#there doesn’t need to be anything other than that going on

[purple-plum-petals]

Hi!! I love your homicipher fics! Have you thought about writing nsfw hcs? Specifically for Mr. Crawling and Silvair? I hope your night / day is going well! :)

⊱ Mr. Crawling and Mr. Silvair ⊰ || NSFW Alphabet (A-Z) Headcanons

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮

Character(s): Mr. Crawling, Mr. Silvair (Homicipher/文字化化, Separate) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns, No Sex-Specific Genitalia is Mentioned but it was Written with an AFAB Reader in Mind) Warning(s): 18+ Content, Virgin Asexual Author, Cum Eating, Facials, Minor Objectification, Cuckoldry, Mutual Masturbation, Face-fucking, Sexual Fantasies, Tickling, Praise/Degradation Kink, Breeding Kink/Creampies, BDSM, Overstimulation, Orgasm Control/Denial, Dumbification, Dacryphilia, Hair-pulling, Light Impact Play, Light Breathplay, Implied Cunnilingus/Blowjobs, Cock Warming, Mention/Discussion of Sex Toys… If I missed anything, please let me know! Genre: Headcanons, Smut (Minors Do Not Interact), Fluff Word Count: 7,200 words Request: “Hi!! I love your homicipher fics! Have you thought about writing nsfw hcs? Specifically for Mr. Crawling and Silvair? I hope your night / day is going well! :)” Author’s Note: I’m still very much working on getting better at writing spicier content, and I had no clue how to start writing these kinds of headcanons from scratch, so I went ahead and just filled out the NSFW Alphabet for both Mr. Crawling and Mr. Silvair as a jumping off point! It’s definitely interesting to think about how both of these characters would be in a sexually intimate setting, especially since – at least in my mind – they’d be quite different from each other in a variety of aspects even if they did have some overlap on a few of the points. I did my best to keep each of their headcanons at a similar word length (which was kind of hard to do with my Mr. Crawling bias, but I think I accomplished it haha). Anyway, I hope you enjoy these headcanons! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated!  ♡

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

A: Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

👣: Mr. Crawling is immensely clingy after having sex, holding onto you and pretty much refusing to let go as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck or your hair. While he doesn’t want to get up from the bed or leave after the two of you have been intimate, if you’re hungry or thirsty or if you want to go take a bath, he’s happy to go fetch you something to restore your energy or help you to the bathroom to clean up. He’s quite good at aftercare, even if he doesn’t realize what he’s doing counts as it. Mr. Crawling just likes making you feel good, and he wants to keep you safe and happy! His favorite thing to do is help you bathe; he enjoys the way the warm water feels on his skin while he washes your back for you. 

💉: Mr. Silvair isn’t too affectionate after the two of you are intimate, but he’ll check up on you and ask if you need him to get you anything. If your wrists were rubbed raw from the restraints he had placed on you, he would make sure to carefully wrap gauze around your irritated skin. If you were thirsty or hungry, he would locate something safe for you to consume to get your strength back up. If you feel sticky or gross afterward, he’ll carefully wipe your body with a wet cloth to make sure you are clean and comfortable. He lets you sleep and typically goes about his own business. Sometimes, though, Mr. Silvair finds himself watching over you to make sure you’re breathing steadily, carefully combing his fingers through your hair. 

B: Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

👣: Mr. Crawling doesn’t have a favorite part of your body since he honestly enjoys every aspect of you but, if he had to choose, he loves your hands. He knows that they can hurt people and cause a lot of pain, but he loves the way they feel when you cup his face to softly caress it or whenever you thread your fingers through his hair. For himself, Mr. Crawling loves his hair the most (I know it’s not technically a body part, but I think it makes the most sense for him); he pretty much melts whenever you play with it, and his head is quite sensitive, so he blue screens whenever you pull at his hair or rake your nails across his scalp. I also feel like Mr. Crawling would be proud of his arms since they’re fairly toned considering they’re his primary means of getting around. Because of his impressive strength, despite what his thinner frame may portray, he’s able to hold you up and move you around with relative ease (he 100% can manhandle you, but only will if you’re cool with it). 

💉: Mr. Silvair finds every aspect of your body fascinating, and he could probably explain why each part of you was interesting from a medical perspective or that everything was pleasant to look at in one way or another. If he had to pick a favorite part of your body, though, he would have to say it’s your head (I know, kind of weird, but he does appreciate your intelligence and, well… Ending 06 is my other piece of reasoning haha). Specifically, though, he likes your mouth. He enjoys being able to hold your head in place while your jaw hangs open, all while he just goes to town while you drool and choke around his cock. Don’t worry, though – he’ll find some remedy to lessen the soreness you feel in your throat afterward. For himself, he’s quite proud of his hands. Mr. Silvair is skilled at many things, and being able to make you come undone with his fingers alone makes him feel a sense of power (plus, you called them pretty once, and it made him feel good). 

C: Cum (Anything to do with cum)

👣: Mr. Crawling gets extremely flustered whenever he sees his cum on any part of your body, from your hair to your face to your stomach. The sight of it alone on your skin makes his brain short-circuit and body flare up – it only makes him want to touch you even more. He likes being able to clean you up, too, leaning forward before he runs his tongue along your body or face, making sure there wasn’t a single drop of his cum left on you (even if now it meant you were covered in saliva…). He doesn’t mind tasting himself, but it most certainly doesn’t compare to your flavor. 

💉: I probably need to ask you to stay with me on this one, but I think Mr. Silvair would probably keep your cum stored away in a sample tube or something along those lines, having a desire to run tests on it to see what he could create. Views your cum as a valuable resource in his research...yay? Maybe he could even use your release to invent some kind of lubricant since that’s not easily accessible in the other world and make having sex much more streamlined… or he just keeps it around to show you later and see your reaction to the fact he keeps your cum stored away in his laboratory to tease you. 

D: Dirty Secret

👣: The thought of taking you in public, in a space where no one but you could see him, makes his mind race and his body feel like it was on fire – this man can act like a feral dog sometimes. I mean, even you sometimes forgot he was there, unable to see his form unless you concentrated hard enough, so imagine if the two of you went out somewhere in public and he (with your consent, of course), just started touching you? Groping your ass, his face between your legs as he runs his hands along your inner thighs… no one can see that it’s him making your face flush and not the excuse of a fever you told the concerned stranger in the hopes they would leave you alone. When you half-heartedly glare at him to try and get him to lay off for a bit, he just laughs at your expression… how rude!

💉: Mr. Silvar wouldn’t be opposed to having a threesome with another resident of the other world. After all, he would be curious to see how differently you acted when another person was there with the two of you, or if your body reacted in an unlikely way if another were to touch you. While I will not write NSFW for Mr. Chopped (the power dynamic there isn’t my favorite thing in the world), he would be the one Mr. Silvair would feel most at ease sharing you with; Mr. Crawling or Mr. Hood would be his second and third choices respectively since he knows how deeply you trust them. He might not even partake in sex either, just sitting off to the side while he lets another use you like a toy. As long as you know your his, though, he doesn’t mind watching you enjoy yourself with another (he has to be there, though). 

E: Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

👣: Mr. Crawling has absolutely zero experience with this kind of stuff, so he would need someone willing to walk him through the whole process, show him what you like, and teach him what and what not to do. What he lacks in experience, though, he makes up for in pure enthusiasm. It’s quite flattering how determined he is when it comes to making you feel good, even if it’s a bit sloppy and unpracticed. His thrusts are extremely unpredictable, never quite finding their rhythm… It’s alright, though; he’ll definitely get better with more time and the more he gets to understand what your body likes. You just have to give him the time to improve, and he’ll be certain to leave you breathless. 

💉: Mr. Silvair also has no experience when it comes to sex, or at least not any while he’s resided in the other world. He is a life-long learner through and through, though, and there’s nothing in the universe he’s not willing to learn about, especially if it has to do with humans and their anatomy. His thrusts are frighteningly accurate, being able to hit your most sensitive inner spots with ease to have you begging him to give you a moment to breathe. He’s an almost terrifyingly fast learner, too, being able to apply whatever new information he’s observed and gathered within moments. He can do it perfectly, too, and he does it in a way that has you questioning whether he was telling the truth when he said this was his first time doing anything like this. 

F: Favorite Position

👣: When it comes to favorite positions, Mr. Crawling loves being able to hold you close to him while also being able to see your face (he has to kiss you during sex – sorry, I don’t make the rules). He enjoys the rocking horse position since it allows him to be able to hold you close while still being able to maintain eye contact with you and easily have access to cover your face in kisses. While he prefers being the one making you feel good, Mr. Crawling would also enjoy the cowgirl position. He’s happy to let you use him to your heart's content while being able to look up and soak in the pleased look that’s plastered across your features while you slam your hips up and down on his cock. 

💉: Mr. Silvair personally enjoys the butterfly position, having you lay on your back atop his operation table all while he can watch and take mental notes on every single facial expression you make and every single twitch of your muscles while he drives you absolutely insane. He would also enjoy missionary, but he would spice it up a little bit by having your hands or wrists tied to something. After all, he doesn’t want you to touch him unless he says you can – just lay there quietly while he completely wrecks you with that annoyingly calm expression on his face. It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy when you touch him, though. Mr. Silvair simply prefers being the one in charge and determining when and where you’re able to feel his skin beneath your hands. 

G: Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)  

👣: Acts goofy most of the time during sex, even if he doesn’t mean to. He likes being able to make you happy, and he finds your laughter to be music to his ears. Sometimes you two will be having sex, and he’ll suddenly start giggling completely unprovoked, just finding the experience with you so joyful. Being with you in any capacity makes his chest feel light and fluttery as a sense of giddiness flows through his veins. He’ll wrap his arms around you and nuzzle into your neck, causing your body to spasm and tighten around him while his long hair drapes over you and tickles your skin. Overall, Mr. Crawling enjoys being more playful when the two of you are intimate since it adds to the overall experience for him. 

💉: Prefers to be serious while having sex. He treats the whole process of intercourse like one would treat a research project which, honestly, can make you feel a bit annoyed in some instances (Mr. Silvair still doesn’t quite understand why, though). He’s methodical in everything he does, and being light-hearted or purposefully humorous isn’t high on his list of things to do. He has no problem if you want to be silly, however. He finds it cute when you try to see if you can make him chuckle. It endears you to him more, and it makes him want to keep you around for even longer. The only goofy thing he does is gently run his fingers up and down your sides while thrusting into you, finding the way your body wriggles and writhes away from his touch to be adorable. 

H: Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

👣: I think Mr. Crawling would have fairly long hair beneath the metaphorical belt. His pubic hair would be thick, curly, and a very dark shade of black. He doesn’t really keep himself groomed (kind of hard to do in his world, plus it was never a priority for him), but if you would prefer him to keep it trimmed, he’d be happy to! He doesn’t care one way or another. 

💉: Mr. Silvair comes off to me as someone who would enjoy keeping themselves groomed and their appearance well-maintained, and I mean every inch of his body. I think he would have either no pubic hair or pubic hair that was trimmed to be the perfect length. If he did have any hair below the belt, it would be a gray color, one that was a shade darker than his regular hair and wavy in texture. 

I: Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

👣: One of the more human-like members of the cast when it comes to his affections; he’s as romantic as a non-human being can be. Mr. Crawling loves holding you close as he ruts into you like a wild dog, whispering praises against your skin. He even tries his best to learn phrases in your language so he can tell you how much you mean to him without you having to try and decipher it. He’s always so, so soft with you when you two are having sex. He’s honored that you’d let him have you in such a way, and finds your trust in him heartwarming – he trusts you, too, with his entire heart and soul. 

💉: Mr. Silvair canonically doesn’t comprehend the concept of “liking” or loving someone, so that also translates into sex with him. All he knows is that he finds you entertaining to be around and that he’s somewhat endeared to you at this point. He’s not romantic but, in between teasing you and making you cry (whether it be in frustration or overstimulation), he’s checking in on you to make sure that you’re still comfortable. He knows sex can be invasive, and he’s aware of how much regard the act is held in by some people in your world, so he does his best to respect that... Even if he does need to check himself every now and again. 

J: Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

👣 and 💉: Neither of them masturbates much because they simply don’t have a desire or time to do so. Mr. Crawling would rather wait for you to be there so you two can enjoy yourselves together, and Mr. Silvair simply has more important matters to attend to. That’s not to say they never masturbate, though, it’s just typically a rare occurrence. 

👣: Mr. Crawling typically masturbates by rutting up against something, like a pillow, rather than taking himself in his hand. His thoughts before meeting you were just focusing on the physical sensation of his cock sliding against the fabric of his clothing, but now he finds himself thinking of you – the way your voice sounds when you coo sweet words in his ear, the warmth of your body. Imagining your hands gently touching his chest and hips makes him cum right then and there, almost embarrassingly quickly… Yeah, he’s down bad. 

💉: Mr. Silvair treats masturbating as a chore. He’d much rather be doing something else than leaning against the wall of his operation room while his hand goes absolutely ham on his dick. He knows which areas on his body get the most reaction, so he purposefully presses all of his buttons just so he can be done with it quicker. This doesn’t change after meeting and getting to be intimate with you, though, he still sees it as a chore… Just now he imagines cumming on your face or inside you whenever he finally reaches his climax. 

K: Kink (one or more of their kinks)

👣: 

Mutual Masturbation: He likes spending time with you and doing things together, so why not spend some time watching each other explore yourselves? He likes observing you as you touch yourself, making mental notes of every spot on your body that have you biting your lip and furrowing your brows. While I wouldn’t say he’s into voyeurism since he does like being with you while you touch yourself instead of tucked away in the shadows just watching, he focuses more on the way your hands touch and caress your skin instead of focusing on the way he moves his hands across his body. Doesn’t last very long doing this, though, eventually pouncing on you and touching you himself.

Overstimulation (Giving): Mr. Crawling loves overstimulating you, even if he doesn’t realize he’s doing it half of the time. He just enjoys seeing you become a blabbering mess all because of him; he takes great pride in being able to make you feel good. However, the first time you started crying because he was simply giving you too much, he felt so guilty – the poor man was on the verge of tears thinking he made you feel bad. 

Praise Kink: While praising you is a bit more difficult considering the language barrier and the limited amount of words and phrases he has to choose from, he still loves doing it. Muttering against your skin how you’re doing such a good job, how he loves you so much, how you make him so happy. Mr. Crawling definitely makes sure to reassure you both inside and outside of the bedroom. 

Hair Pulling (Receiving): He loves, loves, loves it whenever you take his hair in your hand and give it a firm tug. Mr. Crawling enjoys it whenever he’s going down on you and you take his hair into your hands and push him even closer, making him become fully immersed in your scent and taste. 

Sensation Play: While Mr. Crawling may not enjoy more painful experiences, he does like general sensation play quite a bit. He likes the feeling of your breath fanning against his skin while you pepper his flesh with gentle kisses and nips. He enjoys tickling you while his hips sensually thrust in and out, feeling the way you squeeze around him as breathless and airy giggles escape past your lips. He loves whispering into your ear while running his tongue along it before taking your lobe between his teeth and lightly tugging.  

💉: 

Breeding Kink/Creampie: Mr. Silvair, after learning more about human reproduction, has a deep-seated curiosity regarding whether or not the two of you would be able to have offspring. That’s kind of what starts this particular kink for him – he wants to know if you both are sexually compatible in that aspect, and he is curious what the resulting child would look and act like if they were born in the other world. If you’re unable to give birth or get pregnant, even if his initial interest in breeding is certainly from a more scientific aspect, he still finds the image of you full of his seed while it drips down the curve of your ass to be quite arousing. 

Bondage/Shibari (Giving): He enjoys tying you up and pinning you down, being able to have full control over you in the bedroom. He’s perfectly content if you agree to light bondage, like having your hands restrained, and would never ask you to do anything more than that. However, if you trust him enough and feel comfortable doing some more intense bondage, he’s not going to complain. Would definitely be interested in the art of shibari, finding the way the rope looks pressing into your skin tantalizing. 

Orgasm Control/Denial (Giving): Another kink that feeds into his desire for control. Mr. Silvair enjoys being the one in charge of your release, and he likes seeing how far he can push you until you finally break and plead for him to let you cum. He loves seeing how stupid and desperate he can make you, sometimes with just his fingers alone. 

Overstimulation (Giving): Much like orgasm control/denial, he likes pushing you to your breaking point. However, unlike the previous bullet, he likes seeing how much stimulation you can take until you’re crying for him to stop. He thinks it’s fascinating, seeing how quickly your desire for his touch can change – one moment you’re begging for him to touch you, and the next you’re weakly pushing his hand away. He does eventually relent, of course, but only after letting you cry for a bit. 

Dacryphilia: There’s something about seeing your tear-streaked face that makes it feel like he’s just been hit with an arrow in his chest. It’s endearing and oh-so cute the way you look while you sob all because he’s making you feel that good. It makes him feel proud, in a way, seeing you in such a pathetic state all because of him. 

L: Location (Favorite places to do the do)

👣: He enjoys having sex with you on a bed (boring, I know), but he likes the softness of the mattress and the many pillows and blankets that can be used to bring even more comfort by keeping the heat from your bodies trapped. He also likes taking you in small, enclosed spaces, like an empty locker or cabinet (sorry folks with claustrophobia). Much like the reasoning with the bed, he likes how the smaller space forces you both to be immensely close to each other. Plus, these spaces bring him comfort, so why not mix the two things that make him feel safe together? 

💉: Either in his laboratory/operation room or in one of the many different cages or prison cells that he has access to (bonus points if you allow him to chain you up hehe). Mr. Silvair doesn’t need a soft mattress or pillows to enjoy sex with you. He’s fine taking you on his operation table or the cold concrete floor of the small prison cell, even if your back moving up and down across the ground rubs your skin raw. He’ll patch you up after, no worries, but he doesn’t need a lot of bells and whistles to have an enjoyable time. 

M: Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

👣: Sweet words and gentle touches. The other world is one full of violence and death, one where survival trumps all else. While there are entities like him who only resort to violence when either their safety or the safety of someone they’re fond of is in danger, it’s still not a happy or bright place to exist. Mr. Crawling does what he can to enjoy life, laughing in situations that probably aren’t even that funny just to try and make existing more enjoyable. Then you come along and make him feel cared for – loved – and safe, and he’s never been happier. Being able to lay with you, to feel you clench around his cock with your warmth while you pepper kisses across his face and let him know how good he is… Yeah, this is the life. 

💉: Power and control. He enjoys being able to restrict your movement, being able to dictate when and where you’re allowed to cum and, if you disobey him, he’ll punish you with a sadistic smile on his face. However, he would be lying if he said that was all. Mr. Silvair thinks the fact you trust him with your safety – your life, your heart, your existence – gets him going, whether he realizes it or not. Trusting another in the other world showcases how much two people believe in the fact the other would not do anything to purposefully harm them, and you feel that way toward him (and he feels the same toward you). Whenever you call out his “name,” the one you had given him, he finds his hips unconsciously moving even faster at the sound...

N: No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

👣: Anything involving pain would be a hard no for Mr. Crawling, both giving and receiving. Even though his senses are dull and what would be extremely painful for a human wouldn’t be for him, he still doesn’t particularly enjoy being harmed. When it comes to hurting you in any way, that’s pretty much something he will never concede on. He doesn’t want to do a single thing to hurt you, even if it’s an enjoyable kind of pain. 

💉: Pretty much nothing is off the table for him – Mr. Silvair enjoys experimenting, and that’s no different for him in the bedroom. The only extremely hard no would be coprophilia since he just doesn’t see the appeal nor does he want to test to see if he would like it or not. I also feel like he wouldn’t necessarily want a bratty partner or a partner who is constantly trying to take control back in the bedroom. 

O: Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

👣: Loves giving oral 101%, and he will give it to you anywhere – in public, in private, while you’re sleeping (with your consent, of course). Mr. Crawling adores having his mouth on you, being able to taste every single part of you while his tongue forces its way inside you, feeling your release dripping past his lips or dribbling down his chin… You taste good, too, better than anything he’s ever had before; he might get addicted to it, to be honest. He eats you out/blows you like a man starving, wanting a chance to have a taste and make you cry out his name while you pull harshly on his black locks and encourage him to keep going. He’s very enthusiastic about it, too, putting in so much effort and energy to get you cumming on his face or in his mouth. 

💉: Prefers giving oral over receiving it, but it’s not his favorite thing to do either way. It’s nothing personal, he just prefers using his hands, his cock, or a toy to get you off rather than his mouth. If he does allow you to give him a blowjob, he’ll place a collar around your neck and pull on the chain if you get cheeky – after all, he’s the one in charge here. Mr. Silvair enjoys making you kneel in front of him, watching you with a small smile as you take him into your hands and pump once or twice before taking him into your mouth. If the rare occurrence happens when he gives you head, you better thank the universe. He looks so hot, holding your thighs apart while he slowly runs his tongue along your length/slit and teases you until you’re asking him to touch you more. 

P: Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)  

👣: Enjoys the slower and sensual side of things, but he typically can’t control himself as soon as he’s inside of you, so he ends up being somewhat fast and rough (not all the time, though... his thrusts remain immensely unpredictable no matter what, and he never seems to find a good rhythm to follow). Mr. Crawling enjoys the intimacy of sex, and he finds comfort in the closeness of your bodies while you two are connected at the hips. He loves being able to hold your hands and place kisses across your cheeks. Sometimes, he’s so caught up in the act of showering you with words of praise and sweet displays of affection that he forgets the fact he’s currently inside you and is supposed to be moving. He does see the appeal of rougher sex, though – it makes him feel almost animalistic whenever you two decide to set the pace for the night. 

💉: Mr. Silvair can quickly switch between the two, sometimes almost at a break-neck speed, to the point it feels like you got whiplash from the sudden change of deep and slow thrusts to fast and somehow even deeper ones (he’s very precise when it comes to hitting those sweet spots inside of you – it’s actually kind of terrifying how quickly he can locate them). He pretty much does whatever he thinks will get the most reaction out of your body and acts accordingly – nothing more, nothing less. He tends to prefer rougher and faster sex, enjoying the noises the quick snap of his hips can draw out of your mouth. However, sometimes, he finds himself preferring a slower and softer pace. This way, he’s able to focus on and truly soak in the expression on your face and appreciate the way your body feels under his palms (this sometimes just leads to you cock warming him). 

Q: Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)  

👣: Mr. Crawling is down for anything at any time. Pretty much, if you ask him to have sex, he’ll happily do it for you. Need him to eat you out or give you a blowjob, he’ll gladly oblige! After all, he is always pretty much kneeling, so he’s not being made to go out of his way to do it (even if he would go out of his way to please you). Want something more than just his tongue? That’s perfectly fine, too! There’s a private room over there he’ll gladly take you in, or maybe you’d want to try doing it in the empty locker? He’ll try not to take too long, but it’s hard since he loves being able to enjoy you to the fullest. So, Mr. Crawling can do quickies for sure, but he likes being able to take his time with you.  

💉: While he’s not opposed to quickies, he prefers being able to have proper sex with you to get the most out of it. After all, he can’t exactly see how long it takes for you to break or how much time it takes for you to start crying and babbling if you only have a few minutes to enjoy one another. However, he does make it a little challenge for himself to see how quickly he can get you to climax. Mr. Silvair will even make educated guesses on how fast you’ll finish just by making note of your current expression, body language, etc. He likes seeing how flustered you get if you think someone is going to enter the room the two of you are in, begging him to go faster which only makes him want to slow down – how mean! 

R: Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)  

👣: Mr. Crawling is down to experiment but, as stated before, he doesn’t want to try anything that causes him or you harm, even if pain is something you enjoy. He just has no desire to hurt you in any way, something which is quite different from other members of the cast who are definitely more sadistic (cough, Mr. Silvair and Mr. Machete, cough). I feel like he would be down to partake in certain aspects of BDSM, specifically B/D (bondage and discipline) and D/S (dominance and submission). He just wants to have a good time and be close to you, both physically and emotionally. 

💉: 100% down to experiment with anything (except the previously mentioned coprophilia). If you wanted to try some breathplay or impact play or even blood play, he’d be down for it. I honestly think he would enjoy breathplay since it adds more to the differential in power that he enjoys so much (there’s also a stirring in his chest when he sees how much you trust him with your life, but shhh…). Mr. Silvair is a man hungry for information and new experiences, so yes, he’s willing to try a variety of different things even if they could potentially be dangerous – he’ll always make sure you return to your original form. 

S: Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

👣 and 💉: Both of them are inhuman, which means that neither of them need any food, water, or rest to survive. Honestly, the two of them have unlimited amounts of stamina, and they can go for as long as you need them to (which could be two rounds or even eight – nothing is holding them back in the stamina department). 

T: Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

👣 and 💉: Neither of them owns any toys because, well… you can’t access them easily in the other world. If they do end up there, though, they’re probably dirty or damaged beyond repair (please do not use nasty sex toys, people – infections and diseases are no joke). 

👣: Mr. Crawling would be down to use toys on you! After all, why not? It’ll just make the experience more fun, right? You’ll probably have to explain what he’s supposed to do with them, though, since he’s not quite sure what some of them are for. If you want to use toys on him, he’s completely fine with that! Want to wear a strap and give him backshots? Go right ahead! Want to tape vibrators to him until he’s whining and writhing? He’d be happy to oblige! Overall, he’s pretty chill about it and is somewhat enthusiastic about adding toys into your sex life. 

💉: Mr. Silvair enjoys using sex toys on you, some of his favorites being cock rings/chastity belts, strangely-shaped dildos, and vibrators. He loves being able to secure the variety of different vibrators he owns to your body, making sure to cover every erogenous zone he’s noted. He doesn’t typically want toys used on him (but he’d probably try out a variety of different sex toys on himself after a while, though, curious about how each of them felt or what they did), however, and the only one he’d be willing to use consistently would be fleshlights. He’d make you watch him use it, never once allowing you to use them on him. 

U: Unfair (How much they like to tease)

👣: Mr. Crawling is very fair, and he always makes sure to give you exactly what you want in the bedroom. However, that’s not to say he never teases you, he just doesn’t do it very frequently. Sometimes when he’s going down on you, he’ll pause his minstrations to nip at or kiss the fat of your thighs, keeping your hips held down so you can’t buck up against his mouth. When you start getting antsy, he just giggles at your expression before returning his attention to that oh-so-needy part of you. 

💉: If the word unfair was personified, it would be Mr. Silvair. I’d argue teasing you and making you cry – either because you can’t cum or have cum ten times in a row – are the aspects of sex that he enjoys the most. Edging you is one of his favorite things, though, watching you whine and try to move your hips on your own when he stops moving… bad move, though, because now he’s just going to make you wait even longer for release. 

V: Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

👣: He’s not loud, per se, but he does make quite a variety of different noises whenever the two of you are intimate. He whimpers and whines frequently while you’re having sex – they’re barely audible, high-pitched, and come out sounding as though he’s completely out of breath. Sometimes you wonder if he’s in pain with the noises he makes, but he’s not. He just really enjoys being able to feel you like this as he pants like a dog in heat. 

💉: Completely quiet most of the time. Really, the only noises you’ll probably get out of him are barely audible sighs or the sound of his breathing hitching when he feels you stretch/tighten around him. It’s not that Mr. Silvair doesn’t enjoy having sex with you, he just doesn’t express that feeling verbally. You can tell in the way his hand squeezes the fat of your thigh or the way his hips stutter when he moves in and out that he’s having a good time. 

W: Wild Card (Random headcanon)

👣: Mr. Crawling loves taking showers or baths with you, though he leans more towards baths since it’s less painful on his joints (I headcanon that Mr. Crawling can stand, but walking for extended periods of time is painful for him – ambulatory wheelchair user Mr. Crawling when?). While yes, he can technically sit in the shower, having water spray his face isn’t exactly pleasant… He doesn’t view bathing with you as sexual, he just finds it relaxing as he helps you wash your back or you help him make sure all the soap is out of his hair. His favorite scent would have to be lavender – it’s very calming for him. 

💉: He keeps a journal tucked away full of terms and gestures from your world. Mr. Silvair has a deep desire to understand humans and everything they have to offer, even if he believes it's from a stance of craving knowledge (really, he wants to be able to express his endearment of you in a manner you can understand). He has a page on kissing and different kinds of kisses, a page on gestures of endearment, another on hugging and cuddling… The fact that humans’ bodies release a hormone whenever they simply spend time to bond with another socially, a hormone that turns the dial on their brain for whatever emotion they’re currently experiencing, is fascinating to him. 

X: X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

👣: Mr. Crawling is tall – and I mean extremely tall whenever he stands up (my man has got to at least be seven feet), so I can assume that he’s probably relatively proportionate under the belt. I feel like he would be big, almost concerningly so, clocking in at around 8 inches in length. Even though his size is impressive, his dick doesn’t have much girth to it and is on the thinner side, but it is thicker towards the base compared to the head (not that you can take all of him – you can certainly give it a try, though). It’s on the veinier side, too, with a very distinct and present one on the underside of his cock. 

💉: Much like pretty much the entire cast, Mr. Silvair is also on the taller half of the height spectrum. However, I feel as though he would have a more modest, yet of course still impressive dick size. I imagine him to be 6 ½ inches in length and relatively thick from the base to the head with very little change in girth. Whenever you see his cock, you’re kind of awestruck for a moment because how can a man have such a nice-looking dick?? It doesn’t make sense! There’s barely any hair, there’s no visible veins or bumps, and it’s long and thick enough to drive you wild… Plus, it’s just really nice to look at, honestly. 

Y: Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

👣 and 💉: Okay, so I know others probably will not agree with me here… but I honestly don’t think anyone in the cast has much of a sex drive, let alone a high one. I mean, they’re not human, so their cultural/social norms are different than ours, and I wouldn’t hold them to “typical” human desires on a biological/psychological level either. As I said before, I doubt any of them have been laid because sex just isn’t something the residents in the other world partake in – they’re too busy killing/fighting others, eating humans who find themselves lost in the other world, etc. Is this my asexual and world-building brain working? Probably haha. 

👣: Mr. Crawling really only wants sex whenever you want it, but he’s always enthusiastic and does get aroused whenever you ask if he wants to be intimate. While he does love feeling the warmth around his dick whenever you’re clamping down on him, almost like you were hugging him and not wanting to let him go, he enjoys the emotional connection during the moment more than anything else. I headcanon him (and all of the cast, to some degree) as existing somewhere on the aroace-spectrum. For Mr. Crawling, I see him as being reciproromantic/sexual with an average libido – he gets riled up whenever you’re riled up, though there are times he does get horny without you needing to do or say anything.  

💉: Much like Mr. Crawling, Mr. Silvair will have sex if you ask him to – he’ll make you beg for it, though, so he’s not as nice as the former. He prefers the control/power he gets from having sex rather than the sole act of intercourse (not to say he doesn’t enjoy the feeling, though). Plus, he finds the activity interesting since he knows it’s something most humans partake in with one another for a variety of reasons, from procreation to recreation. If you ask him to have sex and he isn’t in the mood, he’ll just use his hands or some toys and play around with you until you’re satisfied. I headcanon Mr. Silvair as being quoiromantic and eegosexual with a low libido. 

Z: ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

👣: Mr. Crawling doesn’t need to sleep (you know… being non-human and all), but he’ll curl up next to you on the bed and hold your body close to his while pretending to sleep alongside you. It’s kind of adorable, the way his head is nuzzled under your neck while his legs and arms are wrapped around your body, holding you close to him like you were a bodypillow or large stuffed animal. While you sleep, though, he’ll eventually place his head against your chest, listening intently to the sound of your heartbeat and the feeling of your chest rising and falling with each breath. Moments like this, laying there with you in silence, make his mind wander to scenarios with you he’ll never be able to fully experience. 

💉: Does not rest often, finding it a waste of time that could be spent doing something else. He understands you need your sleep, though, so he lets you do it in peace after you both have had sex. Mr. Silvair always manages to somehow make sure you have enough pillows to keep you comfortable or blankets to keep you from getting cold (you can’t help but wonder where he finds clean linens in such a grimy place…). Occasionally, however, he finds himself sitting next to you on the bed, fingers absentmindedly combing through your hair before he pulls his hand back as though you had burnt him – he doesn’t understand it, and he’s desperate to figure out an answer. 

[sanemistar]

i won’t let you go — satoru gojo

contains ★ satoru x gn!reader, established relationship, angst to fluff, petnames (baby, love, babe, etc.), 1k wc. ﾉ requested for my milestone event.

event m.list ★ jjk m.list

ever since you and satoru have started dating, you heard a lot of gossip and side talks from people around you about how he's never been faithful to any of his past lovers, how he lets them go after less than six months, saying that he no longer finds them interesting, that he's done being with them, how he's never truly loved and probably never will be able to love anyone. that he's a selfish man who's nothing but a player who toys with people's hearts then tosses them away when it's all over. and you’re no exception, as it’s only a matter of time before you meet the same fate as them.

he'll let you go and forget about you as if you two have never met, because satoru gojo is incapable of loving anyone.

however, you pay no attention to these words. and even if what they say is true, you still refuse to believe that it's anything but mere nonsense. and decide to fully trust satoru like you always do.

because the satoru you know and love, the man you're dating right now, your loving boyfriend, is deeply and madly in love with you. the way he kisses you ever so passionately, how he whispers the sweetest of love words to you all the time, and how he holds you in his arms tightly every night as you doze off to sleep listening to his heartbeat. no way he's leaving you, is it? you're certain of that. after all, he's promised that he'll always love you, that he'll never leave your side no matter what, that he'll never let you be alone without him. because he can't live without you.

he finds comfort in you, you're his home as he claims. and you feel the same way about him, you can't live without him either.

although, you try your best to brush these thoughts off. you can't help but wonder if it's true that he'll let you go the same way he did with the ones before you, that he'll break all these promises about being together forever.

unaware, you let these thoughts consume you as you slowly drown in sorrow.

your head starts spinning as you begin imagining the moment he breaks it down for you that he's leaving, that he no longer wants to be with you, that he's done with you. and your stomach is instantly clenched in a knot. you feel a painful pang in your heart as it gets heavier and heavier by the second.

just when you’re about to get completely lost in your thoughts, you feel a soft touch on your shoulder. you turn around and it’s none other than satoru. he cheekily smiles at you, but his cheerful expression quickly changes into a concerned, panicked one the second you start crying.

“…toru.” you sniffle as you start sobbing uncontrollably, hot tears begin to overflow out of your now red eyes like how water flows from an overfilled cup. he rests his hand on your cheek, his thumb caresses your skin delicately as he leans in. he presses feather like kisses on your face and eyes, gently kissing your salty tears away.

“why’s my baby cryin’? what’s wrong, love?” he questions, his tone is a mix of tenderness and concern. a worried look is shown in his ocean blue eyes, it pains him tremendously seeing your teary eyes and sad face, he simply can’t stand it.

you blink, eyelashes wet from crying so much. and you pause momentarily, hesitant to let the words come out of your mouth.

“i just… thought about you possibly.. leaving me alone and..” you utter in between your sniffles, lips slightly twitching. satoru doesn’t let you continue and cuts you off mid sentence.

what you don’t know is, satoru needs you far more than you need him. you're the only one who loves him for who he is as just an ordinary human and not the strongest, you allow him to be himself freely without any restrictions, he doesn't have to fake anything around you. and most importantly, you’re the one who’s introduced him to love, you’ve shown him what it’s like to truly love someone. so leaving you has never been an option to him. the thought has never crossed his mind, not even once.

"babe listen, ‘kay?” he speaks tenderly as he rests his other hand on your cheek, cupping your face in his big hands as he brings you closer to him. eyes pierced on one another, locked in an unwavering gaze, as if you're staring into one another's soul.

“no way i’m leavin’ you, not now, not ever. so don't think about that anymore, 'kay? we’re stuck together for life." he reassures you, the tone of his voice is so soft and sweet, yet affirmative and serious. he then slightly brushes his nose against yours and it tickles you a little before his hands let go of your face, only to pull you in his arms instead. your eyes widen for a split second before you rest your head gently against his broad, well toned chest. your hands grip the back of his shirt tightly, holding onto him for dear life as you steady yourself listening to his calming heartbeat. his slender fingers delicately run through your hair while pressing a series of quick, loving pecks on the top of your head.

he smiles the moment he feels you relax in his embrace. to satoru, you being in his arms as he feels your warmth against his skin is everything he’s ever needed. as long as you’re here with him, that’s more than enough for him, he doesn’t need anything or anyone else.

“i won’t let you go.” he whispers ever so softly against your ear, his voice rings in your ears like a sweet melody. and you hum quietly, smiling against his chest as your eyes slowly shut in relief. you let yourself trust him once more as his earnest words wash over the little doubts that have been there.

𝜗𝜚 taglist: @sylusdoll @stunies @itoshivy @hanaeriin @spkyssn @17020 @kalsplace

[pseudophan]

PHANNIE COOKBOOK SIGN-UPS!!

Do you have a really good recipe you think Dan and Phil would enjoy? Consider submitting it to this collaborative phannie cookbook that will be given to DnP at a meet & greet! It will also be available to everyone to download as a PDF.

Family recipes or your favourite dish from your country/culture is a bonus, but it doesn’t have to be that personal. All I ask is that you don’t go rip something random off the Internet right now just to be in the book, I want food you genuinely enjoy!

I’ve decided the most efficient way of doing this is to let you submit up to 3 different options, that way if there are any repeats (and I’m certain there will be) I won’t have to message everyone it concerns to ask if you have any alternatives. Besides, that way I can choose which version gets in based on your other options rather than which one “sounds better” to me, cause I think that would be a little unfair. I also have no idea how many people will actually participate in this yet, which is currently the biggest hurdle in terms of planning. If only a few sign up there is a chance we’ll end up using multiple recipes by some, and if somehow we get too many I’ll have to pick and choose. I do really want to include as many people as possible, but until I actually see the recipes it’s hard to tell what will end up happening.

The main focus of this will be actual food, but we obviously need to include a few desserts, so feel free to submit those as well just be aware the chances of those getting picked might be lower. The same goes for soups, I assume a lot of people have soup recipes and we might include a couple, but for obvious reasons it's a low priority.

Some key things to keep in mind:

Phil is a bit picky and has some dietary restrictions! He shouldn’t have dairy or chocolate and he doesn’t like cheese or mushrooms, among other things. That doesn’t mean you have to avoid these things entirely, but maybe your grandma’s mac and cheese recipe isn’t the best choice

While neither of them is vegan they do eat a lot of vegan food, so we definitely need some vegan dishes. I also think it would be really great if you suggested vegetarian and/or vegan substitutions you know work well with your recipe! That isn’t a must for every dish, but it’s a nice addition where possible

Tragically, Dan and Phil are British, meaning they won’t necessarily have access to all the same ingredients as you. Luckily they are also rich and live in a major city with a lot of options so they aren’t limited to what they can find at their local Tesco, but since the aim of this book is to encourage them to cook we probably shouldn’t be sending them on a scavenger hunt either. I don’t think this will be a huge issue, but if your recipe calls for something you think might be very niche or local to you it might be worth googling it or asking around

The final book will be using UK measurements, but if your recipe doesn’t then don’t even worry about it for now. We’ll get to that later. You also don’t have to worry about typing out the whole step-by-step in detail in the sign-up form, I just need a list of the ingredients and roughly how to prepare it to gauge whether it’s a good fit.

I promise I’m almost done yapping but lastly, about some of the questions on the form - you don’t need to know exactly how long the dish takes to prepare, that will depend on the person or people making it anyway, but we do need a rough estimate. The difficulty level is obviously quite subjective, but I just want to hear how you personally would rank it, and if there is a specific part of the process you think someone who doesn’t cook a lot might struggle with. As for the last question about photos, I’m asking both if you have the time and opportunity to make the food and if you are able to take a good photo of it. Obviously it doesn’t have to be anything professional, a phone camera is fine, it just needs to be well lit and decent quality.

Okay, I think that’s everything-

Here's the sign-up form

The deadline is in a week, at midnight Thursday to Friday CET :)

(I also made a blog for this @phookbook for information and updates! A lot of it will probably still be on this blog, but I'll try to post/reblog the most important things on there for those who want to keep up with everything but who may not want to deal with all the chaos of pseudophan)

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Red

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.4k

Warnings: sexual assault (not quite rape), angst, feeling uncomfortable by a man touching you, minor fluff at the end

Summary: A mission calls for you to find your inner vixen to get information from a man who is known to be a womanizer. Things don’t go according to plan, so Sam has to step up and take matters into his own hands. When Bucky hears about it, he turns to you knowing you need comfort in the safest way possible.

Want A Commission?

Author’s Note: this is a commission fic for the lovely @elegantauthor! go give her a follow! if you'd like a commission, use the link above for more information!

x

The short black dress stares back at you in your closet with a knowing look. You don’t want to wear this. you don’t want to go on this mission. You’d rather spend the night cuddled up next to your boyfriend and watch movies. Instead, you’re going on a mission to essentially be a vixen, not in the literal sense where you have sex with someone but in the sense where you have to seduce the target to get what you want.

It's not ideal but this is the job.

The man in question is a womanizer and is high in the weapons world. He’s one of the most well-known weapons dealers across the country. He mostly deals out of his club but whenever authorities raid his club, they can’t find anything to nail him with. That’s when they called your team to do what they clearly can’t.

You yank the dress off the hanger and quickly put it on. You haven’t worn this since before you started going out with Bucky. You can remember wearing this to the club with your friends.  The material is a bit tighter than you remember but it’ll help you get what you want. You shift your boobs to make them pop more without having them completely spill out the top. You walk to your vanity and sift through your makeup.

Someone knocks on your door before walking in. You smile when you see it’s your boyfriend.

“Hey, baby.” He has a frown etched onto his face, deeper than usual. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t like this plan.” You’re the only one who can get close to Mezzi. Anyone else would just tip him off. “Not that I don’t want you flirting with another man, but Mezzi is bad news. He treats women like shit. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

You set down your makeup brush and walk over to him. You wrap your arms around his neck and his hands automatically settle on your waist.

“I’m a professional, baby, and a really skilled spy. I’ve gotten bigger, more tougher men to talk for less. I’ve done this before. Plus, Sam and John will be there if anything goes wrong.”

The mention of the blonde man makes his frown deeper.

“I don’t like that John is going.”

“You don’t like anything he does.”

“There’s something dirty about him. He’s not a good man.”

You pull Bucky down toward you and kiss him, keeping the kiss short and sweet.

“You have nothing to worry about. I’ll be fine. It’s just another mission.”

Bucky slides one of his hands into your hair and kisses you for longer this time.

“Okay, I trust you,” he whispers against your lips.

“Good,” you grin and peck his lips once more.

You finish getting ready and leave with Sam and John to the car. Bucky leads his own team of soldiers who will wait outside until the cue is given. He would have gone in with you but Mezzi knows Bucky’s face. He would have ruined the entire mission before it could begin.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” you say. “I’ll go in first and distract him while you two go to the bar and pretend to be just like any other customer. Once I’m close, I’ll casually ask how my friend heard about his weapons and would like to buy some. Hopefully, he’ll be drunk enough to say where he keeps them which we would call in Bucky’s team.”

“Sounds good to me,” Sam shrugs.

“We need a safe word,” you say.

“Why?” John asks.

“Because I’m a woman going in to seduce a womanizer who looks like he doesn’t like the word no. So, I need a safe word or I’m not going in.”

“Seems fair,” Sam says.

“Fine, what is it?”

“Red. I’ll work it into the conversation but if you hear me say that, move in immediately.”

John doesn’t say anything but nods in agreement. When you get to the club, you go in first. The place is already crowded with a bunch of people but you push past them all to get to the far end of the club. There is a section separated by curtains and guards which can only mean it’s the VIP section. Through the large slit in the curtains, you see Mezzi sitting back with both arms on the back of the couch.

Bingo.

You walk closer to the VIP section and start to move your body to the music. Sam and John walk in and head to the bar like they’re supposed to while keeping a close eye on you. You look up and meet Mezzi’s eyes through the slit and smirk at him. You’ve got his attention. You run your hands down your body and move sensually to the music. He leans forward and licks his bottom lip, already entranced by you.

He calls for one of his guards and whispers something to him while maintaining eye contact with you. The guard leaves and heads over to you, and you pull your eyes from Mezzi to look at the guard.

“Boss wants to see you.”

“Lead the way,” you grin.

He allows you to pass into the VIP section, and Mezzi leans back with a lazy smirk on his face.

“Up close, you’re even more beautiful,” he grins. “Drink?”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

He gets up and walks over to the mini bar to make your drink. You watch him carefully to make sure he doesn’t put anything in your drink, and you relax when he doesn’t. This place is so secluded from the rest of the club due to the curtains so anything can happen in here and no one would know about it. Luckily, you have Sam and John in your ear so you’ll be able to call for them if things get out of hand.

“Thank you,” you smile and accept the drink. He takes a seat next to you, a little bit closer than your liking. It’s okay. Pretend he’s Bucky. “I have to say, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so handsome before.”

“Oh, baby, there is no one else like me. You’ve come to the right section. I can blow your mind without even touching you.”

“Oh, really? Lucky me,” you giggle.

Mezzi reaches out and runs his hands over your exposed thighs, and you picture Bucky’s hands touching you. This isn’t the first time you’ve had to do this for a mission, but it is the first time since you’ve been with Bucky. You respect him too much to do things like this, but there was no other way to get close to Mezzi.

“God, you’re so sexy. Best looking girl here.”

“You’re just saying that.”

His hands briefly slide up your dress before he moves it back down. “No, I’m not. When I see something I like, I make sure she knows about it.”

“Here’s to new opportunities,” you grin and hold your drink out to him. He raises his own drink and clinks it with yours, but he only takes a sip. He’s careful not to intake too much alcohol, especially when he’s involved in so much illegal shit. “I was hoping to talk to you tonight.”

“Yeah? About what?”

“I have this friend who was asking about you.”

“What friend?”

“Oh, just a friend.” You reach over and dance your fingers across his chest, slightly sliding them through the buttons of his shirt. “He says you have a certain shipment he’d like to buy from you. He wouldn’t tell me more. He says you’d know what I was talking about.”

Mezzi’s attitude switches but it’s very subtle. You can see it in his eyes. He does not like that question. He slides his hand up your body and rests his palm over the hollowness of your throat. Not hurting you but letting you know he can hurt you if you piss him off.

“Well, you tell your friend if he wants something I have, then he should be the one asking for it, not sending his whore after me.”

“Now, that’s not very nice.”

He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Oh, baby, it was a compliment.”

He pulls you in closer so that you’re practically in his lap, and you suddenly grow uncomfortable. He has one thing on his mind and it’s not talking.

“Out of curiosity, what’s the shipment?” you ask, trying to get his mind somewhere else.

“Enough talking. You clearly came here for one thing and one thing only. I deliver on all of my promises, and I promise to make your time here worthwhile.”

He slides his hand up your dress and rests it very close to the one place you only ever want one man to go: Bucky. He leans in and presses kisses to your neck so lightly, and that’s when you panic. No mission is worth feeling like this. You don’t want to be here anymore.

“Red,” you blurt out.

“What?” he asks and pulls away.

“I like your red shirt. It’s very silky.”

“It looks better on the ground.”

Sam’s earpiece has been bothering him since he got here, so he’s trying to fix it. He should have gotten a new one when he had the chance since it’s not the first time this has acted up. John’s earpiece, however, works just fine. He hears your cry for help yet he does… nothing. He looks toward the VIP section and sips his drink casually.

“My favorite color is red,” you say with slight panic.

John can’t give away their position because Mezzi hasn’t given the location of his weapons yet. If they raid now, they might not have anything. Sam tweaks a few parts before putting it back in his ear. He smiles when it works but it’s lost when he hears your panicked voice.

“Has she been saying this? Why are you just sitting there?” Sam asks.

He gets up to rescue you but John grabs his arm.

“He hasn’t told her where the shipment is.”

“I don’t fucking care. Get your hand off me.”

Sam yanks his arm away and leaves to come to your rescue. John, on the other hand, finishes his drink leisurely.

Mezzi has you pinned to the couch with your dress bunched up at your hips. The only thing separating him from rape is a flimsy piece of cotton. You wish Bucky was here.

“Please stop,” you say, close to tears. “Red!”

He is about to silence you with a hand to your throat when he freezes. Sam places a gun to the back of his head.

“Let go of her.” Mezzi does and you scramble as far as you can get from him. You shake slightly and pull your dress down as much as it can go. “If you don’t want to get your head blown off, I’d suggest you tell us where your shipment is right now.”

“You’re bluffing,” he chuckles.

Sam moves the gun away from his head and aims it at his leg. He shoots once, and Mezzi jerks back in pain. The gun has a silencer on it so no one can hear how much Mezzi is in pain. The music drowns out his shouts of pain, and Sam moves the gun back to his head.

“Am I bluffing now?”

“In the basement, man. In the tunnels.”

“Come in, Buck. You’re up. It’s in the tunnels below,” Sam says into the earpiece.

“Copy that.”

“Are you okay?” Sam asks you while keeping the gun on Mezzi.

“I think so,” you whisper.

“Go. We’ve got it handled from here.”

You don’t think twice about leaving. All you want is to go home, shower, and cry.

“Shame,” Mezzi groans in pain. “She looks like her pussy would be tight.”

Sam rears his fist back and punches Mezzi hard in the jaw. So hard that Mezzi passes out right there and then. Bucky and his men found the shipment and were able to arrest Mezzi and his men on the spot. With that much evidence, no judge would ever think about letting them go. The adrenaline has worn off and the shakes have replaced it. You were almost raped. You were sexually assaulted. You might be a trained spy but that all went out the window the second Mezzi forced you on your back.

The second Bucky heard about what happened, pissed doesn’t even cover what he’s feeling. Sam had to tell Bucky what John did because it was wrong of him to hear your safe word and do nothing about it. Bucky storms into home base and makes a beeline for John. He grabs his collar and yanks him violently toward him.

“You heard her safe word and did nothing about it?”

“I knew she had it handled! He didn’t tell her where the shipment was.”

“I oughta kill you,” Bucky growls. He grabs John’s throat with his metal hand and squeezes. “She’s my girlfriend, you bastard.”

John is no match for Bucky so he doesn’t even try to fight back. Bucky is about to do more damage when Sam walks into the room.

“She’s asking for you, Buck.”

Bucky lets John go, and the latter coughs violently. “Get him the hell out. He better be gone when I get back.” He leaves the room and walks into your bedroom. The shower is going in your bathroom, and he looks inside to see you sitting on the shower floor with your knees to your chest. “Y/N?” You don’t reply. He knows how scared you must be. “He can’t hurt you anymore, baby.”

Again, you don’t respond to him. He steps inside the running shower and turns off the water, not caring if he has water on his clothes. He wraps you in your fluffy towel and scoops you into his arms. He brings you to the bed and sits you down before going into your closet. He grabs one of his big hoodies and dresses you in it.

The second he has you in his arms, you bury your head in his chest and cry.

“Shh, I’m right here. You’re safe now. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I was so scared,” you whimper. “I thought… I just wanted you.”

“I’m here now. I won’t let him touch you again. You’re safe now.”

Bucky smooths down your hair and allows you to cry as much as you need to. He won’t tell you what John did because that would only make you feel worse.

“Please stay with me,” you whisper.

“I’m not going anywhere. You can rest knowing you’re protected. You’re safe now.”

“I love you,” you say and snuggle closer to him.

“I love you. Get some rest. I’ll be here the whole time.”

That’s all the comfort you need. He makes you feel safe, and that’s all you can ever ask for.

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[lavendarneverlands]

I’m bored and the chronic illness is chronic illness-ing today so

📷 It’s one of the rotating albums; mostly of my platonic soulmate, cat, and little brother.

🍫 Chocolate

✨ Yes, many, it’s a long story😂. But as far as Tumblr goes Lila or Lav.

🎵 “You’re Losing Me”👀👀by Taylor Swift😅😅

✏️ Yes, though I never published it.

😉 Yes, but not really. I have an account, but I don’t think I’ve ever used it (other than watching a friends stream).

💛 Yes & no😂; I’m getting my ears re-pierced soon.

🐰 That is a very complicated question with too little time to answer… but I can say in a first meeting, how they treat other people (more than me it’s mostly the people around us) goes a long way (be kind/don’t be senselessly mean to your waiters & baristas people :-)

🍪 I’d like to say a chocolate-chip cookie with the lil colored (off-brand😂) m&m’s😋

🐶🐱Both! I have a cat that I’m obsessed with, and I’m currently waiting to go pick up my new furbaby a lil golden retriever soon!

🎧 AirPods

🌼 “How do you get the strawberry Zofran smell out of a duvet?”😂

🙃 “There’s a hundred and four days of summer vacation and school comes along just to end it.” — idk why that’s what came to mind🤷‍♀️ otherwise pineapples grow from the ground still astounds me🤣

🦉 I’m a “whatever I need to be” insomniac, but probably leaning more towards night owl (cause waking up at 6:00 a.m. is miserable, but staying up till 3:00 a.m. is fine)

🧸 My bed in a blanket nest with my cat, while watching a movie like Harry Potter or Twilight (basically anything with dark & blue tinted lighting + a good soundtrack) while it gently rains

🏳️‍🌈 Yes😊,🩷💜💙

🦋 weird, artistic, loving,

👖 leggings (trick answer😂)

🧜‍♀️ PSL🍂🎃

🧡 I like all the colors… so I guess white if it was a color? But like the beige/tan/white in hospitals, my C-PTSD doesn’t like it cause it feels too cold & sterile.

💎 A bracelet from my little siblings🥹

☕️ I love both, but coffee (though I’ll never say no to a chai latte)🧋

🦖 Dinosaurs🦕 or the little deer/fox things I’m gonna have to google them (Eohippus evolved “Dawn-horse”) + woolly mammoths🦣

💫 I’ve probably been scrolling for a lonnnggg time… I had old accounts (they’ve since been deleted) back in highschool, then another private personal page probably 4 years ago? And then this one is the first time I’ve actually been active on Tumblr consistently

🏝️ Real life it would be baby wipes because they literally work for everything; wound cleaning, face washing, hair de-frizzing, clothing stain removal, wall scrubbing, cat paws, art projects like acrylic paintings, etc. For scenarios sake though I’d say duct tape (if I’m going to be actual desert island “practical”); you can make shoes, a bag for carrying things, a way to collect water, a trap, a bug deterrent, a house structure, bed padding, a raft, wound closure (albeit a terrible one but one nonetheless) boredom crafts, etc. and if we’re just saying like “I can’t live without it” probably my phone because I wouldn’t get anything done without my notes, calendar, and contacts app.

🕯️ artsy academia, insomniac writer, hairbrained feather-quilled poet, fall flower child, cat lady librarian, hopelessly romantic Parisian wine aunt, coastal grandma in a victorian witches folklorean cottage core hidden in a forgotten forrest of fairytales somewhere in the perpetually raining & starry skied Norwegian North, tending to the garden while tea kettles whistle and the smell of fancy British bake-off breads wafts along the sea to my lost sailor love, as I cleanse my “mad woman” soul with the fresh air I was sent off & away to.

🔮 Art therapist for children with special needs

💙 Single & sometimes a lil lonely (but content with good friends + way too much trauma to entertain anything outside of therapy & books right now😅😂)

🌿 It all depends on where I am, when I’m there, why I’m there, & what the weather is😂 I love fashion, but I have to be comfortable (but I also love heeled booties too much for my own very contradictory good) I almost always have leggings, a crop top, and cool jacket available. I also love a long but slit skirt, anything with thumb holes, or dresses with pockets!💅

🎤 Probably anything by Taylor Swift😂🧣also Hamilton⭐️ (but I probably get some wrong cause it’s my curse😅) also every single word to the Marvel parody of “We Didn’t Start The Fire”🤣

🤎 technically it’s naturally dirty blonde, but it’s got a Carmel hue to it (& changes a lot the past few years)

💌 Yes

💄 Yes! I love any excuse to be artsy & in another life would’ve been a makeup artist cause I enjoy it a lot

🌸 Anything my baby sis has ever said to me🫶

💞 Umm… I love too many of y’all… but I mean I’ve gotta say my bestie @ladyylesbian & the lovely @mysterylilycheeta cause I can’t not tag them in💕+ as always no pressure tags to you both & welcome to all!🤗

~ 💖 ASK GAME 💖 ~

📷 What’s set as your phone’s lockscreen?

🍫 Cheese or chocolate?

✨ Do you have any nicknames?

🎵 Last song you listened to?

✏️ Have you ever written fanfiction?

😏 Are you on discord?

 💛 Do you have any piercings?

🐰 What do you think says the most about a person?

🍪 If you were a cookie, what kind would you be?

🐶 Are you more of a dog person or a cat person?

🎧 Headphones or earbuds?

🌼 What’s the last thing you said out loud?

🙃 What’s a weird fact that you know?

🦉 Are you a morning person or a night owl?

🧸 Favorite place to nap?

🏳️‍🌈 Are you a member of the LGBTQIA+ community?

🦋 Describe yourself in three words.

👖 Jeans or sweatpants?

🥤 What’s your go-to Starbucks order?

🧡 A color you can’t stand?

💎 What’s your most prized possession?

☕ Coffee or tea?

🦖 Favorite extinct animal?

🌙 How long have you been on tumblr?

🌴 Desert island item?

🐸 Describe your aesthetic.

🔮 What’s your dream job?

💙 Relationship status?

🌿 Describe your favorite outfit.

🎤 Is there a song you know all the lyrics to?

🤎 What color is your hair?

💌 Do you talk to yourself?

💄 Do you wear makeup?

🌸 Best compliment you ever received?

💞 @ your favorite blog.

Reblogs are appreciated!

[obxsummer]

snow angel // ghost of you

pairing: jj maybank x routledge!reader

summary: the zoning hearing was already in the kooks favor, but they make sure to really dig deep in the wound. jj's faced with the ugly realization that luke maybank will always be a piece of shit, and sarah's there to talk you off a ledge when john b can't.

warnings: oh no not the ultima!, crash out rage, reader pushes john b, cursing, shoupe..... being nice?

navigation -- series masterlist

ask me anything or support me via a ko-fi

--

City Hall was more packed than you had anticipated. Apparently John B’s plan had worked, which led to the group of you being surrounded by somewhat familiar faces in the small room. 

“I want to remind everyone to maintain civility and decorum throughout the rest of these proceedings,” The mayor reminded as the session resumed after a small break. You sat next to Sarah with JJ on your other side, the latter squeezing your hand in his. “We’re one island. Why don’t we all try to act like it? Any disruption will warrant expulsion and potential charges.”

You glanced at JJ, trying to communicate silently that he needed to take that seriously. You guys needed all the help you could get right now and if he acted out, it would be another nail in the coffin.

“Without further ado, we’ll start with our council members, beginning with Council Member Lawrence.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mayor. Agenda 8A, ordinance 31, zoning for the property located at the end of Roger’s Point Road. Uh, Mr. Mayor, we have a resolution from the town of Pelican expressing support for the rezoning of multi-use land on the east side of the island, including the aforementioned Roger’s Point Road property.”

Confused glances were shared amongst your group, realizing you might not even get a chance to defend your home. 

Pope leaned in, “Did he just say they already had a resolution?”

The question went unanswered as the council member continued, “The council is voting to recommend allocating the amount of $60,000 to begin to transition that said property…”

The sound faded from your ears as you stared ahead blankly. As much as you wished you could say you didn’t see this coming, the whole town was practically against you since day one. 

“....beginning with a representative from the occupants of the Roger’s Point property, which used to be the Maybank property.”

Your hand clamped on JJ’s flannel collar instantly, holding him down in his seat before he had a chance to go up there and rage on everyone. He tried to move out of your hold before your other hand moved down on his thigh to keep him in one spot. 

Looking past Sarah, you made eye contact with John B. “Go.”

Your brother pointed at himself in confusion, likely anxious to go speak before the rest of the group voiced their agreements. Cheering followed as John B stood up, making his way over you and JJ to walk up to the podium that was in the center of the room.

“Yeah, John B!”

“Alright! Let’s go!”

You let a rushed breath escape between your lips and loosened your grip on JJ’s hoodie but kept your hand on his thigh. He clapped loudly as your brother tapped on the microphone before the room quieted per the mayor’s request.

“Please state your name for the record.”

John B anxiously tapped his fingers against the wooden stand in front of him. “I am John Booker Routledge.”

More applause followed his statement before it was hushed again, the room open for your brother to speak.

“Look, I’m… I’m not a lawyer, by any standard… but honestly, this doesn’t make any sense. I mean, we bought the property at auction, and we have a fully functioning business and have had for some time. And-and now you have a motion for rezoning on our property? And if it passes, we lose our business. And we lose our home.”

“Because of some bullshit!” “The fix is in!”

“This isn’t fair!”

“They’ve got a right!”

You glanced around at the crowd who was starting to get to their feet in frustration. JJ grabbed your hand from his thigh and tightened his grip, the first sign his emotions were heating up. The mayor banged his gavel in attempts to calm the courtroom.

“Sit down, let him speak, and shut the hell up!” 

Once the room quieted down, the mayor motioned for John B to continue. “Mr. Routledge you can continue.”

John B looked down at the podium and you could see him taking calculated breaths to keep his nerves calm. Your brother was never the best at public speaking, but he’d been a leader his whole life, and you had full confidence in him to represent you in any instance.

“As most of you know, myself, my sister, and Sarah, we lost our fathers last year. All we are trying to do is rebuild a home. That’s it. Sir, with all due respect, we’re not looking for a handout. We just want to keep our home, alright?”

The rowdiness erupted as frustration seeped into John B’s words. It was obvious the Kooks were on the opposing side of the room with the way they were all glowering and sitting. One man got to his feet, asking to interrupt whatever John B was getting at. 

“Excuse me, excuse me. May I speak?” When the mayor gave his approval, the man continued, “There seems to be a misunderstanding. Okay? And I think I can clarify.”

JJ groaned loudly as Mr. Zeasy, the realtor who approved this whole shitshow, tried to walk up to the stand.

“Mr. Routledge, you have the floor. Are you willing to let Mr. Zeasy speak?”

Your brother leaned closer to the microphone, annoyance clear on his face. “If you can explain it a little better, Dale.” John B took a step back to let him move forward, giving him the opportunity. 

“So, what the, uh, current occupants of the land don’t seem to understand is that there is an injunction to invalidate the most recent sale.”

Your attention flipped to Pope immediately. “What does that mean? Invalidate it how?”

“There was a pre-existing promissory note from the original owner that was in the process of being finalized when the land auction took place.”

You whispered toward JJ as the crowd booed in response, “Your dad?”

“The bank wasn’t legally allowed to go to auction. We have a promissory note right here from the original owner, signed before the auction, and finalized by Judge Holden.”

“That’s impossible,” You continued to argue quietly. “Your dad was gone way before we got on that ship, there’s no way he signed it.”

“That means our sale was invalid,” Pope explained as he grabbed your elbow to get your attention. “They faked the date. How can they even do that?”

You shook your head, the lump in your throat growing with each second.

“Where is the original owner? And can he validate the authenticity of this document?”

Dale spoke up again. “Yes he can. He’s right here.”

The world spun beneath you as you turned around to see Luke Maybank stand from his spot in the back of the room. He still looked like the same piece of shit when you’d last looked at him

“What the hell?” You were on your feet instantly, glaring daggers at the man who’d taken so much from someone who you adored. “He’s a wanted criminal! He should be in jail!” Your arguement fell upon deaf ears as the crowd yelled equal protests. 

“Isn’t it obvious? He signs the promissory note, and in exchange he gets amnesty,” Pope huffed and fell back into the bench, his hands pulling at his hair. 

“Now, hang on. Unless I’m very mistaken, when this all shakes out, you nice young people will be compensated of course. And, and… hold on! The land will be a club for all!”

Your hands pressed against your ears tightly, hoping all the noise would fade away into nothing. This was so unfair, so fundamentally wrong of this town in so many ways. The Kooks would win, every time, because everything came down to politics and money. Everything.

“After they do it to us, they’re gonna do it to all of you!” Kiara shouted as she moved from her seat up to where John B was standing. “This is theft!”

You didn’t realize JJ was missing from next to you until Sarah was grabbing your elbow and pulling you back to reality. The crowd was becoming unruly and glass shattered somewhere in the room before you caught sight of JJ’s blond hair.

Your jaw dropped as he body slammed a police officer to the ground, a broken window close by telling you your boyfriend was crashing out harder than you anticipated. 

Shifting out of Sarah’s grip, you glared at Luke with a look that could kill and reached to grab JJ from the ground. “Hey, hey!” You grabbed his neck and leaned forward to kiss him quickly as people started shoving from behind. “Go! Be careful!”

A cop burst past you just as JJ took off, the two of them tumbling down the stairs of City Hall. More cop cars pulled into view with officers rushing from every angle. Sarah finally got her hold back on you to move out of the way. 

“What the fuck!” You screamed as they slammed JJ on the hood of the sheriff cruiser. You’d lost sight of Cleo and Pope, and there was no way in hell you were letting Sarah continue to get pushed around with her possible pregnancy. Grabbing her hand, you tugged her arm to get outside of the room and into the sunshine as people stormed around you. Other teens took the attacking the new police vehicles, someone jumping on the cruiser JJ had just been shoved in. 

“John B!” Your voice cracked with the force of your yell. Your brother was lost in the crowd, likely keeping hands off Kiara in the mass of people. 

“He’s over here!” Sarah pulled your hand to where you could see John B crowding the tail end of the car as Cleo kicked out the back windshield. You didn’t have time to be shocked and reached forward to grab the hood of JJ’s jacket while your friends helped pull him out of the glass covered surface. 

“Go!” Your brother shoved JJ’s chest and moved him away from you as Pope yelled to run. “Get out of here!”

You caught JJ’s gaze long enough to see how scared he was before he took off without another word. 

“Shit!” There wasn’t time to follow him before John B’s arms were wrapping around your waist and tugging you out of the way of an oncoming brawl. “Come on,” John B let go of you with one arm to grab Sarah’s hand. “Let’s go, let’s go!”

Pushing your brother’s arm off, you started running in the general direction that JJ had taken off, figuring he was heading into town since it would be empty from the crowd here. Your muscles burned as you continued to push yourself further. Your name echoed behind you as you gained a lead on your friends, your mind only set on finding your boyfriend and getting the hell out of here.

—

JJ was always an athletic person, but shit, he was running for sure. Your pace slowed eventually as you approached town, chest burning for a break. 

Turning the corner, you slowed at the sight of broken car windows, store doors shattered, and flames building from the electrical poles. You couldn’t see any sign of JJ, and the growing crowd wasn’t helping you narrow down where he could’ve been. Glancing around, you realized the power was out, and you prayed he at least managed to accomplish that first to take out any cameras nearby.

Shoupe was yelling into his walkie for all units, claiming the whole town would get looted any minute and he would need backup. 

A dirt bike nearly clipped you in the side before you realized you were in over your head and needed to move. You cursed under your breath, moving along with the crowd to blend in before you were ahead of them all. Without anyone to stop him, JJ wouldn’t hesitate to wipe the whole town out if he could. It was a perfect misplaced aggression, and the fact that other Pogues were joining in would only fuel him.

You tried to rack your brain for where he would go next: the house was off limits, it was too obvious. Kie’s dad wouldn’t hide him at the Wreck and there was no doubt anywhere on Figure Eight had cameras. 

“He went that way!” You turned at the sound of a voice, a girl you’d recognized from the bonfires pointing in the general direction of the rental estates down the street. You nodded, barely giving her a thank you before you were running again in hopes of catching up to JJ.

Evidently, he was making enough of a scene that the cop cars were rounding the corner and following your path to catch up to him. You ducked into the trees along the road, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible as you ran alongside them until you landed on the vacation real estate side of the island. 

All of the Kooks with vacation homes ran their offices on the same road, and you had a good feeling you knew which one JJ would be hidden in. Before you had a chance to get ahead of the situation though, a handful of cop cars had surrounded the office, effectively cutting off your opportunity to get to JJ first. 

You took a deep breath, praying he could level his head out enough to make the right decision and keep himself out of harm enough until you could get to him. You pulled your hood up on your head and started in the direction of the building. 

“Stop, stop!” John B knocked you off course a second later, his hand wrapping itself around your sleeve to yank you to a stop. You panicked, knowing your brother would do anything it took to keep you safe, including letting JJ run wild.

Heaving for air, you shoved him away a little harsher than you’d intended. “Get off of me! They’re going to kill him!”

“Hey!” John B stumbled back with the force of your action, eyes widening in surprise before he steadied himself. “You’ve gotta calm down.”

You shook your head, body practically bouncing with adrenaline and glanced at the series of lights behind you. “I need to talk to him, okay? You don’t understand, he’s gonna-”

“I know!” John B took the chance to reach forward and hold your shoulders. “We’re going to get him, but you cannot lose it on us. Not right now, okay?”

Your brother read your expression like a neon sign. You were terrified, and you were right behind JJ’s crashout if he didn’t reel you in this second. John B knew you and JJ felt everything so strongly, and it was getting even deeper when you were together. The two of you were weirdly connected, like a radiating ball of chaos, as John B would call it. Whatever JJ was feeling would seep into you instantly, so it was no surprised you were as out of it as the blond boy was when he took off.

“Hey,” Sarah’s voice was much softer than your brother’s as she moved in front of you to stand next to John B. “I need you to stay with me, yeah? You said you’d help me figure it out.”

You knew what she was trying to do. Trying to lock you in one spot to protect her the way she knew you would with the knowledge you had. Sirens echoed around and you glanced away to see flickers of red and blue lights, a sinking feeling taking over your stomach.

Sarah whispered your name, her hand gentle on your cheek as she pulled you back. Your heart was racing, and she could practically feel it under her touch. Her lips mouthed please, and it was enough to break your hesitation, forcing you to nod. She took your hand in hers and looked up at John B who was staring at the two of you with confusion.

“Let’s go,” Pope pulled you all out of your moment and you started moving again at a slower pace. 

The chaos from City Hall was starting to catch up again as your group jogged up to the office where Shoupe was climbing out of a cruiser. The front door was kicked in, but thankfully it seemed like JJ hadn’t done much damage compared to downtown. 

“If you’re not in uniform, stay back!” Shoupe called out as Pope walked up in attempt to talk to him before he was pushed back into line by another cop. “Aright, JJ. You’ve gone too far, and we’ve got a serious situation!”

The crack of a firework had you jumping in your spot, head tucking like it would stop anything from happening. Hands trembling, you reached in your pocket to grab your phone, praying by everything JJ had his on him.

go out the back, you typed quickly, please be safe. don’t do anything stupid.

The read receipt popped up a moment after and you let out a deep breath, knowing the message would be enough to get into his head and shift his mindset. 

Looking up, Shoupe was still trying to talk to you boyfriend, but you knew damn well he would be long gone by the time they put together the pieces. You shifted away from your friends, John B’s fingers just missing your shoulder as you walked forward.

“Shoupe!” You called out his name and raised your hands slightly to show that you meant no harm as deputies swarmed instantly to prevent any interruption. “Shoupe, please!”

There were a lot of things that were difficult in the law force after Peterkin had died. Trusting people? Shoupe had always struggled with that, especially when the price was right. But now? With you standing feet away from him and the knowledge that he had about your past, he hoped he could trust you. The least he could do is hear you out.

Shoupe stared at you for a moment before waving you in, both deputies standing aside to let you do so. “Can you talk to him?” He asked you, holding the megaphone to his side as you stopped next to him. Deep down he cared for JJ, even if it was hard love.

“He’s not here,” You answered honestly and crossed your arms over your chest to hold yourself. “I told him to go somewhere safe. He might’ve been here before, but he’s not here now.”

Shoupe watched you closely for any telltale sign that you were lying. “He destroyed the town, so he’s in a ton of trouble. I know you’re smart enough to know that, so in order to keep this short, do you know where he is?”

It was obvious he was trying to intimidate you, but he wouldn’t win. You shook your head. “No, and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. Shoupe, you know what his dad did to him. And you know it isn’t fair what they’re doing to us. The power’s out downtown, which means cameras are out, and you have no proof JJ did anything. I think you owe us a little wiggle room on this one. Please.”

The man hesitated. Last time you tried to interfere with an arrest, you ended up with a dislocated shoulder and he willinging took you back to an abusive household. Shoupe heard rumors, saw the bruises and injuries himself when John B was arrested that day. He should’ve never taken you back. Life had been cruel to you, and he didn’t want to keep that going.

“Get out of here,” He whispered, but the tone of his voice was understanding. “You kids need to lay low, do you hear me? Or I will be finding a reason to press charges.”

You nodded, trying not to look too excited at his reaction. “Thanks, Shoupe. Really.”

He nudged his head back toward your group. “Tell your boy he’s on thin ice, yeah?”

“Yeah,” You called over your shoulder as you made your way back to your friends. “I’ll ground him and everything.”

Shoupe started dismissing the scene behind you while the group stared at you with wide eyes.

“Do I even want to know what you did?” John B asked once you stopped in front of them. Sarah was smirking at you, knowing you likely sweet talked your way out of it. 

“Sold my soul,” You replied rhetorically before actually explaining, “What else would I do? I told him JJ isn’t here, because he isn’t.”

Pope tilted his head and waited for the elaboration. “But he is…?”

Your phone twisted between your fingertips as an answer. “Told him to run. Didn’t say where, just to stay safe.”

“He’ll be so safe,” Pope joked with a laugh as relief fell over the group. John B bent over and placed his hands on his knees with a huff, Kiara running her hands through her hair in disbelief. 

“Rude boy,” Cleo clicked her tongue and shook her head, “Always gotta cause trouble somewhere.”

A smile started to form on your face as lightning lit up the sky, a crack of thunder shaking your form just before rain started to pour down. 

John B watched you carefully, knowing you were coming down from your adrenaline rush and would crash any moment now. He turned toward Sarah, who had been looking at you too.  “You okay?” He asked quietly.

She nodded, breaking out of her daze to smile at him. “Yeah, just a long night. Wanna sleep.”

He nodded in understanding and pulled the girl closer under his arm. “Then let’s go home.”

--

The group scattered relatively quickly once you arrived back at Poguelandia. JJ had sent a rushed I love you text and the charter boat was gone, which meant he made it somewhere relatively safe for the night. Kie dismissed herself to shower, Pope and Cleo quietly shutting their door without much conversation. Sarah walked in, promising to make some sort of dinner, which left you on the porch swing with John B.

Your brother didn’t say a word but lifted his arm invitingly for you to snuggle into his side. JJ had sent a rushed I love you text and the charter boat was gone, which meant he made it somewhere relatively safe for the night. 

“Thanks for snapping me out of it,” You spoke quietly and tucked your feet up on the bench, pushing more of your weight against him. Rain pattered against the roof, lightning flashing across the sky every so often.

John B kissed your forehead wordlessly, his hand warm as it moved back and forth slowly against your arm. His mind was moving in so many directions. How was he supposed to take care of you and Sarah with no money and soon to be nowhere to go?

You flicked his forehead to bring him back to reality. “Earth to JB. Hello?”

“Sorry,” He mumbled, eyes blinking to refocus. “Just don’t know what we’re gonna do.”

You frowned and sat up, letting his arm fall back to his side. “John B, you don’t have to figure this out on your own. We’re going to do it together.”

“I know, I know. But we shouldn’t have to. We shouldn’t even have to deal with this.” He turned to face you. “Do you ever regret going after the gold?”

The question caught you off guard. Did you? 

“Do you realize the amount of things that would be different if we didn’t find that Scooter’s boat that day? You would’ve never dealt with Rafe. We would’ve never lost our home, and Dad would maybe still be alive. Pope would be in medical school by now, Kie probably running a turtle habitat rescue and living as an influencer or something. Shit, JJ and I would be pro-surfers and probably competing. Life would be so different.”

“Do you realize how different it would be too? You would’ve never been with Sarah, she would probably still be with Topper. Cleo wouldn’t be here. We have answers about Dad, now. We wouldn’t have had Poguelandia, I would’ve never gotten with JJ. Sarah wouldn’t be-” You clammed up quickly, teeth sinking into your lip at almost spilling the beans to John B.

“Sarah wouldn’t be what?” He repeated.

You shook your head. “Sarah wouldn’t be here, with you. You’d still be a lonely and miserable fuck who bothered the shit out of me.”

John B opened his mouth in feigned shock, which made you laugh loudly, the two of you falling into a fit of giggles.

“Seriously, though,” You continued once the two of you had stopped laughing. “In a way, I got you back, John B. The version of us that existed when Agatha hit is not the version of us here, today.”

He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, hands twisting between each other as he listened to you. 

“I don’t realize it, because I don’t question what we’ve done,” You said softly and set your hand on his shoulder. “I don’t want to change any of it because I have you, and we have this family that we’ve never had before on this level. I wouldn’t trade any of them for the world. I wouldn’t trade you for the world, you know that?”

John B’s laugh was teary. “That’s the nicest shit you’ve ever said to me.”

A small smile form on your lips and you quickly brushed away tears of your own. “C’mon, Bird. I know I give you a really hard time. But you’re my favorite brother.”

“I’m your only brother.”

You shoved his shoulder with a smile before curling back into his side with his arm around you. John B leaned his head against yours as the two of you watched the water move slowly against the dock. Cicadas buzzed around and the rain continued to pour overhead. The sounds so familiar, so comforting you almost forgot how insane the night had been.

“I love you, you know?” You whispered, eyes growing heavy with the events of the day.

“Yeah. I know.”

--

a/n: SIBLING! BONDING!!!!! see no pope arrest, and jj technically didn't catch major charges (i have no sense of criminal history, just nod in agreement and move on)

listen to snow angel by renee rapp!!!!

navigation -- series masterlist

ask me anything or support me via a ko-fi

[hotshotsxyz]

since forever

(buddie) (1.3k words) at no point in time while writing this did i have a single plan for where it was going. it's soft, it's sweet, it has minor spoilers for the blair witch project (1999)

Bizarrely, the first thing that occurs to Eddie post-realization is that he lied to a priest. The thought startles a laugh out of him. Whoops.

He feels good. Like—shockingly good. Light and optimistic and free, everything he’s been trying to let in since Father Brian gave him the go ahead to stop punishing himself, which—

It isn’t actually that he needed permission, especially not from a priest. Or maybe he did.

All he really knows is that this joy he’s letting in? It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t hurt him, or Chris or Buck or anyone else he loves. So when Eddie finally realizes why he’s been putting Buck in his own category for years, he doesn’t even try to put it back in the box.

He loves Buck. He wants Buck. And he’s allowed to want. It’s a good thing, even. And speaking of Buck—

His best friend/the love of his freaking life is staring at him like he’s grown two heads. Which, fair. He’s not entirely sure where they are in the movie, but as far as he recalls there isn’t much in the way of comedy in The Blair Witch Project.

It’s just—Buck was sitting on the literal edge of his seat, pillow clutched protectively to his chest, staring at the TV with eyes wider than dinner plates. Who in their right mind could see something like that and come to any conclusion other than love?

Buck pauses the movie.

“Do not tell me you think this,” he says, gesturing at the screen where, oof, yeah, a young woman is sobbing in terror, “isn’t scary.”

“No, no,” Eddie replies, “very scary.”

Buck snorts. “You’re such an asshole,” he says, but it’s wrapped in one of those warm grins that give him away every time.

Eddie hums agreeably.

“Alright, fine,” Buck says. He scoots closer until he’s flush against Eddie’s side. It’s really not that much of a scoot. “If you’re gonna go all brave strong man on me, I get to use you as a shield.”

“I guess I can live with that,” Eddie sighs. He wraps an arm around Buck’s shoulders, just because he wants to.

He can feel Buck’s exhale as he settles against his shoulder, and for all the times they’ve touched before, this feels different. Maybe it isn’t, though. Maybe Eddie’s just different.

As the tension in the movie ramps, Buck burrows further and further into Eddie. He kicks his feet up onto the couch and twists so that Eddie’s forearm falls from his shoulder and drapes across his chest instead. It’s maybe the most comfortable Eddie’s ever been.

On screen, the two remaining characters creep into a seemingly abandoned house. On the couch, Buck squeaks and grabs Eddie’s hand. This, he decides, is his new favorite movie.   

“We’re never going hiking again,” Buck declares as the credits roll.

“Sure,” Eddie says, shrugging with the shoulder that isn’t currently occupied by Buck’s head. “Until you see a cool trail on Instagram.”

“I’m serious!” Buck says. He tilts his head back until he can kind of make eye contact with Eddie. “I am not getting Blair Witched.”

Eddie hums, pretending to think about it. “How about we just… never go hiking in Maryland?” he proposes.

Buck grins up at him, and oh, Eddie has never wanted to kiss someone as much as he does in this exact moment.

“Deal,” Buck says. He sits back up and rests his head back against Eddie’s shoulder.

There’s a long stretch of quiet where Buck plays with his fingers and Eddie revels in the feeling of it. He thinks—he’s almost certain—that he could ask Buck for anything right now and he’d say yes.

Kiss me.

Move in with me.

Marry me.

His lips tick into a small smile at the thought, but he takes it no further.

“Hey, Eds?” Buck asks quietly.

The TV screen has shut itself off, leaving the room in semi-darkness, cut only by the light of the streetlamps outside.

“Yeah?”

“Something’s different,” he says. It’s not a question.

“It is,” Eddie acknowledges.

“Good different?”

Eddie considers for a moment. Something about the hour, the darkness, Buck’s warmth against his side, makes him feel brave. He presses the smallest, softest of kisses into Buck’s hair.

“Good different,” Eddie confirms.

“Oh,” Buck breathes.

“Good ‘oh’?” Eddie asks teasingly.

Buck flicks one of Eddie’s fingers in recompense. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you were fishing for something,” he says.

“If I am?”

Buck takes a shaky breath. “Then I’m gonna need you to spell it out for me, Eds.”

He sits up and turns to face Eddie directly, and as much as Eddie misses the warmth of his body, he wants to look Buck in the eye for this part.

“I love you,” Eddie says.

Buck’s lips part in an awed sort of surprise.

“I’m in love with you,” he continues. “I have been, for years, I think. I just… wasn’t ready to let myself look at it.”

“Eddie,” Buck says, already a little wrecked.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Eddie reassures. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“No, I—” Buck says quickly, stumbling over his words. “I didn’t—I’ve never even—” He looks down and his expression shifts, like he didn’t realize he was still holding on to Eddie’s hand. “You love me?” Buck asks, looking back up, eyes shining in the yellow glow of the streetlamps.

“Yeah,” Eddie says softly. “More than I think I knew was possible.”

Buck exhales in a punched-out kind of way. He raises a hand to Eddie’s face and ghosts two fingers along his cheekbone and down the line of his jaw. “I didn’t—I didn’t know I could,” he breathes.

“You can, Buck,” Eddie says. “Whatever you want, it’s—”

Buck surges forward and cuts him off with a kiss, and if there was a single doubt left in Eddie’s mind, this would’ve extinguished it. It’s a little messy, a little awkward, and the angle’s not quite right, but—

It’s Buck, so it’s perfect.

He pulls back, gasping for air. “I—I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

Eddie catches one of his hands and rubs his thumb in soothing circles on Buck’s wrist. “Don’t be,” Eddie says softly. “It’s okay. If you need time—”

“No!” Buck says quickly. “Or—maybe? I just—” He blows out a sharp breath.

“Hey,” Eddie says, ducking his head until Buck meets his eye again. “I told you once that you didn’t need to be anything for anybody. That includes me, okay?”

“Jesus, Eddie,” Buck says.

“I’m just saying, you don’t have to make any decisions tonight. You don’t even have to want,” Eddie says, gesturing between them in lieu of finishing his sentence.

Buck sags a little. “Of course I want,” he whispers.

Warmth floods Eddie’s chest and overflows into his stomach. “Yeah?” he asks.

A slow smile spreads across Buck’s face. “Yeah,” he says. “I really do.”

Eddie has known happiness before, felt it in small bursts and long stretches. But what he’s feeling now—it’s blindingly bright, brilliant and beautiful and free of fear in a way he’s not sure he’s ever experienced.

“Can I kiss you again?” Buck asks breathily.

Eddie nods, not quite sure he can trust his tongue anymore.

This time, Buck leans forward deliberately. He cups Eddie’s face in his hands and tucks his nose against Eddie’s before carefully brushing their lips together. It’s featherlight and maddening in the best possible way.

He presses his lips against Eddie’s again, then teases them open with his tongue and—

God, if this is how it was always supposed to feel, Eddie’s pretty sure there are a few more revelations coming his way in the near future. For now, though, he just leans in.

“Oh!” Buck exclaims, popping back suddenly. “I love you, too,” he says. There’s something like wonder coloring his tone and writing itself across his face. “I really—Eddie, I think I’ve loved you forever.”

It’s not possible, not really. As difficult as it is to remember what it was like before his life became intertwined with Buck’s, that before still exists. Eddie knows that. But in his heart—he’s pretty sure his atoms started loving Buck’s at the beginning of the universe.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, drawing Buck back in. “Me too.”

[fxstpace]

oh, snap!

summary. you and jake sim might have been best friends once upon a time, but not anymore. now, you barely talk to each other—so you decide to prove the universe wrong when you find out that he’s your soulmate, because there’s no way both of you are compatible.

pairing. jake sim x fem!reader genres. fluff, angst, childhood friends to lovers!au, soulmate!au, college!au word count. 7.0k

↳ warnings. profanity, alcohol consumption, sexual jokes, soulmate lore i made up ↳ a/n. this is a fic i had posted on my now deactivated blog, which i’ve made minor modifications to. thanks for reading!

The universe has to be fucking with you.

You aren’t one to believe in manifestation or the law of attraction or whatever other nonsense your TikTok feed provides you with. You think it’s a total waste of time, energy, and resources. 

Right now, however, you’re manifesting with all your might—eyes screwed tightly shut, hands clasped in front of your chest, only one thought running through your head: Please don’t let it be Jake Sim, please don’t let it be Jake Sim, please don’t let it be—

You open one eye cautiously. You lift up the pinkie finger of your right hand equally carefully. 

Fuck.

You drop your hands and let your head fall onto the desk in front of you. A dull thud echoes around you, and normally, you would be apologetic since you’re at the library, but because you’re wallowing in self-pity you can’t bring yourself to care. A frown mars your forehead. Maybe you’re manifesting wrong. Is that even a thing? Perhaps you should ask your friend Yizhou how to do it; she’s pretty popular on Instagram so surely she’d have some idea. Maybe one of her fellow influencer friends is a manifester. (Is that what they call it?)

You lift your head up and stare morosely at the red thread twined around your little finger. It winds down the floor, swirling and looping in gentle curves. You glare at the person it’s connected to.

Jake Sim, that little piece of shit.

The object of your disdain is seated one table away from yours. He’s hunched over his laptop, occasionally scribbling something into the messy notebook in front of him. His glasses keep slipping down the bridge of his nose, and every time he pushes them back up, you feel a tug on your finger. 

This brings you to the following question: Does he not know you’re his soulmate?

You have three answers. One: He knows, but he doesn’t care. Two: He doesn’t know. Three: He doesn’t care.

The second option is rare but not unheard of. There have been several cases where people vehemently deny the existence of soulmates and refuse to believe in it. Such people never get to see the red thread that is wrapped around their finger, even though it exists. Truthfully, you feel bad for the people on the other side of the thread—the non-believer’s alleged soulmate. They will forever watch from afar, never going too close, but never straying away either. It sounds lonely, more than anything else. 

You push that thought away. If Jake doesn’t know, it should be a good thing, right? You don’t need a soulmate to survive. You can just continue with your life as it is—attending classes, hanging out with your friends… Yeah, you’re happy with everything you have.

Another tug at your pinkie forces out an annoyed huff from your mouth. You glare at the perpetrator, still engrossed in his work. To be fair, you didn’t know Jake was your soulmate until very recently either. You knew the thread existed but didn’t know who it was connected to. When you were younger, you and your friends would have tons of fun pulling at the thread to annoy your unknown soulmate. Getting a pull back was a source of glee for seven-year-old you. Now, it just fills you with dread.

“Oi.” Someone’s breath tickles your ear.

“Fucking hell!” 

You swat at your best friend’s face, successfully smacking his cheek. Taehyun grunts in pain. “Uncalled for.”

“What the fuck, Taehyun?” You grouse. “Don’t scare me like that. Sorry ‘bout your cheek.”

The boy rolls his eyes, sitting down on the chair next to you and dumping his tote bag on the table. “I’d feel better if you actually meant your apology. Also, why aren’t you studying? Our midterms start in a week and staring at Lover Boy isn’t gonna help you pass your classes.”

“Don’t call him that,” you snap. “And I was… studying.”

“Right. That’s exactly why none of your books are open.”

“Shut up, people are staring.”

Taehyun raises his eyebrows but doesn’t comment. You’re not wrong—people are staring. Well, specifically, one person. You flex your little finger a little, straightening it out and then bending it again. If Jake feels any sort of yank, he doesn’t show it. Not that you’re interested, of course. You’re just… observing. So is he, clearly. He peers over his glasses at you both, his expression not betraying anything.

You flinch when Taehyun pinches your side. Turning back to him, you’re ready to yell at him for being an annoying asshole, when he fixes you with a pitying sort of look. You swallow.

“Hey,” he says softly, “don’t overthink, okay? He’s alone right now, you might as well talk to him about this.”

You blink uneasily, eyes flitting between your friend and the unopened book in front of you.

“How long are you gonna avoid him? You’ve been hiding this for months. And… he has a right to know,” Taehyun finishes, flicking a strand of hair out of his eyes.

You swallow again, around the lump in your throat that’s been sitting there for months. You found out that Jake was your soulmate months ago. Yet, you can’t seem to bring yourself to confront him or tell him about it. A far cry from the whole entire concept of soulmates—isn’t he supposed to be your missing puzzle piece? Certainly not, if you’re too nervous to even approach him. The universe must have made a mistake. Whatever higher being exists must have assigned you to the wrong person.

Taehyun is right, though. (You’re not going to admit it to him, of course; there’s no need to boost his already inflated ego.)

Jake Sim does have a right to know that he’s your soulmate. 

You shift uncomfortably. Taehyun drops his gaze with a sigh. “I know you two have a history but can’t you just sort this out?”

“I… can’t,” you say lamely. 

Your best friend looks sadly at you. You look away, fidgeting with the cover of your textbook. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a girl make her way to Jake’s table. He perks up immediately, greeting her with a soft smile. She sits down next to him and grabs Jake’s laptop, angling it towards her like it’s second nature. It probably is, you think bitterly.

Another reason why you can’t tell Jake Sim about this whole Situation: He has a girlfriend.

Park Chaerin meets your eyes and waves at you cheerfully. You wave back, feeling sick to your stomach.

You press the tip of your pen into your notebook, fighting the urge to close your eyes. Even the half-empty cup of coffee next to your laptop has done little to wake you up. Morning classes are the bane of your existence, and as a night owl, you vehemently dislike getting up early. Your professor rattles on about an assignment due in a week. You stifle another yawn behind your hand.

Feeling a yank on your little finger, you press the palm of your hand on the desk and ignore it. Jake Sim is sitting right next to you—courtesy of both of you having arrived five minutes late, and the only seats left were in the last row. Your Friday 8 AM lecture on the Quantum Theory of Electromagnetism is normally interesting, but Professor Jang makes even the most stimulating topics seem dry. You usually end up resorting to self-study sessions in order to understand everything. 

Jake is scribbling something next to you. He’s probably doodling. He used to do that a lot when he was little, too. You recall pages upon pages of maths notes interspersed with tiny drawings of dinosaurs and dragons in the margins. They had made you laugh at the time. 

“Hey,” he whispers.

You blink.

“Hi,” you say.

Jake grins at you—and you’re dazzled, for a moment. It’s been so long since you’ve had that smile of his being directed at you. You’ve seen him smile at other people on campus—his new friends, his girlfriend, acquaintances—all from afar, and you push down the bitter sting of rejection that pricks you every time. After so many months, it feels like you were in a pitch-black room all this time, and someone suddenly turned on the lights. It’s blinding.

Your former friend caps his pen and leans back in his chair. “Did you get enough sleep?”

“Um, yeah,” you answer. Just to be polite, you add, “...Did you?”

“Kind of.” Jake winces.

“Oh.”

“I was trying to understand the topic before this. Y’know—” he meets your eyes expectantly— “the whole Kronig-Penney model and the Bloch function and all that. I spent, like, two hours on them,” he says sheepishly.

“Oh, uh, yeah, those are kinda difficult,” you offer.

You’re still perplexed by this whole situation. Admittedly, after weeks of minimal contact with your childhood best friend, this isn’t how you imagined your reunion would go. All awkwardness aside, however, it feels… nice, talking to him again. It’s hard to move past the last few months, but there’s nothing wrong with this, right? You can think of it as two classmates bonding over a hard course they willingly chose. Two classmates who’ve known each other since they were toddlers just learning to walk, but you deliberately don’t think of that.

Jake hums. “The graphs get super confusing.”

“I guess,” you say. 

He leans forward abruptly, elbows knocking on the edge of the desk. His stare on you is intent, focused. “Is your number still the same?”

You gape at him, mouth open like a blown-out fish. “Uh… yeah. Why?”

“So I can text you if I don’t understand anything,” Jake says simply, easily, still sporting that same easygoing smile of his. Your stomach twists into knots, and you force yourself to appear calm and not like your heart is about to leap out of your throat.

“I think you should’ve asked me first,” you manage to say.

He looks at you strangely, a dip in his eyebrows. “Why would I do that?”

Why, indeed.

Jake has known you for years; this is an undeniable fact. Even now, he probably knows you better than anyone else does—or ever could. So there’s absolutely no way he can’t make sense of the stifling awkwardness that surrounds you both.

However, the same holds true for you: You know Jake Sim just as well as he knows you. You know he’s trying to bridge a gap, make amends in a way only he does. You would be a fool if you didn’t take it in stride.

You crack a small smile. “Fair enough.”

He picks up his pen and twirls it between his fingers idly, before saying, “I’ll text you about other stuff, too.”

“Okay.”

“Great.”

Jake is all smiles and sunshine. He starts doodling again—what looks like a misshapen traffic cone of some sort. You look away, and tuck this little slice of goldenness into your rapidly rabbiting heart. 

This is not good. You pay no heed to the thread around your little finger, and pick up your own pen. Angling your notebook away from your deskmate, you begin to write.

REASONS WHY JAKE SIM CANNOT BE MY SOULMATE FUCK THIS SHIT IM OUT

#1. he doesn’t know you as well as he should (okay, maybe he does)

You have no clue how you ended up studying with Jake Sim and Park Chaerin, of all people.

Your own friends, Kang Taehyun and Kim Gaeul are utterly nonplussed at this new situation. You give them a helpless shrug when they elbow each other and raise their eyebrows at you. The library is fairly empty at this hour, which makes it an ideal time to study without the distractions of other people. Of course, you didn’t consider the two people who’ve decided you’re a physics expert and require your guidance.

You humour them because you’re a nice person—not because you’re weak to Jake’s entreaties and his offer of buying you food for a whole week.

Chaerin smiles at your friends. “Hey, guys! Come join us.”

Taehyun is the first to blink out of his confusion. He moves forward, pulling out the chair opposite yours and settling down. “Thanks. We won’t bother you guys much.”

Gaeul nods her head. “Yeah, I have a bunch of assignments to finish.” She chuckles nervously, smoothing out her hair.

“No problem,” Jake supplies. “Your friend is super smart.”

Taehyun raises his eyebrows, pointing an incredulous finger at you. “You mean…?”

“Hey!” You swing your leg and kick Taehyun’s shin from under the table. He winces in pain. Gaeul giggles, and so does Chaerin. Jake lets out an amused snort.

“Anyway, as I was saying,” you say, “this bit isn’t that important from a test point of view, so just go over it to get the general idea.” You mark the paragraph you were referring to with a pencil.

Chaerin and Jake nod in tandem, like a pair of bobbleheads. You bite your lip to stifle your smile—they’re so perfect together, it’s ridiculous. You wouldn’t be surprised if Jake’s end of the string was connected to Chaerin’s instead. Is that even possible? You’ll have to google it up.

The thought puts a significant damper on your mood, and you turn away, drawing back from the pair sitting next to you. 

Instead, you lock eyes with Taehyun, who’s glaring at you with enough intensity to drill a hole through your forehead. Talk to him, he mouths. You give him a small shake of your head.

You can’t talk to him about anything serious. Explaining physics to him and his girlfriend in the presence of your own best friends is a sort of safe zone; you don’t have to discuss anything personal whatsoever. All you have to do is prattle off a list of formulae and derivations and graphs, and hope that what you’re telling them to study is actually going to be asked on your midterm next week.

Taehyun rolls his eyes so hard, you wonder how they haven’t popped out of their sockets. He’s exasperated, you can tell—and Gaeul has probably been receiving the brunt of it all, because he would never outrightly say he’s upset with you. He would rant to Gaeul instead, trusting that she would tell you everything he told her but more nicely. That’s how your little trio circles back to each other.

You shift uncomfortably. Gaeul catches your eye and gives you a small, sympathetic smile. Your lips twitch upwards slightly.

“Wow,” Chaerin says, “I can’t believe we finished a whole unit in, like, one and a half hours.” She directs the next part to you. “You’re really smart. Don’t listen to Taehyun.”

“Y/N doesn’t listen to me anyway,” your friend grumbles. Gaeul hides her snort behind her styrofoam cup of coffee.

Speaking of which, you could really use some caffeine too. Anything to get away from Jake Sim and his quiet, knowing… aura, is the word you settle for. He wasn’t always this quiet—he used to be loud and raucous when it was just the two of you in high school—so while this new development isn’t surprising, it certainly is jarring.

“I’m going to get some coffee,” you announce to the table at large. “Anyone wanna come with?”

“I’ll come,” Jake says immediately. “I owe you for teaching us.”

“Oh, um.” You attempt to smile. “I—”

“Please go,” Taehyun says suddenly, his tone beseeching. “I need coffee too but I don’t trust Y/N to not put salt in mine or something.”

You gape at him, betrayal flooding your features. Gaeul snorts again. Chaerin just looks at you and Jake alternately. Jake’s lips twitch upwards. “Y/N still does that?”

You whirl around to face him. “What?”

“Oh, this is getting interesting,” Gaeul pipes up. “Do elaborate.”

“I second that,” Chaerin adds. 

You feel your cheeks and the back of your neck heat up. You want to implore your former best friend to keep his pretty mouth shut, but your ego doesn’t let you grovel in front of three other people. Jake raises his eyebrows, lips parting to form a small ‘o’. He smiles, a little bit sheepish. Before he can say anything, you intervene.

“That was one time, Taehyun!” you snap. “And it was by accident. Why would I willingly put salt in your coffee?”

Taehyun raises an eyebrow at you, but inside, you know he’s laughing uncontrollably at your predicament. “Who knows? You might wanna poison me for being cooler than you.”

“What is this, high school? And why the fuck would I want a murder on my hands? I’m too young to go to jail.”

Chaerin tries to muffle her giggles with her hand. Both you and Taehyun turn simultaneously to look at her. “Sorry.” She giggles again. “You two talk like an old married couple.”

“Gross,” you say, at the same time Taehyun draws out an, “Ew,” and extends the last syllable like a child in kindergarten.

“Oh my God,” Gaeul says. “Chaerin, you’re a genius. I see it too.”

“Not you too,” Taehyun groans.

The two begin bickering again, and Chaerin joins them with enthusiasm, adding her own little tidbits of support for Gaeul in between the conversation. During all this, Jake remains remarkably quiet, an amused smile tugging on his lips. 

You turn to him, a rush of sudden embarrassment making your cheeks heat up. It occurs to you that he’s never seen you like this—laughing and joking around with your friends. Friends that don’t include him. “Sorry,” you mumble. “Let’s go get coffee.”

“Okay.” 

You and Jake push your chairs back under the table and exit the library. The coffee shop is two storeys down, so you make a beeline for the staircase. Your former best friend follows you, his undone shoelaces slapping on the tiles. He still doesn’t tie his shoelaces properly, then. Perhaps he hasn’t changed as much as you thought.

“Hey, by the way,” he says, “I was gonna tell Taehyun about the time I put salt in your coffee.”

“...I know.” Your answer is short, clipped. You force your shoulders to relax—there’s no need to tense up when Jake Sim is around.

“Oh. Uh, okay then.” 

You don’t look at him, but you’re fairly certain he’s doing that thing he always does when he’s feeling awkward: A little rub of his thumb against the corner of his mouth. It’s a tic he’s always had, from the time you were in elementary school, and it isn’t any different now.

A stifling silence falls upon you both. You almost wish Taehyun and Gaeul were here, bringing Chaerin with them in tow. The three of them seemed to get along well; the chances of the five of you hanging out outside of college are high, now.

Of course, that also means you and Jake will have to pretend like everything’s alright between you both, and that your decades-long friendship wasn’t shattered by one single argument.

You round the corner to the staircase and begin the descent downwards. Jake holds onto the railing on the other side. Despite everything, you think Jake is the braver one between you two. 

He breaks the silence as easily as he broke your heart, and asks:

“Do you still take your macchiato with two packets of sugar?”

“Yeah,” you say softly.

#2. he wants to be friends again (why?)

You blame Kang Taehyun for this.

Of course he had to forget to pick up the pizza from the local restaurant before coming back to his place. Of course he didn’t check the weather forecast beforehand, and even if he did, of course he didn’t tell you it was going to rain. Of fucking course he asks you to pick up the food for him because your classes only ended at 4 and the get-together to celebrate the end of midterms was at 4:30.

If you had the power, you would curse your best friend to oblivion. You grip your phone in your hand, gritting your teeth and staring down at the screen.

Group Chat: the holy trinity of dumbasses 🤡 [16:12] You: it’s fukcing pouring here and i didnt bring my car [16:12] taehyun (mega asshole 🤬): *Fucking [16:13] You: yeah it’s something you’ve never done before [16:13] You: i have the pizza [16:13] You: come and pick me up or im throwing it in the dustbin. [16:14] gaeul 🤍: u shouldn’t waste food y/n >:( [16:14] taehyun (mega asshole 🤬): You’re making Gaeul cry >:( [16:14] gaeul 🤍: girl what [16:15] You: aw cute [16:15] You: seriously tho [16:16] You: come pick me up [16:17] taehyun (mega asshole 🤬): OK, I’m on my way [16:17] You: FUCKING FINALLY

The plastic bag with all the pizza boxes dangles off your wrist, cutting into your skin. The steps that lead to the inside of the restaurant are slick with rainwater. You open Instagram and scroll through your feed mindlessly, clicking on your classmates’ stories. 

You shiver. Rainy weather always makes the temperature drop by several degrees, and your flimsy jacket isn’t enough to drive away the chill. Forget Taehyun, maybe you should’ve checked the forecast instead. Sometimes (read: most of the time) you can be just as stupid as him. You wonder how Gaeul puts up with the single brain cell you and Taehyun toss between each other like a hot potato.

Honestly, you just want to go somewhere where it’s dry and warm.

Your phone vibrates in your hand, and it takes you a whole minute to comprehend the name that shows up on the caller ID.

Jake Sim.

Why is Jake Sim calling you?

You chew on your lip nervously before swiping your thumb up and accepting his call. Bringing your phone to your ear, you let the plastic bag sway gently. The line is silent for a few seconds, as though neither of you can comprehend the fact that you’re on a call with each other. It makes sense; this is the first time in months he’s calling you.

Finally, Jake’s voice crackles over the speaker. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“I’m outside. Can you see me?”

“I, uh.” You look around quickly. The parking lot in front of you is mostly empty, a good chunk of people having escaped the rain. It’s not hard to make out the solitary figure standing outside a beaten-down Toyota, holding an umbrella aloft. “Yeah, I see you.”

“Oh, good,” he says. “Do you have an umbrella?”

“Nope. Just… pizza.”

Jake makes a noise that sounds like a warbled chuckle. “Okay, I’m coming over there.”

“...Okay.”

For some strange reason, you don’t feel like ending the call. You fumble for something to say, because it’s weird just being on a call with someone you can literally see. The tug on your little finger as he comes closer to you makes a lump form in your throat. You take a deep breath and push it down into your stomach. 

“You haven’t changed your car,” you say lightly.

Jake hums, the sound so familiar it doesn’t even surprise you until you register it. “Can’t afford a new one. Plus, it works decently.”

He strides over to you, and it’s unnecessarily sexy—the way he holds the black umbrella up with one hand and his phone to his ear with the other. You can see the speckles of rain on his grey hoodie where the raindrops bounce off the ends of the umbrella. His hair is swept to the side, lips pink with chapstick. Another yank on your pinkie finger; you clench your fist.

“Please,” you snort. “The last time I was in it, it took twenty minutes to start the engine. That was a year ago, Jake.”

He’s closer now, nearing the steps. His eyes don’t leave yours. They trace over all your features, as though he’s committing you to memory—you, with your tangled hair and tired eye bags, chapped lips and dirty sneakers. You swallow.

He puts his phone down and speaks to you directly. “I think that was the driver’s fault. But don’t worry, I can drive better now.”

You let your hand drop limply to your side. 

“Hi,” Jake says.

“Hi again,” you manage to say.

“Here, let me take that.” He reaches out for the pizza bag, but you don’t give it to him.

“It’s fine. Just… hold up the umbrella and don’t get us wet.”

Jake laughs, a short, bright sound. “I won’t.”

You step towards him, quickly slipping underneath the shelter of the umbrella above your head. It’s a tight fit—one of your shoulders pokes out, as does one of his. You grimace when your sleeve gets splattered with rain.

Jake leads the way to his ancient car, scratched and scuffed with years of use. It was his dad’s old one, a gift for him on his seventeenth birthday, one that his mom had told you about to surprise him with. It seems like a bygone history now.

“I thought Taehyun was gonna come,” you comment.

Jake looks at you strangely. “I thought you asked for me to come pick you up.”

“I… did?” You gasp at the realisation. Kang Taehyun, that fucker. “I’m sorry,” you say awkwardly. “Taehyun probably told you that I was stuck in the rain.”

“He did,” Jake confirms. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. It’s not a problem at all.”

“Oh… okay, then.” Still, you feel guilty. Jake came all the way in the rain just because your best friend couldn’t stop being a meddling little nincompoop.

“Why wouldn’t I come?” Jake continues. His voice sounds deliberately casual. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“...Yeah. I guess.”

Jake stops near his car, fishing around in his pocket for the keys. “Look, I—I know things haven’t been the same lately, but I—” he licks his lips, another nervous tic of his— “I want you to know that I never stopped thinking of you as my best friend. Okay?”

You blink, sucking in a breath sharply. “I, um, yeah. Yeah, okay,” you say lamely.

Jake nods once, not meeting your eyes. “And for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’ve found friends like Gaeul and Taehyun. They’re good people.”

“So is Chaerin,” you say. “And so is Sunghoon.”

“Yeah,” he says, smiling faintly, unlocking the door. “And so are you.”

Sometimes, you wonder if Jake also feels a pull on his little finger. If he does, does he ever wonder where it’s from? Or does he not feel it at all? You bend your finger and shuffle into the passenger side of his car. He closes the door for you before crossing over to the other side and climbing into the driver’s seat.

Whatever the case is, one thing is for sure: Jake Sim is your soulmate, and even if he wasn’t, you’d still be in love with him.

Just like you were one year ago.

#3. his parents adore you (and so do you, but there’s always the yearning and the aching)

“Hey, mom and dad are asking when you’re gonna visit again.”

Jake swings into your periphery, putting his phone back in his pocket. His mom had called about fifteen minutes ago to make plans for Jake to go home over the weekend. Potentially, you could also go—your childhood home is right next to his. It’s been a while since you last visited; your little sister sends you texts about how much she misses you.

He sits down on the chair next to yours, looking at you expectantly. You’re at your favourite spot in the library, one that’s been designated as you and your friends’ table. Jake and Chaerin have been officially integrated into your tiny trio; Gaeul and Chaerin get along really well, and Taehyun and Jake follow the same sports teams. Occasionally, their other friend, Park Sunghoon, joins you but he’s very quiet and mostly keeps to himself.

You don’t look up from your laptop screen when you answer, “I’m not sure.”

“Huh. Mom says you’ve said that to your mom every time she asks.”

Things between you and Jake have reached a semblance of normalcy, too. It’s not the same as it used to be—it can never be the same as it used to be—but at least the pang you feel in your chest whenever he talks to you has dulled somewhat. 

“I’ve been busy,” you say vaguely. 

“Oh, c’mon,” Jake retorts. “Our midterms were over a week ago. What’re you waiting for?”

You don’t reply. He waits for a moment before saying, “I could drive you.”

That gets your full attention. Your gaze snaps to him, mouth pressed together. 

“I mean, we literally live right next to each other, Y/N,” he continues. “It’ll save gas. And the environment.”

You snort. “Your car is more of a hazard to the environment than us not carpooling is.”

“You don’t know how to drive,” he deadpans.

“That’s not true! I can drive, I just choose not to. Saving the environment and all.” You point an accusing finger at him. “If you really care about the environment, you should take the bus home with me.”

Jake shrugs loosely. “I don’t care how we go home, as long as you come with me. I’m sure your sister misses you too.”

There it is again: That easy, light way he says things. Nonchalant and unaffected—though it affects you more than it should.

“You’ll pay for the tickets?” 

Jake’s grin is golden. “If that’s what it takes.”

That’s how you find yourself crammed in between Jake Sim and an old auntie with a flower-patterned bandana, on the bus back to your hometown three days later. The auntie gives you and Jake a few cookies she’d packed for her grandchildren, and then promptly falls asleep on your shoulder (Jake couldn’t stop laughing for ten minutes when he saw the line of drool she’d left on your shirt sleeve). He offers you his own shoulder in case you want to sleep too; your cheeks heat up at the thought. It’s a bumpy ride, but after stopping at the bus stop nearest to your house, Flower Auntie sends you off with a few more cookies and a box of homemade kimchi, and you and Jake begin walking back to your neighbourhood.

Some things have changed—the playground is being renovated, your old elementary school is being repainted, the Kims who owned the local ramen shop retired and set the place up for rent. But at its heart, it’s all the same, you think. Kids still run around holding warm bungeoppang from street stalls and cartons of strawberry milk from the convenience store. Their mothers sit around and gossip about celebrities and complain about their husbands. People working corporate jobs curse under their breaths about their bosses and their unforgiving schedules. It’s late in the evening when you arrive, a bag containing all of Flower Auntie’s goodies hanging off Jake’s arm. All the local eateries are opening up for the dinner rush, drawing people in with the offer of free beer and soju for every meal purchased. 

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Jake says, a fond smile on his lips.

“Yeah,” you agree softly.

Despite everything, it’s still home.

The two of you cross the streets to your houses, sneakers slapping against the pavement. Several neighbours who’ve seen you both grow up call out and wave hello. You’re stopped by Mrs. Lee’s son, Heeseung, who makes you both promise to go out for dinner with him tomorrow. 

Finally, you stand in front of your childhood home. The rusted door and peeling-off paint greets you like a best friend. You shoulder your backpack and ring the doorbell, saying goodbye to Jake as he walks into his own house.

The door swings open—only to reveal Mrs. Sim standing at your doorway. Before you can voice your confusion, she pulls you into a tight hug, mumbling your name into your hair.

“Welcome home,” she says, moving aside and letting you in. “Your mother is in the kitchen. She’s just started making dinner.”

“Oh, okay.” You grin. “It’s great to see you, Mrs. Sim.”

“I swear you love Y/N more than me.”

You turn around and see Jake standing by the door, an affectionate look in his eyes. You direct your grin at him, too.

“Suck it up, loser.”

Jake’s guffaw rings in your ears even when your sister screams with unabashed joy as soon as she sees you.

#4. he broke your heart once (he could do it again)

You stare at the red thread wrapped around your finger. It’s dulled a bit now, compared to how it was a few years ago. Some of its shine is lost; it looks more opaque now. You crook your finger experimentally, knowing it's futile but still holding on to some hope that maybe Jake will feel it too.

To live for the hope of it all, as a wise song-writer once penned.

You startle when Jake sets a mug of coffee in front of you. His house is empty—your mother and Mrs. Sim went to buy groceries together and his father is out of the city on a business trip. Your sister is hanging out with her friends but told you to call her if you needed anything.

“Here you go,” Jake says, sitting down on the chair next to you. “Have some and then we can go buy some hangover soup.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, curling your fingers around the mug and savouring its warmth. The liquid inside is not too bitter, but not too sweet either—just how you like it.

“Feeling any better?”

You wince. Going out for dinner with Heeseung meant drinks were also attached. Being back in your hometown after weeks meant you had to check out all your favourite restaurants again and visit the ones that popped up after you left for college. The result: You swallowed down entirely too much soju, Heeseung and Jake had to physically carry you home, your head is killing you right now, and your embarrassment is at its peak.

When you woke up in the early afternoon to texts from your family members detailing their various absences, you reluctantly made your way out of your bedroom and to the Sims’ place. 

Which brings you here, perched on a chair at the Sims’ dining table, fiddling with your red string of fate, while the object of your thoughts sits right next to you.

“Yeah, a little,” you murmur in response to his question.

“Good.” Jake stretches his arms above his head, exposing a sliver of his midriff. You swallow. “Your alcohol tolerance is still the same.”

“Yours isn’t any better,” you counter. “You didn’t drink more than one bottle of soju.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You were counting?”

You huff, ignoring the warmth that spreads to your cheeks. “That’s not the point.”

“I’m just joking,” he says, bringing his hands back down. “I was kinda surprised Heeseung has a girlfriend now.”

You hum, taking another sip of your drink. Your head still pounds, but the caffeine is kicking in and making you more lively. It is strange, though, seeing your childhood friend settle down. Judging by the way he talks about her, he’s completely smitten. She’s my soulmate, he had said, and I don’t even believe in my thread.

The memory makes hurt bubble up inside your throat, so you chug the remaining liquid in the mug.

“It’s nice, though,” Jake continues, something… wistful crossing his face. “I wish I had someone like that.”

You look away, staring down at the ring of coffee left on the wooden table from your mug. “Yeah, I guess… Aren’t you dating Chaerin, though?”

You bite the bullet—what’s the point, anyway? There’s no use in dragging it out. Not when he clearly doesn’t know that his soulmate is sitting right next to him. You can deal with the hurt that comes with rejection later.

Jake stills. You glance at him—he tilts his head confusedly. “Chaerin? No… What makes you think that?”

“Everyone said you guys were dating,” you say with a small, uncertain shrug. 

“I mean…” He blinks. “We hooked up once, but that’s really it.”

It’s your turn to blink now, bemused. “Huh?”

“Yeah, we were drunk and it just sorta happened? I dunno,” he says sheepishly. “We didn’t remember any of it later, so we just agreed to remain friends. Plus, her soulmate is Sunghoon.”

“Wait, what?” Your teeth worry your bottom lip. Your mind is swirling with questions—was it possible that you had misread Jake Sim all this time?

“Yeah,” he says softly. “It’s no big deal.”

“...Oh. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed things,” you apologise quietly. Despite all this, his words make a swell of optimism rise in your chest.

He shrugs. “I, uh, wouldn’t blame you. We didn’t talk much after… after everything.”

“Yeah.” Your admission is soft, regret burning a hole in your tongue.

“So, um…” Jake trails off, looking unsure of himself. That’s a first, you realise with a start. He’s usually so calm and collected, even in the worst times. “Do you still feel the same as you did a year ago?”

You suck in a breath. “Why—why would you ask me something like that?”

“I—just curious.”

His eyes land on yours, beseeching and glorious. Even when he’s just woken up, he looks like he’s been dipped in the sun’s golden rays. Your heart hammers inside your chest.

“Wait, can I ask you something else? Why… did you reject me that night?”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you’re transported back to that fateful evening in July.

You stuttered the words out, and explained that you were in love with him, that you were pretty sure he was your soulmate, regardless of who your string was actually connected to. With every new sentence you tacked on, the emotion on Jake’s face vanished. Towards the end, you felt your face crumble.

He left you alone on the pavement, broken-hearted and lovesick.

Jake clears his throat awkwardly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come off so harsh on you that day.”

“I don’t care about that, Jake,” you say simply. “I just want to know why.”

“Because I was stupid. I didn’t believe in the soulmate bullshit, but I know you do. You’ve always been a hopeless romantic. I—” He licks his lips before continuing— “The truth is, Y/N, I really, really like you… But I didn’t want to hold you back from finding your true soulmate—whoever was on the other side of your string—’cause I know they’re gonna be the one for you.”

If you weren’t sitting already, you’re sure Jake’s confession would have swept you off your feet and you would be a bumbling mess on his dining room floor. Seeing the forlorn look on his face, you nearly crumble. How stupid your soulmate is. How kind and caring and selfless. 

“So I rejected you. I thought I wouldn’t be able to make you happy.” He pauses for a moment, his voice dropping. “It’s still the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.”

You finally find your voice. “Jake…”

He laughs somberly. “You probably think I’m an asshole.”

“I could never think that,” you say firmly. Your hand finds his on the tabletop, and he laces your fingers together, staring at your connected palms with awe.

“I do think you’re a little bit dumb, because I’ve liked you too since, like, forever—”

“Define forever,” he interrupts, not unkindly.

“Well—maybe since the time you surprised me with all the physical copies of that book series I wanted for my fifteenth birthday?”

“Then,” he says, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand, “I’ve loved you since before forever.”

A surprised laugh bursts out of your mouth. You feel a tug on your little finger as Jake moves his hand away from yours and cups your cheek with it instead. “I’ve also wanted to kiss you since before forever.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he confirms, drawing closer to you.

You lean forward and capture his lips with yours, running your tongue along his bottom lip. He parts his mouth with a sigh, tilting his head and deepening the kiss. His other free hand comes to rest on the nape of your neck; you wind your arms around his neck. The position is a bit cumbersome—the edge of the chair digs into your thigh, and he nearly knocks his elbow on the back of his chair—but his touch is searing hot, the welcome kind, the kind that makes you crave more and more and more.

“You promise you won’t do it again?” you ask later, out of breath and flushed.

“I promise,” he says, and he links his pinkie finger with yours to seal the deal.

The thread tied around it glows golden.

#5. he doesn’t even believe in soulmates (but he’ll try)

“You can’t see it?”

“I’ve told you a million times already,” Jake says patiently, “but I can’t.”

“How?” You look at him dubiously. “It’s literally a glowing golden thread connecting you and me.”

“I don’t need a thread to connect us,” your boyfriend quips. “I can think of better uses for a rope.”

You make a sound of disgust. “We’re at the library.”

Jake Sim grins at you, all bright and shining and vivid. “So?”

Taehyun lets out a pointed cough, typing on his laptop. “There are other people here,” he says, motioning to Gaeul, Chaerin and Sunghoon. All three of them are very obviously avoiding your gaze. Even the tips of Taehyun’s ears are pink. You stifle a giggle.

“Sorry,” Jake says, not sounding sorry at all. He picks up your hand again, thumb brushing against the knuckle of your little finger, right above the knot where the golden string is tied. He whispers to you, next, “I just don’t believe in it.”

“I know,” you say. “But you’re missing out on a lot.”

Jake hums. “I don’t believe in soulmates. But I believe in you.”

You roll your eyes, ready to chew him out for being a sappy romantic again, when his next words make your heart stutter.

“I think that’s good enough for me.”

[shiranuieditorial]

Japanese → English translation of an excerpt from an interview with MUCC lead vocalist Tatsurou (逹瑯):

A: Efforts to maintain relationships can feel somewhat negative, don’t you think? Essentially, it means that someone has to push themselves beyond their limits. I believe that in any relationship, there are moments when we must endure something for the sake of the other person; however, that endurance shouldn’t have to be an unbearable sacrifice. At most, it’s about saying, “I’ll hold back on this part of myself to support this aspect of you,” which is a more positive form of patience.

Q: I think it’s impossible to maintain a balance where everyone endures equally. But why do you think we manage to get so close to that ideal? It doesn’t seem like we’re diligently directing traffic, after all.

A: Indeed, it doesn’t appear that we’re directing traffic. Just… I don’t really understand it well myself, but surprisingly, even when I have to endure or feel stressed about something, I tend to forget it after a night’s sleep (laughs). It doesn’t completely vanish, but I find that I stop caring about it. My anger and frustration don’t last very long. So, I just think, “Well, whatever.” (laughs)

Q: The fact that you possess such a character is what makes you who you are, Tatsurou-san. I feel that this is one of the reasons for MUCC’s natural continuity.

A: I’m not entirely sure about myself; however, if I were the type who bottled things up and accumulated stress, I might have exploded at one of the other members at some point. If there had been even one member like that, things might have been different; but in reality, I see up close how everyone else is also struggling silently and doing their best without saying anything. For instance—Miya has an immense workload in terms of music, so, I imagine he must be going through a lot as well. Thus, even if there are moments when I think, “Wow!” I also think, “Well, it can’t be helped.” Because of this understanding, I don’t feel the need to complain.

Q: All four of you share a positive sense of “It can’t be helped” towards each other. Moreover, the parts where you play “MUCC’s Tatsurou” or “MUCC’s Miya” are quite minimal.

A: Yes. Also, for example, in the case of vocalists from other bands, they might have many invisible tasks to handle; however, in my case, I don’t often think “It’s unfair that I’m doing all the work while everyone else is slacking off.” Since I chose this position, I think it can’t be helped. Ultimately, despite everything, I believe we maintain a balance. When watching the rhythm section during individual practice before recording sessions, they seem to be under considerable pressure; they start recording much earlier than me and need to prepare quickly. Seeing everyone creating backing tracks in the studio looks incredibly demanding; plus, since our leader can be quite strict, they’re probably feeling overwhelmed (laughs). Of course, my own lyric writing can also become quite demanding later on; however, in that sense, everyone experiences similar levels of hardship. It feels like everything balances out in some way.

Image alt text for the original Japanese article:

係を保つための努力って、なんかネガティブじゃないですか。 それはつまり誰かが無理をするってことだし。 お互い、人間関係のためになにかしらの我慢をする部分というのはあると思うけど、それは我慢しきれない我慢ではないというか。 せいぜいそれは「相手のこういうところを立ててあげるために、自分のここは我慢よう」みたいなポジティブな我慢じゃないかと思うから。

———全員が公平に我慢する、というバランスを保つことも不可能だと思うんです。 だけどそれにすごく近いことができているのはなぜだと思います？ 一生懸命に交通整理しているようにも見えないし。

たしかに交通整理はしてないですね。 ただ。 。 。 。 。 。 よくわかんないけど、俺ね、意外と、我慢したりとか、ストレスたまるようなことがあっても、ひと晚経つと忘れちゃうんですよ（笑）。 ホントにきれいに消えちゃうわけじゃないんだけど、どうでも良くなってしまう。 怒りとかモヤモヤとかが、そんなに持続しないんで。 だから、ま、いいやって（笑）。

———その性格の持ち主が達瑯さんである、ということ。 それがムックの自然な継続の一因でもあるような気がします。

自分ではよくわかんないけど。 ただ、俺が結構我慢しちゃってストレスをため込むようなタイプだったりしたら、それが爆発したときにメンバーの誰かにあたってたかもしれないとは思う。 俺にかぎらず、1人でもそういうメンバーがいたら違ってたかもしれない。 だけど実際には「こいつも大变なのに、なにも言わずにがんばってるしなあ」というのを間近で見てるから。 それこそミヤも音楽的な意味での仕事量がすごく多いから、大变だろうなと思うし。 だからなんか「うわっ！」う思うことがあったとしても「ま、しょうがねえか」う思うし。 そこで文句を言おうとも思わないから、別に。

———4人全員がお互いに対してポジティブな意味での「しようがない」という感情を持っている。 しかも「ム��クの達瑯」とか「ムックのミヤ」というものを演じている部分がきわめて小さいというか。

うん。 あと、たとえばほかのバンドのボーカルの場合、目に見えない仕事が多いんじゃないかと思うんですよ。 だけど俺の場合「俺ばっか仕事で、みんなズルいよ」と思うこともそんなにないし。 このポジションを選んだ以上、しょうがないと思うし。 やっぱ、なんだかんだでバランスがとれてると思うんですよね。 リズム隊とかを見てても、レコーディング前の個人練習とかで詰めてるのを見てると、やっぱり大变そうだなあとか思うし。やっぱ俺なんかよりもみんな、ずっと早くからレコーディングがはじまるわけで、準備にも早く取りかからないといけないわけで。みんながスタジオでオケ作ったりしてるのを見てると、いかにも大变そうだし、しかもリーダーがスパルタだから、ヒーヒー言ってる部分もあるし（笑）。ま、俺も俺で作詞とかがあとから大变だったりはするんだけど、そういう意味では、ある種みんな同程度にしんどいというか、帳尻が合ってるというか。そういうところも確実にあるんで。

[dylsluvrs]

JUJUTSU KAISEN CHARACTERS AS LOVE LANGUAGES

౨ৎ SATORU GOJO AS … gift giving

satoru is a very rich man, so naturally he spares no expense when it comes to spoiling you. he’s the only one of his clan left, and of course you’re his wife, future mother of his children, and mother to his current children (the students). he’s away on missions a lot, and can’t spend half as much of the time he’d like to by your side, so he resorts to showing his love with gifts. whether it be an outfit you had your eye on when you were shopping together, or a bouquet of flowers to spruce up your shared kitchen, satoru is getting it for you. he pays attention to anything to even look at, and best believe you’ll have it.

౨ৎ MEGUMI FUSHIGURO AS … quality time

megumi is not a very affectionate person, and he’s naturally quiet by nature, which rules out physical touch and words of affirmation. he hates that he can’t give you the affection he believes you need, so the best he can do is give you all his free time, no matter how tired he is from training and missions. you know megumi better than you know yourself, and the two of you love just sitting in silence together, reading books or just simply existing with one another. you’re often interrupted by nobara and yuuji wanting to join in on the ‘fun’, but you two always have some much needed alone time, basking in each others presence.

౨ৎ YUUJI ITADORI AS … physical touch

yuuji is hyperactive, always running around like a chicken missing a head, and he often projects his buzzing energy onto you. he loves being around you, always having to be touching you in some way. whether he’s holding your hand while you’re wandering the halls of the school, or you’re cuddled into his side while he forces you to watch one of the many human earthworm movies, he has a hand on you. he loves kissing you, running away from training while gojo has his back turned just for an impromptu makeout session before he has to go away for a mission. this boy is obsessed with touching you at all times.

౨ৎ TAKUMA INO AS … words of affirmation

takuma is a very sweet boy. he loves you with his entire heart and he makes sure you know it. whether he’s telling you how beautiful you are while you sit in the morning sun, reading a book in the corner of his office, or he’s telling you how much he misses you over the phone while he’s away on a mission. you’re always very aware that takuma loves you. not only is he giving you constant reassurance, but he makes sure everyone else knows it too. nanami probably knows more than he wishes to know about your relationship with takuma, but he’s eternally grateful to you for pushing him to be his absolute best (and he loves the extra meals you prep for him when you’re feeding takuma). you’re his pride and joy, and he’ll never let you forget it.

౨ৎ KENTO NANAMI AS … acts of service

kento is a stoic man, and affection doesn’t come as easily to him as it does to you, so he opts for servicing you as his way of showing his love. he’s always down on one knee, fixing the strap of your heels for you. or he’s in the kitchen, pink apron you bought him strapped over his suit as he bakes fresh bread for you to enjoy because he knows how much you love the smell of it. he is always looking out for you. he fixes your car up when you need it, looks over your paperwork before you hand it to ijichi just to calm your nerves (even if he already knows it’s perfect.) kento believes he simply exists to be your husband. he’s at your beck and call, even when he’s away. there’s always meals prepped in the fridge for you, and laundry is always done. he loves you, and he’d do anything for you.

[the5thelement]

Literally have had zero energy since March 😭

Speaking of, I went to my follow up with my primary the other day, they said my labs were okay. I asked about going to a rheumatologist and he said they take a year to get in and really only deal with auto immune disease… ( uhh I fucking donated blood and woke up the next day and for 9 months have been a god damn fucking zombie with crazy tachycardia, if that doesn’t seem like some kind of auto immune reaction i don’t know what does.) I asked him so they would do anything different to test or rule anything out than we’re doing here. He said let’s follow up with the cardiologist and do that follow up sleep study and you already have the follow up with the endocrinologist and you need a new obgyn. I said yeah sure but are you diagnosing me with pots then? He said no i wouldn’t diagnose you with that now. I said okay so are we going to do more tests to diagnose it or rule it out? because I can’t live like this and not know what is the reason. Then I explained that you just told me my kidney functions were fine but sometimes when I urinate I’ll feel a pulsing or squeezing feeling in my lower back. He asked me about pain and I said I can’t express enough how I was in such severe pain for most of my life that after my surgery I don’t really register anything now as painful. I said I can’t say it’s painful because it’s not bad compared to what I just casually lived with everyday for 20years but I feel something there that’s not typically there. He said well even if you had kidney stones you wouldn’t feel pain until it passes into the ureters… then never fucking was like maybe we can get ultrasound to make sure there are no stones.

I texted one of my sisters that night and explained what happened. She’s my #1 support when it comes to anything medical. As I’m texting with her I’m on the verge of crying because I’m so frustrated and then she calls. So I take a breath and answer the phone but couldn’t get the words out. She was like helloooo and I managed to squeak out the word hi, clearly upset. Her voice immediately cracks also saying oh Katelyn I’m so sorry. Which made me just full blown cry at this point. She called so she could explain what she just had to go through at her daughters doctors and forcing them to run extra tests. So she told me to get a copy of every single one of my medical reports and when I go visit her we’ll go through everything and find me a functional medicine doctor which of course fucking insurance doesn’t cover but they usually will actually find out what the fuck is wrong and causing issues and not just treat random symptoms as they happen. My whole life I’ve push my doctors to do anything for me, I literally walked in to my ob and diagnosed myself when I was 27. The start of the year I was in the best shape of my life mentality, physically, emotionally, and so hopeful and excited to live my life again, then I donated blood and this happened. I just don’t have the fight in me anymore to do it all by myself. I didn’t realize how much I was desperate for that support and guidance until she offered it. I’ve never asked anyone for help like this before, I didn’t have to ask her and just knowing she’ll help me figure this out gives me hope again. She’s been supportive of me this whole time but in smaller ways like checking in and finding research articles. I’ve never really broken down about it to anyone. As soon as she heard my voice crack saying hi she immediately said we’re doing this together now, you give me all of your charts and I’ll go through them, if you need me on the phone at all your future appointments I’ll do that no matter what. We’ll figure this out together. I really wish she lived as close as my other siblings but even across the country she’s always been the most supportive of me and I am beyond grateful to have a sister like her. 🥹

i am supposed to have the energy… to do stuff...?

[arcanarix]

Make That Double, Ch10 - Yan!SatoSugu X Fem!Reader [AO3]

❥ Word Count: ~7.8K

❥ Warnings: non-con, rimming (m. receiving btwn stsg), double piv penetration, lactation kink (w/ geto), mommy kink (w/ geto), fingering (f. receiving), cunnilingus, pussy slapping

❥ Summary: Double the trouble, or double the fun? Difficult to say when you're unfortunately roped into the affairs of two powerful shamans who can't leave each other alone, either.

Lately, activity has picked up quite a bit for Geto and his goons. He’s had to be absent for longer stretches of time, which gives you more time to plot. You do have the incantation and the instructions memorized by heart that Miguel has given you, and during times which he remains behind, he has coached you through a bit of the technique he’s embedded into your necklace, which is actually something called a cursed tool.

Much of this world is still unknown to you, even with the briefings Miguel has been kind enough to give you—hopefully without any of Geto’s curse spirits monitoring, but according to Miguel, most of the time they’ve had a green light on all of this.

“Initially, Geto instructed me to make it so that when you wear that necklace, it binds him to you,” he explains to you one day when Geto had been out of the city to take care of some urgent matters that you don’t care to know the details about. “It also grants you the ability to see curses, but I’d imagine he hasn’t released any around you since he hasn’t felt the need to…”

You interject, “No, actually. I… I tried to pull some things before and I saw some barely there blobs trying to prevent me from trying anything. So yeah, while my perception of curse spirits aren’t strong, I know that they’re around me all the time. Geto must keep some around to make sure I’m not up to anything that might hurt me. Before you ask, I don’t sense or feel any around me now but I figure you already picked up on that.”

Miguel doesn’t need you to elaborate, thankfully. He grunts in response, adjusting his scarf.

“Trust me, you’re not going to be stuck here for much longer. Not going to even lie to you, I’m pretty worried about Geto. Since the last family meeting, he’s been a bit…”

“A bit what?” you ask, furrowing your brows as you beckon him to specify.

“…out of character, I suppose. Have you noticed him moving differently at all?” Miguel crosses his arms over his broad chest and stares you down, waiting for a direct answer.

You think hard for a moment. Sure, he’s been a lot more hands off especially lately. He has lasted way longer than he had before. He keeps his promise of Satoru not touching you, and instead they remain focused on each other, and you’re allowed to mind your own business unless Geto requests for you to try something—gently, actually. Surprisingly gently. He doesn’t seem angry or disappointed when you refuse anything you’re not ready for, and he doesn’t even try to manipulate or charm you into it like he had in the beginning.

“…Actually yes, but I didn’t think too much of it. Just thought it was another way for him to try to get his way with me.”

Miguel draws out a sigh. “Well, there you go. Geto’s a principled guy. He doesn’t shift his gears at the drop of a hat, so either he’s thrown in the towel or something else is going on that even I can’t understand.”

What the literal fuck does that mean?

“That doesn’t…I’m sorry. I don’t think I get it. He’s still…you know. Himself.”

“You sure about that?” Miguel challenges, dark eyes boring into yours, almost like he’s piercing through your very soul. “Because had I not known any better, he gave himself up the minute he let you into his life. Of course I could be wrong.”

You chew on your lower lip, considering.

“What makes you so certain I shouldn’t take this, his motivations, at face value?”

“It’s like I told you, Miss …. He’s a principled guy. The minute he let you into his life is the minute he realized the inevitable.”

Oh whoop dee doo. More cryptic bullshit. Should you pry anymore?

“I see,” you reply, shifting in your spot. “Thank you, Miguel. For everything. I just hope that I can pull this off.”

“The chances of things working out for ya are slim, Miss …, but not zero.”

Geto seems a little distracted by something as he shuffles around the bedroom, preparing a change of clothes for the night. Perhaps it has something to do with what you overheard in a meeting you aren’t supposed to be around for and had it not been Miguel who caught you eavesdropping you likely would have been reprimanded or punished or something else right now.

But Geto doesn’t appear suspicious of you even now. You remain seated on the bed, completely bare. You feel comforted by the silk sheets against your skin as you clutch it tight toward your body. You slowly breathe out, trying to relax your nerves as much as you can around him.

You jump in your spot as he stands at the foot of the bed before kneeling to you. He’s disrobed, tied his long, luscious locks into that tight bun. He looks shockingly unthreatening, but you know better.

“I fear things may become a bit…messier in these next two or so years,” he sighs, and even you can see something must be weighing on his shoulders—what is his plan with the Night Parade? Does it matter? "I’m not sure how much longer there’s going to be.”

He joins you on the bed, and you shift in your spot, supporting your back against the headboard as you cast him a curious look. He leans into you, resting his head into the crook of your neck, breathing deeply, willing himself to relax. You grunt a bit from the added weight. He may appear skinny but he does maintain quite a bit of muscle and it’s evident in when he carries you.

“I need you,” Geto murmurs into your skin. His arms cage around the dip of your waist and you squeeze your eyes shut, biting back a sigh. God, you’re so fucking tired of this bullshit. No one’s meant to live like this, and he expects you to smile and fucking bear it.

You know, you’ve just gotten used to the idea that Geto isn’t initiating much intimacy anymore. All in an effort for you to warm up to the idea of a future with him and with the twins. But it’s not working for you, and he realizes that maybe his efforts are in vain and it all means he can still take advantage of you. While you have accumulated quite a number of small wins, you know they aren’t going to last forever. They’re fleeting, at best.

“What is it that you need, darling? Use your words.” Gods every time this feels so gross yet you don’t really have a say in that, don’t you? Even if Geto has given you a little more room for some illusion of agency you know not to let it get to your head. You snap off your bra and push out your breasts, presenting one of your stiff nipples to him.

“I need you,” he repeats, practically panting at the sight, running his tongue over his lips a few times.

Geto’s mouth hangs open a bit, his cheeks flushed, he’s been craving this for some time and you can tell. He’s kept his hands off for far longer than before, and maybe with the recent developments that you only inadvertently hear about (and by extension don’t confront Geto over because you learned your lesson the last time), you don’t protest and are a bit more receptive to what he wants. Relationships are give and take… even if he does basically all of the ‘taking’ in this particular brand of it.

His lips latch onto your bud, and you already feel the milk rushing out of your tit and spilling into his waiting tongue. He groans in delight as your sweet milk tickles his taste buds in the best way and one of his hands moves to fondle your unoccupied tit, his finger flicking the other bud to stiffness and pinching it playfully, making you inhale sharply. He laughs at your reaction; the dietary plan he’s put you on isn’t all that restrictive but he has mentioned the particular ingredients like fennel seeds, for instance, aids in producing more milk. The meds further stimulate the production and you’re more than certain some of the formula for all of this may have been imbued with that ‘cursed energy’ you hear and Gojo babble on to with each other on more than one occasion.

The glorbs every time he sucks up your milk like a suction are so audible and fucking disgusting each time. But he wants to be taken care of, that’s fine. You can do that. More like you have to do that. Your fingers scratch at his scalp, and he purrs, seeming to like that. He nips at your nipple in response and you whimper from the sharp contact. His tongue laves around the sensitive skin, and you moan low, not realizing how flushed and debauched you are yourself.

“Sugu…ru…” your voice is a bit strained but he hums in response, playfully flicking the tip of his tongue against the bud he just finished feeding off of before his mouth latched onto the other nipple. He takes both his hands and squeezes the large mounds of squishy flesh and you wriggle beneath the weight of his body. He growls like it’s a warning, sucking harder on your nipple like he needs it to survive and it might not be too far off the mark considering the recent developments. You feel something wet pooling in your groin and you know the sheets must be lightly damp by now and you aren’t ashamed of it anymore, more like on the path to true acceptance. Because it’s not going to be much longer. You’re so certain of it; soon you’re going to be free of this humiliation, and Geto can die alone and pathetic like he’s been destined to.

Your fingers dig tightly into the sheets when Geto sucks a bit harder, his wet muscle flicking off the droplets of milk that have gone astray. His lips trail between your plump mounds, feathery light but worshipping every bit of skin they touch. He stops, nips at your soft skin before lapping his tongue against the sore spot, leaving a few more marks behind. He trails down your stomach, peppering soft kisses there.

“Mamma,” his voice rumbles like a lion’s roar. “You’re so perfect for me.”

“I’m happy I make you happy, darling,” you manage to say, clamping your hand over your mouth to conceal an embarrassed shriek when you feel his tongue twist between your folds. Your body shivers and you feel a little dazed. At this point Geto knows how to make you feel good, knows how to make this not all that awful and you hate that so much. You hate that someone you loathe with everything you have has this kind of power over you.

“You make me feel the most alive I’ve ever felt,” he mumbles as his tongue laves around your sensitive core, the tip flicking against your stiff clit. “I want you to marry me.”

You don’t want to. You don’t, yet you know that even if you do, you still have a shot at getting the fuck out of there. Should you just… give in for now? Let him have another win?

Is it going to make a difference in the end? Even you admit you have your doubts. When Miguel explains the technique he’s used on your insignia, he says that there is still a chance for it to fail. In fact that there’s a higher chance for it to fail than succeed which is why you need to use it wisely. Maybe on another occasion when Geto fucks off with Gojo for a while.

A chance for it to fail doesn’t mean your success rate is completely 0. Just remember that.

“But Suguru…” you start to protest, but he cuts you off by shushing you harshly.

“Marry me and make this blasted world worth living in again,” he interjects while sucking on your folds, and your legs tremble, instinctively tightening around his shoulders. His hands rest against your fleshy thighs, massaging you gently. The wet noises from your pussy seem to echo in the bedroom, and your cheeks dust pink from more embarrassment. Even if you don’t have any potential witnesses this is so humiliating.

“But… Suguru, I…m not… ready…” you babble, you try to play up your role, but a response is a harsh slap on your pussy, making you weep a little. “Please, I just…”

Geto hushes you while twirling his tongue around your stiff clit, before closing his lips around it and sucking hard. Your heart is pounding so hard you feel like it’s going to burst out of your chest. Your body is clammy and sweaty and more heat pools in your groin and stomach.

“You,” he grunts, dragging his tongue down your spongy skin. “Are the only reason for me to tolerate a life like this. So marry me, Mamma.”

No.

He spits onto your pussy and dips his tongue into your hole, his eyes rolling upward to enjoy your debauched state.

“It’s not a request,” he growls low between lapping his tongue up and down your pussy. You feel like you’re floating in air; you hate that he knows how to make your body feel all kinds of euphoria when in reality you feel anything but around him. Your breathing is already labored and ragged, and that self-assured smirk on his face makes your face go red from both fury and arousal.

“Suguru…!” you shout, tightening your legs around his neck.

You see stars behind your eyes when you come, the sensation practically dizzying and you’re glad you’re grounded by the bed. Geto reacts with a string of dark chuckles, so condescending, so maddening. Your eyes peer up to meet his, piercing, twinkling from triumph.

He grins down at you, his hands still ok the fleshy parts of your thighs as he presses affectionate kisses between them. Your brain might short circuit and definitely not for the reasons Geto hopes.

He drags you down until you’re at his level, his body tenting over yours like a shield from the world. Like he wants to protect you from the horrors of it, but doesn’t he understand that all the horrors you have faced at all are all because of him?

He hasn’t even broken a sweat himself, leaning in to press his forehead against yours, syncing his breathing with yours. You try to appreciate the stillness of the moment before he decides you don’t deserve any time to breathe, but he seems pushy about the marriage bit.

His hands on your thighs adjust them so they hook around his hips. You whimper. You know what comes next.

“Marry me,” he murmurs again as his lips ghost over yours. “Please.”

No.

“Okay,” you reply weakly, squeezing your eyes shut as his lips finally meet yours, ravishing them. You don’t really kiss back but your mind drifts off to when you desired being kissed passionately like this, with someone you genuinely love and who genuinely loves you. Maybe Geto believes he’s in love with you, but it can’t be true.

“I love you,” he drawls against your lips, pulling away for a moment to slip on a condom.

Maybe he believes that he loves you. It’s fine if he does but you know you never will. His lips find the crook of your neck as his cock breaches your hole, and your throat tightens as you fight back another whine.

“No,” he commands with a yell, nipping against yours jaw. “Let me hear you, Mamma.”

“Suguru…” you reply in a weaker tone, and he growls in disapproval, sharply bucking his hips. His whole body is coated in sweat and some of his hair clings to his forehead and around his cheeks. Even in this state, he looks something akin to a powerful deity.

“Suguru!” you cry, arching your back into the mattress.

“Better,” he purrs into your skin, before licking along your neck and throat. “I want to hear more of your lovely sounds. We must commemorate today. You’re mine for the rest of our lives.”

No. You aren’t. You never will be.

“Suguru, please, I—!” You’re cut off with a kiss; he refuses to hear another word out of you now (unless it’s a preferred response). His tongue twirls around yours as each languid, smooth roll of his hips slides his length just a bit deeper inside. You feel the tip of his cock brush against it and you whine into his lips, hands sliding down his sides which makes him the one shuddering all over now.

It’s over before you know it; your walls clenching around his length and he keeps pumping inside you without stopping for a breath. His lips remain locked on yours; your fingers sink into his muscled skin and you swear your body might give out but he refuses to let up the erratic pace.

He pulls away just slightly, purring into your mouth.

“You are perfect for me, Mamma.”

You wish you could agree. But you do admit, from your focal point, the way his hair falls over his face and perfectly frames his sharp features makes him look like something from the Heavens. The way his eyes soften looking down at you, and not even with a hint of condescension, it’s… different. Whatever must run through his mind, it can’t be good, and it can’t add up for you. If he’s convinced that he’s in love with you, then you can’t change that. But you can work with it.

He doesn’t pull out for a while, just taking the time to feel you around him. To feel himself inside you. He sighs in content, resting his head between your breasts drenched in his spit, your sweat, and splotched of milk that he gladly licks up without so much as a second thought before lifting himself back up to flash a little smirk at you.

But even his smirk seems off. It doesn’t carry the same energy of someone who knows they have taken you away from everything for their personal amusement.

And you find yourself wondering what Miguel might mean by Geto officially surrendering to his fate.

Your hand reaches up to cup his face, brushing some of his fringes behind his ear. He is a breathtaking man. A devil with the face of an angel—isn’t that why demons make themselves appear angelic? To lure victims into a sense of security?

He leans into your touch, kissing the palm of your hand. His forehead scrunches a bit as he relishes in how your walls still feel like they’re pulsating around his cock, a few aftershocks from your orgasm.

“I need more,” he says, peppering little kisses around your face down to your collarbone.

“Suguru,” you reply, your hand dragging down to the crook of his neck. “Let’s rest for a bit. You seem tired, darling. Something’s troubling you.”

“You don’t have to worry about it,” he replies between more heated kisses. “It’s politics. Between our worlds. It doesn’t concern you.”

“You keep saying things like that, darling, but don’t you just…”

“Just what?” he beckons.

“Don’t you need someone to actually…talk to?” You can’t believe what you’re doing here; didn’t you just say you learned your lesson the last time you tried to meddle into business that had nothing to do with you?

His eyebrows furrow at that. Obviously you’re in no position to ask such things of him. But it’s more of a push in the right direction, a suggestion. Nothing more. He doesn’t have to agree with you.

“Won’t change anything,” he says after a period of reflection. “I appreciate that you’re trying, my love. But your role is with the twins and I, separate from all of that. You’re with your family here.”

You will NEVER be family.

Delightfully oblivious as ever to your own wars clashing in your mind, Geto kisses your lips again. Slow. Gentle. Passionate. Like he really believes he loves you.

The kiss grows more heated again, and sometime during he’s finally pulled out, he didn’t even come, his cock still painfully hard and standing erect wrapped in that condom. This is the first time he hasn’t chased after his own pleasure once he took care of you. This time he seems fully devoted to pleasing you, making you satisfied.

He bites, nibbles your lips and moans like an actor in a lewd video into your lips that have become cracked and red and swollen from his treatment.

“Suguru…?” you manage to utter between each kiss, each one more desperate than the last.

Geto moans your name, low and needy.

“I love you,” he confesses again, “I love you.”

You find yourself unable to say it back, but you don’t get a chance to say a word anyway; his lips meet yours again. You find yourself trying to return it, at least be a little responsive or reactive, try to keep him unsuspecting for a while longer. Even if you know he carries all of his monsters or apparitions with him whenever he’s gone for longer stretches of time, you can’t help but fear the slightest chance that he has someone—or something—keeping an eye on you even if Miguel or Suda insist that they would have known all along.

You can’t afford anymore fuck-ups. You can’t fuck up your chances again.

Finding time to spare for Satoru has become increasingly more difficult. With Yaga practically on Satoru’s ass 24/7, he can’t exactly make quick pit stops to the temple anymore. They have had to find compromise somewhere, so Geto has been back to visiting his penthouse.

Even if logically nothing can be done should Gojo not follow direct orders from the higher-ups, he still can’t afford more penalties, and Geto can’t afford to raise any more suspicion from the long stretches of time he’s been hiding away from his own duties. Just for a few moments with the love of his life.

“Are you sure about this?” Gojo asks, intertwining his fingers with Geto’s as they lounge in his king sized mattress. Sure, Geto may have excused these longer absences of his own as part of his duty but it’s in reality to stay a while longer with Gojo. Gojo’s the one feeling like a burden now, but Geto won’t have it much like Gojo won’t have it every time Geto talks down on himself and how much he means to Gojo. Can’t go around being a hypocrite, right? “It’s a big step, you know! I’ve always expected you’re going to marry someone as sexy and perfect as her. I mean, I was hoping it’d be me but I understand we can’t necessarily given the situation here.”

Geto rolls his eyes a little in jest at that last comment. Of course, in Geto’s world, they’re already married, practically inseparable, but Gojo has his world, and Geto has his. And they have to act as if they don’t interlock their bodies like rabid, mating animals between everything that’s going on.

“Yes,” Geto answers, kissing into his shoulder. Gojo sighs dreamily at the contact, snuggling closer to his lover. “I’m marrying her.”

“That’s great,” Gojo replies, but there’s an underlying hint of longing in his tone. “But how does she feel?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Geto quips as he trails more kisses along Gojo’s exposed, sweaty skin, humming at the salty tang hitting his tongue. “Isn’t this what you wanted for me, Gojo? Her being here gives me more of a reason to tolerate a life like this.”

Gojo can’t help but scoff at that sentiment, eyes flickering with something akin to envy.

“So what, I’m not enough?” he mutters like a stubborn child. Geto rolls his eyes again.

“Baby, look at me—“ Gojo does, “—Of course you are,” Geto counters, pecking his lips for good measure. “You know what I mean.”

“I know,” Gojo replies with a longing sigh. He accepts another kiss, unable to hide the smile playing on his lips in spite of how much he feels like he’s going to miss out. “I’m sorry.”

Geto hums in response before capturing his lips again in another fervent kiss, a hand snaking down his chest to draw lazy patterns across one of his pecs. Gojo sighs again in that dreamy way, completely putty in Geto’s hands and he’s unashamed of it whatsoever. Geto is the love of his life, his one and only, and Geto feels the same except now there’s someone else thrown in the mix that they can both have fun with too.

“You’re always my forever, Satoru,” Geto swears in a whisper, his tone tender—a side to him only Gojo gets to witness. “We just have other matters to sort through now.”

Geto playfully pinches one of Gojo’s nipples and that draws a gasp from his lips, and Geto laughs heartedly, dragging his tongue along the defined lines of his muscles. Gojo brushes his long, slender fingers through Geto’s endless locks of soft hair, and Geto purrs in approval.

“I do really miss Princess, you know…” Gojo points out with that grin widening and brightening his previously sullen and worn features.

“Then come by sometime before the ceremony,” Geto suggests, “We must commemorate the occasion, don’t you think?” Geto insists with a knowing expression as he rests his chin on Gojo’s strong chest.

“Of course,” Gojo answers, that grin still plastered on his face like it’s been sewn on there. A little glint in his azure eyes suggests something a bit… worse, like there’s something else he’s plotting.

While Geto’s still off visiting Satoru, you’re still left with little time to plot your escape plan when you have to attend to the twins the majority of his absence. Both Miguel and Suda have found ways to pull you aside to give you a pointer or two but they know they don’t want to make things more suspicious to the twins but they seem so lost in their own universes you doubt it’s going to be much of an issue.

But a part of you also knows not to underestimate anything. A part of you still tries to amplify your perception of curse spirits but you don’t detect any around you at this point in time. No matter what you’re doing, whether you’re accompanying the girls during their video game sessions or when they want to opt for something else. Or when they want to go out and about—not without one of Geto’s loyal goons keeping a close eye on you while you take the twins out of the temple. You do try to see if you can pick up any during any outings with them but you have failed each time. The most you can make out are outlines of spirits, but Nanako and Mimiko has exorcised them before you can react.

That’s where you learn a bit more about what they can do. Mimiko can manipulate with that doll she carries around with her everywhere. Meanwhile, you understand why Nanako is attached to a camera—she can manipulate curse spirits through photos. You don’t understand what any of this means, but it’s interesting to watch. Even if you don’t understand the full extent of what happens in front of you just yet.

Miguel has mentioned during one of his limited coaching sessions that the first step to being a sorcerer at all is being able to perceive curses. Yet you have failed spectacularly at that part. It’s true that kids and animals are the most sensitive to their presence, and you might have recalled sensing spirits like the Hat Man or the Smiling Man from popular lore.

“All curses are human-born,” he remember him explaining to you one day. “They develop through the negative emotions of humans. That’s why we often hear that most of our struggles are self-made. It’s true, isn’t it, given what we h ave to deal with, huh? Being a sorcerer is a thankless job and often seen as a bunch of hooey to those monkeys. Let’s just say it’s worse in the more rural areas, where people like me and the twins came from.”

“I can only imagine,” you find yourself mumbling in response. “This must take a lot of self-control to master.”

“That’s one way to look at it,” he concedes with a nod. “But manipulating and controlling your cursed energy—something everyone has, sorcerer or not—takes mostly a deeply innate ability. Some people are just gifted at that stuff. Like Geto or that Satoru Gojo punk. They’re the best a small world like ours has to offer.”

“So I’ve been told,” you mutter to yourself.

Miguel rests a reassuring hand on your shoulder, flashing you a smirk. “Listen, Miss …. Just remember you do have backup in case things go awry. I can’t guarantee we won’t get caught, but don’t worry about us when that happens. You need to get out of here. You don’t belong here.”

You can’t help smiling.

“I’m so glad you’re deciding to help me get the hell out of here,” you breathe, “I just can’t help but wonder why.”

Miguel gives you a non-committal hum.

“You just seem like someone worth sticking out for,” he replies, “But honestly, I don’t really have a good reason behind it. Seeing someone like you, someone who was probably minding your own damn business before all of this, going through what you are… just doesn’t sit right with me. I’m not claiming to be good, like I told you before.”

“Thank you,” you tell him again. He returns your smile.

“No need, Miss ….”

“Princess!” Gojo exclaims with glee riddled all over his expression as he climbs down the stairs to greet you. “Congratulations on your engagement. It was going to happen sooner or later.”

He strides up to you, cups your face and greets you with a long smack of his lips against yours before approaching Geto and doing the same. Geto secures a possessive hold around Gojo’s hips so he doesn’t pull entirely away from him and it doesn’t seem like Gojo’s protesting, anyway. When Geto twists his neck to face you, your face falls upon realization. You know that look.

That can’t be good news for you, but when do you ever have good options between them?

“My love, can you make this final exception for the sake of celebration? Satoru does want to wish us well, you know,” Geto scoots you closer into him, his lips against your ear. “After that, he doesn’t have to touch you again, but you can do whatever you like.”

“But Suguru,” you begin, before eyeballing Satoru who’s waiting beside you with eagerness evident in those sharp oceanic eyes, deeply unsettling the longer you stare at them. Something about Satoru aside from the obvious seems… off-putting. You can’t place what it is, but you know you have heard many of Geto’s goons refer to him as some kind of God in the world of jujutsu sorcery. But he’s far from a merciful God, or even a good one.

But you do remember what Miguel says about that—that they’re sorcerers, not saints. They don’t claim to be good or right in whatever they do, and this holds true for both Geto and Gojo.

Gojo bounces his leg out of impatience, meeting your gaze full of hope and passion. He has missed having the agency to touch you, to do as he pleases…

“Please, my love,” Suguru pleads with a little growl, his hand reaching out to you and brushing his finger along the chain around your neck, jingling a bit as it moves. “Just this once. I won’t request this again another time.”

You don’t believe that in the slightest, yet you know you might not be here for much longer than you have to be. You cling onto that hope that whatever you plot with Miguel and Suda that it will work even if those chances are slim.

He promised it’s not zero, you remind yourself, that’s enough for me.

“Okay,” you concede with a weak tone, unable to wholly say no this time. If Geto swears this will be the only time before the marriage ceremony.

Tweedledum’s eyes twinkle from sheer happiness, and Geto loosens his grip on him so he has full autonomy to pounce on you and pin you to the large couch like an untamed animal. Geto laughs in dark amusement as Gojo smothers your face and neck in slobbery, sloppy kisses before he locks his body around yours; your chests pressing so tightly together you fear you might suffocate from the proximity.

“Fuck, gorgeous, I missed you, missed you so much,” Gojo babbles between playful and messy little swirls of his tongue against your jaw. You can’t even struggle or squirm; the added weight too much, keeping you secured in place and a gasp leaves your lips as he digs one of his knees into your crotch, forcing your legs apart. He digs into your crotch and grinds against your sensitive core, which you already feel some slick building and dampening your panties and his pants.

“Looks like she missed you, Satoru,” you hear Geto purr from somewhere above you but you can’t even adjust in your place. You hear Gojo groan as Geto yanks his pants and boxers down, leaning into to smack his lips against his ass and perineum.

Gojo lets out a shuddering gasp, burying his head into the crook of your neck as he whimpers and wriggles closer to the sensation.

“God you’re so fucking mean,” Gojo bites out, pathetically nibbling at your ear to try to ground himself and you hate that you’re immobile practically.

“Please… can’t breathe,” you gasp out and Gojo’s lips quirk upward as he adjusts himself ever so slightly, but still rubbing his knee into your damp crotch.

“Sorry about that, Princess. Better?” he purrs into your ear before nibbling on the lobe. You whimper in response. A slight improvement sure but you’re still immobile, just how they like it.

Gojo’s eyes dilate as Geto slathers his tongue around the rim of his tight hole, and he moans low into your skin.

“Fuck, fuck, baby, stop…” he begs through a lewd moan. “Being so fucking mean…”

Geto’s hand comes down hard on his ass.

“Do you mean that, Satoru?” he teases, the tip of his tongue catching into his hole and making Gojo squirm under the slightest touch or sensation

“N-no,” he groans, inching his ass closer and sticking it more upward like the obedient dog Geto’s trained him to be. You keep your eyes shut, unable to witness this like you have countless times before. Gojo seeks reprieve from the torment by tormenting you; his knee still grinding into your crotch and making you whimper and whine and weep. His lips leaving behind little marks that tingle in their wake.

“Sssatoru…” you slur, your eyes rolling back into your skull as your orgasm sends shockwaves through your body. He grunts in approval, plunging his slobbery lips onto yours and rolling his tongue against your shier one. He grabs one of your hands and guides it to his cock, veiny and swollen and leaking. You wrap your hand around his size and brush your thumb against his slit and he sucks in a shaky breath, approving and needy. He’s getting worked on both ends and he adjusts his position for you to have some wiggle room and you can focus on getting him off while Geto is still busy eating him out. His expert tongue laves between his perineum and his asshole and somehow Gojo can still maintain some semblance of composure.

“Don’t worry, Princess,” he strains his voice through the soft moans as he fucks his cock into your soft palm. “I got you. You have nothing to worry—fuck—about.”

He peels your panties aside and dips his finger between your damp, slick folds and you utter a little whimper.

“Please, I can’t,” you plea, but Gojo only tuts at you as he draws lazy circles around your stiff little bundle of nerves.

“Yes you can,” he snarls, grunting as his own orgasm rushes through his body but somehow he can remain composed while he’s tending to you. Geto shuffles around in the back, before repositioning Gojo and you by extension. Gojo sits up and rests you on one of his legs as he continues to play with your soaked pussy.

Your hand doesn’t dare to leave his cock, knowing you could be punished if you did, even if Geto swears not to bring harm to you, it doesn’t mean he can’t find other ways to get his point across. Geto watches from beside the two of you as you fondle each other. Your body is coiling from the intense heat, and you find yourself bucking into Gojo’s skillful, eager fingers.

“That’s it,” Gojo praises, kissing your cheek. “I’m not so bad, right Princess?”

When you don’t answer, you hear Geto click his tongue in disapproval. Dread fills your chest at that.

“He asked you a question, love.”

“You m-make me f-feel good, Satoru,” you stammer and Gojo coos at you as he slips another finger inside you.

“Goooood. That’s all I want, Princess. I just want to make you feel good, be a part of your life. S’not fair that I don’t get my share these days but bearing the responsibility of being the strongest means I can’t be here as much as I’d like to be. Can you forgive me for that, Princess?”

He twists his fingers inside you and brushes against your spot, making you thrash in his hold. Your grasp on his shaft tightens and he sighs in delight.

“I f-forgive you b-but w-we miss you. S-satoru…!” Your free hand clutches at his wrist as you feel another wave of an orgasm coming on and you can’t take it; you splatter all over his hand and some of your arousal splashes onto the ground.

“Gorgeous,” Gojo murmurs, his tone reverent, “So fucking gorgeous on my fingers. Now you can take my cock. It’s missed your perfect little pussy.”

Geto chuckles as he tears open the condom and helps Gojo slip it onto his strained, throbbing cock. He presses a soft kiss to the tip before Gojo hoists you up like you weigh a bucket of feathers and sinks you onto his cock until just the head enters your tight, soppy heat. Your juices make it easy to slide you all the way down to the base of his cock, and Geto growls as he watches the scene unfold intently; his hand resting on his lap as his own cock strains against his slacks.

“Fuck, so fucking tight. Guess even Gsto’s cock doesn’t stretch you out for long, huh? Fucking perfect for me,” Gojo babbles as he bounces you on his cock like you’re his cheap whore and it feels so fucking humiliating yet you’re moaning because you can’t deny how good it feels. Gojo’s size doesn’t make you as uncomfortable as Geto’s does; he’s much easier to take.

“Hear that, Suguru? Man, she fucking loves me!” Gojo cackles as he bucks his hips in time with moving you up and down.

“Of course she does,” Geto replies as he pets Gojo’s hair, kissing his temple. Geto rests his free hand on your clit and rubs hard on it, making you shriek from the overstimulation. The sounds of Gojo’s cock slapping against you and the lewd squelching from your juices reverberates through your ears like a loud bass and fuck you hate it so much. You hate that it’s beginning to feel kind of good.

“You should see how fucking good you look right now,” Gojo rambles on again as he whips out his smart phone, switching on the selfie camera and recording you and him.

You hate seeing yourself. You hate what you see right in front of you—Gojo’s wide, manic grin as he oogles his long, veiny cock disappearing into your dripping cunt and your face. Your fucking face is what’s humiliating. Your complexion is reddened; your face and neck is coated in sweat. You appear limp and completely out of it—like you’ve given up though that can’t be further from the truth. You have to sell the naive damsel role because that’s what they both like, making them think they have full power over you but someday soon you’re going to stick both your fucking middle fingers at them when you’re riding off into sunset toward sweet freedom.

He stops the short recording and sets his phone aside; his tongue sticking out at the corner of his mouth as he fucks deeper inside of you, groaning as your walls clench and flutter around his length.

“You’re killing me, Satoru,” Geto laments, frowning as he palms himself through his slacks before finally pulling himself out. “Hurry before I stick my cock inside with yours.”

Your eyes widen at that in sheer horror as your head turns to Geto’s direction. His expression makes your heart sink; he’s not interested in sparing you a little dignity and really plans on bullying his cock alongside Gojo’s because he’s growing impatient.

“No no no, please, Sugu… I can’t!” you shout, shaking your head frantically as tears well in the corners of your eyes.

Geto’s frown deepens, his forehead wrinkling as he caresses your cheek with his knuckles.

“You can take it, my love,” he coos as he fists his cock into full hardness. You bite back a choked sob.

“No, no, Suguru…please it’ll be too much..!”

Tears stream down your cheeks as you protest but Geto disregards everything you say as he wraps his cock.

“Damn, Suguru,” Gojo cackles, “Can’t let it wait, huh?”

“Shut up,” he hisses as he pushes the tip of his cock into your pussy, and Gojo moans feeling Geto’s dick rub against his. The stretch absolutely fucking hurts and you weep, babbling endlessly and begging him not to go further but he doesn’t listen to you this time. Maybe he’s getting tired of being kind to you.

He manages to fit a good portion of his size inside and you’re sobbing so hard, your body is on fire and not in a pleasant way. They fill you up and stretch you out and they’re cackling together like the psychopaths they are.

“Fuuuuuuck,” Gojo growls, kissing the top of your head as he spears his cock into you with deadly precision. “Fuck fuck fuck you’re so much tighter. ‘M gonna come.”

And he follows through on his word, fucking into you with one last hard thrust before he gives you a little mercy and slides his cock out so Geto can have his way with you.

Gojo trails kisses all over your tear-strained face and ignores your continued weeping and begging to stop.

“Shhhh, we’re just getting started, Princess. We have so much making up to do before you and Suguru tie the knot, yeah? Just relax and let us take care of you. That’s all we want.”

Such fucking lies.

Geto growls as now he’s the sole cock drilling into you, and you’re stretched nice around his size. Your walls are still fluttering and squeezing around him and trying to suck him inside deeper and Geto looks down at you with a feral gaze, something you haven’t seen since the day he took you.

“Too bad I don’t have the intention of fucking a few babies into you,” he chuckles, reaching out to trace the gold chain jingling around your neck with each jerk of his hips. He tugs a bit on the chain and you avert your gaze. He frowns at that, tugging again and making you look at him. “You know I can’t afford to bring more monkeys into this world, but the idea of coming inside you is… enthralling. Perhaps we can save that for when I fuck your perfect ass.”

“Damn,” Gojo whistles, his arms circling your waist. “That’s going to be so hot. Fuck her full of cum and then have her walk around like that all day. Perfect way to ensure she belongs to you, yeah Suguru?”

“Exactly,” he laughs in response, a wicked smirk on his face. His hand comes down to smack your pussy and you scream, but Gojo secures his hold on you.

“Shhhh, Princess. Don’t squirm too much or he could hurt you. He doesn’t want to, you know?” he whispers in a mock soothing tone.

“Please, Sugu…. It already hurts,” you cry, sniffling, your eyes bloodshot and puffy from all of the tears you’ve shed.

“You can take it,” he grunts with another sharp slap on your quivering cunt. “You can do it, my love. Come for me.”

In spite of everything the world spins as you come down hard on his cock, arousal gushing out and it’s not the prettiest sight to you but it must make Geto and Gojo as gleeful as children on a Christmas morning.

“Sugu…” you murmur, body going a bit limp but you remember Gojo saying they barely begun. This is so tiring. But Geto pulls out with a soft moan, but his cock is still hard. Needing.

“What is it, my love?” he asks in that affectionate tome he’s been using so much more lately. Without the underlying condensation, just pure love, like he really believes he does love you.

As if someone who loves you would do things like this without so much as a shred of remorse. Gojo is silent behind you, sitting back and enjoying the scene unfold.

“I-I can’t,” you stammer, “Please, I can’t…”

“Yes, you can,” he urges a bit more gently. “This is a celebration, my dear. Lean into it.”

He kneels on one knee until his mouth is level with your cunt, his eyes sparkling with need and lust.

“We just want to take care of you,” he goes on, pressing a kiss to your spent cunt. “That’s all we want.”

You shake your head again.

“Can’t,” you keep pleading, “I can’t, I can’t…”

“Sure you can, Princess,” Gojo murmurs, “You have to. It’s the least you can do. After all, Suguru’s risking a lot just to be with you.”

Huh?

“I’m risking everything just to be here too,” Gojo continues while Geto pushes his tongue into your cunt. “So do this for us, baby. Because once Suguru married you, it’ll make things easier for us to be together. You’ll understand soon, I promise.”

“B-but…”

Gojo shushes you again before silencing you completely with a heated kiss. You can’t put up much of a fight anymore, in that moment.

This will be the only time you surrender to this battle, but not the fucking war.

[deiitsukki]

Situationship | Suna R.

Synopsis: “In a relationship built on unspoken words and fleeting moments, Y/N falls hard for the enigmatic Suna Rintarō, hoping for something deeper beneath his casual demeanor. Their connection grows complicated during a road trip, culminating in a bittersweet romance that promises everything but permanence. When Suna’s family embraces Y/N as one of their own, their bond is tested, exposing their contrasting hopes and fears. In the end, Suna’s unwillingness to commit leaves Y/N in painful realization—she was just a chapter in his story, one he would inevitably turn the page on.”

A/n:( Angst & Smut fic! Cunnilingus in the car, Fingering, Bathroom sex, Mirror sex, Based on chappell roan's song “Casual” if you wanna read diff and sfw ver of this check it out on my other tumblr account it's @namicakes )

The sun dips low as you and Suna Rintarō drive down the winding road, the car filled with the soft lull of tires against asphalt and the fading hum of the radio. 

Outside, the world rushes by in a blur of trees, and the sky blushes into twilight hues—muted colors that match the mood that’s slowly settled between the two of you.

It had started so casually between you and Suna. A fleeting touch, lingering glances, an easy conversation one night that stretched into early morning. Casual, just like that. But the truth was, nothing had been casual about it for you since the beginning. You’d fallen into his quiet allure, the pull of his indifference that somehow always seemed to tilt towards you.

You’d spent weekends together, some late nights, maybe a holiday or two. But now, as his mother had asked you to join them at their beach cottage—another invitation you hadn’t expected—it felt different. Real. Like there were strings attached, and you weren’t sure if either of you wanted to acknowledge it.

“Hey,” you murmur, glancing over at him. He doesn’t look away from the road, fingers tapping idly against the steering wheel. But he hums in response, a low acknowledgment that he’s listening.

“So… us. What is this?” You try to keep it light, but your voice wavers, betraying the tension inside you.

He sighs, glancing at you for a brief second before his eyes return to the road. “Why does it have to be anything?”

Your heart sinks a little at his words, a leaden weight settling in your chest. It’s always been like this with him—a series of contradictions. The way he looks at you, sometimes like you’re the only person in the room. And yet, his words, they always pull you back, hold you at arm’s length.

“I just… I don’t know,” you say, struggling to find the right words. “Sometimes it feels like… more, you know? Like we’re not just… casual.”

“Does it matter?” he asks quietly, but there’s something in his voice—a crack in his usual guarded tone that catches you off-guard.

You laugh, but it’s hollow. “It does, to me.” You look away, the passing landscape blurring into streaks of color through the window. “I just wish I knew what I was to you, Rintarō.”

There’s a beat of silence before he responds, his tone softer than usual, almost contemplative. “You’re… something to me.” He clears his throat, and his grip on the steering wheel tightens. “But I don’t know if I can be what you need.”

The words sting more than you expected. There’s something about the way he says it—like a wound that never quite healed, a place in him he’s never let anyone touch. And suddenly, you’re angry. Angry at his distance, angry at his hesitation.

“Then why am I here, Rintarō? Why do you keep pulling me in if you’re just going to keep pushing me away?”

The car slows as he pulls over, cutting the engine. He turns to you, his gaze intense, something dark and raw lingering in his eyes. “Because I don’t know how to let you go.”

And then his lips are on yours, desperate, almost feverish, like he’s searching for something he can’t name. Your anger dissolves in the heat of the moment, replaced by a yearning that you can’t ignore, a need to be closer, even if it hurts.

He broke the kiss and without anymore words he fixed your seat so you were slightly laying, He then unbuckled his seat belt, and before you could ask him what is he going to do, he was already on his knees infront of your seat.

You yelped as he suddenly put his cold hands inside your dress skirt, in a swift moment he already removed your panties, He smirked as he saw you were wearing the laced pink panty he really loved.

“R-rin” you muttered shyly as you look down on him “We're in the middle of the road we can't-” you said warning him but he shushes you as he lifts your dress skirt “Shh be quiet then.” he said sternly before ravishing your pussy

You squirm at the sudden contact, you put your right hand to your mouth to muffle your moans and your left hand on his hair, you gripped his hair tightly as he eats you out like a hungry animal.

“Rin~” you whisper-moaned trying not to make a loud noise but the way he eats you makes you wanna moan his name. You threw your head back as you felt yourself closer into orgasm, he felt it too so he put his long thick fingers inside of your pussy, and your eyes rolled back as the pleasure you were feeling grew more intense.

He pumps his fingers in and out of you, fingering you while licking your clit, he continued doing this until you couldn't hold back anymore

“F-fuck Rin Fuck I'm gonna cum” you cried out in pleasure, hearing your cries he deepens his fingers, he hums looking up on you his face burried in your pussy.

You felt the vibration of his hum and that was the last straw, you felt yourself reach your climax and came in his fingers.

The days pass in a blur after that, the memories of his touch and his words haunting you, lingering in every quiet moment. You find yourself at his family’s beach cottage soon after, where his mother welcomes you with open arms, her warmth something unfamiliar and almost painful. It’s as if she’s seeing you as something permanent in his life—an idea that fills you with both hope and dread.

And then, weeks later, there’s the dinner at his family’s house, the night where everything unravels.

Suna’s mother watches the two of you as you sit side by side, her gaze soft and knowing. She smiles, her words gentle, but they cut deeper than she could ever know. “You two look lovely together,” she says, her tone warm and inviting.

The weight of her words sinks into you, heavy and suffocating. Lovely together. Lovely, as if you were a real couple, as if this wasn’t just some half-spoken promise that neither of you fully acknowledged. You feel the walls closing in, the words catching in your throat, and suddenly you need to escape.

You mumble an excuse, pushing away from the table and stumbling into the bathroom. Locking the door behind you, you let out a shaky breath, your chest tight as you sink down against the wall. The tears come before you can stop them, hot and silent, slipping down your cheeks as the ache of wanting something you can’t have crashes over you.

It’s only when you hear the soft click of the door that you realize you’re not alone. Suna stands there, his expression unreadable as he watches you. He doesn’t say anything, just steps closer, his gaze dark and searching.

You expect him to comfort you, to say something, anything, to break the silence. But instead, he kneels in front of you, his hand reaching out to brush a tear from your cheek. And then he’s kissing you, a slow, deliberate kiss that drowns out the pain, the questions, everything. His touch is gentle, as if he’s afraid you might break, but there’s a desperation there too—a silent plea, a need that neither of you can put into words

The world blurs around you, the line between what’s real and what’s fleeting slipping away. It’s intoxicating and heartbreaking, and you lose yourself in him, knowing that this moment is all you’ll ever have.

He took your hands and guide you in the mirror infront of the bathroom sink,He then make you face the mirror, he was behind you, he then swept your hair to the side kissing your shoulder, you whimpered as him left a wet kiss in the side of your neck.

His hands slowly tracing your body, from you shoulders to your hands and finally his hands finding it's way to your waist, he holds your waist in a gently way as if he's afraid you're gonna break, Then all of a sudden he made you bend down.

His other hand lifted your dress and his other was on the back of your neck, He then unzip his pants, letting out his painfully hard cock. He lined himself in your entrance and without any warning he slammed his thick cock in your wet pussy.

You Moaned and your hands instinctively went to your mouth to prevent yourself from being heard, you remembered that his family was downstairs having a happy dinner and you can not help but feel ashamed because this was their house and you were just a guest but here you were letting their son ruined your insides.

Suna Fucks you into oblivion, his thrust were slow and sloppy but you feel good because he was hitting the spots that made you see stars, His hands grabhed a fist of your hair, he yanked your head up to make you look at yourself in the mirror.

And oh god, you were so ashamed of how your face shows that you were having good, you were in deep pleasure, and he knew it, suna knew it too, you take a look on his face in the mirrpr infront of you, he smirks at you, His pace picking up as he felt himself close.

he bend down too, his chest on your back and both of his hands pinned your hands down onto bathroom sink, his face in the crook of your neck, his cock going deep inside you, he felt your walls squeeze him and he groaned in your neck muttering “Fuck don't squeeze me like that”

You bit your lip so hard to stop yourself from screaming from how good he fucks you, you can feel him burries his thick cock inside your pussy.

“Suna gonna cum” you muttered quietly “Cum on my dick then” he chuckles in your neck, his hot breath tickling you

Just as he said, you groaned as you came in his cock, your back arching against his broad chest as you heaved on heavy breaths trying not to make any loud sound to disturb the family dinner downstairs.

Suna's pace became sloppier as he felt himself cumming inside of you, with a quiet moan he shoot his loads inside of your kissing your back as he emptied his cum in your pussy.

While catching his breat, suna  slowly pulled his dick outside of you. As he cleaned himself he notice you weren't moving, he saw you staring at yourself in the mirror with a blank expression then he sighs. 

“Come here” he spoke ushering you “Let's shower together” he said still in his usual deadpan expression and cold tone, you were shocked to say the least. 

“W-what about your mother? she mght think-” you asked nervously “don't worry about her, I told her you were in my bedroom resting” he cuts her off

He didn't know if you heard him but you were in a daze as if you were drowning in a deep ocean of unsaid thoughts, he sighed again, you've been spacing out a lot since the small fight you had in the car.

He didn't know what made you like this, but what he said in the car, he means it. he didn't want to lose but he doesn't know if he wanted more of you, he keeps you closebut never too close. 

To pull you out of your thoughts, he snaked one of his hands in your waist and pulled you towards him, kissing you in a deep and passionate, his other hand cupping your face.

‘Was it casual when you kissed me passionately trying to pull me out from drowning over my miserable thoughts?’

When you finally pull away, the silence between you is thick with unspoken words. He looks at you, his gaze soft, almost tender. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice barely audible.

You manage a weak smile, your heart heavy with the truth you’ve been trying so hard to ignore. “Don’t be. I knew what this was from the start.”

He nods, a shadow of sadness flickering in his eyes. “I wish… I wish I could be more for you.”

You close your eyes, letting the weight of his words settle over you. And in that moment, you realize that he won’t ever be the person you need. He’s too afraid of letting you in, too afraid of what he might lose if he does.

And so, you let go.

The silence stretches between you and Suna long after that night. You drift apart like waves receding from shore, a slow and inevitable separation. The calls become less frequent, the messages shorter, until they stop altogether, leaving only an empty inbox and a quiet ache you carry like a scar. 

It’s been weeks since you last saw him, the memories still sharp and vivid, refusing to fade. You keep replaying that night at his family’s house, his mother’s warm smile, his silence in the car, the way he pulled you close only to push you away again.

And now, as you sit alone in your room, you realize you were right all along: he was always just passing through, slipping out of your life as easily as he slipped in. You find yourself scrolling through old photos, looking for remnants of moments that feel like they were never real. It’s as if he left nothing behind, no trace except for the hollow ache inside you.

One evening, you’re drawn to the beach, the same stretch of sand where you’d spent that warm afternoon with his family. The waves lap at the shore in the fading twilight, mirroring the last of the light in your heart. You pull your jacket tighter around you, trying to block out the cold, but it seeps in anyway, a biting reminder of everything you’d tried to hold onto but lost.

There’s no message, no goodbye, only an absence that weighs heavier with each passing day. You realize he’s already gone, moved on like you were just another moment he’d let slip through his fingers. And yet, part of you still waits, still hopes that he might come back. But he doesn’t.

One night, months later, you hear from a friend that he’s been seen with someone else. She’s smiling in the photos, leaning into him, her gaze full of a warmth that’s achingly familiar. You can’t help but wonder if he looks at her the way he once looked at you, or if she’s just another fleeting thing he’ll one day forget.

As you close the album on your phone, the realization hits you fully: you were always just a passing chapter, a story he never meant to keep. And even though you knew this was how it would end, the pain of it feels like a wound that will never truly heal.

You look out at the ocean, letting the waves carry away the last of your hopes. And in that quiet, lonely space, you finally let him go.

[mikkomacko]

Him and I- Loose Ends

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Reader, Mob Boss! Nico

Warnings: smut, violence, weapons, mentions of blood, alcohol use

Previous chapter

A/n: Just as a PSA for my own piece of mind, the characters that are Nico’s family in this story do not at all reflect them in real life. They only share names and looks, and I am in no way making claims or assumptions about who they are in real life. Whoo, now that that’s out there, I hope yall enjoy and please let me know your thoughts!

Thanks!

____________________________________________

Nico’s always been a simple man.

It doesn’t take much to keep him happy. All he ever wanted was his own life, his own business. And while the execution of that wasn’t necessarily simple, once he did it, it was all a piece of cake.

His favorite days were the ones where he got up, met up with Timo for a morning run and breakfast or coffee, and then went into work. Didn’t matter the job or place he was at for the day, all that mattered is that he was getting to work with his best friends in a new city he loved.

He thinks he’s gotten even simpler since meeting you. He’s got a lot of favorite things now, all of which revolve around you. The smell of your hair after an everything shower, the way your hand feels in his. The color of your lips and how it feels when they kiss him, how his whole body turns to goo. How your eyes sparkling when they look at him.

Even just the sound of you breathing next to him is enough.

“Nico,” He especially loves the way his name sounds coming from your lips.

So yeah, Nico is a simple man.

“Shh baby,” he breathes into your temple, “I’ve got you.” He’s simple in the way that all he needs, all he’s ever going to need is you. And he thinks this trip to his home has more than proven that.

Your fingers stroke through his hair, soft and gentle compared to the way your thighs are squeezing around his hips, knees biting into the bone. Flexing, you try to pull him in, to no avail. Nico laughs under his breath, calmly rocking back into your dripping pussy.

“Nico,” you whine again, a pathetic sound hiccuping directly into his ear. “Schoa, please.”

Pressing a kiss to the hinge of your jaw and then your lips, Nico rolls his hips back into you, dick twitching when your eyes roll back.

“Let me take my time,” he tells you, and you blink up at him with glossy eyes. You’re not gonna argue with him, not gonna demand he fuck you into the mattress. He knows (and loves) that you get whiny and blubbery during sex, no matter how he does it. So he doesn’t have to say it scoldingly, no he just has to talk sweet to you.

You love when he’s soft and sweet, preening and puckering your lips at him. Nico kisses you, lazy and lackadaisically, focusing more on the feeling of your lips rather than the feeling of your pussy clenching around him.

God he could die kissing you. Every bone in his body broken, every inch of skin battered and bruised, every sense destroyed. The most horrible death imaginable, and as long as you were there, kissing him, he wouldn’t care. He’d simply move on, wait for you impatiently in the next life just to do it all over again.

“You’re so perfect,” he whispers into the skin of your cheek, “so perfect, ya know that?”

Your fingers tug on his hair, the other tickling down the side of his ribs and he shivers, drops more of his weight into you.

“Shut up and let me come,” you reply, a teasing lilt in your tone. When he pulls back, you’re smiling, face sweaty and pink. “Please Schoa?”

Yeah, you’re perfect.

“Thought you were supposed to be sweet,” he taunts, kissing the corner of your mouth. Settling into the cradle of your thighs, he switches the pace to something slow and sensual, more grinding than anything else.

A broken moan touches his lips, the new pace adding more pressure to your clit than before.

“We both know you’re the sweet one,” you mumble, the words more spoken into the scruff of his cheek than the air around you two. He presses forward, knees digging into the mattress and you stutter out his name when his cock brushes that spongey spot.

“Just for you baby,” he swears, then he’s kissing you again, wiggling a large hand between the two of you. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing tender circles while he grinds into you, deep and slow.

Hips tilting up and thighs tightening around him, Nico swallows every broken whimper that leaves your lips.

“Fuck, you sound so pretty.” He pants into the kiss, eyes squeezing shut when his orgasm burns at the base of his spine and the pit of his stomach. “That’s my girl, give it to me baby.”

You tug at his hair, nails biting into his skin as he tips you over the edge. Warm and slick walls pulsing around his cock, Nico bites at the side of your neck as you milk his own orgasm out of him. He grinds through it, thighs sore and tired, hips aching from the way you were fighting him to go faster and harder earlier but he doesn’t care.

Everything feels so good now, so hot and sweet. He can’t tell where his limbs end and yours begin, or which heavy breaths are his or yours, or even which pounding heartbeat is his.

Perfect, you’re so fucking perfect.

Nico presses a sweet kiss of apology to the red bite mark he’s left on your throat, tilting his chin up to catch your lips. You kiss him back, humming contently.

“Marry me Nico,”

Blinking his eyes open, Nico looks down at you in confusion. He heard the words, feels them in his chest, but his brain is fighting to comprehend them. Especially here, like this.

“W-what?”

“I said no last time and then it got fucked up,” you explain, dropping your hand to feel his chest, pressing into the skin like you’re trying to touch his heart. “I feel like I’ve waited my whole life for you, I don’t want to wait anymore.”

It takes his breath away- you take his breath away. He could say yes, lean down to kiss you and tell you he already has colors and flowers picked out. He could get out both of his rings and take you to the courthouse right now. It’d be a dream come true.

But it wouldn’t be what you deserve.

“Well you’re gonna have to,” he answers quietly, a loving smile on his face. He doesn’t have to worry about you taking it the wrong way because you know him. You’re the other side of the same coin, always right there with him. “Because I’m doing this right.”

You pout, blink up at him sadly but you’re still smiling. Glowing, radiating, whatever you want to call it. “Fair enough, I suppose.”

“You suppose?” He chuckles, kissing at the corner of your mouth. “How do you know about the other one anyway?”

“Timo told me,” you mumble, then pause like you’re thinking. “He also told me to say no to any proposal in which someone is naked and/or you’re inside of me.”

Nico laughs. “Two-for-two this time huh?”

“Yeah,” you giggle, eyes going tender and warm as they examine every inch of his face. “I really am sorry about that day Nico.”

The air shifts, any playfulness or teasing that existed before being sucked up and out of the room. Nico swallows heavily, heart thumping in his throat. It hurts him to think that his carefully timed and planned proposal got hijacked, but he doesn’t blame you. He could never blame you.

It just wasn’t meant to be that day.

“It’s not your fault,” he promises. “And m’not too torn up about it, I swear. You and Timo are crazy if you think I don’t have a million different ways I want to ask you to marry me.”

Your eyes, still heavy with sleep, twinkle with intrigue. “Really? Like what?”

“Well a few of them resembled our current situation but if Timo is vetoing them…”

“Aw screw him,” you grumble jokingly. “I think we should explore said situations a little bit more.”

And they say Nico’s the dirty one. “Yeah?”

“Mhm, we do have all morning after all.”

Nico could’ve sworn he had plans for this morning but he can’t for the life of him remember what it was. Oh well, he’s got better places he could be.

~~~~

Luca, unlike Nico, has a lot of friends. And not just friends within the business, but like actual friends. People from school, people from hockey, people from just living his whole life in the same town.

It’s funny to see. Luca has his men working, stationed around the bar as security and extra security. Usually nights out and celebrations back in Jersey are with the boys. They’re yours and Nico’s friends, and unless they request time on the clock, Nico doesn’t make them work.

“Whoa,” Luke breathes, taking in the crowded bar. Casual, is what Nico told all of you. It’s a causal get together with friends. Luca being casual with this many people is mind blowing.

“How’d you end up being the anti-social Hischier?”

Nico glares at Jack, the look being answer enough for why Nico has a small circle. Ushering the group of them into the corner booth, away from the music and bar, you make all the boys sit down. Well, all except for Nico who stands by your side, arms crossed over his chest.

“Alright, I’m saying this once and only once,” you begin, making sure they’re all looking and listening. “Do not leave the bar tonight without telling someone. Unless Luca tells you that you can have a drink on him, you order on our tab. No going home with Luca’s friends,”

You pointedly look at Jack, who frowns in offense.

“We have a flight in two days. Which means first thing tomorrow we’re up and packing and cleaning up the house. No whining.”

Four heads bobble in agreement, intent eyes locked on yours.

“I don’t care how much you drink, I don’t care who you hang out with here in the bar. But best behavior and no fighting-“

“Especially you two.” Nico interjects, pointing a finger at Jack and Luke. “We clear?”

“Yes boss,” they say in unison. Easing up, you smile and nod towards the bar top and pool tables.

“Alright, go have fun.”

Like horses out of the gate the four younger boys trip over each other to scramble away from the table. Timo snickers as they go, tripping Mercer on his way but that does nothing to deter him.

“Hm she’s strict Neeky.”

Turning, Luca and Maja are behind you now, double fisting drinks. Maja has a couple of those sweet cocktails you’d had the last time you were here and your mouth waters when she holds the glass out to you.

“Good cop, bad cop,” Nico replies, taking the beer Luca is handing him. “She’s all talk, I’m execution.”

Catching the straw in your mouth, you take a sip. Nico holds his hand up and you high five him, not even having to look at each other. It makes Luca laugh, the way it seems rehearsed and you giggle too.

“Not enough hands for me, or what?” Timo complains, motioning to the drink Luca didn’t bring him. Luca laughs, lightly shoving at Timo and the two boys start bickering in Swiss German.

Lost on the conversation, you press into Nico’s side. “Neeky?” You grin, running your hand up and down his lower back. “Why didn’t I get to call you that?”

“They called me that when I was a baby.”

“And now, when you’re not a baby.”

He huffs, taking a swig of his beer. The question has been on your mind ever since you got here and heard him first answer to the name. You and Jack had been the ones to first call him Schoa, delirious and giggling in the bar after Timo called him Hischow. Those were his only nicknames, everything else was Nico or Hischier or boss.

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “S’just an embarrassing childhood nickname I guess.”

Rising to your toes, you tuck your nose into the curve of his jaw. “I think it’s cute,” you punctuate the promise with a kiss to his neck.

“Yeah?”

“I like the Swiss bits about you,” you say, sipping your drink. Timo, still chattering with Luca and now Maja, raches out blindly and you hand it to him. The free hand lets you plaster yourself to Nico’s torso, hugging his slim waist. “I wish you spoke it more, at home and stuff.”

His cheeks tinge pink, something like shyness settling into his gaze when he glances at Timo and his brother. “My accent gets thick,” he says quietly. “Jonas says half the time he doesn’t even know what I’m saying. And then it messes up my English too because I get all slurry.”

Frowning, you try to think a time he’s been weird with his English. Sometimes he speaks more formal than most Americans would, or he stumbles over a pronunciation but you’ve always known what he was talking about.

“That’s not true,” you insist. “Well I don’t know about Jonas’s claims but I always understand you. And I like your accent.”

Shaking his head, he smiles, a little bitter. “S’not exactly the kinda accent you want to hear in bed, is it? Not like yours.”

You can’t believe you didn’t know this about Nico. That him not making the language mandatory for the boys, him not speaking in his native tongue or sharing his childhood names, or even calling you sweet pet names in Swiss German is all because of this.

He’s embarrassed about his accent.

“Nico,” you murmur, dramatically pouting your lips when his gaze falls to your mouth. “I love your accent.”

He hums, low and quiet, like he’s embarrassed to be asking for the reassurance but wants it anyway. Luckily for him, you’re always down to praise the ground he walks on.

Lowering your voice, you tuck into his shoulder to hide your words from his family. “Especially when it’s telling me what a good girl I am.”

A shuddering breath leaves his lips, wetting them with his tongue. He wraps his arm around your middle, dark eyes meeting yours.

“Fuck, what am I gonna do with you?” He mutters more to himself than you, but you’re pressed up against him so tightly it’d be impossible for you not to hear.

You smile, “kuss?”

Nico chuckles, leaning in to kiss you. You cup the back of his neck, drawing him closer and tease the seal of his lips with your tongue-

“Hands off her Hischier!”

Disgruntled, Nico pulls back and looks over your head. His eyebrow pinch together, lips pursed and your heart stutters in your chest. You know that’s his mean look, the grump face Jack is always talking about but you think it’s so cute.

Turning, you rest back on Nico’s chest and he wraps his arm across your chest. Flattered, you hold onto his bicep, blinking innocently at Jack and Dawson.

“You two are not allowed to drink with her,” Nico dismisses before they can even ask. Timo rolls his lips, trying not to laugh as he hands your drink back. Luca, not bothering to uphold his brother’s authority, laughs anyway.

“Uh-oh,” he teases, “what trouble did the kids get you into?”

Blushing, you ignore Luca in favor of taking another sip. Luke’s face brightens, already fishing his phone out of his pocket.

“She drank the whole bar out from under Jack,” he snorts, scrolling through what you know is his Snapchat memories. The stupid app where the videos of you on the keg and Timo’s shoulders live. “It was the first time she hung out with us without Nico.”

He hands the phone over, Luca’s face cracks open into a delighted laugh that sounds a lot like Nico’s. Grumpy, you tilt your head back to look up at Nico.

“Can we go practice pool?”

Nico licks his lips again, smiling as he nods. “Lead the way baby.”

~~~~

Fiddling with the empty shot glass in front of you, you blindly nod along to whatever story Nina is sharing with the table. It’s not polite, you know that, to pretend to be listening when you’re not. Especially if you’re doing a shit job at it.

But it’s like Nico is telepathically beckoning your eyes to be on him all night.

He looks so good, squinting in concentration at the game of beer pong in front of him. Luca is muttering something in his ear, obviously strategizing on how to make sure the Hughes boys don’t catch up and win.

If Nico can feel you watching him, he doesn’t show it. He keeps his eyes on the makeshift table, what was obviously the other pool table but now has a plank of sanded and glossed wood on top. Luca pats him on the back, takes a step to the left and then Nico is holding up his ping pong ball, his large hand and fingers dwarfing it.

God, he’s so hot, you think and Nico bites his lip as he aims, turning to find the right angle and you almost die when he juts his ass out just the slightest bit. Maybe he does know you’re watching him.

“Hey,” an elbow bumps you, Nina’s you think. “stop drooling over Nico. Your bestie is trying to talk to you.”

You’re not even embarrassed about being caught staring (and drooling), but you are a little embarrassed that Timo is now standing at the end of the table. You hadn’t even noticed.

You do notice the red head by his side though, everything about her even more beautiful up close. She’s got Timo’s hand in hers, a blue drink in the other and you immediately smile in greeting.

“M’not even sorry,” you say to Timo, who looks unimpressed. “He’s so hot.”

“I’m not surprised,” he counters, “you do this every time you drink around him.”

Maja and Nina snicker, and you shrug. A proud smile pulls at your lips and you lift your drink in cheers to him. “Guilty.”

Timo laughs, shaking his head and then he’s letting go of the girls hand to hold her waist. “Anyway, this is Amelia-“ even her name is beautiful. “-is it ok if she hangs out with you guys?”

Nina is immediately scooting down the table to make room. “Yes of course!” She exclaims, “it’s so nice to see you again.” Timo whispers something in Amelia’s ear before she sits down, smiling shyly.

“M’up next for pong,” Timo explains, making a face at you. “Pray Luca gets worse as he drinks because Nico does not.”

You sip your drink, glancing over at Nico. He’s laughing at whatever Jack just told him, solo cup in hand. You meet Timo’s gaze again, his eyes wide in expectation.

“Oh,” you say, already knowing what he’s not asking. “Yeah, just give me like a nod or something and I’ll take care of him.”

Timo reaches across the table and you high five him, laughing. “That’s what I’m talking about.” He cheers, then he’s pressing a kiss to Amelia’s head.

“See ya later!” He darts away from the table, heading down for his turn of pong.

“What was that about?” Amelia asks, the first words she’s spoken to you tonight. Nina is looking to you for an answer too but by the way Maja is smiling in amusement, you have a feeling she knows.

“I help Timo win at pong when he plays against Nico,” you explain, tentatively. “Not like cheating but Nico gets really good aim the drunker he gets so I just-distract him.”

“That’s one word for it.”

The table goes silent at Maja’s words, wheels turning until Nina’s eyes light up in understanding. Almost immediately she’s frowning in disgust.

“Oh ewwwww,” she mutters, taking a large swig of her drink. Amelia laughs, looking over her shoulder towards Timo and then at you, shrugging.

“If it works,” she says quietly, making you and Maja giggle. “That’s real friendship.”

Jack and Luke come grumbling by, pouting and petulant. It’s obvious they’ve lost their game to Nico and Luca, and when you look over their shoulders Timo and Mercer are starting their own matchup against the brothers.

“Hey,” Jack stops as he walks by, eyebrows pinched in annoyance. “He’s getting too cocky over there, boss.”

He jabs a thumb over his shoulder to Nico.

“Yeah,” Luke adds, “go make him lose, please?”

You look around, confused by the lack of the fourth boy they had at once been with. “Where’s Alex?”

Jack huffs in annoyance, a hand on his hip. “We sent him for the next round, on Nico of course, now are you gonna fuck with him or no?”

“Oh my god, yes. Now go.”

They turn to leave, Luke stopping last minute and raising an eyebrow at you. “Are you gonna tell him we asked you?”

“Oh yeah,” you snort, “but I won’t let him get mad so it’s ok.”

Luke brightens at that, shoving Jack forward and towards the bar. Focusing back on the girls, you tune into Maja asking Amelia about herself. It’s bad, but you find yourself zoning out in favor of watching Nico again.

It’s a view you can never get tired of.

You stay like, half tuned into the conversations between the girls and watching the game of beer pong. So far it’s pretty neck and neck, Dawson having aim almost as straight as Nico’s. Probably because of his height, you theorize. Him and Nico are both tall.

Though you suppose Timo is too.

He doesn’t feel as tall as Nico though. Something about his presence, his personality is just bigger than life. It probably aids his role as boss, the fact that he looks and feels so intimidating.

Timo catches your eye, tilting his head ever so slightly and you realize Nico and Luca have gone on a heater, clearing away all but three cups on the table.

“That’s my cue,” you say to the table, downing the last watered-down bit of your drink. Nina’s nose scrunches in disgust and she shoos you away.

Nico sees you coming right away, stretching out his arm for you to fit yourself under. Fiddling with his pendant, you press your chest into him, looking up at through your lashes.

“Enjoying the view?” He teases, confirming that he did in fact know you were watching him the whole time.

“Yeah,” you rise to your toes, lips close to his ear. “They sent me over here to sabotage your game.” Nico hums in acknowledgment, excited butterflies swarming your stomach. You love when the boys try to make you pick them over Nico, when you can mess with them under the pretense of teasing Nico.

They should know by now that you’re always on his side.

“I think it’d be more fun if you won though,” your voice is low, sultry and you can hear how hard Nico swallows.

“What do I get if I win?”

Pressing in closer to him, you smack a sloppy kiss to the soft patch of skin below his ear. “You get me any way you want Boss.”

Nico sinks the next three shots, and Timo doesn’t even get a chance to whine before your boyfriend is dragging you off to the back rooms of the bar.

~~~~

Fingertips and toes fuzzy from alcohol, you blindly paw at Nico. He backs you up into the edge of the sink, the porcelain pressing into your hip just rough enough to leave a bruise in the morning.

Nico’s hand drops your thigh, hitching one leg up over his hip. Unashamedly, he grinds into the newly available space.

“Fuck me,” he groans, doing it again, the bulge in his jeans growing harder with each rut into your covered core. It’s stupid and childish, like horny teenagers sneaking off at prom to grind in the janitors closet.

But it’s making Nico weak in the knees, strained noises of pleasure and teasing whimpers, all muffled by your lips. Listening to him, you slump back until your head bumps against the cool glass of the mirror, and Nico attaches to your jaw and neck.

Nipping and biting, his messily shaven beard-mustache combo scratches at your skin, just on the pleasurable side of rough.

It’s like he’s feral, lost in his own head as he marks your skin with his teeth, desperately dry humping into your overly warm body.

“Nico,” you run a hand through his hair.

“Hmm?”

His teeth nip below your ear and you hiss, digging your nails into the fabric of his flannel.

“Let me-“ you pant, cut off when he abruptly kisses you again, licking into your mouth. Kissing him, you shove at his hip with your knee until there’s enough room to get your hand down there, reaching for the button of his jeans.

“Nico,” you manage to get out, laughing when he shudders as you wiggle his button open and paw at the zipper. “Back up for a second baby.”

Eagerly, he steps back and you drop down from the sink. Nico’s panting, cheeks flushed and pupils blown when you calmly crowd into him, pressing a sweet kiss to his jaw as you get his jeans loose. You wiggle them down his hips, your knees going with them-

“Wait,” Nico catches your elbow and you freeze, peering up at him. He hastily plucks at the buttons of his flannel, quick but uncoordinated until the fabric comes loose and he shrugs it off.

“Here baby,” he murmurs, laying it out in the floor by his feet. Butterflies fluttering in your chest, you kiss him in thanks.

Even when he’s about to get his dick sucked in the bar bathroom he’s a total sweetheart.

You drop to your knees, Nico’s flannel thick and soft where it’s bunched under your weight. Grabbing the sides of his jeans, you yank them the rest of the way down his thighs until they rest around his feet.

Biting at your bottom lip, you push the edge of his shirt up with one hand and latch onto his boxer briefs with the other. His breath hitches, stomach clenching under your fingers when his cock skips free.

Thick and red, the blunt head dripping, you take him in your hand. Above you, Nico takes a deep breath, gathering your hair gently in his large hands. You lean in, by passing his hard cock in favor of kissing at the scar on the v of his hip and down his thigh. The muscle twitches under your mouth and you smile.

If the setting were better, you’d take your time teasing him. Kiss all over his thighs and hip bones, nose and lick at the underside of his cock where that stupidly sensitive vein runs under the smooth skin.

But there will be more chances for that so you don’t dwell on it.

Wetting your lips, you take his cock into your mouth, sinking down until he rests heavily on your tongue. A wrecked moan punches out of his chest, fingers tightening in your hair and you’re ready when he subconsciously urges you to take him deeper. Nothing if not predictable, methodical.

Holding tight to his thigh, you take deep breaths through your nose and swallow him down. The head of cock prods at the back of your throat, makes your throat tighten around him instinctively and Nico shudders, goosebumps rising on his skin under your fingertips.

You back off, mouth parting to suck in air while he still teases at your lips. Panting, you look up at Nico to find him already watching you. His hair’s a mess, eyes glassy and pitch black and he’s breathing heavily.

Swiping your tongue through his slit, you take him back into your mouth, watch the way his eyes flutter and his jaw clenches. You blink at him, fingers gripping his rucked up shirt tighter and you relax your jaw and throat.

Go ahead, Nico.

Like always, he can read you perfectly. His lips curl ever so slightly, the scar on his cheek dimpling. He smoothes your hair back again, lips puckering as he takes another deep breath.

Slowly, he presses his hips forward and holds you still, guiding his cock back down your throat. You let your eyes close, focusing on breathing and the sounds of his breath, the taste of his skin and come, grounding yourself.

He takes it slow for a second, easing himself in and out of your throat. But the appropriate timing to leave a party is dwindling down and Nico is getting desperate. You can tell by his gasps and whimpers, by the way he’s holding your head.

His thumb brushes the corner of your eye, the words going unspoken. You tilt your head up just a bit and Nico takes that as his go-ahead.

Rough and sloppy, Nico fucks into your mouth relentlessly. He never takes it to far, somehow always knows how to use you in a way that feels so good. You tongue at the underside of his cock, drool dripping out of the creases of your mouth.

“So good for me,” Nico groans above you, cock hitting the back of your throat and he moans when you gag around him. “Taking me like a fucking pro, like it’s your job, huh?”

You dig your nails into his thigh, choking in breathes through your nose and Nico caresses your face. “Like you meant to do this, yeah? Meant for me?”

Blinking your eyes open, Nico comes into view, blurry and watery through your eyes. You hum in agreement, his cock twitching in your mouth. Unable to answer him in words, you instead slip your hand down between his legs. He widens his stance for you, a sigh of content leaving his nose when you cup his balls.

He lets up, pulls himself all the way out of your mouth and you gasp for air, lungs burning. Gently, he swipes at your messy mouth, cleaning it up for you and you bat your eyes at him.

“Thanks baby,” you whisper, voice rough and strained. Nico simply smiles, a hiss leaving his lips because you’ve begun fondling him, lips dropping open to welcome him back into your mouth.

Nico doesn’t have to be told twice. He picks up where he left off, fucking your throat while you tease at his balls. He turns into a blubbering mess above you, Swiss German leaving his lips in a drunken slur and you’re caught off guard when he stills, cock all the way down your throat.

You grab his thigh again, whining as he spills into your mouth with a low grunt. His hand has gone slack, enough for you to pull back until just the tip is resting between your lips. Tenderly, you suckle at him, swallowing the mess he’s left behind.

A sound bordering on pain rumbles from deep in his chest, breath heavy when he mumbles, “please baby.” Dropping him from your mouth, you sweetly kiss at the scar on his thigh before rising to your feet. Nico drops your hair, taking a hold of your elbows to haul you up.

He’s all dimples and red cheeks, calloused fingers swiping under your eyes to wipe away the tears. “My pretty girl,” he whispers, kissing between your eyebrows.

You snuggle into his hold, taking a few deep breathes until your racing heart has calmed down. It hits you that his flannel is still lying rumpled on the bathroom floor, pants around his ankles, softening cock out, and you have try really hard not to laugh.

“You are so spoiling me tonight,” the thought makes you giddy, mind already conjuring up all the ways your gonna pillow princess on him later.

“Yes I am.” He says cheekily, squeezing you. Then after a beat of silence. “Fuck I need to put my pants back on.”

~~~~

You could blame the alcohol for the way you press back into him, arching your spine just enough to have the curve of your ass fit into the front of him. Truth is though, you don’t need to blame anything, don’t need to justify yourself to Nico.

He’s just as bad as you, grabbing your hip in his free hand and pulling you back into him. Leaning over you under the pretense of helping you line up a shot. Teasingly, you pull the stick back far enough that it hits his hip, fighting back a laugh when he lets out a quiet “oof.”

“Hey,” Luca scolds, and you take your shot, banking the cue ball off a solid that goes rolling into the corner pocket. “Keep it PG over there, Jesus Christ.”

Nico snickers and you straighten out, stepping away from him to hand over the pool stick. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nico insists, raising an eyebrow at his brother. “M’just being helpful.”

Luca smirks. “I was talking to her,” he points at you, and you giggle innocently.

“Me? What did I do?”

He turns, putting his back towards Maja. “I know that little move,” he bends forward, shoving his ass into Maja to the point that she stumbles away from him, drink sloshing onto the floor.

“How attractive,” Nico deadpans, and Maja starts bitching at Luca in Swiss German, laughing as she does so. You turn back to Nico, hands coming up to rest on his chest and he smiles lazily.

“Yes my baby?”

“I’ll be right back,” you say, and before he can ask, “I need the bathroom. For real this time.”

Satisfaction shines in his gaze, eyes crinkling when his smirk widens. It’s an attractive look on him, this cocky and carefree Nico who’s having fun with his family. You want him like this all the time, you decide. Smiling that wide, knowing that you’ll always be here to make sure he feels good and loved.

“Yeah ok,” he agrees, “be careful.” You nod, turning to walk away and he swats at your ass as you go. You scurry away, hands covering your butt until you can no longer hear Luca gripping Nico again for being handsy.

Making your way through the tables, you come up short when you spot an eerily familiar looking group. Struck by Deja Vu, you freeze on the spot just as the group of girls in line for the bathroom turn to you.

It’s them, all of them. Lena’s friends from that first night at the bar, all the girls that stood there and let her spew lies about you and Nico. A part of you wants to yell at them, to shame them for supporting a woman that could do something like that to another woman, could do that to Nico.

But you’re smarter than that, and scared, and the logical part of you knows you need to turn around and go back to Nico. You need to tell him, to make him take you back to the private bathroom from before and then make Luca kick them out.

You don’t move though, and neither do they. At least for the moment. A short girl with mousy brown hair moves first, stepping towards you and you tense.

“Sorry,” she says, wincing. “I didn’t-we didn’t mean to put you on edge.”

“Yeah,” you laugh bitterly. “Can’t imagine why I’d be on edge around you.”

They all share guilty looks. “We didn’t know what she was gonna do, what she even did. We just heard something had happened to you and Lena had disappeared.”

“Don’t say her name to me!” You hiss, angry and embarrassed that even these stupid girls know about it. Not all of it, it seems. But enough.

“Sorry,” the girl says again and this time it’s a blonde that speaks up.

“We don’t know what happened,” she starts, tentatively and something about her tone makes you stop. She sounds…genuine. “And we don’t really want to know. If it was bad enough for her to be…gone than she probably deserved it.”

Yeah you’d say she deserved that. Actually, she probably deserved worse but you can be too nice sometimes.

“Nico may be scary, but he’s not unfair and cruel.” Another adds. You don’t bother telling them it was you that decided what happened to Lena.

“Anyway,” the mousy haired girl sighs. “We just-we wanted to make sure you knew.”

“Knew what?”

“She was making a deal with someone. On the inside. She never said who, but she bragged a lot about how she was getting her second chance.”

A cold chill pricks at your neck, creeps down your spine and you have to swallow down the lump of fear rising in your chest. Get back to Nico, you need to get back to Nico.

“Ok,” you choke out, willing yourself to calm down. They probably mean Marcelo, the person on the inside that was working with her. Nico and Luca would’ve caught on if someone else were involved.

Abruptly, you turn, head spinning as you make a beeline back to the pool tables. Lena made a deal with someone, they had said. Not the other way around. Marcelo said he’d been offered a deal by Lena, you saw the message. No one ever said anything about her being offered a deal.

There’s nothing to do about the Lena thing right now, not that you even know if it’s true. Maybe they misspoke, maybe they’re somehow in contact with Lena and are messing with you.

Whatever it is, it’s tomorrow’s problem.

~~~~

“Look at that,” Timo sings, bumping his shoulder into Nico. Looking over at his friend, Nico follows his line of sight to you and Amelia. You’re showing her something on your phone, smiling wide and laughing together.

You look like you’ve known her your whole life, and something aches in Nico’s chest. Anyone you would have known your whole life is no longer in your life, and that fucking sucks. And it sucks that between your family and the friends that dropped you, there’s enough lingering pain to keep you from having real friendships.

Of course you’re Nico’s best friend and he knows he’s yours, but it’s not the same. He’ll never tire of you, never wish you had more friends to be around so that you’re not around him. But a part of him thinks you miss that, miss having girls around that feel like genuine friends.

You’ve never said it, but he knows you’re too scared to try and get close with the other Jersey girls.

Maybe Amelia is what you need. A real friend.

“They’re getting a long well.”

Nico looks at Timo questioningly. “You thought they wouldn’t?”

He shakes his head. “Of course I knew they would. It’s just…nice to see I guess.”

Yeah, Nico mentally agrees. It is nice. “When are you going to ask her to come to Jersey?”

Timo scoffs, elbowing Nico and narrowing his gaze. “Like you’ve got room to talk. When are you gonna ask her to marry you?”

Nico has to bite his lip to stop the smirk that rises on his face. His body warms, arousal stirring in his belly as he mentally relives this morning. “She asked me,” he laughs, “but I said no.”

“What? What is wrong with you?”

Timo smacks at his head, Nico ducking to get away. “It’s your fault. Thought there was some kinda rule you gave her about accepting proposals.”

“Huh?” Timo frowns, then sags in disappointment. “No, she didn’t ask you during sex did she?”

Nico laughs, not even needing to answer and Timo groans, painfully. “Jesus fuck, you two really are meant for each other huh?”

“Yeah,” Nico hums, heart fluttering. You are meant for him. And he’s meant for you. He can feel it in the way his entire being is always craving you, how he always feels like he’s missing something when he’s not with you. Even now, with you twenty feet away, it’s like he’s missing his right arm.

A piece of himself he didn’t know was gone until he met you.

“M’gonna ask her tomorrow morning,” Timo finally answers. “I know it’s last minute but that’s just how it worked out I guess.”

Nico looks over. Timo is nervously biting at the corner of his thumb, staring off into space as doubts swirl in his head. Clapping him on the back, Nico nods. “Whatever you need to do. If we gotta hold the flight, we can. If you need to stay longer, I’ll send the jet back for you. Anything Timo, I mean it.”

Then Timo is hugging him, squeezing Nico around the chest just like he used to do when they were younger. When they played hockey together and Timo would shove him into the boards, smacking him over the head and squeezing him tight.

Nico was smaller back then, but the feeling is all the same.

“Thanks man,” Timo mumbles, pulling back. “Same goes for you, anything I gotta do to help just please put a ring on that poor girl over there already.”

Nico laughs, squeezing Timo’s shoulder in thanks. “Don’t worry,” he assures, “I’m already on it.”

Him and Timo share a look of understanding. This is it, these next two days will change everything. Timo will either be walking away with the love of his life, or trying to find a way to finally move on. And Nico, well that little picture he’s had in his head of you in a white dress, swaying in his arms under the stars will be right there.

It’ll all be within reach.

Nico spends the rest of the night picturing that wedding ring on your finger.

~~~~

You should be running errands, should be gathering things and getting ready for the trip home. God knows you’ll have to triple check everything the boys pack, make sure they’re not leaving anything behind or forgetting passports.

It’s a long flight with a lot more people this time.

But you can’t bring yourself to move, to make your way downstairs and busy yourself with something else before Nico gets out of the shower.

Something’s not right. You can feel it, like a heavy weight on your chest, a crawling feeling on the back of your neck. Even before Lena’s friends mentioned it, the unease was there. Call it paranoia or intuition or whatever, but you know you’re right.

Just like you were right that day Lena and Marcelo were following you.

The texts, the plan; It doesn’t add up. Nico may believe that at the end of the day it came down to her wanting his power and revenge for leaving her. But Lena’s father worked with Rino. Even after Nico left she had stake in the business, she had been sworn into the family even before Nico knew of their arranged marriage.

She wanted something else.

Inhaling deeply, you pick up the phone from your nightstand, sliding open the screen now that Nico has disabled the password. The screen is a photo of her, a champagne flute in her manicured hands and long hair hanging over her shoulder. She’s on a balcony, the mountains green behind her. It was taken in the summer obviously, and she’s wearing a long satin dress that dips low down her back.

It’s a beautiful picture, really. But the background is what gets you. It was taken at Nico’s house, from the large open space that overlooks the grounds. He had told you that a pool was up there and in the summer they used to grill and swim a lot.

You pull up the camera roll, swipe through her photos. There’s no need to linger on them, Luca went through all the albums. At least that’s what Nico said.

It doesn’t take long to find the wallpaper photo. It’s fairly recent, taken just a few week before the cold started to settle in.

Lena had been visiting Nico’s home recently. You swipe to the one next to it. She’s not in it except for her hand, holding the champagne flute out over the balcony. It’s from the spot overlooking where you and Nico went on a walk your first day here, where you’d tackled him in the snow and goofed around until it got too cold.

You think back on the moment, on the way the air made you shiver. Was it the cold? Or was it something else?

Huffing, you drop the phone onto the bed and run your hands over your face. The tender spot on your temple aches, overwhelmed and confused. But you have to do this now, before Nico comes back to the room and realizes you’re still caught up on the stupid phone.

You don’t need him worrying over you, thinking that Lena is still haunting you and making you stress.

Picking the phone back up, you stare at the photos app. Why was she at Nico’s house? Luca runs majority of the business now with Rino acting as advisor and figurehead. There’s no business to be done at that house, it would be at Luca’s office.

Unless it was business Luca didn’t know about.

You click back to her albums, reading over the titles of them all. It’s funny how organized girls phones usually are. Nico’s camera roll is a mess, mostly pictures of you, or you and him, or you and Moose. And he doesn’t sort them or delete them. Hell he didn’t even know you have to delete photos twice….

Fingers trembling you scroll down until you get the last album. Lena’s sorted it at bottom, the recently deleted album hidden from anyone not looking for it.

Someone like Nico.

You click the album, holding your breath when random screenshots and selfies come up. Scrolling, you pause when you get to a screenshot of a text thread, all the way at the top meaning it was deleted recently.

The phone number isn’t saved but you can tell it’s a local one. There’s not a lot to the thread but panic seizes at your lungs when you read the first text.

The code is on my desk, everything is set to go. Don’t disappoint me Lena.

She hadn’t responded to it, only liking the message. The number had texted her again the next day.

Timo’s party, she scares easily.

This is who was following you that day, not Lena. And whoever it was had seen everything, knew you were freaked out and pushing Nico away. They knew exactly how to get you to run right to them.

Meaning they were familiar and experienced in this practice. Marcelo, maybe. You don’t know how long he worked for Luca, if he had been there since Rino was running everything-

Rino. Rino who has a desk and an office in that house. Rino who had picked Lena for his son. Rino who has does his very best to make you uncomfortable this whole trip.

Oh no, you think, this can’t be true. But you know it is. There’s no other way Lena and Marcelo would’ve known how to do this. Nico said it himself, they were sloppy and messy with you once they got you. But the plan leading up to that point had been flawless. Executed by someone pulling the strings from afar.

Lena had a deal with someone on the inside.

You swipe to the next photo, swallowing heavily when you realize what it is. Lena had taken a photo of the code, the one mentioned in the texts. It’s sitting on a placard, shiny and silver on an oak desk.

Anyone not looking for it would think it’s simply an interesting desk trinket, a creative nameplate. Pieced together Scrabble tiles, oddly clumped together and made of more than just letters.

R1N067

The numbers are odd, mostly because there’s no numbers in Scrabble. The tiles could be from somewhere else, not that it really matters.

What actually matters is that Nico and Luca missed a huge piece of the puzzle hidden in this phone, one that you’re not even sure you can reveal to them.

Rino tried to have you killed.

~~~~

“You ok?”

Nico tucks into the top of your head, laying a sweet kiss on your forehead. You blink, distracted and continue folding the freshly washed clothes.

“Yeah m’fine,” you respond casually, tucking socks into the extra pair of shoes had Nico brought. Sneakers that sit at the very bottom of his suitcase.

He grabs his jacket from the bed and shrugs it on, looking you up and down through his dark eyelashes. “Got some last minutes things before the flight I gotta take care of,” he says, adjusting the collar. “Which of the boys do you want me to leave?”

You don’t have to think about it long. It’s a no brainer. He’s already proven himself once this trip, got the boys together and ready for an international flight without you and Nico. He’s the one that picked you from the hospital, that effortlessly fit into the spot by your side, a seamless second hand man.

“Umm, Mercer?” You reply, as if it’s a question. The last thing you need is to look suspicious to Nico or at all nervous. He’ll drop everything to be that person for you, but this isn’t something he can be a part of.

You can’t let him.

“Not Holtzy?” He jokes, working on the buttons of his coat. “You’re trusting me with your precious baby Alex?”

Nico fits himself to your back, arms around your waist and his chin presses into your shoulder. “Think he’s hurt that you weren’t on his pong team last night. He needs bonding time with his father.”

Nico pinches your hip and you squawk, jumping away from him. Not that you get very far with him holding you to his chest. “That kid is all yours.” He chuckles and you roll your eyes. You can’t see it, but Nico’s smile widens, already knowing that you’re silently giving him attitude.

“Get out of here,” you mumble, “M’trying to pack.”

He smacks a kiss to your temple before stepping back. “Text you when I’m heading home,” he says, and you can hear him gathering his keys and phone off the dresser. “Do ya need anything?”

Yeah I need a whole day of you distracted with no questions asked, please.

“Ummm I don’t think so,” you turn to look at him, smiling at how cute he looks tucking his hair up into a beanie. “Oh actually, if I send you some stuff to get at the store will you pick it up for me?”

He frowns. “What kinda stuff?”

“For the boys,” you reply, casually. “Snacks and stuff to keep them busy on the flight.”

“They’re not five-“

“Do you want to entertain them the whole way then?”

Nico’s mouth stamps shut, lips pursing in thought and then he shakes his head. You fold the long sleeve in your hands, placing it neatly in his suitcase with a knowing look.

“Yeah ok, text them to me ok?”

He takes your arm, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek. “Ok,” you agree, and he squeezes your bicep before heading towards the door.

“Be safe Nico!” You call last minute, anxiously biting at your bottom lip. His heavy footfall pauses on the stairs and then faintly you hear him call back, “Yeah you too!”

~~~~

It takes Nico another half hour to wrangle together Alex, Luke, and Jack. Timo left this morning, looking far too nauseous for you to believe his claim that he’s not hungover.

Once the house has fallen silent, you go to work. Nico’s freshly washed black layers, you slip out from where he watched you pack them in his suitcase. You didn’t bring your usual mission gear, so instead you dig out black jeans and Nico’s long wool coat, laying them out on the bed.

“Dawson!” You call, collecting your boots and the holster you’d taken from Luca after the hospital. From down the hall you hear Dawson lumber towards the bedroom.

“What are you doing?”

He’s in the doorway, knowing eyes looking over the array of clothes you’ve got on the bed. When he looks at you, it’s like he already knows exactly what you’re gonna say.

Dawson’s always been smarter than he’s given credit for.

“There’s something I need to do,” you begin, “before we leave tomorrow. And I want you to come with me.”

“What about Nico?” He asks incredulously.

Shaking your head, you say, “He can’t know. You have to promise me you won’t say a word to him Dawson.”

He’s hesitant, you can tell by the way his whole face wrinkles with uncomfortableness. Even the breath he lets outs is iffy, like his whole body is unsure of this. “I don’t know…”

“Nico can’t know.” You insist, approaching him. “I’ll tell him when it’s right, but it has to be me.”

Dawson lets you take a hold of his shoulders, your gaze reassuring and certain when you look at him. “If you’re not comfortable with that, you need to tell me. I won’t be mad, but I can’t bring you into this if you’re not certain.”

You can almost see the neurons firing in his brain, eyes sweeping over your face like he’s waiting for you to laugh, to tell him this is all a test or a joke or something. After a moment, he straightens his shoulders.

“I’m with you,” he nods, “number one priority is you, that’s what Nico always says. So yeah, I can do it.”

Smiling, you ruffle his hair. “Atta boy, go get your gear on. I’ll debrief you before we go.”

Dawson’s entire body goes point straight, face hardening and he brings his fingers up to his forehead. “Sir yes sir.” He salutes you, a toothy smile cracking on his face when you shove him out the door.

He may not be the most serious and mature of the boys, but he’d sure as hell make a good second in command.

~~~~

“I should’ve known that was you.”

You don’t turn to look at him, humming in acknowledgment as you continue to look over the items meticulously placed on his office shelves.

It wasn’t hard getting Rino out of the house nor was it hard finding exactly where in the mansion he does his work. Mercer simply called the number from Lena’s phone, his voice gruff as he threatened Rino over the phone while you tracked its exact location. The pin locked, Rino took down the fake address Mercer fed him for ‘negotiations’ and you two slipped into the house while he was out.

“Where is he?” Furrowing your eyebrows in confusion, you look to Rino. “My son?”

He looks amused, like he thinks this some kind of joke, you being here. He was expecting Nico probably, not you.

“You’re sloppy,” you say instead, “all the scheming and lying, and you didn’t even make an effort to hide it?”

Something dark and mocking settles in his eyes. You wonder how ever compared him to Nico, this man. Any sense of resemblance they once held now ceases to exist. “I think that’s enough, this playing pretend.” He waves a dismissive hand at you. “You’re not meant for this life so let me speak to my son now.”

Anger boils in the pit of your stomach, for you, for Nico, for this whole family. This man has got it all. Money, safety, power, but most importantly he has three incredible kids. Kids that should mean the world to him, that should’ve been his priority.

Instead, they were his property.

“You’re stupid if you think I brought Nico here.” Keeping calm, level-headed. That’s how you stay ahead, even if you’re angry or scared. They’ll never know what to do with confidence, Nico had told you once. Even if they have the upper hand, pretend you do.

“That’s fine,” Rino shrugs, “it’ll be easier to get you out of my way if you’re alone.”

His boots are heavy when he crosses the room, stomping against the hardwood as he stalks towards you. Swallowing down the spike of fear in your chest, you tilt your head at him. “Who said I’m alone?”

Mercer takes his cue, slipping in the door behind Rino as the man comes to a halt. The melted snow on his boots squeaks against the pristine floor, and you look over Rino’s shoulder, silently shushing him with a cocked eyebrow.

Rino’s already heard him though, whipping around to find Mercer in the doorway, rifle in hand. Stiffening, Mercer raises the scope and aims it at Rino’s head.

“Oh great,” he deadpans, ignoring the gun on him and turning back to you. He’s close enough now that you can see the sweat beading on his face, the coldness of his gaze. “Another American I’m supposed to be afraid of.”

“I’m Canadian,” Mercer mutters behind him at the same time you say,” Supposed to be? You are scared of me.”

It’s almost funny the way Rino stops, taken an aback by your words and you use the moment to do more damage. “That’s why you made that deal with Lena. Nico was already your wildcard child, and you didn’t like that he brought in someone new. Someone he actually delegated power to.

“Because I don’t sit back and pop out three babies for him, and because I actually care enough about him to show up here and put a gun to your head.”

If possible, Rino’s face hardens even more than its usual stoic nature. “I had to make sure my son wasn’t making another mistake!” He bellows, and it echoes throughout the large office.

“He went against everything I ever taught him, everything that was ever ingrained in him from birth. Last thing I needed was him losing what little he has to a can’t-hack-it!”

“You ingrained in him?” You scoff, moving around the desk and towards Rino. “Everything good about Nico came from the nannies and baby-sitters. You had him simply because you couldn’t handle it, you couldn’t do what he does now.”

You’ve gotten so close to Rino you can feel his anger fueled breathes on your face, smell his oaky cologne. “It’s a good thing you were never around, weren’t here to teach him how to be a fucking coward-“

Rino cuts you off with a stinging backhand, the ring on his finger catching your bottom lip and the coppery taste of blood spills onto your tongue. Before you can even think of swinging back Mercer is kicking Rino’s legs, forcing him to his knees.

“Stay right there,” Mercer spits, eyes ablaze with anger. He shoves the scope of his rifle into the back of Rino’s head. “Touch her again and I’ll fucking kill you.”

Rino laughs humorlessly, glaring up at you as swipe at the blood on your chin. “That’s how it is in Jersey? You throw on red colors and get Nico’s men to kill for you? Act like you actually do something?”

“As opposed to what?” You spit at his knees, watered down blood staining the floor. “Making my kids hate me so much they push me out of the business? Pay my son’s ex to kidnap his fiancé and leave the blame on her and some random man? Hide behind everything?”

Rino opens his mouth to speak but you’re tired of hearing his voice, his excuses. “You’re a coward,” you continue, kicking at his thigh. “You have the most amazing family and you’ve thrown it all away. You don’t deserve to know Nico let alone be related to him.”

You take a step back, collecting yourself with a deep breath. Rino stays silent for the first time all day.

“Which is why you’re not going to know him anymore.” It’s the only real solution you can think of, the only fitting punishment besides death. You can’t kill Nico’s father, but you can keep him from hurting him.

“Nico is never going to see you or speak to you again. You’re not to come around my family under any circumstance.”

“You really think he’ll let you do this?” Rino mumbles, “Nico?”

“I don’t need his permission,” you say firmly, “but it’s actually insane that you ever thought you could lay a hand on me and Nico would want to be around you.

“In a way, it was merciful of me to come here instead of him. Father or not Nico would’ve torn you apart with his bare hands. I guess you wouldn’t know that though, seeing as you don’t know anything about him.”

Rino’s shoulders sag, hunching in on himself as your words sink in. It doesn’t take a genius to realize you’re right. Nico has left his family before, gone out on his own. He’d sure as hell do it again, especially for you.

“What do you want from me?” Rino finally sighs, defeated.

“I’m so glad you asked,” you faux smile at him, digging into your pocket for your phone. The voice note app is already up and you hit record. “I want to know why.”

~~~~

“Hey, we’re at the house. Where are you guys?”

Dawson glances at you, wincing when he returns his gaze back to the road in front of him. Dabbing at your busted lip with your bandana, you shift uncomfortably.

“We’re on our way home,” you say vaguely, stomach cramping. Nico’s gonna see right through it, is going to know something is wrong.

“Where did you go?” He asks, an edge in his tone.

Fluttering your eyes shut, you beg. “I can’t tell you right now, but I need you to please trust me Nico.”

All background noise that was previously filtering in through the speaker cuts off. He’s moved into another room, he’s starting to worry.

“Y/n,” he says, the use of your full name making your tongue heavy with guilt. “What happened? Are you ok?”

“Yes,” you assure insistently. “I’m fine, I’m with Dawson and he’s fine too. We just-I can’t say this to you over the phone, ok?”

Nico’s quiet for a moment. “Ok, yeah.” His voice sounds small, like it’s stuck in his chest. It’s the tone he gets when he’s overthinking, when he’s letting himself spiral. “You promise me you’re ok?”

“Yes,” you say, smiling a bit. Sometimes you don’t understand how Nico got so good at his job because he can be way too sweet for this world.

“A-and Dawson is too?”

You can see the surprise on Mercer’s face at the question, wide eyes falling to the screen of the car where Nico’s name and image is displayed.

“Yeah he’s ok,” you promise. “We’re only a few streets away so I’ll see you soon, ok?”

“Ok,” he says, sighing again. “Be safe.”

“We will.” You hang up the call, slumping back in your seat and groaning. How the fuck are you supposed to do this, to tell him that the man that was supposed to protect him has done the exact opposite.

“Y-you can’t tell him,” Mercer mumbles, and when he looks at you it’s with a sadness you’ve never seen on him before. “How the fuck are you supposed to tell him?”

Your thoughts exactly.

~~~~

Nico and the boys are in the kitchen when you and Dawson come in from the garage. At the sight of Mercer in his combat gear and the case of his gun on his shoulder, they all scramble to their feet. The sound of barstools scratching across the floors is loud in the now silent room.

“What the fuck happened to you?”

Nico is on you in an instant, the door barely being shut behind you before he’s crowding you against it.

“I’m ok,” you say, but he’s grabbing at your face with soft fingers, crouching down until those big brown eyes are right in front of yours. The sight makes emotion swell in your chest, and you have to try hard not to cry for him.

“Tell me who did this?”

His thumb brushes over the wound and you hiss, squeezing your eyes shut. Behind him, Mercer drops his gun onto the counter, beginning to unstrap his weapons.

“I will,” you swear, “but I need it to be just us, ok?”

Nico’s jaw clenches, eyes sweeping over your face and he rises to his full height. “Everybody out,” he calls over his shoulder. “Now.”

Jack and Luke grumble something unintelligible but they shuffle out of the kitchen, dragging Alex with them. Mercer finishes dropping his gear onto the table, casting you a long glance before he too makes his way to the dining room.

“Nico,” Mercer says softly, caught in the doorway. That sadness from before bleeds into his eyes, and he takes a slow breath. “I-I love you, ok?”

He’s caught off guard by the sentiment, blinking in confusion but then he’s nodding thoughtfully. “I love you too Dawson.”

It’s not something the boys say to each other often, the statement going more shown than spoken. The boys used to tease him when he’d say it to you, joke that they didn’t even know he knew how to say those words.

The kitchen falls silent after Dawson leaves, and then Nico is looking back at you. He looks…sad. Everything about him is droopy, the pout of his lips, the way his eyes have gone all big and moony.

“Y-you didn’t call me,” he whispers, breaking your heart. “Why wouldn’t you call me?”

He stumbles back when you throw yourself at him, locking your arms around his neck and tucking your face into his shoulder. But he doesn’t hesitate to hold you, arms wrapping around your waist and squeezing you into his chest.

“I’m sorry Nico,” you mutter, “I’m so sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he says fiercely, “just tell me what happened? Who touched you?”

You close your eyes as if that’ll shield you from the next words out of your mouth. “It was your dad, Nico.”

His whole body tenses, a stuttered breath leaving his lips and you can feel the way his hold on you slackens. “What?”

“It was Rino,” you pull back from him, digging into your pockets for your phone and Lena’s. “All of it was him.” You hold them out to him, avoiding looking into his eyes as he takes them from your hand.

“It was in her deleted photos,” you explain, “texts with Rino, the code off his desk. He was the one that instructed her to take me, he set it all up.”

A hand cups your jaw, urges you to look up at him and you suck in a nervous breath. It sucks and it’s gonna hurt him, but he has to hear it from you. “I-I don’t want to see it on there. I want you to tell me what happened.”

So you do. You tell him about Lena’s friends at the bar, about how they seemed to be warning you of her deal. Then you tell him about the phone, about how you kept it because you still didn’t understand how Lena and Marcelo got the plan and resources to kidnap you. That you went through it this morning when he was in the shower, that her camera roll was filled with photos of her recently at his parent’s house. That it felt like someone was watching you that day you were there.

And you tell him about Mercer. That you sent the other boys with him because you needed someone who would follows your orders perfectly, who would be smart and loyal and strong. Someone who would lie to him if needed for you. You lay out the details of how you got into the house and found his office, how Rino came in and fought with you, slapped you. That Mercer made sure he didn’t do anything else.

Lastly, you tell him the why.

Rino had kids with the intention that they’d uphold his reputation, they’d keep his values and beliefs in mind always. And when Nico left, he disgraced them. That to Rino, that was a shame on the whole family. Nico had gotten lucky with his success there, but Rino didn’t think it would last.

And he thought it’d be you that ruined it. Because romantic partners, husband and wives are not to be mixed in with it. They’re meant to be seen and not heard, meant to be symbolic in the business of old fashioned values.

Nico was going to ruin his success, the family he built by letting you have a real role in the inner workings.

So Rino got ahold of Lena the night he heard Nico brought you to Switzerland. She had been staying at the house, was wanting to have a role in the business again. Rino offered her the role Nico was originally supposed to have in Germany, but first she needed to get you out of the picture and Nico back to Europe.

It was her trial, her test into getting back in. And it was Rino’s test of you.

Nico, to your surprise, doesn’t react at all as you talk. He’s like a still oil-painting, one hand clutching yours and the other holding the phones. The only giveaway that he’s still listening is the way his eyes shift between yours.

“What did you do to him?” Nico asks after you’ve finished.

“I-“ you swallow heavily. “I told him that if he ever came near you or our family that I’d kill him. And if he doubted me, he shouldn’t doubt you’d do the same thing.”

Nico blinks, a deep sadness settling into his gaze. It’s a different look than his usual grumpiness, like it’s heavier. You’re not sure what reaction you were expecting, maybe anger or vengeance. But not this.

This look that makes him appear so small, like a child that’s lost his mom in the grocery store. Lost, he looks so lost.

“Your poor face,” he whispers, glassy eyes falling to your lip. His thumb strokes next to your mouth again, careful to not disturb it. “I should kill him.”

You don’t say anything. You don’t know what you could possibly say to that. Nico doesn’t seem to be looking for a response though, continuing on under his breath.

“He deserves it. No one hurts you and gets to walk away, no one gets to treat you like that.”

Nico brings you into his chest again, caging you in with his thick biceps. You hold him tightly, trying to ignore the fact that Nico isn’t really coming to terms with what happened, and on top of that, you’ve gotta find a way to break the news to Luca and Nina.

And worst of all, Katja Hischier.

[empyrealarthropod]

not sure how to put this but does anyone else feel like some of season two’s writing and the stakes constantly being upped has undermined several important moments and instances of character development from season one?

i don’t understand the reasoning behind throwing in so many new conflicts? instead of the story expanding upon and continuing the first season, exploring what it would look like for piltover and zaun to be at war or teetering on the edge of it, how the characters would be affected by it and decisions they would make in response, they’re being involuntarily flung across dimensions and attacked by eldritch monstrosities.

the piltover vs zaun conflict, the center of the plot that everything else revolved around, was present in act one but is now being gradually sidelined and minimized for the sake of ominous magic drama and painting noxus as the one true villain.

the council attack was a grand finale, the culmination of long standing conflicts and tension that finally tipped the balance into war. but now, nevermind, it only killed a few nobodies with a lot of political power but about 30 seconds of screentime. and the blast radius was tiny.

the characters’ decisions and internal struggles are either portrayed in an unclear way that doesn’t communicate what’s going on in their heads or flat out explained by them in conversation. flashbacks are, instead of glimpses of the past overlaid with current events while the present version of the character works through their emotions about it, just straight up replays of scenes from season 1. nobody sits with their thoughts and considers what they want because there’s no time for anything that isn’t pushing the plot along at breakneck speed.

vander, as the person he used to be, served his purpose in the story. yes, he was still alive in warwick, but he would never be the same. but now suddenly it’s all family group hugs? one flashback lets him regain full control? he’s mentally back to his past self and making heartwarming comments about his love for his daughters, with no explanation for how but the power of friendship? it felt about as plausible as if silco swam back up and booked a family therapy appointment.

vander and silco knowing jinx and vi’s parents and the vaguely implied love triangle is an absolutely egregious retcon. there was no need to add that. it doesn’t add any depth, just feels forced and implausible. not everything needs a reveal of “oh these characters were actually already connected before the deliberately chosen circumstances that brought them together and played a large part in defining what they were to each other.” it completely changes their dynamics, the timeline makes no sense, and the world isn’t that small.

i get that jinx feeling unmoored and lost might kind of be the point, that not knowing what to do is just where she is right now. but instead of being a step along her way, it ends up feeling like it’s just an excuse to not do anything with her character, because she suddenly doesn’t have any relevance to the plot whatsoever? she’s just been placed in a box off to the side. and the moment she just started to get out of that lost state and begin thinking about who she was and what she wanted, she gets kicked right back into another grief arc and another devastating loss that’ll likely sideline her again with only three episodes left. at this point there won’t even be time for her to do anything outside of her own head but maybe contributing to the final battle in some dramatic action sequence. that just isn’t a complete or satisfying character arc in any way and i don’t have any idea how they’re going to end it in a way that doesn’t feel cheap or like it’s missing something.

vi is completely adrift too, but that makes sense with the rest of her story, or at least more sense than her immediate flip into wanting to kill her sister. i loved isha but she didn’t get a backstory or personality. she was reduced to a vehicle for the plot. caitlyn’s anger has suddenly dissipated, which could be explained by the progression of grief and her growing tired of war, but it comes immediately after that sequence where she was set up to be a much more authoritarian character and go on a downward spiral. like i assumed that her donning the cloak was the starting point for the next phase of her character, but then that arc was completely fast forwarded to the end. has ekko had more than two speaking lines? is heimerdinger ever going to be held accountable for his neglect? does jinx genuinely care about being a symbol or hero or is this another attempt at seeking outside validation to reassure herself? does she know what she wants? will she ever get the chance to find out? will vi ever manage to define her identity as anything other than a protector if she only has three episodes left where she’ll probably be busy fighting noxus and god or whatever insane thing is going to happen? has ambessa ever showed any vulnerabilities or human qualities besides her blunt statements that she’s protecting her family? was it necessary for ambessa to be the evil force behind renni and the chemtank’s attack, when renni had the motivation and ability to do it herself without prompting? where is sevika? what happened with the chembaron war? is zaun completely without a governing body? how are the citizens of piltover affected by noxian involvement? is there time to answer all of this?

also, i can’t figure out what it’s trying to say, if there even is anything it’s trying to say.

i don’t mean to be excessively negative, and i should clarify, i do still like the second season overall. it’s visually gorgeous and there have definitely been moments i loved. but it’s leaning closer to the enjoyability of a fun action movie than the impact of something that hits you in the feelings and leaves you thinking about it and considering it for months or years after. i would have been willing to sacrifice half the action if it let them focus on making the character writing as multifaceted and interesting as it was season one

[theonlyhonoredone]

Choso BF Headcanons

Pairing: Choso Kamo x Reader

Warnings: none

Summary: my idea of how Choso is as a partner

Masterlist

bf!Choso is extremely loyal and extremely doting. There’s a learning curve, you’re the first person he’s ever had romantic feelings for after all, but he’s always happy to put in the work to make you both happy. He’ll scan the web and ask around for new date ideas, Yuji will send him romantic movies to watch and Choso will study them with a pen and paper in hand. He’ll present to you a long list of date ideas and ask you to pick your favorites so he can plan accordingly. 

bf!Choso is always flustered by pda. If you so much as hold his hand or kiss his cheek you can bet his whole face is turning red. He’s not much better in private either. If you snuggle up to his chest his heart feels like it’s going to explode. Sitting in his lap leaves him to sit awkwardly until you prompt him to hold your waist. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been together, you always manage to fill him with butterflies.

bf!Choso isn’t nearly as social as his youngest brother. He enjoys smaller outings with just a few people to big parties. He’s very family oriented and he loves seeing you bond with his brothers. He’s happy to meet your family or bring you into his if they aren’t in the picture. Tender moments with the people he loves most make him happier than anything. He loves holidays and sees them as a great opportunity to bring all his favorite people together. He's a great gift giver.

bf!Choso is overprotective of you just like he is his brothers. You know it comes from a place of love, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t become overbearing sometimes. It will take a few long talks and some on the field experience for him to back off a bit. He’s always worried about the people he loves getting hurts and the fact that he can’t feel you the same way he can with his brothers only serves to make him worry even more. He’ll feel better once he sees for himself how capable you are of protecting yourself. Once he learns to take a few steps back you two are able to work really well together. Having you there to watch his back and being able to watch yours too brings him a lot of peace. He enjoys being a team.

bf!Choso loves it when you steal his clothes. They always come back to him smelling like you and he hates it when he has to wash the smell off. He thinks you look beautiful in everything but it warms his heart when he sees you wearing something of his. If you really want to make him happy you’ll get you both a piece of matching jewelry, something both of you can wear all the time that represents each other. He’ll fiddle with it whenever you’re apart and press a kiss to it if he needs to calm his nerves.

 bf!Choso loves staying with you before you move in. He likes how the whole space feels like you and finds everything there cozy and calming. When you do move in together he really enjoys decorating together and finding things you both love for the house. He loves to put up the pictures of the two of you, your friends, and his brothers. He loves being able to see all his favorite people looking so happy all together. Doing things together around the house makes him really happy: folding laundry, cooking, cleaning, it doesn’t matter as long as you do it together.

bf!Choso is not a morning person. He loves snuggling up in bed with you, he likes to bury his face against your skin and he loves how calm it is when you cozy up together in bed. There is almost nothing he hates more than having to wake up from that. Getting up out of your warm embrace always sours his mood and he will attempt to keep you in bed with him for as long as he can. Late mornings are his favorite. He likes to stay in bed long after the sun comes up and not move until your grumbling stomach commands you to get up.

bf!Choso is new to the modern era and finds a lot of freedom in the great variation of style he sees in the people around him. He has a lot of fun finding his own style, enjoying experimenting with his hair and clothes. He may pick up a few piercings and tattoos too as he discovers exactly what kind of aesthetic he likes. He feels the most comfortable experimenting around you because he knows you won’t judge him, you’re always encouraging. If you experiment with your look he always returns this energy and encourages you to try as many new things as you want. He thinks you look your best when you feel good about yourself and the reality is he’d think you’re the most beautiful woman that’s ever lived no matter what you had on.

bf!Choso will annoy you with his extreme indecisiveness. It isn’t a horrible trait by any means, but when you’re starving and he wants to carefully weigh out the merits of every restaurant in the city it drives you a little crazy. He’s a very thoughtful person with everything he does and while that is often a good thing, there are some decisions that don’t require intensive thought and consideration. There have definitely been a few times you fell asleep waiting for him to decide what movie to put on.

bf!Choso who can’t keep his feelings to himself. He gushes about you to his brothers and friends all the time, telling them about whatever cute thing you did that morning or how excited he is for an upcoming date. Everyone can see how much he loves you. For anyone who sees the two of you together it’s easy to see you’re equally obsessed.