#this would be the fresh teen content we all need

[drewlyyours]

WARNINGS AT WAVERLY ACADEMY FANCAST

ND #21 (w spoilers)

Corine Myers - Corinna Brown

Mel Corbalis - Tanya Reynolds

Leela Yadav - Charithra Chandran

Rachel and Kim Hubbard - Emma Myers

Izzy Romero - Mimi Keene

just lie through your teeth and you'll do fine

MHM, TRT, FIN, SSH, DOG, CAR, DDI, SHA, CUR, CLK, TRN, DAN, CRE, ICE, CRY, VEN, HAU

[madridfangirl]

A Weekend in Ibiza - Part 2

(Jude Bellingham blurb)

(Part 1, Part 3, Part 4)

2.6k words. Jude*female reader. Suggestive language.

A/n - When we don't get Jude holiday content, we make shit up

.............................................................................

The cold shower calmed your nerves and cleared your head. The fog lifted from the brain, replaced with fury. 

That fucker, that assholic fucker, really thought he could play you like this? Just waltz into your peaceful space & bend you to his will?

What a sad, little life he lived if that’s the kind of people he was surrounded with. 

Oh, you were gonna show him his place. Real good.

What you did next shocked you. But propriety had gone out of the window the moment he turned this into a battle of wits, dragging you in as an unwilling participant.

Jude was done with Round 2 & was lounging on the deck when he heard his spare phone buzz. He lazily felt around the surface for his waist bag, too blissed out to move. The naked woman lying half on top of him, feeding him grapes was a factor too.

What he saw made him rub his eyes & sit upright. The woman whined at the interruption, which he barely registered.

‘Naa I am busy. Going snorkelling with this one.’ 

Attached was the back image of a man. A big, well built, shirtless, heavily muscular, glossy skinned, wet man. A surfer’s body. 

‘And who is he?’

‘Met him on the beach just now. Said he wanted to show me a few things. Am gonna let him.’

That was a sucker punch to the gut that he didn’t see coming.

‘You are bluffing.’

‘Yeah? Want me to send you a pic after? Don’t think we’ll find a bed but a remote island maybe?’

He called you. Disconnected in the first ring. He called again. Same result.

‘Don’t do this. It’s not safe.’

‘I am a big girl, I can handle myself.’

‘What happened to the no casual sex policy?’

‘A girl can change her mind. CERTAINLY for a guy like that.’

‘Rubbish - he looks OLD.’

‘Word you are looking for is experienced. A MAN, not some little boy fresh out of his teens.’

‘Look, I’ll stop if you stop.’

‘Never asked you to stop. Never asked you for ANYTHING. Infact, I explicitly told you to go with the woman throwing herself at you.’

‘HE WONT KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH YOU.’

‘I’ll find out soon, won’t I? Hope he likes my new swimsuit.’

Jude resisted the urge to throw his phone in the water. The woman looked at him curiously as he paced around the deck.

Confrontation wasn’t helping his case, so he changed tact.

‘Listen, we got off on a non-ideal note. I can see that. But we can talk this through. I’ll come back right now, yeah? Just give me like 15 mins.’

‘1) The world does not revolve around you 2) Actions have consequences 3) Chris is waiting & I am going to him now. Will be MIA for a few hours. Bye.’

Jude called again. You didn’t pick up. He left one final, desperate message.

‘Please don’t do this. I am sorry. You can get back at me in other ways. Please.’

You smiled victoriously as you looked at his plea. Two please and a sorry in one sentence. Ergo, mission accomplished. Who knew a picture of Chris Hemsworth in your gallery would come in so handy one day. Oh, the benefits of thirsting.

Putting your phone on airplane mode (to let him stew further), you got under the covers, still in your bathrobe, and drifted off to a peaceful afternoon nap.

Complete contradiction to his state.

Jude was struggling to wrap his head around what just happened. And why it was bothering him so much. He stripped to his briefs and jumped in the cool, crystal blue water. To erase the images plaguing his mind. Of you in your swimsuit. Of you and that horny geriatric fucker.

At one point he even looked around the water, trying to look for the snorkelling spots. Then cursed himself for being reduced to that. 

The current was brisk, numbing him enough to think straight. All wasn’t lost. Not yet. He just needed to come up with a better move. A different move. Coz you were different, it had been well established. The rebuttal did bruise his ego, he admitted to himself, but he was still sure he wasn’t wrong in sensing your attraction. It just needed the right nudge to bring you to him.

He emerged from the water, enthused again, and the woman rushed to him, offering to help him de stress & unwind from whatever was bothering him. Jude was never gonna pass up on a quick head in the loo. As he thrusted into her mouth, he found himself wishing it to be you.

If only you had been that easy. But then, the chase won’t be as fun, the anticipation not as deep. Plus he was certain your affections couldn’t be gained from fame, money or expensive gifts. You’d probably throw them in his face if he attempted that. 

He wondered if things would be different if you knew who he was. That there was a different side to him too. An idea struck him then, right at the peak of his orgasm.

You woke up after 3 long blissful hours, stretching your limbs, still burrowed under the covers, and put your phone off airplane mode.

One message from him, from an hour ago.

‘Atleast tell me you are back safely.’

The change in tone did not go unnoticed and you figured this merited a response. 

‘Just got done. Exhausted. Gonna sleep it off now.’

Letting the innuendo hang in the air, you ordered your evening cappuccino & croissant, enjoying them in your private balcony overlooking the waters. And played your favourite music, as you watched the evening sun cast patterns in the sky. Splurging for this room was turning out to be a great decision after all.

Curiosity got the better of you then, and you succumbed to googling him, to know more about this ridiculous/ridiculously handsome creature.

When you looked, you prayed you hadn’t. The guy wasn’t just atrociously hot, but he was many other things. Damn good at his day job (excellence at work was your primary turn-on). Well spoken & articulate (wtf happened to him today then?). Wholesome with his family (your number 2 turn-on). Unbelievably amazing with kids (you could jump from the balcony right now with the number of boxes he was ticking). And just generally affable & affectionate to everyone around.

You scrolled & scrolled through countless reels, & wondered which was the real him. The dickhead he was this morning or this angelic creature loved by all & sundry? Everyone seemed to swear by him. Did you catch him on a bad day then? Or was this a carefully crafted public persona to fool the world?

You kept going back to that one video with kids, which was melting your insides. 

That, and another one with him being abrasive on the pitch, picking up fights. Some would have called it cocky, and it was, but it was also inexplicably hot? Knee-wobbling hot? It was the same cockiness he had this morning but that had put you off. This video, though, was making your head spin. Giving him a power you never wished for him to have over you. And his body, oh god that body, plus the way he carried that attitude. 

You quickly threw the phone away, hoping you weren’t in too deep already. Consciously reminding yourself what an entitled prick he had been and how furious it had made you.

Needing an immediate distraction, you called home & listened to your 4 year old nephew babble for a good 30 mins. And your mom telling you all the news from back home for another 30 mins. 

Dinner was the next distraction. You took your time in picking a delicacy, settled on paella, a glass of wine and put on a comfort movie on Netflix as you enjoyed your dinner in bed. For some reason, you were avoiding going outside.

It was 10 pm, the sun had finally set making it feel like night time. No more messages from him since the last one to check on you. Which was a good thing. Which is what you wanted. Right? 

Yes, of course. Finally you were rid of him. He must be out, doing something, or someone. Far far away from you.

A quick look at his Insta won’t hurt, would it? It would just confirm his whereabouts, so you can finally be at peace, away from him.

One new post. From 2 hours ago. Captioned ‘Making memories’. A bunch of pics from his day - sunbathing at the yacht, lunch with friends, frolicking in the water & sun-set. Carefully avoiding any hint of the women she knew were a part of his entourage. Just the guy friends made it to post, making you roll your eyes loudly.

When you reached the last pic though, you did a double take. For the second time today, the glass nearly dropped from your hands.

The pic had a glass of wine, and a tissue paper next to it. You could tell it was the same tissue they had used to exchange notes - it was in a blurred background, difficult to spot for others but you could make out your handwriting. And his.

Tagged to it was a song - Can’t we start over again.

You questioned your grip on reality as you read the lyrics of the song.

I know I’ve caused you pain.

Took you for granted.

I’ve been such a fool.

Can’t we start over again?

What the holy fuck was this? What in the name of god was he playing at?

Half-mad, half dazed, you quickly dialled his number. It rang & rang for eternity, he picked up on the last ring.

‘Missed me?’

It just hit you that you were hearing his voice for the first time. It was deeper & huskier than you had imagined. But you quickly regained control of the situation.

‘Are you mad? Are you totally completely mad?’

‘Saw the post, huh?’

‘Damn right I did. Seriously, what were you thinking? What if your horde of fans put two & two together? What if people start assembling here to inquire? God, what if people find that waiter? Jude, what did you do?’

You started to hyperventilate, pacing around the room.

‘Ok. Take a deep breath & listen to me, yeah? No one knows we are talking, not even my friends. The waiter I tipped handsomely to forget about what happened. The note is blurred, no one can make out what’s written other than you & me. All others will see is just a glass of wine on a holiday. And a reminiscing song which can be for anyone. Or maybe they’ll think I am drunk. There is zero way to trace it back to you. Heck, even I don’t know your name yet. So relax. I won’t compromise your privacy when you made it clear how important that was to you.’

His soothing voice, coupled with unassailable logic, calmed you instantly. You could almost laugh at how you had overreacted. Almost. You weren’t gonna tell him that.

‘Are you with me?’

‘Umm yeah, guess you are right.’

You could hear music blaring in the background. He must be out partying at some club when you rudely interrupted him. You were about to ask him to go back to what he was doing before he chimed in.

‘So, did you have fun today?’

You rolled your eyes at his roundabout attempt to ask what he really wanted to ask. Well, two can play this game.

‘Oh yeah. Great day, super relaxing, after a long time.’

‘Ended too quickly, no?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Well, if you were with me, no way we would be done in just 3 hours. No way you would be alone tonight, checking out another man online.’

He had just shown you how you were an amateur in the game he was a pro in. Honestly, you hadn’t even anticipated this line of thought. But clearly he had. In the same way he knew you would check him out online. Damn him, to the moon & back.

‘Told you he looked geriatric. Did he even…?’

‘Shut up. Shut the fuck up. Not another word on this.’

Your breath was laboured by now. What gave you solace was that his was ragged at the other end too. He wasn’t unaffected either. Both were silent for a bit. He broke it eventually. 

‘I meant what I said in the post. Shouldn’t have done what I did. Not to you. Wasn’t really thinking straight.’

‘Not to ANYONE.’

He had the good sense to stay quiet and not point out that it worked with others.

‘Yes. Can we get past it? I feel like I have been rejected enough for one day.’

You couldn’t stop yourself from chuckling, & he caught the shift in your mood.

‘Maybe.’

Now that was a window he didn’t think he was gonna get. And was extremely pleased with himself for getting here.

‘I’ll take that. Now, you know damn well I want you. And I know you are thinking about me too. Don’t start denying it, that wasn’t a question. Why are you fighting this, baby?’

Again he was cutting straight to the chase. This time though, it didn’t annoy you. It made you nervous, as you twisted & turned in your bed.

‘I told you why.’

You said softly, surprised at the tone of your voice.

‘Let me come over there & change your mind.’

‘I..I don’t know, Jude.’

He gripped a nearby pole harshly at the way his name sounded in your voice. 

‘Tell me, do I make you nervous?’

The accent was thicker now, making him even sexier. Making you bury your head in the pillow.

‘The situation makes me nervous.’

‘But me too?’

A pregnant pause. Then, a faint whisper.

‘Yes.’

‘I won’t do anything you aren’t ready for - trust me. Heck, knowing you, you’d probably kick me out naked if I try anything like that.’

You sighed into the pillow, and had no idea what these sounds were doing to him.

‘Aren’t you curious? Haven’t you pictured us together in bed, naked & wrapped around each other? Coz that’s all I have been doing since morning.’

‘Jude….please..’

‘Think of it as an adventure, yeah? A weekend in Ibiza that both of us would remember. We are wasting precious time, baby girl. Please, just please let me come to you right now & show you a good time.’

He had laid all his cards on the table, and waited for your response. Like it was judgement day.

You breathed heavily into the pillow, as you arrived at your decision.

‘Not tonight.’

‘WHAT?’

‘Not tonight.’

You could hear him breathe raggedly at the other end.

‘So, tomorrow then?’

‘I…don’t know, not yet.’

‘You are seriously gonna leave me hanging like this?’

‘I am sure you can find ways to distract & humour yourself in the meantime.’

More heavy breathing from him.

‘Are you a professional torturer of some kind? If not, you are in the wrong line.’

‘Thanks for the suggestion, I will think about it. Now, go back to your party.’

‘HANG ON. Are you for real?’

‘Very much. Now, be a good boy & let me think, yes? Bye, Jude.’

You blew a kiss into the phone & disconnected it, leaving him squirming & stunned at the other end.

................................................................................................

Hoping and praying this delivered the tension & takedown you all so vociferously wanted :))

There will be a Part 3 and I swear it will have smut 😂

Feel free to drop in your asks / suggestions for the next chapter - I moulded this chapter on the overwhelming sentiment in the asks :)

[yutaholic]

smells like teen spirit (M)

PAIRING: Jeno (NCT) + reader (female)

SUMMARY: Jeno keeps getting on your last nerve, but you still end up in his arms with your tongue down his throat.

WARNINGS: strong language; some drug use; explicit sexual content

NOTES: 8.6k words; this is part two of a rose and her thorns, but can be read as a standalone one-shot

Chicago, 1991

A tale as old as time. Sex, drugs, and rock and roll.

That was our life that summer. Some of us in different doses than the others.

You sat on the bed with your legs bent, resting the notebook against your thighs as you scribbled out another page of the band’s escapades.

Though there was a connection with Mark, we agreed to keep things simple for the rest of the summer. Nothing could be allowed to interfere with the band. God forbid we earned a reputation like Fleetwood Mac’s.

Unfortunately, this agreement caused some awkwardness and I handled that the way I always did - with distance. If Mark couldn’t help but complicate things, then I would do him a favor and give both of us the space we needed.

It felt like shit, but I was used to being the villain.

Turning the page, you kept writing in the eerie quiet of the van. Haechan was bouncing his leg up-and-down at a mile a minute, thoroughly annoyed by Jeno’s delay. Mark was dozing in his seat, trying not to fantasize about you and the fucking heaven between your thighs, but he couldn’t help but watch you jotting down your feelings, your grievances, your hopes and your dreams.

He prayed that he was part of the latter.

The silence broke when the van door opened loudly, followed by a disheveled Jeno stumbling inside. “Goddamn, I am getting so much pussy on this trip,” he huffed, running a hand through his overgrown and severely damaged blond hair.

“Jeno, I swear to god,” you barked, scratching out the compliment you had given him at the top of the page. “If you give me an STD this summer, I will set your drums on fire.”

“You would destroy my child?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

Jeno grumbled something under his breath about how you always rained on his parade of pussy and shut the doors. “Let’s get on the road,” he said irritably, shooing Haechan out of the driver’s seat and jerking the van in gear.

“We’ve been waiting for you, dumbass,” Haechan sniped. He’d been getting so annoyed and impatient he threatened to leave the bastard drummer behind and never look back. That bitch can walk, he’d declared moments before.

Mark stayed quiet in the passenger seat, sluggish with sleep. He looked to you again, watching you write in your journal and wondering what you were saying about him.

About all of them.

Jeno drove fast, but not a soul complained. The gig in Chicago was the most highly-anticipated of the trip.

The van hurtled down the highway, not stopping for several hours until you begged for a bathroom. After a quick gas station run, you put some fresh snacks into the cabinet and wrangled your hair into a bun on your head.

Jeno came in with a bag in hand and said, “I bought more condoms.”

“Good for you,” you deadpanned, wrinkling your nose.

“Although I heard Mark didn’t have to wear one,” Jeno added, tsking his tongue. “One of the few perks of being innocent and pure, I guess.”

Your voice was razor sharp. “Careful, Jeno.”

Both pleased and annoyed by your tone, Jeno asked roughly, “Did you at least remember to get your birth control?”

You wanted to shoot daggers into his face with your eyes, but refusing to afford him any looks was better. “Yeah. I got my Depo shot two days before we left.”

“How long does it last?”

“Three months.”

Jeno smiled wryly. “Well, isn’t that convenient.”

“That’s the whole point,” you mumbled. He was trying to get a reaction out of you, prodding at your buttons, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

There was a pause. “I’m ready when you are,” Jeno flirted, wiggling his brows at you.

“Who said I even wanna screw you?”

“You did. Many, many times.”

True, but no longer relevant. All things considered. You returned to your notebook and said, “That was before you became a penis petri dish of death and disease.”

“Ouch.”

My relationship with Jeno could best be described as rivalry. He never gave an inch and neither did I. It was my job to keep him humble.

And damn, what a full-time thankless job that was.

Jeno had been going out of his way to rile you up after your night with Mark. He couldn’t stand seeing you sulky. Mark’s pouting was beyond remedy, but yours could be managed with well-placed jabs.

He had you down to a science. Lighting a fire under your ass was all Jeno knew how to do. The more he prodded at you, the more flames escaped. And when you were angry, you couldn’t be sad.

Because there was nothing Jeno hated more than seeing you cry.

“Can you try to stay on beat this time?” Jeno chided, spinning a drumstick nimbly between his fingers.

Having been testing the microphone, you whipped around and snapped, “Fuck you, Jeno.”

An argument swiftly ensued, petty and heated. No surprises there. Mark and Haechan stood with their guitars and watched the back and forth with no end in sight, even as people poured into the club.

“Those two are going to kill each other,” Mark said under his breath.

Haechan scoffed. “Or make a ton of babies.”

Mark almost choked on the lump that shot into his throat.

You stomped over to Haechan, pointed at Jeno and said, “I can’t deal with this douche canoe anymore!”

To which Jeno shot back, “Just shut up and sing, ice crotch!”

Your eyes went wide with rage and you spun in Jeno’s direction, ready and willing to claw out his eyes. Haechan grabbed you by the arm and steered you back over to the microphone, officially sapped of all patience.

“In ten seconds, me and Mark are going to start playing,” he said hurriedly. “And both of you are going to look like losers if you’re not ready.”

You huffed a swear or two under your breath and gripped the microphone as Mark and Haechan got into position. Then you heard the tapping of drumsticks behind you followed by the roar of Mark’s electric guitar.

By the time the show was over, you were utterly exhausted. Between Haechan and Mark, your arms draped across their shoulders, the three of you sang tiredly along to one of your songs as the boys essentially dragged you down the hall toward the back door for some well-earned sleep.

Turning the corner, you saw Jeno with two beautiful blondes. You bristled with annoyance. They were giggling at every little thing he said like they were getting dick after, which you quickly realized was the case.

Not on my watch.

“Let it go,” Haechan said, but he knew it would make no difference.

Jeno did not deserve pussy after how badly he stressed you out. You wriggled out of Haechan and Mark’s arms and made a beeline for the drummer.

“Oh my god,” you said in a loud, obnoxious voice, greeting the girls as you cuddled up to Jeno and patted his chest. “You guys look so cute! But unfortunately, Jeno is only halfway through his chlamydia treatment.”

Wide-eyed, the girls looked at you in horror before sending vengeful expressions at Jeno, who set his jaw and bristled with anger.

You held your hand beside your mouth, pretending to whisper a secret, “Very contagious through bodily fluids.”

The pair of blondes scurried off. One of them gave Jeno the finger.

“I hate and despise you,” Jeno hissed, trudging down the corridor.

You were hot on his heels, ready to resume the argument from earlier. A moniker like Ice Crotch was not going to be forgotten. “Haven’t you had enough threesomes?”

“There’s no such thing as too many threesomes,” Jeno replied, heated. “And I’ve only had four.”

Haechan asked curiously, “You keep track?”

Jeno snorted. “Don’t you?”

“One is easy to remember. I wasn’t into it.”

Mark fell in line beside them and said, more so to himself, “I have questions.”

“I don’t,” you spoke up, backhanding Jeno’s burly arm to get his attention. “Jeno, you’ve got pussy brain and you fucked up the tempo.”

Jeno went quiet, which was the last thing you expected.

Everyone was tired and raw. We were a well-oiled machine, steaming ahead like a freight train, but with time, gears start to grind. When gears grind, they tear through flesh and bone.

I know my boys. It sounds cliche, and I agree, but I know them. We’ve been friends for so long and crossed hundreds of lines of intimacy reserved for soulmates. They can’t hide anything from me.

Especially the things they intentionally try to hide from me.

You knew you had struck a nerve, but you weren’t sure which one. You dug your heels in regardless, but you were miffed when Jeno said nothing and made for the door.

“Did he just storm off?” Mark questioned, equally bemused.

“He never does that,” Haechan said softly, turning to you.

You didn’t hesitate to stomp after him, and Mark and Haechan didn’t follow this time. When fire fought with fire, it was best to keep a distance to avoid getting burned.

The cold of Chicago’s night was bitter on your cheeks when you stepped outside and you pulled your jacket tightly round you. Jeno hadn’t jumped into the van yet. He was lingering in the lot, scraping his shoes across the asphalt as he puffed on a cigarette.

Closing the distance, you called, “The hell is going on with you?”

“Nothing,” he replied, avoiding your eyes and blowing out smoke.

“You’re out of sync and you’re acting weird.”

Jeno narrowed his eyes at you. “We were all out of sync tonight. Why am I the only one getting called out on it?”

As usual, no matter how angry he made you, your first instinct when things were too tense was to smooth his feathers. His surface was rough, but at his core, Jeno was tender. You brushed your hand down his arm and said sweetly, “Because you’re the rock…”

"We’re all built on," was going to be the end of that sentence. Unfortunately, I never got to say it.

Jeno cut you off. “I don’t want to be your rock,” he lashed out, hissing your name. “Don’t you feel pathetic leaning on me all the time?”

You recoiled like you’d been slapped and that was when you noticed his eyes. They didn’t belong to the Jeno you knew, but to the monster that stole his mind and would eventually give him back by morning.

Wrapping your arms around yourself in comfort, suddenly much colder than before, your breath pillared into the night like the smoke from his mouth when you whispered, “I didn’t. Until you said that.”

Jeno blinked, realizing too late that he’d hurt you.

That was the thing about me and Jeno. We both thought the other to be fearless and unbreakable, but also knew who we were at each other’s cores. I was his mirror image and he was mine. The broken kids; the kids that just wanted to be loved. The pair everyone knew to be demons, but never stopped to think how we became them.

The fallen angels.

Anger faded from his face in an instant. “I didn’t mean it,” Jeno started, flicking away the cigarette and reaching for you.

You stepped back, not wanting to be touched. “You’re at your most honest when you’re high, baby,” you said sternly, fixing him with a look that rooted Jeno in place. “Don’t lie to me now.”

Jeno swallowed the lump in his throat. How could you always see right through him?

You wiped the tear that spilled down your cheek and escaped into the van, your safe place, your little haven. Jeno ran a hand down his face and cursed, “Fuck,” for hitting you where it hurt.

The rest of the night was tense and awkward, only slacking when sleep took hold. Everyone was painfully exhausted. Chicago had exceeded expectations and pushed all limits. The show was insane. The energy was incredible. I would remember that performance for the rest of my life.

Me and the boys may have been a little out of sync, but each of us gave it our all. We left nothing on the floor and held nothing back.

Haechan curled around you in the bed, keeping you warm. You claimed the bed together more often than not. Mark slept like a vampire, on his back on the floor with his arms at his sides. It was the weirdest thing you’d ever seen, but it worked for him somehow. He slept like a baby, the whistle of his snores filling the van.

Jeno sat in the driver’s seat, looking up at the stars, exhaling the smoke from a joint. He was wide awake, couldn’t sleep. An unfortunate side-effect of the shit he took to get high. The marijuana wasn’t simmering him down as hoped. He’d probably stay up all night and sleep the day away.

Glancing over his shoulder, seeing your pretty face made him smile. You looked even cuter when you slept, but it was frustrating as hell.

No one else noticed he was high but you. Did you really know him that well?

Of course she does, Jeno thought. You were his better half. That’s how it worked. He could never escape you. There was a point of no return when it came to intimacy. Not so long ago, you and Jeno soared past that point. Two reckless teenagers, young and wild, that found all their highs and lows with each other.

Jeno propped his legs up on the dash and closed his eyes, watching the memories like a movie in his head. Mark shredded the electric as if his life was on the line; probably to vent his sexual frustration. Haechan was a whirlwind of energy despite playing that boring ass bass. And you, beautiful you… Mark wasn’t kidding when he said you were a god on stage.

Chicago delivered on the show, but not the after-party. Instead of drinking and fucking the night away, Jeno was in the stuffy van watching the stars go by when he wasn’t stealing glances of you. He wanted to be in your arms, needed you to kiss him and tell him everything would be okay.

You were the fix he craved most of all.

In the time it took him to blink, dawn broke. The sun shone across Jeno’s face. He lifted a hand, shielding his eyes. He grumbled a little and turned in the seat to get comfortable, cursing at the awkward angle his back was in.

Your hand touched his shoulder gently and Jeno lurched in surprise, peering up at you. He’d never looked so weary and drained, but you could see the animal was gone from his eyes. “You’ve been up all night?” Your voice rang with compassion, and Jeno felt utterly undeserving.

He nodded, his eyes fluttering closed, unable to keep them open any longer.

You tugged at him, getting Jeno to his feet and ushering him to the bed, where he basically collapsed onto the mattress. Mark and Haechan were up, crawling around in search of coffee like a pair of zombies. Meanwhile, you let Jeno situate and draped the blanket over him, tucking him in, and brushed some of his hair back from his face.

Jeno took your hand and laced his fingers through yours. “Tell me you love me,” he said in barely a whisper.

“I love you,” you replied without hesitation, bringing his hand to your lips and kissing his knuckles. You stayed propped over him, wanting to be close so you could be sure he finally drifted off. You left a chaste kiss on his brow and coaxed, “Go to sleep, baby.”

Mark turned away. It wasn’t jealousy he felt, just longing. Seeing you so gentle with someone you were viciously fighting with the night before made him want you more. No matter what was said and done, there was too much love in this cramped little van.

When Jeno’s breathing leveled out and his hand went slack in yours, you finally relaxed. You’d be damned if he went days without sleep. There wasn’t much you could do, but the boys had their limits and you did your best to make sure they weren’t crossed.

Without another word, you clambered into the driver’s seat and turned the key, driving out of the club parking lot and onto the main road. You found a shopping center where Mark and Haechan could run errands while Jeno was out, and you pulled in.

Jeno slept well into the afternoon, stirring when the smell of hot food filled the van. Haechan used some of the gig money to splurge on delicious Chinese takeout.

You pulled out a foldable table from behind the cabinet and stood it up on the floor. The four of you sat around it and ate in silence, stuffing your faces until your bellies were full. You and Haechan gabbed a little, but not much. Mark and Jeno didn’t mutter a single word, both of them stuck in their feelings.

A far cry from how they would be that night.

One last show in Chicago. You were back on the same stage as before. It was the first time the band would perform an additional night at a club.

Jeno and Mark were squabbling, which was a rare enough sight to see. The two generally didn’t like to fuck with each other. It always resulted in fists flying and both were surprisingly really good at scrapping.

You looked to Haechan and rolled your eyes. Your best friend was smiling, on the verge of a laugh.

“We’re doing the third set,” Jeno said firmly.

“She can’t,” Mark replied, anger rising. “Her voice is fried from last night. The third set could knock it out for weeks and we’ll have no singer.”

Jeno shrugged. “She can take it.”

You were thoroughly annoyed. “She’s standing right here,” you spoke up, folding your arms. The audacity they had. It made you bristle, because you knew it had nothing to do with your voice and had everything to do with your body.

“What do you want to do?” Mark asked, softening his voice for you.

Jeno cut in, “Don’t ask her. You have to push her.”

You shot him a nasty scowl. “Stop pushing me.”

“Or what?” He smirked.

You shivered with irritation crossing dangerously toward rage.

“I don’t think you can do the third set,” Jeno said, challenging you, his smirk deepening. “Prove me wrong.”

“I’m not falling for that reverse psychology bullshit.”

“Coward.”

A smug look washed over your face as you hissed, “Don’t you feel pathetic leaning on me?”

The smile fell off Jeno’s lips. “I said I was sorry.”

“Don’t bother. I don’t care,” you snapped, but you definitely cared. The wound was still fresh and stung.

Haechan tilted his head when you looked at him. He was always your anchor in the rough seas of Mark and the violent winds of Jeno. “I’m with you, whatever you choose,” he said.

If I ever walked off that stage, my boys would follow. No questions asked. They would follow me into hell and back. Though the four of us would probably just live there indefinitely.

You straightened your shoulders and your tone left no room for argument. “We’re doing the third set.”

Jeno beamed victoriously. Haechan nodded. Mark gave a look mixed between concern and awestruck.

You sang until you were spent; brutally, wholly, and everything in between. Your legs felt like jelly when you walked off stage and your chest ached, lungs taut. The adrenaline, like a performance-enhancing drug, had run its course and you were officially on empty.

It wasn’t unlike you to push yourself to the absolute limit. You loved the stage. You worshiped the power that surged from your voice when you sang into the mic. Pipes for days, Haechan always said.

The dressing room was a sight for sore eyes. You dropped heavily onto one of the sofas and let your head fall back, closing your eyes. Your throat felt like you’d swallowed razors.

“Try not to talk,” Haechan said, holding up his hand when you shot him an irritated look. “I’m not telling you to be quiet. I’m suggesting you let your voice rest.”

You nodded and sunk back into the sofa again.

Mark was vibrating, the energy of the show still pulsing through him. Brimming with energy (the excess turning into courage), he walked over to you and bent down, pressing a lingering kiss to your brow.

You smiled, knowing it was Mark without opening your eyes.

Jeno finally deigned to grace the rest of you with his presence, bursting into the dressing room and exclaiming, “Holy shit, you killed it!”

“And this is where you take all the credit,” you rasped, wincing at the sound of your own voice.

“I’ll wait till you go to bed and then I’ll take all the credit.”

You lifted your head and narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t you have some ass to chase?”

Jeno licked his lips. “Nah. I only got eyes for you right now.”

“Pluck them out for all I care.”

“You wanna fuck me so bad you look stupid.”

You waved him away, settling down and closing your eyes again, and wheezed, “Have fun with your hand.”

Haechan sat beside you, picking up your legs and draping them over his lap. “I’ve never seen you so mad at him.”

“He just doesn’t stop,” you huffed. “You know when to leave me alone. Mark never pushes my buttons. Jeno just keeps fucking digging.”

Haechan chuckled. “That’s all he knows how to do.”

“Whatever.” You shrugged, feigning indifference.

Mark suddenly asked, “Do you love him?”

You sighed. “I love all three of you. He’s definitely my least favorite though.”

Mark gleamed proudly at Jeno, who scowled back.

“So, if we were drowning, who would you save first?” Haechan asked mischievously.

“Mark. Obviously.”

Mark’s grin widened, while Haechan gasped and put a hand over his heart like it was the ultimate betrayal.

“You can swim,” you said, patting Haechan’s arm over your legs. You opened your eyes and gave Jeno a vicious sneer. “Jeno’s the only one drowning.”

Jeno’s lips squared into a frown.

“What’s that mean?” Mark asked curiously, but Haechan stayed silent. He knew.

“Leave it,” Jeno warned, darker than ever.

The three of you did. Unlike Jeno, you knew when to quit.

Some people did drugs. Others did rock music. A few did both.

The boys dispersed momentarily. You were relieved when the dressing room was empty, leaving you to your thoughts and the searing pain in your vocal chords. Rubbing at your eyes, smearing your makeup, you didn’t hear someone come back in as you muttered to yourself, “God, my throat fucking hurts.”

“It’s probably raw as shit,” Jeno said, making you jolt. And roll your eyes. He cleared his throat and switched his tone to add, “Speaking of raw…”

“No.”

“You let Mark in raw,” he whined loudly.

You cut him a glare. “I wouldn’t let you raw me if you were the last man on earth.”

Jeno pouted. “Ow.”

With a scoff, you decided to turn the tables on him. “Why are you so hard for me the past few days? I can’t even brush my teeth without you humping the air around me.”

There was no shame to be found in Jeno. “I haven’t had you in weeks,” he groaned.

Your lips parted in surprise. “You’ve had every other girl in the country.”

“It’s not the same.”

You stood and crept close to him, close enough to ghost your lips over his mouth. Jeno went boneless, every inch of him fixated to you and what you would do next. He wanted you so bad he couldn’t see straight. So, you decided to yank the metaphorical rug out from under him, sniping, “You’re pathetic.”

“Are you really going to hold that against me forever?” Jeno asked, tensing.

No. It was just easier to be mad at him. That was the only way I could have some defense against the power he had over me.

“I’ll make you a deal,” you said, sliding your hands over his shoulders and winding your fingers into his hair. “Answer one question for me and I’ll forgive you.”

Jeno was one more breath away from kissing you. He knew it was a trap. You were luring him in and he was happy to swallow the bait. “Fine,” he replied in a husky voice, eyes on your lips. “Ask your damn question.”

“What are you taking?”

“What do you mean?”

You hardened your gaze on him and tugged on his hair. “Don’t play that with me. I know better.”

Jeno studied you a moment. You would keep yanking this thread until it unraveled. He pushed, you pulled. The two of you could play tug-of-war with each other’s heartstrings forever. Jeno decided it was better to rip the bandage off and get it over with it.

He reached to the back pocket of his jeans, pulled out a bag, and handed it out to you.

You took a split-second look at the bag and your jaw dropped, your arms falling as you snatched it quickly. “Cocaine? Are you fucking kidding me, Jeno?”

Jeno stole the bag back in the time it took you to blink, returning it to the safety of his pocket. “We’re supposed to do drugs,” he defended, rather unconvincingly. “We’re rockstars.”

“We’re teenagers that just graduated high school with barely enough cash for fuel and chips!”

“How I spend my cut of the money is my business,” Jeno shot back.

“This isn’t about the money.” You folded your arms, scolding him like a mother would a child; oscillating between angry and worried. “You know how dangerous that shit is.”

Jeno shifted his approach too, ever your mirror. “It’s the only way I can perform, babe. If I don’t have it, I can’t focus and I get too nervous.”

You softened even more, like Jeno knew you would. “We can get you something else,” you said gently. “Something better. Safer.”

He scoffed. “With our gas and chips money?”

You sighed, accepting a temporary defeat, but you pressed, “You’re doing it to get high. Not to concentrate.”

Jeno went slack, equally defeated, and reached for your waist. “I’m just trying to have a good time. We know this won’t last. We’re going nowhere.”

You lowered your head. “I know.”

The summer was half over and we hadn’t been scouted. Hope was replaced with disappointment and eventually, disappointment would flip to resentment. We never put it into words, but it was like a cloud following us, day and night.

Jeno took your face in his hands and tipped your chin up until you met his eyes. “Let me have this summer,” he whispered sadly. “Mark got you. I got this.”

Something inside you broke a little.

Yes, when the summer was over, you were Mark’s.

But the summer wasn’t over.

Jeno smiled in surprise when he felt the warmth of your lips on his, but he didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you and deepen the kiss. Feeling the heat of your body against his was what he’d been craving, wanting you to burn him alive.

My first instinct always was to comfort him. I would chip away at myself and give him every piece if it meant he could use them to stitch his wounds.

Believe it or not, Jeno was my first love, but a first love at fifteen means nothing in the grand scheme of things. He was my first everything, but we just didn’t work. No matter how hard we tried. There was a mad and intense connection between us, inseverable, but in the confines of a relationship, we were wild animals forced together in a cage.

I know few will understand us. Hell, even I don’t understand how I could have so much passion and fire for someone that stretched me thin and forever kept me at the brink of insanity.

But I was beyond questioning it.

Jeno slipped his tongue in your mouth and you grabbed his hips, pulling him flush against you. His kisses were surpassing hungry and landing somewhere near ravenous. The intensity must have scared him, because Jeno suddenly parted from you and took a step back.

You rubbed your lips bashfully, not realizing you were panting until it was the only sound in the quiet dressing room. And Jeno was breathing just as heavily.

“What’s wrong?”

Jeno shook his head. “I want you so bad.”

You snickered. Here you were on a silver platter and he was the one that put distance between you.

Though you opened your mouth to say something snarky, Jeno spoke up, “But you’re going to leave me.”

Your heart sank. It dawned on you; this summer was the end to a lot of things. Youth was ending. The band was ending and with it, all of your dreams.

And the tie between me and Jeno would have to finally be severed so my life with Mark could start.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured. You didn’t want to think about Jeno and his broken heart. Or that the drugs you scolded him over were what he used to fill the void you left behind.

Jeno respected the hell out of you for having the strength to leave him. He never could walk away from you even though he knew it was for the best. You would spend your whole life trying to fix him while he would always use you as a crutch.

It wasn’t fair to either you or him.

“Mark is good for you,” Jeno said in barely a whisper, his eyes glistening.

You shook your head. “I don’t want to talk about Mark.”

Jeno swallowed the lump in his throat. Seeing his pain reflected back at him on your face was too much. “Get high with me.”

Your eyes went wide. “Why?”

“You’re my person,” he said, vulnerable. “The only one I’ve ever wanted to do it with.”

This was what you struggled to put into words - the hold this boy had on you. He was bottomless ocean depths.

“It’s always you and me. We do everything together,” Jeno continued, reaching for your hand and leaving a kiss on your knuckles.

You let him pull you back into his arms and asked, “What if I die?”

“I’ll bring you back,” he whispered, pressing a tender kiss to your brow that completely melted you.

“What if you die?”

“Let me go.”

Your eyes suddenly shone with the threat of tears. “Never.”

Jeno leaned into you, stealing a kiss from your lips. “Just this once, babe.”

You paused, thinking it over. Everything inside you screamed, “Yes!” Jeno never failed to bring this side out of you - the reckless, starved one that didn’t give a damn about consequences. You always feared if that was the real you, the true you. “Just this once,” you said quietly, closing your eyes as Jeno sealed his lips to yours again.

The idea of getting high reached out to you with gentle, caressing fingertips, promising to banish the pain and numb the hurt.

Tearing himself away from you once more, Jeno walked over to the door and locked it.

Yet another first time with Jeno to add to my list.

You were caught off-guard at how fast the high kicked in and never before had you noticed how tense your body was until it wasn’t anymore. Your mind was even lighter. There was no more torment. You could feel that it was there, but it didn’t ache any longer.

The sensation was indescribable. You were whole, perfect, immortal and invincible all at once.

And that was how you found yourself on the couch with Jeno, pawing at each other like animals in heat.

“Jeno?”

“I know.”

You sucked in a breath as he nipped at your neck and asked weakly, “Am I going crazy?”

“Babe,” he said, meeting your eyes with a smirk. “You been crazy.”

You laughed and the sound was music to Jeno’s ears, making his smile widen.

Time blurred together. It could have been the next day or the next year for all you cared. All you knew was this moment with Jeno and how it lasted a lifetime.

You sank deeper into the sofa beneath Jeno’s weight. Your thighs were hooked on his hips, hands roaming his taut, muscly back. Both your shirt and his tee were somewhere on the floor, along with your bra.

Jeno kept grinding into you, each movement rougher than the last. “Fuck,” he swore, lips brushing your ear. “I just know you’re getting so fucking wet right now.”

He wasn’t wrong.

A wanton noise of pleasure escaped you and Jeno ate it up. You were burning by a thousand degrees, it was almost painful. You had never craved someone’s body on such a primal level before.

With Mark, it was love, but this? This was lust running wild with abandon.

The doorknob wiggled. You didn’t hear it over the loud thumping in your ears and neither did Jeno, who was far too busy bruising your neck whilst he kneaded your breasts, pinching your nipples to make you squirm. Haechan didn’t need to try the knob again to know what was going on. He turned to Mark, who was coming down the hall, and led him away.

“They’re working out their issues. Let’s get the hell out of here,” he said hurriedly. Mark hesitated, but didn’t argue. He was none the wiser. With the way you and Jeno had been at each other’s throats, it never crossed his mind that you would fuck him.

Meanwhile, you were discovering new uncharted levels of arousal, undulating beneath Jeno, trying to match his movements, which were getting faster and harder. The drugs in your system made everything feel more intense, all-consuming. There was no tension, no insecurity, just instinct and pleasure.

Jeno was definitely waiting for you to give him the green light, and you were enjoying keeping it from him, but the throbbing between your legs was unbearable.

You planted your hands on his thick chest and pushed, making Jeno prop over you and look into your face. “Wanna fuck now?” you asked sheepishly.

His pupils dilated. “I thought you’d never ask.”

You whined when Jeno clambered off of you, standing next to the sofa and unfastening his pants. Before he drew them down his thighs, he pulled condoms from his pocket and dropped them on your lap.

“Two?” You snorted. “My lucky day.”

“One for each girl. You know, the ones you chased away from me.”

Licking your lips as his hard cock sprang into view, you grabbed him by the hips and purred, “I called first dibs on that dick years ago.”

Jeno chuckled, but his expression changed on a dime when you leaned in. He watched you drag your lips over his abs, kissing and nibbling along his happy trail. His breaths stuttered as he said, “Whenever you want it, it’s all yours.”

You peeked up at him hotly. “I want it now.”

While Jeno fitted himself with a condom, you shimmied out of your pants and underwear, and the moment they were on the floor, you turned onto your knees, braced yourself on the arm of the sofa, and arched your back, sticking your ass in the air.

He wouldn’t be able to resist it for a second.

“Fuck you,” Jeno hissed, getting into position behind you and raking his cock between your folds, gathering your slick from tip to base.

You wiggled your hips. Your brain was clouded with lust and drugs, and something purely hungry for Jeno. Like he was your favorite meal. “Gimme it,” you huffed, glancing over your shoulder. “What the fuck is taking so long?”

Jeno gave your ass a smack, making you squeak. “You need to calm down,” he chided with a grin, still sliding his length between your slit. He was so riled up his hips jerked against you involuntarily.

You reached between your legs, getting a hand around his dick and steering it into your aching pussy. Jeno let you, biting his lip and smirking at how goddamn horny you were for him.

The head of his cock pressed into your entrance and you grasped the arm of the sofa with both hands as Jeno began thrusting forward, working himself inside until he impaled you on every last inch of his girthy cock. You buried your face in the couch, biting down on the stressed leather.

Jeno gripped your waist tight and drew you to him until he was balls deep in your tight heat, feeling your walls stretch and flutter around his length. The drugs amplified everything about you; your warmth, your scent, your sounds. He barely noticed the condom at all.

When he drew back and shoved his cock back into your cunt, you lifted your head and cried, “Fuck!”

“You’re so wet,” Jeno growled, sinking in and out to hear your slick pussy welcoming him back.

You whimpered. “Fuck you and that big dick,” you mumbled, but you didn’t mean a word of it. You weren’t sure how much you could blame the drugs anymore. You wanted him to plow the living shit out of you until there was nothing left.

Jeno took that personally. As a challenge more than anything. He squeezed your waist in his hands and smacked his hips into your ass, driving his cock into your core and giving you something to really whine about.

It was all you could do not to scream as he took you for all you were worth. You fisted the couch in your hands until your knuckles ached and you threw yourself back to meet his strokes, a noise escaping on your hoarse throat with every rushed breath. Sex was a drug all its own. It just felt too damn good.

Jeno kept his hard pace, making sure he landed flush against your heat every time, and brushed his hands up your body to wrap them around your throat and tip your head back. “Yeah, that’s my good slut,” he taunted, the smack of his body colliding with yours getting louder. “She’s taking all that dick, huh?”

The sounds you made were humiliating, but they only made Jeno harder. His grip on your neck had you slack-jawed, your eyes winched closed. Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him!

It wasn’t fair that he had that kind of power over my body. With him, I felt desired and powerful, and between that - untainted. Unbroken. Jeno never saw me for the damaged goods that I was. To him, I was always perfect. He completed me. No matter how unhealthy it was, I wanted it.

I didn’t need drugs. Jeno’s love was my high.

“Don’t stop,” you choked out, his hands heavy on your strained vocal chords. “Don’t ever stop...”

Loving me. Though the words wouldn’t come, Jeno knew them.

“Never, baby,” Jeno said, releasing your throat in favor of your waist, draping himself over you and burying his face in your neck. His hands wandered your breasts as he plunged in as far as he could go and stopped, leaving a few scattered, reassuring kisses across your shoulders.

Your body trembled when he bottomed out, aching with need and overstimulation. You swallowed to wet your throat, panting for air, and asked, “Why are you…?”

“You’re so fucking high, baby,” Jeno crooned, touching you gently and affectionately. “Just trust me.”

He was right. You were high on drugs and his body. You were a nerve laid bare, every brush of his hands enough to make you shiver. Your body pulsated, like you were being dangled over the edge, the pressure becoming too much to bear.

You held yourself up on hands and knees, tortured by the fact he was no longer moving inside you, but his hands playing with your breasts and his lips on your neck had your attention. The stimulation was sending more shudders across your skin, making you lean into his touch as your core throbbed for him.

“Part of you will always be mine,” Jeno whispered into your neck. “I know you’ll pick him over me, but part of you will always miss me.”

You tensed with unshed tears and cried, “I know.”

“I need you to know it’s okay,” Jeno said, turning your head and kissing you with so much pain and pleasure it knocked the wind out of you.

You kissed him back, reaching up to thread your fingers into his hair. It was a cruel curse - to love someone so deeply that was bad for you.

Jeno broke the kiss and rocked gently into you, staying in deep and lilting his cock inside your walls, the head of him kissing your cervix. Normally, you would have pushed at his hips for some mercy, but the high made you impervious to pain.

Suddenly, he thrust in hard but slow, arching his hips. You staggered out a moan and reached out to steady yourself, almost knocked off balance by his strength.

He did it again and again.

Tears pricked at your eyes. Jeno was hitting you with those drawn-out, domineering strokes, making you feel every inch of him slam against your sweet spot. He may have agreed to never hold you choosing Mark over him against you, but he was going to give you one final reminder of how absolute his control of your body was.

“I’m coming,” you warned, his name a mantra on your tongue as you took all he had to give. You were grateful for the roar of music coming from the other side of the wall, drowning out your cries and Jeno’s moans.

Jeno fisted a hand in your hair while the other still tugged and rolled your nipples. He kept his pace, hips slapping into your ass at a perfect rhythm, knowing you were on the edge of orgasm with the way your walls clamped down on his cock.

“Fuck!” Another brutal thrust sent you into ecstasy. You shook and swore, trying to crawl away from him, but Jeno was on you, shoving you into the couch and riding out your high.

“Good girl,” Jeno hissed, watching you writhe beneath him. He went still and tipped his head back, letting out a tiny moan.

You blinked to clear your eyes. You could feel the bruises forming in your skin as Jeno pinned you to the couch. It only turned you on more. When you realized he was still hard, that he hadn’t come, you mumbled under your breath. He was supposed to finish with you.

Jeno’s eyes flickered. Another moan escaped him as you rolled your hips, desperate for friction. He drifted his hands to your hair, gathering it all in his fists.

You sat up and went to work, fucking him as best you could in your position. Despite the condom, your pussy wanted to milk every drop of cum out of his dick. Post-nut clarity hadn’t set in. Either the drugs or the orgasm made you even more feral for this dumb boy.

“Oh, fuck,” Jeno groaned, watching you throw it back, bouncing your ass on him, taking him like a fucking champ. His abs tightened as he tried not to pound the fuck out of you. Instead, he reeled his hand back and slapped your ass, goading you.

“Come for me, baby,” you said darkly, the room echoing with the loud, wet clap of your bodies meeting.

Jeno growled a low curse in this throat. Suddenly he was on the edge, driven by your command and that tight fucking cunt.

You shrieked in surprise when he flipped you over roughly, the sound devolving into a moan when he steered his cock back into your pussy, grabbed your waist, and drilled into you like he would never get the chance again.

He didn’t last long at that pace. Jeno threw his head back and came, one moan after another tumbling from his pretty mouth, each one more ragged than the last as he emptied himself into the condom.

You brushed your hands over his thighs and hips, whispering little nothings as he came, feeling him shake like a leaf as he buried himself inside you. Once Jeno settled down, you touched his chest and asked, “Holy shit. Are you okay?”

“I’m good,” he wheezed, voice cracking, all the air knocked out of him.

Biting your lip to fight a laugh, you failed to hide the smug grin taking over your face.

“Don’t,” Jeno said weakly, rubbing at his eyes.

“You just came so hard you cried,” you teased, pinching his nipple for good measure.

“Don’t make fun of me.”

Feeling him about to pull out, you reached for his waist and held him there, joking, “I will remember this, forever and ever, and I will bring it up every time you get on my nerves.”

“You’re the worst.” He sobered, leaning in close. “And you’re the best I've ever had.”

You smiled as he kissed you, sealing his words on your lips. Then you giggled as his mouth traveled over your chest, sucking on a nipple. Your buds were still stiff and Jeno couldn’t resist.

“I see how easy it is to get addicted,” you said when Jeno got up to discard the condom. “That shit is intense.”

“Told you.”

Sitting up, you ran your hands through your messy hair. You could only imagine how you looked; makeup smeared, glistening with sweat. “You know you have to stop,” you told him, making your voice gentle.

Jeno afforded you no looks. “Eventually.”

You were too tired to argue, sore and spent in the best ways. When Jeno returned to the couch, you welcomed him with open arms, pulling him close and steering him to lay his head on your naked chest. You stroked your fingers through his hair and over his broad shoulders, and whispered, “I’ll never let you die, Jeno.”

He stayed quiet.

“You’re not allowed to leave me.”

“Stalker.”

You snorted back a laugh. “You know what I mean.”

“I do.” Jeno lifted his head and nuzzled your cheek, teasing, “I just think it’s cute how obsessed you are with me.”

You kept touching him. His skin was just so hot beneath your fingertips, like caressing an open flame. “Are you really okay with dying?” you asked after a moment.

Jeno shrugged. “It’s unavoidable. I don’t see the point in sweating over it.” As he spoke, Jeno kissed at your neck slowly, curious if he could get you riled up again.

Your lashes fluttered and you shifted underneath him. Though he left you more than satisfied, the longer he kissed over your pulse and palmed your breasts, the quicker the ache in your core came back, ready to be filled up again.

Jeno reached down to cup your sex, running his finger over your swollen clit and swearing under his breath when he felt your soaked entrance, thinking how easily he could slide right back in and make you feel good. Both of you.

“If you died,” you stammered, struggling to form words as he touched you. “I don’t think I would ever smile again.”

Jeno was caught off-guard. He stopped pawing at you to look in your eyes, wondering if you realized just how heavy a thing that was to say. “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,” he told you innocently, kissing the corner of your mouth with affection.

It was the first time you’d seen him so serious. Not hiding behind his usual humor.

Jeno was surprised when you pushed him away and reached for your pants on the floor. He watched curiously as you rifled through your pocket and withdrew a balled-up piece of paper and handed it to him.

“For the memoir?”

You nodded, watching him unfurl the page, your heart thumping harshly in your chest. “Yeah, I’m constantly jotting stuff down.”

Jeno’s eyes drifted over your words.

I can’t stand him. He infuriates me. He makes me crazy. But Jeno is the one person that knows me - the good and the bad, and accepts them both.

I love my boys, but he’s the one I don’t think I could ever live without.

Jeno peered at you with glassy eyes, shining with tears. “Damn it,” he groaned, crashing his lips on yours.

As expected, you made use of that second condom.

Jeno hooked your legs in the crooks of his arms and thrust languidly, staring down at you. Your eyes never parted as he gave you release once more, knowing when the summer was over, he would never get to touch you again.

When all was said and done, the two of you slumped into opposite sides of the sofa, soaked with sweat. Once you caught your breath and Jeno returned from tossing the condom, it was your turn to clamber on top of him, using his chest as your pillow. You rested your head on his shoulder and traced senseless patterns over his collarbone with your fingertips.

Jeno said your name. “I want you to be happy. That’s all I want, but I know I can’t give it to you. I tried.”

You closed your eyes. It would keep the tears at bay. “I know.”

“I feel sorry for you, loving all three of us. It can’t be easy.”

“It’s what I was made for,” you said softly, tightening your arms around him, lest he fly away from you and never return.

Jeno changed subjects before it broke him. “I’ve never felt so self-aware of how it feels to be young. And how it doesn’t last long.”

You nodded slightly. “This time is precious.”

“I wouldn’t say precious. Definitely fun though.”

You snickered, relieved to hear his humor coming back, but a somber feeling rushed over you. “Do you think we’ll ever get tired of it?”

“Of what?”

“The performing, the fucking, and… the drugs.”

Jeno paused. “You mean each other.”

You sighed tersely. There was no hiding it from him.

My biggest fear was that my boys would hate me. That I would be a bitter reminder of what could have been, how close we were to our dreams before crash landing back on earth, broken and bruised forever from the fall.

Jeno brushed his fingers up and down your back, and kissed the top of your head. “I don’t think we’ll resent each other if this fails, babe,” he said in a low voice. Some things just aren’t meant to be, he thought sadly. Like you and me.

“If that happened, I think I would die,” you whimpered, burrowing your face in his chest.

“Don’t talk like that,” Jeno said, running his hand mischievously over your thigh. “But stop being so afraid of death. You’ll waste your life running from something that is going to catch you no matter what.”

You tipped your head back to kiss him. “I just know the devil dreads meeting us. We’ll steal his throne.”

Jeno kissed you back hotly. “Hell yeah. I can’t wait to fuck you on it.”

You laughed.

Hard to steal something that already belongs to you, Jeno.

Copyright 2020-2024 © yutaholic (formerly zenyukhei) All rights reserved do not copy or translate without my permission!

[intimidating-fettuccine]

I love ur teen reader content and since reqs are open, I’d like to ask if we could get Jeff, Liu and Ben being big brother figures to a teen reader who’s struggling with depression/taking care of themselves? I love ur blog and I hope you have a great timezone :p

I always love writing big brother content <3 I hope you also have a great timezone! I did combine Jeff and Liu since they themselves are brothers and they would definitely work together, I hope that's okay

Jeff/Liu:

The super protection squad. Jeff and Liu are very caring and understanding of both depression and not being able to take care of themselves sometimes, so they're honestly quite helpful as older brother figures for you. They sort of work as a tag team, where they alternate having one of them helping you with day to day things and the other one just spending time with you to try and cheer you up and do things with you to take your mind off of things. Jeff is the best at helping you care for yourself, as he's really good at cooking good food and making sure that you're eating it, he makes sure you're drinking water, he does his best to help you make sure you're showering (but if that is something that is a big struggle, he also helps with getting you cleaning wipes and making sure you're using them). He's used to not being able to take care of himself at certain periods, so he uses all of the various things that were helpful for him to try and be helpful with you. Liu is generally the best at being a comforting presence and getting a smile onto your face. He'll sit outside with you or go for walks when it's nice out so you can get fresh air, he'll watch things you enjoy with you so you can still enjoy those things, or he'll take you out to eat some yummy foods, and he always stops and gets ice cream with you because ice cream is awesome. Liu has a very comforting and calming presence, and it's hard to feel stressed when you're around him, he's very good at giving advice and helping you talk through things, so he makes a very good brother figure and is very helpful when you're going through things and need some help. It's funny to try and watch them both help you at the same time because Liu will intentionally tease Jeff the whole time and do the opposite of what Jeff says to make you laugh, and Jeff will play along at first but then they end up actually bickering which is even more humorous, and it always halts their disagreements when they finally get a laugh out of you. They both take very good care of you and do a lot to help get you out of any very big depressive ruts.

BEN:

BEN....... BEN is good at giving people advice and a comforting presence, helping them through depression, which is a little ironic in his mind because BEN's solutions to his own depression are to slap a lid on it and pretend it's not actually happening so he doesn't have to worry about it. With you, though, he tries his best. I know I mentioned that Jeff is pretty good at helping with cleanliness, but BEN is even better at it. With BEN's extreme fear of water, he struggles to take showers even when he isn't depressed, so he has mastered low-effort showers and cleanliness, and he's a very good help in that department, whether it's helpful tips for washing your hair or products that are best for when you just can't take a shower. If he can help you actually get into the shower, BEN will just chill in your phone and talk to you through it while you're in there so you don't have to be alone and it's easier for you to do things when you have his company. BEN is not good at cooking, but he is good at pestering others to cook for you, so you don't have to worry about not having food to eat, and he always makes sure you're drinking water and probably does silly little check ins to make sure you're drinking it by calling himself the water police or something. I can see him getting you a bunch of soft blankets and plushies so you can always be very comfortable if you're in a depression nest era, and he'll get you good snacks to keep on your dresser so if you just really can't get out of bed to eat you can have something right there to make sure you're eating something at all. He'll send you silly little memes and encouragements throughout the day when you're apart so he can try and cheer you up in any way, and he's good at keeping your mind off of anything that's been bugging you. He's also your best gamer buddy and will play games with you so you can spend time together and have something to look forward to every day. I feel like he'd make a Minecraft world with you so both of you can play it together and have a world to progress in every day so you're still able to feel like you're accomplishing things when it feels like you're unable to accomplish anything in real life. BEN is very good at looking out for you throughout the day and reminding you that you're still making improvements every single day.

[itsaship-literally]

It’s A Ship - Literally Revisited

As many of my long-time followers and friends know…

THIS BLOG supports the POTENTIAL FUTURE of Beetlejuice and Lydia.

In the past, I have written posts about WHY we ship Beej and Lyds, specifically here on this blog, when there are so many controversies. It needed to be cleared up many times because, with every new piece of media, there comes opposition, which is totally understandable if you are not used to supernatural or horror-themed romance tropes.

I am here to help break it down for all the new fans sitting back and trying to figure out the ship's where, what, why and whens.

Here we go!

Movie verse:

Many of us were young when we met Beetlejuice and Lydia for the first time. Some latched on to and related to a young Winona Ryder. It was a vibe, and while we are well aware that in real-life terms, a teen is not ready to be involved with a 600+ ghost (cuz that’s an option 🤣), we couldn't help but find the allure in the Living Meets Death dichotomy. As you will undoubtedly see, this is a running theme in the fandom.

We had countless reunion fics featuring an older Lydia (sometimes by years, sometimes by months) reconnecting with her villain/antagonist. Many were dark fic, some light and fluffy and some off the wall chaotic, while some crossed over into the MoToon verse (yes that is a thing)

So here we are, more than 30 years later, and our pair reunited legitimately on the big screen. It was beautiful and, without giving away any spoilers since this new piece of media is still fresh, it gives us more to play with because, let’s face it, he is not done haunting her.

With this movie universe, there is still potential for this ship to thrive. (And that’s not just because Winona and Michael are down. I still am in shock over their revelations)

Toon Verse:

Yet another oldie that many grew up on. This one is a hotbed for both friend-shipping and Relation-shipping.

Here, we have a long-term bond that can be wholesome, platonic, romantic, complicated, or, on occasion, dark and twisted.

Stories have ranged from childhood crushes to outright possessiveness. The fanart from cute fluff to… well… rule 34.

Lydia is young in this cartoon. We are aware of that and in any cartoon fandom, aging up is par for the course. It is expected (and preferred by many) that any stories of romance happen in circumstances outside of the toon cannon.

Age issues aside, we cannot deny that BJ adores her. The man has an entire shrine in his head, idolizing this twisted, weird girl that, once again, many older fans related to. He would do anything for her and has proved it many times. The chaotic dead man with no shits to give will give up freedom and wealth and go against his nature to make her happy.

How can we not find the potential for a future of these two goofballs?

Musical Verse:

This universe combined the goofiness of Toon with the antagonism of the movie—a nice combo that I and those we call MusicalBabes enjoy.

Regardless of what the cast believes or feels about the shipping subject, they are working with a pair of unseen, attention-starved, chaotic nut jobs—a compliment, not disparagement.

Beetlejuice and Lydia need each other. They were miserable before they met and would have continued to be so had they not entangled themselves in the other’s existence.

Living and the dead, once again, need each other to balance their lonliness.

Does musical verse have ship potential? Hell, yes, it does. (Also, this is the only piece of media where the wedding actually went through)

Just a few Common Tropes In This Ship: (there are so many more than this)

Mayfly/December Romance (also see: May/December and Age Gap)

Reincarnation Romance

Death and the Maiden (also see: Monster and the Maiden)

Beast and Beauty

Ugly Guy, Hot Wife

Boy meets Ghoul

Why the name Beetlebabes?

Read: Beetlebabes: A History

To find more ship related content use: Beetlejuice x Lydia, Betelyds (alt. Beetlyds), Beej and Lyds, Beetle and Babes, Beetz and Deetz (or more simply Beetz) are the original ship names. BeetleBabes, MovieBabes, ToonBabes and MusicalBabes are all relatively new.

This blog often uses Beetlebabes but it’s not a hard fast rule that it will be on every post.

The goal of Its A Ship - Literally...

I created this blog many years ago (around 2016) to collect all the goodness in the fandom. Memes, art, fics, fan theories. I picked up the ship names and used them as tags. Gathered as much as I could from Tumblr posts, in all universes, and tried so hard to stay neutral amidst the internal fandom drama. (give or take a few misteps, iykyk)

The only goal I have here is to collect and share and boost all universes. Movie, Toon and Musical, including the mini verses of MoToon and Graveyard Revue if I can find it.

I do this for fun, to destress and play internet magpie with shiny beetle stuff while I stuff everything into the queue.

Lots of love to you guys. And as always, please show love to your fan creators. Credit them and boost the signals. These creators do so much hard work.

- 🪲 - 🪲 - 🪲 - 🪲 - 🪲 -

Previous Posts Like This: Because It Needs to Be Said Yet Again (2017) | One More Time (2019)

[the-fiction-witch]

Little Duck

Media The Maze Runner

Character Newt

Couple Newt X Reader

Rating Smut AF!

I laid so very cosy and comfy in my sweet covers, the sound of the glade starting up for the day outside the little shed I called my room. I knew it would be time for work soon but I was just so comfy I couldn't bare to get up. I heard my door open and close and the familiar voice speak up

“Mornin’ Love, Time for work.” AHH newt the sweet blonde Brit that certainly works to my advantage.

Newt and I … let's say have an agreement, an unspoken agreement as it were. We had both been in the glade a good while and of course had grown in that time from little kids to mature teens. Well mostly mature anyway and of course being locked in a huge maze doesn't exactly stop the natural processes of puberty and hormones so we'd become… helpful to each other let's say.

I smiled and pushed my covers away a little sitting up as I wore only my loose oversized blue hoodie one side completely fallen off my shoulder, and my hair a mess from my sleep, I did a big yawn stretching my arms high and rubbing my little eyes as cute as I could, and of course he stood there at the end of my little mattress with his arms crossed over his chest staring like I was a fresh plate of bacon. I knew what I was doing all I needed is for his blonde butt to figure it out. Which didn't always come so easy this early.

“Good morning second in command, what's on the plan today?” I asked sweetly

“We have a few trees to cut down on the edge of the deadheads, some weeding, some inventory and then dinner” he explained

“Ohh I see. Do you think maybe I could skip the trees?”

“Why?”

“I'm just really sleepy newt. Yesterday took it out of me”

“You had a day off yesterday”

“Exactly now my body is so tried, you think I could stay in bed just an extra twenty minutes pretty please?” I whined moving my knees a little to open them more and tugging down my hoddie a little more

“You need to work little duck” he warns

“Please, just a little longer”

“We could maybe an arrangement?”

“Oh?”

“Hoodie off.” He demanded

So I pulled my hoodie throwing it onto my bed he smirked and crawled in with md sitting behind me and pressing his chest against my back before he grabbed my breasts he gave them a good firm squeeze before then jiggling them in his hands holding under them to feel their weight sitting and fondling my breasts for a good few minutes

“Ummm what a good little duck,” he cooed kissing my cheek of course by now my nipples were semi hard which he took as an Invitation to pinch them and tug on them to force them to harden “humm it is a little cold in here isn't it?”

“Very cold, you should warm me up”

“Ohh I will” he smirked twisting them and pinching them between his index finger and thumb moving his fingers back and forth hard and fast leaving me nowhere to escape arching my back and trying not to squeal from the pleasure it caused I moved my hand back to wrap in the strands of his blonde hair and pull him down to kiss my neck all while he chuckled amused at the idea all the other glade boys stare, talk and dream of My breasts and he got to play with them to his heart's content and his own amusement and torturing me one hand left however slipping down my stomach and between my legs to run his fingers across my lips “ohh what a wet little duck.” He cooed but I grabbed his wrist and forced his hand away

“You know the rules. You want more I get more” I whispered

“You'll get to cum isn't that enough for you?” He whispered back

“You want to touch this?” I asked moving his hand to my mound “then you have to pay up newt”

“Fine.” He snapped “you get half an hour meet me in the garden and we'll start the weeding” he says giving my breasts and good squeeze before he got up licking his fingers where he rubbed on my lips

“And if I'm late?”

“Don't be late. Or I'll spank my little duck so hard her pretty ass will be red a week. Got it?” he warns stroking my jaw and tapping my nose

“Yes newt” I giggled

“Alright, weeding half an hour” he remained before he left so I happily got my covers and got cosy for an extra half an hour rest.

Once I got up properly I got dressed into my bra, panties, hoodie and shorts doing up my shoes and heading out into the glade and off to the gardens where I found newt just starting in the weeding he saw me with a slight glare gave me my area to work on, so I started my work kneeling in the dirt to weed the plants humming to myself as I did. Until I felt a firm slap on my ass

“Your late” he said as he worked beside me

“You said thirty minutes”

“Yes thirty not fouty little duck” he glared

“I'm here now aren't I?” I smiled having to lean a little forward to pull a weed and he slapped my ass hard

“Deadheads. Now.” He demanded heading there himself so I pulled the weed and followed him, as soon as we were out of sight of the other boys he grabbed the small of My back and forced me over a fallen tree leaving me bent over at his mercy, “don't disobey the second in command little duck. I warned what would happen” he smirked using of the ties for the plants to tie my ankles together before he unbuttoned and janked my shorts down to my ankles “awww cute” he smirked snapping my panties before he pushed them higher leaving them tight to my pussy and leaving my ass cheeks exposed he gave them a squeeze first then a gentle sooth before he spanked me hard

“Uhhh!” I gasped

“Not a word.” He demanded so I silenced “humm that's a good little duck” he cooed but his spanking continued he made sure to change cheek often so by now both where red, sore, and ached with his every touch “you only have yourself to blame’ he cooed giving me a moment of resbite as he slid my panties to the side and slipped three of his long slender fingers inside moving them from tip to knuckle over and over driving me crazy my wetness dripping down his fingers and my legs “uhh a very soaked little duck” he growled I found grips in the tree trying desperately not to scream as my eyes rolled back from the building pleasure all while my ass still stung in pain he slipped them out licked them clean as he moved to grind his hard bulge against me making me ache for him but he spanked me again before he moved and licked my pussy from my clit to the bottom of my entrance “ummm shuck- I wanna eat you so bad little duck.” He growled licking my clit and around my entrance to toy with me “maybe I would if you got here in time” he smirked before he slipped his tounge inside me using it as he had his fingers moving in and out flicking the tip of his tounge as he did to pleasure me so much but before I could even moan he pulled back and bit my left ass cheek hard enough to leave his teeth there in my sore skin but not to draw blood or anything he stood and spread my ass as far as possible making it ache given how sore it was and he spat down letting it drip down onto my already soaked pussy “finish your weeding then we have inventory in the shed” he said spanking me again “you dare, be late again little duck.” He warns heading back to the gardens taking his tie with him but I giggled and looked over my shoulder at him spreading my legs a little more as I moved back from the tree and touched my toes leaving nothing me hidden

“Or else what?” I giggled standing back up acting as innocent as possible even with my pussy out and just tugging my hoodie down to hide my pussy a little bit

“Or I'll walk you through the whole glade with your shorts around your ankles and my bite mark on your ass” he smirked before he went back to the glade, I quickly fixed my shorts even if my ass was badly sore and I went back to work as everyone went on break.

I did my work and headed for the shed luckily I was there first so I slipped off my shorts and hoodie before I began the inventory work counting seeds and small starter cuttings and soon enough the door opened, closed and locked. He stood there hoodie around his waist licking his lips as he saw me “what a good little duck” he cooed “right here waiting for me” he smirked coming to kneel with me and grabbing my body hard “you just have to wear that for me don't you?”

“I thought you liked me to work comfortably”

“Yeah there's comfy and there's half naked?”

“Which would you rather?”

“We both know the answer to that little duck” he smirked biting his lip as his index finger slipped down the centre of my bra tugging it hard to pull my bra fro my tits

“Newt can't you do the inventory? My hands are tried from weeding”

“Are they now? Well you want something you better pay up?” He smirked

“Okay, against the shelf” I told him and he happily went and stood against the shelf so I crawled over making sure he got a good look at me before I stroked up his legs and unlaced his brown pants while he petted my hair, I pulled them down exposing his hard bulge in his washed out red boxers which I pulled down quickly too to reveal his hard erection desperate veins across his stuff shaft and his head egarly dripping precum I giggled and toyed with him batting him with my fingers and my nose sometimes pressing little tiny kisses to his shaft

“You may struggle at first little duck,”

“Why?”

“I've already cum today”

“Did you? When?” I giggled

“Not telling”

“Tell me newt, or I'll have to titty fuck it out of you”

“Umm yeah? That a promise little duck?’

“Tell me” I warn squeezing his base

“Fine! I skipped breakfast. After I just spent all morning in your room playing with those cute bloody tits your can't blame me for being too hard to go to work. So I skipped breakfast and got myself off in the bathroom”

“Naughty newtie” I giggled kitten licking his head

‘uhh! How could I not having my hands on those perk tits”

“I managed not to finger myself both in bed and after the deadheads”

“Well you have more restraint then I do. Plus you know you'll get to cum later you know I can't sleep without watching you squeal. I don't always get to cum”

“Well I'll make sure of it” I smiled taking him into my mouth and sucking gently moving my head up and down his shaft he grabbed my hair and threw his head back holding back his moans badly

“Uhhhh…. Uhhhh… uummm shuck!... Uuuughhhhh! Oh god yes! Uhhh harder little duck” he moaned but I ignored him instead cupping his balls massaging the to make his release easier “‘uhhhh harder! I need ya come on! I'm so close little duck, ummm bloody hell- uhhhh y/n please I'm on the edge little duck just a little harder!” He begs so I sucked hard and swirled my tongue around his head which was enough to too him over clamping his hand over his mouth as he moaned loudly gripping my hair tight as little spurts of his jizz tumbled onto my tounge filling my mouth. I swallowed everything pulling back to see just how much had covered his shaft even after I swallowed all that and I licked him clean

“So much, especially after you've already cum this morning” I giggled

“Well you treat me too good little duck. Get some clothes on I'll finish up.” He said fixing his clothes

“I thought you liked me like this?’ I pouted squishy my boobs together with my arms

“I like you to much like this that's the problem. You keep making me hard” he smirked

“Fine” I sighed getting my clothes back on. 

[cmdrfupa]

Chance Encounters

Part three of De Novo (Toji x Reader) All chapters as well as content warnings can be found here.

a/n: It's getting somewhere omg. This series is honestly a delight to write and I want to make sure I'm really taking my time in giving something good and worth a read. warning: Naoya AND Kenjaku mentioning (i know i know but we gotta make it juicy somehow.) Thank you for reading and I hope you're well!

"When a good man is hurt, all who would be called good must suffer with him." - Euripides

The early afternoon sun beamed down gently, glinting off the glass buildings and warming the concrete sidewalks of Tokyo. Pale pink sakura buds dot the trees along the streets, some just beginning to bloom, while the breeze rustles through them with a hint of freshness.

  Toji made his way to the stadium and wasted no time finding a space that was sat off to the side, his frame hunched slightly forward, elbows resting on his knees as he watched Megumi jog out onto the field and greet the visiting team.

  He kept it as low key as possible: plain long sleeve shirt, dark wash jeans and his usual boots. He dawned a baseball cap with the brim low, shadowing over his dark features with it pulled so low.

He was succeeding at keeping a low profile, as he promised to Megumi, but Gojo plopped down next to him, making any hope of blending in vanish.

  “You made it!” Gojo grinned as he leaned back casually, one arm draped over the back of the seat behind him.

“He told me not to make myself visible. Don't think this is a good idea.”

“Nah, hes just being an angsty kid, I'm glad you made it.”

  Gojo waved out to Megumi who swiftly ignored him and gave a halfhearted nod when his eyes made it to Toji.

The arrangement was strange. A man Toji was once hired to kill and ended up getting his ass handed to him was raising his child. But it was probably the safest and most consistent housing arrangement for Megumi since he was 7.

He knew his father worked often but didn’t understand why he had to live with his “uncle”. He remembered little of him and was even told little about Toji until he met him at age twelve when his stepsister was more happy to see the man than Megumi was. But it was better than never knowing Megumi in Toji’s eyes.

  “Man you’re quiet today. No snark? No wisecracks? Who are you, and what have you done with the real Toji Fushiguro?”

  Toji snorted softly, shaking his head. ‘I’m here, aren’t I? I don’t have to banter with a grown ass brat.”

  Gojo cheesed at his retort before pulling out a pack of gum, immediately putting 4 pieces in his mouth.

  “I've got a local gig right now.”

  “Do I need to get Megs out of the city?” Gojo looked out to the field, Megumi swinging his bat awaiting his call up.

  “For now I think its fine.” Toji looked down at his hands then out at the field once Megumi was called up. Both he and Gojo clapped as the unamused teen walked on with his head down.

  “I’m only mentioning it because it involves someone you know.”

  “Oh? A scorned ex? Utahime? Oh fuck, please tell me its Utahime!”

Toji side eyed Gojo and leaned forward onto his knees.

  “Striiike one!” The umpire yelled.

  “your friends brother, Kenjaku.”

it was hard to miss the way Gojo’s teeth were grinding as he practically rubbed the fabric loose on his trousers. “Same old shit?”

“Yeah. Just worse.”

  “Striiike two!”

  The unspoken details said everything. Kenjaku was the only thing that was a stain to literally anyone he’d come across. A morally corrupt man whose only real goal was to elevate himself at every turn.

  The crack of the bat connecting with the ball echoed across the field, and both men turned their attention back to the game. Megumi took off running, his legs carrying him to past first base as he rounded the diamond with a speed that drew cheers from the crowd.

  Toji stood up, clapping with a boom and whistling simultaneously as Gojo gave a warrior yell. “Nice Megs! Thats my boy!”

  The crowd cheered as he gave a few fist bumps and trotted back to home base then to the dugout.

“Kid’s got good instincts,” Gojo remarked, a hint of pride in his tone.

Toji nodded slightly, his expression softening just enough that someone paying close attention might notice. “Yeah. He does.”

  The name Kenjaku hung in the air between them, heavy despite the lightness of the atmosphere. Gojo let out a low whistle, his sunglasses slipping slightly down his nose as he turned to fully face Toji.

  “I’ll be going as Zen'in just to make it all easier. No ties to Megs or anything. Just want a clean slate after this one and I want the boy to not have to deal with any fallout if there is any.”

  “You gonna be alright? Suguru hadn’t mentioned him being back in town so now even I feel like I’m being left in the dark here.”

  Toji’s lips twitched, the faintest ghost of a smirk. “It’s a job. I’ve handled worse.” He finagled the pack of gum from the breast pocket of Gojo’s shirt and tossed a piece into his mouth. “I'll be getting a job in Getos’ club so you can give him a heads up at least. I don’t know if you want to tell him I’m investigating his brother or not. Your call.”

  Gojo blew a small bubble and popped it a few times before sliding his glasses back up. “Need a place to hideout? I have that old condo down in Yokohama if you want to lay low?”

  “Are you pitying me? Don't need that.” Toji gruffed.

  Gojo shook his head and sighed. “I don’t do pity, Fushiguro. You know that.” Gojo rubbed his hand across the nape of his neck and sat up. “But you’re my favorite broke ass and you should at least be comfortable and out of the city enough during this. Megs is a shared responsibility and I just want his dad in a good space.”

  Toji wasn’t good at whatever this is. A man he was once sent to kill now the guardian of his only child and now offering him a better place to stay than the box he was going to rent out above some random shop. He let out a low chuckle and nodded. “I’ll take your offer, I appreciate it.”

  Gojo hummed before a thought came to mind. “Fushiguro,” Gojo said after a while, his voice lighter now. “You ever think about hanging it up? You know, all the cloak-and-dagger stuff. Maybe stick around a little longer?”

Toji’s jaw tightened slightly, but his tone was calm when he replied. “That was my plan til it wasn’t. Not my style.”

Gojo shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “Figured you’d say that. Guess it’s a good thing the kid’s got me to keep him balanced, huh?”

Toji didn’t answer, but the faintest flicker of amusement crossed his face before he turned back to the field. As the game continued, Gojo stayed beside him, the two men watching in silence, bound by their shared purpose: keeping Megumi safe, no matter what it took.

The club felt almost unrecognizable during the day. Without the dim lights and buzzing energy of the night, the space seemed quieter, more subdued. The faint smell of cleaning supplies lingered in the air, mixing with the distant hum of the sound system being tested. A handful of staff members, yourself included, had gathered near the bar for the midday meeting Suguru had called.

You weren’t sure why you were all here—usually, daytime meetings only happened when something big was changing. Maybe there was a new policy, or maybe someone had finally pushed Suguru too far. Either way, you were curious.

“All right, everyone,” Suguru began, his voice smooth as always. “Thanks for dragging yourselves out of bed for this. I know most of you would rather still be asleep.”

A few chuckles rippled through the group, but you stayed quiet, your gaze fixed on Suguru as he continued.

“This isn’t our usual meeting. I wanted to make sure that everyone was made aware of some changes I will be implementing,” he spoke calmly, a slight sternness with each word. “They aren’t major changes but enough that I decided it was time to bring in people who can help us expand but also reinforcements to better protect our staff.”

Suguru crossed his legs as he situated himself in the clothed chair on stage.

Ever the elusive chameleon, he was a great boss. He assured you that every entertainers concerns were going to be taken seriously always from the very beginning.

His long, raven hair sat in a loose bun at the back of his head as he tucked away a few strands from his face.

“As you all know, last week we had potential investors in the crowd coming in to see the best of Tantra. And I'm excited to say you all delivered.” the good news started a quiet wave of murmurs amongst the employees.

“Your hips did all of this.” Shoko nudged you and winked. “Your carimbo just secured us a new green room.”

You chuckled into your sleeve and shook your head. “I’m a small part of the reason. Those drinks you poor heavily into are definitely the reason.”

“Mm. You’re welcome.” you both snickered as the sound of the heavy metal doors from back stage silenced the room.

Two sets of footsteps were seemingly making their way to the front and Suguru continued. “There will be two new faces you'll be seeing around. The first being part of renovations, contract revisions and foreign talent we take in, so please welcome Kenjaku; our new resource and development liaison.”

On cue, a tall, long haired figure, similar to Suguru, walked from behind the curtains and rose his head, showing off the most unsettling, robotic smile you’d ever seen. “Little brother, its so good to be working together again.” He spoke slowly, words felt like they were dripping with falsities as he squeezed Suguru’s shoulder. The large facial tattoos he dawned made him look like Frankenstein's rejected first born. They were bold, distinct. You’d never miss him and that felt like the point.

You didn’t miss the way Suguru flinched at the contact, the sound of his own brothers voice. He seemed uninterested, disturbed even, at how he was being so chummy. “Glad to have you on board.” his tone was flat, dry.

“Now, a more serious topic. We’ve had a few issues lately,” he said, his tone turning just a touch more serious. “Nothing major, but customers who feel entitled and rude boyfriends. I decided it was time to bring in some… reinforcements. Someone who can keep things running smoothly and handle any problems before they get out of hand.”

You tilted your head slightly, curious. Reinforcement? Did he mean more security?

“And by problems,” Shoko chimed in, her tone dry as she swirled her coffee, “he means the idiots who think this is the kind of place where they can get grabby with the staff.”

A few groans of agreement came from the group, and Suguru smirked, nodding. “Exactly. Which is why I’d like you all to meet the new head of security. He will be working closely with our entertainers to ensure your safety during work hours as well as helping with private security when you have small parties, one on one dances, etcetera. Mr. Zen'in?”

the heavy footsteps seemed to make you a bit more excited at the new face. As he came from behind the curtains, that familiar scar over the lips made your eyes widen. “Zen'in?” you whispered. “he told me Fushiguro.”

Your heart skipped a beat as he walked toward the group, his broad shoulders and calm, commanding presence impossible to ignore. He wore a dark button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his usual air of casual confidence somehow even more pronounced in the stark light of day.

You blinked, trying to process what you were seeing. What the hell was he doing here?

“This is Toji Zen'in,” Suguru said, motioning toward him with a grin. “He’ll be keeping an eye on things from the inside to ensure everyone's’ safety and that patrons are behaving. He’s friendlier than he looks so please feel free to introduce yourself when you see him around.”

Toji’s gaze swept across the group, lingering on you for just a moment before moving on. His expression was unreadable, calm but with that same quiet intensity that always seemed to surround him at the diner.

You felt Shoko shift beside you, her coffee cup lowered as she poured a shot of whiskey in it. “Well, well,” she muttered, her tone laced with delight. “Didn’t expect to see him here.”

You turned to her, your brow furrowing. “You know him?”

Shoko raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh, yeah. The Zen’in clan. Taught one of their kids, heard of em mostly though. He and Suguru have a bit of a friendly history.”

Your stomach dropped.

“That doesn’t make sense,” you said quietly, your voice almost drowned out by the murmurs of the other staff members. “He told me his name was Fushiguro.”

Shoko glanced at you, clearly amused by your reaction. “Yeah, he took his wife’s name after he had a falling out with his family. Big drama. Old money in politics, high society, the whole nine yards. Stripped him of the Zen’in name and the power that came with it.” She tilted her head, her smirk widening. “Though, I gotta say, it’s interesting that he’s using it again now.”

The pieces of the puzzle that had been floating in your mind since that day in the diner were slowly clicking into place. His guarded nature, the way he always seemed to avoid personal questions, the intensity in his gaze—it all made sense now. You too would hide yourself if you are part of a powerful clan.

But that didn’t explain why he was here.

You barely heard her explanation, your gaze locked on Toji as he exchanged a few words with some of the security team and a few ladies on stage before stepping down. His movements were deliberate, fluid, as if he knew exactly how much space he took up exactly. You felt a tightness in your chest, a mix of confusion and something else you couldn’t quite place. Anger? Betrayal? Or maybe just the overwhelming weight of trying to reconcile the quiet, brooding man from the diner with this—to put it lightly— A Zen’in.

“He’s full of surprises, huh?” Shoko added, lighting a cigarette and blowing out in the opposite direction from you. She sounded almost entertained by how you were processing this.

Before you could respond, Toji’s eyes flicked across the room, and landed on you. His gaze was sharp, unreadable, but there was a flicker of something beneath it. Recognition? Acknowledgment? Whatever it was, it sent a chill down your spine.

And then, as if sensing the weight of your stare, he made his way toward you.

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening as he approached. He stopped just a few feet away, his expression calm, his hands in his pockets. For a moment, neither of you said anything, the air between you charged with unspoken tension.

“You seem surprised,” he said finally, his voice low and smooth, carrying just enough weight to make you feel off-balance.

“I am,” you replied, keeping your tone steady. “Didn’t know you were looking for a job. And Zen’in? That’s not the name you gave me.”

He tilted his head slightly, his lips twitching into a faint simper. “Didn’t think it mattered.”

“Didn’t think it mattered?” you echoed, a spark of frustration slipping into your voice. “You lied.”

He shrugged, his gaze never wavering. “Not a lie. Just didn’t tell you everything. Not exactly your business to know everything, either.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Shoko cut in before you could.

“Alright, you two, let’s save the drama for later,” she said, her tone dry but laced with amusement. “Don’t want to scare off the rest of the staff on his first night.”

Toji’s smirk widened slightly, though his eyes remained locked on yours. “Guess we’ll have to talk later,” he said, his tone almost teasing, before winking and walking past you, leaving you with a mess of questions and emotions swirling in his wake.

Shoko leaned closer, nudging you with her elbow. “Careful with that one,” she said, her voice quiet enough that only you could hear. “He’s more trouble than you think.”

You glanced back toward Toji, who was now standing with Suguru and one of the bartenders near the front doors, his broad shoulders and imposing presence making him impossible to ignore. Shoko’s words lingered in your mind, but something about him—something beyond the name, the reputation, or the secrets—pulled at you in a way you couldn’t explain.

And that, more than anything else, left you unsettled.

Crude. Disgusting, fully outside of who he has been for years now.

The car was parked just down the street from the club, engine off, the silence inside broken only by the faint busyness of passing traffic. Toji sat in the driver’s seat, one arm draped over the steering wheel, his jaw tight as he stared out the windshield.

He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there, the meeting replaying over and over in his head like some kind of punishment.

Crude, rude, disgusting behavior.

He clenched his fist, the leather of the steering wheel creaking faintly under the pressure. He’d handled it like he needed to—cold, detached, playing the role of the unapproachable bastard because that’s what worked. That’s what kept people at arm’s length, made them think twice about digging into his business or asking too many questions.

But with you?

With you, it felt like he needed be unguarded. And it was pissing him off.

He could still see the look on your face when Suguru introduced him, that flash of confusion and hurt when you heard the name Zen’in, like a puzzle piece had been forced into place and left you wondering what else about him was a lie. And then the way you looked at him during the meeting, your gaze sharp, like you were waiting for him to explain himself, to tell you why the man sitting in that room felt so far removed from the one you’d known before.

He’d played the part perfectly. Just enough of an edge in his tone to make it clear that he wasn’t interested in small talk. And for the most part, it worked. You’d barely said anything to him after the meeting, and when you did, it was short, clipped, like you were keeping yourself in check.

Exactly what I wanted, he thought bitterly, his teeth grinding together.

And yet, the memory of your expression stuck with him, digging into his chest like a splinter he couldn’t pull free.

“I can’t fucking do this.”

He let out a slow breath, dragging a hand down his face. What the hell’s wrong with me?

This wasn’t supposed to be complicated. You were just another person, another moving part in a world he was supposed to keep functioning smoothly. His job here wasn’t to make friends or build relationships—it was to keep things in line, to be the wall people didn’t bother trying to climb. And yet…

His fingers curled into a fist as he leaned back in the seat, his head hitting the headrest with a soft thud. He’d never been the type to care what people thought of him. He didn’t have the time or the patience for it. But now? Sitting here, replaying the meeting and the way he’d deliberately brushed you off like any of the women who were desperate for his attention, he felt disgusted. Not with you—but with himself.

Because, no matter how much he tried to act like it didn’t matter, like you didn’t matter, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d crossed some invisible line. He’d looked into your eyes, seen the faint shadow of hurt there, and for a split second, he’d wanted to say something real—something that wasn’t part of the cold mask he’d been wearing since the day he walked into the diner.

He wanted to tell you the truth.

The thought made his stomach twist, a sharp, uncomfortable pang of self-awareness settling in his chest. This is exactly why I need to keep my distance.

He knew better than to get attached. Better than to let himself linger in moments that felt too warm, too genuine. People like him didn’t get to have those things. His life didn’t allow for it—never had, never would.

And yet, the more he tried to push you away, the harder it was to ignore the way you lingered in his thoughts.

Toji exhaled sharply, his hands gripping the steering wheel again as he stared out at the growing light. This was going to be harder than he thought.

It wasn’t just that he didn’t want you to get close—it was that he didn’t know if he was strong enough to keep you from seeing through him.

How the hell am I supposed to make you hate me, he thought darkly, his jaw tightening as his fingers drummed against the wheel, when I can’t even stop myself from wanting to be real with you?

The air in the car felt stifling, heavy with unspoken frustration. Toji reached for the key, jamming it into the ignition and twisting it sharply. The engine roared to life, a loud reminder of the reality he needed to stay grounded in.

He shifted into gear, pulling out onto the street, his hands gripping the wheel tightly as he drove. He’d made it through worse than this. He’d learned how to bury things deeper than anyone could ever reach.

But tonight, for the first time in a long time, he wondered if that was enough.

-------------------

The condo was massive. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched across the living room, offering an uninterrupted view of the glittering skyline. Toji leaned against the doorway, his sharp eyes scanning the sleek, minimalist design of the space. It was almost too pristine—everything in neutral tones, glass and polished wood surfaces gleaming under the dim recessed lighting.

“Figures,” he muttered to himself, his lips twitching in a faint smirk. This place had Gojo written all over it—expensive, flashy, and just detached enough to feel impersonal.

Toji stepped further inside, letting the door close behind him with a soft click. He took off his shoes and sat them at the door, the echo of his heavy footsteps hitting the hardwood floors followed him as he made his way through the condo, dropping his duffel bag unceremoniously on the couch. The kitchen was sleek, the fridge stocked with a few basics, but it was the master bedroom that made him pause.

A king-sized bed sat neatly made with crisp white sheets, a low platform frame adding to the modern aesthetic. Plush pillows lined the head of the bed with a beyond fluffy comforter neatly made up across it. It was a far cry from the small, utilitarian motels and over the top lux hotels he’d grown accustomed to during his work. This room felt too comfortable, too settled—almost like it belonged to someone with a life he didn’t have.

Toji shrugged off his jacket, tossing it onto the bed before heading to the bathroom. The space was just as luxurious as the rest of the condo, complete with a rainfall showerhead and marble floors. He turned the water on, steam quickly filling the room as he stripped out of his clothes.

The hot water hit his skin, washing away the tension that had been clinging to him since the staff meeting. He let himself linger under the spray, his head tilted forward as the water ran through his hair and over his shoulders.

You’ve been through worse, he thought, trying to shake off the unease that had settled in his chest. The situation at the club, the meeting with you—he’d handle it. He always did.

“Being a Zen’in means separating yourself from the rest. Hold yourself to where you can’t be touched but they’d be willing to die just to hear you degrade them. The Zen’in way, cousin.”

The voice rang through his mind as the water ran over his face for a bit too long. Toji came back to the present, coughing and breathing heavily as he turned the water off.

After the shower, he changed into a pair of loose sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt, running a towel through his damp hair as he moved back into the living room. The condo was quiet, save for the faint sounds of the refrigerator and a few voices cascading in from the courtyard at the center of the complex.

He had just settled onto the oversized couch, his head leaning back against the cushions, when his phone buzzed on the coffee table.

Toji’s brow furrowed as he reached for it, flipping it over to check the screen. A text.

-Hi. Got your number from Suguru—he said it’s for emergencies, but I hope you don’t mind me using it. Just wanted to… clear the air after today.

Your name flashed on the screen, and for a moment, Toji didn’t move, his thumb hovering over the reply button. He read the message again, something in him tightening at the thought of you reaching out.

He could’ve left it alone. A quick “No problem” or even no reply at all would’ve been enough to maintain the distance he was trying so hard to keep. But instead, his thumb slid over to the call button, and before he could second-guess himself, the phone was ringing.

You answered after the second ring.

“Hello?”

“It’s me,” Toji said, his voice calm and steady. “Figured I’d call instead of texting. Easier that way.”

There was a slight pause on your end before you responded. “Oh. Okay. Well. Hi.”

He could hear the slight surprise in your voice, and it almost made him smirk. He leaned back into the couch, letting the weight of the day ease just slightly as he found himself speaking again.

“About the name thing,” he started, keeping his tone even. “I wasn’t trying to lie to you.”

“You didn’t think it was worth mentioning?” you asked, and though your tone wasn’t sharp, he could hear the edge of hurt lingering beneath it.

Toji let out a soft sigh, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not like that. Suguru’s always known me as Zen’in. That’s the name I use in professional settings—makes things easier. Less messy.”

“Less messy?”

He chuckled, the sound low and quiet. “You wouldn’t believe the headaches the Zen’in name comes with. Fushiguro… it’s what I go by when I don’t want people connecting me to the family. But around Suguru, around work—it’s just simpler this way.”

Another pause, and then your voice softened. “Okay. I get it.”

Toji’s shoulders relaxed slightly at the sound of your forgiveness, though he wasn’t sure why it mattered so much.

“Thanks for not holding it against me,” he said, his voice dropping just slightly.

“Well, I wouldn’t say you’re completely off the hook,” you teased, and he could hear the faint smile in your tone.

A corner of his mouth quirked upward. “Didn’t think it’d be that easy.”

“So do I keep calling you Fushiguro around Ayame?”

‘Yes, please. Would make life easier.”

“Hm” you softly hummed into the phone. “I’m expecting bonus pay for all this extra work I’m having to do on your behalf.”

Toji smiled and closed his eyes. “Yes ma’am.”

  What started as a conversation to clear the air quickly shifted into something lighter, easier. You asked him about the rest of his day which led to him mentioning the condo, and he responded with a mix of dry humor and genuine observations, describing the place as “too damn big for one person” but “exactly what I’d expect from Gojo.”

Your laughter over the phone caught him off guard. It wasn’t loud or overbearing—just soft, genuine, and for a moment, it felt like it filled the quiet space of the condo.

“You sound like you’ve got a few stories about Gojo,” you chimed, amusement lacing your words.

“More than a few,” Toji admitted, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Most of ‘em would probably make you question why he’s allowed to walk around unsupervised.”

“And Suguru, the man who has mandatory quiet time before the club opens, is married to him? I just can’t see it.”

“Believe me, no one can. But it works. You’ll see when he visits the club sometimes.”

The banter came easily after that, your voice filling the silence as the conversation drifted from Gojo to other topics. Toji found himself talking more than he expected, your laughter and occasional sharp quips pulling him into a rhythm that felt too comfortable for his liking but didn’t even give it a second notice as he moved from the couch to the bedroom.

At some point, he realized he put you on speaker with the phone lying on his chest, and his right hand had drifted to his left ring finger, his thumb absently sliding over the familiar metal band there. He hadn’t even noticed when he’d started twisting it, the cool metal spinning loosely against his skin until he slipped it off entirely.

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut.

He stared down at the ring in his palm, the weight of it suddenly feeling heavier than it ever had before. His chest tightened, a sharp pang of guilt and unease cutting through the ease he’d felt just moments ago.

You were still talking, unaware of his sudden silence. He slid the ring back on quickly, the motion almost frantic, as though putting it back could undo the thoughts that had started creeping into his mind.

“You still there?” you asked, your voice breaking through the fog in his head.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice rougher now. “Still here.”

But even as he said it, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was standing on the edge of something he wasn’t sure he could walk away from.

“I didn’t realize how late it was, sorry about that. I should let you get some rest before your first shift tonight.”

He heard you shuffle around as you spoke, assumed you were packing your outfits for the evenings show.

“Yeah. Would be a good idea. I’ll see you tonight. Be safe.” He stared down at his ring finger, the ring seemingly pulsing around it. “And let me know if you need me tonight. I’ll be in Suguru’s office by the time you get there.”

“Of course! I’ll see you tonight, Toji. Be careful.”

the call ended and Toji was left with a feeling that he hated.

“I absolutely cannot fucking do this.”

The office was suffocatingly silent except for the steady ticking of the ornate clock on the wall. Naoya sat at his desk, fingers drumming against polished wood as his other hand gripped his phone tightly. His jaw clenched, barely containing the fury coursing through him. When the call finally connected, he didn’t wait for pleasantries.

“You better have a damn good explanation for this, Kenjaku,” Naoya spat, venom dripping from every word. “Do you have any idea what your failure cost me?”

The voice on the other end was infuriatingly calm, smooth as silk and just as slippery.

“Naoya, you’re always so dramatic. Relax.” There was a pause, and Naoya could almost hear the faint sound of a chuckle. “It’s not as though your world is ending.”

Naoya’s fist slammed onto the desk, rattling a glass of whiskey that sat untouched beside him.

“Don’t patronize me, you ground snake. You promised results. I don’t make deals with incompetents. Do you understand how bad this makes me look?”

Kenjaku’s response was maddeningly casual. “Oh, Naoya. Always concerned with appearances. Isn’t it exhausting? Perhaps you should broaden your perspective. You Zen’ins are so... limited.”

“What did you just say?” Naoya’s voice dropped an octave, dangerously low. “I’ll give you one chance to explain yourself before I make you regret ever crossing me.”

Kenjaku sighed, the sound mocking. “Threats already? That’s disappointing. I thought you had more finesse. But since you insist... our deal, Naoya, is no longer my priority. Let’s just say I’ve found someone more... capable.”

The words hung in the air, their weight pressing down on Naoya’s chest. His grip on the phone tightened until his knuckles turned white.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he demanded. “There’s no one more capable than me. Who the hell do you think you’re dealing with?”

Kenjaku’s laugh was soft, yet it sent a chill down Naoya’s spine.

“Oh, I know exactly who I’m dealing with. But it seems you’ve overlooked something... or someone. I’ve found a Zen’in who might understands power in a way you never will.”

Naoya’s heart skipped a beat, his mind racing. Another Zen’in? It couldn’t be Maki or Mai—they were too insignificant. His father? No, Naobito wouldn’t stoop to dealing with someone like Kenjaku. That left...

“You’re bluffing,” Naoya said, though the edge in his voice betrayed his growing unease. “There’s no one else. No one worth your time.”

“Oh, I assure you, they’re very much worth my time,” Kenjaku purred. “In fact, I’d say they’re a better investment than you could ever be. But don’t take it personally. You’re just... replaceable.”

The word hit Naoya like a slap to the face. Replaceable. Him? His nails dug into his palm as he struggled to maintain control.

“Who is it?” he hissed. “Tell me who you’re working with.”

Kenjaku’s tone turned almost pitying, though the mockery was still evident.

“Now, now, Naoya. Where’s the fun in that? You’ll find out soon enough. But if I were you... I’d watch my back. You’re not as untouchable as you think.”

Before Naoya could respond, the line went dead. For a moment, he sat frozen, staring at the phone in his hand as though willing it to reconnect. Then, with a roar of frustration, he hurled it across the room, shattering it against the wall.

The office was silent again. Naoya’s chest heaved as he tried to steady his breathing. His mind raced, replaying Kenjaku’s words over and over. Another Zen’in. Someone who could replace him.

But who could be so bold to try and be a Zen’in.

And more importantly... why?

[anonymousewrites]

Burden of Truth (Book 1) Chapter Fifteen

Father Figure! Marc Spector x Teen! Reader

Father Figure! Steven Grant x Teen! Reader

Mother Figure! Layla El-Faouly x Teen! Reader

Chapter Fifteen: In a New Chapter

Summary: (Y/N), Marc, and Steven experience a new type of life.

Mouse Note: Thank you so much for reading Burden of Truth (Book 1)! I had so much fun sharing with everyone. Really, I loved writing this. I hope that more Moon Knight content comes out soon because I already miss these guys so much. But, for now, I must say goodbye. I have more content in other series coming, and I have other Father Figure stories, so, please, take a look if you liked this story! Until next time

            (Y/N) stepped out of the Great Pyramid. Their mind was their own. Their choices were their own. Their purpose was their own.

            The warmth of the rising sun greeted them as they stepped out, and (Y/N) took a deep breath. Fresh, free air greeted their lungs. For a moment, they just stood there, existing. That’s all they wanted to do, forever.

            “Hey. You alright, (Y/N)?”

            (Y/N) opened their eyes and looked at Layla. They grinned. “I’m great.”

            “You’re not an Avatar anymore, are you?” said Marc.

            (Y/N) shook their head. “No. Ma’at gave me a gift in thanks, and then she let me go.”

            “Nicer than Khonshu,” muttered Marc.

            Steven switched in. “What are you going to do now?”

            (Y/N) shrugged. “I don’t know.”

            “You’re not going to just…wander off alone, are you?” asked Steven worriedly.

            “…I don’t know what else to do,” said (Y/N).

            Layla scoffed. “No way are we letting you go off alone. You’re what, seventeen? No.”

            “What else do I do?” asked (Y/N).

            “Come back to London with me! And Marc!” said Steven instantly.

            (Y/N) blinked, and their heart warmed. “What?”

            “Layla is…going to be off doing Layla things, but we’re…we’re going to try to figure things out, Marc and I, between us. So we’re going back to London, to my flat,” said Steven, smiling.

            “I—You want me to?” whispered (Y/N) as if the spell of being wanted, belonging, would break if they spoke too loudly, no matter how honest Steven’s words were.

            Layla rolled her eyes. (Y/N) was apparently oblivious to how much Steven and Marc had become attached to them. “Of course they do.”

            “Come home with us,” said Steven.

            “Really?” They knew it was the truth, but it felt too impossible to accept. (Y/N) felt tears collect in their eyes, and their heart swelled with so much warmth it felt like they would burst.

            “We’re not leaving you alone, kid,” said Marc, switching to front. He pulled (Y/N) in and hugged them.

            (Y/N) let out a happy sob and grinned. They hugged back.

l

A few months later…

            (Y/N)’s eyes opened as sunlight warmed their skin. Rolling over, they looked out the window at the bustle of London below. They smiled.

            “Heya, are you awake, (Y/N)?”

            (Y/N) sat up as Steven poked his head into the room. “I’m up.”

            “Oh, good, I’m making pancakes. Want some?” said Steven.

            (Y/N) smiled. “Sure.”

            Steven grinned and nodded, leaving the room.

            (Y/N) got out of bed and changed into their day clothes. Pulling on a t-shirt and jeans, they looked in the mirror. They didn’t need to be prepared for thievery or fighting. They could just…be.

            Walking out of their room, (Y/N) walked to the kitchen portion of the flat.

            “Hey, Guses,” said (Y/N), picking up fish food and sprinkling it into the tank where two fish swam together.

            “Oh, yeah, we forgot to feed him this morning,” said Steven. “Thanks!”

            “No, I told you too, and you forgot,” said Marc from the mirror.

            “He’s cooking, so it’s alright,” said (Y/N), taking a plate from Steven.

            “He should make an omelet. You don’t get enough protein with him,” said Marc.

            “I make sure they do!” defended Steven, but there was nothing adversarial.

            “Marc, I cook for myself,” said (Y/N) matter-of-factly. “You don’t have to worry.”

            “But I do,” said Marc, switching in and pulling out eggs to start cooking.

            (Y/N) laughed and smiled.

            “What are you doing today?” asked Marc, glancing at (Y/N).

            They paused and considered. “I don’t know.” And that was the honest truth. They grinned. “I’m going to walk around and see what interests me.”

            Marc’s gaze softened, and he smiled. “Alright. Just be careful.” He scooped eggs onto their plate. “And don’t forget, you and I are training later.”

            “Right,” said (Y/N), eating their pancakes and eggs. “I’ll be back at 4.”

            “Do you need pocket money?” said Steven from the reflection in the aquarium.

            (Y/N) shook their head. “I managed to save some money when I worked with Ma’at. I’m fine.”

            “Alright, but if you need anything, anything at all, you’ll tell us, right?” said Steven, fretting as usual.

            (Y/N) smiled. “I will. Thank you.” They stood, passed their plate to Marc, and picked up their messenger back—the first item they’d bought in London. It reminded them of what their parents brought with them. “Bye. I’ll see you later.”

            “Bye, kid,” said Marc, watching them go.

            The door slammed closed behind them, and Marc smiled.

            “We’re doing good, aren’t we?” said Steven, looking at Marc.

            “I hope so. They’re a good kid,” said Marc.

            “Yeah. I really like them. It’s kind of like…we’re a family, you know?” said Steven.

            “I know,” said Marc, his gaze softening. “I know.”

l

            (Y/N) hummed as they sat down at the café of a bookstore they’d happened upon. Opening their phone, they scrolled through the news. As usual, the first things that popped up were the latest moves of some of the newer superheroes on the scene, like the new, female Hulk or a girl fighting with crystal-like abilities in Jersey City.

            Leaving the news behind, (Y/N) clicked on their music and pressed play.

            “El Melouk” began to play through their earbuds, and they smiled, taking a sip of their coffee.

            “Look, look, look where we have been/and where we are now.”

            (Y/N) smiled.

            They had lost everything, but now, they were living. They had people they cared about. They had a home. (Y/N) even dared say they had a family.

            And (Y/N) had a chance to figure out who they were.

Taglist:

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[chwedout]

chwedout has finally reached 1k followers! thank you to everyone who decided to press the follow button, from those who followed me way back in the spiderstingle days to those who only followed me recently, i really appreciate it! to celebrate this milestone, i've decided to do a few things.

first of all, i've finally started a tracking tag — #chwedoutbox. you can find more about it in this post. i can't wait for you all to use it so i can see and share all the cool things you create.

secondly, i've decided to open up my ask box to requests! all you need to do is choose one of the following prompts and send a request through my ask box.

seventeen member + music video (e.g. vernon in rock with you)

seventeen member + going seventeen episode (e.g. mingyu in svt's kitchen for two)

this or that (e.g. left & right era wonwoo or 24h era wonwoo/ long haired jeonghan or short haired jeonghan)

there's no limit to how many requests you can send, go wild if you want to. i just ask that you be patient with me as sometimes i do like to go outside to breathe in fresh air and touch some grass. sending requests on anon is okay too! however, i won't be able to tag you when i do eventually post your request.

now i just want to say a massive thank you to all of my mutuals! being sappy lowkey makes me cringe but i couldn't have reached this milestone without any of you. to my og mutuals (i won't tag you dw) who were here way before i turned into a kpop blog, to my newest mutuals who i probably haven't spoken to, thank you! i hope you all know how much i appreciate you and that you all mean so much to me ♡

first of all my ride or dies- the hhu wives- sarah @vertiny, bec @storyoflight, and alex (idk if you deactivated </3) i literally would not be here without all of you. we've been through so much together and i just want to say that i love all of you so so much! let's all hope that we can one day go to that svt concert together.

j @vcrnons - my dolly in crime and my first ever caratual on tumblr! if i remember correctly, you followed me way back when i hadn't fully committed to being an svt blog yet. thank you so much for being so kind and supportive to me when i first started. i mean it when i say i don't think i'd be here if we didn't become mutuals since your work always inspired me to start creating myself.

ophelia @lee-sanghyeok - another one of my fave vernon stans! thank you for always being a joy to see on the dash! you're so incredibly sweet and i know i can always count on you to send me vernon content when i ask for it.

kashi @jeonsupershy - one of my fave wonwoo stans fr! seeing all of your wonwoo gifs always puts a smile on my face. every time he does something i just know that i'm going to be reblogging one of your stunning gifs later in the day. thank you for always being such an awesome presence on the dash. i'm so grateful to be mutuals with you!

max @scouped - you are so incredibly talented and i really hope you know that! i'm always in awe whenever i see one of your creations on my dash. you definitely inspire me to push the boundaries of my creativity when it comes to making content. i do miss your presence on tumblr but i'm always happy when i see you on the dash from time to time.

tiff @uservernon - my beloved dolly moot! thank you for always being so sweet. you always bring such a fun and bright presence to caratblr and i love seeing you on the dash or in my notifs especially when you're screaming about vernon. the url is still a powermove in my opinion!

maddie @jeonwon-wonwoo - you are genuinely one of the kindest and friendliest people i've met on tumblr. i've had so much fun talking to you about the most random things. i'll never forget our chats about the walking dead and teen wolf. i hope you're doing well!

yena @fairyhaos - my fave joshua stan! i hope you know that every time i see the couch shua pic i think of you lmao. i always love seeing you lose your mind over shua and you never fail to make me laugh with all the tags you leave on posts. thank you for bringing such a positive energy to caratblr! i'm so glad to have you as a mutual.

zaynab @galatariel - another one of my insanely talented mutuals! your gifs are always so gorgeous and always inspire me to go out of my comfort zone and create something new. i always enjoy seeing you make content for the things you love. thank you for being so kind and helpful.

nuri @jjunhui - again, another mutual who is extremely talented! everything you make is just stunning and your svt as text posts gifsets never fail to make me laugh. thank you for being so supportive and kind. i am so grateful to have you as a mutual.

nana @kyeomies - so glad to see that you're back! i've always enjoyed seeing your pretty gifs on my dash and can't wait to see more of your content. i hope you're doing well!

yo @redrcbin - literally one of my most beloved mutuals! i'm still not 100% sure when we became mutuals but i think it's pretty funny if it was because of the c-word game. i always love seeing you on the dash and in my notifs, especially when i see you losing your mind over wonwoo or mingyu. i'm so happy i get to call you a friend.

and to all the mutuals that i haven't talked to or interacted with that much - @jeongtokkie, @kimsmingyu, @wonboos, @leedonghun, and @soonhoonsol - thank you so much for being awesome! i really hope we do get to talk more in the future.

now i'm going to kick myself because tumblr won't let me tag anymore people and i'm pretty sure i've missed out on so many beloved mutuals of mine. i'm extremely sorry if i did, but please know that i appreciate every single one of you so much!

[spacecadet-ticklesinspace]

Tickletober Day 25: New Discovery

Fandom: Avatar the Last Airbender

Pairing: Uncle Iroh and Zuko

Summary: Uncle Iroh discovers something new about his nephew.

(This is a newer favorite of mine so I haven't seen all of the seasons yet ❤️:) These two are my favorite characters by far ❤️ :) Set around Season 2 or 3 ❤️ :))

"You hardly touched your tea Zuko." Iroh turned to his nephew. "Are you alright?"

Zuko looked away from his cup. "I'm fine Uncle."

"Is it the tea?"

"The tea's fine. You did a great job with the recipe."

"Thank you. I discovered a new plant on my walk yesterday and it smelled exactly like ginger root."

Zuko turned to his uncle. "Is it ginger root?"

"Wasn't shaped like any ginger root that I'd ever seen." Iroh set his teapot back down. "So if the tea is not the problem, it must be the company."

The teen's head snapped up. "Of course not."

"Then what?"

"I'm sorry." Zuko pushed his shoulders upright. "I didn't want to cause any problems on today's visit . . . I just had a rough day yesterday."

"Oh?"

". . . Uncle, do you ever doubt your experience as a firebender?"

"My experience, no. My knowledge, yes."

"Aren't they the same?"

"Your experience as a firebender is just that, experience. Experience helps you to learn and grow and mature. Your knowledge is gained through those experiences, but it can also be gained in other ways. Not all experiences are good, just like not all knowledge is good. However, you can more easily move on from a bad experience than you can from bad knowledge."

"So, I'm doubting my experience because of bad knowledge?"

"Perhaps, or perhaps there's something else making you doubt."

Zuko looked away again.

"I see." Iroh leaned forward. "Maybe you don't doubt your experience Zuko. Maybe you doubt your abilities."

The former prince stood. "I need some fresh air. Would you care to join me?"

Iroh placed his tea cup down then stood. "Perhaps a walk would do us both some good. I know a trail we can stroll down."

"That sounds perfect."

Iroh smiled. "Follow me."

With that, the two stepped out into the sunshine.

The older of the two sighed in contentment. "Ahh, nothing like a walk to make you feel refreshed."

"It is nice."

"Just feel the warmth of the sun on your skin, the sound of wind rushing along your ears, the feel of fresh ground under your feet. It helps to ground you and make you feel new."

"Yes indeed."

Iroh peered at his young nephew. "Something is still weighing on you."

"I don't want to bother you with it Uncle."

"Who said anything about bothering? I'm volunteering to be a listening ear. That is not bothering."

"I'd rather not talk about it."

The older of the two stopped. "Zuko, if something is bothering you, it is not wise to keep it in."

Zuko stopped and sighed. "Uncle---."

Suddenly, Iroh's eyes widened. "Zuko, look."

The younger turned only to be greeted by an amazing view. The land seemed to stretch out for miles with the bright colors of the sunset streaming along on top of it. "It's beautiful."

"The best view in all the city." Iroh placed a hand on his nephew's shoulder. "Not many people know about this area."

"Shame, people would enjoy a view like this."

As Iroh talked, his hand moved down to pat Zuko's back. "Indeed, well, atleast we get to---."

Suddenly, Zuko squeaked and jumped to the side. When his uncle had moved his hand, his fingers had brushed against his spine. Not a bad spot, but definitely a sensitive one.

"Are you alright?" Iroh asked.

"I'm fine, just---startled."

"Startled? With the way you moved, I would have thought---."

Zuko pushed away his uncle's hand as he reached for him again.

"Zuko." The older of the two narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing?"

"I'm fine Uncle." The former prince motioned to the trail. "Shall we start back? Your tea will get cold."

"Forget about the tea." Iroh grabbed his nephew's wrist and pulled him closer. "You act as if you're injured."

Zuko held up his free hand. "I'm not injured."

"Then why did you flinch."

"You startled me."

"That was not a startle."

"Please Uncle, let's go---."

"I may be an old man nephew, but I can still pin you."

Zuko's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"You're hiding something and it may be hurting you. I intend to find it out."

"You're being overprotective."

"Of course." Iroh quickly reached around to feel along Zuko's back. "I intend to be."

"Uncle---!" Whatever Zuko hoped to say was broken off by a squeak.

His uncle's hand quickly felt along his spine. The firm yet gentle pressure traveling along his back sent jolts of ticklish energy through out his entire body. Try as he might, he couldn't break the firm grip currently around his wrist. Uncle Iroh thought something was wrong and he would not be dissuaded.

Meanwhile, Iroh studied his nephew's responses to his touch. Zuko's shoulders were hunched while his entire body shook. At first, the older of the two thought it might be from pain.

However, when he looked closer, he could see a hidden smile appearing on his nephew's face.

Suddenly, the dots connected. "Ah, I see."

"Unclehele," Zuko giggled out as a blush appeared on his cheeks.

Iroh grinned. "We must look into this further."

"Wahait!"

But the older of the two did not. He used to attack his son Lee when he was younger, but Zuko had always been iffy with lots of physical touch outside of his mother. This meant Iroh had never even thought about tickling his nephew for fear of causing him discomfort.

However, the changes in Zuko's life had made him more comfortable with touch so Iroh didn't think twice of tickling him now.

The younger of the two snorted as his uncle's hand moved up to his shoulder blades.

"Well, what injuries are you hiding up here now?" Iroh teased.

"Nothihing!" Zuko squirmed. "Lehet mehe goho!"

"No no no, I'm not satisfied yet."

"But Unclehele!"

"No buts." Iroh moved along Zuko's shoulder blades. "Now hold still."

The younger squeaked and almost tipped to the side from the ticklish feeling.

"My you're sensitive nephew. What did you do to your back?"

"Unclehele plehease!"

"If you don't get checked now, you may have a bad injury and not realize."

Zuko shoved his uncle's hands away. "Enohough!"

Iroh smiled at his nephew's blushy face and residule giggles. The scowl on his face looked adorable too.

The former prince growled. "Why wohould yohou do thahat!"

"You're the one hiding something nephew, not me."

"But tickling?"

"Think you're too old to be tickled?"

"I'm 16! Tickling is for kids."

"Says who?"

"Everyone."

"Just because a majority says it, does that make it true?"

Zuko smacked his forehead with his palm.

"If what the majority said was true, you wouldn't be ticklish now, would you?" Iroh pointed out.

The former prince gave him a deadpan look.

"Can't argue with the truth." The older of the two wiggled his fingers. "And since you hid one injury, I think I need to look for others."

Before Zuko could react, Iroh immediately attacked his sides. The younger squealed and broke into loud laughter. He grabbed onto his uncle's wrists as he tried to squirm away.

The older man couldn't keep the soft smile off his face. He already loved his nephew, but seeing him laugh so freely made his heart melt a little more. "Who knew someone so stubborn headed could be so adorable?"

Zuko snorted as his uncle's hands went higher onto his ribs. The redness on his face was darkening from his embarrassment in this situation.

"Hmm, have you done any injuries to your ribs? One, two, three---."

"Unclehele plehehease!"

"I'm not finished with checking you for injuries just yet. Now I have to start over."

A moment later, Zuko broke free of the grip and took several steps back.

Iroh chuckled and smirked. "You'd better run. I'm not letting you get away that easily."

The former prince's eyes went wide and a moment later, he took off.

Iroh's demeanor softened. His nephew would eventually tell him what was bugging him, but for now, he would keep his mind distracted with his new discovery.

[wish-incorrect-quotes]

A Royal Pet

Queen Amaya decides that life in the palace could use a new furry friend (or perhaps a not-so-furry one).

--------‐-----------------------------------------

Amaya adjusted the cloth resting lightly over the basket in her hands, and she wondered what the chances were that she could actually keep the contents inside hidden long enough for it to be any sort of surprise.

Most likely, it wouldn’t be long until the secret was blown. But she couldn’t say she would mind too much. She was eager to see what the group of friends in the castle would think.

This time, she didn’t need to go all the way down to the lowest floor to find them. A castle was a lot of space, and it had occurred to her that when there were plenty of rooms sitting largely untouched, there was no reason why she couldn’t give them one of those rooms as a place to enjoy their downtime. She still found them down in the kitchen fairly often, and she suspected they would always have a sense of familiarity there that made it appealing. Not to mention, she thought with a smile, it meant they were ready to pounce on trays of baked goods as soon as they came fresh out of the oven. Though she still found it nice to see them realizing they didn’t need to stay down there all the time.

Shortly after she had entered the room and heard all of their greetings, Dario’s eyes landed on the basket, and he lit up with an excited grin.

“Are we having a picnic?”

Before she could start to answer, Hal and Dario were already in the process of dragging one of the tablecloths to the floor to see if it would provide enough space for everyone when spread out.

Gabo usually tried to keep the complaining to a minimum in the presence of royalty, though the fact that a (thankfully unlit) candlestick tumbled into his lap as they pulled at the tablecloth was enough to make him ask, “Why are you so excited to eat off the ground when there’s perfectly good tables here?”

As if the answer should be perfectly obvious, Dario explained, “Because it’s not a real picnic if you’re just sitting inside at a regular old table.”

“I’m afraid it’s not a picnic at all.” Amaya gently interrupted. “But I do have a surprise for all of you.”

She began to beckon them all closer to look, and at that moment, the basket jostled in her hands and began to let out a chorus of eager-to-explore meows. It seemed that the cat was out of the bag, somewhat literally, and she pulled the cloth away to reveal the creatures playfully tumbling around inside.

“Kittens!” Hal squealed. After a quick glance at the queen to confirm that it was alright, she reached to pick one up, laughing in delight as it reached a tiny paw to bat at her necklace.

While several more of the teens began lifting the rest of the kittens out of the basket to play with them, Dahlia smiled at the sight of them all having fun, though she still turned to look at Amaya, clearly curious for an explanation.

Just slightly raising her voice to be heard over all the commotion, Amaya spoke up with, “They’re all going to be adopted soon, and plenty of very nice people in the kingdom have offered to provide a good home. But first, I was hoping you all could help me choose one to live here in the palace.”

The excitement immediately picked up further, and Amaya happily slipped towards the side of the room to observe.

She tried to keep an eye out, watching carefully to see if there was one they seemed to be bonding with particularly well. There was the little calico still happily playing with Hal, a white snowball of a kitten happily chasing sparkles around after Asha had pulled out her wand as an impromptu cat toy, a ginger tabby in a fierce battle with the laces of Simon’s boots, Bazeema, after pushing past a bit of shyness, deciding to try petting the black one with a splash of white on its chest, Gabo not quite managing to pretend to be unhappy about the idea as he watched the scene unfold…

It appeared this had been a very good idea, Amaya decided. It was plain to see that whichever cat they picked would be one they could have a great time playing with. And it would be nice for her, too. As much as she enjoyed having this group and their chatter filling the castle halls nowadays, they did, of course, have to go home at the end of the day. But while she did still enjoy her alone time now and then, it might be nice if she wasn’t completely alone, and she would be glad to have a little companion to spend quiet evenings with.

But with how much she was enjoying watching the teens and kittens playing together, it took her perhaps longer than she felt it should have to notice that one had retreated to the far corner of the room.

Safi was watching his friends with a warm smile, but his expression gradually began to grow troubled. As minutes went by, he started to swipe a sleeve at his nose, trying to keep it subtle enough to go unnoticed, though it was getting more and more frequent.

Just about anything with fur or feathers could get him sniffling, and usually he was perfectly willing to tough out a few sneezes to spend time with them. After all, he didn't think he'd ever get to leave his room if he tried to avoid everything he was allergic to. But cats had always been the worst by far. He desperately wanted to avoid calling attention to himself when everyone looked so happy, but it seemed his nose didn’t want to give him much choice in the matter.

He managed to keep the first few sneezes quiet enough to avoid his friends hearing, but his willpower soon lost out, and it was difficult to tell how much of the redness in his face was from a persistent fit of sneezing and how much was from knowing everyone had turned to look at him.

Dahlia stepped into action, and crossed the room to ask, “Are you okay?”

He did his best to mutter something about probably having a cold through a face buried in the crook of his arm. Thoroughly unconvinced, Dahlia pulled up the sleeve of his free arm to examine it.

“You’re getting hives. Come on, I’m taking you outside.” She stated decisively. Defeated, Safi only nodded, and stumbled after her as she gently but firmly pulled him along.

Quickly realizing she ought to be helping as well, Amaya started trying to gather up the kittens and get them back into the basket again (a task that was much easier said than done).

“My apologies. I should have thought to ask before bringing them here.”

Safi managed to briefly glance up, and the queen almost hoped the tears streaming from red and puffy eyes were only a reaction to fur.

The room had rapidly changed from joyful to quiet and concerned, and even if no one’s looks of disappointment were necessarily aimed at him, it was clear that he noticed them sharply. Amaya could practically hear him thinking, “All my fault.”

Feeling a sinking in the pit of her stomach, she pulled her eyes away to return her focus to gathering up the last of the scurrying kittens.

--------------------------------------------------

Amaya felt terrible.

Technically, she supposed everything had turned out alright. Safi was fine, thank goodness. Dahlia had assured her that he was right as rain after some time out in the fresh air and washing off any cat fur that had found its way onto his clothes. And the queen had promised to make sure the room was thoroughly cleaned out before any of them wanted to use it again. And alright, so her plans had been scrapped, but as much as she had been looking forward to the idea, she was perfectly willing to live without a cat if getting one was going to make anyone suffer.

But that look on the poor boy’s face…

She’d wanted this to be something to make them all happy, and she couldn’t stand the thought that she’d left one of them guilty and miserable instead.

Now that it had turned to an evening alone in the castle, she was determined to find a way to fix things. She was certain she could find a solution if she just thought about it enough. This wasn't exactly a high-stakes diplomatic issue, but still, competent royalty had to be good at smoothing out incidents.

Was there a way they could make things work with a cat after all? It was a large building, perhaps they could be kept far enough apart? But she would just hate to start putting up barriers again now that she was finally getting them all used to knowing they were welcome throughout the whole castle. Besides, he would still be left out if the others decided they wanted to go spend time with her pet, and she didn’t think that would be a fair way of fixing things.

A different kind of animal, maybe? She did like dogs as well, and they didn’t seem to set his allergies off to nearly that extreme. But running a kingdom was something that kept her busy much of the time, and she didn’t think it would be right to get one when she couldn't guarantee a regular walk schedule.

Was this a problem that required magic to solve? If he wanted to give it a try, there might be a spell that could ease his symptoms. It was an option she would definitely keep in mind, though she decided she wouldn’t jump straight to asking for Asha’s aid. She trusted their new fairy godmother, but it was still important to show their people that many problems could be fixed by finding your way around the stumbling blocks. Also, she supposed it could get a bit risky to have someone just starting to learn magic attempt a spell involving someone’s health.

There had to be an answer, she was sure of it. And since she didn’t feel much like sleeping yet anyway, she would try to keep thinking until she figured it out.

--------------------------------------------------

“If you have a minute, could you all come with me? There’s something I’d like to show you.”

Amaya decided that this time, she wouldn’t bring her surprise to the teen’s break room, and had instead left it in the entry room of the castle just in case things once again didn’t turn out as expected. But as the group of friends eagerly got to their feet to follow her, she allowed herself to feel cautiously hopeful that she had found something that could make a pleasant surprise for all of them.

The little creature was rather tired out after its journey to Rosas, and as Amaya had expected, it was contentedly staying put now that she had left a cushion in a sunbeam perfectly inviting for a nap.

Pulled out of dozing by the herd of footsteps coming down the stairs, the head lifted with a curious “Mrr?”, revealing a pair of large, bright eyes.

“Oh, awesome!” Dario quickly picked up the animal and lifted it up to his eye level, beaming as it began to vibrate with a soft rumbling noise. A few moments later, he looked over at Dahlia to ask, “What is it?”

“It’s a cat, Dario.”

His head tilted as he examined the wrinkly forehead, then turned it slightly in a few different directions to see the rest of it. Silvery-grey, dotted and striped with various tabby markings, but completely lacking when it came to fur.

Cheerfully, he decided, “No, I don’t think so.”

“What happened to it?” Gabo blurted out, eying the creature in a way that suggested he was certain they were all at risk of catching some sort of mange. Suddenly remembering that he was talking about something belonging to the queen, he flinched slightly and sent her a nervous glance.

To his relief, Amaya only let out a good-natured laugh and assured him, “It’s alright, she’s perfectly healthy. Sphynx cats are born this way.”

With his nerves at ease again, Gabo muttered under his breath, “Awful funny looking if you ask me…”

Bazeema came closer to see the cat, reaching out tentatively at first, but soon petting it with a bit more confidence when it purred louder and eagerly leaned into her hand.

“Well I think she’s beautiful.” She said in a soft voice.

Safi had begun to come closer as well, and Amaya watched with bated breath. She could tell that he was nervous as well, but gradually, his eyes lit up as the usual symptoms didn’t appear, and he became positive he wasn’t going to get anything worse than a few light sniffles.

He pulled his eyes away to look at the queen, and found that she was already watching him. Seeing her give him a questioning look, he nodded to confirm that he would be perfectly alright if this one stayed.

“So, what do you all think? Will she make a good fit for the palace?” Amaya asked.

Though they were all too busy excitedly talking out once for her to make out the words, Amaya could see that the answer was clear.

Dahlia quickly stepped in to make sure they took turns and didn’t swarm the castle’s new pet, though it barely seemed necessary when the cat was calmly, and obviously with much delight, soaking in all of the attention. She was going to prove quite the charmer next time she had guests over for royal events, Amaya was certain of that.

But more importantly, seeing how happy the group of friends looked had Amaya knowing she had done something very good here.

[phillyfoodproject]

Third Spaces: Community Gardens, Community Fridges, Oh My!

Do you have a hobby that isn't doom-scrolling for hours on end? Do you have a place that isn't work or school where you spend time with others? Do you know your neighbors?

There is a lot of talk online about the lack of third spaces (or maybe that's just my corner of the internet). The TL;DR is that, once upon a time, there were places where you could go out for free, or at least for cheap, and socialize. Your first space is your home, and your second is your job. The illusive third space can be summed up as the "community space".

Picture the spots teens hang out at in media based in the 50's: drive-in movie theaters, diners, libraries, soda fountains, bowling alleys. Or, in the 80's: malls, arcades, roller skating rinks. What is the equivalent to that now? Well, many would argue that that space now is the internet. I'm not intending to put on the rose-colored glasses to a past that I was not around for, but it is hard to not recognize that these spaces do not exist in the same way anymore.

When we talk about community, it sometimes feels like something abstract, something intangible.

What are we left with if we don't have that feeling of belonging within our neighborhood?

Neoliberalism prescribes that we imagine each part of our lives in cost-benefit terms, competing in our own personal lives against our peers. It's responsible for the idea that one cannot win without someone else losing. We become deeply individualistic, conditioned to believe that all facets of life are part of some zero-sum game. We are poisoned and poised to oppose the funding of social benefits; "Why should I pay more in taxes to fund other peoples' poor decisions?" We become alienated from each other.

But it doesn't have to be this way. Neighborhoods across the country and throughout Philadelphia are privy to the importance of community and solidarity. Community gardens are not just about farming. They are a third space where neighbors can gather and share wisdom with each other. The youth can be educated about where food comes from, but also about the history of where they live.

A community fridge may operate by itself, but more often than not, it is part of a mutual aid network. Volunteers are needed to maintain the fridges, people must regularly ensure that the fridges are clean and full. Maybe they even dialogue with a nearby community farm/garden to keep fresh, local produce stocked.

We are given one life. Most people like to think of themselves as good and kind. What you put into your community has a lasting impact. If you remain alienated from your community, that is your choice. But these community spaces did not magically appear, they are built of love and labor. Hopefully these musings resonate with you; create the type of world that you want to live in. Build the community you want to see.

References:

Aquizoncolquitt. (2023, November 1). Third places: What are they and why are they important to American culture? | English Language Institute. https://esl.uchicago.edu/2023/11/01/third-places-what-are-they-and-why-are-they-important-to-american-culture/

Marx, K. (1884). Estranged labor. In Economic and philosophic manuscripts of 1844. https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1844/manuscripts/labour.htm

Oldenburg, R. (n.d.). Our vanishing “Third places.” In Planning Commissioners Journal: Vol. Number 25. https://plannersweb.com/wp-content/uploads/1997/01/184.pdf

Soukup, C. (2006). Computer-mediated communication as a virtual third place: building Oldenburg’s great good places on the world wide web. New Media & Society, 8(3), 421–440. https://doi.org/10.1177/1461444806061953

[thesequelandink]

August

Pairing: Thomas Barrow and Richard Ellis

Rating: Teen. No warnings apply.

Authors note: Shamelessly reposting old work. Just reread this today and am feeling rather proud. I need to find the time to write for this pairing again !!

There was a bite to the breeze that drove the waves crashing against the shore. The cold, fresh air tasted as though it had never been inhaled by another man. It held a promise of autumn. It's too cold a bluster to belong to even the dreariest July day, yet the sun still possessed the strength to dispel it when the clouds parted. The chill prompted Thomas to pull his jacket tighter, warding off the gusts as they walked barefoot along the sand.

Thomas knew a great deal about time. The winding of a clock, the rhythm of a day, the passing of the seasons—each marked by mundane tasks that signposted the passing of a year within the walls of the grand house. It had been a year since the royal visit. Had you asked him that morning, Thomas would have considered a year a lifetime spent waiting for the post, hoping to recognize the familiar handwriting on an envelope. Ask him now, and he'd say it was no time at all. How effortlessly they had fallen back into step beside each other, smiling and talking about everything and nothing at all.

"Shall we sit?" Richard smiled, gesturing to the dunes of sand. Warm here beneath their feet where the sun had peeked through, winning a silent battle with the breeze.

"It's nice here," Thomas replied, leaning back to recline on the sand, no doubt ruining his suit jacket. He surrendered to the moment, content to let the world wash over him. The gentle crash of waves, the rustling of tall dune grasses, and the gulls circling above, calling out their songs on the wind.

"Imagine living here," Richard mused, drawing Thomas's gaze. He lay on his side, watching him. Thomas smirked under his scrutiny.

"You'd get bored," Thomas teased, a playful glint in his eyes as he turned to face Richard fully.

"Not if you were here," Richard countered, his voice soft and earnest, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Then we'd both be bored."

"I doubt that very much, Mr. Barrow." Richard smirked, drawing idle circles against the palm of Thomas's hand, eyes fixed there thoughtfully. "I've missed you."

"Letters aren't the same, are they?" Thomas sighed, returning his eyes to the cloudy sky. They'd both been so busy. Thomas found running Downton offered little free time. Richard's job had him moving around the country so often that he never seemed to sit still long enough to make plans. They'd tried numerous times, but their schedules clashed, days off never aligned, things came up, and time moved on without them.

"I treasure them, though." He smiled. "But I'd rather hear the words you write from your lips."

"Sometimes I thought I'd dreamed you. Like you'd never existed at all." Thomas mused, how could he possibly deserve a man like Richard? How could he ever hope to keep him?

"I'll have to give you more to remember me by this time."

Remember him by, Thomas thought. Was this to be it—a day every year, every two years, till he was just a memory, a shadow from the past? Thomas held enough ghosts close to add another. Leaving him this time would feel like losing him.

He sat upright, flakes of sand falling back to the ground beneath him. Eyes fixed ahead, he refused to meet Richard's gaze.

"Thomas, let's not leave it another year," Richard urged, his voice filled with a quiet desperation. "It doesn't have to be here—anywhere, as long as you're with me. Let's find a cottage someplace where no one knows us or cares how we spend our days. Just don't leave me waiting on the post," he pleaded, his hand reaching out to gently turn Thomas's face towards him.

Thomas froze, heart hammering, unsure if trusting his ears was wise. He'd misread things before. Assumed love where lust or friendship lay. He'd loved men who'd promised him forever only to leave without a trace, loved men he'd never hold, loved men that made him small, who asked for no name and were gone with the morning sun. He'd fallen easily, jumped at hope, crushed again and again. He didn't trust himself.

"Don't tease me, Richard," he spoke. Richard's hand still rested against his cheek. The weather at least had driven the tourists and locals alike from the beach. Secluded and quiet, theirs for a moment.

"I'm serious, Thomas. Opening your letters is the highlight of my week." His eyes scanned the beach before he leaned in, mere inches from his lips. Thomas could feel his breath escape with each word. "I fear I'm falling for you, Mr. Barrow, with every word you wrote."

"You're daft." Thomas smiled, a tear slipping down his cheek, caught and rubbed away by Richard's thumb.

"It's tragic, really, isn't it? Falling for a man I've only kissed once. You must think me terribly foolish to hope you might feel the same after so long apart."

"I'd never think you foolish." Thomas smiled, closing the distance to press his lips to Richard's. Gentle at first, a soft brush. It was all it took to break his careful restraint. His hands found the fabric of Richard's jacket, and he clutched it, pushing Richard gently back against the sand. Thomas settled over him, bodies pressed together as his hands wandered, following the seams of his jacket.

Risky and stupid, maybe, where anyone could see. But this moment, Thomas thought, was worth any jail sentence. The thrill of it, the sheer audacity. Richard's hands roamed as well, fingers threading through Thomas's hair, pulling him closer. They wandered further, the heat of his touch seeping through the thick fabric of his jacket.

A noise escaped someone's lips; Thomas couldn't quite tell whose. Too lost in the moment to care. It drew a smile to Richard's lips, and Thomas laughed, pulling back. His face flushed, eyes wide, smile wider.

"You must think me terribly foolish," Thomas smirked. "To fall for a man, I've only kissed twice."

[helloescapist]

Can you do romantic modern au HCs for daki and a female y/n the same age whos kinda nerdy and introverted but very patient and affectionate towards daki? Kind of like an opposites attract sort of thing, like maybe they met in class and get paired together for a group project, and things slowly escalate from there? Like Daki eventually grows a soft spot for y/n

-🐼

hello, hello, 🐼

I kind of love the idea of Daki falling for a shyer personality, one that struggles with socializing, and easily nervous. Specifically, when we consider that Daki was a oiran in her human life as a means of survival, and even continuing the line of work in her demon rebirth, Daki essentially is predisposed to considering other women as threats whether its status or financial. Oirans are terrifying--- just imagining Daki with a female she can actually grow to trust and love over time is wholesome fluff I need.

And all of a sudden—I’m just going to have to break this into two parts. That’s really all there is to it. Oh the wellllllll

Sincerely, | Daki

Word Count: 2382

Setting: Daki x fem!reader

Content Warning(s): suggestive, ecchi content, reader is a low key perv (but like, who isn't in their teen years), will have mentions of assault in parts to come, girlxgirl, yuri, modern AU

Summary: an unlikely train encounter, and questionable tutoring.

A/N: the amount of effort I put into calculating how tall Daki would likely be is just… why am I like this? Spoiler alert, she is likely around 5’2-5’4, but as she appears tall for her era when you take away her shoes, such as when you view her height in comparison to Koinatsu, but for the purpose of adapting her to a modern AU, I would put her height at 5’6, as statistics show the average female height to be 5’4. Part II , headcanons

The clench of your bag in your hand, as your other hand fought to reach the handgrip. The reach just escaping your grasp, the tips of your fingers brushed against pull. The sea of bodies that pressed against your form, jostling you to and fro despite the reach of your fingers. The cram of suits, the buttons threatening to break skin as it scraped across your cheek. Early morning commuters, businessmen and women alike operating on late hours, and caffeine. Dedicated to daily survival, murmured of yawns, dreary in their stark existence. Old men that sighed into newspapers, flipped through pages and drew exhaustion upon weary bones. Their fatigue met only by the civil servants that mentally prepared themselves for the hour to come. Laborers corralled next to office workers, college students shuffled between members of the workface, their discussions of lectures hollow against the weight of data, and meetings. Ironic in the experience against the new to the world; the rare high school student such as yourself lost amongst the crowd. Victims to the push and pull of the fluctuation of passengers, your low status upon the totem pole revealed by the flutter of your school uniform as you fought against the sea of bodies, the grit of your teeth before managing your weight to the tip of your toes, the thread of your fingers secured at the caught of the metal in your palm. The rattle of the train, the murmurs of the morning as you allowed the breath to release from your lungs Struggled to multitask holding your belongings, the train rail, and push your glasses up the bridge of your nose. The murmuring of giggling girls drawing your attention out of sincere curiosity. The press of the back of hand from one to another, snickers that fell pass distinct neckties, and khaki blazers. Pressed uniforms, meticulously maintained as their fingernails, hair styled and fashioned as their sneers fell upon glossed lips. Fresh faces that fell upon haughty glares upon a girl seated amongst the crowd. Having secured a rare seating opportunity though the lecturers glances of the older men that lamented near the seats hinted that the opportunity had not afforded itself. Yet, the group of onlookers merely whispered ideal gossips, painted a portrait of a whore amongst faculty members. Murmured poisonous accusations, and delved details shameless of their surroundings. The clench of your jaw, fumbling upon the bag in your hand as your eyes caught upon the victim of their scandalous discussion.

              Moonlight kissed hair that drew the breath from your lungs, threatened to smother you with its vision. The high of her ponytail reminiscent of the beauty of oirans of the past, intentionally placed hair pins that met the curls that formed at her hips. Thick locks that captivated every curve, danced upon ever trace of her silhouette. Shuddered the chill of winter down your spine. The reveal of her breast, openly exposed, the buttons of her white uniform blouse intentionally left undone, snug against the cup of her form, the peak of—lace? W-why?  S-she was clearly a high school student, was she not? Ah, n-no maybe it’s a costume. The small shift of her hips reflected the sheer material of her thigh highs as she rolled her pelvis into the seat. The adjustment having drawn a small scrap of fabric, a skirt, and its pattern that drew the heat of your cheeks in one swift strike. As though you had been slapped with the reality of its familiarity—n-nope. Not a costume, the telling pattern back and red plaid patterns, the thin strip of black that drew at the pleating of the skirts. Her brown loafers school issued as the very ones you wore. Though your uniform had never… left such a lasting impression as the one she adorned. The fairness of her skin that the peeks of her uniform provided despite the chilly weather February provided was delicate as though she was a portrait painted by Tsukuyomi-no-Mikoto. The celestial god the only one capable of providing such beauty upon the earth, the draw of her breast and the distinct hiss that rumbled at the base of her throat.  The meticulously draw of kitten eyeliner dipped into shades of crimson rouge, and the press of her lips into a disapproving scowl. Lush, summer grass that threatened the very existence of winter’s chill upon your spine. Rattled your bones with the press of her painted lips together as her eyebrows met a furrow.

“What, are you look at?”

Her beauty unescapable, deadly as delicate. Caught amongst her glare, the point of her sharp eyes, becoming aware of the ends of her Chrysoberyl hair that appeared as though it had captivated her hiss, and robbed you of your own voice. The small shiver that met at your shoulders as you dumbly found yourself drawing your finger to your face, “M-me?” The horrific realization that you had been caught ogling her, only amplified by the chuckles of the girls that had drawn you into this situation. The sharp tint of her eyelashes, long and lush as they captivated your own. Willing your glasses at the tip of your nose to shield you from her edged lour. The flare of her breast, i-it was not your fault that you gaze had drifted as you forced your hand from the pull, tucking your finger tips to fumble with your eyewear. Struggled to choke down the lump that formed in your throat, aware of her flaring temper as she pulled herself to her feet. Abandoning her seat, and ignoring the appealing way that older men traced her steps. The shameful realization that, perhaps she was accustomed to men leering at her, and found your wandering gaze a peculiarity. Though you had not the opportunity to rationalize why she had fault with yours, nor how horrified that you were on pare with perverted old man. Fumbled with your glasses, tucked awkwardly at the strands of your hair that fell to your ears, as you attempted to find any way out of this. The draw of her pointed glare down upon you, standing a few inches taller than yourself. The hint of osmanthus followed a spice you could not name tantalized your senses, the sputtering realization of how hard her perfume had hit you left you choking on your lips.

The ding of the station, hitched upon the knot of the track. The rock of bodies, pressed every which way, the shutter of the girl before you rocked backwards, pinioned against you as you struggled to find your footing. The slam of your hand into the window pain at her head. The bend of her knees, and the shocked quiver of her pupils. Rattled at the pinion of her body pressed beneath your own lsot amongst the shuffle of passengers. All of the shoujo-ai you had read in your lives could not have prepared you for this moment. K-Kabedon?! The internal screaming upon your heart, shattered your brain. Short circuited all thought presses, blissfully unaware of the growing wrath that seethed beneath you alongside the ding of the train doors. Foreboding, and impending the girl before you descent to the platform. The rattle of her skirt hiked up, the rack of your form pressed into her. Old men that chuckled as they rushed to their offices; college students that lingered far longer than you’d prefer. Prayed that none of the snickers, utilized cellphone cameras, nor instilled this moment for later purposes. The rattle of your heart, the spread of her hair beneath you despite the obvious seething wrath that immolated across her doll like features. The green strands of her hair that coiled beneath her, the scathing glower that caught amongst your own. The scream of fury that threatened the cull of her throat, quivered her bones as the veins began to pop in her forehead, only furthered by your insufferable, incoherent apologies. Fumbled over your belongings. Snagged your bag, shoved your glasses up the bridge of your nose, and retreated.

If there was a god, he was laughing. Delighting in your misery. Savoring the anguish, ignored the prayers you uttered in horrified internal screaming, begging him to allow the earth to swallow you whole as your teacher stood before you. Ignorant to your obvious apparel, all bartering from your swearing off meat to joining a nunnery intentionally ignored for sheer folly. No, no god must be a woman, it was the only explanation to the sight before you. Aoki-sensei’s clueless smile, eyes shut, and proud of his own suggestion. Tutoring, assisting another student’s preparation for college exams, and the very subject before you. D-daki, he had said with such delight upon introducing her. Absolutely blind to the turbulent forces that circled around him. The coil of a viper posed and agitated. Her green eyes flaring the grit of her teeth. The small slip of her canines against pursed rouged lips. Her freshly manicured nails rapped against the desk before digging into the wood grain. Twitching eyebrows, wrinkled nose, as the green mamba hissed, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

              No, no it appears not.

              Who says that the gods do not have a sense of humor?

It had been a few weeks of—could you really call this studying? Any attempt to navigate course material fell on deaf ears. Was muddled by the click of her nails against the desk, the pop of bubblegum, or the occasional flip of a fashion magazine. The evidence of her bubbling rage at each pointed glare she shot you when you attempted to stutter for her attention. The break of your voice, a higher pitch due to your duress than you’d like to admit, and yet despite the notable hostility, she had continued to attend the— “study” sessions. Her irritability having reached an all time high today as her bubblegum popped, the twitch of her lip-enhancer glossed lips quipped with the wrinkle of her nose. The vein in her head practically throbbing with each nervous fumble you could conjure. The chalk practically shaking in your hand as you attempted to demonstrate the proper algebraic equation. The searing lesions her vision threatened to brand into your back as the chalk nervously rattled against the chalkboard. An incomprehensible tapped scribble as you forced an awkward smile, attempting to find your voice. The cup of your hair cut off at your ears and utilizing the opportunity to press up your glasses in an attempt to avoid her eye. Each movement betraying your nervousness had only tempted her ire. The dodged glances when Daki sought your gaze, frail voice that lacked any resolve. She had even witnessed your knees clatter against one another, the height of her panty hose unable to shield the obvious state of tremors that rolled up your spine every time she watched your back diligently scribble incomprehensible. A flush guaranteed to kidnap your fatures, and your gaze from her own when the taller girl successfully met your gaze—what fucking help were you supposed to be to her?

              You couldn’t even help your fucking self.

              The knot of a mocked sticker—an immature attempt at humor from one of your female classmates that had escaped your notice. Successfully implemented when she had patted you on the shoulder before your tutoring session had begun, the smug grin and how boldly the little bitch had met Daki’s eyes had been enough to piss her off, but met face to face with the rainbow flag and homophobic slur stickered  to your collar had her boiling. The grip of her magazine crumbled between clenched fists; she had attempted to remove it. She had, but ever action had a reaction. Her close proximity regardless of how perfectly timed, or well intended, resulted in you trembling and babbling. It only pissed her off more. How were YOU supposed to help her? With your little insult sticker, and inability to even make eye contact—fuck how pathetic must she be to seek your HELP? The thought had dropped her brows to the point that they dipped at her enhanced eyelashes, threatened to simmer over as though she were a neglected pot. She could feel her temper boil, and her teeth scrapping against one another before she allowed it to steer her.

              “What the fuck is your problem?” Daki seethed, slamming her hands to her desk, forcing her chair back in a rattling screech of her chair across the floor. Tremored your bones and drew your attention to her in shock worthy of some B horror film. The click of her school issue indoor shoes clapped harder and harder with each step forward, as you attempted to position the podium between the two of you. “Are you screwing with me? Pisses me off seeing you worm around like this?”

              Manicured nails caught the collar of your school uniform, her height foreboding against your own as she leaned forward. Daring your averted eyes to catch her own, pressing her gaze against you as the vein in her forehead threatened to burst the longer, she glowered at you. The clench of her canine teeth against one another before shoving you from her sight. Exasperated pursed rogued lips that grunted dissatisfaction with your response, “Whatever, I don’t need this.”  Daki’s absence in the classroom marked only by the quite of an abandoned lecture, the most peculiar sticker discarded in the trash on her way out, and the sinking pit in your stomach that something, something was wrong.

[rickie-the-storyteller]

Writing Share Tag

Thank you to @kaylinalexanderbooks for tagging me!

Rules: Post some writing.

Recently added more to the childhood flashback in Untitled Teen Romcom. I'll post what I've got here:

Miss Jackson found me by the coat pegs, which only added to my embarrassment…but it turned out alright in the end. Here’s how it went down. So, after what felt like an eternity of uncontrollable sobbing, I heard her approaching footsteps. I tried to compose myself, wiping the tears and snot from my face with my sleeve. But it was too late.

“Ezekiel? What's the matter?” she asked, her warm voice laced with concern as she crouched down beside me.

I just shook my head, too embarrassed to speak. Miss Jackson pulled me into a gentle hug, letting me cry into her shoulder for a few moments before pulling back.

“Did something happen during lunchtime?” she prodded gently.

I nodded, the humiliation washing over me again. “I...I asked Hope Kamani to marry me,” I choked out between sniffles. “I just wanted to tell her that I liked her. But she just laughed at me in front of everyone! They all laughed!”

Miss Jackson's eyes widened briefly before her expression softened. “Oh Ezekiel, I'm so sorry that happened to you. She shouldn't have reacted that way, but I promise it will get better.”

“No it won't!” I cried petulantly. “She hates me! She probably thinks I'm a stupid baby.”

“You are not stupid or a baby,” Miss Jackson said firmly. “You are one of the brightest, kindest boys I know. And if others like Hope can't see that, then that's their loss.”

Hearing this made me smile. I don’t know if her words fully convinced me, but they did touch my heart. I guess I just appreciated her trying to make me feel better. To this day, this comment from Miss Jackson stuck with me for this specific reason. I think people just like knowing that they are cared for and that they aren’t alone. 

After lunch was done, and everyone in our class started to head back inside, Sebastian caught up with me. 

"Zeke!” he called, rushing towards me. I noticed that his usual smile was replaced with a look of genuine concern.

I tried to smile back, although it probably wasn’t all that convincing (my eyes were still filling up with fresh tears, after all). “Hey, Seb.”

“There you are, mate. Are you okay?”

I shook my head dismally. Seb sighed, and put his arm around my shoulders as we headed away from my little hiding place at the coat pegs. Once settled on the reading rug, he grabbed a bucket of LEGOs, pouring a ton of the colourful plastic bricks on the floor in front of us. 

“Don't worry about Hope, Zeke,” he said definitively. “We're gonna spend the rest of the day building the sickest spaceships and you’re going to forget all about her!”

I snorted. “Who needs a wife when you have a LEGO spaceship?”

“Exactly! You get it.”

As we started constructing our LEGO creations, I slowly felt the sting of rejection and embarrassment start to dull. With Miss Jackson's reassurance and my best friend by my side, the afternoon didn't seem quite so bleak anymore. Maybe one day the whole fiasco would be something we could laugh about - but for now, I was content just trying to lose myself in the uncomplicated joys of childhood alongside Sebastian. Women would forever remain a mystery, but at least I had my LEGOs. And Seb.

I tried my best to push Hope and her hurtful laughter from my mind, and focus on my building. It worked for a while, but then we got interrupted by Eshe.

“There you are!” she exclaimed, rushing over to us. “I've been looking everywhere for you two.”

Sebastian barely looked up from the impressive spaceship he was constructing. “We're right here, Eshe. As you can see.”

She rolled her eyes at his nonchalance. “Well duh, I can see that now. But I didn't know where you both ran off to after...you know.” Her eyes flickered over to me hesitantly.

My cheeks burned at the reminder of my humiliation. But then another awful thought slipped into my mind… I suddenly remembered with a sinking feeling that Eshe was one of Hope's closest friends. Of course, she was going to take her side and not mine. Of course! 

“What do you want, Eshe?” I asked, unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice.

She seemed to sense my hostility and raised her hands defensively. “Easy, tiger. I come in peace.” She plopped down gracefully beside us, sweeping her pigtails over her shoulder. I had to admit, despite her annoying bossy attitude, Eshe always looked impeccably put together thanks to her tireless efforts at reinventing her appearance. Today's ensemble featured our school’s summer uniform (a green and white chequered dress for the girls, if I recall correctly), a grey cardigan, pigtails adorned with bright pink bows, and her favourite shiny black mary janes. Classic Eshe.

“Look,” she began, turning her big brown eyes on me earnestly. “I just wanted to say I'm really sorry about what happened at lunch. With Hope, I mean.”

I shrugged one shoulder sulkily, keeping my eyes trained on the LEGO tower I was half-heartedly assembling (since I’m pretty sure I had given up on building a spaceship at this point. I wasn’t as good with LEGO as Seb was back then).

“Hope totally overreacted,” Eshe continued. “I prepped her all morning like you asked, making sure her hair looked perfect and everything.” 

“I never asked you to do that, Eshe,” I said, still refusing to look in her general direction. “Your job was to distract her so she didn’t find out about it. That’s all.”

“Whatever, Zeke. You have to understand, though, she's just...not great with feelings and emotional stuff,” she explained. “She handles it badly sometimes.”

“That's no excuse to be so mean!” I burst out, finally meeting Eshe's gaze fiercely. “What's so funny about what I said to her? Why did she have to laugh at me like that?”

Eshe patted my arm consolingly. “You're absolutely right, it wasn't funny at all. Hope was way out of line. I already told her off about it, and she does feel bad now. Give her a chance to apologise later, yeah?”

I highly doubted the great Hope Kamani would lower herself to apologise to a loser like me. I opened my mouth to say as much, but Sebastian cut me off.

“Just leave it, Eshe. Thanks for the apology, but Zeke doesn't need any more Hope crap today.”

He shot her a rare scathing look. I couldn't help but feel a swell of gratitude toward my best friend for sticking up for me against one of Hope's formidable girl squad.

Eshe looked mildly taken aback by Sebastian's uncharacteristic sharpness, but recovered quickly with a resigned shrug. "Suit yourselves, I guess. I'll let Hope know you both need space."

With that, she rose gracefully and flounced off to the other side of the room, where the costume cupboard was (where Hope and her other friends always liked playing together. Eshe’s favourite costume there was the yellow Beauty and the Beast dress… she was a huge Belle fan growing up). It’s, leaving an awkward silence in her wake. Seb was the first to break it.

“Can you believe that one?” he muttered, shaking his head. “She acts like Hope's the queen and we should all be grateful for her laying down the law.”

I snorted derisively. “I know, right? That whole crew has gotten way too big for their boots if you ask me.”

Hope had an extensive entourage. Here was her inner circle during primary school:

Eshe Brown (duh)

Tanaka Okada - effortlessly cool Japanese girl who always looks like she'd just stepped out of a photo shoot (she doesn't go to our secondary school, but she and Hope are still friends and they hang out to this day. So I've seen her around, and she's also active on social media. And let me tell you - she hasn't changed a bit. Make of that what you will)

Layla Abbas - wealthy Lebanese chick whose family owned this online store where you could get these really nice, spacious backpacks (other stuff, too, but I mainly go there for the backpacks. Unlike Tanaka, Layla moved to the same secondary school as us, so I see her much more often. She too has a really trendy and really pricy taste in fashion, often rocking the latest designer clothes)

Indy Sandhu - probably the most uniquely stylish of the bunch with her edgy mix of vintage and modern looks (Jacob also had a huge crush on her in Year 4. Which I totally get! She's cool. I think I like her style most. She too is in our secondary school)

They all seemed to revolve around Hope, gobbling up her undivided attention and approval like it was oxygen. It was baffling to me how a group of girls who were all so cool and stylish in their own right seemed to defer to Hope as the shining example to emulate. Not that I could pretend to understand the mind of a female at this point. Most of the boys in our class steered well clear of that crew, content to steer clear of the dramas and complexities of the girl world. Let them do their thing, while we did ours. As long as Hope's clique kept their silliness contained, we were more than happy to leave them to it. Still, I couldn't resist a derisive snort as I pictured the five of them strutting around the playground, heads held high, strutting like they were on a catwalk. The unwavering confidence, the addiction to attention and obsession with their appearances, the mind-boggling ability to make even 5-year-old boys feel small and inadequate – it was all so bewildering and, frankly, exhausting. I couldn’t stand any of them.

“I don't get what the big deal is about that whole group,” I groused to Sebastian. “They just seem like a bunch of meanies to me.”

Seb considered this for a moment before responding. “I mean, you're not wrong, mate. But you also can't deny that Hope and her girl squad have, like...I dunno...an inexplicable cool factor going on.”

I pulled a face, not enjoying the reminder that even my best friend was somewhat in awe of Hope's powerful effect. He must have noticed my scepticism, because he was quick to continue.

“Don't get me wrong, Hope was way out of line at lunch. And you're probably right that the rest of them are just as bad. But you can't deny there's just something...magnetic about them? Like a group of really attractive baby swans that you can't tear your eyes away from, even though you know they'll probably bite your head off if you get too close to them.”

I rolled my eyes at the bizarre analogy, but I had to grudgingly admit there was a hint of truth to what he was saying. For whatever reason, Hope and her crew just seemed to command a certain gravity that drew others in helplessly, even when they were nasty pieces of work.

As I mulled this over, Miss Jackson reappeared carrying a stack of our favourite books. Sebastian and I exchanged a look, a silent agreement to shake off the matter of Hope and her lackeys for now. We could ponder the mystifying forces of femininity another time. For the rest of the afternoon, I allowed myself to become immersed in the simple worlds within those book pages, surrounded by the easy camaraderie of reading with my best friend and favourite teacher (at the time). If I couldn't quite rid my mind of Hope completely, at least I was able to stuff her into a tiny box and tuck her away in the recesses of my brain for now at least.

Unfortunately, this didn’t last too long. By the time my mum had come to take me home, I was all upset again. I don’t know what it was… Maybe it was because I knew I had to face her again the next day. Maybe it was because it had been a few hours since the rejection had happened, and the realisation of what had happened was starting to sink in. Maybe it was the fact that she got out of this situation all fine and dandy while here I was in complete and utter despair (my gosh, I was so dramatic back then). I mean, she’s still popular and beloved by everyone, while I went from being an awkward but well liked guy in our class to a total laughing stock. All because of her.

I was just silently stewing on all of this during the ride home. My poor mother must have been so worried… I mean, I’m never quiet in the car. Back then, I was rarely quiet period. Like I said before, 5-year-old Zeke did everything loudly. Unless I was mad, apparently.

“Hey, sweetie,” my mum said gently, breaking the silence as she started the car and started the journey home. “How was school today?”

I sighed heavily, unsure of how to respond. Should I tell her about what happened with Hope? Would she even understand, or would she just brush it off as childish drama as she so frequently did with my problems back then? 

“It was okay, Mummy,” I muttered finally, opting for a vague answer.

My mum glanced over at me, concern etched into her features. “You seem a bit down, Zeke. Is everything alright?”

“Nothing happened. I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine, darling.”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Mummy.”

“So something did happen, then.”

Oops.

“No!”

“What’s going on, Zeke?” Mum asked. “Was somebody mean to you?”

I felt like crying again. I didn’t, though - all I said was, “I said that I don’t want to talk about it!”

“Honey, why not? You know you can tell Mummy anything.”

Not even the slightest bit true, not then or even now, but OK, Mum (look, I love my mum a lot, OK? Don’t get me wrong. But there are a vast list of things I would never even think of saying to her that I would say to other people. Parental relationships are different from friendships, and there are things I would share with my friends that I wouldn’t really want to share with family. And vice versa. But maybe that’s just me). I stayed mute for a while, chewing my trembling lip hard enough to draw blood as the cruel memory replayed on a torturous loop in my mind. For a moment, I almost wanted to say something. But at the very last second, I decided against it.

“I just want some peace and quiet right now, Mummy,” I eventually mumbled. “Can we just not talk until we get home?”

“Okay, sweetie,” my mum replied, her tone gentle but concerned. She reached over and squeezed my hand briefly before returning her focus to the road. For the rest of the drive, there was no more sound but the humming of the car as it moved through familiar roads and streets.

All the while, all I did was replay the whole thing in my mind. The sheer mortification of having my heartfelt proposal so utterly rejected by Hope in front of the entire class. Her mocking laughter slicing through me like shards of broken glass. The pain. The shame. The humiliation. All of it was stirring inside me, curdling into rage.

At that moment, with angry tears beginning to sting my eyes again, I decided that if she was going to be mean to me, then I'd be mean right back. See how she likes it. So I did the only thing a hurt 5-year-old kid could think of - I started a nasty rumour about her as payback.

Childish, I know. But in my defence, I was a child.

The next morning, I knew exactly what to do. I woke up with a sense of purpose for the first time in my entire life, probably. I was eager - nay, determined - to show Hope her place… but once I got into class, I could barely look at Hope without feeling that searing humiliation all over again. I tried my best to avoid her at first, sticking close to Sebastian and the other boys during morning drop-off.

“You alright, mate?” Seb asked, no doubt picking up on my sullen mood.

I shook my head mutely, not trusting myself to speak without my voice cracking. The hurt was still so fresh and raw. Which kind of made me mad… why are my stupid feelings getting in the way of my mission?

Jacob, ever the instigator, piped up. “What's wrong, Zeke? Still thinking about yesterday’s adventures with the wicked witch?”

A few of the other boys sniggered at his not-so-subtle nickname for Hope. I managed a small smile, grateful for Jake’s attempt at lightening the mood.

“It’s not fair that she gets to laugh at me and humiliate me like she did yesterday and get away with it,” I grumbled.

“Oh, you know what we should do?” Jacob piped up again. “Prank her! Let’s put a bucket of slime over the door for when she walks in," Jacob continued with a mischievous grin. "That'll teach her!”

We laughed at that one, too. Realistically, though, it wasn’t the best idea. I mean, what if someone else got soaked in the slime instead of her? I didn’t want to risk harming some innocent individual or getting myself in serious trouble. All I want is for Hope to be embarrassed.

“I have a better idea. You know what we’re going to do?”

“What?” Seb asked.

A devilish grin spread across my face. “We're going to spread a rumour that Hope doesn't shower!”

Silence for a second. Then, Jacob burst out laughing at me (damn, Jake. I thought we were friends, man). “Lame!” he cried out (I mean… I guess he wasn’t wrong).

Seb seemed conflicted on the matter. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, mate,” he muttered. 

“Sure it is!” I exclaimed. “She'll be stinky and gross and no one will want to play with her! It’s the perfect plan.”

“I mean, what good will that do?” Seb asked. “Hope is just a kid like us. And Eshe said that she felt bad about it, right? Seems kind of mean to me…”

I was having none of that today. “So?! She humiliated me and broke my heart! This is what she deserves.”

Seb sighed. “Well, when you put it like that…”

“Right. I’m glad you agree. So here’s the plan…”

I had mulled over this plan all of last evening. I had every detail down and I was prepared to share it with the boys. Once I was done, Sebastian still looked unsure, but the thought of retaliating against Hope's cruelty quickly won the rest of the bros over. By midday, the “Hope doesn't shower” rumour was spreading like wildfire through our reception class, thanks to me and the boys. Everything worked out perfectly.

It was perfect… at least, I thought it was. Anytime she walked by, I could hear the hushed giggles and whispers.

“Ew, you smell that?”

“It's probably just Hope again.”

“Gross! She seriously needs to start using soap…”

At first, I felt a rush of vindictive satisfaction watching her beloved popularity get torn down. This was the retribution she deserved after publicly humiliating me the way she did. 

But then I started to feel...weird about it. Like, a part of me felt kind of bad. Which was ridiculous - she had this coming, right? She broke my heart into a million pieces and laughed in my face. So why was I feeling even an ounce of regret about giving her a taste of her own medicine?

I tried to shake it off as I spotted Hope across the room, wearing a confused frown as a group of girls not-so-subtly pinched their noses and turned away from her. Instead of laughing at her misfortune like I thought I would, my stomach twisted uncomfortably.

This is what you wanted, isn't it Zeke? I scolded myself sternly. Don't go feeling sorry for the mean girl now!

But the guilt persisted, gnawing away at me. Until finally, I overheard an interaction that instantly made me feel better about the whole thing:

“Ugh, did someone like… not shower this morning?” Layla Abbas' imperious voice rang out loud and clear.

Hope's eyes widened in distress. “What?! No, I definitely showered, I’m super hygienic!”

“Are you sure?” Tanaka chimed in with a look of poorly concealed disgust. “Because no offence, but you kind of stink.”

“I don't stink! I shower every night before bed,” Hope insisted, her bottom lip trembling as a flush crept up her cheeks. “I even put on Mummy’s perfume and everything!"

The other girls all shared looks and shrugged, clearly not believing her protestations of cleanliness. With that, they got up and flounced off, leaving Hope behind looking utterly bewildered and embarrassed.

I couldn't help it - I let out a huge bark of laughter at the sight. Okay, this was definitely what she deserved! Any lingering feelings of regret instantly dissipated. Say what you want about Hope’s girl squad, but they have the most fire insults.

Take that, Hope! I thought triumphantly. See how it feels to be the one getting laughed at for once?

Of course, my loud laughter drew her attention immediately. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously as they landed on me.

“EZEKIEL COLEMAN!” She marched right over, her little hands planted firmly on her hips. “Did you have something to do with this?”

I blinked innocently up at her. “With what?”

"Don't play dumb!" She snapped. “This is your doing, isn’t it? You're the one behind this stupid rumour about me not showering!”

I smirked, not even bothering to deny it at this point. “So what if I am? You had it coming after yesterday.”

Her eyes widened, seemingly stunned that I was admitting to it so brazenly. “I...I can't believe you!” She sputtered. “That's so mean!”

“Oh, you mean like how you laughed at and humiliated me in front of everyone yesterday?” I countered, getting to my feet so I could look her square in the eye. “What you did to me was way meaner!”

“Th-That's different!” Hope protested, though the words lacked conviction. I think she could see the holes in her logic.

“Whatever, Kamani,” I said with an eyeroll, turning away from her dismissively. “Deal with it. It's just a stupid rumour anyway.”

“You’re seriously doing this because you’re mad that I laughed at your stupid proposal?!”

“It wasn’t stupid, Hope,” I replied, voice cracking a bit despite my best efforts to sound all put together (Kamani had that effect on me back then. I’ve mostly grown out of that too, thank God). “I put a lot of thought and time into it, just to be laughed at and humiliated by you and everyone else in the class.”

“I thought you were messing around!” Hope protested. “I seriously thought you were trying to be like one of those bachelor guys on TV, acting all mushy and all. I thought you were playing, I didn’t think you were being for real!”

At that point, I was like, no way! You know about the bachelor shows on the telly too?! Maybe she watches with her mum as well. That’s something we have in common!

Just to be clear, I was thinking that... I didn't say any of that out loud.

But thinking about it now, it’s all so interesting to me how much I didn’t see back then that I do now. She laughed at me because she thought I was kidding. Huh. Assuming that this is all true, maybe Eshe was right about Hope genuinely feeling bad and not being good at handling emotional stuff… Either way, I had found a connection. Something to bridge the gap. I almost began to feel bad again. Almost. 

“Well, there’s nothing I can do about it now,” I simply said.

“Really?! That’s it?”

I shrugged. What did she want me to do? Apologise? I’m not THAT sorry. Plus, she didn’t apologise to me, so…

I could practically feel the waves of anger radiating off her. Her next words were practically a snarl: “You're going to be sorry for this, Ezekiel. I’m telling on you.”

With that, she stomped off in the direction of our teacher's desk, looking every bit the disgruntled five-year-old she was at that moment. I just laughed again, feeling utterly free of the guilt and conflict that had plagued me earlier. As far as I was concerned, Hope Kamani absolutely deserved everything she was getting. I didn't care if it made me look like the bad guy… she started it.

END OF EXCERPT.

This is even longer than the last one... sorry if that's annoying lol. I just really like the flashbacks. I like writing these characters as young children. It's cool to see how much they've grown in the present tense (as well as how much they haven't really changed at all lol).

Tagging: @ibuprofen-exe, @jay-avian, @mysticstarlightduck, @jay-avian, @winterandwords,

@space-writes, @bookish-karina, @clairelsonao3, @theeccentricraven and @sam-glade

[silvermoon-scrolls]

Catsitting

Prompt: "Catsitting for Dawn" for Britchell Contribution Fest 2024 Pairing: Anders Johnson/John Mitchell Rating: Teen Content warning: Mention of blood Words: 800

Read on AO3

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“Ow! She bit me! The little shit bit me!” Anders shook his offended finger before wrapping his other hand around it and glared at the fluffy, gray-speckled kitten in his lap. She meowed. In a very non-apologetic way, Anders thought.

“If you don’t want to get bitten, you should stop trying to tickle her belly,” Mitchell called from the kitchen area.

They had offered to watch Dawn’s newly adopted kitten while Dawn was running some quick errands. Well, Mitchell had offered – ecstatically – but it was Anders’ lap that the furball had somehow taken a permanent residence in.

He gave the cat one last offended glare before uncurling his hand and inspecting his finger. A tiny bead of blood appeared. Really, it was nothing, but the sight of the blood still made Anders feel queasy and he grimaced in distaste. You would think that having a vampire for a partner would have cured him of his squeamishness for blood, but no.

Mitchell appeared by his side. “We need to clean that.”

“With alcohol?” Anders asked, casting an optimistic glance at the liquor cabinet.

Mitchell gave him an amused smile. “Water and soap is enough.” He sat down on the couch next to Anders and placed a box of bandaids and a small bowl of water on the coffee table.

“Pity.”

As Mitchell took Anders’ hand in his and used a wetted cloth to clean the small bite, Dusk – the kitten – began to once again meow for attention. When she didn’t get it she instead found a worthy adversary in Anders' tie, repeatedly swiping at it with her little paws and almost falling out of Anders’ lap in an attempt to jump tackle it. Anders used his good hand to keep her from tumbling over but he made sure to keep his fingers away from her sharp, pointy bits.

Having finished his more than thorough cleaning, Mitchell reluctantly let go of the hand. The bleeding had stopped, but he could still smell the fresh blood. It called to him. The pulsating sound of Anders’ heartbeat resonated inside him.

He pushed back the urge. “There, all done. But you need to watch out for any signs of infection. When did you last have a tetanus shot?” He busied himself with fumbling out a bandaid from the packaging.

The vampire’s dilated pupils hadn’t gone unnoticed by Anders. He smiled sinfully. Too bad about Mitchell’s impressive restraint. After all, there should be plenty of time for a little fun before Dawn came back, he thought – his squeamishness for blood all but forgotten in the face of a quick tumble on the couch. But his mother-hen of a partner had instead elected to give all his focus to wrapping up the finger with a perfectly placed bandaid. “How did you become such an expert on wound care,” Anders commented with a teasingly raised eyebrow, but with a smile that hopefully conveyed that it wasn’t entirely unpleasant to be looked after – no matter the size of the injury.

Mitchell returned an appreciative smile. “I suppose when you've worked in a hospital for a while you're bound to pick up on a thing or two.”

“Right. I forgot. Lucky me – a sexy vampire, and a hot nurse – in one handy package.” Anders’ smile widened into a grin and he leaned in to steal a kiss from the object of his fantasies. But before he reached his goal he abruptly cried out in alarm when several cat claws pricked his skin in rapid succession.

Apparently tired of being ignored, Dusk was climbing up his shirtfront. Anders cursed as he tried but failed to get a hold of the little monster. Despite her claws catching on the fabric and his skin alike, her agile, little form kept slipping through his fingers as soon as he got her loose, and soon she had managed to get herself all the way up to perch atop his shoulder, sounding mighty proud of herself.

Anders glared at Mitchell who was making no attempts to hide his laughter. Ignoring him, Anders made a new attempt to grab hold of the persistent kitten – without getting his skin shredded. But before he could get a good grip the little cat had folded her legs under her and nuzzled her forehead into the crook of Anders’ neck. Her purring stopped Anders in his tracks.

Anders’ shocked expression made Mitchell laugh all the harder. Calming himself down, he wiped away a tear from the corner of his eye. “I should watch out. Looks like I got competition for your affections,” he commented happily.With a sigh, Anders resigned to pet the contented furball where she was. “You should worry,” he said, giving Mitchell a smug grin. “At least when she bites me it is a little easier to explain the bitemarks.”

~

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated ❤️