#that i can just let go for a while and pick all that other stuff up again when i need it. that i didnt even really need to please them

[twice-my-age-simp]

You can't be with her!

KateBishopxFem!reader, WandaNatxDaughter!reader

Warnings: little bit of angst, fluff, smut, making out, strap-on, top!Kate

Summary: Your moms found out about your relationship with Kate and are not happy with it. They want to keep you safe, unintentionally hurting you while doing that.

Notes: Sorry for my long absence. Here's a new one shot for you. I think it's the longest work I've ever written so far. Enjoy reading this piece.

Word count: 5.2k

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You knew you were in trouble. It was obvious. Especially after they broke into the house and you saw a very angry ex-assassin and a very pissed witch in the living room. But, let’s start from the beginning ‘cause what a story it is.

 

8 hours earlier

 

“No, there is no way.” your mom said firmly, standing in the kitchen with her hands on her hips. You stood up from your chair and walked closer to her.

“Why? You can’t just do that.” you fighted back. You couldn’t believe this is happening and centrally won’t let it become the truth. You love your moms and you know they always try to do what’s best for you, but this time they were in the wrong.

“I can and I just did. You can’t see Kate anymore.” Nat said with a stern look, tightening her jaw. You turned from her to your other mom. “Mama, won’t you say anything?” you asked, a pleading look on your face.

Wanda, who was standing and listening to the conversation this whole time, walked closer to her wife. “Y/N, sweety, we’re just looking out for you.” she answered gently. You felt absolutely helpless, hurt and angry.

“You can’t make this decision for me. It’s my life and my relationship.” you spoked, hoping that they will change their minds. 

“You are our daughter and still a child. It is as we say.” Nat added, not backing up. It’s hard to fight an assassin, even if it is not a physical fight. “Listen, we don’t want to be the bad guys here or make your life miserable. It’s just..” Nat signed. “Kate is an Avenger. This job is very dangerous and being with her can put you in life threatening danger. It’s already risky considering that you are our daughter.“

“I’m not a child anymore, I’m 21 years old. Nothing bad will happen to me. Please, I love her. Y-you can’t do that.” your eyes started to fill up with tears, your voice’s slowly breaking.

“I’m sorry, but that’s final.” Hearing that, you rushed to your room, locking yourself in it. You threw yourself on your bed and started crying.

Everything was good before. Your moms didn’t know about your relationship. You successfully kept it from them for a little over a year, always saying that you were going out with some friends. But of course, they had to walk in on you and Kate making out in the training room when you were visiting the Avengers in the compound, because they had some stuff to take care of. Nat immediately took you to the car. The drive home was silent, but when you got inside, they started saying that you needed to end things with Kate for “your own good”.

You picked up your phone, opened contacts and dialed the phone number. It was three rings after that the person answered. “Hi, Y/N.” said the angelic voice on the other side. It was all it took you to utter a sob, breaking down more from just hearing her. “Y/N? What’s wrong? Does it have something to do with your moms finding out about us?” Kate asked with a concerned tone. You didn’t want to tell her about your fight because it would make it true and you couldn’t let that happen. However, Kate deserves to know. Maybe you can come up with a solution and everything will be great again. At least you hoped so.

“Kate-” you sobbed. “They want me to break up with you.” you cried out. Silence enveloped the room. You didn’t know if it was because she hung up or she was shocked. Pulling the phone from your ear, you looked at the screen; okay, she’s still there. “Kate? Please, say something.”

After a few seconds, you heard her say, you think she’s also crying. “I don’t know what to say.” she cleared her throat and added. “There’s nothing I can do? Maybe they can still change their mind?”

“I don’t think so.” You said. The truth is, if there was anything that would change this, you would already do it. Sad reality hit you. Your moms don’t want you to be with Kate. Then you wondered if it was even important to you. I mean, of course, you want them to approve of your relationship, but they don’t. They just don’t understand that she’s the love of your life. Your whole heart. Your everything. At that moment, you made up your mind. “You know what? I don’t care what they say; I want to be with you. I love you, Kate. ” you said, determined, wiping the tears from your cheeks with the back of your hand. Your moms are not gonna come in between your love life. You won’t let them.

“I love you too and I want to be with you for the rest of my life. Are you sure, though? I mean, they are your moms. I don’t want your relationship with them to be destroyed because of me.” Kate said, her voice slowly quieting. You can’t help but feel your heart grow bigger with love for her if it is still even possible. She cares about you so much, you couldn’t be more sure about your decision.

“Yes, I want to be with you forever, Katie.” you said truthfully. “I can’t imagine my life without you.”

“I can’t imagine my life without you too. What are we gonna do about your moms?” she asked.

“I don’t know, yet.” you said. You didn’t like to lie to your moms, but in this case, you feel like you have to. “Maybe we can meet up today? I can say that I need to go for a walk to clear my mind or something. You can park your car a few streets away.” you said hopefully. “Sure, be there in an hour.” With that, you ended the call.

Kate will be here in an hour, so you intend to spend this time on getting ready. You had to wear something not too fancy for a walk but not too ugly for a hangout with your girlfriend. ‘Girlfriend’, after all this time you’ve been together, you still can’t believe you get to call her that. It makes your heart flutter every time.

After some time of thinking about what to wear and getting mentally ready to lie to your moms, you were ready to leave. Walking down the stairs, you opt to look upset, but without it looking weird. You know it is hard to lie to a witch and an ex-assassin.

You slowly made your way to put on some shoes when someone called from behind. “And where are you going, young lady?” You turned to see Nat with her arms crossed. “I hope it isn’t the girl I clearly said is dangerous for you to hang out with.” She said sternly.

That got your blood boiling. “If you want to know, I’m going for a walk to clear my head, because my mother said I can’t be with the love of my life!” You shouted, tears started to well up again. Nat stood a little shocked at the outburst but quickly recovered. “Quit the tone; you know I do this for your safety. I just want to protect you.” She said the last part a little softer.

“Whatever.” You said and walked out of the house, shutting the door.

You turned left and started going down the street; hopefully Kate is already there. As you walk, you make yourself slightly more presentable, fixing the hair and wiping the tears that once again started to flow because of the encounter with your mom. Turning left, you see Kate’s car parked on the side of the road. Smiling, you increased your speed and got into the car.

“Hi-” Kate didn’t manage to greet you because you immediately pulled her by her shirt into a long, passionate kiss. Your fist, full of the fabric, pulled Kate closer. Her hands flew to grip the back of your neck. Both missed the physical contact. Your lips, made to fit like two pieces, were moving against each other, stealing breath. Your lungs started to feel like they were on fire, but that didn't stop you from giving yourself to Kate in that kiss.

After a few minutes, you pull away from the kiss but still keep close to Kate. Your hand full of her shirt slightly loosens, yet the grip is still there. “Sorry, I just really missed you.” You said, looking down flustered. Finally, your eyes moved up, looking deeply into hers. “Hi.” you added after a moment of silence.

Kate smiled at you. “Hi.” She replied, giggling breathlessly. “I missed you too. So much.” 

It’s so stupid how her smile and the little glint in her eyes can make you all giggly and weak in knees. You know you loved her to the moon and back, you can’t give up on your relationship just because your moms tell you to, not when everything in you is screaming that Kate is the endgame, your endgame.

“Hey, hey, hey. What's wrong?” you felt Kate's hands on your face, thumbs wiping your cheeks. You didn't realize that you were crying. Every emotion's built up in you, and right when you saw her, you just had to let it all go. “It's just, I don't want to be away from you. I love you so much and I'm sick of this sneaking out, or my moms telling me that I can’t be with you.” you sniffled, looking into her eyes. “God, you are everything I want. I want to be with you forever. When I think about my future, I see you and me, and I don’t care what our lives will look like as long as we are together; that's everything I want.” You really poured your heart out there. It’s not typical for you to be this vulnerable in front of Kate—actually in front of anyone; you’ve always kept everything to yourself. 

Now that you think of it, you think you might have scared Kate. She’s silent, just staring at you, hands still on your face. You think you blew it, that it was too much for her. After all, you’ve been dating for only a little over a year. Thoughts started to flood your mind, creating the worst scenarios and just when you were about to apologize-

“Marry me.” Kate said, her face not showing any emotions. You were speechless; did you hear it right? Kate asked you to marry her? Well, it wasn’t really a question, more like as if she just admitted to herself that she wants to marry you. Nonetheless, there is still a part of you that believes that you heard it wrong. “What?” You breathed out, your eyes searching for reassurance in hers.

“Marry me.” She repeated more confidently this time as if coming back to life. “I’m serious. I know that we haven’t been dating for long, but I also want to be with you forever. I love you and I don’t want to be with anyone else; you are the only one for me. I want everything with you, I want you. This won’t be easy, but that’s great. Easy is boring.” you both giggled at that. “This is reckless and not normal at all, but let’s just be for real. We are reckless and nothing in our lives is normal, I mean, your moms are a witch and an ex-assassin and I am an Avenger. Nothing ever was normal and nothing will be, and frankly, I love it this way.” Kate ended her heartwarming speech with a big smile on her face, tears now also in her eyes. “So, Y/N Romanoff, will you marry me?”

“Yes!” You said matching her smile. “Of course I will marry you.” Pulling the shirt you still had a grip on, you pull Kate into a slow kiss, filled with salty tears. You think you’ve never been so sure about anything in your life. Honestly, that’s all you ever wanted, to marry the love of your life and that is marrying Kate Bishop.

“Good, cause I thought for a second that I went too far.” Kate started to ramble after pulling away. You thought that the best way to stop her from that was to kiss her again. It didn’t last long though, because after a few seconds she pulled back again. She turned so she’s sitting straight, her back to the seat, and started to wave her hands around. “Oh my, I need to buy a ring. God! I’m so unprepared!” You tried to stop her by calling her name, but that didn’t really work.

“Katherine Elizabeth Bishop!” Using her full name did work. She stopped immediately and looked at you. You giggled at her. “You need to stop worrying about that. I want to marry you, not the ring. I don’t need any rings, just you, okay?” Kate looked at you as if looking for clarification, then she cutely tilted her head and pouted and that just made you want to kiss her.

“I know, but I really want to get you a ring. You deserve that, you deserve a big proposal with-with rose petals, a nice dinner and a big diamond ring, not this. A girl who proposes in her car without even a paper ring.” She started having doubts about herself; you could see that. “I love that girl. I don’t need some rich and stuck-up proposal. I couldn’t have imagined it better than this.” You made sure she was looking at you as you said that to her. That was the truth, so you wanted her to believe you.

“Okay.. okay.” Kate clears her throat, then adds. “So, shall we go and get married now?” you both smiled at each other. Reaching for seat belts in order to fasten them, you answered. “Yes, we shall.”

 

It turned out it wasn’t that easy. You had to have witnesses. After some thinking, you reached out to Aunt Yelena, while Kate called Clint. Although it took some convincing to get the old man to drive here because, as he said, he doesn’t want to ‘deal with angry mothers anymore’, whatever that means, he might have been referring to Laura, but you’re not sure; you also think that he really just didn’t want to move his three letters.

Well, eventually, he agreed. Yelena didn’t need this much convincing; well, she didn’t need to be convinced at all. She said she’d be happy to piss off her sister; she mentioned something about getting back at her for borrowing, without her knowing, one of her vests and then destroying it on a mission, but you could have misheard.

Kate got anxious again, but this time about clothing. Both of you wore casual clothes, not right for a marriage. So that’s how you got dragged by Kate for a little shopping. It took you both a while, but in Kate's eyes it was worth it, because now you and her looked good.

It wasn’t long before you and Kate signed up the marriage license with Clint and Yelena next to you, and you were good to go. You bit your goodbyes with them, then made your way to Kate’s car. While you were both sitting, the car still not turned on, you realized what just happened. ”We just got married.” Kate stated firmly, her face not showing any emotions while looking straight ahead. You turned your head to look at her. ”We just got married.” She repeated, now with a big smile on her face. Also turning her head to you, she started to giggle. Hearing her laughter, you started to giggle yourself, also not believing that this is real.

Kate leaned in and brought her hand to the back of your neck to pull your foreheads together. ”You are my wife.” She said breathlessly. ”I am your wife.” You said in the same tone. Your wife pulled you into a long, passionate kiss. ”Damn, your moms are really gonna kill me now” Kate said after pulling away. This caused you both to burst out laughing. “Well, if this is my last hour, how about we make the best of it and go back to mine, my wife?“ She asked with a smirk on her face, clearly insinuating on doing something really not PG. Your cheeks turned slightly red, but you matched her smirk. “Lead the way, my wife.”

You’re sure that your superhero broke a few laws driving you to her apartment. Both of you are very eager and excited for what awaits you there. So as soon as the door was closed, Kate pushed you into it, trapping you between the wooden surface and her. Hands flying to your hips, squeezing and pushing more against the hardwood. Lips mingling with yours fastily, tongue pushing into your mouth, exploring the inside. Next thing you know, she was tagging at your pants, trying to take them off. Once you’re free from them, Kate’s hands traveled from your hips, over your ass, stopping on it for a second to squeeze, and then went downwards to the back of your thighs. With one swift movement, you were pulled from the door for a second, only to be pushed against it again, but this time with your legs around Kate’s waist.

Her kisses moved from your lips to nip at your neck, for sure, leaving lots of hickeys. You leaned your head back, revealing more skin on your neck. The particular bite on your pulse point made you moan. Your hands flew to her hair in order to pull her closer. With a mind full of thoughts about Kate, you breathlessly conhered some words. “B-bedroom… now.” you gasped when suddenly Kate pulled you both away from the door and started to blindly walk towards the bedroom. While you were stumbling across the living room, you threw your bag on the table, or at least you hoped it landed on the table, not caring about stuff inside. Though you’re pretty sure that your bag opened from the impact.

After some struggling, your back hit the bed with Kate on top of you. Lips once again connected, Kate started grinding her hips on yours. Suddenly, you felt it—the hardness underneath her pants. “Is-is that-?” You stuttered, then moaned because Kate pressed herself harder on you, so you feel it against your core.

“Mhm, a new one.” Kate smirked at you and again pushed her hips into yours, making you gasp. She leaned down to your neck and started to mark you everywhere she could. When she got to your pulse point, you moaned and gripped the back of her head, burying your fingers into her hair, pulling her closer. You feel hands tagging at your shirt. With your arms up, Kate swiftly takes off your shirt, leaving you in only your panties and bra. However, it doesn’t take long for her to also remove these undergarments. “So pretty.. so delicious, just for me to taste.” Kate’s hands started to wander.

Wanting to see more of Kate, you unbuttoned her shirt, slid it down her arms and then the shirt joined the rest of the clothes on the ground in the bedroom. Your hands immediately flew to her arms to feel her strong muscles. Then, to her abdomen, where she clearly has abs. “One of many perks of being an Avenger; lots of training that makes you have these muscles.” You stare in awe, biting your lip.

Kate leaned down again and nipped at your skin, making her path from your neck to your chest. She took your left nipple in her mouth, sucking on it hard, while her other hand squeezed the right breast. After some time, she switched the breasts and started sucking on the right one. ”Please, Kate… I want you.. now.” you pleaded.

Not wanting to tease you, just this night, Kate pulled away and took off the rest of her clothes, revealing the strap-on. “Purple?” You chuckle a little.

“What? I look good in purple.” Kate grinned and once again got on top of you. The strap was rubbing against your clit, making you shut your eyes and groan softly. “You want my cock, sweetheart?” Kate asked, rubbing her strap even harder.

“Yes! Please, Kate, I want your cock. Please fuck me.” You desperately rumble, your mind full of thoughts of how she can ruin you. This strap is definitely bigger than what you were used to, but you are willing to try this, considering how wet you are for her.

Kate leaned to your ear to whisper. “As you wish, babygirl.” Right after that, she harshly pushed at least a half of the strap in your pussy. Your moans and grunts get louder as she continues to slide in. “Fuck, baby. Always so tight for me.” You shut your eyes tightly as you feel more and more fuller with every second.

Finally, your hips were flush against each other. Your breath is more ragged as you try to get used to the fullness. “Kate… s-so full, fuck, so big” you moaned. After a few more seconds, Kate started to pull out and thrust her hips forward, causing you to let out a loud scream.

Your moans only encouraged Kate to keep going. The thrusts were much harder now; it made your head spin. You wrapped your arms around her back, burying your nails into it. Kate hissed into your ear from the harsh scratches, but it fuelled her to give you more. The room was filled with the sounds of your moans and the slapping of your hips with every thrust. “Kate- shit… I’m going to-” you are cut off by a hoarse groan that bursts out of your throat when Kate hits one particular place.

“It’s okay. Let go for me, baby.” Kate said breathlessly. That was all you needed, and soon your eyes rolled back. You arched your back into her, threw your head back and let out a silent scream. Kate was still thrusting into you as you were falling over the edge. 

After you calmed down, she slowly pulled out of you. You groaned at the emptiness as you were trying to catch your breath. Kate was peppering your body with soft kisses. When she got up to your face, you smiled at each other. “That- that was incredible.” you said panting. “Glad you liked it, my love.” she pecked your lips. With a swift move, you turned you both over, so Kate was now on her back with you on top of her. “Let me return the favor.” you grinned and leaned down to kiss her.

 *****

You were lying on the bed with your head on Kate’s chest. Your arm around her abdomen, leg between hers. Kate has her arm wrapped around your bare body. The covers were loosely thrown on both of you as you were lying together in your own, quiet bubble.

“You know… I was thinking..” Kate started. You turned your head to look at her and wait for her to continue. “Since we are married now” this made you smile. You still can’t believe that this is real and that Kate is your wife now. “Maybe, if you want… you could move in with me.” your eyes widen at her words. A smile spread across your face. You lifted slightly from the bed to move closer to her and give her a passionate kiss in which you couldn’t stop smiling. The same goes for Kate.

When you pulled out, you looked her in the eyes. “Of course I want to move in with you!” you both had such big smiles on your faces that your cheeks started to ache. “Great! I was scared for a second that you wouldn’t want that. What will you tell your moms, though? Maybe you should-” as Kate continued to rumble, your heart stopped. Shit. Your moms, they don’t know anything, AND you said you were going for a walk, which is now about six hours long. Shit, shit. Your phone has been on silent since you went to get married. They probably called you and texted you a million times.

“Shit, my moms! They have to wonder where I am!” you said cutting her off and quickly got out of bed, panicking. You throw on yourself one of Kate’s hoodies, put on your panties and some Kate’s shorts. At the corner of your eye, you see that Kate also got up and started to get dressed. You left the bedroom and headed towards the living room, where you left your phone in the bag. Just as you walked into the living room space, your heart stopped at the sight.

So, now you know the story behind why an angry witch and a pissed-off ex-assassin broke into the apartment and were standing in the living room. They had their hands on their hips, with scowls on the faces. “Mom, mama-” You were immediately caught off. “Don’t mamas us!” Wanda scoffed. She rarely got angry, she preferred to do things the calm way. However, when she did get angry, oh boy, hide if you can.

They had every right to be angry and you knew it. So you chose to stay silent this time. “Do you want to explain where you’ve been?” Nat asked with her jaw locked tight. “And why, when I called Clint to ask if he knew something about your whereabouts, he said that he doesn’t want to get involved anymore?” this time Wanda spoke. “Or why, when I called Yelena to ask if she knew something, she just laughed and hung up?” Natasha added. It was as if they talked it through, because they were literally changing after one sentence. It was creepy. “You lied to us, went radio silent and met up with the one person we specifically told you not to see!”

The person, as if on cue, came into the living room and stopped dead in tracks. “Mrs. Romanoff and..” Kate cleared her throat “Mrs. Romanoff.” She stood right next to you, her eyes locked on anything but your moms. The thick tension could be cut with a knife. You didn’t know what they would do now, with Kate next to you.

“And here’s the person in the flesh.” stated firmly Natasha, her eyes shooting daggers at Kate. “Mom, please.” you pleaded. You didn’t want this place to turn into a war zone. “Please what? Y/N, we've forbidden you from seeing her and the next thing you did after that was see her! You don-”

“What is that?” Wanda stopped Natasha from further shouting at you as she noticed something. You turned your head where she was looking, and your face turned pale. Wands was looking at the coffee table where you had thrown your bag earlier. The bag opened from the impact and some things fell out of it on the table. One of the things was your and Kate's marriage license. Your heart stuck in your throat as Wanda walked closer to it. She reached for the paper, picked it up and for a moment there was silence. But only for a short moment.

“You got married?!” Wanda shouted, turning to face you and Kate. Now she was really, really angry. Like the kind of angry when she has her eyes narrowed, eyebrows furrowed so that they are almost touching, and the worst, the little tilt in her head. Now you were fucked. “You what?!” this time Natasha shouted.

“I-... we just..” you wanted to say something, but didn't know what. What do you say in a situation like that, though? It was tough, but fortunately Kate noticed that you were struggling and decided to speak for you. She reached her hand to yours and interlaced your fingers together. Kate cleared her throat, mentally preparing herself for anything that could happen after she spoke. “We did. We got married today.” you didn't think that was possible, but silence was never this loud.

“Why would you do that? And without any of us knowing” Wanda spoke angrily as she handed the married license to Nat.

Natasha read the license, still not believing what she just heard. Her eyes stopped at one point. “Bishop? You changed your last name to Bishop?” Natasha asked in disbelief, interrupting Wanda. “Yeah…” you said, unsure, waiting for the explosion from your parents.

However, there is something else on their faces. Hurt? Disappointment? Sadness? You couldn't tell, but you knew you didn't like it. “Mom, mama, please don't look at me like that.” you said sadly, there is a stone in your heart. “I've never wanted to get married without you there, but I also didn’t want to marry anyone but Kate. And you specifically told me that I can't be with her… I just.. I couldn't let that happen. I just want you to be happy for me.” you reasoned, tears once again pricking in your eyes. You felt Kate's hand smoothing your back, which calmed you a little.

“Mrs. Romanoffs, I really love your daughter. You care about her safety as much as I do. I promise to keep her safe and sound.” Kate calmly said, meaning every word.

Wanda and Nat looked at each other, having a silent conversation. Soon, they turned back to face you and Kate. “Oh God..” Nat groaned, letting out a breath. “Y/N, darling, we didn't want you to feel like that; we just…” she didn't really know how to say it, so Wanda took the wheel. “We just love you so much, we want to keep you safe. However, I admit that we did go a little too far. We shouldn't get between you and Kate.” she says. Your eyes lit up a little, a small smile started to spread on your face. “Does that mean..?” you asked, still not sure you understood what they just said. “Yes, you can see Kate.”

Now you have the biggest smile on your face. You jumped up and down and then pulled your mothers in a hug, squeezing in happiness. Your moms laughed a little and hugged you back. “We love you, darling, and we are happy for you.”

“Thank you. I love you both, very much.” you grinned and pulled away from the hug. You go back to stand next to Kate, whose smile is as big as yours, and interlace your fingers.

“However,” Natasha turned to Kate with a stoic expression. “If you hurt her, I will hunt you down.” Kate started to feel a little nervous again, but tried not to show it. “Of course, I-I would never hurt her; I love her.” she rumbled quickly.

Soon, Wanda and Nat left the apartment, saying that today they will leave you and Kate alone, but tomorrow they want you both at home for dinner.

You went back to bed, lying next to each other. Both of you fell asleep in a loving embrace.

[czenzo]

Secrets

[ao3] [Maekyart's art] [dreamoo's art]

summary:

Lucy is hiding something. Potty is certain it’s a sinister secret, while Placid isn’t so sure. Either way, Alfendi is determined to get to the bottom of it… but with repressed feelings and fears clouding his vision, will he be able to solve Lucy’s complex puzzle in time?

words: 9,856 rating: T

notes: this was written for @proflaytonbigbang 2024! I had so much fun participating and it was an honour to be teamed up with such incredible artists, @dreamooarts and @maekyart—their art for this fic is amazing, please go check them out and give them so much love! :)

Lucy was hiding something from him.

It became apparent to Alfendi first thing that morning. He favoured arriving at the office early and settling in while everything was still quiet and calm; it gave him ample time to prepare for the day before his colleagues burst in with a barrage of questions, unsolved cases, and a mishmash of other responsibilities that somehow fell under Alfendi’s authority.

The Mystery Room was tucked into a far corner of Scotland Yard, rendering the route to the dingy office long and convoluted, but Alfendi knew it like the back of his hand. Humming a tune under his breath, he relished the calm atmosphere as he made his way through the winding corridors. 

Taking a quick detour into the staff kitchen along the way, he popped the kettle on and retrieved two mugs. A teabag in each; a teaspoon of honey in his, two sugars in Lucy’s. He poured the boiling water into his mug and left the other for Lucy to fill and pick up when she was due to arrive in—Alfendi checked his tattered wristwatch—forty minutes.

He fished for his keys in his coat pocket as he turned the corner and approached the door to the Mystery Room, but stopped short of sliding the key into the lock upon hearing voices on the other side.

“No, he can’t find out. Gotta keep it all nice n’ hush-hush.” It was Lucy’s voice, clear as day—Alfendi would recognise it anywhere. She kept it a low murmur, which was just as unusual as her being in the office right then… if Alfendi knew anything about Lucy Baker, it was that she was loud, proud, and almost always running at least ten minutes late.

He checked his watch again and gently smacked it. Had he forgotten about daylight savings? Was he, in fact, the late one? No, no, that couldn’t be it; he hadn’t encountered anyone else on his way here.

“Good luck pulling that off.” The second person was even quieter and hard to make out, but the whopping sneeze they followed up their reply with tipped him off: Florence. “Al’s impossible to sneak anything by.”

Alfendi startled, grip tightening on his mug to prevent it from shattering at his feet.

‘They’re hiding something from us? What in the hell are those two going on about?’

He shook his head; it was both an answer and an attempt to deter his rousing alternate self. The other Al—or as Lucy liked to call him, Potty Prof—had begun to stir, and he brought along with him the beginnings of a headache. Alfendi scrunched his brow and pressed his ear closer to the door.

“Oh aye, but I bet we can give it a good go. I know it’s normally dead hard to hide stuff from Prof, but he’d never suspect summat like this.”

“I suppose if anyone can do it…” Florence paused to blow her nose; Alfendi waited for her to continue with bated breath. “It’s you. Al’s always been quite fond of you. He’d let you get away with murder.”

‘Fond? Hah! What a load of codswallop.’

No, he had to admit he’d become rather close with his assistant since her appointment. They were approaching one year since Lucy joined him in the Mystery Room, and now Alfendi couldn’t imagine working without her. Fond, however, was a word he would have struggled to come up with by himself.

Lucy let out a laugh. It was a sudden jump in volume from her secretive whispers and sounded much more like the Lucy he knew. “Ee, bit extreme, Flo.”

“I’m right and you know it. Anyway, he’ll be here soon. You’re never here to see it, but Al runs like clockwork in the morning. Always gets here at the same time. I’ll make myself scarce, and you ought to have a good reason for being here so early or he’ll be on your case in seconds.”

“Right you are, Florence. See you in a bit.”

Florence’s wheels creaked as she approached the door. 

Alfendi’s head whipped around in a calculating panic. With his long legs, there was a 74.3% chance he could make it around the nearest corner and be out of sight when she emerged into the hallway. If he stayed put, there was only a 47.8% chance he could provide a convincing reason as to why he was lingering by the door. Florence’s gaze had a way of unnerving him at the worst of times, making her remarkably hard to lie to.

‘Christ, you’re making this difficult. Move over.’

Lucy once asked him what it felt like to switch between Placid and Potty. It was hard to articulate, but after a long moment of thought and a few sips of tea (good for the mind, according to his father), he described their control over the body as driving a car. While one was driving, the other sat in the passenger seat, watching passively. Upon heightened emotion or stimulus, the passenger would switch their seats and take control of the car. A more recent development was the discovery they could take the wheel through sheer will and force, which led to Alfendi taking a rare week off work on account of the constant switches and never-ending migraines. In the end, Lucy was the one who helped pull them out of their cerebral war.

It felt like a dagger through his brain as Potty hauled Placid out of the driver’s seat and stomped on the accelerator. In a matter of seconds, he threw himself down the hallway and around the corner, then pressed flat against the wall as he tried to steady his shallow breath and racing heart.

Al listened to Florence roll out of the Mystery Room, close the door behind her, and head off in the opposite direction. 

He heaved a sigh and gave himself a well-deserved gulp of tea. Those sneaky pests had been talking about him. About hiding something from him.

‘It’s alarming, but I’m sure it’s nothing a bit of communication won’t fix.’

Al stared at the ceiling, listened to his calmer counterpart’s reasoning, and immediately brushed it off as the words of a hypocrite. Neither of them were capable of clear communication, it’s what got them into most of their messes.

‘You’d think we would learn a lesson from that.’

Not today. Al steeled himself, took another swig from his mug, and strode back over to the door.

‘No, no. Let me handle this.’

He rolled his eyes but grudgingly complied, handing over the reins to their shared body.

Alfendi gently opened the door.

Lucy was nowhere to be seen. He reminded himself to act naturally despite her unexpected absence—after all, he wasn’t supposed to know she was there. Still, he moved with caution as he went through the motions of settling in for the day.

He leisurely sipped at his tea as he booted up the crime scene reconstruction device and wondered just how long Lucy planned on staying hidden. Was she going to try and sneak out and waltz in through the door at her actual start time? Or—

Lucy sprang up from beneath her desk and Alfendi choked so hard on his tea he feared for his life. Placid was once again flung to the passenger seat.

“Morning, Prof!”

“Lucy!” Al spluttered. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Eh-up, Potty! Good morning to you, too.” She smiled from ear to ear and adjusted her wonky cap. “I got you right good there, didn’t I?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he hissed as he made a futile effort at wiping the tea from his clothes (maybe now, he thought, he’d have a good excuse to change out of Placid’s awful attire). “Wasting company time surprising your superiors is not a good look, DC Baker.”

“Ooh, don’t DC Baker me. Besides, it’s not my working hours yet, int’ it?” Lucy gently took the mug from his hands with a grimace. “I didn’t expect you to be drinking summat, though. I’m dead sorry, Prof.”

“You’d better be.” He yanked it from her hands, drained its measly dregs, and dropped it back on his desk. “Why are you early? What are you up to?”

“Gonna interrogate me like some crook?”

He stood up, leaning forward to emphasise the extra height he had on her. “Maybe I will, Baker.”

‘Stop antagonising her.’

Al knew Lucy could take it. She looked up at him with a defiant grin. “Do your worst.”

A twinge of pain in the back of his head signalled a switch, and Alfendi gently shook away the pain. “Enough of this. Good morning, Lucy. Could you help me wipe all this tea from my desk?”

“‘Course, Prof. I really am sorry about that.”

“Water under the bridge, Luce. Though I am curious as to why you’re here early in the first place.”

 “My desk’s been all wobbly these past few days, but I’ve had no time to get round to fixing it, you see? Thought I’d pop in a bit earlier to sort it out before getting stuck in our work.”

“Then I arrived, and you thought it a fantastic opportunity to practise the art of surprise?”

“Exactly!” Then came another one of Lucy’s big toothy grins, and Alfendi almost completely forgot about her strange, secretive behaviour.

‘I’ve taught her well. She delivered that lie with a terrifying amount of confidence.’

Of course, he couldn’t let the blatant lie slide. Despite Lucy’s charm and swift conversational skills, Alfendi was still determined to get to the bottom of her hushed exchange with Florence. He simply needed subtlety and patience—both of which Potty lacked, so it was vital to keep him chained to the passenger seat for as long as possible.

—

“Christ, Prof, this one’s hard to crack.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Alfendi reluctantly peeled himself away from the crime scene reconstruction and out of the horribly hunched position he’d been stuck in for far too long. He held back a groan as he stretched his aching back, which let out a series of satisfying pops.

‘You’re making us look like an old man. Fix your damn posture.’

Much easier said than done. When engrossed in the intricacies of methods, motives, and murder, sitting straight was hardly high up on Alfendi’s list of priorities.

Staying put in his wheeled office chair, he pushed himself back over to his desk. Just a few feet away, Lucy perched on the edge of her desk with several papers in hand, teeth worrying the chapped skin of her lips as she concentrated. While Alfendi inspected the nooks and crannies of the crime scene, she had been tasked with analysing the many disturbing letters supposedly written by one of their culprits. Alfendi knew where he currently stood with them—there were too many inconsistencies for them to be genuine, though he was yet to determine who the true writer was—but he valued Lucy’s insight, so kept quiet about his suspicions to see if she arrived at the same conclusion, or was able to point out something he’d missed.

“We’ll find a weak spot in this case somewhere, I’m sure of it. We’re a rather formidable team, if I may say so myself.”

Lucy grinned. “Right you are, Prof. Though if I go on any longer without another cuppa, I might not survive the day.” She hopped off her desk. “Want one?”

“That would be lovely, Luce. Thanks.”

The door shut behind her, rendering the room oddly quiet. He’d worked here for years before Lucy’s arrival, not just in the Mystery Room, but out on the field, across various departments, with the burning determination to make something of himself—just like his father—helping him gain experience and succeed in (almost) everything he attempted. Lucy had only been by his side for a fraction of his career, but she’d crash-landed into it and made such an impact on his entire life that her absences were now painfully noticeable. 

Alfendi filled the sudden Lucy-shaped hole with paperwork, as it was rare for the office to be quiet enough for him to concentrate on it. 

The minutes ticked by, and Potty became increasingly agitated. ‘Get back to the crime scene.’

Alfendi pointedly ignored the demand.

‘This is my body, and I refuse to let its time on this Earth be wasted looking at reports and stupid official documents. Get back to the murder—I want to take a closer look at the body’s surroundings.’

“You sound like a child on the verge of a tantrum,” Alfendi murmured, absently tapping the tip of his pen against his lower lip.

‘And you sound like a condescending knob.’

Charming.

‘At least get up to see where Baker’s gone off to. It doesn’t take fifteen minutes to make tea unless you’re brewing up for a whole bloody army. She’s up to something.’

Alfendi double-checked his watch. He made a good point. She had been gone for a while, but fifteen minutes wasn’t the end of the world.

‘It is when she’s hiding something from us, you moron. Go and find her, or I will.’

He grudgingly gave in to curiosity and obliged. 

As he headed for the door, his eye caught on the papers Lucy left on her desk. They were photocopies of the letters—the real ones were stored away somewhere, safe from the threats of spilt tea and other miscellaneous stains—with red pen scribblings in the margins. 

Where words written by Alfendi were small, spiky, and appeared to be running away from something, Lucy’s were large, rounded, and demanded attention. Admittedly, her notes were always much easier to read. He skimmed her annotations and was pleased with what he found; she’d already taken notice of the inconsistencies, and though she was yet to work out what it all meant, Alfendi was confident she wasn’t far from it. A small smile graced his face as he continued towards the door.

As Alfendi approached the kitchen and heard two distinct voices having a hushed conversation—or at least, a poor attempt at keeping it hushed—he was struck by a wave of deja vu. He pressed himself to the wall beside the doorway and caught the tail end of Lucy delivering the same rundown she’d given to Florence that morning. “…and you’ve gotta keep your lips sealed tight, yeah? Don’t want him to catch wind of what we’re doing.”

“Mum’s the word! You can count on me, Lucy.” A stomp and a whoosh of air followed—it didn’t take much to work out it was Sniffer, giving a mock salute. “The Inspector will be none the wiser.”

‘What the fuck.’

Indeed. Alfendi narrowed his eyes.

“Aye, that’s what I like to hear. While you’re here, d’you want a cuppa?”

“No thanks, caffeine sends me a tad haywire. Detective Lawson never let me— ah. Oh.” He took a deep, shaky breath, and sniffed away tears.

Potty mentally rolled his eyes so hard it almost physically hurt. ‘Not this again.’

A spoon clattered in a mug. “Ee, Sniffer, you know he’s not worth all this.”

“I know, I know, but he was my old gaffer for years. Crook or not, it’s no easy feat adjusting to working without him. You’d be the same if it happened to Inspector Layton.”

“I suppose, but… I’ve already proven Prof’s no criminal. If he left this place, it’d be on his own terms.”

“And you’d crash and burn without him.”

“Absolutely not,” Lucy scoffed. “I’d do just fine without him. This gal could thrive anywhere, with anyone, thank you very much!”

It was undeniably true, but that made it no less hard to hear. Alfendi resisted the urge to put a stop to the conversation.

“Ouch! Salt straight in the wound! We don’t all have that ability, Lucy.”

Sniffer was moving back towards the subject of Lawson. Since the incident, Alfendi had learned the best tactic for dealing with Sniffer and his strong feelings towards his ex-boss was to keep him distracted. If he were in Lucy’s shoes, he would gently swerve the conversation in a different direction, wrap it up quickly, and retreat back into the office ASAP.

“Maybe not, but you do have the ability to help me with that project I mentioned.”

The execution was flawless, but the new—or rather, rehashed—choice of topic was questionable.

“Aye aye, cap’n! Just send the deets on over and it’ll be smooth sailing from here. Hopefully. Potentially.” A long, uncertain pause followed, interrupted only by the sound of Lucy stirring mugs of tea. “His shenanigan radar is hyper-sensitive. It’ll be hard to sneak all this under his nose— oh, that was a dodgy turn of phrase. I wasn’t taking the mickey, honest!”

Alfendi slowly raised a hand to the centre of his face as he heard Lucy stifle a laugh. He felt Potty reach for a snarky insult to direct at Sniffer before faltering as the pang of self-consciousness hit him too.

He found one eventually. ‘Dickhead.’

“Don’t fret, I know you meant nowt by it.”

“Oh, it’s all quite thrilling, isn’t it? Our own little espionage mission! Keeping secrets from an Inspector!”

“Eh-up, Sniffer, keep your voice down,” Lucy hissed.

“I’m sorry, Lucy, but I’m all riled up now! This’ll be one of the highlights of our career!”

‘I’m not listening to this any longer.’

Placid was shoved aside. Al waltzed into the kitchen.

Sniffer had his back to Al as he gesticulated wildly; he was none the wiser to the sudden extra company. Lucy’s eyes widened as she caught sight of Al over his shoulder.

He loomed over Detective Sergeant Hague. “Highlight of your career, you say?”

Sniffer yelped and practically shot ten feet into the air. “Inspector Layton! I didn’t hear you come in, you’re sneakier than a—”

“What were you talking about?”

‘Go easy on him, please. Whatever they’re hiding, I’m sure it’s nothing serious.’

Placid could shove his optimism. Al was—in Sniffer-speak—going to squeeze the lad until he squeaked like a mouse on helium and spewed his guts all over the floor.

‘Christ.’

“Tea’s almost ready, Prof! I’ll be back with you in a sec. Just got caught up telling Sniffer all about our tough case.”

“Oh, really?” Al cocked his head. “What does he think about the letters?”

Sniffer’s gaze darted nervously between the two of them. “The… letters?”

“Yes, the letters. A crucial piece of evidence our dear Lucy’s been poring over the past few hours. Surely she must have mentioned them? It would be difficult to thoroughly discuss the case without doing so.”

“Er, yes! Of course, the letters, the letters… They were very… suspicious?”

“Much like the man stood in front of me. What were you really talking about, Detective Sergeant?”

Sniffer blanched, and for a moment it looked like he was going to take the gut-spewing metaphor and make it disgustingly literal.

“Lucy’s the ringleader! She’s in charge, I’m merely a lackey! Have mercy, Inspector!”

Lucy guffawed. “By ‘eck, Sniffer, you made that well too easy.” Before Alfendi could rain hellfire upon the suspect, Lucy shoved a mug into his hands and steered him out of the kitchen.

The press of her hand on his back and the warmth of the mug seeping into his palms calmed him, and soon Placid had the reins again. They walked side-by-side back to the office.

“I’m terribly sorry, Lucy. I didn’t mean to pry. You were gone for quite some time, so I…”

“Thought you’d have a grand ol’ time earwigging instead of working?”

“I didn’t come looking for you with the sole intent of eavesdropping, but if you heard your name in a hushed conversation, you’d be tempted to listen in, too.”

Lucy paused. “Er— yeah, alright. I’ll let you have that one.”

Alfendi gently scoffed and sipped his tea—she’d brewed it perfectly. “Am I allowed to be privy to whatever you’re masterminding?”

“I haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about, Prof. Me, a mastermind? Give over!”

“Sniffer distinctly referred to you as a ringleader—”

Lucy opened the office door with a flourish and bounded over to her desk. “Oh, Prof, I realised something while I were in the kitchen!” She waved the photocopied letters in the air and stabbed a finger at her scribblings. “These bits, they’re inconsistent with what we know about the victim’s death, and the handwriting doesn’t match our other samples at all. It’s a fake! A forgery! If we find out who really wrote it, I reckon this case’ll come flooding open!”

Shit. He couldn’t resist the pull of being so close to cracking a case.

‘Don’t let her gaslight us. We know now she’s definitely hiding something. It could be sinister.’

Alfendi would figure it out; he just had to play his cards wisely. 

—

While most people would rather gouge out their own eyes than continue toiling away in the office after hours, Alfendi didn’t really mind it. Late evenings in the Mystery Room weren’t dissimilar to the early mornings—quiet, peaceful, and subsequently a prime time to be productive.

Their previous case, as Lucy predicted, was relatively simple to crack once they’d figured out the person behind the forged letters. The next one to be dropped on their desks, however, was proving to be much more frustrating. They had scoured over every detail in the paperwork, every nook and cranny of the crime scene, and between them had consumed at least fourteen cups of tea, but come five p.m. their leads were close to non-existent. 

It was a Friday, which meant that any work left unfinished would plague the back of Alfendi’s mind through the whole weekend, and as such he was determined to finish the working week on, at the very least, a slightly satisfying note.

Just one lead was all they needed, then they’d be set to kick off the next week refreshed, well-rested, and with a clear thread to follow.

Finding one, however, was much, much easier said than done.

“How d’you feel about pizza, Prof?”

Alfendi looked up at her over the soft glow of the reconstructed crime scene. “In general?”

Lucy gently scoffed. “No, I mean for tonight. Can’t keep slaving away without a bit of grub for energy, eh?”

“That’s not a bad idea, actually. Would you mind placing the order? My card is…” He faltered. “Er, I’m actually not sure.”

“I’ll hunt it down, don’t you worry! How’re things with the crime scene?”

“So far, uneventful. Every time I think I’ve found something of interest, it either leads to nothing or something entirely unhelpful. It’s frustrating; no killer is perfect. They must have left something.”

‘It’d be easier to solve if you’d stop gawking at this screen and view the actual crime scene. Your aversion to fieldwork is downright embarrassing.’

Alfendi wasn’t fond of acknowledging Potty as his ‘true’ self; but it was common knowledge among the veteran staff of Scotland Yard that prior to the incident, Al was a real go-getter. He had been allergic to being cooped up in an office, with an insatiable hunger to get out there and see crime scenes and victims in person. Now, with Placid in control most often… he was the complete opposite. Alfendi wasn’t sure where it came from, but he knew he now enjoyed the comfort of the Mystery Room far too much to frequently leave it.

‘It’s pathetic, really.’

Alfendi rolled his eyes; it wasn’t unusual for Potty to get rather snappy after a long bout of staying inside.

As he zoomed in on the suspiciously warped floorboard beside the body, he was hit by a sweet scent and a sudden weight at his side. Startled, he spun in his chair, only to find Lucy pressed close to him as she dug around in his lab coat pocket.

“Card’s not in your bag, or your proper coat, so…” She rummaged around some more, before moving onto the other side. “By ‘eck, Prof, you keep a right load of tat in here. It must weigh you down a ton!”

Alfendi purposefully kept his line of sight locked off to the side; Lucy was deep into his personal space, and the angle at which she leant forward screamed unprofessionalism. “Lucy,” he said slowly, “you could’ve asked me to check my pockets myself.”

“Yeah, but you were busy,” she countered. “Besides, I’ve always been curious to know what you actually keep in them— eh-up, is that a mini stapler?”

He thought her incredulity was misplaced. “It’s handy to have when dealing with paperwork.”

The office door swung open and crashed against the adjoining wall. Dustin Scowers backed into the office, rear end protruding into the room accompanied by a jaunty whistle. Along with the rest of Dustin came a cleaning cart decked with the standard supplies that allowed Scotland Yard to keep a pretence of being organised and in order. 

Alfendi caught his eye. Dustin cursed and practically shot into the air.

“Jesus, I thought everyone’d gone home! Sorry to barge in on yous—” Dustin paused. His gaze darted to where Lucy was practically bent over Alfendi’s lap, digging deep into his pockets. Alfendi became painfully aware of how awful the scene looked from Dustin’s line of sight and felt heat flood his face. 

Dustin grimaced. “Er… is it a bad time?”

Lucy shot up straight, the prized debit card held aloft with pride. “Found it! Oh, hiya, Dustin.”

Dustin’s eyes narrowed. He spoke with a hint of uncertainty. “Hiya, Lucy. Al.”

“Dustin.” Alfendi plastered on a polite smile. “Will we be in your way if we stay?”

“Nah, you’re alright. Don’t mind me.”

Lucy retreated back to her desk to order food and resume work; Alfendi missed her warmth at his side more than he cared to admit.

It was considerably harder to concentrate with the cleaner’s incessant whistling coming from the other side of the room. The promise of impending pizza, however, was helping keep Alfendi’s mood (and Potty in general) in check.

Clearly, he appeared far more engrossed in his work than he actually was; Dustin began to talk to Lucy as if Alfendi couldn’t hear him at all.

“Everything still going to plan with the— the thing?” he said conspiratorially as he wrestled an overflowing bin bag out of its container. Alfendi kept his head down and pretended to be unaware of the conversation unfolding a few feet away.

“Er…” Lucy swivelled in her chair to check that Alfendi wasn’t looking, then turned back to Dustin with a whisper. “Yeah. Keep your voice down, though.”

“Gotcha. You’re dead good at all this, Lucy. Proper little mastermind, you are.”

“Ee, don’t, it’ll go straight to my head. D’you need a hand with that?”

Dustin grunted and strained, and eventually, the bin bag came free. He tied it with practised ease. “Pro bin-emptier, me. Don’t need no help. But if you need any more help with… you know what, I’m your guy, yeah?”

“Aye. Glad I can count on you, Dusty.”

Dustin beamed. “‘Course.”

‘What the fuck.’

Indeed. Alfendi continued staring at the crime scene but was taking in none of the details; his brain had gone blank, aside from repeating the conversation he’d just overheard.

‘Do they think we’re dense? Do they genuinely think we couldn’t hear that?’

With anyone else, the notion would’ve been absurd, but with Alfendi… he’d gained his workaholic reputation long ago. If anyone were able to be so engrossed in their work to become completely deaf and blind to the obvious goings-on around them, it would be him.

Alfendi stole a glance up at Dustin, only to find that he was looking right back at him. The cleaner startled, grip tightening on his duster, and attempted a casual lean against the wall that was, by a long shot, not casual whatsoever.

Right by Dustin was the Mystery Room’s calendar, full of notes scribbled in three distinct colours: green for Lucy, blue for Placid, and red for Potty. It was the epitome of organised chaos.

Dustin nodded towards it. “Big day coming up, eh, Al?”

Lucy visibly tensed and shot him a deadly look. All that time spent working with her meant Alfendi knew she was holding back the urge to, in her words, “completely wallop the lad”, though he couldn’t ascertain what exactly had elicited that reaction from her.

Alfendi frowned. “Big day?”

Dustin gave him an incredulous look and pointed to a square in next week’s row, filled with a crudely drawn gift, balloons, and cake. It was entirely green, with not a fleck of blue or red to be found. Scribbled at the top was ‘PROF BDAY!!!!!!’.

‘Since when was that so close?’

Alfendi truly wasn’t sure.

“How’s it feel to be almost thirty?” Dustin grinned.

“Er…” He faltered, then glanced over to Lucy, who was still glaring daggers at Dustin. She must have felt his gaze on her, however, and quickly turned to grace him with a smile.

“Thirty int’ that old, Prof, don’t worry.”

‘Liar.’

“You got any plans?” Dustin asked, before giving Lucy a ridiculously conspicuous wink. With the pressure of their current case already weighing him down, Alfendi couldn’t work out what was going on between these two for the life of him. Maybe, he thought nonsensically, Dustin had inhaled one too many dust particles.

“I’m afraid I don’t,” he admitted. “I’ve never been one for celebrations. Birthdays are just like any other day.”

“Oh.” Lucy’s shoulders slumped. “That’s dead sad.”

“Right?” Dustin said. “Someone oughtta do something about that.”

Something snapped within Lucy. In a split second, she crumpled the nearest piece of paper into a ball (please don’t let that be an important document, Alfendi silently pleaded) and lobbed it at Dustin’s head.

“The office looks spick n’ span now, don’t you think? You should get a move on to the rest of the building,” Lucy said to him, a not-so-innocent smile plastered on her face.

‘Oh, that was a fantastic shot. Do you see that deadly look on her face? She’s incredible.’

Lucy Baker was incredible, Alfendi had to agree, but she was also downright puzzling. What on Earth was she getting up to?

—

“A field case! Prof! We get to go outside!”

Alfendi grimaced at Lucy’s high-pitched squealing. “You were outside just ten minutes ago before you entered the building.”

“That int’ the same thing and you know it,” Lucy insisted, shoving the case-info papers into his hands. They had been hand-delivered that morning and detailed a case that was far too complex to recreate from the comfort of their office, requiring them to go and visit the crime scene in person.

“Oh, this is well exciting! It’s in a dead lovely part of the city, too—oh, we could grab lunch while we’re out! Or a coffee and fancy little pastries… Maybe we could even shop and jazz your wardrobe up a bit!”

‘Couldn’t agree more with that last part,’ Potty mentally chimed in. ‘If you wear this god-awful striped jumper one more time, I’m offing us both.’

“Lucy,” Alfendi said slowly. “A whole family was brutally murdered in their sleep.”

“Ee, yeah, my heart goes out to them. Proper sad stuff, that is. Which is why we should make sure to do some fun things while we’re out, so we don’t make ourselves dead depressed!” Lucy grinned, clearly pleased with her line of reasoning.

A half-hearted protest began to leave Alfendi’s mouth before he realised she made a good point. He skimmed the case information again, and caught a glimpse of a photo of one of the victim’s stuffed animals, covered in…

“On second thought, a pastry sounds quite nice.”

Lucy’s celebratory cheer could be heard throughout all of Scotland Yard.

After far too long a journey on the humid, overcrowded tube, followed by hours of poring over the nauseatingly disturbing crime scene, Alfendi’s brain was well and truly fried. The tragedy visibly took its toll on Lucy, too—as they left the building and stepped back out into the bustling London streets, she was uncharacteristically quiet.

“You did well in there.” He spoke softly. “You noticed some crucial details I’d completely overlooked. I’m glad to have you by my side.”

Lucy looked up at him, wide-eyed. Her mouth wobbled for a split second before it stretched into a smile. “You flatter me, Prof.”

“I mean it, Lucy. Now, shall we find a cafe?”

Seeing her face light up was the highlight of his day—no, week.

They struck gold with the first cafe they came across. Though London’s dreary weather stopped them from picking an outside table, the inside was a sight to behold. Soft instrumentals danced through the air while people stirred steaming mugs and chatted to one another surrounded by plants adorning the walls and windowsills. Normally, so many people, noises, and generally being in public would be something Alfendi avoided at all costs, but with Lucy by his side, he found he didn’t mind it one bit. She deeply inhaled the scent of baked goods and brewing tea before grabbing his hand and pulling him over to the counter.

The cashier smiled at their arrival. “My, you two certainly make a cute couple! What can I get for you both?”

‘What?!’

Alfendi blanched, subconsciously tightening his grip on her hand and praying his weren’t too clammy. Any attempts at protesting or explaining their situation were futile, because his mouth refused to work.

Lucy simply laughed. “I’ll have a breakfast tea and, ooh… there’s so much to choose from! I think I’ll go with some of that lemon drizzle, please. What about you, Prof?”

‘Why didn’t she correct the cashier? Why are we still holding her hand?’

There were too many things to think about at once, so Alfendi tried focusing on the most prominent one: placing his order. “Er, an Earl Grey and… an almond slice, please.”

‘Boring.’

While Alfendi retreated in on himself, Lucy struck up a full conversation with the cashier, who seemed more than happy to reciprocate her cheer. It suited Alfendi, who had never been one for socialising.

‘Speak for yourself.’

Soon enough, they were seated. Lucy had picked out a table tucked away in the corner, furthest away from most people. Whether she purposefully did it to suit Alfendi’s preferences, he wasn’t sure, but he appreciated it either way.

“Oh, that lemon drizzle looked so nice. I can’t wait to demolish it.”

She was back to her usual spirits, which was a comforting sight. However, Alfendi was soon distracted by the thing that had been plaguing his mind since they stepped up to the counter. “Lucy,” he said slowly. “Why didn’t you correct the—”

“Breakfast tea and an Earl Grey?” A waitress materialised beside them, carefully placing their mugs and saucers on the table. “The rest of your order will be with you shortly.”

Lucy took a sip of her scalding drink straight after thanking her. The regret was immediately visible on her face; she fanned her mouth as her eyes widened.

‘It’s incredible how someone so good at her job can have no common sense outside of it.’

Once her panic died down and she forcefully gulped down the boiling hot tea in her mouth, Alfendi tried again. “So, Lucy. About what the cashier said—”

A jaunty jingle emitted from Lucy’s pocket. She started and, upon checking the caller ID, looked puzzled.  “It’s the Commissioner...?”

Alfendi frowned. If he was calling about their current case, it would make sense for him to call Alfendi first, as he was Lucy’s superior. So why was he—?

‘Unless he’s not calling about the case, you idiot. Have you already forgotten all about Baker’s secret little escapades? What if Barton’s in on it, too?’

Now that was highly unlikely. He could easily imagine Florence, Sniffer, and Dustin following Lucy like sheep, but the Commissioner? Alfendi held back a scoff. No way in hell would he—

“Hello? Ah, yes! Er—it’s not the best time… is it urgent? Oh. Oh! Okay, one sec.” Lucy lowered the phone and muffled the speaker with her hand. “Prof, I need to take this. Be back in a jiffy, alright?”

‘She wouldn’t need to be secretive if this was a case-related call.’

Alfendi internally thanked Potty for stating the painfully obvious.

He watched her through the cafe’s front window as she took the call. Nothing else seemed amiss, until he saw her mouth distinctly move in the shape of his name.

‘They’re talking about us. Why the hell are they talking about us?’

His unique name meant when her mouth moved the same way again, there was no denying it. She was talking about him to Commissioner Barton.

Alfendi narrowed his eyes and ignored the strange look given to him by the waiter who stopped by to put their cakes on the table. Lucy became more animated as the conversation went on, saying Alfendi’s name a few more times, until—

No.

It couldn’t be.

Lucy grinned, then said it once more. Again, there truly was no denying it.

Hershel.

Not only were they talking about him, they were also talking about his father.

By the time Lucy had returned, Alfendi’s tea was untouched and lukewarm. Lucy was still jovial as ever, chatting on as if nothing was wrong.

Along with his almond slice, the odd exchange with the cashier was forgotten in favour of once again dwelling on what on earth Lucy Baker could be hiding from him.

‘We need to get to the bloody bottom of this, or I swear—’

Alfendi cleared his throat to cut off Potty’s passionate ranting before plastering a smile on his face for Lucy—she couldn’t discover his suspicions, or it would hinder everything.

—

Lucy failed to stifle a yawn while tugging on her coat. As she wormed an arm into a sleeve she almost knocked over her empty, forgotten mug on her desk—after this particularly long day, neither she nor Alfendi could be particularly bothered to go and do the washing up, so that duty was delegated to their tomorrow-morning selves.

“Took us a while, but we’re starting to get somewhere with this case, eh, Prof?”

Alfendi stood and stretched his aching back. “Indeed. I’m sure everything will be smooth sailing from here on.”

Lucy unhooked Alfendi’s coat from the wall and threw it at him; he only just managed to catch it in time. He slowly put it on and made a show of powering down the crime scene reconstruction device before switching off the office lights and following Lucy out the door.

The cool evening breeze greeted them as they left Scotland Yard together.

“Have a nice evening, Prof.” Backlit by a nearby street lamp, Lucy turned to him with a smile. Alfendi found he couldn’t look away. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“You too, Lucy. You did well today.”

Her smile grew into a bold grin before she set off down the street, waving goodbye. Alfendi waved back as he headed in the opposite direction. 

As soon as he saw Lucy turn a corner, Alfendi spun on his heels and hightailed it back to Scotland Yard. His day was far from over; he still had a case to crack.

He sped through the winding corridors, frantically unlocked the door to the Mystery Room, then rushed inside, throwing it shut behind him as he wrestled off his coat. He got going immediately, shoving off all official work-related papers from his desk, stripping their shared pinboard bare, and hauling out an obscene amount of flashcards and red string from the depths of a drawer. Lucy had once bought it for him as a joke—“All the best detectives use this in the films, Prof, I swear!”—assuming it would never seriously get used, but Alfendi was not about to let it go to waste.

‘Red string. Red fucking string. This is so painfully cliché. Are you aware I despise you?’

Alfendi ignored Potty’s whinging and began to set everything up.

Florence. Sniffer. Dustin. Barton. Even Hilda. Alfendi had caught her in cahoots with Lucy earlier that day, which had well and truly tipped him over the edge. Each associated party received their own card containing everything Alfendi knew about their involvement, with red string connecting those he’d seen conspiring together. At the centre of it all: Lucy Baker. 

His colleagues were up to no good. They could exclude him all they wanted, but Alfendi was going to get to the damn bottom of it.

‘I can’t remember the last time you were this riled up, actually. It’s almost exciting.’

Next to each individual were as many important quotes Alfendi was able to recall them saying recently. He scanned each and every one of them for possible common threads.

“Al’s always been quite fond of you. He’d let you get away with murder,” Florence had said, while Sniffer had declared it an “espionage mission”, a “highlight” of their careers for which Lucy was the “ringleader”—or, in Dustin’s terms, the “mastermind”. The conversation with Barton had brought up Alfendi’s father, while what he overheard with Hilda that morning involved discussions of Forbodium and Alfendi’s old self—stumbling upon that conversation had struck him with overwhelming nausea as the memories, mistakes, and regrets all flooded back. When Lucy found him later, he was lying bleary-eyed on their office couch.

Alfendi took a step back and squinted at his red-stringed concoction. Time was ticking. He’d noticed Lucy becoming more restless by the day, and he needed to solve this before whatever she was planning unfolded and caused a disaster.

‘For all we know, she could be plotting a murder.’

Hah! The thought was laughable. Lucy Baker, masterminding a murder? That was about as likely as—

Hold on.

He scanned all the information laid out in front of him once more. Her disposition screamed nothing but innocence, but surely that made her the perfect criminal. Undetectable, unsuspectable—

‘That isn’t even a word, you utter ninny—’

With her knowledge and experience stemming from her time working alongside him in the Mystery Room, she was a flawless culprit.

Almost.

Her decision to employ their colleagues was her greatest shortcoming; whilst Lucy was more than capable of sneaking something like this under Alfendi’s nose (‘Stop using that fucking turn of phrase,’ cried Potty) on her own, the rest of Scotland Yard’s staff weren’t so capable. Florence was restless, Sniffer was obnoxiously oblivious, and Dustin was the complete opposite of inconspicuous. Barton was still far too awkward and uncertain around Alfendi, terrified to accidentally push the wrong button, and Hilda still clung to resentment for what Forbodium cost her—all of them, flawed and imperfect, had let slip far too much information around Alfendi. Individually, each detail was useless, but when pieced together they painted a bigger, more sinister picture. As of now, he was still missing many pieces, but from what he already had he could still garner something…

Slowly, Alfendi added another card to the pinboard. 

‘MURDER?’

Potty was uncharacteristically quiet for a moment. ‘We need a victim, method, motive, location, time. Treat this like any other case.’

Was he truly suspecting his colleagues of plotting something so dire? Was there no better explanation for their conspiratorial whispers, sneaking around, discussing his family and dark past, distancing themselves from and avoiding him, Lucy insisting she’d be perfectly fine without him…

Alfendi huffed a small, disbelieving laugh.

He had been so terribly, utterly blind.

He pulled the MURDER? card from its pin, wrote on its other side, and stuck it back up by Lucy’s card.

LEAVING?

Potty wrestled Placid out of the driver’s seat. Al yanked the new card back off the pinboard, brows scrunched so tightly it almost hurt, before crumpling it and throwing it across the room in the general direction of the waste bin.

“Don’t be fucking stupid,” Al hissed to his calmer counterpart, who had already thrown the towel in and accepted miserable defeat. “Why would she be leaving? Why would that spark a mass conspiracy among all our colleagues behind our back?”

‘Look in the mirror. See how you just reacted at the prospect of her leaving? So volatile. There is your answer.’

Al faltered. 

‘You—we—are often unpredictable. As much as both of us hate to admit it, we’ve become rather attached to Lucy Baker. If she announced her genuine departure, neither of us would handle it in the best manner. Hence the secrecy. I’m 98.6% certain this is the true explanation for everyone’s recent strange behaviour.’

“But—” Al ran a hand through his hair, beginning to pace. “Why would she—”

‘Similar reasons. Look at us; I can’t imagine it’s particularly pleasant, working with someone who switches so rapidly from one extreme to the other. We become far too engrossed in our work, avoid socialising or venturing outside—‘

“That is entirely your fault—”

‘—but my point still stands. You are me as much as I am you. For someone like Lucy, so amicable, sociable, lively and full of unbridled passion, our presence must be a terrible damper on her spirits. If she wanted to leave the suffocating confines of the Mystery Room—of us—I would not blame her one bit. Even if it well and truly devastated me.’

Al silently stood in the middle of the office, surrounded by red string, discarded cards, and the shattered pieces of his heart.

After what felt like a lifetime, he took a breath, steeled himself, and did what his father would do: he made a cup of tea.

Going through the motions of putting the kettle on, prepping the mug, and letting the tea brew was quite meditational; he’d done it so many times in his almost-thirty years he could do it upside-down and blindfolded. 

Scotland Yard was dead. This late at night, Al was the only living soul wandering its corridors. The silence was both comforting and disconcerting—it gave him time alone with his thoughts, something which, after Lucy’s departure, he would have in excess.

“Would Barton find a replacement?” Al murmured before taking a sip. He recalled how Lucy had flailed at the cafe after gulping scalding tea and laughed into his mug.

‘A genuine smile. I was unaware you were capable of those.’

“Oh, sod off.”

‘It’s hard to discern how Barton would handle it. On one hand, though we used to be capable of working on our own, we’ve become so accustomed to Lucy’s help we may drown without some kind of assistance, but on the other…’

“He’d have a damned hard time finding someone willing to squeeze into a tiny box office with a psychopath.”

‘Not the word I’d have personally chosen, but yes, that was my gist.’

Al eyed up Lucy’s mug by the sink; he’d brought it to the kitchen to give his hands something else to do. Once his tea was drained he busied himself with scrubbing away the tea stains, wrists caked in suds. As he caught a glimpse of the writing on Lucy’s mug—WORLD’S BEST DC—the reality began to truly sink in, and Placid sombrely took the reins once more.

“Wherever she ends up will be lucky to have her. It’s the right thing to do—it would be selfish to keep her cooped up forever.”

‘And if I want to be selfish?’

“We’d be delegating her to a life of misery. We want her to be happy, yes?”

‘You talk about her in such a sappy way. At this rate, anyone would think you’re in l—’ Potty stopped short, startled into silence for a long moment before simply saying, ‘Oh.’

Alfendi gently placed Lucy’s mug on the draining board, gripped the edge of the counter, and murmured, “Oh.”

‘What kind of inspector are we? It took us far too bloody long to figure that out.’

“It did indeed,” Alfendi said softly. “I can’t decide whether to be relieved or remorseful that this revelation changes absolutely nothing.”

In the dim kitchen, Alfendi came to terms with this realisation in the state he had been for so long, and after Lucy’s departure, he would return to: completely and utterly alone.

—

Friday had finally rolled around again. For the last hour or so of the working day, Alfendi hunched over his desk, burying his head in paperwork to distract himself from the Mystery Room’s silence. Lucy had left early with a terribly flimsy excuse. Alfendi saw right through it, knowing she wanted to get away from him and the office and start her weekend early, and simply let her go. After all, the last thing he wanted to do was to hold her back or push her further away.

‘Has that watch always ticked so loudly? It’s driving me mad.’

Alfendi ignored Potty’s whinging and continued with his work.

‘Stop bouncing your leg. It’s irritating as hell.’

A sharp exhale left Alfendi’s lips as he tightened his grip on the pen.

‘She left her coat.’

That startled Alfendi enough to make him look away from his paperwork. “What?”

‘Lucy’s coat,’ Potty said, ‘it’s still on the back of her chair.’

“So it is,” Alfendi replied slowly, eyes narrowing. 

Off to the side was their shared pinboard, painstakingly put back together after his late-night crisis. The red string and cards had been shamefully hidden away, shoved to the back of one of his drawers. He shook away the thought of them, checked his watch, and found it was almost the end of the working day. Lucy would be long gone. But why on earth would she have forgotten her—

The door burst open and slammed against the adjacent wall. “Prof!” 

Alfendi didn’t need to see her to know who it was. He was on his feet in an instant. “Lucy?”

“There’s an emergency!” she cried, hands gripping her knees as her chest heaved.

Alfendi’s eyes widened as he left his desk. “What? What’s happened?”

Lucy shook her head. “I can’t— You need to come and see. Please.”

In the blink of an eye, Lucy grabbed his hand and tugged with alarming force, sending Alfendi stumbling behind her as she sped out of the office and darted down the winding corridors. Her other hand held steadfast to her cap, stopping it from flying off behind them. It all happened so fast that Alfendi barely had any time to process it, but—

‘She’s holding our hand again. She needs us for something.’

—there were a few small details he was able to make note of.

Countless times he almost flew straight into a wall as Lucy rounded a corner with more dexterity than he could muster, but eventually, she screeched to a halt outside a door. It took a moment for Alfendi to work out where in the building they were relative to the Mystery Room, but once he did he deduced this was the door to an old meeting room; Lawson had used it most, but since his departure, most employees had forgotten about its existence.

Until now, apparently.

“Lucy,” Alfendi panted. “What’s going on?”

Not saying a word, Lucy dropped his hand (noticing the devastating loss of her warmth in his palm, Alfendi desperately ignored the urge to grab it again) and reached for the handle. It creaked as she slowly pressed down, before squealing as she pushed it open, and…

“I can’t see anything, Lucy. It’s pitch black in there.”

Glancing back at him(‘Wait,’ Potty cried out, ‘is she smiling?!’), Lucy reached for the light switch, and—

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” yelled a crowd, followed by a much quieter, “for tomorrow!”

Alfendi’s head almost hit the ceiling; he startled so violently he was sure he’d pulled half the muscles in his body.

“Surprise!” Lucy turned to him with the brightest grin. “You didn’t think we’d forget it’s your thirtieth tomorrow, did you?”

With Placid scared into the passenger seat, Potty had taken the wheel. “What the hell is this?”

As he recalled tomorrow’s green-covered square on their shared calendar, Al realised every single one of his colleagues was present. Florence, Sniffer, Dustin, Barton, even Hilda, and many other familiar faces were crammed into the meeting room, which had been spruced up with banners and bunting. Alfendi’s favourite music played in the background, while a table positioned against the furthest wall contained a large array of food, all clearly homemade with care. 

And standing amongst it all was— ‘No,’ Placid said softly. ‘It can’t be.’

“Alfendi, my boy,” Hershel Layton said with a smile. “It’s so good to see you again.”

“We brought gifts!” cried Flora, who, with the help of Luke and Kat, held a teetering tower of presents.

“What—? How—?” Al blinked, slack-jawed, as a sea of faces he knew and cared for smiled back at him.

“Took quite a bit of planning, it did,” Lucy said, somewhat sheepishly. “You’re well hard to keep a secret from, Prof. But if anyone deserves a birthday celebration, it’s you! This place’d crumble without your help.”

“This is what you’ve been hiding from me?” Al said, incredulous.

“Aye! Had a few close calls”—she cast sharp glances at a certain few people—“but you didn’t suspect a thing, eh?” She gently nudged him with a wink.

‘Not quite.’

Once the initial shock and confusion subsided, the meeting room truly transformed into a social hub as food was passed around, music was sung along to, and everyone who had left a mark on Alfendi’s life over the years mingled and had fun. 

After Potty subsided and Placid returned, Alfendi did the rounds greeting and thanking everyone before retreating to a corner to observe from a safe distance. He eyed his father, who was engaged in an intense discussion with Barton, and made a mental note to properly talk with him later when there were fewer people around. 

Gently shaking his head, he internally chastised himself. He still couldn’t quite believe this was Lucy’s secret plan, and, despite the overwhelming amount of obvious clues before him, he had failed to figure it out. How had he gotten so caught up in ridiculous theories, when the truth was right in front of him? What could possibly have clouded his thinking enough to hinder him at what was practically his job?

Lucy meandered over to him with a plate of cake and icing in the corner of her mouth. As she grinned, the pieces suddenly fell into place. Lucy Baker. If anyone was capable of masterminding a secret plan right underneath his nose (‘Ha, ha.’), it was her. It was always her. Perhaps he’d even let her get away with murder. 

An easy smile spread across his lips as she approached, pressing the plate into his hands.

“Sniffer made it,” she said, gesturing to the red velvet slice. “He made everything, actually. Who knew he had as good a nose for food as he does clues? And Flo’s in charge of the music, of course, she’s the only one who shares your weird music taste. Dustin did all the deccies, too. Maybe we should quit all this crime-solving malarkey n’ set up a party business, eh?”

“If anyone can do it, you can,” Alfendi said. He took a bite of the cake and had to suppress an obscene noise upon realising how good it tasted. 

“You know it!” Lucy puffed her chest out with pride.

‘That icing looks ridiculous.’

“You have a little—” Alfendi gestured to the corner of her mouth, where the icing still sat. 

“Oh, do I?” She wiped a hand on the wrong corner, missing it completely.

“No, the other side.”

Another complete miss.

“No, er— Sorry. May I?”

Lucy nodded, and Alfendi carefully brushed away the icing with the pad of his thumb. She went visibly still.

“Oh!” She quickly snapped out of it, leaving Alfendi to wonder whether he’d completely imagined that odd moment. “I almost forgot, I have one last surprise for you, Prof.”

Alfendi’s eyebrows shot up. “Another? You’ve already outdone yourself, Lucy.”

“Oh aye, I know. But an extra little something can’t hurt, eh? Come on, follow me.”

His weak protest died in his throat as she grabbed his hand once again (she’d been doing that a lot lately, though Alfendi wasn’t going to complain), leading him back out into the corridor and away from the hubbub of the packed room. Once the door shut behind them the noise was muffled incredibly well—Lawson had always been a fan of good soundproofing—giving the illusion they were completely alone.

“You know, I did actually attempt to uncover what you were hiding,” Alfendi admitted.

Lucy nodded slowly. “That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest, Prof. What was your top theory?”

“Well—” Alfendi coughed, suddenly feeling awkward. “I may have entertained the thought of you plotting a murder.”

“What?!” Lucy cried out, before bursting into laughter. “A killer? Me? As if I’d rope all our colleagues into seeing someone off!”

“Yes, yes, I know. It was rather ridiculous, in retrospect. But I soon moved on to a more sensible theory.”

“Go on,” Lucy said, eyes wide with curiosity.

‘Don’t say a word. Don’t—!’

“Ah, well. I… I thought you might be leaving. The Mystery Room. …Me.”

Lucy’s silence made his stomach feel nauseatingly heavy.

“I presumed you wouldn’t want to tell me due to how I may react, so everyone was keeping quiet about it. A rather silly theory, wasn’t it?”

“Oh, Prof…” Lucy sighed. “You really thought that?”

Alfendi looked away.

‘Stop that. This is bloody embarrassing.’

“How would you react?” Lucy cocked her head. “Hypothetically.”

He steeled himself and caught her eye. If there was ever a time to be honest, it was now. “Truth be told, Lucy, I’d be devastated. You claimed this place would crumble without me, but it would implode without you. I’m unsure how I ever managed before you arrived.”

The fondness in her smile made his heart stutter. “You flatter me, Prof, though I’d sooner keel over than leave this place. You’re stuck with me for a good while, I swear!”

Alfendi attempted a nonchalant shrug, as though the relief of that statement didn’t make him want to sink to his knees. “Anyway, what was this extra surprise you mentioned?”

Lucy raised an eyebrow. “What, you haven’t figured it out yet?”

“I trust you. I decided to not treat this one like a puzzle. So, go on. What have you got left up your sleeve?”

‘Is she moving closer?’

“Oh, just this.” Lucy firmly gripped the collar of his white overcoat and pulled until their faces were level. She kissed him the same way she did everything: with unwavering energy and passion. After an initial moment of shock, Alfendi sunk into the kiss, cupping her face and matching her feverish pace.

When they broke apart to catch their breath and slow their spinning, woozy heads, Lucy pressed her forehead against his.

“Happy birthday, Alfendi,” she murmured. 

The smile on his face made his cheeks ache. 

Perhaps his thirties wouldn’t be so bad after all.

end note: a huge thank you to the Layton Big Bang team for organising this wonderful event, and another massive thanks to @maekyart and @dreamooarts for choosing to create such beautiful art to accompany this fic—we make a good team!! <3

[apocalypticdemon]

I am so beyond ready to quit this job. Wednesday cannot come fast enough.

[kyouka-supremacy]

—

[arolesbianism]

I've been playing the new cotl update and I generally like it but god do I fucking hate like all of the balance changes just let things be strong man

[a-little-bit-poss]

.

[weezerlvr228]

It's giving the...main character syndrome. like who tf does she think she is??? Y/N???

NO OH MY GOSH ANON. LET ME TELL YOU. LET ME FRIGGIN TELL YOU.

[pa-pa-plasma]

i don't get people who think other people's pets are theirs. like where does that type of fucked up even come from

[reddpenn]

Here is a potentially silly question: how do you feel about birthstones? Do you think they fit the months (by season or astrological sign)? Do you have other stones you'd rather see as birthstones?

Okay, so, birthstones make absolutely no sense.

I mean, look at this mess. We’re doing beryl and corundum twice! I get that they get Special Different Names for their Special Different Colors, but it's just lazy. And why are we giving some months cheap, common gemstones like garnet and amethyst while the poor June birthdays have to shell out tens of thousands of dollars for FREAKING ALEXANDRITE? That’s incredibly unfair! We should be picking birthstones that are all roughly the same price. And why do some months get multiple gemstones? I’ll tell you why: because nobody can agree on an official list and every attempt to standardize this thing has just added MORE birthstones to every month.

So obviously the answer is to standardize it again, by throwing out everything and starting over. Here are our goals:

Fair pricing. You should be paying roughly the same amount regardless of what month you were born in. We’re getting rid of those ridiculous outliers like diamond and alexandrite.

More customization potential! Nobody should be stuck with a stone they hate. We’re picking gemstones that come in multiple colors or varieties, so that everyone can choose a variant they like.

Wearability. Some birthstones are too fragile to be worn as jewelry. We need to replace them with stronger stuff.

No more duplicate gemstones. Every month gets a stone or family of stones with a unique chemical composition.

Now without further ado, I present to you:

The New And Improved List Of Birthstones With No Problems Or Flaws That Everyone Will Definitely Agree On And We Can Start Using Right Now Immediately

JANUARY: GARNET

I've got no problem with garnet. It's a fine, classic birthstone, so January can keep it. But I would like to see a little more garnet diversity. January birthdays shouldn’t be confined to just red. The garnet family of minerals contains a rainbow of different colors, like orange hessonite, green uvarovite, pink rhodolite, yellow grandite, and many more. They’re all garnet, so we should be wearing them all!

FEBRUARY: QUARTZ

The original birthstone of February was amethyst, which is… kinda boring. Super cheap and common and you only get one color? No, we can do better. February gets ALL the quartzes now. Keep wearing amethyst if you want, but also feel free to branch out into clear quartz, citrine, rose quartz, smoky quartz, rutilated quartz, tiger eye… actually, take all the agates too. If it’s quartz, it’s yours!

MARCH: SPODUMENE

March was originally aquamarine, but I’ll be giving all the beryls to May, so we need a different stone here. Let’s stick with that theme of pale pastels and go with spodumene. For an April birthday, bedeck yourself in green hiddenite, pink kunzite, or yellow triphane. Despite its subtle colors, your birthstone has some amazing fluorescence, with really cool pinks and oranges under a UV light.

APRIL: FELDSPAR

Diamond is too pricy for this list, so we’re replacing it with something less expensive and way more interesting. April will now be represented by the feldspar family. We’re talking labradorite, moonstone, amazonite, aventurine, and sunstone. While you don’t have much variety in color, your stones are full of shimmery schiller which glitters and shifts as it catches the light.

MAY: BERYL

May’s original birthstone was emerald, which is great and can stay, but we’re also adding its siblings! May is now represented by all beryls: Emerald, Aquamarine, Morganite, Bixbite, Heliodor, Goshenite, and whatever other varieties I’m forgetting to list. A bright and saturated rainbow of colors is represented here, so everyone born in May is sure to find something they like.

JUNE: ORGANIC GEMSTONES AND FOSSILS

It’s time to address the alexandrite in the room, and obviously we’re getting rid of alexandrite. A stone worth $15,000 to $70,000 a carat does not belong on the same list as friggin amethyst. Instead we’ll look at the other traditional June birthstone, pearl. The problem with pearl is that it’s a clear outlier in this list. An organic gemstone, by some definitions not even a mineral. Should we replace it? NO. We are OWNING it. All organic gemstones now belong to June. Pearl is joined here by jet, amber, coral, ivory, ammolite, petrified wood… in fact, June can have every fossil ever.

JULY: SPINEL

July was originally represented by ruby, which is a fine stone and won’t be kicked off the birthstone list - we’re just shuffling it down to September. Replacing ruby for July is spinel. (See, it’s funny because historically spinel has often been mistakenly identified as ruby! That's a little gemology humor for you.) Available in any hue you could possibly desire, spinel offers some nice color options to a month that previously only featured red. Of course if you want to keep wearing red, red spinel mimics ruby so well that you’ll barely notice the difference.

AUGUST: PERIDOT

Nope, we’re not changing this one. Peridot is the ideal gemstone and you ungrateful August whiners can die mad about it. HOW ABOUT YOU LEARN TO APPRECIATE PERFECTION

SEPTEMBER: CORUNDUM

Sapphire is a wonderful, classic stone and it deserves its spot on this list. But the corundum family has been separated for far too long, and we’re finally going to reunite them. Joining sapphire in September is its sister ruby. Between the pinks and reds of ruby and the many, many colors of sapphire, these two stones give September a nice variety of colors.

OCTOBER: TOURMALINE

Look, as gorgeous as opal is and as much as I love it, it is both way too pricy for our list and also TERRIBLE in jewelry. This stone is just too brittle to wear around from day to day and can be ruined just by getting it wet, which makes wearing your birthstone a huge hassle. We’ll kick opal out and hang on to October’s other traditional birthstone, tourmaline. Pink tourmaline may be classic, but this stone comes in plenty of other colors. Whether it’s brown dravite, watermelon elbaite, or the rare and beautiful blue indicolite, you can wear them all!

NOVEMBER: TOPAZ

November can keep topaz, but we’re not confining it to the color yellow. This stone comes in a huge variety of colors, and now they can ALL represent November. No further notes; it’s a nice, classic stone.

DECEMBER: ZIRCON

I dunno, I’ve had to come up with 12 of these, I’m burnt out. Sure, zircon, whatever.

“BUT WAIT,” you say. “Now instead of having a single color assigned to each month, almost every month is represented by almost every color, making it impossible to tell anyone’s birthstones apart and removing what made them special and recognizable as symbols!”

Well CLEARLY you didn’t read the title of this list.

[teamred]

any other way

✩‌ logan howlett/wolverine x reader | fluff | 1.8k

SUMMARY | in which your good friend, wade, ditches your planned movie night, but his roommate offers to watch one with you instead. however, logan ends up falling asleep on your shoulder.

WARNINGS | drinking, kissing, swearing, gets a little steamy/handsy

RATING | teen+

NOTES | it's funny... i've been a big x-men fan for a while, but i never really fell for logan until d&w. if this pops off, maybe i'll write more for him!!!

///

“Wade, hurry up and let me in! A girl can only hold freshly popped popcorn for so—oh.” 

Instead of your dear, annoying friend, it’s his gorgeous, rugged roommate who answers the apartment door instead. Your eyes sweep over him, taking a liking to how his brown plaid button-up drapes over his white tank top. His clothing choices compliment his sturdy frame and strong pecs. His facial hair is perfectly groomed and—  

And it doesn’t help that you have just the teeniest, tiniest crush on him. 

“Logan, hey!” you exclaim, a little too enthusiastically. “I didn’t know you were going to be here for movie night too.” 

“Wade’s not here, bub,” Logan says, leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms and a sympathetic half-smile.

“What?! That little shit said he’d be free tonight…”  You sigh, shaking your head. “Well, it’s all good. I’ll just—” 

“Did you want to watch a movie with me instead?” Logan offers. You think you hear a hint of hopefulness in his voice. “Since you came out all this way?” 

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to bother you. I’m sure you’re—”

“Darlin’,” he interrupts with a soft chuckle. Your heart stumbles at the sound. “I have never been more free on a Saturday night. You’re welcome to join me, but only if you’re comfortable with it.” 

Now your heart is melting over his kindness. You smile warmly. “I always feel comfortable around you, Logan.” 

He returns the smile and gestures for you to come in, offering to take the popcorn and if you want anything as you remove your shoes.

“I got it, but thank you. A beer would be good,” you reply, settling in on one end of the couch in the living room. You glance around curiously. “Is Blind Al not home either?” 

“Yeah,” Logan calls from the nearby kitchen, bending towards the open fridge to grab the drinks. “She’s getting, in her own words, ‘turned up’ at the casino tonight.”

You snicker as you browse through streaming services to pick a movie for tonight. Logan returns with a beer in each hand and you’re surprised when he takes the middle seat next to you. You catch a whiff of his scent and it is intoxicating–a blend of woody notes, perhaps leather and pine. 

“So what’s the movie for tonight?” Logan asks, taking a sip from his bottle. 

“Well, be honest with me here: Wade promised that we could watch this new movie that just released a few days ago, but it’s a romantic movie, so—” 

“Of course,” he cuts in with a roll of his eyes, tossing a kernel into his mouth. “That’s his favourite genre.” 

You deflate a little. “Okay, with that tone, I’m assuming I will have to change the movie choice.” 

“No! Don’t change it because of me,” Logan quickly interjects. “We can watch whatever you want. I’m genuinely content to just sit here and do something other than watching reruns I’ve seen a million times before.” 

You study him for a moment, trying to gauge his sincerity. “Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure,” he reassures you, nodding and flashing another smile. You will yourself to calm your racing heart and focus on finding the movie. Once you select it, you press play and relax into the couch cushions. 

Out of nowhere, Logan places his arm around you, his hand slightly hovering above your shoulders. You stiffen at the unexpected move, unsure why he’s doing it. But then he quickly pulls back, shuffling a bit away from you.

“Shit, sorry,” he mutters, clearly embarrassed. “It’s out of habit when I watch stuff.”

“You can leave your arm there,” you blurt out. You don’t even register the words coming out of your mouth. Where was this boldness coming from? 

He quirks an eyebrow, amused. “Yeah?” 

“Mm-hmm,” you nod fervently, rushing to grab your beer to steady your nerves. Taking a long sip, you try to force your body to relax again. 

The first few minutes of the movie starts quite slow, but your eyes are glued to the screen to ensure you don’t miss the exposition. Just as you reach for the popcorn, so does Logan, and the back of your hands brush against each other. 

“Sorry,” you both mumble, glancing at each other in awkwardness and something hanging in the air. He juts his chin out with a subtle smirk, gesturing you to go first. You grab a handful, and as he follows suit, his fingers graze against yours, causing you to shiver. 

The air in the room is electric, and you wonder if the tension is just in your head or if Logan feels it too. The movie continues, but your thoughts are consumed by the warmth of his body so close to yours and the possibility of what might happen next. 

Later into the movie, you freeze as you feel Logan leaning in closer. You turn your head, ready for what might happen–

But then, he goes completely lax, slouching into your shoulder and resting his head in a comfortable position. 

“I should’ve chosen a different movie…” you think, shaking your head. 

It’s hard to focus on the movie with this gorgeous being asleep on your shoulder (and the movie doesn’t seem to be that great anyway). Towards the end of the movie, your attention drifts completely and you indulge in how Logan sleeps. His soft snoring. The gentle squeezes he gives your shoulder as he dreams. The steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes in and out. 

Suddenly, Logan stirs and lifts his head, almost snorting up air cutely. He blinks groggily. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry, gorgeous. Did I sleep through the movie?” 

You hesitate, hung up on the fact that he called you gorgeous. Your cheeks prickle as you search for the right words to say.

“Yeah, you did,” you whisper with a small smile. “But it’s fine. It wasn’t that great anyway.” 

“Mm, figures,” he mumbles. “Did you wanna watch another movie or—” 

As he straightens up, you instinctively lean towards him, closing the gap between you two. Your noses practically touch.

“Or did you wanna do…” Logan’s voice is low and gravelly. You hold your breath and hold his gaze. “...something else?” 

You barely nod, and he drags you into a searing kiss. His hands cup your cheek and neck with urgency. Soon enough, his tongue dips into your mouth, sending a jolt to your core. 

Logan cradles your body and carefully positions you lower onto the couch. The weight of his body pressed up against you sends you into overdrive. His hands dive underneath your shirt, exploring your soft skin. The pressure of his body against yours leaves you breathless. Not only the pressure of his body, but also his—

“Winner winner, chicken dinner!” 

Wade’s booming voice cuts through the front door like a tornado, forcing both of you to scramble away faster than opposing magnets. However, it’s too late; Wade has witnessed everything. 

“Oh, my God, Blind Al, my plan worked! It fucking worked!” Wade squeals, jumping up and down. 

“Oh, no. Are they butt-ass naked on the couch? Times like these, I’m grateful to be blind.” 

“No, they’re thankfully fully clothed. But they were just dry humping the shit out of each other though.” 

“You ditched movie night on purpose, you asshole!” you screech. 

“Hey, you should be thanking me,” Wade retorts with a wink. “You and Wolvie always have had palpable sexual tension every time you were in a room together. Hell, even Laura agreed it’d be a good idea to set you two up.” 

Logan and you exchange a sheepish smile, acknowledging the truth in Wade's words. 

“Blind Al and I will just be basking in our casino winnings with a few drinks and then we’ll be out of your hair in a few. And then you two can carry on and fuck each other freely on the couch.” 

“But keep it down, please,” Blind Al adds with a hint of desperation.

“I probably should get going now,” you chime in, eager to avoid the awkwardness. Logan quickly follows behind, walking you to the front door. 

“I’m sorry about all this,” he says in sincerity.

You wave him off. “You never have to apologize for them. They’re like family; I’m used to them.” 

“I didn’t know where the night was heading, but—” He turns around to check over his shoulder, lowering his voice and leaning in slightly. “—I’m glad Wade set us up.” 

“Heard that!” Wade calls out from inside the apartment. 

“Damn it,” Logan mutters, making you giggle. “Anyways, would you let me take you out on a proper date tomorrow night?” 

You beam as you reply, “I’d love that.” 

“Great, I’ll call you later.” 

Logan steps outside of the apartment and closes the door behind him, pulling you in by your waist for another kiss. Innocent at first, but then he presses you up against the wall and his hands grips at your waist, extracting a few moans from you.

“Either get back inside or just go home with her rather than wall-fucking her outside of the apartment!” Wade’s muffled voice echoes through the thin walls. 

Logan retreats slightly, his breath warm against your cheek. He keeps his voice low. “And not trying to put pressure on our date tomorrow, but if—”

“If things get heated, let’s go back to my place,” you finish his thought with a soft promise. 

His eyes light up with a relieved smile. “You read my mind. Thank you.” 

You smile into one last kiss, the world fading away as you savor the sensation of Logan’s mouth on yours.

Until Wade pops his head out through the door like a whack-a-mole you’re dying to hit. “Okay, seriously. I will offer you my bedroom, if you’re really that horny, you guys.” He calls out your name. “Also, did you know he can smell how horny you are?” 

“I—what?” you stammer, blinking in confusion.

“Wade, shut the fuck up,” Logan snaps with gritted teeth. He faces you again with a gentle smile. “Have a good night, gorgeous. I’ll call you as soon as you get back home.” 

Logan’s a man of his word, almost calling immediately as you stepped foot in your apartment (with Wade providing unnecessary commentary in the background, as always). 

Later, as you get ready for bed, you can’t help but admit how grateful you were for Wade’s set-up. If it wasn’t for him, neither of you would’ve made a move; it would’ve progressed at a glacial pace. 

Lying in bed and looking up at your bedroom ceiling, you think to yourself how tonight truly was perfect, and you wouldn’t have had it any other way. Smiling, you drift off to sleep, dreaming of what tomorrow’s date might bring. 

ENDING NOTES | thank you so much for reading and giving some love! part two can be read here!

[silasours]

ৎ⸝⸝⠀COCKWARMING ! —

#pairing : lucifer, alastor, vox, valentino, x gn reader. #cw : 18+ content, mdni. unprotected sex. edging. office sex. public sex. sub/power sub reader. no mentions of specific anatomy. vox is in an online meeting for work. touch starved lucifer. val blowing his smoke on you for fun. non proofread because it's six in the fuckin morning and I have not slept a wink. #summary : in which they keep themselves buried deep inside of you while being busied by other stuff. #note : save me, I've been writing nothing but hazbin smut lately. i should really start working on other shows.. alastor's a bit shorter than the others, can't really think of a solid idea for him and I wanted to get this out as soon as possible

ʚ LUCIFER .

lucifer whines when you force him to focus on his unfinished work once again. he has been going back and forth from attempting to thrust into you, but you always found a way to press him down in his place firmly. he had some unfinished work that he left sitting in his office for almost a week now, and it irritated you. that's when you offered to cockwarm him while he worked, get him to finally get his hands on those unfinished works.

being absolutely touch starved, lucifer agreed without hesitation unaware of how miserable and impatient this will make him. his hand remain on his working desk, occasionally scribbling some words and a signature on the paper filled with printed words. he does his best to resist the urge to finally thrust into you, worried that you'd leave him unsatisfied if he doesn't do as he's told.

but there's a limit to how much he can contain himself, especially when he has you sitting on his lap with his cock stuffing you to the brim, when you'd tease him so often by clenching around him or moving your hips ever so slightly. lucifer whines every time, the hand that's placed on your hip squeezing on your flesh desperately.

"can i please.. just finish this up later?" his voice muffled from nuzzling his face into your shoulder, eyes closed shut to focus on the warmth engulfing his throbbing member. you let out a small chuckle, baring your teeth into his neck to draw out those pretty moans of his; his cock leaks pathetically inside of you.

"no can do, luci. you're not going to get whatever you want until you finish up." you pull away and tilt your head slightly, pressing a soft kiss onto his jaw while giving a quick glance at the papers sprawled across his desk. he's only halfway done with them. "you're doing pretty well, no? you're halfway done."

lucifer groans, annoyed as he picks up the pen from the desk again while reading through the papers. this time, you decide to tease him a little more instead of staying still. you connect your lips with his exposed neck, sucking on the sensitive skin as your hips slowly grind against his. you hear his breath hitch, his knuckles turning white from how hard he's gripping you.

your name spills out from his lips breathlessly, following with a whimper that you love so much. you carry on with your actions, dark marks gradually bloom all over his skin like breathtaking flowers. lucifer shifts to lay his forehead on your shoulder, shuddering from pleasure; you tug on his soft hair, firm enough to lift his head up from your shoulder.

"stay focused, luci. remember what's waiting for you to finish your work."

ʚ ALASTOR .

"oh, what a twist!" alastor exclaims with his eyes glued to the book he's reading, chuckling like you're not clenching down on his cock out of desperation. your eyes are teary as you turn to peek at the page he's on, frustration brewing in your chest. upon noticing your reaction, alastor laughs while moving his hand to cup your face, leaning in with a grin. "don't you agree, my dear?"

you groan, parting your lips further enough to drop his thumb into your mouth, biting down on it. alastor mutters a small "fiesty" before buckling up his hips, watching your eyes widen from the sudden pleasure that shoots up your veins. his arm tightens around your waist to stop you from squirming around excessively.

"put.. the fuckin' book down, a-alastor.." your nails dig into his shoulder through the fabric of his shirt, the back of your other hand hovering over your mouth with a frown on your face. alastor smiles in response, holding the book between the both of you now that there's a gap.

"why, it has only gotten interesting! patience is key, darling."

"it has been almost a whole fucking hour, alast-" your words get cut off by yet another harsh thrust of his hips, an uncontrollable moan slipping off your tongue. a low, barely audible grunt could be heard coming from alastor because of how you're squeezing around him like your life depends on it.

slowly, he places the book down, pushing two digits into your mouth as his sharp nails graze past your gums. your tongue swirls around them, gaze fixated on his that seems to be mocking your desperation. you grind your hips, wanting to feel more of that sensitive spot in you being stimulated by his tip brushing against it. alastor grunts every time you tighten around him, the feeling making his skin jump and his eyes close shut from the pleasure he receives.

you reach for the book to toss it aside, not allowing him any chance to get it back and return to what he was previously putting you through. he laughs at the action before getting cut off by yet another groan, a frown slowly finds its way to spread across his face despite the grin that remains on his lips.

"the book shall wait after all."

ʚ VOX .

the sound of vox's workers and colleagues echoes through his workplace, the source of it coming from the laptop that sits in front of him. he's holding an urgent meeting with them to discuss some things about work, yet you're here obediently sitting on him, cockwarming him. your arms hug his neck tightly, hands grabbing tightly onto his shirt while listening to him speak to the people in call.

you bite down every moan that builds in your throat, not allowing any sound to be heard by anyone but your partner. times when vox isn't discussing important matters, he leans into your ear to whisper praises, thrusting into you, and stops so suddenly when you're close to release.

he grins as you whine at the sudden loss of friction, skin flushed while feeling him draw lazy circles on your hips with his thumbs. he starts speaking again just when you're about to voice your frustration, drawing out a grumble from you. you stay there unattended, glancing at the part where the two of you connect; you're craving release, and you're done waiting.

with a steady pace, you move your own hips while holding onto his shoulders for support. vox's head snaps toward your direction, teeth gritting as he bites back the groans that threaten to leave his lips. he tries to hold you down, but his body betrays him and allows you to carry on with your movements. his head tilts back to lean against the headrest of his chair, the words that his workers speak gradually shifting to a blur in his mind.

"fuck, w-wait," his breath grows heavy, barely managing to keep his eyes open as you fuck yourself on his cock. you're supposed to be cockwarming him, not riding him. he has allowed you to the point of no return, how is he going to carry on with the meeting now? you grab him and connect your lips with his, drinking in his groans like how he does to your moans.

ignoring the calls of his name from the meeting, he pulls you closer by the waist as you grind yourself on him. it wasn't until he started getting annoyed by the meeting that he broke away from the kiss, strings of saliva still connecting your lips while his hand reached out to shut the laptop down. the room falls to a sudden silence, the only sounds that remain are your heavy breathing.

"you're gonna fuck up my company if this carries on," vox snickers before crashing his lips with yours again, hands holding onto your hips to thrust into you without anything holding him back this time.

ʚ VALENTINO .

you still can't process the fact that you're in valentino's studio with his cock buried deep inside of you while people walked around to work on set. valentino takes puffs from the cigarette he holds between his fingers, often ordering and even yelling at people as they rush to obey his commands.

nobody pays any mind to the both of you; in fact, they see it as something normal. after all, they're working for a porn producer, what is there not to be normal? you keep your face stuffed in the fluff of his coat, hands gripping tightly onto his outfit while still trying to adjust to how good he stretches you apart. everyone has just started working, and the set is still being prepared for a new film.

"you're tighter than usual my love, are you that excited to be around everyone?" he teases with a mocking tone, puffing out a wisp of pink smoke onto your flushed face. you lightly shake your head with a whine, the smoke that you inhale causing your vision to spin immediately. humming, valentino lifts your body up with the help of his lower pair of arms before roughly slamming you back down onto his cock. "I doubt that. you've always loved being fucking in public, no? look at you,"

you gasp, body tensing as a moan escapes your throat. you immediately bite down on your lower lip, eyes screwing shut while simultaneously having your body trembling under his hold. you don't want to draw too much attention to yourself, yet the idea alone excites you in an odd way that you never knew it would. noting your reaction, valentino continues repeating the action before stopping promptly, feeding himself with your choked back moans.

"keep looking pretty like that while i work, i'll have a reward waiting for you." you mewl at his words, giving him a weak nod while tugging onto his shirt. he takes another long drag from his cigarette before letting his gaze fall onto the prepared set displayed in front of him, eyes scanning for the stars of the show in the room.

he would moan softly into your ear whenever you clenched around him, teasing you with his mere voice and carrying on with his work. you don't complain, though, considering how you'll be fucked into a moaning mess once he's done with work.

© silas ( @silasours ). all rights reserved. every work posted on this account belongs to me, and only me. please refrain from reposting, plagiarizing, translating, or reproducing my work in any form possible.

[hoshigray]

𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐝 | satoru gojō

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Is it possible to wish to be in the embrace of someone who makes you want to throw them off a cliff? You seem to think so, and the same goes for Gojo. But alas, good things always come to an end, even when not meant to be...

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Gojo x fem/afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern + college AU - frenemies to lovers + mutual pining - Gojo and reader are at least age 20 - implied fwb relationship - catching/awakening feelings - oral (m! receiving) - ball massaging + sucking - sex in a shared room; college dorms (alone) - cowgirl position on a chair - breast fondling + sucking + nipple play - protected sex (psa: wrap it up, or get tf up) - pet names (baby, cutie, pretty, princess) - heavy depiction of a blowjob - cameos: Haibara and Ijichi - fluff + angst; misunderstandings - humor bc i'm [not] funny.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.6k

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: second part, let's goooo!! i loved ur support and comments from the first story, so hope y'all are excited for this part :DDD and ty so so so MUCH for 5.5k like??? i kiss you on cheek, every single on of you, hehehe~

prev story » ❤︎ « next story

“If you’re not gonna help, then leave my dorm!”

“Ehhhh, hell no! It’s cold as fuck outside; you want me to freeze to death?”

“They’re…still going at it.”

“Yeah…give it a minute, and we’ll just go to the library without them?”

It’s coming down to the last week of January; university students are finally settling in with their new schedules and getting used to the groove of the spring semester. Or some run around trying to keep up with the new semesters and the change of weather already getting on people’s nerves, wanting nothing more than spring to come quickly.

Three weeks in, and you already have stuff to do, one of them being an argumentative presentation assigned by Professor Yaga in your Contemporary Issues class. You and three other people are tasked to find sources for a topic issue you find interesting and then present a discussion-based presentation on two sides of the topic (two people in favor and two people against).

Unfortunately, the groups were to be randomly assigned. Luckily, two friends you knew in the class, Haibara and Ijichi, were picked to work alongside you! However, the bad part was that another person you knew was assigned to work with you, and he happens to be the guy getting on your last nerves right now, sitting on your couch while clicking through the television channels with the remote. 

Your roommates weren’t home today. The club fair was occurring at the quad, so Mei Mei and Utahime had to go out and represent their clubs for the afternoon. Shoko is having an intense study session with Geto for an exam on the first of February, so they’re at the library now. 

That leaves you alone at your dorm, using this as a perfect opportunity to invite your group over to work on the project. 

“You can freeze your nuts off and become the next Jack Frost for all I care; if you’re not going to do your part of the work, get out!”

Well, minus you yelling at your partner, who clicks his teeth before turning to you. His round sunglasses shone from the light reflected from the living room windows.

Satoru Gojo was your number one nemesis within these campus grounds; this was a known fact to everyone, especially the other group members who nervously examined you two bicker. Being in the same space as him is enough to make you wish you could pull your hair out or put him in the nastiest headlock you could do. Worse, being assigned to the same group as him for your project almost made you want to rip your ears off. 

But you had to suck it up; at least you were the first group to start a presentation. Better now than worry about it later, right? 

“Pssh, fine, I’ll get up and—Oh! Wait, you guys have Digimon on Hulu? Ahhh, sick!” 

Nevertheless, you can’t say that when your supposed partner acts like a child glued to your TV screen instead of doing the work he promised to do. You grit your teeth with a twitching brow, “Why you…”

Across from the common area was the kitchen, where Haibara and Ijichi sat at the dining table. The two sophomores could do nothing but feel the tension between you and Gojo grow with every passing second, suffocating the younger duo. Haibara eyes Ijichi from across the table and whispers, “Wanna make a run for it now?”

The black-haired second-year didn’t reply, only a hurried nod before the two grabbed their coats and stuffed their laptops back into their backpacks. The sound of their zippers alerts your ears, turning to them to question, “Huh? Where are you two going?” 

Haibara takes it upon himself to deliver a half-lie as he zips up his jacket. “On second thought, Ijichi and I are thinking of taking the shuttle to the library to work instead.”

Huh? The library? Were they leaving because of the belligerence between you and Gojo? God, you hoped not. “Wait, you guys don’t have to do that. I already made you guys walk all this way here; it’d be rough to have you leave for somewhere else…”

Ijichi comes with the assist after putting the sling of his messenger bag around his shoulder. “It’s okay, Y/n. We found material from the library we could use as sources, so we’re heading up there to take some notes while they’re there.” 

“Yup!” Haibara exclaims in agreement, and the two walk past you to put on their shoes by the front door. “Maybe you guys can find sources of your own while we’re gone, and then we can converse and share what we found when we come back. Sounds good?” 

“I suppose so…” you couldn’t shake the feeling that they were leaving to avoid being in the same room as you and Gojo. The guilt is hard to endure since you didn’t mean to make the younger boys uncomfortable. “See you guys, then.”

“Cya!” And with that, the door closes on their way out, leaving you and Gojo alone in your apartment. 

Well, this is just great; you’ve driven your group members and friends away and are now stuck with the nuisance of a partner who still keeps his attention on the television. It takes everything in your power not to pop a vein. But with one calm breath, you steady yourself and stand tall. 

You walk in front of the TV, blocking it from Gojo’s view. The white-haired boy throws his hands up in exasperation, but you couldn’t care less. “What’s the big idea?” He questions you as if he has a right to at this moment. 

You cross your arms across your chest with narrow eyes. “Haibara and Ijichi just left.”

“Uhh, yeah, I heard the door,” he maneuvers his body to try and see the children’s show blocked by your figure. “Doesn’t have to do with me—“

“It does have to do with you.” You interrupt him, taking two steps and bending to stare him down. Your face is a foot away from his. “You’re supposed to be here to work with Haibara on the ’no’ part of the argument while me and Ijichi do our part. You’ve only been here for thirty minutes, and the only thing you’ve done successfully is take off your shoes at the door and read your manga books on the couch. 

Gojo chuckles – oh, how you hated his laugh – as he puts his hands behind his head, spreading his long legs from their crossed form. “You heard them, no? They’re going to research on their own and then come back. Besides, you know I’m not one to start stuff right away. I’m a procrastinator, remember?”

“You’re annoying; that’s what you are.” You straighten up with a heavy sigh.  God, I wish Utahime and Shoko were here. They’d help me out with this white garbage…

“Ahhh, lighten up, Y/n. It’s not like the presentation is on Monday; we got until Friday to come up with everything.”

“Yeah, I’m aware of that, smartass. And you’re right: I do know you. And I know you tend to do things at the last fucking minute. But not this time!” You watch him try to put his feet up on the coffee table, and you quickly intervene by kicking them off. 

“Tch. Look, you knew what you were getting into being partnered with me. And relax; those two said they’ll be back to discuss the material later. They already left – nothing I can do about it.”

Your hands rest at your hips, tapping your foot with visible frustration. “Oh? And I wonder why they left in the first place, Gojo. Mind telling me how?”

He quirks up a brow with a smug grin — a telling sign that you’d get ticked off with whatever he’s about to say. “I don’t know, Y/n. Why not ask the nagging control freak talking to me right now, huh? Maybe their short height and angry temper are affecting the mood of those around them to be miserable like them.” 

You almost did it — your hands nearly gave into your intrusive thoughts and were about to lunge at the snow-haired guy’s neck to wring around like a rag doll. But you played it off with a clap, rubbing the palms together to distract your temporary violent thoughts.

You sucked your teeth and turned on your heel. “Forget it. I’m gonna go take a nap.”

He scoffs, “Good, maybe your tiny brain needs it to calm down.”

“Choke and die, Gojo!” You say down the hall, already at the door of your shared bedroom. Before slamming the door shut, Gojo’s patronizing laughter can be heard to your dismay. With gritted teeth, you march to your bed to throw yourself on the mattress. 

“Ughhh. That Satoru Gojo,” you curse his name under your breath as if he’d hear you through the walls. “So unserious…”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

To be quite honest with himself, Gojo doesn’t necessarily hate you.

The white-haired boy lies on his side on Utahime’s bed, watching you nap. He did knock on the door – believe him, he did. He even gave you the good old ten-second rule, waiting for your response. But then you didn’t, which gave him the initiative to waltz in and see you in your slumber.

You slept so peacefully; your face at peace, and your faint snores were the only things his ears picked up on. It was as if your little nagging show from earlier was hard to comprehend when seeing your tranquil state in front of him. It used to be rare to see you like this. Keywords: used to be.

For the past two to three weeks, your relationship with Gojo has become more…intimate. Ever since he took your first kiss and drew your virgin curtains, the two of you have gotten a little closer than before — both platonically and physically. Something that Gojo never thought he’d experience with you, his tiny, cute frenemy. 

Gojo has known you since freshman year; you were two in the same enrichment group to prepare you to transition into college life. Personally, he wasn’t much for the program; he found it a waste of time, a mandatory prerequisite that he felt he didn’t need. He’s all about experience, wanting nothing more than to get on with his day, go to classes, hang with friends, and repeat. 

“Hello, my name is Y/n. It’s nice to meet you all!”

And then came you, the person sitting across from him at the round table your group would always meet at. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enamored by you the second he saw you. Gojo rarely finds someone who could easily pull his eyes to them — not saying the girls who’d usually crowd and admire him weren’t pretty. There was something about you that kept him wanting to know more – to engage more – about you. 

One thing he knew from you was that you carried your character with pride. Your achievements, your personality, your kindness, and your mannerisms — all of which were displayed elegantly and were a breath of fresh air to look at. You stood out to him more than all the other kids in the group, his eyes always finding a way to steer from the professor’s advice to your alluring, listening face. 

Another thing Gojo liked about you was that you weren’t afraid to stand your ground, especially when discussing with your peers or him. Sure, you were always respectful and would respect other people’s arguments. But, God, the way you said things so constructed and nuanced, it had the tall other glued to you whenever you spoke.

He’s not going to lie; he’ll admit that he’d try to tick you off and get you to get a little angry with him when it came to arguing. He couldn’t help it. He just liked the thought of you layering out of your poised appearance to the point you’d glare at him whenever you saw him in the halls. And it had him giddy knowing he’s the one that made you angry because you looked cute. 

And that was the other thing he really liked about you. The more you two interacted, argued, hung out with his friends, or attended classes together, the more Gojo’s fascination for you turned into that of a school-boy crush. He wouldn’t admit to anyone of this (minus Geto and Shoko if his life depended on it) because it certainly wasn’t something to be known. He was okay with what you two had right now, being the friend who loves to push your buttons to see you nag at him. 

That was until you two started sleeping together. Because holy fuck, the past weeks you two have been sneaking time to have each other’s bodies close made Gojo’s mind go crazy. So fucking crazy like the feeling of you on him is borderline addicting. Your whiny cries calling out to him when he scrapes your sweet spots, your nails scrape on his chest, your half-lidded eyes when you look at him, or how you whisper his name only for him to hear.

This was the kind of relationship you two brewed, a secret thing only between you two. And Gojo was satisfied keeping it like this because it was what you wanted. No need to flaunt it around; it was no one’s business. Besides, he likes having you to himself, seeing a side of you that only he could imagine and experience.

The sensations of your body under his touch, the various tunes of your voice, and the beauty exhibited in your gaze. It was all addicting. You were addicting.

“Who told you to lie on my roommate’s bed? You know she’ll kill you if she ever saw you.” 

It was so addicting that he didn’t even notice you awake until you spoke to him, the erotic memories of you clouding his brain dissipating at the indication of your voice. He smirks, “Oh, I’ll be fine; not like she can hurt me with her tiny self.”

You’re too groggy to roll your eyes, sighing as you turn to your side to face him from across the room. “How long was I out for?”

“Almost an hour,” he replies, switching to sit criss-cross on Utahime’s bed. “I got bored watching TV and knocked.”

“How long have you been in here?”

“Maybe twenty minutes?”

“Just watching me sleep?”

“Yeah.”

You let out a scoff, shaking your head. “Weirdo.”

He snickers at you for recognizing his silliness. “Whaaat? There’s not much to do aside from looking at you. I got bored of the TV.”

“What about your manga?”

“Got bored of that, too.”

“Anyone on your socials that you’d wanna talk to? Girls? Friends? Your teammates?”

“Mmm, nah, none I’d wanna talk to right now.”

Your brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Hmm?”

“What do you mean ‘right now’? You make it seem like I’m keeping you from interacting with your outside life. If you’re bored, talk with whoever you want. Maybe bother Geto…No, nevermind, he’d probably be annoyed since he’s studying.”

Gojo examines you, silently removing himself from your roommate’s bed and treading towards yours. He takes off his sunglasses and places them on top of your dresser before sitting on his knees on the floor. He rests his hands and chin on the edge of your bed, his sky-blue eyes locked in with yours. God, you were so beautiful to look at. 

“I meant that I don’t want to talk to anybody.” Now that he’s closer to you, his voice dials to a whisper. “Not when I got you here to myself.”

He notices your brows drawing upward at the sentence. “To yourself?”

“Mhmm,” he hums, bringing a forefinger to trace your brow. A sensual touch not to startle you. “Just you and me.”

You give him a look as if you think he’s trying to pull something. “Don’t tell me you were making me mad at you earlier just so Haibara and Ijichi could leave, and I’d be stuck with you.”

His smile broadens with every word, his dimples out to see. “No, although I hate that I didn’t think of that myself.” His hand goes to your cheek for his thumb to stroke gently. “Would it have been a bad thing if I did?”

You don’t reply, only placing your hand on his. Your eyes are still on his blue orbs, and – you don’t know this because Gojo has the perfect view of you – the light from the window made them shine charmingly as it highlighted your face. 

“No…I don’t think so,” you murmur, gaze gradually venturing down to his lips. “I like being around you…Satoru.”

He heard his name leave your lips, an invitation to what he wants to do, his eyes fixated on your lips before closing them and drawing in closer. “Me too…”

The kiss was soft and gentle like he always starts with, waiting for you to give him the okay to kiss you again. And when you meekly lick his bottom lip, he gives in to your request and claims your lips again. 

Your moans were so sweet to his ears — his favorite thing to hear — especially when he becomes a little devilish and sucks on your tongue to make you whimper a little louder, turning him on even more. It serves as the perfect distraction for him to snake a hand into your shirt, his hand already making itself home and cupping your breast in your bra. 

You break the kiss with a gasp, and massages to your mound make your breath shaky. “Mmmah…you sneaky pervert,” you name-call him sweetly. 

“Can’t blame me; I just know that you like to have your tits played with.” Gojo sneers, tweaking your nipple to hear you gasp again. “Hey, remember you said you’d suck me off next time?”

“Huh?” The question threw you off before you could fall deeper into a euphoric haze. 

“Don’t ‘huh’ me, you promised!” He whines to you like a hurt puppy. “After I ate you out for twenty minutes straight last time, can I just have your mouth on my dick once?”

“I never told you to eat me out for twenty minutes!”

“You crying and telling me not to stop said otherwise!” He stands his argument, even if you warn him with a glare. “Just suck it, please. I haven’t felt your mouth in a while.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. You didn’t expect to deal with his childish tendencies, but it is Gojo we’re talking about. You sigh, “…Fine, Satoru.” And then the white-headed boy beamed at the confirmation, immediately standing up and heading to your desk. It was an abrupt change of pace for a second until he brought your desk chair out. 

With glee, Gojo flings his jeans and boxers with ease, his half-hard cock out for you to see. He sits on your chair with spread legs, “I’m ready~.”

You roll your eyes, yet the smile on your face sneaks without you knowing while leaving your bed and crouching between his legs. “You’re such a big baby sometimes…”

Your hand finds its way to the body of his dick, gliding it up and down to feel the veins under your palm and fingertips. Gojo hums to your cold fingers, hitching his breath when you tease him with a blow of air. 

Your free hand comes to his balls, massaging his testicles in a way that has his leg jerk. He tries to fight it, but the squirm on his legs says otherwise. “Hahhh, fuck…quit it…”

“Hmm? What, you don’t like it when I tease you?” You peer up at him with a smug grin before using your tongue to lick on the glans slowly, and he covers his mouth before a gasp comes out after lapping on his frenulum. “But when you do it to me, it’s not a problem, huh?”

“Mmmph, shiit, Y/n—Ohhh…!” Another jolt of the hips after you lick and kiss one of his balls, teasing the skin with a kiss and tiny chews that would have him choke on his breath. “Jesus, fuck! Y/n, baby, you’re driving me crazy….Aishhh!!

“Oh, really?” God, you were such a fucking tease. But he fucking loved that so much. “What should I do?” You ask him before sucking on his balls again, and a hand comes to your shoulder to grip. 

“Mmmm…Blow me off, princess,” shivers crawl up his spine as you place kisses from the base of his cock towards the tip. “Please, I wanna feel you…” 

You giggle at his reply, finally taking in his cockhead to your pretty lips and sighing through your nose as you hollow your cheeks to take in more of him. 

Gojo sighs at your licks and sucks on his girth, his erection becoming accommodated to your oral cavity wonderfully. You unhurriedly prompt yourself to take in more of him until your lips reach his pubes, your throat now full of him, and the warmness of your gummy walls makes him squirm more. 

Bobbing your head at a moderate pace, you suck him off to that of a pleasurable cadence. You still use your hands to stroke him, Gojo melting to your touch even more. He throws his head back when you attack his tip again with the onslaught of licks and laps, the hand on his balls roughly kneading them jerks him to moan aloud. 

Fuck, it feels so fucking good having you suck him off like this. How your tongue moved up and down on him was so dangerous, prompting him to place a hand on your head for support. As if that would help, you don’t show him mercy when you suck him harder and faster. The noises coming from your mouth sounded so erotic and pornographic, the heat on his face brewing out more. 

“—Khhmm, fuck, man, I can’t…Ahhh! Y/n, I’m gonna cum if you keep licking it like that. Stop, st—Ahhaaa!!” 

But like he said before – you’re a tease (if not worse than him). You remove Gojo’s dick from your mouth and throat at once, the groan he exerts fueling the fire in your body. You stand to withdraw your shirt, bra, and panties to the ground, knowing Gojo’s watching every move. “Don’t get mad at me; I know how much you wanna cum inside.” 

You pull out the condom from the pocket of your skirt, placing the rubber on his cock after removing it from the wrapper. He couldn’t help but laugh, “Seems like you’re more of a pervert than me if you had that ready while those two were here earlier.” 

“Shut up,” you playfully kiss him with a sneaky bite to his bottom lip. Then, you mount and align your cunt on his dick, the glans kissing your wet labia. “Hmmm, fuck…”

“Relax, cutie,” he kisses you on the cheek while his hands fondle your breasts. 

You slowly descend your slit onto him, the tip of his cock pushing into the entrance of your vagina. A couple of exhales and inhales keep you steady when inserting him into you, not letting the pain distract you from the task at hand. And the both of you moan in unison when it makes it in, your hips leisurely coming down on him until your ass rests on his thighs. 

You grind on him with the roll of your hips, evoking choked intakes of air from him as a hand goes to your ass with vigor. His face to your chest while the other hand plays with one mound. His lips found a nipple to pop into his mouth to suck on. 

With a slow pace, you rock your hips onto him. Your legs bent for your feet to be on his knees, the chair solid enough to withstand you bouncing on Gojo’s dick with repetition.  

“Hoohhh, ohhhh, mmmm,” your hums are expressed in tunes. The curve of his cock is so fucking good, scraping your insides with precision. You couldn’t help but increase the speed just a little bit. 

Gojo keeps sucking on your nipple; the grazes of his teeth and pushing the bud up to the roof of his mouth only fuels more quivers to travel down your bouncing figure. Both of his hands now under your skirt to feel the flesh of your ass under his hungry grasp. He kneads your asscheeks with every thrust to your chasm, and your shrieks get louder by the second. 

“—Mmmph! Shit, shit, you feel so good, pretty,” he finally lets go of your hardened nipple, burying his face to your chest. “So fucking good for me…fuhuuuucck!

You could feel your cunt contract around him; every graze to your sensitive spots prompted your walls to grip around him. He hisses, looking up to see your expression as you ride him out. Fuck, you looked so good on top of him like this. He’ll add this position to the list of things to do again with you.

You peer down to see that Gojo is staring at you, and you quickly bring a hand to cover his eyes. “—Ahhahhn, d-don’t look at me like that! Yer soo embarrassing…!” 

He only chuckles at your shy demeanor, especially during this. But he humors you, not fighting your makeshift blind for him to see you wholly. He’s seen it all already — felt it all, too. And he could never get enough. 

“Ooooh, Satoruuu—Nnaaahh!” He loves how you say his name, your hand traveling to his hair to grab in tuffs. “Oh, fuck, ‘toruuu, I’m gonna cummm…!”

“—Hnngh! Yeah, baby?” Oh, he knows. The way you’re grinding to and fro on his pelvis tells him so. “Go ahead, princess. Clench on me and ride it out.”

And with that, your hips go to an erratic pace that has the both of you holding for dear life. The squeeze of your inner walls clenching on him almost makes him choke on his spit, the nails of his fingertips forming crescents on your skin. And you scream at it, slamming your ass onto him as you both climb up to orgasm. 

Within seconds, it hits the both of you like a train. This had to be Gojo’s favorite part of the entire thing, experiencing having your folds clamp and flutter around him as you cry for him. It took everything in his power not to come with you because he wants to have you on him a little longer. You just felt too good to let go — too addicted to your body to be done with one round.

When the contractions subside while your slurred howls get quieter, Gojo gives you a few minutes to let your body be free from the aftershocks. He knows your body is extra sensitive now, rubbing circles on your back and placing chaste kisses on your clavicle. You hum under his lips, letting the wave of your crescendo exude out from you quietly. 

However, since you wanted to be such a tease, why not be a tease back? At least, that’s what Gojo thought before he threw your cunt another snap of the hips, his cock jabbing into your delicate walls that haven’t recovered yet. A sharp cry comes from your puffy lips, the hand covering Gojo’s eyes finally freeing him to see you. 

He grins with hooded azure eyes, “Sorry, cutie, but I didn’t get to finish. Wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t get to have fun of my own, right?” 

You chew on your lip with trenched brows before bringing your face to his. “Don’t you get carried away like last time, Satoru.”

“No promises, princess~” he sings to your ear before humming into your lips. 

As mentioned before, Gojo doesn’t hate you — he just hates that he can’t fully express liking you. 

But having you on top of him like this, in his embrace, is a nice change of pace he’ll happily get used to.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Okay, everyone, class dismissed! Thank you for your time, and see you all on Friday.”

Professor Naga closes up the last class for today, and the students all get up from the seats of their elevated rows to pack up and leave. The clock is ten minutes before seven o’clock, the winter darkness already claiming the sky with a sheet of night. Students are either famished and heading to the dining hall for food, going straight to their dorms or homes, or staying behind for last-minute conversations.

Gojo was one of the latter, deciding to stay behind to chat with the group for a bit. After packing his backpack and putting on his coat, he slings from the table to jump to the row below him, where you were talking with Haibara and Ijichi. 

You watch his stunt, ready to lecture, “Jesus, Gojo, what’s all that for? You could’ve just walked around.”

“Ehhhh, why would I do that? That’s so lame.” He comes and bends close to you enough to slang his arm around your shoulders. 

But you click your teeth and try to maneuver away from his tall figure. “You’re lame,” you mutter under your breath.

However, Gojo’s ears perked with furrowed brows. “What did you say?”

“You heard me, you lame white furby!” You repeat yourself with a huff and the snow-haired student gawks at your brazenness. 

The two of you argue again; students passing by silently exit the class, others stand and watch, and Professor Yaga can only sigh at yet another altercation between you two. 

However, it quickly dissipates when Haibara laughs from his seat. “You two, there’s never a dull moment.”

You and Gojo blink at the dark brunette before removing Gojo’s hand from your shoulders. “Hmph, it’s not like it’s my fault; he’s the one who starts it.”

“Oh, what could I possibly do to make Y/n so upset with me this time?” He pushes up his sunglasses, snickering at the scowl you send him. 

Ichiji, being the passive second-year he is, meekly changes the topic from the row below you three. “On some brighter news, at least we did well on the presentation.” 

“That’s right!” Haibara happily agrees with the statement, leaning against the chair with his hands behind his head. “Professor Yaga seemed really pleased with our arguments; I don’t think he intervened even once. Plus, he said many good things about how we handled the topic. Nice one, team!” 

The raven-haired one hums at the other’s exclamation. “I think most of it goes to how Y/n and Gojo bounced off each other’s arguments. How you two pulled up examples from the articles yet remained dignified with your viewpoints was cool to witness. I even saw some students be engaged with the conversation, many amazed with how Y/n refuted Gojo’s arguments elegantly and respectfully.”

But most of all, what the two sophomores wanted to mention was that there was no yelling. To them, the professor, and all the students of this class, you and Gojo presented your presentation without a single tone of malice, no pointless teasing, no name-calling, nothing! It was a civil conversation between two opposing sides. To everyone’s surprise — and thankful stars — today was a success.

You chuckle nervously at the praise. “Oh, come on, you two, don’t let me and Gojo take all the credit. You guys did your part. Especially you, Ichiji; you were an exceptional help for my side and finding sources I could build off from.”

Gojo, on the other hand, rolls his eyes. “Psssh, don’t butter them up like that; without us, they would’ve failed this presentation big time. No offense.” He was forced to say that when you called him by his last name and hit him with your elbow.

None taken, the two younger friends say to themselves unbeknownst to each other. 

The tall one continues, “Besides, you were the one who did most of the work. I slacked off until the last minute when you whipped me into shape.” Gojo brings his hand on top of your head for a pat. The action surprised you enough to flinch a bit. “Nice work like always, Y/n.”

Were the stars aligned differently, or did Gojo just compliment you? It certainly took you aback, especially the two others who silently kept their observation to themselves. 

You could only look at his complacent look for a few seconds before you realized the warmth of your cheeks became stronger. Averting your eyes, you remove his hand from your head. “Thanks, Gojo…” you express gratitude. “You weren’t so bad yourself.”

A cheeky smile, his dimples prominent to blind you. “Awww, would you two look at that? They’re complimenting me, too~” Another bump to the chest has him cackling like a child, and you shake your head with rolled eyes.

The two younger students observe the scene before Haibara forcibly stretches and yawns to catch the two’s attention. “Man, I’m so hungry; I skipped lunch to prepare for this presentation. Me and Ijichi are gonna meet up with Nanami at the dining hall. You guys wanna come?”

You instantly beam at the proposal; who are you to refuse a dinner with your friends? “Sure! I’d love to…Oh! Wait, let me use the restroom and fill my water bottle.”

You rummage through your backpack for your water bottle before exiting the classroom. The boys watch you descend from row after row, and Gojo says, “Don’t take too long; I’ll convince them to leave without you.”

“Hmph, go ahead and try! They invited me; I don’t know who told you to invite yourself.” You stick your tongue out at him before opening and closing the door behind you. 

Gojo watches you with a smile still plastered on his face for a few seconds before Ijichi makes a tiny cough to catch his attention, the sunglasses-wearing junior turning to look back down to the other two. He notes the albeit cheesy-smiling faces they harbor, and he lifts a brow. “The hell are you two smiling for?”

The raven-haired sophomore squeaks at the sudden firm tone, “N–Nothing!”

“Pfft, oh come on, Kiyo; let’s not act like we didn’t see what we just saw.”

Gojo catches the nuance of Haibara’s comment. “Saw what?”

“You’re over here talking about our faces, but you’re the one who’s smiling at Y/n as they leave the door?” The brunette sophomore sends a wink to his junior, whose face doesn’t change at the comment.

“And your point is?”

“Well, it seems — to me, at least —  there might be something going on with you and Y/n?” 

Gojo was prepared for that, opening his mouth to interject quickly. However, the dark-haired other beat him to the punch. “Now that you mention it, Gojo and Y/n have been kind of…stable? There's still the usual arguments, but those haven't happened as much since last week…”

“Right!?” Haibara points at Ijichi with exclamation, making the other second-year flinch. “For some reason, things seem to be a little quieter with the two of them now, not to mention them hanging out way more often. Everyone’s been talking about it; even Geto and Shoko asked if Gojo had done anything that made Y/n passive?”

“I asked Nanami about it on Monday; he thinks maybe Y/n finally knocked some sense into Gojo’s childish brain to have him be so civil to engage without yelling their head off.”

“Pffthaha, I wouldn’t go that far. Y/n did just kick him in the shin yesterday for scaring them from behind.”

“Ahh, yes, well, that was deserved.”

“You two realize I’m still standing right the fuck here, right?” No, they hadn’t because the two discerned the twitch of Gojo’s brow after conversing about the tall, white-haired boy. 

“But it’s true!”

Another voice enters the set, making Gojo raise his head, and the other two turn to their left. It was some girl and her friend. Gojo knew of her; she sat next to him during class. Again, he knew of her, meaning she had no significance to his knowledge.

And yet, she speaks to the three boys. “You and Y/n have gotten a lot more close these past weeks compared to previous semesters—“

“Real close, too!” Their friend adds on from behind. “It’s as if you two are like a couple.”

“So…Are you two….a thing?”

Gojo could tell from a mile away what this was. Obviously, the first girl has a thing for him — he can see the anxiousness from the twiddle of her thumbs and avoidant eye contact. Although he wasn’t interested, he couldn’t even answer the question the way he wanted. What the hell could he say: that you two are in a secret relationship? He knows you’d have his grave ready before he could finish that confession.

And he can’t say the two of you are in any relationship either; it’s not what you would’ve told them. To everyone else, you and Gojo are friends who would preferably be caught dead rather than lying in bed together. So, might as well keep that facade up.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” he starts with the push of his sunglasses. “Y/n is a pretty good friend, and I’d like to keep it at that.”

Haibara and Ijichi turn from Gojo to look at each other and shrug. Before turning back, something caught their eye that caused the two sophomores’ skin to turn white.

Ijichi tries to prevent Gojo from speaking further. “G-Gojo—“

However, the tall one doesn’t listen. “I mean, sure, they got a nice personality and are independent…Kinda pretty, too, not gonna lie. But they’re not really my type. I mean, have you seen them? Just a little person who likes to find trivial stuff to yell at me over. Angry at the world around them, I’d say.“

“Go. Jo.” Haibara says the junior’s name through gritted teeth, bringing his hand up by his neck and drawing an imaginary horizontal line back and forth — a gesture for Gojo to not say anymore. But unfortunately, the sign wasn’t seen, and the words kept pouring out.  

“And to be honest, can you imagine? Me and Y/n, a couple? Jesus Christ, that would be fucking exhausting to deal with, especially with someone so boring and too uncute like them. I’ve seen prettier, been with better. I feel sorry for the poor bastard who does end up with them—“

“SATORU GOJO!”

Now — that sudden burst of yell from a loud, masculine voice — that was what got Gojo’s attention. It’s what got the attention of everyone else in the room. The snow-haired student jerks to look at the professor standing at the front, the older man with a deep frown. “What?

The professor doesn’t answer him. Instead, he points to the left of him with his chin with a huff. With common sense, Gojo turns behind him to see where the older man points. And at that moment, he felt his very being drop to the soles of his feet. Haibara and Ijichi took a slow breath in unison at the immediate tension.

Behind him stood you, a lone figure holding their water bottle within three arm’s length away from the group. But that was sufficient enough for you to have heard everything said. 

Breathing suddenly felt impossible for Gojo; his entire body was stiff under your gaze. His shades could hide his eyes, but he wasn’t sure it could shield the instant shame that slapped him across the face from you. 

And that was another thing: the look you harbored was indecipherable — the true definition of disengagement. There were no widened eyes, quivering lips, or shaky hands. You stood plainly and looked as though you were detached from the entire situation. And that was what scared him the most.

This was strike one.

He dared not move when you began walking up, and your eyes then shifted to ignore his presence. “Hey, Yu,” the brunette straightened his posture at the use of the first name. “I think I’ll have to decline on that dinner offer. I’m a little tired and have a paper I need to work on…Maybe next time?”

“Uhh, yeah, sure, no problem.” He answers with a sweat.

Wait a second. Gojo tries to call for you, “Y/n—“

“Ijichi,” but you immediately shut him down and directed your attention to the other sophomore friend as you put on your coat and stuffed your water bottle back into your bag. “Be sure to submit the presentation template and sources to the course site before the end of the day, please.”

“U–Uhh, already done, Y/n.” He squeaks while reassuring.

Wait, please. The tall one tries again, “Wait, Y/n—“

“Good.” You sling your backpack on, refusing to look at the person trying to talk to you. “Well, I’ll be seeing you, then.” And with that, you turn on your heel and head down the row to leave.

No, wait, stop— “Y/n, wait!” This was strike two. 

Gojo doesn’t hesitate to call out to you. At that moment, he follows you to the class steps where you were a row down left from the door. He grabs your hand without thinking, the size of your palm captured by his slender fingers. He knew it was a risky move, but he had to — he had to get you to talk with him right now, if not ever. Because the latter is something he isn’t ready for, something he didn’t think would be a possibility.

And yet, he will learn this lesson of being prepared for the impossible when you rapidly turn to him. Strike three.

SLAP!

Have you ever seen someone get smacked in the face so hard that their sunglasses come off? The remaining two girls who witnessed it know for sure now. Haibara and Ijichi won’t admit to it as they immediately turn to the other side of the room when they saw your hand move. But please believe they winced at the sound of the impact. The same goes for Professor Yaga, who was too stunned to speak, yet it was a valid outcome. 

Gojo didn’t move a single limb, allowing the stinging feeling on his cheek to course through his facial muscles. His eyes were glued to the carpeted ground; he knew that’s where they were supposed to be. And you snatched your hand away from his grasp, leaving his fingers to suffer in forced loneliness.

“You…you think it’s all fun and games to say stuff like that when I turn my back for a few minutes, huh?” He can see your hand palpitate from his peripheral; the anger depicted alone was enough to interpret. And the tremble in your voice? It felt like an arrow to his being. “…Look at me.”

He’d be a fool to have you repeat yourself; he has lost that right to toy with you now. With a slow inhale, Gojo rotates his head at you, azure eyes tracking up your figure to your face. And when it lands at that destination, his heart is shot down.

Tears stream down vexed, watery eyes. Your brows furrowed, and your bottom lip chewed in a terrible attempt to stop it from quivering. The rise and fall of your shoulders as you moderate your breathing, trying so hard not to let your temper dwell into a deeper phase of ugly. It was bad enough you’re crying in public, in front of your peers, your teacher — and it was because of him. 

“From this day forward,” you fight your sniffles to say your statement as clearly as possible. “Don’t you ever talk to me, Satoru Gojo. Enjoy your life without something as boring as me.”

And with that, you dismiss yourself from him and the class altogether, the room silent even after the slam of the door closed. No one says anything, too shocked from the event to utter a letter. 

The silence aids the ringing in Gojo’s ears, his breathing still having trouble maintaining a balanced front. The cheek you slapped burned with pain; he’s sure the skin is as red as a cherry. 

Oh, fuck.

He brings a hand to his face, his body fighting the trembling. The ringing in his ears worsens, along with the pounding in his head that beats like a drum. His eyes stuck to the ground below him, choosing to focus on something inanimate and not living. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck—

All he could think of in this time and place was you. Memories flashing right before him, of you and only you. He can hear the way you say his name, both in vexation and in sweet tunes. Your smiles, your frowns, your huffs, your whispers. When your eyebrows scrunch whenever you express worry for him, how you’re never afraid to stand up against him when making a point, the smile that’s been blinding him for many days and nights — the smile he wouldn’t mind seeing for eternity.

All those memories were one stab to his heart after another. And every time a recollection ended, a flash of your crying face would return to haunt him. Tears that weren’t meant to be there but were, and warm feelings you expressed with him were gone the moment he saw your eyes void of feelings for him. At least, that’s what he saw.

He hurt you. That was the only revelation that haunted him where he stood, making his voice falter from confidence. It was a revelation he never meant to bring about. And now that it exists and he sees the damage, nothing would be better for him now than the ground beneath him swallowing him whole.

“What…the fuck…”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 ❤︎ reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ dividers by @/cafekitsune & @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[sanguineterrain]

Jason is definitely the type to go feral over his best friend he hasn't seen in years. Hear me out: he's alive again, and not only that, but he's huge. Strong. People are afraid of him. So the reader is in town, walking the streets, and they meet again, maybe when he protects them as Hood. And reader is ecstatic to see Jason again of course and he's the same but also, all he can think is minemineminemine and I WANT YOU. mans is down horrendous for his sweet best friend that he missed and he's been in love with them for so long and now that he has them, he's not giving them up

idk if this was a prompt but i got inspired <3 thanks for stopping by anon

jason todd x gn!reader. feral jason i guess, but really soft jason. jason who yearns to be yours. jason who'd do anything for it, even if it meant one sided devotion... and also, jason who is loved by you. 1.2k words

****

"I don't understand why you can't come to my apartment."

"I told you why." Jason's posture is rigid but his tone is gentle. Because he has told you why he won't enter your home. Multiple times. Doesn't mean you don't challenge it every time you meet him on a random rooftop.

"It would be fine, Jay," you say. "I trust you."

"I know. But I don't trust everybody else," he says, words crackling through his modulator. That had frightened you at first; in fact, everything about a newly-resurrected Jason Todd had frightened you. From his height to the guns, you'd been sure that night in Gotham would be your last.

But then it had become clear that cheated death aside, nothing could kill his heart.

"You haven't visited in a while," you say.

You don't mean for it to sound accusatory.

"I know," Jason says. "Been busy. The Bats..."

And you knew. You knew the second you found out that Jason was alive that it would be like this, that he wouldn't be completely yours. He wasn't yours when he was Robin either, perhaps even less so.

And what's wrong with that? You have no right to ask him to be yours. To give you more.

But the recent distance has frightened you. Maybe it's for safety's sake, but your selfish heart wishes that he'd drop that for once.

Then again, there's always that dread in your stomach that perhaps Jason Todd doesn't love you the way you love him. And perhaps he never will.

"Well, I wish you'd call," you say.

This is wrong. You shouldn't be picking fights. Jason doesn't go dark out of cruelty, only necessity.

Jason sighs. "I can't. 'M sorry."

You cross your arms. It's chilly tonight.

"Do you even want to see me?"

He tilts his head. Dangerous.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't want to intrude," you say. "You're busy and all the stuff with B, I don't—I mean, I wouldn't hold it against you if you—"

Jason takes two long strides and closes the distance. You swallow the rest of your sentence as he backs you up against the brick exterior of an abandoned apartment. Your heart picks up. You're not afraid; the fear went long ago. You're just... something. You're something about Jason.

The last time you two hugged was after Willis' death. You'd wanted to wrap him in his cape, thought maybe that would make everything feel as small as he'd been.

Now, a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier, Jason clearly does not need a cape. Right?

He takes off his helmet, lets it hang on his hand. His other hand is by your head. You lean back, let your neck go on display. Jason doesn't miss the movement.

"What're you doing, Jay?" you ask levelly.

Maybe he thinks you don't notice this distance but you do. You don't want to push him to talk about it, because as upsetting as it is, you're still strangers to each other.

You are and you're not. He died and he didn't. You grieved and you didn't. You burn and... you burn.

But you're tired of being and not being. You won't let him keep you in emotional purgatory. If he's done with you, he should just say so.

"If you don't want to meet anymore," you start, and let the words hang in the air.

"I—" he starts, then swallows. He tosses his helmet to the side. He doesn't touch you, just hovers inches away. Jason smells like lilac and gun smoke.

"I don't think you understand... my devotion," he says, voice low. "How much power you have over me."

Your eyes widen. "Wh—"

His green eyes reflect the streetlight like a cat's. The sight stops you short. Jason Todd is hot metal on a knife's edge, and it would do you well to remember that.

His hands curl into fists. He shakes his head.

"Sorry," he whispers like a prayer. "Not tryna scare you." His chest rises and falls rapidly. "'M I scarin' ya, sweetheart? Tell me and I'll go home, shake it off. Wait forever. I can be good. Won't want what I don't deserve."

"I'm not scared," you say, and it's the most sure you've ever been. "Not scared of you, Jay."

He breathes a laugh, like he can't quite believe you. His breath is warm on your neck.

"You'd be the first," he says. "The only one."

This, you believe. This, you have wondered some nights, knowing that even Batman isn't sure what to do with a son who lives with death on his shoulder.

"You don't have to devote yourself to me," you say, because that makes you pause. Who are you to be his god?

Jason laughs again, strong and sure. He sinks to his knees in front of you. His white streak glows in the light.

"You think it's a vice?" he asks. He rests a hand on your left thigh, testing. You lay your hand over his, so he holds your other thigh too.

He hums. "You do. You think you're holdin' me hostage."

Jason takes a shuddering breath and flattens his palms over your legs. Then he leans in and rests his cheek on your leg, nose near the apex of your thighs. Your belly flips.

"Let's make one thing clear. My devotion is my only redemption. 'S the only thing that makes me believe I'm not all rotted inside. Makes me behave. In this world and the next, I'm yours."

"I... Jason, you belong to yourself, not me. I don't—"

"You don't have to do anything. If it's too much, then I'll disappear. You can carry on."

You stroke the exposed side of his face. He looks up at you.

He is still. You have made him still.

"I'm yours too," you say.

He shakes his head. "You don't hafta—"

"Do you think being yours is a curse?" you ask, gaze sharp.

"Don't promise something for balance's sake," he rasps. "I'll be yours without you being mine."

Your heart is still. He has made it still.

"I'll keep coming back," Jason whispers, eyes wide. "If you're mine, I can't leave. Y'don't know what you're doing. Don't give yourself to me."

"I do. I'm yours."

His grip tightens around your legs. Jason shakes his head.

"Don't do it," he says into your thigh. "I shouldn't have anyone. I'm-I'm only meant to be yours. Nobody's mine."

But you know. You can slide your finger along his teeth and he'll wait with his mouth open. You can touch his edges and he'll turn his cheek so you won't nick your finger. He would sooner chew his own tongue.

"It's alright," you say, and kneel. You dirty your knees right alongside him. "It's okay, Jason. I know what I'm doing."

His breath hitches. Jason presses you into the brick, tucks his face into your neck. His arms wrap tightly around your waist.

"Sorry," he whispers frantically. "'M sorry. You can push me away. Sorry."

"I won't do that." You hold him and let him take you. "I know you're good. I thought—I thought you were pulling away, and I..."

"I was," he admits, muffled in your skin. "'M sorry. Was the only way I could think of to let you go. You deserve better. Couldn't think 'round you, honeylove. Knew it was a death sentence when I found out that you still lived in Gotham."

"It wasn't," you say. "Best thing that's ever happened to me."

Jason huffs. "You say that now, but..."

"No. I say it now and I'll say it again. Keep me, Jason. I'll keep you too."

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

UPDATE What's up, it's the proposal guy. You said you wanted to know how this turned out, so I figured I'd tell you. First some context though, because I'm mean and I wanna keep you in suspense longer.

1- I don't wanna doxx us so I'm not telling you where we live, but suffice to say, neither of us are American, and gay marriage has been legal here for less than five years. For both of us, this is the first relationship we've had where marriage was even an OPTION, and I think that's where we've been getting some of that whole 'this has to be a REAL proposal with EVERYTHING' idea.

2- I gotta figure out how to explain this properly. So, I'm pretty used to being the GUY guy in relationships? I was always the one who did the nice gestures, not the one they got done for. Before I met my dream guy, I didn't really notice or care that it was such a thing, I just assumed that's how shit worked. Also, I promised I wouldn't talk a lot about his stuff here, but his last boyfriend before me SUCKED. Anyway point here is, it turns out we both REALLY like feeling swept off our feet sometimes, and a big part of finding each other has been getting to feel special for once? That's a stupid sappy way of putting it the point here is I think all that's what morphed into "I need to be the one getting proposed to, also it has to be completely perfect", and then our Petty & Extra genes got involved.

So I'm sitting in bed thinking about all that up there, and watching all the comments coming in basically being like "Dude, you are BLOWING this" on repeat, and telling me to compromise, and I look up and see him flossing in the bathroom and making all these doofy faces at the mirror, and it's like a switch just flips in my brain, and I'm like "Oh, I'd rather he gets to have his perfect proposal than we both have an okay one". I'm gonna do it.

Morning rolls around, and while I'm 'out for my jog like normal' I hit up a pawn shop for a temp ring (the ring pop thing is cute but NOT HIM). I found one I was at least confident wouldn't get ruined the first time he got his hands greasy (he fixes old machines as a hobby it's hot as hell), got back home, and hid the box in the toe of my nasty ass workout shoes in the bedroom closet, since I figured he'd check there last.

He was still asleep, because he stays up late no matter what and then is SHOCKED he's tired the next day, so I called and booked a table at our usual anniversary spot. (Side note about the 'he picks bad restaurants' thing. This isn't an 'I like Greek, you like Chinese' situation, dude's just BAD at finding places. He either assumes pricey is tasty and I get to eat some overrated gourmet bullshit, or he'll try and find something hip and underground and risk giving us food poisoning again, and he REFUSES to give up and pick somewhere we've been before when it's his turn to plan date night. I'm obsessed with him <3.) Date was set, I'd propose on the 21st.

Some of you might have noticed this, but fun fact! It's currently the 16th.

Last night I'm doing dishes and he's been sent to our room for mug collection duty, and he's taking FOREVER, so I go check just in case he found the ring, because the man's a gift tracking BLOODHOUND. Turns out he hasn't, he's found my Angry Box.

I assume other people have an Angry Box? Basically, we had this huge messy fight right when we first moved in together, and I never wanna let it get that bad again, so I have this shoebox where I keep a bunch of our stuff I can look at if we're fighting and hopefully cool off. There's one of those photo booth roll things, letters we wrote when he moved back with his parents for COVID, the wine cork from our first date, shit like that. Anyway, he's just sitting on the floor staring at it, and I explain about the Angry Box, and then he! Proposes!!! Kind of.

He definitely didn't have anything prepared, because by 'propose' I mean 'ugly cried & rambled at me for several minutes before I figured out it WAS a proposal', but once I got on the same page it was amazing. I said yes, and he had to admit he didn't have a ring for me because he was CONVINCED he'd win and I'd do it, so I grabbed mine because, yeah, he was right. He was like "this is the ugliest ring I've ever seen" and I was like yeah well the plan is to replace it later and he went "No. You can pry this off my cold dead fingers. After I'm buried with it." So I guess it's not a temporary ring anymore.

I'm just gonna go ahead and skip to this morning. I pointed out we still have the reservation, and he said I should propose there anyway because "We can get a free dessert. They have those creme brulee shot glasses you like. And for love, or something" and I said ok deal, but that means you gotta get me a ring to keep it fair, and his eyes LIT UP. When I swung by his work for lunch he was still on the phone with a jeweler and he had a whole page of notes on three other ones. Pray for me.

OH PS: I was RIGHT that he'd been the one behind the cat biting me, but it wasn't about the proposal stuff, it's because I paid my baby sister three dollars to shout 'fuck you' every single time he enters a room she's in for (if you ask me, he should be madder at my sister for charging so little), and he did it by giving her a bunch of treats for biting his hands too, so now neither of us can pet our baby girl without oven mitts on. HOLY SHIT I love this man.

Oh my goddddddd I love everything about this <333 I awwww'd out loud on a voice call, like, six times while reading. You two are friggin perfect for each other and so obviously smitten with each other and I wish y'all all the happiness in the world

PS Are y'all planning to have a big wedding? If so oh boy I can't WAIT to get that one in the inbox

Original post

[cringe-but-proud]

Can I request headcanons for Kurt, Remy, Logan, and Wade finding out that his gn s/o has never dated anyone else before him please?

X-Men requests YAYYYYY YAY YAY YAY YAY!!!!!!!! 🤸🏃🤸🏃🤸🏃🤸🏃🤸🏃

Wade, Logan, Remy, and Kurt with a s/o who hasn’t dated anyone other than them!! <3

Warnings!: cursing ig, reader is referred to as pretty (I consider that gender neutral, but wanted to put it here just in case), and that’s it!

A/n: Want them all ngl 😞 If it wasn’t already clear, I’m delighted to have my first X-Men request. And I also really like this prompt (definitely not because I can relate to it. Haha, shut up). Also, requests: OPEN 💜

Wade:

He straight up thinks you’re lying when you first tell him. He even laughs because he’s convinced you’re just messing with him.

But, then he realizes you’re not laughing and he’s like “Oh, shit. Really?”

He’ll apologize for laughing and probably say some shit like “Sorry, I just didn’t realize a smoke show like you was capable of being single”

And he means it. He was fully under the impression that you’d been on more than a few dates because you’re HOT

Definitely teases you about it. “Is that why your hands were so sweaty on our first date?”

Don’t be afraid to (playfully) smack him.

Despite all of the teasing, he makes sure to let you know that it doesn’t bother him. In fact, he thinks it’s cute

He’ll say that you’re “new to dating” even if the two of you have been dating for years

Starts calling you a rookie. And he ends up saying it so much that it just becomes one of the many pet names he has for you

And, yeah. When you’re not around he’s probably giggling and kicking his feet over how he’s your first boyfriend 🤭

Logan:

When you first tell him, he just looks at you for a second, not saying anything before going “You’re serious?”

“And you decided I’d be a good first pick?” He says it like he’s teasing, but, in reality, it does confuse him a bit.

Like, wouldn’t you want someone sweet and kind for your first relationship? Not a grumpy, old guy with knife hands???

Nonetheless, he’s grateful (and even honored) to be given the title of your first boyfriend

He doesn’t make a huge deal out of it. He’ll occasionally bring it up, maybe ask a question or two about it. But, it doesn’t really change anything about your relationship.

Or, at least, that’s what you think for a while.

One night, he returns from a long mission and he crawls into bed next to you, and you think he’s just gonna immediately go to sleep like he does every time he comes back from a mission. But, then he mumbles something.

“I wish I’d had someone like you as my first.”

And before you can even process it, he’s asleep.

You ask him about it in the morning and he says he doesn’t remember saying it. You can decide whether or not you think he’s lying.

Remy:

You tell him that you want to tell him something, and he can tell you’re nervous about it.

“What’s got you so nervous, chère? You know Gambit don’t judge nobody. ‘Specially not you.”

And you confess to him that you’ve never dated anyone and he’s like. “Oh. That’s it?”

He doesn’t mean to sound apathetic. He was just expecting something bad.

He asks you to clarify what you mean by “not dating anyone before him” because he thinks he somehow misunderstood you

“You telling me no one ever tried to get with a pretty thing like you?” And then he smirks. “Or were you just ignorin’ all of ‘em till Gambit came round?”

He also teases you about it from time to time. Makes little comments about how he’s your first.

But, it’s just because he loves it.

He often thinks about how he’s the only guy who’s gotten to take you on dates and do all this romantic stuff with you

“Don’t no one else know what they missing out on….”

Kurt:

He doesn’t even try to hide his surprise. He can’t.

“I’m really your first? But, how? You are so beautiful!” He’s just upfront with why he thinks it’s absurd.

He needs to hear it a few more times before he finally accepts it. And that’s when he starts getting giddy.

“I am your first lover?” He grins. “I like that, I think.”

And now everyone has to know. Sorry.

He will gladly go around and tell people that he’s your “first love” (as he likes to say). Is it usually embarrassing for you? Yes. But, it’s Kurt. So, it’s okay.

So, yeah. You definitely don’t have to worry about whether or not he minds it.

Of course, now he has to ask a bunch of questions about it too.

“So, was the first date you’ve ever had with me?” If you say yes, he smiles before asking. “Was it good?” Like he doesn’t already know the answer.

He’s just over the moon that he was the first person that you really fell in love with. And he wants you and everyone around you to know how happy he is with you.

[writingouthere]

neighbor!Sukuna x single mom!reader; your ceiling is leaking at 3 in the morning and you don't know what to do so you go ask for help from the man across the hallway(inspired by real life events that were not nearly so charming).

no need to have read the others in the series but can be read as a week or two after the aquarium date.

cw: Sukuna being a menace

Sukuna had always been a light sleeper so when there were knocks on his door at 3am, he was up instantly. The knocks weren't even loud but he found himself annoyed enough to stomp to the door. If he wasn't sleeping, the people below him didn't need to be either.

He yanked his door open, prepared to make whoever it was regret every moment of their existence but it was you, holding your daughter and clearly on the verge of tears.

You seemed contrite when you saw his expression but before you could even start to apologize, he was slipping on his boots and grabbing his key.

"What's wrong," he asked.

"It-it's the ceiling, I woke up and it was leaking water. It's getting everywhere and I don't know what to do and the landlord isn't picking up."

Sukuna rubbed your arm, trying to give you some comfort and you relaxed a little.

"Okay, let me come take a look. I can call the super, he's probably more likely to answer than the landlord." You nodded and he followed you back to your place. Holding his hand out to stop you at the door as he made to go in first.

Sukuna heard the water pouring in before he saw it. He had never been in your apartment before. It was clear that a woman there. There was color everywhere, more blankets than made sense for two people and the walls were covered in photos and artwork. It felt soft, it reminded him of you. And now, it was being ruined by water raining down from the ceiling.

"Why don't you wait in my apartment. You both look like you could use some rest. I'll sort this out," he said, handing over his key. You looked ready to protest but then your daughter started crying.

"Go, I got it."

You looked so relieved and he wiped away a few tears from your daughter's face and pressed a kiss to her forehead which helped bring the tears down to a more tolerable snuffling.

"Thank you so much, I don't even-"

"Don't worry about it. You two just go settle in the guest room and I'll wake you up when it's settled."

You smiled at him and you seemed to hesitate before you went up on your toes to give him a quick peck on the cheek.

Sukuna couldn't stop himself from grinning as you took your daughter out the door and towards his apartment. He turned around to look at the mess that was your apartment. It looked like a pipe must have burst in the apartment above yours. Annoying, but a quick fix when caught this early. He grabbed his phone, opening it to call the super before a thought came to him that just wouldn't leave.

It would be a shame if you had to terminate your lease because of unsafe conditions, after all you must still have a good six months left on it. He knew you didn't have any family in the area and it would be a lot for a working mom with a kid as young as yours to go apartment hunting all the sudden.

Of course, he did have that guest room. Plenty of space for the three of you and it wouldn't be hard to bring over the stuff you needed while you looked. His apartment was bigger than yours, even though it was just him.

Even if it was a tight fit, his lease was up at the end of the year anyway. You could always get a bigger space, one for your soon to be growing family.

Sukuna pocketed his phone and took a seat at your dining table, away from the water. He figured it would only take another hour before the damage passed the point of no return.

He hoped you and your daughter were resting well in your new home.