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owletstarlet · 9 months ago

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patron saint of the lost causes (1/2)

“You can stop looking at him like that.” Taki’s voice is frank, but not unkind. Katsumi could not be less in the mood for whatever the hell kind of conversation this is about to be. “Like what,” he replies anyhow. “Like you broke his best friend."

(For @goodlucktai. You know what you did.

ao3 link | part 2

The thing is, Katsumi really doesn’t want to hear that he couldn’t have known what was going to happen. He knows. Knows because nobody will let him forget it. Knows from his 2AM search history the night after, curled up on his side on a guest futon in the Fujiwaras’ sitting room, feeling pinned down by the blue glow of his phone screen under the duvet.

Here’s how it happens.

***

It’s not that it’s uncomfortable, exactly, to be alone with Tanuma Kaname while walking the forty-five minute round trip between the temple and the combini through nothing but trees and rice paddies and still, thick summer air. Tanuma’s a decent guy. Quiet, thoughtful. And, as he’d made very clear within two minutes of Katsumi meeting him, fiercely loyal.

All good traits, really. But carrying a completely meaningless conversation with someone he honestly doesn’t know all that well doesn’t seem to be within his skill set. And that’s fine, it’s whatever.

It’s just that Katsumi’s starting to feel like a jackass when he’s the only one who’s talking.

School’s been out less than a week, and for some godforsaken reason he’s been talked into coming all the way out to Hitoyoshi by the group chat he’d been added to months ago, for some other godforsaken reason. The conversation had turned to potential vacation plans—the seaside, or a theme park. And it’s not like Katsumi would’ve said no; he’s got a whole month to fill here. But when Tanuma had either hedged or failed to respond altogether, the others had gotten it out of him pretty quickly that the better part of the month both before and after Obon would be full up with temple preparation and events. Apparently, even back when the temple had still stood vacant, some of the locals who had ancestors’ graves out in the crumbling cemetery there would still come out to tidy up as best they could and leave behind their flowers and incense and prayers. This is the second Obon since the temple had reopened, and not only were more visitors expected, but they’d need to be able to properly host them and provide an adequate place of worship.

From just that couple of messages, the others seemed to work out in short order just how overwhelmed he was. Which was news to Katsumi; sure, the guy wasn’t much of a texter, or talker, for that matter—but the messages had just seemed brief, concise, and apologetic.

But when they all show up on the temple doorstep a week later and Katsumi sees the way Tanuma’s shoulders sag with sheer relief, he knows the others were right.

Thus began a multi-day frenzy of scrubbing wood floors, polishing every metal surface within an inch of its life, weeding, dusting, and near-vicious refusals of Tanuma’s father’s offers to compensate them for their efforts. Katsumi certainly wasn’t against the concept of getting paid for busting his ass like this all day, but the man was drowning in paperwork and nonstop phone calls and visitations on top of whatever else it is that priests do all day, so he’d let it drop.

“He really does just radiate that dutiful son energy, huh,” Katsumi says to Kitamoto one day, leaning on a rake and blinking the sweat out of his eyes in the brutal 2PM heat, watching Tanuma pause to tug a crooked, bright red knit cap back into its place on the head of a tiny Jizo statue with endless care. He didn’t mean it as an insult, but it sounds kind of dickish coming out of his mouth anyhow. “Just looking at him is making me tired.”

Kitamoto hums. “That’s part of it,” he says, at length. “But this is his home, too.”

***

Katsumi feels sort of bad that Tanuma has to make this annoyingly long walk just because he himself doesn’t know how to get to the nearest Lawson. He’d lost a fierce, best-of-ten coin flip battle with Nishimura over whose turn it was to pick up snacks. It’s not that it’s a nightmarish distance away considering they’re on the bare outskirts of town, it’s just the late afternoon sun beating down on them that makes him ready to commit homicide. And most of the way there between the wooded temple grounds and the main residential area is along a dusty gravel road between sunken rice fields, riddled with potholes and not especially worth it to navigate with a bike.

And Lawson isn’t even good.

Precisely none of this is Tanuma’s fault. This is an objective fact that he, of course, knows.

But they’ve only just left the store, and Katsumi ran out of random topics to fill up the stagnant air about ten minutes ago. The best he’s got at the moment, short of intermittent bitching about the heat, is his completely unfounded opinion of some new game he’d seen an ad for at the register which he never intends to play.

And Tanuma doesn’t look especially anxious, or at least not like he’s here under duress or anything—he was the one who volunteered to show Katsumi the way— but he doesn’t look especially comfortable, either. He’s already fished a bottle of tea out of the shopping bag, fiddling with the wrapper between sips and watching the dusty gravel crunch beneath their shoes. His responses aren’t rude, just a little off key, a subdued smattering of ‘oh’s and ‘hm’s and ‘I see’s that don’t always quite sync up with Katsumi’s words, a second too late or too early.

Maybe it’s the truly ridiculous heat that’s getting to the guy. But he’s drinking his tea, and he’s wearing the same old wet towel he’s had slung around his neck all week, ojiisan style. He’d just re-soaked it again in the little sink outside the combini bathroom. It’s funny, Katsumi thinks, that Tanuma’s such a painfully self-conscious person, but then there’s these odd little things here and there that it doesn’t even seem to occur to him to be self-conscious about at all. He didn’t get out much as a kid, from what Katsumi’s heard. It’d be almost endearing if Katsumi was in any sort of mood to be endeared. As it stands it’s too fucking hot out here and now he kind of wants a stupid neck towel too.

Katsumi doesn’t want to make shit awkward, not when he’s staying in his house. But why had it been somehow easier to talk to Tanuma when they were being chased around some hell-mansion about to be murdered by some ghost-doll-things.

He’s not gonna take it personally. Even with his actual friends, where he seems most at ease, Katsumi’s seen him get fidgety, fingers worrying at a fraying shirt hem or drumming on his knee like he doesn’t always quite know how to physically handle too many eyes on him at once, or so many voices in the room. And more often than not, if one of the others picks up on this, he’s seen them seamlessly take the volume down a notch, give him some room to breathe, a little radius of calm. As though his comfort level is some sort of sixth sense for them all.

And Katsumi’s starting to wonder if running his mouth so that Tanuma wouldn’t have to was really the best course of action here. Maybe silence, comfortable or otherwise, would’ve spared them both.

Hell, too late now.

“…and it’s only available on the newest consoles, because of course it is, and even though Sakatani managed to get his hands on a copy and says he’ll let me play, apparently the graphics are kind of ass, so—uh. You good over there?”

Tanuma’s pinching the bridge of his nose, mouth twisting a little and pace falling a half-step behind Katsumi. He doesn’t really answer, just gives an absent diplomatic little hum like he has done for most of the conversation.

Katsumi stops walking.

“Hey.”

And Tanuma honest-to-god almost shuffles right past him, reaching up to rub at his temple now. He only stops when Katsumi snags the strap of the little freezer bag that he’d brought in a thoughtful yet desperate bid to keep the drinks cold and the tops of Nishimura’s chocorooms from all melting together inside the box. Tanuma blinks hard, like all the dust in the air has gunked up in his eyes.

Katsumi frowns. “Your head hurts?”

Tanuma just blinks again, nods once. The look on his face is strange. Vague, kind of.

Katsumi swears under his breath. “Hey,” he says again, louder, when Tanuma’s gaze slides away and out of focus. He grabs his shoulder, shakes him just enough to get his hazy attention back.

“Is this some youkai thing?” He tries to make the words slow and clear. “’Cause if we need to run…” Their chances wouldn’t be stellar, probably, out in the very-wide-open with no visible houses or people that Katsumi can see, but if they booked it they might make it back to the temple in 20 minutes. Barring being gutted in a rice paddy by invisible monsters.

Tanuma frowns, like he’s trying to grasp at the edges of his focus. “I don’t…”

“You don’t know? Or you don’t think so?” If there were time, Katsumi would feel like an ass for getting in his face and snapping at him. But he can feel Tanuma listing forward where he’s still gripping his shoulder, and he puts another hand under his elbow to steady him. “Should I call someone?”

Blink, blink. Apparently, that was too many questions at once. “…hot,” is what Tanuma finally settles on, in a small voice. Then his knees buckle.

Fuck.

Katsumi just barely manages to keep Tanuma from a total faceplant. He’s not so heavy, but it’s so abrupt that trying to catch him sends Katsumi falling back hard onto his own ass as Tanuma’s knees hit the ground.

Katsumi yelped as they went down, but Tanuma hasn’t made a sound. They’re both on their knees. Katsumi’s got him by the shoulders, and his head’s lolling forward, bumping into Katsumi’s chest.

And, shit. He was not lying. Katsumi can feel the heat rolling off him. He manages to maneuver a hand up to the side of his neck, and very nearly yanks it away, hissing through his teeth.

“Right, so,” he mutters. “Probably not youkai shit, then.”

Probably not doesn’t mean definitely not, though, and even as he’s trying to lower Tanuma fully onto the parched ground, curled onto his side, Katsumi’s fishing out his phone.

One bar. He’ll take it.

He hesitates for a second, torn between dialing Natsume, firing off a group message, or just calling an ambulance. He settles on the first—Natsume’s got the fastest mode of transport, which also happens to be an apparently giant and terrifying monster, if Sensei’s own words are to be believed, so that’s two birds one stone.

He hits Natsume’s name, fingers shaking.

And, dead air. Not even a dial tone.

He swears, checks the screen. Zero bars. A stupid little red x where the bars ought to be.

Goddamn backwoods towns and their goddamn backwoods reception.

“Hey.” He lays a hand on Tanuma’s shoulder. Katsumi can’t see his face, but his breaths are coming short and harsh. “I’m gonna borrow your phone.”

Less than one minute later and he’s given it up. Tanuma’s got the same network carrier, and an older phone to boot. It’s like there’s some fucked-up barricade made of yellowing rice fields, choking air and far-off cicada screeches between themselves and outside human contact.

Well then.

Tanuma’s eyes are open now. Not a lot, but that’s got to be better than passed out. Katsumi manages to work an arm under his shoulders, get his opposite hand under his head and neck. “Let’s get some tea in you,” he says, because he’s not sure what the fuck else to do. He can feel a pulse that’s far too quick thrumming under his fingertips, can see the intense splotchy flush across his cheeks that seems to have crept up out of nowhere. Tanuma doesn’t answer him, just scrunches up his eyes against the direct sun on his face, makes a small pained noise that makes Katsumi feel ill.

Making him drink turns out to be less than an inspired plan. He doesn’t seem to register the tea at first, letting it dribble down his chin, but then after a few slow gulps, he gags. And then proceeds to be sick, all over Katsumi.

“Eh. Didn’t like this shirt, anyways,” Katsumi tells him, hoping to exude literally any emotion other than pure terror, and barely managing to turn Tanuma’s face away in time before he gags again.

By the time he finishes, there’s tears in his eyes, and his breaths are coming ragged and loud. He doesn’t seem to notice that Katsumi’s dug through the combini bag, sliding the 2 liter of mugicha under his head and neck like a pillow, and tucked the bottle of Calpis that Taki had asked for underneath his armpit. The rest of Tanuma’s own bottle he upends over his neck and chest, soaking his towel and the top of his shirt. That, at least, elicits a reaction, a faint confused “hm” that would be perfectly reasonable for anyone whose friend has just drenched them in a bottle of jasmine tea.

It makes Katsumi smile, just a bit. “Gotta cool you down. Sorry.” He’s got no idea if it’s the correct thing to do; he’s based the entire tactic on some random lackluster TV drama he’d seen years ago, where some captain of a school track team overheated during a practice, and her teammates tried to care for her on the field while someone fetched a teacher.

At the very least, it didn’t seem to be hurting. His eyes are open wider now, marginally less clouded over. Katsumi’s positioned him on his side again in case of more puking, his cheek squashed against the tea bottle, and he seems to be focused on some spot on the gravel past Katsumi. He looks like he wants to say something, mouth forming around the shape of words, but nothing comes out.

Katsumi turns. There, lying maybe a half meter away on the ground, is something small and rectangular. Some kind of talisman, Katsumi thinks; it’s made of thin pale wood and covered in some inked-in kanji and symbols he can’t make out. He doesn’t touch it, at first. “This is yours?”

Tanuma nods, just a little, then screws his eyes shut like his head is protesting the movement. But by his side his fingers twitch vaguely in Katsumi’s direction. It must’ve fallen out of his pocket when Katsumi was getting his phone. Katsumi scoops it up and places it in his palm, and Tanuma’s fingers close immediately around it.

He digs his own phone out again, an exercise in futility, and dials 119, resisting the urge to chuck it into the field as the call refuses to connect. It’s not like he couldn’t half-drag, half-carry Tanuma back towards the nearest house if he really needed to, but god knows how long it’d take, and even with his net zero medical expertise it seems like a bad idea to be moving him from this spot unless it’s on a stretcher, or on the back of a giant invisible wolf monster.

Tanuma’s staring at nothing at all again, his knuckles white from gripping the talisman. Katsumi frowns, grabs Tanuma’s wrist.

“You’re gonna break it. The wood’s pretty thin.”

Tanuma, predictably, ignores him. Even as weak as he is, with his thumb digging into the center of the thing, he’s likely to snap it in half.

But he doesn’t, or can’t, resist when Katsumi takes it from him. “Let’s keep this in one piece, huh. We need all the damned luck the gods want to chuck our way right now.” He’s about to slide it safely back into Tanuma’s pocket when he pauses, glancing down at the talisman.

“You’re sure nothing’s about to pop out and eat us, right?”

But Tanuma’s eyes have fallen shut again. He doesn’t seem to have passed out; he’s still gasping like he’s run a marathon.

“Right. Gonna take that as a yes.” He finishes tucking the talisman away, then slides his hand up under Tanuma’s fringe. He frowns. The intense heat, he was expecting. What he was not expecting was the desert-dryness of his skin. Katsumi’s own hair’s been plastered grossly to his forehead all week long, only to poke up and frizz at odd angles throughout the day. He hadn’t noticed earlier because of the damp towel and the tea-soaked shirt, but Tanuma’s not sweating.

He swallows back panic. God knows how he’s got any more panic to spare, really. “Look,” he says, not expecting an answer. “Nobody’s coming, because apparently nobody in this entire fucking town uses this road except us, so I’m gonna get help.” He blows out a breath. “I think we passed a pay phone. Ten minutes ago? Maybe less. I’ll make it five. If you get eaten by monsters while I’m gone and I ran in this weather for nothing I am gonna be pretty damn irritated.”

***

The only coffee the vending machines have, at least on this floor, is some dismal off-brand that only comes black. But Katsumi resolutely ignores the acid roiling in his stomach when Kitamoto passes him one and pops the tab. It’s something to do. Chug coffee, scroll his phone. Rinse, repeat. At least it’s cold.

“Hey.”

Something lands in his lap. A squashed-looking cinnamon roll, another vending-machine offering.

“Eat that too or you’ll puke again, probably,” Nishimura tells him.

Katsumi has to bite back the reflexive dickish retort. Nishimura looks just about as shit as Katsumi feels, but he’s still got it in him to be kind. Katsumi’s got nothing in him but raw nerves and stomach acid, at this point.

“Right,” he mutters. “Thanks.”

There’s not even a good reason anymore for the weird shitty haze over his brain. When Tanuma’s dad had called, just before three AM and only two-ish hours after they’d been forced to leave the hospital last night, the news had been good. He was awake, talking a little, and the fever definitely wasn’t gone but the numbers were creeping back downwards. They’d need a few days, at least, to run some barrage of tests and keep an eye out for lasting damage. Tanuma’s dad had been judiciously vague about just what kind of damage, but the half dozen browser pages on heatstroke currently open on Katsumi’s phone had given him a pretty grim idea.

The Fujiwaras’ house had been closest to the hospital, so they’d spent the remainder of the previous night all sleepless and huddled together on the floor of Natsume’s room. Katsumi hadn’t even put up a fight when they’d dragged his futon into the very center of the room between Kitamoto’s and Natsume’s, when Nishimura had idly flopped his own legs over Katsumi’s, or when Taki pulled up some aggressively cheerful magical girl anime on Natsume’s laptop to fill the dead air. When Sensei had tucked himself in by Katsumi’s hip and gone to sleep. When Touko-san had patted his arm, after their very late dinner, her eyes so gentle it hurt. He’d felt liminal, then, like he’d take off and run if he could just escape his own skin, but at least with the others all squashed up against him he could remember to breathe.

It's past 10 in the morning now. Visiting hours had started at 9, and they’d all piled on the first scheduled bus towards the hospital this morning and arrived before 8, anyhow. They had, of course, not been allowed to step foot out the door without a bag loaded up with bento lunches and a firm promise to Touko-san they’d be back by late afternoon when visiting hours had concluded to get some rest. Though she’d been saying something about “getting some things ready” to bring over herself for Tanuma and his dad, and based on the look on her face when she’d said it Katsumi’s half expecting her to march through the waiting room doors in the next hour or two like a woman on a mission with half the contents of the closest supermarket and drugstore loaded up in her arms. The thought makes his chest feel tight.

But they’d shown up just in time to be informed that Tanuma had an MRI among other things scheduled that morning, and that no, they did not know how long it would take.

Across from Katsumi, Natsume’s dozed off, despite his own best coffee-fueled efforts. He’s slumped sideways onto Taki, lank-haired and restless, flicking through an old magazine with disinterest as her heel bounces on the scuffed linoleum. Sensei’s perched across both their laps, still absurdly half-stuffed into the duffel bag in which they’d smuggled him through the hospital doors, which seems pretty pointless to Katsumi if he’s just going to sit there with his entire head sticking out at this point. But he seems entirely unbothered, his eyes closed; maybe asleep, maybe not. But they’re the only ones tucked over in this little alcove of a waiting room, and damn if not a soul has interrupted them for a good two hours.

It’s probably for the best that Natsume’s getting some sleep, really. He hadn’t gotten any more than Katsumi had; Katsumi had heard his muffled hitched breaths last night when they were all pretending to sleep. Out of all of them, he’s said the least this whole time.

“You can stop looking at him like that.”

Taki’s voice is frank, but not unkind.

Katsumi could not be less in the mood for whatever the hell kind of conversation this is about to be. “Like what,” he replies anyhow.

“Like you broke his best friend,” Nishimura says, lowly, before letting out a slight oof like he’s been elbowed in the ribs.

Damn. Alright then.

None of them seem to be holding their breath for him to respond, at least. They don’t seem to know what to say, either, really. He’s weighing the pros and cons of just fleeing to the bathroom when Kitamoto finally says, “Natsume knows better than anyone that this isn’t on you.”

“Why?” Katsumi feels his gut give a little lurch. “Was it some kind of youkai shit after all, then?”

Taki shakes her head. “I mean, you’ll have to ask him, but. Sensei did go and check the area out last night and ask around and everything, and it all seemed normal.”

Sensei remains silent, naturally, but his ear flicks in Taki’s direction.

Kitamoto’s mouth twists. “What I meant was, just keeling over in random places with no warning or explanation is like. A hobby of Natsume’s.”

“We love it,” Nishimura mutters. “It’s great.”

Sensei huffs.

Katsumi glances at Natsume, still slack and dead to the world on Taki’s shoulder. And okay, maybe he kind of still looks like a stiff breeze could knock him over. But much less so than when they were kids. Less so even than the first time Katsumi had come to this town. “How many times constitutes a hobby?”

And Nishimura frowns, then honest-to-god starts counting on his fingers.

Taki watches him, mouth twisting like she’s considering it. “I guess it depends what counts as keeling over. Or what constitutes a warning.

“Enough times,” Kitamoto says, decisively.

Nishimura scuffs his toe on the floor. “And with me and Acchan, he’d just be lying through his teeth about it, for months, because he didn’t think he could—“

Could what, Katsumi wonders, but Nishimura never finishes the thought. Kitamoto bumps their shoulders together Nishimura huffs, apparently relinquishing the rant building inside him, but Katsumi thinks the look on his face, the tightness in his eyes, is just this side of grief.

“Anyways,” Nishimura says, after an uncomfortable beat, sounding only slightly more subdued. “Even if you don’t wanna hear it, you’re the Big Damn Hero in this situation. No ifs-ands-or-buts, okay. We all know it. Natsume knows it.” Taki nods, flint-eyed like she’s daring him to argue.

“You can’t predict this stuff,” Kitamoto adds, after a moment, his expression hard to parse. “With anyone. And you’ll just make yourself crazy thinking you can.”

“Okay,” is all Katsumi can think of to say. It sounds dismissive, probably, but it’s all he’s got right now. He watches Natsume scrunch up his nose in his sleep. The council hath spoken, and he is too goddamned tired to refute them.

tbc

#natsume yuujinchou #natsume yuujinchou fanfic #natsume yuujinchou fanfiction #natsume's book of friends #tanuma kaname #shibata katsumi #natsume takashi #nishimura satoru #kitamoto atsushi #taki tooru #goodlucktai #otherwise known as shibata katsumi’s crash course in maneuvering uncomfortable friendships and also medical emergencies #found fambly #did I disappear for like 3 years? yes. Will it happen again? Who's to say #this one fully took me a year but at least it's fully completed and I don't have to think about it anymore #incidentally just in time for obon because I was put on bedrest for pneumonia and somehow had both the time and the motivation #owlet's fanfic

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acorviart · 1 year ago

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everyone should attempt an artisan craft at some point in their life because it would cut down the number of comments questioning why handmade goods like ceramics or textile craft or woodworking are so expensive

and this is an unrealistic expectation, but I think the attempt should include seeing through to the end at least one "finished" item, no matter how clumsy or lumpy your first attempts might be. like to me, there's a huge difference in perspective between attempting to learn how to crochet or throw a pot for a few days, acknowledging that it's harder than it looks and giving up, versus committing to finishing that scarf or clay pot you started and working on it for weeks while you painstakingly learn from your mistakes and grow attached to your project while also simultaneously hating it.

once you finish the latter, your perspective changes from "why does this crocheted blanket cost $200" to "holy shit I can't believe they're charging $200 for this crocheted blanket instead of $2000" because you may have known crocheting is hard, you may have easily agreed with the idea that "handmade goods take time and effort" even before attempting a craft, but now you know firsthand the absolute time sink it takes to make things. like yeah dude, that one item took you 2 months to make and probably wasn't even an ultra complex item if it was the first thing you made, now imagine attaching an hourly wage to that time to calculate the cost (and this is ignoring every nuance of the artistic element and master crafters being able to work faster/charge higher because of their years and years of experience)

anyway this rant has been motivated by a comment I saw on someone else's ceramic post asking why a mug was $60 and they understand it's handmade but $60 just seems overpriced, and bro do you know how long ceramics take to make. that mug probably took at minimum 3 weeks between how long it takes to throw the mug, dry partially, trim the mug, dry fully, bisque fire, wait a day for the kiln to cool, sand and paint and glaze, glaze fire, wait a day for the kiln to cool, take product photography of the mug, write description and list the mug online for sale, im not even including the skill needed to complete all these steps without the mug literally exploding or collapsing while also making it an appealing piece of art, aaaaaaaaaaaaa

#$60 is overpriced my ass #if I priced my ceramics by the exact number of hours they took literally no one would buy anything #holding up a plate like oh yeah I started this in uhhhhhhhhhhh august and it finished in december #wrote this intending it to be a rant and delete post but im sending it out into the world

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s1rawb3rry · 2 months ago

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Cupid’s arrow has struck… the wrong target!

Oh cupid… do you love me, or do you love me not?

synopsis: As a cupid, Y/N's job has always been to make people fall in love– that has been her task for centuries. However, everything goes horribly wrong when Jake accidentally locks eyes with her instead of his intended match. Now, she's stuck with a hopelessly in-love Jake, following her around like a lovesick puppy. The worst part? Cupids aren’t allowed to fall in love…

word count: 10.3k

warnings: fluff fluff fluff, no smut, maybe a little suggestive, absolutely smitten and hopelessly in love jake, he fell first and fell harder, acts of service jake, jake is somewhat yn's boss, magic (???)

genres: office au, cupid au, rom-com, slow burn

pairing: enhypen Jake x reader

featuring: Chungha

a/n: oh my god this took FOREVER but im so glad its done im so happy with it hehe

Taglist: @heestoleurgirl @stariekis @jaehoodies @morganaawriterr @luvashli@kireistrawberryjayla @annovaz @bambieheeseunglee @firstclassjaylee @flowerwinds @veilstqr(comment if you want me to add / remove you from the list <3)

⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯

Cupids don’t wear halos and wings, or float around on fluffy clouds. At least, not anymore. We live among humans, blending in seamlessly, living for the purpose of matchmaking. Year round, we work behind the scenes of every soulmate pairing. This has been my classified, top secret occupation in the world for centuries, that I wouldn't trade for anything. When I'm off the clock, I work at a dull office job– that I love!– but it's boring enough to allow me to keep up with my much more important tasks.

Seeing my Boss slowly making his way near my desk, I planted my hands on my keyboard and started to type away, pretending to be fully immersed in the spreadsheets that are on my computers. In actuality, my mind was completely preoccupied, I kept eyeing the thin paper folder with the name “J.S.” on it. I was assigned my last assignment before my much-needed “cupid break”. The thought of rest made me giddy enough to move my hips in my office chair and hum an off tune harmony.

“What's the matter with you?” Chungha asked once she noticed my movement, her desk in front of mine. I smiled like a kid on christmas, well really rest did feel like christmas to me, “i got my final assignment before my break. I just have to find this Jake Sim.” I whispered to her. She smiled, sharing my excitement. Chungha has been one of my, if not the, closest friends for years. She is the person who knows everything about me, she knows me like the back of her hand. She is the one and only person that I could ever trust with this secret job.

“I swear I heard that name not too long ago… “ she said, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration, trying to remember. I jump in my seat, lean forward to reach her desk and hold her hand in mine, “I beg you, tell me who he is so I can go into this break early.” I whisper-yelled, misery clear in my voice.

As she was laughing at my desperation, the clear glass office door swung open with an exaggerated creak. Our Boss strides in like a man who will make the biggest announcement of the decade, again. He always makes this grade entry, makes you feel like he will say something important, only for you to find out it's absolutely nothing. His dramatic flair is only rivaled by his complete lack of self-awareness. I suppress an eye roll and stare back at my spreadsheets, these seem way more interesting in fact.

“Team!” he calls out, his voice booming as he stands at the front of the office room, making a couple chairs turn around and make multiple people stop talking and clicking their keyboards. “I’d like you all to meet your new supervisor for the upcoming project I already told you about–” he told us about a new project? – “This is Jake Sim, our new project manager. So he will only be here for a couple of months until the deal with the other company is sealed.”

My eyes widened and my ears perked up when I heard that name. I glanced at Chugha who was already looking at me with that same bulging eyes. There he is– Jake, my new assignment. He stood tall in the sharp lines of his suit, his dark hair neatly swept back, and his dark eyes carrying a quiet intensity. As the Boss continued talking, jake gave the group a friendly but reserved smile. As his eyes were scanning the room, as if he's trying to memorise our faces. I tried to follow his gaze to get his perspective on my colleagues. Maybe I can find his pair in the office?

As my eyes look back at him, our eyes lock. He held it for a second before he gave me another polite smile. I returned the smile fast enough before he continued his scan of the room. I perch up on my seat when I notice Jake staring for longer than usual at the other side. My eyes land on a coworker, Mira. Both of them also exchange a polite smile.

As the boss continued to babble about the new project, that familiar feeling comes to me: when an idea of a couple clicks in my mind. Jake and Mira, they seem perfect together, well on paper they do. I open my Jake’s paper file and quickly read the notes written on him, trying to confirm to myself that he is a perfect match for Mira. Warm personality. Charismatic. Loyal. Energetic… Oh, it’s spot on.

“Alright team, that's all for today. You can get back to your work.” he wrapped up his speech, which dragged on longer than needed, motioned to Jake to follow him. Jake smiled and nodded his head at us one last time before turning his back on us. I clicked my pen and started scribbling some notes about Mira in Jake’s file. I can not waste time on a case like this. I can get in and out quickly out of it, sending them on their merry way. I beamed with excitement, unwrapping a chocolate covered almond from my drawer and popping it in my mouth.

“I remember now where I heard his name,” Chungha whispered to me. I looked up from my notes, paying my attention back to her. “He has been going to the café I always go to after work. I heard the barista always calling his name, that's why it's familiar.”

“Wait, that's perfect,” I said as the idea sparked in my mind, “if we can get Mira to come with us to the café, I can absolutely do the job there.” I continued with Chungha nodding at me. “Leave it to me, I will ask her.” she said, getting up from her office chair. I watched as she walked over to Mira, starting up a conversation with her. A moment later, her head turns to me, smiling, I smile back and do a little wave to her.

I pull my eyes from her, when I notice the light of the office in front of us turn on. That office is almost always empty, so my surprise grew when I saw Jake again, standing at the doorstep with a small moving box. He walked over to the desk and placed the box on it. Oh that's his office now. Well, him being right across from us just made my job a whole lot easier. I can monitor the progress of my work firsthand, almost front-row seat to a movie I directed.

-♥︎-

As the workday wrapped up, the three of us settled on a table in the café, the scent of bitter roasted coffee beans filled the air, making me wrinkle my nose each time the barista made a new espresso. Mira and Chungha were chattering up a storm, drinking their coffee orders while I stirred my strawberry milkshake’s straw absentmindedly, barely registering anything that is being said. My focus was set on the door, waiting for him, in any minute, to come in. Every second that passes is a second closer to my break. I take a sip of my drink, trying to suppress my excitement.

Yet, nature called at the worst moment, “I'll be right back, I need to use the restroom,” I said, sliding out of my seat and leaving my milkshake barely touched. They nod at me before returning to their conversation.

As I step out a few minutes later, wiping my hands on a paper towel, I pause just outside the restroom door. As if it’s a twist from fate, I find myself standing in a perfect spot to have the perfect shot. Jake was standing, waiting for his coffee, not noticing me. His position is exactly where I need him, flawlessly aligned with Mira. Excitement ran through me, It’s almost too perfect.

Almost there… One clean shot– quick and easy.

Letting my muscle memory instinctively reach for a cupid arrow, I take a steady breath and discreetly wind up my arrow. My heart bubbles in my chest in anticipation. Just as I’m about to let the arrow fly…

“Hey, did you notice that–” Chungha said, coming from behind me, disturbing the silence.

I gasped, her sudden loud voice making me jump forward and making my heart leap to my throat. My hand jerks, my aim going completely rogue, accidentally hitting Jake. I gasped again, “oh my god, no!” panic sets in my bones as I walk forward to try to recover the arrow. Before I can even process the rest, my foot catches on a stray chair leg making my world tilt.

I closed my eyes, bracing my fall before I felt two tight arms around me, steadying me effortlessly. When air got back to my lungs, I opened my eyes to find Jake's face inches away from mine. Oh dear god, please no… “I’m so sorry,” I said, the words left out of my mouth with my mind running much faster. Am I sorry that I fell or that I accidentally struck him? This was not supposed to happen. He was supposed to see Mira, not me.

His usual polite warmth in his expression softens into something more tender, something deeper. His brows furrow just a little, as if he's suddenly aware of a feeling—a feeling that stirs something in him undeniable. The more I look at his eyes, the more my plan crumbles.

“Are you okay?” Jake asks, his voice low and surprisingly gentle, his gaze lingering a little too long. His grip on me is still tight, my heart and stomach felt twisted in knots, as if they were bound together. This doesn’t feel like love—it feels more like alarms blaring in my mind.

Chungha, my traitor of a best friend, noticed the mistake she just made. Her eyes darted between us, her face painted with realization. I could see her from the side of my eyes trying to come up with a last-minute fallback plan.

“No way!” she exclaimed almost cartoonishly with an exaggerated gasp, practically lunged forward tugging me out of his grip with force, “I—uh—I forgot something at the office! Come on, let’s go!” she lied, turning her heel to the opposite side of the cafe, with my heels right behind her.

With my heart still pounding, I slapped a 20 dollar bill on our table, grabbed my coat and pushed both Mira and Chungha out of the café. I could feel his piercing gaze on me as we were shuffling out of the café. He was still looking at me as I was walking away—like I was the center of his universe.

-♥︎-

Later that night, I stood in my dimly lit kitchen, surrounded by flour, sugar and butter. My stand mixer whirring loudly with the warm smell of cookies coming from my oven. My hands trembled as I measured out the flour, my mind still reeling from everything that had just happened. I turned off the mixer, slowly adding the flour.

Chungha leaned against the kitchen counter, looking in the oven to see the cookies. Then her eyes landed on the already freshly baked cookies on the counter, still warm. She watched my unsteady movement with a confused expression, her eyes held concern. “This is the batch number…?” she asks, leaving the question for me to finish.

I exhaled a shaky breath, trying to steady myself and my hands. “Baking calms me down,” I muttered, my voice tense, matching how my muscles felt, “besides, it’s the only thing that doesn’t make my head feel like it’s about to explode.”

“I’m sorry…” she said quietly after a moment passed, her voice full of guilt, referring back to what happened in the café. I sighed in defeat, putting down the mixing bowl. I gave her a weak but genuine smile, “it's not your fault. I'm the one who was impatient,” I said before going back to my bowl, “I never rushed the process of pairing a couple, look where that got me…"I trailed off, scraping the side of the bowl a little too roughly.

She stayed silent, looking at me, waiting for me to actually explode. My frustration bubbled up again when I dropped my spoon on the floor, even dropping spoons is putting me on edge. I pinched the bridge of my nose and took a deep breath to ground myself, “this whole situation is too risky,” I started once Chungha picked up my spoon and started washing it.

“Men liked me before, but none were under the influence of a Cupid’s arrow. It's just too strong. If this goes wrong, if I fall in love, I will systematically lose my job. I love my job, you know that.” I rambled, pouring out what's in my heart.

Chungha was silent, listening to me, “So… what now?” she asked, uncertainty laced her voice.

I exhaled a shaky breath, turning back to my mixing bowl, “I have one week. A week before the arrow’s effect turns into true feelings.” I said, grabbing a new, clean mixing spoon, not sure if I was trying to focus on the dough or just distract myself from my spiraling thoughts. My hands moved automatically, though my mind raced, “I have a week before this turns into a full-on disaster. If I don’t reverse the arrow in time.”

“That’s not a lot of time.” Chungha commented, taking a cookie. “You're not helping, Chungie,” I grumbled. She laughed, biting into a cookie, “don’t worry, we’re in this mess together.” she said, her hands found my tense shoulders, reassuring me. I just nodded, leaning into her.

I began to bake again, the nervous energy inside me didn’t dissipate. There was no time to waste. I couldn’t let him genuinely fall in love with me. Not when everything I’d worked for hung in the balance. My hands shook slightly as I carefully scooped the cookie dough onto the tray. I close my eyes for a second.

Focus. One week. I can reverse the arrow’s effect. I have to reverse it.

♥︎ DAY 1 ♥︎

I strolled into the office with my heels clicking behind me. I readjusted my purse on my shoulder when I noticed a pink drink sitting beside my keyboard. Condensation beads down the plastic cup, the whipped cream still holding its shape—fresh.

“You got me a milkshake?” I gasped in awe, turning to Chungha. She appeared from behind her screen, brows knitted together, “I got you a milkshake?” she echoed my question, leaning to the side to see what I’m talking about.

I blink at her as if she just sprouted another head. "Yes, this!" I said, looking back at the milkshake, squinting at a small sticky note attached to the side of it. I carefully unstick it from the drink, holding it like it’s evidence in a crime scene.

forgive me for making you leave early yesterday… - Jake

I closed my eyes hoping, wishing, the earth would open up and swallow me. Of course it was him. Chunghun leaned forward to catch the note, squinting. A smile grew on her face, “okay, you gotta admit that this is cute.” I shoot her a glare, “I need to thank him.” I said, placing my purse on my desk and grabbing the milkshake. Chungha’s grin widened at my announcement, “you caused this.” I reminded her playfully before leaving.

Each step I took toward his glass-walled office feels oddly heavy. It’s just a thank-you. Nothing more, not a big deal. Knocking the door twice made Jake turn around. His eyes brightened when he saw me, just like a puppy who was told they will go on a walk.

“Hello, sir,” I greeted, the milkshake suddenly felt a little too heavy in my hands.

"Good morning," he says, a smile full of warmth and admiration spread across his face. Oh, he got it bad…

I held up the milkshake, "Thanks for this. You really didn’t have to." I said, returning the smile sheepishly.

His eyes glowed with adoration, "Consider it an apology. Hope I got the right flavor?" he said, motioning to the milkshake. I should be the one apologising.

Then it dawned on me, he did remember the flavor… "Yeah," I say, my voice softer than I mean it to be. "You did."

He opened his mouth to say something, but a sudden interruption from outside the office stopped him, “Team!” our Boss shouted before his voice became muffled to me. Slightly jolting, I gave Jake an apologetic look, “I must go. Thank you again for the milkshake, sir.” I said, watching him walking towards me.

“Jake,” he said, as if he’s correcting me. His gaze flickering between my eyes.

I stared blankly at him, “I’m sorry?”

“Please, call me Jake.”

-♥︎-

Avoiding him was proven to be impossible. It started off small: he held the elevator door open for me even when I was still ten steps away, he would offer to buy me anything and everything the cafeteria offered, even suggesting ordering something. But now it was the worst situation. We had a meeting before we could leave for the day, something about that project the Boss keeps fussing about. Focusing, however, was beyond me.

Between Jake sitting besides me and the lack of sleep last night, my brain was running on fumes. The anxiety of this whole situation tangled itself around me, and that damn milkshake moment kept playing in my head like a broken record. I blinked hard, trying to fight off the weight of exhaustion dragging my eyelids down. My notes in front of me blurred together. The voices in the room became distant, background noise to the quiet battle I was losing against sleep.

A small piece of folded paper appeared on the table in front of me. From the corner of my eye, I saw Jake's hand retreating back to his side. I tried to decipher his face from the position i was in, but his expression was unreadable. Carefully, without trying to pull attention towards us, I unfolded the note.

Are you feeling okay?

I stared at his handwriting in black ink, oddly neat, like he had taken his time. I reached for my own red pen, scribbling down how I just didn't sleep well last night. I refolded the paper, sliding it back to him. A few seconds later, his response appeared in front of me.

Close your eyes. I can cover for you.

I almost snorted, exhaustion making everything funny now. What is he even talking about? Hesitating only for a moment, I grabbed my pen and scribbled back something. I straighten my back, trying to wake myself up. Again, his response popped up in front of me.

Trust me on this one. No one will notice.

I frowned in confusion, but before I could decide on how to respond, he subtly tilted his body, his broad shoulders blocking me from view. All I could see was his back and how everyone else was listening to the meeting.

Slowly, undeniable fatigue took over me, making me shut my eyes.

-♥︎-

“Hey… Wake up.”

A hand shook my shoulder gently, pulling me from the depths of my nap. I stirred, my mind still heavy with exhaustion, before I finally blinked my way back into consciousness. Once my vision focused, I found Chungha standing beside me, casually packing my notepad and pens into my purse.

“Meeting’s over,” she announced, tilting her head. “I was this close to tucking you in and leaving you here." she laughed, putting my purse on my lap. I groaned, stretching out my arms as I forced myself upright. My body still felt sluggish, my brain foggy from sleep. The conference room was empty now—everyone was gone.

“Now, come on, let’s go eat something. I’m starving…” she grumbled, heading towards the door. As I stood up and slung my purse over my shoulder, I slipped my hands into my coat pockets out of habit. The sleepiness fog vanished the moment I felt a piece of paper already in my pocket. I pulled it out only to find very similar handwriting in black ink.

Didn’t have the heart to wake you up.

It wasn’t signed, but it didn’t need to be.

♥︎ DAY 3 ♥︎

I had spent the last two days trying every trick, every strategy, everything and anything in my power to undo this ridiculous mistake. Yet, every desperate attempt led me to a dead end. It was completely hopeless.

I tried acting uninterested, distant, cold, downright dismissive towards him. Jake would greet me every morning, warm smiles and bright eyes. It took every ounce of willpower not to match his puppy-like energy, to keep my response flat and indifferent. "Morning," I’d say, voice devoid of emotion. But no matter how lifeless I sounded, his grin never wavered.

I also attempted to make him lose hope by acting like I have a ‘secret office admirer’, Chungha’s idea. We thought, maybe, this would make him give up on me.

“Are you sure this will work?” I whispered, watching her place a vase of flowers– that she picked– onto my desk. She shrugged at me as we eye the soft yellow and white rose bouquet with a small note. It looks legitimate, at least in my eyes. I sighed as I popped a chocolate covered almond in my mouth.

When I felt Jake’s presence coming closer, I started acting as if I just noticed the bouquet, putting on a full play in front of Chungha. His steps slowed as he passed my desk a few steps away, watching me pull out the note that was with the roses. I made sure to read out the note in a loud voice, I cleared my voice, "To the most beautiful woman in the office. I hope these flowers bring you as much joy as your smile brings me, your secret admirer." I read, acting surprised while turning to Chungha, “that is adorable.” she played along, smiling.

His chuckling made me turn my head towards him, “didn’t know there were secret admirers in this office…” he muttered, hands in his pants pockets, his tone dripping with amusement. I glanced at Chungha who’s now completely turned away from us, speaking to another colleague.

He bent down his head a little to read the note in my hand, his cologne was woody and intoxicating. I could see his slicked back, soft, black strands. His closeness made a fluttering warmth spread through my chest. “What’s funny is that they call themselves an admirer…” he started, his voice snapping me back to reality, “... yet they got your favorite color wrong.” he said, eyeing my outfit, my accessories, my desk decorations– all pink. He looked at me one last time in the eyes before turning his heels, leaving my heart into a wild, nervous rhythm and warmth rising to my face.

That was not the intended effect, and not on the right person.

Desperate times called for unflattering, repulsive measures. I was standing next to the vending machine after buying myself a Coke. Jake and a couple other colleagues were standing on the other side, chatting away. Perfect position.

I took a long, fast and exaggerated sip of Coke, stood for a moment when I felt the carbonation bubble up in my chest. I eyed Chungha who was on her phone, slowly sipping her coffee.

Then, it erupted like a thunderstorm. A loud, unexpected burp that could’ve registered on the Richter scale. Chungha choked on her coffee, the room fell silent, eyes were on me. I stood there, waiting. Surely, this would do it. No one finds that attractive.

Jake burst into laughter, his eyes glistening with adoration, “Impressive," he said, smiling and nodding before turning back to his conversation.

I turned back to Chungha, my jaw to the floor, “oh he didn’t find that disgusting. Quite the opposite.” she whispered to me, smiling in amusement, “I want to throw my Coke at him.”

I told myself that the next time he compliments me, i would be ready to shut it down. I was standing next to the printer, waiting for it to finish printing a paper that the Boss asked me to finalise. Jake passed by me, his eyes shimmered with light when he noticed me. "You look nice today." he said, stopping right dead in his tracks.

Bingo. I smiled sweetly, itching to put on another play. "Oh, thanks! I haven’t washed my hair in three days." I beamed, brushing my hair with my hands. A normal person would recoil. A sane person would be appalled. But him?

"Still looks stunning," he said easily, tilting his head. "What’s your secret?"

I wanted to scream. Who gave him permission to be this… tantalizing?

If I couldn’t drive him away with disgust, maybe I could with annoyance, if I just bother him enough to make him lose interest. I thought about barging into his office every hour or so, each time asking for something different but completely useless. I thought that if I just got under his skin, he would get tired of seeing me. I already went in, asking for a stapler, even though both him and I know I have one on my desk. Yet he gave me his without hesitation.

Half an hour later, I stood in front of his office door again, knocking as hard as I could, making sure that even my knocking was irritable to listen to. I opened the door after I heard a faint ‘come in’ from the other side.

I walked into his office as if I owned it. "What are you working on?" I asked him, as if he's not my higher up and could fire me. He looked up from his laptop, amused. "Something very important," he replied, still smiling.

Each time I left, I felt a little more defeated.

Twenty minutes later, I was back at his office. "Still working on something important?" I asked. Oh my god please, any reaction.

This time, he just laughed and shook his head. "You tell me. You seem very interested." he grinned, his arm propped up with his head resting in his hand. I stared at him, searching for a flicker of frustration, anything to indicate he was growing tired of this. But no, he looked at me like I was the one who painted the sky.

Then, I decided to really test how far I could push him. “Hey… uhh…” I squinted at him, tapping my forehead as if I’m really trying to remember something, “What was your name again?” I asked, trying to act casual, pulling out some chocolate covered almonds from my pockets and popping them in my mouth. This reverse the arrow mission will actually get me fired.

He raised an eyebrow, but there was no sign of irritation, only humor. Jake let out a soft laugh, shaking his head in return. Slowly, he pointed to his nameplate that’s on his desk. “Jake Sim,” he said, dragging out his name with a knowing smile.

I stared at him for a second. Was he really going to play along with this? Did he seriously not mind being the target of my ridiculous antics?

♥︎ DAY 5 ♥︎

I was in front of my computer’s screen, the room was filled with the sounds of keyboards clicking and telephones ringing. Focusing on any type of work was impossible, all I could think about was him. I thought to myself that I should still try to set him up with someone else, Just get him interested in someone. I leaned back into my chair, my gaze following Jake who was at the water cooler. He was standing casually, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up just enough to show off his forearms. The way he moved—effortless, composed, yet somehow magnetic—was enough to make my thoughts spin out of control.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I flew up from my chair and headed towards his direction. “Hello, sir,” I said, politely. Oh suddenly I remembered what manners are…

He turned around his signature warm smile appearing the moment our eyes met. “Hey,” he replied, voice as smooth as ever. “Need a refill too?”

“Yeah, just a little,” I replied, but before I could move, he already took another cup. After he filled the other cup, he handed it to me. “Thank you, sir.”

He huffed a laugh, “you know, the ‘sir’ ages me by a lot.”

“Right, I’m sorry. I forgot.” I said with a soft laugh.

We both stood there, side by side, the silence almost comfortable but the tension between us thickening. Then I broke the silence, “You know, don’t you think Mira is cute?” I asked, trying to sound natural as I fiddled with my paper cup filled with water. “I mean, she’s very elegant. Charming. Professional as well, don’t you think?”

Jake nodded, listening intently, but I noticed him drifting his gaze lower. I froze, my breath catching as I saw his fingers carefully adjust the small cupid bow-and-arrow pendant on my necklace that had somehow gotten tangled. His touch was so gentle, almost like he was afraid to hurt it—or maybe afraid to hurt me. My heart skipped a beat as he carefully set it back in place, and for a moment, everything seemed to slow.

His focus was still on me, his eyes lingered on mine for a heartbeat longer than I expected. And when he spoke, his voice was so sincere, it made my chest tighten. “She’s okay,” he shrugged, “but she’s not what I’m looking for.” His gaze never wavered, locking with mine as if trying to make sure I understood every word, every feeling behind them.

-♥︎-

Later that day, I went to the restroom before heading home for the day. As I was walking towards my desk, I noticed a couple familiar candy wrappers on my desk with a sticky note next to them. They were my chocolate covered almonds, the same brand even. I pulled the sticky note and stared at the neat handwriting, the words so simple, but they made my heart flutter more than it should have.

It simply read, enjoy. Again, not signed.

My fingers lingered over the edges of the paper, tracing the strokes of his pen. I stuffed the sticky note into the drawer of my desk, trying to ignore the strange feeling in my chest. But even with it hidden away, the flutter in my chest didn’t go away. If anything, it only grew stronger. I wasn’t supposed to feel this way. I couldn’t let myself feel this way.

♥︎ DAY 7 ♥︎

It was almost the end of Monday, and I felt completely defeated. None of the tricks had worked. Not the cold, distant act, not the jealousy plan, not even trying to be completely gross—nothing. Every strategy I tried to reverse the effects of that damn arrow had failed. It was like Jake just couldn’t be swayed. I was beyond tired, drained in every way. I hadn’t even seen Jake all day, and that should’ve been a relief. but honestly, it instead felt like something was missing. Every time I passed his office, there was a strange ache in my chest.

By the time the clock finally struck five, I gathered my things, shoved them into my bag, and walked out of my office. Today was the last day to reverse the effect, I’m seriously fucked.

As soon as I stepped outside, the sky opened up, and rain poured down in sheets. The cold wind cut through my jacket, and my already exhausted mind screamed at me to just hurry up and get home. Groaning, I fumbled with my purse, mentally preparing myself for the walk home.

“don’t tell me you're walking home in this.” a voice called out from behind me, cutting through the sound of the rain.

I turned around, I saw Jake with his bag in one hand and an umbrella in another. His hair was slightly messy, but still looking incredibly soft. His blazer was draped over his arm, leaving him in his button down white shirt. I forced a laughed, “"It’s fine. I don’t live that far," I said, trying to downplay how miserable I felt. "Really, it’ll just take a minute."

His eyes told me didn’t seem convinced, though. “Let me give you a ride home,” he offered in a heartbeat, but I quickly shook my head. “I’m fine, sir. Really, I—”

Before I could finish my sentence, he interrupted, pulling off his jacket and holding it out to me. "Take my jacket at least," he insisted. As I hesitated to say no, he held up his blazer in front of me, the insides of the blazer facing me. I sighed in defeat– more like too exhausted to argue– and slid my arms into it while he held it for me. As I was fixing the collar, he gently pulled my hair out from underneath the blazer. His fingers traced my neck, leaving hot trails behind. I turned around to see strands of hair falling on his forehead.

"Here, take this too. You will catch a cold." he muttered, handing me his black umbrella. “Thank you, really…” I said, flustered by the gesture. He flashed a warm smile, “anytime.”

without another word, he turned and ran toward his car, the rain pelting his back. As he reached his car, he paused and turned to wave at me. I watched him, feeling an unexpected warmth spread through me. He looked like a soaked puppy—wet, tousled, and far too endearing for his own good. It made my heart give a little thump.

"See you tomorrow!" he shouted, his voice muffled by the rain.

I waved back, an involuntary smile tugging at my lips. As I watched him get into his car and drive off, I had accepted the fact that he was in love with me. But that does not mean I will fall for him. Ever.

Pulling the jacket tighter around me, the weight of his gesture still warms me. As I was walking in the opposite direction towards my apartment, I instinctively reached out for my phone and put my hands in his blazer’s pockets thinking it was mine. I frowned as I felt small wrapped spheres in the pocket. Pulling it out, I found a familiar sight: my chocolate almonds.

I let out a quiet laugh, shaking my head, despite the growing flutter in my chest. That idiot really was hopeless.

-♥︎-

A few weeks have passed after the arrow’s effect has indefinitely settled in. My cupid duties have been on pause for a while, but not the office job. Our Boss kept on giving me– and it seemed like it was only me– many different tasks to finish for this upcoming project that forced me to stay late, after my usual office hours.

The office was nearly empty. The usual hum of ringing phones and clicking keyboards had long since faded, leaving only the soft buzz of overhead lights. I leaned in my office chair with a sigh, rubbing my burning eyes from my screen. My documents were scattered around, words blurring together and losing their meaning.

Despite all my attempts, my mind circles back to Jake. Guilt was eating me alive as I felt like I ruined his life, his love life. He was meant to fall in love with someone who can be with him, someone whose world aligned with his own. The guilt was so unbearable that I started avoiding him. I would turn to the opposite way whenever I sense he's nearby, I would be late for meetings on purpose so I could sit away from him, I would take the stairs so I don’t cross pathways with him in the elevator, I would make it seem like i get an important phone call each time I see him coming my way. I could see that it hurts him, but my remorse was overwhelming. Slowly but surely, his own attempts to speak to me reduced.

Even though his office wasn’t in my line of vision, I could sense his gaze on me from time to time. He was also still in his office, only his desk lamp was on, with him clicking away, very concentrated on his own computer. Whenever I stayed late at the office, Jake seemed to always be there too, leaving only us on our floor. He would never say anything to me, he wouldn't even step inside the shared workspace. He would stay in his office, but I could feel his presence from across the office.

My eyes scanned over to the clock, 1:12 am. I took a deep breath and returned back to my screen. The sound of a foot creaking open made me stop reading a sentence midway. I didn’t need to look up to know who it was. His footsteps were slow, but purposeful as he made his way to my desk.

“You’re working way too hard.” Jake’s voice was softer than I expected, like he was choosing his words carefully, with his hands in his pockets. I couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh. Before I could shut him down, he continued, “Do Cupids get paid overtime as well?”

My grip on my mouse tightened, my heart stilled. For a split second, I thought I misheard him. Surely the lack of sleep made me a little delirious. My eyes looked up at him before I could stop them, Jake had this knowing expression.

My stomach twisted in knots, my head is spinning, “I think you should head home, sir.” I dismissed, my eyes locking back to my screen with a thumping heart. God please tell me I’m imagining this…

He glanced down at the scattered notes on my desk before his gaze flickered back to me, “It’s funny, isn’t it?” Jake said, his smile not reaching his eyes, “You can make people fall in love… but you don’t know what to do when it happens to you.”

I swallowed hard, trying to stay still, unreadable even though every nerve in my body was on high alert. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Jake raised a brow. “Really? You have no clue what I’m talking about?”

“No clue.”

He let out a quiet exhale, his expression unreadable. A moment has passed of complete silence, I was praying that the earth’s crust would crack open and swallow me.

“At first, I just had a feeling that something was up...” His voice wasn’t accusing or even angry, just observant. “Miss. Chungha slipped up and said something about how you ‘messed up’ the matchmaking…” the more he spoke, the more my chest tightened itself on my pounding heart.

“And then,” he continued, watching me carefully, “I saw your open files on your desk a couple of times, with the names of couples you helped.” I winced, I should’ve been more careful.

The fragile rawness of my soul felt like it was on open display. It felt like he had carefully taken apart every building block of my defense that i had built and was looking at what was is actually underneath.

The feeling of guilt emerges once again when I look at his sincere eyes. I felt like a deceiver and a liar, he had to know at this point, there was nothing left to hide. I sat up straighter than I already was, forcing my voice to stay even and failing miserably, “the love you feel for me isn’t real. I was supposed to matchmake you with someone—”

“I know.” he said it softly, with certainty.

I blinked, “what?”

Jake tilted his head slightly, watching my reaction as if he were giving me a moment to process it, a soft smile on his lips. “I know about the arrow, Y/N.” He said my name so gently it made my chest ache, my heartbeat pounded in my ears. “I’ve known for a while.”

“However…” he said, leaning on a desk that was near mine, “i think the effect wore off faster than it should have. I think two days later I was feeling normal again.”

I closed my eyes to ease my beating heart, exhaustion and this deranged conversation was a dangerous mix at this hour, “that’s impossible.”

“If I had a choice,” he said, making me open my eyes and look up at him again, “I’d still want you.” He held my gaze before looking at my lips and then back into my eyes.

I could no longer compute rational thoughts, or any thoughts at that. The world was spinning and steady all at once. Jake straightened himself and turned his heels towards the exit, “Don’t stay too late, okay?” his voice called out before he left, without facing him.

He left me with my heart racing, feeling completely ruined. The weight of it all pressed down on me as tears fell down. I couldn’t pinpoint what exactly was making me cry– Jake finding out my sworn secret? Jake knowing I messed up on said secret job? or the fact that I have been feeling my powers slipping away? The thought of losing everything I had fought for because of my growing feelings was unbearable. My tears unraveled faster than my realisation that I actually fell for him.

-♥︎-

As if my life couldn’t be any harder, our Boss announced an emergency work trip across the country for a couple of client meetings, big ones at that. The kind that could define the next few months of the company’s future. Our trip was a haze for me, I stayed near either Chungha or Mira the entire time. My jake avoidance persisted despite the tension in the air, if i just act like none of this exists, it won’t affect me.

Before I knew it, we were off the plane and checked into our individual hotel rooms. The hotel lobby had this muted hum of chatter and telephones ringing filling the space. As to not waste time, we were all immediately called down for the first client meeting. As I sat down, my B oss handed me a notepad with a pen, “please, take notes during the meeting.” I just nodded, no energy left in me to argue.

As usual, Jake was running the presentation. Though, this serious and composed attitude was a side of him that I hadn’t seen before. It caught me off guard, the way he stood at the front of the room, the projector illuminating his face as he explained the new project to the clients. His voice was steady, authoritative, and it was clear he was in his element.

My notepad and pen sat in front of me, waiting to be used. But as the meeting progressed, I found my focus drifting from the content of the presentation to Jake. my eyes kept following his movements, how his hands gesture as he explained the key points, how his fingers occasionally adjusted his tie or brushed his hair back in that absent-minded way. The way his dark hair slightly tousled as he leaned forward, the little crease between his brows that appeared when he was deep in thought. In this room, in front of clients, he was assertive, and maybe even a little intimidating.

This was a stark contrast to the Jake who has been putting almond chocolates on my desk, or the one who always complimented my perfume choice of the day, or the one who leaves endless sticky notes at my desk. He was different, and it was… captivating.

I tried another attempt to focus on the presentation by scribbling down the client’s questions, what Jake was saying. The meeting continued, and Jake seemed to glide through it effortlessly. Every once in a while my mind would wander back to him, how easy it seemed for him to command the room with just his presence, how natural he was at all of this.

Soon enough, the meeting wrapped up. The clients were satisfied, Jake finished his presentation with a final handshake and brief thank-you to the clients. Our team packed up soon after, I raced to leave the suffocatingly hot room. The moment that our Boss gave us the green light that we can leave for the day, I beelined to the elevator, itching to just take off these stifling layers of clothes.

Once I reached my hotel room, I started a cold shower immediately, letting the icy stream douse over my skin to cool the heat that had been building ever since the meeting. I needed to clear her head, to push away the fluttering thoughts that refused to leave my mind. As I stood under the water, I kept remembering how Jake moved, the sharpness in his gaze and how my body responded to his subtle but undeniable presence. How can someone look like a cute puppy one second then the hottest man alive the next?

After washing my hair and body, I stepped out of the shower and wrapped myself in the hotel’s bathrobe. My skin was still tingling from the cold water, my face still flushed from my racing thoughts. I left the bathroom and tried to find my phone in the pile of mess I left before rushing in the shower.

Soft knocking was heard from my door, making me stop my search. It must be one of the girls. Another series of knocks made me pick up my pace and rush over to the door. When I opened it, it was, in fact, neither of the girls. I locked eyes with Jake instead. He was only in a light blue button down shirt, the sleeves were rolled up. His hair was a little messy compared to how it looked in the meeting.

It took a moment for the both of us to register the situation, the ‘I’m only in a robe’ situation. Jake stood there, looking just as flustered as I felt, making me tug the robe tighter around my figure. His gaze quickly flicked downward to the floor, clearing his throat, “god, I’m sorry. I will come back lat-”

“It’s alright, really.”

“I just need your notes of the meeting earlier,” he said, his eyes now looking at me. “Oh shit, I completely forgot,” I pinched the bridge of my nose.

I went back into my room, trying to find my notepad and my phone now, “I swear I can’t find anything. The plane landing, then the meeting… it was all too fast.” I said as I rummaged from my stuff. Jake held the door open, watching me frankly running around the room. “I’m sorry, this is really unprofessional of me…” I uttered. As if professionalism has been common in my behavior these past months…

Jake stepped in my room, letting out a short laugh because of my state, “take it easy, I’m not in a rush.” he said, letting the door click shut behind him. After moving my sweater to the side, I found the notepad tucked under it. I got up on my feet and handed it to him, “here they are, I'm so sorry again…”

“No need to apologise, hun,” he chuckled, taking the notes from hands. The nickname made my heart flip. Considering my current state, this was a really bad time for flirting.

Instead of just walking away or leaving the room, Jake comfortably opened them right there, standing at the door. He quickly scanned through them, his brow furrowing as he reread a few lines. He looked the same way he did in the meeting—so serious, so focused. His lips barely moved as he reread the notes, his entire body leaned forward in concentration. Every little thing he did—how his fingers brushed against the paper, the way he chewed the inside of his cheek when he concentrated—it all made my mind scream at me to stop looking, to stop thinking about him this way, but my body betrayed me.

“Your face is burning up,” he asked, his voice soft but laced with genuine worry. “Did you catch something from the plane ride?”

Before I could react, Jake gently placed his hand on my forehead, then my cheeks, my jaw, his touch surprisingly tender. His hand lingered for a moment, trying to assess if my red face is because of a fever. The warmth of his skin was clashing with my ice cold shower earlier. He came a little closer as his hand cupped my face, still trying to see if I’m sick.

I looked up at him, I probably looked dazed, “sir…” I finally said something, my voice was barely a whisper. My eyes involuntarily flickered to his pink lips.

“When will you get it that it's ‘Jake’ to you?” he said, his thumb moving from the side of my face to my lips, his touch sent shivers down my spine, his own eyes looking at my lips. The air between us thickened as he leaned in, letting our lips touch.

His hands found my waist, pulling me closer to him. Each kiss was more urgent than the last. My fingers tangled in his now extremely messy hair, pulling him deeper. His cologne was stronger than ever. If I could memorise this feeling, if I could memorise how he tasted and felt, before it slipped away I would. There was no thought—only the desperation to feel more, as if this is our one and only chance to hold each other.

I pulled back slightly, catching my breath. His forehead rested against mine, "for a Cupid," he murmured with a chuckle, "you're quite confusing." I couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh, my fingers found the nape of his neck.

Just as the distance between us closed again, a loud knocking echoed from the hotel door. “Y/N! Why aren’t you picking up your phone?” Chungha’s voice rang through the door, filled with concern and a touch of annoyance.

I froze, panic seizing me in an instant. "Oh no," my eyes wide with realization. "Jake—" I barely whispered, my mind racing as I quickly backed away from him. Jake immediately took a step back, his hand held mine, his face turning to confusion as he caught the urgency in my eyes. “I can’t be seen like this with my Boss,” I whispered to him urgently.

We scanned the room, finding a hiding spot for him. I ended up grabbing his wrist, leading him to the closet near the door in a hurry. Without protest, I pushed him into the small space as he ducked into the closest with a chuckle, leaving me to try to regain control of the situation.

I rushed to the door and opened it just enough to reveal Chungha’s expectant face. "Hey, what’s going on?" she asked, her eyes darting over me as she stepped inside. I waved my hand frantically, trying to act casual. “Just came out of the shower,” I said, motioning to my robe that I was still wearing, that I was wearing while kissing our Boss.

“Why didn’t you call me?” I asked, trying to distract her. Chungha raised an eyebrow, “I tried, but you weren’t answering. I wanted to order something, I wanted to see if you wanted anything.” She glanced around, stepping further into the room. Her attention was diverted, I could feel my heart pounding, the sound of Jake shifting in the closet just beyond the thin closet door.

I took a deep breath once Chungha was out of my line of vision, and then hurriedly, without thinking too much about it, shooed Jake out the closet. “Go, go, go!” I whispered urgently.

He smirked, “you’re cute when you panic." he commented, as if this was the right moment to do so. “Oh my god, i will kill you with my bare hands, go!” I whispered, pushing him out the door.

“I'm hesitating between pizza and sushi. What do you say?” I heard Chungha’s voice call out as I clicked the door shut. I swear my hotel’s door looks like a revolving door.

“I'm fine with both!” I responded, trying to catch my breath. I leaned against the door for a second, pressing my palms to my flushed face, trying to ground myself. My heart was still racing, my skin still burning from his touch, and worst of all—my lips still tingled from the kiss.

What the hell was I doing?

-♥︎-

After many meetings and conferences that we were all forced to sit through, the familiar hum of the office was back—the ringing phones, the clatter of keyboards, the distant murmur of coworkers chatting by the coffee machine. Everything was the same. Except me.

I sat at my desk, blankly staring at my screen. I blinked, trying to focus on the words that are blurring together, but it was no use. I felt like a zombie, just so drained– not just physically, but in a way I couldn’t even describe.

The little magic I once felt at my fingertips was gone. I used to hear it, the universe’s quiet whisper, the way love threaded itself through the world like a melody only I could recognize. But now? Silence.

Jake noticed my changed humor. Of course, he did. He noticed the pile of untouched almonds on my desk that he left on desk, how I poked at my lunch instead of eating it, and how I barely even reacted when Chungha cracked a joke during their break.

Chungha noticed, but she knew I wanted space, so she didn’t push. Everytime i would space out in my thoughts, she would put her hand in mine, kiss my hand ever so lightly before leaving me to it.

I would catch him staring– his brows drawn together in concern. I would frown back at him, feeling my chest bubbling with unreason frustration. I hate this. I hate the way he looks at me like I am slipping through his fingers, like he wanted to reach out but didn’t know how. And most of all, I hated how much I felt, how much all of this hurts.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. I wasn’t supposed to care this much. I wasn’t supposed to lose this part of myself. And yet, here I am. A complete mess without it.

I decided to go home early, my Boss just waved me off while on the phone, muttering a ‘whatever’ under his breath. If I had strength in me, I would have reacted to his rudeness, but I just quietly walked to my desk. Chungha watched me pack my purse, “heading out?” she asks, her eyes sympathetic.

I weakly smiled back at her, “i will see you on monday, i promise,”

“Lemme walk you home, you look pale,” she said, standing up from her seat and ready to put on her jacket. “No, stay. I will be fine. Plus, I don't know what’s up the Boss’ ass right now, but he won't appreciate both of us leaving,”

Her shoulders slumped down, “alright, as you wish.” she said in defeat, pulling me in a tight hug before letting me leave.

-♥︎-

The knocking at my door stirred me out of my nap. I groaned as I lifted myself off my couch, still in my office clothes. I was so tired that I just collapsed on the couch the moment I walked in. I pulled the thin blanket I used tighter around my shoulders as I made my way to my apartment’s door.

The knock came again—gentle but insistent. I glanced at the clock on my wall, 11:45pm. No way it's Chungha… she would've come by earlier than this hour. My eyes and heart still feel heavy, the nap was not enough. I caught a glimpse of myself in my small hallway mirror, hair poking from every direction, puffy eyes, red face. With a sigh, I unlocked the door and used all the force I had left to open it.

The moment it opened, I froze and my throat dried up.

Jake stood there, holding a basket in one hand and some leftover containers in the other. He was no longer in his office suit, instead he was wearing jeans, a simple shirt and a basketball hat, however his heavy signature Rolex is still on his wrist. His brows knitted together in concern the second he saw my face.

“Hey,” he said, clearing his throat, “I thought you were under the weather, so I made you some beef stew and cookies,” he continued, lifting the leftover containers slightly. I stare at him, and then at the food.

Then, it just hit me all at once as tears filled my eyes. The fact that he’s here trying to fix something he never caused, or the fact he cared so much he cooked me food and dessert, or the fact that I have been unreasonably angry at him, all just made those tears spill over.

“I… I can’t—” my voice broke, “I don’t know how to fix this. Any of this.”

Jake’s face shifted from confusion to alarm the moment he saw my tears. “Y/N,” he murmured, his voice softer but laced with concern. “What’s wrong?” he asked, set the food down as I let out a choked sob. The amount of crying I have been doing has been leaving my head pounding against my skull.

“Everything. I just…” I trailed off, fresh tears spilling down my cheeks. I felt pathetic, to be quite honest. He opened up his arms without hesitation, through my tears, I got closer to him and wrapped my arms around him, steading myself.

“Oh, love…” he sighed after hearing another sob from me, his voice filled with nothing but warmth. Without a word, he guided me inside, shutting the door behind us. After setting the basket on the kitchen’s counter, his eyes landed on me again. I probably looked like hell, from the work clothes to the unkempt hair to the probably smudged makeup.

“Y/N…” his voice comforting but hesitant. “Talk to me.”

My throat tightened, not allowing me to speak. When he saw new tears threatening to come out, Jake inhaled, with a quiet murmur of, “come here,” he led me toward the couch. I didn’t argue. Didn’t think. All of those actions took too much energy. I just simply followed, letting myself collapse next to him on the couch.

The grief of losing a part of my identity, the exhaustion, the feeling of failure, the weight of everything—it all felt heavier than ever. I shifted slightly, curling up and resting my head on his lap. He didn’t flinch or hesitate, his fingers found my back, running slow, soothing circles on it.

After a while, the apartment became calmer, the soft hum of the city could be heard outside my apartment window. Jake’s been quiet ever since, every so often you would only hear my sniffling. I let out a breath I have not realized I was holding.

“I’m no longer a Cupid,” I murmured, eyes staring blankly at the side of the small living room, face pressed up against Jake's chest. “And I don’t know what that means for me.”

Jake hummed thoughtfully, his fingers never stopping their soft movements. “Well,” he said, amusement lacing his voice, “you could always be my retired Cupid.”

I huffed out something close to a laugh. “That sounds exhausting.”

“Nah,” he grinned. “Just means you get to sit back and let me do all the chasing. Nothing new.”

I giggled against his chest, hearing his heartbeat again once my laughter faded. “Can I be honest with you?” I asked hesitantly, looking up at him from my position.

“Always.”

I swallowed hard before I spoke up again, “I was… mad at you for a moment,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “For making me fall for you.”

He blinked, surprised, before suddenly laughing. “Wait—that’s why you were avoiding me? Shit, I thought you regretted the kiss.”

“That’s not the case.” I blurted out before I could stop myself. Jake stared down at me, one brow raised and a smile slowly forming on his lips. I opened my mouth to backtrack, to save myself, but all that came out was a flustered, “I—I mean, it was—you were—”

he let out a full, warm laugh. “Oh my god,” I groaned, immediately burying my face back into his chest “I hate you.”

“You enjoyed it,” he repeated, smug now.

“Stop talking.” I whined, my voice muffled against his own laughter.

-♥︎-

I walked into the office the next morning, my shoulders feeling much lighter. A warm smile spreads across my face as I greet my coworkers, noticing a slight rosiness in my cheeks. The bounce in my steps slowed down when I noticed a large bouquet on my office desk.

“Always a special delivery for the Miss…” Chungha said, the bouquet completely blocked me from seeing her. I snorted a laugh at her comment before I stepped closer to the bouquet. I ran my fingers ever so slight over the soft petals of the pink roses, my heart doing an embarrassing little flip as I spotted a note tucked between them. Carefully, I unfolded the small card.

For my retired Cupid.

Unsigned. I huffed sharply with a smile, a mix of amusement and something warmer blooming in my chest. Instinctively, my gaze flickered upward—to the glass walls of his office. And, of course, he was already looking at me, probably saw my whole reaction.

Jake didn’t even pretend to be subtle. His chin rested on his hand, smiling and eyes glistening with that same familiar puppy love. I rolled my eyes, a smile still on my lips, I pulled out my phone.

“For someone no longer under Cupid’s influence, you’re really not acting like it.” - “Me”, Delivered 30 sec ago

1K notes · View notes

pomegranatelifethis · 2 months ago

Text

The first excitement

The day you found out you were pregnant, Bruce first hugged you tightly, then, with deep seriousness, said, "I will provide the best environment for you and our baby." At that moment, you didn’t fully understand what that meant—until a few days later, when you started noticing that everything you loved and found cute was piling up in the house.

At first, you liked it. Knowing Damian’s fondness for kittens, one day, you casually said, "Little cats are really adorable." The next day, at least five different plush cat toys arrived at the house. Then, you mentioned that you liked the tiny penguin design on Tim’s coffee mug. Bruce heard this, and within a few days, the kitchen was filled with penguin-themed utensils.

But things spiraled out of control when Dick showed you a baby elephant video to cheer you up, and you exclaimed, "That’s insanely cute!" A week later, a corner of the Batcave was overflowing with elephant-themed baby toys. Even Jason walked in, raised an eyebrow, and said, "Even I think this is too much."

At some point, the house became suffocating. In the peak of your hormonal fluctuations, you stood in the middle of the living room, looking around. Plush toys everywhere, tiny blankets, cute animal figures on the walls… And suddenly, your eyes welled up.

"ENOUGH!" you exploded.

Everyone froze. Dick stood still, holding a tiny teddy bear. Damian, petting the new kitten Alfred had just brought him, looked at you. Tim slowly set down his coffee mug. Jason leaned back on the couch, watching the scene unfold with great amusement.

But the biggest reaction came from Bruce. "But… I was trying to create the best environment for our baby," he said, his eyes wide with confusion.

Between hiccups, you cried, "Yes, but our house looks like a toy store! I’m hormonal, I’m exhausted, and everything is overwhelming me!"

Silence. Then Dick bit his lower lip to keep from laughing, but Jason let out a loud, mocking chuckle. "I wish I had recorded this. The mighty Batman, completely lost in the middle of an emotional crisis."

Bruce quickly composed himself and gently pulled you into his arms. "Alright, alright… I went overboard. I’m sorry. What do you want me to do?"

Taking a deep breath, you mumbled, "Just… let’s scale it down, okay?"

That’s when the Batfamily sprang into action.

Tim immediately started making a list. "Alright, we can return the unnecessary stuff."

Dick grinned. "And we can donate some toys. The kids at the orphanage will love them."

Damian, with a serious expression, declared, "The cats stay. They’re non-negotiable."

Jason shrugged. "I’d personally burn half of this, but donation works too."

Bruce sighed and nodded. "Alright, everyone, get organized. We’re sorting this mess out."

In the end, the house became livable again. And you realized that, no matter how chaotic they were, the Batfamily always came together in moments of crisis. And maybe, just maybe, a little extra cuteness wasn’t so bad—at least, in moderation.

The Batfamily’s attempt to systematically resolve the “excessive cuteness” crisis had turned into complete chaos. Tim was sorting out items to be returned, checking his list, while Jason, clearly bored, was tossing some plush toys into the air.

"Let’s donate this one."

"This is unnecessary—trash."

"Can we keep this one? It’s so cute!"

Then, Damian turned to Bruce, holding a tiny plush bat. "I’m keeping this one. Because it makes sense. We are bats."

Jason sighed. "Yes, of course. Because logic is what truly matters here."

Bruce, however, still didn’t seem ready to part with anything. As Batman, he had stopped countless criminals, fought in Gotham’s darkness for years… but now, the real challenge was getting rid of plush toys without upsetting his loved ones.

Noticing Bruce’s hesitation, Dick stepped closer, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Hey, you’re getting used to being in dad mode, you know? Don’t panic. We got this."

Bruce took a deep breath and nodded. "Alright. But… let’s keep a few things. For our baby."

Sitting on the couch, watching the scene unfold, you felt your emotions fluctuating—thanks to your hormones—but at the same time, a warmth filled your chest. Sure, Bruce was going a little overboard, but that was because he just wanted you and your baby to be as happy as possible. And now, the entire family was involved.

Eventually, most unnecessary items were sorted out. Tim and Dick organized the donations, Jason planned to dispose of some in his own way, but Alfred stepped in to ensure everything was properly sent off. Meanwhile, Damian had somehow succeeded in increasing the household’s cat population—there were now three instead of one.

That night, after everyone had left, Bruce sat beside you, resting a hand on your stomach. "I guess I got a little too excited," he admitted.

You smiled and leaned your head against his shoulder. "A little?"

The two of you chuckled softly, settling into a comfortable silence. Bruce’s protective, loving nature could sometimes be overwhelming, but with this chaotic, affectionate family by your side, you knew everything was going to be just fine.

Late into the night, just as you thought you’d finally found some peace, you lay down in bed and closed your eyes. However, just as sleep was about to take you, the bedroom door creaked open. At first, you assumed it was Bruce coming in to say something, but instead, Tim stepped inside.

"I just wanted to make sure… Do you really want to donate the penguin-patterned blanket? Or maybe, you know… we could keep it, just in case you like it?" he whispered.

You sighed, keeping your eyes closed. "Tim, I’m trying to sleep."

Tim nodded but didn’t move from the doorway. "Okay, but… are you really sure?"

Before you could answer, another voice echoed from the hallway. "If you're going to keep bothering her, at least do it quietly, Drake."

Damian stood in the doorway, arms crossed. "Disturbing a pregnant person only proves how useless you truly are."

Tim rolled his eyes. "I just care about her preferences, okay? This is a delicate process."

"How ridiculous." Damian sighed and walked away.

Just as Tim was about to leave, another troublemaker appeared at the door—Dick. With a wide grin, he slid into the room and immediately crouched beside the bed.

"Are you okay? Do you need anything?" he asked, his eyes shining with concern.

Bruce stirred, cracking one eye open. "What’s going on?" he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

"Nothing! Just checking in!" Dick quickly raised his hands in surrender. "We’re here to help!"

Before Bruce could give him a stern look, Jason’s voice drifted in from the hallway.

"If everyone’s taking turns barging in, I might as well join. What am I missing?"

You buried your face into your pillow and groaned. "Why is everyone suddenly in full-on parent mode?"

Bruce rubbed his eyes and shot the others a sharp glare. "Everyone. Back to your rooms. Now."

Dick glanced at Bruce’s serious expression, then shrugged with a small smile. "Alright, alright, we’re going. But remember, I’m always here for you." He walked out the door.

Tim clutched the blanket to his chest and quietly slipped away. Jason, clearly amused by the whole thing, chuckled. "That was fun to watch," he said before disappearing down the hall.

Finally, the door closed, and silence returned.

Bruce, still half-asleep, pulled you close. "I know they can be a lot, but… they really care about you."

You smiled, resting your head on his shoulder. "I know. But if they keep this up until the baby is born, the real crisis will happen then."

Bruce let out a quiet chuckle, pulling you even closer. "I’ll keep them under control."

But both of you knew that keeping the whole family in check was harder than cleaning up Gotham’s crime.

In the following days, the Batfamily’s overly attentive behavior showed no signs of slowing down. At this point, you had to take a deep breath before entering any room because, without fail, someone would be there—thinking about you (and sometimes overthinking for you).

One morning, when you went downstairs for breakfast, you found Damian standing next to Alfred. As usual, Alfred was calmly preparing a nutritious meal for you, while Damian, brows furrowed, was scribbling something in a notebook.

"What are you doing?" you asked.

Without looking up, Damian replied, "I’m researching the ideal age range to begin the baby’s combat training."

You paused mid-bite and stared at him. "Combat… what?"

"If they start young, they could master basic fighting techniques by the age of ten. Of course, we’d have to modernize Father’s traditional training methods. Also—"

Shaking your head, you held up a hand. "No. No, Damian. Our baby will not be training for combat anytime soon. They’ll play with toys, listen to bedtime stories, and—oh, I don’t know—just be a normal child?"

Damian frowned. "But—"

"No."

Alfred smiled softly and patted Damian’s shoulder. "Perhaps we should revisit this discussion in a few years, young master."

Just as you thought you could finally relax, Tim walked into the kitchen, balancing a laptop in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

"Hey, you’re up. I made a chart to monitor your vitamin D levels. We need to increase your daily intake because during pregnancy, your bone health—"

You groaned, rubbing your temples. "Tim, please. Just one morning without a health chart while I eat?"

Tim hesitated, then nodded. "Sure. But I’m still going to ask you to check it later. The data is really interesting."

Before you could respond, Dick entered the kitchen carrying a bag.

"Surprise!" he announced, pulling out tiny, brightly colored baby onesies. "I saw these and had to get them for the baby!"

You picked one up—it was bright blue and had “Future Acrobat” written on it.

"Dick…" you said, exhaustion in your voice.

"Wait, I haven’t shown you the best one yet!" He excitedly pulled out a yellow onesie from the bottom of the bag. Across the front, in big bold letters, it read: "Mini Nightwing."

As Dick beamed at you, Jason walked in and observed the situation. He rolled his eyes.

"Great. The kid’s already being pushed into circus life before they’re even born."

Dick shot him a glare. "Hey! Flexibility is important!"

Jason turned to you, smirking. "This is all a bit much. But if you ever want to see the baby in a tiny leather jacket, I’ve got ideas."

Laughing, you shook your head. "Jason, I am not putting a leather jacket on the baby."

Jason shrugged. "Alright. But let me know if you change your mind."

Just as you thought the chaos had peaked, Bruce walked into the kitchen. Everyone immediately turned to him. He raised an eyebrow at the sheer number of people gathered.

"What’s going on?"

Without hesitation, you rushed to his side and tugged on his sleeve. "Please. Get me out of here."

Bruce studied you for a moment, then turned to the others with a sharp look. "Alright. Everyone, clear out."

The group erupted in protests, but as soon as Bruce’s Batman glare came into play, they reluctantly started to disperse.

With the kitchen finally quiet, you took a deep breath. Bruce crossed his arms, watching you.

"Are you really that exhausted?"

You shot him a tired but affectionate look. "Your family is… a lot."

Bruce let out a small chuckle and nodded. "I know."

Smiling, you leaned into him, wrapping your arms around his waist. No matter how chaotic they were, one thing was clear—this family cared about you and the baby more than anything. And that meant you were part of the safest—and most insane—family in the world.

#batfam x reader #batfam #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfamily x reader #batfamily x reader #bruce wayne x reader #batfamily #yandere x reader #yandere dc #damian wayne x reader #yandere jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader #yandere damian x reader #tim drake x reader #dick grayson x reader #yandere jason todd #mom batfam #batman x reader #yandere batman x reader

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scarlet-star-witch · 10 months ago

Text

The shackles of duty

Summary: In the aftermath of Aegon's fall in the Battle of Rook's Rest, Aemond envisions his future as King with his Queen at his side

Reader is Rhaenyra's daughter and in a secret relationship with Aemond

Part 2 to His Sacrifice

WC: 2.2 K

Warnings: Implied smut, possessive Aemond, kinda dark Aemond, but not really, he's more pathetic than anything

Aemond stared at the plumes of smoke that billowed from where his brother and his dragon had fallen.

His heart still raced with satisfaction, the adrenaline pumping through his veins keeping him in an almost high-like state he never wanted to come down from. His victorious smirk remained as he turned to the woman beside him who stared at the smoke with a conflicted expression.

“With any luck, Aegon has perished, or at least will in due time.”

She looked to Aemond, the furrow in her brow deep, betraying her indecision and unease.

She always knew what Aemond was capable of, she knew of the darkness within him, but to see it now, displayed so blatant before her very eyes, shook something within her, something she didn’t know she could feel towards the man she had loved for so long.

Aemond grabbed her hands, holding them in his tightly as he turned to face her fully.

“We can go back to King’s Landing. With Aegon’s state, I will be named Regent. I will sit the throne and you will be my Queen.”

“What?” She breathed out, the only word she’d been able to speak in the past few minutes.

“Aegon is not long for this world, surely. It won't be long until I become King. No one can deny us anything now. We can marry, you can stay with me by my side, we can rule together.” Aemond spoke with a franticness that was so unlike him, it unsettled her more than the gleam of desire in his eye in that moment.

“Aemond…”

“We can finally be together.” He reminded her as his hand reached out to grasp her cheek affectionately, the longing he displayed tearing her insides, as if she were being pulled in two radically different directions.

She watched him for a long moment, savoring the sight of that beautiful face she’d spent the past few years memorizing, every perfect dip and curve that never failed to leave her breathless, and emotion swelled as she realized she’d have to break his heart.

“I can’t go with you.” She told him, her voice barely above a whisper, as if it would soften the blow, as if saying it quietly would mean it wouldn’t completely destroy him.

His lip twitched, his smile fading slowly as he took in her words, praying he had misheard her. His grip on her hands tightened, as if he could keep her with him, as if he could forever stop her from leaving his side.

“But…”

“Aemond, you know I cannot go with you. No one will accept-”

“Fuck what they think! You are mine and the second I sit on that throne I can make it so. No one could stop us.”

She shook her head and moved to pull away, but he didn’t let her, his hand sturdy in hers, a look of heartbreak on his face as he felt her hesitation.

“We are at war, Aemond. Our marriage will not solve anything, it won’t miraculously dissolve what is happening in our family, it will only create more chaos.”

“I don’t care.” Aemond spoke through gritted teeth as he stepped towards her, his hands now cradling her face. “I don’t give a shit about this war, you are all I want.”

She sniffled, bowing her head to avoid looking into his eye. It was too painful to see how she was hurting him.

“Think about what you are asking of me.”

“I am asking you to be with me.”

“You are asking me to abandon my mother!” She yelled.

His chest ached, the rush he’d been thriving on suddenly turning to despair as he looked at her, realizing he wouldn’t soon have her in his arms as he had hoped.

“We can fix this.” He spoke with reverence, but it did little to soothe the storm within her.

“Maybe we could have… but that was before- before Lucerys.”

Aemond flinched, recoiling as if she had delivered a physical blow.

“You know my regret for what happened. You know I would have never willingly jeopardize-”

“I know, I know.” She whispered tearfully, her hands moving up to grip at his wrists, feeling his pulse race beneath her touch.

She remembered the night after learning of her brother’s death as she met Aemond on their Island, how he immediately fell to his knees in forgiveness, how he let her scream and cry and rage at him, how they held each other as they cried, knowing the state of their family had broken beyond repair, ruining what little chance they thought they had to one day be together as they wanted.

She wiped her tears and with one last gentle caress to his hands, pulled them away from her, taking a step backwards before he could reach out to her once more.

“I have to go.”

With every step she took away from him, he took a step closer, his face shifting each time she moved, his frown growing deeper and deeper as it abruptly dawned on him that he was about to lose her, yet again.

“Please, don’t do this.”

“I’m sorry.” She choked out, the sight of him blurring as tears sprang to her eyes. She turned and didn’t look back as she climbed upon Vermithor, ignoring the pit that grew in her stomach, ignoring the voice in the back of her head that screamed at her to stay with him.

She didn’t dare spare him a look. She knew she’d cave if she did, that she would fall back into his arms and pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist.

She wiped her tears as she flew, ignoring the pull she felt to her other half as the distance between them grew greater.

A yell of pure rage escaped him as he flipped the table in his room. He grabbed anything he could get his hands on, throwing any and every object he found across the room, destroying everything in his line of sight.

His bed was in disarray, the tapestries that lined the walls torn to pieces at his feet, candles knocked to the ground, trinkets shattered into nothing but dust as he raged.

He only stopped when there was nothing left to ruin.

His chest heaved with exertion as he let himself slump against his bed, burying his face in his hands as he struggled for breath, forcing himself not to let his tears fall.

His mind raced with her words, each like a dagger to the heart, each one tearing away a piece of him, leaving him unwhole and untethered to the one thing in the world he cared about.

Nothing made sense without her. It had only been hours and he was already spiraling.

Simply picturing her beautiful face caused his chest to ache, as if the dagger of her words had been real, causing him to bleed and fade away until there was nothing left of him.

He could not let this be the end.

With a half-formed plan in his mind, he stood with haste and reached for his cloak, ensuring the hood covered his head and stepped out of his room, his steps quick and purposeful.

He would not let her slip away from him again.

Her mind was racing, keeping her from her much needed sleep. She couldn’t stop picturing Aemond’s face, the pain she had caused him stirring her own.

She couldn’t ignore the regret that overtook every inch of her. While she loved her mother and longed to see her as Queen, she couldn’t deny that Aemond had stitched himself within the fabric of her, he was now a part of her she couldn’t ignore.

She didn’t quite know when it happened, all she knew was that it was too late to go back now, too late to pretend she felt nothing for him. She couldn’t move forward without him.

She had to see him.

She hissed a curse and tore the covers off, getting to her feet and dressing in her riding leathers quickly, acknowledging the stupidity of her plan, but steadily ignoring it.

It was easy to sneak out of the castle. She’d been doing it for years now, she could do it with her eyes closed.

It took little time to get Vermithor in the air and on the course for King’s Landing, her heart in her throat as she flew. She didn’t know what awaited her, what danger she would be placing upon her head, all she knew was that once there, Aemond would never let any harm befall her.

It was the only assurance she needed to drive forward into enemy territory.

Suddenly, the bellowing roar of a dragon sounded over the din of the wind.

She startled and narrowed her eyes, the moon providing light for her to see, but as the hulking figure of the dragon coming before her became clear, she soon realized, her eyes widening as she stared back at Vhagar.

A breathless laugh escaped her, pure relief overtaking her as she realized Aemond was in the same state she found herself in, unable to settle for their circumstance.

She pulled at the reins, directing Vermithor to descend, heading towards their Island with Aemond following seconds behind.

The two mighty dragons landed and their riders met each other's gaze, the both of them taking a moment to simply admire each other, their shared smiles of equal relief and awe that they had had the same thought, the same longing to see each other.

Her hands almost shook with anticipation as she untied herself from the saddle.

She felt nervous, as if it were their first meeting in secret, as she approached him, but her reservations didn’t last as Aemond stepped towards her quickly, with no hesitation.

A shaking breath escaped her as she was pulled into his arms.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered weakly, her voice strained as her throat tightened, overwhelmed to be back in his loving arms.

He shook his head and held to her tighter, softly whispering his relief to see her again

Time was lost to them as they embraced, as they held each other as only lovers could.

“I don’t know what will happen next.” She mumbled, hating to break the moment with their reality, but it wasn’t something they could ignore for much longer.

“I don’t either.” He admitted quietly. “But what I do know is that, whatever I do, it will not be without you. I don’t care how many times I will have to chase you down and bring you back to me, I won’t lose you.”

“You won’t have to chase me. I’m not going anywhere.”

His exhale of relief was loud and she barely had time to apologize again before he was kissing her firmly, leaving them both breathless and lightheaded with desire.

His touch was desperate as he laid her down in the dewey grass. It was familiar to them, these fleeting and frantic touches all they could spare in the war that ravaged their families.

He took her with an intensity as if it had been years since he’d felt her touch and not mere days as it had been. She felt more loved than ever before as he lavished his praise onto her, as his lips caressed every inch of her, as he made love to her with the burning passion as only a man in love could.

Their cries of pleasure echoed on the desolate Island, their secret remaining shrouded in darkness and isolation.

As he spilled his seed within her, his call of her name sending shivers down the length of her body, she held him tightly, wishing she could hold onto him forever, wishing she didn’t have to leave his side time and time again.

He wasn’t quick to part from her, laying over her, his hands still eager to touch her, to remember the curves of her body in fear that it would be the last time.

But they would never let it be the last, not as long as they still breathed life.

He left her side with a promise to see her the next night.

There was no mention of the throne, of titles or battles. It didn’t exist in their time together, the both of them determined to blissfully ignore the reality that was slowly crushing them, slowly pulling them further and further apart, no matter how hard they tried to fight it.

He lingered in her mind as she woke alone but sated, the phantom bliss of his touch, bringing a smile to her lips in the early morning. She could still feel the warmth between her thighs, feel the pleasurable burn of the marks he had left on her body.

She smiled politely as her maid entered, placing breakfast down for her.

“Is there anything else I can get for you, Princess?”

Moon tea.

The words were on the tip of her tongue. She trusted her handmaiden, she’d never given her a sideways glance over the past years when she requested the drink. Her mother was still blissfully unaware, which meant her maid was at least keeping her secret.

Yet the words didn’t come, a decision made in a fraction of a second.

“No, thank you. That is all.”

As her maid left, her hand drifted to her stomach, a smile forming on her lips as she wondered what their child would look like.

Hope you enjoyed! I have more Aemond content coming! I literally have a thousand ideas for this beautiful man, so stay tuned xx

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen fic #house of the dragon fic #aemond targaryen fanfic

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thewayitalknj · 5 months ago

Text

I've been listening to a lot of Mötley Crüe lately to hopefully manifest me seeing them in Las Vegas next year. Came up with this while driving, which is how a lot of my ideas come to be recently. Word Count - 1.6k

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Full Mini-Series Masterlist Here

"Come on please, I have no idea what they have planned and it's killing me." He was practically begging you at this point. You roll your eyes as you walk down the next aisle, stacking the next set of 'romantic comedies' that just came in.

"Eddie, it's your birthday, it's supposed to be a surprise. And can you please stop bugging me while I'm working?"

"Yeah yeah sure I'll stop bugging you" he grits his teeth, "if you tell me what they have planned."

You turn around fully facing him, pushing your glasses back up your nose, taking your voice down to a whisper. "Look I truly have no idea what the fuck they have planned so please stop asking. Just be grateful they're doing something with you and you're not spending your birthday alone." You turn back around, making your way to the 'horror' section.

"At least come with me-"

"I can't, I have my bookclub tonight. But come to my place and tell me all about your guys night tomorrow if you're not too hungover."

He huff's his breath up, his bangs moving in the process. "Thanks a lot."

"I'm sure you'll have a blast."

A strip club. A fucking strip club. As much as Eddie appreciated what his friends were doing this is not what he expected. All he wanted was a guy's night in playing D&D and watching movies but no, his friends had to go all out.

The worst part is it was 'dress up night', so the strippers would be in various costumes. His friends thought the better, dress up plus dancing ladies ; what more could anyone ask for?

After a few hours sitting in a booth a few drinks in, an announcement sounded over the DJ speakers ; "alright everyone we have a birthday in the house! We want to welcome our birthday boy in Booth 21 to come on up for a special dance!" As everyone roared with excitement Eddie blushed under the neon lights.

"Why are y'all doing this to me?"

Garth pushes him forward, "Because we love you, NOW GO!" Eddie reluctantly makes his way up and sits on the chair provided for him. He drums nervously on his knees waiting for the song to start.

The next dancer comes to take the stage, dressed in all red, devil horns, and a red laced mask. Her hair is curled, not one piece left undone. She steps into the spotlight, and Eddie swears time halts and he has to take breath in order to steady himself. He is mesmerized. She slowly makes her way over, putting her hands on both sides of the chair. She eyes him up and down smirking to herself and as her song begins to play ; taking control of the room.

Eddie feels like he's fallen under some sort of spell, like something he wrote out for a campaign. He's so enthralled he completely forgot he was in a room with other people. He watches every move she makes ; the way her hips sway, how she doesn't come too close but just enough to tease him, and the way she makes eye contact with him? Forget about it ; Eddie swears he's falling in love with her right then and there, even though this was his first interaction with the mystery woman.

And in the three minutes the song plays, Eddie is so thankful his friends took him out. He tries to memorize every detail of the devil, just in case he decides to come back another time. Maybe on his own? Maybe with buddies again? Who knows, but he just had to remember her. Particular details ran through his head ; the hair style, the color of her eyes, and while she moved her body up against his, he noticed a small birthmark on the left side of her body, ironically shaped like a heart right above her heart ; and be still his own heart. Right when the music fades and the crowd begins to cheer breaking him out of his headspace, she leans in to his ear and with a sultry voice whispers "happy birthday sweetheart" and it's right then and there Eddie could have been shot through the chest by an arrow and he would feel no pain.

His posse of course never let him see the end of it, with constant teasing as the night went on. One thing was for sure, he could not wait to tell you about his night in the morning.

Eddie couldn't wait, he was practically banging at your door at 9:00am. You reach for your glasses on the nightstand, pull your hair in a messy bun and make your way towards the front door. You look through the peephole and Eddie is waving.

"Ed, what the hell-"

"I gotta tell you about last night." He races in, high on adrenaline pacing your living room.

"Good morning to you too-" You shut the front door, "can I please make some coffee first? I'm exhausted."

"Bookclub ran late?"

"Something like that. Want a cup?"

"Sure, thanks." You sulk to the kitchen and make your coffee, wondering what the hell has Eddie all wound up. You make your way back, handing him his cup as he takes a seat on your couch. "Damn, what book are you ladies reading that has you staying up so late?"

"It's nothing. So tell me, how was your birthday?"

"Amazing, they took me to a strip club."

You swallow your coffee, hard. "Oh wow, what an event."

"You're telling me, it was incredible. Well at least, she was incredible."

"Oh god Eddie don't tell me you fell in love with a dancer-"

"You don't understand. There was just something about her, I-I know it sounds corny but it was like magic. I've never felt like that before." He looks around your living room, then reaching over and grabs your shoulders playfully, shaking you. "Am I going crazy?!"

You laugh, "I don't think so. I just find it hilarious that it's a fucking stripper you're talking about."

"Yeah, well-" Just as Eddie begins to move his arms something catches his eye.

A birthmark. On the left side of your body. In the shape of a heart. He looks into your eyes, the same color and sparkle that were under the mask. He looks at your hair, it's normally straight, why does it look curly and wavy?

All these small details come together in his head. He moves his hands off you and runs them through his own hair, piecing everything together.

"So yeah, uh-enough about me...how was...bookclub?"

"Oh god you don't wanna hear about my bookclub. Why-"

"No no, I do..want to hear....about the bookclub. Please tell me." He takes another sip of his coffee, staring at the birth mark.

You follow his eyes, "is there something on me?"

"Hm, no. Just....so, bookclub?"

"Oh you know, just another night of girl talk about a steamy romance novel and too much wine, just the norm." Eddie can't even think straight, all the events from last night come rushing to his head.

You ponder at him wondering if he's okay, "sweetheart are you alright? You're starting to worry me."

Sweetheart, a nickname normally used frequently but now it's different. He jolts up from your couch. "I gotta go. Dustin and I have...stuff-to do."

You're dismayed, just nodding your head. "Um okay, but if you need anything just let me know-"

"Yeah uh thanks. And thanks for uh the coffee and...talk."

He speedily exits your home, and you're left wondering if maybe just maybe...

Just a Few Hours Ago

You stand off stage looking out to the man sitting on the chair. Only to realize it was Eddie.

"Oh shit-"

"What's up girl? Everything okay?" Your co-worker, Jade, comes up behind you.

"I-I can't go out. You take my slot instead."

"What, why? I'm not on for another 20, why do you want to switch?" She signals to Cassie, the DJ, to hold off on the music. Cassie gives a thumbs up and waits.

"I know the guy sitting in the chair, he's one of my friends. I can't...dance for him."

"Why? He won't know it's you, we're all dressed up tonight."

"Yeah but it's just...awkward that I know and he...doesn't."

"Look, I understand where you're coming from but I think you should just do it. He won't know it's you, does he know you work here?"

"No no, he's here with his friends for his birthday," You watch him drum on his legs, probably nerves. "I wouldn't picture him as someone who would want to come out and do this but, there he is."

"So, give him the dance of his life. Something he'll never forget. Remember, you're not going out as yourself." You nodded your head, Jade was right. You signal back to Cassie to start your song when ready. You quietly thank Jade, take a deep breath and take the stage.

24 Hours Later

As you apply your lipstick looking in the mirror, your other coworker Bianca comes in. "Hey B! How was your daughter's band recital?"

She takes a seat next to you giving you a half hug. "It was great! She crushed her solo, I'm so proud of her."

"That's incredible. I can't wait to see the tape!"

"Oh before I forget, Pam wanted me to tell you you got a private dance at 10:30."

"Wait, really?" You ponder, turning around in the chair. "I haven't done a private dance in weeks."

"Guess someone really likes you because they asked for you specifically."

"Oh wow. Really? Okay then, thanks for the heads up."

"No problem, be safe!"

Once 10:30 rolls around you make your way to Room #2, opening the door and stopping dead in your tracks the moment you see who it is, casually lounging on the couch.

"Sup sweetheart?"

Quick Notes - Hope you enjoyed! :) Thank you for reading! Reblogs are much appreciated! Maybe Part 2? idk.

#Spotify #Stranger Things #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson fanfic #Eddie Munson fluff #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson blurb #Kierstyn Writes #Eddie Munson x You #GGG!Universe

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oneforthemunny · 4 months ago

Text

made with love, my valentine |janitor!eddie munson x teacher!reader|

prompt: you recruit eddie's help to make valentines for your class.

contains: fluff. just lovey dovey, lovesick fluff. early in their relationship, but super sweet <3

“There?”

Eddie grunted as lightly as he could, one hand holding the bouts of frilly, lace paper hearts, the other balancing the loaded staple gun that he should definitely not be holding so carelessly on a ladder.

“Yes, that looks perfect.” You gave a quick nod from below, holding his ladder steady.

Eddie caught a glimpse of the tiny smile you gave when your eyes met, beaming from the inside out the way you always did. His knees felt weak, heart skipping with an adrenaline rush of adoration and heat that poured out of his chest, crept all the way up to his cheeks. He hoped you couldn’t see, that his hair hid his blushing grin.

“Perfect.” You grinned, stepping back when Eddie stepped down, work boots wedged into the old, creaky ladder. “That looks amazing. So much better than I could’ve done.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Eddie shook his head, looking around the fully decorated classroom. You’d gone all out. You always did, trying to make the holidays the very best for your kids. Decorating to the nines, even with the little supplies and budget you had. You were crafty, that was for sure, a talent that always left Eddie in complete and utter awe.

“You did a helluva job without me. This place looks sick.” Eddie’s finger jammed against a paper heart that was dangling from the ceiling.

“Sick is good right? Sick in a good way?” You giggled, light and airy. Eddie knew his heart was stopping.

“Yeah, o-oh yeah, sorry, no, I didn’t- I didn’t mean it like sick, bad. No, sick-sick means good. Sick in a good way, like a cool way, ya know? Or that’s what I meant. When I use it, it means good and cool, n-not ew sick as in ill-” Eddie’s cheeks flamed, stammering around fumbled words. The last thing he wanted was to insult you, he would never.

“I’m joking with you, Ed.” You grinned, bumping your hip playfully against his. “I’m glad you like it. It took me hours.”

“Right, yeah,” Eddie swallowed the lump in his throat. “Hours?”

“Yeah, I mean, I had some of it from the years before, but most of the glue started coming undone, or they got all crinkled, so I had to start over.” You shook your head lightly. “My hands are completely torn apart. I have so many paper cuts.” You giggled, holding up your hands for Eddie to see. He had to fight the urge to hold them, intertwine your fingers in his like you had the weekend before.

“Looks pretty gnarly, sweetheart.” Eddie sucked in a breath, pointer finger tracing over the cut on your knuckle, leaving you shuddering. “Should’ve asked me to help. Could’ve at least brought you some gloves to wear.”

“It was fine. I did it during my planning period mostly.” Not a total lie. You had done most of it on your planning, and the other at home, until nearly two in the morning, when you were slumped over piles of shredded construction paper and glue sticks.

“But, if you’re offering,” The sing-song in your voice had Eddie’s heart lurching with hope, trying to still himself, remain cool at your soft smile. “I do need to finish up making Valentine’s for the class.”

You paused, giving him a tiny grin, lip tucked between your teeth. “And by finish, I mean I haven’t actually started.” Your lashes batted at him so sweetly, like you needed to sway him. Like he was on the fence of saying no, rejecting spending time with you? As if.

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Eddie tried to play it cool, shoving his hands in his utility pants pockets. “Whatever you need me for. I’ve finished for the night, so y’know… ‘M all yours.”

“Well,” You hummed, neck craning to look at the clock. “If you’re done, I thought maybe we could go back to my place?” Eddie was sure he was going to pass out, head reeling at your words.

“I just think that would be a little more comfy just to not… be here, ya know? I can order us a pizza and we can knock these out.” You paused for a moment, really scanning Eddie’s features. “Maybe you could stay the night if you want? If it gets too late.”

“Yes,” Eddie blurted before his mind could rationalize him stopping, eyes wide and words dripping with eagerness. “I mean, yeah, that would be… great.”

“Great,” You repeated, your own heart thumping with excitement that spilled all the way to your face, lips curling in a wide grin. “I just, um, let me grab a few things, and- You remember where it is, right?”

How could he forget? Eddie had been beyond nervous, palms too sweaty every time he came to pick you up. The handful of dates you’d been on were slowly becoming more and more frequent.

“Yeah, I do.” Eddie’s lips twitched, swallowing down his excitement, maybe his nerves. “I just gotta put this up and lock up, and I’ll meet you there?”

“See you in a few.” The words squeezed out of your chest, clutching your planner close to your body, slinging your purse over your shoulder.

“Oh, is pepperoni okay with you?” You stopped, turning the lock to your classroom, your voice echoing down the dim lit hallway towards Eddie. Damn, he had moved fast with that ladder, practically sprinted down the hall.

“Perfect for me.” Eddie called back, curls bobbing when he nodded. He’d nearly flung the ladder into the small hole of a janitor’s closet, snatching his lunch pail and keys before sprinting to the front, locking up and sailing down the cement stairs at the front of the school.

Every second that went by was a second too long, tires flying over the snow dusted roads that led to your small home. The porch light was on when he arrived, bright and warm and welcoming.

Eddie hesitated for a moment, whether he should ring the bell or just walk in. You knew he was coming, what would be the harm in going in? Still, it felt rude just to barge right in. Just to walk in felt arrogant, and what if you were naked? What if you were naked? Eddie’s cheeks began to heat, squirming at the thought.

“Hey,” The door opened before Eddie could decide, leaving him standing there, wide eyed and blinking in your presence. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” You giggled, leaning against the doorframe lightly.

“I couldn’t remember if I left it unlocked or not, and then I saw you standing here, so…” You trailed off, a little unsure of what to say, what not to say. It was all still so new.

“Yeah, s-sorry, I, uh, I was just trying to see if I-I left my wallet in the van.” Eddie stuttered out a lie, patting his pocket for emphasis, heart slightly dropping when he didn’t feel it there. Shit, did he leave it in the van?

“No worries, um, come on in.” You stepped back, opening the door for him.

Eddie immediately was wrapped in a warmth, a soft, sweet aroma that smelt entirely yours. He loved it, the few times he’d come over, every time it left him just as light and airy.

“Thanks so much for coming to help me.” You hummed, watching Eddie carefully from your place in the door frame as he shed his winter jacket, hanging it on the hook. “I thought I was going to be up all night again trying to make these.”

“Again?” Eddie lifted a brow, his tone teasing. “Sweetheart, you just call me whenever, alright? I’ll come over any time and help you out. Even if it’s the middle of the night.”

Your giggle was music to his ears, heart bursting at your smile. “That’s sweet, thank you.” Your smile warmed over him, left him spinning with desire. “I just need to finish these. I have six done, I think?”

Eddie followed you into your kitchen, stacks of construction paper laid out with scissors and hot glue guns, a list of names propped on the middle. “It was easier last year. I only had twenty-two kids, but with the zoning and all these new kids coming in…” You shook your head lightly, thirty-three kids listed on the attendance sheet. Eddie remembered Steve bitching about it at the beginning of the school year. He still wasn’t sure how either one of you handled it, but you both made it work, despite the district uncaring.

“Yeah, I bet it’s… rough.” Eddie nodded, pulling out a seat. “You just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. I’m yours for the night.”

Your smile spread, sitting next to Eddie. You showed him how to cut the hearts out, hot glue the paper lace on the edges, then press the other heart on the back to hide it. Eddie made them, setting them to the side so you could address them.

The better part of two hours was spent in your kitchen, giggling and chatting over pizza and beer, wiping your greasy fingers off on napkins so it didn’t stain the cards. You both wanted them to be pristine, perfect.

“So, uh, what-” Eddie cleared his throat gently, trying to shake the rattle in his voice from his nerves. “What are you doin’ on Valentine’s Day?”

He felt your eyes on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet your gaze. “A-Any big plans?” Eddie cringed at the tweaking crack in his voice. He felt like he was in junior high again, asking Lisa Caltrelli out to the Sweethearts Dance. He hoped you wouldn’t reject him like she did.

“No,” Your voice squeaked in response, creasing the paper between your fingers from your tight grip. You don’t know why you were so nervous, I mean, Eddie and you had been out before. It shouldn’t have shocked you so much when he asked you, but still, you were filled with an excited thrill.

“No, I-I didn’t really plan to do anything. I mean, I would like to, but I just… I haven’t made plans.” You winced at your babbled answer, anything but cool.

There was a pause, one that left your heart dropping with fear, your hands shook when you cut out the heart on red construction paper. “Um, well, I-I was just wondering if, if you’re not busy- shit, well, I know you just said you’re not busy. I just- I was wondering if you’d want to maybe go and get dinner?” Eddie’s wide eyes met yours, rounded with complete and utter fear and hope, like a deer in headlights.

“With me?” His mouth was dry, heart beating so fast he could feel it in his eyeballs, sweat starting to bead at his hairline.

You tried to swallow down your own excitement, heart soaring with adrenaline, biting back a wide grin and a squeal. “Yeah,” You nodded, lips curling and eyes shining. “Yeah, I would. I would love to go out with you again.”

“Really?” Eddie blinked, the words falling from his mouth before he could stop them. “I mean, really? Uh, great, that sounds… great.” Eddie ducked his own head down, gluing the paper lace to the heart, hoping his curls hid his pink cheeks and dimpled grin.

“I was thinking we could go to Dino’s- Do you like Italian food?”

“Yeah, I do. Love Dino’s.” You nodded.

“Great. Um, my buddy, Jeff is the manager there now, and they do this Valentine’s Day special. It’s- It’s not anything crazy, they just put like candles and rose petals and shit on the tables, but he said he could get us in.” Eddie’s knee bounced, buzzing with excitement.

“That sounds amazing,” You tapped the pen against the table, lips twitching with a smile you tried to hide. “It’s a date.”

Eddie laughed, grinning so wide you thought your heart might burst. “I’ll pick you up at seven? Is that enough time?”

“That’s perfect. I’ll have to clean up after the Valentine’s Day party, but-”

“-I’ll help you.” Eddie nodded eagerly. “I’ll swing by after I get done in the cafeteria. I’ll help you clean up.”

“Thank you.” You smiled sheepishly, ducking back to your craft.

Eddie’s hands were clammy when he leaned in to kiss you later that night, at your doorway, under the glow of the street lamp outside. He was even more surprised when you wrapped your arms around him, pulled him closer and deeper into the kiss, one that left you both swooning and heads swirling with adoration.

The next morning, Eddie was beyond pumped, eager for the day, knowing he had a date tonight. He nearly missed the small red heart that was waiting on his desk- a Valentine, from you.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Eddie. I can’t wait to see you tonight.”

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doberbutts · 1 year ago

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Recently Youtube's algorithm really wants me to watch Schindler's List and I never had so the other night I sat down and actually watched it.

Having a lot of thoughts about it but a major one I keep coming back to is how even an immensely and deeply flawed human being can go against "just following orders" and instead put in the work to actually help.

It may never be fully enough. It may never save as many as you'd hoped. But when you have a choice to either follow orders or save your fellow humans in front of you, I hope you choose the latter.

Schindler died in poverty. He was not a renown war hero nor was he at all famous or widely beloved. But he saw that he could help, even in some small way, and so he helped.

He was a Nazi who saw what the Nazis were doing to Jews and said no more. Enough. If I can even spare those under my charge, maybe a few extras, then at least I will have tried to do something about this.

I think a lot of people do not fancy this type of activism. It is messy, dangerous, and often completely thankless. Schindler survived as long as he did after the war due to those he saved helping him with donations. He was not popular in his hometown due to his association with Nazis, he was not popular in Germany, he was not popular in Argentina. His businesses all failed. His wife left him. A movie about his deeds was released several years after his death, where he would receive none of the benefits. He went to prison multiple times for simply refusing to hate Jews.

I think a lot of people like to think they're activists, but are sorely unprepared for doing this type of work, and then in truth become activists in name only. This is hard work. But without him, another thousand or so people would be on that death toll.

He took his position of extreme power- a Nazi owning a factory almost entirely operated by Jews, making oodles of money off that cheap slave labor- and said you know what? No. I'm not doing that. I can't save everyone, but as long as they are within my factory, you will not kill my workers. As long as I'm here you aren't harming one hair on the head of any Jew under my care. You're not sending or keeping them in Auschwitz. You're not randomly executing them for entertainment. They're people. You're not murdering them.

"Just following orders" they say. But they didn't have to. They could have helped. They could have did what he did, look around and say "what the fuck am I doing here", and stop. He did. They could have. They didn't.

#I think it's also intereating that he did not do it out of compassion at first #he did it because it was smart capitalism #jewish labor was super cheap and they were desperate to be considered fit to work because otherwise execution was waiting for them #only after the cleansing of the ghetto did he say whoa okay holy shit yeah no I'm not doing this anymore #that's also true of the real man the movie is about #I also think it's interesting that not everyone he saved thinks he was a good person #but even still despite his flaws they respect and admire what he did for them #his motives were not always pure #but the fact of the matter is that when he saw what was happening he chose to act against it #he did not shrug and saw welp orders are orders #nor did he succumb to hopelessness when it became difficult to keep up what he was doing

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vamprincessrina · 4 months ago

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𝕳𝖔𝖜 𝖙𝖔 𝕱𝖎𝖓𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖞 𝕾𝖍𝖎𝖋𝖙 (𝕺𝖗 𝕳𝖔𝖜 𝕴 𝕯𝖎𝖉)

I've always struggled with the concept of reality shifting. I had no problem when it came to manifesting in the “confines” of my current reality, but for some reason I could not, for the life of me, apply everything I knew when it came to making that bigger shift. I took breaks, I tried to “change” myself: I tried what felt like everything. And that was the issue.

I feel like there's a big emphasis in the community on not over-consuming or over-complicating shifting, but that often left my mind wondering why? I was supposed to “know” how to do it, “it's natural”, but my ego had disagreements. I think in the shifting community and, in a broader sense the manifestation community, has this constant reiteration of not questioning yourself, and just “letting it happen”. And of course I don't think that's bad advice necessarily. But, for me (and I'm sure others), that was something that never sat well until I learned better. It was creating so much resistance for me that ended up holding me back for longer than necessary.

Do not ignore that whisper of doubt inside of you. No, your doubts do not matter. But, that should not be conflated with ignoring them. You will doubt yourself. Your ego exists simultaneously with your highest self. Something that I did for a long time was thinking that I had to completely eliminate that in order to shift. Not only was I creating more doubts and confusion within myself, but I was imprinting in my subconscious that I had to become something in order to shift.

You can literally be the biggest skeptic on planet earth and if you still persist despite that fact, you can still shift and manifest. Imagine using that energy?

In the LOA community, it's often encouraged to “live in the end”. You're supposed to feel the feelings of having your desire, right? So, that would mean (or at least it did for me when it came to shifting) that I would have to be happy all the time, right? This can be incredibly misleading, I think, and it's funny how I let it be a factor in my own life when it came to shifting despite being a practiced manifestor. Thinking that you have to be happy all the time can be a very toxic mindset to have with yourself. First off, it can lead to a limerence relationship with shifting; conditioning yourself to believe that in order to be happy it requires being in that reality. Especially if, like me, you have a history with depression. I was basically telling myself that “I wasn't good enough to live in this reality unless I felt like ___.". It can also create a negative relationship with other emotions. No emotion is "good" or "bad". All parts of the ego exist to protect you. I have a post on this that I'd really encourage you to read if you struggle with this.

Another issue that came from my approach was, for the longest time, I was focusing on one reality that I wanted to shift to and told myself through constant affirmations and meditation that I was already there, "I've already shifted", etc. And while, YES, I knew that was true in the 4D, I was not able to shift for the entire year I persisted until I finally gave up. Do you know why it didn't work for me?

Because I wasn't able to fully convince myself that was true. And because of that, I wondered what was wrong with me. Surely, the method was fullproof, right? I told myself that it was because of my maladaptive daydreaming that I couldn't, I told myself it was because I wasn't in a good mental state that I couldn't. I started to unintentionally condition myself to think that anytime that I wasn't living in the end, I wasn't going to shift. I forgot the key part of it: letting go. But I couldn't. I had become so insistent on shifting realities and so stubborn in persisting in the way that I was doing it that it was detrimental to me. I didn't realize that I was boxing myself in: that I was telling myself, subconsciously, that I have to think like "THIS" to shift. I was also only limiting myself to the one reality that I was trying to shift to. I was limiting myself.

It was ridiculous, really, that it felt so easy to manifest everything else, but not this one thing. It was no wonder I was never shifting. It was no wonder I was constantly crashing and relapsing on self-destructive habits after having a good stint. I was ignoring my ego. I was telling myself, and living, a constant lie. I was so incredibly hard on myself and was teaching myself to believe that I wasn't good enough because I “couldn't” shift which was a problem for multiple reasons.

It was only when I reached the bottom again that I decided to stop being so hard on myself. I stopped telling myself that I had to do x,y,z. I stopped telling myself that the 3D doesn't matter. I love everyone, but I do take a big problem with telling people to ignore the 3D without expanding upon it. Yes. I could probably find a handful of my own posts where I said the same thing. Let me be clear: no, the 3D does not matter. Because it does not define you. However, do not fucking ignore it. Do not neglect yourself. Stop treating the 3D like it's your mortal enemy.

The 3D is your FRIEND. She is showing you the OLD PROGRAM. Now I want to pause to bring up another issue I had. And that is, putting all the weight on your own shoulders. “Oh, it must be my fault if the 3D isn't shifting”, “I'm not doing it right”, “This isn't working”. Stop, stop, stop.

Something that often led me astray was conflating “the 3D shows your past beliefs” with “time does not exist”. I used to be so confused by that. Okay, if time doesn't exist and everything is just a “state of being”, and if the “3D is showing my past beliefs”, how does that work? It didn't seem to matter for me when manifesting. I could tell myself that things were going on in the background and I could trust the process. But, when it came to shifting, I kept wondering when the 3D would reflect. It was harder to trust the process because it wasn't like there would be a gradual change like with manifesting. I was expecting to just wake up in the reality I was manifesting and it started to grow increasingly frustrating when I didn't and I continued to tell myself that I was in fact there.

Once again, I didn't realize I was boxing myself in. I had an EXPECTATION of what the manifestation was going to look like, while manifesting an open ended result to shifting. I kept manifesting that I was in ___ reality, but my ego was like no you fucking aren't? Basically, I was manifesting reality shifting in a way that didn't make sense for me. And by doing that, I was creating resistance.

And while, yes, manifesting that you have something in the 4D works. It IS how you can manifest with LOA. You DO have it in the 4D. It wasn't working for me when I was expecting a stark visual difference. What I'm trying to say is that, my approach to reality shifting using LOA wasn't working for me in the way that I was doing it.

So I took a step back. I got out my journal and I started thinking back on all that I knew. This is what I want to emphasize and what I think isn't said well enough by many. When we say each shifting journey is personal. WE MEAN IT. It took me way too fucking long of being stubborn with Neville Goddard's teachings and what my OWN idea of manifestation was and applying that to reality shifting before I reanalyzed.

If you are a skeptic, NOTE THAT. If you are depressed, NOTE THAT TOO. If you are telling yourself that you're in a different reality than you currently are and you're a naturally skeptic person (this is a self call out), then NO WONDER IT'S NOT WORKING. I was so stubborn in doing it one way until I had to break it down to basics and say, "Oh yeah there's more than one way to manifest so there's a lot more than one way to shift too." No kidding, right? But sometimes it's easy to forget these basics, even when you have experience.

The whole idea of over-complicating shifting (and manifestation) comes more from how much resistance you're creating for yourself and less what you do. I thought that if I tried to do "shifting attempts" then I would be over-complicating it. When in reality, I was over-complicating shifting by trying to constantly affirm something that I don't think I'd ever believe.

So, what did I do? First off, I decided that from now on I would stop telling myself I was in one reality and just "wait" for it to change. I'm sure that works for some people but it sure as hell wasn't working for me. I decided, instead, that I would meditate for a couple minutes before bed and just think about my desired reality. I would only give myself a little bit of time. By doing this, I would be affirming that it should NOT take more time than that to shift. And that, in that time, whatever I did should be enough. If when I stopped and opened my eyes I was still in my old reality, fine! All that means is that there's still more reprogramming to do. Doesn't mean that I'm doing anything wrong.

I would remind myself this at the time of the attempt and throughout the day. No matter how I felt, I would tell myself that, with enough persistence, the time would come where I WOULD shift just like that. I could also just roll over and shift in my sleep. By designating specific times to shift, I stopped letting it rule my life and beating myself up over it.

I would affirm "I believe I CAN shift", "failure does not faze me". Things like that. I also wanted to keep the "attempts" short, because I didn't want to come out of it with anxiety over not shifting. Was I allowed to be upset? YES. I stopped telling myself what I could or couldn't feel. I didn't need a reason to shift to a particular reality. I also no longer only had to focus on one reality by beginning to shift this way. If I wanted to attempt to shift to a FAME DR one night? Sure! If I wanted to attempt to shift to DCU the next? Great!

I stopped defining the "where" I needed to go and more so focused on the "how", if that makes sense. I told myself that this was about believing I can shift, NOT where I can shift. And so I persisted in this. If I decided to take a couple nights off, fine. It still was allowed to happen randomly when I slept. In fact, another thing I started to convince myself was that dreaming was a form of shifting and I sure as hell knew I could dream every night.

Of course, shifting is different than dreaming. But, I always had very vivid dreams. So, I just reminded myself that they're likely controlled by the same part of the brain and that dreaming is just a very loose, uncontrolled, and unintentional shift. And in a way, I do believe that it is. For me, a logician, I knew that I dreamed, lucid dreamed, and even astral projected once before, so it didn't seem unrealistic that shifting was real and was something I could do.

I was reprogramming my mind by doing something hands-on. By doing something measurable and tangible. Which I felt, with something like this, I needed to do. I'm a skeptic person. I have trust issues. If I created a controlled environment for myself to shift, then it could happen. And it did.

I needed trust in order to shift. I needed trust in order to manifest. My way of achieving those two things ended up being different and that's okay. I manifest a little differently than I reality shift. I stopped forcing myself to think that it all had to work the same way because I was limiting myself by doing that. I get depressed. I have trust issues. And that is okay. I still deserve to experience other realities and I don't have to do jack shit. I could have the worst day of my life and I can still meditate 5 minutes before bed and shift just like that. This is the new story I started to imprint on my subconscious.

Failure doesn't matter because I know that in the 4D this method WORKS and the universe is ALWAYS conspiring in my favor. I affirmed this. I reminded myself of this when I got doubts. My doubts were, and are, valid. All I needed to do was continue to have those attempts. Continue to believe that the 3D WILL update. That there is divine timing and have TRUST in that. To trust IS to surrender. I was finally able to surrender when it came to shifting by doing this method. And sure enough, I eventually did shift.

I hope this helps all of those who are frustrated and at their wit's end. Out of anyone else, you deserve it. You deserve it more than anyone just as you are.

𝕽𝖎𝖓𝖆.

#law of assumption #reality shifting #shifting #shiftblr #loassumption #loa tumblr #manifesting #manifestation #loa #law of attraction #reality shift #shifting methods #shifting community #shifting blog #shifters #shiftingrealities #shifting motivation #neville goddard

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simpee9000 · 10 months ago

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Not Just Friends - 4 -

M.List : Prologue : Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Not edited : 3.8k words

Childhood best friends turned into something more, at least with the label. Katsuki Bakugo, a fast-rising hero and fast-learning guy who is ever so slow in getting attached to and loving someone. Even three long years into a relationship, and your friends even forget you're even dating. Nothing happening, spare a few kisses.. like 3 kisses, during high school. Graduated and living together, and you guys have done absolutely nothing to further the relationship. Are you sure you're not just friends? CW: Smut, brief domestic violence discussion, virginity loss, aggressive flirting from creeps, gore with pro hero stuff (lmk if i missed any) Applies to all chapters regardless of it is in said chapter.

You've spent the past week working through Katsuki's watch. Only putting it down when handed a time restricted request for a support item fix. Testing the quirk removing feature on Mei and a few others around. Since you couldn't remove your own, at least you wouldn't realize until a week or so.

Once all the kinks were worked out, you placed it in a nice sleek black watch box. Tying it closed with a burnt orange ribbon. You were giving it to him as a gift, just like all the other watches you've given him in the past. This one just a lot more expensive and fully designed by you.

It was already Friday by the time the watch was done, completing two days before you said you would.

Friday's were also the days that Katsuki worked at his own agency a couple blocks away. So after getting a cab to his agency, you walked through the door. Instantly being recognized by the security team for the office and being allowed through with only a quick screening, just in case someone was pretending to be you. You smiled at the receptionist, giving a quick wave before you headed to the elevator.

After pushing in the button for the top floor, the floor that only held him and his closest heroes, you opened your phone to check the time. It was right before his lunch started, which meant he would likely be getting out of the showers. He always took a shower after first patrol and once getting home.

The task of looking at your phone made you think of making yourself a watch, maybe with a support item for yourself incase within. Break-ins for support items were getting a lot more common now days and you couldn't be safe enough. With nanotechnology you could probably make an upgraded suit to the one you've made in high school, that shared many similarities to Iron-man's.

Before you could ramble in your own brain about the idea anymore, you reached Katsuki's floor. Stepping out of the elevator and greeting his manger who was sitting just outside Katsuki's office in his own desk.

"How's your day so far, Tanaka?" you smiled at him.

He looked up at you, "I work with Dynamight," he said plainly and looked back down to his monitor. He reminded you of Shoto that way. Blunt and straight to the point.

You laughed lightly, "Right, he can be a lot." You looked around the office for a moment, "I'm assuming he is still in the showers."

"You'd be correct," his monotone voice would of made you feel stupid if you didn't know him. He's always like this, never changing his tone. He was always one steady mood, it's the main reason Katsuki chose him. Tanaka wouldn't get upset, but rather not take no as an answer. Which Katsuki hated but needed at the same time. It helped his press a lot.

You rocked on your heels for a moment, "Well, I'm going to wait in his office."

"Wait," he paused you, his face slightly paled. He looked stressed.

"What?"

"He told me not to let you in there without him," he answered, face back to normal without the threat of you going in the office.

Your brows furrowed, "Why?"

He shrugged, "Just made it clear to not let you in."

"Okay?" you stood confused on what to do. Kirishima wasn't in the office yet, and neither was Denki or Sero. It was the main reason Katsuki had lunch at this time. "Do you have anything I can help on then?"

He looked at you from over his glasses, "I suppose. Do you think he is more likely to do an interview with Heroes' Gossip or a fan signing at a Hero Expo next week?"

Katsuki hated both those things. Heroes Gossip was exactly that, heroes' gossip, and it got into the nitty gritty details. People who did well on that show were Heroes like Denki and Sero, ones with enough charm to by pass and person questions. Katsuki only went on once, and it was a train wreck, they brought up the details of his childhood with Deku and you. Asking how he felt about the idea of you and Izuku dating. It set him off.

On the other hand, he hated standing or sitting in one area for too long, especially signing things for fans all day long. It was hell on earth for him. He'd have to deal with fan girls trying to grab at him as well as older people criticizing his work.

"I think a Hero Expo might be better, as long as there isn't a hero he hates there and it isn't longer than three hours," you gave your feedback.

"You don't think he's over the last interview?" Tanaka rubbed at his eyes under his glasses.

You hummed, "He likely is, but that doesn't mean that it won't happen again. It'd be another PR nightmare."

"What is?" you looked towards the voice. Giving Katsuki a bright smile.

"Just you," you teased.

"Fuck off," he grumbled, walking past you and to his office door.

"Am I allowed in now?" you stepped alongside him.

Katsuki looked at his manger, giving him rare look of appreciation, and opened his door, "Yeah, Tanaka got food for a us a little bit ago. Should still be warm."

He opened the door for you, letting you walk in first and stepping in behind you, letting the door fall shut.

"What's up with the extra chair?" you pointed towards the chair that sat to the side that matched the one at his desk.

He walked towards the chair, grabbing in at rolling it to sit on the other side of the desk, "Yours, you always fuckin' steal mine."

You flushed at the gift. It was a open invitation into his office. It showed your place next to him. You ran your hand over the top of the chair, spinning it around to see the small details of your favorite color in the stitching. He custom ordered it.

"Thank you," you smiled at him, "You're the best." Finally, you take a seat and rolling it closer to his desk in order to eat. Setting your bag down next to you.

He flushed at the praise. "Tanaka got some of the food you likely from down the street," he pushed a takeout box near you. You instantly opened it, seeing it filled with your favorite order. It was a small sushi bar that you went to often, loving their rolls. Kirishima showed it to you after Fat Gum showed him.

You cracked open a pair of chopsticks that were left on top of the takeout box. Quickly looking to see that he was already digging in, obviously starving from work. "Busy day?" you asked picking up some food and eating a bite.

"Two bank robberies from one group. Pain in my ass," he grumbled, quickly scarfing down more food. After he physically couldn't fit more food in his mouth, he swallowed and drank some water before adding, "Got their asses though."

You nodded along, eating your food at a normal human pace.

"You do anything?" he put picked up another sushi roll in his chopsticks, dipping it in a spicy soy sauce.

The watch in you bag basically burned you with how quickly you remembered about it. Excited to finally give it to him. Before the look could wash over your face, you schooled your features. "Just normal work, Mei blew up some of her new project, so that was something." You were slightly surprised he hasn't brought up his watch to you recently. But you figured it was because his quirk calmed down a little, you haven't seen it act up since Tuesday.

"Isn't she always doing shit like that?" he asked, pointing his chopsticks at you.

"Yeah," you laughed. Looking down at his box you saw he only had two pieces left when he order two full rolls. "God damn vacuum cleaner," you laughed at him.

"Fuck off," Katsuki barked, "I was fucking workin' my ass off today."

"Still, god damn," you often teased him for how fast he eat compare to you. While he was on his last bites, you still had five to go. It wasn't that you were a slow eater, he was just a insane person.

He bit down on the last bites of food. Grumbling and crossing his arms. Proving whatever point he had.

Katsuki went on about his day as you finished up your food, going over how the chase went and what quirks the people had. It was the normal conversation of your lunches. He shared what he could about his job and you did the same.

Once you were done, he grabbed your take-out and threw away your trash. Harshly falling back into his chair, black with orange lining, matching yours.

You looked over his face, idly listening to him go own about his day as you admired him. He had a scar covering the right side of his face. Looking at it too long reminded you of what happened that day. The thought made you want to through up. Quickly, you pinched the fat of your thigh, reminding yourself of the present. You often went into thoughts like these. It was painful but the life of a pro heroes girlfriend.

Rather than dwell on his injury, you looked over the rest of him. His eyes were bright with a fire as he explained how he saved a kid from being buried in cement. You looked over the broad length of his chest, watching it rise with his breathing. Scanning down his arms till you saw his rough fingers drumming across the desk. All the small ways the proved he was alive.

"You good?"

The sudden question knocked you out of thought, you plastered on a smile, "Yeah."

His face scrunched up. before he could call bullshit you moved to reach for your bag.

"I actually brought you something too," you move your hand around your bag before you brought up the watch case. You placed it in the middle of the desk. His face was blank but his eyes were running over the box like crazy. You pushed it towards him when he didn't make a move for it, "Open it."

He glanced up at you, receiving a nod of encouragement, before he grabbed the box. Despite being a rough person, in attitude and everything else, he undid the box as carefully as possible. Sliding the ribbon off and opening the box slowly, as it would shatter.

His hands started shaking at the sight of it. In fear of dropping it, he rushed to place it back on the table. Frantically wiping his hands on his pants.

"Do you like it?" you questioned, worried from his reaction.

"How does it work?" he replied instead, picking it up and putting on his right hand.

Relieved that he liked it enough to immediately wear it, you leaned to point at the watch. "So if you twist this dial to the left one click, then to the right two clicks, and then back to the left for three click, you will have it unlock for identification, " you explained the detailed process. He wanted to make sure that no one else could unlock it and you made sure of it. Even you couldn't activate it once you set passwords in place. "Finally, see how it says 100% that's what your quirk is at right now, so turn it to zero and see how you feel," you sat back in your seat, watching him turn the dial.

He looked like a kid on Christmas as he spun it to 0%, his eyes flicked to you, "So I can try to use my quirk and it won't work?" You nodded.

With the dial at 0% he immediately felt the difference, the constant buzz of his quirk washing away, leaving just the buzz of your presence to warm him. He raised his hand outwards, still weary as he tried to set off his quirk, getting no spark or feeling of it at all. He tested a stronger explosion but received none.

"It fuckin' works," he smiled almost wolfish. You could see the ideas running though his brain at the lack of spark.

He played with the dial a little bit, seeing how the 20% and 40% suppressed his quirk. You glanced at the clock above his desk, seeing your lunch almost up. You'd have to leave soon if you wanted to stay on schedule. "Will this help your quirk training?" you asked, making sure he got what he needed.

"Huh?" he looked down at you from where he was standing and testing his quirk.

"You asked Z' about it for quirk training, that and your quirk's been weird," you filled in the gaps, lost as to how he didn't understand what you were talking about.

He let out a cough followed by a nervous laugh, "Yeah, should work great."

You shot him a look at his odd behavior, picking up your bag and standing to leave.

"What's your plans tonight," he fumbled with his words slightly.

"None?" you hiked the bag better unto your back, grabbing your phone so you could place an uber back to your agency. You didn't have your walking shoes on today. "I was just going to head home and read," you finished answering, "Why?" You quickly finished placing an uber before looking back up at him, confused once again.

His face flushed, " Ramen then? At out favorite spot," he stumbled to add on.

Your face softened. That was your main date spot, only used on highly celebrated dates or anniversaries. "Why there?"

"Just want to have a date with you," he mumbled, face now bright red.

"That happy about the watch? Kats you don't need to take me to dinner, I make you support gear all the time," you stepped closer to him, having been separated by his desk before he stepped around to you as well.

"You wanna go or not?" he huffed, fed up with being embarrassed.

"We don't need to-"

"Do you want to? Cause I want to," he cut you off, he crossed his arms as he leaned into his desk, you standing in front of him.

"Sure," you held back the tease, not wanting to set him off.

"Good, we'll leave home at seven," he pushed off from the desk, walking you out to the door.

You smiled at him, "See you then."

---

The ramen joint was fancy and hidden. Hardly anyone went there if they didn't want extreme privacy. It was something you and Katsuki quickly learned that you needed in your relationship. The public didn't fully know about your relationship, but they did know you two were close and childhood friends. So people speculated off that. So to avoid rumors, Katsuki and you went to hidden gem restaurants.

This ramen joint being a favorite, it was lit purely off candles or warm low lights. It was one of the only, if not the only, romantic restaurants that you two went to. Cozy lights with a dress code of formal.

So the two you walked up to the door, Katsuki offering a hand to help you up the stairs before the restaurant. While your heels and dress didn't make it too difficult, it was nice that it was offered. After grabbing his hand, you expected him to let go at the top of the stairs, but he led you through the restaurant, following the hostess and dragging you along.

Only when at the table he let go. Once the waiter got your drink orders Katsuki fumbled with his hands, "Thanks for the watch."

"Kats, it's nothing," you laughed off, "I've made you many support items, I don't know why you're so happy about this one." His face flushed at the call out. It really confused you, he seemed thrilled that he could turn off his quirk. It was honestly sad. Before you could ask anymore, the waiter gave you your sake and water before taking your food order. The service was great, but annoying for conversation currently.

"Just noticed the detail in this one," he shrugged, "fits me well and shit."

Now he was trying to play it cool? It was all weird.

"Are you sure you're telling me everything?" you accused.

"How was work this week? We spent lunch talkin' 'bout mine," he redirected the conversation.

You shot him another glare at his weird behavior, you'd figure him out eventually. For now you'd have a nice dinner with him.

---

Dinner was just that. Nothing much more. Service was great, so was the food, but conversation was horrible. He dodged any question towards himself, even if it was small. It was all about you and it felt wrong, in a strange way.

The two of you walked the short way back to your apartment. But with looking up at the sky, you regretted that decision. Small water droplets cover the sidewalk slowly. The rain painting it slowly. The streets were empty at only 9pm, you should of taken that as a sign of bad weather. Regardless, the two of you continued walking, him grabbing your hand once out of the restaurant. It was weird, but you let the thought fade at the chance to hold unto him for a little longer.

You swayed in your steps taking up the sidewalk as you stretched your arm to stay linked with Katsuki. He gave you a smile at your behavior. Making you flush and focus more heavily on your step. It reminded you of the romance movies the described this exact situation. A couple walking in the rain, late at night, streets empty as they confessed their love.

Katsuki tugged you towards him, spinning you into his hold, his hand letting go of your and grabbing onto your hips and you leaned into him. Your hands resting on his chest from surprise at the sudden change.

"You got that look on your face again," he smirked down at you. While used to his smile over the years, his smirk still made you weak in the knees.

"Huh?"

"You have a face you make when your thinking on your shitty romance movies," he pointed out.

"I do not," you pouted.

"Yeah it's like this," he scrunched him face to mimic yours horribly.

"Is not," you slapped his chest lightly, "I'd be surprised if you dated me while I made that face."

"Uh huh?" he teased, "cause it was spot on."

You rolled your eyes, face red from being in his hold.

"So what were you thinkin'?" he pushed, squeezing your hips slightly.

"Just all those movies with couples," you dodged until he squeezed again. "Fine, couples kissing in the rain, happy?"

His face flushed, matching the red hue on yours, before he looked up to avoided your stare. You were surprised he was holding you in general, but the fact he hasn't let go truly stunned you. Hugs between you two didn't last longer than a couple seconds. And this was a lot more romantic than a hug.

"Do you wanna?" he looked back down, his eyes tracing over your face between landing on your lips.

"Wh..what?" you stuttered. He looked back up to your eyes.

"Do you want to kiss?" he spelt out for you, face becoming impossibly redder.

"Yeah," you breathed out, looking down to his lips before both your eyes shot to look at each other. Making sure this was okay.

The tension was shooting through your bones. He hasn't offered to kiss since graduation, which was over a year ago.

He pulled his hand away from your waist and up to your face, wiping away the rain that fell on your cheek before he slowly leaned in. You eyes fluttered shut before you felt his lips hit yours. Instantly melting into the new feeling.

Every time before he was either freshly from the hospital or the two of you were excited and let it run you into a kiss that only lasted a moment before you were off running to friends and family during graduation.

Your knees caved slightly, letting you fall even deeper into the kiss, deeper into him, as you tilted your head. The kiss was just like him, explosive. It left you buzzing as he pulled away for a breath.

He rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes before breathing out heavily, "I'm sorry we don't do that often enough."

Your once closed eyes shot up, you slightly pushed away from him, "What?"

He furrowed his eyebrows, "I just wish I haven't been holding that out of our relationship."

You pushed yourself out of his hold, stepping back, "Katsuki Bakugo."

"What?" he almost demanded.

"I told you that I was fine without physical touch. I've been fine without it. Yet the second you've found out, you've been weird," you pushed a finger into his chest, "Now your kissing me, saying sorry? How do you think that makes me feel?"

He shook his head, "I don't see the problem."

"Of course you don't," you basically lectured, "Our relationship has been steady. Sure it hasn't been typical, but it's been us. Yet the second someone mentions that I like touch, you've been all weird."

"I want to make you happy? Is that fuckin' horrible?" Katsuki huffed.

You scoff, "No, but you were already making me happy. Now you are doubting our relationship, not telling me about your quirk issues, and worst of all, pushing yourself when I didn't ask. If you aren't ready for things that's fine! If your never ready, that's also fine. I just want you Katsuki. I want the you that doesn't give two fucks about what anyone thinks."

His head hung, his hands coming up to rub at his face. "I don't know how to fuckin' do this shit," he mumbled.

You stepped closer to him, "Just stop worrying about every little thing. I'm with you, you don't have to win me again. Just do what you want and I'll tell you if I have an issue."

"And what if what I want is to kiss you more and other stupid shit," he muttered under his breath.

Your face flamed with the comment, "Well," you cleared you throat, "if that's what you want, then I'd be happy to. But only if it's what you actually want."

"Of fuckin' course it is, why wouldn't I want to kiss my damn girlfriend," his wolfish grin was back quicker than ever as you pulled you into him. Quickly getting over the little spat the two of you just had.

"I don't know, you haven't wanted to before," you shrugged in his hold.

"Oh I've wanted to," he protested.

"Then why haven't you?" you tilted your head.

"Reasons," he took your held tilt as an opening, slotting his lips against yours. You slapped at his shoulder for dodging the question but you quickly moved to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer. He hugs you closer as he swayed the two of you in your kiss. Letting the rain soak the two of you to the bone without a second thought. Only worried about the one in front of you. Any worry dripping out of your soul just as the water dripped out of your clothes. Because even though he hated the rain, he loved you more.

-Next Part-

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greengoblinswifey · 5 months ago

Note

Hii can you do one of Nicholas Chavez where your dating his brother.. you have been dating for 3 years but then one day you catch your boyfriends brother(Nicholas) in his room moaning y/ns name !🤭

warnings— infidelity, male masturbation, betrayal, slight voyeurism, daddy kink, fingering, praise kink, unprotected sex, creampie.

a/n— love love love this, enjoy and lmk if you guys wanted to me on my NAC taglist <3

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

It was a typical evening at your boyfriend's house. You were lounging in the living room, scrolling through your phone, while he was in the kitchen, cooking dinner. His brother, Nicholas, was nowhere to be seen—at least, not until you heard the faint sound of music coming from his room.

You had always found comfort in the quiet moments at their house, the familiarity of their home filling you with a sense of belonging. But tonight, there was something different about the atmosphere. As you listened to the muffled hum of the music, a part of you couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.

You told yourself to relax, to enjoy the time you had with your boyfriend, but then it happened.

You heard it.

The faint sound of your name—mixed in with moans.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you froze. There was no mistaking it. The voice was unmistakably Nicholas’.

Your mind raced. Why was he saying your name like that? Was he talking to someone else? You stood up slowly, your feet carrying you to the door of his room without fully understanding why.

You pushed the door open just a crack.

And there he was.

Nicholas, sitting on the edge of his bed, his hand gliding along his hard, thick cock looking lost in the moment.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he moaned again, his voice deep and thick with desire.

You felt a wave of shock wash over you, your breath catching in your throat. A part of you wanted to turn around and run out of there, but another part of you, a much darker part, couldn't pull yourself away.

You stood there frozen, the door still ajar, barely able to breathe. Nicholas hadn’t noticed you yet, too far gone, his eyes squeezed shut, his muscles on his sculpted body tense. Your name fell from his lips once more, and the sound of it made your pulse race.

“Y/N,” he moaned again, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

You felt your stomach flip, guilt and confusion mixing with something darker, something you hadn’t wanted to acknowledge before. This was wrong, yet you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. You had to remind yourself that this was your boyfriend's brother.

A sudden noise from downstairs broke the trance. You snapped out of your thoughts, heart hammering in your chest. You quickly stepped back from the door, pulling it almost completely shut, but not fully. You couldn’t look away, though you knew you should.

It wasn’t until the soft shuffle of footsteps filled the hallway that Nicholas finally opened his eyes, realizing you were there.

For a moment, there was silence. His eyes locked onto yours, wide with shock and confusion. His breathing was heavy, chest rising and falling rapidly as if he, too, was trying to process what had just happened.

“Y/N—” Nicholas’ voice was barely a whisper, filled with the weight of unspoken words. He didn’t move, his posture stiff.

You swallowed hard, the words barely forming in your mouth. “What—what the hell was that?”

His eyes darted away for a second, his face flushing a deep shade of red. He shifted on the bed after pulling up his sweats, clearly flustered. “I didn’t mean for you to hear that.”

You took a step back, your heart racing, your mind swirling. “You didn’t mean for me to hear that?”

He stood up quickly. “Look, I’m sorry,” he said, his voice quiet but urgent. “I didn’t mean for it to happen like this.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the pieces finally falling together. The tension, the moments when he’d get a little too close, the way his gaze lingered on you a little too long. You'd noticed it before, but you had never dared to think about it. You couldn’t have, not with your boyfriend, his brother—you never thought it would come to this.

“Nicholas,” you whispered, the confusion and anger giving way to something else, something dangerous. “I—this isn’t right. You’re my boyfriend’s brother. We’ve known each other for years.”

“I know. God, I know.” Nicholas stepped closer, his voice urgent now. “But I can’t help how I feel. I’ve tried. Every day, I’ve tried to push it away. But you, you’ve always been there. And I’ve thought about you in ways I shouldn’t. You saw it.”

You felt your heart skip a beat at his words, and the air around you seemed to crackle with the tension between you both. “This is a mistake. This has to be a mistake.”

“I don’t want it to be,” he said, his voice a low rasp, stepping closer still. “I can’t just forget what I feel.”

You backed away, your breath quickening. “I don’t know what to say to you, Nicholas. This is insane. I’m with your brother. I love him.” Your voice wavered slightly, but you couldn’t let it falter. You couldn’t give in.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered, his eyes desperate now. “But I can’t pretend like this isn’t real. I can’t keep living with how much I fucking want you.”

The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. Every word, every breath between you felt like it could be the start of something you couldn’t take back. You could feel the pull between you, the temptation, the danger, and it was almost too much.

What the hell do you do now?

“I could treat you better, I could fuck you better—I haven’t heard your sweet moans at night in months Y/N.”

You didn’t know how to respond. The urge to run, to get out of that room, was almost overpowering. But something pulled you back toward him.

Nicholas’ words still hung in the air, sharp and heavy. You could barely breathe, your mind reeling. His voice echoed in your mind as if each word was a spark, igniting something deep inside you that you had worked so hard to suppress. You felt sick, guilty, confused. But there was something undeniable in his words, something that had taken root in your thoughts.

You shook your head, as if trying to rid yourself of the feeling. “Stop,” you whispered, taking a step back. “I can’t listen to this. This is wrong.”

Nicholas stood there, his eyes intense, unyielding. “You know I’m right. You know it’s not like it used to be with him. You’ve felt it, haven’t you?”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words suffocating you. The truth was, you had felt something slipping between you and your boyfriend lately—distance, disconnection, but hearing Nicholas articulate it, him of all people, felt like a slap to the face.

“I’m with your brother,” you said, your voice shaking, but firm. “I can’t do this. I’m not doing this with you.”

His expression softened, but only for a moment. His gaze flickered to the door. “You should think about it. Really think about it. Because you deserve more.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. With one last glance at him, you turned and hurried out of the room, your heart racing, as you tried to force your thoughts to focus on anything else. Anything but what had just happened.

You found your boyfriend downstairs in the kitchen, humming as he prepared dinner, blissfully unaware of the storm you were carrying inside. The warmth of his smile, the moment, only made you feel worse.

You tried to push everything out of your mind as he approached you, his arm wrapping around your waist. His lips found the side of your neck, kissing it softly, and you felt your heart drop.

“Everything okay?” he asked, his voice low, concerned. “You’ve been up there for a while.”

You nodded quickly, forcing a smile. “Yeah, just uh just needed a minute. Everything’s fine.”

You felt his lips press against your neck again, and for a moment, you thought you might melt into the warmth of his embrace. You couldn’t think of how to explain what had just happened, and frankly, you weren’t sure you were ready to confront it.

He pulled back, his eyes meeting yours with a smile that made your stomach twist. “Good. You know I hate seeing you upset,” he said, brushing a strand of your curly hair behind your ear. “Come on, let’s sit down and eat.”

Later that night, after dinner, your boyfriend had suggested a casual movie night. “Hey, why don’t you watch something with us, Nick?” he called up to his brother, who had been silent since dinner. “It’ll be good to have all of us together for once.”

You felt a pit form in your stomach at the thought of spending more time with Nicholas, especially after everything that had happened earlier. But you didn’t have much choice. You couldn’t act suspicious. So, you sat down on the couch, trying to keep your distance.

Nicholas appeared in the doorway, hesitating for a moment before sitting down right next to you. He didn’t say a word, just settled in with his gaze lingering on you a little too long. You tried to focus on the TV, your eyes straight ahead, but you could feel his presence next to you—his every movement, every shift in his seat felt like an electric current, almost too much to bear.

He was so close now, just beside you. You could feel his warmth, his proximity making it difficult to concentrate. Every few seconds, your peripheral vision caught him glancing at you, his gaze sharp, searching.

You tried to ignore him. You tried to pretend he wasn’t there. But it was hard when he was right beside you, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Every now and then, you felt his leg brush against yours, sending a jolt of heat through you. It made you feel like you were betraying yourself with every second that passed.

Your boyfriend, oblivious to everything, wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer. You leaned into him, trying to ground yourself in the comfort of his touch, but Nicholas’ presence was like a constant hum in your ear. Every time you shifted, you could feel his eyes on you, his gaze burning into your skin.

At one point, you glanced toward him, just a fleeting moment and found his eyes already locked on you. He didn’t look away, not for a second. The intensity in his stare made your heart skip a beat, but you quickly averted your gaze, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

Your boyfriend kissed your temple, pulling you closer into him, unaware of the silent tension building between you and Nicholas. “You okay?” he whispered softly into your ear, his voice a soothing contrast to the storm that was raging inside you.

“Yeah, just tired,” you muttered, your voice shaky, betraying the calm you were trying to hold on to.

Nicholas shifted beside you, just enough for you to feel it, and you couldn’t help but feel the weight of his attention on you. Every time you reached for the popcorn or adjusted yourself, his gaze followed, and you could feel it. It was torture. Every second felt like it stretched on for hours.

The movie played on, the dim light flickering across the room. Your boyfriend, wrapped in a cozy blanket beside you, had fallen into a deep sleep, his light snoring filling the otherwise quiet room. You shifted slightly, trying to ignore the discomfort creeping up your spine. Then, without warning, you felt a hand on your thigh. Your breath hitched, and you froze.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to wake your boyfriend.

Nicholas didn’t pull away. His fingers gently caressed your skin, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

“Just hear me out,” he said, his voice low, “Just listen to what I have to say.”

You could feel the weight of his words, but you resisted. “I don’t want to hear it,” you replied, your throat tightening as you pulled your legs closer to you.

But he didn’t give up. He leaned closer, his lips almost brushing your ear as he spoke. “I know you’re not satisfied,” he murmured, the words cutting through the tension in the room. “The fact that you’ve even considered this tells me everything I need to know. My brother isn’t satisfying you.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, but you forced yourself to respond, even though your voice cracked. “I’m very happy with him,” you said, the words feeling hollow even to your own ears.

Nicholas chuckled softly, the sound low and almost mocking. “You don’t even believe that yourself.”

You tried to push his words away, but his gaze was unrelenting. He was too close, his presence too overwhelming. “You’re sexually frustrated, aren’t you?” he continued, his voice so smooth it almost felt like a caress. “I could never do that to you. You deserve so much more. You’re beautiful, I’d treat you like a queen.”

You wanted to ignore him, wanted to focus on your boyfriend beside you, but he wasn’t done. “He’s been texting other girls, you know. And I would never do that to you. Not in a million years.”

Your stomach dropped at the thought. “H-he has?” The words left your lips before you could stop them, the vulnerability in your voice unmistakable.

Nicholas leaned in closer, his hand moving gently to tuck a stray curl behind your ear. His voice was soft, almost comforting, but you could hear the hint of something darker underneath. “Yes,” he said. “But I’m here now.”

You felt a wave of hurt wash over you. The truth of his words, the insinuation of betrayal, it all hit you harder than you expected. You wanted to cry, but Nicholas was there, his presence suffocating yet oddly comforting. “Don’t cry sweetheart,” he whispered, his tone soft yet possessive. “Daddy’s here.”

Your mind was spinning. You could feel the weight of the moment, the pressure of his words tugging at your resolve. Your heart was torn between the man beside you and the brother who had just shattered your world with a few whispered sentences.

“I won’t hurt you,” he murmured, his gaze intense. “I just want you to see that there’s more out there than what you have right now. You deserve someone who makes you feel alive again.”

You swallowed, your heart racing. It wasn’t like you didn’t feel the pull—Nicholas was captivating, his words hitting too close to home. But you couldn’t betray your boyfriend like this. Not now, not ever.

Then, in a sudden, heated moment, Nicholas leaned in closer. The smell of his cologne lingered in the air as he moved, his lips hovering just inches from yours.

“I just want to show you how good it can be,” he whispered. “You don’t have to pretend anymore.”

Before you could answer, his lips brushed yours lightly, a soft, tentative kiss. Your breath hitched, your heart pounding against your chest.

The kiss wasn’t forceful. It was slow, almost gentle, as if he was testing the waters, gauging your response. You didn’t know how to react. Part of you wanted to pull away, but another part of you, one that you didn’t want to acknowledge, wanted to give in.

Nicholas pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours, looking for a sign of something. You were still frozen, unsure of what to do next. Then, just as the quiet settled in, you heard your boyfriend shift beside you, a soft groan escaping his lips as he stirred from his deep sleep.

His hand moved on your thigh after the distraction, his touch light but deliberate. His fingers trailed higher and higher until they settled on your crotch with your shorts being the only thing separating him from your pussy. Every brush of his fingers rubbing your pussy through the fabric made your heart race, your mind spinning with the growing conflict inside you. You could hear your boyfriend, deep in sleep beside you, unaware that his brother was about to finger you.

“You’re frustrated, if you weren’t, you wouldn’t be letting me do this.”

You wanted to push him away, to shut him down, but his words lingered, threading through your thoughts. The way he said it, so sure of himself, made you question things you hadn’t before. Your lips parted to respond, to say that everything was fine, but when you spoke, your voice cracked.

“Let me make you feel good.” His fingers gently stroked the inside of your thigh, the movement so slow, so calculated, that it sent a shiver through you. A gasp left your lips before you pressed your lips together to be quiet as he ripped your shorts open. His fingers went to your clit, rubbing it and spreading the wetness you were shocked graced your pussy.

You tried to turn your attention to your boyfriend, who was still lost in sleep, but the pull of Nicholas’ presence was too strong. His words, his touch, were disorienting. He chuckled softly as you moaned, the sound warm and knowing. “You deserve more. You’re beautiful, and you should feel like it every single day. I could make you feel wanted, really wanted.” His thumb traced small, soothing circles on your clit, and you fought to keep your focus. “I could treat you better than he ever has.”

Your pussy fluttered at his words. There was something about the way he spoke, so certain, so confident. Two of his fingers slid pressed lightly into you, curling to meet your sweet spot. You didn’t pull away, despite everything in you screaming to stop. His fingers were moving steadily, the pressure of his touch made your pulse quicken.

“You deserve more than this,” he repeated, his voice almost a whisper now. “I would never let you feel neglected. I’ll always make you feel like a queen.”

You could feel his breath against your ear as he leaned in closer. You had to bite your lip to hold back the moans as he finger fucked you right beside your boyfriend, his brother.

Everything in you screamed that this was wrong, that you couldn’t betray your boyfriend like this. But Nicholas was there, his touch gentle and making you feel utter pleasure, and it was hard to fight it. You felt a wave of guilt wash over you, but at the same time, something else, your orgasm, was stirring inside you.

His thumb moved to your clit as his fingers continued pumping inside you and your breath caught in your throat. “Don’t fight it,” he murmured. “I can make you feel better than he ever could. You don’t have to be stuck.”

You wanted to tell him to stop, to push him away, but all you could do was sit there, caught between the two of them—your boyfriend, asleep beside you, and Nicholas who was working his fingers inside you even faster now. You hoped your boyfriend wouldn’t hear the loud squelching your pussy was making.

As your orgasm built, you tried to move away, but Nicholas’ fingers remained thrusting inside you. “I’m here now,” he said softly. “Let me be the one to make you cum.”

The words wrapped around you, and for a moment, you were torn between guilt and something else, something you didn’t know how to define. All you could do was sit there, fighting the emotions inside you as his fingers repeatedly thrusted against your g spot, a reminder of the choices you didn’t want to face.

“Please,” you whispered, clutching onto his shoulder as you felt yourself nearing the edge.

“Please what? Is it what I think it is? Do you wanna cum for daddy?” Nicholas whispered back.

You didn’t want to admit you were about to betray your boyfriend in the worst way possible, even if you were too far gone and tethering on the edge.

“If you want me to make you cum, you’re gonna have to beg me, say please daddy, please let me cum,” Nicholas whispered, darkly.

Maybe it was the fact that your boyfriend had been neglecting your needs. At least—that’s what you told yourself to feel better about what you were about to do.

“P-please daddy, please let me cum, I need it so bad,” you gasped into his ear, softly.

Nicholas smirked cockily, his movements more precise and he hummed in content feeling your wet pussy clench and gush around his fingers. He finger fucked you through your high, the sound of squelching filling the living room from how wet you were.

“That’s it, you’re such a good girl, you did so well,” he cooed before bringing his fingers to his mouth to clean your juices.

Nicholas held you close, his hands supporting you effortlessly as he lifted you. Your legs instinctively wrapped around him, the proximity overwhelming in the best and worst way. You could feel his heartbeat through his muscular chest, steady and firm, yet your own pulse was erratic, betraying the conflict in your mind.

His eyes never left yours, searching for something in you that mirrored what he was feeling. He was so close, his breath warm against your ear. “Tell me if you don’t want this,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, the question lingering in the air. “I’ll stop right now, but I need you to tell me.”

You felt a rush of emotions, a mixture of desire and guilt. You couldn’t speak for a moment, your heart pounding, a knot forming in your throat. Everything inside you wanted to pull away, but everything else, the weight of his words, the pull between you two, made it impossible.

Nicholas shifted slightly, his hand resting lightly on your back, coaxing you to face him. He was patient, letting you breathe, giving you the space to process. But you could barely think.

“Look at me,” he said softly, his voice still steady but with an undercurrent of something else. “I need to hear you say it. Say you want this.”

You hesitated, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt, a mix of nerves and longing twisting in your chest. He was right there, his gaze intense but gentle, and it was hard to fight the warmth in your stomach and the fluttering of your pussy.

You buried your face in his neck, too shy to meet his gaze. The words you needed to say felt so foreign, so risky, but you knew he wanted to hear them.

He chuckled softly, the sound almost a caress. “Baby, look at me,” he repeated, this time firmer, the hint of command in his tone. “Don’t hide from me, not now. Tell me what you want.”

Your breath hitched, and you slowly pulled away, your eyes meeting his. Your heart raced in your chest as you finally let the words slip out, barely above a whisper.

“I want this, I want you,” you murmured, your voice faltering slightly.

Nicholas’ lips curled into a soft smile, his hand lifting to gently brush your cheek. “Good girl,” he said, the approval in his voice warm, like he’d just won something precious. “You won’t regret this.”

He held you even tighter, his grip supportive as he began to carry you, your heart racing with every step. You felt the overwhelming mix of emotions, of everything swirling in your head—guilt, desire, hesitation, but also something you hadn’t expected, trust.

His voice was soft as he walked, his pace steady as he made his way upstairs. “I’ll make you feel like the queen you are,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. “No more doubts. You deserve to be treated the way you’ve always wanted.”

You nodded slowly, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. You wanted to protest, wanted to pull away, but your body didn’t listen. It was as though you were pulled into this moment, caught in the push and pull of your emotions.

He set you down gently on his bed. his hands lingering on your waist, looking at you with a tenderness that made your chest tighten. “You don’t have to be scared,” he said quietly. “I’m here now. And I’ll never let you down like he has.”

You didn’t know what to say, your mind too fogged with everything to process. But there, in that moment, you made a decision, you would trust him, even if you weren’t sure of what it all meant. All you could do was nod.

The atmosphere in the room was thick, heavy with what lingered between you and your boyfriend’s brother. Every brush of his hand removing your clothes, every tender kiss, seemed to deepen the connection. His fingers gently grazed the curve of your waist, pulling you even closer, his chest pressing against yours as the kiss deepened.

You could feel your heartbeat in your throat, in your chest, thumping against the walls of your ribcage like it wanted to escape. You couldn’t pull away. You didn’t want to. He removed his clothes revealing his chiseled body that made your pussy throb.

Nicholas’ lips barely left yours as he moved, his body shifting to position you under him and his cock against your wet pussy. He was careful, mindful, his hands tender but firm, never rushing. His lips broke from yours only for a moment, breathing heavily against your skin. “We need to be quiet,” he whispered, his voice rough, strained with desire. “I don’t want him to hear us.”

You nodded, your body already reacting to him, but you swallowed the urge to let out a noise, to say something, anything. The weight of the moment was almost too much.

His hand slid gently up your back pulling you against him as his raw cock pushed inside you, and you bit your lip to hold in a soft gasp. Nicholas, ever so perceptive, caught the small tremor in your body and looked down at you with an almost amused expression. “You’re so beautiful when you’re trying to keep quiet,” he murmured, his voice soft, full of admiration.

You felt warmth rise in your cheeks at the compliment, and you knew you couldn’t hold back much longer. He wasn’t letting you. He was pulling you into him, his cock working slowly, carefully, but every thrust seemed to melt away the last bit of resistance you had.

“I want you to feel good, sweetheart,” Nicholas whispered again, his voice barely audible. “I want to see you lose control, baby. Let me take care of you.”

His words were like a spark, igniting a fire deep within you. You weren’t sure how much longer you could keep quiet, your breaths already coming faster as his cock pounded into you, his fingers brushing against your skin as he leaned down to kiss your neck.

The kiss was slow, deliberate, each movement calculated. But even in the midst of his tenderness, you felt your orgasm building. You tried to hold it in, tried to keep the moans from slipping out, but the way Nicholas fucked you, the way his cock and lips made you feel, made it almost impossible.

“Shh,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “I know it feels good, baby, but we have to be quiet, okay?”

You nodded, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you as you tried to focus, tried to control the way your body reacted. The struggle to remain silent only added to the intensity of the moment. His lips trailed down to your tits, his tongue darting out to lick your brown nipples. “You’re doing so well,” he whispered against your skin. “You’re so strong, baby. So beautiful. I can feel how much you need this.”

His words were like honey, sweet and comforting, but they made your heart race even faster. You knew you couldn’t hold back much longer. The intimacy, the quiet tension, was too much.

You closed your eyes, focusing on the steady rhythm of his cock and the sound of your own shallow breaths. “I don’t know if I can hold back,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your skin as he kissed you again, this time on your lips. “It’s okay. Cum for daddy. I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

Each touch felt more intimate than the last, each moment more precious as he pounded into you steadily, his eyes locked on yours. In that moment, you surrendered—not just allowing your orgasm to take you over and soak his cock but to the emotions that were rising to the surface.

Nicholas’ orgasm followed soon after, his hot load filling you to the brim and making you bite down on his shoulder as he whispered dirty things in your ear.

As the room settled into a quiet, almost still air, Nicholas' cock remained inside you. His gaze never wavered from yours, intense and searching, as if trying to read every thought in your eyes.

“You deserve so much more than you realize,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. His words seemed to linger in the air, pressing against your thoughts, making you feel exposed, vulnerable.

You swallowed, trying to compose yourself, but the intensity of the moment, the depth of his words, made it hard to focus. “Nicholas,” you murmured, your voice trembling just slightly as you tried to find the right words.

He pulled out and gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine. “Shh,” he soothed. “I need you to hear me. I’m here for you, I’m not like him. I’ll treat you the way you deserve. You don’t need to settle for anything less.”

His words caught you off guard. Not like him—his brother. The one you’d been with for so long, who you thought you knew. It was all so confusing, yet you couldn’t help but feel something stir—something both thrilling and terrifying.

“I’m not like him,” Nicholas repeated softly, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’ll show you what it means to be treated right. You deserve everything, and I’m going to make sure you see that.”

Your chest tightened. You couldn’t deny the mix of emotions that bubbled up inside of you—the desire to believe him, the frustration with your own confusion, the need to protect your heart. You tried to look away, but his presence was too overwhelming, his gaze too penetrating.

“I—I don’t know what to say,” you admitted, your voice soft, your hands nervously twisting.

“Say you’ll give me a chance,” he urged, his voice steady but coaxing, his hand sliding down to rest gently on your thigh. “I’m not going to pressure you,” he said softly, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin. “But just know that when you’re ready, I’ll be here. You’re mine, and I’ll make sure you know that, every single day.”

You shifted slightly, your mind spinning with a mix of emotions.“I- I don’t know if I’m ready for this,” you whispered, almost to yourself, but Nicholas leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke.

“You don’t have to be, baby,” he said softly, his breath warm against your skin. “But just know that I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Nicholas held your gaze for a few more moments, before gently lifting you up, his hand resting protectively around your waist.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he repeated, a promise you weren’t sure you were ready to hear, but you couldn’t help but feel a part of you believe it.

As he helped you stand, he turned to you. “Now go lay beside him with my cum dripping out of that tight fucking pussy.”

325 notes · View notes

ilsanslut · 2 years ago

Text

꒷♡꒷ TREAT YOU BETTER!

♰ featuring: sae itoshi + rin itoshi (mentioned) [blue lock]

♰ note: this one is a DOOSY and i'm not even kidding when i say it took me 9 hours and 45 minutes to complete this, over the course of two days of course. However, as my first time ever writing on tumblr, i decided to go all out! that being said, it would mean a lot to me if you would support this work by reading, liking, and reblogging!

sypnosis: why be with his lukewarm little brother when you could be with him instead? wc: 6.6k content/trigger warning(s): 18+. fem/fem-bodied reader. POST BLUE LOCK. sibling rivalry. implied thick/chubby!reader. sae is mean. jealous!sae. bully!sae. rin is 19. sae is 21. CHEATING. degradation. unprotected sex. fingering. squirting. rough sex. DUBIOUS CONTENT. spanking. dacryphilia. slut shaming. groping. implied size kink. minor angst. hair pulling. ONE face slap. pussy slapping.꒷꒦ view the second part here: part two.

Coming home for the holidays, birthdays, or other special occasions is somewhat of a family tradition that enables people to slow down and focus on spending quality time with loved ones. These kinds of celebrations give families that may otherwise be estranged from one another due to work or geography the chance to reunite and enjoy each other's company. And this reasoning was no different in the Itoshi household. What was the occasion for this month’s gathering? Well, it was Mama Itoshi’s birthday, of course!

You see, you have known Rin and Sae Itoshi since you were all very young. Your mothers were best friends, and by default, that meant that you three would become close as well.

Growing up with the Itoshi brothers, on the other hand, was . . . interesting, to say the least. Where Rin found your presence to be refreshing, Sae found you to be a nuisance. You didn’t care for football; you got in the way of his practice; and you were a girl. He always thought you were too weak to play with, and he didn’t hesitate to make his feelings known to you. Pulling your hair until you screamed, pushing you around when you weren’t even in his way, and calling you mean names until your little E/C eyes welded up with fat tears were just some of the things he would do to torment you. Had it not been for little Rinnie stepping in and protecting you from his brother’s outright bullying, Sae most likely would’ve continued until you cried to your mom about how mean Sae-chan was to you. But you would never do that. Your little crush on him would never allow you to get him into trouble.

Nii-chan! Don’t be too mean to Y/N. You’ll make her inner crybaby come out!

When Sae was especially cruel to you, Rin was always there to lift your spirits. He would tell you not to worry about his "meanie Nii-chan," take your hand and wipe your tears and snotty face, and lead you up to his room where you two could watch movies and play action figures away from his brother's taunts. Even if he could not take you away right away, for instance, if you three were at the park, he would always come and ride the swings or the big slides with you just to make you happy. Despite Sae’s every protest about how you were nothing more than a distraction to him, Rin, and football, you knew that your friendship was sincere and unbreakable.

As you three went through the ups and downs of childhood, you also weathered the storms of adolescence together. Sae left for Madrid, leaving you, Rin, and your previous feelings for his older brother behind to navigate the social awkwardness of junior high and share in each other's accomplishments while he was with his football team and you were at your respective clubs. Your friendship was a source of strength during those formative years, providing solace and understanding when the world seemed confusing.

As you two approached your high school years, something began to change. Accidental touches felt more like fleeting sparks, while innocent glances became lingering stares. Neither of you fully comprehended your newfound feelings, tiptoeing around the unsaid emotions that seemed to glimmer between the two of you until the day Rin asked you to be his just before entering Blue Lock. Now, for the past three years, you have been a happy couple, embarking on the dreaded hell of adulthood and the next chapter of your lives hand-in-hand.

Back in the present, the two of you were glad that Rin finally had some downtime from soccer—well . . . more so you than him. Even after the events of Blue Lock, he and Sae remained rivals, seizing any opportunity they could to humiliate each other on the field. That being said, Rin was almost always in the gym, meditating, doing yoga, or practicing his skills to pass the time. It was nice to be able to spend time together without the stress of his next upcoming game or press conference.

Because it was his mother's birthday weekend and all, she would, of course, invite her boys to come to stay with her and their father for the occasion, which included you too since you were Rin’s girlfriend. However, in the few days that you and Rin have already been at his childhood home, Sae had yet to arrive, and no one had heard from him since he texted his mother that he was on his way to the airport to depart. Regardless, the family was busy finalizing plans for their mother's big day. Mr. Itoshi was at the bakery finalizing the details for his wife's cake, Mrs. Itoshi was out for brunch with your mother, and Rin had gone for an afternoon jog because "staying cooped up all day will turn him into a lukewarm lard ass," in his words. As for you? You had just begun to rise, completing some housework in one of Rin’s old jerseys and washing the dishes on which you and Rin had just eaten a delicious breakfast.

After completing your tasks, you made your way back up the lavish stairs of their home with every intention of going back into Rin’s childhood room that you two were sharing for the weekend when you froze. Your gaze traveled to the opposite end of the hallway, to the closed door whose presence loomed in the distance—Sae’s room.

Memories from your childhood flashed back to you, of you watching him and Rin play all too violent and scary zombie video games, rewatching his matches, and, most begrudgingly, the numerous times he nudged your head with his foot and tousled your perfectly styled hair just to get a rise out of you.

Cringing internally at the past memories, you took a further step in the direction of Rin's room before hesitating once more.

It wouldn’t hurt to take a little peek inside Sae’s room, would it?

Despite your better judgment, you shuffled over the closed door and paused with your slender digits loosely encircling the handle. Your stomach churned and your heart thumped in your chest as your inner voice warned you not to enter another person's private space without their consent. But hold on—why were you getting anxious? Who was going to catch you when no one was at home? Turning the knob gently, the heavy oak door would give way with the tiniest of creaks, revealing a rather uninteresting-looking room. But given that Sae had rarely if ever, been home since junior high, it only made sense for it to be so plain. Aside from the plethora of trophies, medals, certificates, and framed photos that lined his dresser, what made it even more amusing was that those were only the leftovers from what could not fit in his trophy case beside his wooden dresser, which housed some of his youth team jerseys and junior trinkets.

You crept further into the cold room, wrapping your arms around yourself, and shuffled over to the plethora of awards from Sae's tireless efforts. As much as you weren’t fond of him, you had to admit that it was beyond admirable that a child was able to accomplish so much in so little time. He possessed a natural talent that professionals would kill for and others were envious of. Even though you were never interested in the sport, you envied him for being so naturally gifted at something he was passionate about.

“Some ‘monster genius’, huh?” You scoffed to yourself as your gaze fell on the last photo of Sae and Rin playing on the same team together before their relationship fell apart. Oh, how you miss those good old days of your youth.

“The fuck are you doing in here?”

Coming from behind you, an all too familiar voice startled you out of your reverie. Turning around, your wide eyes came to rest on Sae's form, which was motionless in the doorway, his stoic visage forever unamused, and his overnight shoulder bag resting by his feet.

When did he come in?

More notably, he’s . . . changed from the last time you’ve seen him since the U-20 vs. Blue Lock game three years ago. He was a bit taller, probably around 6’2” now. Because he was wearing a long-sleeved white compression shirt and gray sweatpants, you were able to see that his muscles were more defined than before, with every ridge and curve pronounced more vividly. His maroon locks had grown a bit longer, with his fringes now reaching slightly beyond his chiseled, clenched jaw, though his bangs remained forever lopsided and flipped back. And his turquoise eyes—had they gotten even sharper since the last time you'd seen them? The way they were glowering down at you, it was almost as though they were piercing right through your very soul.

“You deaf or something, you half-brained moron?”

Your eyes rolled exasperatedly into the back of your head as he rudely interrupted your thoughts. Only ten seconds after you reconnected, here he was spewing insults your way.

“Nice to see you too, Sae.” You grumbled sarcastically, internally dreading what this weekend would hold in store for the both of you.

In response, he hummed, remaining motionless in the doorway as his teal eyes bore into you with something unknown. The truth is, while you were distracted by his physical appearance, he was ogling you in the same manner. You had grown since the last time he’d seen you when you were back in high school. Your once innocent eyes now had a glint in them that could only be described as nubile; your once round cheeks had slimmed a bit to fit your maturing features; and your body . . . Damn, have you really grown over the years. You had developed a more feminine frame, with fuller thighs, widened hips, larger breasts, and a more prominent ass. You had developed into a truly breathtaking young woman, despite how much he hated to admit it.

“Almost thought you weren’t going to show at all.” You sighed, lazily checking your nails. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“I live here.” His voice was deadpan and monotone, yet it held an underlying hint of irritation. “All these years have passed since grade school, and you’re still as braindead as when you were a child.”

“And you’re just as much of an asshole as you used to be.”

You resisted the urge to sneer, not wanting to give him the satisfaction that he was getting under your skin, as you dropped your arms to your sides. When you made this motion, his brows would furrow, and he would cast a scrutinizing glare at your choice of clothing.

Talking to him was futile, and you did not want to be in this room any longer than necessary now that he was there. “Good to have you home, genius.” You spat sarcastically, attempting to push past him to exit the room, when all of a sudden his large hand would seize your bicep, halting your steps.

Your head snapped to him, your gaze a mixture of frustration and confusion as your lips parted to shout a rebuttal his way; however, upon seeing the blazing fire that had ignited in his eyes, you hesitated. His eyes narrowed to thin slits, like two fiery coals burning fiercely within his sockets. The intensity of his gaze was enough to send shivers down your spine, making you acutely aware of the gravity of his sudden wrath. His jaw clenched tightly, showing the strain of controlling his rage, and his brows furrowed, forming a menacing V-shape above his oculars.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” He seethed through clenched teeth, his voice deep and full of poorly contained malice.

You blinked. Your jaw dropped as you gawked at him, beyond perplexed. He had caught you so off guard that even you had to check what you were wearing to make sure you were not wearing anything objectionable. Nothing worth offending—fuzzy black pajama shorts that hugged your plush thighs, plain slippers, Rin's worn-out football jersey.

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, you coy little slut.”

That silenced you effectively. Your eyes enlarged—almost lamblike—and your pretty lips drew in a subtle gasp. Any previous spark that had been ignited within you had quickly diminished, choosing silence over tossing more gasoline onto Sae’s roaring flames.

It appeared as though his entire being was directing his wrath into his single, piercing gaze as every muscle in his face tightened with each passing second. His lips, which are typically flat or curved into an unamused frown, were now deep-set, corners tugging into an awful scowl.

“Why are you wearing that lukewarm loser’s jersey?” When you should be wearing mine?

Now it was your turn to be infuriated as he insulted your boyfriend—his brother—the same person he had thrown out like garbage all those years earlier. Your heart was pounding so loudly in your chest that you could hear your blood pumping in your ears.

“So I’m not allowed to wear my own boyfriend’s jersey now, fuckface?” His gaze faltered. “You going to call me names for that too, Sae? Pull my hair? Spit in my face? Huh?”

“*What did you just say?”

“I said are you going to—”

“No, you cow-titted bimbo. The first thing you said.” He leaned in closer to your face, his eyes owlish and unblinking since you opened your mouth. You could smell his minty breath from the gum he had been chewing wafting into your face, “Say it again.”

“I’m not allowed to wear my boyfriend’s jersey?” You repeated, confusion etching your tone.

“That.” He snarled, his voice elated in a sick way, as though he had just found out the answer to some legendary riddle.

The hand that had been gripping your bicep now violently jerked you to the side, shoving you into his door. Before you had time to react, he crowded your personal space as his forearm pressed against the wood above your head, allowing you to smell the faint scent of his expensive cologne. “When did that happen?”

The initial fire that fueled his rage now transformed into a different kind of heat, a simmering and bitter envy that gnawed at his insides. He found himself grappling with conflicting emotions - on the one hand, he was somewhat happy that his blockhead of a brother managed to get a girlfriend, but on the other hand, it was you. The same girl that he had been pining over since you were first introduced to him all those years ago. The same girl that he thought was prettiest when she pouted at him with fat tears in her eyes and pleaded with him to be nicer to her. The same girl that consumed his thoughts 24/7. The same girl that he jerked his cock to at night after seeing how her fat tits in that all too small jersey bounced every time she cheered for his brother at that stupid game against Blue Lock. The same girl that, on all of those lonely nights overseas, he wished that, instead of fucking his fist, he was pummeling himself deep in your sopping wet cunt. The same girl that he was about to ruin before his brother got home from his whereabouts.

“Before Blue Lock . . .” Your voice was hushed, barely above a whisper, as though you were afraid of awakening a savage beast.

Three years. Three fucking years, and no one told him?! Not his mother, not his father, not Rin, not your stupid little social media (that he may or may not have been stalking) where you posted pictures of cats, candid photos of your friends, or whatever the fuck you got at your local coffee shop that day—not even you.

His once-obvious fury and visceral expression subsided, simmering beneath the surface in a contained inferno that burned with a ferocity few could fathom. Despite the turmoil raging inside him, he remained eerily calm, his stoic facade masking the storm within.

His demeanor exuded a cold, steely resolve that sent shivers down your spine and, quite frankly, took your breath away. There was an ominous sense of stillness in his presence, as if the air itself dared not disturb the calmness he projected.

“. . . Do you love him?” He spoke in hushed tones, each word enunciated with precision and purpose. There was no need for loud outbursts; the intensity of his calmness alone was enough to make you cower beneath him.

You were dumbfounded by his question, powerless to respond, and yet the longer you remained silent, the more you could see the cracks in his facade begin to scorch through his surface.

“D-Don’t be stupid, Sae. Of course I do, he’s my—”

You would never be able to finish your statement quick enough before his hands were on you, meaty palms digging into your hair, blunt nails scratching against your scalp as he grabbed a visceral hold onto your roots. The searing pain and astonishment coursing through your frame had you shrieking—in what? You didn’t know. Fear? Agony? Guilt?

Using his grip on you as a lead, he would tug you forcefully out of your slippers and down the hall to somewhere unknown. He ignored your screams as the weight atop your head forced your sight to the ground, your manicured nails digging into his wrist and clawing in an attempt to be freed.

“S-Sae, I-I’m sorry! Please, let me go! You’re hurting me!”

He said nothing, his heavy and deliberate footsteps speaking for him before he paused a short distance later. He threw you forward carelessly with surprising strength, causing you to land painfully on the wooden floors in front of you, barely having time to brace yourself with your palms. You had no time to catch your breath, though, as he shuffled over to you with fast-paced footsteps. Looking up fretfully, you would see Sae towering over you, taking notice that you were now on the floor of Rin’s room just before his bed.

“Sae—”

“Sae! Sae! Don’t be stupid; I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He openly mocked you, his lip curled into the faintest of sneers as he glowered down at you in hatred. Although even you could see that there was a bit of hurt behind his cruel teal eyes, “All you do is flap those pretty fuckin’ lips of yours, never knowin’ when to shut your stupid little trap.”

He relished in the way your bottom lip trembled and your eyes grew glassy, the same way they used to all those years ago.

“Still a little crybaby too, I see. Don’t worry, baby, you’ll be sorry soon enough for leading me on all this time.” He grumbled, lunging for you again.

He snagged at your roots again, drawing a sob from your lips as he mercilessly dragged you to your feet. Releasing his grip on your hair, he instead chose to grab your jaw harshly in his palm, using his thumb and forefinger to squish your cheeks and pucker your lips so that he may smash his lips against your own. It was messy, sloppy, and full of passion and rage on Sae’s end. He smeared your gloss, claimed your brims, and forced his tongue into your pretty, pliant mouth, all with the intention of claiming you and your maw for his own—but you would never let him.

You belong to Rin! You were loyal to him! So then, why do Sae’s lips feel so damn good against your own right now? This was wrong. So, so wrong, and yet, why did you want more of him?

Your mind was cloudy. Your head was spinning. You couldn’t breathe. He was suffocating you. Your dainty fists beat at his beefy chest and shoulders, trying to get him to get off of you, but to no avail. Instead, he seized both of your wrists in the grasp of his other hand and squeezed painfully in a warning, forcing you to whine against his lips—a delightful sound that went straight to his hardening bulge that he shamelessly pressed against you, grinding sinfully against your hips.

When he finally pulled away from you, you clearly appeared dazed. Your eyes were half-lidded and glassy, yet you were silently pleading for him to give you more. Your plump lips had swollen from his being pressed so forcefully against your own, and a singular strand of saliva still connected your lips to his own—one which he would sinfully lick away with a salacious swipe of his tongue.

The hand he used to grab your face gently shook your head back and forth, his sadistic turquoise hues savoring your already fucked-out expression. “There’s the greedy bitch I know and love. Finally decided to show yourself, huh? What? You want more, hm? What about your little boyfriend, princess?”

“R-Rin . . . I love, Ri—” You were cut off when Sae’s expression flared, his hand releasing your face for naught but seconds before connecting with your cheek in a hard slap. You squealed from the impact, your head whipping to the side in shock, but you could not help but feel strangely aroused by the contact. He grabbed your cheeks in his palm once more and tightened his hold on your face, bringing you closer to him until you were nose to nose.

“Don’t lie to me, you little minx.” He snarled as he cut his eyes at you. “You don’t think I’ve noticed the way you’ve been looking at me after all these years, like you wanted me? Or that I haven’t overheard your stupid little conversations about how dreamy you think I am to your friends, huh? Or how about now, when you swear up and down that you love my loser little brother, when here you are already going stupid on me when I’ve barely even touched you?”

You clenched your eyes shut as hot, guilty tears rushed behind your lids. He’s right. You've wanted him—always have—but it was too late now. You were with Rin, and he was the love of your life. You could not possibly change that, could you?

“Just say it, Y/N.” He chided, his voice softer than it was before, yet it still held it’s cold, irritated undertone. “Say you want me, and I’ll make you feel better than that lukewarm little shit ever has.” He released your face and smoothed his thick digits over the top of your head, stopping only when he could rest his fingers beneath your chin and tilt your head to look up at him. Your gaze focused on him once more.

“ . . . I want you, Sae. B-But Rin . . . ”

Sae hushed you again, pressing his lips against yours. How badly he wanted that name to never again be uttered by your lovely tongue. When Sae pulled away again, there was the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“We’ll be quick, okay?” A lie. He was going to take his time fucking his brother’s name out of your memory. “He’ll never suspect a thing.”

Your apprehension was palpable, but ultimately you would succumb to sin and let desire and greed rule over logic and reason. You nodded, giving him the nonverbal go-ahead to stomp on the accelerator and never let up.

“Good girl.” He praised you, both hands abandoning your face to now grip at the collar of your shirt. In one swift motion, he ripped Rin’s jersey clean off of you from down the middle. “About time we got that shit off of you. The sight of it was makin’ me sick.” He spat as he tossed the tattered fabric over his shoulder.

You were not wearing a bra, so the violent motion had your breasts bouncing free after being momentarily released from their confines, allowing them to slap softly against the flesh of your rib cage—much to Sae’s viewing pleasure. You grew sheepish as he seemed to freeze, staring so brazenly at your bare breasts that you began to feel a bit self-conscious. Was something wrong? Did he not like them? Was he expecting more? Less?

In reality, the answer was none of the above. The midfielder swore under his breath as he shoved you back onto Rin's cozy comforter. He hastily climbed on top of you and used his body weight to pin you against the bed as his lustful hands began to grope and knead at your supple flesh, eliciting precious mewls with each delightful squeeze. His lips would latch onto one of your breasts as he dipped his head downward; the thumb and forefinger of his free hand would play with the other, teasing your nipples. His sharp teeth bit greedily over the delicate areola as his tongue flicked and laved over the hardening buds. The stimulation only served to heighten your arousal, as evidenced by the way you wailed his name like a sweet song meant only for his ears and how your thighs squeezed together from your excitement drooling from your folds.

This didn’t go unnoticed by Sae, who was busy alternating between pleasuring both of your breasts and growling under his breath, “Lewd fuckin’ body. S’all mine . . .” When he pulled away, there were visible marks left in his wake—light red splotches and indentations of hungry teeth imprinted on your skin.

He reached for the hem of his compression shirt and lifted it above his head, tossing it off to the side as he sat above you, staring lustfully down at you. He would manhandle you further after sliding off of your body. He pulled your shorts down in one motion, grabbed your thick thighs by the backs of your knees, and pushed them up towards your breasts. When he did, he couldn’t help but whistle, admiring how your puffy folds clung together and your inner thighs remained sticky from your translucent arousal.

“Has he ever made you wet like this?” Sae inquired, leering at you from between your thighs like a hungry lion with it’s eyes set predatorily on a helpless gazelle, to which your gaze would quickly avert. You and Rin had such a strong emotional bond that you never felt the need for frequent sex between you two. There were a few times, though, when Rin would fuck you after a winning game in a way that made you see stars, but those were always very far apart.

Your silence was all Sae needed for his answer. He crept back up onto you, chuckling sardonically as he held your thigh up with one hand, using his body to keep your other spread apart. He wanted to see all of your pretty expressions up close and personal when he ravished you. Swiping two of his fingers between your folds, the sudden motion caused your hips to jerk into his touch and you to keen with need.

Slowly, he inserted a single digit inside of you, hissing at how your walls selfishly gripped his fingers and eagerly tried to devour more of him. “Loosen up, will you, greedy slut?” He slapped your thigh with his other hand as your back arched with pleasure. “This tight pussy will never be able to take my cock at this rate.”

You tried to loosen up, you really did, but there was something so delicious—so tantilizing—about his thick, calloused fingers caressing your velvety walls that made you crave more of him. He continued to thrust his single digit inside of you, his teal oculars peering into your own with such intensity that it forced you to look away.

“Stop that.” His hand that grabbed the back of your knee slithered along your outer thigh until he could grasp your chin and force you to look back at him. “Eyes on me.” He ordered, to which you would nod dumbly amidst your pleasured mewls.

You felt the delightful stretch of another of his thick fingers pressing into your sopping cunt, thrusting in tandem with his previous one, as he leaned closer to you and his lips just barely touched your own.

“S-Sae, mmph, more, please, please, touch me more.” You begged, bringing a sinful smirk to the midfielder’s lips.

Unexpectedly, he would comply with your requests, pressing the pad of his thumb against your throbbing clit and rubbing quick, pleasurable cricles with his fingers as he arduously sought out that sweet, sweet spot inside of you. You could not help but start sobbing his name, his thick fingers filling you to the brim even though he had yet to stuff his cock into you. Each time he curled upward inside of you, his impeccable skill had you gasping for reprieve.

It was nothing like Rin’s. His fingers were slightly thinner than his brother’s, but they were a tad longer too, able to reach the deepest spots within you without even trying. Sae's immense precision and experience, which allowed him to know exactly where your sweetest spots lay within you, made up for his lack of length.

“ . . . Are you seriously thinking about him right now?”

You were startled out of your reverie by his curious tone and thinly veiled anger. You tried to focus on his hardened features through your daze, but you couldn’t. The knot in your tummy tightened, and you felt an enormous wave of pleasure wash over you. Something big was coming, and you could feel it reverberating all throughout your core.

“He could never make you feel this good, could he? Never get this pretty cunt this wet for him, hm?” All throughout his monologue, you could hear the sinful squelching of your juices soaking his palm, dripping down his wrist, and splattering onto the floor. You were a mess beneath him. He would abuse that rough patch just along your upper walls until your toes clung to the sheets in ecstasy.

“M’sorry, m’sorry!” You mewled, breath coming out in short, high-pitched pants as you writhed under him, his pace increasing as he felt your walls fluttering around his fingers.

“Who’s making a mess of you right now? Huh? Speak up, princess; let me hear you say it.”

“—You, Sae! You, you, you! Hah, please, I-I can’t . . . ! I-I’m gonna—”

“Do it. Cum on my fuckin’ fingers. Make a mess for me, pretty.”

You did just that. Your body went rigid for naught but a second before your back was arched into him, and your head tossed itself back into the pillows as a chorus of unabashed wails of your release erupted from your pretty, drooling lips. Your release was immense—loud—as a gushing of juices from your pussy thoroughly drenched the sheets, Sae’s sweatpants, his abs, and his entire forearm.

You squirted. For him. For the first time ever.

It was uncharacteristic how an almost feral grin twisted on Sae’s lips, his fingers removing from your sopping cunt to place a few well-directed slaps on your far too sensitive and overstimulated pussy.

“Atta’ fuckin’ girl. Can’t believe my baby brother was keeping such a sweet little succubus all to himself—selfish bastard.”

You couldn’t even hear him; your chest was rising and falling heavily as tears of pleasure ran down your cheeks (and thighs).

“Hey, hey. You still with me?” His tone was soft, his typically impassive visage now meeting your own with furrowed eyebrows and a tinge of concern behind his bright hues.

You nodded—it was all you could muster at this moment, but it was good enough for Sae. He brought his soaking hand to your parted lips, lightly tapping the digits on your plump flesh in a silent command for you to clean him off. He chuckled. Your lithe tongue and eager brims slurped, licked, and sucked your mess off of his thick fingers that were now shoved down your throat without you even needing to be told what to do.

“You wanna do that again for me? On my cock this time, pretty?”

You were exhausted, your body already aching beneath him, but you still craved more from him. Another meek nod was given, your dazed eyes meeting his only to utter around his fingers, words garbled from his fingers on your tongue, “Wantha’ squirth’ awound ya cahwk.”

That was all Sae needed to hear as he stepped off of the bed, making quick work to discard his soaked sweatpants and boxers into the growing pile of clothes at the base of the bed. His large hands grabbed your soft hips, tugging you toward him with ease as he flipped you onto your hands and knees. He let out a growl, his hand raising to smack your plump ass once, then twice, on both of your cheeks before taking big, greedy handfuls of your flesh into his ravenous palms. This was undoubtedly already his favorite thing about you.

Standing by the edge of the bed, Sae placed your body horizontally across the mattress with your head facing the door. With a forceful push of your face down into the sheets, your view of the room instantly became obscured. You craned your neck back, peering at Sae from over the arch of your back as he grabbed one of your fat cheeks in one hand and used his other to line his cock up with your entrance. He slapped his heavy cock against your folds, his blossoming mushroom tip connecting with your throbbing clit making you both keen with ecstasy.

He couldn’t wait any more. He needed to be inside of you. He entered your drooling cunt with a single, calculated push, and your fluttering walls were already trying to devour more of him in response to the intrusion. Sae groaned as his hips met the flesh of your ass once he was buried to the hilt inside of you. His head lulled back as he dug his blunt nails into your flesh.

For the past three years, this—this right here is exactly what he had been craving, yearning over, and lusting for—and now he had it. He nearly came from the feeling inside of you alone, though; he’d be damned if he let the fun stop there.

A steady pace was quickly established by the midfielder's hips, and his long, deliberate strokes were deep enough to feel in your tummy and cause your toes to curl up in pleasure. Having had such a powerful orgasm not even minutes earlier, you were still fairly sensitive; however, that only made things all the more enjoyable.

“O-Oh my god, y-your cock, it’s t-too much, I-I can’t—”

“Don’t tell me you can’t, you cock-loving slut.” He snapped at you, cutting your pleas short with a sharp thrust of his hips. The rhythmic plapping of your ass against his pelvis resonated off the walls of the bedroom, lewdly ringing in your own ears. “This is everything I—we’ve—been wanting for years. Don’t tell me that now, all of a sudden—” He paused, groaning deeply through gritted teeth as you clenched around him. “—That this pretty pussy can’t take anymore when you’re gripping me so desperately.”

“B-But Sae, i-it feels too good! Like I’m . . . I’m gonna make a mess again!” You whined.

He thought it was adorable that even in the most deplorable and deprived of acts, you still attempted to hold some semblance of modesty. Oh, how you were both far past that.

If anything, that just fueled his aggression. He used your words as justification to pummel your poor pussy harder and faster, putting both of his hands on your hips and lower back and pressing his weight against you to force you into an almost painful arch as his pelvis slammed into your ass. Your vision went blurry from his unforgiving pace, and your throat went raw from your cries and screams of pleasure.

“Who’s making you feel this good, huh?” He grunted in between thrusts, a hand raising to land a furious smack on your ass that caused you to mewl and your tiny fists to grip the sheets.

“Y-You, Sae! You are! Ngh, plea—”

“And who’s cock do you like better, huh, princess? Me or that lukewarm fuckface’s?”

You hesitated, but only for a millisecond, as you felt the blunt head of his cock caressing your sweet spot, pummeling into you over and over as your thighs began to shake, growing unable to hold yourself up from the stimulation. His thrusts faltered as his cock twitched inside of you. You figured he was close too.

“Yours, y-yours! Your cock feels so good, I-I’m gonna cum again! I’m ngh gonna cum all over your f-fuck-ing cock!”

He let out an almost animalistic groan, something between a chuckle and a feral snarl, “Yeah, princess? You really mean it?” He moved one of his hands to your hair, threading his fingers through it without yet pulling, almost as if he were waiting for your response.

Your response was almost instantaneous, and the adorable chorus of incoherent babbles and cries of "yes, yes, yes" left your head spinning. You had the sensation that you might pass out completely.

Your head was abruptly yanked out of the pillows, and your gaze was once again forced upward. Your eyes, albeit blurry and glassy, caught sight of the all-too-familiar figure standing in the doorway. Sweat dribbling from his forehead while dressed in a white windbreaker and sweatpants to protect himself from the elements during his jog, stood the one person who filled you with dread.

Rin.

He was back.

As your eyes locked onto the all-too-memorable teal ones boring into your own, your moans ceased. The logic and reason that you had previously dismissed for giving into your desires came flooding back. Guilt, which had been gnawing at the pit of your stomach, reared it’s ugly head once more.

He caught you.

With his brother.

The realization of your actions, the feeling of knowing that you hurt someone you cared deeply about and promised your life to, left you reeling. The enormity of the situation left you speechless and unable to respond.

As the shock slowly gave way to the depths of your despair, tears welled up in your eyes, this time of anguish. Your ability to control your emotions ran out, and you began to sob, letting the tears run down your cheeks. Each tear that ran free was weighed down by guilt and regret.

All the while, Sae never stopped thrusting behind you. Almost as if he remained unfazed by his brother’s—your boyfriend’s—sudden appearance.

“R-Rin—”

“—Save it.”

His initial shock, disbelief, and hurt gradually gave way to something else. He was angry, searing with anger as malice began to rise within him, a blaze of fury that threatened to consume him. Though he wasn’t looking at you, he was looking at . . . Sae?

“You told me you would wait until I got back, Nii-chan.”

The air left your lungs.

. . . What?

Using the grip from your hair, Sae pulled you back into him, pressing your body flush against his own as he craned your neck back into an awkward angle, forcing your gaze to meet his own. A dark and unsettling satisfaction crept into his expression, the corner of his lips tugging into a smirk. His eyes sparkled with a perverse delight, reveling in the twisted pleasure he derived from your adorably bewildered and anguished expression.

Your breath hitched.

Your mind raced for answers.

Sae’s gaze lazily tore from your own and to Rin's, who still remained in the doorway, the forward’s eyes sinfully burning into the way your breasts bounced sinfully from each of Sae’s now slow, agonizing thrusts.

"You know, little brother, it is not too late to join in on the fun."

if this gets enough attention, i may make a part two!

#blue lock smut #bllk smut #bllk imagines #bllk x reader #bllk x you #blue lock x reader #itoshi sae #sae itoshi #sae itoshi smut #rin itoshi #itoshi rin #itoshi sae smut #itoshi brothers #vampiiebitez #tw:dubcon #bllk headcanons #blue lock headcanons

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