#today i bring you this. in 10 minutes? who knows

[kentoxo]

friction | reader (f) x crush!nanami pt. 11

pairing: reader (f) x crush!nanami

synopsis: [AU] you have always had a crush on nanami. since the day you were hired as his personal assistant, you've been right at his side combating numbers and making money within the finance department for the company you two worked for. but, things take a turn when nanami catches wind of your feelings, and rejects you. little did he know the weight of his mistake.

warnings: angst, heartbreak, sexual tension, jealousy (future smut)

a/n: i have returned with another, not-so-interesting part. i apologize to those who might have asked to be tagged previously, i *think* i have everyone now! but again, pls feel free to yell at me in my askbox if i didnt get you! the next part is gonna be way more fun, promise :) trying to bring in more of our jjk favs (including our baby boy toru)

all parts: pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, pt.4, pt.5, pt.6, pt.7, pt.8, pt.9, pt.10,

December | Tokyo, Japan | Monday

“Kento, are you stupid or dumb?” Haibara coldly spits through the phone. “You have what, like 5 days? My god, where is your brain dude?” 

“I’m a businessman,” Nanami responds, with shaky sighs escaping from between his lips as he enters the lobby of their job. “I made a deal, and she accepted the terms. When have I ever lost a deal?” 

“This all could have been avoided if you just said the other shit you told me,” Haibara groaned. “How she’s pretty, and the way you are able to open up to her.” 

Nanami lets out his own sigh, as his friend was probably right. “She… made me nervous. I only know how to be professional and talk in working terms. I’m not good at anything else.” 

“And now she’s pissed off, so fantastic work, Head of Department,” Haibara says before sucking his teeth. 

Nanami walks into the elevator, one hand buried in his pocket while the other holding his phone tiredly at his ear. A few other colleagues enter, giving Nanami a curt bow before pressing their floor button. “Is she in yet, by the way?” Nanami asks, a twinge of optimism in his tongue. 

“Of course she is,” Haibara hummed, the sounds of papers being sifted in the background. “She even asked for me to get your cup of coffee since she’s in a meeting right now.” 

Nanami’s eyebrow raised, “meeting?” 

Haibara murmurs a ‘hold on,’ the only sound to be heard was Haibara walking past several cubicles and work conversations. After finding a quiet place, Haibara brings the phone close to his mouth while cupping it with his other hand, “she’s in a meeting with shacho. ‘m not sure what it’s about, but he went to her desk the moment she clocked in.” 

What? “Did it seem like she was in trouble?” Nanami questions, his heart skipping a beat or two. 

Haibara shrugs, “‘m not sure, but I think it has to do with her promotion. Shacho mentioned it during the client lunch the other day, remember?” 

“That’s right,” Nanami lets out slowly, recalling that day in his head. That day, your usually tidy hair had a small lock of it sticking out from behind your ear. That same day is why Nanami wishes for hindsight almost constantly. “I wonder…” 

“Right?” Haibara whispers curiously. “Whatever promotion she gets, she earned it for sure.” 

The elevator doors open, and Nanami quickly rushes into the office. “Meet me in front of Takada shacho’s office.” 

“Give me a few minutes, and I’ll be right there!” Haibara calls out. Nanami turns around to see his dark-haired partner behind him, sheepishly waving his phone in the air. Nanami hangs up and walks up to him, curious of his intentions. “You’re gonna owe me about $150 after this.” 

Nanami looks around before getting close to Haibara’s. A few strands of blond hair escape Nanami’s usually kempt hair. “What the hell did you buy?” He whispers, practically hisses. 

Albeit his nerves, Haibara looks up at him with a smirk, “when have I ever let you down, Kento?” 

“Never, but you best not start today,” Nanami growls, pulling away before making a quick stride over to Takada’s office. 

As he did, he noticed many of his colleagues peer curiously from their cubicle over to Takada’s office as well, with other eyes peering at your own desk for your return. A sea of whispers then started to surround Nanami as everyone noticed his arrival. Quiet, respectful greetings and curt bows create the aura around him as Nanami nods in acknowledgement. It was all just too curious for Nanami, as he felt the itch to know what he didn’t. 

But he could swear his eyes were deceiving him when he saw the backs of both Geto and Ieiri. 

“Geto, Ieiri,” Nanami addresses them in a firm, yet soft tone. 

Geto is first to turn, his long raven hair flowing from his movement. He usually had the top part of his hair bunned, but he decided to let his entire mane out today. Peculiar, Nanami mentally noted. It was also peculiar that Geto himself had a large bouquet of winter white lilies. “Kento,” Geto begins, a warm yet deceitful smile is pulled from each end of his lips. He offers his free hand, in which Nanami reluctantly shakes. 

Nanami has no issues with Geto, of course. All of them went to school together, Shoko and Haibara included. There has never been, and will never be, any beef between the two gentlemen. Of course, Nanami felt hesitant with him now, considering Geto hired you initially, and you were now under Nanami. There was a sudden and inexplicable feeling within the hazel-eyed man. Nanami was… nervous. 

Geto’s obsidian orbs weren’t helping with that, either. 

“Why so formal?” Ieiri sounded from his right side, pulling him out of his locked gaze with Geto. Nanami snatches his hand back, and quickly offers it to Ieiri, who teasingly just shakes the tips of his fingers. Her free hand held a small red box with a gold ribbon tied around it. “It’s been a little while, Kento. You never come up to visit.” 

“It’s because I work,” Nanami hums, letting her hand go to shove both his hands in his pockets. He needed some sort of solid ground, and his pockets felt safe. “And so do you both, considering we’re all department heads here.” 

“That we are,” Geto hums, “it has been quite crazy in Legal, considering how many clients the both of you have been pulling in.” 

Ieiri stows away a lock of her auburn hair behind her ear, gently lowering the cigarette she had hidden. “Sales has been quite crazy,” Ieiri said slowly, “hence why I’m down here. ‘m looking for my girl that you snatched from me.” 

Nanami squints his eyes, staring Ieiri down. But after realizing her words, his eyes slightly widened, “do you, by any chance, know what her promotion is about then?” He looks over at Geto as well, silently extending that question to him. 

Ieiri widened her eyes in confusion, with Geto raising his eyebrow in curiosity. “You… don’t know?” Geto asks, each word burned off his tongue in humor. 

Nanami was annoyed from not knowing, “I don’t if I’m asking. Why would I know?”

Ieiri taps at her bottom lip with the tip of her index, “well, you are her manager. You’d be the one that Takada shacho would talk to regarding Y/N’s growth within the company.” 

It did raise curiosity that Takada would mention Y/N’s promotion aloud in front of him and clients that have no relevance. But, Nanami did have some expectation to talk about your future promotion with Takada, whatever that would pertain. It felt somewhat like betrayal, considering how much Takada confided in him. Nanami could only hope it was with right intentions that he was not included in his assistant's promotion. 

“I have no say in how he makes his decisions,” Nanami’s eyes narrow at the door before them. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes to calm his nerves. “I can only hope it is a promotion that is to her liking.” 

“I can give you a hint if you want,” Ieiri teases with a toothy grin. Geto clutches the bouquet a little tighter as she piques Nanami’s interest. He looks over to her, noticing her adjusting her long, black dress. She pulls off pieces of lint, torturing him purposely with the wait. “I heard a rumor that… this promotion is a role that is above all of ours.” 

Nanami, at the moment, was beyond proud of you. He couldn’t even conceal his smile, feeling pangs of excitement in his heart. He was glad that you were seen exactly the way he sees you. Intelligent, capable, overachieving, and approachable. You work with such grace, and exude so much warmth as a person. You getting promoted to a position much greater than his is truly an honor. He was lucky to have a small role in your success, if you considered his significance. 

“But supposedly she will still reside within one of our departments,” Geto hums quietly. Nanami gives him a look, but Geto shrugs, “that’s all I know.” 

Nanami’s smile calmed, “I don’t see the need for her to transfer out of Finance, though.” 

“Is that right?” Geto questions with a smirk. “You have your department completely sorted, besides how nosey they are.” The three heads look back to see all of his colleagues eye them like fish, having them awkwardly turn back to their work. “What help is needed here?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Nanami replies, an accidental hint of offense weaved in his words. “Just know that her skill set would be best utilized and appreciated here.” 

Geto’s smirk still played tricks in Nanami’s head, “and yet she applied and was initially hired for Legal. She was first recognized and utilized for her skill set in the Legal Department.” 

“She clearly is a woman of many talents, considering her contribution to all of our departments,” Nanami points out. He adjusts his tie, and sweeps his hair back in a more tidy manner. “She has done wonders for my department, and I intend to keep her flourishing here.” 

“I hope you boys didn’t forget that I’m here, too,” Ieiri pipes in, slightly annoyed at being ignored. “Nonetheless, it’s not about us. It’s about where she would like to go, and where Takada shacho believes where her role would be best fit.” 

After her words, the three hear frantic running from behind. Nanami turns around to see two bouquets of white roses make their way towards them. They were large, almost the size of two small bedside tables. The person halts, with staggering breaths emitting from the bouquets. Nanami notices the hair just barely sticking out from the top and knew right away that it was his closest friend, Haibara. 

“Nanami,” Haibara spews simply, forcing the two bouquets into his arms. The scent of florals intoxicated Nanami’s nose as he looked over the bouquets at his exhausted friend. “Looks like.. I made it right on time,” he lets out through sporadic, heavy breaths. From the corner of Nanami’s eye, Geto looked slightly annoyed at the fact that he was slightly one-upped. 

Before Nanami could even express his gratitude, the click of an unlocking door sounded from behind him. They all look over to see Takada shacho with a wide smile. To his right, you stood there, your body completely stiff from nerves. Nanami could tell that, despite everything, you still looked at him with those eyes, finding some sort of solace in them. 

Takada jumped a bit, humored at the sight of 3 of his Head of Departments. “Well, good morning to you all,” their boss hums heartily. All of them, including Haibara, bow. “I haven’t seen you 3 together since last year's Holiday Party. The only person we’re missing here is Satoru.” 

Satoru Gojo, the Head of IT. 

Geto nods, “they’ve been quite busy since changing the system for our company hub.” 

Takada nods, “I need to go visit them soon. See if there’s any relief I can send to their department. Speaking of…” Takada then moves away from you and allows you the spotlight. “Everyone, please turn your attention here.” 

You felt your nerves right at your throat. Though this was a good thing, you were never a fan of being front and center of anything. You always had stage fright, surely since you were younger. Having the attention and eyes of many was something you could never get used to, even now in your adult life. Nanami could see you remaining frigid while expressing a sheepish smile. 

As Takada begins to congratulate you on your new role as Office Manager, Nanami quickly walks up to you and puts the two bouquets in your hand. Although it was sudden and the bouquets held some weight to them, it provided a shield from your fellow colleagues staring at you. Nobody questioned it as claps and quiet cheers erupted in the office. 

You noticed Nanami standing firmly to your side, smiling at everyone while gently nudging you with his arm. You look up at him, uncertainty glimmering in your eyes. He mouths a silent ‘congratulations’ with a very wide and proud smile. You knew he was going to ask you about it later, but right now, it felt nice to just get a simple praise. It was the one bit of calmness within the chaotic sounds of claps and praises. 

“I hope everyone can join me in wishing Y/N much luck in her deserved promotion,” Takada announces, causing the crowd to quiet down. Praises continued to stream, but you could barely pay attention as you stared up at Nanami’s hazel eyes. But you did get interrupted by Ieiri’s hand latching onto your forearm. You look ahead to meet the eyes of both of your previous bosses. 

While anxiously holding onto the bouquets, you quickly bowed before the both of them, “a-ah, Ieiri kacho, Geto kacho! It is wonderful to see you both!” 

“And we you, Y/L/N,” Geto hums with a soft tone. “Many congratulations on your promotion. May your transition be as perfect as your work ethic.” 

You bow once again, attempting to find calm in Haibara’s frantic thumbs up shaking in the background. “Thank you very much… I would have never been able to even get here without you, Geto kacho.” 

Geto emits a hearty laugh before grinning, “you said it first.” 

Ieiri promptly shoves him a bit, smiling down at you, “why don’t we all have celebratory breakfast?” Ieiri looks over at Takada with a pearly smile. “Can Y/N delay her work so she can celebrate her monumental accomplishment with us?” 

Takada smiles before nodding, “please, feel free to take your time. I’d love to join you all, but my entire schedule is booked with meetings. Enjoy in my absence. And again, congratulations, Y/N.” 

They all bow before Takada, who takes his leave back into his office. A brief silence ensues before Geto goes up to you and begins to take the bouquets from your arms. “A-ah, Geto kacho, you don’t have to,” you insist, attempting to keep them in your arms. “You are already carrying one yourself.” 

Before Geto could even advance, Nanami quickly holds your elbow and tilts you so you’d be facing him. Without another second, he takes back the two bouquets from your arms. “Let me carry them for you, Y/N kacho,” Nanami says quietly. 

Your heart melts. Your mind was going blank. You could vomit from excitement, anxiety, and enchantment from Nanami’s teasing. “Th-thank you, Nanami kacho,” you say shyly, feeling your cheeks erupt in heat. 

“I’m no longer your kacho,” Nanami quickly spews, “feel free to drop that honorific for me.” There was something brewing in those hazel eyes, and you were left to wonder what goes on behind those beautiful orbs.

Taglist (OPEN)

@blossomedfloweroflove @numblytemporary @everyoneandtheirmothers @animechick555 @inthedarkshadows000

@m-arj-1 @julk4e @hadassery @swoozleee @angxlsatvrn

@v1x3n @s-witch-bitch @furgusonn @watyousayin @thechaoticarchivist

@simp-manhwa @5sos-wdw @ffyona1214 @phantombaby @evangel44xxcds

@ukiyodestiny @jasminelee324 @eurydxceorphxus @moonlightazriel @s3rp3ntsssc0ve

@dusty-dweller @wifenanami @bokuatsubro @ayesayman @starry-eyed--dreamer

@gradmacoco @nymphsdomain @whatelsecouldgowrong @myynameisbuckyy @nanamjai

@a-sor @typicalchels @celestialzdiviner @satoru-is-the-way @sannieworshipper

@shibataimu

[buttercupblu]

Satoru's Psyche|Escalating

"Should I really have to suffer for my actions?"

Previous SessionSession 2 of 10|Next Session

🗂️Patient Chart Update: Patient Gojo displayed extremely flirtatious and unruly behavior during the first half of his visit. Mentions of escape and kid-napping were noted as well as enforced close proximity with his nurse. Threatening remarks were also made at the end of his lunch in response to mentions of disciplinary action. Patient is scheduled for a bath but is pending the possibility of negative punishment to instill corrective behaviors. 📋Length of Session (w.c): 8.1k out of "i said we will cross that bridge when we get to it 😊" 💊Intake Chart (tags): mild violence but no in-action descriptors, coercion, manipulation, drug use, angst, unwatched close contact and touch, nudity, mentally unstable Gojo, Nurse!Reader ✏️Doctor's angel’s note: i hope you know what you're doing, Nurse 🎼Waiting room music: Overheated|Billie Eilish

Choose wisely.

Hunger stirs in your tummy, and Gojo's words sit with you through lunch. Your spoon clinks around the bowl, stirring the soup growing colder by the second though the growls from your stomach are too obnoxious to be ignored. But your mind wanders.

You're stuck. Earlier, you were all for serving up justice on a silver platter, but now you're seriously second-guessing your "genius" idea to punish Gojo by making him someone else's problem.

As if anyone would be crazy enough to say yes.

Everyone already avoids his wing like the plague. It's kind of an unspoken fact that you are Gojo's one and only. The only staff he allows near him. Anyone else would be playing with fire.

And if someone was brave enough to willingly throw themselves into the lion's den, they definitely couldn't be new. New to nursing—new to the ward. High expertise was needed here. Someone seasoned—experience which you lacked yourself—otherwise, they wouldn't last a second with Gojo.

It'd be way too easy for him to make them snap, like tossing a bone to a dog.

"Persephone." Yuko brings you out of your coma.

You perk up, instinctively smiling. "Hey, what's up?"

"You tell me," she snorts. "You've been playing with your food like break isn't over in 10 minutes." She touches your arm. "Everything ok?"

It's written all over your face, huh? You could deflate right now.

This is why Yuko is your favorite co-worker. Always reading you like a book without you needing to say a word. Quick to call anything off out.

Leaning back in your chair, you huff, rubbing circles into your temples to relieve the headache you didn't know you had.

"Yeah, yeah," you begin, "It's just—" You stop, her eyes hold so much concern and you've barely opened your mouth. Not sure if you should now because you know what kind of person Yuko is.

And if she knew even half of what you don't tell her during your lunch breaks spent complaining about work, she'd hang Gojo out to dry if she could. She often makes it very clear she hates you have to deal with him at all.

"—I'm just a bit tired. Gojo's scheduled for a bath later, him and two others. Gojo's easy but...I don't know. I feel slower than usual today. Definitely won't get home until late, again, because of all these sponge baths." You cringe at the last part.

Aside from trying to keep Yuko cool, you also didn't want to risk the news getting back to the Director who could take you off of Gojo completely. No one else could take your place. And who knows what would happen if you disappeared from his roster for good?

How would his threats manifest?

Yuko scoffs, waving her hand.

"Gojo and easy do not go together," and you both shake your heads and laugh. "But I get it. You did come in super early."

"Thought there'd be less of us," you sigh.

"Sonya's been on our asses lately, right? But hey, she finally got us all here."

"A little too late. The damage is done," you pout, resting your elbows on the table, realizing you've accidentally grown used to chaos and ever-changing schedule.

You routinely plan ahead to make sure you can stand up when people fall short. Constantly putting yourself on the back burner seems to be a thing that always set you back.

"Sooo, you just need rest, ya? Nothing else? Gojo—" there it goes "—been 'okay' with you lately?"

Your heart skips. "Ya. he isn't so bad today," you lie, "I'd just love to be home on time for once. Maybe even a bit early, I'm soo close. Overtime's been wringing my neck for weeks."

Yuko looks at you with puppy dog eyes. And not in a "I feel sorry for you" kind of way, but one that almost makes you feel bad for not telling her the whole truth.

"Here," she pushes your soup towards you, "How about I do Gojo's bath and you get an early start on my last two? That way you can at least binge that show you won't shut up about later." She smiles.

You immediately protest.

There's no way you can do that to her.

Yuko never even crossed your mind and was far from your first pick, not because she couldn't handle him but because she was your friend. Not just a colleague, but someone you actually cared about more than anyone else in this run-down job even if she didn't feel the same.

She's too good of a person, and you'd be the Devil Incarnate if you let her do something so risky. Especially when you can just suck it up and get it over with.

"Woah, woah, it's just a bath, calm down," she says, taking your hands in hers as you ramble on trying to convince her that you'll be fine or that you'll find someone else.

Burdening her was completely out of the question.

"Who else but me, Seph'? You don't you think I'm as good as you?" And the way she says it, giving you that look she does when you're being stubborn, dares you to challenge her.

Now you really had to think about what to say.

Goddamn it, you regret saying anything at all, but Yuko's so motherly, how could you resist? Hiding from her is impossible, she would've sniffed you out sooner or later.

Easing your pains when she could was her specialty—helping to calm and settle you down when you're quick to blow things out of proportion.

Could this be one of those moments? Or were Gojo's words more than just hot air?

The back and forth was killing you, but the combination of Yuko's reassuring touch and your gurgling stomach put the final nail in the coffin as she reminded you of the time.

Eyes wide, you look at the clock, ticking away faster than you realized, then back at your lukewarm soup.

Denying that you needed help would be silly because technically it was true. You probably should've asked the Director for a little Gojo break long ago, even if just for a few hours a few times a week. It was better than nothing because if you couldn't function, Gojo couldn't be cared for.

And when you really think about it, who better to fill in for you than Yuko?

The gutsy woman has been your rock since you started at the ward, She's had your back, sticking with you through tough times at work when staff constantly dipped in and out of the facility like a rotating door after being unable to handle the job.

A real day one.

Next to you, she's the most competent nurse in these walls, fully equipped with a "take-no-shit" attitude that routinely keeps her patiently in check.

It'd be silly, downright irresponsible to trust anyone else.

Her offer is simply too good to dismiss.

"Thank you, Yuko," you cave, grabbing your spoon and finally allowing yourself to enjoy your meal. "You're...amazing. I don't deserve you."

She looks on happily. "Just promise me you'll take some personal time after this," she insists, worry evident in her voice. "We both know how much you care, but even superheroes need rest."

She's too kind and right in more ways than one.

"Besides, I think Gojo will like me, ya? I'm cool. I'm fun. He'll like a friend of friend, you think?"

Your eyes roll—ya, totally, cool people definitely say they're cool.

You don't know whether to joke back or wave her off, softly smiling at her concern instead before nodding. You vow to make good on your promise and feel a bit lighter knowing your wish for early release will actually come true.

Maybe.

The latest threat to your miracle in the making is Mr. Hampton, who is personally making it his business to drag the already long day by its edges. Almost bringing time to a standstill with the way he's handling his bath.

Enormous and lumbering, the man Yuko usually deals with took his sweet time gathering his things and even longer trekking down the seemingly endless halls leading to the bathing area. Occupying every inch of the space like those massive trucks on the interstate, hogging the road, yet inching along at a pace that makes a snail look like it's in a sprint.

All that was missing were the yellow hazard lights.

Oh no, please, take your time, you think, watching Mr. Hampton clean each limb painstakingly s l o w in a tub that's comically too small for him. You may have been able to rush through Yuko's first patient, but this one wanted all that time back.

His pace resembles a giant's, and his cheerful nonsensical hums echo around the hollow chambers, lulling you to sleep, turning your eyes into bricks under the spell of the melody. Perfect timing for the energy drinks from early to crash you out, tag teaming with the chair beneath you that feels a bit too soft as you lean over the tub, willing the colossal man to hurry up.

Warm water flows over your skin as you scrub circles on his neck, deciding to bite the bullet and take over the bath so he can play with the foamy bubbles, when you hear a blood-curdling scream.

Your entire body goes rigid, shock reverberating through your spine and forcing you to halt as your mind goes blank. But steamy water brings you back to life, drenching your shirt and upper thighs when Mr. Hampton jumps from surprise.

The rude awakening makes you lock in.

The scream. It sounds like...no, you know it came from the west wing...where Gojo is.

And Yuko.

Hurried steps rush past your door, sounds of multidirectional distress and frantic shouts echoing through the corridor—staff members and patients alike swept into a whirlwind of panic.

You're number one, dropping the scrubber and scrambling to help Mr. Hampton out of the tub, hands shaking as he grips them.

A security guard bursts into the room, face ashen and jaw tight.

"Nurse! We need everyone in the west wing, immediately!" The command is sharp, laced with an urgency you've never seen before.

And immediately feel responsible for.

"There's been an incident."

Without another thought, you wrap Mr. Hampton in a towel, trying your best to assure him that everything is fine when your obviously trembling body said nothing was. His confused gaze follows you as you lead him back to his room, the commotion in the air moving him a lot faster than earlier before you rush back out heading straight for the west wing—where chaos reigns supreme.

The usually pristine floors, normally squeaky clean floors due to lack of traffic, are now barely visible. Staff members crowd the familiar hall for the first time since Gojo made it his own, filling the space with more bodies than you were used to and making it difficult to find the source of trouble.

Not like you needed to. The truth is painfully clear.

It's disrespectful even to even pretend you don't know exactly what went wrong, and your heart feels as if it'll burst from your chest any moment now just thinking about it. Crushing guilt wrapped you in its clutches, but it was nothing compared to the pain you might've caused.

You push through the masses, clumsily bumping shoulders, heart beating into your ears making the world seem quiet as you inch closer and closer to disaster. Dragging imaginary shackles on your feet with each step until you all but collapse once you spot it.

Gojo—barely restrained by guards, straitjacket nowhere in sight—standing absolutely furious.

And for the first time today, time seems to slow down, your mouth becoming suddenly dry mouth when you look past him.

Yuko.

Halfway out the door to his room. Sprawled out on the ground. Bruised, unconscious, and no signs of breathing.

Your hands fly to your lips, mouth agape. Murmurs from the crowd swirl around you as attendants rush to Yuko's side, knocking into your pathetic frame as you stand too frozen to move.

They gently pick her up, careful to handle her motionless body and place her on a stretcher. Her usually vibrant face is drained of color, twisting the dagger in your chest when you spot the subtle rise and fall of her chest. Fighting for breath.

Fighting.

It hits you like a hammer.

Someone as kind as her, so full of light, love, and joy, always greeting you with warmth and empathy and capacity every time she sees you, should never have to lift a finger let alone fight for her life. The sight is too much to bear.

Waves of helplessness crash over you and you can't even look at her. Regretting with every ounce of your being that you sent her in your place. Knowing this could happen. Concerned only with your silly wants and needs.

But you're so confused.

The ward should have weakened Gojo—Yuko should have been fine. The only threat Gojo has up his sleeve is mental torture but Yuko might as well be Freud. Her mind is sound, strong.

And that's where you fucked up, forgetting that Gojo's pure strength, especially when he's lost his fucking mind and triggered, is stronger.

Even with his security system in place, the devil was still powerful enough on his own. And like this was some sick and twisted experiment to figure that out, Yuko was the one to pay the price.

"I warned, I WARNED YOU!" Gojo's words pierce the overlapping voices like a sword, drawing everyone's attention to the strange interaction between the two of you. "I don't like to be touched by strangers, Nurse." Guards struggle to restrain him as he tugs and pulls away.

All eyes fall on you and you can feel the tense stares. The unspoken judgment.

Why was Yuko here in the first place?Where was Seph’?How’d he get out?How did this happen? 

You don’t know if the murmurs are real or only in your head, but the effect is all the same, making you wish you could completely vanish.  You stand like a deer in headlights—and they're so fucking bright.

Gojo brims with malice and amusement, chaotic energy pulsing from the hellish man and threatening to send sparks flying. As if he's daring someone to be brave and push the button.

But despite his outward display of dominance, the pure rage on his face making you feel sick to your stomach about every decision you've ever made, something...uncertain lurks behind those fiery eyes.

Something like...apprehension.

Like he knew he had done something wrong.

Words escape you, as if anything even needs to or could be said. But fear and guilt soon turn to anger and threatens to consume you. Ready to eat you alive and spit out the bones with disgust.

You are not a victim.

You have no right to stand here, spineless, shocked, or feeling even a little sorry for yourself.

Your fists clench as you hold back tears. 

What was done was done. And someone needed to pay.

But you exhale, thoughts shifting to Yuko as you take a good look around at the results of what happened the last time you decided to punish Gojo. All of your actions, even now, rooted in selfishness. Like you've learned nothing.

You push down the knot growing in your stomach and turn away to follow the medics.

Your friend needed you more than you needed revenge.

And Gojo didn't deserve any more of your attention, even if it meant risking your job or even your life to turn your back on him.

And there's nothing Gojo hates more than being ignored.

Struggled and strained noises grow louder. Guards tighten their grip on the fuming man whose raw strength outnumbered thousands of them even without his cursed energy.

You look back, their determination to keep him contained makes you nervous—you don't want anyone else to get hurt and Gojo knows that.

You're painfully aware that your decisions have put you in this position, watching the guards' valiant but increasingly pointless effort to prevent Gojo from causing further harm.

But it's an obviously losing fight, and the unease on their faces is unmistakably clear.

You wonder why they don't just run like hell.

"Let's go," a guard barks, but Gojo remains fixed in place. Moving a boulder would be easier.

"No, I'm filthy," Gojo protests, smirking, "And if I don't have my bath soon, there will be hell to pay."

He sees no one else in the room, eyes locked only on you, his expression a menacing promise that would send anyone else running for the hills. A look that says, "Try that shit again, and there will be casualties instead of mercy."

Reinforcements are called but it'll never be enough. Not even the goddamn military. Gojo...is the strongest, after all.

"Stop this."

Your cry freezes the room, plunging everything into a tense silence.

You hesitate, fuck, what should you do?

What can you do? No one else can suffer—no one else should suffer. Because of you.

You take a deep, shaky breath, silently apologizing to Yuko.

"I'll do it," you say firmly, "Just stop this and...and I'll give you your bath. Please—" The sharpest pang you've ever felt cuts through you. "—just don't hurt anyone else."

Pathetic.

But necessary.

He looks into your pleading eyes in surprise, amazement even, then smiles.

The submission in your voice sounded better than he could ever imagine. Like sweet music feeding his already inflated ego.

The guards exchange uneasy glances, clearly unsure of how to proceed.

Gojo's strength is undeniable, and it's evident that restraining him forever is not possible.

And you know offering to give him what he wants is risky as hell...but this was your doing. Your mess to clean up.

You squeeze your sweaty palms and give a decisive nod, signaling to the guards to let him go. They hesitate, then reluctantly agree and step back, leaving Gojo standing smugly before you.

You close your eyes and breathe, hating the idea of looking at him, but needing to stay strong. For Yuko. And everyone else in the ward.

Gojo's satisfied grin says it all.

Let's get this over with.

The squeaking of your shoes has never been this loud, each echo bouncing off the empty halls and reminding you of how alone you are.

Alone—with a psychopath.

A bit more docile, doped-up psychopath but, the man could probably still rip someone's head off if he wanted to.

Still Gojo despises anything that alters his body—mentally, physically, all of the above. Alcohol, medication, coffee, energy drinks—anything that threatens his need for absolute control.

But he also needed to compromise, and you refused to be alone with him again unless he took something stronger. Otherwise, it would be you, all the guards in the ward, and a pay-per-view premiere of his bath time.

He knew he had to agree because his ass is not for free, but only if you took it as well.

You blinked, hard.

You knew he would be skeptical—hell, it could be poison, and he wouldn’t blame you. But to suggest something so ridiculous?

"Half, then," he said, as if that made his suggestion any less idiotic, but, surprisingly, as you waited for your supervisor to dismiss the insane idea, the back and forth with Gojo actually didn't save you. And there was no need to ask why. The entire ward shot daggers at you any time someone walked by now.

She reassured you that you'd be fine, the mild tranquilizer would be out of your system by the end of the day, then patted your back as if to say, "lay in the bed you made."

It felt unreal, holding the familiar pill between your fingers, one you were used to dishing out but now had to take.

With a quick snap, you broke it in half, holding the half-pill out to the leering man. Gaze unwavering, he leaned forward and parted his lips, waiting.

You took a deep breath and placed them both on your tongues, but he couldn't pass up this opportunity to feel you and closed his lips around your fingertip with a quick lick before you snatched away.

But it wasn’t quick enough to avoid the tingles shooting up your arm as you swallowed without needing the water you had set aside, a confusing mix of emotions churning as it spread through the rest of your body.

He made good on his promise and swallowed his own, still watching you with a knowing look. And damn him, he's probably still thinking about it.

The guards carefully lead you and Gojo to his private bathroom—they're more there for show than for protection, but you'll take what you can get, and they keep a firm grip on his replacement straitjacket.

You trail behind, mind buried with thoughts of what to say once you're really alone with him.

The door shuts behind you followed by the familiar sound of a series of locks clicking shut. "We'll be right outside," one of the guards mutters, eyes shifting between you and Gojo. A stereotypical hint lacing his voice, but even he probably doesn't believe it.

"Perv," Gojo sneers. And laughs, but you don't find a damn thing funny, keys to his jacket digging into your palms as you spin around the face him, furious. Debating on whether to slap him, kick him, or knock his teeth out. Or be particularly evil and just let him sit in the shower, fully restrained and drenched in cold water. A move you know would do no good but show him exactly how done you are with his shit.

"That isn't funny. None of this is funny. You've hurt someone—you hurt my friend."

His laugh fades, smug expression slipping from his face. Even you're surprised.

...oh shit.

You're actually confronting him.

The intense words burn through his usual arrogance, leaving a heavy, uncomfortable silence between you.

Then, for a fleeting second, his face does something weird.

Something you haven't seen before as his eyebrows draw together. Is that...regret?

"I'm sorry."

The record scratches.

...the hell is this??

You squint at him.

The words were muttered, reluctant, but there they were, hanging in the air between you.

"It...won't happen again."

And he's serious, the same seriousness you see when his heart races when you take his vitals...but why? Because an apology? From him?? Unheard of.

Gojo has said some nasty things to you in the past that you've immediately scolded him for but he's never apologized. He'd make a note when certain jokes didn't land, but he never took them back, preferring to cut out his own tongue rather than waste his breath being sorry.

You know better than to take anything Gojo says at face value, but...what the fuck??? You almost feel offended.

He has to be joking, fucking with you to dig even deeper under your skin.

Or is he?

Now you don't know how to feel.

He's so good at that. Stealing the air back and hanging his words in them. Tempting you to pause and even consider if he truly meant them. If he could mean them. The mind games are endless.

But then, the familiar cockiness returns, along with that smile that twists your stomach into knots.

"Now," he says, strutting towards the stalls, "let's get this bath started, shall we?" And his easy, but confident steps call you to follow, a stark reminder of who you're dealing with. But he never knows when to quit. "Or should I really have to suffer for my actions?" and the bastard pouts.

Though you know he's being sarcastic and not to feed into his taunts, you can't help but wonder—what would suffering even look like for someone like Gojo?

Violence? Physical pain? A slow and agonizingly painful death?

But the guy is damn near invincible. What on earth could hurt him?

Whatever it was, it would have to be his absolute worst nightmare, but nothing comes to mind other than frustration.

Damn it, you have to keep making choices.

Return his energy or keep it professional? Tolerance or revenge?

"Apologizing won't cut it," you snap and gesture at his jacket, wondering how the hell he slipped out of the first one without leaving a trace. "And no tricks, or those guards will be back in here faster than you can tell another joke."

Smooth.

Gojo sighs sooo dramatically, like he can see straight through your little kitty claws. "Fine, fine. Loosen up," he drags, "I won't cause any trouble. Just don't go getting any ideas now, Nurse." He finishes with a wink.

He's insufferable—but despite your smoldering anger, tendrils of doubt still creep in.

Your fingers slightly tremble as you begin to unfasten his straps, but each click feels a bit like victory. A fragile illusion of your 'control'—at least for now because at the end of the day, Gojo had chosen you to listen to. And after today, he's sure you won't forget there isn't room for anyone else.

The jacket falls with a heavy thud, your eyes immediately scanning his upper body in search of any signs of injury or stress. The cascading bruises on his arms surprise you.

They feel so feeble in your hands, the jarring evidence of him not as invincible as he seems. Pale, weak, and resting between your fingers. Devoid of the power that makes him so feared.

"Never seen bruises before," and he tilts his head, "at least not on me"

You hope Yuko was at least partly responsible for the marks on the villain, but they appear self-inflicted, and he's not as mobile.

Fuck, now you'll have to bathe him too. But it's strange, seeing him like this. Even weirder knowing that he could still do damage in this state and you can't shake the feeling of this temporary 'truce'. If it isn't obvious by now, you've learned that Gojo always has something up his sleeve.

Warm water soothes you a bit, flowing over your fingers into the large white tub—pristine, imported from somewhere far away and standing on decorative claw feet. Your eyes wouldn't stop rolling the first time you saw it, completely annoyed with Gojo's over-the-top alterations and sense of style, but you'd be a liar if you said you never thought about sinking your body into it.

The best you could do was cope with the little porcelain tub in your apartment, and you get lost thinking about how you'd love to take a long, hot, and steamy bath when you get home—if you'll even have the energy. There's no way you'll be leaving early now, not like you deserve it, and feel sick even thinking about it. You doubt you'll even have a job tomorrow.

You look so defeated Gojo thinks, sauntering forward, lifting the hem of his shirt. You turn away, focusing instead on the temperature of the water but the rustling fabric as he pulls the shirt over his head and pants to the ground sends heat to your cheeks.

He certainly isn't lacking in physique, even in his current state, but still, you wonder how such a slim but toned frame could be so...powerful.

Could you be more obvious? Your flickering eyes are so telling, darting between him and the water, but he catches your gaze from the corner of his eye as if he's read your mind. So cute trying to hide away your thoughts.

You toss in his loofah, "Well...go on. Your water's ready." But Gojo can only grin, amused by your attempts to look away despite seeing his muscled frame a number of times. Still managing to fluster you.

"Your shirt," he eyes your top, "Your pants. Looks like you've already started without me."

The water stains from earlier sit beautifully across your chest, not yet fully dry, and drawing his eyes to your semi-erect nips.

His teeth tug at his bottom lip, eyes shamelessly raking over your hefty chest. "Always such a tease, aren't you, Nurse?"

You grit your teeth, cursing the swirling conflict in your easy heart, fully aware of the thin line between professionalism and this game of intimacy he just refuses to turn off. Everything was always a game no matter the circumstances. And he loves to push your buttons.

"Just get in, Gojo," you order, and after what feels like an eternity, the silence is broken by splashing water as he steps into the bath.

He slowly sinks in, sighing at the warmth of the water. Ringlets of steam engulf him, almost making his silky white hair disappear with it.

His arms string over the rim of the tub, a look of relaxation resting on his face as if he's had a long, hard day. You resist the urge to slap it off.

Sudsy bubbles form from the solution you pour under the faucet, hoping to shield your eyes from his body. You've seen enough today and expect the mini-rebellious act to piss him off, but as the bubbles grow, so do his eyes. He picks up a handful and actually starts playing with them.

"Nice touch," he adds, blowing them right into your face, and you watch with a tight lip as he decorates the bathroom with them, knowing you'll be the one to clean it all up.

He sits a crown on his head and gives himself a bubble beard, nipping your nose with some that you're quick to wipe away.

His pale eyes flutter, settling on you in a curious way.

He leans, arms flexing over the edge—steam-slicked sweat dripping down his face that he doesn't bother to wipe away. "I'm ready for my sponge bath," he says, and if it was hard to take him seriously before, it's damn near impossible now—especially with this ridiculous bubble mustache.

Sickening, him managing to still be so playful, so unserious, at a time like this.

You know Gojo's unhinged, yeah, quote, "mentally unwell and a literal danger to society, tf did you think??", but to nearly take someone's life and then make jokes afterward?

God, you feel so stupid, walking around him like you were the shit but with the wrong guard up the whole time, playing right into his hands and accidentally rewarding this grown-ass man who likes to play with bubbles.

The reality of your circumstances replays in your head, the story of how you ended up here, coddling this monster. Still confused as hell as to why it had to be you.

But then again, this was your job...right? To heal. To help those who can't help themselves. To offer redemption, no matter how twisted they seem.

Loofah in hand, you resist the urge to roll your eyes for the 400th time today. "Keep talking like that and I'll stop, Gojo," you say, reluctantly drenching the tool in soap before gently washing his back.

He sinks into your touch, closing his eyes and letting his body completely rest on the cool cast iron, breathing. Feeling like he's won no matter what you say because your scrubs feel like magic.

Across his arms and over his broad shoulders, you work your way down, bubbles glistening in your trail as you're careful not to miss a single inch of skin but don't linger too long.

Every now and then, you catch glimpses of his marked skin between the foam and because you hate yourself, your brain absolutely refuses to give you a break. You have to give kudos to the dedication to his craft. The muscle definition, the scar tissue telling stories of battles won. Evidence of his past before corruption. Everything it takes to be a hero.

It's unsettling, yet fascinating, the polarity between his beauty and his monstrous deeds.

This is another first for you, this level of care. Gojo usually just hops into the shower and takes care of himself as you wait outside—easy and thorough but always taking his sweet time, all while loudly singing some annoying song that inevitably gets stuck in your head.

But after today, it'll be impossible to trust him or you again, and the hushed whispers as the guards walked you both to the restrooms made that abundantly clear.

The pitiful thoughts seep into the way you hesitantly clean him, moving down to his chest and abs and making sure to avoid more sensitive areas, but the malicious glint in his eyes is unmistakable.

"Whatsamatter, Nurse?" Gojo taunts, feeling you slow around his lower region, "Afraid of gettin' too close?" And you can't believe you're praying for a speedy recovery so he can handle this himself.

You ignore his comment, trying to get this over with as quickly as possible. You're humiliated enough as it is and he can sense it, mocking you with a laugh.

"You're so uptight. Can't you just relax and enjoy the view?"

You want to scrub his cocky brow right off his face. "Just doing my job," you mutter, twice squeezing the loofah that feels a little funny in your hand as the soapy water rinses his chest.

The water feels heavenly on his skin, but the subtle change in your movements makes his brows furrow. Slowing, more deliberate, heavy as if you're wading through molasses. You keep adjusting your grip but the material feels so strange—the texture almost too soft like it could melt into your palm.

Your breath catches when you brush his skin, not realizing how close your fingers drifted to the edge of the sponge, and though it was only a second, it sends an unexpected jolt through his chest.

The muscle relaxers. How could you have already forgotten, you both think.

But Gojo, ever observant, doesn't miss a thing.

His eyes narrow slightly as he watches you. "Feeling a little funny, Nurse?" his velvet voice teases.

"I'm fine," you lie, though you couldn't be less certain as the muscles in your hands start to relax more than you intended, the sponge gliding over his abs, down his sides, rhythm almost hypnotic and making the man's head fall back. You try to push through the haze, to finish quickly and be free of him, to try to regain your slipping control, but you're in a losing battle against numbness and heightened awareness.

ANd God, he has to bite his lip at your touch that feels so intense, a sensation too good to keep to himself that you obviously need to stop being such a tight-ass.

You need to loosen up in a way that medicine can't help. And Gojo knows just the trick.

He licks his lips, tongue curling over his canine before splashing a wave of water on you in one swoop.

Saying you gasp is an understatement as the steamy wash drenches your face and front once again. You've been hit not once, but twice in a day—a new personal record.

Instinctively, you reach up to shield yourself, the loofah slipping from your hand, but Gojo is quicker, wrapping his hands around your wrists and holding you in place.

A scream prepares to surge from your body when Gojo maneuvers both of your wrists into one hand and places a finger to your lips.

"Ssssh ssh ssh ssh ssh," he hushes, his voice a little too calm, "I'm not going to hurt you." He swipes a lone droplet hanging from your eyelash. "I just want you to listen."

You freeze, nerves on fire as you're forced into this close proximity for the second time today. Inches away from his face that softens.

Though you can easily call for help, you know better than to argue—he knows you know better but he never felt threatened in the first place.

Besides, he can feel your breathing slowing, the effects of the pill combined with his firm hold sending a faint buzz from your wrists to your stomach. His finger remains on your lips as he brings his closer.

"Now," his eyes flicker to your bottom lip, "You're so very good at your job, Nurse." He smoothly pulls it with his thumb. "That's why I like you. You're thorough but real. Just what I need to keep me sane."

Sane?

"Sane," he repeats like he's heard your thoughts. "Believe it or not, you keep me grounded...like a good boy. Be proud, not a single soul here or anywhere else can compare to my strength, let alone deal with me yet...here you are." He looks at you like you're a marvel.

"You can handle that...can't you?"

Words fail you. This feels rhetorical. Why does he keep torturing you like this? What is it about you?

You haven't really thought about it since your first few weeks with him but now he's forcing you to think about the little 'power' he's given you that he can easily snatch back.

What happens if he decides to go further than flirting?

You can't handle it, any of it, any of this.

You hesitate, unsure of what to say but know it could never be the truth.

Gojo must sense it because he leans closer, his breath warm on your cheek.

"If you leave, I just might crack completely, beauty." A breath you didn't realize you were holding slips. "How do you think everyone else will fare against me then, hmm?"

Gojo knows he's a prodigy, yet he still manages to surprise himself sometimes, eyes lingering over the spots on your uniform soaked through just enough to make the fabric cling—perfect aim.

Ice shoots up your spine from the heat of his unadulterated gaze, but you refuse to let him see you falter. He almost feels a prick from the daggers you throw with your eyes.

"Oh, don't be like that, Nurse," and he purrs, thumbs grazing your wrists in a mockingly gentle touch. "We all have our boundaries, right? I thought communication was key in a relationship."

"Let go of me," you find your voice, "We're done here."

Gojo slightly tilts his head.

Look at you calling the shots, he thinks. So strong, so very serious.

"God I can't help it," he breathes, "You're so fun to mess with."

He could laugh in your face, have his way with you, and show you that your resistance means nothing.

Instead, he slowly releases your wrists and lies back against the tub. "I know you think about it—there's nothing wrong with a little fun...right?" and though the connection is severed, you don't know if it's the drugs or just him that makes his amplified touch linger as you sheepishly rub your wrists.

Gojo watches you blush red—thoughts you didn't know lived within you rushing to the forefront as if he's pushed a button.

Grimy, raw, salacious, unwanted thoughts of forbidden fruit, wandering hands, and stolen touches in the dark. Wondering what his idea of "fun" was like under the sheets. With a psycho named Gojo.

You feel like you should throw up in disgust but the nausea never comes, instead you burn between your legs.

Fuck, you've got to get out of here.

You draw a breath, forcing away the torturous daydreams and quickly finish his bath.

"You should rest," you firmly say and pull the plug to let the tub drain. "And don't expect any more favors from me."

He sits up slow, his expression stone-cold as he slicks back his wet hair. Then he smiles. "I promise. Now dry me off?" he quips.

You ignore his request, swiftly handing him a towel before he can flash you. Gruffing, you lower to your knees and begin drying the floor of his messes, hoping to distract you from your questionable sanity.

Rustling fabric fills the chamber as he dries off, and when you figure it's safe, you look up to a nude Gojo. Still dripping with bubbles, hair plastered to his derpy face, and toned muscles, all the muscles, presenting themselves in all their glory.

The only things dry are his damn hands.

He throws the towel over over his shoulder, sauntering towards you with a wicked grin.

"Well, aren't you gonna help me put this thing back on?" He nods at the jacket he knows is more bullshit than security. "Don't want you getting all worked up again."

The first time your brain registered that Gojo was flirting with you was on your third day as his nurse.

"Well, aren't you a breath of fresh air?" Gojo was sitting on his bed, leaning against the wall. It was the second time he'd noticed how sluggish you looked while tending to him, suggesting with a grin that you must be quite the party animal.

Ha. If only.

You tsked, tossing his bedsheets into the hamper, and assured him that your sleepy eyes and dragging feet were the result of long hours and running on fumes. Having time for fun was just a dream.

"I don't get out much myself," he says, alluding to the situation he's in, wearing sarcasm like a necklace. "I love a good night in as much as anyone else but, I don't know. The stuffiness hasn't grown on me yet."

You tugged the collar of your scrubs—the air did feel a bit thick, like the room hadn't been aired out in ages and you couldn't help but wonder how long he'd been sitting in it—how he could. That alone would be enough to drive you up a wall.

Sunlight flickered in your eyes, and you raised your hand to block it, noticing the small window perched above his chair.

"Ah, let's open this then," you said, walking over and wrestling with the ancient wood for a moment before finally pulling the creaky flap up to the ceiling.

Standing on your tiptoes to reach it, a sliver of your midriff peeked out, but what captured his attention most was the way the sun rays washed your face. You scrunched your nose, the breeze sending wisps of your hair to tickle it, and he imagined the feel of them between his fingers.

The view was beautiful, you thought, hands gripping the warm bars. Trees surrounded the vast area, stretching out as far as you could see, the pathway to civilization completely covered in dense forest from this angle.

You never realized how high up his ward was—or how long the drop was from here.

"Too bad I'm not small enough to slip through those bars." He rubbed his stomach. "But you know me, 'Mr. BigBack.'"

He joked around as he usually did, looking to trigger your defenses, but your sentiment was...odd.

This was the first time anyone had cared to do something so simple for Gojo. And the closest anyone had gotten to him without their knees buckling.

The first two days of your trial, the Director had guards posted right outside of Gojo's door, their presence a constant reminder to stay alert and maintain a safe distance from the convict and Gojo was positive the mental barrier would keep a wall between you forever.

But then you laughed. A real laugh. Snickery and cute. Finding his joke funny instead of threatening.

It surprised him, that sound. And he wanted to hear it again and again and again.

"Who knew you could bring so much light into this place?"

Later at lunch, you sat with Yuko, having your usual midday catch-up. You never start with yours but she, like most people in the ward now, was absolutely dying to hear about how you were dealing with the villain of the century.

"He's actually not so bad...yet. Corny, but," you took a pondering breath, "He kind of thanked me today?"

She immediately scoffed and waved you off and who could blame her?

You were the anomaly he chose to show mercy to and now he was thanking you??

Being polite was too far of a stretch to believe, you must have been mistaken. But when you gave her the deets on why he'd do such a thing, she nearly choked on her apple. "He said that??"

"Ya?" You patted her back with a concerned look.

"Watch out, Casanova." She cleared her throat and did a nervous laugh.

Her comment threw you off for the rest of lunch, but when you thought about it later that night while surfing for new shows, a light bulb went off.

He flirted with you.

Thinking it was just another one of those literal dry-humor jokes or simply gratitude for making his stay a little less crappy, it flew right over your head. You always feel warm inside when you help people so you didn't think too much about it.

To you, it was just a kudos. Nothing more.

But the way the stands in front of you now is everything.

As bold and brash as it gets.

Fuck. Me.

And your body betrays you, sending all of the vulnerable sensations you've been fighting to suppress from your soaking chest, tingling wrists, aching thighs, and heavy breath, straight to your throbbing clit.

Air escapes you and you scramble to grab your supplies and leave.

Enough is enough. The guards outside can restrain him and escort him back to his room for all you care. You just have to get out of there.

Away from him.

Away from temptation.

Hot, overwhelming, guilty, mentally and physically unstable temptation.

In the quiet of the hallway a level below Gojo's ward, you lean against a wall taking deep breaths, completely disgusted with yourself.

How are you supposed to keep dealing with this, with him?

He keeps pushing and pushing and pushing you to the edge until there's nowhere else to go. You can only imagine the hell the nurses he didn't like went through.

Taking care of him isn't getting any easier, and now you were fucking up and making mistakes.

But you're the only one who can do this. Who must.

So suck it up. Play along, Stop thinking only of yourself. Pretend.

Pretend.

Pretend?

...

What terrifies you the most is the thought that you may not have to.

You keep your scrambled thoughts to yourself when you're called into your Director's office at the end of the day.

You tell him the same story you told Yuko and take full responsibility for what happened, blaming it on exhaustion and needing a break. Swearing to never let it happen again.

By some miracle, you get to keep your job, though your one wish to leave early ended up costing you an hour and a half of unpaid overtime, and almost a friendship.

When you finally get home, you collapse onto your bed—images of the day, the ward, Yuko, flooding your thoughts, refusing to be pushed aside. You tell yourself that it's all just the guilt talking, just anxiety gnawing at your edges.

But then there's Gojo.

The most prominent one of all.

Staring you in the face with lifeless eyes and a ghostly smile. Tugging on your moral strings like a puppet.

When you close your eyes, you can't shake the feeling that he's waiting for you, a lurer in the shadows awaiting your every move.

Leave it. Leave it. Le—

You find yourself scrolling through your phone, deep-diving the web for information on your tormentor.

His past, his affiliations, anything to tell you who Gojo was, and who he is now.

The man is an anomaly.

Not much is known about him outside of mainstream news and internet rumors.

He's just this guy that kind of popped out of nowhere in the worst way possible. Conveniently on the tail of what could have been the most devastating incident in the history of Tokyo.

The media says he's a hero gone rogue but not much else. They damned him to hell and that was that. Even the Director disclosed very little about him during your briefing and you weren't allowed access to his files or records because it's all 'confidential'.

Nothing.

The more you search, you less that comes up. Not even silly conspiracy theories that you definitely thought would be riddling Reddit. The longer you scroll, the more you find yourself beginning to question your own sanity. Your interest. Sweet little buds of obsession.

Even though you hated taking it earlier, you actually need the pill now more than ever to relax, sleeping eluding you and mind wandering to imaginary scenarios as you stare at the ceiling. 

Tomorrow, you'll have to face Gojo again. And the day after that and the day after that and every day after.

In between your nearly non-existent off days, you'll have to seem him and decide what face you want to put on.

Because you simply cannot walk away.

After all, he's right—no one else can handle him like you can.

extended angel's note:

when i originally decided to make this into short story, i had no plans on using a y/n perspective. it was just going to feature an OC name i’ve used in stories before, named Persephone, buuuut i decided to wanted to keep it immersive and include no physical descriptors/personality specifics bc i knew i wanted to upload it to tumblr. 

to keep it reader-friendly, yk? 

alas, Persephone has had her claws in me the entire time i’ve been editing and said with her whole chest that i couldn't just dismiss her like that chile. so i decided changed the perspective but keep her name in place of y/n. 

you won’t see it too often in the story bc it’s not super significant or said a lot in general, bUT it is relevant for a certain moment later in the story. you’ll know when you know 🤭. 

anyway, hope it doesn't bother you guys too much. and def feel free to mentally plug your name when you see it to keep yourself grounded into the story.

tag list p.1: @reddiamondjazz @kiwismoother @rune1920 @blkkizzat @suguwife

@xerroe @enthyn @gloomuri671 @ressyshi @startatdawn

@khenanadeche @heijihatsutori @inluvkai @ixqiix @strawnanamilk

@rosso-seta @05-simply-06-simping @sims-4lifers @bratidol @rh-tg1

@hyunsuks-beanie @n1vi @luna-v-roiya @neteyamsluvr111 @supsiii

@natadecoco30 @chiyokoemilia @ririoutspoken @kyoxko @strawberrymilkshakes-posts

@nen-nyy @cinnamorochiroll @kazeniya @maybe7tommorow @sxnkuna

@misoyuh @lupitalove @sebastianlover @gojosatorubrainrot @sleepiebunniee

@mmmidkman @theonecrackhead @thathorsegotpoobrain @iveivory @samistar

@yuuan-66 @gojoslefttoenail @soyalovestoyap @winkwonks-world @thebiggestsimpforyou 

[gender-euphowrya]

my grandma is like "i make mistakes and it's Your fault"

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 13

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10 || PART 11 || PART 12

Robin calls the Harrington house twenty-three times that night; no one answers. She gets desperate enough as she paces the length of her living room waiting for the phone to ring, that she asks her dad for the phone book, hands shaking as she looks for Munson. It’s unlisted, of course.

She thinks about looking up Jeff, but to her embarrassment, can’t think of his last name.

She’s too nervous to look for “Cunningham,” afraid equally that she’ll answer and not have seen Steve, or that she won’t answer at all. 

She calls Steve’s house again; he doesn’t pick up.

She’s tired enough the next morning to be tempted to stay home sick, but she drags herself out to the bus anyway, too worried about Steve to miss a chance at seeing him. He’s not there, but she doesn’t want to walk home, and there’s no bus back to her house until the end of the day.

Plus, there’s Chrissy and Jeff, who might know something she doesn’t. They’d been at Steve’s side before her; he might call one of them where he wouldn’t pick up for her, no matter how much that thought burns.

She catches Chrissy between sixth and seventh period, snags her wrist and drags her into the girl’s bathroom—is this her thing now? Please don’t let it be her thing.

“Robin?” Chrissy asks, eyes big and worried in her face once Robin’s dutifully checked all the stalls for eavesdroppers before turning back to Chrissy and letting the whole situation pour out of her mouth.

It goes something like this: “Jason, he—with Eddie, you know?” she says, raking her hands through her hair as she begins pacing the bathroom. “And then I told Steve, and maybe I shouldn’t have? Because he’s not here today! What if he—and it’s my fault!”

Chrissy snags Robin’s wrist, and her whole brain goes quiet as she stops suddenly enough that her sneakers squeak against the dirty linoleum.

“Slow down,” Chrissy demands, grip hard on Robin’s wrist as she uses it to turn her around to face Chrissy once more. “Start from the beginning. What did Jason do?”

Robin’s breath shudders—that’s the million dollar question, isn’t it? What did Jason do? But Chrissy’s staring her down, so Robin takes a few deep breaths, and starts again.

“Jason followed Eddie’s van out of the school, and I told Steve,” she says all in one breath, hoping Chrissy can understand her. “And now neither of them are in school.”

Chrissy’s frowning at her, and Robin’s gut curdles at the look.

Like she always does when she’s nervous and there’s a lull in a conversation, she just keeps talking. “Do you think he did something to them?” she asks, bringing her free hand up to her lips to bite the nails there. “Steve could take him, right?”

Chrissy doesn’t answer, brow furrowed, eyes hard. Before Robin can babble herself into another freak-out, Chrissy turns on her heel and walks out of the bathroom, dragging Robin along by the hold she has on her wrist.

“Where are we going?” Robin whispers, glancing around the empty hallway like Principal Higgins will jump out of a shadowy corner and slap them with expulsion charges.

Chrissy doesn’t answer. Before Robin can work herself into a tizzy over the silence, Chrissy stops in front of one of the closed classroom doors and knocks before pulling it open.

Robin freezes, eyes wide as she ducks down to hide behind Chrissy.

“Hi, Mr. Mundy!” she says cheerfully. “Sorry for the interruption, but can I borrow Jason for just a minute?”

“What the fuck!” Robin whispers, staring at the back of Chrissy’s head, waiting for Mr. Mundy to call them on their bullshit.

The thing is, it works. Mr. Mundy sends Jason out without any follow-up questions—is this what it’s like to be head cheerleader?

For his part, Jason’s smiling like butter wouldn’t melt as he closes the classroom door softly behind him.

“Hey, Chris. What’s up?” he asks, smile only dropping as he catches sight of Robin peeking out from behind her. “Who’s your friend?”

“What did you do to Steve and Eddie?” Chrissy demands, voice firm.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replies, all levity having fled from his face.

Chrissy scoffs, finally dropping her hold on Robin’s wrist to plant her hands on her own hips. “I know you followed Eddie after school yesterday,” she replies, taking a threatening step forward. Determined to support her, Robin finally stands up straight, crossing her arms and glaring, hoping Jason doesn’t notice how her hands are shaking. “And I know Steve followed you both, and now no one’s seen either of them all day.”

She jabs Jason in the chest, hard enough that he stumbles back a bit as she asks, “what did you do?” She’s at least four inches shorter than him, but suddenly, she seems larger than life. Because Jason? He grimaces, cringing into the classroom’s door like she’s a threat.

Robin’s traitorous heart rata-tat-tat-tat’s in her chest.

“Okay!” he whispers, hands outstretched, looking furtively around himself for witnesses. “I didn’t touch Harrington.”

He sneers Steve’s name like it’s a curse. It rubs Robin all wrong, and by the way Chrissy takes another threatening step toward him, it must hit her the same.

“I didn’t!” Jason says, putting his hands up toward them as if to prove he’s weaponless. Robin knows better. “But Munson got what was coming to him.”

He’s got that same hard look in his eyes as when he’d followed Eddie in the first place. Robin shudders, imagining all the ways that hate could be turned on Eddie’s vulnerable body. She doesn’t know him well, but Steve cares about him, and no one deserves something like this.

“What. Did. You. Do?” Chrissy asks again, teeth gritted as she grunts out each word.

“You should be thanking me!” he sneers, looking down on her in a way that makes Robin furious. “I heard you talking in the library.”

Robin shoots a look at Chrissy and sees surprise on her face, but not confusion. Whatever this is about, she already knows about it.

“You went after Eddie because he was going to ask me out?” she demands, more furious than Robin’s ever seen her. Her hair’s damn-near flying, and she looks like Medusa more than her usual cheerleader archetype. Robin only falls harder as she jabs her pointer finger into Jason’s chest and asks, “what did you do to him?”

Jason takes another step back, smacking his head into the door behind him. “I just roughed him up a bit!” he whispers, eyes still wide. “Your new boyfriend’s fine. For now.”

And he’s back to snarling, a feral dog off its leash. Chrissy doesn’t back down. She shores her shoulders up, spine straight, chin tilted up as she replies, “if you touch either of them again, I’ll kill you.”

She sounds so serious that for a second, Robin believes her. By the way Jason’s Adam’s apple bobs, he does too.

Without another word, Chrissy turns on her heel and strides away. Robin scrambles after her, looking back at Jason every couple steps to make sure he doesn’t pull anything.

When they turn the corner and he’s out of sight, Robin takes a few running steps forward to walk beside Chrissy. “Now what?” she asks.

“Now, we wait,” she replies, head still held at that royal angle that makes her throat look even longer than normal. “And once class ends, Jeff and I will go to band practice. Unless he’s dead, there’s no way he won’t show up.”

Robin bites her lip. “What if he doesn’t show?” Robin asks.

“He will,” Chrissy says, an implied or else left dangling at the end of her statement. “But if he doesn’t, we’ll show up at his house and check on him.”

Robin stews, something bitter and afraid churning in her stomach as Chrissy walks on, damn-near forgetting her entirely. As if she wasn’t the one to tell Chrissy that something was even wrong. As if she wasn’t friends with Steve, too.

But she knows when Chrissy uses the word “we,” it doesn’t mean Robin. So, she says, “if you find Steve, could you ask him to call me?”

Chrissy stops in the middle of the hallway, turning to Robin with a furrowed brow. Robin feels her heartbeat ratchet up again, blood pooling into her cheeks. “Or, maybe you could call me? If he can’t, or if you don’t find him, or if he’s busy.”

Chrissy’s still just staring—Robin bites her lip against all the words that want to come out. “I’m just worried,” she rushes out, unable to abide by the quiet.

“I don’t have your number.”

“Oh!” Robin replies. “Uh—”

All higher brain functions having fled at the soft look in Chrissy’s eyes, Robin frantically feels around in her backpack for a pen. Then somehow, inexplicably, she’s writing her phone number on Chrissy’s bare forearm, marking up that creamy white flesh with her messy handwriting.

Her skin’s warm beneath the shaking hand Robin’s using to hold her forearm steady. Robin’s cheeks could start a forest fire as she dots the i on her own name as she writes it above her phone number—as if Chrissy will ever forget this uncomfortable moment.

Robin holds onto her a second longer than necessary—looking down at her own marks on Chrissy’s skin before she drops it abruptly. Chrissy keeps it in the air for a moment before letting her arm swing back to her side.

“Thanks, Robin,” she says, and when Robin finally looks up at her, she’s smiling, none the wiser to the big gay moment Robin was just having. “I’ll make sure he calls you.”

“Uh, yeah!” Robin squeaks. “Thanks. Thank you?”

Chrissy laughs, finally turning around and making her way to her next class. “Bye, Robin.”

“Bye!” Robin calls.

Steve better call her, and soon. Screw Eddie, she’s got a whole lot to unpack here, and no one else to do it with.

***

Eddie’s already ten minutes late to band practice; so is Steve.

“I’m telling you, something’s wrong!” Jeff says, all heated as he paces Gareth’s garage.

“Didn’t he get too high last Monday, and not go to school because he thought it was Sunday?” Chrissy asks, trying to cheer everyone up.

It doesn’t work.

She’s not any better. She’d been so sure that no matter what had happened, Eddie would come to band practice. Jeff had agreed when she’d caught him up on the situation, so here they are, stewing in anxiety the longer the clock ticks on.

Still, she’s a little charmed by the way Eddie’s entire band is crumbling without him—does he even know how integral he is?

“That’s school, though,” Gareth replies, twirling one of his drumsticks nervously between his fingers as he stares at the open garage door like Eddie will walk through any second. “He cares about the band.”

Behind him, Doug nods his support, clutching onto the strings of his instrument hard enough that she’s surprised they haven’t snapped. It’s sweet, really, the way they all care, but no matter what all the boys around her seem to think, Eddie couldn’t be punctual with a watch strapped to both his wrists and each of his ankles for good measure.

She’s his friend, but faultless, the boy is not.

Still, Jeff’s eyebrows are all pinched, and this practice is dead on arrival so she asks, “why don’t we wait a few minutes to make sure we don’t just miss him, and then I can drive you over to check on him?” while looking Jeff’s way.

After token protests from Doug and Gareth, waylaid by Jeff’s promise to call after, they wait a long five minutes before she corrals him into the passenger seat of her car and heads toward the trailer park. In deference to Jeff’s dour mood, she turns her Blondie tape on low.

But, she’s still in the car with the man of her dreams, so she reaches over the center console and settles her palm on his thigh with a squeeze. Jeff places his own hand over hers squeezing her fingers but otherwise not protesting.

She could’ve never done any of this with Jason, who found even the most minor of things emasculating. He would’ve rather walked than let her drive him somewhere, much less put her hand on his thigh. It was his job to put his hand on her thigh, didn’t she know?

Chrissy finds she likes it this way a lot better. She likes driving Jeff home from school after Hellfire, she likes carrying his books sometimes when she can get away with it.

She likes that he lets her.

It’s not a long drive—Jeff leaps out of her car almost before it’s in park, and Chrissy scrambles to keep up.

Jeff doesn’t even knock, just opens the door. Chrissy hesitates on the threshold, her mother’s teachings squirming within her at showing up uninvited, empty-handed, barging in.

But then Jeff inhales sharply and asks, “did Carver do all that?” and all thoughts of propriety fly right out of her head.

She steps through the open front door, shutting it gently behind her. Only then does she peer around Jeff’s shoulders. Eddie’s curled up on the couch, a bag of peas pressed to his bruised face, lip split straight down the middle.

He waves, smiling lazily like nothing’s wrong at all. “Come to join the party?”

As if to punctuate Eddie’s absurd question, a door opens and suddenly, there Steve is, looking unhurt, if a bit tired. He stops right outside the door, eyes widening as he catches sight of them. “Oh,” he says, rubbing the back of his head, cheeks tinting red with what looks like embarrassment. “Hey.”

“What happened?” Chrissy asks, an echo of Jeff’s own words, gaze still trained on Steve.

Eddie scoffs, drawing her line of sight back to him just to watch him somehow curling himself into an even smaller ball before hissing like it hurts and straightening back up.

“You’re boyfriend got me,” he replies, something mean in his voice.

Chrissy looks at Jeff first, eyes wide before she remembers: she’s supposed to be dating Steve. For his part, Steve looks uncomfortable where he’s loitering across the trailer.

“What?” Chrissy squeaks out, smacking her hand over her mouth in shock. “Steve wouldn’t—”

Eddie stands suddenly enough that Chrissy stops talking without prompting. He throws his hands up in exasperation, dropping them immediately to clutch at his ribs. “Not that one,” he cries, voice cracking with pain.

Chrissy’s fingers are tingling. She bunches them up at her sides, a thread of violence coursing through her voice as she says, “Oh, right. Jason.”

Eddie scoffs, wincing again as his split lip drips down his chin.

Jeff, clearly fed up with watching his best friend inflict further pain on himself, rushes forward and pulls up Eddie’s shirt, prying his fingers off when he tries to hold it down. There’s a big, purpling bruise along the line of his ribs, another smaller one lower on his stomach.

Finally succeeding in slapping Jeff’s hands away, Eddie slumps back into the couch, pouting up at Jeff like this is all just a joke. Like he’s not black and blue. “Stop it, prince charming over there already took care of it.” He throws a careless thumb over his shoulder at Steve. “Not the knight in shining armor I would’ve chosen.”

This, he directs toward Chrissy, batting his eyelashes flirtatiously at her. Behind him, Steve’s recently-flushed cheeks drain to an off-white as the comment lands. He shuffles into the living room proper, slumping down on the couch as far away from Eddie as he can, entire body pointed away like that’ll keep him from being notice. 

Her hands clench harder.

She’s never been a violent person, but seeing that look on her best friend’s face makes her desperate, suddenly, for a target she could actually hit. But it’s Eddie inflicting the pain—stupid, sweet Eddie who doesn’t know what he’s doing.

Jeff sighs.

“Um,” is all she gets out, voice high with discomfort.

There’s a sitcom concept here somewhere: a cheerleader trapped in an enclosed space with her boyfriend, the boy she’s pretending to date who likes the boy who likes her, because she’s pretending to in order to protect the boy who likes him. Oh yeah, and her ex-boyfriend beat up the boy who likes her who she’s pretending to like.

It’s muddled enough they’d need a diagram for the pitch meeting just to have a chance of keeping it all straight.

Eddie’s still looking at her, big cow eyes all wide and earnest, so she says, “I’m sorry?” and he laughs.

“It’s not your fault your ex-boyfriend is the worst person alive.”

Jeff snorts, but the moment of levity drops when Eddie continues with a muttered, “not that your taste has improved much.”

“Eddie,” Chrissy cuts in, voice dangerous as she looks past him to her best friend’s drooping expression. 

“Sorry!” Eddie replies, throwing his hands in the air as he smiles up at her. “But I would kick myself for years if I didn’t take my shot.”

And with that, Eddie gets up off the couch; it looks painful, he grimaces as his ribs straighten and clutches at his wrist. Steve partially raises from his seat, arms open like he might have to catch Eddie. But Eddie makes it up from his seat, and is out of the room in seconds.

Steve slumps down into the couch, and Chrissy burns—at Jason, at Eddie, at the whole goddamn world for the look on his face.

It gets worse when Eddie reenters the room because there, clutched in his hand, is a familiar style of folded letter with a familiar script on it, but instead of Secret Admirer, it just says Chrissy.

“I was going to just leave this for you,” Eddie says, smiling sheepishly as he holds it out to her, “but Carver waylaid my plans so.”

Eddie shrugs before wincing and lowering his shoulders. He shakes the letter at her again, still inexplicably smiling, as if Jeff hasn’t gone stiff beside her, and Steve hasn’t withered away enough to damn-near disappear

Chrissy takes the letter.

Chrissy,

I’m sorry for not being up front with you. I was just afraid, but not anymore. I don’t want you to think you’re not good enough for me because baby, you’re everything. Every word you write on the page means everything to me. You have to know that.

I can’t imagine this year without you in it. You’ve brightened my days far more than you could ever know. I want the chance to do the same for you. I want to get you flowers, and show up at your door with my hair combed just right. I want to hold your hand at the drive-in.

If you want that, too, I’ll pick you up this Friday. They’re showing Romancing the Stone, my treat.

Hopefully Yours,

Eddie

P.S. You don’t have to “be better,” baby. I just want you to be you. That will always be enough for a guy like me.

It’s devastating. Chrissy’s eyes trace the page, brain ticking away against a problem with no solution. It’s not fair to say yes, not when it’s not just her heart on the line, but all four of them, primed for breaking.

She doesn’t look up at Steve, can’t bear to see whatever’s on his face.

“Obviously you were supposed to find the letter in the atlas,” Eddie says, and when she looks up at him, he’s got a piece of hair held up over his own lips, face gone a light pink with an embarrassed blush. “But this is me asking if—if you want to go out. With me. To the drive-in?”

Chrissy swallows, throat suddenly dry, unable to find the words to fix this. The longer the silence goes on, the wider and wetter his eyes get. She feels like the hunter who shot Bambi. She has to say something.

“She didn’t write the secret admirer letters.” Steve’s voice rings out, sure and steely, through the trailer. Eddie sits up straighter, eyes still trained on her. She barely notices, gaze stuck to Steve, whose face has gone somehow paler, and is tinged with a greenish hue, like he’s going to be sick.

“Steve—“ Chrissy starts.

“I did.”

PART 14

[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | ch 10 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader, Yoongi x Hoseok

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, this chapter contains mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: side character breakup, jungkook is still a little jealous lmao, alcohol, curses, they both are anxious to lose each other tbh, explicit content: hickey, breast play, oral sex (male receiving), jerking off, fingering, protected sex

☆word count: 10.1k

☆a/n: fun fact, this is the chapter that made me choose the title for this fic!! and this is also where the angst starts :') I hope you still enjoy reading <3 and thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing, you're the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Monday, March 25th 

You hate college. More specifically, you hate having to turn in multiple lab reports every week. There’s just something about building a lab report that irks you.

You don’t know how researchers do it. You think you’d go insane if you had to write report after report after report but…

You’re already going insane after all.

You sigh, rubbing a hand on your forehead as you look at the tables you’ve been trying to make for half an hour. Yoongi, sitting across from you, raises his head from his laptop, an eyebrow cocked. You offer him a tight-lipped smile, going back to your report as he doesn’t pry, focusing back on his own work.

As much as he spoke to you at the party last week, Yoongi has been a lot more silent today. You reckon you might know why - Hoseok said in the group chat that he’d come to study too, and he’s yet to show up. It’s evening now, and you have a feeling he’s just not going to come. 

You don’t know if you can entirely blame him - it’s Spring Break after all, and most people are trying to forget about college for the week. 

But you can’t, because you’ve got that lab report to work on and a final to study for.

You blink a few times, trying to bring your laptop back in focus, and then you go back to work. You spend another thirty minutes fixing the tables, not caring that the titles clearly could be better. Nabi said she’d go over everything you’ve done, and you know she’s much better with titles anyway.

You’re lucky she’s your lab partner. 

“Are you hungry?” Yoongi asks all of a sudden, and you startle, looking up at him.

Right in time, your stomach grumbles, and you let out a small laugh. “Yeah, a little.”

“Want to order burritos?” Yoongi suggests.

You nod enthusiastically, and he chuckles, picking up his phone. The smile that was on his lips dies almost immediately, and he deeply sighs. You furrow your brows questioningly, glancing outside of your study rooms.

Jungkook isn’t working today, yet you find yourself looking for him all the same. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask Yoongi, pushing Jungkook away from your thoughts.

Even though every thought of him makes you warm inside, giddy like a teenager with a crush.

“Hobi,” Yoongi simply replies.

You purse your lips, picking up your water bottle to take a long sip as you search for something to say. You settle on, “You guys talked after the party?”

Yoongi nods. “Yeah.” He pauses, sighing deeply again before handing you his phone. “Just choose which burrito you want.”

You grab his phone, quickly choosing what you want to eat as he remains silent, typing away on his laptop. You’re aware he’s avoiding the question, but you have a feeling he needs to talk. It’s in the way he worries at some dry skin on his bottom lip, an anxious tell you recognize all too well for having it too.

“How did the conversation go?” you ask as he finishes up the order, putting his phone back down on the table.

“It went okay,” he admits, yet he looks defeated. You understand why when he adds, “He told me he doesn’t want to be with me anymore.”

You widen your gaze. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Yoongi laughs bitterly, slightly shaking his head. “I feel blindsided. We were all happy before the party and now…” He shrugs vaguely, letting out a choked sound that almost passes as a chuckle. “It just came out of nowhere.”

“I’m really sorry…”

He shrugs again. “What can you do? I really just jumped in too fast without realizing that he was reluctant. I was stupid.”

“I don’t think you were stupid,” you say, trying to sound reassuring. “You’ve had feelings for him for a long time, and it felt like you were finally getting something in return. Anyone would have been blindsided.”

“I should have known when he insisted we take it slow and not share a room though,” Yoongi insists. “And though the sex was great there was a lot of stuff he was uncomfortable with. Not that I ever did anything without him wanting to do it but…” He wets his lips, glances your way before setting his gaze on his keyboard again. “I was his first guy.”

“Yeah, he told me,” you admit.

Pink dusts Yoongi’s cheeks, and you can tell he’s embarrassed by the turn of the conversation. So this time you don’t pry, letting him figure out what he wants to say next.

“I think he realized that he’s not into guys all that much,” Yoongi eventually says. “Like… he wanted to try it out and turns out it’s not as nice as he thought it’d be kinda thing, you know?”

You nod. “It sucks that it had to be with you though. You didn’t deserve that.”

Another shrug, like it’s all Yoongi knows to do right now. “Yeah, I guess.” He chuckles, a sad sound that makes you want to get up and hug him, though you know Yoongi’s not big on physical touch. “I don’t know if I should be mad or sad,” he admits a few seconds later.

“You’re allowed to be both.” He cocks an eyebrow as if not convinced. “I’m serious,” you insist. “You like him. Obviously, it’s going to hurt if he decides he doesn’t want to be with a guy. And obviously, you’re allowed to be mad too, because to you it can feel like he was leading you on.”

Yoongi meets your gaze. “Have you ever thought about becoming a therapist?”

His statement surprises you, and you laugh, scrunching up your nose. “No?”

“I think you’d be good,” Yoongi says. He sighs deeply again, picking up his phone. “Food’s on its way.”

You’re technically not allowed to eat at the library, so you end up eating on the steps outside when the food arrives, the fresh evening air welcoming after being stuck in a small, stuffy room for a couple of hours. Yoongi keeps pouring his heart out to you all along, as if he’d been holding everything in for too long, and the dam finally burst.

You’re happy to be there for him. Even though most of it is the same thing as at the party last week, you’re happy he’s comfortable enough to confide in you, and you try to cheer him up. 

“If you want,” you say after a time. “I could try to speak to Hobi. See what he really thinks about this all.”

Yoongi holds your gaze for a few seconds before looking away, his eyes shifting to the cloudy sky. “Nah, I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he says. “I’ll just have to move on.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you just nod. “Your choice. I’ll be here for you.”

He smiles, sighing. “I know. Thank you.”

On that note you return to your study room and to the lab report awaiting you. Yoongi busies himself with his composition as you work, and you finally finish taking care of the text for the results about half an hour later. Nabi said she’d do the discussion, so you send her the link, asking her to tell you if she wants you to fix anything, and then you close your laptop, folding your arms on top of it.

“Done?” Yoongi says, pushing his headset down so that it rests around his neck.

You nod, dropping your face on your arms. “And I’m dead.”

“When do finals start for you?” he asks.

“Next Tuesday,” you admit.

“Isn’t that early?” Yoongi asks, gaze widened in surprise.

It might be. You only have one then though, and you still have two weeks of classes in your other courses before the rest of your finals. You’ll still take it - it means one less final during the true final week.

You tell so to Yoongi, who admits he doesn’t have finals, instead having projects in three classes. It leads to a conversation where you compare biology to his music major, and another fifteen minutes go by in comfortable silence when the conversation dies of its own volition, as you scroll on your phone and Yoongi keeps on working on his music composition.

You startle when someone knocks on the door of the study room. You glance that way, eyes widening when you notice Jungkook on the other side. Yoongi lets out a small laugh at your expense, and you get up, opening the door for Jungkook. 

“What are you doing here?” you ask as he walks in, two coffees in hands. 

“Thought you might need this,” he says, offering you one.

You take it with an eyebrow cocked quizzically, and then you watch him as he drops in one of the empty chairs at the table. He’s got a backpack with him, and he pulls out a laptop and a notebook from it while you and Yoongi are just stunned silent.

“What are you doing?” you ask again as you sit back in your chair. 

“Figured I’d come study here with you guys,” he explains simply.

You glance at Yoongi, who shrugs.

“Oh?” you let out, settling your gaze back on Jungkook.

“Unless you guys don’t want me to?”

Yoongi saves you by replying, “No, you’re all good man. I was leaving anyway.”

He clearly wasn’t, as you’re the one who finished writing your report and he was still in the middle of his composition, yet he still gets up, closing his laptop and putting it in his backpack.

“Text me if there’s anything,” you tell him as he’s sliding one of the straps of his backpack on his shoulder.

His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, and he nods curtly. “Will do. Thanks for everything.”

You offer him a small smile, and then he’s walking out, not once looking back. 

“Did you really have to come here?” you ask Jungkook, and it sounds far more accusing than you meant it to be.

“What?” he lets out. “Just wanted to see what the hype is all about when it comes to the library.”

You offer him a no-bullshit look. “Were you jealous because I was studying alone with Yoongi?”

Jungkook frowns, a crease appearing between his eyebrows. His lips jut out in the hint of a pout, and something melts inside of you, like it always does when it comes to him.

“He’s the one that left the second I got here,” Jungkook points out.

“Because he’s going through a hard time, dumbass,” you say, punching Jungkook in the shoulder. 

He rubs at the spot, his pout intensifying, if that’s possible. “He still could have stayed, I wouldn’t have minded.”

Jungkook isn’t wrong, and though you really want to be there for Yoongi, you know he’s the kind of person that needs space a lot. Or at least that’s the impression he’s given you in general, and you really hope he didn’t leave because Jungkook showed up.

“I was done though,” you admit, patting your closed laptop. “I was thinking about heading home.”

Jungkook flicks your nose, taking you by surprise, and you sit back in your chair as you shriek. It earns you one of his bunny grins, and you truly are melting like snow in the sun. “Well then you’re going to have to stay with me for a little longer, mmh?”

You tilt your head to the side, though you can’t help the smile that tickles the corners of your lips. “And do what?”

“Study?” he sarcastically lets out. “Do whatever it is that you bio majors do.”

You end up doing so, rereading your notes for your first final. It’s boring, and you don’t think it’s really productive when Jeon Jungkook is sitting next to you, stealing quick glances in your direction. 

You catch him for what feels like the tenth time, and you roll your eyes. “Stop looking at me.”

“Why?”

“Because,” you offer as an explanation. “We should go home.”

He narrows his gaze at you. “Why?”

“People could see us here.” And go and tell Taehyung about it.

“I’ll handle Tae if he gets upset, don’t worry,” Jungkook tries to reassure you, but it does the opposite.

Indeed, a drop of lead forms in your stomach because, what if Taehyung learns?

You don’t want him to know. It’d complicate everything, ruin everything. 

“Besides,” Jungkook adds, “I’ll have to handle him in April anyway.”

You frown, a confused crease streaking across your brow. “Why?”

Jungkook meets your gaze. “I’m going to Paris with Jimin to see your brother at the end of the semester.”

Your heart starts racing in your chest, anxiety flooding your blood. “Oh?”

Jungkook toys with his piercings, scanning your features carefully. “Yeah. It’s been planned for a while.”

“You didn’t tell me.” You’re aware you once again sound accusing, but you can’t help it.

Not when you see the expiration date of your relationship with Jungkook flashing in your mind.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “I just didn’t think to tell you? I thought I mentioned it when we Facetimed Tae the other day.”

You can’t blame him for not explicitly telling you - the trip has likely been planned for a while, and it’s not like you speak about your brother a lot. Though you mention him once in a while, you’ve both been good at avoiding talking about him. Now that he’s mentioned the Facetime call though, you do recall, and it’s like a hand is squeezing around your heart some more.

“No worries,” you say, and you offer him what you hope is a reassuring smile. “When do you leave?”

“April 29th, I think? I’ll check.”

You nod, and you look away from Jungkook to stare at your laptop instead, though your gaze loses its focus as your brother invades your thoughts. You think about what he’d say - you know he’ll be furious, and he’ll likely kick Jungkook out of your apartment. 

Jungkook will never be able to handle Taehyung. Not when he’s being an overbearing asshole like only he knows to do.

“Peach,” Jungkook says in a small voice that almost sounds whiny. “Why do you look so upset?”

“You can’t handle Tae,” you say. You worry at your bottom lip and then take a deep breath. “It’s really better if he doesn’t know.”

Jungkook remains silent for a few seconds, though he nods his head. “Okay.” He nods again, offering you a tight-lipped smile. “Do you want to head home then?”

“Yeah,” you answer without a beat of silence. “Yeah, I think we should go home.”

Jungkook’s gaze drops to his laptop, and you feel bad. You truly do - he looks defeated, much like Yoongi looked like earlier.

“Can we watch something when we get home though?” you quickly ask.

You can’t help it. You can’t stand the sight of Jungkook upset - it’s just wrong to you.

He immediately brightens, a small curving his lips upwards. “Yeah?” 

You nod. “Yeah, definitely. Should get some cuddles in too.”

His smile widens, and he meets your gaze, the usual mischievous twinkle back in the depths of his eyes. “Sounds like a plan.”

And it really is. You think, you don’t need more with Jungkook. You don’t need the relationship to change, don’t need anyone to know. Because it’s simple right now, and there’s beauty in its simplicity. 

Wednesday, March 27th

“Don’t!” you shriek, but Jungkook ignores you, stealing the TV remote from your hands.

“We’re not watching your reality TV show,” he says as he plops down on the couch into a lying position.

You glare at him, frowning as you fold your arms on your chest. “You like it.”

“Sometimes.” He flashes you a bunny grin that makes you gulp around a sudden lump in your throat. “But right now, I’m in the mood for a movie.”

You look up to the ceiling, searching for salvation yet finding none. “What movie?”

“Just come here,” he says, opening his arms for you.

You can’t resist. His gravity is too strong, and he pulls you in, like he’s the sun and you’re the comet. 

Though you might come from the Kuiper Belt, you know you’re bound to crash into him anyway.

Once you’re nestled in his arms, Jungkook resumes his scrolling on Netflix. 

“What about this?” he asks.

“Extraction?” you say as you eye the movie he stops on. “I’m not in the mood for action.”

“Then a romantic comedy it is.”

You chuckle against him, pecking the mole on his neck. He chooses the movie Always Be My Maybe, and then tightens his grip around you.

“I like that movie,” you say.

“You’ve seen it already?”

You reach for his hand before he’s able to change it. “Yeah, but I don’t mind,” you reassure him. 

He nods, and that’s how you end up watching the movie, slowly dozing off on his chest. You’re in and out of sleep, watching the bright screen whenever you wake up, and when the credits roll in, Jungkook yawns over you.

“Were you sleeping?” you ask, faking offence.

“You were,” Jungkook points out, flicking your nose as you raise your head to look at him. 

You move your face away, resting your head on the couch. “Barely.”

Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, and then you both burst out laughing. 

You like this. You like the intimacy of being with Jungkook in your own home, like that in between these walls you get to call him yours. It’s treacherous, but oh so inebriating, like he’s summer wine you’ve become addicted to.

Instead of watching another movie, Jungkook goes to his room to retrieve his speaker, and he puts a random playlist on while you fetch a rosé bottle from the fridge, where you’ve left it before watching the movie. You’d decided to spend the evening in despite both your friends and his friends asking to hang out, and so you’d gotten a bottle earlier today.

That, and the board game Ticket to Ride, your favourite board game.

“That’s not how it works,” you complain a while later, when you’re one glass in and Jungkook grabs a locomotive and wagon card from the five on the side.

“What?” he lets out.

“If you take a locomotive you can only take one card,” you remind him.

It’s his first time playing, and though the game is fairly simple, you’ve noticed Jungkook has a tendency to try and cheat his way to the win. You’re tempted to let him keep the two cards when he offers you puppy eyes, yet you stand your ground, holding your hand out.

“Give me the wagon back.”

“Take it from me,” he teases, lips stretching in a smirk.

“Oh, you want to play this way?” you reply in the same teasing tone, and Jungkook toys on his piercings.

“Maybe?”

You get up from where you’ve been sitting on the floor, walking to the other side of the coffee table. Jungkook watches you, an apprehensive yet excited look in his eyes, and he laughs the second you drop behind him, hands aiming for his sides.

He leans against you, his large frame almost enough to make you crumple to the floor, and you wrap your arms around him, holding him close.

“Give me the wagon,” you repeat.

“Or what?”

“Or I’m not playing the game anymore.”

He looks over his shoulder at you, a pout on his pink lips. “Okay then, take your wagon back.”

He gives it to you, and you smile victoriously before pecking his cheek. “Thank you.”

You walk back to your side of the table, though you stop halfway, eyes brightening.

“I love this song!” 

Jungkook leans back on his hands, tilting his head to the side as Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol starts playing.

It was your favourite song growing up. You used to listen to a different version of it you’d heard on Grey’s Anatomy, and you’d listen to it whenever you felt sad. Whenever you needed to feel like you weren’t alone in the universe, like someone was waiting for you, somewhere.

And as you look down at Jungkook while the lyrics start, you know someone was waiting all along.

“Sing it for me,” Jungkook says, smiling softly.

You can’t help the blush that creeps on your cheeks. “I don’t know how to sing. But you do!”

He chuckles, yet immediately starts singing as you offer him a hand to pull him up to his feet. He obliges, and he rests his large hands on your waist as you wrap your arms around his neck, holding him close. He sways you to the music as he softly sings, cheeks dusted in pink, and you pull him even closer, resting your head on his chest.

Simple intimacy. That is what you and Jeon Jungkook are made of, and you think, if he’d ask you to lay here, in this moment, you’d lie with him until eternity took you in its hold. Until you’d be nothing more than dust between the stars - remembrance of what was once great. 

But April is looming closer, a giant towering over the both of you, one step away from crushing you under its boot.

“You know,” Jungkook says while the song continues in the background.

“Mmh?” you let out, looking up to meet his gaze.

His eyes are heavy with emotions, and you swim in them, bathe in them. You feel complete, cherished, and you hope he knows you feel the same way.

You hope he knows you’ve been falling in love with him despite the odds.

“I’ve never been like this with anyone before,” he admits, his voice gentle. “I’ve had situationships, I guess, but nothing like us.”

You smile softly, your heart racing in your chest. “Me neither. You’re the first.”

It’s true. Though you’ve sort of dated Sam Hwang for a few weeks during the summer, it was nothing like it is with Jungkook.

Sam Hwang never looked at you the way that Jungkook looks at you.

Jungkook leans forward, resting his forehead against yours as he keeps on swaying you both to the music, the song nearing its last chorus. Your eyes flutter shut from the proximity, and your breaths mingle as you fall silent for a few seconds.

“I love having firsts with you,” he whispers.

You almost reply that you love him. The moment calls for it - the atmosphere is that of romance,  the music is close to your soul, and he… He’s the blood in your veins and the oxygen in your lungs. Yet you can’t say it - you’ve never told anyone you loved them before. And you’re not even sure you truly love him. Yes, you have feelings, but everything is overshadowed by the knowledge that you’re bound to end.

You don’t want to tell him you love him and make it too real only to have him slip from your fingers the second Taehyung learns.

“Me too,” you instead reply. “I love spending time with you.”

It’s as close to the truth as you’ll get, and he allows it, pressing a soft kiss on your lips. It’s slow, patient, like the whole universe will pause for you two. He pulls away when the song ends, bending to grab his phone on the table. 

He restarts the song, and the second his phone is back on the table again, you pull him back in, tiptoeing to kiss him again. He wraps his arm around your waist, holding you tight against him, and you sigh at the pillowy softness of his mouth, at the way his piercings feel just right pressing indents in your lip. His free hand cups your cheek, holding you in place as he deepens the kiss, tilting his head to the side.

His tongue swipes at your bottom lip, almost hesitantly, but you open up for him immediately, tasting the rosé in his mouth as he kisses you deeply, languidly. The kiss never accelerates, yet it’s infinitely passionate.

Much like that first kiss you’d exchange, during the power outage on Valentine’s Day.

You think you knew then - he’d kissed you so softly, like you were fragile, just a flower petal a second from being blown away. Even then, he’d cared for you, and it’d scared you.

But there’s nothing scary about this. There’s nothing scary about the way he gently hikes your shirt up to slide his hand underneath it, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your back, leaving goosebumps in their wake. There’s nothing scary about the way he sighs when you run your hands through his hair, gently tugging at the soft strands. There’s nothing scary about the way he backs you towards the couch, spinning around at the last second so that he can sit down.

There’s nothing scary about him pulling you in, always, so that you straddle his lap, connecting your mouths again a second later. No, it’s only natural. He’s the wind and you the leaves. He’s the sun that shines on you, his moon.

You were always meant to collide after all, and though the aftermath might be terrifying, all you can do right now is enjoy it while it lasts.

Jungkook tentatively grinds up, his arousal evident as he presses against your clothed self. You let out a breathy sound that makes him push his tongue in your mouth, and you suck on it, earning a grunt from him as his hands drop to your hips to drag you on him again. You grab at the hem of his shirt, disconnecting your mouths just long enough to pull the fabric off him, and then you’re kissing him again, crashing your lips on his hard enough that you think you taste blood, though you don’t care.

You just want him. Need him, so viscerally you think you’ll combust.

“Peach,” Jungkook lets out as you move to his neck. 

Unable to resist, you suck a hickey on him, a bright purple mark on the spot where his shoulder connects with his neck. He groans, leaning his head back against the couch to give you better access as you lick at the spot, soothing the sting.

When you straighten, Jungkook meets your gaze, his chest quickly going up and down. You’re just as out of breath as him, and when he reaches for the hem of your shirt, you let him take it off you, leaving you in only your black lace bralette. He looks at your breasts, cupping them in his large hands as he sighs appreciatively.

“Every time it’s like you get more beautiful,” he murmurs, and he looks up at you then, his eyes crinkled at the corners in what you can only call adoration. 

“Kook…”

His hands return to your waist, and he wets his lips, playing with his piercings. You grind against him, and his eyes immediately flutter shut.

“You think we can fuck out here?” you tease, rolling your hips.

“On the couch that your brother bought,” he replies, and there’s something so sinful about the thought that you know you’ll do it.

It’s not like Taehyung is around and will know.

So you bend forward, capturing Jungkook’s mouth in another languid kiss while you unbutton his pants. When the button comes undone, you straighten, standing between his legs so that you can pull the jeans down his legs. You leave the boxers on, eyeing his length as you kneel, hands resting on his thighs.

“Can I suck your dick?” you ask.

He chuckles. “Yes. But please be quick, I want to be buried inside of you.”

You narrow your gaze at him, but let out a laugh despite yourself. 

You focus on his dick again then, on the wet spot at the top where his purple underwear has turned darker. You bend forward, littering small kisses along his shaft, and you tentatively lick at the wet spot, the taste of his precum filling your mouth. And though you’d planned to tease him, to be the brat you know he likes, you give in right away, pulling his boxers down just enough so that you can lick at his slit.

He lets out a breathy sound that has you bite your lip as you look up at him through your lashes. He’s got his head thrown back, eyes closed, and from this angle, all you can see is his sharp jaw.

You pull his boxers down more, and he helps you by raising his ass for a few seconds. His dick springs free, already rock hard, and you immediately grab the base to hold it up as you finish taking off his boxers, letting them tangle around his ankles. You’re quick to lick a long stripe from between his balls up to the tip of his cock, and then you take him in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks around him.

He bucks his hips, fucking up into your mouth, and you moan when he hits the back, your eyes immediately watering. 

He lets you lead after that, hands lost in your hair as you bob your head up and down, working him closer to his high. You love the feel of him in your mouth, love the way he grunts and praises you under his breath, and you think you’d be able to come from just hearing him, pleasuring him. 

It doesn’t get to that though. When Jungkook truly nears his high, he pulls you away from his dick, and you meet his gaze to see his pupils are blown wide, filled with so much lust all you can do is obey when he says, “Go get a condom in my room, mmh?”

You nod, and you get up to walk towards his room, feeling his gaze burning on you as you pass the threshold and head to the night table. You pull a condom out, and you walk back to the living room to find Jungkook jerking himself off, his grip on his dick tight enough you know it has to hurt a little.

“Put it on for me,” he says, and he stops jerking off, holding his dick up for you. 

You sit next to him, pulling the condom out of the tinfoil package, and then you roll it on his dick. He hisses as you do so, but the second it’s on he pushes you back until you’re lying on the couch and he’s hovering over you. 

His hair falls in his eyes, and you quickly push the strands back. He leans in, pressing his lips on yours for a kiss far softer than what you expected, and you smile against him.

He grins when he pulls away, eyes shining with lust and adoration again, and then he’s taking off your pants, taking his sweet time. Kissing every inch of skin revealed, from your inner thigh to a spot below your knee. He stops after that, instead eyeing the wet spot on your underwear, and then he pulls at his piercings, sending you a dark look that makes you go molten.

“I want to fuck you in this,” he says as he finishes taking off your pants, his free hand going to your hip where he traces your underwear. “Want to ruin your panties.”

“Do it,” you challenge him.

He doesn’t need to hear more before he’s returning over you, and his hand pushes your panties to the side so that he can run a finger between your folds, and then circle your clit. You grind your hips, seeking more friction, but Jungkook doesn’t oblige, instead pulling his finger away from your pussy.

“Be patient,” he whispers, and then he kisses you again.

The kiss is feathersoft, gentle, and you lose yourself in the very essence of him. You don’t care - you just want this moment, forever. A scene constantly replaying, away from the atrocity of the world, with your favourite song as the background music.

“Please,” you beg in a soft murmur when he pulls away from your lips, and this time he obliges, returning his hand to your pussy. This time, he pushes in, and you sigh against him as your walls clench around his digit.

“You’re already so wet,” he says, and then he’s kissing you again, his tongue lapping at yours. 

You moan in his mouth, hands lightly scratching his back as he adds a second finger. You can hear squelching sounds between your legs, and you’d be embarrassed if it didn’t feel so good that you can’t form a single coherent thought.

“Fuck,” you curse, and Jungkook chuckles, pecking your cheek.

“You take my fingers so well, peach,” he praises. “Will you take my cock just as well?”

You moan again, and you nod your head yes. “Yeah. Please.”

He smirks, pulling his fingers out of you. You both eye them - they’re covered in your juices, and it’s decadent, sinful.

Even more so when Jungkook puts them in his mouth to clean them thoroughly, drinking in your juices. 

“So sweet,” he whispers after, and then he shifts, straightening between your legs so that he can align his dick with your entrance, your panties still pushed to the side. He meets your gaze, his own dark with lust. “How do you want me tonight?” he asks, rubbing his dick on you slowly.

“Just fuck me, but come near,” you say, pulling on one of his wrists so that he leans over you again. 

He smiles, infinitely soft despite what you’re doing, and then he pushes in, ever so slowly. Inch after inch, Jungkook spears you with his dick until he bottoms out. He stills there, and you wrap your legs around his dainty waist to keep him as close as possible. He obliges, stealing a deep kiss on your lips, and he slowly pulls out before slamming to the hilt again, and you moan in his mouth.

The rhythm he establishes is slow and steady. Deep, in a way that makes you see stars in his gaze. Or maybe that’s just the way the light reflects in his eyes, or the emotions still swirling in the depths of him. You don’t know. All that you know is that you’re falling and falling, with no chance to ever stop now.

You’ve crossed too many lines to ever be able to stop. So you’ll enjoy it while it lasts. Chase all the cars around his head until you can’t anymore, until the last nail is in the coffin and you have to say goodbye to this, to him.

But for now, you enjoy. And you enjoy as best as you can, eyes fluttering shut as he slightly picks up the pace, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. You hold him close, arms and legs tight around him, and you moan as he makes love to you.

At least that’s what this feels like. And you wouldn’t want it any other way. You just want the warm proximity of his body on yours, of his lips kissing your mouth. Jungkook gives you all, and you hope he knows you’re giving all to him in return.

Everything. You’ll give him everything until you have nothing left to give, if he so takes it.

“Fuck, peach,” he whispers. He slows down his rhythm, meets your gaze. “I’m really in love with this pussy of yours.”

You know why he says it that way. Know exactly what he truly means but can’t say, and you take that too, keep it locked up in a safe corner of your heart.

“I know,” you whisper, cupping his cheek, and he rests his forehead on yours again.

“I’ll fuck you like this every day,” he says, and it sounds like a promise.

A promise that maybe you’ll make it past your brother’s return.

“Please do,” you beg, and then you’re kissing again, and he’s pounding into you harder, seeking completion for the both of you.

You come before him. Nails digging in his back while you arch yours, walls pulsing around him. That’s what sends him over the edge, and Jungkook climaxes, his head falling in the crook of your neck as he comes and comes.

He’d paint you white if it wasn’t for the condom, and the thought makes you grind your hips instinctively. He kisses your neck in retaliation, and you moan softly, tilting your head to give him better access.

When you’ve come down from the high, you glance towards the coffee table and your abandoned game of Ticket to Ride. The sight makes you laugh, and you press a soft kiss on the mole on Jungkook’s neck as he asks, “What’s got you laughing?”

“We never finished the game,” you remind him.

He lifts his head just enough to look at the coffee table. “Damn,” he lets out. “I totally forgot about that.”

You can’t blame him. When you’re together, you forget about everything, too - he becomes the center of your universe. And you wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Should we finish it?” you ask.

He meets your gaze, pecks your forehead once. “Shower first?”

You can’t say no to those big doe eyes, so you follow him to the bathroom.

And while he washes your back, you hear the clock ticking, your expiration date looming closer with every second that passes.

Saturday, April 13th

The movie theatre is packed. 

You’re waiting in line for popcorn with Nabi, Namjoon and Ria, while Seokjin, Hoseok and Yoongi go to the bathroom. The hall of the movie theatre is loud, and you’ve been standing in silence with your friends as you wait for your turn, though you’ve been eyeing the menu as you’re trying to decide what to order.

You settle on a medium-sized bag of popcorn to share with Yoongi, and Namjoon and Ria grab different candies and chocolate bars for themselves and your other friends. You’re walking towards your movie room when you notice an all-too recognizable tattooed boy, who stands taller than the group that surrounds him.

His eyes light up when he sees you, and he grins broadly as he waves at you.

Four pairs of eyes turn to look at you - Jimin, Sera, Lisa and Eunwoo - and you smile at them, though your gaze quickly shifts back to Jungkook.

You’d told him you were coming to the movies with your friends before going out for drinks. You’re not surprised he’s decided to pull up - despite everything you’ve told him, he’s jealous of your friendship with Yoongi. Which you reckon is funny - Yoongi is trying to fix things with Hoseok, and all you’ve been doing is offer help to him when he needs it.

You don’t think the relationship is fixable, but you haven’t had the strength to break it to Yoongi yet. Not when they had a moment last week, and he’s been far too happy about it since then.

You walk over to where Jungkook’s standing, your friends in tow. It’s hard to stop yourself from hugging him, but you manage to do it, instead greeting everyone and smiling at Jimin as he asks what movie you’re going to see.  

“Dune 2,” you reply. 

Jimin snorts, saying, “Thought so.”

It sounds ominous, and you slightly furrow your brows, glancing towards Jungkook. He only shrugs his shoulders as he purses his lips.

And that’s how you end up mixing friend groups for the movie. You’re not surprised when Jungkook manages to sit on your left - he’s clearly been scheming for this all along. Yoongi, entirely oblivious, sits on your right.

“I haven’t even seen the first movie,” Yoongi says as he leans towards you. He quickly glances further down the row, where Hoseok sat with Namjoon and Nabi.

Jungkook mirrors Yoongi, and he’s so close you catch a whiff of the detergent he uses to wash his clothes. “It was practically a walking simulator in the desert. Not much to miss.”

Yoongi nods, sitting back in his seat. He offers you a knowing look, and then turns towards Seokjin and Ria on his other side, joining whatever conversation they’re having. You purse your lips, before sliding your gaze back to Jungkook.

“What are you doing here?” you ask through gritted teeth.

“My friends wanted to see the movie,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “Thought we could go at the same time.”

You look up to the ceiling, though a smile is playing at the corners of your lips. “What a coincidence.”

He grins. “What a coincidence indeed.”

It makes you chuckle, and before you can say anything else, the light of the movie theatre dims, leaving you in only the glow of the screen as it comes to life.

You eat your popcorn as many movie trailers pass on the screen, Yoongi taking some once in a while. The movie starts when you’re halfway done with the bag, and soon you’re lost in the scenes, too focused to eat.

That’s when Jungkook strikes, stealing a handful of popcorn from your bag.

“Hey!” you whisper-shout, and he winks at you as he eats a mouthful of the snack. 

“What?” he whispers back once he’s swallowed.

“That’s mine.”

He flicks your nose, leaning closer to say directly in your ear, “What’s yours is mine, and what’s mine is yours, peach.”

You narrow your gaze. “You haven’t even bought any snacks.”

He shrugs. “I knew I’d steal yours.”

You roll your eyes, slightly shaking your head as you look back towards the screen, and he chuckles softly. Scenes flash in front of your eyes, and you get lost in the action. It might be an hour later, or just a few minutes, when Jungkook pokes your knee, attracting your attention.

You glance at him, but he’s focusing on the screen, his skin looking honey-like in the light. You furrow your brows in question, but when he doesn’t say anything, you shrug, looking back at the screen.

He does it again thirty seconds later, and this time he’s stifling a laugh when you glance at him.

“What do you want?” you whisper as you lean closer to him.

“You,” he replies simply, his eyes darkening as he meets your gaze.

You gulp. “We’re in the middle of a movie theatre with all of our friends.”

“I know,” he says, shrugging. “I’ve just been thinking of how you feel around my…”

You punch his shoulder before he can finish his sentence, and Lisa throws you a look that makes you sit back in your seat, folding your arms on your chest.

“Just focus on the movie, Kook,” you mumble.

He chuckles again, but before he can say anything else, Lisa nudges him. He glances at her, leaning closer when she whispers something you can’t quite hear. 

His whole demeanour changes after that, and he sits back in his chair, a slight pout on his lips. Gone is the playfulness, but you think it’s safer that way. He’s way too obvious when you’re in public, and though Taehyung still hasn’t said a thing, you know it’s bound to explode in your face soon.

Jungkook is leaving for Paris in just a few weeks after all. 

It douses you, and you finish watching the movie with a lump in your throat, one that doesn’t disappear even when you’re at the bar later, your friend group mixing with Jungkook’s far too easily. Of course, Jungkook notices, and he sits next to you, nudging you.

You glance at him, noticing the concern in his eyes.

“Is something wrong?” he asks.

“No,” you lie, but he sees through it immediately.

“Is it your cramps?”

You’re on your period. Obviously, he knows, and he’s been sweet about it, buying you snacks and putting his hands, always warm, on your lower stomach while you cuddle. 

You purse your lips, shaking your head. The concern doesn’t disappear from his features though, and you feel bad. Enough so that you say, “I’m just…”

You trail off as Lisa appears, sitting on the other side of Jungkook with two beers in hand. She gives one to Jungkook, who thanks her quickly before setting his gaze on you again. Yet she lingers, and you find yourself unable to speak, shrugging your shoulders.

“If there’s anything, just let me know,” Jungkook says, and he offers you a small smile that does nothing to tame the worry in his gaze. “I don’t mind heading home earlier.”

You nod once, and the conversation dies as Hoseok appears on the other side of the table, cheeks red with the shots he’s already downed.

“Not drinking tonight?” he asks you.

You shrug. “Not really in the mood.”

Hoseok narrows his gaze in his suspicion. “I’ve never seen you not in the mood to drink.”

You chuckle. “Well, now you have.”

You’re relieved when he lets it go, especially as you sensed Jungkook tensing by your side, an indication that he was going to intervene if Hoseok didn’t drop it. There’s a short silence, during which you notice Hoseok looking at Yoongi where he’s drinking with Namjoon and Seokjin, a few tables over.

You glance at Jungkook, motioning towards Hoseok. Jungkook frowns, not understanding, and you quickly pull out your phone to text him.

[10:37 pm] You: i want to talk to hobi about yoongi but not in front of you guys

Jungkook pulls out his phone to read your message. He doesn’t reply, yet he nods, turning towards Lisa. “Where are Sera and Jimin?”

“Ordering something at the bar,” Lisa replies, entirely unaware. “Why?”

“Want shots?”

Lisa beams under Jungkook’s gaze, and you taste bile in your mouth as they get up and walk away together, Jungkook shooting you a quick glance over his shoulder.

You can complain all you want about Jungkook being jealous of Yoongi, but you’re just as jealous of Lisa after all.

“What’s up with you and Yoongi?” you ask when they’re out of earshot, gaining Hoseok’s attention.

“Man…” he trails off. “I don’t know. I don’t know how I feel.”

“Is that why you’ve decided to switch universities?” 

You’ve been asking yourself that question for weeks, but Hoseok has been good at avoiding you, clearly realizing that you’ve grown closer to Yoongi.

Hoseok widens his gaze, and the blush on his cheeks deepens. “No? I said it’s because I’m following a professor.”

“What professor?” you ask, cocking an eyebrow.

Hoseok shrugs, his eyes dropping to a knot in the wood of the table. “Why do you care?”

“You’re my friend,” you remind him. “No matter the history that we have. I’d be sad to see you go.”

He chuckles, and it’s a lot more bitter than you ever expected to hear him. “Listen, I don’t really want to be questioned. Is Yoongi the one that asked you to ask me this?”

“No,” you say. “Not at all. I’m just worried about you.”

“About me?” he repeats. “I’m all good, Y/n.”

He doesn’t sound convincing at all, so you say, “Just make sure you don’t do something you’ll regret.”

“I already did,” he admits, and his glance towards Yoongi is far too telling. “I’m not into him like that. I don’t even know if I’m into men like that.”

“Have you told him?” 

He shrugs. “Here and there. I think he knows.”

You think so too, as Yoongi had mentioned it when you’d studied together a few weeks ago. 

“Just make sure you’re honest with him, and honest with yourself,” you say after a few beats of silence.

Hoseok purses his lips, nodding once. “Will do.”

The air turns awkward as Hoseok just keeps on staring at the knot in the wood. You feel bad - you used to be a lot closer to him, and in just a few weeks, your relationship shifted. But you think it might be for the better - you can’t imagine how Jungkook would feel if you were close to someone you used to sleep with, considering he’s jealous of a friend you’ve never done anything with.

Not that that would stop you from being friends with someone. Especially not when April 29th is coming soon, and with it, your situationship - you’re not sure you can call it a relationship - will end. 

“Where are you moving?” you ask.

“San Diego,” he replies quickly, and a shy smile appears on his lips, like the thought excites him. “I can’t wait to not have to deal with winter anymore.”

“I can imagine,” you say, chuckling. “Though winter wasn’t too bad this year.”

“If there was an inch of snow then it was bad.” He says it wisely, and this time you laugh as he breaks into a smile.

The conversation is easier after that. Still heavy, because you both know the friendship likely won’t survive the distance, but you still manage to have fun as you speak about classes, about life, and about what he’ll do once he’s in California. Half an hour passes like that, and then you move to the bar, agreeing to grab a single drink.

You settle on an Amaretto Sour, and Ria and Nabi join you at the bar. You end up doing Lychee bombs with them, and then you follow them all back to the table where the rest of your friends are, along with Jimin, Sera and Jungkook.

You’re relieved to see Lisa isn’t there. Not that she’s not nice. She always is, despite her obvious attraction towards Jungkook. And though she clearly senses that something’s happening between you and Jungkook, she’s never said anything, and you respect her for it.

You sit between Nabi and Ria, and Nabi quickly melts against Namjoon next to her. You snort at the sight, turning to say it to Ria, who seems to be in a staring contest with Seokjin across the table.

You don’t really know what’s happening between the two. Ria mentioned that she’s not interested in him, saying he’s just gotten out of a relatively long relationship, and you’re not close enough to Seokjin to know his opinion.

You’re just observant, and you know just how much the air fills with electricity when these two are concerned. Lightning is bound to strike at some point, and you just hope it does so without hurting anyone.

You wonder, is that how the people around you perceive you and Jungkook?

The evening unfolds, calmer than your usual outings - you find yourself going home just a little after midnight. Jungkook’s with you, and he unlocks the door as you slowly walk up the stairs, shooting you a glance.

“You sure everything’s okay?” he asks as you finally reach the top.

You purse your lips, meeting his gaze. The streetlight down the stairs reflects in his gaze, and he looks angelic, innocent like this.

“Yeah, I’m just…” you trail off. “You’re leaving soon.”

His features soften, and he opens the door for you to walk in, following behind you. “I know,” he says once he’s shut the door.

You turn the lights on, meeting his gaze. Unable to help yourself, you cup his cheek, thumb swiping at his skin. “Want to share a bed tonight?” you ask.

As if you haven’t been sharing a bed for weeks already.

“Yes, of course,” he immediately agrees, and he covers your hand with his own, tugging you closer. “If you kiss me first.”

That makes you smile, like only he knows to do, and you tiptoe, pressing your lips on his in a featherlike peck.

“That doesn’t count,” he complains, lips jutting out in a small pout.

“Then kiss me,” you challenge. “Kiss me stupid.”

You don’t need to ask twice - he closes the distance between your mouths, lips ravaging yours, and you lose your hands in his hair.

Later, after you’ve sucked his dick in the shower - you don’t like having sex on your period, but you still wanted to make him feel good - you lie down in your bed, the fairy lights making the atmosphere far gentler than it should be.

It’s treacherous, and you lie with your head on Jungkook’s chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. Chasing Cars is playing on his speaker, and you hold him tighter, putting all of your love in the act. He kisses the top of your head, mouth lingering against you.

“I’m happy you came tonight,” you admit. Indeed, despite the anxiety of Taehyung learning, you like hanging out with Jungkook. Like spending as much time as possible with him right now - the clock is ticking after all, and the sound resembles that of a bomb about to go off.

“Me too,” he whispers. 

You lift your head, meeting his gaze. “Have you talked to Taehyung recently?” 

The question takes him aback, and his eyebrows knit together. “I speak to him almost every day, why?”

Because you’ve been avoiding your brother like the plague. Because you know the second you speak to Taehyung, you’ll blurt out the truth, and you’re not ready to face his reaction yet.

You doubt you’ll ever be ready.

“How is he and the girl doing?” you ask. “Ariane?”

“Good,” Jungkook answers. “They’re pretty much official now.”

Your lips stretch in a thin line, and you rest your head on his chest again. 

You don’t want him to see the jealousy in your gaze.

“Good for him.” It sounds just as flat as you feel - like a tire pierced with a nail, emptied of all air.

Jungkook must feel it too, because his grip around you tightens, like he’s trying to fuse your bodies together. As if it’d save you from the looming heartbreak.

“We’ll figure it out,” Jungkook whispers a while later, when you thought he was asleep. 

You hope he doesn’t take your silence personal - you just don’t think you can figure it out.

Taehyung would never let it happen. So silence is what you offer Jungkook, and you wonder if the beat his heart skips is an indication that he’s breaking, much like you are breaking too.

Sunday, April 28th 

Time goes by fast. Sometimes, you think it’s even faster when you’re trying to hold on to something - like sand slipping through the fingers of a fist held tight, time has been slipping away.

The end is near. 

You’re sitting on Jungkook’s bed, watching him as he packs his suitcase. He’s been lazy, stopping often so that he can kiss you, hold you. He’s been clingy lately, much like you’ve been.

Like you’ve been trying to fit a whole relationship in just a few weeks. 

Jungkook lifts his head from his sock drawer, meeting your gaze. He smiles, but there’s sadness behind his pupils, lurking in the depths of his eyes. You want to take it away, but all you manage to do is smile a weak smile.

“I wonder if they’ll want to go to the Catacombs,” Jungkook says.

He’s been saying random stuff once in a while as he packs, grasping for a conversation you haven’t been able to join in. But you try, you always try, and you know he’s not mad at you for it.

Jungkook could never be mad at you. 

It’s strange how he changed in the last four months. You think back on the Incident, that dreaded Incident you had believed to be the most embarrassing thing in your life. Today, you know it wasn’t. It was the start of something great, something you wish never had an expiration date.

But nothing gold can stay, or so they say.

“I bet they’re creepy,” you answer. “Not sure I’d go if I were you.”

“I assume you’re the kind of person who gets scared while watching horror movies too, huh?” Jungkook teases, and he walks towards you, hands full of socks.

He drops them in the suitcase at your feet as you slightly shake your head, a teasing smirk growing on your lips. You doubt it meets your eyes, but it’s the best you can do.

“Says you, who prefers watching romance over action,” you tease.

Indeed, the first few times you’ve watched movies together, he’s suggested going for action first. But he never once appeared disappointed when you chose a romance movie, instead beaming at you as he nodded enthusiastically. It was adorable, endearing, like everything is when it comes to Jungkook.

You can hardly believe he used to sleep around, used to be the most renowned fuckboy in your college. Nowadays, Jungkook appears more like a hopeless romantic, and it’s easy to figure out why.

As someone who never received love from his family, he’s been craving it his whole life. At least you think so, and you’ve been giving it to him, pouring it to him, by actions rather than words.

“Nothing beats romance,” he declares, and you chuckle as he plops down on the bed next to you.

You turn your head towards him as he lies down, one hand on his chest.

“Is that why you cry in every movie?”

He frowns, a pout adorning his lips. “I don’t.”

You cock an eyebrow, because obviously he does, and you both burst out laughing at the same time. 

No matter how dreaded the circumstances are, the chemistry between you and Jeon Jungkook is undeniable. And as you look at him, you wonder if there’s a universe out there where you’re allowed to be with him. Where older brothers aren’t a thing, and where you get to call him yours, to scream it from the rooftops.

It douses your enthusiasm, and your smile falls as you look away. 

Jungkook sits up, cupping your cheek to force you to look at him again. He scans your features for a few seconds, and you stare at his eyebrow piercing, as if that will keep you from crumbling.

“You know…” he lets out. He sucks on his lower lip piercings, pulling at them so hard you think it has to hurt. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Yeah?”

He nods. “I really want to make us work.”

His simple sentence empties everything in your head, in your soul, until there’s just him left. 

“But how?”

“I’ll speak to Taehyung,” he says, for what has to be the thousandth time. Indeed, you’ve had that conversation before, but you never once agreed. “I’ll speak to him in Paris, and then when I come back this doesn’t have to be over.”

“This?” you repeat.

“Us.”

You sigh, and you look between his eyes. Hope lights his gaze, and you think there has to be a museum out there to exhibit such beauty. 

Jungkook is breathtaking in every way that matters.

“Tae will kill you,” you say, and the hope slowly withers like flowers in the fall. “Try to have a nice trip instead.”

“Then we can talk to him when I come back,�� Jungkook suggests. “Together. I can use you as a human shield if he tries to kill me.”

You snort, and the hope reignites in his gaze. “What if it doesn’t work?”

“Then he’ll be mad,” Jungkook simply states. “I don’t want to lose you, peach.”

Fuck. You’re in love, and you’re in love deep.

“You might lose his friendship,” you say, but your resolve is melting away far quicker than you expected. Because he’s offering you a silver lining, a life vest in the storm that’s been raging inside your head for weeks.

“I honestly don’t care,” Jungkook says, but you see it in his eyes: he cares, and he’d be hurt. “I’m sure he’ll get over it.”

You highly doubt so but… what if he does? What if he forgives Jungkook, forgives you?

Then you wouldn’t need to travel to another universe. You’d have this one, and you’d have Jungkook.

Maybe you should try.

“Are you sure?” you ask, voice smaller than the atoms holding your body together.

He nods vehemently. “I am. 100%. I don’t want to lose you when we’ve barely just started.”

“Kook…”

He kisses you then, as if he needs to show you with action instead of words. You end up tangled in his bed, your bodies connected on a level deeper than the physical, yet you wouldn’t dare say it. And he doesn’t either, not even when you inevitably go to bed later that evening. 

You’re nestled in his embrace, a few minutes after he’s turned his LED lights off, when you say, “Kook?”

“Mmh?”

“Don’t talk to Tae in Paris,” you say. “We’ll wait for you to come back. And we’ll talk to him together.”

“Okay,” he whispers. “Okay. If that’s your wish, then I can do it.” He’d said so earlier after all.

You nod. “I think it’s better if it comes from us both instead of just you.”

“Makes sense.” Jungkook kisses your forehead, and a soft smile spreads on your lips. “And peach?”

“Yeah?” you murmur.

“If you miss me too much, feel free to sleep in my bed and wear my clothes, okay?”

“Okay.”

He kisses your forehead again, and despite the words exchanged, you fear it might mean goodbye.

Prev | Chapter 10.5 | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

no but why did I forget how sad this chapter was? Help, they are so afraid to lose each other :') anywayyys what did you guys think about this chapter? Did you like it?? Please let me know:)

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

[xxxanteaterxxx]

Roommates AU

roommate!remuslupin x fem!reader

CW: swearing, thats about it really.

lemme know what you thinkkkkk part 2

this is totally inspired by @moonstruckme btw

"So, do you have anything specific that you're looking for mate?" James asked, staring down out his laptop. Remus sighed; he had been looking for an apartment for weeks, but nothing had turned up in the area he was interested in.

"Honestly, anywhere would work at this point." Remus was looking at his own laptop, scrolling through all of the postings he could find. Nothing was available through, and Remus was about to be homeless.

He couldn't afford to keep living in his current flat, not since his roommate had decided to move back home. Remus had been stressing over this for months now, ever since his roommate had told him the news.

"How do you feel about a roommate bud?" Sirius asked suddenly, sitting up from where he had been laying down and scrolling on his phone. He stretched his arm out towards Remus, waving his phone around.

Remus snatched it and took a look at the posting Sirius was looking at.

"Two bedroom and one bath apartment. Looking for a roommate ASAP. Rent is $500 a month (utilities included). Message me for more information. :)"

There were pictures underneath the post. Remus clicked on the first one. It looked nice enough to him. He forwarded the post to himself before he messaged about it.

"I'm gonna send a message, see if I can schedule a walk through." Remus sighed as he tossed the phone back to Sirius, who seemed highly impressed at his find. He picked up his own phone and found the post.

He clicked the message icon at the bottom of the post.

`Hey, I saw your post about looking for a roommate. Is the room still available? Could I maybe come by for a tour soon? `

He sent the message before setting his phone to the side and continuing the search. Not expecting to receive a response for a while.

Not even two minutes later his phone buzzed. He grabbed it and sat up when he saw the response.

`Would today work? Maybe around 12? `

Remus was quick to respond.

`Yes, 12 works great!`

Then he followed it up with another.

`Can I bring some friends?`

The reply came just as fast.

'Yes, I'll see you then!'

Remus stood up, a large smile growing on his face. To say he was relieved was the understatement of the year. He looked at his friends.

"I've got a tour scheduled at 12 today, you guys wanna come?" He questioned. He really hoped they would, what if you were a serial killer and the post was only a ploy to draw unsuspecting victims in.

"Course mate! Its 10 now, what if we head out and find some food around that area?" James asked, causing Sirius to jump up quickly.

"Let me grab my shoes!" He called as he raced down the hall to his room. Remus shook his head and gathered his belongings.

It was right around 12 when there was a knock at your apartment door. Abandoning the cookies you were making, you raced over to the door. You had almost made it too, but the fuzzy socks adorning your feet caused you to fall.

You groaned as you pushed yourself up and yanked the door open with a large smile on your face. It dropped slightly when you realized that it was men on the other side.

"Hi! I'm Remus, we're uh here for the apartment tour?" There were three guys standing outside. The tallest of them was the one who had spoken. You nodded and opened the door wider for them to enter.

"I'm Y/N! I'm sorry about the mess..." You gestured around the living room. "It's my day off and I've been bingeing some shows." You kept a smile on your face as one of the other boys chuckled.

"So, let's get on with the tour!" You clapped your hands together. "I'll show you around and then let you guys look around by yourselves, yeah?" Receiving nods, you turned around and began the speech you had practiced in the mirror when you and received the message.

"Obviously this is the living room..." You mumbled and then walked towards the kitchen. Before entering you turned around. "Warning, I'm making cookies right now, so the kitchen is a bit of a mess."

You entered and they filed in after you, looking around and nodding to themselves. "Cookies anyone?" You asked as you grabbed the plate of the ones that were ready. They each reached out and grabbed one.

"These are amazing." You heard someone moan.

Moving on you began to lead them upstairs. "Right there is the bathroom and right here is my room and right here is the other room!" You said walking quickly down the hall and pointing things out as you did so. You turned around to face the three. "Any questions?"

No one answered and so you nodded. "Smashing, have a look around. I'll be in the kitchen if you need me!" And with that, you were darting back downstairs just as the alarm for your second round of cookies beeped.

Sirius was staring after you like you were the love of his life. His mouth hung open and his eyes were wide. James cleared his throat while looking at his best friend and roommate in amusement. Sirius shook his head and turned to look at Remus.

"Well, if you don't want to live here, I sure fucking do." He said before he walked past Remus and into the room you had said was the available one.

It was a nice sized bedroom with a window and a very large closet. Remus was quite impressed with it actually and you seemed nice enough.

He could definitely see himself living here, even if it was with a total stranger. He walked back out into the hall, heading for the bathroom to have a look in there.

You seemed pretty neat; all of your stuff was kept on a shelf and in a couple of drawers. Remus noticed how big the bathtub was, and he sighed at the thought of a nice bath.

As he walked further down the hall, he realized that your door was open, and he had to fight the urge to take a look around. He turned to walk back to the room that would be his so that he could ask James what he thought but his two friends were gone.

He listened for a second as he heard talking coming from downstairs. He turned and made his way towards the stairs. As he made it down and saw that no one was in the living room, he headed for the kitchen next. There he saw James and Sirius sat at the table while you danced around the kitchen cleaning things up.

"These are delicious, by the way." James spoke after chewing what looked to be one of the cookies you had made. You turned from the sink to grin at him. When you saw Remus, you smiled and wiped your hands on the towel thrown over your shoulder.

"So, what did you think?" You smiled at him this time, your question had alerted the other two to his presence. Sirius answered before Remus himself could.

"Well, if he doesn't want it, I fucking do!" He spoke loudly causing James to look at him.

"And what about our fucking apartment?" James asked incredulously, looking at his friend as if he had just stabbed him. You paid them no mind as you looked at Remus for an answer.

"I'll take it. When's the soonest I can move in?" Your shoulders sagging in relief at his answer.

"Oh, thank fuck, no one else has responded and the last chap I had look around gave me the Heeby jeebies." You paused, blowing a strand of hair from your face as you thought about it. "How about as soon as bloody possible eh? That work for you?"

Remus nodded and a brilliant smile formed on your face.

"Great, let me fetch the lease agreement."

[percyluvr]

percy jackson x aphrodite cabin counselor!reader summary: valentine's day at chb brings you and your best friend closer than ever wc: 1.4k

Today was your favorite day at Camp Half-Blood, Valentine's Day. Maybe it was cliché considering you were an Aphrodite kid, but there was just something about Valentine's Day that was addicting to you. Maybe it was the weeks leading up to it that you played matchmaker even more than you normally did as counselor of the Aphrodite cabin, or maybe it was the cute and overpriced chocolate that the Stoll brothers smuggled into camp for the annual Valentine's party.

However, one thing was for sure: it was not because you had a valentine or were in love. Well, you were in love but still had no valentine which came as a huge surprise to all of your siblings, but even more so your friends at camp. 

Since you were 14 and made cabin counselor, you always had a date to your own Valentine's party. This year was different though, you'd realized your crush on your best friend at the Christmas party and knew then that you couldn't break another person's heart by taking them as your date to the Valentine's party and then dumping them the next day. After you completed the 'rite of passage' as an Aphrodite kid, you decided that you didn't have it in you to break anyone else's heart, so whoever you dated next had to be it for you. 

Today you'd woken up nearly on cloud nine. You'd gone about your routine as normal and then got to work assigning tasks for your siblings to set up the party. While everyone at Camp Half-Blood was invited to the party, you still liked to make invites, because really, why have a party if you can't make cute pink invites for everyone?

Usually, parties like this for 'minor' holidays wouldn't be allowed at Camp Half-Blood, but Mr. D and Chiron, mostly Chiron, made an exception because of how much it meant to the Aphrodite cabin. Mr. D only let you host it because you somehow convinced the Olympians to let his wife come down to accompany him to the party. 

Now, after assigning your siblings to their task, handing out invites, and making sure the party was ready, you were sitting at your vanity, redoing your makeup and hair, while your best friend, Percy, laid on your bed and juggled your stuffed animals, which you usually would have found weird or annoying, but now you couldn't help but notice just how beautiful he was. His black hair always sat messily atop his head, nearly never fully dry because he couldn't keep himself from jumping into the water whenever he felt like it. Before last year, you would've fixed his hair and chastised him for jumping into the lake because it made his hair all weird, but you just admired it now. 

Not wanting to get caught staring, you turned back to your mirror, not noticing the way Percy stared at you with hearts in his eyes in the back.

"You look so cute," he said mindlessly, his brain immediately yelling at his mouth for always saying things he meant to keep to himself.

"What'd you say?" You ask, mad at yourself for not hearing him and hanging onto his every word.

Percy had never felt relief like that in his life.

"Nothing, I just said you look like a fruit," he said, mentally facepalming. "You look like a fruit," what the hell is my problem?

"That doesn't even make sense, but okay," you say, rolling your eyes. 

"Sure it does, if your mind is as awesome as mine."

If your eyes could roll to the back of your head and stay there, yours might as well have already because of how many times you roll your eyes around this boy, but never out of real annoyance. How can someone who would typically be so annoying with his stupid jokes be so cute.

"No," you say to yourself. If I keep thinking like this, I'm just going to mess up our friendship.

Little did you know, the boy you were thinking about was thinking about you in the exact same way.

"Hey, when are you going to be done? The party is in like 10 minutes."

"Yes, Percy, I know, it's not like I'm hosting the party or anything," you say, feigning annoyance. "You can go on your own if I'm taking up too much of your 'precious time', y'know," you say, hoping but deep down knowing that he wouldn't go without you.

"Oh come on, you know damn well I would never go to a party without you, especially a party you're hosting, we're best friends," he says, immediately regretting the last words he said as soon as he heard himself say them.

Friends. That's all you are to him.

"Right, what am I thinking?" He hears you 'laugh', and if Percy Jackson knows anything about anything, he knows that is not a real laugh, but he doesn't know what to say to make it better. 

"Well, I'm done now, I just need to put on my dress, just stay here," you state, sauntering off into the walk in closet. You choose your cutest red dress to pair with your darling white cowboy boots, but can't manage to tie the straps into bows yourself, so you decide to ask Percy for help.

"Hey, can you come in here? I need your help tying this!"

Percy blushes, but walks in nonetheless, and is immediately astonished at the amount of clothes in just your closet alone.

The sight of your bare shoulder and small manicured hands holding up your dress was enough for him to combust on the spot, but he held himself together. 

The sight of the dark red tint on his cheeks brought a cheeky smile to your face, knowing that your plan was set in motion.

His fingers shakily grabbed the ribbons on the dress and tied a bow on each shoulder, but not without him accidentally touching your shoulders with the pads of his fingers. 

His touch could've lit you on fire, even though he was a son of Poseidon, not Hephaestus. Even the tiniest touch was absolutely intoxicating.

You turned around and grabbed Percy's hand. If touching your shoulders was just the first step of becoming addicted to you, he was fully ready to do anything for you now.

It's not like you two never touched each other, but it was never quite like this. Not when you both had a sneaky feeling that the other felt the same way that you did.

Even when you got to the party, you stayed near each other. When you went up to the front of the party and went over your yearly Valentine’s spiel, he was at your side. When you went to get some of the definitely not spiked punch, he was at your side. 

When the slow dance songs came on, he gently grabbed and moved your hand from his to his shoulder.

The way you looked into each other's eyes could in itself be a public display of affection. The pure love in your eyes for each other shut all of your admirers down without you even having to say anything. Your faces slowly got closer to each other, still staring into each other's eyes.

"Are we about to kiss right now?" he asked, mostly as a joke, but a small part of him still had hope.

What he didn't expect was for you to softly, with your honey-like voice, "I don't know about you, but I definitely hope so."

With your consent, he felt like his lifelong wish was coming true, and he immediately pushed his slightly chapped lips onto yours. 

The feeling of finally getting to kiss each other was like the best thing in the world but 500x better. He tasted vaguely like a weird but good combination of saltwater and cookies. 

The longer you kissed, the more passionate it got, and this was definitely pda now. His sharp teeth gently bit down on your bottom lip, causing your mouth to open, allowing his tongue in. You'd never felt something so perfect in your life.

When the two of you finally split, it felt like when you were a little kid and your parents took away your toys.

"Not sure about you, sugar, but that was singlehandedly the best kiss I've had in my life," he said with a smile.

a/n: book!percy my beloved also happy valentine's day to everyone reading this! <3

[daenysx]

hi hello gorgeous <3

Can i request a James x fem reader who calls him shortly after she leaves for work because she fell hard on a pavement and scratched her knee and elbow and hurt her wrist and he comes to get her and finds her crying on the pavement and poor thing is so worried for her and takes care of her?

(This exact thing happened to me today but only i was going to a final and i sat and cried but only difference is THAT I DO NOT HAVE JAMES POTTER Im sobbing)

hi baby, i hope you're okay!! thank you for requesting, here's our perfect fictional boyfriend for you, i hope you enjoy <333

james potter x fem!reader ♡

"jamie?"

james drops the plate he has in his hand on the counter. are you crying? you sound like you're crying and that's literally his worst nightmare.

"baby?" he says quickly. "what happened? are you okay?"

your voice sounds muffled through the phone. james hears you take a deep breath before speaking. "i fell."

"where are you?" he asks, panicking. "are you okay?"

you try to walk out of people's way as you speak to james. your unoccupied wrist hurts very much and you feel something warm in your sweater.

"i couldn't get to work." you say to him. "i'm in front of the flower shop next to the park now."

"i'm coming." he says, grabbing the car keys. "10 minutes, okay? can you wait for me?"

"yes." you say. "don't rush, i'm fine."

you don't sound fine but james is sane enough to drive carefully. he prays to traffic fairies for empty roads, he can see the florist' shop in almost 9 minutes. he sees you next thing, you're sitting on the edge of a pavement with a small tear on your jeans.

he parks the car with half a mind, rushes to your side. your eyes look puffy, cheeks blushed with adrenaline and possibly pain. you hold your wrist in your other palm, james can see a tiny bit of blood dripping from your knee.

"angel." he says, cupping your cheeks. "are you okay? does it hurt too badly?"

you don't answer, instead you put your head on james's chest and cry slowly against him. you called your boss while waiting for james and thank god she's nice enough to tell you to take the day off. james holds you, the street is not too crowded and people prefer using the other side of the pavement. you cry your embarrasment and hurting on your boyfriend as he gently tries to calm you down.

"we need to see a doctor." james says before kissing your forehead. "your knee looks bad."

"it's not actually that bad." you say, sniffing. "it's just a scratch. my wrist hurts a bit."

"angel." he says, he uses his trying-to-be-convincing voice. "please don't be stubborn. they can at least make sure nothing's wrong."

"i'm fine, jamie." you say, using your better hand to dry your tears. "i'm mostly crying because of embarrassment. can we please go home?"

you're looking at him with widened eyes and james has nothing else to say. "but if you still feel pain we will go to a hospital, okay?"

you nod obediently. james helps you stand up, he takes your bag on his shoulder. you hold his hand as he leads you to car. he makes sure you're okay before sitting on the driver' seat.

he holds your hand the entire way. your tears are almost gone, you're not hurting anywhere badly but your body feels sore. you dream of your warm bed and a cup of hot tea. james's thumb rubs the back of your hand. you look at his face, his side profile is something out of heaven. you squeeze his fingers, he gives you a perfect smile. "i'm gonna take care of you so well, you'll feel better than ever." he promises you sweetly.

"i know, jamie." you say. "thank you for picking me up."

"please, angel." he scoffs. "in what world i'm leaving my girl alone in the street when she falls?"

you bring his hand to your lips to give him a little kiss. his heartbeat fastens. he's gonna give you the nicest doctor treatment when you get home. he'll probably be stuck to your side until you get sick of him.

the smell of home has never felt better. you go to the bathroom first thing, james comes after you. "let's get you out of these clothes."

"been waiting for that, haven't you?" you tease. james deserves a few jokes, he's been worried too much.

"since the minute you left for work." he says. he helps you until you are left in your panties and your little tank top.

"baby." he whispers when he sees your knee clearly. he makes a pitiful sound. your knee is scratched and it looks a bit bloody. your wrist feels better but it's definitely gonna need ice. you show james your elbow, it has a tinier scratch too. james starts cleaning up your knee first with you sitting on the closed lid of the toilet.

"tell me if it hurts." he says. he has big hands but he knows how to use them gently. you don't make a sound when he cleans up your knee. "do you think we can use the cream we got for my hand on your scratches?" he asks. james once hit his hand on the sharp side of his locker in gym and he had to use a cream for his scar. you think it might be work for you. you nod.

he cleans up your elbow too, you're thankful none of your little scars need wrapping. james brings the cream and he applies it on your skin. you both wash your hands when james finishes up. he takes your dirty clothes from the bathroom floor before leaving.

"i think i need ice for my wrist." you say. "can you get me an ice pack, handsome?"

"of course." he says. "go to bed, sweetheart, i'll be right back."

your entire body relaxes when it hits the bed, you are careful when you settle down but still it feels so nice to be home. falling down in the street is something so suddenly happened, you think it's funny how you can remember the exact moment and the embarrassment you felt on the pavement. it's okay, though. it's normal.

your hero comes back with an ice pack. he sits on your side of bed, takes your wrist to his free hand softly. he presses the ice pack on the slight swollen skin. you let out a shaky breath.

"does it hurt?" he asks, his brows raised.

"no, just cold." you answer. you're gonna be okay.

james kisses your forehead. his hand still holds the ice pack. "are you hungry?" he asks. "can i get you anything?"

you shake your head. "i just wanna sleep, jamie. get under the blanket?" you ask with a hopeful look and a gentle voice. two things james can never resist.

he joins you under the blanket. he has to be the big spoon to hold the ice pack still on your wrist. he kisses your head affectionally. "do you feel better?" he asks. it doesn't hurt to be sure.

you nod. "i'm fine, promise."

sleep comes easily, especially when james draws shapes on your arm with his free hand. you love the occasional kisses he brushes on your head. he holds the ice on your skin until it starts melting, no matter how freezing it is against his hand. it's nothing more painful than seeing his girl cry.

[obeymeshallwedateaddict]

Accidental first kiss

I was wondering.. what if MC and each of the brothers shared an accidental first kiss that was unexpected but highly appreciated that may or may not have led to something more. So I wrote it. Enjoy!

Contains: Fuff

You can find more of my work here: Masterlist

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

Lucifer

Lucifer ordered you to bring a few books from the RAD library that would help him for his latest report that Diavolo requested. The problem is that the books are not just a few. They are a whole pile! You swear there are like 10-15 books in your arms that are so heavy you have to take multiple breaks on the way from the RAD library to The House of Lamentation. And on top of everything you can barely see where you're going with all those books in your arms. How will even Lucifer manage to go through all of them to find what he is looking for in just a couple of hours? And why didn't he send someone with you to help? This man is full of secrets. When you finally reach his study after who-knows-how-long you knock on the door and sigh while waiting for Lucifer's simple and calm "Come in." It's frustrating how Lucifer is doing absolutely nothing and is completely relaxed while you carry around a huge pile of heavy books. You feel as though your arms are about to rip. You open the door and see Lucifer sitting calmly on one of the armchairs with a glass of demonus in hand listening to the faint sound of the record that's playing in the background. But then suddenly you trip over the loose rug and before you know it Lucifer in his demon form is right there holding you in his arms. His wings are wrapped around you, preventing you from falling. Accidentally though your lips brush against his as you try to keep your balance. Both of you immediately freeze in your tracks. That was your first kiss... All the books are there, surrounding you on the floor while Lucifer's eyes are on you, slightly widened with the red glint in them shining bright and a soft blush covering his cheeks. You probably look the same but you can't bring yourself to care. After a full minute of silence you feel Lucifer's grip on you tighten and his breath by your ear as he whispers in a firm tone. "Again." Before kissing you one more time. The right way. The kiss was passionate and full of pent up tension.

Mammon

You, Mammon and the rest of the brothers (except Lucifer, because he said he had an important meeting with Diavolo) are playing hide and seek in The House of Lamentation. It's nice when Lucifer is out of the house once in a while and you as well as his brothers have extra free time. You always think of something to do whether it will be to play a game, to run around the house like wild animals (which always ended up in Lucifer's room with all of you on your knees before the eldest because someone broke a vase or a painting) or playing hide and seek just like today. It was Mammon's turn to seek while you and the rest were hiding around the house. You have been hiding behind the door in Mammon's room because you thought the demon wouldn't think you'd be in his room. Chuckling to the few loud "Found ya's" of Mammon and the brother's groans when they were found led to you being the last one to be found. You waited patiently behind the door, counting the minutes that had passed when the door opened. You see Mammon's boot walk in and decide to scare him (Since our boy is easily scared) You jump from behind the door with a loud "Boo!" Mammon screams and turns around but you were right behind him which caused your lips to meet in the sudden turn. Your first kiss! He immediately pulls away and takes a few steps back, panting even though the kiss wasn't something big. His whole face was red and he was staring at you with wide eyes. You chuckle to the sight even though your cheeks have also taken a pinkish shade. After a short few seconds he speaks so loud you swear the whole house can hear him.

-Oi! Human! Don't scare me off like that! What's the big idea of kissin' me hm? – You roll your eyes.

-What? You liked it so much you want another? – You tease and he scoffs.

-Of course I didn't like it

Silence follows as you wait for the second-born's confession, staring at him.

-F-fine! I liked it, MC. No!! I loved it!

Leviathan

For the past few days Levi has been bragging about this new VR set he bought and how amazing it was. Today he had finally invited you to try it out. You were excited since Levi mentioned the high quality of the set. Your only concern was the fact that the third-born mentioned that he bought the set for cheap off of Akuzon. You teased him for acting like Mammon at the time and he offered you a grumpy face. You knock on his door in anticipation.

-What's the secret phrase? – You roll your eyes and knock loudly.

-Oh come on Levi! We are way past your goddamn secret phrase! – You speak loudly enough so he could hear your slight frustration.

-Secret phrase is required to enter my room and you know it, MC – Says Levi through the door with a hint of mischief in his yet serious voice.

-Oh my god, Levi! Ugh what was it... (You mumble the last part to yourself)

-The second lord... – You begin.

-...attempted to steal the Lord of Corruption's platypus, which could lay golden eggs... – The third born continues

-...having incurred the wrath of the Lord of Corruption for this misdeed...

-...it was ordered that the second lord would be forever dubbed The Lord of Fools... You may enter. – You and Leviathan finish the secret phrase and you finally enter.

-Levi, don't you think it's too long?

-What's too long?

-The secret phrase.

-Absolutely not. – Levi chuckles awkwardly.

After that Levi helps you put on the VR set and you play an adventurous game where you are a devil slayer. You get so caught up in the game that you lose track of time and levi just cheers on you the whole time, watching you play on his monitor. Unfortunately though the electricity turns off and so does the game. You were right in the middle of a fight so you swirl and bump into the third-born which causes your lips to meet. Your first ever kiss! You immediately pull away and take the VR set off. The whole room is silent and dark. The only thing you can see is the faint yellow glow from Levi's eyes and hear his hitched breathing.

-W-w-w-we didn't j-j-j-just... – The purple haired demon stutters.

-We just kissed.. – You whisper loud enough for him to hear. You can practically sense the blush on his cheeks.

-AHHHHH NOOO WAYYYY I JUST K-K-KISSED MY BEST FRIEND AAAAHHH – Levi screams and you chuckle.

Satan

You were in your room reading a beauty magazine that Asmo had lent you when a knock on the door interrupted your thoughts.

-MC, can I come in?

You glanced up, not expecting any visitors, but knowing how random the brothers could be.

-Yeah –you called out, loud enough for whoever it was to hear. The door opened to reveal blond hair and bluey-green eyes, and your expression immediately brightened. It was Satan! It wasn’t often he came to your room unannounced, so you knew he had something on his mind.

-MC, I need your help with something –the fourth-born said, his tone serious yet inviting. You gave him a curious look and mumbled, “Mhm?”

-I’ve been looking for a book but can’t find it in the library alone. Will you help me?

-Of course, Satan.

You both made your way to the library. When you arrived, he revealed the title of the book: "Worst Curses for Prideful Demons." The title almost made you laugh; it was clearly aimed at Lucifer.

After about half an hour of searching, you and Satan finally reached a bookshelf where the book might be. There it was, on one of the upper shelves. Both of you reached for it simultaneously, causing your bodies to collide. In an unexpected turn of events, your lips met his in a brief, accidental kiss.

He pulled back slightly, his breath still warm on your lips, his cheeks a rosy pink and his eyes wide with surprise. Before you could react, you felt his fingers intertwine with yours as he pulled you into a tight embrace.

-I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time – he whispered into your ear, holding you close.

Asmodeus

Diavolo was hosting a masquerade ball in the Devildom in a couple of weeks and it was set to be the biggest event in Devildom's history! A lot of demons were going to attend: royals, nobles and commoners alike. Though the only problem was that you still didn't have a dance partner for the event. One night just as you were about to go to bed someone barged in through the door.

-MC, sweetheart! Yours truly has come to visit you with an important question! – The fifth-born states confidently while closing the door.

-What is it, Asmo? I was going to bed... – You mutter with a tired tone.

-Will you dance with me? – The sudden question caught you off guard and your eyes widen before staring at him with a questioning look.

-What dance? – You asked, still processing his sudden entrance.

-The masquerade ball, Hun! I want you to be my partner for the ball! – You smile widely when you hear that and run up to hug him. He wraps his arms around you and holds you gently.

-So? – He asks.

-Of course! – you exclaimed.

However, there was only one problem. You didn't know how to dance. And on top of everything you were told that the dance was exceptionally complex. Just the thought of that made your head spin. When you mentioned that to Asmodeus he just smiled at you and told you not to worry. He was going to teach you the dance! And there you were.. a few days later in the living room of The House of Lamentation. Asmo was guiding you into the dance. He was dancing so effortlessly while you struggled to keep up with the intricate moves.

-One, two, three... One, two, three.. – Asmo repeated as you watched your feet.

-One, two- No, MC! The other leg! – He spoke but you stumbled upon your feet and fell into the fifth born's arms.

-MC! Be careful! – He warns when he catches you but then your lips accidentally meet his for the first time. He doesn't pull away. Instead he kissed you gently with a smirk growing on his face. His lips were moving graciously against yours. But you were too shocked to return the kiss. After it ends you look away from him in embarrassment, which earns you chuckle.

-MC... Oh my sweet MC.. why didn't you tell me you wanted to kiss? – Your cheeks take a deeper shade of pink to his words.

Beelzebub

It was late into the night. You were quietly watching an anime that Levi recommended. You made sure to be careful so you wouldn't be heard by Lucifer during one of his patrols. All of a sudden though someone walks in through the door and terror floods your expression, thinking it's Lucifer who somehow heard the sound from the anime. You quickly cover yourself but you quickly realise it was unnecessary when a large hand pats over the blankets.

-MC? Are you awake? – The voice of the sixth-born echoes through the room quietly and you sigh in relief when you recognize whose it is.

-Beel! You scared me! I thought it was Lucifer! – You snap at him while making sure to keep your voice down.

-He finished the patrol one hour ago. I assume he is either asleep or doing work in his room at the moment. – Beelzebub explains and you nod as a sign that you understand.

-Alright. Anyway, Beel. What are you doing here at this hour?

-I was hungry and I decided to bake some sweets. I just thought you would want to help me. – the orange haired demon murmurs.

-I would love to help! – You answer him happily.

About 20 minutes later you find yourself in the kitchen with Beelzebub. You are at your fifth attempt at making cookie dough, because Beel had finished the previous batches before you could even tell him to sample them. And the fifth attempt is the lucky one! Beel has kept his hands to himself the whole time while you were making the dough.

-Vanilla extract right? – Beel asks as he looks at the almost-ready-to-bake dough.

-I'll get it. – You respond and reach for the vanilla extract in the cupboard. After you take it, it accidentally slips out of your hands and falls on the floor. Fortunately the little container was plastic and it didn't break or spill. You bend down, reaching to get it when suddenly the sixth-born's lips meet yours. You immediately pull away and look at him with flushed cheeks. Turns out you were so focused on the little container of vanilla extract that you didn't notice Beel who also had bent down to get it after it fell and there you were. Gazing at Beel whose cheek color was matching yours and you two had just shared a soft first kiss. The scent of chocolate and dough filled the kitchen, along with the warmth of the oven, which was ready for baking.

-MC, I don't think I'm that hungry anymore. – Beelzebub whispers to you, which makes you blush even more, realising that all this time he was hungry for a kiss. Not for chocolate chip cookies.

Belphegor

You were walking down the hallway to your next class at RAD when you heard the seventh-born's voice echo through the hallway.

-MC! There you are! Could I talk to you for a bit?

You turn to face him and wait for him to walk up to you.

-Yeah? What's up? – you question.

-Are you free tonight? Tonight there is going to be a big starfall in the Devildom and I was wondering if you'd want to watch it together? – He asks, looking at you with a hopeful look.

-Of course! I haven't witnessed a starfall in a long time! –You state in excitement.

-Great! I will see you in the planetarium after dinner! –The excitement in Belphegor's eyes to watch a starfall with you makes your heart melt.

When dinner time comes you're already impatient for the starfall and barely manage to sit through the whole dinner. Afterwards you rush to the planetarium and see Belphegor napping quietly on a fluffy blanket that's spread on the floor with candles surrounding it. They are giving a cozy glow and warmth. The thought that Belphie did all of this for you makes you happy.

-Belphie, I'm here. – You say in an attempt to wake him up. Though he shows no signs of doing so. You walk up to him and sit on the blanket. Chuckling to the cute sight of the youngest sleeping so peacefully you lay down and watch the sky, waiting for the starfall. After a few minutes you feel commotion and turn to look at Belphegor who seems to have woken up.

-Hm? MC? Why didn't you say you arrived? – He questions.

-When I came you were sleeping and if I tried to wake you you wouldn't even move, so I decided to let you sleep. – You explain to the demon while he rubs his eyes.

You and Belphegor talk while waiting for the starfall to begin. After a few minutes you notice something moving in the sky and as you were leaning on both your arms you move one of them to point out the beginning of the starfall.

-Belphie! Look!

Unexpectedly though you lose balance and fall onto Belphegor who was following where your finger was pointing at the sky. Your lips meet his as he catches you. He takes a breath and kisses you gently before you pull away to see him flustered after your first kiss.

-You know... People say if you make a wish on a shooting star your wish comes true. I wished that someday I would gain the courage to kiss you. Turns out luck is on my side today. – Belphegor says quietly as your cheeks turn into a deeper shade of pink. And there you were with Belphegor after sharing a kiss under the night sky during a starfall, surrounded by candles and a cozy atmosphere.

[twice-inamillion]

The Company

Red Velvet

Smut (anal, creampie, caught during sex, first time sex, mentioning of virginity)

Chapter 10

1935 Words

(OC wants to claim his prize for debuting Irene’s group. Not everything goes according to plan, and sacrifices are made.)

“Unnie, we’re excited to debut! Can’t believe it’s actually happening!”

“You girls deserve it.”

”It's all because of you, unnie,” say the members in unison.

”How are we debuting earlier than the other girl group?” asks Wendy.

“Irene unnie has pull with the CEO, that’s why, haha,” says Joy jokingly.

”Shhh, don’t even joke around; if the other trainees hear you, they are going to complain.”

���Don’t worry about what people say, you girls deserve it. As the oldest, it's my responsibility to take care of you girls.”

”How about we celebrate later tonight?” asks Seulgi.

”That sounds like fun,” replies Wendy.

”What about, unnie?” asks Joy.

”I wish I could, but I need to get some things done. You girls celebrate without me. Here, order some food with this,” Irene gives Seulgi the company credit card.

“Haha, we are going to eat!”

Irene then exits the room and pulls her phone out to see the text message she got during the gathering. “What does he want now?” She reads the message, “IU is out abroad, so get cleaned up; I’ll be stopping by your place later tonight.”

Later that evening, the members celebrate their upcoming debut by ordering some takeout and participating in around of round karaoke. Everytime they take a selfie they send it to Irene but get no response. “We should take some food to unnie. I don’t think she has enough time to cook food after working so late these past few days,” says Wendy.”

”You’re right, let’s surprise her.”

”Yes, maybe we can bring some party streamers and surprise her, haha,” says Joy.

The members pack some food in tupperware and head to Irene’s apartment. They try to be as careful as possible not to get caught by the staff who look for trainees violating their curfew. They exit the elevator and turn towards the hallway to find her apartment. Standing in front of her door, they try to remember her key code from the time they visited her a while back.

The door unlocks, and they all enter her apartment and place the food on the countertop. They look around, but there is no sign of Irene until they hear some noise coming from the room at the end of the hallway.

Curious, they slowly tiptoe and see the door slightly open and look through the little slit and are shocked at the scene. They see Irene, their oldest member and the mother-type figure of the group nude, getting pounded on all fours.

“I’ve missed this ass so much,” as you give it a nice smack. You spread her ass cheeks wide open, giving you a nice view of her pucker hole.

Irene whines,“Just get it over with.”

You align your cock to her pucker hole and slowly press it into her hole, causing her to grunt. She tries to hold her composure but can't when you grab hold of her hips and slam your cock all the way inside.

“Oh fuck! You're being too rough!”

You don't pay any attention and begin to thrust rapidly. Irene buries her head onto the pillow to muffle her expression. You slap her ass continuously, leaving your handprint on her ass.

Minutes pass, and you pull out and say, “How about I claim my present right now?”

Irene lifts her head and turns to you, “No, please, I'm not really yet. Just give me some more time to prepare.”

“Why should I? Remember the deal we made a while back?” as you trace your thumb against her folds.

“Yes, I remember and I'll do it, but just not today.”

“Then when?”

“How about after our debut? Give me a few more days.”

You rub your thumb against her lips and say, “Alright, but this is the last time I'm going to wait.”

“Okay.”

“Be thankful I'm patient with you; someone else wouldn't have done the same.”

“Yes I know, thank you.”

“Now raise up your ass; I want to cum inside.”

Irene positions herself a bit better and raises up her ass. With one hand, you spread her ass cheek and insert your cock back inside, “Fuck, to think that you offered your own virginity for the sake of your group, haha.”

Irene groans as she feels your cock stretch her ass completely and buries her head into her pillow to prevent herself from moaning.

On the other side of the door, the members watch as the oldest gets fucked from behind. They come to the realization of Irene's commitment to them, even at the cost of giving her own virginity.

Joy then whispers, “Unnie, let's go; I don't want to see what happens next.”

“Same here; I want to go.”

Seulgi responds, “Let's be quiet,” and the three of them turn around towards the exit.

Suddenly, they hear a loud smack and a shout, “I'm going to cum inside you!” They hear Irene yell out loud and try to cover their ears. The members rush back to their dorm and try to take in what they just saw.

“I can’t believe Irene unnie and the CEO were doing it” says Joy.

Wendy responds, ”I know; Irene said she was busy, so I thought she was working.”

”Maybe it was an excuse,” says Seulgi.

”I don’t know. Doesn’t seem like she was doing it because she liked it. I always thought Irene unnie liked girls and hated men.”

”What if she’s being forced by the CEO?” asks Joy.

”You have a point; he said something about a deal in exchange for her first time,” says Seulgi.

”Do you think she made a deal so that we could debut first?” asks Wendy.

The members look at each other in disbelief at the idea that Irene could do something like this. “We should try to talk to Irene about it. Tell her that it’s not worth it, we can always debut later.”

”How do you think we should bring it up? Are we going to tell her that we walked in on them having sex? There is a reason why she didn’t tell us” says Wendy.

”All I know is that we should do something about it” says Joy.

“Let's try to talk to her tomorrow morning before our schedule,” suggests Seulgi. The members agree and nod their heads.

The next day, the members are woken up by a sweet smell and make their way to the kitchen. They see Irene wearing an apron and holding a bowl of pancake mix, “Good morning! Take a seat, I’m making some pancakes.”

The members sit on the stools and look at each other, trying to figure out how to bring up what they saw yesterday.

“Sorry I wasn't able to join the three of you, I was so busy with work that I ended up falling asleep when I got back. How was your celebration?”

“It was good. We ate a lot and even saved some for you.”

“Aww, thanks. Maybe we can celebrate after our debut!”

“We'd love that. They try to find a way to bring up the subject, but instead Irene leads the conversation.

After eating, they arrive at the dance room and practice one last time before their debut tomorrow. “Alright girls. This is our last performance as a trainee group. Tomorrow is our big day, so let's call it a day and rest a bit. I'll see everyone later today.”

“Okay!”

Irene leaves the practice room and meets up with the managers to talk about tomorrow's schedule. The other three discuss their plan for the day when Wendy asks, “What are we going to do about Irene unnie?”

Seulgi responds, “I don't think we should get involved; maybe we didn't get the whole picture.”

“Seulgi is right; what if they were role-playing, and we caught them in one of those moments,” says Joy.

“Remember when we asked if anyone had a person they liked? Irene said she couldn't see herself liking a man but blushed when we asked if it was a possibility with a girl.”

Yeah, I remember.”

“I can't see her doing it with anyone, especially a guy.”

“Let's just wait until she tells us herself, we don't want to get involved in her personal life, especially if it's with the CEO. He can disband us if he wants to.”

“You're right, we don't want to get kicked out just moments before our debut.”

Exhausted with the situation Wendy replies “Okay, I won't bring it up anymore.“

The four members wait behind the main stage as the MC gets ready to introduce them as the new girl group. They hold each other’s hands and hope for the best before heading onto the stage.

”Give a big applause to the new group. Let’s welcome, Red Velvet!”

The audience applauds as the four of them walk on stage. They give a warm smile and wave, “Thank you! We are so glad to be here.”

They each look at each other and nod, “Happiness! Hello- We are Red Velvet!” The music starts and they begin their performance.

”Thank you, everyone for your support! We'll perform much more” as the members wave goodbye. They bow and watch as the stage light goes dark.

“Good job everyone. You all did so well. Let's keep it up!”

“Thank you Irene unnie.”

“Let's go celebrate!”

“Yes, let's get some food!”

After a night of celebration each of the members are back in their rooms.

Everyone is asleep except one, she makes her way to her closet and grabs her bag and a trench coat before heading out. Her mind is set; she can't let her unnie care all the burden while the rest enjoy the easy life and exits the apartment.

You're going over at some last-minute documents when you hear the doorbell go off. Curious about who it might be, you get up and check the security screen. “What is she doing here?”

You open the door and ask, “What brings you here this late?”

“I came to take Irene unnie's place.”

Surprised, you respond, “I'm not sure what you mean.”

“Like I said, I'm here to take her place” and opens her trench coat, revealing her nude body. “What do you think?”

”Not bad.”

“You can do anything you want as long as you don't bother her anymore. Just let her keep her virginity, and you can have mine.”

Not being able to contain yourself, you place your hand on her soft and tender breast, giving them a faint squeeze. Wendy's eyes squints, adjusting herself to being touched by a man for the first time.

“Are you sure you’re willing to take her place?”

”Yes, I’ve made up my mind.”

That’s all you got to hear as you grab her hand and let her into your apartment. You stop at the living room and say, “Let’s get you comfortable and take off that coat.” Wendy slowly lets the coat go, revealing her whole body but still trying to cover her shaved cunt.

“Move your hand, I want to see everything.”

”Okay.”

You walk around, inspecting 360 degrees, before grabbing her hand once more and lead her into the bedroom. She walks into the neat room and sees the large bed in the center of the room. Wendy takes one last breath before shutting the door, preparing herself for what she’s about to do.

[rninies]

endless love ⟡ aventurine

synopsis early mornings with aventurine

warnings fluff, gn!reader, you're both so in love </3 me when

NOTES AVENTURINE AVENTURINE AVENTURINE AVENTURINE AVENTURINE AVENTURINE

sunlight creeps in between the curtains, waking you up from your peaceful slumber. squinting, your eyes instinctively searched for the figure next to you. aventurine is still asleep, surprisingly. he’s always the first one wide awake in the morning, so seeing aventurine still asleep is a rare occurrence.

you gently rolled over to your side, laying a hand under your head, supporting it. everything about aventurine is pretty; his face, his eyes, his hands, everything.

not just five minutes after waking up, aventurine’s eyes flutter open. when his eyes meet yours, he gives you a smile. “hey,”

you return the smile. “hey. how was your sleep?” you scoot closer to him, gently caressing his head.

“mm… it was good. better,” he replies.

“better how exactly?” you question.

“better because you’re here.” aventurine says so casually, and you swear your heart is about to burst by the way he’s just looking at you. “did i successfully fluster you at 9am in the morning?”

“you-” you can’t help but stop speaking. “how can you be this flirty early morning?”

aventurine laughs, your favorite sound in the whole world. “well, maybe it’s because you’re the one who’s making this… flirty side of me come out.” he laughs when he sees your face go red. “you bring out the best of me, you know that right?”

you hide your face in your hands. “stop being so cheesy already i can’t stand it.” that was a lie. you love it when aventurine starts expressing his love for you. it’s a rare occurrence, you can say, as aventurine expressing his love happens once in a blue moon. and, he is right about one thing.

you do bring out the best of him.

“do you have any plans for today?” you ask him, silently praying that he doesn’t.

aventurine hums. “mm, i don’t think so. the IPC hasn’t notified me of any new missions.”

your eyes brighten. “really?!” aventurine nods, eyes widening at your sudden outburst. “okay! that’s great! we can finally go on a date today!”

“a date-?” aventurine repeats. “but i didn’t plan-”

you shushed me. “i planned something for us. i mean, you can’t blame me! i’ve been wanting to go on a date with you for so long but you’ve been so busy with missions lately.” you can’t help but pout, remembering all the days you spent home alone in your shared apartment. aventurine only comes home late at night, and if you’re lucky enough, he’ll be home right before 10 pm.

aventurine can’t help but smile at your enthusiasm. “okay. i’ll go get ready and we can go on a date, yeah?” he kisses the top of your forehead affectionately, giving your butterflies in your stomach.

“mhm.” you nod.

you really do love him.

[kjupchurch-xx]

Intoxicated

March 16th, 2009

Today was my 21st birthday. My friend had set me up on a blind date with an actor, but didn't tell me who. She figured this would be the perfect scenario considering the hell I'd went through last Summer with a guy that was probably the biggest piece of shit on the planet. I haven't dated or been intimate with anyone since then, nor did I really have any interest in being. 

I looked over at her, "What is this guy even like?" I asked, finishing up curling my hair. 

She smiled, "He's tall, he's nice, he's super sexy and he's not American, if that gives you any hints." 

I shrugged as I sat my curling iron down, starting to put my eyeliner on, "It doesn't. But I mean, is this even someone I'd be remotely interested in?" I asked her, giving her a questioning look. 

She chuckled, "I'm positive you'll be thanking me by the end of the night." 

I rolled my eyes, "So he's an actor?" 

She nodded, bringing me a pair of ripped bell bottom jeans, "Yes. A very talented actor." 

I quickly changed into the jeans, "Is he anyone I know?" 

She walked to my living room, grabbing my keys to bring me, "Ummm... He's in that movie we watched when we were teenagers. I think it's called Swordfish or something like that." 

I gave her a questioning look, "Did you set me up with John Travolta?" 

She covered her mouth laughing, "You'll just have to wait and see. I'm not telling you anything!" 

She probably set me up with one of the extras, someone I most likely wouldn't even remember ever being in the movie. She knows I hate surprises, but I appreciate her for trying, even though the last blind date she set me up on was a complete and total dud. 

She clapped her hands at me, "Go! You were supposed to leave 5 minutes ago! He's going to meet you at RH Rooftop." She yelled. 

I grabbed my phone, made sure I had my keys and looked at her before heading out the door to our apartment, "I swear, if this is another dud, I'm going to kill you." 

She rolled her eyes, "I promise, it's not a dud. Just go." 

I rolled my eyes, closing the door behind me as I made my way down the hall, towards the elevator, then to my car in the parking garage. While making the drive to the restaurant, I'll tell you a bit about myself... I'm a Southern Belle, originally from South Carolina. I moved to NYC after obtaining a degree in journalism. I didn't have many opportunities in my small town, so I decided to move to a bigger city in hopes of pursuing a career as a reporter. I've been serving as an intern for a local publishing company, which has gone well for the most part. 

Callie and I are roommates. She also moved here for journalism, but moved here from Arizona. We met while working part-time at a coffee cafe and became roommates since the cost of living in NYC is astronomically high. She took a different career path, as a model which caused her to meet many different celebrities.She'd tried getting me into modeling with her, but it wasn't my thing. We shared a dog, Harley, who was a beautiful French Bulldog, that was treated as if he were our love child. 

As I arrived and finally found parking for RH Rooftop, I realized I was 10 minutes late. I quickly turned my car off and sprinted towards the entrance. I don't even know who I'm looking for or how to spot this dude. I approached the hostess stand, looking nervous as I skimmed the crowd of dinners wondering who Callie had set me up with. 

The hostess noticed me, "May I help you with something?" She asked kindly. 

I nodded, "Ummm... I"m here with a guy, but I'm unsure of where he's sitting. He's not American and is very tall. He's also an actor." I stammered, knowing I must sound insane. 

She giggled, "Can you tell me his name?" 

I pursed my lips, "Not really. I'm on a blind date, so I have no idea what his name is...or who he is." I chuckled nervously, scratching the back of my neck. 

She smiled, "Okay, I think I know who you're referring to. He told us he was expecting a blind date. Follow me." She said, grabbing a menu and leading me to the rooftop entrance. 

I followed behind, still curious as to who this would be. I'd probably shit a brick if it were John Travolta, but I'm pretty sure he's off the market. There was that computer hacker dude that was pretty hot too. As we reached the rooftop tables, she led me to a dark haired man that had his back towards the entrance. I couldn't make out who he was just yet and considering that was an older movie, I doubt I'd recognize him from the movie from the back. 

He stood as he heard us approach and pulled my chair out, turning to face me, "You must be my date." He said with a smile, extending his hand to shake mine, "I'm Hugh." He said casually. 

It was the computer hacker dude, and shit, did he look good. Even 8 years later, he still looked good. 

I smiled, shaking his hand, "I am, I'm Kaitlyn." I said as I took my seat. He gave me another smile before going back to his seat across from me. 

"How're you doing, love?" He asks, smiling at me, keeping his elbows off the table. Hm, a real gentleman. 

I chuckled at his flattery, already calling me a pet name. "I'm doing good, everything's going great for me at the moment. How's things going for you?" 

He shifted, "I just wrapped up filming an origin movie for a character I've played for the last 9 years, I'm finally on a much needed break and no longer on a strict regime for my character, which I'm fully intending on breaking tonight with a milkshake." 

I giggled, "I see." I said as the waiter approached us. He was a young man who was obviously infatuated with my date. 

"Holy s-, I mean, I'm so sorry-" He stammered as Hugh began cracking up, "It's quite alright, mate." He said to the young man. 

The man smiled, "Mr. Jackman, I'm sorry. Wolverine is my all-time favorite X-Men character." Hugh smiled, "Can I please get a picture with you? I swear I'll keep it professional after." He asked.

Hugh laughed, "Sure thing, mate. I'm sorry, love, but do you mind helping our waiter out with a picture?" He asked, almost embarrassingly. 

I chuckled, "I don't mind." The waiter smiled, handing me his cell phone as Hugh got up to stand beside him, making a Wolverine pose as if he had retractable claws. 

He pat the man on the back and sat back across from me, "Thank you so much, Mr. Jackman. And thank you for taking the picture. My name is William. What can I start you guys off with to drink?" He asked. 

Hugh and I looked at each other, "I think I'll take a martini." I said, flipping through the bar menu. "No problem, William. I'll take a martini, and also, a chocolate milkshake. Large, William." 

I giggled at his serious tone making sure William understood Hugh wanted a large. "Coming right up, are there any appetizers you guys want to start with?" William asked before walking off as we both shook our heads. 

Hugh looked up at me, damn was he sexy, "So, tell me about you." He said, smirking. 

I pursed my lips wondering what to tell, "Hmm, let's see... I have a Frenchie, his name is Harley. I'm an intern for a local business. I have a degree in journalism. I moved here from South Carolina after graduating college for a better chance of a career in journalism." 

He nodded, taking my words in, "I've always wanted a French Bulldog. I also have a degree in journalism. I moved here from Australia many years ago, but I moved for X-Men." He said, forcing his accent deeper as he mentioned being from Australia. 

I chuckled, "You do have a very sexy accent. I actually didn't know you weren't American because your American accent is so convincing." 

He smirked, "I happen to think your accent is sexy too." He said flirtatiously, making me blush.

I laughed, "I literally sound like cornbread, stop." 

He laughed, "You do not. Even if you did, cornbread tastes good." 

Our waiter returned with our drinks and Hugh's large milkshake, and proceeded to take our order. I reached for the menus, but Hugh swiped them from me, handing them to our server. 

He winked at me, "Gotta be quicker than that, beautiful." 

I playfully rolled my eyes, "Tell me more about you." I said, resting my chin on my hands, giving him my undivided attention. 

He smiled, "What do you wanna know?" He asked flirtatiously. 

I shrugged, "Everything." 

He chuckled, "For starters, I have two children, Ava and Oscar. They are 4 and 9. I play cricket. I enjoy singing. Every year, I go back to Australia and do the polar plunge. I'm recently divorced. Anything else you want to know?" 

I smirked, "Have you been with anyone since the divorce?" 

He looked at, surprised at my question, but smiled, "No, no I haven't. I haven't been with anyone besides her since 1995." 

I bit my lip, raising my brow with a giggle, "So you're not a douche bag then, noted."

He smiled sweetly, "No, I'm not a douche bag." He said softly. 

I shifted in my seat, taking a sip from my martini, "What are you hoping to come from this?"  

He shrugged, "I really don't know, love. I have no expectations, whatever happens, happens. What about you?" He asks, his eyes burning through me, almost with a lust. 

I smirked, "I kind of go with the flow. Whatever happens, happens." 

He bit his lip, "I like that." 

As the night went on, we ate our food and drank a few martinis. Both of us, feeling a little tipsy and beginning to ask risque questions as he moved his chair to my side of the table, now beside me. 

"So tell me, what are some of your turn-ons?" I asked with a smirk, sipping my 3rd martini.

His one hand moved to my thigh under the table, "Does it count if I say you?" He smirked, looking me in the eyes. 

I bit my lip, "Do you want to um...get out of here?" I asked him quietly. 

He grabbed my hand, "C'mon, love." and began leading me towards the entrance of the rooftop bar to head back downstairs and to the sidewalk. "Let's go to my car." He said, leading me to an SUV.

As we got to the car, he rushed towards the backseat, opening the door, motioning for me to climb in. I climbed in, sliding to the other end as he quickly slid in beside me, shutting the door and pulling me onto his lap, slamming his lips against mine as he roughly gripped my hips.  I felt him begin pushing his hips upwards, grinding into me as I reached behind us, positioning myself upwards, tugging at his belt. 

"Take this off..." I muttered against his lips as he bit my bottom lip, I pulled away and slid my top off as he helped me, tossing it into the seat beside us, leaving me in my bra and jeans. I slid off of him to remove my jeans and underwear as he undid his belt and jeans, his hard dick exposed. 

"Come here." He said, almost demanding, as he grabbed my arm, bringing my lips back to his as I straddled his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck as I lowered myself down onto him, taking every inch. 

He moaned against my lips, "Fuck, you're tight." He said lowly as he sucked on my bottom lip, nibbling at it. 

I began bouncing up and down, roughly, my moans filling the car. I felt him reach up and grab my breasts, that were covered by my bra, squeezing them. "Shit, your cock feels so good inside me." I cried out. 

He pushed my bra down, exposing my breasts as he popped one of my nipples into my mouth, nibbling at it and sucking as he started thrusting his hips up to meet mine. "Oh fuck!" I yelled as he moved his hands to my hips and started thrusting hard into me. 

"We gotta be quick, we're in a parking lot." He chuckled as he began moaning again. 

I could feel my orgasm coming, I grabbed his chin, forcing his face back to mine, crashing my lips onto his. "Cum for me, baby." He said huskily, moving his lips down to my neck, sucking and biting softly. 

I felt my eyes practically roll back into my head as I let myself go, my juices flowing down his throbbing cock as he spilled his load inside me. 

"Second date?" He asked, out of breath, laughing. 

I nodded, catching my breath, "Definitely."  

[jurijyuu]

Whiskey Lips

Human!Alastor x Reader

2.2K Words

Summary: Or the time you kissed your friend at a concert.

Tags: Modern AU, Second Person POV, Drunk Kisses, Unrequited Love (or is it?)

The loud blare of the music threatened to burst your eardrums but the buzz of the alcohol had long kicked in, slowly muffling the sound. The next band came up, a little known indie group with a couple of popular songs but after three similar bands this evening, you were tired and just ready to chill out in a corner on some overpriced booze. Some guy even started flirting with you, buying you a drink so he could try to charm you with his blue eyes and wispy blonde hair. 

Not exactly your type but cute enough. Too bad your friend Alastor had to ruin it.

“You suck as a wingman, you know that? You end up chasing away the guys cuz you’re too pretty.” You stood at the end of the bar, watching the blond weave through the crowd and disappear. 

“Darling, if seeing a prettier man makes him run away, then he isn’t worth your time.” Leaning on the newly vacated spot next to you, Alastor smirked, a light chuckle playing on that grin as he too watched the bodies pushing against each other to see the band. You didn’t blame them. The sound quality was terrible. There hadn’t been a single song who’s lyrics you actually understood. 

“He’s worth about $24 in drinks, so maybe 5 minutes of my time.” Blondie had bought you enough coke and whiskey that he turned from a 5 to a 6 in your eyes. Maybe a 7 if you finished this drink. As you tilted the cup to swallow the last of the bittersweet cocktail, a large hand blocked the rim.

“I think you’ve had plenty to drink if you think this is worth the risk of STDs and a handsy little humping.” Taking the glass in his pretty tapered fingers, he drank what was left.

“Maybe that’s what I was looking for?” You didn't really know what to expect when your neighbor turned friend had barged into your apartment earlier this evening and demanded you go out with him. Out of sheer boredom, the prospect of spending way too much money to listen to some unknown artists had been enticing enough. Though the first gust of cold wind almost had you turning back around, Alastor determinedly dragged you to the city and that was how you ended up here. Bored of the bands, sick of the bodies that kept pushing around you and now, you didn’t even have the prospect of going home with a cutie for the evening to make this excursion worth it.

“Oh, do forgive me for looking out for my drunk little friend then.” The sarcastic tilt of his smile turned more amused at your pouting. It would have been annoying if those lips didn’t shine with the remnants of your drink. Pretty privilege at its finest right there. You huffed.

“Seriously, Al. Why bring me out if you’re gonna cockblock me every time?”

“I just think you can do better than that guy, sweetheart.” Moving closer so he didn’t have to semi-yell every word, his voice dropped to his placating croon that he knew always worked on you.

“Hnnngh.” His smooth talk would have been nice, who didn’t like a compliment, after all? But it’s been years since anyone tried to hit on you and the attention was nice, especially since the guy had been pretty attractive. You gave your friend a side eye. Even in the dark, flashing pink and purple lights, couldn’t hide the occasional highlight of a sharp jawline or his tall slender frame. “You wouldn’t know. You have to fight off people from flirting with you.”

Alastor was a solid 8 on a normal day with his curly dark hair and sharp features softened by big expressive eyes and a smile that could sell toothpaste. He was the definition of tall, dark and handsome. Today, he was a 10, wearing a black wool suit jacket paired down with light blue jeans and a black v-neck shirt. With the multiple piercings in his ears, tussled brown locks and the eternally impish smile he had on, he attracted looks left, right and center.

“So you’re pent up, is that it?” He had the audacity to laugh. Prick. He strutted around looking like he did but never gave even an inkling of interest in anything sexual or romantic. Instead, he found amusement in hearing your failed romantic escapades and all the emotional toils people around him had for a problem he’d never experience.

“…” This close, you could smell the whiskey on his breath and the cologne he wore. Even that combination smelled sexy. He could bottle it up and sell it as incense the way it put you in a trance for just a second. You squinted at him. The room started to spin and he had that insufferable smirk on his face as his eyes looked down on you. Without thinking about it, you grabbed him, pulling him with enough force to bring his tall ass to your level so you could plant a kiss on his annoying lips. Your alcohol-addled mind thought it was a brilliant pay back for the opportunity he spoiled. Just a little kiss to wipe that stupid smile off his face. 

The sweet taste of Coca Cola and whiskey made for an intoxicating mix along with the soft plumpness of his lips. So soft and a little cold. Your tongue darted out to taste them without a second thought. He pushed back against your onslaught, lips more incessantly against you as something warm and a little slimy licked your lips in retaliation…and he was kissing back? HE WAS KISSING YOU BACK!? You stepped back in surprise, not expecting your intimacy-repulsed friend to do that, only to feel a warm hand at your waist keeping you in place.

“I’ll take that as your answer.” His voice took on a husky timber, the kind he used when he whispered mischief and snide comments in your ears when Karen from down the hall put up another complaint on the apartment’s group page. “Now, why don’t I help you, my darling?”

His smirk was shinier as he swooped back down and drowned you in the taste of whiskey and coke.

He pressed you against the poster-covered walls of the dingy concert venue, uncaring of the many other attendees pushing through the tight space, the yells to ‘get a room’, the envious stares. Even with the occasional shove against his back, he was careful not to crush you unless it was with his mouth. And his tongue. The garbled blares of the pop-punk band were garbled by the sounds of your heartbeat and the soft groans the brunette let out and your lips slotted against each other, tongues exploring, teeth nipping. And oh my god, the world was hot and spinning and all you saw were pretty honey eyes fogged in the same daze you were under, drunk on impulsive lust and…alcohol. 

Drunk?

All your senses seemed to come back to you then. Where you were, who you were with and why this was a bad idea. You pulled away and those honey eyes quirked with confusion, lips seeking to slot against yours again but you turned your cheek. “We—“ You had to clear your throat as those pretty lips made a light trail on the column of your neck that was left exposed to his gaze. “We shouldn’t…be kissing while drunk.” You shouldn’t have been kissing in general.

“What? Never kissed your friends before while a little intoxicated? I thought that’s what you girls do.” Sensing your rejection, he let up, leaning his forehead against yours while his lips teasingly hovered over your own. Even though he remained so close to you, breath still brushing against your face, the turn of the mood was immediate, coming back to the usual banter as Alastor’s momentary interest evaporated, though the smile on his lips remained shiny.

“You shouldn’t hold Katy Perry up as your model female.” 

He chuckled then and released you from the cage of his arms. You hadn’t noticed until they left how his hand had been pulling you closer through the waistband of your jeans. And now you felt cold, as he was so quick to pull away.

But as the presence of him around you lessened, you knew you made the right choice. Your heart was hammering in your chest, face flushed not just with the warmth of alcohol, but he looked like he couldn’t care less, easily slipping back to the teasing jerk he’d been before the little stunt you pulled. Ouch. It didn’t even take a couple of seconds for him to look uninterested.

To hide your disappointment, you stretched your neck, pretending to loosen your muscles with a nonchalant grin. It was only then that you noticed the sticky feeling of sweat on your back and your boobs, the temperature too hot within the room just from the sheer amount of packed bodies. And even hotter after what Alastor and you just did.

“Fuck it’s hot in here. I’ll go step outside for some air real quick.”

And he let you go, moving back to the bar to get a drink as he waved you off with a pinch to your cheek.

When the chilly night air finally had a chance to cool your overheated face, it chased away some of the lightheaded buzz. Fuck. What were you thinking, kissing your friend? Drunk kissing your hot as fuck friend? If it were any other guy, you would have been thrilled to make out with him, have a fun night and see where the morning went. But this was Alastor. A drunk Alastor. 

Your stepdad always said that two idiots made an accident and you two were very much too drunk for any decisions you made to be smart. It took over two years to build your friendship with him. The man was easily bored, snarky and a little mean but neighborly politeness turned to camaraderie against your HOA which turned into actual friendship. One of the few you had as an adult. You couldn’t afford to ruin things between you two, not for feelings that you shouldn’t have had in the first place.

It didn’t take long before more and more people started leaving. You checked your phone. When had it gotten so late? 

“Feeling better?” The smooth tone of his voice floated through the crowded area and you gave a drunken little nod, a sense of accomplishment and happiness bubbling up at yourself from preventing a disaster.

The bus ride home to the apartment complex was relatively normal, thank god. Except for how giddy you two were from drinking, it was like the kiss never happened. As easily erased as any semblance of interest he may have had with you but the sting of that faded the more dumb jokes this yapper of a man kept spouting. 

Even the quiet elevator ride in the claustrophobically small one your building had didn’t seem too bad. Just two drunk friends staring off into the not so far wall. Like this, you could pretend nothing happened, pretend you blacked some part of tonight out and go on without introducing awkward unrequited feelings into the mix. 

Alastor, as well as you two got along, was way out of your league. You glanced to the side where he leaned across the supporting bar on the elevator wall. Even just standing there, he exuded a mysterious grace that the bleak lighting of the old elevator couldn’t wash out. Pretty, witty and charming. You were lucky to be his friend. You were lucky he took that kiss in stride.

Maybe you could laugh about it with him some day. Probably tomorrow, if he ever brought it up.

The elevator dinged, signaling his stop and the best time for you to put down any musings about what-ifs and all that. Whatever devil possessed the man to kiss you back wouldn’t be there when the alcohol was gone and his general disinterest in relationships and intimacy returned.

“Good night!!” You chirped as he walked out with his signature grin and a two-fingered salute. As the elevator door closed, you let go of the small disappointments within your heart, closing the box on your unrequited feelings before they ruined everything for you. Already, serenity seemed to come over you as you made peace with your stupid mistake for the evening. You’ll apologize too if he ends up mad at you in the morning.

*Thump*

A sound caught your lazy attention as a hand stuck through the almost closed gap of the doors, forcing them to open again as Alastor’s figure squeezed through.

You didn’t get a chance to even ask why before broad palms cupped your cheeks and honey eyes locked on your own, his smile gone into a serious line. Shit. Did his common sense kick in already? Was he mad?

“You said, no kissing while drunk, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Then I’m very sober, sweetheart.”

For a second time that evening, you found yourself pressed between a wall and Alastor’s lips.

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #61 Part 4

Danny woke up to a stream of sunlight on his face. The room was just as rich as he remembered, he stood up and stretched a bit before he heard a knock at the door.

It was Alfred bringing him a change of clothes, “Breakfast is ready, Master Danny. You can find the dining room down the hall to the left.” the old butler smiled at him. 

“You don’t have to call me Master, Alfred, I’m not your Damian.” Danny said, turning around to address him.

“Ah, yes, however you are still Master Bruce’s son, even from another world.” The butler gave him a cheeky smile.

Danny shrugged and headed to the bathroom to get changed. Once he was decent again, he headed down to the dining room. 

The room was just as fancy as the rest of the house with a chandelier and ornate vases. 

Danny noticed Damian and a few others already seated at the table. Damian wore what Danny could only assume was his rich kid school uniform. He sat across from Damian who made a small ‘Tt’ and turned away from him. 

Next to Damian was Tim who put away his laptop once Danny sat down. Tim was wearing a business suit, a dark red colored one. “Ah, you sleep much longer than Damian does, you must have been tired.” Tim smiled at him.

Also seated at the table and wearing a navy blue suit, was Bruce himself. He was drinking coffee and reading a newspaper.

“Stop comparing me to him, Drake, I’m nothing like this imposter.” Looks like Damian still thought he was a clone. 

Whatever, he shrugged it off and filled his plate. 

“I don’t really have a lot of free time,” was all Danny said before he started eating.

Tim kind of watched him for a minute, he looked kind of shocked for a second, “You’re eating meat??” 

Ah so that was another difference between them, “again, I’m Danny, I’m not Damian.”

Damian scoffed, “So that’s what you call yourself, imposter.”

Danny gave Damian a tired sigh, looks like the him of this universe was a lot more prideful than he was. Danny went through way too much to carry the same, dying and being crown prince of the infinite realms wasn’t exactly something he was born into. Danny was a bit jealous if he was being honest with himself. 

“Damian, please at least attempt to be friendly. Danny is our guest for the meantime.” Bruce said, putting his newspaper down. He then turned his attention to Danny, “I know it isn’t ideal but I think it’ll be best for you to stay here until we can get you to your own world. I’m planning a trip to the Watchtower tomorrow so I can speak with some of my colleagues about the situation.” 

Danny sighed but nodded his head, “I get it, you can’t have two of us running around.”

“Quite, you’re more than welcome to go around the mansion and the grounds, I’d also like to invite you along to the Watchtower but we’d need to come up with a disguise for you, secret identity and everything.” Bruce continued after taking another sip from his mug, “Alfred will still take you out today to get some basic necessities for you. We’ll get you a proper disguise so you're able to go with him.”

Danny nodded again and continued eating. He thought things over as he ate, he technically had a disguise they could use for the Watchtower but Danny was still on the fence on what exactly he’d tell everyone here.

It wasn’t exactly an easy conversation to have, thankfully some more people arrived for breakfast.

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[apollo-likes-writing]

LAPIS LAZULI - 2. Opulence

Character(s): Veritas Ratio/Lapis Lazuli, Jelena/Topaz

Tags: Long fic, mentions of sex (not explicit and not between Ratio and Topaz), arguments, Ratio's backstory.

Word count: 2,787 words

Summary: He missed an important meeting after a night out and Topaz is incredibly pissed at him for it. Lmao.

Author's Note: I know I said I'd post this at the weekend but executive dysfunction decided to beat my ass so y'all are getting it on Thursday instead lol.

Just want to note I am not writing explicit smut in any of this fanfiction. Read my boundaries if you'd like to know why. This was inspired by the incredible @havanillas with her roleswap!AU! Have a look!

This is off topic but, as someone who has family near Florida, I wish anyone affected by Hurricanes Helene and Milton and the Super Typhoon in Taiwan/China safety and peace.

Account Masterlist | Fic Masterlist | Prologue

10:39am - Wednesday

The sound of a phone ringing wakes him up, which is strange because he could have sworn he put it on Do Not Disturb the night previously. His arm reaches blindly for his phone on the bedside table. As he does so he smacks his knuckle against the corner of the wood and swears loudly as pain shoots up his arm. He continues his hunt regardless, the tinny jingle of his ringtone starting to bounce around his skull irritatingly. It takes him a while, but he finds his phone and grasps it tightly, bringing it in front of his face and promptly blinding himself as he turns it on. Topaz is calling. Of course she is. 

The man grumbles and sits up in his bed, squinting at his colleagues name for a few seconds before begrudgingly tapping the green button to answer it.

“Topaz! My friend! To what do I owe the pleasure?” The man begins with forced positivity, placing his forearm over his eyes and willing his phone to suddenly have a crappy connection.

“Lapis, where in Qlipoth's name are you?” Topaz’ exasperated voice rings out. “You were supposed to be at the meeting over an hour ago.”

“Oh shit, that was today?”

“Yes, Lapis. It was.” He can hear how clearly she wants to throttle him through the phone. The idea makes him suppress a laugh. “Where are you?”

Lapis eyes the other side of his bed. There, the tanned shirtless back of his chosen boy-toy of the night lays there peacefully, facing away from him in a blanket of black curls. “That doesn't matter. Fill me in on the important, definitely-not-going-to-bore-me-to-death stuff.”

Topaz sighs. “Diamond and Jade are throwing a business party on Friday and they want us to attend.”

“Sounds dull,” Lapis replies simply, grinning slightly at the snort his colleague lets escape in response. “Do I have to go?”

“Yes, Lapis Lazuli of Stratagems, you do,” she answers irritably.

“Ooh, my full title. Am I in trouble?” he teases.

“You will be if you don't show up. Meet me at HQ in thirty minutes.”

With that, Topaz hangs up and Lapis throws his phone back onto the bedside table frustratedly. He crosses his arms and rubs the bridge of his nose, feeling the makeup he forgot to take off last night on his fingertips. The sensation of a hand soothing against his thigh meets his senses and Lapis looks down at his current companion, who has now turned around to face him. He's cute, Lapis admits, which is the main reason why he decided to spend the night with him. His dark skin is littered with lovebites and his coily hair fans out below his head, now slightly messy. It was his eyes that struck Lapis when he first saw him though: a beautiful hazel with flecks of teal dotted about in them and large pupils. 

Those eyes are currently looking up at him from where he lays next to him, gently massaging his thigh in a surprising show of domesticity.

“Are you alright?” the man asks, slightly guarded.

The Stoneheart nods. “Yes, just work stuff. None of it concerns you.” He sneaks his hand onto his companion's head and plays with his hair absentmindedly.

“I don't think I'm smart enough to understand it anyway, Mr. Corporate,” he teases. “But a party? That sounds fun. Are you going?”

“I'm going to have to,” Lapis replies, sighing. “Don't get me wrong, I like parties as much as the next man, but this one is for work and I have to save face which is boring.” He tilts his head back and pushes his palms into his eyes, groaning loudly as he watches a kaleidoscope of colours burst behind his eyelids. The man beside him chuckles warmly.

“You're Lapis Lazuli. A party is no big deal to you, right? Just go there and rub shoulders with whoever you need to rub shoulders with then drink until you do it willingly.”

He has a point.

“Good idea,” he answers, taking his hands away from his face. He pulls the duvet off and swings his legs over the edge of the bed, shivering at the cold air of the surrounding room now hitting his bare skin. He sits there for a while, head lowered, as he musters the motivation to stand up. He does so after a few moments and then hunts around the room for his clothes so carelessly thrown about the night before. He's half-dressed when he turns to his company. “Unfortunately, I've got to go out and attempt to be a human being to prevent my colleague from murdering me,” he says, receiving a laugh from the other man. “You're welcome to anything in the kitchen. The door will automatically lock when you leave, so don't worry about that. Please don’t steal anything — it causes a great deal of hassle that I wish to not be caught up in.”

“Wow, it’s like I’m in a hotel,” he giggles.

“Yeah, well room service isn’t included. Sorry.”

He’s followed out of the room by a hearty laugh. He heads to his bathroom and goes about his morning routine, brushing his teeth and his hair before rooting through his makeup bag to wipe off the old and do his skin care before renewing it. He nearly pokes his eye out with his eyeliner in the process and groans as he smudges the red under his eyes. He finishes soon afterwards and pointedly ignores the hickeys on his own chest and neck (his colleagues have seen worse anyway). He leaves and nabs a banana from the fruit bowl on the counter on his way out of the building, shoving it in his pocket.

It’s raining when he gets outside, raindrops splashing on cement and dirtying the bottom of his trousers. He sighs irritably and rings up his chauffeur to collect him. He draws upon his Imaginary energy and creates a black umbrella for himself as he waits impatiently in the rain, eyeing the sky every now and again when thunder rumbles nearby. 

To his chauffeur’s credit, a slick limousine pulls up only two minutes later. He enters smoothly and wrings out his umbrella before he closes the door behind him. He takes a seat at the back of the car, not bothering to put his seatbelt on.

”Good morning, Sir. Where will you be headed?” his chauffeur asks on the other side of the window that separates driver from passenger.

”Morning, Connors,” Lapis replies, running a hand through damp hair to neaten it. He debates in his mind whether he should piss off Topaz even more or actually do as she asks. He decides on the former. “Take me to that coffee shop on 4th Avenue,” he asks. Connors nods his head and puts his foot on the accelerator, pushing the car forwards.

Lapis watches the buildings of Pier Point fly by as they drive past. Tall skyscrapers touch sturdy bubbles that float above them that act as buildings in their own right. Billboards and screens advertise various IPC products that Lapis knows definitely do more harm than good but are still being sold regardless. Neon signs point to bars and restaurants with the aim of drawing the eye but only succeed in forcing the viewer to look away to prevent themselves from losing their eyesight. It is meticulously blinding and doesn’t do any favours with the slight hangover the Stoneheart is nursing. 

Connors turns a corner and travels on a road away from the cacophony of light and sound, slowing to a stop outside an easy-on-the-eyes building. He states, “We’re here, Sir,” and Lapis gives a non-commital grunt of affirmation before reaching for his umbrella and leaving.

”Stay here, Connors. I’ll be five minutes,” he directs before shutting the door and heading inside.

The coffee shop is a homely one. Mismatched chairs are tucked under old wooden tables and there is, oddly, a wide variety of clocks dotted around the walls. Cool browns and soft whites meet Lapis’ eyes as he scans the cozy place. A kind-looking woman stands behind the counter, blending a coffee mixture and pouring it into a cup. Once done, she turns and hands it to the patron on the opposite side of the cash register.

“That will be £5.50. Scan or swipe when you’re ready,” she says, her smile evident in her tone of voice despite the obscene price of her drinks. The customer mutters their thanks and turns away, giving a wide berth to Lapis as if he was poisonous to the touch (with his reputation, he probably was). Lapis pays them no mind and strolls up to the counter with the manner of a man much more care-free than he actually is. Once the barista looks up, her wide smile turns into a grin. “Lapis Lazuli, my loyal friend! Nice to see you again.” The way the woman looks him up and down as if he were something tasty does not go unnoticed by the executive, but he ignores it.

“Morning, Oti,” he responds, matching the smile of the woman opposing him.

“The usual?” Oti asks, already reaching under the counter for a cup.

“The very same,” Lapis replies easily. While his order is being made (a large salted caramel frappé with coffee and cream. Fancy and expensive – just like him), the feeling of dozens of eyes digging into the back of his neck reach his senses. This is not an abnormal occurance. Lapis Lazuli is a top dog around these parts; there will be several people who work under his chain of command in this cafe alone. There's a kind of power trip that occurs whenever he thinks on it. Money talks, as the saying goes.

A plastic cup (not biodegradable? Naughty boy-) filled with a delicious-looking iced frappé, whipped cream placed perfectly on top in a swirl that pokes out the hole in the semi-circular lid, is placed on the counter. A paper straw is poked inside it and is then pushed towards him. Lapis looks at it for a moment and smiles.

“Looks as delicious as ever, Oti,” he comments, picking it up and taking a sip. “Mmm, and tastes it too.”

“I'm glad you like it,” Oti replies, smiling. “That'll be £6.60.” Lapis digs in his pocket and fishes out his phone, tapping the top of it against the pin machine without paying any mind to the price.

“Brilliant. Thankyou, Sir. Come back soon!” the barista calls as the bell to the door rings out when Lapis leaves.

11:25am - Wednesday

IPC headquarters is as busy as it always is. Busy-body staff briskly walk past him with respectful (and scared) nods of acknowledgement as Lapis strolls through the main entrance. Soldiers and guards stand to attention and salute him. which he ignores in favour of heading to the secretary’s desk. There is a line that stands between him and the workers, but they all shift out of the way with terrified looks on their faces at a simple clearing of his throat. Lapis shoots them all a superficial smile and steps forward, reaching the desk and leaning on it comfortably.

“Good morning,” he begins, winking at the woman behind the desk. She looks up and startles at the sight of him, her face turning an ugly shade of red.

“Ah! Lapis Lazuli, Sir! What can I do for you, Sir?”

“Nothing much,” he replies with vague condescension. He takes an obnoxious sip of his coffee before continuing. “A little birdy told me that P45- Topaz is looking for me. Where is she?”

With trembling fingers, the woman taps on the keyboard and looks something up on her computer. “Sh- She's on the 57th floor, Sir. Room Six.” Lapis gives a hum of affirmation and leaves, slinking back through the queue and heading for the elevator.

When he finds Topaz, she looks like she's ready to strangle him.

“Does your watch work?” she asks as soon as he opens the door.

“Mmm, yes. It works perfectly fine, thankyou for asking. Why do you ask?” Lapis answers after another long sip of his coffee, finding great joy in the anger of his colleague.

“Okay, next question.” She strides up to him and plants herself a few inches away from him. She's a foot shorter than Lapis and has to look up at him, the irate look on her face reminding him of an angry bird. He decides not to point that out. “Do you know how to tell the time? Because I could have sworn I told you to meet me fifteen minutes ago.” She has the audacity to take the coffee out of his hand and slam it on the table beside them. He shoots her a small glare before fishing into his pocket and pulling out the banana he retrieved earlier, peeling it with a controlled slowness that would annoy anyone (including him if he wasn't the one doing it) and taking a large bite.

“Topaz, I have a PhD in mathematics. I can assure you that I know how to tell the time,” he says, mouth full.

“Then why, in Qlipoth's name, are you only here now?”

“Because I find great enjoyment in pissing you off. Was that not obvious?” he replies, gesturing between the two of them with banana in hand. Topaz opens and closes her mouth several times, finding the choice words she needs to get this over with as quickly as possible.

“The party is at 8pm on Friday. Black tie, so wear something decent for once. Opal is breathing down my neck to get you, Sugilite, and Obsidian on board and, surprisingly, Obsidian has been the most agreeable. Unlike you and Sugilite, she was actually there at the meeting this morning. I now see why you weren't in attendance.” She gives him a once over, gesturing to the lovebites on his chest and neck. 

“Y’know, I do actually have a social life, Topaz,” Lapis states. “You should try it some time.”

“I'm not saying you shouldn't have, uh- hobbies, Lapis. What I'm saying is that your job should come before them, or did you forget that?”

Lapis shrugs. “I'm here now, right?”

“That's not the point. You have duty here as one of the Stonehearts. Not a duty to your favourite casinos and clubs.”

“Let a man live a little, alright? I spent half my life in academic squalor seeking the attention of an Aeon that clearly wanted nothing to do with me. My life's work was made entirely useless. I might as well have received the attention of the Nihility if the Preservation didn't snap me up first.”

“Oh boo hoo, cry me a river,” Topaz snaps. “At least you have people here who give half a rat's ass about you.”

“That's becoming ever more debatable by the day,” Lapis seethes, demeanour now serious.

“Well too bad. You're here now. The only way you're getting out of this place is in a wooden box.”

“I can say the same for you, Topaz. How deep has Jade's manipulation really gone? I can't tell what's you and what's her anymore.”

“You don't know anything about me. You've been a Stoneheart for - what - a year? 10 months?” Topaz jabs a finger into his collarbone. Lapis doesn't move an inch.

“I don't need to know you. Your denial of it is proof enough.” Lapis smiles again, this time less cheery and more angry. The movement of his lips more a grimace than anything else. Topaz steps away from him, glaring daggers into his very soul. If Lapis wasn't, you know, Lapis, he would have wilted on the spot at such a murderous stare. She turns and stalks to the tall window of the room; a dreary view that shows the cityscape of Pier Point through the gloomy rain. 

“At the party,” she begins, facing away from him. “At least try to present yourself as a decent human being, alright?”

Lapis gives her a long, hard look, watching her through the reflection of the window. “You and I both know that's not possible for either of us. We've got too much blood on our hands.” He snatches his coffee from the table and heads for the door. His hand rests on the handle before he turns back to face the woman, who is still facing away from him. “Oh, and Topaz?”

She twists around and looks at him this time, watching him with a weary look that makes her look decades older than what she is. 

“What?”

“This could've been an email.”

He ducks out of the door before a stapler is launched at him from across the room.

--

Reblogs appreciated! <3

[fallinallincurls]

pancakes for two, i will always love you

this is my (late) entry for demi's lowkey lovefest 2k24! thank you so much for hosting this fun little challenge @wyattjohnston!

this fic is also a belated birthday gift to the amazing @desiredposion!! inspiration struck and i had to make the most of it so i hope you love this! this was also my first time writing for nico which was so much fun.

prompt used: "don't ever stop looking at me like that."

heavily inspired by the lyrics "maple syrup, coffee, pancakes for two, hash brown, egg yolk, i will always love you" from keep driving by harry styles

hope you enjoy!! feedback is always appreciated! xx

word count: 1.3k+

~~~~~

Dating a professional hockey player means that slow mornings are a rarity. Usually, Nico is up and out the door for morning skate before your eyes even open. But today, you’re lucky enough to get the extra time in bed with the man you love for the first time in what feels like forever.

As sunlights bathes the room in a subtle, but beautiful golden glow, you snuggle in closer to Nico in an effort to absorb the heat radiating from his body. His strong arms tighten around you instinctively and even though his eyes remain closed, he presses a kiss to your forehead before dropping his head into the crook of your neck.

“Morning, Neeks.”

“Mm,” He hums contently, making you giggle and you relish in the rough feeling of his scruff against your skin. You card a hand through his tousled hair, earning a soft moan in response.

“Come on, schatzi.” He murmurs, dragging out the syllables of each word as a slight smirk appears on his lips. “You know how much I like it when you play with my hair.”

“Oh trust me, I know.” You chuckle, moving your hand to his cheek just as Nico lifts his head and his gorgeous brown eyes meet yours. A comfortable silence settles between the two of you, the playfulness that was evident just seconds ago fading even though the identical tender smiles on your faces continue to grow.

“We don’t get to do this enough.” Nico whispers, gaze never leaving yours as he pulls you impossibly closer to him. You rest a hand on his bare chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart and try to commit every detail about this moment to memory. Nothing but pure adoration rushes through your veins as you admire the beautiful man next to you.

“That’s okay. It makes these rare mornings that much more special.”

“I’m going to tell the team we can’t ever have practice until after 10 at the earliest.” Nico grins, his dimples appearing as he laughs at his own little joke.

“You have that power as captain?” You tease, pressing a kiss to his nose, his cheek, and finally his lips. Nico smiles into the kiss before deepening it for a few seconds, bringing out that familiar need for him.

“I don’t really know, but I deserve some more time with my girl so I’ll make it a rule. I don’t care what anyone says.” He mumbles against your lips, voice low and still full of sleep.

Your heart swells as you drink in the sight of your boyfriend. Nico’s eyes are sparkling with love and his sweet smile is the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen. His hair is a mess but somehow still looks perfect and you absentmindedly trace shapes on his shoulder, feeling the well toned muscles there. 

He is a dream. And despite all odds, you’re the lucky one who gets to love him every single day. That’s something you’ll never take for granted because you never thought you’d find someone as kind, caring and amazing as Nico.

Yet, here you are. 

You’re pulled out of your thoughts when Nico presses another tender kiss to your cheek before pulling away like he’s going to get up.

“Hey, hey! Where do you think you’re going?” You tease him, grabbing onto his forearm in an effort to keep him in bed.

“To make breakfast?” Nico replies, more as a question than a statement. His brows knit together in confusion and the cutest look crosses over his facial features.

“Right now? We can’t stay and cuddle for five more minutes?” Nico can’t help but chuckle at the adorable pout you’re putting on display, but doesn’t give into your antics. Instead, he leans down to give you one last kiss before heading towards the bedroom door.

“Yes, right now. By the time you’re done with your morning routine, everything will be ready. I promise. We have all day to be cozy and do absolutely nothing.” He reassures you, that cheeky smile of his blossoming across his lips and bringing out his dimples again.

“Not fair, Neeks!” You call after him, that giddy feeling of happiness rushing through you when you hear his laughter floating down the hallway. After soaking in the warmth for a few more seconds, you reluctantly drag yourself out of bed to shower and get your morning routine done. 

And true to his word, when you enter the kitchen dressed in sweats and one of Nico’s shirts ready for a lazy day in with your boyfriend, you find the counter covered in a full breakfast spread. A mug of coffee made just the way you like it, pancakes for two, maple syrup, hash browns and eggs are all plated and ready to be enjoyed.

“Nico,” You breathe out, shock and awe evident in your voice. Nico is always doing something sweet for you, no matter how big or small, but you weren’t expecting this at all. “What is this for?”

“Just because.” Nico shrugs, a bashful look on his face. His cheeks are pink with blush and those gorgeous brown eyes are twinkling with excitement. “We don’t get many mornings together like this. I wanted to spoil you. Made all your favorites.” He admits before stealing a kiss from you and passing you a full plate he somehow put together without you noticing. 

“I love you.” There’s nothing else you can say. After all the time together, these little gestures still warm your heart and are the kindest reminders of Nico’s love for you.

“I love you too, schatzi. Now come on, let’s eat. We’ve got a whole lot of nothing to do today.” Nico teases, sitting down next to you at the table. 

As you enjoy breakfast together, the two of you talk about everything and anything. Nico tells you some funny stories from practice yesterday and catches you up on all the drama about how Jack likes a girl, but won’t make a move. You fill him in on your latest project at work and how you scheduled a girls day with your best friend for later that week. 

“We’re going to check out that new bookstore in Hoboken! The one right by the restaurant we really like on the waterfront. I’m looking for the next book in the series I’m reading so hopefully they have it.”

Noticing Nico has been quiet the whole time you’ve been talking, your rambling trails off. But before you can ask what’s wrong, your breath is stolen away. Because when you take in the sight of your boyfriend, you see the fondest look on his face. One that you recognize of pure love and adoration. It’s the look of someone who has found exactly where they should be. The look of someone who has found happiness in the simplicity of spending their life with another person. 

“Please don’t ever stop looking at me like that.” You murmur, the words slipping past your lips before you even realize what you’re saying. Nico’s gentle smile just grows, his hand reaching for yours. 

“Like what?” He teases, that familiar playfulness evident through his question. 

“Like nothing else in the world matters but the love that we have. Like you’re the happiest right here with me.”

“I am the happiest with you. Always will be.” Nico whispers before pulling you in for a deep kiss. He says everything with that kiss, words aren’t necessary and wouldn’t do justice to how he feels about you. You melt into his gentle touch, smiling against his lips as everything else falls away for just a moment.

“And you’re right,” He starts when the kiss breaks, his big brown eyes never leaving yours. “Nothing else even compares to the way I love you.” 

And right then, over pancakes and coffee that Nico made you, you know he’s going to be the man you marry. The one you spend the rest of your days with. Because this kind of love is once-in-a-lifetime and you don’t want to go through life without him by your side.