix them. So, apparently, I deserve this. Just doomed to a life of bouncing from guy to guy until I’ve given them all the second chances they don’t deserve. I’m a fucking mess.”

Your voice breaks on the last word and you at last let the tears come. The dam breaks and you bury your head in your hands as the last of the shock wears off and your mind comprehends what’s happened. Soft steps walk toward you and Poe slides into the oversized chair next to you.

Just as you pull your legs up to tuck into yourself, Poe slides his arms around you. Both strong and steady, he slides one under your knees and braces one behind your shoulders to pull you into his lap. As soon as you’re settled, you release the tight grip on your legs and slip your arms around his shoulders, leaning into his embrace and letting him hold you as you cry. You don’t worry about why you’re suddenly letting yourself be so vulnerable and exposed emotionally with him, you just let him comfort you with soothing strokes down your back. He lets you cry and, eventually, starts humming. It isn’t any song in particular, he just hums and works a beautiful melody that you can feel in your whole body. You’re familiar with the timbre of his voice, rich and warm, helping you through the sobs rather than trying to stop them. Weathering the storm with you. Finally, the tears stop, your breathing evens out, and you both just sit there for a little while.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, pulling your arms from around his shoulders and wiping your eyes, “I guess it all just kind of caught up with me.”

“You don’t have to apologize, we’ve all been there,” he squeezes you in a small hug but doesn’t let you go. “Although, I’ve never seen you like that.”

“We’ve known each other our whole lives and you’ve never seen me cry?”

"No, I’ve never seen you doubt yourself.”

You don’t respond for a moment before asking, “What do you mean?”

“In all the years we’ve known each other, I’ve never seen you stop believing in yourself. You’ve always been this confident, albeit stubborn, person who was actually known to give me a challenge every once in a while.” You look up to see a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Why do you think I never complained when you came over?”

“Uh, because we were kids and didn’t have a choice in the matter?”

“My brother was always having friends over. You’re one of very few I didn’t ask my parents to bar from the house.”

“Sweet talking me right now, Dameron?”

“Just thought you could use some perspective.”

Throughout the entire exchange, you didn’t move and he didn’t let you go. It’s dark now, mellow in the September evening. The crackling of the fire and the wind in the mature trees are the only sounds as you decide to sneak another look up at his face, your breath snatched away by what you see.

He’s staring into the fire; eyes and face unburdened by facade. The flames light up his dark brown eyes, brows slightly furrowed as if in some deep thought. Thick stubble, maybe a couple of days’ worth, peppers his strong jaw, his mouth set in a thin line. A scowl, so unlike the roguish smirk you’ve seen light his face for as long as you can remember. You can’t stop yourself as you reach up to lightly run a finger over those full lips, some emerging part of you demanding to be noticed in this intimate and uncharted territory.

His eyes snap from the fire to yours, just as surprised as you are to find your fingers brushing from his lips up his jaw and down his neck, savoring and memorizing the lines of his face; the flames in his eyes that aren’t entirely just reflections from the fire pit in front of you.

“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice as rough as the stubble under your fingers. His pulse hammers through the vein in his neck, tempo nearly matching yours as blood thunders through your body. You wonder if he can feel it in the lingering touch of your fingertips.

“I honestly don’t know.” You quickly take your hand away and start to push out of his warm embrace. “I’m so sorry.”

“Wait.” He doesn’t let you get up as he gently adjusts you so he can see you a little better. “I didn’t mean that to sound like stop. Just… please. Stay.”

So you do. Wrapped up in his sweatshirt, in him, the smell of him familiar and somehow entirely new now. After your heartbeat settles a bit you whisper, “Tell me what you’re thinking?”

He continues his silent vigil, staring at the flames and tracing circles along your leg. He’s quiet for long enough that you begin to think he didn’t hear your silent request. As you’re about to ask again, he speaks:

“I’m thinking… I’m thinking that I don’t want to ruin this.”

Your heart drops, waiting for the blow to land. The fear that you’d misread the situation and that the connection you’d felt flickering in the fading light wasn’t reciprocated surges up and you prepare for him to disappear when, suddenly, words are tumbling from him like he’s afraid he won’t be able to get them all out if he doesn’t do it all at once.

“I don’t want to ruin what we have, what we’ve always had. I know I’ve always been a bit of a bully, picking on you the way I’ve always picked on my brother, but underneath it all I’ve always known you had a hold on me. You worked your way into a fundamental part of who I am without even trying. I almost asked you not to leave a couple of years ago, but you were set on going to grad school and I knew I couldn’t get in the way of that dream. And when you brought that Mark guy home for Christmas…”

The memory flashes in your mind. His parents’ snow-covered house, lights flickering merrily in the deep winter night, glowing as you opened the door and greeted everyone. The night had gone well but… Poe had left early that night, muttering something about seeing friends from out of town before slipping out the door. The realization must’ve been clear on your face because he nods and says, “That’s why I bailed that night. Seeing you flushed from the cold walking through the front door, eyes sparkling from all the Christmas cheer, I felt lighter than air. Our eyes met and I could’ve sworn I saw something spark… But then I looked behind you and saw him, saw the way you looked at him throughout the night, and I couldn’t take it. I had to get out. I told myself that night that I would never be anything more to you than what I had always been and to move on.”

The glistening in his eyes breaks your heart, the urge to comfort him enough to bring your hand back up to his face. You cup your hand around his jaw and he sighs, closing his eyes and leaning into the contact. Without opening his eyes, he whispers, “I’m sorry. I promised myself I wasn’t ever going to tell you any of this.”

“I’m glad you did, Poe.” Your free hand rests on his chest, savoring the heart beating solidly beneath. “I really am.”

“Please tell me what you’re thinking.”

Now it’s your turn to be quiet for a moment. You pull your hands back to tuck into your chest and lay your head on him once again. After a couple of steadying breaths you say, “Do you remember the last night I was here before I left for school?”

Of course he did. You didn’t think either of you could forget that night. You and your families, along with some other friends, got together for karaoke at your favorite bar as a send-off. People steadily trickled out all night but you, Poe, and a couple of other friends straggled behind until it was suddenly one in the morning. You had spent the night singing with him, song after song, harmonizing and coming up with your own lyrics to songs you both knew by heart.

“I do. That’s when I almost asked you to stay.”

“There was a part of me that wanted you to. I went to the bathroom while Henry was singing some terrible rendition of "Runaway” and, as I was washing my hands, I heard you start “Wonderful Tonight”. The whole world stopped, Poe. I snuck out of the bathroom to watch you sing and I couldn’t breathe… I wrote it off as the night of drinking making me goofy but I swear to God, Poe, I’ve heard you sing that song a million times and never heard it that way before. And then you looked at me. You looked right into me and saw all of me and I couldn’t look away. The memory of it all pops into my head sometimes and I’m still left breathless by it. By you.“

As you stop speaking, you could swear the wind and fire stop making noise too. Nothing exists outside the shaking breaths and thundering heart you can hear, unsure if they’re coming from you or Poe. You can feel it; the freefall you were about to be in. Was it really only an hour ago you were upset about some boy breaking up with you over the phone? Some kid who wasn’t ready for everything you wanted for your future? And here, right now, was a man. An honest-to-God man, willing to keep his needs hidden so you could choose your own path…

You lift your head up and look at his face to gauge his reaction to what you just told him. He looks down at you with starlight and flames in his eyes as he meets yours and then, slowly, as if expecting you to disappear, Poe closes the small distance between you and kisses you.

It’s… Soft. Almost hesitant, a silent invitation without expectation. He’d never put you in a situation where you didn’t have a choice and, even now, even after both of you let down your walls and shared these tender secrets, he’s still giving you a choice. There’s no doubt in your mind as you deepen the kiss, putting all the words you’d been holding back for years into the contact. He lets loose his breath in a sigh and sends trembling hands to tentatively explore your body. The timid touches, feather-light and careful, make you smile as you pull away.

“I want this, Poe,” you promise him, your hands cradling his face, “I want you, and I have for a long time.”

His smile in return sends sparks through your veins and he wastes no time threading his fingers into your hair, sending you crashing back together. His free hand, strong and sure and steady now, freely roams every curve of your body. His mint and cedar smell wraps around you as your own hands grasp at his sweatshirt. Wanting- needing- more, you playfully nip at his bottom lip.

His sharp intake of breath makes you pause, worried you’ve done something wrong, but a laugh rumbles low in his chest. “So that’s how you want to play?” he mumbles into your lips.

A conspirator's grin lights your features, “I don’t have the faintest idea what you mean.” Before he can respond, you turn your attention to his neck, kissing a trail down the side. You nudge the collar of his t-shirt away enough to gently graze your teeth over the soft spot where his neck meets his shoulder, his entire body shivering at the sensation.

“Careful,” he breathes. “Careful, sweet girl, we’ve got ti- oh fuck.”

Interrupting whatever train of thought Poe had started, you shift your body over his and straddle his legs, pinning him to the chair and stopping his words with a searing kiss. After a moment, you pull back to look into his face. His eyes burn with emotion; those beautiful, dark eyes, almost black with desire in the glow of the dying fire. No one has tended to it in a while and it looks like no one will for a while longer…

“Tell me you want me,” you softly request.

“I want you.” His hands tremble with restraint against your hips.

“Again.”

“I want you,” he responds again, the quivering spreading to the rest of his body.

“Then have me, Poe,” you whisper, reaching for the hem of his shirt, “because I want you, too.”

A low growl escapes his lips as the internal leash snaps. His lips find yours again and you part for him easily, his tongue hungrily sweeping through. The lingering taste of whisky tickles your lips and adds to the fire burning in your body. Every touch, every noise and place your body meets his surges with wildfire, the driving demand for more, more, more pounding in time with your heartbeat. He tears away from your lips to find any piece of skin not buried in his hoodie, kisses nearing desperate as your hands explore the planes of his chest. The muscles flex and shift, your nails finding purchase as you grasp the soft fabric of his shirt.

“Poe, please…” You’re not entirely sure what you’re asking for, the pulsing need in every corner of your body taking control of your tongue and nearly begging for more. More of this, more of him. Taking the hem of his shirt in your hands, you begin to tug it up and off of him when he senses the shift and takes over.

In one swift motion, he has you in his arms and stands. His long legs eat up the distance from the deck to the door, then inside to the guest room you’re staying in. Once inside, he lays you reverently on the bed and kneels on the ground next to you.

“Wait,” he pants, forcing himself to take a breath and remove his hands from your body. You whine at the loss, sitting up and grabbing for him. He stops you and asks, “You’re sure? Earlier this afternoon you had a boyfriend and now… I just don’t want you to feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”

The sincerity of his words fills your heart to near bursting. Had you really been treated so poorly that this moment of true decency felt like a gift? Taking your own steadying breath, you rise to your knees and pull him up to face you, wrapping your hands around his. You’d told him you wanted him, you had no other words to give him. So, instead, you guide his hands to your lips to kiss them while your gaze stays locked with his and nod.

“Good,” is all Poe says with a heart-breaking smile before gripping your waist and tossing you back onto the bed. Your laugh tangles with his in the air, a shimmering melody and harmony you’ve been practicing your entire life.

The wildfire burning in your veins flares back to life at the gleam in his eyes. He climbs onto the bed over you and hovers there, eyes drinking in your body spread out underneath him. He hikes the hem of his hoodie over the waistband of your pants and traces a finger over the sliver of skin peeking through. Agonizingly slow, he ghosts his hand up, up, up your torso to graze over the fabric of your bra.

“So many layers,” he muses, hand never stopping its movement as he leans down to brush his lips over yours.

You’re beyond words. The promise of him touching you, really touching you, striking you dumb. You can only focus on where his hand is and, if you move just right…

“Come on, baby, tell me what you want,” he whispers, voice skittering over your bones, full of silken promise.

“Touch me,” you manage to whine, too entranced with the way his body feels over yours to be embarrassed at the begging mess you’ve been reduced to.

“Yes, honey, but where?” Stubble scrapes gently along your cheek as Poe dips his mouth to your neck.

You get ahold of yourself enough to grab his hand over your layers, pressing down and responding with a breathy, “Here.”

“That’s a good girl.” Heat flares in you again at the praise. He nips at your ear while pulling his hand out of your shirt and grabbing the hem, taking both the layers and pulling them over your head. His long fingers, lightly calloused from years of work and playing guitar, slip the straps of your bra off of your shoulders and he slides the garment away from your breasts, exposing the heated and tingling skin to the cool air. His eyes spark with awe and lust as he cups both of them with his hands.

Your legs press together seeking any release from the tension building in your core and a small whimper sneaks its way out of you. The movement isn’t lost on Poe and he takes momentary pity on you, pressing a deep, lingering kiss to your lips. “I’m going to enjoy,” he murmurs, “Coaxing every one of those noises out of you.”

“Promises, promises,” you chide, finding a little more of your voice.

“There she is.” Poe’s smile lights the dim room and brings a smile to your face as well.

If your heart didn’t already feel like it was full to bursting, the vulnerability on his face would’ve done it. Your friend was here, the boy you grew up with was now the man making you feel safer and happier than you had in years. The realization helps you bring down that final wall, any hesitation or fear falling away and clearing your mind.

This. This was why none of your relationships had worked in the past. Why there was always that little something that felt like it was missing. You had crawled through deserts of heartache and sorrow to find that the oasis was here, with him, all along.

Flinging every scrap of self-consciousness to the wind, you take his lower lip between your teeth and nip it gently. His appreciative groan urges you on, encouraging you to grab his shirt and yank, pulling it off his lightly muscled torso. His hands make quick work of the clasp to your bra and, within a few heartbeats, the garment falls to the floor. Fumbling hands open his belt and pants. Your body aches with the promises his hands make along your skin.

“Get your… Get your pants off,” you demand between kisses.

He laughs, pure and rich, before quickly acquiescing to your demands. You take his moment of distraction to maneuver out of your own shorts and underwear. When Poe looks back at you, he pauses, eyes taking in every inch of your skin laid bare before him.

The look in his eyes when his gaze finally meets yours is like coming home.

Beyond words, Poe dives back into you with a fervor. It’s an unleashing. He grips the back of your neck with one hand while the other skates down your body and lands on the outside of your thigh, pulling your leg up low around his hips.

The tension in your body has you about to break. Your hand seeks him out, winding between your bodies and wrapping around the proud length of him. His hips surge forward at the contact, silently begging you for more. There’s no hesitation as you languidly pump him up and down, his arms beginning to shake from holding himself above you.

“Sl- Slow down,” he shudders, “You’re driving me wild here.”

You don’t respond, only keeping that gentle, tantalizing pace going, savoring the way his body responds to your touch.

Pulling away from your lips, Poe’s hand surges down to grab your wrist, halting your teasing. “Someone isn’t very good at listening,” he growls.

“Someone is taking his sweet time,” you fire back, mischief lacing your words.

Poe settles onto his knees and your leg falls from where it’s been curled around his body. He brings your hand up above your head, taking its twin and crossing your wrists in one hand, pinning them to the pillow. “You’re going to regret that,” he promises, sending a wave of excitement through you.

His hand releases your wrists and he slowly eases down your body, eyes never leaving yours as he settles between your legs, shoulders settling under the backs of your thighs. His face, sun-kissed and as familiar as your own, framed by your legs, it all makes your breath hitch and heart pound with anticipation.

A wink is the only warning you get before his mouth is on you, kissing and licking and drinking you in like a glass of fine wine. Your hands jerk to the covers next to you, grasping for purchase to keep you from flying out of your skin. His tongue dances through every inch of you.

“Poe…” His name is the only word you can utter, the only prayer you can muster as he offers his own kind of worship. Sparks light your vision as you barrel towards release and your hands weave into his curls, begging him to stay right there…

You get one more breath before the orgasm is tearing through your body. He never breaks away from you, rather, his claiming grip on your thighs keeps you tight to him. He never falters through the waves rolling down your spine that send you shaking.

It could’ve been hours or it could’ve been seconds, but, as the tide recedes and your mind drifts back into the present, Poe rises to his knees and brushes a hand along the side of your face. “You still with me, baby?”

You summon a nod, glazed eyes finding his above you.

“That’s a good girl,” he croons, lifting each of your legs up and over his shoulders once again. He kisses the inside of each knee as he settles your legs.

Like a marble sculpture, chisled by the hands of artists and imagined by the minds of poets, he kneels before you, eyes burning in the soft lamplight of the room. “Tell me you want me,” he asks softly, echoing your demand from before.

“I want you.” You’ve never wanted anyone or anything more.

“Again,” he echoes again, slowly notching himself at your blazing entrance.

“I want you.” Your voice is bright and clear.

“Good,” he responds, and slips easily into you.

Like a puzzle piece gently settled into place, your soul feels just how right it is for you to be here. It isn’t just sharing your body with someone, it’s a homecoming. The way your bodies meld and match is secondary to the echo of contentedness at the realization that your paths have finally led you here.

He starts gently, allowing you time to adjust to the fullness of him. A gentle rise and fall as he rocks into and out of you. His hands grip your thighs while his lips kiss anywhere he can reach, unable to completely hold back. And you don’t want him to. You want to feel every inch of skin and muscle you can. The need burns through you as you reach for the sturdy legs beneath him, just out of your reach.

“Please,” you gasp as he begins to pick up the pace, “I need… I need to…”

“Anything,” he says, letting your legs fall so he can lean into your reach. “Anything, it’s yours.”

You pull him over top of you, not caring as his full weight crashes onto you, and wrap your arms over his shoulders. Scorching kisses brand your collarbone and neck as he wraps around you as well and flips over so your body lies on his. All the gentle touches and movements are lost as he picks up his pace, punishing and overcome with need.

“Yes,” you sigh, burying your face in the crook of his neck and panting against his sweat-slicked skin.

From his lips pour praise, drunk on the feeling of you wrapped around him. Draping loving words around you like silk and lace, he punctuates each word with kisses and bites and doesn’t stop holding you through it all.

The edge of another orgasm looms before you, but you hold back as much as possible, wanting to tumble over the edge with him. You lift your head just enough to look into his eyes, the beginning of laugh lines etched into the skin around them. “Let go, Poe, I’m ready.”

Pressing a kiss to his lips, you rest your forehead against his and shift your hips in time with his. The angle threatens to overwhelm you but you hold on, freeing your hands to slip into his hair. Energy sparks around you and, with one final thrust, Poe tips over the edge and pulls you with him.

Shattering is the only way you can describe the feeling of the waves burning through you, Poe half a breath ahead of you. Panting and shivering from the exertion, you fully collapse on top of him, heartbeats pounding in call and response to each other. You’re fully content to lie like this forever, wrapped in his arms and the smell of him, skin to skin and souls laid bare to one another.

He kisses the top of your head, finally adjusting to roll you over next to him. He looks into your eyes, something unsaid burning just below the surface of his intense gaze.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” you say quietly, never looking away from him.

“I’m thinking,” he pauses for a moment, “that I wasted a lot of time not telling you how I felt. And that I don’t want to miss any more time.”

“Then we won’t.” You smile brightly up at him, taking in the excitement and joy on his face. “You’re stuck with me, Dameron.”

He kisses you again, sweet and gentle and unhurried. You kiss him back, trying to put all the words you held yourself back from saying into it. Making up for lost time. He pulls away, looking you up and down, wonder shaping every feature.

“No more wasted time. You and me against the world,” you say softly.

He pulls the covers over both of you and, as he pulls you in close to his chest, he repeats reverently, “No more wasted time.”

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mylove4oldmen · 1 year

Text

“𝙈𝘼𝙍𝙍𝙄𝙀𝘿 𝙒𝙄𝙏𝙃 𝘾𝙃𝙄𝙇𝘿𝙍𝙀𝙉”

fem reader x noel gallagher

•genre-fluff

•warnings- a few curse words

*requested by Lasheshavetobeblack on wattpad

summary: y/n is really annoyed at Noel's guitar playing and this is how married with children comes up

_________________________________________

THE CLOCK right beside y/n's bed marks 3:00 and she certainly should be asleep by now

why is she awake? you must be questioning yourself

Noel's guitar playing is a non stop situation in her house

he literally plays it in every opportunity possible but the only actual free time he has is at night and tonight couldn't be different

Y/n reaches for his shoulder and taps it gently as to not disturb her boyfriend too much

"Noel can you please stop playing? i need to sleep...some of us have to wake up early to work you know?" she whines fixing her hair with her left hand and getting closer to the boy who’s on the corner of the bed

"yea yea I'm almost finishing this song...lemme play it for you" looking straight to her eyes he starts strumming a nice rhythm:

*There's no need for you to say you're sorry

Goodbye, I'm going home

I don't care no more so don't you worry

Goodbye, I'm going home

I hate the way that even though you know you're wrong

You say you're right

I hate the books you read and all your friends

Your music's shite it keeps me up all night

There's no need for you to say you're sorry

Goodbye, I'm going home

I don't care no more so don't you worry

Goodbye, I'm going home

I hate the way that you are so sarcastic

And you're not very bright

You think that everything you've done's fantastic

Your music's shite it keeps me up all night*

"I know the chorus is a bit repetitive but I really can't come up with a different one" the man explains as his gaze shifts to his calloused fingers

"I can see that I am the inspiration for this song...and you're right you're music is shite" her joke lights up the mood and both of them laugh while a comfortable silence with no guitar playing becomes present

"my music is not shite c'mon"Noel answers and this time he is the one slagging your shoulder "you like Radiohead for fuck sake"

"there's nothing wrong with Radiohead"she answers with anger filling her voice "sometimes is nice to listen to sad songs...AND SONGS WITH MEANING"

"Don't go around dissing my music"he snaps "they do have meaning...but who needs to discover it is the listener,not me"

"I got you,mister rock n roll star" y/n says making a quotation marks movement with her hand

"I'm glad you know what I am" he states really proud of himself "now let's go to bed sleepy head,you're almost sleeping while I'm talking to you"

"I am exhausted don't blame me" tiredness fills the girls voice as she pulls the blanket over her delicate body "now come here,you're the big spoon today"

she pats the bed place right on her side the boy immediately puts his guitar away and lays down embracing her

"what are you going to call the song?" she asks closing her eyes

"married with children"he answers as if it was nothing

"why's that?" she asks happily

"we are going to be married with children one day...and you will thank me for writing these songs and annoying you cause they will be the reason you won't work" now he is the one closing his eyes

"oh yeah I won't be working in the future?"

he nods "good good,I deserve it after listening to this really bad songs"

"don't even start y/n"

"I won't...now let's sleep" her body is fully relaxed but interrupting the silence she confesses once again "I love you babe"

"I love you too" and she knows he means it

#noel gallagher #oasis #NoelGallagherhighflyingbirds #liam gallagher #married with children #britpop #madchester #rock n roll #Spotify

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tailorvizsla · 2 years

Note

Alright, Tailor, Sith Obi-Wan has invaded and demands more attention. After your encounter with him, you are determined to show him how good and loyal you can be. You take on any project you can that might catch his notice, and when an opportunity to transfer to a position in his main division is announced, you eagerly apply. You make it to the interview round where there is a panel of superior officers and Lord Kenobi himself. You're very prepared and ready to show him how qualified you are. Yet, as soon as those golden eyes lock onto yours, your mind is flooded with images of him and you doing every dirty act you can imagine. You try to focus and answer the questions as best as you can, but each time you look at him, a new filthy scenario comes to mind. At least Lord Kenobi looks amused, and you can only wonder what he must think. The interview ends and you're crushed thinking you've blown you're only chance at working more closely with him.

Ugh OKAY look you can’t keep doing this to me my heart CANNOT take this! Here you go!

(the thot inbox is open fyi if y’all want to send some in!)

Your superiors have been raving about your work for weeks now. Reports? 100% accuracy. Your subordinates? All in line, and most of them even give you good reviews. Your inventory? Not a single nutri-cracker unaccounted for. You’ve been receiving so many positive remarks that you feel like you are literally glowing whenever you turn your data pad on. You’ve been sending money back to your elderly parents back home, and they’ve been taking good care of the rest of the family. You…you really do hope to retire soon, and go back to them. You just want to see them again.

You’re at your desk for another day of reading and filing paperwork when your pad buzzes. A frown crosses your face - you’ve silenced non-critical alerts. The only people who should be able to bypass that are much higher than you in the organization. Nervously, you turn it over and check it, hoping your superior won’t catch you reading messages

Your presence is required for an interview in conference room 19-562.1A at 3:00 PM. Do not be late.

You check the sender, but there’s nothing there except an official stamp from the Corps of Logistics. There’s a tap at your door.

“Lieutenant, reading messages? On the job?” your superior asks in a vaguely teasing tone and you put your pad down in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you say, “I got a note saying that I’m scheduled for an interview at 3? Do you know anything about it?” They shake their head and you frown again.

“Who is it from?” they ask, coming around to your side of the desk.

“It’s a generic message,” you say, showing them the message. “But it’s on the executive floor…” They sigh.

“Well, either someone is really happy with you, or they’re really pissed at you.” You nod in response, and turn worried eyes up at your superior.

“If…anything happens…you’ll send my last check to my family, right?” They give you a mirthless smile and nod. “Your service has been exemplary thus far…we should be able to arrange that.”

You know what organization you work for and the dangers it brings. All it takes is one misinterpreted look and you could be thrown in prison. Or worse.

At 2:40 PM, you head out for your meeting. It’s a short elevator ride away, but if you’re late, you might as well shoot yourself and save them the trouble. You step out into the marble-clad atrium and then step through the ostentatious glass doors. A secretary at the desk gives you a look, their eyes sliding from your rank bar to your face.

“May I help you?” they ask, and you feel like you are being judged harshly by this random person. Still, you nod respectfully and give your name and rank. Then you add on, a bit unnecessarily, “I have an appointment, but I am not certain with whom. Only a generic stamp was used.” They look down at the pad and tilt their head. “Go take a seat. You will be seen shortly.”

You murmur a hasty, polite thank you and sink down into one of the plush velvet chairs. You cross one leg over the other neatly, your hat in your lap, and your eyes focused on the wall in front of you. The entire room is decorated in harsh scarlets, golds, and white marble, and it looks atrocious. You wonder who committed the crime of decorating here. At least the window grants you a view of the beautiful city outside.

You’re being watched, of course, by the secretary and the numerous cameras around the place, undoubtedly looking for something. You keep as calm as you can. At precisely 3, the door opens. The secretary doesn’t look at you as you get to your feet and head in, following the droid. It leads you to yet another room, where the decor is tastefully done in earthy colors. You wait at the door, standing at attention, waiting for the person who had called you -

“Sweetheart,” comes the familiar purr. Your body jerks in surprise and your pulse skyrockets. “Sir,” the reply falls automatically from your lips.

You can feel as he comes into the room, his electric presence brushing up against the corners of your mind. He sinks down in his chair and crosses one long, lean leg over the other. He rests his chin in his hand as he watches you. Like before, the presence is subtle, golden, as he tastes your mind. Once he’s satisfied, he gestures you forward. You stop just in front of him, hands at your sides as you stand at attention.

“Your performance has been exemplary this quarter,” he says. “Were you thinking about having my cock, sweetheart? Or are there other reasons?”

You can’t stop yourself from thinking about your family still living in near-poverty back home, and you decide it’s best to be honest. It’s not like he doesn’t already know what you’re thinking.

“Having your cock would be nice, sir,” you say. “But I also have family back home. My brother…he wants to become an artist.” You cut yourself off from your rambling. Don’t be a distraction. He didn’t ask for you to elaborate. Lord Kenobi hums as he looks at the pad in his hands.

“Truly phenomenal work, sweetheart…perhaps it is time for your reward?” he asks, looking up at you. Pure heat fills you, and he gestures for you to sit down. He levitates another pad to you.

Position: Imperial Administrative Assistant, Level 7 Pay Grade: 7A - SRT5 Hours: Standard Travel: 25% of the month is typical, but may require longer stretches depending on circumstance. Clearance: 8-TN9 or Higher Qualifications: Recommendation from superior. Five years in administrative assistant position, specialization in diplomacy/negotiations…

You frown in confusion. He watches you intently. The pay increase is mind-boggling.

“I’ve recommended you for a transfer,” he purrs. “Should you accept, you and I will be seeing each other far more frequently.”

You stare down at the pad for a moment, “Lord Kenobi, I am truly honored…however, I do not have these qualifications…and I am afraid I won’t be able to provide the same level of service I am providing in my current position. Will that be a problem?”

He gives you one of those soft, dangerous smiles. “That will be no issue. You will be taught all you need to know.”

At long last, you swallow down your anxiety, and ask, “If I pass the interview…who would I be working with?” He waves your comment off. “Do not concern yourself with that information. Your interview is at 4 PM.” You frown. “Tomorrow?” He gives you an annoyed look.

“Today,” he says curtly, and pure horror fills you.

“What? I haven’t prepared - my resume isn’t updated,” you babble out, “I don’t have recommendations, and I haven’t even had a chance to ask my references for permission to give their information out - sir, I - “ He waves you away. “You’ll be fine. You may go wait in the lobby for the interview.”

Standing on shaking legs, you get to your feet and scuttle away. The secretary doesn’t give you a second look as you step out into the blazing red and gold hellscape in the lobby. You take a minute to try and center yourself - you’re being tested under pressure, that’s what they’re doing. They want to know you can handle last minute changes. Swallowing, you sit down and try to go over the questions you could still remember from your interview for your current position.

All too soon, you’re called back for the interview, and you step into the same room as before. You can see six much higher ranking individuals at a desk. Lord Kenobi sits at the head of the table, his golden eyes fixed on you. Oh, you’re fucked. So, so fucked. Your mouth is dry as Tattooine right now, and you’re pretty sure you’re shaking in your boots. You sit down at the end of the table by yourself.

The first few questions are standard - name, rank, how long you’ve been working at the Empire, and what your daily routine is like. As the nerves start to wear off, you feel a tiny bit more comfortable, and your death grip on your hat loosens. The Admiral asks your first landmine question, probably designed to test your diplomatic skill.

“Why did you apply for this position?” he asks, his nose curling slightly as he looks down at your profile, “You haven’t the qualifications.”

“I was recommended for this position, sir,” you say calmly. “I am aware I am unqualified, but it is my greatest hope that I can continue learning so that I may perform well, if I am chosen for this role.”

- warmth engulfs you, and you’re spread out in a nest of soft, silken sheets and pillows. A warm, wet mouth covers yours as a hand squeezes your thigh. As your head falls back, you feel something probing at your folds, something warm and blunt and -

You swallow and try to push the thought away as the others discuss something between themselves. You try to ignore the heat rising in your belly as another Admiral speaks.

“...and are you aware of what this position will entail, exactly?” she asks, a brow raised at you.

You recite the requirements back at them, and they share a look between themselves. They go back to muttering.

- a gasp falls from your lips as you dig your fingernails into someone’s back. His cock starts to inch inwards, spreading your slick walls open. He’s so, so thick it makes you squirm and whine, forcing you to gasp for air as your poor little pussy strains to take him all in -

Oh no, not right now. Why is your brain misbehaving? You hope they can’t tell that you’re squirming in your chair as you try to remain calm.

“Lord Kenobi, I do not believe she is fully educated on what this position will entail,” the Admiral says carefully. “I think it would be…ethical…if we reiterate the requirements to her.”

Lord Kenobi gives you a small smirk.

- he finally seats himself all the way inside, drawing a short, soft cry from you. His teeth find your shoulder and he starts to move. As he pumps into your body, your sodden cunt makes the most obscene sounds, wet and loud and messy -

“She knows exactly what she will be doing if she chooses to work under me,” Lord Kenobi says.

With a rush, you realize that’s why he recommended you for this role. Pure heat fills you - this time, it’s all your own, and you gnaw on your lower lip. Boldly, you look him in the eye and ask the most important question you have for him.

“Would I be your slave, sir?” you ask. “Or will I be your equal?”

The others exchange a look as Lord Kenobi gives you a long look. You’re not going to be a toy to be tossed aside once he’s bored. If he really wants you in his bed, if he truly wishes to have you, he will have to be prepared to have all of you. And if he’s not prepared to give you that, you’re not sure you can fulfill that role in his life. Sith Lord or not, you will be treated with respect, and you will not settle for anything less. He smirks at you.

“You can never be my equal,” he says, and you know that’s true. You’re not a Sith lady, and you don’t have the same desire for conquest that he does. “But…you will never be a toy. You will be mine - body, mind, and soul. You will sit by my side, and only mine.”

“Does that go both ways, sir?” you dare to ask.

He laughs.

“Come here, sweetheart,” he says, and you obey. You hope the Admirals can’t see the shaking of your legs, or how drenched the back of your pants are. Lord Kenobi pats his knee and you sink down, embarrassed of the wet spot you will undoubtedly leave on his linen pants. He tilts your face up to his and stares deeply into your eyes.

“You will serve me well,” he says.

“I’ll send the transfer orders,” one of the Admirals says. “You have chosen well, Lord Kenobi.”

“You may leave,” Lord Kenobi says to the Admirals. “I require privacy with my new assistant.”

#star wars #asks #firstofficerwiggles #obi-wan kenobi #sith obi-wan kenobi #sith obi-wan #sith obi wan x f!reader #sith obi-wan x you #spicy

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dirtbra1n · 7 months

Note

hihihi tashiro anon here guess who got access to the second years novel :)

do you ever think about how tashiros a natural charmer? to the point kuresawa talks about being hesitant about intruding him to his girlfriend even though he has full trust on him? how him being on a all boys school almost seems like a missed opportunity?

now add this to the way how tashiro struggles with emotions, i think he would be quite obvious when hes involved in anything romance related. only when its his own tho, that boy is way too observant of his surroundings and his friends despite looking like he doesnt think most of the time (which is another interesting point, tashiros own pov reveals another side of his character to you, i think)

i dont know honestly,, i was just thinking about how theres multiple instances of tashiro asking romance related questions to his friends to understand it better, only to get more confused at the explanation. if hanzawa to tashiro ever become real, it probably would have quite a different tone than the other two thanks to our main characters

hihihi tashiro anon CONGRATULATIONS ON THE SECOND YEARS NOVEL sorry I’m late I wanted to finish writing tashiro post before replying to you. as a sort of Gift. but it’s getting long so Here we are

I THINK ABOUT IT. SO MUCH. this is a personal realization I’m having right now that tashiro in his own right has so much magnetism…. so charming so easy to like…… SUCH A GOOD GUY, ALSO…!!!! I actually get really emotional thinking about kuresawa’s narration. just every instance of it. because he really does like and care about his friends and he talks about them in such. AN ENDEARING DEVASTATING WAY……….. but the way he talks about tashiro specifically is such a big beautiful Window (kuresawa’s eyes) to tashiro (and his minute details)

so when you think about That, and think about the night trip they were all on, and tashiro’s first love being Sorry I went back to start rereading this bit and I’m feeling kinda weepy suddenly. kuresawa using a soft tone of voice with miyano and making a concerted effort not to say anything too mean out loud. tashiro shirahama back-and-forth. shirahama fussy about his appearance and working hard at playing stylist. I understood—Tashiro was such a straight shooter with his kind words that you could get a little bashful. also while I’m here Suddenly laser focused in on I wonder if [Shirahama] had a crushing story of first love, too, even if he wouldn’t fess up to it. ha ha. anyway

TASHIRO’S FIRST LOVE no hold on I’m getting distracted again tashiro’s ears perking up when he hears ‘ping-pong’ Auh. whys this guy so cute. and unknowingly passionate Agony! BUT TASHIRO’S FIRST LOVE, THOUGH, GOD. “probably a teacher in elementary school or something” <- non-answer that he came to after thinking about it for-ever. My type is whoever I have a thing for at that particular moment.

I’m just really trying to get at tashiro’s facets lately. he’s so much. a hundred different angles to look at him from.

thinking about hanzawa to tashiro from the outside is so so so much fun. malleable enough to be fruitful in anyone’s hands. as efficient at trapping people as like. a bog pit or something. forces people to really think about and poke and prod at two guys who’ve got a lot more going on than a lot of people give them credit for. tashiro would have been so popular romantically if he was at a coed school but he didn’t go to one. is always asking questions. who could possibly be a better companion in weird love for hanzawa masato than tashiro gonzaburou, who’s also just. so weird about love.

I’d still kill to see harusono’s hanzawa to tashiro. the potential it has for being weird and strangely visceral. Please. please……

#delightful as always to see you tashiro anon……#askbox #i want to see harusono’s romantic horror chops again…….. so so so so so good……….. Man #this might be all over the place by the way. i was on the train Sorry about that

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izvmimi · 2 years

Text

WSB (and WSHB) - Chapter XI

cw: penultimate chapter. angst.

Masterlist

Months pass.

“I still think this is excessive,” your mother huffs. She isn’t looking at you as she continues to fuss, the same way she has for the past two hours - rather she looks around at the many passersby that thankfully don’t recognize you in your low profile disguise of a hat and large sunglasses, and frowns.

“Your father or brother should have come to help you with these bags. Why are you packing like you’re starting over anyway? I thought this was a yearlong fellowship!”

“Who knows? Maybe I’ll stay.” you answer, somewhat dispassionately. When you turn to look at her, she looks genuinely horrified and you can’t help but giggle.

“Probably not, but it’s fun to imagine,” you joke. You lay your head on her shoulder and in irritation she shakes you off gently.

“You’re ridiculous.” she retorts. “You’ll let a couple of boys run you from your mother ?”

“It has nothing to do with them!”

She gives you a hard look and you frown back.

“I’m serious!” you insist. “This is an excellent learning opportunity for me!”

She looks at you again, her glare harder this time, then sighs. It’s not like she can say much else. The ticket is bought, and the apartment is rented, and you will now spend the next year in the United States no matter what she tells you.

“Whatever you say. Anyway, a change in pace might be good for you.”

You nod.

Things have been too messy in the past two months, and perhaps you were running but it’s necessary. You need a breath of fresh air after all that has happened.

…

“You know at some point I blamed you for killing my child.” Ochaco says, with a smile that is almost disturbingly kind despite her harsh candor. You sit face to face with her, just outside of your clinic, and she brushes her hair behind her ear demurely as if she hadn’t just accused you of feticide.

And yet you understand, especially when she confesses, “I would have had the thought if I were in your position.”

You blink, unsure what to say in response. You don’t even know why she’s here, or what she’s here for. When she’d asked you to meet, just a month after the incident, and a week after you’d racked up the courage to leave a get well soon basket at her front door, you’d expected her to do nothing short of challenge you to a duel.

But instead, she’s calm now, and her eyes are bright.

“I’m sorry,” she says, and you’re taken aback.

Should you be offended? Is she apologizing for sleeping with the man you loved? Or was she apologizing for hating you? Or for just throwing out the gift basket?

What was the apology for?

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you say in a small voice. Ochaco shakes her head.

“I did. Trust me.”

The look she gives you is strange, and the look you give her is stranger still, but you decide not to say anything more. Too much has happened and it is easier to forgive and move on.

“I’m relinquishing any hard feelings against you. Against anyone.” she finally decides, rising to her feet. You look up at her, and she actually looks well, her cheeks rosy, her complexion better than it’s been since she was pregnant.

You hesitate to say anything, and she bows slightly before holding onto her purse strap tightly.

“I understand if you don’t want to forgive me, and you have the right not to.”

You’ve always hated that she was cute, but now all of a sudden, something about her is non-threatening for real. For the very first time in a while.

You bow back.

“Thank you for coming.”

And you mean it.

…

You kiss your mother goodbye and give her a tight hug as you make it past the theoretical point of no return, and head off to your gate. The usual promises are made - call me when you get there, stay safe, don’t fall in love, etc. You grab a large iced coffee deciding to forgo any consideration of time zones or the likes, and take a seat.

You let out a deep breath.

You are alone, finally. You’ve said goodbye to your friends and family, and Tessa especially is away on a mission and can’t send you off with any more than a slew of sad emojis.

Momo will call you when you land. She was the one who told Shoto finally that you were leaving, and he hasn’t called or texted since.

You aren’t exactly waiting for his call and yet it feels strange for things to end like this. Perhaps one day, you think. One day you’ll give him a proper apology, and one day he’ll be willing to hear it.

You’re tired of apologizing to people. There were far too many people involved in you and Midoriya’s mess. Even Momo had admonished you for hurting him, and there was nothing you could say to counter her, because it was true. What hurt more was to know that she’d loved him too, and kept it to herself.

A deep sigh runs through your body. You lean into your chair and check your boarding pass once again.

There’s an unopened text from about an hour ago that you’ve been trying to ignore, but the preview is enough for you to understand.

Have a safe trip. I love you.

You’re called to board, and try not to look behind you.

---

Months pass.

“Good work today, you should take off.”

Your research mentor glances at you from around his large desktop screen, and practically shoos you out of his office.

“Are you sure? It’s only-” you check your phone, “like 3pm and-” you start, and he interrupts you, shaking his head.

“I’ll wrap up and close, just make sure to have a good day! You’ve spent way too many late nights here anyway.”

He offers you a smile, and you grin back widely. You don’t need to be told twice.

It’s barely 3pm and you’re in sunny Los Angeles, California. 9 months have passed since you started your fellowship, and your thesis paper on outcomes of Quirk incompatibility in utero is on track to be completed in the next three months, and perhaps you might actually return to Japan with a new fund of knowledge and new hope.

And you’re not afraid to do so anymore.

Things are admittedly different back home, according to Tessa’s late night phone calls, but the dust has cleared for the most part. Ochaco has made a couple of videos talking about her miscarriage experience which has catapulted her even higher in the realm of cinnamon roll fame, and you don’t wish that against her. You especially are happy that she’s finally noticed Iida, who you’ve always thought was a better match for her, even if you wondered if that had to do with some personal bias. Momo sheepishly has forgiven you but has told you she’d be honest with her feelings, and while she hasn’t made a move on Shoto yet (as far as you know), you hope it’ll be well received and wish her the best.

You’re waiting for Tessa to announce she’s pregnant, to which she says you’ll be waiting forever. Your bet is in the next couple of years, regardless.

You’ve listened to your mother and haven’t fallen in love.

Your apartment waits for you in the same slightly messy condition you left it that morning, bed unmade and windows partially open, bathing your long-suffering potted plants in sunlight but not water. You make a note to water them accordingly and in doing so nearly trip over a pair of haphazardly placed slippers.

There are Tinder matches on your phone waiting for your response given that it’s Friday night and you’re still young and single and fairly attractive. Loneliness is a curse.

You swipe left and right and left and right and have no energy to flirt. There’s nothing in your fridge but water, Soylent and a single slice of three day old pizza.

It’ll do.

You take a bite and the crust nearly takes out your front tooth.

Never mind.

---

There’s a small shop at the end of the block from your apartment complex that sells savory and sweet crepes that you simultaneously frequent too often and not often enough.

It takes about twenty minutes from door to door to end up seated in a small patio chair looking at the rest of the city, picking at a crepe with mixed mushrooms.

Your co-fellows are organizing a happy hour for later that evening, from the text chain blowing up your phone, and you can anticipate the angry texts from your only friend in the States if you flake once again.

Your phone rings suddenly, and it’s an unknown number. You assume it’s a classmate whose name you haven’t saved trying to figure out a head count since you haven’t answered, but instead it’s a familiar voice that responds to your hello.

“Hey. Where are you right now?”

Your heart skips a beat. Straight to the point.

“W-what does that mean? What time is it in Japan?” you reply, putting your fork down.

“I’m not in Japan. I’m in your city.”

“H-how?”

He laughs.

“Planes.”

You swallow hard, dumbfounded.

“Drop your location and I’ll come to you… if you’ll have me,” he adds. You’re not sure that last part is necessary.

You’re no longer raw from everything that has happened.

“I… really want to see you.”

“I… I want to see you, too."

---

The car that finds its way in front of your apartment complex looks a bit high-end for a rental, and as Izuku steps out from the back you realize he’s not the one driving.

He looks… good. His haircut is fresh, and only a few of his curls are out of place, and his smile is wide as he sees you. There are no new scars on his face, and the old ones along the exposed parts of his arms are unchanged, as are the number and extent of his freckles. His olive chinos match too closely to his eyes and hair, and clash terribly with the light pink open checkered top. A white undershirt clings nicely to his broad chest.

He looks good and he looks bad and you miss him all the same.

He says something to the driver in accented English quickly, then rounds the corner to embrace you, before hesitating.

So you fall into him instead, holding him tight. It’s meant to be platonic, but the hug lasts too long, and he holds you too tightly back, and you allow him to.

“I missed you,” he whispers into the top of your head.

You laugh into his chest.

“Stalker.”

When you pull back, you can clearly see his frown. “I’m here for a Hero Commission meeting actually, I’ll have you know. I didn’t follow you across the globe.”

You smile, but there’s a tiny bit of sadness that’s betrayed in your eyes, and he quickly rectifies himself.

“I would if you wanted me to,” he says quickly, and takes one of your hands. You pull back quickly, and he grimaces, but then changes the subject.

“Are you hungry?”

“I just ate,” you reply sweetly. He takes it in stride, and takes your hand again. This time you don’t pull away.

“Accompany me to dinner then and I’ll buy you dessert.”

You make a show of reconsidering, but follow him anyway into the car.

---

“You should know that I’m seeing someone,” you say suddenly, while Izuku is halfway through a bite of an overloaded, overpriced burger. It nearly falls out of his mouth, but he catches himself, sauce still decorating the corner of his mouth. You resist the urge to lean over and wipe it off for him, and sit perfectly still.

“Okay,” he answers. There’s a tiny bit of satisfaction that pulls at the corner of your lips as you see him visibly sweat then re-steady himself, but then you admonish yourself for being childish.

But you don’t tell the truth, and the subject changes.

Izuku has done work on himself. Hours are still long and arduous, but he tells you he’s taken a little bit of your advice and bargained for more vacation, and, in his own words,

“Kacchan is gunning just as hard as I am so I shouldn’t act like all responsibilities are on me.”

You smile and pick a fry off his plate.

“It only took you this long to realize,” you tease as you bite. “It didn’t matter that I said it until I lost my voice, did it?”

He smiles sheepishly.

“I’m slow sometimes, but I get there. Just be patient with me.”

His green eyes twinkle with hope.

...

You part ways as friends. There’s another hug that is less emotionally charged as the first but with more relief. All is fine.

“I have until the rest of the week to be here. Can we meet again?” he asks.

You stand at the front of your apartment building, and he’s earnestly waiting for your response. You hold leftover food in a to-go bag and your work group chat has not stopped buzzing from the phone in your pocket. It’s dark, and the truth is, you want to speak more, but you don’t like what that means for you.

“I have to finish a paper this week, but I’ll let you know.”

Izuku offers you half a smile.

“Thanks.”

---

“You gave him my address, didn’t you?”

It takes you about an hour to put your things in order, shower, and get Tessa on a phone call. She pretends she doesn’t know what you’re talking about for a split second, then grins mischievously.

“So Izuku came to see you, I take it?”

You pause, letting the twitch in your brow settle.

“For what reason did you do this?”

Tessa’s mouth moves to the side and she looks over her shoulder, probably to her husband, lurking somewhere in the background, who would probably get annoyed about what she says next.

“Because I still think you’re meant to be.”

Your eyes narrow, and perhaps you are cruel.

“What if it were you?”

Tessa has known you long enough that she takes your claws in stride. It’s a question she’s anticipated, and her answer is prepared, almost too well.

“I already told you, it’s different.”

“Different-”

“Yup!” she interjects, clapping her hands together. Adjusting herself in her swivel chair as she continues her defense, she continues. “Either way, it’s on you if you want to fully forgive him, but from my view, you’re about 90% of the way there.”

You grit your teeth.

Tessa’s smile stops, and her tone shifts. She even leans in, and her voice is calm but clear.

“I don’t care if you don’t get back together and I’ll support you either way.”

“So why…?” you lean back into your covers holding a pillow across your chest and Tessa can tell you’ve softened as you sigh in defeat.

“Tell me how it was.”

---

“It’s my last day here,” Izuku says.

You’ve reconvened after three days of pretending you were too busy to tell him you wanted to hear his voice again. Dinner is a little less casual this time as Izuku insists on spending his plentiful Hero Association allotment. In underused stiletto heels and a dress you’ve worn once this year, you find your way back to your apartment for a nightcap.

“I hope you had a good time,” you offer him, realizing you don’t have wine, and sheepishly offering him sparkling water in a wine glass.

“I realized I didn’t have alcohol up here,” you admit.

He takes it from you then laughs, before drinking it down at once.

“There’s nothing wrong with water,” he says. “But yeah, I had as good as a time as work can be, anyway.”

As you make your way to sit down on the couch next to him, shrugging your shoulders sympathetically, he adds, “Then again, you’ve made it better.”

“When’s your flight?” you ask, sipping from your own glass.

“In a couple hours.”

You nearly spit out your drink.

“Shouldn’t you be leaving now?”

Izuku turns to you more readily. “I’m not in a hurry.”

You blink, and again the pettier part of you rises up and decides to cause havoc.

“Isn’t there someone at home missing you?” you taunt, “While you’re wining and dining me?”

His lips pull into a thin line and for once, you actually feel bad for messing with him.

“No… and that’s not fair, ___,” he says in a small voice.

“I had to ask.”

There’s a short silence and you hope he’ll change the subject, but Izuku doesn’t let up. His body turns towards you, and his hands in steeple position, rested on his pressed slacks, he presses you for more.

“How about the guy you’re seeing?”

For a moment, you forget that you told him this. You grimace.

“There is none.”

Izuku’s face seems to nearly bloom in hope and you blush. You almost wonder why, if he actually believed you, would he be here in your apartment, but remember that men and women can be friends.

Perhaps not the two of you, you consider. But the possibility is still there.

“That doesn’t mean…” you start, but he hugs you.

“I know.”

Your heart thumps and thumps and thumps and you can feel his. Again, he’s too excited, and you’re too excited and you don’t want to fall again, so you find yourself resisting.

“... I think it’s time for you to leave,” you mutter as you peel him off you. He laughs off the words, but releases you quickly, and his smile is sad as you lead him to the door.

“You should make your flight,” you insist. He checks his phone, then looks at you.

“Yeah.”

The two of you stand in the hallway, facing each other. Izuku’s back is to the door and he looks down at you. Neither of you budge. You move past him to place your hand on the door handle, and he shifts ever so slightly to allow you. It remains in your hand. Neither of you move.

Seconds pass and your hand falls to your side.

He says your name, softly, barely higher than a whisper and you tense. Your face grows hot and then you turn, and you look at him.

His hand raises and settles on the curve of your cheek; it’s calloused and scarred, and yet to you softer than the fur of a newborn kitten.

The plane will depart in mere hours and his schedule is tight. You are just unwilling friends brought together by the nostalgia of high school and the ties of an immature, painful, selfish love.

And yet, you stand in each other’s presence.

“I don’t want to leave,” he whispers softly. His voice barely cracks, and yet you hear the vulnerability therein. Your hand slowly raises and covers his with the palm, and he waits for you to reject him, yet again, but this time, you caress the back of his hand softly, and take his free hand in your other one.

Hand in hand, you step backward as though you were dancing, and he follows suit. One step becomes two, then three, then more, until the back of your knees press against the side of your couch.

There is nowhere to retreat to.

“I don’t want you to go,” you croak out. Your words come out with a heaviness similar to an anchor sinking into the deepest depth of the ocean.

Izuku’s eyelids flutter but then his stare fixes again, focusing on you. You, who are everything he’s ever wanted, and then some. Perhaps too much. Enough that he admits,

“Tell me to stay and I will.”

It’s not a bluff this time, and you don’t need to bother with ultimatums.

You don’t think twice.

“Stay. Just for tonight.”

His arms wrap around your waist.

“Done.”

#izuku x reader #thoughts: izuku #daydreams: bnha #mimi writes: wsbwshb #mimi's notes

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